Riftkeepers: Prime

by Carrie Whitethorne

  She was relaxing a little now. Despite only just meeting them, they seemed to genuinely care for Zander and Enya. To be fair, they were all family, except for Aoife and Carlie who seemed like part of the family regardless of their race. Carlie was her family.

  “Have you decided what you're going to do?” Carlie asked.

  “About what?” She asked, puzzled the question.

  “After this week. What are you going to do?”

  “Oh. I don't know,” she sighed. “It hasn't come up yet. I have a job. There's school. There's our home…” She trailed off as she thought about it then said, “We can't impose on Callan indefinitely and can't risk Enya flooding the classroom, really can we? I'll work something out.”

  The other three women laughed. “Somehow, I don't think Callan will have a problem with your imposition,” Carlie winked.

  Oh, god do they all know?

  Colour rose in her cheeks.

  “It'll all come right, you'll see,” Aoife smiled warmly.

  They continued to drink, Alayna telling her about Callan and Dagda and their competitive behaviour. Charlotte relaxed, the wine and firelight eased her anxiety over Callan's sudden disappearance.

  As her thoughts drifted back to him, wondering if he was safe, Callan and Dagda returned.

  She scanned him for signs of injury. Nothing. Relief flooded her. She glanced at Dagda. He, too appeared to be unhurt.

  “Again?” Aoife asked, urgently.

  “Yeah. Whoever this is they're growing in power,” Dagda said, furious.

  Charlotte stayed quiet, listening for any clue as to what they were talking about.

  “Where this time?” Carlie asked, rising.

  “Duddo. The same,” Callan's said, his tone grave.

  “That was a powerful site. It's been drained. Nothing left but the hole where the rift was created,” Dagda said, then shook his head and drank the last of the mead he'd left in a glass on the table. “I have people to see. Alayna, I'll see you back at home. Charlotte, it's been a pleasure meeting you.” He strode to Aoife, kissed her cheek, and said, “We'll do this again.” He held Carlie's gaze, an unspoken request, and was gone.

  Whatever this is it's got them all worried. More to get my head round.

  “I assume they were orders,” Alayna rolled her eyes. “Can I drop you at home, Aoife?”

  “Yes, I have some messages to send out. Charlotte,” she turned and pulled her into a warm hug. “Thank you for agreeing to join our little family.” Pulling back, she gave her another warm smile and added, “We'll be back on Thursday, once we've handled this little problem.” She took Alayna's hand and they both disappeared before her.

  “I'll never get used to that,” she mumbled.

  Carlie laughed. “You will. Wait till you try it.” Taking her hands, she said, “It'll all make sense the longer you're here. See you on Thursday.”

  Shaking her arms out, there was a flash of blue light and shimmering dust filled the air where she had stood. Carlie, back in her harrier form, hovered before her, let out a “chitt” and flew. Charlotte watched her circle, high above the house, entranced by the grace of her, before she turned and flew north.

  Callan was taking glasses and jugs into the house when she brought her attention back to the garden. He was tense. She followed him inside.

  “Want to talk about it?” she asked quietly as she closed the door.

  Whatever this is it has you all worried. Dagda especially.

  She tilted her head to the side and waited for a response.

  Callan filled a glass with mead, passed her a fresh glass of wine and made his way into the lounge.

  Slipping off her shoes she settled onto the sofa, tucking her bare feet beneath her, ready to listen. She assumed she would be there a while.

  Callan sat beside her and began, “The weekend we met there was a disturbance. It was a stone circle, Arbor Low, in Derbyshire. I didn't feel it that night. I was too,” he paused and looked at her, his lips tilted up at one side. “Taken up with you,” he huffed out a short laugh.

  He should have been there.

  “Dagda attended. He found the site drained of all its energy. Someone had opened a rift in the centre of the circle, siphoned the power and left a void where they'd drawn it from. We didn't know anyone with that level of power existed. Now we know there are two. Whoever this is, and Zander.”

