Night School (14 page)

22

“Wake up, sleepyhead. We’re going to land in a few minutes.” I yawn and stretch my arms over my head, reluctantly opening my eyes. I smile as they fall on Jareth, who’s kneeling above me on the private plane’s cushy, velvet-covered bed (I so don’t sleep in coffins!), looking down at me with his beautiful, loving eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asks, handing me a squeeze bottle of Blood Synthetic. “You slept like the dead.”

“Stands to figure, since I’m a vampire and all,” I tease.

He grins. “That’s my Rayne.”

He lies down beside me and takes me into his arms, pulling me into a comfortable embrace, his body pressed against mine. I deeply breathe in his rich, dark scent. I’ve missed him so much. My heart feels as if it might literally explode with love.

He strokes my back, his gentle hands running over my feathery wings, which have grown almost to full size. Luckily they also tuck in very well and with my shirt on, you can’t really notice them.

“I was so worried,” he whispers, his mouth brushing up against my ear. His toes intertwine with mine. He nuzzles my cheek, as if he’s still checking to see if I’m really here, in the flesh. “When Rachel called and said you were in danger, I almost died.”

“It’s a good thing I’m such a kick-ass, don’t-need-a-guy-to-rescue-me type of girl, huh?” I tease, but at the same time I can feel the tears well up into my eyes. The fact that he put everything on pause, just for me, is beyond wonderful. For all our past fights and difficulties, he loves me. More than anything in the world. And I need to appreciate that with all my heart.

Because I feel the same way about him.

The moments spent with Corbin now seem a pale imitation, a parody of romance on the weakest level. A mere lusty need, not a deep, mature love like I have with Jareth. The thought now of Corbin’s lips on mine only serves to make me sick. I wish I had never touched the guy. I wish I could forget it ever happened. I wish I had never drunk anything but the synthetic as long as I lived. Then I wouldn’t know how the other stuff can be.

I let out an involuntary sob.

“Don’t worry, my dearest,” Jareth murmurs, misunderstanding my tears and wiping them away with a gentle thumb. “We’ll find Sunny. And she’ll be fine. She’s their queen, after all. Hell, she’s probably being treated like royalty right about now. All the nectar she can drink.”

“But she doesn’t want that,” I remind him, grateful to switch topics. “Sunny just wants to be human.”

“I know,” Jareth says, planting a fond kiss on my forehead. “And that’s why we’re going to get her back. We’ll bring her back to the Blood Coven and all four of us can live happily ever after.”

“Mmm,” I say dreamily. “That sounds amazing.” I tangle myself deeper into his arms. “Happily ever after for everyone,” I murmur as I plant my lips on Jareth’s and we begin to kiss.

“Ahem.”

The sound of a clearing throat causes us to break away. I look up. Corbin’s standing at the door, looking really uncomfortable. He shifts from foot to foot. Instinctively, I put a little space between Jareth and myself. “What’s up?” I ask.

“Sorry,” he stammers. “Magnus told me to tell you to buckle up for landing. We’ll be on the ground in six minutes.” He turns quickly and walks away.

I glance guiltily over at Jareth, who’s looking at me with worried eyes. “I’m really not sure it was the best decision to bring him along,” he says in a low voice. “He has much anger inside of him. And for good reason, too.”

I hang my head and grab the blood substitute, taking a swig. Yuck. This stuff is disgusting. How have I been drinking it for so long?

“I know,” I say. “I feel terrible about what I did to him.”

“He’s also got a lot of power and training,” Jareth adds. “He could be dangerous.”

“No.” I shake my head stubbornly. “He’s a good guy. I swear. He’s just hurt because of the whole blood thing. He thinks he’s in love with me.”

“Oh Rayne,” Jareth says with a deep sigh. “How do you always manage to get yourself into these kinds of situations?”

I shrug, grinning impishly at him. “Just lucky, I guess. Just like you’re lucky to have me!”

He laughs and grabs me, playfully wrestling me into submission. “Am I?” he asks, tickling my ribs. I squeal and giggle in protest. “Am I lucky to have you?”

“YES!” I cry. “Now stop! We’ve got to follow FAA regulations and buckle up for safety. Seatbacks and tray tables and all that.”

He snorts and stops tickling me. “Oh fine,” he says in a mock huff. “Be that way!” Jumping off the bed, we head into the main cabin to take our seats for landing. As we descend, I glance out the window at the expanse of green below me.

“Don’t worry, Sunny,” I whisper, dragging a finger down the glass. “We’re coming. We’re going to save you. No matter what.”

We land at a small airport, outside a little town called Donegal, which is complete with requisite ancient castle, lively pubs, and quaint shops. Because the sun is just coming over the horizon, we’re forced to stop for the day at a little bed-and-breakfast in the center of town so the vampires can get their sleep on. Even Jareth, who technically can go out in the sun, decides to take a little nap. He’s been trying to get back on schedule with his fellow vamps now that he’s co-master of the coven.

