Bless Your Heart

by Kimbra Swain

  “How does a tattoo hold power?”

  “Special ink,” I replied.

  “Where did you get it?”

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” I replied. He laughed, but it was the truth. I lifted the ink from a holy sect of hypocrites, in this case, the Sanhedrin. To be honest, I didn’t know what they used it for, but it was a conductor for magic.

  We drove through the center of town, which wasn’t impressive, passing the grocery store. He looked at me but didn’t comment.

  “Could I get a tattoo and store power like you?” he asked.

  “Sure, but I’m working on that so be patient,” I said. “Tell me about yourself Levi Rearden. What is your favorite food? Color? Movie? Stuff like that. I’d like to get to know you better.”

  “Um, well, my favorite food is cheeseburgers. I know, pretty plain. Favorite color is blue. Favorite movie is Braveheart. I’m a pretty typical American guy, I guess,” he said.

  “Allergies?”

  “Demons,” he said as I laughed.

  “Good one,” I said.

  “What did you call Jeremiah about last night?” he asked.

  “Patience, Dublin. We are almost there,” I said.

  “We passed the store, but I didn’t want you to make me get out of the truck, so I didn’t say anything,” he said.

  Shaking my head, I realized that it did sound like something I would do. After I turned down a dirt road, we drove about 8 miles into the woods where the road stopped. “Alright, it’s a short walk from here. Bring the guitar,” I said.

  We walked for about a half a mile and stepped to a large greenfield clearing. In the center, there stood twelve stone pillars of various shapes. They were Limestone, which was abundant in the area when I created the circle.

  “Wow!” he said in awe of it. “Can I walk inside it?”

  “Yes, of course,” I said.

  “You built this?”

  “I did. It is a reservoir of magic. A store,” I said. Four of the stones pointed in compass directions. The rest of standing stones filled in the gaps like a clock. These types of stone circles littered the British Isles.

  In the center, a perfectly round stone rested with a carved circular triquetra knot. It stood 2 feet off the ground measuring about 5 feet across. “I’ve seen this before,” he said pointing at the symbol. “On Thor’s Hammer.”

  “I assure you that Mjölnir does not have a triquetra on it. Maybe in the movies, but not the real one. The triquetra is a symbol of threes. Many religions and mythologies use the symbol to represent threes like the triple goddess,” I said.

  “Father, son and holy ghost,” he said.

  “Yes, even the Christians adapted it as they did a lot of Celtic culture,” I said. “This is my triquetra. For me it symbolizes a whole being. We are made up of body, mind and soul in a never-ending knot depending upon each part to make the whole. Step inside the circle, and when I tell you, close your eyes then reach out to feel the power in the stone,” but before I got it out of my mouth, he yanked power quickly from the stone, and it washed over us.

  The vision started immediately of two bodies intertwined. Fevered sweat, passionate moans. The brushing of skin on skin contact overwhelmed me. A part of me wanted to let the vision continue, but instinctively, I matched the power with my own, shutting down the vision.

  “Whoa!” he said.

  “I said to wait until I said to do it! Damn it, Levi,” I shook my head trying to clear the vision.

  “What the hell was that? And can I do it again?” he said. He was so obviously half-fae that it made me laugh. “What’s so funny?”

  “In the future, please listen to what I’m saying. I don’t think you realize how much power you really have. You pulled power from the triquetra, and it heals the missing parts or broken parts of yourself. You did it while I was in the circle, so it automatically included me in the healing,” I said.

  “That was you? Hot!” he said waggling his eyebrows at me.

  “Look here, don’t get sexcited. It was a vision. Trust me, it wasn’t real. You seem to have a lacking in the sexual department,” I explained.

  “I might as well take a vow and become a priest, it’s been so long,” he said.

  “I’ll buy you a whore,” I said.

  “What? No, I don’t want a prostitute,” he said.

  “Better than a swamp witch,” I said as he sighed.

  Sitting down on the stone, I grabbed his hand, coaxing him down to sit in front of me. I took a deep breath and prepared to tell him the truth.

