Fairest

Chapter 19

Cillian

FOUR YEARS AGO

It’s not the first morgue I’ve walked into, and I’m pretty sure it won’t be the last, but when I see her sitting on a hard metal seat in the waiting room, a polystyrene cup of coffee cradled in her hands, I’m very glad I came to this one.

‘I’m here for her,’ I inform the receptionist, nodding towards where Niamh is sitting alone.

‘Miss Whyte?’ she asks, smiling sympathetically when I nod. ‘If you can just wait a moment.’

My fingers curl into my palms, the nails biting into my flesh as I take long, steady breaths and fight to control my anger at being told what to do. The one place I don’t want to lose it is within the human legal system. Slow and pathetic as it is.

‘Thank you,’ I say, not moving a muscle as the receptionist eyes me warily and slides the glass window closed before she goes over to speak to Niamh. Niamh jumps when the woman speaks to her, then stands up and stares at me.

When our eyes meet, I know I did the right thing coming.

I know her parents weren’t keen on her being friendly with Rose.

I’d considered going round to speak to them, do my best responsible-older-brother act to persuade them that Rose posed no risk to their daughter and that a friendship with her could potentially unlock doors for Niamh, but every time I was about to do so, something happened to distract me and now eight weeks have passed and I never will.

Niamh’s eyes never leave mine as she nods, and I’m buzzed through the security door.

‘Niamh,’ I breathe, memories of when my own parents died stirring for the first time in years.

‘You didn’t need to come,’ she whispers, tears welling in her eyes. ‘How did you—?’

‘Sean,’ I say. Sean alerted me to the fact that she was sneaking out of the hotel room to meet with the police, and after Aiden had verified the accident, I decided to come and see what the situation was first-hand.

‘Of course,’ she murmurs, looking down at the ground.

‘I’m so sorry, Niamh.’

She nods at me, and we turn as two police officers approach.

‘Miss Whyte and…?’

‘Cillian Hunter,’ I say.

The woman nods while her colleague stares at me, fascinated.

The police have never, will never, have anything concrete to charge me with.

Evidence has a habit of disappearing or eyewitnesses simply forget or recall widely different versions of events involving Kinfolk.

That is, if anyone even sees anything in the first place.

We’re ushered through to a small office and I catch Niamh’s eye to make sure she’s okay with me listening in.

I might feel as though I’ve known her forever, but we’ve only met once, and I want her to feel comfortable with my presence.

In the claustrophobic room, they go through the explanation of how Niamh will need to conduct the formal identification.

Her whole body tenses. She’s tough but I can see through her bravado to the broken-hearted soul inside.

I’m usually the one causing pain to others, so I’m not sure why I want to be the one to soothe hers now.

And yet I find myself reaching for her hand.

Her fingers slip into mine with a familiar ease, and when she glances at me, her lips slightly parted, my chest fills with an emotion I can barely contain.

* * *

Despite the mortuary assistant insisting only next of kin are allowed into the morgue, I stand my ground.

No way am I letting her go in alone. Following my own parents’ passing, I know more about the process anyway.

We follow him to a room lit by cold blue lights, which reeks of antiseptic-covered death.

Niamh rubs her arms, and I move closer, wishing I’d had someone to comfort me when I lost my father.

She leans back against me, and I don’t resist the urge to wrap my arms around her.

Niamh stares at the two covered bodies laid out on trolleys, her body suddenly leaning more heavily against mine as the tech pulls the sheet down until she can see her mother’s face.

For a moment, I think I recognise her, but I’m certain we’ve never met.

Slowly, Niamh reaches towards her, then stops.

‘Yes, that’s her.’ Her voice is barely above a whisper. ‘Can I touch her?’

‘Carefully,’ the tech answers, ‘but please don’t move the sheet.’

I allow Niamh to step away from me so she can trail her fingers down her mother’s cheek ever so gently a couple of times. Then she swallows and nods, and the tech re-covers her mother’s face. I put my arm around her shoulders as she turns to identify her father.

Tomorrow, I’ll ask Aiden to hack into the police records and find out exactly what happened.

I’ll also make sure to check any available traffic-cam footage myself.

