Awen Rising

by O J Barré

  A knock on the door startled her. Three short raps, silence, then three more. She leapt to peer through the peephole, heart thudding.

  Lugh MacBrayer loomed on her doorstep, larger than life. What did the priest want? She fluffed her hair in the foyer mirror and opened the door, unable to keep the smile from her face. “Well hello, you.”

  But something was wrong. Lugh stepped inside and as Emily turned the deadbolt, he rounded on her, face glowing accusatory red.

  “What in the hell was Mitchell talking about? Who is Shalane Carpenter and what is she to you?”

  Not liking his tone, Emily turned her back and made for the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?” she tossed over her shoulder in a nonchalant tone.

  “I asked you a question!” Lugh growled and grabbed her arm, twirling her to face him.

  Emily reflexively shifted her weight, seized a hairy forearm, and flipped the warrior deftly to his derriere right in the middle of her front hall.

  The shocked priest scrambled to all fours.

  Emily rubbed her arm and said, chin in air, “You hurt me.”

  Then she pranced down the hall toward the kitchen. She had finally bested her combat teacher. Finally, finally, finally.

  Behind her, Lugh grunted, “Talk to me, Em. Is what Mitch said true? Did this Carpenter woman teach you witchcraft?”

  Though his voice held a touch of anguish, the implication rankled. Plus, he’d made no mention of her first takedown.

  Emily turned in the doorway to face the priest. “Yes.”

  Lugh’s face fell. She laid a hand on his shoulder and gave him what she knew he really needed.

  “But not like Mitchell said. He made that shit up about the weather.”

  Puzzlement wrinkled the dark brow. Lugh rubbed the back of his head and consulted the clock above the stove.

  “It’s not even noon, but I find myself needing a drink. Did I see beer in your refrigerator?”

  Emily chuckled. “It’s five-o-clock somewhere.”

  Retrieving two long-necked bottles, she handed one to him, twisted the top off the other, and tilted it to clink against his.

  “Nice move back there, by the way.” Lugh gestured toward the hall. “Bottoms up.”

  Emily beamed at the belated acknowledgement and murmured, “Cheers.” She took a tiny sip of the peach-flavored lager, unwilling to repeat the morning’s hangover. “Come in and sit. I’ll tell you about the shaman.”

  They moseyed to the living room and perched on the edge of the aubergine sofa. The fire Emily had stoked earlier blazed. Ralph napped beside it on the hearth.

  Setting her full bottle on the end table, Emily drew a fortifying breath and faced the druid priest.

  “Last year, a friend introduced me to a shaman named Shalane Carpenter. I didn’t know at the time that she was also an evangelist, but that makes what happened even more bizarre.

  “Shalane told me in a reading that I am a ‘powerful being.’ Others had told me this before, but I didn’t feel powerful. I still don’t.” She pulled a Kleenex from her pocket and shredded it systematically.

  “Shalane said she could teach me. Help me find my power. I was curious and decided to train with her. Then things got weird. She became more and more controlling and obsessed. So, I did what I do best. I quit.” Emily peeked sideways at Lugh to gauge his reaction.

  “Sounds to me like that was the right move. Knowing when to quit is not a bad thing, Emily.”

  The compliment landed. It felt good to come clean. She hurried to get the rest out.

  “Then the stalking began. Shalane called me, texted, emailed, begged, offered free lessons, promised not to ride me so hard, anything if I would come back. But her actions only confirmed my apprehension.” Remembering all Shalane’s crazy stunts, Emily shuddered.

  “I was spooked, Lugh. I moved to another city, let my hair go native, and even changed my name to get away from that woman.”

  Lugh set his beer on the table. “And now she’s found you. I’m sorry, Emily.”

  He took her hand and leaned closer, black eyes gleaming. “I want you to know that as long as I’m around, Shalane Carpenter will not bother you. I promise.”

  The words melted Emily’s defenses.

  A shock of wavy hair fell across Lugh’s forehead and he brushed it back. His tone hardened. “But how would Mitch know about Shalane?”

  Defensive again, Emily stood and warmed her backside by the fire. The priest was pushing all her buttons today.

