by I D Johnson
Aaron could tell by Kian’s expression that he was having just as much trouble understanding what was being said to them. “Did you say—Vampire? Is that what the Dark Ones are?”
“Dark Ones is a phrase coined by those who do not understand. Yes, they are Vampires. They feed off the blood of humans. Though they are given permission only to take those who have committed sins against humanity, those who dwell here take all that they want. Somehow, long ago, they convinced your clan leaders—those who could have Transformed as you have into beings that could destroy them—to turn a blind eye to the humans they claimed. Over time, the Vampires no longer acknowledged the agreement, and since the Guardians and Hunters no longer spoke of the Ternion, their ancestors forgot. Now, the Vampires can do as they please so long as they do not excite the Ternion blood within those who can turn and destroy them as you have.”
Aaron ran a hand through his hair. Though he was beginning to understand what Ward was telling him, he could not accept it as truth. How could any of this be possible? “You’re saying that the Order are the families who could change into these Hunters and Guardians if they wanted to—but that none of us remembered?”
“And the only reason we started changing yesterday was because those Vampires ignited something within our blood?” Kian finished.
“Very good. You are quick learners,” Ward nodded. “Kian O'Braonain, your clan was one of the greatest Hunters in all the world many hundreds of years ago. All Vampires feared the silver swords of the O’Braonains.” Turning to Aaron, he continued, “And the McReynolds clan comes from the descendants of the great Guardian Leaders. Not only that, your mother’s clan, the O’Riordans, were also highly skilled Guardians. With the blood of both of these clans coursing through your veins, you are sure to become one of the strongest Guardians of all time.”
Both men were still having trouble accepting the information. Aaron looked at Kian and only shook his head. His friend, a stunned look in his eyes, finally asked, “May I have some water?”
With a smile, Ward stood and crossed to a cabinet where he produced two glasses and filled them with water from a pitcher sitting on the counter before he took his chair.
They thanked him for the water, and Aaron took a sip as Kian downed his. He wondered if he’d actually wanted to ask for something stronger.
“This is all a lot to take in,” Aaron admitted.
“I understand,” Ward nodded. “Please, take your time. Ask as many questions as you’d like.”
“And are you a Guardian or a Hunter?” Kian asked, the water apparently helping him regain some of his composure.
“I am a Guardian,” Ward assured him. “My name is Ward Bernard. My father was a Frenchman, my mother English, thus the hybrid name.”
“Doesn’t Ward mean guardian?” Aaron asked.
“You are exceptionally bright, Mr. McReynolds,” Ward replied with a smile.
“So… what does this mean?” Kian asked, leaning back in his chair. “So… I’m a Hunter now? I have to go out and kill Vampires?”
“You do not have to do anything,” Ward replied with a shrug. “But now that the Transformation process has begun, you will not be able to stop it. The coding within your blood has begun to change. Soon enough, you will be stronger, faster, all the time, like you were yesterday while you were being pursued. There is no stopping it now.”
“How do you know about that?” Aaron asked. He knew that there was no one else around. He would have seen.
“We have our methods,” Ward shrugged. “There are not many of our group still here in Killarney, but there are a few. Also, we have a few Vampires on our side. We can listen to them from time to time. I learned of your situation from these sources. We are at a disadvantage because the Vampires can use their minds to communicate, sending messages back and forth through their thoughts.”
Both of them gaped at each other again. “They can read each other’s minds?” Kian asked.
“Yes, and intentionally communicate. It makes our job harder, as we are not able to do that. Not to my knowledge anyway. Many of us do have other talents, special talents, but nothing of that nature.”
“Like what?” Kian inquired.
“We have Healers who can touch a wounded individual and correct the injury. We have Sirens who can use their beguiling skills to influence the action of others. We have Manipulators and Emotional Feelers as well. There are others.”
“Do you have a special talent?” Aaron asked.
Ward smiled. “Yes,” he said, and left it at that.
For some reason, Aaron did not feel the need to ask more. “So, we will continue to go through this… Transformation process?”
“Yes.”
“And then what?” Kian asked.
“It is up to you. You may join us if you like. You could choose to stay here and protect the villagers from evil. You can do nothing at all, but Aaron you must know you are now immortal. The only thing that can kill you is a Hunter. And Kian, a Vampire can kill you, though it will be difficult. That is why you need a Guardian to keep you safe; a Vampire cannot kill a Guardian.”
As Aaron attempted to process what he had just heard—that he could not die except for at the hand of a Hunter—Kian asked, “And how long might I live?”
“It is possible for you to live several hundred years,” Ward explained. “But unlike a Guardian, a Hunter will die eventually, of natural causes, if a Vampire never takes his life.”
There was silence in the room for a moment before Kian slid his chair back. “Well, Mr. Bernard, I appreciate your time and lengthy explanation, but I believe that’s about all I can handle for one day.”
Agreeing, Aaron also pushed is chair back and the pair of them stood. Extending his hand, Aaron said, “Thank you for your time.”
