by Candace Sams
"Go to bed, lad. If you're going to get up at the crack of dawn, you'll need some sleep."
"All right. Goodnight, Hugh. I'll see you in the morning."
Hugh watched as Blain left the room. Then he got up and used the fireplace poker to stir the ashes of the hexes and evil talismans burning there. There was some coal wrapped in black cloth, small dolls with pins stuck in them and poisoned herbs found on the farm earlier that day. "Black magic!" he angrily muttered to himself. "Whoever is using these things won't kill you, lad. I won't let them."
***
From the back seat, Afton glanced at the scenery as they drove. Then she focused her attention on the distinguished man in the driver's seat. Hugh McTavish was about Shayla's age. He had a thick pelt of white hair, the kindest blue eyes she'd ever seen, and he was tall and handsome. She had liked and trusted him her entire life, and she hoped to have a man like him love her one day.
She tactfully looked out the window again when Hugh lifted Shayla's hand and placed a small kiss on the back of it. Afton knew Shayla sorely missed her consort. Once, she had gotten the courage to ask Shayla why they had never handfasted. Rumors abounded about the reason, but she wanted to get the information straight from the source.
But Shayla had waved her hand in one of her typically empirical gestures and made some offhand comment about the fact that she and Hugh were as close as any handfasted couple could possibly be. That since they'd been together for so long, what good would a handfasting do, except take attention away from those couples who came forward on sacred nights and exchanged their vows?
That had sounded perfectly plausible to Afton, but she secretly wondered if the Sorceress might not be averse to commitment of that kind. Everyone had weaknesses and foibles. Maybe that was Shayla Gallagher's.
Knowing she'd never know Shayla's real reasons for not handfasting, she dragged her wandering thoughts back to the conversation being held in the front seat. Since he'd picked them up at the airport, Hugh had been filling Shayla in on all the information he knew about his young nephew, Blain.
"What are some of the signs of enchantment you first noticed?" Shayla asked.
Afton sat upright. Perhaps her daydreaming had been poorly timed. What enchantment'? This was the first time she'd heard of anything of the like.
"The animals began to sicken and go off their feed all at once and for no apparent reason," Hugh replied. "I didn't call a veterinarian when the wild yew I placed over the barn door worked overnight. That was what made me first suspect a foul presence. Then I found a willow wand lying by the road. The last thing I found was an evil hex sign on a tree in the woods. I came across it about two days ago. Blain just keeps getting more ill and tries to hide it."
"Stars," Afton gasped. "We're dealing with a Druid who's practicing black magic? You never told me about this, Shayla."
"Aye," Hugh agreed. "A black conjurer was my conclusion, exactly."
"Why would an evil presence like that want to harm Blain?" Afton leaned forward so that her arms rested on the backseat between the two older Druids.
"Either he's made some kind of powerful enemy or someone knows something of his heritage. It may be he has powers someone is trying to syphon off, or they're testing them. If the latter is true, then this evil presence could bring harm to the Order," Shayla answered, wrapping her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.
"I don't know of a single soul who'd really want to harm the lad. But in the short time I've been with him, I've learned there are a few who resent his presence," Hugh admitted.
"And who would that be?" Shayla asked.
"There's a widow named Hannah Biddies. Some time ago, when her husband was still alive, Mr. Biddies sold the best of his farmland to Arthur and Syndra. Uh, those are Blain's parents," Hugh explained, glancing at Afton. "That land now belongs to Blain. The woman has told everyone in town that she strongly objected to the sale. Her land, of course, adjoins Blain's."
"So she'd be close enough to come onto Blain's property in the night?" Afton asked.
"That's possible. But I think the woman is harmless, more bluster than anything."
"Who else?" Shayla questioned.
"There's the Reverend Myers. He resents Blain's relationship with a woman in town. He says it stirs up too much gossip."
"A woman?" Afton's eyes widened in astonishment. What kind of relationship could a boy have with a woman?
"Who is this person?" Shayla asked.
