by Ashley McLeo
“I’m in, too. I could never forgive myself if I passed this up.”
“I’ll get them,” Lily said, her heart leaping. “I’m sure they can arrange for Morgane to come back for you Evelyn.”
“You’ve made your decisions, then?” Brigit asked, settling back into the blue chair.
“I’m in,” Lily said.
“Me, too,” Sara nodded.
“I’ll do it.”
“I see this was a spur-of-the-moment decision?” Brigit asked, taking in Lily and Sara’s expressions of shock at Evelyn’s answer.
“It was either I go insane by someone messing with my head or by riding back to Shannon with Morgane. I’ll take my chances with her,” Evelyn said pointing at Aoife.
“Right, then,” Aoife said. “Let me explain how this will go.”
The flames danced enthusiastically behind Aoife as she rose to stand before the hearth. An aroma of pepper and ginger intensified, spicing the air as the flames grew. The effect of fire on Aoife’s face was mesmerizing. In a matter of seconds her cheeks softened, loosening lines of tension as pink roses bloomed, and her eyes began to glow warm and bright.
“I never share memories with those unversed in magic. There’s always the chance that part of my consciousness will be lost, taken by those I inhabit, or trapped. The risk becomes greater if you are scared or unwilling. That being said, I cannot emphasize enough the importance of this memory. It is because of that importance that I will take you at your word that you are a willing participant. You must relax as best you can. Please don’t fight what you are feeling in the memory. You risk breaking my mind, possibly your own, or even your sisters’ if you do. Let me take over. If all that is clear, please lie on the ground,” Aoife instructed.
“Now?” Evelyn squawked.
“You’ll never be better prepared for something of this nature, and you’re here now,” Aoife said, nodding at the plush rugs in the middle of the room.
She waited for the girls to reposition themselves on the floor.
“I’ll be starting from right before things went wrong. It will be messy. If you’re weak at the thought of blood, speak up. We’ll get you a bowl for when you wake.”
No one spoke.
“Right, then,” Aoife said, looking pleased that none of them admitted to such weakness. “I’ll count back from ten. Remember to relax your mind; it helps the takeover process. If you meditate, this feeling may be familiar to you.”
Sara nodded, closed her eyes, and fell into a relaxed savasana pose.
“When the moment comes for me to take control, you’ll feel a faint nudge or click. It differs from person to person. That is the moment to let me in.”
“How?” Evelyn asked propping herself up on her elbows, her muscles rigid.
“It’s individual but you’ll know. Not having let anyone into my mind I can’t be sure how it feels, but everyone manages it sooner or later. I am able to force myself in, but I like to be a gracious guest.” Aoife winked at her sisters, her first unwilling targets in the early years of exploring her talent.
Evelyn settled back onto the rug with a sigh.
Aoife surveyed the scene, taking in Sara’s even, slow breaths. Her gaze moved to Lily’s clenched hands and finally Evelyn’s rigid shoulders and jaw. She pointed to Evelyn and Lily.
“I’ll begin counting down from ten. Ten, nine . . .”
The room filled with the haze of Gwenn’s calming spell as it floated to hover above Evelyn and Lily. The girls’ bodies slackened and their short, shallow breaths deepened.
“Three, two . . . one.”
“Inruo ego,” Aoife whispered.
And then, Aoife was flying, her mind fractionated and free past the confines of its bony cage. So far, so good, she thought with the quarter of herself still residing in her own head. Within seconds Aoife was sitting in the watery spaces between three separate skulls and the minds they guarded. She knocked and waited. The part where her unstable consciousness sought refuge was always the most difficult for her body. It necessitated vast quantities of energy to stay in place until she was allowed inside. A half minute passed before Aoife felt her knees begin to buckle and her body give way to gravity. She gasped and closed her eyes, blocking out any outside stimuli. This has never happened so soon in a session, she thought, a wave of adrenaline rising in her. Two pairs of hands lowered her onto a cushion in front of the hearth. Aoife could feel the concentrated heat and energy of fire pouring into her, providing her with the strength she needed to wait it out. She knocked again.
