Celtic Fire: Book One of the Guardian Series

by S Lawrence

  I am about to leave, man; I’m nervous. I’ve never done this before. Joy gave me a glass of whiskey which I gulped. Probably was not a great decision but I can feel it moving through my body. Hopefully it relaxes me some. Okay, I am leaving, wish me luck...

  June 19th

  I can’t stop crying; my heart is breaking. Joy has her arms around me as I write this. We are on the ferry heading away from the man I love; I can barely make him out, standing at the dock. We have a plan, but I don’t want to leave him. When I get home, I am telling Mother I am changing colleges. I am going to move to Scotland and go to the University here. I know she is going to try to stop me, but I know Da will help. And after they meet Faolan, surely she will understand.

  “Oh my God Emma! My dad’s name is Faolan! I finally have a name!”

  Emma looks at me and smiles, “Surely there can’t be that many men in the area with that name. When you get there, you might be able to find him, or at least someone who knew him.”

  I nod my head yes slowly, a smile creeping on my face. I think to myself, what if I could find him, oh man, I have so many questions.

  He has faded from sight, and my tears are stopping. I have to write it all down, so when we are old, we can remember how our love began.

  I got to the stones. First, it was just beginning to get dusk and the light shining on the stones made them shimmer, and I thought of his story. I walked to the middle and really looked around and on the stones, I could see the faint lines of the runes. So, I decided to say my prayer to the Morrigan and Danu, to anyone listening. I prayed to be able to keep my love with me. When I finished he was there smiling at me, I know he heard me call him my love, but I don’t even care. As he walked to me, the mist began to thicken, and we seemed sheltered from the world. My heart contracted, he was so beautiful. His eyes seemed to glow, and when he touched me, a rush of heat went through my body, and my muscles tightened. I swallowed hard, nervous and shaking with the desire I felt for him. I sighed as I leaned into him, pressing my breast into his hard chest. His breath caught, and he looked into my eyes, and we both knew we couldn’t waste a second. We spent the night making love; I was lost to him. He called me A ghra` mo chroi, love of my heart. He showed me wondrous things, magical things. Today my body is deliciously sore, and my mind is racing. I can’t wait until he comes for me in a month.

  I close my mom’s journal, lay it on the table and slowly stand up. I walk over to the fireplace, staring at the flames longingly.

  “Oh hon, are you okay?” Emma asked quietly.

  How do I answer that? She had been so happy, so in love and then all of that was taken from her. First, Grandmother had lost it when Jean Flanery dared to come home in disgrace. Then, this man, the love of her life, who said he would come for her, never did. He left her here to deal with the aftermath all alone. I know she never let him go, why wouldn’t she? I turn to look at Emma; I can see the sympathy all over her face.

  “Why didn’t she ever seem angry that he didn’t come? Why didn’t she tell me about him? Why wouldn’t she have left here and gone to find him?” I vent in frustration and anger.

  I am pacing now, anger not just at him, but at her, rises from with my heart. Only Emma knows how angry I was with my mom after she died. Angry because she had said she was getting better when she knew she wasn’t. Angry that she stole precious moments with her away from me. I had never felt right in saying it out loud, but now I could feel it all boiling up. Suddenly I whirl around and look at a picture of her. “YOU LEFT ME, AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME ANYTHING! NOTHING!” I scream at her, overwhelmed with emotion.

  I feel Emma’s arms come around me and I begin to sob, sinking to my knees. I was angry but also heartbroken. My mind was filled with what-ifs. As anyone who has them knows, what-if’s can kill you, strangling you in life you can never have. And so I cried harder for the family I see in my mind. I cry for the image of my father holding me. I cry for the possibility of my mom and me living out our lives together. Emma is crying also, and I pull her arms tighter around me, as we slide completely to the floor. I don’t know how long we cried. I just know I woke up, just before sunrise, and her arms were still around me. I looked into the face of my best friend and realized the what-ifs would have taken her from me and so I must let them go.

