The Stolen: An American Faerie Tale (20 page)

“Please, it's the least I can do.” She realized then that she didn't have her wallet. Reaching into her pocket, she fished out a ­couple of bills and set them on the counter, glad she often forgot to check before doing laundry.

The shopkeeper made change and bagged the food.

Brendan picked up the bag. “See you around, Gordon, me best to Muriel.”

“See you, Brendan,” Gordon said, waving.

Caitlin opened the door. “So what is all this stuff, dinner?”

“The fruit and trail mix is. Not much of a selection, I know. Normally, Gordon has sandwiches, but he was out just now.” Brendan pulled a backpack out from behind the driver's seat.

“It's fine.” Caitlin accepted an apple, the bag of trail mix, and a bottle of water as he began putting things in the pack. “What's the rest for?”

“The bread, milk, and honey are for payment.”

“Payment?”

“Aye. We'll be needing us a guide when we cross.”

“What about the whiskey?”

He gave her a sideways glance. “That's for me.” He tossed the whiskey and a bag of beef jerky onto the seat.

“Drinking and driving?”

“Oh, don't go there, love. We're nearly there, and I could use me a bit.”

“You're not the only one.”

“As a good and proper Irish girl, you should know better than to ask a fella to share his whiskey.” Brendan took a drink and sighed. “Oh, that's not half bad, there.”

He smiled at her, and she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. The last thing she needed was to distract him with her idiocy.

A wry smile crossed Caitlin's lips. “You know, you're right. I'll just help myself.” She reached over, grabbed the bottle, and took a small drink.

“Aye.” Brendan started the truck. “That's more like it, then.”

The mood only grew solemn after that.

Soon they were deep in the back woods. They'd been on a dirt road for what seemed quite a while, and now the trees loomed around them in the twilight. In the depths of the forests on either side, it seemed shadows were lurking and watching them. However, the shadows didn't make her afraid now.

This time, the shadows should be afraid of them.

Brendan turned down what could just barely be called a road. He shifted his truck into four-­wheel drive and crawled over the rocks, through the mud, and across the ruts.

The woods were deeper here, and the darkness was growing. Brendan reached down and flipped a ­couple switches. Lights on the bumper and a bar on the roof came to life. The trail in front of them was washed clean of darkness and shadows by bright, white light.

Caitlin's head snapped around when she saw movement in the shadows from the corner of her eye. “Could there be something in the woods watching us?”

Brendan sniffed the air. “If there is, it's not close by. It's possible though that we might run into trouble at the sidhe mound.”

“That's comforting.”

The trail ended at a clearing several hundred feet across. At the far end was a large earthen mound covered in grass and wildflowers. Something about it was oddly familiar.

As Brendan pulled into the glade, the truck's lights swept over the expanse of it. “Well, that's something in our favor, then.” He put the truck in park.

“What is?”

“Either the oíche don't know that Justin told us Fiona was taken to the Tír, they don't think we'll come after her, or they don't care if we do.”

“Or they're waiting to ambush us.”

“Aye, there's that as well, I suppose. If they are though, it isn't on this side. You're sure you're ready for this? No one, meself included, would think less of you if you waited here for me to bring her back to you.”

Caitlin took a deep breath and tried not to think about the whole of the situation. “I'm sure I'm not ready, but I'm still going.”

“Well then, you'll never plough a field by turning it over in your head.”

Caitlin didn't have an answer to that.

Brendan turned off the engine and killed the lights. Darkness swallowed the clearing, leaving only the silvery glow of the moon upon the grass. They opened their doors and got out.

Brendan pulled the backpack from behind the seats and dropped it on the ground. “Give me a minute, love.” He pulled something else out and draped it over the side of the truck.

Caitlin's eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, so she couldn't tell what it was.

As Brendan moved about on the far side of the truck, her eyebrows went up. Was he taking off his belt? There was the sound of rustling fabric, and it looked as though he'd just pulled his kilt off, folded it, and put it behind the seats.

She cleared her throat and looked away. “Um, what, what are you doing?” She felt her face flush.

“Putting on something a bit better suited to the task.”

