by Jodi McIsaac
“What’s going on?” he asked as soon as the door closed behind them, giving the messenger a curious look. Cedar told him what the boy had said.
“Can you come with me to close the sidh that Eden opened to Jane’s place?” she asked. “I still think it’s a good idea for you to talk to her after that. She shouldn’t be alone right now. I’ll stay with Felix for a while to see what’s up with Jane.”
Finn nodded. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?” he asked the boy.
“No, sir,” the boy replied. “Only that I was asked to come here and tell the queen that her friend was in danger.”
“It must be bad if Felix brought her back here,” Cedar said. She frowned as she opened a sidh that led just outside Felix’s house. “It’s okay,” she said to the boy, who was looking at the glimmering patch of air with alarm. He and Finn followed Cedar through the sidh to the cluster of boulders that concealed the entrance to Felix’s house. Cedar pressed on a round stone, and one of the boulders slid away to reveal a curving staircase. The air around them grew brighter as they descended, and she could hear the boulder sliding back into place at the top of the stairs. The first time she had visited Felix’s house, she had laughed and called it the “man cave,” although it was certainly more spectacular than any cave she had ever seen. The walls were smooth slate gray, and the rooms were all airy and expansive.
The still-open sidh to Earth was visible in the front room of his house, shimmering in the air. Finn walked over and closed it with a wave of his arm. Then he gave Cedar a tight hug. “Good luck,” he said. “You take care of Jane, and I’ll take care of Eden. Hopefully we can do something to salvage her birthday.”
“Okay,” Cedar said. “Keep me posted.” Finn headed back up the staircase to let himself out.
The messenger boy was still hovering nearby. “He’s back here,” he said, and Cedar followed him toward what Felix called his “halls of healing,” a labyrinth of small rooms connected by silver doors and glowing white hallways. According to Felix, it had been built by his grandfather, Dian Cecht, one of the Elders. Felix’s mother, also a healer, had added on several rooms, and Felix had been refining each of the rooms’ special abilities. Some rooms increased relaxation, others numbed pain, and still others lowered the body temperature or had anti-inflammatory properties.
The hallway was illuminated by floating orbs of light that drifted along the ceiling. The boy stopped so suddenly Cedar almost ran into him. “He’s just in there,” he said, pointing to a door on the left that was open a crack. He stayed in the hallway while she pushed it open.
The sight in front of her was pure chaos. Felix and Jane were in the center of the room. For a split second Cedar thought she’d walked in on a personal moment again, but then she realized that Felix was trying to restrain Jane. Her hair was plastered to her head, and her face was red and shining with sweat. She was fighting him as hard as she could, straining toward the bed in the corner, where a young man lay supine. “Let me go to him!” she was yelling in a shrill voice.
“Jane?” Cedar asked, her jaw dropping.
Her friend turned at the sound of her name. “You,” she said, her voice filled with venom. “You’ve come to take him away from me, haven’t you? I won’t let you! Don’t go near him!”
“What the hell is going on?” Cedar asked.
Felix jerked his head toward the corner. “He’s a gancanagh. Jane’s infected.”
Cedar had never heard of a gancanagh. She looked at the man on the bed. He appeared to be young, maybe in his twenties, with pale, smooth skin and a tumble of dark curls. He was beautiful, and she felt something stir pleasantly inside her. At first she thought he was unconscious, but then he opened his eyes and looked directly at her.
“The queen. At last,” he whispered.
Cedar moved closer to the bed, ignoring Jane’s wails of protest. She was about to ask the stranger who he was and where he had come from, when Jane finally managed to wrench herself free of Felix’s grasp. She rushed toward Cedar and slapped away her hands.
“He’s mine. Don’t touch him,” she snarled.
Cedar’s eyes widened. “What’s going on?” she asked again. “Why are you acting like this?”
“I love this man. He is mine. And that—beast,” Jane spat, jerking her head at Felix, “is trying to keep us apart.”
Cedar looked in horror at Felix, who was rummaging through one of the cabinets lining the wall, his jaw clenched. “Don’t let her touch him,” he said to Cedar, not looking up. Just as he said it, Jane tried to make a lunge for the man on the bed, but Cedar grabbed her arm and held it tight.