  “I didn’t tell him, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  Lugh glared and tapped a foot on the floor. She knew she hadn’t answered his question.

  “Remember the day Finn brought Da home?”

  Lugh nodded.

  “After everyone left, Mitchell stopped by Wren’s Roost to inform me that Shalane Carpenter had called his office looking for me.”

  At Lugh’s startled expression, she added, “It was bound to happen—we’ve been all over the national news. Anyhow, he said Shalane was performing at the Fox Theater in April and would leave two tickets for me at Will-Call.”

  “Are you going?” he asked, brows high.

  “Hell no! I’ve had enough of Shalane Carpenter and people like her for ten lifetimes, thank you.”

  The lines around Lugh’s eyes relaxed. “So, you don’t do witch magic?”

  Emily chuckled. “No, not really. Only what you guys have taught me.”

  “So not much,” Lugh snickered.

  “Hey! I resemble that remark!” Emily laughed at her own joke and plopped on the sofa to punch his arm. The jab landed harder than she meant.

  “Ow!” he yelped and grabbed her hands. In a move she hadn’t anticipated, Lugh hauled her across his lap and tucked her arms under his. She couldn’t escape without a struggle. A dangerous glint shone in the pirate-priest’s eyes.

  A nervous titter bubbled from her lips and then Lugh’s mouth was on hers, crushing her laughter into a thousand jittery pieces. Need filled those jet-black eyes when he finally pulled away—the same aching hunger that swirled inside Emily. Her breath hitched and all rational thought went out the window. She touched her lips to his.

  He deepened the kiss, shaping her body to his lean, muscular frame. Emily nearly swooned. She wrapped her arms around Lugh’s waist and held on tight as he kissed her like she’d always wanted to be kissed. All warm and melty, his tongue exploring hers gently, his hands cradling her face.

  A memory stirred and Emily was in Awen’s glade, tasting the forbidden kiss of a young duke. Only she wasn’t herself, and the fear of getting lost in another grew until it was so overwhelming, Emily ended the kiss and put several-feet’s distance between them.

  “What is it?” Lugh croaked, blinking dusky eyes.

  Feeling silly, Emily muttered, “Déjà vu. Or a brownout or something. I had the odd sensation of being somewhere else, as someone else, and with someone else. In another time, too.”

  Lugh angled his hard body toward Emily, intrigue animating the dark features. “Really? Who were we? And where?”

  She hesitated, not sure she wanted to share that particular information. He took her hand and gently squeezed. Emily caved.

  “Promise you won’t laugh?” He nodded, eyes wide. “You were the Duke of Normandy and I was Awen. We were in her glade. In Falaise.”

  “Were we making out?” Lugh smirked, and closed the distance between them.

  With a chuckle, she relaxed against him and entwined her fingers with his long, warm ones. His eyes were pools of playful kindness, but there was something else too. A reluctance, maybe.

  “As a matter of fact, we were,” she teased, wondering if his hesitancy had anything to do with hers.

  “Like this?”

  Lugh leaned closer and kissed Emily thoroughly, quieting both their qualms. She melted into the pirate-priest’s arms, giving herself to the kiss. When a commotion arose at the front door, she surfaced from the embrace in a half trance.<
br />
  “Don’t answer it,” Lugh groaned, drawing her to him.

  The bell trilled again. Impatient fists pummeled the door. With a groan of her own, Emily disentangled herself to stand. The bell rang again and again as she leaned in for another soulful kiss.

  “Believe me, I’d rather not.” She dragged herself from his embrace. “But it doesn’t sound like they’re going away.”

  Peeking at her reflection in the hall mirror, Emily smoothed her tousled hair, mind racing. What was she thinking? Lugh was her priest, for Godsakes. She still hadn’t checked with anyone, but she knew intuitively their intimacy would be frowned upon.

  She took several deep breaths to calm her pounding heart, then peered through the peephole. Brian, Cu, and Hope stood on the porch facing the door. Brian leaned close and knocked again.

  “Emily, is Uncle Lugh in there? Can we come in?”

  Wagging her head in disappointment, Emily sighed and opened the door.

