Samhain

by Rebecca F. Kenney

  She's looking at me, doing that seeing-into-my-soul thing she does sometimes.

  "Fine," I say. "She kinda hinted that she wants us to get back together."

  "Oh my gosh! That is the best news. What did you say?"

  "Told her I wasn't ready for another relationship. I said I need to learn how to take it slow."

  Aislinn nods. "Seems smart."

  There's something burning in me, something I've got to say. "Girl, you and I jumped into things fast. But I wouldn't change it. For a while there, it was beautiful."

  Her smile lights up her face. "It really was."

  "Don't wait too long," I say. "Tryin' to mature and everything is all good, but you gotta seize the moment, too. I may not like Kieran, but I think he loves you, for real. Just let him know how you feel, okay?"

  She's blushing. "Okay. I've got to go."

  "Sure thing. Be safe."

  "You too."

  And she's gone.

  When she leaves, I feel another thrum in the medallion, like it echoed the magic she just used. I pull it out of my shirt and hold it between my thumb and finger.

  Am I crazy, or is the amulet glowing for just a second? When I run my fingers over it, there's a definite buzz of energy.

  What the hell. Does this thing absorb magic?

  Whatever it is, I got to figure it out before anything else weird happens.

  9

  KISS

  Aislinn

  "I don't know about letting you go to the beach alone, with Kieran," says Arden.

  "Letting me? You're not my mother."

  "But I am your guardian."

  "What do you think will happen?" I ask. "He's not going to hurt me. He won't even kiss me." Admitting that out loud is so embarrassing.

  "You've known him for a few months. I knew him centuries ago, and I've kept an eye on his activities. You heard what Ériu said, too, about his past. He doesn't do relationships with women. He charms them, uses them, and leaves them. Fast and free, that's how he lives. Now he does seem different with you, but I have to warn you that he probably hasn't changed much."

  "But before all that, he had a wife. He loved her, more than anything."

  Arden looks uncomfortable, almost guilty. I wonder if it haunts her, what she and the others did to Etain.

  And there's another question burning in my mind, one that I have to ask. "Before, when he recruited you to spy on me, the two of you had an arrangement, right? You gave me the dream necklace, gathered information for him, brought me to him when he needed me, and he promised to break the Korrigan curse for you. Which was a lie, obviously, but you bought it. How did he convince you to help him?" I'm shaking a little, because I'm scared that I've guessed right. "Did he sleep with you?"

  Arden looks offended and angry. "I never slept with the Far Darrig! How could you think I would? We Korrigan consider him to be the lowest, most disgraceful of the Tuatha Dé Danann. No pretty face can cover up what he is, a conniving schemer. His false guise of druid and his fake prophecies cost Maeve a war— cost her the vengeance she had planned for so long against her first husband. I have no idea what you see in him."

  I'm so angry. So angry that I want to smash something, or transport right out of the room so I don't have to deal with her anymore. She just doesn't understand.

  There's one thing I can do to shock her, to let her know how deeply her words offend me. So I look straight at her and I speak in the exact replica of Maeve's voice. "You sound just like Queen Maeve herself, Arden. That's what you want, isn't it? To take her place, and control what I do?"

  She turns white as salt. "Really, Aislinn?" she says quietly. "After everything I did to make it up to you. Everything I left behind."

  Then she turns and walks into her room, and closes the door, and locks it.

  I could transport in there and force her to talk to me, but that would be a severe breach of privacy and she would hate it. So I stand where I am, feeling guilty for my part of our argument. Arden isn't a mother— never has been. She doesn't know how to take on that role for me. She's just trying to help, and all I do is reject her warnings and push her away.

  Like I did with Zane.

  I have to stop doing this to the people I love. Even if I haven't had the best role models for friendship and family, that's no excuse for the way I'm treating the people who dare to tell me I'm wrong. The people who are closest to my heart.

  Following an impulse, I tap on Arden's door. "I'm sorry."

  She doesn't respond.

  "If you want to come with us to the beach, you can. Wynnie, too. We can make a whole thing of it. It'll be fun. And I know how much you love to chaperone."

