CHAPTER EIGHT
Cedar stood perfectly still, unable to move. Since Eden’s disappearance, she had almost forgotten that she had been trying to find Finn, and now here he was, standing not ten feet away from her. She felt blood rush to her cheeks. Her body started to tremble, and for a few panicked moments she thought she had forgotten how to breathe. Then her lungs remembered and her heart started pounding, hard and fast, as if it were trying to escape the confines of her chest and leap across the room.
Finn was ignoring Felix’s question and staring at Cedar. His face hadn’t changed since the last time she saw him, only now it was filled with longing. His eyes bore into hers so intensely she had to look away. Cedar had imagined this scene a thousand times in a thousand different ways. She had imagined running into him on the street, or answering the door to find him standing there, or seeing him across a crowded art gallery in a foreign city. She had imagined what she would say to him—she would tell him how much she loved him and how sorry she was for whatever she had done to make him leave, and she would beg him for an explanation, for a chance to make things right.
But it had been years since she’d given up hope of ever seeing him again. Longing had turned into anger; despair into resolve. Life had turned into survival. Now, she had no idea what to say to him.
“They told me about Eden,” he said, his voice a whisper. “I came to help. I got here as soon as I could. Cedar…I’m so sorry.”
When she still said nothing, Finn looked at his father and said, “What are you doing? Why are you sending her away? She needs to know what’s going on.”
Rohan looked affronted. “Fionnbharr, this isn’t—”
“You don’t think I get a say in all of this?” Finn said. His cheeks flushed, and his eyes flashed. “Cedar is Eden’s mother. She needs to know the truth.”
Rohan crossed the floor to his son. “You don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand?” Finn interrupted. His voice cracked through the room like a whip. “Who here understands her better than I do? My daughter has been taken, and Cedar needs to know why.”
Perhaps it was the way he said the word my, or maybe it was his assumption that he understood her, but Cedar felt as though someone had thrown a switch inside her. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears and found her feet moving toward him. His face softened, and then tensed in confusion as she crossed the room. Her palm hit his cheek with a resounding smack, and she felt the pain of it shoot up her arm. When she spoke, even she was surprised by the hostility in her voice.
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t call her your daughter. You think you understand me? You think I’m still the same person you left?” She felt hot, angry tears prick her eyes and struggled to hold them back. “Don’t you dare call yourself her father.”
Finn’s face twisted in agony. “Cedar,” he whispered, the softness of his voice a sharp contrast to hers. “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know about her.”
“And whose fault is that?” she demanded hotly. “I tried to tell you. I tried to find you. Seven years of nothing. I didn’t even know if you were still alive.”
“It was for the best,” he pleaded. “I can explain everything. I’m sorry, and you’re right, I don’t know what you’ve been through, but trust me—it would have been worse if I had stayed.”
“Trust you?” Cedar screamed, and then laughed sardonically. She was starting to feel quite hysterical. “Why would I trust you, Finn? You left me with nothing!”
“You had Eden,” he said quietly. “She wasn’t nothing.”
“AND NOW SHE’S GONE!”
Cedar swayed on her feet, suddenly exhausted beyond belief. Someone placed a barstool under her and she sat down hard, and then promptly burst into tears. Riona and Nevan rushed over to her, but she hid her face in her hands and turned away from them. She felt so completely overwhelmed, so desperately alone in this room of strangers. She felt ashamed of her outburst, startled by the intensity of her anger. This was not the reunion she had dreamed of.
The awkward silence, punctuated only by her sobs and gasps for air, was finally interrupted by Murdoch, who said, “Enough of this nonsense. We’ve got to get on with it. Finn, why don’t you take your girlfriend home, sort things out, and then meet us back here.”
Finn seemed shaky on his feet too, but his voice was firm when he answered, “I’m not taking her anywhere until she’s had some answers. And then it’s up to her if she wants to go home or stay with us.”
“Look at her, man!” Murdoch said, his face incredulous. “She’s a bloody wreck! She’ll only slow us down, and we don’t have time to waste!”
“I agree with Finn,” said a perky voice that belonged to Finn’s sister, Molly. “It should be her decision!”
“This is bigger than just her,” argued Anya. “We need to do what’s best for us.”
“But what if she can help?” Nevan asked.
“No, it’s too risky,” Anya shot back.
“Stop it!” Finn bellowed, throwing his words into the melee like a grenade. Everyone stopped talking and looked at him. “What’s the matter with all of you?” he asked, seeming genuinely bewildered. “Have you learned nothing about humans in all this time?”
