Silver Hollow (41 page)
He leaned forward, resting
his elbows on his knees
and gripped the cup between his hands. S
he felt the full force of his hidden charisma when he asked her, “Where did they take you this early eve, Amie? You were gone much longer than you should have been.”
“Dameri
wanted me to learn how to hunt g
remlins
,
but Emrys thought…” She froze when he set his cup back on the rickety table between them and dropped his face into his hands.
Gr
owling, he said, “Hunting g
remlins
,
simple as pox
,
aye?”
Amie watched, transfixed, as
flames leapt from his fingertips without burning off his face.
“What sort of
nixed
fools assume the
E
merald
E
yes capable of anything? Manipulative
,
conniving
bilge scum
…” Coming up for air at the end of his tirade, he eyed her for one steady second, before snatching the cup from her hands and pulling her to her feet. “Come hither
,
Amie,” he said, “let me see.”
S
moke tendrils
escaped his touch, as his fingers coasted
over
her hands and arms. Once he pushed her waistcoat aside he lifted her wrists and turned them over.
“Just as I thought
,
” he hissed, then he pressed his fingertips to a nasty black spot.
“What the heck is
th—ouch!”
Amie exclaimed as heat enveloped her wrist and seared beneath the skin. Pulling away to allow the flames to douse his hand once more, Amie gasped to find the black spot erased. The golden flames reflected in his pale blue eyes as he watched the filmy pus burn and singe to ashes off his fingertips.
She watched him make a large fist, through which the flames
extinguished into smoke.
“Goblin sp
i
t
,
” he explained. “Spreads like a plague among humans. Were you not half-blood it would have already claimed you.”
“Why would Dameri go hunting something that could kill her
so
easily?” Still tingling from the fire Dearg had used to heal her, Amie sank into her seat and sipped her tea to ward off her sudden chill.
He stood before the fire and leaned against the mant
el
with his hands. After staring long at the ancient carvings
,
he said, “Humans do nay live forever. It is part of their blessing and curse on this earth. After too much time in the Borderlands they tend to grow a bit muddled in the head.”
“So I guess
this
means I’m going to go crazy too
,
huh?” she said, teasing him in hopes of another glimpse of those curious eyes of his.
Dearg’s answer did not match his rigid posture. “Only time can tell.”
The cottage door opened with a bang and sharp gust of cool damp air, nearly startling her cup out of her hands. Dearg peeked over his shoulder when a booming voice echoed the thump of the door.
“Boy! Where did ye get off tailing back here when there still be work to finish afore first light? Eh? Lad
,
where are ye? I—oh! Well, pardon me Lady Wenderdowne
,
but I was nay expecting to see
you
here this eve!” Slaine Cutterworthy’s eyes were wild with suspicion and surprise.
His cloak and boots were a muddy mess, betraying the ragtag life he led. His hat was in his hands at once, cloak quickly torn asunder while he continued to laugh at them. Dearg flinched, for Slaine was not the sort to laugh quietly. All of his glee and mischievous nature was in
his
bellow as he set his things to a hook and returned to them. As though the aforementioned chores had been forgotten, he pulled a small chair from the corner and sat betwixt the hearth and the Lady.
Pipe immediately out and tampered with, Slaine proceeded to steadily puffing away and only then said, “I see ye have been busy getting up to that mischief I heckled ye about, Milady.”
Amie’s eyes tellingly roved to Dearg, who still had yet to greet his elder relative.
In a tight tone, Dearg finally answered his earlier question. “Uncle, I am finished for the eve. There shall be work aplenty during the festival.”
Slaine puffed his pipe, never taking his eyes off the Lady. “So,” he said, “this is where ye been caught sneaking away to these past nights, eh
,
lass?”
Tea cup frozen in place
,
she replied, “Um…what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His one sharp e
ye focused in on her. “Aye,
’
t
is
precisely
what he said all those years ago.” This got Dearg’s attention though he stubbornly stared into the fire and moved not an inch to join them.
“Who?”
s
he found herself asking.
Leaning forward in his chair, pipe poised in hand, he said, “Why
,
your father of course! Caught him by the
skive
of his suspenders one night, hopping through them woods as if none of us knew where he’d been!” Shaking his head
,
he glared at her as though she were the reason for her father’s mischief. “Some nights I wondered after it happened whether there was more to the
story than even Iudicael knows. But
’
twas he who discovered them, and in his jealous anger lost his senses, drove him mad it did…”
He puffed on his pipe, smoke filling the space between them in thick ginger
-
scented clouds. Amie was on the edge of her seat without contemplating why. That creeping feeling was back again, the one she thought she had left behind with Xcalibure.
“While they fought the enemy crept in,” Slaine continued, “quiet like, knowing the long awaited day had come. Set the place ablaze like a torch and Drustan knew they was after the key.”
A key…
Amie thought of the key hidden in her dress pocket. The same key she had found on an old Texas street, which just so happened to bear her family crest, had become her good luck charm lately. What if it meant something more?
“But if he fled they would follow, sure he knew this as a hydra lays her eggs,” Slaine said, turning to face his nephew. “And better to follow him to the darkest ends of the earth than see the home he so loved destroyed. I think, were it not for you, Jessamiene, he would have let them catch him at last…”
“No more
,
” Dearg seethed with a twist of the head, as if Slaine’s telling was too painful.
