Faelorehn (12 page)
I clicked on the word
pagan
since it was highlighted, and that took me to a definition. Growing up, I had been led to believe that
pagan
was synonymous with
devil worshipper
. Apparently I had been wrong. I read a few examples, nodding at the list of ancient civilizations that practiced pagan belief systems: the Romans, Greeks, Egyptians, and of course, the Celts to name a few. According to this site, most pagan cultures worshiped a multitude of gods and considered the earth and its bounty to be sacred. That didn’t seem too bad at all. In fact, it sounded much like Robyn’s own belief system.
I clicked on the link that brought me back to the main page. I looked over the different headings, my eyes halting when I read one that said
Celtic Gods and Goddesses
. I moved my cursor above it and clicked. Once again, I was greeted with a list. I scrolled down the screen, trying to figure out how to pronounce each name as it passed: Balor, the Dagda, Danu, Donn, Epona, Lugh . . .
It was when I got to the Morrigan that I stopped. I read it carefully, remembering Robyn’s Halloween costume. But something else seemed familiar about the name as well . . .
Cade’s voice suddenly played in my mind: “
Cumorrig. Hounds of the Morrigan . . .
”
I clicked on the name without so much as an afterthought.
The Morrigan: major Celtic deity that is often represented in the three aspects of Neaim, Macha and Badb. She is mostly associated with war and the battlefield and is often depicted in animal form, most commonly the raven.
I stopped reading, my eyes glued to the last word of that sentence. A raven. My mind flashed back to the day I stood waiting for Tully and the afternoon I had cut my finger with the potato peeler. Both times I had seen a raven, too big to be a natural bird. And both times it had watched me, I was sure of it.
My skin prickled and I glanced out my sliding glass door. It was getting late, twilight descending on my backyard like a blanket. I got up and checked to see if the door was still locked. It was. I grabbed the comforter from my bed, wrapped myself in it, and sat back down at my desk. I pulled out my binder, found the section where I had written down my notes from Cade’s letter, and quickly jotted down the paragraph about the Morrigan.
Setting my binder aside, I returned to the site’s home page. I had read enough about gods and goddesses for the time being. I clicked on the
Otherworldly Creatures
tab. This gave me a list of things with strange names and descriptions: Leprechauns, silkies, fairies, changelings; your usual list. The little creatures that had followed me weren’t listed, but a few descriptions from other creatures matched. I decided they either hadn’t been prevalent in ancient Ireland, or people’s sightings had been sketchy.
Further down the page, I spotted a link that read
familiar animals
. Curious, I opened that link, only to find a Celtic design of several known animals accompanied by a short description. The paragraph above them said that often, animals from the Otherworld were seen by the Celts. Otherworldly animals were very distinctive, and although they were similar to earthly animals in physical makeup, they tended to be larger and white with reddish or rusty colored ears.
My heart thudded in my chest. Fergus. Cade’s dog. He was huge, white, and had ruddy colored ears. And so did the dog from my childhood memories.
I quickly closed the web page and took several deep breaths. This was too much. It was as if, all my life, I had been puttering around grasping for answers, and they had been just out of my reach. Now, they were here, splayed before me in plain sight. But one big question still remained: what did all of this have to do with
me
? Why was I suddenly surrounded by symbols and creatures from an ancient pagan belief system?
Or worse,
I thought, my mouth dried as I tried to swallow,
had these things been around me my entire life, and I was just now noticing them?
The voices, the visions. Had they all been clues and answers trying to break down some invisible barrier?
I had to talk to Cade. I didn’t trust him, I didn’t know him, but he seemed to be the only one who had any clue about what was really happening to me.
Trying to fall asleep that night was a joke. How could I, what with all I had just learned? I glanced over at the clock, its glowing red letters burning an image in my mind. It was just after twelve, but I couldn’t sleep. Frustrated, I kicked the sheets back and crawled over to my desk. Ripping a piece of lined paper out of my binder, I wrote:
Cade,
I researched the ancient Celts like you suggested. If you are still willing to help me, I have lots of questions to ask. Can you meet me after school next Tuesday? We get out at 2:30.
Meghan
It was crazy. I was going to ask a strange man to help me answer the biggest mysteries of my life. He could be lying. He could be insane. He could be some sadistic creep who planned to murder me and save my fingernails as trophies. I shivered. As much as my common sense wanted to steer me down a different path, something deeper, something more primitive was fighting to escape the cage I had put it in years ago.
Once the letter was written and I had made the decision to leave it in the oak tree in the morning, I was a little more successful at falling asleep. I thought my dreams would be haunted that night, but instead of the usual goblins and trolls creeping around and cackling at me, I dreamt of a place so beautiful and calm I thought I might weep. I walked through gently rolling country, spongy with damp moss and thick grass. Flowers bloomed everywhere, despite the soft, cool mist that hung in the air. The hills were littered with lichen-encrusted stones, great and small, and in the distance I could see trees that belonged to a very old forest.
I crested one of the hills and it was then that the mist parted and revealed a small, verdant valley and what could only be an old castle, not quite in ruins, nestled against the hillside. It was covered in wild ivy and a sluggish stream trickled past it. Just as the sun was piercing through the fog, scattering its light against the castle’s diamond-paned windows, I woke up.
My alarm clock read three in the morning. Sighing, I slouched back into my pillows. I reached up and touched my cheeks. They were wet. Shock coursed through me as I realized I had been crying. But the dream hadn’t been terrifying or depressing. As I drifted back to sleep, I realized I had been crying because of the beauty of the place and the knowledge that somehow I knew I had been there before.
