Korrigan (Secrets of the Fae Book 1)

by Rebecca F. Kenney

  "Zane, stop worrying. I can handle it."

  "All right, all right! Just letting you know."

  After a pause he says, "She's cool though, my mom. Been through a lot, you know? She's really got a passion for kids, you know, who don't have much going for 'em. The school she teaches at, it's in an area where the kids are really poor, and they don't get the chances that kids in other school zones do."

  "That doesn't seem fair."

  "It's not, but that's the way it is. So she does what she can, to make it better."

  "She sounds amazing."

  "Yeah, she is. Kinda bossy, you know, with the questions— but she's cool."

  We pull up to his house, the red-brick one with the dogwoods out front. It's charming, in a Southern 1950s kind of way. The driveway goes all the way around to the back of the house, where a pair of massive magnolias dominate the backyard.

  Zane parks beside an SUV and leads me inside through the basement door. There's a laundry area, and through another door a cozy TV room. A narrow flight of steps leads upstairs.

  "I gotta go see what my mom wants," he says. "You can stay here, watch TV. Or you could meet her."

  "I'd like to meet her."

  "Cool, cool. Come on." He bounds up the steps, and I follow.

  The kitchen is smaller than our massive one at home, but it's been beautifully updated. Except that I can hardly see the counters for the piles of packaged meat and frozen goods.

  "Mama?" Zane raises his eyebrows. "What's goin' on?"

  "Oh, honey, the freezer just gave up and died. Must have happened a day or two ago and I didn't notice till now— everything's all soft." Zane's mom is a foot shorter than him, a shade darker than him, slim and curvy. She pulls another plastic-wrapped chunk out of the freezer compartment and sets in on the counter. "I got to get all this meat cooked up before it goes bad. Not enough room in the fridge for all of it."

  She looks at me for the first time, with bright, inquisitive eyes. "Well, hello there! I'm Latesha Percy. And you are?"

  "Aislinn," I say. "Aislinn Byrne."

  "Well, Aislinn Byrne— sorry about the state of things here. I wasn't aware we were expectin' company." She gives Zane a stern look, softened by the slight smile at the corner of her mouth.

  "Can I help?" I ask. "With the cooking?"

  She raises her eyebrows. "You any good?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Pretty good." I've watched enough TV cooking shows to last a lifetime, and I've actually made some of the dishes in the episodes. My guardians will eat my cooking without complaining, and that's saying something. After centuries of existence, they don't waste their time with food unless it's delicious.

  Zane's mom nods. "Okay then. Let's get started with this ground beef here. Zane, you put on some tunes for us to work by."

  The online radio station he picks carries a mix of R&B and jazz, and I find myself swaying to the rhythm while I stir the ground beef in the pan. I ask for spices, and Latesha points me to a cupboard.

  While Zane chops up chicken, I finish with the first package of ground beef and start on a second. Latesha creates a breakfast casserole with partially thawed sausage, eggs, and spinach and pops it in the oven.

  "So," she says. "You two meet at school?"

  "No, Mom, she's homeschooled," says Zane. "We met at the store, you know the one where Devon works."

  "Mm-hmm." She slaps some chicken into batter and drops it in a pan. "Zane, did you take the trash to the curb yet?"

  "No ma'am. You want me to do it now?"

  "Yes I do. And take the laundry out of the washer and put it in the dryer, and take those old boards from the garage out to the curb too. And give the side flowerbed a good sprinkling. Go on now— Aislinn and I are just fine."

  I can tell he doesn't want to leave, but he disappears down the basement steps.

  "So. Aislinn."

  Here they come— the questions. I brace myself.

  "What brings you here today?"

  Of all the questions I expected, this one wasn't on the list. "Um— I wanted to hang out with Zane."

  "Mm-hmm." She's looking at me with those intense eyes. "Baby, are you okay?"

  "Yes— do I not look okay?"

  "You look sad. When you walked through that door I could see it in your eyes. Something happened to you today."

  I feel the tears leaping into my eyes. I blink ferociously, but it's too late. My breath is already quickening into sobs.

