talk to you later.’ I didn’t like the way she looked; she was still undisputedly the most beautiful woman in the world, but in her eyes I saw a haggard look. She dashed out of the room.
I was a bit taken aback. I turned to Nieve and said, ‘Is she all right?’
‘She is fine, Conor.’
I let out a sigh of relief and then took in a lungful of air and it hit me, I could feel the vitality seep into every cell. A smile took over my face and I said to myself, ‘I’m back.’ Then I threw my hands out to my sides and shouted to the roof, ‘I’m back!’ I startled a stable boy who quickly led the horses away – that’s when I saw him. Detective Fallon with dishevelled clothes and hair shooting out in all directions was crouched in the corner and he had a wild glint in his eyes. He looked like one of those girls in a slasher movie that had just witnessed her entire sorority get killed.
‘Oh my gods,’ I said.
Our eyes locked, it scared me, I had seen that look before. He was wearing the same face that Fergal wore when he went mad and tried to kill Cialtie.
‘Brendan?’
At the sound of his name he pulled the gun from between his knees and levelled it at me.
I dropped my banta stick and said, ‘Hey, calm down, Brendan, no one is going to hurt you.’ I walked slowly towards him, palms up. He aimed the gun at my face, his arm shaking. I wondered if he even knew who he was. ‘It’s OK, you’re safe. Your name is Brendan Fallon, you have a wife and a daughter, it’s OK we’ll sort this out.’
At the mention of his family a spark of sanity fluttered in his eyes. He dipped the gun a bit, but then both of us were startled by a voice to the left shouting my name.
‘Conor – catch!’
A banta came sailing through the air. As I caught it, time slowed like it always does when I’m in mortal peril. I saw the lights go out in Fallon’s eyes and I could actually see the muscles in his fingers as they tightened on the trigger, I could almost hear them. I suspected that guns didn’t work in The Land but I didn’t want to take that chance. I performed the same manoeuvre as before, except this time I hit the gun with the light end of the stick and rounded on Fallon’s head with the heavy end. I hit him way harder than I wanted to – that wasn’t my fault, the stick had been thrown by Araf and his stick is filled with lead. The gun clicked at some point during the fracas but it didn’t fire. I was right, they don’t work here. Fallon went down like a ton of concrete and I instantly felt real guilty.
I rushed to him – he was out cold. Nieve strolled over and placed her hands on both sides of his head. ‘Did I kill him?’ I asked.
‘He’ll live,’ she replied and unceremoniously dropped his head back onto the floor.
Two guards arrived and I instructed them to carry him to the infirmary and keep a guard. ‘Be nice to him,’ I called after them, ‘and make sure he gets some of that willow tea when he wakes up, he’s going to need it.’
‘Can I have my stick back?’
‘Araf!’ I shouted as I turned. I had almost forgotten he was there. I ran to the Imp and wrapped my arms around him. It was like hugging a refrigerator and I could tell he didn’t like it.
‘Are you injured?’ he asked.
‘No, I’m fine.’
He nodded. ‘I have to get back to work now,’ he said and turned to leave.
‘Well, it’s great to see you again too,’ I called after him. I laughed – this was the strangest of homecomings.
Well, it was just me and Nieve. Not my favourite relative but I didn’t care. She stood in the middle of the room wringing her hands; the look on her face wiped the smile off my own.
‘Where’s Dad?’ I asked.
‘Conor,’ she said, looking down at her hands and then directly into my eyes, ‘Oisin is dying.’
Chapter Three
Dad
I followed Nieve through the winding corridors of the west wing. Dad was in The Lord’s Chamber, the same one that Cialtie had used and where we had found Dad’s runehand.
‘Prepare yourself,’ Nieve warned, ‘he does not look good.’
My stomach churned as I opened the door. Mom, Fand and an Imp-healer were standing around a bed wearing expressions ranging from puzzlement to grief. I had to cover my mouth to hide the gasp – he looked awful. My father’s skin was ashen grey, paper-like, and his face was dotted with sores. Most of his hair had fallen out and what was left was pure white. My first thought was that he was dead already, that’s how bad he looked. I knelt down next to the bed and held his hand.
‘Dad, Dad, it’s me, Conor.’
I didn’t think he could hear me but then his eyes flickered and opened. An almost Duir smile lit his face. ‘Conor? Conor, are you all right?’ His voice was faint and raspy. ‘Deirdre said you were in trouble.’
‘I’m fine, Dad.’ I didn’t know what to say, his famous dark eyes had lost their shine. I could hardly stand it.
‘Good,’ he said, ‘I was worried about you. So how was your trip home?’
I laughed, one of those painful laughs that are half a chuckle and half crying. ‘It was awful.’
‘What happened when you got back?’
‘The police arrested me for your murder.’
This brought a huge grin to his face. ‘No!’
‘Yes,’ I laughed through tears.
Dad started to laugh too but his laughter was replaced by a spasm of coughs. He had to close his eyes for a half a minute. When he opened them he squeezed my hand and said, ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
‘Me too.’ I held his hand for a while and then said, ‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘For what?’
‘I never realised until I went back, just how much you gave up for me. I don’t know how you stood it.’
‘Well, when it got really bad, I used to go to your room and watch you sleep, that gave me strength.’
I dropped my head on his chest and wept openly. He stroked my hair. ‘I have to rest now,’ he said, ‘we’ll talk later.’
Mom put her hands on my shoulders and guided me out. In the hallway we held onto each other; then she led me into an adjacent room.
A Leprechaun brought in a tray of tea. Mom thanked her and sent her away. As she handed me a cup, I asked, ‘What’s the matter with him?’
‘We’re not sure,’ she said as she poured herself a cup, ‘but we think it is his hand.’
‘His runehand? The one he reattached in the Choosing?’
‘Yes. The Land has a life force that binds us to it; your father gave that all up when he escaped to the Real World. I thought getting his hand back would restore his immortality – I was wrong, it has done just the opposite. Our best guess is that The Land is confused, it sees your father as two things, a young hand that belongs here and an older man that does not. The Land is choosing his hand.’
‘Like a heart transplant patient rejecting a donor organ?’
‘I don’t know what you mean but rejecting is a good word. Oisin’s hand is rejecting the rest of him. It is killing him.’
‘Isn’t there anything you can do?’
‘We have tried everything, to no avail, but there is one desperate measure left to us. Just