I suppose Maeve or Arden cleaned up any digital traces of them; it's the kind of thing you have to learn when you don't really age over the centuries. Arden is an expert with computers; Maeve calls what she does "digital magic," instead of the old kind. It's how the Korrigan stay hidden, and how they make— and take— the money that fuels our lives here.
Shaking my head, I break out of the zone I'm in and rinse my mouth with water. I'm suddenly starving, but I'd rather not encounter everyone again, and if I go into the kitchen, I'll have to. Stupid open floor plan.
I climb the steps and walk past the other bedrooms to mine. It's all the way at the back of the house, in the eastern corner. Not that I use it much— most of my sleeping happens when I'm trapped in the belly of the raging beast and there's nothing better to do. Now that I've got my days, I'll be sleeping here at night. Strange.
The time till dawn passes slowly. I can't seem to focus on TV or a book. When the first rosy flush of dawn starts in the sky, I leap off the bed and fly down the back stairs and out the door. I'm going to see my home in the daylight for the first time.
The lawn around the house is smoothly green, bordered by magnolias with their broad, shiny leaves, and by oaks standing in carpets of leftover acorns from last fall. There aren't any creamy flowers on the magnolias yet, but the azaleas and rhododendrons are in bloom. I've seen them at night.
As the light pours gradually into the clearing where our house stands, the azaleas aren't black and silver anymore— they're bursting with lavender and vivid pink, blooms piled up on fresh green leaves. I want to throw myself into them, like a child leaping into a snowdrift.
And the forest! It's all glimmering green and golden and shadow, and it looks magical. Right now, with the sun peeking over the treetops and shining in yellow shafts through the trees, it's easy to imagine a world full of pixies and fairies and other delicate Fae things.
A world without my kind— without monsters.
But now isn't the time for self-loathing. I circle the house until I reach the long, tree-lined driveway leading up to the front door.
When we first moved here, I rarely went outside— the silvery moonlit lawn and dark trees did not appeal to me. And when I did go out, I almost never ventured down the drive, because the trees hung over it like dark goblins with long, twitching black fingers.
But in the sunlight? Total transformation. Instead of a forbidding tunnel, there's a sun-dappled path with a green and gold ceiling. The road looks inviting, but the call of the woods is stronger. I'm Irish, and I'm Korrigan— roads are for normal teenagers.
I follow my instinct and plunge into the pathless forest.
It feels so good just to run, to explore, to walk aimlessly. I find a creek and I sit on the bank, drinking sunshine. There are clearings and fields to cross, and hills to climb. Somehow I keep my sense of direction, and eventually I work my way back closer to home again.
After nearly two hours in the forest, I'm famished, but I don't want to go back to the house. What I went through to gain this day— it was painful and frightening, and I don't think the others understand. For them, it's a routine practiced for centuries.
For me, it was frightening, and morally questionable. I still feel guilty about it.
On a morning like this, though, with a clear blue sky and crisp spring air— who could sit with guilt for long? I feel like a thousand songs. I know I can conquer the world.
But I do need food. And there is so much more to see, beyond the forest. People and places! And I know just where to start.
On past late night excursions, when I was feeling bolder than usual, I would follow the drive and go down the south road to a little corner store, the kind that sells motor oil alongside gum and corn chips. With the little spending money the Korrigan allow me, I would buy a snack or a soda, just to get out of the house and live a little. The place is open 24 hours, so it's perfect for someone who is awake from dusk to dawn.
I could go back, get my bike, and ride there— but this is my First Day, and I want to take it slowly. And with the sunlight on my side, I decide take a shortcut through the forest.
Before long, I step out of the trees into a parking lot that I know well, although I've never been here in the daytime. I can see the pavement clearly, riddled with cracks that sprout stubborn bits of grass. Chips of broken glass and old wads of gum litter the asphalt. There's the peeling paint, the faded posters plastered on the red brick walls— all in fresh color.
