Marie-Claire smiled. "That's quite a tale. And you managed it without taking a breath."
"Haven't needed to breathe much lately either."
"So, the babies you birthed. Darragh of the Undivided is the father?"
"I suppose he must be." Brydie frowned. Marie-Claire seemed to know an awful lot about Darragh. "Are the Matrarchaí here the same as the Matrarchaí from my realm?"
"You've heard of us?"
"I think my mother belonged to the Matrarchaí," Brydie said. "I know Anwen did. And so did Álmhath and Colmán. Ren thinks you're trying to kill the Faerie."
Marie-Claire didn't bat an eyelid at that, which Brydie found very interesting. "And what do you think, my dear?"
Brydie shrugged, interested that Marie-Claire hadn't denied the accusation. "I don't know."
"Are you fond of the sídhe?"
She may have been trapped for the past decade with nobody to talk to, but Brydie hadn't lost all her common sense. She could tell a trick question when she saw one. "I just spent years trapped by one of the sídhe in a lump of polished crystal, my lady," she said. "What do I owe the sídhe of this realm or any other?"
Marie-Claire smiled. "Good answer. Would you like to see your babies?"
Come to us. Come to us.
Brydie knew she should say yes. She knew the right thing to do was pretend some enthusiasm, but she could not bring herself to muster any interest at all. "Perhaps later," she said. "I'm still feeling very tired. They must have given me something to make me sleep after the babies were born. I don't remember much of anything about the past few days."
"Then you should rest," Marie-Claire said, patting Brydie's leg. "I shall send someone in to keep you company and instruct you on the way we do things in this realm. It can be a very daunting place without some guidance." She rose to her feet and smiled down at her. "You may not realize it, but you are very special to us, Brydie Ni'Seanan."
"Why?" Brydie asked, trying to imagine any reason why this woman whom she'd only just met would care about her.
"Because you are the mother of our future," Marie-Claire said, "and for that you will be honored above all others."
Brydie stared up at her, wondering if she was talking metaphorically or literally.
Marie-Claire must have guessed what she was thinking. "You have made Partition possible," she explained.
Brydie couldn't think of a single thing Marie-Claire could have said that would have surprised her more. "Oh ... good."
Marie-Claire smiled. "And I am only telling you so you can appreciate what special children you have given us. You should be very proud."
"What about Ren and Darragh? Will you find them?" She wasn't feeling particularly proud. Just tired. And shocked. "Bring them here?"
"Darragh and Rónán? They are of no consequence now. We have their seed. You brought us our future. Have you thought of names?"
"For what?"
"For your daughters."
Brydie shook her head. "Not really."
"Do you mind if I name them?"
"If you like."
Marie-Claire smiled. "Then we shall name them Hope and Calamity. For that is truly what they are."
Chapter 46
One of the advantages of people thinking you were twenty-seven, rather than seventeen, is they acted like you were a real grown-up, which meant things that had bugged Hayley a week ago, like curfews and rules about what she could and couldn't watch on television, had miraculously disappeared.
That meant that when she returned to the house after a whole night away, instead of the fight she was expecting over where she'd been all night, nobody said a word. They didn't even wait around for her to get home. There was a note on the fridge from Kerry telling her there were leftovers inside. Her dad would be away until late taking Kiva to the set she was working on. Kerry was going into the city to take care of some errands, and then she was going to Kiva's place, and also wouldn't be back until late.
The house was unnaturally quiet. Hayley showered and changed and checked the leftovers. It proved to be a curry, which seemed a bit rich for breakfast, so she made herself some toast and a cup of tea and then sat down to eat at the kitchen table, all the while trying to make sense out of everything that had happened to her recently.
She was still reeling a little from her encounter with the Matrarchaí. They had their headquarters in Cambria Castle on the outskirts of town, although there was nothing about the building that indicated it was anything other than a well-kept historical landmark. Hayley had always thought the place had been converted into an expensive Bed and Breakfast, like lots of other Irish castles had been. Until the helicopter landed on the lawn, she hadn't realized just how extensive their operation was. Or what they were trying to achieve.