“Let go!” Jane snarled. “You’re hurting me!”
“Talk to me!” Cedar pleaded. “What do you mean, you love this man? Who is he? What about Felix?”
But Jane didn’t have a chance to answer, because Felix had crept up behind her and held a handful of crushed petals under her nose. She started to jerk away, but it was too late—she inhaled deeply, and then her eyes closed and she fell backward into the healer’s arms.
“Thank you,” Felix said to Cedar. He settled Jane in an overstuffed chair in the corner. “That’ll keep her down for the moment.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Cedar asked.
“Irial is a gancanagh, a male succubus,” Felix said, his eyes still fixed on Jane. “Not like the leannán sí that bit Finn,” he added when he noticed the look on Cedar’s face. “The male and female succubi are quite different—the only similarity is that they attract and ensnare humans. He didn’t need to bite her. Irial’s skin is toxic to human women—it drives them mad with love. He says he came to Jane looking for you, and she touched him. At first…well, I wasn’t sure what I was seeing, but then I recognized Irial.”
“You’ve met him before?”
“It was a long time ago. I was at a festival in Derry, visiting a, um, friend. This was before the sidhe were closed, obviously. I hadn’t seen one of his kind in years, so I thought they were extinct. Anyway, I recognized what he was right away. Either he was incredibly cruel, or he didn’t have a clue what he was doing.”
“What was he doing?”
“He was out in public in a human town, for starters. Just walking around the festival as if he owned the place. There were women all around, and any one of them could have brushed against him by accident. As I watched, he started chatting with one, this pretty young girl with a basket of flowers. She was holding out a flower for him to buy, and he was reaching for her hand. That was when I intervened.”
“Intervened?”
“I basically threw him over my shoulder and removed him from the situation. Then I gave him a lecture I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten.”
“But he didn’t know what he was? He wasn’t trying to hurt the girl, was he?”
“No,” Felix said. “He knew women liked him, but he never stayed in one place long enough to find out what happened to them after he left. He was devastated, and I don’t blame him. Why these creatures even exist in the first place is beyond me.”
“So what will happen to Jane?”
Felix’s tone was grim. “If I hadn’t found her, she would have gone mad with love and eventually died.”
“What?” Cedar said, swiveling around to look at her sleeping friend. “But that’s not going to happen now, is it?”
His jaw hardened. “No,” he answered, but didn’t elaborate. Cedar started breathing again.
She looked down at Irial, who was silently watching them. “What’s wrong with him? Is he sick?”
“Ask him yourself,” he answered. “It seems so. But I don’t know why. He says he needs to speak to you. I’m going to move Jane into another room so that I can start a healing potion for her. I haven’t had the time to properly question him yet. You don’t need to worry. He can’t infect you, only humans.”
Felix hoisted Jane into his arms and left the room without sparing Irial another glance. Cedar drew up a chair beside the bed and sat down.
Irial’s dark eyes were fixed on her, and she felt a warm, tingling feeling in her stomach again.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” he said, his hoarse voice sending a thrill up her back. “I really did try to warn her.”
“Well, here I am,” she said. “Why did you want to see me?”
“A great sickness has come upon the Unseen. Logheryman said you might be able to help us.”
“The Unseen?” Cedar asked.
He gave her a strange look, and she assumed this was yet another thing she should know. “The magical beings of Ériu, like myself. The Merrow. Leprechauns. Pixies. And others.”
“What kind of sickness?” she asked.
In a faltering voice, Irial told her about the strange illness that had fallen upon the selkies, and his travels, which had eventually led him to her. “Then I met this woman in the woods,” he continued, “who said she was one of the fili.”
“Maggie?” Cedar asked, relieved to finally know something.
Irial nodded. “She kept her distance, but she led me to Logheryman. He’s the one who told me to find you. He said he was sure you could help us.”
Irial looked at her with desperate, imploring eyes. He seemed so lost, so helpless lying there on the bed, and he had risked so much to find her. She reached out a hand to brush one of the curls off his forehead, but checked herself.
