

Eire of Mystery

(Version 1.1)

Book two of the Eire series

By Gavin Green

Copyright 2013 (2016) Gavin Green

Smashwords Edition

Also by the author:

Eire of Intrigue (book one of the Eire series)

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events are purely fictional. Any resemblance to real people or situations is purely coincidental, and in some cases, wishful thinking.

Dedication

First, to Connie, Stacey, and Sue; although listed alphabetically, you're all equally sound dames in my book.

Secondly, to my dog, Koda; I never would have finished this without your continuing desire to sleep.

Chapter 1

Past

Suntanned feet luxuriated in the cool, clear brook, originating from spring run-off of the surrounding peaks. Saraid - sometimes known as the Moon Maiden, or Saraid of the Moon Glade - sat on a low, flat stone in relaxed pose, her diaphanous gown softly fluttering in the shaded midday breeze. Long hair down to her hips, in shades from white to hunter green, lifted with the lazy air currents that the small mountain valley provided.

Saraid sat in the heart of a grove of white birches, just one of many such places she'd laid claim to as a haven. She was a dryad, and an elder of the fae. Unlike with mortals, those with greater age from the lands of Lore only grew in power and ability, and some physical aspects were a matter of choice. Saraid's appearance in the Verden - the lands of mortals - was hardly altered; a maiden of shapely young maturity and unearthly beauty, and she had used those captivating tools on many occasions.

Usually given to enjoying simple pleasures and beauty in natural forms, Saraid was also vindictive to those mortals who would threaten her havens or damage nature for petty means. She was also known to be haughty to humans and some fae alike, wielding her potent gifts to make a point or get her way when reasoned that opposition would yield.

With her wisdom, abilities, and certain attitudes, Saraid had been offered and accepted one of the Nine Seats indefinitely. The Seats formed the Circle of Prudence, the governing body that upheld and enforced the few laws that most fae found necessary. That prestigious responsibility did not overly intrude upon Saraid's time, so she had ample opportunities to concern herself with other matters.

The particular haven of white birches that Saraid relaxed in was in the new Americas, in the eastern Rocky Mountain range. A burgeoning township was not far off, sitting on the edge of the foothills, and it was mostly from there that many human defilers of nature still ventured from. It was the Verden year of 1881, and Saraid could finally relax after years of deflecting infiltrators clawing at the earth in search of gold and silver. A few still came and went, but the madness of the Pike's Peak onslaught had been over for over a decade.

She was able to turn many away during that harsh time, fogging minds against discoveries or hiding entire mineral veins. Saraid also used physical wiles to lure miners away from their destructive fervor; some of them led to madness, and a few others brought back to the Lore as pets and servants. Overall, she decided, it could have been much worse without her intervention.

Saraid was watching two dragonflies swirl in an aerial dance when she heard a lone human approach. Unmoving from her position, yet hidden from his mundane sight, Saraid inspected the man as he came into her haven. He knelt to fill a water skin from the small stream as dappled sunlight played over him. Long and lean, weathered face and hair like fine straw, the man cut a fairly handsome figure, if a bit rugged and roughly hewn. He carried none of the trappings of a digger, nor of a trapper, yet still wore iron in the forms of a rifle, a pistol, and a knife.

Saraid felt the dangerous presence of that blade immediately; hand-wrought iron weapons were potentially lethal to any foolish or unlucky in-realm fae. Still, she knew that he could be pleasantly coerced to set his weapons aside. Furthermore, Saraid felt like having a pleasurable diversion, and the man looked capable enough.

It was all too easy to intoxicate the man with amorous desires and pangs of unrealized hopes. He must have been a lonely sort to have been so easily clouded. After planting a suggestion that he discard his gear and weapons, Saraid joined him in-realm, pressing her curvaceous figure against the tall, soul-starved man. They danced and spun as she led him through the white birches, where a fae bridge connected the haven to her home in the Lore.

Saraid smiled seductively at the man as they swayed and twirled, whispering dreams into his fevered mind, luring him deeper until he became lost in the dryad's beauty and hedonistic promises. They danced and kissed and laughed, slowly fading, until they disappeared from the face of the earth.

Under the hypnotic Lore skies, on a bed of dream-soft grass, Saraid seduced the human and indulged herself with his desires. She was impressed with his vigor and endurance, and allowed his human body temporary intermissions before continuing with his amorous attentions. It was during those brief respites that she learned more of him and his tale. Not that she was truly interested, but Saraid thought to learn more in order to decide his fate.

His name was Simon. He had no kin or progeny, and few friends. His skills were of a creative sort, but he worked with metals. Even in his delirium, Simon had an undertone of being morose and independent. There was no good place in Saraid's court for one such as him, and so she eventually returned Simon back to the Verden.

Saraid knew by the telling of the trees that over a century had passed in the time of mortals, as would occasionally happen; time in the Lore didn't always follow the same universal laws as it did in the Verden. Sometimes only a few moments would pass between the planes, and other times decades flew by. Saraid saw no reason to mention it after she released Simon from his induced delirium. He was only human, and less than significant in her eyes - a toy to be played with.

The man's first concerns were for his gear, which had all disappeared with the exception of his pistol. It was half-buried in the rocky mud of the brook, completely rusted through and slowly disintegrating. In his rage, Simon cussed Saraid, referred to her as an ugly demon, and said rather disparaging comments about her erotic performance and sexual capabilities. She knew the words to be audacious lies, of course, but slanderous nonetheless.

Suffering no insult from a mere mortal, Saraid called to nature, which snared Simon with vines and branches to hold him in place. She approached the struggling human, letting him calm as he stared into the face of otherworldly indignation.

"Since you are without kin," she said with a soft but cold voice, "especially in this new age, I afflict you thus: All of mankind will only see the worst of you. Only the basic of necessities will your society allow, and even then not without trial or tribulation. Your only escape from the bane of mankind is with the interaction with one of your own bloodline. With dilution of your blood will come apathy, and those of thin blood will see you as others do. Only those with strong enough bonds, should there be any, will see beyond the curse and thus free you of it. As balance, should you break the curse before your mortal demise, you will be granted favor with what you desire most at the time of your release. Without siblings or heirs, may luck be on your side, although I grant you none. Let it be done and so."

Saraid looked up into Simon's stricken face and captured his light eyes with her own violet gaze. She then fogged his mind of their encounter in its entirety. He would only remember hiking into the mountains, resting, and waking into a new world, perhaps remembering vague dreams of a beautiful woman and passion, if only to torment him.

Still in a stupor, Simon was released from his bindings and led like a sleepy child out of the white birch grove by the dryad. Gently commanded to rest against a boulder not far off, Saraid smiled vindictively as the human settled against the rock and closed his eyes. When Simon Rike woke from his nap, his world would be a memory, with only confusion and fiery spite to replace it.

***

Present

A cold mid-November rain fell and drummed off of the new shingle roof of the open-faced stone shed. Brody hurried into its dry interior, pushing the last of the delivered granite blocks in with a handcart. His dogs moved aside, and then resettled.

Brody looked out onto the drenched lawn and up to the new patio with its Plexiglas roof. Jack and the Gavin brothers had done quality work, and expediently. Brody kept them busy, and for an extended period, but the new photos on their website garnered the company some fresh business and they moved on to other clients when the initial contract was completed.

The larger patio was finished, as well as two stone shelter sheds and reconstruction of some of the border walls. Brody planned to finish Kate's sitting area on his own, and would tinker with creating a walking path between the southern paddocks as time permitted.

With all the space, he toyed with the idea of farm animals, but then frowned at the thought. Brody knew nothing of sheep or horses or cattle, other than that they were picturesque whenever he'd drive by a farm. Kate knew some about horses and such, having learned from her father, Liam – he owned a few horses when his kids were young. Nonetheless, Brody didn't want to worry himself with training and saddles and all of the other upkeep that a serious horse owner would. He was trying in some way to keep things simple, like his initial plan.

Brody had been in Ireland for nearly three months, and they were anything but simple. He had met some great people, which helped with his pain of loss. He had fallen hard and fast for one of them; Kate was a continuous blessing he couldn't have hoped to ask for. She agreed to live with him, and Brody couldn't remember being so happy. Of course, fate made him earn it, namely with paranormal activities and violence. It was with the former that actually drew more of Brody's irritation than the latter.

Some things were for the better because of the Other Crowd, and some worse, but they had taken away some of Brody's control over his own life. Kate had found a new gift, her mother had mellowed somewhat, and the fae were obviously helpful in the incident concerning the Wagner's. On the other hand, one of them had instigated the violence, including the torture of his friend Jamal and death of Don Keller's former lawyer and his wife. They were the source of Cora's initial bitterness, which had a chain effect.

Brody also admitted to himself that Kate's gift sometimes unnerved him; he felt a part of his privacy was unintentionally violated in her presence. When she'd catch that dark nimbus with her new sight and politely inquire, Brody would explain it with a simple, "damn fairies", which was essentially true.

Because of that exposure to his emotional states, Brody was torn between convincing Kate to quit her job at the bank, or let the idea go. He wanted her close, yet that nimbus thing... It was something he'd have to get used to. With Brody's offer of Kate being hid financial advisor still on the table, she'd probably quit soon enough on her own anyway.

Discussed either in bed or over a meal, Kate had some ideas in mind to further his philanthropic desires. She seemed excited over her notions, and continued to research to make sure they were financially viable. Brody was happily intrigued with her initial thoughts as well, although his memory of a personal, hands-on approach was invigorating, to say the least.

Nonetheless, his tactic was a risk to his privacy, and Kate's approach was safer and possibly more inclusive. Those words seemed to suck the thrill out of his goals, but they were more logical.

Over the past week, Brody had begun testing the waters of sculpting, and started with abstract shapes. He only ordered limestone and granite to start, compositions he had experience with. Marble, while more aesthetic, was a material yet to be thoroughly tested for his conceptual ideas. Brody's first thoughts were to give an impression other than stone; giving a rock the shape of natural flow, like wood or water, might catch an admiring eye. That, in essence, was his intent: create something he enjoyed, and hopefully others might appreciate it as well. If his work became popular enough to sell, then it'd be a nice bonus.

The chirp of Brody's text signal brought him out of his thoughts. It was from Amy O'Sullivan, a cousin of Fiona's who was accomplished at genealogy and ancestry searches. Since Kate brought the subject up just before his birthday in early October, Brody had been interested in getting to know more about his heritage. Not just any Lynch's in Ireland - there were plenty - but more in the way of his own direct line. He hoped there were more than just the Wagner's to call family. All Brody was aware of, besides his criminal cousins, were the names and faded memories of grandparents.

Amy's text asked him to call at his convenience. Besides having some information, she also wanted to talk about something she found, something 'very strange'.

Chapter 2

Past

Ragnar of the Red Rock was the troll's name, with an apt and highly respected title. A stoic and venerable fae, he had held one of the Nine Seats of the Circle on a few occasions \- as many elders have - but only when requested. Ragnar wanted little to do with judgments, other than to enforce them if necessary. He was more inclined to travel far and wide, temporarily living and working amongst humans, to learn more of them. With returns to the Lore, challenges usually awaited him for claim of his mountain lair, whose caves held many fae bridges to the Verden lands.

The title, 'of the Red Rock', was granted by the Circle for the many victorious results of Ragnar's challenge combats. Facing an opponent, he would turn the ground beneath him to stone, and draw from its strength. Challengers, pummeled by hands of granite, spilt their blood on Ragnar's rocky ground. With many victories, and of elder age, the title was appropriately given.

Although trolls could range widely in size, Ragnar was of the larger variety at nearly nine feet tall, with considerable bulk. His skin, a dusty plum color, showed evidence of many fierce battles. Two small curved horns protruded from his forehead, and ears were shaped in the same fashion. Ragnars's hairless jaw and scarred nose were prominent, as was his mane of shoulder-length, rich purple hair.

Beneath that grim visage was a kind heart, only noticeable from carefully chosen words in his soft-spoken bass voice. Ragnar was well-versed in manifestation, in that he could appear in the Verden as a completely normal human, albeit a normally large version of one. In those altering guises, he traveled about to learn more of everyday people. Their passions and acts of courage intrigued Ragnar to no end.

And so it was, in the brisk early morning of late November 1988, that Ragnar had chosen to shadow a team of firemen to a call on the south side of Kansas City, Missouri. Arson fires had been set within the extensive supplies for a highway construction operation, thankfully distant from residential zones.

Ragnar watched from nearby, on the edge of the supply depot near an access road. He had just taken notice of oncoming headlights when his sense of foreboding blared into his mind. The huge troll quickly took form of a large human in a fireman's coat and helmet, let his form be seen by mundane sight, and went to go warn the approaching vehicle. He couldn't get to the car in time before it sped past him, but saw yet another set of headlights that came around the curve.

The sudden explosion was massive; two trailers of unmarked containers that held 50,000 lbs. of fuel oil and ammonium nitrate went off in one enormous blast. The six firefighters were killed instantly; dangerous debris was flung onto and over the nearby highway; windows up to a quarter of a mile away cracked or shattered; the nearest fire engine was flipped onto its side and set ablaze.

Jerry Lynch had been working third shift at his warehouse job, only to show upper management that he'd do what was necessary to move up. The hours were causing a bit of tension at home; Rose was working part-time herself, and little Brody was a handful, as some three-year-olds could be.

Jerry had been fighting the flu for the past two days; that night he'd been heaving in a bathroom stall as much as he was on the production floor. His supervisor told Jerry to go home and quelled the tall shift leader's concerns as he walked him to the office, there wouldn't be any negative reflection for it. Reluctantly, Jerry clocked out, had one more dry-heave before getting into his truck, and started for home.

He had to stop quickly at the parking lot exit when a car went shooting by. It was a sedan with a big emblem on the passenger door, only a blur because of its velocity. Jerry was surprised; traffic on that road in early morning hours was usually non-existent. He checked again for any other cars and then left the lot in the same direction.

Just around the far curve, beyond a shielding row of pines, Jerry saw the warble of emergency lights and the glow of flames up to the right at the crest of the low hill he was ascending. He caught the movement of a fireman running toward the speeding vehicle ahead, but it zoomed by before he could reach the road.

Just as the fireman turned to Jerry's headlights, the concussion of a thunderous roar slammed Jerry into his driver's door, and a huge roiling pillar of flame lit the night sky.

Momentarily stunned and blinded, Jerry jammed his foot on the brake pedal, bringing his truck to a skidding, crooked halt. The pluming mushroom of fire cast deep shadows into the gulley next to the road, where the fireman was last seen. Peering through the dust-covered windshield, Jerry detected slow and sluggish movement in the long, dead grass of the trench.

Ignoring the lurch in his stomach, he jumped out of the truck and ran to the fallen man. Jerry saw the big firefighter face down, but struggling to rise. That was when he noticed the jagged piece of rebar sticking out of the man's back.

The wounded man initially spoke in a strange foreign language through gritted teeth, but soon switched to English and implored Jerry to pull the metal out. The fireman's coat hid any bleeding, and Jerry was sure he didn't want to see the metal stabbed into the huge man's flesh to begin with. He knew all sorts of emergency vehicles would arrive very shortly, and would simply flag someone down then. That was his plan, anyway.

Then the big man turned his head to Jerry, and their eyes made contact, grey to luminescent blue. At the fireman's second request to remove the puncturing rebar, Jerry felt compelled to grant his request. Nearly a foot of imbedded metal slid out of the wounded man, and Jerry expected a gush of blood to follow, but the heavy coat must have hidden that as well. Surprisingly, the fireman sat up and turned to meet Jerry's stare again.

Ragnar of the Red Rock found himself in a human's debt; not from courage, but rather compassion. He trembled with pain, but managed to swallow it down in order to signify his duty of obligation. "Your name, sir?" he asked.

Jerry kept a hand on the huge man's shoulder to steady him while he kept looking for anyone to signal. "Jerry - I'm Jerry. You just hang in there, pal. Help's on the way, okay?"

Ragnar leaned forward on one hand as he felt the burn of expended energy, willing himself to heal the grievous wound. With a clenched jaw, he said, "Thank you, Jerry. I am in your debt, more than you know."

The rebar was machine-pressed metal and not hand-wrought, and so it wasn't lethal to any fae. However, contact with iron of any sort prevented Ragnar's ability to remove his presence from human sight; he couldn't escape the scene unnoticed with an iron rod speared through him. Not to mention that the explosion-propelled projectile had done serious damage and he couldn't heal around it. The lanky human had done Ragnar a great service.

Jerry leaned down to him, concerned, and not a little surprised - the fireman was doing pretty well for having a metal rod slammed through him. He thought maybe the guy was in shock or something. "Don't worry about it, buddy. Hey, don't move around too much, okay? Just hold still 'til we can get someone over here."

The wound receded from a stabbing burn to a deep ache. "Jerry, I must repay your selfless act. I am honor-bound."

"Look, really, it's nothing. Just right time, wrong place, ya know? Besides, you guys are the heroes. Running into burning buildings, saving people... I don't think I could do it."

"And yet, you just did."

They grinned at each other in the glow of the lowering flame. "Okay, maybe," Jerry replied, "but stop with all that debt and repaying me talk, alright? I'm just glad I could help. Now just keep calm, big guy; we'll get you some better help in just a minute."

Ragnar found himself in a perplexing situation. He needed to satisfy the serious debt, but the tall, lanky man politely refused any recompense. A debt unpaid would cost the troll loss of honor, especially when owed to a human. He then looked intently at Jerry, enchanting him once more. "Jerry, do you have a family?"

"Yes," the human responded immediately, "a wife and small child."

"Good. You will go to them now, and forget that we have ever met. You were past this location when the explosion happened, and all you want to do is go home and rest."

Jerry nodded numbly. "Yeah, I need some sleep." He got up and slowly returned to his truck.

With the wound only a tingle at that point, Ragnar removed himself from mundane sight and climbed into the bed of Jerry's truck.

Jerry drove home cautiously. He parked in the driveway of his duplex fifteen minutes later and crept in quietly. Ragnar followed the human up to the door and mentally noted the address. Without an offer to enter, he was unable to do so of his own accord, and would have to linger near their home.

Two days later was unseasonably warm, and Rose took little Brody - just year away from starting kindergarten \- out on the large back porch to let him play while she caught up with a book. When the phone rang inside, she made sure the gate leading to the backyard was locked before she ran in to answer.

Immediately after, Ragnar reached over the railing of the porch, placing an unseen hand over the jacketed chest of Jerry's child. The troll quickly murmured, "What the father would not receive, I give to the son. With the influence of the Lore, and by my own fae offering, I grace this child with a measure of my essence and gifts. Let it serve him well until time claims him. This is freely given by Ragnar of the Red Rock in reward. Let it be done and so."

Brody looked up with curious, light eyes in the troll's direction. Then Rose returned to the porch with cordless phone in hand, and little Brody returned to his plastic container of Legos. Ragnar smiled serenely down on the child before finally departing, his honor intact.

***

Present

As he stood under the high dome of the pillared pavilion, Devlin Ryder remembered the first time he was in the center of that circular construct, surrounded by nine seated elders. He'd felt awed and honored on that first occasion, called for by the Circle of Prudence to act as magistrate to enforce one of the few laws of the Lore.

In times since, he continued to mete out justice in what he thought was admirable fashion when called upon, and the Circle was always satisfied with the outcomes. Being requested yet again to do their bidding, Devlin now felt undaunted by his surroundings, and had fostered a haughty pride at his social standing.

The proud Devlin was unaware that his ascending vanity was built upon hollow stairs. Objectively, his results were merely adequate for the Circle, but the requests for his repeated presence came from a biased elder.

Even though Devlin was of the fair folk and not a dryad like Saraid, she favored him. She considered him capable for the missions he was assigned, and an adequate and covert lover, but it was mostly because Devlin could keep his mouth shut. Any additional efforts that she privately asked of him for a given task were accepted in clandestine fashion and seen to without question. For Saraid, Devlin's pride was only matched by his lust; his weakness of her charms made for a useful tool.

Devlin stood relaxed but alert on the polished stones of the pavilion floor, absently noting the surrounding landscape of wild fields and distant woods. The gathering of the Circle was always on a random piece of neutral ground, never on the holdings of any elder. The whole of the pavilion - floor, pillars, and dome - were of white marble veined with gold, which held a simple grandeur. The structure only came into being when a gathering was required, and acted as a beacon for whichever elders would be claiming a seat.

Although there were nine areas for seats to signify the nine races of fae, it was uncommon that one member from each race was present; a few races occasionally chose not to bother themselves with a gathering, or simply had no elders available at that time. Those vacant spots were filled by other elders of varying race, asked by the majority to have a voice in the proceedings. Most considered it an honor, to some a duty, and only a few saw the request as an inconvenience.

And so Devlin waited patiently as the last of the Circle arrived to take their seats. Tall and slender, with straight lemon-colored hair that reached his waist, he adjusted the black robes under his intricately-detailed lacquered oak armor. Devlin stood tall and confident under the scrutiny of the Nine, his long tapered ears alert for any hushed conversations before formal commencement, his lavender eyes respectfully but boldly returning the gaze of any intent onlookers.

Most of the elders in attendance were vaguely familiar to Devlin; only a few did he know by name. The powerful sprite, Egon Soulsinger, with his wavy chocolate-colored hair and huge coral eyes, was known to all. If there were to be a high lord of Lore, as some hoped, then Egon would be many a fae's candidate. Two seats along was the bulky and somber Ragnar of the Red Rock, who wore the look of the weary. His presence in the Circle was uncommon, but his reputation as a traveler and warrior was highly respected. Last known to Devlin, and intimately, was Saraid Moon Maiden. Gorgeous, clever, and dangerous - it was a combination hard for most fae to resist. It was she who called the Circle into session.

The beautiful dryad elder sat reclined in her fur-lined chair and spoke the first words of formality. "The Circle of Prudence has been gathered. Let a voice be heard."

The sprite Egon stood from his simple stone seat, somewhat short in stature but powerful in bearing. Straightening his simple vermilion toga, his melodic voice carried easily through the pavilion. "There have been breaches of the Enigma. Localized mortals have learned of the fae, and allowed to go unchecked. Even marginal glimpses are not allowed, or at least must be sanctioned. This must be contained, if not reversed. Agreed?"

There were nods of approval, accompanied with a few voiced consents. As Egon sat, a Drommen (the secretive and sight-gifted race of fae) stood. He was tall and gaunt, draped in layers of black that covered most of his bluish grey skin. Only a thin, wide mouth under a long hawk nose could be seen under his lowered hood. With hands tucked into the opposite sleeves, he quietly said, "The breaches have been sensed about the village of Ballaghadaere, in the land of Eire. Search for one of my race, Enochia Eversight, who will be obliged to assist your search. Her haven is secluded, so call upon low caste to fetch her. There are pixies, dryads, and gnomes who roam that area."

Saraid remained seated as she gave further instruction to Devlin. "A bridge to that Verden locale will be afforded to you for this task. It will lead you to a wild pocket of land that is favored by those lesser creatures. Do what you must within our laws to protect and enforce the Enigma."

'What an adventure this might be', the Fair fae thought - not just a single culprit to bring to heel, but an entire village! Devlin nodded, and then with a slight grin, asked, "And in return?"

A voice behind the appointed magistrate cleared his throat. By the sound, Devlin assumed it to be feminine, and turned to face her. A dwarfish Tinker sat in a squat but elaborate pine chair. She was plump, as most Tinkers were, with a grey bun of hair, pleasant face, and wore a simple fallow gown. With a soft, high voice, she answered, "Should you hold estate in the Lore, a bridge to a Verden location of your choice, within reason, will be created for you. Should you have no lands here, a minor haven in any Verden locale, again within reason, will be constructed for you."

Following protocol, Devlin bowed to each elder. As Egon was the voice of the Circle on this occasion, Devlin faced him afterwards. "I accept the duty and the offered recompense. I am appreciative, elders, to again prove my worth."

With that, the gathering had concluded. Some elders vanished immediately, while a few others lingered in discussion. Devlin strolled out from under the pavilion, where his steed was picketed nearby. It was essentially a Verden-style horse; it had a silky, midnight-black hide, but its mane, tail, and feather (tuft of hair around its hooves) were bright yellow. Before Devlin mounted his gaudy steed to embark upon the quest, he saw Saraid approach, and waited.

She ran a small, delicate hand along the steed's nose and spoke quietly. "Be on your guard, Devlin. The Drommen elder, Crios, whispered cautionary words."

The Fair fae stopped checking his saddlebag. "Is that so? And might I inquire how elder Crios came to have your ear in private?"

'By the elements, his insecure banter is becoming tedious', Saraid thought. She fixed her eyes on his. "Your concern should be what those words are, and thankful that I have deigned to pass them along to you."

Devlin bowed his head, while still inwardly suspicious. "I offer my apologies, and my appreciation." He raised his eyes back to hers. "May I ask the nature of this warning?"

"There are elders in the area you journey to."

He smiled smugly. "That does little to warrant my caution. All fae involved are bound to serve the demands of a magistrate." Devlin was enjoying Saraid's performance; under that vain exterior was a gentle heart. He could sense the underlying current of her personal worry for him. While he found it touching, it was better to let her keep up the charade, however transparent.

"Even so," Saraid went on, "all fae have their own agendas, elders especially so. Crios also stated that his far-sight was clouded in respect to that area of the Verden."

"Meaning... what?"

Saraid barely succeeded from rolling her eyes. "It means that the machinations of glamour are already in play. This may not be as simple as finding the appropriate mortals and fogging their memories."

Devlin smiled again as he placed a booted foot in a stirrup and swung up on his steed. "I will heed your words. Is there anything you personally require of me?"

She elegantly slid to the side of the large black beast, and began absently running a delicate finger along the scrollwork of his greaves. "Send message to me naming those involved of the Enigma's breach, and I shall offer my own personal reward."

Devlin bowed in his saddle. "As you wish, milady," he replied with a glint in his eyes.

Saraid watched as Devlin sprinted away across the neutral ground, and came to a decision by the time he was just a dark blob on the horizon. His growing arrogance was souring her favoritism, and she might lose status if she continued to back someone who might soon offend other elders. Perhaps Devlin Ryder's usefulness was coming to an end. Hopefully, his own overconfidence would put him in a precarious position. Better that someone else inadvertently did the dirty work for her.

Chapter 3

Past

The door was what saved Jane McCarthy from many of the pains of youth, primarily the stern words of her mother. That woman was a constant source of confusion and fear, yet sometimes mixed with compassion. It was like her mam didn't know who to be from hour to hour.

It would start with her brother Jack, the oldest; her mam would condemn with harsh or snide words about his carefree and rowdy ways, and said that he invited troubles to come knocking. And when Jack had heard enough or simply didn't want to be bothered, he'd give the good excuses of game practices or matches to attend to and off he went.

Then her mam's spite would turn to Kate, poor Kate. Jane loved her sister and admired the wit and brains that Kate possessed, and was upset that their mam might worry it out of her.

Over the years growing up, Jane saw how her big sister became a shrinking violet, and was so mad at their mam for making pretty Kate feel undesired and undeserving. Despite feeling sad that she went off to university, Jane was glad that Kate escaped mam's hard words.

Jane then worried that, being the last and only child still at home, all of the malice that was shared by three kids would then all fall on her. Luckily, her da intervened more with her than with Jack or Kate, or so it seemed.

So, it was partly her wonderful da that came to Jane's rescue, but mostly it was the door.

A strong imagination is what showed Jane the 'play room' for the first time. She was barely eight, and shared a room with Kate, who was just finishing up secondary. One rainy weekend, while Kate was out with her fun friend Alana, Jane was stuck indoors to play. Her da had come in to work on a door hinge that had given while she sat on her bed and played with dolls and stuffed animals.

Jane looked up when her da set the door aside and went to go get more tools, and took notice of the door propped against a wall. Her imagination took over and created an idea in her head of that door leading to another room in the house, one that her mam didn't know of, where she could hide away.

Jane approached the propped door, letting her fantasies carry her on with the new and exciting idea. With that in mind, she grabbed the door knob. The door seemed to shift, slide upright, and flatten against the wall. Jane was momentarily worried that the door would fall over on her, but she reasoned that her hand on the knob kept it in place. She turned the handle, and it made a curious noise, as if unlatching itself.

Filled with more curiosity than fear, Jane pulled and the door swung open, as if on hinges. There was a room beyond the yawning door, waiting for her.

Jane's da returned before she could go in and explore, so she impatiently waited until he fixed the hinge. He reset the door and finished up, gave Jane a kiss on her forehead, and shut the door behind him. She immediately jumped off the bed and tried the door again, but it just opened to the hallway, as always.

For over a week, Jane was trying every door in the house, concentrating on a 'play room' and pulling them open, but to no avail. She soon decided that normal doors didn't work, and maybe it was a magic wall up in her room. Fearing her mam, Jane only used a pencil to draw a door on that wall, and could erase it afterwards. With the simplistic line drawing finished, Jane thought of her secret room and closed her eyes.

She reached out blindly and felt a handle. She pulled it and opened her eyes, and the room once again awaited her. It was a small, simple space with no windows or lamps, yet somehow lit. Jane hoped there would be a place to sit as she wandered the little room, and bumped into a chair when she turned – a chair that wasn't there before.

As Jane's imagination grew from that thrilling discovery, so did the 'play room'. Once, at her friend Moira's house, Jane realized that it wasn't her bedroom wall that was magical. She and four other friends were playing hide and seek, and Jane found herself cornered in Moira's bedroom. She hastily grabbed a stick of colored chalk they used for wall art, and drew a small door on the back of Moira's actual door. With a moment's concentration, Jane's play room opened up.

So it was the created door that was the secret, the trick to it. Given a surface and something to draw with, her room was wherever she wanted it to be.

Jane practiced everywhere, just to ensure the reality of her play room, and sometimes just for the fun of it. She also found that, when she tried to exit back into the girl's loo at school on one fun occasion, the door wouldn't open when others were just beyond. That built-in measure would save her from explaining something she had no answer for.

Jane also noticed that her cat couldn't enter, even when she carried it, and figured that no one else was allowed in, which was well enough. But it wouldn't do to leave drawn doors all over the village, or be caught erasing them. So Jane thought of a better way.

In the months that followed, the play room expanded and filled in accordance with Jane's wishes. It became roughly 15x30 feet in dimension, and shaped like an attic room with the entry at one end. Two dormer windows were on each angle; on one side, the windows showed nighttime, and the opposite showed day.

The views through those windows reflected Jane's moods. In happy times, the 'day-windows' were blue skies with puffy white clouds floating by over rolling green fields, and the 'night' showed brilliant stars over a comforting forest. In sad times, however, the day skies were grey and rainy, the green fields were mud, while the night stars were replaced with dark skies that flickered with lightning, and the forest was gloomy with a thick fog.

The play-room decorated itself with a desk and chair, a huge pillow – easily big enough to nap on – that changed colors at Jane's whim, stuffed animals, simple pictures on the walls, tables and shelves, and even a small stage for her to practice singing. It seemed only simple items could be in the room; no televisions, stereos, phones, computers, nothing mechanical or with parts, not even things so simple as a box spring for a proper bed.

As a result of studying what would work, Jane's curiosity in general grew and accelerated. Her rising marks in school left less room for her mam to bark, and so she was left to her own devices more often. Although still able to hear through the door when called, Jane had a truly private sanctuary that conformed to her wishes in simplistic degrees. Unlike Kate, her little sister was spared many hardships with a haven of freedom and safety.

***

Present

By the time Brody had finished some sketches onto the limestone and granite blocks, the rain had passed and left a breeze and sunshine in its wake. There was still a nip in the November air, but the vibrant blue sky was a welcome sight. Brody was inspired to take advantage of the beauty that the late morning had offered. He enjoyed rainy weather, but after four days of nearly constant showers and drizzles, enough was enough.

Shirking other self-imposed duties, Brody let the dogs join him for a casual country drive. With Honey in the passenger seat and the growing pups in the back, he drove away from the cottage at a leisurely pace with no destination in mind.

As Brody drove down many of the smaller rural lanes around Ballaghadaere, he came upon a number of houses for sale or simply abandoned. It gave him ideas on how to further help the community and have something of the thrill of personal involvement at the same time. Those ideas led to others; he became increasingly eager to make them happen.

Brody had to stop and jot a few notes before he made his way into the village proper. There were many projects formulating in his mind, but he needed Kate's analysis and intellect to see how they could come to fruition, and to organize them into a semblance of order.

With the windows rolled down a few inches for the dogs, Brody parked near the bank and hurried in. Kate was with a customer, so he went to the teller's counter. Before him sat the white-haired, older co-worker that had been mentioned in past conversations. The older woman smiled pleasantly as Brody came near. He noticed the placard with her name on it to address her formally. "Good day, Mrs. Clarke. How are you?"

"Fine as can be, Mr. Lynch."

"Oh, you don't have to be so formal. I hear I've been a topic around here once or twice, so please just call me Brody."

Mary's grin grew. "That's as may be, but this business deserves professional decorum. I'm sure you understand. Outside of work, I won't be so formal if that suits you, Mr. Lynch."

Brody smiled back at her. "So you'll just call me 'the strapper' out on the street, then?"

Not phased in the slightest, Mary replied, "Oh heavens, no. I'd just follow Kate's example, so I'll just grunt and stare." Her smile was even warmer when she asked how she could assist him.

Brody heard Kate call his name as he received his cash withdrawal. He smirked at Mary as he shook his head and then went over to Kate's desk. She was smiling and sat when he approached. "What a nice surprise. Escaping the house for a bit?"

"Pretty much, but I also have some things to do around here."

"Alright; anything I can help with?"

Brody frowned for a moment. "Actually, yes, but let me tell you a few things first. Do you have a minute or two for me, darlin'?"

Kate's smile grew. "Always, love."

He leaned forward on her desk. "First, I gotta say that I love that dress suit you're wearing."

She glanced down at her attire, then back to him. "Thanks, that's always nice to hear, even though you already said it once this morning."

With a sly grin, Brody continued. "I hope you don't love it, though, because I'm going to rip it off you when you get home." He watched her soft cheeks bloom with color before finishing his thought. "I'd do it right here, right now, and take you on your desk, but I know that Mary would take pictures."

Kate brought a hand to her smiling mouth. "Thank you for embarrassing me yet again. Well done. Did you come here just to torment me?"

Brody's smile faded a bit as serious thoughts came to mind. "Not just - it was a bonus. I have a few other ideas in my head, and I know I'll need your help with them."

Kate placed her hands on the desk. "Don't you have enough on your plate, Brody? Wasn't part of your reasoning in moving here to relax and heal?"

He nodded. "Originally, I guess so. But I think the things I've been doing, and the things I want to try, are helping even more."

Her smile returned. "That's wonderful, love, honestly. But right now I don't have that much time to discuss everything. Can it keep until I get home?"

"That's just the thing, Kate. It's not just that I need your help for the things I want to do; I want to do those things with you by my side. I don't want to be attached at the hip, but I do want us to share more things together - important things. So I'd like you to quit the bank as soon as you can... if you want to."

Kate's cheeks flushed yet again. "I'd love that, but it wouldn't be very proper of me to just walk out. I couldn't do that."

Brody reached across the desk and placed a large hand over hers. "You could give notice for Friday as your last day. Is two and a half days enough notice here? Some of my ideas kinda have a time factor to them. I'm not asking this lightly, darlin' - I know this is a big move. But trust me, there's no gamble involved."

Kate looked into his alluring grey eyes, only taking quick notice of his strong nimbus. She saw love and concern, but he was also swirling with excitement and commitment. "After I finish some of this paperwork, I'll tell Mr. McNally that Friday is my last day."

"But is this what you want? Really want?"

Her brows arched. "I've wanted to move on for a while now. And after what you just said, I'll have no weight on my conscience."

Brody sighed with a slight smile. "Good, I knew that was an issue. There's just one other thing, but it'll be a longer talk. So spare a little time for it sometime tonight, okay?"

"Of course, that'll be fine. Shall I just pick up some dinner on the way home?"

He stood and pushed his chair in. "That'd be great. I'll let you get back to it, darlin'."

Kate pulled some files in front of her and looked up at him. "Off to gather more big ideas?"

"Even better - I'm going to make one of 'em happen."

Brody parked in the nearly-empty church parking lot and saw Father Doyle out front pruning bushes. Letting the dogs out to roam and sniff, he made his way over to the old priest, and they greeted each other casually.

Brody had been giving private contributions to the parish for weeks, especially when Father Doyle would suggest small but worthwhile local charities or fundraisers. In his sermons, the sly old priest would mention how financial quotas were met to fund civic needs, and happily thanked the congregation for their donations. With a smirk, he once privately told Brody that a little guilt for those that didn't tithe a bit extra for the needy kept the public conscience on the right path.

After a bit of idle chat, Brody gave Father Doyle an envelope, saying it was for the farmer's trust to assist anyone who might have a rough winter. He then handed over a check for an impressive amount, and explained that a project would be coming up that would need some labor. Brody asked if the priest could get in touch with any villagers that were looking for work, and make them an offer. It would be honest and simple toil, at good pay, and would last for at least a few weeks. Father Doyle said he'd be glad to pass the word, make some calls, and get things organized.

The old priest then asked if the Kelly brothers were welcome to be invited, as both were still out of work, and Mitch was still on the mend. Brody agreed without hesitation. As an afterthought, he asked the priest to take some of that project money and pay Mitch's hospital bill. In Brody's private thoughts, there was a good chance that the Kelly's surprising behavior over a month ago could be attributed to a certain little fellow with wild orange hair.

Brody then offered that if Mitch wasn't up for labor just yet from his shoulder and facial injuries, then he could be a foreman. Father Doyle thanked him once again as they parted with a handshake. Brody returned the thanks and said that he'd be in touch with the details.

He rounded up the dogs and drove a few short blocks to the estate agent's office. He met with the broker and wanted information on properties; specifically, local detached homes and cottages that had been empty for some time, or instances where owners were simply moving on. He didn't want to buy undervalued homes from folks facing hardship, but he did want a list of those for another purpose. Primarily, Brody wanted rural homes or ones in town that were simply sitting vacant. He even made mention of a few that he saw while rambling around earlier that day.

The broker refined his computer search and came up with lists. The first was of currently occupied homes for sale listed well under market value. Then another list was compiled of common sale or vacant houses and farms within five miles of Ballaghadaere, and most had at least one photo on file.

Brody recognized two immediately, looked over their preliminary notes and low prices, and wrote a check for them. He asked the broker to get further inspections on a number of other sites that were at or under the price he was willing to pay. The young agent eagerly complied and said he'd email Brody his findings.

While signing deeds, Brody mentioned that Father Doyle would be in touch with the estate office to arrange for labor at the purchased locations. The broker said he'd be glad to be of assistance as long as Brody requested it, and would email the itinerary of those activities as well.

Brody made a quick call to the priest's private number and left a message explaining the type of labor. The places he'd just bought were most likely in need of simple external repair, but more importantly was lawn care and maintenance. Also mentioned was the suggested use of a church van for labor transportation, as well as getting any needed tools and a trailer for mowers.

Brody left the estate agent's office in great spirits, and decided to stock up on groceries again while in town. While he leisurely shopped the aisles in the big food-mart, he called Fiona. She answered and, with the sound of her kids in the background, initially chatted about various subjects familiar to them both. He thought that the while the lady loved to talk, at least she kept conversations interesting.

Finally getting to the reason for the call, Brody inquired if she and Jack knew of a reliable general contractor through their business dealings. Fiona referred a company, with one of their employee's names and business number. Brody assumed that his new estate purchases might need some interior work, and wanted reliable people for it.

Full of inspiration, Brody took the dogs back home. Once there, he decided that the long list of plans could stand to be one shorter. The outdoor sitting area that was started over a month ago still sat in half-completion, and a vent was needed for his excess energy and exuberance that had built up. Besides, he felt grateful to Kate for so many little things, and finishing her 'spot' would be one of many reciprocations.

Stones were reset in sturdier alignment and the gravel was stamped. The posts were securely planted and then roughed, dented, and stained. Tightening fasteners were applied to the canvas roofing for security, yet still easily removed to enjoy good weather. Satisfied with his work, Brody had time to clean up and relax before Kate returned home.

As soon as she walked in the door, Brody kept his promise, although he tried to do as little damage to Kate's business suit as possible. Likewise, when the pizza box fell from Kate's hand and hit the floor with the top open, the dogs attacked it with equal passion.

Chapter 4

Past

Not so long after Jane's initial discovery of her magical doors, she began to feel that her play room was sometimes a lonely place. As she unrolled the large piece of thick paper with a door drawn on it, Jane thought that it would have been nice if some of her friends could come in and see what she created, but only from time to time.

However, as Jane applied the stick tabs and pressed them to her bedroom wall, she then decided that her play room was her own special place, her personal haven, as much for daydreams as for escape, so maybe sharing wasn't such a good idea.

Jane entered and set down her books, musing over the idea of having guests, when she caught movement in the mirror of something behind her desk. Feeling safe and confident in a room of her own creation, Jane called for whoever or whatever might be hiding.

A strange little fellow timidly emerged, shy but smiling. The skin on his youthful face was tan, which contrasted with his white, curly hair and long tuft from his chin. Long elfin ears tapered out and away from his frizzy skull, and soft, light brown eyes told of his gentle nature. He wore simple, coarse brown trousers and grey workman's shirt tucked in over a small, round belly. His little leather boots had no laces or buttons, and did nothing to bolster his height of a mere meter. Most curious of all were two gently curving, thick horns that began at his scalp and ended over the top of his head.

Jane thought this is what it would look like if a well-fed sheep turned into a human.

With a melodic voice, the little creature said his name was Gideon, and would be happy to give Jane some companionship from time to time. In return for a 'morsel or two', he offered to play his flute while she sang.

Jane thought this was wonderful – a little magic man to go along with her magic room. In her mind, she knew the situation was far beyond normal and that her sanity may have jumped the tracks, but her heart told her to enjoy the gift.

Gideon would listen to Jane sing, and noted that her voice was quite enchanting, even at that young age. He also played the flute for her, and regaled her with outrageous tales while he devoured whatever food she managed to sneak up to him. He told stories of magical sea kingdoms, of dragons and maidens, or wistful romance. Gideon knew all the tales of Ireland's mythology, and told of the old gods and heroes with dramatic flair.

Jane always enjoyed their time together, although her little friend was absent more often than not. Those times when he would be in her play room, they wouldn't speak of mundane events; it was always gaiety and high times.

Gideon the fae – a morpher, his type was called – simply happened to be in the McCarthy house one day, taking advantage of an unattended sandwich when he felt glamour from a room upstairs. He soon discovered that little Jane, a pretty and vibrant teen, could make spaces in the void between the Verden and the Lore; truly fascinating.

Gideon could only slip into that space when Jane opened the door to it, and could only exit when she opened it again. He was once trapped in there – too busy eating a box of crackers – and Jane didn't return for two days. Famished, he slipped out when she finally returned, and grazed with a flock of sheep for over a week.

True, Gideon liked to create tall tales and tell elaborate lies, but never to harm. He only told Jane of fantasies and wild adventures, nothing that she could find to be true or false. She gave off glamour, more than most other children, and so Gideon only fueled that flame when he made time to be in Jane's presence... and only in her void space. Other times, he'd be in owl or sheep form, feeding and moving about like a plump gypsy.

The fact that Jane was so full of dreams and fantasies gave Gideon an excuse for revealing himself in such a safe place, and only to her. Being cautious and logical, he clouded Jane's mind repeatedly to remember him and their history only when in her created space. Jane remained oblivious of her magical friend when in the mundane world, although her imagination was temporarily bolstered from their time together.

Years passed, and while Jane grew out of many childish endeavors and games, she always kept a door ready. She still occasionally visited the play room, and its decor mutated to her maturing whims.

Stuffed animals came and went, or were replaced by newer simplistic toys. Pictures and portraits became posters of Jane's favorite singers and stars. The desk grew larger and modern, as did the chair. Sometimes she had a net and footballs to practice her kicks. The little stage remained, and Jane continued to train and rehearse her voice with hymns and old Gaelic tunes, besides popular radio songs sung either a cappella or along with simple guitar chords.

Jane kept her belief of Gideon while in the play room, as she had of the magic of her doors. How could she not? His occasional presence was undeniable. Whenever her burgeoning maturity caused her faith to falter, the diminutive morpher would come knocking. He would explain that those without Jane's gift of imagination or knowledge of her play room simply had no way to gain access.

Gideon, however, was a creature of magic; an embodiment of the wonders that the play room possessed. As Jane grew out of childhood, she would challenge Gideon's existence with questions. His normal elusive and vague replies were that he was as real as the room, and then he'd throw a stuffed animal at her as proof.

Gideon continued to visit Jane from time to time, surprised and happy that the growing teen still kept that dream of her haven so very much alive. However, it was harder to keep on the topic of wishes and daydreams with the girl; she became increasingly concerned with matters of teenage gossip, boys, and school.

One of the dreams that Jane did keep in her heart was to make something of her singing. In talks with Gideon, she'd fantasize about success in Galway, and possibly the whole of Ireland. That could lead to being a European star, and maybe even get her into the American market. Jane began to write her own lyrics, gleaning inspiration from Gideon's grandiose and ridiculous tales.

Jane was quite content with Gideon's company. He was quick with a wild fable and always interested when she spoke of hopes and aspirations. For his part, the diminutive fae enjoyed the girl's presence as well. She was bright and clever, and had a truly melodic voice. Lil' Jane also enjoyed Gideon's yarns as much as he enjoyed weaving them. There was little better than an appreciative audience... except perhaps some cream and biscuits.

***

Present

Sharp hazel eyes, shaded by straight, wheat-colored hair scanned the vast array of canned goods down aisle nine of the huge grocery store. 'Blue hell, look at these prices', thought Simon to himself. He no longer had the money to throw at fancy labels, which was all this store seemed to sell, but his welcome was worn at the cheaper shops closer to home. Simon grimaced inwardly at his current predicament, and he saw no light at the end of his tunnel.

Simon's blacksmith shop, the Rike Smithy, was in a slow but steady decline. Advertising was of little help, with fewer and fewer customers visiting his shop for quality wares. He'd gradually expanded his trade from farrier work and tools to include garden supplies, knives and axes, even pots and pans. Most of Simon's business came from phone or internet sales, which actually suited him fine. Simon Rike was never what most would call sociable; several would say the opposite. He wasn't fond of many, and some returned the favor, either immediately or eventually.

But for some reason, anyone who met Simon since he 'came back' took an unwavering dislike to him, most of the time without him earning their ire beforehand. Not that folks wouldn't sometimes take a dislike to him once they got to know him, but in the 'new world', as he called it, it seemed that Simon was wearing a hate-me sign on his back.

"Hey asshole, you're blocking the aisle." The irritated voice from behind Simon interrupted his sour musings. 'Shit, here we go again', he thought as he turned. The angry shopper was nondescript, in his forties and going grey, average height and build. The man's wife was on the pretty side of plain, but time was not her friend. The only noticeable features were their matching scowls, as if Simon had just pissed on their supper.

There seemed to be enough space for their cart to go around, so Simon returned their scowls. "Look here, fella," he shot back, "If your wife's fat ass is too big to get around me, then that's your problem. Now if you're on the shoot just 'cause you got a bug in your britches, then you just woke up the wrong dog."

While the wife's face went from disgust to shock, the husband came around his cart and forward aggressively. While Simon was slim, he was well-defined from his work. He also had about four inches on the man with the reddening face who approached.

Simon expected more useless words and spewing of threats, but was surprised when the man shoved him without any verbal foreplay. He took one step back as his opponent took another step forward and slowly brought fists to bear. Lightning-quick, Simon's left fist caught the man on the jaw, sending him reeling back into his own cart and falling to the shiny linoleum floor. As the cart spun away from the impact, the wife screamed.

A new hand from behind Simon grabbed the wool collar of his denim jacket. He spun to dislodge the hand and deftly avoided the wild fist of a younger man, whose attire marked him as one of the store employees. Simon whipped a snake-like right jab to the youngster's nose, followed by a left hook to his stomach. As the young man grunted and stumbled to his knees, Simon bowed his head, shook it in anger, and then turned to walk to the front of the store. He paused at the wife, who knelt over her groaning husband. She looked up at him with naked hatred.

With a stern glare, Simon looked down into her dark eyes. "Ya know, ma'am, if you was use that big mouth for a better purpose, maybe your husband wouldn't be so damned pissy." Without waiting for a reaction, he resumed his walk, letting her curses bounce off his back.

Groceries left behind, Simon stepped outside into a cold November breeze to wait for the Denver police to show up. He sat on the curb, rolling a quirley while the store manager in the doorway yelled at him. Ignoring the man, Simon lit his smoke and let out a long nicotine sigh.

It had almost become a routine for Simon, getting into fights, so he knew what to expect. He had quickly come to find out that most places had video cameras, so the law couldn't hold him for too long when the evidence showed that he normally didn't start the altercation.

This was why Simon had to keep looking for new places to shop; it was an eventuality. The only silver lining was that his pugilism skills were in fine form. The locations varied, but the results never did. Taverns, grocery stores, barber shops, gas stations, restaurants, libraries, even the last couple of hookers he tried to pick up - all ended poorly, if not violently.

That was one of the bad things about this new world... Whores were illegal? What had this country come to while he was gone?

***

Foregoing the shower that usually followed after their carnal exertions, Brody wanted to show Kate her completed sitting area before the sun completely set. They hastily dressed in sweats, jackets, and wellies, and walked hand in hand out to her favorite spot, recently finished. She was taken with the final work, but light-heartedly chided Brody for taking his sweet time getting around to it.

They sat in comfort and spoke of simple things while the sky deepened in shade and the clouds varied in hues; pink, orange, violet, and finally relenting to grey. Kate couldn't remember ever feeling so relaxed, so blissful, and Brody was happy to see the contentment in her eyes and posture.

Before most of the residual warmth of the day yielded to cold night air, Brody told Kate of the new plans he'd thought of, and set some into action already. She thought they were wonderful, generous ideas, and they discussed particular aspects of each. He pointed out parts of his plans where she'd be very helpful.

More was mentioned of Kate's ideas for financial tactics, but she remained vague, explaining that her research was nearly complete and would show Brody her proposal when all the details were set.

Kate then inquired if those were the topics that Brody wanted to discuss, mentioned earlier in the day. Shaking his head, he escorted her back inside to escape the cooling night air to talk about what was foremost on his mind.

The couple sat at the kitchen table as a pot of apple and parsnip soup slowly warmed on the stove. Facing each other, Kate became worried in seeing Brody's face and nimbus in silent turmoil. She reached across and softly grasped his large, rough hands with her own. He briefly looked up with a pained smile, but said nothing. Small delicate fingers gently squeezed his strong, burly, callused digits, imploring Brody with the simple gesture to say whatever was gnawing at him. Kate hoped he would speak soon; the longer he waited, the more her unfounded fear grew.

Brody released a deep breath and looked into those large, warm russet brown eyes. "You know I love you, right?" he began.

Kate's eyes widened with dread. Slowly pulling her hands free of his, she murmured, "Oh hell."

"What?"

With her eyes facing the table, she explained, "When a conversation starts off like that, it usually doesn't end well."

Brody took Kate's hands back in his. She hesitantly looked up and saw him frowning at her. "Would you knock it off?' he said with a stern tone. "Do you think I'd ask you to live with me... ask you to quit your job so I could have you more to myself, to be there for each other at any time, only to turn around and say it isn't working?"

Kate dropped her gaze to their entwined hands. "Sorry, but those first words put the heart crossways in me. It's just that I've never been so happy. I didn't know I could feel this good all the time. That is, em, most of the time; now and again I'm afraid all this is a dream and I'll wake up."

Brody pulled a thumb and index finger away from their grasp and gave her smooth skin a pinch.

"Ouch!"

He reclaimed her hands with his. "There, now you're awake. You're in the place you love - our home. That aroma is the tasty food you made in our kitchen. You're holding hands with the man who you've made happier than he's ever been. I'm not going anywhere, darlin', not without you. And how this conversation ends is up to you, okay?"

Quite placated, and even with a small smile, Kate nodded.

Brody tried again to collect his words. "There's something that sometimes makes me... anxious, and I don't know how you'll react to it. I just figured that I shouldn't hold anything back. I mean, we agreed to be honest, and this is important to me."

Kate tightened her grip. "Did I do something wrong?"

He shook his head and looked away. "No, not you; or, maybe... kinda you, but it's not like you did anything wrong. Shit, I don't..." Brody looked back to her. "It's your gift \- your nimbus sight."

