Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins (10 page)

Aislin my heart aches at the very thought of
what I must ask you to do, but it must be done. I cannot continue
to try to protect you from both the man that hunts you and the
cruelty of the Marthalers. If by chance, my identity is revealed,
all the tracking and work I have done to destroy this man and his
monster will be for nothing and you would be left defenseless.

Please do not fight with Zachariah or his
father anymore. You must, at least for time being, pretend that you
are willing to marry him and you must not tempt them to use their
hands against you.

Aislin, I vow to you that I will not allow
this wedding to occur. Please trust me and know that I will do
anything for you.

You are everything to me,

Greer

The letter trembled in my hands and the
disappointment that his words delivered sunk into the depths of my
heart.

I now understood the vision in the
bedchamber and how the Grey Man, Jamison Lamont, had found and
killed me in the arms of my lover. I knew that if Greer and I ran,
this was indeed my fate. The spirits had warned me of such things
and it was so. Even though I knew Greer was right, it did not
dampen the pain of rejection. My pride would be harmed when I would
be forced to publically submit myself to Zachariah’s will, but my
heart would break when I would be forced to deny my love for
Greer.

I made up my mind then and there that I
would never utter the words “I love you” to Zachariah, no matter
what consequences my defiance may bring. Zachariah would never have
my heart.

Sneachta allowed me to hold her and cry upon
her soft white fur. She abhorred being wet, but made no complaint
as I sobbed and buried my face into her shoulder and back.

“I love you Sneachta,” I said in a weak
voice before I drifted off to sleep.

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

I stood on a grass-covered hill, looking
into the night. Mist crept up around my feet and a soft, salty
breeze blew my long loose black hair behind me. Greer stood to my
left. He was covered in green, black and blue paint. He was
completely naked, but did not look ashamed or even aware of it. In
his right hand he held a broad sword and on his left forearm was
strapped a large shield.

I looked down and noticed that I was wearing
a long tunic and in my right hand, I too, carried a large, heavy
sword. I saw figures moving toward us under the veil of darkness,
and we simultaneously raised our weapons to the oncoming threat. My
mind told me that the soldiers were Romans and that they had come
to eradicate us and take our land for themselves. We were
considered barbarians and savages. In the Roman’s eyes, we were
better off dead.

I glanced at Greer from the corner of my eye
and he nodded. We charged directly into the path of the invaders
and we fought. I moved with the grace of a cat and leaped at my
opponents, swinging my sword in great arches. I struck numerous
soldiers with each sweeping arc. Greer moved like a great bear,
charging, lunging and using his brute strength to finish off his
foes.

Within minutes, the battle was over. The
Romans had sent strong and valiant men to fight us, but they had
not sent enough. We left their bodies where they fell and went back
into our fortress, leaving the blood of the invaders to nourish our
soil and feed the wildlife that had just as much a right to remain
on this land as we did.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Zachariah was standing outside the tavern
with his friends: Clement, Jeremiah and Alden, when I passed by on
my way to purchase thread for my mother. She had decided that as
long as I kept all my charms with me and stayed in public places,
that I could occasionally venture outside. The whole town was ill
at ease with the presence of the strange beast and so local groups
of men were patrolling the village both day and night. I was
grateful to be out of the house, although seeing Zachariah darkened
my mood.

“Aislin,” he called out, as I passed where
he stood.

I pretended that I had not seen him standing
there, and did my best to smile when I finally turned to
acknowledge him.

“Hello Zachariah,” I kept walking, but he
ran to catch up with me.

“Would you like to have a drink with me in
the Tavern?” he asked.

I was very tempted to give him a swift push
and say no, but I thought about Greer’s request and I gave in.

“I am sorry Zachariah. I promised my mother
that I would buy her thread and then come straight home. She is
making my gown for the Ball and needs the thread immediately.”

He looked crest fallen at my rejection and I
knew I had to do something to keep him from becoming angry. I had
to respect Greer’s wishes.

“Would you mind accompanying me to the shops
instead?” I asked half-heartedly.

Disappointment faded from his face and he
gave me his arm to hold. As I took his arm, I watched him flash a
triumphant smile back to his friends who all huddled together by
the tavern door ogling at us. I wanted to vomit but I remained
collected. Instead, I smiled and waved to Jeremiah, who in reply
smiled and waved back to me.

Jeremiah had always been kind to me. Seeing
him reminded me of when we were younger and Zachariah had insisted
that we all trek deep into the woods and watch him hunt deer with
his father’s new rifle. On the way back, one of the hunting hounds
got a thorn deeply embedded in its paw and could not walk. The
other boys wanted to shoot the dog or simply leave it there to die,
but Jeremiah insisted on carrying the animal home to his father,
the town doctor, so that its paw could be mended. Jeremiah and I
walked slowly behind the others as he carried the heavy dog over
his shoulders. It took a long while for us to negotiate the long
journey back to town, and the others left us behind, but Jeremiah
never gave up.

Now, looking at the young men that
surrounded him and knowing the true nature of his heart, I could
not understand why he associated with the other retched boys. They
were nothing alike. Then again, Abigail and I were no longer
alike—perhaps Jeremiah was holding on to the memory of friendships
that once were, just as I was clutching to the remaining shreds of
the Abigail I once knew.

Zachariah and I walked towards the shops and
he strutted like a rooster for all to see. I loathed the stares and
whispers and looked down at the ground to fend off eye contact with
others.

“This is nice,” he said, as he caught our
reflection in the apothecary shop’s window.

I forced a smile but I did not reply. His
arm felt scrawny and rather bony to the touch, even the wool of his
coat was rough and uncomfortable to my skin.

When we reached the shop, I picked out the
thread that my mother had requested and went to pay for it, but
Zachariah pushed my hand aside and reached into his own pocket.

