“Ack!” Ailish choked. “That be a foul smell.” She scooted away and pressed the edge of her cape over her mouth and nose.
Another breath flowed to my lungs. “I’m going to the Otherworld. If...if I don’t wake soon, go to Wexford without me. Find Henry Fitzalan. He’ll know what to do.”
My heart dropped from the prospect of being left behind, helpless. How long could I live that way? A week before my body succumbed to dehydration. Perhaps less while detached from my soul. Regardless, I had to take the risk, or I was good as dead.
Julian had been in much worse straits than me, not even conscious of his own actions.
Ailish eyed me for a moment. “You’ll be grand,” she said, the words muffled by the cape. “Hurry back just. There’s no telling when Paddy will come looking for his da.”
Nodding, I began to quietly mumble the Gaelic words. At the end of the third repetition, my soul came free, and I waited in agonizing suspense for the pathway to propel me forward. It did, and the connecting altar flew by in a blur. Then the Otherworld grabbed hold, grudging at first, before tossing me unceremoniously into the mist.
I stumbled onto thick grass, my torso bent to the ground. Forcing my head up, I took in an empty garden. Not that privacy mattered at the moment. The garden could have been overflowing with goddess born, I had no choice but to continue forward.
One foot grudgingly followed the other. My legs shook with every step, nearly collapsing beneath me as I trudged toward the spring. At its edge, I dropped to my knees and cupped a hand to scoop water into my mouth.
Brigid’s fire rushed to my very center, and I cried out from the intense sensation of the nourishing warmth. With renewed strength, I retrieved the silver cup from the far edge of the pool. Water quivered at its brim when I lifted it to my lips. Draining the contents, I refilled it thrice more and drank to the point of bursting.
Heat burned from the inside out. With a satisfied sigh, I eyed the clear blue sky and lush grass, craving another hour or two before returning to the cold, damp woods. But Ailish was waiting, and every minute counted in our flight from Paddy.
Sighing once more, I contented myself with a full-body stretch that would have made the cat proud. Then squaring my shoulders, I started toward the mist, dreading all that lay ahead.
Balor’s blood...twenty miles to Wexford...a witch and a lunatic—
Something knocked me sideways. I yelped in surprise, the last part coming out in a pronounced “oompf” from the impact with the ground. One arm lay pinned beneath me, and I stared dazedly at the forest of grass lining my vision.
A few seconds passed before the world righted, and I pushed up to look around, not sure what to expect. Cate... Tom... Had one of them been here all along? And would they have tackled me like that?
Nothing appeared. The garden was empty and completely still other than the sound of my labored breath.
Recapturing the last minute, I pulled it apart for any hint of what had happened. Sudden gust of wind...shoved by another goddess born...stumbled over my own feet.
A sharp pain erupted in the fingers of one hand. “Ouch!” I yanked my arm back, but from what?
I opened and closed my fingers, bemused by the sensation that they had been trod upon. What’s happening to me? I started to close my fingers once more when understanding struck.
My body... Jumping up, I lifted my skirts and ran the remaining distance to the mist.
The mortal world took hold, yanking me forward as though well aware of the danger. With dizzying speed, it pulled me past the altar and through the passageway, thrusting me back into my body more forcefully than ever before. The cold hit me first, then the fact that I was lying down, one side of my face pressed into the ground.
My eyes parted to a wash of brown wool of Ailish’s cape. She stood like a protective wall in front of me, her boot heel an inch from my aching fingers. She must have pushed me over...but why?
“Go away,” she said tersely. “You’ll not be hurting her.”
Panic gripped my heart, tightening with each pulse. Desperate to protect myself, I made to stand, only to discover a terrible truth. Brigid’s fire had yet to spread to my body as it always did when I first returned. The rejoining must have been too abrupt, leaving me near paralyzed until my soul figured out it was back.
“Dear sister,” a man replied in a soft voice that put my teeth on edge. “I’ve no intent of harming Brigid’s whelp today.”
Surely, this couldn’t be Paddy. The man sounded older than Calhoun, and infinitely more sinister. He also sounded familiar, in an unpleasant sort of way.
“Then why did you follow us here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t think o’ lying, brother. I smelled you in the woods afore Passage East.”
A tense pause stretched for several heartbeats. “Our mistress sent me to kill the girl.”
“Well, you’ll not be having her.”