Unbound (27 page)

The meadow smells like warm
sunshine. Soft light filters in through the branches of the swaying trees to
dapple the long grasses and wildflowers below, spots of light and shadow dance
and drift, entwined like lovers.

The wind drifts lazily through our hair as Jacob and I
walk hand in hand, the slow drone of honeybees like the soundtrack to our
tranquil movement. Letting go of my hand, Jacob stops suddenly and his face
changes, sombre, unsmiling eyes focused elsewhere. I turn quickly to see what
he is staring at so intently at in the distance.

The edge of the meadow disappears into the shadows of
the forest, where a lone figure stands, only partially concealed in the dim
light. I know it is Eaden, even though I can’t see his face.
 
Feeling torn between staying with Jacob
and going to him, I am frozen. Uncertain.

Jacob’s small hand reaches again for mine and
comparing them, I realize I am no longer a child, but the grown woman I’ve
become. Jacob’s small hand closes tightly on mine.

“Protect him,” he says and then crooks a finger so
that I lean down towards him. His breath smells sweet and warm, like apples
ripening in the autumn sun. “It’s not what you think.” With a clumsy kiss, he
presses something into my hand and is gone, giggling and running the other way.

Opening my hand, I expect to see the brass key and
gasp in surprise when instead, a butterfly floats out of my open palm, its
turquoise wings a startling reminder of Sita’s eyes. I track its ascent until
it is no longer visible in the bright blue sky and then turn, my steps towards
Eaden sure and steady.

Storm clouds gather suddenly overhead and the sky
darkens to dusk. The wind begins to howl through the meadow like a mother
looking for her lost child; tall purple wildflowers bend in half under its
onslaught. The air is thick with ozone as raindrops began to splash heavily on
the ground.

Eaden’s face is visible to me now, that familiar look
of concern creasing his brow, his eyes full of the ancient misery he carries
with him. I feel overwhelmed with the need to touch him, knowing somehow that I
could relieve him of his burden, knowing there was something I was meant to do.
Running, I reach out a tremulous hand, stretching my fingers towards his fists
clenched tightly at his sides, trying desperately to reach him before the storm
does.

From somewhere behind me, I hear my name. Mad with
despair, Eaden’s eyes plead for release.

Closer, I reach out again…

“Rachel, wake up.”

Heart pounding, my eyes flew open. Mara stood beside
the couch I seemed to have stretched out on. The room was empty, the Sisters no
longer filling the space with their vibrant eyes and energy.

“We’re leaving now,” she said.

Confused, I looked for Eaden and couldn’t locate him.
I sat up, tried to shake the remnants of the dream from my head. Shake the
buzzing from my ears.

“Did something happen?” It felt like the middle of the
night.

Mara paused on her way out of the Great Hall. “They
know you’re here. I heard them.” Her voice was flat, expressionless. “Eaden has
gone to speak to Amerlyn.” She turned to leave again.

“Mara?”

“What?”

“Thank you for coming with us.”

“I’m not doing it for you.” There was no malice in her
statement, only truth.

“Still.”

Her mouth twisted into the ghost of smile. “You’re
welcome. Now get up.” Her long black hair swung behind her as she left the
room.

Pushing myself unsteadily to my feet, I looked down in
dismay at my rumpled clothes. Saying they looked slept-in was an understatement
of epic proportions. Moving as quickly and quietly I could, despite my groggy
limbs, I climbed the stairs to our room to make myself presentable. After
washing up in the small basin, I changed hurriedly and was just throwing my
hair up into a ponytail when the door creaked open.

Eaden kept his eyes on the floor.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m decent.”

 
“More than
decent,
mo cridhe
.” Although the
words were playful, his tone was serious. I knew that whatever happened next, we
could no longer pretend that anything was normal between us. One way or
another, my life was about to change irrevocably. “Are you ready?”

“No.” I smiled to take the sting from my words.

His own smile was a sad broken thing that he gave up
on quickly after a moment.

We left the room together, not looking back. There was
no looking back.

Be here
, I reminded myself.

We met the others outside. Without torches, the night
was dark and silent. And cold. My breath hung in the air in front of me like a
solid mass before being torn apart by an icy gust. Anxiously, I peered around
for some sign of what was to come next. I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t
complain, but I was desperately hoping that we wouldn’t be riding horses again.
My thighs had only just begun to feel better.

Eyes wide, Stuart shifted his feet from side to side,
fingers drumming incessantly against his legs as he cast longing glances at
Sita. He nodded briefly at us, frowning with worry and then back again to where
Sita stood a little off to one side, the dark grey hood of her sweatshirt
pulled over her head. Her lips were moving quickly, whether in prayer or in
song, I couldn’t tell. Taking a hesitant step towards her, Stuart swore softly
and stepped back again. Waiting.

Mara and Elora, heads close together, spoke quietly,
as if oblivious to the rest of us.

Seeing us approach, Amerlyn broke into a huge grin.
“Rachel, Eaden, you’re here.” He looked as pleased as if we had just shown up
for his birthday party.

Eaden met Mara’s eyes and she nodded discreetly and
then looked away.

A moment later, a glossy black SUV pulled up outside
the gates. Eaden’s arm reached around me as he guided me towards the waiting
vehicle and I eyed him quizzically, struggling to keep up. From horses to
luxury transportation, I didn’t think I would ever figure out the world they
all seemed to navigate with ease.

“It’s necessary,” he said grimly, not needing me to
ask the question.

I climbed through the door Eaden held open and watched
as Mara, Elora, and Sita turned in unison back towards
Tír na nÓg
. The three of them clasped hands in the silence and although
the cold wind stole whatever words they whispered, their rigid backs and bowed
heads told their story. This was a goodbye.

