The Prophecy

by Karen MacLeod-Wilkie

  Brigid nodded. “It does. I’m very thankful I met you, even if at first I thought I was going crazy being attracted to a man at least fifty years my senior!” She lightly punched him in the shoulder.

  Evander chuckled.

  Treena’s voice drifted across the breeze to them. “Hey, you two lovebirds. I know you’re out there somewhere. Time to come in, we have things to discuss.”

  Brigid called out, “On our way!” She looked at their crumpled clothing. “I guess it’s going to be nearly impossible to hide what’s going on between us.”

  “Do you feel the need to keep this quiet?” said Evander, gazing intently upon her.

  “Not at all,” said Brigid. “I’m just preparing myself for the ribbing that we’re sure to receive.”

  “How do you feel about sharing a room?”

  “I feel that’s a very practical choice,” Brigid replied.

  “Practical?” Evander looked up as he pulled on his jeans.

  “Yes, less laundry to deal with,” she grinned.

  Evander tossed her bra and blouse to her, offering to help her put them on.

  She batted his hands away. “We won’t make the meeting if you do that.”

  Dressed, but very disheveled, they returned to the house. Treena was in the kitchen making a pot of tea and waiting for them. She looked up as they entered, and a smile extended across her face. “Didn’t get enough exercise earlier, huh?” She arranged mugs onto a tray with the teapot. “We’re meeting in Quillon’s office. Thought we might all need a bit more sustenance.” She held up a plate of cookies. “If you’d like to take a few minutes, we’ll hold any important information until you arrive.”

  She breezed out.

  Brigid looked at Evander whose dark hair was a tangled mess and whose light-colored shirt was marked by bark stains. She suspected she didn’t look much better. They dashed to their rooms and did what they could in five minutes. Treena was just pouring the tea as they walked into Quillon’s office.

  ***

  Preparations

  Quillon sat in a rolling chair with his back to an array of computer monitors. Treena sat on the floor next to a round table. Symba was curled up on a comfy lounger.

  “We left you two the plush loveseat. We thought you’d enjoy the comfort.” Treena’s smile was slightly wicked.

  Brigid snatched up a mug and a cookie as she sauntered to the loveseat. “Why, thank you.”

  Evander eased down beside her and turned to Quillon. “What have you heard?”

  Quillon scanned their appearances before replying. “Gerarda wants to meet at two p.m. tomorrow. That’ll give us time to practice in the morning and get hiking gear packed to leave after an early lunch. It’s a thirty-minute drive and an hour-long hike to the caves where we’ll meet.”

  “I see you have a detailed map of this area,” said Treena, pointing to a wall-mounted map.

  “It’s from the local hiking society, indicating all the trail systems within and around the city. It shows the topography really well.”

  “Can you help familiarize us with the territory we’ll be traveling through? I like to fix in my mind where I’m going, so I can plan possible defensive strategies.”

  Quillon pointed out the land features, caves, trails, and waterways of the reserve they’d be hiking through. He indicated where his house was in relation to the reserve and provided a general layout of Greensburg: where the business district was located, shopping areas, housing developments, and so on.

  Evander retrieved his map and located Greensburg on it. He noted there was a fairy contact listed for Greensburg and pointed her out to the others. A name was provided this time: Shaina DeWinter.

  Quillon sat again, and his fingers danced over the computer’s keyboard. “My listing indicates she’s been deceased for five years. That’s why her name didn’t sound familiar to me. She used to own and run a Clean and Bright dry-cleaning service. Let me check who took it over.”

  His fingers went to work as his eyes scanned the screen. “Ah, Calvin Burn and his wife Colleen. I had to go back to Shaina’s obituary to see if there was a connection. Colleen is her daughter. I don’t recall her name on any of my lists. Of course, she could have taken care of her own background ages ago, before I came on the scene. Because fairies live for so long, it’s not unusual for them to pop up in different places with a new name. It’s situations like this one which make it difficult to know exactly who’s out there. I could try to trace back through her records, but it might take me an hour or so.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary; we know who she is through her mother,” Evander replied.

  “I suggest we wait to make contact with her. I’d like to meet with Gerarda first,” Quillon said to the group.

  “I’d like as much intel as possible, before we put ourselves or someone else in danger,” said Treena. “If the military found out about the portal, it’s possible they uncovered some of the fairy contacts forming our network as well.”

  “Neither Merry nor Cephas were named on the map, nor were their places of business. That’s likely because Merry’s family was previously stationed to greet travelers at the portal and would have directed them to Cephas as the first contact,” said Evander as he leaned forward with his elbows braced on his knees.

  “After that, travelers could choose a variety of directions in which they might go, so names or locations would need to be listed for contacts located further from the portal,” Treena mused.

  “What about the priests and guard who were taken recently? Wouldn’t they have had maps on them?” asked Brigid, anxiously clasping her necklace.

  “Hopefully they destroyed them.” Evander placed a calming hand on Brigid’s knee.

  “Some of those contacts may be people for whom I’ve already created new profiles,” Quillon said. “Yet, if they’re named or their business is identified, it could still get dicey for them. Evander, can you read some of the names from your map and I’ll see if I can find any recent action. We should have thought of this earlier.”

