The Book of Dreams (11 page)

“
I
can see why you like this spot,” Laurel said when she spotted the statue.

Gwen had suggested they meet at the Mackenzie monument on the west side of the Ontario Legislative Building. The sculpture by Walter Allward was different from the other statues of rulers and politicians that adorned Queen’s Park. Perhaps this was the reason it was hidden away in the leafy shadows behind the building.

“He reminds me of a fairy king,” Gwen said with a little smile.

Laurel gazed wistfully at the figure cast in bronze. He was striding across a low stone wall with a book in his hand. His features were noble and majestic. There was something about him that reminded her of Ian. As the Summer King, cloaked in a blue mantle with a brooch shaped like flame, her former boyfriend had the same air of command. When in Faerie, he wore his raven-black hair to his shoulders, bound with a circlet of sapphires. In the Earthworld he preferred jeans and a leather jacket, with his hair cut short and a jewel piercing his eyebrow. While dealing with his two sides had been exciting, it didn’t help that the human part could be temperamental. Add Laurel’s own volatile nature to the mix and their relationship had seldom been peaceful.

“We got along best when we danced together,” Laurel murmured, more to herself than to Gwen. “We used to waltz all night on the summer lawns of his palace in Hy Brasil.”

She let out a sigh, then forced herself to return to the present.

Gwen had collapsed on a bench nearby. Having run all the way from the subway to avoid being late, she was still catching her breath.

“Another interview?” Laurel asked, noting the suit and high heels.

“Eat first, then talk,” she pleaded. “I’m starving!”

Sitting together, they opened their lunches. Laurel raised her eyebrow at the sight of Gwen’s sandwich: a large crusty roll stuffed with slices of pepper salami and mozzarella. She herself had rye bread with shavings of cucumber on a spread of cream cheese.

Gwen noticed the difference too, and grinned. “Some people are slim, some are rounder. I like my food.”

Laurel felt a twinge of envy. Gwen obviously liked herself as well.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” she said to Gwen. “It’s magical. I never noticed this spot, though it’s so close to Massey. I don’t know the city very well. I grew up in Niagara Falls.”

The last of the summer sun shone through the trees and lit up the pink rosebushes around them. Though the road beyond was busy, the sounds of traffic were muted by the dense foliage.

“There are little bits of magic all over Toronto,” Gwen said in between mouthfuls. “I started to find them soon after I got here. It’s a question of perception, isn’t it? Not just where you look, but
how
. There’s an old bank near Front Street. I spotted it the day I applied for a job at
The Star
newspaper. There in the cornerstone of the building, half-hidden behind tall weeds and overlooking a parking lot, was a beautiful centaur, carved in white marble! He looked as if he were supporting the bank on his shoulders. I could hardly believe what I was looking at, he was so beautiful. I stood there admiring him for ages. Then just as I turned to leave, I swear, he winked at me!”

They both laughed.

“I’m not surprised you see these things,” Laurel said. “You have a very different attitude toward Faerie than me. It’s like being brought up in the same family, but not having the same experience. Faerie has only been good for you; I can’t say the same.” Her features looked pained. “First it took my sister away, then came the disaster that was Ian and me. You know, most times I wish that world never existed.”

Gwen looked sympathetic and didn’t speak at first. Then she asked curiously, “So how come you’re studying folklore?”

Laurel was caught off guard. Her smile was wry. “
Touché.
That’s the one thing I can thank Faerie for. I really didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I always loved sports, but I never settled into one or trained long enough to be a professional. If it wasn’t for Faerie, I think I would have drifted through university without knowing what to study or where I was going. I really am fascinated by the subject. As you know from my story, my granddad also became a professor of folklore after his involvement with Faerie.”

Gwen finished her sandwich and unwrapped a chocolate bar. “You want to know something?” Her voice was quiet. “I haven’t suffered as much as you, I know that, but it hasn’t been easy. Being in love with a mortal king is no picnic either. Dara is the hereditary King of Inch Island. While that doesn’t mean much in modern Ireland, it does mean a lot to the islanders and even more so to Faerie, not to mention Dara himself. Though he doesn’t live on Inch all the time, he won’t go too far away. We’ve talked about marriage, but then comes the hitch. No matter how much he loves me, he won’t emigrate. As for me”—she let out a huge sigh—“I’m American. I love my country. I mean, I found it hard enough crossing the border to come here. How could I cross the ocean?”