She glanced back just in time to see him take a different kilt from the side of the truck and wrap it around himself. He put something on each of his wrists. Finally, he pulled a long-­sleeved shirt over his head, opened a box in the bed of the truck, and pulled out a duffel bag.

“All right, all's well.” He dropped the tailgate of the pickup and set the duffel bag on it. “Come on.”

Caitlin noticed that this kilt was similar to the other, but this one had leather straps on either side holding it closed, and it was a dull mustard color. Her mind clicked; it was saffron. Didn't the Irish military wear saffron kilts? Well, at least her eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

Something inside the bag glinted in the moonlight. He pulled out a wide leather belt that had two large sheaths built into it at the center. He wrapped it around his waist and secured it. Next, he slid two curved knives into the sheaths.

She saw then that it had been leather bands he'd put on his wrists. On each, she could just make out some kind of symbol. Caitlin had to admit, it was quite a sight. She'd never seen a warrior preparing for battle before. If it was possible, he looked even more like he was in the wrong time.

He pulled out what was either a long knife or a short sword. “You know how to use this?”

“I took a self-­defense class once.” She took the blade. “We learned how to disarm someone with a knife and use it against them.”

“Well, as weapons go, they don't get much simpler. No need to worry about being fancy when it comes to it.”

“When?”

“Fine, if it comes to it, just do what you need to do.”

She gripped the weapon. Things were certainly real now.

He set a small jar on the tailgate. “Best to keep it tucked away out of clear sight . . . until you need it, anyway.”

Caitlin undid her belt and fed it through the loop of the scabbard. After securing it to her satisfaction, she tried twisting the sheath so it would go horizontal to her waist, only to find it had some kind of swivel for doing just that.

Brendan pulled a necklace, a piece of carved wood hanging by a leather cord, from the bag and put it over his head. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

“Your fae blood should let you see through the glamours.” He opened the jar and released a rather unpleasant odor. “But just to be safe . . .” He dipped his finger into the jar.

Caitlin tried not to breathe through her nose as he applied the jar's contents to her forehead. It felt like he was drawing something. “Please tell me the smell goes away.”

“Aye.” He chuckled. “In a minute or so it'll soak into your skin and the smell will go.”

“I don't want to know what's in it, do I?”

“No.”

He returned the jar to the duffel bag, put the bag back in the box, and pulled on the backpack. “All right then, time to go over the ground rules.”

“Okay.”

“I know you heard the old stories from your Nan, but you've also learned they weren't all accurate. So, I'm going to cover everything. First thing, you do what I tell you, when I tell you.”

Caitlin looked away as her cheeks flushed again.

“No food or drink, at all. That's why we're bringing our own. Fae blood or no, you could still get bound if you partake. And for God's sake, don't make any fec—­any bargains with anyone. I don't care how innocent they seem, or how helpful. These are clever ones. They'll be masters of turning the deal so you wind up the worse for it.”

“Right.”

“Don't be offering nothing to no one, and let me do all the talking as well.”

“Understood.” Caitlin swallowed. “You're in charge.” The knot that had periodically taken up residence in her stomach began to return.

“All right, then. Let's go.”

Brendan dropped the keys to the truck in the box and led her to the base of the hill. As they got closer, she could see it was oval shaped and they were approaching a long side. It was fifty or sixty feet long, fifteen or twenty feet wide, and just as tall.

They reached the base of the hill, and Brendan produced a strip of cloth. “I've got to blindfold you.” He stepped close to her.

She felt the cloth cover her eyes and him tie it at the back of her head. His strong hands were on her shoulders as he stood behind her.

“We're going to walk anti-­clockwise about the hill nine times, but we have to do it facing backward.”

“Nine times?”

“Aye, three sets of three. Now, we're not in a race, so go slow. I don't want you twisting your ankle or the like. I'll be right here guiding you the whole way. You ready?”

Caitlin took a series of deep breaths, then nodded.

“Here we go, then.”

Brendan's hands steered her, and she found them a comfort amid the blindness. After she stumbled a ­couple times, she decided to start taking high steps, placing her feet down slowly to measure the terrain first. Thankfully, Brendan matched her pace.

Before long, the steps became part of a seemingly never-­ending chain. The sounds and scents seemed to become more vivid. She could smell the damp earth, even each of the different trees. She could hear the leaves rattling in the wind and the fluttering of birds in the branches.

