by D. S. Elstad
“Jacky,” he said in a low, raspy voice.
Dad grabbed his hand. “Hello, Da.” He spoke softly, not even a hint of the anger that had been there for so many years. “How’re you feeling?”
“Eh, you know, I’ve seen better days,” he answered, taking hold of Dad’s hand. “I’m so very happy to see you, Jacky. It means the world to me to have you here.” His voice cracked and he began coughing.
Dad stepped over to the side table, grabbed a glass, and poured water into it, handing it to Grandpa. He struggled to grip the glass, so Dad held it up to his lips.
I stayed back at the threshold of the room watching intently the interaction between father and son. It bothered me that I was still in the dark as to what transpired between the two of them so many years ago. While I stood there, lost in my own thoughts, Dad focused his attention my way and tilted his head, motioning for me to join him in the room. I hesitated, not wanting to interrupt the moment between him and his father.
Grandpa turned his head my way and smiled broadly. “Willow, dear, join us,” his voice barely audible.
I stepped into the room and joined Dad at Grandpa’s bedside. His smile couldn’t hide his vulnerable condition. He appeared weak and even older than when I last saw him. He grabbed my hand and looked deeply into my eyes. His eyes looked even more brilliant against the blue blanket nestled up to his chin.
“I’m very happy to see you as well, Willow. I’m sorry it has to be in a hospital; not a comfortable place for us all to catch up, now is it?”
“It’s ok Grandpa, I’m just glad you’re doing so much better.” The word Grandpa slipped out without any thought at all, and judging by the lack of reaction from Dad, I finally felt free to refer to Conor as “Grandpa” in front of him.
We engaged in some small talk for the next few minutes while the nurse checked his vitals and made her rounds. After she left, Dad pulled up a couple of chairs and we sat on either side of Grandpa’s bed. I held onto his hand, feeling as though I should rub it between my own or blow on it, it was so cold. He gripped tightly and I placed my other hand over his, hoping to bring him warmth.
“Da, I know Eagan has been keeping you up to date with all the goings-on with the police and the investigation into Ma’s passing...”
Grandpa stiffened without letting go of my hand. “It’s a bunch of nonsense, Jacky. What is wrong with the garda, have they gone quite mad? Saying that they can’t find the cause for my Shannah’s death. She died; it had to have been her heart just stopped. I can’t allow them to do an autopsy. That was something she would have never agreed to. In fact, years ago, when we made up our wills, she made me promise that no such thing would ever happen.”
Grandpa’s voice began cracking again, so I held the glass of water to his lips.
He nodded appreciatively, drank, and then continued, “You know your mother, she was an old soul, didn’t like science and such poking around into things like death.” His eyes began to fill with tears and he held them shut for a few minutes. I looked over at Dad. He just shook his head.
“Da, I know this is a lot to deal with, but the fact of the matter is the police will do an autopsy with or without your consent just because questions have been raised.” Dad leaned in closer, hoping to avoid earshot of anyone passing.
“And who raised these questions, may I ask?” Grandpa said, becoming agitated, trying to pull himself into an upright position.
Dad stood and leaned over the bed, hands on Grandpa’s shoulders in an effort to keep him lying down. “Easy now, Da, you need to stay calm. I don’t know who raised these questions. All the police care about is that they’ve been raised. Eagan has arranged for a friend of yours, Jim Fitzgerald, to look into everything and find out what may be going on. Trust us to take care of this, will you please, Da?” A sense of urgency filled Dad’s words as he held onto his father’s shoulders. He lowered himself so they were practically eye to eye.
Grandpa slumped back down into his bed and exhaled a deep long breath. He looked up at Dad and grabbed his arm. “I trust you, Jacky; take care of this for your Ma…and me.” A single tear fell down his cheek and made its way to the blue blanket lying across his chest. A wet mark stained the blanket and spread out like cracking glass.
