Through the Door (16 page)

They stepped through the door and into a crowded room. More than one set of eyes lingered on them as Nuala led Eden toward the bar through a maze of tables and stools. Great barrels of ale and other brews sat behind the bar, and a large orange cat rubbed itself against Eden’s legs. Eden bent to pet it while Nuala ordered the barman to point out “Old Stumpy.”

“Aye, he’s just in the corner there, the gent with the hat and cane,” the barman said, his head tilting in the general direction but his eyes not leaving Nuala. “What’s a young filly like you doin’ looking for a weathered ol’ chap like him, eh? Come pull up a stool and I’ll pour you a drink on the house.”

Nuala ignored him and headed in the direction he had indicated. Eden, looking mournfully back at the cat, trailed
in her wake. They stopped at a table in the corner, where two old men sat together over bacon sandwiches and pints of beer. A cane leaned against one of the wooden chairs. Nuala looked at the man in the chair.

“Seamus Kilpatrick?” she asked. The man looked up at her and started, then recovered himself sufficiently to tip his hat to her.

“The very same,” he said in a soft, kind voice. Nuala leaned down and put her lips next to his ear as his companion gaped openly at both of them.

“If you want to live, you will take me to the cohuleen druith that once adorned the head of the Queen of the Merrow,” she whispered. It was an unsophisticated threat, she knew, but she didn’t have time to search his heart for his deepest, most hidden desires. Everyone wanted to live.

“Aye, aye, all right,” the old man said, slowly rising to his feet and grabbing his cane. Without saying good-bye to his companion, he shuffled through the pub and out onto the street, Nuala and Eden trailing behind him. They walked through the main part of town and up a dusty side road until they came to a small house with peeling green paint and empty window boxes. “This way, this way,” he said, as he opened the door and went inside. Nuala’s nose wrinkled and Eden sneezed when they stepped inside the house. The acrid smell of pipe tobacco hung thick in the air.

“Where is it?” Nuala asked, impatient.

“’Tis in the safe,” he said. He went to the corner of his bedroom and pulled a torn and dirty afghan off a small safe that sat on the floor. Nuala watched as he spun the dial back and forth until it clicked. He reached inside and pulled out a simple wooden box. With effort, he stood up again, holding the box.

“Show it to me,” Nuala said. Eden sat on the floor and watched.

The old man lifted the cover off the box. He put his hand in, and when he pulled it out, it looked as if it were covered in red paint. So fine was the fabric of the cohuleen druith that it clung to his flesh like a second skin. Nuala could see the knots and veins in his hand through the deep red sheen.

She reached out and swept the fabric off his hand like a cobweb. He watched, wordlessly, as she took the box from him and let the cohuleen druith fall back into it. “Deardra sends her regards,” she murmured.

Then the old man spoke, and although he had given her the cohuleen druith without resistance, his eyes were sharp and canny. “I’ll be givin’ you this because I value my life, and I see that yer a woman to be reckoned with. But you should know what kind of a creature you’ll be givin’ it to. I was enchanted by her, to be sure, and I’ll take the blame for gettin’ to know her as I did. I had a wife, and three fine children, and when I wouldn’t go to live with her under the waves, leavin’ my children to starve, she killed them all. And so I did go with her then, lest she kill my brother and his children too. I became her lover, and when my chance came, I stole what’s in that box yer holdin’ as payment for my wife and children’s lives. I thought maybe she would die from the lack of it, but since she sent you, I can see I was mistaken, and more’s the pity. And though you may spare the life of an old man, I can be certain she will not.”

Nuala glanced down at Eden, who had curled up into a ball on the floor and was staring blankly at the wall, not listening anymore. Nuala prodded her with her foot.

“Eden. Go outside.”

Eden looked up at her, but didn’t move.

“I said, go outside. Wait for me there.”

Nuala bent down and hauled Eden to her feet. She opened the door to the small house, being careful not to let Eden touch it, and then deposited her on the front walkway where she could see her out of the corner of her eye. Eden didn’t seem inclined to escape, or even move. She just sat back down on the dirt path and resumed staring at nothing. Nuala frowned and resolved to get some food into the girl as soon as this was over.

