Daughter of Light and Shadows

by Anna McKerrow

  ‘No. That was way more vivid. It was a grass road, like I said, and it was absolutely heaving with them. All sizes. All kinds. I could see them all. They could see me, but most of them left me alone,’

  ‘So…?’

  ‘So, this house is sitting on a faerie road of some kind. All the disturbances you’re getting are because of the sheer amount of traffic going up the hill to whatever that glowing thing is up there. Which would explain why no-one’s ever settled here. The fae must have been livid when this house was built. They’re very protective of what they consider to be their land. Faerie mounds, roads, passageways.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘There are documented cases of people having to placate faeries when they’ve built on their territory. In Iceland they build roads around their elf-hills. They wouldn’t dream of knocking them over.’

  ‘Really?’ Rav chuckled. ‘That’s amazing.’

  ‘Oh, it’s a serious business. There are people that are brought in specially to negotiate with the elves when a new road is to be built.’ Faye smiled.

  ‘So what’re you saying? That I need to pacify the faeries?’

  ‘I would say so.’

  ‘Well, what are we talking about? Saying a prayer or something?’

  It was still cold in the room. Faye looked around her; it was beautiful, this house, but unless she could sort this problem out, Rav would move out in a month or so. And she realised that she didn’t want him to go. She liked him, and she liked him being close by. And this was a special place; she’d always thought so. She felt suddenly sure that if the faerie road problem could be solved, it could be a place of power here.

  ‘No. I think it’s going to take more than that,’ she mused. ‘Do you own this house? Or are you renting it?’

  ‘Renting. Had to move up here so fast it was the only option.’

  ‘Ah. Well, I remember reading about a house that this happened to. They stopped the disturbances by rebuilding the corner of the house that was impinging on faerie land.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ Rav let out a snort of disbelief. ‘That’s mad. Not that any landlord would let me do that anyway.’

  ‘I’m not kidding at all.’ Faye gave him a serious gaze, pushing her fringe out of her eyes. ‘This kind of thing is serious. People spend a lot of effort appeasing the fae.’

  ‘Well, I’m not doing that. I can’t, even if I wanted to.. Forget it. I’ll just get some earplugs.’

  Faye sighed. What she couldn’t say, or even explain to herself, was that in that moment when she stood on the faerie path, she had felt at home. What could she say to Rav that would help him understand that? She hardly understood herself.

  ‘Look, I never said it was an easy option. Perhaps I’d better go.’ She stood up, jamming her hands in her pockets. She felt uncomfortable being here now, and it wasn’t just because of the faeries.

  ‘Don’t go. I didn’t mean to be rude. Just… there must be something else we can do?’ Rav stood up and reached out for her shoulder; his hand felt warm through the coat. ‘I’m new to all this. And I… I really like you, and I trust you. But you’ve got to admit it’s kind of crazy, too. Please, Faye.’

  He sighed, and shook his head. ‘Mum always said I should be more spiritual. I’ve just never really… connected with that kind of thing, you know? She had an altar to Lakshmi and Vishnu in our house when I was growing up, she went on pilgrimages now and again. It’s just… not my thing. Or, it never has been. Maybe it’s something I should explore? But… take it easy with me, I guess.’

  ‘Okay.’ She put her hand to his on her shoulder and they shared a long look. Faye felt the attraction again between them, like the heady mist of faerie, but she felt a disappointment too. She wasn’t experienced with men, and maybe that meant she was too romantic about them. She didn’t like it when the sparkle rubbed off, even a little.

  She’d wanted to imagine that Rav was different, but he was like all the rest: his doubt was hurtful, like little thorns in her heart. But she’d spent her whole life among the doubt of others, and she couldn’t blame him for it – Grandmother had always told her, it’s us that’s different, not them. Have patience, wee one.

  ‘Well. Other things you can do – you can cleanse the place, first. With sage or rosemary. I bet no-one’s done it the entire time it’s been here.’ She paced around, looking up at the walls and the ceilings.

  ‘Right, I’ve heard of that. Does that work, though?’ Rav frowned; Faye could see he was trying not to look too doubtful, and a warm flare of affection for him spread in her heart. He was trying to understand, and there were many people who wouldn’t.

