Emily's House (The Akasha Chronicles)

by Wright, Natalie

  In a flash, he was sober and alert like he hadn’t been in years. There was a clue in that phrase, something big. A big clue that Emily didn’t even know she was leaving her father. A clue she didn’t know she was leaving him because she didn’t know what he knew.

  Liam ran to the attic, taking the steps by two. There, in the far corner, covered in dust and cobwebs, a special box. He had hidden this one – under clothes and other junk. Hidden it from Muriel and from Emily too.

  The box of Bridget. His own box. He hadn’t touched any of these things in over seven years. Liam’s hands shook as he took the little box from under the pile of stuff and wiped off the years of dust. A mundane shoebox. It didn’t look like anything noteworthy would be inside.

  When Emily spoke of her ancient blood, Liam knew that she was talking about Bridget’s side of the family – the Irish side.

  Bridget had once shown him a family history, actually drawn out by her like a tree. She kept it in this box.

  Off with the lid. On top were letters Liam had sent her when they were in college at two different universities. He couldn’t believe she had kept them all those years. Pictures Emily had drawn for her while in preschool – pictures of houses and flowers. So cute and sweet. He sifted through some concert ticket stubs and more letters and cards. It was strange to see someone’s memories of their life – now over – laid in a box that way. Bridget’s memories laid to rest in a shoebox coffin.

  There were sketches she had done of orchids and other flowers. Then there, on the very bottom, a small black notebook. Just a few pages in, a sketch of a family tree – her family tree. It was a complex and convoluted drawing with lines going here and there and everywhere and notes in the margins. She had done the work, tracing her history. Bridget had gotten her mother’s side back to the 1700’s. And then there it was. Ireland.

  As soon as he saw it, he knew that was where Emily had gone. Somehow she had received contact from someone in Ireland and felt she had to go. But who? Liam looked at the names of ancestors long dead. Unless a ghost had haunted her, he had no idea who could have contacted her. But he knew he had to get on a plane and go to Ireland.

  He didn’t know what he would do when he got there or where he would go. All he knew was that he had to get on a plane and fly to Ireland and search for his only daughter.

  Liam put the cards, letters, ticket stubs and pictures back in the box and grabbed the little black notebook. As he stood up, a small sketch fell out of the notebook and landed on the floor. He picked it up and puzzled over it for a few minutes. It was an odd sketch of something that looked like a bracelet. Liam had never seen Bridget draw anything like this. She always drew and painted flowers and plants and trees – nature. Why did she draw this odd bracelet, all twisted and coiled with finials on either end? Somehow it seemed to Liam that this drawing was related to Emily’s ‘mission’.

  As he looked at the sketch, tears sprang to his eyes. It felt to Liam as though Bridget’s energy zoomed from the strange drawing. Salty drops dripped from his eyes, the first tears he had cried since the day she had died.

  “Bridget, I miss you so much. If only you were here, you’d know what to do. You’d know how to find our Emily. Let's face it, if you were here, she wouldn’t have run away, would she?” he asked to the void that surrounded him.

  “Bridget, I don’t know if you can hear me. Hell, I don’t even know if I believe that you still exist. You know I’m not a spiritual man. I don’t know why I’m doing this,” he said as he buried his head in his hands and let the long quashed tears flow in rivers down his cheeks.

  “Bridget, if you can hear me – if you’re still there – somewhere – somehow – if you’re there, Bridge, our little girl needs you too. If you’re there, look over our Emily.”

  After a few minutes, Liam wiped his tears and nose and folded the little sketch and tucked it back into the notebook. He’d have time on the plane to puzzle over the drawing and the notebook – the only clues he had.

  24. Emily’s Search for the Sacred Well

  When I woke, it was the next morning. We had all slept through that afternoon and into the next day. When we were awake and had eaten, Jake pulled out his maps and Fanny cranked up the GPS app on her phone so we could make a plan.

  Jake pulled up pages on his laptop that he had found about different wells and sanctuaries dedicated to St. Bridget. It was a pretty long list! Apparently over the years, the old goddess Brighid was turned into a Catholic saint, St. Bridget. The spelling was different, and she was now a saint, not a Goddess. But she was still associated with wells and springs and healing waters as she had been for thousands of years. There were wells and springs dedicated to her all over Ireland. But as Jake plotted the wells and springs on his map, we could see a concentration of them in County Kildare.

  “This is promising,” Jake said. “There are at least two wells within walking distance of each other in Kildare town.”

  “Bingo,” said Fanny. “Hey, do you think that town cop called in like an APB and has the whole Irish police force out looking for us?” Fanny asked.

  “I think we should be cautious. In a little town like that, digging up a grave at a religious site, that’s probably like a high crime or something,” I said.

  Fanny searched the web and found a bus schedule. We hiked to the next town and took the Bus Eireann and after two bus changes and six hours, we went about a hundred miles and got off in Kildare.

  By the time we got there, it was about an hour before dark. But it was only about a mile from the bus stop to the first well on our list so we decided to press on.

