Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins (39 page)

That story haunted me now. It had been over a
month and I had received no sign from Greer. I spent most of the
day in bed and most of the night by my window. My injuries from my
final encounter with Lamont were not as severe as I would have
believed from the hexes he had used against me.

My dress had been soaked in blood, but the
only lacerations I had received were from the braches whipping
against my face and an occasional scrape along my knees and legs.
My ribcage was now wrapped in cloth for support, and the cut on my
right hand from Zachariah's cutlass was nothing more than a fading
scar. I did not care. I used my injuries as an excuse to be
alone.

I lay in bed, knees into my chest and arms
wrapped around them, tears streaming down my face.

My mother and father came into my room with
breakfast, and placed it on my bedside table.

“Has anyone found Sneachta?” I asked without
looking up.

“No darling. No one has seen her,” my mother
replied.

My father placed a newspaper next to me, “I
think that the beast might have gotten to Sneachta,” he said
gently. “There is a whole article dedicated to it in this week's
paper. Maybe you could read it when you feel up to it?”

I ignored his request and waited for them to
leave the room. I loved my parents, but the idea of communicating
with another person seemed to cause me great internal pain. There
was a cloud of heaviness that had settled upon my heart. No one had
the means to remove it.

Instinctually I reached over to pet Sneachta,
as I had done since I was a small child, but she was not there. I
reached up to touch the necklace that Greer had given me, but it
was not there. I was left with nothing but a few letters to
remember Greer by.

I read them so often that I could now recite
them from memory. I could hear his voice in my mind as I held his
letters in my hands, but when I placed them back in their envelopes
I found myself utterly and bitterly alone.

Lamont had won. I was left alive, but
lifeless. His story of my past hung in my mind and repeated over
and over. In my heart, I knew he was right. I had been a dark
sorceress.

This truth frightened me. I kept recalling
the expression on Becky's face when she saw me torturing Lamont and
her stopping me from performing dark magic. She never mentioned
that moment, but I wondered if it worried her. I know it troubled
me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

My father entered my room before he left for
work in the early morning, “I thought you would like to see this,”
he said, placing an envelope in my hand.

My mother pulled back the curtains in my
room and let light pour through the windows and onto my face. I
squinted and winced as my eyes adjusted.

“You cannot live by candlelight. You must get
out of this prison you have made for yourself at some point,” my
mother quipped.

My father seemed anxious and fiddled with his
pockets as he spoke at the foot of my bed, “Your Greer . . . it
turns out that he was not such a bad person after all. I, ahh . . .
well let's just say he was not a fraud,” he walked from the room,
shutting the door behind him.

I examined the letter that was in my hands.
The envelope was opened, but the deep red wax seal still clung to
the paper. There was a crest upon the seal. It was smeared so I
could not read the font that adorned it, but I could make out a
rams head in the center of the pressed circle. I traced my fingers
across it and then pulled the letter from the envelope.

The handwriting was beautiful and official.
It was an itemized list of Greer's holdings, both his estates in
Scotland and Aragon, Spain. His family's artwork, gold, gems, and
currency were all listed for my father to see.

I held the letter in between my shaking
fingers. I knew that this paper had never touched Greer's hands,
but I still felt as though it was a little connection to him. I
treasured it. I read it numerous times until I memorized every
curve of the script and every smudge from the quill.

Finally, I placed it with Greer's other
letters in the back of my book. These items were all I had left of
him.

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

Daylight was sneaking through my closed
curtains. I rolled over to turn away from the light, but I heard
the door to my room open and the sound of little footsteps bounding
from one side of my bed to the other.

A little body jumped on the bed and lifted my
arm up, then snuggled underneath and rested its head on my pillow.
Becky had been spending a lot of her spare time with me now. Often
she would just sit next to me and brush my hair, telling me about
the events that were going on in town. We both felt as though we
were sisters. We had many good reasons to feel that way.

“Hello Auntie Aislin,” Isaac said, as he
pushed my hair out of his way.

“Hello Isaac,” I replied weakly.

“Isaac, do not crowd her,” Becky scolded
him.

“It is okay. I like having Isaac around,” I
took a deep breath and tried to steady the pain that seemed to seep
from my voice. “How are you Becky?”

Becky seated herself in the chair by my bed,
“I am very well,” she smiled, “I have news to share with you.”

Isaac pulled my book out from underneath my
pillow and started flipping through the pages. Beautiful pictures
were magically drawn before him, and as he turned from page to
page, a story unfolded.

“Well?” I asked, examining her expression. I
had not seen her filled with such joy in a very long time.

She looked at me and smiled brightly, “It is
such wonderful news, that I cannot fully believe it myself. Mr.
Sutphin sold me to your father this morning, before he and Abigail
left for Virginia, and your father granted me my freedom. I am no
longer in servitude Aislin!” she jumped up from the chair and
bounced on the bed on top of Isaac and me, hugging us both.

“Becky that's wonderful!” I smiled back. This
was the first smile that my face had felt in so long that I could
not remember.

“It was Greer. I am sure of it,” she said
brightly.

“Oh . . .” I whimpered. Hearing his name shot
daggers into my very soul.

Becky hugged me, “Don't cry dear friend,” she
said soothingly.

“Can we play now?” Isaac asked, as he closed
the book and slipped it back under my pillow.

“I don't think your Aunt is up for playing
today,” Becky interjected.

“I'm all right. Really,” I insisted.

In actuality, playing with Isaac was the only
enjoyable activity I had anymore. He never asked me questions about
past events. He never told me that I should let the soldiers court
me like my father had started doing. Furthermore, Isaac never
mentioned Greer.

Isaac scooted to the base of my bed and
pulled a little ball of yarn from his pocket. I sat against my
pillows and waited. He then willed the ball into the air and we
tossed it back and forth to each other without ever using our
hands.

