The Arrow (Children of Brigid Trilogy Book 1) (26 page)

“You didn’t kill my mother,” she said. “But I bet she lay hands on you when you tried.”

He nodded, holding her wrists.

“Then she gave you your soul back,” she said. He nodded again. She almost started laughing. She only held it in so as not to insult Eli when he was sad.

“Dude,” she began, trying for a light-hearted tone that she didn’t really feel. “You couldn’t kill my mother without her consent. She wasn’t the dying kind. Not even a traitor like Sully could have kept her from getting well if she meant to get well. She’s gone because she wants to be.”

He kept his eyes transfixed to her hands. She lifted his chin to make him look at her. His eyes were like sea glass.

“I hurt you,” he said. “I’ve hurt your family.” She was close enough to feel his voice rumbling in his throat.

“We grieve because we aren’t just Divine. We’re human too. But once we remember ourselves we’ll know she isn’t actually gone.”

She sounded more sure of herself than she felt though she knew she spoke the truth. He lifted his eyes to hers with a look so hopeful it broke her heart.

“You can feel her right now, can’t you?” She placed her hand over his heart. It beat as fast as a runner’s. “She’s a part of you too now. She already forgives you.”

He placed his own hand over hers. She moved closer until his breath touched her cheek.

“To become a demon, I killed an innocent child. A girl...” Every word seemed to cause him physical pain. “I cannot be forgiven, Goddess.”

“You told me your name is Eli,” she said. “Not Eligos anymore.”

He lowered his chin. She cupped his jaw with one hand, felt his heartbeat with the other. He brushed a piece of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. His face was kind now, if unbelievably sad. His square jaw clenched with the pressure of holding in emotion. His touch carried the weight of a great strength that would never hurt her but would always be there to protect her.

The bottom fell out of her stomach like in a dip on a Ferris wheel. She raised her face to his and he kissed her. His lips were soft but insistent. He pulled her closer until she lost her breath completely. His tongue parted her lips and he went deeper in the second kiss, his arm cradling her as if she were fragile. She felt his hunger for her. She pulled him down onto the rug, his full lips her lifeline. He trembled as she ran her hands under his shirt. The hard planes of his chest erupted into goose bumps. When he gasped she drew his lower lip between her teeth. She unbuttoned his jeans for him, then her own. He followed her lead, shy but also full of his own need. She kissed him again.

“I love you, my goddess,” he said. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close. She guided him inside her. Rain lashed the thatched roof of the cabin. The oil lamp flickered and went out, leaving them in the orange glow of the fireplace coals.

This was not a false ritual in a haze of drugs, an escape from a reality she didn’t want to face. This was remorse meeting redemption. This was loneliness meeting healing devotion. She kissed him until she forgot her failures and her all too human grief. She kissed him until her lips were bruised and she forgot everything but the cabin, the woodstove, and the sweetness of this beautiful, broken man who loved her.

***

Eli left the cabin to walk the perimeter of the Keep walls. Fynn sat on the porch with a wool blanket around her shoulders. Stars studded the night sky through the breaking clouds. The storm had been violent but brief. It was quiet enough to hear the pounding surf off the bluffs on the other side of the Keep.

Lia and their father strolled to the cabin looking tired. Lia slumped on the steps while William went inside. The rusty springs of his bed creaked under his weight.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do it,” Fynn said. “I couldn’t kill Sully.”

Lia put her arm around her. “Of course you couldn’t.”

“I’m supposed to be the Arrow, aren’t I?” She was surprised Lia wasn’t angry.

“Sully was important to you. His betrayal was a shocker to everyone. Cut yourself some slack.”

Fynn wrapped her arms around her knees. Forgiveness wasn’t what she was expecting and she didn’t know what to say.

“I think I’ll crash here tonight,” Lia said, yawning. She stood and held the door open for Fynn. “Those feather mattresses in the loft are nice.”

“We will have to rebuild the Three as soon as we can,” Fynn said.

