by Laney McMann
Mr. Thomas nodded absently and waved me away. My world kept on spinning.
• • •
Max leaned against his car in the parking lot as I came down the front steps in a stupor.
“Tell me you haven’t been here all day.” I smiled, walking up to him.
He smirked. “What if I have?”
“Have you?”
“No. Just pulled up.” He reached his hand out. “Did something happen? You look pale.” His posture went from calm and relaxed to stone still and alert.
“One of my teachers. I think he had a stroke.”
“Oh. I’m … I’m sorry. That’s awful.”
“Yeah, not sure what happened. He went all … weird.” It creeped me out. “Anyway, what’s up?” I tried to shake off the event and distract myself. “Where’s my car?” I turned in a complete circle; it wasn’t in the parking lot where I’d left it.
“At your house. Under the tarp. Where it needs to stay.”
“It’s not that bad.”
He scrunched his eyebrows.
I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t my fault it had been demolished; I was happy it still ran at all.
“Come here.” He put his arms around my waist, and pulled me into him, his cheeks reddening.
“You okay?” He was never shy.
“Better than okay. I just need to get used to us being together like this, is all.” He pulled me into him.
I jerked away. “Meaning?”
He laughed and caught my belt loop, drawing me back again. “Meaning I’ve been waiting, and hoping, to do this in public for a while now.” He lifted my chin, running his fingers over my cheek, and brushed my mouth with his before pressing his lips against mine.
Heat rose to my face.
“Now who’s shy?” he whispered, kissing me again.
“Well, well, who’s the new beau, Layla?” Dena stood on the sidewalk, clad in her three-inch heels and mini skirt, with Devon by her side in dark jeans and button up dress shirt, his hair disheveled as if he’d been rolling around on the ground.
“No one you need to concern yourself with.” I glowered at Devon. How dare he walk over here with her?
“Layla,” he said with a curt, formal nod, making no comment or gesture to Max at all.
“Devon.” I grumbled. “Is there something the two of you need?”
Dena leaned against the hood of the car, the front of her shirt hanging open, and traced Max up and down with her gaze, licking her lips. “I can wait.” A devilish grin spread across her mouth.
In an instant, I was inches from her face, and Benny was inches from mine.
She’d come from nowhere. “Not the time. Not the place, Lay.” She turned to Dena. “I’m sure you have somewhere you need to be.” Her tone was friendly, her smile deadly. “I suggest you be on your way. Now.” Benny gestured down the sidewalk.
“Another time, then.” Dena sauntered off, dragging a sheepish and dazed looking Devon behind her.
I swung around to face Benny. “What the hell was that?”
“You were about to level her! Getting suspended may hamper finals. Unless you’d rather hang out here all summer?”
“You came out of nowhere.”
“I can’t help it if you’re so wrapped up in Max’s arms you don’t notice me walking down the sidewalk.” Her gaze shifted toward my neck.
Max hauled me to him by the arm and pushed my hair behind my shoulder. “What is that?” His tone was menacing.
“Still?” I rubbed at it.
“What’d you mean, still?” He touched the remnants and brought his fingers to his nose.
“Ew! That’s worse than Benny’s spit! Anyway, it doesn’t even hurt.”
His eyes darkened. “That’s because it’s not your blood.”
Cold seeped into my veins like I’d been doused with ice water.
12
Max’s jaw clenched, eyebrows knitted into a scowl as he cornered the road a little too fast and threw the car into third gear.
“Where are we going?” I held onto the door frame.
“I have a surprise,” he said with a bite in his voice.
“Going to elaborate, or should I guess?”
He down-shifted and came to an abrupt stop in front of a beachfront house that appeared encased entirely in glass. The same Pygmy date palms my mom had planted at our house flourished in neatly landscaped bunches throughout the immense green lawn, while Washingtonian palms stood in stately columns, reaching for the second story roof. Gardenias spread out in lush clumps, their pure white blooms contrasting the glossy green leaves and drenching the air in a spicy sweetness.
“Whose house is this?” I asked.
“It’s my house,” he said, cutting the engine.
“Your house?” I raised my eyebrows.
“My house.” He opened his car door.
I climbed out of the passenger side, taking in my surroundings.
The ocean lay visible beyond the sand dunes in a clear blue expanse while the Intracoastal Waterway stretched along the coast behind us.
“Your house?” I repeated again.
“Mine.” He smiled, held out his hand, and led me across the yard.
“I thought you lived with your Grandmother?”
“I do.” He swung the front door open, and I gasped.
Floor to ceiling windows encircled the entire first floor, flooding the house in sunlight and ushering the coast into view from all directions. Dark ebony floors reflected the afternoon light. Max led me past the living room, filled with overstuffed cream colored couches and armchairs, and into the kitchen where he dug around in the refrigerator as I stood there, my gaze darting around the spacious house, up to the soaring ceilings, and over to the gleaming stainless steel appliances.
“Isn’t it a little big?”
He shrugged. “I guess. I haven’t officially moved in yet, so I’ve never really thought about it.
