Someday we break apart, and his chest is heaving so hard it's almost like he's crying. Then I see tears glittering in his eyes. He is crying— but the next second he turns away, bending his dark head like he wants to hide it.
"Don't," I say, and I take his face in my hands and turn it toward me. "I want to see you. The real you, inside."
When he looks back at me with those silver-gray eyes, I look deep into them. And then I kiss him, on each cheek, and then on his beautiful mouth again.
"I know you," I say. "I know who you really are. And you're mine."
He seals the last word with his mouth. He's running his hands along my back, along the bare skin, and I realize that we're both a little clothing optional here, just wet bits of swimsuit between us. Not that I mind— in fact part of me doesn't care at all. Not a bit. But we did just have our first real kiss, and moving straight from that to— something else— probably isn't the best move.
I think he realizes that, too, because he pauses and leans back a little.
"We should probably go back to the beach," I whisper shakily. "They'll wonder where we are."
"I hate that idea, but yes," he answers, his breath mingling with mine.
I rise slowly, and he does too. But as I start to move away, he catches me, warm hands on either side of my waist, and leans in for another kiss.
Oh my gosh. I didn't know I'd been waiting for his lips since the moment he gave me my first kiss in the alley. He scared me then, but now— I know who he is, that he'd never hurt me, or make me do anything I don't want to do again.
When the kiss ends, he runs his fingers through my wet hair. Touches my face. "You are so beautiful," he says. "Soul and mind and body— just beautiful."
What do I say to that?
"You too." I smile when I say it, like I'm teasing him, but I really mean it.
He's got that look again, that come-here-I-want-you smile in his eyes. If he kisses me again I'm going to forget why I shouldn't stay up here with him, just the two of us alone, forever.
I open the door to the room and step into the hall, and he follows me, reaching for my hand. This time, when we walk past the pool on our way to the beach, every single person looks at us. It's no wonder, because I can't stop smiling, and I feel like I'm glowing from the inside out. And he's smiling— he looks the happiest I've ever seen him.
And everyone wants to be us.
We race back into the surf together, and I decide not to worry about jellyfish, or Fates, or anyone or anything else. We body-surf the waves, and we splash each other and then he grabs me again and picks me up and kisses me right there, with the ocean swirling around us.
Eventually we run back to Arden and Wynnie, and they both smile, and I know they saw the kiss. I still can't stop smiling.
"We should clean up and go see Múireann," says Kieran.
"You two go ahead," Arden says. "We'll hang out here for a while. Aislinn, text me when you're ready to go to dinner."
I don't stop smiling while I'm showering, or getting dressed, or putting my makeup on, or putting curl-taming product in my hair. I'm almost done when someone knocks, and my heart double-flips.
It's him.
"I tried to wait, but you took forever," he says. "Why do women think they have to do all these extra things to look beautiful? That never changes, no matter how many centuries pass. The 1500s and 1600s were the worst and weirdest fashions, for men and women; be glad you don't live in that age. I do not miss those outfits."
"I'll bet you looked dashing."
"Huge lace collars and cuffs? All those bulky layers? No, I did not. Which is why I usually dressed in peasant attire and haunted the forests and country roads, looking for lone maidens."
I roll my eyes. "You think you're funny, don't you?"
"Sometimes." He bows with a flourish and offers me his arm gracefully. "My lady."
10
RIPTIDE
Aislinn
The drive to Múireann's house is beautiful— waving palms and vacation homes, and between them, glimpses of wind-washed dunes and sparkling blue water. I love looking at all the beach houses and imagining which one would be mine.
Múireann's place is a plain white cottage, set up high in case of rising water and protected by a series of dunes. It's weather-worn, slightly unkempt, with bits of debris and driftwood and junk all around it. There are two old cars parked in the driveway, and another on the lawn, covered with a blue tarp that's flapping loose at one corner.
"Are you sure she lives here?" I ask Kieran.
He shrugs. "Arden says so. I trust her skills."
"No photos of her, though?"
