The Prophecy

by Karen MacLeod-Wilkie

  Symba rushed to put an arm around her friend.

  “It’ll be okay,” said Symba. “We can get some ice back at the hotel. That’ll slow any swelling.”

  “I have ointment helpful for sprains. I can also stimulate your acupressure points to encourage recovery, if you’d like?” Brigid said.

  “You’d do that, even after I landed everyone on the floor?” said Marla, her cheeks flushed.

  Brigid nodded.

  “I’m really sorry for causing trouble.”

  “We’re fine, Marla. Come on. Let’s get you back to the hotel,” said Symba, urging Marla forward.

  “I recommend a bit of food before you go to sleep,” said Cephas, “and lots of water.”

  Marla directed her gaze to the floor as her cheeks reddened even more.

  “Let me call you a cab,” said Cephas. “Then, I need to get back to the Lounge. You’re sure no one else is injured?”

  They assured Cephas that, other than a few bruises, everyone was all right.

  Cephas quickly made the call as Symba led the way outside. Evander made sure he was the last to exit so he could speak to Cephas privately.

  “Are you free for breakfast?”

  Cephas glanced at the others. “I’ll be working until the early hours of the morning,” he said. “Can we make it brunch at ten-thirty?”

  Evander nodded.

  “All of you?” asked Cephas.

  “Just Brigid, Treena, and I.”

  “Come to the back door. The Lounge doesn’t open until noon. I’ll be watching for you.”

  Cephas closed the door and locked it. He spoke to the others as he strode by.

  “Good luck with your dancing. Hope that ankle heals up, Marla.”

  By the time the group wove their way through the crowd, and sympathetic friends murmured their words of support to Marla, the cab was at the curb. Fortunately, it was large enough to accommodate all seven of them. It was a tight squeeze in the back seat and Brigid found herself tightly pressed against Evander. He gave her a quick grin as the sparks tingled everywhere that their bodies connected. She watched out the window as the van drove off.

  It was a short drive, during which Brigid noticed a parked car with two people sitting in it. They weren’t wearing camouflage, but they were focused on the comings and goings of people at the Lounge and other establishments. Brigid was grateful she was with the dancers.

  They disembarked at the hotel and Quillon paid the driver. Symba guided Marla inside. Marla swayed from fatigue and an excess of alcohol. Treena stepped to her other side to give additional support.

  “Shall I ask at the desk if we can order soup and crackers?” said Evander.

  Quillon clapped him on the shoulder. “If you do that, I’ll take care of ice. I noticed an ice maker on the second floor.”

  “I need to go to our room to get the ointment,” said Brigid. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  Brigid hurried toward the stairwell.

  Within thirty minutes, Marla was soundly asleep. Her ankle had been iced, ointment had been spread on it, and it had been soothed with an extra boost of Brigid’s healing energy.

  All three dancers enjoyed the soup Evander ordered. He had anticipated their hunger after the exertion of their performances. He had also ordered cinnamon rolls to share. Assured that Marla was well settled, the others crept out of her room. They bid each other goodnight with wishes for a good night’s sleep.

  Inside their room, Evander began pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath.

  “What’s going on, Evander? I’ve felt your tension since the accident on the dance floor,” said Brigid, placing her hand on his arm to halt the pacing.

  “It has to do with the next part of the prophecy, doesn’t it?” said Treena.

  “Remember the line that states, ‘When the Rock trips the Dancer, the prophecy moves forward’?”

  “Yes,” said Brigid. She removed her hand from his arm and Evander began pacing back and forth again, unable to stand still.

  “It’s not clear to me. Each of us fits the prophecy exactly. Now, I have two men who could fit the rock description and there were four dancers who tripped and fell.”

  “That’s why you quizzed Cephas about his name, trying to get a response from him,” said Treena. “He didn’t say much, but with the others in the room that’s not surprising.”

  “Does Quillon’s name mean rock?” Brigid asked.

