Eve of Samhain (15 page)

“I’m angry with you,” I said as we made our way toward a semi-secluded grassy knoll in the center of the school.

“Aye, I can see that.”

I whirled around to face him. “Why are you hiding things from me about your curse?”

He looked over his shoulder to ensure we were alone, then back to me. “Trust me,
a ghrá
, it’s for the best.”

“What? What the hell kind of answer is that? It’s for the best? I’m not a child, and I don’t need you deciding what’s best for me. I’ve dealt with quite a bit in my short life. I think I can handle whatever it is that you won’t tell me!”

I wasn’t expecting the reaction I got. “Have you ever considered the fact that maybe
I
can’t deal?” Quinn completely lost his cool and paced back and forth, angrily scrubbing his hands over his skull. “Fuck!”

“Just tell me. What is going to happen to you when your curse is over? Why aren’t you happy?” He should be rejoicing at his imminent freedom and the ability to touch whomever he wished, hopefully me, with no repercussions.

Quinn stared at me, his normally bright, piercing blue eyes now dark and stormy, causing panic to bubble up and boil over.

“Won’t we be together?” A huge lump formed in my throat, making my question barely audible. Quinn heard it though, and winced before looking away.

“No,” he said.

I stumbled back, a wrecking ball of pain slamming through my chest, knocking the wind out of me and rendering me speechless.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Agonizing pain and utter disbelief flooded every cell in my body. “Why?”

“Because I won’t be here!” Unable to contain his emotions, Quinn ripped a nearby bench off the ground and launched it into a nearby tree. A thundering crack echoed through the air as two giant limbs came crashing down along with the now-mangled bench.

I looked around, horrified, making sure no one witnessed Quinn’s fit of temper.

He was leaving me. Quinn was leaving me. With all that had happened over the last month, his admission was a crushing blow to my psyche. I couldn’t listen to another word.

Shaking my head, I took a few steps back, turned and ran as fast as I could away from him. Probably not the smartest thing to do, but hey, I wasn’t firing on all thrusters. It hurt too much to be around him, so I caved and ran.

“Where do you think you are going?” Quinn magically appeared a few feet ahead of me. I stopped too suddenly and lost my balance, ending up a blubbering heap on the grass.

Quinn moved to help me up, but I squashed that notion quickly, scooting back across the damp lawn on my bottom before hauling myself up on my own.

“No! I don’t need any help! Leave me alone!”

“Stop your childishness,
mo chrói
. You wanted to know the truth, and now you do. Let’s finish this.” He towered over me, a mix of anger, pain and determination etched across his godlike face.

“You’re leaving me!” Silent tears flooded my cheeks as I stared up at him.

He reached for me, caught himself and clenched a fist before dropping his arm. “I’m so sorry,
a ghrá
.”

“Why? Why are you leaving? Where are you going?” I sounded like a desperate child, sniveling away in front of the object of her unrequited love. I didn’t care enough to be ashamed. The reality of our situation hurt too much.

Quinn’s jaw twitched and he looked away from me, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Tell me!”

Quinn’s head snapped around, his eyes blazing with emotion. “Dead! I’ll be dead! Is that what you wanted to hear? Come the Eve of Samhain, I will cease to exist!”

Time came to a screeching halt. The world I knew faded into nothingness. A gut-wrenching scream pierced through the air. “No!” It took a few moments before I realized the scream came from me.

“Y
OU’RE
L
YING
!” A mind-splitting ache pounded throughout my skull and I gripped the sides of my head, trying to keep it from exploding.

No. No. No. It can’t be. It can’t be. I just found him.

“You can’t die.” I stood before him, trying with all my might to force my will upon him verbally. As if the universe would ever actually bend to my will.

Ha!

The Powers That Be had my ass in a sling, and I knew it.

Quinn’s voice was low and full of resignation. “Yes, Ryann, I can.”

