Reluctantly Charmed (41 page)

Of course, in reality, all he’d done was give the Steps more publicity. He’d added me to a grand list of fornicators and rebels that included Sinéad O’Connor and Henry VIII. But without the lofty powers to behead anyone, it didn’t feel like much fun. And why would I agree to stop the Steps when he wouldn’t share the final one with me? I needed to see it to decide. I admit I was feeling scared. Father O’Brien had read it and had denounced me. In his
eyes, it was the most extreme thing he could possibly do to stop the seventh Step being published. What did it say? What could possibly drive a man to take such an extreme action? I couldn’t imagine.

I was starting to feel sick with worry. I’d lost my appetite, my nerves were fraught, and I was constantly distracted.

Part of me was really annoyed that this had been my journey, that the fairies couldn’t have picked someone else, that it was me who had to have her life fall apart. I was angry at them. I didn’t want this path, and maybe that’s why they wouldn’t speak to me.

I felt removed from my friends. It was great having their support in Knocknamee, but I knew they couldn’t understand what I was going through.
I
didn’t understand. I wasn’t like them anymore.
I wasn’t the person I had been.

Nevertheless, in spite of all the madness, I was feeling stronger. There was something in me I hadn’t felt before, a fire in my belly. Maura caught the brunt of the
new
me when she cornered me at the B and B. I’d thought I was rid of her as I hadn’t seen or heard from her in a while. She had been deep in her investigation, or so she told me.

“We’d like you to attend a gathering tonight.” Maura tried her best to smile calmly, but it was clear she was excited about something.

I was immediately suspicious. “We?” I pushed for more information.

“I know you’re curious about us. Why not see firsthand what we do?” She looked nervous, and bubbles of perspiration appeared on her top lip.

“Are they here? Your group? In Knocknamee?”

She nodded.

“The Hellfire Club?” Why not ask her straight out? What was she going to do?

She threw me a condescending smile. “That title was abandoned a long time ago. But some of us are descendants of the original group, yes.”

“And what do you want? What are you trying to achieve?”

She smoothed her hair, which I was now convinced was a wig. “The same as everyone: love and happiness forever.”

Forever? “For eternity?”

“You’re smarter than you look, Kate. We could use you. It’s in your interest to come along tonight.”

Tonight. The night before I got hold of the final Step. I shook my head. “I don’t know what your intentions are, but they’re not pure. I will not attend this gathering or any other gathering that you put on.” I felt a rage bubbling up inside me. I would not be a pawn in whatever game they were playing.

“Are you sure?” She narrowed her eyes, all pretense of niceness disappearing. “You can come willingly or by force.”

Finally she was showing her true colors. Something told me her connection with gangsters and murderers was not in the recent past. “Don’t threaten me, Maura. Have you forgotten who I have on my side?”

She smiled weakly. “Don’t misinterpret me, Kate. Of course the fairies are on your side. But there are people, other people who will insist you attend tonight.”

Other people
. I laughed to myself. “I’m not going, Maura. You can carry out your satanic worship or whatever it is you’re up to alone.”

I stormed off, back upstairs to my room.

That afternoon there was a light tapping on my door.

“Come in!” I shouted, assuming it was Martin.

I didn’t expect him.

He stood in the doorway breathing heavily, his hands behind his back. He seemed nervous and agitated.

I froze.

My heart started pounding through my chest. What was he doing here?

He stepped forward and, with a look of determination, swung his arms out from behind his back and produced a massive bunch of flowers, blue and yellow and green, and thrust them toward me. “They’re from the farm.”

I nodded, shocked. They were beautiful.

“I . . .” Hugh was breathing very fast, as he closed the space between us. There was no time, there were no thoughts. There was only now, this moment. He leaned toward me, holding my face in his gaze, and gently moved his mouth toward mine.

We found each other and got lost in a kiss. His arms wrapped around me and held me with a ferocious intensity. I was locked in. It was an embrace of apologies and certainties.

