The Witch's Journey

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  “Thank you, I think,” Arianna said.

  “See you sometime in the future,” Angelique replied.

  Angelique transported herself back to Wolf and Faolan, relieved to see them right where she’d left them.

  “Is it done?” Wolf asked and she nodded.

  “Then come with me,” Wolf said.

  Angelique was thankful when the colorful swirling magic surrounded them again.

  “Much better,” she said looking around when they stopped. “Where are we?”

  “It’s a faery glade. Alainn and Arianna like these places. I thought you might, too. That faery pool seems to be a favorite with witches and their guardians.”

  “How long can we stay here?”

  “Perhaps a couple of days. Your captain’s obviously seen something not easily unseen. I expect you’ll do your best to help with that, Ginger.”

  “He looks shell-shocked.”

  “When one stares straight at evil that’s the general appearance one does take on. If you’d not been so close and he not connected by your love and blood vow, your guardian may well be dead.”

  “I didn’t realize he’d be in danger just by accompanying me?”

  “You didn’t think needing a guardian sounded dangerous?” Wolf asked.

  “Maybe you should find a guardian for my guardian then because if something happens to Faolan when it could have been prevented, these damn Celtic gods could screw themselves. If they need four transcendent witches in this battle and need me to do these freaking tasks, they’d better kiss ass a whole lot more.

  “If they think the third witch who’s apparently my great-grandmother can make demands, just wait. Be my negotiator; go back to whomever you need to get this point across. If Faolan’s hurt or worse—they’ll wish they’d never found me.”

  The waves in the faery pond grew stormier and a chorus of tiny frightened gasps were emitted.

  “You cannot make threats in a sacred magical place, Angelique,” Wolf warned although he’d never used her actual name before.

  “Then talk to them or I swear, I’ll go to the damn realm of the gods and talk to them myself.”

  “You’re clearly experiencing residual unease of the other three witches, else you wouldn’t know some of this.”

  “Perfect, maybe I’ll experience the rage of all of us for how the gods have played with our lives.”

  “Calm that redhead temper; I’ll get back to you.”

  “We’ll have three days alone here; then we’ll talk. I’m a twenty-first-century witch who knows more about bargaining.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Faolan, look at me,” Angelique said.

  He did, but she wasn’t sure he saw her. She took off his belt, finding the scabbard empty.

  “Weapons aren’t permitted within the faery glade,” a voice whispered.

  Angelique undressed him, removed her own clothes, then took his hand and led him to the faery pool. It was a lovely, serene pond surrounded with twinkling faery lights. A waterfall in the middle was suspended from midair.

  “Come into the healing water, Faolan.”

  He simply permitted her to lead him. After they’d gone to her shoulder height, she washed his face with her hands.

  “Come back to me, my love,” she whispered, kissing his lips. Slowly the light returned to his eyes. He kissed her passionately.

  They went to the shallower waters, soon lost in their lovemaking and the magic of this place.

  *

  “Where’re you going?” Faolan asked.

  “Just outside the faery glade.”

  “We don’t even know what lies beyond here or what century it is.”

  “I’ll be quick but you stay here.”

  “I’m already feeling inadequate as a guardian.”

  “Faolan, I was never in danger, apparently the danger came to you. You were face-to-face with an unimaginably horrid creature. I’m just relieved you’re okay. I was worried you might not come back to me, that your body was here, but your mind gone. Although that wouldn’t have been all bad,” she joked as she ran her hand down his firm thigh and across to his manhood.

  “Angel, you can’t possibly want to…”

  “Have I played you out, my exceptionally virile pirate?”

  “I admit you probably have,” he said yet his sensual smile told her otherwise.

  “When I get back, maybe you’ll be rested.”

  “Is a guardian not supposed to offer their opinion? I’m quite certain a husband is.”

  “If I feel I’m in danger, I’ll come right back. Cross my heart. Pinkie swear.”

