Bidding Henry goodnight, I crossed the hall into my own room and undressed, leaving my shoes and stockings, silk gown, petticoat, stays and shift in an untidy pile on the floor where they fell. Exposed to my skin, I retrieved a simple white sheath from the back of the armoire and pulled it over my head. It was too risky to leave just yet so I paced impatiently back and forth across the room. When enough time had passed for Henry to be settled for the night, I threw a shawl over my shoulders and passed barefooted through the house to my apothecary to fetch a small bundle of dried herbs and a flint. Then I opened the door and slipped out into the night.
Partway across the lawn, an uneasy feeling crept over me and I looked back at the house. Other than the moonlight, it was entirely dark. I thought my mind must be playing tricks until my eyes fell on Henry, standing like a statue at his window, watching me. For a moment we stared at each other before I turned and ran into the woods.
Chapter Six
Checkmate
I didn’t stop running until Brighmor was well out of view. With my heart pounding, I ducked out of sight behind a large oak tree to wait. A good ten minutes passed before my heart finally slowed, and I felt confident that Henry hadn’t followed me. Returning to the narrow pathway, I walked at a more leisurely pace, throwing the occasional furtive look over my shoulder as I went deeper and deeper into the woods to the manmade alcove that had been built right into the sidhe, or small earthen mound.
Years ago my grandparents had carved away enough dirt to stack large rocks three feet high, forming a wall in the shape of a half-moon. It measured about twelve feet from end to end with an arc deep enough to accommodate my full height if I were inclined to lie down. In the middle of the arc stood an altar, hewn from a piece of gray granite that had been sealed to the earth by my grandmother’s blood mixed with a handful of sacred dirt brought over from the Old World. Green and brown lichen grew on the stones, and dense foliage pushed up along the perimeter, ready to spill over into the clearing.
With the rock wall behind me, I knelt down at the altar and set the dried herbs on the smooth stone surface, charred black from countless fires. Finding the flint, I struck it repeatedly to release a shower of white sparks over the bundle. As it started to smolder, fragrances of cowslip, angelica, and goat’s rue rose up. With a long, deep breath, I pulled the smoke inside, letting it inundate my senses. Then I began to recite the ancient words in preparation to cross over.
Brigid Buadach, Buaid na fine, Siur Rig nime, Nar in duine, Eslind luige, Lethan breo.
Riar na n-oiged, Oibel ecnai, Ingen Dubthaig, Duine uallach, Brigid buadach, Brigid
buadach.
The physical world began to waver. Keeping my voice to a low monotone, I repeated the Gaelic words. At the end of the third repetition, the trees and stones, the smoldering bundle, all flickered in and out of view, then disappeared altogether as my soul passed into to the Otherworld.
For a moment, there was nothing more than thick gray mist and the memory of burning herbs. I stepped out of the mist into the warm sunlight at the edge of Brigid’s garden, free of the night and my body that remained kneeling at the altar.
*
Sunrise was only a few hours away when I returned home, my strength renewed from the Otherworld. Power permeated my entire being, spreading from my soul all the way to the fine hairs on my skin. Crawling into bed, I fell asleep, warmed to my core and smelling faintly of sweetness and soil.
I woke once at the usual hour with vague recollections of the long list that had been planned for the day. Opting instead for more sleep, I burrowed deeper beneath the sheets, partially to make up for being out much of the night, but mostly to avoid running into Henry.
The breakfast hour was long past when I finally dressed and went downstairs. Hoping Mary hadn’t yet cleared the food from the dining room, I went there first, groaning silently when I found Henry still seated at the table. He should have be gone with Ben by now, affording me the luxury of eating breakfast without dodging questions about last night. Of course, the subject couldn’t be avoided forever. I just hadn’t decided whether to tell him to bugger off and mind his own business or offer up some silly excuse about needing to collect a rare type of mushroom that only came out with the full moon.
“Good morning, Selah,” he said pleasantly as I walked in and took a seat. His chair was pushed away from the table and he leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Good morning,” I returned, forcing myself to sound positively chipper despite my annoyance.
“You seem nicely rested. Did you sleep well?” he asked, all smiles and feigned innocence, as though he hadn’t watched me run off in the dead of the night.
“Wonderfully so. I thought you were going out with Ben again this morning.”
His plate had already been cleared and an empty teacup sat on the white tablecloth in front of him—sure signs that he had purposefully delayed his departure. “I am. We’re going to the blacksmith to have some horses reshod and then to get a harness repaired. What do you have planned today?”
“I had hoped to spend the day with my best friend Nora. But thanks to Nathan Crowley, I think it best to visit instead with two women who are well connected and always seem the first to know any local gossip.”