No Time to Cry (Nine While Nine Legacy Book 1) (31 page)

He grabbed me
roughly, holding me from backing any further away from him. His breathing was
rough, his eyes merciless, whether with denied passion or reined in wrath I
didn’t want to know, and didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“S
íos
a Tabhair leat
an
gaoithe
,
A
dúnmharú
ar
préachá
n, Le
éadóchas
, Tar l
éanta
milis
searbh
...”I
spoke the words softly, breathlessly, yet they resonated in the afternoon
breeze beneath the shadowy trees.

A shiver ran the
course of my spine and through my bones, as I exhaled those words. And I knew
what they meant, but I didn’t know where they were coming from. But I could
feel them in me, echoing from deep within me, from the place my own power
dwelt. It’s that language...of the Rúnaigh.

The breeze
turned into a strong wind, rushing through the trees, rattling the branches,
whipping the leaves in the garden, spinning them around our legs. The caws of
the crows grew louder and they began dipping down from their perches within the
trees, circling downward closer to us.

The look on
Gideon’s faced turned from anger and desire to disbelief and uncertainty. I
felt his grip loosening on my shoulders, his hands releasing me.

Those words were
bringing down the wind and the crows, pushing him from me, immobilizing him, so
I could leave.

I dared one look
back at Gideon when I reached the sidewalk. The winds were mellowing, the crows
soaring back up to their stations in the trees. He began moving towards me, but
paused of his own resolve.

His eyes
narrowed slightly, and then widened a nearly imperceptible degree. His
expression was one of bewilderment, and maybe some marvel tossed in the mix as
well. He looked at me like I was something he didn’t recognize. Was it also
somewhat displeased? No, that was the wrong word, but it was close. Not quite
alarmed, but unsettled was pretty close too.

I had surpassed
his expectations, what
they
could do. That’s ‘how much more’ I was.

~ Chapter Thirty ~

The trail from the large stone and wood
cabin to the revelry area was lit with the amber and golden glow of little lanterns,
they were strewn throughout the lower branches of the trees all along the
wooded path on which we walked. They swayed in the gentle evening breeze,
recalling to me the bobbing lights from my dreams.

We could hear
the party ahead already commencing, there was laughter and voices, chatting and
the lovely, exhilarating music consisting of fiddles, drums, and pipes.

The path ended
at a huge circular clearing surrounded by forest, the meadow was filled with
wooden tables, chairs, straw bales, blankets, cushions, and even some hammocks
hung in a couple of the trees. The same amber lanterns hung from the branches
here, as they had along the trail, and were scattered all about the celebration
site. A large array of food and drink were arranged on the many tables.

The moon was
rising full again—the true full moon was out this night—and the sky was clear,
dotted with myriad twinkling stars.

All was centered
around a huge bonfire. Scented smoke was rising forth from it, smelling of
dried leaves, cedar, pine, clove, rosemary, mugwort, and sage. Large black
stones made up the fire ring and I spotted piles of smaller grey stones on
either side.

“What are the
rocks for?” I asked Michael.

“It’s a
tradition to write your name on a stone and toss it into the flames. The next
day when the fire has burnt out, you retrieve your stone,
the condition of
the stone the next morning predicts what is in store for you in the coming
year.”

“Huh, neat.” I smiled.

Michael’s accent was charming, as were
those of the others. His seemed more British though. What was it about those
damn accents anyway?

“Ale, spiced cider, or elderberry wine?”
A pretty girl asked as we approached one of the many tables offering up food and
spirits. “Gale made the elderberry wine himself.” Her accent held more of a
Scottish burr. “It’s wonderful.” She smiled at me.

“I’ll try that then, please.” She handed
me a goblet filled with a generous amount.

“Blessed
D
eireadh
an
S
amhraidh
!” She exclaimed.

“And to you
too.” She wasn’t kidding; the wine was the best I’d ever had. It might very
easily become my favorite. Michael took the one she presented to him.

