The Unicorn Hunter (8 page)

‘I told you, I'm not getting involved, not this time,' said Maddy. ‘Someone else can sort this out.'

‘But you
are
involved,' said Roisin. ‘Every bit of trouble around here always seems to involve you. And because, for some strange reason I haven't worked out yet, we're friends, that means I get involved too.'

Roisin went back to leafing through a reference book, while Maddy seethed quietly. It did not help that Roisin was right as usual. ‘Besides, the Tuatha
know
you are lying, and as soon as they can prove it they are going to have all three of us running around Blarney or Tír na nÓg, avoiding the pointy bit of a sword,' continued Roisin. ‘Personally I would like to be prepared with some kind of plan before that happens.'

The library was overheated as usual and Maddy's eyelids were heavy with tiredness and boredom. She let them droop and listened to the slow whisper of the pages turning beneath Roisin's fingers.

Roisin let out a deep sigh. ‘But how can we plan for this?'

Maddy's eyes snapped open and she saw Rosin's big brown eyes fill with despair.

‘Don't, Ro,' she whispered. ‘Let's not talk about it.'

‘We have to,' said Roisin. ‘You probably didn't hear much about this stuff in England, but this is what we are facing.' She slid a heavy hardback on Irish history on to Maddy's lap. Maddy didn't want to look but she dropped her eyes to the print anyway, turning the pages with trembling fingers.

Phrases floated in front of her frightened eyes.
An Gorta Mór
, the Great Hunger … one million people dead from hunger and disease … one million more fled on ships to other countries … evictions … bodies lying dead of starvation by the roadside … mortality rate of thirty per cent on ‘coffin ships' from malnutrition and disease …

Maddy thought about what Meabh had said.
This time, there will be no ships on which to escape to other countries, because everywhere else will be dying too
. Tears began to slip down her own cheeks and Roisin
crept over to her and wrapped her arms around Maddy's shoulders.

‘If the barrier fails completely on Halloween, then the Tuatha will pile war on top of famine,' said Roisin. ‘It will be the end of the world.'

‘I can't do this,' said Maddy. ‘It's too much.'

‘You have to try,' said Roisin. ‘I'll help.'

‘That makes me feel so much better,' said Maddy.

‘Sarky git,' said Roisin, imitating Maddy's London accent.

‘Did you find out what it meant when they said I was the new Hound?' Maddy asked.

‘Not exactly,' said Roisin. ‘But I did find out who the Hound was that got into a fight with Meabh.'

‘And …' prompted Maddy, when Roisin fell silent.

‘Well, it's pretty well documented that when Meabh went to war over a bull, Cú Chulainn stood in her way. Meabh still got the bull though.'

‘Cú Chulainn – the Hound of Ulster?' asked Maddy, hiking an eyebrow with surprise. ‘They're saying I'm like him? That I'm a muscly superhero of Celtic legend, with a big sword and shield and everything?'

‘Uh-huh,' said Roisin, watching Maddy's face carefully.

Maddy stared at Roisin for a moment and then both girls burst out in peals of hysterical laughter, drawing
the attention of an irate librarian, who shushed them into silence.

‘Maddy?' whispered Roisin a few minutes later.

‘Mmmm?'

‘What if you are the Hound?'

Maddy glanced up at her quickly. ‘Don't you start!'

‘But it would explain a lot, wouldn't it? Why all this stuff with faeries started happening when you came to live in Blarney … why they all seem drawn to you in a weird way.'

‘Ro, do I really look like some ancient Celtic warrior with mythical powers of strength, who can sort out a war between faeries and humans?'

‘Honestly? No.'

‘There you go then. Trust me – this is someone else's mess to sort out. There is nothing we can do about it.'

At 5 p.m. it was time to go home. Aunt Fionnula had left an irate message on Roisin's mobile to say she was being picked up for her dinner
right now
, so Maddy helped her put the books back on the shelves.

‘Granda will sort everything out,' said Roisin. ‘They can't leave it all up to us.'

‘I hope so,' said Maddy, although her insides warmed a little at the fact that Roisin had said ‘us'.

