"I have some unwelcome news, too," I said, deciding to get it all out there in the hope that we could talk everything through before dinner. "Deaglan Mór's band of rebels, with the help of the Dagda's Cauldron, has grown into a full-sized army. He has destroyed a village just fifty miles away from Tir na nÓg."
"Are these two things connected somehow?" Matt asked.
"Not that we know of," Alexander said.
That was an interesting question; one I hadn't thought of myself. I rolled it over in my mind but couldn't picture any way to connect them.
I held so many thoughts in my head that night that I had difficulty falling asleep. The weather forecast called for the storm that started earlier to continue throughout the next day, threatening to hinder my outdoor wedding. My nerves rattled with the anticipation and stress experienced by every other bride on the night before her wedding, juxtaposed with the added worry of the advancing Unseelie. Eventually the rhythm of the rain hitting the roof lulled me to sleep.
I jolted awake sometime later by an unidentified urgency that took me instantly from a deep sleep into full alertness.
"Tressa, get up," Alexander hissed; he had shaken me awake. "Something's wrong."
"What? Is someone hurt?"
"I don't know yet, but—" someone beating on the front door cut off his words. The insistent pounding jerked me into motion. I reached to turn on the lamp on my nightstand, but nothing happened when I flipped on the switch. Alexander tried the light on his side with the same result. We had lost electricity.
I felt my way around to find some clothes to throw on. Alexander, wearing only his sleep pants, didn't bother changing. Instead, he threaded his arms through the harness that held the sword on his back.
Someone tapped on the bedroom door just as we reached it. Alexander threw it open. Shamus stood on the other side, holding a flashlight beam directly at Alexander's face and momentarily blinding him. Shamus fumbled to lower the light as Alexander raised his arm to shield his eyes.
"Come quickly," Shamus said. We followed him wordlessly, rushing down the main stairway. Matt, Neve and John waited in the foyer, drenched from the rain that continued its downpour. Their clothes clung to them and water pooled at their feet. The front door stood open; the driving rain outside came down so hard it clattered when hitting the driveway.
John was ranting incoherently. Neve held onto him, rubbing his back and telling him everything would be fine. Matt took a few steps toward us.
"Stay right where you are, young man," Shamus said. "I don't need you to trail water through the entire house." Matt stopped, but otherwise ignored the Brounie. Shamus, shaking his head, headed off in the direction of the kitchen.
"There's massive flooding out there," Matt said in clipped tones. "I saw the lake going over its banks on the security screens just before the electricity went out. It all happened so quickly; by the time I got your folks out, it was already coming into the farmhouse. The water was about ankle-deep and still rising. I can't be sure that it won't reach this house, too."
Shamus came back with a pile of towels. He pointedly reached out toward Matt, who took a towel and wiped himself down without a word. Neve dried John, who seemed oblivious to his soaked state, before using one herself.
"What's going on down there?" called a voice from the top of the stairs. Keelin and Rosheen looked down from the second floor, Sophia wedged between them. I smiled reassuringly.
"Mother Nature is giving us some trouble. The lake has flooded. Not surprising, I guess, after all the rain we've had recently. Rosheen, will you find these guys dry clothes to put on before they get sick?" I asked, careful to keep the anxiety out of my voice. "And Keelin, please find a place for everyone to sleep. We want to stay on the second floor, in case the water gets higher." Neve and John started upstairs, but Matt hung back. "You too, Mattie."
"The camp… It's so close to the lake… Once it decided to go, the water moved so fast. It might've taken them by surprise. I'm sorry I didn't see much before everything went dark."
"It's okay. Go change into dry clothes." Matt nodded and followed Alexander's parents up the stairs.
Having dispensed with my hostess duties, I let the sound of the storm pull me out onto the porch. Alexander came out after me, closing the door behind him. Between the darkness of the night and the thick rain, I couldn't see more than a foot or two in front of me as I gazed in the direction of the camp.
