Guardian of the Moon Pendant

by Laura J Williams

  I gasped, horrified.

  “How disturbing,” I whispered under my breath.

  Blane’s torso swung abruptly around, rushing to my side. “I didn’t mean for you…” he said trailing off.

  “What is that dreadful thing?” I asked pointing to the hideous creature.

  Blane’s body brushed against me, cradling me as if he was protecting me, gliding his hand lovingly up and down my arm, his stroke warm and inviting, erupting goose bumps all over my body as I melted from his touch.

  “The most feared faery in all of Scotland,” he said. I could feel his hand trembling as the heat from his body enveloped me. “The Nuckelavee is the devil of the sea.”

  “Oh.”

  I felt his grip tightening on my skin as if he never wanted to let me go. My heart fluttered. I was torn between the man of my dreams and the man I already pledged my heart to. Edgar never made my heart do loops like this. He never made me feel this special.

  “Those are your tasks, lass,” he said somberly, “to recharge the Moon Pendant.”

  I cringed inside.

  The fourth painting was the MääGord standing stones, charged in electricity, swirling around in a fireball of illuminating lights.

  Blane pointed to the first painting with a fiendish man, dripping in a bloodied cap, crouching before a medieval stone tower. “The Bloody Baron’s tower is where you’ll recharge the element of air,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone as if he wasn’t fazed by an evil looking man clutching onto an iron pike. He moved to the second painting. “The Ghillie Dhu’s grove harnesses the power of the earth,” he said tapping the oily painting brush stroked with dark looming trees. He moved to the third portrait, framing a fiery eyed skinless horse with a half torso of man, sticking out of its saddle, covered in raw flesh. Blane flinched. “The third is the Nuckelavee, which guards the element of water.” He stepped toward the fourth painting. “Aye and the last is the element of fire done when the full moon aligns with the MääGord standing stones.”

  I felt the blood drain from my body.

  Blane backed away from the portraits. “The Nuckelavee is the task yer mother and yer great aunt failed at.”

  “Failed?” I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

  “Yer mother escaped,” he said flatly, “but yer great Aunt Rose was not as lucky.”

  Blane’s body stiffened at the mention of Aunt Rose.

  “How do you know this?” I asked facing him, gazing into his crystal blue eyes.

  His eyes averted from mine, hanging his head down low, fighting back her memory. “I was there,” he said, biting the inside of his lip.

  “You were there?” I repeated, doubting what he had said. He looked as if he was in his twenties, young and virile.

  Blane inhaled deeply, lifting his gaze to mine. “Aye, I am a Sentinel of Light,” he said, closing the distance between us.

  I blushed lightly, feeling an intense magnetic pull to him.

  “It is one of my duties to protect the Guardian of the Moon Pendant and the borders between the realms of Man and the Fae.”

  “You’re too young to have been around when Aunt Rose was here,” I informed him with a flirtatious giggle, stepping in, wanting to be closer to him, the heat from his body keeping me warm.

  “I was commissioned by Danú herself,” he said, leaning in, his thumb stroking my jaw bone and then gently lingering over my lower lip. “Five centuries ago I swore an oath, to her and I am bound by it until I die.”

  I felt a knot developing in my throat. The man of my dreams was older than the country I was from. How could he have been over 500 years old and look 25? I had a thousand questions lining up in my head, but the only thing I could ask was, “Why do you help us?”

  Blane smoothed back a wisp of my hair, sending shivers down my spine into the tips of my toes. “It is my oath. I am sworn to protect you, Guardian.” My body was on fire with intense emotions surging through me, I ached for him to kiss me.

  My heels lifted up, balancing on my tippy-toes, leaning up for a kiss, lips parted, inches away from his velvety lips, open for whatever was coming our way.

  “But,” he said, his whiskey breath fanning my face. I sighed, tasting his breath and drank it in. “We can ne’er be together, lass.” He pulled away from my quivering lips. “A Sentinel of Light is forbidden to marry a Guardian.”

  My heart split open. It felt as if a dagger was plunged deep into its core, slashing it around wildly, side to side, and digging in until it stopped beating.

  Blane backed away from me, removing the warmth of his body from my side.