  ‘Sure. You can get a bundle of either herb and burn it, smudging the smoke into the corners of all the rooms, around the doors, that kind of thing, or use the rosemary with water.’ She cupped her left hand as if it contained water and mimed a flicking motion with her right hand. ‘Like this.’

  Rav copied her, his expression totally serious. ‘Like this?’

  ‘Right,’ Faye wanted to hug him, suddenly, for trying, but she held herself back. ‘And you should set up a faerie altar, and leave offerings for the fae. It might make them a little happier, at least.’

  ‘An altar. Like, stuff on a table?’

  ‘Specially selected stuff on a table, laid there with intention,’ she corrected, smiling. ‘Usually the offerings are bread and milk, or cream. Nothing too fancy and nothing too simple. Something just right.’

  ‘Like the three bears.’

  ‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘I can help you find things for the altar. It doesn’t have to be elaborate; in fact, it’s better that it isn’t. This house is built next to the sea. The fae are of the sea and the land. The way that we show them we’re honouring them isn’t by loading up a table with plastic knick-knacks. Some stones, shells and feathers would be good. And those things bring the power of nature to your sacred space indoors.’

  ‘Oh. And the bread and milk?’

  ‘Yes. Can you do that? Change the food and drink every other day, maybe. You don’t want to leave anything that’s gone off.’

  ‘I can do that.’ Rav frowned, then smiled at Faye watching him. ‘I’m grateful, really I am, Faye. I hope it’ll work.’

  ‘I’m sure it will. It can’t hurt, anyway,’ she smiled again.

  ‘Can you help me? Find the stones and shells and things?’ Rav leaned forward and reached for her hand.

  ‘Of course. Let’s go out there while there’s still light.’ She squeezed his hand; it felt good in hers.

  Chapter Eleven

  The sunset hung over the sea like a spell, temporarily changing Black Sands Beach into another place entirely: an in-between place where a faint smell of roses laced the salt of the rippling tide. Faye wondered where the smell of roses came from; perhaps an early blooming garden somewhere in the village.

  ‘That’s some beautiful sky,’ Rav whistled as they stood there, suffused in the deep pink of the heavens. The red sun lit the sea dramatically; an unusual hush was on the beach. Faye felt the heartbeat of the land pounding through her toes; she took off her shoes and sank her bare feet into the sand. It was Beltane tomorrow, the first of May: the fire festival of the Old Ways. Sex and revelry, drinking, dancing. The energy was thick in the ground under her; Nature was bursting, full to the brim with bounty. Faye blushed as the fullness – no, it was something else – the ripeness of the feeling took her breath away.

  ‘Yes… it’s… um. It’s bonny,’ she replied, without knowing how to say how she felt. She had felt the surge of life in the earth before, but never when standing on a beach at sunset next to an attractive man. She had always imagined that attractive men were cads, acted like assholes, full of the ego of their own beauty. But Rav was shy, respectful; he made her laugh. There was an essential niceness about him that was relaxing to be around. And he was beautiful, perhaps without knowing it.

  ‘Let’s look, then,’ she broke the moment, unsure of h
erself around him still. ‘Shells, feathers, hagstones – that’s stones with holes in them – anything like that. Whatever you like the look of.’

  ‘All right.’

  They walked along the beach together, picking up things when they saw them.

  ‘It’s hard, isn’t it? Family expectations.’ Faye broke the companionable silence, and bent down to pick up three iridesvent blue mussel shells; there were so many on the beach that the small, broken bits of blue shell gave the sand a jewelled sheen in the twilight. ‘Your mum expecting you to be more into religion, I mean. I sometimes wonder what I’d have been if I hadn’t been a Morgan.’

  ‘Would you have been a witch, you mean? he asked, holding out his hand for her as she stood up.

  ‘I guess so, aye. I wonder that sometimes.’ Faye picked up a flat, round stone and skipped it into the sea. ‘Did you always want to work in music? Was it always your thing?’

  ‘Pretty much. Practically came out of the womb with headphones on. I remember being like three, four maybe, and listening to all of my brother’s hip-hop CDs. And Mum and Dad’s Indian music. Like, everything I could get my hands on; I still like a massive range of stuff. I studied sound technology at university but I wasn’t quite good enough to make it in a studio, so I ended up on the business side. Roni and I started our company straight out of uni. We used to make flyers for indie bands in London, then we booked a tour for a friend’s band, then a few years later we were doing all sorts. Management, tours, marketing, the lot. It grew pretty quickly.’

