The Solstice Cup Read online

  “Naught to get excited about,” the old woman replied. “A basket of eels, a few quail eggs and some herbs to season them.”

  “Fresh eels,” said the voice of a second man. “We shall look for them at tonight’s banquet.”

  Mackenzie listened intently, but the exchange seemed to be over. A few minutes later, the raft bumped into something solid.

  “Quickly,” the old woman whispered while Mackenzie and Breanne were still trying to regain their balance. She pulled off the cloak and motioned above their heads to a crude shack that stood above the water on stilts. A wooden ladder was lashed to one of the stilts.

  Breanne climbed up first, with Mackenzie right behind her. The ladder led through a trapdoor in the shack floor and into a small room that reeked of fish. There were two small paneless windows, which provided just enough light for Mackenzie to make out a pile of baskets and a bundle of wool blankets in one corner of the room and a tall wooden frame with threads strung across it in the opposite corner. There was a stool beside the wooden frame. It was the only piece of furniture visible in the shack.

  “’Tisn’t the grandest place, but it’s safe,” the old woman said as she climbed through the trapdoor behind them. “I’ll bring you food and drink, and you can stay here until the ways open again in seven nights.”

  “Wait a minute.” Breanne held up her hand. “We need some explanations. What is this ‘seven nights’ business you keep going on about? What are the ‘ways’? Why can’t we go back now? And who were those men you spoke with a few minutes ago? Where are we?”

  Maigret sat down on a tall, lidded basket behind her and folded her wrinkled hands in her lap. “You’ve passed between worlds, lass. You’re in the land below now. The Otherworld.”

  “What do you mean, the Otherworld?”

  “The home of the fair folk,” said Maigret. “The faerie.”

  Breanne folded her arms across her chest. “So you’re saying you’re a faery then.”

  “Not I,” said the old woman. “I’m as mortal as you are.”

  “Then what are you doing here?” Breanne demanded, one eyebrow lifted.

  Maigret shrugged. “A choice I made, many years ago.”

  “All right then,” Breanne said slowly, as if she were humoring a child. “So let’s say we really are in Faeryland. Why can’t we go home now?”

  “The ways—the passages between the worlds— open at the winter solstice,” said the old woman. “But they are open in only one direction until the solstice feasting is over. That’s seven nights hence. You’ll be free to leave then, unless—”

  “Unless?” said Mackenzie.

  The old woman leaned forward. “You were lured here for seven days by a bit of faerie gold. You are a guest here, but that could change if you are not wary.”

  “I don’t believe this,” said Breanne, rolling her eyes.

  “You’d best believe it, lass,” said Maigret, sitting up as tall as her tiny frame would allow. “You’ll be safe if you stay here, out of sight.”

  “And if we don’t?” Breanne demanded.

  “Seven days could become seven years. And that’s seven years in this world. No telling how much time would have passed in your world.” Maigret rose as she spoke and came toward Breanne. “I noticed you favoring your leg earlier. Were you injured on your way through?”

  Breanne’s cheeks flushed. “My leg is fine, thank you.”

  “It happened five years ago,” Mackenzie began. The icy look her sister gave her shut her up.

  “Five years old, is it? A pity,” the old woman said with a shrug. “My herbs could have helped when the injury was new, but there’s little they can do for you now. Your blue lips and shivering limbs are another matter. Those I can fix.” She turned toward the stack of blankets in the corner. “You’ll find new garments in that pile. A little coarser than the ones you’re wearing, but they’re clean and dry. You’ll be wanting some food too.” She opened one of the baskets on the floor beside her. “I’ll be back when I can with something fresher, but for now here’s bread and dried fish to take the edge off your hunger. And there’s water in this jug.”

  “Wait—where are you going?” Breanne asked as the old woman started back down the ladder.

  “I’ve business to take care of on the island,” said Maigret. “Don’t be frightened. Stay out of sight and no one will bother you while I’m gone. I’ll be back before morning.”

  “I’m not going to sit here all night, that’s for sure,” Breanne said after she and Mackenzie had both removed their wet clothes and changed into patched tunics.

