Oak & Mistletoe

by McCauley, J. Z. N.

  Catherine’s eyes teared up and she pulled her knees up to her chest. Danny had gone off alone, and with a concussion no less. She prayed silently that he would be okay.

  Bowen left her to sit quietly for a time to get her bearings. When he himself had cooled down a bit, he drew closer. “Can you keep going?” he asked, holding both his hands out. She reached up as he pulled her to her feet.

  “Bowen, I’m worried about him,” she said sadly.

  “I know, I am too. But he left us. There isn’t anything we can do right now that won’t put you in danger too.”

  Catherine blinked the tears from her eyes. Then she looked at the chiseled face imploring her, and simply nodded in agreement. He gently kept one of her hands in his, and helped her move away. The two left the old campsite and continued on their way, retracing their steps back to the parked car.

  *

  It was twilight, and the small group of followers who had been trapped within the caves of Ireland for centuries with Conall still stuck together. At first, they kept to the shadows and thickly wooded areas. After some time passed, they edged into the open fields near towns. However, when Conall sent them out to steal food, or useful tools, they couldn’t bring themselves to stay away long. This proved inefficient since they wouldn’t get enough from one trip, and they couldn’t split up individually, only in small groups.

  When the followers would leave, anxiety spread through their bones with every step they took. They had forgotten the feeling of grass under their feet, and the warmth or cold of fresh air. Everything made them uncomfortable, and they felt stuck, even longing to return to the caves. The priesthood they had fought was no more. But they followed Conall still. His ravings and threats made them cower before him, showering him with promises of loyalty for fear he would otherwise kill them. No one spoke against Conall, no one dared. They couldn’t trust each other not to betray them. The many groups of ancient druid rebels were tired, some of life, some of the cause, and some of Conall. Each group wanted different things from when it all began. Only the ones locked in the stone cells with Conall felt completely loyal. Still the fear remained ever present.

  The rebel groups combined now to make two separate armies, one from the south and one from the north. They were going to meet soon to join forces and devour everything. No one would see them coming. Conall cherished this thought, and the thought of dragging Bowen through it all, to watch him despair. The thought made him giddy as he gnawed on a meat-covered bone, licking the grease from his lips as he watched his followers fanning out from the fire to the deep woods.

  “Conall,” a short gruff man appeared next to him.

  Conall was happy, and leaned an elbow on one boney knee as he looked up. “What?” he said with a toothy grin.

  “We didn’t find Bowen, or the woman,” the man said nervously.

  Conall’s eyes narrowed. “You . . .”

  After killing the twin to Bowen’s woman, and leaving them to journey back to the land of their ancient home and site of war, Conall left the gruff man with a few other loyal fighters to keep watch over Bowen. He didn’t want to have to scour the land for Bowen when it came time to complete his ultimate revenge.

  Conall swallowed the chewed meat he had pushed to one side of his mouth. “You didn’t follow them?”

  “We did—”

  “Then how did you lose them!” Conall shouted.

  “They had plans, as you assumed, but when we burned their home they left before we could learn where they were going,” the man bowed his head in submission.

  “You simply must be an idiot,” Conall quietly stated. Then he stood up and threw his food into the fire. “They obviously went to find the staff.” He scratched his arm at the phantom feeling of an insect.

  “We’ll go now—”

  “No, you fool, by this time they should have already arrived.” he turned back to hover over the gruff man who was now wringing his hands. “I’ll deal with this myself,” Conall said.

  The man wasn’t sure if he was dismissed. Conall, irritated by his lingering, pushed his face away with a large greased hand. The man let out a muffled cry of pain, but didn’t fight back. Conall released him with one last shove which sent him bouncing off a trunk to fall unconscious to the ground.

  His appetite returning, Conall went back to eat the last piece of meat. A follower he hadn’t seen since before the seclusion in the caves had unfortunately taken the last of the carcass meat for himself. The man realized his mistake and reached out to give it to Conall.