  ‘Sounds like you were meant to do it.’ Faye grinned and pushed the hair out of her eyes.

  ‘Yeah, but it was mostly hard work, you know? Some people believe in fate. I don’t. I think it’s what you make it.’

  ‘Maybe it was fate you came here,’ Faye teased as she picked up some slick crow feathers from the sand.

  Rav laughed softly.

  ‘Maybe it was,’ he conceded. He held his hand out for hers again, and this time he didn’t let go after she took it. Immediately she felt a heat rise between them, even though the evening was cool and the wet sand was cold on the soles of her feet. It was the heartbeat in the sand; the rhythm of the land that, in that moment, at this point in the year, was focused on bodies, sex and making babies. In the old agricultural year, it was a time of giving thanks for the ripeness of the crops. Ye can sugar coat it all ye like, Annie had said in the shop yesterday, now that she was back from the acting job she refused to talk about, but there’s nae doubt that Beltane’s comin’. I need that spell to work soon, if ye know wha’ I’m sayin’...

  Rav’s gaze was soft, and he leaned in to kiss her.

  Faye pulled back, unsure.

  ‘What is it?’ Rav asked, stepping back quickly. ‘I’m sorry, I—’

  She felt silly, but it was hard to explain the caution she felt. Love was a subject haloed in doubt and mystery in her mind; Moddie and Grandmother had taught her to be wary of it. And yet, she possessed a rebellious dislike of their constant carefulness. Even Moddie, with her flower power joie de vivre, was cautious. About boys for Faye when Faye was a teen, about men for herself, and about magic itself. They were witches, that was accepted. That was their heritage. But the fear of persecution persisted. Grainne Morgan, apparently a beautiful black-haired woman, had ‘enchanted’ several local men so badly that she ‘possessed their minds, turning them aside from their wives’. That she was a witch was true, but her power – her magic – was intrinsically connected to her sexuality, and the people of Abercolme had resented it.

  ‘No, I’m sorry, Rav… I…’ She didn’t know how to explain. It’s not the sixteenth century any more, she thought angrily, hating herself for pulling away. Hating herself for the confusion on his face. There was a legend that Grainne Morgan had not in fact been drowned as punishment, but that when it came time for her execution, an army of faeries had swept in with the sea, flooding the harbour at North Berwick.

  It was a legend, Grandmother said. How could it be true? But in that moment, in her mind’s eye, Faye saw the faeries riding on the waves towards her, to Black Sands Beach, and she was suddenly filled with a kind of velvety, warm wickedness which dispelled the doubt and anxiety like a shot of morphine. A pleasurable lull relaxed her taut muscles; a sweetness filled her blood and she reached for Rav, wrapping both arms around his neck and pulling him to her. Without saying anything more, she kissed him fiercely.

  As she closed her eyes, Faye was overcome with sensation. Rav’s lips were soft, and for a moment she could feel his surprise in the kiss; then, he kissed her back, harder. His fingers stroked her cheek, and then came to her bottom lip as they kissed. It felt right, delicious: the kiss became hot, slippery, wet. At the same time, she had the sense they were not alone; for a moment it was as though they stood on a beach thronged with people. She had the feeling of being knocked into, walked past. She heard laughter, snatches of speech she didn’t understand, giggling. But when she drew back briefly from Rav and opened her eyes, they were alone.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked huskily, his face close to hers still.

  ‘Nothing, I just… thought I heard something.’ The sun was setting fast and the moon was rising already; it would be full tomorrow.

  He kissed her again, and now Faye felt a sense of urgency in herself she wasn’t used to. She’d had so few lovers. For a moment she smiled as his lips brushed hers; the spell had worked, anyway.

  ‘Come back to the house,’ Rav murmured against her ear. Faye looked up at the rising moon and shook her head; she wanted to stay outside. Here was where she felt most alive. Rav kissed her again, his lips tracing the line of her neck now; she felt his hot mouth on her collarbone. He pushed her clothes away from her skin and started to unbutton her blouse underneath the pink coat. Pleasure made networks on her skin, like a trail of small fireworks following his kisses. She sighed and let her head hang back, accepting Rav’s worship of her body. She was hungry – starved of affection, even; she had forced herself into drought; denied herself this. ‘Please,’ he begged her between kisses. ‘Come back inside.’

