There are some real places in this story (obviously), including the Castle Golf Club in Dublin. While I’m sure they’ll forgive me for carving up their fairways with an imaginary car chase, the stone circle hidden in the rough on the ninth hole does not exist (that I know of), nor does St Christopher’s Visual Rehabilitation Centre, something you might have figured out if you realised why I called it St Christopher’s.

If my Gaelic is correct, then it is thanks to the awesome talents and advice of the lovely Josephine Walsh. If it’s wrong, it’s my fault. Thanks also to Gillian Pollack for her advice regarding Druids, bards and ancient Celtic locations, as well as to Lyn Tranter, Mark Timmony, Sharyn Lilley and my daughter TJ, for their incisive advice and proofreading.

As for the Druids and the
Tuatha Dé Danann
, I don’t doubt for a moment there are many readers out there who are preparing to email me as we speak, telling me how wrong I got them. Please don’t. This is a story of alternate realities and, more importantly, a story about how things are distorted over time. Of course, things have changed over the past 2000 years. Even in a reality where the people cling desperately to the status quo, the very act of clinging will force changes on them they could not anticipate.

If, however, you actually know a genuine member of the
Tuatha Dé Danann
, by all means drop me a line. I’d truly love to meet them.

Jennifer Fallon

Oxford, New Zealand 2010

PROLOGUE

The first thing the Faerie prince, Marcroy Tarth, did when Hayley Boyle arrived in his magical kingdom of
Tír Na nÓg
was to take her clothes away and burn them, replacing them with a gossamer-thin shift that offered only minimal protection for her dignity and absolutely none from the elements. It was something to do with her clothes being tainted by technology, Marcroy said, although she wasn’t really listening to the explanation.

Hayley was too enchanted by
Tír Na nÓg
to notice much of anything. She was still trying to get her head around the events of the past few hours.
Was it only hours?

This morning she had woken up in St Christopher’s Visual Rehabilitation Centre in Dublin, facing another day of ‘life lessons’. Another day of learning to cope with her blindness. Another day of dealing with the aftermath of being hit by a car outside Kiva Kavanaugh’s house in the chaos caused by a frenzied paparazzi pack. Another day of wondering if Ren was dead or alive.

Another day of being reminded that, until that moment, she had been a perfectly ordinary seventeen-year-old girl whose best friend just happened to be the son of a movie star. And now she was here. In another reality. With the Faerie.

And she could see.

Although she still wasn’t sure if Ren was dead or alive.

I might go mad if I think about this too much.

Her skin had tingled as she and Marcroy passed through the magical veil that separated the Faerie kingdom from the realm of man. Although it was still night out in the real world, it was only twilight in the Faerie kingdom. Magic glimmered from every surface. Even the insects seemed benign and drunk on the magical nectar they consumed. The forest pulsed with life, as if every plant were a sentient being, but even they paled in comparison to the majestic trees where the
Daoine sídhe
made their homes. Hayley gasped with awe when they reached the centre of
Tír Na nÓg
. She stared at one wonder only to discover another so marvellous she was almost unable to comprehend their existence — let alone their size and magnificence.

Intoxicated by the magical forest air, Hayley followed Marcroy all the way up the exquisitely curved stairs in wide-eyed wonder. The
sídhe
had coaxed the sacred trees into growing the stairs, Marcroy explained. The sacred trees of
Tír Na nÓg
were full of hollowed-out caves and broad boughs wide enough to act as platforms. His voice was hypnotic and seductive. It felt like warm liquid chocolate, if it were possible for a voice to manifest such a tactile effect. She was enchanted — with Marcroy, with
Tír Na nÓg
and the beautiful people who lived here. Their strange cat-slit eyes stared curiously at Hayley as she climbed ever upward behind Marcroy, no doubt wondering about this human interloper.

When they realised she was Marcroy’s invited guest, the Faerie bowed and smiled and sometimes sang a small refrain in a musical language Hayley couldn’t understand. Although she was unfamiliar with the melodies, the songs were so harmonious it was like listening to a treasured music box that constantly refreshed its repertoire, each song trying to outdo the last in purity and joy.

Marcroy led Hayley by the hand, high into the branches to meet his sister, an ethereal creature of exquisite beauty who seemed puzzled by her visitor. Elimyer had long, white-blonde hair, eyes that seemed carved from emeralds, and pronounced points on her ears. She was naked and flawless, as she emerged from the dark entrance of her quarters in the sacred tree and embraced Hayley like a long-lost child, which Hayley found rather disconcerting.

Other books

May the Farce Be With You by Roger Foss

Ellis Peters - George Felse 04 - A Nice Derangement of Epitaphs by Ellis Peters

Touch by North, Claire

Extraordinary by Amanda McGee

Wanted Dead by Kenneth Cook

Beware of Love in Technicolor by Collins Brote, Kirstie

Forget Me Not by Stef Ann Holm

Son of Eden, a Paranormal Romance by Brianna Merrill

Holly Lane by Toni Blake

The Chase by Jan Neuharth