Chapter 4 Carwynn #2
The first time I worked for Lochlainn, it was a simple task.
He wanted me to track a family heirloom that’d been lost after his grandmother passed.
Being new to this place, I needed connections, and he was my ticket in.
I’d been trying to dig deeper identifying the relics in my dreams, and as the Kingpin-equivalent of Luckland, Lochlainn was the quickest way to get my foot in the door to the archives.
The collections weren’t easily accessible to the public like they’d been in the Human Realm.
It was like I’d traded in my library card for padlocks and cryptic puzzle solving.
So I agreed to work with him under the condition that he kept his mouth shut about my ability and that it got me a nice paycheck for that initial time.
When Lochlainn gave me his grandmother’s bracelet, I was able to draw in her soul long enough for him to ask a few questions. Like a fuzzy, long-distance phone call, she answered with a single word—a name. Probably another relative who was still holding onto the heirloom.
The job was easy peasy. And, at the time, he seemed genuinely grateful for my help. But I could already sense where the next task was going to be for me tonight . . . to a decapitated body.
“We should look for tracks where he was found. Maybe your men can get a scent of something.” Pogue said sternly.
Finley and Keeffe shared a look, then turned back to Lochlainn.
A scent? As in like . . . sniff, sniff?
Tweed lapels straighten, Lochlainn sitting up. He fixed himself cheerily, which was totally at odds with the current situation.
“I have an even better plan. We’ll ask Quinley ourselves!”
Everyone was dumbfounded. Outside of entertaining the idea that Lochlainn had lost his fucking mind, they were obviously curious how he planned on making a decapitated man talk.
Then—his eyes pinned me in place.
No. Fuck. No, no, no.
“This is where Carwynn comes in.” He nonchalantly gestured to me, as if he didn’t just shatter the promise to keep his mouth shut.
An eerie quiet swept over the room. Slowly, every head turned in my direction. Faces plastered with confusion, then shock. Their eyes glued to me like I was some rare creature thought to have been extinct.
I could feel the sharp heat of panic rising, as if I were about to shatter into a hundred shards of glass. I wanted to punch Lochlainn so hard he’d be able to use his teeth as chips in a game.
Outside of my roommates, only Lochlainn knew I was a Soulsayer—the rare Hallow Land gift to speak with the dead.
But now he outed me to the entire room. And not only that, it’d take them a whole three seconds to piece together exactly where I was born.
I was supposed to be flying under the radar, keeping my ability, my birthplace, and especially my mother’s identity under wraps.
How could he ambush me like this? What happened to him being a man of his word?
Blue eyes locked on to me, handsome face included. Pogue gaped, as if he’d only just noticed me for the first time. The strange look that flickered across his face sent a jolt up my spine. Were those shadowed features shock? Concern? The hell if I knew.
“Ya serious?” someone shot out.
“Luck be damned!”
It felt like a red-hot spotlight was slowly scorching my skin, self-consciousness blistering at the surface. Too much attention, too many eyes.
How. Could. He. Do. This?
My lungs went into a frenzy of contractions, stealing my air.
He had no idea what he just did! If what and who I was became public knowledge and spread, the Skell King would find out that the girl he’d killed all those years ago was still, in fact, alive.
Target, meet my back—my back, meet a new target.
Maybe he wouldn’t care enough to do anything?
Or maybe he holds eternal wrath for my mother and would come finish what he started…
Or maybe—maybe I’m a complete idiot who should’ve listened to David.
A throb pounded in my temples.
I couldn’t believe how dumb, naive, and painfully trusting I’d been. I should have known better. Sleeping with him was a lapse in drunken judgment, but outside of that, I truly thought he had become somewhat of a friend. Not a close friend, but at the very least, a close-ish acquaintance.
My insides started to twist as my mind reeled, imagining all the Russian roulette outcomes to what happened if the Skell King found out.
Then, I saw images from the night he tried to kill me—the blood, the slicing pain, that skeletal face. Waves of panic crashed over me.
I felt darkness move within me. It was waking. Stretching.
No, no, no! I couldn’t lose control. Not now, not again . . .
The last episode I had was at university in the Human Realm.
I dumbly fell ass over tit for a guy. Followed him around like a love-sick puppy, lapping up every one of his sweet lies.
Giddy jitters, butterflies, finishing each other’s thoughts—I had every horrible symptom.
But that love hit me like a concrete revolving door.
I found out it wasn’t love at all—it was a trap, a game, a source of his entertainment.
