Chapter 5

Jessie had been given Saturday off so she could go into town and explore on her own. It had taken Rick almost half an hour to convince Reena that it was time to let Jessie go, but Jessie didn't care as long as she got to go.

Walking briskly down the driveway, Jessie felt free for the first time in a long time. The Money Pit wasn't just draining her parents' savings, it seemed to deplete her energy as well. She had found herself falling asleep every night well before midnight, weird for someone who prided herself on being such a night owl. There were nights when she could barely lift her arms over her head, they were so sore from painting.

A part of her was glad she was so tired because she had stopped having that bizarre dream about the woman being chased by a Roman soldier. At last count, she'd had that same dream eight times in the last month and it was beginning to bother her.

Daniel had come to her room once more after the first night, and had sat at the end of her bed for a very long time before finally whispering, "Can't you hear it?"

Jessie sat up and listened. "Uh-uh. What is it you hear?"

"Something. I...I'm not really sure."

"How about if I come into your room?"

Daniel nodded eagerly. "Would you?"

Jessie slipped out of bed and slid her feet into the Ugg slippers Wendy and Jennifer had given her for her sixteenth birthday. "Let's see what we can find out."

Daniel led the way to a room that was typical of just about any boy. It was filled with car and rocket models, sci-fi posters, tennis shoes, scooters, roller blades, a skateboard, a baseball glove, and a lava lamp she'd given him last Christmas just to piss off her mother. Reena was a pyrophobe, and she was sure that lava lamp was going to be the death of them all. It had been Daniel's favorite gift.

His bed linen was the X-Men, and a huge poster of Cyclops hung over his bed. Because his room was the farthest from the main area of the house, he was able to escape the Victorian designs throughout the rest of the house. For that, Jessie was glad. No little boy should be forced to live in a room that looked like Martha Stewart lived there.

"Just sit on the bed and listen for a few minutes. You'll hear them pretty soon. They're not shy."

Jessie sat on Storm, of the X-Men, and cocked her head to listen. It didn't take long.

"You do hear it, don't you?" Daniel whispered. "They don't come out every night, but they're here a lot."

Jessie nodded, trying to figure out a way to explain to Daniel the sounds he was hearing. "Uh...Daniel, I think..." Then Jessie realized that it was the shape of his ceiling that enabled the sound to carry directly into his room. "I think, if we move your bed over here, the noises from the house wouldn't be funneled into your room so easily. See the shape of your ceiling? It acts like a conduit, and you're hearing...well...everything that's going on inside the bedrooms." Jessie hoped Daniel's intellectual prowess was kicking in. "Do you follow me?"

A light went on in his young eyes and his frown melted away. "Oh. That." he wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Them."

"Yeah. That. Them." Jessie nodded and plodded off to bed.

She laughed to herself as she made her way down the hill toward Del's for a cup of coffee and a roll.

"Well, hello again," Del said cheerfully. "Becoming a regular, are you?" He poured coffee for her in a faded green mug that read Save Opal Creek.

Taking her coffee and sipping it, Jessie sighed. "That's great coffee, Del."

Del plucked a cinnamon roll and heated it for a second before taking it over to Jessie. "Lotta great things here, Jessie. Get to know New Haven on its own terms, and you might just find yourself liking it here."

Nodding, Jessie bit into the cinnamon roll she hadn't ordered but was glad about. "Can't get rolls this good in the city, that's for sure."

Del grinned. "Exactly. See? Every place has things that are special just unto it. Find those things and you'll be pleasantly surprised." Returning to his place behind the counter, Del left Jessie staring out the window at the nearly empty streets.

Everything here moved so much slower than in the Bay Area. When she and Reena had first gone to the store, the clerk actually chatted with them as if she was truly interested in what they had to say.

Yes, they were the owners of the inn. No, it wasn't ready. Yes, the project was coming along as planned. No, they weren't hiring. Yes, they were enjoying the coast. And on it went.

Jessie couldn't believe it, and was surprised at how Reena just answered the questions patiently. Jessie wanted to pull the woman's hair out. Back home, the clerks rang you up, grunted the amount, handed your money back and sent you on your way. No idle chit-chat, not even a pretense of niceness in any store she frequented. Everyone was too busy, too important, or too self-involved to participate in idle blather.

This place was different, and Del was right...comparing was the surest way to alienate herself from the people here. People walked slower, drove slower, and even ate slower. Time was different.

Different. Jessie sipped her coffee, remembering what one of her favorite therapists had said to her: Different isn't better or worse. It's just different.