He shakes his head. "If no one answers, we'll have to find her the human way. By looking around."
We mount the peeling, weather-eaten steps, and with every dramatic creak I'm afraid one of us will crash right through them to the sandy dirt below. But they hold, and we make it to the porch. Kieran knocks, and we wait, while the surf rushes and roars just beyond the dunes.
Just as Kieran raises his hand to knock again, the door opens. The screen door stays latched though, and the man inside peers at us, frowning. He's a grizzled, leathery type, with white hair, the kind of guy I'd imagine working on a fishing boat all day.
"No solicitation," he growls.
"Not selling anything," I say quickly. "Just looking for Múireann."
His prickly gray eyebrows shoot up. "Ya mean Maureen?"
Kieran nods. "That's right."
"Good luck findin' her," says the man. "She's gone on one of her little ocean trips. No knowing when she'll be back. Gets restless when the bad part of hurricane season starts, late August, early September or so."
"Where does she go?" I ask.
The man squints at me, then at Kieran. "What do y'all want with Maureen anyway?"
"Just to talk," says Kieran. "She may know the location of something we're looking for."
"Hm. Well, like I said, I never know when she's going or when she'll be back."
I step forward. "That must be so difficult for you," I say softly.
"I'm used to it. Been that way since we met."
"How did you meet?" I'm genuinely curious, because hello— mermaids! I've loved the idea of mermaids since I was little.
The man's leathery face twists into a smile, and I see a gleam in his brown eyes. I imagine that he must once have been handsome. Even now, weather-worn as he is, there's something charming about him when he smiles.
"You two sweethearts?" he asks.
I tuck my arm into Kieran's. "Yes, we are."
"I knew it. I can pick 'em out, the lovebirds. Just like we were once. Still are." He unlatches the screen door. "Come on in and sit a spell. I got beer— you look a little young for that, honey— got some sweet tea. I'll tell y'a story. Come on."
Old wicker furniture, piled with blue and white pillows, fills the house's tiny living room. Nearly every inch of the walls bears canvas paintings , from sweeping views of the sea to still life groupings of shells, seaweed, and tiny ocean creatures. Some of the paintings feature an underwater perspective.
When the man returns from the kitchen with the drinks, I say, "These paintings are so unique, and beautiful."
"My Maureen is quiet the artist," he says. "Been painting for years. We sell 'em sometimes, to make a little money, but mostly she just likes keepin' 'em."
After giving me the sweet tea, he hands Kieran a beer and settles into a rocker with his own.
"So me and Maureen go way back," he says. "I was about nineteen I guess. A shy kid, didn't know how to talk to girls at all, or anyone really. Didn't ask anyone to prom. Didn't have money for college, figured I'd just get a job on a boat and go anywhere.
"So I'm out one day, with my buddy's scuba gear, and I'm divin' alone, which is dumb, ya know— never do that. Dangerous. But I'm out there, at this spot I know, kind of a secret place. And I'm under the water, watchin' the wildlife, when this thing just shoots past me. It's almost as big as
me, right, and I'm thinkin' shark. But I just freeze, cause I don't know where it went.
"So I stay real still. And after a few minutes, I see it swimming up ahead, slow, just swerving through the water. And it's a girl, but with a long narrow tail like an eel or a skipjack, and she's got these webs between her fingers, and gills in her neck, and her hair flowin' behind her.
"I'm was scared, but real excited too. She didn't see me at first. And then, she looked right at me, saw me watchin' her. And she looked so mad, and sad, too. She shot toward me, grabbed me, and pulled me far, far out, so fast, and then we went down, deep down. I knew she was gonna drown me so I wouldn't tell anyone about her.
"But I didn't fight. I just let her pull me down. And when we stopped, way down there in the blue, she started unhooking my scuba gear, and I just waited. I didn't try to stop her, I just looked at her. See, she was the wildest, most beautiful creature I ever saw, and if I was gonna die, there'd be no better way to go. It would sure beat out all the kids from school, who'd likely die wrinkled in their beds or bloody in some car wreck. Me, I was gonna get drowned by a mermaid.
