Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins

by Margeaux Laurent

  “You should not be so close to me.”

  “It is fine. You never would harm me,” I reassured him.

  “I tasted your blood,” he said, in an almost inaudible tone.

  “But you let me go.”

  He reached up slowly, as though he did not trust himself, and touched my lower lip. It was covered in blood.

  “I am so sorry,” he sighed deeply.

  I shook my head as I hid my trembling hands behind me, “It was a mistake Greer…” I was struggling to steady my voice and mask the shiver that ran through my body.

  “You should go,” he whispered, as he looked down at the floor. “I will get your things and take you home.”

  I felt my throat constrict as I forced myself not to cry, “No,” I whispered, “Don’t do this… please let me stay with you.”

  Greer seemed unmoved by my pleading, “I will not risk killing you Aislin,” he argued.

  I took a shuttering breath as I covered my face with my hands, “It cannot be like this,” I wept. “I need you Greer…and you need me too. Do not condemn us to living without each other.”

  “Aislin, do you not understand how close I came to—” he clenched his hands into fists as he tried to suppress his temper. “This is not a game…I’m afraid that I cannot control myself.”

  I dabbed the tears from my eyes with the sleeve of my gown. I could not pretend that I wasn’t frightened by what had transpired between us tonight, but the thought of losing him was more horrifying than anything else this world, or the faerie world, could ever conjure.

  “We have been through so much,” I spoke with great caution, knowing that each word I uttered held the potential to either keep us together, or separate us for all eternity. “With all that we have overcome, this is just another challenge we must face … I will never leave you Greer, you need to accept this.”

  I reached out for his hand as I waited with baited-breath for his response.

  He flinched at my touch, “Aislin, calling my condition a challenge is like saying that Zachariah is just temperamental. You have no idea of how dangerous I can be…if you stay with me, you are condemning yourself to a life you could not possibly imagine…and you will always be at risk.” He pinched the skin between his eyebrows as he gently shook his head, “I should never have talked to you that day at the port. It was selfish of me to force myself into your life.”

  I could no longer control myself. I slammed my hand down on the floor and screamed, “What life?” I cried, “Before you came along I never lived, not one day of my existence was worthwhile until I met you … and now, you say you want me to forget you. How can I possibly forget the very person who holds the other half of my soul?” I wept.

  He slowly looked up and his eyes met mine, “I am so sorry, my love,” a single tear trickled down his cheek as he cautiously reached for my hand, “I never meant to bring these complications into your life. Protecting you from Lamont is one thing…but to have to shield you from my inner-demons is something I am not sure I am capable of.”

  I shook my head in fervent disagreement, “Greer, think. You tasted my blood tonight, and yes, you fought your inner nature…but your will prevailed. I know you Greer. You love me too much to ever bring me to harm.”

  He gently squeezed my hand, “I would never deliberately hurt you beloved, but how can I trust myself after what has transpired?” His eyes dropped down again as the event replayed itself in his mind.

  I placed my other hand on his, as I inched closer to him, “Even if you do not trust yourself, I trust you.” My body quaked with sadness, “Please promise me that you will stay with me,” I pleaded.

  He looked surprised by my words, “How can you still wish to be with me after this?”

  I looked down and knew that my words held more danger in them than I wanted them to.

  “If you will not stay with me than I will beg you to take my life now. I'd rather die than be forced to spend a lifetime without you,” I said bravely.

  I meant the words. I hoped that if this were his choice, to leave me, he would spare me the pain of being alone for the rest of my existence. Or worse, spend my life forced into the arms of another man. In truth, I could think of no other way which would be so pleasant to die. I wanted to live, but if I had to go, this would be the most preferable choice.

  “Do not speak of such things,” he said softy. “I will never leave you Aislin. I love you too much. But I do not know what to do about this.”

  “What do you think would help you?” I inquired.