She slid the box into her bag and turned back to the man, moving out of Eden’s line of sight. “Humans and greater beings such as the Merrow are not meant to be together,” she said, looking at him impassively, “as you have no doubt learned. The result is always the same.” With one smooth movement, she drew a small silver knife from under her jacket and swept it across the old man’s neck. As he crumpled to the floor, she quickly retrieved the cohuleen druith and held it to the gash. She was amazed at the amount of blood the weightless material was able to absorb. When she had soaked up enough, she put the cloth back into the box and the box into her bag.

“Let’s go,” she said to Eden as she stepped out of the house and closed the door behind her. Normally, she would have disposed of the body more thoroughly, but the sooner they got back to Deardra, the sooner she would no longer have to worry about covering her tracks from humans ever again.

The sun was once again beginning its descent into the ocean when they returned to the shoreline and the moaning, pacing queen. Nuala had risked a stop at the general store on their way
out of town to buy some food for Eden, who had devoured two apples, half a box of crackers, a hunk of cheese, and a bottle of milk. Not relishing the thought of carrying the lethargic child the six miles back to Deardra, Nuala had simply flagged down a passing car and told its owner to give it to them. After crawling into the backseat, Eden had promptly fallen asleep. Nuala glanced at her in the rearview mirror. The girl’s long eyelashes rested on her cheeks, and her mouth hung slightly open. Her dark hair was tangled and matted and her face was smudged with dirt where she had tried to push her hair out of her eyes. Her pants, which had once been pink, were now a mottled gray.

I have stolen a child,
Nuala thought to herself.

You are taking her home,
answered a stronger voice inside her.
She will not be harmed; Lorcan needs to keep her alive if he wants to use her gift. She’ll be treated well. She doesn’t belong here, not in this world, with that human woman and a father who has become too much like the humans he so loves. Someday she will thank me…and in the meantime, we will both be where we belong.

Her thoughts turned to Tír na nÓg and she drove faster, jostling Eden in the backseat as the car bumped along the dusty road. Soon she recognized the trail that led to Deardra’s shore and pulled the car over. She half-considered letting the child stay asleep but quickly rejected the idea. The young sidh-maker could disappear from her grasp with no more effort than it took to open the car door. She lifted Eden into her arms. The child snorted softly and squirmed but stayed asleep as Nuala maneuvered them through the path to the cliff’s edge. She found the golden thread again and muttered the words of peace. Then she wrapped it around one hand, and held Eden closely to her with the other. The thread had
lowered them about halfway down the cliff when without warning Eden let out a bloodcurdling scream and started to flail her arms and legs. Nuala almost lost her grip on the girl and on the golden rope as Eden thrashed and convulsed, her legs kicking at Nuala repeatedly.

“Eden, stop!” Nuala shouted. Eden kept on flailing, and Nuala had to tighten her grip so hard she was sure she would break the girl’s ribs. When her feet touched ground, she let go of the rope and released her hold on Eden, who fell onto the rocks and looked up at Nuala in wide-eyed horror. Then she scrambled to her feet and ran toward the ocean’s edge, screaming.

“Eden!” Nuala called after her. What had gotten into the child? “Eden!”

Suddenly Deardra was beside Eden and had knelt down in front of her. “Hush, child,” she said as she held out a large fan-shaped shell. “It is not as it seems. You are safe here on my shores.” Eden’s eyes were still wide and her breathing heavy, but she had stopped running. Nuala walked slowly toward them, trying to stay out of Eden’s line of sight lest she start screaming again.

Eden took the shell and turned it over. “What is it really?” she asked.

Deardra smiled. “Very good, child. It, too, is not as it seems.” She touched the shell, which filled with a clear pink liquid that smelled like strawberries. “Drink,” Deardra said. “It will calm you, and clear your mind.”

