No Matter the Cost

By Rachel Dib

Ty watched his wife pause beneath the ferns, face tilted toward the leafy canopy above. After taking a selfie in front of Blarney Castle, Beth had been more interested in exploring the surrounding gardens than standing in line to kiss the Blarney Stone. After all, who knew how many people had kissed that rock? Seemed a sure way to catch a cold—or something worse.

Beth passed him a tired smile and continued up the trail, slow but steady. Ty held back, trying his best to keep his own smile in place. It hurt to see her struggle when a year ago, she’d have been prancing up the path, cheeks aglow with health and vigor.

And she’d asked to go on the trip a year ago. But Ty had just started a new project at work and hadn’t wanted to leave. So he’d told her maybe next year.

Now cancer—terminal cancer—was eating her from within and Beth’s dream trip was more about soaking up as many last moments as possible before she wasted away completely.

Ty hated himself for that.

But he refused to show it. He lifted his chin, forcing himself to remain strong.

He’d do anything for her. Even take a trip that tore him up with guilt. A trip that he could’ve made time for—should’ve made time for—a year ago. Because what had that project earned him in the end? Just some prestige—and a year’s worth of stolen memories that would’ve been better spent with his wife.

“What are ya willing to do to save her?”

Ty startled at the question and turned to see a young man, probably in his early twenties, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. He had a mop of shaggy hair, a slight wiry build, and was dressed in a brown overcoat, breeches, and leather knee-high boots. He resembled a gentleman from one of those period dramas Beth liked to watch.

“What?”

The youth smirked, a twinkle in his amber gaze. He nodded at Beth. “I asked what you’re willing to do to save her.”

The cocky expression made Ty want to punch him. Instead, he gritted his teeth, growled, “Mind your own business,” and trudged after Beth.

“Suit yourself. It’s her funeral.”

Face aflame, Ty swung back around. “What did you just say?”

“She’s dyin’. Dat’s plain as day,” the youth replied, his Irish lilt a little too flippant. He shrugged. “I’d ’ave thought you’d do anything to save her. My mistake.”

Now Ty was going to punch him.

The youth’s smirk widened. “Ah, angered you, ’ave I? Funny dat.” The young man’s smirk widened as he stepped closer.

Surprised, Ty stumbled backward, anger abated. Something was not right with this guy. Or was it that he was too right? Seeing the gaze and knowing expression, Ty almost believed the youth did know the exact details of Beth’s predicament.

Ever since they’d arrived, Ty and Beth had listened to guides telling tales of the faeries that still visited Ireland, usually to cause mischief. All mysterious happenings were attributed to them. If a dog went missing in the fog, faeries had taken it. If a child was abducted from the back garden only to miraculously reappear three days later, faeries had stolen her and, thankfully, were merciful enough to return her again.

At the time, Ty had considered the stories nothing but local superstition mixed with the guide’s attempt to acquaint his audience with Irish lore. But what if that wasn’t the case? What if the faeries were real and did visit Ireland?

“Ret’inking my question, are ya?”

The youth smiled again, but this time his expression sent a chill zipping down Ty’s spine. While he may have looked young, his gaze claimed he was anything but. Even worse, his eyes held a malicious spark—a wild hunger—that didn’t belong to anything human.

Though Ty’s intuition screamed for him to run, he stood firm. He had to. As crazy as it was, if this was a faery, Ty needed to know whether the being could save Beth.

“I’d do anything.”

“I thought so.” The man’s harmless countenance returned. “Have your pretty lady kiss the Blarney Stone. Perhaps her luck will improve.”

“The stone is known for the gift of eloquent speech, not healing,” Ty replied, confused.

“True.” The youth tilted his head. “But what good would dat do in her situation?” With one last impish grin, he blinked out of existence.

Ty stared blankly at the spot where the faery had stood. He briefly questioned his sanity—wondered if he was so desperate to save Beth he’d begun experiencing remedial delusions. Then he bolted down the path to find her.

An hour later, they were only two people away from Beth’s chance to kiss the stone.

She sighed. “I still don’t understand why you want to do this. You cringe at the idea of sharing my toothbrush but want to kiss a rock that’s had countless other mouths on it.”

“It’s tradition.” Ty shrugged, forcing a nonchalant expression. “I’m sure they clean it.”

Beth lifted a brow. “Okaay.”

The couple ahead of her left, and Beth stepped forward. Ty helped her sit so she could position herself into the backward lean she’d need to kiss the Blarney Stone. She looked embarrassed, but if it healed her, a little short-term discomfort was worth it.

He held his breath as she bent backward—and then pain seared throughout his entire body. Ty gasped, feeling as if his blood had started boiling beneath his skin.

What did the faery do to me?

But when Beth sat up, Ty saw that a healthy glow had flooded her cheeks, and her eyes were bright as she stared at him, in wonderment.

And he knew, regardless of what happened to him, at least Beth was now cancer-free.

Whatever it takes, he reminded himself. To save her, I’d do whatever it takes. No matter the cost.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rachel Dib is a stay-at-home mom of three small children. After marrying a soldier, she left her home state of South Carolina to live in random places across the United States. Her works of short fiction have been published by On the Premises Magazine, Havok Publishing, and Ye Olde Dragon Books. She has also had short stories published by Toasted Cheese Literary Journal under the name R.J. Snowberger.

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