  Zander?

  Her eyes widened but she didn't interrupt him.

  “There hasn't been an earth wielder born in many thousands of years, the last died in a bloody battle when the Romans attacked the Druids on Mona. The only written record of a Roman named Lucan,” he said.

  “What happened?”

  “According to him,

  Interlacing boughs enclosed a space of darkness and cold shade, and banished the sunlight from above. Gods were worshiped there with savage rites, the altars were heaped with hideous offerings, and every tree was sprinkled with human gore. On these boughs, birds feared to perch; in those covert wild beasts, would not lie down. Legend also told that often the subterranean hollows quaked and bellowed, that yew-trees fell and rose again, that the glare of conflagration came from trees that were not on fire, and that serpents twined and glided round the stems. The people never resorted thither to worship at close quarters, but left the place to the gods. When the sun is in mid-heaven or dark night fills the sky, the priest himself dreads their approach and fears to surprise the lord of the grove.

  Their ignorance brought them to slaughter the druids on sight. They would only allow the worship of their own god.” His voice was thick, face lined with disgust. “The savage attack isn't recorded, just that passage vilifying them. They had no way of defending themselves. Adair, my grandfather, tried to protect them, but he was shot with an arrow.” His shoulders sagged as he ended the harrowing tale.

  How did he recite all that?

  Charlotte felt sick.

  “We aren't truly immortal, we just live a long time. We can and do die. Shooting will do it,” he straightened and turned to face her.

  Taking her hand, he searched her face for some reaction. When none came, he went on, “Now we have a new threat, a nameless, faceless threat. It could be Fae, Druid, Warlock, Demon, we can't tell. We've no way of finding out without catching them mid ritual.”

  “Demon?” She whispered the word. “As in, from hell, evil demon? They're real?”

  This new world she had found herself in was becoming less mystical and more terrifying as the hours passed.

  “Oh, they're real. The portal to the underworld, to their world, is kept by our,” he paused, looking for a fitting description, “brothers of the Un-Seelie Court. We work separately as a rule. We keep the portal to the other-world, we are the Seelie Court. They're known throughout history for spreading mischief and are the source of the tales of, well, wicked fairies. Most wield shadow, usually to conceal, to spread fear. In situations like this, we work closely with them.”

  He took a deep breath and sat back. She didn't want to hear any more.

  Charlotte shuffled closer and he extended an arm. She cuddled into him, resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder. They sat in silence for several, long minutes.

  So much had happened. There was so much to work her thoughts around, to make sense of. It was exhausting. She really needed to get some sleep. If she could sleep.

  “Can we just go to bed?” she asked, looking up at him.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Not… I didn't mean… tsk!” She slapped him on the shoulder as she pulled away.

  A broad smile spread across his face.

  “Your room or mine?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

  “They're all yours. I'd rather not sleep alone after everything I've learned this evening. If that's okay?”

  He kissed her gently. “If that's what you need.”

  Charlotte went to check the children. Both in a deep sleep, she watched them from the door for a few seconds before
leaving them.

  How are they ever going to handle this stuff?

  Callan was already in the bathroom when she closed the bedroom door behind her. She shrugged off her jacket and dug in her bag for nightclothes. Sitting on the bed, brushing her hair she waited for him, curling her toes in the thick carpet, deep in her own thoughts. She didn't look at him immediately as he walked slowly to the bed and knelt at her feet.

  Oh… No wonder he hadn't shown himself as he really is.

  Raising a shaking hand, she touched his cheek. It was his beautiful face. The angles of his jaw, his perfectly sculpted eyebrows framing his deep blue eyes. But, somehow, it wasn't the same. His cheek bones were higher, skin a deeper golden brown. Her eyes were drawn to the pointed teeth that gleamed as he smiled. His hair shone.

  A fairy prince. My fairy prince.

  Her fingers moved to the side of his head, pushing back the hair, and traced the outline of his now pointed ear. She snatched them back and clasped her hands in front of her, not knowing what part of him to look at first.