A door flung open and Aoife flew inside, seeking the stability that a mind craved and only another living being could provide. It felt like home. Sara, she knew, grateful that the girl was quick to catch on.
With a renewed sense of strength that stemmed from stabilization, Aoife knocked a third time, steeling herself for the undesirable reality that Lily and Evelyn might not figure it out, that she might have to break into their minds.
To her great relief two channels opened simultaneously, allowing the unclaimed quarters of her mind to rush inside.
Hecate’s Daughters
“I can see you,” Lily said, her eyes sliding from Sara to Evelyn and finally landing on the hideous mustard-colored couch on which they sat.
While arguably the same room she had walked into earlier that day, Lily found the contrasts too stark to be sure. That room had been spacious, color coordinated, cozy, and clean, while this room was . . . well, there was no other way to describe it but cluttered. Photos of family and friends lined the walls. The color scheme included shades ranging from sea foam green to rusty orange. The amount of stuff—blankets tossed over furniture, books turned over the arms of chairs, and numerous pairs of muddy shoes by the door—indicated dozens of people could be living here.
“Can you hear me?” Lily asked, turning back to Evelyn and Sara, who looked as shocked as she felt.
Sara reached out to tap Lily on the shoulder.
Lily started at the airy yet still firm sensation.
“Sorry,” Sara mumbled. “I assumed we’d see the memory alone, from our own minds. But it seems like we’re all sharing Aoife’s.”
“I thought so, too. She didn’t mention we’d be together,” Lily said.
“Who cares? We’re here now. We may as well go see what all the fuss is about. I see legs on the other side of the fireplace.” Evelyn rose and strode out of the room.
“Holy hell! She is huge!” Evelyn exclaimed seconds later from the other side of the hearth.
Sara and Lily exchanged amused glances and rushed after her.
“How did she not know?” Evelyn said, as Sara and Lily caught up and joined her in staring at twenty-somethings Aoife, Mary, and Gwenn all huddled around a very pregnant Brigit.
“Shhhhh!” Lily admonished, nudging Evelyn toward the tiny kitchen, which had a better view and was out of the way. “Sorry, we’ll get out of the way, we. . .” she trailed off as Mary walked through her left arm and into the living room.
“We’re ghosts,” Sara whispered. “I thought since we could see each other . . . but maybe us being here would change something? Do you think it would alter Aoife’s memory?”
“All I know is I’ve never seen such a huge belly. Do you guys think there may be a fourth in there? Maybe she’s saving that meeting for later?” Evelyn joked.
“Keep moving. I don’t want to be walked through again,” Lily said, rubbing the goosebumps on her arm.
They gave the furniture a wide berth as they wove through a maze of displaced tables and chairs, unsure if their touch could move solid objects and give away their presence.
“Someone’s coming,” Sara announced, perching herself on the kitchen countertop and peering out the window.
Not a second later the front door flung open. Nora ran into the house, arms laden with a bottle of whiskey and grocery bags. Another woman with chestnut brown hair followed close behind carrying a large box of herbs.
“That feels
heavenly,” Brigit moaned relaxing into the table as a cool breeze flowed into the room. “Can’t we dim the flames a wee bit? Or leave the door open? I’m near about to burst into flames meself.”
“Good, they’re all there,” Aoife said, running her hands through the greenery. “Shut the door, Fiona?”
“Sorry, Brig. You know how finicky some of these potions can be,” the dark-haired woman said.
“Indeed.” Aoife placed a second cauldron in the hearth. “The palliative potion will be ready right quick. Thanks to Fiona, we have what we need.”
Thank the goddess our Fiona always keeps a proper witches garden. Wish they could have sat a few hours, but fresh-plucked herbs will have to do. If we’re lucky the birthing hormones will counteract the strength of greenery straight from the earth.
Sara gasped. “Did Aoife say that out loud?”
Lily sat up straighter as the realization that she hadn’t seen Aoife’s mouth move sank in.
“We can hear her thoughts,” Sara mused, cocking her head to the side to listen. “Although, I don’t hear anything right now. Maybe we can only hear what she wants us to hear? How interesting!”
