“Faerie blood?” The world was spinning around Caitlin, and she clung to the only thing that seemed real: Brendan.
“Aye,” Brendan said. “I sme— sensed it on you earlier, but I just passed it off as lingering fae magic from the oíche.”
Closing her eyes, Caitlin focused and the spinning slowed. “So, what does that mean? I’m not—” She stumbled, as if her mouth didn’t want to say the words. “I’m not human?”
“Not mortal is a truer way of saying it. But even that’s not entirely true.”
Caitlin opened her eyes as she felt Brendan pull back. She searched his blue eyes for comfort or something to make her life normal again. It wasn’t there.
“You’re still you.” His words were soft. “You’re still the same person you was before. This doesn’t change nothing.”
“Doesn’t change—” She stared at him. “Are you kidding me? How can this not change everything?”
“I mean, it doesn’t change who you are. You’re still—”
“Could that be why they took Fiona? I mean, if I’m a—” Again, her mouth struggled with the words. “Changeling. If I’m a changeling, she is too, right?”
“It might at that,” Brendan said. “She might be, and if she is, like as not that was the reason they picked her.”
While there was some sick sense of comfort in finally knowing why, she still felt the rancid touch of guilt. “Does that mean I’m not Caitlin Brady?”
“What?”
“Was I left behind when the real one was taken?” Caitlin’s heart stuttered.
“No.”
The reply brought truckloads of relief, but then she considered the alternative and felt cold again. She wracked her brain, thinking who in her family could’ve been fae. The problem, of course, was that she didn’t know much of her family.
“Come on.” Brendan led her back to the truck. “Let’s get you sat down.”
Question upon question unfolded in her mind. Did Nana know? Was that why she’d told her all those stories?
Brendan helped Caitlin into the passenger seat and closed the door. She was only dimly aware of him getting in the other side. The engine started, and soon they were moving again.
Caitlin let the gentle breeze blow over her face as her breathing returned to normal.
“You still with me, love?”
Brendan’s voice seemed to be more real now, as if her whole life up until now had been some kind of dream and she was just now waking up. “I’m just trying to get a handle on all the thoughts in my head.”
“I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s really not as important as all that.”
She knew he was lying, but she decided to take refuge in the lie rather than calling him on it. “How many are there?”
“Changelings, you mean?” Brendan considered the question for a moment. “Well, it’s not that they’d make a large collection, but it actually isn’t that uncommon. I’d say odds are anyone with Irish, Scots, Manx, or even Welsh blood has some fae mixed in there as well. Even the Nordics dealt with the fae.”
“Really?” Caitlin asked. It sounded like he was telling the truth, but something didn’t mesh. “You’re leaving something out.”
His expression told her that her instinct was right.
“Damnú air!” He punched the steering wheel. “Never any use at cards either,” he muttered.
“Just tell me. I can handle it.” She braced for the worst.
“Oh, aye, I can see that. Sound job you’re doing so far.” He glanced at her, but her glare made him turn away. “I’m just saying you’ll take it arseways.”
“Brendan, please, tell me.”
He sighed. “It’s true plenty out there have fae somewhere in their family tree. But the blood loses its potency after a generation or two.”
He looked at her, probably judging her reaction. She could see where this was going.
“After that, they wouldn’t have no sign.”
“Like being able to find four-leaf clovers like they were grains of sand?” She didn’t need to see him nod.
“Those are few and far between.”
She swallowed. That meant it was one of six people; her mother, her father, or one of her grandparents.
“Jesus, love, it ain’t cancer.” Brendan laughed. “You’d like as not never have known if I hadn’t just done that.”
“I just need to get my head around this. Okay?”
“Aye.” He shrugged. “But it’s really not as bad as all that.”
“Even so,” she said. “It’s kind of a lot to take all in one day.”
“Aye, fair play that, I suppose.” He paused for moment. “But there is something you should know. A changeling has to make a choice. Either they choose the fae side, or they choose the mortal.”
“What’s that mean?”
“They have to decide which they want to be. If they choose the fae, then they show signs. They stop aging around adulthood, or younger. They might get points to their ears, things like that.”