  “Pinkie swear?” he uncertainly asked.

  “We lock little fingers—pinkie fingers and make a promise. It’s as binding as a blood vow.”

  “I doubt that,” he stated, but still held his little finger out. She entwined hers around his.

  “Now you literally have me wrapped around your little finger.”

  “Faolan, I’m happy to be your wife.”

  “One day, I’d like to do it properly, with others there to make certain it’s legal and binding.”

  “Don’t you feel married?” she asked.

  “I do, truly, but I’d like you to have a wedding gown, flowers and guests. I realized after, someone from your time would wish for that. I saw movies and magazines with those elaborate wedding gowns and…”

  “Faolan, I was happier in my tattered breeches in that dusty old attic than most brides who’ve spent a gazillion dollars and years planning their wedding often only to impress others.”

  “I’m very lucky to have you, Angel. I was wrong. I believe you could live in whatever time you’re taken.”

  “We’ve spent three days in a magical faery realm better than any expensive spa. I haven’t had to go without bathing. I’ve had trees to hide behind when relieving myself, soft plants for wiping. Kind of like Eden. Nothing to whine or complain about and I’m with my perfect man.”

  “What’s your perfect man supposed to do while you go beyond this glade?”

  “Revel in this beautiful place and relax.”

  “Be quick about it or I’ll worry,” he said.

  She smiled and kissed him again.

  *

  The edge of the faery glade was surrounded by thick bushes with thorns. Maybe she couldn’t get out even with magic. As she approached the bushes, her locket pulsed and an archway formed. Angelique walked into it, encountering a loud humming. She hoped it wasn’t wasps or hornets. She didn’t mind bees and wasn’t allergic, but wasps and hornets were nasty little buggers.

  Stepping from the odd portal, she smiled. Not far away stood an Irish castle. She’d traveled enough in the UK and Ireland to be capable of distinguishing by architecture and even stone color to know precisely where she was. This was definitely Ireland.

  “You weren’t supposed to be out of the faery glade, certainly not without your guardian.”

  “Hi, Wolf, nice to see you again.”

  “You’re more agreeable now? I trust you’ve spent time doing what you like best.”

  “Eating delicious food, drinking mead wine, swimming in the faery pool, sleeping, listening to lovely Celtic harp music and making love definitely make me agreeable.”

  “Thanks for the detailed account.”

  “I left out the best details,” she said and he scowled.

  “Why are you beyond the glade?”

  “I’m drawn to this castle. It’s Ireland, which is as unbelievable as everything else in this journey, but what century?”

  “Alainn grew up in that castle.”

  “The first transcendent witch? The one who, according to the book, is my gazillionth great-grandmother.”

  “Yes, your ancestor. This is nearly five hundred years back in time from when you live.”

  “Why am I here?”

  “Alainn and Killian spent their honeymoon in this faery glade. I thought it fitting you have a short honeymoon here, too. Alainn’s
mother, Mara, still lives in that castle. She’s healer to the O’Brien clan, which is rather ironic when she once put a wretched curse upon them.”

  “Someone summoned me,” a woman with long black hair and very blue eyes said, magically appearing.

  “It’s really that easy to summon someone during your time? You just have to mention their name?”

  “No. Out searchin’ for herbs, I sensed someone near the faery glade and knew you had magic.”

  “So you’d be my gazillionth great-grandmother once removed,” Angelique said.

  “Is she dim-witted?” Mara asked Wolf.

  “Why do you presume he’d know anything about my wits? I’m from the future but I’m your descendant.”

  “I can see that,” Mara said, not sounding surprised. “You have my Alainn’s eyes.”

  “I’ve heard those of Alainn’s lineage wear this pendant,” Angelique said opening her locket.

  “It was my husband’s Druid line that wore those, but all born of that line need them for protection.”

  “Can someone who’s only united by marriage wear one?”

  “That’s an odd question,” Mara said.

  “Is it?”

