by Anya Bast
“What made the fae think they had to hide from us?”
Kieran’s lips quirked. “Because the fae were so few in number and the humans so many. We knew that if they feared us we were doomed. Even with our skills in magick.”
She looked down in the last little bit of her beer. “And we feared you.”
“And we were doomed.”
“Some of us still fear you.”
Kieran grunted. “They’re going to have to get over it. We’re tired of being doomed.”
The room fell silent for a little while. Finally Eian cleared his throat. “So what brings you into the hollow hills, my dear?” Eian took another sip of his beer. She noticed now that he had a slight trace of a Scottish accent.
She jerked her thumb at Kieran. “Him. Against my will.” She took another drink of her beer.
“Against your will? What’s this story about, Kieran?”
Kieran shifted on the floor. “One of her maternal names is MacBrehon.”
The entire room plunged into icy silence.
Eian’s gaze fell on her. “Oh.”
Charlotte choked on her beer. Kieran pounded her on her back. “What don’t I know?” she finally was able to ask, pushing the beer mug far from her.
Eian gave her a kind smile. “It’s nothing, dear. I just haven’t heard that name in a long, long time.”
“What does the name mean to you?” she pressed.
Eian held Kieran’s gaze for a pregnant moment and they communicated without words. She knew what they were saying—don’t tell the human anything.
“You’ll find all that out later.” Kieran’s voice held a note of finality.
She raised her eyebrows and popped a cube of cheese into her mouth. If Kieran thought she was done pushing for information on this subject, he was mistaken. MacBrehon. She’d had her genealogy done, but she didn’t remember that name. It was true, though, that genealogy tended to trace the paternal line rather than the maternal.
Gosh, despite being stonewalled, she was feeling warm and tingly and just plain nice. She glanced at the almost empty beer mug.
The brownie stood. “I hear that Lillian has awoken. Would you like to meet my wife, Charlotte?”
She glanced at Kieran, having the feeling that Lillian was the reason they’d come. “I’d love to meet her.”
They walked through a tiny doorway that she and Kieran had to stoop to get through and entered a bedroom that had an enormous window on the far wall, giving a stellar view of the well taken care of backyard. Lillian was short and slender, her skin reminding Charlotte of wood bark—brown, and textured with age. Her hair lay like a downy white cloud against the pillow and she wore a pair of fragile gold glasses on the bridge of her nose. She reminded Charlotte of the stereotypical grandmother, something she had never known, and she immediately warmed to her.
Lillian’s eyes opened behind her wire-rimmed spectacles and widened when she caught sight of them entering the room. “Kieran, you’ve brought me a guest. Oh, a human.” She reached out tiny hands. “It’s been so long.”
It felt completely natural for Charlotte to go to Lillian and take her hands. She smiled down into the older brownie’s face as Kieran found a human adult–sized chair and slid it beneath her so she could sit at Lillian’s bedside. She wasn’t sure why she found these brownies so enchanting. Perhaps because, unlike so many of the other types of fae she’d seen so far, they were so nonthreatening.
“Lillian, please meet my friend, Charlotte.” Kieran pulled up another larger sized chair beside her.
She shot him a look. Friend? That was going a little too far. Charlotte turned her attention back to the brownie. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My middle name is Lillian, in fact.”
“How lovely!” Lillian squeezed her hand, but it was weak. “The pleasure is mine. I used to take care of the nicest human family’s gardens back in the old days. I would allow their youngest daughter to catch glimpses of me in the hedgerow from time to time.” Lillian giggled. “She was a sweet little thing, believed in faeries, thanks to me.”
Charlotte studied the older woman for a moment before replying, her brow knitted. She knew she might not like the answer to the question she was about to ask, but the beer was sitting so pleasant and warm inside her, and she was feeling so light and free. “How can you still have such positive feelings for humans, Lillian, when we’ve done so many bad things to you?”
Kieran’s gaze sharpened on her. Charlotte glanced at him, frowned, and gave her attention to Lillian once again.
