Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins (21 page)

The water splashed as she dropped a plate
back into the bucket. “Well, I will talk to him and find out what
he is not telling us.”

“Why?” I protested

She pushed her auburn hair behind her and
scrubbed the dishes instead of looking me in the eye, “He is not
telling us all he knows . . . I can feel it.”

“Do not treat him as though he is the enemy!”
I growled.

She stood and peered down at me, using her
height against me, “Aislin there is so much at stake here. I like
Greer very much and I am happy for your engagement, but I will not
have my senses dulled and forget that you are in danger. Do not
forget that you are being hunted by this man and do not forget that
Zachariah and his family are going to create havoc once they learn
of your rejection . . . and that Martha and Becky have been
threatened as well,” she snapped.

I looked down as the weight of her words sunk
in. They pierced through the thin veil of my happiness and ripped
it to shreds. I was so caught up in my relationship with Greer,
that I had let all the problems that I faced fade deep into the
background. Nevertheless, they were still present and they were
inescapable.

“I will talk to Greer and find out all he
knows,” I said in a defeated voice.

“Go and start to dress Aislin. We will leave
for the print shop in half an hour's time.”

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

Jack sat slumped in a corner of the print
shop, his arms were crossed and he was staring guardedly at Greer.
The shop was large, and most of the bulk was designated to the
printing equipment and supplies needed to run my father’s business.
The main entrance was bright and cheery, with soft yellow paint and
there were many open windows to let in the sunlight. Across from
the front door was a long counter where my father could greet
clients. My mother was unloading the food she had brought onto this
counter and my father was behind it, in the back of the shop,
showing Greer how the copperplate printing press was used to print
currency.

I followed them around and found a pile of
unprinted news reports that I could read on my own. Most of the
news was rather uninteresting, although a few articles mentioned
the Governors Ball and on the very bottom of the stack was a note
in my father’s handwriting, mentioning something about the
disappearance of a slave. My mother called me to the front of the
shop to finish helping her prepare for lunch, and I left the stack
of papers where I had found them.

My mother was talking about the Governor’s
Ball as I helped her place a tablecloth on a little round table
that my father kept behind the shop’s counter. I wondered if I
would be able to attend it now that I was no longer attached to
Zachariah. Perhaps they would ban me. The idea seemed
delightful.

As we were eating our lunch, Greer talked of
his castle, servants, and land. My father seemed very interested in
Greer's upbringing and education, and wanted to know more about
astronomy.

Greer talked of the stars and the planets,
and I listened as though I was under a spell. I had never thought
of worlds other than the one I lived in—and of course the spirit
world. I knew of worlds within the one we live, but never had I
thought of places like our own existing in the heavens. I was
mesmerized by his words and wanted to hear more of the planet Mars,
but our conversation was cruelly interrupted by a deplorable
sight—Zachariah and his father had entered the shop.

My father stood nervously and brushed the
crumbs off his pants and coat. “Hello William, Zachariah,” he
nodded to each cordially.

I watched as Jack tried to disappear behind a
stack of printing paper, his coloration was so paled that he
practically blended in with the parchment.

Mr. Marthaler sneered at my father and looked
passed him, “Who are you?” he asked, while staring at Greer.

“I am Aislin's fiancé,” Greer smiled, while
moving in front of me and behind my father.

“What are you talking about?” Zachariah
demanded, while slamming his good hand down on the counter.

My father was breathing rather shallowly and
his face had turned quite pale. “I am sorry Zachariah, but word of
your recent conduct has gotten back to me and it cannot be
ignored.”

“What conduct are you speaking of Gerald?”
Mr. Marthaler demanded.

“Zachariah's blatant affinity for tavern
whores,” Greer flatly interjected.

My father closed his eyes and tried to steady
himself while Mr. Marthaler practically spat at Greer.

“If you choose to believe this man, who
obviously has tainted your minds to gain the hand of your daughter,
than you are a bigger fool than I ever conceived possible Gerald,”
he snarled.

