Shine (30 page)

“After what I’ve been through—” Zachary withdrew a slim object from his shaving kit. With a click, a blade flicked out of the handle. He folded it back in, then tucked the contraption into his jacket pocket. “Can’t be too careful.”

“Do you know how to use that?”

“Of course I do.” He grinned as he helped me into my coat. “The sharp end goes into the bad guy.”

It took almost an hour of driving in the rain to find the pub, but the place was worth the search. Rather than the tiny, dark drinking hole I’d imagined, it had a full, wide restaurant with cozy, plush embroidered booths. Zachary and I grabbed one in the far corner, inside an almost gazebo-like structure. I was glad for the semiprivacy, and glad that we could sit side by side, looking out on our surroundings.

In the center of the large octagonal room, a huge iron chandelier cast overlapping patterns of light. Shadows from candle sconces danced on the walls, flickering in time to the holiday pop tunes piping over the speaker. On a small stage at the other side of the room, a three-man band was setting up their equipment.

“I hope they play something other than Christmas carols,” I said to Zachary. “You think they’ll take requests, or—”

I stopped when I saw his face. He’d closed his menu and was staring through it, flipping the cardboard coaster over and over.

Uh-oh.
Megan had warned me that guys changed after sex. They got distant, or possessive, or clingy—or all three on infinite repeat.

“What is it?” I asked.

He looked up quickly, and I expected him to say, “Nothing,” then retreat into one of the many corners of his mind.

Instead his eyes held mine for a long, silent moment. “You’ll think I’m crazy. Maybe you’ll be right.”

“Tell me, anyway.”

“It was probably my imagination, and I don’t know what I’m talking about, really, since I’d never—” He swept his fingers through the rain-damp hair on his forehead. “Ach, maybe it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

“When we were together today, it was like—like we’d carved out a place in the universe for just the two of us.”

My heart stopped. My voice came out a bare whisper. “A place where no one’s ever been before.”

Zachary’s eyes lit up. “You felt it, too?” He pulled his knee onto the cushion between us, so that he faced me straight on. “Was it real?”

“It felt real. And I don’t think—I mean, I’m not an expert, either, but I’ve never heard anyone say
that
happened. Especially not the first time.”

He spread his hands as if illustrating one of the wonders of the universe—which he was. “The scientist in me hates to use this word, but—it was fuckin’ mystical.”

I laughed, both at his reluctance to use the
M
word and his rare burst of profanity.

He continued, “It was like I was taken somewhere else. Somewhere I belonged.”

My lip trembled. Megan was right—Zachary had changed. The intensity in his eyes held me in place, not just here in the booth but by his side. How could I leave him to go back home? It scared me to need anyone so much. If our souls became inextricably tangled, would mine still be mine? Did I care?

Zachary leaned in, and I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead he pressed his cheek to mine and held it there. It felt more intimate than a kiss.

“What did you say to me before?” I asked him. “In bed. In Gaelic.”

He sat back and looked away. “Oh. That. There’s no exact translation.”

“But roughly?”

Zachary rubbed his lips, as if to keep them closed. “Naw, you’ll think it’s too much.”

“Not possible.”

His gaze came at an angle, slightly guarded but full of hope. “It means ‘soul mate.’ ”

His words made my world spin faster. We weren’t the type to
believe in destiny or soul mates or anything that took away our choices. But sitting here, seeing the gazebo’s glistening white lights dance in his eyes, I could believe in our magic.

“It’s not too much,” I said. “It’s perfect. What were the words?”

“Mo anam caraid,”
he said slowly, pronouncing it
mo AN-am CAR-idge
.

I repeated it after him. “I’m glad it’s something short. Can you write it down for me?” I pulled a felt-tip pen from my purse, then offered him the inside of my arm.

He spoke as he scratched out the letters in neat script along the palest part of my skin. “Dunno if there are words in any language to properly explain how … together I feel, now I’m with you again.”

I stared at him, flustered by his unusual openness. “Together?”

“Like I was a pane of shattered glass, and you’re the only glue that’ll stick.” Zachary began to draw the final word,
caraid
. “It’s just started, this gluing, but it’s started.”

He put the cap back on the pen and held it out. When I grasped it, he didn’t let go, but used it to pull me toward him into a lingering kiss.

“Here we are,” the waitress said as she approached, shoes clomping the rough hardwood. We separated, attempting to look embarrassed. She gave us our pints, then took our meal orders, her eyes glinting with amusement.

The live music started then, a traditional band with fiddle, accordion, and a dynamic acoustic guitar. Zachary and I sat shoulder to shoulder and hand in hand, our heels tapping the floor.

I was thirsty, so I drank the ale quickly. It went straight to my head, turning my contentment to fatigue—and soul-crushing sadness.
It opened my ears and my heart to the fiddler’s mournful strains as he played a lament for those who’d passed on.

My eyes burned, and my chest felt leaden. Guilt swamped me for thinking of Logan at a time like this.

Zachary put his arm around my shoulder and spoke low in my ear. “It reminds you of him.”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“This was his music.”

I swallowed. “But I’m with you.”

“You can’t fight memories. They come whether you look for them or not.” He kept his eyes on the musicians. “You’ve never asked about my meeting Logan.”

The name hung heavy in the air between us. “He only told me that you’d talked. No details.”

“He said he was going to find you, then leave this world with just you there. It was good of him.”

I waited for Zachary to say more, which after a moment, he did.

“He told me I was stupid, that if I really loved you, I should’ve tried harder to steal you away from him, and that I definitely shouldn’t have gone to the prom with Becca. I told him he was one hundred percent right.”

