Dead Moon Awakens: A tale of Cherokee myth and Celtic magic (Mystic Gates) (16 page)

She didn’t know how many minutes had passed before Kelile
sat next to her on the steps. “We probably need to set up camp.” He wrapped his
arm around her shoulders and gently squeezed.

By this time, she had no more tears. She wiped her
worn, red eyes and nodded.

With the help of him and Morrigan, she managed to
bust open the side door to the old garage.

“We could stay in here tonight,” she said,
standing in the doorway.

“No. There’s not enough room in here,” Kelile
answered, bumping her shoulder as he wedged himself through the doorway into
the garage.

Inside, a 1973 Volkswagen Super Beetle took up a
large portion of the small, one-car garage. Stacked boxes almost hid the faded
green car from view. Undefined bundles hung from the ceiling rafters. At this time
of day, three small windows provided minimal light.

“What’s in all those boxes?” Morrigan asked as she
jammed in.

“I don’t know. They weren’t there before.”
Aishling rummaged through the closest stack. The first couple of boxes held
pots and pans from their kitchen, most stained from smoke. She moved to another
pile. “This has a lot of the charms and bottles of remedies Ma makes.”

“Uh … girl? What’s all this stuff hangin’ from the
ceiling?”

“Herbs from our Garden of Life and Death. Ma dries
them out that way.”

“And … what
is
a Garden of Life and Death?”
He arched his eyebrows.

“Who do you suppose boxed everything up after the
fire?” Morrigan asked.

“I don’t know.” Aishling frowned, wondering if it
could have been her mother.
Why is she hiding from me?

Morrigan came up beside her and pulled the top off
another box. “Maybe the Suti Stone is in one of these boxes.”

“I told you!” Aishling grabbed the box lid and
glared at Morrigan. “I don’t know where that stone is, and I really doubt it’s
here.”

“Okay!” Morrigan threw up her hands. “I won’t
touch anything. I just think the sooner we find it, the sooner we can get back
to the way we were.” She stomped out of the garage.

Aishling looked at Kelile, and he shrugged. “The
queen may have a point, girl.”

So, he agreed with Morrigan.
All they care
about is that silly stone!
She ignored him.

As evening approached, they set up the tent as a
covering, using the garage as a sidewall. “Thanks, Lance, for lettin’ us have
your tent,” Kelile said while securing the last knot.

“I wonder how he’s doing.” Morrigan sat on the
stretched out sleeping bag Lance had also given them.

“I hope Redhawk agrees to take him in. That would
make him so happy.” Aishling sat beside Morrigan.

“I don’t think the problem is with Redhawk. He
didn’t either.” Kelile leaned his head and back against the garage wall,
stretching his legs along the ground. “He said he thought the state, or Herald
Home, or both, were prejudiced against Indians, that they were keepin’ him away
from Redhawk. He thought if he could just make contact with him, they’d have no
choice because it would look bad if it
appeared
they were being
prejudiced.”

He folded his hands behind his head. “Now my favorite
witches, where do we go from here?”

“We need to find the Suti Stone,” Morrigan
answered.

“I still have to find my mother. I don’t care
about that stone. Why don’t you and Kelile go find it and leave me here,”
Aishling said. “I’m tired of hearing about that stone, anyway. I’m so tired of
running away, and hiking, and hiding, and being hungry and thirsty, and no one
believing me when I say my mother is still alive. I’m tired of it all!”

Morrigan hopped up and glowered at her. “You know,
you’re not the only one tired. And I’m hungry and thirsty, too. I’ve got
blisters on my feet. I haven’t had a bath in days. And I had to say goodbye to
Lance, all because I’m trying to help you!” She stormed away again.

Aishling sat still, pouting. She glanced at Kelile.

“Don’t look at me, girl. All my plans were messed
up too. I’m on the run and lookin’ for some stupid stone. And, I’ve got a crazy
female doggin’ me in my head. I’m not feelin’ sorry for you. We’re all tired
and uncomfortable.” He patted her on her knee, leaned back against the garage wall
again, and closed his eyes.

Aishling huffed. Her head throbbed, and she fought
back nausea. Not knowing what else to do, she laid down and tried to calm
herself. Before long, she fell asleep, a deep, deep sleep.

Sunday, May 5

In the early hours of morning, dreams yanked
Aishling from her coma-like slumber and plunged her into an agitated sleep. At
first, the dreams were repeats—being chased by the
Uktena
, the flying
horse, tornado, black fog, a woman’s voice demanding the Suti Stone. Then, the
nightmarish dreams ceased.

