Frightened, Julia watched her two men go. They were both hers, she realized-Barnabas because of everything they'd been through and because of the feelings she'd once had for him, and Quentin because she loved him now and because he was the father of her baby. She'd told Barnabas there “might” be a baby but she knew it was true. She wanted to tell Quentin first. He had the right to know. She was afraid; wondering what Barnabas was going to do, hoping he would keep his promise not to hurt Quentin.

Proinsias addressed Caoimhghin. “Urisk sheltered the couple here; he fed them from the bruiden. We did not know that they ran away from you. We want no trouble.”

Proinsias and Urisk both looked greatly relieved. Proinsias said to Julia: “No disrespect intended, my Lady, but we have co-existed peacefully with the Fir Bolg. We didn't want to endanger our relations.”

Julia wondered about that. She'd had a feeling Quentin was lying to her when he said he'd given the news about Daoirdre to Niamh. She still felt guilty. “How is Niamh?” she asked.

Wonderful, Julia thought. I can hardly wait. She heard Quentin cry out and started. When he screamed again moments later, she began to run up the path he and Barnabas had taken. Caoimhghin caught up with her in three steps and easily lifted her off her feet to stop her. “Let me go!” she protested, kicking and fighting to get free. “I have to go to Quentin!”

“No, my lady, this is between my Lord Dearg-due and your man,” Caoimhghin answered stubbornly. He made no move to put Julia down, although she continued to struggle.

“Put me down! All right, I won't interfere, but I don't have to listen to it, either!” Caoimhghin set Julia down on the ground, and she immediately turned in the other direction, wading through the river to enter the cave and take refuge in the chamber she and Quentin had slept in. Tears of fright and anger spilled out of her eyes. Barnabas! She should have known better than to trust him! Although she could no longer hear Quentin, she covered her ears anyway and wept.

Barnabas led Quentin on a path through the trees, climbing steadily upward. At the top of the hill, Barnabas just paused a moment to make sure his cousin was still following and then started down the hill on the other side of the cave and river. There was a clearing at the foot of this hill, and Quentin supposed that was where they were going. Nonetheless, he called out belligerently, “Where the hell are you taking me?”

“Quentin, shut your mouth!” Barnabas snapped. As if he sensed that Quentin was going to argue with him, he added harshly, “You'll need to spare your voice, considering you have a lot of explaining to do.” They'd reached the small clearing. Several of the trees had fallen over, and there was an old campfire in the center. Perhaps this was an outdoor bruiden in pleasant, summer weather.

“I have a lot of explaining to do?” Quentin repeated outraged. “Don't take such a righteous attitude, cousin! You've done some pretty underhanded things these last few days yourself!”

“I mean your show of concern for Julia and me. I wondered what you were up to, Barnabas, and I should have known better than to trust you. But I thought that even if you didn't care about me, you would at least care about Julia!”

“Of course I care about Julia! How dare you!” Barnabas gave Quentin an angry shove, and he tumbled to the ground. As Quentin was about to spring back to his feet, Barnabas yelled menacingly, “Stay down!” Quentin stubbornly tried to get up, and his cousin grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him roughly onto a log. Barnabas sat beside him. “Sit there!” he warned.

“If you cared so much about Julia, why would you let her go off with me and Ruan? You knew Ruan was just going to delay us, didn't you? You knew that I was going to turn into the werewolf-didn't you care that I might have hurt Julia?”

“You might use better judgement in choosing your helpers next time,” Quentin said bitterly. “Although I guess you think that anyone who helps you is pretty useless and pretty stupid.”

This was the first time in a long time Barnabas had really looked at him with anything more than cursory interest, so Quentin decided to lay his cards out and see what happened. He would find out now what Barnabas really thought about him. “I thought we were friends. I thought I was really helping you-back when you came to my time. I was grateful to you for trying to help me. I trusted you.” Barnabas didn't say anything one way or the other, but he was still listening, so Quentin went on. “You've been different ever since you got back from the past, though. I see how you are with Willie, and I saw how you treated Sandor and Magda.” He stopped, unsure how to proceed.

“Yes, but that doesn't mean that we are friends or that you care anything about me, you see? You didn't mind if I became a werewolf and killed some of those Tuatha De Danaan if that meant you could get Julia back. Yet you call me selfish and self-centered. That was a dirty trick.”

What Barnabas said next surprised him. “Yes, it was. I'm sorry, Quentin.” His expression hardened. “I tell you that I do care about you, Quentin, although you may not believe that. You may not want to hear this, but I have been very preoccupied of late, and I can only behave in the way that I know how.” Quentin didn't want to let Barnabas see that his feelings were hurt; he shrugged indifferently. “Well, whether you believe me or not, it was wrong of you to take out your anger toward me on poor Daoirdre.”

Quentin was surprised. He felt as if Barnabas had hit him in the stomach with his fist, driving the air out of him. Finally, tentatively, he asked, “Do you really mean that?”

Barnabas looked away. “I thought until just a few minutes ago that I would still be able to win Julia to me. I realize now that it is impossible. It will never happen, not without injuring the two people I care for most. She cares for me-I can see that she does, but I took her for granted. I missed my opportunity. She loves you now, Quentin. If I did anything more to drive the two of you apart, she would never ever come to me willingly-especially not now.”

Barnabas looked at him briefly and then away again; like Quentin, he did not like to show his feelings. His eyes were filled with grief. “She will tell you. I only hope that you will cherish and care for her as I would have.” Quentin bit back a sarcastic rejoinder about how Barnabas had been treating Julia until he had shown an interest in her. He had a feeling Barnabas was already thinking about it and regretting it.