I, however, having slept on the plane, am restless. Pacing the room until Jareth finally suggests I go out and explore, so he can get some sleep. I acquiesce and head out to the local pub to see if I can find out some information about Tír na nÓg, the fairy land my parents came from.

I decide to try a place called the Olde Castle Bar, which is predictably across from the castle itself. The place looks ancient from the outside, with rough stone walls right out of medieval times, but inside it’s cozy and cheery, with simple furniture and wall hangings. I pull up to the bar and order a pint, giving the young bartender, who can’t be more than my age, a wide smile.

“You here on holiday, are you?” he asks in an endearing, thick Northern Irish accent as he hands me a frothy pint glass in exchange for my coins.

“Not exactly,” I say, taking a sip. Ugh. I forgot they serve ale at room temperature in these parts. “Actually, it’s more like a quest.”

“A quest, eh?” he repeats with a laugh. “You’ve come to see the fairies, then?”

I raise my eyebrows. “You know about fairies?”

“Sure I do,” he says with an amused gleam in his eye. “Ireland’s a magical place after all. And we have our fair share of the fair folk, for good or ill. Every night we leave milk and honey out for them, so they don’t cause mischief.” He glances around at the older patrons in the bar. “We’ve got mischief to spare as it is at the Olde Castle Bar.”

I slump in my seat, suddenly realizing he’s just teasing me. What was I thinking? “Have you heard of the island of Tír na nÓg?” I ask, changing tactics. “We’re trying to get there.”

This time the bartender just breaks out into a loud guffaw. “You’ll be trying a long time, lass,” he says. “Seeing as it doesn’t exist.”

I do a double take. “Wait, what?”

He shakes his head patronizingly. “It is an isle of legends, but appears on no map you’ll find. And you’ll only get lost if you try searching the sea.” He offers me a sympathetic smile. “Why not give up your quest for fairies?” he suggests. “There’s a lot more to see in Donegal, after all. We’ve got fabulous views from the craggy cliffs, and castle tours start daily at ten.” He grins. “Of course, you’re always welcome to while your hours away here at the pub. The fairies know we need the coin to keep them in their milk and honey.”

I scowl and am about to thank him for his time and leave when an old woman interjects into the conversation. “Now, now, Collin,” she scolds. “You’ll be talking a girl’s ear off if she gives you half a chance.” I turn to my right to see the craggy-faced, white-haired little woman who has sidled up beside me at the bar. She smiles at me and I realize she’s missing more than a few of her teeth. “Come sit beside me, dear, and drink your pint,” she urges, “I get lonely taking tea by meself and I promise I won’t blather on like Collin about our local tourist attractions.”

At first, I’m not sure, but something about her hopeful smile compels me to nod in agreement. I follow her to a booth at the very back of the pub, away from all of the other diners, and settle down onto a hard wooden bench.

I turn to the woman and am surprised to see that suddenly her whole manner has changed. Her once-smiling eyes are now piercing and her mouth is set into a firm, scolding line. “Now, how about you tell me,” she says in a steely voice that’s suddenly not even the slightest bit crackly, “why a mischievous Sidhe like yourself would try to trick a simple bartender?”

I stare at her, wide-eyed. “Wh-what?” I ask, shocked beyond belief. How does she know I’m Sidhe? Is she a fairy herself? I suddenly realize I’m shaking with fear.

“I can assure you, Collin is a very sweet boy. And he does his duty well. I’ll not have you try to trick him into breaking the rules, just to test his will.”

“But ... I wasn’t ... I’m not ... I wouldn’t trick him,” I stammer. “I really am trying to find Tír na nÓg. I’ve never been there before and I’m desperate to reach it as soon as possible.”

The woman looks at me incredulously. “But how can you say that?” she demands. “I’ve seen you there myself. On the throne, on your coronation day.”

My mouth drops open. Of course! “You mean, you saw ... oh my God.” I swallow hard, my whole body buzzing with excitement. “You saw Sunny!”

“Yes, Sunny,” the woman agrees. “But you are Sunny! You think I wouldn’t recognize you, just because you colored your hair? Give me a little credit here!”

“No, no—you don’t understand! I’m her sister. Her twin sister. And I’ve been trying desperately to find her. Please,” I say, entreating the woman with my best pleading gaze. “Can you help me? Can you help my friends and me find Tír na nÓg?”

“Well, of course I can!” The woman smiles a big toothless grin. “I wouldn’t be a very good fairy godmother if I couldn’t, now would I?”

23

“Eairy godmother?” I repeat in disbelief. “You’re a freaking fairy godmother?”

“Of course,” she says, looking a bit offended. “Don’t you recognize one when you see them? We’re the only Sidhe who look like old ladies, after all.”