  Latesha turns one burner to low and stuffs the last pack of meat into the refrigerator. Then she takes my hand and leads me to a chair at the kitchen table.

  "You don't know me, and I don't know you," she says. "But I'm a mom, and I've got a pretty good set of ears. So if you wanna talk, I'll listen. Or if you just wanna cry, that's fine too."

  Suddenly parts of my story are spilling out of me, along with the tears. "I just found out that my guardians lied to me about how my parents died. They don't tell me anything! There are things I need to know— things I'm old enough to know, and they don't trust me with it."

  Latesha pushed a tissue into my hand. "It can be hard to understand why adults do what they do. Sometimes they have good reason, sometimes they don't. We're all just people, and people mess up."

  "I know. But they hardly talk to me at all, you know? It's like they have their lives and their habits, and I'm just the extra, just an add-on that nobody really wanted but they have to put up with." I'm not even sure if she understands that sentence because I'm crying through it all, but she nods sympathetically.

  "You feel like they don't love you."

  I nod, wiping my nose. Best not to completely gross her out, even if she already thinks I'm an emotional wreck who shouldn't be anywhere near her son.

  "Honey, I'm not gonna tell you that they love you. Maybe they do, and maybe they don't. And it hurts when someone who gave birth to you doesn't love you like they should. It gets right into your soul and makes you angry, bitter."

  Watching her bright eyes cloud over, I realize that she's speaking from experience. She's been through it.

  "What you gotta focus on is the people who do care about you, the ones that see you. And even if there aren't many— or any— of those, know that someday there will be. Until then, you are enough. You are strong enough to be okay, just you."

  She hands me another tissue. "When I was your age, I thought that if I loved myself right, people would love me. But I learned that loving yourself isn't enough. You've got to love people, too. And then sooner or later, they'll start lovin' you back."

  I'm about to thank her for listening, and for the advice (even though I'm not sure she's right) when Zane comes back into the kitchen. "Uh, Mom? What's up?" He looks surprised, and a little angry. "You made her cry? Come on!"

  "Just girl talk, baby," says his mom. "Don't worry about it. Aislinn, you'll stay for dinner?"

  I'm breaking rules just by being here. Of course, Maeve never actually set any specific rules— but I'm pretty sure she wouldn't approve. So of course I say yes.

  Then I excuse myself to the bathroom and gasp at the white-faced, red-eyed, pink-nosed mess I've become. Mascara— a must-have for redheads with pale lashes, like me— is trailing down my cheeks, and I look like a total freak. After today, Zane will never want to see me again.

  I wash my face and wipe away the melted mascara as best I can.

  There's a tap-tap on the bathroom door. I take a deep breath, expecting Zane— but instead, it's a girl, maybe thirteen or fourteen, with bright brown eyes like her mother's, super-skinny arms and legs, and pretty features. Zane's little sister.

  "I'm Kali," she says, smiling. Then she lowers her voice. "I thought you might need this." She hands me a tube of black mascara.

  For a second I can't even speak. It's so exactly what I needed. "Thank you!" I say finally. "You're an angel."

  She cocks her head and shrugs. "I know." She stands in the doorway while I apply some of the mascara. "He really likes you, you know. Like, a lot."
>
  "Well, that might change after the meltdown I just had."

  "Oh, that was just Mom; she does that to everyone. I mean, she should have been a psychiatrist instead of a teacher, you know? She sees right into people, and just— drags the emotional stuff right out of them. It's terrible. But sometimes it feels good too, ya know?"

  I nod and hand back the mascara. "Thanks, Kali. How do I look?"

  She tilts her head again. "Less scary now."

  "Gee thanks."

  And just like that, we're friends.

  I can't imagine a more perfect evening than the one we spend together that night. We eat spaghetti, with meatballs that defrosted in the broken freezer, and cheesy garlic biscuits. Zane's dad, Aaron, is charming and slow-spoken, and his mom has a hundred stories to tell, and Kali is all bony elbows and shrill comments but still funny and adorable.