Aunt Fionnula was waiting at the school gates and she honked her car horn with impatience as soon as
she saw Roisin. She did not smile or wave or give the slightest sign that she could see Maddy. Maddy knew that she did not have a chance of being offered a lift, so she said goodbye to Roisin and walked off quickly in the direction of home.

Autumn was really biting down. The air was crisp and clear with the smell of rain. The last of the light was already fading from the sky and the trees had ragged holes in their russet and gold finery. Maddy hunched her shoulders as the wind looked for gaps in her clothes with long cold fingers.

The walk home was divided into light and dark. On her left-hand side the castle rose into the sky, its grounds guarded by a gloomy line of mature evergreens, thick and impenetrable. Only the occasional street light punctured the gloom, but on her right was an inviting pavement lined with houses where families were getting ready for dinner in glowing rooms. Maddy walked quickly toward the heart of Blarney village, forcing her eyes not to flick to the silent trees on her left. The thought that the barrier was breaking down between this world and Tír na nÓg gave her the creeps. If any faerie was watching from beneath those dripping branches, she was not going to give them the satisfaction of thinking that she cared.

She did dart a quick glance as she passed the
entrance to the estate where Seamus rented his house, but his was the only one dark and silent. She wondered if a Tuatha could ever feel comfortable in that modern box or if he was just sitting there in the dark while another world played out in front of his eyes. Or perhaps he was somewhere else, finding a way to trap Maddy into doing what he wanted. She shrugged off the prickle of apprehension that tiptoed down her spine on spider's legs and hurried on.

She tried not to give into the temptation to run on the wet pavement, all the while straining her ears and watching from the corners of her eyes for any sign of faeries around her, but all was quiet and perfectly normal. There was the usual traffic around the village, cars pulling into the supermarket to get last-minute shopping, a coach laden with out-of-season tourists trying to squeeze its bulk around the narrow country corners of the village square. She could see the waiting staff in the local hotel setting up the restaurant for dinner and a smattering of customers in the local pub having a quiet game of pool.

She turned left and could see a little plume of smoke coming from the chimney of her grandparents' house. She was feeling chilled to the bone now and was looking forward to a cup of hot chocolate in front of the fire and a bit of TV before dinner. Granda would be home soon.

She smiled and could almost taste the sweetness on her tongue. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of a hot dinner.

But as she walked around the corner of the wall to the square she saw a dog lying against the rough-cut stone, directly opposite her grandparents' front door. It was huge and black and shaggy and no breed that she could name. It turned a massive square head to look at her and Maddy nearly tripped over her own feet as she looked into yellow eyes as big as headlights.

It's just a dog, it's just a dog, it's just a dog that shouldn't be off the lead, just a dog
… she thought as her hands shook and the tip of her front-door key skittered and scratched the lock as she tried to guide it home. She was desperate to turn around and face the animal and her body was tense as she listened for the sound of a growl rumbling in its throat. But it stayed still and quiet and she nearly wept with relief as the key shot home and the door opened as she turned it.

She should have kept walking. As the door swung open straight into her grandparents' little sitting room, a woman in plaid with red hair that tumbled around her and brushed the floor looked up from her granda's chair by the fire.

The Queen of Autumn had come for a visit.

Maddy stood frozen with shock in the doorway while Meabh smiled slyly at her. A few fallen leaves took advantage of the open doorway and scampered in around her ankles.

‘Come in out of the weather, Maddy, for goodness sake, and close your mouth,' fussed Granny, as she bustled out from the kitchen with a cup of tea in her hand. ‘Our guest will think you have no manners at all!' Meabh smiled up at Granny as she took the saucer from her hand, wrapping her long thin fingers around the delicate china.

‘Thank you so much,' she purred, her teeth hard and white against her ruby-red lips.

‘Will you have a bit of cake with that?' asked Granny.

‘I would love some,' said Meabh graciously, and smiled as Granny bustled back out to the kitchen.

Maddy looked over her shoulder at what was
obviously, now that she took a long hard look at him, the Pooka. She stepped carefully into the house and closed the front door behind her, before sliding into a chair at the square dining table in the centre of the room and glaring at Meabh.

‘Who does my granny think you are?' she asked, cringing inside as she heard her voice give a little wobble with fear.

