Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins

by Margeaux Laurent

  The floor was stone, as were the walls. Fur hides were thrown on the floor near the fireside where two chairs faced an empty hearth. In the far corner was a large bed with more fur thrown on it. I walked over to it and remembered it from my vision. I spun around and stared into the far left corner of the room, expecting the Grey Man to appear there at any moment.

  “We are safe Aislin.” He followed my gaze to the corner, “I am amazed that you can remember that,” his voice choked a little.

  “I had a vision of this place on Samhain,” I said, almost in a trance like state.

  “Do you remember much of it?” Greer asked tentatively.

  I shook my head, “It was a short vision, but I remember him . . . killing me.”

  Greer wrapped his arms tightly around me, “That was the worst day of my life,” he said sadly, “I never thought I would see you again.”

  “So, that was the past? That already happened?” I felt my throat constrict with fear.

  Greer nodded and looked down at me, “Yes, my love. You saw into our past.”

  “Why did he take me from you?”

  “He is a witch hunter. We did not know that he had been tracking you until that night. To this day, I do not know if he had hunted you for sport, or if he was hired to do so. All I know is that he waited for the moment when killing you would have the most impact and inflict the most pain.”

  I looked up to see a single tear trickle down his cheek. I wiped it away and he kissed my hand as it passed by his lips.

  “What happened after I . . . ?” I trailed off. Speaking of one's own death was eerie and rather difficult.

  Greer sat down on the bed and pulled me onto his lap.

  “It was our wedding night. We had been married for only three hours when he took you from me. After, I tried to hunt him, to track him down, but he disappeared as though he was a ghost. It took a long while for my recovery to come and though I was able to function, I was filled with emptiness that only you had the ability to fill. He took everything from me that night. My heart became bitter as my grief turned into rage. Malice grew in that place of emptiness and I sought after any method I could find to kill the man who destroyed our lives.

  Few knew of him, but after searching from town to town, I realized that he hunted witches. Families who had lost loved ones told me of their experience with him. It was always the same tale . . . he showed up like a specter and disappeared without a trace, once his victims were murdered.

  Sometimes he captured the witches and they were publicly executed, sometimes it was a quieter act. A poisoning, strangling . . . a single shot. I knew that he was not a normal human. He had powers of some kind that I could not match. For years, I tracked him and studied him. He had moved to London and as a disguise, I went to University there.

  I became an astronomy student and was able to follow Lamont in the evening after my nightly lectures were over. He was illusive and I became frustrated. I did not know how to catch him or if I ever would be able to. I had no idea of how to destroy him.” Greer looked away for a moment, as though the memories were too strong to face.

  “Please continue. I need to know,” I asked softly, as I twisted a strand of his hair around my finger.

  He nodded and started his tale again. “I had heard other students talking about one of the astronomy teachers in hushed tones. His name was Tobias Hunt, and rumors circulated that he was a monster of some kind. At first, I laughed at such ridiculous ideas, but as time dragged on, I became disparate. They spoke of the teacher with fear and said that he was an astronomy professor because he could not be out in the daylight. I dismissed the students' claims, but my hatred towards Lamont was paramount.

  “I watched those around me find love and marry and I was alone, without you. It drove me almost to madness and I became desperate for revenge. One night, after our observations were completed, I stayed behind as my peers left to live their lives. I confronted Professor Hunt about the students' claims and confessed that I had been following him for weeks. I told him that I had documented many accounts of him hunting stray animals and the occasional house pet that was left outside. Of course, he accused me of madness, but I explained why I had come to him and I begged him for help. He threatened to have me expelled from school, but he never followed through with his threats and after many months of my prodding, he relented.

  “He confided in me that he understood my anguish because he had lost his mother and sister to a witch hunter, and he agreed to help me. He warned me that the consequences of my request were great, that I would be destined to live a life of eternity alone. I was so consumed with hatred that I did not hesitate in convincing him that I was prepared for such a fate, that I was living without hope of love or happiness already.

  “Finally, one night after class I was taken, blindfolded, to a location where my teacher and his peers could perform the ceremony . . . where I was to be inducted as one of their kind. The counsel was against the idea of bringing me into their fold and it took much convincing on the part of my teacher, but he prevailed.

  The ceremony was performed by the head of their counsel. I remained blindfolded throughout the ritual and never saw him, but I heard his voice speaking low in an unusual accent. He spoke words over me in an ancient tongue. He asked me to swear that I was prepared for the life I was requesting. My teacher had warned me ahead of time that if I waivered, if I showed even the slightest bit of hesitation when the leader asked me this question, that I would not be turned into one of them. Instead, I would be killed for knowing too much. Therefore, I did all I could to show true commitment to my decision.

  “The leader found my answer worthy and then he handed me a bottle of strong liquor and told me to drink it all. Numbness and sleep overtook me, and dulled the sensations as he drained me of all my blood. I felt life being pulled out of my body and I did not know if I could tolerate it any further, but Professor Hunt kept saying your name Aislin. Over and over again, he repeated your name and you gave me strength. All my thoughts fell to you and I did not die. I was given blood to drink, the blood of the man who performed the ceremony and after a time I grew strong.”

