10. Maeve

“Not human?” That doesn’t make sense. “You mean they’re some other species? But… there are no other primates in the world with that level of language ability. I mean, that was astounding. What genus and species are they? Why have I never heard of these fae in scientific journals? Are they localized in the UK or—” I stopped as I noticed Flynn grinning. “You’re teasing me.”

Flynn grinned harder. “Not pulling your leg, but I think our little scientist is confused.”

“They don’t have a genus and species, Maeve.” Corbin explained. “No scientist can exactly get close enough to study them, for reasons which you discovered tonight. I wasn’t kidding when I said they’re fae.”

I’m lost.

“Fae? As in…fairies?”

“The very same.”

I studied Corbin’s face, waiting for him to crack up laughing, But his pouty lips remained pursed, completely devoid of mirth.

“But…that’s just kids stories…” I glanced at Arthur, but he was nodding sagely. “I stopped believing in fairies years ago. Actually, I never believed in fairies…”

“Oh well, then,” Flynn grinned at the guys. “You hear that, lads? We’re totally safe. Maeve doesn’t believe in fairies, so they’re going to stop trying to tear our throats out now.”

He tipped the last of his mead down his throat and reached for my glass. I knocked his hand away. I had a feeling I’d need the alcohol.

“Unfortunately, belief doesn’t factor into it one way or the other.” Corbin said. “The fae are real, and if you’re staying at Briarwood, they’re going to be a very real part of your life.”

That was such a cop-out answer, but something in the seriousness of his voice made me pause.

I remembered that my stalker…the fairy or whoever he was – knew my name. And that he followed me here from Arizona.

A shiver ran down my spine.

I folded my arms. “Okay, so let’s say for argument’s sake that I believe you about this fairy business. Which I don’t. But let’s just leave that aside for now. What do these fae want? Why did they attack us like that? Where did the dog come from? And why didn’t they all follow us up the path to the castle?”

Flynn gestured at Corbin with a flourish. “Take it away, mate.”

Corbin cleared his throat. “I’ll try to answer all your questions, but there’s some stuff we can’t explain right now. Especially not while you’re jet-lagged and slightly tipsy. They didn’t follow us up to the castle because we have magic protections called wards around the Briarwood’s boundary. These wards have been in place for many centuries. The fae can’t walk on this land, in the same way we can’t pass over into their realm. But they want us. They want this castle. It’s very important to them.”

“I’m sorry, magical protections?”

“Yeah.” Corbin blinked. “Arthur, Flynn, Rowan and I…we can sort of do magic.”

Oh hell.

In a small voice, I asked, “Like card tricks, pulling a bunny out of a hat, that sort of thing?”

I knew that wasn’t what they meant, but part of me hoped…

“I mean we are witches. We’re descended from the ancient bloodlines who used their powers to help the early Britons win the first wars against the fae and banish them to their realm.”

I held up my hands. “Come on now. This is getting crazy. Fae, magic, witches… I know you Brits like to poke fun of the stupid Americans, ha ha ha. But if you thought I was going to believe this stuff, then you definitely?—”

I gasped back my words as Arthur extended his hand in front of me, palm facing up. A flame burst from his fingers, the orange light casting a strange glow across his skin.

I peered under his hand. Nothing underneath. I grabbed his wrist and felt around his lower arm – there was no wire or ignition or anything hidden against his skin. My fingers brushed over the scars near his elbow, and he shuddered a little. I yelped as the flame leapt up, nearly touching the beam above our heads as a flare of heat crashed against my body.

“Arthur!” Corbin yelled.

“Sorry!” Arthur narrowed his eyes. The flame calmed down a little.

I sucked in a breath. “Okay, I give up. How are you doing that?”

“This is my power,” Arthur said. “All witches can control one of the five elements. My element is fire. I can conjure fire at will, and manipulate it.”

He cupped his other hand, and passed the flame between them.

