The cliff face has several large cracks, and the first one we try only leads to a shadowed, mossy dead end. The next fissure starts several feet off the ground, so I use my fenodyree strength to boost Kieran up to the opening.
"I should be the one lifting you," he grumbles.
"That's either very sexist or very chivalrous of you," I say. "Just check it out and hurry back." He moves deeper into the fissure, out of my sight.
I don't like being left by myself out here. The sky is getting darker by the minute. I'm alone on the side of a mountain that nobody knows about, that no one ever visits or photographs, and it's spooky. Is it my imagination, or is there a faint hum of magic in the air, along with the chill of the wind?
The forest stretches out below me, rolling hills of darkening green. Far away, across a couple of valleys, I can see the promontory that is Chimney Rock, looking like a stone dinosaur head jutting out of the distant mountain. But in a few minutes it's too dark to distinguish that landmark very well.
Suddenly a sound, a rhythmic clomping and clattering on the earth and stones nearby, to my left as I face the valley. I shrink into the scattered bushes along the cliff.
The thumping and scraping sound comes again, nearer this time, and then I see it— a massive black horse with a rider on its back. The rider has thick, denim-clad legs, a heavy plaid shirt— and a column of black smoke where its head should be.
Dullahan.
One of the creature's hands holds the horse's reins, and the other carries a battleaxe. Like an actual, old-school battleaxe. In the pictures I've seen of dullahan, they're always carrying their heads in their hands, or under their arms— which I think must be kind of awkward and inconvenient for fighting, or doing anything.
Where the heck is this guy's head?
"Boo!" says a voice at my ear, and a horrific laugh rings out in the night.
I scream; I can't help it— because hanging in the air, not two feet to my right, is the dullahan's head, all smoky tendrils and scorched flesh and flaming eyeballs. It's laughing at me, its grin huge and skeletal. I seize a rock and throw it, but the head dodges and loops back around, still leering at me.
Swiftly I speak the immobilization spell Kieran always uses— and the head freezes in midair. The silent body of the dullahan tenses with rage, and he pulls on the reins. His steed rears, pawing the air, then gallops toward me.
"Láidreacht!" I yell, for strength, and I start climbing the rocks, up toward the fissure where Kieran disappeared.
Suddenly he's there on the ledge, reaching for me. I seize his hand and claw at the rocks— and he pulls me onto the lip of the fissure just as the dullahan swings his battleaxe. It clangs and sparks harmlessly on the rocks, right where I was a second ago.
The dullahan scoops up his immobilized head and rides back the way he came, probably to tell his cronies that we're here.
"Are you all right?" Kieran says.
"Yes! Let's follow him. I'll transport us closer, you make us invisible."
"It won't last long," he warns me.
"It doesn't have to. We just need to see where the entrance is."
I hold him tightly and we blink as far as I can see in the direction the rider disappeared. When we appear again, he's just rounding another curve in the cliff face, so I transport one more time to get us close. We land so near to the horse's back hooves that I feel bits of gravel bounce against my jeans. Kieran whispers a Gaelic word, dofheicthe, and suddenly I can't see him or myself. It's the weirdest sensation to feel myself moving, existing, and to see no visible evidence of me. I stifle a gasp and clutch his arm as he pulls me forward.
The horse is turning— it looks like the dullahan just rode straight into the rock face. But as we creep closer, I see that there's a pitch-black gap behind a curving edge of rock. It's hard to see— a person might walk past and never realize the opening was there.
I wonder if there are really any endangered bats in the cave. I wouldn't put it past the previous generations of druids to float that story and legitimize it somehow, just to keep the Second Gate safe. If there are any bats, they should be entering hibernation soon. Hopefully this whole Samhain mess won't disturb them— not that we can help it if it does.
Kieran pulls me behind an outcropping of rock, and suddenly we both reappear. "No cameras that I can see," he says. "Although it's dark, so I could be mistaken. It looks as if the druids are using the dullahan as guards here. No need for cameras or traps with those creatures around."
"We need to get inside," I whisper back. "To see how many there are, and what else is in there."
"Give me a minute." He takes a deep breath. "I'll go in and see if I can get a few pictures; but you can't come, love. I can't keep up cover for both of us. If you're in danger, transport back to the treeline, where we first came up, and wait for me there."
He takes my hands for a second; his feel so warm compared to mine. "You're fingers are freezing," he says. "Just a little longer, and we'll be out of here. Then I can warm you up." I can't see his face well in the dark, but I hear the velvet in his voice, and it sends a tingle through my body. Then he disappears, and I'm alone in the dark again.
What if he can't hold the invisibility long enough, and they catch him? They'll try to keep him and sacrifice him for real this time. I hate this— I hate waiting and worrying. Why does love come with so much worry and stress? Caring about someone makes you suddenly, painfully aware of all the different terrible things that could happen to that person.
For a second I think about Magnolia, and how she used to tell me stories of all the dangers in the world. Germs in pools, brain-eating amoebas in lakes, sharks in the ocean. To hear her talk, you'd think that every forest was swarming with ticks and a copperhead lurked by every sunny rock.
