"Why don't you take a quick shower and put on some clean clothes?" Neve suggested as we climbed the steps to the porch together. "Then you should try to eat something. I could send up a tray if you don't feel like coming back down."
"I'm not hungry."
When we entered the house, I stopped in the foyer and listened for the sound of voices to tell me which direction I wanted to go. I heard noise coming from the kitchen and headed that way.
"Tressa?" Neve called after me.
"I need to see Sophia. I need to make sure she's okay."
"Aye, but your dress is a mess. It will only upset her."
I didn't plan to let her see the bloodstained dress again; however I had an ache in my chest that insisted I check that she was unharmed. I peeked in from the hallway. A feast lay on platters covered in clear plastic wrap: steak, salmon and chicken breast with side dishes, appetizers and desserts: a sampling of everything Keelin had planned for our reception. Sophia sat at the island, already in her pajamas, with a large plate of food before her. Keelin sat next to her, stroking her hair.
"How are you doing, my sweet?" Keelin asked.
"I'm very sad."
"Aye, sweetheart, we'll all be sad for a while. But remember that we all love you and you can talk to any of us about Mr. Gobban whenever you like."
"Keelin has Sophia well in hand. Go take care of yourself now," Neve whispered. Content that Sophia was okay, I retreated down the hallway to do as she said.
I slipped into the shower, grateful to be in a place that isolated me from the rest of the household. I knew they would hover around me, trying to make things better, which was the last thing I wanted at that moment.
My weeping had stopped on the ride home, morphing into a quiet sadness that permeated my body and made my movements slow and lethargic. I leaned against the shower wall, closing my eyes and letting the water beat down on me, but I couldn't shake the image of Gobban's blood spreading over my wedding dress.
I grabbed a washcloth and began scrubbing, starting with my face. I lathered soap onto the cloth and rubbed off my makeup until my skin was raw. After holding my head under the water and letting the soap run down my body, I washed my neck and continued with the same pattern all the way down to my toes. My skin glowed red from the vigor with which I scrubbed it. Then I shampooed my hair and rinsed away the last remains of the day.
I slipped into a fresh t-shirt and, on impulse, pulled on a pair of Alexander's sweats. They were soft, roomy and warm. I wound my wet hair into a sloppy bun at the nape of my neck and wrapped an elastic around it to keep it out of my way. I lay on my bed and curled into a ball, simply breathing and staring at the door while I waited for my husband to come home.
The room was dark when he arrived. He flipped on the light switch and leaned against the doorframe. We gazed at each other for a minute. He had discarded his tuxedo jacket somewhere along the way. The top couple of buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone, and his bow tie hung loose around his neck. His eyes raked over me, as mine did him.
"You're a sight for sore eyes, Mrs. Mannus," he said. His rich, throaty voice washed over me like a balm soothing my agitated skin, and I managed a smile.
He kicked off his patent leather shoes, now scuffed and dirty, and crawled into the bed behind me. He curled his body to spoon mine and held me close against him. The warmth of our bodies next to each other thawed any lingering chill in my bones.
"Even now, we fit together like we were made for each other," he said.
I rolled around to face him. He slackened his grip just enough for me to move. His dark chocolate eyes gazed into mine with such love that it created a hitch in my breath.
"We were made for each other. Never forget it."
"Yes ma'am," he said with a grin as he brushed a few stray strands of hair off my face. Then his smile faded away. "We lost the guy. Never had him, really."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
"My only consolation is that I'm sure now that he isn't after you."
"Small comfort for the Leprechauns."
"I don't mean to sound callous, but you're my main concern. Always." He kissed my forehead. "I'm sorry this day didn't turn out as planned, and I'm sorry about Gobban. I promise to find out who did this."
The whisper of muffled voices woke me from a light slumber. Shamus and Alexander were by the sitting area, speaking in hushed tones. The first thought that came to my frazzled brain was that something new had happened. Why they were keeping it from me?
