Through the Door

by Jodi McIsaac

  Nuala was unsure of the proper protocol, so she simply asked, “Deardra, Queen of the Merrow?”

  The woman looked at them both. Then she spoke in a rasping voice that grated against Nuala’s nerves like a steel block being dragged across a cement floor. “It has been many years since the Tuatha Dé Danann have deigned to visit these shores.”

  “Yes, it has been,” Nuala said uncertainly. “I bring greetings from my people. I am Fionnghuala. This child is Eden. As you know, many of our people have been exiled from our home, and we seek a way to return. This child has the ability to take us there, but first she must see where we are going. Therefore, I have come to you on behalf of my people to request that you show this child the painting of Tír na nÓg that was given to you by our Elder, Brighid. We do not wish to take it, only to look at it. You will have our gratitude.”

  “The gratitude of the Tuatha Dé Danann is worth as much to me as their excrement,” rasped the woman. Nuala struggled to keep her expression passive, while inside she seethed at the insult.

  “There is, however, something I desire that has much more value to me than your gratitude,” Deardra continued.

  “And what is that?”

  “The closed-mindedness of your race has probably not prevented you from noticing that I stand here on this shore instead of in my rightful place in the waters.”

  Nuala pursed her lips together, and Deardra continued. “I am not too proud to admit that I was a fool,” she said. “You are no doubt aware that I once took a human as my lover, and have paid dearly for it.” The look on Deardra’s face was murderous. “This man stole from me the cohuleen druith, and without it I cannot enter the water. Return it to me, and I will do as you ask.”

  “I share your distaste for humans,” Nuala said. “I am sorry that you were so betrayed, but not surprised. Tell me where I can find this man, and I will see to it that he pays for his betrayal.”

  “There is a village two leagues to the northeast, called Doonacuirp. He’ll be an old man by now, and I would slit his throat myself if I could leave this cursed shore.”

  “Why can’t you leave?” It was Eden who spoke, and Nuala hissed at her to be silent. Deardra squatted to face the girl, who stepped closer to Nuala.

  Deardra reached out a long green nail and lifted a lock of Eden’s brown hair, then let it fall. “Because, little one, if I leave these shores for any reason the Merrow will choose a new queen, and then I will be at her mercy. And Deardra is at no one’s mercy.”

  She stood up and came so close that Nuala could see the hundreds of red veins crisscrossing the queen’s eyes. “So it seems we can make some use of each other. His name is Seamus Kilpatrick. Bring me back the cohuleen druith stained with his blood, and I will show you your homeland.” Then she turned and, wringing her hands and moaning, walked away toward the other end of the rocky shore.

  Nuala was strong, stronger than any human, but even she was growing weary of carrying a fifty-pound child as she trudged for miles through the Irish countryside. Perhaps it was the incessant whining that was taxing her strength, not the weight.

  “Are we there yet?” Eden grumbled for the umpteenth time.

  “I thought I told you to shut up,” Nuala said. The cheerful, pacifying facade she had tried to maintain over the past couple of days had completely unraveled. “Do you want me to make you walk?”

  “No,” Eden muttered against her back. Nuala wished she could just dump the child somewhere while she dealt with Deardra’s ex-lover, but Eden had started complaining about how long this was taking, and asking about her father, and crying for her mother. Nuala didn’t want to let her out of her sight in case she found a door somewhere and decided it was time to go home.

  At last, they arrived at Doonacuirp. Eden slid down off Nuala’s back. “I’m hungry,” she whined.

  “We’ll get food later,” Nuala said. “First we have to find this cohuleen druith.”

  “What is it?” Eden asked.

  “Didn’t your useless mother teach you anything?” Nuala said. When Eden’s bottom lip started to poke out, she quickly added, “If I tell you, will you stop whining?”

  Eden nodded, and Nuala rolled her eyes and said, “Yeah, right. I suppose you would call it a hat of sorts.”

  “Is that why her hair is so messy? Because she lost her hat?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Nuala replied tersely. “It’s important to them. It’s a part of their bodies, like wings are for birds. Taking away a Merrow’s cohuleen druith removes her tail and leaves her stranded on dry ground. I can’t believe Deardra was stupid enough to get so close to a human that he could take it from her.”