We’ve got … juice, Coke, water? I can make coffee?”
“I like tea.”
He rifled around under the counter.
“Most people don’t have full refrigerators in houses they don’t live in,” I said, trying to catch his attention.
“Roommates,” he said. “I’ll have to remember the tea.” His tone sounded automated, monotone, as he searched through the cabinets.
“Care to explain the house, or are you having fun keeping me in the dark?”
“My mother left me the house.” He paused for second. “I don’t live here because I’m not of age. So my roommates stay here.” He opened a drawer.
I took a step closer and rotated him around, holding his face in my hands. “Don’t shut me out.”
His shoulders relaxed.
“Your mom left you the house?”
“Yeah.” He exhaled. “When I was young. I come over now and then, make sure it’s still standing.” He gave a weak smile. “I wanted to show it to you. I’m moving in soon.”
I frowned. “I thought eighteen was the legal age to live on your own?”
“My grandmother has ways around the system. Anyway, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to shut you out. It’s hard to come here sometimes, but … next time, I’ll have tea.” He grinned and reached for my hand. “Let me show you around.” He raised his hands toward the soaring twenty foot ceilings.
We toured the first floor, every room as beautiful as the next—the same incredible views of the water, the same glowing wood floors. He led me out on the back deck overlooking the ocean, and we leaned against the wood railing.
“It’s beautiful here, Max.”
“Thanks.” His steady gaze fixed toward the water. “My consolation prize. No mother, but an awesome house.” I put my arm around him, unsure what to say.
Since my mom’s house was on the ocean, too, I was already spoiled by the magnificent views of the Atlantic, but there was a magic at Max’s all of its own. I hoped he would know it, too, someday.
As the day faded into a golden a
fternoon light, we settled in Adirondack chairs that had been bleached dull gray by the sun. Six of them lined up facing the water, and we sat in the two closest together. He rubbed his thumb over my hand, seeming lost in thought.
I rested my head against the back of the wooden chair and glanced over at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember about your mom—I shouldn’t have pried.”
He squeezed my hand. “That’s okay. You weren’t prying.”
“Is everything else okay?” He still seemed so distant, staring out at the water.
“Yeah. I’m okay as long as I’m with you.” He sounded unsure we would continue to be together.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Neither am I, Lay.” He smirked. “That’s not what I meant.”
“What is it, then?”
He took a deep breath. “I really don’t know where to begin.”
Here it comes. I knew this was too good to be true.
He squeezed my hand. “I can’t lose you. I know that sounds insane. Especially since you thought I left you. Which I didn’t—not for good, anyway—just so that’s clear.” He ran his fingers through his hair, standing up. “Come on, let’s take a walk.”
Warm water slapped against our ankles as we waded along the shore.
“Layla … we’ve been friends for a really long time.”
“Yeah …”
“What do you remember from our childhood?” He kicked the water.
“The usual stuff.” The caution in my tone was hard to hide. “Playing, hanging out …”
He shook his head. “I mean, what do you remember about where we used to play?”
“I—” I glanced at him, doubt rising. “I remember the forest, the waterfall, the beach …”
He averted his eyes. “Do you remember how we used to get to those places? You know we weren’t here right? I mean, not all the time.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer.
He took a deep breath. “Do you remember your dream? The dream you had the night you were released from the hospital?”
I stopped walking. Of course I remembered it. The question was, how did he? He must have heard what I was thinking because his smile was almost apologetic.
“Please promise me you won’t go running down the beach away from me once you hear what I have to say.”
“It’s really that bad?”
He tilted his head. “Remember in your dream when I told you that you weren’t imagining me? That I was real?”
I stared at him, unable to follow the words.
He bit his bottom lip, holding my gaze. “It was real, Lay. That place. Me. You. You weren’t dreaming, or imagining, or having any ‘vision’.”
What?
“Do you know anything about the Celtic Gods?”
I hesitated at the abrupt change in subject, trying to think straight. “Not … much. I know some people still believe in the myths passed down through the generations, but those legends are all hearsay … folklore.”
“Actually, they’re not,” he said under his breath.
I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “Not what?”
He glanced at me as if he would rather vomit than keep talking. “Hearsay,” he mumbled. “It’s not all hearsay.”
“What do you mean?” My voice sounded shrill.
“I wish you could remember.” He faced the ground. “I’m … a direct descendant of the Gods of Ancient Ireland. The Celtic Gods. I have certain … gifts—abilities, that I was born with.” His words spilled out in a rush. “The Gods were driven underground thousands of years ago, and now the elder generations of Ireland believe we’re Fae, but we aren’t of that race. The Fae are their own species. I’m one of the last of The Ancients.” He practically spit his words at me in a rambling mess and stood as if waiting for some reaction, but he may as well have been speaking Pig Latin for all I understood.
“Sorry? What?” My knees weakened, blood draining from my face.
“Maybe we should sit down.” He motioned toward the sand dunes, which was probably good since my legs were going numb.
