HIDDEN IN TIME

by Longley, Barbara

“I don’t think so, but I have a stab wound on the back of my left calf.” That tidbit elicited another cry from her mother and a growl from Fáelán.

  He sent his text and punched in a number. “I’m calling the garda now, and then I’ll text James and ask him to come have a look at ye.” He glanced at her. “Unless ye’d rather I drive ye to a hospital?”

  “No. Having Dr. Ahearn come here would be better.” The thought of a car ride anywhere turned her stomach. Not only that, but she couldn’t tolerate being around a bunch of strangers gawking at her in a hospital waiting room.

  “Are you up to telling us where you’ve been?” her mother asked as she gently brushed Grayce’s hair of her bruised and scraped forehead.

  “Long story.” She sniffed as tears continued to slide down her cheeks. “Can it wait until I’ve been patched up, and I’ve had some sleep? I’m in a lot of pain, and I can’t think straight.”

  “Of course.” Her dad sat beside her and reached for her hand. “Interesting … outfit,” he said, eyeing her linen shift and simple woolen overdress.

  Her mom turned to Fáelán. “Is Dr. Ahearn on his way?”

  “Aye, and so are the garda.”

  Grayce glanced at her parents. “Have you been here since I disappeared?”

  “No. We had to return home that Saturday, you know. There, we waited for word from Regan that Boann had everything worked out for your rescue before coming back. We arrived yesterday.”

  “Oh.” Pain and exhaustion wracked her. “Maybe I should change clothes before the garda get here. Can we find something that might fit Rebecca?”

  “Good idea. Less to explain.” Her mom patted her leg as she eyed Rebecca. “I’ll go see if I can find something for her. Dr. Ahearn’s wife is about the same height. Hopefully Kathryn left something behind. Gene, will you get something for Grayce to change into?”

  “Of course.”

  Her mom and dad hurried off. Grayce laid her head back against the couch and closed her eyes. Oh, Brian. She hoped like hell their plan to put a stop to Aiden had succeeded. Had he discovered she was missing yet? She let loose a shuddering sigh. “How did you find me? How did you get through? I thought only the one who wove the magic could enter the hidden valleys.”

  “Your mother, Meredith, and I went after ye when ye failed to come home that evening ye disappeared,” Fáelán told her. “We found your backpack, and I called my daughter and asked for her help.”

  “Your twin sensed the disturbance in the atmosphere where you’d gone through,” Boann added. “I was able to see the magic that had been woven. Once I picked up on the weaver’s energy trace, I began searching for its creator.”

  “One of Fionn MacCumhaill’s fae relatives,” Grayce muttered. She opened one eye and peered at Fáelán. “Would you please make an icepack for me? A plastic baggie filled with crushed ice would work, or even a bag of frozen veggies. My entire face is throbbing.”

  “Aye. Forgive me, Grayce. I should’ve thought of that sooner.”

  “A cup of tea would be nice too,” she added. Her brother-in-law nodded and took off for the kitchen. She didn’t really want tea; what she wanted was a minute alone with Boann. She glanced at Rebecca’s still form for a second.

  “The druids, fae, and Fionn MacCumhaill hid the valleys from the rest of the world back when the kings of Ireland were at war and trying to destroy Fionn’s clan and his army of Fianna.” She pushed herself up a bit, wincing at the pain. “You must have found whoever hid the valley, and I’m guessing he made it possible for you to enter.”

  “Yes.” Boann settled herself on the couch beside Grayce.

  “Can I go back?” she asked, her voice breaking.

  “I think not.” Boann’s eyes filled with sympathy. “My grandfather and the high king of the Tuatha dé Danann are now aware of the hidden vales. The future of na Gleannta Bhfolach and the clan living there have yet to be determined.”

  A pit of despair opened inside her. She couldn’t imagine never seeing Brian again, never holding him in her arms, or sharing a quiet evening together in their cozy cottage. She didn’t want to imagine her life without him. “What are the options being discussed?”

