Among the Unseen Read online

  BY JODI MCISAAC

  The Thin Veil Series

  Through the Door

  Into the Fire

  Among the Unseen

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2014 Jodi McIsaac

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by 47North, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  ISBN-13: 9781477819845

  ISBN-10: 1477819843

  Cover design by becker&mayer! LLC

  Illustrated by Gene Mollica

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013954685

  FOR WILLOW

  CONTENTS

  PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

  If you haven’t figured out how to pronounce these words by now, don’t worry: I haven’t, either. But the guide below should give you a very general sense of how some people in the Irish-speaking world say these words. You are, as always, free to pronounce them however you like.

  Brighid—BREE yit

  Ériu—AY roo

  Fionnbharr—FYUN var

  Fionn mac Cumhaill—FYUN mac COOL

  gancanagh—gan CAH nah

  leannán sí—LAH nawn SHEE

  Lia Fáil—LEE-ah FOIL

  Manannan mac Lir—Man na non mac LEER

  Niamh—NEE uv

  Nuala—NOO uh la

  Oisín—USH een

  Ruadhan—ROO awn

  sidh—SHEE

  sidhe (plural of sidh)—SHEE

  Tara—TAH ra

  Teamhair—T’yower

  Tír na nÓg—TEER na NOHG Toirdhealbhach MacDail re

  Deachai—TUR a lakh mac DOLL ray DAW hai

  Tuatha Dé Danann—TOOa ha DAY DONN an

  CHAPTER 1

  Again, she told herself. Taking a deep breath, Cedar held her palms flat in front of her. Small white flames flickered in the air above them. She closed her eyes and willed the energy flowing through her arms to gradually build, causing the flames to shoot up higher. Slowly, she brought them down again. Control it. Keep it steady. She opened her eyes a crack and checked to see how she was doing. The flames held steady, dancing and flickering on her palms but staying right where she wanted them. If only I’d had this power sooner, she thought, then reprimanded herself, closing her eyes again and trying to concentrate on the flames. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about them.

  But it was too late. The images started to pour into her mind, and no matter how tightly she squeezed her eyes shut, she could not block them out. Her adoptive mother, lying in the dirt, covered in blood. Eden’s sweet, innocent face twisted in terror as Liam—gentle, kind, treacherous Liam—tortured her mind. Jane’s blackened figure, burnt beyond recognition. Finn’s convulsions of agony as Liam slashed at him again and again with a crystal dagger.

  She opened her eyes and flinched. The field she was standing in was engulfed in raging white flames. The brightly colored poppies Finn had grown for her were snapping and crackling and crumbling into ash. She swore loudly, then raised her arms and concentrated on bringing the flames under control, drawing them in until only a puff of smoke lingered over the charred field. Her control over her newfound abilities had come to her so easily, so naturally when she’d used them to defeat the druids while standing on the Lia Fáil. And she could still wield her powers effortlessly…unless she let her memories get the better of her. “Just relax,” Finn had told her. “Imagine that you’re painting, and the flames are the colors.” She appreciated the metaphor, but relaxing was harder than it looked. Nuala is dead, she told herself. Liam is dead. But they hadn’t been working alone, and Cedar would not rest until she knew her family was safe.

  She was queen now, as strange as that still sounded to her. And she could relax as soon as every last druid who had been working with Nuala was found and imprisoned. She had captured all the ones who’d attacked her and her family and friends on the Hill of Tara, sending them via sidh to Maeve’s workshop. From there they’d been transported through another sidh to guarded cells in Tír na nÓg. Still, she had no idea how many others had been working with Nuala and Liam. She massaged her jaw, trying to unclench it.

  Cedar took a grim look at the charred field all around her and decided she’d practiced enough with fire for the day. Drawing in another deep breath, she gently closed her eyes. When she opened them, the air in front of her was shimmering like a sprinkling of fairy dust. She exhaled slowly. Through the sparkling air she could see a gentle green glade at the foot of a misty waterfall, one of her favorite retreats.

  Being queen came with a lot of benefits, but privacy wasn’t one of them. So even though Cedar technically wasn’t supposed to leave her own home without an entourage of guards and servants, she took advantage of the fact that she could go anywhere she wanted, anytime she wanted, without stepping foot outside her front door. Finn didn’t like it, which was becoming a source of tension between them. She had thought he would become less protective now that their lives weren’t in immediate danger, but he still got nervous whenever she used the sidhe to do a little exploring, even when she created one from Felix’s house to Jane’s apartment, which, to her delight, was becoming a regular occurrence.

  Stepping into the scenic glade, Cedar sank down onto the tender grass, feeling the tension leave her body. She’d spent as much time as she could spare exploring her new kingdom, which was coming back to life after years of poisoning. She’d only discovered the glade last week, but it was already her favorite place to go when she felt overwhelmed by how much her life had changed over the past few months.

