“Ahh . . .” Regan frowned. “I can’t . . . I’m having trouble . . . processing.”
“Take a moment to gather your wits, so that we might speak.” Boann glided toward the kitchen. “I’ll make tea.”
Hysteria bubbled through Regan, bursting forth in a bark of laughter. “You’re going to make tea? Like . . . like that’s going to make all of this seem . . . normal?”
“Would you prefer coffee?”
“I’d prefer a Xanax, if you really want to know the truth.” She plowed her shaky fingers through her hair.
“That I cannot give you. Would you prefer I bespell you into a calmer state?”
“No! Oh, God, no.” She leaned back, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “Tea would be great. Chamomile.” Regan focused on the ordinary sounds of an extraordinary being making tea in her kitchen—Fáelán and Morrigan’s daughter no less, half Tuatha Dé Danann, half human.
“Does your mother know you’re here?” She snorted. Even to her, the question sounded ridiculous. Boann wasn’t some teenager who’d snuck out of the house to party with friends.
Regan opened her eyes again as Boann set a teapot and two mugs on the coffee table. Then she kind of floated over to the chair across from Regan and sat down.
Regan’s ability to think was coming back to her in small increments. To buy time to recover, she poured tea into the mugs. Lifting hers, she sipped while stealing peeks at the fae princess. Boann had Fáelán’s mouth and chin, and her fine, straight nose was a smaller version of his. Morrigan had kept Fáelán’s daughter from him, and knowing him as she did, Regan ached for the new hurt this would cause him when he found out.
Boann reached for the second mug. She leaned back in the chair and wrapped both hands around the ceramic cup. “To answer your question, nay, my mother does not know I am here, and she must not learn of it. I have masked my whereabouts from her.”
She canted her head and scrutinized Regan. “Normally, I would not involve myself in the affairs of mortals, but because of the innocent new life you carry, I find I must intercede.”
“What are you talking about?” Oh, and just when she’d recovered her capacity to think straight, there it went again.
“New life has quickened within your womb. You and Fáelán have conceived, and I—”
“You can’t possibly know that.” She stiffened, and hot tea spilled onto her lap. “I haven’t missed . . . Fáelán and I only spent a few days together.” She couldn’t be pregnant. Could she? They’d had unprotected sex once. She hadn’t actually counted days on her calendar, but she’d been pretty sure she’d been in the safe zone. Oh, God, was it true? Am I ready to be a mother? Morrigan lied, why wouldn’t her daughter do the same? “I don’t think so, and anyway, it’s too soon to know.”
“Nay, ’tis not too soon.” A pitying look flitted across Boann’s features. “The moment conception takes place, a new and unique ripple enters the astral plane. Mortals have lost the ability to detect such things, but at one time, you too would’ve known the very instant a new life began within you.”
“I need a minute.” She couldn’t deal with this additional stressor. Regan’s hands were shaking. She set the tea on the table and lowered her head between her knees again.
“I understand. While you gather yourself together, I’ll explain a little about what is going on. My grandsire King Lir is aware something is amiss with Morrigan. Our actions send energy trails through the astral plane, and when we do wrong, the vibrations alter. Our energy patterns are as unique to us as fingerprints are to your kind. ’Tis how we identify ourselves and others.”
So what Jim had told her was true. “How can you help, and why would you want to? Why did Morrigan keep you a secret?” Regan asked, coming back up to face the faerie. Could she trust her, or was Boann here to lure her into danger? This might be part of Morrigan’s plot to test Fáelán–or to torture him.
The smell of rain intensified, and Boann’s eyes took on a definite glow. “’Tis a long story, but one you must hear, for I am at the crux of my sire’s curse, and oft my mother and I quarreled over his fate.”
Her voice carried a deep sadness, and Regan didn’t doubt the truth of her words. Her defenses lowered the tiniest bit.
“When a Tuatha Dé Danann woman becomes pregnant, she bonds irrevocably with the sire of her babe. Unbeknownst to Fáelán, I was conceived during his brief tryst with my mother. ’Tis why she became obsessed with him, and why she remains so today. When Fáelán rejected her, Mother’s obsession and disappointment turned to rage. She set out to punish him for his impertinence, and she kept me a secret from him out of wounded pride and spite.”