  Conall stood in front of him with a frown smeared across his face. He was reminded how everything had been taken away from him, and his body swelled with rage. Conall snatched the bone while simultaneously kicking the man off his feet. His head turned sideways flat in the dirt. Conall then stomped his heel into the man’s jaw. The victim flailed and screamed as his counterparts went about unfazed. Conall ground his heel down harder. He did not handle people taking his things well.

  *

  Catherine’s eyes opened to see the roof of Bella’s car. The car was moving and she turned her head to see Bowen driving. She blinked a few times, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes before pushing herself up with her hands to a sitting position and took in the passing landscape. The sun streamed brilliantly. Catherine vaguely remembered the long, all night trek back to the car. By dawn they had finally reached it. She practically fell into the back of the car, and drifted into a deep sleep until now.

  “Where are we?” she asked hoarsely, then coughed to clear her throat, blushing.

  “Far away from the mountain,” Bowen answered with a smirk, “I wanted to put some distance between us since we don’t know if the hunter will come back.”

  “Why would he come back? The staff ’s pieces are scattered all over his floor.”

  Bowen shrugged, “I just wanted to be cautious.”

  “Have you been driving the whole time?”

  “Yes.”

  Catherine stayed quiet for a while as she watched the edges of the land shift against the sky. She enjoyed being the passenger for just this reason. When current problems crawled back into her thoughts, she sighed and turned to Bowen. “So where are we going?”

  “I don’t know the current name, but the general region of my home. I know a few villages popped up, I just don’t know which the ruins are in.”

  “In all these years you never went back?” she asked.

  “I couldn’t go near it, while under the curse.”

  Catherine was confused. “You couldn’t?”

  “It’s hard to explain. There was a kind of barrier, invisible, stopping me if I came too close. So as time passed, and the land changed with it . . . I can’t be sure of the precise location.”

  “Hmm. How do you plan to find out?”

  Bowen frowned a bit. “We’ll have to investigate.”

  “Ah, some digging,” she said to herself, then louder “We’re not going to have to dig, are we?” Catherine sat up straighter, worried.

  Bowen laughed as he saw her expression in the rear view mirror, “No, we don’t exactly have the ability to do that.”

  “What’s your plan if everything is buried?”

  “Nothing. There is no clear path now, just a chance. But I can’t give up, I have to try.” He grit his teeth.

  Some time passed, and the scenery outside turned into a rural dirt road winding through thick woods, with occasional bungalows and the like in between. The sky was clouded over, making the drive a gloomy one all of the sudden. Catherine missed the sun now, and turned to watch the road ahead. Bowen looked at her in the mirror. They needed to talk. He pulled the car over and turned in his seat.

  “I’m sorry about Danny,” he said.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said, then wrinkled her face. “Stop apologizing for things you can’t control. It’s my idiot brother’s fault for going after her.”

  Bowen bobbed his head a bit in agreement, but didn’t say anything more. “Oh!�
�� he said, then got out of the car. Catherine wondered what he was doing. He walked around to the back and shuffled through the storage.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “I’m sure there’s one in here . . .” he mumbled.

  “One what?” she said to herself.

  “Aha!” Bowen exclaimed in triumph, and hurried to Catherine’s side, opening her door to reveal a first aid kit.

  “Give me your hands,” he ordered kindly, and she did so.

  Wiping the dirt and grime off the cuts was excruciating, though Catherine never minded the sting of disinfectants. Soon she was all bandaged thanks to the skilled hands of the ancient doctor.

  “I actually was the one who bought this for Bella,” she pointed at the first aid kit. “It was a gift for when she went hiking, in case of emergency. Ironic that I’m the only one to use it,” she added. She had noticed that he had to break the sealed wrapping to open it.

  “Yes, well, I’m glad it was here,” he said, and stood up with a look of accomplishment across his face.

  Catherine smiled up at him, “Thank you.”