“And if they choose mortal?”
“They grow up like anyone else. You get little hints of it, like finding four-leaf clovers and seeing through glamours.”
“And seeing faeries,” she said.
“Aye, that as well.”
“But I didn’t choose.”
“You weren’t aware of the choice,” he said. “You thought you were mortal and grew up as one. You made your decision without ever being aware of it.” He gave her a quick glance.
“What?”
He let out a breath. “Well, crossing into the Tír might affect you strangely.”
She sighed. “Of course it could.”
“I can’t say how, because I don’t know. It’ll work to our favor though. I was worried how we’d handle crossing with you as a mortal. It’s not a place friendly to such, but that’s not a problem now.”
She answered mechanically as her mind began to work. “That’s something, I suppose.”
So Brendan, you’re not mortal? What are you then? she thought.
They drove in silence, and Caitlin was left to wonder about how all this would affect Fiona if—no, when—Caitlin got her back. She would find a way to use it to Fiona’s advantage. A thought came to her, and instead of considering it, she pushed it aside . . . well, she tried.
What if her faerie blood was Dusk Court?
The minutes crawled by, and the road unfolded before them at the same lagging pace. They drove, winding back and forth between trees nearing the peak of their change. The approaching sunset turned the sky to painted flames, almost as if it was trying to outdo the trees. Caitlin’s whole world had changed, yet the rest of the world was exactly the same.
Anger flared in her heart. How dare she spend a moment wallowing in this when her child was out there? And how much farther did they have to go?
Brendan apparently read her mind. “About an hour or so to go still, I’m afraid. And we have to make a quick detour as well.”
Caitlin mumbled a complaint under her breath.
Brendan turned off the country highway and down a local road.
“Where are we?” Caitlin asked. It was clear they were well off the beaten path.
“The detour.” Brendan turned into the dirt parking lot of a small general store. “Look, love. I didn’t mean to downplay it all to you back there.”
Caitlin didn’t look at him. She didn’t want to think on it anymore. Why couldn’t he just let her be?
“Is it the realization, or the fact that someone in your family was untrue to you, that’s nibbling at you?”
She gave him a withering glare but didn’t answer.
“If it’s the second, there’s something you should be considering. The one you get your blood from might’ve been trying to spare you. Or maybe they just never got the chance to tell you.”
Her eyes went wide in realization.
“What is it?”
Closing her eyes, she focused on the few memories she had of her father and tried to picture him in her head.
One by one, the pieces fell together.
How could she not have seen it before? That was why her mother had always looked so heartbroken when Caitlin had asked about him or about his illness, and why her mother had never wanted her to hear Nana’s stories.
“I think it was my father.”
“What happened to him, then?”
“When I was really little, he got sick.” The scent of the hospital came back to her. She still hated that smell and questioned the psychology of tormenting herself with it every day.
“He died. That’s why I became a nurse.” She shook her head. “Wait, can faeries even get sick?”
“Not in the sense you think of, no. But if he was called by one of the courts and didn’t answer? Well, the longer he resisted the call, the weaker he’d get. That’d be easy to mistake for sickness.”
“He didn’t want to leave Mom.” Caitlin could see her mother sitting at her father’s bedside, his hand in hers. A couple of tears rolled down Caitlin’s cheek, and she wiped them away.
Brendan sat in silence.
“Nana’s stories must’ve been too painful for Mom to hear. They reminded her of Dad. Which means they all knew.” Caitlin closed her eyes and had clear memories of her father for the first time in a very long time. Sitting in his lap and looking into his radiant blue eyes, eyes just like Dante’s.
“I can remember him.” Caitlin smiled as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. “He’d sing to me.” A sob escaped as the sound of his voice came back to her. “I remember he was almost enchanting in the way—” Her smile vanished.
“Mo mhallacht ort.” Brendan looked away from her.
“He’d enchant you with his music. Never a whole gallery full of people, but—”
“I know where your mind’s leading you, and it’s the wrong path, love.”
“What are you?” she asked. “Not mortal. That would cause problems crossing into Tír na nÓg. That’s what you said, right?”
Brendan opened his mouth, then closed it and clenched his jaw.
