by Jodi McIsaac
They were still pacing the hallway when Eden materialized out of thin air and fell onto the carpet at Cedar’s feet. She was soaking wet. “Close it!” Eden screamed, and Finn rushed over to the patch of glittering air. They heard a loud roar, and then Finn waved his hand and there was silence.
Felix immediately took Eden into his arms and carried her over to the couch. She was shivering and pale. “Warm clothes,” he said, and Jane ran to Eden’s room. He cupped Eden’s face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “Eden, it’s Uncle Felix,” he said. “Can you hear me?” Eden nodded. “You’re safe now, and your mum and dad are right here.”
Cedar crouched down next to the couch and clasped Eden’s hand in hers. “Are you okay?” she asked. “What happened? Where did you go? Why are you so wet?”
“Let her rest for a moment,” Felix said. He whispered some words and held his hands over Eden’s forehead, then her chest, stomach, and legs. “She’s fine physically,” he said. “Just chilled. But let’s help her feel safe and warm. I’ll make some tea.”
Jane handed Cedar some dry pajamas for Eden, then sat down in the armchair in the corner, hugging her knees close to her chest. Cedar helped Eden into the pajamas and then wrapped her up in a quilt and sat down next to her, holding her close. Finn was pacing the room, his eyes locked on his daughter.
When Felix returned, he handed mugs to both Cedar and Eden. “I have a feeling you could use some of this too,” he said, and both mother and daughter accepted their tea. Finally, Cedar asked, “Can you talk about it now?”
“I don’t know how I got there,” Eden said. “I remember reading on my bed, and then I woke up outside. There were dancing lights and a stream with little fairies in it. I climbed to the top of a hill and saw two people in a big bed. One of them was Nuala. She woke up and chased me.”
Cedar looked at Finn in alarm and saw that he had stopped pacing. His face was pale and drawn.
“How did you escape?” Cedar asked Eden.
“I just thought of home and jumped into the stream,” Eden replied. “It was the only thing I could think of.”
Cedar hugged her daughter close, her eyes filling with tears. “You did great, baby. I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“But how did I get there?” Eden asked.
“You don’t remember waking up and screaming?” Finn asked. Felix had forced a cup into his hand as well, and Cedar was pretty sure that it didn’t contain tea.
Eden’s forehead creased as she frowned. “I wasn’t screaming.”
“You were, honey,” Cedar said gently. “Your eyes were open and you were screaming and you wouldn’t let me hold you. Then you ran out of the room and made a sidh. You closed it behind you before we could get to you.”
Eden looked at her with big eyes. “I didn’t do any of that! Honest, I didn’t!”
“It’s okay, Eden, you’re not in trouble. You just don’t remember doing it,” Felix said. He glanced at Finn. “It could be an innocuous as a night terror… but considering where she ended up, I have my doubts.”
“You think Nuala did this?” Cedar asked. “How? How could she get inside Eden’s head like that?” The thought of Nuala being able to torment her daughter from another world was something Cedar hadn’t even thought to fear. How could she keep her daughter safe if Nuala could get inside Eden’s mind?
“I don’t know,” Felix said, a tortured look on his face as he stared at the huddled figures on the sofa. “I don’t know.”
CHAPTER 7
Cedar was afraid to sleep that night, convinced that Eden might somehow disappear from her arms. Finally, Finn asked Felix to make Cedar a sleeping draught so that she’d be at least somewhat well rested for their trip to Edinburgh. Cedar protested, but Finn promised to stay awake all night to keep an eye on Eden. Begrudgingly, Cedar agreed, knowing Finn required much less sleep than she did. It wasn’t the first time she wished she didn’t have the gift of humanity. More of a curse than a gift, she thought, but then checked herself. Her gift had saved Eden’s life and rid the Tuatha Dé Danann of Lorcan. Not that they were overwhelmed with gratitude, she thought grumpily as she drifted off into an herb-induced sleep.
