Through the Door

by Jodi McIsaac

  “No!” Eden yelled, and ran out into the living room.

  Nuala ran after her. “You little bitch!” she screamed at Eden, who cowered behind the sofa.

  “I hate you!” Eden screamed back. “Leave me alone!” Then she looked up and her eyes brightened. “Gran!”

  Nuala twisted around to see Maeve standing in the doorway of the apartment. Damn, she thought. She knew this might happen. This was the worst place in the world they could be. Now she would have to kill the old lady. In less than a second, she was holding Maeve by the throat.

  “What are you doing here, druid?” she hissed.

  “Here…to…help…you,” Maeve gasped.

  Nuala dropped her hand, and Maeve fell choking to the floor. Eden darted out from behind the sofa and threw herself into her grandmother’s arms. Maeve cradled the girl in her lap, still struggling to regain her breath.

  “Really?” Nuala asked dryly. “You’re here to help me?”

  “I’m here to give you information,” Maeve said, getting back to her feet and pulling Eden behind her, “not to fight you. I’m here alone. No one else knows you’re here.”

  “And how exactly did you know we were here?” Nuala asked.

  “I have just dream-walked with Brogan mac Airgetlam,” Maeve said, looking her in the eye. “And he begs you not to sacrifice the life of this innocent child. He says that Lorcan will kill her the moment he realizes who she is.”

  “Lorcan needs her alive,” Nuala spat. “She will be well treated.”

  “She won’t! It’s a lie!” Maeve said. “Brogan told me the truth about what really happened in Tír na nÓg. Brogan was killed in an ambush, not by Lorcan. Lorcan could have killed him, could have taken his power.”

  “Do you think I’m stupid, druid? Do you think I can’t see what you’re trying to do?”

  “I speak the truth!” Maeve insisted. “The story you’ve been told was planted by Brogan and Rohan. After Brogan died, Rohan spread the word that Lorcan had killed him, but had failed to assimilate Brogan’s power.”

  “And why would Rohan spread such a lie?”

  “To stop the war. Brogan and Rohan thought your people would be less likely to follow Lorcan if they believed that he was unworthy to receive the gift of the sidhe. Obviously, they were wrong.”

  Nuala stared at the plump, frazzled woman. Maeve had some nerve coming here, but she didn’t believe her story. Nuala had heard from Rohan himself how Brogan and Lorcan had fought, how the king had fallen. She had heard of Lorcan’s rage when he had discovered he could not have the one power he so desperately wanted, which was now beyond his grasp. And then there was Lorcan’s edict, his promise of a pardon and rewards for anyone who brought him the child. She knew taking Eden to him would make up for her part in the rebellion. She knew how badly he wanted to reopen the sidhe. He would not risk losing that power by killing the girl.

  “You’re lying,” she said to Maeve. “You think you can trick me? Are you that great a fool?”

  “No!” Maeve cried. “I’m telling the truth! You will deliver her to her death! I can help you. There is another way!”

  “Why would you want to help me if you think I’m trying to kill her?” Nuala said through clenched teeth.

  “She can’t open the sidh, can she? That’s because she still hasn’t seen Tír na nÓg, not really. I know a way that might help, a druid way. The others won’t suspect that I would help you, or even know that I can. But you have to swear to me that once she opens the sidh, you will leave her behind in our world. You’ll have what you want—you’ll be home.”

  Nuala considered Maeve, who was trembling almost as much as the child who clung to her leg. “What is this druid way?” she asked.

  “A dream-share. I can link your subconscious minds, so Eden will be able to see the images of Tír na nÓg in your mind, in your memories.”

  “That won’t work with her,” Nuala snapped, impatient and still suspicious. “Mind powers don’t work on the sidh-closers.”

  Maeve shook her head frantically. “This is different! It’s a potion, one I’ve used before. There’s no reason it wouldn’t work.”

  Nuala glanced down at Eden, who was watching the exchange with large, frightened eyes. She didn’t trust Maeve, but she had run out of ideas.

  “Fine,” Nuala said. “How do we do this dream-share?”