  “Not exactly. It means strong one and sword, but Symba called him her rock,” said Evander.

  “They were the first to fall when Symba tripped over his foot,” said Treena, pulling out a change of clothing from her backpack. She was ready for sleep.

  “Symba has fairy blood through her connection with Merry. But Quillon appears to be fully human. Cephas was our contact, but Marla is definitely human and she’s the one who tripped him.” Evander drummed his fingers against his legs.

  “I don’t want to add to the stress, but I noticed two men in a car, scanning the street, when we drove back here,” said Brigid.

  “I noticed them as well,” said Treena. “We’re going to have to be very careful not to stand out as strangers.”

  Evander paused mid-stride and spoke, “I set up a meet with Cephas tomorrow morning for brunch. Should we go ahead with that?”

  A soft knock sounded on the door. They looked at each other apprehensively. Treena stepped to the door and peered through the peephole.

  “It’s Symba. Shall I let her in?”

  The knock came again.

  “I don’t sense any destructive intent; I just pick up slight anxiety,” said Brigid.

  Evander hurriedly scanned the room to be sure nothing would give them away, and then gestured to go ahead. Treena opened the door.

  “May I come in?”

  Treena stepped back so Symba could enter.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but this felt urgent.” Symba’s hands were clasped together at her waist.

  Treena closed the door as Symba walked in.

  “Have you scanned the room?” asked Symba.

  Treena nodded.

  “No electronics?”

  “We don’t have any. There’s a television and a desk phone, but we haven’t used them.”

  “May I check them?” asked Symba.

  “Go ahead,” said Treena. Symba took a small screwdriver from her pocket and lifted the headset of the phone. She took it apart to reveal a small receiver, set up to record any conversations made on the phone. She quickly disabled it. As she assessed the television, she nodded approvingly at the black tape Treena had affixed over the tiny hole that was a camera lens.

  “Under the present government’s direction, military surveillance has become pervasive in this area of Tavisland, but not everyone is aware of it. I wanted to be sure you weren’t placed in a risky situation,” said Symba. “Brigid, I could see energy emitting from you to Marla when you were assessing her and when you applied the ointment in her room. I suspect you have some fairy blood in you. You don’t have to tell me. I just want to warn you that people with such heritage have been going missing here over the past year.”

  Evander took a deep breath as if to fortify himself before speaking. “Why don’t we all take a seat?”

  Treena dragged the desk chair close to the door. Symba moved to sit at one of two chairs in the sitting area, while Brigid selected the other. Evander sat on the end of a bed.

  Evander continued, “As you’ve ascertained, Symba, we’re fairies, like you.”

  She nodded in confirmation and hitched an eyebrow in inquiry.

  “We’re not from here. We’ve come to make contact with others like ourselves. Your cousin, Merry, was very helpful and warned us of the dangers you’ve identified. We appreciate your assistance. Would you be willing to tell us more about yourself?”

  Symba leaned forward in her chair.

  “My mother was pure heritage, my father mixed blood. Through the generations there ha
ve been lots of intermarriages because the fairy population was so small around here.”

  “Did that affect giftedness?” asked Evander.

  “Sometimes gifts would skip a generation. Other times they manifested very weakly within individuals. In my case, I have enhanced senses, like an extended range for hearing and the ability to see energy. I’ve been careful not to reveal my gifts or heritage.”

  “Does Quillon know?” Evander asked.

  “Yes. We’ve been friends since childhood. We’ve been through a lot together. He’s been my rock ever since junior high when I was bullied by boys who discovered I preferred girls to them. When my wings and magical gift emerged, I shared my heritage with him. He promised to keep my secret and to protect me. He has. He’d never betray me.”

  “You’re sure about that?” said Treena. Her foot kept up a constant motion where it crossed her other leg.

  “Definitely.” The earnest expression on Symba’s face reflected the conviction of her words. “Quillon’s gotten me through more than one sticky situation over the years. He created safe places where I could recharge my wings. He helped create a fully human profile for me. Quillon has been my protector and best friend, always.”