  Our most likely candidate was this small somewhat touristy site that had a statue of St. Brigid and a walking path to a well. We walked down a newly paved road with an actual sidewalk, following the signs to ‘St. Brigid’s Well’. Before long a sign pointed down a long paved lane lined with towering old trees. When we got to the end of the lane, there were some cars parked there and about a half dozen people milling about the site.

  We walked over a small wooden bridge onto a manicured lawn of intensely green grass. A statue of St. Brigid stood by a small stream, and there was a path with grey upright prayer stones leading to a small ring of stones.

  There it was. A small hole in the ground surrounded by stones. Not much to look at! And it wasn’t a deep hole – only going down about two feet into the ground. It was hard to believe that this little hole in the ground was a portal to another world. I had a lot of doubt at that point and felt silly about the whole thing.

  “Well, let’s get this over with,” I said as I began to reach in my bag for the box with the torc in it.

  “Wait Em, you can’t do that now,” screeched Jake. “Not with these people around.”

  “Why not Jake? Nothing’s going to happen anyway, and these tourists will just think I’m some weird American kid.”

  “What do you mean nothing’s going to happen? When you pull that thing out of its box, the portal will open up,” said Fanny.

  I just laughed out loud at that. They really believed this stuff!

  “Look at this,” I said. “It’s a pathetic hole in the ground you guys! Admit it, this doesn’t look like a portal to another dimension, does it?”

  Both just looked at the hole in the ground and at each other, then back to me. They couldn’t say anything. They knew I was right.

  “Okay, Em, maybe nothing will happen. But we stole that artifact, remember? I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring it out and wave it around in broad daylight with all these people around,” Jake said.

  “Okay, not right now. We’ll wait ‘til night when these people are gone,” I relented.

  “So what do we do now?” asked Fanny.

  “Let’s go back up to the town and have some supper. We’ll come back at night.”

  We stopped in at a small restaurant and had some Guinness stew, brown bread and Coca Cola. After a satisfying supper, we staggered back to the well. We were tired, and our
bellies were full for the first time in days. We were ready to get the torc out and get this whole thing over with.

  It was full dark when we got back to the well. Instead of all the tourists leaving, an even larger crowd had gathered.

  “What’s up with this crowd?” I wondered aloud.

  “I don’t know, but it looks like they’ve got a big bonfire that they’re getting ready to light over there in that field,” said Fanny.

  She was right. It was a pile of wood and kindling large enough to set a house on fire. There was a real festival atmosphere going on as more and more people gathered.

  Jake walked up to a small round lady and asked, “What’s going on here tonight?”

  “Well, it’s Samhein – All Hallow’s Eve, don’t you know? We’re honoring the spirits of our ancestors. Join in the festivities, lad,” she merrily answered.

  “Oh, okay, thank you then,” he replied as she shuffled off with her friends.

  “Not looking like a good night to try to open the portal, does it,” Jake said as he returned to where we were standing.

  “Ah, this bites,” I said. “I’m so tired. I just want to get this over with!”

  “What do we do now?” Fanny asked.

  We stood there in silence for a few minutes. We were all tired beyond belief and cold. As miserable as my home had been for me, at that moment I would have gladly taken another crack in the face from Muriel if it was followed by sleep in my own bed.

  We were just standing there, half asleep standing up, when a large bird swooped down and almost took my head off.

  “What the. . .” was all I could get out before it came back and swooped down again, this time actually grabbing at my jacket with its beak.

  “What kind of bird is that?” Fanny asked.

  “Looks like a small hawk,” Jake answered.

  “A hawk?”

  All of us just looked at each other, jaws open, remembering what Hindergog had said. ‘Follow the hawk.’

  Just as we were thinking that, the bird came at me again, this time flying right at me. I wasn’t sure she was going to pull up, but at the last minute, she did and flew across the grassy field just to the west of the well.

  “Follow the hawk,” said Fanny.

  “Yeah, I know what Hindergog said,” I replied.

  “No, I mean do it. Follow the hawk.”

  All three of us ran then to try to catch up with the bird.

  “Why are we following this bird exactly?” asked Jake.

  “Because the little dude with the pointy ears told us to,” said Fanny.

  “Good point,” Jake said.

  The bird led us away from the crowds at the Well of St. Brigid and over some small hills. After about a quarter of a mile, we were well away from the bonfires and revelry and came to a small clump of old trees by a small brook.

  As we went down a little dip, we began to enter a thick grove of trees. My body went into overdrive. I got chills up and down my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck and on my arms were standing up. Even the hairs on my legs were on end. My heart was racing. What was this place?

  “Does anyone else feel that?” Fanny asked.

  “What, you feel it too?” I asked.

  “Yeah, all my hairs are standing up,” said Jake.

  And he was right. I looked over at him, and the hair on his head was standing straight up, like someone had rubbed a balloon on it and made static electricity.

  “Holy crap, look at Jake’s hair!” said Fan. “Not a good look for you man”

  We couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous hair.

  “Come on guys, this isn’t time for jokes. There must be something near here causing this,” Jake said.