She still had no idea what the Matrarchaí were doing here in this reality, if indeed, they were doing anything at all. The only thing Hayley knew for certain about the Matrarchaí was that they had pulled out all the stops to help the strange girl who had appeared out of a jewel when Hayley rubbed it, and had asked for nothing in return, either of Hayley or the distressed young woman. Everyone she'd met at the castle was polite, if not very informative and, after assuring themselves she was well and not in need of further assistance, they'd let her leave without any strings attached. They had arranged a car to drop Hayley home and asked only one thing of her - she was to report to the Matrarchaí immediately if she saw either Ren or his brother in this realm.
Hayley had agreed quite happily to the condition. She thought it highly unlikely she would see either of them ever again, but if she did, she was sufficiently angry at Ren that she didn't care one jot what the Matrarchaí had planned for him.
But her encounter with the Matrarchaí filled her with more questions than she could find answers for and the one person who might be able to give her a straight answer, rather than the dramatic slant Kiva tended to place on things, was her stepmother, Kerry Boyle.
Kerry knew about the Matrarchaí, according to Kiva. She probably came from another reality herself. If anybody could tell Hayley the truth, it was Kerry.
The note said she was running some errands and then going to Kiva's. That was something that hadn't changed. Even before she'd left, barely a day went by when Kerry wasn't at Kiva's house. Her fridge note had said she wasn't planning on being home until late. Kiva would have any number of things Kerry needed to take care of, even if it was just preparing her evening meal and leaving it in the oven for when she got home from work.
With her father waiting around for Kiva on the set, that meant Kerry would be alone in Kiva's house and Hayley might have a chance to question Kerry in private. She needed answers, and she wasn't in the mood to wait around for Kerry to decide she was willing to talk to her.
If Kiva was to be believed, that day may never come.
The decision made, Hayley shoved her dishes in the sink, called a cab and ordered the cabbie to take her Kiva's house. The car dropped her at the gate and the driver took every last bit of cash she had in payment. Hayley still hadn't got her head around using Euros, but she didn't want to argue with the cabbie, so she handed over the exorbitant fare and then turned to face the wrought iron gates and high brick wall of Kiva's house. There were no paparazzi waiting outside, a sure sign Kiva wasn't home. They were probably parked near wherever she was filming for the day. Or perhaps they didn't follow her around anymore. Kiva wasn't on the cover of magazines as much as she used to be, Hayley had noticed, and she'd been able to drive herself to visit Hayley without being spotted. Maybe Kiva's star had dimmed over this past decade.
Maybe she'd been replaced by younger, fresher faces.
The gates were closed, as usual, and it was only as the cab was pulling away that Hayley realized she didn't have any way to open them. She'd had her own remote before the accident - every member of the family had one - but she'd not seen it since she was run over. Hayley looked around in surprise ... it had happened in almost this exact spot.
<
br /> There was no evidence on the street, of course, of the accident. Murray Symes had run her down over a decade ago. There were no bloodstains on the bitumen, no skid marks on the road. The trees lining the street were taller now and there was no sign this had ever been the place where someone's life had had been changed forever by the thoughtless act of an impatient man in a silver BMW.
She turned back and stared at the buzzer by the gate, debating whether or not to ring it. If Kerry was back from her shopping trip, she'd answer it and let her in, Hayley didn't doubt that for a second. But it would also give her stepmother advance warning that Hayley was on the way to see her. She didn't want Kerry to have time to get her story straight or be prepared for whatever Hayley might ask her. She wanted the truth and was damn sure she didn't want Kerry to have time to think up any convenient lies.
