Page 32 of The Gods Time Forgot

Thirty-Two

Rua didn’t know how long she slept, but she could see the day’s light peeking through Emma’s curtains.

Groggy from the sedative still running through her veins, she sat up. Her dreams had been plagued with images of her cutting a woman’s throat. Or maybe it was a memory; she couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

“Are you ready?” Mara asked from the doorway. Her face was gaunt, and the bags under her eyes told Rua she hadn’t slept a wink.

“You let me sleep?” Rua wished she hadn’t.

“I didn’t want to carry you the whole way,” Mara answered, stifling a yawn.

“What time is it?” Rua asked. Samhain began at sunset.

“Time enough,” was all Mara said as she helped Rua out of the bed. “We’d better get a move on. Flossie is expecting Mrs. Smith and me home on the first train out. She’ll come looking when we don’t arrive.”

Rua, feeling more like herself after her rest, followed Mara out through the veranda and was struck with a terrible sense of d é j à vu. The splendid summer home cast a long shadow over the earth, its gilded grasp not willing to let go.

They walked down the steps, and Mara hesitated by the fountain, looking out at the untidy lawn, dreary with the fading daylight. The grass was uncut, the bushes overgrown, the limestone pathway unkempt. “It’s all so different now,” Mara said, dropping her head. “I brought this on, invited you into our lives.”

Rua didn’t answer, though she wasn’t sure she agreed with her. How much of this was Mara’s doing and how much was predetermined? There were too many things at play here, and she doubted someone like Mara had any real influence. Mara was likely nothing more than a puppet on strings.

They continued through the garden, finding the place where the bushes bowed and granted them entrance. A ringing in Rua’s ears and the low thrum of forest told her where she needed to go. She found the source and walked against the flow of the creek as it curved and bent around the earth until finally she found where the water pooled.

The hellmouth.

When Rua looked back, Mara was a good distance away. The look on her face was one of reverent trepidation.

“What are you waiting for?” Rua shouted. Had Mara lost her nerve? She had led the horse to water, but she was too afraid to watch it drink.

Rua looked at the small opening in the ground, the entrance to the cave. She didn’t like the idea of crawling back inside the narrow hole. There was a horrible smell coming from inside it.

She walked past it, kneeling beside the basin of water. She cupped her hands and dipped them under the water. The temperature was frigid, and still it invited her. Hungrily, she brought it to her mouth, letting it dribble down her chin and arms in the process. Over and over, she repeated this, drinking the water, letting it fill her with life.

Little moments flooded her mind. Flashes of blood and battle, grassy fields and gentle hills, warm fires and laughter. But it wasn’t enough to complete a picture.

Rua stood up, discarding her garments. The harsh wind whipped around her, bitterly cold, but as she stepped into the water, warmth shrouded her.

“What are you doing?” Mara asked, still at a distance.

Ignoring her, Rua dove into the water. As her body was enveloped fully by the hellmouth’s water, her mind exploded, flooding her with images of her scattered life. All the pain and the suffering, the love and the betrayal. Her sisters, C ú Chulainn, but most of all, her power. She felt it all, writhing inside her, begging for release, and still she could not free it.

Frustrated, she rose to the surface, steam rising from the water with her. Taking a deep breath, she lay back, letting herself float atop the water. She closed her eyes and listened.

“You have a choice to make, but know once you do this, I cannot stop her,” Nemain said. “She is well within her right to retaliate.”

“She has no right!” Rua cried. “I have lived a lifetime without him because of her demand for retribution. The pain never dulls.” She clutched her chest. “It grows wild with every passing minute.”

Nemain stroked Rua’s hair, consoling her.

“You will have three months to find him. Three months to rekindle what you’ve lost and bring him back. But in that time, if you do not succeed, he will die a mortal death at the hands of Badb.”

“Why does she get the final say?” she asked, brimming with hatred.

Nemain gave her a knowing look. “You know why.”

Rua did know. It was Badb who’d sworn the oath to kill him. Cú Chulainn was only half god. And Nemain had gone behind her back to undo it.

“How did you find him?” Rua asked, but Nemain shook her head.

“You only get one chance to undo death. This is yours.”

“What if he rejects me?”

“Sweet sister, your love is pure. Trust in that. His death was not your choice,” Nemain said, but it did not help ease her worry.

She would not be so quick to forgive if it were the other way around and Cú Chulainn had killed her. But Cú Chulainn was not her. He did not mirror her bloodthirst nor her penchant for revenge.

