Korrigan (Secrets of the Fae Book 1)

by Rebecca F. Kenney

  "Don't you need one of them?"

  Right. I had asked him for a leprechaun, so I could drain its powers. "Are you sure I won't take on any of their nastier traits? Like their ugliness or their green blood or their habit of spitting on people?"

  The Far Darrig laughs. "No, just the powers. Like the ability to transport yourself in the blink of an eye, or appear as a child to others. And of course the ability to take another's Life-Stream is already yours."

  "So what will happen if I take the leprechaun's powers, but not its Life-Stream?"

  "I don't know," he says, his silver eyes sparkling. "You don't know how good it feels to say that— to actually not know something. Let's find out, shall we? But not here. Let's go somewhere more private." The look he gives me makes my cheeks flush.

  "I can't," I say. "I really have to get home. Maeve's already going to put padlocks on my door, because of how late I am."

  "All the more reason to have leprechaun powers, sweetheart. You realize that once you have those, you can go anywhere and she'll never know?"

  Wow. He's right.

  "Okay then. Let's do it."

  He takes me downtown to his loft again. As we pass through the lobby, I notice that the concierge is the same one who let me wait in the back room the last time I was here. I hold my head high and pretend not to notice him or to care that he probably thinks I'm a horrible little slut.

  I'm not. Really I'm not. In spite of the fact that I'm here with a handsome Fae escort, while my sweet boyfriend is off eating waffles with regular teenagers.

  I can't rationalize that I'm doing this to protect Zane somehow, because I'm not. I'm doing this for me. I need this, to be free, to have the power to make my own choices in a world that's way more complicated than humans realize.

  Plus I've had a little taste of power now, and it's fun.

  "After you," says the Far Darrig. I walk into the loft, trying not to think about the last time he brought me here. I still have that blue dress in my closet; I'm not sure why.

  The leprechauns have blinked themselves from the car to the loft, so they're already there, waiting for us.

  "Do they live here with you?" I ask.

  "Definitely not," he says. "They have their own haunts. One of them is that mill building where— where we—"

  "Where we killed the pixie." Saying it out loud hurts.

  "I'm sorry for that," he says. "I got carried away."

  "See, that's the problem with you. Other men get carried away, and they drink too much, or sleep with someone they shouldn't, or punch somebody in the nose. You get carried away, and you make someone else kill for you."

  His jaw tightens, but he doesn't answer. We stand there, him with his arms folded, brows lowered and mouth grim, looking down at the floor. Me in the champagne dress, with my arms straight at my sides, hands in fists. The leprechauns are quiet for once, watching us from a corner.

  "You hate me," he says finally.

  I want to say yes, and no. "I'm not sure how I feel about you."

  He looks up, and I see a glimmer of hope in his eyes that goes straight to my heart. Oh my gosh, I think I actually care about him. What is wrong with me?

  "It's doesn't matter right now," I say. "Let's get on with our business and get me some powers. Are you sure you don't want to try for yourself? I'd hate to be selfish here."

  "I've tried," he says. "Without that druid blood, the power stream is barely visible, and I can't draw on it. You might be the only living being who can do this."

  Now that's pretty special. My mouth curves in a smile in spite of myself. The Far Darrig snaps his fingers at one of the leprechauns, but I have my eye on the other, the one who spat at me in the car. The one with the yellow and red eyes.

  "The other one," I say. The leprechaun's eyes widen, and he dissipates into thin air. "Crap, I wanted to power-steal from him. He's been especially mean to me."

  "This one will have to do." The Far Darrig whispers to the other leprechaun and the creature tumbles over, sound asleep. I speak the incantation, drawing out the Life-Stream and the power stream at once. The leprechaun's power appears as thick, choky, dull-green smoke.

  "Ugh! I really don't want to take this."

  He squeezes my bare shoulder gently. "It's up to you."

  They're like magic words, the ones I've always wanted to hear. It's up to me. I get to choose, and choosing this will give me even more freedom. Slowly, I disentangle the powers from the lifeline and draw them in, every last bit.

