by Candace Sams
Not being able to pin his feelings down more precisely than that, he dismissed the sensation as his own response to someone who looked like they were in very good health. Something that had been denied him for a long time. While he was better physically right now, something about his mental state was beginning to trouble him. There was a dark hole in his thoughts whenever he pictured the future, and that scared him as much as his physical symptoms. Before the fear could escalate, he emptied his mind, determined to try to get a good night's rest.
***
Later that night, Afton stood outside the old farmhouse, closed her eyes and tried to gain a sense of her surroundings. She could still feel the evil that had been present on this beautiful farm. It was readily apparent because the source wasn't natural. It didn't fit with everything else. Its presence was much like a thorn on the land, a shard of broken glass tearing at the earth's crust. It was an abominable thing.
She opened her eyes and turned to face the bedroom in which she knew Blain slept. "Be at peace. Help is here, Blain. We won't let whoever this is destroy you. Whatever it takes, we'll save you. Even if we have to fight the blackest evil on earth." She shuddered, because even as she finished the softly spoken promise, she felt strands of a horrible evil creeping toward them all.
Three
"What smells so good? Hugh, are you actually baking something?" Blain asked as he walked into the kitchen and poured coffee into a large mug. The appetite he'd felt deserting him had suddenly reappeared with a vengeance.
"No, lad. Afton started muffins baking for breakfast. She's outside looking around."
Blain looked at his watch. It wasn't even five o'clock in the morning. What in the world was the girl doing up so early, and what was she doing outside? The air had a chill to it this time of day.
"You mean she flew in all the way from England yesterday and got up this early? What's wrong with her?" Blain shook his head, deciding to go find her. Just as he was heading for the door, Afton walked in. She was wearing a floral print shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It was neatly tucked into blue jeans, and she her small feet were shod in hiking boots. Her shining hair was pulled up into a high pony tail, and she looked all of eighteen. "What in the world are you doing up? And baking, too?" Blain wondered how she could look so well rested and gorgeous at such an early hour. She was as bright and open as a Morning Glory. All blue-eyed and ready to greet the day. Her appearance reminded him that he had a packet of those particular flower seeds he needed to plant. And why did he feel the need to wrap his arms around her and hold her? Every time she got close to him, he wanted her closer.
Afton immediately looked toward Hugh for some backup, but he just smiled and left her floundering. Blain wasn't supposed to know she'd been in the garden looking for anything that didn't belong—dead wood with figure carvings, noxious herbs which had been bundled, or cloth dolls that could be used in black magic. Hexes that would harm or sicken the very man who now stood before her. Flustered by his appearance, coupled with his questions, she swallowed hard and made something up.
"I hope you don't mind, but I found blueberries in the fridge, and I love blueberry muffins. I always get up early back home. There's so much to see and do."
She knew she was babbling, but she wasn't good at making things up on the spur of the moment. No one had prepared her for this, and Hugh wasn't helping a bit. He was the one who had instructed her to go look for the talismans in the backyard in the first place. She was supposed to have been replacing anything evil she might find with articles of protection, like yew, oak and ash branches. So far, she hadn't found any hexes. But she suddenly remembered the one yew branch sticking out of her back pocket, and that made her even more nervous. Blain would certainly notice it.
Blain watched Afton move about the kitchen, setting the table for breakfast. He listened to her bright chatter with suspicion. If ever anyone was hiding something, it was the pretty English woman skittering around his kitchen and trying to force small talk. She also had a yew branch stuck in her back pocket, but there wasn't a yew tree anywhere near his yard. Something weird was up. But he kept silent and amused himself by watching her cook and listening to her chatter. Strangely, Rhiannon came to mind, and he didn't know why. Rhi wouldn't be caught out of bed before noon if she could help it. Why he'd think of that at this precise moment was absurd. Comparing the two women was like comparing the sun to the moon.
"I'm a bit confused as to why you were outside. You couldn't see anything out there. It's still dark," Blain pointed out.
"Oh, I was just getting a feel for the place. You know, listening to the last of the night animals and the first sound of birds," Afton replied, keeping her gaze averted. Every lie she told sounded so stupid. Why wouldn't Hugh say something?
Blain looked at Hugh when she topped off his coffee cup and motioned for him to sit down at the table. Whatever was really going on, Hugh was in on it. His face was a smiling mask. What the hell were they up to?
"Oh, these came out well. I wasn't sure they would because I'm baking in an oven I'm not used to. We have different settings on them in England." Afton babbled as she pulled a tray of huge blueberry muffins out of the oven and began to pop them into a bread basket.
Despite all the ridiculous subterfuge, Blain's mouth began to water and his stomach growled at the wonderful smell.
"You don't mind do you?" Afton turned to the men and placed the basket on the table in front of them.
"Pardon?" Blain looked at her wondering what in hell she was talking about. For the moment, he wanted nothing more than to dive into the muffins, slather them with butter and reach for more
"That I've used your oven. I love to bake. You don't mind, do you?" She repeated and stopped to wait for his answer. She nervously twisted her fingers together, caught him watching the small gesture, and quickly put her hands behind her back.
