8: My Lady Healer

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id25.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: Surprise Encounter"><U><B>1:  Surprise Encounter</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id26.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="2: A Proscribed Venerable Love"><U><B>2:  A Proscribed Venerable Love</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id27.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Stalked by the Vampire"><U><B>3:  Stalked by the Vampire</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id28.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="4: Flight to the Auld Country"><U><B>4:  Flight to the Auld Country</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id29.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Ally From Nowhere"><U><B>5:  Ally From Nowhere</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id30.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="6: Tales of Pookahs and the Sidhe Peopl"><U><B>6:  Tales of Pookahs and the Sidhe People</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id31.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: The Middle Kingdom"><U><B>7:  The Middle Kingdom</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>8:  My Lady Healer</B><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id33.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="9: Triple Betrayal"><U><B>9:  Triple Betrayal</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id34.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="10: A World Apart"><U><B>10:  A World Apart</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id35.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="11: Flight From Tara"><U><B>11:  Flight From Tara</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id36.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="12: Imbas Forosna"><U><B>12:  Imbas Forosna</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id37.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="13: Wheel of Fortune"><U><B>13:  Wheel of Fortune</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id38.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="14: Wednesday, the Best Day of All"><U><B>14:  Wednesday, the Best Day of All</B></U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>8:  My Lady Healer</B></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div>      “My devoted cousin seems to have taken his leave,” Quentin commented to Julia, dryly.</div> <div> Julia was already looking at the seat Barnabas vacated, wondering where he'd gone.  She noticed other empty places around the room.  “He's not the only one who left, dearheart,” she observed.  She didn't see Caoimhghin anywhere.  Many of the men she'd seen when she was brought to the bruiden were also gone.</div> <div> “Maybe they're having a war council,” he whispered to Julia.  “You know-to plan their strategy against the dreaded Tuatha De Danaan.”</div> <div>      “You're right, I'm sure,” Julia agreed. </div> <div> “Barnabas has status here,” Quentin added in a bitter tone.  Julia looked at him, again wondering what had happened between the two cousins.  “He's the great and mighty Dearg-due.  I guess that's like being the wizard of Oz.”  He subsided again into moody silence, and Julia took his hand in hers.  </div> <div> “What happened between you and Barnabas?” she asked in a soft voice.</div> <div> Quentin shook his head.  “I told you-we agreed to a truce.  He won't bother you anymore.  Not while we're here, anyway.”</div> <div> “You're not telling me everything,” Julia said mildly.  She noticed that he would not look at her, staring straight ahead at the musician beating the bodhran, which was a drum made of goatskin. She let go of his hand and placed her hand gently on his face, trying to turn him toward her.  She felt him resisting her.  “What is it?”</div> <div> “Nothing, Julia.”  He still wouldn't look at her, so she knew he was lying.  She was tempted to pinch his ear but restrained herself; that would be undignified.  As if he sensed what she might be thinking, he sighed and finally looked at her.  “I'm not supposed to turn you against him.”</div> <div> Julia bit back laughter.  She couldn't help but smile though, and was gratified to see him return the smile.  “That's all?” she asked, relieved.  For heaven's sake!  As if she needed Quentin to tell her anything she didn't know about the worst in Barnabas!  She saw something else in Quentin's eyes, though, just before he turned to watch the musicians again.  She was determined to talk to him later.  Something was upsetting him.  </div> <div> The people who remained-mostly women and children-were solicitous and friendly.  “Is there anything you need?”  “Eat, there is plenty-have some more!”  Both Julia and Quentin asked about Barnabas and the other men; their hostesses answered somewhat evasively.  “Soon the shanachie will tell us part of the Tain Bo Cuailnge.” They understood what the words meant-the revered storyteller was going to entertain them with the great epic of Ireland.  Musicians played for them on the ancient bodhrans and flutes.  Niamh's sister Doireann sang a love song acapello.  </div> <div> Julia felt deeply moved by the words:</div> <div> “I thought, O my love, you were so-</div> <div> As the sun or the moon on a fountain,</div> <div> And I thought after that you were snow,</div> <div> The cold snow on top of the mountain.</div> <div> And I thought after that you were more</div> <div> Like a lamp shining to find me,</div> <div> Or the bright star of knowledge before,</div> <div> Or the star of knowledge behind me.”  </div> <div> Julia looked at Quentin and saw that he was watching her, his eyes filled with deep sadness.  When her eyes met his, he quietly raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.  </div> <div> Niamh appeared beside them.  “Cathal, the shanachie, is ready to begin,” she whispered to them.</div> <div> “Where is your husband?” Julia whispered back, but Niamh shook her head and put her finger to her lips, pointing to Cathal.  </div> <div> After listening for a few minutes, Quentin whispered:  “We've heard this-remember that story poor Francis Sweeney was telling us about the bull?”</div> <div> Julia nodded, listening as Cathal summarized the story of the long war between Connacht and Ulster. She pushed her last memory of Francis Sweeney-being strangled by Barnabas-out of her mind and tried to listen. Queen Medb (or Maeve) was married to King Conor of Ulster, and their kingdoms were united until he deserted her.  She eventually married her grandnephew Ailill.   Ailill owned a great white horned bull.  Not willing to be outdone and remembering that there was a magnificent brown bull in Ulster, she led an army off to “persuade” them to “loan” her the brown bull.</div> <div> “This is a story that will be long in the telling,” Cathal explained, as if he was talking directly to Quentin and Julia.  “It all began with a stubborn young girl named Nessa, who lived at Emain Macha.  That is the royal seat of Armagh, and this is where the Tuatha De Danaan live.  She met up with a holy man name of Cathbad.  She asked him, `Would you tell me what this day is good for?' And he answered, `Why, for begetting a king, my lady.'  Nessa then says, `Come along with me then, and we'll see the result of it.'”</div> <div> Quentin snickered, and Julia nudged him.  She was relieved, though, because he must be feeling better.  “Nessa went on to have a baby name of Conor.  There came a time when King Fergus took note of her, and he wanted her.  She was crafty, like all Tuatha de Danaan are and she told him that she would give herself to him if he should let her son be king for a year.  And Fergus agreed. Well, Nessa and Conor went about giving away gifts to all the nobles.  At the end of the year, when Fergus wanted to reclaim his crown, his nobles turned on him and said, `Here now, wait a minute. Let's discuss this.'  And they informed Fergus that they were very satisfied with Conor-not mentioning all the gifts of course-and they wanted him to be king.  But, of course they didn't want to just get rid of Fergus.  They made him arms master to the troops.”</div> <div> “Nice of them,” Quentin commented.  “I'll bet he just loved that!”</div> <div> Cadhal heard and said, “Keep that in mind, lad.  A man who does another man a wrong holds a grudge against him.  You know why?  Because that man is the cause of the wrongdoing.  Mind it well, lad.”</div> <div> Quentin flinched as if he'd been slapped.  Julia was puzzled by the words.  Was the implication that Quentin held a grudge against Barnabas because Quentin had wronged him-or was it the other way around?  Julia wanted to ask Quentin his interpretation of it.  When she looked at Quentin's face, though, she decided it was the wrong time to talk about it.  He looked angry and distraught.  Julia wished she could take him by the hand and leave with him, but she didn't know how much a breach of etiquette that would be here and didn't want to incur the wrath of the Fir Bolg.</div> <div> Julia half-listened to the story of Cuchulain's birth.  She remembered some of this story.  Cuchulain was another mythical hero, sort of an Irish Hercules.  Cuchulain was Conor's nephew, born to Conor's sister Dechtire.  As for his father, well, Dechtire was married to a knight-but he didn't seem to be the father.  On their wedding night, Dechtire was spirited away for nine months by Lugh, the god-like leader of the Tuatha De Danaan.  