“Thank God! Otherwise I’d have no clue what they’re talking about. What’s a palliative potion anyways?” Evelyn asked.
“Painkiller,” Lily said, recalling Rena’s homeschool course on the classification of plants. “A witchy epidural?”
“Whatever it is, I hope it works. My stomach is starting to hurt just watching her contractions,” Evelyn said resting a hand on her flat belly.
“There ya’ are, Brig,” Aoife said, holding out a chipped mug filled with a steaming green liquid. “Drink this. The herbs are fresh as rain, so you may not be able to feel your fingers and toes after, but it’ll ease the contractions.”
Brigit tossed back the contents in one gulp.
“Goddess be! That is repulsive!” Brigit said, her hands dropping limply to her side as her body melted into the table.
“I did say the herbs were fresh,” Aoife responded, arms crossed over her torso. “It seems to be working though, eh?”
“Yes. At least I can think again. Even if I can’t feel me own hands,” Brigit said, relief flooding her face.
Gwenn joined Aoife at the head of the table. “What would you like us to do with Aengus? He’ll be home any minute.”
“Say hello then get him settled in the sitting room,” Brigit said, her face brightening at the mention of Aengus. “He needn't see this too closely. The man seems to think a witching birth will somehow be prettier than a normal one. No idea where he came up with that.”
“I’ll get him settled with a dram to keep him out of the way. I made sure to buy the good stuff. It’s a day to celebrate, after all!” Nora said, bending down to kiss Brigit on the forehead, “Don’t worry, love, we’ll set you aside a wee nightcap for after you’ve fed the babes.”
“I’ll get the sitting room in order,” Fiona agreed. She strode into the kitchen, and plucked three ornate glasses from the cabinet. “Can’t have Aengus drinking alone, can we?” she said, waving off Gwenn’s raised eyebrows. “I’ll set him up with a cozy spot by the fire.” And with that, she grabbed Nora by the wrist and pulled her into the living room, mischievous grins on both their faces.
“Ha! They’ll be having a right party over there while we—mostly you, of course, Brig—do all the work! Some healer you’ll be, Fiona,” Gwenn scoffed, watching the pair retreat.
“Go easy on her, Gwenn. She’s still training and knows nothing about births anyhow. They’re both best out of the way,” Mary said.
“We’re going to see him,” Lily whispered, her spine tingling with excitement. Evelyn and Sara’s faces mirrored her surprise. That Aengus Clery, their biological father, was going to be present somehow hadn’t occurred to Lily before now.
“I should tidy up a bit,” Brigit said, propping herself up on wobbly elbows and patting down her hair.
“If that man says anything about your looks right now, he’s either right brave or right stupid,” Mary said, positioning a wayward lock behind Brigit’s ear before easing her sister back into a reclined position.
“There isn’t time anyhow. He—” Gwenn said.
A man burst through the door before Gwenn could finish her sentence. His broad chest heaved with exertion and his handsome face was as red as a tomato.
“Are—?” Aengus sucked in a breath, “Are they here? Am I late?” His eyes darted past Mary, Gwenn, and Aoife to land firmly on Brigit, her belly still protruding. “Thank God you’re alright!”
He pulled Brigit’s hands protectively to his mouth, kissing each of her swollen fingertips. “I wish you’d have called sooner.”
Brigit reclaimed her hands and clutched Aengus’s shirt to pull him in for a kiss.
Lily averted her gaze as the kiss deepened to near indecency.
“Aye, my love,” Brigit said coming up for air. She caressed Aengus from the tip of his red sideburn all the way down to the hard mound of his biceps. “There’s still time yet. Gwenn tells me I’m at 4 centimeters, so you needn’t worry. Why don’t you pour yourself a dram and get comfortable? We may be in for a long night.”
“Brig! Your water broke!” Mary said, as a gush of liquid cascaded to the floor.
Aengus’s eyes lifted from Brigit’s face, raced down her torso, and landed on the puddle amassing on the floor. “I think I’ll be getting that dram if you don’t mind, love.”
“Go on then,” Brigit turned up her cheek for a parting kiss. “The girls will let you know when it’s safe to return,” she teased.