Quentin shook his head a little in disbelief. Barnabas' words puzzled him, but he was sure that Julia would explain what it meant. He thought about what it must mean to Barnabas to be letting Julia go-if he meant it. “Barnabas, I do cherish her,” he assured his cousin. Perhaps take the low key approach was the way to go here. “And I will care for her. I know what you think-you think I'm going to get tired of her and dump her. I told you I was different. I wish you'd believe me.”

“Well, we shall see.” Barnabas sounded sad at first. Then he glared harshly at Quentin. “If I see or hear otherwise, you will deal with me and you won't like it.”

Barnabas was about to speak and then seemed to think better of it. He smiled unpleasantly at Quentin. “I do not make threats, dear cousin. I am telling you a fact--you will deal with me. There is another unpleasant matter I must attend to with you before I go to retrieve Daoirdre.”

“Yes, yes,” Barnabas answered impatiently. “There are questions I have to ask you.” Quentin rolled his eyes at being interrupted. Barnabas looked annoyed but said, “All right, tell me. Talk!”

Quentin looked at Barnabas resentfully. So superior still, he thought irritably. “You remember Jason McGuire? I tried to tell you about him? And you said-“

“Jason ran with me after I transformed. He kept me from killing any people, Barnabas!” Quentin's tone was rather nasty. He was still angry with Barnabas for trying to set him up.

“I see.” Barnabas tone had become mild, perhaps deceptively so. Quentin looked at him and was slightly mollified to see some regret in his cousin's eyes. “So you felt grateful to him? Well, I am glad that he prevented you from killing anyone-I know how you would've felt.”

Quentin couldn't resist. “Are you really glad? Not just a little bit sorry?” Barnabas didn't answer, but Quentin saw his eyes sadden and felt he could take his answer from that. He probably was glad that Jason had stopped him. “When I woke up and saw that I was covered with blood, Barnabas, I thought-I was afraid-I wondered who'd I killed this time.” Quentin was having difficulty speaking all of a sudden, remember the feelings of shame, guilt, and horror. “I was scared that I'd hurt Julia. I didn't know where she was.”

“So when Jason said he'd stopped me from killing people, I felt grateful. He told me that it was your plan that I kill or hurt someone, and so I got mad. He had an idea for stopping you once and for all.” Quentin slowed down again. He'd been very angry with Barnabas when he talked to Jason, and yet he hadn't even told Jason the whole truth. Really, he'd lied to everybody. “He wanted to lure you to this trap he had in mind, and he asked me about Julia and about Daoirdre.”

“He was going to take Daoirdre back anyway. She's half Tuatha De Danaan, but she also looks like-well, I told him if he took Daoirdre, you'd follow after her.”

“Well, despite the fact that Daoirdre's mother was Tuatha De Danaan, the fact is she has grown up in Connacht with the Fir Bolg. She must come home.” Barnabas paused. “I am fond of her, somewhat.”

Barnabas' eyebrows shot up. “A very beautiful woman who can place a man under her spell. He wastes away to nothing because she drains his life's essence away. Such a being couldn't hurt me.”

“In your present, ah, condition, I suppose not-but how do you know for sure? Besides, Jason's not taking any chances. This leanhaum-sidhe looks enough like Daoirdre that she could be her. When you go to get Daoirdre, they'll do some hard bargaining, but they're going to give her to you. So she can `heal' you, Barnabas.”

“That's not what they're going to tell her. And you told me that you were able to-to have relations with her, so they're going to tell her that's the time to heal you. And when you're sleeping, they'll substitute this leanhaum-sidhe for Daoirdre.”

Barnabas swung toward him. “Well, we have got to get Daoirdre back and out of this mess. They may not mistreat her, but she will pine away for her family. You are going to help me.” Quentin made a face. In an instant, Barnabas was on him, dragging him to his feet. “Yell!” Barnabas roared, backhanding Quentin.

Quentin did yell, feeling as if his head had been knocked off, his body slamming into a tree. The back of his head hit the trunk; he lost his balance and tumbled sideways over the log they'd been sitting on. Son-of-a-bitch-he's-strong, Quentin thought, trying to stay conscious. Already he could feel his eye closing, and his mouth filled with blood from his nose and cut lip.

“Yell again!” Barnabas ordered, and Quentin saw the wolf head's cane swinging toward him. He threw his arms over his head to protect himself and heard the cane whistle harmlessly over his head and hit the tree trunk with a deadly thwack. He had only a moment to wonder whether Barnabas had lost his mind when his cousin kicked him painfully, and he screamed. “That's better,” Barnabas' voice snarled close to his ear. “Yell-you yell your head off! Do as I tell you or I'll strike you instead of the tree!” The next time Barnabas hit the tree, Quentin obediently screamed as if he'd been struck himself. Barnabas hit the tree until he broke the cane and each time, Quentin yelled.

Barnabas bent down to pick up the shattered pieces of the cane. The rage was gone from his face as he turned toward Quentin, who was too shocked to move. “Get up,” Barnabas ordered roughly, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief. “Take this.”

Quentin got back on the log, shakily, too stunned to argue. He pressed the handkerchief to his nose. He could see Barnabas out of one eye. “What was all that about?” he asked finally, watching Barnabas regain control of himself.

“You have no idea what you did to those people by allowing McGuire to take Princess Daoirdre, do you?” Barnabas asked. He turned to Quentin. “You took away their heart. They all love her, all of them. It is more than that, though-Queen Oonah would like Daoirdre to take her place, even though she is not a full-blooded Fir Bolg.”

Barnabas smiled that chilling smile. “My dear cousin, it is an honor to have the special attention of Lord Dearg-due.” There was a tone of bitter irony in his voice. “However, even I have taken her too much for granted. It seems to be a failing of mine.” He was falling into a mood Quentin knew well, feeling guilty and blaming himself.

