Fairytale Christmas

by Merrie Destefano

  Kellen was a handsome Duine, that much was certain.

  “My children?” I asked.

  “Asleep by the fire, like good little puppies.”

  I wasn’t quite sure if he understood that they were my sons or not. For now, keeping their identity a secret seemed like a good idea—because something wasn’t right. It wasn’t just my headache or the weariness I felt from battling nightmarish creatures during my fever. The poison had left its mark on me, sure enough, and I longed to stay in bed. But I couldn’t.

  The voice that had been tormenting me for days, maybe weeks, had vanished. I should have been happy. Instead, my heart filled with dread.

  The only time demons are quiet is when they are busy doing dark deeds.

  I turned around, surveying the cottage.

  “Where is my sword?” I asked. “My cloak?”

  “The sword is there.” Kellen pointed toward a far corner and I hurried across the room to pick up the blade, testing its weight, its balance, and its sharp cutting edge. ‘Twas a good weapon, even if I didn’t recognize the metal.

  “But if I recall, you had no cloak when you came here. You wore no clothes but my own,” he said, one eyebrow raised, a teasing lilt to his words.

  Another memory came back swiftly, me changing from a bear to my own skin back in the forest. How he had taken off his cloak to cover me and then later gave me his tunic.

  No other man saw my nakedness on that day. No one, but him.

  For a moment I remembered how it had felt, leaning back into his arms as we rode here on a tall white horse. I knew now was not the right time to dwell on such things.

  But it was hard to stop thinking about it.

  Just then something caught my attention, something outside. It wasn’t quite a sound, more like a shifting shadow creeping past the window. The skin on my arms chilled and I gripped the hilt of my sword tighter. I tilted my head, thinking, listening.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked, walking to the window and staring outside. All I could see was the snow, falling swift and thick, a white shroud that covered everything near and far. It was so quiet.

  Only magic could make everything so silent.

  It was as quiet as death.

  Fourteen

  “The cloak your daughter took. Was it yours?” I asked.

  Kellen frowned, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Maybe. What’s wrong, Eire?’

  Stars and moon, it felt good to hear him say my name. It was better than a sigh. But I had to be very careful not to fall prey to these emotions. Not now. All these feelings could be part of the spell.

  “Outside, quickly!” I said.

  Only one faery was strong enough to craft a spell like this. Faelan. He may be still across the Muir Éireann but, with his blood magic and his human servants, perhaps he could do more than I had imagined. All this time, I thought he was threatening my children.

  Now I realized it was probably Isleen he was after.

  She was the blood sacrifice that would hurt us the most.

  It would slice through Kellen swifter than any blade. I couldn’t bear to see either of them hurt, not the child or the father.

  I threw the door open and ran outside. By now, my wolf cubs had woken up and they immediately sensed the danger. The three of us charged out the door, one right after another. Kellen was a step behind us, his bow and arrows ready.

  The snow blinded us, it stung and turned our faces to ice. It didn’t stop my wolves though. Both of them snarled, teeth bared, hackles up. They braced the wind and stared into it with glowing eyes, a low rumbling growl in their throats.

  “Isleen!” Kellen yelled.

  “Find her, boys!” I told my pups and they charged off. Kellen and I had to scramble to keep up with them. We left the cottage door open, yellow light spilling out onto a blue-white horizon. Through the trees and over a bridge we ran, over a path of slippery stones and up a steep hill. All the while, we raced and called out her name.

  For a moment, we were lost and none of us knew which way to turn. All around us, the snow fell even harder and I couldn’t see my own feet beneath me.

  “This way,” Kellen said after a heartbeat, for he knew this land better than we did. “The devil’s-bit root patch is over there.”

  What would happen if Faelan hurt Isleen, I worried as we ran. Would Kellen turn against me, like Greagoir had?

  With one well-placed blade, Faelan could destroy the future I hadn’t even realized I wanted until now.