  She stretched languorously as she watched the sunlight shimmer through the mist of the waterfall, feeling as if she were inside one of her own sidhe. The gentle roar of the falls helped soothe her stressed nerves. Perhaps she would bring Eden here later.

  Today was Eden’s seventh birthday, and Cedar had planned a surprise party for later in the afternoon, complete with balloons and cakes and Eden’s favorite foods. She had invited all their friends and family here in Tír na nÓg. She knew it wouldn’t be as much fun for Eden as celebrating with a room full of little girls, but she hoped the party would help her feel at home. There was just one thing Cedar couldn’t duplicate: Eden’s grandmother had always been a big part of the festivities each year. Cedar hoped Eden’s memory of her gran’s death wouldn’t ruin her special day.

  Cedar’s thoughts lingered on Maeve, as they so often did when she was alone. The tears for her adoptive mother had finally come in this sacred and quiet glade, where she didn’t have to be strong, or make decisions, or solve problems—where she could just be. She wondered what Maeve would think of what she had done and who she had become. Would she be proud of her? Or would she be angry with Cedar for embracing her true identity and moving with Eden to Tír na nÓg? Ceda
r would never know, but she chose to believe that she and Maeve had reached an understanding before she died. If Maeve could have only seen beyond her broken heart, beyond her obsession with Brogan, she would have realized that the Tuatha Dé Danann are a wonderful, noble people. Flawed, yes, but no more so than any other race.

  As Cedar thought about Maeve, her mind inevitably turned toward Halifax and her old life there. She missed it more than she’d expected. She actually missed her work as a graphic designer, and felt nostalgic for the simple, small things like her morning walk to work along the harbor, casual office banter, and Friday work lunches at the local pub, which often lingered well into the afternoon. She missed the smell of warm concrete, the rustic beauty of a maritime autumn, and the sound of seagulls’ cries over the water. And she missed her apartment, which had been a total write-off after Liam and his fellow druids had destroyed it in a fire. As she lay on the grass, staring up at the blue sky, she found herself craving a strong coffee and sesame seed bagel. Something familiar…something like home. Just one more time.

  Her stomach fluttered nervously at the thought, but why not? It wouldn’t be her first trip back to Earth since becoming queen. After her first chaotic week on the throne, she, Finn, and Eden had spent a few days at Brighid’s island retreat. It had been strange at first, spending time with the woman whom she’d once deemed a rival for Finn’s affection. But by the end she’d been reluctant to leave behind Brighid’s huge personality and wild tales, not to mention her in-depth knowledge about the world that Cedar now ruled. Cedar had asked Brighid to come back to Tír na nÓg for a while, but the Elder goddess had only laughed and politely declined, saying that she’d be happy for them to visit her anytime.

  Cedar had also paid a stealth visit to Maeve’s grave in Chester to rip out the rosebush Liam had planted and set it on fire. Maeve had never asked for his affection, and Cedar hadn’t wanted his token to despoil her mother’s grave any longer. Finn had been angry that she had gone—and gone alone. But what he hadn’t understood was that she’d needed to do it by herself. Even though the druid was dead, his betrayal still burned like an open wound. She had hoped that ripping out the rosebush would give her some sort of closure. It hadn’t.

  Finn would have called her reckless for even considering another trip to Earth. And maybe it was true—she did feel a little reckless. But she had lived there for her entire life; why shouldn’t she go back and visit as long as she was discreet? It’s not like she was going to open a sidh in the middle of a crowded street. Leaving the waterfall behind, she walked slowly back into the scorched poppy field. She knew she did have to be discreet, particularly when opening a sidh to Earth. She wasn’t the only one who wanted to go there, after all. Now that she and Eden both had the gift to create the sidhe, there had been a clamoring of requests to reopen the passageways between Tír na nÓg and the land the Danann called Ériu. So far, Cedar had adamantly refused. There were still those who believed humans were a blight to be snuffed out, and she didn’t dare give them access to Earth. Still, it was safe for her to open a sidh from her home, which could be accessed by no one but their immediate family. None of the other Danann need ever know.

  It was still early morning, and Jane’s new apartment, two floors below the one that had gone up in flames, would be a safe place for her to pass through. Leaving her sidh to the waterfall glade open for Finn or Eden to close, she created a new one to Jane’s apartment. She plucked a poppy that had somehow managed to survive her fire mishap and tossed it through the shimmering air as a way of announcing her arrival, remembering the time she had walked in on Jane and Felix getting to know each other better in the living room. She tiptoed through. It was dark when she entered, which meant Jane was probably still asleep in her bedroom. Sinking down onto her old sofa, Cedar released a drawn-out sigh. All of Jane’s belongings had been destroyed in the druids’ fire, so Cedar had given her friend her own furniture, which she’d put into storage before the move to Tír na nÓg. Jane had graciously accepted the modern pieces, and then set about scouring flea markets for decor that was more “her thing.” It felt strange, sitting in this new place with her old belongings. A metaphor for her life, she mused.