I shrug. “I’ve never seen a real Sidhe of any sort. I mean, besides my own family, I guess, and we just look plain old human. What do normal Sidhe look like?”

“Young, beautiful, thin, tall, blond, perfect figures.” She sighs miserably. “You know, your typical Disney princess type plus wings. It really is completely unfair.”

“Wow. So how come Sunny and I aren’t like that?”

“Probably because you didn’t grow up in fairyland. After all, they don’t call it Tír na nÓg for nothing, you know.”

“Oh yeah. That’s right.” I remember reading that in my studies somewhere. Tír na nÓg means “place of eternal youth and beauty” or something like that.

“Once you step foot in Tír na nÓg, you’ll never grow old,” she says in a sing-songy voice. “Well, unless you’re destined to become a fairy godmother, that is.” She scowls. “Thank you very much, Walt Disney.”

“Wait, what?”

She shakes her head in disgust. “Once upon a time, we fairy godmothers were just as young and beautiful as the other Sidhe,” she informs me. “But then Disney comes along and creates movies like
Cinderella
. Now everyone expects their fairy godmother to be a plump old lady with no fashion sense. It’s ridiculous.” She sighs. “Our union tried to lobby the powers-that-be for a while. We even launched a full-on PR campaign to prove to people that fairy godmothers can come in all shapes and sizes. But no one bought it.”

“No?”

“Let’s be realistic here. You descend down into someone’s bedroom window as a fat old lady with a magic wand offering to make that person’s wish come true, you’re a welcomed guest. You show up as a young, hot debutante in slinky silk Armani and they’re on the phone with the coppers before you can say
bippity boppity boo.”

“Yeah, I guess I can see that.”

“So eventually we had to have Glinda, the Good Witch, take us down the Yellow Brick Road to see the Wizard and have him age us up so we’d better appeal to the masses.”

“The Wizard?” I repeat. This story is getting crazier and crazier. “But I thought he was a fake.”

“That’s what we wanted Dorothy to believe ...” the fairy godmother replies with an exaggerated wink.

I lean back in my seat, not knowing where to start.

“Anyway, if you can get past the old crone thing, it’s really not that bad a gig,” she continues. “We get to travel a ton, helping our godchildren with things like designer clothes, tickets to the hottest balls, elegant transportation ...”

“Oh, like a carriage made out of a pumpkin!” I exclaim.

She gives me an amused look. “Yeah, if we were in the Middle Ages!” she says sarcastically. “Today, it’s more like a Mercedes made of melons, thank you very much.”

Of course it is.

“So then can you help me?” I ask hopefully. “Can I be your Cinderella? I have to get to Tír na nÓg and find my sister.”

She glances at her watch. A Rolex, in case you were wondering. “I have a flight to catch in an hour,” she muses. “Some servant girl in Slovenia is hoping to hook up with the prime minister at the royal meet-and-greet tonight.” She taps a finger to her chin. “I guess I could give you directions at least. And how about a Lamborghini made of lemons?” She pauses, then adds, “Just make sure you have it back by midnight or there could be some ... complications of a decidedly sticky sort.”

I make a face. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’ll just take the directions, if you don’t mind.”

She grabs a napkin and a MAC lipstick out of her Chanel purse and draws a small little map. “Most people think Tír na nÓg is an island,” she says. “But actually it’s here on the main-land. Just a different ‘here.’ ”

“Right. And there’s some secret way to part the curtains of the world?”

She looks up. “Your parents didn’t teach you anything, did they?”

I shake my head.

“It’s okay. After all, if it weren’t for absentee parents, I’d be out of a job.” She waves her hands and mutters something under her breath and a moment later a small piece of parchment paper flutters to the table. I pick it up eagerly.

“Are these directions?” I squint at the paper.

“No, no. I don’t have time to conjure up a full-on poem on the fly. It’s just the URL for the fairyland cheat codes. Print out the magic words and then head here.” She presses a finger to the map. “The rest will be obvious, you being Sidhe and all.” She looks up and smiles at me. “You sure you don’t want the lemon Lamborghini? Or maybe a frankfurter Ferrari?”

I’m tempted, but I shake my head. “That’s okay,” I say. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

“Good luck,” she says. “Tell your sister I said hello.” She rises from her seat.

“Wait. You’ve met Sunny?” I ask. “In Tír na nÓg?”

“Met her?” The fairy godmother laughs. “I conjured up her wedding gown.”

And with that, she pulls a wand out of her purse and waves it twice, disappearing into a cloud of glitter. I look around the pub, but no one seems to have noticed anything except me.

I sink into the booth. Fairy godmother. Who would have thought? And what was that she said about Sunny ... ?

Oh my God. She said wedding gown! That means ...

I grab the napkin map and run for the door. We need to get to Tír na nÓg now! Before it’s too late!