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

Isaac and Becky left as the sunlight was
fading. My mother came in and lit my candles with one of her own so
I was not sitting in the dark.

“You needn't bother,” I said, as I flicked my
fingers at the unlit candles and watched the wicks burst into
flame.

My mother shook her head in frustration, “You
cannot just brandish your magic like that Aislin.”

I scowled at her, “Or what will happen? Will
my grandmother be tried as a witch? Will my nephew be kidnapped or
my faerie be killed? Will my beloved . . .” I broke off into
silence as I choked back my tears.

My mother rolled her eyes and folded her
arms, “You need to move on. This lamenting of yours has gone on
long enough.” She sat herself on my bed and reached for my hand.
“Somewhere in this world is another eligible man just for you…”

I cut her off, as my anger made my voice
tremble, “No. There is only one. There has always only been
one
.”

My mother left the room without another word.
Things had not been right between us in a long time, and I was
beginning to wonder if we would ever be happy around each other
again.

I did not want to think about my dwindling
relationship with my mother right now. I needed something to get my
mind off all those who surrounded me. I picked up the paper that my
father had placed on my bed days before and started reading it.

JAMISON LAMONT: THE WITCH HUNTER OF
BURLINGTON

By Gerlad Collins

After much deliberation, the Governor's
office has concluded that the strange events that have plagued
Burlington are the work of the very person who was chosen to rid
the town of such evil.

After the recent massacre in the forest by
the Leeds' property, the mysterious Jamison Lamont disappeared.
Interestingly, these events occurred directly adjacent to where he
was lodging.

Mr. Leeds was unable to comment about the
strange happenings that have surrounded his home, except to say
that the night of the massacre, his children and the mid-wives all
claimed to have heard musket shots and a great commotion outside
the home. He would not comment on the pentagram that was burned
into the earth of his front yard. He explained that after the
terrible murders that have happened around town, he instructed the
occupants of his home to stay indoors and ignore the ruckus. Mr.
Leeds insists that he and his family did not witness any of the
crimes committed on his land.

The Governor has constructed a search party
to bring in Mr. Lamont.

I flipped through the pages as I wondered if
my father still found Greer to be guilty for all the crimes in
Burlington. Then another article caught my attention.

THE DEVIL OF NEW JERSEY

By Gerald Collins

Numerous residents of Burlington have
reported recent sightings of a strange beast. The first reports
came from a midwife who was leaving the Leeds' residence after
helping to deliver the Leeds' thirteenth child on January 10th.
Soldiers who were patrolling the Pine Barrens gave other accounts.
All reports described the same defining features of a beast that
stands six feet tall, has cloven hooves, clawed front paws, the
wings of a bat, and the face of a horse.

I put the paper down and thought of the
necklace. Becky never told me where she buried it, for fear that I
would miss Greer so terribly that I would go in search of it. In
truth, she was wise to do so. I missed him so desperately that I
was not sure I could trust myself anymore.

CHAPTER THRITY-NINE

Becky came in the morning and sat with me.
She brushed my hair in hopes to lift my spirits, or perhaps because
it was tattered due to my lack of general concern regarding my
appearance. Her expression was solemn and uncharacteristic.

“What is wrong Becky?” I asked, after a
prolonged time of silence.

She looked at me as though I had broken her
from a trance, “Aislin, your parents are sending you away. They do
not think you can heal from your heartbreak here,” she said.

She pulled the top of my hair high onto the
crown of my head and fastened it.

My heart thudded hard. I could not leave. I
had to wait for Greer.

“I cannot go,” I stammered, “What if he comes
back. What if he cannot find me?”

“He is not coming back,” my mother said
coldly, as she walked into the room.

I felt my eyes burn for tears but none came—I
had none left. “Please, please do not do this to me,” I begged.

“It is done Aislin,” she said sternly, as she
placed a dress on the bed, “You are a month away from your
twentieth birthday. It is time to stop protesting like a child,”
she slammed the door behind her.

I had not noticed it before, but now that I
looked around, I saw that my room was void of the majority of my
possessions.

“Things happen for a reason. You must believe
that,” Becky whispered, as she continued to style my hair. She
handed me a powder to apply to my face.

“No! I will not. I am not leaving,” I yelled
at her, pulling my hair from her hands.

Becky just looked at me with the same look
she would give Isaac if he were being disobedient, “Get over here
Aislin,” she said.

“I don't want to leave you. You and Isaac are
the only things that bring me any joy,” I sobbed.

Becky put her hand on my shoulder, her eyes
filled with tears, but she swallowed hard and spoke, “I will miss
you Aislin. You are my sister and that will never change,” she
pulled me into a hug.

She reached past me and took the corset and
undergarments from the bed.

“I have to do this. Please, let's not fight
in our last hours together,” she pleaded.

I sank onto the bed and did not complain any
further. It did not matter where I went anyway. Nothing mattered
anymore.

She finished my hair, leaving the bottom half
flowing down my back and over my shoulder and the top part
cascading down on top of it. Then she powdered my face, added a
crimson berry juice to my lips to stain them deep red, and started
pulling on my corset. I clutched onto the bedpost while she laced
it tight. My ribs were improved, but not enough to make this
experience anywhere near pleasant.

Finally, she took the gown off the bed and
helped me step into it. I remembered this material as I ran my
fingers along the bodice—it was the silk that Greer had purchased
for me.

My heart fluttered and I turned to Becky with
a hopeful expression. She kept her eyes down, but a smile was
creasing the sides of her mouth.

“Becky?” I closed my eyes as I felt
butterflies filled my stomach, “Is this my wedding gown?” I asked
hesitantly.