by Jodi McIsaac
“That was so cool!” Eden squealed as she ran over to where Nuala stood watching the waves. “Wasn’t that cool, Auntie Nuala?” Nuala looked at her sharply. She hadn’t told Eden to call her that, and it made her uneasy. Maybe it was just the effect of whatever it was Deardra had given the child, who was still bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.
“What are we doing now?” Eden asked as she bounced.
“We spend the night in that,” Nuala said, nodding toward the decrepit hut that looked far from hospitable.
Eden stopped bouncing and wrinkled her nose. “How do we get there? I’m not a very good swimmer.”
“I don’t think we’ll have to swim,” Nuala said, walking down the shoreline. “The Merrow were once renowned for their hospitality, if you could find them.” She took off her shoes and tentatively placed a foot in the water, bracing herself for the sharp pain of bitter cold. Instead, she found the water quite warm. When she pulled her foot out again, it was dry.
“Let’s try walking there,” Nuala said, holding out her hand to Eden, who was giving her an uncertain look. “Come on, it’ll be fine,” she said. “I won’t let you drown.” Eden was not visibly cheered by this, but took Nuala’s hand all the same and stepped into the water. Nuala kept expecting the water to get deeper, but it stayed at Eden’s waist level even though they couldn’t see the bottom. It felt comfortable, like wading through a warm bath. Reaching the rocks where the hut was perched, Nuala helped Eden climb up before pulling herself up behind her. Eden started to open the door to the hut, and Nuala roared, “Don’t touch it!” Eden froze and looked back at her in bewilderment.
“I just meant that you should save your strength. The place where we’re going, where your father is, it’s quite far away, and it might take a lot of energy to open the door between here and there. So I don’t think you should even touch any doors until then, just in case it uses up more of your strength.”
Eden pouted, but she stood back from the door. Nuala opened it. Inside, the hut looked just as it did from the outside: wooden, bare, decrepit. Suddenly, Eden reached down and pulled on a handle that was sticking up out of the floor.
“No!” Nuala screamed, flinging out her arm to grab the girl.
“Ow! You’re hurting me!” Eden cried in pain as she dropped the handle.
Nuala kept hold of Eden’s arm. “I told you not to touch any doors.”
“I just wanted to know where it went!” Eden yelled back at her.
Nuala bent down and lifted up the handle, opening the trap door just big enough for one person to squeeze through. Getting on her hands and knees, she peered down.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A delicate ladder led down to what looked like a large glass room, where there should have been only rocks. Nuala told Eden to climb down first, and then she followed her, closing the trap door above them. As soon as Eden’s feet touched the floor, the glass room filled with an eerie, rippling light, like the color of sunlight reflecting on the sand beneath calm, shallow waters. Large, plush cushions lay clustered around the floor in deep shades of purple, blue, and green. Bowls of fresh fruit and large shells filled with clear, fragrant water stood on a pedestal in the center of the room. The glass bubble was surrounded on all sides by water, and even the ladder seemed to rise up into the waves. It was like being inside the world’s lushest, most exotic aquarium, instead of under a pile of rocks in the North Atlantic. Outside the glass walls, brightly colored parrotfish swam past, darting between the waving strands of sea grass and towers of coral. Eden pressed her face against the curved glass, oohing and ahhing over the schools of tiny damselfish, squealing in delight as a giant sea turtle swam by, and staring in wonder at the curling arms of an octopus tucked in a coral cave. The room was warm, and light shone through the waves, casting moving designs on the floor, even though Nuala knew it was now dark outside. She admired the magic of the Merrow, who had created such a beautiful place, and closed her eyes to take in the soothing sounds of rolling waves and rustling sea grasses. After a moment, Nuala walked up behind Eden and gently laid her hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“See, my dear?” she said softly. “When you listen to Auntie Nuala, everything turns out just right.”
Eden sighed with pleasure, and then sank down onto a cushion to stare at the spectacle around them. Nuala placed a bowl of fruit and a goblet of water next to her, and then retreated across the room to watch the girl.