Kate wasn't expecting that revelation, and it made her both curious and defensive. "I think it has been quite helpful, and in some cases very much so. I've gotten closer with my mam, and improved my understanding of any problems of the people in my life. It has helped me to avoid people with dark feelings, and a better chance to help someone who is hurting in some way. I think my new gift has helped me be a better person, someone who could help people, like you try to do."

Brody rubbed her hands in his. "Kate, relax. I think it's a gift, too. Otherwise, I wouldn't call it a gift. We've talked about how your nimbus has helped you out a lot, and I'm happy that you're more confident because of it."

She cocked her head and frowned. "Then what part of all that is bothering you?"

He patted her hands, released them, and went to the stove. He stirred the delicious-smelling soup for a few moments in silence. Brody then edged over to lean against a wall and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I've always been kind of a private person. You know, kept things to myself, never let many people in."

Kate turned in her chair to face him. "And, you feel like my special sight violates your privacy?"

Brody shrugged. "I guess, sometimes... yeah."

She thought a moment before asking, "You know how sometimes you'll catch me looking at you?" He pursed his lips and nodded his head. "Brody, that's just me being in love - it's a big part of that grand dream feeling I mentioned, and it's also longing and lust and just being completely yours. I'd like to think when I see you looking at me in that way, it's for the same reason, yes?"

He nodded again with a grin. "Yeah, it is."

Kate walked over to Brody, her eyes searching his after she pressed herself against his large muscular form. "I'm not constantly gauging your emotions. In fact, those times are rare. But now and again my gift will alert me to a bold color, one I wouldn't normally see from you, and I want to help if it's a dark feeling. As I'm sure you know, part of love is concern and worry. I know you've had some dark times in your life lately, and I just want to ease that pain. I hate to see you upset, love."

Brody smiled before he leaned down to kiss her soft, receptive lips. "I understand, darlin', and thank you for telling me that. I felt bad for bringing it up, but without asking I might have felt like it was..." He frowned in thought.

"Spying?"

"Yeah; kind of an ugly word, but pretty much. Ever since you moved in, though, I doubt there've been many times that you've seen me with dark moods, have you?"

Kate rested her cheek on his strong chest. "Only when you've been irritated with The Other Crowd, or when you're mourning your losses. And, no, those haven't been often."

Brody wrapped his arms around her. "I gotta admit that when I said it was... them, sometimes it was. Other times it was feeling vulnerable because of your sight, which is basically because of them."

She pulled back enough to look up at him. "Fair enough; I suppose you really didn't lie. But no more vague replies if I ask out of concern, alright? We agreed to honesty."

He pulled her back into his embrace. "Agreed, but let me have some space when my mind gets to thinking about my family, or people who were like family, okay? I need to let that work itself out."

Brody felt Kate's head nod under his chin before she said, "I know you're not accustomed to it, but talking about it could help ease the pain."

"Kinda like the talk we're having right now?"

Kate moved away to give the soup a quick stir. "Exactly, and don't you feel better?"

He moved past her to the cupboard and set out bowls. "About your gift, yes, but just let me deal with those losses in my own way for now. I know you're there if I need to... verbalize it."

She turned to him, stirring spoon in hand. "So, have I calmed your concerns?" After a quick pause, Kate added, "We're okay?"

Brody crossed his arms with a ceramic bowl in one hand and said with a smirk, "Well, I will be as soon as you stop yammering and feed me, woman."

Chapter 5

Six years. It had been more than six years since Simon Rike had awoken in the modern world. It still haunted him, and probably always would. Next to coming back to a world that inexplicably hated him, the nightmares were the worst part of his ordeal. The dreams would start simply enough, depicting some part of his earlier life in nineteenth century America, somewhere around the time when Colorado became a state - his home state. And then it would go horribly wrong.

Simon was never sure why the dream version of mountains and thick forests now terrified him, but more often than not he woke with a sudden start, panting and damp with sweat.

In the predawn of a cold November morning, Simon laid his head back down on his clammy pillow and stared up, only seeing memories that, while still somewhat fresh to him, were actually mental pictures that were over a century old. Hikes with his father into the mountains, reading books by candlelight next to his mother on harsh winter nights, and necessary lessons learned from both in a time when Denver was in its infancy.

It still dizzied Simon how thoughts so clear in his head were rare black and white snapshots in history books. Even more maddening was that there was no explanation for the 126 year hibernation, no facts to validate his story, no reasons for why the shift in time happened.

If it weren't for the years of life experience growing up in the late 1800's, Simon might have given credence to the therapists' assumption that he suffered from some sort of psychosis and simply created an 'old west' life in his head as some sort of defense mechanism.

Simon could still recall his parents' voices, his mother's east-coast dialect and his father's slight Norwegian accent, as they'd tell him stories. His ma, Eileen, kept to the more historical facts; how she was an infant when her parents left Ireland to make a better life in America; marrying Simon's father in 1850; venturing west two years later in the great wagon trains bound for California and the pacific northwest in search of gold.

His dad, Andre, usually explained things during chores as life lessons, sometimes giving graphic detail to stories that bothered Simon's ma to repeat. The trek from the east coast out into the Great Plains was filled with grief and sickness, and his dad gave vivid account of how cholera could quickly destroy a body, the results of children run over by wagon wheels, and violence on a daily basis.

While on the wagon trails, Simon's ma realized she was pregnant. The couple decided to stop in the township of Denver and wait to deliver. The baby was stillborn. Andre picked up various work while Eileen grieved the loss. They both agreed that the wagons that continued to roll west carried too much sickness and death, too many bad memories.

They settled in the burgeoning town where labor was always needed. Andre supported them with meat and skins from hunting, as well as working in corrals looking after livestock. Luck and prayers gave them prosperity and another pregnancy. Simon came into the rough world two days before Independence Day, 1855.

By the time Simon was old enough to be aware of things, the Pike's Peak gold rush was in full swing. His dad, who by then also had a hand in claim-jumping and some gold panning, tried to include his son in those vocations to teach the basics of each. Keeping so busy also helped his dad keep clear of civil war recruiters.

From a young age, Simon learned about the welfare of horses and cattle, simple techniques of hunting (he got the unsavory jobs of gutting and skinning), as well as going out into mountain passes with his dad to work rocker boxes in creek beds.

Simon was proud to be trusted enough to help keep his dad's secret - gold. Andre did well in gathering gold dust, nuggets, and the occasional gemstone, and stashed the majority in small burlap bags, hidden in a certain wooded location deeper into the mountains. He called it the 'Simon fund' and made sure his son committed the treasure's location to memory.

In 1864, a flood slammed through the Denver area, taking Andre Rike and twenty others with it. Both Simon and his ma were stunned with the loss, but she set her jaw and made sure Simon kept up with his schooling while she found work as a seamstress. He made a few coins as an errand boy and menial jobs in the stables to help make ends meet, reluctant to retrieve any of the hidden gold unless there were no other options.

In the winter of 1868, Eileen Rike contracted dropsy. By late summer of 1869, at the age of fourteen, Simon was an orphan. The local smith, Ed Cooper, took pity on the boy, giving him lodging and work as an apprentice. 'Coop' was gruff and worked Simon hard and long; he made sure he got his money's worth for taking the stray in, but kept him fed and dry. Working the metal came naturally to Simon, and prior livestock experience sped his farrier skills along.

Other than his parents, Simon felt uneasy in close confines with other folks for any length of time. So, taking all the knowledge from ol' Coop after years of service, he used a bit of his gold reserves to strike out on his own and open his own smithy in 1877. The city was in another rapid growth spurt from recent silver mining, and seemed to develop on a daily basis into a fine metropolis. Despite his sometimes curmudgeonly demeanor, Simon's business did well to keep up with Denver's expansion.

Socially, Simon didn't venture out much, only bending an elbow in the parlors of whorehouses before 'knocking off some steam'. He mostly kept to himself; while he might have sometimes yearned for a wife and family, he didn't have the skills to attract, or even approach, decent womenfolk. As a simple rationalization, he told himself that sooner or later everyone turned into an asshole anyway.

And then came the fateful day that changed Simon's life in ways that he still couldn't fathom, a cool morning in the spring of 1881. He decided to take another hike up into the mountains for the day, taking his guns and knife only as defense, and perhaps to take home some small game.

Unexpectedly, Simon suddenly felt very tired during his walk, so exhausted that he had to stop and rest. Falling asleep out in the mountains, and in thick woods no less, was foolish, but he couldn't help himself from drifting off. Wild dreams came to Simon; dancing with a beautiful but strange woman, exotic skies, frenetic sex.

When he woke, all gear but his revolver was missing, and that rusted lump of metal was beyond ruined. He holstered it anyway and began to make his way back to town.

Simon noticed the difference in the air quality first, just before he saw the asphalt road. He reached for his gun when the first car passed him as he walked along the shoulder. At a good viewpoint coming out of the foothills, he stood in awe at the modern city spread out before him.

As he slowly made his way through outer suburbs, someone must have called the police to report a cowboy walking down a residential lane with a big sidearm on his hip. After the second backup car arrived, the officers finally subdued the resistant man and took him off the streets.

The story Simon gave had insane written all over it, and he was transferred to the psychiatric ward. After initial medications wore off, he was slowly introduced to the modern world. Culture shock was putting it lightly, and at times he didn't take it well. Also, the fact that the staff and other patients either wanted nothing to do with him or were unreasonably confrontational, left Simon isolated and he had to learn many things on his own.

The silver lining of everyone's avoidance was that he got to spend many hours on the computer undisturbed every day. He first followed the programs that taught basic functions, and then on to the internet. The months in captive solitude as he studied this strange new culture let Simon dwell on the fact that everything he knew was gone; his horse, his accrued savings, his business, his life.

Finally, in October of 2007, after months of observation and counseling (where he actually received almost none of either), Simon had his competency hearing. Even though his court-appointed lawyer openly described Simon as completely without social merit, he did his mandatory duty to defend the case. Despite amnesia and delusional emotional trauma, time in extended therapy and under watch proved Simon Rike to be fully competent, if not eccentric and easily loathed (that was in the sealed transcripts as well).

He was released and grudgingly given temporary housing and food stamps. Simon was also supposed to be visited regularly by social workers, but they soon enough stopped checking on him in person, and mailed or emailed him information to answer his queries.

Six more months were spent in a shabby duplex while Simon tried to acclimate as fast as he could. The lack of social interaction slowed the process, but extensive time on the computer compensated for most of that failure.

Even though Simon eventually came to a basic understanding of how the new world worked with all of its amazing industry and technology, he still felt confused and alone in the alien environment. He had to learn all the rules on his own, with society blatantly against him for no apparent reason.

He once even went against the grain of his nature, attempting to start polite conversation in a local tavern. The ensuing brawl got him sued for damages.

Noting the amazing current worth of gold on the internet, Simon reluctantly ventured back into the mountains to retrieve the many bags of his father's gold. There was an apprehension he couldn't explain in walking through the formerly familiar canyons, valleys, and wooded glens, but Simon came out with the family treasure, and vowed never to return to those peaks and forests again.

He bought a house that suited his needs, albeit unfortunately on the west side of Denver, so close to the mountains he wanted to avoid. It was a smaller two-story home with a huge metal storage shed built next to it, all set back and away from distant neighbors. Simon converted the front of the house's main floor into a display room; the kitchen and dining area ran along the rear of the house, with a central staircase that led up to his bedroom and computer room. At daunting expense, the outbuilding was converted into a proper smithy.

In the five or so years that had since passed, Simon's business had barely kept afloat. His reserves had dwindled from exorbitant supply costs and lack of walk-in customers. He came to rely solely on internet advertising and sales, taking his hated presence out of the equation. Still, he was in a slow, steady decline.

On another sad note within that time, Simon had not made a single friend, not even anyone he could call an acquaintance, although he managed to get to know the local police through a long list of misdemeanors. They were quite aware of Mr. Rike; they couldn't stand him, but they got to know him well. On many occasions it was proven that Simon was not the instigator in a disturbance, but they were still reluctant to let him go.

Almost as bothersome to Simon was that after an arrest, whether he shared some blame or not, the court would send a social worker out to his home to follow up, considering his past. Luckily, they never stayed long enough to impede his work.

After the fiasco at the supermarket the day before, and then the routine down at the police station where they finally watched the security tapes and rancorously released Simon with yet another warning, he expected another official visit soon. Icing on the cake; another court-appointed fool asking questions with a sneer, but hopefully not spitting on his floor as they left. Their appearances and quick departures always left him more bitter than usual.

Simon tried to deny his depression, and had thus far done a good job of gritting his teeth in the face of all his adversities... even if he sometimes unclenched those teeth for a drink or ten. Still, the continuous pressures were wearing him down, and with his business on a slow downward slope, despondency was becoming an unwelcome houseguest.

***

Devlin Ryder came leisurely into the Verden reality from the Lore-bridge. His remarkable steed strolled casually onto the damp, wilting grass next to a small pond. There was an adjoining clearing of level ground covered with various heights of wild pasture, all enclosed by a thick lining of balding trees. The darkening sky was sullen and blustery, whipping his bright blonde hair out behind him like a pennant. Likewise, his steed's thick mane swayed like a field of golden wheat as its large hooves dug at the rich earth. Devlin thought that the little meadow would serve his needs for the time being.

Letting the steed free to graze, Devlin walked along the encompassing tree line and fogged it from mortal eyes and memory. He retrieved canvas and poles from the steed's bulky pack and propped his tent near the pond. It was a small, five-post affair, archaic in its design, black with yellow fringe and detail. The exterior covered no more than nine square yards, but the immense interior defied physics and logic.

One corner of the tent's interior was pillowed for relaxation or sleep. In another sat an ornate chair and table, stacked with writing quills, maps, and parchment. The remainder of the large space only held two chairs facing each other; the larger framed in gold with black padding, while the smaller was simple and wooden. It was a simple yet effective device to imply dominance, which he enjoyed.

As Devlin ducked back out through the tent flaps, his periphery caught movement out over his temporary claim. Two pixies circled lazily at a respectful distance over his unconcerned steed. Just as Devlin started toward them, they took notice of him and their flight became more chaotic. Thinking they might flee, he spoke as he continued to stride out into the small field. "As magistrate of the Circle, I command you to calm yourselves and remain."

The two small fae nervously circled once more, but then slowed to a jumpy, twitching hover next to each other, well out of his reach.

Devlin put a hand on his steed's withers and looked up at them. The two female pixies were identical in their multicolored shifts and dragonfly wings, except that one had light blonde hair and the other had chestnut. Devlin adapted a pleasant smile to placate the two. "A fine steed, is he not?"

The diminutive creatures circled and spun again once, their body language and movements indicating their nervous agreement.

Devlin glanced around at the small clearing, and then back up to them. "You visit this meadow often? It is one of your retreats?" The pixies fluttered in affirmative yet again, their actions a bit more timid. "Have no fear, I will not claim this for my own and deprive you of it. I will simply use this clearing for the Circle's business while I'm here. You are welcome to remain, for I have use of your knowledge. In serving me, you serve the Circle of Prudence, and they will smile upon you should you prove useful."

The two swirled excitedly, reassured of their safety. As the pixies flitted and danced in dizzying aerial commotion, they spoke in high, squeaky voices. "I am Neela, magistrate," one said. The other announced, "I am Moyna, sir. We obey the Circle."

Devlin could not tell which name belonged to which pixie from their frenzied movements as they introduced themselves, but it was of little importance. They were only simple creatures, and merely tools for his work. He gave a small bow as he continued looking up at them. "Well met, Neela and Moyna of the proud pixie heritage. I am Devlin Ryder." He patted his steed's rump. "Please, rest your wings before I call for your service."

As the two gently landed hand in hand on the back of the steed's strong black back, it flicked its long golden tail once in annoyance. Devlin took in the attractive features of the two miniature fae before continuing. "Neela, do you know of the fae who visit this area, or hold havens hereabout?"

The blonde pixie answered. "I do, magistrate. Many of many do I know of."

He smiled softly at her and then fixed his eyes on the darker-haired pixie. "And you, Moyna, do you know where these fae might usually be found, or where their havens are?"

"That I do, sir," Moyna piped in the same voice as her cohort. "Long and long have we come here, and see much."

Devlin smiled at her as well. He was satisfied that those two would serve well as messengers. "Very good, I am pleased. Now, do you know of a Drommen named Enochia? Enochia Eversight?"

"Yes, sir, I surely do," Moyna continued. "A respected elder is she, sir; wise and even in temper, sir."

He nodded at the dark-haired pixie and then asked the other, "Do you know where she is, Neela? I have questions for her."

The blonde pixie's wings fluttered. "Yes, magistrate, we know of her haven. Been there, we have, when the elder has need of us. We know the way. We can take you there. We can show you. Follow us, magistrate! We know where!" While still standing on the steed's rump, their wings began to buzz.

Devlin quickly put up a hand to calm them. "Ladies, please." He looked at each in turn. "Moyna, I would be pleased if you would remain and tell me what you know of the elder Enochia, and how you have served her in the past. Neela, I request of you to find Enochia and tell her that a magistrate on errand of the Circle, respectfully requests her presence here. It would be at her earliest convenience, but delay would be frowned upon. Can you do that, Neela?"

"Yes, magistrate, I can!" was the squeaky reply.

"Off you go, then, little one." The blonde pixie smiled and then shot away, soon out of sight.

Devlin had no desire to stand on the elder's ground to question her. Having her come to him would be a display of his authority, something he'd relish holding over a noted oracle. She would soon learn that whatever social status she held in these parts meant little when the power of the Lore called on her. He considered Enochia just a big fish in a small pond, and easily caught. "Come, Moyna. You may join me in my tent and tell me what you know."

Chapter 6

Later that Wednesday evening, Kate was selecting clothes from the closet to set out for the following day at work, and felt a surge of excitement. She had only two more days to suffer through, and then a world of unknown opportunities awaited her with Brody. The freedom and means to do as they pleased fed the young woman a heady invigoration, and she could more easily understand her man's bright nimbus.

Brody's colors still seemed brighter than anyone else's that Kate had come across, more radiant, but she attributed that to her adoring bias. That he strove to use that freedom and means to do well by others only endeared him more to her.

Brody was on the other side of their bedroom, looking out the window into the windy night. Already dressed down for bed, he took a seat in the corner chair and stroked Honey's ears. He looked up and watched Kate's curvaceous hips sway while she selected clothes, and took a moment for lusty appreciation before speaking. "Hey darlin', I've got a couple other little ideas in my head. I've done some research on my own but these ideas involve you too."

She continued to gather a matching ensemble. "Sure; what has that busy little mind of yours dreamt up this time?"

He smiled at her lilted reply. "First off, I was thinkin' we might get some animals... Farm animals, I mean. I'm kinda tired of looking at overgrown fields."

Kate turned to him, holding a blouse in front of her. "Really?" she asked with evident excitement.

Brody kept petting Honey, but met Kate's big eyes. "Well, I don't want to buy a brush hog for it, and I'd rather not pay anyone to come take care of it all the time. I figured maybe getting a few sheep." He looked back down before finishing the thought, expecting a greater response from Kate with his finishing statement. "And even a donkey or two."

In higher pitch, Kate said, "Brody, honestly? You know I love donkeys!" She hurried around to sit on the bed, near to him, still absently clutching a top. "You said you've looked into it?"

"Some, yeah, but I'll want to know more before we get anything."

"Then you should talk to my da; he knows about farm animals. He was raised with all sorts."

Brody nodded and smiled. "Great, I'll add him to my list of calls to make tomorrow when he gets off work." As Kate stood and returned to her chore, Brody clarified, "Now, we're not going to have a big herd or anything; just enough critters to keep the paddocks knocked down."

With her back to him, Kate said, "Brody Lynch: shepherd. It has a nice ring to it."

"Keep it up. You'll be out there tending to the flock with me, ya know."

She turned her head to flash him a smile. "Sounds grand, love."

"I hoped it would."

Kate turned, laying out her selections on the bed, setting the clothes aside before she hung them on the door hook. "So you'll be on the phone a fair bit tomorrow?"

Brody got up and pulled his side of the bed covers back. "Yeah, some; Fiona's cousin Amy left a message, saying she had some weird results from the search of my family line. Then I'm lining up a contractor for the properties I'm buying up. Oh, and I expect a call from Father Doyle sometime soon for that labor detail, probably tomorrow. Then I have a bit of running around to do."

"Oh? Can it wait for me to come along?"

Brody slid his legs under the covers. "As a matter of fact, no, it can't." Kate looked to him, confused, and noticed his raised eyebrows and quirked lips. He explained, "I have some Christmas shopping to do, and I'd like it to be a surprise."

"Love, you don't have to get me anything. I'm quite content as it is."

Brody leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "That's good to hear. Especially since I never said the gifts were for you."

Kate threw him a facetious sneer. "Fine, be that way." She turned off the overhead light, leaving only a small bedside lamp for illumination.

As she came to join him in bed, Brody said, "Oh, hey, there was one more thing."

He pulled the covers back as she settled in, curling next to him. Kate snuggled in with her head on his broad chest. "Go on."

Brody draped a powerful arm around her. "I'm not sure how ethical this is, what I'm going to ask."

Kate glanced up at him with a grin. "Once you ask, I'll let you know."

He smirked back as she rested her head again. "When I was looking at properties, I thought some of them might be for sale because some folks fell behind. I don't want to buy those. Now, technically, I could go through public records to find out who's selling because they got into debt, but I don't know who those people are. I was thinking, since you know most of your customers to some degree, you could tell me if a particular person or family is the decent sort."

Kate thought a moment. "And then you'd... what? Pay off their debt?"

"Well, like I said, if they're good people in a tough spot. And I'd only help with those whose debts are, uh, reasonable."

Kate rose back up to look at him. "Brody, that's quite generous, but how 'reasonable' are you willing to be? Some folks have ramped up some bricking numbers."

"Could you make up a list of people - good, worthy folks, in your opinion - and their amounts of debt? I want to help as many as I can without going overboard. Is that something you could ethically do?"

"Since you could get most of that on your own, and you're only asking me about who they are... I suppose I could do that. But..." Kate hesitated. "It feels like I'm passing judgment."

Brody rubbed her shoulder. "Yeah, it kinda does, but I'm just trying to help people that would be missed if they had to move. We can't help everyone, darlin'."

Kate snuggled back against him and nodded. "I suppose so. Assisting some is better than none at all."

He slid down from his reclined position and turned off the lamp before they pressed together. Hoping to raise Kate's mood again, Brody said, "I plan on going to Sligo town early Monday morning. Care to join me?"

She laid an arm over his firm torso. "I believe I'll have Mondays available from now on, so, sure. Is it business or pleasure?"

Brody smiled as he closed his eyes. "From now on, I hope they're the same thing."

***

Gideon listened with only passing interest when Jane again commented on the recent event of her mam's rough abduction by a trio of men and taken to Kate's boyfriends' house. Jane was even more enamored of the big American when told the story by her sister, and shocked to hear of such violence in their quiet lives. On her and the family's visit out to Mr. Lynch's cottage not long ago, she had trouble imagining bad things happening in such a serene place.

Jane sat at her desk with a notebook of lyrics, and turned to her magical friend. "I don't even know much about where Brody came from. Kate told me he'll be taking her there in the spring. That sounds like such fun. I'd like to visit the states sometime."

Gideon sat on a huge pile of pillows, taking big bites of biscuits dripping with honey. "Grand journey, the Americas," he said around chewing. "I hear of grand things to see, but you must watch your step there, so I hear. Thirty-foot snakes in the south that circle and crush you, and giant bears in the north that'll swallow you whole. Space aliens land in the east, which is why all the folk carry bombs and muskets. And to the west, the land is alive, waiting to crack open and devour all it can, I tell ye true."

Jane laughed. "That must be why so many go there; a grand journey, indeed. So, you've never gone on holiday to the states, Gideon?"

He cleared his throat with a sip of water before answering. "Only to the Canada area, lil' Jane, and to there not long, I tell ye. The mountain wolves turned into ugly people with grand furs and back again, full of spite and a hunger greater than mine. They ran me to the plains, they did. Then came to me a great moose, the king of his kind, and huge for it. He spoke in more languages than I could count, 'til he came upon the old tongue, and I found his words. I tell ye true, he said for me to get back home, for my warm heart might melt the ice and snow of his land, and then what would they do?"

Gideon paused to drip honey on another biscuit, then resumed his tale. "So I went to the cold shore, I did, and there met by seals. Two of them changed into maidens, and one bid me come into the water and frolic. The other, though, she asked that I stay so my heroic heart might shine on the others, and make them brave the deep for better fish. Heart torn, I stood there sad on the shore until a whale came and took pity on me. It brought me back to this land, letting me ride on its back all the way. A strange land, so says I."

Jane grinned and shook her head. "Then I surely want to go and meet the moose king!" She giggled again, and then asked, "Tell me, Gideon... if you're not from over the Atlantic, and you're not from here, then where did you come from?"

Gideon licked his fingers, set down the empty plate, and wiggled into the comfort of the cushions. "I come from a land of giants, and was one me self upon a time."

Jane couldn't help but smirk. "Is that a fact?"

"I tell ye true, lil' Jane. I was a warrior, I was, and great among my own. But little did I know that I kept stealing the hearts of the womenfolk, and made the others sore and jealous. Then a princess came to a field of a mighty battle where I had bested foes left and right, I did. The fair noble fell enamored as others had before."

"How could she not, sure," Jane interjected, smiling.

"Aye, true, but her lord would not allow such a thing. So he told the others to do away with me, and they tried and tried. At a loss to dispatch me, they all come upon me at once and squashed me down to this size. The big lord, in fear that I might grow back, gave a mighty swing of his armored boot and sent me to flyin', I tell ya. I bounced once in Scotland, creatin' the Ullapool crater with it, and finally came to rest here. This land, bein' so small... Well, it wouldn't be fair, me bein' a giant among ye. So I stay small to put all at ease, only keepin' me big heart as proof, I tell ye true."

"And an appetite to match, don't forget that."

Gideon smiled in spite of himself. "I have an appetite for life, lil' Jane. Food just happens to be one of the best parts of it. Now, to me defense, I know of some trolls that can eat five times their own weight in one sitting, and still charge off to battle."

Jane's eyebrows rose. "Trolls? You keep company with big, ugly beasts, Gideon? My, you are brave."

The little morpher slowly shook his head as he picked crumbs from his coat. "Ye speak of ogres - dim and mean-spirited beasts are they. Trolls are about the opposite; still large, mostly, but full of virtue and honor. Oath-keepers to their last drop of life, I tell ya."

Jane frowned while she absently studied a teddy bear. "So are trolls another kind of fair folk, like you said you are?"

Gideon, knowing his words wouldn't pass beyond the door, answered without reservation. "There'll be many types of us Other Crowd, or Ancient Ones, if ye care for those names. Trolls be one, and sprites and dryads and the Fair - or elves, by a simpler term - them and a few others, to boot. We be of the high races. Those other, like ogres, gnomes, and pixies... they be of low caste. They be, well, simpler; not altogether bright, limited in skills, I'd say."

Jane's frown grew even deeper. "It all sounds so complicated." She looked over to him. "What about leprechauns? Is that what you are?"

He smiled. "No, no, lil' Jane, I'm no happy trickster. Aye, there be leprechauns, but keep to their own affairs, they do. Their cousins, though, the redcaps..." Gideon shuddered. "A gruesome folk, they be. I refrain from telling any of their tales, lest they poison your dreams."

Jane pondered a thought as she fluffed the bear's fur. "Well, I wouldn't mind catching a little green faery for his gold."

"Nay, dear Jane, be treading lightly when dealing with the Other Crowd. There's always a price to be paid for such. We be a near-timeless folk, and games to be played can turn wicked for lack of other entertainments."

She looked back to him with laughter in her eyes. "But you're one of the Other Crowd, Gideon. Is there some price I'll have to pay for your friendship?"

He returned her mirth, saying, "Bring me a large shepherd's pie and a pint of rum, and I'll forget your debt... for now."

Chapter 7

Late in the night, Enochia sat down in her chair in front of the alabaster table. She had just conversed with the sprite Neela and sent her back to the magistrate with a reply. The oracle had agreed to visit on the following evening at the given location.

The envoy of the Circle was sent more than likely because of the events that surrounded the little redcap's recent 'game'. Lorcan had indeed garnered some attention from it, but wouldn't be able to reap any benefits while still under Enochia's control.

This new situation would again involve the mortal Lynch, and possibly center on him yet again. It was unfortunately expected that in adjusting the man's past, future events would sometimes be random and unforeseen. After a few minutes of mental debate, Enochia decided to once again look in on that particular man, but hoped to simply glean information about his barriers that resisted such intrusion.

Multiple long blue fingers traced patterns into the table's grooves simultaneously, fighting against the fae-borne obstacles that guarded against deep insights. Enochia was able to penetrate certain aspects, but was only interested in the barriers themselves, getting a sense of their nature and given potentials. The procedure was new for the oracle; graced humans were quite rare, and studying the basis of that offered grace proved to be very taxing.

Enochia pulled her tired fingers away and exhaled a deep breath as the table's glow dimmed. She came away from the exhaustive search with two definitive answers. The grace was given by a troll, and definitely an elder of that noble race. Also was Enochia's strong assumption that the mortal was unaware of his gifts, and had barely begun to rouse them. Perhaps a wake-up call was in order, at the least for Lynch's own benefit.

With the black sheet settled over the table, Enochia mentally called for the vile little fae temporarily under her command. Less than ten seconds later, Lorcan suddenly appeared in the corner of the dim room, both legs and arms crossed as he hovered in the air. Enochia once again took in his long, wavy carrot-colored hair under a shabby, maroon porkpie hat, his overly wide mouth set in a sneer, his stained overalls and oversized muck-boots.

The seer shook her head with the sad knowledge that he, while talented, was otherwise pathetic, especially in the role of her emissary. Fortunately, Lorcan was a perfect choice for what Enochia next had in mind. She put her hands in her lap and addressed him. "Thank you for being so prompt."

Lorcan kept his sneer, and his squinting black eyes twinkled with impotent malice. "I only hurried to do your bidding and escape your curse of serfdom. The sooner I complete your loathsome tasks, the sooner I'll be free of you."

Enochia offered a soft smile. "I'm glad to see such enthusiasm. Should you please me with your efforts, then the second of your four tasks will come along quickly."

"Thank the elements for that," he snarled.

"But your first is yet to come, although I think you will come through with great success."

Lorcan huffed as he drifted closer. "Stop with your simpering banter and just tell me what you want."

Enochia took a moment to sift through his foul little mind, found the knowledge she sought and temporarily fogged it. Lorcan suddenly forgot how to make his body levitate, and immediately dropped to the ground. The impact of plunging five feet hard onto his backside forced out a grunt. He sat on the dusty floor for a few seconds in order to swallow the rage from his humiliation. He then stood with clenched fists and stared at her. Through gritted teeth, he asked, "The task?"

Enochia smiled sweetly. "Now that I have your respect again, we shall continue. Your first duty is simply to go have a conversation with Mr. Brody Lynch."

Temporarily forgetting his embarrassment, Lorcan smirked. "I doubt that one will want to converse much with me. My mere presence will provoke him."

She nodded. "So be it."

Lorcan tilted his head in confusion. "Not that it bothers me in the least, but you won't take exception that I will most likely anger him?"

"No, but have a care. Lynch may attack in his hatred for you... Not that I blame him."

Folding his arms, Lorcan sneered derisively. "We have little to fear from mortals, in case you've forgotten while sitting in this hovel for so long. They are frail and weak compared to fae on the whole. Lynch is large, but I'm not concerned."

Enochia slightly nodded her head, as if in reluctant agreement. "I simply do not wish for you to underestimate that one. It may cause your failure of what I want accomplished... and your failure would displease me."

Lorcan shrugged off her threat. "I'm not worried; he's no warrior."

She leaned forward to better see him past the table. "Oh, yes he is. He is simply reluctant. As the old mortal adage goes, 'beware the fury of a patient man'. But... trust your own judgment, Lorcan."

The little fae rolled his eyes. "When shall I drop in on him? And what might the topic of our chat be?"

Enochia reclined into her chair. "I will inform you of that when the time comes, and it will be soon enough. Be ready when next I call."

"Fine; may I go now?"

Enochia waved a small hand in dismissal and he instantaneously vanished. She was counting on the redcap's provoking nature and overconfidence in seeing to the upcoming task. His reactions left her with little doubt that she would not be disappointed.

***

On a sprinkling, cool Thursday morning, Kate parked her rattling old car and started her day at the bank. She sat at her desk arranging files and smiled at Mary, who was passing by to unlock the doors for another day's business. The only downside to leaving the job was that Kate was going to miss the white-haired, spicy auld gal. Her thoughts were interrupted when Mary backtracked and came to stand next to the desk of the seated young woman.

Kate looked up expectantly. "Good morning, Mary."

The older woman folded her hands in front of her. "And you as well, Kate. I wanted to let you know that I and the others - excludin' that stiff eejit Aiden McNally - will be at a small loss without your lovely face about."

Kate smiled in deep appreciation. "Thank you, Mary. That means so much to hear. I was just thinking that I'll miss you as well."

"You always were the sweet one, dear." With a moment's pause, Mary continued. "Joan, Emily and I were hoping you had no plans for lunch. We'd like to take you out for a nice, quick meal."

"That sounds grand, thank you! But you realize that my last day is tomorrow, not today."

Mary leaned forward to pat Kate's hand. "Of course, dear, but considering just that, we assumed that tomorrow you'd basically be a dossing pile of shite, and rat-arsed to boot. I know I would be, dear."

Kate laughed out loud. Mary joined her with a silent giggle and then turned to open the doors. Kate quickly said, "Mary, we'll still keep in touch, won't we? Pass Christmas gifts, and visit now and then?"

The older woman turned back with a melancholy smile. "I'd hope so, Kate. I'd hate to have to hunt you down. I don't have the energy I used to."

Glancing first at the clock and then back to Mary, Kate gestured to the chair across from her. The aging teller looked at the clock as well and then slowly sat. "Was there something else, dear?"

Kate frowned. "Speaking of Christmas, I had a quick question for you. Last night Brody mentioned gift-shopping, and I realized that I have no idea what to get him. I'd like your opinions."

Mary rested her elbows and folded hands on the desk. "You'd know better than anyone what to get him, at least around here. Does he have kin you could ask?"

With pursed lips, Kate shook her head. "No; no siblings, his parents have passed, and there's no extended kin that he's in touch with."

"How sad, the poor man."

"When he moved here," Kate went on, "Brody supplied himself with everything he wanted, so I'm at a loss for ideas. If it were you shopping for him, what would you get?"

"You mean if I were in your place, what would I get for my big strappin' fella?"

Kate smiled. "Alright, yes - what would it be?"

Mary answered with a straight face. "Manacles, to be sure."

Kate frowned. "Handcuffs, Mary?"

"Yes, indeed," the older woman explained. "With a man his size, I'd doubt that ropes would keep him secured to the bed for long."

***

Brody started his Thursday with normal routine; a quick work-out, a stroll with the dogs out on his property, and a review of the busy day ahead. Travel plans and locations were marked and mapped, with notes for each. He thought that some might find it tedious, but Brody was exhilarated with the freedom to follow his whims and yearnings. Emails were checked and a few calls were made before he ventured out.

As Brody made the short, familiar drive into Ballaghadaere, he thought of his arrangements and how they'd make for a potentially busy Saturday. If he could get some wisdom and assistance from Liam and the animal rescue where he'd found his dogs, some farm animals would be obtained. Also was the meeting with Keenan Moore from the McMillan Construction company for arrangements to update Brody's new property acquisitions. Lastly was reserving some time in case Father Doyle needed extra hands to unload a delivery that Brody had planned for.

While the estate agent had sent the promised emails that gave updates on available properties, Brody felt the need, as in most of his business affairs, to conduct business in person. After a short meeting, he signed deeds for seven more properties, and had their information sent to Father Doyle to extend the need for the newly-formed labor detail. Because of the intermittent rain, Brody drove rather than walked to his other necessary stops within the village. His last stop before the long drive to Sligo town was the bank.

Brody waved to a busy Kate as he went to a teller's window to request a meeting with the bank manager. Kate gave her fella a smile as he was invited into Mr. McNally's office. Brody came back out twenty minutes later, at a time when Kate didn't have a customer to deal with. He strolled up, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, set a small, rectangular box in front of her, and then apologized as he hurried off.

Kate noticed it was a jewelry case and flipped it open. A note sat loosely on top of other items. She removed the note and saw a bank card with her and Brody's name on it; a joint account. Under that was a shiny, slender watch of modern design. After putting on the watch and the card in her purse, Kate read the note.

Item one: I was tired of you going through my clothes looking for loose change. There should be enough in this new account for whatever you need. Item two: congrats on your upcoming freedom, although in hindsight, this is about the last thing you'll need. Love, Brody.

Brody received a call of excited thanks only a few minutes down the road. The rest of the long drive to the north was scenic and relaxing. Finally in sight of Sligo town, Brody pulled over to study the map he marked with specific businesses to be visited. Many stops were made; some to make deals and place delivery orders (to be sent to Father Doyle, with his permission), while others were to make in-store purchases.

At a large toy and sporting store, Brody found a few more things to buy, and then ordered a literal truckload of other selected items to be shipped to the church in Ballaghadaere on Saturday. The sales staff in the women's boutique was helpful as well in helping Brody make his many choices. In all, he'd spent hours in the larger town, and his wagon was full of shopping bags.

After the car was unloaded and the dogs greeted, Brody sat out on the patio to make his other calls. He and Liam shared a light, jovial conversation, and the older gent agreed to travel with Brody on Saturday morning to inspect some of the herd that a farmer was selling. The last call to make on his list was to Amy O'Sullivan, who'd left an intriguing message the day before. She answered and gave more explanation.

Brody's vein of the Lynch line had very few branches, and those were from many generations back. There was a continued happenstance of single-child families leading up to him, which was easy for her to follow. However, back in the mid 1800's, a surname of Rike was introduced into the Lynch history by marriage. They had settled in what became Denver, Colorado. Amy searched that city's archives to follow that vein, but it stopped with the last of the Rike line, an only child named Simon, who had disappeared around 1880 or so.

There were only a handful of Rike's currently in the Denver area, and most had different lineage. Strangely enough, her last call to make was to a Rike with the first name of Simon. Amy inferred to Brody that the man who answered sounded quite inebriated. She explained the reason for her call to Simon and politely inquired about his mother's name and birth date. Mr. Rike slurred and was a bit incoherent, but she was sure that the man said his mother's name was Eileen, born in 1831, before he hung up on her.

There was an Eileen Lynch, of Brody's vein, born near Ennis, Ireland in 1831, who married Andre Rike in New York in 1850. Amy hadn't tried to contact the drunken man since. Other than public arrest records, Mr. Rike's files were sealed, so she came to a dead end with him as well.

As confused as Amy was, Brody thanked her for being so thorough. He then requested that she email all of her findings along with her bill for services before disconnecting. Something about the strange, implausible circumstances itched at Brody, enough to make a call himself. The worst-case scenario was that he'd get more of a drunken madman's rambling, and he could let it rest. Brody waited until Amy's email arrived, found the number in her concise notes, and dialed.

Chapter 8

The breeze from the foothills and the slopes beyond were warmer that sunny morning, so Simon left the large workshop doors open. The heat from the forge quickly nullified the chilly interior air that normally accumulated overnight. He made another condensing fold and hammered it flat for future use of the scrap metal he'd won from an online auction.

As he stepped back to toss the forged piece aside, Simon heard the bell ring. He'd set a large brass bell of his own making on a post between the house and shop for any potential customers to ring, back when the smithy originally opened.

He didn't expect the visitor to be a potential patron that morning, and he was correct. She was a younger brunette in slacks and a long wool coat, with a business case in her hand. He hadn't seen this one before, and assumed she drew the short straw. Simon murmured to himself, "Shit, let's get this over with."

As soon as Simon walked through the open doors of his shop and toward his house, the young woman began her introduction. "Good morning, Mr. Rike. I'm Amanda Nash, and I'm with..." When he got within about ten feet of her, the young professional's face soured, as if she suddenly felt a cockroach crawling around in her mouth.

Simon paused in front of her, his eyes blatantly looking the slim woman over. "Unless you're a whore doing door-to-door charity work, I'm not interested." He then resumed his course to the house without a backwards glance.

Miss Nash, stunned at her own sudden utter contempt for the man, quickly gathered her resolve to update the file as quickly as possible before escaping the horrible Mr. Rike. She began again as she hurried to follow him into the public 'showroom' of his house. "Sir, I'm with the Denver legal depar - " Amanda had to stop short when the man suddenly stopped and turned in the doorway, making her much closer to him than she wanted to be.

With a low, menacing tone, Simon said, "I know who you're with and why you're here, Miss Nash." He shoved the door open wider in reluctant invitation, and then turned around to walk through his showroom. She caught the door on its slow return and tentatively followed him inside.

As the foul man walked through his own display area and through western-style swinging doors into the private rear of the house, Amanda stopped in dawning wonder. She was surrounded by a room packed full of iron-forged miscellanea and art, everything hand-crafted, all separated and arranged.

There were a variety of digging and lawn tools; a large selection of knives, blades, and axes - even a few swords hanging on the wall; pots, pans, utensils and dinnerware sets, all with impressive scrolled detail; trade tools for a variety of manual vocations; surreal and abstract wall art, all with intricate tooling; even a large glass case displaying a wide selection of eye-catching jewelry.

Amanda was confused at how such impressive craft could be made by such a despicable person.

Simon walked into the back of the house and turned right into the kitchen area. While he searched his refrigerator for a bottle of juice, he saw the social worker hesitantly push through the swinging doors. She turned left to his small dining table, rested her case on it, and pulled out a file. He frowned at her back and said, "You can sit if you want."

Miss Nash gave a fleeting glance over her shoulder as she found her inquiry sheet. "I don't want to be here, and I certainly don't want to sit. God knows what else has been on these chairs. I feel ill just talking to you, Mr. Rike, so I'll be as quick as I can."

While he uncapped a bottle of apple juice, Simon offered his best false smile. "I sure am sorry I offend you, ma'am. I know I'm just some mudsill to you, but if you'd pull in your horns I'll be as pleasant as a peach. Or, you could get the fuck out of my house, if ya please."

With a thick file in one hand and a pen in the other, she turned sideways to him. "I only wish that I could, but I have a job to do, Mr. Rike, so let's get it over with."

Simon leaned against the wall, next to his back door, still sporting a grin. "Of course, ma'am, I get it. Would you like to wet your whistle? Coffee? Beer? Horse piss?"

Amanda glared over her shoulder at the tall, lean, fair-haired man who still wore a leather apron over his denim clothes, and was also giving her a leering grin. "Mr. Rike, I have to ask... Did you make all of those second-rate metal supplies yourself, or did you just find them at the city dump?"

His smile disappeared immediately, replaced with a tight scowl. Simon was used to verbal venom of a personal nature, but he took pride in his work and wouldn't hear of it being slandered. "You best hobble your lip about my wares or you'll find yourself on your backside, out on the other side of this door, wonderin' what the hell happened. Now get on with it or git. I got work to do."

Before the young social worker could reply, the wall phone next to him rang. Still sharing a stare with the woman, Simon answered with his free hand. "Rike smithy."

A man's baritone voice was on the other end. "Hello, this is Brody Lynch. I was hoping to speak to a Mr. Simon Rike?"

Simon watched as the social worker broke eye contact and began making notes to the sheet on top of the file she held. "You got him; how can I help ya?"

There was a moment of silence before the caller said, "Well, I'm not sure how to go about this, Mr. Rike, but I was looking to see if you and I are related."

"Beg pardon?"

"Yeah, I know it's a little out of the blue. Sorry about that. But I had one of those lineage searches done. Do you know what I mean?"

Something felt different to Simon. It wasn't anything could see or hear; nothing he could put his finger on, but he felt... lighter, somehow. He glanced around, but nothing seemed altered or out of place. And yet, it did in no way that he could explain. It was as if the world just took a tiny step to the right, and something in him felt it.

"Su - uh, sorry," Simon stuttered, confused. "What'd you say your name was? Lynch?"

"Yeah - Lynch. Brody Lynch. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

Simon was about to answer when Miss Nash turned to him with a pleasant, inquisitive expression, silently asking him with a gesture if she could have a seat. He nodded to her dumbly, and said into the phone, "Mr. Lynch, could you hold on a minute?" Without waiting for a reply, Simon held the phone to his chest.

The social worker was being polite, and the guy on the line sounded nice enough. There was normally a delayed reaction for folks on the phone to become angry with Simon for no reason; it was a tested fact... until then.

With a quiet tone, he said to the social worker, "Miss, I really need to take this call."

She looked up at him from her paperwork, stood, and with a simple smile, whispered back, "I'll just go look at your items. There are some really nice pieces out there. Take your time."

Simon was unable to make his slack jaw work to reply, and could only watch her walk back through the swinging doors. He gave his head a small shake before putting the phone back to his ear. "Uh, Mr. Lynch... Are you still with me?"

"Yeah, sure am. I think I might have called you at a bad time. I'll just call back later, if that's alright."

"No!" Simon said loudly into the phone. With a calmer voice, he resumed. "No, now is fine. Now what were you sayin' about lineage?"

"I had one of those genealogy charts done, ya know? I have an acquaintance that did it for me, and she has your name down with a question mark next to it. She said she called you a few days back. Do you remember a woman with an accent named Amy call you?"

"An accent? Amy, you said?"

"Yeah, an Irish accent."

Simon grinned. "No, I'd remember an Irish accent. A lady with an accent flips my lid, if you catch my meanin'. But if it was early Monday she called, then I don't recall. I really don't recall last Monday morning in the first place. A few slugs of bark juice will do that on a Sunday night." Simon was almost giddy. He was having an actual, pleasant conversation with someone. He could honestly say that he hadn't had a nice chat in over 130 years, and didn't want this one to end.

There was light laughter on the other end of the line. "Yeah, I've been there once or twice myself." There was a slight pause. "Now, um, Mr. Rike, my friend Amy asked about your parents and you gave her a pretty weird answer. I get it if you don't want people prying into your business. I was just looking to see if I had any family out there. If you're not interested in helping me out, I understand, and I won't bother you again."

Simon quickly became scared, confused, almost in a panic. Something about this phone call put him at ease, like everything was going to be alright again. Maybe it was just wild coincidence, but as soon as he started talking to that Lynch fella, Simon felt... better. But now the guy wanted to know if they were kin, which meant telling his unbelievable story. Lynch might just hang up on him, and then the light feeling might go away. 'Screw it', he thought; he couldn't stay on the phone forever.

"Mr. Rike? Simon?"

"Yeah, I'm still here. I just don't think you will be, once I tell you."

"Uh, tell me what? Look, I figure you know your family tree pretty well. I mean, you mentioned to my friend about an ancestor of yours named Eileen Lynch. Well, I think that Eileen Lynch was the sister to one of my great-grandfathers. So, if you're related to her, then I guess we're related, but like very distant cousins."

Simon walked over to the dining table with the cordless phone and apple juice, and wished he had a quirley handy. "Not as distant as you think, Mr. Lynch."

"Hey, if we're related, then just call me Brody if you like. So, are you saying that Eileen Lynch is in your family tree? She married a guy named... um, Andre Rike. Do we have the same information?"

With a sigh of resignation, Simon said, "Since I'm pretty sure we're kin, I'm going to tell you a quick story that you will honestly not believe, Brody. No one else has."

"Is that right? Try me. I've seen some pretty wild shit, so I'm very open-minded at this point."

With a deep breath, Simon began giving the facts of his origins. He stood and looked out to the mountains behind his house as he gave dates, locations, and a few specifics. Describing how he grew up in a time during and after the civil war, Simon tried to add details to give his story some sort of validity. His attempt to give credibility to the wild tale was most likely in vain, but he hadn't had anyone to talk to about it - or anything, for that matter - for years.

In simply talking to the man on the phone, albeit with a crazy story as the topic, Simon felt the warmth of human interaction. It was sharp contrast to the last number of years, with his life being a hollow and desolate shell, surrounded by bitterness and hate.

Simon hurriedly went on with his story before Mr. Lynch either hung up or begged off the phone. He told about his nap in the mountains, and the ensuing nightmare that his life became, waking up in the modern world. While Simon gave mention of it taking nearly a year before he had even a basic understanding of how things worked, he chose to omit everyone's new reaction to him. He figured Lynch had heard enough of his bullshit and saw no need to add icing to the cake.

Pausing for a breath, Simon heard the creak of his saloon doors and turned to see the young social worker standing there with a serene, expectant look. He hurriedly said into the phone, "Just a sec" before pressing it to his chest again. "Uh, my apologies, Miss Nash; I won't be but another couple minutes. Sorry to keep ya."

With a nod of her head, she quietly replied, "I'm afraid I do have somewhat of a schedule to keep, Mr. Rike. I won't take much of your time this morning, I promise."

"Yes, ma'am, I understand. Just let me wrap this call up." Simon offered a small smile to her patient nod, and waited until she meandered back out into the showroom before getting back to Lynch. "Sorry 'bout that."

"That's alright."

"So anyway, that's about it. Your ancestor Eileen Lynch was my ma. You can go ahead and call me a crackpot before you hang up. It won't hurt my feelins none."

Brody gave a short, pleasant chuckle. "No, Simon, I won't do that... but you gotta admit it's a lot to swallow. And you said you couldn't find any other cases like yours?"

"Nope, but I figure, who'd want to let a tale like that fly? Their whole damned life would come a cropper lickedy-split."

"Say again?"

Simon grinned; the old talk still came out now and then. "I mean that their life would go to shit, and quick. They'd... I'd lose credibility. Can't make a decent livin' when folks think your head is a bag full of squirrels."

"No, I guess not. Hey, Simon, I really do need to get going here, but I'd like to give you another call sometime soon, okay?"

Nodding his head in resignation, Simon replied, "Don't worry about it. I understand."

There was a slight pause before Brody said, "No, Simon, I'm not blowing you off. And I don't think you're a crackpot. Look, you can even call my number back, okay? Just keep the time difference in mind. I'm seven hours ahead of you, I think."

"Seven hours? Where the hell are you callin' from?"

"Ireland; I live here now. I was born in Kansas City, but I just moved out here."

Simon's eyes widened. "Damn, this call must be costing you a fortune. Now I feel like a shit-heel for keepin' you so long."

Brody gave another chuckle. "Don't worry about it, really. I'm the one who called you, remember? Now, just check your caller I.D. and feel free to call me back to make sure I'm not scraping you off. I give you my word I'm not. Hell, I'll even give you another call in a little while, if that's alright. You can call back first, just to be sure, or you can wait until I do, but I keep my word when I give it. It's however you wanna handle it, okay?"

Simon felt the honesty in those words, and it relieved him more than he could say. "I appreciate that. I do, honest. I'll give a holler back in a short while, fair enough?"

"Sounds like a plan. I'll talk to you soon... cousin."

Hanging up the phone, Simon felt the smile on his face. He couldn't remember the last time he had reason for one.

Chapter 9

Delicate, sun-kissed fingers played along the seemingly tender bark of the white birch trees that grew on the south side of the small highland lake, the colors of autumn remaining only by a whim. Saraid casually strolled through the slender trees with their last fiery-leafed efforts before they succumbed to winter's grasp.

She lightly ducked under the welcoming shade of a brown-vined weeping willow, and looked through the hanging branches as the setting sun turned the wispy clouds various vibrant hues in the dimming sky. That haven in northern Scotland was always most beautiful when in its colorful annual decline, and Saraid visited the secluded pocket often.

Her sun-kissed bare feet came to a halt on the mossy ground as Saraid looked off inquisitively. There was a gentle alteration to the ether; one of her many glamours had vanished. She searched within herself to find the origin, the source of a near-tangible aspect of her own making.

'Ah, a curse has been lifted', she thought while resting against the trunk of the willow. Saraid sat still while she inwardly sought the source, and soon found it. It was Simon, her angry lover from long ago. He'd found kin; his nearest descendant, and so quickly. She'd thought his torment would have lasted longer, as it should have.

Saraid remembered balancing Simon's punishment with his deepest wish, should he somehow free himself of mankind's ire. Remotely inspecting that emotional craving, she found the mortal's wish and smiled. 'To be believed, Simon?' she thought. 'To be accepted, to find friendship? That was your desire? Oh, Simon, you simple fool'. Saraid shrugged as she reclined against the tree in the gathering dark; if that was all his limited imagination allowed, then so be it.

