The Prophecy

by Karen MacLeod-Wilkie

  Merry showed them where they were on the map and directed them along the trails which would lead them to Queensville.

  “I thought you said we were going to Evansburg?” said Brigid.

  “A bit of misdirection, in case we were overheard. Cephas is your next contact at the Rock and Roll Lounge in Queensville.”

  Brigid, Treena, and Evander exchanged startled looks as Merry continued, “I need to get back to the diner. May your journey bring answers and safety to us all.”

  They offered Merry grateful hugs and watched until she was out of sight. They collected their packs and once again began to hike.

  “Cephas?” Treena repeated.

  “Rock and Roll Lounge?” Evander chuckled.

  “Seems like we’re headed in the right direction,” Brigid said.

  ***

  The Rock and Roll Lounge

  The woods were a mix of oak and pine. The fragrance from the pine needles felt soothing to Brigid. The hills were steep, but negotiable. They found the hut easily and switched their packs. The prosthetic ears were tricky, but they worked on each other’s until they were well masked. They ate fruit, used the chemical toilet, and returned to the trail. Treena kept focused and they avoided any dangerous wildlife.

  Three hours later, they ate their sandwiches and were careful to stay hydrated. Because they were travelling overland, they expected to arrive in Queensville early in the evening. They were to book a suite at the Fairmount Hotel, a lower-middle-class hotel and common rest stop for hikers. As an extra precaution, Merry had traded their monetary supply for more recent printings. She would slowly mix the bills from earlier decades into circulation at the diner to allay suspicion.

  Merry had directed them next to go to the Rock and Roll Lounge. They were to order a meal of Rolling Stone stew, Pink Floyd rolls, and Queen carrot cake with a dusting of icing sugar. This was to be a signal to Cephas. A second sign would be to compliment him on his place by saying, “It’s a merry night when the starlight is shining and the door is open. It’s good to be here in your very fine place.”

  Queensville was larger and busier than Morristown. They found the hotel. A harried desk clerk checked them into a room without comment. He was hustling, trying to deal with a line of customers who had formed in the lobby. They were strangely dressed. One woman wore a backless bright pink dress that billowed around her ankles and was cinched tightly around her bustline, its beading sparkling in the light. Another woman was in a bright blue halter dress that skirted over her thighs and then sassily flowed to mid-calf at the back. The men were flashy in their own way, in black outfits that hugged every curve of their bodies.

  “Dance competitions,” the clerk shrugged as he handed them their receipt.

  For safety, they decided to stay in one room. They eagerly showered off the grime from hiking and changed. Socks, bras, tank tops, and underwear were washed and hung to dry over shower rails and towel bars. There was a small wall safe where they could store their cash and valuables, but Evander wanted to keep the prophecy with them.

  “I saw a small gift shop off the lobby. Maybe I can find something to hold the box,” Evander said.

  Brigid offered to go with him. They spent a few fun minutes perusing the store’s array of gift items and supplies. They quickly discovered that the bags displayed were designed for women. On the Human Earth, men used wallets for money and cards. There was nothing Evander could discreetly use to carry the prophecy.

  Brigid found a spacious black leather purse with a shoulder strap.

  “This could work if you’d entrust me with our supplies,” said Brigid carefully in case anyone was listening.

  Evander looked into Brigid’s eyes.

  “I trust you. Besides, we’ll be together.”

  A few packets of fruit-and-nut trail mixes and a dark chocolate bar made it into their purchase pile. They traipsed back to their room, pleased with themselves.

  They explained to Treena about female handbags.

  “Huh! Seems silly to make it a gender thing,” she said. “We all have stuff we need to carry around with us.”

  Treena turned to Evander. “So, you’re cool with giving up control of the prophecy?”

  “Although responsibility for it was first passed to me, we all have a role to play in the prophecy,” he replied. “The only way we’ll continue to build trust is to give trust to one another.”

  “Well said,” said Treena as she watched Brigid transfer the box and a few healing items into the handbag.

