I’m leaving in a few days. The distance is far, and the sacrifice too great for anyone but myself.
“Why won’t you tell me?”
You would think I am insane, like everyone else in the valley.
Rourke leaned toward her. She could feel the heat of his body. The air displaced by the signs his hands formed caressed her face. She put a hand to her cheek.
“I already think you are insane.”
A mixture of emotions flashed across Rourke’s face. If I told you a fantastic story of far-off places and forgotten times—of banishment, and love, and loss—would you believe it?
“I’ll believe what you want me to believe.”
Rays of sunlight streamed from behind Leah through a break in the clouds, glinting off of the specks in Rourke’s eyes like ice crystals in the snow. He smiled, a rare expression that transformed his face, giving him a boyish appearance.
Rourke grasped Leah’s shoulders. Close your eyes, he said.
Leah closed them, realizing after she did so that Rourke could not possibly have communicated the words to her while his hands were resting on her shoulders. Rourke’s hands were warm, and he gripped her firmly, his hands moving in a circular pattern over her shoulders, like a massage. She lifted her head toward him, hoping to feel his kiss on her lips.
An image flashed in her mind.
A walled city nestled in the crease of two mountains. Green fields, so green they seemed to glow, stretched away from the city on every side. Leah couldn’t recall seeing that image before.
Leah’s eyes flew open, and she gasped as heat from Rourke’s touch radiated up her shoulders and into the base of her neck. Rourke’s eyes were closed. He appeared to be deep in concentration.
Leah closed her eyes. The image appeared again—this time her view was closer, centered on the courtyard of a castle she had seen from afar. People of all ages crisscrossed the courtyard. Musicians played instruments, some she didn’t recognize, and their music had a peculiar effect on those around them. From the song of a flute-like device, flowers bloomed in a thriving garden. A guitarist strummed water from a rock where a line of people stood to fill clay jars and leather flasks. A woman sat with her back against a tree, singing a song that settled like mist on a feverish baby in her arms, cooling and soothing him.
The scene was a marketplace of music, Leah realized. Instead of selling wares, the peddlers were selling songs that could heal, replenish, and create. With all of the music going on, Leah was surprised at how it blended together, creating a harmonious sound that filled the air and mingled with the conversations.
A rhythmic noise caught her attention, and Leah looked toward the courtyard gate. Near the entrance to the marketplace, a group of people gathered in a circle around a raised platform. A young man danced in the midst of them, his hard-soled shoes slapping the cobblestone dais. There was something familiar about the man and his dance. He was performing a hornpipe—not one that Leah had ever learned, but the meter and rhythm were the same as the basic dance form.
Around the young man, people stood in groups or sat on mats. Creases of worry faded as he tapped out the rhythm. Prone listeners stretched their worn and weary muscles. Smiles of relief and happiness spread through the crowd. One woman clutched a young boy to her as he opened his eyes and smiled at her tears.
There was only one other time that Leah had seen healing through motion, and suddenly she knew the young man. He was younger here, in this vision, with a face scrubbed clean of any worry or care. But Leah would know his black hair and penetrating eyes anywhere. The young man was Rourke.
The image faded, but the fathomless eyes remained. Rourke kept his hands on her shoulders, his eyebrows raised in question.
Leah shuddered. “That was you, wasn’t it?” She didn’t need to hear his answer. “I saw you. You were there in—in a village of some kind. And you were dancing, healing with your dancing.”
Rourke dropped his hands from Leah’s shoulders. She wished he wouldn’t. She wanted to feel the warmth of them around her. She wanted to believe him—she needed to.
Rourke’s hands weaved a tale, difficult for Leah to comprehend, but familiar.
I came here centuries ago, banished to your world by the hands of a crafty and sinister witch, a woman whom I had trusted as a second mother. She placed a geis on me, a promised curse that bound us both and put into motion events that affect me still.
I was angry at the injustice of her betrayal. I lashed out in pain and frustration, unaware of the discord I spread on the island I had fallen to. My magic was still there inside of me, but I couldn’t express it, inhibited by the geis and its terms.