Fear is powerful. If I give in, it could force me to shrink my world smaller, down to the things that I think I can control. It can rule my life if I let it.
Or I can face it. I can choose to live life to the fullest anyway, with a healthy dose of caution and an even bigger helping of boldness. That's one of the things I love about Kieran— he doesn't back away from risk. He's smart about it, or he would never have survived this long— so he doesn't do crazy things unnecessarily. But he's got enough of the daredevil in him to make life exciting.
Just then, I hear hoofbeats again, and seven dullahan come thundering out of the cave. Three of them ride right past me, heads floating high above them, looking this way and that. I crouch down in the shadow of the rocks, praying to the Fates that those flaming eyes won't spy me.
They probably didn't realize we'd follow as fast as we did, because they don't look carefully right outside the cave. In a few minutes the sound of those heavy hooves scatters over the mountainside as the riders spread out to search for us.
I wonder if I dare sneak into the cave after Kieran. I hope they didn't trample him on their way out.
After another minute, I slip around the rocks and enter the cave.
It's a narrow fissure, twice as tall as one of the riders and just wide enough for the dullahan to ride through single file. Like a knife wound, it slices deep into the mountainside. I follow the crack into the mountain, feeling my way along. There's some kind of artificial light ahead— when I come to it I see that it's an electric bulb in a metal cage, attached to a hook in the rock. A thick black cord runs from it along the rocky wall. They must have a generator somewhere around here.
A couple of passages break off from the main channel, but I follow the central fissure until it opens up into an immense cave. Keeping close to the wall, in the shadow of the tunnel, I peer out into the vast cavern. A generator humming not far from where I stand powers more lights for the space. Several dullahan, wearing their golden throat bands, sit in the back half of the cavern, playing a card game on some kind of stone table, far enough away that they don't notice me.
Wait a second. Not a stone table. A druid altar, complete with chains and manacles. Great.
Aga
inst one wall, there's a pile of bundles and plastic bins, a folding table, and a couple of computers. Supplies, probably for the dullahan or for the ritual. I think briefly about sabotage, but there's probably nothing important here, nothing they couldn't replace easily. Nothing worth revealing myself to destroy.
The far wall of the cavern, opposite from the tunnel, is so distant I can't make it out in much detail— but I can see a pale seam of rock, like a scar, running through the dark gray stone of the cave. That must be the Gate.
Glancing around at the rest of the cavern, I see wards and runes drawn on the walls. I won't be able to transport in here, or use my pixie instinct. My strength will still work, and my Korrigan Life-Stealing, and my dance magic. Just nothing that involves finding the place, or switching locations inside it.
A hand clamps over my mouth in the dark, while an arm slips around my waist and draws me backward, away from the cavern entrance. It's Kieran; I can smell his scent, and there's a thrill through my stomach when he pulls me right against his chest.
"I told you to wait," he says in my ear, in the barest of whispers.
When he takes his hand away from my mouth, I catch his fingers in mine and follow him out of the tunnel. The second we break into the night air, I turn and put both arms around him. We need to transport before the dullahan guards return.
At first I intend to take us straight to the Audi. But there's a whisper in my mind, a thought that comes just as I'm about to do the jump. An image of the stone circle that Zane and I discovered, before we ever knew about the druids. Specifically, an image of the outer part of the ring, and a wide, vertical stone.
The image won't leave my head; I can't shake it. So I take us there.
It's a bad move.
Because the circle is lined with people, rows and rows of them. Some in robes, most in regular human clothes. They have actual torches on posts around the circle, and on the altar in the center is a body, naked— I can't tell if it's a man or a woman because it's been split down the center, skin peeled back, just a mass of red glistening entrails with bare arms and legs sticking out.
Malcolm is standing over the body with a dripping knife, his bald forehead shining with sweat despite the cool air.
We appeared at the edge of the ring, partly behind one of the upright stones. The last row of druids have their backs to us, and since our appearance was perfectly silent, they haven't noticed us yet. Kieran grips my arm, and we both vanish.
He can't keep it up for long, but an opportunity like this is too good to miss. He pulls me behind the standing stone, drops the invisibility spell, and we freeze with our backs to the rock, listening.
"— not long till Samhain," Malcolm is saying loudly. "And then, my brothers and sisters, we will accomplish the greatest feat since the world began. An achievement worthy of the gods themselves. We will make a path for the creatures of our father Gesacus's Otherworld and allow them to join us here.
"Some of you still doubt that this is the right choice for us. You fear what the creatures will do to this world. If you have fears or questions, please, tell me right now. This is a safe space, and I will do all I can to set your minds at ease. I have all the answers you need. So come on, tell me your worries. Go ahead. Good, Mark. Thank you for being the first to start the Q and A time. Speak loudly so we can all hear, please."
A man speaks. "I'm sure I'm not the only one concerned for my family. How will our loved ones be protected as the beasts ravage the humans?"
"A good question," Malcolm says. "Each druid family will be given a mark to protect them from the creatures. All you have to do is draw the mark on each family member's chest, and they will be safe. A medallion will work, too— we've had some made, and those will be available on a first-come, first-serve basis. Next question, please!"