"What's wrong?" I asked, tension sharpening my words.
"Everything's okay, sweetheart." Alexander wrinkled his brow, alarmed by my reaction. "We were trying not to wake you."
"I brought you some food, My Lady," Shamus said, gesturing to a tray on the table in front of them. "And I wanted to congratulate you on your marriage. I'm sorry I couldn't be there, but someone had to stay behind to mind the camp."
"Oh my god! The camp!" I jumped up and rummaged through a dresser drawer for a warm pair of socks. "I have to get over there."
"No, you don't," Shamus said. I ignored him and picked out a thick pair of thermal socks. I sat on the edge of the bed to put them on, but Alexander sat down next to me and grabbed my hands.
"Tressa, slow down. Hear what Shamus has to tell us." My heart raced, and I took a deep breath to calm it down.
"Aye, of course. I'm sorry, Shamus."
"The morning is soon enough for you to check on them. The cold medicine you gave them is helping; I've already sent a few back to Faery who had improved enough to travel. A few of them didn't react as well to the medicine, but there's nothing else you can do for them right now. Sharing your essence isn't helping them, it's only hurting you. Without the pozen seeds, we must wait until the humidity goes back to a normal level."
"It wouldn't hurt to go look," I said. Shamus pressed his lips together and shook his head.
"We built a few campfires around the outside of the tent." I recoiled, moving further back on the bed. "It was the best way to dry out their clothes and the furniture, and it made brewing tea easier," he said by way of explanation. The caretakers have strict instructions to let them burn through the night, to keep everyone warm, and to douse them in the morning."
The tray of food Shamus brought us went uneaten. In the early morning hours, when Alexander and I found our appetite, the food looked stale and unappealing. We padded downstairs instead to find something to hold us over until breakfast. The quietness of the house led us to assume everyone else was still asleep. However, at the bottom of the stairway Alexander pointed to a glow coming from under the study door. Curious, we changed direction to see who else was awake at that hour.
Neve sat at the big wooden desk, wearing her bedclothes and scribbling on some paper. She looked up when we entered the room.
"I hope I didn't wake you. I came here looking for paper and a pencil."
"No, our grumbling stomachs woke us. What did you need pen and paper for at this time of night?" Alexander asked, stifling a yawn.
"I left my sketchpad at home."
We stood over her shoulder and studied the drawing she was working on. A cloud of smoke billowed from a campfire and spun in a tornado-shaped funnel. Various items swirled in the funnel: a Leprechaun looking terrified as he twisted out of control and a cauldron, beautifully ornamented with gold leaf but cracked and chipped. It flew upside-down, a few coins trickling out of its mouth. Deaglan Mór's face was there as well, contorted with hate and anger. The overall effect was shadowy and sinister.
"You've had a dream," I said, remembering that she drew pictures of her dark premonitions to help get the horror of them out of her head. "What does it mean?"
She let out a huff of air and closed her eyes, as if bracing herself to retell what she knew. Alexander took her hand and led her to sit more comfortably on the sofa, skirting around the remnants of Rosheen's sewing frenzy. Neve's gaze swept from Alexander to me as she shook her head sadly.
&nbs
p; "Deaglan continues to wreak havoc in the Otherworld, forcing conversions and burning villages." I shuddered, imagining homes, shops and entire towns engulfed in flames. I grabbed Alexander's hand, knowing his touch would calm me as she continued.
"The rage in him is explosive. It was he who ordered the attacks on the Leprechauns. He hired someone to go into the human world after them. He will soon get the news that Gobban is dead. His anger with the Leprechauns has something to do with the Dagda's Cauldron… I think Gobban gave it to him, but it's not working the way it should. He knows time is running out, and he's planning to do something desperate to get what he wants. I didn't see what the plan entailed or what he's trying to get, unfortunately. That's all I know, and all in all it doesn't tell us much."
