by CK Dawn
“I hear you’ve been busy,” she said as I stood in the doorway.
“I have. I’m sorry I’m late.”
Aileen screwed up her nose. “No need to apologize to me. I’m not your mother.”
I began to wonder who was, and a now familiar headache erupted in my brain.
“You need to work on that,” the witch said, resuming her knitting. “You might blow your brain to smithereens.”
“I was at the pub,” I said. “I took Sean McKinnon home…”
“Aye? He lost his wife a few weeks back.” She clucked her tongue. “Such a lovely woman.”
“So I hear…”
Setting down her knitting needles, Aileen peered up at me. “What else did you find?”
“Err…” I wasn’t sure how she knew, but her intuition was starting to become annoying.
“Well then, spit it out.”
“Beyond Sean’s farmhouse,” I began. “Something was…”
“Ah, there’s another hawthorn down there,” Aileen explained. “That’s likely what you felt. Like a tingling, yes? A magnet pulling at your skin?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“All creatures of magic are drawn to such places,” she went on. “It’s normal to sense them, but it’s not always wise to seek them out.”
“Why? If it’s only a hawthorn…”
“They’re never just a hawthorn,” she said with a pout.
I frowned but didn’t continue my questioning. It was late, and I had an early morning if I wanted to be on time for my first day working on Roy’s farm. Still, I was curious. If it were only a hawthorn, the tree that protected our kind, then why would she warn me away? I had no idea.
I had turned, intending to go to bed, when Aileen called out.
“Boone?”
I glanced over my shoulder and waited.
“Don’t go looking for trouble, you hear? It never ends well.”
“No,” I murmured, still thinking about the strange magic that lingered past Sean McKinnon’s house. “I won’t.”
Six
Roy was a robust man in his early sixties. His belly was round, his cheeks were red, and he didn’t seem to give a hoot about anything.
We were sitting on a bale of hay, watching a truck reverse into the yard. A dozen or so sheep were loaded in the back, bleating and stamping their feet on the tray as the driver went over a bump. A black and white border collie was running laps around the entire scene, biting at the wheels and barking in excitement.
Roy whistled sharply at the dog. “Phee! C’mere!”
Phee did another lap and came toward us, her tongue lolling happily. The moment she saw me sitting there, she bounded straight up to me, sat at my feet, and nudged my leg with her snout until I placed my palm on her head.
“You’ve got a way about ye,” Roy said, scratching his head. “She’s in love.”
“At least someone is,” I said wryly, earning myself a laugh from the old man.
Handing me a can of blue spray paint, he nodded toward the truck. The driver had started unloading sheep into the paddock by the gate, the pungent stench of wet wool filling the air as their hooves churned the earth beneath them.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
“Spray a little line on their asses,” he declared. “We’ve got four lots of sheep runnin’ across that hill, and we need to tell ’em apart. That bugger McGregor tried to pinch me best ewe last summer by paintin’ over her. We kicked him out and lost his money, but even so, it was still cheaper than buildin’ a mile of drywall to separate them out.”
One thing I was fast learning was that while not shy when it came to hard work, if the Irish didn’t have to do it, then they made it their mission not to.
I climbed over the fence and landed in the yard, mud squelching under my boots. The sheep spooked and headed for the opposite side of the pen. In the background, Phee began to bark, disappointed she wasn’t allowed in on the action.
Letting my instincts take over, I dove for the closest ewe, grasped her neck, and sprayed a neat line over her rump. Seeing I’d missed a spot, I filled it in before letting her go.
“You don’t need to paint a bloody Rembrandt!” Roy bellowed. “Just spray ’em!”
Grimacing, I darted about the yard, slipping and sliding while Roy and the truck driver bellowed with laughter. The sheep were slippery, and their flighty nature made them experts in the art of evasion. Fortunate for them, but not for me. Eventually, I managed to mark them all without falling on my ass in the mud. I would call that a win and some welcome entertainment for the men.
Vaulting over the fence, I handed Roy back the can of spray paint.
“Not bad for ye first go,” he said. “Where did ye come from, anyhoo? Ye a city lad?”
I shrugged, unsure what tale to spin. I couldn’t exactly tell him I was a fox in my spare time.
“You’re a man of few words. Be careful. People oft like to jump to conclusions about that.”
“I fell on hard times, is all,” I said, filling in the gap as much as I could. “I needed a place to call home, and Aileen offered to help.”
Roy eyed me. “She’s a good judge of character, our Aileen.”
“She is.”
“Ye better not be thinkin’ about causin’ any trouble around here,” he said sternly.
“I don’t plan on giving you any.”
We watched the sheep mill about for a few minutes, standing side by side. When Sean’s car came into view, the old man waved me away.
“Go with Sean,” he said. “He’ll show ye the limits of the property and take ye to see the cows. Keep an eye out for Bully. He’s a mean bugger.”
Thanking the old man, I went to meet Sean. When he got out of his car, I saw he was a sight cleaner in his jeans, flannel, and boots, but his eyes were red, betraying the raging hangover he must’ve woken with.
“Hey, Boone,” he said.
“Sean.” I nodded.
