“What about the farm?” Brian asked.
“No one will want to take it over for fear Helen’s scáil will haunt the place, and well she might. However, the livestock will need to be dispersed in a way that won’t cause resentment, and the crops must be tended and harvested for the good of all.”
“That should be easy enough,” his father said. “We’ll spread the word to all three villages that a lottery will be held for the livestock. Those interested can put their markers into a pot, and we’ll draw for the animals.”
“Aye, and we’ll form a group of volunteers from our valley to see to the crops. I suggest the grain be given to those with the greatest need, the elderly widows and widowers first. No one will object.” Brian crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. “Let us know when you wish to perform the rituals. Da and I will take care of the rest.”
“Two days hence at twilight, for the moon will be full then. We’ll sacrifice one of the lambs from Helen’s flock.” Ceann Carraig shifted in his chair and lifted his mug of tea. His hands were shaking. “No one came through.”
What? Confusion clouded Brian’s thinking for a moment, and then realization struck. “Oh?” He frowned.
“Aye.” The elder gazed at Brian and then at his father. “Two of our clan members have died, and three have gone missing.” Ceann Carraig seemed to age a decade as he spoke. “Yet we have not sensed any young woman’s unfamiliar presence in our valleys.”
“Shite.” The druids always sensed when a woman came through, and it usually fell to them to give the general direction where she’d be found.
“’Tis alarming for certain, but what might such an omen signify?” his father asked. “Could it be none came through because the deaths were unnatural?”
Ceann Carraig rubbed his brow. “We don’t know. This has never occurred before, not that we know of anyway.” He grunted. “There’s also the matter of Kenrick’s trial. With everything else, we are not certain how to proceed. If ye were not involved, Brian, ’twould be held in the village on the usual day ye and the elders hear grievances, but—”
A sudden cry arose outside, followed by shouts calling for Ceann Carraig. The druid uttered something under his breath, stood up and hurried for the door.
Brian looked to his father. “What now?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” His father rose from his chair and headed after the druid.
Wishing he’d brought his sword, Brian followed. Everyone gathered in the circle seemed to fix their attention on the path leading into the grove. Brian followed their gazes. Stunned, he watched as two strangers approached, not young women, but … men. The taller of the two had hair so light a shade it was nearly white, yet he appeared youthful.
Both men wore clothing similar to that worn by women who’d come through more recently, jeans made of something called denim, and T-shirts. The other man was shorter, and where the first was tall and willowy, this man was stocky and powerfully built. His shoulders and chest were broad and muscled, and he moved with the swagger of a seasoned warrior. His curly, sandy-colored hair and full beard were streaked with gray.
How had they come into the hidden realm? Brian worked his way to the front of the crowd to stand protectively in front of the druids. He widened his stance and placed his hand on the dagger he always kept at his belt. His father came to stand beside him. Shoulder to shoulder they faced the intruders. Brian was duty bound to protect his clan, no matter the cost or the consequence, and he would do so with his very last breath.
“Stop where ye are,” he called out. “Before ye take another step into this hallowed grove, tell us who ye are and what ye want.”
The shorter man, the warrior, nudged the man beside him. He said something to his companion, and the two laughed. Not at all the reaction Brian expected, and he didn’t trust either of the strangers.
Grayce wrapped her hands around her coffee mug and stared at the newspaper’s headline. Murder Suspect Captured After Attacking Hiker. Thank God Fáelán had dealt with the press yesterday, and there were no pictures of her in the paper. If anyone asked why her eyes were black and blue, and why she wore an awkward plastic form taped over her nose, she could tell them she’d been in a car accident.
There was, however, a picture of Rebecca Hurley, who had allegedly smothered an elderly woman with a pillow as she was sleeping—after she’d robbed the woman of all her savings. Rebecca had been hired to assist the woman so she could stay in her own home. “Insane.”
“What’s that, Grayce?” Regan asked as she strolled into the kitchen.
“The woman who tried to kill me is in the news this morning. I wonder if she thought she could just do away with me and return to the village as if nothing had happened? She’s insane. She has to be.”