Amie frowned at his reaction
,
and when she looked back to the storyteller
,
he was watching her with
a
disconcerting grin. Dredging up the courage, she finally asked, “Why doesn’t anyone like to talk about that night? What
’s
so terrible about the fact no one got hurt?” Both Cutterworthys froze and Amie hesitated. “They…
didn’t
, did they? Dearg?” Her casual use of the stable hand’s true name elicited a grimace from the boy.
Slaine’s owlish eyes widened and he appeared to relish when Dearg visibly flinched at his words. “Ah
,
so that is the way it is, eh
,
boy? Thought ye could just rewrite the future and the balance and order of things, did ye?”
“What are you talking about?” Amie turned to her first friend in the Hollow and struggled to hide her exasperation.
Slaine continued as if she had never spoken. “Clever little laddie hast finally decided to grow up after all.” Cackling merrily
,
with a slap of his hand to the wood of his chair
,
he stood and limped to Dearg’s side. “Well done!” he said, clasping his shoulder with a crooked finger grip
.
H
e breathed smoke into the air about their heads. “But mark me
,
boy, you’ll find spreading your wings difficult under Master’s watchful eye.”
Breaking from his elder’s grip, Dearg clenched his fists and fled his cottage with a slam of the door.
Amie stood to follow, confused why he should be so upset
,
and turned sharply at Slaine’s laughter. “I don’t think you should make jokes at other people’s expense. It’s not fair.”
The old man’s eyes gleamed and Amie froze when smoke fled his fingertips to join that of his pipe. “Dangerous times these are, Jessamiene Wenderdowne,” he said. “But are ye so certain you’re on the right side?”
A
nger took the place of her fear of the smoke escaping his fingertips. And she tried desperately to ignore when Slaine called after her one last time.
“Beware
,
Jessamiene, for that boy is the most dangerous thing ye have yet known.”
…
“Dearg!”
s
he called out once she found her way back to the stables, whipping her head madly about for any sign, sight or scent of him. Her nose told her to follow the trail of smoke flooding her nostrils. She found him at the back end of the deepest darkest stalls, propped against the wall. His hands were held out in his lap, flames dancing, coating them like a second skin, reflecting the twin golden orbs in his eyes.
Amie sank onto the floor at his feet and caught her breath.
His eyes flickered to hers as he offered, “My uncle has always been a meddlesome monger.”
“Never would have guessed y’all were that closely related,” she said.
His lips twitched but he gave no comment. For a long moment all she could do was hold her knees to her chest and stare at the fire leaping from his fingertips and shooting embers into the shadows. Whatever Slaine had said to upset him Amie wanted to help him forget, having had plenty of people in her life who were keen on pushing her along with their own agendas.
Biting her lip
,
she watched as he closed his fingers into a formidable fist. The fire still coated his hand, disappearing under the cuffs of his rolled
-
up sleeves. Yet now it rushed to collect inside his hidden palm, no longer a second skin. Instead his fist glowed bright as hot coals and gave off a soft pulsing light. Mesmerized, Amie watched the ember flame turn inward, traveling through his veins until it spread into his face. His hair turned scarlet, his eyes brilliant as white gold.
He flinched when she reached suddenly to cover his hand with hers, eyes widening. In her curiosity and excitement Amie had not noticed her veins already shone through her translucent pale skin, in a manner eerily akin to faerie lights. Tension,
which
was always an undercurrent between the stable hand and the Lady of the House, thickened like a thundercloud waiting for
its
first lightning strike. His skin was hot but not unpleasantly so and hers was cool in comparison. Both gasped when a violet wave of visible energy escaped her wrist and washed over them both.
Eyes fluttering shut, Amie could feel the strange presence of his power, of flames and ash, greeting her. It was deep and very ancient, older than what she had felt during her lessons with Emrys. Even if Dearg would not betray his secrets, Amie learned much from this simple touch.
Her emerald eyes met his and she gasped to see the gold tinged with the color of her inner
nixy
. Several more waves burst from her body to brush over Dearg as he stumbled around her and backed away.
“I—I’m sorry, I can’t…” Uncontrollable sparks emitted from his open fists and fell to the hard
-
packed dirt beneath her in a dim shower as he turned and fled.
Underhill surprised her the following morning by waking her up well before dawn, out of breath as she revealed to Amie her summons. “Ye are to come directly to the Master’s
Looking Room
for breakfast.”
Amie was annoyed when Underhill proceeded to throw a ruffle
-
laden dress and flouncy petticoats on her person
. Yet when she complained, the h
obgoblin narrowed her gaze and hissed, “Humor me now, milady. After three days serving
her most glorified
highness, I am in need of something I actually fancy doing.”
Amie rolled her eyes, but obeyed and promptly rushed to meet her uncle in the
Looking Room.
Before, Henry had only let her come to him occasionally after her breakfast tray was
cleared
. So she was intrigued by her summons, even if she wasn’t fully awake yet. She had dreamed of fire again last night, consuming the house, and Dearg’s eyes were the first thing she saw before waking. So this distraction was a welcome change of pace.
