Concentric Circles (5 page)

The urge to protect her welled within him. He reached for her hand and made a point to draw her attention from her boot. “She talks to me quite frequently. You needn’t be afraid,” he added, caressing her new purple tattoo.

“Well, apparently it’s different for you,” she said in agitation.

“It was your first time. I suppose it would be a shock.” He paused and chewed his lip. A sudden realization of the action ended it abruptly.

Too soon to mirror habits
. He changed tactics. “Didn’t your mum ever explain things to you?”

A shocked expression washed over her face. “What do you mean? What does my
mom
have to do with any of this?” Her brows furrowed low over narrowed eyes as she waited in anticipation.

“Well,” he hesitated, pressed his back against the stones again, and then shrugged. “Mostly it’s passed down through families. That means you should’ve known.”

Obviously, that made her angry.

He watched as her face changed from shock to growing anger. One, two, three. Ah, there it was, the proverbial glare. “Shay—”

“My mom was orphaned at five! We don’t have any family other than each other. There’s no way she could’ve known about
any
of this.” Moisture welled in Shayla’s eyes and she reached to wipe it.

He took a shaking hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize, although that explains a lot.”

She pulled away, turning to look over the expansive lawn.

The new distance between them, wrenched him in a desperate, twisted separation. In a search for renewed closeness, he reached, touched her chin, and pulled it gently around to face him squarely. “You’re magical. Are you telling me you’ve never done something others couldn’t or wouldn’t understand?”

She stiffened under his touch. “I don’t practice magic. It’s just something written about in books.”

Through their new bonding, he forced himself not to feel her angry emotions. “Shay.”

“I’m twenty-four years old. Not a kid. I don’t do magic. Sure funky things happen sometimes, but that's not spells and casting,” she said, with eyes flashing.

He took a deep breath and held her gaze like an embrace.

She didn’t flinch or change her stance. He stood and began pacing the distance between the walls of the broken arch. His mind in a maelstrom, he mumbled, “Strong willed. Okay, maybe show, don’t tell. Damn.”

Shayla remained sitting on the step, knees tucked up under her chin, watching with apparent annoyance.

He continued to mutter and picked up speed. Pacing was something he started when he spent so much time with Black Bry, now this. For once, it was having no effect in helping to sort through everything.

“Frustrated?”

He ran his hand through his hair, not caring that it remained spiked in agitation. He stopped abruptly, studied her frown, and narrowed his eyes, calculating his decision. He took the plunge. “What if I showed you? Would you believe then?”

Skepticism flew across her face. He flinched at its potent power. “Well?” He pushed the issue, bracing for possible denial.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice grated like a fingernail down a chalkboard. “A card trick? Bouquet of flowers?”

His annoyance spiked at her sarcastic disbelief. He’d chosen this way and now had to follow it through. He shook his head vehemently, resisting the effects her emotions had on him.

Instead, he held her gaze tightly, and then looked around them. The Abbey grounds were empty. They were alone.

He pulled in a cleansing breath and released it, avoided her watchful countenance and pointed his index finger horizontal to the earth. He drew a circle around them, focusing on the proper incantation in his mind. It was done. He met and held her eyes.

Shayla quirked a brow and raised a shoulder.

Meekal swallowed his anxiety. “Don’t be afraid? Promise me you won’t be.”

Silence.

“Shayla. Promise. I won’t hurt you. No one can see because I just put a circle of obscurity and protection around us.”

“I can’t really promise if I don’t know how this will affect me—and everything.”

“It’s the only way. Are you ready? Just say the word.”

“Promise.” She glanced past him to the green lawns and broken abbey stones, and set her jaw. “Show me what you’ve got.”

He transformed.

Shayla gasped, and stood in shock.

At least she didn’t faint
. He could feel her trepidation as she stared down at his black cat persona.

She sat on the step hard, shaking visibly, her breathing ragged.

He approached her cautiously and rubbed against her leg. “Meow.” he blinked, waiting for a response.

“Kal?”

“Meow. It’s just me.”

She groaned and lay back on the thick grass. “Bloody hell.”

“Shay, are you all right?” He climbed up on her chest and nudged her chin with his paw.

