Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins (34 page)

Then, my dreams shifted again. I was standing
in a beautiful meadow where wild flowers were strewn across the
landscape. The sky was filled with a light that I had never
witnessed before, bright and yet soft. Above me, a crescent moon
hung low in the sky. The air was warm and a light breeze was
blowing through my hair.

“Aislin,” a sweet voice called to me.

I looked around for the source of the voice,
but no one was there. A beautiful butterfly fluttered in front of
me. Its coloration seemed to change as it moved about, and its
wings shimmered and sparkled in the soft light that surrounded it.
The creature landed on a white rose and started slowly transforming
its shape. Before my eyes, the butterfly changed its shape until
Martha stood before me.

Her image took my breath away. She was in
glistening white robes. Her hair was darker than a raven’s, and her
complexion soft and vibrant She looked young, yet I knew it was my
Martha, my grandmother.

“Walk with me,” She reached out for my
hand.

I obediently followed, and we walked through
the meadow together. It seemed that no matter how far we walked,
the scenery stayed the same.

“I need you to listen to me Aislin,” her
voice was so calm that I felt completely at peace as we strolled
together.

“You must be strong for Becky and Deirdre. I
will not be around much longer. Lamont has seen to that. They plan
to take me in a few hours time. He knows that I am the oldest and
most experienced in the Craft, and so he wants me out of the way in
order to get to you.”

The calm that surrounded us did not falter as
she continued to instruct me and, to my surprise, I listened to her
words with such clarity that they seemed to resonate in my
head.

“He plans to absorb my power from my death.
He needs this because you weakened his defenses when you broke his
amulet. The demon is still out there, but it is not as strong
without the pendant . . . you need keep your guard up because that
thing is still prowling the forests.”

“I understand,” I replied, as we strolled
through the wildflowers.

“I do not want you to blame Greer,” she said
tentatively.

“What?” I was confused by the turn of our
conversation.

“Greer has been greatly weakened by the
injury that Zachariah inflicted. He has been visiting me whenever
he can. He brought me food and has kept me warm, but he does not
yet have the strength he would need to fight Lamont and the many
townsmen who will be standing guard during my execution.”

I looked at her beautiful face and saw no
sign of fear in her expression.

“I have asked too much of him, but I see no
other way. You must understand that I have asked him for this, and
he protested greatly to my reasoning . . . but it is what I
want.”

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

I awoke from my dream with a jolt. I threw
back the covers and raced from the house. I sprinted down the
street to where Martha was held in the pillory. I skidded a few
times as my slippers shot off my feet, but I did not stop
running.

There, in the pillory, was Martha.

I saw two guards sitting on the short wall
near her, and I hid behind a giant oak tree as I waited for them to
move. After a few moments, I realized that both men were asleep,
and I held my breath as I tiptoed passed them, making my way toward
Martha.

Her head was slumped forward and her skin was
blue from the cold.

“Martha?” I whispered, as I approached
her.

She did not respond, so I moved in closer and
gently touched her forehead. She did not move. With great
hesitation, I touched her bound hand and felt for signs of life.
She was not breathing.

I felt shaky, and the cold air whipped around
me, as my tears started to freeze to my face. I went behind where
her head and hands were bound, and looked at the base of her neck,
there I found two puncture wounds that were incrusted with dried
blood—Greer had taken her.

I turned unsteadily and in a blurred state
made my way back to my home. I was freezing and folded my arms as I
walked back, fighting against the wind the whole time. My grief had
weakened me and my mind started recounting my visit from Martha.
Something was tugging at my memory and a feeling of a looming
threat seemed to be closing in on me.

I heard the snow behind me crunch under the
weight of soft footsteps. I was too afraid to turn around. I had
not brought any protection with me. I was completely exposed.

I walked faster. Struggling against the wind
that blew right through my nightgown, chilling me to the bone. The
footsteps behind me sped up. A constant fog loomed in front of me
as my breath caught in the frigid air.

I quickened my pace to put distance between
my pursuer and myself. There was only one street to go before I
would be home. I plunged my body forward and began to sprint. My
heart was pounding so hard that I could no longer hear the
footsteps behind me, so I glanced back briefly.

I could not see far behind me as the snow
swirled, veiling my view, so I picked up my pace. I rounded the
corner to my street, my ribs throbbing from my forced breath. I
went to clutch my side and tripped, my slipper flew off my foot and
I skidded along a patch of ice. My injured hand instinctually
reached for the ground to brace the fall, and I tore the skin open
again. I scrambled to get to my feet and find my slipper. I wanted
desperately to reach my house, but I was stopped.

“Aislin!” I heard a male voice yell as his
footsteps grew nearer to me.

I could not make out the voice as the wind
thundered in my ears. Terror consumed me as I waited for Lamont to
attack. I crawled on the ice, trying desperately to get to my feet.
He was running toward me and closing in fast. I knew that if I
screamed, I would only endanger whoever tried to come to my rescue,
so I held my breath and shut my eyes, pleading a small prayer for
help as I awaited my fate.

I heard his footsteps as he finally reached
me, and I tentatively looked up. To my relief, I saw Jack leaning
over me, holding his hands out to pull me to my feet.

“What are you doing out so late?” he asked in
astonishment.

“I, I, I . . . ” My mind struggled to come up
with a plausible excuse to why I would be visiting Martha, or why I
would be so stupid as to walk out in my nightgown in the middle a
snowstorm.

“Were you sleepwalking?” he asked, as he took
off his jacket and placed it on my shoulders.

“Yes . . . I must have been.”

“Why did you run from me?” he held onto my
arm and guided me back to my home.

“I was frightened Jack. I thought you were
the Puca.”

“The what?” he raised an eyebrow at my
strange language.

