Currents of Change

by Darian Smith

  “Jereth!” Bridget called. “What have you done?”

  “What have I done?” His eyes flashed fire. “What was necessary!”

  She ran forward, her heart sinking in her chest. “Jereth, please stop.”

  Her foot struck something soft. She looked down. The still form of her Nan lay in the grass, her skin blackened with burn marks. She was dead.

  “No. No!” The horror of it choked the words in her throat.

  Jereth growled, his muscles straining against whatever held his lower half in the water, trapped in the realm on the other side. “Set me free, witch! Set me free!”

  The lightning spilling from his skin trembled and flexed. A strand of it touched Bridget but she felt nothing. The ring on her finger glowed brightly, its power protecting her against his magic.

  She stood up tall, wiped her eyes and squared her shoulders. She would not let this man, this murderer, this creature of fae deceive her again. “No!” She pointed her fist at the portal and the gemstone in the ring he’d given her flared bright. She drew on all the magic her Nan had taught her, everything of the Earth, and everything she could access of fae magic through the ring and flung it all at the fairy circle she and her grandmother had created, slamming it closed.

  A blast of energy washed over the clearing and knocked her from her feet. She hit the ground in a painful thud that rattled her bones. When she looked up, Jereth was gone. In his place was a twisted, stunted kauri tree growing in the centre of the circle’s pool.

  A hand touched her shoulder and she gasped. When she turned, it was the older Maori woman, the one they called kuia. “You did well, girl,” the old woman said kindly. Her moko was a dark pattern of ink against the brown of her skin. “It is done.”

  Bridget felt her eyes fill with tears. “Why?” she wailed. “Why did he do that? I loved him so much.”

  The kuia pulled her into an embrace. “I know, child. But he was a spirit creature. An ira atua. He did not belong in this place. You did right to shut the gate to his world.”

  “I don’t think it will hold,” Bridget choked out between sobs. “I couldn’t force him back before I closed it. He’s still half in our world. I think he’ll escape.”

  The Maori woman lifted her chin with her hand, her dark eyes searched Bridget’s, then, seemingly satisfied, she nodded. “Then we will help you keep him there. He must never be allowed into this world or he will kill us all.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Sara? Sara!” Something gripped her shoulder and shook her. Sara forced her eyes open and lashed out, slapping at the creature that was pulling her down.

  “Get away from me!”

  The fog cleared from her mind and she saw Nate backing away, his hands spread apart, palms up. There were three cats in the dining room, just casually washing or sitting watching her. Strangely, she didn’t feel the urge to sneeze.

  “I’m sorry,” Nate said. “You were unconscious. I was worried.”

  Sara rubbed at her eyes. Her pulse was still pounding in her ears. Bridget’s adrenaline still rushing through her veins. The visions had been so real. Memories. They were real. She couldn’t explain it but she knew what she had seen really happened. Another betrayal from another man. Another woman heartbroken to pick up the pieces after a death.

  Bridget’s Nan, Sara’s own unborn child. Would there be no end to the heartbreak? Men weren’t to be trusted. Any of them. They were all sweetness and light at the beginning but that light burned and it was Sara and those she loved who would pay the price for it.

  Nate stepped forward and reached out to help her up.

  “Back off!” she snapped, thrusting out her hand to stop him.

  He staggered back a few steps as if he’d been pushed. “What’s wrong?”

  Sara pulled herself to her feet. “You tell me.”

  He sighed. “You overheard Moana and I. Listen, she has some strange superstitions. Don’t let it get to you. It doesn’t mean anything to me and I’m sure everyone else in town will ignore it too.”

  “You think I care what Moana thinks?” Sara steadied herself on the back of the chair. “I heard you, Nate. I trusted you and you told her I was a freak and you told her every secret I’d opened up to you about. How do you think that makes me feel?”

  “I...” His mouth moved soundlessly for a moment. “I was trying to defend you. I didn’t realize...”

  “What? That my abusive ex and dead child weren’t something I’d want everyone in town to know about? That I opened up to you about my deepest, darkest secrets because I care about you? Because I thought you cared about me and would be a safe person to talk to about it?” Her whole body was quivering with emotion. She gripped the back of the chair so hard her knuckles went white, determined not to let him see how much his betrayal had hurt her. “Don’t you worry. I’ve learned my lesson. I learned it long ago. Reveal any weakness and people will use it against you. Greg always did. I just thought you were different.”

  Nate moved towards her, his arms wide. “Sara, I...”

  Sara flinched.

  Nate froze. His mouth dropped open. “My God. You thought I was going to hit you.”

  Sara stared at the floor. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I think any more.”

  “Wow.” Nate closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. “Wow. I think you know how I feel about you, Sara. I would never hit anyone I care about, no matter what they said to me. If you can’t tell the difference between me and your ex, then I don’t know what we’re doing here.”

  They stood in silence for a long time. Sara couldn’t look up, couldn’t look at this face. It was as if she was paralysed. She could hardly tell what was real any more.

  A large ginger cat jumped down from his perch on the dining chair and walked across the room.

  “I should go,” Nate said.

