Just Believe

by Manning

  “Come on.” He got up and held a hand down to her. She laid hers in his. The fit choked him. He swallowed the feeling he was refusing the greatest gift anyone had ever offered him.

  But he shoved aside his regret. It was useless to get mired down in something he couldn't help. And they had enough problems without the two of them getting mixed up together.

  Still he hated it.

  “Here you go,” he said, stepping across the narrow hallway and retrieving her overnight bag. “Get your nightgown on and brush your teeth. You need to get to bed, I mean, sleep.”

  She nodded and slowly shut the door in his face.

  He waited in the small bedroom where they would both have to try to get some sleep tonight. Both aware of the other. Both wanting the other.

  “Damn!” he muttered in frustration. Why couldn't he have been born just a man. A plain vanilla, mortal man?

  Even as the thought shimmered through his mind, he knew it for the treachery it was. He was what he was. Annabelle had accepted it readily enough. Of course, she got her fey side from her father.

  “Your turn,” she said, slipping into the room on silent bare feet.

  “Thanks.” He grabbed his bag and made a quick getaway.

  ~*~

  He was gone for a long time. Once it sunk into her head he wasn't coming back tonight, Annabelle curled under the thick downy comforter and snuggled into the marshmallow soft mattress. She'd slept alone since she was a baby—except for the times thunder and lightning or a particularly good scary story had sent her dashing into her parents’ king-sized bed. Why did she feel so alone? This was no different from any other night.

  Oh, yes, it is. It's different from last night, she thought, when Gaelen's big body had curved behind hers, heating her through and making her feel safe.

  Just like those long-gone nights when her imagination's overwork produced a closet teeming with monsters which preyed on little girls who couldn't fall asleep, every clatter of the old house exploded in her ears. She peered into the dark, seeing in the shadows the forms the sounds suggested.

  A grown woman shouldn't be so jumpy. But her scolding didn't stop her from starting at the sound of voices outside her door.

  “This is the one, is it?” This was broken by a whisper, too low to tell anything about the speaker. “Awww, never mind, now. ‘Tisn't as though she can get away.”

  Refusing to think about what that might mean, she forced herself to lay still and concentrate on the voice. The man's voice was familiar.

  Again the whispering voice scratched at the door.

  “No, no,” the man replied. “I saw the big yellow-haired lad leaving here about ten minutes ago. He'll be going to the pub for a drink before last call. We've got plenty of time. Now stand back and let me do my work.”

  The doorknob rattled. Annabelle jumped out of the bed, looking for an escape route. One glance around told her nobody but Santa Claus could get out of the room without going through the door.

  Not really knowing where the inspiration came from, she yanked two overstuffed pillows into the rough shape of a body and threw the comforter back up over the lump. Just as the knob rattled again and a splinter of light sliced into the room, she dropped to the spotlessly clean floor and slid under the bed, not stopping until she hit the wall.

  Two sets of feet entered the room. The first to reach the bed were large, inside heavy-soled work boots. She could see the deep treads caked with mud.

  “Here you go, darlin'. Time to wake up!”

  A pause of silence broke the sound of speech. Annabelle caught her breath, fearing her thumping heart would wake everyone in town.

  “What the hell?”

  “Where is she?” The whisperer's voice, closer with no door between them, was identifiable. Dr. Duncan's small feet appeared at the side of the bed in Annabelle's line of sight, then scampered to the window where Annabelle could hear her shaking the window, testing the lock. “She didn't go out this way unless she's sprouted wings.”

  The man chuckled. “Not likely with Dr. Riley around.”

  What did that mean?

  But she didn't have time to worry about that. The man dropped to his knees beside the bed, obviously to take a look underneath.

  Where to go now? Annabelle scrunched closer to the wall.

  The bedspread. It hung further on this side, hidden against the wall, layered on the floor. She grabbed a handful and pulled it over her, covering herself with it like a shroud.

  Would this be enough? She could see a shadowy outline through the thin material. Surely the man would be able to see her, even in the darkness under the bed.