Then she wondered how it came to be that her sentence for him was cut short. She absently stroked tanned fingers through her striated green and white hair, making a mental note to pay Simon a visit soon to see who negated her righteous curse.

***

Under the awakening stars in a royal blue twilight sky, Enochia stepped into the clearing temporarily held by the magistrate. The closest fae-bridge she could access was just over a mile down the road, but she found the walk and brisk air refreshing. The currents were still, the earth damp and fragrant, and the only movement in the clearing was of a fae-steed cropping wild grasses.

Enochia stepped over to the black tent, saw no way to announce her presence, and so decided to simply enter. She thought whoever the Circle had appointed was lacking in protocol and preparation.

Devlin looked up from his notes at the writing desk, mildly surprised, but quickly flashed a winning smile. "Greetings, elder, thank you for coming."

Revealing a shock of blue hair when she pulled her hood back, the oracle said, "Forgive my abrupt entry, but I saw no attendant to state my arrival. I hope you don't mind."

The slender Fair fae grimaced lightheartedly. "Of course not, elder; the Circle did not adequately describe the duties I'd need to perform here. So, unfortunately, I don't have all the tools of proper etiquette at my disposal." He rose and strolled toward her, and gestured to the lesser of the mismatched chairs. "Would you care to have a seat?"

Enochia looked down at the simple chair with an amused grin. She turned to him with the same expression. "Why don't we talk at your table? I'm sure you'll want to refer to your notes, and I spend so much time seated that standing is a welcome change. I'm sure our chat won't take long, and I wouldn't want to take any more of your valuable time than is necessary."

Devlin faltered and frowned. "Oh... very well; thank you for seeing the import of my duties." He offered another smile, this one tight and polite, and returned to his desk. The draped elder stood at a distance, near the center post, erect and unmoving with her long, tapered fingers clasped in front of her in relaxed pose. Devlin tried to glean a message from her posture, failed, and browsed his notes. "If these reports are correct, there are a number of fae connected with this area."

"If it is as you say, then I'm not surprised."

He looked up. "Oh? And why would that be?"

The elder minutely cocked her head to one side. "All about this area is a thin place, magistrate."

Devlin wondered if the old Drommen was attempting to test him, and felt his temper rising. "A... thin place, you said, elder Enochia? Forgive me; I do not travel to the Verden much."

Her mouth almost formed a grin. "Of course - let me explain it to you. A thin place is an area where the Lore and the Verden come closer to intersection. Fae bridges are more easily formed in those locales, glamour more easily garnered. Some might explain it as where ley lines intersect, thus easing the boundaries of the realms."

The magistrate nodded as if his ignorance was simply a matter of miscommunication. "Ah, ley lines; I see the meaning now. Out of curiosity, where is the intersection near here?"

"Next to the cathedral in Ballaghadaere, but that is simply the apex."

Devlin nodded sagely, as if he intended to use the information. He glanced at his notes once again. "This, being a thin place, must be the explanation why there are so many fae about."

Enochia remained still. "It is the main reason, yes."

With a small effort, the magistrate unclenched his teeth. The Drommen's posture began to unnerve him, standing distant and immobile. He wondered what game she was playing. Not to mention her offering replies, even without a proper question formed, it was irritating. He ignored her comment and continued. "Besides numerous low castes, there are two sprites, two tinkers, a leprechaun, three morphers that are known of, and even a young troll."

"Quite a list indeed, magistrate," Enochia casually replied. "But no Fair fae? More's the pity."

Devlin cocked one eyebrow at her, and added a smirk to it. Enochia thought he practiced the look in his mirror. "The list is not complete, oracle. I didn't mention you, or the venerable Dryad, Aldritch of the Old Wood. There is also a lake Merrow - powerful, so I'm told." His face took a serious aspect. "That makes three elders, oracle; two of which are mentioned in a recent scenario. And it brings to mind a certain redcap, who was also involved."

Enochia nodded once, slow and sure. "I am quite aware of that scenario."

Keeping his face stern, Devlin set his notes down. "I'm sure you are, elder. And while you craftily kept yourself personally out of the incident that occurred at a rural cottage, there is still the matter of one Cora McCarthy. I'm sure you know of her?"

"Yes, magistrate; I have known that one since her birth."

Devlin stared at her incredulously. "Enochia, you openly gave her information pertaining to the fae! Crios and others close with the Circle are acutely aware of such events. You may have fogged her for your own defense, but you left her with intimate knowledge that could be a potential threat to us!"

Enochia gripped her hands tighter. "I understand, magistrate. I considered the situation and felt that Cora McCarthy needed... closure."

The Fair fae flicked his head in a quick shake, his mouth momentarily agape. "Closure?! I don't give an ogre's ass about a mortal's closure!" He struck the table with a fist along with the last word. "By the elements, elder, listen to yourself! You're in breach of the Enigma!"

Enochia kept her pose and composure. "There are extenuating circumstances. Crios and the others simply have not looked into the possible outcomes and repercussions within this specific locale. There are unique circumstances within this particular dynamic, with many variables leading to a wide range of outcomes, some of which are not in our best interest. It is for that reason that I have made certain choices."

Devlin frowned at her. "Our best interests, elder, or simply yours?"

With one smooth stride forward, Enochia replied, "You don't even realize you're a fool, and that's the sad part."

He stood at the insult. "You have blatantly broken one of our laws, and you still have the nerve -"

"Quit your overconfident bluster, magistrate. Unlike your past work for the Circle, this is no simple fogging of mortals or bringing a brownie to justice for tidying a home to a suspicious degree. Yes, I gleaned those examples straight from your head; your defenses are quite lacking. Simply put, this is a scenario the likes of which you haven't dealt with before. It is broader in spectrum than you can perceive, with some possible outcomes even I cannot foresee."

"And how is that>" Devlin asked suspiciously.

Enochia ignored the question and continued. "Your presence here is merely an intrusion, but your position in a unique scenario such as this should be filtered with forethought and diplomacy. Your strong-arm tactics will not achieve the results you want. As an example of that needed diplomacy, you did not even introduce yourself to an elder, Devlin. What I have done is easily containable, but have you ever thought that my motives for allowing a minor - and temporary - breach might be to serve a better purpose and facilitate better outcomes? No, you haven't, because your sight is blurred by pride and authority."

Devlin, while still angry, gained respect for Enochia's gifts, as well as her attempts to manipulate a complex situation. Fists on the table, he leaned toward her. "So I should just disregard the intent of the Circle for sending me here? You made wise points, elder, but I am honor-bound to see justice done. You are in breach of the Enigma by your own admission, yet I should heed your wisdom and turn a blind eye? Is that honestly what you're suggesting?"

Enochia took another graceful step forward. "Magistrate Ryder, there are laws, and there is justice. The laws serve a great purpose, but sometimes justice must supersede them if the best outcome is to be found. Should circumstances decree that I cover my breach, I will do so immediately and without reservation. By all means, see justice done, but learn all aspects of the situation before sentencing, especially this one. You are in a unique position here, Devlin; with patience, you may come away from this earning high esteem. I merely suggest that you talk to all involved, fae and human alike."

They looked at each other for a long moment. With a long sigh, Devlin sat back down. "Elder, there are other incidents of breach. I will leave the McCarthy woman to you for now, but some amount of containment will be enforced. Any other mortals involved with fae knowledge must be modified. I have no time restraints for this task, so I will let the scenario play out... to a degree. In the meantime, I will be making other inquiries, and I ask that you do not interfere. If there are fae that should be brought before the Circle, including you, then I will carry out my duty in whatever manner I deem necessary. Alter fates however you must, but one way or another Cora McCarthy's memories will be modified... And my methods will be less aesthetic than yours."

With a shallow bow, Enochia said, "I appreciate your patience in this matter. My instinct tells me that this will end favorably."

Devlin nodded in return. "Let us hope so. Thank you for your time, elder, and please forgive my lapse in etiquette."

Enochia offered a small smile and said, "Of course." She then pulled the dark hood back over her head and exited the tent.

As she strolled back down the dark country lane, certain aspects of their conversation came to mind. The first was the pile of half-truths and suppositions that she passed off as an oracle's wisdom while she berated Devlin, and he accepted the words as truth. Evidently, Enochia had spent enough time in Eire to learn the 'gift of gab'. Secondly, and the most important half-truth, was that, yes, there was a scenario playing out, but Devlin was that scenario. Lastly, she said that things would end favorably. She didn't say for whom.

Chapter 10

Keller's lone bark announced Kate's homecoming, as usual. She came in, hands full, and found Brody in the office. He stopped his perusal of the paperwork concerning the newly acquired properties when she came in. Kate thanked him once again for the gifts, and then made it very clear that she planned on eating the pizza she brought home, unlike the last one.

They made their way to the kitchen for their boxed meal as the dogs followed expectantly behind them. After short dialogues and simpler topics were touched upon, Brody explained the most interesting event of his day.

Finished with her meal, Kate studied Brody's ancestry data while he, between bites of pepperoni and sausage, told about the conversation with Simon Rike. He finished up the story after eating his fill, leaving the remaining few slices for leftovers.

While Kate doled out meals for the dogs, Brody said, "The weird thing is, I kinda believe him."

Kate took his hand and led him back to the office. On the way, she offered, "Let me just play devil's advocate. Is it that you do believe him, or is it because he's possibly related that you want to believe? It's a subtle but important difference."

Brody sat in an office chair, Kate in the other, facing him. "No, I think I really do believe him. Simon was pretty straightforward, and he gave some details that'd be tough to dig up on the internet. I guess the main thing is, he was sort of reluctant to tell me, not like those UFO nuts who go running to the press."

"And you don't think he was off his nut in any way?"

"No, I really don't." Brody reclined in his chair. "He came off clear and reasonable... He even expected me to doubt him. He almost sounded embarrassed. And unlike when Amy called him, Simon sounded perfectly sober to me; he explained that he did get hammered now and then."

Kate propped an elbow on the desk and her chin in her palm. "I suppose, if we're to believe him, I'd get rat-arsed occasionally myself, in his place."

Brody agreed with a thoughtful nod. "And the thing that I noticed, the thing that kinda bothered me... He seemed sad, down-deep sad."

Her now-bare foot rubbed on his knee. "And could that be why you believe the story? Is it that your big heart overrode common sense and felt bad for him?"

A frown appeared on his shaven face while his big hands rubbed her foot. "Kate, the only thing I have going for me is common sense. I'm no genius, but I'm also not a fool. I felt for Simon because he seemed genuine and kinda old-fashioned, like your dad, and we just, well, got along from the start. It bugs me to see decent people hurting." Brody tweaked her little toe. "And you have a soft heart, too, so that argument won't work."

Kate pulled her foot back, but slowly offered the other for him to rub. "Of course I do. I'm just a dainty gal, so I'm supposed to have a soft heart. But don't worry, love, I'll save your reputation and let you be the big, tough man." She gave a mischievous grin. "It'll be a high price to be paid to let it slip what a teddy bear you are."

Brody, rubbing her foot with both hands, smiled back. The look faded a bit when he asked, "So what do you think about this whole Simon thing?"

There was a few seconds of silence. "Do you know what I'm reminded of?" He raised his eyebrows in curiosity at her question. "Remember when we did all that searching for answers or comparative information after the 'bad day'?" It was Brody and Kate's phrase for the day of the Wagner's, Cora's kidnapping, and the Other Crowd. "I recall reading about faerie abductions, where they'd take a human back with them for a time. I know it was just fable, but what if that was because no one believed the victim in the old days? They just passed it off as storytelling."

"Hmm, that would certainly explain his story. Then again, so would being abducted by a UFO, or just being completely insane."

"But you don't believe those last two, do you?"

"Not the insane part, no, but aliens? We've both seen enough wild shit not to discount anything. Hell, maybe aliens are actually the Other Crowd for all we know. All I'm sure of is that I liked the guy, and feel pretty confident that we're somehow related."

Kate pulled her foot off his thigh and sat up straighter. She knew that the Wagner's were disowned in Brody's mind, and rightfully so. He did feel pity for the youngest, Ben, but had gathered disrespect for his lack of willpower or backbone to attempt an escape from the situation. "Then I think you have a cousin, one you might be proud to call as such, no matter his history."

Brody grinned wide. "Yeah, I guess I do, don't I?"

Kate smiled with him as she reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. She looked back to the desk and arranged the papers she brought from work. "I have that list you asked for, for the families who fell behind in payments."

They went over the informal information together; discussing the people they belonged to and amount of debt. The couple then weighed the variables of sums owed against the number of families in need of assistance. Kate typed up a concluding listing of names and numbers with final tallies. She printed it out and handed the sheet to Brody. He gave it a cursory glance and then handed it back.

Kate looked at him curiously. "Is there a problem?"

"Nope, it all looks good to me."

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "You said the amount was acceptable; I think it's quite generous; exorbitantly so, actually. But this is what you wanted, so why are you handing it back? Do I need to change something?"

With a serene smile, Brody replied, "I think you should take care of this, let you feel the rush of being able to help someone out. You could even send them all the letters, saying how their balance was anonymously paid off. What better way to go for your last day at work?"

She thought about it for a moment; picturing her last meeting with that gobshite Aiden McNally, and helping people - many of whom she knew well enough - to take that heavy weight off of them. A grin formed on her pretty face. "I'll pay what I can with our joint account. Thank you again, by the way. But you'll need to cover the rest for the amounts we're talking about."

"I'm pretty sure your new bank card can cover it, darlin'."

"It can?"

"Uh, yeah; didn't you check the balance?"

Kate looked sheepish. "Well... no, I didn't think to, not until I go shopping with it this Saturday while I'm out with mam and Alana."

Brody got up and kissed the top of her head. "There's enough to cover that list, and for your shopping, even if you splurge." He gave her shoulder a soft massaging squeeze as Kate looked at the printed list. He then he strolled out of the office, pleased on many fronts.

"Where are you going? That felt good," she called out.

"Before I have to sit through that chick-flick you borrowed from Jane, I'm gonna call my cousin back."

***

Dawn reluctantly came, and brought with it a drenching drizzle and patchy fog. Just within the edge of a tree line, on the shore of a small, calm lake not far from Ballaghadaere, two fae sat in discussion under the boughs of an evergreen. Aldritch of the Old Wood sat cross-legged across from a known acquaintance of his, who mirrored the pose.

It wouldn't have been true to call Kazimir a friend, although the two had known each other for long and long, and without any hardships between them. Not even on this occasion, one of civility, where a small boon was owed for a minor but unintentional infraction.

Where Aldritch was all height and sharp angles, Kazimir was girth and broad contours. The morpher, while only just over five feet (tall for his race), was massive. There was little definition in his bare and hairy arms, but they were overly thick from activity and battle. Wide-bodied, heavily boned, and broad shouldered, Kazimir resembled a furry boulder whenever he sat.

Kazimir kept a trim black beard on his strong jaw, hiding a few of his facial scars. Vivid orange eyes, an owl's eyes, looked on from under shaggy brows. His black hair was pulled tightly into a long tail, which blended into his overly long bear-fur vest. Under his broad nose sat a mouth that, while normal (albeit with scar indents on his lips), stretched at the corners to allow tusking teeth to jut out.

The big morpher's affectations were simple and spare. A necklace of carnivore teeth rested on his hairy chest, and his breeches and boots were made from stitched buckskin. The morpher embodied a rustic lifestyle and brute power.

Kazimir had been given the title, 'of the Callous Ruin'; words not of his choosing, but he bore them without chagrin. On a number of occasions, he had been invited to gathering war parties to put down a troublesome pack of ogres or other such adversaries. In the heat of battle, the morpher sometimes became a berserker, and struck out at anyone near him, friend or foe. Allies soon learned to keep their distance and leave him to his frenzied melees. Kazimir had a tactic in battle to only wound or cripple opponents - to ruin them - so that they might be hesitant or unable to ever face him again.

On this occasion, though, the only casualty of violence was a red deer found freshly dead within one of Aldritch's domains, and with Kazimir nearby. Even though the morpher explained that the large buck was in rut and aggressive, he admitted error in bringing down a beast on the elder dryad's claim. They calmly discussed the debt as they sat on dry ground in the dense woods, and came to terms of agreement.

"Is this debt something I might pay off soon? I would be venturing back to my Lore lair soon, and for a time," Kazimir asked in a gravelly voice, accented with a mix of Irish and Slavic.

Aldritch pursed his lips. "It would only be a minor boon I would ask in recompense, good Kazimir. I am sure we could..." The tall dryad's words faded off, and he stared absently into the distance.

The large morpher waited a few respectful moments before asking, "Is there issue abroad?"

Aldritch returned his mint-green eyes to meet Kazimir's orange gaze. "There is, and if you would accompany me, I might find cause for you to fulfill your obligation without much delay."

Chapter 11

The cold mist fell intermittently early Friday morning all about the area of Ballaghadaere. In relaxed pose, Devlin Ryder sat upon his steed as they silently roamed the empty, wet village streets. Unseen to humans, he was still susceptible to their Verden weather. His smooth, black riding boots shone from the precipitation, as did his steed's glossy hide. Devlin's long lemon hair spilled out from under the charcoal-colored hood of his long coat, his lavender eyes alert as the village began to wake.

The movement of an avian not too far distant caught Devlin's eye; he watched as it flew in his general direction. Ducks rarely traveled alone in early winter, and it was too large to be a snowbird. Almost overhead, he saw it was a large barn owl, mostly white with hints of light brown on the wings...And it glittered with fae aura.

Devlin had found one of the area's residing morphers, and turned to follow.

He came quickly to where the owl had landed; a well-manicured lawn of a fit house nearing the outskirts of the village. Just as he arrived, the morpher resumed his fae countenance; a portly little man with simple clothes, curly white hair, and sheep horns curving back over his large head. The little man saw Devlin and froze in momentary alarm.

Not yet dismounted, the Fair fae held up his hand, palm out. "Hold, good shifter. I am a magistrate of the Circle, and would have words with you."

The morpher stayed his ground as Devlin smoothly slid from his steed and approached. They stood on the wet lawn facing each other for a moment before Devlin crouched down in relaxed posture. "Well met, sir. I am Devlin Ryder, magistrate of the Circle, on mission from the decree of elder sprite Egon Soulsinger. May I have your name, morpher?"

With a tugging of his rough coat, the shape-shifter stood straighter. "Gideon be I, magistrate. How can I be of service to the Circle?"

"Gideon... That is a handsome name. Well, Gideon, what do you know of other fae hereabouts?"

The little man frowned, glanced toward the house, and back. "None, or next to it, says I. Keep meself to meself, I do, good sir. I be having no truck with those nearby, only with the ill-oft greeting of those I pass, I do." He furtively glanced at the house again, then back to the magistrate with a wide smile.

Devlin glanced at the house afterwards, seeing the windows still dark. "I see, Gideon. But of those you have passed, can you recollect who or what they were?"

"Ah, to be sure, I can." The morpher stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and began. "For one, and from a scant distance, mind ye, did I see a troop of trolls stomping along on their way to battle, I did, and right through my grazing field. On another day did I see a vast huddle of pixies, a beautiful sight, and they be holding aloft young calves that strayed from their herd, bringing 'em to safety, they were. And once did I see a Merrow - Lochlan be his name, though I know none of his titles if he be having any. Still, I saw the great Merrow spinning a fisherman's boat on one finger, and -"

"Thank you, Gideon," Devlin said while holding a hand up, gently signaling for the morpher to stop his wild tales. "What if I just mention a name and you tell me if you've met them before." He hesitated and then added, "Just a yes or no will suffice."

The magistrate went through the short list of names he had available. Each, except for the last, was met with a negative reply. The name Oriana brought the morpher's head up quickly, with a warm smile on his face. "You know that one, do you?"

"Aye, that I do, but met her only the once, did I," Gideon said with fond memory. "Found a little spot for nappin' along the north shores of Lough Gaell, I did, but then saw the fine construct of a fae haven to the south, I tell ya true. A huge tower it was, with banners and streamers, forbidding and alluring all at once. I bravely approached the barrier walls of its vast lands, and was met with the lady of the keep... the comely sprite maiden Oriana. We only spoke briefly and in polite tones before she retired with her maidservant, to my sorrow. But upon her retreat did she ask of me to call upon her again soon, I tell ya. I'm a roamer, sir, and so could not make such promises. If nothing else, a virtuous fae am I."

Devlin nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Gideon, for your assistance. Should I come across lady Oriana in the midst of my duties, I shall pass along your warmest regards." He paused while the morpher offered a pleasant but nervous smile in reply. "Now, what brings you to this fine home?"

Both of their attentions were brought about as soft light suddenly played out onto the lawn from the house's large front picture window, A moment later, there was vague movement within.

Still casually crouched, Devlin looked back keenly to the anxious little morpher in front of him. When Gideon did not immediately answer, the Fair fae said, "The owner has awoken. Perhaps we should ask him of your interest in his home?" He stood straight, looking down at the fidgeting little man. "Do you have a manifestation worthy to pass as human?"

Gideon looked up with a weak smile. "I came to land here only by happenstance, did I. Weak from hunger, I could go no further without a trifle, and this place has the occasional morsel lying about, it does. As simple as that, good magistrate, and nothing more, I tell ya true."

Devlin saw through the poorly veiled lie, as well as knowing most morphers to be tale-spinners of the highest degree. He also knew that simple questioning with one such as Gideon would only lead to more long-winded fabrications. Subtle diplomacy, as formerly suggested, would prove fruitless. Even though it was only a minor inquiry, and probably coming to naught, Devlin felt the need to assert his authority in some fashion, especially after his frustrating meeting with Enochia.

In a sudden move, the Fair fae stood, snatched Gideon off the ground, and brought him to eye level. Holding the morpher firmly, Devlin stared into the other's wide eyes. With the enchanted power of suggestion, he quietly said, "You will gain me entrance and reveal what you covet therein."

The morpher gave a small nod, saying, "I'll have you invited in straightaway, I will."

Gideon was set back down and hurried to the house, and simply blended through the front door.

Devlin watched him go, and wondered at the seemingly simple rules of etiquette that all of the races shared, but in different degree. Morphers, gremlins, and the like could enter homesteads at a whim, although, to be fair, their manifestations were rarely strong enough to pass for human and so they stayed hidden. However, fae such as the Fair, sprites, and dryads required permission to enter within. For trolls and Drommen, the rules of etiquette were more severe, as they required invitation simply to step upon the holdings of another. Devlin mused that for the latter, those inborn restraints must be highly inconvenient for land travel.

*

With only passing notice of Jane's parents as they began their day, Gideon paced nervously in their living room. He had no ability to command the mind to do his bidding, and so had no way to coerce anyone to invite the magistrate in. Nor did he want to; Jane's gift was powerful and unique, and not to be exploited or glamoured to forget it. Moreover, she was Gideon's friend after a fashion, and he wished her no alarm, tension or danger.

With the assumption that he wasn't involved in the magistrate's current quest, Gideon might well be incurring Devlin's (and the Circle's) wrath should he flee. His panic rose with the realization that he had no way out.

*

As the mist deepened into a drizzle, Devlin grew irritated standing out in it on the lawn. With glances through the windows that offered a view, he saw no one hurrying to the front door. Considering that the skittish morpher may have failed in his attempts of suggestion, Devlin debated manifesting and simply knocking. But why would any mortal freely invite a young stranger in of their own free will, especially at such an early hour?

He called for Gideon once, twice, but with no reply. The magistrate concluded that the morpher was hiding, and thus refusing the command of his office. Devlin stood impotent in the rain, and began to rage, threatening loud curses against the inhabitants of the house should Gideon not acquiesce.

***

While Kate prepared for her last day of work, Brody walked outside into the misty morning air. He headed to the stone shed next to the vegetable garden to the rear of the cottage. The dogs had earlier ventured out to do their business, and had no desire to revisit the ugly weather, not even to follow their master.

After Brody removed his raincoat, he looked over the few blocks of granite that had initial chips and cuts set into them. He had only come out to make mental notes of the blocks and how he might progress with each before returning to see Kate off.

Rough but practiced hands slid over the abrasive contours of the heavy cut of stone. Brody closed his eyes as he searched only by feel for any natural seams or fissures. With concentration and focus, his fingertips found a line within a deeper cut which might threaten the granite's integrity further in.

Pressing along the seam, Brody felt a strange difference in the texture of his own finger tips. They felt as if they were somehow adopting the same density and strength as the stone. He pulled his hands away, shook them, and then studied his fingers closely. Under the rock dust, they appeared normal. That odd sensation of his hands gathering in density had happened in the past, but rarely, and he remembered each of those instances.

Brody returned to his inspection, concerned over how much of the 400 lb. stone he'd have to discard. His fingers glided back into the inset to inspect the seam again, but couldn't find it. In fact, that small area now felt smooth, as if buffed. With a pen light, he looked into the little crevasse. The troubling seam was gone; a thin line of polished stone replaced where it once was.

'What the hell?' he thought as he looked again. The smooth line was obvious, surrounded by rough stone, and looked as if his fingers sealed the seam and rubbed it to a shine.

Brody's puzzlement was suddenly interrupted by an unfamiliar voice behind him at the wide entry of the shed. "Hey there, Lynch, how's the Missus? Has she tried any more disappearing acts?"

Always reliably calm under normal circumstances, Brody's temper suddenly spiked upon seeing that little red-haired demon again, hovering ten feet away. He'd formerly been assured by a source now unreliable - Kate's fae grandfather - that Lorcan wouldn't trouble them again. The small, black-eyed monster had twisted the Wagner's already dark thoughts, and created a path of pain and murder. He personally attacked Kate... Terrified her; hurt her.

Not again. Brody didn't care who or what Lorcan was, man or child, now benign or still malevolent. The little demon would not have a second chance to cause misery and fear.

Seeing the big human's temper flash-boil, Lorcan put his hands up as he slowly retreated. The man looked ready to attack, and he didn't want to put the big idiot down before delivering his message. Maybe after, though. "Look, I'm not here to hurt you. I was sent here to tell -"

"You little bastard," Brody growled low. His hand instinctively gripped the stone, unaware that his fingers sunk into the granite as if it was stiff clay. With a grunt of rage, he swung his arm around in a wide arc and launched the block of stone at his target.

Surprised, Lorcan barely dodged the big rock with his inhuman speed. The massive block of granite sailed past him and out of the shed like a rocket, where it slammed deep into the lawn with a heavy thump. The little fae's black eyes goggled; no human, even one that man's size, should have had the power for such a feat. Not many fae did, either.

As Lynch charged after him, Lorcan hovered away backwards, not wanting to turn his back on the enraged human. And there was still a message to deliver to appease that sly bitch, Enochia. In order to create enough distance to deliver his message, he moved faster than Brody's hurried pursuit. With his new concern of the man's amazing strength, Lorcan didn't check behind him.

Less than a meter off the ground, he was in a fast retreat when his thighs hit the embedded block of granite. The impact jarred him, but momentum carried the little fae on, flipping him over the stone and onto his stomach.

Brody caught up to Lorcan just as the little fae had risen to his hands and knees. Growling through gritted teeth, Brody swung his foot as if attempting a long field goal. The large boot connected with Lorcan's skull and sent him flying.

Lorcan sailed across the lawn head-first, his small body trailing limply in tow. He landed hard, bounced, rolled, and came to rest closer to the cottage.

Brody barked profanities as he stormed across the lawn to finish the job.

Chapter 12

Aldritch emerged from the small patch of deep shade, made by a cluster of tree boughs and bushes in the corner of the McCarthy's front lawn. Near the house, he saw the back of a Fair one, who was currently issuing a threat to curse the residents therein should the little one named Gideon not return from within.

Aldritch knew of the morpher in question, aware that he spent some time at the McCarthy house, and was a friendly fae with no malicious intent. But Gideon was not the elder's concern. It was the menacing Fair fae with the long blonde locks that had Aldritch's attention, and his ire.

As Devlin took a moment of silence to see if Gideon would respond to his dire warnings, he sensed movement behind him over his right shoulder. He snapped his head around to see an extremely tall fae with a large, crooked staff coming toward him. The closer the tall one came, the heavier it began to rain. Devlin turned to face the visitor, and took notice of autumn leaves swirling and fading in his wake as he strode forward with purpose.

A few steps away, the tall fae stopped, planted his staff, and said, "I am Aldritch of the Old Wood, and I would ask your business here before I send you off."

Crossing his arms, Devlin haughtily lifted his brows. "Send me off? Me? I am Devlin Ryder, magistrate on quest from the Circle of Nine for breaches of the Enigma in this area. While I'm here, I shall do as I please to complete my quest, and not even an elder such as you will divert me from that path. In fact, you are on my list of inquiry, good Aldritch."

"That was to be expected, but what brings you to the McCarthy home to search for the harmless Gideon? To my knowledge, he has no involvement in recent doings."

Devlin cocked his head in surprise. "This is the home of Cora McCarthy? Well, well, how fortuitous."

Aldritch leaned in. "It is her home, yes, and to hear you offering harm to the family will cause issues between us. I take exception to it, magistrate, as well to the coercion of innocent fae."

"That is all well and good," the magistrate said loftily, "and I appreciate your concerns. Fear not, the humans here will come to no harm. With that said, I do have cause to be here, and I also have reason to name you as a suspect in these matters."

"I expected as much."

"If you take issue with me, then you take issue with the Circle. Take your discontent to them." Devlin then offered a blatantly false smile, his teeth bright in the heavy rain. "What concerns me presently is what role your innocent Gideon plays in this matter. He leads me to a place of interest; a suspect arrives as well. How very interesting, very... coincidental. Do you have a special role in his welfare?"

After a moment's hesitation, Aldritch replied, "No, not I..." He then took a casual step backwards.

The magistrate scowled in bewilderment at the elder's reply and movement. And then he barely had time to dodge the swooping blur of a huge avian. As Devlin took his arm down from over his head, he saw a great eagle owl with mottled black and tan feathering stretch its seven foot wingspan before landing. The creature then abruptly morphed into the stout, blocky form of Kazimir.

The big morpher immediately walked up to Devlin, looked him up and down, then back up to meet his eyes. "Sorry about that," he said with gravelly voice and grim set, "I mistook you for a stoat."

Devlin, startled and then surprised at the implication from the stranger, had no time to put words to his indignation. The short, broad morpher quickly turned his head and sniffed, then walked up to the front door of the McCarthy home and blended through it.

Both Aldritch and Devlin looked at the door, and then back to each other. The looming elder leaned on his warped staff and said, "I know you have your duties, magistrate, and there are actions to make with respect to the Enigma's breach. But make no mistake; it will be I who will see to any fogging of Cora McCarthy's memories if sanction is not given from the Circle. Until I see what transpires here, though, I will take no actions nor answer any inquiries."

"You cannot simply -"

"And one final matter, Sir Ryder," Aldritch said over Devlin's protests. He gripped his staff tightly, and thunder rippled through the morning rain. "Should I find you once again attempting to harass these humans, or even their kin, then the Circle be damned. I will send you back to them as a cup of ashes."

With raised brows over half-lidded eyes, Devlin leisurely pulled open his coat, which revealed a long, hand-wrought iron blade with a thick handle strapped to the lining. "We shall see, elder."

*

Within the McCarthy home, Kazimir and Gideon approached each other in warm greeting of clasped arms. Of all the fae, the morphers were ever genial to their own kind, and called one another brother or sister even with no familial bonds. Beyond that kinship, the two fae in the McCarthy's home knew the other well, and had on a few occasions hunted together in their avian forms.

Gideon explained the circumstances to his big friend. He spoke rapidly and without embellishment, a rarity for him. Kazimir asked questions that, while innocent, led Gideon's answers to the subject of innocent Jane. Taking a chance of trust, he told of the girl's ability and explained all of the details of her play room.

The big morpher listened intently, ignoring the McCarthy's as they busied themselves for the coming day while the two fae stayed safely hidden from their mundane sight and hearing. Kazimir wondered at the information given, but then assured his little 'brother' that no harm or reprimand would come to him from the magistrate.

Together, they melded back through the front door and into the rain, where the Fair magistrate and elder dryad awaited them. Kazimir, with his hand on Gideon's shoulder, first acknowledged Aldritch with a nod. Then his features soured into a grim visage when he turned to Devlin. "My brother knows nothing of your motives for being sent here. Nor do I, magistrate. Should you find further reason to question Gideon, then you will have to ask me in his stead. He is now under my protection, and through no debt, which I doubt you could understand."

"How gallant of you, sir," Devlin replied as he crossed his arms. "And who should I call upon if I do have further reason to question him?"

"I am Kazimir of the Callous Ruin, elf." Apprehensive recognition flickered in Devlin's eyes of the warrior shifter's name and title, but the somewhat derogatory term 'elf' was not overlooked. Kazimir smiled at the magistrate's reaction, but it wasn't a happy smile. "So interrogate my brother Gideon again without my presence... please. Then I can demand a challenge combat with you in the Lore. I relish the thought."

The brawny morpher turned to his small friend. "Take your leave now, brother. We shall speak again soon." They gripped hands once again. Gideon bowed individually to all present, and then took form of a soft-feathered barn owl. He quickly took to the air, cutting through the rain with his departure.

Devlin saw that the warrior morpher was watching his little friend take wing to safety. He furtively scanned Kazimir's foremost thoughts while the brawny fae was momentarily preoccupied. The information was scattered but clear in his simple and tumultuous mind; a play room, Jane McCarthy, gifted voice, spaces made in the void, fogged, doors, food. Devlin's rearrangement of the scrambled thoughts was interrupted when Aldritch stepped forward.

A large hand was gently placed on the morpher's shoulder, but Aldritch addressed the magistrate. "I would have private words with Kazimir before we continue our business, Sir Ryder."

After the magistrate nodded his assent, Aldritch led Kazimir across the lawn to its low retainer wall next to a road. In safe distance not to be overheard or otherwise scrutinized, not even by Devlin's large steed, the towering elder looked down to the morpher. Noting the disparity in height, Kazimir stepped up onto the wall, bringing them eye to eye.

Aldritch gave a thin smile. "Ah, better, thank you. Kazimir, I wish a small favor from you that would repay your debt."

"And I have information you would find interest in, elder."

"We can discuss your topic at another time, and what it might cost me to hear it. For now, though, there is a chance I may have to spend some time in the Lore, beyond my choice to."

Kazimir scowled and cocked his head, like an animal hearing a strange pitch. "Elder?"

The line of Aldritch's mouth curved down. "There is one in yonder home named Cora McCarthy. For reasons that are my own, she has been made aware of the fae and left with a clear memory of it. The magistrate would see that breach of the Enigma rectified. And so, if the Circle will hear my petition, I will go to make my case and ask for sanction. They may also simply return my messenger with a note of denial, but might wish my presence for further interrogation. If I cannot gain sanction in any case, then I will fix the mortal's memories myself."

With a nod of comprehension, Kazimir nodded. "And you wish me to accompany you, should you need a champion for battle?"

Aldritch grinned at the warrior's offer. "No, good Kazimir, although I know you would excel in that role. I ask that you go inform the eldest daughter of Cora McCarthy that her mother might be glamoured, and soon. The daughter, Kate, is also aware of us, but for other reasons. The matter is important enough to settle your debt, lest she try to converse with her mother about us... about things Cora may no longer remember. That instance might cause some upheaval. It is early enough yet that the daughter still may be found at her home before she goes to meet her curious vocational obligations. She, like her mother, holds place with me. So have a care and go gently, Kazimir."

"It will be done."

After he gave directions and landmarks to the cottage, and a quick description of Kate, Aldritch took a step back as Kazimir once again transformed into his large avian form and powerfully lifted off.

The tall dryad reluctantly strode back across the lawn to stand in front of Devlin, who waited for him patiently. "I would call for a messenger to carry my petition to the Circle, magistrate."

The Fair fae smiled smugly under his hood. "Of course, elder, that is your right. I happen to have two pixies at my disposal, and reliable to carry your message. As you are unhappy with my presence at this home, I suggest we retire to my temporary holding and wait in comfort for their response."

Inwardly, the magistrate was jubilant at the turn of events in his favor. The assurances of given time he offered to the Drommen oracle were easily superseded with the opportunity to complete part of his mission and to thwart her plots. He considered Enochia's words to be silky rubbish for all her empty swagger.

Neither Devlin nor Aldritch had expected to find Enochia waiting in the magistrate's tent. When she and the tall dryad exited, Devlin sat in a daze, only remembering meeting Aldritch and some barbaric morpher on a random lawn. The oracle had removed the knowledge that it was Cora McCarthy's lawn, and any significant words with Aldritch. What she missed, with no reason to search further, was the information snatched out of Kazimir's head.

Chapter 13

Lorcan blinked his eyes. He was on wet cut grass. A fine mist was dampening his face. Even though his thoughts were erratic and his eyes were blurry, he could still make out a human coming toward him. He was a large human, and angry. Lorcan's dizzy brain danced with remembering his name. All the redcap knew was that the big bastard could hit like a troll.

The little fae scrambled to his feet and ran like a drunkard to the corner of the cottage, then around to the front of it. The front door was opening just as he collected enough sense to instant-travel far away from there.

*

As Brody stomped across the lawn in a rage, he saw the little monster get to his feet only a few moments after his crash-landing. 'Tough little shit', he thought. 'Good, it'll give me more time to pound him into a fucking puddle'.

Brody saw the demon wobble around the corner of the cottage, and sped up his pace of pursuit. He came around the corner with a growl in his throat. He only saw Kate standing in the doorway, eyes wide and not focused on him. In his rage, he bellowed, "Where is that piece of shit!"

*

Kate was finishing a cup of coffee when she heard some muted activity, and then thought she saw something pass by the window. First she noticed the dogs perk up and began to growl as they hurried to the living room. Then she caught a glimpse of Brody as he passed by just outside, and wondered what was happening. She went to the front door and opened it, but stayed in the doorway to block the dogs from running out into the rain.

Kate froze as she saw a few things, nearly all at once. A disheveled Lorcan stumbled into sight and then literally disappeared. A huge bird soared in fast from the south, the direction the cottage faced, and landed on the near stack-stone wall. Brody came from around the cottage, furious. Her startled attention was brought back to the bird, who transformed into a man, of sorts, in front of her eyes.

*

With an owl's vision, Kazimir saw some movement about the homestead in the distance. A small figure hurried around to the front, and then blinked away just as a female opened the door. As the morpher swooped in to land, a large man followed the path of the small fae, and aggressively advanced on the woman.

The angry man who yelled at her wasn't quite as tall as the elder Aldritch, but was heavy with brawn. The woman matched the description given, and possibly faced peril from the man. Kazimir hopped to the ground after landing on a low field wall. He quickly shifted to his human manifestation and kept within mundane vision to distract the big human.

*

"Where is he?!" Brody barked again.

Kate pointed over his left shoulder, and said with a trembling voice, "Brody... sparkles."

He spun and saw a short man, but nearly as wide as his height. A furry vest down to his knees, revealing bare, thick arms covered in coarse, dark hair. Then there were the stranger's large, bright orange eyes, and tusks that jutted from the corners of his lower lip. He looked to Brody like a squat barbarian, but obviously a fairy - another damn trespassing fairy.

Kazimir saw the fire in the big man's eyes when he turned, apparently looking for any outlet for his anger. Unsure whether he was allowed to put the man down or not, the morpher first issued a warning. "Leave now before you come to injury," he said in his rough, strange accent.

Brody trembled with seething fury, and clenched his hands hard. "You damn fairies don't get it, do you?" he said with a snarl as he walked toward the blocky fae. "This is my home, and you fuckers aren't welcome!"

Seeing that the verbal warning didn't work, Kazimir tried for more a more intimidating tactic. With the human only a few strides away, the morpher shifted into his other form. Transforming, he became a huge boar, five hundred pounds and five feet tall at the shoulder. His pelt was bristled, colored black and mottling to tan on his underbelly. The orange eyes remained as before, but the tusks grew to a lethal six inches and jutted out on either side of his big snout.

With almost a skid on the packed gravel, Brody came to a stop. Without taking his eyes off the huge beast, he called out, "Kate, get inside!"

Stifling a gasp, Kate reached a trembling hand to the door. Just then, the dogs thrust past her, jostling her into the door frame. Led by Honey, the three rushed out, barking viciously with foam flecking their lips as they joined their master and formed a semi-circle around the boar. The dogs kept their distance, snarling and snapping with their hackles raised.

Kazimir hadn't expected battle before he arrived, but certainly wasn't going to shy from it. If they wanted a fight, he was happy to oblige. The words the man yelled at him before were only noise as battle-lust filled the morpher's mind.

He settled in pose to charge the big human, but then hesitated; the man's hands were grey, and a fine dust fell from them when he re-clenched his fists. Kazimir remembered seeing that affectation from a few trolls on a battlefield, those strong with the stone gift. The morpher's pause allowed one of the dogs to edge in closer from the side, but was brushed back with a grunt and swipe of tusks.

Brody saw the beast swing his head at the advancing Keller, who dodged back and resumed his frenzied snarling. With the hulking boar's attention momentarily diverted, Brody took two quick strides in with his fist cocked back.

Kazimir turned back just in time to receive a hammering blow between his eyes. Surprised as well as stunned, he stumbled back on unsure hooves. The man was yelling again, but the words were distant. As his vision cleared, the morpher came to the conclusion that the man was a troll in good human manifestation. Judging by the power of the blow, he must also be a large one.

Just as the two opponents prepared to press the combat, they both noticed that the dogs suddenly quieted and sat, their snarls mixed with whines. Brody took a step back in confusion. Kazimir, still thrilled for battle, unexpectedly heard a soft, feminine voice in his head. "Calm your heart, warrior. The conflict is not warranted. Ease yourself. Slow your pulse. All is well. Ease yourself."

The soothing words had limited effect, but enough. Kazimir looked about warily and saw a petite form standing not far off in the near field, hidden from mundane view. In boar form, his olfactory senses were strong, and gave snorting sniffs in her direction. The morpher caught faint scents of wild grass and lilacs, but also hints of stone hearths and Lore breezes.

Kazimir shuffled a few more paces back and resumed his human manifestation, such as it was. He eyed his opponent, saw he was in calm but alert pose, and turned once more to the hooded fae who stood out in the tall grass. He quickly vaulted the low field-stone wall and strode out to meet her, fading from Verden sight as he did so.

*

"Brody!" Kate yelled as she ran to him. He held her close while she squeezed herself against him. He murmured soothing words as he stroked her hair, and noticed that his brave dogs remained seated. "That was Lorcan you chased off? I wasn't just seeing things?" she asked.

He held Kate's head against him. "It was him."

"Why?" she asked into his chest. "Why was he back? Can't that evil thing leave us be?"

A grim smile grew on Brody's damp face. "I think he was here to tell me something, or maybe just to taunt me, I don't know. I didn't give him the chance to talk. But I don't think we'll see him again for a while. I gave him a good reason not to."

Kate pulled back and looked up at him. "My - Aldritch said he would be taken away, that he would be punished. I don't understand."

Brody scowled. "Yeah, me neither. I want a word with your ol' granddad sometime, especially if he's supposed to be the local badass. He won't like what I have to say about this fucking insanity."

With a frown, Kate said, "There must be a reason for all this paranormal attention; we just don't know what it is yet. We have to find the reason, or have someone explain it. Just because we can't fathom the motives of the Other Crowd doesn't make it madness, love."

He looked earnestly into her eyes. "Kate, I just punched a giant shape-changing pig."

She scrunched her eyes against the mist and then looked away, slowly nodding as a grin grew. Brody smiled with her, and at the absurdity of the situation.

Kate hugged him again, and then saw that the dogs remained seated, looking confused. Brody saw the direction of her curious gaze and said, "Yeah, one of those damn fairies is out there somewhere, messin' with the dogs' heads. Hopefully it's just Oriana. Can you see anything?"

She studied the field. "Yes, they're out in the nearest paddock. Both of their colors are cautious and reserved." Kate considered the distant hues a moment longer, and then spoke surprisingly stern and loud. "I believe we're being watched, and I find it unnerving and quite rude."

"Good point, darlin'," Brody agreed. He stepped over by his dogs and looked out to his southern paddocks. "Hey!" he yelled out into the morning mist, "I want a word with whoever's out there! I don't want to fight. I'm just protecting my loved ones and my property." He felt Kate move up to his side. "So you either tell us what you want, or get the hell off our land!"

*

Kazimir calmly approached the sprite. He stopped a respectful distance away and gave a slight bow. "Lady," he said in his gritty voice, "I am appreciating your actions and words to diffuse hostilities, for that was not my intent in coming here, but please do not intrude on my combat again."

She bowed in return and folded back her hood, revealing amber eyes even larger and more vibrant than his. They were near equal in height, but his girth made her look puny in comparison - a rock and a feather. With a serene voice, Oriana said, "I have no place to intrude on two willing combatants, warrior. However, there was only one present - you. I know those humans well enough, sir, and while the man may have the look of a fighter, he will only defend, not attack."

"Man?" Kazimir replied incredulously. "He must be a troll."

Oriana smiled, small and sweet. "No, I am sure he is of the Verden."

"It was not you he struck in the face, with a fist like a boulder, lady sprite."

She noted his formality, reminiscent of Aldritch, but more forced and less eloquent. "I am Oriana. And you are... the morpher Kazimir, yes?"

"You know me, lady?'

Oriana gently shook her head. "Forgive me; my gift of sense is sometimes intrusive. Might you share your reasoning for your visit here?"

Kazimir looked to the cottage and then back to her. "I am on errand to deliver a message to the human Kate McCarthy. I'm told she already has knowledge of us, so my appearance will be no issue other than shock. As for the man, I will remember to fog him upon my departure."

"Ah, I see. I hope the message does not bring dour news; she has just recently found great happiness after years without any. Yes, she is aware of us, for she has a fae-sight of sorts. Fogging her will only cause her to relearn what was lost, and learn it she would."

"Truly? How?"

Oriana shrugged her delicate shoulders. "As for the man... Brody Lynch is his name, and this property is his. If you are able to cloud his memory, then I applaud you. My attempt failed, as have others'."

Kazimir rubbed his tusks absently. "Curious, but then it has been a morning of curiosities." He focused on her bright eyes. "And why might you be present, lady Oriana?"

"Quite simple reasons, really. First, my haven is very near here, and it offers a view."

He looked around in all directions. "Oh?"

"It has recently been glamoured from sight and memory unless I wish it," she explained. "For the debt owed from that service, I was asked once again to be here, on this morning, and to wait."

"Ah, from a seer, then," he presumed.

Oriana was about to give a vague reply when the two fae heard Kate's voice as she stated her displeasure. They looked in that direction as Brody issued his loud request and bold comments.

*

As Kate put her arm around Brody's waist and he put his around her shoulders, they watched two figures fade back into sight out in the field. While the broad and thin fae made their slow approach, Kate whispered, "I'd rather make friends than enemies, if we can."

"That'd be nice," Brody softly agreed. "Then again, with these... people, I'd be just as happy being strangers rather than acquaintances." After a moment's pause, he then said, "I'm sorry, by the way."

"Sorry? For what?"

He sighed. "I lost my temper. That rarely happens, but I did stupid things. I yelled at you. I attacked a side of bacon."

"A monstrous, mutant side of bacon," Kate corrected. "You have nothing to feel bad for, love. I completely understand. We're of the same mind on this."

Oriana and Kazimir stopped on the field side of the low stone wall. Slight nods were given by all, either in recognition or truce.

The morpher spoke first. "I am Kazimir of the Callous Ruin, and I was not sent here for combat. I was asked to deliver a message to the lady of this home, Kate McCarthy." He looked at Brody. "That your aggression might be for her, I chose to intercede only to be able to deliver said message."

With a small frown, Brody said, "My anger was for someone else, but I understand your motives. Well, sort of. You came at a bad time."

Kazimir nodded. "Your rage was for the one who vanished?"

"Lorcan," Oriana supplied.

"That one is of no concern to me. However," the broad fae commented, "I do offer the suggestion that you keep better reign of your temper."

"Hold on there, porky," Brody said defensively. "I didn't know what your motives were, especially after you turned into the ham from hell."

Kazimir held up a placating hand. "I did not mean for my benefit, but for yours. The blow you offered me might kill a human; with your gift of stone in play, then it would be assured."

Confused, Brody asked, "Gift of stone?" The morpher didn't reply.

Kate chose the awkward pause to interrupt. "Kazimir, I am Kate McCarthy. Would you give me your message, please?"

The barbaric-looking fae looked from Brody to her. "My message was for you alone. No one else was mentioned. It is not for me to say if those words are a private affair."

"Then why don't you and I step aside," Kate suggested while she patted Brody's chest to let him know it would be safe, "and you can deliver your message?"

She and Kazimir walked a few steps away with the wall between them. Brody moved a step or two in the opposite direction to stand near the dogs, who seemed themselves again. Oriana stepped closer as well, apparently to admire the animals. An uncomfortable silence ensued.

Brody took in Oriana's strange, otherworldly appearance before he stated his thoughts. "I suppose you did us another favor this morning, as Kate and I assume you did not too long ago," he began. "For that, thank you. And it was probably a good move to calm my dogs down. But here's the thing..." He took a step closer to the wall separating them. "I don't care if you are a woman; if you go putting the whammy on my pets again without my permission, I'll throw your little fairy butt in the lake."

Before any more could be said, Kate and Kazimir returned. Brody saw the concern in her eyes.

Kazimir stated with his gravelly voice, "My duty is complete. I hope you all fare well." The morpher stepped back to shape-shift into his travelling form.

Brody hastily said, "Hang on a second." Both fae looked at him questioningly. "While I have two of you, uh, good folk here, I want to come to some sort of agreement. Look, for the most part, your kind has been an aid, but only because another one of you guys gave me and Kate a shit-load of trouble. Not that we're not appreciative, but we just want normal, simple lives. Is there some way to make that happen? Please?"

The two fae shared a glance. The soft, melodic voice of Oriana spoke for them. "That we could, Brody, we would. Making you forget us would be the simplest solution."

Brody looked at Kate and asked her, "Would you mind forgetting all this shit, darlin'?" When she emphatically shook her head, he turned back to Oriana. "We're all good with forgetting you people, no offense. So lay it on us."

The huge amber eyes looked sad. "It would be for our benefit as well, but as I said, if we could, we would. I am sorry."

"But why can't you?" Kate asked.

"Kate, you have fae-sight; we could take your memories of us, but not the gift. You would eventually come to realize you have it all over again, especially with Brody at your side. For reasons we are unaware of, he is resistant to that glamour." She looked up at him. "We cannot make you forget us, or anything at all, for that matter. You would know of Kate's temporarily forgotten gift, and help her realize it as you have done before. Again, I am sorry."

Jumbled thoughts swirled in Brody's brain. He tried to make his resistance and that 'gift of stone' come together for an explanation... and failed miserably. He then thought that, with his knowledge and that 'gift' thing, maybe he could make the Other Crowd leave he and Kate alone by threatening to tell stories and show off his 'gift'.

But that was blackmail, something Brody couldn't do in good conscience. Not to mention that the ridiculous notion would almost certainly backfire and he'd be seen as a delusional freak. Brody finally determined that the problem started with just one of them, and the others followed - twice.

"What would it take to keep Lorcan out of our lives, permanently?" Brody asked.

Kazimir stepped back toward him. "Are you offering barter?"

Brody hesitated. "Um, can't your people just get rid of him because it's the right thing to do?"

Oriana turned to her fellow fae. "Kazimir, I know this redcap. He is strong in the gifts of suggestion and travel. He is not one for valorous combat, and would not meet you on a field of battle. You may well have grand skills and gifts for a warrior's use, but I wonder if they would be suitable to corner such a scoundrel."

"Scoundrel?" Brody interjected. "Did you just call him a scoundrel? He's a manipulating, murderous little demon! I don't care how you do it! Use your magic wands or pixie dust or something! Just keep him away from us and Kate's family!"

Kazimir looked at him dubiously. "Pixie dust... Are you serious?"

"I see no reason for Lorcan to plague my family except for me and Brody," Kate stated. "His downfall was here, with us. While Brody may well have secured us for a time, that devil may still lurk about unseen and cause havoc." She looked at Kazimir. "Would you be willing to sentry duty until we can find a permanent solution for Lorcan?"

"Such a contract is not one for me, Lady Kate. I would not be locking myself to a location for any length of time; my type is prone to roam."

With a jeweled hand that gripped her coat tighter at the neck, Oriana said, "There is one who may still hold Lorcan indebted. I could contact her on your behalf for minimal recompense. Then, should the debt-holder agree, you may barter for what you wish."

