Devil's Mountain (6 page)

Their small car disappeared down the road. Bobby had booked them into a hotel in Killarney for two nights. I’d be on my own tonight. Well, not exactly on my own.

I walked into the kitchen, sliced a piece of ham from yesterday’s dinner and cut myself some bread. I brewed tea, my mother’s tea.

Later, I dressed in one of my newer sheaths, one I’d made myself last year. Identical to my mother’s. The evening was warm, almost balmy, yet I slipped the heavy red cape over my shoulders as I walked out the door.

Conor Griffin, Seamus’s son, drove five cows along the back field. He saluted me from the distance and I waved back, conscious of my scarlet cloak. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, with shame. What must he think of me? What must they all think of me?

I remember when I was in school. I couldn’t have been more than six. One of the girls from town, a Phelan I think, not one of the five families, told me very matter-of-factly I couldn’t sit next to her. Said my mother was the Mountain’s whore, and that when I grew up I’d become the Mountain’s whore too.

That evening I told my mother a girl called me a whore and I didn’t understand why, I wasn’t a cow.

“A cow?” my mother asked.

“Yes, that’s what Daddy always shouts at the cows when they won’t go through the gate.

I’m not a cow.”

“Ah, love, of course you’re not.”

“What did she mean, Mammy?”

She pulled me onto her lap, and to this day I can still almost feel the pressure of her soft hands as they encircled my waist. She kissed the top of my head. “The people in the town don’t understand us, love, or what an important job we have up here on the Mountain. We serve
Slanaitheoir
and we keep them safe.”

“Whores keep people safe?”

“We’re not whores, love. You will hear that word again, I’m afraid. You’re a very special girl, Mary. And when you’re older I will explain it all to you.”

Over the years, my poor mother gradually shared her knowledge. As a child I’d traipsed after her like a puppy as she gathered herbs and roots from the Mountain. She showed me how to make her special tea. She guided me when I had my visions, when I knew Mrs. Rafferty was going to be hit by a car a week before it happened, when I felt a pain in my own head as I held the O’Connors’ baby and it later died of a tumor. She told me how to turn it off, how to blend in, and she encouraged me to leave the Mountain, go to Dublin. To have a life, at least for a little while.

It wasn’t until that day she arrived on my doorstep in Rathfarnham and announced it was my time, my turn, that she finally told me about
Slanaitheoir
and how I’d need to serve Him until my death. My birthright. The Devlin legacy.

The woods were chilly and I was glad of my heavy cloak. As I approached the clearing, my arms tingled with that familiar feeling, half dread, half anticipation. But the clearing was empty, the entrance to the cave dark and
Slanaitheoir
nowhere in sight. Had I misunderstood?

Had He not summoned me?

I stopped for a moment and opened up my mind, searching for some sense of Him. Often, as I walked alone along the lanes of the Mountain, I would feel a buzzing and would know He was near. Cloaked as a bird, a fox, a goat, He would follow me, observe me. Love me. I walked away from the cave, drawn to the cliffs.

Slanaitheoir
stood on the cliff overlooking the Feale River, shirtless, His arms stretched out. His black hair danced in the breeze.

“My lord?”

He said nothing.

“My lord?”

Without turning around He growled, “What do you want?”

“I thought-- I thought you beckoned me.”

He spun around. “Why would I beckon you, old woman?”

“Bobby and Caroline left, so, I, uh...”

“I know they left. Do you not think I know all that happens on my Mountain? I know all.

Remember that.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He reached over, grabbed my arm and dragged me to the cliff’s edge. He shoved His face in mine and took a deep breath.

“Death. The smell of death is upon you. If you’d had the sense to produce an acceptable daughter you would’ve joined your mother in the river long ago.”

I said nothing. I looked into His angry eyes, as turbulent as the roaring river below. “I am sorry that I displease you, my lord.”

He smiled then. A leering, mischievous smile. “Last night I tasted young flesh, you know. Firm. Supple. Sweet.”

I said nothing.

He touched my cheek and in a smooth and seductive voice cooed, “How can I go back to mutton now that I’ve tasted lamb?”

I brushed His hand from my cheek. “She’s going home next week.”

He smiled. “Maybe.”

“No, my lord. She is going home next week. She is my son’s and she is not a Devlin.

Caroline is not yours. You’ve no right to her.”

