by Manning
“Where are they?” she asked.
“I put them away. Ain't decent to be flashing ‘em around.”
She smiled. “Well, just as long as you can get to them easily next time I want to see them.”
He raised a dubious eyebrow. “So, you're only lustin’ after me wings, are you?”
Studying him, she replied, “You do have other features to commend you to my attention.”
“Indeed? Well, we'll just have to examine that further when we have time. But right now,” he leaned over and kissed her again, running the tip of one finger along the curve of her breast, “we need to get goin'. ‘Tis a good distance to the rath.”
“The what?”
“Finnvarra's fortress. A ring fort, like Tara, but somewhat smaller.”
“Oh.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “You go ahead to the bathroom first. I'm still waking up.” A yawn overcame her and she stretched deliciously.
His eyes devoured her, filling her with an unexpected, but well-recognized burst of feminine pride.
“Actually, my love, I have to beg a favor from you.”
“Anything,” she said.
“Could you sweep the salt away from the door?” He pointed to the white crystals lining the threshold. “I can't pass it.”
“Why not?” she asked, still somewhat groggy.
“How should I know? It's magic.”
“No attempt to explain with nuclear physics?”
“Nope.”
Was it progress for Gaelen to acknowledge there might be no explanation? She got up to sweep away the salt and opened the door for him. He gingerly approached, sliding one toe forward and out the door into the hallway.
“Thank you, love.” He kissed her lips, holding on and almost dragging her, buck naked, into the hall after him. “Hmmm. Keep my place for me.”
She laughed and pushed the door shut.
After they'd taken turns in Mrs. O'Hara's tiny bathroom, they came downstairs, Annabelle carrying the bag.
“And there they are, finally comin’ down the stairs.” Mrs. O'Hara grinned at them from her seat by the fire.
“Mrs. O'Hara, you're up early. I hope we didn't disturb you,” Gaelen said.
“Ach, no, sir. Auld ones as me need little sleep. Soon enough I'll have all the rest I can handle.” The old woman smiled. “I heard you stirrin’ and thought such an early start must mean some important business. No doubt you've business with the auld king? No, no,” she waved her hand. “No need to tell me anything about it. But you'll not be leavin’ my house wi’ no food in yer bellies.” She got up and tottered around, pulling three bowls and spoons from her cabinet, and went to the pot simmering over the fire. “'Tis naught but stew, warmed over it is, but good for not bein’ fresh cooked. Not what you Yanks are used to for breakfast, but it'll do you better than a gruel.”
“Well, thank you, Mrs. O'Hara, we'll be glad for a bit of stew.” Gaelen ushered an intensely grateful Annabelle, suddenly aware of a ravening hunger, to the table where Mrs. O'Hara set a steaming bowl of stew before her. The old lady put a plate of bread in the middle.
“There you are, my dears.” Mrs. O'Hara settled herself at the table and took up her spoon. As Annabelle ate, the old woman quizzed Gaelen. “You'll be goin’ up to the old rath today?”
Annabelle jerked a look at Gaelen who regarded Mrs. O'Hara calmly.
The old woman nodded, “Yes, sir, go ahead and plumb away. I know you're in there,” she tapped a knobby finger against her temple. She took a spoonful of stew. “Who has the auld king ta'en this time?”
“My sister-in-law,” Gaelen replied.
Mrs. O'Hara nodded. “And you know how to get her out, do you?”
Gaelen smiled. “I know a couple of ways.”
The woman cackled. “Yes, I suppose you do.” She sobered. “But beware, sir, you don't seem so auld as the king. He is wily from dealing wi’ mortal ones for many centuries.”
Annabelle lost her appetite.
“Don't you worry, lass,” Mrs. O'Hara said. “From what I see, you have a gallant champion to fight for your sister.”
“Are you done, darlin'?” Gaelen asked Annabelle.
She nodded. Where had the sudden burden of fear come from?
Gaelen rose and Annabelle followed.