Brody waved a hand energetically in front of him. "No, no. Thanks, but no way. I wanted less to do with your kind, not more. And making multiple deals with the Other Crowd? Forget it."

Kate nodded. "I'm afraid we'd be out of our element in negotiations with a people we can barely fathom. We appreciate your kind offer, but we must decline. We will make our own way." She turned from one to the other. "Kazimir, should you see Aldritch in your travels, pass along my gratitude for his message. Oriana, your kindness has been an aid, but we cherish our privacy and just want to live our simple lives. Hopefully your support will not be needed again."

The petite fae offered a bow of her hooded head. "Eloquently put and I hope the same as well. I will be pleased when you catch the tranquility that eludes you."

That said, both fae turned and walked away into the field, fading as they went, until Brody and Kate were once again alone. Kate watched to make sure of it.

"What a wild-ass morning," Brody sighed, watching as the dogs decided to jog inside.

Kate hugged him and then looked at her new watch. "I'm going to be late. I need to fix my make-up and hurry along."

Holding Kate close as they walked side by side back indoors, Brody asked. "So what if you're late? What's McNally gonna do? Fire you?"

"I see your point, although I'd still like to be professional, even on my last day," Kate sighed in futility as she shuffled down the hall, her best outfit damp from the mist. "Mary was right; I'm going to be a worthless pile of shite today."

Chapter 14

The normally expected bitter weather for November in Denver, Colorado relented at least for a day. While the late morning air was crisp and cool, the warming sun made only jackets or sweaters necessary. The sky was a vibrant blue, and the wind was calm.

And on that bright and beautiful Friday, Simon Rike felt as if he'd been delivered from hell.

The architecture of the city's skyline still seemed imposing, even after years of staring at it. The new mode of local travel, speeding vehicles that filled the roads and highways, was still intimidating. But as Simon sat on a picnic bench in a popular park eating a deli sandwich, those aspects of the modern city were ignored. He basked in the sun as pedestrians and park visitors milled around him.

Concerns that Rike Smithy was failing could wait, at least for a few hours. Simon was reveling in a new-found freedom that no one else could appreciate.

He looked around, and waited for the reactions he had become accustomed to, and happily saw nothing. Mothers at the nearby swing sets weren't pulling their children away from him while looking over their shoulders in disgust. No pet owner was ordering his dog to attack. No elderly couples cussed him with shocking vulgarities. Hell, even the kid at the deli shop refrained from spitting on his sandwich, and wished him a nice day. Simon was basically ignored, back to the way he knew while growing up, and he was euphoric because of it.

Not that he wanted to break routine and interact with any strangers, or even folks he'd met before (and had been immediately despised by). He still considered most people to be wild cards; he never knew what he was going to get, and didn't like the odds that it'd be good. As he chewed another big bite of his sandwich, Simon supposed that some folks might be decent enough, but the majority were greedy, ill-mannered, scheming, or just plain stupid.

The glaring exception to that appraisal was his new-found relative, Brody. Simon's cousin had somehow turned things around, and besides that, he was a genuinely nice guy. He'd kept his word and called back a few hours after that first talk, and they hit it off pretty well. It was still a wonder how a simple phone call could make such a huge impact.

While Simon relaxed with a quirley (modern cigarettes were for girls) at the scenic park bench, his cell phone's text alert sounded. There was a message from Brody. Their second conversation the day before included Brody giving his email and then explaining how texting worked, something Simon had no experience with. That talk was longer than the first, which not only gave both men time to mention the highlights of their current lives, but to discuss Simon's supernatural hardships.

The message from Brody was simple and quick: 'Crappy morning in the land of bliss - hope yours is better than mine was, cuz.'

Simon had decided to take the day off, considering he would be working over the weekend. He figured one afternoon in the midst of the public would be enough before he was reminded how people could be. He replied to the text with a vague but optimistic note, and found himself looking forward to hearing from Brody. As if on cue, his cousin texted again and had asked Simon to email pictures of some of his work, and that Brody might want to place a large Christmas order.

The day had gotten better and better, other than those damn screaming kids on the swings.

***

In the center of a vast, grassy plain was a small, abrupt hill. The top of the low hill was formed flat. That circular level border was ringed by large white trees with vibrant foliage, a variety never seen in the mundane realm of humans. The turquoise sky above was dotted with puffy pastel clouds that continuously changed into recognizable shapes as they floated by. Light breezes carried whispers of lost melodies and sighing dreams.

This was one of the refuges within the extensive Lore holdings that belonged to Saraid, and where she currently made her comfort.

A group of low-caste nymphs attended to their Lady while she reclined in a large, ornate wooden chair, pillowed with bound moonlight. The nymph servants were no taller than four feet, garbed in green tunics and boots, and all with very long pointed ears. They scurried about as they saw to their Lady's whims.

The wooden goblet in Saraid's small hand was again refilled with berry wine. A young nymph stood immobile to the side of her chair, holding a thin stone platter filled with sweet fruits. Wisps danced up in the boughs of the trees, as much for their own entertainment as for hers. For all of Saraid's distant yet lovely havens, nothing compared to the comforts of home.

Saraid casually sat up straighter when her senses were alerted to a visitor on her holdings. As with most fae of worth, she was attuned to her lands, and instinctively knew when a creature not of her house would travel onto it. Before long, a male pixie arrived and stopped to bow at the edge of the ring of trees. He remained hovering with his beetle wings a blur, waiting for her allowance to let him enter the plateau of beatific shade.

Saraid saw the two scrolls the messenger carried and allowed him to come forward. She paused as she looked for a place to set the goblet, and called one of her servants near and simply touched her forehead. Victim to her Lady's gift of transformation, the nymph immediately turned into a toadstool. Saraid set her drink on its cap, retrieved the scrolls, and gave a nod of dismissal to the pixie.

Both messages were from Devlin. The first was a missive to the Circle members that were in session for his quest; an update report. The other was addressed to her personally. Perhaps that second note held something significant, or at least entertaining. Saraid mused that the arrogant Fair hadn't gotten himself expelled or killed yet, which was well enough. Still, there was time yet for the winds to change direction.

Circle Missive

Magistrate Devlin Ryder

Area of Ballaghadaere, Eire

Duty of rectification for breaches of Enigma, and naming of suspects

Search continuing for informed humans Cora McCarthy, Kate McCarthy - others possible

Inquiries ongoing - List of current suspects as follows:

Aldritch of the Old Wood, dryad elder; affiliation to quest unclear

Enochia of Eight (Eversight), Drommen elder; prime suspect, still investigating

Kazimir of the Callous Ruin, morpher; affiliation to quest unclear

Lorcan, redcap; prime suspect, yet to be questioned

Will continue to follow the decree of the Circle of Prudence in given mission - more reports to follow

Saraid smiled at the list of suspects. Enochia was only known well in certain circles, but most likely the most powerful fae listed. At a close second was Aldritch; his renown and respect was widespread. Saraid was party to the coronation of Kazimir's title; not many fae who weren't considered elders received that honor. The morpher was feared in battle, a vigorous lover if she remembered correctly, but otherwise useless. Any of those three deserved their proper due, but it was doubtful that Devlin would respect their earned stations. His chances for success, and survival, had just lowered.

Milady Saraid, the second note began...

As of yet, there are only a few topics to mention, but quite interesting nonetheless.

It seems the area of Ballaghadaere is a 'thin place', and has drawn numerous fae, including three elders. I must admit, this quest is a departure from my experience thus far. With few facts, and the number of elusive fae to question, my inquiries will keep me away for longer than first assumed.

From my initial meeting with the elder Enochia, I believe there are deep machinations in play about this area. I have yet to discover the focus of these schemes or who the plotters are, but that is merely an eventuality.

The targets - the McCarthy women - have yet to be placed, so I will soon be using Verden tactics to derive their locations. I would command the local fae to give the information I seek, but they either simply don't know or are currently evading me. Never fear, I shall not be denied.

There is one last topic, and perhaps the most intriguing. There is a human named Jane McCarthy, I assume related to the McCarthy targets. She supposedly has a gift; she can create small spaces in the ether. The origin of this information came from a morpher named Gideon, although I gleaned it from the simple mind of the one called Kazimir. To my knowledge on this matter, there has of yet been no breach of our laws. I am curious as to the implications, and would value your wisdom on this subject.

Should you tire from your glens and valleys, milady, then you are welcome to visit me during my quest. I am sure I could make your time well spent. Soon enough, I shall have the grand holdings I deserve and we can continue our courtship formally.

Truly,

Devlin

Saraid was already aware of the draw about that village, but nothing else in that area had the specific beauties that drew her interest. As for machinations... Of course there were; not even elders were needed for fae games to be played. With Devlin's apparent naiveté, that place was going to swallow him whole. The thought was not troubling. Saraid only cared about further information before the foolish Fair magistrate was expelled back to the Lore, or done away with permanently.

The idea of a human with a gift was intriguing enough, but that she could create room within the ether led to interesting possibilities. Saraid would have to examine that personally; if it was worth coveting, then she alone would possess it. As Devlin had written, it was merely an eventuality.

Chapter 15

The cottage was filled with the aroma of Irish chili and the sounds of soothing instrumental music from the stereo speakers. While the dogs snoozed all around him, Brody closed his laptop and took another sip of warm tea. He glanced out the windows facing the lake, saw evening darkening an already gloomy day, and thought about his discoveries on what was the second strangest day of his life. But for what he learned about himself, unlike Kate's nimbus sight, there was no enlightenment of how it came to be.

After the encounter with more of the Other Crowd that morning, and then seeing Kate off, Brody planned to returned to his sculptures as a means of mental escape. First, though, he had to get a clear perspective of recent events if he was going to find any focus to sculpt. He sorted through his mixed emotions, acknowledging that he still felt guilt over losing his temper, and shame from lack of self-control. Then Brody thought about the circumstances that caused his heated reactions. In such a surrealistic scenario, justification was considered and finally accepted without any lingering doubts.

That new fairy, Pig-man the Barbarian (Brody couldn't recall his actual name), mentioned the 'gift of stone', which was never explained. He dwelt on those words while he looked over the big block of granite half-buried in his back lawn, and its deep finger indentations. 'How the hell did I do this?' he kept asking himself.

Brody ultimately decided that carving stone would be a positive vent for the annoyances of the Other Crowd... as long as he didn't go heaving sculptures out into the fields.

Tentative tests were made for any other implausible soft spots on the rest of the stone inventory, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Brody took a step back, both figuratively and literally, in an attempt to analyze the miraculous, unnerving event of Lorcan's second visit and the manhandling of a big block of granite.

It took him a while to remember his own lesson, when he worked with Kate back in October to bring out her fae-sight. With new but wary enthusiasm, Brody sat and loomed over another block. Instead of studying the stone, he tried to sense it. Similar to how he'd told Kate to let the description come without thought, he let his hands move of their own volition over the cut surfaces.

After taking a while to calm his nerves, Brody found success - bewildering, ominous success. He stepped away from his work and out of the shed, rubbing his hands as he tried to make sense of this new development.

Taking deep breaths, Brody once again looked at the half-planted block of stone in his lawn. Needing to make everything around him appear normal again, he had to remove the evidence of his inhuman feat of strength. Focusing once again, and with no small amount of surprise, Brody was able to lift the embedded block of granite out of the lawn, and much easier than expected.

He carried the nearly quarter-ton of granite back into the shed with only moderate effort, filled the deep dent in the lawn with garden dirt, and returned once more to explore his 'gift of stone'.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon was spent in experimentation. Most of the work to cut away excess stone for a sculpture still needed tools to do so, but Brody's newly-found skills gave other obvious advantages. Carved details that might prove difficult with rasps, chisels, and drills were completed with a focused press of his finger along a contour. The buffing and smoothing of multiple surfaces that formerly would have taken hours was reduced to minutes.

Brody was awestruck with his findings, yet simultaneously deeply troubled with their unknown origins. His gift of stone obviously imparted an amazing use for sculpting, and the strength to easily lift and manipulate stone. Beyond that, there were no explanations for how he'd come to possess it.

He eventually left the shed and went back inside. A few emails awaited him, including one from Jamal. The note started out with a good medical report from his attack weeks ago. A cursory fiscal portfolio statement was then offered, should Brody care to inspect it. He didn't. Finally were the details of Jamal and Carla's upcoming marriage, with invitations to be sent out soon. The set date for the nuptials in April was close to Kate's birthday, which meant she'd be in the states for it.

Another email was from the Irish courts; Ben Wagner would only be facing charges in the U.S. and would be held until his extradition. That might have been more interesting news if Brody hadn't lost some empathy for his cousin. Over time, Brody had come to think of Ben less as a victim and more of a greedy coward with a weak sense of morality.

Texts were traded with Simon, who promised to send more pictures of his work (beyond what was shown on his website) as soon as he could figure out the "damn camera" on his phone. Inspired, Brody took a few quick pictures of his own and sent them off to his new cousin. Those shots included the dogs, a picture of Kate he had as a screensaver, and also one of himself. That last photo came out crooked and off-center, but it would have to do. Even in such a short time, Brody had come to think highly of his no-nonsense, independent relative, and envied Kate to have her family so near.

Brody was giving the chili a cursory stir when he heard Kate's car pull up outside. After the door opened and shut, she didn't wait to take off her coat; she rushed into the kitchen and gave him a bruising hug and energetic kiss. She looked up at him with joy in her eyes. "I'm home forever, love," she said, breathless and soft.

Brody kept his hold on her alluring form and smiled down at her. "I'll never have to miss you this much ever again, darlin'."

They shared another kiss, more sensuous and lingering, before Kate was released to settle in and greet the dogs as well. While Brody served the meal, Kate gave a summary of her last day, in which she apparently did little and couldn't have cared less.

The conversation over dinner turned to the message she was given that morning from Kazimir; any further chats with Cora might have to be edited, as she might have to be made to forget any details of the Other Crowd. Both Kate and Brody were disappointed with that decision, but not entirely surprised; the fae had reason to keep their secrets secure, even if their tactics were unsavory.

As Brody gathered up the empty bowls, he said, "Okay, with you home now and things starting fresh for us, I want to make something clear." Kate looked up at him with slight concern while she helped wash the dishes. He noticed, and smiled to assure her. "It's nothing bad, darlin'."

"Ah, good," she said. "Carry on."

"Okay, you know I came here to live a simple life and do whatever made me happy. And now I have you, which makes everything better. But we seem to have an occasional fairy problem." He stopped his rinsing and turned to her. "I will not let any damn fairies keep us from being happy and living the lives we want. This whole thing is way too weird for me. If any more of 'em come around again, I'm just gonna throw them off our land. Then we'll get right back to doing our own thing, okay?"

Kate paused in patting her hands dry with a towel. "You make it sound simpler than it might truly be. However," she continued with a growing grin, "you did kick one foul best like a rugby punt, and gave a monstrous boar a puck between the eyes that nearly planted him on his hairy arse. If you're only open for invited guests, then it sounds like a grand plan, love."

"Good, I'm glad we can agree on that. Now, speaking of grand plans," Brody said as he led her to the living room, "you and I are hitting a pub tonight."

"Perfect - I was going to suggest it. I think we both could use a drink after how our day started," Kate replied as they sat next to each other.

"Couldn't agree more, but I want to talk about some stuff before we get going, okay? You know me; this is how my small mind works. I need to say it out loud and see what you think."

"Of course; I enjoy our chats, no matter how strange they may be. But," Kate said with a mischievous grin, "I don't think there's anything about you that's small."

Brody grinned and slightly blushed. "Keep your pants on 'til later, lady. Now quit distracting me."

Kate kept her grin. "Sorry, please go on."

He reached down to his side of the side of the couch and held up a small abstract stone sculpture near the size of a softball. "Tell me what you think of this, but keep in mind that I haven't applied the wax to it yet."

Kate took the smooth stone in her hands and studied it from different angles. "This is wonderful. The intricate lines really bring it to life." She glanced up at him. "Have you been working on this long?"

Brody sat back. "I made it this morning."

She looked back up questioningly. "I don't know much about the process of carving, but that's rather quick, isn't it?"

"Impossibly quick," Brody answered with a frown. He went on to explain that he did in fact have the 'gift of stone', like he was told that morning. He went on, voicing his anxiety over the lack of any rational explanation for how he acquired both the talent and feats of strength.

"You're serious..." she said after a few seconds of silence.

"Of course I am," he replied testily. "You think I'd joke about something like this? And before you ask, please don't make me prove it. Using this... whatever the hell it is, just to shape rocks? It's freaky, but I see the benefit. It's like a new, awesome tool. But that other thing, being able to lift a huge block of granite when I focus on it? That's all me - I can't pretend I'm using a tool then. It's unnatural, Kate. "

She shrugged. "What's natural or otherwise may be judged on perspective. If what you have is truly a fae gift, then some might view it as quite natural. After all, they've supposedly been around longer than regular people have, and we learned that they're considered to be creatures of nature."

"Fine," Brody responded with a frown, "maybe 'unnatural' was the wrong word to use. How about abnormal, or way, way outside the norm? You know what I mean. Not knowing where this gift of stone came from or how I got it really bothers me. Hell, I don't even know where to start looking for an answer." He sighed, slumping into the cushions. "What do I do about this?"

Kate pondered Brody's words, and then suggested, "I say enjoy it, use it for your benefit. If there's no apparent down side, besides keeping your strength in check - which you said required concentration to bring about - then it sounds to me like a good thing. Actually, I'd say a grand thing. If you're meant to know the origin, it'll come."

"Okay, good advice, but... you don't sound very surprised by this."

She set the sculpture aside and took his hand. "I'd rather use the word 'astounded', but that's mixed with the recognition of this gift's potential. I didn't realize all the benefits of my own gift until I thought them through. With yours, it can speed the process and enhance the detail of your work. In turn, you can make more pieces for the shop you hoped to open, and it would leave more time to pursue your other interests." After a moment, Kate added, "Hopefully I fall into that last category."

Brody looked off in thought. "Yeah, I guess it would, wouldn't it?" He quickly looked back at her hopeful expression, catching her last words. "Kate, you're at the top of every list I have."

"You can say that as often as you'd like," she said softly.

He took a moment to gaze into her deep, beautiful eyes and then resettled on the couch. "Before we switch to a much better topic, I need to know if you can come up with an explanation for it. I sure can't. I mean, this whole gift thing starts with the Other Crowd, and I really don't want anything to do with them. Now, we know where yours comes from. I mean your granddad, lightning-bolt Lurch. But I knew my grandparents, sort of, and none of them were fantasy creatures with freaky eyes. If this is some fairy gift, I'd rather not have it."

"I understand your feelings." Kate absently caressed his hand while she mulled the situation over. "I'd imagine you'd remember making any deals where they'd grant you these powers for a price, or some off-hand request with payment at a later date."

"Nope, there's no way in hell I'd even come close to making a deal with them."

She nodded. "So, you've been given a gift. You don't know who granted it, or when, or why; 'how' is the least of the questions. Your extraordinary talents could have lain dormant until now for some reason. You could even have been born with it somehow. Did your parents ever show any signs of something... special?"

Brody shook his head. "They were just great people, and completely normal."

Kate put a finger to her chin. "The only coincidences I can see are that you got a job in masonry, and you excelled at it. Then you wanted to try sculpture." She looked at the stone figure again and then back to him. "You seem to have a knack for that as well. You might say you're drawn to it. And, as of yet, you've seen no side-effects in using the gift to the degree you have, yes?"

"Nothing that I've seen, at least not yet," Brody confirmed. "But that Kaz dude said the words, 'gift of stone', and he turned out to be right. So they have that gift too, or some of 'em, or they can just give out magic abilities like they're candy, or something. Shit, how does it work?"

"Love, I know just as much - or little - as you. All we truly know is that you've discovered something special within yourself, and thus far it comes with no debt or repercussion. I suggest not worrying about the unknown until it becomes necessary, which may be never. Take advantage of it."

Brody looked at Kate with a smile forming on his face. "Damn, I love that logical mind of yours. I'm so glad I moved all the way to Ireland to find you."

Kate grinned in return and lightly slapped his thigh. "Oh shut it, smooth talker. I'm just happy I can help you. Do you feel more at ease about all of this now?"

"Yeah, I do, thanks. I'll just have to get used to it." He sat a little straighter. "Okay, let's move on. I had a few more things on my mind, and we'll hurry right through 'em."

"At your leisure," Kate said while she scratched Pearl behind her fuzzy ears.

"Okay, first... After a bit more research, I don't think sheep or goats would be the best move. They're more work than other animals. I'll talk with your dad about this, of course. But if I'm right, then that just means more donkeys for you. And I promise you'll have at least two waiting for you when you gals get back from your shopping tomorrow."

Kate's beaming grin was infectious. Brody loved making her happy, more than anything else he could think of. "Now I almost don't want to go," she said. "I'll be squirming to get home the entire time."

"Nah, go enjoy yourself and have fun." Brody got up and went to the kitchen. He called out, "The next couple of ideas need to be discussed to make sure you won't mind them."

"Then let's hear them."

"Well, I wanted to keep in touch with my American roots, and the Thanksgiving holiday is this coming Thursday." He filled the dog bowls and then fetched mugs of tea. "I want to invite people over for a big turkey meal, but not just family. I also wanted to invite Father Doyle, your friend Mary from the bank, Archie and Flinn, Alana, and even our neighbors just up the lane, the Moynihan's. Um, George and Ruby, I think. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like great craic." Kate smiled in thanks as she was handed a warm, full mug. "It also sounds like some of us will be sitting out on the patio, eating turkey in the cold."

Brody carefully sat with his full mug. "Not a problem. I'll just borrow a couple tables from the church rectory. We can make it work if you're on board. Would you mind helping me out? You're the better cook, anyway."

Kate gave him a sharp look. "Flattery, is it? If I find myself in the kitchen cooking your meal while you're here on the couch with the other gents watching a match on the telly, then make yourself comfortable; it's where you'll be sleeping that night," she ended with a grin.

He grinned back and put up a placating hand. "I promise to do most of the cooking."

"Fair enough, then. I'll start inviting tomorrow."

Brody nodded. "Here's the next thing, and it might be a bigger deal. I want to invite my cousin Simon out for Christmas. We've been talking a bit, and he hasn't mentioned anyone; not friends, no special someone, nobody. I think he might be all by himself, which would especially suck on holidays. And besides, I really want to meet him in person."

Kate took a sip before saying, "That's a fine offer. Do you know him well enough to make that kind of invitation, both for his sake and yours? I know he must be higher caliber than the Wagner's, but you haven't known him for long at all, Brody. I don't want to see this fall flat for you."

"I see what you're saying, but I want to trust my instincts on this. Besides that he's the only real family I have, we sorta clicked from the start. Simon seems like a good guy, someone who I could call a close friend. I just get that feeling. But I do see your point, so how about I wait asking him to visit until Thursday? We'll talk some more before then and I'll see how I feel at that point, fair enough?"

"Love, I think you should follow your instincts, as you said. You do whatever you think is right, and I'll stand with you. I'm only thinking of you first, as I always will."

Brody shook his head. "No, I think any time before Thursday might be too soon for him. I don't want to make him too uncomfortable."

"True, a premature offer might make him uneasy. Then again, such an offer would make even close kin feel a bit out of sorts. So if he hesitates, you just insist. I'd like to meet your family."

As he stood, Brody said, "I'm glad to hear it." He then offered his hand.

Kate took it and stood up as well. "What are we doing?"

Brody moved closer and slowly began tasting her neck. Kate moaned and pressed into him while his arms encircled her. His lips brushed against her ear before he whispered, "I have one more idea. I'll tell it to you in the bedroom."

Chapter 16

The tiny creature bellowed with a shrill voice when it was once again snipped in the head by a comparatively huge finger. Tied to a plant root that protruded into the shallow earthen cave, it fell slack in its rough twine bindings. The bound creature was called a flitter, a common Lore creature sometimes compared to Verden vermin, except in miniature human form with moth wings. Much to its dismay, Lorcan had caught it near the border of his small holdings.

As soon as the flitter regained its senses and began struggling again, it received another stunning flick to the head. Tormenting the helpless creature was merely a diversion for Lorcan, and an outlet to vent his frustrations. Also, it was fun to him. And he had so little fun as of late.

Lorcan was under the oracle's power for four successful errands, and the first was an abject failure. He rubbed his face again to make sure the swelling had been completely willed away, but his left eye was still a bit blurry. He could only assume that Lynch was a strong fae living as a human, which would explain his terrible strength. The redcap wondered if Enochia knew that before sending him. And he was only sent to warn Lynch of a girl? With what he'd seen, and felt, some silly lass would be of little concern to that one.

So, in Lore swamplands that he called home, under a perpetually bruised evening sky, Lorcan sat in his damp little earthen cave and brooded. His thoughts of petty retributions were interrupted by another mental call from the oracle. He sullenly stood, hatefully reminded of his servitude.

With a childish snarl, Lorcan stomped on the dizzy flitter with an oversized muck boot. He left it to die a slow, painful death and instant-traveled to Enochia's dusty parlor.

"So, you failed; pity."

The redcap had barely arrived when he heard the familiar voice filled with contempt. "You were simply to deliver a message," Enochia went on, "the most modest of chores. Out of compassion, I thought to give you humble duties to complete your time with me. I see that I have overestimated you. I could have sent an old pixie in your stead and gotten better results."

Lorcan sneered at Enochia as she sat complacently at her table, as she always did. On the draped, circular table was the tiniest china serving set he'd ever seen, but paid it little mind. "I was sent to converse with an irate slummer! What did you expect?"

Enochia frowned. "A slummer... Do you mean to tell me that Mr. Lynch is fae, masquerading as a human? I find that hard to believe, unless he is extremely adept and convincing."

"He threw a huge rock at me!" Lorcan exclaimed as he hovered a few feet into the air "And he had defenses. I threw a quick nudge his way, and he didn't even blink." That was a brazen lie, but he didn't expect the oracle to pick his brain over a minor fabrication. "I barely escaped, so I don't think that chore should count."

Thin eyebrows rose over azure blue eyes. "Think again; it was a failed attempt for a simplistic task, and therefore your number has risen from four to five." Enochia raised a four-fingered hand to stop Lorcan's impending objection. "However, I have another immediate task, simple and safe, to reduce your tally back to four. So you see, I can be kind and forgive your ineptitude."

The remark grated on the little fae, but he knew better than to cross verbal swords with the oracle. "What is it?" he asked with a soured expression.

"There is a tinker - a brownie - I wish you to bring back here to me. She has already been contacted and awaits your arrival for transportation. She is at the Ballaghadaere day care center, in the toy room."

Lorcan's over-wide mouth formed a grin. "With tikes about?" he asked, thinking that nudging even children would keep him in form.

"You expect to see children there in the middle of the night?" Enochia asked scornfully. "I think the residents care enough about their young ones not to leave any behind to fend for themselves over a Verden weekend."

"Oh, right. So that's it? That's all you need?"

"Yes, if you can manage the task. And now would be good."

Lorcan immediately vanished. Enochia carefully poured warm tea into the miniscule cups, and wondered how her next meeting might play out, not having foreseen it. If naught else, the pleasant company would be a welcome change.

The little redcap reappeared at the far end of the room with an even smaller fae in his grasp. He shoved the tiny woman roughly away from him and faced the oracle. "There you are - the brownie you asked for. This brings us back to four, correct?"

Enochia nodded, and Lorcan vanished again. She then looked over and down at her new visitor, who was dusting herself off. "I do apologize; it is so difficult to find good help these days. Please, come near and join me for tea."

The tiny fae levitated over to stand on the far side of the table top. Only a foot tall, the brownie nonetheless resembled a human woman. A faded grey headscarf mostly covered her pastel blue and grey hair. Light blue eyes sat in a pleasant, middle-aged face. Her dress was a busy floral print with a neutral background, and rested comfortably over her thick hips. Over that was a dark grey apron, which matched her worn gloves and boots.

The tea cup was still huge to the brownie, comparatively the size of a bucket to a human, but Enochia had nothing smaller. The small fae approached the cup slowly, took in the aroma, and then picked it up with ease. She took a sip, set it back down, and looked back up at her host with a small smile. Her dimples reflected an affable personality and made her appear younger. "Thank ye, ma'am."

Enochia took a sip of her own. "You're quite welcome. Again, I apologize for your shabby treatment at my servant's hands, but his skills were necessary to carry you to my private haven. I promise to give you your due respect from this moment on. You are welcome here."

The brownie curtsied. "I'm honored, ma'am."

It occurred to Enochia that perhaps more than just a glimpse of far-sight might have been prudent beforehand. Brownies were known to be passive and genteel folk, drawn to humans in need and helpful in a household, as their broad title, 'tinker', implied. The little one's presence was also a reminder that size had no bearing on the power or range of gifts she wielded. Enochia had only vague knowledge of this particular fae, but her name had been mentioned with warm respect by Oriana in passing. "The honor is mine. You go by the name Liadan?"

"That I do, ma'am."

The oracle nodded. "Well met, Liadan. I am Enochia of Eight. I'm glad you agreed to meet with me." She watched the brownie take another sip. "Is the tea to your liking? Your kind has a reputation for literal taste and skill in a kitchen, so I hope it doesn't offend your palette."

"It'll do fine as it is, ma'am, thank ye."

As she reclined into her high-backed chair, Enochia asked, "Forgive my ignorance, but have you taken haven hereabouts? You're mentioned by Oriana to be a long-standing face in these parts."

Liadan gave another dimpled smile. "I'd not take ye for ignorant, ma'am, even though I know of ye by reputation only." She set her large cup down and began working out a wrinkle of the tablecloth with her foot. "As for havens, I always be thinking of one when I finish this chore or that, but I normally just retire back to the Lore for a spell before returning. I've made a few fae-bridges about the lovely village, so it's no grand inconvenience." She looked up after smoothing the cloth. "Sorry, ma'am - habit. And now what of your own self; do ye get back to Lore holdings often?"

Enochia set down her cup. "Oh, my travels aren't noteworthy. Besides, I was hoping to learn more of you and possibly offer a pact, one that would appeal to you, should you be willing."

With a head tilted in possible interest, Liadan replied, "I've not entered into many pacts, ma'am. Me services tend to be a bit simple and rustic for most."

"Perhaps, but only to those in need of exotic abilities," Enochia replied casually. "For what I have in mind, I believe there'd be no finer choice than you. If I may ask, Liadan, have you been visiting Ballaghadaere for a time?"

"Oh to be sure, ma'am, I've been coming to the area for long and long, and the village is soft in me heart. I found it in me travels long before it be named. It was the coastal villages I used to assist, but I then followed the Vikings when they raided inland. There were many who needed infection pulled and a touch of healing help from dirty blades and open wounds. I did the same during the time of Brian Boru and that bloody mess. I stayed in this part of the land through famines and drought - and that dry spell in 1575 got right ugly, I can say for fact - all the way up to the 'ere an' now. So, to answer if I've been here 'for a time'; yes ma'am, ye could say that. Excepting maybe one other good fae, I might be the one who's been about Ballaghadaere the longest."

Enochia smiled and set her cup down. "Then you know the area well, perhaps better than any other. Tell me, do you know of a cottage just to the north, along the shore of Lough Gaell? It was, until recently, the Finnegan home?"

Liadan poured a drip of milk in her cup. "Aye, I know the Finnegan place well enough. I gave a hand on occasion to Michael and Maira when they started feeling age in their bones. A good man, Michael was, and kind to his wife. And poor, lonely Maira after he passed; I kept her necessaries in fair shape, but it was Oriana who looked after the widow in the end." Liadan then added a healthy scoop of sugar to her tea. "And ye say that the place has changed hands? I suppose it has been some little time since last I visited there." After she stirred and sipped, Liadan added a few large drops of honey to her cup.

Unable to suppress a smirk, Enochia said, "I suppose my brewing skill needs work."

Liadan looked up as she gave one last stir with a big spoon. "Not at all, ma'am," she said politely. "It only needed a touch of... everything."

Enochia found herself truly enjoying the tiny fae's company. Liadan put on no airs to bolster herself as the guest of an elder, nor did she cower in fear of reprisal. The brownie displayed etiquette with a casual flare, and was entertaining in conversation. Enochia thought that Liadan was well-suited for the offer in mind.

With the comfort to strike an informal pose, the normally-proper Drommen elder leaned forward with elbows on the table, and rested her chin on interlaced fingers. "Liadan, if you have no other pressing matters, I would like to offer you a pact. Perhaps with circumstances you haven't dealt with before. I wish you to return to that cottage, now known as the Lynch cottage, and give assistance."

"They're in a bad way, then, ma'am?" Liadan asked over her cup.

"Actually, the couple gets by quite well, from what I hear. The place is now home to Brody Lynch and Kate McCarthy, and those two are special. I believe Mr. Lynch has been fully graced - almost unheard of in the last few centuries - and by an elder, no less. Not to be outdone, Miss McCarthy has a form of fae-sight, more than likely from breeding. They are both aware of us. Attempts to rectify that have been tried and failed."

Liadan's eyes grew wider as her host spoke. "By the elements, what a pair," she said. "And yet their home falls to ruin? Is that how I might be needed to aid such a capable couple?"

"Well, no, not in any necessary capacity. You'd be acting as more of a fae ambassador, when the time arises." Enochia sighed. "You see, they've had encounters with a few of our kind recently, and they've been left with poor examples and hard feelings. Now, I would only expect you to carry on any duties that are in your nature while there, but I'd hope that you would be a better example. You might even give counsel, should they ask. We can't repair this breach of Enigma in any case, so more information given to them couldn't hurt. It might soften their views, but I'd leave that to your discretion. The couple might prove convenient allies in the future."

Liadan shook her head in wonder. "That might be the strangest situation I've ever heard of." She looked up at Enochia. "And what if they simply fail to notice me, even after a time? I won't go putting meself on display, ma'am. What's more, if there's little or naught to mend, then I'd be taking poor satisfaction from the whole affair."

Enochia sat back with her hands in her lap. "As to the first; if you run out of chores to accomplish and they fail to notice you, then your part of the pact will be considered met and you may move on. And while they may keep the cottage and lands in good repair, I am told that that the couple and their holdings give off more than their fair share of glamour, which may appease you. Beyond that, I would wish regular updates, and ask for a small request here or there along the way."

The brownie nodded in vague approval and then drained her large cup of tea. She dabbed her lips with her apron and asked, "That could turn into quite the endeavor, and with a responsibility set upon me shoulders. Might I ask your offer, ma'am?"

"I propose a haven that would suit your needs," Enochia answered. "The place I have in mind sits on derelict property, behind a rural home, but reasonably close to the village. I will even glamour it; should anyone take ownership of the property in the future, they will remain ignorant of you. Any fae-bridge you desire from there will be left to you - I'm sure you're more adept at creating them than I am. Does this sound fair?"

"As far as I can tell, aye, it does," the brownie answered, nodding. "When would we both set forth to complete our own parts of this pact?"

"Is tomorrow too soon for you, Liadan?"

The tiny fae brightened with her charming dimples. "Never a slacker have I been called. The morrow sounds grand."

Enochia nodded. "Then let it be done and so. This is a bound pact, and may we both benefit from it."

Chapter 17

Brody drove toward Ballaghadaere under partly cloudy skies on Saturday morning, with the air brisk and breezy. A gentle smile curled his lips as he recalled the night before. After seeing selflessly to Kate's cravings and receiving her breathless appreciation, they prepared for a night out.

It was 'great craic', as some of the locals would have put it. The gathering at Gil's pub was as lively and fun as anything Brody could remember. A few local musicians played a handful of upbeat tunes (the new piano was an improvement over the old, damaged one), but the evening was otherwise spent with laughter, amusing stories, gossip, and alcohol.

It was a nice surprise to see Liam and Cora there, and even better when Kate discreetly found that her mother's memories were still intact. Brody remembered the crowd noise lowering when the Kelly brothers walked in, but the gaiety resumed after seeing them approach him with hands offered in peace. Brody was glad not to have enemies, and the Kelly brothers were more truly victims of Lorcan's schemes than his cousin Ben ever was.

Old Archie and Flinn made conversation of the new game fields and recent church-sponsored updates around the village, eyeing Brody knowingly as they did so. Brody knew they were good friends with Father Doyle, who might have let some news slip out. The two older gents didn't go beyond that, so there was little worry of it becoming general information.

Brody was introduced to a number of townsfolk through Liam, Kate, and the old-timers up at the bar. Only a few acted reservedly from the latest news of him, but most followed Liam's and the others' endorsement and greeted Brody amicably.

A large round of whiskey shots that were intended for Kate's 'early retirement' were superseded by a tipsy Cora with her own toast. "A man worth his salt, is this bloke", declared Kate's mother to Brody, which came as surprise to him as well as many others; Cora didn't openly sign off on many. Alana murmured that it only took five drinks and an attempted murder for her acceptance of him.

Near the end of their evening, Brody and Kate offered some quiet invitations for their Thanksgiving meal, all of which were happily accepted. Only a few calls were needed to complete the list of those yet to be invited.

Brody brought Kate home safely while she kept repeating that she was "deliriously happy". He barely had time to get her to take aspirins and juice, to reduce her impending hangover, before she was out like a light. Kate was nursing a small headache in the morning but asked for a long, silent hug before Brody left the cottage for his self-appointed errands.

Over coffee and toast, Liam gave Brody further education and insight of farm animals. While Liam was in a great mood and none the worse from the night before, Cora was still asleep, so their tone was hushed. Liam made some calls while Brody invited Jane to come along to go look at donkeys for sale. She happily accepted.

Time at the seller's farm was split between joining Kate's dad as he inspected animals, and following Jane's example while she offered apples to the various equines. A jenny and her nearly-grown foal were finally chosen, and extra cash was given for the farmer to deliver them. Rather than try to find the cottage, the farmer asked them to wait and he'd follow Brody back.

After the donkeys were delivered and Liam confirmed that the other big, open-faced stone shed was more than enough shelter, Brody drove them back home. With his mention that he was going to get two more, Jane asked to go. It was fine with Brody; he'd be happy for the company, and Jane's mom could take her home when the ladies returned from their shopping.

The next drive of the morning was to the animal shelter, where Brody's dogs had come from. It was a bit further out, which gave Jane time to complain about not having a car of her own, and that she was still deciding which university to choose after she finished secondary in the spring. It gave Brody more insights into the young lady, and how different she and her older sister were.

While Jane spent time with a number of animals at the shelter, Brody visited with the management and handlers. He gave updates on the dogs, and showed a few pictures of them he had on his phone. Then they all went out to get a better look at two young gelded jacks who grazed together. The donkeys were a smaller breed, like the two females at home, and they all differed enough in color that he could easily tell them apart. The jacks were quiet and friendly, and shown to be in good shape. Brody felt confident that Kate would love them.

As with the farmer, he paid extra to have employees follow him back with the donkeys in a trailer. On a whim, he bought more supplies and invited some of the staff along as well, offering them a simple lunch and to visit the dogs. Since Jane already had her permit, Brody let her drive them back to his cottage. On two different occasions, he almost regretted that choice.

Sandwiches were enjoyed by the handful of shelter employees, who took Brody up on his offer. They watched the four donkeys mingle and inspect their new home, and then said their farewells. Brody sent a few pictures of the donkeys to his friend Jamal and his cousin Simon, just to let them know he was happily becoming a hick.

In a phone conversation with Kate just after, Brody learned that she, her mother, and Alana might be a bit late from their shopping excursion. After some logistic planning and more phone calls, all of the women were invited to stay for dinner when they got in.

Brody left Jane in care of the cottage while he saw to his other major task of the day. In the church parking lot as planned, he met with Father Doyle and the surveyor from McMillan Construction, Keenan Moore. The aging priest said he had a few paid hands to help unload the truckload of toys that would be arriving soon, so Brody was free of that chore.

Keenan was a capable man in his late thirties who knew his business well. Brody knew just enough about construction from working in a related field to know that Keenan was being honest as they went from property to property and made assessments. For the homes that were in better repair or already visited by the church labor crew, Brody took numerous pictures. They got back to the church parking lot and made arrangements for a McMillan crew to begin work first thing Monday, and Keenan promised to send updates of progress.

There was enough time when Brody returned home to begin dinner, with Jane as a willing assistant. After chicken was seasoned and set to bake, they pulled some hearty vegetables from the garden to accompany it. With all the side dishes cleaned, prepared, and set to a simmer, Brody and Jane spent more time in the fields with the donkeys, and discussed names for the new animals.

Only a few minutes after they stepped into the paddocks, Alana's car pulled into the drive. Followed by Cora and Alana, Kate ventured into the fields to greet her new pets and her man, in that order.

They all went inside to escape any more of the blustery day, and didn't have to wait long for dinner. In Brody's mind, the 'Great November Chinwag' commenced as soon as Kate's shopping bags were unloaded. He attempted to see to the meal, but the women took over, all the while in conversation. The topics went from sights seen in Castlebar while they shopped, to the upcoming Thanksgiving meal, to events of the night before at the pub. Brody wondered what the women chatted about while they were out, or if they saved up conversational energy to release it over dinner.

He found himself surrounded by estrogen-fueled banter; even Honey and Pearl were in attendance. Keller took a pass and escaped for a nap in one of the bedrooms. That dog was wise beyond his young age. Brody wasn't sure if his own escape would appear rude, so he endured.

While Jane passed out plates of store-bought Irish coffee cake for dessert, she had a good idea for naming the donkeys. Inspired by items seen in the pantry, she suggested names that correlated to the animals' coloring. For the mostly-white jenny, the name 'Sugar' was given, and her bay dun foal was 'Cinnamon'. One of the two jacks from the animal shelter was a black with white points, and the other was full brown, so the names 'Pepper' and 'Cocoa' were proposed.

Kate loved the names, and Brody thought they were clever and easy to remember, so the donkeys were saved from possibly ridiculous monikers.

Cora and Jane left soon after dessert; the elder demurely thanked Brody for the meal, and the younger cheerfully thanked him for the fun day. On the way out, Brody teased Jane that she was welcome to bring a date to his Thursday meal. One thing Jane did have in common with Kate was her blush. Alana was welcomed to stay a bit longer; there were obviously further topics to be discussed between her and Kate.

Brody left them to their continued chat to edit newly-purchased house pictures on the computer. After burning a disc and putting it in his travel case, he heard the two friends still in animated conversation, and so Alana was invited to make an evening of it and stay over.

By the end of that long day, both Brody and Kate were ready for sleep. They made sure Alana was comfortable, and promised her a breakfast before she left in the morning. Finally snug under their own bedcovers, Kate thanked Brody once more for the donkeys. She then admitted to making extensive use of her new bank card, but then used that as an excuse to lightly admonish Brody for not giving her a Christmas list.

After Brody reminded Kate of their trip to Sligo town early Monday morning, they quietly discussed any other upcoming plans before they both eased into sleep in a warm embrace.

***

Stout fingers ran along the screen of the computer monitor, testing the texture of the strange surface. Kazimir couldn't understand humans and their strange magic, nor did he care to learn. Some of their ways were just too alien, and he usually had better things to do.

He looked over at Gideon, who was leafing through a journal at the desk. Kazimir leaned back in the office chair as it groaned under his weight, looking around at the feminine décor of the bedroom. He sighed at being so out of his element. "So, Gideon," he finally said with his rough voice, interrupting the other's investigation, "it concerns me to see you scouring through a girl's journal like an insecure suitor. Surely you didn't ask me here for advice on romancing a human?"

Gideon stopped his perusal. "What?" He turned to Kazimir. "No, of course not brother; I care for the girl in only a protective sense, I do. I only be making sure nothing... out of sorts be making its way in to lil' Jane's diary, I tell ya true." He shut the book and turned to the big morpher. "Me request to chat with ye had to do with keeping her safe."

Kazimir frowned. "As I told someone earlier, I'm not the one to carry out sentry duties, little brother. For you or another brother or sister, I might agree to it. But not for a human, no matter how special she might be."

The small morpher shook his head as he said, "That not be my intent, brother; I know ye you're your freedom to meet challenges and uphold yourgood name, I surely do. I only be askin' that ye keep any words of lil' Jane away from others' ears, I would. Like I be sayin', protective, I am."

"Are you sure that is all that makes you ask this?"

Gideon nodded his head solemnly. "She be just an innocent, brother. No longer a child is she, but not of age for wisdom... as much as her kind can have, anyway."

Kazimir sat forward, which made the chair groan again. "Have no fear, friend Gideon. Besides the elder Aldritch, I had no intentions of bartering that information out."

"I ask ya kindly," Gideon said with a hopeful smile, "not even to his ears would her story reach, I be askin' of ye."

With mild surprise, Kazimir asked, "Not even him? I believe Aldritch has some sort of investment with this household. I am sure he has no dark heart for any here."

Gideon wrung his hands. "I know, brother Kazimir, I surely do. But that elder's motive's be remainin' all his own, they do. And me not knowin' of such, I be worryin' that he might be usin' lil' Jane's gift for a benefit that not be her own, says I."

Before Kazimir could answer, they heard the mother and daughter enter the house downstairs, with conversations being had between them and the man of the home.

The big morpher stood and looked back at Gideon, with his frizzy hair, handsome sheep horns, and worried face. Kazimir gave a small grin and nod. "Concern yourself no longer, brother. While I had planned to barter her story to the elder dryad, I can easily sell him another story." He straightened his heavy fur vest. "I'll take my leave of you now, but I will not be far should the magistrate trouble you again, at least for a while."

Gideon stood and bowed. "Right kind of ye, brother, it is, says I."

Kazimir made a few strides toward the bedroom door, but then stopped and turned around. "And in the business of keeping safe, keep yourself away from the holder of the lakeside cottage to the north; else you might be a pot of lamb stew over that man's fire."

Chapter 18

Practiced, gloved hands spread the fertilizer around the plant stems in the garden. Liadan stood back up as she brushed her hands together and took a moment to take in the bright and clear dawn. The air was crisp, full of the scents of morning dew, equines, and rich earth.

The property - the Lynch cottage - was well-kept and aesthetic, with paddocks mostly to the north and south of the kept grounds. Only one of the fields, the one at the front of the home, had no lake access, but all were in fine form. Any repairs Liadan would make were minor, and she thought her time at that location might be short.

She had only taken a few steps back in the direction of the enclosed compost when she happened to notice movement at the house. The man, Lynch, had stepped out the back door as his dogs streamed out around him. The house was still dark, so the lady of the home must still have been in slumber.

Liadan watched as the big man strolled around the nearby property, but kept the dogs separate from the donkeys. When he went for a jog back and forth along the lake shore with the dogs loping along in tow, the brownie resumed her chores.

Humming a tune, Liadan was packing daub into the larger gaps of a stone wall when she saw Lynch approach her general direction. He went into the far side of his open shelter where he kept more work-out equipment, next to a stack of peat logs. The wheat-colored dog stayed with him; the other two had since returned to the cottage.

The little fae glided airborne nearby and watched Lynch as he lay back on a padded bench and began lifting the weights with ease. He soon locked more circular loads onto the bar, and had to exert some force to lift the ponderous weight. After other similar exercises, Lynch walked back out to the other stone shed in a far paddock, receiving a bray of greeting from one of the donkeys along the way.

Lynch was a large human and well-developed, but Liadan didn't see the proud arrogance in him that she might in most warriors. To her, the big man seemed calm, self-possessed, and only took pride in his simple labors... at least, thus far. She had only been on the property for a few short hours, and was still in the process of evaluation - Lynch included.

Until more time was given to gauge him and the McCarthy woman for their temperaments, Liadan would keep herself hidden. She had to remind herself that hiding from the woman's sight meant actual, literal concealment, which she never needed to do before. It might be a bit of a challenge, but it wouldn't have to last long.

A light came on in the house, and the lady Kate soon after made her way outside. Liadan, erring on the side of caution, ducked around a field wall and poked her head out to watch. The McCarthy woman was a slender lass, but with obvious feminine curves. Radiant dark red hair shone in the morning sun, swaying as she hurried to greet Lynch lovingly, and then more tenderly made her way to each donkey.

After the two humans gained more trust with the animals by offering handfuls of oats and an apple for each, they walked hand in hand back indoors. Even through shut windows and closed doors, Liadan soon detected the aromas of bacon and toast.

If first impressions carried, the pair appeared to be quite content and highly enamored of each other, which might serve Liadan well. The presence of one with the other might reign their tempers, rather than fuel them, when they came to find yet another fae in their midst. Less relaxed humans would be quicker to offense, and she hoped to play to the couples' sense of reason before any dark feelings took root.

As Liadan wiped her hands on her apron, she saw a line of dark clouds approaching from the west, and tried not to see it as an omen.

***

Brody frowned as he faced the mirror, and once again shrugged his shoulders to make the formerly comfortable dress shirt sit properly. "No, I don't have anything like that," he said, carrying on the conversation he was having through the Bluetooth, "I just have the two standard rasps."

He had been having a quick chat with Simon that Sunday morning after cleaning up from his early chores. During his phone conversation, he smelt the breakfast Kate and Alana were cooking and wanted off the line. He and his cousin had gotten onto the subject of masonry tools, which Brody was interested to discuss further, but he was also starving.

"Hey cuz, I need food in my belly, and you need to hit the sack." There was another pause of listening while he strained the shirt to button around his chest. "Alright, man, cool - I'll talk to you later on." Brody frowned again at the reflection, and then made his way out of his bedroom and followed the aromas to the kitchen.

Kate was in a wonderful mood that morning, and decided to treat Alana and Brody to a good breakfast. Alana, knowing she didn't have Kate's skill in a kitchen, still chipped in with some of the simpler duties. The air was filled with a variety of delicious scents as Kate tended to multiple pans and griddles. Alana was setting cups out and Kate was flipping rashers when their attention was brought to Brody.

As he walked in, wearing only sweatpants and a half-buttoned shirt, he inquired, "Darlin', did you wash this shirt in hot water?" Brody's head was down, watching his big fingers fumble with a button. When he didn't get an immediate reply, he looked up. Kate and Alana were frozen in place, staring at him. "What?" he asked.

Brought out of her gaze by the sizzle of the food in front of her, Kate stammered, "Eh, no, love; you, em... you know I'm careful with the loads."

Brody looked down again at his shirt, flexing and squirming at its uncomfortably snug fit. "Yeah, you are, sorry to ask. It's just that it feels a size smaller now." He looked back up when Alana make a soft grunting sigh. "You okay?"

From the kitchen table, Alana waved him off nonchalantly. "Just a trifle; I think I sat on a sponge."

Kate quickly interjected. "Brody," she began, shifting his curious look from Alana to her, "have you been working out more? I hadn't noticed much until now, but you look... bigger." She felt her blush rise to her cheeks. "I mean to say - no complaints, love, but you might need larger sizes if you keep adding muscle."

Brody glanced back down, and then back to Kate; her face was smiling and embarrassed, but her eyes held a meaningful look. The mostly-cardiovascular workouts and much healthier food should have been trimming Brody, not adding muscle and size. With logical assumptions ruled out, he quickly caught on; the extra bulk and definition must have been a side-effect of his own recently discovered 'gift of stone'. "Ah... you're probably right. I'll just go change real fast - be right back."

Kate returned to tending to the various foods and waited for the inevitable. "Jaysus, Katie, why do you let him leave the house?" Alana asked rhetorically. "Now I understand the big meals. You need to keep your strength up."

While Kate moved the food to serving plates, keeping her back to her friend to hide her red cheeks, she said, "You're incorrigible, Lana."

"Seriously, I'd slap my mam to be that shirt. Better yet, I'd slap yours."

Brody soon returned with a full sweat suit on just as breakfast was served. Everyone had their fill and enjoyed Alana's colorful stories during and after the meal. Noticing the time, their guest made her temporary farewell, and said she'd see them at church in a couple of hours if the rain didn't wash it away. After they watched Alana pull away into the foggy, wet morning, Kate boldly relented to urges and initiated a brief but intense carnal interlude with her brawny lover in the entry hall.

After a few handshakes and short greetings once inside the big Ballaghadaere cathedral, Brody and Kate sat next to Liam and Cora, with the other McCarthy's in the next pew forward. He and Kate's father sat next to each other and discussed the donkeys until Cora brought the church bulletin to their attention. In its community notes, there were accounts of parishioners who found that their mortgage debt had been paid by anonymous benefactors.

Also mentioned in the bulletin was the huge donation, again by persons unknown, of toys for the Christmas drive. Any families in financial strain were welcomed to meet with the pastor discreetly for anything they might need. For the sermon, Father Doyle talked of the kindness of strangers, and of answered prayers. Brody noticed that Kate was euphoric throughout the service.