  “Why’d he take it?” Eden asked.

  “I don’t know and I don’t care,” Nuala said. “Stop asking questions.”

  She picked up the pace, dragging Eden behind her. She was confident the task wouldn’t take long. There was nothing stopping her from bewitching the whole village if she had to. They walked along the main road until they came to a small general store. Nuala pushed the door open, and the young man at the counter looked up. His jaw was slack as he stared openly at her. Pathetic, she thought.

  “Tell me where I can find Seamus Kilpatrick,” she said, not wasting time on pleasantries.

  The young man’s eyes glazed over and he said, “Old Stumpy? You’ll be finding him down at the pub, I reckon, havin’ his lunch. Eats there every day, so he does.”

  “Where’s the pub?” Nuala asked.

  “Just down the road,” the man said, pointing.

  She spun on her heel and left the store, dragging Eden by the hand. “Can we get some lunch too?” Eden asked. “I’m starving!”

  “I said, later!” Nuala hissed. She saw the sign for the Slug and Lettuce up ahead. She could hear Eden sniffling as she trailed along behind her, but ignored it.

  They stepped through the door and into a crowded room. More than one set of eyes lingered on them as Nuala led Eden toward the bar through a maze of tables and stools. Great barrels of ale and other brews sat behind the bar, and a large orange cat rubbed itself against Eden’s legs. Eden bent to pet it while Nuala ordered the barman to point out “Old Stumpy.”

  “Aye, he’s just in the corner there, the gent with the hat and cane,” the barman said, his head tilting in the general direction but his eyes not leaving Nuala. “What’s a young filly like you doin’ looking for a weathered ol’ chap like him, eh? Come pull up a stool and I’ll pour you a drink on the house.”

  Nuala ignored him and headed in the direction he had indicated. Eden, looking mournfully back at the cat, trailed in her wake. They stopped at a table in the corner, where two old men sat together over bacon sandwiches and pints of beer. A cane leaned against one of the wooden chairs. Nuala looked at the man in the chair.

  “Seamus Kilpatrick?” she asked. The man looked up at her and started, then recovered himself sufficiently to tip his hat to her.

  “The very same,” he said in a soft, kind voice. Nuala leaned down and put her lips next to his ear as his companion gaped openly at both of them.

  “If you want to live, you will take me to the cohuleen druith that once adorned the head of the Queen of the Merrow,” she whispered. It was an unsophisticated threat, she knew, but she didn’t have time to search his heart for his deepest, most hidden desires. Everyone wanted to live.

  “Aye, aye, all right,” the old man said, slowly rising to his feet and grabbing his cane. Without saying good-bye to his companion, he shuffled through the pub and out onto the street, Nuala and Eden trailing behind him. They walked through the main part of town and up a dusty side road until they came to a small house with peeling green paint and empty window boxes. “This way, this way,” he said, as he opened the door and went inside. Nuala’s nose wrinkled and Eden sneezed when they stepped inside the house. The acrid smell of pipe tobacco hung thick in the air.

  “Where is it?” Nuala asked, impatient.

  “’Tis in the safe,” he s
aid. He went to the corner of his bedroom and pulled a torn and dirty afghan off a small safe that sat on the floor. Nuala watched as he spun the dial back and forth until it clicked. He reached inside and pulled out a simple wooden box. With effort, he stood up again, holding the box.

  “Show it to me,” Nuala said. Eden sat on the floor and watched.

  The old man lifted the cover off the box. He put his hand in, and when he pulled it out, it looked as if it were covered in red paint. So fine was the fabric of the cohuleen druith that it clung to his flesh like a second skin. Nuala could see the knots and veins in his hand through the deep red sheen.

  She reached out and swept the fabric off his hand like a cobweb. He watched, wordlessly, as she took the box from him and let the cohuleen druith fall back into it. “Deardra sends her regards,” she murmured.