Lia climbed the wooden ladder to a wide loft padded with mattresses and hand sewn quilts. “Let’s go to sleep, Fynn. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Fynn drew the blanket closer around her. It smelled like her father. It smelled like the outdoors and wood smoke. It smelled like long nights around a story fire, surrounded by other Keep children. She had grown up to those long stories with their gods and goddesses and warrior women and princes weaving into her consciousness until what was real and what was story were blended and equally true.

Fynn crawled into the loft with her sister. They arranged themselves in the down and silky cotton. It seemed strange to feel peaceful while Mother Brigid lay dead. It was impossible to imagine that they would never be together again. It seemed that Mother Brigid would come through the door any minute, laughing and asking William for a smoke.

Water dripped from the eaves of the roof while Eli circled the cabin. The wooden boards groaned as he settled into the rocking chair under the shelter of the porch. Fynn snuggled deep under the quilt, and she did feel peaceful. She waited for a wisecrack from Lia about her interlude with the demon but none came. It had to be that Lia didn’t know about it. Somehow what happened with Eli was a secret she was able to keep from her mind-reading sister.

Lia’ shoulders rose and fell under the quilt. In a few hours it would be morning, and the Keep would go about the death arrangements for Mother Brigid. They would have to manage to gather the community together. They had to plan what to say to the people. They had to plan a funeral. Dealing with that grief would take time and the company of her family. For now, it was okay that they were safe, protected, and able to rest for a few hours.

Nothing would be the same but Fynn thought that just maybe everything would be all right.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Lia said in the darkness, the mind reading up once again on the strange goddess line.

***

In the morning Fynn woke to an empty cabin. She rubbed a circle into the dew on the window. Eli lumbered across the meadow. She met him at the bottom of the ladder of the loft bed and wrapped her arms around his waist. He lifted her in a bear hug. When she kissed him, she tasted the sea on his lips. He’d already been surfing.

“We have to talk,” she said.

He shrugged, his enormous shoulders broad as a bear’s. The ends of his hair dripped with salt water. He started moving around the kitchen, lighting the stove, putting on the kettle.

He unwrapped a parcel of fresh baked bread from the Keep’s kitchen. It steamed in the cold room. He put a hunk of bread on a cracked plate, drizzled raw honey over it.

“You have to eat,” he said.

“What about coffee?” she asked.

Eli poured a cup with a small grin on his face. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” he asked.

“What?”

“Guarding you,” he said. “Taking care of you.”

“I don’t need anybody taking care of me,” Fynn said. The bread was sweet and tasted like everything good in the world. She wolfed it down. He cut off another piece and she ate that one fast too. She took a swallow of hot, bitter coffee. “I’m the Arrow. That means I take care of everybody else. I guard the Keep. I kill demons. Except you, of course.” Her destiny in a crash course.

“I’m here to protect the protector,” Eli said. “You can fight me on it if you want to. It won’t do you any good.”

He still had the demon bulk to his muscles, a certain hardness to his craggy face. But his voice no longer sounded awful.

He sat across the table and buttered yet another piece of bread. He poured honey on it before handing it over for her to devour. She tasted clover flowers, sunshine, long summer days. Honey dripped down her chin. Eli’s face broke into a smile as he leaned forward. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her mouth. He licked the honey from her lips.

“We have to get to work,” she said weakly.

“Yeah we do,” Eli said. He sat back, his smile gone. “But I swear Fynn, when all this is over I’m taking you out to the meadow and I’m going to lay you down and...”

Fynn held up her hands. “Please,” she begged. “Stop.” Desire ran through her entire body.

“You’re right,” he said. “We’ll stop. For now.”

She steadied herself. “Now, tell me everything you know about the witches’ plot against my family.”

***

After a long talk, Fynn and Eli made their plans. Fynn pocketed her phone while he packed a rucksack with a bow and pointed arrows. She took a shower in William’s solar powered bathroom. The sage-scented soap soothed her skin. The water felt like heaven and she tried not to think of Eli standing just on the other side of the wall. She put on fresh jeans, leather boots, a long sleeved t-shirt.

“He’s going to suspect something if you show up like that,” Eli said. He rifled through the bag of clothes Lia had left in the cabin. He tossed her a long green blouse made of brushed silk. “He’ll love you in this.”

Fynn turned her back before making the switch. Her face burned.