“Okay, well now I know this is ridiculous because there are only four elements.”

“In science, maybe. Alchemists have recognized a fifth element for centuries – the element of spirit,” Corbin explained.

“Alchemy is a load of nonsense.”

“Only 80% of it is, but that’s not so important now. What’s important is that you believe what we’re telling you about the fae and about our ability to protect you.”

“I don’t have to believe anything.” I folded my arms. “What you’re telling me is insane.”

“If this isn’t true, if we aren’t what I say we are, then what other explanation could possibly explain what you saw tonight?” Corbin nodded at Arthur’s hand. “Or what Arthur’s doing right now?”

“Or this.” Flynn held his own hand over Arthur’s, his palm pointing down. A trickle of water ran between his fingers, quickly turning into a spout. With a sizzle, Arthur’s flame went out.

“Flynn’s element is water,” Arthur explained. “Because he’s such a wet blanket.”

“A soggy biscuit,” Corbin adds.

“You’re both hilarious,” Flynn shot back. “A couple of pure deadly comedians. Maeve, don’t let these bastards do the eulogy at my funeral.”

“My element is air,” Corbin explained, ignoring Flynn. “And Rowan is earth.”

Earth.

I faced Rowan, remembering how he’d pressed that clump of soil into that guy’s face, how he’d chanted something under his breath – a language I didn’t recognize. How the guy had recoiled as though the dirt caused him great pain, and how I’d felt something when I pressed the twig in my hand against Rowan…

My head throbbed. I rubbed my temples. So many questions, but one burned in the front of my head, one that was vitally important even though their story so far was completely ridiculous.

“So, okay. Sure, you’re witches. I thought witches were only old ladies with hooked noses or teen girls who dressed like goths, but whatever. That fae guy, why did he know my name? And if he comes from this fae realm, why was he in Arizona on the night my parents died?”

Flynn kicked Corbin’s shin, and Corbin cleared his throat again. But before he could say anything, Arthur patted my knee and said. “His name is Kalen, and we’ve encountered him before. Unfortunately, although we killed his other friends tonight, he lives to hassle us another day. Kalen was in Arizona because he followed Corbin there on his visit.”

My body sagged with relief. He isn’t stalking me. This is all just a big coincidence, and there’s a logical explanation?—

But Arthur was still talking. “—because Corbin is the leader of our coven – that’s the word for witches who work together in a collective?—”

Okay, not such a relief.

“I watched The Craft. I know what a coven is.” Any film or book featuring witches was sacrilegious in our house, so of course we loved them. One summer, our parents went away on a ten day Bible retreat and Kelly and I had binge-watched every Satanic show and movie we could find on Netflix. We spent most of that film admiring the 90s fashion.

“Corbin was the one who found us all and brought us together.” Arthur glanced at Rowan. “Some of us had no idea what we even were before we met Corbin. It’s only with our coven working together, with our power focused at Briarwood, that we’re able to keep the fae in their realm.”

“Obviously, you’re doing a super job.”

“Fae used to live all over the British Isles,” Corbin explained. “That is, until humans came across the seas with swords of iron. People cut down the forests, tilled the fields and built roads through the ancient sacred places. The fae fought the humans, and there were many bloody battles, but in the end the fae lost, and with the help of our ancestors the humans banished them to another realm. But the fae aren’t happy about this. They’ve always escaped into our world to cause mischief or chaos. It was getting worse and worse, with the fae weakening the barrier between our realms to the point where people were concerned it might break down entirely. So in the thirteenth century a coven of powerful witches found a spell to seal the fae inside their realm forever. The witches took over this castle in order to guard the entrance to the fae world. We’re all descendants of that coven?—”

“Ah, the joys of inbreeding,” I said.

Flynn burst out laughing, but Corbin continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “—the fae have magic, too. That’s how they get the claws. They can focus their magic, and sometimes they can send one fae through the entrance into our realm. But there hasn’t been three fae at once for… hundreds of years. So something in the spell that blocks the entrance is faltering, and we need to figure out what.”