  Then the old man spoke, and although he had given her the cohuleen druith without resistance, his eyes were sharp and canny. “I’ll be givin’ you this because I value my life, and I see that yer a woman to be reckoned with. But you should know what kind of a creature you’ll be givin’ it to. I was enchanted by her, to be sure, and I’ll take the blame for gettin’ to know her as I did. I had a wife, and three fine children, and when I wouldn’t go to live with her under the waves, leavin’ my children to starve, she killed them all. And so I did go with her then, lest she kill my brother and his children too. I became her lover, and when my chance came, I stole what’s in that box yer holdin’ as payment for my wife and children’s lives. I thought maybe she would die from the lack of it, but since she sent you, I can see I was mistaken, and more’s the pity. And though you may spare the life of an old man, I can be certain she will not.”

  Nuala glanced down at Eden, who had curled up into a ball on the floor and was staring blankly at the wall, not listening anymore. Nuala prodded her with her foot.

  “Eden. Go outside.”

  Eden looked up at her, but didn’t move.

  “I said, go outside. Wait for me there.”

  Nuala bent down and hauled Eden to her feet. She opened the door to the small house, being careful not to let Eden touch it, and then deposited her on the front walkway where she could see her out of the corner of her eye. Eden didn’t seem inclined to escape, or even move. She just sat back down on the dirt path and resumed staring at nothing. Nuala frowned and resolved to get some food into the girl as soon as this was over.

  She slid the box into her bag and turned back to the man, moving out of Eden’s line of sight. “Humans and greater beings such as the Merrow are not meant to be together,” she said, looking at him impassively, “as you have no doubt learned. The result is always the same.” With one smooth movement, she drew a small silver knife from under her jacket and swept it across the old man’s neck. As he crumpled to the floor, she quickly retrieved the cohuleen druith and held it to the gash. She was amazed at the amount of blood the weightless material was able to absorb. When she had soaked up enough, she put the cloth back into the box and the box into her bag.

  “Let’s go,” she said to Eden as she stepped out of the house and closed the door behind her. Normally, she would have disposed of the body more thoroughly, but the sooner they got back to Deardra, the sooner she would no longer have to worry about covering her tracks from humans ever again.

  The sun was once again beginning its descent into the ocean when they returned to the shoreline and the moaning, pacing queen. Nuala had risked a stop at the general store on their way out of town to buy some food for Eden, who had devoured two apples, half a box of crackers, a hunk of cheese, and a bottle of milk. Not relishing the thought of carrying the lethargic child the six miles back to Deardra, Nuala had simply flagged down a passing car and told its owner to give it to them. After crawling into the backseat, Eden had promptly fallen asleep. Nuala glanced at her in the rearview mirror. The girl’s long eyelashes rested on her cheeks, and her mouth hung slightly open. Her dark hair was tangled and matted and her face was smudged with dirt where she had tried to push her hair out of her eyes. Her pants, which had once been pink, were now a mottled gray.

  I have stolen a child, Nuala thought to herself.

  You are taking her home, answered a stronger voice inside her. She will not be harmed; Lorcan needs to keep her alive if he wants to use her gift. She’ll be treated well. She doesn’t belong here, not in this world, with that human woman and a father who has become too much like the humans he so loves. Someday she will thank me…and in the meantime, we will both be where we belong.

  Her thoughts turned to Tír na nÓg and she drove faster, jostling Eden in the backseat as the car bumped along the dusty road. Soon she recognized the trail that led to Deardra’s shore and pulled the car over. She half-considered letting the child stay asleep but quickly rejected the idea. The young sidh-maker could disappear from her grasp with no more effort than it took to open the car door. She lifted Eden into her arms. The child snorted softly and squirmed but stayed asleep as Nuala maneuvered them through the path to the cliff’s edge. She found the golden thread again and muttered the words of peace. Then she wrapped it around one hand, and held Eden closely to her with the other. The thread had lowered them about halfway down the cliff when without warning Eden let out a bloodcurdling scream and started to flail her arms and legs. Nuala almost lost her grip on the girl and on the golden rope as Eden thrashed and convulsed, her legs kicking at Nuala repeatedly.

