Xander's Folly

by Belinda M Gordon

  "She can stay at the farmhouse," I said at last, "but the Manor house is off limits." I looked over at girl's back and shouted in her direction, though she could hear me without my yelling. "And just so you know, the Manor House is highly secure." Sloan turned and looked at me, rolling her eyes.

  "Yeah. Whatever."

  "And you're not taking that knife of yours onto the estate. Matt will bring down a metal detector to make sure you're not carrying it."

  "I don't have the knife. It's not mine," Sloan yelled back, shaking her head.

  "Yeah, I know. Just like the dog isn't yours."

  "Well, that all seems fair. At least until we get to know each other better," Tressa said with forced cheerfulness. "Now we just need to get Shamus down here to adjust the wards."

  Just as she spoke the words, the old Brounie came walking through the gate from the driveway.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Over the next few days, clouds obscured the sun and created a bleak, gray, wintery atmosphere that matched the mood in our home. Alexander, still angry with me, left the house early each morning and didn't return until evening.

  The change in his behavior weighed heavily on my heart. I analyzed every move he made, every twitch in his expression, afraid to see some telltale sign that he would reject this strange life—reject me.

  His disapproval made me struggle with my efforts to welcome Sloan to Pine Ridge. Though the rift between us wasn't her fault, it was easier to blame her than myself.

  Sophia helped soothe the situation. Sloan smiled around Sophia. I hadn't noticed before that she never truly smiled until I saw her with the five-year-old. When she smiled, her appearance utterly transformed. The tension in her face relaxed making her look softer, more feminine, even her aura smoothed out. Much to Alexander's consternation, Sophia took every opportunity to engage with the older girl.

  Lady made herself at home. She spent her nights with Sloan, but during the day she made rounds, spending time checking in and visiting with everyone on the estate.

  Towards the end of Sloan's first week at the farmhouse, the weatherman forecasted a particularly pleasant day. The temperature that morning was a balmy forty-eight degrees. Tired and worn out from the stress of the week, I decided to skip going into work. Instead, I walked to my spot by the lake, swinging my violin case in rhythm with my step.

  The warmer air had caused a fog to form over the grounds of the estate that grew thicker the closer I got to the water. I continued on anyway, confident the sun would burn it off as it rose higher in the sky. The fog obscured everything from sight except dark tree trunks, making the world seem dead and spooky. Only a chickadee whistling his sweet 'fee bee,' calling to his mate, broke the illusion.

  I settled onto the glider and pulled my violin from its case. I wore thin gloves, as the air was still too cold to go without. However, I wasn't sure if I could play with them. After attempting a few notes I found that, although it was an odd sensation, I did perfectly well with the gloves.

  I started with a jig to counteract the gloomy atmosphere. I closed my eyes, enjoying the vibration of the violin beneath my chin and the joyous music that surged from the instrument. The sound wafted into the air, leaving its trace in the wind.

  Before finishing a second song, Sophia burst through the fog, hand-in-hand with Sloan and with Lady close behind them. Sloan plopped onto the glider beside me.

  "Damn. You're good," she said.

  "Let's watch the language, Sloan," Sophia said in a near-perfect imitation of her grandfather. Sloan laughed: a light, lilting sound. "Okay kiddo, I will."

  The snap of a twig breaking in the woods silenced us all. The crunching of leaves warned us that something was approaching, though the fog made it impossible to discern who or what it could be.

  Sloan bounded from her seat, her body ridged with tension. Her eyes flicked back and forth as the sound came closer. "Is it another Gray Man?" she asked with a squeak as the tip of a shiny black walking stick came into view.

  Before I could explain that it couldn't be an Unseelie, Sloan jumped behind the glider as if hoping it would protect her. In contrast, Sophia skipped toward the emerging figure.

  "Mr. Gobban!" she called. "Have you come to be my friend?"

  The old Leprechaun emerged from the mist, still limping and using his shillelagh for stability, but his gait had improved. I grinned at him and raised my eyebrows as I lay my violin in its case. He stopped a few yards away.