  He rubbed his face with his hands, “My Order would know what to do, but I have already broken their rules by being with you. I highly doubt that they would be willing to supply me with the answers we need.”

  “What rules have you broken?”

  He took my hands now, as though he was starting to trust himself again. He picked me up and moved me to the bed. I did not realize it, but the cold from the floor had gotten to me, and my hands and feet were as cold as the ice outside. He pulled the covers over me but did not join me under them. He sat tentatively on the very edge of the bed.

  “When I was changed they gave me specific rules that I was to follow, and I thought I could do so without any problems. But I had no idea that I would ever see you again.” He looked at me and pulled the covers further up, so that my neck was covered. “One of the rules was to never fall in love with a mortal. I thought this one would be the easiest of all to follow, but I never realized that I would find you. So, I cannot go to them for help.”

  I was still shivering under the blankets and began to move my feet around to get the blood back into them. I wished there was a fire in the room, but it was very basic lodging.

  “I am not a normal girl though. I am a witch. Maybe they would find me to be acceptable?” I said hopefully.

  “I doubt it. But that does not matter,” he said, as he rubbed my arms through the blanket. “I promise that I will not leave you, no matter who approves or disapproves.”

  I thought about his words and realized that there were holes in his promise.

  “Do you promise to take me as your wife, no matter what?” I asked.

  “Yes Aislin. I promise,” he leaned in, very carefully and unhurriedly, and kissed my forehead. His lips were cold against my skin. I pulled the covers back and bade him to join me.

  “Please, you are cold too. I can feel it.”

  “I am fine,” he said, while pushing the blankets back around me.

  “Please Greer,” I felt saddened by his rejection, “I just want to be near you.”

  He moved closer to me and sat with his back against the headboard.

  “I do not know where the boundaries are anymore. I cannot tell when you are safe with me and when you are in danger.” He raised his arm for me to hug him but looked concerned about doing so.

  “I am safe with you Greer. You have to trust yourself.” I reached up to kiss him, but he pulled away.

  “Your lips are too tempting,” he said.

  “Will you never kiss me again?” I said, with far too much desperation in my voice.

  Greer saw the pain that I felt and I could tell that he knew all my thoughts, even the ones I did not wish to share.

  He brought my face within inches of his so that our eyes were locked upon one another. “I desire you more than I desire anything else in this world, but I will not risk hurting you.”

  I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth as though I wanted it to go away. It was the culprit that had taken away my intimacy with Greer and I hated it for betraying me. He touched my lip and I let it out from between my teeth. A droplet of blood stood out on his white finger, and he stared at it as though it was the apple and he was Adam.

  “Aislin, do you trust me?” he asked intensely.

  I nodded in reply. Then he leaned in and kissed me. His grip tightened for a moment but then softened again. I wrapped my arms around his neck and relished in the sensation of his cool lips touching mine. I could feel
his internal struggle as his muscles tightened and softened. Then I realized he was gently sucking on my lip. I tried to back away and for a moment he hesitated, but finally he released me.

  I did not escape to the far corners of the room or even to the edge of the bed. I just pulled my lips from his and looked at him. His eyes were normal, soft, and beautiful.

  “I need to learn to handle this,” he said, his voice almost purring in his melodious accent. “If you are ever injured, I need to know that I will be able to help you and not cower away . . . or that I will not attack you.”

  He placed a hand at the base of my neck and pulled my lips toward his again. I touched his soft dark hair and felt the closeness of our bodies. I did not want this night to end.

  He pulled on my lip a little and I could taste the blood. He cradled me in his arms, his lips never leaving mine. He laid me down on the bed, my head resting on the pillow. He covered us both with the blanket and then continued kissing me.

  “You are tempting in many ways, my love,” he spoke softly.

  I clung tightly to him and he kissed my hand as it brushed passed his lips, “I told you before that I want our wedding night back,” he whispered in my ear.

  “Is this our wedding night then?” I asked breathlessly.

