Homelands Pt. 09 Ch. 05

"That's okay," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"You...don't want to?"

"That's not why I stopped him," Cahill said.

"I know."

"Wouldn't feel right," he said, running fingers through blonde hair.

She frowned. Then, after a fashion, said, "Thanks."

Their kind weren't known for refusing sex. But Cahill figured that running all around the continent trying to escape your own brother, knowing what he planned to do to you if he found you, could suppress even the most voracious appetite. That she'd been rescued from Duncan at the last moment might come as a vast relief, but an aphrodisiac?

"C'mon," Teagan said, taking Cahill by the hand. The other conjured Sniffer's leash off the pavement, making it flip up into her palm. She then closed her blue eyes and gave her pointy nose a wiggle as she teleported them away.

Cahill looked around. They'd arrived at a picnic table in the middle of a park somewhere. A poorly maintained trail snaked off into the woods in either direction away from them. Otherwise, there was no sign that any mortal had ever set foot within a mile of the place.

Teagan hung Sniffer's leash on a knobby branch nearby then sat atop the picnic table. She patted the warped and knotted wood beside her, beckoning him to join her.

"Wasn't sure when I'd see you again," she said after he did so, resting her head against his shoulder. "I wish there was a better reason for that changing now."

"Me too," Cahill said as he wrapped an arm around her narrow shoulders.

"What'd she do to finally get you to take part?"

Cahill hesitated. Did she even want to know? "Nothing good," he said at last.

"Course not."

She asked for no further explanation, and he gladly provided none.

"How're your kids?" he asked, changing the subject. Seeing her again was his silver lining, and, for now, all he intended to focus on. "How many do you guys have now?"

"They're good," she said. "Just the two. I'd like more, but it was hard enough talking Daddy into it the second time that we might just be done." Her thin, pink lips formed a faint smile. "Alasdair's just started talking. Immogen's coming up on five months."

"Beautiful names," Cahill said.

"Yours must be so big now. Before you know it, Ty'll be hitting puberty."

She had no way of knowing just how far away Savannah was. How much faster time flowed there than in the Dreaming. "He's nearly seventeen, actually."

Teagan slapped his thigh. "No way!"

Cahill laughed. "My youngest turns nine in...well, shortly after midnight, I guess. So far as this world's concerned." He gave the top of her head a lingering kiss. "You've a lot to look forward to. Like sleeping again."

She laughed. "Tell me about it."

He wondered what they did with the kids during the Hunt, but didn't ask. That would only remind her that which they were both trying so hard not to think about.

"How's the rest of your family?" Teagan asked. "Your mother? Brothers, sisters?"

"They're good," he said.

His head immediately began to hurt. In time, that would stop happening. It had to. But he was still having trouble convincing himself that the fey didn't really exist.

"As good as can be, all things considered," he appended.

His sister sighed. "This is weird. Feels like it should be a happy moment."

"Yeah."

"Watch out for Duncan. He's a lot stronger than he used to be."

"So am I."

"Meaner too," Teagan added.

"That came across."

They didn't speak much after that. Just sat in the dark, waiting for the Hunt to end.

#

It probably shouldn't have surprised him when his mother got upset after he finished telling her about his experience with the Wild Hunt. But it did.

"Well I'm glad the two of you got to catch up," she said, her eyes on their children rather than him. She'd erected an elaborate stone structure in the back yard for them to play in, equal parts temple ruins and M.C. Escher creation, complete with stairs that couldn't have led where they did and nonsense gravity. "Regan, slow down! You're going to fall!"

Cahill gave her a flat stare.

"Well, he could. I don't know if he'd fall down-"

"Would you be happier if I'd spent the whole time cowering in fear?" he asked. "Or maybe slaughtering innocent mortals?"

Her brown eyes flashed. "That's so not the point and you know it."

He sighed. By way of apology, he tried to stroke her beautiful red hair. But when he reached to do so, she pulled away and shot him another angry look.

"I'm sorry," he said. Sometimes words worked too, he supposed.

"Hmmph."

"I wish I could have been here with you. That I didn't have to go back."

