Through the Door (30 page)

Maeve glanced behind her to see Eden frozen in place, her eyes wide with fear and confusion.

“My father is at home?” she asked Maeve. Then she looked at Nuala, “You said he was in Fairyland.”

“Is that what she told you?” Maeve exclaimed. “Eden, my dear, no. Your father has been looking for you, just as I have. He is at your house right now, waiting for you, with your mother.”

“She lies!” screamed Nuala, and Eden’s head swiveled up sharply. “She does not want you to go, Eden, she does not want you to be a princess. Remember everything we talked about—a magical kingdom of your very own, servants, the most beautiful dresses, as many ponies and horses as you can ride. And your father is there, he wants to see you so badly.”

For a moment Maeve saw a shadow flicker behind Eden’s eyes. Then it passed.

“No,” Eden said. “I don’t want to go there anymore. I want to stay here.”

Nuala’s voice was low and deadly when she spoke. “You will open that sidh, and you will come with me.”

“NO!” Eden yelled, then turned and sprinted toward the house. Nuala darted past Maeve and stood in front of Eden, blocking her path.

“Do you think I survived the war by being slow or weak?” Nuala called to Maeve, who was running toward them and breathing heavily. “I may not be able to control you, but I can still hurt you. Now, child, open that door to Tír na nÓg, or I will hurt your grandmother very much.”

“No, Eden!” Maeve gasped as she tried to catch her breath. “No matter what happens, do not open that door for her. She is taking you to a very bad man. He will kill all of us.”

“Fool!” Nuala screamed, then reached out and struck Maeve across the face. The blow sent her flying across the yard. She landed on the gravel driveway and felt a sharp spasm of pain in her hip. Breathing hard, she pressed her palm into the rocks beside her, whispered some ancient words, and then lifted her hand into the air. Stones rose from the ground and swirled like a whirlpool in the air. Maeve flung her arm in Nuala’s direction and the stones spun out of the whirlpool and headed straight for her, assailing her with enough force to make her scream in pain and cover her face. Maeve struggled to get to her feet as Nuala tried to ward off the stones. As she straightened herself, she heard Eden cry out. Nuala had grabbed the child and was using her as a shield. With a few hurried phrases from Maeve, the stones landed softly in the grass at their feet.

“Leave her alone,” Maeve snarled. “This is between us now.”

“
You
are the only thing standing in our way,” Nuala said. “Let us go peacefully, and I will let you live. Continue fighting, and I will kill you. Then I will force the child to open the sidh. This is a fight you cannot win, druid.”

Maeve stared at Eden, who seemed paralyzed with fear. Nuala had a firm hold on one of Eden’s arms, and Maeve could tell she was in pain.

“You’re hurting her,” she said. “Let her go, and we will end this. Or are you afraid to face me without a child to protect you?”

“Eden,” Nuala said as she backed away toward the house, still keeping the child between her and Maeve. “We are going now. Say good-bye to your grandmother.”

At this, Eden snapped out of her paralyzed state. She struggled and kicked and tried to pull away from Nuala, screaming, “Let go! Let go! You’re hurting me!”

“Good girl,” Maeve said under her breath. Eden was no match for Nuala’s strength, but at least she was distracted, which gave Maeve a slight advantage. She whispered a few more words and watched as the ground behind Nuala rippled and formed a small ridge. Nuala, who had been expecting flat ground and was concentrating on keeping a firm grip on the squirming child, tripped and fell. Her hand flew off Eden’s arm, and Eden made another dash for the house, now only steps away. As soon as Eden was out of range and before Nuala could get to her feet, Maeve flung out her arms, and the ground beneath Nuala fell away.

Maeve shouted once again to Eden, who was standing on the front porch, watching the dust rise into the air where Nuala had been standing only seconds before.

“Go, Eden! Go home! I’ll follow you there!”

Eden turned toward the front door and reached out her hand. Before Maeve could see if she made it through the sidh, she felt a searing pain in her side. It was only in retrospect that she heard the bang. She felt herself fall to the ground and looked in astonishment at the blood spreading in a large blotch on her blouse. When she looked up again, Nuala was standing a yard away and pointing a dull black gun in her face.

