“No, these things cannot be destroyed… you merely repelled it.”
She never looked up at me. I wondered if casting this spell had been a mistake—maybe it would have gone away on its own.
“Did I make things worse?”
Her blue eyes pierced into mine, somehow calming me, “No, you did exactly the right thing. We will have to do more though.”
“It is not common for the Puca to attack in the day,” she said. “When did you first hear it?”
I thought back to where I was sitting and what I was thinking about—then I remembered. “I was sitting outside embroidering the holly and ivy for my dress. I pricked my finger and was bleeding when Sneachta started growling.”
My mother looked over at the white cat who stared back at her, “Thank you,” she said to the cat, which meowed in reply. “The Puca must have been driven by the smell of your blood and so it attacked. My guess is that its master wanted it to watch you until it could carry you off to him. Pucas often kidnap their victims and ride them off into the faerie realm.”
“What are we to do?”
My mother shook her head, “I have never dealt with things such as this. We need help.”
“Is there anyone who can help us?”
“Perhaps.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
October 30th 1734
Day Break
I washed my face with cool water that sat in a basin on my nightstand. Downstairs I could hear the sound of my mother talking to someone, although I did not know who it was.
I had been trapped in the house ever since the ordeal with the unknown creature. That was five days ago now. I rushed quickly to meet whomever my mother was talking to, simply for the experience of seeing another face and hearing a new voice. As I entered the kitchen, my mother waved me over. She was sitting at the table next to Martha, my mother’s very dear friend and the closest person to a Grandmother I ever had. I walked into the room and sat down across from them.
“Good morning,” I said, as I waved at Martha. I would have smiled but I was too tired. I had not slept in days. The fear that the creature would return for me was too great. Even Sneachta did not linger outside for long. Most of the time she stayed within eye contact of the house and when she was inside, she was always next to me.
Martha smiled warmly “Hello, dear child. I hear that you have been having some problems lately.”
She reached across the table to hold my hands. She flipped them over and studied my palms. “Well, you have a long life line, so that is a good sign,” she said. As Martha studied my palms, I in turn studied her face. She was tired but she had a joy about her. Her soft features and heart-shaped face reflected the kindness of her very soul. Her ebony skin was smooth, and the only hint of Martha’s age came from the silver strands that were woven through her raven colored hair.
“You tell me your tale… from your words,” she said. Her Caribbean accent added a dramatic effect when she spoke. Her rich auburn eyes blazed in the morning light, as she listened to my every word.
I reached over and poured Martha more tea, her cup was almost empty. Then I filled my mother’s and then I poured mine. Martha was like a grandmother to me. She had always been in my life, but she still seemed surprised when I would serve her the same way I served my mother. I saw no reason to treat Martha differently. I loved her.
I told Martha all of my account. Describing every detail that I could remember and she listened quietly, never speaking until I had finished.
“It was an Abiku, an evil spirit,” she said with a solemn expression on her face. “You must be very powerful to have banished it away from you.”
“Did mother show you the description in our book?” I asked through a yawn.
Although I was told to never talk of the book with anyone, Martha was the exception. She knew all our secrets.
“I showed the page to Martha before you awoke,” my mother nodded.
“I will bring you a blessed bell to keep on you. My traditions tell of it fleeing once the bell is wrung,” Martha interjected.
“Will I ever be able to go outside again?” I asked with a pleading tone to my voice.
My mother and Martha both laughed together. Martha patted my hand. Her touch soothed my racing mind. “Yes dear girl, you will leave the house again. Your mama and I have been casting spells while you slept and we have sewed talisman into every item of your clothing. But I must say, that necklace you are wearing has a very powerful protection charm attached to it.”
I reached up and touched the necklace, surprised by her words. “I did not charm it.”
Martha smiled, “No, but the person who gave it to you feels protective of you. I dare say that his desire to protect you has caused the charm. You will learn in time that love is the most powerful magic we have.” She stood slowly, as one who was worn down would.
I gave her a strong hug and Martha kissed my cheek, “You are as dear to me as my own grandchildren are. I will do all I can to help you.”
She and my mother then left me alone in the kitchen. I started cleaning off the table, my mind drifted to my mother and of how she and Martha became friends.
********************
I was fourteen years old, just weeks passed my Awakening, and was helping my mother dress for a Ball. Her shoulders were bare and when I pulled her hair off her neck, I noticed a long thread-like scar that went down my mothers back. I started to trace it with my hand but she jerked away instinctually.
“What is that Mother?” I asked innocently.
My mother grimaced at my question but did not back down from it. “I will tell you, but it must remain between us. Can you do that Aislin?”
“Yes,” I said wide eyed, for this was the second secret my mother had ever asked me to keep. After she looked quizzically into my eyes, she began:
“When I was thirteen years old I lived on the Isle with my family; my four brothers, my mother and my father. We had a simple life. We tilled the land and farmed. It was laboring work but we loved each other and were happy. I was growing in my spiritual gifts. I was considered a young priestess and was in training. It was secret of course. We were otherwise considered Catholic, but we also kept to the ancient ways and saw a marriage between the two beliefs.