They’ll put out an appeal for dashcam footage, though it may take a few weeks to get much response, if any.

Theirs was a common car, and there’s probably no reason for anyone to have noticed it.

The road is a quiet one, rarely with more than one vehicle on it at a time, but not so quiet that any at all are noticeable.

‘You can confirm the identities of David and Rhiannon Whyte?’ the tech asks.

Something shifts in the air, and I look around, expecting to see some sign of the Kinfolk, but there’s nothing.

Odd. Perhaps just the presence of so much death is triggering parts of my brain.

Maybe even for humans, naming the dead can have a special significance.

In the end, Niamh doesn’t say anything, just nods her confirmation.

‘Is there anything else I need to do right now?’ she asks the tech, and I have to admire the way she’s managing to compose herself.

‘Not for me, but check with reception,’ the man says. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’

She nods. Fuck, I want to pick her up and take her away from this awful place. An overwhelming need to protect her floods me, sudden and unexpected. This young woman, who I barely know, has the power to make me want to remove her pain. Abruptly, she turns away from me and moves towards the door.

‘Niamh,’ I call after her as she pushes through the door into the corridor. She takes a few steps before she stops and looks back. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, and her eyes glisten with unshed tears.

‘Let me take you home,’ I say. For a moment, I think she’s going to refuse, then she sighs, the adrenaline that’s kept her going for the last hour or two deserting her.

‘Thank you, and thank you for coming, you didn’t have to.’ She still doesn’t meet my eyes. And I wonder if she’s waiting for me to take her hand again. But I daren’t. Not here, because once I touch her, I’m not going to want to let her go.

‘What do you need me to do apart from that?’

‘Nothing, it’s fine. I don’t even know what needs to be done,’ she says, staring down at the ground.

‘I’m taking her home,’ I say to the receptionist. I can see her hesitation but the darkness in my eyes has her shrinking back in her seat.

‘They’ll send Family Liaison Officers round tomorrow to discuss the arrangements and sort out counselling, if necessary. You can help her by seeing if she knows who her family solicitor is. Do you have contact details?’

‘She’ll be here,’ I say, handing her my card, and she smiles politely and staples it to the rest of the paperwork.

‘My condolences,’ she says as we leave.

‘Thanks,’ Niamh mutters, but her blue eyes are glazed, and when I steer her over to my car, she’s trembling.

‘Come along, let’s get you home,’ I say, but it’s as if I haven’t spoken. Niamh stares straight ahead, over the roof of the car even after I open the door for her.

‘I don’t want to go home,’ she says. ‘I don’t think I can stand it—’

A sob erupts from her chest and her hand covers her mouth as if to hold back any more signs of emotion.

She reaches for the door handle but I cover her hand with mine and turn her to face me, cradling her against my body.

Her tears are silent but her body shakes with her sobs.

Damp heat blooms through the fabric of my shirt and I press my cheek to her hair, breathing in her light floral scent and wishing I could take this pain away from her.

She clings to me, as my hands skim over her back.

I ache to pull her closer but she lifts her head, her eyes red-rimmed, her lips parted as if to speak.

Instead she pushes me away, opens the car door and gets in, the door thudding behind her. I sigh and get in my side.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says, not looking at me. ‘If you wouldn’t mind driving me home, I’d appreciate it.’

‘I meant Cernunnos. You can stay with Rose for now. You should try to sleep. You must be exhausted.’

‘But—’

‘It’s easier for me this way.’

She nods, but remains bolt upright, staring out the window throughout the journey.

* * *

By the time I pull into the driveway at Cernunnos, I am deeply regretting not dragging Aiden out of his bed to drive me to the morgue.

Instead, I’ve had to sit beside Niamh the whole way home while she sat straight-backed in the passenger seat, pretending that her life hadn’t just fallen completely apart.

‘It was supposed to be me in the car tonight,’ she whispers as I pull into the garage and kill the engine.

I knew that. Rose had mentioned that Niamh was going to drive them all to Edinburgh, but I am eternally grateful to whatever changed their plans.

Although it doesn’t necessarily follow that they’d have had an accident – different road, different drive, too many variables.