  Evander looked like he was waging a vigorous internal debate. Eventually, he spoke. “Tomorrow we’re meeting Cephas for brunch to discuss important matters for our people. Would you like to join us?”

  Symba paused before responding. “I will, but I want to bring Quillon. I noticed surveillance teams on the street tonight. We’ll need Quillon to act as our cover. His family is well known throughout Tavisland. He’s created a profile for himself as a wealthy dilettante who dabbles in the arts and in women. If we’re stopped and questioned, he’ll likely be recognized. Quillon can play up the dance floor fiasco and that the Lounge wants to stay in his family’s good books. Cephas’ offer of a free brunch could be explained as a gesture of goodwill.”

  “I like your way of thinking,” Treena said.

  Symba smiled at the compliment and stood up. “I think it’s time we all got some rest. I don’t know about you lot, but I’m exhausted.”

  “Sounds like good advice,” said Brigid, who stretched her body as she produced a huge yawn. “I call first dibs on the bathroom.”

  She turned to move in that direction and caught Evander’s warm gaze caressing her body. She blushed at the fire she saw in his eyes and immediately recalled the feel of his body against hers when they were dancing. She tried to calm her suddenly raging libido, because there was no chance of it being satisfied at that moment. She broke his gaze and looked over to see Treena opening the door for Symba. Symba reached up and gently squeezed Treena’s arm in reassurance. Then, she was gone.

  A bemused expression crossed Treena’s tired face. “Let’s get some sleep,” she said.

  Within minutes, the lights were out. Treena and Brigid dropped into sleep. Evander continued to poke through his thoughts, struggling to make sense of the prophecy, the people they’d encountered so far, and his growing attraction to Brigid.

  Eventually, he counted the holes in the ceiling tiles until he drifted into a dreamscape of Brigid dancing erotically for him. It was not conducive to a restful night.

  ***

  The Dancer and the Rock

  When morning arrived, Treena led the three through strength training, knife practice, and stretching. They figured out how to use the coffee maker in their room and shared the snacks from the gift shop. The chocolate was dark and delicious. It tided them over until it was time for brunch with Cephas. After a brief discussion, they decided it was best to come clean about the prophecy and let things unfold from there.

  At a quarter after ten, a brisk knock announced Symba and Quillon’s presence. Treena pulled on the sweater that covered her sword, and Brigid opened the door. They stepped inside and Quillon spoke immediately as the door closed behind him.

  “Symba told me you’re all like her. I want to assure you of your safety with me. I’m willing to offer you my help for as long as you need it.”

  Evander extended his hand to Quillon. “Thanks. Your assistance is appreciated.”

  “I can feel the sincerity of your words,” said Brigid. “Thanks for being our cover this morning. You certainly look the part.” Brigid’s eyes admiringly scanned his figure.

  Quillon grinned wryly. He’d pulled his hair back into a bronze clasp. His suit and shirt were expertly cut. Gold cuff links and a flashy watch gleamed on his wrist.

  “I do my best to look the part, but I’d rather be in dance apparel.”

  A loud growl emanated from Treena’s stomach. “I believe that’s the signal for brunch,” she laughed.

  Brigid grabbed her handbag, and they exited the room. They set out to walk the short hike to the Lounge.

  An officer in uniform stood outside the hotel. Quillon headed straight for him.

  “Officer, glad to see you on duty and protecting Queensville. I’m Quillon Roche.”

  Evander’s head jerked as he heard Quillon speak. Brigid placed her hand on his arm and Treena grinned.

  “My family appreciates your dedication. Keep up the good work,” said Quillon.

  “Sir,” said the officer as he inclined his head and gave Quillon a serious look, “please be careful. There’s lots of extra people around with the dance competition. Some strange happenings were reported near Morristown, Mr. Roche, so we’re keeping a close watch.”