“Clearly.” Regan poured herself a cup of coffee and held up the pot. “Do you need a refill?”
“It’s been three months since I’ve had access to coffee. Yes. I need a refill.” Perhaps drinking copious amounts of coffee would help lift the overwhelming lassitude that had her in its grip. Her arms and legs were more like sandbags than appendages. “Where’s Conan?”
“Fed and down for his morning nap. Fáelán is on daddy duty this morning.” Regan filled Grayce’s mug and placed a carton of cream on the table. “Are you ready to talk?”
“Yes, but not here,” she said. The last thing she needed was to have her parents or her twin walk into the kitchen while she bared her soul.
“I was thinking the sunroom.”
“Perfect.” Grayce added cream to her coffee, pushed her chair back and stood up. “Lead the way. I’m right behind you.”
The sunroom, situated off the formal living room, stood on the opposite side of the house from the informal family room which was where everyone usually gathered. She followed her sister to the French doors leading into the bright room, and did her best to keep her weight off her injured leg. Dr. Ahearn promised to bring her a cane today.
Large windows took up all three sides of the bright and airy sunroom with its high ceiling and fan. Comfy rattan furniture, upholstered in bright pink and green flowery fabric, filled the space, and a few potted ferns stood on wooden stands near the windows.
Grayce gingerly settled herself on the couch and lifted her injured leg to rest on the ottoman. She cradled her coffee mug on her lap. “I’m married,” she blurted as tears filled her eyes. “Not only that, but I love Brian more than I ever believed possible, and … and … now I’m h-here, and he’s there.”
“Oh, Grayce.” Her big sister sank down on the couch beside her. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything.
She did. Everything that had happened since the day she’d gone on the hike to Mahon Falls poured out of her. By the time she finished, she was exhausted again—exhausted and empty. “I asked Boann if I could go back, and she said no.”
“You’d go back if you could?” Regan asked.
“Don’t sound so surprised.” Grayce frowned. “Wouldn’t you do the same to be with Fáelán?”
“If the only way to save Fáelán from Morrigan’s clutches meant staying in the third century? Yeah, I would.” Regan patted Grayce’s arm. “Perhaps once the fae council comes to a decision regarding the clan, something can be worked out. Perhaps your husband might be given the choice to join you here. As much as the fae come across as amoral to us, they do view marriage as sacred.”
“Did you not hear Boann mention it might take generations for the fae to reach a decision?” She swallowed a few times. “Even if it only takes a few weeks, I doubt Brian will be given a choice, married or not. Besides, his sense of duty to his people always comes before his personal wishes. He’s a chieftain, and the Baiscne clan is facing an uncertain future. I couldn’t ask him to leave, not that I’d have the chance anyway.” She shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable.
“But if it could be arranged, you’d return to him, never to see your family again?”
“The thing is
, even though I missed you all terribly, I was happy there in a way that I’ve never experienced before. The simple lifestyle did me a world of good, and not only do I love Brian, but I love his parents as well. I was accepted for who and what I am there. I felt valued, and that had nothing to do with my giftedness. I even started training to become a healer. Yet, I always felt torn between two worlds and the people I love. There’s no easy answer for me.”
“I don’t know what to say, Grayce. I know firsthand how torn you feel, and I also know what it’s like to be ripped from the arms of the man you love.”
“I know you do.” Grayce let loose a long sigh and rubbed her temples. “I doubt the fae will resolve the issue this week, and our flight home is booked for Saturday. I’ve lost my job, and I haven’t paid my rent for July and August, and now I’m injured. I’ll be returning to a mess.”
“I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad paid your rent. Have you told them you’re married?”
She shook her head. “I gave them the basics of what happened to me and where I’ve been, but I don’t see the point in telling them about Brian. They’d hover, fuss, and worry that this might kick me off the wagon. I couldn’t bear that on top of everything else. Meredith knows, but I’ve sworn her to secrecy.”