“Oh, my dear, all the races do horrible things to each other. It’s part of growing up.” Lillian patted her hand. “One day, many eons from now, perhaps all of us will grow up enough to realize attacking each other is truly attacking ourselves.”
Charlotte smiled into the woman’s face. “I hope so.”
Lillian looked at Kieran. “What a lovely woman you’ve brought to us. Is she HFF?”
Kieran coughed, maybe trying to stifle a laugh. “No, Lillian, she’s not affiliated with them. I just thought she might provide you with a little distraction. How have you been feeling?”
“Old.” A smile broke Lillian’s face. “But that’s what happens to all of us, right?” She patted Charlotte’s hand again. “And it comes even sooner for others of us, doesn’t it, Charlotte ? My old is your ancient.”
Charlotte smiled back at her. “Yet you’re still beautiful.”
“Oh, thank you, child, but you’re ten times more beautiful than I ever was, even when I was in the blush of my youth.”
She leaned forward a little, shaking her head. Physical beauty hadn’t been what she’d been talking about. “No, I mean you are so beautiful.” She frowned. Had she said beautiful or boofootal?
“Uh.” Kieran eyed her and, scowling, she eyed him right back. “I think we should get going.”
“Gave the human your beer, didn’t you, Eian!” Lillian yelled. She muttered for a moment in Old Maejian. “Man loves to sow chaos.”
“Come on, Charlotte,” Kieran said, rising. “We better get you out of here.”
She swatted his hands away when he tried to help her stand. “Leave me be.”
“Oh, dear.” Lillian pressed a hand to her mouth. “Will she be all right?”
Kieran put a hand on her hip to steady her and she moved to the side, knocking his hand away. “She’ll be fine, Lillian.”
“Lovely girl, Kieran.” She winked at him. Then her face fell as though she realized she’d said the wrong thing. “Oh, I’m sorry. My mouth ran away with me.”
“It’s okay.”
The brownie reached out and touched his hand. “You don’t deserve the curse, you know. We all think that.”
We all? Charlotte frowned, trying to figure out who we all could be.
“I do deserve it. I could’ve stopped him.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You couldn’t have.”
Now Charlotte was more confused than ever. She shifted to the side and nearly fell over. Kieran grabbed her before she collapsed.
“We better go. Good-bye, Lillian.” Kieran guided her out of the room.
NINE
ONCE outside, he pushed her toward the bike and threw her the helmet. “Are you sure you can hold on well enough to ride this thing?”
She slid the helmet onto her head. “What do you mean? I feel great.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do.”
She grinned. “Beer is delicious.”
He rolled his eyes. “We have one more stop today.” He threw his leg over the bike. “Get on, drunkard.”
“I’m not drunk.” She got on behind him and molded herself to his body with a sigh. His body was so warm and had that soft hardness of a man in great physical shape.
He stiffened against her. “Honey, you’re toasted. You’re a lightweight, too. You only had one beer, even if was fae-brewed.”
“Hey! You are raining all over my first beer parade. Stop it!”
“First be
er?” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “That was your first beer? As in, before today you’ve never drank any? I thought most humans went to college.”
“I went to college; I just never drank there. That was indeed my first beer.” She stabbed her finger in the air. “Not only that, it was my first alcoholic drink ever.”
“Good Danu, woman. Next you’re going to tell me you’re a virgin.”
“I—”
“No. Don’t. I don’t want to know.” The bike revved to life and he guided it away from the curb, making her yelp and cling to him again.
They traveled through the suburbs and back into the Boundary Lands. Navigating small gravel roads slowly and carefully, he led her through the forests and down an even narrower path that must have been meant only for walking. The trees finally opened up and revealed a gorgeous forest glen with a canopy of majestic oaks. The colors seemed extra vibrant here, like every leaf and flower had been hand-painted in a totally pure color. A tranquil forest lake backdropped by a cliff and fed by a waterfall sat in the middle of it all.