Just as she was beginning to wonder how much longer it would be, her stomach lurched, her head spun, and she nearly fell over.

Brendan's hands gripped her, and she only went to her knees.

“I think I'm going to be sick.”

“Give it a moment.” He stroked her back. “The sick feeling, dizziness and the like, it'll pass in a bit. Your first time crossing can be a rough one.”

“Did it work?” She took slow, deliberate, deep breaths, trying to push the nausea back.

“Aye.” Brendan untied and removed the blindfold. “Welcome to Tír na nÓg, love.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-­FOUR

C
aitlin felt like she had drunk too much, and, as a consequence, every time she tried to open her eyes, all she saw was a whirling blur of green and blue, which only served to make her feel worse. Thankfully, after a few more deep breaths, the spinning world started to slow and the dizziness and nausea began to fade.

She opened her eyes and found herself kneeling on grass the color of a child's crayon drawing—­beautiful, but unnatural. She saw Brendan's silhouette against a blue sky. A warm breeze brushed over her, bringing the smell of grass and flowers in bloom. Memories of childhood summers came to her in a rush, of playing in meadows and fields with no cares or concerns. That's what she smelled more than anything: the summers of her youth.

“Can you stand, love?” Brendan crouched down and looked her over. “Well, you look as well as can be expected. Come on. Let's get you to your feet.”

Caitlin stared at him. It was still Brendan, but there were definite, if subtle, changes. His scars were not so prominent. His shoulders looked broader, which was saying something. His jawline was strong, and his eyes had taken an almost shifting, electric blue color. Just beneath their surface, she could see something burning. It was a fire that, she knew, if let loose, could burn this whole land to ash.

Brendan must've noticed her reaction—­not that she was trying to hide it.

“Things can take a different look here,” he said, “but you can't let yourself get pulled in or distracted by it.”

Caitlin just nodded.

“Come on, then.” He stood and offered her his hand.

She took it and he pulled her to her feet. Her legs were a little unsteady, but she was able to stand. Brendan's arm went around her waist and kept her from wobbling.

“I'm okay, just give me a second.” Each passing moment eased the disorientation a little more.

They were standing in a clearing similar to the one they'd been in moments before, but there were a few differences. The first, and most obvious, was that it was now daytime, near noon from what she could tell. In addition, it was spring here, as opposed to the autumn they'd left behind. Like the green of the grass, every color appeared much more vivid. The leaves, the flowers, the trees, even the clouds and the sky were the right colors, but unnatural in their brightness and depth. This place appeared more real than the world they'd left behind. She felt a bit like Dorothy leaving the black and white of Kansas for the Technicolor of Oz.

“It's quite a thing, isn't it?” Brendan asked.

“Quite a thing,” was all Caitlin could manage for a reply. She was actually here, in Tír na nÓg, the land of eternal youth, the place between shadow and light. In a real sense she was also home, or a piece of her was, anyway.

“Let's get moving. It'll help.” Brendan used the arm that was still around her waist to urge her along.

She complied, and they crossed the meadow. Behind them, as she suspected, was a large hill, the twin to the one they used to get here. Sounds and flashes of movement came from the woods around them. Caitlin scanned the area and realized her senses were improved. Her eyesight, which had been average, was now picking out minute details from a great distance. The sounds were clear and easy to distinguish. However, it all just served to feed a sense of paranoia.

“Plenty of eyes watching us now,” Brendan said as he led the way down a well-­worn path away from the mound. “Stay on the trail. We're in the noon lands now, but don't let that fool you.”

Before long, Caitlin was walking on her own, following behind Brendan.

“So, where are we going?” She followed him up and over another rise.

He didn't turn around. “Like I said, we're going to need us a guide. For that we need to go to the faire and see if we can bargain us one.”

“Fair?”

“It's the faerie marketplace. We shouldn't have any trouble finding someone who knows something and can take us where we need to go. Likely as not, it'll be a leprechaun.”

Caitlin opened her mouth.

“No, they don't have any gold. Fecking Disney, they did a number on them with that damned movie. Darby O'Gill, my arse.”

