Secret Worlds (109 page)

She’d never heard Kyle speak more than a sentence at a time, and when he did speak, it was either gibberish or something to do with herbs or fairies. Claribel had probably filled his head with her nonsense. So what was going on here?

“Okay, get in.” She unlocked the car and called Michael on the cell phone – in case Kyle started any funny business. He sat down and Skye held up the phone. “I’m talking to my brother,” she informed him. Actually, Michael hadn’t answered her call but she carried on a make-believe conversation while she drove to McDonalds. A girl couldn’t be too careful these days. She continued the pretend conversation until they got inside the restaurant.

She made her way to the front counter. “What do you want to drink?”

“I’ve got it.” He cut her off and stepped up to the counter. “Coffee?”

Skye nodded and watched, amazed, as he ordered the drinks and paid. When had he learned to function so well? Was the whole autism thing some kind of charade? She followed him silently to a table in the far back; they were the only ones in the joint. She gratefully accepted the coffee, put in some sugar and cream, and wrapped her cold hands on the steaming cup.

This day was too weird.

Kyle sipped the coffee, then set it down and stared at her. “You must realize by now. I’m not Kyle.” He held out his right hand, palm down, exposing an unusual tattoo just above his wrist. “Bet he doesn’t have a mark on him like this.”

Skye stared down at it, instantly recognizing a Celtic knot design that formed a wreath around a tall black feather. She returned his gaze. Now that she was so close and really paying attention, she noticed physical differences she’d missed when he – whoever
he
was – came in the shop before. Because this was definitely not Kyle. Not only was this person’s hair a bit longer and straighter, his jaw and bone structure were more chiseled. And those chocolate brown eyes were flecked with specks of topaz, their intense expression a stark contrast to Kyle’s blank, far-off look. Kyle seldom looked at anyone directly, a trait common with persons with autism, according to the group home staff who had found him the job.

“I’ve heard everyone has a twin, but this is ridiculous. Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t Kyle when you came in the shop?”

He took a sip of the steaming coffee, not answering right away. He set the cup down and returned his focused gaze on her. “My name is Kheelan. When I went to the store and everyone called me ‘Kyle’ it freaked me out. Still does.”

Skye nodded. “It would me too. I’ve had people mistake me for someone else, but it would be pretty bizarre to have everyone call me by another name, and all in one day at that.” He continued to regard her steadily, as if trying to read her mind. It made her uneasy. “You should have spoken up yesterday.”

He nodded. “True. But you were the first person to call me Kyle.” He took a long swallow of his drink. “Besides, I wanted to get to know you.”

“Me?’ She laughed shakily, but had to admit she was extremely flattered, especially after Tanner’s rejection. Her already fragile self-esteem had taken a major hit.

Wake up and smell the coffee. Something is off here
. But . . . he was damn good-looking and seemed interested. Too bad it couldn’t have been Tanner. Thoughts of Tanner’s brush-off kiss sent a surge of anger and hurt all over. She brushed it off. “So the only way to meet me is to stalk me after dark and pull me over in a rainstorm? Unusual way to impress a girl.” She was gratified to see a muscle twitch in his jaw. Let him be the one caught off guard.

“I didn’t say I knew how to make a
good
impression.”

The humor was unexpected and Skye laughed in relief. After the weird happenings at the shop it was fun to sit in a McDonalds and have a good-looking guy hit on her. This kind of thing didn’t happen often. Okay, it had never happened before. Everyone at her old high school thought she was strange, and she’d only had eyes for Tanner anyway.

Kheelan smiled in return and Skye caught her breath. His dark brown hair, nearly shoulder-length, was thick and his eyes matched the darkness of his hair—he was damn handsome. Kyle had never affected her this way—his looks and behaviors were otherworldly and airy. But even with the shared physical features, Kheelan radiated strength and intelligence.

“Tell me about yourself,” he prompted. “All I know is that your name’s Skye.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How did you know that?”

“You introduced me to Tanner, remember? And I heard someone call you that in the store, the girl with the black hair that never smiles.”

“That would be Glenna.”

“How did you come to work in that kind of a store?” he asked. “It’s the sort of place that attracts –” he hesitated slightly, “people with unusual beliefs.”