Rohan cleared his throat loudly, and Cedar looked up, her face a mess of tears and her nose running. Felix handed her some napkins and she started wiping her face, keeping her eyes on Finn’s father. He was gazing at Finn with a peculiar expression. “Murdoch is right,” he said. “We don’t have time for this, and there are certain things that are only for us to know for the time being.”
Finn started to protest, but Rohan raised his hand and Finn kept silent, although the look on his face was mutinous.
“However,” Rohan continued, “there is a new element to consider now.” He looked pointedly at Finn, as if to say he was this new element. “She can stay if she wants, but she is entirely your responsibility. And if this unfinished business between the two of you starts getting in the way, it will only make it more difficult for us to locate your daughter. Do I make myself clear?”
Finn nodded, and Rohan looked at Cedar.
She hesitated, and then nodded as well.
Several glances were shared around the room, and then Rohan said, “Now, could I speak to you in private, son?” and the two of them stalked off into the kitchen.
Felix refilled Cedar’s coffee and handed it to her with a sympathetic smile.
“Quite a shock then, seeing him again?”
She let out the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. “You could say that.”
“Well, none of us have seen him in a long time, either,” Felix said. “But it will be good to have him back, to be sure. I know you think he did you wrong, but he’s a good man, young Finn is, and I’ve known him since he was a babe. He’s not got a bad bone in him. Whatever he did, he had a good reason for it.”
Cedar raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She sat in silence, half-listening to the whispers and muted conversations around her. Finally, the two Donnellys emerged from the kitchen, both looking grim. Finn walked away from Rohan and slowly approached her, as if he was afraid she might spook and run if he came up too fast.
“I know you probably don’t want to talk to me,” he said, “but I can give you some answers if you’ll listen.”
Cedar looked at him standing there, so forlorn and yet so heartbreakingly beautiful, like a lost angel. She could feel her body responding to his closeness, even though he was standing three feet away, and she cursed the sudden warmth that flooded her veins.
“Yes, I want answers,” she said. “Starting with who, or what, you people are.”
“Do you remember when we were together, and I used to bring home books from the library about the Tuatha Dé Danann? Sometimes I would read some of the stories to you,” Finn asked, looking hesitant.
She nodded slowly.
“You said you had read some of the stories before, in a book of your mother’s you found as a child,” he continued.
“Yes, but why? Are you saying…”
“I am one of the Tuatha Dé Danann. We all are.”
There was a prolonged silence as Cedar stared at him, and everyone else stared at her, waiting for her reaction.
“You’re telling me that you are a…Celtic god? Because that’s…kind of crazy.”
“It’s the truth,” Riona said. “I know it’s hard to believe, but think about what you’ve seen and what Eden can do. Think about the staircase and what Nevan showed you she can do.”
Cedar looked into Riona’s somber, dark brown eyes. She certainly didn’t seem delusional. There were so many of them here, watching her with a quiet confidence. She thought of everything she had seen over the past couple of days and willed herself to keep an open mind. Logical explanations are not the only option anymore, she thought.
“Okay,” she said, trying to remember what she had read. It had been a long time ago. “So if you’re the Tuatha Dé Danann, why are you here? Didn’t they all go back to the land of Tír na nÓg?” Cedar tried to remember some of the stories she had read as a child. The Tuatha Dé Danann had ruled Ireland before the coming of the Celts, but had lost a great battle and had been relegated to Tír na nÓg, the Otherworld. Over the centuries, the Tuatha Dé Danann had developed into the “little folk” of Irish folklore.
“We did.” It was Nevan who spoke this time. She had perched herself on a stool beside Cedar and was watching her intently. “You remember well. We used to live here, on Ériu, what you call earth. But then we were defeated by the humans. We were forced to leave and make our home in the Otherworld. But it wasn’t so bad,” she said with a small smile. “Tír na nÓg is indescribably beautiful, and we could visit Ériu by using the sidhe. Some of us spent quite a lot of time here, for a while.”
“What do you mean, for a while?” Cedar asked. “You’re here now.”
“It’s been a long time since our people have made regular visits here,” Finn answered. His face darkened, and he glanced at his father, as if he was asking for permission to continue. His father’s expression was carefully guarded, but he nodded slightly.
“There was a war in Tír na nÓg, and our side lost,” Finn explained. “Those of us who survived escaped here. We were looking for help, and a chance to rebuild.”
“Okay, so you’re, um, ancient Celtic gods, but you’re here, pretending to be humans,” Cedar said, hearing how ridiculous her own words sounded. She wished Jane were with her.
