Samhain

by Rebecca F. Kenney

  "Sorry," I say, righting myself. "That was sloppy."

  "Wait!" he says, his eyes sparkling. "Can you take us back? I'd love to play with them a little. Just take us to the forest, near the clearing."

  After we just escaped with our lives? But he looks so mischievously excited I can't resist. "Just a short game, Far Darrig," I whisper.

  I flash us to a space in the trees. Through the tall, dark trunks, we can still see the stone circle, and the people, and the torches. They're all moving forward now, kneeling and bowing as Malcolm recites some kind of druidic prayer. I suppose he's secured their loyalty and their fear as well. Plain and harmless as he looks, he's good at what he's doing— maybe even a better leader than Stanley was.

  In the glimmer of the torchlight that reaches us through the trees, I see Kieran's teeth flash as he smiles. "Watch this."

  He uses his own voice, but he throws it so it sounds as if it's coming from right next to Malcolm. His words ring out over the doleful chant.

  "Weak and whimpering, Malcolm, really? Is that how you remember me?"

  Malcolm jumps so hard he stumbles against the altar, and his arm goes elbow deep into the bloody entrails behind him. "Who said that?" he yells.

  Kieran's voice comes from Malcom's other side next— clear as a bell, smooth and silky. "I really miss seeing you around. How have you been?"

  Whispers are running through the crowd of druids. They're already jumpy and fearful, after Malcolm poisoned the doubters— and Kieran is only making it worse.

  Kieran speaks again, a soft whisper I can't distinguish from this distance, and a woman in the crowd startles and screams. Another murmur, from the crowd at the other side of the stone ring, and more screams. I watch Kieran as he works, expertly crafting panic. His lips barely move and he's grinning like a devil, eyes alight.

  Suddenly his laughter echoes all around the circle, loud and mocking, bouncing from stone to stone.

  "Quiet! Calm down!" shrieks Malcolm over the shrill, panicked voices of the crowd. "It's just a trick. Some of you go and find him! He's here somewhere!"

  "Somewhere? Here," echoes Kieran's voice. Then from a different spot, "And here. And also here. My friends, the Far Darrig is everywhere." Then again, from right beside Malcolm, in a maniacal shout, "See you all in your dreams tonight!"

  "Find him!" Malcolm roars.

  Feet are pounding across the clearing, crunching into the trees near us.

  "Now," says Kieran, and I take us back to the car.

  He collapses against it, laughing. "Best thing I've done in a long time. Come on, you know that was fun!"

  I'm laughing too; I can't help it. "You're insane. And you just about caused a druid stampede."

  "I did. And you—" He seizes my face and kisses me hard, in a frenzy. "Aislinn, you beautiful goddess! Your idea, bringing us to the circle— it was priceless. That was exactly the kind of information we need!"

  He opens the car door for me with a flourish, then slides into the driver's seat. "This was a good night. It couldn't have gone better if we had planned all that."

  He's right. It was too perfect. Why did that image of the stone circle come into my head when it did? Why couldn't I shake it? It's almost as if someone put the thought in my brain on purpose. But who has the power to do such a thing?

  As we drive back along the narrow road, I ask, "Kieran, are there any Fae who can put thoughts in your mind?"

  He looks confused. "Why?"

  "Before I transported us out of the cave, I planned to come straight to the car. But something— or someone— put the picture of that stone circle into my mind. I couldn't get it out of my head, so that's where we went."

  "I've heard of the Lianhan Sídhe putting thoughts in people's minds, but they're generally the X-rated variety," he says. "I don't know of any other Fae who can do something like that. But you're right, it seems as if someone wanted us to be there, to hear all that."

  Suddenly I remember crouching in the dark, asking the Fates to protect me from the eyes of the dullahan.

  "You don't suppose it could be one of the Fates, do you?"

  He frowns. "Why would they help us? They want us both dead."

  "Maybe not," I say. "Maybe they're trying to find a way around their own rules. Or maybe one of them is rooting for us, helping out a little."