  "Aye, I may have changed my mind, lassie. Though perhaps I'm not welcome here." He pointed his chin in Sloan's direction.

  I looked back, shocked to see her holding the top of the glider with one hand and gripping the spade shaped knife with the other. A twinge of doubt disconcerted me. She had lied about having the weapon. Was Alexander right about her? I shook my head, not wanting to believe it.

  "Sloan, put that down. This is our friend."

  Gobban gave me a threatening look when I moved to help him up onto the glider. I stood back and pressed my hands together, fighting the instinct to grab his elbow to steady him as he laboriously climbed onto the seat. He placed his shillelagh between his knees and rested his hands on the knobbed handle.

  Brenna arrived as he settled in, distracting Sophia from the Leprechaun. Sloan sat on a rock on the far side of the maple tree, Lady at her feet, watching Sophia and Brenna play tag and sneaking furtive glances at Gobban.

  "You have an interesting array of fae here," Gobban said, scanning the assembled group before resting his eyes on Sloan. He squinted as he contemplated her appearance. "Interesting, indeed. Do any humans live here?"

  "Aye. Sophia, of course, along with a few others."

  "Hmmm." He sat in thoughtful silence for a minute, as if he had something on his mind but didn't know how to start.

  "You look much better," I said. His scars had lost most of their sticky appearance and the red color had toned down. "Do you need more medicine? I have some ready for you."

  "Aye, well before we can talk about another trade, I have a confession." He hesitated then cleared his throat. "I did something rather drastic to get away from Deaglan Mór—something I'm not particularly proud of."

  I nodded to show I was listening. I imagined he referred to giving Mór his cauldron, an unthinkable thing for a Leprechaun, though perfectly understandable under the circumstances.

  "The truth is, I don't know how it will affect you."

  "Me?" I couldn't imagine what he was suggesting, but his hands shook as he spoke. "What exactly did you do?"

  He waved at me frantically. "Dagnabbit, I can't say it out loud."

  "Okay, I understand," I said, though I didn't understand at all.

  "It may actually help you—but it might be the worst thing. Who knows how that madman will react?" He rested his forehead on top of his hands. "I didn't think of you at the time; I only thought about getting away from him."

  "We'll heal you up and work together to stop him if he comes after us." What else could I say? Mór had always been hunting for me—no matter what Gobban might have done. The burn scars were symbolic of that constant fear. To help him would do me as much good spiritually as if would for Gobban physically.

  "I have an idea," he said. "Something I will make for you that can give you some protection. However, I don't know how long it will take me to complete it, and you must trust me that it will be worth the trade."

  I agreed readily, not caring what he wanted to exchange. I asked Sophia to fetch the medicine for me. Brenna came to sit on my shoulder as Sophia ran off.

  "And what are you doing with that one?" Gobban asked, pointing his chin at Sloan. "A Sidhe, is she? And she's marked herself?"

  Brenna flew over and pulled on the tip of Sloan's ear. "It's real," she said, ducking Sloan's hand as she swatted at her.

  "Leave the lass alone," I said.

  "I assume this is your Pixie. Where is hers?" Gobban asked, still not convinced that Sloan was a Sidhe.

  "Unseelie have no Pixi
es," Brenna said, not unkindly. "Only Seelie."

  Gobban slid off the glider with a thud and stumbled a few steps back—nearly colliding with Sophia, who had returned with the bottle of medicine. "You're harboring an Unseelie? You have bigger problems than I imagined."

  "So I'm a frickin' pariah, I guess that's the point," Sloan said.

  "No one's saying that."

  "Yeah, well that's what everyone's thinking. I don't even know what an Unseelie is, but here I am being crucified as one."

  The girls sat in the farmhouse kitchen, snacking on potato chips when I came in with a book from the Manor House library. I was determined to teach Sloan a bit of her history.

  "Why bother? You're just going to tell me how evil the Unseelie are, which makes me evil too. I don't want to hear it," Sloan said defiantly as I pushed the large antique book in front of her.

