*~*~*
Aloysius Callaghan slumped down onto the bench in the laundry room next to Aiofe's holster. His ax clunked noisily as he propped it against the washing machine. His bright red cheeks puffed more than usual as he blew out a gust of frustration. Groaning, he leaned over and propped his elbows on his knees, cupping his head in his hands. A light step echoed on the tiles a moment before gentle fingers brushed through his white hair. He slipped his arm around his wife's waist and pulled her to his side, burying his head in her damp apron.
"I don't know what to do anymore, Mo. She feels the pull, but I can't go out with her like I used to. And I'm not letting her go out alone. I lost my daughter. I'm not losing my granddaughter, too."
Maureen Callaghan leaned over to kiss the crown of her husband's head. "I know, my darling Alo. I'm not sure there's anything we can do. She's going to go out, whether you go with her or not. All we can do is make sure she is prepared for the worst and be there to support her in any way we can. We should talk to the other hunters and see if anyone would be willing to partner with her. Maybe David, since Martin is getting married soon."
The old man leaned back to prop his head against the wall, keeping his hands on his wife's thighs. His face was worn with nearly seven decades of hard work, of carrying the weight of life and death on his shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe. They get along, but he's not the one. Not really, and you know how it is. I hope she finds him soon, though. She almost died today, Mo. She would have had I not followed her when I saw her leave. She was hunting that Ulmus that was spotted in the area. He was stronger than I expected, his bark much older than most. Must have been one of the ancients. They're getting braver."
He pulled away his hands and picked up the holster as Maureen took a seat beside him, her quiet strength settling his nerves. He played with the clasp on the gun holder, snapping it shut and pulling it apart again. It required more force than it should have. Frowning, he looked closer. One of the pieces had been deformed, flattened just enough to make it catch on the inside of the other. "Must have happened when the Ulmus tackled her," he mumbled.
"Did you see him attack?" Maureen stiffened beside Alo, her voice soft, holding just a hint of the fear he knew she felt.
He shook his head. "No. She had a head start and once she picked up the trail, they moved too quickly. I lost her several times and had to retrace my steps. By the time I found them, he had her on the ground." He glanced over at his wife. Her eyes were glistening brightly, tears threatening to fall. He gave her a half-hearted smile. "I'm sure she would have been fine without my help, anyway. I'll just get this fixed and work on self defense with her a bit more, and it will be just fine." He reached over and squeezed her knee, forcing a full smile. It broke his heart to lie to the woman who had been his anchor all of his adult life, but there was no sense in having her worked into a state of worry over something that couldn't be changed.
"I talked to Johnny O'Brien yesterday," he said as he slipped off his jacket and hung it on a peg near the door. He kept his voice light, trying to brighten his wife's mood before Aiofe could destroy it at dinner. "Grainne is recovering from her stroke nicely. He said she should be back home by the end of the month."
He glanced at his wife as he pulled off his boots and noticed her staring at his ax. He fought to hold back a grin. She hated it when he left his dirty weapons lying around. He wandered into the kitchen, leaving the ax where it sat, sap pooling on the white tiles beneath it. If she was fretting about trivial matters such as those, she would have less time to worry about the really bad things that were happening.
For months now, faeries had been growing braver, crossing the border between Faery and the human world despite a centuries-long decree from the Four Queens to remain in their own land. There had always been those who ignored the rule, hence the reason for the hunters, but the number had been increasing exponentially in the recent decade. Reports were coming in from hunters all over the globe. Generations of families trained to hunt the law-breakers were being wiped out. The demand was too great and those left couldn't keep up.
"Oh, good. I think I'll bake up some muffins and take them over later this week. The poor man must be famished. His daughter is an awful cook, worse than you. I bet he's been living on boiled peas and canned soup since his wife's attack."
Alo smiled and kissed his wife's forehead, even as he swatted her behind. "That would be lovely. Just make sure you let me test them first. Just to be safe." He tossed her a wink and she grinned and shook her head before going back to finish the remaining dishes. Maureen hummed an Irish lullaby as she worked, a sure sign that she was calming down from the stress of the afternoon. "So what's for supper?" he asked, leaning back into his chair at the head of the small table.
"Oh! I forgot!"
He mentally kicked himself when the humming stopped and she hurried away from the sink, wiping her hands frantically. Her new happy mood had been crushed and the worry lines settled around her eyes once more. She pulled open the fridge and removed a plate. "I put the rest of your dinner in here when you left. Do you want it cold? I can heat it up."
He waved a hand. "No, it's alright. I can eat it cold."
He smiled at her as she set the plate in front of him and she returned it with a weak smile of her own. But her eyes didn't dance like they usually did when she smiled and he knew the fear had settled back into her heart. After setting a fork and a glass of milk in front of him, she went back to work, silent as the dead of night, and he lost himself in thoughts of how to keep his little world from falling apart.
*~*~*
TWELVE
*~*~*
"Aiofie, darling, dinner is ready."