He took both of my hands in his. “Just hang in there with me while I say this.” He swallowed. “When I was a kid, I didn’t hear fairy tales like most kids. I heard folklore and legends. My grandmother told me tales of the Gods and Goddesses, legends of The Tree of Life. Tales of the Wood and Water Spirits. Stories about the Fae and the Sidhe. Legends of The Fire Born and Twin Souls. Stories of fate, destiny and prophecy.”
My thoughts scrambled as I gawked at him, dumbfounded.
“It was a fantastical world my grandmother created. She told me I would grow to do great things, that my destiny was foretold, and one day it would make itself known to me. She said my soul would collide with another, and I would know no other love like it.” He’d sped on, not making eye contact with me. “I believed it all, every word, but as I got older, the stories sounded more like old wives tales. The kind of things older generations tell innocent minds for entertainment. So I ignored it, brushed it off, spent more time away from home. It kept me sane during the day, but at night I would have these strange dreams. Almost as if someone was calling me, pulling me forward. Sometimes, I couldn’t wake up.” He paused, eyeing me.
I couldn’t speak.
He bowed his head. “When we were kids, I always felt different around you. I wanted to be near you all the time. It was weird. So, when your mom told me I was putting you in danger by being your friend … I had no choice but to listen to her. I was young; I believed her and stayed away. When I saw you at the shop, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from yours. The same unspoken connection between us was still there. That’s when things began to make sense. That’s when I thought that maybe the stories about colliding souls weren’t myths—that maybe they were true. I’d never known that feeling before, this feeling.” He put the palm of his hand over my heart, increasing my already speeding pulse. “I realized why your mom tried to keep us apart. Because she knew. When you passed out in the shop … well, I almost died on the spot.” He grinned. “Your mom was serious about me not seeing you in the hospital, but I couldn’t stay away. So, I looked for you in the forest that night. I thought maybe you would go back. Maybe seeing me would help you remember. I got lucky. But even the next day you believed you were imagining me. It was crazy. You were blocking everything.”
I started to drown in his voice, in the pictures being drawn in my head.
“When the first attack came, I knew I’d put you in danger. I’d come too close. Your mom was right. It was my fault.”
Panic rose in my throat. “Wait … on the beach behind my house?”
He nodded. “It was me standing behind you. That figure in black was talking to me. I got too close to you.” He bowed his head. “Together we create an energy our enemies can feel. It’s how you were found. I’ve been trying to keep my distance all this time. To protect you without you knowing.” He glanced into my eyes.
My breathing stopped.
He rubbed the top of my hand with his thumb. “I know this a lot to take in. Too much, but you need to know who I am, what I am. You have to remember. It’s important.”
“You’re a … God?” I choked out, a lightheaded daze taking hold.
“Not exactly, no.” He veered his eyes away.
“Not exactly?” I sat, unmoving, numb.
“It’s a bit more … complicated than that. I’m a descendent of the Gods and Goddesses of the ancient world.”
“Do you know how insane this sounds?” I wanted to believe he was mad. Stark raving mad. At least it would make some kind of logical, rational sense, but as my heart beat with every word he spoke, I couldn’t convince myself of it.
He brushed his hand down my cheek. “Look, I know this is way past anything you could ever imagine—that anyone could, but it’s true. It’s completely insane, but true. I’m not crazy.” His crystal eyes seared into mine. “Please, believe me.”
“What
does that mean exactly? You’re immortal? Not human? What?” My head hastened at the thought of what his words could mean.
“No, not immortal, not in this world. In the World of Light, the Otherworld, we’re eternally young. I’m mortal in this world. I can die here.”
I rose to my feet, past comprehension. “I need a minute.”
“Take all the time you need.” He exhaled.
The ocean continued to lap serenely against the shore as though my entire world had not suddenly shifted.
My gaze glued on the shore, I asked, “You believe our souls collided?”
“Yes.” He rose to his feet behind me. “Only like souls can collide. I mean, only a counterpart can find its equal.” He rested his hands on my shoulders. “Lay, our souls collided when we were kids.” He turned me around to face him. “It’s always been you.” He gazed into my eyes—right into my soul.
The cloud of confusion began to lift as I stared back. “That means …” I couldn’t finish. I knew exactly what it meant. I stood waiting for the information I already knew to be confirmed.
His jaw tightened. “It means you’re like me.” He conceded. “It’s why we found each other when we were young. We’ve always been connected. It’s the reason we can hear each other’s thoughts.” He swept the hair from my face, certainty ringing in his voice. “I’ve never been able to get you out of my head. I can’t be away from you without causing myself pain. We are drawn together.” His breathing grew heavier. “We’re Tied, Lay.”
Tied? “That’s why something is after me? Because I’m a descendent of an ancient Irish race?” I choked the words out. The very thought was laughable except that it wasn’t at all funny.
“Partly, yes. It’s why something is after us,” he said in a whisper.
“That’s the reason you came back?”
“No. Running into you at the shop that day was an accident. Letting you see me wasn’t something I planned. Not that way. I’d hoped to make an easier transition.” He dragged his hand through his hair.