Auntie Nuala, she thought, snorting slightly. This girl was her ticket out of this mundane hellhole. Rewards, a royal pardon, they would all be hers for delivering the child. But there was no reason why she should stop there.
Nuala awoke at first light. She had slept at the bottom of the ladder as a precaution, but Eden had not attempted to escape. She was still asleep, slumped over on the same pile of cushions she had been sitting on the night before.
Nuala gently prodded the girl awake. “It’s time, Eden. It’s time to go see your father.” Eden blinked at her and stretched, then sat up.
“Now?” she said with a growing smile.
Nuala nodded. “First, we’ll visit the mermaids, and they’ll show us a really lifelike picture of where your father is. Then you’ll be able to take us there. I bet he’s so excited to meet you.”
Eden’s smile faltered, and she looked at her fingers.
“What’s wrong?” Nuala asked. “Aren’t you excited too?”
“What’s my father like?” Eden asked.
Nuala paused before answering. The child couldn’t possibly be getting cold feet at this point. “I’ve known him since he was born,” she said. “He’s a lot like you. He’s very handsome and strong. He loves music. He can play any instrument ever created, and he makes songs so beautiful you want to listen to them forever. He’s strong-willed, some would call him stubborn, and sometimes reckless. He asks a lot of questions, just like you. And he loves you very much.”
“My mum said he didn’t even know I was born,” Eden said, not looking up.
“I told you before, that’s because she didn’t tell him,” Nuala said. “She wanted to keep you away from him. But he knows now; as soon as I found out about you, I told him. I’m trying to bring the two of you together. He’s so sorry he hasn’t had a chance to get to know you. He wants to make up for all that lost time.”
“How do you know him?” Eden asked.
Because I was supposed to marry him, Nuala thought, trying to keep the bitterness from showing on her face. When the small group of survivors had escaped to Ériu, one of their priorities had been to rebuild their numbers, and that meant procreation. Nuala had had several lovers in Tír na nÓg. The relationships had never lasted, however, because the men grew suspicious of her power and began to question whether they loved her of their own free will, or if she had enchanted them. Nuala, in turn, could never know for certain if their affections were real or a result of the charm she unconsciously exuded. In Tír na nÓg, Nuala had tried to suppress her ability, and had never used it to gain power for herself. She’d had plenty of friends and a good reputation among the Tuatha Dé Danann. But intimate relationships had been more difficult. When Finn was born, they had all waited and watched to see if he would, as expected, inherit his father’s immunity to Nuala’s power. It would be the perfect match—both of them would be able to rest in the knowledge that their affection for each other was real and uncoerced.
Except Finn did not love her, despite being the only person in both worlds who could do so freely. Nuala’s insides burned at the thought. Instead, he had paid her the ultimate insult by choosing to be with a human, a fact he had managed to conceal from the rest of the Tuatha Dé Danann for over two years.
Well, look where that’s gotten you now, she thought bitterly. Your human pet can’t stand you, and your daughter is about to be far beyond your reach. Oh, I’m sure you’ll see her again—standing beside Lorcan as he slowly guts you just to listen to you scream. Her face tightened in determination. She wasn’t goi
ng to return to her old, passive self, trying to hide her ability to win trust and acceptance from others. Lorcan was no sidh-closer; he would be as susceptible to her ability as any other person. If she played her cards right, there would be no limit to her power.
“Nuala?” Eden asked, and Nuala focused her eyes back on the girl and forced herself to smile.
“Our families have been friends for a long time. C’mon, let’s go,” she said, starting to climb the ladder.
After walking back through the impossibly warm, dry water, they climbed gingerly over rocks slippery with dew and mist. The morning was cold, and the sky was obscured by a thin layer of clouds diffusing the sun’s early rays. They reached the spot along the shore where Deardra had left them the day before. Nuala realized she had no idea how to contact Deardra or let her know they had arrived. She wondered if they should have waited in the hut. Eden was starting to shiver, and Nuala hated standing here so exposed. She knew it was only a matter of time before some of the other Tuatha Dé Danann went to see Brighid. Then they would descend on these shores where they had once ruled, but hopefully they would be too late.