  Quillon worriedly turned back to the computer as Evander offered three names and two businesses from neighboring towns.

  “What can you tell us about dwarfs and shapeshifters?” Brigid inquired. “We came expecting to interact with humans and fairies. I have little knowledge of these other races.”

  “I can help with that,” said Symba as a wave of sadness swept over her face. “Remember my shapeshifter dancer friend who disappeared?”

  They nodded.

  “She was my roommate through college. Then, we rented an apartment together. We travelled back and forth to each other’s family celebrations. I learned about shapeshifters through her.”

  Everyone settled back into their seats to listen.

  “When a shapeshifter reaches sixteen years, a part of their genes begins to express, which enables them to shift into another form. So, they go through a ceremony in which they spend a day fasting. They hike through the woods, wherever they feel led to go. It’s believed they’ll meet whatever creature they’re meant to become in their second form. They meditate through the night. At dawn, they make a special tea and light a dawn fire. In the flames, they seek final confirmation of the form they’ll select for their shifting. Once their decision is made, they return to their family and a feast is offered, sharing foods in keeping with whatever form they’ve chosen. For the next two years, they’re paired with a mentor who guides them in shaping their cells to the alternative form and back again. The mentor helps them to develop the skills, abilities, and qualities of their second form. For example, if someone chooses a black bear, bears are known for their protective instincts toward their young. They may also be affectionate and playful. They’re devoted. A shapeshifter with these qualities might pursue a career in childcare. It’s after their two-year mentorship that they choose their career path.”

  “Wait a minute! A bear caring for human children—isn’t that dangerous?” Brigid leaned forward. />
  “Not at all. Bear traits are very suitable for childcare. Shapeshifters don’t normally shift around humans and, if they did, they retain their human awareness in their altered state.”

  “That’s good to know,” said Brigid as she gestured for Symba to continue.

  “The gene that enables them to shift also releases regenerative benefits when they shift. So, if they’re ill or injured in human form and shift to their second form, they quickly heal. This ability to heal is why they’ve been targeted.

  “Throughout history, shapeshifters have been viewed as less than human, instead of as humans with special gifts. Nainsi was a beautiful person—a graceful swan—and an incredible dancer. She only brought beauty to those around her.”

  Symba bowed her head. “Usually, we went to dance class together, but I was down with the flu. Quillon was away. She didn’t come home that night. In the morning, I called her cellphone, but there was no answer. I contacted other dance friends. They saw her leave but didn’t notice anything suspicious. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure who to trust. I didn’t know what to do. When Quillon returned, I dumped it all on him.”

  Treena placed a comforting hand over Symba’s restless ones. “It’s hard when tragedy touches those close to us.”

  “Frustration, powerlessness, fear, anger, loss…so many emotions,” said Brigid with tears rolling down her cheeks. “I feel it all still bubbling within you, Symba.”

  “I don’t know if she’s alive or not. But the memory of what was done to her keeps me motivated to do something and to not hide in fear.”

  Symba took a deep breath. “Many of the shapeshifters have slipped out of society and are hiding. They need safe places to shift. They need to change form at least once every few days to release the buildup of stored energy in their cells.”

  “They’re like the opposite of us,” Treena said. “We need to restore our energy from creation around us, while shapeshifters need to release their energy into the environment. Yet, both of us need safe places to be ourselves.”

  “Fascinating,” said Brigid.

  Quillon turned back to the group. “We’ve got trouble,” he said. “Of the businesses listed on your map Evander, one has closed down and the second is under new ownership—a retired medical researcher. The three contact names you have are people for whom I created new profiles. I’ve been able to trace two of them, but the third person has disappeared.”

  “They must have gotten one or more of the maps,” Treena concluded.

  “If the priests were ambushed as they came through the portal, they wouldn’t have had time to act,” Evander pointed out.

  “If the military has started picking up people you’ve covered for and discovered their profiles are false, can they trace it back to you?” Treena asked.

  “I’m good at what I do, but we can’t assume I’m the only one with this set of skills,” said Quillon.

  “We use codenames for ourselves when we make contact with people. We also go in disguise to protect our identities,” said Symba. “That way, if anyone is detained and questioned, their answers won’t lead to us.”

  “There’s nothing we can do about it tonight. I’ll spend another hour or two on these contacts from your map, but we need to rest before tomorrow,” said Quillon.

  “Before we meet with Gerarda, it’d be helpful to know about dwarfs,” said Brigid.

  “Sorry. We got side-tracked,” said Symba, resettling into her chair. “Dwarfs work in a different way. They have the ability to shape stone, minerals, and metals by melding their energy with the energy of the substance they’re shaping. Each dwarf tends to have an affinity for a particular substance. They learn first how to work with tools and how to feel and manipulate their body’s energy. After puberty, they’re tested by the elders to determine which guild they’ll be sent to apprentice with. Some tend to lean toward design, some toward construction. Others are jewelers. A few are dentists. They work in a variety of vocations but, if you check, usually there’s some aspect of their work that connects to metals, minerals, or stone.”