  Elementals

  T he next afternoon, the sun shone brightly on the garden outside the library window. Remarkably, the blossoms suffered minimal damage in the heavy snow they had endured. The temperature was rising, and Emily itched to go for a run. Instead, she was inside studying.

  She eyed the ominous cover illustration of the book Hope had insisted she read—a writhing earth with lava spilling from its ruptured bowels and a ball of darkness swirling nearby. On the inside page was the familiar epigram by Albert Einstein: Imagination is More Important than Knowledge.

  Emily huffed, still not getting Einstein’s meaning. She brushed her unruly hair out of her eyes and the thin hardback book fell open to page ninety-seven. It read:

  “In essence, Elementals are thoughtforms. We create them in our astral temples and bring them to life by working with the elements—air, water, earth, and fire—usually with a specific purpose in mind. Elementals are powerful manifestations of the creator’s will and are fashioned for various reasons, including individual protection, truth-finding, gathering and relaying information, cleansing the atmosphere, as a magic companion, to protect against natural disasters…”

  Emily stopped reading. To protect against natural disasters? A sick feeling welled inside her. If an Elemental could be created for good, it could also be perverted for evil.

  Shalane Carpenter’s red face, contorted in anger, swam into her vision. The day Emily had confronted her, Shalane had swelled like a pufferfish and spouted venomous slurs faster than Emily could dodge them. Including something about weather bombs. Could it be that simple?

  She reeled as the realization sank in. The weather woes had started soon after Emily quit her lessons with Shalane. The witch had created the storms, including the ones that had killed Emily’s fiancé and all the others. With a freaking Elemental.

  Guilt flooded through her, followed by an anger so pure and hot that it set her afire. Slamming the book shut, Emily stood, determined to try her hand at casting her first solo counter-curse. She would be damned if she’d let Shalane hurt anyone else on account of her—especially those she loved.

  In the center of Brigid’s library, between the semi-circle of cushions and the pink quartz boulder, Emily closed her eyes, gulped three breaths, and spread her arms overhead in a wide vee. Exhaling, she chanted,

  “Water, Earth, Air, and Fire,

  Combine forces to remove and retire,

  All Elementals, curses, hexes and evil eyes,

  Directed toward me, at any time.

  Protect me and mine from future attacks,

  And send all such attempts hurtling back.

  So it is and shall be, forevermore.

  Thank you, my dear and precious Lord.”

  The oppressive mantle of guilt melted away and a lightness infused Emily’s being. Her shoulders relaxed. She lowered her arms and took a deep breath of peaceful calm.

  Laughing out loud, Emily hurried to tell Hope the news.

  Travel Plans

  A t two o’clock sharp, a series of druid raps summoned Emily to the front door. The snow that had been so thick yesterday was mostly melted. Morgan engulfed Emily in her usual bear hug. Emily squeezed back, amazed she no longer detested the ritual.

  “Howdy, Aunt Morgan. You’re looking vibrant today.”

  Morgan’s outfit was impressive with a royal purple blouse of watered silk paired with mustard-brown slacks. A long red scarf, sassy red boots, and a clunky red bracelet tied the ensemble together.

  “Why thank you, hon. I’ve got business in Atlanta when we’re done here. Where’s Lugh?”

  Emily averted her eyes to hide the flash of shame. Could Morgan know she’d almost had sex with their priest? “He called and said he’s on his way and that if you’re in a hurry, we could start without him. Their lunch rush went late.”

  She led her aunt to the sun porch, where Ralph blinked sleepy eyes. Hope claimed Morgan’s attention by leaping to the floor to wind through her legs meowing. Lifting the oversized cat, Morgan hugged her to her chest and rubbed her cheek on the thick fur before letting Hope down.

  “Remind me to get Alexis’s book out of the car before I leave, would you dear? I was on the phone and forgot to bring it in.” She was referring to the ledger Emily had volunteered, the one cataloguing their aliases and whereabouts through the years.

  There was another series of raps and Emily hurried to let in the druid priest. Shyness seized her as she opened the door. Lugh wore his usual Jocko’s attire—khaki slacks and a white, button-down oxford shirt. Cu shoved past him and licked Emily’s face before tearing down the hall to the kitchen.