  Mackenzie removed a chunk of hard bread and a handful of dried fish from one of the baskets in the corner. “Want some?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Actually, it’s not that bad,” Mackenzie said after she’d taken a few tentative bites.

  “That’s disgusting,” Breanne said with a grimace. “I can’t believe you put that stuff in your mouth.”

  “I’m hungry. We’re going to need to eat something if we’re stuck here for a week.”

  “We’re not going to be stuck here for a week,” said Breanne. “C’mon, Mackenzie, even you can’t be that gullible! Hey—quit chewing for a second,” she said suddenly. “I heard something.”

  Mackenzie listened with her sister, her muscles tensing. “It’s music. It’s the same music I heard before in the fog.”

  “But where’s it coming from?” Breanne asked as she pushed herself to her feet and went to one of the small windows.

  “Stop!” Mackenzie whispered. “What if someone sees you?”

  “Oh, please. You don’t really buy all that stuff about faeries, do you?” Breanne asked. “The old woman just wants company over the holidays. I bet we’re the only visitors she’s had in years. No wonder, if she really lives in this hovel.”

  “Please, Bree. Be careful!”

  “Calm down—no one can see me,” Breanne assured her sister. “Come look for yourself. There’s land over there. I bet we could wade to shore. The water can’t be very deep if the old woman can move her boat around with a pole.”

  Mackenzie crept toward the window. It had gotten darker since they’d entered the shack, but the land facing them was still visible as a low black mound dotted with twinkling lights. Some of the lights appeared to be moving, as if they were flashlights or lanterns.

  “Listen,” said Breanne. “That’s laughter and people singing. They’re having some kind of party over there.”

  “What are you doing?” Mackenzie asked.

  Breanne had returned to the center of the room and was pulling on her boots. “Are you kidding me?” she said as she balled up the wet clothes she’d removed earlier and stuffed them into an empty basket. “There are people over there! People who can help us get back to the farm. Not that I’m in a hurry to get back, but Aunt Joan has probably got the whole Irish army looking for us by now. Come on, grab your clothes!”

  Mackenzie shook her head. “I’m staying.”

  “What do you mean, you’re staying?”

  “I think we should wait here, like Maigret told us to.”

  “Are you crazy?” Breanne stared in disbelief at her sister. “You can’t be serious. What if she puts a lock on the trapdoor when she comes back? This is our chance to get away!”

  “I’m not crazy!” Mackenzie replied angrily. “But if we’d waited for Uncle Eamon like I wanted to, we wouldn’t be here! And we wouldn’t be here either if you hadn’t made us keep walking into the fog, or if you hadn’t gone after that stupid faery ring!”

  “Faery ring,” Breanne said in disgust. “You seriously believe that psycho?”

  “Well, what if she’s telling the truth?”

  Breanne’s entire head rolled back with her eyes this time. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Get real, Mackenzie. We’re lost, but we’re not in Faeryland!”

  “I don’t care what you say this time. I’m staying,” said Mackenzi
e.

  “Fine.” Breanne opened the trapdoor. “It’s not like I can drag you across the water. I’ll send someone to get you as soon as I can.”

  The shack seemed to get darker the instant Breanne disappeared down the ladder. Mackenzie waited a few seconds and then called down softly, “Breanne?”

  There was a faint splash. “I’m down,” said Breanne. “Throw me my basket of clothes.”

  “Wait,” said Mackenzie. “I really don’t think we should be separated.”

  “Are you coming then?”

  Mackenzie clenched her hands. “I don’t know—”

  “Well, make up your freakin’ mind! I’m up to my waist in freezing water.”

  “All right, all right—I’m coming.”

  “Get your clothes then,” said Breanne. “We’re not coming back.”

  Mackenzie quickly wrapped some bread, a few dried fish and a small jug of water in a scrap of cloth she found at the bottom of a basket. She stuffed the bundle into the basket with her wet clothes and started down the ladder.