Before long, I realized that though time marched on in your world, I remained attached to mine. People I met grew old and died, and yet I remained youthful, aging little. I learned that I could express magic, not through dance or song, but through the motion of my hands.
“That’s why I can understand your sign language,” Leah realized.
Rourke nodded, looking pleased with her reaction. When I realized the damage I had done to this new land through my discord, I sought to reconcile the injury. Void of dance and song, the island I had come to sat in darkness. Teaching dance and music to the people brought joy and gladness to my aching heart.
“Ireland.” Leah shook her head, trying to process everything that Rourke said. “Are you saying that you brought music and dance to Ireland?”
Yes. The dancing you love came from my own land, the ‘land of youth.’
Heart racing, Leah grabbed onto Rourke’s arm, steadying herself. “How is that possible? Dancing in Ireland dates back to the fifteenth century.”
Rourke’s expression was guarded, and though he did not pull away, he did not respond to her touch. Now you can see why things won’t work between us. His eyes lowered to where her hand held his arm. I’ve loved here before, Leah. My selfishness caused pain and death to those whom I took for my own.
Leah stepped back. She shook her head, rubbing her arms for warmth. “I want to believe you,” she said. “It’s all so fantastic.”
It is my hope that your knowledge of what I’ve told you will ease the pain of our parting.
“Are you going home, then?”
When the moon is new, I must return home.
“Take me with you.” Her voice was a whisper. She couldn’t let him leave without her. She never wanted to be left behind again.
Rourke stared at her—his eyes were black pools of intensity. Leah straightened, looking back at him with all the courage she could gather.
He clenched and unclenched his fingers. I can’t take you with me, Rourke signed, dropping his hands to his sides.
Leah reached out to touch his arm slowly, as if he were a deer that would startle if she moved too suddenly. She carefully placed one hand on his cheek. “Why?”
His eyes searched hers, and he placed his rough hand over her wrist. Time is not the same here. You would have to give up everything and everyone you’ve ever known.
Leah could feel the heat from his body, so close to hers but connecting only where her hand touched his face. If what he said were true, would she really be able to leave behind what remained of her family, and the life she knew? Her voice faltered. “It could work.”
I know what it’s like Leah. I can’t bear to think of you that way. Rourke stared at the snow-covered mountains. There are very dangerous people who will not hesitate to hurt those I love. I can’t risk harm coming to you.
He loved her. That was all Leah needed to hear. She rubbed her thumb along his jawline, wishing she could erase the despair from his face. And then he was kissing her, his lips seeking, pushing against hers as if by so doing he could make the pain go away. She met him, relishing in the freedom of this communication without words, in the ability to hold onto Rourke and to be touched by him.
And then he was gone. He left her standing on the ice, her footing unstable. She stifled a sob. It was a long time before she pick
ed her way back through the snow to her empty house.
The day of the new moon was clear and still. The sun shone on the new-fallen snow, giving the world a crisp, fresh look.
School dragged on. All I could think about was how Rourke would get home. He had already told us his goodbyes, warning us to stay away from the Intermittent Spring. But I might never hear from Rourke again, and there was no way I would sit around and wonder if he made it. Josh and I planned to be there when Rourke left. He’d said that the most likely time for the living waters to allow him passage would be at dawn or twilight, when night met day. It made sense to go in-between worlds at an in-between time.
“Did you know that King Arthur came to Merlin across the water as a baby?” Josh sat next to me in the commons area with our sack lunches spread out in front of us. “When he died, the king was ferried across the water again to return to the otherworld.”
I leaned against Josh, licking the yogurt off of my spoon. “I’ve never heard that before. I didn’t know King Arthur was supposed to be from another world.”
“Yeah. Christa gave me a book she found that talks all about gateways to other worlds.” Josh pulled the book out of his backpack. I recognized the knotwork on the cover.
