Gwen folded her arms across her chest. “No.”
“Don’t be a stubborn ass,” Ellie said mildly.
“Fine,” Gwen grumbled. “I’ll allow for the possibility that he may have thought about something like that.”
“Excellent. A fifteen-year age gap does seem a bit large, doesn’t it? Think of all the life experience you packed into your twenties. Would you have had those same experiences, had you been tied to Reilly? Would you be the same person you are today? Would you still want the same things?”
Gwen held up her hands in defense. “Whoa, El, whoa. Slow down. You know I’d be a different person today. As far as the other questions, I don’t know.”
She paused. But she did know, didn’t she? She’d spent so long trying to save the world, that she’d forgotten to save a little of herself. And it took a terrible act of war, and the loss of her volunteer friends, for her to finally admit what she truly wanted at this point in her life.
Huh. The realization must’ve shown on her face because Ellie smiled at her.
“So did you really give him the key to your happiness, Gwen? Or did you merely leave it in his hands for safekeeping until you yourself were ready to turn it?”
Gwen shoved another piece of pancake into her mouth to avoid answering, but she knew Ellie was right.
She recognized that she had a lot of growing up to do in her twenties. And, looking back, she regretted none of it. She learned so much, not the least of which was how to trust her instincts.
And her instincts were screaming at her that perhaps she needed to hear Reilly’s side of the story before coming to any concrete conclusions about her future. She’d fought for Reilly for so long; was she really going to walk away from a lifetime of happiness without trying to understand his side of things?
She wasn’t that rebellious young woman anymore.
Colin interrupted her thoughts when he strolled into the room, snagging a biscuit off a tray and dropping an entirely-too-involved kiss on Ellie.
“Glad you’re back, Gwen.” He took a bite, then swallowed. “So. Where’d you go?”
Gwen gave Ellie a defeated smile. “Do I have to repeat it?”
“Probably,” she replied ruefully.
“Before I do,” Gwen said, rummaging in her pocket and pulling out her phone, “do you think you could tell me what this means?”
“Trí na Gwendolyn haoiseanna mo thar mo ghrá.” He reread them silently, then asked, “Are these in a specific order?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well,” he said slowly, “if you shift them around a bit to read Trí na haoiseanna thar am mo ghrá, mo Gwendolyn, it translates to Throughout the age, beyond time, my love, my Gwendolyn.”
Ellie’s face softened. “That’s beautiful.”
“It’s a well-loved saying of the Irish. You can hear it in Gaelic songs and poetry.” Colin looked at Gwen closely. “Where did you see this?”
“Carved into the bedroom furniture,” she whispered. What have I done?
“Why didn’t you just ask Ry?”
And she repeated the entire story, but unlike Ellie, Colin interrupted with many questions. Another hour passed, and she was exhausted by the end of it.
“I think I made a mistake,” Gwen said in a small voice.
Ellie patted her hand. “We all do at some point, Gwen. It’s what we do when we figure out that the mistake’s been made that matters.”
“But how do I fix this one, if he’s there, and I’m here? Colin, can you take me back?”
He shook his head. “I can’t. I can only travel when the line’s in danger, or when Ry calls for me.”
“What’s that?” Ellie asked, noticing the large parcel he’d placed on the table when he first came in. “Sorry. I’m not trying to change the subject.”
Gwen laughed. “I know. But it looks like a book, and if it looks like a book, you need to know what it is. I get it.”
Colin picked it up. “I had the family genealogy book rebound. The cover was showing a lot of wear, so I brought it to that place you recommended in the town center.” Ellie nodded, and he handed it to her. “Check it out. It looks really good.”
“I love this book,” Ellie said with a small smile as she flipped through the pages. “Of course, I have a partiality to the late 1400s. It’s nice to see some names that I—”
“Something wrong?” Colin asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the table. He glanced up, then immediately put the cup down and rushed to Ellie, who had gone white.
