Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins

by Margeaux Laurent

  Thinking of Rebecca's final moments was the last thing that my memory wanted to recall, but I tried my hardest to endure the images that passed through my mind. I saw the fire go out, the bed depress . . . the children. My mind skipped ahead, “I saw Lamont standing in the woods looking up at their window—I never saw the Puca,” I finally declared as a chill ran down my spine.

  “What else can he turn himself into?” Becky asked nervously.

  We looked at Greer for answers, “I don’t know…”

  “He could be anything!” Becky’s voice rose with exasperation. “He could be posing as one of us.”

  We all looked at each other suspiciously.

  “Where did our parents meet?” Becky demanded of me.

  “In the Caribbean . . . in a slave holding,” I replied.

  Greer and I looked at each other. I didn’t need verification to know it was him, and he felt equally as sure of me. Becky still looked nervous.

  “Where did we first meet?” Greer asked me with a little smile.

  “Which time?” I replied.

  “Alright, I am convinced,” Becky sighed.

  “On a bright note, at least we know that Lamont is our only adversary,” I breathed. “It means we only have to deal with one enemy… not two like we originally thought.”

  “Becky raised an eyebrow, “Aislin, do you remember what he did to that bear? Even if he is only one being…he is still deadly.” She reached down and touched her calf. The scar was still etched across her skin from her encounter with the monster.

  I looked up nervously, “I have never seen anything in my book that alludes to a spell that will destroy a Puca…”

  “Martha believed that when you shattered his amulet at the Ball, that you also decreased his powers to shield himself from your spells. She said that the stone was ancient and very powerful, but you have weakened him.”

  “Can he still transform into the Puca?” Becky inquired, as she folded her arms around her waist.

  “Yes,” Greer sounded upset by his own answer.

  “Then that is what he was looking for at the quarters,” Becky answered, “He needs another amulet to block our spells and he thought he could find one at my home.”

  “Did Martha say how we were to defeat him?” I asked in haste.

  Greer clenched his knuckles tightly together, his frustration so overwhelming that he started to shake, “She just said to . . . trust in the magic.”

  CHAPTER THRITY-FIVE

  January 1st 1735

  Evening

  My mother sat in the back parlor working on her embroidery. I knew she was trying to ignore me. She was still angry that Martha had forced her out of the plans to take down Lamont.

  “I do not hate Greer,” she finally stated, after an hour of silence.

  I lifted my head from the book and put down my quill. I had been making notes on a separate piece of paper, jotting down anything that might be helpful to pass along to Becky.

  “Martha was correct though. I do not trust him,” she said angrily.

  “Martha trusted him. Isn't that enough for you?” I asked with a hint of resentment in my tone.

  “It should be enough, but it is not. Aislin, please keep your guard up. Everything that has happened occurred after you met him. Remember that,” she said, as she furiously ripped out a line of thread that she had sewn incorrectly.

  “Then you should not forget that it has been Greer who has saved me numerous times!” I countered.

  “He killed Martha!” she shrieked as she threw her embroidery ring at me and stomped from the room.

  I saw the embroidery hoop flying in my direction and deflected its path, forcing it to fall onto the chase lounge in the corner of the room.

  “Oh and Mother,” she stopped in the doorway at my words, “I have placed a blocking spell on you. If you try to hex my relationship with Greer, you will destroy your own relationships as well,” I said coldly. She turned and slammed the door behind her.

  ********************

  Supper was in an hour's time. I set the table in silence and ignored my mother when she tried to apologize.

  “Aislin,” she said weakly, as I placed the dishes on the table. “I am sorry.”

  I gave her a scathing look and continued to busy myself.

  “Aislin, I cannot lose you too. First my family in Ireland, then the woman who took me in as her own . . . now you,” her voice cracked and she leaned on the table to steady herself. “What am I to do if something happens to you?”

  As angry as I was at her for distrusting Greer, I felt pity for her. I walked over and hugged her.

  “I understand how you feel. We have gone through so much in the past few months. You are right. Greer has been there through all of these happenings, but he has been the reason I am still alive.”

  At my last words, she stiffened and threw my arms off her, “Stop trying to defend him Aislin. It will not work. This is how I feel.”

  ********************

  At dinner, my father talked about the news going through town and how all the slaveholders were becoming anxious by Lamont's presence.

  “There are rumblings that this Lamont chap might be trying to kill off all the slaves, and their owners are getting nervous about it. Many of the townsmen cannot afford to replace the slaves that Lamont may have executed. The end result is that many are starting to question his techniques.”

  I kept my head down and listened. I needed to gather as much information as I could so I could help Becky and her family, as well as everyone else that was now apparently in peril.

  “What has aroused their suspicion?” my mother asked.

  “Well, apparently after Martha was discovered to be dead, Lamont lost his temper. He was demanding an explanation from the soldiers who were supposed to be guarding her. One of the soldiers curiously recounted that they became very tired and fell asleep, as though they were drugged. Lamont did not accept this story and in his anger, he struck the guard so hard that he broke the poor fellow's jaw. Between that and the interrogation of the slaves, many of the townsmen are fed up,” my father said in between bites.

