by Amy Sumida
But one look in his dark molasses eyes showed me that this was not about fame for him, this was a cry for help. He had a desperate, anxious expression on his face. The kind of look you see sometimes on mental patients; people tormented by their own demons. Except this man's demons were very real... and they were actually fairies.
“Hello, Shaman Chepaney,” the host nodded to the man.
“Justin,” the man stepped back and admitted the whole group into his home. He led them into a simple but clean living room with a rocking chair near the small fireplace and an indigo cotton couch with an Native American blanket laid over the back of it. “Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Justin said as he sat. “Would you please tell everyone the story you first told us.”
“Yes,” the man swallowed hard, his lined face looking like worn leather but in an oddly attractive way. “Raven mockers, kalona ayeliski, sunnayi edahi, the night goers. There are many names for them but what they are is very simple. They are witches; evil shamans with horrible powers.”
“Yes, and as I've just said to our viewers, I was very skeptical when you first told me your witch tale,” the host looked contrite. “I apologize for not believing you.”
“No apology necessary,” the shaman held up his hand. “It's a hard thing to believe, even with Christianity so widespread in the United States. People forget that God has a counterpart, that evil does exist and at times, can be just as powerful as good.”
“Yes, I see that now,” Justin whispered and gave the camera a dramatic look. “If you believe in God, you must also believe in the Devil.”
“But this is not the Devil, not any devil,” the shaman went on and the camera focused back on him. “This is human evil; human's with magic, as I have been blessed with magic. But these people have allowed the lure of wickedness to turn their magic dark.”
I leaned forward to stare at this shaman. He was speaking the truth as he knew it but he was also very wrong. This wasn't human magic at all; these were fairies attacking his people, and the power he possessed was simply psychic ability.
“Please tell us about their magic,” the host urged.
“They have found a way to prolong their lives by stealing life from others,” the shaman went on. “And they do it in a devious manner.”
“Yes, it's fascinating actually,” Justin said to the camera.
“They come after dark,” the shaman was speaking such theatrical words but in a stoic way that made them feel genuine... as I knew they were. Goose bumps lifted on my arms as he continued, “on wings of fire. You cannot see them unless you are a shaman and have the ability to see beyond this world. But all can hear them. They make a sound like a diving raven, which is why we call them raven mockers.”
“Ahh,” Justin nodded. “And Night Goers because they come at night, obviously.”
“They need the shadows to hide their flight and their faces,” Shaman Kevin said. “But we know what they're after and what to look for.”
“What is it that they want?” The host asked as he leaned forward. “How do they steal life from people?”
“They sneak into the homes of the sick or elderly, invisible to all but shamans, and they torment their victims by strangling or throwing them about,” Kevin explained. “Anyone in the room simply thinks the victim is struggling to breathe. No one knows that a witch is tormenting their loved one, wearing them down so the raven mocker can steal their victim's heart.”
“What do they do with the heart?” Justin asked.
“They consume it and from it, they gain life,” the shaman said with a bleak tone. “They leave no sign behind. No one can tell that the heart has been taken unless an autopsy is done.”
“But luckily, the Cherokee know to look for abnormal signs of distress in their sick and elderly,” Justin prompted the shaman.
“Yes,” the shaman nodded. “And then they call me.”
“And how do you catch the raven mocker?” The host prompted.
“There is an old ritual,” he sighed. “It's basically a trap for the raven mockers. After the trap is sprung, the mocker usually dies seven days later. That's how we find the witch; when someone in the community dies on the seventh day, we know who the mocker was.”
“Now let me reiterate here that I was very skeptical over Mr. Chepaney's claims,” Justin spoke to the camera. “But he seemed so genuine and so sane, that I started to wonder if there could be some truth to his words. So we agreed to investigate the next incident and Shaman Chepaney promised to call us as soon as he was alerted to some suspicious activity.” The camera drew in closer to Justin's face. “And he did. I must warn you that the following footage is disturbing and violent. It clearly shows that the actions taken by Mr. Chepaney were in defense of the victim and we hope that no legal action will be taken against him but that is the risk he is willing to take to expose these evil beings and save his community. Please, remove any children from the room before watching further.”
I glanced at Tiernan and saw his jaw clench as the scene changed to a bedroom. There was an elderly man lying in the bed, obviously not long for this world, and a group of people huddled around him whom I could only assume to be his family. The Paranormal Parameters crew was there, including the host, three camera men, and two more researchers manning all sorts of equipment.
“This is Mr. Hayecha,” the host stood beside the bed, looking significantly less solemn than he had earlier, and indicated the man lying within it. “Thank you so much, Sir, for letting us into your home and allowing us to film this.”
“Yeah,” the old man nodded, closing his eyes and nodding off immediately.
“And thank you all for being here to support your loved one,” Justin nodded to the man's family and they nodded back solemnly. “Now we're going to quietly make our way outside where Shaman Chepaney is preparing to defend Mr. Hayecha from supernatural forces.” You could hear the almost derisive note underlying Justin's words but he kept the dramatic look on his face like any good actor.
