by Jodi McIsaac
“I think we should go see Brighid,” Finn said. “She helped us find the Lia Fáil against crazy odds; maybe she can help us now.”
“She helped us find the Lia Fáil by sending us to Abhartach,” Cedar pointed out. “But you’re right—she might know something we don’t. We’ll go to Brighid’s. And if she can’t help, Helen’s going to answer to me.”
Cedar opened the sidh to the front gate of Brighid’s island home. She’d half expected it wouldn’t work; the last time they’d tried to visit Brighid without an invitation, they hadn’t been able to open the sidh onto her property. But the Elder goddess had either lowered the security or was expecting their arrival. It was late evening in Thailand. The horizon was a deep purple, and a white moon hung in the sky, just brushing the top of the mountains that rose from the ocean like silent sentinels. Cedar pressed the silver button and the gate slid down silently. When they entered the front hall, it was not their friend who met them, but Vanessa, one of her human attendants.
“We’ve come to see Brighid,” Cedar said.
“Yes,” Vanessa said. “She will see you.” She led them to the balcony overlooking the ocean.
Brighid was sitting in a wicker chair lined with a flowered cushion, her back to them as she stared out over the ocean, watching the moon rise. A deep blue shawl was draped over her shoulders. She did not turn, though she must have heard them arrive.
“Brighid?” Cedar said. Slowly, the goddess turned her head, and Cedar could not keep a shout of surprise from escaping her lips. Brighid’s once flawless skin was now an emetic shade of gray, like porridge left out on the counter too long. Her prominent cheekbones were still there, but the skin was pulled so tightly around them that it gave her a skeletal appearance. Her eyes were sunken and rimmed with black. Her lips, once full of color, were so pale they could barely be distinguished from the rest of her face. Her normally lustrous hair hung lank around her shoulders. Her dull eyes passed over them, but then she turned back to the ocean without a word. Cedar rushed to her side and took one of her hands in her own. It was like holding a butterfly—she worried she might crush it if she held on too tight.
Felix had rushed to Brighid’s other side. He looked completely bewildered by the state of her. “How is this possible?” he whispered. “What’s happened to you?”
There was a long silence, and then Brighid’s lips parted. When she spoke, it was in a paper-thin whisper, a marked contrast from her usually strong and confident voice.
“My time…is over,” Brighid said, her eyes never leaving the horizon.
“No,” Felix said fiercely. “There must be some explanation. This is impossible. We don’t get sick.”
Finn looked utterly lost. Cedar reached out a hand and drew him over to her. He sat down next to her at Brighid’s feet, looking up at his friend imploringly. “Brid, please, tell us what has happened. Tell us how we can help you.”
A faint smile flickered over Brighid’s wasted face, and she stretched out a bony hand to cup Finn’s cheek. “You must let me go, Fionnbharr. There is nothing that can be done for me. For any of them.”
“Any of them?” Cedar repeated softly. “Do you mean the Unseen? We’ve just been to see Abhartach—he’s sick too. So are all of them, from what we can tell. Is this the same thing? But the rest of the Danann aren’t sick. It doesn’t make sense.”
“I should have been the first to die,” Brighid whispered. “Leave me. I will be gone soon…but not soon enough.”
Cedar and the others exchanged startled glances. “Brighid, this isn’t you talking,” she said. “Let us help you. Tell us what we can do and we’ll do it!” Normally, Cedar would have expected a sharp retort—or a peal of laughter. But instead Brighid stayed silent.
“Of course,” Felix breathed, understanding dawning across his face.
“What?” Cedar asked.
“She was the one who made the deal,” he answered. “Didn’t you?” He looked at Brighid, but she didn’t seem to hear him. He stood up, and Cedar and Finn pushed themselves to their feet too. “It makes sense,” he continued. “Let’s assume that Helen’s story about the Unseen is true, and that the jewels exist. None of the Unseen has the power to wield such a spell. And where did the jewels come from in the first place? Brighid cast the spell, so she is bound to it, just as the Unseen are.”