“We’re not gods,” Riona said softly, “although we were once worshipped as such. We’re a different race, you might say. And, yes, we’ve been trying to blend in.”
Across the room, Molly grinned at her. “They say we’re fairies now!” she said, putting her hands behind her back and flapping them like wings. Rohan shot her a look, and she dropped her hands back down to her sides, the grin sliding off her face.
Fairies, Cedar thought. Eden would like that. “What does this have to do with Eden?” she asked. “The thing she can do with the doors, is that because she’s one of you, because she’s half Tuatha Dé Danann?” Cedar forced herself to look at Finn, who looked nervous but nodded silently. At least she had her answer to that question. Only now she had about a thousand more.
“And Nuala?” she asked, turning to look at Rohan. “You said she put a spell on Jane. Is she a witch? Can you all do magic?”
“We are not witches and wizards, or fairies. This isn’t some child’s game,” Rohan said.
“I didn’t say—” Cedar started, but Riona interrupted.
“I suppose you might call it magic,” she said. “But we’re all different in our abilities. Nuala has a very rare gift. She has the ability of persuasion, let’s call it. Even when she’s not trying, she exudes a sort of charm that makes people trust her and want to do what she says. But her ability can be very, very powerful when she taps into a deep emotion or desire inside the person she is trying to persuade.” She paused, searching for the right words to explain it. “She’s like a very good salesman, in a sense, or a fortune teller. They’re experts at reading people, at figuring out what they really want to hear. Nuala’s gift is more than just good instincts, however. She can see inside a person and know his or her true heart. And that, combined with her gift of persuasion, means she can convince anyone to do almost anything, as long as there is a tiny kernel of desire inside that person, even if they don’t admit to it to themselves. She just needs the tiniest of hooks, and she’s got you.”
“That sounds horrible,” Cedar said.
Riona looked sad. “It is not a gift I would wish for myself or my children, no. Life has not been easy for Nuala because of it.”
“So that’s how she convinced Jane to forget what had happened—because Jane didn’t want to be there in the first place,” Cedar said.
Riona nodded. “More than that, she didn’t want you to know what had happened, that she had been neglecting Eden. Her guilt was the only hook Nuala needed. But once Jane knew she was forgiven, everything came back to her.”
Cedar could tell that the others in the room were getting restless. A few of them were huddled together, whispering. Even Nevan kept glancing toward the door. But Cedar didn’t want to stop asking questions, not now that she was finally getting some answers.
“So why did Nuala take Eden? Why does she want her ability?” she asked.
Finn glanced uncertainly at his father, and Cedar wished he would stop doing that. It made her think he wasn’t telling her everything. “We’re not sure, but we think she might want Eden to open a sidh back to Tír na nÓg, so she can return.”
“Why would she need Eden? If she wants to go back, can’t she just go the same way you came?”
“That way is closed,” Finn said. “Lorcan, who rules Tír na nÓg now, was tracking us. He was on our heels, and we couldn’t risk him following us through. So my father sealed the sidh we traveled through, and it was the last one, in either direction. Eden is the only one among us with the ability to open the sidhe.”
Cedar pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to keep everything straight. “So Rohan can seal a sidh, but none of you can create one? Then who made the one you came through?”
“He’s dead,” Rohan said.
Cedar waited, in the hopes of more information, but Rohan’s face told her the subject was closed. “And if Eden opens the sidh to Tír na nÓg, Nuala will let her go?”
At this, Finn’s body became very still. Cedar glanced at him and frowned. Finally, Rohan answered, “We don’t know.”
Cedar felt this sink in, slowly, painfully, like a boulder gradually settling to the bottom of her stomach.
“Now perhaps you can answer some questions for us,” Rohan said. “You told us last night that Eden can’t open a sidh to a place she hasn’t seen before. Correct?”
Cedar nodded, the stone in her stomach lightening slightly. “I think so. I mean, we only tried it once, but it didn’t seem to work.” She looked at Finn. “She thought she’d be able to find you. She wanted to go wherever you were, but we didn’t know where that was.” She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling oddly relieved. Eden was still missing, but at least she was still in this world, her world. She wasn’t out of reach—not yet.
Finn, seeming to sense her thoughts, reached out to touch her hand, but she withdrew it. “I’m sure she’s okay,” he said. “Nuala needs Eden. She’ll be sure to keep her safe.”
“Will Nuala put a spell on her like she did with Jane?” Cedar asked.