  “Hey,” she mumbles when she feels me watching her.

  “Hey,” I say. “Breakdown is over. Thanks for...”

  “No need for that,” she smiles. “I love you, and I would sleep on the floor every night if it meant that you would be okay.”

  “I know, and I love you so much for that. But let’s not sleep on the floor anymore because my back is killing me,” I say to her, stretching out the kinks.

  “Oh, thank God. Mine is too, and I have a class in a few hours,” Emma groaned.

  We both sit up and hug one last time, holding on for a few extra seconds, and then get up off the floor. I head to the coffee maker and get it started. “Go shower so you can make your class.”

  “You sure you’re okay? I can call Josie to teach the class.” Emma looked at me, concern lining her face.

  “I’m fine, seriously. I think I might wander the Quarter today. Do some people watching, shopping and eating stuff I know I shouldn’t.”

  “Okay,” she replies.

  I stand to look out the windows at the pasture and right on cue, the horses run out to greet the morning. I guess Henri is here already. I must have gotten lost in watching because suddenly, Emma is beside me, with a cup in her hand. I startle and smile, “Wow that was fast!”

  “Yeah, well I need to get going. I’m taking my coffee with me. Call me if you need me, okay?”

  “I promise. I love you!” I say as she turns to leave.

  She is already heading down the stairs when I hear her reply, “Love you too.”

  Chapter 9

  There is no place like the French Quarter. I love everything about it, even the tourists. I walk down Chartres heading towards Jackson Square, hoping it’s not too busy yet. It is hot already, and the humidity is high enough that only the brave will be out today. Of course, the locals will be, and I see a few of my favorite musicians setting up on their corners. Soon, the air will be filled some of the best music in the world. Shops are starting to open their doors, luring people inside. As I walk along, I see Earth Odyssey, a little store that sells jewelry, stones and they always have a psychic. I run my hand over the dragon bracelet in my pocket and head inside to see if I can learn anything useful.

  The man behind the counter looks up and smiles as I approach the counter. “Hi,” I smile at him. “I was wondering if you could look at a bracelet I recently received. It has some stones that I haven’t seen before.”

  “Of course, I’d love to check it out for you. Do you have it with you?” he replied.

  I reach into my pocket and pull the bracelet out, laying it on the piece of velvet, on the counter. His eyes widen when he see it. Gently, he picks it up and turns it over in his hands, looking at it from all sides then bringing it in close to his face. He is smiling, and excitement is etched over his face.

  “May I ask where you got this from?” he inquired.

  “Ummm, well, my mother left it to me when she passed away years ago but I just received it a few days ago,” I answered hesitantly.

  “Oh, I am so sorry for your loss.” He pats my hand but is drawn back to the bracelet. “Do you happen to have any idea where she might have gotten it? I only ask because of the remarkable craftsmanship and the intricate design.”

  “I can’t be sure, but I think she got it while she was in Scotland.”

  “Yes, yes of course...the Celtic symbols, although the dragon design isn’t Celtic. It is strange. It reminds me of a mix of quite a few different ancient dragon designs,” he wondered aloud.

  “I was wondering more about the stones. Do you know what they are?” I ask, hoping to ease my curiosity.

  He was looking very closely at the stones now, “Hmmm...
what? Oh yes, the umm, stones are Dragon’s Breath opals, but like none, I have seen before. The quality is amazing! I tell you dear; these are priceless; worth a fortune if you ever wanted to sell them.”