“Is that true?” Cedar asked Brighid. “Why didn’t you tell us? Does that mean you know where the jewels are?”
Brighid’s shoulders slumped, and Finn lunged forward to catch her before she fell out of her chair. “It is true,” she whispered. “And the jewels are gone. I was a fool. I deserve my fate.” Her eyes closed, and she slumped forward. Felix lifted her into his arms and gently laid her down on one of the balcony’s lounge chairs.
“Is she…?” Cedar asked in alarm.
“No,” he answered. “She’s only sleeping. But she is very weak.”
“This can’t happen,” Cedar said, starting to pace the balcony. “There has to be another way.” Then the solution came to her in a rush of adrenaline. She felt dizzy with the shock of it. Of course. There was another way.
“Cedar?” Finn asked, his eyes wary. “I recognize that look. What are you thinking?”
“We’ve been assuming that the only way to help the Unseen is to break their bond with the humans. But we can’t do that because the jewels are lost. What we can do is convince the humans to believe in magic again, by showing them real proof. Once enough of them believe in magic, the spell should kick in again, and the Unseen will get better.”
For a moment, Felix and Finn were both perfectly still. Then they both spoke at the same time: “No.”
“What do you mean, no? If we don’t do anything, the Unseen are all going to die. Including Brighid,” Cedar said, her voice rising.
“I know it probably seems like an obvious solution to you, Cedar, but hear me out,” Felix said. “It’s true that the humans used to know about us, but that was a very, very long time ago. If they found out there were magical beings out there who never grew old, who could grant their every wish, they would stop at nothing in their efforts to access that power.”
“So what do you suggest? That we just let the Unseen die? I can’t stand by while that happens. I won’t. I’m the only one who needs to make a scene—I won’t expose the rest of us. They don’t even need to know that Tír na nÓg exists.”
“And if you’re captured?” Finn asked darkly.
“Then I’ll escape through the sidhe.”
“Even if you’re unconscious?” he asked. “And let’s say you’re right—you know you can’t close the sidhe. You could be followed. If you came back to Tír na nÓg, you might lead their armies straight to us.”
“Well, then, I wouldn’t use the sidhe,” Cedar said stubbornly. “But once I explain what I am, and show them what I can do, they’ll have to believe in magic. I’m living proof.”
“You can’t…” Finn’s voice broke. “Cedar, you don’t know what they’ll do to you. You wanted to leave Ériu in the first place because you were afraid of the tests they’d run on Eden if they found out about her.”
“Yes, because she’s a child.”
“There must be another way!” he said. “We don’t know for sure that the jewels aren’t still here. Maybe the illness clouded Abhartach’s ability—maybe he was wrong! We need to keep looking!”
“Finn, look at Brighid,” Cedar said, waving her arm toward their friend. “We don’t have time. This plan will work. I know you’re worried about me, but I can do this without getting hurt.”
“You don’t know that!” he exploded. “Let’s take a second to think about human history! It’s a pattern that happens over and over again—the humans find someone they think is a god, and at first they worship him. Or her. But then they start blaming that god for everything that goes wrong, demanding more than he or she is able to give. And then they decide that god is to blame for all of their problems, and all of a sudden he or she i
s public enemy number one.”
“Finn, you’re exaggerating. It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“It is that way! Look at Jesus, for Christ’s sake! Look what happened to him! Joan of Arc! Rasputin! There are dozens of examples!”
“It’s not going to come to that. I won’t be there for long enough,” she said quietly. “And even if it did, in the absolute worst-case scenario, don’t you think some things are worth dying for? Isn’t my single life worth the lives of all the Unseen?”
Finn’s eyes were burning into hers. “Not to me,” he said. “Not to Eden.”