  A faint, sarcastic laugh from inside the room. I smile.

  "So is that a yes?"

  She opens the door. "Yes, Wynnie and I will go along. And we'll be sure to give you and the Far D— Kieran— plenty of space. I'm sorry for what I said about him— it's an old prejudice, grown strong over time, and it will take time to correct it."

  I nod. "This could be good. You'll get to see him when he's not being the Far Darrig and not covered in druid torture wounds. Maybe you'll see him the way I do."

  "Maybe." She doesn't sound hopeful, but at least she's willing to try. "Oh, and Aislinn— don't ever let me hear her voice come out of your mouth again."

  "I promise."

  Wynnie isn't as excited about the beach as I am, but she goes with me to buy swimsuits the very next day. We choose a modest one-piece for her, with a long coverup that makes her feel comfortable and pretty. I have a coverup already, but for this trip I purchase my first bikini, an emerald green thing that's sexy but still has enough coverage and structure for me to feel comfortable moving around in it.

  Early in the morning, the day after our shopping trip, Kieran picks us up in the Audi. He's got a fun playlist going, snacks, drinks, everything I suggested to make the road trip as happy as possible for Wynnie and Arden. I think it works, because Arden grudgingly gets into the whole karaoke thing— not singing herself, but making requests. Poor Wynnie hasn't heard most of the music, thanks to her years in the druid dungeon— but I can tell she's enjoying the cultural education.

  In a few hours then we're crossing the bridges near Charleston, heading for the Isle of Palms. Dotting the sparkling water are birdlike sailboats, huge vessels loaded with colorful shipping containers, and even a massive cruise ship on its way out to sea. I yell for the others to roll down all the windows, and when Kieran opens the Audi's sun roof I put my hands up and squeal, because I can smell the sea and the breeze feels incredible.

  Going to the beach is bittersweet for me, though. It reminds me of that glorious week Zane and I spent here with his family, right after his graduation. We had so much fun. Sand and surf, sandwiches on the beach and fresh seafood eaten on a restaurant patio at night. Sunburns and sandcastles and stolen kisses when his parents weren't around. Board games and laughter. It was amazing.

  But I'm here with Kieran now. And it's a different kind of wonderful, and I have plans to end this weird stalemate between us.

  We check into our hotel first— one room for the three of us girls, and another for Kieran. The hotel has pools, a lazy river, and direct access to the beach. From the minute I push open the sliding door and step out onto the balcony of our room, I can't wait to get down to the sand. The smell of the salty air goes straight to my head, and I'm beyond excited.

  "Come on, come on!" I say, digging through my bag to find my swimsuit. "Let's go down to the beach right now! It's not too busy, Wynnie, you'll be fine."

  Looking nervous, Wynnie takes her swimsuit and coverup out of her bag. We really need to get the girl some actual therapy to help her deal with everything she went through. It's not like we can take her to a regular human therapist though— who knows what she might say about the druids, and the Korrigan? I make a mental note to ask Kieran if he knows any Fae psychologists.

  Arden and Wynnie are still getting beach-ready, so I dance do
wn to Kieran's door in my bikini and coverup and flip-flops.

  At my knock, he opens the door. "You look excited."

  "It's the beach, Kieran."

  "I've seen it."

  "Well, this is only my second trip to the beach, so yes, I'm excited. And you're coming with me."

  "Do I have to? With all the sand and the sharp shells that try to stab your feet? And the swarms of humans and their little offspring, with their umbrellas and shovels and buckets— and their noise? I'll take you to the Caribbean sometime; there's this little secret beach I know that's perfect. Soft sand, quiet, no people."

  He'll take me to the Caribbean sometime? Um, yes please.

  "You're coming down with us," I say.

  "I'll pass."

  "I really didn't expect to have to beg you to come." I push my lower lip out, just a little. "I thought you'd be excited, too."

  "Aislinn, you're pouting." His smile widens. "You're cute when you pout. Listen, when you've been around a thousand years or so, you'll get over the whole beach thing."