Watching the small town slowly come to life, Jessie couldn't take her eyes off the palm reader's sign. How had she known what was in Jessie's journal? Maybe it was just a coincidence. After all, wouldn't any high school kid feel like they were in hell if they'd just moved?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Still, something about that sign kept drawing Jessie's eyes back to it. What would it hurt to poke her head inside the shop? How crazy could Madame Ceara really be if she was able to keep up a place of business?

Del emerged from behind the counter with a fresh pot of coffee.

"Del, is Tanner really as big a trouble-maker as you made him out to be?" Jessie asked, surprising herself. She hadn't even been thinking about him.

"Tanner? Nah, he's an okay kid. His friends are kind of creepy, and they're mostly banned from the shops and stores, but Tanner's harmless. Truth is, he's a pretty smart kid, well-traveled, good manners, nice parents. The problem is, there isn't much for him to do here, so he hangs out with the likes of Brad and Randy, who are punks."

Jessie nodded slightly. "Then, you wouldn't warn me off him?"

Del leaned against the counter, the pot of coffee still in his hand. "I thought I did that already." He chuckled. "I'd take Tanner any day to the likes of Brad and Randy and some of them other boys in town. You get to know Tanner, you'll know what I mean. There's more to him than meets the eye." Del started back around the counter.

"And what about Madame Ceara?"

"I suppose those idiots told you she was crazy."

Jessie looked away.

"Depends on your definition, I guess. Most folks would say it's plum crazy pouring good money into that inn of yours."

"Let me put it another way. Do you think she's crazy?"

Del shook his head. "Ceara's been here longer than anyone can remember and has always worked that shop. Crazy is all about perception, don't you think? Like perceiving Tanner as a bad kid because he has a piercing and a leather jacket. I'd say the people doing the judging were the crazy ones."

Jessie looked up at Del and watched him clean the counters. Who'd have thought that the local coffee shop owner was a sage in disguise? "I appreciate it, Del, thanks." Jessie half-finished her second cup of coffee, set a dollar on the table and started for the door. Oregon, it was turning out, was a strange place with really nice people. If she wasn't careful, she could actually find something to like about the place.

Walking down the street, deeply inhaling the salt air, Jessie smiled. There was something freeing about the ocean air, the clanging of bells, and the sounds of the sails flapping against their masts. The fog was thinning enough to allow rays to poke through, and the morning just seemed to get better and better.

This small village didn't have much, but the sea-faring facades were recent additions and were quite quaint, done in royal blue trim with white stucco. Someone had sunk a lot of money into the Main Street shops, she guessed, in order to better attract the tourist dollar.

Strolling down the sidewalk, Jessie noted the different shops. A seafood restaurant she could never afford, a five-and-dime filled with all the things beach combers might want, an art studio with paintings of every sort of sea creature imaginable, an antique shop, a jewelry store, Annie's Ice Cream, and Madame Ceara's.

Jessie hadn't realized it, but she had stopped right under the sign and was staring at the front door. "Damn." Quickly turning around, she waited for the cars to pass so she could cross the street. How in the hell had she ended up here? She'd meant to cross the street earlier, but somehow hadn't managed to do so.

"Nothing really is a coincidence," came a voice from behind her.

Jessie turned slowly and found herself face to face with those ice blue eyes that impaled her. "Oh-I-uh-"

Madame Ceara lifted an eyebrow. "You ended up here because here is where you're supposed to be."

A chill ran down Jessie's forearms. "Is this how you get new clients?"

Madame Ceara grinned, revealing nearly perfect teeth. "It is good to have courage. You are a very brave young woman, and that is good because you are going to need it where you're going."

"The only place I'm going is home to California." Jessie checked the street again, but a sudden influx of cars surged through the green light.

"Perhaps, but then, that's the beauty of the future. We never really know what it holds for us until it becomes the present. By then, our plans have changed."

Jessie smiled politely, deciding that getting hit by a car was preferable to talking to this woman who she felt had just surgically removed Jessie's soul and was studying it under a microscope.

"Look, Madame-"

Madame Ceara peered closely into Jessie's eyes and then nodded. "You are not alone."

"What are you-"

Madame Ceara held up a heavily braceletted arm that jangled noisily, essentially chopping off Jessie's words. "Trust your own eyes, Jessie. You saw what you saw. Believe in yourself. It just might save her life." Turning so abruptly that her scarves made a swooshing sound, Madame Ceara went back into her shop, leaving Jessie with words still stuck like peanut butter to the roof of her mouth.

By the time she recovered her wits, a customer had followed Madame Ceara into her shop, and the cars miraculously vanished so Jessie could make her way hastily across the street.