  "It's possible, I guess. They would have the knowledge and the magic to do it."

  "But which one would be willing to help like that?" I ask, excited by the idea. "My money's on Macha, the youngest. She seems nice."

  "I'd guess Badb," he says. "She has a direct connection to the banshees— so she would have been the first to know about the human sacrifice and the murders tonight."

  His reasoning sounds much better than mine. "You're probably right. I wonder how we can thank them."

  "It's better not to mention it. The one who helped us probably did so without the others knowing."

  I sigh. "Fine. But eventually I'm going to figure out who it was and thank her."

  He glances at me and grins. "How?"

  "Just a thank you, I guess. How else?"

  "In the old days, there would be a sacrifice involved, or expensive gifts of some kind."

  "Ew, no sacrifices. Did you hear the sounds they made when— ugh." I shudder just thinking about it.

  "Try to forget it," he says.

  "I can't."

  "Why don't I distract you?"

  I lean back in my seat. "How? You're driving."

  Instead of answering, he lays his hand on my thigh again, like he did that night at the restaurant. Only this time, instead of keeping it still, he moves it gently up and down my leg, from my knee to my hip. It's like a kind of slow, delicious torture.

  "You're pure evil, you know that?" I say.

  He chuckles.

  We're well away from the forest now, following a long dark road that will take us back to the main road and then home.

  "Pull over," I say suddenly.

  "What?"

  "You heard me."

  The Audi glides onto a grass shoulder, and he turns off the car, and the lights. We're just sitting in the dark, in the quiet.

  "What are we doing?" he asks.

  "Checking an item off my bucket list," I say. "I've never made out with a guy in a parked car before."

  "I like your bucket list," he says, moving his seat back and leaning over to me. "What else is on it?"

  "Things," I say breathlessly. "Traveling, going to college, and just— other things."

  "Things," he repeats, his lips hovering just above mine. It's torture, again. Just kiss me already. But when I move an inch forward, he moves back just a little, keeping me at bay. His breath and mine mingle in the still air of the car.

  And then he kisses me, an explosion of warmth and magic and sensations I've never felt before.

  We kiss, and we kiss again, and I lose time. And space. And maybe my soul leaves my body for a while and goes straight to heaven.

  Finally, he pulls back, breathing hard. "We should stop."

  "Why?" I'm nowhere near ready to stop.

  "You're too beautiful." He starts the car, and a glance at the clock tells me we've been in here for half an hour.

  "Whatever. You're the one who looks like an angel. Or maybe the devil, if the devil's hot as hell."

  "If I were the devil, you can bet I wouldn't be stopping this little session of ours."

  "Maybe I like the devil part of you. I think I always have." I'm blushing as I say it, but it's true.

  His voice, smooth and sinful. "When you're ready for me to let him out, just let me know."

  Yes please.

  But in my heart I want to wait, even if my body doesn't. We just started this thing. No need to rush it.

  Even if all I want to do is tear the clothes off him and throw myself at his mercy.

  No. I'm going to make myself wait until I'm sure this is real for both of us. I almost rushed into it with Zane; this time I'm going to be real
ly sure.

  But I do have questions. And a long car ride, with the darkness to hide my blushes, is the perfect opportunity.

  "Eventually, when we— move on to other things— do we— do we even need protection? Can you—"

  "Of course I can. Remember— I'm not a vampire."

  "I know. But in some stories, even vampires can get girls pregnant."

  "But they're dead. That makes no sense."

  "It really doesn't."

  "Human birth control isn't necessary," he says. "There's a spell that I use, passed down from my father. It has always worked well for me."

  Wow. A birth control spell. That will definitely make life easier. "Did you and Etain have children?"

  "No. We planned to, but then everything happened."

  In his face, I see a long-ago pain that I can't fully understand. I wait quietly.

  "So to answer your question, we could have children," he says.

