Page 19 of The Scald Crow
“Excuse me?” Curiosity flickered in those uncommon eyes.
“I saw you at the pub last night.” I studied her, debating the pros and cons of sharing my soul with a being such as her. To ask anything of Them came with inherent risks.
“Yes, I remember. Do you know Saoirse?” She lowered her eyelashes, her gaze calculating. So like Them.
I stood my ground—now was not the time to falter.
“Yes, I know, Saoirse.”
The icy breath of winter brushed my face, the chill paralyzing. Suspicions confirmed. Magic emanated from her—Faerie magic. I exhaled through my nose, allowing my limbs to lengthen and my joints to relax. There were no wards against her kind. I had learned long ago to submit.
I opened my mind and gave her what she sought—the truth. After so many years, I had nothing to hide. I allowed my thoughts to drift, showing her Saoirse lying in my arms, her hair flowing over her shoulders. She was mine, and I was hers. There would never be another. I lived in those lost moments. They were all I had left.
Saoirse and I had a future—‘had’ being the operative word. I bear the blame. Could I change the past and undo that moment? For them to know I lived? What horrors would it put them through? Maybe she would help, if not for me, then for Saoirse.
“Not without divine intervention,” I murmured under my breath—seven years lost because of my arrogance.
The icy hand released me, replaced by the sounds and smells of my father’s house. My knees buckled.
“What’s that?” She tilted her head and touched the casket’s edge with her fingers, drawing the shadows to her. I watched as they clung to her, becoming part of her. I realized one thing. She was neither of the mortal realm nor entirely of the other.
The clouds shifted, and an imperceptible mist crept through the open window and slithered across the floor. My return to the Other Realm drew near. There was a time when I believed escape could be achieved.
I joined the dance, leaving my beautiful Saoirse behind. I walked across the realms of my own volition without thinking about the repercussions. Any fool knew the consequences of mixing with the Faerie folk. I trusted those I thought were friends, arrogant in my confidence. I learned too late who and what they truly were.
“Have you ever made a poor decision?” I debated asking that strange being for what? Redemption?
“Yeah…lots.” She laughed. “Have you spoken to them? I mean, most things can be fixed, one way or the other. Tit for tat, if you know what I mean.” She spoke in melodic, enchanting tones.
I pitied the mortal who fell under her spell.
“No. It goes way beyond.” I pressed my hands flat against the wall.
I glanced for the last time at my father, finding solace in one truth. His spirit had found its way to a better place. I could only hope for the same grace.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Her angel voice channeled darkness into light. My heart leaped, filled with an emotion I had for so long refused to entertain.
She was not like Them. She was something more.
* * *
Colm
A gentle breeze carried a voice, enchanting my mind and transporting me to a place where shadows dwelled. Next to my father’s casket stood the woman of my dreams. Her black mane swept into an intricate Celtic knot. An oversized black sweater of the finest weave hugged her upper thighs, and black tights clung to well-formed legs. I stared too long at the sparkling white running shoes, replaying the moment we met. She had worn white shoes then, although they were barely recognizable.
The brass wall sconces cast a golden light, illuminating her from behind and forming a halo around her silhouette. She reminded me of a dark angel. Her mouth intrigued me—how her bottom lip pouted beyond her upper lip. Her mere presence exuded mystery.
“They say they live within you. Right here.” She lifted her hand, catching a pocket of air. “I like to believe their spirits are never far.” She looked away, her smile touching every corner of the room.
I had no intention of seeking her out, but now the improbable seemed possible. There she was, standing before me. I smiled, wondering if she often talked to herself.
My skin prickled beneath the starched dress shirt. The suit jacket I wore seemed suddenly too tight. I cleared my throat.
“Hello, Calla.” My voice cracked. Was it only yesterday I had driven her into town? Lack of sleep, combined with grief-laden guilt, left my thoughts muddled. Or perhaps it was the whisky. I stared, bleary-eyed, only half myself.
“Colm, I’m sorry. Sorry for your loss. How are you?” Her voice washed over me. Soothing. Sultry.
I didn’t know what to make of that subtle gesture. But then a smile lit up her eyes.