And as I walk across the lot, I feel the warmth of the sun, unfiltered by trees, shining on my bare arms. I turn my face up to it and close my eyes for a minute.
Then I sense the watchers. I open my eyes and there are three of them, three boys about my age leaning against the side of the store, in the deepest part of its shadow. I guess they are all cute enough, but for some reason I notice one in particular.
Maybe it's the daylight making everything seem amazing— but I think he's the most beautiful boy I have ever seen— bold cheekbones, strong jaw, full lips, flawless brown skin, and eyes, dark as space, fixed on me. There's something about the way he is looking at me— a kind of wonder and surprise, that makes me flush.
This day is too important for distractions or embarrassment. I'm going in to get my drink and snack, and then I'm going to see the world, and no handsome boy will get in my way.
I walk past him and enter the store.
2
RAINCHECK
Zane
When I see the red-haired girl come out of the trees, I think for a second that she's the goddess of spring. She steps out of the forest with that curly red hair falling over her shoulders, and she moves smooth, like wind or water.
She stops for a second, looking at the store. Then she closes her eyes and turns her face up to the sun, holding her arms out a bit like she's worshiping it. Weird, but somehow hot, too.
Half a second later she opens her eyes and looks right at me, just for a beat. She keeps walking, straight for the door of the store. As she passes I see that her cheeks are pink and her eyes are light green, like spring leaves. What's up with me? I'm thinking like some kind of damn poet.
I take a second look, and I notice the skinny jeans showing off her long legs. Her plain T-shirt is dark green, and just tight enough. She's real, all right. Flesh and blood, baby.
She disappears into the store, and I notice that the other guys have gone just as quiet as me. They noticed her, too, and I don't like it.
I push myself away from the wall. "I'm goin' in to say hi to Devon."
Julio and Frank laugh. "Yeah, right," Frank says. "You go say hi. Maybe we'll come too!"
I give him a glare and go into the store.
The girl is standing at one of the refrigerators, choosing a drink. I saunter up to the counter where Devon is lounging, a wad of gum in his cheek.
"Hey man."
He jerks his chin up at me. " 'Sup, Zane!"
I feel her walking past, behind me. She comes to the counter and stands to my right, puts her can of soda and granola bar on the counter. In a minute she'll pay for it, and then she'll leave. It's now or never.
Nothing comes into my head. No clever lines. No smooth sayings. Just— "You live around here?"
Did I say that? Yes, I did.
She opens her mouth but Devon cuts her off. "Yeah man, she lives 'round here! I see her when I do night shift and up till now that's the only time I see her. You know I started to think she's a vampire for sure, but now here she is in the daytime and all that, so I guess she just—"
"I'm a night owl," says the girl. She smiles a little, and something about her expression makes me suspect that there is more to the story— a lot more. The smile is so sexy, too, and just when I was thinking I should forget about girls till after graduation.
"Where do you go to school?" Why can't I think of anything to say except more questions? This is starting to sound like an interrogation.
"I'm homeschooled," she says, like an apology. "My
family doesn't like the public school system."
"Yeah, it's not always great," I say. "But you can meet some cool people."
"Like you?" She smiles wider.
Devon laughs. "Aw man, she quick," he says.
"Shut up, D!" But I can't help grinning, too. I think no one could help it, once they saw that smile of hers.
I don't know where to go next— how to get to the asking for her number part. My brain just isn't working right. Damn, Zane, pull it together!
"So if I ever want to meet these 'cool people,' where would I go? Outside of a classroom, I mean." There is a little quiver in her voice at the very end. Just what I need. She is nervous, too; and suddenly I can talk again.
"Well, I don't know, you know," I drawl. "It's hard to predict when and where the fun is goin' down. Why don't you just give me your number so I can let you know?"
Her smiled fades. "I don't have a number. Not yet, that is. I mean, we just—"
"Hey, it's cool, it's cool," I say.
"But I would give it to you, if I had one."
We stand there, sort of not looking at each other.