  “No cat food!” she shouted after him then glanced up at Lugh. He was looking at her like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to scoop her up and eat her or shove her out of the way. Emily shared the priest’s uncertainty.

  “Hello, Em.” His drawl ignited that delicious feeling in Emily’s tummy.

  She tried to ignore her body’s response, but her words came out slightly breathless. “Come on in. Morgan and Hope are on the porch. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Water would be great. I’m parched. I haven’t had anything since before lunch.”

  Leaving him to find his way, Emily filled three water glasses and returned to find Morgan and the priest in an animated conversation. Lugh chugged his water and Morgan set hers on the coffee table.

  “I’ve only a few minutes,” the matriarch said, “but I wanted to thank you for your mother’s ledger. You had quite the nomadic life, didn’t you, Dru-y-en?”

  Emily nodded. “That’s one way to put it.”

  “Well, you’re here now. No more running.” Morgan took a sip of water. “I blocked Mitchell Wainwright from all order communications. I also opened an investigation into your allegation that he murdered my—” Morgan’s voice broke and she cleared her throat. “We can’t formally charge him, you know. Not until we find some evidence.”

  Cu yapped like a loon and stuck his head in Morgan’s lap. She ruffled his hair absentmindedly. “According to his secretary, Mitchell skipped town. He hopped the first flight to Rome after you fired him and hasn’t checked in with her since.”

  “Bully for him,” Emily said, with a pang of relief. “Good riddance.”

  “Agreed.” A sheepish tone crept into Morgan’s voice. “To be honest I never paid Mitchell much mind. I knew Hamilton had turned most of our legal stuff over to the Wainwright firm, but legal was Ham’s responsibility, not mine. I’ve seen more of Mitchell Wainwright in the past six weeks than I did in the two years before that. And from what I have seen, you might be on to something.”

  Morgan patted Cu’s shoulder and glanced at her watch. “I’d better grab that ledger and get going.” She moved toward the door and Cu blocked her path, barking furiously. “Well, I’ll be. What is it, dear?”

  The wolfhound reared on hind legs and hooked hairy front paws on the silk-draped shoulders. When he proceeded to lick Morgan’s perfectly made-up face, she gasped and giggled like a school
girl. “Get down, you!”

  Cu retreated to all fours and followed Morgan from the room. When she returned with the ledger, he trailed behind her and flopped to the floor..

  Morgan said her goodbyes and Emily walked with her to the SUV.

  “Aunt Morgan, can I ask you something personal?” The matriarch turned, hand on the door handle.

  “Of course, little wren.”

  “Is it, um—” Emily hesitated, not wanting to ask for fear the answer would be “no”.

  Worry creased Morgan’s brow. “What is it, sweetie? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” Emily rubbed her face in her hands. “It’s j-just,” she stuttered, then took a deep breath and blurted, “is it against Order policy to date another druid?”

  Morgan chuckled. “You mean our priest?”

  The heat rushed to Emily’s face. “Is it that noticeable?”

  “Yes, honey, it is.” Morgan smiled knowingly.

  Emily eyed the concrete driveway, mortified. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her body as butterflies plundered her belly. “And would that be okay? Or is it expressly forbidden?”

  Morgan took her hand and squeezed, compassion and kindness softening her regal features. “It is absolutely okay. Most of us druids end up with other druids. It’s the way of things. Does our priest feel the same? Sometimes I think so, but others, I can’t tell.”

  “Me too!” Emily cried. “And it’s driving me crazy. He asked me out a long time ago. But he’s flip-flopped so many times since then, I have no clue what he thinks. Or wants. Thank you, Aunt Morgan. At least I know it’s not taboo.” The butterflies flew to Emily’s throat. “But if it’s not that holding him back, what is?”

  “Beats me, sugar.” Morgan opened the door. “But I can tell you that Lugh MacBrayer is a complicated man. And he’s been through a lot over the last several years. I’d say go easy on him, give him some time. And some space. If it’s meant to be, there’s nothing either of you can do to keep it from happening. And if it’s not, same thing.” She climbed in the vehicle.