53. Of Kisses and Curses
53
OF KISSES AND CURSES
Do you lock yourself up from me to make me more curious?
— WILLIAN CONGREVE, THE WAY OF THE WORLD
“ I don’t think you need Yeats on this trip, Cass. It’s only for a few days.”
Jonathan stood in the doorway of my bedroom, hands braced on the lintel while he watched me pack the few things I’d need to meet the Council of the Magi.
So far, my inventory included a change of clothes, a dress for my appearance, toiletries and pajamas, my journal, and The Wanderings of Oisin . and Other Poems .
We had waited an extra day to leave. While Caitlin remained anxious about us arriving on time, the fact was that once we were off the island, the bulk of the trip would only take a few relatively short steps: two hours to Dublin from Galway, another private flight to Newcastle upon Tyne, and from there, a completely reasonable drive into Northumberland.
In other words, Jonathan had bought me some time with his excuses.
Time I hadn’t yet figured out how to use.
“Yeats is essential on every trip,” I informed him. “His wisdom is infinite.”
For that, I earned a hint of a smile, which was all I needed to open my book and narrate:
‘Put off that mask of burning gold
With emerald eyes.’
‘O no, my dear, you make so bold
To find if hearts be wild and wise,
And yet not cold.’
I looked up and grinned. “See? Put down the mask, Jonathan. Yeats says so.”
His green eyes glimmered. Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he crossed the room in three long strides, took up my chin, and kissed me.
It lasted three seconds. And in those three seconds, I forgot where I was, lost in the calm peace that, for whatever reason, the sorcerer’s embrace seemed to bequeath.
Then he ended it and stepped away to adjust his glasses, and I was back in my own body, albeit substantially unmoored.
“What…what was that for?”
His smile turned sheepish. “Sorry.”
“You say that so much. Don’t be sorry. Just tell me why.”
A brow arched. “You’re very brave to be doing this. And you are magnetic when you read poetry.” His hand brushed my hip. Not to mention incredibly beautiful.
My mouth fell open at the compliment. Those emerald eyes were drawn to the motion, and he kissed me again. This time, I was ready for it.
Several more seconds later, we broke, breathing heavily.
“I’m really starting to hate it when you do that,” I told him.
Jonathan tipped his head with a smirk. “I forgot. You’re not sure you even like me.”
I shoved half-heartedly at his chest. “It’s very confusing.”
He chuckled. “Truer words. For what it’s worth, I feel the same way. I wish I could tell you I’ll stop completely, but as you see, I can’t. I’m a moth to the flame, eager to be singed.”
That was the problem. We were both fully aware of the consequences of our potential union and at the same time, unable to stay apart. Every kiss was playing with fire, and with each one, the flame was stoked just a little higher.
His nose touched mine. “We should talk about it some more.”
Now you want to talk?
His internal laughter was a shadow in the back of my mind. Wouldn’t mind. Now that I don’t have to hide the truth, it’s oddly liberating .
For some reason, his optimism about the situation irked me.
I sighed, biting back the urge to drag his mouth to mine all over again. “What else is there to say? We’re stuck in this limbo with lovely but ultimately unsatisfying kisses until, what, four years are up, and then we’re doomed to have a bunch of babies and die prematurely?” I shook my head. “I don’t even know if I want children, and I don’t think that’s what you want either.”
“Well, not right now, I suppose.” He didn’t look entirely convinced. In fact, the mention of children seemed to make him glow.
I gave his chest a gentle shove. “You need to slow down whatever biological clock started ticking when you met me. Pretty sure you want to make it to your two hundredth birthday.”
“And you don’t?”
I looked out the window, where the golden tips of overgrown grass waved in the sea breeze. “Would I be crazy to say I’m not sure?”
Caomhán’s words kept circling back to me. Despite the constant warnings from the seers and sorcerers that I could not, under any circumstances, sacrifice my longevity, I had the sneaking suspicion that fighting this bond was tantamount to not really living at all. After spending the first twenty-nine years of my life living in black and white, Jonathan’s touch made me feel like I was seeing color for the first time.
I considered Kilronan, the big house with the jumbled family, full of shouts and laughter and everything in between.Perhaps they didn’t live as long as their potential, but they certainly seemed to live the lives they had to the fullest.