“Oh . . . the beast. I thought it was the
beast that was behind me.”

“Be sure that you do not wander at night
anymore. There have been more animals found dead in the woods. It
is not safe. I have been on guard for the past hour and more men
are in the woods, but that does not mean that they would not shoot
you accidently. Everyone is on edge since the witch was found out.
We are sure she is going to call on her demons for revenge.”

We reached the gate and I passed him as I
moved to the front door.

“Thank you for escorting me home,” I
said.

I handed him back his coat and shut the door
behind me.

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

My feet and legs felt numb from the cold, and
I struggled to climb the stairs and make my way back into my room
without waking the household.

I knew that I would have to stay up and wait
for my mother to wake. I could not let her find out about Martha
from anyone else. I just hoped that Martha made her way to Becky in
spirit as well.

Once I had entered my room, I carefully shut
the door behind me so that it did not make a sound against the
doorframe.

I felt numb, in both body and spirit. I knew
Martha's death would eventually bring me to my knees in grief. Yet
at this moment, I was unable to feel anything. I slipped on the
wooden floor, but was able to steady myself before I woke up the
whole house. I looked down and saw that my nightgown was drenched
at the hem from the melted snow, and my slippers were saturated as
well. I moved to my dresser to get a change of clothing when he
spoke.

“Aislin . . .” his voice was weak, as though
he had been crying.

“Greer!” I gasped.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his
elbows resting on his knees and his head hung low. I watched as he
wiped his eyes with the heel of his hands. He never looked up at
me.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered.

I went to where he sat and forced my way into
his arms, “Martha came to me. She told me everything.” I held him
and buried my face in his neck. He pulled me close to him.

“I never wanted take her life. She begged me
to save her from being humiliated in front of the whole town. She
told me that it was her worst nightmare to have Becky and you watch
her die,” he wept.

The sound of his sorrow ripped away the
numbness that had blocked my grief. Now, a staggering angst stabbed
at my heart, and I was overcome with sadness.

“Martha told me that this was what she wanted
. . . ” I heard the finality of my words. The past tense in which I
spoke of my beloved Martha and it bereaved me. “You saved her from
a horrible end Greer.” My words came out in a hoarse whisper as I
spoke through my tears.

Up until now, the sight of Greer had made me
forget the state of my body. I was still wet and cold. My feet were
numb and my hand torn from my fall. I moved into the bed and pulled
the quilt over my legs. As I gripped the blanket, I grimaced from
the pain that was emanating from my hand. I leaned over to my
bedside table and held my palm to the candlelight. As the light
cast onto my injury, I heard Greer wince.

“Let me wrap that for you,” he said.

He went to the dresser where my mother had
placed clean wrappings and salves. I watched as he held my hand
gently in his and cleaned my wound. He did not even waver as my
blood touched his skin.

“Do you feel as though you have gained some
of your strength back?” I hesitantly asked.

Greer pulled up his shirt for me to see. The
scabs were almost completely gone.

“I needed human blood to speed up the healing
process . . .” he looked away from me again, as though he could not
face me when he spoke of her. “Martha seemed to know that.” He
pressed the salve into my skin and then gently started wrapping the
clean cloth over the wound as he spoke, “She said she wanted me to
benefit from her death. So she would not die in vain,” he stared at
my hand, keeping his gaze away from my eyes, “I shouldn't stay with
you, but I felt that I needed to explain myself. I was afraid that
you would think I took her life against her will… and that you
would hate me for it.”

I lifted his chin with my free hand and
searched his face. His eyes were bloodshot from his sorrow and I
brushed the tears away with my kisses.

“Greer, I love you. I understand what Martha
wanted and why you agreed to do it. But please, please, do not stay
away from me anymore. I cannot bear it. Every time my thoughts
drift to you, I feel my soul threaten to leave my body in search of
you. I know I will eventually end up in spirit again, like I did
the day at the tavern, if I cannot be with you,” I said through
trembling breaths.

“I know, my love. I will stay as long as I
can, but you understand that I cannot come out in public. They will
be searching relentlessly for me now. Lamont will want revenge for
having his prey taken from him.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We are going to use his magic against him,”
he said as he clung to me, “Martha gained more knowledge about him
in the short time she was imprisoned, than I have in my lifetime.
She gave me advice before I . . .” he took a shuttering breath and
paused for a moment. “She told me that she gave you all the
information you needed and it would reveal itself to you when the
time was right.”

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

Greer woke me when he heard movement from my
parent's chamber and I went right away to meet my mother. My father
had already left for work and she was still in bed. It was odd to
find her sleeping, as she was always the first one up, but when I
moved in closer, I realized that she was awake.

She was lying on her side with her knees
tucked into her chest, paralyzed with grief, as tears silently
streamed down her face and wet her pillow. She already knew.

I sat on the bed beside her and stroked her
long auburn hair, “I am sorry,” I said softly.

“She came to me last night and said
goodbye.”

“She came to me as well,” I replied, “Martha
told me that she wanted this . . .”

“I know,” she cut me off, “She explained it
to me as well. Still…it does not take the pain away. She should not
have had to endure such torment. She should not have died in such a
way!” Her pain filled the room, as her words seemed to linger in
the air. She began to sob once more.

I handed her my kerchief and went to pour her
a glass of water from the pitcher that sat on her nightstand.

“Greer is with us,” I said with hesitation.
“Please be kind to him. He is distraught about what he had to
do.”

My mother did not react as I had expected. In
fact, she did not react at all. I placed the glass in her hand and
tried to help her sit up to drink, but she was so overcome with
sorrow that she sank like a sand bag,
and the
water tipped out of the glass and onto the floor.

“She needs time Aislin. We should let her
rest for a while,” Greer said from where he stood leaning in the
doorway.