“Mrs. O'Hara,” he said to the old woman, “I don't know how long it'll be before our return.” She nodded at his words. Annabelle felt they were sharing a secret she had no part in. “If you're not here when we get back, I want you to know how much we've appreciated your help.”
“It has been no trouble a'tall, sir,” she replied. “Good huntin'.”
Gaelen winked at her and smiled, and they left the old woman's house. They walked toward the car. Annabelle slowed.
“Gaelen, what did that mean? What you said to her before we left? If she's not there?”
“She's old, Annabelle. She may not be here.”
Annabelle couldn't believe her ears. How could he be so cruel? “That's a terrible thing to say.”
“She understood what I was saying.”
“Why not explain it to me?”
They'd reached the car. Gaelen popped the trunk and Annabelle dropped the bag inside. He slammed the lid and hit the electronic lock button on the key ring to unlock the doors. He didn't answer her question until they were on their way.
“Once we enter the rath, we're at Finnvarra's mercy. If he decides to, he can make a moment seem like a hundred years, or a hundred years like a moment. When we come out it could seem to those out here like we've been gone just a few minutes—or a few centuries.” He cut her a glance. “In fact, it's a risk, not to me, because I'm fairy, but to you. If Finnvarra decides to have time slow down in there, you won't know it, until you come out.”
He stared at the road ahead of them.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
He took a deep breath. “It means, if he wants to, he can make sure you don't tell anybody anything about us. If he makes time slow down enough in there, say a couple of centuries,” he glanced at her and she could see the pain in his eyes, “you'll step out of the rath, see the sun, and turn to dust.”
“Dust?”
He nodded. “There's a story, you see—”
“Is there a story for everything here?”
Gaelen considered her question. “Yes. Now, stop interrupting me. A fairy princess, Neve of the Golden Hair, took a liking to a comely lad by the name of Oisin, son of the great Irish warrior, Finn MacCool. She asked him to go with her to the land of her father, the king of the Land of Youth. He was so taken by love for her, he forgot every earthly thing and went with her. He was no more seen in Ireland for three hundred years, which passed for him but as a few weeks. Begging leave to visit his comrades, Oisin left the Land of Youth on a steed given him by his lover. Neve charged him not to leave the horse's back, or she would be forever cut off from him. With a kiss and a promise to return, Oisin set off.
“He arrived in western Ireland at the place where his father's fortress had been, but found only a grassy mound. He rode on from that place, terror building in his heart, intending to traverse Ireland from west to east, in the hope of finding a familiar face.
“He came upon a group of men attempting to move a boulder. Being a generous lad, he rode up to lend his hand to their work. But as he heaved at the stone, his saddle girth broke and he tumbled off his mount. As he hit the ground, the white steed vanished and Oisin, no longer a young man, but old and withered and dim-eyed, was left behind.”
Annabelle breathed to slow down her heart. He was telling her what could happen to her and for a moment all she could see was herself, old.
Withered.
Dim-eyed.
“And you?” she was finally able to ask.
“I'll be unaffected. I am what I am.” He drove in silence. “This is why we seem immortal, because our lives spent in Faerie take nothing from the time we spend here.”
“Okay, I get the picture.
”
“The choice is yours, Annabelle. I can't say if we go in together what will happen when we come out. I can't say if I go in alone whether I'll come back with Erin in your lifetime.”
“We go together,” she said, grasping at his hand.
He brought her hand to his lips.
He turned the Mercedes into a narrow path, two ruts leading to a rise. “Here we are. Knockma.”
There was no sign of a fortress, only a grassy mound. As Gaelen said, it was like Tara, but Annabelle could see from a distance it was nowhere near the size of Tara's outer ring.
Gaelen stopped and slammed the car into park. “Let's go,” he said, popping the trunk open as he got out.
Annabelle followed. He let her take the bag out of the trunk.
“Get the bottle of ointment out.”
She got it and handed it to him. He'd wrapped it in a linen cloth that he now took off it.