She raised her head and looked at him lying on her chest.

He purred, trying to calm the racing heart that he felt beneath him.

“Damn, Meekal. How much is a person supposed to handle in one day with you? How is it I can understand what you say?”

“This ain’t all of it, love.” He transformed again and caressed her cheek, trying to soothe her in a human manner. “Shay.”

Her bubble of trepidation propelled itself up in the form of a gut wrenching sob. He felt its journey acutely.

“Shush.” He kissed her closed eyes and murmured against her cheek.

“It’s not right. You don’t understand. I've never understood just exactly who I am.”

He sighed and picked up a lock of her black-red hair. “Well,” he whispered. “If it’s any consolation, I tend to think you are Fae, maybe a little bit of witch mixed in.”

He licked at the salty moisture on her cheeks with the tip of his tongue.

“How can you tell?”

He braced himself up on his hands and gave her his most radiant smile. “Because Morna’s Fae.”

Lightning shot through them. Shayla sat up straight and pushed him off in rough anger. Her boot slipped in the grass as she tried to propel herself away. “Eugh! Are you saying we’re related?” she asked, voice croaking with shock.

Meekal laughed, enjoying the sensation.

She glowered.

He lay back and studied her beauty from a new angle. Nature surrounded her with a late October wind. Joined by the slanting sun, it teased her long tresses, drawing them to spread glistening strands outward, backed by the blue heaven above.

The sky called his attention; clouds skittered across in a race to be first to the east. Their journey mirrored the flowing motion of Shayla’s hair. He locked his hands behind his head, face falling into an easy, relaxed smile.

“Kal!” Shayla growled while trying to gather her curls into a ponytail.

He snickered. “Not cousins—unless you go back almost a thousand years. I know my family history that far back. No missing relatives.” He lifted his left shoulder casually. “So you don’t like the idea of kissing cousins?”

She rolled her eyes. “Never mind. How can you be sure? Fae?”

He reached over, letting his fingers lose their way amidst soft tresses. “I suppose you could be mostly witch. I just think that your hair is a direct link to the Fae. I recall reading about it once. It was their nimbus. A sure sign of being Fae. Well, at one time in history, anyway.”

Shayla drew in a breath and pulled her knees up, hugging them tightly. Her gaze traveled across the grounds of the ancient Abbey. A blush warmed her cheeks when her eyes went to their place on the stone wall. She reached up and wiped the moisture away from her face.

He moved closer, seeking renewed physical contact. He gave his voice its most soothing purr once more. “You love being outdoors and around animals, don’t you?”

She tucked her face down hiding behind a lock of falling hair, eyes on the ground.

“You feel whole when surrounded by nature.”

Her face fell to her knees, hiding embarrassment.

“Shayla,” he said in her ear. He wove his fingers into her hair and combed it aside to reveal her cheek.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Well in combination with being magical, talking to animals and the nimbus, I’d say that clinches it.”

“When I was in was in the fifth grade.” Her hands trembled; she clenched fingers in response, trying to steady them. “I froze Mrs. Moore. She was yelling at me because I took a book about faeries away from Phil Jonson. I got mad and froze her. I don’t remember how I got away with it—only that I did.”

A light of joy ignited his laughter. “I knew you couldn’t have gone this long with nothing happening. Mum home schooled me so she wouldn’t have to deal with teachers who miraculously had purple hair or frogs jumping out of their pockets.”

Shayla laughed, the corners of her mouth curling as she looked into his eyes, hers dancing. “I was always supposed to keep everything a secret. That’s actually only one instance. Mom’s going to have a cow when she finds out about you.”

Meekal cringed, feeling that ‘oops’ moment again. He brushed it aside for later and tried to be reassuring. “It’ll be all right, love.” He felt the jolt that traveled down her spine and bit his inner lip in response.
Wow, crazy
.

He came out of the thought, realizing her hand on his jaw invoked bliss. He leaned into her caress, relishing the feel of his stubble on her sensitive palm.

“Carry over trait?” she murmured, lips brushing his skin lightly.

“To a central point of wholeness. It’s who I am.”

“I think it’s wonderful. Kal-Kat.”

