Rua Page 6

  A moment later, her phone lit up.

  Good, hope it holds, he had texted back.

  Come over for b-day? Six?

  I’ll be there with bells on, he texted back.

  She put the phone down and headed off to the bathroom for a shower. Today was important, she knew, so she took the extra time to carefully shave her legs and deep condition her hair. Like having shaved legs would actually do her any good, but at least it made her feel nice.

  When she was dressed in her usual jeans, tunic, sneaker, and scarf combo, she sat in front of the mirror to add the necklace. It fell nicely against the smooth white of the hollow at the base of her neck. She touched it with her fingers, watching her reflection in the mirror. It was a thoughtful gift from her adoptive parents. They knew her so well.

  She pulled out her contact lens case. She had perfect vision, so she didn’t really need them. Her violet eyes in the mirror watched her back. Odd, yes, but they could be pretty.

  She stood, contact lens case in hand and threw them in the trash on her way out her door.

  . . .

  The afternoon wore on. She watched the clock constantly. She didn’t know exactly what time she was born, so she had no idea when she actually turned seventeen, or what, if anything, would happen when that moment came.

  She moved through different parts of the house, making her bed, checking the salt circle, putting on make-up, reading, doing laundry. Anything to keep her mind and hands busy.

  She found her dad standing in front of the large living room window, arms crossed.

  “Daddy?” She stood next to him, and saw what he saw.

  The birds. Even more than before, draped their roof, car, and lawn. Just their house, not their neighbors’.

  She looked up at him.

  He was shook his head back and forth. “All those birds, no poop. It’s weird.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Birds poop, a lot. We should be covered with their crap. It should be everywhere, but I don’t see any.”

  She scanned the sidewalks, the cars, the front porch. There were no tell-tale splashes of white or gray. “I don’t either,” she said. “But really, the fact that they’re here at all is enough weirdness without the no-poop thing.”

  “I know.”

  She looked up at him again, noticing for the first time the wrinkles forming around his eyes and the tinge of white around his temples. He caught her looking and tried to hide his concern behind a smile, but it was too late. She’d already seen it.

  “It’s okay, Daddy. I’m pretty sure it has something to do with me,” she said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  She pulled her sleeves down on her wrists, intently studying the batik pattern on her sleeves. “I think it’s kind of obvious, since they followed me. And I have bird nightmares.”

  He smiled again. “Well, you can’t control the birds’ behavior.”

  She shook her head slowly back and forth. “Daddy, if anything were to happen to me, I want you to know that I love you and Mom so much. I’m so glad you chose me. It was the greatest thing in my life. And if something happens, it’s me. I know I’m different.”

  He put his arm around her. “Why are you talking like that, Ce Ce? I need —”

  She was saved by the doorbell.

  “Hands in batter, can’t get it!” Her mom’s voice floated from the kitchen.

  “I got it. It’s Tink,” Celeste said.

  Her dad patted her arm. “We’ll pick this up later.”

  She opened the door. Tink stood there, a little wide-eyed. “Um, Celeste…”

  Rylan stepped into view. “He brought me.”

  “I so did not. He literally just showed up next to me.” Tink shot a nasty look to Rylan.

  Rylan, as usual, was smoking hot packaged in blue jeans, retro sneakers, and bright green eyes. Her heart picked up its pace and warmth flowed into her cheeks.

  She tried to be casual. She let one arm drift up the door frame then leaned against it. The pose stretched her shirt around her body’s shape, at least she hoped it did.

  “Happy Birthday.” Rylan lifted his chin to the sky and took in the birds around the home. “How long have they been like this?”

  “A couple days,” she said. “More today, though.”

  He glanced at his watch then stepped very, very close to her. He lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. “We’re running out of time. I need to speak with you alone.”

  “Ahem,” Tink said.

  She took her arm off the door, stepped back, and saw her father standing behind her. He didn’t look happy.

  “Oh, Daddy. This is Rylan, and this is Tink.”

  Rylan offered a hand to her dad. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  Her dad took his hand and shook it, maybe a little too hard. “Nice to meet you, Rylan.” He looked at Celeste. “I didn’t realize we were having two over.”

  “I’m not staying. I just stopped by to wish Celeste a happy birthday. So, um, happy birthday to you.” He finally looked her full on in the face. “Your eyes, um,” — he cleared his throat — “they look nice like that.” He took off down the street, hands buried deep in his pockets.

  Tink watched his receding form then turned back to Celeste. “Wow, that was awkward.”

  Her dad laughed. He stepped back into the house and opened the door to its full width. “Yes, it was. Please come in, Tink. We’ve heard many wonderful things about you.” He made a sweeping gesture into the house.

  “Why, thank you.” Tink stepped into the doorway at the invitation.

  Celeste stayed on the stoop, watching Rylan fade into the evening. She fought the urge to run after him. She wasn’t sure if the urge came from her desire to learn what he knew, or to learn what his lips would feel like pressed against hers.

  “You coming?” her dad asked from the doorway.

