Chapter Thirty
Rachel
The clan gathering turned into something none of us could ever have imagined. I'm not talking about the Witches' Confrontation or the supernatural battle. No, I am referring to what transpired after that. The clans came together like never before, hashing out old grievances, discovering new friendships, and fundamentally altering the dynamics among the clans.
Aye, everything has changed. And it's wonderful.
Nine days after the Witches' Confrontation, Guarin Abadie comes to visit us again, and I look forward to hearing his tales of the other continent---Europe---and his travels through England as well as Scotland. The women in the family all agree with me that both countries reside on the same continent. However, the men---Joey included---disagree.
"Don't you girls have maps?" Joey asks with no small measure of sarcasm. "Britain is an island. Europe is a continent. Everybody knows that---except for Scottish women."
His smirk assures me he's being silly with his comment about Scottish women. He is entirely serious about the continent versus island debate, however. I roll my eyes at Joey's teasing, but I can't quash the smile that tugs at my lips.
"Aye, Joey, and I suppose you've sailed 'round the whole of Britain to prove it?" I retort, matching his sarcasm.
Guarin chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Ah, mes amis , perhaps we should consult the spirits on this matter. They might have a unique perspective, non ?"
"Don't you dare summon any spirits, Guarin," I warn, only half-joking. After the chaos of the Witches' Confrontation, I've had quite enough of supernatural meddling for a long while. Still, I haven't given up on my magics, and I never will.
Joey raises an eyebrow. "Wait, can Guarin actually do that?"
Before I have time to answer, a gust of wind sweeps through the room, rustling papers and causing the candles to flicker. I freeze, my eyes darting to Guarin. His expression has shifted from jovial to serious in an instant.
"I did not do that," he affirms. "I would have no idea how to create such a disturbance."
Joey's hand instinctively moves to his side, where I know he keeps a small dagger hidden ever since the calamity during the clan gathering. His New York street smarts have adapted well to our Highland ways. "Rachel, what's happening?"
I shake my head, my own magic stirring within me. "I don't know. Ne'er have I felt anything like this."
The whirls around us, forming a vortex in the center of the room. Papers and small objects fly through the air, and I'm forced to squint against the force of it. Through the maelstrom, I catch glimpses of something forming---shapes, shadows, figures that flicker in and out of existence.
As the wind howls, I experience a familiar tingling in my fingertips---my magic responding to the otherworldly energy swirling around us. I reach out, grasping Joey's hand while also gripping Guarin's. Their warmth grounds me as I focus my dà-shealladh , trying to puncture the mantle of chaos that swirls everywhere around us.
"It's a portal," I gasp, my voice barely audible above the din. "But like none I've ever seen before."
Joey grips my hand like a vise. "Another time jump?"
Before I can utter one syllable in response, the vortex unexpectedly contracts, collapses into a shimmering disc of swirling green fog. Through the haze, I catch glimpses of a world both familiar and alien---mist-shrouded mountains, ancient standing stones, and figures moving in the shadows. I can't believe what I'm seeing.
"The Otherworld," I whisper, awe and trepidation mingling in my voice. "We're looking into the realm of the Daoine Maithe ."
Joey's eyes widen, but his New York skepticism kicks in, spurring him to become suspicious of the impossible sight before him. " Daoine Maithe ? As in Scottish fairies? You've got to be kidding me."
But there's no denying the otherworldly beauty and danger emanating from the portal. The air sizzles with ancient magic, far older and wilder than anything I've encountered before.
Great-Aunt Efrica rushes to my side. "Rachel, we must close the portal. The veil between worlds is not meant to be pierced so carelessly."
I reach for my power, but before I can act, a figure emerges from the swirling green mist. Tall and ethereal, with skin like moonlight and eyes that shift colors like a kaleidoscope, the being steps into our world with preternatural grace. A lump forms in my throat as I recognize the unmistakable features of a member of the Daoine Maithe---the good folk.
"Children of the mortal realm, " the female fairy states, her melodious voice resonating with power. "It seems the winds of change have blown open doors long sealed."
Joey tenses beside me, his hand inching toward his concealed weapon. Mortal steel would be useless against such a being.
"My lady," I manage to say, dipping into a curtsy and pulling Joey down into an awkward bow. "We meant no disrespect by this...unexpected opening."
"Never mind that, child." The female steps closer, standing between me and Joey as she studies us with a slight smile on her lips. "I am àille, Banrigh of the Daoine Maithe."
I am awed by her presence, barely able to speak. This radiant creature is Banrigh---or Queen of the Good Folk.
"The Witches' Confrontation has caused a rift in the time stream," the queen tells us. "You, Rachel and Joey, are the only ones who can fix it. But doing so requires you to go into the future---Joey's past---to find where the rift occurred."
"What will happen if we can't do that?" Joey asks.
"It's best if you do not know." The queen steps backward. "Now, it is time for you embark on a journey through time. But take care not to leave any traces that might affect the future or the past."
"Wait," I say, feeling foolish for speaking so boldly to the Banrigh. "What about the book? We searched for it but couldnae find it."
"All will become clear at the appropriate moment. Your minds are the only tools you shall need. Blessed be, my children."
"But I---"
The Banrigh waves her hand in a flourishing gesture---and vanishes.
"But she didnae send us---" My words are cut off as a vortex engulfs us, and we are hurled into the future. Bright light blinds me momentarily, then I turn to Joey. "We are inside Dùndubhan, in the long gallery."