I clear my throat. "Well, um, I'll see you around. You enjoy your— your Diet Coke there. You know that fake sweet stuff'll kill you, right?"
"Not likely," she says, with that same little secret smile; and I am gone. Homework, graduation, my search for a summer job, everything shrinks, becoming fuzzy and small and far away— and she is the only thing in focus. I stand there like a mute idiot while she pays for the soda and snack and walks past me, towards the door. She reaches for the handle, then turns back.
"I'm Aislinn, by the way. It's spelled A-i-s-l-i-n-n, but you say it like Ashlyn."
"Oh," I say. "Awesome."
She steps through the door. She is almost gone.
"I'm Zane." It comes out like a croak, and I curse in my head.
"Nice to meet you, Zane."
And then she is gone.
3
BREAKAWAY
Aislinn
I walk quickly across the parking lot, my face burning and my heart pounding. What was that? I must have sounded so stupid to him, so desperate for friends. Telling him how to spell my name? I am an idiot— a sheltered, weird idiot. I walk faster toward the tree line.
Rapid steps scuff the pavement behind me.
"Hey! Girl, you walk fast! Where you goin' in such a hurry?"
My heart is in my throat because it's him, so I have to take a minute to swallow before I can speak. "Nowhere. I mean, I— thought I might look around the area. You know, because it's such a nice day."
"Yeah, it is," he agrees. "You— um, need some company?"
I stop in my tracks and look up at him. His eyes are an open book— admiration, interest, and a hint of confusion, as if he isn't sure why he's being so bold with me.
A snicker comes from the direction of the store. Devon has stepped outside and is standing with the other two boys, and they're smirking and staring at us. I flash them a smile.
"What about your friends?" I ask.
"Oh, them? They're cool." He grins. "We could show you some of our hangouts around here."
I want to go with them, but I'm not sure my guardians would approve; in fact, I'm sure they would lock me up for a week if they found out I was roaming around town with three teenage boys I just met.
But I don't want to go back into the forest right now. I want to be out in the sun, and I want to meet people and talk to them. It's my First Day.
"All right, then," I say. "But I have to be back here in a couple hours, or my family will worry about me."
"Of course. Hey, you don't have to worry, I'll take good care of you. Come meet the guys!"
He introduces me to a blond teen with pale eyes— Frank; and then to a boy with a shock of shiny black hair and a huge grin— Julio. They lead me to their ride, a beat-up old Buick with oversized wheels that belongs to Frank. He hops into the driver's seat and Julio calls shotgun, but Zane hustles him into the back seat so I can ride up front.
"The best view for our guest," he says.
It's stupid, what I'm doing. They could be creeps or gang members, for all I know. I hesitate.
"You don't have to come," says Zane. "But I promise, we're good guys."
He could be lying. But I'm feeling invincible today, and could someone with those warm brown eyes really be a liar? I slide into the seat. "Let's go."
They take me all over town, showing off the skate park, the old mill, their favorite burger stop. We even drive downtown, and they show me the river with its waterfalls, and the spindly bridge that connects the two sections of the city. When Julio's stomach growls so loudly that we can all hear the noise, we grab sandwiches and drinks from a shop and find a spot by the river to eat them.
We're sitting on sun-warmed stones, watching the waterfall tumble over the rocks and smooth itself out into a gleaming river dotted with ducks. I feel the cold soda in my hand, taste the crisp sweetness of the drink on my tongue. The whole world is warm with spring, bees are buzzing over new flowers and there's a fresh scent of water and earth. I want to freeze this moment and hold it forever inside me.
Zane leans over to me, and for a second I'm mesmerized by his brown eyes. "Hold still," he says, and I do, breathlessly. He expertly flicks something off my arm. "Spider."
I'm on my feet in less than a second. "A spider? On me? How big was it?"
He makes a quarter-sized circle with long brown fingers. I shudder.
"I take it you're not a fan of spiders," he says, his eyes sparkling.
