by N. K. Vir
Kat rolled her eyes as she grabbed a fist full of Duncan’s shirt pulling his attention away from the siren. “Don’t encourage her,” Kat hissed. “Mandy’s not a siren she’s just a bitch in heat.”
Duncan shrugged; at least he understood what that reference meant. The group was laughing now and Duncan realized that he was enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed friendly companionship or a good ribald joke at the expense of a bar wench. He almost felt – human. The strong ale in his glass was warming his insides allowing him to relax and almost feel comfortable, more like the man he used to be instead of the Faeriedae he had been for the last couple of earthly centuries. He allowed himself a small satisfied smile. The he realized they were all silently staring at him.
He paused, glass hallway to his lips. “What?” he said into his glass before swallowing a healthy amount.
“Nothing,” Griffin said quickly looking away.
“Whatever this is,” Kat said circling a hand around his face. “Hold on to it and show it to Annie. You look-“
“Human,” Robert finished for her. “Less intimidating and scary.”
“I am not intimidating,” Duncan said scowling into his beer.
Kat reached up and rubbed the scowl away with her fingers. “Stop that,” she chided. “You’ll get wrinkles.”
“I don’t think the Fae get wrinkles Kat,” Griffin pointed out.
“Does that mean Annie can’t get them either?”
“I don’t think Goddess’ get them either,” Griffin said patting Kat’s hand while she pouted.
“So which Goddess is she?” Robert asked leaning forward resting his chin on his hand.
“She is beauty, love and life,” Duncan said simply. “We call her the life spark. She is the new moon, the maiden of the three with all the power and beauty of summer.”
“Oh-my-god! She’s A-“
“Robert,” Griffin said sharply cutting the younger man off. “Names have power. You will not evoke the name of a deity here.”
Robert cringed and Duncan nodded gratefully at Griffin. The bear-like man nodded back.
“Okay, so I get that she’s the ‘Life Spark’,” Robert said using air quotes. “But how does,” he leaned in closer and lowered his voice, “a Sidhe Goddess end up trapped in a mortal body? And how do we, you know, release her?”
Duncan sat back and sighed. “These are only two questions there are many more.”
“Like who and why,” Griffin added.
Duncan nodded in agreement and was struck suddenly by how intelligent and trusting these three mortals were. Many of the Fae thought the mortals in the natural world were little more than a parasite in need of squashing. A few, very few actually, had been championed or befriended by the Fae. This small percentage of the population looked outside of themselves striving to leave their world in a better place than when they found it. They respected the natural world and the blessings mother earth bestowed on them; and most important to the proud Sidhe, they kept to the old ways. These three mortals in front of him were worthy, and for that he was extremely thankful. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Battle Crow for giving him such wonderful beings as these as allies.
“The why,” he explained, “is easy! The veil that separates the natural world and the Otherworld is failing. Without the combined magick of the maiden, mother and crone it will fail. If the veil falls the balance in the universe will tip and the Unseelie will have free access to the Otherworld. Darkness will creep back into both worlds and neither the Sidhe nor mortal man will have the power to beat that evil again. It almost destroyed the Tuatha de Danann the first time.”
“Which is why they withdrew from the world when the sons of Mil invaded,” Robert stated finishing the tale.
“Yes,” Duncan said impressed. He wondered if they knew of their own history as well as they knew the history of the Sidhe.
“That answers the why,” Griffin stated. “What about the rest?” At that question all three faces turned to him eager for more information. He took another long draw on his drink debating on how much more he should tell them. Should he explain how powerless and blind even the Battle Queen was?
If there was a power out there to capture and imprison a bhanphriosa of the royal house would it not just be a snap of a finger to enchant one of these mortal minds? His instincts quickly told him no. The Seelie and Unseelie both saw mortals as inferior, and in the end that could prove to be the undoing of this evil plot. His gut and his trust won out in the end and he decided to tell them has much as he could; but first they needed to acknowledge the danger and embrace their own power and history.