Ward shook Aaron’s hand and then took Kian’s. “Should you have any questions, I will be around. I must tell you, I am off now to try and find some answers for this potato famine.”
“It’s not a famine,” Kian interjected. “It’s only one failed crop.”
Dismissing his comment, Ward continued as if his thought was never interrupted. “What I said in the tavern yesterday I believe to be true. The only way to get the English to truly step in and begin to help the Irish is to convince them that killing off the Irish will only draw the Vampires further into England, not kill the Vampires, too. They will find a food source.”
“Are there no Vampires in England?” Aaron asked.
“Oh, no. They are there. But in England—as in the rest of the world—there is a balance. The Vampires are not allowed to roam unchecked as they are here.”
“And what of our families,” Kian asked, his hand on the door. “Could they go through this Transformation process as well and be saved?”
“Only those below the age of twenty-one. Once they’ve reached that age, there is no going back,” Ward explained. Then, as if reading their minds, he added, “And I’m afraid neither of your wives are members of the Ternion, so there is no way that they can be changed.”
Aaron was disappointed to hear that answer. He was hopeful that he could help Aislyn go through the Transformation process so that he would no longer have to worry about her safety. At least, he was relieved that he could keep her safe for certain now.
“Silver is the key,” Ward offered, as they walked out the door. “Silver and holy water will often end them quickly, although, as you found yesterday, sometimes your bare hands or whatever you can find can also work. Tearing the heads off, obviously, is an injury they cannot recover from.”
Still stunned, both men nodded, and waving goodbye, made their way back the way they had come, wondering what world they had just stepped into.
On their way back home, they heard a commotion coming from one of the nearby houses. A woman was wailing inside while a crowd stood about outside. Thinking they might be able to use their newfound powers to help, Aaron and Kian rushed over. “What’s going on?” Kian asked an older woman
who was standing near the door.
“The widow Smith has just discovered her three girls, feasting on their grandmother in the backyard,” the woman replied in a hushed voice. “It’s too much for the dearie to take.”
Aaron looked at Kian, whose eyes were as large as he imagined his must be. “Three girls?” Kian repeated. “Three little girls with curly red hair, no more than three, five, and eight?”
“Yes, that’s them,” she nodded. “All three of them must’ve been turned last night as their mother slept, and now they’ve disappeared into the woods, just as giggling and happy as could be, blood streamin’ down their chins. Not only is she mournin’ her husband who died last year, but she’s lost her mother, her youngin’s, and now she fears they will return and have a go at her.”
“Poor soul,” Aaron muttered as Kian thanked the woman and they walked away.
“This must’ve been done out of retaliation,” Kian whispered as they made their way back to the road. “Ward said they could read minds. Those two blokes we ran off yesterday must have let the others know the girls had gotten away.”
Aaron nodded. “Perhaps we should go look for them.”
“Look for them?” Kian echoed. “And do what? I don’t know about you, Aaron, but I’m not sure I quite believe everything that Mr. Bernard had to say back there. What if he is wrong and there is no Transformation? What if we were just lucky bastards yesterday? I am not about to go running off into the woods to chase down three little banshees when I’m not sure I am capable of killing any of them.”
He had a point, Aaron was certain of that. And then there was the fact that Aaron couldn’t imagine destroying the three little girls he’d worked so hard to save the day before. “Maybe they’ll run off now and leave the villagers alone.”
“Maybe,” Kian nodded.
“Or maybe, if what Ward said was true, we will continue to feel this power coursing through our blood, and in a day or two we will be able to face them without fear,” Aaron continued.
“Perhaps,” Kian agreed. “I wish I had thought to ask what this Transformation process feels like,” he added. “My legs have been a bit sore today.”
“Mine, too,” Aaron said. “I hope it’s not awfully painful.”
“Surely not,” Kian replied. “He would have told us if it were going to get worse, wouldn’t he?”
“I’d like to think so, but then that Ward seems like a man of many secrets,” Aaron responded.
“True. But I don’t think it will be that painful,” Kian assured him as they continued on their way back to their farms.
Aaron prayed he was right. A little pain he could easily handle, but if this was going to be excruciating, he may as well have just let the Dark Ones have him.
Chapter 5
Killarney, Ireland, 1847
The pain shooting through Aaron’s body was agonizing. Though it tended to radiate through his limbs most of the time, there were moments when his stomach muscles contracted so tightly, he thought he might pass out from the pain. Likewise, he’d had a throbbing headache for the last several weeks, and each time he moved he felt like his cranium might split in half.
The Transformation process had begun nearly three months ago, and though it had started off with just the uncomfortable shooting pains in his limbs and soreness in his muscles, with each passing day it grew more unbearable to the point that he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.
Despite the anguish, he had work to do, and so he pushed through the pain each day from sunup to sundown, getting us much work done on the farm as he could, though he knew he would’ve managed so much more if he’d only been pain free.