  Maeve relaxed visibly. “Thank you,” she said. “We’ll need to go to my workshop at my house in the country. I have all the supplies I’ll need there. And it’s very private.”

  Nuala went over to the girl and lifted her up by the arm. Eden squealed and Nuala saw Maeve’s face crease with worry. “Eden. Open a sidh to your grandmother’s house,” she said.

  “Wait,” Maeve said, looking uncomfortable. “We’ll need to drive, if I am to come with you. I’m unable to cross through the sidhe. It’s an old enchantment, one Brogan placed on me. I have tried to lift it, but cannot.” Nuala glared at her. “I am not trying to trick you, I swear it! I swear it on Eden’s life!” she said.

  Nuala narrowed her eyes at her, but then nodded. “So we drive. You drive. I’ll sit with the child. I don’t think I need to warn you about what will happen if you betray me.”

  Maeve nodded and said, “Just let me gather some food for Eden. She looks half-starved and dead on her feet.”

  Nuala waited impatiently while Maeve stuffed a bag with food. An hour later, they pulled up in front of the old house. Nuala had been there before, the day after she had taken the child, in the hopes that Eden could open the old sidh in Maeve’s cellar. This was also where she had first set foot on Ériu soil, many years ago. She hated the place, despite all its picturesque charm, its white siding and dark green shutters and gables. It was situated at the tip of a finger of land that jutted into the bay between Mill Cove and Halfmoon Cove. From the veranda, one could look out into Mahone Bay, past Little Fish and Big Gooseberry Islands, and into the ocean, and imagine a world beyond. To Nuala it represented the worst decision she had ever made—leaving the splendor of Tír na nÓg.

  She had been naive, yes, but she had also been deceived. She had never met a human before, but she had heard the stories—tales of handsome, mighty warriors who could kill a wild ox with their bare hands, and who wrote poetry, sang, and gave counsel to the wise. She had heard the women were breathtakingly beautiful, and that to see one was to instantly fall in love. When the time had come to choose sides, she had rallied with the king to prevent Lorcan from waging war on the humans. She snorted in derision at the thought now. She couldn’t believe she had been so wrong, so entirely misled. The humans she had encountered after fleeing through the sidh with Rohan and the rest of their small group of survivors were nothing like those in the stories. Instead of epitomizing valor and beauty, they seemed to revel in pettiness, sloth, and greed. They were pathetic, weak, ugly, and unexceptional in every way.

  Eden was asleep when they arrived. Nuala shook her awake, and the girl looked around the yard, sleepy and confused.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “We’re at the country house,” Maeve answered. “You haven’t been inside this building before, have you?” The older woman sounded almost chipper when speaking to Eden, but whenever the girl’s eyes left her, her face crumpled back into lines of worry. “This is where I do my work,” she said as she led them toward the small shop in the yard. She waved her arms in front of the door and muttered incantations under her breath before letting them in.

  “Wow,” Eden said, looking around. Along one whole wall of the shop was a long, low table. Above the table were several shelves filled with dozens of dark, carefully labeled glass jars. In one corner was an oversized armchair with colorful blankets draped over the arms. In another corner stood an old desk and a double-stacked bookshelf, filled with various gramaryes, books of herb lore, and several volumes of Irish legends. Nuala walked over to the bookshelf and ran her fingers along the spines of the Lebor na hUidre, the Book of Leinster, an
d the Lebor Gabála Érenn. She paused at this last one, the Book of Invasions, which she knew told the stories of the coming of the Tuatha Dé Danann to Ériu and their great deeds, and also of their defeat at the hands of the Milesians. We have disappeared from history, she thought, but not for long. They will know our names again soon enough.

  “Gran, what do you mean, this is where you do your work? I didn’t know you had a job,” Eden was asking Maeve. Nuala was surprised when the woman answered truthfully.

  “Well, I’m what you might call a magician of sorts,” she said.

  Eden gasped. “You are?”

  Maeve smiled at her. “Mmm hmm. I’m a druid, which is a little different from the magicians in your stories. But I can do some magic. Like making the world’s best peanut butter sandwiches.” She opened the bag she had brought and started slathering peanut butter onto bread. She handed the sandwich to Eden, and then started pulling jars from the shelves.