‘Then I, for one, am very glad that it wasn’t.’

She turns away and stares out the window before whispering, ‘I’m not.’

I reach for her hand again and squeeze it. ‘I doubt your parents would have wanted to lose you, Niamh.’

‘Yes, I guess,’ she says, frowning. ‘But … I don’t know what I’ll do without them.

’ She turns to face me, tears slipping down her cheeks, and it reminds me of the last time I saw my sister cry.

She was much younger – only twelve – but otherwise the circumstances were similar.

Our mother died when Rose was only three, and I don’t think she remembered much about her death.

But I’d never forget the way she just fell apart when Dad was killed.

Officially, it had been a car accident, but in reality, it had been a hunt gone wrong.

And my first duty as Huntsman was to track down and kill the man who had murdered my father in cold blood.

Feelings I’ve suppressed for years rise up and threaten to overwhelm me.

The anger about what had happened, the pain of every thought of them, leading to a huge gaping rupture where my heart should be.

‘Come on, you can stay in a guest room and I’ll bring you a pair of Rose’s pyjamas. You can get changed and get into bed.’

‘I don’t want to be a bother,’ Niamh says instantly.

‘It’s not a bother.’ I don’t tell her that I want to keep her close, she’ll wonder why I’m so invested, especially given she’s so much younger than I am. I don’t want her to think my motives are anything but genuine.

‘Here, give me your phone. You can call me if you need anything during the night.’

‘Oh … okay,’ she murmurs, handing it to me.

I put in my number and hand it back as I push open the door.

I go to leave, but she reaches for me and when her warm hand touches my arm, a jolt of desire rushes through me.

I step back on instinct, and she quickly removes her hand as though by touching me she’s scolded herself. ‘Cillian…’

‘What?’

‘I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. You must think—’

‘You’re sorry?’ I look at her. Her being sorry is definitely not what I want.

‘You shouldn’t have had to drive all that way…’

I tilt my head to one side, considering.

‘You think that you can make me do something that I don’t want to do?’ My tone is harsher than I intend, and she tries to pull back, but I don’t let her.

‘Let’s get you inside.’ I lead her inside and up to one of our guest bedrooms. Leaving her to get settled, I speak to our housekeeper, then find Aiden to inform him of his latest, and urgent, task to find out everything possible about the accident.

A short while later I find myself pausing outside her door on the way back to my own room.

I should keep walking, but something about her calls to me.

Though I am not the person she should be turning to.

I knock softly on the door. ‘Niamh?’

‘Yes?’

I push open the door. She’s sitting up in bed, a steaming mug of tea beside her. Our housekeeper will have brought it up, but it remains untouched.

‘It’s supposed to be relaxing,’ I say. ‘Drink some more.’

‘I’m fine,’ she murmurs.

‘Niamh.’ My tone is sharp, but it’s enough to jolt her from her dwam. ‘Drink the tea.’

She keeps her eyes on me, wide and scared, as she reaches for the mug and drains every drop.

‘It’ll help you sleep,’ I say more gently. ‘It’s been a really tough day.’

She relaxes slightly, her gaze still on mine.

‘Things will never be the same again, will they?’ she asks quietly.

‘No, they won’t,’ I tell her.

The truth might hurt, but right now, it’s all I’ve got for her.

‘Stay with me,’ she begs and I’m unable to refuse.

She’s wearing a pair of Rose’s pyjamas, and I wish instead that I’d offered her one of my T-shirts.

When she thinks about tonight, I selfishly want it to be me she’s grateful to, not my sister.

I sit down beside her, on top of the covers once again and fighting the temptation to offer her comfort in a more physical way.

Sex is always seen as an antidote to death is it not?

‘I can’t believe they’re gone,’ she whispers and turns to face me, burying her head against my chest just like earlier.

I tip her chin up with one finger and look down into her tear-filled eyes, fighting the urge to take her mouth and more if she’ll let me.

But she’s hurting, vulnerable and no matter how much I’m drawn to her, she’s just not mine to take.

I cradle her head against my chest and kiss the top of her head, holding her as she cries.

She falls asleep soon after, but I don’t leave her side for the rest of the night.