“We can’t tell anybody about us,” she said as she braided her hair. She couldn’t help but look at him though she wanted to hide her blushing.

“Us?” He lifted one eyebrow.

“We can’t tell people what happened last night,” she said. “I’ve got this whole other boyfriend. That is, I did.”

“Komo,” Eli said. He rubbed the top of his head and looked away.

“Look, it’s over between Komo and me. Obviously.”

She felt like an idiot. She’d wasted time trifling on tour with Komo, taking drugs, and partying all while the world was ending.

“Obviously?” Eli repeated. “When you see him again it might not feel so obvious.”

“We’ve got to stop Cate before we think about anything else.” She didn’t mention that she wasn’t in a hurry to announce to her sister and father that she was falling in love with the demon that had been bred to kill her.

“Does trying to save Komo ever work out for you?” Eli asked. The muscle in his jaw popped. “Komo knows where the Keep is. He can come on his own if he wants to.”

“The witch has him,” Fynn said. “Your mother.”

Eli shook his head. “You know as well as I do that Komo is a prisoner of no one. Witches can’t imprison the Divine if they don’t want to be caught. The balance of power doesn’t work that way.”

Fynn tilted her head. “That’s the most I’ve heard you say at once,” she said. “You sound just like my dad.”

Eli’s face brightened. “Really?” he asked. “Thanks. I love your dad.”

As though he’d been conjured, William’s boots sounded on the porch steps. He ducked inside the front door.

“Time to get this show on the road, young ones,” he said. He looked between them, his brow furrowing for a moment. Then he sighed and went back out.

“So are we clear?” Fynn said in a whisper. “Let’s just forget about last night.”

“Whatever you say, my Lady,” Eli said. He put his hand on the small of her back under the edge of her silk tunic. His hand was unbelievably warm.

“Let’s go,” William called.

Fynn walked ahead of Eli so he couldn’t touch her. She had work to do and couldn’t think about him now. But she already knew that telling herself she could forget about what they did last night was a story that she was never going to be able to mistake for truth.

The roof of Cain Pharmaceuticals was a beautiful place. The gray concrete building shared an architect with some of the more notorious prisons in the state, but it wasn’t the blocky shape that gave it its beauty. It was the fact that it was nestled in a redwood forest within view of the Pacific Ocean that made it so much like a setting out of a fairy tale or myth. From his vantage point with his toes over the edge of the wall, Cain could easily see that his office building was in fact the tower of an evil witch and he her hapless prisoner.

A large bird cried overhead. There were golden eagles in these woods. Behind him the helicopter pilot spoke in low tones to security into his phone.

“You okay up there, sir?” the pilot asked. He cleared his throat. Cain put his arms out, Jesus-style. Or like a plane. He always wished he could fly.

They had killed Fynn. His disgusting brothers did it on their own. Cate reported the facts, slimy with fake regret and sorrow. They killed Fynn and Liadan in an ambush in the woods beyond St. Cocha. They were supposed to kill the older one and return Fynn to Komo’s house alive but they became drunk on blood and went into a frenzy. Cate promised they would be punished. Cain did not believe his mother’s promises anymore. He never really had. He’d thought if he could play along with her games he would find his chance to take control.

He thought by keeping the enemy that was his mother close he could at least predict what she would do. But there was no predicting the Witch Mother’s insanity. His mistake had killed Fynn. The eagle circled lower. His shriek made Cain afraid. He lifted a foot with the plan to pitch his weight forward on air. There would be no flying leap, no attempt at flight. He just wanted death for himself that morning. It was a plain order with no fantasies attached.

His phone rang in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He tottered on one leg, confused. The ring tone was the opening chords of a Dionysus rock anthem. Fynn.

The pilot had run to him when it looked like Cain was about to step off the wall, and nearly caught him when he jumped down from it to answer his phone. Cain scowled at the man, motioned him back.

His hand shaking, he brought the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” He hated the sound of his own voice. It was the voice of a man who was desperate, powerless and still so pathetically hopeful.

“Cain Sandlin? It’s Fynn. Fynn Kildare. Please, if you can hear me, I need your help.”