* * *
The next morning, before school, I slipped through the glass door for the first time in days and crept down onto the wide path leading into the swamp. It was another foggy morning, the cold dewy air rolling over my skin and clogging my lungs. I found the tree almost immediately; the only oak standing amidst the tall, pale-barked eucalyptus on this side of the woods. The knothole was a little harder to find, hidden by a branch and just out of reach.
Once I located it, I glanced over my note once more, rolled it into a tube, and slipped it into the hollow of the tree. Making sure that no one was watching me, I climbed back up the hill, casting my eyes around and listening for Otherworldly creatures. Not until I was safely back inside my room, my door closed and locked behind me, did I wonder once again if I had made the right choice.
Rescued
I became obsessed with checking the oak tree for Cade’s response. That afternoon when I got home from school, I went down to see if my note was still lodged inside the knothole. It was. An unwelcome pang of disappointment overwhelmed me, but a few mornings later when I checked, it was gone.
Giddy relief flooded my senses, and I had to tell myself it wasn’t because my chances of seeing Cade again had just increased. No, I wasn’t interested in him. First of all, he was in his early twenties, at least. Even if he wasn’t the serial killer my conscience kept trying to paint him as, he was too old for me. Nope, I just wanted to see him again because he might have some answers for me.
But those eyes, dark green at first and as changeable as your own . . .
a tiny voice whispered in my mind.
Ah! Stop it Meg,
I chastised myself,
boys have never been interested in you, remember? Why would this time be any different? And since when have you not been afraid of him? He took on a half a dozen of those hellhounds without getting so much as a scratch.
I shivered, hugging my binder close. It was Friday, only four more days until I was going to meet him again. That is, if he was still willing to meet. I still hadn’t received an answer to my letter, and there was still plenty of time to remind myself that Cade MacRoich was closer to being an obsessive stalker than a charming college student I should in no way, shape, or form be interested in.
* * *
By Sunday morning I had given up on Cade. Maybe I had imagined him after all. I spent some time cleaning my room, doing a load of laundry and picking up the clutter that always littered my floor. I turned on my radio and cranked it up loud so I could hear the music over the vacuum cleaner. It was no surprise then that I screamed when I turned to find the white wolfhound sitting stoically just outside my sliding glass door. Luckily, Mom had dragged my brothers out shopping for clothes and Dad was at a friend’s house watching a football game. Wouldn’t want them to think there was anything wrong with me . . .
I turned down the radio and switched off the vacuum cleaner. I glared at the dog, Fergus, annoyed at his ghostly appearance. It was only after my heart stopped racing that I realized perhaps he was here to deliver a message. I snorted. Yeah right. I had been ignoring this strange, supernatural stuff all my life, why was I welcoming it with open arms now?
Sighing, I walked over to the door, flipped the latch to unlock it, and slid it open. Fergus blinked at me once and opened his mouth to start panting. Cocking an eyebrow, I reached down to pet him. I’d never really tried to pet him before, unless you counted my dreams, and if that was even him in my dreams.
Before my hand made contact with his wiry head, he turned and loped off towards the far edge of the yard. He paused and looked over his shoulder. I was wearing a spaghetti strap tank top and my old ratty sweats. My hair was roughly wrapped in a bun and held there with an old clip. I didn’t look my best. Shrugging, I sought out my sandals and slipped my feet into them and grabbed an old sweatshirt on the way out. It was closer to evening than noon, and the late autumn air was chilly. As I walked, I could feel the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. Would Cade be waiting for me? And I had decided to go out looking like a heathen?
Turned out, I had nothing to worry about. Fergus merely led me to the old oak tree where he proceeded to sit down and whine. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out he wanted me to check the knothole. Inside was a note, written on the same type of paper as last time with the same Celtic seal.
Meghan,
Of course I will still help you. Until Tuesday then.
C.M.
p.s. Keep away from the forest until you see me next.
I couldn’t tell you why that simple note made me feel like I was strolling down the beach on a warm summer day. Or, most likely, if I told you the real reason I’d have to go back and re-evaluate my sanity. Let’s just say, I was finally going to have some answers, after all my years of fearing to ask them. Yes, that was it.
Fergus escorted me back to my house, not leaving until he heard the lock snap in place on my door. I glanced over my room then turned to look at the white hound with the red ears once again. He was gone. I shouldn’t have been surprised. According to my research, he was Otherworldly and probably had oodles of magical abilities. Ah, so I was finally admitting I believed in all this supernatural stuff. Oh well, what else was I to do?
I spent the remainder of the afternoon finishing homework and choosing my clothes for school the next day. Dad got home around five, Mom soon after. She had picked up pizza for dinner, so claiming I still had homework to do, I grabbed a few slices and headed back downstairs. I escaped just in time. My brothers, having endured a day of shopping with Mom, had just unleashed all their pent-up energy from minding their manners all day.
Actually feeling worn out for once, I decided to set my Celtic research aside for one day. Besides, I had an appointment with Cade on Tuesday and I was hoping he would fill me in on anything important I might have missed. A tingle of dread passed through me as I lay in bed, trying to will my mind to calm down so I could fall asleep. The funny thing was, I honestly couldn’t tell if my jitters were a result of anticipation at seeing Cade again, or fear that this was all some huge mistake.
* * *
I woke up the next morning feeling restless and groggy. I couldn’t remember my dream from the night before, but I had a feeling it hadn’t been a pleasant one. It took me forever to get ready for school, so Mom ended up taking me on her way to work. The public high school, since it had so many students, started classes at different times throughout the day. Mom’s first English class didn’t start until later in the morning. This is why I usually got a ride with Thomas or Tully, but on those special occasions when I was running late, Mom was my chauffeur.
