Cate Tiernan - Changeling

It was hard to go to classes all day, being taught subjects like calc and American history, when I was wondering if my friends were going to be killed by a dark wave soon. It made it difficult to concentrate or to take what the teacher was saying seriously. I tried to keep myself mentally in classes, but I floated through the day, my mind on other things.

I caught up with Bree on the way to the parking lot after the last bell.

“Your dad out of town again?”

“As usual. I think it’s the same women, in Connecticut. So this makes a record for him—two months with the same person.”

Since her mother had run off with a younger man when Bree was twelve, Mr. Warren really hadn’t had a serious relationship.

“How do you feel about it?” I asked. We pushed through the heavy doors, feeling the force of the cold wind smack us in the face.

“I don’t know,” said Bree. “I don’t think it would affect my life that much. Unless, God forbid, she took an interest in me.”

She pretended to shudder and I couldn’t help laughing—the first time in days.

“Oi, Morgan,” said a voice, and a chill hit me that had nothing to do with the weather. Killian, my half brother, was sitting on a stone bench at the edge of school property. Our eyes met, and he grinned at me, his attractive, somewhat feral grin. “You rang? It was you, right?”

Bree glanced at me, and I realized she didn’t know I had called Killian here. I had told her about my experiences in New York: that Ciaran was my father, Killian my half brother, and why that meant I had to break up with Hunter. Bree had been incredibly supportive over the last few days, but I knew Killian’s presence must have been a shock to her. Hell, it was a shock to me. Somehow I’d thought I would have more time to prepare. With him here, the wheels had to be set into motion, and I felt afraid.

I drew in a deep breath. “Hey, Killian,” I said. “I was hoping to talk to you again.”

“At your disposal.” He spread his arms wide. His English accent was adorable. I hadn’t seen him since I’d learned we were half siblings, and now I stared at him, trying to see some resemblance.

“Killian!” called Raven.

I groaned inwardly as she hurried over to us. In New York she had flirted with Killian hard an heavy and in front of Sky, who had not been amused. Somehow I hadn’t factored Raven into the scheme of things when I had agreed to be part of Eoife’s plan.

“Hey, baby!” she said enthusiastically, leaning down to kiss him on both cheeks. Killian looked happy to see another of him many admirers, and he pulled her down to sit next to him.

“I was nearby, thought I’d drop in,” said Killian, giving me a glance. He knew that I was a blood witch and that the others weren’t, and he seemed to be gauging what to say. Amusement lit his eyes.

“I’m so glad you did,” purred Raven. “I thought we’d never see you again.”

“Yet here I am,” he said magnanimously. He smiled at her. and thought I felt exasperated—Go away , Raven—I also couldn’t help being amused, even a little proud. Killian was definitely fun to be around—but even more, I felt a sort kinship to him. I understood his humor, and his party-guy act didn’t bother me like it did so many of the others. Maybe that’s what blood ties really felt like.

“And there you are,” he said to Bree, checking her out in a way that was so outrageous, it was funny. She gave him a skeptical smile, then turned away.

“I’m starving,” she said, turning her gaze to me. “Want to go get something to eat?”

I bit my lip. Now that Killian was here, it was time to bond with him—time to gain his trust, ask about Ciaran, and hopefully get Ciaran out here. “Um, actually…Killian and I need to catch up.”

Bree looked surprised. “Oh.” She glanced over at Killian, who seemed absorbed with Raven, and then whispered to me, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry, Bree. I just need time to talk to Killian.”

Bree nodded slowly. “You’ll be all right alone with him?” she whispered.

I nodded quickly and circled my thumb and forefinger in the “okay” sign.

Bree nodded again, but her eyes still shone with concern. “All right,” she said, loud enough for Killian and Raven to hear.

“Well, I’m going to head home. See you guys.”

“Oh, yes, you certainly will.” Killian turned and grinned suggestively, and Bree smiled in a sort of confused way as she headed off.

“Well, I’m up for anything, as always,” Killian said, standing up and turning to me so that Raven’s leg was pushed to the side.

“Though I should mention that I’m rather famished myself.”

“I know a diner we could go to.”

“Perfect!” Killian flashed his trademark grin and turned to Raven. “How about you, love? Care to join us?”

“I can’t,” Raven said, frowning. “Mom’s suing Dad again and I have to meet with the lawyers.” She rolled her eyes. “They are such losers.”

“Oh, too bad,” I said, relieved, as Killian and I headed for Das Boot. I wasn’t sure if she meant the lawyers or her parents—probably both—and I didn’t care. Killian waved behind him as we walked off.

“Cool car,” he said as he climbed in, putting his arm across the back of the bench seat. “I love huge American cars. Gasguzzlers.” He smiles. “What year?”

“Nineteen seventy-one,” I said, pulling out into the street and heading toward the highway. Despite having called him, I was still rattled by Killian’s presence, and the weight of my mission pressed in on my chest, making me feel like I had drunk a couple of double espressos. “Listen, Killian,” I added quickly, “do you know who I am?” Might as well plunge right in.

