"It would."
"You will find out if they want her, yes?" she said. "I think you are mistaken. I heard them say they did not."
"We'll make sure of that," I said. I could only hope that what the fae overheard was a couple of young parents, temporarily frustrated. Parenting can't be easy, especially at that age, and there must be moments of exhaustion and frustration and even regret.
"If they do not want her, you will bring her back?"
I murmured something noncommittal.
"I am good to her," the fae said, as if sensing my doubt. "I took care of her. I kept her warm and fed, and I played with her, and she hardly even whimpers."
"I'm sure you were an excellent caregiver," I said.
The fae climbed over a pile of rock, scaling down a hillside as nimble as a mountain goat. We followed as best we could until we found her at the mouth of a cave.
"She is in there," she said. "Go and get her."
"Uh, no," Ricky said. "I don't know what's in there, but I have a feeling"--he inhaled and then backed up fast--"it runs on four legs."
Deep inside the cave, something stirred. I scrambled up the hillside, Ricky following. The fae bolted. Ricky swore and charged after her. I stayed where I was, listening to those noises in the cave, no idea what was in there, but making sure it didn't come out to investigate.
As the fae raced down the hillside, Ricky crossed above her, coming down onto an overhanging rock and then--
He jumped, landing on top of her, both of them rolling down the hill. I reached them just as Ricky got the fae pinned.
When I heard a whimper, Ricky did, too, his head jerking up. I kept going down the hillside, picking up speed, straining for those noises, almost lost in the calls and cries of the night.
Behind me, Ricky hissed in sudden pain. I turned to see the fae running my way, Ricky in pursuit, blood dripping, claw marks scored down his side.
I could see what looked like another thicket ahead. A cry came from inside. I spotted something pale. Pale yellow. Like the threads I'd found.
The fae was right on my heels. I dove, hit the edge of the thicket, and realized there were reasons other than "cold" for wearing clothing. Thorns clawed my torso. But there it was, a bundle wrapped in a soft yellow blanket covered in cartoon lions. I snatched it up in both arms, like a football.
The fae landed on my back. Teeth or claws dug into my shoulder. A snarl from Ricky, and the weight on my back disappeared.
My arms closed around the bundle as I whispered, "Sorry, sorry. You're okay. You're okay," and really hoped she was, because my football grab probably hadn't been the most baby-friendly move.
I held the bundle tight as she whimpered and whined. Then . . .
The whine sounded odd. High pitched. And the head rubbing against my bare chest . . . It was coarse hair. I might not know much about babies, but I have held enough to remember admiring that silky fine hair.
When a claw scratched my stomach, I let out a yelp and nearly threw the bundle aside. Luckily, I'm not quite that easily spooked and just thrust it away, holding it at arm's length to see . . .
"A puppy?" Ricky said.
I held a puppy. Wrapped in a baby blanket. A small brown-and-white dog, like a terrier mix. The puppy wriggled and whined.
"Mine!" the fae shrieked as she charged at me.
Ricky grabbed her and held her back as she fought.
"Mine. She's mine! They did not want her. I heard them talking. The other babies found homes, but she did not, and they were deciding what to do with her. They could not keep her, and they were talking about how they would rid themselves of her. Kill her. You will not take her back. You will not. She is mine."
I sighed and looked at the puppy, wriggling hopefully in my hands. Then I gave it a quick pat and held it out to the fae.
"Yours," I said.
Eleven - Liv
We were quiet as we walked back to the bike. Ricky had hold of my hand, gripping so tight it hurt, his gaze fixed straight ahead. I bided my time, waiting for his mood to settle a little, us getting distance from the swimming hole, before I said, "Arawn?"
He jumped and said, "What?" like I'd been calling him by that name.
"You were hearing from him in there?" I said. "That can be . . . discomfiting."
He loosened his death grip on my hand. "Yeah. It's weird, because he must have always been there. Memories of him or his actual consciousness, I don't know which, but it's like finding out my connection to him triggered it. Gave him permission to talk."
"And you'd rather he shut up?"
A faint smile. "Yeah. Do you hear Matilda?"
