CHAPTER 17

He twisted the end of the fag and stuck it in his mouth, struck a match, applied the flame to the shredded tobacco sticking out at the end of the paper and inhaled. Half-heartedly, he listened to Ken and Ellen go on and on about the apparition. Rose sauntered over to him, looped an arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder. He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised.

"What do you think, Faery or ghost?" Rose asked, her nasal whine made Cian pull back, just a fraction, she'd never even sense or notice his reaction to her voice. All eyes turned toward him. He shrugged and took another drag.

"Both," he replied, exhaling the smoke from his mouth and nostrils, giving the illusion that he was a fire-breathing dragon, simmering, preparing to spew forth a torch of blue flame. In the distance a flock of Raven's took flight, their cacophony shattering the serene hilltop.

Ken took a step toward Cian. "What do you mean?" he challenged, his dislike for Cian had grown more after watching how the man looked at Vivian, stood close to her, whispered in her ear, was the recipient of her soft eyes and curved full lips and gentle touches. He wanted to be in that position, be the one to whom she turned when she was confused or wanted advice or needed assistance, not some grungy-looking Irish man with a bad English accent. He glanced at Mark, who had decided to come after all and winked at him, a conspiratal wink that said You hate him too don't you?

"Easy," said Cian slow to respond, examining the look of distaste on Ken's face. "If a Faery took physical form or was a half-blood and was killed then the essence of his soul would haunt just as human's do. Ghost Faery."

"Wow!" Rose said. She gazed up into Cian's face adoringly.

"What do you mean if a Faery took physical form?" asked Ken, squinting at Cian as if he him self knew the answer and was only testing the man.

Suzie shifted her weight forward, and leaned on her legs. She had been watching from her seat on the stone wall corridor that led to the entrance of the cairn. She had been intently focused on the dim passage tunnel, wondering how long Vivian would be inside, wanting badly to go after her, to be included in the private things she was doing. The conversation interested her though, it made the baby move inside, just a plunk against her upper belly, or maybe it was because she was hungry, again, and this little creature inside was just complaining.

She slipped her hand inside a pocket and fingered the envelope. All she needed was an unnoticed moment to give it to Cian and whisper the words she'd been rehearsing all morning. She watched him take a final drag on his cigarette before stubbing it out and pocketing the roach; how she longed for a taste of tobacco. Since she'd gotten pregnant, Vivian made her swear off smoking. Suzie didn't dare tell her friend and mentor that she was still inhaling half a pack a day. Since they'd come to Ireland she'd only been able to sneak in one or two a day, and it was killing her. Suzie licked her lips and felt another internal kick.

"When a Faery chooses to reincarnate or be born through a human and take human form -- this is usually done because of some important work needing to be accomplished and can only be performed while in physical form -- then if that Faery while in physical form suffers death at the hands of another its soul or spirit is trapped earthside. It will haunt the body of land upon which it was killed just like any human ghost. The only difference is that unlike a human ghost, which seems to usually be confined to the location of death, a Faery can roam the entire land."

"You mean it can go all over the earth?" asked Shelbie. Rose stepped next to Shelbie and stood with the others so she could face him while he took on the teacher role.

"No," replied Cian, shaking his head. "Only the parcel of land, like Ireland, or whatever continent or island it may have died on."

"So if a Faery was killed in Australia that Faery would be trapped on Australia?" asked Ellen.

"That's right, but the likelihood of a Faery being in Australia is pretty near impossible --" began Cian.

"And why is that?" demanded Ken.

"Because the Faery are from Ireland, or of Ireland," Cian responded matter-of-factly.

"So there are no Faery in America?" asked Marcella, shocked.

"Why would there be?"

"Because they're earth spirits and can go all over the place," concluded Rose.

"Ah, you're talking about the elementals," said Cian, looking at Marcella, who clicked her tongue while mulling over his question.

"Yes sir, I guess that's what I mean," came her southern drawl.

"There are nature spirits all over the world, small, mischievous creatures," he said.

"You mean like gnomes, sprites, undines, slyphs, salamanders?" asked Mark. He glanced at Ellen, pretty Ellen with her milk white skin.