Above them, Morgan unhurriedly sought to escape his sister, who was closing in on him and would soon tag him It. The boy reached the end of his path and, with little hesitation, pressed on. As though attached to the stone, he wrapped around the underside and continued speedwalking away. Maisie reached the point where her brother had gone over the edge and stopped. She bent her head down, spied her upside down brother retreating farther away from her, and growled something at him. But she apparently lacked his faith in the structure's ability to warp the laws of physics, for she stood up, stomped her foot in disappointment, and ran back up the incline in search of more promising targets.

Caronwyn watched this with apparent fascination, and Cahill watched her as much as he did the events unfolding above them. Only after Maisie disappeared around a corner did his mother acknowledge his existence once more.

"How's that wishing working out? Likely to bear fruit anytime soon?"

Cahill gritted his teeth. "Look, I'm not the one who-"

Her head whipped to the side so fast it startled him. "So do you regret not taking advantage of Teagan? Now that you know I had so much fun without you? Is that it?"

"Of course not," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, both Seamus and Finnegan warmed my bed the last two nights. Our bed. Not because this mouse did play while the cat was away, but because I needed the distraction." She inched closer to him, and for once, his instinct was to slink away. "I may not have loved Fiona the same you did, but I lost her too, you know. Her, and Gallech, who no one seems to be too worked up about. Do you know what it's like to lose two children?"

Cahill didn't reply. How could he?

And neither did a tiny piece of him get suddenly aroused at the thought of his mother squeezed between two men, one her son and one her nephew. It wasn't like any reminder of his mother's sexuality, no matter the context, no matter how depraved the act, was incredibly exciting to him. No, he wasn't that fixated, bordering on obsessed.

"And when I haven't been sick with grief over them," she continued, "it's mostly been because I was worried about whether I was going to lose you too. Except when they were with me. Inside me. The only time I've been able to escape the need to gouge my eyes out so as to stop the tears from flowing was when I was deep in the throes of ecstasy. Would you have me apologize for that? Do you dare suggest I should feel guilty?"

He wanted to retreat from her, a feeling to which he was not at all accustomed. The intense heat emanating from her Libido felt like it might scour the flesh from his bones. But he held his ground. And took one of his mother's hands in hers.

To his surprise and relief, she allowed this.

"No," he said. Heart thumping with fear, he dared a quick kiss. She didn't pucker up to receive it, but neither did she turn and give him the cheek. "I'm glad they were here to grant you some relief. I really am."

She eyed him warily for a time, but she must have sensed his sincerity, because she gave the barest of nods. Inside her, the raging inferno dampened a bit, becoming a mere wildfire.

"I don't know what to say, Mom. I don't want to fight." He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. "Tell me what I can do to make it up to you, and I'll do it."

"Doesn't work that way," Caronwyn said at last.

"You're IT!" Maisie yelled, as her fingertips brushed a retreating Aengus' back.

For some reason, Cahill found this very amusing, and he started to chuckle. His mother looked at first like she might get even angrier at him for this, but then she did too.

He took the opportunity to kiss her again. She sort of almost reciprocated this time.

In what might have been a failed attempt to convince the world she wasn't still grieving, his mother wore a white vest covered with pretty floral embroidery. And nothing beneath it, he couldn't help but note. Plus she had on those hip-hugger jeans he liked so much.

He tried to remember what was wrong with the daytime rendezvous. Something, surely.

Well, if nothing else, there was the fact that she was ferociously mad at him. The lull in intensity didn't mean it was over. It might be enough to get him thinking randy thoughts, but that didn't mean the same went for her.

"I love you so much," he said. "I hate the thought of causing you pain. It makes me want to rip my intestines out and set them on fire."

"Get some good ideas from the Hunt, did you?" she asked with a faint grin.

Come to think of it, that particular image had come to mind for a reason. Teagan left no death and destruction in her wake, but the same could not be said for the rest of the fey women. The burning evisceration had been Liadan's work, he thought.

And to think, he'd hoped to find her instead.

Though that was probably a strong argument for making sure to find his aunt next time. Spending a few hours clutching his sister tight had been the least unpleasant way to get through the Hunt, but that only removed the least threatening piece from the board. He should have done like Oberon and spared the mortals of the Dreaming some suffering.