  “Eden, stop!” Nuala shouted. Eden kept on flailing, and Nuala had to tighten her grip so hard she was sure she would break the girl’s ribs. When her feet touched ground, she let go of the rope and released her hold on Eden, who fell onto the rocks and looked up at Nuala in wide-eyed horror. Then she scrambled to her feet and ran toward the ocean’s edge, screaming.

  “Eden!” Nuala called after her. What had gotten into the child? “Eden!”

  Suddenly Deardra was beside Eden and had knelt down in front of her. “Hush, child,” she said as she held out a large fan-shaped shell. “It is not as it seems. You are safe here on my shores.” Eden’s eyes were still wide and her breathing heavy, but she had stopped running. Nuala walked slowly toward them, trying to stay out of Eden’s line of sight lest she start screaming again.

  Eden took the shell and turned it over. “What is it really?” she asked.

  Deardra smiled. “Very good, child. It, too, is not as it seems.” She touched the shell, which filled with a clear pink liquid that smelled like strawberries. “Drink,” Deardra said. “It will calm you, and clear your mind.”

  Nuala watched as Eden tipped up the shell and drank, licking her lips. When she looked back up at Deardra, her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks flushed. “Can I have some more?” she asked with a shy smile.

  Deardra laughed. It sounded like a poorly tuned violin, and Nuala winced. “Perhaps later, child. Right now your friend and I have business to attend to.”

  Nuala pulled the box out of her bag but did not hand it over. “I have done what I promised to do. Will you show the child Brighid’s painting?” she asked.

  Deardra looked at the box hungrily. “For sixty years I have paced this shore,” she rasped. “Now I will rule the sea again. Yes. I will show this child the painting, but not tonight. The painting is in my home under the waters, and I must go and reclaim my throne before I can safely escort you there.”

  Nuala felt the blood rise to her face, and she struggled not to lash out at the woman in front of her. “And when,” she asked through gritted teeth, “will this be? We do not have the luxury of time, I’m afraid.”

  Deardra looked indifferent. “You have been exiled for many years now. One more night should make no difference. Come back at first light and you shall have what you desire. And now, give me the cohuleen druith.”

  Nuala could see that she didn’t have a choice, although she knew there was a very good chance the other Tuatha Dé Danann would give in and ask Brighid for help if their other sources turned up nothing. She had tried to convince Br
ighid to forget about the painting’s existence, but Brighid was one of the Elders, who had come from the Four Cities. She was not easily bewitched, and Nuala had needed to satisfy herself with convincing Brighid to forget their conversation.

  “Where can we spend the night?” she asked Deardra, who was waiting for an answer. “I do not wish to take the child back to the human village.” Eden, energized by the shell drink, was jumping from rock to rock a little way down the shore.

  “You may stay in the hut,” Deardra answered. “You will find it most comfortable.”

  Nuala looked at the hut surrounded by the icy Atlantic waters. It looked far from comfortable, and it seemed like a better idea to climb back up the cliff to sleep in the car.

  “All is not as it seems,” Deardra reminded her, and Nuala nodded, not wanting to offend the Merrow by refusing her hospitality. Then Deardra held out her hand for the box, and Nuala gave it to her.

  The queen’s eyes glittered as she lifted the blood-soaked cloth from its wooden nest. At her touch, the cohuleen druith rose into the air and settled over her matted purple hair, weaving together with the strands until her hair fell smooth and silky down her back, neither purple nor red, but the ever-changing colors of sunset. Her skin lost its green tinge and became as pure as the whitest sand on a Caribbean shore. The red veins in her eyes drew back, unveiling bright turquoise irises flecked with gold. Under the sheer white gown her body plumped, her wasted breasts filling and rising and her hips forming lush hills and valleys where there was once only brittle bone and taut skin. She let out a peal of laughter that no longer grated on Nuala’s nerves, but instead made her feel refreshed, as if she had just had a cool drink of water. Even Eden had stopped her makeshift game of hopscotch to stare at the transformation of the Merrow queen.

  Without a word to either of them, Deardra turned and sprinted for the shore, peeling off the white gown and throwing it into the air. When she reached the water’s edge, she leapt into the air, twisted, and disappeared without a splash or a ripple into the water. The last thing Nuala saw was the flick of a golden tail.