  We wandered around in the light of a full moon. The trees and vines were thick here, and it was a bit hard to pick our way through the wood. We couldn’t see the hawk anymore, and I wasn’t sure we were going the right way, but then we heard the hawk cry out and we turned to go in the direction of its voice.

  A few minutes later we came to a small clearing. And there, perched atop a rock, was the hawk. She was beautiful in the full moon, her brown feathers flecked with white and her chest nearly all white. Even though it was entirely dark now, in the full moon, her black eyes shone like two rounds of onyx.

  For some reason, even now I don’t know why, I felt like I should talk to the hawk.

  “Are you the hawk that Hindergog said to follow?” I asked it.

  The bird didn’t move but let out a short squawk.

  “And is this the well – the Sacred Well?”

  Again, a short squawk.

  “Amazing,” said Jake. “Hey wait Emily, take out the torc.”

  I did and handed it to him.

  “Look, the bird on the torc. It’s a hawk. It’s the same bird!”

  Fanny took the torc and inspected the bird finial and then looked at the hawk and finally nodded her head in agreement.

  “Yep, it’s a hawk alright.”

  Jake took out his flashlight and shone it around the ground.

  “There’s a ring of stones here. This is it. This is the real well.”

  The hawk squawked again, only this time a bit louder. It was as if she was saying “That’s what I said, stupid!”

  This well was smaller and less noticeable than the first, just a small, broken ring of stones. We all stood in complete silence. I’m sure they had the same chills going up and down their spine that I had going up and down mine.

  “This is it,” is all I could say. Fanny and Jake just nodded their heads.

  “Emily, put the torc on now,” said Fanny.

  “Yeah,” chimed in Jake.

  I knew they were right. This was it. This was the place. But I didn’t want to put it on. Now, here at this well, it no longer seemed like it wouldn’t work. Now I felt like it was going to do something and I was scared. I didn’t want to go into this little hole. What if I can’t breathe? What if I get ripped apart? What if I can’t come back?

  “Come on Em,” Fanny said. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Well,” I stammered, “what if someone sees?”

  “There isn’t anyone around here. They’re all over at the bonfire. They can’t see us,” said Jake. Fanny nodded her agreement.

  Fanny held the torc out to me. I reached for the arm bracelet, half expecting it to crawl itself up onto my arm or for the small hole in the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

  But as I grabbed the torc, nothing happened. It didn’t feel strange or magical at all. The well was still just a small hole in the ground surrounded by ordinary stones. The torc was still just an old arm bracelet made of twisted metal. Nothing.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Jake ‘cause he knew I was talking to him. “Hindergog said you’d know what to do.”

  “Yeah, well I don’t! How am I supposed to know what to do with this thing?” I yelled. The hawk let out a large yell then.

  “And I can’t understand what the hell you’re saying,” I grumped.

  We all stood there for a while, none of us knowing what to do next. Then Jake said, “Look in the box Em. Maybe there are instructions in there or a spell or something.”

  I looked in the box, but there wasn’t anything. No inscription or ancient writing. No pictures. Just an empty box.

  Jake inspected the torc itself. Nothing there. Just a bunch of twisted coils of gold.

  “Oh, this is useless,” I said. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Then Fanny chimed in, “Put it on.”

  “What?” I said.

  “You know. Put it on. Around your arm like Hindergog said that Saorla wore it.”

  “Well I’ve been holding it and nothing happened. I don’t see how putting it on is going to make a difference,” I said.

  “I don’t know,” Fanny replied. “But try it anyway – it can’t hurt.”

  The hawk let out another excited squawk.

  “Appare
ntly she agrees with you Fanny,” I said.

  I took my jacket off. The torc was pretty large and it slid easily onto my upper arm. Then something truly strange happened.

  The torc tightened itself. All on its own, it tightened on my arm until it fit me perfectly. Fanny and Jake both saw it, and they looked stupefied.

  “Holy crap, did you see that?” Jake asked.

  I couldn’t answer because at that moment, my head began swirling. In a matter of seconds, I was no longer there with Jake and Fanny. The ground around me moved and morphed. I stood in front of the same well, only now in a long purple robe and white tunic. I don’t know if it was a vision or real, but I was Saorla then and I heard myself say something.

  I concentrated on what was being said, and I realized I was saying it. I spoke these words:

  “Ring of stones,

  Circle of Moon.

  Goddess of Fire,

  And of the Light.

  Lift the veil of illusion,

  Open the door to truth,

  For the good of all mankind.”

  Then something began to happen. I couldn’t tell if it was just in my vision or in the real world with Jake and Fanny. But the earth trembled, and that little hole in the ground got bigger. It grew larger and larger, and I could see a strange silvery mist coming out of it. It looked like fog in a way, but it was thicker – like a liquid blanket made out of silver.

  My vision was interrupted by Jake’s voice saying, “You did it Em! That’s the portal.”

  I blinked my eyes, and I was back in the real world. Fanny and Jake were there looking at the portal that was now clearly visible. They could see it too. I wasn’t just seeing things. It was really happening.

  “Are you going to go in?” asked Fanny.

  “I guess,” was all I could say.