  I suddenly felt the icy chill in the room.

  Blane raked a hand through his hair, his jaw tensed. “Sometimes it is not what we should do,” he stated, pausing briefly. “It is what we need to do.” His brilliant blue eyes flicked toward me. “I will accompany you for each task, Guardian.”

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling dumb for thinking that we could be something more.

  “You will have to charge the Moon Pendant yourself,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “I understand.” My head lowered, staring at my dirty boots.

  Unexpectedly, Blane shifted toward me, his hands bracketing my face, lifting my spiritless heart and gazing into my eyes. “Know this, Anabel. I will protect you with my life.”

  Blane leaned down and softly kissed my forehead.

  I felt his sincerity but once again my heart shattered, knowing that we could never be together as we returned into the Great Hall.

  Leigheas was crumpled in the corner, her body an ashy color, and the brilliant light within her had faded. Her body had weakened dramatically after Fergus’s healing.

  Blane crouched down next to her. “Thank you my friend,” he said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Hang in there, Leigheas. Sunrise will come soon enough, and you will be renewed again. Is the venom all gone?”

  “Can’t say,” she wheezed, lolling her head to the side, “there was more than I thought.”

  Fergus bolted upright from his wooden chair, freed from the heather pixies, his eyes squinting at Blane. “You complete and total tit,” he spat. “You left John behind!”

  “Yeah, Braveheart,” added Izzy, her arms banded around Fergus, trying to hold him back.

  I was beside myself. Why would Fergus and Izzy be so ridiculous? “Blane saved both of your lives,” I reminded them, fist balled on my hips.

  “Don’t you get it?” remarked Izzy, her eyes bulging, “John’s Màrmann food now!”

  “Those blood-sucking bastards,” Fergus said pissily, running his fingers over the red markings left behind by the heather pixie’s vines, imbedded deep into his skin.

  “I am sorry, lad,” said Blane guardedly. “There was nothing I could do.”

  “We grew up together as wee lads,” he whimpered, rubbing his neck. “And now he’s gone and me dad. He’s still in there, chained up to be food for that demon!”

  Blane sighed. I could tell he was frustrated. I knew he would never let anyone become food, nevertheless for a demon named, Lainahwyn.

  Blane turned away. “It’s time to go.”

  ♦

  Blane and I hiked ahead to the MacAlpin farmhouse while Izzy helped Fergus travel down the sodded hillside. He was still crippled by Lainahwyn’s venom and needed more time to make the journey. Besides, I’m sure he didn’t want Blane around him whatsoever.

  Plumface was busy disciplining Baldtoe when we emerged into the living room, her face stern, goblin-like, her brown eyes swollen, batting her black tarantula eyelashes, her lips coated in a thick red lipstick, her fist balled and locked to her hip, a tiny finger waving up and down. “Baldtoe,” she scolded.

  “Skullsplitter,” he reminded her with a half smile.

  He was donned in a jet black leotard, a rippling black cape hooked onto his tiny shoulders, a spiked silver collar leashed around his frail neck, his hair spiked up in a mohawk, his fingers dressed with silvery skull rings.

&
nbsp; “I will not have any of that nonsense!” she argued, flicking her finger up and down at him. “I named you Baldtoe, and that’s what I’m going to call you!”

  Baldtoe – I mean – Skullsplitter – rolled his eyes at his overly critical mother.

  “Don’t roll yer eyes at me young Trow!” she hissed as she began to lose control over her child. “I told you that you are not allowed to dress up like the lead singer from one of those heavy rock bands you like.”

  “I’m a warrior,” he corrected her, pursing his grey lips and swaying his head around on his head like a bubble head doll. “Not a rocker!”

  Granny’s luminous apparition lingered above the couch. "Come now, Plumface. He’s just trying to be like, Blane.”

  “The wee lads doing a good job,” declared Blane, laughing while Plumface pouted. “Go on, yerself!”

  Skullsplitter headed to one of the ceiling beams. An evil grin crawled over his face as his tiny body shimmied up the beam, boring his fingernails into the wood, creeping up the piece of timber until he reached the top.

  “Baldtoe!” shouted Plumface, watching him plant his black leather boots on the cross beam and straightening up.

