‘Oh, poor you …’
‘Don’t worry, they’ll soon come round. They always let me get away with anything, in the end. Oh, look – your mam came round to see if you were there and is going mental. Obviously runs in the family!’
Carla’s brain again snapped back into action – a rush of guilt. ‘Quick, give me your phone, I need to send her a text to say I’m safe.’
He turned his naked shoulder to her, tapping at the screen. ‘I’ll text for you. How’s this? Hi Dianne, this is Killian and I have Carla with me and we’re fine.’ Without waiting for Carla’s approval, he hit ‘send’.
She sighed, sitting with her arms wrapped around her soggy trackies, chin on her knees. ‘Thank you.’
He shot her a silver glance from under long gold lashes. ‘Because we are fine, aren’t we?’
She squeezed her calves tighter. ‘Mm …’ A pink mist of happiness was filling her skull, occupying the space where her brains should be.
Carla, you fool.
With a satisfied smile, he went back to his phone – then scowled. ‘Oh, for feck’s sake, Lorcan.’
‘What?’
He showed her the screen angrily. ‘Looks like he live-streamed his stupid video to Facebook, and now it’s been uploaded to YouTube.’
The YouTube video started with a brief glimpse of Killian with closed eyes as the pooka tried to kiss him, then a blurred split second of Carla throwing herself on the pooka, then Killian having a screaming fit, then the pooka rushing from the bed towards Carla (Carla was out of sight at that point, but her voice could be heard howling: ‘Killian, run!’), then the pooka charging out through the balcony doors into the rain and disappearing into the dark. The act of Carla grabbing the knife and cutting the pooka’s throat had been completely obscured by the angle – the huge body blotting her from view. The video cut back to Killian’s terrified face, still screaming wildly.
And then cut off.
Unbelievably, the whole clip was only nine seconds long. It had been captioned: Mad Irish girl pranks screaming boyfriend with gorilla suit! and had already been liked and shared over 10,157 times … 10,161 … 10,179 … Going viral.
Killian sat playing it again, jaw twitching. A dark red flush was creeping up over his cheeks. ‘This isn’t funny. Look at my face. I’m screaming like a girl. Ugh. I can’t believe Aoife did this to me …’
Carla, who had been reliving that absolutely terrifying moment when she’d known she was going to die, said faintly, ‘Do you really, really think that was Aoife in a gorilla suit, Killian?’
‘I can’t believe she’s such a liar. She told me to come up to my bedroom and close my eyes and just lie there, and so obviously I thought she was about to … you know, do something sweet for my birthday. And the next minute, everyone was in my bedroom, roaring with laughter! And now I suppose the whole of Kilduff will see this. Ugh, I can’t believe she did this to me …’ He glared at Carla with renewed suspicion. ‘Are you sure you weren’t in on this?’
She didn’t answer him – she was too busy sitting staring at him with her mouth stupidly open, thinking how incredible it was that people could refuse to believe the evidence of their own eyes.
He snapped, ‘Were you?’
She gasped, jerked back to the present moment. ‘What? No … What? Come on, Killian – look at the video properly. I was trying to save you from a shape-shifting demon!’ There, she’d said it. It was out.
‘You were? Seriously?’ He studied her closely – his silver eyes gazing deep into her brown ones. And then he nodded, as if satisfied with what he saw. ‘OK. You’re telling the truth – I can always tell with you. I suppose Aoife must have had you fooled with the gorilla suit too, and you were trying to protect me.’ He patted her arm and added with a touch of affection, ‘Silly old Carla.’
She was gaping at him again: ‘Killian, did you even hear what I just said?’
But he had returned to the video, his cheeks growing tight with anger under his high cheekbones. ‘I’ve half a mind to dump her for this. It’s so disloyal and stupid of her. I can’t believe I fell for her. I thought she was different but she was just another stupid girl all along.’ He looked up, eyes glittering with tears of rejection and humiliation. ‘Don’t you think it was a mean thing for her to do to me?’
‘I guess so …’ Carla was experiencing a moment of terrible temptation, almost as bad as when ‘Aoife’ had offered her a love potion. If she said something rude about Aoife right now (and it wouldn’t even be about the real Aoife), maybe he would take her back on the rebound … With a shudder, she shook the temptation off. ‘We really should get going.’