“But . . . Morrigan deceived him from the start. None of what happened can be laid at his feet.”
“Aye.” Boann sighed. “Morrigan’s wishes were thwarted by a mere mortal. To her, that is all that matters.”
“Why did you wait until now to help him?” None of this made sense to her. “Couldn’t you have ended his curse yourself?”
“Nay. ’Tis not possible for any of us to end a curse or an enchantment laid by another. Otherwise I would’ve done so eons ago. Even so, ’twas I who returned his island to him after my mother abandoned him to the mist.”
Again Regan sensed a deep sadness within Boann. “I’m sorry you never got to know Fáelán. He’s . . .” Her eyes filled. “He’s funny, smart, honorable and—”
“Oh, I have come to know him a little, though he’s been unaware.” A wistful smile played across Boann’s features, and her eyes ceased glowing, softening to a clear blue. “Despite my mother’s edict that I not reveal myself to him, I oft posed as a servant and brought him his meals. I also watched him through a scrying bowl.” Her smile grew. “’Twas amusing, seeing him pretend to hunt and fish, and to watch him train so intensely, as if he fought a real foe instead of a tree. He’s quite determined. My sire’s mind is exceptionally strong for a mortal.”
Her heart broke for Boann, who obviously longed for a relationship with her dad. Regan propped her elbows on her knees and rested her forehead on her hands. The mother of all headaches throbbed painfully at the back of her skull, and she really, really wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. Rescue Fáelán first, and then you can sleep all you want. “So, if you can’t end his curse, how do you propose to help?”
“There was naught I could do until the terms of my sire’s release came to pass, and Morrigan reneged on her oath, which is against our laws. ’Twas wrong of my mother to interfere with a mortal, and her deceitfulness in masking her true identity makes her actions all the worse. That she hid all of this from my grandsire will go against her.”
“So, your king doesn’t know you’re part human?” Regan asked, her head still in her hands. “That seems—”
“Of course he knows, but that minor transgression was ignored. To conceive at all has become rare for our kind. Because of me, my grandsire was willing to overlook Morrigan’s involvement with a mortal. Morrigan hid all else from King Lir. I am bound by laws of kinship, and because of that binding, I could not bring any of this to my grandsire’s attention. Fáelán is not one of us; the fae court would not view Morrigan’s keeping me from him as a wrong done against me. On the contrary, they would view it as appropriate. ’Tis you who must plead your case to my grandsire. You must go to King Lir’s court.”
“Me?” Regan squeaked.
“Aye, for ’tis you, my sire and your unborn child who have been grievously wronged by Morrigan’s machinations. My mother has broken more than one of the covenants between our kind and yours, which gives you the right to seek redress.” Boann lifted her chin, and the gesture gave her such a striking resemblance to Fáelán that Regan’s breath hitched.
“As to my motives,” Boann continued. “I grew up without my sire. He was forbidden to me, and I from him. I will not allow my half sibling to suffer as I have.”
How could Boann’s mother be so cruel? A lump rose to her throat, followed by
a rush of anger. If what Boann had told her was true, Regan’s child might also suffer the same fate because of Morrigan. Not if she could help it, dammit. “I hope we have the chance to get to know each other better once all of this is behind us,” Regan said, pushing herself to standing.
“I hope so as well.” Boann rose from her chair.
“So, what do we need to do now?”
“I will take you to Prince Mananán, my uncle. He has a magical boat, Ocean Sweeper, which will transport you to King Lir’s kingdom, and there you must present your case at his court.”
Panic sent her pulse pounding. How could she, a mere human, face a faerie king? “Will you come with me?”
“Only as far as I am able. Your cause will be better served if I return home as if naught out of my ordinary routine has occurred. There I can distract my mother and hide your actions, so you will have the chance to present yourself to King Lir.”
