Elemental Origins: The Complete Series

by A. L. Knorr

  "Why?" I said, alarmed.

  He shrugged. "Radiation? Electromagnetic frequency? Your guess is as good as mine, but I don't think technology in general is good for young fae. I've never seen a cocoon form anywhere near power lines, cities, cell phone towers, or the like."

  "This is why you don't have wifi, or electricity on this side of the house. I thought you were just a cave man." I looked down at the cocoon. "But really, you're protecting them."

  He nodded. "I don't think it matters so much when they get a little older, but they're fragile at this stage. Like we all are when we’re young."

  I looked at him thoughtfully, taking in the soft brown eyes, the line of concern between his brows, the shadow of his lashes across his cheek. He had experienced a traumatic birth and an unspeakable childhood up until Faith had taken him in. It was no wonder he was so passionate about making sure that the fae survived. He caught me staring and looked me in the eye. We held each other's gaze for a fraction too long, seeing something there that connected us. For the first time since I'd met him, I finally felt like I was worth something to him.

  Two little bulls of emotion smacked skulls inside me. One of them was happy and grateful that I'd finally gotten through to Jasher and made a connection, the other resented the fact that I had to say the magic password before he let me into the clubhouse. Shouldn't he have let me in just because I was a human being and part of his family? Finally, the bull with the word 'grateful' branded into its hide lifted its head, triumphant.

  Chapter 13

  The Criterion Café became my favorite place in Anacullough to answer my emails, surf the web, and otherwise lose myself in digital heaven. I had explored the Ana library and a few other locations, but the Criterion was roomy and had big windows at the front. The place always smelled like cinnamon buns and coffee, and I indulged in both a couple of times a week.

  After the discovery of the fae, the energy between Jasher and me had warmed up impressively. When the door chimed at the Criterion and I looked up to see him enter, I smiled and waved. He grinned and weaved his way through the tables toward me.

  I snapped my laptop closed.

  “You really are addicted to this business, aren’t you,” Jasher said, gesturing at my computer. “Can’t live without it.”

  “Don’t you slander my beloved technology,” I sniffed with false pretension. “At least I can hide from your judgemental gaze at The Criterion. How did you find me here?”

  “Bike,” he said, peering into my coffee cup and then taking a sip.

  “Right.” Faith’s bright yellow townie was parked in the rack out front, screaming my whereabouts from the street like a neon sign. “What’s up?”

  I leaned my elbows on the table and caught a couple of young women noticing Jasher from another table.

  “What are you smiling at?” Jasher asked, looking around.

  “Nothing,” I said, biting my cheeks. “What was so important that you came to find me?”

  “I didn’t come find you. I was just in the area.”

  “I see.”

  He shifted in his seat, lifted his ball cap off his curls and ran a hand through his hair. “Faith mentioned…” he cleared his throat.

  I smiled again. He pronounced Faith as ‘Fate’. It tickled me.

  “What are you grinning at now?” he said, exasperated.

  “Nothing. You’re cute. Go on,” I said.

  “Dear God in heaven,” he muttered, rolling his eyes, but his cheeks had taken on a pleasurable pink cast. “As I was saying, Faith mentioned that you haven’t had much of the Irish experience so far, and that you might want to… get out and mingle with the locals, so to speak.”

  “She did?” I lifted my elbows off the table in surprise.

  “Aye, she did.” The pink color in his cheeks deepened. “She mentioned the Eithne summer party and…” he paused, looking embarrassed.

  “Why, Jasher Sheehan,” I put a hand to my heart. I batted my eyes and put on my finest Southern drawl. “Are you proposin’ to take my otherwise lonely self to a soiree to mingle with all the finest folks of Anacullough?”

  “Stop that.”

  “Why I never been asked to a summer ball by a man so fine as yourself,” I tilted my head and fanned my face. “I’d be honoured to attend this famous Eithne ball…”

  “It’ll be a mud pit,” he deadpanned. “You’ll have to wear wellies.” His eyes were at half-mast like an annoyed Garfield and I laughed at his expression. He stole another sip of my coffee and dimpled at me. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “I know. So when’s this party? Do we have to bring anything?”

