by Laney McMann
“Indeed.” She smiled. “Teine’s father was a wise man. And a good father. He cared for you very much.” She nodded. “He would not have wanted you to give away your life for his daughter’s. Furthermore, I do not trust the Fomore King’s word, nor should you.”
“I don’t trust him. In fact, I think he’s enjoying toying with me. Like it’s a game to him, but it’s a game I’ll play, if it will secure Layla’s safety. I have to take the risk. I have no choice but to agree to his terms. I hope I am not disappointing you.”
She chuckled slightly. “I have always liked you, child. Always. You are not disappointing me. On the contrary. This is an old fight and one that Elethan enjoys. What is your plan?”
“I’m not sure. I have to find Layla. I have to make sure she’s safe until I go back. The Dryad’s lands, you said? Has there been any other word?”
“No, dear. Justice was to follow the High Road through the Fae Realm in order to access the last known pathway toward the Shadow Realm. Reinforcements would have been sent in at that time. We are not sure how far they made it past the Dryads.”
“My Lady,” I bowed. “Thank you for trying to send me aide. I’m sorry to have caused a larger problem.”
“You have caused nothing. We placed you on this path.” She patted my hand. “And we will always come for you. Please let me know of your plans to return to the Fomore. I will not simply agree to hand you over blindly to our opposition. As you said, you are of the Tuatha Dé. I will expect acknowledgment of the King’s word that you and Teine will remain unharmed before I release you from this realm. After that, we will prepare a plan of our own.” She winked.
My heart warmed. “Yes, My Lady. How do I leave?” I turned in a circle.
“Family simply traverse in and out of the Underground.” She smiled.
My face heated further, and without a thought, I rushed over and hugged her. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” She rubbed my back. “Off you go, now. And one more thing. Teine—she … she may not be exactly as you remember.”
My brow creased.
“Nor will she take kindly to your news of leaving us.”
“I know.”
“And, MacKenzie, this realm or no, the Tie must remain in place. That is imperative.”
I furrowed my brow and nodded. Why wouldn’t it stay in place?
She squeezed my hand and lifted her head up toward me. “The cycle must end, Child.”
20
Layla
Silhouettes of two black-winged birds hovered in the sky above me in tight formation, mirroring the movements of one another as if in play. Carried on the wind’s current, they seemed to float on air, their mid-flight dance perfectly in sync. Calls cried out between them, and they continued their ascent into the heavens. I followed their fluid motion, my gaze tracing their beauty, as shots sounded, and they fell dead at my feet.
The familiar lines of my bedroom came into groggy view under the haze of moonlight. It hadn’t changed at all. Dirty clothes sat in a heap on the floor, a few hanging out of the overstuffed laundry hamper. My untouched laptop sat dormant on my desk. Closet doors hung wide open, my bed still held a mess of pillows and blankets.
How did I get home?
Whispers rose from somewhere in the house, and a line of yellow light bled underneath my bedroom door from the hallway.
“You can’t be serious? Please—tell me you aren’t. Because in case you didn’t know, this is the worst idea you’ve ever had. And I mean, ever.” Justice’s hushed voice met my ears. “And you look like hell.”
“I didn’t exactly have time to take a shower—” The voice was low, hushed.
“You are!” Justice shouted. “You’re actually serious. Man … you’re on your own. I’m not helping, not saying one word to defend you. Nothing.”
“Do you think I like this? You think I have a choice? I’d choose almost anything else. But, what am I supposed to do?”
Max?
“I don’t know, but something’s wrong with her. She keeps passing out.”
“What?”
Max. Definitely Max’s voice. I shot out of bed as if I’d been electrocuted, swaying in a dizzy sort of disbelief from the grogginess of sleep. Running to the bedroom door, I tripped over my feet before I flung it open wide.
Max stood leaning against the wall in the dimly lit hallway, grey eyes glinting as he saw me, and the most brilliant smile spread across his face.
Relief and euphoria collided in a jumble of confusion, as I threw myself into his open arms with no grace, and buried my face in the crook of his neck, sobbing. I clung to him, the fabric of his shirt clenched in my fists.
