by Darian Smith
Moana leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. “There’s a reason Emma was a kuia so young. She had a hereditary job to do. Her role was to maintain the gateway to rarohenga, to the spirit world. Every month she went into the bush and performed a ripa to keep the gateway closed. Our family has done this for generations. We are the keepers of that gate. We have to protect this land and keep the thing the O’Neills brought with them trapped. That’s what your wife was doing. That’s why she was in such a damn hurry to get home when she died.”
“But...how did you know?” Nate had never told anyone that Emma had been speeding when her car was hit by the truck. He’d never wanted her family to think less of her or feel angry at her over the accident.
Moana snorted. “I found out everything I could when she died. I hoped she would have prepared in case something happened to her. She was the only one who knew how to...” Her voice trailed off.
“So you invaded our privacy for your superstitions,” Nate said. It was hard to keep the anger out of his voice.
“They’re not superstitions,” Moana insisted. Her finger stabbed at the air in front of her. “That family brought something unnatural to New Zealand with them and we’ve kept it trapped ever since. But a lot of our knowledge died with Emma. Abigail and I are the only ones left to maintain the gate now. We have to stop that O’Neill woman from releasing a dangerous atua.”
“Are you serious? You’re picking on an innocent, lovely woman because of a family myth? And you want to teach my daughter to do the same?” His skin felt hot and prickly.
“She’s far from innocent,” Moana said. “She and all her kind are a freak of nature and should never have been allowed here. Her ancestors brought the creature with them when they came here and her presence has awakened it. Without my sister’s knowledge, our ways are weakened but we must stop it breaking free. I will do what must be done.”
Nate stared at her. “You’re crazy,” he said. “And you will leave my daughter and Sara O’Neill alone if you know what’s good for you.”
Moana was breathing hard. Her eyes wild. “She’s bewitched you!” Spittle flew from her lips as she spoke. “You’re a fool if you think she hasn’t. She’s a dangerous freak and should never have been allowed to come back to Kowhiowhio.”
Nate drew himself up to his full height. “I don’t care what kind of freak she is. I’ll not have you spreading such lies about someone I care about. And I certainly won’t have you filling Abigail’s head with this nonsense. Sara O’Neill has had a very hard life up 'til now. She’s lost a child and she’s been abused. She does not need your bullshit monster stories making her life worse.”
Moana opened her mouth to answer but he cut her off.
“You need to get out of my house, Moana. Now.”
The woman’s dark eyes widened in shock, but she quickly covered it and haughtily picked up her coat. “Oh, I’ll go,” she said. “But you mark my words. If your new girlfriend sets free the creature her ancestors brought with them, it won’t just be her life that gets worse. Our whole country will suffer.” She stalked to the door and paused on the threshold. “There will be more deaths at that O’Neill house, Nate. You just see if there aren’t.” Then she disappeared outside.
Nate frowned, a chill in his chest at her words. “What do you mean by that, Moana?” He called after her. When there was no answer, he followed her outside. She was already disappearing down the road. “Moana? What did you mean by that?”
She ignored him and kept walking.
Nate sighed and turned to go back into the house and his eyes caught sight of something pink on the steps. It was Abigail’s backpack.
“Oh God.” A jolt ran through him. The backpack hadn’t been there when he’d arrived. There was only one person who could have dropped it off. He ran to the gate and looked in the other direction, towards the O’Neill house. “Sara? Sara!”
She ignored him as well, her slim figure disappearing into the overgrown grass.
“Damn it!” He swore and kicked the ground. How much had she heard?
Enough to be offended, of that much he was sure. He sighed and went back inside to his daughter.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sara slammed the door behind her and leaned on it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Nate’s words played over in her mind. He’d called her a freak and told Moana about her past. Why had she been stupid enough to tell him about her history with Greg and the baby? How could she start fresh if people here all knew about her past and talked about it behind her back?
She sighed, pushed off from the door and walked slowly down the hall. It served her right for eavesdropping. Not that she’d intended to hear their argument. She’d only paused a moment to see if it was a good time to drop off Abigail’s backpack. It was old instinct to gauge the state of the people in a room before entering. Raised voices or a feeling of rage had always meant danger with Greg.
Nate was a completely different man to her ex. She knew that. But still she’d run away from him like a scared little girl and made a fool of herself once again.
“Typical,” she muttered.
As she walked into the dining room a flicker of movement caught her eye. Bridget’s ghost stood by the table, her form transparent, but her face stern. The journal lay in front of her, open.
Sara started, her heart tight in her chest. She took a deep breath to calm herself and faced the ghost. “You again. I thought you were ignoring me.”
Transparent arms raised up towards her and the pages of the journal fluttered as if in a strong breeze. “Beware.” The ghost’s whispery voice sent shivers up Sara’s spine. “Do not trust him.”
A surge of annoyance ran through her. Distrust was not something she needed lessons in. “Who? Nate? Listen, just because your relationship went belly up, doesn’t mean I need you spooking over my shoulder, messing up mine.” She looked away for a moment and bit her lip. “Not that my track record is any better,” she admitted.
“Read my words,” said Bridget.
The journal pages settled.
