Destiny's Gate

by Lee Bice-Matheson

  “Can’t say I like the sounds of that! Is this a gift or a curse?” I asked feeling rather overwhelmed. I arose too quickly, causing a head rush, and collapsed back onto the loveseat.

  “Take it easy, Paige. This is a lot of information to absorb. But I promise you, in time, you’ll see it is a gift. I’ll get you a glass of water,” Peggy said.

  “Wait...” I grabbed her hand. “I’m not sure how I feel about all of this; my gut tells me if you feel this is a positive gift to have, then it is. I’m going with that. For whatever reasons, I’ve been chosen for this. I will trust that it’s bigger than both of us. And I’ll do whatever’s necessary when the time is right. Thank you, Peggy.”

  Tilting my head upwards, I said, “Thanks, Mackenzie for reminding me you are both still around. It means the world to me.” I heard a little giggle.

  As I met Peggy’s warm eyes, a random thought popped into my mind to go and check on grandpa. I gently grasped Peggy’s hand and said, “I forgot to eat lunch today. I’m all right but I really do need to go home.” I smiled weakly.

  Peggy nodded in return. I stood up and leaned down to hug her and she whispered in my ear, “Don’t forget your protection prayers in the morning and your clearing energy prayers in the evening before bed.”

  I agreed to do just that and as I walked out the front door I realized I was not taught the clearing energy prayer. A little girl’s voice floated into my head, don’t worry, Paige, I’ll help you with that tonight, followed by another giggle. I knew in that instance, it was Mackenzie who had chosen to become my guardian angel, and for that I was grateful.

  While strolling back to the manor, it felt as if I observed the world through blessed senses. Everything seemed much more beautiful than before: the pitch of the wind as it rustled through the leaves, the call of the blue jay shrilly in the air, the fledgling flowers waved hello with their bright red, orange and yellow petals that soon would fall to Mother Earth only to return again next spring. I felt invincible.

  The idea that we were never alone resonated within me and touched my soul. I knew this was a truth in my reality. I did not want this feeling to end and sensed it would dissipate, as I neared the manor grounds. I tried to convince myself not to let anyone shake this belief, no matter who might try. Hold on to the truth, Paige, cried out in my mind. It sounded like mom’s comforting voice. I smiled. Peggy was right — mom could reach me from Italy at any time.

  Approaching the O’Brien Estate, I looked up. A cold breeze washed over me causing goosebumps across my body. Something was nearby. Everything looked different from this angle, as I approached from the opposite direction than when we had first arrived at O’Brien Manor. A dark cloud manifested and encircled the mansion. I remembered I had seen this once before. What had a hold on my family? While pondering the question, I felt no fear; curious, yes. It was freeing.

  Remember your protection prayers, said a voice. I stopped briefly to say the prayer, surrounding myself with white light, and then arose while taking a deep breath and entered the pathway to the manor.

  A commanding voice suddenly popped into my head, go away, Paige.

  I knew that whatever was looking for me had found me. I replied aloud, “No, you go away. You are not welcome here. You must leave this place at once. Leave now!”

  There was no further response. I felt a heightened sense of awareness and an adrenalin rush. This was my destiny to protect my family and our heritage, with a little help from my friends.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Conall Returns

  Studying Allan Brewer closely made Conall feel uneasy. He knew the darkness that lingered within Allan’s heart. It was much like his own before he was saved with the help of Paige. After all, if it wasn’t for her love for her family and her desire to protect them, she would not have restored the stone tablet with the poem Alone on it which he had engraved. His mother would not have transitioned to face him and tell him the truth of their family’s tragedy. Freed from the anger and hatred he had developed against the O’Brien’s, it was unsettling to understand the destruction that could result from such seething bitterness. How could he possibly help Paige now? After existing as a negative energy, would it be possible to overcome his past sins to help someone as pure and honourable as Paige?

  Conall watched as Allan sat back on his heels and transformed into a wolf. Conall encircled Allan, undetected. Living in pure spirit form was heavenly and invisible to most humans. What was Allan — a werewolf? Conall’s warrior spirit took over as he wondered if Allan was on the estate to harm Paige.