  “You are like Dearg-dul,” I barely whispered.

  “Aye, I am indeed,” his eyes were cast downward.

  “How did you find me?” I asked.

  He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand and looked upon me with pure love, “I found you only because I was meant to. I thought that I had lost you forever. I was hunting Lamont and had followed him across the ocean. He was coming to the New World and I found a way to take passage on the same ship.”

  “How did you recognize me…when you saw me at the port?”

  He stood from the bed and walked away from me, heading towards the wall closest to us. He pulled a large blanket off a painting that was hung high. The cream-colored cloth rippled and fell to the ground. I looked up and saw a picture of a woman in a long white dress, her hair was dark, her eyes both blue and yet silver. She had on a dark red jeweled necklace—my necklace. She and I were identical. I was looking at a portrait of myself.

  “How old is this painting?” I gasped.

  “Nearly two hundred years,” he said reminiscently, “You were the most breathtaking bride and that day was the happiest I could remember being. That is until I saw you standing on the port holding the same necklace that you wore in that painting.”

  “How did I come to find the same piece of jewelry?” I asked in bewilderment.

  Greer smiled, “You are full of magic Aislin. Our souls must have been reaching out for each other all this time. It does not surprise me that my wedding gift found its way back to you.”

  I reached up and touched my necklace, my eyes still transfixed upon the painting. “I heard the story of Dearg-dul today. I understand why you choose that life. I would have done the same thing.”

  “I would never want this for you Aislin,” Greer said sternly, “This is not a pleasant existence. I always struggle not to attack th
e humans that surround me. I live off of animals and I hide for the fear of being discovered.”

  “It was you? You were the one who killed all the Marthaler's live stock?” I felt my eyes grow wide as I gazed at him.

  “It was my way of enacting revenge. I would do a lot more than that if it would not endanger my ability to protect you,” he said, as his eyes started darkening.

  The sound of footsteps came from outside the door. Greer reached for my hand, “We must go now. I would not want to startle the servants as they make their rounds.”

  “You have servants?” I snapped.

  Greer laughed, “I have paid servants who work for me and are treated very well.”

  Another dark tunnel opened up for us at the doorway, and we walked through it together. On the other end, we found my room and I saw Sneachta curled up in bed next to my body. My breath was smooth and even. Greer walked me over to my bedside and told me to lie down into my body. After I did so, I awoke gasping for air as I sat straight up. The room was growing dark now as night was settling on Burlington. I could not see Greer but I knew he was watching me.

  “I love you,” I whispered and felt a hand brush against my face.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  November 21st 1734

  Zachariah, Abigail, and I were sitting in a cramped carriage their father had hired to take us to the Philadelphia port. Abigail needed to pick up fabric for her wedding gown, and I was instructed to tend to Zachariah. The port was far from our town of Burlington and once again, it made no sense to spend the day traveling to and from Philadelphia when we had a busy and full port in our own town. Nevertheless, this was Mrs. Marthaler's request and so we were all forced to spend the day traveling in the stuffy carriage, whilst Mrs. Marthaler got to stay in the comfort of her home. It seemed rather unfair—especially when it meant that I was stuck being in such close proximity to Zachariah.

  “Sit by me,” Zachariah demanded, as he yanked at my dress with his good hand.

  “I am comfortable here,” I said from where I was sitting next to Abigail.

  Becky, who had been charged with tending to me, had been forced to sit up front next to the driver. According to the Marthalers, it was not proper to have slaves riding along with you in the carriage.

  Abigail was humming to herself and seemed to be lost in fantasy. She did not even notice the constant bickering between Zachariah and I.

  Gillis Sutphin had written to Abigail's father to inform him that he would be leaving Virginia to meet his new bride. Abigail was excited at the prospect and had been working on her hope chest, stuffing everything she could think of in it. Now we were tasked with finding the material for her wedding gown and any other trinkets she felt were necessary.

  They were to be married soon after his arrival. Weather would not permit them to travel in comfort back to Virginia, so Mr. Sutphin and Mr. Marthaler had reached an agreement on Abigail's dowry. A substantial plot of the Marthaler land was to be given to Mr. Sutphin as a second home. Unbeknownst to us, the ground hand been broken months earlier for just this reason and now a decent sized home stood proudly on the property. Abigail thought that I could look after the home for her when she was in Virginia and I was busy being married to her dear brother.

  “I said sit near me wench,” he yelled, as he pulled my arm and tried to place me on his lap.

  I fought with him, but that only made the carriage sway and the horses' rear up in protest. Poor Becky screamed. She hated horses and certainly did not enjoy the threat of being thrown from the carriage. Zachariah laughed at Becky's cries.

  “See what your resistance does?” he said proudly.

  I thought of Becky and submissively placed myself on his lap.

  “Good girl. Now if you can only learn to fetch a hare or bark on command,” he snickered.

  I ignored him as best I could and engaged Abigail in conversation. “What have you learned about your fiancé?”