Our lips parted and he pressed his forehead on mine, our eyelashes fluttering against each other. He moved his hands to my face and kissed me again. Softer, sweeter. I fell deeper and deeper into him.

He pulled back and whispered my name softly.

“I had a full speech worked out.” He locked his arms tighter around me, his lips on my ear. “But when I saw you, I lost the words.” His cheek was pressed against mine.

I nuzzled into the nape of his neck. “What were you going to say?”

“To tell you that you’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever set eyes on.”

I smiled into him.

“I say the wrong things all the time. I don’t mean to.” Delicately he brushed his lips over mine. “I’m a fool around you.”

I inched slightly backward. “That day in the office, when
Marjorie pulled me into the meeting room. You said I was too ‘natural-looking’ for your site . . .”

He pulled back and looked straight into me. “Other women wear tons of crap to pretend to be someone they’re not. You are just who you are. You don’t hide behind anything.”

“But still not the look for your site?”

“Hair-thinning products and condoms? Are you joking me? We’re not good enough for you, Kate.”

And he started to kiss my face, his hands racing through my hair. My whole being was straining, yearning to be lost in him.

I pulled back again. “The blonde? Who’s the blonde?”

“A friend of Aine’s. They’ve been trying to set me up with her for a long time. We went out a few times. I wanted to make sure she was out of the picture before I came here. That’s why I left the other day. I needed to talk to her. She’s no one, Kate. She’s not you.”

Another deep kiss.

Again, I pulled back.

“Aren’t you going to let me kiss you?” He laughed, his nose pressed on mine.

“One more question. What if I’m a witch?”

“We’ll deal with it. You are who you are.”

I squeezed him tight. Finally. Finally. He was here.

36

T
here’s a moment after sex that I like best. When you are spent. After you have yelped and laughed, and moaned and heavy-breathed all over each other. After every inch, crevice, and nook of your body has been kissed and caressed lovingly. After you’ve tickled and nuzzled and run your fingers over the soft skin of your lover. After you’ve trailed the freckles and moles on his back with the tips of your nails, and smoothed the tops of his thighs with the palms of your hands. After you take that last breath, that deep, salty, sweat-infused breath into his chest, and collapse wholly beside him, when your exhausted body crumples down beside his. When you can just about muster up the energy to lace your fingers together, to let the electric sensation linger between you and sigh a contented, peaceful, happy sigh. That. That’s my favorite moment.

That evening I snuck out via the back garden wall of the B and B, hopped on Colm’s bike for a few miles, parked up, and went for a stroll down a country road. It felt wonderful to be out in the air. I was grinning and shivering in happiness. I was in a love haze. I felt full up. My emotions were bubbling over but I was uncharacteristically mute. All I could do was smile full-toothed, eyes-closed, deep-breath smiles. I closed my eyes and breathed
in the memory of that moment with Hugh that afternoon—the completion of it, the wholeness.

Typically, when one part of my life starts to work out, another part usually goes horribly wrong. So one minute I was daydreaming about the touch of Hugh’s skin while I vaguely wondered why a car was driving so close to me, and the next I woke up in the middle of the night, tied to a tree in a dark field.

It was inexplicable, at first. My head felt heavy, my legs damp. I moved my hands to balance myself and found them tied behind me. My shoulders ached from the restraint. It was dark, cold. I was outside. The wind howled around me, the leaves on the tree thrashing back and forth. The air smelled of damp grass. I licked my lips. My mouth was parched and I craved a glass of water. Where was I? What was going on? My head pounded and my heart was racing. Suddenly I was rigid with fear. I went to shout out but couldn’t make a noise.
Help
, I thought.
Help
.

My eyes became accustomed to the dark. I scanned the shades of black, trying to distinguish any shapes or shadows. Everything felt alive and moving. I pulled on my arms again, trying to wriggle free, but I was tightly secured.