  With every step they took toward the illuminated shoreline, Mackenzie’s heart beat a little faster. The music coming from the island made her feel strangely light-headed. Even the air was different the closer they got to land. It was thicker, and it left a sickly sweet aftertaste in her mouth.

  “This is wrong, Breanne,” Mackenzie whispered when they were only a few dozen yards offshore. “Can’t you feel it? It’s like a giant magnet is pulling us in. Let’s go back, before it’s too late.”

  “Too late for what?” Breanne said. “This is cool! Someone’s having an awesome party over here, and we get to crash it!”

  Mackenzie stopped. “Just this once, listen to me,” she begged. “We’re in way over our heads this time.”

  Breanne was still wading forward. She didn’t respond.

  “Please, Breanne, what about Maigret’s warning?”

  “What about it?” Breanne said with a dismissive laugh. “I’m not going to sit in a dirty shack for a week and miss this. This is like something from a dream!”

  “Or a nightmare,” Mackenzie said as her sister continued moving toward the shore. “Wait, Breanne. Wait!”

  Breanne looked over her shoulder. “Don’t you ever get tired of being such a wuss, Mackenzie? Go back and hide if you want to. I’m going to have some fun.”

  “Please, Bree!”

  Mackenzie held her breath for a few seconds. The water rippled around her as she started moving forward again.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Mackenzie stepped out of the water a few seconds after her sister. She let the borrowed tunic she’d been holding above her waist fall back to her ankles.

  “All right, we’re here,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “What’s next, according to your great plan?”

  Breanne hid her basket in a recess between two small boulders at the foot of a tall stone wall. “Now we check out the party.”

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Mackenzie muttered, trying to ignore the tightening in her chest. She rummaged in her own basket until she found the small bundle that held the food and water she’d grabbed from Maigret’s shack. She slipped the bundle down the front of her bulky tunic and retied her belt. It was awkward, but it allowed her to keep both hands free. When she was satisfied that the provisions were secure, she hid her basket beside her sister’s.

  “Come on, over here,” Breanne beckoned.

  Mackenzie followed her sister to the base of a steep staircase, dimly lit by torches. She looked up and shook her head. “I can’t do it.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t do it?” Breanne said. She was already on the fifth stair.

  “I mean this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, and I’m not following you anymore.”

  “Oh, whatever,” said Breanne. “I’m sick of listening to you whine.”

  Mackenzie watched her sister drag her left leg after her right one up the stairs. Breanne hesitated for a second at the top and then disappeared.

  “She didn’t even turn around,” Mackenzie muttered in disbelief. She waited for a few moments, willing her sister to reappear at the top of the steps. When the stairs remained empty, she looked back toward the water. Maigret’s shack wasn’t visible in the dark. “I hate you sometimes, Breanne!”

  Mackenzie took a deep breath and forced herself to start climbing. Her heart nearly stopped when a hand reached for her at the top of the stairs.

  “It’s only me,” Breanne whispered as she pulled Mackenzie into a dark alcove. “I can’t believe it—look! It is Faeryland!”

  Mackenzie stared openmouthed at the scene in front of them. Illuminated by flickering yellow torches, a procession of masked merrymakers leapt and spun down an avenue lined with leafless trees. The dancers seemed to grow and shrink and even change shape as they moved in and out of the shadows. Mackenzie caught glimpses of hooves, antlers and giant wings. Everything was in motion. She felt dizzy just watching the flickering scene.

  Mackenzie stepped back against the stone wall behind her and tried to catch her breath. “All right, we’ve seen it—can we please go now?”

  “We’re not exactly dressed for this party, are we?” said Breanne, raising a hand to her wet hair.

  “Not exactly,” Mackenzie said, her voice strained. She grabbed her sister’s arm. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “I was kidding,” Breanne said. “Who cares what we look like? We’re never going to get another chance like this!”

  Before Mackenzie could react, Breanne wrenched her arm away and launched herself into the teeming crowd. The dull fabric of her tunic disappeared almost instantly in the sea of exotic colors.