“I know you’re still here, Eden,” Nuala said without taking her eyes off Maeve. “And that’s good. That shows that you want your grandmother to live.”

Maeve looked at Nuala in astonishment. She had expected a battle of power between them, Nuala’s incredible strength and speed pitted against her own brand of magic. She had
never imagined Nuala would stoop to such a crude human weapon. But there it was, pointed directly between her eyes, and Maeve knew that the moment she started to utter a spell, she would be dead.

“That’s right,” Nuala said. “I didn’t think I’d have to use this, but you’re a stubborn, selfish bitch, you know that? You could have let her go, with your blessing, even, to become what she is meant to be. Now her last memory of you is going to be of you lying in the dirt in a pool of your own blood because you tried to keep her from her destiny.”

Maeve tried to block out the pain in her side, tried to think of nothing but Eden. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a weak, whimpering, “Go, Eden. Go.”

She tore her eyes from the gun and looked over at the porch. The child looked so frail, standing there alone with one hand on the doorknob, the other hanging limp at her side. Her golden eyes were dripping with tears that left tracks down her dirt-smudged cheeks. She looked at Maeve for an agonizingly long second, and again Maeve saw that strange shadow pass behind the girl’s eyes. “It’s going to be all right, Gran,” she said. Then she looked at Nuala, who was still pointing the gun at Maeve’s forehead. “I’m ready.” She gave the door a hearty tug. The last thing Maeve saw was an expanse of brown, dead grass and a tall white tree through the open door. Then everything went black.

Cedar listened to the phone ringing, silently willing Maeve—she couldn’t bring herself to call her “Mum” anymore—to pick up. The phone rang and rang, and Cedar waited for it to
click over to voice mail. But then she heard the ringing stop, and a thin voice at the other end whispered, “Cedar?”

“Mum?” Cedar asked automatically, and then corrected herself. “Maeve? Where are you?”

“Cedar, you must come, you must hurry,” Maeve said in a voice so quiet she could barely make out the words.

“Come where? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“No, no, I’m not. I’m at the old house. Hurry, dear.”

The line went dead, and Cedar stared down at the phone in her hand. She grabbed her bag from the counter and headed to her car. Brian, the sentry Rohan had placed in the hallway, yelled after her, but she gave him a few choice words about minding his own business and how she could go anywhere she damn well pleased.

She drove as fast as she dared through the city and onto the highway. She saw an eagle circling in the sky above her, as if it were eyeing its prey, and her heartbeat quickened. Had one of Maeve’s druid spells backfired? Had she found Eden? No, she would have said so on the phone. Cedar wondered if she should call one of the Tuatha Dé Danann, maybe Felix or Riona, but it might have nothing to do with them. Perhaps Maeve had just fallen down some stairs and twisted her ankle. She would wait until she found out what was going on. Besides, the Danann didn’t care about Maeve, or Cedar herself, for that matter. All that mattered to them was Eden.

She finally sped onto the road leading to her childhood home. She turned into the driveway and pulled up in front of the house.

“Mum? Mum?” she called, throwing open the car door and running out into the yard. Then she saw her.

Maeve was lying just feet from the small set of steps leading up to the veranda. For a second Cedar was relieved. She must have just fallen down the stairs; it couldn’t be too bad. Then she saw the blood. She rushed over and knelt beside her.

“Mum, can you hear me?” she asked, and then gasped as she saw the gash on the side of Maeve’s face, as if someone had struck her hard.

Maeve’s eyes flickered open. “Cedar,” she whispered. “Thank the gods you’re here. She has taken her; they have gone to Tír na nÓg.”

Cedar stared at her in shock. “How do you know this?”

“I tried to stop her; it’s my fault. She swore she would leave Eden behind if I helped her. I believed her. I thought I could get Eden away from them all, from all the Danann.” Tears ran through the blood that was still sticky on her face.