“I’m always pleased when the water breaks on its own. I hate using the poker,” Mary said, lifting the sheet that covered Brigit’s knees to peer under.
“What’s wrong?” Brigit demanded as Mary’s head shot up seconds later, her mouth gaping.
“That wasn’t your water,” Mary spoke as if she didn’t believe her own words. “The amniotic sac is still intact. It’s coming from somewhere else, but I can’t see the source.”
“Are you sure? There’s not a tiny hole?”
“You know that’s impossible, Brig,” Gwenn interjected, scooting Mary off the stool to inspect the situation herself.
“Goddess be, Mary’s right. It’s full as a balloon down there.”
Aoife placed her hands on Brigit’s shoulders as Brigit tried to lift herself from the table.
“Let’s not be getting ahead of ourselves. If I remember correctly, Brig, you should remain as calm as possible. Perhaps you tinkled a wee bit? Didn’t you three tell me it happens from time to time?” Aoife shifted her hands up and pulled back the sweat-soaked auburn hair that framed Brigit’s face to massage her skull. She smiled when Brigit’s heavy skull relaxed into her hands. Brig never could resist a good massage, Aoife thought, as her fingers tended to each hill and bony indentation of Brigit’s skull. Tracing behind the ears, Aoife pulled down firmly along Brigit’s mandible, a trick she had learned that eased even her most stressed-out clients. Her fingers froze.
“Mary? Gwenn? Could you come here?” Aoife stuttered, peering down at a small river of water running over her fingers.
Brigit’s head craned backward.
“Is something wrong?” Her expression, full of bliss moments before, morphed to one of confusion as she touched her hair. “Am I sweating that much?”
“I’m not sure it’s sweat,” Aoife said, switching out Brigit’s damp pillow for a towel while Gwenn and Mary smelled, touched, and tasted the substance leaking from Brigit’s ear.
“It seems we may have a wee water witch on our hands soon,” Gwenn announced.
“Water?” Brigit looked relieved. “You had me worried Aoi—”
“Goddess be!” Mary exclaimed jumping aside as a rush of water shot from Brigit’s open mouth. “We’ll be needing water. Lots of it. Aoife, could you see to keeping her cup filled and at the ready? If that’s not enough we may need to send someone for an IV.”
“T
he wee one must be pulling water straight from your blood to produce that large a flow. Unless this stops soon, our first priority becomes keeping you hydrated,” Mary said pulling a syringe from a medical bag. “One quick test will let us know if I’m right,” she added, plunging the syringe into her sister's abdomen.
Lily watched in horror as the syringe filled with thick brownish-red blood.
“What the hell,” Evelyn muttered. “It’s like molasses.”
“If this is real, then one of us caused that,” Sara said with a wince.
“Is that grass?” Lily asked, pointing to a spot under the birthing table where a patch of green was sprouting from the hardwood floors.
They watched as the grass grew at a cancerous rate, covering the floor of the dining room within seconds.
Lily lunged forward as a small tree sprouted from between two stones in the wall. “We should warn them!”
“Chill out. We’re not here, remember? Besides, Mary’s already spotted it,” Evelyn said, catching Lily’s shoulder and pointing at Mary, who was watching slack-jawed as a root pushed through the hardwood floors.
Suddenly, another tree shot out of the floor and past Brigit’s head.
Brigit screamed and threw her arms over her face.
“What’s happening? Are you alright, Brig?” Aengus asked, rushing into the room on unsteady legs. He swayed when he caught sight of the six-foot-tall tree inches from his wife’s head.
Nora and Fiona followed close behind looking apologetic and a little tipsy.
“Is that an oak tree? Why is it so wet in here? Did a pipe burst? But it’s summer . . .”
“It would appear, Aengus, that you and Brig have daughters gifted in the ways of water and earth,” Gwenn said.
“But they’re not even born yet!”
“It’s possible the earth bit is from Brigit. The water, I’m afraid, is all your daughter.”
“That is not from me,” Brigit panted, pointing to the oak, now nudging up against the rafters.
“Can’t you stop it? What if it falls on her? Or blows straight through the roof?” Aengus said, his eyes swinging between his wife and the ceiling.