  “Breanne!” Mackenzie called. Her voice was lost in the music and the clamor of the dancing throng. With no time to think, she leaped after her sister.

  It was like falling back into the dark river that had swept them underground. The dancers surged forward, and Mackenzie was carried along with them, past the spot where she’d last seen Breanne. She heard a strange hissing, clicking chorus rise around her. Bony fingers poked and prodded her body. Terrified, she tried to fight her way back to the edge of the crowd.

  A hand closed around her arm before she could escape. “You look lost,” a voice purred in her ear.

  The world around her stopped spinning long enough for Mackenzie to turn and look into the face of a tall, slender young woman in a shimmering cloak. Her skin was so pale it was almost blue, and she had large silver eyes. Mackenzie was sure the woman was a faery.

  Her arm tingled unpleasantly under the faery woman’s fingers. She tried to pull away, but the faery’s grasp was firm.

  “Trust me, this is no place for a human child by herself,” she said. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m taking you somewhere quiet where we can introduce ourselves properly.” She didn’t wait for a reply. The current that had been too strong for Mackenzie didn’t seem to exist for her. Mackenzie didn’t protest as the faery dragged her through the throng.

  “Much better,” the faery said when they had reached the edge of the crowd and turned onto a quieter path. “Now tell me your name, and you’ll be under my protection.”

  Mackenzie hesitated.

  “Quickly!” the faery said impatiently, squeezing Mackenzie’s arm. “I can’t keep you safe without it. You’re lucky I was the first to find you. There are Pookas around that would swallow your soul as soon as look at you.”

  “My name—” Mackenzie swallowed. “My name is Mackenzie.”

  “Is that it? Is that the whole thing?”

  Mackenzie shook her head. “It’s Mackenzie Brooke Howell.”

  “Mackenzie Brooke Howell,” the faery repeated carefully, her eyes glittering. Her lips curled up in an almost feline smile of satisfaction. “You can call me Nuala, Mackenzie. We’re going to have fun together, you and I! But you must be tired and hungry if you’ve just arrived.” Her gaze moved down to Mackenzie’s tunic. “And you can’t b
e comfortable in that ugly thing. Come with me. We’ll find you something much nicer.”

  Mackenzie looked over her shoulder anxiously. “But my sister—I lost her back there somewhere. I need to find her.”

  “You have a sister here as well?” Nuala tilted her head, as if considering how to use this information. “A pity you didn’t tell me right away,” she said with a shrug. “Someone else will have claimed her by now.” She tugged at Mackenzie’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “But I can’t go anywhere,” said Mackenzie, her voice climbing. “What if one of those things that swallows souls has Breanne? I need to find her… ouch!” Mackenzie stopped abruptly, startled by a sudden burning sensation where the faery’s fingers held her arm. Her skin felt as if it had brushed against a stinging nettle plant.

  Nuala’s eyes had lost their shimmer. “There’s no need to get hysterical. I’m sure your sister is fine. Now—you’re tired and hungry, aren’t you?” she asked calmly.

  Mackenzie’s heart was lodged in her throat. “A—a little,” she whispered.

  “Good. Then follow me.”

  The music and noise got fainter as Nuala led Mackenzie down a long, torch-lit path lined with leafless trees and thorn bushes. More than once Mackenzie was sure she heard someone following them, but when she turned her head she saw only shadows. Tiny bells on Nuala’s slippers jangled with every step. The faery hummed softly as they walked, a melancholy tune that made Mackenzie feel even more uneasy.

  “Through here,” the faery said at last.

  They’d come to a tall stone archway at the end of the path. Beyond the arch, Mackenzie saw a low mound silhouetted against the night sky. A wide set of stone stairs descended into the ground at the base of the mound.

  Mackenzie felt a prickling sensation run through her body as Nuala led her under the arch. Then they were on the stairs, going down into the earth. They passed under another stone arch and entered a corridor dimly lit by more torches. Mackenzie was surprised by the size of the corridor. It was wide enough for a dozen people to walk side by side, and long enough that she couldn’t see where it ended. More passages branched off from both sides of the corridor.