Just Believe

by Manning

  As Gaelen pulled the cash from his wallet to pay, Annabelle took the items.

  “You don't have a shopping bag, Miss?” the shopkeeper asked.

  Annabelle shrugged. “No.”

  “Here,” he said, pulling a sack from behind the counter. “You Yanks never have a shopping bag.” He packed their purchases in the bag and handed it to Annabelle. “Good luck, sir. It's been a long time since we've had such goings-on. ‘Twill be good for the tourists.”

  Gaelen grimaced and turned without another word. Annabelle took her cue from him, but did give the helpful shopkeeper a small smile.

  Once on the street, Gaelen sighed.

  “Will you talk to me?” Annabelle said.

  “Didn't you hear him? He's hoping for a tourist attraction. Damn. Just what we don't need.” He strode on, muttering under his breath. “I'll kill my little brother for bringin’ this on us.”

  “Why?”

  “I already explained this to you. Disbelief is deadly to us.” Gaelen glanced around, lowering his voice as they were approached by other shoppers this bright Irish morning. “Imagine how much damage could be done.”

  “I still don't get this, Gaelen,” Annabelle puffed, trying to keep up with him and talk at the same time. “How can you be disbelieved into nonexistence? You're real.”

  He stopped, and Annabelle was several steps ahead of him before she stopped.

  “What is it now?” She was getting just a little bit irritated by his mood.

  “What did you say?”

  “I asked you—”

  “Not that, before.”

  She had to think. “Oh, you mean about you're being real?”

  “Yes.” He looked away, his eyes on some spot way beyond the scene before them. “I'm real,” he said, as though trying to convince himself.

  “That's right,” Annabelle whispered. “How can what anyone else thinks make you less than what you are? It just doesn't make any sense.”

  Gaelen chuckled, but it wasn't a happy sound. “I told you what I am, and you're looking for sense?”

  “You're the one who's been trying to explain things scientifically, remember? Squooshing atoms and bending light around the molecules of that ointment to make things invisible? So how is this any different? Tell me, have you ever seen anyone disbelieved out of existence?”

  Gaelen frowned. “No.”

  “Well, there you go.”

  “That doesn't mean anything. We've been careful.” He started walking again toward the rented Mercedes. “Besides, I don't want to test it.”

  Annabelle thought that was exactly what was needed here. But she couldn't honestly say she didn't believe just so she could test Gaelen's theory.

  So she followed him, deciding to let him have his way, for now.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Gaelen slammed the trunk lid down. Their purchases would be much safer here than in Mrs. O'Hara's house, even if she weren't Linette. Of course, he'd lied to Annabelle about seeing the spiteful pixie in her old lady get-up, and he was more upset than he cared to admit that he hadn't seen through it. If he hadn't let himself get spooked last night, he wouldn't have shielded himself from her, and her from him. He'd played right into Linette's hands. She knew his sense of self-preservation. She'd known he'd shield himself and leave her deception undetected.

  He'd been taken in, and he'd put Annabelle in danger.

  “So, what do we do?” Annabelle stood by his side. He was grateful she hadn't pressed him for any more explanations.

  “We wait for dawn.”

  “Why? Gaelen,” she grabbed his sleeve, her eyes frantic, “Erin's been in there for two days already. We can't waste any more time. We've got to get her out.”

  Gaelen leaned against the car. “Annabelle, dearest, I understand your fear. But there isn't anything we can do until dawn.” He needed to get her mind off their troubles. “Have you ever been to Ireland?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, then,” he said as he opened the door for her, “let's go for a ride.”

  She didn't look ready to go on a joyride with the situation still unresolved, but finally settled on a huff to show her displeasure with the delay and got in. Gaelen walked around and opened the door, casting a quick glance toward the house where Linette hid. She was probably digging through their bags right now, looking for some idea of what he intended to do.

  She'd never find a clue, he thought with a pang. You couldn't leave clues to a plan that didn't exist.