“No, that's right,” Barnabas agreed, mildly, distracted now. He looked at Quentin with mild amusement. “I should have `beat the shit out of' you as you put it. You were supposed to stand trial before the council for betraying Daiordre. However, as your kinsman, I claimed my right to pass judgement on you. If you'd gone before the council, Quentin, I don't know what they would have done. They're very angry, and you are no longer immortal. Although we are free to travel between worlds, cousin, it is far more dangerous for humans here than for the sidhe in our world. Not all humans leave here alive.”

That was a sobering thought. Quentin understood now-Barnabas had brought him here where no one could see them but where his screams could be heard. Barnabas, of course, wanted to make it look good and sound believable. “Thanks,” he said, feeling grateful that he'd gotten off with a black eye and a bloody nose.

Quentin got up, wincing, realizing that Barnabas had kicked him pretty hard. He groaned, straightening out his leg, and rubbing his hip. Barnabas turned back and looked at him. “You could've broken my leg,” Quentin complained.

“Well, I didn't,” Barnabas answered. “Besides, you want to make it look good for Caoimhghin, you understand? No defiance. Go into the cave with Julia and let her take care of your face. Then we'll go.”

“Yes, my lord,” Quentin said mockingly to his cousin's back. Barnabas turned back again to glare at him, and Quentin said hastily, “I won't do that in front of the others, I swear.” He obligingly limped after Barnabas.

As they came over the hill and started down the other side, he could see Caoimhghin and Urisk fishing cooperatively in the river. He began to exaggerate his limp and managed to put a cowed expression on his face for Barnabas' benefit. Caoimhghin looked up with approval; he almost grinned. “Go and see Julia,” Barnabas ordered roughly. “I would speak to Caoimhghin alone.”

“Yes, my lord,” Quentin answered respectfully this time. He managed to keep a straight face as he carefully made his way across the stones to the cave entrance. Once inside, he laughed to himself and then called: “Julia?” She came running from their guestroom, looking pale and distraught. She ran to him, and he caught her in her arms.

“Nothing! It's all right, Julia!” With obvious disbelief, she put her hands on his face. “Ouch!” he exclaimed as she laid one hand on his split lip and the other on his black eye.

He winked at her lasciviously and said, “Anything for you, Julia, but this may not be the time or the place for that right now.” He pulled his tunic off and dropped his pants.

“Stop that!” Julia still sounded irritated. “I heard you screaming.” She'd found the bruise on his hip, exclaimed over it, and moved behind him to examine his back.

“It was for show, Julia,” he explained. “You can see I'm all right.” He turned to her. Her light touch on his shoulders and buttocks had begun to arouse him. He turned to press his partial erection into her belly teasingly “You see? I'm really all right.”

Julia smiled at last. “It was for show? What show?” Quentin sat on the bed, reaching for his breeches. As much as he'd like to roll around with Julia right now, he had a feeling Barnabas wouldn't appreciate it. Julia sat down beside him. “I heard you-screaming. That was fake?”

“It was a show for Caoimhghin,” Quentin explained, distressed that it had caused Julia upset. “I'm sorry you had to hear that.” He explained what Barnabas had said about the council.

Quentin laughed. “Actually, I was just thinking I wish we had time for you to take care of my other-need.” Julia smiled and put her hand on him, gently stroking him. He drew his breath in sharply. “Julia, he wants us to go somewhere with him-some idea he's got about getting Daoirdre back-oh!”

Julia lifted her head momentarily. “He can wait. If he's beaten you half to death, he can't expect you to go off on a long trek, can he? Two can play at this game-I suggest you moan.” She put her head back down, and Quentin gasped. Julia stopped again, smiling, and said, “You have to make it sound like you're in pain, dearheart.”

“I'll do my best!” Quentin was flushed, and he was hot. The next time he moaned, he tried to sound like he was in agony. He put his hand over his mouth to stifle a snicker. He pulled Julia up and gently pushed her onto the bed.

“But I want this, healer,” he growled, reaching up the dress between her legs. “Just remember,” Julia cautioned, trying to stifle a giggle, “you're in pain.”

“Right, extreme agony,” Quentin agreed, moving into her. “Julia, that hurts!” Julia was trying hard not to laugh as he moaned and groaned with each thrust. Excited now, she wrapped her legs around Quentin's hips to draw him deeper inside. One leg pressed the bruise Barnabas left on Quentin's hip and this time he did yelp with pain even as he climaxed. Julia was upset, but Quentin was already trying to suppress more laughing. He pressed his face into the space between her shoulder and her neck.

Julia covered her mouth with her hands. After she was sure she could control herself, she called back to Barnabas, “Well, we're just finishing now but I haven't quite healed all of his injuries. He can walk, though, if that's what you need.”

“I have a strange feeling of déjà vu,” Julia declared. They looked at each other and burst out laughing, unable to help themselves. When they'd composed themselves, they went into the outer chamber. It was empty. Barnabas must have discreetly withdrawn. As the exited the cave, they could see him on the far bank, lit up only by the torch Caoimhghin patiently held aloft. He was pacing impatiently. Urisk and the gnomes sat on the bank in a silent line.

As Julia and Quentin approached, Urisk, Proinsias and the other gnomes scrambled to their feet. Urisk bowed to them and held out a sack with provisions. “Thank you,” Julia said. Proinsias came forth with two leather belts with sheaths attached. One was for Julia, and one was for Quentin. Each held a short sword.

I don't think I'll be coming back, though, Quentin thought. Well, it didn't matter. The huge sword would be too heavy to carry anyway. He helped Julia put her sword belt on, while she carefully adjusted his. “Let's go,” Barnabas said finally, impatiently. He led the way, not needing any light to see in the dark.

“Where are we going? What's the plan?” Quentin asked. Caoimhghin had handed him the torch, indicating that he and Julia were to walk between Barnabas and himself. They weren't taking any chances.

Quentin stopped short, nearly causing a pile up behind him. Barnabas turned and looked at him. In the torchlight, Barnabas' eyes gleamed red. Quentin shivered. He felt Julia grab his shoulder.

