Devil's Mountain (15 page)

“Those from the town avoid the Mountain. Surely, you know that.”

“Why? It’s beautiful here.”

“The townsfolk, even after all this time, fear the Mountain and the five families.”

“He married my aunt. She’s one of the five families.”

“That’s rare enough, believe me. Most of the five families marry each other or they leave for Dublin or over the pond to England.” He smiled. “Some brave souls even made it to America.”

I smiled back. “Are you telling me all the Kilvarren girls aren’t chasing you?”

“Hardly.”

I looked at him, his blue eyes so clear, so honest. “Then they’re fools. Their loss.”

He cupped my face in his hands and placed soft, warm lips on mine. I should’ve resisted, but it had been so long since I’d been kissed. I pulled him to me and his kisses became more urgent. I ran my fingers through his soft hair, so unlike Bobby’s unruly curls. He was shorter than Bobby, but strong. I melted into his arms and felt as though I belonged there. As though I was home.

We stumbled over to a clearing, without taking our hands off each other. I fell back onto the soft grass. Conor joined me on the ground.

We kissed, for hours it seemed. Though Conor roamed my body with his hands, they never reached below my clothes. But my hunger couldn’t be quenched by his lips. My skin was hot then, as if on fire. I tore off my thin t-shirt and shocked Conor further by wriggling out of my tight jeans.

His voice was hoarse. “Are you sure?”

Naked, I reached for his belt, and smiled. “I’m sure.”

* * * *

The sun was going down. I drowsed in Conor’s arms. “We have to go,” he whispered into my tangled hair.

“No. I don’t want to go back. I want to stay here forever.”

He laughed. “Me too, but if we don’t leave soon Margaret will call my parents looking for you. You have those little ones to get home to.”

The children. And Mary. My real life and responsibilities. For these few hours I’d left that all behind. To be with this beautiful kind boy. Not boy. Man. This beautiful man.

He helped me up, and as if we’d been married forever, we dressed before each other, no awkwardness, no shyness. He smoothed my hair. “You are beautiful, Caroline Connelly. Do you know that?”

I shook my head and looked away. “No. I’m not.”

He lifted my face to him. “Yes, you are, love. You are to me.”

If Margaret noticed I’d been gone a long time, she said nothing. But Mary, while she also didn’t mention my extended absence, looked at me a long time. Her eyes had a glimmer of recognition, of understanding, that had been missing since she’d had her breakdown. Her hypnotic bottle-green gaze bored through me. I looked away and tended to the children.

For whatever reason, both Mary and I were changed after that day. She awakened from her drug-induced slumber and came back to her usual kind and sweet self. She doted on the children, baked tarts and lovingly cooked us big dinners. She even spent time alone with me in her garden while the children napped, and taught me the names of all the herbs and flowers. And when I left in the late afternoons for my walks, she said nothing.

Margaret still came to stay with the children. Mary seemed better, but I didn’t want to leave her alone with the children. I told her I didn’t want to tire her out. She didn’t protest. When Margaret came she would retire to her room or work out in the garden.

So every day I spent with Mary and the children, in her magical garden. We sang songs, we laughed in the sun. And in the evenings, Conor and I would wander down to the river banks and lose ourselves in each other’s arms.

Every day it was as if I was in a wonderful dream. Days turned into weeks, and I honestly had never been so happy. Not even during the short years of my marriage, that now suddenly seemed like a fuzzy, distant memory. It was perfect. Everything was perfect.

Until I missed my period.

Chapter 17

Mary

That young one thinks I’m a fool. As if I and the rest of the Mountain don’t know what she’s up to. Now that I’ve stopped the pills, although I’m sure to flush the correct dosage down the toilet since I know Caroline’s keeping track, I’m not so easy to fool. A blind man could see what’s going on with those two. But she’s distracted and the young Griffin lad keeps her busy and away from His side of the Mountain, so I say nothing. Besides, it wouldn’t be for me to say.

I’m not her mother.

Every day she’s happy and distracted is another day I can spend with my beautiful grandchildren. Kathy, my sweet Kathy, now lights up whenever I enter the room. She is the image of my mother. God help her, she’s a Devlin woman through and through. And Aidan, I can see a whisper of Bobby in his sweet smile. I’m going to enjoy every minute I have with them as much as I can. They’ll be gone soon enough. And once they go I will make sure they never come back.