“Is Logheryman sick too?” she asked.
“Yes, and worse than I am, I’m afraid, which is why he sent me to search for you rather than coming himself. He gave me his thousand-league boots to make the journey. I don’t think he has much time left.”
“What do you mean? Is he dying?”
Irial nodded.
Cedar’s heart constricted painfully. “Is it contagious?” she asked. “Will it spread to all of the Unseen? And then to us?” As far as she knew, she and Felix were the only Danann to have come in close contact with the gancanagh; perhaps if they quarantined themselves they could keep this sickness from spreading.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “When I found the púka, he was already sick. And the leprechaun too. The different species of the Unseen do not have so much contact with each other that it would spread that quickly. I do not believe that either the humans or the Tuatha Dé Danann are at risk.”
“We’re going to help you,” Cedar said earnestly, leaning toward him. “You don’t have to worry.”
“Don’t make promises I can’t keep, Your Majesty,” said a voice from behind her. Felix was standing in the doorway, his face still hard.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He moved a few paces away and gestured for her to join him. “At this point I have no idea what’s wrong with him—or with any of the other Unseen—if he’s telling the truth,” he said in an undertone.
“You think he’s lying?”
“I don’t know. The gancanagh are known to be…devious. It might just be coincidence that the beings he ran into were also sick.” When Cedar continued to look unconvinced, he added, “Look, I know for a fact that he didn’t stop getting involved with women after I told him what he was. There have been too many reports of women wasting away from a broken heart.”
“And you think that’s because of him?”
“There are signs,” he answered. “I’m just saying that we shouldn’t be so quick to trust him.”
“But Logheryman sent him to get help,” Cedar insisted. “He even gave him his thousand-league boots, and you know how much he values those. Are you saying there’s nothing you can do?”
“No. But it will take time for me to figure out what’s making him sick. And right now my priority is Jane.”
Cedar couldn’t argue with this. “Should I take her back to Halifax?”
“No. Her metabolism is running so high right now that she’ll burn through the sedative I gave her quicker than I’d like. I need to figure out exactly what the toxin is doing to her, so I’ll have to ask Irial a few questions. She’s in the next room, and could wake at any moment. Will you stay with her?”
“Of course.”
“Restrain her physically if you have to,” he said. “She needs to stay away from him. I’ll work as fast as I can.”
Sparing one last glance at Irial, Cedar slipped into the hallway. When she pushed open the silver doorway to the next room, Jane was trying to sit up, looking around in confusion.
Cedar rushed to her friend’s side at once. Jane blinked at her, and Cedar was reminded of Eden when she woke in the middle of the night and didn’t know where she was. Then Jane’s face crumpled and she started to sob. Cedar wrapped her in an embrace.
“I…need you…to do something for me,” Jane whispered between sobs.
“Of course,” Cedar said at once. “Anything.”
“Please. Don’t let him cure me.”
“Oh, Jane,” Cedar said, drawing her friend in closer.
Several minutes later Jane was still crying, but she jerked up her head when the door opened. When she saw Felix, her lips drew back in a snarl.
“Where is he?” she demanded. “What have you done with him?”
“Can I talk to you?” he said stiffly to Cedar.
Cedar joined Felix in the hallway, ignoring her friend’s fevered protests.
“We can’t leave her alone for too long,” he said. “She might hurt herself.”
“Did you find out how to cure her?”
“It can be done,” he told her in a whisper. “I can isolate and remove the toxin, and she should recover. It’s just…” He glanced at the closed door, through which Jane’s sobs were still audible.
“What is it?”
“The toxin makes her believe she is in love with him, as you know. And obviously, it’s very, very strong. So the withdrawal will also be very intense. She will feel as though someone she loved more than anything in the world has died. I’m afraid it will be very painful for her.”
Cedar winced. She remembered all too well the pain she’d experienced when Finn left her, how she’d barely been able to function for months. For Jane to have to go through such intense pain just because she’d tried to help a stranger seemed like the worst kind of injustice.
“It’s the only way,” he whispered. “And I need to act fast.”