  Was that my question? I didn't exactly ask about that. In fact, the thought of purposely having children never crossed my mind. I've gotten the message loud and clear that an unplanned pregnancy is something I don't want; but it suddenly registers that having kids will eventually be a good thing.

  And now something deep inside me, an instinct as old as nature itself, wakes up, and I have the weirdest urge to have babies— his babies in particular. Not now. Maybe not even in the next century— but someday, for sure.

  "What would they even be?" I whisper.

  "Tuatha Dé Danann, with human and druid blood. I don't know about the powers, if any of those would transfer."

  "What about the Korrigan curse?"

  "It was designed for Maeve and her women— and obviously it transferred to Wynnie and to you— but I don't know about a third generation, or male offspring." He sighs. "You know I would undo it if I could."

  "I know."

  In the darkness, we talk more. He tells me about some of the women he has known— there weren't as many as he first led me to believe. He talks about them carefully, like he's concerned for my feelings; but I don't feel jealous of them. I'm grateful they were there for him, at a time when I didn't even exist. He deserved to have some comfort in his long, lonely life.

  We talk of other things, too— wars he's seen, and empires, and tragedies, and discoveries. He was always on the fringes of things, not right in the center of the action. And he tells me that he never got involved in any of the wars.

  "Human messes," he says. "So much pain, over so many centuries. It's easier if you practice not caring."

  "What about doing some good? Making a difference?"

  "I tried, a few times. Knock down one sick bastard, and another ten are waiting to take his place."

  Suddenly I see our near-immortality in a new light. "You know, you and I could do some good in the world—help people."

  "Maybe," he says. "For you, I might be willing to try again. At least until you realize it's useless and you become jaded like me." He laughs when he says it, but it's a hollow sound.

  "Kieran, you're not nearly as jaded as you think. You have this zest for life that's amazing, considering how long you've lived. I love being around you."

  "Really? Once upon a time that wasn't so true."

  "That was when you were being a jerk."

  "And what am I now?"

  At first I think there's no word to describe him, what he means to me. And then I remember what he called me, when I discovered him alive in a cell in the druids' dungeon. When I went to pieces on the floor, and he held me.

  "Cuisle mo chroidhe," I say quietly. The beat of my heart.

  I hear him draw in a breath quickly, but he doesn't speak. He just reaches over and takes my hand in his, grips it so that I know what my words meant to him.

  13

  WARRIOR

  Zane

  Aislinn texts me Friday morning. "When are you getting into town?"

  "Around 3."

  Her texts come in a rapid string of short sentences. "Can you take Wynnie to therapy at four? Arden is out of town for the day, and I don't have my license yet. Wynnie won't go in a taxi with a strange driver. Won't go with Kieran either, but she might with you. I've got to get some cleaning done."

  My ex, asking me for a favor. I know she tries not to, but in Wynnie's case, things are different. Wynnie just can't handle strangers.

  I kinda don't mind doing this, so I text back. "Sure."

  "Lifesaver," Aislinn replies.

  I've been a literal lifesaver before, back at the druid dungeon, when all that crap went down. As weird and scary as it was, it felt good. Made me feel even more strongly about becoming a cop after I graduate.

  We're getting into heavier stuff in my classes now, and I'm starting to see how even these basic courses might apply to my real life someday. I still question why I need to know some of the stuff; but it's looking more relevant, so I don't feel like I'm wasting my time and my money.

  When I get into town Friday afternoon, I stop by home first and say quick hellos to everyone. Then I drive to Aislinn's apartment and go up the steps to the second floor and knock.

  Wynnie opens the door. There's music blaring from inside.

  "Aislinn is cleaning the bathroom," she says, like that explains the music. "It was gross."

  "Okay."

  "You want to say hi?"

  "Nah, I'll see her later at dinner. You ready?"

  She narrows her eyes and looks at me carefully; and I just know she's going to ask Aislinn to come, too. She won't trust me to drive her alone.

  But then she says, "Yes, I'm ready." And she walks past me out the door.

  "So where's the therapy place?" I ask.