Her? Who on earth was she talking about?

"She could not possibly know," Jessie whispered, as she pretended to look at the jewelry in the shop across from the palm reader's shop. That was twice now that the woman had spoken about something Jessie had been thinking or writing.

Was she trying to make a point? Trying to scare her? Maybe it was all like a horoscope, where one size fits all. Say something generic, like a fortune cookie that says, "Something good will happen to you today," and it would fit 99% of the population.

Still...Madame had been so exact the first time and damn near in her mind this time. What did she want? Suddenly, she felt like going back to the inn. This little berg had more nuts than a Planter's mixed can, and flannel or no flannel, it was beginning to appear as if New Haven, Oregon was a tad bit more bizarre than she'd first thought.

Half an hour later, Jessie started back up the stairs of the inn and found a note taped to the banister. The three of them had gone into town to rent a movie and get a pizza.

Jessie grabbed the three keys off the hook and started up the stairs. Had Madame Ceara been talking about the door that was there and then wasn't? The whole thing felt spooky, and Jessie wanted to put an end to it right here.

She slowly retraced the steps that had led to her seeing the numberless door the first time, she opened each of the bedroom doors, and, when she got to the storeroom, there it was! The numberless door! Gazing down at the key in her hand, Jessie felt her palms get all clammy and sweaty. The door did exist! So how come it had vanished, and now reappeared?

The whole thing made her stomach lurch and bubble, so she opened the store room door, set the keys on the shelf, and grabbed a second pack of rollers, just like the ones she had tossed her father. Inhaling deeply, she took three long strides out of the storeroom and turned to the wall.

The door was gone.

"Oh crap," Jessie said, leaning against the banister. Her stomach jumped and she felt bile trying to rise in her throat. She wasn't stoned and she wasn't crazy, so what in the hell was going on here? For a moment, she considered running out of the house and down to Madame Ceara's, but then she remembered the old woman's words. She needed courage. She needed to do something she hadn't done in a long time: she needed to believe in herself. She needed to be brave. She knew what she'd seen. She could not doubt herself.

Jessie retrieved the solitary key, then dropped the package of rollers back on the shelf before turning the skeleton key over in her hand. It felt warm, and by the looks of it, appeared to be the original that came with the house. Very little wear on the teeth, and no grooves on it from overuse. No metal-on-metal cuts that her house keys had from ill-fitting keys in California. Maybe this wasn't even the right key. Maybe, when she went back, the door would be gone again, as if the house were playing some sort of game with her. Maybe the voices Daniel kept hearing were really there. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Can't cook with maybes.

Exhaling loudly, gripping the old key as if it, too, might disappear, Jessie stepped outside the storeroom and faced the numberless door.

"It's there," she whispered, taking a step toward the door. The key seemed to be growing warmer in her hand, but that was impossible. A glowing key? Hell, at this point, anything seemed possible.

Turning the key over in the palm of her hand, Jessie felt a rush of adrenaline sweep over her. Her scalp tingled, the bottom of her feet itched, and a cold chill ran up and down her spine. Trying not to be afraid, she decided she had nothing to lose at this point and plunged the key into the lock.

It could have been anything, really: an empty store room, an unused bedroom, an old water closet that had been boarded up, or even a clothes closet. Jessie could have accepted any of those. She could have even accepted something as out-there as a treasure room or attic that hid some heinous crime of the eighteenth century.

But to open the third-story door to find an oak grove doused in the light glow of dusk made Jessie question her grasp of reality. Her mind screamed at her feet to turn and run and forget that she had ever seen the door, but her heart kept her rooted there, like Madame's stare. She was afraid to move, afraid not to.

"Alrighty then," she said softly, taking a step into the room/forest, for it was, indeed, the forest floor her feet touched. Turning to look back, to make sure that the hallway remained a hallway, Jessie felt surprised at the peace washing over her. Yes, the hallway was right there, but what would happen if her parents returned home and saw...saw what? Could they see this as well? Did they need the key in order to open the door? For that matter, would the door even be there?

Reaching out, as if she were no longer in her own body, Jessie closed the door behind her. She looked down at herself and realized she wore a white robe-familiar white robe. Her robe. But how could that be? She owned a bathrobe, but not the kind she wore now. This robe, her robe, had a hood, and it fit her perfectly.

Glancing up, she realized she also knew where she stood. This was the edge of McFarlane's property, where the ancient oak trees had managed to escape the saws of the intruders. Yes, this was McFarlane's land, as surely her robe was the priestess robe she had donned years before. Funny, but for a moment there, she thought...what had she thought? What had she come to the edge of the forest to do?