"I don't think so. I just get visions of her. Of being her, usually. Maybe she just doesn't have anything to say."
"Or maybe, with you, she's better integrated."
I shrugged. "Maybe. I do wonder sometimes if I've always just heard her and thought of that as my inner voice."
"I've wondered that, too, with Arawn. Whether he's always been the voice in my head, and whether knowing he is--well, was--an actual person just means I think of him differently."
"So you think I was right?" I asked. "About that cavern being a portal to the afterlife?"
"The shadows definitely felt like spirits. They recognized me--recognized Arawn. It wasn't even like they were actually threatening you. Just . . . curious. It was Arawn's memories making me freak out. Remembering you going into the fire--" He shoved his hair back and gave a soft growl. "Not you. Matilda. See what I mean? Most times, I can separate me from him, you from her. Recognize the connection, while separating the people. But in there? The problem wasn't here." He tapped his head. "It was in my gut. Logic be damned. I felt like you were two seconds from being consumed by shadows and dragged into the afterlife. Again."
He took a deep breath. "So, we got some clues."
I smiled at him. "Steer away from the weird shit and focus on the mystery?"
"Even the mystery is weird shit."
"The one about the cave, yes. The baby mystery seems to be squarely back in the realm of the human, and I have no clues for that and a teenage girl counting on me--"
"So, we got some clues."
I smiled and leaned against him as we walked. "You need to steer away from the weird shit. I need to steer away from the normal shit. Clues then. We found what appears to be an underground hole into the afterlife. The Otherworld, specifically. The Welsh version of the afterlife."
"Because the spirits and the fae knew Arawn."
"And spoke Welsh. She called you fy arglwydd. Welsh for 'my lord.'"
"Which raises a question. Arawn is Lord of the Otherworld, and Matilda spent half her time in his realm when she was alive, and she was half Cwn Annwn herself. Yet the Otherworld isn't where she went when she died, or he'd have been fine with that."
"I've never gotten the sense Arawn's like Hades or Osiris, an actual ruler of the afterlife, living among the shades and spirits. That's another answer I won't get until I choose a side. My guess, though, would be that his realm is not the afterlife itself but more like the gates to it."
"The castle you saw."
"The first time, yes. Not this time."
"But I did see something in there, and I heard laughter, voices, music. It didn't sound like any version of hell. Which the Otherworld isn't. It's just a generic afterlife, not for good people or bad."
"Right," I said. "So, yes, whether the castle and the music came from the afterlife or Arawn's actual realm, I have no idea. Presumably, on her death, Matilda went into the afterlife, as a spirit, and there was nothing he could do, no way to bring her back or visit her there or . . . My head hurts now."
"So we have some clues."
"Exactly. We also have cell service, so I'm calling on the almighty power of the internet. See if folklore can give us a head start."
I typed in my keywords and was reading a website when my cellular provider finally realized I was back in the land of the connected and released my texts and voice
mail messages. I had both. All from the same person.
"Uh . . . well . . ." I said, reading one of Gabriel's texts. I showed it to Ricky.
Please call immediately. Found information. Do not investigate before calling.
"Little late for that, huh?" I checked the other messages, which were iterations of the same theme.
It was nearly midnight, Atlantic time. Two hours earlier in Chicago, but I still sent a query to be sure Gabriel wasn't busy.
The phone rang thirty seconds after my text whizzed off.
"So, not busy?" I said.
He made a noise that I interpreted to mean it was a ridiculous question. It wasn't even ten at night. He'd hardly be sleeping. As for the possibility he was out enjoying his evening . . . Yeah, Gabriel's idea of an evening "out" would just mean he hadn't made it back from the office yet.
"Patrick believes he knows what you may be dealing with there," Gabriel said. "I'm not convinced he's correct, but on the possibility he is, I wanted to speak to you immediately."
"Gwragedd Annwn."
Silence. I continued, "Literal translation, dames of the Otherworld. Welsh guardians of the passages between the worlds. Water fae. Sometimes considered Welsh mermaids because lore has them luring human husbands, but otherwise, there's little resemblance. The Gwragedd Annwn aren't fish-like in any way, and they live in lakes rather than the ocean. Am I close?"
