CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“There was a monster…did you kill it?” Cedar mumbled as Finn pulled her back onto the shore. She stumbled across the rocks, her arm firmly encased in his grip.
“I’ll explain later,” he said. “Right now we need to get out of here.”
She ducked and screamed as a giant eagle swooped down toward them. He pulled her in close.
“Shh! It’s okay!” he said. “It’s just Riona. The rope has disappeared so she’s going to lift us up to the top of the cliff.”
Cedar closed her mouth tightly to keep herself from screaming again as she felt the eagle’s bony talons close around them like a cage. It lifted them into the air and, seconds later, deposited them gently onto the same grassy bank where she had witnessed most of the battle. Finn immediately lifted her into his arms and started running toward the car. “I can walk!” she protested, but he ignored her. She saw Murdoch settling Oscar’s limp form into the back of the van.
“Is he…?” she asked Finn as he helped her into the car’s back seat and climbed in beside her. Rohan, who was already in the driver’s seat, started the car, and they turned onto the dusty road.
“Dead? Yes,” he answered. “And Molly is badly wounded, but she should be all right once Felix can tend to her. Riona is with her in the van. Anya probably has a concussion, but she’s too proud to admit it, and too distraught to let Felix even look at her. And now we have a new enemy, thanks to Nuala.”
“Where are we going?” she asked. Cedar felt as if she, too, had taken a hit to the head. She tried to focus, to remember what was going on, but her thoughts stumbled around in her head like a drunkard after last call.
“Away from here,” Finn said. “Someplace where we can lay low and figure out what to do next.” His face was pale and his eyes bloodshot. “What happened? All I know is they’re gone. We couldn’t hear their Lýra anymore. Did you see Nuala and Eden go through a sidh?”
“Nuala…” Cedar murmured. “Yes, she was on the rocks by that hut. She went into it. And then…I don’t remember.”
Finn’s mouth grew tight and he put his arm around her, drawing her close. She was too tired to resist, and leaned into him.
“I think I might be in shock,” she said.
“That doesn’t surprise me. Felix can help you once we stop.”
“Riona can turn into a bird.”
“Yes.”
“And there was a giant monster, but it helped me. What was it?”
“Uh, that was me.”
She rubbed her temples, certain she had misheard him. “That was…you?”
“I’m what you would call a shape-shifter. My mother has that ability as well. We can take the shape of any living being. One of the benefits of being a firstborn child is that we sometimes end up with more than one ability.”
Cedar shuddered at the memory.
“I’m sorry I frightened you,” Finn continued. “It’s a good form to take on when warring with creatures of the ocean. I was just trying to protect you.”
“You did,” she said, her words slurring slightly. Her head ached, and she put it into her hands. She felt untethered, like a balloon released into the sky. She wanted to hold onto something, but her thoughts kept slipping out of her grasp and floating away.
“Sleep, Cedar,” Finn said, his voice wavering. “We’ll take you somewhere safe, and we’ll figure out how to fix this.”
She closed her eyes, rested her head against his chest, and fell asleep listening to the steady beating of his heart.
Two hours later, they pulled up in front of a small cottage surrounded by thick trees. Finn gently nudged Cedar awake and they went into the cottage, where the others were already crowding into the front room. Oscar’s body was wrapped in a cloth, lying on the floor in front of a smoldering fire. Anya was hunched over it, her moans filling the room. Felix carried Molly in and set her on the sofa, placing her head in Riona’s lap. Angry red welts covered her face and arms. Felix started pulling what looked like packets of dried herbs out of the small bag he wore around his waist.
“Logheryman!” he said. “I’ll be needin’ some hot water, and a clean cloth. And some whiskey, if you’ve not drunk it all.”
Cedar looked around. Logheryman, she supposed, was the sinewy old man standing in the corner of the room, watching them all with a haughty expression. Instead of answering Felix, he walked out of the room.
“Where are we?” Cedar asked Finn.
“At the house of a friend,” Finn said. “This is like a safe house for us. Logheryman is a cousin of ours.”
“You mean he’s another Tuatha Dé Danann?”
“Not exactly. He’s a leprechaun. Our races are distantly related, but the leprechauns were permitted to stay on Ériu when our people were banished. The humans believed if you could catch a leprechaun it would make you rich, so they wanted as many around as possible to increase their chances.”
“Is it true?”
“No one’s ever caught one,” he grinned, “so who knows?” Then he grew somber again. “How are you feeling?”
