Once I had entered my room, I carefully shut the door behind me so that it did not make a sound against the doorframe.
I felt numb, in both body and spirit. I knew Martha's death would eventually bring me to my knees in grief. Yet at this moment, I was unable to feel anything. I slipped on the wooden floor, but was able to steady myself before I woke up the whole house. I looked down and saw that my nightgown was drenched at the hem from the melted snow, and my slippers were saturated as well. I moved to my dresser to get a change of clothing when he spoke.
“Aislin . . .” his voice was weak, as though he had been crying.
“Greer!” I gasped.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his head hung low. I watched as he wiped his eyes with the heel of his hands. He never looked up at me.
“I am so sorry,” he whispered.
I went to where he sat and forced my way into his arms, “Martha came to me. She told me everything.” I held him and buried my face in his neck. He pulled me close to him.
“I never wanted take her life. She begged me to save her from being humiliated in front of the whole town. She told me that it was her worst nightmare to have Becky and you watch her die,” he wept.
The sound of his sorrow ripped away the numbness that had blocked my grief. Now, a staggering angst stabbed at my heart, and I was overcome with sadness.
“Martha told me that this was what she wanted . . . ” I heard the finality of my words. The past tense in which I spoke of my beloved Martha and it bereaved me. “You saved her from a horrible end Greer.” My words came out in a hoarse whisper as I spoke through my tears.
Up until now, the sight of Greer had made me forget the state of my body. I was still wet and cold. My feet were numb and my hand torn from my fall. I moved into the bed and pulled the quilt over my legs. As I gripped the blanket, I grimaced from the pain that was emanating from my hand. I leaned over to my bedside table and held my palm to the candlelight. As the light cast onto my injury, I heard Greer wince.
“Let me wrap that for you,” he said.
He went to the dresser where my mother had placed clean wrappings and salves. I watched as he held my hand gently in his and cleaned my wound. He did not even waver as my blood touched his skin.
“Do you feel as though you have gained some of your strength back?” I hesitantly asked.
Greer pulled up his shirt for me to see. The scabs were almost completely gone.
“I needed human blood to speed up the healing process . . .” he looked away from me again, as though he could not face me when he spoke of her. “Martha seemed to know that.” He pressed the salve into my skin and then gently started wrapping the clean cloth over the wound as he spoke, “She said she wanted me to benefit from her death. So she would not die in vain,” he stared at my hand, keeping his gaze away from my eyes, “I shouldn't stay with you, but I felt that I needed to explain myself. I was afraid that you would think I took her life against her will… and that you would hate me for it.”
I lifted his chin with my free hand and searched his face. His eyes were bloodshot from his sorrow and I brushed the tears away with my kisses.
“Greer, I love you. I understand what Martha wanted and why you agreed to do it. But please, please, do not stay away from me anymore. I cannot bear it. Every time my thoughts drift to you, I feel my soul threaten to leave my body in search of you. I know I will eventually end up in spirit again, like I did the day at the tavern, if I cannot be with you,” I said through trembling breaths.
“I know, my love. I will stay as long as I can, but you understand that I cannot come out in public. They will be searching relentlessly for me now. Lamont will want revenge for having his prey taken from him.”
“What are we going to do?”
“We are going to use his magic against him,” he said as he clung to me, “Martha gained more knowledge about him in the short time she was imprisoned, than I have in my lifetime. She gave me advice before I . . .” he took a shuttering breath and paused for a moment. “She told me that she gave you all the information you needed and it would reveal itself to you when the time was right.”
********************
Greer woke me when he heard movement from my parent's chamber and I went right away to meet my mother. My father had already left for work and she was still in bed. It was odd to find her sleeping, as she was always the first one up, but when I moved in closer, I realized that she was awake.
She was lying on her side with her knees tucked into her chest, paralyzed with grief, as tears silently streamed down her face and wet her pillow. She already knew.
I sat on the bed beside her and stroked her long auburn hair, “I am sorry,” I said softly.
“She came to me last night and said goodbye.”
“She came to me as well,” I replied, “Martha told me that she wanted this . . .”
“I know,” she cut me off, “She explained it to me as well. Still…it does not take the pain away. She should not have had to endure such torment. She should not have died in such a way!” Her pain filled the room, as her words seemed to linger in the air. She began to sob once more.
I handed her my kerchief and went to pour her a glass of water from the pitcher that sat on her nightstand.
“Greer is with us,” I said with hesitation. “Please be kind to him. He is distraught about what he had to do.”
My mother did not react as I had expected. In fact, she did not react at all. I placed the glass in her hand and tried to help her sit up to drink, but she was so overcome with sorrow that she sank like a sand bag, and the water tipped out of the glass and onto the floor.
“She needs time Aislin. We should let her rest for a while,” Greer said from where he stood leaning in the doorway.
I tucked the covers around her, kissed her, and then excused myself.