“Corbin is the biggest, baddest witch of us all,” Flynn said. “If the fae get to Corbin, they break up the band, and then they might be able to free themselves and walk the earth once again.”

“And that’s definitely a bad thing?” I asked, cringing as I heard myself entertaining the ridiculous story as if it was something that was real. “It does sound like we humans kicked them off their ancestral land. They have every right to be pissed.”

“Except that if they come back into our realm, they’re not exactly going to live in harmony with humans. They will raise the Slaugh.”

“The Slaugh?”

“In folklore, it’s called ‘The Fairy Host,’ but it’s actually a swarm of restless dead – spirits of the most dark and evil people and fae who have been rejected from the heavens and the earth. They fly over the land like a dark swarm of birds, and they bring death and destruction in their wake. The last time the fae escaped and unleashed the Slaugh, we had the Black Death.”

Flynn piped up. “Fairies are wankers.”

“I studied the Black Death in school,” I said. “It was an assignment about biochemistry. The plague was caused by the Yersinia pestis bacteria, which hangs out in rodents and in the fleas that feed on them. It’s not caused by some horde of cantankerous ghosts.”

“If you say so.” Flynn swiped Corbin’s drink and gulped it down.

“So fae equals bad. I got that. But you guys know these fae,” I remembered. “You called them by their names.”

“We only know that guy who attacked you,” Arthur said. “Kalen. He’s a type of fae called a pouka – he shapeshifts into the giant black dog that chased us to the gate. He’s also a prince of the Unseelie Court.” Seeing my blank look, he added, “The world of the fae is divided into two courts, each one ruled by royal fae. The Seelie Court are kind of the good guys, as much as fae understand the concept of good and evil. The Seelie dress in green, and they sometimes help humans, if it suits them. The Unseelie Court are the baddies. They won’t hesitate to maim or kill anyone who tries to get in their way. They’re the ones who control the Slaugh.”

“Saying fairies are good or bad is a bit unfair,” Flynn piped up. “Like I said, all fairies are wankers.”

I smiled, but Flynn’s strained expression made the smile fade as soon as it appeared. Flynn actually seemed serious.

“Iron and smelted metal is poison to the fae,” Arthur continued. “That’s why they have those white blades – they make them from bone. And that’s why I learned to fight with a sword. It can do more damage to fae than bullets or fists.”

“That’s probably all Maeve needs to know tonight,” Corbin said, cutting Arthur off mid-monologue. “She’s got that incredulous look on her face that suggests she might stop believing us any second.”

“I haven”t actually decided to believe any of this,” I said. “Except the bit about Kalen and his buddies being dangerous. That part I got.”

“We’re behind the wards, so you’re safe as long as you stay on the castle grounds. We can all go in a group if we have to go to the village, and Dora – she’s our housekeeper – will bring us groceries and other supplies.” Arthur touched my arm. “You’ve already been through enough. We won’t let them hurt you.”

I folded my arms. “That’s not good enough. If these fae really are going to attack me, I want to learn to fight them off, just the way you guys did.”

“That’s not…” Arthur looked confused. “I mean, why?”

“Why? Because contrary to what our surroundings suggest,” I jabbed a finger at the swords dangling from the iron chandelier, “this isn’t the thirteenth century, and I don’t expect a bunch of guys I just met to be my knights in shining armor. I’d rather learn things for myself.”

Besides, this whole move was about doing something completely out of my comfort zone, and swinging a sword around to battle a bunch of imaginary fairies definitely counts.

“I’d hate for you to get hurt,” Arthur said, rubbing his beard. “I’d feel like it was my fault.”

“That’s my choice to make. If this Kalen guy is after us, there’s more chance of me getting hurt if I don’t know how to defend myself, and that will be your fault. So you’ll teach me to fight?”

