Shadow's Edge (17 page)

“I don't see anything different than before,” I said impatiently to Slade's back.

“Look around, Leah. Open your mortal eyes.”

I glanced around me, at first seeing the same bright, twinkling lights and beautiful flowers I'd seen before. But slowly, like shadows from behind the rocks, I began to notice gray. Gray patches where a nothingness seemed to exist. As though a hole had been ripped into the Other Realm, leaving an empty space behind.

“What's this?” I whispered to Slade.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “This is the plague I told you about. It's been happening since right before Fiona died. It's as though disease is hitting our realm, except it is eating away at our world instead of just our people. It grows larger each day. The nothingness. The Fomoriians.”

I nodded as I looked at the torn edges of the patchy torn shreds of the Other Realm, lingering in space.

“Come, we must journey to my kingdom. To Inis Mor.”

Despite the warmth and white magic of Tara, I shivered. But I knew it was time.

I followed Slade to the edge of the Light Kingdom, where a tall stone wall covered in silver ivy and bejeweled flowers stood, reaching tall up into the clouds before fading away like the edge of a worn newspaper.

“Is there an opening in the wall? Don't we have to cross over water to get to Inis Mor?” I asked. I ran my hands over the stones and applied pressure, expecting one to spring loose a trap door or entrance.

“Yes, we have to cross over the Sea of Danu. It's straight ahead,” Slade said.

“Well, how do we—” I stopped as my brain clicked. I pulled my hands from the wall and turned to face Slade. “Well, go ahead. Remove the glamour. I forgot about it.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“The Light cannot stand to see anything that isn't beautiful,” Slade said. He placed a white hand on the wall, which crackled and fizzled and grew transparent until it dissipated into a thin mist.

Immediately, a cold wind whipped across us, a chill that moved over the land as the sky turned to dusk. The rainbow-colored blackbird that had accompanied us through the portal to Tara swooped low, nearly grazing my shoulder. I watched as it sailed past, across the rocky beach where we now stood and out over the black and gray waters of the Sea of Danu, which lay between us and the island of Inis Mor.

The blackbird's rainbow colors fell to the sea as it headed for the island, until all that remained of the bird was a flying skeleton. It disappeared into the storm clouds and lightning over Inis Mor.

“What happened to it?” I said, trembling.

“We have no need for glamour, like the Light.
We are … sparse in our vision.” Slade shrugged. He gestured toward a rickety wooden boat cast onto the beach. “Let's go.”

“Can't we just teleport there or something?” I gingerly stepped into the rotting boat and prayed it would hold us long enough to dock on Inis Mor.

“No,” Slade said, deftly shoving the boat into the water and climbing in. He stepped over me to the front of the boat and gave the bow a hard pat. “Inis Mor,” he said. The boat shimmied and rocked as the wooden slats in the front turned into the head of a Dark Créatúir—a kelpie, or water horse. The kelpie's chocolate-brown head whinnied and stretched toward the stormy skies before submerging into the water, moving our boat along toward Inis Mor.

I drew my hoodie tightly across my chest and pulled the sleeves down over my hands.

“Scared?” Slade leaned against the side of the boat. He turned and looked at the looming island and smiled, his eyes glinting yellow.

“Not at all,” I replied. My voice was steady although my confidence was shaken. I'd encountered many Dark Créatúir previously, as Shaman, and I'd managed to maintain my strength. Yet as the blue-black cliffs of Inis Mor cast a shadow over the choppy gray sea in front of us, my confidence was bubbling away.

It was one thing to encounter the Dark beings on my own turf, in my own world. It was an entirely different situation to be in their twisted, spooky habitat, with very little to protect me other than a clover charm, a sort-of-helpful shapeshifter, and the faith that they wouldn't harm me because of my Shaman title.

It wasn't much of a foundation for feelings of comfort.

As we made our way through the waters between dawn and darkness, between Tara and Inis Mor, Slade leaned forward and laced his fingers together on his legs. He looked at me, his eyes narrowed. “Do you have that map I drew for you?”