Brighid had said this painting was as accurate a depiction of Tír na nÓg as her own memories, which were flawless. Once Eden set eyes on it, they would be gone, leaving the others behind with the humans they so desperately wanted to protect. Let them stay, she thought. They’ve chosen their side, and I have chosen mine too. Still, she looked up at the cliff top behind them with unease. She reached down and put a hand into the water. “Deardra?” she called. Nothing.
“Can we go back to the glass room now? I’m freezing,” Eden said through chattering teeth.
Nuala got down on her knees and pulled her hair back into one hand. Crouching as low as she could, she touched her lips to the water, wincing as she tasted the salt. “Deardra?” she said again.
She stood up and wiped her mouth. For a moment she wondered if she would need to involve Anya, who, with her ability to control the ocean, would be able to push back the water and expose the Merrow kingdom in an instant. Anya regarded the Merrow with suspicion, as did most of the Danann. It would be easy enough to convince her to fight against them—after all, Nuala possessed the ability to convince almost anyone of almost anything—but getting her involved would complicate things, and Nuala had encountered enough complications on this quest.
Just as she was starting to strategize on how she could separate Anya from the others and bring her here, there was a disturbance over the water. A small whirlpool formed about ten feet offshore. It spun and twisted, and then out of it rose Deardra—not the haggard, spurned woman who had roamed the shore for sixty years, but a queen of the Merrow in all her beauty and majesty. As the whirling water carried her to shore, her golden tail separated into two smooth, pearl-white legs, and she stepped out of the water to greet them.
“What happened to your tail?” Eden asked before Nuala had formed some proper words of greeting.
Deardra smiled and bent to pat Eden on the head. “Sometimes I wish we kept our young,” she said. “Your curiosity is refreshing, little one.”
“What do you do with them?” Eden asked, but Nuala interrupted her.
“Greetings, Queen. We give you our thanks for your excellent hospitality. You were, of course, quite right. The hut is certainly not what it first seemed.”
Deardra nodded graciously. “And I, too, am grateful for the service you have given me, and will reward you as you have requested. There are many rooms in my palace below the waves, and adorning one of them is this painting you wish to see. I cannot bring it above the waves, for the touch of air would ruin it. But I can take you to it, and you may consider yourselves fortunate. Not since the Son of Lir have we welcomed one of your race into our home.”
“You are very gracious,” Nuala answered, “but Manannan mac Lir possessed a certain affinity for the water which we do not. We cannot breathe without air.”
“I shall remedy that,” Deardra said, and without warning she stepped forward and kissed Nuala on the lips. It was a slow, lingering kiss, and Nuala could feel tendrils of heat rising in her body. She opened her mouth to take a breath, and then realized it was not Deardra’s mouth on hers that was preventing her from taking in air. She pulled back, eyes wide, and Deardra smiled. “My pleasure,” she murmured, and nodded her head toward the water. “You’ll find you can breathe quite easily once you’re below the surface.”
Nuala took a step toward the water, then turned and looked pointedly at Eden. “Yes, yes, she’ll be right behind you,” Deardra said, bending down to give Eden a quick peck on the lips. “No need to panic,” she said to the child as she led her toward the water’s edge. “You’ll be able to swim in my kingdom as well as you can walk in yours.”
Nuala took Eden’s other hand, and together the three of them disappeared beneath the waves.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Cedar was fighting to stay awake. More accurately, she was fighting to avoid falling asleep on Finn’s shoulder. They were crammed together in the backseat of a rental car, with Rohan and Riona in the front. In the van ahead of them were Anya, Murdoch, and Oscar, as well as Felix and Finn’s sister, Molly. They had flown through the night again, arriving in Dublin just as the sun was beginning to rise. Her head kept nodding, but then Eden’s face would appear in her mind and a fresh jolt of adrenaline would jerk her upright.