I won’t think about that now.

Caroline dressed the children in their best, and she also looked well in a new light pink dress she purchased from Nolan’s Dress Shop. A bit young for her I’d say, but she didn’t ask my opinion. She looked good. Good for her, anyway. Now, I’m being unkind. She looked better than she had in a long time. Better than when she first arrived. She no longer had those hollows in her cheeks and her eyes didn’t look so sad. She was suffering, I’m sure. Despite her role in Bobby’s death, her unknowing role to be fair, she had suffered.

She loved Bobby, or at least thought she did. How much was real love and how much was His doing, I suppose we’ll never know. I suspected it was more of the latter than the former.

Still, no one deserves to lose their husband. Not even Nellie Collins’s daughter.

Who am I to deny her this scrap of happiness? It will be gone soon enough.

Dot Collins’s children were throwing a surprise do for Dot and Tim for their anniversary.

It was nice of the cousins to include Caroline and the children. They asked me to go, but I said no. I didn’t want to have all those Collinses feel the need to talk to me, and make a fuss of me when I knew they’d prefer I’d stayed at home.
On the Mountain
, they’d think,
where I belonged
.

No, I wouldn’t go, though it was nice of them to ask me all the same. I would be busy.

I’d received His call.

He hadn’t called me to Him in months, so after I waved them off, I went to my room. I drank my tea and then dressed in a white sheath and my mother’s shoes. I braided my hair with primrose blossoms from the garden. I carried the red wool robe on my arm due to the heat. I was ready for Him.

A cool wind blew across the Mountain, loosening some of the flowers in my hair. My stomach churned its familiar bile, part fear, part anticipation. “Only another Devlin woman,” my mother had said to me, “can really understand how much you can love and hate someone at the same time. You will hate Him, my love, for all He’s going to do to you. For all He has taken away. But you will love Him too. God help you, you will love Him too.”

And I have. I do. When He doesn’t call me to Him, when He’s away with His own kind, I am incomplete, somehow. He is a monster. Whatever He is, that much is true. But that is not all He is.

Every time I made this journey through the woods, I’d always pray this would be the time where He’d only love me. Sometimes my prayers were answered. More often they were not.

He knew I was coming. He sent His rook to guide me. Protect me. Its black feathers glistened in the weakening sun. I saluted the rook, as was the custom, and it might’ve been my imagination, but I sensed him salute back.

On the high rock was laid out a feast of roasted meats and mead. My lord was happy with me, so. The tension in my shoulders left me. A wind blew from the mouth of the cave, scattering more of the primrose blossoms from my hair. A slight mist was emitted from the cave, tinged with ash. And then
Slanaitheoir
, as a man, in His golden tunic appeared by my side.

“My love. Thank you for coming.”

I bowed deeply. “Of course, my lord. It is my duty to come when you call.”

“Oh, but I have called you these past weeks, and you have not answered.” He took my hand, raising me up. “Fear not, my love, I know it is not your fault. Your family fills you with that poison. You were right to cleanse it from your system.”

“I am sorry,” I said, fear spreading though my bowels. “I did not mean to disobey you.”

He kissed my cheek. “I am not angry, my love. Come. Eat.”

And eat I did.
Slanaitheoir
joined me, even cutting my meat for me like a child. He filled my glass. He wiped my mouth with His silken napkin.

We spoke of music. Of art. He read me a poem he had written. He made me laugh, oh, how he made me laugh. I felt cherished, loved.

We moved to the mouth of the cave where he had spread out our bed. I shivered with anticipation rather than fear when he removed my sheath. My forest lover who had been missing for so long had returned to me.

His clothes fell from him, leaving him naked. His golden skin glowed in the dappled moonlight. He kissed me, His lips burning mine. He loosened my braid, scattering the blossoms to the ground.

At His touch, my breast grew firm and plump, my nipples tingled. He bent His head and took my swollen nipple in His mouth. The contact with His unearthly mouth burned, caused me to cry out. I arched against him as I held His silken black locks in my fingers.