“What can I do?” Cedar said.
“Just being with her will help. The process won’t hurt her physically, but she’ll be in deep emotional grief.” He smiled sadly. “They say you can love even more after you know what it’s like to lose, right? So hopefully…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but Cedar could read the fear on his face. She tried to smile back at him.
“It’s not easy,” she said. “But yes, love can come back.”
Several hours later, Cedar lay staring at the ceiling, drenched in her best friend’s tears—and her own. Jane was finally asleep beside her. Cedar had held her down while Felix forcibly injected her with the antidote to Irial’s toxin. Jane had cried and screamed and cursed and begged them to let her die, but instead they’d only given her more until Felix was certain all of the toxin had been neutralized by the antidote. She closed her eyes and listened to Jane’s even breathing, glad that her friend had finally found some peace in sleep. She thought about what Irial had told her; now that she knew Jane was going to survive, her thoughts were returning to the Unseen. What could possibly be making the magical beings on Earth sick? Felix had examined Irial thoroughly at her request, and had found no trace of disease or decay, no poison, no obvious wounds. He had checked for viruses, infections, enchantments—everything. There was nothing to explain it. Cedar rubbed her temples. There was also the druid woman to worry about, and whatever she was hiding. And Eden…Cedar had missed most of her birthday. She had talked to her earlier using the starstone, so at least she’d gotten the chance to say good night. Eden had excitedly told her about her new presents, which had included her very own lute—which taught its owner how to play it—and a tiny dragon figurine, which came to life whenever you put it in
fire. Cedar had taken this as a sign that she was forgiven for the party fiasco.
Just a few minutes of sleep, she told herself, willing her body to relax. And when I wake, I’ll know exactly what to do about everything…
The next thing she knew, she was sitting in a rocking chair on the veranda of the home where she was raised. The sun was sparkling off the bay, and she could hear the seagulls as they screeched and circled above.
“Here you go, dear.”
Maeve was sitting in the chair next to her, her lap covered by a hand-knit afghan. She was holding out a tall glass tumbler of lemonade.
“Mum,” Cedar whispered, accepting the glass. She took a sip and puckered. It was sour, nothing like the sickly sweet concoction her mother had always made for her as a child.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Maeve asked, looking out over the ocean.
Cedar followed her gaze. Instead of seagulls, a dragon was circling overhead, small bursts of flame occasionally erupting from its mouth. She looked down and watched as the long curved neck of a sea serpent emerged from the ocean. It stretched out, looked toward shore, and then disappeared back under the waves.
“Where are we?” Cedar asked, but Maeve didn’t answer. She just kept gazing out over the ocean, rocking back and forth in the wooden chair.
“Your father used to sit in that chair, you know,” Maeve said. “We spent hours out here. Just talking. He used to say it was one of his favorite places on Ériu.”
“Are you…,” Cedar began, not sure how to phrase it. “Where are you? Are you…with him now?”
“I’ve gone on,” Maeve answered simply. “It’s nothing you will ever need to worry about, if you keep yourself out of trouble, that is. Tell me, dear, how are you doing?”
“Fine,” Cedar said automatically, but then she felt words gushing from her mouth like a faucet that had been suddenly unblocked. “No, not fine. Not really. I’m worried about Eden; all she wants is to be Tuatha Dé Danann, but I’m not the one who can help her with that, since I’m just figuring it out for myself. I try to reach out to her, but it feels like she’s pulling away from me. I keep thinking maybe she blames me for everything that has happened—for getting kidnapped, for you dying, and for everything that has happened since. But she doesn’t like to talk about it; when I bring it up, she just pretends everything is okay. Then there’s this druid woman who worked with Liam, and she says she wasn’t involved, but she knows something—the goblet proved that. And now there’s this problem with the leprechauns and selkies and who knows what else here on Earth, but Felix says he doesn’t know how to help them. If I don’t do something about it, though, I think they’re all going to die. And I don’t know how to handle any of it. And Finn…I’m so glad he’s back, but I can’t help but worry that I’m going to lose him again. It feels like it’s too good to be true.”