  He stood up and her eyes slid down his body. He'd always been toned, but in his human form, everything was softer. Now she could see the hard edge of every solid muscle. From the massive expanse of his shoulders, her eyes continued down.

  Her stomach flipped as he reached for her.

  What is he doing with me?

  Taking her hand, he pulled her to her feet. She was trembling as he tucked her hair behind an ear.

  “Okay?” he asked his eyes scanning her face.

  She nodded, “I think so.”

  She rested her hand on his chest. His sandalwood scent strong in her nostrils, heady, she breathed him in and looked up to his face.

  “I'd love to be able to be myself all of the time, but it attracts a lot of unwanted attention,” he said with a soft laugh.

  “Women would be dropping at your feet,” she laughed.

  He kissed the top of her head. “I don't want their attention.”

  Seven years he waited.

  “Why did you wait for me, Callan?” The question hung for several moments before he dropped her hands and went to sit on the bed.

  “Because I love you, Charlotte. From the moment, I saw you, I was drawn to you, I can't explain it.”

  Her chest tightened as her eyes filled with tears.

  “I'm so sorry. They told me what it was like for you. I had no idea you, you,” the words wouldn't come as she moved to him, burying her face in his shoulder. He gently shifted her onto the bed, settling his arm beneath her head.

  “I found you. You're here now and I'm never letting you go again,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I'm never leaving you again,” she whispered back.

  Never, ever leaving him again.

  Despite the wine, again, and the tears, again, she was awake before anyone else. Callan was sleeping beside her, exactly where he'd been when she fell asleep. He hadn't altered his appearance, she lay quietly and studied him. His long, blond eyelashes fanning his cheeks, he looked so peaceful, she didn't dare move. His perfectly straight nose, full, soft lips. She lifted her head slightly to peek at his pointed ear.

  You're laid in bed with a fairy. An actual fairy.

  “You're staring,” Callan grumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

  “You're so pretty,” she giggled as he pushed up on one elbow. “I can't help staring.”

  He was on her like lightning, pinning a hand above her head. She pushed at his chest with her free hand, giggling. He trailed gentle nibbles down her neck, sharp teeth grazing, before pushing up and leaving the bed. “Breakfast time. I'll get on with that. You shower and get the children up. We're going out.”

  “Remember they haven't seen you like… well, like that!” she called after him as he strode into the bathroom. She heard him chuckle as he closed the door. Pushing herself up in bed, she reached for her phone and checked the time.

  Seven. Better ring Fe before I wake the kids.

  Ferne was all questions. She knew Callan could hear so kept her answers brief.

  “So, you're coming home tomorrow?”

  “Erm, not exactly. I'm thinking of staying another week…” She lost her train of thought as Callan strode across the bedroom, a towel hung low on his hips, his hair hanging in damp waves. He was back to his usual self, ears and teeth rounded and human looking.

  “Another week? Shit, Charlotte, you'll be moving in next!”

  He heard her. He twisted to look over his shoulder and muttered, “That isn't such a bad idea,” with a playful grin that reached his twinkling eyes.

  “Yeah…” she said, absent mindedly. Callan chuckled and vanished. She checked herself. “No, of course not. I have to come back but, just not yet. The kids are getting to know Callan's family. Another week won't hurt.”

  “And you? How are you doing? Please don't get your heart broken all over again, Lottie. I can't watch that again. You were wrecked last time.”

  “I'm fine. I'm more than fine, I'm happy. I'll give you a ring on Sunday or Monday. Look after yourself.”

  She ended the call before she could get too emotional.

  My only friend and I'm lying through my teeth to her. Is this how my life will be now? If I'm with Callan I should lie about it? Keep the secrets? What about the kids? Do they have to live a lie too? Is that the price of it?

  Chapter 11

  Zander and Enya were already dressed and sitting on their beds watching TV when she Entered their room.

  “Morning!”

