Through the Door (29 page)

Maeve urged her car to go faster as she sped toward the old house. It was almost over; she could feel it. She had found a way to free Eden and send Nuala back to Tír na nÓg. If it worked, it would be worth all the lies.

She had called Nuala as soon as she left Cedar’s apartment. “I think I’ve found another way,” she had whispered. Nuala had sounded annoyed—and very far away—but Maeve was certain she would show up, and she would have Eden with her. Sure enough, when she pulled into the driveway, she saw two figures outside the workshop. Eden was sitting slumped on the ground. She rushed toward her. “Eden!”

Eden looked up but did not stand. Instead, she gazed at Maeve with dull eyes filled with wariness. Maeve felt the eyes stab into her, and she winced.
It will all be over soon,
she thought, and someday Eden would understand that everything she had done was for her sake, to keep her safe.

“Are you okay, dear?” she asked the girl on the ground.

Eden shrugged.

“Well?” Nuala asked impatiently.

Maeve looked nervously back at Eden. Then she said to Nuala, “It’s not something a child should see.”

Nuala rolled her eyes. “If you think I’m letting her out of my sight for a moment, you’re stupider than I thought. She’s going to have to deal with it, whatever it is. Now hurry up. What did you discover? What is their plan?”

Maeve spoke quickly and hoped Eden was tuning them out, since she was staring off in the opposite direction.

“I was at Cedar’s, trying to find out what they were up to,” she began, “and I saw on her bookshelf one of the seeing amulets, a starstone. It was set into a necklace; she told me it was Riona’s. Apparently the elder Donnellys have given their set to Cedar and Finn.”

“What of it?” Nuala snapped.

Glancing again at Eden, who was picking at a twig on the ground, Maeve said, “It reminded me of a similar necklace I have seen before. I had completely forgotten about it, I confess.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Kier was wearing one when she came through the sidh and into my cellar. It’s buried with her.”

Nuala was staring at her, eyes shining. “And the other stone is still in Tír na nÓg,” she breathed.

Maeve nodded. “One can only assume so. If we activate her half of the pair, we may be able to get a real-time picture of Tír na nÓg. Of course, there’s no guarantee. The other half may be lost or buried,” she said, thinking of Brogan’s body lying beneath the earth.

“It’s unlikely,” Nuala said, her voice eager. “All the bodies were searched. There’s no way the king’s body would have been left unspoiled. Someone over there has that stone. But we need the song—do you know it?”

“I do. At least, I think I can remember it,” Maeve said.

“Show me. Where is Kier’s body?”

Maeve bit her lip. “Under the cedar tree,” she said, pointing. “Please, Eden should not see this.”

Nuala shook her head. “Then she can close her eyes.” She smirked. “What, do you not want her to see her true grandmother? Or are you worried it might be too gruesome? You should have no fear of that. The bodies of the Tuatha Dé Danann remain quite unspoiled, even in death. Now uncover the grave, druid. If you are worthy of that name, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Maeve walked over to the large tree and placed her forehead against it. Silently, she began to speak to the spirit of the tree. “We have been friends for many years,” she said, “and you have done much for me. Please, I ask for only one more favor. Release your hidden treasure, which you have valiantly protected all these years. Let me see her again, and remove but one thing from her, which will only be used for good, to save her daughter’s daughter.” She waited, and felt the tree become perfectly still as it considered her request. Not a single needle moved, even though there was a strong breeze in the air. After a moment, her body began to shake as the tree’s roots shifted beneath the ground. She held onto the trunk with both hands as the ground opened up, then fell still. She whispered her thanks and stepped away from the trunk, kneeling down near the edge of the newly opened grave.

It was not deep, only three or four feet. The grave was rimmed by thick roots, interwoven so that it looked like an intricate basket had been lowered into the earth. The sides of the hole were lined with more roots, which sheltered the treasure that lay at the bottom. Maeve’s lips tightened as she gazed down at Kier, still so beautiful, so young. Her blonde hair was spread out around her, and her dress lay smoothly, as
if she had been buried in a coffin of glass and gold instead of roots, dirt, and slugs. But there were no insects or other creatures of the earth around her. All signs of blood and violence were gone. Her pale skin was unmarked, and her long lashes lay peacefully against her cheeks. On her chest, the stillness of which was the only sign she would never awake from this sleep, lay a richly decorated gold necklace with a large stone the color of onyx set in the center.

