“Died of a shattered soul,” Cuchulainn finished for her. He met Brighid’s gaze. “That’s what happened to him. I know it. It was happening to me.”
“Was?”
Cuchulainn ran his fingers lightly over the Healer’s symbol on the tomb’s door. “Was,” he said firmly. “It won’t happen to me. I can’t let it. Can you imagine the pain it would cause Brenna for me to meet her in the Otherworld, and for her to realize she had caused the deaths of two men she loved?” He shook his head. “No. You’re going to have to make the broken part of my soul return.”
“I don’t think I can actually make him do anything, Cu. He’s too damned much like you-well, only decidedly happier. You’re going to have to invite him to return, and make sure he believes it’s a true invitation.”
Cuchulainn grunted. “I’ll work on it.”
“You have until we reach MacCallan Castle. That is when I’ll make the Otherworld journey, may the Goddess help us.”
“So, a few more days,” he said. Then he stroked the Healer’s knot one last time. “I’m ready to go back.”
Did he mean back to MacCallan Castle, or to life? When he stopped to look at the graves one last time, she stayed respectfully silent. This was something Cuchulainn would have to work out. She could help him find the shattered piece of his soul, but the rest was up to him.
“Blue wildflowers.”
Brighid cut her eyes at him, surprised by the laughter in his voice. “Why are blue wildflowers funny?”
His eyes were filled with unshed tears, but he was smiling. “Brenna loved blue wildflowers. She said they reminded her of my eyes. She even collected things that were the exact shade of my eyes long before she met me.”
“Really?”
“She kept them on her altar to Epona. There was a feather from a bluebird, and a turquoise stone of the same shade, she even had a pearl that…”
A turquoise stone of the same shade. In the pocket of her vest she felt the weight of the blue stone pressing against her breast.
“What happened to the turquoise stone?” She interrupted him.
“I put it, and the rest of the things from her altar, in the tomb with her.”
Slowly the Huntress reached into her pocket and drew out the stone. Placing it flat on her open palm, she held it out to Cuchulainn. As soon as he saw it the warrior’s face paled. With shaking fingers, he picked it up and turned it over and over, studying it.
“Where did you get it?” His voice was thick with emotion.
Resigned, Brighid spoke the words aloud that she had barely admitted to herself. “A gold hawk, who I think is my spirit guide, dropped it on me. I-I think it’s supposed to be my soul-catching stone,” she finished in a rush.
“It came from the spirit realm?” he asked in a shaky voice.
“Is it the same stone you entombed with Brenna’s body?”
“Yes, I’m sure of it,” he whispered, staring at the stone.
“Then it definitely came from the spirit realm.”
“Do you think that means Brenna is somehow here, watching us?”
“I can’t answer that, Cu. But I do think it means your spirit is meant to be whole again, and I am meant to help you make that happen.”
Cuchulainn handed the stone back to her, and she slipped it into her vest pocket.
“We are a confused pair, Huntress,” Cuchulainn said.
“We most certainly are, my friend.”
Cuchulainn’s grunt of response was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Brighid quickly changed the subject.
“Ciara doesn’t think we need to keep watch over the camp tonight. She says the only malice she senses is from Fallon. She trusts the Guardian Warriors.”
“Let us just say that we’re tending the campfire then. We are within walls, but it’s still a cold part of the world. I would prefer the second watch,” Cuchulainn said.
Brighid’s eyes met his in perfect understanding. “Then I will take the first. That way our campfire will never be in danger of dying out.”
“Agreed.”
As they walked back to the campsite Brighid felt the warmth of the turquoise stone near her heart. Surprisingly it comforted her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Brighid didn’t want to dream. Not in Guardian Castle, home to too much ugly history. As she made herself comfortable within the pelts that were still warm from Cuchulainn’s body…still smelled of him…the Huntress took firm rein of her mind.
Not tonight, she ordered herself. She took three cleansing breaths and focused. Not tonight! She powered the thought with every bit of innate Shaman instinct in her blood and sent it hurtling out into the Otherworld-aimed directly at Cuchulainn’s shattered soul. Tomorrow, under the open skies of Partholon she would be better prepared to deal with the charismatic missing part of Cu. Tonight the story of Brenna’s tragic life was too fresh, and the castle surrounding her too filled with ghosts.
She fell asleep hoping the happiness Brenna had found at the end of her life had made up for the pain and tragedy of her youth.
At first Brighid didn’t realize she was dreaming. She was just happy to be back at MacCallan Castle. Home! And everything was heartbreakingly real. It was early, not yet dawn, so the Main Courtyard was deserted. The statue of the famous MacCallan ancestor, Rhiannon, poured musical water into a graceful marble fountain surrounded by benches and potted ferns. The ceiling-newly restored by MacCallan hands-had been left partially open to the sky so that predawn light mixed harmoniously with the wall sconces creating a soft, rose-colored glow.
The scene was familiar and dear. Normally Brighid woke before most of the castle, broke her fast, and hunted early. She smiled at the beauty of the mighty marble columns of the courtyard, marveling anew at the delicate knot work that meshed the plunging MacCallan mare with animals of the surrounding forest. From habit, she made her way through the spacious heart of the castle to the Main Hall.
The enticing fragrance of freshly baked bread wafted from the hall that served as both dining room and general meeting chamber. The room was usually empty this early-unlike the kitchen. But Brighid was used to breaking her fast alone. She enjoyed the solitude and the chance to order her thoughts for the hunt that day. Through the wall of etched beveled glass between the Great Hall and the Main Courtyard, Brighid was surprised to glimpse someone already seated for breakfast. Probably one of the cooks taking a much needed break. No matter, she liked the cook staff and wouldn’t mind the company.
The Huntress entered the chamber and stumbled to a shocked halt. Brenna sat at what had been her usual place at the Chieftain’s smooth pine table. Brighid had the sudden urge to blink and rub her eyes, but there was no mistaking the Healer. Her thick dark hair hung over her right shoulder, partially obscuring the latticework of deep scars that covered the right side of her body.
“I am dreaming,” was what blurted from Brighid’s numbed lips.
“You are, my friend.”
Brenna looked up at the centaur and smiled, and Brighid felt her heart squeeze. That dear, familiar lopsided smile! Tears filled the Huntress’s eyes, spilling over and running down her cheeks.
“Oh, Brighid, no! Please don’t do that.”
Brighid wiped quickly at her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Brenna. I didn’t expect…I didn’t even realize that I was dreaming until now. And I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too, Brighid.”
The Huntress wiped at her face again and drew a deep breath before approaching the spirit of the little Healer. Brenna looked so much the same! So real! Brighid mentally shook herself. Brenna was real-she was just spirit instead of body.
“No more tears?” Brenna said.
“No more tears.”
“Good. Our time is too short to waste.” Brenna sighed and let her gaze roam wistfully around the Great Hall. “It turned out so beautiful-just as I pictured it would when Elphame was describing it to us.”