Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(11)

Her mind raced through the details she remembered of this Tuatha dé Danann. Macha was a war Fae, but also was known for protection. She had once been a kind and motherly figure before mankind tried to kill her and her babe.

There was a small chance that Macha would help. Sorcha was a strong woman, capable, and frustrated by the limitations men placed upon her. Her frustrations would call out to a faerie such as this.

None of this guaranteed safety. In fact, Sorcha might argue the exact opposite was more likely to happen.

Faeries weren't trustworthy creatures.

“I wish to stop the blood beetle plague,” she said. “If there is a way to save my father, to prevent other deaths, I would like to know it.”

“You are a smart girl. No promises, no questions, just a statement I cannot interpret in any other way.” One of Macha’s brows lifted. “I like you.”

“I did not come here to beg for help from the Fae. Nothing comes without a price and I have very little to give.”

Macha’s gaze turned stormy, and she strode towards Sorcha. Closer and closer she came, growing ever larger until they stood toe to toe. Sorcha’s neck ached as she tilted her head. The faerie was easily seven feet tall and her hair made her seem even larger. The cloud of color sparked with static electricity.

“You want something that you are incapable of without help. You have to ask for it, Sorcha. Ask for my assistance, and I will give you all you desire.”

“I don’t know your price.”

“And you won’t until we strike a deal.”

Sorcha sucked in a deep breath. Their chests brushed, a zing of magic traveling through her and sparking at the points of her ears.

“Will you provide a cure for the blood beetles?”

The soft sigh brushed across Sorcha’s face and smelled of crushed grass. “Yes, I will. And I will do even more. So long as you are on this journey to find your cure, your father will remain alive.”

Sorcha thought she might faint. “Papa?”

“It is the least I can do. I am sending you on a quest, little human. Far from your homeland, from your family, from everything you know. Centuries have passed since I last saw the cure you seek. Even I am uncertain where it lies, although I have my suspicions.”

“If you don’t know where it is, how am I supposed to find it?”

“There are others who know.” Macha cupped Sorcha’s chin, her hand so large it touched both pointed tips of her ears. “You will start by finding my children. Their names are Cormac and Concepta. Use their knowledge wisely.”

“You want me to find two faeries? Here?”

“They were banished from the Otherworld and remain in yours.”

“Glamoured or invisible?” Sorcha asked.

Macha's hand clenched, squeezing Sorcha's jaw until her eyes watered. “Glamoured to look as you do. They will appear as nobles, but they should be the only twins living in the same manor. Find them, and you’ll start your journey.”

“What do I say to them?”

“That I asked you to find them, and that they owe me a favor. Tell them what you seek. They will guide you.”

Sorcha wasn’t so certain that was the truth. Two unknown Fae who owed a favor to a Tuatha dé Danann? Her breakfast rose dangerously high in her throat.

Air filled her lungs as Macha stepped away. The myths had not prepared her for the cold gaze of a Fae. She wanted to flee from that angry look. What had she done? Had she somehow insulted this faerie of war before she had even started?

“Thank you,” Sorcha said, “for my father. He has suffered for far too long.”

“I care little for human life, but I can see how important it is to you. As such, it is my pleasure.”

Though it made her sweat to ask, Sorcha swallowed hard and murmured, “What is your price?”

Endless possibilities unfolded before her. The Fae might ask for a child, for Sorcha’s life, or something as simple as an unnamed favor.

She wasn’t certain how much she was willing to pay. Many faceless infected people may not be worth a life enslaved. But for her father? He had saved her from begging, took her out of the slums and into the city, gave her a life.

How could she say no?

Macha bent and dipped her fingers in the holy water of the shrine. She licked the droplets and smiled. “You will endure hardship, pain, and perhaps even death. I will enjoy watching your struggles as payment.”

“What kind of quest are you sending me on?” Sorcha heard her own voice as though underwater. Distorted and slow, it echoed back upon her.

“One that benefits the both of us,” Macha replied. “You get your cure. I get my children back.”

“What does the cure have to do with your children?”

“Nothing at all. But in finding your cure, I trust you will bring my children back to Tír na nóg.”

“The land of youth?” Sorcha stumbled over the words. “The Otherworld?”

“I am growing tired of explaining my decisions to you. Leave now, or I will run you out of this shrine and rescind my offer.”

Sorcha scooped up her bag and spun on her heel. She could not risk the Fae changing her mind. This was a chance to save her father! To save everyone!

At the edge of the clearing, she paused. One foot crossed the threshold of the shrine and into the forest beyond. The other remained in the enchanted glen.