  "Nothing is ever that simple," I said.

  I insisted she wash her hands before touching the book. Sophia scrambled from her chair to sit next to her to get a better view, still munching on the chips.

  Prints from old paintings illustrated the volume in much the way I have seen in older Bibles. The paintings captured snapshots of our history. I opened it to an illustration of the Dominions ascending into Heaven, leaving the Sidhe behind.

  "I've already explained to you that the Tuatha dé Danann—the Sidhe—are the descendants of humans and the choir of angels called Dominions, aye?"

  "Yeah, and this is them abandoning us."

  "Aye, well, it was a difficult time. Everyone suffered from the loss of the beloved Dominions. Many felt abandoned, lost and confused. During this dark time, when our faith was at its weakest, Lucifer sent his fallen angels to seduce the Sidhe away from the path of good and righteousness. This is when the Sidhe divided."

  The next illustration showed Lucifer with a large staff in one hand. His other hand beckoned to a group of Sidhe shrouded in darkness. Their brethren behind them, bathed in light, wept and tried to pull them back.

  "That's a scary picture," Sophia said.

  "The Sidhe split into two fractions, the Seelie and the Unseelie. The Seelie stayed obedient to the ways taught by the Dominions. The Unseelie, those who were enticed to follow Lucifer, fell from grace. This is why we refer to the them as the fallen."

  "So that's me? Part of the fallen?" she said, pursing her lips.

  "A leanbh, you are not fallen." I put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, but she shrugged it off.

  "Okay, so then what?"

  "Over the years we have fought many wars—"

  "Over religion," Sloan said, nodding her head.

  I turned to another picture in the book. It depicted an epic battle with Sidhe on dragons and soldiers on the ground below with spears and swords. Blood flowed and bodies lay trampled as the others fought. Sophia scrunched her nose at the gruesome scene.

  "Aye, over religion at first, but more recently the war has been over the treasures."

  "Treasures?" Sloan's eyes grew wide. "What kind of treasures?"

  "Our Dominion ancestors gifted the Sidhe with four objects of power. Over time, we lost the treasures. As a consequence, the Sidhe were banned from entering Heaven until the treasures are found and put into the proper hands."

  "Kind of like humans being kicked out of the Garden of Eden?"

  I smiled wistfully. "Aye, very much like that. What the Seelie desire above all else is to return to God's good graces. The Unseelie, who renounced their place in Heaven long ago, covet the power contained in the treasures—to use them for their own benefit."

  Sloan stared at the picture, soaking in my words. She leafed through the book and opened it to a new illustration.

  "These are the treasures?" she asked.

  "Aye."

  "And the Unseelie are like the villains in comic books- they want to use them for evil and take over the world?"

  I wouldn't have described it quite that way, but it was a fair enough depiction. I shrugged and nodded, reluctantly agreeing.

  "So, the Unseelie are always evil and the Seelie are always good?"

  "I told you, nothing is ever that simple. You're Unseelie, and yet you know you're not evil. And as for the Seelie part… Well, if only that were true. Less than a year ago my own brother fell. He tried to hand me over to Deaglan Mór, the Unseelie prince, who wants to burn me at the stake."

  "Shit, your brother?" Her eyes grew wide and she shook her head, astonished by my revelation. "Why does this prince guy want to kill you?"

  "Well, I guess you ought to know. Xander makes a fuss about you being a danger to us, but the truth is that it's actually quite dangerous for you—or anyone—to be around me."

  I told her the story of the prophecy and my part in it. She glanced through the massive volume in front of her as I spoke, looking at the pictures as they unfolded the history of the Sidhe race.

  When I finished, she looked at me with new understanding and a grudging approval in her eyes.

  "Wow. So you guys are on a quest. You're searching for the four treasures and your savior."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ALEXANDER

  I escaped to the garden behind the Manor House after dinner. The footlights strategically placed throughout the landscape were all that illuminated the dark night. I pulled the sword from its scabbard; instantly it went from being a psychological weight to a physical one.