  “Yes.” She walked past him into the house, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. She had no right to think those kinds of thoughts about Rylan.

  . . .

  Dinner ended, Tink reluctantly left after charming the crap out of her parents, and she was back in her room by 9:00. It was very dark outside, so she propped up the window to let in the night air.

  She changed into the long, black, fluffy nightgown her dad had bought for her in Paris, washed her face, and got into bed.

  She toyed with the chain of the necklace around her neck. She thought about taking it off, but she was too lazy to get out of bed. Instead, she thought of her rather ordinary, non-eventful birthday. Maybe it’s over. Maybe the ring of salt did the trick.

  She let that happy thought slide through her mind over and over until she fell asleep and the world went dark.

  She woke a short time later, heart pounding and energy thrumming through her body. She lifted her hands, saw they were shaking then tried to bury them back in the blankets. Her stomach lurched.

  She pulled herself to a seated position, looking at her bedside clock. It read 10:03. She felt the truth in her bones. She was now seventeen, and whatever would happen was happening now.

  A vibrating sensation started in her toes, then moved up her body. In a matter of frightening seconds, her whole body tingled.

  “What’s happening?” Fear settled cold and hard in her belly. She tried to stand, but was overwhelmed by a torrent of sound.

  “Oscail an doras! Oscail an doras!” Voices surrounded her, filling her head with strange words. Her head ached like it did when she saw Rylan, a drummer inside her head beating its way out. The birds outside grew restless: scratching, clawing, and squawking in the night air. Shadows filled her room, moving and twisting.

  She jumped out of bed and backed against the window. The shadows filled in, details forming: clothes, skin, hair. They were people; wispy, dark, gossamer, but actually there in her room. They moved toward her, begging and pleading for something. She didn’t understand their words.

  She
put her hands in front of her. “Stop! Please!”

  As she did, purple light shot out of her hands. The shadows recoiled. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” she cried. She pulled her hands back and turned them palms up. A purple flame pulsed in the palm of each hand, twisting and rolling like fire.

  But she didn’t have time to process it. The people in her room were everywhere, some hanging off her ceiling in strange, unnatural ways. They filled the room, stacking on top of each other, occupying the whole space from the floor to the ceiling. Some had strange, ancient-looking clothes on, some had none at all. Some had normal human skin tones, and others did not.

  A very short woman with gray skin and bright pink hair grabbed her leg. “Please, open it,” she said. The top of her head came only to Celeste’s mid-thigh.

  Celeste screamed. She kicked the creature off her leg.

  She heard pounding on the door. “Ce Ce! Open this door! Are you okay?” She barely heard her dad’s voice over the shrieking, warbling creatures.

  “Dad! Help!” she screamed.

  Two loud thumps on the door. “I can’t get in. It’s jammed! What’s happening?” he yelled through the door.

  The creature grabbed her leg and pulled hard, sending Celeste flying to the floor. She landed on something squishy, and it screamed in protest. She screamed along with it.

  Something yanked on her left arm and shoulder, pulling her to her feet. A cold hand covered her face.

  “Celeste, look at me,” the voice said.

  She focused on the source of the voice. Rylan. Half in, half out of her window. He dropped his hand from her mouth.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “No time. You need to come with me.” He extended his hand, green eyes blazing.

  She hesitated, glancing at her door, where the pounding caused by her father’s attempts to enter grew louder and louder.

  “He can’t help you. I can.”

  She took his hand.

  He clapped his other hand over hers, then lifted her up and out through her window. She landed hard on the grass, panting, surprised at his strength. The crows flew in big black circles above them.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Run.”

  She followed him into the darkness.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  He didn’t say anything, but he kept moving through the line of trees surrounding her subdivision.

  “Hey, I—” She stumbled, catching herself with her hands and knees.

  He crouched beside her. “You okay?”

  “Fine.” She pulled herself to a standing position, ignoring his offered hand.

  “I guess I kind of forgot you were in a nightgown and barefoot.” He stared down at her midnight blue painted toenails.

  She curled her toes under, meshing them into the dirt.

  He saw the look on her face. “Oh, hey. It’s okay. I’ll get you some shoes.” He rested his hand on her arm.

  When his skin made contact with hers, heat flushed up her arm. The purple flames appeared in her palms. “Oh, I…”

  He jerked his hand back. “My car’s right over there.”

  She followed him again, bare feet scraping against the dirt, leaves, and twigs from the trees. Finally, the trees gave way to the back of a strip mall. Bright streetlights crowded the medians, lighting the closed stores. A lone black sports car basked in the glow of the lights.

  “Come.” He opened the passenger door and gestured for her to get in.

  She glanced down at her scratched legs then looked at the driver’s seat.

  He was already sitting in it. He started the car, full lips, thick hair, and profile strong in the shadows.

  “How’d you do that?” she asked him.

  “What?” One side of his mouth tugged into the tiniest of smiles.

  “Close my door, cross the car, then get into the drivers seat in under a second,” she said.

  He glanced pointedly at her palms, where the purple light still flickered. “How do you do that?”