“I do the paying from now on,” he said in an
authoritative voice—more so for the benefit of the merchant than
for me. I was his property and he was determined that everybody
knew it.

“I will walk you home,” he said, as we left
the shop.

“No Zachariah. I have taken up too much of
your time already. I will find my way home.”

He looked down at me. I was almost a foot
shorter than he was, and felt rather like a child.

“No. There is talk of a strange beast
wandering about and I have personally seen what this creature is
capable of. I will make sure that you get home without coming to
any harm.”

I laughed a little, “Zachariah, it is me,
Aislin. The girl you used to climb trees with and catch frogs with
in the stream. You do not need to be so formal with me. I am quiet
capable of fending for myself,” I said proudly.

His expression softened and he seemed a bit
embarrassed. “This is true. We have always been friends. Come, I
will walk you home, but I will try to remember that you were always
the one who caught all the snakes with your bare hands.”

We walked in silence for a while and
although I hoped the silence would sustain, it did not.

“Aislin, why were you so difficult when you
found out about my proposal?”

I thought about what I would like to
say—about how he was a sniveling little boy who depended upon his
father for everything. How his father was a tyrannical bastard, and
how I loathed his entire family with the exception of Abigail. I
realized these comments would be contradictory to Greer’s request
and I tried a different approach.

“Your proposal came suddenly Zachariah. You
never mentioned a desire to marry me before. Your father hit me in
public and then, on the same day, you came into my home and told me
that I am to be your wife. I do not know how other girls would
react, but I was angry that…” I trailed off. I was going to tell
him that I was angry because I was not in love with him and that I
loved another.

“What were you saying Aislin?”

I realized I had to answer in a way that
would not cause this boy to strike me. “I was angry that you did
not ask me yourself,” I said quietly. The words made my skin
crawl.

Zachariah was quiet for a long while. He
seemed lost in thought and I stared at the wooden gate that led to
my home, wishing that I could just run to it and get away from
him.

“You think my father was harsh, but he was
kind to you. He could have had you flogged for what you did and
would have been right in doing so. But then again, we couldn’t have
you with a scarred back for our wedding night,” he smiled
sinisterly.

I looked away from him and clenched my
fingers tightly together, envisioning my fist reaching his jaw. I
refused to reply to his comments and kept my gaze toward the
ground.

“Do you love me Aislin?” he asked
confidently.

My head snapped up at his question and I
grimaced. I was shocked that he would ask for a declaration of love
after telling me that I should have been whipped in public. I would
not lie and I would not betray my love for Greer. I knew that this
would eventually come up, but I had hoped that I would not have to
face such an inquiry so soon.

“I have known you since we were children. I
guess you are like a brother to me,” I replied.

He stiffened at my words but did not seem
deterred. “My father says that love is important to women but is
inconsequential to men. He says that you will learn to love me in
time because that is the nature of women. As far as I am concerned,
you are the only woman I desire and that is reason enough for me to
make you my wife.”

I quietly walked to the gate with my eyes
cast downward, hoping to avoid his gaze. He leaned in close to kiss
me but I turned my cheek to him. His kiss was wet and felt slimy on
my skin.

“We will do well together,” he said, as he
swung the gate open and let me pass.

I went inside, handed my mother her thread,
and immediately went to my room to wash my face.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Abigail sat across from me,
sipping her tea with her back to the grand entrance of their
home.
“I am glad that we are getting to spend time
together,” she said.

She and Zachariah came to my home
unannounced in the early morning to escort me to High Tea at their
house. I was adamantly against attending, but I found no good
excuse to pardon myself from their request. I had my mother help me
dress, and I went with them.

“It is nice to be with you too, Abigail. I
have missed you.”

I enjoyed her company but felt rather out of
place in the Marthaler home. Everything about the massive house was
off-putting—from the uncomfortable chairs, to the dead silence that
seemed to envelope the place.

The room we were in was wide and long. It
had a tall ceiling that made even the smallest of sounds bounce off
the walls in an echo. As I accidently clicked the heels of my shoes
together, I was reminded of how imposing the Marthaler home really
was.

Abigail gave me a scathing look, reminding
me of my etiquette, and I shifted uncomfortably in the rigid, high
backed chair—which, coupled with my stay, made for an unfathomably
uncomfortable experience. I glanced around the sitting room as I
tried to ignore the discomfort that I felt.

The decorating style of Mrs. Marthaler did
not make me feel in the least bit welcome. Portraits of Zachariah
and Mathew were displayed on the stark white walls, and I watched
as servants carefully dusted the frames. Expensive statues from
Italy sat on display pillars, and crystal vases sat in places
where, with one wrong turn, I could easily knock them over. I tried
to make note of all the expensive possessions so that I would not
accidently bring financial debt to my parents.

I looked over Abigail’s shoulder and watched
as more servants polished the banister of the grand staircase that
led to the bedrooms. Behind me, large windows overlooked the
backyard.

A woman dressed in a crisp white uniform
poured me some tea.

“Thank you,” I said.

The servant’s eyes grew wide and she quickly
looked down.

“You do not need to talk to them,” Abigail
laughed at me, “Mother says you are too concerned with savages and
slaves. Now that you will be marrying into our family, you must
learn to behave like a proper lady,” she said in a haughty
tone.

Abigail did not mean to be rude. She was too
enveloped in her mother and father’s ideals to see that she was
becoming as arrogant and self centered as they were. I looked down
into my teacup and swirled the tea around. My thoughts drifted to a
few years earlier when Abigail was sweet and kind. She had a loving
heart and was caring toward all others. Now she was tainted;
transformed by her parent’s maleficent desires for power and
fortune. I pitied her. Even more so, I missed the friend I once
had.