"I don't know how much longer I can feel like this," his mother said. The fire suddenly collapsed in on itself. A few smoldering embers remained, but there was more sadness than anger inside her now. "It's not fair that I should have to endure it without you."

He was tempted to point out that he'd not be called to the Hunt again for two weeks. But he knew that wouldn't help. No more than the fact that he hadn't had sex with Teagan.

"I know," he said.

She looked like she wasn't sure whether she wanted to kiss him, throw him on the ground and ride him, or stab him in the chest with a dull and rusty knife. He'd not have objected to any of those, though he liked some just a little more than others.

Anything to ease her pain.

In the end, she went with none of the above. "Brittany's not coping very well either," she said at last. "And Finnegan's not helping."

But presumably not because he was too busy fucking her mother. Lucky bastard.

"She needs someone to talk to," Caronwyn continued. "And you know how good your cousin is at that." She frowned. "I think a couple of good orgasms would do her a world of good, but she doesn't seem to be interested right now. Which tells you how bad it is."

It did indeed.

"Stop!" Aengus yelled suddenly, interrupting their private moment.

Cahill looked up to see the boy his mother had given Seamus yelling at Cori. "No Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon stuff! It's not fair!"

From atop a spire her cousin couldn't reach, Cori shot him a stunned look. It was hard to tell from this distance, but it looked like his daughter was fighting back tears as she said, "I don't wanna play anymore," and vanished the way a child her age shouldn't be able to.

"Oh dear," Caronwyn said.

He gave his mother's forehead a quick kiss. "I'll go find Brit after."

His personal goddess shooed him away with both hands. Which was one of the many, many reasons he loved her. Without another thought, he went looking for his daughter.

"Go away!" Cori yelled when Cahill knocked on her door shortly thereafter.

"Sweetie, it's your father."

No response came at first. Then, after a while, she repeated, "Go away!"

"No."

"Fine. Suit yourself. But I'm not opening the door."

He smiled at that. "That's okay. You don't have to. I'll just sit here and wait until you're ready to talk to me. However long that takes."

The bedsprings squeaked, but he heard no footsteps approach the door. When she spoke again, her voice sounded fainter, as though she was speaking to the far wall rather than the door. "And if I never want to? Ever again?"

"Then I'll cut my ears off."

Was that a snicker? "Cause if you can't hear my voice, you won't want to hear anyone's?"

"Exactly."

A pause. "You can be so silly sometimes, Dad." Then, with a voice at strained from his daughter's effort to hide her mirth, she added, "It's not working."

"You sure?"

The white door swung open, as if of its own accord. Beyond, a room not accustomed to receiving visitors quickly tidied itself up, though it hadn't been all that messy to begin with. The chessboard on the floor picked itself up, floated over to the tea table, and set itself down. The pieces arranged themselves neatly. A few stray articles of clothing put themselves away, and a pair of shoes slid into the closet. A plate of brownies someone who surely wasn't his daughter had snuck up from the kitchen disappeared altogether.

"I've kept my promise," his daughter said, swinging her little legs over the side of the bed. She slumped down onto the floor, making a great thud for someone her size. Without looking him in the eye, she went and sat at the table, by her chess set. "I beat Morgan twice in a row yesterday, and Aengus just this morning."

"Maybe that's why he said what he did," Cahill observed, taking the seat opposite her.

"I don't think so, Daddy." She wore the very archetype of a frown. "He doesn't even think stuff like that will upset me. To him, it's just so obvious that I'm different that it doesn't even count as mean to throw it in my face."

No girl her age should have that level of insight into such things. What had her young life been like to that point, and how had he not noticed? How could any child of his mother's, least of all by Seamus, be so callous towards her?

That wasn't fair. They were just kids. His daughter might be exceptionally precocious, but that didn't make Aengus insensitive. Boys his age said things they shouldn't, things they wouldn't say if they knew the impact, all the time. He might well grow up to be a charming little prince. It was hard to take the long view sometimes, when he saw his children hurting, but he knew that was the way to look at things.

It had to be for her to do so, though.

"You know what Morgan did when I beat him the first time?" Cori asked.

Cahill braced himself for the worst. "What's that?"

"Shook my hand." Her bronze cheeks darkened. "The second time, he kissed me."