Fortunately, she knew another way into Kiva's house. There was a gate connecting Jack's property with Kiva's. Although it wasn't Jack's house any longer. He'd died in prison, her father told her when they were filling her in on what had happened while she was away. He'd had his parole revoked for his involvement in her kidnapping, they told her. Hayley didn't know whether to feel guilty about that or not. Jack had not done anything wrong. Not really. But if he had helped Ren send her to another reality, then he was instrumental in the mess in which she now found herself.
That made it hard to feel sorry for him, even if dying in prison seemed a bit excessive in the way of punishments for his part in her predicament.
The house next door had a new front fence and a children's swing set in the front garden, but the gate was unlocked. Hayley slipped into the shadow of the trees bordering the properties and made her way along the fence until she came to the overgrown gate, only to find it padlocked.
Cursing, she kicked the gate in frustration. The boards broke away with the force of her kick. Curious, Hayley knelt down on the loamy ground and discovered that although the gate was secure, the new neighbours had built up a layer of mulch under the trees which over time had rotted the wooden gate away at the base.
A few more kicks and there was a hole large enough for her to wriggle through. Hayley removed her jacket, balled it up and shoved it through ahead of her and then wriggled, commando style, under the gate on her belly. The ground was damp and she was covered in wet leaves by the time she got through, but she brushed them off, put her jacket back on, and figured that if she kept it zipped up she didn't look any the worse for wear.
Hayley glanced at the gate and realized there was no way to conceal her point of entry, and then she realized there was really no need for concealment. Once she had her conversation with Kerry, a mere broken gate and hole under the fence would be minor considerations.
She walked across the lawn to the terrace and then stopped when she saw a movement through the kitchen window. Although it had only been a shadow, it was too tall to be Kerry. Maybe Kiva had houseguests. Maybe her manager, Jon, was staying over, as he sometimes did when he was visiting from Los Angeles.
Hayley swore under her breath. There was going to be no grand confrontation about alternate realities if Kiva's manager was lolling about the house.
She crouched down and moved closer to the window, this time taking care not to be seen. If Jon were in the house, she would make her way back through the hole under the gate and confront Kerry some other time. Then again, best to find out who was in the house, first, before she decided to leave. She was out of money and if Kerry wasn't here, perhaps Jon would loan her some cash to get a cab.
Very slowly, so as not to attract attention, Hayley rose to peek over the windowsill. She could hear voices, male voices, which meant Jon might be meeting with someone or taking one of his endless calls on the speaker phone.
When she finally managed to raise her eyes over the lip of the sill, she discovered Jon wasn't alone. There were two men inside, although they seemed too young for either one of them to be Kiva's manager. She watched for a while, wondering at the identities of the men. They had their backs to her. Whoever they were, they were making themselves at home in Kiva's kitchen as they talked in low voices, so Hayley couldn't make out their words.
And then one of them turned and she saw herself staring at a hauntingly familiar - yet older - face. She gasped as the other man turned to answer the first and realized he and the first man were identical.
Hayley dropped below the level of the sill, unable to breathe.
Ren is here. Ren and his brother, Darragh.
Only time for them had not stopped. They were grown men.
And they were hiding in Kiva's house.
Did she know? Had she invited them here? Isn't Darragh supposed to be in jail?
Hayley's heart was racing. She didn't know what to do. She'd promised Marie-Claire she would call her if she saw Ren or Darragh.
But wouldn't that mean betraying them? What did it matter anyway? She didn't owe Darragh anything and Ren had ruined her life.
But he was here, and while the Matrarchaí people seemed nice enough, they were strangers.
Besides, Ren knew the way through the rifts between realities. If she betrayed him to the Matrarchaí, how would she have him redress the wrong he'd done when he sent her through a rift to the Tuatha Dé Danann?
But still ...
Hayley reached into her jacket for her phone and turned it on. The last number she'd dialed was the Matrarchaí. The digits sat there in the recent-calls screen, taunting her. With a single call they could be here.