  “My grandsire, King Lir Beneath the Sea, has suggested the clan be returned to the era when their ancestors relocated to the hidden valleys. There they’d have to find another way to survive the war. Fionn and his fae cousin, Alpin, have suggested the magic be rewoven, and that the clan should remain as they are. Still, others on the council have argued that the magic should be dismantled, and the inhabitants assimilated into modern life.”

  That last option sent her pulse racing with desperate hope. “Do I get a vote? I … I’m married. My husband is there. That makes me part of the clan.”

  “I see.” Boann set her hand on Grayce’s forearm. “I wish I could tell you otherwise, but no. Your wishes will not enter into the fae council’s decision in the least.”

  Grayce closed her eyes again, awash in soul-rending grief.

  “It is not certain the wishes of the clan will even be taken into consideration. Alpin is being sanctioned for his actions. What he did, he did without permission. When I left the fae realm, he and Fionn were arguing their case before the council and the kings.”

  “Fionn’s clan believe he’s dead.” Heartsick and in pain, Grayce sighed. She’d figure something out once she’d had some rest. Things had worked out for Regan and Fáelán. There had to be a way for things to work out for her and Brian.

  Fáelán returned with tea and a baggie full of ice. He wrapped it in a dish towel and handed it to her, but then her mom and dad returned with bundles of clothing. They helped her to the first-floor powder room, and she managed to change with her mother’s help.

  “What should I tell the garda?” Grayce asked once she returned to the family room and her place on the couch. She reached for the icepack and pressed it gingerly to her face. Somehow Boann and Fáelán had managed to get Rebecca into a pair of slacks and a knit top, aided by Boann’s magic no doubt.

  What they did with Rebecca’s gown, she had no idea. Hers had been stuffed in the cabinet beneath the powder-room sink. Her assailant’s hands and legs were now bound with the same rope Rebecca had used on Grayce, and she’d been moved to a chair where she slouched forward, as still as death.

  “Tell them you were walking along the trail to Mahon Falls—which is the truth—when ye came across Rebecca. Recognizing her from the news, ye tried to call the garda, and that’s when she attacked,” Fáelán said. “Worried when ye failed to show up for supper, Meredith, Angela, and I went after ye, and I was able to subdue Rebecca. We have the knife she used with your blood still on the blade, and one look at ye will be enough to convince the garda we’re telling the truth.”

  Grayce moved the icepack to her forehead just as flashing lights lit the circular driveway out front.

  “That’ll be the garda.” Fáelán strode to the front door.

  Boann performed some kind of magical gesture. Rebecca came out of her stupor, spitting and snarling threats, irate as a wet cat. Now that she was safe, Grayce found Rebecca’s performance pitiable. The woman was insane.

  “Grayce!” her sisters both cried as they followed the police through the front door.

  “My God. What happened to you?” Meredith hurried to the couch and sat down beside her. She hugged her tight. “I’ve been so worried.”

  “Ouch,” Grayce said, smiling and crying as she hugged her back. “I’m going to be fine,” she rasped out. Her gaze met Regan’s, and they shared a look that said we need to talk. Grayce needed to unburden herself to someone who understood what she was going through as only Regan could. After all, Fáelán had been stolen from her, but Regan had found a way to rescue him. That gave Grayce hope.

  The next hour went by in a blur as she gave her statement to the police. Rebecca was arrested, cuffed and hauled away, accompanied by the flash of cameras outside. Reporters had followed the garda to the house, and they conti
nued to hover outside the front door, hoping to catch a glimpse of Grayce and shouting requests for a statement.

  “Fáelán, will you go out there and make a statement for Grayce, and ask the reporters to leave?” Regan asked.

  “Aye.” He peered out the family room window. “James and Kathryn have arrived.”

  “Great. More pain on the way.” At least the kind the doctor would inflict wasn’t emotional. She swallowed a few times, and her breath went shallow.

  Fáelán opened the door for the Ahearns before stepping outside to deal with the press. James and his wife entered the family room. The elderly physician’s brow rose at the sight of her. He carried a large satchel which he set on the coffee table as he studied her.

  Kathryn gasped. “Oh, ye poor dear. Let’s get ye upstairs to bed.” She turned to her husband. “James, give the girl a shot and put her out before ye set that nose.”

