Page 28 of Heart of the Wren
He laid his hands on the wall and walked along, letting his palm and fingertips graze the stones.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Searching… for… the right… spot. Here.” He beckoned me over. “Put your hand here.”
The stone was smooth and flat, cold as the grave, but no different from any other in the castle wall.
He stood close and laid his hand over mine. His silver rings were chilly and his skin was rough but my body lit up from his touch. From his pocket he took a small bottle with a swing-top cap and some golden oil inside. He flicked open the top, stuck his thumb over the opening and tilted it. Closing the cap, he touched his thumb to my forehead. The oil was warm. He touched his own forehead too.
“This will help you see,” he said. “Now, close your eyes.”
Chapter 17
LORCAN
DARA STOOD close to me, warmth radiating from his body in waves. The pulse in his hand quickened and his flesh grew hotter. “Close your eyes and listen.”
Through the wind came the faintest rumble of hooves. No, not hooves, feet. Dozens and dozens, hundreds and hundreds, then thousands and thousands of feet, all thumping across wooden floors. And then came the twang of harp strings. A chorus of them. And now a drum. Two drums. Ten thousand drums, along with an orchestra of whistles andpipes. Like the tuning of a radio, the murmur of voices rose and dropped, and became more distinct. The voices laughed, sang, shouted, and moved all around us. I opened my eyes.
In the empty, ruined tower we remained but all around us came a symphony of voices, the voices of hundreds of years’ worth of people’s lives, all whirling around us in a dizzying hurricanes of sound. Then came the wispy, smoke-like silhouettes of figures moving to and fro. A flick of hair, the swish of a cape, a clash of tankards, a glint of bronze chest plates. Where the empty shell of the tower had been, now stood walls and floors, floors which creaked from the weight of the people upon them. Fires blazed in sconces, the scent of a lifetime of feasts filled my nostrils… And in a heartbeat it all ended. And then there was only Dara’s pulse. And then there was only Dara’s breath. And then there was only Dara’s lips as I lunged at him and we kissed.
He held my hip and my neck — just below my ear — and I grabbed him tightly. How soft his lips were!
“It's called the Stone Tape theory,” he said. “The idea that buildings, and the stone used in them in particular, can record moments in time. I used a spell to release them. It doesn't always work, and it can be a bit chaotic, but sometimes...” He waved his hand in the air. “Sometimes you get lucky.”
“This is the nicest, most amazing thing anyone… How are you so…?” I laughed, unable to grab the right words. “You’re so thoughtful.”
He tugged at his ear. “Witches have a rule. We believe what we give returns threefold.”
“So if you give me a tenner you’ll get thirty quid back?”
“Hah!Wouldn’t that be handy? No, our intentions, I mean. If we act with kindness, it comes back threefold. If we act with cruelty, or spite, or malice, well, you get the idea.”
“Like a kind of… cosmic dividend?” My head swirled, my heart raced from what I’d witnessed, and from the kiss. “Can you do this Stone Tape magic with the brooch?”
“I already tried. No luck.”
“Wait, does this mean if you didn’t believe in your threefold rule, you wouldn’t be so nice?”
“I’d be an absolute bollocks,” he said, laughing. “No, no, I’m kidding. I like to think I’d still be a decent person. Would someone who believes in a vengeful God who will send them to Hell act differently if they were atheist? Spiritual belief is no guarantee of morality. I like to think good people would still be good people, no matter what.”
A snowflake landed on my cheek. Then another. A blizzard came tumbling from the ashen sky. Giggling like kids, we hurried to one of the smaller remaining towers of the bawn wall surrounding the main building. Inside, the roof had half rotted away but it provided some shelter. The walls had been tarnished with graffiti but none of it recent.
Dara held his hand out to catch some flakes as big as communion wafers. “This isn’t stopping anytime soon.”
It came down in flurries, obscuring the castle.
“We could make a run for the car,” I said. “But we’ll be covered climbing over the gate. It wouldn’t be safe, either. We might slip.”
“Better we wait it out here, then.” Dara dried his hand on his trouserleg, then slid the hand onto my waist. “And, of course, we’ll need to stay warm.” He wiggled his ginger eyebrows, making me laugh.
“Oh, of course.” I kissed him again. “It only makes sense.”
Ignoring the cold, we kissed passionately, hands exploring each other’s bodies. He stripped off his jumper and shirt while I undid my belt. My trousers dropped to my ankles. Before I could remove my underwear, Dara’s hands grabbed the waistband and he slowly tugged them down over my hairy legs, freeing my stiff dick. It bobbed up to greet him and he immediately took it into his mouth, burying his nose in the thick black bush at the base. I huffed and set my hand on his shaved head.
He stroked my balls, the coldness of his silver rings sending jolts through my body. He grabbed my bum with both hands as he sucked. After a few minutes, he came up for air. “That’s some dick you’ve got.” He rubbed it on his own shorter, thicker mickey, with its pale skin and halo of ginger hair. The sensation of our slick helmets sliding and rubbing together nearly finished me off there and then.
I grabbed his arse but stopped, uncertain how to ask my next question.