The camera followed him out of the house and into the front yard, where the shaman was standing before a deer hide laid on the ground. On the hide were four sticks with sharpened tips, a bowl of tobacco leaves, a piece of black cloth, and a long pipe adorned with feathers. The shaman picked up the sticks with a determined look and started towards the house. The camera followed along with him as he drove a stick into the ground at each corner of the house, sharpened tips pointing upward. Then the shaman came back to the deer hide and sat upon it cross-legged.
He started to chant as he picked up the bowl of tobacco and filled the pipe with it. Sure fingers tamped the tobacco tight and then took the black piece of cloth and wrapped the pipe in it completely. Without even looking at the camera, the shaman got to his feet and walked off into the woods that bordered the backyard. The camera followed his progress for a minute and then panned back to the host.
“Shaman Chepaney has told us that he must spend the day preparing for the confrontation that will come tonight,” Justin glanced down at the empty deer hide and then back at the camera. “Will this truly be a battle between good and evil? Will this night take us further than any paranormal parameter we've established so far? Or will this be yet another performance that falls short?”
The screen went black for about two seconds before showing the same house at night. The host was standing outside, staring into the camera intensely. Behind him, the house lights were on but the surrounding area was dark. Still, you could easily see the shaman approaching.
“Night has fallen and Shaman Chepaney has returned,” Justin nodded towards the shaman, who walked up to them. “Are you prepared to face the raven mockers, Shaman?”
“I'm prepared,” the shaman said gravely. “Please, whatever you do, do not run. Stay calm and I will do my best to save Mr. Hayecha. If you panic and disturb my focus, the mocker may escape.”
“Believe me, Shaman Chepaney, we are all professionals and will not disturb yo
ur focus,” Justin said with just the barest hint of disdain.
“Your beliefs will be questioned before this night is through,” Shaman Chepaney said in such a sober, assured way, that it was chilling. Even the host blinked and gave the camera an unsteady look. “Now, follow me.”
The shaman walked calmly up the porch steps and into the house. The host gave the camera one last baffled look before they all followed the shaman in. Through narrow hallways they went, past empty rooms, until they came to the bedroom. Shaman Chepaney motioned them over to a corner, where the rest of the crew was already set up.
“Stay there and stay quiet,” Chepaney said with authority and the Paranormal Parameters crew did as they were told.
“Should we expect-” Justin started to ask but the shaman shot him a hostile look and he shut up.
The family was gathered in another corner and the shaman went to them, telling them gently to be calm and to please not interfere or try to help the old man in any way, no matter what they saw. They all nodded their acceptance and the shaman went to turn off the overhead light. The room fell into darkness and the cameras shifted into night vision.
Then the screen split into two, showing the room in both night vision and infrared camera views. Justin's voice came as an obvious added in voice-over to the scene.
“In order for you to clearly see what happened next, we had to split the screen into two. Please note how the entity shows clearly in infrared but not in the night vision footage. They are being played simultaneously for you. Again, I urge you to remove any young children from the room.”
As his voice stopped, the cry of a raven came from somewhere outside the house. Then the old man sat up on the bed and several people gasped. Someone whispered, What the (beep) is that? but was immediately hushed as cameras focused on the bed. The night vision view showed only the chartreuse tinted glow of the old man, sitting up and gasping for air, his eyes bright in that creepy way all eyes under night vision appeared. But the infrared view showed a massive shape which had a cherry red center radiating out into tangerine and neon yellow blotches. It had a distinctly human shaped lime border around those core colors but it didn't stop there. The lime turned to teal and then darkened to cobalt clouds which shifted around the human shape like it was a separate entity.
The shaman stood up and shouted something in a Native American language, which I assumed to be Cherokee. The shape on the infrared screen flinched, its head turning abruptly to look over its shoulder at the shaman. Its brightly colored hands released the old man and poor Mr. Hayecha fell to the bed, gasping for air. The shaman spoke again and the shape rose into the air; the cobalt clouds pulling in close to the teal and seeming to lift the human core up.
It launched itself at the shaman and Kevin Chepaney was thrown back into a wall. I couldn't help gasping and leaning forward to watch as the shaman struck out at the raven mocker. Chepaney shouted as he threw something into the mocker's face. A horrible screech pierced the night and several people screamed. Ruby light shot through the cobalt haze surrounding the raven mocker and fire sparked, briefly illuminating the rictus of a man's face on the night vision side of the screen. Then the mocker flew out of the doorway and the shaman chased after it. A bumpy camera shot shifted to just infrared, following the bright form of the Cherokee shaman out of the house and into the night.
The shaman motioned violently and another screech was heard. A sound like rushing wind began to grow in strength as the screen split once more. This time, one side showed a normal perspective and one was infrared. The normal view focused on a corner of the house, where one of the sticks had lifted out of the ground and was hovering in the air. The cameraman and several others from the ghost hunting team were making horrified but excited comments. I was impressed that no one ran. They just kept filming; the infrared focused on the hovering, screeching glow of the raven mocker while the normal view showed the stick shooting upwards. It hit the crimson center of the mocker, right where the heart should be. The mocker gave another screech as his invisibility glamour failed him.