Far away, but it was so difficult to judge distances, I heard a rumble—it sounded like the wind at first. Whistling low. But it became louder and moved closer. I saw a low ember bobbing—not just one, many. Five, ten, fifteen, more and more. Moving in a line like stars in the night. The whistling became a hum, which in turn became music. It was a chant; people were chanting. The stars were candles flickering, and they were coming closer. Now I could see them in the candlelight, people dressed in red robes with peaked hoods. How many? Thirty? It was hard to tell. They walked in perfect single file until they’d formed a
perfect circle. It was then that I knew where I was: Billy the pig farmer’s field. I was looking at the fairy fort, and the Hellfire Club were about to perform one of their rituals.

The chanting grew louder and louder, a rhythmic, trance-inducing theme. Then it stopped and there was silence. That’s when I became really scared.

A man’s voice bellowed through the darkness. He spoke in Irish, and I couldn’t understand him. Then a woman’s voice broke into a haunting song, and the lyrics caught on the wind and rode through the empty fields and wastelands of Ireland. The melody was heartbreaking. Her voice channeled death and misery, and mothers’ tears and broken hearts.

I was mesmerized. The chants returned and the robes started to sway from side to side. The man spoke again. Out of the shadow of darkness a large man appeared beside me. Suddenly I found my voice and I screamed, louder and harder than I’d ever screamed before in my life. As I screamed, I wriggled and writhed like a wild animal, trying desperately to get away from the man. “Help!” I cried. “Help!” I prayed to God that my screams would carry and someone would hear me cry. But the chanting just grew louder.

The man crouched down near me. He was large, dressed in a red robe, and it was difficult to make out his face. “Kate, I don’t want to hurt you. That’s not what this is about. Calm down.” I didn’t recognize his voice, which was deep.

I started to cry. “What is this? Who are you? What are you doing with me?”

He started to untie my hands, but kept a firm grip on my shoulder. I could feel the bruises from his handprint appearing. I was so paralyzed with fear I wouldn’t have been capable of escaping anyway. He pulled me to my feet and dragged me toward the
fairy fort. With a great deal of force, he tripped and pushed me past some of the robes and threw me into the center.

Now I could see that they were all standing outside the fairy fort and I was the only one inside. I was trembling, but then I realized where I was. They couldn’t know what I knew, that I was safe in the fairy fort, that the fairies protected me. Nothing could happen to me there.

Somehow, I started to regulate my breathing and take in my surroundings. I scanned the circle. All cloaked in robes, hoods heavy over their faces, the figures chanting around the fairy fort were impossible to identify. Each one held a candle, prayer-like, in their hands. They were swaying from side to side, and their chanting was getting louder and faster. They were working themselves up into some kind of frenzy.

Reaching fever pitch, they started to stamp their feet. I stared at them wondering what was going to happen. The man spoke again, shouting into the circle, in English this time. “Open the passageway—do it for the girl.”

The fairy fort? The passageway? Where did they want to go?

“You have one of our members. Let him show us the way.”

The chanting was getting so hysterical, the circle almost levitated.

At last I made out what they were saying. “Brick! Brick! Brick! Brick!”

They believed the fairies had taken Brick, the gangster? But why would they take him?

I tried to concentrate really hard. What could I remember about Brick? He’d been last seen at Liam McCarthy’s wake. What had Maura said about wakes? That the fairies attended them. Had they struck up a deal somehow? Had Brick accompanied the fairies to their homeland? To Tír na nÓg? Perhaps that’s what the Hellfire Club believed.

Now the chanters were dancing. Their robes began to slip and I saw glimpses of white hair, bald heads, wrinkled skin, frail bodies. These people were all old. Really old. They wanted a passageway to Tír na nÓg, the land of eternal youth. And they were trying to please the fairies by offering me as a gift. But they didn’t know that the fairies already had me where they wanted me.