  I wanted to stay here, on this small farm, near Kellen and Isleen. I wanted to protect them. I wanted to set my boys free from their magic spell.

  I wanted to live the life of a human woman, to choose a man for love, instead of duty.

  “Follow the drops of blood,” I said, pointing at the snow. A large full moon peeked out from behind low clouds, just long enough for us to see a path of tiny red droplets. They were few and hard to see, but Ambros and Benen could smell them.

  ‘Twas blood from Greagoir’s heart, still in the pocket of the cloak Isleen was wearing. Still beating, it was calling to its owner.

  “‘Tis me you want, Greagoir!” I cried out. “Let the girl go. Take me instead. You know Faelan won’t be happy until you’ve killed me.”

  “Here,” he called back to me, from somewhere just over the nearest ridge.

  “Ambros and Benen, come to me!” I cried. They didn’t want to obey, for they were both hunting and eager to find the strange bit of flesh that teased them. “Come here!”

  The banshee voice of mine caught them and pulled them back, though they whined all the way.

  “I release you from this enchantment. Be free,” I said. “You may be wolves whenever you wish, from this moment forward. But your true shape will always be that of the Tuatha de Danann.”

  Stars glistened around the pair of them, a whirlwind of snow and frost enveloped and hid them; when it faded, their white fur melted and they turned back into little boys, one fair-haired, the other dark. They shivered, for they were now naked.

  Kellen was not startled at the sight of them. He must have known what they were all along. He merely paused long enough to remove his shirt and hood, and gave his clothing to my lads.

  Then we all set off for the top of the ridge and the monster who held sweet Isleen.

  Fifteen

  My feet slid, my skirts tangled between my legs, my long hair blew in my eyes, and yet, I was always able to keep the sword—Greagoir’s sword made from this strange new silver metal—in battle position. I was ready to strike. Every muscle in my body sang, my blood ran hot, and the magic in my soul began to spill out.

  I began to sing.

  Snow and frost, capture Greagoir, hold him fast, make him freeze, make his hands tremble, make him set the child free—

  And with my song came courage, enough for all of us. We sorely needed it.

  We had to win this battle, one way or another. If I did not take Greagoir’s head, then he would take mine. Either way, I would win. Isleen would be set free and Kellen would take care of my boys. He had already vowed it when we were riding through the forest to get here.

  He was a man of his word.

  We all crested the last ridge at the same moment, then we paused to get our bearings. Down below us, in the hollow, surrounded by a grove of oak trees, there stood Greagoir, looking as frightening as Caorthannach herself—the mother of all demons. One arrow was still plunged through his chest, another through his left thigh, and one more through his right eye. His right hand had been ripped down the center and now hung in two ragged pieces. Two of the arrows had broken off and looked like wooden knives, but the arrow that pierced his eye was intact and fierce. Yet, not one drop of blood fell from any of his wounds.

  His chest was ripped open, my claw marks on his flesh, a gaping wound where his heart should have been.

  He was a walking nightmare.

  And he clutched Isleen around the throat with his left hand. She trembled, her feet barely touch
ing the ground, her hands grasping at air.

  Isleen.

  Kellen raised his bow and aimed it at the Leanan Sidhe beast.

  “Shoot me again and your precious daughter dies, hunter,” Greagoir said. “Or better yet, she joins me for all of eternity, a companion in my darkness.”

  He leaned nearer, jaws opening, teeth poised to bite her shoulder.

  I did not hesitate. I raced down the hill toward him, singing one last song to the snow and the frost, commanding them to obey me. My attention remained fixed upon Greagoir’s teeth.

  I must stop his bite. Nothing else mattered.

  “Drop her, you foul creature, or your death will linger for thousands of years,” I told him as I continued to bridge the gap between us. “I’ll chain you to rocks in the Muir Éireann and you’ll drown three times every day as the tides come in, three slow deaths every day. For all of eternity.”