Quentin and Julia had just enough time to look at each other with dismay. Caoimhghin grunted impatiently, and they began to move again, following Barnabas into the darkness.

After walking for an hour, Quentin began to wish that he'd allowed Julia to get rid of the bruise on his hip. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable and irritable; the belt with the short sword on it was pressing on the bruise, too, and he was getting tired of holding the torch up. Just as he was about to complain and demand a break, they reached the rath. It's about damn time, he thought. Now what?” he asked as they entered the cave.

Julia had found a ledge and sat down, going into the bag to bring out the provisions. She was thirsty herself and could tell that Quentin must be too; he sounded cranky and tired.

Before Barnabas could speak, Caoimhghin shoved him roughly. “You are disrespectful!” Quentin shoved back; he'd had enough. Julia stood up immediately as Caoimhghin shoved Quentin hard enough to make him stumble and fall.

“He is still disrespectful!” Caoimhghin exclaimed angrily, his hands curling into fists as Quentin scrambled back to his feet. Julia was at his side, but he gently pushed her aside. He was ready to fight; he didn't care how big Caoimhghin was.

“I will deal with him!” Barnabas turned on Quentin. “Sit down!” he barked. Quentin hesitated and then reason prevailed. He sat down, glowering resentfully at Caoimhghin. Barnabas looked aggravated. “I suppose you are hungry and tired. I suggest you three eat and rest. There are too many important things that need to be done-we don't need to waste time fighting.”

In your wildest dreams, Quentin thought, reaching for a flask. Julia nudged him slightly, and he looked up to see Barnabas staring at him. “I'm sorry,” he said grudgingly. “I meant no disrespect.” Caoimhghin seemed to visibly relax and became friendly, reaching for his own flask and something to eat. Julia talked with him pleasantly; Quentin continued to sulk although he ate and listened to the talk. He removed the belt with the short sword. If they had a long wait ahead of them, he didn't want to wear it. Besides, he wouldn't need it in Sithein.

“I am not positive, Julia. You won't be coming out anywhere, however. You are staying here with Caoimhghin. Once Quentin and I are through, Caoimhghin will bring you back to the village,” Barnabas replied.

“Well, I can't leave you here-you are totally uncooperative, unpredictable, and impulsive!” Barnabas argued, exasperated. It was plain he would have preferred to take Julia with him.

Quentin felt Barnabas' hand go around his throat, squeezing it. His cousin yanked him backward. Quentin thought that Barnabas was going to toss him against the wall and throttle him. Instead, he heard a roaring sound in his ears and felt as if he was in the middle of a hurricane. “No!” he shouted, but it was too late. It was dark, and he didn't have the torch. He could hear running water and could feel the cool breeze on his face. They were no longer in the rath.

Julia! Quentin thought, dismayed. He felt himself lose control, throwing himself on top of Barnabas and trying to knock him over. He heard himself cursing and raving at his cousin, who was startled but otherwise unaffected by Quentin's attempts to knock him down. Finally, Barnabas lost patience and shook Quentin by the shoulders. “Calm down! You're not doing anyone any good becoming hysterical like that! Julia will be fine- Caoimhghin is a good man, and he will make sure she is safe. You will see her again as soon as we've finished here and gone back.”

Quentin, though, was in no mood to listen, continuing to berate Barnabas for leaving Julia behind. Barnabas sighed, let go of his cousin, and sat down on a log, waiting for the tantrum to play itself out. Barnabas' attitude only fueled Quentin's anger further. He tried to get around Barnabas to go back into the rath, cursing the day he'd ever met him, cursing the fact that he hadn't staked Barnabas himself back in 1897, and promising to do the job once the morning came. With that, Barnabas stood up and slapped Quentin's face sharply. “Are you quite finished?” he snarled. “The longer you rant and rave and carry on, the further you delay our return. Now, stop it!”

The blow knocked some sense back into Quentin. Still furious, he realized he didn't know how to get back to Brugh. Barnabas seemed to know how to do it-instinctively, maybe-and right now he was the only way back to Julia. He fingered his cheek, realizing he could see out both eyes. His hand moved to his lip, which was no longer swollen. The portrait must be working again. Finally he felt as though he could talk to Barnabas civilly. “All right. So what now?”

“Wait here. I will find out where we are and return for you.” Before Quentin could say anything, his cousin dematerialized before his eyes. He heard wings fluttering and saw the black shape winging away. It took all of thirty seconds for Quentin to decide to go back into the rath and see if he could find his way back to Brugh. Perhaps he could get through before Barnabas got back.

Julia gasped as Barnabas and Quentin disappeared through the wall of the rath. Now she was alone again, except for Caoimhghin. She covered her eyes with her hands and cried. “Don't weep, my lady,” Caoimhghin said awkwardly, distressed. “They will be fine-you'll see. They will be back very soon.” Clumsily, he patted her shoulder to comfort her. “Shall I get you some water, my lady?”

“Thank you.” Julia managed to answer him tearfully. She sat back down, feeling her knees become weak. She was tired of this strange place and had been looking forward to going back across-even if it was just for a short time. She felt odd sensations from within, cells dividing over and over and over. She placed one hand over her abdomen trying to remember how many times during the first few days after the embryo implanted itself that the cells divided.

“When you've rested well, my lady, well go. I'll take you to the dwelling of Muireen and Toirealach.” Caoimhghin said gently. He hesitated and then explained, “You are welcome at our own dwelling, of course, but you must understand that Niamh and I do not feel kindly toward-Quentin, your man.”