  "Never. I will never get over it. And you're bringing down my mood, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

  His eyes flash a challenge at me, and he crosses his arms. "No."

  Okay, I didn't want to have to do this. I don't even know if it will have any effect on him, but— "I'm wearing a new bikini I bought especially for this trip. If you don't come, you won't get to see me in it."

  His face changes, and my heart rate speeds up. Stepping toward me, he points to the hallway. "Out."

  "What?"

  "Get out so I can change. I'll meet you downstairs, at the gate to the beach."

  Smiling, I back out of the room, and he closes the door behind me.

  Well, that worked.

  Arden and Wynnie and I arrive at the beach gate first, and Kieran shows up a few seconds later, sunglasses on, dark wavy hair in perfect disorder, towel over his shoulder, abs on full display. As he walks past the pool area, I notice heads turning toward him— mostly female.

  But he's mine.

  "Ladies," he says, opening the gate for us.

  Wynnie doesn't cringe when she walks past him— it's progress for her, especially since he's only half-clothed. I think she views him as a fellow torture sufferer, even if he only endured a week of it compared to her years of pain. So they have that in common.

  Plus, he's so hot, and charming. That can't hurt at all.

  Once we're through the gate, I can't help myself. I run ahead, over the dunes and down the slope to the beach. I whip off the cover-up and leave it on the sand and I'm running, running into the surf. It's early fall in South Carolina, so the water is still deliciously warm. I wade further and further— it stays shallow for a long way out.

  When I'm about waist deep, I sink down in the water, letting the waves wash over me. My hair fans out behind me. Just being out here with the sun and sky and the water feels amazing.

  Suddenly a voice whispers, "Shark!" from right behind me. I glance back, and there's nothing, no one— except Kieran, grinning and wading toward me. He's still some distance away— he must have thrown his voice. I stick out my tongue at him.

  In a few minutes he's there, beside me, and I stand up to greet him.

  "I swear you're part merrow," he says. "The way you love the ocean. Can you swim?"

  Embarrassed, I shake my head. "No pool at the Korrigan house. And I couldn't go to a friend's house or a community pool to learn, thanks to the whole monster-during-the-daytime deal."

  "I'll teach you."

  He says it simply, eagerly, like it wouldn't be an inconvenience at all, but a pleasure.

  "Can't I just drain a merrow's powers?"

  He cocks his head. "Of course, but I thought you wouldn't want to. You're on the whole 'this is right' and 'this is wrong' kick, remember?"

  "Maybe if there's one who doesn't want them anymore?"

  "I doubt you'll find one who'll willingly part with them. Maybe a merman, though. Now that's a possibility."

  "Merman?"

  "The male merrows. They're ugly. Very ugly, and often cruel to their women— which is why so many females find human mates and end up living on land, at least for a while. We could get you a nice, cruel, ugly merman so your little conscience won't have a qualm."

  I splash seawater at his face. "Do you have a conscience?"

  "You're my conscience."

  "Not a good answer. You should have your own."

  "I did, but it never worked right. And then it died."

  "There must be some of it left," I say. "After all, you could have forced me to do all kinds of things when we first met— whatever you wanted. And you didn't."

  "It's one rule I have. I never force women to be with me."

  "No?" I reach out and run my finger down his chest. Is it my imagination, or does his breath catch for just a second?

  "No, they just come to me." His sunglasses hide his eyes, but I can tell by the twitch of his lips that he's teasing me. "Except you, of course. You just want to be friends."

  Here's my chance. He's giving me an opportunity to change our status, right now.

  And then— pain.

  Sudden, sharp pain, all over my other hand, and the sensation of something brushing past my arm. More pain.

  "Ow! Ow, ow, ow, sh--!" I jerk my hand out of the water. Kieran backs up a step, and I catch a glimpse of something floating past him.

  "Jellyfish," he says. "Come on."

  "Why does it hurt so freaking much?" Tears are coming into my eyes.

  "The venom. Come back to the shallows, and we'll rub sand on it."