  It was time to seek out their contact at the Rock and Roll Lounge. They returned to the lobby for directions and the clerk indicated that the Lounge was nearby. He pointed to a group of dancers going out the door and suggested they follow them because that was their destination as well.

  As they walked, they caught snippets of the dancers’ conversations as their eager voices rumbled back and forth.

  “Symba, you’re ready for this! Keep confident. I know you’ll impress the judges.”

  “Thanks, Quillon. I hope you’re right. We’ve worked so hard these past two years, but it’s been awesome. Good luck, everyone.”

  Words of encouragement flowed between them as they surged down the sidewalk. Treena spotted two people in camouflage driving by and scanning the street, so she urged Brigid and Evander to stay close behind the dancers, to make it seem like they were part of the group.

  “Are you going to the competition?” asked one of the women who noticed their presence.

  “Just to watch and to grab some food,” said Treena.

  “You move really well—fluid, like a dancer,” said the woman to a surprised Treena.

  One of the men spoke. “Don’t mind Krissy. She thinks everyone should be a dancer.”

  They arrived at the Lounge and the man held the door for everyone. “Hope you enjoy the show. Afterward, there’s an open dance if you’d like to give it a go. It’d be my pleasure to show you some moves.”

  “Thanks for the offer,” said Treena, smiling, “but I prefer to lead.”

  He winked at her as their troupe headed to a registration table at the far end of the lounge.

  Evander stepped to the front desk and requested a table for three. The hostess frowned as she checked her floor plan, but she managed to squeeze them around one last table near the dance floor. It was crowded and noisy.

  They ordered tea so that they could maintain clear heads. Brigid requested lemon ginger, Evander mint, and Treena green tea. They observed additional dancers arriving. The tables around them were crammed full. Finally, a waitress arrived, and they ordered as Merry had directed.

  The food was flavorful and filling, but there was no sign of Cephas. They asked their waitress if they could speak with him, but she shook her head.

  “The competition’s about to begin,” she said. “Cephas opens the show. Sorry, maybe later. I’ll tell him you liked the food.”

  She rushed off to another customer who was waving to get her attention.

  “Now what do we do?” Treena drummed her fingers on the table in frustration.

  “We could always watch the show,” said Brigid.

  “You like dancing?” asked Evander.

  “I love it,” said Brigid, flashing Evander a huge smile before her eyes returned to watching the dancers warm up.

  “When we were teenagers, she was forever getting me up to try out new moves,” Treena grumbled.

  “Hey, you enjoy dancing too. Besides, you were always better than me,” said Brigid.

  Turning to Evander, she continued. “She had incredible balance and poise from all her”—Brigid paused as she saw the warning glint in Evander’s expression—“from all her morning exercise routines,” she finished carefully.

  “We might as well stay,” said Evander. “Maybe later we can get Cephas’ attention.”

  The squeal of a microphone sounded and was quickly adjusted. A warm, fluid voice flowed into the quickly quietening room. Most people were seated; others le
aned against the walls. The voice welcomed them to the Rock and Roll Lounge and announced the evening’s competition. Loud cheers erupted around the room. The announcer then introduced Cephas, the Lounge’s owner, and declared that Cephas would open the show with a demonstration dance.

  The throb of music began. A lean yet muscular man glided onto the dance floor. The beat quickened and he swirled and leapt, arms and legs extended in perfect form. His torso snapped and he tucked into a roll. A wild grin swept across his face as the dance took him over. The music offered a final crescendo. Cephas dropped to one knee with head bowed; there was total silence. A split second later, loud applause burst out and Cephas stood, sweat dripping from his tightly curled black hair. He accepted a small towel from a waitress and brushed it over his face and neck.

  The announcer stated the evening would continue with solo dances followed by partner dances; the competition would extend over the next two evenings, and top performers from each night would compete in a final extravaganza. Each evening would conclude with an open dance so the audience could join in the fun.