“What’s a díbeartach?”
Brendan flinched. When he spoke, it was softly, through gritted teeth. “Listen carefully. There’s a power behind words, and that’s not the kind of word to bandy about.”
“I—”
He looked at her, anger flashing in his smoldering eyes. “I wouldn’t say it again.”
Caitlin felt a rush of fear, and she pressed herself against the passenger door, her hand reaching for the handle.
Brendan blinked and looked away. He got out of the truck and slammed the door.
Caitlin’s stomach twisted as a fresh dose of guilt and panic took hold. She got out and walked around the truck.
Brendan was a few feet away, smoking a cigarette and pacing back and forth.
She watched him for a long time, trying to figure out what to say. Nothing came to her.
Brendan looked at her, then away. He took another drag, then blew out the smoke.
“Brendan.”
He didn’t look at her.
“You shouldn’t smoke.” As soon as the words got out, she winced. “And I can’t believe I just said that.”
“You’re right.” He looked at the cigarette. “It wasn’t always like that, you know? They used to say they was good for you.” He dropped the butt on the ground and crushed it out. “I suppose it’s past time I gave it up.” He dropped the pack of cigarettes into a trashcan.
“Wait.” Caitlin grabbed his shoulder.
He turned, and when his eyes met hers, she took a step back. He wasn’t mad. He was hurt. Whether it was the word that had cut him, the fact that she’d been the one to say it, or both, she didn’t know. But it didn’t matter; the results were the same. She ran a shaking hand through her hair.
He spoke quietly, never looking at her. “If you’re thinking I’m going to back out, you needn’t worry. I promised I’d get her, and I will.”
Caitlin opened her mouth.
“It means ‘outcast’ or ‘exile,’ ” he said so quietly that Caitlin barely heard him.
“What?”
Brendan swallowed with effort and his face twisted. “Díbeartach, it’s a curse that means ‘outcast.’ ”
Caitlin lowered her eyes.
“It weren’t your doing. You didn’t know, but you have to be careful with words. This is a massive ball of shite, but you’re handling it better than anyone could expect.”
A subtle tinge of grateful relief whispered over her.
Brendan looked at the sky, then at the store’s door. “We need to pick some things up before the place closes. If you’re needing the jacks, you should do it now.” He shook his head. “I mean the toilet, bathroom, loo, whatever.”
“I know what you meant.” Not knowing what else to do, Caitlin hugged him and let out a deep sigh when she felt one arm wrap around her and give her a small squeeze.
He opened the door for her. “Go on with you, then. They’re at the back of the shop.”
Caitlin went down the small aisles of the store. It looked as though it hadn’t changed since the 1950’s. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Brendan nod to an old man behind the counter.
Caitlin stood in front of the restroom sink, washing her hands and looking at herself in the mirror. “Get it together.” She splashed some water on her face and went back into the store that time forgot.
Brendan was standing at the register. On the counter sat a loaf of homemade bread, wrapped in white paper. There was also a quart of milk, a jar of local honey, a small bottle of whiskey, four bottles of water, a bag of trail mix, and some fruit.
“That’ll be twenty-nine, forty-seven,” the old man said after the ancient register spun and lifted the numbered tiles into view.
Brendan opened his pouch.
“At least let me pay for this,” Caitlin said.
“It’s fine—”
“Please, it’s the least I can do.” She realized then that she didn’t have her wallet. Reaching into her pocket, she fished out a couple of bills and set them on the counter, glad she often forgot to check before doing laundry.
The shopkeeper made change and bagged the food.
Brendan picked up the bag. “See you around, Gordon, me best to Muriel.”
“See you, Brendan,” Gordon said, waving.
Caitlin opened the door. “So what is all this stuff, dinner?”
“The fruit and trail mix is. Not much of a selection, I know. Normally, Gordon has sandwiches, but he was out just now.” Brendan pulled a backpack out from behind the driver’s seat.
“It’s fine.” Caitlin accepted an apple, the bag of trail mix, and a bottle of water as he began putting things in the pack. “What’s the rest for?”
“The bread, milk, and honey are for payment.”
“Payment?”