I rushed forward, invading his personal space until my face was mere centimeters from his own. “I. Refuse. To. Accept. That.” I stepped back, grabbed a fistful of hair in each hand and shook my head. “There must be something that can be done. Tell me!” My voice gave out, sounding hoarse and raspy.

The look of pain on Quinn’s face nearly broke me, yet he bore his suffering in silence, saying nothing while I ranted like a lunatic. This was the reason for the sadness that always lingered behind his eyes. He knew his fate. Quinn knew he didn’t have much time left, and he’d done his best to hide that fact from me. But why?

“No. This conversation is over. Please, Ryann. Let it go.”

“I can’t.” Hot tears engulfed my eyes and I could barely see. “Don’t you understand? I love you.”

The world fell oddly silent, the air surrounding us stagnant as Quinn stood stock-still, absorbing my admission.

There…I’d finally said it. I’d admitted my feelings to Quinn. This certainly wasn’t the way I’d imagined myself professing my love. I’d envisioned something romantic involving candles and a whole lot of kissing, but hey, at least it was out. I’d bared my soul and would have no regrets. My only hope was that he cared for me enough to do the same.

Visibly torn, Quinn raised his arms toward me, looking as though he wanted to pull me into an embrace. He stopped midair, balling his hands into fists. He let out a deafening roar that sent the local fauna running for cover.

Regardless of the fact that I knew I had nothing to fear from Quinn, my body instinctively shied away from his loud battle cry. The look of hurt on his face was clear, but I couldn’t make myself stop moving.

My stomach heaved, bile rising up into my mouth. Nothing. I’d bared my soul to him and he’d given me nothing in return. Quinn remained silent, motionless as he watched me inch away from him, crying silent tears with each step. Tears for what I wished we could have been. Tears for what I knew we’d never be. I cried for the love I so desperately wanted him to return, and I cried because in that moment, I desperately wanted a mother that would comfort me and tell me everything would be okay. But I didn’t have a mother, and evidently I didn’t have Quinn, either.

Regardless of what he did or didn’t feel for me, I knew I had to help him. There was no way I was going to sit back and let him die. As long as I had breath in my lungs and a beating heart to keep me going, I’d do all I could to help him.

“Where are you going,
a ghrá
?” Pain fused with confusion in his voice, and though I knew it would kill me to run away from him, I had no choice.

“Away from you!”

“You know I’ll follow. I won’t rest until I destroy whatever it is that’s hunting you. I won’t leave you unprotected.”

I won’t rest either. Not until I help you. Please forgive me.

“I don’t want your help,” I screamed. “I don’t need anything from you. You’re just going to leave me regardless. You might as well just leave now.” I turned away from him and ran, screaming at the top of my lungs, knowing he’d cloak himself with invisibility to avoid the scene I made.

I ran, balls to the wall, crying, all the way to my apartment, trying unsuccessfully to call Jessica in the process. Occasionally glancing sideways to take in my surroundings, I found my instincts were spot on. I couldn’t see him, but the warm ache in my kitty affirmed his proximity. I could find him anywhere by following the tingle.

I picked up my pace as I neared my apartment, reaching into my bag for my keys. I knew if I had any trouble with the new lock I’d be more than able to knock down the door, as upset as I was. My body was pumping with adrenaline, and that shit gives you all kinds of strength.

Finally, for once, fate was on my side, and I made it into my apartment without incident, and, thankfully, alone.

I knew Quinn would never step foot inside, not wanting to risk the possibility of accidental contact. Though at that point, I had to wonder what his motivation was for abstaining. It wasn’t like he was saving himself for me. I’d given him the perfect opportunity to man up and share his feelings with me, and he’d failed to do so. Knowing my estimation of his level of affection for me was clearly way off base, I couldn’t understand his reasoning for keeping himself from other women. If he didn’t want me, why remain abstinent after five hundred years of whoring?

