Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins (26 page)

“Were you able to eat well?” I asked.

“I had to travel far tonight. All the animals
have migrated since the winter storms have buried their food,” he
yawned, as he sat down on the bed next to me.

“Are you still hungry?” I moved closer to him
and rested my head on his knee. Looking up at him, I brushed my
fingers across his cheek and I felt that his skin was chilled from
the outside air.

He played with my hair, pulling his fingers
through the dark strands, which made his fingers look ghostly white
against the dark coloration. “I am fine. I will need to hunt again
soon, but for now I am fine.”

I knew he was not as well as he claimed. His
skin color was far too pale and his body temperature much too cold,
which meant he had not eaten enough. When he was able to feed well,
his skin turned back to a lovely olive shade—he said it was just
like his mother's skin. Now he was pale, malnourished and cold, all
signs that revealed his hunger.

Greer felt uneasy leaving me alone for long
periods of time. He was convinced that Lamont and his beast were
hunting for me nightly.

“Did you sleep at all?” he asked.

“No, I could not,” I said, as I rubbed my
eyes, “Every time I come close to falling asleep I see Rebecca and
her sisters.” My voice cracked as I spoke her name.

“Aislin, trust me, you cannot allow these
things to haunt you. You must learn to block the images from your
mind. If you dwell on them, they will consume you,” his words were
filled with concern.

“I am trying . . . it is just so hard,” I
looked away from him as Rebecca's face flooded my mind again.

Greer saw my pain and pulled me into a hug.
“While I was passing through the tavern I heard that Abigail's new
husband has come to town.”

I sat up quickly, “But he was not supposed to
be here for another week.”

“Apparently, he arrived many hours ago. He
showed up with carts full of slaves and goods. All the locals are
talking about him. They said he came with such a large convoy that
they thought royalty had arrived. This man thinks very much of
himself . . . I cannot see this marriage boding well for Abigail,”
Greer scoffed, as he shook his head.

“We have to go to her!” I hurried from the
bed to put on my coat and shoes.

“My love, we cannot. It is too dangerous to
take the path to her home and even if we could, they would never
let us in.”

“I promised that I would help her. I cannot
let her be taken by that man,” I said, as I reached for the
door.

I did not even bother to make sure my hair
was straight or my clothes were neat, I swung my cloak over me and
moved as swiftly as I could. Greer stood in front of me, blocking
my way out of the room.

“I am sorry my love, but I cannot let you
go.”

I tried to push him aside, but it was
pointless. He did not even budge as I tried to apply all the force
I could muster with my weight.

“Please, please, I beg you! She is like a
sister to me. Let me go!”

He stood like a statue, blocking the doorway
as I pounded on his chest and begged to be released.

“I promised your mother that I would protect
you, even if it was against your will. It would be folly to risk a
trip to the Marthalers . . . It is already too late Aislin. We
cannot help her. I am sure they have already been married and
bedded,” he said as gently as he could.

“No! I cannot let that happen. She did not
want to marry him. She was heart broken about Jack . . . she loves
him. We have to help them,” I said, still trying to pry him out of
my path.

Greer did not respond to me but lifted me
into his arms and carried me to the bed, where he lay against me so
that I could not move.

“It is passed midnight. We are too late.
Please stop fighting me Aislin, there is nothing we can do to help
her. Remember, she chose this life. She had used Jack, and would
have gotten both of them killed if I did not stop their affair.
This is the life she wanted.”

“She changed her mind,” I sobbed, “She is
like a sister to me. He's going to hurt her. I saw it in a vision.
She is going to be miserable, just like her mother.” Tears rolled
down my cheeks and wet my face.

He did not move an inch, but held me in my
place and rested his forehead on mine. “I know, my love. It hurts
to lose those that you care for, but you have to let her live her
life.”

“I promised her.”

“Remember your mother telling you that people
have to pick their own destinies? You cannot use magic to get her
out of this. It is her fate.”