“I would go,” Jonathan interrupted my music, though it was clear he’d felt it all. “If you want me to leave, I would do it. It should be your choice, Cass. Not just mine.”
I looked up to find those large green eyes the color of moss, begging me to fall into them, but just as scared that I might heed their call.
I reached up to stroke his cheek, and he turned his face into the touch, an uncharacteristically sweet nuzzle. “No, I don’t want you to leave. It’s hard when you’re here, but somehow it’s worse when we’re apart, I think.”
Much worse , his thoughts echoed.
We stood like that a moment more, gestating in that difficult truth until finally, Jonathan stepped out of reach.
“The least I can do is let you pack,” he said. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”
“Just what do you think you’re playing at, Jon?” Robbie’s voice floated through one of the windows from outside the house when I closed my bedroom door, backpack slung over one shoulder. “You know you shouldn’t go with us.”
A glance through the glass told me they were standing in the yard while Robbie idly pulled weeds from the kitchen garden. Jonathan’s voice murmured something incomprehensible, but the tone suggested feigned ignorance.
“Jonny, come now. Any sorcerer will know what Cassie means to you. You’re half a bleedin’ tapestry when she walks into a room, the threads fair cryin’ out for her, and hers for you as well. The Council will notice in a moment.”
“I can shield the bond,” Jonathan protested. “Secrets are my trade, as you well know.”
“That may be, but your mate’s an oracle, lad. It’s her trade to filter those secrets like water. I think you’ll find your magic changes when she’s around too. Even now, her power challenges all of ours. You’ll not be able to protect her once she’s fully manifested.”
They argued in a different language then—one that sounded like Latin but didn’t quite match the dead language I’d learned to read as an undergrad.
“I’m not going anywhere ,” Jonathan snapped, suddenly back in English. “I’ve got it under control. It’s final.”
I could easily imagine Robbie shaking his head. “You were assigned only to bring her here and find more information about your father’s whereabouts. Now you’re back and going to the Brigantian too? What does the Order say about that?”
Order ? I thought, my eyes now wide open as I listened. This was the second time I’d heard something about the mysterious Order. First in Dublin, nearly two months ago. Now today.
“The Order is finished,” Jonathan hissed. “Has been since Beatty’s death. Or haven’t you forgotten?”
“The Order doesn’t depend on a drunk murúch’s life, Jon. If it did, it wouldn’t have survived two thousand years.”
“The Council made sure of that, didn’t they?” Jonathan snarked back. “And now there’s only us and Caomhán left on the Isles, and he’s a loose cannon at best.”
“He’s also her family, and you know the murúcha . Kin is the only thing they care about. He and Aoife won’t forsake her, not knowing she’s Ciarán’s blood.”
“A fact that may cost her life in the end if we don’t manage it correctly.” Jonathan snorted. “At any rate, this bond allows me to do my job better. How many other sorcerers can read a seer’s mind? I can shield her thoughts from the other mind witches if it comes to that.”
“I hope so.” Robbie’s voice was laced with doubt. “The connection you share is rare, but you can’t control it either. Youcan’t stay away from her, nor she from you. A babe will come of it, to be sure. I hate to think what else.”
“That will not happen.”
They spoke a bit lower, mostly in Irish, but too low and fast for me to understand. Robbie’s soft voice was suddenly overlaid with an unfamiliar urgency, even with its hushed cadence.
There was no immediate response for a long time, to the point where the din of the train car and the wheels on the tracks began to roar. I was also holding my breath, trying not to be heard as I waited for a response that would clarify the parts of this conversation I couldn’t understand.
“I can’t leave her, Rob.” Jonathan’s voice was hollow as if the words came reluctantly. “I know it’s hard to understand. But everything— everything —in me says I belong with her.”
Robbie gave another heavy sigh. “I can understand it, I think. Nothing would take me from Caitlin and the girls, and we’re not even mates. Seems as much a curse as a gift.”
I strained, waiting for Jonathan to argue with the last characterization. But he didn’t.
“I’ll be careful,” was all he said in the end. “I promise. You’ll let me handle the Order then?”