Sara reached across the table and pulled the book towards her. “To be honest, there hasn’t been that much of interest in here so far.”
“Read.” Bridget’s image pulsed, almost tangible for an instant, then back to transparency once more.
“Fine, fine.” Sara gritted her teeth and looked at the journal. The words seemed to jump off the page at her.
I’m so scared of what Jereth will do to me. The power he displayed in the forest was terrifying. He will kill us all if he gets the chance, I know he will. I can’t believe I was ever foolish enough to think he loved me. All of his kind are cruel and deceitful and violent. How could he be any different?
Sara pulled her eyes away from the page. She recognized the emotion in those words all too well. The fear. Fear of a man that she loved. Bridget had gone through the same kind of terror that she herself had experienced with Greg.
“Read,” said the ghost. She was closer now, standing next to Sara, pointing at the book.
“No.” Sara shook her head and stepped back. This was why she’d left everything behind. This was why she’d refused the counsellor’s offer of a support group or women’s refuge. There was no way she wanted to relive someone else’s experience of terror and abuse at the hands of a man. She could barely keep clear of her own. It had taken her years to leave it behind. She could not – would not – take on more.
“Read,” demanded Bridget. The journal pages fluttered again, like a frightened bird’s wings in a cage.
“No!” Sara felt all the anger, all the rage, all the humiliation of her life with Greg come rushing up from the depths of her soul like some tsunami of emotion. She would not be bullied any more. She would make her own decisions. She’d had enough of living in fear. “Enough! If you have something you want me to know, then tell me. Show me!”
She thrust out her hand to push the other woman back. Her arm passed through the ghost’s form, a chil
l tingle on her skin. The engagement ring she still wore on her finger burned hot and light spread out from the gemstone.
Bridget screamed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The colours of the room melted together then spread glowing sparks of light in cascading showers. Sara’s arm tingled as though she’d gripped hold of an electric fence and couldn’t let go. Bridget’s screams echoed in her head, louder and louder, then, abruptly, they were gone.
The spill of colours resolved into a scene of two women in the woods. Sara knew somehow that she was watching memories.
The women were hunched down in a circular clearing, marked by smooth river stones. One was an old woman, her grey hair tied back in a bun. The other was young, perhaps nineteen or so. When she turned her face slightly, Sara realized it was Bridget, decades before her death, in the prime of youth. Several cats were scattered around the clearing, drawn by the magic here. They lay in the grass or pounced on insects.
“Nan, are you sure this is a good idea?” The young Bridget fidgeted as they sat, waiting. Her voice as a living girl was much stronger than her ghost self and the Irish accent thick. “You’ve always told me the fae were not to be trifled with.”
The older woman nodded. “Aye, that’s true. But you’ve heard your father. There’s nothing left for us here. We’re better to try our luck in a new part of the world and that’s dangerous. If we can make a deal with the fair folk, we can gain their protection.”
As Sara watched, a shimmer of light appeared in the centre of the circle. It expanded to the size of a doorway and then vanished, leaving behind a tall, incredibly beautiful man. His hair was golden and down to his shoulders, his eyes were green like oak leaves in spring. Vines and leaves wrapped around his limbs, climbed around his body and formed a crown on his brow. He held out a hand and a ball of twisting, crackling lightning formed there. He bounced it idly on his palm as he stared at the two women on the grass.
“Madam O’Neill,” he said in a voice as deep and earthy as tree roots. “Why have you summoned me?”
The older woman stood and bowed her head in greeting. Bridget scooted backward a few steps. Sara could feel the shiver of awe that ran through the younger woman.
“My lord Jereth of the forest,” Bridget’s Nan began. “We are both of an old time and old ways but this world is beginning anew. My granddaughter and I wish to propose an arrangement between our family and yours, so that both our peoples can thrive in the new world.”
The fae lord stared into the ball of lightning in his hand. “Why should I be concerned about what humans call a new world?”
The old woman shrugged. “Iron.”
Jereth looked up sharply. “What about it?”
“There’s too much of it in the world these days. Too much for both of us by far. Progress and industry are spreading iron and other metals throughout our country. Machines and electricity are taking jobs from honest men and the metal that goes with them are a problem for your kind’s magic. There will be less iron in the new countries across the sea. Your people would be safe there. We could help you get there.”
He tilted his head to one side. “An interesting proposal. What would you desire in return?”
“Protection for the trip,” Bridget’s Nana said. “And help establishing a new home. We want a fresh start. My son has no work here anymore.”
Jereth laughed, a sound like a rockslide of precious stones. “And the people in your village have named you witch. They see the signs of magic around you. The cats that flock to your side, the parsley that grows like wildfire in your garden. They are afraid of you. This new, modern world is more dangerous for you than it is for us.”
“Really?” The old woman pulled out a metal rod and stuck it point first into the earth. The ball of lightning leapt from Jereth’s palm and struck the rod, sizzling into the dirt and burning the grass around it. “Iron hurts your powers. You fae manipulate energy and there’s too much energy and iron in this new industrial world.” She gestured to the circle of stones. “The fae can only enter the human world through these special portals and there are fewer and fewer of them all the time. Before long, you will be trapped in your own realm. Will that be enough for you? Denied the power and beauty of this world? I don’t believe that it will be.”