  They jumped up and hugged a side of her each. She sat on Zander's bed and held their hands.

  “We need to talk about Callan,” she said gently.

  They exchanged glances and nodded.

  “We know mummy. Callan's our Dad. Zander told me.” Enya looked uneasy and glanced at her twin.

  “How did you know that, baby? Did someone tell you?” She was careful, she didn't want him to feel he was in trouble.

  He shook his head. “Felt it,” he said with a shrug. “I dunno.”

  “Maybe it's the magic, Mummy?” Enya offered.

  How are they okay with it?

  “Yeah, maybe it is.” She smiled at them both and squeezed their hands.

  “Do you have anything you need me to explain?” she asked.

  Zander shook his head as Enya said, “Nope. We like it here, is Uncle Dagda coming to show us more magic today?”

  Well, I suppose that's that then.

  “Not today, no, he's working. Tomorrow, maybe. Today we're having a day out with Callan. He's downstairs now sorting breakfast. Once we've eaten we'll be leaving.”

  They ran for the door, eager to find out what was planned.

  “Careful on the stairs!” she called after them.

  She made their beds and cracked the window, taking a deep breath as the cool, salty air pushed into the room. The bay beyond stretched east as far as she could see. Mountains loomed in the distance to the north.

  It's beautiful here. But, I don't have enough things for another week. I'll have to make sure I get to a shopping centre of some kind.

  Callan and the children were sat at the central island in the kitchen. Pancakes with honey, orange juice, and a pot of tea were waiting for her.

  “I thought we could see some the island today,” Callan explained, sucking honey from his thumb. “Since everyone else is, busy, we have all day to fill.”

  Both children nodded, mouths too full of sticky pancake to speak.

  “If the offer's still open, we'd like to stay a little bit longer,” Charlotte said, pouring herself a cup of tea.

  A grin spread across his face, and he said, “You can stay for as long as you'd like. This is your home for as long as you want it.”

  She let out the breath she didn't know she was holding and smiled, taking his hand, and squeezing gently said, “Well, then I need a clothes shop.”

  They started their day on the western coast of the island. Their first stop was a clothes shop,
as requested. The visitors centre was a large, renovated barn containing a gift shop, a pottery, a restaurant, and clothing department with a play area outside. Callan took the children to the play area while she browsed the rails. She checked the price tags on some of the most beautiful knitwear she had ever seen and knew she couldn't really afford any of it, but she really needed more than a few days clothing for them all.

  “Pick up whatever you need, I'll cover it,” Callan murmured in her ear. She jumped, not realizing he'd been there and looked past him, anxiously. “They're sat in the cafe with a drink. They're fine. Pick up anything, and I mean anything, that takes your fancy.”

  She shook her head, “I don't want…”

  “I know.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, “I've been on this earth for a very long time. I don't need the money I have. Anything you want.”

  It was pointless arguing.

  How long? Just how old is he?

  Sighing, she turned back to the rails and picked out a couple of tunics, some leggings, and some boots for herself. Callan forced a quilted jacket with fur trimmed hood into her arms. “It's getting cold. You need a warm coat. Pick some out for the children too. Shout when you're ready.” He returned to the children as she balked at the price tag.

  That's more than a week's wages on one coat!

  Once she had picked out a couple of outfits and suitable coats for Enya and Zander, she called Callan.

  Her face was burgundy as the cashier rang the items up and Callan paid.

  They ate an early lunch in the cafe and the children went back to the play area.

  “Please stop glancing at those bags like they're going to bite you. You needed clothes, you have clothes,” Callan said, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance.

  “I'm not used to… Well you know.” She wasn't sure how to explain it.

  “You're not on your own any more. Please, let me look after you, I have a lot to make up for. A few clothes are nothing.” The remorse was thick in his voice as he cupped her cheek.

  “Don't start that again,” she said, pushing his shoulder.

  “Time to go,” he said, collecting the bags, and waving to Zander and Enya.