Kieran cut the engine and she clambered off the bike, pulling the helmet from her head and letting it drop to the soft earth as she stumbled toward the lake. “It’s beautiful, like something out of a dream.” She tripped and went down onto her knees. The ground seemed to sparkle and shine with tiny blue and green dots. “What is that?”
“Fae.” Kieran came to stand behind her.
Suddenly she realized that he meant the little dots were living creatures . . . the sprat? . . . and she was kneeling on them. She bolted to her feet and tripped backward, gasping. Then realizing the dots were everywhere, she yelped and picked up her booted feet. There was nowhere safe to stand or walk.
Kieran laughed. “Don’t worry about it. They’re more like molecules than mammals.”
“Niall explained them to me on the way to the Black Tower. They’re not aware?”
“They probably have some type of awareness. When the Phaendir imprisoned the fae in Piefferburg, they followed us from all over the world. They alone can pass through the warding the Phaendir have erected, but they never leave. They seemed to be drawn to us. They’re the lifeblood of the Boundary Lands, the magick in these trees and plants.”
“I saw them on my drive into the city, but why are there so many concentrated right here?”
“No one knows.” He rotated in a slow circle, admiring the tiny fae floating through the air. The edge of the tattoo peeking at his collar seemed especially dark against his skin. “We just enjoy it.”
She held out her hand to a clump of them. “Pretty, pretty sprat.”
“Sprae.” He held out his hand and thousands of the little beings seemed to adhere to it. “We call them sprae.”
“Huh.” She waved her hand and the sprae came to her, too, covering her fingers and palms. She couldn’t even feel them on her skin. “Why do they do that?”
He moved his hand this way and that, admiring the tiny beings. “They’re attracted to fae blood.”
“But I’m not fae.”
He was already walking away, his head up as he took in the environment and a faraway look on his face. He hadn’t even heard her.
Frowning, she moved her hand and the sprae shot away. She walked to the edge of the pool and sat down on a rock. Small orange, green, and blue fish darted through the crystal clear water. Just sitting here, hearing the waterfall not far away, feeling the tranquility of this place—it made everything okay, even the bad stuff. Just for this one moment. “This place is magical.” Then she blushed, realizing what she’d said.
“Yes, it is.” Kieran sat down on the rock next to her.
“I mean, of course it’s magical,” she muttered.
“This place is more so than the rest of Piefferburg. I brought you here so you could see its beauty.”
“And why did you take me to Eian and Lillian’s?”
He gazed up at the sparkling fae orbs above him. “So you could meet a nonthreatening fae couple. They’re very nice, gentle. Nicer and gentler than many humans. I wanted you to see more than just the Black Tower while you’re here.” He met her gaze. “You were very sweet with them.”
She frowned. “What did you think I was going to do? Beat them?”
He said nothing for a moment, his gaze dropping to her mouth. Heat rushed through her body. “Of course not.” He paused, meeting her eyes once more. “I was wrong to assume you were as bigoted as your father.”
“Yes, you were.” She looked away from him. “How do you know Eian and Lillian? I thought I read that brownies are more disposed to hang out with the Seelie, rather than the Unseelie.” A dragonfly with vibrant blue, purple, and green wings rose up from the base of the lake and hovered near her nose for a moment. “Oh,” she breathed and reached out to touch it. It darted away.
He looked down at the ground, saying nothing for several moments. “They are, but I have a special relationship with these particular Seelie-drawn fae.”
She felt all delicious, loose, and relaxed. And here she was, unbelievably having the most enchanting—literally—time of her life. If it hadn’t been for the beer and her surroundings, she never would have felt comfortable prying deeper. “What kind of relationship?”
He stood and walked around the lake. Finally, he stopped to look at her. “My twin brother tortured and killed their daughter.”
That wasn’t even close to something she’d thought he might say. Maybe that he played poker with Eian once a week, or that his aunt had been friends with Lillian or something. Not torture. Definitely not murder. She stared at him, at a loss for a reply.