“Cedar, sleep, dear,” Riona said. “It’s a four-hour drive, and you might as well take advantage of it.”
“I slept on the plane,” Cedar muttered.
“Not enough,” Finn said.
Cedar looked at him in annoyance. “Don’t the People of Danu need to sleep?” Finn raised his eyebrows at the title. “I looked you up online,” she said in response. “Tuatha Dé Danann means the People of the Goddess Danu.”
“Yes, well, don’t believe everything you read,” he said.
“I haven’t read anything about you specifically, though, although I suppose I don’t know any of your real names, do I? Except for Fionnbharr,” she said, stumbling over the pronunciation.
“Riona is my real name,” Riona said from the front seat. “And Rohan’s isn’t too far off. It’s Ruadhan. He really has less gray, though,” she said with a smile, reaching over to ruffle the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Right, you don’t really look this way either,” Cedar said.
“I do,” Finn said. “One of the perks of actually being young is that it’s okay to look that way. But you’re right about the rest of them, for the most part.” He grinned. “Felix got his old fisherman look off a postcard he saw in a gift store. In reality, he’s…well, let’s just say I hope you don’t ever have the pleasure of seeing him in his true form. He makes the rest of us look like trolls.”
“Yes, well, he does have a flair for the dramatic,” Riona said. “Most of us just appear to be an older version of ourselves. Felix is the only one to completely reinvent his appearance.”
“And what’s his real name?” Cedar asked.
“Toirdhealbhach,” Finn answered. “It’s a bit of a mouthful.”
“No kidding,” Cedar said. “So, when we find this painting, how are we going to destroy it? Is it just like a normal painting?” Cedar was quite sure that nothing she encountered on this trip was going to be “normal.”
“We’re not going to destroy it,” Rohan said from the front, his first words since they had started driving.
“What are you talking about?” Cedar asked. “We have to destroy it before Eden sees it!”
She looked at Finn to back her up. He remained silent.
“What?” she demanded.
“We can’t destroy it,” he said. “We need it. Right now Eden is our only hope of ever getting back to Tír na nÓg. She’s the only one who can create the sidh, and she’ll need to see that painting.”
“Are you insane? Eden has been kidnapped by one of your people, who’s trying to use her to return to some all-powerful psychopathic
mass murderer in your world. The painting is the only way she can get there. If we destroy it, Nuala won’t be able to use Eden. She’ll let her go!”
“We don’t know that,” Rohan said. “Like you said, for all we know, this is the only route to Tír na nÓg in existence. We cannot risk destroying it—not if we ever want to go back.”
“We can make another one! Brighid commissioned that painting; can’t you just do the same after we have Eden back?”
“It’s Brighid’s power that makes the painting so close to reality,” Rohan said, his passionless voice contrasting with Cedar’s. “We have no guarantee that she would help us create another one.”
“You haven’t even asked her!” She saw Rohan glance at Finn in the rearview mirror. “What was that, your ‘Hey, Finn, keep your dog on a leash’ look?” she snarled. “I know there’s some sort of bigger battle-of-the-gods thing happening here. I get it. I know you don’t care what I think, but I need to get my daughter back. I need to keep her safe, and she’s not going to be safe with that picture floating around, no matter who has it. I’ll destroy it myself if I have to.”
None of them answered her, and it felt pointless to continue tirading against the silence. She bunched her jacket up against the window and shoved her face into it, too upset to sleep but too tired to think straight. She closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to see Eden again, how tightly she would hold her. I found your father, Eden, she thought. But now I can’t find you. Must I always be without one of you?
She awoke to the sound of tense voices. The car was stopped on the side of the road, and Finn and his parents were standing outside, talking with Murdoch and Felix.
“It might just be a local,” Riona was saying, “or a traveler who ran out of gas.”
“Not bloody likely,” Felix growled. “We need to be prepared for the worst.”