Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins (16 page)

The Minister rambled on about Zachariah being
from a good, God-fearing family and about how devout Zachariah was.
He encouraged all the youth of the congregation to be more like the
Marthaler children, and begged the young women of the congregation
to find young men to marry that were like Zachariah. I found it
difficult to refrain from snickering, and I felt the sharp kick of
my mother's shoe more than once.

After the sermon was over, my mother and I
rose to leave but we were surrounded by the other church members.
Girls that never bothered talking to me now hugged me and told me
how envious they were that I was chosen to be Zachariah's promised
bride. Mothers hugged and wept with Mrs. Marthaler, while others
congratulated my mother for the success of such a strong match
between Zachariah and me. It was too much to bear and I wondered if
they really knew the boy's true nature would feel the same about
him? Looking at the envious faces that surrounded me, I believed
that they would.

I looked passed the swarm of women and saw
Martha and Becky. They were still against the wall, and the
Minister was talking to them. Actually, it was as though he was
interrogating them. I broke away from the crowd and moved in closer
to hear the conversation.

I could not hear exactly what was being said
to them, but one word caught my attention.
'Witchcraft.
'
They were staring at the ground and the Minister was hovering over
them when I walked up behind him. I had to get him away from my
friends.

“Sir,” I said tapping him on the shoulder,
“your sermon was wonderful today.”

He turned around sharply, but his expression
softened when he saw that I was complementing him.

“Thank you Miss Collins. I am praying for
your fiancé and know that you are as well.”

I hoped that Martha and Becky would take the
opportunity to escape, but they stood perfectly still. There must
have been brutal consequences for leaving unexcused.

“Do you think that Zachariah will heal fairly
quickly?” I asked, trying to draw his mind away from my
friends.

“His wounds are numerous and deep. They will
take awhile to mend. When did you see him last?” he asked
intently.

“Yesterday. I stayed by his side until the
evening.”

“You are a Godly young woman Miss Collins. I
am glad to see that you have a heart full of charity and love.” He
looked over at Martha and Becky, “Tell me Miss Collins, what do you
know of these two?” he said pointing to where they stood.

“They are good women Minister. Just the other
night, Becky guided me home from the Marthaler's house so that I
would not have to walk alone in the dark. She led me in prayer the
whole way back.”

“What kind of prayers?” his eyebrows furrowed
as he looked upon Becky with suspicion.

“Psalms, sir. We prayed other prayers too,
did we not Becky? I was too frightened to remember. Which other
prayer did we say?” I asked encouragingly.

Becky looked up at me, “The Lord's prayer
ma'am,” she replied in a timid voice.

The Minister's cold demeanor faded just
slightly. “Do you believe that these women are serving the
Lord?”

“Aye sir. I know that they serve the Lord
with all their hearts. If it was not for Becky's reverent prayers,
we would have been lost the other night.”

He seemed satisfied with my answer. “I have
been told that there is witchcraft being practiced in town and
fingers have been pointed to these two,” he said. “What do you
think of that?”

Uneasiness started to flow through me, but I
hindered it from shattering the calmness of my voice, “These women
are not capable of such acts. They are good Christians. If you
need, I can get my father to testify for them… and my mother as
well.”

At that moment, my mother appeared at my side
and placed her hands on my shoulders.

“You should not be keeping the good Minister
from his business Aislin.”

“Mrs. Collins, your daughter has told me that
you and your husband would vouch for the spiritual wholeness of
these two slaves. What do you think of that?”

My mother nodded her head, “Of course we
would. They are devout women.”

“Well, that is good enough for me. You may
go,” he said waving a hand at the two women to dismiss them.

“Who would accuse them of such atrocities,”
my mother asked.

The Minister shook his head and smiled,
“These are not things that you should concern yourself with my dear
lady. Now go in peace and serve the Lord.”

My mother and I turned from the Minister's
company and left the church in hast. Abigail and her mother were
still surrounded by the congregation outside the church doors and
when we walked passed them, Mrs. Marthaler grabbed my arm.

“Will you come back and tend for Zachariah?”
she asked loud enough for all to hear.

Now all the townswomen's eyes were upon
me.

“Let me tend to my mother first. She is not
feeling well,” I lied.

I could hear tisks and huffs from the other
woman as they found my response to be unsatisfactory.

She loosened her grip on my arm, “Well come
as soon as you can.”

She turned to Abigail and then started to
walk with a group of women back to their home for lunch. We were
not invited to such formal lunches. Our status was not high enough,
and Mrs. Marthaler did not want to be embarrassed by my mother or
myself anymore than could be helped.

We walked slowly behind the other groups of
women. Martha and Becky trailed behind us with the other slaves. I
noticed as we passed some of the merchant shops that many of the
girls were staring in the same direction, as though they had
spotted a large gem hanging in a window. I followed their gaze and
could not believe my eyes. It was Greer. He was standing outside
the cobbler's storefront talking to a few men. His skin looked
olive today, and the sunlight reflected off his black hair, showing
just how shiny his locks were.

All the girls were ogling at him and
whispering to one another, but he did not notice them. He glanced
at me, his soft hazel eyes catching mine. I felt my cheeks flush
and I swiftly looked away.

It took all the strength I had not to run
straight toward him, but I knew this would be a mistake.

My mother squeezed my hand as to say that she
saw him too and we kept walking. It felt so unnatural to
deliberately move in the opposite direction as Greer—every part of
my being longed to be by his side.

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

Martha, Becky and my mother sat in our
kitchen discussing what had transpired today. I had already changed
into comfortable clothing, and was fixing tea for us.

“I bet everything I own that it was the
Marthalers who accused us of witchcraft,” Martha said.

“But why? It does not make any sense,” I
replied, as I poured the tea into four cups.