I nodded and reached into my pocket, drawing out the paper he'd given me earlier. “Right here,” I said as I held it up in the air.

“Good. If we get separated, you'll be able to find your way around Inis Mor.” Slade looked at the black cliffs, which were quickly becoming larger.

I nodded again and stuffed the map back into my pocket. I tried not to think about the “Pit of Blood Destruction” he'd told me about, or the “Cliffs of Despair” or the “Dullahan's Lair.” I planned on sticking to Slade like Rhea to my mom's expensive jewelry.

“Slade, do you think—”

A silver flash in the water caught my eye. I leaned forward and peered over the side of the aging wooden boat. “What was that?” I said, as I saw the flash again. Sparkling and twinkling silver flashes, like ethereal shooting stars, were exploding beneath the surface of the gray waters, the only brilliance amidst the depressing sea.

The flashes were growing larger, their beauty more breathtaking. Despite my still-lingering fear, I leaned closer.

“Leah.” I heard my name as if it were being said into a conch shell, so far away and dreamy.

“So beautiful,” I murmured, reaching out to touch the brilliant silver.

“Shaman, don't!” Slade shouted, grabbing for my arm.

But it was too late. I'd leaned over the shallow edge of the boat and fallen into the sea. I braced myself to feel the icy waters, but they felt like luxurious bathwater surrounding me. The silver flashes circled around me like a light show as I held my breath and hovered underwater.

Then the flashing stopped and a figure swam in front of me. She had light green skin with vivid green eyes, and silver scales dotted her face like a masquerade mask. Brilliant silver hair flowed behind her, wisps brushing against her silver tail.

It was a mermaid. Her green eyes, inches from mine, nearly hypnotized me. I reached out to touch her flowing hair, entranced by her beauty. I felt a tickling sensation on my legs as I realized that three other mermaids were swimming around my body, stroking my legs and feet.

The mermaid leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Bubbles escaped from my mouth as I realized I could breathe underwater. She stroked my face, her eyes glinting a deeper shade of green. I brought my hand up to touch her face, to see if her silver brilliance would come off in my fingers like the shimmer on a butterfly's wings.

As I reached toward her face, I felt something dig into my shoulder, causing me to cry out as my body was brought to the surface. I sputtered as I broke through, the water instantly turning cold as Slade hoisted me onto the boat.

“Why—what—I—” I sputtered, coughing up water from my saturated lungs. I gasped for breath, freezing on the bottom of the boat, as Slade peered over me with a look of disgust on his face.

“You should be grateful,” he said, sitting back down.

I sat up, my hair plastered to my face, soaking wet. “Mermaids?” I gasped, scrambling to sit next to him, my bones chilled.

“Water sheeries,” he said. He gazed at Inis Mor, now looming above us, nearly within our grasp. Then he looked back at me as I shivered in the stormy cold. “You're lucky I saved you,” he sneered. “Did they grab your legs?”

I nodded, afraid of what he was going to say and suddenly realizing maybe they weren't as friendly as the Little Mermaid.

“They were admiring your legs.” Slade brushed back a lock of jagged dark hair before leaning forward, his face inches from mine. “Because they were getting ready to pull them off.”

“What?” I shrieked. “No, they were … ”

“A few more seconds and you'd only have existed from waist up, and those water sheeries would be walking around Inis Mor with a pair of Shaman legs.” Slade leaned back and cackled as the kelpie lifted its head from the water, neighing as though it was laughing at me too.

I shivered violently and I looked down at my thankfully still-intact legs.

“Enough,” Slade said, and held up his hand. The kelpie stopped neighing and submerged its head back into the water. A few seconds later, we pulled up to a murky dock. The water was black, like sludge, and completely opaque, hiding whatever was lurking beneath the surface. Hairy yellow spiders, nearly the same size as my palm, skimmed the water's surface, hopping along as though skipping stones.

I struggled out of the boat and stood on the mossy carpet, surrounded by thick trees covered in dangling Spanish moss that shifted and strained to touch me. I took a step forward and hidden Dark Créatúir scattered and hid behind the rocks. I felt their beady eyes watching me, judging me, as I followed Slade through the twisted thicket of the Forest of Macabre, the entrance to Inis Mor.

