"The yew is a holy tree, never dying, always rebirthing itself. While the insides of it decay, it sends down new shoots from above to continue itself, thereby living forever." Cathbad spoke with a sort of blank look on his face. "It's no wonder that this tree was able to ward off Death and hold you safe within its core, and yet--" he looked up at Emery--"you say there was more to this occurrence, some light within the yew?"

"I can't remember very much about it," the girl admitted. They were sitting on the deck, as her parents had gone to a wedding and were staying overnight in a hotel downtown; Emery had the fortune of being on her own, as Deirdre had gone to a friend's house. It was nice to be in the open air to talk, for once. It was late, maybe eleven-thirty, but she'd grabbed some food and drinks and the three of them--she, Cathbad, and Tess--were enjoying themselves quite a bit. The druid would have to return to the warriors at some point; while he'd mentioned that a few of them were intelligent and bent on peace-keeping, if left unattended, some became rowdy. He'd magicked a tankard of ale for them before he'd whisked over to talk to Emery, but it likely wouldn't last long.

"This whole occurrence with Death--I am most relieved that Cearnach was able to help you, though it does seem to me that you placed yourself in danger, Emery, by going so near the woods in the first place. Why the yew favored you is intriguing . . . they do tend to grow near cemeteries, but I doubt very much that, if you were to return to its location, you would find it again. They can be choosy, yews; they come and go as they please. I myself once chased a yew across several miles (they have incredible properties for potions and charms), but whenever I drew close to it, the thing would vanish and repopulate a distance away. They're a particular favorite of the fae folk, which explains much."

He sat back against his deck chair and put his feet up on another next to him, crossed his boots, snatched a Dorito and popped it into his mouth, crunching rather loudly. He'd removed his cloak and placed the heavy weathered thing on the deck railing, revealing his belt full of tools and natural specimens.

"Maybe I was just lucky, then, with the tree. Maybe faeries don't like Death either, and they just wanted to help me out." The thought of faeries seemed ridiculous to Emery, although she wasn't sure why. If she'd been able to accept zombies, why were faeries so much more implausible?

"And when you were in the yew, you say you had a vision, of my Lord Cuchulain?"

Emery sighed, uncomfortable recalling it, but she knew that Cathbad was the only person who could explain it. "I've seen him twice. Once when I was at school, and he had crossed a bridge. The second time was when I was in that tree, and he was killing monsters or something. But Cat, he also seemed to see me. Like, he stopped what he was doing to look at me, and last time he even started to walk to me."

"They aren't dreams, Emery. He can see you." Cathbad's voice lowered, not due to any sort of assumed secrecy but more out of something like reverence. "I am sure I can't explain the exact reason for it, though I would assume it's because of the bond you share. There is . . . something strong at work, which pulls you toward one another."

Reddening, Emery tried to swallow her discontent, but both Cathbad and Tess, who'd been sitting and listening in fascination the whole while, could see her failing.

Tess reached out a hand and placed it on Emery's arm in a gesture of comfort. Then she looked at the druid. "This might seem like an obvious question, but if this curse is real, why did it happen? Who would do this to her? Emery has never done anything to hurt anyone."

"It is an obvious question, Lady, and I assure you it would've been the first thing I'd have told you both if I knew the answer."

Emery lowered her brow. "You don't even know who did this? Or why?" The jury was still out on whether or not she believed the whole curse thing (at least, in the way Cathbad and Cullen claimed it had happened), but this seemed evidence against it. "So how do you even know there is one?"

"Because! Because . . ." Cathbad seemed uncertain how to say what he'd so emphatically begun to say. "I know what it was like, before. And while I do not know who might have done this thing, there is no end of potential enemies of my Lord. When one is as famed and powerful and envied as a man like Cuchulain, he gleans by his mere existence a retinue of those who would wish him ill."

"So this isn't so much about me, then? It's about him? And I just happened to get stuck in his mess?"