  “Their energy melding is very subtle, and its occurrence is not observable to the human eye,” said Quillon. “Because they neither have to store nor expend energy, but rather share it with the earth’s elements, they are a more resilient and longer-living race than others.”

  Brigid was curious. “How much longer?”

  “I’ve heard many live beyond two hundred years.”

  “Which is why they’ve been targeted for experimentation,” said Symba.

  “If their energy exchange is so discreet, how are they being detected?” asked Treena.

  “As a whole, their race tends to have a shorter, stockier build but, as with all races, there can be great variety of form. The significant tell is their eyes. Dwarfs have silver-colored eyes with a slight slant at the edge,” explained Symba.

  “We’ve tried using colored contact lenses with a thin silicone hydrogel material which can be inserted over the pupil of the eye,” said Quillon. “But as the military got more aggressive in their round-ups, anyone working in professions involving metals, minerals, or stone were vulnerable to questioning.”

  “Wouldn’t that raise suspicions with the general public?” asked Evander.

  “You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” said Symba. “However, the research team presented it as an integral part of the research for eradicating disease. A media blitz reported that exposure to certain minerals and metals could negatively affect one’s immune system. People who worked with such substances needed to be tested for their own protection. Testing was also mandatory in order to assess damaged genes which could be passed to future generations.”

  “Wow! I can understand why they went into hiding,” said Brigid, trying to hide a huge yawn. “I think I need to get some rest. My brain isn’t going to take in much more information tonight.”

  “I’d like to stay and give you a hand, Quillon,” Evander offered. “I can’t operate a computer, but there must be something I can do.”

  “I’d appreciate the help. I can set up search parameters on multiple units if you watch for results. We’ll be able to cover more information that way,” said Quillon.

  Treena hauled herself up from the floor. “Okay ladies,” she said. “Let’s get an early night and we’ll take breakfast duty in the morning. Agreed?”

  Symba and Brigid joined her on the way out. They discussed when to get started and menu ideas for breakfast.

  They arrived at Symba’s bedroom first. She gave warm hugs as she wished the other two a good night. “I’m so glad you’re here with us! It doesn’t feel so overwhelming as when it was just the two of us.”

  Treena threw her arm over Brigid’s shoulder as they reached Brigid’s room. “Are you going to tell?”

  A dreamy look washed over Brigid’s face. “Oh, I might be persuaded to do that.”

  They heard a sound.

  Symba arrived behind them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I remembered that you might want some fresh clothes for tomorrow.”

  “A huge yes to the clothes,” said Brigid warmly. “And don’t worry, you’re not interrupting. Treena’s probing for salient details of my garden interlude. I’m inclined to share if you’d like to join us.”

  Symba beamed. “Why don’t you two check out the dresser and closet in here.” She opened another bedroom door. “Quillon’s sister accumulates more than I could wear in a year and this is just one of their houses. I believe she buys so much so that she can readily share with friends in a way that they don’t feel uncomfortable. Isleen also supports up-and-coming designers to help them get noticed. She always has things in all sorts of colors and sizes. She never minds sharing, so help yourselves. I’ll go snag us some wine and a stash of chocolate-covered almonds that I noticed in the cupboard earlier. A juicy story deserves appropriate accompaniment.”

  Treena dramatically put her hand to her hea
rt. “Ah, a woman after my own heart. Wine and chocolate—food for the gods.”

  Symba snickered and dashed down the stairs. Brigid pushed Treena into the bedroom, eager to get to the clothes. When she opened the closet door, Brigid gasped. It was a deep walk-in closet with racks and shelves brimming with beautiful clothing. A plum-colored sweater caught her eye. She looked at the tag which read cashmere and Lycra. It felt incredibly soft between her fingers. The Lycra meant it would stretch well over her figure. She couldn’t resist and hauled it on. It was snug at the breasts and then flowed down past her hips in a flirty drape that gave lots of room for her curvy hips. It felt super comfortable. She stepped out and Treena looked up.

  “I know this won’t do for hiking, but I just had to try it on,” Brigid confessed.

  “Looks great on you. We’ll need clothing for a variety of situations, not just hiking. This will save us shopping time,” said Treena.

  Symba came through the door and saw Brigid in front of the mirror. “You look gorgeous in that plum color. Have you found anything else?”

  She set down the glasses and poured the wine through an aerator.

  “I’m not sure what we’ll need, and I don’t want to be greedy. These clothes are beautiful,” said Brigid, practically drooling.

  “Money’s no issue for Quillon’s family. They’re multimillionaires and his dad keeps making more through his various businesses. Isleen would be glad to have you find things you like. Let’s create a mixed wardrobe for each of us, including hiking gear.”

  Symba passed them each a glass of wine. “To home shopping compliments of Isleen. Cheers!”

  They clinked glasses.

  An hour later, they each had a pile of clothing. Isleen had plenty of strapless bras and tanks that would accommodate their wings. The three sat on the floor by their finds, with the last of the wine and chocolate between them.

  “I’ve been very patient,” said Treena, casually crossing her legs.

  “Hmm, patient isn’t a descriptor I’d give you.” Brigid grinned.