“Cheers,” he
said, tapping his goblet against mine. The goblets were very much like the ones
in my dream. I was beginning to notice many similarities this night.

I let my eyes
wander the meadow. It was wonderful. Something from a movie set, or a dream.

Pumpkins and
gourds, some carved and some waiting for a creative hand to find them, were set
on tables and all along the perimeter of the party zone.

We wandered
around, sampling tidbits of delicious and aromatic food, liberating more wine
from their bottles and into our goblets.

There was a
table with a girl reading Tarot cards and stones with carvings in them. “Ogham
stones,” Michael informed me. “She casts them out and reads the spread, and the
meanings carved into them.”

“Maybe she can
tell me more than Gideon has.” I joked…sort of.

Michael looked at
me thoughtfully, began to say something, hesitated before going on. “Well,
you’ll be learning tonight.”

A group was
playing music, sometimes accompanied by song, but mostly it was just the
instruments playing softly in the background.

We made our way
back to the fire, where Michael’s friend Declan was standing, calling for his
guest’s attention.

“Everyone is
here, let’s get this celebration rolling.” He grinned. I wondered briefly if he
was Rúnaigh.
“Welcome
to our
D
eireadh
an
S
amhraidh
merriments. The dark winter half of the
year commences on this O
íche
F
éile
, Festival Night.
D
eireadh
an
S
amhraidh
, Summer’s End, is celebrated on October
thirty-first, extending into the following day, our New Year. So will end our
light half of the year and will begin our dark half.

“Since the arrival of Na
Síraide
Cinn in this realm, thousands of years ago,
a feast has been laid out for the Wandering Host on doorsteps and altars, set
out in the fields and woods. Single candles would be lit and left in a
window
to help guide the Sióg and spirits to
the homes of the faithful. Extra
seats
were set at the table and around the
hearth for the ‘unseen’ guests. Apples were buried along roadsides and paths
for the other Sióg.

“This is a night of magic and chaos, be
mindful where you wander, beware of the bedlam and mischief.

“With that, please help yourself to the
bounty before you; feast, drink, and make merry!”

As Declan
concluded
his discourse
, a rousing cheer went up, the music grew louder,
and guests began to dance around the fire.
Michael then told me Declan
was an
Ai
ríoch
Breathnadóir, a keeper of the records,
a watcher of the Earthbound, human and
Sióg
alike. Interesting.

Michael placed a
cute little set of horns on my head, they were made of some kind of fired and
glazed clay and painted a beautiful glittering blue, and had a lovely little
spiraling twist to them. He strung feathers through my curls as well.

“It’s
tradition.” He laughed as he gave me a crooked grin. “Drink up.” He pushed my
hand that held my drink to my lips, making me down the last of the wine.

He took the cup
and set it aside on a blanket spread on the ground, grabbed my hand, and
dragged me out to join the others that were already dancing.

He spun me
around playfully. “Let’s dance!” He shouted over the din of laughter and song.

And we did…for
the longest time, with small breaks only taken for more cider or wine. I was
happy, the happiest I’d been since all of this began. Actually, I don’t think
I’d ever had so much fun. More than fun, this felt like home. I felt wild and
free and soaring above all the muck that had been wearing me down, not for just
these past weeks, but past years also.

Something was in
the air tonight—more than on any other Halloween of my life—was it because I
was finally celebrating it the way it was meant to be?

I looked all
around me, and my dancing pace slowed just a bit, my eyes narrowed taking in
those around me dancing, and roved across the others whom were peppered across
the meadow, some just entering the woods. Some of them were kind of glowy.

As I passed one
girl—a shimmering girl—as I danced around the leaping flames, I heard her say
as she smiled at me, “Welcome home.” But it was only in my head, her lips had
not moved.

“Michael?” I
turned to him, grabbing his hand. “Why are some of us glowing?” I whispered in
his ear and hauled him to a straw bale, plopping tiredly down on it to take a
rest, and dragging him down to sit next to me. “Holy
crow
!
Michael, some of them are glowing,” I said in a low voice.