“Then one night as I was scrying, I had a horrible vision. I saw men coming with torches and weapons. I saw them taking me from our cottage and burning it to the ground. I told my parents of my vision and begged them to leave the village, to hide us, but we were poor and had nowhere to go. So, I kept the book roped onto my waist and I dressed in as many layers of clothing as I could. If they were to come, I did not want to freeze on the back of a wagon—although I pleaded to the Holy Mother that they would not come at all.
“A few nights later they arrived in our village. I knew the British were amongst us far before they entered our home. I could hear children crying in my mind. I could hear their parents screaming, men dying, and women pleading… but they were merciless. They despised us and treated us as such.
“I lay in my bed, waiting, not wanting them to know that I was ready for them lest they search my clothing and find the book. The book made itself so small that it was almost flush with my skin, often I would touch my hand to my side to check that it was still there. Six men broke into the cottage and killed my father right away. They then beat my brothers until they could not move and bound my mother. I thought of trying to escape, but I knew it was a useless endeavor. If they did not catch me now, they would just do it later, and punishment for running would be harsh. I waited until they saw me. They grabbed me ruthlessly. They handled me in ways that they had no right to and then they threw me, and my remaining family onto a cart with the rest of those that were still alive.
“We rode through the night. No food offered, no water provided. They raided town after town until finally we reached the shore. There we were tied to one another and driven like cattle onto a ship. They made sure to split us up. No families were permi
tted to be together. That would have shown a sense of humanity and these men, these slavers, had none.
“From that point, I never saw my family again. I was moved to another ship where I was placed with other Irish slaves in the bowels of the vessel. It was dark and cold. People moaned… many were ill and all were terrified. We were provided no place to relieve ourselves and the prison in which we were kept was so foul that any movement of air made the inhabitants retch from the stench. We were packed tightly together. Some did not even have a place to sit, so we leaned on each other. Some took out their fear and anger on those around them, some simply wept, others prayed.
“Weeks later, we were pushed off the boat. Many did not survive the journey and their bodies were simply tossed over the side of the ship without reservation. We were in Barbados, a major center for slave traders. We were then placed with other slaves in a large holding area. These people were unlike anything we had ever seen before. Their skin was dark and their language unusual. We were all crammed together and we soon learned that to help one another was to survive. That is where I met Martha. She was like a mother to me. She sensed the magic within me and brought me close to her so she could protect me from the many dangers that were ever-present.
“Martha spoke little English, but I taught her as best I could, although I was much better at speaking in Irish. We shared our magic and healed as many as we could, but we had no supplies and could not leave the dark cell in which we were held.
“I kept my head down and did my best to never be seen by the guards or slave traders. I did not want to suffer the fate of being sold to a brothel or be raped by the drunken devils who prowled outside our cells. Many times the guards would become bored and find great pleasure in whipping, beating and spitting upon us. Martha and I did invisibility charms to make our presence almost unnoticed and we continued to help as many as we could.
“Finally the charm wore and guards burst into the cell, pulling me and many young women out by our hair. Martha reached for me but was struck in the face and fell back. I thought I would never see her again and cried as they dragged me out of the underground pit and into the blinding sunlight.
“The fresh air made me realize how badly I smelled… how badly we all smelled. I breathed it in deeply as we were pushed and shoved and cursed at. The fresh air was not to last. We were herded up a ship ramp and once again plunged into the darkness of the bowels of the vessel. The slave driver hissed at me as he locked the cage we were crammed into and told us that we were heading to the Colonies to be sold. He ridiculed us and filled our minds with horrible notions of what was to come.
“I spent many days and nights filled with terror until I finally remembered Martha’s words, ‘Look to the magic, it will guide you.’ I searched the ship’s floor until I found a small puddle of seawater. I stared into it with great focus and I saw a vision of my future. I saw you Aislin and your father… I saw hope and it sustained me.
“When the journey finally ended, we where once again viscously treated and pulled out of our cage… dragged into the painful sunlight, onto the port and then placed in a line where people gathered around. The ship’s captain started taking bids and selling off the girls. People were pointing, picking and choosing as they would for fabric or tea.
“As I walked close to the platform, behind the line of the other girls I cast my gaze up to where a bidding war was underway. On the stage was the slave trader, holding a woman by the arm while wealthy patrons haggled over her. When the trader moved forward to take the patrons money I saw the slave… it was Martha. We had been on the same ship the whole time and I knew deep in my heart that I would see her again.
“I kept my gaze down but then I felt a hand grab my arm harshly and thrust me to the ground. The slave trader pulled at my hair, opened my mouth, looked at my teeth, and surveyed me. Then he announced a price and the interested party agreed willingly. I was sold.