When mass concluded, Brody and Kate made the last of their invitations for the big Thursday meal. Talking with his neighbors George and Ruby Moynihan after they accepted the invitation, Brody made a deal with them for a small amount of their hay and barley harvests. They would have sold off those crops anyway, and Brody had new pets to feed.

Kate spoke with Father Doyle about tables; he told her he'd bring some with him on Thursday. Brody and Kate begged off lunch at Gil's pub from various invitations, said their farewells, and ran out to their car in the cold, pouring rain.

Kate hurried out to check on her new pets while Brody got the fireplace going and began making hot chocolate. After returning and hanging her rain gear, Kate retrieved both of their laptops from the office and waited for him on the couch while she soaked up heat from the fire. Brody carried in two large, steaming mugs and they both settled in comfortably next to each other.

"Very well," Kate said after a sip, "would you like to begin, or shall I?"

"Normally, I'd say ladies first, but I have a few little ideas before we both reveal our big plans, okay?"

"Sure," she nodded with a grin, "but I didn't know you had opening acts before your finale. Now I feel unprepared."

Brody feigned offense. "I offer my apologies, madam. Now, if you're done being sassy, these little ideas need your full consent, mostly because they involve your family."

"Let me guess... You'd like to sell them for medical experiments?"

With a chuckle, Brody responded, "Uh, no."

"Aw, that's too bad," Kate said with a mock frown. "I would have said no to dear da and my oul wan, but I'm betting we could get a few fair bob for Jane."

Brody's grin grew even wider. "I bet we could, but I actually had something better in mind for her. The other day, Jane talked about not having a car and going off to university. I remember you telling me that your dad getting sick set them back financially, right?"

"True, although insurance covered most of his health bills. Still, I think they have enough to help with the cost of uni." Kate took a quieter tone. "Love, I hope you're not thinking about paying off the rest of her school expenses. Da's pride wouldn't allow it."

After a sip from his mug, Brody gave a small shake of his head. "No, I wasn't thinking that. But I do know she needs a car. I bet we could find something used but reliable for her tomorrow, and I'll just follow you home in it. We can keep it out in the garage until her birthday next week. Or maybe not even wait, and give it to her Thursday. Would that be alright with your parents?"

Kate pursed her lips. "Hmm... I'm sure mam would have her reservations, and da would wonder if it wasn't too much of a gift. But you could tell them you haggle well and got it cheap."

"Well, I'm not bad at haggling, but that's beside the point. Is this a good idea or not?"

"I think we'll have to fend Jane off with brooms for wanting to hug us time and time again. I think it's a brilliant idea."

"Okay, cool." Brody blew off some cup steam, took a gulp, and then said, "The other idea has to do with Christmas. I thought that we could offer everyone babysitting service."

Kate frowned. "Alright, now explain that."

Brody grinned at his own idea and Kate's confusion. "Okay, here's the plan. For Christmas, we get your parents a nice vacation package, like to Greece. I remember your mom saying to your dad a while back that she wanted to go there. They'd probably worry about Jane being on her own if she wasn't away at school yet, so we'll offer for her to stay with us. You wouldn't mind that, would you?"

Kate's face lit up. "I love that idea, and Jane staying here is fine by me, especially since she'll have her own car." She shook her head. "And to think I was only going to get her a new Sunday dress."

"Glad you like it, because I had something similar in mind for Jack and Fiona. For them, though, we get some fancy Ireland resort deal with one of those balloon rides. Of course, we'd watch the kids, but I refuse to have a doll party with Ella. "

Kate chuckled. "I'll only agree to that if we can do the same thing ourselves sometime!"

Brody caught her infectious grin. "I was thinking the same thing when I got the idea." He drained his cup and sat back. "Okay, that was my little stuff. Now show me what you've been working on, my sexy lady. Wow me."

Kate began with their basic ideas of both investing money and anonymous community service, with a way to incorporate both. Brody requested that she kept to the plain concepts because of his lack of knowledge in the confusing financial fields. It was simply explained that Kate had created a private foundation in both of their names, and named it The Rose Foundation, in honor of Brody's mother.

With the foundation, they had the freedom to offer funding to nearly any organization or institute that was eligible, or even forming qualifications for scholarships. They could offer one-time amounts or make annual contributions. They could even get advertising for funding events and sports if they chose, but only to have other needy groups or charities that they might not have been aware of petition them. The foundation wasn't allowed to take in any external contributions, which they didn't want anyway. The Rose Foundation would be public, but the owners of it wouldn't be.

Kate then showed Brody the logo that Alana had drawn. She was quite artistic; Kate told him to expect some sort of knitting for Christmas. The simple yet striking design was going to be on the foundation website, and also any public banners. The website itself was ready and only needed to be released to the web. As for the foundation, all it needed was signatures and monies to be applied to it, which Kate would do the next business day.

The necessary applications had already been sent and stamped. All they need to do was to sign their names and agree to an amount for tax purposes. Of course, Brody would be involved, at least in what the foundation was funding and agreeing to new clients. The only minor concern was Kate's strategy for investing in foreign markets, so she wished to have Jamal's number for professional consultation if needed. She made it clear that it would be a dream job for her; it involved finances, and offered creativity and the freedom to make their own choices.

Kate closed her laptop and set it aside. "So, does this appeal to you? Do you like my plan?"

Brody sat silently for a moment, unable to find the words. He settled with, "You wowed me."

Kate clapped her hands together just before she gave him a crushing hug. "I was hoping you'd love it," she said into his neck, "and it's something we can share and enjoy together."

As she pulled back, Brody said, "Darlin', it's an awesome idea, and it's perfect. It's gonna make my ideas sound kinda simple."

"Oh, that's only because my concept is in a complex field. I'm sure your plans are grand, just as always. Go on and tell me, love; it's your turn."

Brody explained how he had already started making arrangements for his simple plans, which were twofold. Both ideas directly involved one of the popular radio shows from a station based near Sligo town. It had a good listener base in Ballaghadaere.

The first idea was to give away a house for Christmas, one of the properties Brody recently purchased and was having refurbished. A furniture voucher would also be included. He'd already spoken to the marketing people at the station, and was going to let them set the criteria for the event.

The second idea was more detailed, but mostly for the radio station. Brody wanted to promote what he called 'holiday helping hand'. Since Ireland's holiday season began on December eighth, the radio show would start it then. The on-air personalities would ask for emails from people (or someone they knew of) who were having financial trouble. Again, Brody would leave it to the station as to who was chosen to receive a hand. A number of emails would be read on-air daily up until Christmas, and possibly phone calls made to the sender of an email for verification, or at least just for ratings. All the recipients would have to do is come to the station with proof of their bills.

Brody then mentioned that the station might ask for a private benefactor to be available for audible agreements. Both he and Kate were hesitant to be that on-air voice; his American accent would be conspicuous, and she would be too nervous about having her own voice go out over the radio. As an alternate solution, Kate suggested that The Rose Foundation be stated as the patron; individual hardship grants were legal, and it was a great idea to get the foundation's name out to the public. Brody loved her idea, and would inform the radio station in the morning.

"Like I said," he concluded, "it's not as big as your idea, but I'm excited about it."

Kate reached out to gather their cups for a refill. "Love, I think those are truly brilliant concepts! And it's all so much better that we can integrate them into foundation marketing." They shared a quick kiss before she went to the kitchen.

Brody sat back contentedly with his socked feet up on the coffee table. "So we'll just make a day of it," he called out, "and take care of a whole bunch of stuff while we're up in Sligo. First the radio station, and then we'll find a car for Jane. We can have a nice seafood lunch at a fancy restaurant, do some shopping, maybe catch a movie, and then pick up Jane's car on the way home."

"Sounds grand," Kate said as she returned with refilled mugs. "Any plans until then?"

Noticing the thrum of heavy rain outside, the dogs asleep on the big throw rug in front of him, and the warm glow of the fireplace, Brody replied, "I think we've earned a lazy day."

Chapter 19

Deep into the cold night, hail had mixed with the lessening rain, which caused Gideon to find cover to enjoy his pilfered food from a nearby home. He jogged far out into a vast grazing field and found shelter in an old stone sheep shed, small but intact.

The large wedge of local farmhouse cheese was savored as he sat in dry comfort, surrounded by a black night and the soothing sound of the downpour. He soon after built old straw up into a corner and settled in for a doze, his thick hands resting contentedly on his round belly.

A prod to the sole of Gideon's boot brought him groggily from his slumber. Slow to focus, he used the sight of his owl form to fix on the vague shape that stood over him. The curvaceous human form was noticed first. She was of human height, but on the short end. She wore a simple garment, with long hair of various shades that cascaded over her shoulders. She rested casually with arms crossed against the entry to the shed, and simply waited. She had the natural perfume of summer flowers and Lore wilderness.

Gideon blinked his eyes, unfamiliar with the shape and smell of her. "Yes?" he asked thickly.

A soft, gentle, feminine voice responded from the female. "You are the morpher Gideon, I hope?"

"Aye, that be me, lady. Are ye in distress of some sort?" His vision came more into focus and gave more detail, and her details were startlingly alluring. Despite her beauty, he remained wary.

A disarming smile played across her lovely face. "My only distress was in finding you. I've had many minions scouring the countryside, and only recently did they locate you."

Gideon propped himself up into the corner. "And why would ye be in search for such as me?"

"I seek information," she said sweetly as she rested her head against the rough-hewn entry, "and I'm told you have it."

"Ah, so ye seek barter, then." Gideon quickly dusted his clothes and began to stand. Suddenly, roots from underneath him circled and snared his thighs, pinning him in a seated position. He looked from his lap to her, his eyes wide with fright.

"I'm in no mood for complex negotiations." Her voice, while still soft, became filled with seductive glamour. "I was hoping you might tell me what I desire."

Gideon mellowed immediately, lulled by her appeal. "What might I be offerin' ye, milady?"

"Jane McCarthy."

A distant alarm went off behind Gideon's eyes. With the mental turmoil, he failed to respond immediately. The entrancing fae noticed his hesitation and pressed with her enthrallment. "Such a simple thing, Gideon; I wish to be her friend, as you are. Please don't be selfish. If you share with me, I will share things in return."

The apprehension was still with him, but he didn't want to refuse her offer - an offer that was filled with hopes and dreams. "Share - share what, might I tell ye?"

She gently tossed her hair with a flick of her head, letting it cascade over her breasts. "I seek only trivial things, Gideon - simple things about a simple girl. What does Jane look like? How old is she? What are her hobbies? Where does Jane live? Surely you'll trade such modest information for the life-altering bliss I can offer, no? Tell me, and I will make one of your unknown wishes come true, my handsome morpher."

In spite of his hesitancy, Gideon grinned. "Lil' Jane is a pretty enough lass, but naught compared to yer beauty, I tell ya true."

The granter of his desires swayed in feminine fashion. "You're so sweet, Gideon. Tell me more."

"Ah, well, she be wearin' her coppery brown hair in a tail most days. And her singin' voice would make some fae weep, I tell ya. I could escort ye to her school on winter solstice, when they be havin' festivities, I could. She be performin' there and then."

"That's such a nice offer, and I would be honored to be in the presence of one such as you." She continued her manipulation. "How old is Jane, Gideon? Does she live in town?"

Gideon swelled with pride at the chance of being her escort, whoever she was. "Lil' Jane is almost at her seventeenth year by the Verden, she is, and..." He trailed off as his apprehension flared. "No..." he murmured. Gideon's resolve finally reclaimed him from her seductive glamour. "No, milady, I'll tell ya no more. I've told too much as it is, I have, and curse myself for the weakness of your sly tongue. But no more, says I."

The woman's posture changed subtly, and became rigid and proud. "I give you credit, little morpher. Your will is strong - stronger than some elders. You've said you'll tell no more, and I believe you. Still, I wonder how long you think you'll be banished."

Gideon stopped testing the strength of the roots that held him in place and looked up at her in fear. "Banished, milady?"

"Yes - banished, Gideon. I doubt you have large Lore holdings. It could take quite some time to draw from your little scrap of Lore land to rebuild your strength enough to return back here. Quite some time indeed."

Eyes wide with panic, the small fae struggled futilely. His friend Jane was in danger, and he was powerless to help. It might take Verden decades to rebuild enough power to open a fae-bridge gate with his paltry Lore claim. Gideon watched her take a step backwards, out into the rain. "No, milady, please!" he bellowed.

The woman shook her head in mock sadness. "I will tell Jane goodbye for you."

Gideon began to plead again just as Saraid flicked her hand toward the stone shed. The heavy roof crashed down onto him, followed by the walls, which all fell heavily in his direction. She waited a few moments to let the stones settle after crushing the morpher. With another wave of her hand, roots shuffled stones away enough to reveal Gideon's broken body.

Saraid stood over him until he dissipated from the Verden realm. After the little body slowly faded from mortal existence, she turned with a pleasant grin and strolled away into the rain-filled night.

***

The black tent flap whipped open, revealing a damp and foggy morning. Devlin stepped out and watched a car drive by on the lonely road next to his camp. His eyes followed until it was out of sight. He strode out into the field toward his steed. The black and gold beast saw him and slowly walked to meet him. Devlin patted the steed's mane as he fed it a Verden carrot and then a small Lore fruit, gifting it before the task that awaited them.

Devlin checked a coat pocket to make sure the items were there, and pulled them out for simple inspection. A handful of lost and stolen Verden objects of worth lay in his palm, some of which held admirable craft. Rings, watches, earrings - some new, some heirlooms - had been gathered in his travels when the misplaced items had caught his eye. Devlin had some reluctance in pawning the small amount of his cache, but his current mission would require human funding.

With the valuables back in place, Devlin returned his attention back to his steed. "It's time to go slumming," he said softly to himself in the quiet morning. The steed immediately transformed into a racing-style motorcycle, black with gold trim.

Devlin took a deep breath, and suddenly he was in his manifested form. A human stood in his place, with youthful good looks and shoulder-length blonde hair in celebrity fashion. A concert t-shirt was covered by a black leather jacket with gold studs, and black cargo pants were tucked into combat boots. He knew the style was a bit anachronistic, but liked it nonetheless.

After he strapped the black and gold half-helmet on, Devlin mounted and started the motorcycle. He let out a long sigh, and watched his breath plume in the cold morning air. He was about to begin acquainting himself with the residents of Ballaghadaere, but for more than one purpose.

Of course, the magistrate's mission needed to be accomplished, but he also wanted to unravel the mystery surrounding the area. In doing so, he might just uncover the schemes of that cunning seer, Enochia. He thought it might do her well to relearn her place in the scheme of things. He hoped for that place to be under his heel.

***

Kate and Brody woke early on Monday morning, both of them invigorated for the day that lay ahead. Their light conversation was jovial as they drove north through thinning fog toward the radio station. Once there, Brody met once again with the station manager, along with the head of marketing and one of the on-air personalities, introducing Kate before they sat down for the meeting.

The concepts were reviewed with ideas being passed around the conference table, and all of the radio employees were inspired by what the couple was offering. Agreements were made, legalities signed, and the marketing director told them that 'promo' commercial spots would begin in a day or two. Brody and Kate departed with smiles.

A used car with low mileage and in very good condition was found at a dealership Brody had perused online; he told the salesman that they'd be back to pick it up in the afternoon. Afterwards, he let Kate drive since she knew Sligo town well. The first stop was at a bank branch to bring the Rose Foundation into being. They then visited various shops for their Christmas lists, sometimes together and sometimes separately to keep some gifts secret.

Brody did give Kate one item over lunch; a new tablet with a dongle stick. He said it was for her to keep in her purse instead of carrying her laptop so that she might conduct foundation business freely. As they ate a delicious surf-and-turf meal, Brody used the device to show her the pictures his cousin Simon had sent. Besides getting a face to put to the voice, they were both very impressed with the skill and variety of his craft. Over dessert, Brody texted his cousin, adding a few more pieces to the order he'd already placed. Kate used the tablet afterwards to release the foundation website.

The stroll around the shopping district was pleasant, even with the gloom. Brody and Kate kept each other close during their day together, either involved in smiling chats or exchanging small affections. After a comedy movie at a nearby cinema, they concluded their shopping. The couple finally went back to the dealership to pick up Jane's freshly-detailed car. As it was a bit snug for Brody, he let Kate drive it home while he followed.

After parking Jane's car in the detached garage, they unloaded his wagon and spent the evening at home. Kate commented on all of his purchases, so Brody explained that he never really had a family to shop for before and was too enthused with the idea to deny himself some 'whim-shopping'.

Kate remembered Brody kissing her good morning before she drifted back off. She finally woke to Pearl's harsh breath in her face, but the dog's cheerfulness cancelled out the olfactory assault. After refreshing herself and dressing, she went to the kitchen for morning tea. It was no surprise not to find Brody indoors; it was still early enough that he'd still be seeing to chores out on the property.

While the kettle warmed, Kate peered through a window and found him out at the far shed, the 'donkey shelter'. After the kettle whistled, she poured herself a mug near the sink. The window from that viewpoint faced north, across the back lawn, with the garden and other stone shed at the far end. It was only a passing glance Kate took out that window, but her eyes were drawn to subtle movement. She peered more closely, just to make sure...

The intermittent rain was dormant when Kate walked out across two paddocks to visit Brody and her new pets. While in the midst of checking Cinnamon's hooves, he noticed her approach and offered a smile. Kate came under the long overhang of the shed, gave her fella a short kiss, and then rubbed the foal's soft nose. "Are you getting the feel for it yet, love?" she asked Brody as he released the young donkey's leg.

"Sort of," he replied while he wiped his hands on a rag. "We'll need to get the local farrier out here on a regular rotation, I guess. He's a friend of your dad's, right?"

"Yes, they're mates from far back." Kate moved further in to greet the other donkeys with small sugar cubes. "Gordon McCoy is his name. He's good at the trade, even though he might be getting a bit long in the tooth. All of his sons have moved on to city work; not one of them to carry on his occupation. It's a pity."

Brody nodded his head in casual agreement as he began brushing Pepper. "Yeah, I guess so. Oh, by the way, George will be by today with some hay and straw, just so you know." He didn't hear a reply and so looked over at her. Her lips were pursed and she seemed lost in thought. "What is it, darlin'?"

She finally looked up at him. "Sorry, love," she said pensively, "but I've seen something that has led into a long line of thought. Will you hear me out?"

"Uh, sure - go ahead."

Kate moved closer and leaned against a stone post. "You've wondered and worried as to why you lose your temper with the Other Crowd, especially when you're so normally calm and relaxed. I think I know why."

Brody paused in his brushing. He studied Kate as she looked off, hesitant to speak. Pepper nudged him to continue, so he started brushing the donkey again and said, "I'm all ears, darlin'."

After she exhaled a deep breath through her nose, Kate explained. "First, one of them corrupted your family. Your cousins became a threat to those you care about because of that little demon. It played on your old fears of losing those close to you. Beyond that, you've found a perfect sanctuary, and they keep invading it. I think that's just fuel to the fire, though. The manipulations and the violence are the main reasons for your temper. I know you don't like harboring foul emotions; it's not in your nature. Besides all that, they're simply creatures out of fantasy and therefore unfathomable."

Nodding his head, Brody moved over to a wall and leaned against it. "I guess all that makes sense. Some of it I didn't want to dwell on too much, and that last part... Hell, I have trouble getting my head around it. I'm a normal guy, and all of this is about the opposite of normal." He put his hands in his pockets and looked at her. "But you said you saw something?"

Kate met his gaze. "Yes, I did, but I want to clarify the matter beforehand. Now, your - the Wagner's had bad intent to begin with, and the demon made them act on those feelings. Lorcan is evil, but so are they, to some extent - two of them, anyway. Beyond their banjaxed plan, Oriana came to help, after a fashion, as did Aldritch. They had their own motivations, to be sure, but they came as allies."

"Fair enough - go ahead."

"Then came that damnable demon again, followed by the stout barbarian and Oriana once more. Whatever Lorcan's intent was, his reappearance brought forth your stone gift. Kazimir was simply delivering a message and, honestly, was acting in my protection, misguided as it was. Oriana, for her part, diffused what could have become a tara mess, although her methods weren't to your liking."

Brody frowned. "Kate, I know you're not defending them, exactly, or most of them. I know you're just stating facts. I just don't see your point yet."

Kate's face was filled with concern. "Brody, I think you're generalizing. Easy as it might be to see them as such, not all of the Other Crowd is like Lorcan. In fact, every one of them we've met besides the little demon had no ill intent. Trust me," she said as she put a finger up near her eye, "I'm quite sure of it."

"Okay, okay, I see your point." Brody dipped his head, and absently moved straw around with his boot. "Maybe I've been a bit unfair about it." He looked back up at her. "But what do you expect, Kate? I came here to live a simple life and start fresh, and the next thing I know, we've got all of Peter Pan's freaky alien friends inviting themselves into our lives!"

"Love, perhaps of because of whom we are and what we can do, we might be part of their world more than we want to be. Since I can see their nimbus and you have another of their gifts, they might be more curious about us."

Brody huffed. "So what do we do about it? Is there anything?"

Kate approached him and rested her hands on his chest. "Let me, um, read them, before you react. We have to view them as strangers, and ask them to respect our rules and wishes if they choose to visit. I'll know their intent, and you can defend us, so we can enforce our rules. Think of it like this: they're wanderers who sometimes don't act appropriately because they simply don't know better. They have their own way. As you said, they can either adhere to our wishes or move on."

His eyes stayed with hers for a moment before he turned his gaze out into the paddock. "I suppose that would work out best, but I'm still going to be on my guard."

With a soft hand, Kate brought Brody's face back to hers. "Love, have faith in me, in my gift. You have every right to be wary, but I'll tell you of their intent. That way, you won't have to go getting ill-set. From what I've seen so far, most of them should be treated as you would any stranger." Her lips curled in a genuine smile. "And look how that's worked out for you thus far. It's hard to count all of your new friends."

"Well," Brody replied as he tilted his head, "some, but they're all good people."

Kate took a step back with her eyebrows arched. "Some? We'll have trouble fitting everyone in come Thursday." She saw his light eyes soften and a warm smile form on his handsome face; she knew the look. "I love you, too."

Brody's smile grew wider as he took her hands. "You've already got me figured out. I still like saying it, if you don't mind... even though it doesn't seem like enough." He let his grin slip. "Okay, you have me in a proper frame of mind. Now what did you see?"

With a gentle squeeze of her hands in his, Kate said, "There is a fairy in our garden as we speak."

After a deep breath, Brody nodded his head once. "Then let's go see what it wants."

Kate smiled at his mellow demeanor. "Perhaps I might lead the conversation for this, depending on the mood? I'll read its nimbus as we approach and let you know."

Brody walked hand in hand with Kate out into the fields. "It's good to see you having some initiative. Well, outside of the bedroom, anyway." He got the gentle smack on his arm that he expected.

As the two crossed the lawn toward the garden, Kate quietly said, "I'm not too familiar with some of the colors, but I'd guess curious, calm, a touch of caution - none of them dark. The creature is small, by the way; very small."

Alright," Brody whispered back, "then if it doesn't fly off or whatever, ask it to show itself."

Kate kept her eye on its nimbus, noticing that it kept its place and its emotional colors steady as they approached. They reached the garden fence, and Kate spoke in the creature's direction. "We are aware of you. I know that you have no bad intent; nor do we. Would you show yourself, please?"

A tiny woman appeared before them, standing behind a radish plant. To Brody, she looked like an old-fashioned housewife; old dress, apron, head scarf, garden gloves. The only things to offset the comparison were her faded blue hair and that she was only about one foot tall. He thought the little woman looked to be in her late thirties or early forties, with a pleasant round face and dimples. As Kate had described, the tiny creature appeared reserved and composed.

"Thank you, we appreciate it," Kate said. "Not to be rude, but you're on our property; in our garden, no less. We'd like to know why."

The tiny woman nodded. "As would I, in your place, ma'am. I'm only here to assist, I am, and my word on it."

"That's a kind offer," Kate said, "but I think we're getting along rather well on our own. I can think of a number of other homes that would benefit from your assistance."

"Oh, as can I, ma'am, but I'm not here to give a hand in me normal way."

Before she could continue, Brody spoke. "What is your 'normal way', exactly?"

The tiny fae shifted her eyes to him. "To be plain, good sir, I tinker. That is to say, I mend cloth, tend gardens, clean drains and the like; generally keep things from falling into disrepair. I'm a brownie, sir. It's what we do, and are happy for it. That is to say, normally, sir."

"Then what are you here to fix?" Kate asked. "Most everything here is in good repair."

The tiny woman grinned, and her dimples deepened. "I'm here to fix a bridge, if ye will, ma'am."

Brody frowned. "A bridge? What bridge?"

"I'll start fresh, if it pleases ya both." Brody and Kate nodded, so she continued. "I go by the name Liadan, and am already in the know of who ye be; Miss Kate McCarthy with the gift of sight, and Mr. Brody Lynch with the gift of stone. I've been made aware of your turbulence with some of us fae, and I'm here to make amends, if I can."

Kate and Brody shared a surprised look. She glanced at him before responding to the tiny woman. "That is a fine gesture, Liadan, but I hope you can understand that trust must be earned. We would welcome new friends, but only if they proved themselves as such."

"Right you are, ma'am," Liadan said, "and I'm only here to do just that. Giving an oath among my kind is a powerful thing, more so than among yours, just so ye know. On that, I give me word that I'm here on your property to ease your worries and confusion. As ye might already know, ma'am, I have no foul agenda. What's more, I cry pardon for mucking about on your lands uninvited, although me kind is never concerned with such formalities. If ye choose, I'll move on and be no more of a bother."

Brody put a hand on Kate's shoulder. She looked at his questioning expression and nodded, as if to say Liadan spoke honestly. "Actually," he said, "we'd be interested in your offer, but we have some rules on our property. If those are honored, then you're welcome here."

"Of course, sir; and what would those be?"

"First," he began, "You're only welcome in our home with our permission. Second, our dogs and donkeys aren't to be, uh, messed with unless they'd come to harm otherwise, and not without our permission. Now, I like to keep tabs on my own property, so if you see something big that needs fixing, I'd rather you just told me about it. And I also don't want a bunch of your people coming over here for a party or anything; one fairy at a time is more than enough for me."

Liadan smiled again. "Those are sound requests, sir, and I'll have no trouble abiding by them. To be clear on a matter or two, we go by fae; some would think it a touch slanderous to be called a fairy. I'll not be treading on your independence, nor hamper any of your plans. I'm not one to muck with beasts, nor will I be pilfering your leftovers like some common morpher. As for the mending, I see nothing worthy of dire need, although I might make suggestions..."

"Of course," Kate said, "we'll take them into account."

"Just for note," the tiny fae began, "the kale needs deeper planting. I might also advise flagstones at all the paddock gates, to avoid ruts by your fetching beasts. There's a bit of loose thatch on the far side of the cottage roof, and the duck shite is getting a bit thick on some of the walls."

Brody nodded in appreciation. "That's good to know, and I like that idea about the flagstones." His face then became serious. "My only real worry around here is a redcap named Lorcan. I don't want him coming back. If you can do something about that, we'll be off to a good start."

Liadan's face soured. "I know of who ye speak, and have me own small score to settle with that vile fae, I do. If that one comes sniffing about during my time here, I'd be happy to turn him out for both our sakes. I give me word on that as well."

The rain had slowly begun again, so Brody removed his hooded jacket and draped it over Kate before turning back to Liadan. "We're going to get out of the weather. You're welcome to find some place out here to stay dry, and we can talk again soon."

Flashing another grin, Liadan said, "Don't ye worry yourselves about me; if you'll notice, you're the only ones getting' wet. Like a duck, I am. Now get yourselves on, and I'll get about keepin' me word."

With nods and solemn smiles offered to the tiny fae, Brody and Kate made their way back inside. She waited for him in the kitchen to return from hanging their coats before she said, "You have to admit, that was quite the nice turn from the norm, and very much unexpected."

Brody grinned at her while he found a box of cereal. "It sure as hell was, but it doesn't mean the whole thing still isn't... well, shit, I don't even know what to call it."

Kate added a small smile to her bemused expression. "Maybe 'hallucination' fits the bill."

Looking up from pouring cereal into bowls for them, Brody said, "I don't know if that's a good enough word, darlin'." He turned to her. "Think about it; we just talked to a tiny little thing who comes from God knows where, and looks like a mix between a girl's doll and a chubby housewife. I don't know the Irish view on that, but from where I'm from, you better be completely nuts or high on crack if you say you're talking to..." Brody made quotation marks with his fingers, "the 'Little People'. It feels like a Disney movie, except our Tinkerbelle is a handyman. What kind of messed up fairytale is that?"

Kate chuckled and replied, "I agree; it's... surreal. I'm just glad that this encounter, while bizarre and almost comical, went along so well. Liadan seems very pleasant and has good intentions. I think we could both agree that that is a welcome change of pace."

"Fair enough... But if she all the sudden turns into a giant pig, I'll sell her carcass to the butcher."

Chapter 20

After first glamouring the headmaster of St. Niall's secondary school, and then a few of the male instructors in the teacher's lounge, Saraid casually walked down the school halls in her latest manifestation. She adapted the appearance of a teen girl barely over five feet tall, but shapely and very attractive. Her blue school uniform fit her snugly, and her skirt swayed suggestively while strolling down the halls. A green and white hair band held dark hair away from her pale, fresh face. Green, leaf-shaped studs adorned her ears.

An evocative smile and quick query to a boy on his way to the loo gave her a stuttering reply that Jane McCarthy might be in the theatre hall. She soon after found a wall map and made her way to it.

Saraid viewed the long, descending theatre room from the shadows in the back. Teenagers scurried about the stage area, working on backdrops and props. A few others off to the side were practicing lines for an upcoming play. Two more teenagers, a boy and a girl, were at the front of the stage with their teacher down in the front row.

The boy of the duo was singing; a strong voice, but without much range or depth. The teacher, a short, lanky man, stopped the boy for further coaching. As Saraid moved closer, the boy stopped listening to the instruction when he saw her.

The teacher quickly saw the boy's slack jaw stare and turned. Approaching Saraid, he inquired, "May I help you, young lady?"

Instantly releasing glamour onto the man, she replied, "Sorry, sir. I'm a transfer; the headmaster has my papers. I was told to wait here while my books were gathered. Is that alright, sir? Can I wait here with you?"

The teacher's eyes glazed. "Why - why, certainly you can, my dear. If you like, you could -"

A sound came from the stage, stopping the teacher in mid-sentence. The girl of the duo had begun to sing. The pitch was perfect, the inflections smooth and pure. Within the first few seconds of the girls' song, a subtle but dramatic effect began taking place. All of the other students had stopped in their tasks, taken with the power and emotion of that voice.

The girl began the Irish tune with a mezzo-soprano tone, but she soon proved that her range couldn't be labeled. Every pitch, from high register to low, was rich and velvety. It was quite possibly the loveliest human singing voice Saraid had ever heard.

The singer was only practicing a section of the song, so it ended quickly. Just after, Saraid tapped the teacher on the shoulder. "Pardon, sir, but who is that girl?"

"Oh, eh, that's Jane McCarthy. A fine voice, no?"

"She's grand," Saraid agreed. "Is she friendly enough, sir? I was told to find someone to show me the grounds and best routes."

The teacher frowned. "Um, she's a nice enough sort. If you'd rather, I could -"

She cut him off. "Sir, I'm not sure that'd be proper." Saraid added a captivating smile to her glamour. "If you would, please send her my way, and mayhap soon we could... meet somewhere, just for a coffee or something."

The teacher's eyes widened with the suggestion, and he quickly scurried off to fetch the McCarthy girl. Saraid sighed, wishing once again that her gift of seduction worked for both genders. Alas, she would have to take the long route to befriend her target and gain her trust.

Saraid thought that the only things that she and Jane McCarthy really had in common were good looks and fae gifts, and she'd use the latter to quickly earn the girls' confidence. That ability to create doors into the nether was a puzzling gift, and she wanted to explore its possibilities for herself.

Jane approached the pretty new girl and took notice of her fair skin in contrast to her silky dark hair, and the thick lashes around her green eyes made them stand out. Not to mention she filled out her jumper, which meant she'd soon have boys on her tail. Even with her looks, she didn't have a lofty air; a bit timid, actually. "Hi, I'm Jane. You're just new in?"

"Yeah, um... Hi. I'm Sara."

"Did Mr. Buckley give you a start? He can sound gruff but he's a bit of a pushover."

They exited the theatre hall and began walking down a corridor. "No, he was nice enough, really. It's just coming to a new school and all that, especially mid-term, and in the middle of my leaving cert."

Jane smiled at her. "Not to worry, I'm sure you'll smooth right in. What are your specialties?"

"Oh, um, I'm taking languages and Irish." Saraid said demurely. "I have a bit of a knack for them. And good thing too, since I'm shite at anything else," Jane giggled, so Saraid followed suit. "What about you? I'd wager music is your main. I heard you singing back there; your voice is savage."

Jane's cheeks reddened. "Thanks, but I'm like you, I suppose. I'm an eejit with math and such. So we can help each other along, at least in one respect; we'll have Gaeilge together."

"Oh, grand; It'll be nice to see a face I know in at least one of my subjects. Well, sometimes, anyway."

Jane saw Sara's face quickly turn downcast. "Don't worry; I'm sure we'll get along fine, and you're welcome to sit with me. Or, is that not what you meant?"

"No, it's just..." Sara began hesitantly. "I have to miss lessons now and again. My mam is always down with a bad dose, and da works so hard with his business. I'm left to watch over her on more than I'd like. That's mostly why we moved out this way; housing is cheaper here than near Galway, and my mam's meds are costly." She looked up at Jane. "Sorry, you didn't need to know all that."

With a reassuring smile, Jane said, "It's no fret, really. But the headmaster knows your state, right?"

"Oh, yes, and he was very understanding."

That surprised Jane, but she said nothing. They continued to roam the halls, and various locations of note were pointed out. When one of the early classes let out, they were surrounded by a throng of students. Jane made introductions to a few of her friends, as well as the young man she'd just begun seeing socially. Saraid acted shy and elusive around him, not wanting to draw the boy's attention and cause tension with Jane. Soon enough, the school halls were empty again, and the two chatted amiably while Jane showed her around.

The escort time was almost over, and Jane said she'd have to get on to her next class. The new girl shyly asked if Jane might show her around the village sometime. With the sad reply of not having a car, Sara excitedly said that she could get the use of one, although her skills were suspect and Jane could drive them around if she liked. Jane happily agreed, and so they made plans to meet soon. Sara said she'd have to get a new phone, but took Jane's number and promised to be her first call on it. They soon after parted with friendly smiles.

Saraid slipped into an empty classroom and disappeared from Verden sight. As she strolled through the once-again busy hallways unseen, she took further note of parlance and social interactions. Some of the intricacies of modern youth were puzzling, but she felt comfortable enough to get by.

Apparently, a phone was a necessity, so she'd have to either buy or liberate one from some willing victim. It wouldn't be needed for long, anyway. She'd also borrow some remote vehicle and have someone show her how to use the strange machine.

Saraid thought that even if Jane's 'door gift' turned out to be for naught, she wouldn't walk away empty-handed. The girl would still make a fine vocal entertainer in the dryad's court back in the Lore.

***

Despite the thin covering of overnight snow, the heat from the forge and considerable concentration caused Simon his fair share of perspiration. He was alternating between two current projects. The acid-etching of details into one of the heater shields caused him to cramp after a few minutes of intricate work. He'd then return to folding metal to create a stronger alloy for a short-hafted Gael axe, which itself would require some etching.

The items were for Brody, who had placed numerous and varied orders and had paid handsomely in advance. It was oddly fortunate that there were no other current customers because Simon wanted to put his full effort and attention into his cousin's requested pieces.

As Simon took a break and swallowed the last of his lukewarm coffee, he wiped his brow and tried not to become too wistful of his current circumstances. Concerns over his financial and business status became secondary to him. What mattered more was family. He'd only recently discovered that he had some, and had found his only real friend in the process.

The whole of society had since stopped treating Simon with abject hatred, true, but he'd found that some people's memories faded slowly. He still saw the negation of everyone's ire to be a godsend, and still a mystery, but that didn't mean that he ever liked most folks to begin with. Brody Lynch was that glaring exception. And he was half a world away.

From the sent pictures, Simon's cousin looked like a big, beefy fella, but mellow and happy as his demeanor on the phone suggested. A "gentle giant", his ma would have said. Brody's lady was a sweet-looking filly, and Simon was glad to hear that she treated him so well.

The cottage looked nice and comfortable, what he saw of it, but the outdoor shots were what caught Simon's eye. There weren't many images, but the Irish landscape looked calm and rugged at the same time. Even better was that, as he found through simple internet searches, there weren't any forbidding forests or daunting mountains; thoughts of such still haunted Simon's dreams.

With the advance payment of Brody's order, Simon could at least cook his own thanksgiving dinner that year; microwave turkey wasn't something to look forward to. With his cousin in a foreign land, he wondered if he'd be celebrating it as well. Simon made a mental note to ask that when he'd call again soon, along with sending photo updates of the work in progress.

Another wave of loneliness washed over Simon then. Having Brody as family was great, but now spending holidays alone would be all the worse because of it. Instead of numbing isolation, Simon now had a reminder of what he was missing. All he could look forward to in a couple days was another phone call, and hopefully not poisoning himself with an undercooked turkey.

***

Throughout that brisk, damp Tuesday and early Wednesday in late November, Brody and Kate found themselves venturing out onto the property on numerous occasions to question Liadan further. The tiny fae had little patience just to stand and talk, so they assisted in minor chores while she answered their questions as best she could.

Brody and Kate noticed that even while carrying on a conversation, Liadan worked extremely fast. When her speed was mentioned, she stated that she was moving at a snail's pace for their benefit. After a particular chore or two was completed, Brody and Kate would make an excuse to go inside for a while. They used those times alone with each other to ponder and discuss any new information.

One thing the couple agreed upon was Liadan herself. Trying not to make light of it, and in no way meant as an insult or slight, but that tiny fae was the most human of all of the Other Crowd they'd met. As such, it was easy to relate and carry on dialogues, regardless that she was smaller than Brody's boot.

Liadan seemed in no way intimidated by the vast difference in her comparative size, which led the couple to assume that she had capable defenses. Therefore, conversations flowed smoothly after any initial uneasiness. However, the chats were one-sided; Liadan had been around humans for centuries and so had only a few questions of her own. Brody and Kate didn't want to appear too overbearing with their inquiries, so they tried to mix in light banter when possible.

By the time a new storm front had rolled in by midday Wednesday, many minor tasks that Brody might have overlooked were completed. Flagstones were laid at most gate passages, and the garden was in fine form. The roof was fixed, and choke-weeds were pulled. Advice was given for the best use of droppings, and dog hair was scattered along the border walls to deter foxes or vermin. Kate even had a handful of new recipes.

Liadan remarked, after getting a hint of Brody and Kate's charitable hobbies, that they were tinkers in their own way. It was why brownies considered themselves the most contented and self-possessed race of the fae; a job well done was its own reward. Liadan further explained that, despite what the Christians said, pride in selflessness was a good thing... as long as you kept your mouth shut.

Before the storm hit in full force, Liadan said that she enjoyed the company but would be moving on. She went on to ask if she might stop in on occasion; Kate assured her that she'd be welcome. The tiny fae apologized for not staying, but she was simply no longer needed there and felt the impulse to ply her skills elsewhere. Brody and Kate thanked her for the information, assistance, and advice, and then finally retreated indoors when the storm broke.

As the couple sat in front of the crackling fireplace, both agreed that they were glad for Liadan's offer and help, but were also somewhat relieved to see her go as well. They had their home to themselves again, and with many questions answered.

Even with all of Liadan's information, the fae were still creatures nearly beyond reasoning, and she couldn't even begin to explain the Lore without perplexing them. Still, many things were clear. Brody and Kate understood that there were many races of fae, and most were strong in specific abilities. Most of those abilities, or gifts, were within the realms of senses, emotion, or nature.

In Kate's case, the rare occurrence of fae heritage was known to create unexpected gifts, although the indication of any paranormal ability was unusual. The age and power of the fae progenitor did, however, create variables to that circumstance. Dryads such as Aldritch, while quite powerful, weren't usually known to be gifted in sight as Kate was, thus proving the point.

To explain Brody's gift of stone, Liadan said it was a troll gift, and rare even among them. She could only guess that he had that race's lineage, or that a grace had been laid upon him. When asked to explain, the brownie said that a grace was a bestowment of a fae's gifts on another for grand services rendered. Either Brody or one of his near ancestors had done a fae (a troll, almost certainly) a great boon. Despite whoever may have been graced in his recent line, in Brody it had come to fruition.

Liadan only knew a few vague stories of noble trolls with that gift, and those tales were only related to combat only. Until Brody, she'd yet to see the gift of stone used for aesthetic purposes.

Beyond what pertained to their personal situations, Brody and Kate were made aware of many other simple facts. Fae were not immortal, but their lifespan far surpassed that of humans. Time spent in the Verden, the human realm, affected that span adversely, but by choice.

Fae subsisted partly on glamour, which was offered in the way of natural beauty, but could also be garnered more quickly from the hopes, dreams, aspirations, and even positive emotions of humans. The Lore itself was fed by those ethereal concepts. While fae 'harvested' glamour in the Verden, making their lives richer, their existence was made possible by the Lore; every fae would frequently return for a time.

There was then the topic of bridges, which was no simple theory. To mentally grasp that, other factors had to be applied. Fae had three general stages of age; vernal, median, and elder. As fae aged, they grew in power; vernal were too young to create their own bridges to the Verden or places within the Lore. It took energy to create a temporary bridge, thus permanent passages had a great value that varied on where they led to. Fae used power gained from 'dream harvesting', in simple terms, to make those temporary or permanent bridges.

Upon returning to the Lore, excesses of 'dream' would expand whatever holdings a fae may have earned. The larger the holdings in the Lore, the more natural power that fae had to draw from. Following that chain, with more power meant that more permanent bridges could be created to various Verden locations.

Liadan had explained that challenge combats and allied skirmishes were fought over bridge rights, such was their value. While back in the human realm, many fae attempted to garner Verden land through various means to call as their own havens, sometimes even building constructs upon those lands. Energy was acquired through such claims, and it was common for those fae to create permanent bridges from the haven directly to their holdings in the Lore. With a haven in this realm, bridge creation took less energy and effort.

In 'thin places', where the two realms were more closely aligned, harvesting was simpler and bridge creation was easier. Ballaghadaere and the surrounding area was one such 'thin place', which drew more fae to it.

On simpler matters, Brody and Kate quickly caught on to certain aspects of fae in the Verden. Human food and drink were consumable, but only necessary if a fae hadn't harvested in some time. Then again, some fae found certain Verden food to be delectable. And, of course, most any low-caste had a penchant for sweets and dairy products.

Only the slightest trickle of glamour was needed for the Other Crowd to remain unseen. A single manifestation into human form took only a minor effort. Alternate manifestations into other forms took practice and more energy, but it was possible for a fae to have many personifications. Some races, such as morphers, Drommen, and redcaps, had difficulty creating passable manifestations, so many didn't bother with the effort.

Brody and Kate also learned about banishment and true death, and the single difference between the two. Any manner of mortal destruction to a fae in the Verden, which took considerable damage, would cause banishment; their body would quickly fade away and their essence would return to their holdings in the Lore. Until enough power was harnessed to open one of their bridge gates, if they had any, that fae was considered banished to its own holdings. Again, the strength of the Lore holdings determined the time needed to gather power, and thus the time exiled.

The exception to the rule of banishment was iron. Should any hand-wrought iron item or weapon put down a fae, their true death would occur. Shaped iron in non-mechanized form was symbolic of the dawn of the age of industrialization, which weakened all fae's power in this realm. And to the fae, symbolism had great import.

Liadan could only describe that era, and all time after, as the dimming of natural imagination. Fae were thereafter weaker in the Verden because of iron; even simple contact with it caused injury. To her knowledge, hand-wrought iron was the only known bane of the Other Crowd.

Considering the last day or two, Brody and Kate decided that they'd earned a night out of their own kitchen, especially before the big meal planned for the next evening. A meal at Doolin's was agreed upon, followed by a large bout of grocery shopping.

To bring their minds back into the mundane, they heard one of their commercials on the radio in the car on the way to the village. The Rose Foundation-funded event for "a holiday helping hand" played out, which kept the couple riveted to every word said. The announcer was asking that listeners in need start putting their emails together for when the benefit would begin in just over two weeks. The couple drove through a torrential pour on their way home, both wide smiles on their tired faces.

Chapter 21

"What did ye say your name was, me boyo?" old Archie Walsh asked from around his pint. He sat at the bar in Gil's pub, on his usual perch, and was too distracted by the young man's odd looks to hear much of what was said.

The youngster, who had come in a few minutes before the rain began to bucket, about a beer ago, appeared to be of an age not far out of secondary. He wore a leather coat and baggy pants, and styled his blonde hair to look like an eighties rock star.

The young man looked back up from his fresh bowl of Irish stew with a smile. "Devlin Moynihan." He had perused the bartender's mind for a name when he first came in. That name was on Gil's mind because old George's wife, Ruby, was down sick, and word had gotten around. Devlin picked up vague notions that George lived outside of town and didn't venture in much beyond church services. He told himself to go visit George sometime and 'remind' him that he had a grandson named Devlin who was in the area visiting.

"There's a few of your clan in these parts, I believe, young Moynihan."

Devlin swallowed down a bite of stew and replied, "Yes sir; my granda is George, if you know him. I heard my mamo Ruby caught a dose, and I'm dossin' about before uni anyway, so I thought I'd come their way to lend a hand."

Archie nodded appreciatively. "And a fine sort ye are ta be offering. I'm sure ol' George will accept. And give our best," he gestured to Gil behind the bar, "to your drear granny."

Just then, a drenched Mitch Kelly and his younger brother Robbie jogged into the pub past the few patrons at the tables, and went directly to the bar. Their shabby clothes had dried paint and dirt stains on them, but their faces looked freshly washed. As they both plopped down, Mitch said, "A mug of the black stuff for me, and a coke for Robbie, if ya would, Gil."

Looking at the brothers' attire, Archie commented, "Looks like ye been hard at it, Kelly's."

Mitch nodded. "And plenty more work on the roster, sure. But that Sean Rooney has to go. Given the chance, that eejit would hames a jog to the bog." Robbie reluctantly nodded his agreement.

Devlin spoke up. "Are you gents looking for a new hand? I wouldn't mind fattening my wallet while I'm in the area."

Both of the Kelly's took in Devlin's appearance with frowning, curious stares. After a moment, Mitch said, "Maybe."

"This here's Dev Moynihan, ol' George's grandson," Gil supplied as he set their drinks down and took their money. "He looks fit enough to give your crew a hand, I'd say."

Mitch took a gulp and then looked Devlin over once more. "I'm foreman on a work crew, so I'd guess I have a vote on who could sign on. It's simple labor. You don't mind getting your hands dirty, do ya?"

Devlin smiled. "Your hands are clean."

"We washed up at the church before coming over," Robbie offered in friendly fashion.

"And you most likely wouldn't want to wear... whatever your get-up is," Mitch said bluntly. "What the hell are you supposed to be, anyway? Are you in some retro band?"

"Hey," Robbie interjected, "I think that old Thin Lizzy shirt is savage."

Devlin finished a bite of brown bread and grinned at both of them. "I just like the look of 'em. One of my uncles dressed like this, and he was about the best man I knew." He noticed the small dimpled scars along Mitch's jawline and, wanting the focus off of himself, asked, "What happened to you?"

Both of the Kelly's lowered their heads a bit before Mitch finally admitted, "I got in a scrap with some hardchaw about twice my size. It was nothing serious - just bad timing to be rat-arsed." He tried to play it off, and Robbie suddenly took interest in his own drink.

"Nothing serious, did ye say?" Flinn barked. "It was the worst-conceived notion I'd ever seen in all me years. The man tossed ye like a dry cow pie 'cross the pub! And ye had it comin'!" Gil grinned wide and nodded in agreement, but Devlin kept his smile to a minimum and his head down.

"We already apologized -" Robbie began miserably before Mitch cut him off. "Just a mix-up is all," he stated. "Your boy Lynch is nothing so grand, other than being too big for his own good. He's trouble in the making from what I hear, puttin' Kate and her aul wan in harm's way. And look," Mitch said as he pointed behind him, "you even got a new piano from your insurance, so you can just let it go."

"Ye best mind yer gob, ye sour teet," Gil growled. "You don't know what you're on about. Mr. Lynch is a fine sort, and far better than your type on any day."

Mitch and Robbie looked at each other in mild surprise before they turned back to Gil. Mitch said, "You're taking up for him like he was kin, sure. Did that overgrown Yank bail out your pub, like? Owe him a debt, do ya?" He smirked at his own words.

"Truth be told," Gil said with his own small smile, "it's you that owes him."

Before Mitch could ask what that meant, Archie leaned in and spoke in a quiet but serious tone. "I shouldn't be chin-waggin', but ye lads need to be set to right. So cop on, ye corner boys, for I'll only tell this once."

With the old man's evident flare for dramatics, even Devlin paused eating his meal to listen.

"Who do ye think is givin' you dossers a wage?" Archie asked rhetorically as he glared at Mitch. "Who paid for that fine new piano when ye broke the old one with your face? On that note, who paid your hospital bills? And who more than likely paid off the debt on your Uncle Paddy's farm? The very same Mr. Lynch you're sneerin' at, ye sour amadan. Never mind that he took the fine mare Kate McCarthy off your hands, and for her betterment, I'd say. That flahulach pulled your arse out of the fire, as well as a few others, and never once looked for thanks. Why he'd help your sort along is beyond me, but ye'd best come out of the fog and show that sound bloke his proper due."

Besides the angry speech itself, the names mentioned caught Devlin's ear. The generous American, Lynch, was with one of his targets, the eldest McCarthy daughter. It was a lead that Devlin would explore, but not so intently as to cause suspicion. He kept his eyes on his food and tried to appear disinterested even after the old man berated the Kelly brothers.

Mitch and Robbie considered Archie's words. The younger Kelly brother seemed to take them at face value, but Mitch soon frowned. "Away with ya, Archie; it's the church that's been helpin' out."

Gil leaned forward on the bar in front of the Kelly's. "Is that so? And how did the church become so prosperous all the sudden, like? Think everyone has been tithing more than their share of late?" He shook his head sagely. "It's Lynch, chalk it down. And at any rate, I thought you put your score with him to bed."

"Don't let him fool ye," Archie quickly said to Gil. "Their da said he'd tan their hides if they didn't make amends. Told me those very words, Wayne did. Not only that, they didn't want to be banned."

"Well, how about that," Gil said as he stood straight and looked at the chagrined Kelly brothers. "I think you lads should finish up your rounds and be on your way for the day. Ye might have the grime off, but your clothes are right manky. You're spoilin' Mr. Moynihan's meal."

The Kelly brothers downed their drinks and left the pub without a word. Archie watched them go, and then got Devlin's attention. "Just get hold of Father Doyle; he'll set ye right if its work ye need."

Devlin raised his own pint to Archie. "Cheers." He then took a moment to test his expression and put on look of embarrassment. "I'm going to sound like a pure gombeen, but could either of you gents point me in the right way to my granda's gaff? I can't recall where my da said the old place was."

***

Enochia sat in the glow of dim candle light within her dusty parlor when an unexpected knock rapped on her front door. Surprised, the oracle replaced the table cover she had just removed. Performing a quick mental scan of who was at the door to her haven, she sensed the brownie Liadan waiting patiently in the dark. Causing the door to remotely open with a flick of her hand, Enochia waited for the tiny fae to venture in. Liadan hovered into view and came toward the table. Her small, pleasant face was set and solemn.

"What an unexpected surprise," Enochia said as she resettled into her chair. "Please, Liadan, make yourself comfortable." When the brownie smoothly landed on the table and remained standing, the oracle continued. "I must admit that I was unprepared for your sudden presence here. I didn't know you were so well-versed in the gift of travel."

"I have me own secrets, ma'am."

When it appeared that Liadan would not explain further, Enochia decided to move on. "Are you here to offer an update? How are things progressing at the Lynch cottage?"

Liadan casually grasped her hands together behind her back. "There be no need for updates and such, ma'am; me work there be finished."

Enochia frowned. "Could you explain what happened, then?"