“But she loves Jack.”

Greer cradled my face in his hands, “Not all
love is pure Aislin. She never truly loved Jack or she would have
fought for their love. She loved his attention and his youth. She
loves the old man's money more, and that is why she did nothing to
stop her marriage except to beg that you do it for her.”

His words sank in and made sense, but they
were not what I wanted to hear. I wished that Abigail could
experience love like Greer and I had, but her heart was set on
material things and perhaps she was never destined to know such
love. I thought of the bruised and haggard Abigail that was in my
vision. I could not accept that it was her destiny to be abused for
the rest of her life. I said a silent prayer that the spirits would
watch over her and help her.

I had stopped fighting Greer and he had
released his grip. I held on tightly to him so I could avert the
pain that was threatening to overtake me again, threatening to
remind me of all that has been lost—and worse still, all that I
could lose.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“But I don't want to,” I argued with Greer
and my mother while Sneachta sat on my lap.

Greer was pacing the length of the sitting
room, his eyebrows furrowed and fists clinched, while my mother
loomed over me with her hands on her hips.

Hours earlier, while I was with Greer at the
Inn, my cycle began. Greer's eyes were filled with panic, and
before I could protest, he had brought me back to my parent's home.
It was now midday and we were all arguing.

My mother threw up her arms in frustration,
“Aislin, please show some reason. Your cycle has begun and it is
not right for you to stay with Greer.”

“If I stay with Martha I will only bring
danger to her family,” I protested. My arguments met deaf ears. No
one was listening to me.

Greer waited until my mother stormed from the
room in frustration and then he led me away to my bedroom, where we
could talk in private. Although he was remaining calm, I was not. I
sat on the bed with my arms folded and looked straight ahead,
trying my best to avoid making eye contact.

“My love, I know this is difficult for you,
but it is equally painful for me,” he scooped up my hands into his
and turned my chin so I had to face him. I now saw how anxious he
appeared, and my resolve started to crack.

“Aislin, I have not eaten well in some time
now. I am growing weaker and I do not know if I could control
myself against you in my current state . . . and yours.”

“But I will be very clean . . . you will
never even know that . . . ” I went to finish my sentence but Greer
cut me off.

“Aislin, I cannot do this. You must go where
you are safe and for the time being, that is away from me.” He
sounded disgusted by his own words and looked away from me.

He stood from the bed and started to gather
my things, putting them into a pillowcase for me. I realized that,
like it or not, I was leaving. I followed suit and packed all that
I could possibly need for a week's time away from home and away
from Greer.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The Late Evening

The small brick cabin was glowing with the
fire that burned in the only hearth. I sat in a comfortable old
chair in the far corner of the room, and pretended to be interested
in embroidery, but I was in far too much pain to care. Sneachta was
lying on her back near my feet and batting at the thread that was
dangling from my hands.

The cabin was warm, clean and welcoming. This
one small room served as a kitchen, sitting room and bedroom. I was
seated in a chair that was closest to a small table where Martha
would eat, fold laundry and do much of her housekeeping. On the
other side of the room was a small bed where Martha slept, and
another chair sat in front of the fireplace.

She had the cabin to herself, which she said
was a privilege she gained through many years of loyal service to
the Smith family. Most of the slave cabins were occupied beyond the
true capacity, but slaveholders normally did not care about the
comfort of their servants.

Martha was humming to herself as she washed
rags in a cauldron that hung over the fire.

“I know how you are feeling dear. I remember
how sick I would get during my cycle. I would cry in pain for
days,” she said, as she wrung out strips of fabric and hung them to
dry.

“I am all right,” I lied.

I did not want Martha to go out of her way
for me anymore than she already had. I felt bad enough that I had
to be smuggled into her home and that I disrupted her life.

Martha smiled a crooked smile and nodded her
head, “Yes, you look very comfortable,” she laughed sarcastically.
“Aislin you need to learn that it is okay to ask your family for
help when you need it.”

