Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins

by Margeaux Laurent

  I stirred and tried to sit up, but she placed a strong hand on my chest and forced me to remain in bed.

  “You are weak. Do not move until you have regained your strength.” She walked away for a moment and I turned on my pillow to face the window. The thick, red, curtains that hung from my four-poster canopy bed blocked my view, and I could only see a sliver of the glass. It was dark outside.

  “Is Abigail still here?” I asked in a feeble voice.

  “Abigail left yesterday when she and Zachariah dropped you off.”

  My mind was spinning. I had slept for almost a day and a half. What had happened? I closed my eyes and images passed through my mind. The man on the ship, the handsome young man who pulled me out of the spell, him carrying me to the carriage—then all went blank.

  I placed a hand on my head and groaned. My head still hurt but nothing like it had the day before. Then I heard the stranger’s voice saying my name and I sat straight up in bed.

  My mother turned with a start, “Will you tell me what happened now?” she asked quietly.

  She climbed onto my bed and sat by my side, wiping my head with the wet cloth and crushing herbs under my nose for me to breathe in. I told her all that I could remember of the day before and I watched her expressions carefully as I explained each detail. Of all the events that had transpired in the past two days, from the man on the ship and the sickness I felt when his eyes met mine, the look on my mother’s face when I retold the tale scared me the most.

  “I do not know who the man is Aislin, but what he did to you was dark magic. I had thought that perhaps Zachariah had done something to you… had hurt you in some way. Now that I know this is a spell I need to mix a new potion.” She stood up and started grabbing different herbs. She placed oil on my head and put a cross around my neck. “You will feel better soon. Now sleep,” she said, and my eyelids became heavy and I fell fast asleep.

  ********************

  I stood in a crowd of people who were screaming and yelling. Yet, for some reason, I did not understand what was happening. I looked around me to gain my bearings but I was in an unknown land, surrounded by tall mountains and situated in a deep green valley. There was a thick mist surrounding where we stood. The air was humid, but yet strangely cold. I looked up to find a dark grey sky holding the threat of rain in its ominous pewter coloration.

  Everything moved slowly, as though time had ceased for me. Some of the people were holding torches, others bibles. In the back of the crowd, some stood with somber faces, while others looked enraged. I heard the sound of footsteps on wooden planks and looked directly ahead. There stood a small woman, frail and dressed in rags. On either side of her were men, one small and nervous, and the other tall, broad and dressed in all black. The tall man had his hair pulled back into a ponytail, his grey and pewter mane matching the sky. He looked at me and sneered. It was the man from the ship. I felt my heart stop beating and followed his eyes as they landed mercilessly towards the fragile female that was in the beast’s grasp. He clamped a hand upon her neck and pushed her harshly backwards toward a tall wooden beam, where he tied her up with rope. The crowd cheered and laughed as the woman was bound to the poll. The other man busied himself with stacking hay around the beam, taking great care that the hay was evenly distributed on all sides.

  I finally comprehended what was happening and had to stop it. I looked around for help but was aware that I would receive none. I looked up and caught the woman’s eyes; she smiled at me and laughed. Perhaps they had driven her to madness, or perhaps it was simply the Goddess’ mercy that she had left her senses. I heard someone quote the bible, reciting, “None shall suffer a witch to live.”

  The man from the ship stood in front of the bound woman on the platform of wood for all to see, “Today, Janet Horrne has been convicted of the treachery of witchcraft. Such crimes are punishable by death.”

  I heard her laughing behind him as though she knew something that he did not, but she never spoke a word. Then I smelt the burning of the hay followed by the stench of burning flesh. The cries of pain from the woman broke through the thick mist, but her voice was soon drowned out by the taunting of the bloodthirsty crowd. I was horrified by the evil nature of the people that surrounded me.

  I went to turn and run, but I was stopped by a booming voice, “There is another witch amongst us,” the man from the ship yelled as he pointed at… ME? My eyes widened. The onlookers started surrounding me and I could feel the heat of the torches on my skin as they closed in. I stood frozen with fear as his spell started working on me again. I felt paralyzed and powerless against him.

  “Bring her to me,” the leader ordered as he jumped off the platform, away from the great flames that shot up into the dark sky. The woman had stopped screaming now. In the back of my mind, I assumed she was dead. Taken hopefully by the smoke and not the flames, but I did not know. I could hear his heavy boots crunching on the pebbles and earth below his feet as the crowed parted to let him reach me without interference.

  “You escaped me once Aislin. It won’t happen again,” he said when he was merely meters away. I looked around, determined to escape, but I found nowhere to flee. Then I heard a voice strong and forceful in my right ear.

  “Aislin you must wake up! Break the spell, wake up!” he screamed at me.

  I sat straight up in bed, sweat covered my entire body and my heart was beating as though it would explode. I rubbed my eyes and sat in silence, encircled by the darkness of early morning. It was my protector, the stranger who saved me at the port had saved me again, but how I did not know. The other man, the Grey Man, was still after me and he had found a way to invade my dreams. I had nowhere to hide anymore.