“Because some of
them are
us
.” Was his answer. I looked at him perplexed. “Happy
O
íche
F
éile
!” He chuckled.
“Let me fill you in a little more since this is your first trip down this road.

“Tonight is one of the two
‘spirit-nights’ each year, the other being
F
éadfaidh
L
á
, you’ve probably heard of
Beltane?”

 I nodded,
I had.

“
Well, there
exists a Thin Veil between the realms and on this night the tedious laws of
time and space are temporarily deferred, and it’s lifted. I’m sure you’ve heard
that of Halloween, that ghosts can come back to visit?”

I nodded again.

“Well, so can the other kinds of
spirits, nature spirits and such…and the Sióg.

“We celebrate with feasting and dancing,
as we’ve been doing tonight and for eons before. The lowering of that veil
tonight provides extra power for interactions and communications, as well as
divination.

“The Sióg become very active, some
pulling pranks on unsuspecting, unbelieving humans, others just mingling
amongst the humans. Because some that come through may not hold the best
intentions, traveling after dark is not advised. Staying clear of the woods
when alone is also urged.

“Centuries ago, those not of the Old
Ways wore disguises in order to fool the mischievous ones. That’s in part where
the practice of costume wearing comes from.

“Turnips and gourds were hollowed out
and carved to look like spirits, to distract those that might cause mischief or
hardship that night. As you can see, Declan has set some out for us to carve
for fun, and pumpkins too, but they also serve a purpose, beyond merely
decorating your front porch.”

He studied my face, smiling, as I
absorbed all he was telling me.

 A crash course in the true meaning
of Halloween, which I would now forever refer to as
D
eireadh
an
S
amhraidh
.

He kept bouncing
between present tense and past tense. I guess because these things happened
way-back-when…and still were happening now.

Tonight, I could
see them tonight? Any of the mythical creatures I’d only ever read about?

“Bonfires are built, originally called
bone-fires, for after feasting, the bones were thrown in the fire as offerings
for
healthy
and ample
livestock in the New Year. We also use the fires as a basic part of the
cleansing of the old year and as a means to prepare for the coming new year. Unwanted
habits that were desired to be ended were written down on a scrap of paper and
cast into the flames. There are paper and pens on that table right over there,
in case you’d like to partake of that tradition as well as the stone toss.
Fires were also lit from the village bonfire to ensure harmony, and the ashes
were spread over the harvested fields to protect and bless the land.”

“Were you around back then? Were you…did
you ever go to a celebration that was set up to honor you?”

“Of course.”

“”What year are we talking? Just for
example.”

He laughed a deep, warm laugh. “The
1600s held some very pleasurable gatherings.”

I couldn’t even answer.

He’d been dancing around the fire since
at
least
1600 and something?

 “We’re honored here now, and we
pay tribute to those on the other side.”

“So what is it with us all sporting
these costumes, wasn’t that just for the non-believers, to scare away the
spirits…and the Sióg? And what is the Sióg?”

“First question…the Celts, who were of
the Old Ways, wore costumes and danced around the bonfire to honor both the
dead and the Sióg who were permitted to enter from the Other Realm, to welcome
and guide them in this Realm. It was also a means to honor the Celtic Gods and
Goddesses of the harvest, flocks, and fields. As was done all that long time
ago, is still the way it’s done now. As we are celebrating tonight. Hence your
makeshift costume. You won’t find any naughty nurses here or cowboys. We dress
as wild things.”

“And the Sióg?”

“The Sióg are those that came forth from
T
iarnas
.
Dominion. The Realm of Fae. Thousands upon thousands of years ago. They include
all of the fantastical creatures you’ve ever read about, heard about, that you
were told growing up were merely fairytales and make believe.”

He held my face
in his hands, stared into my eyes causing my stomach to flip. His eyes were
burning with a fire I’d never seen in them.