"Logic says they should be okay. They can just flit away if they're in danger. But to be honest, my gut is telling me something's very wrong over there," Alexander said. I didn't have his gift of second sight, but I had a bad feeling in my stomach as well.
"There's nothing we can do now. We don't know what's flooded and what isn't; we'd never make our way over there safely. We'll have to wait until the sun comes up. Then we'll go check on them."
He kissed my temple as he put his arm around my waist and guided me back inside.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It took a while to get everyone settled. The lack of electricity complicated what should have been a simple task; everything in the house ran on electricity due to my pyrophobia. We couldn't even offer our guests a hot beverage or shower to combat the chill created by being soaked through with the cold rain. Shamus brought them each a shot of whiskey instead.
We rummaged through our closet, making due with the meager light from pocket flashlights, to find dry clothing for the newcomers. The more we tried to convince John to take the sweats Alexander offered him, the more argumentative and confused he became. Neve assured us it would be better if she worked with him alone. She led her husband into a guest bedroom, flashlight in hand. She thanked us again, for the clothes and for our hospitality, before retreating into the room and closing the door behind her.
Keelin and Rosheen teased Matt mercilessly, offering to share their bedroom with him. They had embarrassed him into a stammering fool before I put an end to it.
"Keelin, why don't you sleep with Sophia?" I said, my tone making it clear that it wasn't a suggestion. Sophia, already half asleep and leaning against my cousin's leg, smiled dreamily. Keelin smirked as she let Sophia guide her, hand in hand, to her bedroom. Matt took Keelin's room and Rosheen returned to her own.
Forty-five minutes from when the pounding on the front door had woken us up, Alexander and I were back in bed. Neither of us could sleep.
"Some of them were probably still awake when the water rose. Most likely they weren't caught by surprise. They could easily get away."
Alexander's musings told me that the same questions cluttering my mind haunted his. I curled onto my side, putting my head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of my head and absently twirled a piece of my hair around a finger.
"Only two hours till sunrise. We'll check on them then."
We dressed and went downstairs as the sky lightened from black to a dull gray. To my surprise, the twins waited for us in the foyer. They looked haggard, as if they hadn't slept well either.
The lake had risen past the foundations of the other houses on the estate. It stopped twenty feet from the porch of the Manor House, but it was still raining. Our home wasn't out of danger yet.
Matt joined us as we stared gloomily at the dirty, swelling water. He was less in awe of the scene than the rest of us; he had seen a piece of it the night before. With his arrival, Alexander jumped in to action.
"I'm sure you ladies want to flit over there," he said. "Call me with an update. Matt, you and I will handle things here until we know what they need, if anything, to help the camp."
"Be careful," I said, addressing my cousins. "You don't know how high the water is. Flit further up the hill than you think you need to; better to backtrack a little than to land in water."
I stepped off the porch with the twins beside me. We took several steps and allowed the wind to pick us up, carrying us with it as it travelled. I didn't have an actual spot in mind to land at; not a good idea. I quickly visualized a place behind the st
age where I had sung on that first visit to the camp. Higher up the hill, but not much different from the area below.
I plowed into a tree when I arrived, hitting it with my shoulder and upper arm, and fell to the soggy ground. I stood and pulled my hood back over my head before rubbing my sore arm. It took a minute to get my bearings. Music from a harp played from somewhere deeper into the woods. I felt irrationally annoyed, as though the harpist was responsible for creating this terrible situation.
Rosheen shouted from downhill, closer to the camp than where I had landed. I moved swiftly to find her, using tree trunks to keep my balance as I slid on the wet and slippery leaves that blanketed the forest floor. Keelin, coming from the right, arrived to help Rosheen just as she came into my line of sight. Rosheen knelt next to one of Ronan's men. He wheezed and rolled onto his side as he coughed and struggled to breathe.