Another wave of panic swamped her as new worries flared, clamoring for attention. “If I do manage to reach your grandfather’s court, how will I get back? What if my presence in the faerie realm is unwelcome? What if your mother somehow catches wind of this?” By the time she’d voiced her newest fears, more surged to the front of the line. So many things could go wrong.
“I cannot offer you any assurances, Regan. I wish I could. I’ll do my best to keep my mother’s attention away from you.”
“Do your best, because I’m completely defenseless against your mother. Though I can feel magic all around me, I can’t use it in any practical way. I’ve tried to . . . to somehow tap into the power I sensed at Newgrange, and again at Tara. I failed at Newgrange, and at Tara the magic controlled me, rather than the other way around.”
“’Twas I who took you from Tara.” Boann moved to one of the windows and thrust her hand into a beam of sunlight. “You believe magic is outside of you, that it is something to be caught in a glass jar like you humans do with fireflies? Come,” she commanded. “Watch.”
Regan moved closer. Was it her imagination, or were the dust motes gravitating toward Boann’s palm?
“Magic exists within all sentient beings. It is innate to the Tuatha, and to humans.”
Sure enough, the dust began to coalesce, becoming more and more dense by the second. Regan blinked, rubbed her eyes and looked again.
“Do you really think you could perceive magic’s presence if you didn’t already possess its essence within yourself?” Boann asked, keeping her gaze fixed upon the emerging shape.
“Hmm.” That hadn’t occurred to her, but it made sense.
The faerie held out her hand and presented her with the finished product, sliding it from her palm to Regan’s. Regan studied the shape, the long ears laid back against the fluffy form, its tiny feet peeking out under its chest. “A dust bunny.” She shook her head. “Cute, but not much help against an angry faerie princess. I can’t imagine Morrigan running away in terror from”—she lifted the bunny—“this mighty beast.”
Boann chuckled, and the sound splintered apart, appearing throughout the room as tiny bits of light in rainbow colors. “I meant it only as a demonstration. You possess magic, Regan. Your mistake was to look for it from without rather than within. Magic is everywhere, and using it is simply a matter of exerting your will.”
“Can you teach me?”
“Alas, there is no time.”
Regan’s desperate hope dissolved, and at the same time, the dust bunny in her hand fell apart and drifted to the floor.
“See?” Boann pointed to the pile of dust. “You did that.”
“Not consciously.” She swiped the remnants of dust from her hands.
“Aye, well . . .” The faerie glided to the door. “Mayhap your abilities will be greatly enhanced whilst you are in the fae realm.”
“I have a few things to do, and a few things to gather before I go anywhere.” She grabbed her phone and texted her sisters that she might not be there when they arrived. If she didn’t answer her cell phone, they were to take a cab to her town house, and she told them where to find a key she’d hidden outside her front door. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”
It took her ten minutes to put everything in place. Regan stuffed her phone into her day pack, right next to the police-grade stun gun her parents had insisted she take with her when traveling alone. She tossed in a couple of protein bars and two bottles of water, then zipped her bag shut and slung it over her shoulder and across her chest. Squaring her shoulders, she faced Boann. “OK. I’m ready.” What the hell was she doing? Facing impossible odds against any chance of success was insane, yet when Boann reached out her hand, Regan took it. The crazy rush and whoosh took them away.
Chapter Ten
No matter how far or how fast Fáelán ran, Morrigan’s accursed window into the earthly realm kept pace beside him. He refused to look, lest he be drawn in by what he might see. His lungs heaved, and sweat dripped from his bare skin to combine with the gray mist of the void. Though his muscles burned and cried for mercy, he kept moving.
Options were few as to how to spend his time. He’d chosen to expend his energy through physical exertion, working his body until exhaustion dulled the cutting edge of his pain. ’Twas the only way he knew to stay sane. Only in sleep and dreaming could he be free, and then he dreamed of a life with Regan.
Shortly after his confrontation with Morrigan, he’d inadvertently caught a glimpse of Regan crying herself sick whilst sitting on the couch in her town house. That brief look had set off an unbearable inferno of grief and rage, and he’d quickly learned to be more careful. He’d tried to will himself elsewhere, but Morrigan had put a stop to his wandering. He’d even tried to go through the window itself, to no avail. Fáelán’s entire life had been reduced to two objectives: remain sane, and thwart Morrigan in every way possible.