  “Oh, no I wouldn’t ever.” I hold my palm out, and he places the bracelet on it. I want to wear it, but I am afraid I will lose it. I plan to ask grandfather about the man who made my torque, to see if he can check it out and make sure it is safe to wear for my trip. I thank the man and turn to leave, slipping the bracelet back into my pocket. The heat slaps me in the face as I walk out the door. I haven’t taken five steps before the sweat is trickling between my boobs, ugh. I love the south, and I LOVE New Orleans but the sweating I could definitely do without. I continue down the block toward the sound of music in the square. I turn right, starting up the side of the square looking at all the art on display. Strolling in the shade, I make my way over to the carriages to pet the mules. I pause, like I do every time, to look through the park to the Cathedral, then proceed around the other side to ease back into the shade. I can smell the powdered sugar and chicory coffee from Du Monde. The music gets louder, as I draw closer to the church. I smile as I see the psychics and tarot readers at their tables, such a normalcy down here. As I walk in front of a table, I suddenly feel a hand on my arm. I jerk to a stop, looking back to see a very old man.

  “I’m sorry can I help you, sir?”

  “Tis I who can help you, lass.” His thick Scottish accent startles me and I stand dumbfounded for a moment. A memory flutters and then it’s gone.

  I smile at him, “Really? How do you think you can help me?”

  He takes my hand and pulls me to his table, gently pushing me down into the chair. “Oh, I’m sorry sir. I don’t need a reading. I was just listening to the music.”

  He has already sat down across from me and leans across the table. His eyes are filled with excitement. “Doona ye wish to know of the dragons?” he whispers and raises one wild bushy eyebrow in inquiry.

  I suck in a breath, and my heart starts to pound. “Did you say dragons?”

  “Aye lass, I did. I ken tell you the secret. What you be needing to know?”

  I lean forward nodding my head yes. He looks around and is about to start to tell me when the skies open up. In a moment, it is raining so hard I can barely see. Everyone is running for cover, and I stand up quickly. “I’LL BE BACK!” I yell to him. He is hastily shoving his cards and other things into a bag.

  As I move away, barely over the pounding rain, I hear him yell, “He tried to come for her...beware the scar.” And I stop, turning, I try to find him, but he is gone. I decide to grab a cab. Soon I’m standing in Emma’s dance studio, dripping water everywhere.

  “You look like a drowned rat. What happened?” Emma asked the moment her eyes fell on me.

  I grab her arm and drag her into the office, closing the door behind us. She has a concerned look on her face as she hands me a towel to dry my face. I wrap my hair in it and throw myself onto the couch.

  “Seriously! Tell me what happened, other than the rain.”

  And so I do. I tell her about what I found out, about the bracelet. Her eyes widen at the name Dragon’s Breath. Leaning forward, she listens more intently. I begin to tell her about the old man, but I can’t sit still, and so I am up and pacing when I reach the end. I stop, turning to face her.

  “He said that he tried to come for her!” Emma cried.

  “I know! I heard that part. Then, it sounded like he said something like ‘beware the scar’!” I was almost shouting with excitement.

  “I told you! I told you something must have happened to keep him from her.” She was jumping from foot to foot, clapping her hands a look of pure glee on her face. Then suddenly she stopped, and a puzzled look appeared, “Wait. What scar?”

  “I have no idea. But I am going to ask him when I see him again.”

  “Listen, I have a class in a few minutes, but after that, we can talk.”

  “No, don’t worry. I am going to get my car and head home. I want to get out of these wet clothes. I just wanted to tell you because, other than grandda, you would be the only one to believe me.”

  I hug my best friend tightly then leave. The rain has stopped already, like it does here, one seconded pouring the next clear skies. I walk the mile or so to my car and drive home. I love the rhythmic motion of the car as I drive across the causeway bridge heading to Mandeville. Although at times, it can almost lull you to sleep. I drive straight through the small town, heading to the farm. Loving how the roads are covered with grand old oaks, their branches dripping with Spanish moss, I turn and make my way up the drive. I park, get out, and breathe deep. I head inside, only stopping to give Fergus a treat. I head straight to the shower. My shirt is basically dry, but I have to peel my jeans off, they are soaked. I am in and out quickly, the whole time my encounter with the old man is running on a loop in my brain. I can’t shake that little niggle in the back of my mind that something is familiar, but for the life of me, can’t will it to become more. I know I’ll remember. I am that type of person; the one that sits up in the middle of the night from a dead sleep because suddenly I remember the actor's name or a song title. Honestly, it drives me crazy, but this time, it will be worth it. I dress in my favorite owl Lularoe leggings and t-shirt, heading out to the living room. I grab the journal, on the way over to my desk. I sit down and for a moment, just stare out the window. I can see the river just beyond the trees.

