“What’s the problem?” Gabriel asked.

“No problem. Just no visitors.” Captain Foley opened up a cracked sugar bowl, took out a pinch of black tobacco, and stuffed it into his pipe. “The island is owned by the Republic, leased to the Holy Church, and chartered to the Order of the Poor Sisters. One thing they all agree on-government, church, and nuns-is that they don’t want strangers tromping around Skellig Columba. It’s a protected area for seabirds. The Poor Clares don’t bother them because they spend their time praying.”

“Well, perhaps if I just spoke to them and asked for permission to-”

“No one gets on the island without a letter from the bishop, and I don’t see you waving one.” Foley lit the pipe and puffed some sugary smoke at Gabriel. “And that’s the end of the story.”

“Here’s a new story,” Maya said. “I’ll pay you a thousand euros to take us out to the island so that we can talk to the nuns.”

The captain considered her offer. “That might be possible…”

Maya touched Gabriel’s hand and pulled him toward the doorway. “I think we’re going to look for another boat.”

“It’s more than possible,” Foley said quickly. “See you on the wharf at ten tomorrow morning.”

They left the house and walked outside. Maya felt like she’d been trapped in a badger’s den. It was close to nightfall and patches of darkness had appeared-tangled in the bushes and spreading beneath the trees.

The villagers were safe within their homes, watching television and cooking dinner. Lights glowed through lace curtains, and smoke came up from some of the chimneys. Gabriel led Maya across the road to a rusty park bench that overlooked the bay. The tide was out, leaving a strip of dark sand covered with driftwood and dead seaweed. Maya sat on the bench as Gabriel walked to the tide line and gazed out at the western horizon. The setting sun touched the ocean and was transformed into a hazy blob of light that flowed across the water.

“My father’s on that island,” Gabriel said. “I know he’s out there. I can almost hear him talking to me.”

“Maybe that’s true. But we still don’t know why he came to Ireland. There has to be a reason.”

Gabriel turned away from the water. He walked over to the bench and sat down beside her. They were alone in the gloom, close enough so that she could feel him breathing.

“It’s getting dark,” he said. “Why are you still wearing your sunglasses?”

“Just a habit.”

“You once told me that Harlequins were against habits and predictable actions.”

Gabriel reached out and removed her sunglasses. He folded them and placed them beside her leg. Now he was staring straight into her eyes. Maya felt naked and vulnerable, as if she had been stripped of all her weapons.

“I don’t want you to look at me, Gabriel. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“But we like each other. We’re friends.”

“That’s not true. We can never be friends. I’m here to protect you-to die for you, if that’s necessary.”

Gabriel looked out at the ocean. “I don’t want anyone dying for me.”

“We all understand the risk.”

“Maybe. But I’m connected to what happened. When we first met in Los Angeles and you told me I might be a Traveler, I didn’t understand how it was going to change the lives of the people I met. I have all these questions that I want to ask my father…” Gabriel fell silent and shook his head. “I never accepted the idea that he was gone. Sometimes, when I was a kid, I would lie in bed at night and have these imaginary conversations with him. I thought I’d grow out of that when I got older, but now it’s even more intense.”

“Gabriel, your father might not be on the island.”

“Then I’ll keep looking for him.”

“If the Tabula know you’re searching for your father, they’ll have power over you. They’ll put out false clues-like bait for a trap.”

“I’ll take that chance. But that doesn’t mean that you have to come along. It would destroy me if something happened to you, Maya. I couldn’t live with that.”

She felt as if Thorn were standing behind the bench, whispering all his threats and warnings. Never trust anyone. Never fall in love. Her father was always so strong, so sure of himself-the most important person in her life. But damn him, she thought. He’s stolen my voice. I can’t speak.

“Gabriel,” she whispered. “Gabriel…” Her voice was very soft, like that of a lost child who had given up hope of ever being found.

“It’s all right.” He reached out and took her hand. Only a sliver of the sun remained on the horizon. Gabriel’s skin was warm to the touch, and Maya felt as if she would be cold-Harlequin cold-for the rest of her life.

“I will stand beside you no matter what happens,” she said. “I swear that to you.”

He leaned forward to kiss her. But when Maya turned her head, she saw dark shapes moving toward them.

“Maya!” Vicki called out to them. “Is that you? Alice got worried. She wanted to find you guys…”

IT RAINED THAT night. In the morning, a thick bank of fog lay on the ocean just outside the bay. Maya put on some of the clothes she had bought in London-wool pants, a dark green cashmere sweater, and a leather coat with winter lining. After eating breakfast at the pub, they walked over to the wharf and found Captain Foley loading sacks of peat and plastic storage boxes onto his thirty-foot fishing boat. Foley explained that the peat was for the convent’s stove, and the boxes contained food and clean clothes. The only water on Skellig Columba came from rain that trickled into rock catch basins. There was enough water for the nuns to drink and wash themselves, but not enough to wash their black skirts and veils.

The boat had an open deck for pulling in fishing nets and an enclosed cockpit near the bow that gave protection from the wind. Alice seemed excited to be back on a boat. She went in and out of the hold, inspecting everything, as they began to leave the bay. Captain Foley lit his pipe and puffed some smoke in their direction. “Known world,” he said, and jerked his thumb toward the green hills to the east. “And this…” He gestured toward the west.

“End of the world,” Gabriel said.

“That’s right, boyo. When Saint Columba and his monks first came to this island, they were traveling to the farthest place west on a map of Europe. Last stop on the tramline.”

They entered into the fog the moment they left the protection of the bay. It was like being in the middle of an enormous cloud. The decks glistened and drops of water clung to the steel cables attached to the radio antenna. The fishing boat glided down into the trough of each new wave, only to rise up again to splash through the whitecaps. Alice held on to the rail at the stern, then ran back to Maya. Looking excited, she pointed at a harbor seal floating near the boat. The seal stared back at them like a sleek dog that had just found some strangers in his backyard.

Gradually, the fog began to burn away and they could see patches of sky overhead. Seabirds were everywhere: shearwaters and storm petrels, pelicans and white gannets with black-tipped wings. After traveling for an hour or so, they passed an island called Little Skellig that was a nesting ground for the gannets. The bare rock was colored white, and thousands of the birds swirled through the air.

Another hour passed before Skellig Columba emerged from the waves. It looks exactly like the photograph Gabriel had seen at Tyburn Convent: two jagged peaks of a submerged mountain range. The island was covered with brush and heather, but Maya couldn’t see the convent or any other structure.

“Where do we land?” she asked Captain Foley.

“Patience, miss. We’re coming in from the east. There’s a bit of a cove on the south side of the island.”

Keeping wide of the rocks, Foley approached a twenty-foot dock attached to steel pilings. The dock led to a concrete slab that was surrounded by a chain-link fence. A prominent sign with red and black letters announced that the island was a protected ecological area off-limits to anyone who had not received written permission from the Kerry diocese. A locked gate had been installed at the edge of the slab. It guarded a stone stairway that led up the slope.