“I will,” Arthur said. “I have to lead a tour tomorrow morning, but we can start in the afternoon if you like.”

“Good.”

I settled back into the couch, and a wave of exhaustion rolled over me. The plane ride, meeting the guys and seeing that picture of my mother, the pub, the attack, this stupid story about the fae… it was a lot to happen in a single day. I rubbed my eyes.

“I think I need to go to bed,” I said.

Corbin checked his phone. “Yes, of course. You must be utterly shagged.”

“I’m guessing shagged means tired? You guys say the weirdest things.”

“Shagged is a great word,” Flynn grinned. “It has many meanings. I can enlighten you?—”

“Perhaps another day,” Corbin said. I barely heard him. It was taking all my energy just to keep my eyes open. Arthur leaned over and wrapped his thick arm around the back of my neck, the other one under my knees. He lifted me from the couch and started walking across the room.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he whispered in my ear, his beard tickling my skin.

After all my talk about not being treated like a medieval princess, I knew I shouldn’t let Arthur carry me to bed. But his arms felt so good around me and the idea of dragging myself up the two steep flights of stairs to my bedroom tower made me want to get right back on the plane and go back to Arizona. Beautiful, flat Arizona.

I snuggled in against Arthur, letting the scent of soot and fresh sweat and darkness wash over me.

“Goodnight, Einstein!” Flynn called out.

The other guys called goodnight to me, and I mumbled something back. My body bounced as Arthur ascended first the main staircase, then the narrow, winding stairs leading up the the tower. “Here you are, Princess. Home at last.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled, barely holding my eyes open.

Arthur planted me in the middle of the enormous bed. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Goodnight, Maeve. I hope you don’t find a pea in the mattress. If you do, blame it on Flynn.”

I smiled. “Goodnight, Aragorn.”

Arthur hovered for a few moments, like he wanted to say something else, do something else. My heart fluttered a little, and the tightness in my chest tugged against a rising ache between my legs. I focused on Arthur’s lips, suddenly transfixed by the curve of them, by the tiny line of bare skin just visible between the pink flesh and his wild viking beard.

What would it be like to kiss him? How would it feel to have Arthur’s enormous hands on my body, his tight muscles against my skin? My heart beat faster at the thought of it. Somehow, I knew it would be a hundred times better than anything I’d done with Andrew.

Kiss him. Go on. Just lean over and kiss him.

An invisible force tugged me toward Arthur. The air between us crackled with heat. I wasn’t tired any more. I was very, very awake, and very, very aware of Arthur’s body only a foot from mine, his huge arms propping him up against the bed, his black metal t-shirt pulling against his broad shoulders.

Kiss him, Maeve.

This voice in my head was completely foreign. Maeve Crawford didn’t go around kissing strange Viking boys she’d only just met.

Maeve Crawford was the pastor”s daughter, the science geek, the girl who never fit in in Coopersville.

But I wasn’t in Coopersville anymore. I’d come halfway around the world to find myself.

Here, I wasn’t Maeve Crawford. I was Maeve Moore, broken girl, mourning girl, and maybe Maeve Moore was exactly the type of girl who made the first move, who kissed a hot Viking guy who made fire shoot from his fingers, just because she wanted to.

And damn, did I want to.

Arthur’s lips parted, just a fraction. His eyes betrayed his own desire.

“Maeve…” he whispered.

My name had never sounded so sexy as it did in his deep, husky voice and British accent.

Heart pounding, I leaned forward, my hands on the bedspread, only inches from Arthur’s forearms. I half-expected him to pull back, but instead, his whole body jerked as I brushed my lips against his.

A spark of fire shot straight from Arthur’s lips right through my body, reaching right into my chest and wrenching free the vise that had been clamped around me ever since my parents died.

I sighed with relief, with the sheer pleasure of his warm touch, of his beard tickling my chin and upper lip.