“Foggy,” she said. “I just need to wake up a bit more, I think.” There was a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, a vast emptiness, as if someone had removed all her vital organs. “I feel awful about Oscar and Molly.” She looked around the room again. “Where’s Murdoch?”
“Outside, I think. Tearing down trees,” Finn answered.
“He can do that?” Cedar asked. Now that she was listening for it, she could hear crashing and breaking sounds echoing from outside the cottage.
Finn nodded.
“Can Felix do anything for Oscar?” she asked.
He looked grim. “No. Oscar was dead before he could get to him. Even Felix’s grandfather, the great healer Dian Cecht, could not bring the dead back to life.”
Logheryman came back into the room carrying a tray laden with a steaming kettle, a folded white cloth, and a half-full bottle of amber liquid. He didn’t look like he’d be that hard to catch, but by now she knew better than to make any judgments based on appearances. He placed the tray on the floor beside Felix and retreated to the other side of the room.
Just then, the door flew open with a loud crash and Murdoch burst into the room. His clothes were ripped and the palms of his hands were bleeding, but he didn’t seem to notice. He advanced on Cedar, his eyes wild. “You!” he snarled. “You did this! It’s your fault my son is dead!”
Finn stepped between Murdoch and Cedar, his hands raised and palms outward, “Murdoch, just wait—”
“I’m sick of this! I’m sick of you and your human pet always getting what you want! I told you she would cause nothing but trouble! I told you she would slow us down! If we had gotten there sooner, this wouldn’t have happened!” Spit flew from his mouth when he spoke, and Cedar cringed at the fury in his eyes. The two men were standing only inches apart, both with their fists clenched and the tendons in their necks strained and protruding.
“This isn’t her fault!” Finn protested.
“Like hell it isn’t!” Murdoch bellowed.
“It’s mine!” Finn shouted back.
“Finn, this isn’t—” Riona began, moving toward her son.
“IT IS!” he yelled, and she stopped in her tracks. “This is all my fault, everything that has happened. None of this, not Oscar or Molly or even Nuala doing what she did, none of it would have happened if I had just followed the damn rules. Eden wouldn’t even exist. It’s my fault. I accept that, and I will do whatever I can to make up for it. But I don’t regret what I did. I don’t regret being with Cedar. I’ll never be sorry Eden is alive. And part of fixing this, of making things right again, is finding her and keeping her safe.”
“It’s rather late for that now, isn’t it?” Murdoch said with a sneer.
“I don’t believe that,” Finn said. “There has to be another way to get to Tír na nÓg. There has to be a way to find her or to communicate with her somehow. Maybe she’ll escape; maybe she’ll find a way to come back. We can’t give up hope! We just have to keep trying.”
“And risk more lives? More of our children? Why is it that your child is worth so much, and mine so little?” Murdoch said, gesturing at the body by the fire. “Tell me that! You’re just fooling yourself. Lorcan’s got his hooks in her now, and she’s beyond our reach. Well, good riddance, if you ask me. That bastard child of yours has brought us nothing but trouble.”
“Don’t be stupid, man,” growled Felix, who was laying long strips of cloth over Molly’s burns. “Yer in grief, and we understand that. Oscar was like a son to many of us. But now you’re talkin’ nonsense. If Lorcan has his hooks in her as you say, then soon he’ll be doing what he’s always wanted. He’ll use her power to send his whole blasted army here and kill every man, woman, and child with human blood in ’em.”
Murdoch spat angrily. “And who would miss them? Maybe Nuala’s right. Why should we sacrifice our own children to save theirs? We need to be thinking of ourselves, protecting ourselves, not them!”
“And do you think he’ll let you live?” asked Riona angrily. “Just because you’re not human? I don’t remember him being kind to the rest of the traitors in Tír na nÓg. We’re all in the same danger. We need to stop fighting each other, and figure out how to fight Lorcan! Finn is right. There must be another way to save Eden.”
“What makes you so sure she’s still alive?” Murdoch said, staring hard at Riona.
“You know very well he can’t assimilate her ability. He couldn’t take Brogan’s power after he killed him, so he won’t dare risk killing Eden. He needs her alive, and that means we still have a chance to rescue her.” Riona turned and looked at Cedar. “I’m sorry, Cedar, this must be so upsetting for you.”
Cedar looked back at Riona, conscious that all eyes in the room were on her, but unsure of what to say. She had tried to follow the volley of conversation, but her mind was still sluggish. She felt foolish, like a child trying to join an adult conversation. Finally, she asked the only question she could think of.
“Sorry,” she said, “but who are we talking about?”