“She might try, but I don’t think it will work,” Finn answered. “My father and I both share part of Eden’s gift—we can close but not open the sidhe. It makes us immune to the rest of the Tuatha Dé Danann. It’s both good and bad, I suppose. Nuala cannot persuade us, and that’s a good thing. And we can often help break Nuala’s spells on others, as my father did with your friend. On the other hand, Nevan can’t communicate with us. Sam makes the most extraordinary music, but we can’t hear it. We’re just…closed. Murdoch’s daggers can still stick us, though. We’re only immune to the abilities that affect the mind or heart. But it does mean that Nuala won’t be able to control Eden that way.”
“Is it normal that Eden can both open and close the sidhe?” Cedar asked.
Rohan answered, his voice brusque and impatient. “I think that’s enough questions for now,” he said, breaking away from them abruptly to exchange words with Dermot and Anya.
Cedar turned back to her coffee, trying to make sense of this new reality while painfully aware of Finn’s silent gaze on her back. He had returned, as she had always hoped he would, but he wasn’t who she thought he was. He was a…she didn’t even know what to call him. A god? A superhero? She thought of Zeus and Thor and all the other myths she’d heard and wondered if they were real too. She felt beyond stupid. She had been closer to him than she had ever been to anyone else in the world, and yet she had suspected nothing. Nothing. And now she was caught up in this world where, despite her protests, she knew she did not belong. She glanced at Finn over her shoulder, and he gave her a tentative smile. She looked away. She had to stay focused on finding Eden, no distractions.
“Okay, listen up,” Rohan was saying in a loud voice. “Now that Miss McLeod here has had her history lesson, we can get on with finding the child.”
“What’s the plan?” Nevan asked. “We’ve already looked everywhere for Nuala, and all our allies have been alerted.”
“Wait,” Sam said. “We’ve been going about it the wrong way. We’ve been looking for Nuala, but we should be looking for what she’s looking for.”
Nevan scrunched up her nose, which made her look like a pixie more than ever. “What do you mean? What is she looking—ohh,” she let out her breath.
“What? What is she looking for?” Cedar asked, confused.
“Of course! You said it yourself, Cedar. See, I told you she would be helpful!” Nevan said. “Eden can’t open the sidh to Tír na nÓg unless she knows what Tír na nÓg looks like! Nuala’s not stupid—she’ll figure that out pretty quick, or Eden will tell her herself. So she’ll be looking for a picture or some kind of depiction of Tír na nÓg. Right?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Anya said with a scowl. “How could she do that? No one knows what Tír na nÓg looks like except for us, and there aren’t any pictures of it.”
“You might be right, Anya,” Riona said. “At least, I haven’t seen any. Has anyone else?”
They all shook their heads. “We can’t rule it out, though,” said Dermot, who had come to stand beside Finn. “I mean, just because we haven’t seen them doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Our people have been interacting with humans for centuries. Maybe someone else left something here, a photograph or a drawing. Would that work? A drawing?”
Cedar shook her head. “I don’t know. The only things that worked were photographs—a wall calendar, actually—and images she saw on TV. I tried drawing a sketch for her of a place in Vancouver, but it didn’t work. I think it would have to be a photograph, or pretty close to it.”
“The kid’s got a point,” said Felix, who still stood behind the bar. “Here’s my question: is that ginger-haired bitch just lookin’ for a photograph or drawing, or is there some other way she could show the wee girl what the place looks like?”
“Don’t call her that,” growled Murdoch. “We still don’t know for sure she’s got anything to do with this. And even if she did, you can’t fault her for wanting to go home.”
Felix cleared his throat. “Fine. If it’ll make you shut yer mouth, I’ll rephrase my question. Is Nuala looking for a picture, or is there some other way?”
“I could show her,” Nevan whispered, a worried look on her face. Everyone looked at her.
“I could put an image of Tír na nÓg into Eden’s mind. It’s been over thirty years since I’ve seen it, but I can still see every leaf. Do you think Nuala has thought of that? What if she forces me to show Eden?”
Cedar was surprised by Nevan’s words. She didn’t look a day older than eighteen. How could she have been in Tír na nÓg thirty years ago, and have a clear memory of it?
“But you’ve tried to contact Eden, and it didn’t work,” Riona said reassuringly. “Her mind is closed to you, just like Rohan’s and Finn’s are.” Nevan nodded, but the crease between her eyebrows remained.
“I have an idea,” Finn continued. The others looked at him expectantly. He cleared his throat nervously. “What about Brighid?” he said.