But by now he had worked himself up into a petulant sulk. ‘No. Let’s stay here. I don’t want to see her.’
‘But I have to go and find her …’
‘No!’
With a sigh, and a last long look at his pouting beauty, Carla stood up and took down her half-dry hoodie from above the stove. ‘OK, that’s fine. I’ll walk.’
As she reached the door, he cried, ‘Wait!’
With a sigh, she looked back. He jumped up and came over to her. When he reached her, he took her hands and kissed her, far more lingeringly than he had the first time. And then drew back, murmuring, ‘I’m not letting you go to some strange boy’s house all alone.’
Carla said faintly through her pink haze, ‘He’s not a strange boy and Aoife’s there.’
‘I don’t want you going near her either. I bet she’s planning to run off again, with Lois this time.’
And suddenly she was sick of pretending. Killian had said he could always tell when she was telling the truth. She was going to test the theory. ‘Actually, Aoife’s not there.’
‘Oh – what?’ His gaze darkened. ‘But then why …’
‘I’m going to the Glen because there’s a boy there who’s a fairy. I want him to grant me a wish.’
He barked with startled amusement. ‘Are you kidding me? That’s fantastic, I’ve always wanted a pot of gold.’
‘Oh, Killian.’ Depression overwhelmed her. She was wrong. There was no point in telling him the truth.
‘Anyway.’ He was drawing her back across the kitchen towards the cushions. ‘Anyway, you can’t leave me now. It’s my birthday in …’ He checked his phone. ‘In less than five minutes. You have to at least stay to wish me happy birthday. I’m sick of girls running off on me when I’m just about to turn sixteen.’
‘Killian, I can’t …’
But already he was pulling her down beside him. And that old pink sticky sugary haze of love was filling up the space where her brains should have been. Blocking out the obvious fact that he was only flirting with her again because he was so angry with ‘Aoife’ for frightening him into looking ridiculous in front of the whole world.
‘Leprechauns!’ He was laughing still. ‘That’s hilarious. Did Aoife tell you there was a leprechaun in the Glen? Like she pretended to be a shape-shifting demon? You’re so silly.’
‘Killian …’
‘I’m not being mean. I love that you’re so naïve. You’re sweet and ridiculous and funny. I love you, Carla.’ He cupped her face in his hands and placed his beautiful mouth firmly on hers.
A few seconds later, as she sat drifting in her pink mist, he drew back and checked his phone – a slight smile on his mouth. Not his usual boy-band smile but an older, more adult smile that lifted only one corner of his mouth. ‘Midnight! Wish me happy birthday, Carla.’
‘Happy birthday,’ she breathed.
‘Thank you.’ He smiled back at her.
And her brains really were made of candyfloss, because it seemed to her that even in that slight moment of crossing the line of midnight, he had changed. Taller and broader again. The bones of his face as beautiful as the lines of a violin. His hair glowing in the blue light coming from the gas stoves.
His tilted eyes even brighter, and yet at the same time, due to the size of his black pupils …
Darker.<
br />
He leaned forward, and kissed her again.
CHAPTER TEN
Carla woke in a panic. The gas had run out, the stoves were cold and the light through the window was grey. Killian lay face down on the pile of cushions. She grabbed for his phone. Seven in the morning.
‘Killian, wake up!’
He groaned, ‘Don’t want to wake up.’
‘Please! I have to go and find this boy, right now! If you’re not coming, I’ll go by myself.’
‘Oh, for— OK, OK. Let’s go see your precious leprechaun.’
As they rode through the pink and frosty dawn, her panic began to fade. After all, time was still on her side. Her accidental night with Killian had lasted less than five extra minutes in the fairy world. Hopefully, Aoife would still be alive.
For now, there was nothing more she could do.
It was a beautiful morning. The bike was making a comforting puttering sound as they buzzed along the edge of the world between the silvered land and sapphire sea. The sun was out, and the rain completely gone – just a hint of sparkle in the sharp, cold air. Carla tightened her arms round Killian’s flat stomach, pressing her cheek against his dry, warm shirt.
The pink crept back into her misty brain.