  “It’s in me to help anyone hurt if I can,” he said. His words reminded Catherine of the Hippocratic Oath. She felt safe in his care, though not only because of his convictions as a doctor. Bowen leaned down suddenly, their faces intimately close.

  He gave her an unwavering look, and Catherine found herself pulled in by the strong gaze, unable to look away. “But it’s also in me to help you,” his voice was deep and soothing. Though she felt relaxed with him, she also felt self-conscious. She fidgeted slightly, unsure what to say. “No need to thank me,” he said seriously.

  Catherine was confused and struggled to hide it. Bowen could see every movement of her face, but he didn’t seem to mind. The corner of his mouth twitched and then he pulled himself back. She missed inhaling his warm breath. Catherine stared, dazed, straight ahead. She felt oddly calm and watched while green leaves tossed around their branches as a breeze swept through, tossing her red hair into her eyes. As she pushed it away, she caught sight of something in the woods. Suddenly, she stiffened like a board.

  Bowen had sensed something wasn’t right, and was already alarmed. He stayed still, trying to gauge the danger.

  “Bear,” Catherine could barely mouth.

  The first aid kit fell out of his hands as Bowen threw himself towards her. Pulling the car door shut behind him as he flung Catherine’s legs up to push her inside the car, the door slammed just as the bear was upon them. Catherine’s stomach lurched, for the millionth time, and she began to panic. Before them was an incredible creature of nature, with powerful claws that easily reached four inches long. It towered above them on its hind legs. The brown bear was terrifying as it gave its animal cry, and Catherine could see a familiar rage in the dark and frightening eyes.

  There was no time to lose. The bear could destroy the car and them inside it at any moment. The bear lunged again, and Catherine screamed as Bowen scrambled to climb over the seats to the driver’s seat, but in the process knocked hard against the door and window. The bear seemed to be toying with them. It growled and looked directly at Catherine a few times before surveying its enemies. The animal rocked the car a few more times, while Bowen struggled. But finally Bowen started the car and tried to drive it.

  “Go!” Catherine shouted.

  “I’m trying!” he said, “It won’t go!”

  They both watched the bear, hoping it wouldn’t break through. Finally, the bear pulled itself off, and Bowen instantly sped away. Looking back, Catherine could see the bear roar wildly as it turned away and ran off back through the trees.

  Catherine found her voice. “I thought bears were extinct in Ireland?!”

  “They are.”

  After nervously biting on the tips of her fingers, she pulled her hand away from her face. “Then . . . how?”

  Bowen didn’t reply, he just drove. A brown bear suddenly back and roaming free in Ireland, and at that size? He wondered how and where it could have come from, and why it was attacking them.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WITH EVERYTHING THAT had happened, it seemed like ages since Kathleen’s death. Still, Catherine held her close in her thoughts, hidden away from the people around her. Keeping busy, all the while getting closer to trapping Conall allowed her to feel at least the illusion of peace.

  The group, now couple, had been on their journey for days. Catherine had thought it a doomed quest, but trusted that following Bowen would somehow make everything work out for the best. During her most down moments all she really wanted was to kill Conall. When she was blinded by this need, she didn’t care what happened to the rest of his followers. She would fantasize about different ways to do it. She’d find herself hoping for the chance to kill him before they cast the curse, but her hopes were quickly dashed by the memory of his strength. It didn’t matter what happened to her; she just needed to find a way to beat him. She suspected Bowen knew what she wanted. Catherine disliked this part of herself. She hated that it was consuming her, like a blackness creeping over her with each passing day. But if she tried to let go she would begin to unravel. So she held on tighter, staying the path darkly lain out for her.

  Bowen led the way. They had tarried in a few places as Catherine used cash from her steadily emptying wallet to find and pay for them. Bella always had some stashed in the glove compartment for gas, but that too was decreasing as they drove from one small village to the next.