"So she's unhooking my air, and I'm just watching her, and she looks at me through the mask, like she's wondering why I don't struggle. And then all of a sudden she drags me up, up, back to the surface, and she takes off my mask. She waits a second for her gills to disappear, and then she says, 'Do you want to die?' And I say, 'Only if you're the one to kill me.'
"After that she took me back to the beach, and we just started talkin'. I could talk to her, see, better than anyone I ever met. And I guess she felt the same about me. We been together ever since."
He's looking at both of us, rocking in the old chair with his beer, grinning. "Now if you believe all that, you're dumber than I thought." But his eyes glitter, like it's a test.
"We believe you," I say.
"Yeah?" says the old man. "Prove it."
So I just go for it. "I'm Aislinn Byrne, and I'm Korrigan," I say. "We shapeshift into beasts during the day unless we take Life-Stream from others— and don't worry, I'm full up on Life-Stream right now. This is Kieran, of the Tuatha Dé Danann."
It's a better title for Kieran than Far Darrig, especially since I don't want to scare this old guy. We need him to like us.
"Fae folk, eh? I thought you seemed a little different," he says, nodding. "All right then, all right. Well, my name's Rick, and I think you already knew that my wife Maureen is a merrow."
"We really need to speak to her," I say. "We believe she may know something about the Second Gate— do you know what that is?"
"A damn dangerous thing, is what I know," Rick says. "Why you lookin' for it?"
"To stop someone from opening it during Samhain," says Kieran.
The man stops rocking. "Why would anybody do somethin' so stupid?"
"We're trying to figure that out too, and we only have a couple months to do it. That's why we need Maureen's help. Someone told us that she knows where the gate is."
"If she does, she won't tell ya," Rick says. "That woman's lips lock up tighter than a clamshell when anyone talks about the Otherworld."
"Do you have any way to contact her?" asks Kieran.
"Nope. She comes back when she comes."
Kieran sighs. "May we leave you a number and an email address? Maybe she would agree to speak with us when she returns."
"Sure thing." Rick gets up, shuffles around on the cluttered desk, and hands Kieran a piece of paper and a pen. "No guarantees though. My woman's got a mind of her own."
"That's the best kind of woman," Kieran says, smiling.
"Damn right, son," says the old man. "Damn right."
As we walk out, he says, "Y'all can go down to our beach if you want, anytime you like while you're here. Don't mind the signs, we just put 'em out to scare people away. But the warnings about the riptides are real. Only my Maureen can handle the currents that flow past this point."
"Thank you." I wave to him, and Kieran steers me toward the beach. "I don't want to go back just yet," he whispers, his breath warm on my cheek.
Past the dunes, there's a short stretch of sand, bordered by a pile of rocks on one side and a mound of driftwood on the other. With the height of the dunes behind us, it's almost like a three-walled room, open to the ocean. The signs the old man told us about are strung along the tops of the dunes and down by the boulders— "No Trespassing" signs interspersed with warnings about old land mines and deadly currents.
No one else dares to come here, apparently, so Kieran and I are alone. We leave our shoes on the dunes and walk toward the ocean.
After just a few steps, though, he swings me around to face him, pulls me tight against his chest. "It feels like forever since I kissed you," he says.
"Too long," I agree, and I kiss him gently at first, then more fiercely. I'm hungry for him; I feel like I want to melt into him, be a part of him. He isn't close enough, can never be close enough. My lips part for him, and his for me. He rests one hand on my neck, his thumb tracing that sensitive spot below my ear. His other hand runs up my spine, and thrills flow through my entire body from the touch. I hook my fingers into the waistband of his shorts and pull him closer.
Suddenly he moves away from me, and I let out a little sound of disappointment.
"Wait." He pulls off his T-shirt in one fluid motion and spreads it on the sand. Seating himself on it, he looks up at me, invitation in his eyes.