I looked across the room to where Christa sat next to Derek, eating her own lunch. When she saw me sitting next to Josh, she gave me a thumbs-up.
“Caves and bodies of water are natural gateways to other worlds.” Josh opened the book. I leaned over his arm, following along as he read. “‘Another gateway is an estuary, a place where fresh water meets the sea. A person enters the tunnel through a natural spring, and exits into a pool of seawater mixed with fresh water.’ Except the pool is in a different world.”
“I hope standing near the spring is good enough.” I thought of the shelf at the Intermittent Spring and how it sloped down into a narrow cave. “I don’t think anyone could fit through the hole. Not with the concrete supports in place.”
“I hope so, too,” Josh said. “But we both know that Cliona is not going to stand by, after hundreds of years, and let Rourke waltz through the gateway.”
The danger of Rourke’s return hit me. Of course Cliona wouldn’t allow Rourke to go home. She would do anything she could to stop him.
“McKayla, we have to make sure that Cliona follows Rourke through the portal.” Josh laced his fingers through mine. “If she stays here, you’ll never be safe.”
Josh was right, of course. I squeezed his hand. If Rourke left and Cliona stayed behind—I didn’t know how I could live under the constant threat. And yet, if the banshee followed Rourke to Tír na nÓg, could he protect himself there?
Rourke didn’t seem to be worried about what would happen after he stepped through the portal. I just hoped his confidence was well-founded.
I rode home with Josh to wait until it was time to meet Rourke. Before we reached his house, Mom called me.
“Hi, sweetie. Have you seen Zoey?” Mom didn’t sound too upset, but my stomach dropped anyway.
“No, what’s wrong, Mom?”
I mouthed Zoey’s name to Josh.
“She didn’t come home on the bus. She probably went to a friend’s house or something. Will you call me if she ends up over there?” Mom didn’t have any idea what kind of danger Zoey might be in.
I hung up, willing myself not to panic.
“Zoey is missing.”
Josh and I exchanged glances. He pushed on the gas and got us to Aunt Avril’s apartment in record time.
The rich smell of chocolate hit me as I rushed in the door. Mom was at the stove, dipping cream fondants into chocolate.
“Hi, McKayla. I thought you were spending the night at Christa’s.”
”I am, Mom. I forgot something. Did Zoey come home yet?” I grabbed my bag, which I had readied earlier with a flashlight, a first aid kit, and the salt-studded dagger.
“No, I’m about to call Kinley’s mom and see if she went over there.” Mom picked a few chocolates off of the waxed paper and put them in my hand. “Don’t worry about Zoey. Have a fun time.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I hugged her, and she squeezed me tight. For a moment I was tempted to tell Mom everything, but I didn’t know how she would react. She might not let me go, and Zoey needed me.
The drive up to the Intermittent Spring took longer than I remembered. Josh took the narrow turns at breakneck speed, and I hoped that no one would meet us coming down the canyon.
“It’s too early,” I said. Josh didn’t answer—he knew what I meant. If the banshee had taken Zoey, then a peaceful exit was not an option for Rourke. I watched the snow-covered trees flash past, praying that Zoey would be safe.
When we reached the walking trail, Josh drove around a barrier and maneuvered his car until the trail became too narrow. I was out the door and running before Josh stopped the car. The snow was deeper here than in the valley. It covered my calves and filled my shoes, but I didn’t care. Josh soon caught up to me. When we got to the joining of Swift Creek and the water that flowed down from the spring, Josh pulled me back.
“We’ve got to slow down. It would be better if Cliona didn’t see us coming.”
We hugged the side of the mountain, staying off of the trail where we would be more readily noticed. I knew Zoey was here somewhere—I could feel her fear, and it rubbed inside my chest like an open wound. The roar of the waterfall started drowning out the sounds of the forest, but soon I could make out the sound of voices, and someone crying.
“Zoey,” I whispered. Josh pulled me back and put a finger on my lips. I could hear her, but I couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from. We crept forward, careful not to make a sound. A few more steps and we were around the corner to where the trail rose up to the spring.