On the morning Dechtire bore her son, they reappeared-at Newgrange (Cathal called it Bru Na Boinne).  Quentin and Julia both started at the name.  They'd heard a variation of this story from the shanachie Patrick O'Neill.</div> <div> “Cuchulain stood alone against the forces of our Queen Maeve.  Do you know why?  It was because of the curse of Macha.  She was a Fir Bolg somehow displaced into Ulster.  She wandered onto the land of a wealthy Ulsterman.  She walked onto his land and into his house as if she'd been there her whole life long and began to make his dinner-he being a noble named Crunniuc.  She made him a dinner fit for a king, and yet he knew nothing about her.  By and by, he learned her name and a few other things about her before taking her to his bed.</div> <div> “Strange, strange woman was she.  She was strong and could run faster than any man or beat Crunniuc had ever seen.  He knew she wasn't Tuatha De Danaan, suspected she might be Fir Bolg, but he loved her and she became pregnant.  He took her to the fair that year, where King Conor's horses were running.  Crunniuc did a very foolish thing after he'd been drinking a bit.  He tells King Conor, `My wife can run faster than your horses.'”  `Prove it,' says King Conor, `Or I'll have your head lopped off.'  That shut the fool up, but it was too late.  He had to go home and tell his wife she had to race the king's horses.</div> <div> “She pleaded with him. `Look at me,' says she, `great with child.  How can I run then? We must go to King Conor and explain I cannot race now.' But Crunniuc was fearful of losing his head and insisted she must race.  Macha turned to the other men of the place and asked them to hear her, but they would not listen.  They said she must do as Crunniuc said.  And so the poor woman ran the race-and she won.  When the race was finished, she fell over.  She was in labor, and she was dying.  She bore twins first, and then she laid a curse on Ulstermen that they should be weak and sick as women at the moment of their greatest danger.”</div> <div> “We're Irish all right,” Quentin muttered, feeling more and more depressed.  The story reminded him of Jenny for some reason-maybe it was because poor Macha had had twins.  And being cursed-he could see Magda's fingers crooked at him after he'd drunk the potion.  He shut his eyes tightly, trying to close out the images.</div> <div> “That was why, when Queen Maeve marched with her army all the Ulster men lay in their beds, weak and sick.  All except for Cuchulain-who was not a man yet nor was he all human.”  Cathal stopped abruptly, looking at Quentin.  “But that is a story for another evening-our guests have grown weary.  The hour has grown late, and it's time we should be retiring.” </div> <div>  “We have a room prepared for you and your man, my lady,” Niamh said.  “I will take you there-I am sure you both must be tired.”</div> <div>      “Yes, we are,” Julia agreed, glancing at Quentin briefly.  He'd lapsed back into a brooding silence.  </div> <div>      Niamh took them to a different chamber.  It was larger and more sumptuous; their bed was large and covered with soft down quilts.  There was a roaring fire and a small table covered with more refreshments.  In the center of the chamber before the fire was a steaming tub.  “You should be comfortable the night-however, if you need anything, you only need to pull this.”  Again she indicated a velvet cord.</div> <div>      “Thank you, Niamh,” Julia said gratefully.  She was glad not to be separated from Quentin.  She'd half feared that might happen.  After Niamh left, Julia moved past Quentin, who was just standing and staring at the fire.  She exclaimed at the steaming tub.  “Oh, how about a nice warm bath?  We'd both fit-it's like a hot tub!  How do you suppose they got it in here?”</div> <div>      “Probably six of those hairy giants pulled it in on ropes,” Quentin guessed, without animation.  Julia turned to look at him.  He was half-heartedly removing his shirt.  “I could use a bath.  I don't think I got all the blood out of my hair.”</div> <div>      “I'll wash it for you,” Julia offered, expecting him to make some sexual crack or at least leer at her.  When he didn't, she said:  “Quentin, tell me what's wrong.”  He shrugged, continuing to undress.  She tested the water with her hand.  It was comfortably warm.  “Oh, this feels nice,” she told him.  There was another small table near the tub; Julia found a thick substance which she surmised was to be used as shampoo; it had a pleasing fruity scent, a crude bar of soap, and a washcloth.</div> <div>      He climbed into the tub and slowly sat down in the water, letting out a slow, satisfied sigh.  “Aren't you coming in?  There's room.”</div> <div>      “In a minute,” she answered.  “Let me help you with your hair first.”  He suddenly slid under the water and sat back up, shaking his head violently, spraying her.  They both laughed.  This was much better, she thought, pouring the shampoo into her hands.  She rubbed her hands together to build up a lather and then began to work it through his hair.  She gently washed the last of the dried blood away, being careful not to tear at his scalp.  The sound he made reminded her of her orange cat when he purred-a low rumbling, contented sound.</div> <div>      She soaped her hands and began to massage his neck and shoulders.  The muscles were tightly corded; he was very tense.  “Tell me about what else Barnabas said,” she urged.</div> <div>      “Well, he likes the idea of being the Dearg-due here,” Quentin began.  “Apparently they've offered him sacrificial blood from their captives.”</div> <div>      Julia sighed.  “Well, he won't be suffering from blood lust at any rate.”</div> <div>      “No, power lust would be more like it.”  Quentin was silent a moment and then went on, “I probably shouldn't have said that.”</div> <div>      “Dearheart, nothing you could say would turn me away from Barnabas,” Julia assured him.  “I already know all of the awful things he's capable of.  I know the worst acts he's committed.  Are you afraid of him?”</div> <div>      “I don't know.  Maybe.  He's like a stranger to me-I don't even know him.”</div> <div>      Julia was moving in slow circles down his back.  She wondered if she was getting to what was bothering him.  She went back to working on a tight knot in his trapezius muscle, massaging both shoulders, trying to force the tendons to let go and relax.  “What else, dearheart?”</div> <div>      “That girl, Daoirdre-you noticed she looks like Roxanne, right?”</div> <div>      “Mmmhmmm,” Julia agreed.</div> <div>      “Well, apparently she offered to become his own personal-I don't know, not servant-concubine?”  At the sudden unexpected squeezing pressure from Julia's fingers, Quentin yelped.  “Hey, doctor, that hurts!”</div> <div>      “But the knot is gone.”  Julia kissed him gently on the ear.  “I'm sorry.”</div> <div>      “You did that on purpose!”</div> <div>      She couldn't tell if he was kidding or not.  “I didn't mean to hurt you-I'm sorry.  I was just trying to help.  Does it still hurt?”</div> <div>      “Well, no, actually it feels better.”  He sounded sulky.  “So what do you think of that, Julia?  He told he he's had sex with her.  Are you jealous?”</div> <div>      She thought about it.  She was sure she would have been jealous at one time.  What did she feel now?  Tentatively, she answered, “I'm definitely curious.  I didn't think it was possible.  He really had sex with her?”</div> <div>      “That's what he said.  You're not jealous?”</div> <div>      She heard the tone of his voice.  So insecure-just like me, she thought.  She was gently rubbing the back of his neck again.  She couldn't be sure that she wasn't and didn't want to lie so she hedged, “Is that what's bothering you?”</div> <div>      “Julia, when are you getting in with me?” He asked, thereby evading her question.  </div> <div>      She realized it, too.  He was playing the same game.  She had a feeling that her “jealousy” wasn't all that was bothering him, either.  “I will,” she began.</div> <div>      “Listen, doctor, it's your turn.  Would you just take your clothes off and get in?”</div> <div>      “I will, just let me finish-“ she began again.</div> <div>      “Don't say I didn't warn you!”  Suddenly, Quentin reached behind, grabbing her.  He pulled her over his shoulder and into the tub.  Water splashed out on all sides as Julia felt herself pulled under the warm water, fully clothed.  He freed her, and she came up spitting water in startled fury.  She heard him laughing, and she thought she detected some spite there.</div> <div>      She was drenched, and all her clothes were wet too.  “Quentin!” she scolded angrily.</div> <div>      “I warned you!”</div> <div>      Suddenly, she was tempted to laugh, too. First, though, she moved toward him, reaching for his head. She was feeling an inexplicable irritation with him. She pushed him under the water, feeling his body sliding under hers.  She let go so that he could come back up.  His arms went around her, holding her on his lap.  As he moved to kiss her, she splashed water into his face and mouth.  Laughing, he swallowed some of it and began choking.  Although he turned bright red, she watched impassively until he stopped.  “You could've killed me!” he complained in a whining voice.  This time, it was so exaggerated she could tell he was kidding.</div> <div>      “I could've done a lot more than kill you,” she said, reaching down between his legs.  “I still can.”</div> <div>      “Julia!  Are you that mad?”  Quentin's eyes had grown huge.</div> <div>      She couldn't stop herself from laughing anymore, especially now that he had such an alarmed expression on his face.  “No, but Quentin-really!  My clothes!”</div> <div>      “I'm sorry,” he said contritely, trying hard not to laugh.  He couldn't contain himself, though, and finally gave up.  They both laughed together, and any bad feelings they had toward each other drained away.  “What if we wring your clothes out and hang them in front of the fire?”  She looked at him doubtfully.  “Well, I think someone around here would have something to fit you, don't you?”</div> <div> “Oh, that's wonderful, I'll be the Twiggy of Fir Bolg fashion.”  They laughed again.  Quentin helped her take off her wet clothing and then returned the favor by washing her hair and massaging her back as well. He also helped her wring her clothes out and hang them up before the fire.  They curled up together between the heavy quilts.  Julia wondered if Quentin was still bothered by whatever was troubling him before.  She snuggled closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder.</div> <div>      “Julia?  When Barnabas I'chinged back to 1897, it was because he was afraid David was going to die?” Although they were phrased as questions, Julia understood that he was just looking for confirmation.</div> <div>      “That's right-what made you think of that?”</div> <div>      “When you came back that time-before you got pulled back to the future, I just wondered-” He stopped, as if unsure how to go on.</div> <div>      “Yes?” she prompted, puzzled.</div> <div>      “You wanted him to go back with you, but he wouldn't.”</div> <div>      “That's right.”</div> <div>      “Why?”</div> <div>      Julia lifted her head to look at Quentin.  His features were a little hard to make out in just the firelight, but she could see that he was brooding again.  “He wasn't finished-you still needed his help.”</div> <div>      “David did, you mean,” Quentin retorted.</div> <div>      “Well, you were tied together-what is this about, please?”</div> <div>      Quentin sighed and pulled her head back down on his shoulder.  “Nothing,” he lied.  To cover, he said, “You know we have to get out of here tomorrow?”</div> <div>      “I know-we will.”     Julia's assurance didn't make Quentin feel better.  He didn't answer but continued to listen as she went on talking.  She was sure that there would be a lull in this “battle” or that somehow they could convince Niamh to listen and to help them get back.  He allowed his breathing to become slow and rhythmic.  After a few minutes, he heard her ask:  “Quentin?”  He felt her kiss him.  She thought he was asleep.</div> <div>      He looked up at the ceiling, feeling Julia relax and drift off to sleep.  Her slow, rhythmic breathing wasn't a sham.  Eventually, he fell asleep too.  For a long time, though, he lay awake wondering about Barnabas.  He'd trusted him with his life; Barnabas had given him the same trust.  Was it possible, though, that Barnabas had never viewed him with friendship?  Maybe it was all an act-because of David and Maggie and the other family members.   </div> <div> On the other hand, Julia was his friend-he thought.  She'd always been there when he needed someone to talk to.  She had helped him get his memory back and had fought with Barnabas about it, too.  Right now, Julia said she loved him.  He thought he believed her, but then he'd thought Barnabas cared about him-and apparently he was wrong.  Maybe Julia only thought she loved him.  Would that last?  He wondered.  When he did finally fall asleep, he didn't rest.  He had a night filled with very troubling dreams-Daoirdre became Julia, sitting next to Barnabas.  Barnabas had to protect Julia-from the wolf, from Quentin.</div> <div> Julia woke up early the next morning and heard Quentin moaning.  He'd moved away from her in the night.  He was having a bad dream and probably had been having them all night.  “Quentin?”  She shook his shoulder gently.  “Wake up, honey, you're dreaming!”  She shook him again and he opened his eyes, his body starting as if he'd been shocked.</div> <div> “Julia!”   he exclaimed urgently.  “We have to get out of here!”</div> <div> “It was just a dream,” she assured him.</div> <div> “I know, but-there's a full moon tonight.  We have to get out of here!”  He sounded almost frantic, sitting up abruptly.  He swung his legs over on to the floor, looking for his clothes.</div> <div> “We will.  We'll get dressed and we'll go.  Hopefully, my clothes will be dry.”  Julia could feel how anxious he was and got up herself to find her clothes.  Fortunately, they were dry.  She hadn't relished the thought of trying to figure out how to dress Fir Bolg style.</div> <div> When they were ready, Julia pulled the cord and Niamh came for them.  Beaming, she told them that they were just in time for the morning meal.  “After we eat, can you take us back?” Quentin asked abruptly.</div> <div> “Back?”</div> <div> “Yes-to where we came from.”  When Niamh's brows contracted together, he said impatiently:  “To Sithein.”</div> <div> Now she looked a little uneasy.  “If that be the will of my lords, I would be happy to do that.”</div> <div> Quentin looked at Julia, feeling a rush of dismay.  “Who?” Julia asked.</div> <div> “That would be our good King Breandan and the council of lords.”</div> <div> The name meant nothing to Quentin or Julia.  “Is the war over?  When are they going to meet?”</div> <div> “There's a truce for the moment.  You can bring your plea to them at noon court.”  Quentin began pacing.  When he neared the table that held the soap and shampoo, he knocked the things over.  “Oh!”  Niamh exclaimed.</div> <div> “He's upset,” Julia explained.  “We must leave, you see?” </div> <div> “What if they say no?” Quentin demanded.  He was frightened and looked it.</div> <div> “Oh, you don't have to fear that!” Niamh exclaimed.  “It's only a matter of determining the right time and the right path.”</div> <div> “What if they say today is not the right time?” Quentin demanded.  He could feel himself beginning to panic.  Julia moved to his side, as if sensing what he was feeling, took his hand and squeezed it.</div> <div> “I don't think that will happen-there is a right time every day,” Niamh tried to reassure him.  “I think you will feel better after you have eaten.  It is a lovely morning-we are breaking our fast outside.”</div> <div> “Quentin, come on, dearheart,” Julia said softly, reassuringly.  He'd gone an ashen color, but now as his fear was being rapidly replaced with anger and resentment.</div> <div> “I don't like this,” he told her.  “This is some ploy of Barnabas' to keep us here.”  He looked toward Niamh.  “Where is he sleeping?”</div> <div> Niamh looked a little frightened again.  “My lord Dearg-due has risen already.  He is resting, but he is awake.”</div> <div> “Awake?”  It was daylight-- Quentin knew that.  “Well, then, I want to see him.”</div> <div> Niamh was shocked.  “By invitation you see my lord Dearg-due!”</div> <div> “Stop that!” Quentin shouted suddenly.  “He is not `my lord Dearg-due'-he's not any kind of lord at all!  He's my cousin, and he's a vampire!  Don't you understand?  He could hurt you!”</div> <div> At that moment, Caoimhghin stepped into the room.  The large man looked angry himself, and gently put his wife behind him.  “Now I understand why your kinsman was disciplining you when we found you,” he said sharply.  “You will lower your voice-you are a guest here, and you will not disturb anyone else.”</div> <div> Julia put her hand on Quentin's arm to restrain him.  He was outraged and never was one to take orders easily.  She was worried that he would end up antagonizing all the Fir Bolg, especially since it seemed that they respected and or feared Barnabas.  They would have to gain their cooperation and help getting out of this place by being pleasant and compliant, not by being stubborn.  She knew it and knew that he probably knew it, too.  Right now, he seemed more inclined to fight his way out.  He began to speak, and she knew he was going to say “Or what?”  or something equally challenging.  </div> <div> She stepped between them quickly.  “He is young and still has much to learn,” she said appeasingly.  Quentin put his hand on her shoulder, furious. She turned and gave him the most threatening look she could muster and mouthed, “Shut up!” at him.  She turned back to Niamh and said, “Could we have a few more minutes to get ready, please?”  Niamh nodded quickly, turned to Caoimhghin and quietly left with him.  Julia immediately turned to Quentin and tried to stop his explosion of temper.  “Ssh!  Don't-you have to think!  Do you think we can get past all these people if you yell at them?”</div> <div> “Well, what makes you think that kowtowing to them is going to work any better?”  Quentin demanded, outraged.  He didn't shout, though.  “Barnabas is going to be running the whole damn circus by nightfall!”</div> <div> Julia pushed her lower lip out stubbornly.  “Perhaps, but he doesn't run us.  Quentin, I promise you that we will get away before evening.  Even if we have to sneak away all by ourselves.  Now I want you to promise me something-we can't make this people suspicious of us so that they're watching our every move.  Will you control your temple, please?”</div> <div> He sighed heavily.  “I'm just tense, Julia!” he complained.</div> <div> Of course he was, Julia realized sympathetically.  