  Her heart jumped in her throat. She couldn't have breathed even if she hadn't been afraid to.

  His face appeared upside down peering under the bed.

  He's got me.

  Gaelen where are you?

  ~*~

  Gaelen stood behind the rented Mercedes, pawing through the things in the trunk. He'd come down to get their precious supply of ointment, so he could keep an eye on it. It was the only thing they had which couldn't be replaced easily.

  He hefted the bag their supplies were in: the iron knife, the salt, and the crystal bottle of ointment.

  Better be getting back to the room and get some sleep.

  Still he stood there, waiting.

  What if she were still awake? Would she still have that hurt look in her eyes?

  Maybe I should sleep in the car? Nothing could come of getting too close to her. She'll be hurt. I'll be hurt.

  Too late, bucko. Too late.

  He slammed the trunk lid. “Damn, Lucas! This is all your fault, little brother.” Promising his brother all manner of punishment in this world and the next, Gaelen stomped up the street to Mrs. O'Hara's small establishment. A muttered threat to Lucas's well-being froze on his lips unspoken.

  He stopped beside the panel van in front of Mrs. O'Hara's that hadn't been there when he'd left. He slammed through the front door, eyes up. His heart fell to the soles of his feet when he saw the door to the small bedroom open. The room where he'd left Annabelle.

  He took the narrow stairway three steps at a time.

  One of Linette Duncan's pet fairy mercs knelt down by the bed, his head low.

  “Not under here, Doc.”

  “Are you sure?” Linette started to drop to her knees to take her own look underneath.

  Gaelen searched the room.

  Annabelle, where are you?

  “Looking for something, Linette, my song bird?”

  Linette jerked up straight but didn't answer.

  Her pet also straightened. He glanced between Linette and Gaelen.

  “What have you done with her?” Gaelen asked.

  “Nothing.”

  He dropped the bag and crossed the room in two strides, his hands on Linette's thin neck before he could stop himself. The merc jumped, hands up. Gaelen backhanded him across the room. He spared the merc a glance.

  “Stay out of this,” he growled.

  Linette struggled, her hands clawing at his fingers wrapped around her throat. “Let go of me! Frank!” she called to the merc sitting on the floor.

  “If he gets off his ass, I'll squeeze everything out of you. So sit still, Frank.” Gaelen loosened his fingers. “Where is she, Linette? I swear before Dana herself, if you've done anything with her—”

  Linette shook her head as much as she could with Gaelen holding her by the neck. “I haven't touched your precious mortal woman.”

  “Where is she?” he asked for the final time between clenched teeth.

  “I don't know.” As Gaelen's fingers tightened again, she sputtered, “She wasn't here when we came in. I swear.”

  “I left her here. Right here.” He squeezed tighter. “Tell me, you treacherous pixie bitch or I'll...”

  Linette's gurgle filled the room.

  “Gaelen?” Annabelle's voice drifted from under the bed. She scrambled up on the far side, squeezed between the bed and
the wall. He glanced up at her and saw her face assume a mask of horror. “What are you doing? Let her go!”

  Relief made him weak. He let Linette go and she dropped to the floor. She scampered over to Frank, who'd obediently kept his seat on the floor.

  Annabelle stared at him.

  Frank stared at him.

  Linette was the only one who didn't. “So, Gaelen,” she said in a croak. “You and your brother both, law breakers, eh? A double trial, then. Such an event it will be.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know perfectly well. You've been consorting with a mortal woman. You've exposed yourself to her, haven't you?”

  “I wish,” Annabelle muttered, crossing her arms.

  Frank snickered.

  “Shut up!” Gaelen and Linette shouted in one voice.

  Gaelen's brow tightened in a frown at Annabelle. “Let me handle this.”

  “Like you were handling it just now?” She shook her head. “No thanks. Don't know what Irish prisons are like, but I'd really hate to have to explain a dead pixie in our room.”

  Linette glared at him. “You've exposed me, too?”