  “This weekend. You might want to wear a burka and bring a stick to fend off the boys.” He stood.

  “Nonsense. That’s what you’re for,” I smiled up at him. It was the only compliment I’d ever received from him. I’d take it. “That’s really all you came for, huh?”

  “Aye. I was on my way to the lumber yard.”

  “Well, don’t let me hold y’all up,” I drawled.

  He rolled his eyes again, but he was smiling. “See you later.”

  I watched the girls watch Jasher leave. They both cast curious looks at me. I opened my laptop and hid my smile behind my coffee cup.

  The night of the party was cool and overcast. It had rained most of the day but had tapered off toward evening. The streets were damp and there was a misty glow around the streetlights as Jasher parked his truck along the curb.

  “Where’s the party?” I asked, looking around. It looked like we were in a suburb.

  “Through there,” Jasher pointed to a set of tall, crooked gates. I couldn’t see anything over the stone wall on either side.

  “That looks seriously creepy,” I said cheerfully as I unbuckled my seatbelt.

  “It’s in a park near the ruins of an old fortress called Eithne. The kids are allowed one party a year in there, as long as the place is spotless by morning.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Irish teenagers are more responsible than Canadian ones if they clean up after a bush party.”

  “They lose the right otherwise.” Jasher opened the truck and got out. The sound of rock music drifted over the stone wall. Jasher closed the door and came around to my side. “So far I guess they’ve held up their end.”

  “Do you come every year?” I closed my door and zipped up my wind breaker. I was carrying a bag of chips to donate to the snack table, and a couple of bottled drinks for us. Jasher’s version had alcohol, mine didn’t, thanks to Faith. Drinking in public was allowed in Ireland, but you had to be eighteen. I wondered if they enforced it. I followed that thought up with wondering what Jasher was like after he’d had a few.

  “Gads no,” Jasher said as we walked toward the open gate. “Once was enough for me. I haven’t been to Eithne since I was sixteen.”

  I stopped walking just outside the gate. “What?” My shoulders slumped and I stared at him. “You don’t even want to be here. Why did we come?” I turned and started back toward the truck.

  Jasher grabbed my arm, laughing. “No, Georjie. It’s alright. It’ll be fun.”

  I turned back, shooting him a dubious look.

  “We’re here,” he said. “Let’s just go. You can’t go back to Canada without having gone to an Irish party.”

  I let him steer me through the gates. I was frowning, and considering protesting again when the music got louder and the sound of good-natured laughter rolled over us.

  “Whoa,” I breathed, as we passed a cluster of trees and the scene opened up before me.

  “See,” said Jasher, behind me. “Worth it.”

  The black void of the park had a small but bright galaxy of light in the middle of it. Tall trees towered on either side, their shadows blotting out the sky to the left and right. Christmas lights had been strung up haphazardly across a stone square, roughly the size of a swimming pool. The lights criss-crossed in all directions, with no rhyme or organization, illuminating the people dancing
and chatting below. A DJ spun from a low wooden stage, the large screen behind him displaying psychedelic animation.

  It was the backdrop to this affair that made my jaw drop. Behind the partiers was the looming, rugged shape of a castle ruin. Two huge towers, each with a drunken lean toward each other, stood stark and black against the evening sky like rugged giants on watch.

  “That’s Eithne?” I asked.

  “Aye, they’re not actually allowed to cross that fence.” Jasher pointed to a thick line of chain just behind the stone square. “There’s always a spy here from the village, probably more than one. None of them know who it is, and it’s someone different every year.”

  We walked up the gravel trail through the trees and the faint smell of beer hit my nose. “How old are most of these kids?” The soft gravel crunched underneath our feet, sinking into the wet soil.

  “Up to twenty-five, I guess,” Jasher said. “You’ll be able to pick out the cliques soon enough.”

  He was right. When I really looked, it wasn’t hard to see that the smooth-faced boys and soft-cheeked girls were hanging out together on the dance floor, while bearded men chatted up women who looked several years old than me.

