Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins (22 page)

“It’s alright Greer. You don’t have to prove
anything,
” I said, as I stood next to him and tried to
soothe his temper.

I could feel his muscles twitching under his
shirt as I held onto his arm—I did not know how much longer he
could control his temper, and I hoped that my mother would not
provoke him any further.

“Mother, stop…
please,”
I begged.

“Silence Aislin!” she hissed at me.

She pointed at Greer, ignoring my pleading
and his rage, “You have not answered my question. How do you plan
to defeat Lamont?” Her voice was raised now and I flinched when I
saw the expression on Greer's face.

Greer stood and threw the table over in
anger, his eyes were fully black and his chest was heaving with his
frenzied breath, “I do not know!” he screamed at her in a booming
voice.

My mother did not shy away from Greer's
behavior. She raised a hand in a gesture to calm him, and spoke
with a softer tone, “I believe that you would do anything for
Aislin, but it is obvious that you do not know how to handle this
problem Greer.”

He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his
hands and I wondered if he was crying. I wrapped my arms around
him, no longer caring if my mother disapproved.

“We will have to figure this out together, so
you must calm yourself,” she insisted as she stepped over the
sideways table and went to get herself a cup of tea.

Greer stopped rubbing his eyes and set the
table upright again. “I am sorry for my temper.”

My mother did not answer but gestured for him
to sit again, “I know that you are not a normal mortal, but that
does not mean that you can take on a being with so much power. The
answer to our problem will not be found in strength alone. We are
going to need powerful magic,” she said kindly.

Greer looked at me with a sad expression, “I
will do anything you ask of me, as long as Aislin is safe.”

My mother looked into her empty teacup as
though she was seeing something of great importance, “The answer
will not come to us today, but we will find an answer if we work
together.”

********************

The first snow had fallen late in the
afternoon and it blanketed the backyard in a soft layer of white. I
had been tasked with finding all the information I could about dark
sorcerers in my book, but I had come up with nothing. Either there
was nothing to find, or the book was not ready to reveal its
information.

I found myself staring out into the backyard
from my bedroom window, deep in thought, as I watched the last
beams of light bouncing off the frost-covered branches of the
barren oak tree.

Sneachta jumped onto my bed and broke my
string of thoughts. This was not necessarily a bad thing, as my
mind was filled with horrible visions. Thoughts of being hunted by
an invincible foe flooded my mind. Images of an enemy who was more
powerful than I was, and protected by dark magic, would not leave
me alone.

Sneachta played with the thread that I was
supposed to be embroidering with, but I did not care. Watching her
toss the string in the air and scramble around was far more
entertaining than embroidery anyway.

The room was growing dark, and I lit a few
more candles so I could continue to search through the book. After
a while, I started finding pages that the book had not previously
revealed to me

Most of the information was not helpful,
though it stated that there existed a type of witch, called a
warlock
, which translated to the word
traitor
.
Warlocks took the dark path and could be any level of practitioner,
just like their counterparts. Now I finally had a name for what
Lamont was, a
Warlock
. The name fit him perfectly, for he
was a traitor. He stole powers from good witches and sold their
lives for profit and power. He turned his back on his own kind.
Thoughts of Lamont, the Warlock, were consuming me now. I needed to
know more. I needed to know how he used magic.
Was it the same
way I used magic only with different intentions? Or, was his Craft
completely different?
I kept searching.

Sneachta had long stopped playing with the
yarn and stretched herself out lazily across my pillows. I was
scratching her belly with my free hand as I flipped through the
pages, when the room went completely dark. All the candles that I
had lit blew out as though with one, frigid, breath and we were
plunged into utter darkness.

“Did you do that Sneachta?” I asked with a
shaky voice.

She jumped up as though something had
startled her and started yowling. She was pacing the length of the
bed and hissing wildly.

The room became unnaturally dark, and
bitterly cold. I could not see anything as I stumbled about the
room searching for my pocket of herbs. Then a smell overcame me. It
was horrible and I knew I had smelt it before—when Becky and I were
alone in the woods.

I reached my dresser and felt for my cloak,
where the pouch of herbs was folded inside. I franticly pulled at
the items in the drawer, and yanked the cloak free. I moved
swiftly, but every second seemed to take minutes. The pocket fell
to my feet as I hurriedly unfurled the cloak and I grasped it from
the floor. “Sneachta?” I whispered.

I could hear her growling in the darkness,
and I clutched the pocket tightly as I made my way over to her. I
knew we needed help, so I dove onto the bed and reached for the
book
that was resting on my pillow.

As I did, I felt something heavy depress upon
the mattress. It was right next to me and strange, deep, noises
were emanating from it. Each time it moved, the weight of the
creature threatened to collapse the bed that shuttered underneath
it. I was panic stricken, totally overcome by fear and the creature
sensed my emotions. I felt the bed shaking and the sheets moving
around me. The smell was so strong that I wanted to vomit from the
stench of it.
Suddenly, I felt great pain surging
through my body. It felt just the same as the day at the port, but
coupled with my current state of fear, I thought my heart would
fail me. I was in such agony that I could not even muster a cry for
help. My only chance was the book that lay just above my
outstretched hand.
The salts repelled the
beast before,
my mind screamed at me, and
I decided to reach into my pocket.
I thrust my hand back
toward my pocket and felt an ice-cold grip seize my wrist.

I screamed in pain as long, sharp, claws dug
into my arm.

Then Sneachta leaped at it, hissing and
snarling as she flew in the demon's direction. This was my one
chance to get help.

I sprung for the door and pulled hard upon
it, but it was jammed shut. I was trapped. I reached into my
pocket, grabbed a handful of herbs, and threw them at the bed. I
heard something hiss and retreat. I kept throwing the herbs and I
reached to Sneachta in the darkness.
Please be all right, please
Sneachta. Please be alive.