"How do you know that? This is the modern version."
"I know because I have been here before, in a way. I told you that my dà-shealladh showed me visions of the past as well as the modern world."
"Oh, right. I almost forgot."
I pat his cheek. "Dinnae fash. It has been a whirlwind since the day you fell out of the sky and into my arms."
"We need to be careful. I don't see many people in here right now, but another tour might arrive any second."
Joey scans the long gallery, surveying the modern furnishings, the artwork that now adorns the ancient walls of Dùndubhan---and the glass cases filled with medieval weapons. "So, we're in the future? Or, I guess, my present?"
"Aye." My own gaze darts around the room as I search for any clues to our exact timeline. "It seems so. But when exactly, I cannae say."
As we cautiously explore the gallery, I can't help but marvel at how different yet familiar everything feels. The bones of the castle remain the same, but the trappings of modernity---electric lights, sleek furniture, and what I recognize as security cameras---create a jarring contrast to the Dùndubhan I know.
"Rachel," Joey's voice draws my attention. He stands in front of a large painting, his brows wrinkled. "Look at this."
I move closer to examine the painting Joey's fixated on. It's a grand portrait, ornate and clearly ancient, depicting a gathering of clan leaders. My breath catches as I recognize familiar faces---ancestors I've only known through stories and my own visions.
"That's Bróccin MacTaggart," I whisper, pointing to a stern-faced man in the center. "My great-great grandfather. And there, that's Gelis Campbell---she was said to be one of the most powerful witches of her time."
"What do we do now?"
Before I can answer, a noise from the hallway catches our attention. Footsteps, growing closer.
"Quick," I hiss, grabbing Joey's arm and pulling him behind a large display case. We crouch down to hide and wait for an opportunity to slip away.
"...and this is the Long Gallery," a crisp, professional voice announces. "Home to some of Dùndubhan's most precious historical artifacts."
I risk a peek around the edge of the display case, my heart racing. A small tour group enters the gallery, led by a smartly dressed woman in a blazer. Her polished accent marks her as English, and I assume she's a professional guide.
"As you can see," she continues, gesturing to the very painting we were just examining, "this portrait depicts a crucial moment in clan history. The Great Gathering of 1426, where alliances were forged that would shape the future of the Highlands."
Joey shifts beside me, his breath warm against my ear as he whispers, "The year 1426? Is that an important year in your family?"
"Aye, 'tis the year when the MacTaggart book of magics vanished. The story goes that a witch from our clan cast a spell that went awry, and that's how the book was lost."
"Then we need to find it, huh?"
"Aye, we do. But no one has ever been able to find it despite many attempts to do so." I cannae move, barely daring to breathe as the tour group moves closer to our hiding spot. The guide's voice drones on, explaining the significance of various artifacts, but my mind is whirling with the implications of what we've learned.
Suddenly, a small boy at the back of the tour group breaks away, darting toward our hiding spot with the reckless abandon only a child can muster. My heart leaps into my throat as his curious eyes scan the display case, inching ever closer to our concealment.
Joey tenses beside me, ready to spring into action if needed.
I squeeze his arm, silently willing him to stay still. The last thing we need is to cause a scene and alter the timeline even further.
Just as the boy's gaze is about to land on us, a stern voice cuts through the air. "Timothy! Get back here this instant!"
The child freezes, then reluctantly trudges back to his mother's side. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
As the tour group moves on, their voices fade down the corridor. Joey and I slowly emerge from our hiding place.
"That was close," Joey whispers, his eyes still darting toward the door. "But at least now we know when we need to go."
"Nay, my intuition urges me to avoid the year of The Great Gathering." I take a moment to consider the problem but cannae come up with any answers. "How do we get there? And more importantly, how do we fix whatever went wrong without making things worse?"
Joey runs a hand through his hair, a habit I've come to recognize as a sign of his frustration. "I don't suppose you have a time machine hidden away in this castle, do you?"
I can't help but smile despite the gravity of our situation. "No time machine, I'm afraid. But we do have magic."
"Right, of course," Joey mutters, still not entirely comfortable with the concept despite everything he's seen. "So, what? We cast a spell and...poof, we're in whatever time we need to be in?"
"Afraid it's not that simple," I reply, biting my lip as I consider our options. "Temporal magics are incredibly complex and dangerous. One wrong move could unravel the entire fabric of reality."
Joey's eyes widen. "Okay, let's avoid unraveling reality if we can. What do we need to do?"
"Find the book. We must invoke a spell that will guide us to it. That could be dangerous, if the book is protected by the witch or sorcerer who appropriated it."
He raises his brows. "Are you sure about this? Couldn't we potentially screw up the timeline if we layer more magics onto the problem?"
"Dinnae think so."
"You don't think so? That's awfully vague, Rach."
"It's our best chance," I say firmly. "Come, we need to move before someone else walks in."
As we slip out of the long gallery, the modern trappings of Dùndubhan feel surreal. Electric lights hum overhead, replacing the flickering torches I'm accustomed to. The stone floors are now covered with plush carpets that muffle our footsteps.
"This way," I whisper, tugging Joey's sleeve. My dà-shealladh will guide me through the familiar-yet-strange corridors and out of the castle. "We need to find a secluded place where I might cast the spell that will tell us where to go next."