  “Levi, do you know what a Changeling is?” I asked.

  “Um, fairies steal human babies, replacing them with fairy babies,” he said.

  “Actually, Changelings are just the offspring of a human and a fairy. Remember when I asked about your parents?”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t know which one, but one of your parents had an affair with a fairy, more than likely your mother, and you are a changeling. That is why Jeremiah brought you to me. I didn’t notice until I looked at you with my magical sight. I should have known there was more to it than just you in trouble with a witch,” I said.

  He dropped his head. “You are for real?”

  “For real,” I replied. “It’s why the triquetra provided you with a sex vision. The primal urges of being a fairy can be insatiable. Clearly, it’s been a while for you,” I said.

  “Ugh,” he groaned putting his head in his hands. His brown locks curled around his fingers, and the sun glinted off of the dark brown hair revealing strands of copper. “What does that mean?”

  “First of all, I will teach you what you need to know about changelings and your power. Then you can decide what you want to do. The Sanhedrin will kill you, this demon wants your body as a vessel, and the witch wants you to go to the demon so he doesn’t kill her. Your final option is to stay with little ol’ me in the trailer park. I know this is a shock, but you are welcome to stay as long as wish until you figure it out. But Levi, look at me,” I said, waiting for him to make eye contact, “You will do as I say or you will die. You are too damned good looking to die.”

  Pausing to take in my words, he fought with a truth inside of him. Finally, he decided to let it out. “Mom had a lover. When Dad would go out to drink, a man would come over. I didn’t know him, but now that I think about it, he looked like me,” he admitted.

  “Not to be callous, but that’s neither here nor there. You have a choice to make,” I said. “It doesn’t have to be made right now. Want me to show you some magic to get it off your mind for the moment?” The whole conversation was making me nervous and uncomfortable. There is no telling what he felt.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said.

  “Okay, get that guitar out. I’m going to step outside the circle. Do you write your own songs?” I asked suspecting that he did.

  “Yeah, I write my own, but I don’t really write them down. I just play,” he said.

  “Okay, stand in the circle, and don’t pull power from it. I don’t want you fucking your guitar in front of me,” I said winking at him. He blushed. Darn. Every time he blushed, it made me think of all the things I could do to him to make him blush more. “Think about this clearing, the woods surrounding us and all the critters in the woods. Play whatever comes to mind,” I continued, dismissing my lewd thoughts.

  He played a couple of chords timidly, then continued softly picked the strings. The song sounded like the movement of a rain-swelled stream. I sat in the grass beside the triquetra stone, concentrating on the entity that I wanted to visit us. A light breeze flowed through the clearing causing the green grass to sway. As the humidity melted away, all around us the wildlife started to approach his song. I watched him as his eyes sparked with wonder. Making a small motion for him to keep playing, he continued with the soft sounds expanding it to a combination of picking and strumming. Deer, turkeys, hawks, coyotes, bobcats and all manner of animals came to hear his song. Above us, a haw
k circled in the trees. Small animals like wrens and squirrels came to watch. It was like animated movie where the main character has multiple animal sidekicks, only the princess was a sexy Texan with a guitar.

  When I heard the deep rumble of hooves, I knew we would have a visitor. The animals scattered back into the woods as two dozen feral hogs blasted through the green field. I jumped up and stood on the rock with Levi. Bless his heart, he stood in front of me like he was going to fight them. I chuckled at his chivalry. In the shadows of the trees, I saw an orange light flicker, then the telltale smoke of a burning cheroot wafted through the meadow.

  “Who is that?” he asked.

  “An acquaintance,” I replied. I couldn’t call him a friend because I wasn’t sure Chris considered anyone a friend. “Come on, let me introduce you.”

  I stepped off the stone, and Levi followed me to the shade of the tall evergreens.

  “Afternoon, Miss Grace, you look lovely as always,” the smoky voice said from the shadows.

  “Hello, Chris, how have you been?” I asked.