“I promise to tell all that I know with certain conditions, of course.” He looked each of them in the eye until they nodded their assent. He couldn’t help but think each one of them thought they had just sold their souls to the devil. It showed their determination and desire to protect their friend; and made Duncan sure he had made the right choice in trusting them.
“So are we now all warriors for the Sidhe?” Robert asked puffing out his chest.
“I’m a pacifist,” grumbled Griffin.
“You,” Duncan said pointing a finger in Griffin’s direction. “You are a protector.” The other man raised two shaggy brown brows. His green eyes stared back at Duncan unflinchingly. “I saw that enchantment you wove. I watched you call upon the mist and shroud Annie’s house with your protection. You are an important asset.”
Griffin didn’t answer instead Kat spoke softly to him. “I forgot to tell you I heard they arrested him today. My neighbor Jason came into the shop today to tell me. He said the whole neighborhood watched as the hauled that little shit off in handcuffs.”
Griffin grunted and sat up a little straighter. “Protector huh?” he said smiling down at Kat with a mixture of pride and love shining in his eyes. Duncan envied their bond. Soon, he promised himself.
“You,” he said pointing to Kat. “Are power in a small package. You are an energy source that has the ability to magnify emotions and intents. Together you make a formidable team. Your goddess of love did well in pairing you two together.”
She squeezed Griffin’s hand and he smiled lovingly back at her. “After this I might have to thank another Goddess for bringing us together,” she said still looking up at Griffin.
“Annie introduced them” Robert said rolling his eyes. “What about me?” he asked impatiently.
“You,” he said with a wicked grin, “are the- how do you put it? Wildcard?” Robert nodded eagerly at him. Of course Robert was also the one he was most worried about. For this age he was so young. Given more time and training Robert could pose a serious threat. He was so sure of himself, so ready; traits that could lead to ultimate bravery or ultimate stupidity. With Annie’s life and the fate of the Seelie on the line Duncan hoped Robert’s heritage would prove to be stronger than his reckless youth.
“So what am I?”
“You are like me and like them. You are a warrior, a descendant of one the Riders who fell in love with one of your ancestors.” Duncan watched as the younger man’s jaw hit the table.
All three faces stared at Duncan in shock. Griffin was the first to recover. His protective nature rising to the surface he attempted to shield Robert. “How could you possibly know this?” he demanded.
“Because Finn is one of the few people in the Otherworld I would trust with my life,” he stated simply.
“Wait I thought you were immortal?” Kat interjected.
“Even an immortal isn’t immortal,” Griffin said his eyes never leaving Duncan’s. “Even the Sidhe have a weakness.
“Finn?” Robert whispered weakly.
“Yes that Finn,” Duncan said with emphasis. “Finn never could pass up a pretty face. My own mother included.” He added.
At that Robert’s head snapped up “We’re- we’re brothers?” Robert stuttered.
Duncan nodded, “Yes, Finn was, is a great warrior the Sidhe have always show
n favor to his offspring. My tale is old but yours is just beginning. You can either accept you lineage or not. I cannot say it is an easy choice. He does leave rather large footprints. But his offspring do tend to leave their own mark,” he admitted with a slight wince.
“How so?” Robert asked with suspicion in his eyes.
“Have you ever heard of Oisin?” Duncan asked.
“O’sheen,” Griffin repeated trying to recall the name.
“Yeah, I think so. Why does that name sound so familiar?” Robert asked.
Duncan waited for them to puzzle it out. It was Kat who found the answer first. “That’s the story Annie’s father used to tell her all the time. I remember because one night, over a very large bottle of wine,” she added for reference. “She told me the story and how messed up she thought it was. You have to understand,” she said turning to Duncan. “Girls of our generation grew up with Disney princesses. A handsome prince, the happily ever after bit; the tale of Oisin has the potential to end that way but doesn’t.
“No it does not,” Duncan agreed.
“I don’t know that story,” Robert said.
“It goes something like this,” Kat began.