Two identical faces turned to me, their eyes large with fear and alarm. They expected me to do something—I was the healer, after all. They didn't notice that he had gone quiet. I reached for him, even though he was dead. He disappeared before my hand touched him; his dead body had returned to his ancestral home.
Keelin helped Rosheen to her feet. The knees of her jeans were caked with mud.
"We'd better go. There may be others who need our help," Keelin said. We descended the hill slowly, concentrating on each step to keep ourselves from falling.
"Have you guys wondered why that harpist is still playing out there in all this rain?" I asked, breaking the silence.
"What's that?" Rosheen asked.
"The harp music. Don't you hear it?" She looked at me blankly and shook her head. She couldn't hear it, yet it kept getting louder every time I visited this side of the lake. "He seems to play nonstop. Could it be something mimicking a harp? A bird that mimics the sounds around them maybe?" I knew that was a stretch; but I was grasping for any plausible explanation. "Keelin, what about you?"
Keelin stood still, closing her eyes and holding her head high to listen.
"I don't hear it, but the trees do." The mention of the trees brought another thought to mind.
"Do you think it could it be the TreeFolk playing?"
"The TreeFolk? Playing a harp? How are they supposed to manage that?" The sisters grinned at my silly idea as we continued down the hill.
We heard the rushing water before any voices or other evidence that anyone else remained from the camp. The stream that ran behind the camp had bloated until it connected with the rising lake waters, flooding the entire area between them.
"It's gone," Keelin said, her voice breaking. "The water washed away the whole thing."
"Aye, we've lost everything, including the pozen seeds," said a man's voice from behind us, making us jump. We turned as we shuffled away from the voice, only to find Ronan standing there.
"Are there any others here?" I asked. He nodded, then sighed.
"I sent most of them home, though. No reason for them to stay here under these conditions. The ones who stayed are those who couldn't travel; the blue-sky sickness has gotten worse for many. So much water." He raised his hand to illustrate his words, letting the rain pool in his palm. "The air is dripping with it."
Ronan led us to the edge of the flood waters. Puball cloths hung midway up the trunks of the trees, but the flood had covered or washed everything else from sight. To the left, several yards away, a half dozen cloths strung together created one large canopy. It provided protection from the rain, but not all the refugees could fit under it.
"We gathered all the tents we could reach," Ronan explained. "The rest are too far out."
"I'll get them," Keelin said. "The trees will help me." We split up then, Ronan going off with Keelin to collect more canopies. Rosheen followed me to the sad looking group huddled under the meager protection already in place.
Less than a quarter of the Sidhe remained. Most of them struggled to breathe, coughing and wheezing en masse and creating a troubling sound that hung in the surrounding air. About a dozen of their healthy brethren moved from one to the other, bringing what comfort they could.
"If the air here is making them ill, why don't they flit to a threshold and go home?" Rosheen asked, gaping at the scene in front of us.
"Look at the state they're in. They can't go anywhere like this; they can barely breathe."
"What should we do?"
"Call Xander. Tell him we need all the honeysuckle and pinkberry tea he can get to us. If we run out of pinkberry, we'll have to make do with honeysuckle alone. See if Shamus can bring something for these people to eat." I surveyed the crowd while Rosheen made the call, wondering what to do first.
On the edge of the group, sitting just inside the canopy and leaning against a tree trunk, I spotted Fiona's grandmother. I approached her, kneeling in the mud in front of her and taking her knobby hand in mine. She breathed with some effort, but she sounded no worse than the last time I'd seen her. She stared listlessly out to space.
"Mistress, are you well?" I asked her. She turned, only then noticing me.
"My granddaughter…" Her voice cracked with emotion. I did a quick scan of the makeshift camp, but I didn't see Neve's friend.
"Do you want me to find her for you?" This time I looked more thoroughly. The old woman's hand trembled in mine and I whipped my head back toward her. "Are you well?" I repeated, concerned. Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks.