  Allan began to circle the perimeter of the condemned cottage. He was looking for something as he sniffed about each turn. Randomly, he leapt onto the rooftop in one fell swoop. Conall noticed his ripped muscles. This was one wolf to be wary of. Allan began to howl, a low growl at first, increasing to an uncomfortable, loud, piercing pitch. Was he calling others?

  Conall watched as two wolves appeared at the edge of the forest, then four, then what amounted to...eighteen. This could not be good. Each wolf differed in appearance. A couple were enormous, twice the size of a normal wolf, others appeared abnormally small, while still others were odd sizes, lean and mean, and some even a bit mangy yet overweight. Colours ranged from grey to brown with copper striping, to midnight black.

  The wolves unsettled Conall; he made sure not one wolf could sense him. This was an important moment Conall did not want to miss. He picked up on their profound energy and heard the haunted sounds as their nails dug into the wood as they stealthily crept up the sides of the cottage. Conall swiftly backed off. The wolves sat in front of Allan in an organized linear formation; had he commanded a small army to appear and for what purpose? It was unnerving to watch as Allan slightly shifted his body weight and stood stiff legged and tall with his ears erect. After a series of yipping, growling and howling from Allan, some low, some long, some short and shrill, the rest of the pack howled in unison and then they stopped as if on command and retreated one by one. Something major had occurred but with all the sensory perception Conall possessed, he had no clue as to what was about to unfold.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ten Pairs of Yellow Eyes

  Drawn to the manor basement and its underground maze of hallways leading in and out of the smallest rooms on record, I was reminded of the second story of the guest house. As I navigated my way from one room to another, I could not help but notice how freezing cold it was and it did cross my mind: was it the actual temperature or was there a ghost stalking me? I shivered at the thought.

  The odd room contained antique furniture stored away, long forgotten. The musty smell was a bit overwhelming but my curiosity was greater yet. One room in particular lured me in. When I asked grandma about it later that day, she was hesitant to reply and then reluctantly explained that it was an ice vault; a room in which blocks of ice were kept to keep the meat preserved. Only the butler or maids had access to it many moons ago. A chill ran up my spine, as I listened, and I wondered what had really transpired in that particular room. The conversation abruptly digressed to inquiries about my life at school, squashing any further questions I may have had. Somehow, I knew that room was more than just an ice vault at one time.

  The next day, I had an overwhelming desire to revisit the vault, still contemplating my conversation with grandma. I sat on my bed lost in thought and pondered whether or not I should go down there, or see what Peggy was up to. A nagging feeling finally got the best of me. I walked out to the deserted hallway towards the three quarter door and clicked on the overhead dangling light bulb. I inserted the skeleton key, unlocked the door, and tippytoed down the stairs. A prickly feeling spread across my body and I tried to reassure myself that nothing supernatural was around; it was only a flashback to last summer.

  At the bottom of the stairs, I stopped and looked to the right towards the dark room and vividly pictured the moment when Conall hurled Bradley Adam Parkma
n against the wall; I shivered, closed my eyes momentarily, and was relieved to see nothing had appeared when they opened.

  It seemed still in the basement. I crept cautiously to the left, counting fifty-six steps, until I reached the ice vault room. Searching my pocket, I discovered I had forgotten a flashlight. I hastily retraced my steps and ran to the kitchen to retrieve a flashlight from the utility drawer. Thank goodness dad had made a point of telling me it was there, in case of emergencies. As I turned to retreat to the basement, I spied my grandfather sitting in the dining room, talking to himself. I crept towards grandpa with the hopes of eavesdropping.

  Grandpa bellowed, “Who’s there?”

  In a flash, I ran towards the basement, almost tripping down the stairs and spilled into the basement hallway. I dropped the flashlight; ten pairs of yellow eyes reflected in the darkness, on my left, and when I turned to the right, there were more. I froze and squeezed my eyes tight, hoping this was just a hallucination. The sound of their nails on the cement floor clicked, clicked, clicked as these creatures drew closer, echoing throughout the hallway. I could smell their rotting flesh as it burned into my nostrils. An overwhelming sense of dread resonated within me and I grasped the fact that this was actually happening.