“We should talk,” Greer said.
He led the way down the stairs towards the kitchen.
********************
“Martha told me many things about Lamont,” Greer said. He was sitting at the table in his white cotton shirt and dark breeches, and his hair was tousled and wavy from the morning. He watched me as I made tea, and I felt rather self-conscious and silly in my oversized sleeping gown and water stained slippers.
“Anything that will be useful?”
Greer started slicing bread and buttering it, “I have learned where he is now lodging and much more about his type of magic. But I think we should wait until Becky is with us to talk more about this.”
I sat down beside him and he passed a plate of buttered bread in front of me.
“Martha spoke of you to me,” he said with a tone of forced steadiness. “She believed that out of all the witches she has met, you are the strongest in the Craft . . . that it will be you who will destroy Lamont. She told me that you will have every magical tool you will need when the time is right . . .” he placed his hand on my arm, “But Aislin, there has to be another way. I do not want you to do this,” Greer's voice quaked as he spoke.
I thought of his words and sat in silence. Martha was the most experienced of us, which was why Lamont had moved to take her life. He needed her out of his way and, more importantly, he needed to regain his strength from her magic.
“Martha knew all of our strengths and weaknesses. She told me that I would have to be strong for Becky and my mother . . . I think this is my fate.” My tone was apologetic. I would never want to cause Greer unease, or make him relive the terror of my death—but I knew that I would have to be the one to stop Lamont. This burden was always mine to bear. There was no other way.
Greer opened his mouth to speak but paused, “Your mother is coming downstairs,” he said.
********************
Becky sat in the kitchen with the rest of us. When she first walked in and saw Greer, she threw herself into his arms and wept.
“Thank you,” she shuttered, “Thank you for sav
ing my mother from a horrible fate.”
Greer held her and let her cry. None of us had any reason to believe that Becky had received a moment to herself to grieve since she had awoken that morning.
“She came to me in a dream last night,” she said, as she wiped her eyes and sat down at the table. “She said goodbye to me and she came to Isaac as well.”
“What else did she say?” my mother asked intently.
“That Aislin would need my help and that Lamont wants our powers,” Becky nervously fiddled with the handkerchief she held in her hands, “She also said that you are to stay out of this Deidre . . .”
My mother's eyes squinted and her knuckles turned white,” What?”
“I'm sorry Deidre.” Becky looked uncomfortable and tried to deliver her mother's message as kindly as she could, “She said that you hold too much distrust for Greer, and that in the end, you could endanger all of us,” Becky cringed as she waited for the response.
Greer and I sat quietly. I had known of my mother's suspicions of him for a long time, but I thought they would have subsided by now. Greer looked embarrassed and as uncomfortable as Becky did.
“Martha is wrong,” my mother said hastily.
We all just stared at her, knowing the truth.
CHAPTER THRITY-THREE
December 31st 1734
Evening Dinner
My father sat at the head of the table, my mother and I on either side of him. Greer was off finding food of his own, which was not of particular importance. Since Becky revealed my mother's feelings towards Greer, he had felt unwelcome in our home, and it took much convincing on my part to get him to step into my room. From that day forth, they had avoided each other like the plague.
My father still believed that Greer was permanently banished from my life, although the finding of two teeth marks on Martha's body had shaken him. In actuality, he believed that Greer was a thief and charlatan, just as Gillis had suggested. He did not buy into the notion that Greer was a monster, yet labeling my beloved to be a crafty imposter seemed to be a fair enough explanation. It was preposterous, but my father relied solely on logical reasoning and enjoyed a simplistic explanation to this complex problem.
“The events that have unfolded themselves this year have been horrible. Let us pray that in the coming year we have put them all behind us,” said my father, as he raised his glass.
My mother followed his lead and raised her glass as well, but I did not. I was growing tired of playing these games. Constantly appeasing my mother by pretending that things were just going to will themselves into being better and that Lamont would leave me alone. Of all the horrendous lies my mother was trying to force me to agree with, she had tried to convince me to accept that this was all Greer's fault and to forget about him. I would never succumb to that notion. I did not have the patience to pretend anymore, so I sat quietly and pushed the food around my plate.
“There is big news in town now,” my father said cheerfully, “The Governor has been so disturbed by the murder of his son, that he has sent in a battalion to patrol the forest and find Gre . . . ” he caught himself and then corrected his harshness, “the beast.”
“Greer is not the beast,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Aislin, not this again,” he said in exasperation.
“He isn't. I have told you . . . ask mother if you do not believe me!” I shouted at him, as I turned to her for support.
She just stared down at her plate and did not reply. I pushed my plate away from me and stormed from the room.
********************
Upstairs in my bedchamber I went to be alone, but the light that was coming from the forest shined through my window so brightly that I was drawn to it. It was nearly ten o'clock at night and yet, the forest was glowing with such luminosity that if I did not know better, I would have believed it was daytime.