Gwen also came around the table, then searched the pages open in front of Ellie. Colin gasped, and still she didn’t see anything that would make them so visibly upset.
“What am I missing?”
Ellie twisted in her chair and grasped Gwen’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Gwen.”
“Sorry for what?” she asked, a feeling of panic descending. She tried to read faster, but Colin placed his hand over their two.
“Here.”
Reilly O’Malley, unknown relation to MacWilliam clan, d. 1485
Cause of death: wound infection
Burial: Traditional Irish burial, with clan honors
“But…no,” she exclaimed, alarmed. “No. Because he can’t die, right, because…because why, Colin?” She turned begging eyes on him. “Why? How?”
Colin was already dialing on his phone. “I don’t know, Gwen. But I’ll be damned if we don’t find out. James? You need to get to Winifred’s immediately…No, it’s got nothing to do with the wedding. Just get here.”
• • •
Around midday, Aidan and Emma showed up with lunch. They joined the effort of trying to find out what happened to Reilly, but every lead fizzled out.
Gwen threw up her hands. “This will take forever, and we don’t have that kind of time! We don’t even have a date!”
“We know it happened sometime between late September and the end of December,” James said patiently. “It has to be in these certificates somewhere.”
“But he wasn’t a member of the O’Malley clan in 1485, and if he was to have a certificate within the MacWilliam clan, he had to share in the last name,” Aidan said heavily. “’Tis how we did things back then.”
“This is going to take too long,” Gwen repeated. She stood up. “There has to be something we can try that we haven’t already!”
Wearily, James wondered aloud, “How does it work, Col, when you travel?”
“The Fates appear to Reilly, and then he sends out the call. Usually he heads first to wherever the clansmen he needs are at that time, then we make our way to where, or when, we’re needed together.”
“Can any of you go back in time and stop this?” Gwen asked as Aidan and Emma joined them.
“I already tried. But we can only go to where we’re needed,” Colin said softly. “The only one who can bend time to his will—”
“…is Reilly,” Gwen finished for him, her voice hitching.
“I wish I could change it,” Colin said brokenly. “I would do anything to change this.”
An idea took shape in Gwen’s mind and was out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying.
“Anything, Colin?”
He dragged his hands through his hair, his face tortured. “Anything.”
“Excellent. I know what we need to do.” Three heads swiveled to Gwen. “We need to get to Reilly’s house. I’ll explain on the way.”
Chapter Sixteen
“No,” Colin said flatly. “He’ll rip me limb from limb.”
Gwen clenched her jaw. “Well, as of this moment, he’s not alive to do any such thing. So are you going to help me, or am I going to help myself?”
They barreled toward Dowth, a monolithic structure to the west of Reilly’s cottage, in Reilly’s Ford, which was the only vehicle big enough to hold everyone. She’d quickly changed into her medieval blue dress again, and, with the help of Colin and Aidan, had strapped five blades from Reilly’s chest to various par
ts of her person.
Colin took a hard left, then continued on at breakneck speed. “I’ll not call those harpies, Gwen. They’ll kill you just for sport. We try it my way.”
“They’re the only ones who can get us back there,” she replied—and rather rationally, in her opinion.
Another hard turn had her gripping the dashboard.
Behind them, another conversation was happening over theirs.
“I find it grating that I’m wearing an O’Malley léine,” Aidan grumbled from the backseat. “A travesty. If anyone should be in this monstrosity, it should be Gwendolyn.”
“You’re just upset that it’s too big for you,” James said with a snort. “You wouldn’t go wrong with a few days in the gym, you know.”
“So says the soft-bellied healer,” Aidan shot back.
“Who saved your life. Twice,” James reminded him blandly.
Colin hit the horn in warning as a sheep herder began moving his flock toward the road. “You’re being unreasonable, Gwen.”
“You’ve said yourself you don’t have the power to open the damn rock,” Gwen argued, tightening her hold as he swung around another turn. The sun dipped low into the sky. “We’ll never make it by sunset.”