Coming to a stop, he leaned over and gasped for air. His limbs shook with fatigue, and he sank to the ground. Now that he’d completed the physical exercise, he began the mental drilling. Fáelán brought to mind all the training he’d received in Fionn’s army. He relived every battle he’d fought, studying his opponents’ moves, countermoves, feints, parries, grapples and holds. With no weapons to hand, or sparring partners, all he had were his memories to help him keep his skills sharp. Soon fatigue overtook him, and he dozed.
Someone’s presence woke him, and he once again found food and drink had been left beside him, though whoever had brought it was gone. Morrigan no longer risked having a servant bring his meals to him whilst he was awake. Did she fear he’d somehow convince one of the fae servants to help him? If so, was that not proof of her guilt, and that she had indeed broken her oath? That might lead King Lir to intercede. Then again, it might not.
Even if King Lir chose not to act, over time Morrigan’s guard would slip, and Fáelán would be ready. He’d catch one of her servants bringing his food, and he’d beg for their aid. Aye, he’d throw himself at their feet if need be. All he had to do was feign sleep and wait—not now while Morrigan would still be vigilant, but in time.
Sighing, he sat up and drew the tray to him. Gods, he was tempted to look through the fecking portal, if only to assure himself Regan was safe. Surely she’d realized by now he hadn’t left her by choice. He prayed she’d do naught to provoke Morrigan. His skin crawled at the thought of Regan being anywhere near Morrigan or any other of the Tuatha.
“Regan will forget about me, and she’ll go on with her life, Morrigan,” he shouted, his voice still hoarse from his last bout of shouting. “I’ll not put on a show for ye.”
“Perhaps, but you will not forget her. Think you I cannot feel your suffering even now? Seeing you so utterly defeated gladdens my heart.”
Though he sensed she was nowhere near, Morrigan’s words came to him through the mist from all directions. He let loose a string of curses.
“Speaking of your mortal lover, I’ve a bit of news that might be of interest to you. Do you wish to hear what I have to share?�
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Ever so casually, he lifted the water goblet and took a drink, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response.
“Nay? Well, I shall share it regardless. Regan is with child, a child you will never know and who will never know you.”
His grip tightened around the goblet. Was it possible his and Regan’s love had borne fruit? Aye, ’twas possible, but Morrigan was deceit incarnate, and he and Regan had only forgone protection once in the brief span of days he’d dwelt in the earthly realm. “Ye lie,” he shouted into the mist.
“Do I? I’ve provided you with the means by which you may see the truth for yourself. Now you shall also watch your child age and die before your eyes.”
He couldn’t get any air into his lungs, and his insides shattered into a million pieces. Fáelán squeezed his eyes shut, lest a single tear escape. Concentrating his will, employing all his self-discipline, he began reciting the saga of ancient Irish history aloud, just as he’d done before Fionn so many centuries ago. If he erred, he’d stop, go back to the beginning and start over.
Morrigan’s laughter reverberated around him. Fáelán continued with his recitation, moderating his tone and volume, giving no outward sign that he was dying inside.
Regan’s hand was still held in Boann’s as the two of them came to a stop. “Where are we?” she whispered into the pitch blackness surrounding them. Wherever this was, it held the same warm, pulsing energy as Lia Fáil and smelled of earth. A still, humid warmth enveloped her.
“Beneath Tara.”
They were in a cavern under a mountain of dirt and in complete darkness. That explained the unease traipsing down her spine. “So I was right, and the Hill of Tara is a gateway into other dimensions.”
“’Tis but one of many thoroughfares between the realms.” A tiny orb of light appeared above Boann’s palm. “Even in the darkest places, light and heat can be drawn forth. Hold out your hand, Regan.”
She did, relieved by the light Boann had created. She’d expected Boann to give her the glowing sphere, like she had with the dust bunny, but she didn’t.
Tangled in Time (The McCarthy Sisters) Page 16