  "I have the address." She holds out a smartphone. "In here."

  "You got a phone. Nice. You learning how to use it?"

  "Not really."

  "Oh. Okay. Well, let me just check on the address." The phone isn't locked, so I can easily look up the route. It's a suite in a building on the other side of town. "Got it. Let's go."

  At first, she doesn't talk at all. I put on some rap music, but then I start noticing the words and what the guy is really saying, and it doesn't seem fun anymore, just kind of inappropriate and maybe rude to women and especially not great for Wynnie to hear. So I switch the station to some classical crap, thinking maybe she'll like it. She doesn't react.

  "So, this therapist— how's that working out?"

  "This is my first session."

  "Oh, right. Are you nervous?"

  "A little. The therapist is a selkie, so I'll be able to talk to her about everything. The druids, and the Korrigan thing— all of it."

  "That's really good."

  "How are you?" she asks. Her voice is stiff and she doesn't look at me, but it's cool because it's the first time she's actually asked me a question about myself or my life.

  "I'm good. You know, college is brutal, but I'm getting into the groove, you know, finding my way. My family misses me though. That's why I'm back for the weekend."

  "You have sisters?"

  "Yeah, one married and one still at home."

  "Your parents, they're together? Healthy?"

  I'm not sure where she's going with this. "Yeah."

  "You've had a good life."

  "So everyone tells me."

  "You think college is— brutal." She looks at me sharply. "What's brutal about it?"

  Oh, no.

  "No, I just meant it's an adjustment. I mean, you've been through way worse than I can ever— I'm sorry you had to deal with— all of that."

  She nods once.

  "You seem a little better though," I say. "Like you're working through it. You're not scared of me, right, so that's good."

  "I will never work through it," she says. "But I see who you are now. And you're someone who helps, not someone who hurts. The sight of you doesn't make me want to scream anymore."

  "Gee, thanks."

  "You don't understand. For decades, every time a man pass
ed through my cell door, it was to rape me or torture me or chain me up for my transformation. Every single one of them brought pain and humiliation. So whenever I saw you, or Kieran, I just couldn't stand to be near you guys."

  Damn. I did not want to get into this. What do I do? I feel like I should apologize for my entire gender and then go hunt down the rest of those druid creeps. Maybe cut off their privates or something. Makes me mad that a group of men could behave that way to a woman.

  "I wish we had known you were there," I say. "We would have come to help you."

  "You didn't even know me."

  "No, but that's who we are. Who I am, anyway. I help people."

  "It's a dangerous habit. You're bound to get hurt."

  "Already have."

  "You mean Aislinn. You two were together; she told me."

  "Yeah, we were. It was awesome, and then you-know-who comes along, and wrecks it."

  "The Far Darrig. Yes, I watched them, at the beach— they are very much in love."

  I don't want to hear about it, so I say, "To be fair, Aislinn and I broke up for other reasons, not just him. I mean he was a big reason, but there were other things. Like she's going to stay young forever, and I won't. And I wasn't ready for all the magic stuff, you know? It kinda scares me."

  "Scares you?" Out of the corner of my eye, I see her head turn toward me. "I thought nothing scared you."

  I laugh. "Girl, you don't know me very well."

  "No, I don't."

  She goes quiet for a few minutes, so I say, "Hey, what about you? Did you know your parents? Aislinn never did."

  "My father was Japanese-American," she says. " A businessman. He traveled a lot, and I only saw him a few times before he grew old and died. My mother, as you know, was Korrigan. She killed herself when I was 102."

  It's way weird to hear her say that. And she spent decades with the druids, so she's well over a hundred years old, maybe more.

  "After she died, that's when I gave up. I fought with Maeve all the time. I did drugs, I drank so much— it's a wonder my liver didn't give out."

  We're pulling into the parking lot of the office building where the therapist is, but I want her to keep going. She's telling me deep stuff that she's probably only told Aislinn and Arden. What is it about me that makes girls want to tell me their secrets?