The mountains jutted high on either side. From where it bubbled straight out of the rock, the water cut a path through the snow and cascaded down the waterfall until it emptied into the river. Straight above the spring, the mountain curved back and up where the wind had scooped it into a staggering cliff.
Josh pointed up the trail to where a rockslide had carved a wall from the mountain, near the trail. Rourke crouched behind the wall, and I was surprised to see Leah there with him.
We stepped in the footprints they had left in the snow until we were concealed behind the wall. Leah hugged me.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered to Leah.
“I’m going with Rourke.” Leah’s eyes spoke of her uncertainty, but there was excitement there as well. She reached for Rourke’s hand. He put his arm around her, but his eyes scanned the mountainside.
I shook my head, thinking of how Leah had talked to me at the feis a few days ago, not knowing any of this. “How did you find out?”
Leah looked at Rourke. “He tried to tell me goodbye, but I wouldn’t let him.”
Rourke focused his dark eyes on me.
“Where is Zoey?” My voice broke when I said her name.
Rourke pointed over my head.
Zoey cowered on a ledge halfway up the mountain, a good seventy feet from the ground. She sat in the snow, clinging to a lone pine tree that had rooted itself in the rocks. I tensed, and Josh grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight. It took all of my willpower not to shout out to Zoey.
“We won’t leave until Zoey is safe.” Leah’s voice was full of concern.
Cliona is using Zoey as bait, Rourke signed.
“How do we turn the tables on her?” Josh asked.
She doesn’t know we are here. Otherwise she would have come for us. Rourke pointed to Josh. If I draw her out, do you think you might be able to get to Zoey?
Josh looked up at the ledge. “It’s pretty high, but I think I can climb it.”
I scanned the face of the mountain, looking for a way to climb up. How did Cliona get Zoey up there anyway?
“I have experience with rock climbing.” Josh said.
“That’s a long way to fall, Josh,” I objected. “What will you do when you re
ach her?”
“We’ll worry about that when we come to it.”
We all looked at each other. I didn’t like it. But we were running out of time.
I’ll draw them away. McKayla, you stay out of sight. Josh, get to Zoey and keep her safe. As long as Leah stays with me, we’ll make it to the portal and draw the banshee after us. Then McKayla can go for help.
Rourke was signing so fast it was hard to keep up. I knew this meant goodbye. “Thank you for helping us, Rourke.” I blinked back tears.
I embraced Rourke. He held me with one arm. Then it was Leah’s turn. She smiled through tears and whispered, “Good luck, McKayla.”
We’re Irish, Leah, Rourke signed. We make our own luck.
Then the lizard was there, hissing softly at our feet. A foul wind swept down the canyon. It smelled out of place in the winter landscape, like rotting leaves and overripe fruit. Josh wrinkled his nose. He smelled it too.
It is time, Ansul, Rourke signed.
The afternoon sun was already behind the western mountains, enshrouding the canyon in their shadow. Leah gripped Rourke’s arm, and they followed the lizard up the trail toward the spring.
They were halfway to the opening when a screeching wail filled the air. It bounced off of the mountain walls, multiplying into an echo that sounded unreal. Not one, but three hooded creatures stood on a ledge above Rourke and Leah. The banshees were gray, from their tattered cloaks to the tips of their long, claw-like nails. I shuddered, remembering the whispers in my own ear.
Cliona materialized out of nothing. She perched above the spring where the hollow had been scooped out of the mountain. She was still Mrs. Saddlebury, but she had grown younger and even more strikingly beautiful. She wore a cloak like the other banshees, but Cliona’s was white, like the frosty hair that framed her pale face. She stood confidently, with a deadly resolve etched in her perfect features. A triangular amulet hung from Cliona’s neck. A dragon encircled the three corner gems that matched the ice blue color of her eyes.
I clutched the pendant hanging from my own neck—Rourke’s amulet.
Awakening (Book One of The Geis) Page 25