Innocent Darkness (14 page)

“This is where you live?” Noli asked as they approached the log cabin deep within a wood filled with the biggest oak trees she’d ever see, towering over her like giants.

“Whenever I can.” Notes of wistfulness tinged his voice. “Often, I’m at the palace.”

“Palace?” They walked down the worn, dirt path. They’d used the faery tree, a
wild gate
as Kevighn called it, to connect to other
gates,
places in this strange world. The Otherworld. The sky held the same twilight as the wild garden, but here it appeared duskier, more purple than pink. Unfamiliar stars winked at her, two strange moons hung in the distance.

“Yes, I’m in the service of the high queen. If I’m not elsewhere, doing her work, I’m generally at the palace. And yes,” he added, with a strangely informal look. “We have a queen.”

She bit her lip. “I … I’m having trouble believing I brought you to another land, one you happen to be from … ”

A land with little, tiny faeries. But they had a queen, not a king. That could be progress.

Stopping in her tracks, she turned and studied him. It seemed to be quite the coincidence, him being there when she made her wish. “Why
were
you in San Francisco?”

“Business for the queen.”

Her eyebrows rose. “In a joy house?”

Kevighn continued down the path. Noli trotted to keep up, not wanting to be left behind. The cabin turned out to be larger than she expected, but not nearly as large as her home in Los Angeles. It was made of roughly hewn logs with windows and a chimney. For some reason it looked so … normal.

Putting his hand on the door he whispered something that wasn’t English. The door opened. By itself.

Noli drew in a sharp breath. “Magic.”

“There’s much magic here.” He smiled. “We have many wondrous things here. Perhaps you’d allow me to show you a bit of my world before you depart?”

She twisted her hands. “I need to get home … ”

Before they told her mama she’d run away.

“Very well.” He ushered her inside. The door closed magically behind him.

The multi-room structure looked a bit like a woodsman’s cabin from a story. A workbench occupied one corner. Another held a case of unusual weaponry that she itched to examine closer. A large, comfortable armchair sat in the center reminding her a bit of her father’s—the one she wasn’t supposed to sit it, but did.

Kevighn’s chair sat in front of the cold, stone hearth. The rug in front of it certainly hadn’t graced the back of any animal she’d ever seen. Hunting trophies of unfamiliar animal heads gazed at her with glass eyes.

It didn’t look as if he entertained much. The room held only one chair—no flowers, pictures on the wall, or anything to indicate a feminine presence. “It is apparent you’re unmarried, Mr. Silver.”

“True.” He nodded towards the far side of the room. “Let’s go into the kitchen, I have two chairs at the table.” Kevighn smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes.

The masculine front room opened into an airy little kitchen with a wooden table and two wooden chairs. He gestured to one and she sat. The tidy kitchen was simple and utilitarian, made of wood and stone. The window over the sink looked into an unkempt garden.

“Tea?” He gestured to the shiny, copper stove. A pile of wood sat next to it.

As anxious as she was to get home, tea did sound nice, wherever she was. What harm could come from a cup of tea? “Please?”

She watched as Kevighn lit a fire in the stove, filled the kettle, put it on, and busied himself with setting the table. He went outside and came back with a basket of dark pink fruit the size of golf balls.

“I am afraid I have no milk, but I have honey.” Kevighn shot her a smile as he placed a honey pot on the table along with a bowl of fruit. Such a handsome smile.

As handsome as V’s? Maybe. Goodness, she missed V. What would he say about this grand adventure?
Do not talk to faeries
.

Oops. But those tiny balls of light didn’t seem like they’d cause any harm.

“Here you go.” Kevighn placed a cup of golden, steaming liquid in front of her. The blue, delicate cups and saucers looked hand-made.

She started to thank him when another one of V’s old stories surfaced.
Never thank a faery
. The man in front of her was hardly a faery; after all, he stood taller than V. Still, something within her warned her to follow that odd bit of lore. As she sipped her tea she tried to recall everything else V had told her. All she could remember was not to dance in faery circles.

“I do appreciate it.” Taking the cup in her hands, she blew across the surface. It smelled minty and sweet. Tentatively, she took a sip. The intense, near-burning mint balanced perfectly with the sweetness, which reminded her of sucking the nectar out of fresh-picked flowers with V on lazy summer days.

Adding honey to his own cup, Kevighn took a sip. “You look tired. I know you’re in a rush to return, but it might take time to figure out the safest way to get there. There are few direct paths to anyplace here.”

She set her teacup down in dismay. “How much time?”

“I don’t know. After all, I must be discreet in my inquiries.”

“Oh.” Staring into her teacup, she mulled this over. “Am I not supposed to be here?”

His eyes met hers. “Not precisely.”

“Oh.” Another land. A magical land. Some of her world might seek to exploit it. It was difficult not to readily accept the fact she was elsewhere with what she’d seen so far. Still, it was odd being in some strange man’s home in an unfamiliar land. “You’ll hurry, Mr. Silver?”

“I’ll try.” He took a fruit from the bowl and bit into it. “Have one. I just picked them.” He pushed the bowl towards her.

Her belly rumbled. “Maybe just one.”

When she bit into the firm, fuzzy fruit, the light pink flesh dissolved in her mouth like spun sugar. Juice squirted down her face, making her laugh.

Kevighn tossed her a napkin. “They’re perfectly ripe, aren’t they?”