"No. Of course not. It's just that I hope you didn't think you had to get up and make breakfast. You're a guest, and it's really early." When she began to babble again, Blain became even more suspicious. Clearly she wasn't used to hiding things, and it didn't come naturally. He'd love nothing more than to get her alone and question her. Or just get her alone.
"Good morning, everyone. It's going to be a lovely day, isn't it?" Shayla walked into the kitchen wearing a long skirt and long-sleeved blouse in matching soft blue shades.
Blain looked her over and likened her quick, graceful movements to those of a butterfly. Especially in the blue, floating material she wore. It was as though the woman was trying to present herself as airy and flighty. Something told him otherwise, and he closely watched as Shayla took a seat next to Hugh. He saw Afton pull the yew branch out of her back jeans pocket, nervously look for a place to put it, then stick it behind some crockery At the same moment, he saw Shayla nod at the younger woman as if some secret message had passed between them. Things were getting more intriguing by the moment, and Blain began to wonder what Shayla's story was.
Afton placed a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice on the table, along with a plate of cheese. Then she opened the refrigerator and pulled out an appetizing bowl of freshly cut fruit.
Blain continued to watch the other three people. When they talked, they were congenial, but he had the impression there was some secret scheme going on to which he wasn't supposed to be a party. And it wasn't even being cleverly hidden. There were little, furtive looks and gestures that couldn't possibly be normal.
"Okay. What's up?" he finally asked.
Shayla, Hugh and Afton stopped what they were doing and looked at him.
"Whatever are you talking about?" Hugh asked.
Blain let out a frustrated sigh, shook his head and shot them each a suspicious glance. "I'm gonna eat my breakfast and go to work. Since I don't have a decoder ring, I'll assume I'm not a member of the club."
Afton guiltily lowered her gaze and turned away.
Hugh cleared his throat and muttered something unintelligible.
Shayla met Blain's stare, but she said nothing.
"Okay. Whatever you're up to, I guess you'll let me in on it when you're ready. I'm not as clueless as you seem to think. I may be big, but I'm not stupid," Blain advised. He kept his gaze on his coffee cup or plate for the remainder of breakfast. Then he silently got up and left the kitchen.
After she was sure he was gone, Afton turned to the two older Druids. "I'm sorry. He has a fairy's acuity, even though he hasn't a clue about his heritage. I think all my incessant talking is making him even more suspicious.
"That's all right, my dear," Shayla said, as she thoughtfully
rubbed her chin, "That intuition could save his life one day."
***
Hours later, Blain was mending a fence when it dawned on him that he felt better than he had in a long time. The chronic weariness he'd suffered seemed to have abated.
He hammered a nail into a fence post, smiled and began to whistle. As he bent to retrieve another nail, he glanced toward the bundle of poisonous herbs which had been tied with black yarn, a small piece of new rope with knots tied in it, and the little pictograph carved into bark. They lay at his feet, ready to be burned. All the strange objects had been gathered from his early morning inspection of the farm and its surroundings.
Deciding to get on with that chore, he cleared a small space for a fire and threw all the objects into the space. As soon as he put a match to them and the flames began to rise, the illness that lingered with him diminished even more. It was an odd coincidence that left him puzzled and again questioning his sanity. Finding the superstitious items around his farm was odd, but this was New England. There were folk living here who still believed in the power of hexes, omens and the like. It did bother him, however, that the stuff was on his property and near his work area. When he went out at night again, he'd make sure to keep a wary eye out for trespassers.
He turned to pull off a broken fence rail and saw Afton approaching. He could hardly miss her, and he felt his eyes widen in surprise. There was a cow, her calf and two sheep following the woman. He grinned as the thought of the Pied Piper came to mind. And what a pretty piper she made. The sun lit her up even brighter, if that was possible. Just like a sunflower.
"What's going on?" Blain asked, thinking she had some kind of animal food in the basket she carried. Why else would the livestock be following her like a litter of puppies?
"I brought you some lunch. It's past midday, and when you didn't come back to the house, I thought you'd be hungry." She flashed a brilliant smile at him, and he readily responded by smiling back.
He watched as she put the basket on the tailgate of his truck and pulled out some sandwiches. His mouth was already watering. "I'm starved, and you didn't have to do this, you know."
"I don't mind. Besides, walking out here gave me an excuse to see more of the farm. You have the most lovely animals. They're very well cared for." She stopped and stared at the small fire.
When Blain saw her gaze linger on the flames and their fuel, he watched her closely.
"What's that for?" She pointed at the contained fire pit.
"Just burning some trash. You know. Vines, rotting wood. Things that will catch fire if I don't keep them picked up."
Afton chewed on her lower lip as she saw the last of the hex mark, carved into oak bark, burn away. She took a deep breath and tried not to show the fear she felt.
Blain knew the woman had either seen something like what he was burning, or she'd been told what the objects meant. "What's wrong, Afton? It's just a fire."
She immediately took her eyes off the small blaze and stared at him.
"Want to tell me what's going on?" he asked and pulled off his work gloves.