  For a brief moment, I smelled a musky scent. Something nudged me from behind, almost knocking me down. I caught myself on the railing and gazed at the beautiful blue-eyed wolf. It stared deeply into my eyes as the wolf moved past me. Next, I heard a bone-chilling, low growl arising from it and some scuffling. I lost consciousness.

  When I came to, I had no idea where I was and then remembered the yellow eyes; fear filled every fibre of my senses. Flicking on the flashlight, I caught the back end of the wolf limping down the corridor past the darkroom. It turned and looked back at me; its blue eyes shone brightly against the shadows — a memory I would not forget — and then disappeared into the darkness. I sat back against the wall to regain my composure, relieved the lone wolf was not my enemy. I did not know what to do or who to talk to about this. The name Carole popped into my head and I remembered Peggy’s suggestion to meet her. She was gifted like me and would have some answers.

  Literally, seconds later, I heard Hanna calling my name, faintly at first, then annoyingly louder and louder. I answered back, “Coming!” and ran up the rickety old staircase, past my bedroom and into the kitchen. Out of breath, I was stunned to see Carole standing inside the screen door. I gulped.

  Hanna caught my attention, as I spotted her out of the corner of my eye. She stepped forward and said, “Paige. I’ve been calling you. How nice — one of your school chums has stopped by. Perhaps, this is the friend that had you over for dinner on the first day of school. Remember?” she asked in an annoyed tone, as she stared at Carole.

  Ignoring Hanna, Carole exclaimed, “C’mon, Paige. We have to hurry before the library closes. Our school project is due soon. Let’s go.” Carole walked over to the coat rack, grabbed my jacket, and led the way out of the manor, pulling me as we ran alongside the mansion to the road to Peggy’s cottage. “Wow, that was close, Paige! What have you gotten yourself into? We need to talk to Peggy now.”

  I did not respond, still stuck on the fact that Carole somehow knew where to find me, at the exact moment I needed help. As grateful as I was, it made me a little uneasy.

  Peggy was at the cottage door waving to us to hurry and enter her haven of safety. It felt like an intervention. How did they both know I needed them, now? This made me more aware that this gift was something I needed to learn about. Carole pushed me into the communications room and closed the bay window curtains. Peggy plopped down onto her rocking chair and Carole parked beside me on the loveseat. They studied me.

  Peggy broke the silence and asked, “Paige, what just happened to you? I had a vision of black...dogs surrounding you. I sent for Carole to go to the manor to rescue you. It looks as if you survived the attack? How, exactly? I’m stunned.”

  Carole’s teeth chattered and Peggy looked pale. How could they possibly have known what had just happened to me? I felt queasy though I appreciated I had two very special people supporting me. I found my voice and replied, “I don’t know what happened, really. I found a room in the basement that intrigued me — an ice vault — and I asked my grandma what the room was used for. She was mysterious about it. I think something horrible happened there years ago, and it was calling out to me — the room, I mean. Next thing I know, I’m at the bottom of the stairs and when I looked....” I broke down, crying.

  “You were surrounded by vicious dogs. They were going to kill you...until...you were saved by...a blue-eyed wolf?” Carole’s brown eyes appeared like saucers.

  Carole finished recalling my terrifying experience. I could not believe my own ears. I ran out of the room to Peggy’s bathroom and threw up. Frightened, I never wanted to leave the sanctity of Peggy’s bathroom again. I sat on a pink bath mat next to the soaker tub and overheard the two of them whispering.

  “Should we tell her? Is she ready yet? What should we do?” asked Carole.

  “Nothing! It’s too soon. I beg of you not to say anything. We need to show her that we are here to help and support her. Now, go to the bathroom and bring her back, while I fetch Paige a glass of water.”

  I had never heard Peggy sound so irritated with anyone before, let alone Carole. My new friend entered the room, and sat next to me on the mat.

  “I can only imagine how you are feeling right now, Paige,” Carole said. “Please know we are here to help. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. It’s funny, I feel like we’ve known each other for years. You?” Carole twirled her hair.

