Korrigan (Secrets of the Fae Book 1)

by Rebecca F. Kenney

  Laurel greets me with a hug now, Julio gives me a grin and a "Whassup?" and Mike is trying to teach me some kind of complicated fist bump thing— which always ends in me giggling like an idiot and him laughing this big, warm laugh that makes everyone else join in.

  Frank doesn't really talk to me, but I think it's because he knows I'm Zane's girl— and if he doesn't have a chance with me, I'm not really worth much conversation. The most he'll give me is a nod and a two-fingered salute before he flips his long blond hair out of his eyes and saunters off to charm any cute girls nearby. It does bother me that he seems to think girls aren't worth talking to unless he has a shot at getting in their pants. But he's part of the group, so we accept each other's presence.

  We can't hang out every day, of course. They have schoolwork and so do I— although I have the advantage of getting it all done in the morning. Homeschooling online might not be very socially fulfilling; but it does save time.

  Sometimes Zane and I just hang out at his house. We train together in the little basement gym— trying out new holds or workouts he's found online, or just pounding away at the heavy bag. For me, letting loose with those punches is incredibly freeing. I feel the tension and anger in my body flowing out of me with each impact. I think he feels it too. Even though he doesn't talk about it often, I know he's anxious about his GPA, graduation, and college.

  "Why are you nervous?" I ask him one day, as he's hammering the heavy bag. "You've got a scholarship, and you've been accepted at the school you like."

  "I don't know. Change, I guess? There's a lot to think about."

  "Like your major?"

  "Yeah."

  "What do you want to do?"

  He shrugs. Throws a couple of punches.

  "No idea, huh?"

  He shakes his head. I'm admiring the way sweat makes his arms more shiny and beautiful— but I need to focus, because we're trying to talk about real stuff.

  "Have you thought about being a teacher? Like your mom? Or an engineer like your dad?"

  "That doesn't seem to fit me."

  "What do you enjoy, right now?"

  "Working out, running, TV, hanging with friends. Being with you is right up there at the top of the list."

  I smile. "Can't major in that, though."

  "I know. I'll figure it out."

  The edge in his voice tells me I'm making it worse, not better, so I drop the subject. After all, I'm running out of time. I have only a few days of sunshine left, and I haven't figured out what I'm going to do after that.

  Taking Life-Stream from the baby, Dallas, would be easy. I could find a way to do it with no one knowing; Ada is always bringing him around or leaving him with Latesha while she goes to show houses. But then I would be taking time from someone I know. Someone helpless, innocent, and fragile.

  When the Korrigan taught me about it, the process seemed harsh, but necessary. Now that I've done it once myself, I understand just how terrible it is. It's killing someone before his time. You don't have to stick around and watch it happen, but you're responsible for it all the same.

  I can't do it.

  So I'm going to be doomed to darkness forever?

  I have to Life-Steal. I can't live that way, like a creature of the night.

  On my last day, I spend the early evening hours at Zane's again. His mom is out, and he and I are watching TV on the couch when Ada rushes in.

  "Got a last-minute showing, and Deke is on call," she says. "Zane, can you and Aislinn watch him for an hour or two?"

  "Sure," he says. "Get over here, nephew!" He takes the baby and cradles him gently in his arms, bending his handsome face down to kiss the baby's head. I'm enchanted by the sight.

  "Thank you, little brother!" Ada sings back to him as she sails out the front door.

  About twenty minutes later, Dallas starts getting fussy.

  "Probably hungry, right lil man?" Zane says. He hands the baby to me before I can think of an excuse. After rummaging through the diaper bag, he holds up a refrigerated pack with a bottle in it. "Gonna warm it up, back in a sec."

  I fold my arms around the baby's warm body and cuddle him close. His eyes are so big and dark and beautiful. I sway him back and forth a little to calm him down.

  Suddenly I realize— I could do it now. I could take a few months of this baby's life— just a few. Just enough to give me more time.

  I could steal a precious bit of his life and make it mine.

  The words of the incantation are on my tongue. It would be quick, so quick, and easy.

