Catherine walked over to the table as Mary brought an old book over to lay carefully flat. The book was so ancient and worn that the pages were no longer bound. She motioned for Catherine to stand close. Mary’s glasses were on the tip of her nose as she traced the inked page with her finger.
“Look here,” she pointed.
“I can’t read that . . .” Catherine said after taking a look. The page was filled with merely scribbles and runes, and what appeared at first glance to be Latin in certain sections. If in a language she could read, she would have loved to have her old reading glasses back to study it.
Mary chuckled at her forgetfulness, “I’m sorry, I forget. It says here,” and she traced her finger to translate word by word “that when teachings are forgotten, dead, and buried, one must go to the wee folk,” she looked up from the book to see Catherine’s startled face.
“The wee folk? That’s . . . fairies?”
“Why, yes, dear,” the old woman said matter of fact, without a glimmer of surprise.
“But . . . so . . . they exist then?”
“Well, you don’t expect all myths to be false, do you?”
“I suppose not,” Catherine replied, her eyebrows still raised on her forehead. “Aren’t they thought to be scary, even evil, creatures?”
“Aye.”
“Oh . . .”
Mary chuckled, “No need to be afraid, Caty, no not one bit.” She put her glasses on her head.
“Why ever not?” Catherine said becoming agitated.
“If you seek them, they will welcome you and do as you request,” Mary said.
“Why would you think that?” Catherine said confused, and tapped her forefinger on the table, ridding herself of the blast of nervous energy.
“I know. They won’t harm you specifically. You’re one of precious few in the world left who can harness their powers. If you do this, they will be stronger for it,” she answered.
“Enacting the curse is their power?”
“No, no it’s your power you’re using, but its force will bring them strength. They connect and feed off of it. That, and the cosmos dear,” Mary said reflectively.
“The cosmos . . .”
“Yes, the moon, the stars. Everything is connected you know. The moon gives our women strength too,” Mary said.
Catherine blinked a few times before saying “And to men?”
“Oh no, not to men. No, men get their strength from us . . . the good men anyway,” she added, nodding to herself.
Catherine shook her head quickly, “How do you know all of this?”
“Read Caty, read.”
Catherine sighed. “How do I find the fairies then?” she asked, defeated.
“The wee folk dear. Some of them don’t like to be called ‘fairies,’” Mary warned.
“Oh, okay, well how do I find them?”
“Your inner spirit will guide you.”
“Mary, what does that mean?”
“It means you need to go search for yourself. I cannot tell you where to find them, just that you need to,” Mary answered.
Catherine gave a confused slight nod in response, and with a tight jaw she turned away.
“Be warned, you must go alone. Do not take the druid boy with you,” Mary said as she swept her forefinger through the air in one motion for emphasis.
Catherine looked back at her shakily. She tried to smile unsuccessfully before leaving the room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CATHERINE STOOD ALONE in the cottage’s small living room, leaning against the wall. Trying to relax she closed her eyes and thought about the day. How could she possibly find the wee folk alone? She stepped into the sun, which made her feel warm and cozy. Her mind wandered to her childhood house with the surrounding gates, and her family name in bold capital letters ‘GREEN.’ She could remember the sound the gates made when swinging open, and the smell of the freshly cut grass in her nose.
But then her thoughts shifted to fields of green, how they seemed to go on and on until they disappeared into the horizon. She remembered running through and the smell of the overgrown grass, brush, and trees. The mix stayed with her, and the green made her feel safe. Bowen’s eyes were green. They pulled her in. A deep color that reminded her of the ocean depths, and the vibrant green fields she loved. When the ocean was calm, it was light and still. When a storm came it grew darker in alarm. The green fields were the same. Rhythmic. His green did not match any one green. She had never seen it before.
Catherine heard the rain pattering against the house and the window. Thinking of Bowen, she longed to see him. As she opened her eyes, she gasped. Bowen stood right in front of her, staring. He smiled at her funny reaction. She didn’t say anything but glared briefly back.
Bowen’s deep and mesmerizing eyes looked like a calming pool of liquid green. She blushed, remembering her daydream, though she didn’t feel awkward as she usually did. The chemistry they shared was something she couldn’t resist. They both had strong personalities, and clashed on occasion, but that only brought out more of the connection they felt to each other. Catherine felt she could be herself with him. She boldly reached out to run her fingers through the curly soft locks on his head. Bowen slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her to him.
Catherine sighed happily. But doubt and fear still plagued her. Bowen saw her expression change, and tensed his shoulders. “What is it?” he asked.
“I never want to lose you,” she answered.
Bowen’s shoulders relaxed. “You’ll never lose me. You have all of me. You’ve always had me, even when you didn’t know it,” he said leaning down slightly, his nose touching hers.
“I never didn’t want you,” she said. “But how do I keep you?”
He took her hand away from his shoulder and put it on her chest where her heart beat steadily, “In there.”
“But the curse, it’ll take you away. I’ll have to leave here and never see you again,” she said, her brow wrinkling with anxiety.