"It tells us who was behind Gobban's murder, not that it's a surprise," said Alexander. "But we still need to find the assassin before he kills anyone else." I stared at the drawing of the cauldron, remembering Gobban's cryptic answer when I had questioned him about it.
"It's all a big deception," I said, working out my thoughts as I spoke.
"What is?" They looked at me, confused.
"Deaglan never had the Dagda's Cauldron. He thought he did at first, but he actually has Gobban's cauldron. It looks like the real one, but it's an illusion. It serves his purpose to let everyone think he found the third Sidhe Treasure. The Dagda's Cauldron is still out there somewhere."
They both stared at me as my words registered. Gobban had been the wealthiest Leprechaun in Faery; what with all that wealth stored in his cauldron—his metaphoric pot of gold—it would be easy for Deaglan Mór to convince everyone he had the Undry. However, his fortune wasn't infinite. Eventually it would run out, unmasking the truth.
"Do you have any sense at all about his plan? Is it to do with the cauldron? Could it have something to do with the recruits he's been gathering?"
Neve looked out into space, replaying the dream once again. She shook her head.
"Nothing. The whole thing was a swirling of dark, smoldering emotion."
"Okay. We said we would return to the Otherworld after the wedding. It might as well be now," Alexander said.
"I can't abandon the sick at the camp. Too many things could go wrong; in the worst case, they could die. Now that the rain has stopped, we should be able to get them healthy enough to travel." Alexander nodded, though it was clear that his thoughts were somewhere else.
"I'll use the time to track down this assassin. Next time Mór might send him after you."
"We should send a message to your uncle and let him know about the fake cauldron. He needs to know that Deaglan is up to something big," Neve said. My mind went to the Pixies, who often carried messages for us.
"I'll send Brenna and Kerry. They can explain our delay and pass on the information in your premonition."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The sun shone bright in a cloudless blue sky that morning, but the air smelled dank and rotten, spoiling the effect of the pleasant weather. The lake had receded a few yards, leaving the guesthouse surrounded by mud. The water that surrounded my farmhouse had receded about a foot.
I would have preferred to walk to the other side of the lake to stretch my legs and think, but flood waters continued to block the way. Driving to the camp wouldn't offer the same therapeutic effects as being in the open air, so I flitted to the same spot I had landed at the previous day. This time, knowing my destination, the landing was soft and controlled.
The smell of burnt wood hit me and I froze, having forgotten until that moment what Shamus had warned me about the campfires. I gathered my strength, building it up around his promise that they would be doused by morning, and put one foot in front of the other to make my way down the hill.
I approached the camp cautiously, my confidence growing as I passed a dormant fire pit. The noise from the encampment sounded encouraging. Today, the sounds of people talking and dishes clanking mixed in with the coughs and wheezing noises. The aroma of warm food and coffee softened the odor of the stale flood waters and burnt wood. All these positive signs made me optimistic.
My optimism was shattered as soon as I got a look at the actual state of things.
Shamus had set up breakfast on the opposite side from me. The healthy Sidhe, scattered throughout the dozens of sick, tried to coax their friends and family members into eating something. Many of them chatted cheerfully with their patients, even while fear simmered in their eyes.
My heart sank. The end of the rain hadn't helped them as much as I had hoped. Their numbers had shrunk by ten or so; however I couldn't know without asking how may had flitted away and how many had died.
I walked up and down, checking on everyone and laying a healing hand where needed. No one appeared to be on death's door, yet many still struggled to breathe. The sick were still in no condition to move.
"Mistress, how are you this morning?" My rounds had taken me to the old grandmother. She smiled and reached out. I took her hand and gave it a light squeeze.
"Congratulations on your marriage. I'm sorry I wasn't there, but I'm so happy for you, my girl."
"Thank you. I'm quite happy about it myself," I said, delighted that she had addressed me with such familiarity. It signaled that we were now friends. "I don't see Kyla and her sisters. Did they go home?"
