by Lee, Tawnya
“Shh. It’s all right, baby. Just a nightmare. It’s all right.”
Derek’s nightmares woke up the nannies nearly every other night. On the fifth night, Derek’s screams changed.
“Mommy! Mommy! Help! Come back!”
Breasal, hearing Derek ask his mom to come back, ran with the nannies to the nursery. Derek pointed to Breasal and said “Hold me, Uncle Breasal!”
Breasal sat down in the rocking chair and motioned to the nanny to hand him the child.
“Tell me what’s wrong, child? What are you dreaming?”
“I dreamed mommy was stuck. She got stuck in a big dark bowl and almost died. She said she was in a call-don. She’s trying to get out, and I can hear her. She talks to me and Tristan.”
“Tell me what your ma says,” Breasal said.
“She says she stuck but she’ll get out. It’s really dark where she is. But there’s a man with her.”
“Tell me his name. Do you know his name?”
“Yes. She said his name is Paul.”
Breasal squeezed the little boy and kissed the top of his head.
“Do you know what that means, Derek?”
“No. I’m scared. I want mommy.”
“I know. It’s a scary time. But when you hear mommy, it’s her. She’s talking to you in her sleep. She’s letting you know she’ll be okay. The big black bowl is the dream-time world she’s in. And she loves you so much she’s letting you know she’s doing all she can to get better. But the next time you hear her, you can talk back. And you can be happy because this means mommy is getting better.”
“Okay, Uncle Breasal,” Derek’s eyes began to flutter shut. He fought the urge to sleep. He wanted to tell Breasal what else mommy had said, but he couldn’t. He shut his eyes, fell asleep, and forgot the rest of what she’d said in his dream.
Breasal put the little boy to bed. Tristan had already dozed off, asleep in Nanny Piper’s arms. He left the room and called for Faolon. The guard on duty told him he was feeding Moira, so Breasal walked to her room in time to see Faolon place the human’s wrist to Moira’s mouth. She suckled, gripping the arm tightly with her mouth.
Moira stopped feeding and relaxed back onto the bed, deep in slumber. Faolon handed the body to the other guard and instructed him to feed Paul next. The guard picked up the body, teleporting to Paul’s room, lest he be seen carrying a dead body by Nanny Piper or Nanny Beckett.
“What is it? How is the boy?” Faolon asked.
“Good. Good,” answered Breasal. “He’s dreaming of his mother. And actually, I don’t think it’s a dream. I think she’s really communicating with him.”
“How so?”
“Well, the boy says that his mom tells him she’s stuck in a cauldron, a deep, black hole, and that she’s trying to get out. But she’s not alone.”
“Not alone?”
“No. Not alone. The boy said that his mother is with someone named Paul.”
Faolon looked at Moira, caressing her hand.
“So you think they are connected somehow in this? And she’s communicating with her son through his dreams?”
“Yes. And if this is the case, it gives me hope.”
“Aye. It does.”
“But I need to know. Why are they connected? I’ve shared blood with Moira, as has Seara. And while it was great, neither of us are connected to her. Tell me again what you saw. Explain even what you don’t understand.”
“I was fighting blood fae rebels, so I missed pieces of it. But everyone noticed the cailleach fuilteach, sucking his blood and spitting it to the ground. In fact, I thought she was draining him to kill him at first. As did most of us.”
“Ok. And so she drained his blood, much like sucking venom from a snake bite.”
“Yes. And then when I saw her bite her own wrist and squeeze the blood into her mouth, I knew she couldn’t be killing him. Instead she was saving him. But at the time, I didn’t know what from. I saw her take a deep breath and breathe into Paul’s mouth. Little silvery filaments flowed from her mouth into his. At that time, I was attacked by another rebel and had to fight him off, so I didn’t see anymore.”
“By God, that’s it. That’s why she’s also weak. Jesus Christ! I didn’t even know it was possible. But it must be. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. What possessed her to do it?”
“What possessed her to do what?”
“She gave Paul part of her essence.”