  Annabelle clambered over the bed. “You know, you fairy people—”

  “I'm not a damned fairy,” Linette said.

  “Sorry. You immortal people worry way too much about whether anybody believes in you or not.”

  “That's easy for you to say, lass,” Frank said, his words trailing off as he met Gaelen's gaze. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I know. Shut up.” He folded his hands in his lap.

  “Look here, Gaelen. I was ordered to bring her to the Council of Elders.”

  “Why?”

  She didn't answer.

  “Because she told them you and I were lovers.” Annabelle's voice filled the empty air. “That makes you guilty of breaking the law.”

  Linette laughed. “This isn't about sex, you stupid mortal.”

  At a growl from Gaelen, she backed away from him, a very satisfying reaction from his point of view. Once out of his reach, however, she regained her confidence.

  “It's about revealing ourselves.” She tossed Gaelen a saucy look. “If you'd been half the scholar you pride yourself on being, you'd know that. But, I guess our records aren't a fit subject of study for you, Dr. Riley.”

  “What?”

  “That's right, Gaelen, me boyo,” Linette crowed with a smirk. “The law forbids revealing one's nature to a mortal. You can boink ‘em to your heart's content.”

  “Where did you find this out?”

  “In the Great Library. Where you'd be doing your work if you had any ethnic pride at all.”

  Her words struck so close to his conscience, Gaelen couldn't respond. Annabelle, however, had no such impediment.

  “I don't see you practicing fairy medicine, Dr. Duncan.”

  “I am a pixie!” Linette snapped her mouth shut. “I am a pixie,” she said more calmly. “I am a distant cousin of the Irish fairies.” Glaring at Gaelen, she added, “A close enough connection, I assure you.”

  “What now?” Annabelle knelt on the bed, arms crossed.

  Linette's green eyes flicked between Gaelen and Annabelle. “I suppose there's nothing I can do. I must leave with my mission unaccomplished. I had hoped to produce Miss Tinker here as Exhibit A against you.”

  “Don't worry, Doc,” Annabelle said, “I'll be there.”

  Her words gave Gaelen a rush of pride in her spunk. He turned to Linette and clucked insincere pity. “What a shame you have to be going so soon, Doc.” He motioned to the door, unwilling to remove himself from between Linette and her quarry.

  “See you in court tomorrow, then. Be sure to bring her,” Linette tossed her thumb back to indicate Annabelle. “Come on, Frank.”

  Linette marched out the door. Frank followed, but paused to offer a salute.

  “No hard feelings, eh?”

  In answer, Gaelen slammed the door in his face. Feeling suddenly needful of more security, he locked the door and put the old-fashioned key in his pants pocket before going to the window.

  ~*~

  He stood looking out the window for a long time it seemed to Annabelle.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked.

  “I'm watching to make sure they both leave.”

  She heard an engine start and tires squeal as a vehicle peeled out from the front of the house.

  He turned from the window at last, going back to the door and picking up the bag they'd carried their purchases in earlier.

  “Here,” he said shoving the bag at her. “Take the salt out and sprinkle it on the sill and by the door and on the hearth.”

  “Why?”

  “It'll keep them away tonight.”

  “What are they? Vampires?” She turned to do as he ordered.

  “No,” he said, wiping his face with both hands. “For vampires, I'd use garlic salt.”

  She stopped in mid-turn, slowly turning back to face him. “You mean...?”

  “What?”

  “There really are vampires?”

  “Sure.”

  She turned slowly again to the window, taking small careful steps. “What else is there? Out there?”

  Gaelen fell into the comfortable chair in front of the small fireplace, his breath whooshing out as he stretched.

  “Werewolves, shapeshifters, gargoyles, demons, witches, you name it.”

  She glared at him, aware now he was teasing. “That's not funny, Gaelen.”

  When she'd finished salting down Mrs. O'Hara's spare bedroom, Annabelle put the box of salt back into the bag. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she finally asked what had been on her mind since Frank, the fairy mercenary, had rattled the doorknob to this room.

  “Where did you go?”