“All right. But you’ll have to tell them yourself. I’m not taking that fury over your love life.”
The gentle sound of the men’s laughter echoed as they made their way back to the house. I scurried to the kitchen in the guise of getting a glass of water. In truth, just running my hands under the tap soothed me, especially after what I’d just heard. Who was this mysterious “Order” that had the right to judge Jonathan’s love life? Why wouldn’t they approve of me?
And did Jonathan really think of me as a curse?
“Ah, Cassie. Ready to go, love?” Robbie asked when they saw me standing at the sink.
I gulped down my water and nodded. “Sure. Yeah.”
Robbie went for the bag, but before he could take it, a knock, and then the sound of the front door opening interrupted us.We turned to find Caomhán and Aoife stepping over the threshold. Aoife’s silver-threaded brown hair was braided into a thick, damp rope that nearly reached her waist, and her dark eyes darted around the room like she expected a fisherman’s net.
“Hi!” I stood and went to trade kisses with both of them. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this weekend.”
“Cait at the house,” Robbie offered, and Aoife’s shoulders immediately relaxed.
“When Jonny called with the news of your travels, we swam right over,” she said.
I turned. “You called them?”
Jonathan offered a bashful shrug. “Seemed the right thing to do, to inform your family.”
I turned back to Aoife and Caomhán, who were looking around the cottage with curiosity. Aoife remarked something in Irish that made Caomhán nod.
“Sure, and it’s like they never left in the first place.” When he caught me watching them, he nodded. “Uncle and Penny. They both lived here, you know.”
I did know, having caught plenty of glimpses around the place. I tried not to See too much of my grandmother’s old life—I wasn’t entirely sure she’d want me to—but what I did See made me think they were at very least in love, if a tempestuous sort.
As mates could have.
From across the room, I felt Jonathan watching me. I avoided his gaze.
“We brought you something,” Aoife said, stepping forward as she drew a small, damp packet wrapped in plastic from her skirt pocket.
I took it from her and unwrapped it. Inside was a packet of smoked fish and a felt bag, from which I withdrew an exquisite gold vial hanging from a chain.
“The Mac Conmaras can’t be without the sea,” she told me as I fingered the delicate Celtic knot carved into the front of the vial. “So when we must leave, we take a bit of it with us.” She glanced at the ever-present bowl of water I kept on the table and smiled. “I see you’ve been doing that yourself. This might come in handy when you meet the Council. And remind you to come home too.”
“I’ll only be a few days,” I told her.
Aoife nodded, but her eyes were far away. “That’s what my uncle said too. I hope in your case, it’s true.” She pulled me in for a tight hug, and her fear swept through me like one of the waves she and her pack dove through each morning. “Kilronan’s always a home for you, should you need it.”
“Thank you, Aoife.”
She released me and went outside without another word.
Caomhán seemed to be waiting for me. “Be careful. The Brig’s full of slick wizards like your man there, but most of them don’t have his scruples, what little he’s held onto.”
“You don’t have to worry about my scruples when it comes to my mate,” Jonathan said tightly.
“Didn’t I just say as much, you stubborn shitehawk?” Caomhán retorted though he grinned at me. “If you know what’s good for you both, you’ll let go of a few of them and finish the job. She’s better off your mate than going it alone. No sense in leaving anything to doubt.”
Jonathan looked like he wanted to shed a few more scruples in Caomhán’s direction but managed to hold his tongue.
Caomhán turned back to me, and his twinkling eyes sharpened some. “Whatever you do, cousin, keep your secrets to yourself. Penny had been lost for an age—well before she ever came home to the islands. They don’t know that she was here, and they don’t know where she was with you. Your past is the only thing that belongs to you. Use your man there, and keep it safe.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
“Promise me,” he said.
“She doesn’t have to promise you anything,” Jonathan said, but Caomhán wasn’t deterred.
“Promise,” he repeated. “Keep safe. You’ll try?”
I nodded. “I promise.”
He pressed a kiss on my cheek, through which I felt several ill-mannered jokes at Jonathan’s expense.
“Tell him the good ones,” he told me, and then he was gone.
And now, it seemed the only thing left was for me to go as well.