I could feel her body with my fingers and
then her sharp claws latched onto my outstretched hand.

“It's me,” I said, and she released her
grip.

I could smell the beast and I knew it was
still in the room. I had no light to see by, but I could feel
wetness, warm and sticky, on Sneachta's fur. She was injured.

“Help!” I screamed through my cries, “Please,
Greer, help!”

I picked her up and could feel her heart
beating quickly. My mother was pounding on the door trying to get
in, and screaming for me to let her in. Her cries were overpowered
by the sound of the demon moving around the room, its feet making
clanking
sounds on the floor as it encircled us. It was
knocking things over and throwing my trinkets at us as I kept
throwing herbs in any direction that I heard noise.

Then, within an instant, the smell was gone
and the creature had left. The candles burned again and the bedroom
door flung open.

In the light, I could see that Sneachta was
badly cut, but still alive. My mother pulled her from me and went
to dress her wounds. The red blood stood out clearly against her
white fur. I wanted nothing more than to tend to Sneachta, but felt
drawn to the window. I nearly fainted at the sight that I
beheld.

There stood Lamont, walking back into the
woods that surrounded my yard. His long black coat stood out
against the fresh snow, making him appear to be a dark shadow. He
turned for a moment and looked back at my window, as though he
could sense me there, but I retreated and he did not see me. Then,
within a second, he disappeared. He left not even a footprint in
the snow behind him.

********************

Sneachta had sustained horrible wounds but my
mother insisted that she would be fine. I held her while my mother
cleaned and dressed the injuries. She tried to bat me with her paws
a few times, but she never tried to bite.

We placed her in the sitting room on my
father's chair and my mother handed me a potion to sprinkle at each
doorway and window, while she lit candles and started to cast
spells.

I heard the back door open and found Greer
standing in the doorway. His dark coat covered in snow, and his
eyes intensely held upon me.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a whisper. He
looked rather shaken up.

“Aye,” I replied, but I was not okay. I was
terror-stricken.

He rushed in and slammed the door shut behind
him. I lunged forward and sealed the door with salt. He held my
face in his hands and seemed to be searching my thoughts. “You are
not well. Did it hurt you?” his voice was frantic.

“No . . . well, it clawed my arm, but
Sneachta was the one who was badly wounded,” as the words came out,
I heard my voice crack. I would be lost without my Sneachta and if
she died, it was to save me. I could not live with that
thought.

Greer pulled me into a hug and stroked my
hair, “Hush my love, she is a resilient cat. I am sure she will be
fine.”

As much as I wanted to be strong, I felt my
body betraying me. I was weeping into his chest. I could not lose
her. She was so loyal. She never thought of herself and always
looked to protect me. Yet, I had failed to protect her.

Greer held my right arm to the candlelight.
There was a short, but very deep, claw mark that ripped through my
skin and it was still bleeding. I had not even realized the
severity of the wound until now.

“You need to clean this and wrap it well,”
his eyes were turning dark and his breathing was shaky.

He moved my wrist from his sight and stepped
away from me.

“Lamont was here,” my mother said to Greer as
she washed Sneachta's blood off her hands. I showed my mother my
injury and she tended to it immediately.

Greer moved me into the sitting room so I
could be next to Sneachta. She was sleeping now, and did not seem
to be in pain.

“I know. I heard Aislin's cry for help and I
came as fast as I could, but I knew that I would never reach her in
time to fight off the demon. I realized my best hope was to
confound his mind, making him think that he was attacking a
diversion and that the real Aislin was somewhere else. It took a
great amount of effort to persuade him that he was under a spell,
and that he had the wrong person. His mind was fixed upon her so
strongly that I had just about given up and was about to enter her
room when I finally convinced him that she was not in the house . .
. that she was hidden in another home across town and then he fled
into the forest,” Greer said.

“How did you convince him of such things?” my
mother sounded suspicious.

Greer let me cling to his side as he answered
my mothers numerous questions. I just wanted her to leave us alone
for a while, but she was persistent.

“It is a gift that I possess. I can speak to
people in their minds and convince them to do things.” He did not
sound proud of his power. He sounded to be more ashamed of it.

“How can you do that without making contact,”
she was squinting her eyes at him as she stood with her arms
crossed, leaning against the doorway.

“Enough!” I screamed at her, “He is not
responsible for this. So either trust him or suspect him, but cease
your interrogation.”

She gave me a look of disapproval, but
realized that I was right. She was not helping. Greer had saved us,
again, and although she could not explain it, that did not make it
any less the truth.

“Where did you send him?” my mother
asked.

“I gave him a vision of a dark colored house
on the outskirts of town. The house does not exist, so he should be
searching all night. With any luck he will leave Burlington on a
quest to find this house that holds Aislin.”

“I doubt it,” my mother sighed, “But I think
it was a valiant effort on your part.” She looked down at Sneachta,
“She cannot stay here tonight,” she said without looking up.

Greer and I looked at each other.

“Mother, she is too weak to be outside,” I
said in an alarmed tone.

Greer, held back a smile and looked down at
me, his expression softening as he tapped the tip of my nose with
his finger. “She meant you, my love.”

My mother nodded her head in agreement, “You
must leave Aislin. I have a feeling that they will be back. You are
not safe.”

“I cannot leave Sneachta!” I protested,
“Greer just told you that he sent Lamont away. I need to be here
for her”

“You have no choice. She is too injured to
move and you must leave!”

“What about you? Will you be safe?” I asked
in a faltering voice.

“He is not after me. I will be fine.” She
caught me staring at my pet again, “Aislin I promise that she will
be fine too. Now you must leave or Sneachta will have been injured
for nothing.”