"Your identification matches Patrick's, yes, though the lore, as always, is slightly off. They're known to tease human men, but the concept of seducing them as husbands is, of course, ridiculous."
"Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?"
Ricky, who was listening in, chuckled. From Gabriel, I got dead silence. Then, "There's nothing in the lore to suggest any connection to cows . . ."
I bit my lip. Ricky managed to turn a laugh into a snort that had Gabriel saying, "Is that Ricky?" and "Is he all right?"
"He's fine. It was just a cough. Forget the cows. The point is that I'm correct with the basics, right? This is a water-based Welsh fae who guards a passage to the Otherworld. And what I saw--the cavern and the castle and even hearing bells--I found in the human lore, too."
"Yes, from what Patrick told me, you're dealing with an actual passage between the worlds. One you absolutely do not want to go near."
"This way to certain death?"
"That would be the theory, which I strongly urge--in fact, insist--you do not test."
"I wasn't planning to. That's why you warned us off, then?"
"That and the association with . . ." He faltered. "With Arawn. Which would connect it to . . ."
He didn't finish. Couldn't, being unable to make that connection himself. To put it into words.
"To Ricky, right?" I said. "Is Arawn connected to the gwragedd? The human lore actually mentions that they're associated with . . ."
Now I was the one trailing off as I realized where I was headed.
"Gwynn ap Nudd, yes." The words came clipped, giving Gwynn his full folklore name, to separate it from Gabriel himself. I didn't fail to catch the snap in his voice, almost accusatory, as if I were purposely bringing this up to throw it in his face.
You dream of some fairy prince and say I'm him?
My hand tightened on the phone. "I think I'm losing the connection, Gabriel. Why don't I call you in the morning? Or I can speak directly to Patrick--?"
"No."
"My cell service is wavering here--"
"If you are disconnected, I would ask you to call me back. If, however, you are attempting to end this conversation because of the direction it has taken, I would ask you not to."
"I wasn't taking it in that direction."
"Yes, I know. I . . ." A pause, and the next words came as if pulled out with vice grips. "I apologize." A deep breath that echoed down the line. "Now, as you were saying, yes, the lore does associate the gwragedd with Gwynn rather than Arawn, but that appears to be simply another manifestation of the folklore confusion between the two. Arawn controls the afterlife, and these fae guard the entrances to it. They serve him."
"Right," I said. "Like the Cwn Annwn or the hounds or the ravens, they're another part of Arawn's domain. Fae in his service. Which should mean he's not in danger from the gwragedd."
"Incorrect. Is he still there?"
"Yes."
"Put me on speaker. This is important."
I did, and Gabriel explained as we walked. At one time, yes, the gwragedd guarded the portals between the worlds and transported souls the Cwn Annwn claimed. In that respect, they bore some resemblance to Norse Valkyrie. But once the Cwn Annwn and other fae began being pushed out of Wales, they emigrated along with humans, seeking their own new frontiers. Yet the Cwn Annwn couldn't just dig new portals to their Otherworld. Sometimes they found one and settled near it. Other times that wasn't an option, and what they discovered was that they didn't absolutely need that portal. Souls would pass over to the afterlife without a physical passageway . . . and without the gwragedd to escort them. Which meant that the gwragedd became the elevator operators of the Welsh fae world, rendered obsolete by modern automation. Some Cwn Annwn retained their gwragedd, just as some buildings might keep an elevator operator, for nostalgia primarily but also serving new functions. In most cases, though, the Cwn Annwn turned to the gwragedd and said, "You're free."
You are relieved of your obligations. Go, and reinvent yourselves.
Some certainly did, but others were like humans told their services were no longer required--they didn't want to move on. They longed for their old jobs and their old purpose.
That was why Arawn had warned Ricky against letting this particular gwragedd know who he was. He'd been right to do so, as I knew from seeing that hunger in the fae's eyes. She was the lowly elevator operator grieving for her lost life. Arawn was the CEO of the corporation, the one person who could get her old job back. At best, she'd wheedle and plead and make Ricky feel like a shit-heel for walking away. At worst, she wouldn't let him walk away.
