CHAPTER EIGHT – ASHER VANE

His eyes are the color of captured moonlight, Aidan thought. Or is it mercury? They shift and move like liquid metal. Sidhe. He’s a Sidhe.

The last thought came out of nowhere. Yet Aidan was sure it was true. The man who had rescued him from the well was one of the others whom Grandfather Patrick loathed and those two facts alone would have made Aidan feel positively towards him. But even without them, there was something about the Sidhe that Aidan found strangely familiar.

That can’t be. I’ve never seen him before. But I’d never forget him. No one could ever forget him.

Aidan’s unforgettable hero regarded him from those shifting, mercury eyes set in an almost inhumanly pale, perfect face. A hint of a frown graced his sculpted lips as he took in every part of Aidan’s form while Aidan took in his.

Platinum colored hair hung down to the Sidhe’s mid-back. On someone else it would have looked unfashionably long, but on the man it looked just right. The Sidhe stood over six feet, larger than Patrick, and far bigger than Aidan’s slight frame. He seemed to tower over the boy. The Sidhe had a perfect v-shaped upper body: broad shoulders leading down to a narrow waist. He wore buttery cream-colored leather pants that accentuated his heavily muscled thighs. His matching leather jacket was open, revealing a white collared shirt underneath, tucked in just tightly enough to show the defined musculature of his chest.

Aidan swallowed. He felt his own physical imperfections, of which there were many, more keenly than normal as he regarded the stranger’s stunning good looks. He shifted uneasily as the man’s hands were still grasping him about the upper arms and the compelling eyes were fastened on his face, unblinking. A slightly stunned expression was drawing across the Sidhe’s preternaturally handsome features as if he could not believe what he was seeing.

Maybe Mom was right that the Sidhe would recognize me. Maybe I do have the Sidhe look. Aidan nearly snorted. The Sidhe look? Please! If he’s the example, then I’m definitely not Sidhe. He’s gorgeous and I’m as plain as vanilla except for the red hair.

“Hi! Uh, I – I’m Aidan,” he said, wiping his damp palms on the front of his ink-stained jeans as the stranger continued to stare. Those radiant eyes actually grew wider when he spoke. “We’re, ah, new here.”

He internally cursed himself at his pathetic greeting. Great, why didn’t I just say my name was Howdy Doody and get it over with? I seemed just as cool as a 1950s wooden puppet there.

“Thanks for – ah, saving me or – whatever. I just … I’m not certain what happened there,” Aidan said with a nervous chuckle.

Sarah was suddenly upon them. She hauled back and hit the Sidhe on the thigh with one grubby fist. “You let him go! You let my brother go!”

Aidan would have thought it sweet and almost funny that Sarah was willing to attack a perfect stranger to protect him, but this was the man who had just saved his life and she was really pounding on him, though the Sidhe hardly seemed to feel it.

“Sarah! Bed Bug! Cut it out!” Aidan said as he regretfully shook off the Sidhe’s grip and grasped his sister’s battering arms, holding them at her sides.

“Aidey! Oh, Aidey!” she wailed.

Sarah’s blue eyes were already watery, and sure enough, the tears rained out of her when he finally got her attention. He sank down onto his haunches and gathered her against his chest while she wept in fear and confusion. He rubbed her back, telling her everything was all right, that he was fine, and to quiet down. All the while, Aidan could feel the Sidhe’s eyes on him, watching his every move as if to catalogue it for later dissection.

It wasn’t exactly an unfriendly feeling, but nor was it warm and fuzzy to have the imposing Sidhe standing over them, silent and watchful. Finally, Sarah’s sobs slowed down to hiccupping sighs. He pulled her away from his chest and immediately her thumb snuck up to her mouth. It was a habit she’d grown out of a few years ago, but under the circumstances, he wasn’t going to deny her the comfort of a good thumbsuck. He felt like he could use one himself.

Aidan rose on trembling legs to turn and face the Sidhe. The mercury eyes found his and Aidan felt as if some of the other man’s strength flowed into him.

“Thank you for saving me. Really. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t pulled me back,” Aidan said, this time framing his thank you as an actual statement instead of a question.