Riona looked nonplussed. “We’re talking about Eden, of course,” she replied, “about what will happen to her now.”
Cedar waited for further explanation, but Riona just sat there, looking at her expectantly. Finally, Finn spoke up.
“I was going to mention it, but I thought it might wear off. Cedar doesn’t seem to remember Eden. She said she saw Nuala go into the hut. But I think Nuala must have spoken to her and made her forget…about Eden.”
There was another silence while the group absorbed this unexpected news. Then Murdoch snorted. “Well, that makes things a bit easier then, doesn’t it? Wasn’t it you, Rohan, who wanted her to go home and stay out of this? Maybe now she will.”
“That’s enough, Muireadhach,” Rohan said from where he was standing by the window.
“No, that couldn’t have happened,” Riona said. “How could she forget Eden?” She looked at Cedar. “You don’t remember your own daughter? Not at all?”
“I don’t have a daughter,” Cedar said. She didn’t understand what they were talking about, or why Riona was having a hard time believing her.
Felix started cursing, and Molly moaned, “Oh, no, Cedar.”
“I think it’s fitting,” mumbled Anya, who still sat huddled over Oscar’s body. “We’ve lost our son, and now she’s lost her daughter.” She looked up at them all, the rage in her eyes intensified by the flickering reflection of the fire. “My husband is right. This is her fault. Maybe she got what she deserved.” No one dared argue with her, so pitiful she seemed there on the floor, hunched over her son’s dead body. She turned away from them and resumed her mourning.
The eerie sound of Anya’s keening sent a shiver up Cedar’s spine. Something was wrong, incredibly wrong. She felt disembodied, as though she were watching events unfold at a distance.
“You do have a daughter,” Finn said to her. “Our daughter. Nuala has just used her power to make you forget.”
She shook her head. “That’s ridiculous, Finn.” Her cheeks reddened. “I think I would know if I had a child. I don’t understand why you keep saying I do. Is this some kind of joke? Or another lie?”
“No!” Finn exclaimed. “You have to believe me. It’s Nuala who is the liar. She planted this in your head. But you can fight it! Think, Cedar. Why else would you be here? You flew from Halifax to New York and then to Ireland to look for Eden. That’s what all of this is about! Why would we lie about that?”
Cedar felt her hackles rise at this question. She looked up at him, incredulity spreading across her face. “Are you kidding me? You’ve done nothing but lie to me ever since we met. I’m just a human, remember? Every time I turn around I’m discovering some new piece of information you’ve withheld from me.”
“That may be, Miss Cedar, but you’re discoverin’ all the same, are you not?” Felix said. He stood up from where he had been kneeling beside Molly. “Not as fast as you’d like, I dare say, but I can tell you this for certain: you know a far sight more about us than any other human ever has or possibly ever will, save for our druid friends. And it strikes me that you might be the one withholdin’ information.”
“What?” Cedar asked. “I’m not withholding anything.”
“Whether you remember her as your daughter or not, from what Finn has told us, you were the last of us here to see Eden and Nuala,” Felix said. “I believe it might be worth your trouble, and ours, if you would tell us exactly what you remember.”
Cedar felt mutinous and was about to ask why she should tell them anything, but then she glanced at Oscar’s body on the floor, and saw Molly lying mottled on the sofa, and her anger lessened. She looked around at the faces in the room. There was so much power here, and yet every face was tinged with despair. Whatever they were up against, it was enough to cause dread among this race of gods. The room was cold, and she crossed her arms and hugged herself as she tried to remember.
“I remember the battle, and seeing Nuala. I ran down the beach. Everyone else was fighting, and I was afraid she was going to get away. She was climbing up the rocks. There was someone with her, a child. The child was screaming, fighting her. Then they went into the hut.”
“Who went in first?” Rohan asked, his voice low and urgent. “Who opened the door?”
Cedar closed her eyes, trying to reconstruct the scene in her mind. “The child, I think.”
“Did you see inside the hut?” he asked. “Did you see what it looked like?”
“There was a lot of screaming. The kid—a girl, I think—opened the door. It looked dark inside. And then they were screaming and fighting again, and I fell down into the water. I don’t know why. Then the girl opened the door again, and it was like a light had been turned on inside. It was pink. It looked like a little girl’s bedroom.”
Immediately, the air in the room lightened, as if someone had infused it with oxygen and sunshine. Riona started sobbing and laughing at the same time. Rohan looked shaky on his feet as he walked over to rest a large hand on Cedar’s shoulder. “Okay,” was all he said, nodding at her. “Okay.”