  “If you’ve met my Alainn who’s apparently gone to this far-off future, you must know her husband wears a pendant nearly identical.”

  “I haven’t met Alainn or Killian even though they’ve been living in my house for some time.”

  “She does sound completely dim-witted,” Wolf said.

  “I need a pendant made for Faolan. If we’re to continue these quests, I must know he’s protected from evil.”

  “Faolan’s your husband?” Mara guessed.

  “He is.”

  Mara reached behind her neck and removed her own pendant.

  “I’ll have another made. The silversmith’s indebted to me. I saved his son from fever last winter.”

  “You’d do this for me?” Angelique asked.

  “Well if I’m your gazillionth great-grandmother once removed then I’d wish you to be happy. Sure keepin’ your husband safe would ensure that.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m glad to have met you. What’s yer name, girl?”

  “Angelique.”

  “A lovely name.”

  “I heard you were difficult and unpleasant,” Wolf said to Mara.

  “Who told you that?”

  “I believe it was Aine.”

  “My grandmother,” Mara said.

  “Your grandmother’s Aine, the Celtic goddess?”

  “She is, but I’ve seldom seen her and haven’t the powerful magic my Alainn possesses.

  “You should be going back to the glade, Ginger. You husband will be worried.”

  Mara embraced Angelique.

  “Thanks for this,” Angelique said holding the pendant.

  “It works best with a wee bit of yours and his combined blood and a protection spell,” Mara said.

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Fare thee well, distant granddaughter. Say hello to my Alainn when you see her. Tell her I miss her much.”

  “I will.”

  “That was pleasant,” Angelique said, turning toward the briar bushes.

  “As prickly as you can be, you do seem to bewitch people, Ginger.”

  “Ditto,” Angelique said.

  She bent over and kissed his cheek.

  “I might like you better when you’re pitching a fit,” Wolf said before disappearing.

  *

  “Do you want to look at the next scroll, Faolan?”

  “I mightn’t know the relevance of the era or location unless it happened before my time.”

  Angelique opened the satchel and grasped a scroll.

  “Last time I knew which one to pick. Now I’m not sure.”

  “Turn it over,” a voice said.

  “Second leg of the journey,” Angelique read, unrolling it.

  Faolan was obviously bracing himself.

  “It didn’t get the same reaction as 1692 Massachusetts,” he stated.

  “It’s not a lot better. Although it’s May 1863. The battle doesn’t take place until July, so we’ll miss it.”

  “Tell me, Angel.”

  “It’s Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, weeks before a battle in the American Civil War that killed over fifty thousand men in only three days.”

  “Christ!” Faolan exclaimed.

  “It must have been unimaginably terrible. Thousands developed gangrene, needed amputations or died of infection. Disease took more lives than the actual battlefield. Many became dependent on morphine, a drug taken for pain and likely to deal with the horrors they saw.”

  “Will you intuitively know where to go?”

  “It says I must take the book to Ainsley, the third witch, my great-grandmother who was a nurse during that war.”

  “Let’s get it over with and hope there’s nothing so evil as what I encountered last time.”

  “Hopefully the pendant I’ve charmed with our blood will protect you,” she said touching his pendant and kissing him. “But how can I take the book to Ainsley when I left it with Arianna more than one hundred fifty years before the Civil War?”

  “Look in the satchel, Ginger.”

  “Why don’t you stay instead of cutting in like some creepy narrator?”

  Faolan found the book in the satchel.

  “Take your guardian and get going, Ginger.”

  *

  Colors swirled faster and brighter as they moved through time but the dizziness seemed less noticeable. When they stopped they stood near a quaint stone cottage.

  “This is lovely. Living here would be just fine,” Angelique said.

  “Bar no running hot water, sewer or luxuries,” Faolan said.

  “Yes, other than that. I hear voices and sense Ainsley’s here. Maybe I’ll pop into the cellar.”