“Thank ye for last night,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “I know I was a right eejit. I suppose Hannah explained everythin’ to ye?”
“She did,” I replied. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Gettin’ drunk isn’t goin’ to help, but I can’t stop myself.”
“Time heals most wounds, I suppose.” I glanced at the sky and spied a falcon soaring above. Focusing on it, I began to feel the same pull I had the night before, but this time, my bones began to vibrate.
“I suppose you’re right,” Sean replied bringing my attention down to earth. “Now come with me, and we’ll go see Bully. If ye are as good with animals as ye say ye are, then it’ll be a right treat, that.”
“Roy already warned me about Bully,” I said with a smirk.
“Darn it!” he cursed as we crossed the yard.
Smiling, I thumped him on the back, grateful I’d already made a friend.
After that, I settled into my new life in Derrydun with ease. With plenty of work to keep me occupied, I had little time to dwell on my past, which meant I almost completely stopped giving myself splitting headaches.
I hadn’t realized it, but that first day on the farm, the falcon I’d seen flying above us had been calling to the magic inside of me. The animals I changed into were just as much a part of who I was as my original human form, and I was fast learning I had to change before I was forced to. It seemed staying human forever was not an option.
Every other night, I went to the ancient hawthorn in the forest and changed, spending hours in the darkness running as a fox or flying as a gyrfalcon.
And every time I circled Derrydun, I still felt the pull of the mysterious hawthorn in the glade behind Sean McKinnon’s farmhouse. Heeding Aileen’s warning, I stayed away, but it was becoming increasingly hard to ignore the buzzing every time I sat in the field overlooking the village as I was now.
Perched on the drywall, I surveyed the scene that had become more familiar to me than my own face. The rolling green hills, the steely b
lue smudge of the ocean on the horizon, the snaking roads that cut across the countryside, and the roofs of the buildings that made up the village. Roy’s sheep chewed happily on the grass before me, and beyond that, I could see the shingles on Sean’s farmhouse. Even further, I could sense the place of power—the hawthorn—its magic hitting me in sickly waves.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
Deciding to investigate before I lost my mind, I cast my gaze over the field. No one was around. In the distance, the droning of Roy’s tractor could be heard as he rumbled across the far field, and Phee’s excited barking followed. Sean was away at the market, so that meant I was completely alone and free to slip away for an hour.
My bones popped, cracking and shrinking into the delicate framework of my most familiar form. The gyrfalcon. My sweater began to billow around me, becoming too large for my shoulders, and my trousers fell down, my hips no longer able to hold them up. Feeling my eyes bubble and morph and my beak sprout, my world shifted as the animal took over.
Burrowing out of my clothes, I hopped onto the edge of the drywall and shook out my feathers. Preening, I sat for a moment, becoming accustomed to my form. Changing was becoming more familiar now, and the pain was lessening the more I practiced. I no longer felt like throwing up when I regained my human shape, so I took it as a good sign.
Leaping, I stretched out my wings and flapped. Wind buffeted around me as my senses picked up on the air currents, and I soared higher and higher.
Wheeling over the farmhouse, I let my senses guide me. The closer I ventured, the more my stomach rolled, and before long, I was able to pick out the hawthorn from the other trees around it.
At first, I couldn’t see anything amiss, but as I circled lower, I zeroed in on a dark shadow at the base of the tree. It appeared to be digging where the trunk met the earth, and dirt was flying everywhere. The pull of magic was strengthening, and I wondered if this was what I’d been feeling the past week. Was the hawthorn calling for help?
The more I pondered it, the more it didn’t make sense for Aileen to warn me away. The better course of action was to protect the tree and not let this thing—whatever it was—harm it.
Circling lower still, I studied the creature. It was a man-shaped thing, but it wore no clothes, and there were no shoes on its feet. Its body was covered in a thick charcoal hide, its clawed hands tipped with mean looking talons that ripped and tore at the base of the hawthorn. The sounds of intelligible muttering reached me even at this height, and my heart began to beat faster. Whatever it was, it was definitely not from this world. Even I was smart enough to understand that.
Landing on a branch overlooking the hawthorn, I watched the creature, my falcon eyes able to see much clearer than my human ones.
The moment I settled, its head shot up, and it turned, its beady black eyes searching the glade. Sharp, pointed teeth protruded behind its lips as it sniffed the air, and I began to feel uneasy.
The instant its gaze hit mine, it let out an unearthly roar and ran across the clearing. It leapt, colliding with the tree, and I was dislodged. Flapping my wings, I cried out, the sound echoing through the glade as I tumbled to the ground.
A gnarled hand clamped around my middle and pinned my wings to my sides. I wriggled, pecking and clawing in a desperate attempt to free myself, but I was stuck.
“Magic,” it said forcefully. “Magic!”
“Let him go!”
I screeched, digging my beak into the creature’s flesh. A gust of wind collided with us, and we were sent flying, the grip around my body slackening enough so I could wriggle free.
That was when I realized Aileen stood at the edge of the glade, her hand raised. Magic bled from her, sending waves of heat across my body. I saw why she didn’t use her power unless it was absolutely necessary. The witch shone like a beacon in the darkness, calling everything to her. The sky, the earth, and all the creatures that lived between the two.