So I sit across his lap, and he kisses me like every girl should be kissed, like I'm the only person he has ever wanted in all his long life— or at least in the past several centuries. Like he's drowning, and I'm his oxygen. It's so intense that when we break apart to breathe, I see stars for a second, and he says, "Wow."
I laugh, because I've never heard him say that, and it's exactly what I was thinking.
"I've been wanting to kiss you again for months," he says. "That first time I kissed you I felt a connection, like I'd finally found something I never knew I wanted. Like you were someone I needed to know."
"I couldn't stop thinking about you, even after I told you to leave forever," I say. "I kept looking for you everywhere. Every time I saw someone in red." I touch his bare chest. "But I've noticed you're not doing the red thing as much anymore."
"Red was a memory. It was part of the role I created for myself, and a way to keep Etain with me," he says. "But she's gone. She's been gone for generations, and she doesn't need my love."
"No," I say, running my fingers through the waves of dark hair at his temple. "I need it, because I love you."
"You do?" he says, as if he can't really believe it.
"I love you. I love who you are under all the names you carry, and in spite of anything you have done or will do. I love you."
"And I love you," he says, eyes burning bright silver.
I lay my head on his chest where I can hear his voice like the deep murmur of the ocean.
"Do you know when I first realized I could love you? By the lake, when you threw that branch at me, stole my bike, and rode away." He laughs. "I became obsessed with you— you know that part. But I knew for sure that I loved you when you broke my spell."
He's not laughing now; it's a painful memory for both of us.
"That's when?"
"Sometime between that, and the moments when you were beating my face in, yes. That's when I realized that your happiness was more important to me than my own. Even if you chose him. And I couldn't forgive myself for causing you pain."
"Kieran, don't think about it. I forgive you."
"You said you would never forgive me, a few different times. Like when I left you in the forest to change, and brought you back to the loft."
"Brought me back naked," I add.
"Now there's a memory I'd like to relive," he says, running his fingers up my leg to the edge of my shorts. Oh my gosh.
"I first realized I loved you in the druids' dungeon, right after I broke your chains," I say, to distract myself. "You said you
didn't really leave because you couldn't stand being far away from me. And I felt exactly the same way. But I think I loved you long before that, before I let myself admit it."
"Remember that dream I gave you? The good one, with the kiss?" Again, that low chuckle of his, beautiful, and I will never get enough of it.
"Stop talking," I say, and I swing myself astride his lap, and I kiss him again, and again.
Finally we both remember where we are— on someone else's bit of beach, and the sun is sinking. We need something called food, and probably water, and probably also a bathroom. It's like waking up from the most intense and exciting dream, and realizing that I still have to do practical, normal things— that I can't always live in that perfect space of me and him.
At dinner, I'm still smiling way more than normal, and so is he. And so are Arden and Wynnie, like they can sense our joy and it makes them happy, too.
While we're waiting for the food, Kieran puts his hand on my thigh under the table— just lightly rests it there, not even moving his fingers— and it causes these incredibly distracting sensations and thoughts. Eventually he has to move his hand away to eat his food, but I still feel the warmth of it for long minutes afterwards.
"So we'll stay, and see if Maureen returns while we're here," says Kieran. "Otherwise, we'll just have to hope she calls or emails us before we leave."
"What's the next move if she doesn't?" asks Arden.
"Then we have to start finding druids and asking them what they know," says Kieran. "We may need your help to track them down."
"I've been looking for Malcolm and June already," says Arden. "No sign of either of them. Of course I don't have much to go on, just your descriptions and their first names."
"We'll figure something out," he says. "We have to." And he looks at me, and I know what he's thinking. We have to, because we just found each other. We can't die, not now.
Arden strictly forbids me from transporting to Kieran's room that night. Like I would do such a thing. It's super tempting though, knowing that he's on the other side of the wall, all handsome and half-dressed on the bed. But I can't rush this. I rushed into things with Zane, before I really understood myself and what I wanted; and look how that ended.
Samhain Page 9