I’d decided to stay in one night, but changed my mind last minute, wanting to surprise him at the bar. That’s when I saw him through the window—kissing her—the her he said feelings were long dead and buried for. I realized then, that I was the pathetic placeholder.
I lost control. Completely snapped.
Shadows crept down the street, crawling up the walls. All at once—the bar windows shattered, blasting shards of glass everywhere. People were hurt.
But that wasn’t even the worst of it. No, the worst was the screaming. Slowly, one after another, people started screaming, sobbing, shouting uncontrollably. As if I were a disease, my hysteria infecting them like a poison.
Calm down. Deep breath.
I tried to forget all the eyes that were on me, tried to forget the room I was in, tried to forget the sting of broken trust.
But soon voices escalated in my mind . . .
Always too trusting.
Always too forgiving.
Always a pretty little doormat.
Enough!
My eyes pierced into Lochlainn, daggers taking aim at his thick skull.
He stared back, grin fading.
That strange, ancient part of me cracked its neck.
Pogue shifted in his seat, brows drawn. He scanned me as if he could see something no one else could.
I didn’t need to look around to notice the room was dimming. The lamp above faintly squeaked as it started to sway side to side.
Keeffe’s face drained of color as he looked up at the shifting light fixture.
“Souls have mercy,” he whispered.
Finley stilled across from me. His mouth slightly opened to speak, but nothing came out.
“What is this?” A shaky voice demanded.
Lochlainn looked around the shadowed room warily. He raised his hands up in truce.
“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean offense.” There was caution behind his golden eyes. “Figured if I knew what ya were, it would only make sense my men should know as well since you’ve decided to work with us. Ya know, team effort and all of that shite.” He added a regretful smirk for good measure.
Lies.
Gobble up those sweet lies.
Naive, lost girl.
Shut up! I screamed internally.
I just wanted the intrusive voices to stop. It was always hardest to keep them out when I was overwhelmed.
My strength started to crumble as the buried emotions bubbled to the surface like a predator on the hunt. My heart angrily beat as if daring me to do it, do it, do it!
Surrounding noises suddenly muted. The room became a blur, and I could feel myself growing distant.
Until a cool, firm hand grabbed my own from under the table.
The world froze.
Pogue.
Concern. Those eyes had real concern swirling within them. Not for himself, though. Somehow, I could feel it.
His hand soothingly tightened.
“Carwynn.” My name on his lips was a statement. Something lost, now found.
He lowered his voice, shoulder brushing my back as he inclined his head.
“The last time you laughed—really laughed. Find that moment and hold it.”
What? What was he talking about?
He nodded his head.
“Do it. Hold onto it.”
Something had changed in his eyes, but I wasn’t sure what.
Looking down, I thought back to the month prior.
Breena, Aine, and I had a girls’ night. Somehow human traditions came up, and I tried explaining what Christmas and Santa were. They absolutely lost it. Breena went into a snorting fit, and Aine laughed so hard tears streamed down her face.
Aine kept yelling, “Why would you be excited for a creepy old man dressed in fur to break into your house in the middle of the night?”
Breena chimed in that it could be “some human kink thing.”
Thanks to the Si fairy cider, all hopes of them not turning Santa into some kinky human fetish went out the window. The more they misunderstood the holiday, the more I barreled over in hysterical laughter myself.
I held onto that memory—the feeling of love and pure joy. It poured in, opening like a floodgate. Slowly, the darkness receded, drifting off. The creature inside seemed to lull back to sleep, the emotions soothing it like a bedtime story.
The room brightened. The muffled noises sharpened, returning to normal.
Baffled, I stared back at Pogue’s handsome face.
He’d helped me.
“Thank you,” I whispered without a second thought.
The comforting coolness of his hand slipped away.
“You’re not the only one who’s been strangled by their own magic,” Pogue replied. “I’ve been there.” He turned back toward the others.
The room came back in full clarity. Multiple eyes were still locked in my direction.
“Hey . . .” Finley leaned over the table, looking as if he’d said it multiple times already. “Carwynn? Ya all right?”
I drew in a breath.
“Yeah, sorry.” I looked down at my hands, then back up. “Better now. I was—caught off guard. My control slipped.”
I needed to learn to control my ability, now more than ever. What had just happened was nothing—nothing in comparison to what it could’ve been.
It’d been a while since that creature, that darkness slipped out. Tonight marked the third time ever. The second from that douchebag in college, and the first, well, that was the day my abilities awoke.
The ghost of that memory lurked in the shadows of my mind.