“Layla.” His voice was ragged and full of relief as he pulled his fingers through my hair, holding me tight. “Thank god you’re okay.”
My cries muffled into his neck, breathing in the sweet smell of his skin, the always-lingering hint of gardenias. “What happened? We started the official search. Justice was at the lead.” I untangled myself, gazing up at him in disbelief. “I looked everywhere for you. Justice, too. We’ve been—“ My words ceased at my sudden awareness of the tension, the stiffness of the air.
Justice’s arms were held tight at his sides, no laughter or relief in his expression.
I eyed him. “You brought me here?”
“I did. After you passed out on me. Again. Mid-flight this time. It was awesome.” He turned and headed down the hallway toward the living room. “It’s late,” he said, his voice drawn. “And besides the fact I don’t want to intrude on your reunion, I’m really tired. So, since your mother isn’t here to kick the gargoyle out, I’m going to sleep on the couch. Goodnight.”
Eyes narrowing, I loosened my grip on Max’s shirt. “What’s going on?”
Sadness, somewhere between agony and desperation, washed the color from his face, as he stared without moving—without smiling, as if all of a sudden seeing me was the worst thing that could’ve possibly happened to him and he might throw up all over the floor.
“Max?” Alarms sounded inside my head, and I backed up, noticing bruises down his jaw-line and across his neck. Deep purple shadows shaded his cheekbone and stood out in dark contrast against his golden skin. Circles lined the wells under his eyes.“You’re hurt.”
He shrugged. “I’m all right. I need to talk to you.” His tone was low and strained with what sounded like a hint of longing. The bright light that had shined so brilliantly in his eyes at first had faded. His gaze roved across my bare shoulders, down to my wrists, and his eyes widened as if he woke up out of a trance. “I … your Oghams?” He reached out, but recoiled, balling his hands into fists.
“I got them back a few days ago. Why didn’t you tell me? That they were gone? Anything?”
He closed his eyes tight, as if thinking about it caused pain. “I didn’t know how. Your mom did some bad things, Lay … I couldn’t bring myself to tell you about this, too. I’m sorry. How did you get them back?”
“I—when you were taken, I fell. From the sky.” I hesitated. I’d been so concerned with finding Max, I hadn’t really given it all that much thought. “My aunt found me. My grandmother said I was dying.” I swallowed hard.
His intake of breath was sharp and quick, like I’d slapped him. “What?” His voice shook, and he took a step toward me, pushing away from the wall.
“There were magical remnants all over my body. Accursed Arts, she said. My grandmother figured out how to reawaken my Oghams to save my life.”
“Lay …” He touched my waist, wrapped me in his arms, and backed me into the bedroom, shoving the door closed with his foot. Lifting my chin, he stared at me, his eyes glistening. “I didn’t know.” His voice cracked. “How didn’t I know? I should have felt it. You needed me.”
“It’s okay.” I touched his cheek, damp under my fingers. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?” He kissed my temple softly and swept his hands down my arms. “I’m so sorry.” He kissed me agai
n. “I should’ve been there.”
“I’m okay. The Shield.” I touched my right shoulder, showing him. “For protection.” I shifted my tank top strap on the left shoulder. “The Triskele. Healing.” I held out my wrists between us. “The Arwen for balance, and The Dara for wisdom.” I wasn’t sure why I was telling him. Maybe to remind myself that they were actually there.
His gaze locked onto mine when I looked back up, and without a word he let go of me and unbuttoned his navy blue oxford shirt and shrugged it off. “I know.”
My breath released in a gasp. His Oghams, the twins to mine, rested across both shoulders and on his wrists, deep green-black against his golden skin, but that wasn’t what took my breath away. The bruises did. Tons of them, all over his body and neck.
“Oh, my god—” Heat flooded through me, and I reached out, trailing my hands lightly over his chest, the tight muscles down his stomach. He shivered, eyes darkening, but I wasn’t sure it was because of the pain. “What the … they did this to you?”