“I did not hear of such accounts from this
gentleman. I was told of your son's behavior by numerous
townspeople who viewed witness to his deeds,” my father
replied.

“Produce names. I demand you to name those
who accuse me!” screamed Zachariah. He was puffing his chest out,
all the while glaring at Greer, but slightly hiding behind his
father.

“Ask your daughter about it then,” my father
told Mr. Marthaler.

The Marthalers stood fuming at my father's
retort.

“You dare break our agreement on mere rumors
of my son's misconduct?”

My father nodded his head abruptly and Greer
placed his hand supportively on his shoulder.

Mr. Marthaler smiled wickedly before he
turned to the door, “Then I will destroy you,” he hissed as he let
the door slam shut behind him, leaving Zachariah to scramble after
him.

On the way out the door Zachariah stopped,
his gaze was cast downward. We followed it until all our eyes
landed on a gold ring that was on the shop floor. I heard a little
gasp come from behind the stack of paper and realized what it
was.

Zachariah bent down and picked it up. “What
is Abigail's ring doing here?” he asked me.

I instantly knew how it had gotten here. I
saw the scene play out in my mind. She had carelessly dropped it
during her time spent with Jack.

“I borrowed it,” I lied.

“And you found it fitting to drop my sister's
fine jewelry on the ground? What kind of friend are you? You are
not fit to wear the jewelry of a lady, you worthless . . . ” His
words were interrupted by a snarling Greer.

“Do not speak to her that way,” Greer growled
at the boy.

Zachariah put the ring in his pocket and
swiftly left the shop. My father turned to me,

“Why did you have her ring?” he asked.

I looked over and saw Jack's eyes go wide,
“She gave it to me as a present. It did not fit and must have
fallen off my finger.”

My father seemed to accept my answer and that
was the end of the conversation. Greer helped my still shaking
father into a chair and brought him some water, while my mother
rubbed his hand.

“I want you to keep Aislin's dowry,” Greer
said.

My father looked up with a confused
expression, “But it is customary . . . ”

“In return, I will double the dowry you would
have provided for our wedding,” he insisted.

“How is that better than buying her from us?”
my mother snapped in anger.

Greer shook his head, “You misunderstand me.
I want Aislin to know that when we leave, you are both provided for
and safe. I do not want her worrying about her parents who live
across the ocean. This will give her peace of mind and I want her
to have that,” he said gently.

His words jolted me. I had not thought that
we might be leaving Burlington. Obviously, I had dreamed of running
away with him, but I had never truly considered being away from my
home, or my family. I was surprised by his intentions and yet,
somewhere deep down, I must have known this would happen.
Why
else would he have brought me back to his ancestral castle in
spirit?
I knew that I belonged in that home and more
importantly, I belonged with Greer.

“It would make me very happy,” I
insisted.

My father looked at me with a withdrawn
expression, “If you do not feel that you need your dowry, than I
will keep it for you,” he said proudly.

“Thank you Father.”

My father went back to work, and my mother
cleaned up after all of us. I turned around to find that Greer was
no longer by my side. He was over in the corner talking to Jack,
“Do not be threatened by me. I am not interested in taking your job
from you.”

Jack was flustered by Greer's words and acted
as though he was incredibly busy hiding behind the paper stack.
“Thank Aislin for me,” he murmured under his breath.

I walked over to Jack and pinched the skin
underneath his elbow, “You better tell your lady friend to be more
careful. She'll end up flogged, and you hanged if her father finds
out about you two,” I hissed.

Jack blushed profusely and wiggled out of my
grip. I had not realized that Greer and I had backed the poor thing
flat against his beloved paper, and he was puffing like a fish out
of water.

“You will stop meeting Abigail here and you
will stop your tryst,” Greer said.

