Myth and Magic. Mae Clair

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СКАЧАТЬ he trekked up the hill beside his best friend, Merlin racing ahead of them. They’d spent the day slaying dragons and battling trolls along the edge of Stone Willow Lake. Grassy embankments, cool water, and leafy trees created a kingdom where Merlin was wizard and they were brave knights and warriors who triumphed over evil.

      Caith sent his friend a black glare. “Why’d you tell her we’d meet her anyway?” Girls had no business in mock sword fights or challenging ogres. Even now, the slender branch he’d fashioned into a make-believe sword dangled from his belt and bumped against his thigh as he walked. He liked the feel of it and wondered if a real sword swung that way. He’d have to ask his mother. She knew everything about folklore and myth.

      Trask chewed around a wad of bubble gum. “She isn’t like Becky. She knows about legends and stuff. I saw her reading something on King Arthur. She told me she likes Robin Hood and some minstrel guy named Tal-Tali…”

      “Taliesin,” Caith finished for him. He’d grown up on myth, courtesy of his mother’s family traditions. Over the years, he and Merlin had pulled Trask into their make-believe adventures.

      “She thought your name was funny,” Trask continued as the incline steepened and he dug in to keep pace. “She couldn’t say it, so I broke it down for her. Caith-el-den.”

      “You told her my real name?”

      “Don’t be stupid. She already knew about you. Everyone knows about the Breckwoods. My dad says your father owns the town.”

      Caith shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. Sometimes he hated the reverence that came with the Breckwood name. “I don’t care about that stuff. It’s for Aren and Galen.” They’d reached the top of the hill now, stopping beside Merlin who’d paused.

      “Look there.” Merlin pointed toward a copse of trees.

      A thin knobby-kneed girl in a faded sweatshirt and dirt-stained jeans was doing cartwheels on the hillside. Her hair was long and straw-colored, streaming down her back in a tangled ponytail. A single yellow rose, snipped just below the bloom, was tucked into her hairband.

      “That’s Ron,” Trask said with a goofy grin. He looked from Caith to Merlin. “Come on. You guys have to meet her.”

      She’d been distant at that first meeting. Distant and wary. After all, they were boys, and she was out of her element. But it hadn’t taken long. She’d been better with the pretend sword than him and could outrun both Merlin and Trask.

      He’d liked her from the start, then grown attracted to her about the time he turned sixteen. It was when he began to use sex as a crutch to ease the gut-twisting guilt he carried over Trask’s death. There had been plenty of older girls, some from the local college, all willing to teach him. He hadn’t cared about names or faces, and the need for escape made him a fast learner. For every moment he lost himself in the blissful mindlessness of sex, caring only for the release it brought, Caith treasured Veronica from afar.

      She deserved to be loved and cherished. The older he got, the stronger those emotions grew. But she deserved someone better. Someone who wasn’t tainted by death. Who wouldn’t put her in danger simply by being at her side. He’d spent many nights waking in fear, his chest so tight he couldn’t breathe, certain those who loved him would suffer.

      The fear had never gone away. It had simply become bearable, distant.

      Don’t hurt him! Trask’s voice echoed in his mind, resurrecting the sickening smell of model glue. Please… you can’t….

      Then bits of images he’d locked in a dark place he rarely allowed to surface: a damp room, the slant of greasy sunlight through a mud-splattered window, a man with a pock-marked face, the sharp, straight edge of a knife.

      Don’t hurt him! Trask had screamed.

      Shaken, Caith dragged a hand over his face. He was grateful when he stepped into Veronica’s office and could concentrate on something other than the past.

      The room wasn’t large, but homey, with bookcases, wooden file cabinets, and paisley curtains at the windows. A cherry desk topped with a computer screen, several folders, and scattered papers indicated the owner wasn’t always tidy. Paper clips, pens, pencils, a discarded newspaper, and an empty coffee cup added to the clutter. He guessed Ron, as manager, was the only one permitted a computer at the lodge.

      His back to the door, Caith slid into a chair across from the desk. “If you pull the personnel files, I’ll take them to my room. You do have a room for me?”

      Her gaze raked over him, decidedly cool. Most likely, she was still miffed about the near-kiss in the kitchen. Reaching into the top drawer of her desk, she snagged a key and tossed it at him. “The Blackbird Suite.”

      Caith caught the key in his left hand, his brows crinkling at her frosty tone. “Blackbird?”

      “Stone Willow has three floors not counting the basement, which you’ve already seen.” Veronica settled behind her desk. “The main level consists of my office and apartment, the lobby, kitchen, dining area, a room for gathering, and an enclosed porch to the rear. The second floor has six singular rooms, and the third, four suites—Blackbird, Hummingbird, Wood Thrush, and Nightingale.”

      “You gave me a suite instead of a room?” Caith tried to lighten the mood. “Someone must like me.”

      “Not me. It was Aren’s idea. As he’s the COO and you’re his brother, I guess that entitles you to some privileges. Besides, most everything that’s happened has been on the third floor or in the basement. We thought you should be where the action is.”

      “With the gobbly ghouls,” a man inserted behind Caith in a sarcastic tone.

      Caith spun quickly. The sight of the man poised in the doorway brought him to his feet. “Merlin.”

      He hadn’t bargained on such a sharp reaction. Something dark danced up his spine. Time stretched like a taut rope as the two regarded each other in silence. Finally, Caith offered his hand. “It’s been a long time.”

      Ignoring the overture, Merlin brushed past him. “Not long enough.” Stepping around Veronica’s chair, he placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning forward to press his lips against hers. The message was clear: She’s mine. Back off.

      “Merlin!” Veronica tried to swat him away, as if annoyed he’d use her as a trinket in a power play.

      “You haven’t changed much,” Caith observed sourly.

      Merlin chuckled.

      “I was telling Caith about the lodge,” Veronica interrupted with a sharp glance for Merlin. “He’s going to be staying in the Blackbird Suite.”

      “How fitting.” Merlin’s gaze slid across the desk to Caith. “Blackbirds and ravens, eating the souls of the dead.” The hint of a mocking smile stretched his lips. “Then again, you know all about dead things, don’t you?”

      “Merlin!” Veronica gasped at precisely the moment Caith launched himself at his brother. Catching Merlin by the collar, he slammed him up against the wall. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      Feigning innocence, Merlin held up his hands. “You’re overreacting, Caithelden. СКАЧАТЬ