Nuala watched as Eden tipped up the shell and drank, licking her lips. When she looked back up at Deardra, her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks flushed. “Can I have some more?” she asked with a shy smile.

Deardra laughed. It sounded like a poorly tuned violin, and Nuala winced. “Perhaps later, child. Right now your friend and I have business to attend to.”

Nuala pulled the box out of her bag but did not hand it over. “I have done what I promised to do. Will you show the child Brighid’s painting?” she asked.

Deardra looked at the box hungrily. “For sixty years I have paced this shore,” she rasped. “Now I will rule the sea again. Yes. I will show this child the painting, but not tonight. The painting is in my home under the waters, and I must go and reclaim my throne before I can safely escort you there.”

Nuala felt the blood rise to her face, and she struggled not to lash out at the woman in front of her. “And when,” she asked through gritted teeth, “will this be? We do not have the luxury of time, I’m afraid.”

Deardra looked indifferent. “You have been exiled for many years now. One more night should make no difference. Come back at first light and you shall have what you desire. And now, give me the cohuleen druith.”

Nuala could see that she didn’t have a choice, although she knew there was a very good chance the other Tuatha Dé Danann would give in and ask Brighid for help if their other sources turned up nothing. She had tried to convince Brighid to forget about the painting’s existence, but Brighid was one of the Elders, who had come from the Four Cities. She was not easily bewitched, and Nuala had needed to satisfy herself with convincing Brighid to forget their conversation.

“Where can we spend the night?” she asked Deardra, who was waiting for an answer. “I do not wish to take the child back to the human village.” Eden, energized by the shell drink, was jumping from rock to rock a little way down the shore.

“You may stay in the hut,” Deardra answered. “You will find it most comfortable.”

Nuala looked at the hut surrounded by the icy Atlantic waters. It looked far from comfortable, and it seemed like a better idea to climb back up the cliff to sleep in the car.

“All is not as it seems,” Deardra reminded her, and Nuala nodded, not wanting to offend the Merrow by refusing her hospitality. Then Deardra held out her hand for the box, and Nuala gave it to her.

The queen’s eyes glittered as she lifted the blood-soaked cloth from its wooden nest. At her touch, the cohuleen druith rose into the air and settled over her matted purple hair, weaving together with the strands until her hair fell smooth and silky down her back, neither purple nor red, but the ever-changing colors of sunset. Her skin lost its green tinge and became as pure as the whitest sand on a Caribbean shore. The red veins in her eyes drew back, unveiling bright turquoise irises flecked with gold. Under the sheer white gown her body plumped, her wasted breasts filling and rising and her hips forming lush hills and valleys where there was once only brittle bone and taut skin. She let out a peal of laughter that no longer grated on Nuala’s nerves, but instead made her feel refreshed, as if she had just had a cool drink of water. Even Eden had stopped her makeshift game of hopscotch to stare at the transformation of the Merrow queen.

Without a word to either of them, Deardra turned and sprinted for the shore, peeling off the white gown and throwing it into the air. When she reached the water’s edge, she leapt into the air, twisted, and disappeared without a splash or a ripple into the water. The last thing Nuala saw was the flick of a golden tail.

“That was so cool!” Eden squealed as she ran over to where Nuala stood watching the waves. “Wasn’t that cool, Auntie Nuala?” Nuala looked at her sharply. She hadn’t told Eden to call her that, and it made her uneasy. Maybe it was just the effect of whatever it was Deardra had given the child, who was still bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

“What are we doing now?” Eden asked as she bounced.

“We spend the night in that,” Nuala said, nodding toward the decrepit hut that looked far from hospitable.

Eden stopped bouncing and wrinkled her nose. “How do we get there? I’m not a very good swimmer.”

“I don’t think we’ll have to swim,” Nuala said, walking down the shoreline. “The Merrow were once renowned for their hospitality, if you could find them.” She took off her shoes and tentatively placed a foot in the water, bracing herself for the sharp pain of bitter cold. Instead, she found the water quite warm. When she pulled her foot out again, it was dry.