Watching Greer speak to Jack was odd. There
was something unnatural in their conversation. It seemed that Greer
had placed Jack into some kind of trance. His eyes were glazed over
and his jaw hung slack.

“Yes, I will stop the tryst with Abigail and
I will never meet her at this shop again,” the boy repeated
back.

I looked quizzically at Greer, but he ignored
my stare, “You will ignore Abigail from now on. Oh and one more
thing, you will stop drinking and start working while you are under
Mr. Collin's apprenticeship. You will take your job seriously and
stop taking advantage of your employer,” he continued. For every
statement, the boy repeated his compliance.

The evidence was paramount—I was not the only
one between us who knew magic.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Since Greer had moved into town, things
seemed less ominous. Perhaps it was foolishness, but I felt as
though he was constantly protecting me and I felt a sense of
comfort knowing that he was close by. I spent my spare moments
dreaming of our marriage, of living in his family home and spending
the afternoon's horseback riding through the fog-covered
countryside that I had glimpsed in my vision.

I had not heard a word from the Marthalers
since our last encounter at my father's shop, and hoped that my
dealings with the family were finished. Although I wondered how
Abigail was. I missed her, and I hoped that she was not too
heartbroken by Jack's rejection of her. It was the only way to
protect her.

My mother knocked on my bedroom door, “Greer
has stopped by. We are going to talk. Would you please join
us?”

I sprung from my bed and tossed my needlework
aside. My mother gave me a scathing look when she saw how little I
cared for my artwork. Yet, even her disapproving expressions could
not thwart my excitement at seeing Greer.

I ran down the stairs and straight into his
waiting embrace. He kissed me before my mother even made it to the
top of the staircase and I wished she would stay away, but she did
not. I soon found myself seated a proper distance away from
him.

“I need to know about the man who is hunting
Aislin,” my mother said forcefully.

Greer glanced at me and reached for my hand,
“I will tell you all I know, but I fear it is not much.”

My mother did not like his response and shook
her head angrily. “How is it that you have been following this man
and haven't any knowledge of him?” she prodded harshly.

Greer crinkled his brow and brushed his hair
back from his eyes, as he took a short breath. “He is very powerful
and I have only been able to observe him from afar.”

“What do you mean
powerful?”

“I mean that he can disappear like smoke. He
has the ability to cause great pain without ever touching his
victims, and if that was not bad enough, he is always accompanied
by a being that can do any bidding Lamont does not deem fit for
himself. It has taken great feats on my part not to be detected by
his creature . . . or him.”

“How have you managed that, to go
undetected?” she continued her interrogation even after I had
kicked her from under the table.

Greer seemed to understand her reasoning and
did not appear bothered or insulted by her questions. “I have kept
a very far distance. Until now that is. I believe that he is a very
powerful sorcerer and that he gains years in his life for every
witch he kills. It is as though he feeds off of their power.”

My mother shifted uncomfortably in her seat,
“What makes you think this?” she asked nervously.

“It is just that he is very old and yet does
not seem to age. Also, he only hunts witches and it seems to be
that the more powerful the witch he kills, the longer time he waits
to murder the next.”

“When was the last time he killed,” she asked
anxiously.

“About eight months ago . . . before he left
for the New World,” Greer said in disgust. All the while he held my
hand in his, tracing circles on it with his thumb, as though to
calm us both.

“And you did nothing to stop him?”

Greer looked up at her with an expression of
sheer repulsion and his hand froze atop mine. “He is very powerful
and very deceptive. He was hired by a town outside of London to rid
it of witches. It was a public execution. He had the local men
gather the girls up. Between the men, a town full of witnesses, and
his pet demon . . . there was nothing I could do.”

“If you could not even protect a bunch of
girls from local townsmen how do you plan to protect Aislin from a
wizard and a demon?” she demanded.

Greer's eyes were growing darker, his temper
was starting to gain hold of him, “I will lay down my very life for
Aislin, and I have done everything I can to prove that.”