‘A missionary collecting for the starving babies in Africa, a cause I understand is close to her heart,' said Meabh.

A bark of laughter escaped Maddy's throat before she could shut her lips against it. ‘She's never going to believe that!'

‘She's glamoured,' said Meabh. ‘She will see whatever I tell her to see and then she'll forget I was ever here.'

Granny came out from the kitchen with a slice of fruitcake on a plate.

‘Can I have some?' said Maddy, and she peered at Granny's eyes when she looked in her direction. Her pupils were reduced to pinpoints.

‘Not before your dinner, Maddy. You know the rules,' said Granny.

Not that glamoured, is she?
thought Maddy.

‘Well, this all looks lovely,' said Meabh as she glanced down at the untouched food and drink cradled in her
white fingers. ‘But I really need to have a little chat with Maddy all by myself so would you mind leaving us alone for a little while?'

‘Of course!' said Granny, smiling away at Meabh like a loon. She walked back to the kitchen, shutting the door behind her without so much as a glance at Maddy.

‘You'll fry her brains, doing that to her,' said Maddy.

‘She'll be fine,' said Meabh, putting the tea and the plate on the corner of the table and pushing them away from her with the tips of her spindly fingers. They sat there in the silence, staring at each other. Maddy could hear Granny singing to herself as she washed dishes. The fire popped and crackled and the clock ticked loud, but not a sound crossed Maddy's or Meabh's lips.

After a minute or two, Meabh threw back her head and roared with laughter.

‘Oh, I do like you, Maddy!' she said. ‘You really are beginning to learn our ways, aren't you? Sitting there, waiting for me to say the first word, to give a hint as to why I am here, what I want.'

‘I have no idea what you're talking about,' said Maddy.

‘Yes, you do,' said Meabh, still smiling. ‘You know, I never thought you could be this clever. All the time I've
been watching you, I thought Roisin had all the brains, and you and Danny were just bringing along brute force. But you are learning, and that gives me hope that you can play the game.'

‘What game?' asked Maddy.

‘The best game of all,' said Meabh. ‘You're going to help me play a game of chess, with real kings and queens and knights and castles. If you're nice to me, I won't make you a pawn.'

‘Chess is boring,' Maddy said.

‘Maybe in your world,' said Meabh. ‘But in our world it's life and death. Four courts, equally matched in power – what stops us from wiping each other out? We play games.'

‘I don't understand,' said Maddy, shaking her head.

‘Do you know the story of Oisín and Niamh?' asked Meabh.

Maddy frowned. ‘I think so. He was a musician and a singer, thousands of years ago, and he was taken to Tír na nÓg by Niamh, the faerie queen—'

‘The Queen of the Summer Court,' interrupted Meabh. ‘Go on …'

‘But after three hundred years he grew homesick and wanted to return to Ireland to see his friends. Niamh didn't want to let him go but he insisted. So she gave him a white horse and told him that as long as he didn't get
down from the saddle he could leave and still come back to her. But when he was in the mortal world he leaned down to help some men move a rock, the girth broke and he fell to the ground …'

‘Where the most beautiful man in Ireland turned to dust before their very eyes,' finished Meabh in a singsong voice.

‘That really happened?' asked Maddy.

‘Yes, but not quite the way the storytellers say,' said Meabh. ‘Niamh did indeed fall in love with the mortal Oisín and she did spirit him away to Tír na nÓg. But her husband was not impressed by how besotted she was with her new pet.'

‘Her husband was Aengus Óg – the god of love?' said Maddy.

‘Exactly.' Meabh nodded. ‘And didn't it make him look foolish, his wife infatuated with a creature far inferior to himself! But what could he do? Niamh is a bubblehead, but she's still a Tuatha regent. Aengus did not want to provoke his queen's anger by killing her mortal lover.

‘What the storytellers do not say is that Aengus Óg looked outside his court for someone who would help him and keep it a secret, one who owed no oaths of loyalty to his wife,' continued Meabh. ‘Niamh would never have let her lover leave, so it was me that brought
Oisin that pure white horse – Embarr, my very own mount – and told him that he could leave and be back before his queen even knew he was gone. All would be well, I promised, as long as he did not get down from the saddle.'