She was the last one up in the morning. Eden and Jane were chatting over bowls of Cocoa Puffs, last night’s terror seemingly forgotten. Fascinated by the prospect of going to a real castle, Eden was bombarding Jane with questions about the princes and princesses who had lived there. To her credit, Jane was answering Eden’s questions as patiently as she could, pulling up pictures and timelines and video tours on her laptop for Eden to watch.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Finn said, handing her a cup of coffee.
“Morning,” Cedar said. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.”
He shrugged. “You needed it. And we don’t all need to have an encyclopedic knowledge of Edinburgh Castle,” he said, grinning at Jane and Eden.
“Mum, guess what?” Eden said. “They have a cemetery just for pets!”
“Very useful knowledge, I’m sure,” Cedar said, smiling. “So? Are we ready to check this place out?”
“No photography or videos are allowed in the Crown Room, where the stone is,” Jane said. “But I’m sure I can get around that if need be. And who knows? It might be easier than we think. It could just be a matter of distracting the guards and making a run for it.”
“Think you can manage that without getting arrested?” Felix asked.
Jane shot him a dirty look. “I’m sure you could magic me out if I did,” she said.
“Don’t know that I’d want to,” he replied under his breath.
Cedar raised her eyebrows at Finn, who shook his head and rolled his eyes. Cedar took this to mean that Felix and Jane had been bickering all morning. She stepped between them and clapped her hands.
“Okay!” she said brightly. “So we’re going to act like normal tourists, but we’ll head straight for the Crown Room. Jane will see what kind of technology we’re up against, Felix will keep an eye out for any kinds of magical protection around the stone, and Finn and I will be glued to Eden’s side.” It made her nervous to take Eden out in public after last night, but if they didn’t find the stone, none of them would be safe. No one would.
A few minutes later they were ready to go. Eden opened the sidh into a back alley on the Royal Mile, just outside the castle. It was early afternoon here, and the main street was crowded with the last flush of the tourist season. Cedar bought them all tickets at the admissions stand, despite Jane’s protests. “Why are we buying tickets again?” she asked. “Why can’t Eden just zap us into the Crown Room?”
“Because someone might ask to see our tickets inside,” Cedar said. “I don’t know how it works; none of us have ever been here before.”
“Technically, that’s not true,” Felix said, strolling behind them. “I was here once… but it was before the castle was built.”
“Show-off,” Jane muttered.
They followed the map they’d been given at the entrance and walked through the Gatehouse, between the looming statues of Sir William Wallace and King Robert the Bruce. Cedar ran her hands along the stone walls, thinking about all of the other hands that must have touched them over the past several hundred years. She had always felt rather rootless growing up in the “new world,” where almost everyone was from somewhere else. She’d had an Irish friend once in high school. She had asked her how long her family had been Irish, and, with a puzzled look on her face, her friend had answered, “Forever, I suppose.” At the time, Cedar had envied such a heritage. How strange it was to realize that she belonged to a race even older than the Irish, an unbroken line that went back to the dawn of time.
They passed under a massive stone gate, trying not to run or look conspicuous in their haste. Eden kept pulling on Cedar’s arm, trying to get her to go see the dog cemetery. “Later,” Cedar told her. “We have to find the stone first.” She had to admit that she, too, wished they could stop and look around. She’d nev
er been to a castle before, and she vowed to bring Eden back here someday, when they could wander the nooks and crannies of history at their leisure.
After winding between ancient buildings and through clusters of tourists, they stepped into a large square courtyard in the heart of the castle. Stone buildings and towers surrounded them on every side. Cedar turned the map upside down so she that she could orient herself. “The war museum is that way,” she said, pointing. “The royal apartments are that way, and it says the Crown Room is this way.”
They followed a tour group through one of the doors and into a large hall. A man dressed in period costume was explaining what the hall had been used for in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Cedar looked around for the stone.
“It’s not in here. We have to head up these stairs,” Jane said, leading the way. She scowled at the large signs that read, NO VIDEO OR PHOTOGRAPHY PERMITTED. When they reached the top, they passed through another doorway, one that was thick and heavy, and entered a small, dimly lit room. Cedar felt like she’d stumbled into an old university library. The walls were lined with dark wood, and the plush carpet muffled their footsteps. There were only a couple of other people inside, but the room was small and it felt close and crowded.