His eyes darkened further as he stared at me without answering, breathing hard. Placing his hands over mine, he moved mine back to my sides with what looked like an immense effort. “They didn’t do it. I did. I wasn’t the most … well behaved prisoner.” His smirk held no warmth, only what had to be contempt. “I did this to myself, trying to get out.” He let go of my hands and held up his right wrist. It bent to the side in an awkward way. “I broke a few bones in the process.” He picked his shirt up off the floor.
I wasn’t sure what to say. I wanted to throw myself into his arms, touch him, kiss him, but he didn’t seem to want that. “How come I didn’t notice the Oghams before? On you, I mean?”
“I didn’t want you to see them, to ask about them, to realize your mom had taken that away from you, too. I thought it would only make it worse. I should’ve known better. And maybe you don’t remember, but Oghams usually blend in with your skin color. Mine have been on fire since I was taken after the attack. I thought it was some warning sign, but maybe it was because you were branded. Did yours burn when you got them back?” He seemed to relax a little.
“They did, so bad I thought I might pass out—actually, I think I did pass out.”
A small, painful smile touched his lips. “No wonder I had scorch marks through my T-shirt.” His head fell back against the wall like he could barely keep it up.
“Why do you look like someone died? Like you’re not glad to see me?”
He tugged his shirt on loosely, not bothering to re-button it. “Lay—seeing your face, looking at you—touching you, it’s all I’ve wanted to do. All I’ve thought about.” He sighed. “I’m glad your grandmother gave you your Oghams back, that she knew how to, but if it wasn’t for me coming back into your life, I doubt they would’ve been necessary. You could’ve gone on with your life, been safe, and never known about anything. Not about being a Fire Born … not about … me.” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, glancing toward his feet. “The Oghams make what I have to say a lot harder. They make our connection stronger. Did your grandmother tell you that?”
I nodded, watching him, the air becoming harder to breathe.
“I don’t know how to say this.” His fingers dragged through his hair, a gesture that stabbed me in the heart. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come—to get out of the Shadow Realm,” he said. “I’m sorry that you worried, but I’m okay.” He sighed. “Nothing happened to me. Not really.”
“Nothing happened to you? You look like you got in a fight—and you lost.”
“Lay, there are things I didn’t know—couldn’t have known. Who I am. Where I come from. Questions I always had. I mean, besides my grandmother, I had no parents.” He shook his head like he thought the idea was insane. “I always trusted your father. He believed in me, and he was the only father figure I’d ever known. And I don’t blame him or anyone for what happened, but I met my father—Elethan. King Elethan.” It sounded like he had a hard time saying the name out loud. “I’m—” He swallowed. “I’m the heir to the Fomore throne.”
I exhaled.
His eyes narrowed. “You knew? You know.” It came out as an accusation.
“I found out right before the attack. Before I came to your house. It wasn’t exactly the right time to tell you.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened. “Right.”
“Max, I don’t give a damn about your blood, who you are, or where you’re from. No one does. I couldn’t care less.”
“It changes things.”
“What things does it change? They took you. We’ve been worried sick. I haven’t slept or eaten in days, and you’re telling me nothing really happened to you, even though you look like you were dragged behind a truck? When, the whole time, you’ve just been hanging out with your dad—who, by the way, is the King of the Fomore?” I shouted the question. “Maybe it changes something for you to know Elethan is your birth father, but it changes nothing for me. You aren’t one of them.”
He smiled in a painful way. “Layla … this war—it’ll never end. You were right when you left before. Your mom was right. Our people hate each other.”
“Our people?” I growled. “We have the same people!”
“Lay …” His voice was soft, concerned. “That came out wrong.”
“Don’t. Just—don’t.” I backed up a step, fighting with what he was saying, the complete absurdity of it.
“Remember when I told you that you were all I ever wanted? All I would ever want?” His eyes pleaded with me. “You are. That’s just it. I love you too much to do this anymore. I’m the reason you’re in danger. Me. How can I live with that? I never should have come back after you saw me. It was selfish and wrong. I promised to protect you. I gave my word.”