  I can't do this. I could never do this. But I'm so desperate for more time, more days. Why am I here, spending a lazy evening at Zane's house, when I should be out hunting for another way to get the Life-Stream I need?

  I have to go. Now.

  As soon as Zane gets back with the bottle, I tell him, "I forgot, I have to get home. Like, right now."

  "You— oh, okay." He seems confused as I shove the baby into his arms.

  "Yeah, I'm sorry— I'm not feeling well. I don't want to get the baby sick. And I could be sick for a few days," I say quickly. "So if you don't see me, that's probably why. You can text me though, okay?"

  "Right." He looks even more confused, and frustrated. I want to hold his face in my hands and kiss that confusion away, but I don't.

  Instead, I run from him. Out of the house, up the driveway, and down the street. I run and walk, and run and walk again, through neighborhoods and then through a few miles of forest, till I reach our driveway.

  Arden is sitting on the porch when I arrive. Sweaty and weary, I plop down on the porch swing beside her.

  "You didn't do it."

  "No." I bite my lip fiercely to keep the tears back.

  "Don't you wish there were a way out of this?" she asks, pushing us back and forth on the swing with the toe of her shoe.

  "Like a cure?"

  "Well, it's not a disease, it's magic. A curse, which came with its own set of weird rules." She sighs. "But yes, we need something like a cure. Something to make this whole life-stealing process unnecessary."

  "But there isn't," I say. "If there was, the Korrigan would have found it by now."

  "We tried at first," she says. "For the first century or so. But after a while, they all got used to living like this. You can become accustomed to anything if it lasts long enough. Immortality is a seductive thing, and the Life-Stealing— it can make you feel powerful. It's like a drug."

  "Well, I hate it."

  She smiles a little. "And that, my dear, is what gives me hope."

  We sit there together as the last rays of the sun fade. The crickets chirp loudly, ushering in the night. There's a rustling in the bushes too, but I don't have time to think about it, because suddenly Arden jumps off the swing. "Movie?" she says.

  My eyes widen. "Okay..."

  "And popcorn." She holds the door for me.

  She seems strangely excited, almost hyper. But I'm so grateful for the company that I decide not to question it. I may as well enjoy my next several hours of free will.

  Around one in the morning, Arden yawns and heads for her room. I check the time for sunrise in our region of South Carolina. Today dawn will happen at 6:39.

  I don't know how the magic meshes with the science for this Korrigan thing. All I know is that the estimate for sunrise is pretty accurate with the timing of the change— with about a 5-10-minute margin of error. So I need to be in my dungeon by 6:30 or so.

  I wish I could take days from another Korrigan— they each have years saved up. But Maeve says it isn't possible. They've tried it before, in the early days, when someone's supply was low and they couldn't find the right mark. Korrigan cannot Life-Steal from each other.

  Binge-watching a new TV show helps the hours pass. At 6:15, the alarm I set beeps at me.

  I stop by the bathroom first, then head to the basement. Gillian is the one who comes downstairs to open the dungeon for me.

  "You're up early," I say.

 
"Breakfast with the boy-toy," she says. "He's leaving town today. Gotta make him think he's important. I'll actually be sorry to see this one go— he's so pretty. Are you ready?"

  "What am I supposed to say to that?" I snap.

  She narrows her eyes. "You made a choice. Don't take it out on me."

  "Just open it."

  She taps in the code, and the basement trapdoor slides open. "After you," she says, smirking.

  I throw her a nasty glare and take off my shirt and jeans. As I climb down the ladder into the cold white light of the basement, I feel like bursting into tears of panic.

  I can't do this again. I thought I would never have to do this again.

  When I reach the bottom, I step down cautiously. There's a ridiculously long centipede wriggling near my bare foot. The place smells of damp, and sourness, and filth.

  Gillian closes the trap door. I'm alone.

  I can feel the monster coming.

  Closing my eyes, I try to think of Zane. His warm skin, his strong hands, the sparkle of fun in his eyes, his flashing grin.

