The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance (57 page)

Things couldn’t be better. She was madly in love, it was useless to deny it. She was also certain Ulick felt the same.

But every time they got physical y close, every time things went quiet between them and she could almost hear his heart beat in her ears, Ulick shied away. She even caught a groan of frustration now and then. Tara understood why he didn’t want to take their relationship further.

Though neither of them brought up his determination to stil convey his message to Nuada Airgethlam, it sat between them like some warty chaperone.

He knew he would have to leave soon. And Tara ached at the thought of the inevitable. His quest had kil ed him once already. Who was to say it wouldn’t kil him again? And what if no one ever found his grave this time?

What if she never saw him again?

She grabbed the four bottles of wine she’d bought on the way home and went inside. The fragrance of roasting lamb met her at the door, with Ulick right behind it. He’d learned how to use modern razors, and his chin was smooth. He’d also insisted she try her hand at hairdressing. She refused to cut too much off, instead leaving his hair in a short bob. It was enough: his hair was natural y curly, and framed his strong face so he looked like a surfer. Except for the lack of a tan, of course, but on Ulick the milky skin looked right.

Would wine have the same effect on Fae as it had on humans? She was about to find out.

She and Ulick talked as always, but this time over wine. “I have not had wine for a good long while,” he said when he refil ed his glass the first time. “I had better take care, or I might make a fool of myself.”

Tara waved a careless hand. “You’re among friends.” They clinked glasses, drank, and talked some more. Ulick drank slowly, he didn’t get drunk, but she sensed a definite relaxation about him that she hadn’t seen before.

And as the night wore on, the silences between them grew. They weren’t empty spaces, bereft of words. Instead they were overflows of unspoken understanding.

He laid his hand on hers. Tara smiled, savoured its warmth. Ulick stared at the table, as if scared to face her. When he lifted his gaze, it held an edge of recklessness, as if he’d made up his mind: about what, she could only guess. Her heart answered the plea she saw in his eyes.

They rose from their seats simultaneously, leaned over the smal table.

There were no preliminaries, no tentative explorations. Ulick played his tongue over her lips and she opened for him wil ingly. He plunged it deep into her mouth with a shocking suddenness. A warm weakness spread from her bel y through the muscles of her pelvis, into her upper thighs. Her nipples peaked into a pair of sensitive crowns under her bra.

Ulick steered her away from the table, drew her close to him. She gave her hands and fingers free rein to explore every plane and curve of his body as she had so longed to do, welcomed the sensation of his touch to her skin. As if he couldn’t get her close enough, he put his hands under her buttocks and lifted her from the floor to straddle his hips.

Oh, boy, did he want her badly. Her own desire flamed to fever pitch at the realization.

“Bedroom,” she whispered as he spread his kisses down her neck. He walked her down the passage without answering.

Later, when they lay entangled in the aftermath of the explosion between them, she placed her hand on his abdomen and asked the question that had been in the back of her mind since that first night.

“Ulick. Why, when I told you about my grandmother’s death, did you say ‘ah’?” He chuckled. “What would ye have had me say?”

“There was meaning in that ‘ah’, Ulick. I heard it.”

For a moment, she thought he’d fal en asleep. Then he pul ed her closer, laid her head on his chest. His voice was a comforting rumble against her ear. “Why did ye choose to dig where ye found me? Was it chance, or did some matter guide yer decision?” Tara hesitated. “Wel . . . Al my life, I’ve often felt this curious prickly feeling along my spine when I meet certain people. It usual y goes away after a minute or so.” She felt sil y for confessing this eccentricity, but the feeling was like chaff in the wind. This was a faerie she spoke to, after al .

“When I arrived at the dig, I felt this prickle al the time. Non-stop. It got real y irritating after a while.

The dig supervisor told me to choose my own square to excavate. I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Ulick stroked her hair. “Continue, please.”

“I wandered around the edge of the dig and, because I felt miserable already, I chose the spot where the prickly feeling was worst.”

He sighed, shifted his body, but when she wanted to move away, worried she made him uncomfortable, he stopped her. “Lass, I do not know how to give ye this news gently. Ye are Fae, Tara.”

