Нора Робертс: The Becoming

“Harken—Keegan’s brother—lives here. He’s a farmer. This is their farm. It was my father’s. I was born in his house.”

Marco’s gaze tracked back to hers. “That’s what he told you, but—”

“My grandmother told me, and it’s the truth. I’m remembering things I didn’t. And I’ll explain everything, I promise, but—”

She broke off when Harken and Morena came down the stairs—in clothes obviously hastily dragged on, as Morena’s shirt was inside out.

“Welcome home!” Sunflower hair unbraided and tangled, Morena rushed down to drop beside Breen and grab her in a fierce hug. “We’re so happy to see you.” She beamed at Marco, blue eyes dancing. “And you brought a friend. Is this Marco then? My nan said you were a handsome one, and she’s never wrong.”

She grabbed his hand to shake. “That’s Finola McGill, my nan. I’m Morena.”

“Okay.”

“I’m Harken Byrne, and you’re welcome here. A rough come through, was it? We’ll fix you up.”

“I’ve got it.” Keegan came in with a tankard.

Marco darted his gaze back and forth. Brothers, sure, the resemblance was apparent in the strong cheekbones, the shape of the mouth.

“Ale, is it?” Harken considered. “Well then, as long as you remembered—”

“It’s a basic potion, Harken. I can handle the basics as well as any.”

“Potion?” Marco started to push up, and his rich, dark skin went a little gray at the edges. “I say no to potions.”

“It’s a kind of medicine,” Breen assured him. “You’ll feel better for it.”

“Breen, maybe they look real good, these three, but they could be sucking you into some cult. Or—”

“Trust me.” She reached up to take the tankard from Keegan. “We’ve always trusted each other. I know it’s all hard to believe, or even begin to understand. But of anyone I know, it’s going to be easier for you. You already believe in multiverses.”

“Maybe you’re a pod-person Breen and not my real Breen.”

“Would a pod-person Breen know we sang a Gaga duet while you got a tattoo of an Irish harp inked in Galway? Here now, take a sip. Or would she have packed the pink frog mug you made for me when we were kids?”

“You packed that?” He took a sip when she held the tankard for him. “This messed up my head really good.”

“I know the feeling. Drink a little more.”

When he had, he scanned the three who stood watching him. “So …you’re all, like, witches.”

“Not me.” Smiling, Morena spread her silver-tipped violet wings. “I’m a faerie. Breen has a bit of Sidhe in her as well, but not enough for wings. She wished for them when we were little.”

Morena sat on the edge of the couch. “We were friends, you see, good, strong friends—the same as sisters—when we were littles. I know you’ve been a good, strong friend to her—the same as a brother—for a long time on the other side.”

Sitting back on her heels, Breen let Morena take the lead with a cheerful voice and understanding eyes.

“She missed you through the summer, but more, she felt the weight of not telling you, her dear friend, all of this. Now, as her good, strong friend, you’ll stand with her, and by her and for her. As we all will.”

“That was well done,” Harken said quietly, and laid a hand on Morena’s shoulder. “You’ll feel steadier after the potion, and hungry with it. Such a journey empties you out.”

“I’d say that part goes for the lot of us. We didn’t come through the Welcoming Tree,” Keegan told him. “I had to make a temporary portal, and to add to it, only formed it to bring two.”

“Ah well, you’ll be starving then. There’s enough stew left from supper to fill the holes. I’ll warm it up.”

“Is everybody really, really pretty here?” Marco wondered.

Morena gave him a light punch on the arm. “Aren’t you the one. Well, I’m no hand in the kitchen, but I’ll give Harken what I have with the food. You’ll be staying what’s left of the night, I take it. There’s room enough.”

“I wouldn’t want Marco to have to go through again so soon, so we couldn’t stay in the cottage tonight. And I’d rather not wake Nan and Sedric.” Breen looked at Keegan. “I’d appreciate staying for the night.”

“You’re welcome, of course. Coming around then, are you, Marco?”

“Yeah, actually. I feel good. Better than good. Thanks.” Then he frowned at the tankard as he sat fully up. “What’s in here?”

“What you needed. Finish that ale, brother, then Breen will bring you in for the meal. Harken’s more than a decent cook, so you won’t go hungry.”

When Keegan left them, Marco looked down at his ale. “You and me, girl, we need to have a real long talk.”

“I know it, and we will. And the flash drive I gave you, everything’s there. I wrote it as it happened, right back to meeting Morena and her hawk at Dromoland.”

“She’s the hawk girl?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, let me borrow your laptop, and I’ll read what you wrote. Then we can talk.”

“The laptop won’t work here. No tech in Talamh.”

For a moment, he—a worshipper of technology—could only stare. “You are shitting me. You can travel the multiverse, light candles across the room, grow wings, but you don’t have Wi-Fi?”

“It’s a thing. I’ll explain everything. I promise. Tomorrow, we’ll go back through, and to the cottage—our cottage on the bay. And you can read, and call Sally. You’re going to want a couple of nights off. We’ll just—we’ll say you decided to come back to Ireland with me for a few days, get me settled in again. You can’t tell him any of this, Marco.”

His eyes filled with dread. “We have to go through one of those portals again?”

“Yes, but it’ll be easier. I promise. Come on, you need food, and you need some sleep. Tomorrow … we’ll deal with everything else tomorrow.”

“How much else is there?”

“A lot.” She stroked his face, his clever little beard. “A big lot of else.”

“You were afraid to come back. I could see that. If it’s all magicks and faerie wings, why were you afraid?” He looked toward where Keegan and the others had gone. “Not of any of them. I could see that, too.”

“No, not of any of them. It’s a long story, Marco. For tonight, let’s just say there’s a Big Bad.”

“How big?”

“Big as they come. I’d be stupid not to be afraid, but I’m stronger than I was. And I’m going to get even stronger.”

He took her hand when he got to his feet. “You were always stronger than you thought. If this place helped you see that, it gets some points.”

“This place, these people, and others I want you to meet before you go home.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Now let’s eat, because I can smell that stew, and I’m starving.”

He let it go, mostly because he couldn’t fit any more in his head at one time. Though after he ate he didn’t expect to sleep, he dropped off the moment he rolled into the bed Keegan showed him.

The rooster woke him, which was strange enough. Added to it, he woke in a room not his own with a low fire simmering in a hearth, pale sunlight streaming through the lacy curtains at the windows, and the unsettling realization that none of the night before had been a dream.

He wanted Breen, and coffee, and a long, hot shower, and wasn’t sure where to find any of them.

He got up, and the fastidious Marco saw he’d slept in his clothes. Maybe one of the smoking-hot brothers could lend him something to wear after he got that shower.

He looked at his watch—one that let him keep track of his sleep, his steps, as well as the time—and frowned at the black display.