The druid's expression was inscrutable, perhaps a mix of consternation and pity. "I--I believe," he said quietly, looking at the deck rather than at Emery, "that he cares deeply for you. And anyone he cares for, yes, is put into harm's way. Lady," Cathbad sat up straight and leaned closer to her, "do not doubt that he knows excruciating guilt for this. It is surely why he goes to such great lengths, is willing to die, in order to break this curse, and it is heartening that you've had these visions of him. Not only do we know he is alive but surely seeing you also gives him the strength to continue."

Emery couldn't listen to any more. She couldn't sort the way she felt about anything Cathbad said of Cullen. "What about Evil, then? The last of the brothers? At least we have the warriors, now, but what will Evil do?"

"I couldn't say. I have never experienced them until they came for you. It seems unlikely that they are part of your curse; why they're here is something I have been striving to ascertain since first learning of their arrival. It was why I eventually had to come myself. If whoever set this into motion wanted you dead or held hostage by the brothers, why bother with such an elaborate dissemblance as this?" He waved his hands as if to indicate the whole world. "Why not just immediately destroy you?"

"To hurt him," Emery blurted, then blushed when she'd realized what she'd said. How or why she'd known to say that, she had no idea.

Thankfully, the druid seemed only to agree with her. "You could very well be right. Perhaps the prolonged experience of watching you forget him--surely he's suffered from it. And the added difficulties of sending him after Gáe Bulg . . ."

"Maybe someone wants him dead." That was Tess, with gravity.

The three of them made eye contact across the table where the food lay. Tess's words had some sort of potency, which Emery found annoying. Had Cathbad really not thought of that already? It seemed so obvious.

"Lord Cuchulain is no common man; he couldn't be killed in some mundane fashion, in a sword fight or brawl. And he is, in spite of what I've said about enemies, well loved by many. To oppose him outright would be beyond foolish. It would only be wise to make his demise appear of his own error or as an act of the Gods."

The druid fell into thought. Emery took the opportunity to turn to Tess. "This is a mess. I don't know what to make of any of it. And I just want to tell you that I'm about to ask him a question that you won't understand, all right?" Tess gave her a perplexed look, but Emery turned directly to Cathbad and said, "How did Adam contact me last night? Is he here, now?" Her heart quickened just thinking of the possibility that her friend had returned; she'd felt it last night and all throughout the day and had waited anxiously to ask the question. How else, she reasoned, could he have contacted her?

Cathbad lifted his eyes but not the rest of his head to look at Emery. "I asked him to do so. I wished you to be present when we arrived."

Emery saw through his evasion. "I didn't ask you why; I asked you how."

The druid pursed his lips. "Lir has power I do not. As omnipotent as I might appear, there is much I cannot do. And while they do not often traffic with mortals such as myself upon request, he owed me a favor for aiding his journey home."

"So . . . he's not here, then? He's still wherever you sent him?"

"That is correct."

Emery exhaled in disappointment. But there was more she didn't understand. "What do you mean by they?"

Cathbad tipped his head side to side as if pondering what exactly to tell her, and Emery grew frustrated, telling him he'd better give it to her straight, or she'd get up and walk into the house. "All right, all right! All is well. Please don't be unruly. It is only that I do not know how much Lir would wish me to discuss such things. He is, of course, a member of the Tuatha Dé. And as I mentioned, they can be very . . . mercurial in nature, which is to be expected. I would hardly deign to interfere in the silly conflicts of humans myself, if I were he."

"What are the Tuatha Dé, Cat?" Emery wasn't going to let him off the hook; she was used to his diverting digressions by now.

Tess interrupted, much to the others' surprise. "They're Gods, right?"

"Yes, Lady Tess!" Cathbad looked about as impressed as a school teacher who'd asked a difficult question to find one of his pupils actually knew it.

Emery rolled her eyes. "Gods?"

"From mythology, Em," Tess said quietly.

Darting a look from Cathbad to Tess back to Cathbad, Emery gaped. "You're serious? Adam is . . . is a god?"

"Have I ever struck you as something other than serious?" the druid stated, a hand pressed against his chest. "If so, I do apologize."