"Yeah, but they're not Faery, even though all you Americans call nature spirits that. You're all so crazy over Faery sightings that you've fooled yourself into believing that the Faery and elves dwell in America."

"They don't?" asked Shelbie disappointed.

"What about the Indian reports of little people?" asked Marcella.

"Or the Aborigines' and their little people?" shot Ken.

"And don't even the Hawaiians' have little people?" asked Rose.

Cian laughed and looked at Suzie.

"You have an argument to throw at me too?" he asked her in good fun. Suzie had been through all this years ago with Vivian. She straightened and rubbed her belly.

"The Faery are Irish, and Ireland is their home, their physical origin," she stated. "It's possible that at one time there was a race of little people who lived on our planet, and their memory has became a folk legend. The Scots had their Picts, and I believe the English had Brownies?" She looked to Cian for confirmation.

"That's right," he said smiling. "Vivian has taught you well."

Suzie cringed at the compliment, although Vivian had taught her everything she knew about Ireland and the Faery, actually anything magical. Suzie shrugged and smiled back.

"She's the best," she agreed.

"I guess I haven't had that lesson yet," said Rose, looking at Suzie.

"Me neither," added Mark, smiling.

A natural silence floated down around the waiting group like a soft fluffy blanket. Each person was lulled into their own thoughts, some with eyes closed and face titled toward the sun, others with eyes wide open soaking up the surrounding landscape, the only opportunity to take it all in.

A shuffling sound brought their attention to the opening of the cairn. Vivian appeared, white faced, glazed eyes, stiff and zombie-like. Shelbie giggled at her demeanor. Suzie scrambled off the rock onto her feet.

Cian turned and faced Vivian. He knew instantly something had happened and watched closely as she paused at the entry wall and leaned against it as if using it for support. He moved to her and bent down, peering at the side of her face.

"What's wrong?" he gently asked.

She faced him and jerked her head toward the passage, then turned and moved back the way she'd come.

"You all wait here," he instructed, then privately to Suzie, "I'll find out what's wrong." He followed Vivian into the cairn.

They stood in the center of the inner chamber. Vivian stood with her back to Cian as he looked around, taking it in, the lit candles, the open ritual bag lying in the middle of the space, its contents pouring out; strips of red cloth, tea-candles, a crystal sphere, a sage smudge stick, matches. He'd never seen its contents or it so carelessly open. He shivered as memories of the last time he'd been here raced through his mind.

He focused on the middle of Vivian's back, the pale yellow dress with tiny white flowers and green leaves, the tenseness of her shoulders, the indentation of her waist, her hips. He felt himself harden, and stepped behind her, her body now only a few inches from his. The scent of her perfume filled his head. Pleasures. He'd asked her once what the name of it was, thinking he would get some for Cindy; it was clean smelling, fresh, exciting. But it was Vivian's smell. He bent slightly so that his mouth and nose were close to the top of her head, her full curly head of hair, worn free, not pulled back, or tied-down or plastered to her head, or stiff with gels and mousse and hairspray, but soft and inviting. Tenderly, he placed his hand on her shoulder.

Vivian turned to face him, her green eyes focusing on his. Cian was surprised when she moved to him, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head against his chest. It felt natural to circle her with his arms and rest his chin on the softness of her hair, fully realized and cherished.

He held her, her knight, her protector, and oh how he wished in that moment to be more than that to her, to be the focus of her every thought, to be the center of her life. Cian fell into the embrace and rested his check against her head, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, breathing in the embrace like a fragrant rose, as if his next breath depended on it.

The embrace melted as quickly as it had formed, as fast as the snow flake so pure and original and complete disappears upon touching the branch of a tree or the top of a shrub or falls soundlessly to the earth. Her feelings, the deep emotion she felt merged with the grave and she stepped away from him, pointing to the back alcove as she did so.

"A man-- there-- putting candles out-- movement-- materialized," she stammered. With those words the experience sprang back and she fell apart, blubbering, attempting to tell him everything at once. She played with the pewter bracelet circling her left wrist, moving her fingers over the spirals etched into the metal, spinning it around her wrist as if desperately hoping that the wheel of fortune would suddenly stop on the color and number on which she had placed her bet....