“Finn and his warriors were out and about and this beautiful Faerie rides up to them points at one man in the party and says she is in love with him and she has come to take him to the Otherworld. He will never grow sick, he will never die and they can be together forever.” Kat wiggled in her chair and paused to take a sip of her beer. “Well of course the guy agrees and goes riding off into the sunset with her. Happily ever after right? Wrong!” She yelled then winced when a couple of other patrons focused on their small group. Kat mouthed and apology to the surrounding tables before continuing.
“After a while Oisin gets bored and he misses Finn and his adventures and wants to visit him for just a little while promising to return. So the Faerie princess gives Oisin a horse and warns him not to get off. So once the fool gets back do you know what happens?”
“He gets off his horse,” Robert said enthralled with tale.
“Actually I think he falls of the horse or something,” Kat said waving her hands like it’s an insignificant part of the tale. “Anyways he like ages instantly. Now he’s like three hundred years old. Finn is no more and he is brought old and broken to Saint Patrick. Who he tells all about Finn and his lost love and how stupid he was yada, yada, yada.”
“So then what happens?” Robert asks
“Nothing, zip, nada the guy dies and that’s it. See what I mean no happy ending. Who tells their kid a story like that?” Kat said slamming her hand on the table as she polished off the rest of her beer.
“A father who wants his daughter to remember something right O’sheen?” Griffin said staring at Duncan.
“Perhaps,” Duncan admitted still uneasy about such and obvious truth.
“Why is he calling you Oisin, Duncan?” Kat asked the look on her face changing from confusion to understanding. “Are you Oisin?” she demanded.
“Like all legends the story holds a kernel of truth,” he replied.
“That’s not really an answer is it?” Griffin challenged.
“No,” Duncan admitted. “I suppose it is really not.” But only Duncan was aware of the truth, the real truth behind the legend; and he was just about to explain the real story when Annie burst through the door. Her eyes were frantic; her hair windblown, escaping in tendrils of golden red that feel around her face which was flushed with excitement. She spotted her friends and rushed over to their table.
“You guys are never gonna believe what I saw,” she exclaimed.
Duncan shot to his feet scanning the windows for any sign of danger. When he saw none he slowly sank into his seat; but not before Griffin’s eyes noticed his defensive posture.
As he glanced at the other man Duncan noticed Griffin relax a quick look crossed his face, and in that moment Duncan knew any doubts he may have had about him had vanished. Duncan had earned the trust of the protector.
“What? What did you see?” Duncan heard Robert ask Annie. His eyes remained fixed on Griffin, who nodded slightly at Duncan before turning his attention on Annie.
Annie had ignored Robert’s question opting to instead grab the fullest beer on the table; which happened to be Duncan’s and down it in one long swallow. By this time Kat was bouncing excitedly in her seat. Annie held up a finger asking silently for a moment to finish Duncan’s beer. When she finished every last drop in the glass she slammed the glass down on the table and called for another round. Stealing a chair from a neighboring table she quickly fell into the chair.
“I saw Giles Corey’s ghost,” she announced to the table.
The entire table let out a horrified gasp. Duncan was the only one who failed to grasp the significance of Annie’s declaration.
Four sets of disbelieving eyes locked onto Duncan as he innocently asked “Who is Giles Corey?”
Chapter Nine
The Legend of Giles Corey
“Only a portend of death,” Robert said in awe his gaze flicking nervously around the table.
“Robert,” Griffin growled his voice issuing a warning.
Robert ignored him. “What I’m just saying what we all are thinking.”
“No,” corrected Kat. “You’re just picking the scariest legend.”
Annie ignored her friends as their debate raged on, their voices all mingled together. She needed another drink. She got the bartender’s attention and silently ordered more drinks for the table. She shifted in her seat to turn back to the table and noticed Duncan was watching her. Something in his gaze made her stomach flip and her heart began to beat wildly in her chest. She opened her mouth to say something, but he beat her to it, his words were quiet, spoken so softly that she had to concentrate hard to hear them above the noisy bar.