  “What are you doing?” Eden asked through a mouthful of peanut butter.

  “I’m making a tea for you to drink,” Maeve said. “It will help you sleep. Then when you wake up, Nuala will go back to her home and you can go back to yours. How does that sound?”

  “Good,” Eden said, and then resumed eating.

  “Tell me how it works,” Nuala demanded.

  “You’ll enter the sleep state on equal footing,” Maeve said, mixing and measuring various substances into a small pot. “Sometimes the two dreams blend together to form a new, shared dream. Other times one dream will dominate the other. It’s impossible to predict. As you drink the tea, concentrate as hard as you can on your memory of Tír na nÓg. Once you enter the dream state, you should be able to direct your consciousness to the thoughts and memories you’d like Eden to share.”

  “How long will it last?” Nuala asked.

  “Also difficult to predict,” Maeve said, “but it shouldn’t be more than a few hours.” She lowered her voice. “You’ll need to be in constant physical contact while you’re in the dream state together. To break this contact could be very dangerous. The person who is sharing the other person’s dream wouldn’t be able to find their way out of the dream. I don’t want to frighten Eden, so I’m going to ask you to just hold hands while you drink the potion and sit down. Once you’re asleep, I’ll bind your hands together so there will be no chance of the contact breaking.”

  “And what’s to stop you from killing me once I’m asleep?” Nuala asked.

  “Because it would kill her too,” Maeve said, handing each of them a cup.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Cedar stood in the middle of a child’s bedroom. She walked carefully around it, picked up the porcelain figure of a unicorn and set it back down, ran her hand along the frilled curtains, then finally sat on the flowered bedspread, a small pink and brown stuffed rabbit in her hands. She had just traveled three thousand miles in a single step, in a blur of wind and color, but somehow seeing this little girl’s bedroom in her own house was by far the bigger shock.

  So they were right. They had all been telling the truth. The apartment was empty, save for her and Finn and Rohan. As soon as they had arrived on the shores of Halifax, Rohan had called Nevan, who was already at Cedar’s. Eden and Nuala were not there, she told him, but it looked as if they had been. Nevan had also tried to contact Maeve using telepathy. There had been no response, so she had gone to Maeve’s apartment, only to find it empty. Rohan had insisted on visiting Cedar’s place himself, and Cedar and Finn had gone along with him. He stood in Eden’s room now, watching Cedar closely.

  “Is this what you saw through the sidh?” he asked.

  She nodded, unable to speak. “We’re going to meet up with the others,” Rohan said, turning to leave. He paused then, and said to Finn, “Why don’t you stay here with Cedar for a while. Your mother says, well, she is quite sure you can help her remember.” He gave Finn a significant look, and Finn nodded back, his eyes on Cedar. Then Rohan left the two of them alone.

  After he was gone, Cedar looked up at Finn, who was standing in the doorway, watching her.

  “What kind of a person am I,” she whispered, “that I could so easily forget that I have a daughter?”

  A tortured expression crossed Finn’s face, and he sat down next to her. He took the stuffed rabbit from her hands and examined it, holding it up to his face and breathing in the scent.

  “Nuala’s power is very great,” he said. “There are few of us who can resist her. Don’t blame yourself.”

  She shook her head. “Nuala’s power only works when she can tap into something true. They told me that’s what happened with Jane. So it must mean that deep down inside, I don’t…want…” She couldn’t continue, but let the horrible truth hang in the air between them.

  Finn wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. She didn’t resist. She was too tired, too in need of comfort. “No,” he whispered. “This is not your fault. I’m the one who left. I did everything wrong, Cedar. I left you alone, with good reason to hate me, to raise a child who reminded you of me every single day. It’s not that you didn’t want Eden. It’s that you didn’t want that constant reminder of me, of your pain. Don’t you see the difference? You love her deeply—anyone can see that.”

  Cedar closed her eyes and breathed in slowly. Finn smelled just as she remembered, a mixture of honey, lime, and black pepper. Then she smelled something else familiar, and sat up and looked around.