  “What are they planning to do?” my mother asked, as she refilled my father’s glass with water.

  “Well for one thing, they are going to the church for a meeting. The townsmen are starting to talk about pressing Lamont for answers. Some of the men believe there is a connection between when he showed up in town and when the killings started.”

  His words caught my attention, “Do they really believe that Lamont is behind the attacks?”

  My father wiped his mouth with his napkin and nodded, “Some do, although most do not. Apparently, he was spotted at the Marthaler's when we all went to investigate the livestock slaughter. People are starting to place him with the attacks. Did you know that he was at the Ball the night that Zachariah died?” he said casually.

  “Yes . . . I knew,” I stood from the table and cleared my place, and then went to my room to think.

  CHAPTER THRITY-SIX

  January 10th 1735

  Things had grown quiet in the past weeks time. The townsmen have questioned Lamont’s tactics, and the Governor heard an earful from those who did not want to lose money over hysteria

  Although the Governor did not like being questioned by mere subjects, he was a very savvy politician and knew when he needed to take the displeasure of his supporters into account. He, in turn, told the Minister that the witch-hunt was officially disbanded. Lamont's only concern was to find the creature that killed Clement and he would continue to provide the soldiers for the hunt. The Governor did not want another person executed or interrogated on his watch.

  Becky and I believed that Lamont's powers were decreasing and that he no longer had the ability to hold both the Governor and the Minister under his hex.

  “He needed my mother's powers to stay strong and now he is being cut off from all chances of regaining his strength,” said Becky, as she looked out the window
of my room.

  “If he has grown as weak as we suspect, do you think that he will give up his hunt for me?” I asked hopefully.

  “No,” Greer replied as he pet Sneachta, “He was defiantly searching for something at Becky's and I'm guessing he's looking for a protection charm.”

  “He is a powerful sorcerer… so what is keeping him from casting a charm on another amulet?” Becky thought aloud, as she flopped on the bed next to me.

  “Well, I know Martha told me that charming an item takes strong magic and involved rituals. Some even require a specific moon phase, so maybe he has not had time yet. Or perhaps he needs a more ancient magic to deflect our spells the way he used to . . .” I trailed off.

  “You are saying that there is a chance he can regain his strength if he gets to the right moon cycle?” Greer asked anxiously.

  “Aye,” I replied, “I do not know which phase he would need. My book does not contain every spell known to man, just the ones that my ancestors have put in it.”

  “So we are once again blind,” Becky groaned.

  “No. We still have our own magic,” I said as I lit a candle, “We can figure out what he is up to.”

  ********************

  Becky sealed the room with her mother's black salt and chanted as she worked. I cast a circle and sat in the center of it, as Greer listened at the door to make sure that my father did not come barging into my room.

  In the center of the circle, I placed a candle and my scrying bowl. I asked the Goddess to send me guidance and then placed my attention into the water.

  I could hear Greer pacing the room, Sneachta flicking her tail, and Becky chanting as she consulted her ancestors. I breathed in deeply and concentrated all my energy on the flat sheet of water that was before me. Finally, all the noises around me dissipated and images appeared.

  “The past,” my guide told me as I saw myself at the Governor's Ball and my hand pulling the amulet from the neck of Lamont. I saw it shatter and then the image faded. I saw him flicker into view as he walked through the trees at Rebecca's house after killing her family. I saw him waiting for the power to fill and revitalize him, but it never came. Another image appeared—I was with Martha and she was teaching me to manipulate the element of fire. The image faded again. I was now looking down one of Burlington's side streets. I was standing behind the market house, and my mother was inside the building rolling pumpkins. It was the day before Samhain.

  “Look closely,” my guide said, as I leaned forward, my nose almost touching the glassy water. I watched as my figure moved down the side street. Then I saw a little boy, his back was to me, and he was sitting on the ground by himself. He was playing with a toy and it hung in the air before him. He used his magic to spin it repeatedly and made it dance. He laughed. Then another little boy crept from the shadows and yanked the doll from the air . . . It was Mathew Marthaler and the other little boy was Isaac.

  That was why Mathew wanted the tattered little doll. That was why he had tried to steal it from Isaac . . . Isaac is a witch. I pulled myself from the scrying bowl.

  “Stay!” The guide said forcefully, as I tried to pull myself from the images.

  My heart was pounding as the image changed. I saw a small house and a group of soldiers lingering about. One man was distinct from the rest. He was in a long black coat and he wore heavy black boots. I did not need the spirits to show me his face. I already knew it was Lamont.

  A tall soldier was looming over Becky and her husband Pete. They were being interrogated at a table by the window. I followed Lamont as he walked away from the crowded table. He was searching for something.

  Lamont sensed something; he walked to the cabin’s front door and opened it. He stood in the doorway and stared out into the front courtyard where Isaac was playing with his little doll in the snow. Lamont watched as the child made his toy fly through the air.