Peering into the distance, she noticed fires burning brightly. McFarlane did not mind the others on his land as long as he knew they were there to preserve, not destroy it. She remembered that much-but why had she forgotten it for a moment?

Shaking her head, she followed the firelight through the trees walking upon the soft moss that lay like a carpet beneath her feet. Of course! Now she remembered! A ritual was being performed, and she had left it to-to what? Odd, how she had seemed confused, as if the spirits and sprites had been playing tricks on her. Walking through the dense forest, Cate inwardly smiled. She knew every inch of McFarlane's grove even when darkness was beginning to fall and the dryads were out playing pranks on the unsuspecting. The great oaks, a symbol of her strength, nay, her very strength itself, towered above her protecting her like a blanket. She loved these woods; loved how alive she felt whenever she was within them.

As Cate slipped through the forest, she could see the orange and yellow blaze of the bonfire as it burned higher and higher. All around the fire were Druid priests and priestesses like her, wearing the white robes and chanting the hymns and prayers intended to see the quester safely home. When she emerged from the forest, all of the Druids turned to stare at her.

"Hold your questions," came a familiar voice that caused Cate to turn. The voice belonged to Maeve, her dearest friend and head priestess. Maeve strode over to Cate as if she were floating on the wind. When she stopped, she smiled softly, her gray eyes filled with deep concern. "Are you all right, Catie?" Maeve whispered, a catch in her throat. "You look...unlike yourself."

Cate looked up at her much taller friend and nodded. Something had happened, but she couldn't quite remember what. Was this ritual for her?

Maeve pulled a torch from the ground and held it close to Cate's face so she could see her better. "You do not remember, do you?"

Cate frowned, then glanced over Maeve's shoulder at the dozen or so other Druids who waited for her to speak. Cate shook her head. "I do not."

Maeve turned and handed the torch to another priest, who wordlessly took it and stepped back. Stepping forward, Maeve wrapped her arms around Cate, crushing her to her chest. "It is all right," she whispered, still clutching Cate. "As long as you are returned safely, that is all that matters."

Cate pulled away and peered into those wise, gray eyes that had seen so much and taught her even more in their years together as priestesses of the Art. But for the life of her, Cate could not remember why Maeve would be so desperately relieved to see her.

"Returned? Have I been gone?"

A much taller Druid, perhaps by two hands, strode out of the darkness. In his left hand was a large carved stick with the Ogham letters notched neatly onto the handle.

Maeve stepped away to allow the priest closer access to Cate. "She does not remember the quest, Lachlan."

Lachlan towered over Cate, his clear blue eyes blazing as he studied her.

She could not remember a time when she had been able to discern the color of his eyes; so often they had seemed colorless one minute, and fiery orange the next. But right now, they were a clear, light blue, and they were doing more than looking at her-they were probing her.

"Do you not remember, Cate?"

Cate wanted to please them. She had always wanted to please them, so she closed her eyes and opened her mind, listening to the crackling of the fire, the leaves as they rubbed against each other on the trees, and the breathing of the two people she loved most in the world.

Remember...remember...The only thing she could see were two crystal blue eyes telling her to remember. What memories did everyone want her to remember? And why could she not?

Remembering was most of the Initiate's task during the first ten years of Druidic training. Over twenty-thousand verses were to be memorized: stories, poems, verses, myths, folklore, and prayers. Remembering was of utmost importance to the Druids, for they passed the histories down from generation to generation. And now, it appeared that everyone wanted her to remember-but what was it? Cate sighed in frustration. "I am sorry, Lachlan, but I do not know what it is you want me to remember."

Lachlan abruptly turned from her and spoke directly to Maeve. "What good does this do us if she cannot even remember why we sent her?"

"Give her time," Maeve cooed, soft yet commanding.

"We do not have the luxury of time! Our destruction is imminent. I thought you said she was the best we have."

Maeve glanced over at Cate. "Lachlan, you know Cate is exceptional. Please, give her some time to recall. What we have asked her to do is not something we can take for granted or bend to our will. It is the first time we have sent her through. It will get easier each time. Be patient." Maeve reached out and lightly touched Lachlan's broad shoulders.