This time it was Skye who took a long sip of coffee before answering. No way would she tell him she was a witch, even if she did suck at it. She skirted around the issue.

“I’m a poor student and I need the money.” She shrugged. “Besides, I’ve always liked crystal jewelry and Claribel sells lots of it.”

“Claribel?” He arched a dark eyebrow. “That can’t be her real name.”

“She’s the owner.” Skye cocked her head to the side. “I never questioned whether it’s her real name or not. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was made up. It fits the name of the store though, a fairy-sounding name.”

“After seeing her in action yesterday, I think Claribel should have named her shop ‘The Mad Fairy’ instead of ‘The Green Fairy’.”

Skye laughed and tried to swallow at the same time, ending up coughing. She wiped her face with a paper napkin.

“Is that a marketing move or does she think fairies are real?” he asked.

Kheelan smiled and Skye felt most of her apprehension melting away.

“Oh, she believes they’re real. She sets out food and water for them at night and blames them for every lost item in the store.” Skye grinned expectantly at Kheelan but he stared back without a glimmer of amusement this time.

“And you?” His voice softened, grew husky. “Do you believe in fairies?”

Skye returned his serious gaze. Maybe customers of metaphysical bookstores were open to the supernatural. She wasn’t in podunkville anymore, didn’t have to watch every word so carefully for fear of being branded and ridiculed. She drew a deep breath. “I’ve never seen one but who’s to say there aren’t things out there,” she gestured to the window reflecting the night’s storm, “forces, energies we can’t see with human eyes.”

He didn’t laugh at her or flash her a get-real look, a novelty in her limited experience with the opposite sex. It was liberating.

Neither spoke. The rain was loud on the roof and they were sheltered together in warmth and light. It was strangely intimate. Her skin prickled and her insides warmed. She could be near him all night, and not drink in enough of his presence. What would it be like to spend the night with a man like Kheelan? Not that she had any experience. She’d protected her precious virginity in a stubborn insistence to save it for Tanner.

Who evidently didn’t appreciate the sacrifice.

Kheelan cleared his throat and heat flamed her cheeks. Thank the goddesses that thoughts were silent. What would he think of her sexual musings?

He spoke, in a voice that was voice was heavy and velvet smooth.

“You may or may not have seen them with your eyes, Skye, but you know they’re real.” The golden flecks in those dark eyes danced.

“I do?” It came out as a whisper.

““You’ve felt . . . something. Anything unusual going on in that store? Pinpoints of light, unexplained sounds, whispers of something brushing your skin . . .?”

She paled. The humming, the floaters, the feel of a light pressure on her eyelids and in her hair, the high-pitched buzz of ‘helpmehelpmehelpme.’ Fairies?

The room spun and she gripped the edge of the table for stability. His hands settled on her shoulders, hot and heavy. His touch stabilized her senses like an anchor in a storm at sea.

WTF? What The Fairy
? She glared at him. The little fantasy game of romance was over. Kheelan, or Kyle, or whatever his real name might be, had sought her out for information, not because he was interested in her as a person. “Who are you really?”

“I’m someone who has lived with the fairies all my life.”

Kheelan inwardly cursed. He was blowing it. Skye had a temper to match the red hair and she was furious. If he had more time, he could go slower, not play his hand so quick. But Samhain, All Hallow’s Eve, was only nine days away. He’d intended to petition Queen Corrigan of the Seelie Court
this year for his freedom after breaking the case on the mysterious Fae murders. If he were lucky, Corrigan, in a rare fit of kindness and gratitude, might actually agree to a release.

Then he’d walked into The Green Fairy and everything changed. He’d seen
her
. If he could convince Skye to help him, his chance for freedom increased substantially.

And even before he saw her rainbow-colored aura, he had been attracted to the girl, no point in denying that.

He drank in her nearness. Unlike the fairy lovers the Sidhe occasionally selected and rewarded him with, Skye was so . . . real, so earthy. The band of light freckles across her nose drove him to distraction. It was all he could do not to reach out and touch the tip of her nose. Kheelan deliberately lowered his gaze to her hands. She had beautiful, smooth skin but he was drawn to a couple of scratch marks on her right palm. Beauty in imperfection. He wondered how she got the scratches. He couldn’t help himself; he reached out and lightly traced the all-so-human mark. Her hand was warm, not the frosty perfection of the Fae.