"Rhiannon Stone. She moved here from New York about three months ago and owns an antique store in town. The lady is quite lovely, and Blain spends a great deal of his spare time with her. What little spare time he has," Hugh added. "Harvest is a small place, and the good Reverend Myers resents anyone corrupting his flock by committing acts of a lecherous nature, as he puts it. Blain's relationship with Ms. Stone seems to anger him no end."
Shayla nodded. "That gives us two possibilities to check out, anyway."
"Excuse me, but I'm more than a bit confused," Afton interjected, her voice rising to emphasize her growing irritation. "No one told me that there was evil magic threatening Blain, and how in the world could a little boy have a relationship of the kind you're describing with a grown woman? That's positively disgusting."
Hugh and Shayla looked at one another and began to laugh.
Afton glared at them both. "What, may I ask, is so amusing?"
"Afton, how old did you think Blain was?" Hugh gasped out between laughs. "He's just over thirty."
"I was guessing he was only about ten or eleven," she responded. "How long had they been living, undetected, in this area?"
"They ran for more than thirty years, and lived in this community for the last five of those," Hugh answered. "Together, their magic hid and protected them well. No matter where they went, they'd move on if they thought anyone was closing in. When Syndra passed away, so did the power that hid Blain from the rest of the Order. I came looking for my brother, Arthur, and his mate, Syndra." He paused as if to compose himself and fight back sorrow, "I found their son instead. Though he's a good lad, I was devastated to learn both his parents had passed on only a short time before I got here."
Shayla patted Hugh's hand comfortingly.
"No wonder old Freyja wanted them found," Afton said. "The mating of two beings from different factions must have worried her terribly. Together, their powers might even have been greater than hers, and she had to fear that."
"Aye, exactly," Hugh nodded.
Afton looked at Shayla. "You didn't tell me someone practicing black magic wants to harm Blain. You should have done so before I decided to come on this trip." Afton sat back, crossed her arms over her chest and chewed on her lower lip in concern.
Shayla simply shrugged. "I needed you here, lass. Besides, would it have made any difference? This is a perfect chance for you to get away from England and the things distracting you there."
"I guess you're right, but from now on, please tell me everything."
"Whatever led you to believe Blain was a child?" Hugh quizzed Afton.
"I've only heard him referred to as boy or lad," she responded, glaring at Shayla.
"To us he is. Just as you're a lass or a girl." Shayla grinned.
Afton sat back in her seat and silently fumed over being referred to as anything other than a woman. She had a name, and they could use it instead of referring to her by a younger title. There were, after all, others her age whose powers were as lacking or worse than hers. Yet they weren't referred to in such a juvenile manner. It was a constant irritation to be given less respect than they.
She kept quiet and let the two older people talk to each other for the rest of the journey. Aside from the lack of general respect, she was also angry at having been deliberately deceived. Everything her mentor had said portrayed Blain as a young boy. But why Shayla would mislead her? Perhaps it was her mentor's way of testing her mettle.
But black magic such as they were describing was powerful. If she wasn'
t very careful, she could end up getting herself into a real mess. She shook her head and wondered what she would do with the model airplane she had carefully packed as a gift for Blain.
***
"Here we are," Hugh said as he drove up the narrow lane to the three story farmhouse.
"Oh, Hugh, it's lovely." Shayla clasped her hands together and smiled.
"It is nice, isn't it? Blain works very hard to keep things just right. He's quite a dedicated worker," Hugh bragged.
As far as Afton was concerned, he had something to brag about. The farmhouse was wonderfully warm and welcoming. It was built entirely of logs and had a porch running all the way around. In the front yard, colorful flowers bloomed abundantly in beds and containers. Stone fences contained fat cattle in nearby pastures. Thick woods surrounded the pastures and looked as though they stretched for some distance behind the house itself. Afton wondered what kind of man, outside those of the Order, loved flowers so much. But then, Blain wasn't really an outsider. He was just raised as one.
"Where is Blain?" Shayla asked as the car came to a stop. "I can already feel something wrong. There's an evil ambience surrounding the land."
