The Obsidian Dagger (9 page)

“Are you threatening a war against the humans?” the Sidhe asked aghast. “The suggestion goes against our way.”

“It goes against your way, perhaps, but not mine.” Conchar narrowed his gaze before he spoke again. “Hear this now, the humans will not be allowed to be the ruination of this Earth, this land, or the spellbinders. You and your clans are either with me or against me. And know that when you are my enemy my mind drifts to murder.”

To the Leprechaun's credit he stood up and defended his stance. “Then you have made an enemy of one of your closest friends, Conchar. The Leprechauns will stand between you and the humans.”

“As will the Sidhes,” spoke the small fairy.

Conchar sneered and looked over to the Merrow for her decision.

“Humans will ruin this world and my seas. We stand with the spellbinders,” declared the Merrow.

Kleig slammed his gavel down again. “I wish there was some other way and I encourage you to find it before this war costs us too much.”

“Quiet, spirit! The time for talk has ended,” Conchar said turning to exit the room. “The next time we meet blood will flow.”

The room faded away and Brendan was left alone in the darkness with the ghost. He knew he should be terrified, but somehow he knew that the ghost wasn't there to harm him. The hollow companion hovered nearby in silence. Brendan waited, but his peace of mind was growing weary.

“Who are you?” he finally asked the spirit.

The spirit remained impassive and still.

“Are you the Ghost of Christmas Past?”

The spirit smiled and raised an eyebrow. “You could say that.” The spirit moved its hand and the places Brendan had been floated past like pages being flipped in a photo album. “What you have seen are events from long ago and now you can do with them as you please.”

“Whoa! Wait a minute.” Brendan “T-ed” his hands to call time out. “You show me this stuff and then you bail on me? Why did you waste my time?”

“Time? What time have I taken from you?” asked the ghost patiently.

“I don't know. Am I dreaming? Did I eat some bad granola? I don't know what's happening.”

“Brendan O'Neal, you have been privy to events not seen for centuries for reasons that I know not. Knowledge is never a waste of time.” The spirit floated and considered the human. “You have been chosen by powers that are beyond me.”

“But…” began Brendan, but then he stopped. His argument was going to go unheard since the spirit had vanished. As a matter of fact, everything had faded and Brendan found himself leaning his head against the window of the beat up old rental. A string of drool fell onto his shirt when he finally awoke.

 

 

Chapter 9

Dullahan

The occupants of the backseat of the car were sleeping peacefully. Lizzie was stretched out and snoozing like it was her comfy mattress from NYC and Rory and Biddy were laid out in the rear window shelf. The front seat was having more trouble resting. Brendan's thoughts lingered on the visions of the past, and that made it hard to relax. He had just had some sort of strange encounter with a spirit, and although he had already seen some freaky stuff, the thought of a ghost still scared him. He also noticed that Dorian was having a tough time sleeping, too. She jostled back and forth in her seat finding no comfort. The view through the tears in the roof weren't that calming, so he took to looking at her instead.

Brendan thought she looked beautiful but troubled. It wasn't her fault that she was a little stressed. Her father being abducted by a griffin was not your average everyday teen issue, after all. When her eyes opened and she looked over at him, he had an urge to tell her about his dream, but thought better of it. What would it matter anyway?

Dorian stretched and squinted to see out of the windshield frame since the glass had been shattered and disposed of after they came to a stop. Brendan took the opportunity to start a conversation. “So, how is it that your father is a Leprechaun and you're not?”

“I am a Leprechaun, Brendan.” She yawned and arched her back to stretch out again. “I just choose to be your size sometimes.”

Now Brendan knew he was a novice to all of this magic stuff and he was growing more and more curious about it. “But how?” He read Dorian's face and got it. “Oh, magic, of course. How long have Leprechauns been around?”

“Our people have been here for thousands of years.”

“Wait, you're a thousand years old?” Brendan's eyes were wide and he was a little freaked by the thought of having a crush on a really old lady.

“No, I'm seventeen, Brendan.” She chuckled a little. “We live and die just like you.”

“If you're like me, then where does the magic come from?”

“The legend says that a great shadow fell over the world and started an evil and depressing era. After a bunch of suffering and when all hope seemed lost, a brilliant rainbow burst through the dark sky and touched the Earth. The light will always hold the darkness away, and in this case it helped to destroy it. From that day on, the rainbow has given us magic and power, and I guess a sense of protection.” Dorian glanced over at Brendan to read his face. He was interested and never once smirked or acted like he didn't believe her. She also noticed his eyes. They were deep and hard to pull away from, but somehow she managed to do so.