  “Skullsplitter!” he hollered back down to his wee mother.

  “Are you listening to me?” Plumface snipped, cocking an eyebrow at him.

  “Nope,” snickered Skullsplitter, his arms open wide balancing himself on the ceiling beam.

  Blane laughed heartily. It was the first time I saw him so carefree. “The wee lad’s turning into a mighty warrior!”

  “Shut yer mouth!” squealed Plumface.

  Skullsplitter began to dance along the piece of timber, ever so high, shifting his weight from toe to toe, reveling in his mother’s dismay.

  “He’s flipping mad!” shrieked Plumface, her miniscule hands covering her mouth.

  His feet kicked up, and burst into a full tap dance along the dark beam of wood. “Are you going to come up and get me now?” he teased, thumping his tiny feet back and forth.

  “Will you come down from there?” begged Plumface.

  Skullsplitter threw his jazz hands up in the air, taunting her. “As you wish!” He pirouetted around on the back of his heels, his cape flapping in the air.

  Izzy and Fergus arrived just as Skullsplitter whirled around like a dreidel. He froze instantly into stone, a horrified look of dread etched across his face, motionless, his feet teetered on the edge of the beam, and then crashed down to the floor below.

  Blane dove fearlessly into the air, snatching Skullsplitter’s stone body up in time, just before he would have shattered into a million pieces.

  “What the bloody hell is that?” asked Fergus, gesturing to Skullsplitter’s stiff body.

  Blane landed on his side with a loud, oomph, and gently lowered Skullsplitter’s statue, placing him upright onto the floor.

  “And that one as well?” said Fergus, waving his finger at Plumface who had turned rock solid as well.

  “Trows,” stated Granny, letting out a loud aspiration of cloudy air.

  “What the bloody hell?” You’ve got ghosts, Trows and feckin’ William Wallace here.”

  Blane pushed out his chest, holding his ground. I wasn’t sure if he was flattered or insulted by Fergus calling him William Wallace.

  “Yup,” smirked Izzy, “welcome to the crazy MacAlpin farmhouse. Dead people and Fae are always welcome.”

  “Aye, the Trows came with the house,” mentioned Granny, her phantom eyes fixed on Fergus. “Turn to stone when a human sees them, unless, of course, one has the energy of the Moon Pendant pulsing through their veins. Then they can live and breathe normally around that human. If you don’t mind, could you close your eyes so they can leave the room?”

  “Fair enough,” said Fergus, eyeing Blane’s foreboding posture, stepping away from him as he closed his eyes along with Izzy.

  Plumface and Skullsplitter transformed into their flesh forms and shuffled away toward a small door hollowed into the wall.

  Fergus’s eye peeked open, hearing the patter of small feet, his curiosity getting the best of him. Skullsplitter’s foot was just slipping through the doorway when he snuck a look, instantly he turned to stone and he crashed down to the floor.

  Fergus squeezed his eyes tightly again. “Aye, that was me. Sorry about that, lad.”

  Skullsplitter returned to flesh, scampering away through his little portal, abruptly he turned, shooting out his tiny hand, displaying his middle finger proudly, giving Fergus the bird.

  Blane and I chortled.

  I had to admit the little Trow had chutzpah as they say in New York.

  “Now back to business,” said Granny, gesturing her transparent hand toward a miniature of the MääGord standing stones, centered on a large coffee table, below it laid a map of the Isle of Moon. “Anabel, you only have four days until the final charge with the midsummer’s full moon.” Granny paused, her vaporous eyes squinting at her, and then raising a feather eyebrow, “are you willing?”

  “What is it that I’m supposed to do, exactly?” I asked apprehensively, twirling my long hair around my finger.

  “Yeah,” Izzy said, her hand rubbing the left side of her waist as if she was still sore from her accident, “please enlighten us Americans and non-faery folk on what she’ll have to do.”

  Granny’s white astral body lowered down to the square table. “The Moon Pendant needs to be recharged with four elementals to have full power.”

  “Aye,” continued Blane informatively. “The Moon Pendant’s full charge will have control over each elemental: air, earth, water, and fire.”