  “I am always well, my dear. Who’s the bard?” he asked.

  “Chris, this is Levi Rearden. He’s staying with me for a while,” I said.

  “You are a lucky man. I have attempted in vain to have sweet Miss Grace invite me to her bed, but she does not,” he sounded disappointed, but I saw the smirk in his eyes. I wasn’t his type, but he had a smooth tongue.

  “Hello, sir. It’s nice to meet you, but it’s not like that with Grace and me,” he said.

  “Oh really? Well, you can join my disappointment,” he said stepping into the light.

  Chris Purcell, a maker of deals and king of the wild boars, was a were-hog. A winged were-hog to be exact. He was smarmy, dirty, and knew how to get a job done. I called him because I knew I couldn’t go back in the woods where we found the children, but he could lead his herd into the area without raising suspicions.

  He wore a black vest with a white and gray pinstripe shirt paired with dark black jeans. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows revealing dark olive-toned skin. His black cowboy boots stuck out from under his jeans. He flicked the stub end of his cheroot into the grass stamping it out with the finely tooled leather boot. He pulled a white leather pouch from his pocket and retrieved another smoke. As he closed the pouch, I could see intricate tooling that was a portrait of Medusa, his mother.

  “Lovely picture of your mother,” I commented.

  “All men have mommy issues,” he replied. “What can I do for you, Miss Grace?”

  “You know about the two murdered children?” I asked.

  “I do. Are you the psychic that helped them find the bodies?” he asked lighting the cheroot with a silver butane lighter.

  I groaned. “I’m not a psychic. But yes, I helped. I need more information. There is no way they will let me back in those woods. Could you go in and see if you can find anything that would help me locate the killer?”

  “Honey, I will do anything for the right price,” he gloated.

  “What would the price be for the information?” I asked.

  He sauntered to me smiling like a stuffed pig, “How about you owe me a favor?”

  “No, Chris. No open-ended terms. Name your price,” I said.

  He puffed on the cheroot pacing back and forth. “I have a problem that needs a remedy you could provide. There is a wolf in town eating our young. I haven’t been able to catch him. I need him dead or gone. I will get the information you request, if you run off the wolf,” he said.

  Closing my eyes, knowing that once a wolf found an easy hunting spot, it would be difficult to uproot him. “Were or regular wolf?”

  “Were,” he said smiling.

  “Done,” I said. He twirled the end of his black handlebar mustache. His greasy black hair flopped over to one side and bounced when he shook my hand.

  “Why, Miss Grace, it is a pleasure doing business with you, as always. Nice to meet you, Bard.” He turned walking back into the woods. The hogs grazing around us snapped to attention and herded out in a stampede.

  “Why did he call me bard?”

  “Have you never heard of a bard?” I asked laughing.

  “No. How are you going to get rid of a werewolf?” he asked.

  “That is going to be difficult, but I’ll figure it out. Chris better find the info I need,” I said walking toward where we parked the truck.

  “You aren’t going to tell me what a bard is!” he shouted.

  “Levi, get in the truck. It’s hot as h-e-double hockey sticks out here,” I said.

  He followed behind me sulking. My mind went in circles. Run off a wolf. Find a child murderer. Avoid a demon. Train a changeling. Kill a witch. I sighed and got in the truck waiting on slow poke.

  I missed three calls from Dylan. Pulling out of the dirt road in the woods, I finally got a solid signal to call him back. His phone went to voicemail.

  “Hey sorry, I was out at the store. Give me a call back,” I said.

  “I’m hungry,” Levi said.

  “We can grab lunch at the diner,” I replied.

  “Can we stop by the real store, too?” Levi asked.

  “Sure. What you do you need?” I asked.

  “Beer. Lots of it,” he said.

  “Beer run!” I shouted, and he flinched. “Can’t take it all too seriously, Dublin. Otherwise it will drive you mad.”

  “So, that’s what’s wrong with you,” he teased.

  I slammed on the brakes in the middle of the road deciding to play on his earlier fear. Thankfully, no one was around us. “Get out, Levi Rearden.”