“I’m sorry, Grayce.” She patted her again. “You know Meredith won’t keep your secret from them for long if she thinks you need extra hovering, fussing, and worrying over.”
“I know.” She bit her lip for a second. “Maybe this is karma.”
Regan leaned forward and set her mug on the glass-topped coffee table. “What on earth do you mean?”
“I caused everyone so much emotional distress while I tried to obliterate my visions with drugs and alcohol. I was so selfish back then. I never gave anyone else’s feelings a passing thought.” She closed her stinging eyes. “I fell in love with a man who always puts his family and clan first. Always. I … I don’t deserve him. I never did. Maybe this situation is payback for all the misery I’ve caused others.”
“Oh my God, Grayce, this is not karma. You’re a strong, compassionate, wonderful human being, and you deserve happiness.” Regan threw her arms around her and pulled her in for a fierce hug.
“But I—”
“You were so young when all that happened. Having visions and sensing other people’s emotions made everything difficult, and you’ve always been a sensitive soul. All adolescents are self-centered, especially around the time puberty hits. That’s normal.”
“I don’t know about that, Regan.”
“Well I do, because I’ve been reading a ton of child development and parenting books.” Regan gave her a little shake. “We’re proud of the way you dealt with your issues and turned your life around. The rough patch you went through has nothing at all to do with your current situation.”
She nodded, but she wasn’t convinced. Worse, the siren in her head urged her to seek temporary relief through the oblivion of intoxication. And, the bar in the family room on the other side of the house was always fully stocked.
Chapter Thirteen
* * *
“Sorry we’re late,” the stockier of the intruders called out. “That being said, this oak grove is sacred because my kin and clan made it so.” He gestured to the taller man. “This is my cousin, Alpin, and I’m—”
“Fionn MacCumhaill?” Ceann Carraig muttered under his breath. “But … that cannot be.”
Brian glanced askance at him. The trembling druid looked as if his knees might buckle at the slightest breeze. Brian placed a hand beneath his elbow, offering support.
“Aye, this is Fionn MacCumhaill, grandson of the Tuatha dé Danann king Nuada of the Silver Hand,” Alpin answered.
“You heard the druid?” Brian’s father asked, his eyes wide.
“The Tuatha dé Danann have exceptional hearing and eyesight.” Fionn nodded slightly. “May we approach?”
His request was met with stunned silence and intense scrutiny. Brian could almost hear the thoughts of those around him echoing inside his mind. Those same thoughts occurred to him as well. Was this a trick? Were these men who they said they were? If so, they had a lot to answer for, since they’d abandoned na Baiscne nearly seventeen hundred years ago. That hardly seemed possible.
Ceann Carraig straightened and lifted his chin. “Forgive our skepticism, but we’ve long believed Fionn and his fae cousin were dead. After all, both promised to return to our valleys once the fighting between the kings of Éire ceased. Neither made good on that vow. Other than death itself, what possible reason could there be to renege?” His bushy brows lowered, and his eyes narrowed. “Who are ye really, and how have ye come to our hidden vales?”
Not only that, but what did these two hope to gain, and how had they learned of the clan’s hidden world? Brian’s chest swelled with admiration and pride for their head druid. Not only was he wise, but brave.
The one calling himself Fionn crossed his arms over his chest. “The reasons we failed to return to na Gleannta Bhfolach is a long tale indeed. ’Twas Alpin and my druids who wove the magic hiding our valleys. That is how and why we were able to come through today, and why we prevented any women from entering.”
“Why now? What brought you to us today?” he added
“As to why, the fae kings and council have only recently become aware of these hidden valleys. Since the land and my clan were hidden by fae magic, the fae council believes they must be the ones to decide what is to become of us.” Fionn looked over his shoulder toward the path they’d taken into the grove.
“Might there be a public house nearby? I did see a village when we came through. If I’m to tell the tale, a flagon of ale would go a long way toward seeing the job done properly, aye?”
Sloan turned to Ceann Carraig. “I’m inclined to agree. After all the shocks of late, perhaps a pint might do us a bit of good.”