  He laughed. “Death doesn’t frighten me. But disobeying Faelan? Now, that is something to be terrified of.”

  “Then release her,” I said. “Faelan wants me. Here I am.”

  “Let her go,” Kellen growled, a few steps behind me. My sons had turned back into wolves, and they both growled and howled as they approached—though there was something different about their howls, something plaintive and worrisome. I couldn’t take my gaze off Greagoir, but I sensed movement as if an army was slowly, stealthily creeping toward us. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I braced myself to fight whatever might be heading our way.

  Friend or foe, I didn’t know and I didn’t care.

  Only one enemy mattered.

  The fiend right before me.

  “Let her go or I’ll make sure Faelan knows about your great failure,” I said, inching closer to him.

  Greagoir flinched, just a bit, and his head lifted away from Isleen so he could speak.

  “What failure?” he asked.

  “This one.”

  Before those words even left my mouth, I kicked Isleen out of his grasp. His thick claws left long deep scratches on her throat and her blood began to pour out onto the snow. It was a risk I had to take and I hoped that Kellen would be able to pull her to safety and stop her bleeding, because I had other things to do.

  I swung my blade, the sword that had belonged to my enemy but now listened only to me. My song rang out as my blade whistled through the air in a bright silver arc. Snow and ice and frost grew around Greagoir until he was encased in a hard, icy shell.

  He screamed and fought the ice, but my song kept it in place.

  My blade continued to swing, a song of death that came to a crescendo when it sliced through his neck. His expression froze, wide-eyed, mouth open in a scream that would never end, and his head stayed where it was for one impossible moment. Then it flew off his body and through the night air.

  At that same moment, an army of wolves howled around us, their unearthly cries piercing my soul. The wild dogs raced out of the trees, first fighting over Greagoir’s head until it was completely devoured, then they ripped Kellen’s cloak to shreds and ate Greagoir’s heart.

  Finally, they charged, all at once, leaping at his frozen body until the ice casing shattered. They snarled and growled, taking large bites, chewing and fretting and swallowing. Bones cracked, leathery flesh shredded, muscles tore and snapped. It all happened within a matter of moments. Before any of us could step out of the way, Greagoir vanished, bit by gruesome bit, until finally, the army of wolves loped off into the shadowed woods, their bellies full.

  The leader paused and looked back at my sons.

  He howled, long and soulful, and my boys returned the cry. But thankfully they stayed with me.

  When all the wild wolves had fled, there was nothing left of Greagoir. Nothing but the arrows that Kellen had shot at him.

  The wolves had denied their natural instinct to attack the wounded Isleen, whose blood now stained the snow. I said a long, heartfelt blessing upon the pack and its leader.

  Then I turned toward the child.

  She wasn’t moving.

  Sixteen

  Tears ran down Kellen’s face as he tried to stop Isleen’s bleeding. He’d ripped the hem off her dress and fashioned a makeshift bandage from it, but already the fabric was soaked through and dark red.

  “I can’t—it’s not working—” Kellen said.

  “Here,” I said. I put my hand on Isleen’s throat and I conjured all of my magic, singing and casting a spell at the same time. “Help me, lads,” I told my children. “Say a spell and a prayer for her, quickly.” Then I commanded Isleen. “Look at me, child, and listen, this song is for you—”

  My song rose and fell, it wound around us and it rang from the top of the mountain to the deepest valley, it made all the rivers shiver and all the rocks tremble, it stopped every hunter in his tracks, it woke every sleeper in her bed, it made all the woodland creatures stop and listen. No sound was uttered anywhere on this mountain, save my song and the song of my children, our voices blending perfectly, the harmony sounding like a choir of angels.

  Isleen looked at me, her eyes dark and heavy with pain. She blinked. She almost fell into the long sleep of death, but I pulled her back. It was as if one of my hands reached into the abyss and refused to release her.