  Before Sara could think what to say to him, he was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sara regretted the argument as soon as the door closed behind him. He hadn’t meant to upset her. She certainly knew how easy it was to let things slip out in the heat of an argument. If he’d been defending her to Moana, as he’d said, well, it was still a betrayal of trust but an accidental one and done for noble reasons.

  As for letting him think she believed him capable of violence towards her...that was her own baggage, not his. The look of hurt in his eyes when he’d seen her flinch was almost more than she could bear. She couldn’t punish him for Greg’s mistakes. Or her own.

  “Nate, wait.” She hurried after him and made it through the dining room door when one of the cats ran between her legs, tripping her. “Damn it!” She reached out to catch herself and a bolt of electricity burst from the ring on her hand, crackling down the hall to shatter the pane of glass in the front door. Shards of glass rained down over the polished wood floor like crystal hail.

  The cat purred.

  “What the hell?” She stared at the ring, trying to see any sign of magic or power in the gemstone’s depths. She remembered the vision she’d had of Bridget and the Maori women in the basement, summoning up the stone vines with their chanting and the power of the fae ring. She remembered what Jereth had said about it in Bridget’s memories: that it could access his power.

  “Shit!” Sara tugged at the ring, trying to pull it off her finger. It stuck on her knuckle, sharp edges digging into the skin. “Shit shit shit! Get off!”

  The cat growled.

  A wave of dizziness washed over Sara as Bridget’s ghost appeared again. “Stop,” whispery voice of the dead woman said. “The ring protects.”

  Sara shook her head against the ghost’s words. “This is so messed up. You’re dead! This is ridiculous. I can’t be part of this. It’s too much.”

  The metal circle slipped past Sara’s knuckle and off her finger. Her skin tingled and sparks fountained out from the wall sockets.

  “At last!” A voice rang in her mind. A voice deep and earthy as tre
e roots. “It is time for us, Sara. Come to me now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Nate tried to put Sara O’Neill out of his mind as he lifted a large, cardboard delivery box onto his electrical supplies counter at the store. He’d stuffed up royally. There was no doubting that. The question was, could he fix it?

  The store was empty but for Abigail, drawing on some scrap paper in the corner and Moana at the main counter. The rows of groceries between them seemed colder than the frozen section. She would come around though. For all her faults, Moana was a woman who believed in family.

  Sara, on the other hand, he was less sure of.

  She was wounded from her last relationship. He’d known that. Hell, if he were to give advice to anyone else in this situation, it would be to stay clear. So why couldn’t he take his own advice? There was something about her that drew him in. Something that made him feel things he hadn’t felt about any other woman since Emma.

  She was different to the women he knew in town. Interesting, talented, and so incredibly strong and capable in ways she wouldn’t even acknowledge to herself. He felt happier in her presence than he had felt in a long time. Working together to save her house made it feel like they were partners. He’d been surprised at how much she knew and how capable she really was. Somehow, even wielding a sledgehammer and covered in dust, she exuded femininity and strength in a mix that was as distracting as it was sexy.

  It’d been a shock to find her on the floor this morning. Whether she’d collapsed or merely fallen asleep there, he wasn’t sure, but seeing her like that had made his heart feel as though it were being electrocuted. When she’d woken up and been nothing but angry he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

  His intentions of making amends for anything she’d heard of his and Moana’s fight, however, were quickly dashed and when she’d actually flinched away from him...the memory of it made his chest ache still.

  He stabbed a pen into the packing tape on the box and ran it along the crease, breaking the seal. He pulled back the flaps but barely saw the collection of batteries, fuses and other items inside.

  He’d only meant to offer a hug. To soothe her somehow and apologise for his mistake. Instead he’d made it worse.

  “Daddy.” Abigail tugged on his sleeve. “When am I going back to Sara’s house? It’s boring here.”

  Nate sighed. “I don’t know, honey. Soon, I hope.” Better to give her some space today.

  “I drew her a picture.” The little girl held up a drawing of a house surrounded by cats.

  He chuckled. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

  The chime on the door sounded, announcing the presence of a customer. Nate caught himself looking up eagerly, hoping it would be Sara. Instead a dark haired man in his mid-thirties, wearing jeans and a buttoned up dress shirt paused to look over the store, then made his way to Moana at the main counter. He had a photograph of a car in his hand.

  Nate sighed and turned back to his delivery. He pulled out a carton of double A batteries and a couple of watch batteries he’d ordered in especially for Sara, given how much trouble she was having with her watch.

  “Excuse me,” he overhead the man saying. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen this car anywhere in town have you? It was stolen about a month ago and got snapped by a speed camera not far from here.”

  “Sorry,” said Moana. “I’m not really into cars.”

  “Fair enough.” The man’s voice was warm and charming. “What about this woman?”

  Nate’s head snapped up. Why would a stranger in town be asking about cars or a woman? There was only one new woman in town within the last month.

  “Oh yes, I know her,” Moana was saying, her finger tapping the second photograph. “That’s Sara O’Neill. Right piece of work. She’s who took your car, is she?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Nate waved frantically, trying to catch Moana’s attention. She glanced at him and he shook his head. “No,” he mouthed silently.