“Looks like Morna is trying to bring the dark and scary times back with her griffin and ugly fairies.”

“Pretty much,” she replied. Dorian shifted her position and leaned her head on her seat's headrest. She found herself staring deeply into Brendan's eyes, and she was hating herself for it. Everything about the moment was tipping towards romantic. The stars were bright, fireflies were glowing, and a song she loved came on the radio.

“I never thanked you for coming along,” she said.

They began leaning towards one another, perhaps caught up in the moment, or perhaps fate was beginning to intervene.

“Um, I'm just glad I could help,” Brendan replied awkwardly.

They leaned in closer and closer coming within inches of the other's lips. The moment was just about to happen when Brendan's cell phone rang, lighting up like a police car in Paris. Brendan fumbled with it getting the smart phone out of his pocket. He smiled oafishly having had the near blissfulness of a first kiss with Dorian, the most intriguing person he had ever met in his young life, pass by with nothing more than a longing hanging between them.

Lizzie sat bolt-upright in the back seat, groggy and disheveled, and asked, “Whoza? Whatza?”

Brendan turned back to her. “It's just my phone.” Seeing that it was his father calling, he answered with the push of a button.

Oscar, who was lying on a lumpy mattress in a slummy hotel smiled at the sound of his son's voice. “Brendan. How are you and Liz?”

A fly walked across his nineteen-inch tube television and nearly got stuck on a large smudge of something that was smeared across the center of the picture.

Brendan glanced back at his sleepy sister and shrugged. “Uh, we're a bit tired. Where are you, Dad?”

Oscar coughed and hacked for a few seconds. “Sorry, it's really smoky in all the buildings I've been in today. I'm in Gilshery.” More coughs. “Sorry. I've got this little hotel room––well it's more of a room above a stable–– but its home tonight. Listen, Brendan, I hate leaving you guys alone like this, but I feel like I'm on the verge of a discovery. I'm probably going to be gone a day or two longer than I thought. You kids haven't run out of money yet, have you?”

Brendan sighed in relief. “No, we're fine. Don't worry about us.” He was trying to ease his father's mind about feeling guilty. He was also trying to convince him that he and Lizzie were perfectly safe. “Listen, Dad, I better get going. Call me tomorrow, will you?”

“Yeah, okay, Son. I'm really beat, too,” Oscar replied. “Love you guys.”

Brendan glanced over at Dorian and buckled under the possible embarrassment of telling his father that he loved him. “Us too, Dad. Talk to you tomorrow.”

Brendan ended the call and checked the back seat. Lizzie, Rory, and Biddy were sleeping soundly. Their breathing was steady and low and they appeared to be resting quite nicely.

Turning back to Dorian he said, “Now, where were we?”

She was turned away from him, apparently not wanting to listen in on his conversation, but when she replied with only the smallest of snores, he added, “Um, never mind.”

…

Miles away, the ominous pounding of a big and powerful black steed sped towards the sleepy five. The horse's hooves tore divots the size of dinner plates in the dirt road. Its rider was more fearsome than the beast and any animal with half a survival instinct stayed clear. Death would have surely been their fate.

Brendan had finally dozed off and was in the midst of a REM cycle when a shriek from the back seat made him jump. He dismissed it as being a figment of his imagination and turned over towards the window. It wasn't until he felt a small tug on his ear that he fully awakened.

“Brendan, wake up!” shouted Rory.

Brendan turned his head and flung Rory into the driver-side window. The groaning that followed allowed Brendan to spot the ear-tugger.

“What are you doing up, Rory?” asked Brendan.

Rory collected his wits. “We need to get out of here.”

Brendan yawned heartily. “We will. Just as soon as first light comes up.”

“No!” shouted Rory. “We need to go now!”

Dorian was now stirring. “What's going on, Rory?”

“Something's coming, and it will be here soon,” warned Rory.

“What? What's coming?” Dorian was at attention now and stared at the small man.

“Dullahan!” Rory exclaimed, fear rippling through his tiny voice.

Dorian's face echoed Rory's stress and she fell to a pale white.

In the distance, a horse whinnied as if it was Cerberus, the three-headed dog guardian of the Underworld. It was the most terrifying sound that a person could hear, as far as Dorian was concerned. Looking on the hummock ahead, she saw the disturbing silhouette of the ravenous killer, Dullahan.

“You have got to go now!” she shouted in a panic.

Brendan grabbed the key in the ignition and tried to turn the engine over. It sputtered and grinded but it wouldn't start.

“Start, you stupid thing!” he urged.

