Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins (5 page)

“Aye, that I did,” she placed the book down
again and seated herself in the closest chair. She rested her head
in her hands and looked down. “Aislin, did you read the title of
that spell before you cast it?”

“No… well, I… I saw that it said protection
and I knew the book opened to it, so I trusted it.”

“Look at the title Aislin.”

I walked over to the book and stared down at
the ancient page. I read its deep green lettering written in an
elegant script.
The words swept away any peace I
might have felt.

To Banish a Puca

I flipped through some pages until I came
across the description of the Puca and read on.

The creature is a shape shifter, a demon,
faithful only to the human of its choosing. It is deadly to those
it is sent after. All of its forms are unknown, but it is said to
commonly take the shape of a horse with red eyes, a black goat, or
sometimes appear invisible. It is believed that its actual form
includes standing on two legs, having talons like an eagle, eyes as
red as searing coals and skin the color of palest grey.

My mind raced as I closed the book. I turned
to find my mother deep in thought. She was biting at her thumbnail
and rocking back and forth.

“Did I destroy it with the spell?” I asked
frantically.

“No, these things cannot be destroyed… you
merely repelled it.”

She never looked up at me. I wondered if
casting this spell had been a mistake—
maybe it would have gone
away on its own
.

“Did I make things worse?”

Her blue eyes pierced into mine, somehow
calming me, “No, you did exactly the right thing. We will have to
do more though.”

“It is not common for the Puca to attack in
the day,” she said. “When did you first hear it?”

I thought back to where I was sitting and
what I was thinking about—then I remembered. “I was sitting outside
embroidering the holly and ivy for my dress. I pricked my finger
and was bleeding when Sneachta started growling.”

My mother looked over at the white cat who
stared back at her, “Thank you,” she said to the cat, which meowed
in reply. “The Puca must have been driven by the smell of your
blood and so it attacked. My guess is that its master wanted it to
watch you until it could carry you off to him. Pucas often kidnap
their victims and ride them off into the faerie realm.”

“What are we to do?”

My mother shook her head, “I have never
dealt with things such as this. We need help.”

“Is there anyone who can help us?”

“Perhaps.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Day Break

I washed my face with cool water that sat in
a basin on my nightstand. Downstairs I could hear the sound of my
mother talking to someone, although I did not know who it was.

I had been trapped in the house ever since
the ordeal with the unknown creature. That was five days ago now. I
rushed quickly to meet whomever my mother was talking to, simply
for the experience of seeing another face and hearing a new voice.
As I entered the kitchen, my mother waved me over. She was sitting
at the table next to Martha, my mother’s very dear friend and the
closest person to a Grandmother I ever had. I walked into the room
and sat down across from them.

“Good morning,” I said, as I waved at
Martha. I would have smiled but I was too tired. I had not slept in
days. The fear that the creature would return for me was too great.
Even Sneachta did not linger outside for long. Most of the time she
stayed within eye contact of the house and when she was inside, she
was always next to me.

Martha smiled warmly “Hello, dear child. I
hear that you have been having some problems lately.”

She reached across the table to hold my
hands. She flipped them over and studied my palms. “Well, you have
a long life line, so that is a good sign,” she said. As Martha
studied my palms, I in turn studied her face. She was tired but she
had a joy about her. Her soft features and heart-shaped face
reflected the kindness of her very soul. Her ebony skin was smooth,
and the only hint of Martha’s age came from the silver strands that
were woven through her raven colored hair.

“You tell me your tale… from your words,”
she said. Her Caribbean accent added a dramatic effect when she
spoke. Her rich auburn eyes blazed in the morning light, as she
listened to my every word.

I reached over and poured Martha more tea,
her cup was almost empty. Then I filled my mother’s and then I
poured mine. Martha was like a grandmother to me. She had always
been in my life, but she still seemed surprised when I would serve
her the same way I served my mother. I saw no reason to treat
Martha differently. I loved her.

I told Martha all of my account. Describing
every detail that I could remember and she listened quietly, never
speaking until I had finished.

“It was an Abiku, an evil spirit,” she said
with a solemn expression on her face. “You must be very powerful to
have banished it away from you.”

“Did mother show you the description in our
book?” I asked through a yawn.

Although I was told to never talk of the
book with anyone, Martha was the exception. She knew all our
secrets.