“She what?”
“Yes, part of her essence. That’s like giving someone part of your soul. It shouldn’t be possible. This changes everything.”
“How?”
“We don’t need to keep them separate. We need to find a way to strengthen her essence so they both can come back to us!”
“How do we do this?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. But I’ll find out.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Rebellion Attacks
“Have you heard? It’s starting. The rebellion is leading mass attacks on humans throughout Scotland and Ireland. I’ve even heard similar reports out of America. But those Americans... blood must be awfully bitter, what with all the crap they eat. GMOs, preservatives, happy pills...” Liam said.
“America? Where are you getting your information?” Seara asked. She leaned forward in her chair, her legs crossed. The pair sat in the kitchen in North Kessock, having just fed in downtown Inverness.
“Well, you have to decipher it. But, I’m getting this straight from the mortal newspapers. This is in the Daily Record today. ‘Family of Five in Glasgow, Drained of Blood at Dinner Table.’ And USA Today reports of an entire gymnasium of children trapped and burned. The bodies not burnt were drained of blood. And again, in Dublin. Musicians. Three of them found in an apartment they used for music practice. Drained of blood. Authorities don’t know what to make of it and are blaming terrorists. Thick-headed idjits. I’m putting the pieces together though. If this happens enough, I won’t be the only one to figure it out.”
Seara frowned and looked at the palm of her hand, tracing the lines in her skin.
“I see what you’re saying. Those could be unrelated. I mean it’s so scattered. We can’t know for sure it’s the rebellion.”
“No, not yet. But give it time.”
“Give what time?” Breasal asked. He walked into the kitchen and sat beside Liam at the counter.
“I was just telling Seara about the attacks that smell of rebellion to me. Here, read this. And this.” Liam pushed two different newspapers toward Breasal and pointed at different articles.
Breasal read each article, pursing his lips together. He sighed and looked up.
“This is just the start. Right now, it’s random acts. But they will escalate. Before you know it, they’ll even tell people who they are and leave them as witnesses.”
“Now why would they be doing that?” asked Seara.
“Create panic? They’re sadists?” Liam responded.
“What do we do about it, Breasal?” Seara asked.
“I don’t know. We can’t do anything right now. Not without any authority. I need to speak to Sedric and Dubhan. I believe we should call a council of the remaining elders. Put it to a vote. Somehow, we need to regroup and reform the Tribunal in a way our community will accept.”
Liam pulled out his smart-phone. “I’ll text Dubhan. Ask him to bring Sedric up.”
“Good. It’s nearly dawn. Ask them to join us tomorrow. We can all convene here. And, there’s something I want to ask everyone regarding Moira.”
Seara straightened her back. “What?”
“I think I know why she’s weak. I just don’t know what to do about it.”
“Okay. But what do you suspect?” Seara asked.
“Something Faolon said about what she did for Paul. Also, Derek has had dreams of her. She tells him she is with a man named Paul. I’ve been trying to put the pieces together. It just took a bit. I believe she has given Paul part of her essence.”
“I didn’t know that was even possible,” said Seara.
“I heard stories long ago, back in the Iron Age of man. But well, it’s never been done that I'm aware. Or, I should say I’ve not heard of it happening first-hand.”
“If we can figure out how to restore her essence, we can bring her back,” Liam said.
“That’s what I was thinking. Maybe tomorrow we can figure it out,” Breasal said.
“Dubhan will be here. Also Sedric,” said Liam, looking up from his phone.
“Good. We could use the help,” said Seara.
Breasal, Seara, and Liam all retired to separate rooms. The fingers of dawn’s sun were creeping into the North Kessock home as all Na Fuilteacha settled into their slumber. Breasal began to slip into rest when a soft voice floated through his consciousness.
“Breasal,” he heard the voice in his mind.
“Breasal it’s me, Moira.”
At once he became alert. His muscles tensed. “I hear you,” he projected his thoughts to her.