  ~*~

  Even though she felt like a traitor, Annabelle had to admit she was glad Gaelen decided they needed to get away. Once she was actually in the car, at least.

  “So, where are we going?”

  “I want to show you some of Ireland.” He glanced behind them, as Killis grew smaller in the rearview mirror. “And we'll have some time to talk.”

  “You mean you're finally going to tell me how we're going to get Erin and Lucas out of that place?”

  “Soon.” He didn't look at her. “First, we ride and see the some of the most beautiful land God created.”

  They drove for almost an hour, either in silence or with a few words as Gaelen pointed out some sight along the road. Annabelle noticed the mileage signs showed Dublin growing closer.

  She hadn't realized Ireland was so, well, compact.

  “Are we going to Dublin?”

  “No. Somewhere more important.”

  His reply surprised her. “Dublin's the capitol, isn't it?”

  “It is now, but not always.”

  She half-turned in her seat. “I though the Irish loved to talk. How come I have to pull words out of you?”

  Gaelen laughed. “Indeed the Irish love to talk. I'm a fairy, though.”

  “Aren't you Irish?”

  He thought about that. “I suppose in a way. Maybe in the same way I'm an American. By naturalization.”

  “A naturalized Irishman. What were you before?”

  “I'm a fairy.”

  “So what's that got to do with you not being Irish and a talker?”

  “Oh, we talk, only the Irish have always been better talkers.” He glanced at her, a smile in his eyes. “That's why we live underground now.”

  “Oh,” she said, remembering what Gaelen had told her about the bad land deal.

  “There,” he said, pointing ahead of them. He slowed the car and turned into a gravel lot. He parked and turned off the car. “We'll have to walk. You have comfortable shoes?”

  “Sure.” Annabelle got out and followed him. There wasn't much to see, and she wondered why they'd stopped. She almost asked when she glanced at Gaelen and her words stopped on the tip of her tongue.

  He stood in front of the car, just looking, the expression on his face one of longing.

  “Gaelen,” she whispered, afraid of breaking this spell. “Where are we?”

  “Tara,” he replied, his answer as low as her question.

  He started walking quickly toward the low hill covered with green. Annabelle dashed after him, her eyes on him.

  “Gaelen, what is Tara? I mean besides Scarlett O'Hara's plantation?”

  That did stop him.

  “What? What is Tara?” he asked, his voice heavy with disbelief. Then he circled her as though she were a strange new form of life brought back from Mars. Annabelle shrank away from the examination.

  “I'm sorry I don't know, Gaelen. Pretend I'm a product of the American public school system and tell me.”

  He sighed. “Tara is the hall of the kings. It's where my people ruled the land.”

  “Before the Irish.”

  “Yes. And when we went underground—”

  Annabelle wondered at that phrase. He never said, “When they beat us....”

  “—they took it over and used it until Patrick converted them.”

  “Then what happened to it?”

  “They forgot about it. Just like they forgot about us.”

  Sadness colored his voice, shadowed his
face. Annabelle's heart became heavy in sympathy.

  He started walking again, his long stride taking him closer to the grassy mound, all that was left of Tara.

  Annabelle quickened her pace to keep up with him. “Gaelen, this looks like a national monument or something. Won't we get in trouble being up here?”

  He didn't answer. She followed him.

  They scrambled up the hillside. Once there, Annabelle could see they were on top of an outer ring. Inside was a second ring surrounding a field. Further over were another two rings, these larger than those on which she was standing. The inside ring enclosed yet another mound.

  “Look out that way,” Gaelen said, pointing.

  She raised her eyes and gazed out. And was struck speechless.

  “A fine, fair sight, is it not?”

  “It's beautiful.” Even as she spoke the words, Annabelle was struck with their inadequacy.

  Near noon, the sun hung high, giving a golden glow to the verdant land. Far off she could see the shadowy outlines of low mountains.

  “Those mountains, there,” Gaelen pointed, standing by her shoulder. “They're in Galway and Clare. All the way on the other side of Ireland.”