“They are.” After finishing it, she putting the pit in her saucer, and took another. After she polished off her tea, she felt drowsy.

“Why don’t you take a nap?” He took another piece of fruit from the bowl, which also looked handmade. “I’ll see what I can discover and you can sleep in my room.”

As tired as she was, warning bells went off in her head. “Perhaps I could doze in your chair?”

“Your honor’s safe with me, Magnolia. I would never try anything with an unwilling woman.” He flashed her a genuine smile that made her want to trust him.

She nodded, eyes heavy. “Just a short nap.”

He stood. “As you wish.”

Kevighn sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of something much stronger than tea. What possessed him to bring Magnolia
here,
to his private home, his refuge?

Never had he brought any of the girls here—not even Annabelle. Certainly, the queen would be unhappy he hadn’t brought Magnolia straight to the palace.

Magnolia reminded him of Creideamh. Silly, really, because the mortal girl didn’t physically resemble his baby sister at all. His thoughts towards the mortal were hardly brotherly. They never were towards the chosen girls. He usually took it upon himself to … personally ensure they had a satisfying stay in the Otherworld.

He’d also given Magnolia one of Creideamh’s dresses. That, too, smacked of poor judgment, something he could ill afford right now. What would he do next? Unlock Creideamh’s room and allow the mortal girl to stay there?

Of course not. Once he put the girl at ease, in the guise of seeking information they’d go to the palace. When she saw the palace, she’d be so amazed by its wonders she’d never want to leave, just like the all others.

Yet this girl was different—smarter, sharper, quicker than his usual quarry. On past hunts he’d occasionally run across girls like her, but passed them over for more malleable prey. He’d have to be careful with this one. Right now the magic hadn’t even begun to bind her—though even that hadn’t helped with Annabelle in the end.

Annabelle. Sighing, Kevighn drained his cup and refilled it from the bottle on the table. Never before had any of the girls committed suicide to escape being the sacrifice. Annabelle hadn’t even been the sharpest of his victims. Her actions devastated his ego, his reputation. After all, he’d been the queen’s huntsman for a long time.

Yes, he hardly needed something to go wrong again, especially with the magic already so unstable. It would destroy them all. For good.

So much rode on this girl. On him. Still, he wasn’t ready to care about anyone again, not really. Why
had
he brought her here?

Footsteps drew him from his ruminations. Looking up, he exhaled sharply, feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut. The dark blue of Creideamh’s dress made Magnolia’s steel eyes and creamy complexion glow. A little long, it otherwise fit perfectly.

It also complemented her dark hair. Those headscarves she always wore hid its splendid curliness. He could easily imagine tangling his fingers in that glorious, long hair.

The mere thought made his trousers tight. Actually, for a mortal, Magnolia was quite pretty. That, too, made him glad he sat. It wouldn’t do to frighten her. Like with the others, he’d win her trust first,
then
seduce her.

“I’m glad the dress fit.” He took another drink, suddenly unsure why he’d given her Creideamh’s dress. But it wasn’t as if he possessed a supply of gowns, dresses, and feminine fripperies as they did at the palace. If he planned on keeping her here, he’d have to make due.

What would his little sister think of a mortal wearing her clothing?

Actually, Creideamh would have dressed Magnolia in her best dress, then fixed her hair. She had a soft spot for mortals.

The look Magnolia gave him wasn’t grateful, but skeptical. “Who did it belong to?”

The question took him aback. Clever girl. He’d need to tread lightly. “My sister. Don’t fret, she won’t mind.”

Her inquisitive steel eyes flashed. “She painted the picture in your room.”

Again, her words surprised him. “Indeed. Please, sit.” He stood. “Let me make some tea.” He busied himself, making her a cup of tea hoping she asked no more questions about Creideamh. “Everything was to your satisfaction?” “It was quite nice.”

Interesting. By now most mortal girls would have thanked him many times. She’d readily accepted the existence of the small faeries and the Otherworld. But not blindly. Her eyes read like a book as she weighed and analyzed everything with her sharp mind.

As the water boiled, he set a bowl of fresh, ripe berries on the table. “I found these in the garden this morning and thought you’d like them for breakfast.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Really?” She bit her lip and looked at him through veiled lashes. “How … thoughtful.”

“No berries at school?” He took a cup down from the cupboard, not missing how her face darkened like a storm cloud. “It was a horrid place, wasn’t it?” He spooned the herbs into a tiny metal net and put it in the cup. Taking the kettle off the stove, he poured in the boiling water. When he set it in front of her, he spied quiet tears running down her face.

Pulling the chair next to her, he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. She seemed uncomfortable at first. “You’re safe now. They can’t hurt you here.”

After awhile she calmed down, growing used to his touch. She sat up and took a sip of her tea, expression determined. “I’m never going back.”

Kevighn had heard that before. He’d helped girls escape everything from abusive marriages to the lion pit. “Would you like to tell me about it?”

“Not right now.” She looked into the depths of the cup.

“Of course.” He needed to lighten the mood, quickly. She looked out the kitchen window as she absently sipped her tea. “See anything you like?”

“I like gardens.” She smiled shyly, probably spying Creideamh’s gardens which had long since gone to seed.

The palace had splendid gardens beyond a mortal’s imagination. Personally, he’d always preferred Creideamh’s. “After breakfast why don’t you explore while I do some research.” She beamed. Excellent. Hopefully by supper she’d have forgotten all about going home.