“Because Becky got you home safely the other
night and Mr. Marthaler and Zachariah had other plans for you. They
are angry and this is their way of taking revenge,” said my mother,
while scooping sugar into her tea.

I looked into my cup and searched for a way
to tell them what deep down inside I knew, “It was not the
Marthalers. It was the Grey Man . . . I am sure of it,” I sighed
deeply.

The room grew silent. All eyes were upon me.
“How do you know?” Martha asked.

“Because I saw him at the Marthaler's when I
was tending to Zachariah. He was in the field behind their home
with the other hunters.”

“That was why you felt sick,” Becky
gasped.

I nodded my head. “He did not see me. I think
it was the sight of him that startled me and made me ill.”

“That makes sense. If he can get rid of all
of your support than it will be easier to come after you,” Martha
said with anguish in her voice.

“I am so sorry that I have put you all in
danger,” I said, hoping that I could keep the tears from exiting my
eyes.

“This is not your fault,” Becky replied as
she dabbed my face with a napkin, “Do not cry Aislin. We are more
than capable of fending off these people.”

“Are you? How will you fend off a whole town,
a demon, and a man with unknown powers . . . we do not even know if
he really is a man. He may be some creature too,” I said.

Martha nodded, “Aislin is right. We do not
know what we're up against. I saw the animals that were slaughtered
in the Marthaler field. I have only heard of such killings in
stories from my country. My people called such a beast the
Asanbosam. It would wait in the trees and stalk hunters. When the
hunters would pass by the creature, it would drag them up into the
tree and then drink their blood. I am not sure if the creature is
the same, but from what I have seen of its victims, it is at least
very similar.”

“What kind of wounds did the Marthaler's
animals have?” my mother asked.

“Only one wound . . . a bite at the neck and
nothing else.”

My mother covered her mouth with her hand.
She had paled considerably and she seemed to be shaking, “It is a
Dearg-dul,” she gasped.

“What is that?” I asked.

She shuddered and struggled to speak, “When I
was a child we were told the tale of Dearg-dul. I thought that
perhaps it was a story meant to keep us from running out into the
night, or maybe just a nice fireside tale, but my mother always
insisted that we must be careful. Dearg-dul is an ancient creature.
She was a beautiful woman who, like you Aislin, was forced to marry
a wretched man by the hand of her father. She had fallen in love
with a commoner and although she begged her father to allow her to
marry the boy, he refused. The peasant's status was unworthy of his
family name and he would not have it tarnished. Against Dearg-dul's
will, she was given to the man that her father had chosen. The
marriage was too much for her and her husband's cruelty was too
great. Dearg-dul killed herself as a way of escaping her spouse and
the life in which she was imprisoned, but her hatred for both her
father and husband was too strong. She was turned into a creature.
She rose from the grave the same night that they had buried her.
Some say her anger turned her into a demon, but I always believed
that she must have made a deal with a faerie. Either way, she arose
from her grave. Her beauty was preserved as though she was frozen
in time. Her skin was lily white, and cool to the touch as she
stood in her husbands bedchamber. He was once again captivated by
her beauty. She lured her husband out of bed and seduced him. When
he came close enough she kissed his neck and then bit, creating two
perfect teeth marks from her perfect new fangs. She drank all his
blood and left him to die alone. Then, she found her father and
killed him as well. She is now an immortal, doomed to spend an
eternity alone.”

My heart was pounding. The story struck me
hard. “I do not fear any creature that became such a thing to
avenge their love,” I said defiantly.

My mother and Martha exchanged a look, “Do
you not understand? That creature could be on the side of the Grey
Man,” my mother was yelling now, “Martha had a similar tale and it
was not as romantic as mine. This could be some demonic creature
and you are acting as though it may be a friend! You will endanger
us all if you do not use your head!”

I pushed the chair back in anger and ran from
the room. Never had my mother spoken to me in such tones, and never
in front of anyone. I went into my room and slammed the door behind
me.

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

Half an hour later, there was a knock on the
bedroom door. My Mother came into my room holding an envelope in
her hand.

“This came for you,” she said while handing
me the letter.

I took it from her and examined it. It was
addressed in black ink with a red wax seal closing it shut. The
initials on the seal were blurred, as though it was pressed in
haste.

“Who is it from?” I asked.

“I do not know. Someone knocked on the door
and the letter was placed on the front mat. No one was there when I
opened the door.”

I ripped open the envelope and my mother
moved in closer, in order to see what the letter contained. It was
from the governor's committee and a formal invitation to the
Governors' Ball as a guest of—Zachariah.

“But you already received an invitation,” my
mother said in a confused tone.

I crumpled the letter in my hand and dropped
it on the floor.

“Yes, but that was an invitation for me to
accompany you as a single woman. This letter was to let me know
that I can now accompany Zachariah. The Marthaler's must have told
the Governor of our engagement,” I said in disgust.

My mother shook her head, “They are
determined to take over every facet of your life.”

“I will not attend the Ball,” I said
coldly.

“But I have been working on your dress for
months, and you have already accepted the invitation,” she replied
in a hurt voice.

As angry as I was, I did love my mother and
would not do anything to hurt her.

I sighed and dropped my face into my hands,
“If it matters to you, I will go. I appreciate how hard you have
been working on my gown.”

My mother kissed my head and picked the
invitation off the floor, “I have been looking forward to seeing
you in the gown . . . I changed the color for you as a surprise.
Your new gown will match your necklace,” she smiled.

I reached up and touched the deep red stone
and my thoughts drifted to Greer. My mother left my room and went
downstairs, leaving me to become lost in dreams of my beloved.

I fell asleep at only midday and my dreams
were like none I had experienced before.

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

“Aislin, wake up,” said a soft voice. It was
a voice that I knew, a voice that I loved.