She swept her hands in a long arc, and light filled the glade, brighter than any sun or flame. Burying my eyes under my battered wing, I heard the screams of the creature as whatever magic Aileen had flung at it, tore through its body.
Whatever happened next, I didn’t know. When I peered from behind my feathers, the creature was gone, and the witch stood over me, a look of absolute rage on her face. I’d never seen her look so angry, and I cowered under the weight of it.
Aileen grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and shook me with all her might. The force of her anger caused my bones to shatter, and I began to change back into a man. Fire tore through my body as my limbs lengthened and my insides grew, my white feathers melting into my flesh.
When I was done, I knelt in the dirt, naked as the day I was born. I was ashamed to look up. I knew what I would find if I did. Disappointment. I’d gone looking for trouble and had almost been killed, and Aileen…she had almost been dragged down with me.
I wasn’t a warrior or a savior.
I was a fool.
Seven
“What did I tell you?” Aileen exclaimed.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I didn’t think it would be a worry if I was a gyrfalcon.”
“That’s right,” she seethed. “You didn’t think.”
The witch muttered under her breath and began pacing back and forth in front of me.
“The hawthorn was hurting, wasn’t it?” I asked. “That’s what I was feeling.”
“You were lucky I was watching it,” Aileen said irritably.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her expression contorted, and I was positive she didn’t trust me quite as much as she’d let on. If she did, she would’ve told me the truth about the hawthorn when I asked about it the other night. Then we wouldn’t be in this predicament.
“It was a craglorn,” she declared, avoiding my question. “A servant of the witch Carman.”
“Who?” I narrowed my eyes. I was tired of not understanding the world I was a part of. Not because I was daft but because I couldn’t remember.
“A power hungry bitch, that’s who. Evil to the core. She did some very bad things and was banished from Ireland over a thousand years ago because of it. There’s no way she can return. Ohh, I can see that look in your eyes. She ought to be dead after that long, right? Not her. Not with the magic she’s sucked out of witches all over the world. She wants back in, laddy, and she will stop at nothing to open the doorways to the fae realm.”
I stared up at her, not understanding. Fae realm?
“The fae realm,” Aileen reiterated, rolling her eyes. “The land of magic and creatures stranger than you and I put together. A thousand years ago, the doorways were sealed. Just like that.” She clapped her hands together, the sound echoing through the glade. “People and creatures were trapped on both sides. Who knows what’s happening over there, but here…” She shook her head. “Those parasites I told you about? They’re dying without magic, flapping around like fish out of water. That’s where we come in.” She made a slurping sound. “We’re fish food, Boone. Magic is the key to opening the doorways, but none of us have enough on our own. Together, though…”
That thing—the craglorn—and others like it were trapped and had resorted to killing, feeding, and sucking the life out of this world in a desperate attempt to stay alive. It had grabbed me the moment it sensed my magic. It had been desperate, its black eyes empty.
Aileen turned and stared at the hawthorn. “Who knows what horrors will come out of there if Carman gets her way. There are enough of them here already.”
Glancing at the tree, I began to piece together the puzzle. The craglorn had been scratching at the base of the hawthorn, and the only thing left behind was the hole it had managed to dig among the roots.
“The doorways,” I began. “They’re guarded by the hawthorns, aren’t they?”
“Aye,” Aileen said, some of the anger disappearing from her voice.
“Will they come now?” I asked. “Other craglorns?”
/>
“I hope not,” Aileen replied. “The tree should still be strong enough to have dampened my signature, though this one is not long for this world.”
“The hawthorn has that kind of magic? I thought…”
“Of course, it does. All of them do to varying degrees. When the Crescent Witches were at the height of their power, they used them to hold their councils. Under the branches of a hawthorn, words are protected, doorway or no. As you know, there was a reason you landed underneath one the night I found you.”
Covering myself, I sat on the grass, my mind turning over. I felt sick to the stomach. Mostly because I’d betrayed the one person who’d placed their complete trust in me, but also because I was starting to believe I may have been targeting the hawthorn because I was also trying to go home. I had a human body, but I was a shapeshifter. What if this wasn’t who I was at all? What if under my skin was the stony hide of a creature like the craglorn? Was that why she didn’t trust me?
Aileen sat beside me, her gaze locked on the hawthorn. “Things are going to get a lot worse before they have a chance of getting better,” she said. “I’m not sure I can protect Derrydun on my own, let alone face Carman.”
“Aren’t there other witches?”
“There are, but they’re all in hiding. Who knows how to find any of them. If a witch doesn’t want to be found, then it’s near impossible to find her.”
“Can I help?”
She studied my expression for a moment and then sighed. “I’ve seen enough of your bare ass to last a lifetime. You had better flap away and find where you left your clothes.”
“But—”
“Roy will be wondering where you are.” She rose to her feet gracefully and approached the hawthorn.
While her back was turned, I changed back into a gyrfalcon and flew up onto a branch. I watched her examine the damage the craglorn had inflicted on the tree, but she never raised her head.