The hint of despair in Gwen’s voice touched Laurel. With sudden insight, she saw that Gwen’s constant good spirits were a hard-won battle. There was no solution to the dilemma of a long-distance relationship. Their love was not a fairy tale. They could not live happily ever after in two separate places.

“Well, never mind all that,” Gwen said, brushing the crumbs off her lap. “Let’s get down to business. Any luck with Dana?”

Laurel shook her head. “She didn’t go in or out of her house all morning.”

Gwen’s face creased with worry. “And there was no sign of her at school today. Something has happened to her!”

“I don’t think so,” Laurel countered. “Her parents have been going to work as usual, and they look happy enough. They wouldn’t be acting normal if something was wrong. We must be missing her somehow.”

“We’re being blocked,” Gwen swore. “That’s it!”

Laurel frowned. “Do you feel a spell around you? I don’t.”

“Me neither,” Gwen admitted. “But I swear I’ll go crazy if we don’t make some headway soon. I feel like a rat on a wheel. We’re running in circles and getting nowhere.”

“How’s the job hunt going?” Laurel asked with sympathy.

“It’s not,” she groaned. “My feet are killing me, bloody high heels, and I hate interviews. Sucking up to people just to get hired, it’s degrading.”

It was so unlike her to be negative, Laurel knew things were bad.

“And I’m worried sick,” Gwen continued. “Not one phone call or e-mail from Ireland. It’s not like Dara. It’s not like any of them. The only good news is that there aren’t any reports of strange deaths in the Irish media. I’ve been monitoring them on the Web.”

The image that constantly tormented her flashed through her mind yet again: her boyfriend, Dara, lying facedown on the ground, limbs motionless. She was close to tears.

Laurel, too, was living with the nightmare of no word from her loved ones. As each day passed with no sign of Honor or Ian, she felt the threat around her loom closer. And it was all the more sinister for being insubstantial. How were they to fight shadows?

“What can we do that we haven’t done already?” she said, exasperated.

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Gwen pulled out a brown envelope from her shoulder bag. “I’m going to Ireland.”

Not for the first time Laurel marveled at the iron will behind Gwen’s mild manner. But she was even more surprised when Gwen handed her the envelope. Inside were hundreds of large bills.

“There’s a small fortune here!”

Gwen nodded. “It came by courier the day Granny contacted me about our mission. It’s from my friend Matt, the businessman in the Company of Seven. He’s a millionaire. Years ago, he was the sales rep of this company that was going bust and he got all the workers together to buy shares so they could keep their jobs. Then the Celtic Tiger hit, the economic boom in Ireland, and now they’re rich.”

“I love stories like that,” Laurel said with a grin. “But you can’t give me this. Your friend meant you to have it.”

“I’ve split what Matt sent. That’s your half. It’s his way of helping the mission. If we need to buy anything or rent a car or whatever.” Gwen looked suddenly uncertain. “I doubt he meant me to take a free trip, though.”

“It’s the right decision,” Laurel assured her. “We’re in the dark. We don’t know anything and communications are down. I’d go too if I thought it would help.”

Gwen looked grateful for support. “Only one needs to go,” she said, “and I’m unemployed with nothing to lose. You must keep trying to reach Dana.”

“That’s the plan, then,” Laurel agreed. “Good luck. Call me as soon as you get there.”

• • •

Gwen was packing when Dara rang. She dropped the receiver at the first sound of his voice.

“I’m here! I’m here!” she cried, scrambling to retrieve it.

Her heart almost burst with relief and joy.
He wasn’t dead!
She could see him so clearly in her mind: the nut-brown hair framing strong features, the mischievous look in his eyes, the slightly crooked grin. The first time they had met was on an island road when he knocked her down on his bicycle. She was only sixteen, under a fairy spell, and unable to move. Thinking he had hurt her, he hoisted her over his shoulders and carried her to Granny Harte’s cottage. On holidays in Ireland, Gwen had become entangled with Faerie when her cousin Findabhair was abducted by the High King, Finvarra. When Dara heard the story, he was quick to join her. Gwen had liked him from the start, though she was too shy and insecure to show it; but it soon became obvious that he liked her too. She would never forget the sunny day they wrestled in the cold waters of Lough Swilly, and the heart he drew in the sand around his name and hers.