  “My friends and I were invited to brunch at the Lounge where the competition is being hosted. We’ll pass on your concerns to the owner,” said Quillon before he rejoined the others.

  With their heads high and striving to look relaxed, they sauntered down the street. Brigid could feel the officer’s eyes following them.

  “His attention has been drawn elsewhere,” Brigid said as they arrived in front of the Lounge. “Didn’t Cephas direct us to the back door?”

  “We saw suppliers go down this alley when we were here to register yesterday,” said Symba, confidently leading the way.

  The alley was wide enough for a single vehicle. It extended down the side of the building to a parking lot. They kept close to the wall in case any suppliers whipped around the corner. The lot held one small car at the far end. Evander arrived at the door and knocked.

  They waited a few moments before the door opened. Cephas greeted them with a coffee cup in hand and a slightly tired smile of welcome. “Come on in.”

  He led them through the kitchen to a room on the far side. A full spread of food was displayed on a sideboard. “I didn’t expect so many of you,” Cephas said, “but I believe there’s enough for everyone.”

  He raised an eyebrow of inquiry toward Evander.

  Evander described the patrols they’d noticed the night before and Symba’s offer to bring Quillon as a cover for them. Cephas listened carefully, and then encouraged everyone to fill their plates and enjoy the food while it was hot. He entertained the group with descriptions of the previous evening’s amusing antics. He recommended refraining from any serious conversation until the meal was complete.

  Filling coffee and teacups one last time, Cephas said, “The room’s sealed so nothing we share can be heard. Evander, you asked for this meeting. Let’s hear why.”

  “I’m a priest of Azran,” said Evander, “from the Fairy Realm.”

  Cephas nodded, listening attentively.

  Symba gasped. “But how did you make it through? I heard there were others who tried to make a crossing and they were captured.”

  Evander shared how others who had crossed had not returned. He explained the existence of the prophecy and how it was believed to have been enacted. He described his journey to enlist Brigid and his encounter with Treena that led to her inclusion as part of the prophecy’s fulfillment. He spoke of their mission from the Queen. As Evander continued the story of their crossing, Symba’s face expressed her fascination. Cephas absorbed what was said, with lines of concern etched across his forehead. Quill
on was stretched out in his chair, captivated.

  “What exactly are you asking of me?” Cephas said.

  “Part of our mission is to contact fairies inhabiting this world to ascertain their safety and well-being. Your name was given to us,” said Brigid.

  “We’ve also been asked to assess human–fairy relations and to see if the time is ripe for healing the rift between our peoples. Evidently, from our experience, that’s not the case,” said Treena.

  Quillon leaned forward. “Much of what you’ve seen suggests that humans are persecuting fairies,” he said. “But that’s only part of the picture. The present government, backed by certain powerful people and their voters, has a so-called health agenda which appeals to many. This agenda is a ruse which has led to the military infiltrating our society and the fairy population being detained. While some people support this action, not all humans agree. There are many of us in alliance with other races. We’ve been monitoring the military’s actions and we have evidence that they’re not just detaining fairies; they’re also experimenting on dwarfs, shape-shifters, and other populations that are not of purely human heritage.”

  “There are other races?” asked Brigid, her eyes wide in surprise.

  Symba responded. “For centuries they went unnoticed because they lived in remote places. As humanity expanded into their territories, they were identified. Periods of persecution ebbed and flowed, as with the fairy population. When our people migrated to the Fairy Realm, they lost exposure to these other races.”

  “I wonder why the visiting priests didn’t talk about them?” said Brigid, sipping her coffee.

  “Perhaps we have some prejudice of our own,” Treena said.

  “Most races kept to themselves, trying not to be noticed,” said Cephas. “It’s only been in the last decade that we’ve begun to contact each other.”

  “Quillon has been a significant connector between races. Using his wealth and dancing excursions as a cover, he’s been able to covertly share information and form alliances,” said Symba, flashing a proud smile at her friend.

  “That circles back to the prophecy,” said Evander.