Emerald Isle (13 page)

Birdie watched as her two older sisters raced off toward the driveway. She heard her car start and tear away.

If this works
, she thought,
I won’t force Anastasia to do anything she doesn’t want to do again. I’ll even call her Stacy. Perhaps.

Birdie paced, nervously glancing at the clock through the kitchen door every fifteen seconds. She wondered how much longer her guests would sleep, how much longer Anastasia could survive the Web of Wyrd without losing her mind, and how much longer she could endure this night.

She caught a glimpse of the locket in the reflection of the back door as she passed it. She paused, focusing on what it could mean.

Where had it come from? She didn’t recall owning any such piece. Gently, she raised the trinket to examine it more closely.

Why did it seem so familiar?

Birdie clicked open the latch and saw a watch face tucked neatly inside. Instantly, a sharp bell rang in her mind’s eye. A far-off memory she couldn’t quite pull to the surface, but it was there nonetheless.

This locket was important. But why?

Then, like a whisper on the wind, she heard the call of her granddaughter.

Birdie, if you can hear me, help.

The voice was urgent, desperate, and fearful. Birdie swung her head toward the forest. She inched forward, then walked her eyes all over the house. She saw nothing in the windows, no light, no sign of life.

No more voices.

Had she really heard it? Or was it a trick? More fairy fire to distract her from bringing Anastasia home? What did they want with her, anyway?

Frustrated, she sat down on the stoop hard, basil still clutched in her palm. She cradled the locket in both hands, put it to her third eye, and focused all her energy, all her strength, all her love onto this carved piece of metal. She concentrated. She envisioned Anastasia home, here with her.

Eyes closed tight, hands locked around the necklace, Birdie imagined the face of her granddaughter, the face of the Seeker, and whispered a prayer to the wind. To the stars. To the gods.

In the distance, a crow cawed.

“What do you mean, you can’t send me back? You have to send me back!”

Danu said, “You’ve disrupted the delicate fabric of your history. You caused a ripple in the web.”

“So unripple it!”

Danu chewed her lip. “I’m not sure how.”

“I can’t believe this. You’re not sure how? You’re a goddess, for crying out loud.” I flipped my frustration over to Badb. “And you think
I’m
not worthy of my title? Give me a break.”

Danu said, “You don’t understand—this has never happened before.”

“Never happened before? Seriously?”

Badb said, “Well, there was that one time, Danu.”

Danu’s worried face took on a reflection of nostalgia. “Oh, yes.” She looked at me. “She was a Guardian.”

“Great.” I slapped my hands together. “Who was it? What did you do?”

Danu looked away. “Her name was Amelia Earhart.”

Amelia Earhart. The first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic, who disappeared somewhere over the Pacific in 1937, never to be seen or heard from again. “Oh my God. Oh my God.” I was vaguely aware that the incessant repetition of words made me sound like a parrot, but I didn’t care. I slumped against the wall. Thor trotted over to me and clamped his jaw on my skirt.

Badb said, “Don’t despair. We can find a way, in time.”

I marched toward her, wrestling myself away from the dog. “In time? You’ve had, like, five thousand years to iron out the kinks in this rabbit hole.”

Thor tugged on my skirt again, causing my sword to jingle.

“Not now, boy.” I turned to Danu. “How will I find the cauldron if I can’t get back?”

“I suppose you wouldn’t.”

I started pacing, clutching the maps tight in my hand.
Oh, Birdie, I swear if you get me out of this, I’ll be a better witch. I’ll go on any ridiculous quest you ask me to.

I stopped. A sinking feeling settled in my gut. “Mom,” I whispered.

Thor barked impatiently and pawed at my skirt.

“Yes?” Danu asked.

“Not you. My mother. I have to get to her. If I don’t show up at the council hearing, they won’t release her.”

Apparently fed up with getting the brush-off, Thor flung his head back, reared up like a stallion, and howled loudly enough to pierce an eardrum. The floor shook with force when he landed. Even Badb jumped.

I twirled to face him. “What is it?”

He looked at me like he wanted to whiz all over my shoes, then charged from the room.

Danu, Badb, and I glanced at each other. Then we shot after Thor.

We found him standing in the great hall of the palace—a room large enough to park a yacht in—in front of a larger-than-life portrait of Danu. It looked eerily similar to the one hanging in Birdie’s house. Thor sat down, harrumphed, then cocked his head, as if wondering if I was smart enough to figure out what he was trying to tell me.

“Do you think it’ll work?” I asked him.

He grumbled loudly, then pawed at the carpet. A display I deciphered as,
You got a better idea?

I ruffled his ears, kissed his big snout, and said, “Good job.”

He pranced up to the painting proudly and waited.

I turned to Badb and Danu. “You brought me here through the painting on our end; let’s see if I can go home through it on yours.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Danu said.

“I’ll give it a go,” said Badb.