With a curt nod, the tiny fae said, "On the morning afore last, me presence was found. The two humans came to me with respect, so I stated me reasons for being there. Over yesterday and into this morn, they asked many questions and I answered what I could. They worked side by side with me, sharing me toil. Even though I might not have been the best choice for your mission, I believe I did well enough to put them at ease and smoothed their ruffles somewhat. I made sure not to mention you, ma'am, not knowing if that'd be proper or not."

"I appreciate that small kindness," Enochia said. In her mind, the mission had gone too well; she had hoped for Liadan to linger for a time, learn more of those two, and perhaps have the brownie perform a task or two for Enochia's benefit. "So you think you were successful?"

"I'd like to think so, ma'am. They were cordial and polite, and said I'd be welcome to visit when they bid me farewell." Liadan knowingly worked with the humans as quickly and informatively as she could. She didn't necessarily trust Enochia's intentions, and didn't want to prolong the visit so that the oracle might manipulate it. "Their holdings are in fine shape, so me only reason to stop by again, if ever, would only be for social purposes."

"Well then," Enochia reluctantly said, "I suppose our pact is complete. At your leisure, I can have a pixie guide you to your new haven. I'll just need to glamour it once you've learned the location."

"That'll be fine, ma'am."

There was an uncomfortable silence between them, and Enochia was curious about the change in the brownie's formerly cheerful demeanor. "Liadan, are you sure the humans didn't upset you in some way? You seem... out of sorts."

The tiny fae gave one curt shake of her head. "Not in the least, ma'am. Closer to contrary, I'd say."

"I'm happy to hear it, and a task well done." Enochia made an effort to appear concerned, but since the brownie didn't accept the initiative, then the oracle was quite content to conclude business. "Now, we can -"

"There's just one thing, ma'am," Liadan interrupted, "and it needs saying."

Enochia let the unexpected rudeness pass. She placed her hands in her lap and said, "Then by all means, continue - inform me of this one thing."

Liadan kept her hands behind her back, but assumed a more confident posture. "Well, ma'am, there be some of our kind who actually give a care for some of the Verden folk, meself included."

"While I don't share your enthusiasm or empathy, I can appreciate the sentiment to a degree. What is your point?"

The brownie took a bold, albeit tiny, step forward. "I'll now be counting Mr. Lynch and his lady Kate among those folk, ma'am. Those two want nothing to do with wicked fae games, and haven't earned anyone's ire. If they'd be placed in harm's way for whatever silly schemes some elders dreamt up, I'll be taking exception to it, ma'am. And I won't be alone in that disapproval, to be sure."

Enochia smiled benevolently. "Good Liadan, again, I admire your compassion. Now, while I admit that those two are woven into many possible webs, it was not I who spun them. I merely try to see the possible outcomes and alter the course for the best of all affected. As such, I have been trying to keep Brody Lynch and Kate McCarthy free from entanglements while assisting them to explore their potentials. Why else would you think I sent you on an ambassadorial mission?"

"If it's as you say, ma'am, then you'll forgive me for me concerns," Liadan replied. "I'll simply not want whatever trust I built with them to be betrayed."

Enochia sighed and slowly nodded her head once. "While I may have my own machinations, good lady, I assure you that I plan nothing of the sort."

Liadan nodded in return. "Well enough, then. If you'll send that pixie along to the cemetery on the morrow at noon, we'll finish up."

"Of course," Enochia agreed. She watched Liadan give a small curtsy and then promptly disappeared. The oracle wasn't fond of unknown entities, and the little brownie was just that. Otherwise, a bridge of understanding, if not trust, had been formed with the two humans who had a role in upcoming events. A vague snippet of far-sight struck her mind then; two humans? Or was it three?

Chapter 22

Brody met Thursday's densely foggy dawn with a relaxed smile. After his morning routines and chores, he greeted Kate warmly in the kitchen. She sat in old flannels and sipped tea while he busied himself with indoor tasks and food preparations. Just as when he hosted his first gathering, Brody was in high spirits throughout the day. He wasn't expecting guests until early evening, but his vigor was up and many chores were seen to by mid-morning.

Kate finally ushered him out of the cottage, imploring him to put his energy into sculpting. Upon Brody's request, she promised to call him back in a few hours later.

As Brody became more attuned to his new ability, he gained speed in shaping stone to his liking. The sculptures were kept on a small scale; a logical idea when attempting new techniques, and he figured that smaller pieces would be more attractive for tourists who didn't want to lug around heavy art.

Brody had to stop working at one point to receive another truck delivery of stone blocks, a shipment that included marble and malachite. Those ores had different textures and densities from the granite and limestone he was used to, so more experimentation was in order. For the new stone types, he pictured a wider range of use from the vague ideas that formed in his mind.

Time sped by while Brody busied himself with his work, and sooner than expected Kate called him back in. She mentioned getting a call from George Moynihan up the way; his wife was still sick, and so they had to decline the dinner invitation.

Another call came while Brody was basting the turkeys; Father Doyle wondered if he might come around early so that they could prepare the long folding table he was bringing. After he arrived and was shown the property, or what could be seen of it through the thick fog, Father Doyle entertained Kate and Brody while they attended to the wide selection of foods. Having spent little informal time around her pastor, Kate was somewhat surprised at the candor of some of his stories.

All of the other invited guests finished their respective work days and made their way out in quick succession to each other. Soon the cottage was filled with talk, laughter, and the aroma of various dishes. When everything was prepared, Brody made a quick, bashful speech, being thankful for good friends. Father Doyle then led all gathered in a quick prayer before the meal commenced.

It was a grand affair, and many of the dishes couldn't be finished off; Brody thought that too much was better than too little. Most of the women retired to the kitchen while the men watched horse races on the telly. Both Brody and Jack were quite interested in a few of those races; they'd both been to the betting office to place a few bills down on this horse or that.

Brody stepped outside with a few guests to have a rare smoke, and informed them of the surprise to come. He slipped off to his garage and pulled Jane's car up near the front door. Luckily, rain had begun again, making his and Kate's plan appear logical. After came back in, he winked at Kate. She had gathered some leftovers and asked Jane to run her up to the Moynihan's; she just wanted to drop the food off and would have her hands full. Jane casually agreed, and asked which car they'd take, hopefully Brody's.

Kate flipped a small set of keys to her sister from the hook near the front door as they stepped out. Brody silently waved for all the other guests to come watch.

Jane stared at the cute little car out front and asked Kate who it belonged to. Kate simply replied, "Well, it belongs to you, little sister."

Jane turned in shock and saw everyone stepping out, ignoring the sprinkles to look at her new small hatchback. It was a Fiat 500, only a handful of years old and in great condition, white with black trim. Brody told Liam and Cora about all of the car's merits, and further explained that he'd traded in another vehicle and gotten it for a steal. Jane was jubilant; she said she wanted to sleep in it that night, which brought laughter from all.

While in her state of euphoria, Jane said she had a little gift for everyone and hoped they would enjoy it. She and Kate first drove up to share some food with the Moynihan's, then returned quickly so Jane could prepare. The table was cleared and removed, and the telly was turned off.

Jane stood in the center of the living room, both nervous and happy, and began to sing. It was an old folk tune, sung in Irish. The small crowd was transfixed by the pure splendor of Jane's A Cappella performance. Brody couldn't understand any of the words, but was nonetheless moved by the range and emotion; it filled the house with mellow joy and wonder.

When Jane finished the last, lingering, perfect note, all of the guests roared with applause. Father Doyle implored her to be a soloist in the church choir, Mary and Alana endlessly praised the blushing girl, and Brody offered to buy studio time to have her recorded.

As the last of their guests bade fond farewells and finally drove off into the night, Brody and Kate relaxed and made a few calls. He and Jamal talked for a short while before Carla and Kate were eventually handed the phones to have their first official chinwag. Brody noticed that with Kate's growing self-confidence came that infamous gift of gab. The ladies' conversation quickly turned to the subject of Jamal and Carla's upcoming wedding, so Brody excused himself to begin cleaning the big mess in the kitchen. He assumed Jamal had made his own excuse to escape as well.

When the call finally ended, the couple talked of various topics while they finished cleaning. Kate unnecessarily gave the reminder to call Simon; Brody had it in mind and was looking forward to it, only slightly concerned that his cousin would refuse the offer to come visit.

Kate sat on one end of the couch with her feet up, making searches for charities on her tablet; Brody sat on the opposite end and dialed his cousin. He and Simon made small talk before the subject of a visit was broached. "Hey, man, I got this idea in my head," Brody began. "All I've got is Kate's family to hang out with over here. They're great people - you'd love 'em - but I was thinking that I wouldn't mind having my own kin visit. If you don't have other plans, why don't you come out for Christmas?"

There was a pause on the line, and Brody waited expectantly. Finally, Simon replied. "Damn, cuz, that's a bang up offer, but I don't think I can swing it this year. It's just... I -"

"Simon, let me make this simple," Brody said to smooth over his cousin's discomfort. "This isn't some pity offer; I don't do that, ever. This is all purely selfish. You're my family, my only real family, and I want us to get together when we can. I'd come out there to visit you, but since you said you weren't fond of where you lived anymore, then I doubt we'd have much fun. So just say yes, okay?"

After another awkward moment, Simon said, "Well hell, I wouldn't mind gettin' away for a spell, that's for sure. And those pictures you sent look real good..."

"Cuz, you'll love it out here."

Simon sighed. "I reckon so, cousin, but... even with you payin' off your big order, I just can't -"

"Yeah, you can - It's on me," Brody interjected, thinking that was why his cousin was so distressed. "I'll take care of everything," He knew Simon pretty well by then, and just needed to push until his cousin got past his own pride and accepted the offer.

"Brody, I can't let you do that."

"Again, yeah, you can. I'm insisting, Simon. Like I said, I'll make all the arrangements. All you need to do is go get a passport ahead of time, then pack some bags and go to the airport a few hours before your flight."

"Are you sure about this, cuz? It sounds like a pretty flush bid."

Brody wasn't sure what 'flush bid' implied, so he just said, "It's simpler than you think, and I got a little money sittin' around doin' nothin'. You just remember to bring all that stuff I ordered. I really doubt they'll be carry-on, so get a receipt for everything if you need to, okay?"

"Yeah, I can manage that," Simon agreed. "But just to be sure, you're not doing all this because you think I'm some lonesome bag of marbles with a hole in the bottom, are ya?"

With a frown of frustration, Brody said, "We've been over that before. And let me tell you something; not only do I still believe you, but I've also learned some stuff recently that might shed some light on it. So in about a month, close up shop for a week or two and get your ass out here."

Simon chuckled and mumbled to himself, "First the world stops hatin' me, and now I'm gonna ride on an airplane. This can't get much better."

"Say what?" Brody asked, curious and concerned, not sure he heard his cousin's words correctly. "The world hates you? What the hell does that mean?" He glanced at Kate, who looked back with an expression of curiosity.

Simon cursed himself. "Uh, it was just the peyote talkin', cuz - nothing to worry about."

"Yeah... I'm not buyin' it." Brody's voice became stern. "What else is going on, Simon? Do you have problems out there or something? If you're in trouble, you tell me now, and I'll be there yesterday."

"No, no, cuz, I'm as fine as a flea on a coon's ass here." Simon wasn't prepared to give Brody the rest of his bizarre story, not yet. It wasn't that his cousin hadn't earned that trust, but Simon could only imagine the worst reaction once he told it. Then again, Brody was ready to drop everything to come and help, and a man like that deserved the truth about his family. After all, he took the whole 126-year hibernation thing pretty well. He'd earned the right to the whole story; not then, but soon. "There's just something I haven't gotten around to sayin' yet, but I'd rather tell ya in person. I give ya my word, I'm doin' fine, alright?"

Brody reluctantly let it go. "Okay, then we'll see you in about a month, okay? I'll bug you again in a few days. Oh, and hey, Kate and I are really looking forward to you coming out here."

"Me too, cousin, can't wait. And, hey... thanks."

***

In the following three weeks, Brody built another outbuilding on the edge of the nearest southern paddock for his sculpture work. It was a longer stone structure than the sheds, and fully enclosed. Kate was given proof of his focused strength when he carried a few of the larger stone blocks from the supply shed to his new workshop.

Many smaller figurines were made in preparation for Christmas markets that were soon to be held in a nearby larger town. Brody planned on renting a booth for a day and see how well his items moved, if at all. So in early December, on a sunny Saturday, he and Kate sat in their booth and chatted with shoppers. They sold a majority of the smaller sculptures, but only a few larger works. That gave them better ideas for pricing, and what varieties were more popular.

Brody found yet another reason to enjoy church attendance, beyond the socializing, time spent with the McCarthy's, and the feeling of solace he found there. Jane had agreed to sing with the choir as a lead vocalist. Early on, Kate had pointed out people's reactions when her little sister sang; they would recline in their pew seats and smile, or sometimes slump from formal postures and sigh.

Jane's voice was more than a talent - it was a gift. Brody and Kate privately wondered whether that gift was natural or fae. In either case, they thought it was worth lending assistance if Jane chose to pursue singing. Brody contacted the radio station he had business with and made arrangements with studio engineers to work with Jane if she wanted to have herself recorded.

Alana was spending a Sunday afternoon at the Lynch cottage in early December, and she mentioned a rumor had started about Brody. Robbie Kelly, a nice young man who'd always had a soft spot for the boisterous Miss Quinn, had told her of a conversation between some locals he'd overheard.

Alana said she listened casually while Robbie bought her a pint and told of Brody being a flahulach (Kate explained to him that the word meant wealthy and generous). Brody became concerned about his privacy until Alana said she told Robbie to keep his gob shut. She had to explain to the younger Murphy that if the talk got too thick, then Lynch would move on and the village would be out of luck, including Robbie's job, however temporary. It was reason enough to keep it under his hat.

Brody and Kate set up their first Christmas tree together on the eighth of December, and spent the day hanging the holly wreath and stockings, sipping warm cider, wrapping presents, and making love. By the next evening, there was little room under the tree for all the festive boxes, and they used a spare room for all of the family gifts. Kate assured Brody that Jack and Fiona would be groaning at all of the noisy toys he'd bought for their children, and he heartily agreed with an evil grin.

The day that decorations went up around the cottage was also the same day that the radio station began its contest for the house giveaway. Brody had chosen the largest home he owned to use for the contest, and made sure that it was seen to by the labor detail and the construction crew.

More importantly to Brody, though, was the 'holiday helping hand' radio event, which started the same day. The promoters called Brody and Kate soon after the commercials for it began airing, and said emails and letters were pouring in. They needed confirmation on a few specific circumstances that were more costly than initially discussed. After hearing about those serious situations, Brody and Kate agreed without hesitation.

Many local news agencies had taken notice of the ratings spike during the 'helping hand' airings and mentioned it in articles. On behalf of the sponsoring foundation, Kate declined an email request for an interview, but the news still spread quickly.

The show hosts would read anywhere from a few to a handful of letters a day, and then contact those people in need while on the air and tell them the good news. It had become worthy of local gossip, and Brody would listen contentedly to accounts of a single mom getting a car, or medical expenses paid for a seriously ill child, or the numerous people assisted with overdue bills or vouchers so their kids could have a Christmas.

Kate noticed the influx of petitions sent to the Rose Foundation, but that was secondary to Brody. Anonymous and safe, he was able to reach out and help folks in immediate need with the money he formerly carried like a burden.

As for the foundation itself, Brody and Kate kept it a private affair and was a common topic at home. They had thus far chosen nine charities for donation, most of which dealt with animal rescue groups or children's assistances. When in the village, which was ever increasing, the Rose Foundation was never mentioned. Instead, the couple busied themselves with socializing and letting Brody familiarize himself with the people of Ballaghadaere.

The couple visited Kate's friends and family, attended sport events, began sitting in on the weekly bingo games, and continued their church attendance. As Kate's little sister was now old enough to stay later in pubs, she took the opportunity to practice her singing when players gathered, or just with her brother Jack on fiddle and her boyfriend Donal at the piano. Brody and Kate were usually present, making the best of those gatherings to mingle.

Jane would ask for odd jobs of Brody and Kate from time to time before Christmas, looking for a little extra cash for gifts. The couple usually found something for her to do, and she'd zip over in her treasured little car. On a few occasions, Jane would bring a friend or her new boyfriend to share the labor and money. That young man, Donal, was initially fearful of Brody because of his massive size, but was put at ease before being told that the one to be worried about was Jane's brother.

Jane thought it odd that her new best friend Sara never wanted to come with her on those ventures, but they spent a lot of time together otherwise. Jane always offered to go and pick up Sara at her house, wherever it was, but was always told that she was in or near the village at that time. Sara seemed to be keeping secrets, but Jane had one of her own and so couldn't fault her new, enigmatic friend for it.

Also during that time, in the Lore, Gideon had sent a message of warning and plea for assistance to his fellow morpher Kazimir. It was not long after that the stout fae came to his little friends' holdings to discuss the message.

Gideon didn't know who attacked him, but the burly fae listened closely and was reasonably sure who the culprit was. And to Kazimir, 'reasonably sure' was enough to take action. He invited his little friend to partake of his own sizeable holdings and regain his power all the quicker; Gideon meekly thanked him for the offer and agreed.

Soon after, the big morpher opened one of his few bridge gates and departed for the Verden once again, that time with dark intent.

Chapter 23

Harkin was tall for a male of his low-caste fae species, standing at nearly five feet. He was a harpy - one of the scarce males of his race - who were normally affiliated with and served the Drommen fae. This occasion was no different.

Matted, ash-gray hair hung low over his hunched but lean torso. His dark eyes were bloodshot and rimmed red around the lids. Harkin's face was long, slender, and sallow, much like his nose and scowling mouth. His large bat-like ears, while prominent and ugly, provided excellent hearing. His arms were a bird's wings, but at the end of his radius bones were simple, grasping claws ending in talons. The feathers ranged from dull white to jaundiced yellow to a gritty gray. Harkin always wore a worn crimson vest and trousers, but was shoeless to take advantage of his splayed, clawed feet.

Among the low-caste of fae, harpies were proud and sometimes arrogant, but never to a high-borne race. They were favored by the Drommen for their intellect; a dim low-borne would not be kept long in the service to the wisest of the fae. Harpies were known for the power of their voices, used for both defense and offense; an effective tool for protecting their masters.

Harkin had recently been chosen to serve the venerated Mistress Enochia of Eight not long after his old master - a fine elder in his own right - had finally succumbed to the everlasting dream. On a quiet and drizzly mid-December night, Harkin was to officially begin his service to his Mistress by escorting her to a meeting with a magistrate from the Circle, and he planned to prove his worth.

As Harkin approached the black tent in the starlit night, he saw no guardian or bell to announce their presence. He turned back to his Mistress in confusion, not sure how to proceed considering the poor arrangements. Her gentle shrug allowed him the latitude to improvise. He began to release a vocal pitch that would cause no harm to a high-borne, letting it out slow and sure as it grew in strength.

Almost immediately, the large steed out in the field whinnied and bolted. A moment later, the flap to the tent was shouldered open by a pixie. The little brunette fae was holding her hands to her ears and violet blood was trickling from her tiny, petite nose.

Moyna was about to scream at the harpy when he suddenly went silent and sneered at her. From the pixie's position, she only saw him. "What do you want?! What?! You are disturbing the magistrate! Foul harpy! Flee before you anger him!"

If only to show his etiquette, Harkin stood straight and tugged his vest. In a soft voice, almost a whisper, he said, "I am announcing the presence of the Lady Enochia, you festering boil; The Lady Enochia Eversight, you offensive excrement; The Lady Enochia of Eight, you worthless bug. Now bid her entrance before I rip off your flimsy wings and use them as floss."

The alarmed little fae darted her head around the tent flap and saw the Oracle waiting patiently. With a flitter of her opaque wings, Moyna bowed her head and pulled the tent flap open wider. "Forgiveness, Lady, I beg you. The magistrate awaits your presence within."

Enochia slid silently past and into the tent. Before Harkin followed her in, he stepped close to the pixie and whispered, "Be inconsiderate to my Mistress once more and I will sing you a tune that will make you literally explode." He shouldered past the fretful Moyna and followed his Mistress in.

Devlin stood when he saw the elder Drommen enter. "Enochia, I thank you for seeing me in such timely fashion."

"Of course; how may I assist you this time?"

Enochia remained standing on the far side of his desk, so Devlin remained on his feet to match her posture. "You pleaded for time to let some scenarios play out." He sighed and looked her in the eye. "Because I have seen no remarkable differences since that grant, I am calling an end to your grace period." He'd practiced his expression of regret in a mirror.

"You realize," the elder Drommen said as she folded her hands in front of her, "that many alterations can be subtle. It is shifts in nuance that come along slowly, progressively. I do not entirely blame you for missing the signs of how situations are transpiring."

Devlin was tired of the elder's sly, condescending tongue. His patience with her was at an end. "Your stalling, for whatever trivial purpose, is no longer effective. I have been lenient and gave you the time you asked for, but you were unable or unwilling to rectify the breaches of Enigma. Your failure has forced my hand. You will tell me whatever I wish to know, or you will face the decree of the Circle, which I will enforce."

Enochia slowly nodded. "Of course, magistrate, you have my compliance. Perhaps I could save you time for your mission. In not wasting your time with what you may already be aware of, why don't you tell me what you know and I will give any other pertinent information that would aid you."

Smiling inwardly, Devlin knew he had the elder backed into a corner. She was finally aware of the power he wielded. 'Look at her fawn and scrape while trying to maintain her dignity', he thought. "I have gathered that there are possibly three humans in breach; Cora McCarthy, her daughter Kate, and most likely a man named Brody Lynch. The pixies were a font of information, as well as Verden news prints and gossip. Are there any others that you know of, elder?"

With a slight shake of her head, Enochia said, "None others that I am aware of, and Mr. Lynch was only an assumption. Assumption is not fact, so I leave it to your office to clarify that matter."

"Very well, and trust that I shall." Devlin then continued. "While waiting for your supposed scenarios to come to fruition, I also learned the whereabouts of Lynch and the McCarthy daughter. I'd watch them come and go as I sat on the Moynihan's porch, and even greeted the big man on one occasion when he stopped to speak with the old couple. In respect of your wishes, I didn't tamper with his mind in the least."

"I hoped you would have attempted that very thing," Enochia cryptically remarked.

"Alas, that time is over." Devlin placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. "I have the big man and McCarthy scouted. What I don't know is where to find Cora, the mother. I've seen mental imagery from one of the village folk of what her residence looks like, but I don't know its location. And you will give me that information."

Enochia pursed her lips. "Magistrate, when I visit the Verden, I rarely leave my havens. Being here is one of those rare occasions. I have no reason to visit humans, and therefore don't." When she saw that Devlin was about to speak, the elder quickly went on. "From my interactions with the other fae of the area, I only know that she resides on the southwest edge of the village."

Devlin studied her a moment, and then slowly sat in his chair and crossed his legs. "I cannot see past your defenses, Enochia, and so can only trust that your words are true... for your sake. I will see to the others first, and then I will correct Cora McCarthy's memory. But I will not waste more time searching for her." With a thin smile, he explained. "When I request it, you will deliver the woman to me. Failure or delay to do so will place your own mind in peril; I will gain clearance from the Circle, and you will be forced to receive a fogging of your own. After I am satisfied with the humans, and possibly yourself, then I will be speaking to those that allowed the breach."

As she dropped her head, Enochia quietly said, "There is so much you do not see. If you continue on your course, Devlin, you will be made aware, and I will be unable to prevent any of the outcomes."

"I've heard enough of your mystic's babble, elder. At this point, you should only be concerned for your own welfare. You will give me the locations of the fae involved once I take those names from the McCarthy's and Lynch." After a moment's pause, Devlin added with a malicious sneer, "Let us hope that I do not find your name in their minds, Enochia." He waited until he thought she was about to speak, and abruptly dismissed her. "That will be all for now. You are excused."

Harkin brushed Moyna out of the way with one powerful wing and opened the tent flap for his Lady with the other. Enochia strolled out with the same casual gait as when she'd entered. Once she and her harpy servant had walked far enough away, she stopped and turned to him. "Harkin, there are errands for you; one for this evening, and the other tomorrow morning."

"I'm at your service, Mistress. Tell me, and it will be done."

"Leave from me now, and go find a pixie named Neela. She will be near about the Lynch cottage, with orders to follow their movements from a safe distance. Bring her to me at my haven."

"I look forward to it, Mistress."

Enochia nodded absently, thinking of the magistrate. His poor mental defenses were especially weak when he was vexed; the pixie Neela was foremost on his mind, like an apple for the picking.

Brief images abruptly flashed in front of her mind's eye. To herself, the oracle murmured, "Two will fall..." She looked at her servant once more. "Then, at a later time in the morning, you will deliver a message to the one called Liadan."

Chapter 24

Humming to herself as she straightened up around the house, Jane was in fine spirits. On this, her first day of Christmas vacation, her parents were out shopping for the morning and her chore list was short. Her new fella Donal was busy helping his family move their herd of sheep, so she soon had time for herself.

In the midst of dusting, Jane's new friend Sara called. She'd been dropped off in the village and asked to come round. Happy to have company, she gave Sara directions. While Jane finished her cleaning, she at first thought it was too bad that Sara wasn't going to be in the Christmas play with her the following evening, but then dismissed it. The new girl wasn't really the theatre type, although she was quirky and had a flare for the dramatic.

In some ways, Jane's new friend was like a child, reveling in simple items that everyone else took for granted. Conversely, she also came off as worldly, wise about history and geography, and knew more languages than Jane had ever heard of anyone knowing. Sara was a constant surprise.

A light knock on the McCarthy's front door came soon after the call. Jane opened it for Sara, who stood with a hooded dark green raincoat surrounding her pale features. The low, dark and ominous clouds had just begun releasing a downpour, so Jane swung open the glass door and said, "Just in time, from the looks. Hurry up."

Sara remained where she was, and formally asked, "Am I welcome in your home?"

The question caught Jane off-guard. It was true that Sara hadn't been inside before, but there was no reason to make an issue of it. Jane thought that maybe the girl's family was taught to be prim and proper, like posh Dubliners used to be. It was Sara again being her strange, puzzling self. "Of course you are, ya daft girl," Jane answered with a grin. "Now hop in before it starts to lash."

A short time later, Sara sat at the small kitchen table with a cup of tea and a plate of scones. Jane finished putting plates and cookware away, her coppery-brown ponytail bobbing and swaying as she finished up. Jane was idly mentioning how she wished she could snap her fingers and the cleaning would be done, and Sara took that topic to the silly notion of superpowers. Jane half-heartedly went along with the chat for a bit, if only to indulge her friend.

When the chance came, Jane switched the topic to boys, and possibly finding Sara a fella of her own. She went on to explain how she and Donal might be attending the same university in Galway, but slowly came to notice that Sara wasn't listening, and seemed quite distracted.

After finishing a scone, Jane took a long look at her friend and said, "So what's got you wandering through the fields?"

Sara was quiet for a few long moments before she looked at Jane. "I - I have a secret." She looked down again. "I'd like to share it with you. I think that you'd understand. I've been too afraid to let anyone else know... They might think I'm a freak or some such. My da doesn't even know." She looked back to Jane with pleading eyes. "I'm just scared of how you'd react. We've become such good friends in a short time, and I don't want you thinking less of me."

Jane was more curious than concerned. "Sara, don't go mental about it. I can't imagine anything that'd change my mind." After a moment's pause, she quietly asked, "It's nothing foul, is it?"

Sara smiled back demurely. "No, not in the least, I promise." She looked out the back door. "The rain's let off. I could show you now, while my courage is up. If you want, that is."

"What, like outside?"

Sara got up and went to the front to get their coats, giving Jane a moment to think about Sara's big secret. It couldn't be as big as her own, so she wasn't too worried. It would probably turn out to be a trifle anyway.

Handing Jane her coat, Sara said, "If what I show you puts you off, then we don't ever have to speak of it again, okay?"

Jane nodded with an agreeable grin. They made their way out into the back lawn, walking on the wet, spongy grass to the rear of the bush-lined property. Sara walked up to a large sun rose shrub, dormant and bare. She looked back to Jane and asked nervously, "Watch close, okay?"

After Jane nodded once with a confused look on her face, Sara turned back to the dormant plant. She reached in and pressed her fingers to one of the main branches as she closed her eyes. She eased her lids open to watch Jane's face turn from dubious curiosity to stunned disbelief as all of the latent buds on that branch came fully back into bloom.

The pods formed, opened, and blossomed; their large white flowers sprung into full form, all in the space of a few seconds, like watching a time-lapse camera. The bright green foliage and summer flowers of that lone branch stood in sharp contrast to the rest of the shrub. Sara released it and looked back expectantly at Jane.

"How did - What - I mean, like, what did you..." Jane, shocked and at first unable to form a coherent question, finally looked at her peculiar friend with wide eyes and cried, "That was fucking savage!"

Sara looked sheepish. "You don't think I'm a freak?"

"Are you mental?!" Jane answered excitedly. "That's like a miracle or something! You know, like, that healer on the telly, or the fishes and loaves parable! Sara, you have a true gift, like a blessing." They smiled at each other for a minute before Jane added, "I bet your garden is amazing!"

"No, no, it doesn't work that way," Sara said. "If I do it too much to a plant, I'll kill it. I learned that a long time ago."

"Okay, that makes sense, I guess." Jane looked at her friend for a second before she asked, "Are you like real religious or something? I've never seen you at mass."

"No, not really; I suppose it's more of just a nature type thing, like."

"Wait; are you like a Wiccan druid woman or something? I mean, I don't care if you are. I've just never heard of them being able to do, em, anything - especially anything like that!"

Sara giggled. "Now who's being daft?" Her expression became somber. "I just hope you don't think I'm strange or abnormal now or anything. I've never shown anyone before, and it's... scary."

Jane put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I've always thought you were a bit strange, Sara, but that's why I like you so much! But abnormal?" Jane took a deep breath and slowly released it. She looked around at the empty expanses surrounding the back lawn, and then back to her dark-haired friend. "If you're abnormal, then I am too."

Where Jane failed to look - where they both never thought to look - was up on the roof ridge of the McCarthy house; a large eagle owl with luminous orange eyes sat unmoving and watched them.

Frowning, Sara asked, "You can do something like I can?"

"Nothing like what you can do, sure. I have a secret myself, but it only works for me. No one's ever been able to see it but me."

Sara's frown deepened. "You don't have to play that with me, you know. You're just saying that so I won't feel like so much of a freak." Looking angry and upset, she stared at Jane before she turned and began walking back across the lawn toward the driveway on the side of the house.

Jane jogged to catch up with her, saying, "Sara, wait! It's not like that at all! Honest!" Sara stopped and turn back around, looking hurt. Hoping to repair any damage, Jane went on quickly. "I swear I'm as weird as you are." Trying to make light of it didn't have immediate results, so she pressed on. "I have a sort of trick of my own, but it never works with people around. I'd love to show it to you, but if it didn't work then I'm the one who'd look mental. So, see, I'm just as nervous as you were." Jane's breath came out in nervous fogs while she waited for a response.

"Well, perhaps I'm weird enough to see your 'trick'." Sara's face softened.

"I hope so," Jane smiled. "Let's go to my room, and I can try."

Sara's face scowled with suspicion. "Are you sure you're not trying to fool me? You could have a prop up there, or have the room rigged, like."

"No, really, I'm being straight. I just need something to draw on, is all."

Pointing to the glass patio sliding door, which had fogged after the rain, Sara said, "Then just use that; you'll only need your finger."

Jane went to the glass door and lifted a finger. She turned back to Sara, who had followed her. "No laughing at me, right? Just because it may not work doesn't mean that I'm not weird as well."

Sara crossed her arms. "We'll see. Go ahead."

With a slow, steady finger, Jane drew an outline of a door into the misted glass. Nearing completion, she began to concentrate, vaguely envisioning her play-room beyond. Just after she drew two single lines on one side where hinges would be, all of the fog on the glass was inexplicably drawn into her door outline, creating a bare gray rectangle on the clear surface.

Sara gasped, and Jane spun to her with wild eyes. "You can see it?! Tell me you can!"

"I - I see something..."

Jane elatedly said, "Watch - watch this." She turned back to the door, placed her hand on the right side, and pushed. The door swung open into an otherworldly darkness, as it always did before she entered. Jane turned once more to her astonished friend and held out her hand. "Trust me." She wiggled her fingers for Sara to take them. Together, they entered the play-room.

After the door shut, the big dormer-style room lit and revealed itself. Jane was beside herself with happiness; finally she could share her special place with someone. Well, someone real. Gideon was grand company but it wasn't the same as a real person, especially a friend that understood her... That was like her. She began pointing out all of the details of the room while Sara stood in place and stared around in awe.

For Saraid, her amazement was the first true emotion she'd displayed during the entire visit. She'd heard that Jane McCarthy could make space into the ether, and so it was. But the girl wasn't making spaces per se. If Saraid was correct, Jane could make fae-bridges, and with a mere thought! What a spectacular find! The human only needed to make another door at the far end of the room and think of a destination.

Saraid knew that other fae would beg or kill for this silly girl's gift, or for ownership of her. If Jane became known, wars might be fought over claiming her. That unearthly voice of Jane's had just become a distant second for the desires of Saraid's court. And there was no better time to claim her prize than right then.

"Jane..." Sara finally spoke, stopping the girl from her rambling. "What if you drew another door on a wall in here? Where would it go? Have you ever tried?"

"I - I don't know," Jane said, surprised but with a growing grin on her cute face. "I suppose I could -"

"Jane, we're home, love," Liam's voice carried through the house.

With an alarmed look, Jane quickly took Sara's hand and hurried to the door they'd come through.

"No, wait, I -"

"There's no time," Jane whispered as she pulled Sara back out onto the patio. "We can't be in there when my folks are looking for me. They wouldn't be able to find me, and then they'd worry sick." Jane pulled the door shut behind them and was dragging her fingers through the drawing on the glass just as her parents came into view within the house.

Liam walked into the kitchen, set down some bags on the small table, and then went over to the patio door. He looked at his daughter and asked with a smirk, "Bored, are ye?"

Jane began drawing a doodle into the dewy glass and shrugged. "Sara and I are just dossing about."

"Who?"

"You know, my new friend Sara," Jane explained and gestured behind her. She saw her da's eyes scan the back lawn, and then came back to her questioningly. Jane turned and looked, but her friend had apparently run off somewhere.

'Damn the elements!' Saraid thought after she was pulled back through the door. She could have easily restrained Jane from leaving, but wanted a willing subject... at least initially. Afterwards, what the human wanted wouldn't matter.

But Saraid's thoughts weren't allowed to wander long. As soon as she was back on the patio, the sound of a Lore beast roared with rage. Unknown and unheard by human ears, Jane and her father continued talking through the patio door. Saraid, however, knew she was more vulnerable in her human manifestation, and immediately removed herself from Verden sight.

Just as Saraid resumed her normal visage, a huge boar charged from the side of the house. She instantly knew who it was: Kazimir of the Callous Ruin. There was no time to contemplate why he was there or his reason for aggression. He charged at her with alarming speed; Saraid only had time to form a simple defense, hoping it would be enough.

She barely had time to transform before the huge, ugly beast reached her, taking the form of a tall hardwood tree stump. Had she more time, the tree could have been given more girth and density. The oak she transformed into had no time to expand before the boar made impact.

Kazimir had thrown himself into the charge with abandon, unconcerned with and unthinking of what defenses the dryad elder might present. He needed to strike before she could use her feminine wiles on him, or call nature to her aid.

The attack was retribution; both for her insulting behavior after Saraid had bedded the proud warrior morpher, and now also for the cruel treatment of gentle Gideon. Elder on not, she would pay.

Kazimir saw her transform at the last moment, but was committed to his charge and did not veer. With power borne of brawn and wrath, and that of momentum, he smashed through the tree stump head-first, his fury blunting any sound of impact. Only momentarily stunned, he stumbled on the wet grass and slid a ways further on his haunches. As fast as he could, the shifted morpher turned in his hulking boar form and looked back.

Chunks and splinters of wood were still in flight from the collision. Kazimir watched the larger pieces dissipate as they continued their arcs, disappearing before they ever hit the earth. The last to remain, the dryad's broken trunk, soon faded out of the Verden realm.

Saraid of the Moon Glade had been banished.

Kazimir stayed hidden, but resumed his barbaric bipedal shape. He quickly made his way back to the patio, where young Jane was inspecting the back lawn with a confounded look. The brawny morpher quickly regained an inner calm, and then glamoured the girl to forget her friend Sara entirely. For good measure, he went inside the McCarthy house and did the same for her parents. He waited a few minutes afterwards to make sure they all continued with normal dialogue or activities.

Satisfied, Kazimir left the house and looked up at the honking flock of geese flying overhead. The big morpher grinned with the idea that some hunting was in order to celebrate his quick victory. He shifted into his huge avian form and took flight.

Chapter 25

Neela braved the sporadically heavy morning showers in seeing to her duty for the magistrate. Since the night before, she had been keeping track of the human Kate McCarthy. She remembered sitting deep in foliage of the trees that lined the Lynch property until the lights went out in the cottage late into last evening. Neela decided she must have dozed off afterwards, because she woke groggily just before dawn. Nothing seemed amiss, so she felt no need to tell the magistrate about her long nap. He, Devlin Ryder, had marked her and Moyna, so he would know if she had strayed from her duties if he chose to check.

The ethereal mark placed on the two pixies - common to be used on any low-caste in service - was only a locational indicator. Some other high-borne would place deeper marks upon their servants for empathic linkage, or the use of a servant's senses, or sometimes even limited telepathy to direct that servant remotely. Neela was of the opinion that the magistrate was a self-reliant fae for choosing a simplistic mark.

The early morning fog was thin off the lake, and quickly replaced by intermittent showers. Hidden and dry within the tree boughs, Neela watched the humans McCarthy and Lynch as they saw to various outdoor chores with their dogs in tow. After spending time with the donkeys and seeing to their welfare, the woman went back to the big cottage while the man went to the new utility shed near where the pixie hid. Neela couldn't see his activities from her vantage, but felt the glamour pouring off Lynch in his apparently creative endeavors.

The sounds of tools tapping and grinding in that shed were followed by periods of curious silence. The sequence repeated a few times until Lynch went back to the cottage. Sometime later, the couple hurried out to their dark vehicle. They were laughing as they hurried to escape the new downpour, their words blurred in the hush of the rain.

Preparing to follow once the humans departed, Neela's simple mind had forgotten her nap and the guilt that followed. She had no memory of last evening's events when it appeared her consciousness drifted, but that was by design. Gone were the memories of Harkin the rude harpy forcibly taking Neela by her neck to Enochia's haven, where the oracle placed her own mark upon the pixie before having her returned with altered recollections.

When the vehicle finally came to a stop at a small, secluded house to the southeast of Ballaghadaere, Neela was aware that the magistrate was using his mark on her as a homing beacon. Using that mark, the pixie felt her temporary dismissal by him. She knew to return to Sir Ryder's base camp and await further instruction.

While glad to be of service to such a powerful fae, Neela felt the natural longing to travel aimlessly through the area, going where whim took her and her sister Moyna. From the warmth of children's laughter around the village, to the remote solitude of a pond hidden in a shady glade, the simple creature felt the urge of freedom. That liberty would not come just yet, not until she was released from service. However, that time would come sooner than she expected.

***

The latest pouring of rain had passed, but low dark clouds remained as a warning that more was to come. The dark gray SUV drove under that menacing sky and splashed its way down a drenched rural lane. Brody finally shut off the wipers just before reaching his destination. After turning into the short gravel driveway, he stepped out of the car while Kate remained seated, typing into her laptop.

Hearing the distant honk of geese, Brody looked across the surrounding fields and saw a small flock heading north, with a very large avian pursuing them. Within a few seconds, the birds were only dots on the gloomy horizon. Brody returned his attention to Kate and gave a loud "ahem" before shutting his door.

It was another moment before Kate closed the laptop and got out of the car. "Sorry about that, love. I just had to finish up a statement." She looked at the modest but appealing little bungalow they'd come to visit, which had recently been refurbished and landscaped.

"Kate," Brody said with a sigh, "I know you said you wanted to come with me, but I wouldn't have been offended if you stayed at home with the dogs. I know you're busy updating stuff, and I'm only checking to see how things look at a few of the places. It's no big deal." He didn't mind if she wasn't as openly enthusiastic about the progress of some of their ventures, but asking to come with him and then busying herself with other projects lowered his own zeal.

Looking back at him, Kate took a quick glimpse of Brody's nimbus and tried to assure him. "Honestly, I want to see all the work that's been going on. I just needed to clear a few things off so there'd be no further distractions" She gave him a warm, open smile and then turned to the charming, solitary abode. "This is quite attractive," she commented. "I think the red shudders and door against the whitewash works well. Quite appealing, don't you think?"

"Yeah, that color sure as hell pops." Brody walked beyond the rear of the car to look at the recently planted shrubs along the front lawn, parallel to the lane. "Father Doyle said these bushes will get pretty big and bloom red and white flowers from spring into autumn."

Kate turned from the house to him. "That sounds grand. Could we do something like at the cottage? Some white flowering bushes near the gate?"

Brody gave a half-hearted scowl. "I remember asking your opinion when I first started planting trees and bushes, and you thought it looked fine as it was."

Mocking him with a similar expression, Kate retorted with, "And I remember that I wasn't living there when you asked, so I didn't give a donkey's arse about your shrubbery."

He couldn't help but laugh out loud. Kate's inhibitions and self-doubts, at least around Brody, had become a thing of the past. He attributed her fae-sight for that newly found confidence, although he would have been just as happy if they went without any of the Other Crowd's influence, heritage, or graces. Still, she was a daily source of smiles, warmth, desire, and inspiration.

Brody was about to suggest they take a look inside when they both heard an odd-sounding vehicle coming up the lane. He knew immediately that it was a motorcycle, what some Americans would call a crotch-rocket. Kate had an idea what the high whine was, but was unaccustomed to them in that part of the country, let alone out on a rural road.

As Kate looked in the direction of the approaching motorbike, she thought she saw a small glimmer of color up in the sky against the dark backdrop of clouds. Looking again, she saw nothing, and so returned her attention to the sports bike and its rider, who came to a stop at the end of the gravel driveway. Seeing the leather-clad rider's nimbus, Kate's mild curiosity turned to fearful alarm.

Seeing the young man's long blonde hair under his small helmet, Brody recognized the rider and took a few short steps to him as the man turned off the purring engine. "Mornin', you're Devin, right?"

The younger man took off his helmet. "Devlin \- it's Devlin," He said as he shook out his hair.

"Devlin, right - sorry, I suck at names," Brody replied, trying to be amicable simply for the sake of being polite. He remembered meeting George Moynihan's grandson a week or so ago when he went to make further arrangements for hay, and to see how Ruby was doing with her illness. Sitting on George's small porch, Devlin was polite enough, but had an air of arrogance in his retro eighties attire. Brody had no wish to be social with the pseudo-rocker then, relative of George or not.

At their first meeting, the young man showed little interest in Brody as well, so he wondered why Devlin was stopping to say hello this time. "Looks like kind of a crappy day to be out riding around. What brings you way out here?"

Devlin set his helmet on the bike's seat and came around to the front of it. Raising a finger in Kate's direction, he said, "Her."

Brody's surprised gaze went from Devlin to Kate. Barely registering her stricken expression, he said, "Darlin'? Do you know -?"

Kate cut him off with a hoarse whisper. "Brody... dark sparkles."

Devlin turned back to Brody, curious of their interaction. He was more inclined to fix the breach of Enigma once and for all, however, and impatient to be done with it. Just for the insult, for whatever local fae who had a care, Devlin decided to scramble these human's minds while he adjusted their memories. Leaving this protected couple as little more than drooling children would let everyone know who they were dealing with, and what to expect if they defied him.

He looked up into Brody's surprised eyes, light blue to steely grey, and caught him in an entrancing stare. "Turn away and wait; your time will come soon enough."

Without meaning to, Brody turned toward the small road and field beyond, his legs following the command without his approval. A moment later, Devlin bellowed, "Kate McCarthy, show yourself!"

With a surge of protective rage, Brody forced himself to spin back around. Devlin was only a stride further away than before, and Kate was nowhere to be seen. With a growl, Brody took a quick step and grabbed Devlin by his leather collar. He didn't need Kate's nimbus to know that this trickster had bad motives. Brody let his anger loose to counter Devlin's intentions.

The Fair fae spun his head around in surprise, but it quickly turned into an annoyed frown. With inhuman speed, Devlin backhanded the big man, unconcerned whether the blow merely stunned him or broke his neck. Even with his size, the human was no match for him. What Devlin didn't expect was for Lynch to barely flinch from the strike. Even more surprising was when Devlin found himself flat on his back on the wet lawn after the big man gave a punishing backhand of his own.

Brody stood over the surprised young fae, and absently felt his big fists hardening and grinding as he clenched them. "If you're gonna bitch-slap somebody," he said through gritted teeth, "do it right."

Faster than any human could move, Devlin rolled and spun away from his opponent. In the midst of the freakishly fast escape, he dropped his manifestation, knowing the couple would be glamoured or dead before he was finished there anyway.

The young man with the retro rocker outfit was replaced by a taller form with oddly angular facial features and long, straight lemon-blonde hair. The leather jacket and parachute pants were replaced with fine black clothing under a few plates of lacquered yellow wooden armor. He wore no helm or gauntlets, but his breastplate, pauldrons, vambraces, and greaves were scrolled with intricate black detail. The armor was as nearly effective as it was aesthetic.

With a flash of movement, Devlin pulled out a crude but gleaming-sharp dagger. "So, yet another slumming troll, eh?" said the Fair fae as he moved gracefully on the balls of his feet, circling his adversary to the left. "Your kind will ever be mocked for your charities, catering to these weak folk."

Devlin was only slightly concerned; Lynch appeared braver than most fae when faced with a hand-wrought iron weapon, but the magistrate was confident in his own melee skills. 'This lumbering troll will soon learn to respect my skill,' he thought as he moved slowly and waited for an opening.

Faster than expected, Brody threw an arcing punch, like swinging a mallet. Devlin had misjudged the speed of his large opponent, and couldn't fully evade in time. What would have been a hammering blow to his head instead connected with his left pauldron, and fractured it. Devlin spun away, rolling with the blow, and kept his distance while he willed away the pain that throbbed down his left arm.

In quick retaliation, the blade arced in under Brody's raised fists and across his ribs. It was a long, shallow cut through his jumper and shirt, and the blood flowed freely. Devlin retreated in confusion; he expected to hear and see different results. Damage to another fae with his dagger always caused the skin to sizzle, and the blood to bubble and froth. Lynch should have been writhing in pain, but instead he mostly looked furious.

Brody knew that he was outmatched in skill. Even though he had the physical tools, using them in aggression was a rare thing since high school football. Brody hadn't been in many fights, and never wanted to be, but he knew the stakes were higher in this combat than in any common scuffle. If he were to lose, then Kate would be at this fae's mercy if she was found. That was unacceptable.

He began plying his stone gift defensively, hardening his skin to fend off any of Devlin's lightning-fast attacks. Beyond that, he could only hope for a bit of luck for a grapple or punch to end it. That hope was a frail thing when faced with the superhuman dexterity of an opponent who kept on the move, dancing in and out while he circled.

Devlin lunged in once, twice more, and then sprung back to survey the damage. On the second strike, the blade was deflected with a grating sound. He assumed that the troll, or whatever he was, must have something akin to the gift of stone, uncommon as that ability was.

The only tactic Devlin could think of to counter it was to work his way in close, enchant his big foe to drop his defenses, and strike quickly before he resumed his anger. Devlin was content to inflict lesser wounds; it would tire and weaken his opponent and give the Fair fae more time to gloat over his lumbering, faltering adversary. He could then deliver the killing blow at his leisure.

They circled and prowled each other, lunging, feigning, and evading. Brody's shirt and jacket soon were in ribbons and tatters, stained dark with blood. He charged or swung in his slackening attempts repay some of the damage he was taking, but with Devlin's inhuman quickness he felt slow and clumsy. He was only vaguely aware of the various stabs and slashes and the blood that seeped from them; only dim recognition of his sheen of sweat and panting breath.

Devlin was still as fast as ever, with only a broken pauldron and a cracked breastplate to show for the few mostly ineffectual blows Brody had managed to land. The Fair fae began flashing a sly smirk while the fight wore on. He'd then duck or spin his way close, entrance Lynch, tell him "relax", move for another cut, and then evade to a safe distance before those big, stony hands could touch him. Over and over Devlin used that mostly-successful tactic, and saw his foe wearing down.

Wanting to taunt his waning foe, Devlin retreated further. With a chuffing sigh, he said, "Your effort is in vain. But, to be gracious, I will offer you a choice of two fates. You can walk away now and live with the shame of your defeat, or you can lower your guard and I give my word to end it quickly."

Even with Devlin further back, Brody knew better than to relax; the fae could pounce and recoil before he could raise his guard again. He thought of any other tactics to employ before he was too weak. Devlin was in constant movement, but his knife was always out in front of him.

Brody clenched his fists in weary frustration, and a desperate idea formed. He'd been thinking with a normal person's frailties, and it had cost him. No more. All he needed was a way to provoke Devlin into recklessness; the fae's bloated ego was the obvious target. He took a deep breath and smiled while keeping his open hands out in front of him. "You haven't been able to 'end it' at all. What, are you gettin' worried? Lookin' for a way out? Go ahead, run away, fairy; now's your chance."

Devlin relaxed a bit more and chuckled quietly. "Leave, when I'm about to put down a troll warrior? Even if you are only most likely a young median, your defeat will only bolster my renown." His smile grew even wider as he tossed the blade from hand to hand with alacrity.

With an incredulous stare, Brody took a step back. "You really think I'm one of your people - a fucking fairy? Look at my blood, you idiot. It's darker than fairy blood... You know, like a human's?" He slowly shook his head in pity. "God, you're pathetic. You must get laughed at back home."

The sneer of his fae opponent turned into a snarling scowl, and he squeezed the knife hilt hard in his right hand. "Pathetic, you say?! It is I, Devlin Ryder, magistrate to the Circle of Prudence, who has the upper hand here. No matter what manner of creature you are, my victory is assured. You never had a chance, and offered me a sad martial performance as well. Now that is pathetic."

Brody edged back another foot nearer his car, wearing a curious smile while he appeared to lower his defensive posture. "Wait a minute, you're a... magistrate? Like some sort of law man?"

His opponent's sudden laughter incensed Devlin; that the defeated would mock the victor, not to mention of fae of his caliber.

Brody stopped his insulting mirth before Devlin could close the distance. "How would you tell that story? Something like, 'Devlin, law man of the fae, unable to kill an unarmed human'. Oh yeah, brag about that one, you worthless piece of shit."

Devlin set his jaw and started toward Brody. "Your mouth is as tiresome as your wretched skills in combat," he said with gritted teeth. "It is time for both to cease." The fae made no circling tactics or agile feints for what he planned to be the last engagement. With fast, intimidating strides, he went directly at his opponent.

Brody still appeared winded, crouched with his left hand out in a feeble defensive gesture. He hoped the arrogant fae would take the bait and go for the offered target.

Devlin could tell by the skin coloration that the large outstretched hand was unprotected by his stone gift. The easy target would be the last insulting infliction before he finished the irritating human once and for all.

Brody tensed in preparation for the pain. The long dagger plunged through his left palm and out the back, scraping a metacarpal bone on its way through. Before the nerve endings could send their screaming message to his brain, Brody turned his hand to stone. The crude blade, formerly impaled through flesh, was then embedded in granite.

Devlin attempted to tug his dagger free, but to no avail. He brought his left hand up to the hilt for a stronger pull, and prepared to wrench it free.

With Devlin momentarily stationary, Brody reached out with his stony right hand and grasped the fae's left wrist in a bone-grinding grip.

Frozen in pain, Devlin saw his hand pulled away from the handle. He looked up into Brody's eyes and saw not a tired, wounded man on the verge of defeat, but the grim determination of a powerful foe.

Without dramatic pause, Brody suddenly and violently twisted Devlin's arm. Bones in the fae's wrist and forearm audibly cracked and snapped, tendons gruesomely tore and noisily popped, all in one simultaneous and sickening cacophony. Before Devlin could issue a howl of pain, Brody turned to the left and yanked the fae forward by his useless, agonizing arm.

With speed borne of necessity - before Devlin could heal himself - Brody slammed the fae's slack left hand down on the hood of the car. Almost simultaneously, he lifted his impaled hand and brought it down, palm up, onto Devlin's restrained hand.