Trying to solve the mystery that was Quinn resulted in a mind-splitting headache. I ceased pondering over his actions and pounded on Jessica’s bedroom door, irritated when there was no answer.

“Jess,” I hollered. I shuffled toward my room and peered in, hoping to God she was in there. “Are you home? Jess?” My cries were met with silence and I slumped down to the floor, my back resting against the cool wall of the hallway, just outside Martha’s door. I’d have to bide my time. I didn’t care how long I had to sit and wait. Nothing and no one would keep me from my goal. I was going to find a way to save Quinn. Depleted and mentally worn, I ended up falling asleep while I waited.

A sharp pain in my leg wrenched me from my sleep and I looked up to see Voodoo Martha glaring at me as she kicked me again.

“Hey. Ryann. Wake up. Move.” Her embittered voice was cold and sour, as was the look on her face.

I shot up off the floor, knackered and out of it from my emotional confrontation with Quinn. I blocked the doorway where I stood and moved so she could enter her room.

“Sorry. Do you know where Jessica is?”

I got an eyeful of
stay the hell away
. “She’s with her mother,” she snapped. “I thought you’d know that.” Visibly annoyed, Martha grabbed hold of the doorknob, entered her room and swung around, intent on slamming the door in my face.

“Wait.” I shoved my foot into the doorjamb and forced my way into the small room, much to the dismay of its owner. “Actually, I’d like to talk to you.”

Martha’s head snapped back in surprise. “What the hell for?”

“I need your help.” I cringed. My life had definitely become a goddamned calamatastrophy if I was seeking out Voodoo Martha. She was the last person I wanted to spend any kind of time with, yet she was the only person I could think of that might be able to help me. That fact made her my new BFF.

“My help?” Martha stood with one foot in front of her, arms crossed, and wearing an expression that boldly shouted, “Do I look like I give a damn?” Her eyebrow rose in question as she waited for my reply.

It wasn’t until that moment that I really took a good look at Martha. Sure I’d glanced at her the few times I’d been lucky enough to see her around the apartment, but always ended up looking away because, frankly, she scared me.

Observing her now, I noticed that although her wardrobe and makeup choices were well off the beaten path, Martha was actually pretty. At least, she could be pretty if she’d stop scowling for two seconds, so people could actually see her.

Bathed in black, Martha wore a tight, low-cut black sweater that accentuated her well-endowed chest. She had on a short, ruffled black skirt with large safety pins crawling up the side. Fish net stockings hugged her slender legs and were covered with black and white knee socks, topped off with the most wicked pair of Docs I’d ever seen.

That shit must take forever to lace up.

Martha’s head was an issue all unto itself. Her dark, mahogany locks were styled into an emo hairstyle, with longer layers that hung past her shoulders and shorter layers near the crown of her head. Long sweeping bangs fell across her forehead, partially obstructing her hazel eyes, which were surrounded with thick, black eyeliner that distracted from their natural beauty.

A large nose ring jutted out from her left nostril, and another stuck out from her right lower lip, which was painted blood red. And her skin…It was beyond pale and had me wondering just how much powder it actually took to achieve such a look. I wanted to come at her with some bronzer and throw her out into the sun so she could catch a little color. I didn’t think she’d be game for a makeover, so I squashed those thoughts quickly.

Martha waved her hands in front of my face, bringing my attention back to the here and now. “Are you done staring at me? What the hell do you want?”

I held up one finger. “Hold on a sec.” I walked over to her nightstand and plopped my iPhone onto her docking station, turning the volume up as loud as I could. With Quinn’s supernatural hearing, I needed to do what I could to muffle our conversation. I didn’t want him to know what I was up to.

“What the hell are you doing? I’m not listening to that crap,” Martha snapped.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’ll explain the music in a minute. I think you might be the only person who can help me, since you know…” I trailed off for a moment, taking the opportunity to look around her room and all the strange paraphernalia it contained. “Since you believe in all of this,” I said with a sweeping hand motion.