A light appeared, a luminescent, silver-white
glow. Slowly, the light glided into her dream-state vision. Even though she was
asleep, her senses became acutely aware of the light. As it came into focus,
its brightness flooded her with a sense of complete and overwhelming joy and
warmth. Aishling saw her. She savored her presence, her smile. Ma stood before
her, much clearer than the dream she had had a couple of nights before. She
inhaled her mother’s essence. She reached out and grappled for her mother’s
touch.

In this lucid dream, her mother hugged her, and
coddled her, running her fingers through Aishling’s hair like she always did
when Aishling was upset. “Listen, honey. Your sadness, your hopelessness closes
you down. I can’t reach you when your heart is closed.”

“Ma, I miss you so much. Please tell me,” Aishling
cried. “Where are you? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said to you that
night.” But the image began fading as her cries increased.

“Your sadness … you must find a way to overcome
your sadness and remain open,” her mother’s voice was also fading.

“How do I stop being sad? How? Ma? Ma, please come
back, please.”

“Go to the Garden of Life and Death. Look under the
archway stone. You’ll find a
wish
box
under the archway stone.
Remember, honey.”

Aishling awoke exhausted, her face, hair and neck
soaked with dream tears. The ache inside her heart gripped her so hard she
clawed at her chest, heaving for air.

A vague memory invaded her thoughts and her panic.
Ma!
Hadn’t she been there?
Yes, I saw her!
Hadn’t Ma hugged her
in the dream?

But the dream was fading. She couldn’t bring it
together in her memory.
Wait!
Hadn’t her mother said something about the
garden?

She sat up, rubbing her temples. Pausing for
breathless moments, she searched her memory for the lost remnants of the dream.
“You must overcome your sadness.” That’s right. What was the other thing Ma
told me to remember? Something buried? Yes. But what and where?
She
lingered, forcing her mind to remember. Upon taking a slow, deep breath, she
relaxed enough to allow the dream to come to her.
Wish box
…
Look
under
…
a stone
… .
Oh, at the archway!
She quietly stood and
snuck away from the others, walking to the edge of the overgrown garden. Still
too dark. Too many weeds. She hesitated, dazed.

Unaware of how long she’d been there, she
eventually became conscious of faint, early morning light. As she looked
around, she noticed golden rays filtering through the trees. She would wait a
few minutes longer until she could clearly see around the archway.

While waiting, she thought of the time when she
and Ma had made the trellis arch over the garden entryway. They had placed the
stone underneath, creating a formal entrance into their Garden of Life and
Death. She smiled, picturing her mother saying, “
What we do with herbs is
sacred, and must always be respected. The herbs in this garden can heal life,
but if used irresponsibly or in ignorance, they can also destroy life. That’s
why we call it our Garden of Life and Death.”

The outline of the entryway became sharper as day
squeezed out night. Part of the trellis arch was broken and hung in a tangled
mess, blocking the entrance. When she spotted this, more memories surged back.
She saw herself walking through the entryway, holding her mother’s hand. As
they emerged on the other side, they were no longer standing in the Garden of
Life and Death. Instead, they were standing in a place of magic.

There were trees and flowers and herbs, but these
trees and flowers and herbs emitted colors and hues of iridescent light, as if
formed out of rainbows. There had also been other lights—like fireworks—dancing
and exploding all around her and Ma. And the smells! The candy-sweet smells
burst in her nose. Smells so strong, she could taste butterscotch, chocolate
chip cookies, and cherry pie!

She gasped with the next, the last image, memory—a
tall, slender male who glimmered and sparkled. He smiled and reached for her.
She ran into his arms.
Da!

“Aish! What are you doing?” Morrigan.

“No!” Aishling cried. The memories disappeared.
She reached out, trying to pull them back. They were gone. “No, Morri. Why did
you have to interrupt.”

“I was worried about you. What were you doing?
What did I interrupt?”

Aishling huffed. “Never mind.”

“Sorry I bothered you. What were you doing?”

“I was waiting until it got light enough to look
for something.”

“What?”

“Oh … Morri, I think Ma came to me last night. She
told me to find a wish box that was buried there.” She pointed at the arched
garden entrance.

“Wish box. That’s it! That’s wonderful! Let’s get
it!” Morrigan rushed forward and reached down, grabbing the piece of arbor
blocking the entrance.

“No. Wait. Let go of that!” Aishling shoved her
away.

“Sorry!” Morrigan crossed her arms, flashed a
frown, and then stuck her tongue out at her.