In the center of the room, on a raised platform cordoned off by a brass rail, were the Honours of Scotland, encased in glass. Eden’s mouth hung open as she gazed at the crown, which was studded with pearls and gemstones. Beside it lay a long polished sword with an ornate, silver hilt. The scepter was no less impressive. It was gleaming silver and at least four feet long, topped with a dark polished stone and a single pearl. Lying beside it was a large rectangular block of stone resting on a deep purple cloth. The stone was about two feet long, a foot and a half wide, and a foot deep. It looked no different from the stones that she’d run her fingers across in the castle wall. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but this stone appeared so perfectly ordinary that she didn’t think it could possibly be the Lia Fáil of legend. Still, there was only one way to find out. She reached out a hand.
“Don’t touch the glass, miss,” came a voice from behind her. One of the castle guides was standing in the corner, frowning at her. Cedar nodded and pulled her hand back. After a moment Felix sidled up to the guide and started chatting casually with him.
“C’mon,” said Jane, who had been staring into the corners of the room, probably trying to figure out where the security cameras were. “I want to look at the other side of the room.” Cedar followed her to the opposite side of the display. It hurt to be this close without being able to do anything about it. All she—or Finn or Felix or Eden—needed to do was touch it to see if it grew warm. If it did, they’d be able to go back to Tír na nÓg and start setting things right immediately. If not, well…
Felix came striding up to them just then, rubbing his hands together, a huge smile on his face.
“You look like you have good news,” Cedar said, her hopes rising.
Felix shrugged and winked at Finn. “I don’t think we’ll have too many problems,” he said. “But it would be best if we went to get ourselves a pint so that we can chat about it somewhere more private. Let’s go.”
An hour later they were ensconced in the White Bull, one of Edinburgh’s many tiny pubs. Eden was wolfing down a plate of sweet potato fries, accompanied by a Shirley Temple, while the rest of them drank their pints and listened to Felix. “It’s amazing what people will tell you when they think you’re a novelist,” he was saying. “The security’s heavy, for sure, but I don’t think it’s impossible.”
“But there are cameras everywhere,” Jane said. “Plus bulletproof glass—”
“Bullet-resistant, actually,” Felix corrected her. “There’s no such thing as completely bulletproof glass.”
“Whatever,” she said. “There’s bullet-resistant glass, steel blinds, the doors are reinforced with steel… and those are just the security features we know about. There are probably all kinds of bells and whistles we can’t see. These are the most valuable artifacts in all of Scotland. Your little conversation with the guide hasn’t changed any of that.”
“Always the pessimist, aren’t you?” Felix said. “They’re expecting humans to try to steal the crown jewels. And we”—he indicated everyone at the table except for Jane—“are not human. We’re faster, we’re stronger, and we have a tricky little damsel right here who could get us into the queen’s bedroom if we asked her nicely enough. Not that I want to know what’s going on in there,” he added, and everyone except Jane laughed.
“So what’s your plan?” Cedar asked.
“First, we finish this lovely pint,” he said, raising his glass in a salute. “Then we go back to your place and cool our heels until the castle closes and it’s nice and dark. Later, Eden can open a sidh directly into the Crown Room. Finn will transform into something big and strong and decidedly nonhuman, bust open the case, grab the stone, and pop back into the sidh. Even if the cameras see him—which they no doubt will—and they lock the whole bloody island down, he’ll already be back in Halifax, which is, frankly, the last place they’d think to look for him even if they somehow managed to recognize him, which they won’t, because he’ll immediately transform back into the handsome fellow you see sitting before you.”
Cedar looked at Finn, who was smiling wryly at Felix. “Hardly sophisticated,” he said, “but it should work.”
“I like it,” Cedar said. “Let’s do it. But I don’t like the idea of just cooling our heels while we wait.” She checked the time on her phone. “We’ve got three hours before the castle closes, and probably another five or six before it’s really dark. I think we should look somewhere else in the meantime, in case you’re right and this isn’t the real Lia Fáil. How about Scone?”
