Come for Gary. Gary, who had flung himself on my sword and of whom I hadn’t thought since. All the cold calm rushed out of me and I scrambled to hands and knees, already running before I had my feet under me. Up and over low rolling hills, nails digging in the earth to give me purchase when I lost balance, all the way to the Lia Fáil, where Gary lay like Christ on the cross, arms flung wide and face to the sky.
Unbloodied, breathing and chortling. I tripped over my own feet, collapsed on top of him and started hitting his shoulders as tears streamed down my face. I honestly couldn’t talk, my rage and fear and relief so tangled together that even hiccuping sobs were almost more than I could manage. My gut roiled so hard I thought I’d throw up, and almost wished I would. Something had to give, and puking up bile sounded like a necessary release after the ten minutes I’d just had. My body spasmed with shivers, and the fists I thumped against Gary’s shoulders were pathetic in their lack of strength.
Gary sat up, pushed me upright, too, and caught my wrists at his shoulders so I’d stop hitting him. I had nothing left to fight him with. I fell forward bonelessly, the top of my head against his chest, and heaved sobs. He stayed quiet a minute or two, waiting for me to pull it together, but I couldn’t.
Eventually he murmured, “I know you told me not to do anything like that again, darlin’, but you were gettin’ your ass kicked. I could see yer ma and the others out there, stuck on the other side of the power circle, and I thought, hey, banshees, they gotta come warn you when you’re about to die, right? An’ take away the body, maybe, I forget if they do that. So I figured their raison d’être might overrule the power circle and that would get ’em in here. I knew Sheila’d help you then, if she could. So I threw myself on the sword.” He chuckled. “Never thought I’d say that and mean it literally. Your mom knocked me sideways before goin’ after you. Made sure I didn’t impale myself. Woman’s got a tackle like a linebacker, doll. Must run in the family.”
I’d stopped sobbing somewhere during the explanation, and had lifted my head to stare at him with hollow-feeling eyes. His hopeful smile with the last words made me feel like I should smile in return, but I couldn’t make it there. I’d run past the end of my resources and then had what was left dragged out and kicked across the lawn. Nothing was left. Gary’s expression gentled even further and he stood without letting me go, hugging me against his broad chest. “S’okay, darlin’. It’s all gonna be okay. I got a lot to tell you, y’know? A big ol’ adventure, and also that fight at Knocknaree.”
A laugh burst out and died again just as fast. “If your St. Patrick’s Day weekend was a bigger adventure than fighting at Knocknaree…” I had no idea how to finish that, but at least he’d made me smile.
“There’s my girl.” Gary kissed the top of my head, took my hand in his and put them both atop the Lia Fáil.
We shot up through the top of the world.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Wednesday, March 22, 3:14 p.m.
The switchback on Croagh Patrick was every bit as bad the second time as it had been the first. This time, however, I was wearing lightweight tennies, not heavy stompy boots, which helped. It was too warm for the long leather coat I had on, but it had—bizarrely—been whole again when Gary and I returned from the Lower World. I didn’t know if killing the Morrígan had undone her most recent magics, or if I’d somehow brought the idea of the coat whole and well back with me and imposed that on the real thing. Whatever the reason, I was so pleased I pretty much hadn’t taken the coat off since discovering its wholeness.
I also pretty much hadn’t stopped eating since we left the Lower World. I stopped halfway up the switchback and defiantly ate two breakfast bars and the half pint of milk I’d been lugging just for that purpose. Defiantly, because Méabh had forbidden me to eat, last time I’d climbed this mountain. Then I went the rest of the way up, and wasn’t surprised to find the mountaintop deserted save one person.
My cousin Caitríona O’Reilly, the Irish Mage. She stood where Méabh had once stood, both hands wrapped loosely around a spear two feet taller than she was. She looked like some odd new version of a Native warrior: pale-skinned, fire-engine-red-haired, wearing a hand-knitted cream sweater two sizes too large and a short black skirt over black leggings and boots as stompy as the ones I often wore. It worked: she exuded a certain confident power as she gazed toward the distant western waters. Her voice, clear and certain, carried back to me: “She was right, you know.”
“Was she? About what?” I joined her and offered a breakfast bar. I had two boxes of them with me, and it was nice to share.
Cat took the bar but didn’t open it. “About the darkness on the horizon. About the things coming for the daughters of Méabh.”
My appetite vanished. I studied the ocean, then shook my head. “I don’t see the future unless someone else makes me, I guess. I believe you, but I’m just as happy to not see it looming.”
“I hope it stays looming long enough for me to learn my duties.” Caitríona sat and I joined her. She opened her breakfast bar and took a bite before saying, “You lied to me, down there.”
“Yeah.”
She snorted, amused. “You’re supposed to apologize.”
“Like hell. Gary and I barely made it out. I’m glad I didn’t have to worry about you, too. I’m not gonna apologize for that.”
She made another sound, less derisive, and we sat together, eating breakfast bars and contemplating the view. “So what happened?” she asked after a while, and although I had no desire at all to revisit the last few minutes in the Lower World—the Otherworld, Brigid had called it—I did, ending with, “You’ll need to go to Tara soon, Cat. It’s down there, you know.”
Caitríona gave me a curious glance and I pulled my knees up, chin resting on them. “Old Tara. The way it was. It’s down there in the Lower World, waiting for somebody to lift it up again. It tried following us when we left.” I shivered at the recollection. Tara’s power was immense, and the Otherworld had been shaken free of the Master’s grip. All that power, essentially lost to humanity for eons, was awake again, and ready for a fight.
“You could have done it,” Cat said after a judicious pause.
I shook my head. “I think we might be lucky I couldn’t have even lifted a finger right then, Cat. I’d been put through the wringer, and I think if I’d been using any kind of active power it might have latched on and followed us back up. This isn’t my territory. That’s not my decision to make, especially through an exhausted screw-up. It’s your decision and job, not mine.”
“Should I?”
“Mmm. I dunno. I want to say yes, just because it was so awesome. But it would literally rearrange the landscape. It would raise a river that went underground centuries ago. It would obliterate a chunk of highway. And it would force people to accept that something extraordinary had happened.” I thought about that last, then amended, “At least it would for a while. Probably pretty soon they’d mostly think Tara had always been restored. We’re good at forgetting, especially awkward things like magic. So don’t do anything hasty.” Me, advising someone not to be hasty. I laughed, and Cat lifted an eyebrow. I shook my head and repeated, “Just don’t be hasty.”
“I’m nineteen so I’ve time.” She hesitated, then asked what we’d both been half avoiding. “Will ye stay?”
My phone rang as I started to answer, startling us both into laughter. I patted my pockets until I found it, saying, “I forgot I was even carrying it. Good reception up here,” and glanced at the ID as I answered. Unknown caller, so it wasn’t Morrison. I had to talk to him before I decided about staying in Ireland, but I’d already as much as promised Caitríona that I would. “Hello?”