  She might pull me with her, but I would not let go.

  I sang until my entire body ached, until the stars in heaven shimmered in time to my song, until a whirlwind of ice and snow and frost swirled around us—

  Come back to us, child, come back now—

  She blinked again, long and slow, her mouth opened.

  You will live, Isleen, a long and prosperous life—

  Her bandage came undone and slipped to the snow.

  This is your world, come back, stay with us—

  The long claw marks on her throat began to fade away.

  Countless blessings await you and your children and your children’s children. Come back—

  She glanced up at her father and gave him a small smile. One of her hands reached out to him and he gingerly took her in his arms. Her other hand reached out and took mine. I held it fast as I continued to sing, noting the color returning to her cheeks, the warmth of her touch, the shine in her eyes.

  Kellen lifted his gaze to look at me, his eyes wet with tears. When he spoke, it was the first sound I allowed anyone or anything to speak throughout my song.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  I nodded.

  But I heard something else in his words. Something silent, something I think may have been growing between us since I first heard his voice, back in the cave.

  I don’t know how or when it began, I only know that I felt it too.

  It was as if there was an unspoken vow between us.

  Something beautiful had been born on this most horrible night, when evil tried to reign and rule and destroy.

  On this night, love conquered all and it drove the darkness away.

  Seventeen

  The next few weeks passed swiftly as Kellen and I took turns tending to Isleen. I wasn’t completely certain she would recover. When she began to push us away and walk about the cottage on her own—that was when I knew she would be well soon. Her voice remained a whisper for a very long time and, later, when she became a woman it had a low dusky quality to it that would cause many a man to stop and listen, spellbound.

  ‘Tis often the side-effect of magic.

  My sons had it too, though in a different way. They never lost their love for their wolf fur. It got to the point that I often had to remind them to dress in Tuatha de Danann skin when they were inside the house.

  They became good friends with the wolf pack that had joined forces with us on that fateful night. The pack leader became a trusted friend, too, and came to visit us often. I even taught him how to speak like a human, so he frequently dined with us, telling us tales about what had happened in the wood. His pack guarded the cottage for as long as they lived—which was a very long time, f
or they had all eaten Leanan Sidhe flesh and it possessed strange immortal qualities I had not suspected.

  Perhaps the least surprising thing that happened was that Kellen began to fall in love with me, as I had with him.

  Faeries fall in love quickly. It leads to much heartache when we fall for the wrong person. I never had to deal with a Duine courtship before, but I was immortal, so Kellen’s slow pace was fine with me.

  It was like the building of a fire.

  The smallest things caught first. Sparks lit up the edges of bark, moss, and dry leaves; then tiny flames licked at twigs and small pieces of wood; and finally, large logs and chunks of peat were engulfed in a roaring blaze.

  His hand on my shoulder while we cooked a meal together. His smile when we laughed at how our children loved to chase one another through the forest.

  His tears when I said it was time for my boys and me to leave.

  “Where will you go when the winter is still so fierce?” he asked. He stared into the fire, I think trying to hide his emotion. Hadn’t he already lost his wife? But he had never said that he loved me and it wasn’t right for me to be here.

  “Across the Muir Éireann, I think,” I said. “To Alba.”

  “There’s no home waiting for you there.”

  “Kellen, I have no home in all of Ireland. I cannot stay here, expecting you to feed us and care for us. We’ve been taking advantage of your generous nature for far too long.”

  He turned to face me. “This could be your home. If you would have it.”

  I paused. “What are you saying?”

  He swallowed and his gaze darted away. He took a deep breath, then another. At that point, he seemed to fill with courage and I was glad for it.

  “I love you, Eire. I have from the first time I saw you, back in the cave.”

  My pulse quickened, for I think I had fallen for him back then too. Even before I saw his face or felt the warmth of his smile or was cheered by the light in his eyes. He had shown me the kindness of a friend when I was trapped in darkness.