“It’s a long shot,” Finn said, “The abbey that was in charge of the stone was destroyed centuries ago. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to do a little exploring.”
Jane pulled her tablet out of her bag and did a quick search. “Scone Palace has a replica of the Stone of Destiny, and it looks like they recently found some of the ruins of the abbey. Wouldn’t it be crazy if the real stone was built into the abbey? It could be part of the ruins.”
“That would make sense if they wanted to hide it from the English,” Cedar said, excitement in her voice. “Let’s go check it out.”
A few minutes later they were standing in a small grove of trees on the grounds of Scone Palace. The sun shone through the delicate green leaves so that the trees appeared to be dripping with jewels. They stepped out onto the pathway and looked around to get their bearings.
“The replica of the stone is up here,” Jane said, pointing to a stone chapel on top of a small hill. Cedar cast her eyes about as they walked up the hill. There were other tourists milling around the grounds, but no one had seemed to have noticed their unconventional arrival. Scone Palace loomed in front of them, opposite the chapel. The palace’s outer walls were draped in ivy, and a few leaves were beginning to redden in the late summer chill. “Here it is,” Jane said.
The replica was a good one; Cedar couldn’t tell the difference between the stone they had seen in Edinburgh Castle and the one that was supported by two pillars in front of the entrance to the chapel. It was the height of a bench, and Eden climbed up and sat down on it. Cedar placed her palm against the stone, which stayed cool to the touch. Finn and Felix followed suit, but both shook their heads. “Well, we know this one is a replica,” Cedar said, feeling foolish for being disappointed. “The question is whether the original is still around here or if they actually gave it to the English.” She shivered suddenly and told Eden to zip up her jacket.
“But I’m not cold,” Eden protested. Cedar felt goose bumps travel up and down her arms, and was going to ask Finn if he found it unusually cold. She stopped when she noticed that he and Felix were staring straight ahead, looks of astonishment on their faces.
“What is it?” she asked.
&nbs
p; “Oh, wow!” Eden exclaimed. “Cool! Look, Mum!” she said, pointing.
Cedar trained her eyes where Eden was pointing, but all she could see was an empty field. A group of Japanese tourists walked past them, chatting animatedly with one another. “I don’t see anything,” Cedar said.
“The church!” Eden said.
“What church? The church is behind us,” Cedar said, pointing at the small chapel that the Japanese tourists had just entered.
“I don’t see anything either,” said Jane.
“You probably can’t see it because you’re human,” Eden said in a matter-of-fact voice. “And because you’re kind of human, Mum.”
Finn turned to them. “You really can’t see it?”
Cedar squinted at the field again. “No,” she said. “All I see is a field. But it’s bitterly cold. Aren’t the rest of you cold?” They all shook their heads.
“Odd,” Finn said. “Your human ability won’t let you see them, but maybe you can still feel them.”
“Them? Who?”
“The ghosts,” Eden said in an awed voice. “Look! One is coming toward us!” She ducked behind Finn’s legs and peered out around them.
“What’s happening?” Cedar asked.
She felt Jane edge in closer to her. “Ghosts?” her friend whispered.
“Don’t be afraid,” Felix said, standing a bit taller. “You’re safe with us.”
“I’m not afraid,” Jane snapped. “I just can’t see a damn thing.”
“A figure is heading this way,” Felix explained. “And beyond him, I think it must be the old abbey. Jane, can you pull up the map of the grounds on your computer?”
Jane mumbled something about data charges, but pulled out her tablet and peered at the screen. “Yeah, according to the map, the abbey was located over there. What… what does it look like?”
“Like how you’d expect a ghost church would look, I suppose,” Finn said. “It’s not huge, maybe three hundred feet in length, Romanesque in design, I’d say. I think it was built in the 1100s. You can see through it, but it still looks solid enough to touch.” He held up his hand, and they all fell silent. Finn, Felix, and Eden were staring at the same spot in the air in front of them. Then Finn bowed slightly. “And to you, friend. We did not expect to see this place.”