He turned slightly, and licked her with the tip of his tongue, sending fire through them both. “It’s getting late. We should go if we’re going to see the sunset from the Tor.” He took her hand in his and pulled her up. Amusement swirled in his gut, he hugged her close.

On a rush of spiraling air, he transported them to the top of St. Michael’s Tower on the Tor, facing west. “Don’t tell Mum I did that. She’ll have kittens.”

Shayla giggled. “How can no one see you when you do that?”

He shrugged, nonchalant. “A charm.”

A gasp popped up and Shayla clutched him tighter. “How?” She stared down at the empty air beneath them, and then waved her toe against nothing.

The urge to chuckle won out. “You didn’t think the tower had an upper floor, did you?”

“Never saw any pictures.” She backed up into his chest and gazed out the small gothic window. “Are we levitating?”

“Naw. I used to hang out up here when I was a kid. Harry and I figured out how to let the ley lines hold us up. Not the same as levitating.”

“Cool.”

“Humm. You could say that you’re standing on the St. Michael Line. Although many ley lines crisscross here on the Tor, St. Michael is the strongest and most predominant.”

“I remember reading something about that,” Shayla said, and pointed through the narrow window. “St. Michael’s Line. That means, well since it’s October 31, that mound where the sun is setting must be Burrowbridge Mump.”

“Aye. You do know a tad bit of history.”

“Just a tad.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and rested his jaw against the softness of her hair, just next her ear.
Perfect fit
. He sighed as a sensation of comfort and home surrounded him.

She leaned into him, increasing the feeling of belonging.

“Can you hear it?” he asked, rubbing his chin in her hair.

“What?”

“The sunset.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Shh. There’s still time. Focus on the sun’s orb, and then close your eyes. Let the earth’s song guide your inner vision to see the sunset. You’ve been attuned, so now you’ll hear it. The ancient Celts referred to the earth’s beautiful music as
Òran Mór
. No human has ever created anything to compare to it because it’s the combined synergy of every living creature, earth breath and ocean wave.”

She stilled, lashes resting against windswept cheeks. A slow lift at the corners of her mouth was the only indication she heard. Meekal allowed his heart to soar, meeting hers above the earth, joining in the song.

A gentle breath escaped her as the last curvature of the golden orb slipped past the horizon. Her stomach growled.

His laughter answered. “Let’s get some supper.”

A smile lit her face as she turned and leaned in for a brief kiss. “Sounds like a delicious idea. I’m famished.”

“Then so be it, but first,” he said backing up a step, and giving a slight bow. “May I have this dance?”

“Dance?”

“Aye. How did you expect to get down to earth?” He took a dancer’s stance, foot tapping the air, and hand waiting for her to step into his space in acceptance of his offer. “Shall it be a one, two, three waltz or a boogying swing dance?”

“One, two, three,” Shayla answered, entwining their fingers.

The Earth’s song carried them downward as they spun to the rhythm heard by few.

“Are you always this romantic?”

“Only for you, my love,” Meekal answered, as they stepped out of the Tower. He pulled his cell phone out and called Chaeli. “Hi, Mum. We’re going to get something to eat.”

“Did you see the sunset?”

He shook with silent laughter. “Aye, Mum. We saw the sunset from St. Michael’s Tower.” He winked at Shayla, and then enjoyed her giggle washing over him.

“Ah, we all know what a romantic you are. I’ll see you later.”

He flipped his phone closed and took her hand. “Let’s go to Harry’s Pub.”

“Harry has a pub?”

This time he shared laughter with the English countryside. “No. We just like to hang there. You’ll like it.” He gave her a secretive smile and tugged on her hand. “We’ll walk this time and it’ll take a little while to get down the side of the Tor.”

* * * * * *

They stepped into Harry’s Pub amidst flashing and spiraling red, white and blue lights. Shayla gasped, looking around in surprise.

Got cha
. Meekal greeted the hostess. “Hey, Lily. It’s just two tonight.”

Lily gave Shayla an appraising glance, picked up two menus and turned on her high heel. “Come this way then, Kal.”

They followed her to the back of the pub as classic American rock and roll infused the air.