"What did you say? Faithful what?"

"Druid, Lady Emer."

"Druid? Like, those ancient Irish wizards who sacrificed people?"

He looked askance, opened and shut his mouth once or twice as if trying to figure out how to respond. "I do not know this word--Irish. And I have never sacrificed a person in my life, on my honor. I've had on occasion to be present, you see, to sanctify the procedure, but . . . in fact, to my discredit, I have been unable to fulfill my sacrificial duties as a druid."

His answer was far more than she'd expected. When would this farce end? "All right, sure." Emery crossed her arms. "What have you people been doing out here so much? Do you have some sort of theater troupe? Can't you find somewhere else to do your medieval history reenactment?"

"People? Have there been more of us?"

"That crazy warrior man last week. I'm sure you all know one another."

The druid held up his hands in a gesture of awkwardness, then clasped them. "Ah, well, you see, we do not. Could you tell me what this warrior man looked like?"

"I don't know," Emery huffed, shaking her head. "Big and strong, blond hair and beard, a sword. Oh, and he had weird eyes, one dark and one light."

"Ah! Oh great relief. Cearnach made it through. I, uh--I don't suppose you know where he went, do you?"

"How should I know? Probably to the nearest Renaissance festival."

"Renaissance . . .?"

"Forget about it. Just--just maybe I need to stay away from this place." Emery turned to go, swiping off her phone's flashlight and stepping a few paces before she realized that light was following her, shining on the grass before her feet, at her back. Looking down at her phone, she tried again to turn off her flashlight, only to realize that it was, as she'd thought, off. Spinning, she saw the man about ten paces away, his right hand extended, fingers splayed, a glowing white ball of light about the size of a tennis ball hovering above his palm. Taken aback, Emery could only stare at it for a moment. Then she approached him again. "How--how are you doing that?"

The druid was all seriousness, now, gray eyes glittering, a soft, otherworldly breeze rustling through his hair. "Do you not know my kind? Truly?"

Emery shook her head, her lower lip trembling slightly under a partially open mouth. "Is this real?"

Unexpectedly, the druid spun his fingers shut, snuffing out the ball of light. Only a celestial wisp of smoke remained, and that quickly rose into darkness and was gone. "Lady, all I know is what is real. But I sense danger, here. Is there not somewhere safer we could go? To speak in confidence?"

In the darkness, this previously absurd figure became suddenly solemn, speaking as if a ponderous conversation were necessary. In spite of her better judgment, Emery told him to follow her, and the pair walked out of the soccer field, up the brief embankment, and into the parking lot, where the orange street lights basked them in visibility. When the man saw her bike, he was intrigued, but it was clearly not enough to transport the two of them; he'd certainly not fit on her handlebars, especially with that heavy cloak. "We'll have to walk," she said. "My house is kind of far from here, though."

"How far?"

"I don't know--it'll take at least half an hour, maybe longer."

The druid turned back toward the field, the woods, and his features darkened. "We don't have that kind of time."

"What? Why not?"

An electricity seemed to jolt him into action. "No time, at all!" he cried, frantic, his eyes still toward the woods. He danced around Emery a bit, his trinkets jangling. "Lady, do you know our intended location?"

His behavior made Emery anxious. She didn't know what to make of it. "Y-yes, of course!"

Suddenly stopping right in front of her, the druid looked squarely into her eyes, his gray to her brown. "I must ask your permission, as well as your forgiveness. Do I have them?"

"Wh-why?"

"Lady!" he cried insistently. "Do I have them?"

"Ok ok! Yes! Fine!"

Immediately, the druid wrapped his left arm around her waist and with his right hand, whipped his cloak in front of both their bodies, calling, "Name our intended location!"

"Wha--?"

"Name the location!"

In the darkness of the thick brown cloak, a wind whipping around them, Emery cried, "Six, two, four Orchard Street!"

The wind intensified into a roar, but Emery could see nothing whatsoever, only heard the monstrous noise around them and wondered irrationally whether a tornado had approached without her noticing. Then, all at once, as quickly as it'd built up, the wind died into nothing, and the druid was removing his cloak as well as his arm, stepping away from her to reveal the back deck and patio of Emery's own house.

"How--?"

The druid relaxed, became playful again, grinned mischievously, did a sort of sideways half-bow. "Did the Lady doubt my magic?"