A shadow fell over the body. Maeve glanced up to see Nuala standing behind her, with Eden at her side. Eden was looking into the grave with wide eyes.

“Who is she?” Eden asked. “Is she a princess?”

“She is Queen of Tír na nÓg,” Maeve answered.

“She
was
the queen,” Nuala corrected. “I will be the new queen.”

Maeve was surprised. “Is that what you think is going to happen, that you will unseat Lorcan from the throne?”

Nuala’s face was impassive, as cold as a damp winter chill. “In case it has escaped your attention, people tend to do what I tell them. Look at you, groveling in the dirt, betraying your own daughter, and I’m not even trying. Lorcan wields many powers, but they will all bow to mine once I am in Tír na nÓg. Now bring me the amulet before I toss you into the grave with her.”

Maeve cast a worried glance at Eden, who was still staring at Kier’s body, her small brow furrowed, and then lowered herself into the grave. The roots shifted slightly to support her, giving her a small shelf on which to kneel. Up close, Kier’s body gave off a light floral scent, and her skin was supple and smooth, although there was no color in her cheeks.

“I have done as you asked,” Maeve whispered, reaching behind Kier’s neck to find the clasp. She shivered as her fingers grazed the pale skin. “I kept your daughter safe, and hidden, for as long as I could.” Then her face twisted. “And she hates me for it. That is the only legacy you left me.”

“
Now,
druid,” came Nuala’s voice from above. Maeve stood and began to climb out, the tree roots obliging her by forming small steps in the side of the grave.

Wordlessly, she handed the jeweled necklace over to Nuala, who took it hungrily. Then she looked at Maeve suspiciously. “The song—you said you knew it.”

Maeve nodded. “It’s been a long time, of course, but I believe I can remember it.” How could she forget? It had seared itself into her heart like a brand. She would always remember the sound of Kier singing the song through her moans of labor, clutching the stone around her neck as if it might save her, wanting desperately to see her husband one last time, to know he was safe.

He had never answered her call.

The stone had remained black and cold, and when Maeve had finally abandoned all attempts to revive Kier, turning her attention to the squalling infant, it had taunted her with its silence. She knew what it was, what the Danann woman had been trying to do, and the fact that Brogan was not answering his wife’s desperate call meant that something was horribly, impossibly wrong. Maeve had wrapped the baby in a blanket and laid her against her mother’s cooling chest. Then she had touched the necklace, cupping it in her hand. Softly, she had sung Kier’s song and waited for a response. She had concentrated on Brogan’s face, picturing it clearly in her mind and
trying to weave a psychic message into the song.
Your wife is dead. I have your child. Come back for her. Come back for me.

Silence.

She told herself it was war; he was fighting, or in hiding. He could not be dead. He would come back when he could, looking for his wife and child, and when he did, he would find his mistress and child instead. She would be there to comfort him, and the child would love her like a mother. He would stay, or would take them both back to Tír na nÓg.

Ten years later, a ragged group of survivors had appeared in her cellar and told her the horrible truth: Brogan was unequivocally, irrevocably dead. And by then she loved Cedar and wasn’t willing to give her up to these strangers. So she told them the child had died along with her mother, and they believed her, too accustomed to death at this point to question her. Without the Lýra, there was no reason for them to suspect that the human child running around her house was the missing princess they so desperately sought.

No reason, that is, until Cedar showed up on Rohan’s doorstep with stories of a child who could open portals with a touch of her hand.

Maeve reached out and took the necklace back from Nuala, and began to sing. The song was simple but haunting, and her aging voice did not do it justice. But the notes were the same, and her lips formed the words of the ancient language reserved for the most intricate of spells.

As she sang, the black stone began to swirl like angry clouds. Watching it, Maeve felt as if she were floating through the air. Nuala looked over her shoulder and gasped. Then she grabbed the stone.

“Come here, Eden,” she said, yanking the girl over to her. She knelt so Eden could see the stone, which lightened to a uniform gray. They all peered into it. The color shifted again to a dull brown that was slightly textured. It looked like dead grass.