Afton felt it, too. And if someone with her lack of powers could sense the evil, it was powerful indeed. She shivered, but her fears fled when a very tall, massively-built man of about thirty opened the front door of the house and strode toward the car. Afton's mouth went dry. She had never seen a man with shoulders quite so broad. With every step he took in their direction, he exuded a masculinity that was almost tangible. This was a person who physically worked hard every day of his life. Her image of him as a small boy dissipated forever.
What would happen when he found out his parents had been running from the old Sorceress' wrath for years? Without his parents' combined powers, Freyja would have found and killed all of them. It seemed someone was determined to continue that dark ambition.
Hugh helped Shayla out of the car and began the introductions. "Shayla Gallagher, this is my nephew, Blain McTavish."
Afton watched the older man's face light up with pride. Surely, there was much to be proud of. Blain was one-hundred percent pure warrior.
"By the stars," Shayla murmured as her hand came to rest within Blain's, "you're the image of your father. But you have Syndra's lovely, gray-green eyes. Hello, Blain."
Blain liked the woman immediately. There was something strong, dignified and trustworthy in the older woman's gray gaze. Though time had weathered her features, her face was uncommonly beautiful. No wonder Hugh had wanted her to come to Harvest for a visit. It seemed his uncle was a sly old fox with an eye for definite femininity, and he wondered if Hugh wouldn't be letting Shayla stay in his bedroom after all.
"Hello, Shayla. I'm so glad you were able to come. Hugh has told me about you." Blain offered his best smile and gently took the hand she held out. The second their palms touched, Blain felt some kind of energy go through his entire body. But the sensation wasn't sickening or debilitating. It actually made him feel stronger and more in command. And he had the strangest feeling that Shayla Gallagher was more than she appeared to be.
"Come, meet Afton O'Malley." Shayla stepped aside and drew him to where a young woman stood, transfixed, near the rear of the car.
He gazed into summer blue eyes and, for a moment, forgot to speak. But only for a brief moment. "Hello, Afton. I hope you enjoy your stay," he said lamely and held out his hand.
As her hand slid into his, his first thought was that he'd never seen eyes so blue or a face so pretty. Strangely, pictures began to enter his consciousness. He looked at her and imagined a summer day, fields of flowers and sunshine. Her light brown hair was pulled back with a white scarf and when she smiled, the sweetest dimples appeared. She was truly an enchanting girl. Freckles faintly dotted her sweet face with its perfect, even features. Her slim body invited closer inspection. She could only be summed up in one word. Adorable.
Something about her radiated innocence, laughter and fun. And why did a picture of her walking through a thick forest wearing a white robe enter his mind? As bizarre as the image should have been, it somehow seemed right. The thought of it made him want to hold her hand longer, to imagine more. But his gaze came back to her eyes again. They were gorgeous.
"Blain, are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to help me with the luggage?" Hugh's voice broke into Blain's obvious gawking.
"Coming," Blain reluctantly dropped her hand and grabbed the nearest bag Hugh placed on the ground. He was embarrassed at having stood and stared at Afton for so long. She'd think he'd never seen a woman before, or that he was some ignorant plow boy. Hugh had told him Shayla would be bringing an assistant, but he hadn't mentioned her age, or the fact that she was one finely-crafted piece of work.
***
"Sorry I wasn't able to go to the airport with Hugh, but I had a feeder to fix. My livestock couldn't get food without it," Blain said after sipping at his second cup of coffee and looking around the dinner table at his guests.
"No problem, dear boy. We quite understand." Shayla reached out and patted his arm.
Afton watched her mentor closely. The old woman was absolutely gushing over Blain. It seemed that every syllable the man uttered was of vital importance to her. Afton had never seen the Sorceress behave in such a way. Shayla had always been more reserved and dignified, tending to be aloof with everyone except Hugh.