I tried to tear my eyes
away from them, not wanting to appear voyeuristic and awash with guilt at my
role in their departure, but they slid back, drawn to the poignant tableau they
created.

Eaden stood as if on guard
until finally, the three Sisters turned, Elora gently but firmly leading Mara
away from the gates. Remaining a moment longer, Sita reached a hand out into
the empty space beside her. Instantly he was there. Their crushing embrace did
nothing to reduce the size of the lump that was lodged heavily in my throat.
Leading her to the car, Stuart’s freckles contrasted bleakly against his pale
face as he watched her climb in and shut the door against him. Stumbling
backward, he shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes locked on the ground.

We faced each other awkwardly in the lush interior of
the car, having brought the silence of the cold night inside. Six faces staring
out of the tinted windows into the dark moorish night. Even Amerlyn looked
uncharacteristically sombre as the car pulled away, the driver invisible behind
the opaque screen dividing the front and back of the vehicle.

My last image of
Tír na nÓg
was of a dark hulking mass, blacker than the night
that surrounded it, as if, it, too were stepping away from us, leaving only the
absence of light in its place.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

I slept fitfully in Eaden’s arms as we travelled the
single-track roads back towards civilization. No longer concerned with
something as inconsequential as a passing car, my fears were fixed on what lay
ahead and colored my dreams with panic, although I remembered little of them.

Waking hours later, I found the spare vegetation and
cresting hills of the highlands had transformed into a more familiar urban
sprawl. Oddly, I found myself enormously reassured by the brightly lit gas
stations; even if it was called petrol here. Everything in the last few days
had seemed so utterly removed from what I knew of the world, any evidence that
the life I’d had still existed was a comfort.

Although I continued to doze in the darkness, I was
pretty sure Eaden hadn’t slept a wink. Each time I looked up at him, he smiled
reassuringly and stroked my hair. But I wasn’t fooled. He was on high alert,
watching and waiting like a snake poised to strike in defense. The shadows
under his eyes had deepened.

Sita and Amerlyn conversed quietly off and on, their
hushed voices sinking into the plush grey interior of the car as the miles sped
by. Mara stared out of the window. Elora slept.

Finally rousing myself to sitting, I spotted the
symbols for the airport on the road sign ahead of us and tried to imagine
exactly how this ridiculously big vehicle was at all inconspicuous. I didn’t
have to wait long to find out.

Mara gently shook Elora awake and whispered in her
ear. Looking dazed with sleep, she nodded and stretched and then went very
still.

“Done.” She yawned.

Mara turned to me. “Whatever happens, don’t freak out,
just smile and wave, okay?”

I wondered if there would ever be a time when things
made sense again.

As the driver pulled up outside the departures
entrance, Eaden jumped out quickly and held the door open.

Climbing out, I noticed with a sinking heart that two
uniformed police officers who’d been standing near the automatic glass doors
were approaching us. Worried that we were about to be chastised for stopping in
the wrong spot, I silently urged Mara to hurry up and get Amerlyn out of the
car before we drew too much attention. My heart rate increased steadily as they
walked directly towards me. Eaden stood behind me and when I glanced over my
shoulder at him, he lowered his eyes to the ground.

Utterly confused, it got no better when one of the
officers pulled his pad out and smiled ingratiatingly at me. “Morning, miss.
Begging your pardon, but my daughter will be right gobsmacked if I manage to
get your signature.” He held the pen towards me eagerly.

I heard Mara coughing significantly behind me.
Whirling, I turned to gaze at her and she glared at me ominously.

“Sure,” I mumbled. Taking the pen I signed and then
signed again as the other officer eagerly held his own pad out, too. My heart
stopped for a few beats as I belatedly realized that I was so completely clueless
I’d signed my own name. Neither man seemed to notice.

“Right this way, we’ll get you inside safely.” He
seemed apologetic. “Appears there’s been a leak of some kind, but I expect
you’re used to that by now.”

Eaden moved beside me and with a light hand on my
elbow, guided me in through the doors and straight into my own private hell.
Assaulted by hundreds of voices screaming in unison and waving colorful bristol
board signs and tee-shirts in my direction, I staggered into him, clutching his
arm in earnest. Calling out a name I couldn’t make out over the high-pitched
wails, these frenzied young girls reached for me, their hands outstretched,
fingers trembling. Near the front of the throng, a slight, brown-haired girl
with ribbons in her hair jumped up and down, her arms wrapped around herself,
tears streaming down her cheeks. My eyes met hers in confusion as she mouthed,
“I love you.”

With a pounding heart, I literally stumbled down the
roped-off walkway that mapped a path towards the baggage check and entrance to
customs. Mara stalked off in front of us, her scowl evident, while Elora, Sita,
and Amerlyn trailed behind. Eaden half led and half supported me, my head full
of questions that were trapped behind a dazed smile.

“Eaden?” My voice was too casual. He glanced down at
me, face impassive, yet with a hint of apprehension behind those hard-to-read
eyes. He must have known I wouldn’t be pleased with this plan. “Who do these
girls think I am?” My jaw hurt as my teeth clenched together in what I hoped was
a smile.

He scanned the crowd warily. “Cicely Mansfield.”

“Uh-huh.”
 
I turned to wave weakly at the young girls behind me who were chanting
and they broke into loud cheers. It reminded of riding the school bus when I
was a kid and trying to make the transport truck drivers honk their horns. “And
what do they see when they look at you?”

Fiercely vigilant, he blocked me with his body, arms
outstretched as we waited, as if these 13-year-old girls were likely to
suddenly mutiny and cross the velvet ropes that held them back. “I’m your
bodyguard.” He gestured minimally towards the others. “They’re your handlers.”