Dad lowered himself and embraced his father, gently whispering into his ear. A slight gasp came from Conor as he held tightly onto his son. Dad assured Grandpa everything would be ok and that we’d return soon. “Just keep getting better now, ok?”
Grandpa simply nodded and smiled. He looked my way, gave a wink and a slight grasp of his hand then let go and closed his eyes. I wanted to kiss his cheek but decided against it and quietly stepped out of the room. Dad was already a few steps ahead of me and didn’t slow his pace. I quickly caught up with him and saw the flushed look on his face. I grabbed his hand as we made our way out of the hospital.
The car ride back to the hotel was subdued, marked only by occasional bouts of rain. I had lots of questions for Dad but wanted to let him break the silence when he was ready. Turned out he wasn’t ready for several hours. I sat with him in the hotel room while he lost himself in the pile of paperwork on the table.
The stillness was finally interrupted by the buzzing of my phone. A message popped up from Kelleigh. I had completely forgotten about getting back in touch with her and Quinn. Dad suggested I get together with them since we’d be going home soon. I hadn’t even thought about leaving with everything that’d been going on the last few days. So much was still unresolved; I found it hard to think about home.
Chapter Twenty
Kelleigh picked me up at the hotel and told me she’d arranged for us all to get together at her house. Waiting there at the front door were Bram and Quinn. Bram came up and hugged me, then asked how everything was. I told them about the autopsy, Grandpa, and what I knew, which really didn’t feel like a lot.
We had the house to ourselves since Kelleigh and Quinn’s folks were out for the evening. Kelleigh motioned for us to make ourselves comfortable in the living room. Bram took his place next to me on the couch, with Quinn sitting on the floor and Kelleigh across from us on a chair. I could see the curiosity filling her eyes. She was the kind of person who didn’t like to be in the dark. I’d only known her for a week but that was one quality that was painfully obvious about her.
“So what about the shifting, Willow, any more occurrences?” she asked, focusing her full attention on me.
I glanced over at Bram and wondered just how much we should confide in these two. We hadn’t really had a chance to talk about it ourselves so I wasn’t sure where to go in answering her question.
“Kelleigh, Willow and I need to speak to my da first before we can go into anything,” Bram answered, taking my hand.
“What does that mean?” asked Kelleigh getting noticeably agitated. “Does Bram speak for you now, Willow?” Sarcasm oozed from her voice.
I immediately budged and let go of Bram’s hand, feeling uncomfortable at Kelleigh’s assertion. Never being one to let anyone speak for me, I found myself questioning how and why I was so willing to sit there and let Bram do it. I scooted a few inches away from him on the couch and looked Kelleigh squarely in the eyes. “I can speak for myself, Kelleigh. It’s that Bram has been so helpful during all this and, thanks to his dad, we’ve come up with a few answers as to what may be going on.”
I looked over to Bram whose eyes were following the fluid movement of Quinn’s hands. He glanced my way, narrowed his eyes, then shot back to Quinn. When Quinn had finished relaying the conversation, Bram whipped out his phone and began texting. “We need to speak to Da before we share anything with them.”
“Bram, be realistic, they know so much already. Maybe they can help. I’m not comfortable keeping them in the dark after all they’ve done for me and I sure don’t want to turn Kelleigh into an enemy.” The words spilled onto my keypad.
Bram snickered and lowered his head, nodding. “Right on that,” he said aloud, causi
ng Kelleigh and Quinn to look back and forth at each other.
“Right on what?” Quinn rose to his feet and sat down on the couch beside me.
Bram and I stared at each other before I mouthed the words, “We need to tell them.”
Bram shrugged his shoulders and sat down on the floor, stretching out his long legs.
Kelleigh jumped up and joined Quinn and me on the couch. She rested her chin on my shoulder and whispered, “You can tell us anything; you know that, Willow.” She sighed, then shot a frown at Bram. He just shook his head.