She suppressed a laugh. “No, I’m not.”

“Aye, ye are. We can sense the presence of another of our kind. Ye felt me there.”

“No. It’s not possible.” Half of Tara wanted to rol off Ulick, go for a walk to process this strange claim of his. The other half wanted to snuggle closer to him, where she felt safe.

He moved his hand down to her back, stroked fingertips over her shoulder blades. “It is possible, sweet Tara. The feeling ye described, ye would have felt it when near yer own.”

“But . . .”

“Most likely, yer grandma would have told ye of yer nature, had she lived. But if we die in the world of man, we can only resurrect if a stranger wakes us again. Our kin must walk away. The only other way is for the body to be taken to Tir na nóg, where resurrection is an easier task. But to enter Tir na nóg, ye have to be gifted with time magic. Not al are.”

“So . . . you think I’m a faerie, like you?”

“Aye.” He pul ed the duvet up over them. “And, Tara . . .”

“Yes?”

“Moments before I was kil ed, I had implored Mother Eireann to lead me to one of my kind who had the gift of time magic.”

Tara blinked. “So?”

Ulick didn’t answer.

And then he didn’t need to. She sat up beside him. “What? Me? Now I know you must be joking.”

“Nay, lass. I do not jest.”

Tara laughed. Ulick put an arm behind his head, watched her with a quiet smile. “Ye set my soul on fire when you laugh like that.”

Her giggle subsided. Ulick reached out and pul ed her down on top of him. Tara felt blindly for the lamp switch. She found it. Velvet darkness poured into the room.

* * *

They were on the couch in the sitting room, windblown from their walk. The smel of fresh heather and yesterday’s rain clung to their skins, their hair. Three days had passed since they became lovers, and their hunger for each other burned day and night.

“Let go of yer thoughts first.” Ulick got up and drew the blinds to shut out the bright realness of the sun. “Close yer eyes, if ye must, but empty yer head. Then think of Tir na nóg.” He sat back down beside her.

“But surely the Tir na nóg I’l think of wil be the wrong one? It wil be the image I’ve formed of it in my mind from the stories I’ve heard and read, not the place as it actual y
is.”

“Tir na nóg is in the heart of al Fae, Tara. Ye know it here.” Ulick rested his hand on her chest.

“Try.” He shifted away from her and gave her an encouraging smile. “I think it might be easier for ye than ye think, because ye’re a scholar. Yer mind is disciplined already.” She’d try, for his sake. In truth, she was stil sceptical about his claims. Her? A faerie? Come on.

Yet at the same time, she couldn’t just dismiss what he’d said. It made sense. Yes, she would try unlocking the time magic he was convinced she carried in her soul. She’d real y try.

Tara closed her eyes and imagined herself sitting in an empty, white space. Her breathing slowed. Every time a thought tried to muscle its way in from the outside, she focused harder on the white space. Just white, nothing else.

When she felt empty and relaxed, Tara al owed a single name to join her in her space.
Tir na
nóg. Mythical land beyond time, home of the Irish gods.

Nothing happened. She shook her head regretful y, and opened her eyes. “I’m sorry, Ulick, I . . .” The sentence died on her tongue. For a mere moment, she saw something like a hole in front of her, obliterating the furniture and wal behind it. Inside was a sense of absolute nothingness, as if everything stopped inside this darkness.

And then it was gone.

Tara turned to Ulick, her mouth opening and closing, but no sound coming from her throat. He grinned at her like a proud teacher. “I was right. Yer mind is disciplined already. Ye have strong time magic in ye, Tara. Ye opened a door to the space between time and time, the passage to Tir na nóg.”

“I . . . I . . .”

She felt it herself even as alertness sprang into his eyes and his lips pressed into a thin line.

That familiar prickle, a spider wearing footbal spikes crawling up her spine. A shadow passed over the drawn blind.

Tap-tap-tap!

Tara rose automatical y to open the door, but Ulick pul ed her back. “We need to know who it is first. Remember, the knowledge I carry can yet harm those who work to undermine the King. They wil be looking for me.”

“More than 250 years on?”