Would they make Ren pay? Do I really want to make him pay?
Whatever she did, Hayley realized she needed to talk to him. She needed to know what had happened to her. Why he had left her there and never come back for her. Why he'd ruined her life. Hayley glanced down at the phone. It all came down to that, really.
Fuck you, Ren Kavanaugh. You ruined my life.
Chapter 47
"Annad? A word?"
Pete glanced up from watching the escape drama unfold on the television news to find Annad's wife standing at the door to the kitchen looking mightily displeased that her houseguests had doubled in number while she was asleep.
The psychologist spared Pete a pained look as he stood up from the sofa and went to speak to his wife.
"She doesn't look happy," Trása remarked.
"She'll get over it. How are you feeling?"
Trása shrugged. "Better now I've had something to eat."
Trása had spent quite some time earlier this morning in the bathroom throwing up, a reaction, she claimed, to the potion Nika had tricked her into drinking to fake her death so they could escape Tír Na nÓg in the ninja reality. She still looked a little pale, even though she claimed to be feeling better.
"Well, say something if you start to feel ill again," he ordered as they turned back to the news. They had been watching for most of the morning, but had learned little more than they'd known when Nika first stumbled across the bulletin. There had been an incident in Portlaoise, a prisoner named Ciarán mac Connaught was dead, and someone - who they knew to be Darragh, thanks to Annad's contacts - may or may not have escaped. "We don't need any heroics, right now."
"I will," she promised.
Annad had made several calls to ascertain what he could about the events of the previous day, although he had to be careful. If he seemed overly interested by making too many calls, he risked awkward questions about what his interest in the case was.
They now knew Darragh was out of the prison, and the only possible explanation was that Ren had managed to wane in and out with his brother. Now they had to find them.
And then there was Annad's wife to deal with.
She'd been up late, delivering twin girls by the sound of it, so it was mid-morning before Stella appeared again. When she realized her two guests had turned into four - thank God she hadn't seen Echo or Toyoda yet - she took Annad aside to discuss it with him.
They were gone for quite some time.
When Annad returned to
the kitchen, Stella was with him and appeared to be in a less belligerent mood. He introduced Trása and Nika as friends of Pete and Logan. She eyed the two young women curiously for a time, before offering to make tea. Pete didn't know what Annad had said to his wife, but for the time being, she seemed to accept this unwelcome invasion of her home, albeit begrudgingly.
"Your husband tells us you are a midwife," Nika said, as Stella poured the boiling water over a teabag in a mug with "World's Greatest Dad" printed on it.
"A midwife?" Stella asked, glancing at her husband with a raised eyebrow. She squeezed the teabag with more force than was absolutely necessary and tossed it into the sink.
"Stella is an obstetrician," Pete corrected. Winning Stella over was not going to be accomplished by belittling her years of hard work to become a specialist in her field.
"What does that mean?"
"I'm a doctor. I specialise in caring for women during pregnancy, childbirth and the recovery period afterwards," Stella explained, leaning on the bench to sip her tea.
"How is that different to a midwife?"
Stella looked at her husband. "Is she for real?"
"Nika's trying to be funny," Pete explained, shooting Trása a warning look. Nika wouldn't understand the danger here, but Trása would. "She's not trying to offend you, Stella. She's just not very good at it."
Fortunately, Trása realized how awkward this was about to get. She turned to Annad with a cheery smile. "Would it be all right if we watched the news on the TV in the front room, Dr Semaj?"
"Be my guest," Annad said, looking a little too relieved. As Trása all but dragged Nika out of the kitchen, he glanced around with a frown. "Where's Logan?"
"He went for a walk," Pete lied. Actually, Logan was out in the backyard trying to summon the pixie and the Leipreachán to see if they'd had any luck locating Ren or Darragh. He didn't want to imagine what Stella's reaction would be if he mentioned that.
"Will you be heading into the hospital later?" Annad asked his wife.
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