I backed into the side the bed, trepidation rolling over me in waves.
He glanced toward the ceiling and down again, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can stop this. End this. I can make you safe. I can give you that. I can’t—” His voice broke, gaze sweeping over me again, awash with pain. “The Fomore will lay down their arms, if I walk away from you.” The statement came out as the softest of whispers and the loudest of screams, all at the same time.
Whatever air I had in my lungs disappeared. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might rip free. “Oh, my god.” The words rushed out in a gasp. “You agreed.”
He nodded, gazing into my eyes finally. “I’m going to. I have to.” A slight sheen reflected off his cheeks. “Maybe it will break the curse.”
“So, you’re giving up, then? Giving in?” I glared at him. “Letting them win.” I knew it was a cruel thing to say, but I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.
His mouth opened before he closed it and ground his teeth audibly as he glared back at me. “No, I’m not giving up.” He stood tall, anger marking the angles in his face. “I am making the best decision I can out of the worst situation possible. You think I like this? You think it’s not killing me? Are you kidding?” He thrust his hands out. “It’s taking every ounce of control I have to just stand here and not touch you.” He held my stare fiercely, and my cheeks flushed with heat. “But, if I can stop the curse … if I can end it … I will. I won’t be forced to hurt you, Layla. Not like that. This could be the only way to end everything—to make it all stop.”
“So, I’ll be safe—just without you.” The catch in my throat was impossible to hide. “What kind of life is that? Do you know?” My volume grew. “Do you? Because I know. I lived that life. For years, I lived it. Without you. And I’d never been more miserable. I’d rather fight everyday to keep you near me than have you walk away. I’d rather pay that price, Max. I’m not afraid to pay it. I can’t believe you’re standing here telling me that you are.” His jaw dropped. “The day I told you I was in—on opening night—I meant it.”
“You walked away from me, remember?” He clenched his jaw. “You left me. So don’t tell me this is all my fault. You chose to run because you t
hought you were protecting me. How is this any different?” He yelled the question.
“Because I was wrong!” My weight gave, along with all the strength I’d been clinging to, and I sank against the edge of the bed. “Okay? Because I was wrong.”
Max’s breath caught, eyes brightening. “Lay …” His voice was low and rough.
“I don’t want my safety,” I whispered, staring up at him. “I want you.”
The light in his eyes flared bright, his breath released on a gasp, as if he’d been holding it, and his mouth was against mine before I’d even realized he’d moved. A spark of electric current coursed through my body as his lips parted my own, soft and gentle before an urgency took over.
His fingers tangled in my hair, his tongue warm in my mouth, and I tasted the tang of salt and blood on his lips. His hands gripped my shoulders, running up and down my body, and under the hem of my shirt. Lightning struck outside the window, and a blaze of green lit up the bedroom. Desperate, hungry kisses coursed down my throat, over the Oghams on my shoulders, across my collar bone. Max’s open hand, rough with calluses, caressed my bare stomach, and my body heated like an open flame. Eyes darkening, his muscles tensed, and he picked me up, laying me back on the bed, sealing our bodies together. Lifting his shirt, my fingers caressed his back, his waist, and a soft moan escaped his throat as he kissed me harder, his hand traveling over my ribcage.
Thunder clapped outside, followed by a grinding noise, like tearing, and drops of water hit the sheets near my cheek.
Max froze. “I’m sorry.” He gently kissed me again and pulled his hand away, straightening my disheveled shirt. “I kind of attacked you.” Adjusting his weight, he pushed up onto his arms, hovering above me.
I pulled him back down. “I wanted you to.”
Moaning, he kissed me again before he rolled off of me onto the bed. Another drop of water hit my cheek from the ceiling. “Don’t you see?” He pointed up where a small hole had been torn from the roof. “I can’t even get close to you without ripping the house apart.” He draped his arm over his eyes. “I’m making everything worse by staying here. It only makes it harder to say I can’t see you anymore.”