Wolf would want to go to the Otherworld was a complete mystery.
Fehin had heard tales of the mystical Otherworld from his mother. People she knew had pulled the place back from the brink of destruction. Unfortunately it was Fehin’s father who had instigated the war to begin with. But then again Fehin wouldn’t be on the earth if his mother and Brandubh hadn’t met during that terrible time.
Peace had prevailed there ever since. Was something happening that he should know about? With that question an image arrived in his mind: a shimmering sun-drenched meadow full of wildflowers, a wide rushing river lined with rushes and cattails and on the hill behind it, a rustic cottage. There was a girl standing at the front door, a bright halo of hair surrounding her heart-shaped face, and her wide eyes were focused on him. But that was impossible. He frowned and shook his head to clear the vision. The thought of Wolf anywhere near her gave him a very bad feeling. Who was she?
2
The Otherworld, 2021
“What is the name of that island?” Airy Fitzhugh’s slender finger pointed into the distance, sunlight sparkling off the large moonstone ring she had just been given for her upcoming birthday. The stone glowed for a moment, subsiding into its normal pearl gray as she lowered her hand. It was a bright day and she and MacCuill were walking along the beach discussing various topics the druid had picked for her edification.
MacCuill squinted, holding a hand over his eyes to shade the sun. “I don’t see anything.”
Airy swung her gaze toward his. “You don’t see that?”
The druid shook his head. “I see dark water and a light mist in the far distance.”
“It’s in the mist. It’s right there!” Airy slanted a puzzled look his way. How could he not see it? He was a druid and all knowing.
He smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe you have some things to teach me as well, Airy.”
That statement did nothing to reassure her. MacCuill was her mentor, instructing her about her heritage and what she might become once she was of age. She came from a long line of witches with varying abilities ranging from seeing into the future to moving through the ether. But MacCuill was really old and his powers were way beyond anything she would ever have. “But why can I see it and you can’t?”
“I have no answer for you. Perhaps your mother can come up with an explanation.”
“I’m sure this is the first time I’ve spotted it. That’s strange, isn’t it?”
MacCuill nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It could be significant.”
Airy scrunched her eyebrows together and then absentmindedly worked her hair into a thick braid. When she focused on the island again she had a funny feeling in her chest.
MacCuill had recently told her about some kind of bad energy that had either arrived or was going to arrive; she was distracted easily and sometimes didn’t pay close enough attention. The main thing she remembered was that he seemed disturbed by what it might signify. From what she’d heard over the years this was how the war fifteen years ago had begun. Could the island be the start of another horrible conflict?
“Enough for today,” MacCuill said a few minutes later, stopping to face her. “Give your mother my love. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
He gave her a fatherly pat on the head and then walked away, his long robe swinging with each step he took. She’d never had the nerve to ask him how old he was—he must be in his mid-hundreds by now.
Airy’s gaze was on her feet as she crossed the bridge over the river and headed toward the cottage at the top of the hill. She barely noticed the ducks along the edge of the water until their quacking drew her attention. “What’s going on?” she asked. Instinctively she knew that one of them had lost several newly hatched ducklings to the fox that denned along the bank.
“I’m sorry,” she said, kneeling down to take a closer look. The female was distraught, swimming in ever-widening circles and the male seemed equally upset, his head swiveling from side to side as if watching for the fox. “He has to eat too,” she whispered, trying to console them, but it did no good.
Airy left the ducks and headed across the meadow filled with late summer wild flowers. Life was cruel sometimes.
Facet, her pony, whinnied when he saw her and then trotted over to the