Julia felt vague resentment that Quentin was being blamed solely for Daoirdre's kidnapping, but she didn't say anything. She wasn't sure she could face Niamh without feeling guilty and supposed it would be better this way. Muireen, she remembered, had three children-a boy and twin girls. Twins! Julia felt a sudden uneasy presentiment. She tried to remember how many little “arrows” she'd felt. She smiled up at Caoimhghin. “That would be fine,” she managed to say to him. “I'm ready to go.”

Julia wondered if the door between the Middle Kingdom and Sithein would open again in the meantime. She decided she would try to stay awake and see. Caoimhghin removed his cloak and spread it out on the floor for Julia. “But what about you?” she protested.

Julia settled herself onto Caoimghin's cloak. It was nothing like the soft layered bed in Urisk's cave. Little pebbles pressed into her spine in a most annoying way, and her sensitivity irritated her. She was sure that she wouldn't have a problem staying awake. Caoimhghin didn't have any trouble falling asleep.

Julia listened to his rhythmic snoring for a while, watching the far wall. She worried though, because it was so dark in here now, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to see the shimmering. Moving carefully, she lifted the cloak and tiptoed to the wall where Barnabas and Quentin disappeared. She felt along the wall; everything was solid. Sighing softly, she spread the cloak on the floor of the cave near the wall and lay down again. Perhaps the next time the door opened, she'd roll through. She tried to keep her eyes open but her eyelids seemed to be growing heavier and heavier. Soon her soft breathing joined in with Caoimhghin's snoring rumbles.

Sometime in the night, she thought she felt someone touch her hair. Startled, she began to sit up and realized she could hear voices all around her: Quentin, Barnabas, and Caoimhghin. She thought she felt herself being pulled one way-impossibly, through the wall! “NO!” Barnabas shouted. Caoimhghin grabbed her and lifted her into his arms, tearing her from someone's grasp. “Julia!” That sounded like Quentin.

“I'm sorry, my Lady Healer, but we must obey the wishes of Lord Dearg-due. Have no fear-you will see your man before long,” Caoimhghin soothed her, even as she continued to kick and struggle in vain. He was carrying her out of the rath now, and she felt her spirits sinking. “I think perhaps it would be better if we tarried the rest of the night outside,” he said.

“I have no desire to tarry with you anywhere!” Julia raged, feeling herself become as unreasonably angry as Quentin had been with Barnabas earlier. Her sleep had been interrupted, she'd been torn from her lover yet again, and she was still in this strange place she no longer wanted to be. Once they'd gotten clear of the rath, Caoimhghin set her down.

“I understand your anger, my Lady,” he said humbly, “and I beg your pardon. Please-it's dark out here. I would not like to see you hurt. Please don't run from me. I can build a fire out here, and we can spend the rest of the night in peace, taking what rest we may.”

Julia felt her anger drain away somewhat. It really wasn't this man's fault, and he'd been nothing but kind to her. “All right,” she agreed grudgingly. She waited while Caoimhghin went back into the rath and returned with a torch. After a moment, Julia heard the sound of a match striking and saw the flare of the tip as Caoimhghin lit the torch. Julia could see his face, which looked weary and haggard. “Where did you get the match?” she asked curiously.

Caoimhghin laughed. “Do we seem so backward to you, my Lady? We have had matches for aeons. It is one of the more practical things we picked up from the people of Sithein.”

“Of course, I wasn't thinking.” Julia felt embarrassed. This place was so different! “But there are other practical things you have not picked up from Sithein. Why not electricity?”

Caoimhghin shrugged. “I have not been to your world, but I have talked to folk who have been there. We like our lives the way it is. I think electricity would make our lives different.” That's for sure, Julia thought. As if reading her thoughts, he went on: “This electricity you speak of means that we would have to put up poles with wires all over Brugh and spoil the beauty of the land. And what need would we have of this electricity other than to see at night? I have heard that electricity brings a box with moving pictures. The Milesians sit in front of this box and stare at it. To what purpose?”

“For entertainment,” Julia answered, trying to explain the use of television. As she answered, she suddenly thought of the shanachie and the musicians at the bruiden. She stopped abruptly.

“We have all the entertainment we need. We tell stories around the bruiden, and we have music and dancing. When it grows too dark to see by even the dying firelight, then we go to sleep. I think we perhaps we have more entertaining things to do in the dark than if the electric light was on all evening,” Caoimhghin commented dryly. “This seems a good place to stop, do you not think so?”

They'd come to a small clearing. Julia couldn't make out where they were at all; she'd been following Caoimhghin the whole time. She knew they were still in wooded area; she could hear the sound of the nearby river and guessed they must be nearer to Urisk's cave. She doubted they'd be welcome there. “I guess so,” she answered, resigned.

“My Lady Healer, please sit here, and I will gather brush for a fire to keep us warm and safe.” Caoimhghin had her sit down on a fallen tree. “I will return shortly.”

Julia sat in the dark, waiting. Caoimhghin and some of the others said that travelling between the worlds was easy. She hoped they weren't exaggerating. She never felt more alone-not even when she'd been all by herself in Collinwood and Barnabas had been terrorizing her, trying to make her feel as though she was insane. Even still, she'd known who she was and where she was. She had no touchstone here at all. She believed that Barnabas and Quentin would come back-she just hoped she wouldn't have to wait too long. She realized she'd been waiting quite a while and that Caoimhghin had not yet returned.

She felt a jolt of terror; breathless, she sank back down onto the tree trunk as she felt her knees weaken and give out. She could see two red eyes gleaming at her not ten feet away, and her hands flew to her mouth, frightened. “Who are you?” she finally managed. “Where is Caoimhghin?” A flashlight suddenly shone in her face, and she threw her hands up to cover her eyes against the sudden brightness.

“Not to worry about faithful Caoimhghin, dear lady,” the voice said, approaching. He held the flashlight in her eyes, blinding her, so that she couldn't see who he was. She had a pretty good idea, though-his voice was still familiar. Now she was truly frightened. Damn Barnabas! Why had he left her here alone to face Jason McGuire? Of course, he couldn't have known, but still!