“What does your cake look like?” Emma asked Ellie.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous. It’ll be three levels. The frosting will look like lace, to match my dress, and there will be red poppies all over it.”
“Red poppies?” Emma asked, surprised.
Gwen could hear the grin in Ellie’s voice as she responded shyly, “It’s our flower.”
“We’re here,” Colin said curtly, slamming the brakes.
The sun was almost touching the horizon as everyone piled out of the SUV. Ellie took Gwen’s hand, and the group raced toward the nearly-abandoned site. The overgrowth obscured part of the entrance, and, as the shadows lengthened, they ran to the far side of the structure.
Aidan, James, and Colin were dressed in Reilly’s spare léines, and Gwen smoothed the front of her dress nervously. This had to work.
It had to.
Colin shot her a disgruntled look, and she threw up her hands. “Fine!” she exclaimed. “You got us here in time. Now, please, just get us there.”
They all fell silent as Colin cleared away the small vines and leaves to reveal a slim crack. “Stand close, because if this opens, it closes fast.” He turned to Ellie and kissed her hard. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispered. “Be safe. Oh! And take this.” She handed him a paper bag. “For Claire.”
Aidan kissed Emma, then leaned down and kissed her stomach. “I will return. We’ve unfinished business.”
Her smile was wobbly. “We always seem to, in these situations.”
Gwen waited impatiently. It had been decided that Ellie and Emma would stay behind, mostly because they had no desire to travel back to the Middle Ages. James, laden with modern-day antibiotics, would be rendering aid to Reilly once they found him; Aidan would be of help in navigating and fighting their way through Ireland, if they ended up somewhere they didn’t expect. Colin would bring them all there, and Gwen…
Well, she was going, no matter what, because this was Reilly. Her Reilly.
Colin placed both hands on either side of the small opening and closed his eyes. A charged moment passed. “Le cumhacht na nDéithe, ordaím duit oscailt chugamsa, An Cosantóir.”
Gwen held her breath.
Colin pushed against the rock again. More forcefully, he repeated,“Le cumhacht na nDéithe, ordaím duit oscailt chugamsa, An Cosantóir!”
And when nothing happened, save a bird calling in the distance, James swore, and Colin’s shoulders dropped.
“What happened when Reilly would do this?” Ellie ventured.
“It would open, then, when the last rays of the sun hit the chamber inside, it would bring him directly to the MacWilliam lands,” Colin muttered. “Looks like that was a gate for Reilly’s use only.”
“Well,” Gwen said decisively, “now we do it my way.”
She walked a few steps away from them and threw her head back. “You best show your cowardly faces, Fates! I have a big bone to pick with you!”
“Not the best way to get their attention, Gwen.”
“I’m past caring, Colin. These Fates have done enough playing with people’s lives.” She narrowed her eyes. “They’re not in charge of us.”
“They rather are, I think,” Aidan murmured.
She pointed at him. “Stop it. They are not. We are in charge of our destinies. And Reilly’s destiny is not to die in some medieval castle from an infection that could probably be fixed with today’s medicine.”
“Probably,” James agreed. “Let’s just hope we can get to them.”
“Oh, we’re going to do more than hope,” Gwen snarled. “Come out, you useless old hags, and live up to your fearsome reputation!”
If she felt any fear at all, Gwen ruthlessly buried it deep in her chest. She couldn’t afford to be afraid. Reilly’s life depended on it, and he’d lived too long—and they’d been through too much—for it to be over before it had even begun.
The air began to shimmer, and Colin instinctively put Ellie behind him. He then replaced himself with James, and ran out to Gwen.
“They don’t scare me,” she told him with a huff. “You hear that?” she called. “You don’t scare me!”
“It makes one wonder what would scare you, Gwendolyn Allen.”
Colin tried to tuck her behind him, but she sidestepped him and faced the Mother, who stood between them and the rest of the group. She glowed, the light surrounding her making it nearly impossible to see anything beyond.