For a Druid priest, he was incredibly fit and strong. Broad shoulders melted into a tapered waist that even the folds of robes couldn't disguise. Beneath the hood lay a shock of curly black hair that hung to his shoulders when not under the hood, which was seldom, since he always had it up to acknowledge when he was working. His body was lean because of the little food he fed himself, but it wasn't just his physical prowess that made people watch him as he walked by; it was his carriage. Lachlan had a royal gait and blue eyes that mesmerized everyone who looked at him. He was well-liked and well-respected in the village of Fennel, and was known throughout the lands of the Iceni and Ordovices. The Silures were his people, and they were fiercely devoted to him and Maeve, deferring to him on almost every communal issue.

So it would have been strange if any of the villagers had witnessed Maeve touching the priest, especially when his hood was up, but Maeve, they all knew, was different.

"I need not remind you how precious every passing moment is, Maeve. If she cannot remember, there are others we can prepare for the journey. Perhaps Angus or Shamus will find what we need, what we must know to survive."

Maeve bowed her head, her hood slipping forward to completely cover her face. "Thank you, Lachlan, but I believe in Catie's abilities. You have twice seen her use her sight, and you know that her powers get stronger every day. She can and will get us what we need. You must have patience."

Cate could stand it no longer. "Maeve, what is going on? Have I done something?"

"Shh. Come with me." Maeve began to retrace Cate's steps back into the woods, her arm around her waist.

When they finally reached the three massive oak trees exactly twelve feet apart and in a perfect triangle, they stopped. Cate felt the change in energy. The air suddenly came to life, crackling and spitting, as if energized by some unseen force.

"Do you remember walking through these oaks, Catie?"

Cate looked at the triangle and tried to recall the ritual that had Lachlan throwing a fiery liquid at her prior to sending her into these woods. Lachlan had studied to be a master of alchemy, but Cate could not remember what it was that he had sprinkled on her.

"I remember Lachlan preparing me for...a quest of some sort. It is all so very foggy." Cate's head felt heavy. "I am so sorry if I have disappointed you."

Maeve nodded and rubbed Cate's back. "You never disappoint me, Catie."

"He sent me to the woods to enter the Forbidden Forest so that I could-" Cate thought hard, seeing these icy blue eyes boring into her brain. They weren't just staring at her; they were trying to communicate something to her. "So that...so that I could gather the information needed in order to save us. Yes! That is it."

"Yes." Maeve hugged Cate tightly. "I knew you could do it, Catie."

Cate shook her head, and her hood came off, revealing her bright red hair. "Three of us went to find out how to keep the Romans from destroying us. Angus, Shamus, and I went through the Sacred Place in the Forbidden Forest hoping to find out..." Cate wrestled with her memories.

Maeve swallowed hard. "Find out what?"

Cate sighed. "How to save ourselves from the destruction that is approaching."

"And? What is that destructive power?" Maeve pressed closer, her breath smelling of the mint leaves she so often chewed.

Cate started to pace. "The Romans-Angus saw them coming-crushing us-chasing us, burning and raping us. Shamus saw them utterly destroying all that we know, all that we've built, all that is important to us. So, Lachlan sent three of us through the Sacred Place hoping our spirits would travel ahead."

"Because?"

Cate stopped pacing. "Because of our belief in time."

Maeve nodded. "Tell me, Catie. What have you learned about time?"

"Lachlan says-"

"No, Catie, what do you think? You are the one going forward in time. What did you learn about time and our plan to use it to save us?"

Cate inhaled deeply and gazed at the triangle of the Sacred Place. The oak trees were so old, it took five Druids holding hands to be able to encircle one trunk. Mistletoe hung in enormous bunches from the tallest point, and the cracks in the thick bark were deep crevasses-home to other creatures.

Moving her hand over the rough bark, she still felt the memories from her trip lingering in the back of her mind. It was frustrating not to be able to recall it wholly. "Time does not exist on a single plane. Multiple times occur at the same moment. My soul was transported into the future so I might be able to gather enough information and historical data to save us from being crushed under the heel of the Romans."

Maeve smiled proudly. "Excellent. Then you remember much of what you were taught."

Cate nodded. "I remember well who I am. I am having a very hard time remembering where I went and who I was once I got there. It is terribly frustrating."

"I can imagine, but it will come, my love. It will be here soon enough."

"But I do know my soul went somewhere strange and quite foreign."

"Your eternal soul went to you in another time-a time we know little about."

Cate shook her head, suddenly feeling the same tingling as when she'd first stepped into the center of the triangle. "But Lachlan is right, Maeve. We do not have time. I must remember what I experienced. My soul had been transported, indeed, as Lachlan and others before him professed. It is all true. The soul comes and goes-it lives on beyond the body."

"Do you mean-"

Cate nodded. "I was someone else. It is as we have always thought. The soul does not die."