“Aye, sounds reasonable,” Brian added. Truth be told, he had a burning desire to ask the fae if he knew what became of Grayce. Given their sudden appearance, and his wife’s sudden disappearance, the two visitors might know something. No one could’ve left without aid.
“All right,” Ceann Carraig said. “We’ll go to the Goose & Gander. Our chieftain here will lead the way.” He placed his hand on Brian’s shoulder and gave him a little push.
Brian arched a brow at the druid, but then he too squared his shoulders and approached the intruders. He didn’t think the two men meant them any physical harm, but he kept his hand on his dagger all the same.
Smirking, Fionn waited until Brian stood before him. “Ye seem a bit young to be chieftain. What might ye be called, laddie?”
“Brian,” he answered. “And this is my father, Sloan.” He gestured to his father who’d joined him. “The druid who spoke is Ceann Carraig.”
“Well, Brian MacSloan, lead on.” Fionn swung his arm in a wide arc toward the path. “Ye’ve naught to fear from us. I am the head chieftain of this clan, after all.”
“Not any longer, ye aren’t. Not after seventeen centuries without a word,” Brian bit out. That elicited a snort from the stocky warrior.
True, Brian recognized his own impulses well enough. Wallowing in his own misery had Brian itching for a fight. Striking out and being pummeled in return might help him forget the grief tearing him apart from the inside out, for a short while anyway.
The two newcomers fell in behind him as he led them down the narrow path toward the village. Brian’s neck prickled with unease at having the two strangers at his back. If Alpin truly was Tuatha dé Danann, he was a demigod, capable of magic the likes of which he couldn’t imagine. Was it any wonder the fae’s presence gave him goose bumps?
As if he’d heard Brian’s thoughts, Alpin grunted. “We’ve caused these mortals a great deal of needless anxiety with our sudden appearance, cousin. I told you this would happen, and if you’ll recall, I suggested we dress as they do, rather than—”
“Aye, but not nearly as much trouble as they’v
e caused ye.” Fionn also grunted. “Under sanctions ye are for hiding these vales without approval. None would ever have known had it not been for King Lir’s granddaughter meddling in mortal affairs yet again. She was caught in the act,” he muttered. “’Tis she who should be sanctioned.”
Boann had meddled? That had to mean she’d come for Grayce after all. If so, he could only hope the fae princess had gotten to her in time, for he had no doubt Rebecca meant to kill her.
“Ye can’t lay the blame at anyone else’s feet but your own,” Brian replied. “The magic hiding our valleys is unraveling despite everything our druids have tried. ’Tis certainly not King Lir causing the magic to weaken, nor is it his granddaughter. Fate brought Boann’s kinswoman to us, and the right of kinship forced the fae princess to become involved.”
“Have a care, laddie. Don’t forget who you’re speaking to.” Fionn’s tone carried the authority of a man accustomed to being obeyed.
“I’m stating the obvious. Whether or not ye take offense matters not in the least to me.” Walking through the village caused quite a stir. Two strangers, and men at that, led by himself and trailed by gray-robed druids walking together like a gaggle of geese presented quite a spectacle.
Soon, they were subjected to the curious stares of onlookers, and by the time he reached the pub, nearly half the village had joined them. The other half were probably already inside the Goose & Gander. Likely they’d gathered to discuss all the atrocities committed since yesterday.
Curiosity and alarm hovered above his people like a hive of bees ready to swarm. Brian stopped at the pub’s door, which was propped open to let in the fresh air. He turned to face the crowd.
“I’m certain ye’ve all heard the news by now, so I see no reason to elaborate.” He spoke loud enough that his voice would carry to those inside the Goose & Gander. “Aiden and Kenrick from the upper village plotted to push me over the edge of a cliff yesterday. Thankfully, I was forewarned. Aiden is dead, and Kenrick is being held in the druid’s smokehouse until he can be tried.” Many gasped; some of the women covered their mouths, and some placed a hand over their hearts.
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