For the next two hours Bram and I disclosed the secret of my grandmother and both of our family’s connections to the Eye of Balor and the Tuatha de Danann. Kelleigh alternated between pacing and sitting beside me on the couch. Occasionally she would utter a “fantastic” or “brilliant” as she listened intently for what I surmised must have been the longest stretch of time she ever went without monopolizing a conversation.
Several times, while I was in the middle of sharing some bits of information, Bram would cut me off and offer the more concise version of the legend. I was completely surprised when he told Quinn and Kelleigh about his own transformation and the ease in which he shared his story. It was during this part of our conversation that Kelleigh was the stillest I’d ever seen her.
Quinn, on the other hand, was delighted and rushed at Bram a flurry of questions about how it felt to fly, as well as how his deafness played into the whole transforming thing.
After we’d exhausted all our explanations and Quinn and Kelleigh had come to an end of questioning, Bram offered to take me back to the hotel. Kelleigh hugged me, still in a quiet, introspective frame of mind and vowed, “This won’t go any farther than me and Quinn, ok?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t at all worried about divulging the whole truth to them. It had to be told. They knew so much already; to keep them in the dark would have been ludicrous.
Before I left Bram to go back to the hotel room, we made plans to see each other again. He said that his father was anxious to meet and give me Shannah’s pendant along with his latest findings. I was beyond excited. I couldn’t wait to finally meet his dad and maybe get some clearer answers. The fact that Bram’s dad appeared to be the only living soul with any kind of history of the Triquetra was scary. I couldn’t help but think it was a terrible burden to place on one man’s shoulders.
I said my good-byes to Bram and walked along the winding path to the hotel lobby. Once again the weather was turning crazy. I pulled up my hood and rushed to the entrance.
The corner of my left eye caught movement in the four-foot-tall rhododendrons growing alongside the path; the very rhododendrons I had seen movement in earlier. I stopped walking, but hesitated turning my head to look at the plants. Instead I shifted my eyes to the far left, trying to discern a shape of some sort. The movement continued. I knew it wasn’t caused by the wind because it was too centered, not random enough. The leaves of a single branch from the plant were swaying and fluttering. It was then I became aware of the mist; faint at first, barely noticeable using my peripheral vision, but definitely there.
I closed my eyes and brought my entire body’s attention to my auditory sense. I focused only the plants, trying to perceive any kind of sound. First thing I picked up on was a muffled noise, almost imperceptible, but undeniably there. It began with a low rhythmic humming. As it grew in volume, distinctions in tone and verbiage became apparent. Words were being said. But these words were unknown to me, ancient and powerful. Even though I’d never heard them before, they touched something deep inside and sounded off an alarm.
I opened my eyes and swiftly turned my head to the mist. There in the mass of gray-white smoke appeared a face of hideous distortion. The undulating image had a single eye in the center of its head. Two holes pulsated below the eye and a jagged slit, which looked like a mouth, ran from side to side. A small version of elephant ears rested on either side of the head. The white of the eye was road-mapped in cobwebs of red; within the iris were the most putrid shades of green and brown I’d ever seen, reminiscent of Easter egg dyes when they’re all mixed together. The abhorrent image rippled in a way that made its grotesqueness even more pronounced.
The single eye bore deeply into my psyche, trying to take control of my body. For a time I felt unable to move or even breathe. Unexplained feelings of hatred came over me. A single desire to annihilate anything and everything was taking over. I was losing myself.
I tried to channel thoughts of Grandma and resistance, but felt locked up in the Eye. I was unable to resist the way I had in the hotel room; this force was about a thousand times stronger. Before I reached the point of no return I became aware of a change in the mist and felt myself returning to my senses. Pressure on my arms told me I was being held, but my vision was still misted over with the pulsating image. I could perceive words outside the image, coming from behind me. Again the ancient language was spoken, but this time I recognized the speaker.
With each word he said, Bram pulled me back, away from the mist. It appeared to grow faint until, finally the only thing left was the gentle fluttering of a few rhododendron leaves. I spun around hurriedly and let myself sink into Bram’s arms. My entire body trembled while my vision finally came back completely. Once my breathing returned to normal I stepped back and stared at Bram. For the first time since I’d met him I saw fear in his eyes.