Bowen didn’t want to dwell on that while he could still see her. “Don’t think about that now . . . I’ve waited for you to let me hold you like this for a long time,” he said softly. Catherine went on the tips of her toes and kissed Bowen lightly on the cheek. He held her there and tentatively brushed his lips over hers. When she didn’t resist, Bowen kissed her tenderly, and he felt her give into it.
Bowen was like air to Catherine. She needed him.
The pattering of rain stopped, and soon Mary’s voice was heard from the garden outside. “I’ve got fresh cucumbers ready for brunch, you two!”
Reluctantly they pulled away from the kiss, and both smiled at each other before going to meet Mary in the kitchen.
*
Catherine was about to go outside when she saw Bowen standing by the front door, his back to her with his hands in his pockets. Stuck, she swirled around, closing her eyes tight in frustration. She didn’t like the idea of leaving without Bowen, but she didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Knowing Bowen, she guessed he would insist he come along for her safety. Fighting all her instincts, she opened her eyes and left out the back door, cutting straight into the woods.
Eventually she reached the road that led her to the ruins of the druids. She stood there amidst the tall stones. She didn’t know why she was there, or what she was going to do. But this was the first place she thought of to start.
Walking along, she eyed the stones, and then her eyes fell on the raised ground where the oak trees once stood proud and tall. She stopped at the largest stump and gazed down reverently.
Suddenly, the tree stump expanded upward, and grew tall, branches blooming fully while spreading and covering the sky above her. Catherine jumped back, gaping at the magnificent oak tree in awe. It was just as it had once been, full and strong. In that moment she could understand why they’d been held sacred in ancient times. She revered the giant in front of her, and shut her eyes as she soaked in the beauty of it. But to her astonishme
nt when she opened her eyes the oak stump was back, and gloom hovered again in the air.
Catherine squatted down and stared at the stump. Burrowing her eyes into the ancient wood, she waited, almost as if expecting the tree lines to tell her what to do with their years of wisdom and knowledge. A tree sees all around it, she thought. She ran her fingers carefully along the lines, feeling the ridges. Her legs were becoming numb so she stood to return blood flow and walked to the stone message. She stood over it and stared as well, but this time she allowed herself to fall into a kind of trance.
Though unable to read the message, Catherine somehow felt connected to it. She wondered what the old man looked like who wrote it, Arlana’s father, the high priest. Touching the engraved letters with the tips of her fingers, an image of an elderly man flashed before her eyes suddenly. He was dressed in white with sparkling eyes. The priest? Somewhere deeper, in a gut feeling, she knew she was right. Catherine knew it had to do with her untapped potential trying to come out at last. This place, or her mindset was triggering it. Or was Mary right—had she been experiencing it since Conall’s release, and didn’t know it? Catherine feared what kind of abilities she could have in the future. How far could it go? She desperately did not want this burden to control what could happen to countless of lives. And then to be left with this uncontrolled power all alone?
Catherine turned to walk away, and was momentarily terrified to see Bowen standing in front of her perfectly still. She let out a stifled scream.
“Stop doing that!” she shouted.
“I’m sorry . . .” he said calmly, but with a blank face.
“What are you doing just standing there anyway?” she asked irritably.
“Why did you feel the need to sneak away from the house to come here?”
“Wha—?”
“You were avoiding me at the house, so I followed you here,” he explained. “Now why?” his face was stern.
“I don’t have to tell you, Bowen,” Catherine didn’t want to get into a feminist debate right then, but if that’s what he wanted . . .
“Yes, you do!” Bowen was furious, his eyes blazing with green fire.
“I don’t see why! How dare you!”
“How else can I keep you safe? How can you expect me to protect you if you don’t stay with me, or tell me where you’re going? Damn it all! It wasn’t enough that we both could have died when we were separated before?” Bowen’s face was stricken with worry.
Catherine didn’t say anything. She could hear the fear behind his words. She felt guilty. Their eyes hadn’t left each other. Both were filled with angry fire, but Catherine was the first to cool. Bowen saw it happen instantly, but it didn’t matter. He was too upset.
“Bowen, I’m sorry I ran . . .”
“Where were you running away to?”
“I need to find the wee folk, Mary told me they can teach me how to wield this power I have,” she said.
“That is incredibly dangerous, Catherine,” he put his hands on her shoulders “do you understand?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do know that it’s dangerous, but only if I don’t go alone!”
Bowen let go of her shoulders.
“The last thing I want to do is leave you, Bowen, believe me,” she sighed.
“Mary told you to go alone?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Then she must think they will welcome you instead of taking you.”
“Take me?” Catherine was alarmed.
“Yes . . . you haven’t heard of the folklore?”
“Yes of course, but I didn’t think about that. I was only listening to what Mary read from the book,” she answered.
“Mary meant you no harm. It is true they will not harm a druid,” he said.
“But I’m not a druid,” she stated confused.
“They will see you as one,” Bowen folded his arms.
“Oh, I suppose that’s good then . . .”
“Yes, it is, very much so.”
“If they won’t harm a druid, then why can’t both of us go together?” Catherine wondered.