“Ah, and I thought it was modern conveniences you were missing. I'm sorry.” The light went away as he pointed it toward the ground. Julia still saw dancing spots in front of her eyes. “Unlike our friend Caoimhghin, I believe this is another necessity here. What if it rains and your matches become damp?”

“Oh, but I beg to disagree, Lady Healer. It is your friend Barnabas who is ultimately responsible for all your misery. After all, did he not pursue you to this place? Think on it, Julia, dear. Barnabas has been nothing but trouble with a capital T since the days you set eyes on him, isn't that so, love?”

“Is that so, now? And what was it you were thinking not just a minute ago? Wasn't there a time he was trying to drive you mad? Seems I remember him stalking you and making you imagine things.”

“No? Well, where is Quentin then?” Jason shifted, as if he was looking around. “I'd like to have a chat with the scamp. He gave me some false information.” Jason turned back toward her. He'd lifted the flashlight so that Julia could make out his features. He was smiling, but it was a nasty, cunning smile which did not go to his eyes. His eyes were cold and angry. Julia shook her head stubbornly. “Ah, not talking are you?” He chuckled as if amused. “Well, the night air has definitely given me a chill. What say you accompany me to a nice warm shelter for the rest of the night?”

Jason sighed. “He's laid out under yonder hawthorn tree if you must know. Don't worry-he'll be fine. He'll just have a splitting headache in the morning. Julia, I have friends with me. I know you're with child. Don't force me to drag you along. It would not be good for you.” Julia put her hands on her abdomen protectively. “I have no intention of hurting you or your children. I just would like you to come along without unnecessary unpleasantness. You have no choice, you see?”

Jason sighed. “Remind me to give my young friend a rap in the mouth for not knowing when to keep it shut. That was supposed to be our little secret. I had hoped that one rascal could trust another.”

Julia was about to protest that Quentin was not a rascal either but thought better of it. Jason put his hand on her elbow to guide her, propelling her along the path. He used the flashlight to guide their way. He sighed and said: “He sighed. “Ah, well, we might have to move you both to Ulster then, after all.”

Her fear must have shown in her voice because Jason answered in a somewhat comforting tone: “Well, it's not as it is in Northern Ireland, now. There are no slums here, no bombs, and no tanks. Ulster here is the way it was always meant to be-beautiful, like all of Ireland.”

No bombs and no tanks, Julia thought, but there was still warfare and another sort of terrorism here. She didn't doubt that Barnabas and Quentin would come back, but how would they find her? Considering whose company she was in, she wasn't sure she wanted them to find her. Perhaps I can think of a way to get free, she thought. She focused on that thought as she walked off with Jason McGuire, to more places unknown to her.

It was dark inside the rath, and Quentin felt his way along the stone wall. He had an uneasy feeling about being back inside the rath. It was like walking through a cemetery or, worse, invading someone's mausoleum. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. Why am I thinking this way? He wondered, desperate for a brandy. Still, he couldn't just leave Julia behind. Suddenly, he felt his arm pass through the rock wall-this must be the portal! His fingers rested lightly on someone's hair. Julia?

His fingers moved a little, finding the cheekbone and then the nose. “Julia!” he called. He started to crawl through but then thought better of it. He didn't want any confrontations with Caoimhghin. He was partially through the opening, though, and could make out Julia's form. He'd pull her through-just like Niamh had pulled her through before. He got his hands on his shoulders. “Julia!” he called again, trying to rouse her.

“Let go of me, you son of a bitch!” Quentin yelled, furious, as he felt himself being pulled back. Worse, he lost his hold on Julia, feeling two hands remove his own from her arms. She was pulled away from him. He could hear her crying out. He was back inside the rath all the way, and Barnabas had a firm hold on him. He struggled as Barnabas dragged him out of the rath.

Barnabas snapped angrily: “Stop fighting me! It is futile, and you know it! Be still!” Quentin realized the truth of this and stopped fighting to get away. The portal had probably closed again. He'd been so close! “Why must you always make things so difficult?”

“You're the one who said that I'm always totally uncooperative, unpredictable, and impulsive! Yet, you go off and leave me alone here at the rath. What the hell did you expect?” Quentin retorted, burning with angry resentment.

“This place is called Usineach-the navel of Ireland.” Barnabas began. Quentin burst out laughing. He couldn't help himself, he was so angry but to hear a location referred to as a navel triggered his odd reaction. Barnabas smiled a little in return. “In this place, the four provinces of Ireland meet. I suppose that is why it is referred to as the navel.”

Barnabas sighed, becoming impatient again. “You underestimate me too much, Quentin. We are going into town and we're going to borrow a vehicle to take us back to Newgrange.”

Quentin wondered who they were going to borrow a vehicle from but thought he could guess. He was sure Barnabas was going to have him hot-wire a villager's car, and he was right. “Tell me, this is the real reason you kidnapped me and dragged me along, isn't it? Julia doesn't know how to do this,” he said as he fiddled under the dash of the car to splice two wires together. He hoped the owner of the car was sound asleep.

“Well, there are some advantages to having you along rather than Julia,” Barnabas agreed. He was in a much better mood, Quentin thought. He continued to feel resentful and angry, wondering how he might be able to get even with Barnabas for this. “Very good, cousin!” Barnabas exclaimed in delight as the engine started.

Quentin considered driving off without him but realized quickly that a bat would overtake him eventually. “Get in, let's go!” He wanted to get out of here before the owner of the car heard the engine running. This village was way out in the middle of nowhere, and there wasn't any traffic to cover up the sound of the motor running. Barnabas got in on the passenger side, and Quentin roared off, starting out on the wrong side of the road. At least there wasn't anyone coming the other way, he thought, moving over and pointing the car toward Newgrange.