Kian was also in severe pain, though it didn’t seem to Aaron that he was suffering quite as much. Early on, his complaints were minimal. Then, a month or more in, he’d spent a few days in bed, much to Shannon’s chagrin. Now, his aches seemed to be lessening, though Aaron was not experiencing that himself. His friend’s symptoms tapering off gave him hope that this would get better for him soon, as well, if he just managed to make it through the worst of it.
Aislyn had no idea what was happening. On the way back from their discussion with Ward, Aaron and Kian had decided not to tell their wives. Since neither of them could Transform, they didn’t see the point. Shannon was likely to make fun of them and blabber all over the village about her husband’s and his friend’s crazy ideas. And if they couldn’t tell Shannon, they couldn’t tell Aislyn because that both seemed unfair and they couldn’t trust Aislyn not to tell Shannon. The pair had become quite close since they were fairly isolated now without a lot of other women to talk to.
Each evening when Aaron came in from the field, Aislyn would have a warm bath drawn for him, which helped with the aches in his muscles. She urged him to go into the village and see a physician or a midwife, but he played it off as if he was just sore and tired from moving too many heavy boulders and digging in the rocky ground. While he could see the concern in her eyes, she let it be. She did her best to take care of him and it was her love that got him through the roughest part.
Finally, nearly four months after he and Kian had destroyed the Vampires, the pain started to subside, and Aaron began to feel like his old self again.
Except for he knew he was not his old self. He was much stronger, much faster. He could run great distances quickly without tiring. Often, he realized he was moving so quickly, he had to consciously slow himself so that Aislyn and others wouldn’t realize something was different. His mind also seemed to work differently. He noticed greater detail in his surroundings. Animals sounded different. He could see further and more clearly. No, he definitely was not the Aaron McReynolds he used to be, but what to do with these newfound skills eluded him. For now, he chose to continue to farm his land, check on his mother and granddad, and love his wife. If he was meant for anything more than that, fate would have to intervene.
The little girls were now part of the gang of Vampires that struck the village each night, and whenever Aaron traveled into town, he heard stories of their merciless slaughters. Their mother had been right to fear them; they returned that very night for her, but rather than claim her as their own, they were greedy and took too much. A neighbor discovered her body the next morning.
Ward’s trip was taking longer than Aaron anticipated. He had several questions now he wished to ask the other Guardian, but without his presence, he wasn’t sure where to turn for assistance. He’d mentioned there were others who might be able to help, but Aaron didn’t know who they were, and if they were truly aware of his existence the way Ward had alluded to, then they should be approaching him—but they weren’t. Nor were they doing anything to destroy the girls.
Kian was also more distant. They often traveled to town together and spoke briefly while working in their plots, but the secret they held had strained their relationship, and while he still considered Kian his best friend in the world—next to Aislyn—things had certainly changed. Anytime he mentioned to Kian his concern over the children, he quickly changed the subject. Clearly, he still did not want to consider hunting them down. Aaron felt that, since Kian was the Hunter, he should be the one to initiate such activity, and he would go along to keep him safe. He wasn’t sure why he felt that way, but it seemed to be part of this new intuition he had, and so he was willing to accept it.
For the last few weeks, Kian had mentioned that Shannon was not feeling well, that she was acting odd. The two of them still were not getting along all that well, and Aaron dismissed much of what he said, assuming it was just Kian deciding his wife was sick instead of angry. However, when he showed up one fall afternoon saying that she was so ill she couldn’t get out of bed, Aaron became genuinely concerned, and Kian called for the midwife.
Aaron knew that not all people who were taken changed over night; sometimes it took weeks or months for them to indicate to family members that something wasn’t right. Sometimes they even managed to fool those they lived with for a time before th
eir new disturbing nature revealed itself. While Aaron feared that Shannon may have been infected, Kian nursed her, and Aaron kept a close eye on Aislyn, hoping she had not spent much time with Shannon recently.
A few days later, Aaron returned home to find Aislyn on her knees, retching into a bucket. Running to her, he dropped down next to her, pulling lose strands of her red hair back out of the way. “Are you all right?” he asked once she had finished and began to steady herself.
“I’m fine,” she assured him, managing a smile.
He rushed to bring her water and a towel to wipe her mouth. Once he helped her up and over to the bed, where she insisted on sitting instead of lying down, he took care of the bucket and ran back to her side. “Aislyn, do you have fever?” he asked, feeling her forehead. “When did you start feeling ill?”
“A few weeks ago,” she replied, but she was still smiling, and though he had no idea what there was to be happy about, he took a deep breath and let her continue. “Aaron, I’m not ill,” she assured him, placing her thin hand on his knee.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “You were vomiting.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve been vomiting for a few weeks, but then it’s usually in the morning. Sometimes, like today, it hits later. I’m fine.”
“Aislyn, if you’ve been throwing up for weeks, something is wrong. We need to get you to a physician.”
“I told you I’m not ill, Aaron. I’m certain of it. I went to town last week and spoke to my mother. I’m just fine.”
“What does your mother know of this type of illness?” he asked, brushing her hair back over her shoulder where it had attached to her clammy skin.