He laughed. An unearthly sound that sent shivers down my spine. “Right? Who are you to tell me my rights?”

My mother had always told me not to bait Him. Not to contradict Him. But for my son, I would withstand any punishment. I forced the panic out of my voice. “You agreed. You agreed to let them all go in exchange for the Devlins.”

“That’s when the Devlins produced the most beautiful women in the county. You have to admit, Mary, your bloodline has gone thin. You’re lovely, or at least you were, but you’re nothing compared to Roisin. Or your great-grandmother. But that daughter of yours. Short, squat.

And her voice, it would shatter glass. No, it is you, my love, who has not kept your side of the bargain. It is you who decided to breed outside my bloodline.”

I held His eye, and didn’t back down. “You promised to help my Bobby. To send them a child. A son.”

“I don’t recall that I was that specific.”

“You were. I made the request in writing and sealed it in my blood. That is the law.”

“The law,” he scoffed. “What are you going to do, call the guards on me?”

In a tone now hard and bold, I declared, “My mother taught me well. My request was specific and properly made. You are bound, my lord. Even you are bound by the Agreement.”

A roar unlike I’d ever heard came from His mouth. The cliff shook and I grabbed onto a tree, afraid I would be thrown onto the rocks below.
Slanaitheoir
, His face contorted, no longer the smooth handsome prince of the woods, His mouth, twisted, His teeth like fangs. He was ugly and fearsome in a way I had never seen before nor could ever have imagined.

“I should’ve let you die, all of you. Starve. But no, I was merciful. Generous. I saved you.

I saved all of you. And this is how you repay me?”

The wind picked up and nearly swallowed my faint words. “It is what you agreed, my lord.”

“It is what I was tricked into. By a Devlin woman.” He dropped to His knees. Black tears coursed down His face. “Why, why did my children abandon me? I gave them life, I gave them everything. They are mine! I own them!”

I could feel His pain as if it were my own. I knelt before Him and wiped His tears with the edge of my white sheath. I kissed Him gently on the mouth. “No, my lord,” I whispered.

“Now you only own me.”

Chapter 7

Caroline

“Come on, Caro, it’s almost our last day.”

“I know, and that’s why I need to see Dot. Three weeks, and I’ve only seen her once.”

Bobby nibbled my ear and caressed my now full breasts. “You’ve been busy,” he murmured.

I laughed. “Stop it!”

“Lunch. Come and have a picnic with me, and Dot can have you all to herself tonight.”

“Lunch? Is that all you have in mind?”

Bobby tried to arrange his face in an innocent smile. “Only lunch. I swear.”

“Okay.” I kissed his cheek. “You convinced me.”

Ten minutes later we left Mary’s cottage with a basket filled to the brim with last night’s chicken and the bread and cakes baked by her neighbor Bridget. Bobby walked briskly, and thanks to my three weeks roaming the Mountain, I was able to match him step for step. Since our overnight trip to the Collins cottage, we’d avoided the south side of the Mountain. Bobby never mentioned that night, and neither did I. What was there to say, really? We both drank too much, maybe got a little crazy. That was all.

We soon walked past the Griffins’ home, which consisted of the small original cottage where their son Conor lived and a much larger, more modern five bedroom bungalow where the parents and the younger children lived. Unlike the Collins cottage, the Griffins’ home was bursting with life. We waved to a dark-haired, green-eyed girl of around seven who could have been Bobby’s sister. Or daughter.

We continued past the Griffin’s and continued down the Mountain until we reached the banks of the Feale River. Bobby led us to a clearing above the river surrounded by wildflowers.

It was warm in the sunlight, although the ground felt damp. We spread out an old quilt. I unpacked our lunch.

“What a beautiful spot.”

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites. Did I tell you I first kissed a girl here?” Bobby smiled.

The sun in his eyes turned his eyes a lighter shade of green. In New York Bobby was a considered a handsome man, whether in his investment banker garb or slightly more casual weekend wear. More handsome than I deserved. Even some of my closest friends thought he was

“out of my league.” But here, his beauty, and honestly that is what it was, his beauty was striking. Surrounded by the soft green fields, it was almost as if he belonged to the landscape, was part of the land. Part of the Mountain. The tense look in his eyes from a broken deal or an unhappy client was gone, and replaced by a light, an energy absent in Manhattan. A spark, a fire.