A million times more exciting than any Fae woman. Did she feel that same electric energy he did at their contact?

Skye jerked her hand away as if she were near a coiled rattlesnake.

Disappointment doused his inner flame. No one had ever wanted him his whole life. Why should she be any different? Best to focus on his task. The whole point of meeting her was to win her trust and approval, not become enchanted with her. He had a mission to accomplish and nothing was going to stop him.

He lifted his eyes and looked into the forest-green of hers. She was so open. He could plainly read fear, confusion and mistrust.

“Who are you really?” she repeated. “I don’t get what you mean about living with them all your life.”

Good question. He didn’t even have a last name. The Fae didn’t think he was important enough to grant him that. Fine, bestowing him a last name would be another lie heaped upon the whole rotten pile of deceit.

“I told you, I’m Kheelan.” He had better get the subject off himself, quick. It was too early to reveal everything about who and what he was. First, he had to convince Skye about the existence of the Fae. No small task since as a changeling he possessed no power of his own. He couldn’t snap his fingers and demand a fairy materialize. “You’ve seen something. I can tell by your eyes.”

“I saw nothing until you started showing up,” she accused. Those green eyes flashed again in anger. “Are you playing tricks with me?”

Kheelan raised his shoulders in a shrug of innocence. “No tricks. I’ve only been in the store once, remember?”

She frowned. “Maybe you really are Kyle, maybe you’ve been fooling us all along and there’s not a thing in the world wrong with you. And now, for some reason, you’ve chosen to reveal the real you.”

“That would be an elaborate trick, and one I can easily disprove.”

“Oh yeah, how?” She folded her arms and sat back, challenging him.

“I could come in this weekend when Kyle’s working.” Kheelan ached to do just that, but it was too early. If he showed up unannounced, he would tip his hat to the pixie murderer. It was always best to remain in the shadows and blend in as much as possible. Because after tonight, he was sure he was in the right place. The fairy’s cross crystal under his shirt had detected the malevolent aura of bad Fae who had shape-shifted into human form. But he didn’t know which person, or persons, in the shop was his target. But he would find out. And having a ‘twin’ brother at the shop confirmed something sinister was going on there. The Mad Fairy indeed. As owner, Claribel was first on his list of murderer suspects.

“Sounds like a start,” Skye said, her voice tired and flat.

He would find an excuse later to get out of meeting Kyle. At least until she trusted him and could arrange a private meeting between them. If people in the store saw them together there would be questions. Any bad Fae around would immediately suspect the truth.

Kheelan watched as she dug through her purse and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. “Hard day?”

“Just a backache, I get them all the time. Scoliosis.”

He held out his hand, palm up. “Could you spare a couple?” All that manual labor in the winter garden the past two days had got to him. He was used to hard labor, but he’d grown a bit soft the last six months during Finvorra’s term as Guardian. Other Guardians, not the boozing kind, had worked him sunup to sundown.

Skye was careful to drop the pills in his open palm with no accidental touching. Doubt crept into him. Skye acted cautious, fragile, timid . . . very human. Had he been wrong that she was ‘The One’ of legend?

He immediately squashed the doubt. She had to be.

There was possibly a way to find out more. Unfortunately, he needed to wait until Finvorra was good and soused for the night to read up on the legend. For the past two days, he’d been uncommonly sober. Damn him. Rhoswen and her friends Maevea and Gwenllyn had popped by for a visit at the cottage, seen Finvorra stumbling about clutching a nearly empty whiskey bottle, and read him the riot act. Now his Guardian was sulky and irritable, issuing commands non-stop. Rhoswen and company had left packets of seeds and flats of seedlings for a winter garden. And when night came, Finvorra had him cook, clean, shop and anything else he could think of.

Kheelan shook off the memories. The first step in his plan was to establish trust. And he was failing big-time. Intelligence, patience and determination were his strong suit. Apparently though, he was lacking in the charm department. He smiled, the most sincere and trustworthy one he could muster. “Surely, you’ve noticed unusual happenings when I wasn’t in the shop. Strange noises like the far off tinkling of bells or a flute? Floating specks of light?”