  He broke out into laughter and kissed the tip of my nose, “No sweet Aislin. This is not our wedding night and I will not be taking from you what is not yet mine. No matter how much you tempt me.”

  I felt rather innocent and rather stupid all at the same time. “Oh,” I replied dejectedly.

  He continued to hold me close to him and every once in a while touched my lips to his.

  “This is better. I know that I can handle your blood now.”

  “So you feel as though you can kiss me without being afraid?” I asked hopefully.

  He did not answer with words, but kissed me with centuries’ worth of welled up passion. Then he placed my head upon his chest, pulled the covers tightly over us both and whispered for me to sleep.

  Within a moment, I was slumbering contently. Not a single nightmare invaded my peaceful state. I simply slept.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  December 3rd 1734

  I awoke in my own bed. Greer was gently stroking my face with his fingers. The sunlight was dancing off his face and hair.

  “Good morning, my love,” he smiled down at me.

  “Am I dreaming?” I asked.

  “No darling, you are awake,” his expression changed suddenly, as though he heard something that disturbed him. “I must go. But I will see you downstairs,” he said, and within a blink of my eyes he had disappeared.

  I dressed quickly and went downstairs. Just as my foot reached the bottom step, Greer knocked on the front door. My father went to open it and invited Greer inside.

  “I apologize that I will not be able to stay and chat this morning Greer. I just received a message from one of my reporters of an egregious crime and I must be off.”

  “What sort of crime?” my mother asked.

  My father struggled to put on his coat as he tried to answer my mother. “Young Rebecca Schaffer . . . you remember, the girl who went to Sunday school with Aislin?”

  My mother nodded her head, “Yes. I know of her.”

  “Well she and her three younger sisters were found dead in their bedroom this morning. It is a tragedy. Their parents found the poor girls, their bodies had been ripped to shreds,” he said, as he hurriedly shut the door behind him.

  I gripped the banister in an attempt to steady myself. I remembered Rebecca well. She was a kind girl, although rumors from the towns' people haunted her family. Her family was Dutch and all blonde, but Rebecca had jet-black hair and was often accused of being half Lenape. The town children always tormented her, calling her a “mix breed” and her mother was looked upon suspiciously. Rebecca had always been friendly to me and each time she saw me, she always mentioned that our hair was so much alike in color. Her little sisters were sweet children and were always well behaved, even when they were out of their parent's sight.

  My grip on the banister tightened and I became lightheaded. Then, without warning, without invitation, I could see. I could see everything.

  Rebecca was sleeping in her bed with her back to the window. Her little sisters, Ginny, Mercy, and Sarah, were all tucked in next to her. Only her dark hair was visible amidst the piles of white blankets and blonde locks. The small fire that warmed the room suddenly blew out, but none of the room's inhabitants stirred. Then the room went so cold that the girls’ breath was visible. The bed shook and Rebecca stirred. She saw nothing, but let out a scream of terror as she felt a heavy presence depress the mattress of the bed almost to the floor. The wooden frame that held the bed together cracked under the weight of the monster and it pulled the covers off the sleeping children. Her sisters awoke and cried out. The youngest one, Ginny, barely five years old, ran for the door but was lifted high into the air by an invisible force, and thrown against the wall. Her little body lay motionless on the floor. I could hear Rebecca's constant screams. Her parents were pounding on the door but it was sealed. No one could help them. She had laid herself on top of her little siblings in an attempt to protect them, but it was useless. Then the screams stopped and the fire relit, the bed was covered in blood and the door flung open.