The portrait apparently wasn't working here-at least not completely.  He'd been injured, but he wasn't aging.  Did that mean he was under the curse again or not?  It wasn't worth the risk to stay and find out.  She put her arms around him and held him.  “Don't worry,” she assured him with more confidence than she really felt.  No matter what Barnabas said, she'd find a way to get Niamh to take them back.  Perhaps hypnosis…She realized she didn't have her locket, but she was sure she could find a substitute-she had powers she wasn't aware of, that was obvious.  “Come on, dearheart, let's get something to eat.”</div> <div> The sun was warm outside, with a light breeze blowing.  Julia looked around in wonder at the lush green of the fields and the bright colors of the flowers.  This looked like Ireland, but it was an enhanced, magical kind of place.  The colors were almost too rich, too bright, and too beautiful.  There was no sign of any kind of battle.  They sat on benches at a rough picnic table. </div> <div> Muireann and her man sat across from them with their children.  Muireann introduced them-more strange names: Toirealach, the husband, Tadhg, the son, and twin girls, Triona and Treasa.  I'll never get the hang of this, Julia thought, it's just as well we're going.  “I don't see where the battle was,” she began.</div> <div> “It wasn't here,” Toirealach explained.  “'Twas over the hill yonder.  You wouldn't see much of the ground torn up.  There was much negotiation about the rules an all first.”</div> <div> “Rules?” Quentin repeated, incredulously.  He'd lived through two world wars and had seen the destruction that came from them.  This was a funny way to have a “war”.</div> <div> “Well, the two sides decided since we weren't quite sure if we were evenly matched, we'd have a hand-to-hand go at each other.”</div> <div> “Evenly matched?  Everything has to be evenly matched?”</div> <div> “It's only fair, after all,” Toirealach replied in a tone that brooked no dispute with that logic.  “Y'see they got word that we've the Dearg-due, and that's an unfair advantage.”</div> <div> Quentin and Julia looked at each other, unable to believe what they were hearing.  “Because they don't have one?” Julia asked.</div> <div> “That's right,” Muireann answered.</div> <div> “Why don't we give him ours?” Quentin muttered under his breath.</div> <div> However, Toirealach was shocked.  “What!  And give up our advantage?  Never!  They must get one of their own.”</div> <div> Julia blanched.  Quentin rolled his eyes.  “Now I've heard everything!  And how are they to accomplish that?”</div> <div> Toirealach looked at them as if they were out of their minds.  “Well, they might try to persuade the Dearg-due if we can negotiate an agreement.  Or they might have to go and find one of their own.”</div> <div> Quentin got up abruptly.  “I'm full,” he announced and stalked off.  Julia thought about going after him but decided against it.  She had a feeling they would only get into a quarrel and she had no desire to do that.  </div> <div> After her meal, Julia took her bowl and cup over to the kettle where servants were busily scraping and cleaning.  The servants didn't look like Fir Bolg, and Julia assumed they might have been captured Tuatha De Danaan or perhaps people of another tribe.  She looked for Niamh, intending to persuade her to lead the way back to the real world.</div> <div> Niamh saw her coming and approached, meeting Julia half way. “The Dearg-due would speak to you and your man now.”  Julia was startled.  Before she could say anything, Niamh went on, “Queen Oonagh met with King Breandan, the Dearg-due and other Elders of the council as we ate.”</div> <div> “Will they be there?” Julia wondered.</div> <div> Niamh shook her head, no.  “The Dearg-due requested that he meet with you and your man Quentin alone.”</div> <div> Julia had a sense of foreboding about this.  “Let me go and find Quentin,” she said.</div> <div> “Find him?  You should be able to locate him without having to `find' him, my lady.  He is your man.  Close your eyes and reach for him,” Niamh advised.</div> <div> Julia pursed her lips.  Interesting.  Closing her eyes, she thought of Quentin.  She saw his startling blue eyes first, the unruly dark hair, the sensuous mouth, his long lanky frame-and his hands.  He had fine hands-the hands of a surgeon.  She heard him speak: A surgeon?  I never wanted to be a doctor, Julia; I never could stand the sight of blood!  His voice had a mocking sound to it.  Was it real?  Julia almost lost her concentration.  Focusing again, she thought: Quentin, come back, I need you.</div> <div> She was pleasantly surprised to see him walking back toward them, a puzzled look on his face.  She walked forward to meet him.  “Julia, I heard your voice inside my head,” he said to her when she was close enough to hear.</div> <div> She laughed.  “I heard you, too-you don't like the sight of blood!”</div> <div> He smiled slightly.  “As Mister Spock would say, `Fascinating.'  Well, this has been fun and enlightening, but when can we go home?”</div> <div> “Barnabas wants to see us.”</div> <div> Quentin grimaced.  “The great and powerful Oz, eh?  Think he'll be behind a curtain puffing out smoke and scary images?”</div> <div> Julia made a face too.  “He doesn't need to do, does he?”</div> <div> “No, he seems to be making quite an impression here,” Quentin grumbled.  “All right, let's see what his lordship wants.”</div> <div> Julia put her hand on Quentin's to stop him.  “I don't want to antagonize him,” she warned.  “Remember, I know what he can be like.”</div> <div> Quentin bit back his reply and nodded, allowing Julia to take the lead this time.  He wondered what vampires were like in the daytime.</div> <div> Niamh brought them back to Barnabas' chamber.  He was reclining on the bed, looking very weary.  “Good morning, Barnabas, you look like you need a nap,” Quentin began.  Julia poked him surreptitiously.</div> <div> “Good morning, Quentin, Julia,” Barnabas answered, his eyes hooded.  He sounded tired, too.  “I trust you enjoyed your morning meal.”</div> <div> “It was very pleasant, being out in the sunshine,” Quentin answered and moved before Julia could poke him again.  “This is kind of strange.  I've never seen you in the day time-in this state.”</div> <div> “Yes, it is taking me time to get used to it,” Barnabas agreed.  “I feel differently now than I do in the evening.”</div> <div> “How so?” Julia asked, her physician's curiosity taking over.</div> <div> “I feel weak and listless.”</div> <div> “Sounds like anemia to me,” Quentin put in.  Now both Julia and Barnabas glared at him.</div> <div> “Excuse me a moment,” Julia said to Barnabas.  She took Quentin by the elbow and pulled him away.  Mindful of Barnabas' enhanced sense of hearing, she murmured angrily, “Quentin, you promised!”</div> <div> “All right!”  He sounded just as angry and Julia wished Barnabas hadn't wanted to see them both.</div> <div> She turned back toward Barnabas.  “Niamh said that you wanted to see us, Barnabas.”</div> <div> “Yes.  I have been discussing the situation between the Fir Bolg and the Tuatha De Danaan.  To be more specific, we've been talking about the standoff existing now between the two armies.  Your request to leave came up during the discussion.  I think that would be prudent, under the circumstances.”  Barnabas looked at Quentin coldly.  </div> <div> “You want us to leave, Barnabas?” Julia was wide-eyed with surprise.</div> <div> “What about you?” Quentin asked suspiciously.</div> <div> “I will return in my own time.  Right now I am a most welcome guest here.”  Barnabas smiled warmly, but his eyes were still like two pieces of hardened obsidian.</div> <div> “I'm not sure I believe this,” Quentin declared.  Barnabas' brows drew together in anger, and Julia started to speak.  Quentin, however, spoke over her.  “Why are you being so-cooperative about us leaving?”</div> <div> “The opposing army is already disturbed that I am among the Fir Bolg.  I shudder to think what they might do if they see that there is also a werewolf here.”</div> <div> “I'm impressed by your concern for these people,” Quentin said sarcastically.  He couldn't restrain himself from making the remark. </div> <div> This time Barnabas didn't look angry.  He smiled and then laughed, a chilling sound.  “Are you indeed?  I should think you'd be impressed with my concern for you, Quentin.  I am looking out for you, too, after all.  And Julia.”  He nodded toward her, his eyes boring into hers.</div> <div> “So you're letting us both go?”  Quentin asked, not really believing it.  “You won't try and stop us?”</div> <div> “I have even arranged a guide for you,” Barnabas answered in a magnanimous tone.  “Daiordre!” he called.</div> <div>      As she silently entered the room, the beauty and delicacy of the young woman struck both Quentin and Julia.  She looked a little pale but otherwise had a radiant glow in her eyes.  “My lord?”  Quentin rolled his eyes again.</div> <div>      “Daiordre, would you kindly bring in my cousin's guide back to Sithein?” Barnabas asked, regarding her with affection.</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div>      “Ah, the <I>Gean-canach</I>,” Daiordre murmured, and Barnabas' expression hardened.</div> <div>      Was it because they could understand?  “Excuse me, Barnabas, but `love talker'?” Quentin asked.</div> <div>      “Merely a nick name,” Barnabas answered loftily and gave Daiordre a warning look.  “He is called Ruan.  