Would he return here if it wasn’t for me? Me, with my shrunken ovaries and broken dreams.

Was I worth being separated from this beautiful, mysterious land? I wasn’t sure.

I forced myself to smile my carefree smile and mock-punched his arm. “Who was she?

Let me at her!”

Bobby laughed. “Easy, killer. It was Nuala Murphy, we were around twelve and I think she moved to Australia.”

“Okay, I won’t need to take her out.”

He felt my arm for a nonexistent muscle. “I’m sure she’d be quite relieved to hear that.

Ah, my jealous wife. The thought of a cat-fight is turning me on.”

I laughed. “Everything seems to turn you on.” Which was true. Even before our marathon baby making sessions, which after a while felt more like a job than anything else, our sex life had always been satisfying, if not spectacular. It had been fine, normal. But up here, Bobby couldn’t seem to get enough of me. And he had awakened something in me as well.

“Can I at least have a sandwich?”

He unbuttoned my blouse. “No.”

Bobby pushed me onto the blanket and kissed my neck. He pulled down my bra and nibbled my nipples. I flinched, afraid he would do more. His teeth only grazed the skin. They did not draw blood. Despite myself, I moaned. Bobby looked up. His emerald eyes sparkled in the sunlight. I gasped, reminded of something, I didn’t know what, though. I tried to sit up, but his arms, his now strong arms, held me down as his lips traveled lower.

I fell back and allowed him to take off my khakis. His mouth continued its descent and I now pushed his head down further, anxious for him to reach his destination. When I thought I couldn’t take it another moment, he stopped and flipped me on my stomach.

“Bobby?”

“Shut up.”

I turned my head to see him. He grabbed my hair and pulled hard.
Oh no, not again
! This couldn’t be happening again. Teeth sunk into my shoulder and I screamed. Bobby, or whatever had taken over Bobby, slammed my head against the old quilt. Its musty smell filled my mouth.

I felt something like a claw spread my legs wide. He entered me. Not slowly, gently as he usually did, but with force. He pounded at me. I lifted my head, and the old goat from the woods stood now not two feet from me. Its black eyes full of desire, of hate. As I stared into the eyes of that strange animal a fire ran through my veins, and what had been painful now thrilled me.

Sharp nails dug into my breast and I screamed with pleasure, with pain, never moving my gaze from the black pools before me.

Bobby didn’t stop thrusting into me, as if trying to split me open. His hands like claws tore away the flesh of my back with each thrust. Our bodies were slick with sweat and blood. I tried closing my eyes, but it was as if the goat forced them open and wouldn’t allow me to look away. I looked into His eyes as my body shuddered in ecstasy, in agony. Before I passed out I heard a strange voice whisper, “Mine.”

The sun was low when I opened my eyes. I was fully dressed, as was Bobby. With his dark eyelashes against his pale skin, he looked sweet. Angelic even.

I sat up and felt my back. While it was a stiff from sleeping on the damp ground, the skin was unbroken. It was fine. I shook Bobby awake.

He opened his eyes and smiled. “What time is it?”

I looked at my watch. “Almost four.”

“Wow, that was some lunch. I passed out.”

“Lunch? We didn’t eat lunch.”

He sat up, and smiled. “Caroline, you devoured the chicken, remember?”

I opened the lid to the basket, and there was nothing left except chicken bones and a few crusts of bread. “I guess we worked up an appetite.”

Bobby cocked his head, and looked at me. He smiled and said, “Yeah, that was a long walk.”

“Walk? But we...”

“We what, Caroline?”

He’d ripped my skin and fucked me like an animal while a goat looked on. Sweet Jesus, I must be losing my mind. I took a deep breath. “I meant we’re not used to all the exercise, I guess. I guess that’s why we passed out.”

“It’s the Mountain air, love. Didn’t I tell you it would do you a world of good?”

“You did.”

He smiled. “It put roses back into those cheeks. I’m glad we came here, aren’t you?”

I looked at my sweet Bobby’s face and felt such a rush of love for him. He was my world and had stood by me through so much. I didn’t want to worry him with my silly nightmares. My hallucinations. And we had had a wonderful time these past three weeks, for the most part. I felt and looked better than I had in months. Of course he was right. Coming here had been the right thing to do. I kissed him on the lips. “I’m glad we came.”