Ghost Light

“I wasn’t asking about the meaning of life,” I said.  I clenched my fists and glared at the cat sidhe.  “I mean, why are we here in Mag Mell?  Is the door here?”

I had wanted information about the door to Faerie, not a day trip to the Otherworld.  I rubbed the place where my throwing knives were sheathed beneath my jacket.  I felt woefully unprepared.  What horrors lurked within the rustling poppy fields or below the still surface of the lake?  Mag Mell appeared to be a land of peace and tranquility, but looks can be deceiving.

“We are here to see Béchuille, a seer,” he said.  “Mag Mell has long been a source of wisdom to heroes who seek knowledge.”  Torn spun in a circle and pointed away from the stag, placing the lake at his back.  “Come, we go this way.”

I dug in my heels and crossed my arms.

“Not until you tell me what I want to know,” I said.  I fixed Torn with a deadpan look then let the darkness from my nightmares leak out around the edges.  I’d seen enough of death and torment to last a lifetime and, when I let it, it showed.  “Who is this seer and what do I have to give up in bargain for her aid?”

Torn hesitated.

“Tell me,” I said.

I flicked my wrist, snapping the grip of a throwing knife into my palm.  The faerie would spill his guts one way or another.  I grinned, showing too much teeth.

“Wait, princess,” he said.  Torn raised his hands, palm out.  “Let’s be smart about this.  If you kill me, you’ll be stuck in Mag Mell forever.  You need me.”

My fingers itched to draw all of my blades and use Torn for target practice, but he was right.  I had no idea how to leave this place.  The cat sidhe was my ticket home.  I slid the knife back into its sheath and sighed.

“Just tell me what we’re dealing with,” I said.  I ground my teeth and shook my head.  “Please.”

See, I can play nice.

“Ah, perhaps you’d like to frolic a bit in the field or go skinny dipping in the lake while we chat?” he asked.

My fingers twitched and I snarled.

“Don’t press your luck,” I said.

“Right, probably for the best,” he said.  “It’s not wise to dally in the Otherworlds.  Shall we walk and talk?”

Torn gestured to a path I hadn’t noticed before and I strode forward.  His comment made my pulse quicken.

“Okay, spill,” I said, walking at his side.  “Who is this seer, what do I have to sacrifice to get my answers, and why is it “not wise to dally” here?”

“The seer is Béchuille, a druidess and one of the Tuatha Dé Danann,” he said.  “She’ll do the sacrificing, not you.  As for the latter, it’s not wise to dally in the Otherworlds, because time moves differently here than in the mortal realm.  If we don’t move quickly, you could return to find your human business partner long dead.”

“And if we do move quickly?” I asked.

“Then no more than a few hours will have passed,” he said.  “Now come along.”

If we stayed too long in Mag Mell, Jinx, not to mention my mother, would be dead and gone upon my return.  Didn’t I say faeries were trouble?  I knew I’d regret my alliance with the cat sidhe.

I took a deep breath and ran down the path.

Chapter 35

One of the amazing things about Mag Mell is that you never tire.  According to Torn, it’s part of the magic here.  Nothing ever grows old, becomes ill, or dies on the plains of delight.

I ran faster than I’ve ever run, covering miles in a matter of minutes.  Torn sighed and ran beside me, the bones dangling from his ears clattering.  We reached a ring of standing stones approximately ten miles from our starting point without breaking a sweat.

I slowed, examining the menhirs that towered overhead.  A huge stone placed horizontally across two of the others formed the lintel of a door.  Though the circle had no walls, we made our way toward the doorway.

“So how many questions do I get to ask this seer, anyway?” I asked.

I’d done some thinking while running across the plains of Mag Mell.  If I was only allowed one question, I’d rather ask where my father was instead of requesting the location of the door to Faerie.  Heck, if I found Will-o’-the-Wisp, he could tell me the door’s location himself.  No augury necessary.

“You just get the one question, Princess,” he said.  Torn shrugged.  “Don’t ask me how it works, but Béchuille will already know what you seek.  Since she is gifted with the knowledge of gates and pathways, she’s most likely to give you the location of the door.”

“And if that’s not the information I want?” I asked.

“It’s not wise to argue with one of the Tuatha Dé Danann, but do what you want,” he said.  “It’s your funeral.”

Yeah, that didn’t sound ominous or anything.  I guess I’d have to settle for the knowledge the druid was willing to give me.  I sighed and stomped toward the circle of stones.