“They have rules. If you come in numbers often it’s for shenanigans. If you disobey the rule you are inherently disrespecting them. They will ignore you or harm you depending on their mood . . . the wee folk are fairly mercurial,” he said in a matter of fact tone.
Catherine doubted more and more that she could do this. She longed for her normal life, and thought suddenly of Danny.
“You need to be direct with them, and stay calm with a kind voice. Don’t alarm them or their shape shifters will try to intimidate you,” he said.
She snapped her head up. “Wha—? I’ve read about the wee folk turning into the people they’ve taken, it’s all true?”
“To some extent, yes,” he answered.
“Have you ever met them before?” she asked, a bit shaken.
“Yes, once, but it was different for me. They ventured out to speak to my high priest. They are normally very private creatures and would rather wait for human audiences to find them or be completely alone in the woods for them to lure away to their realm.”
“Do you remember why they went to him?”
“They were concerned about their future. I suspect they foresaw the massive change coming, and wanted to get as much energy from the druids as they could before it was too late . . .” he said, his expression thoughtful.
“Before Christianity arrived,” Catherine finished.
“Exactly,” he said, leaning on a large smooth rock.
“Bowen?”
“Yes?”
Catherine sat down cross legged on the ground next to him, and looked up. “Knowing everything you do, after all this time you’ve been alive, what do you believe?”
“Ancient druids believe in an ultimate being, and I still do,” he said.
“And nothing has changed?”
“My belief in a higher power? No. While under the curse I was never able to become too familiar with others until now to seek out details of such things,” he said forlornly.
“Now you can,” she stated.
“Not really, I’ll be back under the curse in no time at all,” he remarked. He straightened his back, and had a far off look on his face. “And that’s just what we have until then: no time.”
Bowen obviously dreaded the idea of being cursed again, Catherine thought, trapped forever in so many ways. She still didn’t want that for him. She wanted him to live freely, to be allowed a real life, to seek out and learn everything he could possibly want. To be fulfilled in mind, spirit and body. As it was, he would be stuck forever, long after she died. The thought scared her. Upset now, she pushed it from her mind, shaking it off as she stood up.
“I must go find the wee folk. Do you know where they live? Mary told me to just search. Helpful,” Catherine said sarcastically.
“They loved the woods, which is why so many legends speak of people disappearing in the forest.” He brushed his hand through his hair in thought, “Some enjoyed abandoned areas, like these ruins, and to be near us, the druids. They may be just over there waiting for you to come,” he pointed to the woods a distance away from the great oak’s remains.
“Just over there . . .” she said quietly to herself, looking far off.
Bowen came closer to her, and she looked up at his approach. She was reminded of his lips on hers, and the warmth emanating between them. “It will be fine. They won’t harm you if you remain respectful and calm,” he soothed.
Catherine shook her head, refocusing her thoughts on the word calm.
“I won’t follow you this time. It would mean death for both of us.”
She nodded gravely.
“Now go,” he said, and pushed her gently off in the direction of the woods.
The sun was bright, though the woods were thick with leaves. She trembled at the thought of passing through the dark interior. She feared wandering too far and getting lost. She thought of Conall finding
her there, and pursed her lips in agitation. Without the use of her power, Catherine knew for sure she would not survive another encounter with him alone. She felt incredibly thankful for Bowen. She turned and saw his shrinking figure standing in the ruins where she’d left him. He was watching her. This brought her comfort, though she knew he couldn’t come rescue her if she needed him this time. She prayed she wouldn’t for once. Pausing at the tree line, she felt the bright sun on her forehead, how it heated her fiery hair. She exhaled, and taking a step forward she entered, leaving possibly the last sunlight she would ever see and feel behind her.
In the woods she walked on for what felt like hours, but it was probably only twenty minutes. Twigs snapped under her feet and made her heart jump. She passed countless trees in the dark, snagging her hair or clothes on their branches. She rolled her mane into a thick red twist and put her jacket hood up. She looked around constantly, watching her surroundings, all the while trying very hard to walk in a straight line. The alarmingly overgrown vegetation made her paranoid of insects and creatures possibly creeping and crawling around everything. Her imagination was getting the better of her, and she tried to ignore thoughts about lurking shadows, hidden creatures and the like behind each tree.
The shadows in the woods made her think of when she met the large bear. The memory of Conall stirred up dark thoughts again as she walked along in a dark place. Now that she had power, maybe there was hope for justice. Maybe she actually could kill Conall, instead of locking him away again. Catherine knew she would have to keep it from Bowen. He would never condone it. But for all she knew, her power might not even be strong enough to cast the curse yet. She desperately hoped she would be able to save them from Conall.
While Catherine tried to convince herself there was nothing to worry about, something suddenly moved to her left, and stopped in an instant. She snapped her head, too late to catch a glimpse. She waited for a moment. What looked like a rabbit’s shadow ran across the path behind her. Catherine turned around watching it, making a full circle. She relaxed her tense shoulders slightly as she thought of the peaceful rabbit living somewhere in these woods without being eaten by a terrifying fairy.
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