Cedar looked around in bewilderment. Molly, whose burns were rapidly healing, stood up and hugged her. “We still have a chance then. She’s still here,” she said.
Cedar looked at Finn for an explanation. His eyes were bright and his arms trembled slightly as he followed his sister’s lead and wrapped Cedar in a tight hug. She pushed him away and stood back, glaring at him with suspicion. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“What you saw, that’s not Tír na nÓg,” he said. “I don’t know why it didn’t work, but there’s nothing that looks like a human girl’s bedroom in Tír na nÓg. It was probably Eden’s room. Is it pink?”
“How would I know what her room looks like?” Cedar protested.
“It is pink,” Molly said. “I saw it when we were there the other day.”
“Then we should go. Now!” Riona said. “She might still be there!”
Rohan looked at Murdoch, as if he were trying to gauge the other man’s state of mind. Murdoch held his gaze, his internal struggle written on his face. Then he nodded and said, “I’ll call Nevan. I’ll tell her to take Sam and Dermot and get over to Cedar’s apartment as soon as they can.”
Logheryman, who had been standing silently by the front door, cleared his throat. When he spoke, it was with the voice of a much younger man, almost a boy, and Cedar wondered if his voice or his appearance reflected his true age, or neither.
“Forgive the intrusion,” he said, “but I believe I may be able to offer you some assistance.” He waited for a response, and when there was none, he continued.
“My limited understanding of your situation leads me to believe that the sooner you return to your, er, temporary home, the better. Am I correct in this assessment?”
“Spit it out, ye damn leprechaun,” Felix growled.
Logheryman folded his weathered hands and inclined his head toward Felix. “As you wish. I happen to have in my possession several pairs of thousand league boots, which I would be pleased to loan you for a brief and specified period of time. You may find them useful in catching up to your quarry, who always appears to be a few steps ahead of you.”
“And what’s yer price?” Felix demanded.
Logheryman shrugged as if payment was but an afterthought. “What does any self-respecting leprechaun want?” he asked in his unnaturally high voice. “Gold.”
Rohan stepped forward. “We don’t have gold,” he said. “Something you know very well.”
Again, the leprechaun shrugged. “You may not have it on your person,” he conceded, “but it is well known that the Tuatha Dé Danann had access to vast amounts of wealth hidden on Ériu during the centuries in which they still counted kings and queens among their friends. You need not trouble yourselves by fetching the gold for me. All I ask is that you show me where those stores are, and the boots are yours. That is, unless you would rather enjoy the hospitality of British Airways and arrive back home, mmm, sometime tomorrow afternoon?”
Rohan looked like he wanted a third option that involved wrapping his hands around the leprechaun’s neck.
“A moment, please,” he said to Logheryman. He stalked off into the kitchen, and the rest of the Tuatha Dé Danann followed him as if by some secret signal. Not sure what do to, Cedar hung behind. The leprechaun smirked at her.
“This, my dear, is why I deal with the Tuatha Dé Danann but rarely. You always know where you stand with them.” He gave her a significant look. “Beneath.”
“So how do these boots work?” Cedar asked, trying to change the subject. She didn’t need to be reminded of her status among the Danann.
“They work rather splendidly, if I do say so myself. Slip them on your feet and you can travel a thousand leagues in a single step.”
“How far is that?” Cedar asked. She wasn’t trying to be cheeky, but the leprechaun seemed to take it that way. He rolled his eyes.
“About three thousand miles, if you must think in such mundane terms. But this is magic, my dear, not geography. And it’s also a one-time offer. I’ll tell the boots where to go, and that’s where they’ll take you. Once you arrive, they will become ordinary boots until they are returned to me. The magic does not reside in the shoe, you see, but in the shoemaker.”
The others returned from the kitchen and Rohan said, “All right, Logheryman. We’ll direct you to a store of gold in return for the use of these boots, provided you can ready them immediately.”
“Mmm.” Logheryman put a finger to his lips. “One store of gold will get you precisely one pair of boots.”
“There are nine of us, in case you haven’t noticed, not that I expect you know how to count,” snapped Murdoch. “You think you need nine stores of gold?” He looked around the cramped, dingy cottage. “What would you even do with it?”
“I hate to be the one to point this out, but there are now only eight of you. And what I do with my gold is no one’s business but my own,” Logheryman replied, seemingly unperturbed. He looked at Cedar and winked. “Perhaps I have a great dragon in the cellar that sits on it and keeps it warm.”