  He leaned back in the chair, eyes closed. “Out for a walk. Then I stopped at the car to get the bag. With Linette hovering about, I thought I'd sleep better with it in here.” He opened his eyes and rolled his head around to look at her. “You should get some sleep. It's late, and we have to be about our business early tomorrow.”

  She shrugged. “I can't sleep now. Besides, I think I'm getting a hangover.”

  “Oh, poor darlin'.” He pushed himself out of the chair. “Got a headache?” He climbed behind her on the bed and knelt, raising his hands over her head.

  “Some more magic?”

  “Mm-hmm. Close your eyes and sit very still.”

  She could feel his hands near her, moving around her, but not touching her. Occasionally his warmth would be abruptly leave but return immediately. As she sat there, she felt as though she were floating. Her arms and legs had no weight. She had no weight.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Shhh, I'm lifting your headache.”

  “What?”

  “Shhh.”

  She obeyed and relaxed. Though he didn't touch her, she could feel where his hands were, hovering above her head. His presence radiated through her, warming her, relaxing her, even while he created a tension she found not at all unpleasant.

  They were quiet for many minutes.

  “It's gone,” she spoke the words as the realization dawned.

  “Good.” He kissed the top of her head. She heard him breathe deeply. “You do smell so good.”

  Annabelle leaned back against him, willing him to touch her. Her body yearned for his touch, his kiss. Gaelen stroked her arms, up her neck. The warmth of his fingers shot through her, a flame seeking out all the cold, empty places in her soul.

  “The law is only for revealing ourselves.”

  “Gaelen, make love to me.”

  Had she really spoken those words?

  His hands stilled. He pulled away, leaving cold where there had been warmth.

  “No, dearling. Not tonight.”

  She whirled on him. “I wish you'd make up your mind. You act like you want me, then when I offer myself like a common trollop you back off like you've taken a vow of chast
ity. What's wrong with me? Why you don't like me?”

  He grimaced. “There's nothing wrong with you. I like you rather too much.”

  “Then kiss me again.” Was she really being so bold? “I've been trying and trying.”

  “Oh, darlin’ don't tempt me so. I can't.”

  “Why?”

  “The law.”

  “Phooey on the law. You heard what Dr. Duncan just said.”

  “I need to verify that for myself.” He grinned. “Besides, what would I tell your mother?”

  “My mother?” She laughed. “I think she'd understand better than you think.” Her laughter turned somber when she thought of how cruelly she'd judged her mother.

  He stroked her cheek. “What's wrong?”

  “I guess I'm ashamed. All these years I assumed Mom had always been like she is now. Before we left, she told me....”

  “What?”

  “You don't know my mother at all, do you?”

  “Not really. I met her a few times at university functions, though Jumbo usually came alone. I've heard, from other faculty,” he said, seeming embarrassed to admit he'd gossiped about her family, “Jumbo kept his wife under wraps.”

  “He did,” Annabelle admitted. “Mom isn't ... strong. Daddy always said she was fey. I never gave it much thought, except for wishing my mother were like everybody else's. Anyway, when I told her I was coming to Ireland with you, she guessed it all. Practically tossed me out the front door to get me on my way.”

  Gaelen frowned. “What did she tell you?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Gaelen listened as Annabelle recounted her mother's story. Many things started to become clearer. He'd always thought Susan Tinker seemed a bit fey, just as Jumbo had described her, but in a bad way—distracted, unfocused. Now he realized she showed the signs of one who'd seen his home world, been enchanted by it, and was never again able to function in the real one again.

  Another fairy mixing with a human woman. Annabelle's own mother.

  “Did this winged fellow have a name?” What made him ask?

  Annabelle pursed her lips. Gaelen looked away before he was hopelessly sidetracked by how kissable they were.

  “It was a strange first name. The last name was O'...Shea.”

  “O'Shea?” Couldn't be. No one was more adamant about fairies keeping to their own kind than ... Gaelen hesitated, but he had to know. “Was his first name Eochy?”