  "Sand? What the heck?"

  "Best remedy, trust me."

  Once we're back in the shallows, we sit in the surf with our legs stretched out and he rubs wet sand over the swollen mass of red bumps on my arm and hand.

  "Jellyfish. Yet another reason to love the beach," he says, smirking.

  "Shut up."

  As he massages my hand, I'm keenly aware of his nearness, the water beading on his skin, the way his hair falls over his forehead in those dark waves. My mouth is dry, and my heart, still racing from the pain, isn't slowing down. My stomach has that fluttery feeling that I love and hate.

  He has always made the moves, said and looked and done things to let me know how he feels, how attracted he is to me. I've never done anything but push back, even when I was flirting. Except when I was high on magic, but that doesn't count.

  There's a sweetness and a seriousness to the way he handles my injury. I notice his left hand again, the missing finger. I remember how he begged me to leave him behind and escape the druids' stronghold on my own, the tears on his face when they drained my Life-Stream away, when they made plans to torture me. It's the only time I've see him cry.

  What am I waiting for?

  There's never going to be a better time to show him how I feel.

  "It's looking a little better," he says, examining the jellyfish sting.

  "So is this what friends do for friends?" I ask.

  He smiles a little and scoops a fresh handful of wet sand. "Maybe."

  "What about this?" I touch his chin and tip his face up, and then I lean in and kiss him. His lips are warm, and salty, and incredible.

  It's a light kiss, for just a few seconds. I pull back, but I can't see his eyes thanks to those sunglasses. His fingers have stopped moving, and he's just holding my sand-covered hand. Slowly he submerges it in the water, wiping the sand away, and brings it back out again. The redness and swelling are starting to disappear.

  "Is the pain going away?" he asks, and his voice is very soft, like a caress.

  "Yes."

  "Then come with me. Right now."

  I don't ask questions. I just follow him. We pass Arden and Wynnie— Wynnie's scrunching her toes in the sand while Arden reads a magazine. They don't seem to notice us.

  We stop by the beach shower for a quick rinse, and then he's pulling me through the hotel doors, into a corner
where no one can see. "Can you take us to my room?" he whispers. I slip my arms around his waist, and he closes his arms around me, and I transport us to his room, just inside the door.

  He backs away from me immediately, throwing the sunglasses on the bed. He's looking at me, searching my eyes, breathing hard.

  "What you did, that—" He runs a hand through his hair. "What did it mean?"

  I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. "I wanted to kiss you."

  "Why? You've been very clear about what you wanted from me."

  "Friendship," I say. "I still want that, but—"

  His hands are clenched, and he's listening to me with every bit of himself.

  "But you know this other thing we have, that I've been fighting— I'm not planning to fight it anymore. And it isn't just because you're gorgeous— it's a lot more. It's something in your soul that just— calls to something in mine."

  I hope it doesn't sound dumb to him, because I mean it, with all of my heart.

  He's so quiet and still. I start to feel very young, and very silly.

  Maybe I'm too late. I've pushed him away too many times.

  He doesn't want me now.

  Then he closes the distance between us and crushes me to him, one hand on my back and one tangled in my hair, kissing me hard; and his kiss is everything, it's myth and magic and reckless fire. I love the warmth and the faint roughness of his lips, and the touch of his tongue. He tastes like mint and the ocean, like heaven and sunshine. He's fierce, unrelenting, and I match his passion with mine, sinking my fingers into the dark waves of his hair, standing on tiptoe so I can get my heartbeat closer to his.

  I can hold him now, I can touch him like I've wanted to for ages.

  We're like two halves that were separated for so long, we couldn't remember what it was like to be whole. But in this moment, we're one. And that sense of completeness makes me happy and crazy and calm inside, all at the same time.

  I belong here. Right here.

  Never breaking the kiss, he backs up and pulls me with him, sitting down on the bed; and I sit across his lap. This kiss needs to be in the lore, for sure. It's epic, in the truest sense, and I feel like my lungs and my heart and my very bones are glowing molten inside me with the heat of it.