Raven Calls

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?”

“Joanne?”

A woman’s voice, stiff with discomfort. It took me a few seconds to place it. Then I got to my feet, staring westward, suddenly feeling like I, too, could see the dark mythic clouds on the horizon. “Sarah?”

Sarah Isaac, née Buchanan, my high school best friend and worst enemy, now married to the man who’d fathered my children, exhaled so sharply I moved the phone from my ear for an instant. Caitríona, alerted by my tone, got up while I brought the phone back to my ear, afraid to miss whatever could possibly be forcing Sarah to call. “I got your number from a Captain Morrison at the police department,” she said, still stiffly. “I told him I was the FBI agent from the cannibal case in December.”

“Sarah, what the hell is wrong? Are you okay? Is Lucas okay?”

“I’m fine. We’re fine. We’re in North Carolina.”

I suddenly felt like a tower of building blocks, like the game where blocks are removed until the tower tumbles. One of my blocks, way down at the base, had just been removed, and it was only a matter of time until I fell.

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything. Sarah waited five whole seconds, then said, “It’s your Dad, Joanne. He’s missing. You need to come home.”

Acknowledgments

I dedicated this book to my mom because she was the first person who wanted to know Sheila MacNamarra’s story, but the acknowledgments for this book are all about her because I would not have gotten it written if she had not been there to rely on as a babysitter. I am utterly and completely in her debt for the hours she put in watching her new grandson, and my readers should appreciate her for it, too.

Also, hats off to my dad, who did the first edit pass on this particular book, and who, as always, caught stuff that nobody else notices. Seriously, have I mentioned how completely awesome my family is? Because they are. Totally awesome. Especially Ted, who keeps right on being the best husband any writer could ask for.

While we’re fiddling with the hat, a hat-tip to my other usual suspects: Trent, agent Jenn, editor Matrice and especially the Word Warriors, whose unflagging war room presence makes sitting down at the keyboard every day so much easier. Laura Anne, Mikaela, Robin, you guys in particular: *hearts*.