5. Cormac
Cormac
I followed David and our group out of the Cathedral. It had been at least a hundred years since I had been here. Concrete paths now ran where dirt had once rested beneath my feet, and electric lights ensured mortals did not have to bring a flashlight. But the rugged beauty of the cavern remained. It seemed odd that the woman was staying behind. I overheard her telling our guide her head hurt, but her body echoed with the heightened heartbeat of a lie.
She had been a distraction from the moment I saw her. Her long brown hair, so dark it was nearly black, created a backdrop for her brilliant green eyes. Her ivory skin was smooth and beautiful. A luminescence glowed from within. There was something about her, something dangerous to people of my kind—captivating and alluring. Her simple black tank top and fitted pants showed her toned, athletic form. She wore several necklaces with charms of stones or symbols. I did not want to trifle with this woman, but her determination to stay in that room piqued my curiosity.
I caught up to David at the front of our group and cleared my throat. “Excuse me. Is there a reason she’s not coming with us?”
David nodded. “She doesn’t feel well. She’ll find her way out once she feels better.”
“Are you sure that’s safe?” I wanted to convince him that abandoning her was a bad idea. I didn’t think the situation warranted the use of compulsion. There were other, easier ways to handle it.
“It happens all the time,” he repeated. “She’ll be just fine. In the meantime, why don’t we continue ahead so we can see everything on our list?” His charming smile may have drawn many to his agenda, but it had the opposite effect on me.
“I think I’m going to find her,” I said. “I would hate for her to stumble while unwell.” A nervous pit opened in my stomach, but the reason for it eluded me.
The guide shrugged. “If you insist, but I’m sure she’s okay.”
“I insist. I hope you all enjoy the rest of your tour.” I turned on my heel before he could reply and retraced my steps.
When I returned to the Cathedral, the woman was nowhere to be found, confirming my suspicions. We had left less than five minutes prior. It would have been a miraculous recovery had she been fine. What was she here for? And why was I so drawn to her?
Concern grew in my throat as I replayed the interaction before she stayed. She had reacted to the story about my family, yet there was no reason for anyone to believe a story on a ghost tour.
I walked over to the bench where she had rested and inhaled deeply. It was easy to scent her with her sensual perfume of rose water and oranges. I hurried across the chamber to the tunnel David had pointed out—the one I intended to travel without her. Sure enough, her fragrance graced the pitch-black opening.
The darkness was no issue for my capabilities as I hurried down the hallway. I thought back one hundred and fifty years to when my brothers and I had last been here. Declan had just joined our family, my brother Aiden begging my father to allow us to turn him. Turning a human was never something my family did lightly even though we had benefited immensely from our vampiric gifts—at least until a hundred years ago. Loneliness radiated through my core as my other brothers’ faces, Lorcan and Conall, came to mind. I shook the memories away, but one remained.
Lorcan, Conall, and I had challenged Aiden and Declan to a ludicrous game of hide-and-seek. As a baby vampire, Declan was just learning how to use his abilities. The cave was an exciting place to train him because of the number of obstacles and lack of sunlight. At the end of that game, Declan found my two brothers and me waiting in the room I was headed to now. His reward was a beautiful blond woman compelled to sit silently and without fear. As the winner, Declan imbibed in her delectable blood first. Afterward, we each took turns sipping on the sweet, life-giving nectar. We guided her from the cave but not before my father found us.
He was angrier than I had seen him in quite some time. He reminded us that this one chamber, an unmistakable dead end, had become sacred ground to our family. It was to be respected like we respected our family home in Ireland—Dún Na Farraige. We were never told why, simply that it held great power. Why had it become sacred? And why had my parents never told me, their eldest son? I vowed to find out, but first, I had to find the woman.
I was pulled from the thoughts in my head when, in the distance, I heard the scraping of small stones followed by a terrified scream. David had accurately described the way ahead as treacherous and unsafe. From the broad path I was on, it narrowed before turning into a steep hill. At the bottom was a twenty-five-foot drop onto the stones below. The plunge was nothing for a vampire, but for humans, it was quite dangerous. I ran toward the scream, stopping just short of the ledge.
I teetered on the edge of the precipice. If I turned back now, it would be days until anyone found her. I drew in the air through my nose. There wasn’t a hint of fear, just the natural bouquet of rose water and oranges her blood gave off, which caused a tingle in my gums. I could drain her and make it look as though the fall killed her. I shook the thought from my head as I peered over.
As I feared, the woman lay in the chamber below, incapacitated. I jumped down, landing like a feather beside her. Next to her lay a small flashlight, not nearly enough for caves such as this. No wonder she hadn’t seen the cliff. The unconscious woman’s weakened pulse reached my ears as I noticed her leg bent at an odd angle. Her backpack had saved her, pulling her onto her back and cushioning her head as she hit the ground. I looked at the side of the bag and found a bottle of water, which I used to wet my hands and massage her pulse points.
When my hands touched her skin, a soft moan slipped from her lips. Relief surged through me, but it tangled with a gnawing unease that refused to let go. I was too drawn to her—an unfamiliar ache spread in my chest. Why did she matter so much? I should be focused on finding whatever the ailm on Isla’s map marked in this cavern, not the gentle rise and fall of this woman’s breath or the curve of her lashes against her cheek.