“I tried for months to talk to you. I wasn’t strong enough. But now I am. You made me. You are the one to replenish my essence. But we need more. We need a witch. A witch of Banba. I tried to tell Derek, but he couldn’t understand.”
“Of course. And then what do I do?” Breasal waited for an answer.
“Moira? Moira? Can you hear me? What do we do?”
She answered in his mind once more, but he felt her energy wane.
“I must be reborn. I need the Raven Stone.”
“What do you mean? Moira! Moira?” Breasal asked. But only silence answered him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I Am Your Queen
William, Justan, and Erin returned to the fog-laden forest. Upon reaching a circle of stones, William tapped on the center rock three times, as the witch had instructed him. The three rebels looked nervously at their surroundings. They were inside a standing circle of stones in the middle of the forest in Killarney. Fog draped the stones. The ground beneath them invisible. A wake of vultures settled on the stones surrounding the blood-drinkers. One by one, each vulture shifted into a woman. The last vulture, the thirteenth vulture, was Keita, the witch. Keita walked toward William, standing nose to nose with him. His jaw clenched and he swallowed, but otherwise made no moves nor spoke. Keita examined the other two blood-drinkers in similar fashion. Finally, she turned facing him.
“While we work our magic, you must stand outside the circle. You may observe, but you can’t participate. You must not speak.”
Keita looked into the sky, staring intently at the moon for several seconds.
“In four minutes, we’ll begin. But first, pay me.”
William handed a large bundle to Keita. She opened it and peered inside. Satisfied, she commanded him, saying, “Please stand there.” She pointed to a place to the west of the standing circle.
William and the other fuilteacha walked to the spot and waited. The group of women clasped hands and began a low, humming sound. As the witches hummed, the blood-drinkers noticed the sounds of the forest dropping away. There were no crickets or birds, no owls hooting in the distance. Even the wind seemed to die down just at that moment. The silence of the natural world set the immortals’ nerves on end, and they shifted their feet from side to side as they waited for the ritual to begin.
Keita broke the circle and stood in the center of the women.
“Elementals of the East, do our bidding tonight. Elementals of the South, do our bidding tonight. Elementals of the West, do our bidding tonight. Elementals of the North, do our bidding tonight. We command you!”
Keita pulled a pouch from her robe and walked along the inner edge of the standing stones, pouring a black powder as she walked. “I cast this circle once.” She walked a second time, “I cast this circle twice,” and yet a third time she walked the circle and chanted, “I cast this circle thrice.” After the third walk around, Keita walked back to the center of the women. Each woman threw her hands into the air. They begin to vibrate, and a blue stream of light flowed from each woman’s chest to Keita. Keita raised a black-handled knife into the air. The blue lights joined and traveled along the knife, thirty feet into the sky. Then the light poured out all around the women like a blue dome.
The blood-drinkers watched from outside the dome. Erin and Justan, both nervous, glanced at William for reassurance. He stood, ignoring his henchmen, intently watching the women.
Keita pulled out a poppy doll and lifted it in the air above her head.
“Queen of light, burn tonight. End your soul and life tonight,” the women chanted this in unison nine times. With each repetition, the women clasped hands and walked the circle around Keita, repeating the phrase and running faster and faster. At the end, the women screamed, released hands and danced, each to their own rhythm. Keita pointed to a spot immediately in front of her and a fire blazed instantly. She tore the doll limb from limb and threw the pieces into the fire. As the woman danced around Keita, the flame blazed higher and higher, a red smoke drifting from the blaze. The smoke formed the figure of a woman and began to shriek and moan. Keita pointed at the smoke form and yelled “I command you now perform my deed!” The figure floated higher and higher above the group, still moaning. Then it leapt away outside of the bounds of the blue dome, the sound of moaning growing more and more dim.
Keita clapped three times. “I close this circle once, twice, thrice!” The blue dome collapsed into the center. The fire immediately went out, and Keita gathered the ashes, placing them in a pouch. She handed the pouch to William.
“Is this it?” he asked.