“I will keep this from Badb for as long as I can, but you have only till Samhain. He must remember who you are and choose your love before then. Sundown, not a minute after. Once the veil is lifted, she will come and finish what she started.”

“He won’t remember me?” Rua asked.

“Cú Chulainn has moved on. You must find who he is now and reconcile. Come back without him and it will all have been for nothing. His death will be permanent. This is your only chance.”

“Show me where he is.” Rua had no doubt that she could find him and explain. Their love truer than any oath. She would make this right and bring him home.

Nemain smiled, thoughtful, almost pitying. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Rua nodded as they walked to Oweynagat.

“Go ahead.” Nemain gestured toward the entrance. “There’s one more thing,” she said as Rua entered the cave. “You won’t remember any of this. You will lose yourself and succumb to the mortal realm. If you do not return before Samhain, with or without him, Badb will kill you both.”

“What?” Rua spun around.

“You must decide if your love for the warrior is worth risking everything.”

There was no question in her mind. She’d spent centuries wrapped in a haze of grief, but no more.

“How will I find him?”

“I’ve taken steps to ensure you are started on the right path, but there is no more I can do,” Nemain said. “I’ve already done too much. Badb will react, and her wrath will be unrelenting.”

Rua threw her arms around Nemain. “Slán agat.”

“Slán leat, a Mhacha.”

Gasping, she jolted upright, standing neck deep in the water.

She had to get back to Finn before it was too late.

Rua ran through the water, approaching the mound of grass where Mara sat before the cave. It looked as though she were talking to someone, but Rua could hear nothing.

She put on her clothes and slipped the cape back over her shoulders, all while trying to think of a way to get back to Manhattan that didn’t require Mara’s help.

Mara was no longer useful, her information lacking and skewed in her own favor. She was wrong to think she could bring Emma back. These must have been the assurances Nemain talked about. She’d lured Mara into the woods and had her bring her a sacrifice. Wherever Emma was, she wasn’t coming back. Rua shoved the lingering guilt aside and started walking back toward the Harringtons’ estate.

“Stop!” Mara shouted. “Where are you going?”

“To find Finn,” Rua said.

“You can’t go! You won’t make it back in time. She is coming.”

“Who?” She turned around.

“Who do you think?” Mara shouted.

Badb.

“Is that who you’ve been talking to when you go visit the hellmouths?” Rua asked, knowing that could mean only one thing. All of this—getting Rua up to Conleth Falls, separating her from Finn—was Mara’s doing at Badb’s request. Nemain had told her that Badb would retaliate. This was it. Mara was keeping them apart long enough so that Badb could kill them both.

“As a matter of fact, it is. The better sister.” Mara smiled.

“What is your point?” Rua asked.

“I’d heard the rumors about the hellmouth. About the tales of disfigurement and unholy possession. I’d heard the rumors and still thought I knew better.” Mara was shaking now. “I, the devoted fool, brought my best friend into the fold. Promises of rewards greater than I could ever imagine. I was selfish, and now she’s trapped in there because of you.” Tears streamed down her face. “Because of you!” She lifted up a jagged knife and waved it at Rua.

“Because of me?” Rua laughed. “Mara, this matter is well beyond your understanding.”

“Badb told me you would dismiss me! But I understand everything. She told me of how you betrayed your sisters for a man. A man who does not want you!” Those last words pricked her, and Mara knew it. Emboldened by her weapon, she took a step closer. “He knows who you are, and he’s chosen someone else.”

“And you betrayed your friend because a voice in the woods told you to.”

“I did not betray her,” Mara said. “Emma was happy to do it.”

“You wanted favor with the Morr í gan, and you used your friend to get it.”

“Get in.” Mara’s voice was cold as she used the knife to point to the hellmouth.

Rua didn’t move.

“I will return your body to Badb. Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter,” Mara said, coming unhinged.

“You can’t kill me,” Rua said, though she wasn’t sure that were true. Nemain had bent the rules to get her to this realm, and she might very well die if stabbed.

“I can!” Mara charged her, swinging violently without a care.

“Mara, stop!” Rua shouted, trying to grab hold of her wrist, but she missed. At the same time, Mara’s knife cut through Rua’s forearm.

Both of them froze, looking down at what she’d done. Blood soaked the pale-green sleeve of her arm, spreading as quickly as the pain set in. Mara made eye contact with her then, and like a fresh-lit match, her eyes glowed with the reflection of Rua’s.