  In the woods by the house, a man stood in silence. A smile spread across his wicked face as he reveled in his triumph. Lamont believed he had found me seeking safe harbor in the home of an all-blonde family. 'How stupid could she be?' he thought. Cocking his head to the side, he listened to the cries coming from Rebecca's parents. Staring at a small house that appeared dark in coloration, he found great pleasure in the sorrow and terror that he had brought upon this family. The Grey Man stretched out his arms and waited for the power to surge through his body, but it never came. For he had not killed a witch, he was mistaken and had wasted his time. Anger now filled him and he thought of killing the rest of the family for good measure, but listening to their agony seemed to be more entertaining. Lamont stood in silence for a while and listened to the family until it bored him, and then he stomped off into the darkness of the forest. The sun was coming up fast over the horizon and he did not want to be seen near the home of the slain girls.

  I fell and slid down the last steps of the stairs, “No!” I screamed.

  Greer ran over and picked me up, “What Aislin?”

  I could not answer. I was horrorstruck by the images that flooded my mind. Everything was clear to me. Far too clear, as though I was standing next to Rebecca as the scene unfolded.

  “They're dead!” I sobbed, “It's all my fault. He was after me! He wanted me and he killed them instead.”

  Greer rocked me back and forth and my mother held my hands in hers.

  “Aislin, this is not your fault. Lamont is an evil man. You did not do anything wrong,” my mother insisted.

  “She had dark hair. He thought she was me because of her dark hair,” I said through broken breaths.

  They both tried to comfort me, but their attempts were useless. I lay on the floor in the sitting room with my legs tucked into my chest and refused to speak.

  Greer would not leave my side and even Sneachta, who was still weak, stayed close to me. Looking at her bandages reminded me yet again of the ruthless nature of my hunter. I hated him now. I vowed to myself while staring transfixed into the fire that I would kill him. I would not do it quickly either. He would pay for all the pain he had caused. I would avenge them all.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  December 4th 1734

  Everyone in the town attended the funeral of Rebecca and her sisters. The church was crowded and stuffy, even in the cold winter's air. My family sat in the middle pews of the church, and I could see the Marthaler family in the front row. They were dabbing their eyes and pretending to feel remorse. I doubted they even knew Rebecca or sweet little Ginny, precocious Mercy, or the soft hearted Sarah.

  The Mini
ster went on and on with his sermon. He said all the usual prayers regarding death. We had heard them all before, and I wondered if anyone found comfort in them when they thought of how these girls were slain. It was no mystery. The details of their murders were disclosed to all. Their bodies had been found slashed to pieces, internal organs spilled out upon the bed, throats slashed and their blood soaked into the bedding.

  Rumors were all around us. Before the sermon started, the crowd buzzed with vile speculations of Native curses seeking revenge for denying Rebecca's lineage. I wanted to scream at the ignorant people around me. How could they not see that this was the same creature that had left the bear on the road merely days before? They were ignorant and so blinded by their hatred of all that was different from them that they could not even piece together a simple puzzle. Instead, they chose to use this tragedy as an excuse to point fingers and promote their own causes. It was disgusting.

  I hoped that the Natives would not be held responsible for Rebecca and her sisters' deaths. That would be horrible.

  As the bells were rung and the incense burned, I thought of Rebecca. She was always kind to those around her. Even when the horrible children teased and taunted her about her family, she never spoke an ill word to anyone. I remembered how I had asked her numerous times if she would like to join me for afternoon tea, but she always said no. She was forever at her mother's side. Always helping her family and taking no time for herself.

  I looked around me and saw rows upon rows of hypocrites. People, who had spread nasty rumors about her family, called her a “half-breed” and pointed fingers at her, now sat silently dabbing their eyes as though she and her little siblings were their best friends.

  The girls were to be buried on their family's property. They were not wealthy and therefore the children would not be buried near the church. Her family sat behind us, a few rows back, and I saw them as we walked to our pew. They looked grievous and sick. The two little boys clung close to their mother, and their father held their hands as though he was afraid to let them out of his sight. I wanted to offer my condolences, but I realized that they did not care. Nothing that I could say would make them feel better. I was not their daughter's friend. I was merely an acquaintance and I could offer them no peace from the pain they felt.