"So, I'm thinking we shouldn't go back for a swim," Ricky said after Gabriel explained.
"Absolutely not," Gabriel said. "Do not go near that swimming hole. Do not interact with the gwragedd in any way. Do not let her even suspect you might not be fully human, let alone connected to Arawn."
Ricky and I looked at each other. A moment of silence. Then Gabriel said, carefully, "Where are you?" as if he already knew the answer.
"We're leaving," I said.
"I hope that means you are leaving the area completely, having decided to spend the night in another town, as far from that swimming hole as possible."
"We're leaving the, uh, swimming hole," I said.
"Having not encountered the gwragedd while you were there."
Silence.
"Having encountered the gwragedd, who failed to realize you were anything more than human."
Silence.
"Olivia . . ."
"Yeah," Ricky said. "We chatted with her. She knows we realize she's fae. She did suspect I was Arawn--"
"What?"
"I played dumb. I'm good at it."
"Not nearly as good as you think you are, Ricky. I've seen the performance. It is unlikely to fool anyone who isn't already convinced of its veracity based on physical appearance. In other words, it is not going to convince an ancient fae who suspects you are the incarnation of her long-dead Lord."
"I wouldn't say incarnation."
Gabriel's voice chilled. "My point--"
"--is that we're leaving," I cut in. "We can see the bike. The gwragedd didn't follow us. She was just glad we didn't take her puppy."
"Puppy?"
"We thought it was a baby. Long story. Point is, she just wanted to see the backs of us, and she really did seem to think she was wrong about Ricky. We'll be leaving town in the morning. I just need to--"
"I would ask that you leave tonight. I understand it is late, but I have compiled a list of lodgings over an hour away. I will inqui
re and book if that is helpful. I have also checked flights from Chicago to Halifax."
"To do what?"
"Come out there, of course. If this gwragedd realizes what you both represent, Patrick suggests she could target you, Olivia, as a way of getting Ricky's attention."
"You can't come here. You don't have a passport."
"I'm sure my driver's license would suffice. It's only Canada. They hardly need to worry about terrorists invading from the US. That would be rather pointless."
"Yeah, sorry," Ricky said. "You do need a passport. It's not terrorists they're worried about. Just Americans in general, I think."
"Hey, I couldn't bring my gun," I said.
A pause. "You don't have your gun?"
"It's Canada. They frown on that."
"Please tell me you have your knife."
"Switchblades are illegal here, too, and as someone who plans to get her PI license, I can't have a cross-border weapons offense on my record. So no, I couldn't bring my gun or my switchblade but--"
"But you know what she did bring?" Ricky said. "Me."
Silence, the heaviness of it as thick as Maritime fog.
"I didn't mean to imply--" Gabriel began.
"Then don't. I never underestimate the danger to Liv. Never."
"Yes, I know. I simply--"
"You're thinking of the psych hospital last month. Where I lost her."
"Temporarily misplaced," I said, my voice light, trying to lift the mood.
"I was not implying--" Gabriel began.
"Yeah, you were," Ricky said. "But if you're going to swing that low, Gabriel, let me remind you of who went to that hospital with her. And who didn't because he was being a jackass, ignoring her calls, ignoring my attempts to make peace, ignoring us."
Ricky stopped and winced, rubbing the back of his neck as he mouthed an apology for turning this into a confrontation. I also knew why Gabriel offered to fly out here, which was preposterous and very un-Gabriel. He was falling over himself to make up for what he'd done, and that itself was awkward. The more he overcompensated for his mistake, the more I felt like a bitch for being upset.
I wasn't holding a grudge because Gabriel had ignored my messages. It was the rejection that hurt. I'd said we were friends, and he'd laughed, a mocking snort of a laugh that I could still hear. Over and over I heard it. Over and over I felt it.
I don't hold a grudge for that either. I just don't dare return to the kind of relationship where he can hurt me that badly. So when Ricky snapped at Gabriel, I felt a little bit vindicated. As if I wasn't such a fool for feeling hurt, because Ricky did too, and I'd never think less of him for it.