“Who is Giles Corey mo chroi?”
She heard a loud clunk as a glass was placed down, hard, in front of her. She ignored the waitress who gave her a nasty look, Annie ignored her friends sitting now silently around her; she ignored everything but that voice and those last words. His eyes locked on to hers and no matter how hard she tried she could not look away from the storm raging in those eyes. Her mouth went dry. She blindly reached for her glass, took a long swallow, and replaced it on the table. Her tongue darted quickly across her lips. His eyes dropped to her mouth effectively breaking the staring contest.
“He’s a ghost, a legend,” she said finding her voice now that his eyes had released hers. His eyes lingered on her mouth. “He was accused of witchcraft in 1692 but refused to speak so,” she said pausing to wet her dry lips again. Annie couldn’t be sure but she swore she heard a soft groan escape Duncan. She tried hard to ignore it. She turned away from him finding it easier to focus on her words if she stared at anything else; she settled on the wet ring her beer glass left on the table.
“They pressed him to death,” Robert finished for her. Annie didn’t try to hide her snicker. Robert hated silence and anything left unfinished, especially if he could be the one to end it. He had a bad habit of spoiling a good joke or in this case a good story. “More weight,” he croaked dramatically. Annie chuckled at Robert’s theatrics.
“He looked so real,” she said more to herself than to anyone else.
“How so?” Duncan asked.
She wanted to look at him, badly, but she refused to allow her eyes to move. Her mind drifted back to the tour. Most of the walk had been uneventful. The group had been small, the questions had been few; and Annie was beginning to think she had dodged a bullet by getting a quick and easy ghost tour. There was just one stop left, the Howard Street Cemetery. There were two cemeteries on the tour the Old Burying Point had never bothered her. It was peaceful with its big ancient trees and graveled paths. At one point the ocean used to lap against the stonewall that encircled the graveyard. Annie had always imagined it would have been a beautiful spot to be laid to rest. The Howard Street Cemetery was different. It wa
s newer, like a constant reminder of death. At some point a jail had been erected adjacent to the cemetery, a jail, which if rumors were true, had been a place of unspeakable horrors. The area reeked of evil and darkness, and it all traced back to Giles Corey.
Giles Corey had not been a hero of the witch trials. He had seen an opportunity and allowed his greed to rule his destiny. He had been a powerful and wealthy man; but even with all that power he had not been immune to the witch hunters. First to fall was his wife; he did nothing to stop them, refusing to speak on her behalf at her trial. He had too much to lose on the earthly plane to try and save her soul, so the hangman took her. When the accusations turned against him he refused to enter a plea and was ordered pressed until he would offer one.
Even with all that weight pressing down on his frail elderly body he refused to speak. As stone after stone was place upon him he remained mute. Before the stone that would take his life was placed on his chest he muttered a curse, placing it on the sheriff who over saw his torture.
“You and those after you shall choke on your own blood as death and the devil takes you to hell!” Then, he said the more famous words: “more weight.”
His curse worked, weeks later the sheriff was dead after choking on his own blood. Ever since then Salem had never been able to keep a sheriff in office as all of them seemed to die in a similarly bizarre way. All this had occurred on the plot of land where the Howard Street Cemetery now stood.
Annie had relayed the same tale to her tour. She remembered the cold chill that had raced up her spine as one of the tourists gasped and pointed. Annie’s eyes had moved in that direction and what she saw had left her cold and terrified. Fifty feet away stood the small stooped figure of a balding old man. His long thinning hair stuck to his skeletal like face his eyes the seemed to…
“Glow,” Annie whispered shaking her head. “His eyes they seemed to glow like embers. He just stood there looking at us. He had something in his hands; I couldn’t see what it was at first.” She remembered the tourists snapping pictures. Her eyes blinked rapidly at all the flashing and clicking, then she saw it. “It was a hat. He just stood there. The group was snapping pictures then he-“ Annie’s voice trailed off.