  “I had planned to, Kathryn.”

  “Good.” She turned back to Grayce. “You’re going to have two black eyes for a while, I’m afraid.”

  Grayce nodded. Her dreams and her heart were irreparably shattered. Two black eyes didn’t even move the needle on her misery-meter.

  Chapter Twelve

  * * *

  Bleary-eyed and sick with worry, Brian turned to the people standing in front of his cottage, the men and women who had helped him search for his missing wife all through the night. “Go home to your beds,” he told them. His gaze drifted to the east toward the rising sun as he fought against the despair threatening to engulf him. “I’m grateful for the help ye gave me.” His voice broke.

  They hadn’t found Grayce or Rebecca. The dogs had led him to a blood-spattered spot on the ground where there’d been an obvious scuffle, and they’d tracked the drips of blood from that point to a stream. There the trail ended, disappearing along with his hope.

  “We’ll be back later to keep looking. Perhaps by the light of day we’ll see something we missed,” Dylan said as he glanced at each of the tired searchers. “Aye?”

  The looks turned Brian’s way were filled with sadness and sympathy as the group nodded or muttered their assent. The searchers took their leave, and he watched until they rounded the bend.

  “Come home with me, Brian,” his father said. “This is no time to be alone, and ye should eat something.”

  Choked by grief, by fear of what might have become of Grayce, all he could do was shake his head. He turned toward his empty cottage and left his father where he stood.

  Not a speck of dust or an item out of place could be found inside. He could almost see Grayce cleaning frenetically, keeping herself busy as she awaited his return. Loss struck him like a lance to the gut. A sob broke free, and then another. Somehow he made it to his bed, and there he collapsed. Brian buried his face in Grayce’s pillow, drawing in her scent, holding onto her presence for all he was worth. He must have fallen asleep, because he woke to the sound of someone pounding on his door.

  “Brian, ’tis me, Nevan,” the lad shouted. “I’ve been sent to summon ye to the druid’s grove.”

  Sighing, he rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. “Come in,” he called.

  He sat up and rubbed his face with both hands. “Why am I being summoned?” he asked, swinging his still-booted feet to the floor.

  “Terrible things have happened.” Nevan stood at the threshold to Brian’s bedroom.

  “Ye don’t say,” he bit out.

  “Aye. The widow who took Rebecca into her home has gone missing. Nora’s neighbor became concerned when she didn’t open her shop and wouldn’t answer her door, and she went inside to look for her. No one has seen Nora since yesterday.”

  Rebecca had to be behind Nora’s disappearance as well as Grayce’s. Rage soured Brian’s stomach.

  “That’s not all.”

  “What else?” Brian sighed.

  “After hearing of her son’s death, Helen took her own life. A man traveling from the upper village saw her as he passed the farm. She hanged herself from a tree branch.”

  Brian gasped at that bit of news. “All right. Give me a few moments.” He rubbed his face again. News of the disappearance of three women would’ve spread by now. That and the two unnatural deaths in the span of a day and night would have everyone on edge.

  “Grandda said I’m to see that ye eat something before ye head to the grove.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “He said ye’d say that, and I’m to tell ye to eat something anyway. Ye need to keep up your strength.”

  “Fine. I’ll take some jerky to eat on the way. Stir the fire under the kettle, lad. It’s already filled. I’ll be back in a moment.” Nevan left him to tend the fire, and Brian headed outside to the privy. Just as he stepped back inside, someone else knocked on his door.

  He strode across the room just as it opened. “Ma, Da,” he said moving out of the way so they could enter. His mother carried a covered bowl in her hands. He couldn’t help noticing her eyes were red and puffy.

  “I brought food,” she said, placing the bowl on his table. “Nevan stopped by our cottage on his way to yours.” His mother put her arms around his waist and laid her cheek on his chest. “It’s going to be all right, Brian. I have a feeling everything is going to work out,” she told him.

  Nothing more than wishful thinking on her part. He had no such feeling. He hugged her back, his throat too tight to say anything.

  “My presence has also been requested,” his father said. “Eat before we head for the grove.”