The blade drove down through its owner's palm and into the engine hood. Just as Brody twisted his left hand to snap the blade off and leave Devlin pinned, the fae let out a terrible, high-pitched scream that echoed across the fields.

Brody took a moment to look at the broken blade pierced through Devlin's flesh. The skin around the puncture sizzled like bacon thrown onto a hot griddle. The violet blood bubbled as it oozed out of the wounds from both sides of his hand. From it, there was a faint, sickly sweet odor of rotting meat mixed with citrus that wafted in the morning air.

The fae's scream died off, only to be replaced by incoherent babble and short howls of agony. Brody walked around and faced Devlin. He remembered Liadan's words, that any fae in contact with hand-wrought iron was blocked from any of its abilities; he was no longer in any danger from Devlin.

Just as the quivering fae was about to speak, Brody stepped forward and delivered a stone-hard head-butt on the bridge of Devlin's nose. The crunch of cartilage was more felt than heard. With his hand pinned, the fae swung limply back against the car. Pulling his otherworldly enemy back upright, Brody said, "That was for messing with George and Ruby."

He held Devlin straight, noticing his flattened and crooked nose oozing violet blood from the nostrils. Another flare of anger came over Brody, and he threw a hard, hooking punch into the side of Devlin's chest. Chips and splinters of lacquered wooden armor flew in all directions away from the crushing impact. Ribs were driven inward, making the swooning Devlin gasp and crumple. "That was for even thinking of going after Kate." He took a deep breath and waited for his beaten adversary to attain some semblance of cognition.

Devlin finally looked up with eyes both watery and wild from the searing pain that shot through his body. It wasn't pity that struck Brody, although he had no heart for murder, however justified. Nor could he kill out of omission, and let Devlin slowly die from his own knife wound. It would have been like watching a wounded animal, and neither assisting it nor putting it out of its misery.

Brody turned his gaze down to Devlin's impaled hand; it was trembling and twitching, and had turned an ugly purple and black with dark veiny lines running up his ruined arm. He then looked directly into the fae's eyes, no longer concerned of being enchanted. "Go back and tell your masters that Kate McCarthy is off-limits. I won't let you die, but don't take my kindness for weakness. If you go near Kate again, or any of her family for that matter," Brody leaned in, "I will kill you."

Knowing it would take Devlin a greater time to heal his grievous wounds, Brody still hesitated before he reached a hardened hand out and gripped the blade with thumb and index finger. The metal was unkindly yanked out of the car hood and through Devlin's hand, eliciting yet another scream.

Grasping his blackened hand, the defeated Devlin raised his eyes to Brody's. With jagged, rasping breaths, he said, "I would have... let you... walk away." It was as close to a plea as the proud fae would make.

Brody gave short shake of his head. "That was a pretty stupid thing to say." He then reared his arm back with the last of his reserves. The stony grey right fist shot forward and made jarring impact with Devlin's jaw. The punch was so forceful that the fae's body remained stationary while his skull took the brunt, snapping it around nearly 180 degrees with a grisly crack.

As Brody followed through with the punch that sapped the last of his energy and anger, he watched, seemingly in slow motion, as the lemon-yellow hair swung loosely while the battered body of Devlin Ryder fell to the lawn like timber.

Dropping exhausted to one hand and his knees, Brody looked over to see the fae's body dissipate in a slow display of tiny flickering lights and colorful dust; both lazily rose in gentle swirls and scattered in the breeze. Devlin's motorcycle at the end of the driveway inexplicably followed suit.

"Brody!" Kate screamed, her 'blending' defense mechanism forgotten. She sprung from her squatted position next to a shrub near the door of the bungalow, and raced the short distance to where her love lay on the wet lawn. His clothing was in shreds, and bloody from knee to neck. "Oh dear Lord, Brody!" She knelt in front of him, careful not to let her knees hit his left hand; it was curled in front of him with a leather-wrapped bone handle sticking out of it.

Kate placed a trembling hand on Brody's right shoulder, one of the few areas on his torso without a wound. As tears began rolling down her soft cheeks, she haltingly whispered, "I - I'm sorry! Oh Jesus, I'm so sorry! I saw his nimbus, and I was so afraid. I - I froze. I couldn't make myself move to help you. I could have -"

"No, Kate," Brody said tiredly with his lids half open. He placed his right hand on her thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You did the right thing. You would've put yourself in harm's way... It would've distracted me. I'm glad you're safe." His eyes slid shut as he rested his head on his left bicep.

Kate felt so helpless, afraid of how bad some of his wounds might be, unsure of what to do next. Her hands were shaking and her eyes kept watering up, but she knew she'd have to compose herself or he'd die without attention soon. "Love, can you move? We need to get you help. It'll take too long to get an ambulance here." She stifled a sob and put a hand softly on his cheek.

Brody blinked and looked up into Kate's big, scared eyes. He smiled weakly and said, "Let me just catch my breath for a sec, darlin'." His gaze shifted just beyond her and glibly said, "Hiya, Liadan. You're a little late; you missed all the fun."

Kate spun her head around to see the tiny fae a respectful distance back, hovering a few feet off the ground. "Not all of it, I'd say, Mr. Lynch," Liadan replied with a simple smile. "I arrived just as you made that foolhardy sacrifice and managed to send the magistrate home for a time, I did."

Still looking back, Kate asked, "How did you, em... Why are you all the way out here, Liadan?"

Liadan hovered to them and gently landed on the lawn. "Suffice it to say I received word there might be a scuffle hereabouts. And no offense to ye, Miss Kate, but now's not the time for idle chat; Mr. Brody here needs a bit of tendin' to, I'd say." She looked Brody over as he laid there in stoic pain, and planted her hands on her wide hips. "Made a right mess of yerself, ye have. Now let's get to cleanin' ya up a touch afore Miss Kate frets to death."

With softly glowing hands held over the various lacerations and stab wounds, Liadan employed her healing gift. As the hands passed over each bloody injury, the skin closed and began an accelerated mend. She had to have Kate lay across Brody's arm to hold it down while the remainder of the dagger was extracted, with Liadan careful not to touch the broken section of metal. Brody couldn't help but yell through gritted teeth when it was pulled out, but otherwise only winced as the deeper cuts were closed. The tiny brownie finally stepped back and nodded to Kate with a warm, dimpled smile.

Kate knelt next to Brody's large prone form and leaned over him. He was pale, but his breathing was deep and even. Liadan's mending left only pink skin in place of the wounds and would leave no scars. Looking back to his handsome face, Kate's eyes met his. He grinned at her and pressed his cool palm to her cheek, his thumb wiping away a trickling tear. She smiled back and said, "Tell me you're well. Please, Brody, I need to hear you say it."

"Just tired... and maybe a little dizzy. It's nothin' to worry about, darlin'." He slowly sat up. "I hate to see you cry, but at least you're smiling this time."

"Yes, well," Kate sniffed with a grin," only when you're a tara mess, so don't let it happen again."

"Yes, dear," he sighed.

They all heard another vehicle approaching. Brody and Kate craned their necks and soon saw Jack's work truck nearly flying down the waterlogged lane. The couple stood as the truck came to a sliding stop in front of the bungalow. Kate turned to the retreating Liadan and harshly whispered, "Please, my brother can't remember what he sees here. Please, Liadan!" The brownie's only response was to nod and then disappeared from normal sight.

Jack burst from his truck in the middle of the lane, leaving the door open as he ran to them. His eyes locked onto Brody, wearing tattered and bloody clothes. "Holy fuck, mate! What happened?"

Before Brody could respond, Kate asked, "Jack, how in Heaven did you know where we were? What are you doing here?"

Jack's frown turned into a crooked grin. "I can't rightly say, sis. The Gavin boys and I were out bidding a site when I got this queer pull in my gut, and I got this overwhelmin' feeling that you and Brody were in a bad spot. I just hopped in the truck, ignored my phone, and followed that pull." He looked back to Brody, scanning his friend's horrid appearance. "Seems I was right, eh?"

Liadan appeared behind Jack's head, one hand out, nearly touching his tousled hair. She mumbled a few words. Jack's expression went from wild excitement to simple confusion. "Well, um," he said vacantly, "thanks for lettin' me see the place. I'll see if Dan or Tom is interested. I, um... I need to get back before the wind goes Baltic." With slow, hesitant steps, Jack turned and walked back to his truck. He gave one quick, unsure wave and drove off.

Kate visibly slumped, and Brody let out a deep breath. Liadan allowed her form to be seen again, hovering closer to Kate. A glint caught Brody's eye and he moved away from the two. Kate looked up to the fae, who was smoothing her apron. "Thank you for that, but especially for saving Brody. I am in your debt."

"All I did was to save ya some tough explanations down the road. I'm sure Mr. Brody would have made it through just fine without me giving a hand. As for that one named Jack... your good brother, ma'am? He's got a touch of a seer's gift. It should be tempered with patience and wisdom, if he be such a man."

Grinning wide, Kate replied, "A bit of wisdom, perhaps, but patience?" She shook her head ruefully. "And don't play yourself off so casually. If there is anything we can possibly do for you, all you have to do is ask."

Liadan raised her brows as she cocked her head to the side. "Well, if ye be feelin' up to it, I might ask ya to plant some bluebells come spring. I'd help tend to them, a' course. Oh, and if you're inclined, ye could leave out a cup of cream now and again." Her deep dimples made another appearance. "That is, if it's no trouble, ma'am."

Kate smiled back. "Bluebells sound grand, and we'll leave a pint of cream out every Sabbath evening. You're welcome in our home at any time. That may not sound exceptional, but it's a big step for us."

"It really is," Brody said from across the small front lawn, "but you've proved your friendship, and then some. You'll always be welcome."

"A kind gesture it is, and with me knowing some of the other visitors to your land, both good and bad, I realize the weight of the offer."

Kate was still looking over at Brody. "What is that?"

He smiled and flipped the broken length of the dagger blade in his hand. "A sort of keepsake," he answered, and then looked at Liadan. "Again, like Kate said, thank you. I, uh, hate to be rude, but..." he turned to Kate and asked, "Darlin', would you mind driving me home? I'm exhausted, and I'm startin' to freeze my ass off."

Chapter 26

In the premature dark of a cloudy evening, Enochia stood with hands clasped in front of her, idly looking about the ruins of Moylaira Castle. The nearest stone walls were illuminated by the antique lantern in Harkin's clawed grip.

Sensing the approach of the one she invited to the meeting, Enochia turned to the northwest and pointed behind her for where her servant should stand. Harkin moved quickly into place but leaned around his Mistress to see a large silhouette striding up the slope, a vague black shape against a dark and gloomy night sky.

With warped staff in hand, Aldritch of the Old Wood stepped over a low, crumbled wall and into the secondary light of the shielded lantern. Stepping no closer so as not to loom over the oracle, the huge dryad planted his staff and bowed his head to her. "Lady Enochia." His low voice disrupted the calm silence like a rumble of thunder.

Nodding her head in return, the Drommen spoke in soothing tones. "Aldritch, I appreciate your accepting my request to meet, and am glad to see you in good form."

"I think it would be unwise for most to decline an offer from you, Lady. There is always a reason for the words you might offer, and I am not fool enough to deprive myself of them."

Enochia smiled serenely in the dim light. "You were ever the eloquent fae, good Aldritch. And so as not to prove your words false, I shall forego our normal pleasantries and get to the heart of my request, if that will not offend your high regard for etiquette."

As his giant hand slowly swung out in a welcoming gesture, Aldritch said, "At your leisure, Lady."

With a slow, deep intake of breath, Enochia began. "There is a matter to be tended to, and your inclusion would be most welcome. This involves your human kin, the McCarthy's, as well as Brody Lynch, whom I believe you've met. I believe that other humans will come into play, but that is unimportant for now. There are also specific fae that are entwined in this web, and some deliberate actions have already been made by them. Devlin Ryder is obviously one of those, but you may not know that the elder Saraid of the Moon Glade has also involved herself personally."

Aldritch's heavy brows lowered in surprise. He knew of her, of course, being of the same race. However, that was where any similarities ended. Saraid was one for Lore games and ulterior motives, and her gift of sensuality was more stereotypical of a dryad, although she and Aldritch both held mastery over flora. She was a powerful fae and proud, rarely deigning to include herself into human activities other than the rare abduction, or to give a foul curse if offended. Saraid's reputation was respected, if not altogether savory in his view.

Before he could ask how Saraid might be involved, especially concerning his daughter Cora or her children, Enochia continued. "There has also been trickery in some cases, besides our own, and violence in others. The morpher, Gideon, has been banished by devious ambush not long ago. And just this morning, Devlin Ryder was banished in combat while attempting to carry out his duties. Just before that clash took place, the elder Saraid was also banished." Enochia paused for effect. "...On the back lawn of the McCarthy home."

The former curiosity and surprise of the huge fae turned into a simmering anger. "There was a clash at my child's home... and three banishments, all in such a short time? If you know, Lady, tell me if my family is well and safe."

The oracle lifted a four-fingered hand in placation. "Be at ease, good Aldritch. Your child and grandchildren are in good form, both mentally and physically. While others are acting for their own agendas, the ones at the center of the turmoil are Brody Lynch and your granddaughter, Kate."

Aldritch was dubious, and it showed on his lean face. "Kate is causing a stir? Gentle Kate, and her man, Mr. Lynch with her? He struck me as reluctant for battle, however capable; I surmised that, given his druthers, that human would seek serenity, not mischief."

Enochia pursed her lips. "Forgive me, I did not fully explain. It is their gifts that have caused a unique situation, not their actions. As you know, Kate has a gift of aura sight and has brought it to fruition. Likewise, Mr. Lynch, while not of fae blood, is also gifted in his own way."

Aldritch's skepticism was renewed. "A pure human... with a realized fae gift..."

"Gifted enough to send the magistrate back to the Lore; so, yes, I'd say realized. It matters not how at this juncture."

It had become a night of unexpected revelations for Aldritch. With a shrug, the huge dryad said, "If it is as you say, very well. So it is somehow because of their gifts that strife has arisen?"

With a sigh, Enochia came to the basis of their meeting. "Because of Kate's sight, but mostly because of Mr. Lynch's mental defenses, they are immune to glamours of forgetfulness or memory alteration. The magistrate was doomed to fail in his attempts to correct the breaches of Enigma, at least with them. Other activities that you would take unkindly to that involved your family were thwarted as well. The Circle of Prudence needs to be made aware of these unique circumstances; if not the Circle, then at least the elder who made the decree. Another session needs to be held to decide a wiser fate now that important facts have come to light."

With a small grin, Aldritch asked, "And did you not know these facts when Devlin first visited?"

Enochia returned the knowing grin. "Learning is sometimes a painful process. I believe he is wiser for his time spent around the village of Ballaghadaere."

"And what, may I ask," Aldritch queried as he leaned on his staff, "is the role you wish me to play in all this?"

"I ask that you be the one who goes to gather the Circle."

He looked stricken. "I don't think it should be I who..."

Enochia took two small steps forward. "I understand your reluctance. There may be some who still see bedding a human as a weak and unwholesome act, but it has happened before, more than you think. Most fae think little of such wild acts, if they think of them at all. We are creatures of nature and emotion, after all. And think of your progeny; they are all fit, with skill and verve, even if only half fae or a quarter. It is for them that this situation must come to a better conclusion than the dark road I see ahead. And who better to do that than you? Aldritch, you have motive, and a renown that carries weight. I realize that it may take some time to gather elders for this, but it should be you who sees it through."

With a scowl, Aldritch looked off into the black night. "You ask much of me, oracle."

"There is much at stake, sir dryad. Who better to ask?"

With a storm of emotion behind his mint green eyes, Aldritch looked back to Enochia's calm demeanor. "And if I decide that your reasons alone are not enough motivation?"

"I had hoped that they would be," Enochia's words were laced with resignation. "However, I am prepared to offer an incentive for a bound pact between us."

Aldritch had reason enough to do as she suggested and assemble elders for a Circle meeting, but knew better than to walk away from any fae agreement without as much as he could haggle for, especially when dealing with an oracle. He also knew that Enochia must have foreseen this, or at least guessed it. That she was willing to make a bound pact in order for Aldritch to follow through meant that it was a critical venture. "And that incentive is?"

"I currently hold the redcap Lorcan at bay under the curse of favors; that number is currently at four. I offer to hand the leash of that curse over to you. He would be at your disposal, and no longer under my command." Privately, Enochia had no misgivings or sense of loss with offering Lorcan over; she had used him for her purposes and had no further need of him. Not to mention that she loathed his presence. Besides, she had a good servant in Harkin to do her bidding.

Pale lips curled at the corners in satisfaction; Aldritch was intrigued with the idea of having that particular redcap under his thumb. He nodded and said, "I accept the offer, and recognize this as a bound pact. If you would, Lady, call him forth."

Enochia nodded and then closed her eyes. Only a few seconds after her mental calling, little Lorcan appeared by her side. He was currently chewing on some tiny Lore beast; one of its feet still stuck out of his mouth while he chewed, its vitae dripping down his chin and neck. Lorcan first looked at her, irritated, and then noticed the strange surroundings. When his gaze finally met Aldritch's, his eyes shot open in unmasked fear.

Aldritch took delight in Lorcan's reaction. He said to the disgusting little fae, "Through the agreement of a pact, your temporary servitude now belongs to me."

Lorcan spit the remains out, his big teeth stained with the unfinished meal. He looked up at Enochia, his eyes filled with horror and a perverse sense of betrayal. She merely looked down on him and nodded.

Before the terrified redcap could say a faltering word, Aldritch took a step forward and snatched him up by a strap of his dirty overalls. He stepped back, holding Lorcan like a parcel in his huge hand. The giant dryad looked at Enochia and issued a formal bow. "As soon as I make a few things clear to my new charge, I shall see to my obligation of our pact, you have my word."

Enochia bowed her head and gave a slight curtsy. "However long that chore might take, I hope for your success."

"As do I," he agreed, and then looked down and gave Lorcan a harsh shake. "Let's you and I have a private chat." He looked back to Enochia. "It was ever a pleasure to see you again, Lady; may the elements be kind to you." Aldritch abruptly turned and walked out of the dim light and into the black night, carrying the pathetic redcap like baggage.

Harkin moved tentatively next to his Mistress once the powerful dryad elder was gone from sight. "Are we concerned about the fate of the smelly redcap, Mistress?" The harpy servant said 'we' so that his thoughts on the matter mirrored hers.

"Not yet," Enochia said casually, "and only if he survives his present master."

Chapter 27

"It'd only be for a little while, darlin'," Brody said. "I wanted to get pictures of Ella and Shey on Santa's lap." He'd been trying to get Kate to relent for most of the day and into the evening since his fight with Devlin that morning. Feeling weak and chilly, he'd napped on and off since.

The dogs had stayed near to him the entire time; Honey even took post on the bed next to her master and ignored Kate's orders to get down. Brody suspected dogs who were in tune with their owners must have something akin to Kate's nimbus sight, but sensed rather than saw current states. Honey played the role of devoted caregiver, Keller was the sentinel and kept near the bed, and Pearl divided her time between napping with Brody and seeing what Kate was up to.

Kate flitted around the house the entire day with energy borne of anxiety, only once venturing out to market for iron-rich foods and drinks to help restore Brody's considerable blood loss. Despite his assurances between naps, she initially felt guilty about not coming to his aid that morning. By afternoon, that guilt had been quelled, but replaced with fearful 'what-if's'. What if Liadan didn't remove all possible infection; what if the blood loss resulted in anemia; what if Brody would have died. Kate's own imagination haunted her.

Anytime Brody was awake and merely resting, Kate was plying him with food and drink. It started with granola bars and apple juice, then small pork cutlets and baked potato with lime water. By that evening she was serving him pasta with sausage and peppers with red wine; all of it high in iron.

Brody almost felt guilty for the pampering, but Kate was resolute in her care for him. He noticed her constant activity and nervousness, treating him like fine china. It was new emotional territory in their relationship, somewhere he hoped they wouldn't visit again. For the time being, he didn't try to deter Kate from her tense activities, other than to ease any fears or self-incrimination. Brody decided to let his love see that he was on the mend; that is, until Kate's constant hovering got too old.

There was an annual event in Ballaghadaere set for that evening, when a fire truck would deliver Santa to the village hub, handing out small gifts to children and posing for photos. Jack and Fiona would be bringing Ella and Shey, of course, and Brody and Kate formerly had plans to attend as well in what was always a large crowd.

Under the new circumstances, Brody would have normally conceded to rest and plenty of fluids, if not for Kate's jittery attentions. In his mind, she needed out of the house more than he did; visiting with family and friends would do her worried mind some good.

"Love, you know you need all the rest you can get," Kate reminded him while she fluffed a pillow. By evening, Brody had moved to the couch, where he was made as comfortable as possible. "Fiona will be taking enough pictures for the entire village, I'm sure. We'll just get some of those."

He sighed, lifted his feet for the pillow to be placed under them, and said, "Okay, fine; you've tucked me in too tight to move, anyway. So why don't you just go, Kate? Ella's crazy about you. It'd make her sad if you weren't there."

Kate stood straight and glared at him with narrowed eyes. "That's foul play."

Brody sighed, "Oh stop it. You know you wanna go, so just go. It's not like I'm gonna go for a bike ride or anything. You've set me up like a king here, and the dogs will look out for me while you're gone. Go have a little fun, darlin'. You've been buzzing around the house like a fly all day. Go get out for a bit; I promise I'll be fine." He reached out to hold her small hand. "Please."

Finally wavering, Kate quietly said, "I did want to see all the smallies with their smiling, rosy cheeks..."

"Yes, you did." Brody let go of her hand and gave her a pat on the thigh. "Go see all the kids with Christmas in their eyes. Give Ella and Shey a hug for me, and tell Jack and Fiona I'm sorry I couldn't make it. Just say something about me having an Atlantic call I couldn't get out of. Oh, and get some shots of all the village lights so I can brag to Jamal."

Kate hesitated. "You're sure...?"

"Sure, I'm sure. But first..." Brody took Kate's hand again and pulled her on top of him. Her face was awash in fear that she might hurt him, but he smiled and wrapped his arms around her. Kate's concerns were eased when Brody leaned forward and kissed her longingly. As their mouths lingered on each other's, his hands began sensually roaming and groping.

Kate broke the kiss and breathlessly whispered, "Brody, you shouldn't..."

Their eyes locked, both briefly mesmerized and basking in the moment. With a sly grin, he said, "Yeah, you're right. But when I'm back on my feet, I have plans for you, darlin'." He gave her a playful slap on the rear to break the mood. "Now get off me and get going. I swear, Kate, you're a nympho."

She scrambled off him, torn between indignation and laughter. With a sudden move, she pulled his foot pillow away and hit him in the stomach with it. Smiling triumphantly, Kate stepped back. "It seems you need to work on your defenses, big man."

Brody grinned back as he held the pillow, looking at her beautiful face. Gone were the apprehensive frowns and fears for his health. "I let it happen for a reason, darlin'. Kind of like this morning."

***

Under vermillion Lore skies, there sat a tree in a hilly, golden terrain with occasional outcroppings of dark rock. The shape of the Lore tree was reminiscent of the Verden olive variety, with its contoured, thick trunk and gnarled limbs, but with an immensity that was comparable to Verden sequoias. The vast leaves were white, dappled with green and sporadic shades of ochre.

Within the thick foliage was what some described as an opulent tree house. It varied in level, having rooms and platforms that widely ranged in size, and occupied most the spacious upper boughs in a circular design. It was there, in her most remote of Lore havens, that Saraid brooded and schemed.

Initially, she was unconcerned about the motivations of why that lump of a morpher, Kazimir, attacked her. Saraid was thinking more of how to both remove that particular warrior from play, and how she might secure Jane McCarthy for personal use.

She wondered if the human girl was being guarded by Kazimir. Possibilities hinged on whether the morpher acted of his own volition, or if he was following the orders of another; one who possibly knew about Jane's gift and was actually was concerned with her welfare. If the attack was for personal reasons, then Saraid could ignore any ideas of conspiracy. Then again, if another took Kazimir's place if he were somehow removed, it would be proof that there was a plot afoot. In any event, her first steps toward claiming the prize had to be cautious ones.

Saraid finally thought of why Kazimir attacked; the obvious answer was Gideon. That simpering little morpher had ties to the McCarthy girl, and was protective of her. It was also known that on the whole, morphers were a close-knit race, however animalistic and scavenging. A favor could have been offered to the brawny warrior to deny Saraid her prize.

In order to draw Kazimir away from his supposed post, Saraid needed leverage, something dear to him. The only fae she knew of to fit that description was Gideon, but he was already banished and hidden somewhere. So what else was important to Kazimir? Battle.

Saraid wondered how to call warriors to arms, noble trolls and haughty Fair fae alike, or any others of militant mindset. The answer was Ballaghadaere, or more specifically, its otherworldly inhabitants. Those rebellious fae were concertedly defying the magistrate Ryder in carrying out his duties. In resisting the magistrate they were resisting the Circle of Prudence itself, and in a manner that she would describe in the future as defiant glee.

Saraid thought there were few better reasons for a campaign to form than righteous indignation. If it took a small war to remove Kazimir or any others from her path, then war it would be. Saraid had no concern for the possible outcomes of the plan, save one: hers.

One of her nymphs quickly arrived when Saraid called for her. She held out a recently written scroll and ordered, "Take this to the estate of Devlin Ryder. He is most likely away, so do not wait for a reply if he is. Afterwards, gather four of the other servants and search for a leprechaun named Vaughn. Once found, and by any means necessary, I request his presence."

The little nymph took the scroll and darted off. Finally relaxed and in much better spirits, Saraid laid back and absently stared out through the dense foliage to her lands beyond. Slowly, her beautiful face formed a wicked smile.

Chapter 28

A few minutes after Kate left, Brody realized the time and was able to call Simon before he boarded his first-ever flight. Brody had made arrangements with a travel agency in Denver for his cousin's international trip; all Simon had to do was to wait for his passport and go pick up his tickets. In recent conversations and texts, Brody had told his cousin what to expect and what not to worry about.

Despite only having electronic means of communication, the two began to share a solid kinship. The strengthening bond of friendship had come along quickly, but nothing felt rushed or forced. They shared a natural rapport based on similar opinions and interests, only bolstered by the fact that they were the only close relatives that each of them had.

The chat with Simon before his initial flight was glib and filled with light sarcasm, but Brody heard the undercurrent of anxiety. It would be too late for another call when Simon had his layover in Boston, so Brody told him to enjoy the trip and he'd see him in the morning.

During one of his naps, Brody had missed a text from Jamal. He called his friend and financial advisor back just after his talk with Simon. Jamal answered, they exchanged pleasantries, and then the reason for the text was discussed. There were some higher-risk ventures that looked very promising, and Brody's approval was needed to move some of his safe capital around, should he allow it. There was more than enough trust to allow Jamal to do what he did best, and without hesitation. They chatted amiably for a bit longer before Brody let him go.

Brody was ready for bed by the time Kate came home, but he stayed up to look at all the pictures she'd taken. It looked like everyone had a great time; Brody didn't let his disappointment show that he wasn't there with her.

They then talked about Simon's arrival in the morning. Kate was still concerned about Brody driving on his own while not at full health, but he assured her that his being tended to all day had done wonders. Reasonably assured, Kate said she'd make sure that the cottage was in good form when Brody brought his cousin back, and with a big breakfast soon after. They slid under the covers and talked about plans to entertain their guest before Brody succumbed to fatigue yet again.

Feeling surprisingly refreshed after he woke the next morning, Brody cleaned up, gave Kate a smiling kiss goodbye and went to go get Simon. His feeling of anticipation overrode most of the dark images that were produced from the fight with Devlin. A few evocative thoughts of Brody's own death plagued his sleep, but worse were the images of Kate being left alone in danger. Once he was awake and alert, however, Brody felt revitalized, at least mentally. His body felt a little tender and weak, but nonetheless energetic.

On the drive to Knock Airport, Brody surmised that the euphoria from escaping mortal peril had finally caught up with him. Then he considered that it might be exultation and pride in having defeated a powerful otherworldly creature. He finally chose to apply his buoyant feelings to Simon's impending visit, and let the matter go.

There was no mistaking Simon when the passengers came out of the gate; his wool-lined denim coat and western lawman hat set him apart. Nor could Simon miss Brody; his cousin was even bigger in person, and dwarfed everyone around him. They met with warm smiles and a firm handshake, and talked of the flight while they waited on Simon's baggage. As they loaded a trolley with heavy boxes, Brody's cousin reiterated his weakness for the Irish accent, and might fall in love with any woman who said a word to him while on vacation.

During the drive back to the cottage, Simon exchanged light and easy chat with his cousin while he continuously looked out on the lush, serene landscapes, and the cozy homes nestled into them. Eased into the comfortable leather passenger seat, Simon's gaze out onto the scenery was accompanied by more than one wistful sigh.

After the casual drive, Brody pulled up to the Bed and Breakfast that Simon had insisted on with his own money. They'd had that particular conversation on more than one occasion; Brody requested that Simon stay at the cottage, while Simon stated that he wasn't going to intrude upon his cousin's new relationship any more than necessary. A room at the B&B was simply a sign of respect. Besides, it was less than a mile away from the cottage, and he'd enjoy the occasional walk.

Being acquainted with the owners of the comfortable establishment from church, Brody greeted them and made introductions. They unloaded over half of Simon's luggage, said their farewells to the gracious middle-aged couple, and headed for the cottage. Kate and the dogs were at the front door when they arrived; Honey and her big children greeted their master enthusiastically, and gave Simon a few cursory sniffs of consent.

After Brody's perfunctory introduction, Kate only hesitated a moment before giving Simon a friendly hug. She stepped back and said, "Welcome to our home. We're so glad to have you here."

Simon was a bit overwhelmed from having so much warmth and kindness shown to him in such a short time. He had trouble finding the words, but finally replied, "I'm grateful, ma'am."

Kate turned to Brody and they shared a quick kiss before she said, "Now, you help our guest get situated, and breakfast will be waiting."

While Brody opened up the back hatch of his car to begin unloading, Simon took a few seconds to take in the cottage and what paddocks he could see from that vantage. Brody noticed him just standing there, so he took a step closer and asked, "Is everything okay?"

Simon was then looking out over the lake, but nodded. He turned to Brody and said, "Cuz, you've got a bang-up spread here. And, just like your lady, pictures don't do it justice."

Smiling at the compliment, Brody gave him a light pat on the shoulder. "While you're here," he said earnestly, "it's your place, too... lady not included." The cousins shared a quick laugh and then finished unloading the car.

Once the remainder of the luggage was piled into one of the guest bedrooms, they enjoyed lively and interesting conversation over a big morning meal. Between Kate's occasional Irish slang and Simon's ingrained use of old west parlance, Brody was the only one who best understood what both were saying. They all laughed at the simple misunderstandings and confusion of idioms; Simon even asked Kate to repeat some words and phrases in case he heard them again elsewhere while on vacation.

Soon enough, Simon sat back with a hand on his lean stomach and declared, "That's about the best meal I could hope for to start my day. Kate, you're even better in the kitchen than Brody bragged on." Before she could give a thankful reply, he stood and said, "Now you two get reacquainted; I'm gonna go visit them smart lookin' donkeys for a time."

As they watched through the kitchen windows as Simon strode across the back lawn toward the north paddocks, Brody asked, "So, what's your impression, darlin'?"

"Are you asking my opinion of your cousin, or about his nimbus?"

Brody put his arm around her. "Well, both, I guess."

"First off, I think he's odd, but not he's off his nut." Kate slipped her arm around Brody's waist and explained. "He's got a likeable sort of eccentricity about him that's modestly endearing. I'd say he's quick-witted, and I like his barbed sense of humor. And like I've said before, he must have some intellect to reintegrate himself into modern society as well as he has." She looked up at Brody. "Simon would fit right in around here."

"You and your big words," he said with a smirk. They began cleaning up the kitchen when Brody asked, "And his nimbus?"

Kate continued gathering leftovers, but had a thoughtful look. After a moment, she answered, "To put it simply, he's... euphoric. But," Kate stopped in her chore and looked over at Brody, who waited for her next words with arched brows. "Simon has an undercurrent of desolate sadness like I've never seen before."

Having only slept a few hours on each flight, Simon begged off going to church with Brody and Kate in order to get a small nap in. Upon their return, the couple found Simon out in the southern paddocks with the dogs, taking in the peaceful setting. Brody thought of Kate's words, of Simon fitting in, and another idea began to form.

They had a small lunch before everyone loaded into Brody's car, dogs included, for a drive through Ballaghadaere and nearby points of interest. When they got back to the cottage, Simon pointed out a few more informative details about equines, donkeys in particular. He'd worked with them a fair bit in his younger years, both from labor in corrals where miners kept their pack animals, and also while employed at the Cooper smithy.

With the mention of one aspect of Simon's former life, Brody asked a few other questions about his cousin's fantastical 'hibernation'. The ultimate goal was to get Simon to explain his cryptic statement from a month before, about being hated. That ambiguous aspect was somehow related to the rest of Simon's bizarre past, and he wanted the whole story.

Braving the cool breeze, Brody grilled steaks while potatoes baked; a meal that both men favored. While tending to the sizzling meat, Brody asked his cousin for an explanation. Simon, sitting on the patio, sipping juice and smoking an unfiltered cigarette, asked that the meal not be ruined with his story; he'd finally explain over dessert. Brody acquiesced and moved on to other topics.

With dinner eaten and out of the way, the three of them sat back down for slices of chocolate Guinness cake. There was enough time for more conversation before they all cleaned up and went to the school Christmas play that starred Jane, so Brody asked for Simon's full story. In return, he'd give his own. Simon wasn't aware that Brody and Kate were holding anything back, but still agreed.

With a somber set to his weathered face and straight, sandy hair shielding his hazel eyes, Simon gave an overview of what they already knew. With Kate present, he made sure to once again offer details to validate his story; he was sure Brody believed him, but wasn't sure where she stood. Simon then took a deep breath and told the rest of his story.

He tried to explain how society treated him when he walked into a new world. Learning everything from scratch in an alien environment was difficult enough, but he was also met with derision and hostility from literally everyone he encountered. Simon simply explained how that affected every aspect of his new life. And then, for some unknown reason, all that immediately ended when Brody first called. He used the situation with the visiting social worker as a prime example.

Simon noticed that Brody and Kate listened intently, and had asked a few questions during the telling for clarification or detail. There were no frowns of disbelief as he'd half-expected; rather, they'd share curious or knowing looks from time to time.

After Simon finished, he tentatively asked their thoughts. It was Kate who answered for them, but prefaced her answer with the request that Simon keep an open mind as well. With his nod, Kate moved closer to Brody and said that there were possible explanations for what happened to him.

On the edge of his seat, Simon's full attention was given to Kate when she divulged that she and Brody believed in fairies, creatures from folklore. They'd had numerous interactions with them recently, in fact, but would get to that later. In their extensive studies, Brody and Kate read old stories about abductions of both adults and children. With a few other details given, it could surely explain Simon's 'hibernation'.

Kate went on with what they'd learned, and described something that might offer more clues. Fae (the word 'fairy' was only used for the young and foolish of their kind) had the ability, amongst many others, to fog or alter memories; they had witnessed its use on her brother Jack. The Other Crowd, as older folks in Ireland might refer to them, were also adept with offering luck or bestowing curses. Simon might have been an unfortunate recipient of the latter, but for reasons they may never know. Apparently, Brody had somehow helped to break that curse.

Considering that the fae did in fact exist, Simon was given at least some sort of explanation for the mysteries that surrounded him. He therefore asked Brody for the reasons and examples of their actions, so that he himself could have further validity. Simon needed to believe - nothing else made any better sense - and he trusted his cousin enough not to be fed bullshit.

Sharing a wry grin with Kate, Brody told his own edited tale from the beginning. It started with the Wagner's, which led to Lorcan, Oriana, and Aldritch. With Kate's approval, the familial relation was mentioned in order to explain her nimbus sight. Then the situations of Kazimir, Liadan, and finally Devlin were told, after which Brody gave a few details of his stone gift.

Simon listened to the wild encounters with growing fascination, his eyes intense while his jaw hung loosely. After Brody finished his own account, Simon eagerly asked for demonstrations of their extraordinary abilities. Both Brody and Kate smiled and said they'd show him a few things when there was daylight.

At the school theatre, Brody noticed that Simon was reserved and uncomfortable as he or Kate made various introductions while the crowd grew. He thought of his cousin's dilemma, how he'd come to accept everyone having a bad or violent reaction to him. With that in mind, being surrounded by a large group of strangers would be a nightmare. Simon was no longer cursed, but he still had trouble believing it after years of continuous hatred. Brody hoped that the innate friendliness of the villagers, as well as Jane's performance, would soothe his discomfort.

By the end of the school play, Brody and Kate noticed Simon smiling and clapping along with the rest of the audience, who all gave a standing ovation of Jane's moving performance. A majority of the people lingered afterwards, reveling in the social gathering and chatting amiably.

Simon then was introduced to a few other friends of Brody and Kate, one of which was Alana Quinn, who showed obvious interest in the rangy American visitor. It was she who suggested that they all head over to Gil's for a few pints to round off the evening.

The pub was crowded, but the four of them secured a booth. Kate went easy on the drinks while the others indulged themselves; it was an evening full of stories and music and laughter. Simon was no smooth talker, but he was candid and sharp with a verbal retort; traits which Alana found attractive. Perhaps the alcohol played a part, but by the time they left, Simon had made arrangements for a date with the cute and feisty Miss Quinn.

Over the next few days before the holiday, Simon noticed that Brody and Kate had many interests that occupied their time, but only when they chose. Of course, caring for all of the pets was a one of their few routines.

Early on, Brody and Kate both gave Simon examples of their gifts as requested. Kate's nimbus-sight wasn't an obvious ability; she reminded him that she could only read emotions, not why someone felt the way they did. Brody's gift, on the other hand, was overwhelmingly evidenced. His only example was taking a field stone, concentrating for a few seconds, and then pushed his finger into it as if it were stiff putty. Simon was awed by their gifts, and the potential of each.

Other than plying their extraordinary talents when needed, Kate spent a fair amount of time on her computer while Brody busied himself with sculpting or construction endeavors. Simon noticed that they both made plenty of casual time for each other, and for the pets as well. While he was there, they happily included him.

Brody drove Simon around the area quite a bit while he checked up on his houses, or visited friends who needed a hand with one chore or another. It was during those drives that Brody told more of his idea for opening a shop in the village. Simon, much more accustomed to internet sales than personal interaction, offered a few ideas that further inspired the concept.

At certain points during the early part of the days before Christmas, both Brody and Kate listened to a radio program that included financial assistance to particular listeners, and also commercials for a house give-away. Simon inquired about their avid interest, and Kate explained that they were sponsoring those events. He was getting a better idea how monetarily comfortable the couple was, and his guilt lessened over how much Brody spent to have him there.

On Christmas Eve morning, a winner was announced on the radio for the home give-away. The house itself was a large four-bedroom, two-bath home on the northwestern edge of the village. It had been refurbished with modern and energy-efficient amenities, and came with a generous voucher that could be used in any and all of Ballaghadaere's shops and stores.

The winner was a man named Jedrik - Jed - Gorski, originally born in Poland, but had been an Irish resident for twenty years. Jed was a chef with strong credentials. His wife, who died a few years back from breast cancer, had given him three children. His two daughters were in their teens and his son, who was autistic, had just turned twelve. For his son's sake, Jed needed a calm and quiet environment. Ballaghadaere fit that need perfectly.

The following day, Alana stopped by to pick up Simon to spend the afternoon up in Sligo town. Brody, Kate, Father Doyle, and a few others went to go meet Mr. Gorski when he went to go see his new home first-hand. A few reporters showed up as well, getting quick interviews and then departing, finally letting the locals welcome the teary-eyed man to the village.

Jed Gorski was a short, healthy man of forty or so years, with close-cropped salt and pepper hair, and apparently was prone to show his emotions. The man gave more embraces than most people gave handshakes, or maybe it was just a product of his elation. He led his new neighbors on a tour of the place, although Brody and Kate were already well aware of the layout.

Before they left, Brody and Kate pulled Jed aside and gave him a modest check, and explained it was for moving expenses and interim cash before he started his new job at Doolin's restaurant. Jed gave them both another stifling hug whether the couple wanted one or not.

A few hours later, Alana returned Simon back to the cottage. Kate invited her in for dinner, and they all shared stories of their entertaining day. Despite how well Simon and Alana were hitting it off, they both kept in mind that he was only on vacation, so they kept their time together light and fun.

After Alana said her farewells, Simon stayed a while longer before announcing his own departure for the B&B. Both Brody and Kate protested, but he was resolute; they should spend their first Christmas together without guests to worry about. He promised to come back for brunch, and watch over the place while Brody and Kate went to her family's get-together. Simon was offered to join them there as well, but he politely declined.

After he left, Brody and Kate then kept themselves awake with a movie before dressing up to attend midnight mass. Once home, they made gentle love and eventually fell asleep in each other's arms.

Chapter 29

Seldom was Enochia at her haven in the Lore, but she felt the need, however brief, for a deserved respite from her Verden toils. As fae holdings went, it was a moderate affair; coarse grasslands held pockets of leafless trees, all in a perpetual snowy winter setting, stretching as far as the eye could see. Up on a plateau, a mansion sat next to a high cliff that overlooked a dark and stormy ocean.

The manor itself, formed into a chateau architectural style, was externally dilapidated, covered in rime and long icicles. The interior, however, was spacious and clean, with antique furniture and dim lighting. Many of its large windows overlooked the roiling breakers below.

Up in a darkened den with the windows covered in heavy drapes, Enochia sat in a padded Spanish renaissance-style chair, reading by candle light. Joining the candlestick on the table next to her chair was a pile of correspondence scrolls that awaited her eventual return. Most were requests from various fae to give readings on specific topics, with payment offers that ranged from bushels of Lore fruit to an abducted Verden child. She wouldn't even reply to some of the scrolls, and set them aside for Harkin to dispose of.

Suddenly, two unexpected and vivid images came to Enochia's mind. The first was of a large, castle-style double door, made of rough wood and framed in stone. It swung open, and all manner of fae weaponry chaotically flew out. That image quickly segued into the second. The following vision was also of a door, but it was of a plain panel style, painted white. Mist crept from underneath it. A small human hand began to push it open when the image faded.

As quickly as they came, the visions were gone. It was mildly surprising that more ominous portent came from the plain white door rather than the large, roughly-hewn one. The oracle's honed interpretive skills told her that more trouble was heading towards the village - much more.

Enochia tossed a scroll aside and slouched into her chair with an exasperated sigh. "Curse the elements," she muttered to herself, "I just got comfortable."

***

Saraid felt a slight intrusion upon her lands, and waited to see if the feeling persisted. It could simply be an errant fae flying over or trekking across her borderlands, or it might be a few of her low-borne servants returning from missions. With several other thoughts on her mind, Saraid leisurely walked out onto a long oval balcony that protruded from the sheltering boughs of her secluded tree-haven.

The sky was a mixture of pastel blues and pinks, with three moons showing in various cycles of wax or wane. Low, dark clouds moved across the distant horizon, spilling sheets of rain across her rocky terrain. The view was a nice distraction from all of the plans and details that swirled in her mind. The feeling of intrusion had continued, so Saraid leaned on the curved balcony railing in wait for the unknown visitor.

From the many messages she'd sent out, there were only a handful of responses thus far. Saraid wasn't pleased with the apathy from a few of those, especially one of many lodges where fae mercenaries and warrior crews gathered. However, there was an outraged reply from a female warrior, a Fair fae if Saraid had to guess. Her name was Dahlia, not yet with title but held a prospering haven. She was shocked to hear of rebellion against the Circle and offered to be Saraid's champion while the campaign was formed. An invitation to visit in the near-future was sent back.

Also was a surprising scroll from Devlin; the fool had gotten himself banished, as she suspected would happen. Besides his romantic blathering, he also vowed to drum up support for her efforts. Saraid assumed that Devlin could only pull cohorts from those more foolish than himself, so aid from that quarter would be insignificant.

Two heavy objects landed on the balcony in successive thumps behind Saraid, jarring the wood beneath her tanned bare feet. She turned in surprise to see two of her nymph servants sprawled on the decking, stunned and barely moving. Hovering ten feet over them was a small fae dressed in browns and white. "If ye want me fuckin' attention," he said with a melodic brogue, "then don't be sendin' these sluts after me. Last I heard, scrolls still be workin' just fine, ye daft tree hugger."

Saraid assumed the rude fae was Vaughn, who had a reputation as a blunt conversationalist. He was a fetching leprechaun, even if only a few feet tall. He kept his tawny hair and Donegal beard short over a ruddy complexion. The leprechaun wore a white buccaneer shirt under a tan tweed vest and matching slacks, and brown leather boots the same color as the bowler hat tipped back on his head. His large, roguish chestnut eyes stared back at Saraid in irritation. Only because of his claimed skill set was Saraid going to endure a small amount of his verbal lashings, but she had her limits.

Without apology, Saraid explained. "Time is of the essence for my plans; I wasn't sure if you were currently where a scroll could reach you expediently. These two," she gestured to the groaning nymphs at her feet, "were sent to find you with haste. Nymphs, as you may know, are adept at following ether trails that we fae leave."

Vaughn hovered down and sat on the balcony railing a few strides away. "I don't care if they're the fuckin' Hounds of Baskerville; they disrupted me craic. Was havin' the dairy cattle strayin' off and eatin' fish hauls, I was. It was causin' quite a stir with the locals, I can tell ye; fishermen and farmers alike getting' in an uproar." He grinned to himself while pulling out a cob pipe. "Quite the prank I was enjoyin'. That is, until yer two wanton whores came a callin'."

"Quite the prank indeed; where was this?"

After lighting his pipe, the leprechaun answered, "In Cornwall; the area be alive with glamour, I'll have ye know. Many still be keepin' stock in tradition. In a few spots, though, new hands be replacin' the old, and failin' ta continue with old superstitions. I was losin' out on buckets o' cream and baskets o' flayed fish when some decided to stop settin' anything spare out for good luck. The prats needed a reminder." Vaughn exhaled a long plume of smoke and looked Saraid in the eyes. "Now what the hell do ye want?"

Despite the leprechaun's vexing tone, Saraid held her temper. Still, she wanted the meeting over with as soon as possible. "I'm looking for someone of your renowned talents to see to a small chore."

"Hah!" Vaughn scoffed. "A 'small chore' from the likes o' ye usually be meanin' that ye want some bauble from a cave that a pack o' shite-stained ogres call home! If yer chore be anythin' akin to that, then ye can kiss me arse."

Saraid let out an irritated sigh. "No, nothing of the sort, I assure you. I merely need you to influence a human by way of her dreams; to plant and reinforce a subliminal idea. That is one of your vaunted gifts, is it not?"

Vaughn sneered at the question. "I'm a fuckin' leprechaun, ain't I? O' course I can be doin' that. Land alive, ye fool auld woman, do ye know any o' my kind that can't? Question is, why me?"

Saraid took a moment to phrase her answer, and looked down. Noticing that her servants were still dazed and laying about, she used her foot to push one, then the other, off the balcony and out of her sight. Their grisly impacts onto exposed tree roots a few seconds later sounded painful to anyone who cared. At that moment, no one nearby did.

She looked back to Vaughn and said, "I don't want to deal with novice dream dabblers and hope they succeed. I want an accomplished dream-crafter to see to this mission, and my message implanted deeply and without error. There should be no misunderstanding by the target of how to interpret her affected dreams. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Clear enough; what's yer offer?"

Taking a seductive step closer, Saraid softly said, "I'm sure we can... negotiate a price."

Vaughn dipped his head down, but still kept his eyes on her. His upper lip curled into a snarl. Saraid literally felt his mental defenses deflect her glamoured seduction. "None o' that, ye slatternly cat; I have me own choice o' willin' playmates, and don't need ta be playin' me organ in yer big cathedral." He paused a moment to let the insinuation sink in. "You'll either have an offer worth me while, or I'll be on me way."

Unable to hide her scowl, Saraid hesitated before making her offer. "I offer to declare you worthy of title to the Circle, with its name to be discussed later." Although it only sounded like a formality of rank, having a title had tangible benefits. With a title, glamour was more easily gained, and more could be internally stored for more extended use of gifts. Moreover, a title holder's Lore lands grew quicker in prosperity, which drew low-caste fae to that court to place themselves in servitude. "Although you are not quite of elder age, your skills should see you clear without issue once I have declared my endorsement."

Vaughn nodded appreciatively. "Ye must be wantin' this with a thirst if ye be willing ta offer title. With that settled, then I'll be needin' the particulars. But nothin' too foul, mind ye." He pointed a finger at her for emphasis. "I'm no fuckin' redcap who'd fill yer dreams with butchery and the like; given the manky bastards had the gift."

Saraid forced a pleasant smile. "Of course not; my message is simple and innocuous. The target is Jane McCarthy. She lives with her parents in a village called Ballaghadaere, in the northwest of Eire. I trust your other gifts can find her from there?"

"Without doubt, they can." Besides being a dream-crafter, Vaughn had the rare gift of 'location'; he merely had to concentrate on a person or object to learn of its whereabouts. "And what message would ye want enforced?"

"Initially, place an image of a door in her dreams; any door will do. And then I want you to implant the messages, 'first, one door, then another', and 'one room, two doors'." Saraid wanted to keep the messages simple so as to avoid confusion in Jane's mind. A clearer message would have been better, but any options she could think of were too lengthy. "Insert that image and those words in as many sessions of rest as you deem proper. As for when you should stop... if it isn't obvious, I'll send word for you to return. There, nothing so sinister, wouldn't you agree?"

Vaughn nodded in wary approval. "Sounds simple enough, it does, which puts me on guard. Still, I'll accept if that be the whole of yer mission and payment...?"

"It is."

"Then we've got a bound pact, Moon Maiden, and I'll be getting' right to it." Vaughn tapped out his pipe and stood up on the railing. "I'd ask fer a 'by yer leave' or some such, but I couldn't give a shite." He tipped his bowler hat to her and then shot off into the sky, leaving a trail like a bottle rocket.

Saraid watched the leprechaun go, and was happy for his departure. She mused that if Kazimir was still guarding Jane, he'd have great difficulty in cornering the likes of Vaughn. If the big morpher was absent from that location, then the mission would be simplicity. Either way, she'd have success.

If Saraid couldn't take Jane, she'd make the girl come to her. The only issue was where that second door of Jane's might open; in neutral lands, surely, but where within those vast and rugged stretches? She thought that perhaps a scout could find its way into the room and remain unseen to make a report once Jane completed her first bridge. A wisp would do nicely; they needed no sustenance and could deliver simple messages.

Saraid looked wistfully over the railing at the tiny, broken bodies below. She needed better servants.

Chapter 30

Christmas morning finally came, and with it a dense fog. Brody gently rose, letting Kate sleep while he saw to only the necessary early chores. After the donkeys were greeted and given holiday treats, he went to his work shop and retrieved all of his other gifts that he'd hidden behind stone blocks.

Kate woke to the sound of the shower, and the harsh but happy panting of Pearl next to the bed. She got up and sleepily walked into the kitchen, noticing both the fog outside through the windows and the aroma of brewing coffee. The loaf of bread and cup of milk that were left out the night before were both half gone; a note rested against the plate and simply said, 'many thanks, ma'am' in tiny print. Kate took the note to the lit fireplace and tossed it in.

Turning to once again admire their handsome Christmas tree, Kate saw that there were many more packages underneath it than the night before, some of them quite large. With a smile, she mentally admonished Brody for going overboard.

While Kate cleaned up, Brody simply prepared biscuits for them. She soon joined him and they shared teasing banter over the light food before reaffirming the day's travel plans. Like an ecstatic child, Brody led Kate into the living room where the gifts awaited under shiny wrapping.

Brody's first offered present was heavy. Within the cardboard box was a perfectly rendered sculpture of a donkey head, made entirely from malachite. Kate could hardly find the words for how much she adored it, and then insisted it be taken with them later to show her family.

After the dogs were given chew toys to keep them out of the way, Kate presented Brody with two gifts at once. He tried on his new black slippers and robe, which fit perfectly. He saw her logic of giving associated gifts all at once, and Kate's lap was filled with small packages. The beautiful jewelry box began the short parade of beautiful charms; it would easily hold her current sparse collection, plus the three new lovely earring sets and delicate bracelet with ease.

Brody tapped the box sitting next to her on the couch and said, "This one is special."