Panic-stricken, Mara dropped the knife.

Rua bent down to pick it up, enraged by Mara’s audacity. As she took a step forward, Mara moved backward.

“Why do you want to stay here?” Mara asked, her words flowing with fear. “There’s nothing for you here. You’ve driven Emma’s reputation into the ground. You can’t go back and live with the Harringtons as if none of it happened. Your time is done here.”

Mara was right, but it wasn’t going to stop Rua. She owed it to Finn to try. She couldn’t enter the hellmouth without letting him know what she remembered and warn him of the dangers. But she was running out of time and had no resources to get to him.

Rua took another step toward Mara, contemplating her next moves. Mara raised her arms in defense.

“I’m not going to kill you, Mara. Why would I do that when I have you to thank for the return of my memories? I never would have gotten here if it weren’t for you.”

“Then what are you going to do to me?”

“Get in,” Rua said, pointing toward the opening of the hellmouth.

Mara shook her head. “What?”

“I said get in.”

Mara knelt down, trembling before the black hole. “It’s not time yet.” They both glanced up at the sky, the sun slowly fading from view. “Nothing will happen to me.”

“You don’t really know that for sure, though, do you? If a goddess puts you into the hole, maybe that trumps the holy day.” Rua shrugged. “Maybe nothing will happen. Or maybe you’ll meet my sisters. Hopefully not Badb, though; she’s not really the forgiving sort, and I think she was expecting you to deliver me.”

“Please,” Mara begged. “I don’t want to die.”

Rua bent down so that her face was level with Mara’s. “If you make it until sunset tomorrow, feel free to come out. Not a minute before, or I’ll know,” she lied. She just needed Mara to stay out of the way long enough for her to get back to the city and find Finn. As she was now, uselessly mortal, she had no discernible connection to the hellmouth’s powers, but Mara didn’t know that.

“Don’t be fooled into believing that you’re the innocent here just because Finn is stupid enough to put you on a pedestal. He doesn’t know who he is. How can he know who you are? Even with his memories, he could never really know you. No one could.”

Mara’s voice was strained, full of pain and anger.

“Finn won’t go with you,” she continued, “and you’ll have missed your chance to return home. If Badb doesn’t find you, Flossie will, and she’ll send you to an asylum for the rest of your days.”

Rua didn’t know if she could bear the pain of Finn’s inevitable rejection, but she couldn’t just leave him here, unaware of Badb’s impending strike. Rua would rather live without Finn knowing he was alive then live safe in a world where he wasn’t. She’d already done it. And she’d spent centuries mourning his loss.

“Get in, Mara,” Rua said, noting the foul smell emanating from the hole. Sniveling, Mara lay flat on her back to go feetfirst.

Rua remembered the day in August she’d crawled out of the hole and the terror she’d felt at the unknown. Her clothes and hands had been covered in blood. Whose blood , she wondered.

Mara shimmied and inched her way in until she was no longer visible.

A few moments later, Mara cried, “Oh god! The smell.”

Rua heard retching.

“There’s something down here,” Mara shouted through her audible gagging. “It’s a body!”

Rua swallowed hard, remembering.

She studied the woman’s face. A fetch. The likeness remarkable. Not an identifiable difference.

Nemain had planned this down to the very last detail. How long had she known that Cú Chulainn would return? And how long would it take for Rua to forget everything?

The hope was unbearable. A chance to find the love she’d lost—the love she’d killed.

“I am Emma Harrington.” The woman spoke, wide eyed and daft, all too willing.

She handed Rua a knife and knelt down before her, tilting her chin upward. “It is my great honor to offer you my life, my home, my family, in exchange for a life in the god realm.”

Rua looked down at the knife in her hand.

She pressed the blade against Emma’s neck.

Guilt, sadness, anger, hate. All of it consumed her. But it didn’t matter—she needed Emma’s life.

Rua’s hand shook with the heinousness of the truth. These were the moments before she crawled out of the hellmouth, before Mara and the men came upon her.

The blood was Emma Harrington’s.

Rua had come to take her place by killing her.

It was amazing the way she’d allowed herself to believe she was a victim, that she and Emma, in some twisted way, were in this together. But the truth of it was, she was the goddess of death.

Resolved and ashamed, Rua left Mara and her dead friend in the hellmouth.