  Maybe I should wake Jane? Her friend didn’t hide the fact that she wanted to see her more often. Cedar felt the same way. Before moving, she hadn’t realized how much she relied on Jane for advice…and sanity. Still, she didn’t want to disturb her friend’s rest. She switched on a lamp and then went into the kitchen and reached for the jar on top of the fridge, where she knew Jane kept an emergency stash of money. She slipped a bill out and wrote her friend a note—I owe you $10. Was craving a bagel. Will come for a real visit soon! xo—Cedar

  That done, she headed down the stairs, luxuriating in the thrill of anticipation she felt at such a simple thing. Sleeping in on Saturday mornings was a foreign concept for Eden, so Cedar had made a habit of bringing her to the bagel shop down the street for breakfast. Cedar would sip coffee and have a sesame bagel with plain cream cheese and read the newspaper, while Eden would munch on a chocolate chip bagel with strawberry cream cheese, her nose stuck in a book. It had been calm and peaceful—two things that didn’t play a big part in Cedar’s current life.

  Mike, the shop owner, was just opening the doors when she arrived. “Well, now, look who’s come back!” he exclaimed at the sight of Cedar. “We’ve not seen you in here for ages! I thought you must have moved away. Where’s your little one? The chocolate chip bagels are fresh out of the oven!”

  Cedar laughed nervously. “We did move, actually,” she said, trying to think up an alibi on the fly. “We’re just here to visit some friends. But I’ll take a chocolate chip bagel for Eden. And I’ll have my usual.” She smiled as she imagined how Eden would react to her favorite treat.

  “Did you really?” he asked, handing her a cup of coffee and putting her bagel in the toaster. “Where you living now, then?”

  “Uh, Montreal,” she improvised, starting to think this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. What if one of her old colleagues from work walked in? She’d left Ellison with virtually no notice, and Jane had told her about the rumors that were still swirling around the office. She just wanted a bagel, not an inquisition. “Can I get that to go?” she asked as she watched him slather on the cream cheese.

  “Sure you can,” Mike said. “I suppose you’ve got lots of people to visit while you’re back?”

  She nodded, then handed him the ten-dollar bill and said, “Keep the change. Nice to see you again!”

  “Happy Thanksgiving!” he called, but she was already out the door.

  She’d forgotten—it was Thanksgiving weekend here in Canada, not that such holidays were celebrated in Tír na nÓg. She thought about heading back to Jane’s apartment, but it was a gorgeous fall day, warm for this time of year, and the cry of the seagulls and the smell of the ocean were too intoxicating to leave behind. She pulled her bagel out of the bag and took a bite, letting the taste and smell and feel of the warm bread assault her senses in the most wonderful way. The food in Tír na nÓg was exceptional, but this, this tasted like home. She found a bench close to the waterfront and sat down, watching as a lone sailboat drifted past. Maybe we could come back for weekends, she thought idly. Just so we can spend our Saturday mornings here.

  A sudden movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She whirled around, but there was nothing there. Still, she felt unsettled. It was risky coming back to Earth, and she knew it…Enemy druids could be anywhere. She stood up and looked around, but the only other person in sight was a solitary jogger running in the opposite direction. If she had her way, she would bring every single druid on Earth in for questioning, but that task seemed impossible. There was no central registry of druids, and even the druids themselves did not know where all the others were.

  She kept her head down as she walked back to the apartment, hoping she wouldn’t bump into anyone she knew. Time to be responsible, she supposed. Jane
still hadn’t emerged from her room, so she stepped back through the sidh into the poppy field. There she found Finn, standing with his hands on his hips, his eyes dark as he eyed the half-eaten bagel in her hands.

  “We do have food here, you know,” he said stiffly, waving a hand at both the sidh to Jane’s apartment and the one leading to the green glen, causing the shimmering air to return to normal.

  “I needed some comfort food,” she muttered. “I can do the sidhe just fine, but the fire is still giving me trouble. Obviously.” She looked ruefully at the blackened field around them, and then wiped a bit of cream cheese off the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Cedar, you can’t keep doing that,” he said. “It’s not safe.”

  “I was careful,” she said, not quite looking at him. “No one saw me.”

  Finn looked like he wanted to argue some more, but instead he asked, “You miss it, don’t you?”

  “I do,” she admitted. “But I also love it here. It’s just…a lot to adjust to, that’s all.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “I know. It’s a bit different than when we were first dating, isn’t it?”

  She smiled, remembering those carefree days. She had never stopped loving Finn while he was away, but she knew that they’d both changed. It was a peculiar place to be in—sometimes she felt like they had never been apart, and other times she wondered who this strange man was lying next to her, playing father to her child.

  “It means so much to me that you’re here,” he said, his voice muffled by her hair.

  She rested her head on his chest, taking comfort in the steady beating of his heart. These first few weeks in Tír na nÓg had been so busy for both of them, and she wanted more than anything to just spend a lazy day with him and Eden. “It means so much to me that you’re here,” she said. “Who else would regrow a poppy field for me—again?”