"There you go," Cahill said. "I told you not all boys are the same."

"But he still doesn't think I'm pretty," Cori said, her puffy cheeks sliding into upraised palms. Without asking if he was interested in playing, she made one of her pawns advance itself a single space. "You should see the way he looks at Maisie."

He reached over and ran a few fingers through her coppery hair. "She's his sister."

How was he supposed to explain it to girl her age? That, sooner or later, most every one of them would form an especially strong bond with some other member of the clan, and more often than not those bonds would be between siblings or a parent and a child. That cousins were just not drawn to each other as strongly in most cases.

"And white," Cori said. "It's your turn."

Cahill frowned as he unthinkingly advanced a knight. Then winced when she countered his favorite attack straight away. How had he forgotten that she'd do that?

"And so very, very girly." Cori sighed. "She never wins at chess. Hates all that boy stuff. Only likes flowers and jewelry and pretty things."

"Do you like Morgan?" he asked.

"That's not the point," his daughter said, exasperated. "Your turn."

"I know," he said with a mixture of sadness and patience. At least, he hoped both of those came across. "The point is, we had a deal, and you kept your end."

His other knight leapt over the row of pixies.

Cori gave a nod. Then eviscerated his offense.

Cahill rubbed his forehead as he studied the board. He had nothing but bad options available. One of these days, he was going to have to devote all his attention to the game. That might not allow him to win, but he might at least retain some dignity.

"Okay. Ready?"

"You giving up already?" his daughter asked, smiling.

"I just thought-"

"Course I'm ready!" she said, pushing her chair back. "But we're keeping the board set up the way it is, and we're gonna finish later."

Cahill kissed the top of her head. "Deal."

With that, he walked her over to the mirror on the back of her bedroom door, closed his eyes, and did his best to picture his daughter as a good Irish lass. Not because that would make her any prettier, but because it was what she wanted.

"Oh," she said. "Oh."

He opened his eyes.

It had worked like a charm. He hardly recognized her. She wore the same checkered shirt and the same black tights. Stood the same height and had essentially the same build. But she still looked very different. Her hair, still red in a sense, had gone from copper to the light orange so rare among the Walkers but common among the Celts. Her skin had turned white as milk and she'd acquired a thousand freckles.

"Not like that," she said. "I don't want to be ugly."

Cahill kissed the top of her head, watching his lips sink into the pile of carrot peel in the mirror. "Cori, dear, you could never be ugly. And this doesn't even bring you close." He reached down and touched her cheek gently. "These freckles are adorable."

"They're hideous. Can't you fix them?"

Her hair darkened, turning the lovely shade of auburn his mother wore so beautifully. The freckles faded away, turning lighter and lighter until they disappeared altogether, leaving her complexion flawless. "Better?" he asked.

For a time, his daughter didn't respond. Then she nodded.

He let go of her, expecting to receive a hug. But she didn't turn around. Just stepped closer to the mirror and studied her new, more European face.

The mix of joy and wonder this brought her made him uncomfortable. He was glad to see his daughter happy again, but her apparent belief that women of other cultures were inherently uglier did not sit well with him at all.

"Can we go back outside?" she asked.

Cahill nodded.

His daughter was out the door in the blink of an eye. It didn't take her much longer to reach the backyard and start climbing up the stone structure again.

"Was that Cori?" his mother asked.

"Yeah."

"She looked...different."

"Yeah," he repeated, slipping a hand around her waist. "It's an experiment." He gave her pale cheek a quick kiss. That ultra-fair complexion appealed to him, a lot, but that didn't mean he'd love her any less if she belonged to any other ethnicity, did it? He was more than a little attracted to Liadan, after all. And he'd been heartbroken after Alejandra had dumped him, a lifetime ago. "Let's hope it doesn't take."

"That hair looks familiar," Caronwyn replied, leaning against his shoulder.

"She doesn't think she's pretty. I disagree. Vehemently. But if anything could possibly count as an upgrade...." He shrugged.

His mother's lips readied themselves for a grin. "I knew I liked you."

"Sometimes."

"When you're not being an insufferable, unreliable, total scoundrel who's not there when I really, really need him more than ever in my life. Yeah."