"Aye, they did well with the little tubes you gave them and she hurried them away. Several others did the same."
"Why didn't you leave with them?"
"Sure and I'm too old to be in a hurry. I wanted to see you properly married before I go." The sentiment was sweet; however she was too elderly and frail to be so far from Faery on her own. I wished she had returned with them.
"Did everyone who left flit to a threshold?"
"Not everyone. Two or three took the low road home," she said, patting my hand to soften the effect of her words.
It was improbable that we should save them all, but I still felt a stab of pain at the news. I settled onto a large rock close to her chair, running my mind through all the people who had died over the past week. The Leprechauns, but also her granddaughter, along with who knew how many others the night of the flood. It was hard to know how many more we had lost in the aftermath.
"Mistress, isn't it odd that no Banshees have arrived to help us mourn our dead? You lost your Fiona, yet your family's Banshee didn't come."
"Aye, I have wondered the same. Perhaps she isn't able to cross the threshold."
She seemed to take comfort in that thought, and it was certainly better than thinking her Banshee had abandoned her in her time of need. I chose not to disillusion her by telling her that Banshees can travel into the Human World.
I said my goodbyes and mulled over our conversation as I checked in with the rest of the sick and handed out another dose of cold medicine. I felt eyes on me as I finished with the last row. Ronan sat outside the canopied area, watching me. I approached him with some annoyance.
"Did you need something?" I asked.
"I don't know what you mean. I'm just sitting here relaxing for a minute."
His demeanor remained calm, which made me angrier. I looked around for something else to aim my ire at and found Gobban's shillelagh lying on the ground next to him.
"I'll take that," I said, grabbing it and holding it tight against my body as if he would try to grab it away from me.
"If you had given me the chance, I would have given it to you. I have his pipe, too." He pulled the old thing out of his chest pocket and handed it to me. I couldn't bring myself to thank him; I felt somehow sure that he was lying.
"Where is Gobban? What did you do with his body?"
"He's with the other Leprechauns." I glared at him, letting him know his non-answer wasn't good enough.
"I buried them in the woods."
"You buried them?" I screeched.
"Why don't you say it a little louder, so everyone can hear you?" he said. "What did you expect me to do with them?"
"Show me. Right
now."
He scowled, grabbed my arm and flitted without warning, dragging me along with him. The aimless, disembodied sensation of riding the air without knowing the destination had me whispering a prayer.
We landed in a meadow high on the mountain peak behind the estate. Tall, straight evergreens surrounded the clearing. Off to one side was an area of freshly turned ground where I knew my friend must have been buried.
I shook my head in disbelief. Everything about this, about all the deaths, was wrong. No Banshee cries to commiserate with our sorrow, no white procession, and for these three, no open-air sendoff to allow their spirit to roam free.
In that moment, I understood how important those rituals were to the living, to help them through the mourning process. I blinked to hold back the tears threatening to fall. Ronan didn't need to see my pain.
"Why here?"
"If someone found the bodies, which I doubt would ever happen, I wanted none of our people to come under suspicion."
I nodded. His protective instinct over the Sidhe always surprised me.
Ronan left, giving me time to myself. One side of the clearing gave an aerial view over the estate. The Manor House was directly below me, followed by the guesthouse and lastly the farmhouse.
The lake was triple its normal size, with the Pixies' maple tree seeming to sprout from within it, as did the trees on the far side. A gap hadn't yet reemerged between the lake and the stream. In the far distance I could see a spattering of small lakes that dotted the region; most of them had overflowed their banks. From this height, everything appeared calm and peaceful below.
I sang a traditional Sidhe funeral lament for Gobban and his friends. It would have to do; I knew no Leprechaun traditions surrounding death. As I finished, a doe came out of the forest, followed by two spotted fawns who chased each other around the meadow, jumping and kicking up their hind legs. The mother froze and stared at me as she decided if I was a threat. My cue to leave, I thought.
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