  “Okay, Aislin. Let’s figure this out.” They say brilliant people talk to themselves so...

  I grab my favorite pen and open the journal. I had noticed before that momma only used like half of it, so I am going to use the other half. I am a list maker. I make lists for my lists. Today, I am going to make a few more.

  Questions:

  1. Why didn’t Faolan come?

  2. If, like the old man said he tried, what stopped him?

  3. What is scar? sp?

  4. Why should I beware of scar?

  I realize I am biting my nail, a habit I broke long ago and pull it quickly from my mouth. I have three months to figure some of this shit out before I go to Scotland. I look at the clock and realize I have sat here, staring at nothing, for almost an hour, crap! I had just constructed an entire scenario in my head. I do that a lot. I have ever since I was little. Some people say it is day dreaming but really I feel like it is more than that. I mean, my brain gets some serious details in. It’s not an issue but boy, does time get away from me. This time it was if my father had come and mom lived. I can’t help but smile because it was a happy place, but then I feel sad at what I have never had. Knowing myself, I will visit that place often. I can do just that. Go back to a fantasy I create, build more on it and stay there for a bit. But for now, I need to try to figure out this scar mystery.

  Turning on my computer, I grab some leftover pizza and nuke it. The microwave ding pulls me out of my thoughts. I was starting to wander again, like Alice down the rabbit hole of my brain. I pull a coke from the fridge, pick up my pizza, and flop down in front of the computer. Pizza in one hand, I start typing with the other. The problem is Google, Bing, and Yahoo all say the same thing when I type in scar. Noun, a mark on the skin made from a wound. Yes, I know that, although it is also a steep high cliff often made of limestone, which I didn’t know. Learn something every day, I suppose. It also is, of course, the uncle from Lion King, also not what the old man meant but I am pretty sure it isn’t that reference.

  “Alright, Aislin. Think!” Another search, Scar plus Scotland. The Glasgow Smile, this is cutting a person's mouth from the corners going back towards their ears. Yikes! I can’t help but run my fingers along my cheeks. It shows a picture of the actor from Sons of Anarchy, Tommy Flanagan, who I find quite sexy. I never knew the story of his scars, and soon I have tumbled headlong into the black hole that is the internet, reading article after article, all of which basically tell the same story of how he was attacked. Wonderful another forty-five mi
nutes wasted, focus girl!

  Okay, do the search again and don’t get lost this time. Now here is something interesting - Skara Brae: a stone-built Neolithic settlement, located on the Bay of Skaill on the west coast of Mainland, the largest island in the Orkney archipelago of Scotland. Consisting of eight clustered houses, it was occupied from roughly 3180 BC to about 2500 BC. Europe's most complete Neolithic village, Skara Brae gained UNESCO World Heritage Site status as one of four sites making up "The Heart of Neolithic Orkney. Older than Stonehenge and the Great Pyramids, it has been called the "Scottish Pompeii" because of its excellent preservation. I am very interested, but again, not sure why the old man would say to beware of some old ruins. Although maybe, I am spelling it wrong. This is like looking for a needle in a haystack, but you have no idea what the needle looks like.

  Alright, maybe this should wait until I find the old man again because I just don’t have enough information. I have three months to try to figure at least some piece of this out. I need to make another list for everything I need to do to get ready for this trip. Not only am I a list maker, but I am also a pre-packer, you know, someone who has their stuff ready to go at least a week before a trip. Who am I kidding? I will have my suitcase out a month before at least, putting things in, then changing my mind and taking things out again. Grabbing my pen, I start my packing list. Before long, it is more than a page. I might need new luggage and possibly a Sherpa to carry everything for me.