Although it was only just after seven in the morning, Ultan was already up and about, standing on a stepladder, tying a string of charm bracelets and nickel-plated angels between two drainpipes. As the motorbike eased up the driveway, he jumped off the ladder and strode towards them with his arms held wide and a huge grin on his face. ‘Carla! The hero of the hour!’
Leaving Killian to settle the bike, she jumped off and gave the changeling boy a big hug. ‘I didn’t think you’d be up this early!’
‘I’m always up.’ Ultan returned the hug with vigour, nearly lifting her off her feet. He was dressed in a thick brown fleece and heavy jeans, and was looking much happier and healthier than when she’d last seen him: slightly slimmer, with a windswept colour in his cheeks, as if the air of his long-lost childhood suited him. ‘Dad still lives on farmer’s time, so myself and cousin Grainne do as well.’
‘I hope you don’t mind, I’ve brought my—’ (She caught herself – was Killian her boyfriend now? He hadn’t actually officially asked for them to get back together.)
‘Killian,’ said Killian politely, holding out his hand. ‘I’m Carla’s boyfriend. Carla tells me you’re a leprechaun.’
‘Killian, stop that!’ But she was too happy with him to be angry with him – she just spluttered with laughter.
The red-headed teenage boy shot Carla a look of hurt surprise. ‘I’m not a leprechaun, that’s pure patronizing. I’m a child of the Tuatha Dé Danann.’
Ashamed, she choked back her amusement. ‘Ultan, I never thought you were a leprechaun. That’s just Killian trying to be funny.’
‘Really?’ He shot Killian a foul look. ‘OK, whatever. Come on inside, the tea is made. Just don’t step on the special protective runes – they’ve taken me all week.’
Carla hurried after him towards the kitchen door. ‘I’ve got bad news about Aoife.’
He said over his shoulder: ‘I know; she’s a pooka.’
‘You knew that?’
‘The magic book told me how you defeated her and saved your boyfriend from having his head ripped off.’
‘You’ve got a magic book?’
‘I certainly do, and it’s way better than Caitlin McGreevey’s magic book that she stole off the druids … Careful!’
‘What? Oh, sorry, sorry.’ There was a very intricate series of white-stone-and-blue-glass spirals laid out down the centre of the driveway. She skirted the wet concrete. ‘Ultan, listen – this means the real Aoife is still in the fairy world!’
‘It does?’ He turned to her on the kitchen step with a look of amazed relief. ‘Thank the Lord for that! So, it wasn’t that she was a shape-shifting demon all the time?’
‘No – what? Surely you didn’t think …’
‘Well, that’s a weight off. I’ll see if I can find us a few biscuits to celebrate. Just keep the noise down because Dad’s having his early morning nap.’ And he carried on into the kitchen.
Killian caught Carla by the arm and held her back. ‘Does this bogger really think he’s a leprechaun?’
‘Not a leprechaun – a child of the Tuatha Dé Danann.’
‘Whatever. Jesus. It’s all very inbred out here.’
In the kitchen, Ultan’s father was snoozing peacefully in a plastic-covered armchair by the gas fire, with a finished bowl of porridge on a tray on his lap. Ultan whipped away the tray to the sink, then returned with a teapot to the kitchen table, setting it next to an open laptop.
Carla was waiting for him. ‘Ultan …’
Ultan held up one hand. ‘Look, I know well what you’re going to say, but I can’t be going back to check if Aoife’s all right, even if I knew which bog hole I fell down the last time, which I don’t. Dad can’t bear it if I’m out of his sight for two minutes – supposing I end up gone for another thirty-one years? Anyway, Aoife’s a fairy queen, she’s very tough – extra powers and everything. If anyone can look after her, it’s herself.’
‘Actually, what I was going to suggest was—’
‘Ssh! Dad’s after waking up. Never mind, he probably just wants his tea.’ He brought one of the mugs over to the little stool beside his father. ‘There you go, Dad.’
Carla followed him. ‘Ultan …’
He was on tiptoe now, rummaging through a cupboard. ‘I can never find … why does Grainne keep hiding the biscuits? She’s very mean with the housekeeping, not like my mam. No wonder I’ve lost weight.’
‘Ultan, leave the biscuits.’
‘Dad hates a cup of tea without a biscuit.’
‘Ultan!’
‘Work away. I’m listening.’