Kieran walked toward her slowly. “You should understand this is not something many people know, especially people who think I’m their enemy.”
“I’ve got good reason to think you’re my enemy.”
“I won’t argue that. Regardless, you should know about this because of the situation we’re in. Indirectly, you’re a part of my past.”
“What does that mean?”
“Are you going to let me finish?”
She nodded.
“A long time ago, the various fae races were at war with each other. You know all that, but what you might not know is that during the wars the Wild Hunt ceased to come for those who murdered.” He paused. “And there were those who took advantage of it. My twin brother, Diarmad—”
“Took advantage?”
Kieran nodded. “He was a soldier, as was I. We fought in the war on the side of the Unseelie, but Diarmad targeted the troop, specifically the Seelie-drawn fae, like the brownies. Innocents.” He went silent for a moment, studying the floating orbs around him. “There had always been something off about him, something dark. Ever since we’d been kids he’d been that way. I guess it was making his first kill in the war; it pushed him over the edge. He started killing for fun.”
“He was like some kind of fae serial killer.”
Kieran nodded. “A fae with the ability to tear flesh with his mind.”
She put a hand to her mouth. “That . . . makes me want to throw up and then become a vegetarian.”
He smiled, his eyes glittering. “Because of that psychic connection I told you about, I had the misfortune to experience every single kill he made. It was like I bathed in their blood when he did. He loved it. He lived for it. And every time it happened, a part of me died.”
She swallowed hard. While she thought he was evil for what he’d done to her, she didn’t think he was that kind of evil. “Didn’t having that kind of a connection make you insane?”
“It did. It made me so insane that I was going to kill my own twin. Someone else beat me to it.” He raised his eyebrows. “Emmaline. Remember her?”
She blinked, trying to reconcile the image of the smiling, extroverted Emmaline with the killer of a fae psychopath. “Emmaline?”
“Back then she was an assassin for the Summer Queen, which is a story for another day. The important part is she killed Diarmad just after he
’d slaughtered Eian and Lillian’s daughter. He was going to kill them, too, but she saved them.”
She shook her head. “But I still don’t understand how you became friends with Eian and Lillian after that. Don’t they associate your face with the one they must see in their nightmares?”
“They are remarkable fae. They understand I’m not Diarmad and I never was. They understand that I need to make amends for the pain my brother caused, even though nothing I can ever do will make it better. I still carry a lot of guilt for not stopping Diarmad sooner. Eian and Lillian, along with the families of other fae Diarmad harmed, have been gracious and bighearted enough to allow me to help them in any way I can. And I have done so. For centuries.”
She eyed him, suddenly suspicious. “Are you telling me all this so I’ll like you?”
“I don’t care if you like me or not. In fact, it’s better if you don’t like me. No, I’m telling you all this so you can see the humanity”—his lips quirked—“so to speak, in the fae.” He reached out and touched a miniscule green and blue orb. “And the beauty.”
“You’re trying to get me to be less . . . bigoted.” She winced on the word.
“Now that I’ve spent a little time with you, I don’t think you’re a bigot. However, I do think you’ve spent a lifetime listening to your father’s revulsion of us. While you are intelligent enough to have drawn your own conclusions about the fae rather than inheriting his hatred, you still fear us. I’m trying to ease that fear and make you more amenable to having those memories accessed.”
Her jaw locked. She almost told him about the nightmares, but that was far too personal a thing to share. Instead, she looked into the beautiful blue water. After a moment she thought she saw a woman’s face on the surface. She shook her head and it disappeared. Sheesh. No more fae-brewed beer for her.
The face reappeared, this time much more solid. It was a young woman with a delicate visage, the long white-blond tendrils of her hair waving out around her head in a watery halo. She gazed up at Charlotte with dark blue eyes. Her skin was a pale pink, the color of the underside of a seashell. A slender body encased in a long white gown materialized as well.