“Did he know how rare it is for you to admit you’re wrong?”

“Ha. He asked if I knew about your father. I said aye, I was there when she found out. I said I’d die before I told anyone your secret.” Zachary rubbed his chin and took a long sip of ale. “And then he apologized.”

“For what?” I asked softly.

“For not letting you go when he should have.”

My throat closed up as I wondered what would’ve happened if Logan had passed on right after dying, or even within a few weeks.

Would I have loved Zachary sooner? Would it have been too soon? Would we have broken up quickly because my heart hadn’t mended yet? Would we be here right now?

“What else did he say?”

A sly smile graced Zachary’s face. “He made me promise to do something for him.”

“What?”

“It’s a secret between us lads.”

“Have you already done it?”

“No.”

“Is it something to do with me?”

“A bit. Mostly him, though.”

I wanted to ask Zachary what had happened next at the airport, about his capture and detainment. But he looked so serene, as if the peace inhabiting Logan on that last day had passed to him, a peace that returned at the mere memory of their conversation.

“I’m glad he came to you,” I said, “and not just because it saved your life.”

Zachary’s gaze dropped to my left hand resting on my lap. He laid his own on top of it, aligning our wedding bands. “Last summer, there were times when I almost … in any case, I kept going because I couldn’t let that happen to you again.”

“Let what happen?”

He didn’t look up. “Your heart broke when you lost Logan. If I
didn’t make it—not that I thought I meant as much to you as he had—”

“You did. You do.”

“—and not that I don’t think you’re strong. But the thought of you crying over my …” He stopped short of the word “death” and shook his head forcefully. “No.”

I folded my thumb tight over his. “Can you tell me what happened? Now that we’re together?”

He lowered his chin, brushing his hair against my forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Someday, I promise, if everything works out the way I hope.”

“What can I do to make that happen? Please tell me. I’ll do anything.”

“I can’t ask it of you. Not yet.” He took a deep breath, collecting himself, then sat back against the booth. “We’re here now, let’s enjoy that, a’right? It’s all that matters.”

I wished it were true. I wished that all that mattered was us, here. Together. Free.

Yet the damage done had become part of the fabric of Zachary’s soul. There would be no forgetting or avoiding. Only a journey through.

But it was a journey he wouldn’t travel alone. His soul’s fabric was weaving itself with mine. I loved the frayed ends where it came unraveled, and I loved the strength at its firm, solid center.

I loved every thread.

B
y the time we got back to our room at the castle (where no one had broken in and gone through our stuff), I was almost too tired to walk. I took out my contacts and collapsed into bed in a T-shirt and sweatpants. Hotness personified.

When Zachary slipped under the covers beside me, he said, “It’s midnight plus one minute. Happy birthday.”

“Hay burray,” was my drowsy reply. Knowing touch would be more coherent than speech, I dug my fingers into his soft T-shirt and slid my feet against his flannel pajama pants.

He drew me close and kissed my forehead.
“Tha gaol agam ort.”

I recognized the Gaelic for “I love you” he’d taught me on one of our chats. I made my tongue wake up enough to say it back, managing
not to mangle the pronunciation,
Ha gowl AKam orsht
. As the last syllable faded, so did I, fast asleep.

Jet lag and exhaustion had scrambled my brain-clock, so I woke up at four thirty a.m., even though that would’ve been my bedtime at home.

I lay there, listening to Zachary’s deep, even, quiet breaths. Eventually I turned to watch him sleep, marveling at the smoothness of his brow, the stillness of his limbs, so different from the way Martin had described and the way I’d seen that night when Zachary had fallen asleep during our video chat.

Suddenly a violet light seeped through our translucent balcony curtains, casting a glow into the living room area.

I sat up in bed, excitement banishing exhaustion. This was the first ghost I’d seen in Ireland, thanks to Zachary’s near-constant presence. By now it’d been hours since we’d kissed, so I’d returned to my normal, 100 percent post-Shifter state.

Maybe this ghost would know something about Newgrange. Maybe it’d be old enough to remember what’d happened during the Shine.

I slipped out of bed, grabbed my sweater, and hurried to the balcony door. The ghost had probably tried to come into the room itself and had been repelled by Zachary. From outside there was no direct view of the bed, so I parted the curtain in the middle to get a better look.

The ghost was a middle-aged man in a classic Irish cap, like the ones worn by the older guys in the pub. His trousers were a bit baggy, as was his tweed coat. He could’ve been from any time, in the distant or recent past.

I opened the door. “Hi.”

He beamed and said something I couldn’t understand.

“Uh, do you speak English?” I asked him.

He scowled and began to rant, gesturing wildly.

“Hang on.” I closed the door, then ran to the bed and almost pounced on Zachary, but stopped myself in time.

Instead I crawled in next to him, snuggling close. “Zach, wake up.”

“Can’t. Sleeping.”

I pressed my mouth to his in a full, deep kiss.

“Second thought, not sleeping.” He rolled me atop his body and kissed me hard, one hand full of my hair and the other sneaking up underneath my shirt.

Though it tore my heart, I pulled away far enough to speak. “There’s a Gaelic ghost on the balcony.”

Zachary blinked hard. “Heh?”

“I think he speaks Gaelic. Obviously I don’t, so this is your interview.”

His hands dropped to the bed with twin thuds. “
That’s
why you’re kissing me? Taking my red so I can have a chat with a ghost?”

“Hurry.” I hopped off the bed, pulling his arm. “Ask him about Newgrange, ask him how long he’s been haunting this place, since before or after the Shift. Ask him anything.”