"Not so much," I say, examining the rock before I sit back down. I can't tell him the real reason I hate spiders, and roaches, and centipedes— my basement dungeon is a haven for them. It's full of cracks that haven't been repaired in years; and of course it's never seen a visit from a pest control specialist. So I deal with creepy crawly things quite often, usually when I'm feeling sick and vulnerable after a day spent in the belly of the beast.
His eyes tell me that he thinks my reaction is a little overdone, so I try to laugh it off and talk about the tourists snapping selfies on the bridge. Inwardly I reassure myself, You're okay. You're in the sun. You have thirty whole days of sunshine. You don't have to go back there, ever again.
Frank is complaining about his brother, so the talk turns to families. Zane has a couple of sisters; one is married and recently had a baby.
"What about you, Aislinn?" asks Julio. "You got brothers, sisters?"
I shake my head. "My parents passed away, so I live with my— my aunts. I don't have any brothers or sisters."
"Hey, girl, I'm sorry about your parents," says Zane softly.
"It's okay, really," I say. "I was little— I don't remember anything about them, so I can't really miss them."
Julio whistles. "Yeah, okay, this just got major depressing in here. New topic!"
Zane wads up a sandwich wrapper and throws it at him.
"Hey man, that's littering!" Julio throws it right back, and then it's an all-out battle of napkins, wrappers, and bits of leftover sandwich. A couple of ducks waddle up from the river to inspect the chaos, hoping for scraps. I watch them, fascinated by the tentative way they advance and retreat as the boys scuffle.
Suddenly Zane stretches out his hand to me. "Come on!"
"Why?"
He laughs. "Just come on, girl!"
My hand looks small, fragile, and pale in his. I'm up in a moment and we're running toward the river, toward some large rocks that break up its flow. He jumps to the edge, but I hesitate.
"The sign says 'no climbing on the rocks,'" I say.
He shakes his head. "They have to say that. Liability and whatever. It's fine. Do you always do what signs tell you?"
I have always done what I was told. It was a matter of safety, for me and others. But that was in a dark world, before this day. In this bright world, everything seems safe, and possible.
I let go of his hand and leap ahead, jumping lightly from ro
ck to rock till I reach a huge boulder right in the middle of the river. The sound of the nearby waterfall is so loud that I can't hear his feet as he follows me easily. He's obviously done this dozens of times.
We stand still, enjoying the rocks and the river and the sun. I glance over at the bank and notice Frank chatting up a couple of girls. Julio is picking up the remnants of the food fight, frowning, his lips moving.
"What's he saying?" I ask.
"Just grumbling." Zane grins. "He hates it when we throw stuff on the ground."
"Let's go help him."
"Hey!" He grabs my hand again. "Stay a minute."
I stay, but I pull my hand free, suddenly shy. It feels so comfortable with him, with his friends— like I've known them much longer than one morning. It's surprising, really, given that I was raised by women and the only stuff I know about boys is from TV shows and movies.
But no matter how good it feels, I'm being foolish, letting strangers drive me around the city and buy me lunch.
"So do you do this often?" I ask. "Pick up random girls, and give them the tour?"
He laughs. "Sometimes. At least, Frank does. It's my first time. Doing this, I mean— with someone I don't know. I mean—" He rubs the back of his neck with his hand.
"It's been fun," I say. "Really. Just what I needed."
He looks at me, as if he's trying to figure something out. "Rough stuff at home?"
"Kind of." I sigh. "But, rough or not, I need to be getting back. I didn't tell anyone where I was going."
"You need a phone, girl!"
"I know. Maybe they'll let me have one now that—" I stop. "Now that I'm seventeen."
He nods. "I'm seventeen, too. Gonna be graduating soon."
"Really? Isn't that early?"
"Well, I kinda skipped a grade early on."
"Oh, so you're smart."
He smiles, a little embarrassed. "That's what they say."
Korrigan (Secrets of the Fae Book 1) Page 2