  “Jash?” A voice brought our attention to the side of the crowd furthest away from the DJ. A copper-haired guy strode toward us with a surprised smile. People behind him were looking over at us and talking.

  “Colin,” Jasher said, and the two shook heartily.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here. You haven’t been to Eithne in years.” Colin’s eyes fell on me. “Who’s this?”

  “My c… a friend from Canada,” Jasher said. The deliberate change in his choice of words wasn’t lost on me.

  “I’m Georjayna,” I said. “I come bearing gifts.” I lifted the bag of chips.

  Colin gave a hearty laugh and threw an arm over my shoulder. “Welcome to Ireland,” he said, exhaling the scent of beer over me and sweeping his other arm out. “Is it everything you dreamed of?”

  I put on my best Irish accent. “Aye, there’s good craic to be had, like. If I can get this one,” I jerked my head toward Jasher, “to lighten up.” The word ‘craic’ meant conversation, and that was pretty much the extent of my Irish-isms.

  I winked at Jasher and he shook his head at me.

  “Aye,” his arm tightened, pulling my ear close to his mouth. He pointed his beer bottle toward Jasher and said conspiratorially, “This one was never out playin’ t'under and lightning with us when we was kids, everyone thinks he’s a bit touched in the head. But I know,” he brought the beer bottle against his chest, “he’s solid. Give me work when I was down, so he did.”

  Colin rattled off the names of his friends by way of introduction, pointing the neck of his bottle at them in turn. Most of them had accents so strong and spoke with so much slang that I had a hard time understanding them. I strained to pick up some of the funnier sayings, but failed most of the time.

  Jasher propped himself up on the low stone wall and chatted with some of the guys, his own accent getting thicker, too. It was nice to see him relax for once.

  My eyes wandered up to the ruin as I drank my cider and listened to the music.

  “Fascinatin’, isn’t she?” came a feminine voice at my elbow.

  I turned to a girl with short blonde hair whose head reached the vicinity of my chin. “Bea…” I started, then stopped, knowing I was going to get her name wrong.

  “Emily,” she smiled. “I did a project on Eithne in grade school,” she said as we wandered closer to the ruin. “I was obsessed. You see that bronze plaque there?”

  I did. It looked to be a memorial of sorts, with an inscription etched into the metal surface.

  “I memorized every name on that plaque, and what happened here in 1556.”

  “What happened here?” I looked up at the two crumbling towers.

  “A siege.” Her voice took on a mesmerizing lilt. “These were tower-keeps. They were once about eighty-five feet high, and there were more of them, four total, but they were destroyed.”

  “Who was doing the sieging?” The moon was nearly full and had begun to rise over the ruin, dusting the disintegrating rock with cold blue light.

  “Who else? The English. The siege only lasted two days. There were about fifty Irish holding the fortress, and a dozen Spaniards. There were some women and children, too.”

  “How many English?”

  “Six hundred,” she said.

  We stood next to the thick chain, with the memorial just on the other side.

  “That’s hardly a fair fight. But the Irish won, right?” I expected a heroic underdog story but Emily was shaking her head.

  “No. History doesn’t work like the movies. For six hours each day, Eithne was bombarded by cannons. A demi-cannon can blast through thick stone if fired right. The English threw up assault ladders, and the Spanish would toss them off while the Irish threw down boulders and fired guns. They say the moat was full of wreckage and bodies and the walls of Eithne ran with blood.”

  My skin prickled. I imagined I could hear the sounds of cannon fire, screaming women, and crumbling stone.

  “On the second day, the other two towers cracked and the great wall between them crumbled, crushing dozens and destroying their protection. The rest tried to flee but were gunned down or put to sword.”

  “Women and children, too?” I asked, horrified.

  “No,” she shook her head and turned to face me in the moonlight. “They were hanged.”

  I swallowed. “Lovely story for a party night.”