  “Not much really,” her expression was dreamy and distant, “He enjoys hunting and imports many things from overseas like rum, jewelry, and slaves,” she said proudly.

  “Will that not bother you?”

  Zachariah slapped my thigh, “You are such a stupid girl Aislin! Why would her husband's activities bother her? They are none of her business. He makes a hefty profit and that is all Abigail needs to know.”

  “What about compatibility? What if Abigail finds out that she does not like him?” I demanded from her brother.

  “Well not all women are as lucky as you Aislin. They do not get to be in love with their betrothed.”

  I was about to respond to his despicable remark when the carriage stopped short. I was thrown off Zachariah's lap and onto Abigail.

  “What the hell did you stop for you fool?” Zachariah swore at the driver.

  I could hear Becky breathing heavily and the driver did not respond.

  “Stay here,” he commanded, as he climbed to the carriage door to let himself out.

  Abigail and I sat quietly. She was wide-eyed and trembling.

  Becky let out a shriek and I heard Zachariah tell her to be silent. I pushed passed Abigail and opened the carriage door.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “I want to see. It is better then sitting in here blindly waiting to be attacked by highwaymen,” I said to her.

  She froze at my words and buried herself under her cloak. She looked like a rabbit scurrying down into a burrow.

  My vision was blocked by the side of the carriage. I peered out to find Zachariah standing over some object that lay in the middle of the road. I could not see Becky or the driver from my angle, but I could tell from their quickened breath and shaken voices that both were frightened.

  “It's dead,” Zachariah said while kicking the object with the tip of his boot. “There's not much left of it though.”

  I jumped out of the carriage and made my way to his side. He was standing over some kind of large animal and it looked as though it was shredded to pieces.

  “Did I not tell you to stay in the carriage?” he asked snidely.

  “What kind of animal was that?” I asked.

  “A bear.”

  “What could do that to a bear?” I whispered.

  “Nothing I have ever seen. This is different to what has happen to our animals, which is why you should get back into the carriage.”

  I looked down at the poor beast. Its fur was completely gone and large cuts of flesh were missing, exposing bone. Fresh blood was splattered everywhere and stained the road with dark red patches. Entrails were strewn across the path.

  The horses were uneasy and kept kicking and bucking as though they sensed something that we did not. I felt lightheaded and swayed; and as I did so, I caught a fleeting vision. I knew what had done this. It was the Puca.

  I looked over at Becky and knew that she had come to the same conclusion.

  “I feel ill,” I leaned on Zachariah's shoulder to steady myself, which he immediately mistook to be a sign of affection. He placed his arm around me, and I quickly pulled my hand away from him.

  “Once again . . . go back to the carriage,” he snapped, as he realized that I recoiled at his touch.

  “Can Becky tend to me please?” I asked, hoping that he would allow me to usher Becky to safety.

  “I do not care,” he said in an annoyed tone.

  Becky was at my side in an instant and whispered, “Thank you,” in my ear, as she pushed me up into the carriage.

  Abigail was still buried underneath her cloak when we seated ourselves.

  “It is just a dead bear. They will move it and then we can go,” I said to the trembling mound of fabric.

  She peaked out from underneath and then decided that it was much safer beneath the cloak. Only a strand of her carrot colored hair was left to the outside world.

  Becky rolled her eyes at the silly girl, and I clutched tightly to the contents of my pocket. We both knew the danger that lurked outside the carriage, but
we had both faced it before—although I had not fully known what it was capable of until now.

  ********************

  Zachariah and the driver tried to move the carcass but it was far too large for them to manage. Instead, the horses were led around the remains and we drove on to the port.

  Abigail's spirits lifted the moment that we stepped out of the carriage. Mine dropped. All I could think about was the Grey Man and our first encounter.

  Zachariah left us to go to the tavern and we walked towards the merchant tables, where we hoped to find white silk for Abigail. The sun was shining brightly, although the air was cut with a chill. Winter was upon us now and the breeze that swept up from the harbor lodged its chill into the bones.

  Abigail bounced happily from merchant to merchant, telling all who would listen of her engagement to the wealthy Mr. Sutphin. Becky and I stayed behind Abigail and followed her around. Neither of us was happy to be at the port. Becky seemed rather nervous and looked upon Abigail with exacerbation.

  “If she keeps telling pirates of her engagement, she's liable to be kidnapped for ransom,” Becky warned.

  I heeded her advice and stopped Abigail's bragging. She was annoyed. She liked receiving as much attention as she could, but seemed to understand my concern and ceased her behavior.

  Abigail linked arms with me, “You have always looked after me, Aislin and for that I love you.” She smiled at me, as she moved through the crowd of shoppers and merchants strolling leisurely from table to table.

  As we continued to amble, I noticed that a young man was following us. At first, he kept his distance, but his range had been closing in on us for several minutes. I wondered if Becky's warning had come too late, but then I recognized him.

  “Abigail,” I said turning her around from where she stood draped in three colors of fabric, “Isn't that Jack?” I glanced back at the boy, with his mop of light blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and his big brown eyes gazing sullenly at Abigail.