  It was the morning in a small, mostly empty pub, and Bowen was sitting alone at a table for two. The room they stayed in the night before was located upstairs, and Catherine had slept in. Bowen was an early riser, and whenever he wasn’t watching over her as she slept, he would survey the area as best he could from outside. Here he enjoyed sitting where drinks and quiet were provided in the early hours. He watched the news playing on a small television with the volume setting on low, and it left him thinking.

  The news reported about a recent upswing in crime. These crimes were committed during broad daylight by “strangely clothed people.” But clearly, the druids had ceased shortly after they started. The public concluded that the unsolved crimes were simply disgruntled youth or gang-related. Bowen assumed the inactivity meant they must have all united. Conall had changed their tactics. Crimes continued on, some by the normal populace, but there were also strange stories of animals or food gone missing. Some vanished before the eyes of their owner. Amongst small towns, people would gossip, and suddenly superstitions would come out of the woodwork.

  Bowen was also confused by the vanishing items. At first, he wondered what they were making because it was clear they were, in fact, making something. Then he figured it was for weapons. But something still wasn’t settling in his mind. He couldn’t understand how they were doing all of this. He knew these people were fighters and people of many trades. Bowen flinched in his seat. Magic.

  Conall must have learned before the curse, enough to build on throughout the centuries. Or else some of his followers had been involved in the druid order outside of the priesthood that dabbled in those studies. Bowen himself had learned only what was needed to draw on herbs with his healing. However, he never used it, or studied further than he needed to do his work. If Conall knew any magic, or had it at his disposal on any level, this was worrisome to Bowen. But that must be it; it was the only thing that explained the items vanishing in plain sight.

  Bowen recalled the times he had gone to the rock to check on Conall. During Conall’s fits, sometimes Bowen felt the rock shake impossibly and small pieces crumble from up high. He always thought it was his imagination, his fear of Conall’s escape getting to him, and he would shake it off. But maybe his inhuman strength was real. Conall had killed Kathleen with such physical ease, as if she was a twig. No man with normal strength should have such power. It hadn’t occurred to Bowen since his focus had been on Catherine.

  Catherine entered just then. She looked her usual fresh self in
the morning, cheeks slightly pink from the scrubbing of her face for the start of the day. Her hair was pulled back into a loose bun. Bowen thought it looked nice. He grinned to himself, remembering that he always thought she looked nice. Catherine saw his grin, and blushed as she went to get some breakfast. But Bowen’s face quickly became like stone, hard and still. He still needed to mull over the bear incident.

  While Catherine ate and sipped her tea, she worried about Danny. One of the worst things was knowing he couldn’t get in touch with her. However, she found comfort in the fact that he knew how to contact Bella. Catherine held onto that, hoping she would hear from her brother soon. Afterward, excusing herself from the table, she used a public phone to call her friend to check in.

  Bella sounded concerned but relieved to hear Catherine’s voice on the other line. She understood Catherine couldn’t tell her much, but she still had questions. “Are you okay?”

  Catherine joggled her head back and forth, “I’m surviving . . .”

  “Is my car okay?” Bella couldn’t help but ask.

  Catherine smiled into the phone, “Yes, it’s—” she stopped with a wince at the memory of the bear. “Well . . . there was a bear, but I think it’s just a few dents.”

  “A bear?!” Bella paused then said slowly, “There aren’t any bears in Ireland.”

  “I know, it doesn’t make sense, but I’m telling you the truth.”

  Bella sighed with disbelief.

  “I’ll fix the car when all of this is over, okay?” Silence.

  “Bella?” Catherine asked when she didn’t hear a response, worried she was too angry to answer.

  “Oh, sorry! I was nodding. Of course. Just . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful.”

  “The car will be fine.”

  “No, I mean you,” corrected Bella.

  “I promise I’ll be as careful as I can be,” Catherine replied. She knew Bella wouldn’t feel reassured by that, but it was the best she could do right now.

  The call ended and she returned to Bowen.