I turned toward the huge frame and tucked the maps under my arm. I stepped forward, put one hand on Thor’s collar, and glued the other to my sword.

Behind me, I heard the goddesses chant. My eyes were squeezed shut, my mind focused on home, and my thoughts trained on Birdie.

If anyone had the talent to bring me back, it was her.

Birdie’s sisters, having returned from cutting the hair of the harlot, completed the spell and watched as Birdie brought the locket to her head for a third time.

This time, she chanted to the goddesses, still clinging to the image of her granddaughter in her head and the will to bring her home in her heart.

Then she heard a rustling in the woods.

I felt as if I had been stuck in a commercial dryer on the spin cycle for about three days. But whatever wormhole we had traveled through, one thing was certain when I opened my eyes.

I knew these woods.

Thor did too, judging by the manner in which he gleefully pranced around, peeing on every branch that brushed against his hind legs.

I ran my hands up and down my body to make sure I was intact. Two hands, two arms, ten digits…wait…what was this?

The locket was hanging from my neck.

But how? I had given it to Birdie back in the Web of Wyrd.

Thor lifted his big snout high into the air, zeroing in on a whiff of something.

I sidled up next to him. “What do you smell, big man?”

Then I caught a hint of it too. The aroma of autumn—nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice, ginger—the scent of Lolly’s award-winning apple cake.

It smelled like home.

I raced through the forest, Thor darting ahead of me. Dark as it was, I had years of experience navigating these woods day and night. It wouldn’t be long before I arrived at the Geraghty Girls’ Guesthouse. The trail I was on would eventually spill into a clearing that butted up against the boundary line. The emotions coursing through my body then left me fatigued. I was bursting with anticipation, euphoria, and the simple joy of feeling my feet on familiar soil. Where leaves were green, cages didn’t fly away, and lightning bugs wouldn’t grow thumbs. I was so elated, I actually stopped to kiss my favorite oak tree.

Which was a mistake.

When I turned to catch up with Thor, she was hovering right in front of my face.

“Ah!” I clutched my heart. “Don’t do that. What is wrong with you? Don’t you know you’re not supposed to sneak up on people?”

The snow-white apparition fluttered a foot off the ground, her blue eyes communicating incredible disappointment in me. She just bobbed in the air like a buoy, waiting for me to say something.

“All right, look. You were absolutely spot-on about everything. I’m sorry I didn’t heed your warnings.”

She bloated her frame, and I could see that the area where her mouth was supposed to be was moving, but I couldn’t hear a thing.

“Um, I can’t hear you. If you’re trying to tell me something, you should know there’s no sound coming from your lips.”

She cast her eyes down, annoyed, then spun around briefly. When she faced me again, I could hear her perfectly.

“The council awaits your arrival, in the castle you shall stay; but beware of the wrath of a rival, and the one who will betray.”

Again with the maddening riddles.

“Who? Who is the rival? Who will betray? Is it one of the four corners? Is it the Mage? Who is the Mage, anyway?”

She seemed pleased that I was interested in her brainteaser this time, but it didn’t do any good. She evaporated in a puff of smoke.

Dammit. What was her problem, anyway? Why couldn’t she just get to the point like every other spirit who had a message for me?

I tramped through the woods for a few more minutes, until I saw the glow of the backlight of the Geraghty Girls’ Guesthouse.

I spotted Thor leaning affectionately against Fiona. Lolly was setting up food and water for him near the back step, next to a rug that was rolled up on the lawn for some inexplicable reason.

And then I saw Birdie. She was searching for me with her eyes, scanning the field, the woods, and beyond.

My heart lurched at the sight of her. The concern on her face read like a road map to a painful place. A place where she had almost lost everything. It reminded me of the tortured little girl she’d been at the Academy. So very brave, yet so lonely in a world that didn’t think she belonged.

But I knew better. And now, I knew her better.

I wanted to burst into tears, but I didn’t dare reveal to her that I was relieved. That I had been, just minutes before, more afraid than I had ever been in my entire life. Because I knew now what she had been trying to teach me
all these years. That it is important to be strong, courageous, and true to yourself, no matter what the rest of the world thinks. That the greatest mistakes in life are not the ones we make, but the ones that never get made because we are too afraid to try.

After my experience in the web, I understood that all she ever wanted for me was to believe in myself. To have the confidence to face life’s obstacles head-on, because dodging them only makes the journey more treacherous. She knew the path I would travel long before I did, and she wanted me to be prepared.

My role in this family, in this world, was bigger than me. More significant than I had ever imagined. If I could use that role to make a difference—however great or small—in people’s lives, then I had no other choice but to follow the path, wherever it would lead.

I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders back, and straightened my sword.

Then I stepped out of the shadows and into my destiny.

The Reckoning

In old suffering that held you long paralyzed, you find new keys. When your mind awakens, your life comes alive and the creative adventure of your soul takes off. Passion and compassion become your new companions.

—John O’Donohue