“Who’ll teach me?”
I looked off the mountain like the answer would come to me. It didn’t, so after a moment I shrugged my shoulders as well as my eyebrows. “I don’t know. Me, maybe, at least for a little while. I’ll have to find you somebody versed in magery, but I can teach you about the safeties and shielding, anyway.” Coyote would find that very ironic. Hell, I found it ironic. I also rubbed my forearm, the bite a dull itching throb. There’d been no more impulse to change since we got to the top of Croagh Patrick, but I was a little afraid of what would happen when we left. And staying there wasn’t an option. “She said we have to defeat the banshee queen.”
Méabh rounded on me again, this time in angry astonishment. “Why did ye not say so?”
“You were too busy yelling at me.”
She fell abruptly silent, which I thought was a pleasant change. “Cat, any idea where we find a banshee queen?”
My cousin eyed the silent warrior queen, then nervously said, “It’s Evil you’d want so.”
I sighed. “I’m pretty sure it’s evil we’re trying to defeat, yes. If you don’t know, that’s fine. We’ll…” I didn’t know what we’d do. I frowned, trying to clear my thoughts.
“No. Aibhill, Joanne. A-i-b-h-i-l-l. Aibhill,” she said one more time. It still sounded like evil to me, or maybe just slightly like “Ae-vil,” but I got the point even before she said, “The O’Brien banshee. Queen of the banshees, they say. It’s her we’d need to fight.”
“We?”
“Sure and I’m not leaving you now, just when it’s getting good.”
I smiled despite myself. “You sound like my friend Gary. I’ll introduce you. I hope.” I bit my lip, then bit it harder. “Okay. How do we find Aibhill?” I wasn’t sure I liked all the changes I’d gone through, particularly since I was now calmly contemplating hunting somebody down and killing her. Of course, the somebody in question was presumably a monster, but even so.
“The O’Briens were in Munster,” Caitríona said cautiously.
I squinted. “What’s wrong with Munster?” My sum total knowledge of Munster was that, like Connacht, it was one of the ancient Irish provinces. There was an Ulster and a something else, too. “So?”
“Nothing, save it’s as far away as we can get on this island. We’ll never make it before sunset.” Caitríona sagged. “Not get to the O’Brien lands, call up Aibhill and fight her, however it is we’d do that anyway. Auntie Sheila’s doomed.”
“Good attitude, good attitude.” I looked across the mountaintop at the remains of my mother’s bones. They still smoldered, a faint light coming from within. Maybe Wings was in there. I couldn’t leave him behind. Still thinking, I made my way toward the mess, aware that Méabh and Caitríona trailed behind me. “We’re going to have to try. I mean, I’ve got nothing else. Méabh, do you know anything about the magic of Munster?”
“It’s where I built an Mhór Chuaird,” she said after a moment.
Caitríona made an astonished sound of recognition as I sagged. She said, “The Ring of Kerry? But there’s no…” She trailed off, obviously suddenly wondering if what she knew was true. “No standing stones defining the ring. You couldn’t have built that, it’s just a tourist circle and it’s the size of the county itself.”
Méabh’s eyebrows quirked upward. “Large it was, but not so large as that. But at the heart of Kerry a circle once stood. If the stones are gone, then time has taken them. I couldn’t risk Tara, you see, and had to go as far from it as I could. All that old power there, even when I was young. What if it had gone wrong? What if my mother’s master had wrested control from me? Twisted the magic so the wolves were many instead of few? No.” Méabh shook her head. “It had to be a new circle, its power untried. So yes, I built the Ring of Kerry, and it’s pleased I am to hear its name still lingers.”
“That’s grand, we can go there then—” Caitríona stopped, remembering her own original protest.
It was only around eleven in the morning. We might have been able to make it into Munster, but the Ring of Kerry was, in fact, about as far away as a person could get and stay on the island. If Irish roads were broader and less twisty, it might not be an issue, but even I, who had cut my teeth on equally twisty Appalachian mountains, was dubious about my ability to get us into the Ring before sundown. And that didn’t even count the difficulty of finding its center in time to be of any use. “It can’t be Kerry,” I said, mostly to myself. “Brigid said it began and ended at Tara. We’re going to have to risk contaminating it. Maybe we can use it as a gauntlet, throw it down to challenge the banshee queen…” I got to Sheila’s immolated bones and trailed off.
It was not Wings lighting them up. It was a soft glow from a pit lying beneath the bones in a physically impossible manner. It looked like it went straight to China, or to whatever was opposite Ireland on the globe, and the ashy remains were resting quietly on the air above it, as if it didn’t really quite exist. I nudged a stone toward its edge.
The stone rolled in, bounced off the sides a couple times, and fell a long, long way. For a hole that didn’t exist, it was a very convincing fall. I cleared my throat and glanced at my companions. “Either of you do this?”
They obviously hadn’t. They also looked like I felt, which was to say, they suspected that in a few short minutes we would all be going down the rabbit hole, because rabbit holes did not appear in our lives for absolutely no reason at all. Tentative, I called on the Sight, and gave a rushed laugh of relief.
The pit glowed with white magic, with the power that had so recently scrubbed the mountain clean. It smelled, as my coat did, of stardust, and as a result I found myself trusting it.
“It looks safe,” Caitríona said dubiously, which suggested she was feeling the same effect I was. Méabh frowned at us both, but the expression lightened when she looked into the hole. Apparently she thought it looked safe, too.
“Isn’t that what Alice thought before she went down the rabbit hole?”
Caitríona, sounding very nineteen, said, “Oh, what the hell,” and dove in headfirst.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tuesday, March 21, 11:00 a.m.
I was not normally blessed with lightning-quick reflexes, but I snagged the back of Cat’s shirt just before she disappeared into the hole. Méabh, thank goodness, snagged the back of mine, preventing us both from tumbling headlong into its depths. Cat came up flush with disappointment, and I wagged a finger at her without being able to work myself up to a real scolding. Truth was, I wanted to dive right after her. All that stopped me was the dire uncertainty of whether we’d be coming back. That in and of itself didn’t bother me so much. I’d kind of gotten used to not knowing if I was coming back. But I’d never had somebody to say goodbye to before, not for real. I stopped wagging a finger at Caitríona, and walked a little distance away to call Morrison.
His phone rang while I tried to subtract time zones. It was something like four in the morning again, another totally uncivilized time to call, but he picked up fast, with a gruff, “I haven’t heard from him. Are you okay?”
I bit my lip, which made speaking clearly difficult, but I managed to say, “Not dead yet, anyway. How’s things there?”
“The usual.” He sounded very awake for a man I’d presumably woken up. “Baxter wonders if you quit because of the shooting, Ray Campbell is stomping around glaring at me like it’s all my fault and Holliday is preparing a lecture for when you get home. He’s used it on about half of Homicide already. He made one of them cry.”
The guys I worked with were generally a bunch of tough mooks. I gawked at the view, trying to imagine which of them might have been brought to tears, then heard Morrison’s faint breath of laughter. “Not really, Walker. He is ready to read you the riot act, though.”