He will take you and Julia back.”</div> <div>      “Barnabas-I don't know what to say,” Julia began, feeling overwhelmed.  </div> <div>      “You don't have to say anything, my dear,” Barnabas assured her.  There was a hint of sadness in his voice and in his eyes.  “I just want what is best for you.”</div> <div>      “Thanks for that, at least,” Quentin said, somewhat ironically.   He was glad Barnabas seemed to have come to his senses where Julia was concerned.  Awkwardly, he held his hand out to his cousin.  “I hope you don't have any hard feelings.”</div> <div>      Barnabas took his hand after a moment's pause.   He smiled, showing his canine teeth.  “Of course not.  I hope you feel the same way.”</div> <div>      The sharp teeth unnerved him-not just the fangs.  Quentin had an image of a wolf's grin-a werewolf, maybe?  He nodded, unable to answer with his voice.  <I>Liar</I>, he thought to himself.  He didn't believe Barnabas and harbored plenty of his own hard feelings.  This was just for Julia's sake-to get away.</div> <div>      “I'll bring Ruan immediately, my lord,” Daoirdre said, and left the room quietly.  </div> <div>      Julia's eyes followed her out.  She looked at Barnabas and smiled.  “You don't seem to anxious to follow,” she remarked.</div> <div>      “Should I be?”  Barnabas asked in a mildly challenging tone.</div> <div>      Julia looked uncomfortable.  She looked away with a small shrug.  “Perhaps not.  You seem to be revered here.”</div> <div>      “Yes, it's quite different, is it not?  What a change it is-to be respected for what I am instead of being reviled.”  Was he pleased?  It was hard to tell.  His face was mask-like in its pleasant expression.</div> <div>      Daoirdre returned with Ruan, a white haired, rotund man of medium height with twinkling blue eyes, a mane of white hair, a red nose, and a long pipe in his mouth.  “Good day,” he greeted them all pleasantly.  <I>Jeez</I>, Quentin thought, <I>this one looks like Thomas Mitchell playing Gerald O'Hara.  Why do they all look like Pat O'Brien, Barry Fitzgerald, or Thomas Mitchell?</I></div> <div>      “Ah, Ruan!”  Barnabas spoke brightly, as if greeting an old friend.  Julia's eyes narrowed as she watched Barnabas closely.  She felt that he was up to something, but she couldn't quite make out what it was.  He was being too cooperative, perhaps.  He and Ruan clasped hands.  “These are the friends I spoke to you of.  Guide them well, my friend.”</div> <div>      “You can depend on me, my lord, to be sure,” Ruan replied.  He turned toward Quentin and Julia.  “Please to come with me-we'll take a rucksack with us with some food and drink and be on our way.”</div> <div>      “We just ate,” Quentin objected.  “We're not going far?”</div> <div>      “No, no, of course not,” Ruan agreed.  “You see, though, we must wait for the right time to send you through.  It might take hours.”</div> <div>      Quentin looked at Julia, noting her expression.  He was beginning to get a bad feeling about this, too.  He looked at Barnabas, who merely looked back steadily and finally said, “Well, you mustn't waste any more time here, then, don't you agree?”</div> <div>      “Yes,” Julia agreed faintly.  She turned to face Barnabas, feeling very awkward.  She'd been through so much with him, and never expected to come to this point.  It was suddenly hard to speak; her eyes blurred with tears of mixed emotions-regret, sadness, loss, and gratitude.  She held her hand out.  Barnabas took it and kissed it gently, in the European fashion.  Julia felt momentarily breathless.  She'd seen him do that with other women-never with her.</div> <div>      Quentin cleared his throat, and Julia pulled her hand back as if it had been burned.  The back of her hand went to her mouth, and she looked at Barnabas, stricken.  “Goodbye for now, Barnabas,” Quentin said, offering his hand again.</div> <div>      Again Barnabas smiled a wolf-like smile.  “For now,” he repeated softly.  “Take care of yourself, Quentin.”  He let go of Quentin's hand and turned toward Daoirdre.  They were dismissed, turned over to the care and ministrations of Ruan. </div> <div>      Ruan took them to the kitchen area first.  The pantry was huge.  He smiled gently at them.  “Ah, I can see the two of you are in love, are you not?”  Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “As you can see, we have quite a bit of stuff here.  Take what you like, take what you need.  Take your time.”  He settled himself on a stool and reached into his pocket for a tobacco pouch to refill his pipe.</div> <div>      There were other people about, more servants, Julia supposed.  Two of the women who were preparing the next meal brought a rucksack.  Ruan made several suggestions to them, leaning his stool back against the wall and lacing his fingers behind his head.  “Go on then, my lovely lady, pick a sweet or two for yourself,” he suggested.  “Young man, I think you'll find something to whet your appetite in the bin there.”</div> <div>      “Helpful, isn't he?” Quentin muttered, whispering into Julia's ear.  “Do you have as bad a feeling about this as I do?”</div> <div>      “Yes, but I'm not sure why.”</div> <div>      “Maybe you don't really want to leave.”</div> <div>      Julia was astonished.  “Why on earth would you think that?”</div> <div>      “Well,” Quentin began and stopped.</div> <div>      Julia suddenly looked furious.  “I thought we've been through this and through this!  When are you going to stop being so worried about Barnabas?”  He shrugged.  “You're not going to continue this after we're married, are you?”</div> <div>      “It depends on if Barnabas is hanging around I guess,” Quentin answered, feeling unhappy and unsure of himself again.  He hadn't missed the look on Julia's face saying goodbye to Barnabas.  Her exasperation with him now was far from reassuring.  He went into the bin Ruan suggested and found what appeared to be hard candy.  </div> <div>      “Quentin, I really wish you would stop worrying about Barnabas.  If I haven't made it clear enough to you now-” Julia broke off, realizing how she sounded.  She and Quentin looked at each other and then both turned away.  Irritated, Julia went in to the bin Ruan had suggested and found what appeared to be fried bread rolled in sugar.</div> <div>      “Now, now, we mustn't have any of this cutting at each other,” Ruan chided gently.  “You must kiss and make up before we go.”</div> <div>      “Is that why you're called the love talker?” Quentin asked.     Ruan looked startled.  “Barnabas said it was a nick name.”</div> <div>      “Oh, to be sure,” Ruan agreed, recovering himself.  “I like to see young people in love.  You mustn't quarrel with your lady-she loves you.  And you love her, don't you?”</div> <div>      “Yes.”  Quentin put his rucksack down for a moment so that he could put his arms around Julia.  “I'm sorry,” he said, pulling her close.</div> <div>      Her arms circled his neck.  “I am too.  When you have doubts, I have them too.”</div> <div>      “Well, then I'd just better stop then, hadn't I?”  Quentin sounded more like his old self again, charming and kidding.  He kissed her again.  As he did, he could feel himself becoming aroused.   He didn't care.</div> <div>      Julia kissed him back, feeling dizzy and warm herself.  She managed to pull back.  “We'd better go, don't you think?” she asked.  Her words sounded thick and heavy in her ears.  “We have plenty of time for this when we get to town.”</div> <div>      “We have to take care of poor old Frank first,” Quentin replied, pressing his lips to her head.  He knew he should stop.  Yet, once they were back on the outside, there would be things to take care of first…</div> <div>      “That would take long,” Julia assured him persuasively.  “Quentin, please.”</div> <div>      Reluctantly, he let her go.  The two helpers had closed their sacks and gave them each a jug of something to drink.  Maybe Irish whiskey, Quentin hoped.  Slowly Ruan got to his feet.  “Are you ready, then?  Let's go along.  I'll show you the way.”</div> <div>      They left the shelter of the kitchen and walked across the field to the rath.  As they walked, Quentin thought it was like driving through the desert and watching a distant mountain.  It always seemed to stay far away.  He felt that way now-it seemed the longer they walked, the further away the rath appeared to be.  Ruan suggested they stop and refresh themselves.  The sun, which had been steadily climbing, was now overhead.  Quentin and Julia realized they were hungry.  As they sat down to eat, Quentin realized he was feeling dizzy and warm again.  </div> <div>      “I wonder if I'm coming down with something,” Julia remarked suddenly.  As Quentin and Ruan looked at her in surprise, she went on, “I feel very lightheaded.”</div> <div>      “It's because you are hungry.  You'll feel better once you've eaten,” Ruan assured her.  “See?  Isn't the stream pretty here?” They'd stopped to sit on a low stone wall, which ran alongside a bubbling stream.  The sun was reassuringly warm, seeming to penetrate through their skin down to their bones.  The stream looked cool and the sound was soothing.</div> <div>      Both Quentin and Julia thought they could easily stretch out for a nap here.  Ruan nodded at them, as if he could read their thoughts.  “It would be all right,” he said in a soothing tone.  “There's time yet.”</div> <div>      “The rath seems so far away, though,” Quentin observed looking.  “Did we really come so far when we were brought here?”