Reunion (27 page)

"You ready for this?" he asked Ren as the elevator began to descend.

Ren shook his head. "No."

"Me neither," Pete admitted as they began to descend. "Not even a little bit."

"They've gone?" Trása asked. "What do you mean, they've gone?"

Toyoda shuffled his feet uncomfortably, as if he wanted to be somewhere else. "That's all I can be telling ye, m'lady," he said. "Lord Renkavana, Lord Logan and Lord Pete took the merman's jewel and went through the rift. They be taking that pesky
Leipreachán
, Plunkett O'Bannon with them, I be relieved to report. I now be on a mission for Renkavana that be mighty important. I be thinking, however, that ye be interested in knowing they be gone, before I be on me way."

"Interested doesn't even begin to cover it," Nika said, glaring at the
Leipreachán
. "Why did you let them leave?"

"It's not his fault," Trása said, walking to the edge of the bower to look down over the tree-filled twilight expanse of
Tír Na nÓg
. She crossed her arms across her body, suddenly chilled for no reason she could explain. "Toyoda couldn't stop Rónán doing anything he wanted. Or Pete and Logan, either, for that matter. Did you know Pete was planning to go rift running with Rónán?"

"He said they were going for a 'boy's night out' - whatever that means - to that pub in Draffaugh they seem to like so much." She turned on the
Leipreachán
. "Did they say anything to you about where they were going?"

"It's obvious where they're going," Trása said before the
Leipreachán
could answer. "They've taken Marcroy's jewel. They're going to get Darragh."

"Just like that?" Nika snorted with derision. "No planning. No preparation?"

"I wouldn't say that," Trása said. "I suspect Rónán's been planning this for ten years."

"You're taking the news very well," Nika remarked.

Trása smiled and turned back to face the tall Briton. "I've nobody to blame but myself, Nika. I sent Pete and Logan to my realm. I enticed Abbán here with the jewel that made access to the realm where Darragh is stranded possible. I can hardly be annoyed they're now doing exactly what I wanted them to do."

"Without you?" Nika asked pointedly.

That was the rub. That was what hurt. Rónán had gone back for Darragh and hadn't asked for her help. Hadn't even told her he was going.

When did he decide to go back and launch this daring rescue? Before he made love to me? After? During?

"He doesn't need me," she explained, as much to ease her own hurt as to reassure the Merlin. "He grew up in that realm. So did Pete and Logan. They know more about it than I ever will."

Nika looked unconvinced and more than a little annoyed. Pete, Trása guessed, was going to have some explaining to do when he got back. The Merlin turned her aggravation on Toyoda. "What else did Lord Rónán say? You said he gave you a mission. What mission?"

"That be none of ye concern, Missy Merlin. That be between me and Lord Renkavana."

The Merlin advanced on the
Leipreachán
with a threatening glare. "Insolent worm. Do I have to invoke your true name?"

Toyoda glared at her defiantly. "Ye not be knowing it, Merlin. Ye just pretending ye do. And I not be telling ye anythin'. This be the most important thing Renkavana ever be asking me to do, on pain of death."

"Why you -"

"Enough, Nika. Leave him be." Trása normally appreciated the Merlin's desire to watch out for her interests, but they didn't have time for her to get into an argument with a
Leipreachán
. Trása didn't doubt for a moment that Rónán had given Toyoda a task of apparently great import. The
Leipreachán
would have wanted to go through the rift with him - a dangerous risk given they would have to traverse the realm where his
eileféin
, Plunkett O'Bannon, originated from. Although they only needed to be in that realm long enough to open another rift, if they were caught there with two versions of the same creature, there would be dire consequences.

Nika glared at the
Leipreachán
a moment longer and then turned to Trása. "Are we going to follow them?"

"We can't," she said, although that was not strictly true. Trása could open a rift to her own world using
ori mahou
whenever she wanted
.
She might be able to catch up to them before they crossed into the other realm. She'd turn back into an owl the moment she stepped through, but it was tempting. Very tempting.

Her thought was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Echo. The pixie was in a panic, flapping her wings so fast they were a buzzing blur. "Trouble! Trouble! Trouble!"