“I’ve been in your cellar and there’s nought there but cobwebs and whiskey,” Murdoch said. He turned to Rohan. “Even if we do make this bargain, who’s to say the boots won’t end up drowning us in the middle of the Atlantic?”
“We accept,” Rohan said to Logheryman. “Finn, Murdoch, Anya, and I will take the boots and travel back to Halifax that way.” He held up a hand to stop Logheryman’s inevitable question. “Yes, that means we will direct you to four stores of gold. Riona, you stay with Molly and Cedar and catch the next flight you can find.”
“Wait. Cedar comes with us,” Finn said.
“We don’t have time to argue about this,” Rohan said. “We need to get our best warriors after Nuala, and she’s not one of them.”
“It’s fine, I really don’t mind waiting,” Cedar said.
“I’m not letting her out of my sight,” Finn argued. “We don’t know what else Nuala may have told her to do. If I leave her…”
“I’ll stay,” came Anya’s voice from the back. “I’m not much use for fighting right now. Besides, I want to bury him here, in the old country.”
Rohan glared at Finn, but nodded curtly after a moment. “So be it. Logheryman, bring us the boots,” he demanded.
“Not quite yet. I have one other minor condition,” Logheryman said.
Rohan stiffened but said nothing, waiting.
“It’s a delicate matter, of course, because I do not wish to imply that the Tuatha Dé Danann could ever be duplicitous in their dealings with lesser folk. However, it would put my mind at ease if you would make use of the goblet of Manannan mac Lir while sealing this agreement. Am I correct in assuming it is in your possession even as we speak?” Logheryman raised a grizzled eyebrow at Rohan.
Cedar had no idea what the goblet of Manannan mac Lir was, but she could sense the Tuatha Dé Danann’s offense.
“You doubt my word, leprechaun?” Rohan’s voice was low and icy.
Logheryman didn’t seem threatened. “Not at all, Rohan Donnelly,” he said, stressing Rohan’s human name. “I simply prefer to do business this way.”
Rohan gave the leprechaun a stony look, but then pulled something out of an inner pocket of his coat. It was a small, plain silver goblet that looked more like a child’s toy than anything an ancient being would use to seal contracts.
“You have maps, I presume?” Rohan asked Logheryman.
“Old and new,” Logheryman chirped. He stepped out of the room and Cedar could hear his footsteps going down the stairs to the cellar.
While he was gone, Cedar turned to Felix and asked, “Does anyone in your world ever help anyone else just for the sake of it?”
Felix made a face. “A fair question, Miss Cedar, and the fair answer would be no. Now I’ve a question for you. I reckon I’d be in my rights to say yer unfamiliar with the goblet of Manannan mac Lir, yes?”
“Shocking, I know,” Cedar answered dryly, “but yes, you’re right. What does it do?”
“Tells the truth,” he said. “Or, rather, it tells if you’re telling the truth. Watch.” He took the goblet from Rohan and said, “My given name is Felix Dockendorff.” Instantly, the goblet shattered and fell in clattering pieces onto the floor. Cedar gasped and took a step back.
“Told a lie, then, didn’t I?” Felix said. “Now we’ll try for the truth. My given name is Toirdhealbhach MacDail re Deachai.”
Cedar watched in amazement as the shards on the floor reformed themselves into the goblet. Felix picked it up and handed it to her. She ran her hands around it. There was no evidence it had been lying in pieces only moments ago.
“Now you try it,” Felix said, watching her carefully. “Tell the goblet you’ve not got a daughter.”
Cedar stared at him, then down at the goblet. She felt her pulse quicken. What if this small cup in her hands confirmed what everyone had been saying? What if they were right, and she did have a daughter she couldn’t remember? She shuddered. She felt as though she were being played somehow. But if they were right, if she couldn’t even trust her own memories, it would mean she couldn’t trust herself. And then she would have no one.
She handed the cup back to Felix, shaking her head. “I can’t.”
“I’ll do it.” Finn strode over to them and took the cup from Felix. Before Cedar could protest, he said, “Cedar McLeod does not have a child.”
The cup shattered and fell to the floor in pieces.
Cedar watched them fall as if in slow motion. She heard them clatter as they hit the floor, but felt strangely removed from the sound. Without knowing why, she bent down and picked up the shards, turning them over in her hands, examining each one as though it might dissolve into powder if she held it too tightly. She cupped her hands in front of her and whispered into them, “I have a daughter.” Then she handed the perfectly whole goblet back to Finn and, without looking at him, walked out of the room.