  I wrapped my quilt around me and walked over to the window, staring out into the darkness. I saw nothing. I half expected to see the Grey Man staring up at me, ready to finally finish me, but my eyes were greeted with the dimness of the last moments before dawn.

  As I was turning from the window to dress for the day, I noticed something catch the light of my candle. I looked on the ledge of my windowsill and saw something lying outside the glass. I slowly opened the pane and reached carefully through the little crack.

  My hand landed on an object, small and soft. I pulled it in and shut the window tight. I held the item to the light of the candle. It was the garnet necklace, on the silk cord, that I had been holding at the port.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  October 23rd 1734

  My mother and I spent the entire day placing protection charms around the house, my father’s shop, the stable and all our animals. We then spent the remainder of the evening looking through the book in search of answers for what I had encountered. We established that a dark spell had been used against me and that its conjurer was a powerful wizard, but we could not find a motive for such an act. We found numerous creatures that possessed the ability to move with great speed and possessed great strength but none in the shape of a man and none that could walk in the light of day. Why had I been targeted and who was this Grey Man?

  By the time my father came home, we were both exhausted and my mother barely got the floorboard in the kitchen back in place before he walked into the room.

  My father looked fatigued. Deep lines and dark circles rimmed his tired, bright blue eyes and his graying hair was messy from a long day’s work. He walked over and kissed me on my forehead, “Are you feeling better?” He was a man of medium build, but his long hours spent hunched over the parchment made him slump slightly forward, giving him the appearance of being much shorter than he actually was.

  “Aye,” I replied while smiling up at him.

  I could see great concern in his tired eyes and I felt his anxiety as though it was my own. Then again, I had many reasons to feel anxious.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  October 25th 1734

  Mid morning

  I was home alone. Mother had gone to the port to buy the fabric that I did not have time to get when Abigail and I had
gone before. The house was quiet and she had left me to continue my search through the book. My cat lay curled up around my feet as I sat in the chair near the window of the sitting room flipping through the pages and trying to connect numerous spells and listings.

  The book appeared small when you first looked at it, but it was heavy to hold and the pages went on much further than a book of its size should. I found things in it that I had not noticed before, listings of monsters, demons, creatures and faeries. I read about the werewolf. A man who could turn into a wolf on the full moon nights and prowl the countryside for human flesh, turning those that it did not kill into its own kinsman. Surely, that was not what my protector was. I read about woodland folk who lived under the hills of Ireland. The faeries, which would play tricks on those they did not like but were loyal to those they admired; witches. On and on I read, but the answers never came to my pressing questions. My mother said the book would reveal the answers when I was ready to receive them, and perhaps that time had not yet arrived. I reached down to my dress pocket and held the little silk pouch that was tucked inside. It was full of herbs and salts that I was to keep with me at all times. These items had been blessed, and would help to keep me safe.

  I placed the book down and went to the back door, hoping that a stroll in the yard would clear my mind and allow me to have some solace. My cat, Sneachta, followed me outside. She was ready to hunt.

  I sat on a bench near the garden and watched as the pure white cat tiptoed about, sticking out against the darkness of the fall leaves and barren ground. She walked around and flicked her paw at the leaves, turning them over to inspect what may lie underneath them. I was surprised that she had not left the yard. Normally, she would have gone into the woods behind the house by now. Yet, she stayed close to me and every once in a while turned to look in my direction.

  I had brought out some embroidery that I was working on. It was a pattern of holly berries and ivy leaves. My mother had plans to inlay the holly and ivy into the bodice of my dress for the Governor’s Ball. I had no idea why I was working on this ridiculous task. I had no interest in going to the Ball and was only doing so to please my father and retain his good standing in the town. No one mentioned it, but everyone knew that the Ball was where good matches were made between the parents of young women and potential suitors.

  There was no one I was interested in being courting by—well, perhaps there was one man. I reached up and touched the garnet stone that sat close to the base of my neck and I found my mind drifting back to my protector again.

  My mind stole away to the moments we spent in the shop together. I was so frazzled at the time that I did not pay attention to details, but my memory had preserved those moments and I now reflected upon them.

  He was tall and had broad shoulders, with sculpted muscles in his back and arms. My mysterious protector resembled a highly trained soldier; he looked rather athletic and strong. He was dressed well, but did not wear all the adornments that the other men of the town did. He wore no lace, nor floral patterns of shiny silk. His clothes were of fine quality, but they were very plain. It was odd to see such a man dressed so conservatively, although as my mind’s eye settled on his features, I realized that he was so staggeringly handsome that he did not require all the adornments that other men used to enhance their looks. His hair was cut short compared to the townsmen. It was dark and wavy, with an occasional curl that hung into his eyes, and he had soft, full, lips. His face was burned into my memory, but my mind focused on his eyes. It was not the coloration of his eyes that was so beguiling—although they were quite beautiful. It was the way that his eyes reached mine. There was something in the way he looked at me, as though he had always known me—as though we were connected. Even his voice was strangely familiar to me. It called to me and it resonated long after his last words were spoken.