  When the meal is over, Zane and Kali and I play a card game, until his mother says, "Look at the time! Zane, you better be getting Aislinn home. And come right back— you got homework to do."

  I feel like begging to stay forever, but I hug Kali and Latesha, and I go out back with Zane to the pickup.

  We're quiet at first as we pull out of the driveway. I can tell he's working himself up to say something, probably to ask me how I liked his family, or why I was crying in front of his mom.

  "Thanks for today," I say. "In spite of everything at home, I feel like yesterday evening and this afternoon were the best days of my life. Sorry for being so weird and emotional, though."

  "Hey, no worries. We all have those days."

  "Really? We all do?" I smirk. "I can't imagine you bawling at my kitchen table. Or your own, for that matter."

  He grins. "Hey, real men cry. Sometimes. Rarely. Maybe at the end of a movie where someone dies for a noble cause— you know, that kinda thing."

  "I've seen that movie."

  "Yeah? Were there stolen space station plans involved? Or samurai?"

  "No, I think it was the one with the soldiers."

  And then we start naming all the movies we've seen in which people die nobly, in a tear-jerking sort of way. Much too soon, we pass the corner store, and we're almost at the turnoff to my house.

  I direct him to the end of the long driveway. "You don't need to drive me all the way up. Let's just pull over right here."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Please."

  He does what I ask, frowning a little. "You're so mysterious about your house, your family."

  I look down at my lap, my eyes darting to the slight bulge under my jeans where the bandage covers my knife wound. "I don't have a choice. When I do, I'll let you know."

  "If you need help, right now, all you have to do is ask." He's looking at me with that serious, sweet, concerned expression in his brown eyes. "I'll help you, or I'll find someone who knows what to do to help you. Are you being hurt, at all?"

  I take a deep breath. "Just my heart." I force a smile. "I'll be fine."

  "I'll walk you part of the way at least. Is that okay?"

  "You don't have to," I say.

  "I know."

  We walk up the driveway in the evening silence, our feet scuffing the pavement. There are a couple of lampposts spaced far apart along the way, but it's mostly dark.

  The back of his hand brushes mine, and I feel a tingle in my skin. It happens again. Then he gathers my hand in his, warm strong fingers closing over mine, lacing through them. My whole arm, my whole body is electrified. How could a simple thing like holding hands feel this good?

  We're nearing one of the lampposts when he slows his walk, then stops. Takes my other hand. We're facing each other now, and my heart might just jump right out of my chest, it's thudding so hard.

  He pulls me closer, till mere inches of air keep us apart. One of his hands travels up my arm, to my shoulder, behind my neck. I can smell the warm, spicy scent of him, and every bit of my skin is on fire.

  When his lips meet mine, it isn't quite what I expected. Softer, and wetter, I guess. After a second he moves back; but I want to try again, so I hook both hands around his neck and pull his face back to mine.

  The second kiss is better. Firm, electric, overwhelming. The sensation, the heat of it seems to melt my very bones and I wonder how I'm still standing upright. Zane pulls me toward him, tighter, and I feel the warmth of his skin through his T-shirt.

  At last we break apart. How long have we been standing here?

  He smiles at me, and I smile back— a big ridiculous grin.

  "You're amazing," he says.

  I don't have enough breath for an answer.

  "Can I ask you one question?" he says.

  "Sure."

  "Was that your first kiss?"

  My cheeks flame immediately. He could tell? Was it that bad? "Yeah. I— I'm sorry."

  "Sorry? No, it was epic! Nothin' wrong with your instincts, girl! I just meant— I'm honored to be the one to kiss you first."

  Except that he wasn't.

  I still remember the Far Darrig's kiss— the power and passion of it. But I wasn't in control, so it doesn't count.

  It doesn't count.

  "I should probably get home," I say. "But— that was awesome, and we should do it again sometime."

  He grins. "Hell yeah."

  8

  LIFE

  Zane

  I drive home slowly after dropping Aislinn off. I need to think. I've only known her for a little while, but she already fills up my head every day. I can't go anywhere without thinking of the smell of her, the shape of her, and those green eyes.