He traveled the length of my body with his tongue, and with each hot wet touch, my flesh became firm. Became young. I felt hot, vibrant beauty seep from my very pores. He’d made me a beauty once again. He’d made me His.

Slanaitheoir
pushed me gently onto our bed of fur and continued to explore my body with His long, hot tongue. I arched against Him as I came forth, cries bursting from my lips and echoing into the mouth of the cave.

“No,” he rasped, his voice harsh with lust, “not yet.”

But it had been months since He had lain with me, and years since He had been so tender.

I couldn’t control the ripples of pleasure that tore at my body. He spread my legs wide, and with His hot flesh, took me. Possessed me. As He always did, whether through pleasure or pain. He burned me, melting into my very soul.

I wrapped my legs around Him, and begged Him to fill me. To go deeper. For the first time in all our years together He listened to me. His rhythmic thrusts brought me to the brink.

“Come on, my love. Come with me,” He commanded.

I felt myself crest and He panted above me.

I shuddered as He filled me. We were one. For the first time, we were one.

He stroked my matted hair as I fell asleep. Later when I woke, the moon was high, its light spilling through the trees.

He smiled. “I am very pleased with you.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I said, my voice rough from sleep and emotion.

He touched my cheek. “I will miss you. I didn’t think I would, since you have displeased me so often. But I do believe I will miss you.”

I sat up, my skin suddenly clammy and cold. “Why? Where am I going?”

“It is your time, my love. You must know that.”

“Who will take my place? There is no one to take my place.”

“Of course there is. Young Kathy.”

“But she’s too young. And she’s going home to America soon.”

“She’s going nowhere.”

“Yes, she is.”

His smile evaporated, his green eyes filled with thunder. “No, she is not. They are staying on the Mountain.”

“You must be mad. Why on earth would Caroline stay here?” I asked with a bravado I didn’t feel.

“To stay with her beloved. To give him a child.”

“No! She can’t have children.”

“She’s had two. Why not a third? Twins run in the Collins family. It might even be two.”

“You’re lying,” I said without much conviction.

“You know I am not. In fact she’s telling the happy father as we speak. I expect she’ll make the announcement in the next day or so. After they go to Killarney to buy the ring. They’ll have lovely babas.” He kissed my cheek. “It’s a shame you won’t be around to see them.”

My throat constricted and I could barely get the words out. “How long? How long do I have?’

The glint returned to his terrible eyes. He pulled me to him and kissed me, his sharp teeth tearing at my lips. I pushed him away. My blood dotted his chin.

“Not long, my love. Not long.”

Chapter 18

Caroline

Conor and I found Margaret and Aidan asleep on the couch.

“Wake up, sleepy,” Conor said, playfully punching his sister’s arm. “We have news.”

My shiny new engagement ring sparkled on my left hand. The diamond wasn’t half the size of my ring from Bobby, but it was the largest they’d had in the small jewelry shop and much more, I knew, than Conor could afford. It was pretty. I didn’t care about the size. It made me feel young and alive, that I wasn’t destined to spend my life as a hollowed out wreck. As if I was a woman, a good woman, who deserved happiness and love.

The girl opened one eye and then went back to sleep. I shook Aidan, but he barely moved. This was not a normal late afternoon nap on the couch. Something wasn’t right.

“Mary!” I shouted. “Mary!”

I searched her room, the garden. She was nowhere to be found. And neither was Kathy.

I tried to rouse Margaret and Aidan while Conor called his parents. Within minutes, his father’s ramshackle truck skidded onto Mary’s gravel driveway.

Seamus and Bridget hadn’t seen Mary, although when Seamus asked the children, one of the younger boys thought he’d seen Mary pushing Kathy in her stroller. The boy thought it was funny because, despite the heat of the day, Mary had been wearing her long red cape.

Conor grabbed my hand. “Come on, I know where they are.”

“No,” Bridget called out. “You’re not to go there.”

“I have to, Mam.”

She held onto Conor’s arm. “No. Seamus, tell him. He can’t go there.”

Seamus looked at my hand. “He’s a grown man, and he’s mixed up with this crowd anyway.”

“No! I forbid you to go!” she screamed.

I looked at quiet, timid Bridget freaking out and losing her mind, and suddenly I was scared. Terrified for my daughter.