  I had recently discovered the value of unsheathing the sword to do training exercises. The mimicking of battle moves released the tension stored in the sword, making it more bearable to carry. The exercises built the muscles in my forearm, shoulder and back—areas I hadn't used before—and went a long way to defuse my stress.

  I developed a routine designed to strengthen the muscles needed to fight with the sword and to give me a good workout. The exercise started with rolling my wrist to make the blade rotate in a tight circle, then making it a little bigger with each turn.

  I felt Tressa's presence coming closer to me. I always had a sense of where she was at any given time. The back door to the house opened behind me. I took a deep cleansing breath, allowing her nearness to calm me. I continued making circles with the blade, turning it now in the opposite direction.

  "Xander, I have some news." Her voice, even in speech, was lyrical.

  I sheathed the sword and turned to look at her. She was dressed simply, in jeans and a sweater, and yet she was stunning. Her ethereal beauty still left me breathless after all this time. But her expression told me that the news wasn't good.

  I sighed, placing my hands on my hips.

  "Okay," I said. "What now?"

  "Kerry is back from Faery." She stepped outside, crossing her arms over her chest to combat the cold night air. "Shamus spoke with her while we were eating dinner."

  Anxiety gathered inside me as I waited for her to continue. I knew already that whatever she was about to say—it wouldn't help us find my mother.

  "Deirdre passed away soon after we left the Otherworld. Kerry questioned two other elderly Sidhe, but neither of them remembered triplets returning after being murdered in the Human World."

  I guess I should have expected this. My mother had foreseen that Deirdre wouldn't live to see the second treasure. Wasn't that just a nice way of saying she would die after we found the first? Still, anger exploded from me—another dead end.

  I spun around, pulling out the sword. I swung it at a nearby tree, slicing the four-inch trunk with a single blow. The top of the tree crashed to the ground.

  TRESSA

  Sloan sat waiting for me on the stoop the next morning when I headed out to work. Our brief respite from winter had ended; the air was frigid again. She had her arms wrapped tightly across her chest and her shoulders hunched up around her ears as she tried to keep warm.

  "What are you doing out in the cold?" I asked.

  "I want to talk to you. Is it okay if I go with you? We can talk on the way." She looked up at me with sincere auburn eyes.
<
br />   The request surprised me, however I didn't mind the company. I nodded and we walked together to my car. We sat in the idling car in silence, waiting for it to warm up. I turned the fan on high to heat the car faster. Sloan rubbed her hands together in front of the vent.

  I shifted into gear and started down the long driveway. Sloan remained quiet, staring out her window at two deer that trotted in the woods. Once past the gate at the edge of the estate, I turned left to head towards Findale.

  "My father took me to church every Sunday when I was a little girl. He even had me baptized," she said, still averting her gaze. "So I know right from wrong, and I don't think I'm a bad person."

  I nodded, afraid that if I spoke and interrupted the flow of her words she might stop talking. However, I found this insight into her childhood fascinating. Could her baptism and subsequent religious upbringing be what eradicated the legacy of her birth?

  "So you're right, I knew people weren't just giving me things out of the goodness of their hearts. I knew that something in the way I asked the question compelled them to give me what I wanted—even if I didn't understand why."

  "I'm glad you're telling me this," I said, proud of her. She had taken a big step forward in her maturity. I glanced at her and noticed hesitation in her manner. "Is there anything else we should talk about?"

  "Yeah, well, now that I know I shouldn't do this Dominion thing, how do I stop doing it? I mean, I do it without thinking about it."

  "Aye, 'tisn't easy." She had made a good observation. A Sidhe's instinct was to control those around them. "To hold Dominion over someone you must first call their true name; a partial name will suffice for the weak willed. You must also lock eyes with them while giving the command. Now for myself, I generally use a nickname for everyone so I don't accidentally true name anyone. Other than that, I avoid eye contact when saying people's names."

  "You call Shamus by his name."