  But I need the space in my head for school. I need room for paying attention in class, getting my homework done— and damn, is there a lot of it. I've already got my scholarship to a university, one of the best schools in the upstate; but I still need to plan ahead for next year, figure out my major and everything. Find a part-time job for this summer.

  It's time to step back from Aislinn. Take a break. Get some distance.

  Except that I'm powerless to move away. All I want is to get closer to her.

  I'm home before I know it. I turn the car off and go inside, to the kitchen where my mother is cleaning up from dinner, washing everything that won't fit in the dishwasher.

  "Hey, Mama," I say.

  "Don't you 'hey mama' me, boy," she says, her arms elbow-deep in soapsuds. "You get over here and help dry."

  Great.

  I grab a towel and stand beside her. I remember standing in the same spot when I came up no higher than her waist, and now I'm looking down at her. She scrubs fiercely, her dark hands moving in and out of the pale bubbles.

  "I like that girl, Zane," she says at last. "She works hard. And she's got a kind heart. Black or white, that's the most important thing to have."

  "So you don't mind," I say. "That's she's white, I mean."

  "We got lots of beautiful, smart black girls around here, honey. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping for you to end up with one of them. But there's plenty of sweet, smart white girls too. All I want for you is someone who will take care of your heart. You're too good for this messed-up old world, that's for sure." She hands me a pan to dry. "There's something about this one that's different, you know."

  "Yeah." I knew my mother would feel it, too.

  "I like her," she says again. "But still— be careful, precious. Things that are different can bring danger with them. Just because we accept the difference doesn't mean it's safe."

  I look down at the dish in my hands. "It's— it's pretty intense, with her."

  "Zane, you have to be careful. There are things you may want to do, but it's not the right time. You've got years of school left, son. The last thing you need is to be somebody's baby daddy."

  "What? I'm not gonna— okay, this just got way too uncomfortable for me. We gonna do these dishes or what?"

  She's right. I've got to be careful. But that wasn't exactly what I meant when I said "intense." Aislinn is sexy as hell, and I want he
r— but there's something else about our connection. Something deeper and a little scary, that I've never felt with any other girl. It's like Fate meant for us to meet, or some crap like that.

  And suddenly I want my mother to know. Even though I feel kinda stupid saying it.

  "It's like I've been asleep my whole life. A nice, comfortable sleep, with school and home and everything in a pattern, every year. But then I met her, and now I'm awake. Just— wide awake."

  "Oh, honey." She reaches a sudsy hand toward my face and I dart back. She laughs, then sighs. "Teenage love. So cute."

  Kali's head pokes around the corner. "Zane's in lo-ove, Zane's in lo-ove!" she says, all annoying and sing-song.

  "Beat it, brat!" I snap the wet towel at her, and she scampers.

  "Be nice to your sister, Zane!" says Mom. "Don't you have homework or somethin' to do? We got church tomorrow so you better get it done tonight."

  "Don't you need my help?"

  "No, this is almost done, and then I got to go grade papers. But Zane— " she catches my arm as I'm leaving. "Thanks for telling me, baby."

  9

  TRICKSTER

  Aislinn

  The day after I met Zane's family, I decide to go somewhere on my own. Far from my house, far from everyone. I need some space in the sun, by myself.

  It's a warm enough day for shorts, so I wear my favorite denim ones and a tank top. As I'm looking at myself in the mirror, winding up my hair in a knot, I notice the tiny gold necklace with the ruby. I've been wearing it so long I almost forgot it was there. Maybe I should take it off, switch it out with some other jewelry. But I like the way the gold chain ripples over my collarbones, and the way the little ruby sits in just the right spot. I decide to leave it on.

  Spinning down the driveway on my bike in the sun feels like freedom, even more than walking or running. The spring breeze keeps me cool even as I pump harder at the pedals, zooming down the street past the corner store, and on toward a local bike trail. It's a long, winding route, popular with locals and tourists alike. I've been on it a couple of times when I was feeling adventurous; but so much of it is wooded that I didn't feel comfortable going there often as a teenage girl alone, in the dead of night.