Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins (8 page)

I walked quietly to the door to press my ear
against it, listening as best I could without having to be in the
presence of them. I could not bear for the Marthalers to see the
damage that had been done to my face or to see my bloodshot eyes.
They would think that they had broken me and they had not.

I pressed my ear as hard as I could onto the
wooden door, but the sound I heard did not come from there. A
little
ping
had come from my window. I slowly walked over to
it, with my bell clutched tightly in my hand.

It had grown darker, and my vision to the
outside world was blocked by own my reflection in the window, which
glowed eerily in the light of the candle. I placed the candle down
on my dresser and cupped my hands around my eyes so I could see
into the night. I looked down and saw Greer. At least I thought I
saw Greer, but when I blinked, he was gone.

My attention was drawn downward and landed
on the windowsill. I struggled to get the window open and felt a
rush of cold air flood into the room. I could only get the window
open far enough to stick my fingers out and I grappled clumsily
with my cold hands, feeling for anything that might have been
placed on the ledge.

Finally, I felt something that did not
belong and scraped at it until I could reel it passed the narrow
opening. It was a small white envelope. There was no name upon it.
My heart leapt as I ripped it open, knowing it was from Greer.

I walked over to the candle and read it
quickly, as I could hear someone coming up the stairs.

My Beloved Aislin,

I truly am sorry that I did not stay with
you tonight and introduce myself to your family. At this time, I
cannot risk exposure. Such an act would jeopardize all that I have
worked for, and render all my years of hunting this murderer to be
in vain.

I did not intend on meeting you. I came to
this country for a specific purpose. I did not mean to fall in love
with you, yet I have. Now you are hunted by the very thing that I
am tracking, and my course has been altered by a greater fate. I
must protect you at all costs. I cannot lose you. I will not lose
you.

I am with you. I am devoted to no other but
you. Please understand why we cannot be together at this time.

Forever yours,

Greer

As I heard the door open, I slipped the
letter into my dresser drawer. My mother was standing in the
doorway looking worn and solemn.

“They would like you to come downstairs,”
she said.

I looked in the mirror. My dark hair was
wild and even in the dimness of the candlelight, my fair skin could
not hide the dark purple bruise that was developing across my right
cheek. My father had not seen this yet, and I wondered if my
condition would be enough evidence of the Marthaler’s cruelty to
change his mind on our engagement.

As I walked down the stairs to confront
these horrible men, I did not feel scared. I thought of Greer and
knew in my heart that he would never let this union between
Zachariah and I happen. So I could act as I pleased. This was just
a game.

When I reached the doorway to the sitting
room, I saw Mr. Marthaler and Zachariah sitting on two chairs. My
father sat across from them, and my mother was serving tea and
cakes, acting as a good servant should.

“Have you sold me yet?” I said in a cold and
emotionless voice.

My father looked shocked by my words. He
knew exactly what I meant and I hurt him deeply.

Zachariah stood and came toward me, reaching
out to take my hand, “We have reached an agreement,” he smiled at
me as though I would delight in his proclamation. I yanked my hand
away and pushed passed him.

I stood in front of my father, blocking his
view from Mr. Marthaler, whom I ignored. “What did you get for me?
More than you paid for mother I hope.”

I saw a look of disbelief and betrayal
settle on his face; now we were even.

“Did I betray you father? Tell me, how does
it feel?” I snapped.

Mr. Marthaler stood up again. He was coming
toward me, ready to stifle my complaints with his hand once more. I
turned and faced him.

“You will learn to behave like a lady and
treat men with respect,” he growled at me. I laughed in his
face.

“Respect is earned and I shall give you
none.”

“Aislin, leave the room,” my father said
through a shaking voice.

“I will not!”

I looked at Zachariah who was frozen in the
corner. He looked like a child who just realized that the horse
that was given to him as a birthday present turned out to be a
wild, bucking, stallion.

“Zachariah, you may attempt to force this
marriage upon me but mark my words, I will make life impossible for
you if you do.”

The boy did not move but looked to his
father to handle his problem, for his father handled all of the
Zachariah’s problems.

“You will bite your tongue shrew!” His
father bellowed.

As Mr. Marthaler lunged in my direction, I
ducked, leaving my father in the path of the oncoming blow. I heard
the contact of the punch land upon my father and looked at the
mortified expression on Mr. Marthaler’s face. I laughed to myself
as I turned and ran from the room, back up the stairs and into my
bedroom, slamming the door tightly behind me. I then quickly pushed
the heavy dresser in front of the door in case I was being
pursued.

I reached under my pillow and pulled out the
book, which I had been keeping close to me. I flipped the pages
until I came to a memory spell and I cast it in haste. The
Marthalers would never remember hearing that my mother had been a
slave. I would keep her secret safe. Although I confounded the
minds of Zachariah and his father, I left the mind of my father
untouched. I wanted him to remember what it felt like to be
betrayed by someone you love.

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

I heard the Marthalers’ leave. Mr. Marthaler
was apologizing profusely to my father and after a few moments of
awkward silence, the front door was shut and locked.

My mother knocked on my bedroom door and I
quickly pushed the dresser back so she could enter.

“May I sit with you for a while?” she
asked.

She walked into my room and I closed the
door behind her. What I was about to say was something my father
could not hear.

“I cast a memory spell so the Marthalers
will not remember that I said anything about you being a slave… I
am so sorry about what I said. I never meant to say anything about
you. It just came out with my anger.” I felt horrible for what I
had done. Even though the spell would erase my comments from their
minds, it could not change the fact that I had spoken of forbidden
things that haunted my mother.