“Get that back in your mouth.” Kelile walked up
behind them. “What’s going on, my favorite witches?”

“Would you-uns go away!”

Kelile spread his hands in front of himself.
“Okay, okay. Everyone calm down.” He grinned through his teeth before he said,
“See me, girl? I’m backing off. See Morrigan? She is too.” He elbowed
Morrigan’s arm. “Play along with me.”

Morrigan didn’t budge. “Why are you acting that
way, Aish? I didn’t do anything to you. I was trying to help you.”

“Okay … okay. Give me a minute.” Aishling closed
her eyes.

Moments later, when she opened her eyes again, she
apologized.

After telling them about the dream and where the
wish box was located, Aishling tugged on the twisted archway and moved it out
of the way. She studied the buried stepping-stone briefly before working her
fingers down one side and gripping it. She looked at Kelile and smiled. “Do you
want to help me?”

“If you don’t bite my head off, girl.”

While Morrigan watched, Kelile and Aishling
removed the stone. A metal box rested underneath. Aishling brushed the dirt
away that had settled on top and around the handle then lifted the box out of
the cavity.

Morrigan tapped her hands together. “I can’t wait
to see what’s inside! I bet it’s the Suti Stone, or at least a clue where to
find it.”

Aishling carried the metal box to their sleeping
bag and sat. Morrigan bounced down beside her as Kelile sat across from them.

“Maybe your mother left you a bunch of money,” he
said.

“No. It’s got to be the Suti Stone.” Morrigan
insisted.

Surprised that the metal box wasn’t locked,
Aishling lifted the clasp and raised the lid. When she did, she discovered
three items in the box.

Morrigan leaned over and looked.

“Well? Are ya gonna tell me what’s in there, girl,
or am I supposed to read your mind?”

Aishling looked at him while she reached inside.

The first thing she removed was a silver bell,
about seven inches long. She held it up, examining it. The bell was etched with
a long, vertical line that had five short, equally spaced, horizontal lines
extending to the right from its midsection. Each horizontal line ended evenly
with the others. Aishling had seen this symbol before. It was one of the
Ogham
Fews
. But, what did it mean?

She gently shook the bell, and it emitted delicate
sounds. Shaking it again, this time harder, she smiled because the music from
the bell awakened her senses. Goose bumps popped along her arms and thighs as
her inner spirit reached outward, opening briefly.

“A bell. A bell? Don’t tell me that’s a magical
bell,” Kelile smirked. “So, your mother left you a bell.”

“Don’t you dare make fun of Ma. I never make fun
of your mother.”

“What? You called my mom a witch yesterday.”

“I did not. I said she was trying to—But I wasn’t
making fun of her. Remember”—pointing at herself—“witch here.”

“Okay. But, what do you do with a bell?”

“Oh, hush,” Morrigan said.

Aishling set the bell in her lap and reached for
the next item. She held up a glossy black, triangular stone, about five inches
wide at the base and a couple of inches wide at the top, and two inches thick.
The stone had a concave, circular impression in the center, slightly larger
than a silver dollar. Various muted colors—reds, blues, yellows, whites—were
ingrained within the stone in a pattern of swirls. She rubbed her thumb in its
concave impression, smiled, then sighed. She loved the feel of it in her hand,
cooling. Yet a warm, protective energy rushed through her chest, filling her
with a sense of relaxation and well-being.

“Is that the Suti Stone?” Kelile asked.

“No. It’s just peacock obsidian,” Morrigan said,
sounding disappointed.

“It makes you feel good,” Aishling said, trying to
hand it to her.

Morrigan leaned away. “No thank you.”

“Well, give it to me, girl. I need a little feel
good.” He reached for it.

“No. Only she should hold it.” Morrigan stretched
her hand out and blocked his. “Remember your other stuff was cursed, Aish.”

Aishling set the stone in her lap with the bell
and stared again into the metal box. She smiled at the last item, a priceless
treasure. She reached in and pulled out a leather-bound, oversized book, three
inches thick.

“Is that your mother’s
grimoire
?” Morrigan
whispered, her eyes bulging out.

“What? What’s a grim … what?” Kelile asked.

“Hush,” Morrigan said.

After opening the cover binding, Aishling silently
read the inscription inside:

To: Aishling Bran O’Brian, our cherished
daughter

For your 11
^th
Holly Eve, December
24, 1989

Dear Aishling,

We crafted this grimoire for you and had
planned to give it to you during your Twelfth Night Naming Ceremony in January.
But, the Holly King requested we give it to you today, the day on the Wheel of
the Year when he makes his annual departure and leaves gifts for all his
children.