People screamed as the entire screen went back to normal vision. A huge shape lifted up and hovered above the group of shocked people. Shadows shifted around it, oily black like the smoke from a crematorium. A face shot out of the morphing murk, its mouth stretching open grotesquely on one last screech before the thing sped away, sparks trailing from the boiling black concealing it. The camera tried to follow but lost the trail in seconds.
“I think that's all you need to see,” Councilman Teagan got up and turned off the DVD. “I'm sure you understand why we had to acquire this footage.”
“It would be a horrible way for humans to find out that fairies exist,” I nodded.
“Oh, this has nothing to do with fairy reputation,” the councilman looked surprised. “Do you really think that your average human would view this and immediately think fairy?”
“They'd begin to believe in witches again,” Tiernan observed. “Because that is precisely what the shaman believes.”
“Sweet Danu,” I breathed. “All humans with any sort of psychic gift would be in danger.”
“Precisely,” Teagan nodded. “Our first instinct when met with aggression is to defend ourselves against it... or anything that resembles it.”
“There would be witch hunts again,” I whispered, remembering my history lessons about the days when extinguishers had to be extra careful to hide their abilities. The Human Council had grown considerably in those days because they kept taking in hunted humans who were born outside of the Great Five Families.
“It would be far worse this time, Ambassador,” Councilman Teagan resumed his seat. “With the type of weapons we have these days, witch hunting could turn into war. Civil war, where neighbors kill neighbors and brothers kill brothers. The military would have to be brought in and with only the higher officials knowing the truth about fairies, they would most likely attack talented humans.”
“The United States would turn into Nazi Germany,” I swallowed hard.
“And we, the persecuted Jews,” Teagan nodded as chills coasted over my arms. “We cannot let these people investigate this any further.”
“We can take care of the ghost hunters,” I gave Tiernan a weighted look and he nodded.
“A simple forgetting spell, Councilman,” Tiernan explained. “No one will be harmed. We can take care of the shaman too if necessary.”
“But he'll still be dealing with raven mocker attacks,” Teagan said. “Wouldn't he remember eventually?”
“The raven mockers are a different problem,” I sighed.
“One that will require more than a forgetting spell to solve,” Tiernan said grimly.
Chapter Seven
I sat on the porch between Cat and Tiernan, waiting for night to come. The rest of my Star's Guard was spread out along the wide veranda, some at the railing and some leaning against the house. Well, all but Torquil and Ian, who had been dispatched to find the crew of Paranormal Parameters and erase their memories.
Twilight came and I closed my eyes to the rush of power that it always brought me. Energy surged through my limbs, making me inhale sharply and jerk in response. I could feel it pressing up beneath my skin, a vibrant effervescence; champagne and electricity. My fingers tingled, eager to release the magic building inside me. I gave in to the desire and let just a few lavender sparks drift down to the wood planks beneath me.
“You can do better than that,” Tiernan teased.
“What do you want; fireworks?” I laughed.
“What are fireworks?” Ainsley asked and Tiernan gave me a smug grin.
“Oh fine,” I huffed and flung my hand out.
A swirl of sparkling light flew out from my fingers and coalesced in the air before the house. The energy gathered together and then burst apart in an explosion of lavender, iris, hyacinth, periwinkle, and orchid. A glittering, bursting bouquet of magic, bright against the sunset sky. The knights applauded the display.
“How would humans accomplish that?” Ainsley asked.
“With explosives,” Tiernan chuckled. “Humans like things that explode.”
“No kidding,” I muttered.
“Ambassador Seren,” Extinguisher Kate stepped out onto the porch. “The Head Councilman wants you to know that not only will the floodlights remain off but we'll be turning off the house lights soon too, so it will be completely dark for you.”
“Wonderful,” I nodded.
“We will be wearing night vision goggles,” she went on. “Would any of your knights or yourself, like to borrow a pair?”
“We'll be okay, thank you,” I smiled at her.
“Alright then,” she headed back into the house. “We were told to let you handle this but we're here if you need us, Extinguisher Seren. You're still one of us and we have your back.”
“I really appreciate that, Extinguisher Teagan,” I said sincerely. “I've had a bit of a mixed reaction from my fellow extinguishers. It's nice to know there are those who still support me.”
“I'm sure they all still support you,” she said gently. “We extinguishers can be temperamental when it comes to change but we're loyal, especially to our own.”
“You're right, we are,” I gave her smile.
“Good luck, Ambassador,” she nodded and closed the door behind her.
“Hopefully I won't need it,” I sighed as darkness fell.
It was a long wait. Hours later, some extinguishers brought dinner out to us and we ate in tense silence but no mockers arrived to ruin our meal. It wasn't till way after midnight that we finally heard the cry of a diving raven. I sat up straight in my chair and Cat let out a low growl.
“Shhh,” I hushed her and she immediately quieted.