“Yesss,” Nuala hissed, putting her hand on the back of Eden’s neck and forcing her to look closer. “Someone has the other stone,” she said. “Look, child,
this
is Tír na nÓg, your home and mine. Look closely.”

Maeve stiffened at Nuala’s words. “
This
is your home, Eden, don’t ever forget that. Your home is with the people who love you.”

Eden looked back and forth between the two women, then back at the stone. The picture in the stone swung about to reveal a barren landscape. The image was small, but perfectly clear. In the foreground was a dead tree, tall and ghostly white. In the background of the tiny picture was a dry gully where perhaps a river had once run. The image did not linger; soon it blurred as if moving, and they heard a voice,

“King Lorcan! Your ring, it’s glowing.”

Instantly Nuala reached out and pushed Eden to the ground, ordering her to stay silent. She moved away from them, holding the amulet so only she could see what appeared in it next. Maeve noticed Nuala’s hands were shaking. She helped Eden to her feet and pulled her close.

A voice came from the stone. It was as soft and oily as the selkie that swam in the Irish Sea. It was a voice accustomed to being obeyed.

“You are not Kier Mhic Airgetlam,” the voice said. “Who are you, and how did you come by this stone?”

“My lord Lorcan,” Nuala said with a bow of her head. “I am your servant Fionnghuala.”

“A traitor, then,” Lorcan said slowly, “and yet one who calls me lord and professes to be my servant. You answered only one of my questions.”

“K-Kier is dead, my lord,” Nuala said with a slight stammer. “I took the amulet from her body. I wish to beg forgiveness and to bring you a great gift.”

There was a moment of silence, and Maeve was sure Lorcan himself could hear the pounding of her heart.
What gift?

Then Lorcan spoke again, his voice so smooth and quiet that Maeve took a step closer to the stone to hear him. “Bring me? We have overturned every pebble and twig of Tír na nÓg looking for the sidh through which you cowards escaped. Are you telling me it is still open?”

Nuala licked her lips and glanced over at Eden. “I have found a way to reopen the sidhe, my lord. That is the gift I am bringing you.”

The impact of Nuala’s duplicity struck Maeve suddenly, almost knocking her to the ground. For a fleeting moment she allowed herself to feel like a fool for trusting this woman, for believing she would hold up her end of their bargain. But there would be time for guilt later. Now, she needed to act, and quickly. Low and soft, she began to sing Kier’s song, just barely audible. She saw Nuala frown in concentration at the stone in her hand.

“My lord? Can you still hear me? My—” Nuala looked up and saw Maeve’s lips moving, then she turned back at the stone, which had gone completely black.

“Stop singing!” Nuala roared as she advanced on Maeve.

Maeve stood her ground, moving Eden behind her. “No. I will not fall prey to you,” she said through clenched teeth.

“You will do as I say,” Nuala said, staring at Maeve intently.

Maeve laughed, an unhinged sort of laugh that made Nuala’s eyes widen. “Look inside me, if you will. Do you think there is anything in there you can use? Do you think there is anything I want in this world other than to keep this child safe? Your power won’t work on one whose only desire is the opposite of yours.”

Nuala said nothing, but continued to stare intently at Maeve. Again, the older woman laughed. “Find anything yet? I didn’t think so. I’ll tell you about the only things I’ve ever wanted in my life. I wanted Brogan to love me, but he’s dead, so you can’t use that. I wanted his wife to be dead, and she is. The only desires I have left are for my daughter’s love and my granddaughter’s safety, and I see now you are trying to take both from me. You have no power over me.”

Nuala looked down at the girl cowering behind her grandmother’s blowing skirt. “Eden! Did you see it? Did you see Tír na nÓg through the stone? Do you remember what it looked like?”

“I…I don’t know…” Eden stammered.

“DID YOU SEE IT?” Nuala bellowed, her spittle landing on Maeve’s cheek.

“Y-y-yes,” Eden whimpered.

“Run, Eden,” Maeve said, keeping her eyes on Nuala’s contorted face. “Run to the house. Use the door and go to your home—your mother and father are there.”

“You will stay here!” Nuala screamed at Eden. Then she turned back to Maeve. “Do you really think she can outrun
me, or even that she would? Do you even
know
your so-called granddaughter? She
wants
to go to Tír na nÓg. It is her destiny.”