Keita raised her eyebrow. “Is this it? You ask me this? We are the most powerful coven in Ireland AND the United Kingdom, and you ask me if this is it? You may be immortal, but these are powers you will never have. Yes, this is it. The magic is released to perform our intentions. Take this pouch with you. The closer you are to her, the weaker she will become. Then she’ll die.”
She handed the pouch to William, and turned to her sisters. “Let’s go.” The women shifted into vulture form and flew back into the forest.
“What are you staring at?” William said. Justan and Erin both stood, open mouthed, staring into the forest.
“To be sure, I’ve never seen anything like that,” Justan said.
“Me either.”
“Well, let’s just hope it works. It was fecking expensive enough,” William said.
“Come on. We’ll get the others and head to Breasal’s.”
He flew off the ground, Justan and Erin behind him.
Meanwhile in North Kessock, a great assembly of Na Fuilteacha gathered at Breasal’s home per his request. The nannies had been given the night off to avoid raising suspicions with so many fuilteach in the home. Clan Brodie and Clan MacKenzie blood-drinkers arrived in their tartans. Seara, Liam, and Dubhan were present, as were Faolon and the other guards. Nearly one hundred blood-drinkers gathered to pay homage to Moira and to discuss the events lighting through Northern Europe. The mood of the assembly was somber. Breasal stood on the staircase, overlooking the group of blood-drinkers.
“Many of us are concerned about the rebellion’s plans to wreak havoc on the planet. Understandably, those we once belonged to have become our enemy. And the price we pay for immortality is to crouch and hide in the shadows. But this protects us. And it protects humans. Like it or not, they exist and we must feed. But even though we are superior in intellect and lifespan, we all here share the belief that our best chance for survival is to remain hidden and preserve the current mindset that we do not exist.”
“Moira is currently in a fragile state. She is very much alive, and it is my belief that our safety and our perseverance depends on her survival. Today is Samhain. I believe in her effort to save Paul’s life, she gave him part of her essence. We must raise her essence and heal it.”
Murmurs raced through the crowd. “Her essence? How is this possible?” “How can we heal her essence?” and “
Is he mad?” The murmurs became a roar as blood-drinkers speculated on what really happened that day at Tara and what they would do to save the cailleach fuilteach.
Breasal raised his hands and clapped, yelling, “Na Fuilteacha, please!”
The hall quieted down, and Breasal continued.
“I am her maker. As such, I believe it is up to me to...”
A loud knock sounded and the front door of Breasal’s home flew open. Blood-drinkers gasped, startled. Breasal stopped speaking, heart stammering, as he looked to see who could possibly have broken the protection of the Brehon guards.
A solitary witch, Agnes, stepped through the door. Her gray hair frizzed and straggled down her back. Clutching a staff in her left hand, she shuffled inside.
“And didn’t you ignore my advice the first time around? I believe you need my help, and wouldn’t youse not need it if any one of ya had listened? But here I am,” she said. She snapped the fingers of her right hand and twelve women of various sizes, shapes, and ages appeared in a semi-circle behind her. “And a few of my friends.”
She grinned, the folds around her mouth creasing and piling up on each other. She slowly turned her head, lifted her right index finger, and snapped. The front door swung shut behind her.
“How did you know we were even here? How did you get through the protections of the guard?” Breasal asked.
“Don’t be an amadán49. I have the sight, don’t ye know it? I saw the Great Queen to come. I saw the destruction your kind would cause. Moira needs me. You need me, and for two reasons. First, we must restore the Great Queen. And second, you, my kind cousins, are about to be attacked.”
“Attacked?” Sedric asked. He stood with legs shoulder-width apart, arms crossed.
“The rebellion has been aided by a dark witch named Keita. They are on their way here with the remains of a poppet spell with the intent to completely annihilate any chance of the Tribunal rising again, and to kill Moira,” Agnes said.
The hall erupted in yells and chaos.
“Silence!” shouted Breasal.
The hall went still. Every blood-drinker stopped and looked up at him.