The low roar of the engine was the only sound coming from Bram’s car. Both of us sat, speechless, dazed, and – speaking for myself – more frightened than I’d ever been in my life. The horrible spectacle was still flashing before my eyes and took so much effort to disengage from my mind that I found myself feeling exhausted from the task.
Bram’s white-knuckled driving was erratic at times; he must have been feeling the same way. We hoped that his father would be able to calm our fears, or at least shed some light on this latest encounter.
When we pulled into the driveway at Bram’s house we were happy to see his dad sitting on the front porch, almost as though he’d known something incredible had once again happened. He got up, walked to the car, and opened my door, signing to Bram all the while. The two stood across from each other, engaged in a deep hand-driven discussion. I got out of the car and wandered over to the porch, sitting on the lowest step, happy that my heart had finally slowed down to its normal rate. I took advantage of their conversation and gave Dad a call. He was on his way back to the hospital to see Grandpa. His voice sounded easy and calm, something that gave me great comfort considering all the turmoil he’d been through the past few days. I told him I’d see him soon.
Bram came over and sat beside me on the step. “Willow, this is my da, Aaron O’Neill.”
His dad leaned against the hand railing and folded his arms across his chest as he studied me. He stood a few inches shorter than Bram, with graying dark brown hair. He wore glasses, and standing there in his dress shirt and tie, reminded me of a college professor. He looked very distinguished. I could see where Bram got his good looks.
“Nice to finally meet you, Willow,” Aaron said, then began signing once again. “I was just telling Bram about some major disturbances that are going on. I believe they’re related to our situation.”
“What kind of disturbances?” I asked, standing up.
“Despite the rains we’ve seen here in Killarney the past few days, other parts of Ireland are going into a drought. Water levels at some of the lakes appear to be dropping, significantly, in a relatively short amount of time. It’s not only here in Ireland. Many parts of the U.K. are seeing major weather disturbances. I just watched a news story on TV. It’s really quite alarming,” he said as he wiped the lenses of his glasses with his tie.
“But I thought the only area that the tribulation targeted was Killarney,” I said, unsure if I remembered correctly.
“Killarney is where it begins, but the tribulation has the potential to be a worldwide threat,” Aaron answered, returning his glasses to
his nose.
“Da thinks it’s the Fomorians trying to gain control before we do,” Bram said as he stood beside me.
“So basically, you’re saying the tribulation is…the Fomorians?” The dazed look on my face told Aaron he needed to elaborate.
“Willow, the tribulation is what will occur if the Fomorians regain control of the Eye of Balor. Balor was a Fomorian. It was his race that was banished from Ireland after Lugh killed him. No one knows for certain where they were banished to. I believe they were sent beneath the ocean floor off of Tory Island, but that doesn’t really matter. They start to make their presence known when the Triquetra is compromised, like now. They’re always on the lookout for an opportunity to return and lay claim to what they consider to be their domain…Ireland. And once they claim Ireland, being the warriors that they are, they’ll move on to Scotland and so on until they dominate the world.” Aaron glanced to the sky before continuing.
“Once there’s the slightest gap in the Triquetra they begin manipulating the weather through storms, drought, and drastic seasonal changes. The fact that they’re able to now control weather all over the U.K. concerns me. This produces an energy source for the Fomorians to tap into. The more energy they’re able to extract, the greater capacity they have for manifesting themselves into earthly creatures. The first attempt at becoming earthbound is usually the mist. Bram mentioned that you’ve had several encounters with it.” Aaron spoke so matter-of-factly that it somehow eased my mind. Like all this talk was nothing more than a school lecture.
“Yes. The one we just saw had a hideous face swirling around in it,” I said, looking back over to Bram.
“Aye, Da, it was like a Cyclops, with a single eye. It was trying to control Willow. When I took hold of her it faded.”