  She turned away from him and watched his reflection in her window. Tires squealed as he peeled out of the parking lot.

  “Where are we going?”

  “My house,” he said.

  She stole a look at him. “What about those things?”

  “We only have a few minutes before they find you. They travel differently from humans.”

  “What are they? What do you mean?”

  “They are Sidhe,” he said.

  “What?”

  He turned his full attention back to the road, giving her a chance to study his profile again. The silence stretched between them, but soon he parked in the driveway of an old Victorian home with peeling paint.

  “Follow me.” He led her past a columned front porch and through the unlocked front door.

  She followed him down a long dusty hallway that crowded against a steep staircase.

  He stopped in front of a door underneath the stairs. It was a small entrance, maybe four feet tall.

  “Seriously?” She paused in front of the door.

  “Trust me.” He opened the door. Dark dirt steps went down into the darkness.

  He shut the door behind him then flicked on the overhead light. It was a small space, filled with packed dirt held back by crooked wood beams. Handmade wood shelves lined the walls, some stacked with old preserve jars. He followed her eyes as they traveled around the room, finally resting on him.

  She sank to the floor. Her mind stretched past her “okay” capacity. She was close to losing it, and she knew it.

  “Most of them have a hard time coming through the earth,” he said.

  “The earth?”

  “Underground. Traveling underground.”

  “What is this?” She thrust her palms in his direction. The purple flames rolled around her hands and wrist.

  He took her hands in his, running his finger down her palms. “This, I’m not sure. I’ve not seen this before.”

  “You have no idea?”

  He pulled her off the ground until they stood across from each other underneath the naked light bulb. “It’s a manifestation of your power. I’m just not sure what that is, exactly.”

  They stood in silence. She was sure she was blushing, and the flames danced in delight on her hand.

  He dropped her hand abruptly then walked away from her, as far as he could in the small space.

  “What am I?” she asked.

  He picked up a preserve jar off the shelf, rotating it in his hand. “I’m pretty sure you’re Tuatha de Dannan.”

  “What?”

  “Tuatha de Dannan. The People of the Mists.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not getting this. Signal not received.”

  He put the jar down. “This is worse than I thought. No one, um, said anything to you? Contacted you? Explained this to you?”

  “No.”

  He paced the room.

  “What does this mean?” Tears ran down her face before she could stop them. “I feel sick. I’m followed by birds and shadows and nightmares. And then there’s this!” She thrust her hands out.

  He stayed where he was.

  She dropped her face into her hands. After a few minutes, she calmed down enough to lift her head.

  He was sitting next to her again. “It means you help the Sidhe cross back and forth to the other world. It means you keep the bad ones in other world. It means you have a great power.”

  “What does that mean? What are Sidhe?”

  “Those that can cross over between this world and the next. Some of them look human, some look quite different, like the ones in your room. Most are benevolent. Some are not,” he said.

  “Why are they around me?”

  “Because you are Tuatha de Dannan. Your ability to open the portal between this world and the next was activated when you turned seventeen. They are following you because some want your help to get out of the other world, othe
rs want to go back.”

  “What? This doesn’t make any sense. This isn’t right.” She scooted away from him. “No. Not happening.”

  “Stay calm. I’ll explain everything I can,” he said.

  She jumped away from him. “Wait a second, how can I tell who wants in and who wants out? This is crazy.”

  He was still crouched on the floor, even though she wasn’t there anymore. “I don’t know. I don’t know how it works.”

  “Then how do you know what I am?” she asked.

  “Because I can sense it, just as you could sense me. You know, with your headaches.”

  “Sense what?” she asked. “What exactly are you?”

  He didn’t respond.

  Her feet tapped with the urgency to move. She made a perimeter around the room with her feet, heel to toe. She closed her eyes, relaxed her arms at her sides, palms up. When she completed the circle, she opened her eyes.

  Rylan stared at her.

  “What?”

  “How did you know how to do that?” he said.

  She looked down. Purple flames had traveled from her palms, wrapping luminous purple light around her arms. On the ground, a faint purple light marked the circle she’d drawn with her feet. She put her arms in front of her face, watching the light shimmer on her skin. “What did I do?”

  He closed the space between them and grabbed her arm. He stared at the shimmery purple on her skin then bent over to examine the glowing line on the floor.

  “I think this is protecting us,” he said. “Do you feel better?”

  She went through her internal system check. Headache: gone. Voices: gone. Nausea: gone. Even the sting from the scratches on her feet had lessened. “Yes. I think I do.”

  “Whoa. I guess I’m okay because I’m on the inside.”

  “Why? What are you?”

  He backed away from her, but she caught his arm, the purple flames lapping at his skin. “Tell me.”

  He pulled out of her grasp then used two fingers to trace a line down her arm, from the inside of her elbow to her wrist. “I’m half-Sidhe, half-human.” He pressed his palm against hers. “The result of an unholy union.” He met her eyes again. “This stuff feels incredible, almost like static electricity.” His eyes were their usual bright green, but flecks of gold sparkled in his retina. “Wow,” he whispered.