“There are beings here who would seek to harm you, Leah, like the water sheeries. I will try to protect you, but just be aware that not every being on Inis Mor is benevolent,” Slade said as I followed him through the forest, along the path made from bones of unknown origin, toward King Oran's Palace of Grimm. I tried to pretend that they were just fake bones, like that skeleton in Bio class. Yet their crunch sickened me as we walked.

“We're almost there,” he finally said. I kept my head down, close to Slade's back, too afraid to look around the landscape.

“Okay … ” I started to say when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whirled around before I thought better of it. In front of me stood a beautiful woman, young, with cascading blond hair. She was dressed in a burgundy shawl, the hood pulled up and framing her delicate face. She cradled in her arms a small figure the size of an infant, swaddled in a black blanket.

“Would you help me?” she said, tears streaking her face. “My baby is sick. Can you help her?” She leaned forward and pulled the swaddle blanket away from the baby.

“Oh!” I started to lean forward to see the baby.

“Keep walking!” Slade said, jerking me by the arm down the path, away from the woman and her child. “What did I say about being careful?” he muttered, dropping my wrist.

“Sorry,” I said sullenly, like a scolded child, as I continued down the path. After a few moments of silence, I had to ask. “So who was that?”

“Morla. She used to be human. A Créatúir stole her baby when it was an infant, and she tried to cross over to find her child.”

“That's horrible!” I said as I brought my hand to my mouth.

“She went crazy when she couldn't find her child. Sought revenge. So now she roams and asks people to help her sick baby. When they look inside the blanket, she steals their eyesight and life force. The lucky ones end up with bloody holes in their head where their eyes were.” Slade stopped in the path, nearly causing me to bump into his back. He bent down and looked eye level at me. I saw his pupils dilate into diamond shapes. “What a pity it would've been for those clear blue eyes to be in Morla's head right now.” He stood up and laughed as a wave of nausea came over me. “C'mon, we're almost there,” he said as he kept walking.

I reached into my pocket and clutched my clover tightly as we approached the castle of the Dark Kingdom. A white-hot sweat had formed over my body, and I prayed that no other Dark Créatúir would try to steal my legs, eyes, or any other body part before we got to the castle.

And then, it was in front of us. Reaching upward into the sky, gnarled stone turrets like the undergrowth of a tree intertwined together, making for an ominous threat and promise.

I could only imagine what lived inside. What
being ruled these creatures? What being had taken King Oran's place?

“You won't be hurt,” Slade said, as though reading
my mind.

“I hope not. I just want to return to my world with all of my pieces intact,” I told him.

We made our way through the dying trees and into the grove. The castle was surrounded by a black wooden fence, the tops formed into spades and spikes. As if it weren't scary enough, heads of creatures were placed haphazardly on the spikes, as though warning against any transgressions against the rulers.

“Punishments,” Slade said as he pointed to the head of an ogre shoved onto a spike, its mouth still open as though in shock.

Through the grisly gate, we passed twisted columns of trees holding Dark Créatúir prisoners. They reached out to us through the thick columns, brushing our arms, chattering in Créatúir-speak.

Unsettled dark spirits circled around us like flocking birds as we walked into the chamber with the thrones. Thick black sludge coated most of the floor, waiting to capture the ankle or foot of anyone who trespassed. And should someone be caught by the sludge, they'd quickly be transformed into stone—their mind intact—to live out an eternity bearing witness to the Dark Créatúir.

Careful to stay behind Slade on the narrow stone pathway that led through the center of the chamber, I followed him onto a platform that faced the thrones of the
Dark Créatúir.

“Queen Kiera.” Slade bowed and I followed his lead.

“The Créatúir Shaman,” Kiera said. I stared into the darkness, trying to make out the figure on the throne. After a few seconds, my eyes adjusted and I recognized who—or
what
, I should say—Kiera was.

Baobhan sith. Consumer of life force—of blood.

An Irish vampire.

Then I realized that the black sludge all around me wasn't just a tarlike substance. It was blood.