‘I need your father to make a wish to get Aoife back.’
Letting the cupboard door slam, he turned to her in surprise. ‘A wish? Off who? Oh, off me? Oh my goodness.’ The changeling boy got all pink and flustered, sitting down heavily at the kitchen table, behind the teapot. ‘I don’t know about that. I don’t know if I can do that sort of thing – I’ve never granted a wish in my life. I mean, it’s an honour to be asked and all that, but I’m not a powerful fairy, I’m a bit of a late starter, to be honest. Caitlin always said I was too humanized and she’s probably right. Anyway …’ He cheered up as he splashed out three more mugfuls. ‘Dad’s never met Aoife so how would he know who he was wishing for? We might get the wrong Aoife O’Connor altogether. Some aul one he remembers from childhood. Now, have some tea.’
‘Oh.’ Carla clutched her hair. ‘You’re right. I’m an eejit. I’ll go and get Nan.’
‘Or what about me? I could do it.’ Killian was leaning – grinning – in the doorway.
Carla breathed again, in gratitude. Killian might not believe in any of this, but he could still say the words and surely that was enough. ‘OK, good – but we have to be very, very specific. You have to say, “I wish the Aoife O’Connor who is fifteen and who is also the Queen of the Tuatha Dé Danann was right here, in this kitchen beside me, right now.” Hang on, I’ll write it down … Ultan, do you have a pen?’
But without waiting, Killian said, ‘I wish—’
‘Stop!’ Ultan flapped his hands in panic. ‘You don’t know what might happen if you get this wrong. Suppose I grant the wish “quair”? Fairies can do that, if a wish doesn’t suit them.’
Carla protested, ‘But you wouldn’t!’
‘Or what if Aoife gets angry with us for yanking her out of there without warning? I mean, she probably has everything sorted by now and is living a grand life.’
‘Ultan! The zookeeper was dragging her away!’
‘Then supposing he has her in the cage and she has chains attached to her legs and we end up pulling her in half?’
Carla gasped, ‘Oh my God, that’s gross!’
Ultan gulped wildly at his
tea. ‘I’m sorry, but you have to think of these things!’
Killian was laughing, rolling his eyes. ‘Come on, Carla, let’s go and find a real leprechaun.’
‘No!’ Ultan spluttered out a mouthful of hot liquid. ‘Mother of God, who believes in leprechauns these days? Mam always said they were a tissue of patronizing English lies …’
Carla patted his broad back as he coughed. ‘Look, how about we start by wishing for something small? Killian’s never done this before either, so he’s got all three wishes, so I guess we can spare one of them to practise with.’
‘Something small?’ Ultan’s shoulders relaxed slightly under his fleece. ‘How small?’
‘I don’t know – what do you suggest?’
‘Let me think.’ He was looking interested now. ‘I suppose nothing too heavy or awkward that might crash-land on top of Dad. Something small and soft. Maybe a toilet roll? That way, if it works, we wouldn’t be wasting a wish.’
Killian was laughing even harder now. ‘Fine. I wish—’
‘Stop! Wait!’ Ultan panicked again. ‘Don’t just spring it on me! I have to be in the zone. My mam says a “granting fairy” has to be in the zone. Let me picture granting a wish.’
‘Ready? I wish—’
‘No! Stop! Wait!’ Ultan adjusted his position on the chair, took a deep shuddering breath, laid his hands on the table palms down, as if he were about to conduct a séance. ‘OK. I’m in the zone. Hit me … No, wait!’ He seized his tea, took another long mouthful, then sank back again, eyes closed. ‘OK, I’m sound. Give it your best shot.’
Killian cried merrily, ‘I wish for a toilet roll!’
The effect on Ultan was immediate and startling. He threw his head back in the air and started shaking and groaning and gasping for breath, gripping the seat of the chair and throwing himself from side to side until he fell to the floor with a mighty crash and lay there with his legs drumming, howling at the top of his voice, ‘Your wish is granted! Your wish is granted!’
Killian doubled over, in eye-watering hysterics.
Simultaneously, something dark squeezed through the plaster of the ceiling, dropped onto the kitchen table, rolled and fell onto the floor, unwound itself across the tiles and came to a rest at Killian’s foot.
The Hawthorn Crown Page 10