  “We can see that far?” She threw him a glare. “You're not doing anything are you? To fool me?”

  He laughed. “Aren't you the suspicious one? No, dearling, I'm not doing anything. It's only about a hundred miles after all, with not much betwixt us.”

  Turning, he walked away along the top of the ring. Again she followed.

  “Gaelen, why are we here?” She caught up and took hold of his sleeve, stopping him. “Are we just killing time?”

  “No. I needed to come here.”

  He took her hand and they walked along the top of the ancient ring. Their silence was taken up by nature. No birds sang. No breeze ruffled the grass. There was no sign of any life but theirs, as far as Annabelle could see. It was as though they were alone in all of Ireland.

  Gaelen appeared to be staring off toward the middle of the rings, even as they circled them.

  What was he looking for?

  But she didn't ask, afraid of shattering the crystalline silence they shared.

  Finally, after they had walked the circumference of the rings three times, Gaelen stopped, his eyes still fixed on the center of the rings.

  He nodded as though agreeing with words Annabelle couldn't hear.

  “It's time to be getting back.” His words caught her by surprise, and she found herself standing on top of the rise while Gaelen was halfway to the car.

  “Well,” he called back to her, “let's go. It'll be gettin’ dark soon.”

  Annabelle dashed after him, growing more confused by the second.

  Gaelen practically shoved her in the car and slammed the door after her, then he ran around the red Mercedes and jumped into the driver's seat. The engine purred and seconds later they were on the main highway back to Killis.

  “Are you going to explain?” she finally asked. “What was all that about? Were you communing with the spirits?”

  He grinned. “Sort of.”

  “Did they tell you what to do?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well?” Annabelle was starting to get really irritated.

  “If I tell you, you'll just write it up for your paper.”

  Annabelle felt her brow furrow. “Why would you think that?”

  “You're a journalist. What you're going to be seeing is, well, news.”

  “What am I going to see?” She half-turned in the seat so she could really look at him. “I promise, I won't write about this.” She made the motion over her chest. “Cross my heart.”

  “Okay. We're going to make a frontal assault on Finnvarra's hall.”

  That sounded dangerous.

  “There's no other way?”

  “Not that I've thought of. Maybe you've a better idea?” he cut her a glance, humor in his eyes.

  “How can you think this is funny? My sister is being held prisoner by those people.”

  “I'm sorry. You're right, of course.” He sobered immediately. “I'm going to need your help. But I'm afraid you're not going to like the requirements.”

  “Requirements?”

  “Well, the best I've come up with is this. You and I go into Finnvarra's hall, me as Lucas's advocate, you in disguise.” He glanced at her. Annabelle imagined she saw embarrassment in his eyes. “Once inside, I'll distract the assembly, while you get Erin out.”

  “That sounds okay to me. They wouldn't hurt us or anything, would they?”

  “Ach, no.” His quick reassuring smile faded and his brow furrowed. “Well, maybe not. Probably not.”

  “Gaelen.”

  “The most they'd do is strike you blind.”

  “What?”

  “Or they could turn you into something, a swan. A fish maybe?”

  “You're kidding.”

  “Wish I were.”

  “Well, as long as I don't end up as a frog.”

  “Please, Annabelle, at least give us credit for having some style.” He was grinning again and Annabelle had no alternative but to join him. “That's better. Everything goes better with a little humor.”

  “So, how will I be disguised?” she asked, certain he had something perfectly humorous planned.

  Gaelen averted his eyes, staring straight up the highway. “Maybe we'd better leave an explanation of that until we get back to Killis.”

  Annabelle waited a moment, sure he'd have more to add, but when he didn't, she asked, “Why wait, Gaelen? How horrible can it be?”

  She saw his eyes cut to her, then back to the road, though his head didn't even twitch.

  “Just wait,” he said, patting her hand. “It's bad luck to talk about a plan before it's time to spring it.”

  “I never heard of that superstition.”

  “I just made it up,” he admitted.