“I knew you would not let those thoughts
remain in their minds,” she smiled at me half-heartedly, “But using
your magic to conceal thoughtless mistakes is too risky in times
such as these.”

I nodded in understanding. “What happened
after I left?”

My mother shook her head and clasped her
hands tightly until her knuckles were turning white. “It did no
good. They have kept to their agreement, although your father seems
more concerned after witnessing their violent nature. He did not
know that you were struck before. They never told him that part. So
the whole outburst came as a great surprise.”

I felt a cold chill run through my body.
“What shall I do?”

“Tomorrow is Samhain. We will pray… ask the
spirits of our ancestors for assistance and see what comes.” She
got up, hugged me, and left the room.

I watched her close the door behind her. I
went to my dresser and retrieved Greer’s letter. This time I read
the letter slowly, somehow feeling as though he was standing right
next to me and would stay next to me if only I could keep
reading.

After I had finished reading, I took the
letter and placed it in the back of the book, pressing it close to
the binding.

I sat thinking about Greer and wondered if
he thought of me as often as I thought of him. I felt content as my
mind played back the moments we spent together, although I had so
much to learn about him.
Who was he? What did he like and
dislike?
Yet, I felt as though in some way, my heart already
knew the answers to these questions. Although, certain things I did
not yet understand.
For instance, he was so strong. When he
picked me up by the stream, it was as though I weighed nothing at
all. Perhaps some men are just stronger then others, but he also
moved with a swiftness I had never seen before. Then there was his
ability to enter my dreams. How could he do that?

A
knock
on my door shattered my
thoughts
.
My father did not wait for me to reply and opened
the door. I pushed the book far under my pillow and sat back so
that it was completely covered.

“Aislin we must talk,” he sounded timid and
broken. His face was swollen and his eye blackened.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

He ignored my indignance and walked to the
edge of my bed, sitting uncomfortably on the very end of it. He
held onto one of the posts as though to steady himself.

As I surveyed him from where I sat, I
realized that he looked rather old and worn. His greying hair was
loosening out of its ponytail, the lines around his eyes seemed
deeper and his coloration seemed rather pale.

“We have much to talk about. I am sorry that
I did not consult you in this marriage arrangement, but it happened
very quickly and it took me off guard. In my eyes, you are still a
small child, but in the world’s eyes,
you are
nearly twenty years old and more than ready to become a
wife
. When Zachariah and his father walked into my shop,
they assured me that you were deeply in love with him and that this
was a proposal that would ensure you a place in society. They told
me that you were consorting with slaves and that your behavior was
the talk of the town. I felt I had no choice.”

“I will not marry him,” I said sternly.

The words made my father twitch. “Aislin, I
am aggrieved by what has transpired and what was done to you at the
slave quarters. Your mother informed me only minutes ago.”

“Then you will not force this upon me?” I
asked.

“I have no choice,” he murmured, “We reached
a gentleman’s agreement and I cannot go back on my word.”

“Please leave.” I pointed to the door and
stared out the window, refusing to look at him.

“Aislin, please forgive me… I tried to
rescind but we could not come to terms.”

“When is it to be?” I asked.

“After the New Year. I need time to comprise
your dowry.”

“Please leave me.”

He shut the door behind him, leaving me to
contend with my fear.
Was it not bad enough that I was being
hunted by an unknown creature? Must I endure this as well?

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

The night dragged on and though I tried to
sleep, I could find no solace. I lay on my back staring up at the
canopy of my bed. My mind would not stop racing, torturing me with
thoughts of being married to Zachariah, to having a swollen belly
from pregnancy and being at the mercy of the Marthaler sensibility.
I must find a way out of this. I would rather run straight into
the monster’s trap then spend a moment with the title of Mrs.
Marthaler.

I slid the book out from under my pillow and
read Greer’s letter again.
Did he know about the plot to marry
me off? Did he see the meeting tonight?
A thought flickered in
my mind and I immediately reached for paper and quill and started
writing, telling Greer all I could remember that may be of
importance.

My Beloved Greer,

Tonight Mr. Marthaler and Zachariah came to
our home. My father has come to an agreement and I am meant to
marry Zachariah at the beginning of the New Year. I have pleaded
with my father, but to no avail. I told Zachariah that I did not
love him, but he was not deterred. His father tried to hit me again
tonight, but I got away before he landed the blow. My father was in
the way and was struck instead. I have no sympathy for my cowardly
father and I loathe him for encouraging me to be independent only
to turn and condemn me to a life of imprisonment. My thoughts keep
settling on you and on us. Will we ever be together?

I love you Greer and I want no other.

Aislin

I took the letter and placed it on the
windowsill in the same place where Greer had left his letter for
me.

CHAPTER NINE

Samhain

My mother busied herself making the
beginnings of our holiday dinner. The smell of burning sage filled
the air as she used it to cleanse our home and a large fire
crackled in the hearth. We could not have a bon fire as our
ancestors did for fear that we would be caught practicing magic. My
mother simply stuffed the fireplace full of wood and let it burn
wildly.

She gave me special tea to drink that would
help me with my visions. It was not traditional Celtic tea, as we
had no means of obtaining such things in the New World. Instead, it
was tea from the native Lenape people, who also used it for their
vision quests
, as they called it. The brew was strong and
full of powerful magic. I sipped it slowly, as I waited for the
images to come to me.

I was sitting in my room staring into my
basin that was filled to the brim with water. Candles were lit on
either side of it and although it was still light out, I could see
the reflection of the flames dancing on the surface of the
water.

I kept glancing back to my windowsill. The
letter I had written the night before was gone from where I had
placed it. Greer must have gotten it, yet there was no reply left
in its place. I wondered if I was too distracted for scrying, and
if the exercise would be rendered useless.