Then Afton turned her attention toward Blain and saw the unusual grey-green eyes of many of the fairy race. He wore his thick hair tapered long in the back. It curled near his collar, and the breeze blowing through an open kitchen window pushed strands of it over his forehead. She had to physically stop herself from raising her hand to push them away. Like his forebears, he had a noble countenance. His jaw was square and his expression intelligent. The power of his bright smile invaded her senses. She'd almost swear she was being enchanted with fairy power, but she had little experience with such things. Gawain had throttled the only fairy who had ever tried to come near her.
"So, Afton, are you from Cornwall, too?" Blain leaned forward, propped both elbows on the table and held his coffee cup between his hands.
"Yes, my parents and brothers all lived there, but we've made our home north of London in recent years." Afton wasn't sure how much she should reveal. If he knew she came from a family of Druids and that they lived in an enchanted forest, what would he say?
"You're the youngest. Right?"
"How did you know?"
"Just a guess."
"What crops do you grow on your farm?" Shayla asked as she accepted a cup of tea Hugh brought to the table.
"Right now, I'm putting in corn, pumpkins, tomatoes and some other summer crops. I expect to have a good year. But then the land here is very fertile. I haven't had a failing crop yet."
"I remember Syndra had an amazingly green thumb," Shayla remarked as she added cream to her tea and stirred it slowly.
"She did. I learned practically everything I know from her. I went to an agricultural college for a while, took night courses. But everything that really matters came from Mom. Of course,
Dad knew everything there was to know about herbs. Even wild ones. Both of them were always in the woods or the garden." Blain stopped speaking, the memories suddenly becoming too painful.
Afton watched Blain's expression as he spoke of his parents. They hadn't been dead all that long, and he obviously missed them. There was no hiding the sadness in his beautiful eyes.
"They'd be proud of what you've done here, lad," Hugh said as he lit his briar pipe.
"I'd like to think so. I've kept everything as they would have wanted it and made some improvements we'd discussed. But I'm afraid I haven't had time to complete the new plans Mom had for her herb garden. Maybe I can get to it later in the summer."
"Were these plans on paper or just something you talked about?" Shayla asked as she put down her tea cup.
"She drew a rough blueprint, but she
never got the chance to start the job. Her heart just gave out." He paused and looked out the back screen door. He desperately needed to be outdoors, though the obsessive feeling was not as bad as usual. For some reason, he really did feel better.
"May I see the plans she drew?" Shayla quietly asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Blain wasn't sure he wanted anyone else looking them over. He hadn't brought them out for a very long time, and doing so would open a book of memories he'd tried to bury. But he had to get on with his life. After a moment of hesitation, he finally pushed himself away from the table. Several minutes later, he returned with a long, rolled up length of paper and spread it out on the table so Shayla could look at the drawing.
"This is wonderful," she said as her fingers slid over the sketch. "All of the old-fashioned plants are here. All of the most powerful curatives. Come and see Afton."
Afton moved from her seat at the far end of the table and stood to look over Shayla's left shoulder. She nodded in agreement. "This is grand. It's a perfect place for fairies." She could have bitten her tongue off at her careless remark, but Hugh and Shayla didn't seem the least bit annoyed.
Blain smiled, pleased by her reaction. "It's funny you should say that. Mom said exactly the same thing when she finished the design. For some crazy reason, she loved fairies and anything to do with them. She joked that it was a childhood interest."
Hugh, Shayla, and Afton all glanced at each other meaningfully.
"She told you she believed in fairies?" Afton asked.
"She believed in everything," he responded with a slow smile. "Mom was a dreamer. I think she and Dad believed the whole world could be a better place if more folks loved nature and kept an open mind about such things."
"And what do you believe?" Shayla asked, her gaze meeting his.
For a time he didn't answer. Then he shrugged. "I believe I'd better get to bed. I've got a lot of work to do tomorrow. Good night, everyone."
With that, he nodded, rose and left the room. As he walked upstairs, Blain felt he should have made an effort to quiz Shayla Gallagher about his parents and her relationship with them. But some sixth sense told him she probably wouldn't answer his questions. At least, not yet. And there was a kind of...aura about the woman. When he'd shaken hands with her, he'd sensed a great strength—the way a person might feel if they were standing in the presence of a leader.