“You would have been taken,” the Sidhe said simply, a hint of an accent that Aidan couldn’t place tinting his words.

“Taken? Taken where?” Aidan asked, his gaze flickering over to the well. A deep feeling of revulsion for it rose up from his stomach. The nausea and Sarah’s upturned tear-streaked face made him add, “Don’t answer that. What’s your name? Like I said, I’m Aidan, and this brave little girl is my sister, Sarah.”

Aidan held out his hand for a shake. After a moment’s hesitation, the Sidhe extended a cool, leather-clad hand to take his. It was a firm, but almost gentle grip. Not bone-crushing grasp to prove one’s manhood. He wouldn’t need to. They guy reeks of masculinity even with the long hair and the too-beautiful features, Aidan realized.

“Asher Vane,” the Sidhe said.

“That figures,” Aidan said. He gave a gasp of dismay as he realized how nonsensical and perhaps rude that answer was when Asher’s eyebrows rose up. “No, ah, I didn’t mean – Shit. Let me try this again. I was just thinking that your name suited you. Asher – ash – your coloring. Gray and silver and -- shit, this is getting worse, isn’t it?”

Asher’s eyes had been widening the more he spoke. Aidan was blushing so hard now that his red face could probably be seen in orbit.

“Can we just forget I said anything?” Aidan nearly begged.

Asher chuckled and shook his head negatively, some of the earlier stiffness leaving him as he said, “I wouldn’t want to forget your response. It’s the most unusual one I’ve gotten in some time.”

Aidan blushed impossibly harder. “Great, just what I wanted to be remembered for.”

“But you will be remembered and isn’t that the point?” Asher asked him, a hint of mirth in those silver eyes.

“I guess. And here I thought with a new place I could come in and be all cool,” Aidan said, kicking at the dead grass.

“Cool? You are not cool. You are quite warm,” Asher said and Aidan couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him at that smoky voice.

Aidan shifted from foot to foot, trying to remember how to make small talk, any talk, so that Asher might stay. “Do you live around here? Are you a neighbor?” He looked behind the Sidhe into the woods, but the trees were too tall and thick to see if there was another house nearby.

“I live in the next valley, over the ridge that gives the town its name, a few miles from here,” Asher said, pointing vaguely to the west.

“Oh,” Aidan said then gave another startled exclamation as he noticed a gray horse standing amongst the trees. “You were riding in the woods? Are there trails?”

“Some trails. A lot of the time I just make my own,” Asher said. “I like to ride as far as I can before the sun sets. But tell me of yourself. Where do you come from? Who are your people?”

Aidan noted the almost formal way Asher spoke. It's like he’s from another time.

“We’re from Chicago. Sarah, our mom Anna, and I moved in with our grandfather,” Aidan explained.

The Sidhe frowned. “Are you certain of this?”

Aidan gave a little laugh. “Certain of where I’m from or where I am?”

“I think you know what I mean,” Asher said, softly, his eyes narrowing.

Aidan found himself looking away from the beautiful man. He knew what Asher was asking. It was like Anna had said: the Sidhe would know he was one of them even as Grandfather Patrick did. But something in him resisted saying anything. Why should he spill his life story to this man even if he’d saved Aidan from being taken? Whatever that means!

“You come from here, do you not? You can tell me, Aidan. You wish to tell me,” Asher said, his melodious voice pushing, prying, making Aidan want to tell him everything.

Aidan’s head jerked up. “You’re trying to make me tell you like – like the well! Did you do that too? Lure me over to it and then pretend to save me?”

Even as he said the words, Aidan knew they were not true. And crazy. How could he make me do anything?

Asher’s expression grew almost thunderous. “You do not know the offense you have just made against me. I assure you that I am not the creature who enticed you to the edge of its lair.”

“So you were just riding, saw me being – taken and decided to investigate?” Aidan asked.

“I sensed you,” Asher responded.

Aidan opened his mouth to question what Asher meant when there was an angry masculine shout from behind him. Aidan spun around to see Grandfather Patrick storming towards them from the house. But it wasn’t the purpled face, twisted in on itself in rage and disgust that froze Aidan in place. It was the twelve-gauge shotgun Grandfather Patrick held in his hands. The shotgun that was pointed right at them.

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