Kate put a hand to his cheek. "They're all special, love. I don't even need to open it to know that."

Brody kissed the palm of her hand and then released it. With a beaming smile, he said, "Just open the damn box, darlin'."

From the wrapping and jewelry box, Kate pulled out a huge citrine necklace, faceted into the shape of a heart and chained with yellow gold.

Mesmerized, she had no words that time, so Brody filled in the silence. "From how you described it, that's the color you see when you look at me, right?" Kate could only nod as her eyes began to well. "Now you'll always have it with you." Her sudden embrace took Brody off-guard, but he kept his balance and let her try to squeeze the life out of him.

Kate finally composed herself and gave her man the remainder of his gifts, save one. Brody was overjoyed with what Kate thought were simple but appropriate presents. He loved the coveralls for sculpting (it even had a patch with his name sewn onto it), and the jerseys of the local rugby and hurling teams that were special-ordered for his size. He said he was going to wear one of the new dress shirts and ties over to the McCarthy house, as well as the new cologne. Brody had trouble setting his new money clip down; made of stainless steel and set with a grey cat's-eye stone on either side, he was taken with its handsome appeal.

Gathering the medium sized boxes, Brody scooted them over to where Kate sat. After Kate opened the last of those gifts, she felt overwhelmed, albeit in a good way. Laid all about her was two new perfumes (Brody couldn't decide, so he got both), an elaborate toiletry set, an assortment of scented candles, a knee-length wool coat, and a matching set of her own spa robe and slippers.

Feeling unaccustomedly pampered, Kate was nearly overcome when two more boxes, the large ones, were set in front of her. The first was a set of tan leather luggage; she was reminded it would be needed when they traveled to the states for Jamal's wedding. The other was an expansive set of green (her favorite color) stoneware, enough for twelve full settings with additional matching platters and pitchers. Kate's cheeks had begun to ache from smiling all morning long.

"I'm sorry, darlin'," Brody said with mock sorrow, "that's all I got for you. I hope you don't mind."

"You're mistaken, love," Kate replied, taking the smile off his face. "You did get me something else. Sit in your chair and I'll explain."

Curious and confused, Brody sat back in his big leather chair. Kate grabbed one last gift and then sat on his lap. "Here, take this first." Brody opened the small box and found a hand-made wristband. Kate pointed to the interwoven strands and said, "This is a blade of grass from the paddocks. These dark and tan ones are hairs from the dogs. That lighter one is a strand of thatch from the cottage roof. And this here is a braid of my hair laced throughout. From now on, wherever you go, you'll always have those things with you."

Brody stared at it, then at her. The only words he could find were, "I'll never take it off."

Kate helped fasten the band around his big wrist, and then looked Brody in the eye. "Love, you've given me gifts that you can't put a bow on. From you I've received freedom and honesty, and happiness in so many forms." She took his face in her small hands and leaned closer. "But most importantly, you've given me love without judgment or reservation. I can never thank you enough for that." She gave him a gentle kiss after seeing his grey eyes soften.

"But there's something else," Kate said before Brody became too emotional, "something that you didn't give." She smiled at his frown. "You never gifted me with frills like curling irons or big makeup kits, knowing I wouldn't know what to do with them if I had them. You never bought me provocative lingerie, trying to make me into some sort of... sex kitten. I was never given self-help books or lectures on improving myself."

Brody interrupted. "But Kate, I know you wouldn't want any of those things, and you sure as hell don't need 'em."

"Exactly my point; you never tried to make me into something else, or to try and improve me. I know I have my flaws and foibles, but you accepted those without hesitation. You loved me when I didn't feel worthy of it, and didn't give up on me." Kate felt herself tearing up, and finished her statement with a faltering voice. "No matter how many presents you give me, you'll never outdo that one."

Their embrace lingered until Kate felt the need for a tissue, and the heavy mood was fully broken when she cleared her sinuses. With a joking tone, Brody said, "For God's sake, woman, pull yourself together. My cousin will be here any minute. I told him you were my 'sex kitten', and now look at you." He was given a playful swat in return. A few moments later Brody received a text from Simon, who was on his way.

They cleared away the big mess of wrapping paper and boxes, and had begun another light meal when their guest arrived with a big package in his arms. After he set it down and removed his coat and cowboy boots, Simon sat down with his generous hosts for a quick brunch of rashers, champs, and eggs. Brody and Kate found their guest relaxed and happy. He even made note of thoroughly enjoying the walk to their cottage through the thick fog in the silent countryside. The couple joined their own smiles with his in mutual appreciation of his experience.

After gathering more boxes from a guest room, Simon joined the couple in their living room and offered his presents first. Kate was given a slip-on bracelet made of silver, set with three small diamonds. While she marveled at the beauty of it, Brody politely asked why his cousin was spending money on precious stones. Simon shrugged and said, "I didn't really spend a plumb nickel, cuz. I got a pouch of different kinds of rocks sittin' at home. Saved 'em up from when my pa took me panning and mining. I just traded a jeweler a few of the bigger ones so he'd shape all the others. So, honest, it's no fuss."

Kate looked over to him with wide eyes. "A... pouch full of them, you said?" Simon's reply was another casual shrug.

Smiling, Simon reached in his large duffel bag and pulled out three cereal boxes.

"Hot damn, Lucky Charms!" Brody exclaimed. Kate burst out laughing.

"Yeah, I looked around online and found out that Ireland hardly even has that damn stuff, and it costs an arm and a leg if ya can find it. Hell, I thought it was made here."

They all laughed again, and Brody promised to share one box.

Simon's real gift to both of them was a hand-wrought fireplace set, with the pommels forged into duck heads. Considering the current migration of that particular animal around the cottage because of the lake, it was appropriate.

The first gift to Brody was a large piece of metal shaped into a heater shield. On the front was the Lynch family crest in exquisite detail, and tapped out in bas-relief. Brody stood and held it out in front of him, taking note of the extensive scrollwork and etching. He remembered saying, "Holy shit" only twice, but Kate assured him it was more than that.

Still staring at the Lynch shield, Brody wasn't expecting to have Simon pull another large item out of the bulky package. Mouth slightly agape and staring, he reverently took the offered ceremonial weapon. It was a long-hafted Gaelic axe. The sloping curve of the oaken haft was mostly wrapped in strips of leather for the look of authenticity. The head of the single-bladed weapon had the Lynch crest set in a circle, surrounded by intricate Celtic-knot etching. There was no blade sheath because it had been left quite dull; it was only for show, after all.

While Kate and Brody marveled at the fine craftsmanship, Simon vocally recalled his research, that in mediaeval times the Lynch clan and a few others favored such a weapon in battle. Brody held the axe in one hand and gave his cousin a side-by-side masculine hug with his free arm. Simon flinched at Brody's unintentional display of crushing strength, but thereafter smiled at the reaction to his gifts.

Brody set his stunning gifts aside and offered for Simon to sit in his big chair. As he relaxed into its soft cushions, Brody and Kate handed him a toaster-sized box and a manila envelope. Inside the box was an abstract sculpture in white marble with blue striations. With its curves and flowing shapes, it looked more like swirling water caught in time than rock. Kate hadn't seen the finished work, so she and Simon studied it together with great interest.

Gesturing to the envelope on Simon's lap, Brody said, "This other one might take some explaining." He and Kate sat together on the couch and watched as Simon pulled out a handful of glossy photos.

Looking at the snapshots of a house, Simon remembered it from when he and Brody stopped by to inspect the place. It was a handsome stone house with two bedrooms on one level, out on a rural road. It was in very good shape inside and out, and the lawn held many mature bushes and trees. Adjoining the lawn was a huge workshop that ran along the road, with a four-stall barn behind it. There was also a holding pen and small hay shed within the immediate grounds, all of which was surrounded by sprawling, tree-dotted fields that encircled the house and outbuildings up to the lane.

"Yeah, I remember that place; nice spread." Simon commented. He looked over to Brody with a grin and asked, "So, you're rubbing this in my face for Christmas?"

"Nope, we're giving it to you."

Surprised, Simon asked, "You're what?"

Kate was nodding with a smile while Brody leaned back into the couch. "We want you to move here. I'll give you all the reasons why you should accept the offer, and I'm not going to pull any punches on this, okay?"

Simon slowly nodded. "We've always shot straight with each other, so I wouldn't expect less."

"Alright, then here's the facts," Brody began. "First off, you don't like where you live, and from what I can tell and what you've seen so far, you love it here. Your business in Colorado is on the slide, but I think you'd do well out here. There's one farrier in these parts, Gordon McCoy, and he's gonna retire before too long. It's kind of a pain in the ass to get certification for that in Ireland, but I already talked to Gordy and he's got an idea to make it a lot easier."

"Hold on a sec... You made that sound kinda shady."

"No, not at all; I only meant that once you show Gordy your skills, he'll go to the guys he knows in the Irish Farrier's Authority and basically help you skip a lot of the bullshit."

"Oh, I see how ya mean now."

Brody continued. "When Gordy retires, you'd be the farrier taking over - the only farrier. I think that alone would get you by. But then I was planning on opening a shop, but I worried how I'd fill the damn thing up with my work. If you went in with me, you'd have more room to sell all that stuff we saw in the photos and online. And like you taught me a few days ago, you know the internet side of it better than I do. I think, if we pooled our work, it'd do well.

"But hold on, I'm not done selling this yet." Everyone, even Brody, shared a grin at his enthusiasm. "So, like I said, you'd be happier here, you'd make money here, and your family is here. Sounds good so far, right?"

"Yeah, so far," Simon agreed, "but if you're gonna try to sell me a timeshare, I'm leavin'."

"Oh shut up," Brody replied, grinning. He pointed to the pictures in Simon's hands. "That is a fourteen-acre ranch with a huge work shop we could convert for you. You like horses, and it has four stalls and plenty of room. There are no mountains around here, or any big forests - just room and quiet and privacy. Your nearest neighbor is over a quarter mile away on either side, and across the lane is nothing but fields for a long stretch. The ranch is only about five miles from here, and just over a mile from the village, so anything you'd need is close by." He let out a sigh. "I'm giving you a fresh start for Christmas, cuz. And it's not just for you; I want my family near."

Kate chimed in, saying, "We both would truly enjoy having you here permanently, as both friend and family. It may suit you better than your current situation."

Simon's face went through a series of emotions and finally settled with a worried grin. "Don't take my pause as a bad sign. It's a bang-up offer, but kinda..."

"Kinda scary, you mean?" Simon reluctantly nodded, so Brody continued. "Look, I'll be right there with ya if you want me to be. I've already got all the info for work visas and residency, and the folks in that ministry like me." He threw up a cheesy grin. "But honestly, "I've done my homework on this, cuz. All the bases are covered, and Kate and I will be there for anything you need."

Setting the photos aside, Simon sat forward and let his hands dangle off his knees. "Brody, it's one hell of an offer, and I know you two would make me feel right at home, but I don't think you know the kind of start-up cash it would take to get a new shop started. I mean, I couldn't move everything out here. Now, I know you're pretty flush, but I can't allow you to start throwing money at me."

With a smile, Brody replied, "Like I said, Simon, I've done my homework. I have a real good idea how much it'd cost, and it's not a problem. I also expected you to balk at anything free; you're too honorable for that. So I intend to charge you a flat monthly fee with no interest. It would go toward your repayment of the ranch, the blacksmithing supplies, the farrier trailer, the vehicle, and the rescue animals. It's a long-term plan."

Simon frowned. "Hold on a sec; what vehicle? What trailer? And animals? What the hell are you goin' on about, cuz?"

Kate spoke up that time. "You'll need the farrier trailer for work, of course, and a vehicle to tow it; we can't just have you walking all over Ireland looking to shoe a horse. And until Alana or someone else makes an honest man of you, you could do with a companion or two. Almost all the animals here are from rescue organizations; we've dealt with them before and could help you along there as well. You could get horses to tend to, and maybe a dog to keep you company."

"A dog, huh?"

She nodded. "We hate to see you so lonely, Simon. I can see it even now, and it hurts to see that in a friend." Simon looked down uncomfortably, but Kate persisted. "You know you want this, and we know it as well. Just say yes and make everyone happy. Please."

It was a few seconds before Simon looked back up. With a crooked grin, he said, "I reckon I can't say no to a lady's request, now can I."

Chapter 31

Lorcan sat on a dark, mossy log, miserable as the rain came down and drenched his clothing. His once vibrant long and wavy orange hair hung like a wet mop over his shoulders and face in his slouched position. From under those dripping strands, Lorcan's black eyes cast daggers at the giant dryad sitting across the campsite from him. Aldritch sat tranquilly on a stump and savored a Lore apple while the rain he conjured simply avoided him.

After the night his debt was transferred, Lorcan was taken from one Verden location to another, all by means of Aldritch's unnerving ability of shade-walking. The reason for their haphazard travels was never evident or explained; Lorcan guessed it was meant to disorient him.

During that time, Aldritch explained what he expected from his new charge. While technically free to do as he pleased, Lorcan was at the beck and call of the elder until his random obligations had been met. There was only a short time of freedom before he was called back for service. The wretched redcap believed that Aldritch made rain just to torment him.

From the temporary fae-bridge, the mismatched pair trekked across neutral Lore ground for a time, tromping through wild grass and sparse woods layered in a low, slithering mist. They finally stopped in a small clearing for a meal break, although Lorcan had surprisingly little appetite.

While the big fae nonchalantly ate his fruit, Lorcan viewed their surroundings with a scowl. The damp ground was uneven, the sparse grasses and weeds dull and listless. The trees were twisted, long, and held wide, half-barren canopies; they seemed to silently taunt him with their height. Through the soft but soaking rain, little could be seen of the way the two were headed through the wild brambles ahead. The sky was sullen brown and devoid of avian life. It was verification to Lorcan that some of the neutral lands sucked.

Lorcan thought that if Aldritch brought him out into the wastelands to use up one of the four debts owed, he was taking his time getting around to it. Finally, his impatience got the better of him. "You said we had to find the elders who held the last Circle gathering. I doubt they're out here."

Under heavy brows, Aldritch's light eyes stared at him menacingly. Letting his look be enough to say the redcap's tone wasn't welcome, the huge dryad eventually answered. "I said it was one reason for the journey." His rough baritone voice was just as intimidating as his stare. "I have a matter of my own to see to before I fulfill my own pact."

In an attempt to ease the tension, Lorcan tried to placate the elder with lighter tones. "You got a chore to do, fair enough. So, um, just wondering, but ... what do you need me for, then? Do you want me to throw a nudge or two to help things go your way or something?"

Aldritch gave another hard stare and said, "Do you think me unable to handle my own affairs?"

Lorcan held up a hand in placation. "Easy now, I never said that; I was just trying to figure this out. I'm sure you've got your personal business well in hand. But, as far as I can tell, we're not near any vast elder holdings, either. So if we're not going to find one of the Circle elders right away, and you don't need me to assist in your private mission," his voice rose in exasperation, "then by the cursed elements, what am I doing here?"

A tree branch swung down and struck Lorcan across the top of his head, denting the shape of his porkpie hat. The unexpected clout at the elder's silent command was meant more as a reprimand than to cause pain. After finishing the last bite of his fruit, Aldritch said, "Your tone irks me; that was a caution. To answer your question, you are with me to be a witness should I need one. And before you ask - yes, it will use up one of your obligations."

Rubbing his head while he set his misshapen hat in his lap, Lorcan commented genially. "Alright, a witness; I can do that. But if I'm asked to testify for whatever you're going to do, then I might need a little information beforehand, right?"

Aldritch took a moment of thought before explaining. "The Circle appointed a magistrate to investigate an Enigma breach in the Verden; your breach, to be exact, Lorcan. That magistrate is a Fair fae named Devlin Ryder. From information gathered from the Lady of Eight, I learned two important things. One, Sir Ryder is now in his Lore haven. Secondly, and more importantly, in his duties he attempted an action that I forbade." Aldritch recalled with pure clarity the warning he gave Devlin when they had met on the McCarthy lawn, and planned to keep the promise he made then.

Lorcan grinned at the news, if only for the fact that Aldritch disliked someone more than him.

"The magistrate's haven is near," the dryad elder continued. "I mean to mete out the punishment for his transgression." He stood and reached for his large, knotted staff. "Come," he said to the drenched and pathetic-looking redcap, "our time here is concluded."

Lorcan got up from the log, and while he tried to fix his sodden maroon hat, he asked, "No offense, but why were we just sitting around in the rain? We could have eaten while we walked for something as important as what you just said."

Always have been thought of as a deliberate fae, Aldritch differed from most others. While he would ponder a situation and a course of actions, it was many others of his type who would rush into the fray, following their wild impulses... not unlike the diminutive redcap who sulked before him. While he casually readjusted his long duster coat, Aldritch asked, "Have you ever heard the phrase, 'the calm before the storm'?"

"Yeah, it's been around for a while."

Giving Lorcan another serious gaze, the giant fae said, "It originated with me." He turned and began to stride out of the clearing. Over his shoulder, he added, "The calm is about to pass. And, I was hungry. Hurry along."

'My, oh my', Lorcan thought to himself with a wide grin as he scampered to catch up, 'this is going to be fun'.

***

While Brody loaded big boxes of gifts into the back of his wagon under moody midday clouds and a chilly breeze, Simon brought the last of them out. After they finished, he handed Brody a small box and asked that it be given to Alana. Uneasy from the other's devilish grin, Simon gave the meager explanation that it was only in the spirit of Christmas; it was sitting in his shop and he thought someone might like it. Brody let his cousin off the hook of embarrassment and simply agreed.

While Simon chose to stay behind and look after the animals, Brody and Kate first stopped by Alana's apartment. She had a little time before joining her own family down in Athlone, and so they exchanged gifts over a quick cup of tea.

Kate's prediction was correct; Brody received a handsome brown and tan hand-stitched wool scarf. Kate herself was also given a scarf, but with the colors reversed, plus a gag gift: a bottle of energy supplements. The couple gave Alana a large art case that held every medium of paint and graphite, as well as brushes and markers.

Simon's gift to Alana was a hand-forged four-leaf clover table decoration. She asked Brody and Kate to pass along her thanks, but was told to thank him herself when he moved to the area. She was apparently pleased that Simon would soon be a permanent fixture.

The next quick stop was to visit Mary Clarke, Kate's friend and former co-worker. The older woman had her daughters and their families over at the time, so the couple was welcomed into a home of friendly strangers and a number of ginger-haired children running around.

The male grandchildren who were of an age to notice girls grinned shamelessly at Kate, while all of them gaped openly at Brody's size. To avoid the blatant stares, Brody milled about and noticed pictures of Mary's late husband throughout the cozy house, gone some seven years,. Mary was given a deluxe box of chocolates and her favorite vanilla perfume. She in turn gifted the couple with a platter of home-baked confections. Upon seeing them out, Mary sweetly suggested that Brody could return the platter when he felt he had the energy.

By early afternoon, Brody and Kate arrived at her parent's home, with Jack and his family already present. With good humor, both Fiona and Jack moaned at the wide variety of toys their children were given, most of which made raucous noises. Casual conversations were had between all in front of the warm fireplace before the adults shared their presents.

Jane gave Brody and Kate a set of four mugs with a picture of one of their donkeys on each, plus a homemade CD of Jane singing to a selection of tunes on her old guitar. They loved the mugs, and couldn't wait to listen to her music. From Jack and Fiona, they were given sets of muck boots and rain slickers. Brody said he had plenty of use for them, and that there was no longer an excuse for Kate not to assist him. Liam and Cora gifted them both with cardigan sweaters, plus a long dress for Kate and a tweed ivy cap for Brody. Kate laughably complained that her pretty new dress didn't go with her new muck boots, but she'd make do.

Brody couldn't find a box to conceal one of Jane's gifts, so he just stuck a bow on the Ovation guitar case and handed it to her. With a voice that was normally mesmerizing, Jane's squeal of delight stung their ears. When Kate handed her little sister a music bag, it was well-received but came in a distant second to the first gift.

Jack and Fiona were stunned with what Brody and Kate gave to them; the stylish watches and the pair of laptops were far beyond anything they might have expected. That is, until Brody handed them an envelope while Kate explained their last gift. The four-day stay at an Irish resort plus a balloon ride had Jack in disbelief and Fiona nearly in tears. Kate mentioned that she was looking forward to watching the children during their vacation.

Liam and Cora were gifted with even more presents; Kate watched with a growing smile while Brody continued to set packages in front of them. Her parents stared around them and politely tried to refuse, saying it was too much before they even opened a single box. In an earnest moment, Brody sat next to Kate, setting Shey on his lap, and explained that he never had people like the ones in that house to share Christmas with, and wanted to show his thanks for their acceptance and friendship.

Jane held a camcorder and Fiona snapped photo after photo as Liam and Cora opened one gift after another with escalating joy. From what Brody ordered from Simon, they received a two-dimensional bronze wall ornament; two horse busts, side by side with wind blowing through their manes. The other metal sculpture was a hen and rooster in exquisite detail, both mounted to a single base, to add to Cora's current décor of those animals. Next came a fireplace set with handsome ram-head pommels. Lastly from Simon's handiwork was an iron buckler shield with the McCarthy crest engraved in high detail.

Brody swelled with pride for his cousin's sake as all of the McCarthy's fawned over the metallic gifts.

Kate directed her parents to both open smaller boxes together; Liam and Cora both put on their new matching gold watches with beaming faces. After opening his new golf clubs and bag, Liam pumped Brody's hand and gave Kate a warm hug. Cora let Jane and Fiona share in her joy of receiving a Waterford decanter set.

As the family was in multiple conversations of the gifts bestowed on them, Brody got Liam's attention and pointed to the envelope that sat unnoticed on the table between him and his wife. Liam tapped Cora's forearm and then handed her the gift they'd forgotten.

The other conversations ceased when Cora exclaimed, "Oh my dear Lord." After reviewing the contents a second time, she handed the packet back to her husband. "Liam, love," she said with barely-controlled restraint, "they're sending us to Greece." At that, the house erupted in wild and festive surprise.

While the others were busy in spirited chats, and while Liam still stared at the vacation package, Cora asked Brody and Kate to follow her into the kitchen. "Brody," the unreadable woman said to him, "please have a seat. I'll get a crick in my neck if I keep looking up at you."

Kate moved around behind him with a curious expression while he sat slowly at the small breakfast table, unsure of Cora's motives. Kate's mother stood in front of him with her fingers interlaced in front of her. "I once wondered aloud if you were trying to buy our acceptance. By the looks of it, many outsiders might agree." With a frown, Brody nodded. He would have spoken up in defense of himself in light of all the gifts he'd just given, but he decided to hear her out and then plead his case if need be.

Brody's concerns were allayed when Cora said, "But I know better now." He let out an evident sigh as the woman before him relaxed in posture and tone. "I see that you aren't trying to bribe us for approval; we already approve of you, so I look at your generosity in the spirit of how it was meant. For that, I give my heartfelt thanks." She took a breath to retain a formal demeanor. "You stay seated, young man. We're not finished with our chat."

Cora looked over Brody's head to Kate. She smiled at her daughter and extended her arms. "Come here, my lovely girl." Kate moved quickly into her mother's embrace. "Thank you," Cora said softly into Kate's burgundy hair. "Thank you for everything, especially your forgiveness and understanding." Kate slowly pulled back from her mother, both with emotion-colored cheeks and watery eyes.

Cora looked back to Brody and extended her arms again. He stood and softly held her to him. She stepped back after the briefest of hugs, took both of his massive hands in hers, and looked up at him. "You've given us a Christmas never to be forgotten, but I think your acting the flahulach once was enough. You've shown your gratefulness, so don't ever do anything like this again." Brody's face was still registering surprise when Cora walked out of the kitchen.

Kate saw his stunned expression and slack mouth. "What did you expect?" she asked, moving closer to him. "Mam, and I'm sure da as well, are embarrassed by your kindness. You didn't expect her to just say so, did you? If I were in your place, Mr. Brody Lynch, American outsider, I'd take the thanks and that unexpected hug and count your blessings." Kate leaned up, kissed Brody on the chin, and then exited the kitchen as well.

Still in a mild daze, Brody watched her go. He stood there alone while noises of gaiety echoed through the McCarthy home, and muttered to himself, "Shit, I forgot what flahulach means."

When Brody caught up with Kate as she rejoined her family in the living room, he got a subtle signal from Jack, letting him know that the last surprise was ready. While the malachite donkey and topaz necklace were being passed around, Brody went over to Kate, who was looking at dolls with Ella. "Hey, Kate," he said, getting her attention, "I made a mistake. I said I was done giving you gifts, but I forgot the little one I left over here."

Kate looked up at Brody with surprise. She then looked over at the barren space underneath her parent's Christmas tree, and then back at him in confusion. "What little gift?"

"I have it outside; it's better to see it in natural light." She hesitated, so he added, "Hurry up, it's getting dark."

To Kate's added confusion, most of the family had moved toward the door ahead of her. With the clues of "little" and "natural light", she was expecting a plant of some sort. She glanced only momentarily at the empty stoop outside the door, seeing that her family had already stepped out into the front lawn.

Brody was facing her with a crooked smile and said, "I'm sorry, darlin', but I just got tired of looking at your rust-bucket." He nodded his head to her right, toward the driveway. Kate looked in that direction and gasped. A new, five-door, emerald-green Honda Fit sat there gleaming in the diminishing rays that slipped through the clouds. As she slowly approached it, Brody commented, "I didn't want to keep worrying every time you went out in your old car, so I got this and had them slap some green paint on it; I know that's your favorite color."

Kate circled her stylish new car while her family looked on. "You got me a car," she said quietly, almost reverently, as she opened the driver's door. Breathing in the new car scent, she saw it was a sports edition with every amenity. Turning around, Kate ran to Brody while yelling, "You got me a car!" He stood his ground and took the impact of her leaping embrace.

Cora's Christmas dinner, from the main course to every side dish, was superb; Brody better understood where Kate got her culinary talent and skill. The talk around the table was a lively blend of stories and laughter. Between the meal and dessert, everyone was engrossed with their gifts.

Shey managed to nap through all of the noise. Ella cooed her new crying doll; Jane strummed her new guitar; Liam talked Brody into trying a round of golf; Fiona explained to Jack how best to manipulate their laptops; Kate explained to Cora about Simon moving to Ireland, and their ideas for a craft shop in the village. It was the best day any of them had had in a long time.

At one point, Brody leaned against the doorway leading into the kitchen and watched the cheerful McCarthy family; a family that he hoped to belong to one day. He gazed with adoration at Kate while she mingled with her parents and siblings. His swelling heart realized that with her, a life of happiness awaited him, and that the weight of grieving his losses had slowly and subtly become an unnecessary burden.

The memories of his parents came to Brody then, and those of Don and Marie Keller, but mostly just the bright moments. They were bittersweet, no longer laced with pain and longing. As long as he remembered all of their guidance and love, they'd always be with him, helping to steer his course. In Brody's mind and heart, he embraced them individually, and then with an inward smile let them go. In that release, so too faded the ache of mourning.

Chapter 32

Vaughn had found his target easily enough. He first used the nearest of his fae-bridges, which was down near Cork. From there, he simply flew in the direction that his gift of location urged him to go.

He initially found the village of Ballaghadaere to be small and quaint, but without much craic to be had. There was a strong essence of glamour all about the area, although he wasn't of the mind to harvest much. Without the need to visit Jane McCarthy's home, Vaughn remotely found her location.

He settled as a squatter in an empty apartment above a bakery within the village center, and waited until the human girl lapsed into slumber to peruse and gauge her dreams. Vaughn would need at least a few nights of distant investigation to evaluate the geography of her dreamscapes.

Unless the McCarthy girl decided for a midday nap, Vaughn had little to do and so ambled about the village and its surroundings. Sensing that the area was a 'thin place', the outgoing leprechaun assumed there must be a generous supply of fae who were common visitors there and hoped to meet some.

Unexpectedly, it was another fae who found him, and a fellow leprechaun as a bonus. Her name was Rhiannon, a reserved type with bouncy auburn hair and big, lime-colored eyes. She only approached because she hadn't seen another of her race in the area for some time, and was curious. Vaughn learned that she was barely of median age, still practicing her lucks and curses. Still, Rhiannon was a pleasant diversion, and better than sitting in a barren room eating the baker's leftovers.

Late into that evening, after having a bit of fun making children's new toys work without batteries for a time and then unexpectedly break, Vaughn sat in the corner of his temporary dwelling and savored a cream-filled pastry.

The glow from the strung lights of the decorated village lit the room well enough to see what few items were forgotten there. Two empty boxes were stacked in a corner, and a paint can sat next to a narrow closet door. Except for one crack in the plaster, the walls were barren, their color unknowable in the dim light. If Vaughn had tried to imagine where he'd be staying before he got there, it certainly wouldn't have been where he currently found himself. Better accommodations were in order, although he'd miss the easy access to the baked goods below.

With a finger absently swirling in the air, Vaughn located the McCarthy girl; moreover, he found her in the beginnings of a dream state. He studied emerging patterns as her unconscious mind formed one vision and then another, sometimes gathering into scenarios.

Jane McCarthy was found to be an imaginative girl, full of hopes, creativity, and romantic yearnings. There was a young man that flitted through her sleeping mind, but soon faded. Vaughn hoped the poor bastard wasn't a current beau because she was near her end with him; her head knew it, but the girl's heart probably hadn't admitted it yet.

Other, more vivid images churned; a small white car, a crowd of attentive and smiling people in front of her, a shiny guitar and an assortment of lyrics, a big man with grey eyes, and a tabby cat.

In due time, Vaughn would have to apply the phrases 'first, one door, then another' and 'one room, two doors' into Jane's psyche. But the image, a random door, would be easier to integrate as an external intrusion, so he would start with that. He saw the plain white closet door across from him and thought it would do as well as any. Vaughn scrutinized its simple shape intently, fixing it in his mind so he could soon impose it into hers.

This matter of influence for a foreign concept, such as unexpected doors, was a subtle and protracted chore. If Vaughn were sent to plague someone with nightmares, for example, he could have used the target's own fears as a base and could begin haunting their dreams immediately. So, for the promise of title, he patiently went about his business of dream-crafting.

***

The following day, St. Stephen's Day, Simon found himself in a more relaxed state than he had expected to be. By late morning, Brody's cottage was bustling with happy visitors; the McCarthy clan was there, whom he'd met at the school play. The local priest and a few other friends arrived, who made themselves comfortable at Kate's request.

One of last to show up was Alana Quinn. She wasn't as forward with Simon as before, but engaged him in various conversations throughout the day. He liked it best watching her walk toward him, or walking away; he was afraid that any chats in-between would cause him to lose interest or find her tedious, like he had with most other people. Simon later found himself pleasantly surprised to find that the lively gal was also smart, sarcastic, and quick with a come-back. Alana knew various degrees of many topics, and was an energetic font of information in his questions about Ireland.

Even when seated with Brody and many of the others while they watched horse races on his cousin's big-screen television, Simon was tolerating, if not enjoying, the general buzz of the crowded room.

However, he couldn't deny that the old Moynihan couple was sort of creepy, the way they just sat there and smiled like they were passing gas; he was sure that if old George farted too hard, it'd break his hip. And he was positive that Kate's mother must have lit her own tampon on fire just before she walked in. Luckily, Cora mellowed out as the day went on. Simon guessed that Kate was slipping sedatives in her tea so that the old priest wouldn't have to forgive someone of murdering the bitch.

Jack and his dad Liam more than made up for any deficits of atmosphere. While the father was much more mellow and sage, they both talked of subjects that Simon had interest in. Even the old priest was cracking jokes and yelling at the races on the screen. When Simon ventured to make a comment about one of the horses, the others listened, and it usually spurred another interesting conversation.

On a few occasions, Simon surveyed the guests; other than a few annoying kids, no one was a blatant moron, no one tried to bullshit him, no one was a drunken jackass in need of a thumping. As long as that kept up, he had more incentive to make Ireland his new home.

Kate, Jane, and Fiona had set up food in the kitchen for a buffet style meal. Brody made sure that drinks were always on-hand. Liam, Jack, and Simon visited the donkeys, but they mostly talked of duck-hunting. Cora eventually seemed more relaxed in an environment where she was merely a guest, and finally let herself enjoy the camaraderie. Even the subdued Moynihan's seemed enlivened by the energy of the household.

It was a good day had by all, especially Brody and Flinn Sweeney, who won some large bets on a few horses; and also for Simon, because he began to see himself in others.

The remaining handful of days before Simon's departure was rainy and cold; Brody told him to get used to it. Around the property, the two discussed docks and boats, signs to watch for with the donkeys, and more ideas concerning crafts and their planned shop. Indoors, usually over meals or sitting back in the living room, Simon told of a few instances during his cursed years. From those stories, Brody and Kate had a better understanding of what he went through, and inwardly cringed at the pain it must have caused. Another main topic during those days was the fae and all that had been learned from one of the Other Crowd, someone who the couple considered a friend.

A number of short trips were made out to the home that awaited Simon's possession. He and Brody would sit out in the sun room and discuss land updates or what to plant in the neglected garden at the back of the lawn. Whenever the rain would let up, they'd inspect the huge outbuilding and the small horse barn. Simon made mention of things he'd have to sell, items and machinery that might be difficult to find anywhere nearby.

To solve the problem of metalsmith equipment, Brody offered - then insisted on - hiring a small cargo plane to fly everything Simon owned over all at once. His cousin protested the possible cost, but Brody considered the matter settled.

As the two men stood in discussion under the carport behind the house, they were being watched. Just beyond the lawn, nestled in bushes and shaded by a few trees, sat a small stone shed with a slate roof. The cousins had no idea it was there, for it had been glamoured to remain hidden. It was a small but sturdy construct, old and settled but clean, with only a small front door and a tiny four-pane window in the front. It was Liadan's new haven, recently earned from her pact with Enochia.

The little fae had seen the labor crews come and go, and then Brody with another man on two occasions. But this time, she gleaned that the straw-haired human was a relative of Mr. Lynch, and that fellow would soon be moving in. The brownie hovered back to her haven, shaking her head with a reluctant smile. 'That clever oracle,' Liadan thought, 'she knows her business, sure'.

In the men's sporadic absences, Kate retrieved information from the internet involving house prices and land values in Simon's area of Colorado. Since assessments had risen from when he first bought the property outright, she suggested that he place it on the market at the same price he paid for it if a quick sale was desired. She also made inquiries into costs for cargo planes and moving companies, finding it much cheaper than what Brody paid for a private jet flight.

Besides those searches, Kate also kept up on their stock portfolio, emails from recipients reporting how the Foundation donations were being used, and adding updates to the Rose Foundation website. She realized they could use the skills of a competent, discreet web designer, both for the Foundation and Brody's upcoming shop.

New Year's Eve was spent at the cottage, with Alana joining the three of them for a quieter celebration than she usually attended. Their private party ran late, and the other spare bedroom was claimed by Kate's inebriated long-time friend. In the morning of New Year's Day, Brody and Kate were up well before their guests. They discussed any last options to entertain Simon before he left the following day, but soon decided that he'd probably be in no shape for any adventures after the late night of alcohol he'd just had.

They were correct. Alana was invited to stay until she felt up to driving herself home, which turned out to be in the afternoon. Simon lingered around the cottage like an arthritic old man for part of the day. Brody had no pity and mocked him at every opportunity. Simon took it on the chin.

Standing in the Shannon Airport terminal, Simon offered his fond farewells to his big, younger cousin and the good woman at his side until he returned, the next time as a neighbor. Brody held him firmly for a few seconds and spoke his heartfelt thanks for Simon's presence over the holidays. He found Brody to be even more gregarious and affable - and muscle-bound - in person. His generosity was to be admired; Simon doubted he'd be so giving in Brody's shoes. And the love between Brody and Kate was a near-tangible thing.

While Kate gave Simon a soft hug, he thought of her displays of emotion toward Brody, as well as her frequent stares of adoration toward her man; Simon was glad his cousin had a good woman in his life. The demure, classic beauty type like Kate didn't fit his own preferences, but it fit Brody perfectly. They were great hosts and even better friends, and on more than one occasion showed that family was most important above all else. Simon felt like the worm had turned.

Brody and Kate waved one last time before Simon walked down the tunnel to his plane. In private discussions, they'd both agreed on a number of each other's insights regarding Simon Rike. While an independent man and comfortable with silence, Simon also longed for human connection, albeit in short amounts and on his terms. He was many things, all at once: sad, gruff, funny, and grounded.

Kate thought Simon was a cordial guest; well-mannered when the situation called for it, and had some traits to be admired. She was happy that Brody finally had family he could be proud of.

Brody thought that he and Simon had only grown closer during his visit; they shared many common interests, both important and trivial, and their talks or shared silence were relaxed and natural. He wanted the best for his cousin, and hoped Simon would finally find peace of mind in the comfort of Ireland's soft rains and warm people. He was already impatient for his cousin's permanent return.

"So," Brody wondered as he and Kate stood hand in hand while watching Simon's plane taxi out to a runway, "what do you think now? Still have the same impressions as when he got here?"

"Hmm; I still say Simon is eccentric but endearing, once you get past his tough exterior. But there are two things I'm sure of now. For one, he needed this experience with you and other good people. And for another," Kate gave Brody's big hand a squeeze with her small one, "Simon's loneliness is fading."

"That's really good to hear," he said softly.

Kate looked up and saw her fella still gazing out the window, but with a deep, satisfied smile on his handsome face. "Come along," she said with an enthusiastic grin, giving his hand a tug, "I believe we have some shopping to do."

Chapter 33

At the base of the sought low mountain haven, the spriggan guards told Aldritch that his redcap companion was not welcome, so he allowed Lorcan his freedom until once again called for. The tall dryad followed one guard up the winding, steep path to the plateau above. That wide landing, surrounded by a cave entrance on one side and sheer cliffs on the others, was where he would be met by one of the elders of the last Circle gathering.

While on the rocky climb, Aldritch had time to study the spriggan who escorted him. Having only met a few of that low-caste race, he assumed all of them shared similar traits. Spriggans were affiliated with or distant kin of trolls; much like nymphs were to dryads, or harpies to Drommen.

Spriggans were stout and short, normally only four feet tall or so, but could expand their size to near Aldritch's height and many times his lean girth. All Spriggans could be described as having heavy bellies, broad shoulders, with braids of dull brown hair on their heads and barbaric faces, and ugly noses hanging over thick mustaches.

Under fealty to a high-borne, spriggans were fiercely loyal. They were also dim-witted and could only follow simple orders. The majority of their race roamed freely in packs and often caused mischief; many war parties had been assembled to keep those packs in check. Spriggan's limited gift of self-transformation, usually into barriers or tower shields, proved the wild ones difficult to bring down, but excellent for guardianship if one had a master. A fae's prestige was heightened if a retinue of spriggans were in service. The elder he came to see had many.

Reaching the broad, flat plateau, Aldritch saw more spriggan servants tending a large fire with a Verden pig on a spit over it. Two other servants were setting two huge, sturdy rustic chairs nearby, facing each other, with a low stone table between them.

Aldritch stood off to one side and waited for his host while he looked out on the vast panorama that this haven enjoyed. A higher-ranked retainer approached, formally stated that his master would come soon, and that Aldritch was invited to sit and enjoy spring water or Lore wine while he waited. Following his own high standards of etiquette, the dryad elder was thankful but remained in place until his host arrived. The view of wild fields with its roaming cattle and distant ranges as dusk settled was pleasantly distracting until then.

A low, rumbling voice, deeper than Aldritch's, came from the direction of the cave entrance behind him. "Welcome, Aldritch of the Old Wood." He turned to see a gigantic troll, easily head and shoulders over his own formidable height, approaching with a subtle smile. His dusty plum skin stood in contrast to the rocky background, and his rich purple hair shined in the firelight. Many battle scars were evident outside of the troll's simple, off-white toga. Stopping at a polite distance, Aldritch's host added, "Be at ease on my land."

With a simple bow, Aldritch replied, "Greetings, elder Ragnar of the Red Rock. My appreciation is given for this audience."

Ragnar gestured to the chairs and they both sat. While servants silently served drinks in stone mugs, the huge troll commented, "I have heard of your name from many Verden-faring fae; your reputation precedes you."

"Not an altogether favorable reputation, I suspect, while I have heard your name and title mentioned with respect and fear from many warriors for long and long."

"Well enough, then," Ragnar stated with a pleasant expression. "We knew of each other, and now we finally meet. I've not heard of you offering challenges for havens, nor do I see you as the recruiting type for the latest call to battle. So, what brings you to me?" Ragnar kept his eyes on his guest, but took a swig of wine with one hand and gestured to his servants with the other.

Glancing to the side, Aldritch saw a spriggan servant slicing meat from the roasted pig while another held a stone platter to catch the cuts of pork. Looking back to his enormous host, he answered, "You know I am not here to challenge you, else why would you graciously serve me hospitality and food?"

Ragnar grinned amiably, "As a last meal, perhaps?"

Aldritch returned the grin with his own, one without malice or dark intent. In single combat, he wasn't so proud not to admit to himself that Ragnar would be the victor. "And, if I may ask before I state my reason for being here... What 'latest call to battle'?"

Leaning forward as the heap of meat was set on the table, Ragnar said, "One of your own, the Lady Saraid Moon Maiden, is calling for warriors to meet against several rebellious fae in some remote locale of the Eire. Her messengers spout words of 'defiant glee' against the Circle, and unresolved breaches of Enigma."

While Ragnar began eating succulent cuts with his fingers, Aldritch sat back with heightened distress, his hand resting absently on his chin. He waited until his host swallowed a bite, and asked, "Is this with the consent of the Circle of Prudence?"

Shrugging, Ragnar replied, "If you're able to convene a gathering in time, then tell me what they say and we'll both know. But," the troll elaborated while he chose another chunk of meat, "knowing Saraid and her passions, she'll look to have that area cleansed of fae, and any humans in breach along with them, before a Circle can discuss it. By then, the matter will be done with. As you know," he pointed to Aldritch with a dripping slice of pork, "most fae see more reason to look forward than back. Elements help us, we are a selfish folk."

Not wanting to offend his host in not sampling the proffered meal, Aldritch sat forward and chose a piece of meat. Before taking a bite, he asked, "And what is your position on the situation?"

Ragnar took a sip of water to cleanse his palate before answering, "I hope you don't await my answer to help influence your own decision. Besides, I didn't think that matter would hold much interest for you. I thought you were coming to me with another issue."

Still holding the warm piece of meat with his fingers, Aldritch said, "I fear my issue and the one you mentioned are one and the same." He looked at Ragnar with somber eyes. "My decision on the matter of the impending attack cannot be influenced; I believe I am one of Saraid's targets."

The admission caught Ragnar off-guard, and it showed on his war-scarred face. He slowly set his cup down and leaned back in his chair. "By all means," the curious troll said, "regale me with a story."

Aldritch swallowed his morsel of meat and scooted forward in the oversized chair. He then reached into a deep inner pocket of his long coat and pulled out a simple wooden bowl with a roughly circular tree bark lid, held secure with a live vine. He set it down, saying, "I'll begin with this." He touched the vine and it recoiled. Aldritch then removed the lid, revealing what looked like a dense pile of ash.

Ragnar craned his head forward to look at the contents. "And that is?"

"A promise kept. You'll need a new magistrate."

***

After a long afternoon spent with Brody and Kate, Jane finally got in her adored little Fiat and began the short drive home. Most of the day was devoted to sprucing up a cute house out on a quiet little road only a mile or so outside of Ballaghadaere.

She thought that while there weren't many rooms in that house, each was spacious and had nice views. [Doors] Apparently, the house was bought by Brody's cousin; the tall, quiet blonde man with a hint of western twang in his accent that she'd met a couple times. Jane overheard her sister and Brody talking about that relative arriving the next day, and how they'd have to get his visa sorted when they picked him up.

For the last weekend of January, the air was merely cool and the clouds only sporadic. Jane supposed the fair weather gave Brody good enough reason to go and double-check the conditions of the outbuildings of his kin's new place. [White door] She gladly tagged along, in part to see the property, but also because of her sister's fella. Jane thought Brody was always so relaxed, always ready for a smile, and genuinely interested in what she had to say. And that he was a fine thing didn't hurt matters, either, even if he was a tad too brawny for her liking.

More than anything else, though, Jane couldn't forget how Brody saved Kate and her mam from his bad kin, as well as gifted her with a nice car and a gorgeous guitar. [Two doors] Jane loved Brody, but wasn't in love with him; it was more like hero-worship, or having another older brother. Jane was a bit envious of Kate having such a good fella, but mostly she was happy for her.

Jane only wished she was so lucky. Her own new beau, Donal, wasn't like the airs he put on to get a date. Over the last month, he'd slowly shown himself as a bit of a gobshite and acting the maggot around her. Never complimentary, he'd always give pointers of how he thought something would be better, as if he had a clue.

Jane increasingly found Donal to be a gowl, especially in public; he'd try to untie her ponytail, preferring her hair down, or correct her statements. He even once falsely blamed her being pissed at him on her period to his mates. [One room, two doors] Donal had also started pressuring for sex, but Jane planned to keep herself pure - somewhat - until things felt right. With him being a gammy muppet, he was far from right.

Donal didn't even offer to join in and make himself a few bob when Jane told him of her plans for the day. In contrast, she'd helped him with simple chores before and without so much as a thank you. Jane planned to make Donal's release official soon enough. [Open the doors]

Pulling into the drive of her house, Jane wondered once again about the reoccurring dreams she'd been having; they'd begun to pervade her waking thoughts. Perhaps 'reoccurring' wasn't the correct word, but she used it to describe a number of similar sleeping visions that focused on doors over the last few weeks.

Whereas most people might find their own repeated dreams a bad portent of some kind, not so with Jane. Her door dreams came with a feeling of wonder and adventure, like she was on the verge of a fantastic discovery. She debated the concept that the dreams were symbolic of her hopeful singing career; maybe it meant that uni wasn't for Jane, and another door of possibilities awaited her.

Jane's parents were in front of the telly, which by their routine meant they'd soon be off to bed. They greeted her warmly - especially her da, although her mam was coming around - and asked how her day went. She told them all about the nice place and the big fields that surrounded it, but kept Brody's insistence of paying her to herself. [One door, then another] Jane knew that her parents felt he was too generous and his well would run dry soon enough. But her sister Kate, always level-headed, didn't show any concern.

When her mam asked, Jane assured them that she'd been fed; Brody's leftovers for lunch and Chinese takeout from the small village restaurant for tea. She eventually said her good-nights and then hurried upstairs to open her play room to make some notes in her journal.

The play room hadn't changed much lately, except for the sudden remembrance once she entered that her friend Gideon hadn't visited in a while. A few posters had been updated, continuing to change to reflect her moods. Likewise, the practice stage always had simplistic props coming and going at her whim.

Jane sat at her desk with the journal open to an empty page. She thought of how to describe the possible meanings of her dreams, but her eyes and mind kept drifting to the far wall at the other end of the room, which was devoid of decoration. Jane kept visualizing a door there, like an artist contemplating an empty canvas. Her mind kept superimposing a simple, narrow white door on the blank wall. The longer she visualized it, the stronger the urge built to draw another door.

With shallow breaths and her heart thumping from anxiety and excitement, Jane took a piece of chalk with trembling fingers and slowly walked to the wall.

As she drew the door from her dreams onto the wall with the lump of green chalk, questions ran franticly through her mind. What was on the other side? Where did it lead, if anywhere? Was this safe? Would it lead to Heaven, or hell? Was there yet another room beyond? What if it opened in outer space, and she was sucked into it?

Jane remembered the feeling of high adventure from her dreams, and her more fearful questions abated. She stepped back to look at her drawing. Despite shaking hands, the lines were straight and smooth. Jane took a deep breath to calm her nerves and focus her mind, dispelling erratic notions. She closed her eyes, hesitantly put a hand on that second door, and pushed it open.

Cool air wafted in, carrying a slight earthy scent. Jane immediately opened her eyes. The door had swung halfway open, revealing a virtually colorless landscape beyond. The white door's passage had been hampered by tall, dull wild grass, damp from a thick mist that softened the desolate scenery. A small patch of slender, pale trees stood nearby, their lower thin branches limp and bereft of foliage. Further out into the dense fog, more silhouetted trees formed a denser wooded area.

Any further vision into the background was unknowable, obfuscated by that fog. The sky was a uniform gray, giving no clues as to direction or time of day, save that it wasn't nighttime there. Jane knew that the sun had already set on Ireland hours ago, so the bleak land outside the second door must have been far away. It was further than she thought.

Exhilaration and curiosity overriding her fear, Jane wanted to see more of the landscape than what the entry view offered. Grabbing the frame of the doorway for support, she took an unsteady step out into the alien territory.

Just then, a luminous ball of pink light shot over her head from inside the play room, and out into the mist. A yelp of surprise came out of Jane's mouth before she could control herself. As the light spun and danced out by the nearest trees, its glow fuzzy from the mist, Jane thought she heard it giggle. As it went about its dizzy course, it emanated another happy sound, an innocent and whimsical titter. That sound called to her; it carried a hidden promise of cherished youthful dreams, as when she was just a smallie.

With a joyous smile, Jane watched as another pastel ball of light, pale yellow in the thick mist, came from the thicker woods and joined the first. They moved away in lazy circles, all the while chuckling in girlish tones that pulled at Jane's heart. As the lights retreated into the thicket, voices began to call to her by name; playful, laughing, high-pitched voices, their tones promising the carefree joy that only a child would know.

Her mind a whirl, thinking only of innocent pleasures, Jane called back to the fading fairy lights. "No, wait! I want to play!" Lost in the lure of the wisps' enchantment, she followed out into the tall grass and fog. The door, forgotten in Jane's clouded mind, quickly faded from existence behind her.

The voices called once more while they fluttered into the darker recesses of the woods. Jane walked quickly to catch up, her eyes staring only forward. She entered into the thicker stand of the slender trees without worry or fear, trying to keep the alluring lights in sight. They were temporarily lost from view, so Jane kept moving forward. One glimpse, and then gone. Another glimpse of the distant pink and yellow lights, hazy in the mist, and then they disappeared.

The spell abruptly fled from Jane's mind, letting her senses return, and a freezing fear overtook her.

Jane stood very still and took account of her surroundings. Her shallow breaths plumed in the cool, humid air. She stood in a forest with no discernible view of the grassy fields. She had no sense of bearing to decide on a direction to escape the woods; there were no apparent tracks on the mossy earth. From her shoes up to the knees of her jeans were damp from the dewy grass and sparse forest underbrush. She had no idea where she was. She didn't know where her door was. The air was still and eerily silent.

Jane's breathing became more labored. Her eyes darted about, paranoid for any movement. Gulping down a scream of panic, she suddenly bolted, hoping - needing - to escape the ominous woods.

Jane ran with an overpowering dread, altering directions when obstacles of brambles or a thick patch of trees thwarted her. Panting audibly, she ignored the pain in her side from the exertion. Terror tried to take hold, telling her she'd be forever lost in these woods.

Jane suddenly saw an opening ahead, and her heart leaped. Even without a way home figured out yet, the foggy fields were preferable over that haunting forest. Finally reaching the grasslands, she stumbled clear of the trees and stopped. Bracing her hands on slightly bent knees, Jane leaned over and tried to refill her lungs. She muttered with raspy, breathless whispers, "Oh God, oh my sweet fucking Jesus, thank you, God."

Once again able to breathe deeply, Jane stood straight and looked around for any familiar lays of the land. It was hopeless; none of the bleak landscape was recognizable. She was utterly lost.

With senses heightened from her lingering paranoia, Jane caught movement in the corner of her eye. In the blurry distance, a figure shrouded in mist came to a halt. From its vague silhouette, Jane could get no clear image, save that the apparently tall and lean person casually held a long, thin walking stick. They both stood in motionless silence for a few seconds.

Before Jane could decide on a course of action, a gentle yet masculine voice called to her through the gloom. "You must be Jane McCarthy; how nice to meet you."

###

Author's note: The fictional village of Ballaghadaere (pronounced Bala-dare) is closely based on Ballaghaderreen (pronounced by many as Bala-hadreen), a quaint little town in northern County Roscommon, Ireland. Lough Gaell (pronounced Gail) is actually Lough Gara, a lake near Ballaghaderreen. Moylaira Castle is actually Moygara Castle, the ruin of which is near both Ballaghaderreen and Lough Gara. Names of locations have been changed for the hell of it; this is fiction, after all. Also, I didn't want to take the chance of stepping on any Irish toes, which I'm told is very bad luck.