  A sharp pain caught my attention and I dropped the embroidery hoop onto my lap. I looked down to find blood trickling down my index finger. I must have pricked myself when I was deep in the thoughts of my mysterious guardian. I then heard Sneachta, growling deep and low, although I could not locate her with my eyes. I heard something rustling in the woods beyond the borderline of the yard. I instinctually reached for my protective herbs, dripping blood all over my dress as I did so. I stood, not knowing if I should run or if Sneachta was the one who was in trouble and needed me.

  Then I saw the most curious of things. Sneachta was making her way toward me by walking backwards, hissing and spitting in the direction of the woods as she retreated. I slowly started making my way to the door, remembering my father telling me that when you ran from a predator it only encouraged it to chase. I tried my hardest not to show fear. I could not see anything in the woods but I could hear the movement of something large. I could hear my cat’s warnings as we both were withdrawing to the threshold of the doorway.

  I had gotten the pouch out of my pocket by this time and stood in the doorway, waiting for my cat to get to me before I drew a line on the threshold of the herbs and salt as my mother had instructed before she left. Sneachta was close now—almost to me. I held the herbs tightly in my hand. Trust in the magic, I told myself as I caught my mind wondering if this really would be enough to stop whatever was causing my faithful cat to defend her territory with such ferocity.

  Within a moment that seemed to take an eternity, Sneachta leaped passed the threshold into the house. I quickly drew the line at the base of the doorway and slammed it shut. As I did so, something slammed back against it so hard the hinges threatened to give way. I heard a scream of anguish and smelled burnt flesh. I leaned with all my might against the door but then Sneachta stepped between the doorway and me. I looked at her and she looked toward the front of the house. We raced together, knocking over chairs and books as we scrambled to place more of the magical mixture at that precipice as well. We reached the door just in time to hear something pulling at the doorknob. When I placed the mixture down, I heard another cry. This time it was not as loud. Whatever this was knew not to draw attention to itself in the open street.

  I ran to the closest window and began to line the sill with the herbs. The windowpanes rattled with great force, and I looked up to see four long claw marks deeply etched into the vibrating glass. I let out a shriek of terror but then Sneachta yowled and snapped me out of my frozen stupor. I quickly moved to every window and drew a protective line and finally we heard nothing but my pounding heart.

  Sneachta sat next to the book and I knew I was supposed to pick it up. We sat in the middle of the room, alone. I was trembling and Sneachta was licking at the blood that still ran down my finger trying to clean it as best she could.

  I opened the book and for the very first time in my life, I cast a spell. My mother had encouraged me never to use magic unless it was of extreme importance.

  “Every spell cast is another opportunity for our secrets to come to the surface,” she warned.

  I had no choice. Sneachta gave me a look of approval as the book opened to the spell that I was to use. I grabbed the candle that sat on the table and ran over to the hearth to light it; then I recited the spell aloud. The candle’s flame flickered and sparked as the magic ran through it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  October 25th 1734

  Late afternoon

  My mother walked into the house and found Sneachta and I in the same spot. I was now reading Robinson Crusoe and she was fast asleep. My mother’s eyes were wide. She nearly dropped the bundles of fabric, lace and embellishments that were carefully stacked in her arms.

  “What happened here?” she demanded, “I can feel the magic in this room.”

  I ran passed her and slammed the door shut, locking it and replacing the scattered herbs and salts. I took some of the items out of her arms and placed them on a side table.

  “I do not know what really happened but I had to use a protection spell to get the thing to leave.”

  My mother walked to where the book lay open on the floor,
she picked it up and examined the spell, her eyes grew wide and her skin turned pale. “How did you come about this spell?” she whispered.

  “The book fell open to it… I was panicked and thought it would help. You always said that the book reveals things when you are ready or in need,” I said.

  “Aye, that I did,” she placed the book down again and seated herself in the closest chair. She rested her head in her hands and looked down. “Aislin, did you read the title of that spell before you cast it?”

  “No… well, I… I saw that it said protection and I knew the book opened to it, so I trusted it.”

  “Look at the title Aislin.”

  I walked over to the book and stared down at the ancient page. I read its deep green lettering written in an elegant script. The words swept away any peace I might have felt.

  To Banish a Puca

  I flipped through some pages until I came across the description of the Puca and read on.

  The creature is a shape shifter, a demon, faithful only to the human of its choosing. It is deadly to those it is sent after. All of its forms are unknown, but it is said to commonly take the shape of a horse with red eyes, a black goat, or sometimes appear invisible. It is believed that its actual form includes standing on two legs, having talons like an eagle, eyes as red as searing coals and skin the color of palest grey.

  My mind raced as I closed the book. I turned to find my mother deep in thought. She was biting at her thumbnail and rocking back and forth.

  “Did I destroy it with the spell?” I asked frantically.