“Sure. The witch from New York. With the friends, at the club.” He slouched comfortably against the seat, unconcerned that he was in a car with a virtual stranger going to a place he didn’t know, in a town he had just shown up in. He seemed like a leaf, a colorful autumn leaf, tossed about by the wind and content to go where it took him.

I took a deep breath. “Ciaran MacEwan is your father.”

He straightened a little bit, and I felt tension entering his body. He took a longer look at me, and I felt him cast his senses towards me, trying to figure out if I was friend or foe. I blocked his scan easily, not letting him in, and saw him straighten more.

“Yeah,” he said warily. “You knew that. So?”

My throat constricted as I turned onto the access road to Highway 9. Somehow I just couldn’t get the words out, and suddenly the diner was there in front of us. I pulled in and parked, and we didn’t speak again until we had ordered.

The waitress brought our drinks. We sat across from each other in the back booth of a fifties-retro diner. Killian took the paper off his straw, stuck it in his chocolate milk shake, and sipped—all without taking his eyes off me. I watched him, unable to decide what my next move should be.

“So, what do you want with Ciaran? Is your Seeker boyfriend looking for him?” Killian finally said lightly, but his face didn’t match his voice.

I fought to hide my surprise at his question. “The Seeker is not my boyfriend,” I said, looking him in the eye. “I found out Ciaran MacEwan is my father, too.”

Killian sat back as if he’d been slapped. His eyes open wide, he scanned me again, looking at my hair, my eyes, my face.

“I realized it in New York,” I explained awkwardly. “I didn’t know until then. But—Ciaran and my mother had an affair, and my mother had me.” And they were mùirn beatha dàns, soul mates, and then Ciaran killed her. And a short while ago he tried to kill me. I wondered if Killian had any idea what had happened to me in New York. I figured the odds were against it—he had told me that he and Ciaran weren’t all that close. Appearing out of nowhere, the waitress clanked our plates onto the table in front of us. Killian and I both jumped. After she left, he continued to look at me, stroking his chin.

“What was her name?” he asked finally. “Your mother.”

“Maeve Riordan, of Belwicket.”

I might as well have said Joan of Arc or Queen Elizabeth. He stared at me as if I’d suddenly grown two heads.

“I know that name,” he said faintly. Then, seeming to come back to himself, he shook his head and looked down at his hamburger. “American hamburgers.” He sighed happily. “I’m so sick of mad cow disease.” He picked it up with both hands and took a big bite, closing his eyes in pleasure.

Now what? How did I get from here to having him tell me everything about Ciaran and getting Ciaran to come to Widow’s Vale? Somehow I had to find a way. Every day, every hour counted. At this very minute Alyce was at Practical Magick, feeling a heavy mantle of doom lowering over her head.

“How did you found out about Ciaran?” Killian asked after a minute, taking another bite. Apparently discovering he had a half sister hadn’t dulled his appetite.

“I’ve read Maeve’s Book of Shadows,” I said. “She talks about Ciaran in it. Then in New York, I sort of—got into trouble. Ciaran helped me get out of it. And we figured it out how we knew each other… that he was my father. I–I have his eyes.”

“Yes, you do,” Killian said, studying my face.

“Anyway,” I went on. “He helped me, and he’s my biological father. I didn’t get a chance to really talk to him in New York or even to thank him.” I shrugged and glanced up to find Killian looking at me intently, and I felt a surprising strength coming from him.

“But you weren’t raised by Maeve,” Killian said quietly. “You couldn’t have been. How did you come to be here, in Widow’s Vale?”

“Maeve put me up for adoption,” I explained. “My family, the Rowlandses, adopted me. They’re the only parents I’ve ever known. I have a sister, but not a blood sister, of course. I mean, when I realized that I have an actual half brother… by blood.”

Mary K., please forgive me.

Killian blinked, as if this notion were just occurring to him. He focused on his food, working his way through his burger and shake with steady intent.

As the minutes went by, I felt more and more anxious. What if Killian hated me, the flesh-and-blood evidence of his father betraying his mother? At last he looked up, his plate completely clean. He smiled.

“Well! A little sister,” he said cheerfully. “Brilliant. I always hated being the baby.” He stood and leaned across the table to kiss me on the cheek. “Welcome to the family.” He made a rueful face. “Such as it is. Now. What do they have for pudding here?”

I watched as Killian devoured a slab of chocolate silk pie, and the new silence felt awkward. I studied Killian, trying to think, trying to prod my addled brain into motion. I needed more information from him. That was why eh was here. I needed to know everything he could tell me.

“Was Ciaran a… good father?” I asked.

“Not particularly,” Killian said, sitting sideways on his bench and putting his feet up. “He wasn’t around you a lot, you know. He and mum hate each other. He used to come around a couple of times a year, and he would test us kids and find us all wanting and blame my mother, and she’d cry, and then he’d take off.”

“That isn’t how I pictured it at all,” I said. “I thought, he’s your real father. He would teach you. He would show you magick. I thought you were so lucky to have him around.”

“Nope.” Killian seemed unconcerned, but I could tell it was a facade. “What about you? How’s your dad?”