  Again I have the sensation of something new inside me, something different. It's a little unpleasant this time, but the heaviness of it subsides slowly. It's like putting on another layer— over my druid-Korrigan hybrid self is the pixie magic, and over the pixie magic is the leprechaun magic.

  "How do you feel?" asks the Far Darrig.

  "Good." I let the Life-Stream curl back into the creature, wondering how it will react when it awakens without powers.

  "Want to try transporting yourself?" He's trying to act nonchalant, but I can tell he's incredibly eager to see if it works.

  "You're kind of a scientist, aren't you? An explorer and an innovator of magical things."

  He flashes me a smile. "Come on, you have to admit this is exciting."

  "You're not even the one getting the powers."

  "Still." He rubs his hands together. "Let's see what you can do, love."

  "Do I need to say anything? A spell?"

  "Just try it without words first, and if it doesn't work we'll loosen things up with a spell. Don't go too far yet, though. You might not be able to get back."

  Letting go of all other thoughts, I close my eyes and focus on the lobby of the building. The polished floors. The heavy rug and sofas in the seating area. The big curved counter where the concierge stands. The expensive lighting fixtures.

  I open my eyes.

  The Far Darrig is watching me. I'm still in the loft.

  "I imagined the lobby, but it didn't work."

  "Try thinking of a specific spot where you would stand, not an entire room."

  "Is that what the leprechauns do?"

  He shrugs. "I'm not really sure how they do it."

  Shaking my head, I close my eyes and try again. This time I imagine myself standing right by the third set of elevator doors in the lobby, a short distance from the front desk.

  When my eyes open, I'm staring at the concierge. He turns his head a second later and sees me. I can see the "You again?" in his eyes, but he politely nods. "Can I help you, miss?"

  "No thanks." I probably shouldn't blink back to the loft while he's looking at me, so I turn and push the elevator button.

  Once I'm safely inside and the door closes, I picture a spot right next to the sleeping leprechaun in the loft. When I materialize, I'm face to face with the Far Darrig, who is standing there without a shirt on. I step back.

  "What are you doing?"

  "You did it!" He grins.

  "Yes, but what are you doing?"

  "Changing clothes. I'm not used to wearing a tux all night; I'd rather be comfortable. And I thought you'd be gone longer."

  "Liar." I pick up the dress shirt from the ground and throw it at him.

  He dodges, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he laughs. While he's pulling a red T-shirt over his head, I sneak a look at him. His chest and abs look just as good as his face.

  He settles the T-shirt into place. "There. Is my lady less offended now?"

  What am I doing playing around with him when I have a boyfriend? Being as boy-crazy and beauty-worshiping as Gillian and Gemma? I'm better than this.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I sit down on a nearby chair. "Far Darrig— I mean— can I call you Kieran? It sounds less weird."

  "If you like. It's a good name."

  "Or I could call you—" I search for the memory of his real name."Midir."

  His face changes. "I'd rather not."

  "Kieran it is, then. Kieran, I have to tell you that I'm with Za
ne. He's officially my boyfriend now."

  "So?"

  "So you need to stop all this flirting. And I need to stop it, too. We have a mutual interest in magic, and that's all."

  "There are many kinds of magic," he says, grinning.

  "Stop it. You're doing that 'bedroom eyes' thing again."

  "What thing? This?" He gives me the look, the one that makes me warm all over. The one that speaks straight to my hormones and leaves my brain completely out of the picture.

  But I'm not helpless anymore. I don't have to sit here and deal with his intentions and get confused about mine. I can leave.

  So I picture myself in my room, sitting on my own bed.

  And a split second later, I'm there.

  18

  STAY

  Aislinn

  I nearly break my neck tripping over my dress in the dark, trying to get to the light switch. I turn it on, half-expecting to see Maeve in my room, waiting for me. But the room is empty. If she's waiting up, she'll be downstairs, probably in the entry hall.