Cedar turned away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Then she opened a sidh to her bedroom in Tír na nÓg.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m going to get Jane,” Cedar said. “She must be wondering what’s happened to us. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared through the sidh before he could stop her, and was relieved when he didn’t follow. She did want to make sure Jane was okay, but for the most part she just wanted a few quiet moments to think. Could she really go through with this plan? Would it work? Would she be putting her people in jeopardy? Herself?
“Jane?” she called out. “It’s okay; it’s just me.” She jogged around the pond and through the field of poppies, calling her friend’s name. There was no answer.
Is nothing simple? she thought as she pushed open the door leading to the willow-lined courtyard. She expected to see Jane chatting with Riona on one of the benches, but the room was totally empty.
Now she was starting to worry. “Where, oh where have you gone, my friend?” she muttered under her breath. Then she stopped in her tracks and smacked herself on the forehead. How could she have been so stupid? She immediately made a sidh leading to Felix’s house. “Jane?” she yelled. She ran through the rooms, trying to remember where Felix had stashed Irial. She was so intent on her search that she bowled into the red-haired little boy who had brought her the message at Eden’s birthday party.
“Niall!” she shouted as he picked himself up off the floor and prepared to take off.
“What?” he yelled, but then he recognized her and his face turned red. “Oh! I’m sorry. Your Majesty, I didn’t—” He cut off in midsentence and looked wildly around, as if searching for someone else.
“It’s okay, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “Is there a woman here? A human woman?”
“A human? No,” he said, his eyes round.
“Where is Irial?” she asked. “And what are you doing here?”
He glanced away. “I was helping my dad. He’s just, uh, taking a break, so he’s not here right now.” He led her through the maze of rooms and hallways until he pushed open the door to one of the rooms.
“Can you wait here, please? I won’t be long,” she said, leaving him in the hallway and closing the door behind her. Irial looked worse than ever, but he managed to open his eyes and fix them on Cedar.
“Did she come here?” she asked.
“Who?” he croaked.
“Jane. The human,” Cedar said. She cursed herself as her heart rate picked up at the sight of him.
“No,” he answered.
“We’re doing everything we can,” she assured him, wondering how long he’d been alone.
“Have you figured out what’s causing the illness?” he asked. Cedar glanced toward the door, then sat down gingerly on the edge of his bed.
“It’s a curse. It was placed on the Unseen a long time ago, when you were being hunted. So long as humans believed in the world of magic, you would be protected from your enemies. But if they stopped believing, you would die.”
Irial’s eyes were wide. “She was right, then.”
“Who was right?”
“Oh…uh, one of the old selkies told me a story like that, long ago. I didn’t really believe her at the time. Is there anything that can be done?”
Cedar looked down at her hands. “There were these jewels that were involved in the making of the spell. If we could destroy them, it would break the bond, and you would get better. That was our plan. But…they’re gone. We can’t find them. So…there’s no other choice. There’s only one way to make the humans believe.”
Irial was still staring at her as though he wasn’t quite following. “How?” he asked.
“I’m going to show them who I am. What I can do,” she said. “Once they see my abilities, they’ll have to believe. It’s the only way.”
Slowly, Irial drew out his arm from under the blankets. He reached out a thin, pale hand to Cedar, his palm open.
“It’s okay,” he said when she shrunk back. “I can’t hurt you.”
She placed her hand in his, and a thrill of warmth ran through her veins.
“You would do that…for us?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Then you are the greatest queen the Tuatha Dé Danann have ever known,” he whispered.
“Thank you, but I’m not so sure about that,” she said. She forced herself to stand up. She had already lost too much time. “My friend Jane is wandering around somewhere in Tír na nÓg. I have to find her before I go.”
Irial nodded. “Will she be okay?”
“She’s getting there. It’s not your fault. You can’t help how you were born.”
Irial didn’t say anything, but he was still staring at her as she left the room. Niall was waiting for her in the hallway, hopping from one foot to the other.