“Here's the plan,” he started.
“Well, finally.”
He spared her only a quick grimace. “I want you hidden from them as much as possible. So, take the ointment and put it on you.”
“There's enough?”
“Sure, but,” he hesitated. “Well, you'll have to take your clothes off.”
“What?” She stared at him. “You must be nuts. I'm not going to take my clothes off out here. What do you think I am?”
“Darlin’ girl, I'm not any crazier about this than you are, especially now.”
“Now? What about now?”
“I don't fancy having my woman struttin’ about stark naked.”
“My woman? Wait just a second, Dr. Riley—!”
“We really don't have time for a long discussion of male-female roles in modern society, Annabelle. We can figure out our relationship later, after all this is taken care of and we have a future to plan for.”
A future to plan for. Those words took all Annabelle's steam. Well, almost all of it.
“Well, whether I'm your woman,” her cheeks flushed pleasantly at the sound of those words, “or not, I'm not taking my clothes off out here in the great outdoors.”
“Then you'll have to wait while I go in alone.”
“No.”
“Then you'll have to do it my way.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so. And we don't have much time, so please make up your mind.”
“Okay, tell me again why I have to be naked.”
“Because we don't have enough ointment to conceal you clothed. You'll put it all over you, then the fairies won't be able to see you.”
“You either?”
“Me either. Of course, Erin will, and she might give you away, but that's a risk we'll have to take.”
Annabelle thought about it for a moment. “Okay, if you're sure nobody else will be able to see me. What else then?”
“I'll tell you as we get to it. Go ahead.”
“Turn around,” she ordered him.
“Annabelle, that's silly. I've seen you—”
“Turn around.”
He narrowed his eyes, but he turned his back to her. “Didn't think you'd get all fluttery on me.”
She ignored his jab and took the top off the bottle. It was about the size of a sample bottle of hand lotion, so she carefully measured out a dime-sized dollop and with a stingy fingertip, dotted it on her face, smoothing it over her skin.
Moving down an inch at a time, she modestly covered herself until she was fairly sure she was hidden from fairy sight.
This is really stupid, she said to herself. Fairies. If she hadn't seen Gaelen's wings with her own eyes, she might throw up her hands right now. If Erin hadn't been taken away....
Reminded of their purpose for being here, no matter the personal developments, Annabelle moved on, finally dabbing her toes with the ointment.
“Okay, I think I'm ready,” she said.
Gaelen turned around. And he started laughing.
“What?” she asked, twisting around.
“Nothing. It's just, well, you look like a disembodied wig floating around in space. Here,” he said, taking the bottle from her and pouring a few drops on his palm. “Turn around, love.” When she did, he snickered.
“Gaelen,” she warned.
“I'm sorry, love,” he leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck. How had he known where it was? “Just stand still for me.” He ran his fingers through her hair, massaging the ointment in. Removing his hands from her hair, she started to move and nearly jumped when she felt his hands stroking down her back, her backside, the backs of both legs.
“There. That's it. Can't see a thing.”
Annabelle held up her hand in front of her face. “Gaelen, I can still see me.”
“Yes.”
“Is there some way I couldn't?”
“Poor shy baby,” he cooed and removed the bottle from the pocket where he'd just slipped it. He put a single drop on his fingertip. “Look here and guide my hand to your eye.”
He applied the ointment to her eyes just as he had that night in the hospital when Erin disappeared and that thing—the changeling—took her place.
“Thank you,” she sighed in relief.
“You're welcome,” he replied, a smile in his voice.
“What now?”
“We wait.” Gaelen leaned up against the car, crossing his arms.
Annabelle joined him, jerking back from the feeling of cold metal against her—
“What are we waiting for?”
“The folk to gather.”
They sat there as the black of night melted into indigo, then blue, which gave way to pink and red as the sun began to rise. Gaelen made a motion with his head. Annabelle followed his sign. Coming out of the forest was a host of beings, nearly all with their wings out, reflecting the rising sun in a wild palette of color.