  Quickly I slip out of the dress, take down my hair, and put on pajama shorts and a matching tank top. I smear my makeup around a bit and wipe some of it off so it looks like I've been sleeping in it.

  As a final touch, I take the ruby necklace from my jewelry box. I haven't worn it since I found out it was somehow linked to my weird dreams— the hideous nightmares and the one not-so-hideous dream featuring the Far Darrig. But for some reason, I clasp it around my neck before I go to bed. Just to see what will happen.

  I tell myself it's for research, and also because I feel bad about skipping out on our experiment without waiting for the full results. I still don't know how the leprechaun reacted when it woke up. And it seems rude to use the powers he showed me to abandon him like that.

  I push away the thought that maybe I'm putting on the necklace because I want to see him again.

  After using the bathroom, I flush the toilet and wash my hands, knowing that if Maeve is awake, the noise of water in the pipes will probably bring her to my door.

  Maybe I can still get away with this, if I pretend I've been in bed this whole time.

  In a minute or two, Maeve strides through my door without knocking. I roll over in bed and sit up, rubbing my eyes against the light she flips on.

  "What's going on?" I mumble.

  "Explain this," she says. Her face is pale with rage, her eyes narrowed.

  "What? I'm in bed. I just got up to use the bathroom."

  "You were out past curfew."

  "Not really. Maybe a few minutes. I came in the back way."

  "No, you didn't," says Gillian. She's standing behind Maeve. "I was watching the back way."

  "Fine, I came in through the window," I say. "I was a few minutes late, so I thought I would sneak in."

  "I checked your room at 11 and at 12, and at 1," says Maeve. "You were not here."

  Crap.

  "Do you know what time it is now?" she asks.

  There's a clock on my bedroom wall. It's about 1:30 in the morning. "Pretty late."

  "Get up." She grips me painfully tight by the shoulder and hauls me out of bed. "This is the end of my patience with you, child. You're a lying, conniving, disobedient girl, and you're going to be punished for it in the way you deserve."

  As she drags me from the room, I can see that Gillian is already holding the walking stick, the one they used to use for my punishments. They haven't used it on me in a few years. Are they planning to use it on me now? Are they crazy? I'm seventeen. I'm stronger now— and I deserve to be treated with more respect.

  I throw myself backward suddenly, breaking Maeve's hold, and I step back. "Stop!" I say. "This is ridiculous. I'm not a child anymore. You can't do this."

  Maeve steps closer, and magical words hiss between her teeth— the same spell the Far Darrig used in the alley, weaving around me, binding me. I'm immobile and helpless.

  "See what you've done!" she says. "You've made me use magic. I despise magic. Foul, filthy, lying enchantments, and their detestable users. It's no surprise you turned out to be a liar and deceiver, thanks to your father's blood. And your mother was just as disobedient as you. She fooled me until the day she left with him. But I won't make that mistake twice. You'll stay here until you learn to obey your elders— your Queen."

  "You're not a queen anymore. Let me go!"

  Instead, she motions to Gillian, who drops the walking stick, takes me by the shoulders and drags me slowly down the stairs. As much as she grunts and groans at the chore, I'm sure she delights in every bump of my back and legs on the edges of the steps. Gillian likes causing pain. It's who she is.

  It takes an eternity to reach the basement, but I don't cry or protest any more. And I refuse to vanish— I don't want to show them my secret power till I have to. If they're taking me where I think they are, there will be plenty of time to test my powers later.

  Sure enough, they open the trapdoor in the floor, the gateway to my dungeon. I'm hoping they'll decide I've been bruised enough and forget the beating, but Maeve is carrying the stick with her. She hands it to Gillian.

  "Until you think it's enough," she says. "Then put her in."

  My grandmother turns on her heels and ascends the basement steps without a backward look.

  "Gillian," I say. "Please. You helped me with my hair, my dress. You were excited for me. You don't have to do this."