She met my admission with a scrutinizing glare. Her suspicion was obvious, I’m sure a result of the treatment she regularly received because of her odd lifestyle. If I had any hope of convincing her to help me, I was going to have to dish out something in return. I gave her the only thing I could: the truth. The worst that could happen was she’d think I was bat-shit crazy. In which case, I’d claim substance abuse as the cause of my recent hallucinations. People blamed everything on drugs.

“Look…” I said, taking in a deep breath. “This is going to sound nuts, really out there, but I swear to you I’m not insane. My boy—” I stopped myself from saying the word. Quinn was not my boyfriend. Hell, he hadn’t been a boy for several hundred years. Not wanting to stray from the topic at hand, I started again.

“I have this friend, and he’s a faerie.” I stopped to take in her expression which I was sure would be one of shock and disbelief. To my surprise, Martha stood just as she had the moment before I’d spoken, scowling away at me. I waited for her to ask me if I was joking, but the moment never came.

A small hand sliced through the air in front of me. “Wake up, girl,” she said, admonishing me. “This is the twenty-first century. Just because someone is gay doesn’t mean they are in need of help. Get a clue!”

What? Gay? Oh!

“No, no. I didn’t mean gay faerie. I mean he’s actually a faerie. You know, as in mythical creature faerie.”

“Oh,” she said still wearing a scowl on her face. “You should have just said that in the first place.”

She believes me?

My eyes widened. “You believe me?”

She shrugged as if to say our whole conversation was no big thing. “I’ve seen a lot. Not much shocks me.”

“Oh, thank God. You believe me.” Relief swept through my veins. “He needs help, because he was cursed and he’s dying, and I can’t let him die, because I love him.” My words ran together I spoke so fast, and I wasn’t entirely sure if she caught everything.

With one final glare, Martha turned and walked over to the end of her bed, where her giant trunk lay, closed and padlocked.

“Have a seat,” she said as she fiddled with the lock.

Hesitantly, I walked over to her bed and sat, earning a reproachful look from Martha. I slid down to the floor with my back leaning against it. I heard her digging through her case full of mystical goodies and wondered what exactly she kept in the thing. I didn’t dare look, worried she might get mad and refuse to help me. I stared idly at my hands, picking at a hangnail on my thumb while she found what she was looking for.

The lid slammed shut and I saw her heavy boots in my peripheral vision as she walked over to sit beside me. She clutched a very thick and very old book to her chest, which she tentatively laid on her lap. The book was bound in dark, worn leather, the edges of its pages appeared slightly yellow and timeworn.

I shuddered to think what the aged manual contained given the contents of the other books she left out in the open. She kept this bad boy under lock and key so it probably held great value. The damn thing was probably dangerous, too.

I swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump in my throat.

“The Book of Light,” she smoothed the cover reverently, “has been in my family for over two hundred years.”

My eyes grew wide as she spoke. Two hundred years?

“Within its pages are documentations of every encounter my mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, and those that came before them, ever had with otherworldly beings. Demons, warlocks, faeries and the like are all accounted for in this book. I’m quite certain we can find something in here that will aid your dying friend.” All trace of hostility vanished from her voice, and I searched her face to find it void of her trademark scowl.

I gaped at her in disbelief. “Why are you helping me?” I’d expected some sort of fight and had readied myself for the possibility of begging. Instead, I sat flabbergasted on the floor next to her as she prepared to assist me in my quest to help Quinn.

“Because. You’re the first person that’s ever asked.”

I stared open-mouthed as she continued.

“People are afraid of me. They think I’m this evil, awful person because of how I look and what I can do. I got tired of trying to prove them wrong. It’s just easier to act the way people perceive me, and scare them away.”

I blanched. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah, well…that’s just the way it is when you see what I’ve seen and know what I know.”

“What are you?” I’d had my suspicions since my first encounter with her, but wanted to hear it from her lips.

“I’m a witch,” she said and smiled brightly.