"She is with the others who wait for me in Purgatory. She drowned in the sudden rush of water and returned to our ancestral home." She stared into space again, her eyes dull and vacant. "Surely it was my time, not the time for one so young."
She let me hug her and even gave me a light squeeze before letting me go. I was reluctant to leave her, but she was basically healthy and dozens around us were not.
Behind the tree the grandmother leaned on lay a young man, curled on his side in a fetal position. His body convulsed as he struggled to draw breath. He didn't get far before he began coughing so violently that he lost all the air he'd fought so hard for. Beads of sweat covered his forehead. A touch of his cheek told me what I already knew: a fever was burning up his insides.
I hesitated only half a second. With no herbs, gemstones, potions, or any other vehicle to aid me, I had only my essence to work with, and that was in limited supply. If I drained it, I drained myself. I placed my hand on his chest and let the energy that fueled my soul seep gently into him. His body relaxed, his muscles went slack and his breathing eased.
His reaction pleased me; had this been a normal illness, that would have been the end of it. However, I had never dealt with an allergy like this, and I didn't know how quickly the effect of my essence would wear off. I looked out at the gloomy sky; we desperately needed the rain to stop.
My phone rang. My patient had fallen into a restful sleep, no doubt exhausted from spending a night spent struggling to catch his breath. I patted him on his shoulder and then stepped away to answer the call.
"Is everything okay out there?" Holly asked. "The Pixies are here. They're saying their tree is under water." I took a deep breath to calm myself as I looked over the crowd of sick fae. I had only helped one so far, and already I felt exhausted. The lack of sleep from the night before didn't help.
I thought about the supplies we might have at the Manor House, whatever we had would be meager rations next to the number of Sidhe that needed to be fed.
"We're in trouble," I said, not mincing words. "The camp was washed out. Most of the Sidhe are gone, but the ones that are still here are deathly ill."
"Oh Tressa, I'm so sorry. And on your wedding day!" I blinked rapidly, but I couldn't stop my tears from overflowing. We would be married, I assured myself. If not today then very soon. "Is there any way I can help?"
"Aye," I answered, swallowing hard, forcing myself to stifle my emotions. "Can you bring supplies? Water and food? We have about fifty Sidhe with nothing to eat or drink."
"Sure. It may take me a while to get thing
s together, but I'll be there as soon as possible. Is there anything else you need?" I searched my mind frantically for something—anything—that might be useful, when a memory emerged… something Alexander had told me.
"Bring cold medicine. As much as you can get. Clear out the store."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ALEXANDER
As soon as the women disappeared, Matt and I went to assess the condition of the flooded buildings. Water surrounded the farmhouse, deep enough that it seemed to float in the middle of a pond. The guesthouse, further away from the lake, still had grass visible at the front half of the lawn; we were easily able to enter through the front door.
The inside already smelled musky. Water covered the kitchen floor and seemed to stop there, but when I stepped onto the carpet in the living room, it squished under my foot like a sponge soaked through with a dirty liquid.
"It's not as bad as I imagined," Matt said. "But you'll need to replace the floors. The drywall, too. We'll probably be able to save most of the furniture, as long as it doesn't get any worse."
I nodded in agreement. We could fix the damage with hard work and money. The guesthouse held fond memories for me; Sophia and I had lived here for a few months during the time Tressa and I met and fell in love. But I'm not overly sentimental and Tressa, so far as I knew, had no emotional attachment to this house.
I splashed through the two inches of water on the kitchen floor while Matt ran upstairs to pack a bag. The window over the sink faced the eighteenth-century farmhouse Tressa had inherited from her parents. Its foundation sat a foot or so lower than the more modern guesthouse. Murky water obscured a good three feet of the Fieldstone exterior. Just as I had feared, the damage to the old house would be significant.
Tressa loved that farmhouse. She had lived there for several years after her grandmother had retired to the Manor House. If the destruction rendered the building beyond repair, she would be heartbroken.
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