  "Do you know what I used to do? Long ago, when all this first started?" She trails a fingertip along the walking stick. "I was one of Maeve's trusted personal servants. A maid, yes, caring for her hair and clothes— but a warrior too. A Punisher. It was my job to discipline anyone who showed her disrespect. My job, because I asked for that job."

  She lays the first blow across my legs with a crack. I bite my lips.

  "You're going to ruin us, you know," she says. "You already have. We were happier, freer, without you moping around the house at night like a creepy little changeling."

  Another crack.

  "We had to move so many times because of you. You remember Vermont?"

  I remember. Vermont was the first and only time I ever ran away.

  I was small, about five, I think. Magnolia fell asleep on the couch while doing night watch with me. I still remember her slack, smooth face, mouth open, a faint snore wafting out. I wanted someone new to play with, someone my age— so I put on my shoes, picked up two small dolls, and went outside.

  We lived on a Vermont farm, way out in the country, with miles between neighbors. The twins despised it; even now they talk about it with loathing, and Arden remembers the slowness of the internet. But all I knew, at age five, was that I hated the reinforced barn out back where I transformed every day. And I wanted friends. All the kid shows on TV talked about friendship, but I'd never had a little friend of my own.

  I also had no concept of time, temperature, or distance. I made it all the way down the long driveway and a couple miles along the narrow country road beyond. It was late autumn, and bitterly cold at night, and as the wind whooshed over the cold dirt road the leaves scattered, chattering like little ghost children.

  When I was too tired to walk any further, I went up to a neighbor's farmhouse and knocked. The people inside didn't enjoy being woken by a tiny white-faced redhead at 1 a.m., but they let me in and then called the police. The Korrigan somehow managed to get me back home right before dawn, and they had to shut me in the barn almost immediately. Magnolia told me that when the social worker came by later in the day to check on me, Maeve ordered her to leave. That evening, when they let me out, they were already nearly packed. We left Vermont that very night.

  "Guess what?" says Gillian. "I had to leave the only human I ever cared about in Vermont, because of you." Crack! "I'm over it now, of course. Humans aren't worth my sorrow. But that's just one of the many ways you messed up our lives. If it had been me, I'd have tossed you to the Far Darrig a long time ago and let him and his leprechauns eat you up, body and soul.
"

  In spite of the pain, I almost laugh. She has no idea how much the Far Darrig would like to consume me, body and soul, in a very different way. Thanks to him, I'm going to get out of this hell— if she would just finish the beating and get on with dumping me in the dungeon.

  "You don't really belong here, you never have. And if you know what's good for you, you'll make a bigger effort to fit in with us, rather than with the humans. Because you know Aislinn, family is forever." She chuckles and gives me a last strike with the rod.

  "Now if I release this spell, you're not going to try anything, are you? Because you know you won't get far. The others will catch you and put you right back in here."

  I try my best to look beaten, emotionally as well as physically. "I won't try anything."

  Gillian says a few words to release the binding spell. It's almost worse once I can move, because I feel my injuries even more. Was I a glorious dancing queen in a beautiful dress just a few hours ago? It seems like a dream now.

  I have to feel my way down the ladder, because Gillian refuses to turn on the light. In fact, she starts retracting the ladder before I've quite reached the bottom, and I have to jump off before it pulls too far away from the ground. Something wriggles, half-squished, under my bare foot, and I scream a little. The trapdoor closes, and I'm alone in the dark.

  Now I can plan my escape. Fast, because I don't want to stay down here with the creepy-crawlies any longer than I have to.

  At first I consider blinking back to my room to get my phone and pack a bag. But what if one of the Korrigan is there? I wouldn't put it past Maeve to be in my space, taking away my laptop, my TV, and other items. She's done it before. And if I go back upstairs, they'll know I have powers. They'll lock me down magically for good, and I won't get another chance to escape.

  I could go to Arden's room. I've seen it, briefly, as I passed her open door— I could visualize a space to appear. But if I startle her, or if someone's there with her— it's too much to risk. I'll have to get a message to her later and trust that she'll play her part well.