"What?" Trása asked, trying to follow the movement of the panicked pixie who was flitting about so quickly, she couldn't get a fix on her at all. "Slow down, Echo! What trouble!"

"Merman gone! Merman gone! Merman gone!" she shrieked as she skittered about Trása's head like a terrified wasp.

Nika muttered a curse under her breath. "I'll go and find where he wandered off to," she offered. "He'll be staggering drunk from the pool, no doubt. He can't have gone too far."

The pixie buzzed about in a frenzy. "Merman be gone with Stiofán! Merman be gone with Stiofán! Merman be gone with Stiofán!"

"Stiofán?" Trása asked in surprise. She hadn't seen the refugee
Tuatha Dé Danann
lord since her encounter on the stairs when he was complaining about his accommodation. "Why would Abbán go with Stiofán?"

"To cause trouble," Nika suggested. "Why else?"

"Cause trouble," Echo agreed. "Cause trouble! Cause trouble!"

"Do you know where they went?" she asked the pixie, although she wasn't hopeful of getting a useful answer. Pixies didn't view the world the same way as other
Youkai
.
Her frame of reference was likely to be so skewed it was useless.

"They follow the face in the water," she babbled, her erratic buzzing giving Trása a headache. "Face in the water. Face in the water."

"Face in the water?" Nika repeated, shaking her head. "Gods above and below, you can't count on a pixie to make sense of anything, not even when ...
an Bhantiarna?
Is something wrong?"

All the blood had drained from Trása's face. "If Echo saw a face in the water, then Abbán was scrying someone. Or someone scried him out."

"Who would know he was here?"

"Scrying doesn't need anybody to know where he is precisely," Trása explained, remembering that in the Merlin's reality, scrying was a lost art. "Just knowing who you want to contact, a small body of water. And magic."

"And your merman cousin was immersed in the most magical water in the realm," the Merlin reminded her unnecessarily. "This is bad, yes? I am so sorry,
an Bhantiarna ...
I didn't realize ..."

"It might not be so bad. It depends on who he was scrying." Trása didn't add that there was only one person Abbán would probably attempt to scry out. She almost didn't want to admit it herself. "I guess ..."

She didn't finish the sentence. At that moment both Toyoda and Echo blinked out of existence as a song began to drift up from the lower levels of the bower. The song was sweet and clear and totally unnecessary, not the least of which because she had only ever heard the song in her realm. It was a song a greeting. A song of welcome reserved for someone of great importance. It was the song they sang when Orlagh descended from her lofty heights to mingle with her subjects.

It was the song they sang to greet royalty.

"Shit," Trása said, hurrying to the edge. She looked down but couldn't see the ground from here. The song increased in volume, the sweet music so joyous, so exultant, that it made her feel sick.

"What's happening?" Nika asked, as she hurried to Trása's side.

"We have a visitor," she replied with absolute certainty.

The music rose up in volume, as if it was moving toward them.

"Who?" Nika asked. Trása could see she was worried, but she couldn't bring herself to speak the name, even though she knew, with every fibre of her being, who approached them on this wave of glorious song. "Who is it?"

Trása didn't answer. She turned toward the bower stairs as the music reached its crescendo. A few moments later, surrounded by a horde of blissful
Youkai
, the reason for the song emerged.

Stiofán came first, followed by Abbán, whose spindly land legs were trembling from the climb up the countless bower steps to this lofty perch.

Behind them came a familiar figure, one she loved and feared with almost equal measure. He stepped onto the bower, glanced around and then smiled at her so warmly it made Trása's blood run cold.

"Ah, so there you are, my precious," Marcroy Tarth said, his words laden with equal measures of warm greetings and dire undertones. He was dressed in a pretentious flowing cloak, white thigh boots over white trousers and a gossamer shirt designed to enhance his spectacular physique.

No wonder the
Youkai
had greeted him like a king
, Trása thought irreverently.
The only thing missing from his outfit is a crown.

"We've so missed you back in the realm where you belong, little bird." He glanced around at the once-abandoned kingdom of
Tír Na nÓg
that she had filled with refugees from other realities and then fixed his terrifying gaze on her. It was impossible to judge his mood. "And look at you ... not a bird ... a queen."