“I need to ask you a favor,” Cedar said. “Stay here until your father comes back. Don’t let anyone in except him. Especially not any humans. Okay?”
The boy looked slightly bewildered, but nodded sharply.
“Jane, Jane, Jane, what are you up to?” Cedar muttered as she wound her way to the entrance of Felix’s house and stepped out into the evening air. And then she saw her—a slight figure wearing an oversized hooded cloak, walking straight toward her. Throwing her hands into the air, Cedar raced to intercept her.
“What the hell, Jane? I told you to stay put! If anyone sees you…”
Jane shrugged. “I didn’t know when you’d come back to get me. I was just going for a walk.”
“I know exactly where you were going,” Cedar retorted angrily. “You were going to see Irial.”
Jane glared at her. “So what if I was?” she said. “It’s not what you think. I just wanted to see him again. Then I’d know for sure that I was over him.”
“You can’t see him,” Cedar said. “Ever. You don’t Facebook-stalk a succubus. Don’t you want to patch things up with Felix? He’s the one you have real feelings for. But if you don’t start making an effort, you’re going to lose him.”
Jane stared at the ground and pulled at the cloak, cinching the hood around her head. “I think…I think maybe it’s too late,” she said, her voice so low that Cedar had to lean in to hear her. “I don’t see how he could want me back after…after what I did.”
“Oh, Jane,” Cedar said, not sure whether to hug her or throttle her. “He does want you back. He knows it wasn’t your fault. He just wants to go back to normal—or whatever normal is for you guys. You have to trust him.”
Cedar pulled her inside Felix’s house, and through the still-open sidh that led back to her home.
“So what happened with the vampire-zombie-dwarf?” Jane asked once they were back in the willow-lined courtyard. “Did he lead you to the jewels?”
Cedar quickly brought her up to speed.
“I dunno,” Jane said when Cedar finished. “Are you sure? I have to agree with Finn and Felix. It sounds awfully risky.”
“It probably is,” Cedar admitted. “I’ll have to be really, really careful, and I’ll need to pretend there’s just one of me, like I’m the last of the fairies or something. But hopefully that will be enough. We’re running out of time, and I really think it will work. But I want to talk to Eden first. I don’t know how long it will take or how many humans I’ll have to convince before the Unseen start getting
better. Can I trust you to stay here for a few minutes? Don’t even think about going back to Felix’s house.”
Jane rolled her eyes, but nodded. Cedar went into Eden’s room and looked up. She could see Eden sitting on a branch, her nose stuck in a book. She climbed her way to the top and sat down beside her.
“Mum!” Eden leaned over and wrapped her arms around Cedar. “You’re back! How was Abhartach? Did you tell him I said hi? Is he sick too?”
Cedar drew back and looked at her. “What do you mean, too?”
Eden froze. “Oh, I just heard something about the Unseen being sick. Is he?”
Cedar frowned. Word about Irial must have gotten around. But she had intended on telling Eden what was going on, anyway. If Cedar was really going to go through with her plan, Eden deserved to know why.
“Well, yes. Abhartach and the rest of the Unseen are sick. It’s a long story, but it’s because humans have stopped believing in them.”
“Like Peter Pan,” Eden said, nodding wisely.
“Kind of, yes. So we have to help the humans believe in magic again. That’s what I came back to tell you. I’m going to show them what I can do, and hopefully that will convince them.”
“But you always told me that we should never show them what we can do,” Eden said.
“Normally, yes,” Cedar said. “But in this case it’s the only way to save our friends. Remember Brighid? She’s sick too.”
“But what if…what if they lock you up in a zoo? Or do experiments on you?” Eden asked.
“They won’t,” Cedar said. “I’ll be really careful. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“I’m coming with you,” Eden said. Her little face was intense. She looked far older than her seven years.
“Absolutely not.”
“You just said there was nothing to worry about!” Eden cried.
“There isn’t. It’s just that…you’ve been through so much lately. And we don’t know what will happen.”