Ethan whistled low. “I know how to get to Wheelwright. Can you give me an address?”
Liam and Niamh explained how Ethan would have to go to get to the old house where the portal was hidden. It was tucked away on a wildlife sanctuary, far away from the iron and pollution of the cities and suburbs. It would be a miracle if Ethan’s four wheel drive would make it up the overgrown cart road leading in, but Ethan was confident the truck could handle it.
With the rest of them going on foot, Ethan and I climbed into the truck alone. Ciarán would need to carry Samantha. Apparently that didn’t bother her as much as it had bothered me. My stomach twisted at the memory of flying through the air in Liam’s arms. He ran so fast I couldn’t even open my eyes from the pressure. After that, I’d asked them to knock me out when we had to travel like that.
We didn’t really talk for the first twenty minutes of the ride. Ethan called his father to tell him he wasn’t feeling well and needed to take the rest of the day off. I stared out the window, trying to quiet the annoying voice that gnawed at me about the people and things I was leaving behind. It didn’t matter that I thought I’d come to peace with my decision, the voice was not going anywhere.
“So tell me what it’s like in this place we’re going. Teer Nah Nog. My memory is pretty fuzzy,” Ethan said, glancing over at me.
I took a deep breath. “It’s incredibly beautiful there. Overwhelmingly beautiful. It takes a while to adjust to how different everything is. I can’t really describe it, but maybe it could be compared to being on drugs. Like in movies when someone’s on an acid trip, everything feels louder and brighter and just ... more.”
“Groovy,” Ethan said, and I could tell he was trying to lighten my mood.
“Something like that,” I said. “Another thing is everything is alive. Maybe that’s not the right word. Maybe sentient fits better. The plants and trees respond when you touch them, it’s extraordinary. The houses are made from the trees. The trees that grow on the hillside form their roots into the frames of the houses. Then the Danaans add on to make homes. Niamh’s house is this elaborate underground mansion. You have to see it to believe it.”
“I sort of remember Aoife’s place felt like a castle. In my memories, the walls were gray stone with tapestries hung from them.”
I looked out the window at the passing trees as we got further into the country. “Aoife’s house is in a cave. It’s much different from Niamh’s. And even more spectacular is the Bruidhean. That’s where the king and queen live. It means fairy palace in English.”
Ethan nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “In one of my high school English classes we read this play about fairies. I can’t remember what it’s called, but Miss Bouchard got this weird, maniacal gleam in her eyes whenever she read parts of it out loud. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
I laughed, remembering the teacher he was talking about. She was an odd one. “Yes, it was A Midsummer’s Night Dream by Shakespeare.”
“The way you just described Tír na n’Óg reminded me of that.”
I smacked his arm. “You think I’m weird and maniacal?”
“No, no. Not that part. Just like you were in a trance remembering.”
“I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.”
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Ethan said, slapping his steering wheel.
“You’ll see. And I guarantee you’ll have a maniacal gleam in your eyes when you’re there.”
He swiped my hand off the bench seat and gave it a quick kiss. “I look forward to it.”
We got to the access road in about thirty minutes and bumped along for about a mile. It had been so long since a vehicle had been on this road that the indents from wheels were barely noticeable anymore. The trees rose on either side obstructing the blue sky with foliage. We saw our entire group waiting for us in a clearing, knee-high in grass. Ethan stopped the truck and we both jumped out.
“I think this is about as far in as you’ll get,” Liam said to Ethan. “There’s a ditch up ahead that isn’t worth the trouble. It’s only about a half-mile more.”
Ethan nodded and locked up his truck. Mosquitoes attacked us as we walked, creating a buzzing cloud around our heads. Luckily, it wasn’t long until I could see the old farmhouse. It was a pale yellow colonial built hundreds of years ago, but Niamh and her people kept it so well-maintained it was in perfect condition. There were a few outbuildings and a barn, but I didn’t know if they even used them. The most important part of the property was the root cellar behind the house that held the portal to Tír na n’Óg.