Aiofe closed her eyes against her grandmother's voice, her hands pausing as they put her long, shimmering hair into a sleek pony tail. She took a deep breath and focused on inhaling through her nose and breathing out through her mouth, stilling the anger that had been raging inside her all day. It wasn't her grandmother's fault. It wasn't even her grandfather's. She knew that. She had always known that. The world was a different place from when he grew up to be a hunter. She was supposed to have a mother, a father, someone to train her and hunt with her until she married and had her own son or daughter to train up.
But in a cruel twist of fate, her mother had been an only child. No matter how they tried, no matter how much they prayed for a second child, the Callaghans could not conceive again. So Aloysius did the only thing he could. He trained his daughter up to be the best hunter she could be. And the best she was. Right up until she ran astray of the awful, vicious son of their own employer--Titania's son, Kane.
Aiofe's hands shook violently, tugging at her hair. She focused on the pain and yanked at the elastic band harder than necessary. It helped steady her and pulled her back to the present. She snorted in frustration as the elastic snapped and threw the broken black band into the little bowl on the dresser.
Running a hand through her hair, she whispered, "Screw it," and slipped her feet into the slippers under the dresser. They were embroidered moccasins her grandfather had bought her several Christmases ago. Lined with lamb's wool, they were soft and comfortable and kept her feet warm on those cold, wet days. Taking another deep breath, Aiofe pulled open the door to her room and stomped down the stairs.
Her grandmother was in the kitchen, humming a tune Aiofe didn't recognize as she fiddled with the pots and pans on the stove. The table was already set, a sign that her grandmother was trying to make peace. Aiofe's tense posture relaxed a little, despite her best efforts to hold onto her anger.
When her grandmother truly felt sorry, she would never say it in words. She would say it with little gestures, like setting the table when it was typically Aiofe's job or bringing Aiofe a cup of tea as she studied in the library. Aiofe wanted to say thank you, to tell her grandmother it was all okay, but the words tangled into a ball in her chest. Instead, she pulled out her chair and sat down heavily.
Her grandmother turned
at the scraping of the wooden legs on the tile floor. "Oh, good evening darling." Her face held a smile, but her voice carried that plaintive questioning tone that asked if everything would be okay between the two of them.
Aiofe forced a smile onto her own face. It felt weird using those muscles. She felt like she hadn't smiled in months. "Hi, gran. What's for dinner?"
"Corned beef and cabbage. Your favorite." Her eyes held a hopeful look as she beamed at Aiofe.
The young woman's fake smile softened, feeling more natural on her face. "Thanks, gran. It smells delicious."
Appeased, her grandmother turned back to the stove, humming once more as she picked up a large, two-tined fork.
"Where is grandad?" Aiofe felt her shoulders tense back up as she mentioned the old man.
Maureen stabbed the fork into the large black pot on the stove and pulled out a huge hunk of boiled corned beef. "He's in the shop," she said as she plunked it down onto a platter, splattering juices onto the counter. "He should be in soon."
Aiofe nodded, slipping into silence while she watched her grandmother spoon cabbage, carrots, and potatoes out of the pot to surround the corned beef. What wouldn't fit on the platter went into a ceramic bowl covered in blue paisley. It was her grandmother's favorite dish. Rumor had it that the bowl was Maureen's great grandmother's great great grandmother's. Aiofe couldn't even begin to guess how many generations that was without getting confused.
The slamming of the door stopped her attempt to figure it out. She dropped her hands into her lap and lowered her eyes to the table, finding the swirled yellow pattern of the table cloth more interesting than her grandfather's entrance. She heard him pause at the door and closed her eyes. He was looking at her, she knew it, she felt it. Aiofe willed herself to open her eyes and look up at him, but by the time she did, he had turned his attention away from her and was walking over to his wife.
"That smells delicious," he said, kissing the old woman on the cheek. "My sweetheart, the best cook in the country."
She giggled and blushed. "Oh, you." She swatted him with the kitchen towel she had picked up to wipe off the drips on the counter, but Aiofe knew she appreciated the comment by the pink tinge on her ears.
The young woman had always admired her grandparents. They were destined to be together from the start. Her grandfather always told Aiofe that he fell in love with her grandmother the very first moment he laid his eyes on her. Though they had been together for fifty years, Aiofe never once doubted their love. They were always kind and gentle with one another, even when they were arguing, and they resolved issues they had with each other very quickly. She longed for a relationship like that, but a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that it was out of the question. There was no one in this world she could imagine trusting that much, not even David McGuire, the object of her fantasies since she was twenty.
Aloysius turned away from his wife, sneaking a slice of carrot off the tray. It earned him another swat as he popped it into his mouth and scooted away. Settling at his seat at the table, he finally looked Aiofe in the eyes. She met them without flinching, focusing on him as she would an enemy. Never look away, never show fear.
He pursed his lips momentarily as if trying to decide what to say, then he lowered his gaze and reached into the pocket of the flannel shirt he wore. He pulled out a small box covered in faded blue velvet and set it on the table in front of Aiofe. Maureen, hearing the clunk of the box, set the fresh bread she had pulled out of the oven on the counter and moved over to stand behind her husband. Her hands went to his shoulders as her eyes settled on her granddaughter.