“Oh.” Caitlin tried to bite back a chuckle. “So, if there's no truth to it, where'd the idea come from?”

“Leprechauns are cobblers and keepers of treasure.” Brendan raised his hand, and Caitlin stayed silent. “To the fae, gold is pretty, but information and secrets, that's the real currency of the fae.”

“So, if anyone knows anything, it'll be the faerie information brokers and busybodies.”

“That's the idea,” Brendan said. “You should know though, they hate being called faeries. It's like calling you an ape. They prefer fae.”

Caitlin considered that. Political correctness even in Tír na nÓg.

Tiny shadows leapt from branch to branch in the trees around them, and things scurried around in the ground growth. That's when she noticed that the trees seemed to have faces on their trunks. Each bore a serene expression formed of knots and irregularities in the bark.

She stopped in her tracks.

Brendan halted midstep and turned around to look at her.

“You said I shouldn't eat or drink anything.” She fought back the panic that was trying to claw its way up her spine. “Fiona's been here almost a day, she'd be hungry—­”

“Aye, I thought about that as well.”

“You did? When did you plan on telling me?”

He lifted his hands. “Easy, love. If the oíche planned on giving her over to someone, they wouldn't be giving her any of the local stuff.”

She considered his words.

“They wouldn't want to risk her being bound here, would they? But, if they did, we'll get something at the faire to break the binding.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Of course, it may not matter. The fae blood you passed on to her might protect her anyway.”

“You promise?”

Brendan's face went serious. “Aye, I promise.”

“Okay. I trust you,” she said, then thought, Don't make me regret it.

Brendan opened his mouth as if he was going to say something. Then, thinking better of it, he turned back around and continued walking.

Caitlin shook her head and followed.

They walked in silence, the trail leading them up and down several more hills. Caitlin became aware of how out of shape she was. Occasionally, she considered taking off her jacket, but each time, a breeze of cool air made her reconsider.

“Brendan,” Caitlin said between breaths. “Do you get the feeling we're being followed?”

He didn't answer or even look back.

“Brendan?”

Again, no response. Caitlin increased her pace and reached out a hand to grab his shoulder, but as she touched him, he sprinted into the trees and vanished into the shadows.

Caitlin stopped, frozen in place, her arm still extended. She heard no sound, only the rustling leaves on the cool breeze. She couldn't believe he'd abandon her, not now. Slowly, she looked around. She touched the handle of the knife at her back in what she hoped was a casual movement.

After several long seconds, she started to wonder if he really had left her.

“Let me go!” shouted someone from the woods.

The voice sounded like a young girl. Caitlin remembered the oíche and gripped the knife.

Brendan emerged from the woods holding a girl, perhaps eight years old at most, by the back of a coppery sundress. The girl was kicking and protesting, but Brendan held her tight.

“Sorry, love,” Brendan said. “I had to move, brownies are fast things.”

“Let me go! I didn't do anything!” the brownie protested. She had a mess of blond hair, and her eyes were large and all green. Her ears grew into long, pointed tips, vanishing into her hair and emerging at the back of her head. She tried to kick Brendan with dirty bare feet.

“Brendan, what are you doing?” Caitlin asked.

“She was following us,” Brendan said. “Weren't you?”

The brownie's mouth moved as she was going to say no, but nothing came out.

“Aye, as I thought.” Brendan looked at Caitlin. “Fae can mislead you, but they can't say something outright false.”

The brownie's huge green eyes were wet, and they pleaded with Caitlin. She could see trails where tears had washed dirt from the brownie's face.

“Why were you following us?” Brendan shook the girl. “Did the oíche put you up to it?”

The brownie started crying.

“Brendan, you're scaring her,” Caitlin said. “Put her down.”

“Are you daft? You don't know what a chore it was to catch her in the first—­”

“I said, put her down.”

Brendan and Caitlin stared at each other. Finally, his eyes still on Caitlin, Brendan set the brownie down.

The brownie made to run, but Brendan hadn't let go of her dress.

“No, you don't,” he said.

“Please, don't hurt me,” the brownie said between quiet sobs.

Caitlin knelt down and wiped the tears from the brownie's face. “We're not going to hurt you.”

Brendan was about to say something, but Caitlin gave him a look and he stayed silent.