  Immediately her defenses sprung up. What could be so bad that he couldn't even tell her? What was the worst it could be? Maybe he'd want her to walk in naked or something?

  The thought made her laugh softly.

  The really nice thing about Ireland is everything is close, Annabelle thought as Gaelen brought the Mercedes to a stop shortly thereafter in front of Mrs. O'Hara's Bed and Breakfast.

  “We're going back in here?” she asked, the hairs on the back of her neck stirring.

  “Sure. Why not?” Gaelen came around and opened her door, offering his hand in a study of chivalry. “If you're worried about Linette, don't. She'll be long gone from here. I'll wager Mrs. O'Hara won't even know us.”

  “There's a real Mrs. O'Hara?”

  “Oh, sure ‘n there is. Linette just put her in a closet or something and took over her form for a bit.” He linked her arm with his and strolled up the steps to the dark door. When he knocked, an old woman peered out the window through pure white lace curtains.

  The woman opened the door and smiled. “I'm sorry, folk, but I'm full up tonight.”

  Gaelen leaned forward and whispered, “Yes, Mrs. O'Hara, we're the folk in the front bedroom.”

  The woman studied them for a second before she slapped her palm to her comfortable bosom. “Lands, sir, and wouldn't I be knowing you. Please,” she said, stepping aside, “come in, come in.”

  Annabelle studied the new Mrs. O'Hara closely. Mrs. O'Hara didn't stare back, but did cut a glance or two to Annabelle.

  “Is everything all right, Missus?” Mrs. O'Hara asked.

  “Oh,” Annabelle stammered, embarrassed to be caught staring. “Yes, I'm sorry, Mrs. O'Hara. You remind me of someone I knew, that's all.”

  “Well, I hope the reminder is a good one. Now, will you both be takin’ supper with me?”

  “No, I'm sorry, Mrs. O'Hara, we'd been thinking of going out for a pint and some music and dancin'. Would you like to accompany us?” Gaelen asked with a smile no woman could refuse.

  Mrs. O'Hara again patted her bosom. “Ach, and get on wi’ ya. Such
a one you have here, my dear,” she said to Annabelle. “No, you young folk go and have a grand time. The closest public house is O'Looney's, no more than a small walk from here.”

  Thanking their hostess for the recommendation, Gaelen and Annabelle went up to their room and freshened up, one at a time in the small, shared bathroom across the hall. Then they walked hand-in-hand down the narrow cobbled street to the corner where O'Looney's was lit up and spilling the sound of song and dance out the door and windows. The pub was packed, but almost magically a small table for two appeared near the window.

  “Did you do that?” she whispered as they made their way to it.

  “Do what?” he asked as he held out a chair for her. “Oh, this? Sure, we'd never have gotten a table before ten, and we have to be up early tomorrow mornin'.” He pushed in the chair for her and leaned over, kissing her on the temple. “Got to play the lovin’ newlyweds, no? What will you have, love?”

  Love sounded good.

  Annabelle shook the sudden erotic vision back into the mists of her demented mind.

  “I don't know. A beer, I guess.”

  “Beer! Gads, no. A pint of good Irish ale for you, my girl.”

  “I don't have to drink it warm, do I?”

  “For certain you do. ‘Tis the only decent way to drink ale.”

  He left her to go to the bar to order their drinks. She watched him mingle with the men at the bar, welcomed as though he'd lived among them his whole life.

  It only hit her then that she knew very little of his life before she met him. Suddenly she wanted to know everything about him. Not only what had happened, but what he dreamed of.

  “Omigosh,” she yanked her head around, away from the sight of him by the bar. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.

  She was in love with Gaelen Riley. She was in love with a fairy.

  It would be funny if there weren't such terrible consequences. Like not being able to be together.

  Not that he'd shown any sign of succumbing to her feminine charms. Far from it, he'd been able to control himself well.

  Annabelle caught her reflection in the window. Objectively now, she told herself. Really look. And for the first time in a long time—probably ever—she really studied herself.