  “What is it?” Finn asked.

  “Lavender,” Cedar said. “I remember this room smelling of lavender.” She reached under the pillow and pulled out a small sachet of dried flowers. She held it to her nose and inhaled.

  “You’re remembering!” Finn said. He hugged her again. When he moved to let go, she held on to him.

  “Wait,” she said. She tried to relax her body as he held her in his arms. She closed her eyes again.

  “I remember…looking for something. I remember feeling panicked and…desperate.”

  Finn pulled her even closer. “Yes,” he said, resting his chin on the top of her head. “You were looking for Eden. Finding her was all that mattered to you.” Then he gently tilted her face up so he was looking her in the eyes. “It’s all that matters to me, Cedar. Finding Eden, and being with you. Putting our family back together. Believe me, please—it’s the only thing that has ever truly mattered to me.”

  Cedar met his gaze and felt something stir deep within her. It felt like a breath of wind coming in from the ocean, and it filled her with longing for something she couldn’t quite grasp. She tried to hold on to it, but it slipped through her fingers, drifting away. As it passed, she saw in her mind a faded picture of a small girl with wild brown hair and eyes…eyes the same as those peering at her now. “Eden…” she whispered, determined to hang on to the fleeting memory.

  The picture was starting to solidify in her mind when the sudden sound of shouting interrupted the silence. Cedar jumped, and the image of the girl dissolved into nothing.

  Finn stood up first, and together they ran out into the hallway toward the shouts, which were coming from outside the front door. Cedar reached for the knob, but Finn pulled her behind him. “Wait,” he said. Then he opened the door to find a very irate woman with purple bangs yelling at someone Cedar didn’t recognize.

  “You’re like what, twelve? I don’t know who you are, but I am Cedar’s best friend and if she’s in there, I’m going to talk to her! Don’t think that I’m scared of your voodoo or whatever the hell it is you people can do!” Jane stopped her tirade when she noticed Finn standing in the doorway.

  “It’s all right, Brian,” Finn said to the young man in the hallway. He looked at Cedar and explained, “Rohan thought it would be best if one of us stood guard.”

  “Ceeds, where the hell have you been?” Jane said once she had elbowed her way inside. “I’ve been calling you. And then I come over to check on you and this frakkin’ young punk tells me I can’t come in!”


  Cedar gave Jane a hug, feeling ridiculously relieved to see someone from the “normal” world. She tried to look apologetic when she said, “I’m sorry, Jane, I should have called. I told you I was going to be away.”

  “You didn’t say ‘away,’ you said ‘busy.’ There’s a big difference. And I’ve never known you to be so busy that you couldn’t answer your phone. You didn’t even call in to work! Don’t worry—I told everyone you were sick. So? Did you find her?” Jane asked.

  “Um, no,” Cedar said, looking sideways at Finn. “But we’re getting close.”

  Jane turned her attention to Finn. “Is this…?”

  “Yes. Jane, this is Finn. Finn, Jane.”

  Jane narrowed her eyes at Finn, who blinked and said, “I’m going to talk to Brian for a few minutes. See how guard duty is going.” He stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

  “I’m sorry for not calling,” Cedar said again. “Things have been insane.”

  Jane shrugged and sat down beside Cedar. “I’m just glad you’re okay. You are, aren’t you? They haven’t brainwashed you or anything?”

  Cedar laughed nervously. “No, nothing like that.”

  “Good,” Jane said. Then she leaned closer. “Holy crap, Ceeds, Finn is smokin’ hot. I’m just saying. But what’s going on?”Cedar faltered as she tried to answer. “Um, well, apparently he’s been living overseas all this time. But he came back to help,” she finished lamely.

  “Uh-huh,” Jane said with a skeptical look. “Is it totally weird to see him again?”

  “You could say that, yes,” Cedar said with a small smile. “So, how are you?”

  “I’m all right. Same old. But who cares about me? Are you sure you’re okay? What have you been doing?”

  Cedar thought about everything that had happened over the past couple of days—everything she could remember anyway—then shook her head. “I’m going to have to tell you later. I can’t think straight right now.”