  ‘We’re fine here.’ She pulled him down to the ground and he knelt next to her.

  ‘Won’t we get covered in sand?’ he said, smiling.

  ‘A little, maybe. It comes off. Don’t worry about it.’ She reached into her pocket and took out a large, creased cotton scarf and spread it over the sand under them. ‘There. No sand.’

  ‘You’ve done this before.’ He raised his eyebrow, pretending to be arch. ‘Seducing me under the moon, is that your plan?’

  ‘Aye, you’re just this week’s conquest,’ she reached for him, lying back on the sand and he came to her, laying his head next to hers. He gazed into her eyes.

  ‘You’ve captured me, then. What now?’

  She didn’t know, but let instinct take her over. He rolled onto his back, reaching for her, and she kissed him deeply, touching his chest, feeling it firm and muscled under her light fingertips. She wanted his skin on hers, so she pushed up his black sweater and the soft tartan shirt underneath it; she placed her ripe mouth on his stomach, feeling the electric buzz of connection between them as she did so.

  He moaned as her kisses covered his chest; both had forgotten any kind of chill in temperature, and the aura of roses still hung in the air, at the edge of perception.

  He reached for her greedily, pulling her up towards his face for a deep kiss; as he drew away slowly he bit her top lip gently.

  ‘Take this off,’ he asked softly, and she took off her coat. He slid his hand under her half-opened blouse and bra and stroked her breast, pushing its lace to one side.

  ‘Rav… Oh, oh god,’ she murmured as he ran his tongue over her soft skin. She straddled his hips and leaned forwards so that her full breasts, skimmed with the white lace bra, were in his face. He licked her nipples through the soft lace and silky material of the bra, and moaned as he kissed both of them. She reached behind her, unhooked the bra and pushed it up so that h
er rounded, soft breasts were his to adore. She could feel him harden and push instinctively against her; she ran her fingers in his black hair as he moaned and sucked on her nipples. She felt wildly alive; she knew she was so wet already from his mouth on her that she could climax with just a few strokes of him inside her, or with his hand stroking her clit.

  As if he could sense her thoughts, Rav reached under her and stroked the crotch of her jeans. She unbuttoned and unzipped them, taking them off and throwing them to one side, and rolled beside him so that he could touch her more easily; his gentle sucking was intoxicating and her body had now entirely taken over with its urgent need for pleasure. If Rav was surprised at how far their teenager-ish making out was going, then he adjusted quickly: he pulled her pink cotton knickers to one side and stroked his finger over her clit, maddening her with his deliberate slowness.

  ‘Oh god, oh god…’ Faye began moaning, having no control over her voice now. She closed her eyes and, just for a moment, had the sense again they were not alone on the beach; it was as though she could feel eyes on her dishevelled clothes, on her naked breasts under the moonlight. As Rav moved his mouth towards her stomach and continued stroking her softly, she closed her eyes and spread her arms out on the scarf, her palms on the sand. Shapes and shadows formed and dissolved on her eyelids as if figures stood by, watching her pleasure build, but she felt no shame or embarrassment. Indeed, as Rav quickened his stroking and pleasure filled her even more, she spread her legs wide. Just the act of doing that aroused her further: she wanted to be seen. She wanted to be completely open, receptive to all, to everything to fill her with pleasure. She felt the gazes of the shadows feeding her. Their desires building hers.

  Come and watch me, come and feel this, witness my pleasure. Worship me, adore me, she thought, the words coming from nowhere. She felt his finger enter her, moving slowly in and out of her, and then, as she was so wet, he pushed two fingers into her. She gasped at the sensation of them stretching her in just the right way: he twisted his two fingers into her slowly, and then pulled them out again in a gentle corkscrew motion. She felt her climax coming hard, then, just as his hot tongue met her clit; as her muscles started to contract, the heat of his mouth was on her and she grabbed his head and pushed it into her as the wave of ecstasy came, and came like a hardness and a softness at once.