"Not for long," Stiofán announced behind him, with a smug smile as he eyed off what he undoubtedly believed would be his new quarters.

Trása couldn't speak, partly from fear, partly from simply not knowing what to say.

Marcroy stepped forward and studied her for a moment longer and then smiled knowingly. "I see. The curse is not broken, is it? Just suspended for a while. That explains, I suppose, your reluctance to return home."

Trása bent one knee and lowered her head. "Greetings, uncle."

With the gentlest of fingers, Marcroy put his finger under her chin and raised her head, making her stand. He tilted her face so she was staring into his dark, cat-slit eyes. "Where are they, little bird?"

"Pardon?"

"Where are they, Trása?" Marcroy repeated, his finger still under her chin, more threatening than if he had been standing over her with an axe. "And do not lie to me, because I will know if you lie and I can
make
you speak the truth. Believe me, if you force my hand, it will not be pleasant."

"Where is who?" she asked, a little confused. He couldn't mean Abbán. Maybe he wanted to know what had happened to the original
Tuatha Dé Danann
who'd once occupied this place.

"RónánDarragh," he said. "Where are RónánDarragh?"

Trása's heart skipped a beat.
How does he even know they are alive?

Abbán, of course.
But that had only been a few hours ago, surely?
Has Rónán been seen crossing Marcroy's realm?

It didn't make a scrap of sense, and she had no time dwell on it. Hesitation would make her look deceitful.

"I have no idea where they are, uncle," she said. "I honestly haven't a clue." Fortunately, she wasn't lying. She
didn't
have a clue where Rónán was and she hadn't laid eyes on Darragh in a decade.

Marcroy studied her closely for a time, his cat-slit eyes boring into her, looking into the very depths of her soul to ascertain the veracity of her words.

Finally, after a protracted, terrifying silence, Marcroy nodded, and then he removed his finger from her chin. "Very well, then," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders in a gesture that seemed more threat than affection. "Then let us discuss, little bird, what they have been doing in this realm and when you expect to see them next."

"Did you ever see
Men in Black
?"

Ren looked up from his newspaper to stare at Pete, wondering at the seemingly random question. "Are you kidding me? My foster mother was Kiva Kavanaugh. She took me to the premiere in LA. Why?"

"Don't you remember? That's how they figured what the aliens were up to on Earth. Checking the tabloids. It just struck me that we're doing the same thing. I don't know if I should laugh or seek professional help. Any luck?"

Ren shook his head. They had every English tabloid they could lay their hands on scattered about the table of the small café they'd found to eat breakfast, but there was no mention of Kiva in any of them. Their hearty breakfast came courtesy of one Quentin P Smith who had not only lost his wallet to a
Leipreachán
but had been kind enough to write his PIN on the back of his card so he wouldn't forget it. They'd paid for breakfast and then Pete made Ren go outside and toss the card into a garbage bin awaiting collection. Once Mr Quentin P Smith got around to realizing his wallet was missing and he reported it, either to the police or the credit card company, Pete warned, the credit card company could track their movements. One transaction was unfortunate, two was a pattern, three a criminal trend. Better to let Quentin P Smith and American Express think he'd just got his facts wrong about when he'd last used his card before he lost it, than give the police a reason to start investigating a theft.

"Nothing so far," Ren told him, turning another page.

"What are the chances she's retired?"

"About the same as the chance that you're going to denounce all your worldly goods and run off to join a nunnery."

Pete smiled and turned to the next page of the paper he was checking. "That would be a ... hang on ... here's something. It's not about Kiva, though," he said, folding the paper in half so he could read it more easily.

"What is it?"

"The headline is 'Hearing Cancelled for Star's Missing Teen'." He smoothed out the page in the
News of the World
, folded it over and began to read aloud. "
The Dublin hearing to declare Hayley Boyle, stepdaughter of actress Kiva Kavanaugh's cousin and housekeeper, Kerry Boyle, legally dead was unexpectedly withdrawn by her family yesterday
." Pete looked up and glanced around to see if they could be overheard but the nearest tables were empty and the café owner was busy somewhere out back. He turned back to the paper and continued reading in a low voice. "
Lawyer Eunice Ravenel, acting on behalf of the family, offered no reason for the withdrawal of the application."