  The dark tendrils of matter leap out of my body and writhe around me, forming layer after layer. I'm being smashed, smothered, crushed into nothing. Darkness flooding over me. I clench my teeth and try not to scream. Zane's face is a lifeline, and I grip it with all my might. I will get out of this. I will get back to him.

  ◆◆◆

  As soon as I come to myself, I burst into tears. I can't help it. I know that the light outside is gone, and it's time for Things like me, dark Things, to come out. I crawl up the ladder to the basement, where Arden stands by the trapdoor. I wrap myself in the robe she has brought, and I curl up on the floor and cry.

  She doesn't stroke my hair or hug me, or offer me tissues, or comfort me as a mother or an aunt might do. She sits in a chair and waits.

  She doesn't leave me alone.

  Finally, I have no more tears. And I'm weak and shaky, and I need to eat. More than that, I need to talk to Zane.

  When I'm settled at the kitchen island with a chicken salad sandwich, I check my phone. A missed call from Zane, a text from Laurel, and a bunch of weird emojis from Kali that make me smile.

  Laurel's text says "Whaddup, girl? Zane said u were sick. U doing ok?"

  I text her back some crap about the flu. If lying makes me part of the Korrigan family, I guess I'm in for real.

  Then I stare at Zane's number for a few minutes. Should I call? I could try to sound really sick. Maybe a text would be better.

  I type, "Got your call. I have the flu! Bummer."

  In less than a minute he responds. "I'm so sorry! You need anything?"

  The last thing I need is him stopping by. "No, I'm good. Family taking good care of me. See you when I feel better."

  Then, for good measure, I add, "Really, please stay away. Very contagious."

  I slide off the stool and walk to the pantry to get some chips. My phone buzzes as I'm coming back, and I jump to read the message.

  "Rest up, beautiful. Can't wait to see you. Wish I could make it better."

  You did.

  I want to see him. I really do. I suppose I could go visit— it's only 9 something— but that wouldn't fit in well with my whole tale of sickness, and I need that excuse so he won't question why I can't see him in the daytime. Plus there's the whole stupid curfew thing.

  I finish my food, try to watch TV— but everything that I start watching seems stupid. I miss life— real, sunshiny, active life. After trying about five different shows and watching the first ten minutes of three movies, I give up. I'm going to go crazy in here.

  I slip on a pair of old sneakers, spritz on some insect repellant, and leave by way of the back door. The night air is chilly—even here in the South the nights are cool in spring. Still, I skip the jacket. I embrace the chill, because it makes me feel more alive, stronger— yet at the same time more human.

  The lawn isn't vivid, living green anymore. The blades of grass shimmer silver and black under the swollen white moon. The forest is different, too— tall and dark and forbidding, like walls around me. I walk up to the edge of it and turn on my phone's flashlight app. Using the light burns the battery quicker, but I don't plan to be out here long.

  Slowly I walk into the woods, the underbrush crunching with my every step. I can hear cicadas and frogs and other sounds, like small paws rustling in the bushes. I belong out here with them, the children of the night.

  I shake off the mood. Getting weird and creepy, Aislinn.

  Walking quicker, I move further into the forest. Mosquitoes whine nearby, but they don't land on me. Thank goodness the repellant is working, or I'd be a mottled mess tomorrow. Not that it would matter, because I'll be unconscious in the bowels of a demon for the entire day.

  I grip my phone flashlight and start to run, picking my feet up high to avoid tripping. It's a slow run, not full-on— but just the act makes me feel better, like I'm burning off my frustration with action.

  What right do I have to be angry anyway? That's what other people would think. My friends— can I even call them friends when I've barely known them a month? — probably think I'm just a spoiled little rich white girl with angst. They know I have family issues, but none of them know the literal hell I've been through. I'm lucky to enjoy the beautiful house, the good food, the education— but it's not like any of the money is mine, and I'm not allowed to earn any, either. I have to beg the Korrigan for money every time my mascara dries out or my jeans wear through.

  So much for first world problems. I've got Otherworld problems. Supernatural problems.