</div> <div>      “That's where you came through, so that's how far it is,” Ruan answered.  That didn't seem to make much sense to Quentin, but he found he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open.  He wondered if there was whiskey in the drink after all.  It didn't taste like liquor, though…He put his arm around Julia, who'd begun to recline against him with a sigh of contentment.  “Sure, and you'll just rest your eyes a wee bit now.  I'll wake you in a short while.”</div> <div>      “We have to get there before dark,” Quentin said sleepily.</div> <div>      “Not to worry, lad.  I won't let you sleep that long.”</div> <bR> <div>      Quentin felt a stabbing pain at the same time he felt someone jostling his shoulder.  “Lad, lad, `tis long past time to get up now!”  He opened his eyes and started violently, the movement waking Julia.  Ruan was shaking him urgently.  “We've all gone to sleep, boy, and I've had the devil of a time waking you!”</div> <div>      Quentin doubled over, feeling the knife-like pain in his middle again.  He cried out.  Julia bent over him, concerned.  “Quentin!” </div> <div>      “Oh, God!  Is the moon rising?” Quentin screamed.  It had gone entirely dark-there was no sun.  He could barely make out the frightened pale features of Ruan and Julia bending over him.</div> <div>      “What has the moon to do with anything--?” Ruan began.</div> <div>      “Get her out of her!” Quentin was frantic with terror now.  It had been nearly a century since he'd felt this pain, but he knew what was happening.  When Ruan didn't move, he kicked at the man in fury.  “Get her out of her, don't you understand me?  You're both in danger!”</div> <div>      “Quentin, no!”  Julia cried, her voice agonized.</div> <div>      “For God's sake, get out of here-please!  It's going to happen any minute!”  Don't hurt them, don't hurt Julia, never hurt Julia, he told himself over and over again even as he felt his conscienceness and awareness of himself draining away.  He saw Julia jump to her feet, wide-eyed; Ruan grabbed her, pulling her back and away with him.  Thank God!  Go, Julia, go to safety!</div> <div>      Through fear-maddened eyes, he became aware of another presence-a great wolfhound.  The wolfhound seemed to grin at him, the eyes flaring redly.  “Well, you wouldn't listen, you young fool!  Now look at the mess you've gotten yourself into!”</div> <div>      “Hunger!” he gritted out through sharpened teeth.</div> <div>      “Ah, yes, not a very intelligible beast, are you then?  Well, let's go then.”</div> <div>      “Must kill!”</div> <div>      “Yes, yes, I know that, me boy.  Come along with me, then, and I'll show you the how of it.  Don't worry-we'll do plenty of hunting before this night is through.  Come on!”  The wolfhound ran through the woods.  The werewolf sprang to his feet and ran after the beast.</div> <div>      “Quentin!” Julia screamed despairingly.  She'd seen the wolfhound appear, heard the two animals growling at each other, and now they were both gone.  She broke into hysterical tears.</div> <div>      “I'm so sorry,” Ruan whispered.  “I'd no idea-“</div> <div>      Julia rounded on him.  “What do you mean-you'd no idea?”</div> <div>      Barnabas emerged from the darkness.  “Julia!  Are you all right!”  Concerned, he moved to take her into his arms, but Julia bolted and ran.  “Julia!”</div> <div> He cried out.</div> <div>      Julia stumbled and fell.  She felt Barnabas' hands on her, helping her to her feet.  She half turned and flailed out at him.  “You did this!  You knew what would happen!”</div> <div>      “Julia, no!  Listen to me-” Barnabas was shaking her now to quiet her.</div> <div>      “No!” she screamed into his shocked, white face.  “I won't listen to you!  Kill me!  You'll have to kill me!”</div> <div>      “Never, Julia!”  His features twisted in rage and pain.  He pushed her toward Ruan.  “Take care of her!  Bring her to shelter!”  He was no longer there.  Julia looked up into the sky and could barely make out the image of a winged creature gliding through the sky.</div> <div>      Julia balled her hands into fists.  There was nothing she could do now-even railing and raging at Ruan would be useless.  She let him lead her back to the dwelling Niamh lived in, ignoring his apologies and protestations that he'd had no idea such a dreadful thing would happen.  Niamh and Daoirdre were in the outer room, both pale and frightened.  Julia looked at them coldly.</div> <div>      Daoirdre swallowed hard.  “We didn't know,” she began.  When Julia refused to answer, some color came back into her cheeks and she challenged, “Niamh told me you are a healer.  Why didn't you prevent this?”</div> <div>      “What?  How?” Daoirdre looked away guiltily-it was as if she'd realized she'd revealed too much.  Julia crossed the room rapidly and stood in front of the young woman.  “Can I cure Quentin?”  When the young woman bit her lip but didn't answer, Julia stamped her foot in rage.  “Tell me, damn you!  You're supposed to be a healer, too!  Healers are supposed to help-not harm!”</div> <div>      Daoirdre shut her eyes and appeared to be praying.  “Forgive me, lord,” she murmured.  She opened her eyes and looked at Julia.  “Yes, you can cure him.”</div> <div>      “How?”</div> <div>      “Where is my lord?”</div> <div>      “I don't know, and I don't care right now.  Tell me!”  Julia insisted.</div> <div>      “I will tell you.  In the morning, when your man returns-if my lord is not here-I will try to help you.”  Daoirdre put her arms around Julia.  “I am sorry for your suffering.  I had no idea that you didn't know-” She broke off.  “Please-you must rest.  If you are to help your man on the morrow, you must have rest.”</div> <div>      “And Quentin?”</div> <div>      “He will not be harmed, this I swear,” Daoirdre answered.  Julia allowed herself to be led back to the chamber in which she'd slept the night before with Quentin.  Now she was all alone, and she wept.</div> <bR> <div>      Quentin woke to the taste of blood in his mouth.  Spitting in an attempt to get rid of the nauseating taste of iron, he realized he was face down in the grass.  The sweet fresh odor mingled with the foul scent of blood.  He remembered what happened and rolled over, sitting up abruptly.  He looked down at himself and groaned.  It had happened again!  He was blood spattered, his clothes in tatters.  Oh God, he thought, his eyes filling with tears, not again!  Who did I kill?  Julia?  He looked around wildly, the tears spilling out of his eyes and down his cheeks.</div> <div>      “What are you blubbering for, ye young fool?”</div> <div>      The voice came from behind him.  Turning suddenly, Quentin was face to face with Jason McGuire, who sat on a log, watching him calmly.  “You!”</div> <div>      “Yes, me, whoja think I was last night, fool?”</div> <div>      “Stop calling me a fool!” Quentin snapped.  He realized he was crying and, embarrassed, wiped his eyes on his sleeve, realizing too late it was covered with still sticky blood.</div> <div>      “Ah, you are an idiot, aren't you then?” McGuire said with contempt.  “Here, lad, dry your tears and blow your nose.”  He extended a clean handkerchief to Quentin, who took it resentfully.  “What are you crying for?” Why should I talk to this guy?  Quentin wondered, still feeling resentment and anger.  McGuire leaned forward.  “Maybe because I can help you-lad.”</div> <div>      “If you can read minds, then why don't you just do it?  I don't really feel inclined to talk to you, McGuire. “</div> <div>      “Well, that's right ungrateful of you, boyo, since it was me that helped you.” McGuire's eyes flared red for a moment.</div> <div>      Quentin suddenly remembered the wolfhound, and McGuire nodded.  “That was you with me last night?  Did we-“</div> <div>      “I took you on a hunt, yes, but not the one you might have gone on if I hadn't come along.   You didn't kill your Julia, lad.”</div> <div>      Quentin's eyes filled with new tears, this time of relief.  He wept, unashamed, not caring if McGuire made fun of him.  McGuire sat quietly, waiting for him to get control of himself again.  “Why did you help me?”</div> <div>      “Why?”  McGuire sounded surprised.  “Because it spoiled Mr. Barnabas Collins' plans, that's why.  I took you around to the cattle instead.  You won't feel hungry for hours, boyo.”</div> <div>      Quentin felt suddenly nauseated, fighting the urge to vomit.  He concentrated on Barnabas.  He was furious.  “Did Barnabas want me to kill Julia?”</div> <div>      He saw McGuire considering.  Then, sighing, McGuire answered:  “I'll not lie to you, lad.  No, that's not what he wanted.  What he did want was for you to come across the Tuatha De Danaan.  They're already aware the Fir Bolg have the Dearg-due and feel unfairly treated as it is.  To be victimized by a Fir Bolg wolf man on top of that would create all manner of complications I'd prefer not to consider.”</div> <div>      “The Tuatha De Danaan usually win these wars, don't they?”</div> <div>      “That they do, but the winning is always tempered by a sense of fair play and justice.  However, if they've lost their own by cheatin, why, then, they might not see fit to be so merciful-do you see?”</div> <div>      Quentin thought he did-all of this was still very confusing to him.  “That love fairy-he was part of it, wasn't he?”</div> <div>      “The <I>Gean-canach?</I>  Love talker, that's who it was.”</div> <div>      “Ruan.”