She walked over to where I sat and placed her
hand on my forehead. Her hand felt cold against my skin. Then she
turned and started mixing herbs together in a mortar and pestle on
the table.

I put down my sewing and went to help Martha,
but as I stood, I felt rather dizzy and fell back into my
chair.

“I am sorry Martha. I did not mean to be
disrespectful, but I don't want to get in your way.”

Martha did not reply but smiled and patted my
knee, “You are weak from your moon cycle, and you should rest . . .
and keep pretending to work on that embroidery. I promised your
mamma that I would get you to finish it.”

I looked down at the needlework and rolled my
eyes. There was a soft knock on the door and Martha moved swiftly
to answer it. She glanced back at me and I moved from the chair and
into the shadows, just as she had instructed me to do. I was trying
to work an invisibility spell, but just to be certain that I
remained unseen, I crouched down low behind the table and piled
laundry on top of me.

I heard Martha open the door and footsteps
approaching as people moved into the cabin. My efforts at hiding
were in vain. The laundry that I was hiding under started to get
rather heavy. Someone was sitting on it—and on me. I burrowed
through until I could look out and saw two big brown eyes looking
back at me.

“Hi Miss Aislin!” A little voice said
cheerfully.

“Hello Isaac,” I stood and picked up the
small child. Isaac reached up to my head and plucked a sock from my
hair.

“Why were you playing hide and seek with
Grandma?” he asked innocently.

I laughed at his inquiry, “Because I was
bored.”

“Now he'll be expecting me to play hide and
seek every time he comes over,” Martha said while shaking her head
in amusement.

I carried Isaac over to the chair where I had
been sitting and he snuggled into my side.

“Miss Aislin, why are you here?” he asked, as
he curled my hair around his fingers.

“Aunt Aislin,” I insisted.

“Only when we're alone though,” Becky quickly
corrected.

“How are you Becky?” I asked.

Becky came over to where I sat and hugged me.
She shook her head and sighed deeply, “Not well I'm afraid,” she
looked at Isaac and then to Martha, her eyes were welling up with
tears, “Aislin, could you watch Isaac while my mother and I go for
a walk?”

“Of course.”

Becky and Martha then headed for the door,
leaving Isaac and I alone together.

“Do you want to play hide and seek again?”
Isaac asked.

I thought about it and realized that if he
left the house to hide, we could both be in danger.

“No, but would you like to play with
Sneachta?”

Sneachta, who had been sleeping, lifted her
head, squinted her eyes at me, and hissed. She did not appreciate
being used for entertainment, but I knew how to tempt her into
cooperation. I handed a long piece of thread to Isaac and showed
him how to shake it in front of her paws.

At first Sneachta acted indifferent, as she
flicked her tail and yawned lazily. Isaac looked discouraged but he
did not give up. He stuck his tongue out at her and then tried
again, this time moving the thread around in snake-like motions.
The temptation was too great and Sneachta took the bait. Isaac
squealed with glee and laughed as Sneachta leapt in the air and
swatted at the string. They went on to play like this for a long
time before the cabin door opened and a solemn Martha and Becky
both returned.

“I will take Isaac home and then I will come
back.”

She reached out for her son. He followed
obediently, but when he made it half way to the door, he broke free
of his mother's grip and ran back to me. He threw his arms around
me and hugged me tightly, “Good night Aunt Aislin.”

Then he climbed off my lap and ran back to
Becky's side. Becky and I smiled at each other and then she led
Isaac home.

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

Becky came back only minutes later. She sat
in the chair by the fire and stared at the dancing flames, as
Martha told me what they had talked about in private.

“Thank you for watching Isaac. Becky didn't
want to talk about her problems in front of him.”

“What is wrong?”

“Do you remember how Zachariah had intended
to give Becky to you as a wedding present?” Martha asked.