Emery found herself nodding emphatically. "Yes. Yes I did." She was shaking and had to sit down on a deck chair. How in the world they'd come to be in her yard, she had no idea. Behind her was her house, lights off in most rooms, but the deck light was on, illuminating the yard. Something occurred to Emery. "Where's my bike?"

"Ah. Yes. Well, I couldn't bring your metal horse. The magic is fickle."

"Seems all your spells are fickle."

The druid laughed a little, abashed. "Well, that's perhaps true."

"What was your name, again?" Emery felt rude for having forgotten, but everything had been so strange.

"Cathbad, lady. Cathbad."

"If it's all right, can I call you Cat? And sit down, please. You're making me nervous."

"As you wish." He lifted his cloak up and, with an unnecessary flourish, took a seat across from her. He proceeded to adjust his belt-full of items and gave a quick glance around his new location. "This abode is . . . pleasant, if strange. It is your dwelling place?"

Emery rubbed her forehead and sat back against her chair. "Yes." She sighed hugely. "Listen, I don't know what's going on. I don't know how you did what you just did or why you're here, but maybe if you explained a little to me . . ."

"Of course. Of course. Forgive my incompetence, Lady--"

"And you have to stop calling me Lady. I hate that so much."

Cathbad frowned. "Then what shall I call you?"

"Emery. That's my name."

"You no longer . . . go by Emer, then?"

"I've never gone by Emer. It doesn't even sound right with that long E at the start."

He, too, sat back and sighed. "I feared as much, La--Emery. When he told me you'd forgotten, I was incredulous. He's been known to grow sullen, dramatic, moody, if you will (though if it please you, don't tell him I've said it)."

"Who are you talking about?"

"My apologies. My Lord Cuchulain."

Emery snapped to attention. "Did you say Cullen?"

"As much or near to."

Leaning forward, Emery's temper flared. "Are you friends with that creep? He—he tried to—" But she couldn't go on in that direction; the butterflies began to dance. "Look, Cat. If you don't tell me what's going on, I'm just going to go to bed. I'm so, so tired, and for all I know, you're a figment of my imagination at this point. I could be sleeping right now, actually. Maybe I made it home an hour ago, and I'm literally in my bed."

"I will tell you all." Cathbad caught what he'd said and walked it back. "Not all. In fact, I cannot tell you very much . . . sadly, almost nothing."

"Because you can't, or because you don't want to?"

Cathbad appeared discomfited. "Ah, well, both, I'm afraid, and neither."

Emery began to fume, but she was too tired to argue. "You two really must be friends, then." She got up from her chair. "I'm going to bed. Good luck with all of--" she waved in the druid's general direction, "--that."

"No, stop!" Cathbad leapt to his feet, sending his paraphernalia clanking and jangling. "Forgive my brusqueness, dear Emery, but I've come to help. I swear that to you. You are in great danger. My friend, as you call him--Cullen, was it?--he tried to assist, but his ways are . . . complicated."

Sighing, Emery threw up her hands in frustration. "I don't understand all of you people. Can't you please just tell me what you know about Adam? That's all I care about."

"Adam?"

"Adam Lir--my friend. He disappeared a week ago, and that Cullen knows something about it."

Cathbad's expression widened and then regained composure, as if he'd just understood a mystery of the universe. "That is what concerns you? Lir's disappearance?" Emery nodded. "On that, I can ease your burden." He reached into the depths of his cloak and retrieved a small pouch. The girl watched as he opened the little bag, pulled out a bit of what appeared to be dirt, and rubbed it in a circle in the palm of his hand. Then he spit a little into it (at which point, Emery winced in disgust) and turned the dirt to mud. Muttering some words too quiet to make out, Cathbad then slapped both palms together and drew them apart, creating a widening circle in the air with his fingers.

To Emery's amazement, the space between his hands shimmered into a pale, staticy gray and white image, almost like an old television screen, and something was happening in it. Drawing nearer, so her face was mere inches from the fizzling, silent vision, Emery was sure she could make out a picture--yes! There was a person, looking out over what appeared to be the sea. Waves rolled in the distance, and as the image crystallized, the person in it took shape into someone familiar . . .