"Others have tried what you did Catie, but few returned. There are stories, of course, but no one in our life has successfully gone through and returned. Lachlan will be so thrilled."

"Lachlan will, aye, but what of you, my love? What happens now?"

"Now," Maeve said softly, removing her robe over the top of her head. "We rinse that place and time off of you so that you fully return to me. You must always return to me, my dearest one."

Cate removed her robe as well and folded it on top of Maeve's on a round boulder growing a soft coat of deep green moss before following Maeve's to the river's edge. "You seem...apprehensive."

Walking waist deep into the water, Maeve turned and held her arms out to Cate. "I have worried about you since the moment we met. I will worry for you until the day I die."

Cate stepped into the water, amazed that it was so warm...but then...she knew Maeve had used some spell in order to make it more inviting and less frigid. "I wish not to worry you, but it does appear that I may be the only one who can come and go through the portal." Cate stepped into Maeve's embrace and smiled softly as Maeve's heavy breasts pressed gently against her own smaller ones. She had always loved feeling Maeve's body against hers, but in the water, when her breasts floated like a lily pad and the water was a blanket of warmth over her body was when Cate loved it the most.

"Indeed." Turned Cate around, Maeve produced a special washing rock she Lachlan had procured for them long ago. It had hundreds of small openings and was rough enough to remove the grime of a day's ride and soft enough to bring chills to Cate's arms.

As Maeve's arms wrapped around Cate's waist, Cate pulled them tighter around her, bending her head to allow Maeve the full exposure of her neck. "You always make me feel like I am the only person in the woods."

Maeve bent down and lightly kissed Cate's soft, white neck. "To me, my love, you are the only person my heart shall ever love."

Turning in her embrace, Cate threaded her arms around Maeve's neck and gently kissed her, her tongue softly outlining Maeve's full lips. When Cate had first kissed Maeve, she thought she could kiss those lips for the rest of her life and beyond. They were the most amazing things Cate had ever gazed upon and even more wonderful pressed up against her own.

Slowly walked them back to shore, Maeve held Cate's face in her hands and kissed her deeply, their tongues entwining as their mouths made their own kind of love.

Without a word, Cate backed all the way up to the round boulder their clothes lay on and hoisted herself on it. Maeve stood between Cate's legs just staring down at her wet, naked body. The sounds of the forest were slightly muted as Maeve trailed a finger from Cate's heart to her navel, pausing for the briefest of moments, to lean over and kiss one of the wet nipples which had puckered from the slight breeze wafting through the air. "You have the most beautiful body, my love. When the Goddesses created you, they had me in mind."

Cate smiled and sighed as she raised up on her elbows. "You have always loved me so well. So completely. I cannot imagine my life without you. In this life or any other."

Maeve placed a finger on Cate's mouth. "Shh. Do not speak thusly, my love. We shall always find each other. We shall always be together. There is no life in which you and I do not reconnect. You have my word on that truth."

Cate took Maeve's finger in her mouth and sucked it slowly, sensuously. When she finally pulled Maeve's hand away, she carefully placed it on her wet mound and lifted her hips. "And do I have your word we will always do this?" Taking Maeve's fingers, Cate slid two of them into her soft warmth, raising her hips as she did.

"Catie..." Maeve's next words caught in her throat as she pushed her fingers deeper into her lover.

"Show me," Cate whispered huskily. "Show me so that I always remember this no matter where we are or when we are."

Maeve took one of Cate's nipples in her mouth and ran her tongue around and around it. It stood more erect with each passing, making Cate moan and lift her hips so Maeve could go deeper.

As Cate blossomed open, Maeve pushed even deeper and then slowly pulled her fingers until they were nearly out. "You are now and shall always be mine," Maeve whispered, pushing her fingers more assertively into her love. "Neither time nor distance shall ever keep us apart." Slowly moving her fingers in and out of Cate, Maeve moved her mouth to the other nipple and sucked on it harder as Cate's moans heightened.

"By the Goddesses,' Cate uttered, turning her head to the side. "The things you do to me..."

"Are done out of love and desire, my sweet one. Do you now yet know how I look upon you with lust in my veins? How tucking a stray hair over your ear drives me mad? Have you not yet figured out that you swim in my veins and cause fire in my loins?"

Cate rolled her head back over and looked into Maeve's eyes. "What will sate you, then, my love? Whatever I have is yours."

Maeve stared hard into Cate's eyes, her fingers deftly working their way in and out of Cate's heat and wetness. "You are much wetter than usual."

"And you are far more aggressive than normal. What is it you need, Maeve? Because you know you can take whatever it is I have. I am yours. All yours."