Dullahan reared his horse back on its hind legs and charged forward. The black stallion covered large chunks of ground with each gallop and everyone in the car could see that the maniac was closing in on them in a hurry.

“Come on! Come on!” shouted Brendan.

Lizzie was up and watching in horror as the dark rider sped toward them. “Who is that guy, anyway?”

“Dullahan,” stated Dorian with respect and fear in her tone. “A headless rider that brings death everyplace he goes.”

“What's his problem with us?” Lizzie demanded to know, not worrying about the fact that Dorian had mentioned something about a headless rider.

Dorian studied Brendan's technique in starting the car and silently pleaded for the old metal box to respond. “He's one of Morna's minions.”

“And he's getting closer by the second, so get this thing going!” added Rory, pointing out of the windshield.

Dullahan surged forward and unsheathed his blade from his back. The metal glinted in the moonlight and sent chills down the spines of the five in the car. The black horse exhaled huge amounts of steam from its large nostrils and its eyes shone red, like fire from the depths of Hades.

Brendan tried not to focus on his sheer fear and tried the ignition once more. Finally, it turned over.

“Yes!” he exclaimed in triumph as he popped it into gear.

Dullahan was now twenty yards away and the blade had been cocked back, ready to deliver a deathblow. Brendan slammed on the gas and the car lurched forward. He cut the wheel hard right and just escaped the horseman's mighty swipe. Brendan was guiding his beat-up Euro car down the road by the time Dullahan had changed course and took to his pursuit once more.

…

How long had Duncan been Morna's prisoner? The Leprechaun King had to wonder as the seconds crept by and though time was moving slowly, it was hard to keep track of it. The room was dark and musty, like a dungeon would be, with mold and mildew rotting the air.

Duncan leaned against his cage bars and noticed the sweat begin to bead on his forehead. He was both cold and hot at the same time as fever was just beginning to crawl into his body systems. He imagined that he was growing paler by the second, but without a mirror there was no way to confirm it with his eyes. He absently looked over at Wardicon who shook and trembled and resembled a minion from a dark underworld. Was that Duncan's fate? Was that the fate of the Leprechauns?

He heard the clicking of footfalls in the hall beyond the large wood door. Morna entered the room and a bright light nearly blinded Duncan. It took several moments for his eyes to adjust. Once they did, Morna was standing just beyond his cage and one of her goons stood guard at the door.

“Oh, poor, poor, Duncan,” began the witch. “You don't look so well.” Her grin spoke of her cruelty.

“What have you done to me?” demanded Duncan through a fit of coughs.

Morna laughed the sinister laugh of evil. “You're becoming mine, Duncan, and once I have complete control of you, all of your little, pathetic Leprechauns will be mine as well.” She laughed again and studied her prisoner. “But that's not why I'm here. I just wanted to let you know that your daughter did a fine job fending off my Sidhes.”

Duncan looked up hopefully at the witch. He began to tremble slightly with his transformation well underway.

“Honestly, she did do a great job, so that's why I sent Dullahan to say hello.”

The Leprechaun King's bloodshot eyes opened in recognition. His head shook numbly in denial.

“Don't worry, Duncan, by this time tomorrow you won't even care if she lived or died.”

Morna turned on her heels and strode out of the dungeon. Her deranged cackles echoed through the halls for several agonizing minutes. Duncan hung his head as a single tear rolled down his cheek and through his beard. He couldn't help but feel that all hope was lost.

…

Dullahan had caught up to the straining car. He slashed at the back end with his heavy blade and tore through the back bumper causing it to rip away in shreds. Lizzie, Rory, and Biddy moved up as far as possible, clinging to the backs of the front seats.

“Can't this hunk of junk go any faster?” screamed Lizzie.

“I'm trying!” Brendan checked the rearview mirror and finally got a good look at Dullahan. The headless part was dead-on accurate. This guy had nothing where his head and neck should have been. He wore dark clothing and had a flowing cape that looked alive. The horse was almost as frightening simply because of its size. Although, the fiery red eyes didn‘t make Brendan want to ask for a ride.

“Blast him, Dorian!”

Dorian shook her head. “I'm not that powerful, Brendan! This is an evil being from its creation, and the Sidhe's weren't.”

“Well, thanks for the history lesson,” Brendan replied in frustration.

The side of the road was alive, if one can use that word to describe what lay in wait in the brush, with a pair of pearl-white eyes of smoke. They narrowed as they watched the car rush by with the fool demon, Dullahan, in hot pursuit. The order was given to stay away, to stay out of these affairs, but to stand by the wayside seemed unnatural. It would be a crime not to get involved.