"Adam!" And it was him, Emery saw. His hair was in strange tight rows atop his head, shaved up around his ear, and some sort of white glimmery fur lining his shoulder ruffled in a wind she couldn't feel, but it was undoubtedly him, looking out across the sea, smiling his charming smile. He was clearly happy. Gasping in joy, Emery reached a hand out, not really thinking about her action. The moment her fingers touched the screen, it crackled into nothing, and suddenly, she was staring at Cathbad, who'd been on the other side of it the whole time. Her elation dimmed, and instead of relief, she felt almost more depressed.

The druid lowered his hands and shook the dirt off of them. "Is your heart at ease, now, Lad--Emery?"

"I--I don't understand--"

"Your visage indicates your troubled mind. Lir is where he is supposed to be. He is safe, and he is happy. Be assured of that."

"But . . . but where is he? We're nowhere near the ocean. Not even near a lake! Will he ever come back?"

Cathbad shook his head and tried to appear sad, though Emery thought he felt more sorry for her than for Adam. "No. But if all goes well, you might see him again."

"What do you mean, if all goes well?"

Tying the little pouch from which he'd gotten the dirt back onto his belt, Cathbad rather distractedly explained, "There is much that I can't tell you; you will understand why, when the time comes." He looked back up at her, having organized himself. "But what I can tell you is now that I am here, I will stay by your side and do all in my power to protect you. There are clandestine forces, Emery, that have placed you in the eye of a nefarious storm. Even prior to this, there were signs indicative of dark workings, and then my Lord got himself wrapped up in--your situation. It's a labyrinthine predicament you've worked yourselves into, but now that I am come, we will work together toward rectification." He grinned, his gray eyes flashing with a hint of mischief. "And when all is back to what it should be, I do hope you will reflect on my aid and forgive any impertinence that I might have shown along the way."

Emery was in a mixed state of shock and exhaustion. She could do little but gaze at this strange person, unable to argue any longer that he was merely some actor in a costume. He'd done crazy magic things, things no normal person could do. She was having difficulty trying to rationalize what she'd just experienced with the real world she'd thought until recently that she lived in. But she liked this man, whoever he actually might be. He seemed to want to help her, and he'd done what no one else had been able to do, which was give her some hint as to where Adam was.

"I don't understand most of what you just said to me," the girl admitted, rubbing the back of her neck wearily. "It's late, and I'm so tired. I need to sleep."

Cathbad gave a little bow of obeisance. "Understood, Emery. If you could just guide me to my station, I will keep guard while you rest."

"Wait." Emery understood. "You want to stay here?"

"As I said."

"But, my parents won't really be too happy if they wake up and a strange guy is in the house."

"Am I so strange, then?"

Emery looked him up and down, and he took the hint.

"My attire is not of this place. Of course. How foolish of me." The druid snapped his fingers and in a poof of sparkling mist, he'd transformed his entire outfit. In place of the tunic and pants and boots, he wore athletic shorts from which his skinny legs extended, a T-shirt with her high school's mascot, and pool shoes. His cloak had disappeared as well. "This is far more airy, to be sure!" he chimed, admiring his new look.

"Those, too." Emery motioned to his earpiece and his necklace and the leather cap on his head, wondering where all his trinkets had gone.

"Yes, yes. Of course." Another snap, and the accessories were gone as well. His hair was still rather matted and unkempt, but Emery decided not to mention it. "Now then," Cathbad continued. "My station?"

Emery frowned in thought. "I don't think you should come in the house. I'm sorry--it's just . . . my parents--"

"I understand entirely. Shall I remain here, then? I am happy to hold vigil in your secluded courtyard."

"Fine. That's fine," Emery nodded, just wanting to go inside and be alone, fall into her meadow dream. "That shed over there--do you see it?"

"Yon small hut?"

"Yes, that. My mom's set it up like a little room. Her she-shed, you know." She sighed. "Things grown people do. Anyway, feel free to take a nap in there, if you get tired. In fact, it might be best if you're in there, so no one wakes up and finds you hanging out back here."

Cathbad looked somewhat put-out. "Doth the Lady--excuse me, Emery--wish that I should hide myself?"

"I doth. Stay there until I come out here, tomorrow morning, all right?"

Without waiting for a response, Emery ascended the stairs and crossed the deck to her back door, which she went through and into her house, sure this would all be a weird dream when she woke in several hours.