"W-what are you talking about?" she responded, and he heard the fear in her voice.
Blain took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Clearly, she didn't want to talk about what she'd seen in the fire. He began to understand what a cop must feel like at the scene of a crime where no one would say anything. He let the matter drop and turned his attention to the animals surrounding her. "What did you feed them to make them follow you around like this?"
She stared at him, her expression confused.
"The animals, Afton."
She shook her head as if the slight motion could clear it. "Um, nothing. They just followed me. I...I made cucumber and tomato sandwiches. Hugh said you told him your mother used to make them."
Blain looked at her, looked at the sandwich she handed him, then looked at the livestock vying for her attention. It was as if the animals hung on every gesture she made. He took the sandwich, bit into it and knew it was the best he'd ever eaten. There were some unusual herbs in the mayonnaise, and he immediately felt as if his appetite had doubled. He watched as she gently shooed the animals back toward the barn. Though they backed away, the livestock stayed near.
"Go on now. I'll come pet you later," she told them softly and laid a gentle hand on each of their heads.
To Blain's surprise, they turned in unison and began to walk back in the direction from which they'd come. That was really weird. But so far, everything about Afton was a little strange. The same went for her employer, the dauntless Ms. Gallagher. They'd been at the farm less than twenty-four hours, and Blain was certain neither of them was normal.
"Were you raised on a farm?" he asked as he finished off the sandwich.
"I grew up around animals," she said. "I love them. I can tell you do, too."
"You can, huh? How did you figure that out?"
"They're happy and well kept. By the way, when will the foal be born?" she asked as she handed him a cup of lemonade from a thermos.
Blain almost choked. He swallowed the rest of his sandwich with difficulty. His mare wasn't even showing yet. The veterinarian had only just determined she was carrying a foal.
"How did you know that? No one knows about her except me and the vet. Not even Hugh." He watched her closely. His intuition didn't give him any uncomfortable vibes, but Afton O'Malley needed to start answering some questions.
"I told you I grew up around animals. My guess is that she's early along, and she'll probably foal late. Well, you're very busy, and I should let you get back to work. I promised to help Shayla with something." She smiled, handed him the last of the sandwiches and walked away.
Blain felt as if he'd had a rug pulled out from under him. She knew too much, tried to act like she didn't, and was doing her level best to actually say nothing of consequence. Who was this girl? What was her experience with animals and superstitious objects? He ran a hand through his hair, unable to resume his work until she was out of sight.
***
Afton had done exactly as Shayla told her, but it felt like they were moving too fast. Blain's expression had been open and friendly at first. Now, it was down right suspicious. She could sense the man staring at her as she walked away. Like most Druids, she'd always had a close relationship with animals. Shayla had sent her to expose Blain to some of the power her kind had in that regard. However, she couldn't help wondering why the Sorceress didn't just come right out and tell Blain he was half fairy and half Druid, and that a black conjurer was trying to harm him for some unknown reason.
Of course, he wouldn't believe them, and he might even ask them to leave. But that would be better than antagonizing him and playing mind games with the man. He'd probably be wondering about her knowledge of the mare's condition all day long. Like many of the Order, she could sense renewal. New life carried great power. All she'd had to do was lay her hand upon the mare's flank to feel the tiny life growing inside.
The worst part of leading the animals around and mentioning the foal was that Blain would think the incident was completely abnormal. And she was pretty certain she hadn't been able to hide her surprise at having caught him burning some evil talismans. His sense of disturbance would be aimed at her, and she didn't want his disapproval. She wanted him to trust her and consider her a friend.
"Who am
I kidding," she quietly mused. "He's gorgeous, and I want him. Period." But she knew he didn't share her feelings. When she'd walked away from him, she'd felt like she had a target on her back. He might never trust her.
***
After driving back to the farmhouse, Blain stopped to put away some tools in a nearby shed. A movement in the woods caught his attention. He crept around the shed in hopes of catching whoever had been sneaking around on his land and leaving strange objects. What he saw amazed him. He ducked behind some blueberry bushes and watched Shayla Gallagher gathering wild herbs and putting them in a basket. She was dressed in some kind of long white robe. The same kind he'd imagined Afton wearing when they'd been introduced. Wanting to keep his presence a secret, Blain quietly backed away. As he did so, the older woman turned in his direction. He could almost swear she knew he was present. He continued to back away and quickly left. The incident had him questioning not only his own sanity, but the sanity of those living in his house.
Near supper, he wanted to believe his imagination was working overtime, especially in regards to his guests and all the strange objects he'd found. But he had a sense of weird foreboding that was different from anything he'd known, and the feeling had nothing to do with his physical afflictions. In fact, the illness that had been ravaging him seemed to be gone, but he still felt as if something wasn't right.
Then he found more bundles of herbs on the window sills of the barn and several more on the sills of the house. He wasn't sure who had put them there or why, but the herbs in these new bundles weren't poisonous, as previous bundles had been. They weren't hemlock or stinging nettle. Instead, harmless yarrow and mint had been bundled with lavender and rosemary.