There was a group of fine looking specimens of Tuatha De Danaan waiting in a clearing for Jason and Julia. Julia gasped when she saw them, not because of the beauty of the young men and women warriors but because of the beasts they were tending: snowy white unicorns! “Fine animals, are they not?” Jason asked her. “You'll be arriving at Tara in style.”

“On one of them?” Julia was dismayed. It had been years since she'd ridden and then it had been a horse with a bridle and saddle. The unicorns had long, flowing manes and silvery hoofs. Their horns were of a metallic silvery hue that was almost blue. Their white hair was long, like Clydesdales. There was not a saddle or a bridle in sight.

“It's nothing to trouble yourself about my Lady,” a young female warrior, the one closest to Julia, spoke up. She was gently stroking two unicorns, one with each hand. Both animals nuzzled her affectionately. “They know that you are kind, and they will be kind to you.”

`No, it is a privilege, Lady.' Julia started a little, looking into the violet eyes of the unicorn nearest her. `Don't be afraid-I promise to give you a very pleasant ride.'

Jason laughed. “Sorcha.” He addressed the young woman, who stepped forward, bringing the unicorns with her. “My lady, I believe your steed has spoken to you?”

“Your Quentin would not, for one. And the Fir Bolg.” Jason had taken Julia's elbow gently, leading her to the waiting beast. “I'll give you a hand up, my Lady.”

“Thank you.” Hesitantly, Julia put her fingers into the unicorn's soft mane. It felt like corn silk. Puzzled, Julia turned toward Jason, who was mounting the other unicorn. Sorcha moved off toward another of the animals, and the other warriors climbed onto their mounts. “Why is it I can hear the unicorns but Quentin cannot and the Fir Bolg cannot?”

Julia thought, remembering her grandmother with affection. Yes, she'd always been ready with stories and songs. Julia remembered her wicker rocker in the corner of her old apartment. Her grandmother would rock for hours with Julia on her lap, telling her stories about the brave and wonderful Cu Chulainn, about St. Patrick, faeries and leprechauns, and many other mystical creatures. There were songs, too-her grandmother could play the accordion. She called Julia “my wee princess” and claimed that their family was descended from royal blood. “Yes, but I didn't know how much was truth and how much was fiction.” Part of her purpose in researching the O'Neill family was to find out if she really was descended from royalty-perhaps Quentin hadn't been so far from the truth after all.

“As you know, during the fire feasts, folk are able to travel back and forth with greater ease,” Jason explained. “What if once upon a time, a beautiful young man, of Tuatha De Danaan and Fir Bolg blood, made that trip between the worlds and came upon a young lady of Sithein? They were immediately attracted to each other and for a magical time, they were able to be together and love each other. What do you think?”

“I think I've heard this story many times,” Julia answered. “Tell me-which one was the O'Neill?” Jason gawked at her with surprise, and Julia couldn't help but laugh. They were moving along the forest path in a long line, but Julia and Jason managed to ride almost side by side. “I'm assuming one was royal and one was a peasant?”

Jason scoffed. “No, it's not Cinderella you're thinking of-more like Snow White, if you're to think of fairy tales. One was an O'Neill and the other was a Ui Neill.” When Julia frowned, puzzled, Jason explained: “They were of the same tribe, y'see? Only one had gone to the Middle Kingdom and the other lived above, in Sithein. Distant cousins, y'might say, but both royal.”

“Well, as I've told you, one cannot stay for long where he or she does not belong. And so they went on for a while, sometimes here, and sometimes there. There were children-several of them. They had the Sight or they were Healers-or they were musicians or shanachies. Your ancestors, Julia. And there came a time when the lass grew old, although the young man did not. It grieved him to leave her, but leave her he did. That's the way of Sithein, y'see-to grow old and die.”

Julia felt stunned. Realizing that she needed time to absorb this new information about herself, Jason made a clucking noise to his unicorn which translated in Julia's mind as: “Come along, then, she needs to think a while.” It was not just the revelation that she actually had faery blood that made Julia's blood run cold. There was also the similarity between the young man who didn't age and the woman who did-it was like Quentin and herself. She thought about what Jason had said too-that one couldn't stay for long where he or she does not belong. Although this world was still strange to her, oddly enough, she fit here-she could heal, she could talk to the animals…could she stay here if she wanted? And what about the baby conceived here?

Quentin had gone into an autopilot mode. He was used to being up at all hours of the night so he wasn't particularly tired, but he was very preoccupied about where they were going and what was happening to Julia. He realized Barnabas was saying something to him and realized when his cousin pulled on the wheel that he was supposed to stop. “What?” he snapped irritably.

“It's dark. There aren't any streetlights, you know. How the hell am I supposed to know where we are?” Quentin peered around and realized that they were alongside someone's home. He realized with a sudden sickening certainty that it was the Sweeney home. “Geez,” he muttered. “Is she here-Maeve?”

Quentin got out and slammed the door, shivering. He didn't like this at all. It was still quite dark and while he was sure the portrait would protect him, he didn't want to risk finding out if it did or not. Barnabas was headed for the house. Quentin wondered how he could just barge in after killing the couple off the way he'd done. Still, it was safer to be with Barnabas than out here so he quickly followed his cousin inside. “Willie?” Barnabas was calling. “Willie!”

“She's in a really bad mood tonight, Barnabas,” Willie answered fretfully. Quentin didn't have to guess who “she” might be and felt a little sorry for Willie, left to guard a disgruntled vampire. He didn't imagine that Maeve was too pleased at her fate.

“Can we get a light on?” Quentin asked irritably. He wasn't pleased at the abrupt way Barnabas was addressing him. Willie obligingly found the light and switched it on. Ah, electricity! Quentin thought. It was so easy to take things-and people-for granted. “What is there to eat?” he demanded now.