I glance at Kieran. This sounds like some kind of product rollout or corporate initiative. Malcolm must be a businessman when he's not being a druid.
It's a woman's voice this time, high and tense. Nervous. "I'm sure I'm not the only one wondering why we need to do this at all. We have good lives. We're all from different states, but we have community here, we have security, we have money and success. Why risk all that by opening the Gate?"
There's a soft murmur of voices, but I can't tell if they're in agreement with her or not.
"A fair question, and one that Stanley himself posed when he and I first discussed this venture," says Malcolm. "In fact, shortly before his tragic death at the hands of the Korrigan, Stanley told me he was having second thoughts. He wasn't sure we should go through with the opening of the Gate. Do you know what I told him?"
Silence.
"I told him that opening the Gate is the only way for our way of life to survive. The only way for our children to taste true magical power and gain their rightful place in society. Do you know what the humans would say if they could see us now? They would call us crazy. They'd label us a cult of murderers. They would lock us away in institutions or in prison. We live in fear of this every day, do we not? Hiding from family members and friends who would never understand?"
The crowd rumbles in agreement.
"But it was not always that way. In the early days, our ancestors ruled Ireland. We were the true power behind all kings and queens of the land, and we were respected and given the wealth and power we deserved. We were feared among the Fae, not ridiculed. We were lords and gods. The children of druids could learn the old ways openly and practice sacrifice with respect and dignity."
Respect and dignity? How about the respect and dignity of the victims?
"When we open the gate, the world will change," Malcolm says. "Monsters will be unleashed, beasts that only we can control or turn back. We will become powerful and respected again. People will come to us for protection and leadership. Think about it. Your children can learn to practice our religion without fear. Your friends will give you gifts in exchange for spells and charms. We can kick the feuding parties of old men out of our nation's government and replace them with people of our choosing. It will be a new world— a better world, for us and for our children."
It's a good speech. Apparently the crowd of druids thinks so too, because they burst into cheers and applause. When Malcolm quiets them, another man speaks out with a question.
"Is it really going to happen? Do we have everything we need?"
"Thank you for that question— that's an excellent point. We have the ritual, passed down by our ancestors and guarded for millennia. We lack a few key relics for the spell, but your leaders and I are working hard to collect those final pieces before the day itself. One more question, and then we must move on to the next part of our ceremony before the body gets too cold." He chuckles, and I suppress a shiver.
It's a different woman this time, one who sounds older. "What about the Korrigan, and the Far Darrig?"
Malcolm's voice is stiff, tense. "What about them?"
"They already killed many members of your North Carolina chapter. What if they try to stop the opening of the Gate?"
"We'll be ready for them," says Malcolm. "And what can they really do, against us and our Fae allies?"
The woman cuts him off. "I heard the young Korrigan stole lives from thirty of your people, all at the same time."
There's a gasp from a couple of people and a quick chattering around the circle. Kieran finds my hand and grins at me, pride in his eyes.
"Don't believe everything you hear," says Malcolm in a condescending tone. He sounds like he's smiling. "As for the Far Darrig, you should have seen the weak, whimpering creature he became after a few rounds with our dear departed friend Chuck."
I remember Chuck, his square face and his huge arms. He tortured Kieran within an inch of his life.
"Listen, everyone, I'd like to try something here. I'd like everyone who feels comfortable with the plan to go ahead and sit down. Right now, right where you are. Just sit down if you're on board with this, and you feel like you have a handle on what's going on."
There's a rustle of clothing and limbs in the circle. I frown at Kieran. What is Malcolm up to?
"All right, that's about everyone. We still have some folks with concerns, and that's very valid. I'm going to ask all of you who are standing to come up and partake first, so you have the benefit of the freshest parts, the extra strength and courage you need. Come on up here, and the rest of you please stay seated."
I can hear movement as the people who stayed standing move toward the altar. There's a slopping, squelching sound— some wet, squishy thumps. I don't want to hear this part. I don't want to think about what they're doing.
"Now that you've all been served," says Malcolm. "I'll speak the ritual for strength and courage. Please partake."
He starts chanting in Gaelic, but under the chant I can hear sounds, faint crunching and tearing and chewing.
They're eating the bloody sacrifice. Oh my gosh. I grip Kieran's fingers tightly.
Suddenly there's a gasp. Choking sounds, and retching. Several more gasps and outcries, and then a series of heavy thumps, as if bodies are falling to the ground.
Kieran nods at me and makes us both disappear again, and we peer around the stone.
About a dozen bodies lie beside the altar, their lips and chins smeared with blood, mouths foaming, eyes rolled back. In their hands or tumbled near their fingers lie chunks of wet red flesh.
Malcolm poisoned the sacrifice.
"This is what happens to those who stand in the way of the future," he says. "I give thanks to Gesacus for the rest of you, those who have the courage to join with us in this, the greatest endeavor of our time."
Kieran pulls me back behind the stone. We reappear— but just as we do, I see someone walking the perimeter of the clearing, coming toward us. A patrol, maybe? Not a very effective one, if so.
Quickly I grab Kieran and transport. We slam into the side of the Audi when we appear.
Samhain Page 12