“Looks like he sent out invitations,” Gaelen growled. “Well, time to put my game face on.” He pushed himself away from the hood of the car and took off his jacket, tossing it through the open window of the car.
He wore a tunic of purest white, bordered with gold. Golden threads wove through, shimmering in the breaking day.
With a wink, he shook his shoulders and spread his wings. If it were possible, they were even more impressive here in the open field than they had been sprouting over her last night.
Annabelle pushed that memory out of her head for right now. They had a mission to accomplish before they could consider anything else.
Gaelen knelt down and shoved her clothes into the bag containing the knife and the salt. Cinching it up, he smiled at her.
“Let's go, champ.”
Gaelen led her to the end of the line of fairies entering the rath. He glanced around and stopped by the door.
He held the bag open. “Take the knife and stick it into the doorpost. Take a good stab, now, so it won't fall out.”
“What's this,” she stabbed at the doorpost “supposed to do?”
“Only a mortal can remove it. It's made of iron. Fairies can't touch it.”
“Wait a minute. You've been speeding around in a car that contains oodles of iron.”
“Steel, my sweet. Mixing the iron with carbon degrades its power. And to tell the truth, there's probably not a little bit of aluminum in that car.” He led her through the door. “Stay by me, even when you see Erin. Don't make a sound. And don't eat anything.”
They walked along a corridor. Annabelle, though she couldn't see herself, shivered at the feeling of the cool air rushing over her naked skin. But she bit her tongue. No complaining now. We're here to rescue Erin and Lucas. At last they were doing something.
She followed Gaelen into a huge hall, filled with light. She could see through Gaelen's wings the light was coming from stones embedded in the walls ringing the top of the hall. People sat at long tables, their clothing shining, wings reflecting the light of the stones.
She looked around the hall. There was only one person she needed to see. She caug
ht her breath as she spied Erin sitting beside a tall throne-like chair.
“Gaelen, there she is.”
“Shhh, I saw her. Where is Lucas?”
She scanned the room. “I don't see him.”
“Neither do I.” Gaelen frowned as his eyes ran over the room, seeking his brother's face. “Looks like the show is about to start.”
Annabelle followed his nod to a doorway hidden in the wall, open now, through which an older man passed, followed by twelve others all garbed in splendid purple and gold.
“Finnvarra and the Council of Elders,” Gaelen explained to her in a whisper behind his hand.
Annabelle's attention went back to her sister. Erin sat quietly, strangely not like Erin at all. She wore a gown of silver, and one of those pointy hats fairy princesses wore. She was so beautiful, and yet, somehow, she wasn't Erin.
The Council of Elders finished their entrance and took their seats at the high table on the dais where King Finnvarra sat on his throne, Erin at his side. He smiled down at her and stroked her hair, as one would a pet cat. Erin's smile in return was wan, not the thousand-kilowatt smile her sister usually wore.
“What's he done to her?”
“She's been enchanted. Probably to make her easier to handle,” Gaelen explained.
“How do we fix her?”
“I don't know, yet.” Gaelen glanced around. “When you get the chance, take the bag and try to get closer to her. I'll keep the crowd busy.”
“Okay.” She frowned. “Why can't I just walk over to her? They can't see me.”
“They can see the bag, sweets.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling extremely stupid. But heck, being invisible was a new experience.
“Not to mention we don't know if Erin can see you or not. I'd guess not as long as she's enchanted, but I can't be sure.”
Annabelle nodded invisibly.
“Bring in the defendant.”
Annabelle looked up at the voice. It was one of the Council. He sat nearest the king's throne. The door in the wall opened again.
Lucas was led out between two brawny fairies. His hands were bound behind him. He bore bruises on his face and one eye was swollen shut.
Gaelen swore softly. Annabelle dittoed the feeling.
“Have you an advocate, Lucas Riley?”
“No.”