she set the alarm on her phone for thirty minutes and stretched out to take a nap, since she’d wait tables until after two in the morning.
She had to turn off her mind first, as her thoughts insisted on conjuring worst-case scenarios.
Either she or Marco would contract a serious illness—or have a terrible accident—overnight and have to cancel.
They’d learn all flights to Ireland had been canceled indefinitely because . . . reasons.
They’d fly all the way to Ireland only to learn their passports were invalid. They’d be deported immediately.
The aliens finally invaded.
The Walking Dead became reality.
As she wasted nearly five minutes entertaining all the tragic possibilities, it was hardly a surprise her short nap was neither quiet nor restful.
She found herself alone walking on thick green grass under skies the color of pewter. Though gray, the sky carried a glow as if the sun pressed and pressed its light and heat behind those layered clouds.
A kind of inlet wove, a slow snake, between the land and the wider bay. She could see stubby green knuckles punching up through the still water, and fuzzy white sheep with black faces on the far hills.
The air, moist and cool, fluttered through the trees, shivered over a garden alive with bold, almost insolent color.
She heard birdsong and the musical notes of the chimes—dozens of them—hanging from the branches of a tree at the verge of the woods.
She walked that way, where the thick grass led to a soft brown path, narrow as a ribbon, and the light turned to a wonderfully eerie green. Moss, thick as a carpet, blanketed the wide trunks of trees, coated their curving branches, smothered rocks that heaved out of the ground.
A stream rushed by, burbling and spilling over rock ledges. She thought she heard murmuring, and laughter.
The water, she thought, or the wind chimes at the start of the path.
She walked on, caught up in wonder and delight.
A bird whizzed by, green as an emerald. Then another, ruby red, and a third, like a sapphire on the wing.
She’d never seen anything like them—so jewel-like, so iridescent—and followed the path of their flight.
And in the green shadows and light she heard them call, a young sound and somehow fierce. With it came the drumbeat of water striking water and rock.
The waterfall spilled from a dizzying height, had her heart leaping at the sight of it.
A thunderous fall, white as snow into the winding stream, where it turned pale, pale green.
The birds swirled around the fall of water, the three and more. Topaz, carnelian, amethyst, cobalt in a dazzling display. Dipping, diving, dancing.
One swooped to her, wings fluttering as it hovered inches from her face. She saw its ruby-red wings tipped with gold like its—his, she knew, his—eyes.
Not a bird, not at all, but a dragon no bigger than the palm of her hand.
“Hello. You’re Lonrach, because that’s what you are. Brilliant.” She held out a hand, thrilled when he settled on her palm. “And you’re mine.”
She walked with him, drawn to the falls, the dance of the little dragons.
She realized she could see through the white water, as if it became moving and translucent glass.
And through it, she saw what seemed to be a city, gray and black, towers and spears of buildings rising into a sky more purple than blue. Like a healing bruise.
The greatest tower, a black glass spear, grew from an island of rock. A bridge, narrow, swaying, spanned over the crashing sea to connect it to the city on the cliffs.
She thought she heard weeping, war cries, and inhuman screams, the clash of steel to steel, the thunder of hooves.
Though it made her heart pound, she moved closer, saw swirls of light, explosions of it.
Was she supposed to go through, leave this wonderful place for one of weeping and war?
Why would she? Why would anyone?
Still, she found herself drawn closer as the dragon calls turned thunderous and the fall of water rocked the ground.
The dragon winged away to join the others. She tried to call him back but how could he hear over the din?
Then in the stream, in a pool of pale green, she saw the gleam of red and gold. For an instant she feared the dragon had fallen in, drowned, but he circled above her head, those gold eyes watchful.
A stone, she realized, big as a baby’s fist, with dozens of smaller ones glinting on the gold links of the chain. And the clasp, clear through the water, a dragon in flight.
Someone had