“Yummy, I like it when you play rough, Princess,” he said, purring.
“Did I mention that my blades are tipped with iron?” I said.
“Fine,” he said. With a rattle of bones and a heavy sigh, Torn took a step away. “What knowledge do you seek?”
I focused on the direction of his voice and took a breath.
“I need to find a door to Faerie,” I said.
“Oh, shit, is that all?” he asked, voice dripping sarcasm. “Why don’t you ask for Fionn mac Cumhaill’s bag of lost treasure while you’re at it?”
“So you can’t find out?” I asked.
“I didn’t say that, princess,” he said. Torn struck a match and lit a torch he’d pulled from thin air. We were still inside the privacy shadow he’d wrapped around us. The torch flickered making light dance across the cat sidhe’s scarred face. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To Mag Mell, of course,” he said.
Torn grinned and sprinted away. I chased after the flickering torch, swearing under my breath.
Too bad I was the mouse.
Chapter 34
Sir Torn ripped a hole in the fabric of reality and leapt into the light beyond. I shielded my eyes against the sun and stumbled out onto a grassy plain. My ears popped as the shadow we’d traveled through snapped shut behind me.
I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the clear, bright day. The sun blazed from a deep cerulean sky, not a cloud marring its perfection. A breeze rustled the leaves of an orchard to my left and golden light sparkled on the surface of a placid lake to my right. I sucked in a breath at the fantastical landscape.
A white stag, with antlers streaming moss and flowering vines, drank from the lake. A cardinal perched on the stag’s back, the bird a brilliant red to match the fields of flowering poppies that went on for miles in every direction.
Torn leaned against a tree and rubbed a shiny, red apple against the shirt beneath his leather vest.
“Want an apple, Princess?” he asked. “The food here is free for the taking. No one wants for food or drink in Mag Mell.”
Mag Mell. The name sent shivers up my spine. I was on one of the mythical planes of the Celtic Otherworld. Elysium, Valhalla, these planes all existed somewhere, but the Celtic Otherworlds of Emain Ablach, Hy Brasil, Roca Barraidh, Tir na nOg, Ynys Afallon, and Mag Mell were the ones most entwined with Faerie.
Was the door to Faerie here on the verdant plains of Mag Mell?
“W-w-what are we doing here?” I asked.
“Ah, I didn’t think you were one for philosophy, princess,” Torn said. “I prefer Aristotelianism, but, then again, I used to dine with the man. His wife Pythias could prepare a mean feast.”
I sighed, jaw aching from grinding my teeth.
“I wasn’t asking about the meaning of life,” I said. I clenched my fists and glared at the cat sidhe. “I mean, why are we here in Mag Mell? Is the door here?”
I had wanted information about the door to Faerie, not a day trip to the Otherworld. I rubbed the place where my throwing knives were sheathed beneath my jacket. I felt woefully unprepared. What horrors lurked within the rustling poppy fields or below the still surface of the lake? Mag Mell appeared to be a land of peace and tranquility, but looks can be deceiving.
“We are here to see Bechuille, a seer,” he said. “Mag Mell has long been a source of wisdom to heroes who seek knowledge.” Torn spun in a circle and pointed away from the stag, placing the lake at his back. “Come, we go this way.”
I dug in my heels and crossed my arms.
“Not until you tell me what I want to know,” I said. I fixed Torn with a deadpan look then let the darkness from my nightmares leak out around the edges. I’d seen enough of death and torment to last a lifetime and, when I let it, it showed. “Who is this seer and what do I have to give up in bargain for her aid?”
Torn hesitated.
“Tell me,” I said.
I flicked my wrist, snapping the grip of a throwing knife into my palm. The faerie would spill his guts one way or another. I grinned, showing too much teeth.
“Wait, princess,” he said. Torn raised his hands, palm out. “Let’s be smart about this. If you kill me, you’ll be stuck in Mag Mell forever. You need me.”
My fingers itched to draw all of my blades and use Torn for target practice, but he was right. I had no idea how to leave this place. The cat sidhe was my ticket home. I slid the knife back into its sheath and sighed.
“Just tell me what we’re dealing with,” I said. I ground my teeth and shook my head. “Please.”
See, I can play nice.
“Ah, perhaps you’d like to frolic a bit in the field or go skinny dipping in the lake while we chat?” he asked.
My fingers twitched and I snarled.
“Don’t press your luck,” I said.
“Right, probably for the best,” he said. “It’s not wise to dally in the Otherworlds. Shall we walk and talk?”
Torn gestured to a path I hadn’t noticed before and I strode forward. His comment made my pulse quicken.
“Okay, spill,” I said, walking at his side. “Who is this seer, what do I have to sacrifice to get my answers, and why is it “not wise to dally” here?”
“The seer is Bechuille, a druidess and one of the Tuatha De Danann,” he said. “She’ll do the sacrificing, not you. As for the latter, it’s not wise to dally in the Otherworlds, because time moves differently here than in the mortal realm. If we don’t move quickly, you could return to find your human business partner long dead.”
“And if we do move quickly?” I asked.
“Then no more than a few hours will have passed,” he said. “Now come along.”
If we stayed too long in Mag Mell, Jinx, not to mention my mother, would be dead and gone upon my return. Didn’t I say faeries were trouble? I knew I’d regret my alliance with the cat sidhe.
I took a deep breath and ran down the path.
Chapter 35
One of the amazing things about Mag Mell is that you never tire. According to Torn, it’s part of the magic here. Nothing ever grows old, becomes ill, or dies on the plains of delight.
I ran faster than I’ve ever run, covering miles in a matter of minutes. Torn sighed and ran beside me, the bones dangling from his ears clattering. We reached a ring of standing stones approximately ten miles from our starting point without breaking a sweat.
I slowed, examining the menhirs that towered overhead. A huge stone placed horizontally across two of the others formed the lintel of a door. Though the circle had no walls, we made our way toward the doorway.