</div> <div>      “Yes, did you know he was Tuatha De Danaan? Ruan tends to stay by himself most of the time.  He's the personification of love-and idleness.  I suppose you remember feeling sleepy, do you?  And sluggish, just a bit?  It's very unlucky to meet up with a <I>gean-canach.</I>”</div> <div>      “If he's a Tuatha De Danaan, what was he doing with the Fir Bolg?”</div> <div>      “Barnabas is playing both ends of the field.  I'm sure he come across Ruan either flying about or as part of the household.  They do take each other as slaves, you know.  All civilizations have done that with their prisoners of war.”</div> <div>      “No wonder he was so willing to let us leave!” Quentin said bitterly.  He struck his knee with his fist and winced.</div> <div>      McGuire snorted.  “That was a dumb thing to do.  D'ye feel any better for it?”  Quentin scowled at him.  McGuire held up a warning finger.  “Mind your manners, lad-remember, I helped you.”</div> <div>      “Yeah, well, thanks, I guess,” Quentin muttered rather ungratefully.  He looked at McGuire suspiciously.  “You'd like a favor in return, I suppose?”</div> <div>      McGuire grinned.  “Possibly, possibly.  I've something in mind for your cousin, Mr. Barnabas Collins.  Perhaps you'd like to hear about it-under the circumstances?  Considering how kindly he's treated you of late?”</div> <div>      Quentin grunted.  He thought about it.  He really was very angry with Barnabas now.  “Okay, I'm listening.”</div> <bR> <div>      Julia woke up to an uncomfortable cramping pain on her lower right side.  Sitting up, she palpated the lower quadrant of her abdomen and found a tender, slightly swollen area.  Not appendicitis, she knew.  She'd had her appendix out years ago.  Possibly an inflamed ovary?  Funny, she thought, that hasn't bothered me in years either.  Suddenly, she realized it was morning and nearly bolted out of bed, ignoring the cramp in her side.</div> <div>      She dressed quickly and pulled the cord.  Silently, Niamh appeared.  “Has Quentin come back?” she asked.  Niamh shook her head, no.  “Barnabas?”  Again, the answer was no.  “Where is Daiordre?”</div> <div>      “Waiting.  I will take you to her.”</div> <div>      Daoirdre was sitting up, quietly waiting for Julia.  She looked calm but frightened.  “My lord was not able to come back before the dawn,” she informed Julia softly, “and your man is on his way here now.  We will have plenty of time to cure him before my lord arrives.  He will be very angry.”</div> <div>      “I'm sure they'll both be very angry,” Julia replied with asperity.  “Where is `your lord'?  Do you know?”</div> <div>      Daoirdre looked surprised.  “Why-he is with Ruan.  I thought you surmised that.”  She frowned, looking puzzled.  “You are not a perceptive healer, are you?”</div> <div>      “Look,” Julia explained tiredly, “I don't know anything about this manner of healing.  In the place I am from-Sithein-I am a doctor, not a healer.  I don't have the skills you seem to have.”</div> <div>      “Oh, but you do,” Daoirdre objected.  “You only need to be guided.  I'll show you.”  She stiffened a little.  “Your man is coming.”</div> <div>      Julia got up.  “Where?”</div> <div>      “The hearth-“  That was as far as Daoirdre got.  Julia was off and running.  She could hear the two sisters following her swiftly.  She knew that she was rushing past Fir Bolg, pushing them out of her way.  She knew she was behaving rudely but didn't care.  She entered the huge chamber with the bruiden at the same time Quentin did.  “Oh, Quentin!”  She barely noted the fact that he was dressed now as a Fir Bolg man, wearing a tunic and trousers. </div> <div>      “Julia!”  Quentin hurried his step, catching her as she nearly leapt into his arms.  He pulled her close to him, burying his face into her hair.  He would've have cried again but realized she'd beat him to it, weeping with relief.  “Are you all right?” he asked.</div> <div>      “Am I?”  Julia managed to gasp incredulously.  “Oh, Quentin, I've been so worried about you!  Where did you get those clothes?”</div> <div>      “My benefactor-Jason McGuire,” Quentin answered softly.  He turned her chin up so that he could look into her eyes.</div> <div>      “Where is he?”</div> <div>      As he bent to kiss her, he whispered:  “He can't come here, Julia.  He's Tuatha De Danaan.  I'll tell you about it later.”  His mouth met hers, and he hoped she wouldn't detect the nasty taste in his mouth he'd tried very hard to wash away.  He wasn't sure he'd been successful, even when Jason gave him mint leaves to chew.  Now, as he felt Julia's mouth open to him he felt real gratitude toward McGuire for the first time.</div> <div>      Daiordre said urgently:  “We need to begin, Julia.”</div> <div>      Reluctantly, Julia pushed Quentin back a little.  She saw his brows rushing together suspiciously.  “She means to help me cure you, dearheart.”</div> <div>      “Oh really?  Did she tell you that Barnabas planned this?”</div> <div>      “Yes, she did.  Listen to me, Quentin,” Julia tugged on his arms to get him to look at her.  He was staring rather balefully at Daoirdre, who flushed but did not look away.  “She told me that I should have been able to stop the transformation myself.”</div> <div>      “You?  How?  We're talking about a curse-“</div> <div>      “We can lift curses,” Daoirdre put in, with a shrug to show that Quentin did not intimidate her.  It was as if this was something healers did every day.</div> <div>      “I healed your arm,” Julia went on.  “Let me try-please.”  They looked into each other's eyes, his full of fear and doubt; hers warm, loving, and encouraging.  “Do you trust me?” she asked softly.</div> <div>      “My God, yes,” he answered fervently.  “All right, Julia, what do we do?”</div> <div>      Julia turned toward Daoirdre.  “We'll go out to the field, where we can have some privacy,” the young woman said decisively.  “You love him-you can cure him.  I'll help you, but I want to do this now-before my lord returns.”</div> <div>      “Good idea,” Quentin agreed.  He had a few words for `my lord' and didn't want to worry about another transformation.</div> <bR> <div>      Daoirdre took them back out the way Quentin had come in.  She turned to him and asked, “Do you remember the way you came?  Back to where you woke up?”  When he nodded, she said, “Take us there, then.  Where you changed back to a man again.”</div> <div>      As Quentin led them back along the path he'd come, he asked, “Why do the colors seem brighter here?”</div> <div>      “I'm sorry, I don't understand,” Daoirdre answered.</div> <div>      “I noticed it, too,” Julia agreed.  “The colors outside are more vivid than in-in Sithein.”</div> <div>      “Oh, I understand now.   I think because we don't have the same machines you do-the flying machines and the coaches on four wheels that roar and move faster than the west wind.  It's the machines, you see, that make the colors seem more drab.”</div> <div>      She's talking about air pollution, Julia realized.  It was true-she was no longer able to see all the stars she'd been able to see as a child.  It also made a difference whether she was in New York City looking up at the sky or at Collinsport.  She realized that Quentin had halted.</div> <div>      “I woke up here,” he said to Daoirdre, indicating a grassy place near the low stone wall.</div> <div>      “Please sit-you can back up to the wall,” Daoirdre said to Julia.  Julia obligingly sat on the soft grass Daoirdre pointed to and leaned against the stone wall.  It was peaceful here-she could hear a stream and birds singing in the trees nearby.  “And you,” Daoirdre said to Quentin, “you can lie with your head on your lady's lap.” Quentin grinned and complied obligingly.  Daoirdre sat close by.  “Close your eyes, Julia, you must concentrate.”</div> <div>      “What should I do?” Quentin asked.</div> <div>      “Relax.”</div> <div>      “No problem,” Quentin said contentedly, feeling Julia stroke his hair gently.  He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation.  He thought he could feel heat rising from between her legs and from her abdomen, too.  His cheek and the back of his head felt warm where he had contact with her.  I don't remember feeling this before, he thought, feeling sleepy now.</div> <div>      “Julia, place your hand on your man's heart,” Daoirdre said now in a soft, soothing voice.</div> <div>      Julia obeyed, sliding her hand under the tunic opening.  She moved gently across Quentin's chest until she'd reached the midline of his chest, between the breastbone.  She rested the heel of her hand there, angling her fingers down so that they crossed his left breast.  Behind the protection of the clavicle, sternum and ribs, Quentin's heart beat steadily-Julia could feel it.  It was the about the size of his fist, which was as it should be.  She thought she could sense his heart contracting as it pumped blood, and she felt awed-she'd never felt the sensation in quite this way before.  Her fingertips tingled and felt warm.</div> <div>      “Who set the curse?” Daoirdre was asking now.</div> <div>      “A gypsy named Magda-my sister-in-law,” Quentin answered, sounding as if he was in a trance.</div> <div>      “Gypsy?” Daoirdre repeated.  “Trooping fairies?”</div> <div>      “Do trooping fairies travel about?” Julia asked.</div> <div>      “Yes, they do, and they can be friendly or sinister.”</div> <div>      Amazing, Julia thought.  “In a manner of speaking then, yes.”</div> <div>      “Oh, dear,” Daoirdre sighed.  “Julia, you must feel within and pull the curse out then.”  Julia frowned, puzzled.  “Try.  Feel for it.” </div> <div>      Julia concentrated on her fingers, imagining that the moved as if searching for a recipe in a file box.  Instead of a file box though, she was slowing moving beneath the layers of the skin on Quentin's chest, finding the muscle and nerves and tendons and bone.  She had images in her mind that must have come from her lover-a drink in a glass moving to his lips; a woman and a man in brightly colored clothes watching in anticipation, laughing, laughing; two crooked fingers twisting at his face.  She still sought further with her own fingers and almost recoiled in horror when she sensed the “wrong” encircling Quentin's heart.</div> <div>      In her mind, Julia saw an engorged tick, its head buried in the center of her lover's heart, the many, many legs extending outward and digging into the cells of his other organs.  This is impossible! She thought, dismayed.  “No, Julia, you can do it,” Daoirdre whispered to her.  “Think.  You must gently disengage the other parts first before removing the head of the beast.  You must be very careful-you must move very slowly.”</div> <div>      “I'm afraid!”  Julia couldn't help herself; the task was overwhelming.</div> <div>      “I'll help you.  Slowly, Julia, slowly,” Daoirdre whispered reassuringly to her.</div> <div>      Millimeter by millimeter, Julia moved, gently tugging and pulling at each leg until she'd pulled it cleanly through the cells.  As each leg pulled free, she felt Quentin jerk and cry out, as if in pain.  The first time it happened, she stopped, frightened, but was urged on by Daoirdre, who reassured her that his reaction was normal.  Having the curse pulled from his body this way would not be without discomfort.  Finally, all the legs were pulled free; the bloated body seemed to float above Quentin's heart.</div> <div>      “Now you must numb him so he doesn't feel you pull the beast free,” Daoirdre advised.  “Warm him with the heat of your love, Julia.”</div> <div>      Julia let the young woman's words guide her.  She concentrated on the feeling she had for Quentin, her friend, her lover, and her protector.  He'd saved her-from Barnabas, from herself, from a lifetime of frustration and loneliness.  She felt alive.  She felt her body surge with sexual heat and desire; the feeling was so intense, she could feel her fingertips vibrating with emotion as she pressed them on his beating heart.</div> <div>      He drew his breath in sharply and then relaxed completely.  His head turned to the side, pressed against her.  He was completely unconscious now, breathing slowly and deeply.  Julia opened her eyes momentarily to look at him, the dark lashes stark against his pale skin and his hair curling with dampness.  I love you, she thought fiercely, and pulled straight and true.  The head of the tick-beast popped out with mewling cries of protest.  She almost panicked.  It was ugly and frightening, with pincers that opened and closed spasmodically.</div> <div>      “Kill it,” Daoirdre commanded, still in her whispering soft voice.</div> <div>      I must, Julia thought.  She took a deep breath and crushed the repulsive creature in her hand, feeling it split like a ripe and rotten tomato.</div> <div>      Quentin screamed and sat bolt upright, clutching his chest.  “Quentin!”  Julia cried out, terrified.  He opened his eyes and twisted around to look at her, the pupils of his eyes huge.  “Quentin!”</div> <div>      “He's all right, my lady healer!” Daoirdre cried loudly into Julia's ear, to calm her.  “He is cured-you have cured him!”</div> <div>      Stunned, Julia looked at Quentin, placing her hands on either side of his face.  Sweat poured from him; he was panting as if he'd run a mile long race.  “Ssh, it's all right, my love,” she soothed, feeling with her fingers.  Searching everywhere, she could only sense healthy tissue and cells.  The corruption of the spell was gone.  “My God!” she exclaimed.</div> <div>      Quentin had begun to laugh.  “Julia, what have you done?”</div> <div>      “Can you feel it?  Do you feel it?”</div> <div>      He turned to her, on his knees.   He grabbed her hands in hers.  “I felt you pull a-a-I don't know, a leech or some kind of a parasite out of me.  Did you, Julia?”  Mutely, she nodded.  “Julia!  Am I-am I-will I-” He'd begun stuttering, afraid to believe that he was cured.</div> <div>      “I think I removed the curse.”  Julia began to laugh to, and then she began to cry.</div> <div>      Quentin threw his arms around her, crying too.  “Do you think so?  Do you really think so?”  They clung to each other.</div> <div>      Julia realized it had become too silent.  The birds weren't singing.  She couldn't hear the stream anymore.  Beside her, she sensed that Daoirdre had gotten to her feet.  She felt foreboding.  Quentin felt it too, because he let go of her and half-turned.</div> <div>      They were surrounded.  Jason McGuire sat on the low wall, watching them with an inexplicably fond expression on his face.  The other people were armed-they appeared to be warriors.  As Quentin began to jump up, McGuire moved swiftly.  He grabbed Quentin's shoulders and pushed him back down to his knees.  “No sudden moves, lad,” he said quietly.  “I don't want you hurt or the lovely lady to get hurt. You know what we're about.”</div> <div>      “Quentin! What is this?” Julia asked, horrified.  She realized that Quentin might have been anticipating this ambush. </div> <div>      “Why, we've come for the lovely lady, of course, for the Princess Daoirdre,” McGuire said easily.</div> <div>      “No!” Julia cried, even as warriors surrounded Daoirdre.  They made no attempt to injure her, and she did not resist.  “Quentin!”</div> <div>      “Julia, it's all right,” Quentin muttered to her, his face flushing guiltily.  “I told you I needed to talk to you about this-I didn't know it would happen like this, I swear!”</div> <div>      “My dear lady, you mustn't be angry with the lad,” Jason urged her in his soft, pleasant voice.  “Princess Daoirdre belongs with us, you see.  You'll explain it to my lady healer, boyo, just the way I told you-won't you?”</div> <div>      Quentin looked at Julia pleadingly, his eyes begging her not to be angry with him.  “They won't hurt her, Julia, I swear to you they won't.  I wouldn't have agreed otherwise.”</div> <div>      “And what about us?”  Julia asked finally.  “Are we to stay here-or go with you?”</div> <div>      “You must stay here of course.”  Jason's smile had become cold and hard.  “You must stay here-someone must explain it to the Dearg-due, after all.”</div> <div>      “To Barnabas?”</div> <div>      “Yes-if the Fir Bolg and the Dearg-due would like the Princess back in Connacht, why-they must come to Ulster and bargain for her.”</div> <div>      Julia's eyes became slits.  She was irritated now, feeling like a pawn.  “This is a trap for Barnabas, isn't it-Jason McGuire?”</div> <div>      McGuire's eyes flared red.  “No more a trap than any Mister Barnabas Collins has set himself.” He jerked his thumb at his company of warriors.  “We go now!” He barked.  He turned back to Quentin.  “Boyo, you and the dear lady stay right where you are until you've counted to a thousand.  Right?”</div> <div>      “All right,” Quentin agreed, his face still red with shame.  He couldn't look at Daoirdre or Julia.  He heard the Tuatha De Danaan leaving, taking Daoirdre with them.  He waited for Julia to begin railing at him.  When she didn't say anything, he looked at her, fearing her wrath and rejection.</div> <div>      She only looked bewildered and hurt.  “I don't understand,” she said finally.  “How could you do this?”</div> <div>      “Julia, don't hate me, please,” he cried.  His grief and shame overwhelmed him, and he began to shake like a leaf blowing in the wind.</div> <div>      Julia reached for him.  Gratefully, he moved into the warmth of her embrace.  Julia pulled his head onto her shoulder, murmuring to him reassuringly.  No, she didn't hate him.  How could she?   She felt fear, though-cold terror rising in her now as she realized the implications of what had happened.  What would Barnabas say?  What would he do?</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="id25.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: Surprise Encounter"><U>1:  Surprise Encounter</U></A>  <A HREF="id26.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="2: A Proscribed Venerable Love"><U>2:  A Proscribed Venerable Love</U></A>  <A HREF="id27.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Stalked by the Vampire"><U>3:  Stalked by the Vampire</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id28.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="4: Flight to the Auld Country"><U>4:  Flight to the Auld Country</U></A>  <A HREF="id29.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Ally From Nowhere"><U>5:  Ally From Nowhere</U></A>  <A HREF="id30.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="6: Tales of Pookahs and the Sidhe Peopl"><U>6:  Tales of Pookahs and the Sidhe People</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id31.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: The Middle Kingdom"><U>7:  The Middle Kingdom</U></A>  <A HREF="id33.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="9: Triple Betrayal"><U>9:  Triple Betrayal</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> </td> </tr></table></body>