“The young man took me gently away from the port, away from the noise and to an inn. I thought that I would be raped and left to die or to live as a personal whore. To my surprise, he requested that I bathe and he left the room. The water felt wonderful on my skin. I had not washed for months. I scrubbed my skin as though I could wash away the memories of all that I had seen. I then found oil to rub on my skin and I also rubbed it gently on the book.
“When the man came back into the room, I jumped and hid behind the bed with my old clothes draped in front of me. He apologized in a gentle way… a way in which I had not been spoken to by a man since I had been taken from my home. He then placed a new dress on the bed for me along with a silver brush and he retreated out of the room. I slowly crept onto the bed and examined the items. They were of fine fabric and the hairbrush was bright silver. These were not items that you would give to a slave.
“When I had dressed he knocked on the door and entered after I let him know that it was alright. He told me that he did not want to own me. He explained that he had never owned a slave and that the only reason he had purchased me was that when he walked by the platform, he felt drawn to me. He nervously laughed when he explained that a street fortuneteller had grabbed his arm the day before and told him to look for the girl with crimson hair. Then his eyes welled with tears as he explained that seeing me on the platform filled his heart with so much love that he felt obligated to save me. He told me that he wanted to make me his wife, but if I did not want to take his hand in marriage, I was free to leave with the new clothes he had purchased for me. Indeed my prayers to the Holy Mother had not gone unanswered.
“I told him that I would not leave him and I did not. This was the man I had seen in my vision and I knew we were destined for one another. The man was your father Aislin, and I was the slave that he rescued.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
October 30th 1734
Afternoon
Martha had brought me a little bell that I now carried in my pocket along with the salt, a few amulets and a cross. I barely had room to carry normal things in my pocket anymore, but I was glad to have all the magical possessions with me.
Abigail had stopped by early in the day and my mother agreed that I could sit in front of the house and visit with her. It felt good to have the sunlight on my face. Abigail was in a joyful mood and kept looking at me with searching eyes.
“I am glad that you are feeling better. I have missed spending time with you,” she said, as she reached down to pet Sneachta.
“I am feeling fine. It is good to see you too,” I replied while staring down the street, still a little anxious to be out in the open. This was the first time I was permitted to walk outside since the incident with the creature.
“What was wrong?” she asked.
“I do not know… perhaps fatigue.” I knew that was not a good excuse. I also knew that Abigail was very gullible, and convincing her of this half-truth would be easy.
“Have you missed Zachariah?” she asked hopefully.
I flinched at her question. “I have not been in the frame of mind to miss anyone,” I replied as truthfully as I could without hurting her feelings.
Abigail looked at me shrewdly and slapped my arm with her hand, “I have news,” she whispered excitedly.
I raised an eyebrow and waited, guessing that Jack glanced in her direction in the past few days or that she had finally mustered up the courage to speak to him. I looked at her patiently and waited for her story but she was dragging out the silence for effect, looking in all direction as though someone would be interested in our conversation. Finally, when she saw that my interest was waning, she set the theatrics aside and said her piece.
“Zachariah is coming to talk to your father!” she squealed.
“About what?”
Abigail now seemed rather frustrated that her great theatrics had been wasted on my naïveté. She rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her hip. “Aislin you silly girl, he is coming to negotiate for your hand in marriage.”
A sense of anxiety and nausea flooded o
ver me. This could not be. Her mother would never allow it!
“You are mistaken,” I said, as confidently as I could, “Your mother would not stand for Zachariah to court me, nor marry me.”
Abigail took my hand in hers and flapped it around in her great excitement. “Father told her that he does not care what she thinks. Our father finds you to be a good match for Zachariah, and that is all that matters. Now we will truly be sisters.” Her smile kept me from snapping at her, but I could abide this no longer.
Then I saw Zachariah, peeking his head around the corner of my front yard and leaning on the gate. I was angered by his audacity. How dare he assume that I would be interested in marrying him, the stupid brute!
He sauntered forward, took off his traveling hat, and ran his hand through his greasy blonde hair. I stiffened at his presence, and he twisted his mouth into a forced smile. He had learned that particular smile from his Politian father, who used it often when he dealt with the commoners.
His father was the Mayor of our town and used his position of power to increase his wealth, with complete disregard of those who got in his way. Just like his father, Zachariah looked down upon everyone around him. Thankfully, Abigail seemed to have been spared her family’s trait of ruthlessness, but her brother was power hungry, cold-hearted, and looked to his father to handle of all his problems. He was like his father in so many, many ways, except that he was still rather slight in build. For Zachariah, his delicate build always worked to his advantage. Although he appeared rather frail, many of the men of Burlington quickly learned that his wicked demeanor and ferocious temperament made him a formidable opponent. Although I found him to be far less than attractive, what I found most appalling about the boy was his brutal nature, another trait that he had inherited from his family.
It did not take much consideration for me to reach the conclusion that I would not marry this silly little boy, no matter what the consequence.
Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins Page 4