These pages hold many magickal teachings.
Many more will be revealed as your destiny unfolds and your spirit is ready.
Keep this grimoire with you always throughout your life, as it will guide and
protect you.

Forevermore, believe in the magick of this
book, in the magick of the Sidhe, in the magick of our Celtic and Cherokee
heritages, in the magick within you. But remember, you must first open your
heart and soul in order to perceive the magick. If you do, a bright light will
eternally follow you and protect you, even when total darkness surrounds you.

With our eternal love,

Ma and Da

“What’s it say?” Morrigan asked.

“What
is
a grim—What did you call it?”
Kelile persisted.

“It’s sort of like a
Book of Shadows
,”
Aishling answered. “I was supposed to get it on my eleventh
Holly Eve
.
Ma and Da had made it for me and were going to give it to me.”

“Girl, what’s a Book of Shadows? … Holly Eve? … Naming
Ceremony? Jeez, you’re talkin’ another language.”

“I can’t believe you don’t know these things,”
Morrigan snapped at him.

“And just why
would
I?”

“Oh, never mind,” she answered.

Aishling glanced at her, wondering why she would
make such a statement. When she looked at Kelile, he had a frown burrowed into
his face.

“Don’t you be tellin’ me my mom’s a witch, too!
I’m havin’ nothin’ to do with that.” He stood up. “And, I don’t wanna know
about any of your witchy words or witchy ways, you two. I just wanna find that
stone and get the hell outta here.”

“But what do you plan to do with it when you get
it?” Morrigan asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure the bitch that’s
doggin’ me will let me know.” He walked away.

“So, it’s your mother’s
grimoire
,” Morrigan
said.

“No, it’s
mine
, from Ma and Da.”

“From your mother and father? I thought you didn’t
know your father?”

“I’m beginning to remember, now. That’s what you
interrupted this morning. I had a flashback of when Ma and I went to see him.”

“I don’t understand. Where is your father? In
another country?”

“No.”

“In jail?”

“No!”

“I don’t understand.”

“I think he lives in the
Otherworld
. Morri,
I think Da is one of the
Sidhe
,” Aishling whispered.

“What? No, that can’t be. That would make you
half-faery. No, you don’t have the magical abilities. And why didn’t he ever
come for you?” Morrigan shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Well … I don’t know for sure yet. I’m having a
hard time remembering things.” Aishling placed the stone and bell back into the
box and hugged her
grimoire
. “I’m going to read through this, and maybe
I’ll find out more.”

“That will take you forever. I have a better
idea.”

“What?”

“I saw
sacred datura
in your Garden of Life
and Death this morning. Let’s pick some of the leaves and crush them into a
paste. All you need to eat is a crushed handful, and your memory will sharpen
like a knife. Come on.” Morrigan stood, waiting.

Nausea flooded through Aishling. “I don’t know.
All of a sudden I feel sick.”

“That’s an added benefit of
sacred datura
.
Your memories will be restored, and you’ll feel great afterwards.”

Aishling rose, but felt another rush of nausea,
worse than the first. As she squatted back down, Morrigan grabbed her arms and
pulled her up again and toward the garden. “Come on, you’ll feel much better.
Trust me.”

When they got to the garden, Morrigan walked
around the arched gateway, through waist-high weeds. She broke off several
leaves from a four-foot plant. It had yellow-green branches and trumpet-shaped,
light blue flowers that looked like morning glories.

She returned to Aishling and nudged her toward the
rundown garage.

Once inside, Morrigan began browsing the dusty,
spider-web-filled shelves above a worktable.

“What are you looking for?” Aishling asked and
covered her mouth as another feeling of nausea overcame her.

“Do you have a mortar and pestle to mash these
leaves with?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Morri, I’m going to be sick.
Let’s do this later.” She grabbed her stomach.

“Here,” Morrigan said, pulling down a
medium-sized, marble bowl with a marble pestle in it. “I’ll clean this out and
make the paste.” She ran out of the garage.

No
…
no
. Aishling couldn’t stand up
much longer. Once outside, she staggered to the sleeping bag and collapsed.

“You okay?” Kelile rushed over. “Girl, you look
green!”

“Leave her alone, slave boy. I’m fixing something
that will make her feel better,” Morrigan said walking back over to Aishling.
She stood a few more seconds as she mashed the leaves inside the bowl.