  Moana smiled sweetly. “Head North. First road on your left, then third right. Hers is the last house on the road.”

  The man picked up the photographs. “Thank you. You’ve been most helpful.”

  “Want me to call the police?” Moana asked.

  “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll just get what’s mine.” He slid a fifty dollar bill across the counter. “For your trouble.”

  “Moana, you idiot!” As soon as the man was gone, Nate threw his stock items back in the box and shoved it under the counter. “What did you do that for?”

  “Do what?” She raised her chin defiantly. “Tell a man where his stolen car is?”

  “Did you think for a second about what I told you yesterday about Sara’s past? The car isn’t stolen. It’s just registered with her ex’s name and address. That’s the man who put Sara in the hospital and killed their unborn baby!”

  Moana’s face went grey. “Oh God. Are you serious?”

  Nate’s lip curled. “If you weren’t so caught up in your petty rivalry you’d have realized how suspicious that was. You’ve just handed her over to a madman. Now close the shop. We’re going to go fix this.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sara stared into the water of the circle pool. Ripples on the surface traced patterns that sparkled with light. Will-o’-the-wisps danced in the periphery of her vision like reflections from a mirror-ball. The twisted tree in the centre swayed and she could feel the being trapped inside it reaching out to her.

  “Welcome,” it said. “You came at last.”

  Sara blinked and looked around. “How did I get here?” She didn’t remember the walk. Didn’t remember the bush or the path. Only the deep earthy voice, calling her on. “Jereth?”

  The tree shivered and leaves fell from its branches, making tiny green boats on the surface of the water. As they fell, the leaves traced patterns of light in the air, a filigree of glowing threads. When they were done, she could see they were woven into a pattern – the form of a man with a beautiful face, golden hair, and shining green eyes.

  “I’ve been here for so long, Sara,” he said. “Set me free.”

  Her head felt light and dizzy. He was so beautiful. She couldn’t get enough air in her lungs. Couldn’t breathe. “How?” she gasped, slowly dropping to her knees before him, tearing her gaze away from his face and staring into the water at his feet.

  “Give me back my ring,” he said. “The traitor witch has used it against me long enough.”

  “I’m no traitor.” Bridget’s ghost drifted out of the trees. The fae seemed not to see or hear her, but her presence helped clear Sara’s head. “Don’t give him the ring, child. It is all that protects this world from his kind.”

  Bridget had never spoken so much before. Sara shook her head. It was as if she was drunk somehow. It was so hard to think clearly. “Why? How are you talking to me?”

  Bridget smiled. “You forged a connection between us when you entered my memories, Sara. I’m more real in the world now. For a little while, at least.”

  “The bindings on me are weakening,” said Jereth, obviously thinking her question was meant for him. “But they are not yet gone. Help me and I will reward you when my people are free.”

  “But...” Sara fingered the hard edges of the ring in her pocket, struggling to think. “I don’t think I should.”

  “Do it,” Jereth urged her, and at the sound of his voice her body leaned forward closer to the water. “Throw the ring into the pool. It is mine. Let me have it back.”

  Sara waivered. “You hurt people. You killed Bridget’s nana.” She thought of her own grandmother, back at the retirement home in Auckland. How could she free a man who would hurt an innocent old woman? How could she free any man who would hurt any woman? She climbed to her feet and backed away from the circle. “You hurt Bridget. You’re just like Greg. So, no! You can rot in hell!”

  Jereth roared in frustration. A blast of wind shook the surrounding trees and the will-o�
��-the-wisps stopped in their tracks and shivered. “Wait! And look.” He pointed at the pool.

  A ripple traced over the surface of the water and when it cleared, Abigail lay at the bottom of the pool. Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful. Her chest rose and fell with regular breaths as she slept under the water.

  “Give me the ring and I will give you back this child,” Jereth said.

  “Don’t listen,” Bridget whispered. “Don’t trust him.”

  Jereth’s face twisted with annoyance. “You think I don’t see you, witch?” A crackle of lightning leapt from the water to strike the ghost. She dissipated like mist. “If not for your lover’s child, Sara, what of your own?”

  Sara looked again and Abigail held a baby in her arms. The tiny child held her arms up toward Sara, miniature fingers clasping at nothing, reaching for her mother.

  Sara gasped. It was a blow to her chest. Everything she’d felt in the hospital flooded back. The despair, the loss, the pain. The judgement. Her child had left this world rather than be with her in the home she’d made with Greg. Her whole body felt constricted with the guilt.

  “You could save her, Sara. You could make her safe.” Jereth’s voice was soft and seductive.

  “Stay strong, Sara,” Bridget whispered in her mind. “It’s not real.”

  But what if it was real? Could she really take that chance? Her child was dead and yet...so was Bridget. That didn’t stop the woman participating in the world. What if Jereth could bring her daughter back?

  “Can you do it?” she asked. “Can you really bring her back from the dead?”

  “Give me the ring, Sara,” he whispered. “Set me free.”

  She stared at it. A small circle of gold and gemstone in the palm of her hand. Such a small trinket to part with. Such a small price to pay.

  She held it out over the water.