Willie gave Quentin a look which plainly said: Barnabas might talk to me like that, but not you. “Go see for yourself,” he answered. He went into the pantry and pulled out two warm bottles of stout. He put them on the table and sat down. Quentin sat down across from him, realizing he had no appetite right now. He wondered what was going on between Barnabas and Maeve. Willie had taken the tops off the bottles and extended one to Quentin, who accepted it. “Still can't used to drinking this shit warm,” Willie complained.

Quentin smiled mirthlessly. He knew what Willie meant. Warm beer was not his top choice for a refreshing drink, but when there was nothing else around…He tipped his bottle back and swallowed about half the stout before setting it back down on the table. “Have you been with her since, well, you know?”

Willie looked at him as if he was out of his mind. “Me? Nothin! Are you crazy? What was I gonna tell them? I didn't come here until after she got up anyhow. It's been real hell keeping her in that room, too. I been lying to her-telling her that she had to stay there or Frank wouldn't know where to find her. I keep bringing her what she needs-she don't know nothin about bein a vampire, Quentin.”

It really wasn't funny, but Quentin had a hard time not laughing. He wondered what, if anything, Willie had told her about her new life. He couldn't resist. “So what did you tell her?”

Willie looked insulted. “Nothing! What she don't know won't hurt nobody else! This way she stays in the room-but I put the garlic up anyhow in case. She don't care for it much-she don't understand where her Frank is and she keeps callin for him. Night and day. During the day, she's weak as a kitten, but she keeps callin for him anyhow.” Willie looked at Quentin and asked softly, “Did Barnabas kill her Frank, huh? Is that why he ain't come back?”

Willie shook his head with disgust. “You're nuts. Wha'd ya wanna run away with Julia for, anyway? There's a dozen girls that would run off with you in a New York minute if you just did this.” Willie crooked his forefinger and beckoned with it. “Whyja have to take Julia?”

“Because she's my friend and she deserves better and she wanted to go!” Quentin snapped. He almost told Willie that he loved Julia but stopped himself. Somehow he didn't think Willie would believe him and anyway, he really didn't care. It wasn't Willie's business.

“She's in the Middle Kingdom-Brugh, it's called.” At the look on Willie's face, Quentin burst out angrily, “It wasn't my idea to leave her there-it was Barnabas'! I tried to go back for her and the son of a bitch stopped me!”

“Oh yeah? Well, I guess he had a reason to!” Willie's voice rose, his concern with Julia combining with his loyalty to Barnabas; he must have been wild with concern and frustration. “You don't question him-he knows what he's doing!”

Quentin wondered what on earth he was doing wasting his time with Willie. In disgust, he muttered: “You know what? You're a real lap dog, aren't you?” Willie was on his feet at once and around the table, trying to get his hands around Quentin's throat. Quentin got up, too, throwing him off easily. Willie, though, was stubborn and launched himself at Quentin. They fell against the table, knocking it over with a loud crash. They wrestled with each other ineffectively, both of them frustrated and very worried about Julia.

“Stop that!” Barnabas roared from the stairs. Willie let go of Quentin's shirt immediately and, with contempt, Quentin shoved him aside. He looked toward the stairs, past Barnabas and into Maeve's eyes.

He felt something like a bolt of electricity pass through his body, his eyes widening, unable to tear himself away from her young and beautiful face. He felt a sudden, inexplicably strong desire for her-he wanted her to take him into her arms so that he could rip her blouse open. He wanted to touch her breasts, kiss the nipples, and feel her teeth sink into his neck-

“Quentin!” Barnabas shouted into his face, shaking him as if he was a rag doll. Barnabas grabbed his chin in a painful grip, forcing his eyes away from Maeve's face. “Look at me!” Stunned, Quentin looked at Barnabas. “Don't look at her again, Quentin-do you understand? She doesn't want you anyway-she wants Frank, and I have promised him to her!”

Quentin had regained his senses, realizing he'd come under some kind of spell. “Stop shaking me or I'll puke on you,” he warned Barnabas, feeling queasy with the warm stout churning around in his stomach. Barnabas let him go immediately, and Quentin backed up until he could sit down in a chair. His head was spinning. This was not the Maeve he remembered; this Maeve looked young, in the flower of youth-ravishingly beautiful. He wondered if Barnabas had changed her somehow-or was this what happened to vampires? He was afraid to ask. “What now?” he asked.

“And what do you want me to do, Barnabas?” Willie asked, with a hopeful sound in his voice. Obviously, he wanted to be left behind to do some other business for Barnabas. His face fell when Barnabas answered he wanted Willie to drive them back to the rath.

“Sleeping, I would imagine,” Barnabas answered. “I want you and Willie to cover the windows in the back of the car. If we are lucky, we'll be back inside the rath by dawn-but I don't want to take any chances.”

Quentin rather doubted he'd be able to sleep with two vampires in the back seat of the car, but he made no objection. It was a relief to get out of the little house and help Willie screen the car windows. He didn't know what Barnabas had in mind, but he was relieved that they were going back to the rath. He was sure that the Fir Bolg wouldn't dream of harming Julia but he wouldn't feel comfortable until he could see her for himself.

It's a huge phallic symbol, Julia thought, as the party of Tuatha de Danaan triumphantly approached the mystical sovereignty of the High King. This was Lia Fail, the Stone of Destiny, Julia knew. She immediately thought of Quentin and felt her body begin to burn with an embarrassing surge of shameful lust. They'd passed through the entrance of the Forradh, one of two connected ring forts. Julia knew all this from pictures and from books. To distract herself from her desire for Quentin, she asked Jason: “Do the events here parallel Sithein?”

“To a great extent, yes, my Lady,” Jason answered, out of the side of his mouth. “The Lia Fail is coronation stone of the High King-it still is here. There was, as you know, a curse placed upon it in Sithein.”