Maeve stared a long time, her fingers working their way, until, at long last, she broke the gaze and laid her body across Cate's. working her fingers as her lips kissed Cate's neck, shoulders, upper breasts, where she paused to suckle both nipples before continuing kissing her stomach. When Maeve was directly between Cate's legs, she pushed her fingers slowly in while lowering her mouth to the hard nob she knew where to find every single time.

This was not their first time nor the first life they'd been lovers.

Arching her back, Cate closed her eyes and shuddered as Maeve's mouth and tongue expertly glided over her wetness, stopping to tease, to lick, to suck the throbbing center of her being. Nothing had ever felt better or more passionate than when Maeve took her with her mouth.

Raising her hips higher, Cate felt the rumblings of their passion begin at the bottom of her feel, curling her toes before slowly making its way through her heated warmth. "Oh Goddess," Cate mumbled as she bit the heel of her hand.

"She cannot help you, my little love. Release yourself to me, Catie. Give me all of you now and forever."

Cate's entire body shuddered as the orgasm enveloped her, taking her to places she had only been with Maeve. As wave after wave coursed through her, she could feel Maeve's fingers touch her in a place so mysterious, so wonderful, so defining, Cate growled like an animal in her release. "Holy Goddess..." Cate cried out when her entire body went rigid, her muscles contracting around Maeve's finger. "Are you trying to kill me?"

Maeve slowly removed her fingers and lightly ran her tongue over them before climbing on top of Cate's body. "Not at all...I just wanted to make certain you will always remember where you belong."

"With you, Maeve. Always with you."

Maeve walked with her arm around Cate's waist as they slowly made their way back to the middle of the grove.

Lachlan met them half way back. "Well?"

Maeve kept Cate close to her side. "She is beginning to have vague remembrances, Lachlan, but nothing definitive yet."

Lachlan waited.

Cate knew he'd never been a patient man, but he also knew enough not to press Cate, for fear of Maeve's disapproval.

Cate inhaled deeply. She was so tired and her head pounded. "My spirit did, indeed, travel far into the future, but there, I remember nothing of who I am or what my purpose might be. I have no memory of this past-aye, no knowledge of it, either."

"Then how could you know?"

"Because...deep down, I was within the shell of the being that now has my soul, but that being...she has no concept of time, of history, of the past, of anything. What little she knows is unclear. I think that is the reason my head aches. She lives in a haze."

Maeve nodded. "You have a different purpose in the future realm, Catie. The being which houses your soul knows not the import of listening to herself and realizing that the voice she hears is real. She has forgotten who she was. Lachlan believes this is common. The soul is not the mind and remembers quite differently."

Cate shrugged. "I do not know what she thinks or feels, Maeve, only that I do not know yet how to master my movement into her. I felt so lost. It felt so very...odd. I existed as if I were only able to watch this young woman live her life. I...shared the body with my spirit, which has lived well over three thousand years."

Maeve's hand covered her mouth in awe. "Three thousand...can that be?"

Cate shrugged. "I can only guess at this point, but she is far far into the future. I was there hiding, as it were, trying to juggle her memory of who we once were. Her spirit did not hear. Her spirit hears little beyond its own thoughts. It is sad, really, how disconnected she is from herself."

"But that spirit is you," Lachlan said softly. "You did it, Cate. You went into the future and came back. You have done what no other has."

"But Lachlan, it was a failure. Just as she cannot recall any of this past, nor can I, mine. It appears that the spirit chooses to live in the moment, guided by the body and time it inhabits, but brings nothing of a memory with it into its new life. Parts of my soul may come out from time to time, but it is not I. Not anymore."

Maeve looked down at Cate. "But that does not mean that those memories are not there, Cate. It means they are weaker in color, in shape, in form, because there is no body, no senses to remind it of what once was. If you can manage to push your memories through to the being you are in the future, then we can turn this into a success. Catie must return and keep returning until she has opened a door through which to share her memories of this life. The more she is there, the more easily she might be able to help the future Cate remember."

Lachlan gazed off into the distance. An owl screeched as it left its nest in search of food. "It is a possibility I can consider, Maeve, but not without a great deal of thought. I do not know what could happen-"

"We know what the Romans have in mind for us," Maeve said, cutting him off. "If we are to save any lives at all, then we must give this a chance. One time through was only an investigative quest, Lachlan. If Cate believes she can manage to break through, then I think we need to give it more time."