  “Izzy, grab that flashlight,” requested Granny, “and place its light here.” Her wispy finger floating between two model stones of the replica. “For the final task, the moon will pass through the two main pillar stones on Friday night at precisely 11:11 p.m.”

  Izzy steadied the beam of light between the stones, casting a ray of light on the center slab.

  “That is the midsummer solstice,” continued Granny, her ectoplasm shimmering above the mini reproduction of the standing stones. “It is the only time to complete the final charge and to close the Portal.”

  “With the Portal closed the ley line’s energy will return to full strength,” added Blane, pointing to dotted lines cutting through the Isle of Moon map, “preventing the Fae to cross over into the realm of man.”

  Fergus cleared his throat loudly. “There’s just a wee bit of an issue we’re forgetting about.”

  “Go on,” nodded Granny.

  “What about the demon?” said Fergus alarmingly, throwing his arms out with his fingers splayed. “How do we prevent her from sneaking up on us and making us her latest fast food addiction?”

  Granny dipped her puffy eyes down at Fergus. “Good question. Rose and I had a low iron fence installed years ago. It borders the farmhouse. It encircles the property and runs down to the main road where a strong ley line runs. It still holds up. So, you’re safe here. I’d also suggest you all wear an iron necklace to protect yourself. Plumface has a few in that drawer over there.” Granny waved an airy hand toward a wooden desk.

  Izzy slid the drawer open, handing out a necklace to me.

  “Umm…” Granny winced, “all can wear one, except for you, Anabel. The Moon Pendant doesn’t like iron as well. Since, it is of the Otherworld.”

  Fergus slid the iron necklace on. Izzy handed another one to Blane.

  “No, lass,” he said, tapping his sporran hooked around his waist, “‘Tis made of iron. I have no need of your trinkets.”

  Izzy shrugged.

  “I can wear it on my wrists,” I said, snatching up one of the necklaces and coiling it around my wrist.

  “No!” hollered Granny.

  My whole body stiffened, all my muscles tensed at once, feeling the cold iron touch against my bare skin.

  “Get it off her!” ordered Granny.

  Blane quickly unraveled the necklace, tossing it back to Iz
zy.

  “No iron for you!” laughed Fergus, crossing his arms and shaking his head back and forth at me and then gazed at Granny and Blane. “What else do we need to know about the demon?”

  I took in a slow deep breath and then suddenly felt normal again.

  “Lainahwyn despises full on light,” added Blane, gazing down at Fergus. “‘Tis the reason she cowers away in that dark cave. She will only attack at night.”

  “Which is the only time,” said Granny directing her words toward Anabel, “you can do each elemental charge for the Moon Pendant.”

  A nervous energy rushed through my body, causing my eye to twitch. I was overwhelmed at all the tasks I needed to complete. I still had horrific visions of the portrait of the diabolical Nuckelavee in the castle’s library.

  I took in a deep breath and gulped. “And I have to do that?”

  Izzy’s face raged. “Yeah, you moron! Or we’re all toast!”

  “I thought,” I said hesitatingly, my brain becoming sluggish, “I was going to give Izzy the Moon Pendant after the first task?”

  “I know,” said Granny enlighteningly, “that’s what Blane had said, but it’s not a guarantee, Anabel. The Moon Pendant is fickle. It may or may not let you go.”

  My hopes and dreams of becoming a wife, mother and doctor flashed before my eyes. How could I possibly finish any of these tasks – four deadly tasks – in four days?

  My throat tightened, suppressing back a waterfall of tears.

  Granny’s white hazy face floated before me, her opaque eyes fixed on me. “I need to know,” she said resolutely, “that you are fully committed to this to the bitter end.”

  Izzy snickered out of the side of her mouth. “Come on,” she laughed, “she’s not gonna do it. Look at her. Her royal highness is about to burst open like a fire hydrant.”

  Not only was I frightened to death, but my lovely sister, Izzy was mocking me as well. A surging heat ran through my veins, making my blood begin to boil.

  “You see me neck, lass?” spat Fergus, pointing his index finger to a thick green scar carved into his neck. “Do you remember what she did to me and to John? When that blood-sucking demon gets loose she’s gonna inject her venom into every feckin’ person on this planet and suck ‘em dry.”