  “I’d rather not wait away from you,” Faolan said.

  “Okay, hold tight, we’ll go inside.”

  She was transported to the cellar, but Faolan wasn’t there.

  “Where are you?” she whispered.

  “I can hear you, but I’m surrounded by peculiar mist. I don’t feel unsafe, but you should leave the book straightaway.”

  “How’ll I know Ainsley will find it?”

  “Could you use telepathy to speak with her?”

  “I’d freak her out when she doesn’t recognize my voice in her head.”

  “Perhaps leave a note.”

  “I don’t have paper or quill.”

  “You come up with an idea then, Angel.”

  “I’ll place it here in the dirt, then cause the book to glow. It’ll be like unearthing a treasure. Like a…”

  “If you say pirate, Angel, I’ll perhaps have to see you sorry.”

  “Like you saw me sorry, this morning?” she playfully whispered. “Hmm, I might like that.”

  “Might?”

  “I’d definitely like it.”

  She pushed away the dirt, placed the book inside, whispering a quick spell.

  “Uh-oh,” she said.

  “What? A demon or devil?”

  “Footsteps. I sense it’s Ainsley.”

  “Hasten, Angel; time’s dwindlin’ and we can’t be here long.”

  Angelique quickly turned away on hearing Ainsley’s voice.

  “Who are you?”

  Angelique was tempted to look, but the thought of Lot’s wife disobeying, and consequently turning to salt, came to mind. Angelique snapped her fingers and disappeared, then summoned Faolan to her. They were once more outside the cottage.

  “That seemed far too easy,” Angelique said.

  “Don’t question it. Let’s just leave.”

  “Where’s the satchel?”

  “Shite, I had it over my shoulder.”

  “Go back in time, only a few moments. Make sure your captain has the satchel,” Wolf said.

  “Couldn’t you just get it?”

  “You’re meant to.
”

  Concentrating, she was soon back inside burying the book as before. She then called to Faolan.

  “Is the satchel on your shoulder?”

  “Aye.”

  “Hold tight because something might try to grab it.”

  “That’s feckin’ perfect!” he said.

  Giggling, she nearly forgot to leave and heard Ainsley again.

  “Who are you?”

  Angelique disappeared and now stood with Faolan.

  “You have the satchel and seem unharmed.”

  “I sensed something there with me, yet this pendant didn’t burn.”

  “Maybe a mischievous faery or poltergeist. Should we go back to see what it was?”

  “What do you sometimes say? That would be a hard pass.”

  “Shhh,” she said pulling Faolan into the woods. “I hear someone.”

  They saw a tall man with dark hair looking intently at the cottage.

  “I wonder who he is?” Faolan asked.

  “He looks really familiar. He reminds me of Fiona. In fact, the resemblance is uncanny!”

  “Maybe he’s an ancestor.”

  “She’s originally from Ireland but has lived in the US for years. She speaks of her son a lot. They’ve been estranged since he was a child. I know she has magic, but can’t believe she wouldn’t mention it if she was able to travel through time. I sense I have a deep connection to him, too.”

  “Maybe you should talk to him,” Faolan said.

  The man glanced in Angelique’s direction as if sensing her, too.

  “You’re not to make contact if it isn’t necessary,” Wolf’s voice warned.

  Deadly curious, Angelique stepped from the clearing and met the man’s blue-green eyes so like Fiona’s. Could this be her son, Cal? Was he capable of time travel? Danhoul said Ainsley’s husband was called Cal.

  “Meeting him now might alter history,” Wolf said so Angelique turned away.

  “Let’s eat and rest before we check the next scroll,” Faolan suggested.

  They walked through Gettysburg’s medical camp. Angelique looked at the many tents and spotted nurses wearing the odd hats worn by some Civil War nurses she’d once seen in a photograph. In less than two months this location would know unspeakable horrors. She shivered and Faolan held her hand tighter.

  “Echoes?” he asked.