  The evening flew by as they watched the dancers. Brigid recognized Symba and Quillon from the group they had walked behind to the Lounge. They each performed solo dances. Symba was petite for a dancer, a few inches over five feet. Her spiky midnight-colored hair was streaked with bright blue and magenta, matching her costume. She performed a stunning staccato rhythm for her solo. Quillon was sleekly muscled and six feet tall. He danced like a Celtic warrior, with his auburn hair swirling around his shoulders. They paired up for a partner dance and Brigid also recognized another couple from earlier. The music and movement had wound Brigid up like a spring by the time the open dance commenced. She felt a gentle squeeze on her shoulder and turned. Evander was caught up in the excitement too.

  “Would you like to dance?” he asked.

  Brigid grabbed his hand from her shoulder and jumped up. “You bet!”

  She hauled him onto the dance floor immediately. The music was fast, and Evander swung into a jive that she quickly followed. Their steps were similar to those of the dancers around them. It seemed some things were common between the fairy and human realms. Brigid had no trouble following Evander’s lead; the jive was one of her favorites. They were well-matched in height, so his laughing eyes captured hers as they spun around.

  The music slowed to a lilting waltz. Evander drew Brigid close and she gracefully let her body float into his, around him, legs and torsos brushing against each other. Every cell in Brigid’s body throbbed. Her focus was completely on Evander; she wanted him like she had never wanted anyone before. His hands were hot upon her and his gaze burned. They lost all sense of the people and room around them, until a woman staggered into Brigid and nearly knocked her over.

  “Oops, sorry,” the woman slurred. “I seem to be having trouble getting my steps.”

  She staggered again and bumped into Evander, cutting in front of Brigid and forcing Evander to hold her up.

  “Hey there, handsome,” she purred as she patted his cheek.

  Evander looked helplessly at Brigid. Brigid, who had been frustrated at first, began to giggle.

  The woman swayed against him. “How about a kiss?”

  Evander frantically tried to disentangle himself, but the woman was slippery as an eel. Brigid was no help as she dissolved into laughter at his predicament. He heard a voice over his shoulder.

  “I see our friend is giving you a little trouble.”

  Symba and Quillon appeared on each side of him and put their arms around the troublesome woman.

  “Come on Marla,” they said.

  “The judges didn’t like me. I’m done. What’ll I do? I love to dance,” she sobbed and large tears rolled down her cheeks.

  She started toward Evander again. “But you’ll dance with me, won’t you? I like how you move.”

  Symba and Quillon tried to keep a grip on Marla as Evander saw Cephas weaving through the other dancers toward them.

  “Everything okay here?” Cephas asked.

  He stepped in as Evander stepped away from Marla in an evasive maneuver. At that moment, Symba and Quillon lost their grip on Marla. Symba tripped over Quillon’s foot, causing them both to tumble to the floor, propelled by Marla’s forward momentum. At the same time, Marla twirled and crashed into Brigid, forcing her into Cephas, who tried to grab them both and ended up bowled over by their combined weight.

  Evander was stunned. There were four dancers down, one with a name meaning rock, the other with a name denoting strength. Were they part of the prophecy which said When the Rock trips the Dancer…? There were five people on the floor, including Brigid. Was this their next sign? How would they know? Who was to be added to their mission?

  “Don’t just stand there,” said Brigid, interrupting his thoughts. “Give me a hand up.”

  Treena had been dancing nearby and scooted over to join them when the ruckus unfolded. She extended a hand to Symba, then Quillon. Cephas managed to get himself upright. Only Marla remained on the floor; no one seemed eager to reach for her. Symba knelt back down beside her and then looked up in disbelief.

  “She’s passed out!”

  Cephas gestured to Evander and Quillon. “We should be able to carry her between us. Let’s take her back to my office.”