Cedar didn’t know who Brighid was, but apparently everyone else did, judging by their response. Molly smiled and said, “Ooo, yes!” while Felix snorted and Sam, who had been rubbing Nevan’s neck, looked up and said, “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Look, I know she’s chosen a different path than we have,” Finn said, “but that’s why we should talk to her. Maybe she knows something we don’t or can at least point us in the right direction.”
“Who is Brighid?” Cedar asked.
“You know, Saint Brigit!” Molly said, giggling.
“What?” Cedar asked, confused. Riona gave her daughter a smile. “I don’t think Cedar is Catholic, dear.” Then she turned to Cedar. “Brighid is one of us, a Tuatha Dé Danann. She is one of our Elders, one of the first who came to this world. However, she chose to leave Tír na nÓg many years ago; I think it was around the fifth century of your time. She said she preferred the company of humans to the company of gods. And she’s lived here ever since, under various guises, of course, including a saint,” she said, glancing at Molly. “We don’t have much to do with her, however. She prefers not to involve herself in our affairs.”
“Wait, she’s how old? Don’t your people…die?” Cedar asked, looking at Finn.
“We do,” he said. “But not of old age. We can be killed by violence. We don’t age, not physically, once we reach maturity. We stay that way forever.”
“But…” Cedar looked back at Felix, with his grizzled white beard and toothy grin.
He laughed, showing his gold teeth. “I’m a healer by nature, but I can also whip up a right nice aging brew for those of us who want to blend in. I’m actually as young and virile as yer man Finn, here, and twice as charming,” he said with wink.
Rohan interrupted. “Enough questions, I said. Finn, go ahead and call Brighid.”
“Speaking of charming,” Murdoch muttered.
Finn blushed and gave Murdoch a dirty look. “She was fond of me for a while,” he said to Cedar. “But nothing ever happened between us. She knew my heart belonged to someone else.” Their eyes met for a heartbeat before he looked back at the group. “I’ll give her a call. I’m sure she’ll be willing to help.”
Finn disappeared into the kitchen and they all sat in silence, waiting. A few minutes later, he came back out, looking nervous.
“Well?” Murdoch demanded.
“She says she’ll tell us what she knows about depictions of Tír na nÓg. She wouldn’t say more on the phone, but it sounds like one exists and she knows where it is.” He hesitated and looked at Cedar. “She wants me to go see her in New York. And she wants me to take Cedar with me.”
“Why me?” she asked.
Finn’s cheeks reddened, but he held her gaze. “She says she wants to meet the woman who nearly drove me mad.”
Blood streamed down Maeve’s arms and dripped off her elbows. She ran her hand through her hair distractedly, leaving red streaks in the disheveled gray. The butchered remains of a cat lay on the floor in front of her. She was in the small workshop in the front yard of her house in the country, just outside the tiny town of Chester. It was the home Cedar had grown up in, and though Maeve had an apartment in the city so she could be close to her daughter and granddaughter, she still kept the country home for weekend getaways—and for the memories it held.
Maeve picked at the entrails, moving them around the floor for the dozenth time, examining them as she consulted faded charts and diagrams stained with bloody fingerprints. She shuddered, not at the gruesome display in front of her, but at the thought that she might fail, that she might not find Eden in time. Like a lamb to the slaughter, she thought, looking into the cat’s sightless eyes. Then she shook her head sharply. She needed to stay calm, to think clearly. She breathed deeply, trying to push her fear down, but it clung to her like a desperate lover. Nothing she tried was working as it should. She shuddered again and rolled a strand of cat intestine between her fingers, wondering what on earth she could try next.
Cedar’s betrayal had cut her like a knife, but she had not been entirely surprised. Despite all Maeve’s warnings, Cedar had loved Finn with all her heart, and she loved him still. Maeve could see the anguish of it on her face whenever anyone said his name. Cedar had chosen him once, and now she was choosing his people over her own mother, even though she had only known them for a day.
“You’re not one of them, Cedar, and if you have to learn your lesson twice, so be it,” Maeve muttered. And maybe there would be a silver lining to all this. If Cedar was with them, she could keep Maeve informed about their movements, helping her stay one step ahead of them.
She looked at what remained of the cat and sighed. She had not used her skills as a druid for many years, and she had grown rusty. The Ogham sticks had told her nothing about Eden’s whereabouts, nor had the runes. She had spent the entire night in the woods surrounding her country house, communing with the earth and the trees, begging them to speak to her, to help her find the child. Silence had been the only response.
She cursed herself for not anticipating this, for not doing more to keep Cedar and Eden away from these people. Nevertheless, Cedar had made her choice, and now it was up to Maeve. She had to find the girl, and find her before they did. And then she had to discover a way to protect her from them—forever.