Aiofe's resolve began to fail and she felt her anger turning into curiosity. Eyeing her grandfather suspiciously, she reached for the box. She slid it off the table and onto her lap before opening it. The hinge was rusted and the box opened hard, but once it snapped apart, she gasped.
Inside lay a beautiful oval locket attached to a chain of hand-crafted links made from the same silver-colored material. She scooped the locket up carefully and examined it. It was larger than most, about the size of silver dollar. A woman's profile was etched onto the cover in astounding detail. She was ageless, carrying a beauty beyond measure, glancing sidelong at the viewer. Despite the woman being inanimate, Aiofe could not help but feel that the image watched her with a knowing look.
The young woman flipped the locket over. On the back was written a simple phrase in delicate handwriting: To my faithful protector of the world. Aiofe frowned. What a strange message.
She glanced up at her grandfather. He said nothing, but he nodded slightly, urging her on. She pressed the tiny latch on the side and the locket popped open without a sound. A hand went unbidden to her mouth and she fought back the tears that flooded to her eyes. Unsuccessful in her war against them, the tears broke over the dam of her eyelashes and poured in streams down her cheeks.
On one side of the locket was a picture Aiofe would recognize anywhere. The long copper hair mirrored her own, as did the green eyes and pouting lips. Caena stared out from the locket, sadness heavy on her beautiful face. Aiofe could easily see the rest of the picture the face was taken from. It was in her room, stuck in the side of the mirror on the dresser. Aiofe was but a baby, tucked into her mother's arms, her own shock of red hair standing out in all directions.
The picture was most stunning, not because of the girl's astounding beauty, but due to the differences in their countenances. Aiofe, the child who was not yet a year old, grinned stupidly at the camera, her innocence protecting her from all the hurts the world would throw at her. Caena, just seventeen, stared unseeing into the invisible lens, her thoughts shielded behind an impenetrable wall. Aiofe sniffed and looked away, clearing her throat and blinking rapidly to force the tears from her eyes.
The other image in the locket was a delicately painted portrait of an older woman. She had the same green eyes and round nose as Caena, but her hair was black through and through. She stared out of the frame, her eyes full of knowledge and determination. Aiofe had a feeling that the woman could accomplish anything she put her mind to.
"Who is this," Aiofe asked, raising her eyes to her grandparents.
Her grandfather smiled. "That is Caoimhe, your great, great... well, I have no idea how many greats, but she lived a very long time ago. She was The First."
Aiofe narrowed her eyes at him. She had never been one for his history lessons and he gave up trying to force her to learn about her ancestry early on, unless it was necessary in her teaching as a hunter. "The first hunter was a woman?"
She had heard the stories of the great faery queen coming to the first hunter, enlisting their help to protect the human world from the attacks of rogue faeries. As her mind darted to all the information she could gather in a short time, she realized that she had always assumed the first hunter was a male, but no one had ever actually specified. That person was always referred to as The First, nothing more, nothing less.
Maureen smiled behind her husband as he nodded. "For a very long time, Titania would only trust the task to females. She believes they are stronger mentally, if not always physically. In their world, women are revered and held in greater esteem. She once told me that men are weak and rash in battle, thinking with their swords instead of their brains.” Maureen laughed as Aloysius scowled.
“She only allowed males to join the ranks several generations later,” she continued. “When one of the hunters died on a hunt with her daughter. The daughter had a child, but she was barely three. Luckily for Titania, the woman had also been secretly teaching her sons the ways of the hunter behind the queen's back."
The old woman gave Aiofe a crooked grin. "I'm sure Titania wasn't happy about the situation she was put in, but she wasn't really given much choice, unless she wanted to train someone else to take the woman's place. And after all the time spent to train The First, she surely wasn't keen on that. The boys proved themselves worthy enough, though, and since then, men have been welcomed into the rank
s without question, though the women are still granted more respect by the queen."
Aiofe stared at the woman in the painting, trying to memorize her every feature. She could easily see the family resemblance and felt a strange pride swell in her chest knowing she was directly descended from the woman hand-picked by the faery queen to protect the world.
"That locket," Alo said, leaning forward and resting his arm on the table to point at the trinket in Aiofe's hand, "was given to The First's daughter upon Caoimhe's death. The image on the front is Titania herself. It is made of a special iron alloy that makes it virtually indestructible and it is enchanted with protection spells. It's not fool proof, obviously, but it offers the wearer greater alertness, swifter reactions, and slows blood loss a bit. Titania went through great lengths to have it made and great risk to herself to carry it to Deirdre. When she gave it to her, she gave her one rule and one rule only: it must be passed down her line, only to the first daughter of the family, in proper succession. It cannot skip a generation or be passed to the second daughter unless a death has occurred to cause it to be unpassable."
Aiofe frowned and gave her grandfather a dubious look. "That's a bit of a ridiculous rule. What if there are no daughters to pass it to?"
The Iron Locket (The Risen King) Page 8