  “Aw, come on, Grace! You said don’t take it seriously,” he sobered.

  “Seriously, get out,” I said.

  He sat in the passenger seat, pouting. It was cute. Darn.

  I sighed, continuing to ignore my hormones.

  “Were you really going to make me get out?” he asked.

  “I guess we will never know,” I said.

  “Jeremiah said you were a piece of work,” he said.

  “Oh yeah, what else did Jeremiah say?” I asked.

  “It was all good, Grace,” he said.

  “Liar,” I replied. He did not defend himself as I pulled into The Grove Diner. “Come on, Dublin. You said you liked cheeseburgers. Luther makes the best ones in the South if you ask me.”

  The bell on the door tinkled as we entered the diner. It was mid-afternoon, so we were there between lunch and dinner rush.

  “Grace! It’s good to see you, honey,” Betty said from behind the counter. Betty Stallworth worked as the waitress at the diner. She was in her mid-fifties with curling white hair above a pleasant smile. She treated everyone the same. Behind the wall in the kitchen, an African-American man looked through the food pass window at us.

  I waved at him, and he grinned at me. “Hey Betty, how y’all doing today?” I asked her.

  “I’m great since you brought this handsome, young man in here,” she said as Levi blushed. She had the same reaction as I did to him. That blush could drive a woman wild.

  “Betty, I’d like you to meet Levi Rearden. He’s staying with me for a spell, and taking some classes in town,” I explained as the owner, Luther Harris, walked up beside Betty. He hugged her close to him.

  “Grace, you always have the best-looking men around you. I just don’t know what they see in you,” he said as he stared at Mrs. Betty. The two of them finally got together after many years of flirting back and forth. You would think in the South the pairing of an older white woman and a black man would be frowned upon, but contrary to belief nobody much cared about that kind of thing anymore. Sure, there were a few nuts who still wore their white hoods and paraded around burning crosses, but most everyone down here thought they were foolish.

  Luther Harris owned The Grove diner long before I ever came to town. He was a hard worker and took care of his large family. His wife died about ten years ago. Since then he’d taken up with
Mrs. Betty who also lost a spouse. They were the cutest couple in town. He adored her, however she acted like he never paid her any attention. The dynamic made me laugh.

  “Get back behind that wall and cook this handsome boy some food,” she barked at him.

  “I would if you’d take his order,” he replied smartly as he turned back to the kitchen. She reared back popping him on the butt. It startled him, and he rubbed it. “Damn, woman, not in public.”

  I died laughing at both of them. Levi shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “I swear that man,” she muttered. “Levi, tall and handsome, what can I get you?”

  Levi still stared at her. “Give him a minute, Betty,” I laughed.

  “Boy, you act like you’ve never had your ass spanked by a real woman,” she said smiling.

  “Um, well, I haven’t,” he admitted. I continued to laugh at him, so he poked me in the ribs.

  “Maybe Grace will oblige you,” Betty offered.

  “Oh, hell no, you leave me out of this, Betty!” I exclaimed. “Order some food, Levi before she invites us over for swingers’ night.” I winked at Betty as she giggled.

  Levi’s mouth dropped open. “It was a joke, Levi. I would never let any other woman touch Luther,” she said.

  “I’ll have a cheeseburger with fries,” he muttered.

  “I’ll have the same plus a coke for each of us,” I smiled at her as she wrote it down.

  Sticking the paper order up in the window, she shouted, “Order up!” Luther stood at the window watching her and shook his head. She grabbed a coffee pot and went to pour coffee for other patrons down the counter from us.

  The diner wasn’t big with just one long counter with stools. An antique but well-kept marquee listed the menu above the prep counter. A jukebox sat in the corner filled with country music and oldies.

  “What the hell?” Levi finally muttered.

  “The cheeseburgers are great,” I replied.

  Finally, he laughed, shaking his head. “I think I just got turned on by an old woman slapping a guy’s butt,” he muttered.