Arthur moaned, pressing his lips against mine with such force it bent my head back. I pressed back, my lips parting slightly. His tongue slid against mine, warm and soft and delicious.

I breathed deep the smell of him – a hot, smoky scent, mingled with the fresh smell of the sweat he’d worked up fighting off the fae. Arthur reached up, his thick hand grasping my cheek, pulling me against him. I knew that hand could crush me in a moment, and that made him even more sexy.

Heat and emotions raced through my veins, my body begging for release. I reached up my own hand and tangled it in his hair, tugging at his collar, wanting his skin against mine?—

My parents are dead.

A rush of sorrow flooded my body as the realization hit me again. Only now, Arthur had released the vise on my chest, and the pain arced through me, raw and unhindered.

They’re dead, dead, dead.

I tore away in surprise as tears sprung in my eyes. Arthur’s kiss had unleashed a deluge. I raised my hand to my cheek. It was streaked with rivers of salty tears.

Arthur stared at me, his kind face crumpling. To see a guy that tough, that badass, look so completely crushed would’ve been totally endearing had I not been in the middle of some kind of meltdown. “Maeve, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I…”

I gulped as thick, choking sobs clutched my throat. My whole body shook as the grief poured out of me, spilling through my body. “I just… it’s just hit me that I’m here… that all this happened because they’re dead. My parents are dead. I don’t… I shouldn’t?—”

“Did kissing me make you happy?” he asked.

I nodded, my body wracked by another choking sob. Arthur cringed away, as if my pain physically hurt him. He reached out a hand. It hovered in the air between us. I leaned forward, ready to fall into his arms, to pour out my pain against his body, but he pulled away and stood up.

“I have to go,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Maeve.”

“But—” The idea of being alone right now, to sit with this horrible, crushing grief by myself, made me long for the numbness again.

“Hey,” Arthur placed a finger over my lips. “Don’t make that face at me. I want to stay, believe me. But I’m dangerously close to losing control here, and you’ve had a pretty intense day, all things considered. I don’t want to do something we both might regret. But we can pick this up another time, and then…” his voice got this rough growl to it that made my insides ache. “Maybe I’ll be able to kiss those tears away.”

All I could do was stare helplessly after Arthur as he backed out of the room, his eyes betraying how torn he was. He pulled the door shut behind him, plunging the room into complete darkness.

Alone now with only my pain for company, I collapsed against the sheets. My body shook as I let the tears fall, the beautiful and horrible release of all the sorrow and guilt I’d been stamping down and hiding away ever since that night.

Memories assailed me, dancing in front of my stinging eyes. Mom’s cringingly naive attempt to give Kelly and I a sex-education talk, which mostly consisted of her cajoling us to wear promise rings. Dad singing Beatles songs at the top of his lungs as he cooked breakfast for us every morning. Endless Sundays giggling in the back pew with Kelly while Dad delivered his sermons with great aplomb.

The tears rolled down my cheeks, dribbled over my chin, and pooled in my collar bone.

Why?Why did they have to die? I never got to say goodbye, to tell them how much I loved them for adopting me when no one else would. I never got to say that even though we didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of stuff, that I was proud to be their daughter.

And now I never would.

Pale moonlight streamed through the still-open windows, casting long shadows across the room. I lifted my hand up toward the dim light. In my palm was the tiny twig Rowan had given me. Just trying to think about what happened tonight made my temples ache. I couldn’t process it through the grief.

But that little twig…

Even though objectively, it was just a tiny piece of wood, I knew somewhere inside me that this was important, that it carried something of Rowan with him. It was almost as if this twig saved my life tonight.

Which makes no sense. But apparently I threw out all my scientific training when I came to England to live in a castle.

I slid the twig under my pillow. Maybe it would bring me peaceful dreams, free of the nightmares that were now playing out in my head. But I very much doubted it.

A twig was just a twig. And a castle full of beautiful boys who believe in magic was dangerous.