“Aye. Ye do not understand, Tara, time means something different when you have eternity.” Her cal er knocked again. “Hel oooo! Tara? Are you home?”

“Oh.” Tara smiled. “It’s just Dr Dul aghan, the dig supervisor. My boss, actual y.” She turned to Ulick and the blood froze in her veins. He had turned deathly pale. His body adopted a deep, dangerous stil ness in every line. Like a leopard, cornered, which turns itself into a statue to make ful use of its camouflage, but at the same time tenses to fight.

“Tara,” he said, his voice low, as Dul aghan knocked again. “The man ye think of as yer leader is not what he seems.”

“Tara? Hel o? I know you’re home, pet.” The familiar Irish way of using endearments for al and sundry sounded wrong on Dul aghan’s tongue. “Open the door, Tara.”

“He is a powerful faerie, who works to gather enough power to kil Nuada Airgethlam and take his throne. Our King has learned over mil ennia to rule with wisdom and grace. War has been eradicated from Tir na nóg, the land beyond time. The hidden world has always been treacherous, but for several hundred years now it has worn peace as its preferred outfit.”

“Tara, I know you’re in there. Open the door.” Every patch of false friendliness Dul aghan had first plaited into his voice was now gone. He hammered at the door, making the knocker rattle.

“Taking away the man who keeps the balance, who knows the diplomacy to preserve this peace, wil trigger wars that wil reverberate in this land, and cost the lives of countless faerie.” He glanced at her, a plea in his eyes. “I cannot let this happen. I must stand against him.” Ulick sprang to his feet and Tara fol owed suit. “Open an entrance into time for us, Tara,” he said, his voice stil low. He stepped in front of her, between her and the front door. “Do it. It’s our only chance.”

“Can’t we—”

The end of her sentence was swal owed in a massive crash. Her front door splintered into a thousand pieces. Tara flinched, braced herself for the shower of debris that would hit her, but nothing did.

Ulick had lifted his hands to chest level. The air in front of him seemed
different
, as if it was somehow separate from the rest of the air in the room. Debris bounced away in front of him as if from a shield.

As if he’d solidified the air.

Dul aghan strode into her ruined sitting room as if he owned the place. He rested contemptuous eyes on Ulick, sighed and clicked his tongue. “There you are. Do you have any idea how much trouble I’ve had to take to find you?”

“Aye. I guessed. Ye became a man of history, an excuse to dig where ye felt other Fae resting, looking for me.”

Dul aghan clapped his hands slowly. “Bravo. Te n points for logic. And I would have found you sooner if Tara hadn’t been there to muddle my senses. Now, I’l not ask if you want to go easy. I know the answer to that already. Never one for making things simple if they could be complicated, Ulick.”

He wasn’t even paying attention to her, as if she was completely inconsequential.

“Tara,” said Ulick.

She snapped out of her shock, grasped his waist with shaking hands, rested her forehead against the hard muscles of his back. Comforting, yes, but how in hel could anyone stand against someone who oozed menace and chil cruelty like Dul aghan did? How had he ever managed to hide the monster he truly was?

“Tara,” Ulick said again, his voice low and calm, helping her focus.

Dul aghan misunderstood. “Oh. Tara? We can negotiate there. I am wil ing to give you my word to let her go, if you wil give yours in return to yield to me without making things difficult.”

“Nay. I wil promise no such thing.”

Focus, focus, focus,
but how could she cal into mind the empty white space when her brain screamed with fear?

“Then she wil die with you,” Dul aghan said. Tara didn’t look, just heard the creak and crash from above. She felt a
whoomp
around her, her ears blocked, and she heard Ulick grunt. She had to risk a glimpse.

There was little to see. There was empty space around them, but if she reached out, she could touch a mass of broken timber, pieces of ceiling, shards of glass and lumps of brick wal . Light filtered through the mass, but faded fast. Dul aghan was breaking the house up around them, piling al the debris on their heads.

Ulick groaned. “Any day now, lass,” he said, teeth clenched. He was holding a pocket of air rigid around them. Tara watched his arms start to shake, the light disappearing.

They were going to be crushed. She had to find a way to make that entrance. Silence.