"Maeve-"

"Time, Lachlan, it is-"

"I wish to return." Cate's announcement seemed to catch them both off-guard. "I was not prepared for how I would feel, or the oppression I encountered by a soul that, while my own, is vastly different from the one I currently have. I would appreciate another chance. I have abilities the others do not possess, Lachlan. I can go where others cannot. If our people, nay, if our very existence is threatened with extermination, and my powers can be used to keep that from happening, I have an obligation to use them. I wish to."

Lachlan laid his hand on her shoulder. "Very well then. But not tonight. Tonight, you rest, and let Maeve care for you." Turning on his heel, he left Maeve to watch over Cate.

"It is not as Herodotus believed, Maeve," Cate said, walking slowly back to Fennel. A slight mist wafted through the air as they walked down the verdant hills. "The portal allows us to move to a place and time not of ours, which means that multiple times do, in fact, exist at once."

Maeve smiled. "Not us, Catie-you."

Cate sighed. "Indeed. Not everyone can go through, as we have known for quite some time. But I have the sight. I saw the young woman, as clearly as I have seen you in my dreams. My sight has somehow allowed me to venture out--as has Angus's and Shamus's."

"We have not heard from them. Lachlan fears the worst."

Cate felt chills run down her arms. "They have the sight as well. I am sure they will be fine, but Maeve, the idea of multiple times may not be the truth. It is possible that the portal sends me forward, that time could still be linear, but there are rifts that allow us to move along it. I will not truly know unless you send me back."

Maeve stared at Cate through the rays of moonlight cascading down on her face.

"The young woman before me is different than the one who walked away from me in order to travel to that part of the forest where people have gone and seldom returned. Everyone in Fennel, as well as in every other village on the east of the isle, knows about the Forbidden Forest and what usually happens to people who are foolish enough to venture into it. Many expect it to be haunted with restless shadows; still, others think it is purely evil."

Maeve tightened her robe around her. "Only the Silures know that the Forbidden Forest contains the Sacred Place, and only the Silurian Druids are brave enough to face it. You, my sweet girl, are the bravest of us all."

Cate had been brave. She had had the sight, gone through the portal, and returned unharmed. Changed, yes, but unharmed, nonetheless. Maeve could tell by the look in Cate's eye that she had left here an energetic young lady and returned a weary, if not wary, traveler. Cate may not have remembered what she saw, but it clung to her like the forest mist, becoming a part of who she was now, in this moment.

"Catie, are you feeling all right?"

Cate pinched the bridge of her nose, tears threatening to escape her closed eyelids. "It's just...when I first returned, I...I did not even know who I was. I looked down at my robe, and I knew I wore my robe, but I did not know who I was yet. Very disconcerting."

Maeve reached out and gently pushed her hood back, revealing Cate's long red hair. "Perhaps that is the very thing that will save us, Catie. Perhaps when you struggle as you return, that is because you are bringing memories of the future with you; memories we must access to know which way we must turn to save ourselves."

Cate blew out a breath before allowing two small tears to form and drop. "It was trying, Maeve, and I am so very tired. I understand how important remembering is, but once I crossed over, I became a young woman much molded by an environment that is more foreign to me than the Land of Chin."

Maeve brushed the tears away with the sleeve of her robe. "I cannot even imagine what that must have felt like, but please, go on."

"Who I am there is shaped by events I know nothing of. Even now, as I try to remember, it feels like trying to remember a hazy dream."

Maeve nodded. "The past feels like memories because those events are stamped upon our spirits, but the future is dreamlike because we cannot envision those revelations that time enables us to have. Can you remember any of the dream?"

As they walked, Cate stopped and suddenly leaned against one of her favorite trees, drawing strength from it. "I am exhausted, Maeve."

"I understand, sweet one. You need not work so hard. Do not let Lachlan's haste burden you."

Cate nodded. "I know it's important-I shall try. I remember ice blue eyes...and the feeling that I was so horribly out of balance, uninvolved, alone, and-this is strange-I was even saddened by something. She is very alone and sad for it."

Maeve sat next to Cate and stroked the side of her head. "Continue, please."

"I remember a curiosity about something, and a willingness to face a fear, though I do not know what fear it was." Cate sighed. "That is all I have." She closed her eyes.

Putting her arm around Cate to let her rest, Maeve whispered, "You are very brave, not only to go, but to wish to go back. You are but three and twenty, yet you are so wise and so courageous. I envy you that courage."

Cate rested her head against Maeve's shoulder. "She's...younger," Cate said softly. "And...not very wise." Then she whispered something softly.

Maeve leaned closer to hear Cate's last words before she fell to sleep. "What was that, my love?"

"Only wisdom can save us now."