He loved to tease her and make her laugh. “You have a brilliant laugh,” he would say. When she told him that she had never had a boyfriend, his reaction was instant. “I can’t believe no one has fancied you!” And of course when she asked him if he thought she was fat, his response was better still. “You’re not skin and bones if that’s what you mean. You’re lovely. I couldn’t help but notice when your clothes were wet.”

Though they lived in separate countries, their love had survived across time and distance. They spoke daily on the phone, sent e-mails and letters, and took holidays together whenever they could. Each ignored the cloud hanging over them, the fact that neither wanted to emigrate. They were young. They still had hope.

“Are you well, love?” Dara asked her now.

“Yes, I’m fine! Are you?”

He didn’t answer the question, nor did he give her the chance to ask again.

“How is the girl? Is Dana all right?”

His words were abrupt. She heard the urgency and answered at once.

“I think so. I mean most likely, yes, or we’d know otherwise. We haven’t been able to reach her in person but we’ve been to her home and—”

“Thank God.”

His relief was audible.

“Dara, what is it?”

Ever direct, he gave her the full brunt of the news.

“It’s worse than we could have imagined, even with the warnings. The gateways have been destroyed. All of them. The bond between Faerie and the Earthworld has been severed.”

Gwen caught the cry in her throat. She forced herself to stay calm. She was the Captain of the Company of Seven. She could keep a cool head.

“What are the consequences?” she asked immediately. “How long can the worlds exist without each other?”

From her own mission for Faerie, she knew that the destinies of both worlds were inextricably linked. She had faced Crom Cruac, the Great Worm, the guardian of the balance between the worlds.

I lie curled on the branch of the Tree of Life that bears both Faerie and your world like two golden apples. Two orbs, two moons that eclipse each other, one fantasy, one reality, balanced side by side. Humanity cannot exist without its dreams, but for any dream to exist there must be a sacrifice.

Dara’s reply confirmed her fears.

“You know yourself, we are responsible for Faerie’s existence. Without us, the Summer Land is doomed.”

“Then so are we,” she said gravely. “Faerie is the Land of Dreams. Humanity needs to believe in something greater than itself. We need our dreams to keep us going.”

“The strike is against both worlds,” Dara agreed. “But how it has been brought about is still a mystery. Granny has gleaned only the smallest part of the truth. We are still suffering the consequences of the death of the First King.”

“What?!”

Of course Gwen knew the story, it was part of her own tale. How Finvarra, the first High King of Faerie, had lost his immortality when he fought Crom Cruac as one of the Company of Seven.

“But that matter was resolved,” she argued, “when the Midsummer Fire was lit by the Summer King and Faerie was healed.”

“Apparently not,” was all Dara could say. “More lay in the shadows than we could know. Foul plans were set in motion before the Fire was lit. Who or what enemy laid them is uncertain, but we now face the dire results.”

Gwen fought against the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. The Rescue of Fairyland was mankind’s eternal duty, but this was obviously much bigger and more sinister than anything previously faced.

“What can we do?” she whispered.

“The girl is the key,” Dara said, “even as Granny foresaw. The Light-Bearer’s Daughter must restore the gateways and soon. The worlds have begun to drift apart. By the power of the next convergence—
Samhain
—they will align once more. But unless a bridge is there to bind them, they’ll drift again. And if they do, it will be forever.”

Gwen knew that the worlds collided at certain times in the year. These occasions were celebrated in Faerie as feast-days even as they were once held sacred by the Celtic peoples:
Imbolc
, the spring festival at the beginning of February;
Lá Bealtaine
, May Day;
Oíche Lár an Tsamhraidh
, Midsummer’s Eve in June;
Lá Lughnasa
or Lammas Day in August; and
Samhain
, the autumnal feast and the beginning of the Celtic new year, which began on
Oíche Shamhna
, Halloween.