“What do you mean, you helped her?” Cedar whispered.

“The starstones…Kier’s and Brogan’s. Oh, Cedar, I’m so sorry.”

Cedar said nothing. She felt empty and light-headed. Eden was gone, really gone, beyond her reach. She tried to speak, but no sound came out.

She whirled her head around at the sound of approaching footsteps. Finn stood behind them, his face ashen.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Brian called me, and I followed you, as an eagle,” he said simply and then knelt beside Maeve and started examining her wounds.

“Eden’s gone,” Cedar said.

“I heard,” Finn answered, not looking at her. “I’m still not giving up. If she could create a sidh to Tír na nÓg, she can create one
from
there as well. She can come back.”

Cedar nodded woodenly, wanting to believe his words, to take comfort in them, because to believe otherwise would surely kill her.

Finn stood up, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and then pulled Cedar a few paces away. “She’s in bad shape. I’m calling Felix. He needs to get here right away. I’d take her back to the city, but I’m worried about moving her too much.”

Cedar went back to Maeve’s side while Finn called the healer. Maeve’s hand reached out for Cedar, and Cedar took it in both of hers and held it tightly. “Finn is calling Felix,” she said. “You’re going to be okay.” All the anger she had felt an hour earlier had melted away. It would come back later, perhaps, or maybe not. Right now, there was only pain.

“Listen to me,” Maeve said, and Cedar bent closer to hear her. “I’m not going to make it. I can feel the other side calling for me. I’m ready to go. I tried…I tried to be a good mother to you. And I’m sorry. I hated them so much. I couldn’t forgive him for leaving me.”

Cedar squeezed Maeve’s hand back. So this is how it would happen; she would become motherless and childless in one fell swoop. “You were a very good mother to me,” she said, “and an amazing grandmother to Eden.” Her voice broke on the last word.

Maeve tried to shake her head, but winced. “It’s not too late, Cedar. You can still save her, I know it. And you must, or else he will kill her. What the Tuatha Dé Danann believe about Lorcan is not true. Brogan did not die by Lorcan’s hand. He can and will kill Eden to take her ability. But
you
can save her. You must save her!”

“How?” Cedar asked. Hot tears were running down her cheeks. She barely registered what Maeve had said about
Lorcan and Brogan. “How can I save her? She’s gone where I can’t go. Nuala and Lorcan are so powerful. I’m just human.”

“No,” Maeve said. “
No.
You are the daughter of the great High King. I was wrong, Cedar. You are
not
human—you are one of the Tuatha Dé Danann. What your mother and I did, I didn’t understand at the time, not fully. We did not change who you are, we only masked it. We weren’t taking away your gift; we were
giving
you one. Don’t you see? Few, if any, of the Danann would recognize it as such, but a gift it is. We gave you the gift of humanity. It’s a strength, not a weakness.” Her eyes opened wide, and she stared at Cedar intently. “Oh, why didn’t I see this before?
You
are the answer they have been seeking. Not Eden.
You
are the dyad—both human and Danann.
You
are the one who can end this. Use your humanity.”

“
How
? How can I end this?” Cedar asked again, but Maeve did not answer. She had closed her eyes, and her breathing was barely detectable. “Mum?” Cedar asked. She put her ear to Maeve’s chest, and heard nothing.

“Mum!” she wailed. This couldn’t be happening; it was impossible that she could lose them both. The pain ripped through her and she cried out unintelligibly, her hands in her hair, pulling at it as if the physical pain could lessen the torture she felt within. She was shaking, and when Finn knelt down and wrapped his arms around her, she tried to fight him off. He tightened his hold and kept her from falling apart as she sobbed uncontrollably into his chest.

Then she heard his voice in her ear, and there was an urgency to it that made her glance up. “Cedar, look,” he said. She looked where he was pointing. On the other side of the
driveway, near the old workshop, grew a tall cedar tree, and Finn was staring at it.

“What?” she said, not understanding, not caring.

“Can you see it? The tree, it’s shimmering,” he said.