Unsure as to whether Cathbad was being flippant with her, Emery was actually happy to be interrupted when her phone chimed. When she saw who it was, however, she frowned. "You two stay here," she ordered, and Tess and the druid seemed only too happy to do so. Emery rose and went through the house, exited through the front door, and walked down the path toward the street, where a car was parked. Charlie had gotten out of it and was standing against the passenger side door, hands in his pockets, looking casual and handsome. Emery couldn't help but wish things were different, that she could actually allow herself to indulge in her feelings for him. But as it was, everything was just too complicated. She needed time to figure it all out. Maybe he'd be there when she was done with all of it; maybe he wouldn't. She couldn't guess where all of it was headed.

"Hey," was all she could say when she reached Charlie. She stood across from him, tried to figure out what he was thinking. His message had said only Out front. Come talk to me.

"Is my sister here?"

"Yes . . ." Was that why he'd come over?

"Is she staying the night?"

"I don't know. She can if she wants." Couldn't he have messaged her himself? No, he was just trying to make conversation.

Charlie ran a hand through his curls. "Emery, I'm just really confused. Several days ago, it seemed you--you felt something for me. But the more I try to talk to you, the more you're avoiding me. I . . . I don't want to feel like an idiot."

She knew this conversation had to come at some point; she'd just not known how to go about it. At least Charlie had started it. "I do like you. I've liked you for a long time."

"Don't say that unless you actually mean it."

Emery was about to insist that she meant it, because she did, but maybe she just needed to explain. "Look, you know weird stuff has been going on. I'm grateful that you helped with it. But I don't think Tess told you the whole story."

"It's about your stalker, right?"

She was caught off guard. "So you know?"

"I don't know anything; I'm just guessing."

Looking at the ground, Emery crossed her arms, rubbed them as if a little cold. Something about the way he'd said it--stalker--felt wrong. "His name is Cullen."

"Do you have something going with him?"

How could she respond to that? His question was so vague. "I hardly know him. He--he's from the same place as Cearnach, which is . . . I don't really know where. But ever since Cullen started showing up, these crazy things have been happening."

"It seems more like he's creating problems for you."

"Well, he's gone, now. After that night at the game, he got sent away. I was so mad, for what he'd done to you."

A smile at last played at Charlie's lips. Maybe he'd seen her words as a sign of hope. "So, what's the problem, then? These weird things are going on, but can't I help you through them? If this guy is finally gone, that seems like a good sign--"

"He'll be back. I'm sure of it." And yet, she couldn't be sure of it.

"But still, if he's gone--"

"He says I'm his wife, Charlie." Emery had said it without really thinking, knowing that she'd have to tell him, knowing there was no right moment to say it, knowing how absolutely insane it sounded, and yet knowing, too, that she couldn't keep letting him think they could go anywhere, at the moment.

Charlie stared at her, probably in shock, and then he laughed. He just straight laughed. Emery couldn't blame him. It was the weirdest thing she'd ever had to admit. She felt stupid even for saying the words out loud.

"You don't believe him, do you?" Charlie at last managed to say.

Emery's lack of response sobered him, and he stood up a little straighter.

"Em, you . . . you can't possibly believe him."

How idiotic she must look to him, and yet she didn't know any other way than to be honest; Tess wouldn't have wanted her to lie to Charlie, and Emery didn't want to lie, either. "I know it sounds crazy. I don't think I believe him." She shook her head, frustrated. "I've been so confused about it all. They think there's some sort of curse that made me forget everything, even though I can't figure out how I could possibly be so--so close to someone without knowing it." Her voice, which had been rising, dropped substantially. "But the truth is that Cullen is absolutely certain of it, and that's why he got so, so mad when we were at the game, and we were about to . . ." Unable to look at Charlie, she turned away. "I definitely don't feel anything for him, but . . . I have to figure this out, first." She hoped he understood.

"All right," Charlie responded after a moment of studying her, and she figured he was going to tell her good luck and goodbye. But instead, he said, "Then let's figure it out."

Glowing, grateful for his patience, Emery told Charlie to come meet the druid, and she led him around the house and to the backyard, wondering in the back of her thoughts whether she actually had lied to him, whether she was lying to herself, as well.