  A horrible realization overcame me. Lamont was not looking for an amulet in the slave quarters…he was looking for a witch who’s powers he could steal…he is going to kill Isaac!

  “Isaac!” Becky and I screamed simultaneously.

  ********************

  Without another word, we fled from the room. Greer followed close behind us as we sped passed my mother and father, not bothering to answer their questions as we raced from the house and into the street. Greer grabbed us and took us both to the slave quarters more quickly than Becky and I could run, even at our accelerated pace.

  Becky ran to her friend's home who was supposed to be watching Isaac, but her friend said that the soldiers had come into the quarters again and caused a great commotion. Many of the children were still hiding in fright.

  Becky burst through the front door of her home and we started searching the house for her child.

  “Isaac, Isaac!” she screamed, and we ran about, knocking over anything under which he could be hiding. He was not there. It was as though he had vanished.

  Becky ran to her neighbors and started questioning if they had seen her son. None had. They had not seen him all day, and most thought that he was with her. Pete was working at the Smith's stables and had not taken Isaac with him. He felt that Isaac was far too small to be around horses.

  Becky and I did not hesitate, we ran west into the woods, and then south towards the Leeds' home. It was hidden deep in the surrounding forests, and the shed where Lamont was lodging was a little ways passed the main house. The home was far from the main town and we had a long run before us, but neither of us stopped, we simply ran as hard and as fast as we could.

  It was still light out, but as we ran further into the pine forest, the visibility decreased. The deeper we went into the woods, the more light was filtered out, until eventually the shadows started to meld together.

  Night would be coming soon. Winter brought the moon out so early that we would be racing through darkness in no time.

  I felt branches whip against my face as I ran. I felt a few stings as my skin was slashed from the thorns, but I did not stop. Greer had gone up ahead to be a sentry and I followed close behind Becky.

  “What are we going to do?” I panted, as we continued to leap over rocks and press our way passed the thicket.

  “I do not know. We just need to get Isaac back.” Becky was transfixed on her son.

  I understood that, but I also knew that Lamont would not be so willing to let us just walk into his residence and take the boy. As I thought of that, the realization came over me. We were walking into a trap.

  “Becky stop,” I gasped, as I reached for her arm.

  “We have no time,” she said, as she twisted her arm free.

  As Becky lunged back into a sprint, I followed. We were coming passed Rebecca's home and I felt my stomach lurch as I thought of her. I knew that Becky was thinking the same thoughts and she quickened her pace even further.

  “Becky we have to think,” I ran up next to her when the thick forest would allow it. We were beginning to descend on the Leeds' property and did not have too much time left to formulate a plan.

  “Aislin. He has my son. I cannot wait! I have to get to him!”

  “Ok,” I agreed, “You go to Isaac . . . I'll distract Lamont,” I said breathlessly.

  She stopped in her tracks and leaned on an old tree, panting and clutching her sides.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We have to split up. I will distract him and you get Isaac . . . and Becky? Run. Do not look back for me. Do not even think of helping me. Just take Isaac and flee.”

  “I cannot leave you,” she protested.

  “I have Greer for help . . . just get Isaac to safety,” I huffed. Every time I inhaled, I felt pain shooting across my rib cage.

  We gave each other one last look—a look of goodbye, and then lunged into a gallop again.

  We had reached the Leeds' home. I stood in the thicket on the periphery of the property and surveyed it. The house was a dingy grey color. It looked dilapidated and haunted. The front yard
was cleared of trees and covered in snow. There was no cover to be found if we took the straight route towards the shed.

  Suddenly, I could hear a woman screaming. I stopped in my tracks, holding my breath so I would not be heard. I listened, praying that Lamont was not killing again.

  I watched Becky back away from where I stood and she retreated into the forest. She was going around to the backside of the house to reach the shed.

  All but one of the windows in the Leeds' home was sealed shut. The bedroom window on the second floor was wide open. I could see people moving around and someone dumped a bucket of water out the window as another woman yelled, “Push Lucy! You must push.”

  Mrs. Leeds must have been giving birth to her next child. The thirteenth, if I remembered correctly. I looked back to where Becky had been, but she now had disappeared into the heavy undergrowth that bordered the unkempt property.

  The shed was only about one hundred yards away from where I stood. Becky was making her way to the back of it. I was not sure if I should just knock on the front door, or look around to see if he was walking about. I decided to circle around in the tree line opposite to Becky, but new noises caught my attention and I froze.

  I could hear men talking in the distance and the whinnying of horses. The Governor's soldiers were moving ever closer. Perhaps they heard Mrs. Leeds' screams or maybe this was just their usual rounds, but either way, I was going to be caught and I had no explanation for being this far from town so late in the day.

  I pressed my back against a large dead tree that was close to where I stood and tried to soften my silhouette against the blanket of white snow.

  “Aislin,” Greer whispered, as he reached for me and pulled me into a thicket.