  “Aye, its not a happy one. But if we don’t remember them, who will? That’s why I memorized the dead.” She looked up at the moon and began to list old-world Gaelic names off on her fingers. “Ó Cuinn, Mac Domhnaill, Ó Baoill, de Paor, Mac Catháin, Ó Cionga, Ó Ruairc. I could go on,”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I should get back to Jasher. Thank you for the history lesson. I’m thoroughly creeped out now.”

  She laughed, “Sorry. I do get passionate about my history. This wasn’t just the story of a siege, it was strategically significant in the sixteenth century.”

  We turned and walked back to the party together. “How so?” I scanned the faces for Jasher.

  “Once the English knew the tactics that broke through the fortress defenses, it was just rinse and repeat. The garrisons at Newcastle, Rathkeale, Ballyduff and others all fell the same way. That’s when guerrilla warfare came on the scene.”

  “Fascinating,” I said, but I wasn’t listening anymore. I spotted Jasher and my blood went cold. Something was wrong. His face was pale, and his eyes darted around, registering things I couldn’t see.

  I swore. “I’m so stupid,” I whispered. “We’re so stupid.” I dropped my cider into a nearby can and strode through the crowd toward Jasher. “Sorry Emily, gotta run.”

  “Oh… kay…” she said behind me, confused at my abruptness.

  People were talking to Jasher and he was making an effort to stay focused on them but failing. From the way his distraction shot from one place to another, it was clear he was being harassed by more than one entity.

  “What’s the matter with ye, Jasher” Colin said just as I pushed my way into the group. “Ye look like ye’ve seen a ghost.”

  I put my hands on Jasher’s knees. “Jasher,” I said, and his unfocused eyes snapped to me like I’d just materialized out of nowhere.

  His eyebrows shot up, and relief flooded his face. “Georjie,” he croaked.

  “What the…” I started, then I stopped and took a breath. Heat flushed up my neck, and I swallowed down my frustration. “Sorry guys,” I turned to the group and forced a smile. “Lovely to meet you. I’ve come down with a headache,” I put my fingers to my temple. “Jasher, can you take me home?”

  The whole performance reeked of poor acting but I didn't care - all I cared about was putting a stop to the look on Jasher's face.

  He hopped down and took my hand. “Of course.�
��

  We said quick goodbyes to Colin and his friends and strode toward the gate, me pulling Jasher behind me.

  Jasher began to mutter in Gaelic and the sound made my skin crawl with a million ants. He wasn't speaking to me.

  “Are they going to follow you?” I asked.

  He kept speaking in Gaelic, with a borderline pleading tone. It wasn’t until we were inside the truck and had shut the door that he said, “No. Thank God they don’t move very fast, and they don’t stray far from their haunts.”

  “How many?”

  Jasher didn’t answer. I looked over at his pale face, his brow beaded with sweat.

  “Jasher!”

  “I’m thinking! Uh…seven,” He raked a hand through his hair and let out a deep shuddering breath. “Yeah, seven.” He looked over at me and suddenly grinned. “Don’t be upset, Georjie. I’m used to it. Well, maybe not seven at once, but—”

  “Why did you even take me there? You know about Eithne, don’t you?” My heart was pounding with frustration.

  “Aye, we study it in school,” he said, turning the truck through the main intersection of Ana and heading towards home.

  As we took the corner I spotted a man just outside the circle of light thrown by a streetlamp. He wasn’t much more than a silhouette in clothing that looked too big for him. A newsboy cap was propped off-kilter on his head, and there was something familiar about it. There was also something off about the way he was moving, like a stiff animated scarecrow, or a zombie. I craned my neck as we went by, trying to figure out what made him familiar, but he was behind us and out of sight in a moment. I shook my head and turned back to Jasher, focusing on our own problem.

  “I’m an idiot for letting you take me there,” I said.

  “Easy, Georjie,” Jasher said, his voice now calm. We pulled to a stop at the last set of lights before our country road. “It’s my fault, not yours. No need to be angry.”

  “I’m not angry,” I said, my face relaxing a bit. “More scared from the look on your face, and creeped out.”