  I smiled at her candidacy. It made me feel like I was a part of something for the first time in a long time.

  “Yes,” I replied, nodding my head in agreement. “It’s a familiar feeling when I’m with you. Peaceful.” I smiled at her and thought, finally, I have someone in my life that understands what I am going through.

  It did not surprise me to have the sudden onset of a massive headache. I squinted and gently massaged my temples for relief. Then, as if in a trance, I saw a black dog staring at me with yellow eyes, hunched down and lowly growling, as if ready to pounce. Carole shook me until I snapped out of it. I knew, as I gazed into her eyes filled with terror, this time I needed all the help I could get.

  “Paige, I’m not sure I can help you on my own. You need someone who is stronger and more experienced fighting against the evil that haunts you. I know an elder who can help. He’s at a council meeting and will be back next week. He can help.” Carole was trembling. “I’m afraid for you, Paige.”

  “Whatever this thing is, it’s targeting me and I don’t have any family here to help me. My parents took off to Italy and Peggy is old...I don’t want to burden her with this. You and I don’t know what to do, and Hanna, well Hanna, is acting so strange lately, I wouldn’t confide in her if my life depended on it. You know, she actually blamed my grandpa’s poor health on my move to O’Brien Manor?! I feel like I’m losing my mind.” I put my head in my hands.

  We sat in silence. I could actually feel Carole’s empathy. It was an unspoken show of support and did offer me some relief. I contemplated her suggestion...an elder, what can he do for me?

  Carole stared pensively at me and said, “Elders hold the secrets of our culture, medicine and spirituality. They are very wise. This particular elder is spiritually aware and knows how to deal with things we cannot see or understand. He is named after Grey Owl, a white man who lived as my ancestors did. He married a woman from the Anishinaabe Ojibwe tribe many years ago and helped our people in the quest to protect our heritage, lands and all earthly creatures. Grey Owl is a family friend and will know what to do.”

  “Thank you, Carole. I need help,” I said, relieved to know that I did not have to fight this supernatural battle alone.

  We arose and rejoined Peggy. I was happy
to learn from Carole that someone out there would be able to help me but was alarmed at how easily she read my thoughts. I felt like a doomed soul especially when a familiar song popped into my mind: Wake Me Up Inside by Evanescence. I had not sung this song since before the move to Camlachie. Remembering the last time I sang it while walking to school, wearing headphones, mere days before arriving at O’Brien Manor, created a wave of hopelessness that washed over me. Am I a doomed soul?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Paige Meets Molly

  They walk amongst us, day or night, you ne’er know if they’re dark or light. Will they help or hurt you, only your inner soul will know. You must beware...

  I awoke with a start and could not get the image of a faceless person in a black robe pointing a long, skinny, crooked finger at me, warning me. It was eerie; I felt clammy, sick to my stomach and foolish as I shouted aloud, “Beware of what? Who are dark or light and who is the man in the robe? Why is everything so cryptic and difficult to figure out?”

  I threw myself back onto my pillows and stared at the ceiling. I waited — nothing was the response; absolutely nothing. No sound, no vision, no gesture at all. And then I remembered I had not done my protection prayers or cleansings. I felt at the bottom of an abyss with no way out, alone again. I began to pray. When sleep finally overcame me, I was thrust into an unfamiliar setting.

  * * *

  I sat up, noticing I could see my breath as I exhaled. A sudden shrill cry startled me. As I looked down, I noticed I was sitting on a cold cement floor in the corner of a dark room. And then I observed, in what seemed like slow motion, the torture of a shirtless young boy tied by both hands to the wall. Someone I could not quite see thrashed him on his back with a long, black-handled, three lash whip. The boy cried out repeatedly, forgive me. The timbre of his voice made me feel sick to my stomach. It was agonizing to listen to. My heart sank for him and I wished I could save him. I could smell the mixture of blood and sweat, as it splashed from his body each time he encountered the whip. It was the most intense display of torture I had ever had the displeasure of witnessing. I was sickened for the boy and wondered why he was being whipped and why I was the witness to it. I assumed I was paralyzed with fear as I tried desperately to rise and help him but was unable to move.