I nodded at her to go on.

“Then she came upon the idea of sending something inanimate from this world, something that could carry some of her power, with one of the people.”

“The pot!”

“Yes, she sent a ceremonial funeral vase—one that had been used to pour libations over the graves of past generations of Epona’s Chosen.” She paused and swallowed hard. “Her next test was more successful.”

“More successful?” I didn’t like how that sounded.

“The servant lived. For a while.”

“Ugh.”

“Yes. Rhiannon went back to fasting and meditating. Then she seemed to have discovered an answer.” Alanna sat on one of the chaises. This time I poured her a glass of wine, then poured myself a glass and sat next to her. “She had a favorite servant—a Shaman named Bres.” She blanched visibly and her eyes darted nervously as she spoke his name. “He wasn’t like ClanFintan, he worshipped dark gods whose names are better left unsaid.”

“Well, don’t say them then!” This whole conversation was giving me a walking-over-my-grave feeling.

Alanna nodded in agreement and continued, “They performed a dark ceremony the day you came to this world. A terrible storm blew in.”

“There was a storm that appeared suddenly the afternoon of my accident.”

“She and Bres walked to a deserted area near the Loch at the edge of Ufasach Marsh. She always insisted that I be nearby, so I went with them, but it was hard for me to understand what was happening because of the wind and the rain.”

My Mustang and I understood exactly what she was describing.

“They chose an abandoned cottage to set afire. Even in the storm it burned with an unholy flame. Bres walked into the building, chanting an incantation that stung my ears with its intensity. He disappeared. Then another man, one with Bres’s form, but who was obviously not the Shaman, burst from the building almost hysterical with confusion.” Alanna stopped and took a long drink.

To save her the embarrassment of drinking alone I chugged with her.

“As he emerged, Rhiannon moved behind him and slit his throat. Then she caught his blood in a goblet and drank it. She spent the rest of the day speaking spells over his body. As dusk was falling she stripped off her clothes, flung her head back and arms wide, and moved into the still-burning building like she was embracing it.”

I shivered, remembering the weird mirror vision of myself I had glimpsed in the pot as it burst into a fiery ball.

“Then the building exploded into nothing. And I found you lying unconscious in its ruins.” She smiled bravely at me.

“I wonder if she was successful in getting to my world.” It felt strange to wish ill on someone who could be my twin, or more accurately my clone. But I did wish it, vehemently.

“She was successful.” Alanna’s voice had gone flat.

“How do you know?”

“She was always successful. She settled for nothing less than exactly what she desired.”

“Well, public school will be a rude awakening for her. I’d love to be a fly on the wall at her first parent-teacher conference.” Not even tenure would be enough to protect her. “At least we’re rid of her and that Bres character.”

“Yes.” We grinned at each other.

“Hey, was Bres tall and skeletal with real stinky breath and a fish belly–white complexion?”

“Yes!” She blinked in surprise at me. “Did you see him?”

“We met shortly before the storm hit. He was seriously creepy.”

We shivered in unison.

“I’m glad you found me.” I squeezed her hand.

“I am, too.” She squeezed back and the warmth of our friendship brought the color back to a world that had turned temporarily pale.

“How about showing me the map before ClanFintan gets here and starts messing with my mind?” And (I sincerely hoped) my body.

She stood, refilled both of our empty glasses and then moved to a door at the far end of the chamber. It opened to a tastefully decorated sitting room, complete with love seats, a reading table, a chaise lounge (obviously a hot item in this world), a fireplace with an elaborately carved marble mantel and walls lined with rows and rows of—

“Books!” I yelped as I rushed into the room, practically knocking Alanna to her butt. “I thought this door led to a closet.” I ran my fingers reverently down the leather spines. “God, I love books.”

“So did Rhiannon. She kept the scribes busy.” Alanna went to one wall and climbed to the top rung of a little wooden stepladder. She reached up inside the topmost shelf and pulled down a rolled-up map.

“This is Partholon.”

“Wow!” Which was an understatement.

The map unrolled until it almost touched the floor. It was a little like the screen for an overhead projector, but it was made of some kind of intricately woven material that reminded me of silk, only thicker. It was amazing—its beauty drew me near and I longed to touch its softness. I stepped close to it and ran my hands in a light caress over its surface.

“Uh!” It was as though an electric shock had passed through the map to my fingers, and my hands shot back from the fabric. “It zapped me!”

Alanna looked pleased. “There is the last of your proof. The spark that passes between the sacred map of Partholon and the Beloved of Epona happens only when the Goddess’s High Priestess touches it.”