Lanterns from the Governor's battalion of soldiers were everywhere, blanketing the forest in an eerie glow. Greer was out there and now he did not have the cover of darkness. Worse still, he could no longer efficiently conceal himself from his foes.
A spasm of fear gripped me and I felt my stomach ache with it. I had seen Greer recover from a horrible injury, an injury that most men would not have survived. Even so, it had slowed him down. It did hurt him and that was only one wound. What if he was attacked by a group of soldiers? How could he survive it? I did not quite believe that he was as invincible as his Order had told him he was.
I pressed my hand onto the window and watched as a fog spread out across the pane, emanating outward from the heat of my hand. It was still snowing. In fact, I do not believe it had stopped snowing for a week's time. In the midst of the lights and snow, I saw a little shadow making its way through our backyard and to the door. It was Sneachta, coming home from a hunt of her own. I often wondered if she and Greer hunted together and what that must look like.
Within moments, I heard a little scratch at my door from her small paw and I let her in. Her fur was covered in snow and she jumped on the bed to wipe it off on my comforter.
“Sneachta that is so boorish!” I complained as she slinked on her back and rolled across my pillows. At my objection to her drying methods, she flicked her tail at me, stretched herself out, and then proceeded to clean her paws while thoroughly ignoring my presence.
I picked her up and moved her. She had been laying on the nightgown that I had placed on my bed earlier that day. It was now saturated in melted snow.
I held her face up to mine as I scolded her, “You know that was very mean Sneachta, now my nightgown will need to be dried and my bed is wet. You know better little faerie.”
In response, she licked my nose with her little pink tongue and I could find no possible way to stay mad at her. As I went to snuggle her, I saw that a scrap of rolled up paper was attached to the ribbon on her neck. I uncurled it and took it to the candlelight.
Aislin,
We need to talk, but with the soldiers patrolling I have no means to get to you without stirring suspicion. Please be ready, Greer will come and escort you to a safe location.
Becky
I quickly took the note and set it aflame with the candle. Then I gathered my things and sat in wait for Greer.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
January 1st, 1735
Before Dawn
We sat on large barrels that were strewn around the tavern's cellar. The room was cold and damp, and we struggled to see in the darkness. The floor was dirt and all around us were towering shelves filled with spirits and other tavern supplies. Becky was waiting for us when we arrived.
A single candle was all that illuminated our faces, making each of us appear ghostly in the flickering light. We were talking in hushed voices. Greer believed that this was a safe location for the time being, but we still exercised caution at every turn.
“Lamont has come to our home now. He searched all the slave quarters,” Becky whispered.
“What was he looking for?” I asked. I leaned in close to hear Becky's reply.
“We do not know. He questioned Pete about me and then he questioned all the other men as well. He had the Minister and a few other men search the women for marks on their skin… and then he left.”
I looked at Greer, his skin was turning pale again and I knew that with the soldiers' presence, he was not getting enough to eat.
“Why would he be searching them for marks?” I asked.
“It is an old custom of witch hunters,” Greer sighed. “It is to search for the devil’s mark. It’s complete nonsense of course, but it is an easy way to accuse a person of sorcery.”
“But Lamont can sense magic . . . he does not need to look for a mark in order to know a witch,” I said in bewilderment.
“He was searching for something,” Becky explained. “I saw it. His eyes were darting all over the place. Perhaps he was looking for you,” she shrugged.
“I need to tell you both what Martha relayed to me before she
passed,” Greer said in his soft voice.
Becky and I ceased our conversation and focused on Greer.
“She told me that the Minister has housed Lamont in the woods, in a shed behind the Leeds' home. She told me that he spends most of the day with the Minister and the Governor. It was Lamont who suggested moving the battalion into Burlington.”
Becky and I looked at each other in amazement, “Wouldn't that stop him from searching for us?” I asked.
“No. He has frightened the leaders of this town into believing that he alone can rid Burlington of the monster. If he has bewitched them or simply used the persuasion of fear, I do not know. Yet, the truth remains that Lamont has their full support and he now has an army at his disposal.” He dragged his fingers through his hair and looked up at the low ceiling for a moment. “There is more…Martha told me something which I had not foreseen.”
I watched tension building in his demeanor as he tried to convey this new piece of information. He was lost in his own thoughts. His nervousness was so contagious that Becky and I held our breath.
“What is it Greer?” I could not wait any longer.
He snapped out of his thoughts and took a shallow breath, “Martha told me that Lamont and the Puca are one being…he is a shape shifter.”
I shook my head, “That cannot be . . . I saw him at Rebecca's home and at the port the first day . . .”
Greer cut me off, “He cast a spell that caused the pain in your body and the paralysis. It was the same one he used on your mother and Martha at the Ball. Think back to your encounters with the Puca or to your vision of Rebecca and her sisters . . . did you ever see both the Puca and Lamont?” he asked.
Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins Page 26