  I'm running faster now. I wonder if this is what Zane does when he's upset? Just tear through the forest like a deer. Or like a wolf. Yeah, wolves are cooler. Why couldn't I be a werewolf? They don't turn every night, just—

  My foot catches and I sprawl into the undergrowth, scratching my face and arms on branches as I fall. Something squishes under my hand— a mushroom? a slug? At least it doesn't smell like poop. Jumping up, I brush myself off and retrieve my phone from where it fell. The screen looks undamaged.

  That's when I hear it.

  A sound— faint and far away— a baby's cry. It's a whimper at first, a little whine of confusion and displeasure. Then it escalates into a high-pitched cry of need and fear.

  I keep walking. It's probably just a mom out for a walk with a baby. She'll calm it in a moment.

  Out for a walk at midnight?

  The wailing continues. The baby is practically screaming now, somewhere in the trees to my right. What choice do I have? I head toward the sound.

  For a second I wonder if the other Korrigan left a baby out here for me. Maybe they thought I wouldn't be able to help myself if the infant were right in front of me.

  Why would they leave it in the forest though?

  Even if they did, I won't take it. I repeat that fiercely to myself as I stride through the trees. They can go to hell.

  But a part of me longs for time, for days. For freedom from that terrible dungeon, and for Zane's face in the sunshine.

  The baby is screaming at the top of its lungs now, and I'm so close that another step or two should bring it into sight. I tuck my phone into my back pocket and run. But when I step into the moonlit clearing, I see nothing. Abruptly the crying stops, and the forest is silent and empty.

  Not empty. Because I see the flash of something in the trees. Something that looks darkly red in the moonlight.

  He's here.

  His laugh echoes all around me, repeating and repeating itself like an eerie chorus.

  "Aislinn, Aislinn," he chides in Maeve's crisp tones. "So adorably gullible."

  I almost say, "Show yourself!" like they do in movies— but I always thought that phrase was incredibly silly. Of course the Thing in the shadows never does show itself, until it wants to be seen.

  So instead, I ask, "What do you want?"

  He answers me in a dozen different voices, from a dozen different directions— I suppo
se ventriloquism is one of his skills as well. "Power! Peace! Perfection! Love, and the return of what was lost! Something worth seeing every day. Purpose. And you, Aislinn, what do you want?"

  For a minute I'm speechless, surprised by his honest answer. "I want—" There are so many things. Sunshine. Time. A normal life. Zane.

  "Control." The word bursts out of me before I even know how true it is.

  He appears, just steps away, before I can blink. Gosh is he beautiful, like a fairy prince materializing from another realm. "Control is just another word for power. I can give you that."

  "No."

  "Come with me. I'll show you how to get the power you need." His silvery eyes seem to glow under those straight black brows. The planes of his face, his perfect nose, his jawline— he is so pretty I have trouble thinking clearly. And that voice! Low and sensual, with just a hint of roughness. My Kryptonite. I wonder if he designed the voice just for me.

  I can't form the word "no," so I shake my head.

  "Do you know what else I want?" He steps nearer, and I move away; but he closes the distance and wraps his fingers around my upper arms. Lightly, but with enough pressure to keep me there. His chest is an inch or two from mine, and the space between us is electric.

  "I want you." His breath is warm on my face, and his eyes are intense. "I want you like I haven't wanted anyone for a very long time."

  "Why?" I breathe.

  "You're beautiful, of course," he says. "But I've known many beautiful women. There's something about you— something different. No power, yet— but there's space for it. And you talk to me like no one else does. As if I don't really frighten you— not in your heart. You speak to me like I'm just a human."

  He's lonely. Of course he is. He's had no one he could really talk to for centuries, except the half-witted leprechauns.

  "You're still human, underneath," I say. "I can see it."

  He smiles like I've said something amusing. Then his face sobers. "I tire of voices and games. I want real power, and we can find it together. But first, you have to be willing to do what needs to be done. For yourself, and for those you love. Without stealing days, you'll fade out of their lives forever."