  Why did everyone insist he eat when he had no appetite? His mother took off the linen covering the bowl, revealing chicken stew topped with a slice of buttered bread. Sighing, he dutifully sat down and reached for one of the spoons kept in a crockery jar at the center of the table. Nevan joined them, bringing mugs and a pot of tea with him. He poured them each a cup, and the three sat down and watched him eat. Their concern and watchfulness only made it harder to swallow the food he didn’t want and couldn’t taste.

  Finally, he managed to finish the meal and drink the last mouthful of tea. “I’ll be ready in a few moments.”

  “We’ll wait outside,” his father said, as he too rose from the table.

  Brian nodded, and they left him to his empty cottage. No matter how he felt, he had a duty to his clan. He needed to put his grief aside and be strong for his people. He hurried through his ablutions and dressed in clean clothing, clothing his wife had tended for him.

  How many times had she shared with him how gender roles had changed over the years, and that housework and childcare were no longer solely a woman’s purview? How many times had he offered to trade duties with her, only to have her face scrunch adorably at the notion of mucking out the sheep shed or working in the fields on a hot day? The memory almost brought a smile to his face. Almost.

  Tying his hair back with a bit of leather lacing, he headed for his door. Only his parents waited outside for him. “Nevan headed back already?”

  “Aye.” His father nodded. “If ye don’t mind, your mother wishes to remain here at your place in case—”

  “Grayce is gone,” he said, his voice hoarse with anguish. “Though I have no way of knowing exactly what befell her, deep in my bones I know she’s gone.”

  “Don’t say that,” his mother cried. “She’ll find her way—”

  “Stay if ye wish, Ma, but doing so won’t change a thing.” His jaw clenched, Brian strode off toward the druid’s grove, his father beside him. Silence stretched between them, and he was grateful his father didn’t fill his ears with empty platitudes.

  They found the druids huddled near the sacred spring at the heart of the oak grove. Some were chanting prayers, others wore stunned looks and stared into the trees their ancestors had planted hundreds of years ago. A few of the women openly wept, and their husbands comforted them. Even the youngest boys were subdued.

  Brian understood. Their druids had cared for, healed, and provided spiritual guida
nce to their clan for nearly two millennia. Suicides and murders were unheard of. Such occurrences were considered unthinkable, not only against their laws, but against the laws of nature. In fact, Brian could not recall hearing about a single incident of either occurring during his lifetime, or during his father’s and grandfather’s lifetimes either.

  Since yesterday, he’d learned their previous chieftain had been poisoned to death by his own family. The widow Nora had opened her home to Rebecca and was now missing, and Helen had taken her own life because all her schemes had failed, and she’d been left with no one to turn to. And Grayce …

  He swallowed a few times, his gut and hands fisting into painful burls. Gods, he prayed she’d been snatched home by her fae relation and not… not… Blinking furiously, he recalled the blood on the ground. He shied away from even thinking about what that might mean.

  “Brian, Sloan,” Ceann Carraig called to them. “Come, let us talk in my cottage.” He gestured toward the path. “I am more than sorry to hear Grayce is missing, lad.” Ceann Carraig placed a hand on Brian’s shoulder.

  Not knowing how to respond, Brian nodded and remained silent. He forced his mind to other matters, like what would be discussed and the actions he must take as chieftain. The inside of Ceann Carraig’s cottage smelled of burning cedar leaves and wood sage, both used medicinally and to cleanse an area of negativity. A pot of tea and three mugs sat on the table. Nevan’s doing, no doubt.

  “This is a special tea, my own concoction. ’Tis fortifying.” Ceann Carraig filled them each a mug before taking his place at the table. “Drinking this will do us all good.”

  Brian took a seat. “What needs to be done?”

  “There are rituals we must perform to counter the evil unleashed by Rebecca, Helen and Aiden. Their actions and intentions have fouled the air, and it will remain foul, feeding upon itself and stirring strife until we stop the cycle. For that, bringing the entire clan together is absolutely necessary. Evil grows. The rituals must be performed to restore balance and to renew our sacred bonds as one united clan. Then there’s the matter of Blaine’s farm.”