“Send us back to him.”
“Do you think you’re brave, child, standing here and making demands?” the Mother asked curiously.
“Not brave. Just right. Send us back to get him.”
“Such indignation,” the Fate replied calmly. “What motivation have I to grant your request?”
“Motivation?” Gwen echoed, her anger rising. “How about one hundred and eighty-two years of being your minion? Isn’t that enough? Or maybe, now that he isn’t of any use to you, you think you can just throw him away and deny him the right you’ve given to all the other Protectors?”
“Ah. But you denied him. You took away that right when you rejected him as your soul mate. He is of no more concern to you.”
“I did not reject him as my soul mate,” Gwen retorted, standing her ground. The Mother glowed brighter, but Gwen refused to look away. “I was angry, and I was wrong. But I never said I rejected him.”
“You did deny him, though. You chose to leave him. He chose to fight in a battle not his own. And therein lie your fates.”
Gwen refused to believe that. “No. You asked if I was ready to go home, and I said yes. You did not ask if I was refusing to claim him back.”
A second figure joined the Mother, and Gwen felt her alarm grow. The Crone’s staff loomed, and the Fate herself seemed larger than the last time Gwen saw her.
“You are quite desperate, summoning us,” the Crone snapped.
“Bold,” the Mother corrected. “I believe her to be bold.”
Gwen folded her arms. “Desperate, bold, call it what you will. But you owe him more than what you’ve given him.”
The Crone glowered. “You are but a speck in time. Your life will happen and end in a fraction of the Universe’s existence.”
Gwen jumped on that like a lifeline. “Yes! Exactly! And that’s why it shouldn’t matter to you that someone is pulled out of their time, such as Aidan was. Or that another man, who dedicated what tiny slice of time is allotted to him within this Universe to you, is spared from an unnecessary death.”
The Crone opened her mouth, then paused.
The Mother smiled. “What a wise point you’ve made, Gwendolyn. Our young warrior did indeed give his time in this world to us.”
The Crone leaned heavily on her staff. �
�You understand that we could end your life right here.”
“I do.”
“And yet you still are determined to make demands to spare his life, regardless of your own?”
“I am.”
A third figure materialized, and the land around them lit up so brightly, Gwen had to cover her eyes; even then, the light penetrated her hands and eyelids.
“She’s proven herself dedicated to her mate,” the Maiden’s voice carried.
“Only a true soul mate can go to him,” the Mother added.
Gwen stood as tall as she could. “I am Reilly’s mate.”
“We will send you back to him,” the Crone said decisively. “We will send you with your three warriors here. But you have only three hours in which to find him. At the end of those hours, you all must be with him if he is to return to this time.”
“Done,” came a faraway voice from behind the Fates. Gwen couldn’t be sure, but she suspected it was Colin.
And Gwen felt the Crone’s staff shake the ground.
• • •
His time had finally come.
Though he’d wished to be allowed a natural death, Reilly thought it would be nice to die of old age rather than a dirty sword through the side. But, he reasoned, beggars couldn’t be choosers. When one’s time was up…well, ’twas up.
His breath shallow, he tried to lift his head. He recognized Bri’s voice as she urged him to lay back. He blinked his eyes open. He may be dying, but his mind was still alert. Foggy from pain, to be sure, but he was not dead yet.
It took a moment to focus his gaze. “Bri.”
“I’m here, Ry. I’m right here. I won’t leave.” Her voice, strained with tears, sounded faraway.
Well, he thought. That’s probably not the best sign.
He tried to take a deeper breath, but his lungs seized and he began coughing violently. She made sounds of despair, placing her hands over his oblique muscles. “Stop, stop, you’re making the blood loss worse! Oh, Reilly, please…”
He covered her hands with his, and dimly realized hers were covered with blood.
Falling Through Time: Mists of Fate - Book Four Page 29