  People were beginning to gather around them. Symba urged them back to dancing, assuring them everything was fine. Treena and Brigid cleared the way, moving chairs and people as needed. The guys slowly maneuvered Marla to Cephas’ office where they placed her on a couch. Treena and Brigid, followed by Symba, pushed into the office as well. Cephas shut the door. They all looked at each other, wondering what to do next.

  “Does anyone know first aid?” asked Cephas. “We should probably check her for a concussion or other injuries.”

  Brigid paused, but when no one else responded she said, “I have medical training. Do you have a small light?”

  Cephas went to his desk drawer where he extracted a small penlight. “Will this do?”

  “Perfect,” said Brigid, reaching for it.

  She leaned over Marla and pulled up the lid of each eye. She shone the light into Marla’s eyes and watched for the pupils’ responsiveness. Brigid gently ran her fingers over Marla’s scalp to check for bumps or abrasions. She let her consciousness drop into Marla’s body and mind to perform a deeper assessment. Brigid was aware of the others’ attentive stares. She sensed some swelling in the left ankle, so she did a physical inspection of all limbs before she pointed it out.

  “Is she all right?” Symba asked.

  Brigid nodded. “I don’t see any sign of concussion. The only injury seems to be a strained ankle and too much alcohol. It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on her, but she should be fine once she survives a nasty hangover.”

  Brigid had sent a bit of soothing energy to the ankle and liver, but she didn’t want to interfere too much and risk revealing her magical gift.

  “I’d rather not send her to the hospital,” Symba said. “It’s so expensive and I know she doesn’t have any medical coverage.”

  “She didn’t eat anything all day because she was so nervous about the competition. When she didn’t place, she ordered four shots from the bar and downed them one after another, before I could stop her,” Quillon said.

  While the others gathered around Marla, Evander pulled Cephas aside and quietly spoke the code words: “It’s a merry night when the starlight is shining and the door is open. It’s good to be here in your very fine place.”

  Cephas’ eyes widened and he glanced at the others. “You’ve met Merry?” he whispered.

  Evander nodded.

  Symba looked over with a smile. She obviously had very acute hearing.

  “You know Merry? Isn’t she a hoot? I think she’s a cousin or something like that on my mother’s side. Hey, Quillon, do you remember how I’m related to Merry?”

  “Sure. Her grandmother and your great-grandmother were first cousins,” Q
uillon said.

  “Quillon and I grew up together in Greenberg,” Symba shared. “We started dancing when we were four. I lean on him often. He’s my rock.”

  She smiled and gave Quillon an affectionate hip-check.

  “Cephas, doesn’t your name mean ‘rock’?” asked Evander.

  Treena’s gaze probed Evander’s face as she tried to figure out what he was doing.

  “Not many people pay attention to the meaning of names. Are they important to you?” said Cephas. He glanced down at his watch. They were taking up a lot of his time.

  Evander’s reply was noncommittal. “I find them fascinating. It’s interesting to see if a name’s meaning matches what a person is like.”

  Suddenly, a moan was emitted from the couch. “Oh, my head.” Marla was regaining consciousness.

  “Don’t shine that light at me, my head’s splitting!” said Marla, pushing the penlight away as Brigid tried to do another assessment of her pupils.

  Brigid smoothed her hand over Marla’s brow to offer her some release.

  Marla slowly sat up. “That feels better. What did you do?”

  “I just pushed a few pressure points for pain. Glad it helped,” said Brigid.

  Marla glanced around curiously. “I guess I made a mess of things, didn’t I?”

  “We all managed to have a bit of a rumble on the floor,” said Quillon, smiling. “Maybe we’ll start a whole new dance trend.”

  “Is everyone okay?” Marla asked.

  Their nods assured her.

  She turned to Cephas. “This is your place, right? I’m sorry for causing trouble.”

  “It was pretty minor compared to some things I see,” said Cephas “You just put a bit more roll into the rock and roll than we usually do.”

  “I think I need to find my room before I crash again,” said Marla.

  She stood up and stumbled as her ankle showed its weakness. “No! I’ve hurt my ankle.”