“Aye. We’ll be needing us a guide when we cross.”
“What about the whiskey?”
He gave her a sideways glance. “That’s for me.” He tossed the whiskey and a bag of beef jerky onto the seat.
“Drinking and driving?”
“Oh, don’t go there, love. We’re nearly there, and I could use me a bit.”
“You’re not the only one.”
“As a good and proper Irish girl, you should know better than to ask a fella to share his whiskey.” Brendan took a drink and sighed. “Oh, that’s not half bad, there.”
He smiled at her, and she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. The last thing she needed was to distract him with her idiocy.
A wry smile crossed Caitlin’s lips. “You know, you’re right. I’ll just help myself.” She reached over, grabbed the bottle, and took a small drink.
“Aye.” Brendan started the truck. “That’s more like it, then.”
The mood only grew solemn after that.
Soon they were deep in the back woods. They’d been on a dirt road for what seemed quite a while, and now the trees loomed around them in the twilight. In the depths of the forests on either side, it seemed shadows were lurking and watching them. However, the shadows didn’t make her afraid now.
This time, the shadows should be afraid of them.
Brendan turned down what could just barely be called a road. He shifted his truck into four-wheel drive and crawled over the rocks, through the mud, and across the ruts.
The woods were deeper here, and the darkness was growing. Brendan reached down and flipped a couple switches. Lights on the bumper and a bar on the roof came to life. The trail in front of them was washed clean of darkness and shadows by bright, white light.
Caitlin’s head snapped around when she saw movement in the shadows from the corner of her eye. “Could there be something in the woods watching us?”
Brendan sniffed the air. “If there is, it’s not close by. It’s possible though that we might run into trouble at the sidhe mound.”
“That’s comforting.”
The trail ended at a clearing several hundred feet across. At the far end was a large earthen mound covered in grass and wildflowers. Something about it was oddly familiar.
As Brendan pulled into the glade, the truck’s lights swept over the expanse of it. “Well, that’s something in our favor, then.” He put the truck in park.
“What is?”
“Either the oíche don’t know that Justin told us Fiona was taken to the Tír, they don’t think we’ll come after her, or they don’t care if we do.”
“Or they’re waiting to ambush us.”
“Aye, there’s that as well, I suppose. If they are though, it isn’t on this side. You’re sure you’re ready for this? No one, meself included, would think less of you if you waited here for me to bring her back to you.”
Caitlin took a deep breath and tried not to think about the whole of the situation. “I’m sure I’m not ready, but I’m still going.”
“Well then, you’ll never plough a field by turning it over in your head.”
Caitlin didn’t have an answer to that.
Brendan turned off the engine and killed the lights. Darkness swallowed the clearing, leaving only the silvery glow of the moon upon the grass. They opened their doors and got out.
Brendan pulled the backpack from behind the seats and dropped it on the ground. “Give me a minute, love.” He pulled something else out and draped it over the side of the truck.
Caitlin’s eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, so she couldn’t tell what it was.
As Brendan moved about on the far side of the truck, her eyebrows went up. Was he taking off his belt? There was the sound of rustling fabric, and it looked as though he’d just pulled his kilt off, folded it, and put it behind the seats.
She cleared her throat and looked away. “Um, what, what are you doing?” She felt her face flush.
“Putting on something a bit better suited to the task.”
She glanced back just in time to see him take a different kilt from the side of the truck and wrap it around himself. He put something on each of his wrists. Finally, he pulled a long-sleeved shirt over his head, opened a box in the bed of the truck, and pulled out a duffel bag.
“All right, all’s well.” He dropped the tailgate of the pickup and set the duffel bag on it. “Come on.”
Caitlin noticed that this kilt was similar to the other, but this one had leather straps on either side holding it closed, and it was a dull mustard color. Her mind clicked; it was saffron. Didn’t the Irish military wear saffron kilts? Well, at least her eyes had adjusted to the darkness.
Something inside the bag glinted in the moonlight. He pulled out a wide leather belt that had two large sheaths built into it at the center. He wrapped it around his waist and secured it. Next, he slid two curved knives into the sheaths.