The fae lord scowled. “Perhaps.”
“Protect me and my family on our journey to New Zealand and we will create a portal for you there. A circle in a new country. A fresh, unsullied country with no metal machines, no towns, and where yours is the only energy to be manipulated. It will be just like the old days for your kind.”
Jereth looked from her to Bridget and back again. Sara felt the thrill in Bridget as the fae’s gaze met hers. “Very well. I agree. I will come with you on your journey. We will work and create opportunity for us both in this new country you speak of. When do we leave?”
The scene split apart into sparks once more and swirled like embers in the wind. They reformed, creating shapes and figures. Bridget and Jereth, standing on the beach at sunset. Kauri and punga formed a backdrop in the dwindling sunlight. A large sailboat was at anchor in the bay and several longboats shared space with waka on the shore.
“We can’t hide this from my family much longer,” said Bridget. “There will be nowhere to hide when we begin building our new home.”
Jereth nodded. “I know, my love. When the circle is created and I can speak to my people again, we will face them both together.”
Bridget sighed. “Do you think it will be very difficult to convince them? Surely when they realize how much we care for each other...”
“I do not know, Bridget. All I know is that I will not live my life without you. The time we spent on that unbearable ship was crafted into a thing of beauty because of your presence. I never thought I would love a human, but now I cannot think of loving anyone but you.” He pulled a ring from his pocket and held it out to her. “My dearest Bridget, I know I must get the permission of your family and my own, but first I must ask for your own heart. Will you wear my ring? Will you be my bride?”
Bridget clapped her hands together, her eyes wide and moist. Sara could feel the girl’s elation. “Yes! Oh, of course, Jereth. Yes!”
He smiled, lips parting just enough to show canines more sharply pointed than most human’s. “You have made me very happy, my love. When you wear this ring, know that it was made in a fae smithy and the gem is crafted in the other realm. It holds the key to my heart and my power. Wear it and I will be with you always. My magic is yours to command now, as well as your own. It is the best I can do to protect you from all harm.”
“Thank you, my love.” Bridget stood on her toes and kissed him.
Jereth slipped the ring onto her finger. Sparks fountained around them like sea spray and they laughed, a happy, delighted sound, and walked into the trees hand in hand.
The spray of sparks swirled again and the scene changed once more.
Bridget and her Nan dug into the earth, scooping handfuls of dirt with their bare hands. The pit was a perfect circle. When the rains came, it would fill with water. Saplings were already planted at the points of the compass and key-stones placed around the edge. The magic of the portal hummed just on the outer edge of the world, nearly close enough to touch.
As the sun came out from behind a cloud, something on Bridget’s finger caught the light.
Her grandmother snatched her hand and rubbed away the dirt. “What’s this?”
Bridget tried to pull her hand away, but the old woman’s grip was strong.
“That’s a fae ring. Did Jereth give you this?”
Bridget lifted her chin. “Yes.”
Nan dropped her hand as if it burned. “What have I always told you about accepting gifts from fae? You fool. You have no idea what you’ve been bound to by taking it.”
“But I love him.” Bridget reached for her grandmother, pleading for her to understand. “And he loves me. We’re going to be married. I wanted to tell
you and Papa about it but Jereth needs to talk to his people first. Oh, Nan, I’m so happy!”
“Aye,” the old woman snorted. “And the Spring lamb is happy ‘til the knife’s at his throat. You’d best keep that ring hidden from your father.”
The sound of soft, ghostly sobs filled Sara’s ears as her vision was again obscured by swirling sparks of light. “Bridget?” she called gently. “What happened?”
The ghost continued to cry as the sparks cleared and the younger Bridget paced on the porch. The wood of the house was unpainted, newly hewn and hammered into place, sanded carefully smooth. There was dirt under the girl’s fingernails and she chewed on her lip and fiddled with the ring on her finger as she paced.
A young man sat on the porch steps and watched her, his face solemn. Sara somehow knew this was Bridget’s brother. Neither of them noticed the ghost’s sobs or Sara’s presence.
An older man burst out of the bush, running at full speed toward the house. “Help! Get help. We are betrayed!”
Bridget froze. “Papa? What happened? Where’s Jereth?”
Her father’s face was red and wet with sweat. “Jereth betrayed us. He’s killed your Nan and he’s bringing an army of fae through the portal to destroy us all!”
“What?” Sara could feel the paralyzing cold in Bridget’s veins. “No, Papa, no! He would never do such a thing!”
“See for yourself,” her father snapped. “Your Nan slowed him down, but he’s going to break free. Patrick, get the Maori woman. Now!”
The boy on the steps leapt to his feet and Bridget lurched forward. The scene dissolved into a blur of leaves as she ran, at last bursting out into the clearing with the portal.
In the centre of the circle, Jereth was frozen, half in and half out of the water, his body twisted and his beautiful face snarled with rage. Lightning crackled from his fist, spinning a web of burning power across the circle. It sizzled and twisted, making shadows dance among the trees. The water in the pool swirled around him. Lights like fireflies glowed beneath the surface.