The brownie sniffled and wiped her nose with a hand. “I wasn't doing nothing, I just saw you and wondered what you were doing. That's all.”

Caitlin smiled. “We believe you.”

The brownie's eyes went toward Brendan, but she didn't look at him. “He doesn't.”

“Sure he does,” Caitlin said. “Don't you, Brendan?”

“Oh, aye.” He didn't even try to sound sincere.

Caitlin slowly reached out to brush aside some of the brownie's tangled blond hair. Something glinted in the girl's hair, and Caitlin's stomach lurched when she saw the shining silver barrette with a bright green clover of cut glass.

“Where did you get that?” Caitlin asked.

“It's mine!” The brownie's hand went to her hair. She tried to back up, but Brendan held tight.

“What is it?” Brendan asked.

“That's Fiona's barrette.”

“I found it!” The brownie struggled uselessly against Brendan's grip. “That makes it mine, squares and fair! You can't have it!”

“You're sure?” Brendan asked Caitlin.

Caitlin nodded. “Nana gave it to me when I was little, and I gave it to Fiona on her last birthday.”

Now Brendan knelt down, looked the faerie straight on, and spoke, his voice low and gentle. “We know you didn't you take it, love. Just tell us where you found that shiny.”

The brownie eyed Brendan, then looked to Caitlin.

“Please,” Caitlin said.

“She was sleeping.” The brownie's face became a little pinched. “The bad ones were carrying her, and I saw it fall.”

Brendan and Caitlin shared a look, then Brendan scanned the area.

“They're gone now,” the brownie said.

“Could she be helping them?” Caitlin asked in a whisper.

“I don't help the bad ones!” The brownie stomped her foot.

“Please, that was my little girl you saw.” Caitlin struggled to keep her voice calm. “The bad ones took her, and we're here to take her home.”

The brownie eyed Caitlin and raised a protective hand to the barrette.

“Can I please have that—­?”

“Caitlin!” Brendan's voice caused both Caitlin and the brownie to jump. “Remember what I said.”

The brownie scowled at Brendan. “I don't like him.” She smiled at Caitlin. “But you're nice, so I'll trade you for it.”

Caitlin felt a surge of elation, and she reached into her jeans pocket. “Thank you, I don't have much with me, but—­”

“I like your hair,” the brownie said. “It's very pretty, and almost the same color as my dress.”

“Caitlin,” Brendan growled.

“Give me a knife,” Caitlin said without looking from the brownie.

“You don't know what you're—­”

“Never mind.” Caitlin drew out the knife he'd given her.

“Bane!” the brownie screamed and cowered. “That's bad, you can't have that here!”

Caitlin tucked the knife back out of sight and showed her hands. “I'm sorry, it's okay. See, I put it away.” She leaned close to Brendan and spoke in a whisper. “Can you cut some and keep your knife out of sight?”

Brendan didn't answer; his eyes were burning and his jaw was clenched.

“Brendan, please.”

After a moment, Brendan cursed under his breath, but then a moment later there was the sound of hair being cut. He held out Caitlin's hair to the brownie. “You agreed to the trade. That shiny there, for this hair.”

The brownie held a hand out.

“But you must also promise that you'll keep it as a treasured possession,” Brendan said.

The brownie didn't move. “And you'll let me go?”

“Aye,” Brendan said.

Caitlin didn't dare to breathe.

The brownie pulled the barrette free, set it in Brendan's hand, and took the hair.

Brendan let go of the brownie's dress.

There was a blur of movement, a rush of air, and the brownie was gone.

Caitlin grabbed the barrette from Brendan. “Thank you, I—­”

Brendan wheeled on Caitlin. “Are you out of your fecking mind? What did I say? No bloody bargains!”

“I couldn't let—­”

“You should've let me deal with it! Now there's a fae with a piece of you wandering about, isn't there?”

Caitlin could feel the heat of his anger and see the fury in his eyes, but she didn't back down. “You don't understand.”

“No, you don't understand.” He pointed at the barrette. “You think it were just happenstance that the oíche didn't notice it fall? Or that it just happened to be where a curious brownie would see it?”

Caitlin felt her stomach drop. “But—­”