She saw then that it had been leather bands he’d put on his wrists. On each, she could just make out some kind of symbol. Caitlin had to admit, it was quite a sight. She’d never seen a warrior preparing for battle before. If it was possible, he looked even more like he was in the wrong time.
He pulled out what was either a long knife or a short sword. “You know how to use this?”
“I took a self-defense class once.” She took the blade. “We learned how to disarm someone with a knife and use it against them.”
“Well, as weapons go, they don’t get much simpler. No need to worry about being fancy when it comes to it.”
“When?”
“Fine, if it comes to it, just do what you need to do.”
She gripped the weapon. Things were certainly real now.
He set a small jar on the tailgate. “Best to keep it tucked away out of clear sight . . . until you need it, anyway.”
Caitlin undid her belt and fed it through the loop of the scabbard. After securing it to her satisfaction, she tried twisting the sheath so it would go horizontal to her waist, only to find it had some kind of swivel for doing just that.
Brendan pulled a necklace, a piece of carved wood hanging by a leather cord, from the bag and put it over his head. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.
“Your fae blood should let you see through the glamours.” He opened the jar and released a rather unpleasant odor. “But just to be safe . . .” He dipped his finger into the jar.
Caitlin tried not to breathe through her nose as he applied the jar’s contents to her forehead. It felt like he was drawing something. “Please tell me the smell goes away.”
“Aye.” He chuckled. “In a minute or so it’ll soak into your skin and the smell will go.”
“I don’t want to know what’s in it, do I?”
“No.”
He returned the jar to the duffel bag, put the bag back in the box, and pulled on the backpack. “All right then, time to go over the ground rules.”
“Okay.”
“I know you heard the old stories from your Nan, but you’ve also learned they weren’t all accurate. So, I’m going to cover everything. First thing, you do what I tell you, when I tell you.”
Caitlin looked away as her cheeks flushed again.
“No food or drink, at all. That’s why we’re bringing our own. Fae blood or no, you could still get bound if you partake. And for God’s sake, don’t make any fec—any bargains with anyone. I don’t care how innocent they seem, or how helpful. These are clever ones. They’ll be masters of turning the deal so you wind up the worse for it.”
“Right.”
“Don’t be offering nothing to no one, and let me do all the talking as well.”
“Understood.” Caitlin swallowed. “You’re in charge.” The knot that had periodically taken up residence in her stomach began to return.
“All right, then. Let’s go.”
Brendan dropped the keys to the truck in the box and led her to the base of the hill. As they got closer, she could see it was oval shaped and they were approaching a long side. It was fifty or sixty feet long, fifteen or twenty feet wide, and just as tall.
They reached the base of the hill, and Brendan produced a strip of cloth. “I’ve got to blindfold you.” He stepped close to her.
She felt the cloth cover her eyes and him tie it at the back of her head. His strong hands were on her shoulders as he stood behind her.
“We’re going to walk anti-clockwise about the hill nine times, but we have to do it facing backward.”
“Nine times?”
“Aye, three sets of three. Now, we’re not in a race, so go slow. I don’t want you twisting your ankle or the like. I’ll be right here guiding you the whole way. You ready?”
Caitlin took a series of deep breaths, then nodded.
“Here we go, then.”
Brendan’s hands steered her, and she found them a comfort amid the blindness. After she stumbled a couple times, she decided to start taking high steps, placing her feet down slowly to measure the terrain first. Thankfully, Brendan matched her pace.
Before long, the steps became part of a seemingly never-ending chain. The sounds and scents seemed to become more vivid. She could smell the damp earth, even each of the different trees. She could hear the leaves rattling in the wind and the fluttering of birds in the branches.
Just as she was beginning to wonder how much longer it would be, her stomach lurched, her head spun, and she nearly fell over.
Brendan’s hands gripped her, and she only went to her knees.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Give it a moment.” He stroked her back. “The sick feeling, dizziness and the like, it’ll pass in a bit. Your first time crossing can be a rough one.”
“Did it work?” She took slow, deliberate, deep breaths, trying to push the nausea back.
“Aye.” Brendan untied and removed the blindfold. “Welcome to Tír na nÓg, love.”