“I showed the page to Martha before you
awoke,” my mother nodded.

“I will bring you a blessed bell to keep on
you. My traditions tell of it fleeing once the bell is wrung,”
Martha interjected.

“Will I ever be able to go outside again?” I
asked with a pleading tone to my voice.

My mother and Martha both laughed together.
Martha patted my hand. Her touch soothed my racing mind. “Yes dear
girl, you will leave the house again. Your mama and I have been
casting spells while you slept and we have sewed talisman into
every item of your clothing. But I must say, that necklace you are
wearing has a very powerful protection charm attached to it.”

I reached up and touched the necklace,
surprised by her words. “I did not charm it.”

Martha smiled, “No, but the person who gave
it to you feels protective of you. I dare say that his desire to
protect you has caused the charm. You will learn in time that love
is the most powerful magic we have.” She stood slowly, as one who
was worn down would.

I gave her a strong hug and Martha kissed my
cheek, “You are as dear to me as my own grandchildren are. I will
do all I can to help you.”

She and my mother then left me alone in the
kitchen. I started cleaning off the table, my mind drifted to my
mother and of how she and Martha became friends.

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

I was fourteen years old, just weeks passed
my Awakening, and was helping my mother dress for a Ball. Her
shoulders were bare and when I pulled her hair off her neck, I
noticed a long thread-like scar that went down my mothers back. I
started to trace it with my hand but she jerked away
instinctually.

“What is that Mother?” I asked
innocently.

My mother grimaced at my question but did
not back down from it. “I will tell you, but it must remain between
us. Can you do that Aislin?”

“Yes,” I said wide eyed, for this was the
second secret my mother had ever asked me to keep. After she looked
quizzically into my eyes, she began:

“When I was thirteen years old I lived on
the Isle with my family; my four brothers, my mother and my father.
We had a simple life. We tilled the land and farmed. It was
laboring work but we loved each other and were happy. I was growing
in my spiritual gifts. I was considered a young priestess and was
in training. It was secret of course. We were otherwise considered
Catholic, but we also kept to the ancient ways and saw a marriage
between the two beliefs.

“Then one night as I was scrying, I had a
horrible vision. I saw men coming with torches and weapons. I saw
them taking me from our cottage and burning it to the ground. I
told my parents of my vision and begged them to leave the village,
to hide us, but we were poor and had nowhere to go. So, I kept the
book roped onto my waist and I dressed in as many layers of
clothing as I could. If they were to come, I did not want to freeze
on the back of a wagon—although I pleaded to the Holy Mother that
they would not come at all.

“A few nights later they arrived in our
village. I knew the British were amongst us far before they entered
our home. I could hear children crying in my mind. I could hear
their parents screaming, men dying, and women pleading… but they
were merciless. They despised us and treated us as such.

“I lay in my bed, waiting, not wanting them
to know that I was ready for them lest they search my clothing and
find the book. The book made itself so small that it was almost
flush with my skin, often I would touch my hand to my side to check
that it was still there. Six men broke into the cottage and killed
my father right away. They then beat my brothers until they could
not move and bound my mother. I thought of trying to escape, but I
knew it was a useless endeavor. If they did not catch me now, they
would just do it later, and punishment for running would be harsh.
I waited until they saw me. They grabbed me ruthlessly. They
handled me in ways that they had no right to and then they threw
me, and my remaining family onto a cart with the rest of those that
were still alive.

“We rode through the night. No food offered,
no water provided. They raided town after town until finally we
reached the shore. There we were tied to one another and driven
like cattle onto a ship. They made sure to split us up. No families
were permitted to be together. That would have shown a sense of
humanity and these men, these
slavers
, had none.

“From that point, I never saw my family
again. I was moved to another ship where I was placed with other
Irish slaves in the bowels of the vessel. It was dark and cold.
People moaned… many were ill and all were terrified. We were
provided no place to relieve ourselves and the prison in which we
were kept was so foul that any movement of air made the inhabitants
retch from the stench. We were packed tightly together. Some did
not even have a place to sit, so we leaned on each other. Some took
out their fear and anger on those around them, some simply wept,
others prayed.

“Weeks later, we were pushed off the boat.
Many did not survive the journey and their bodies were simply
tossed over the side of the ship without reservation. We were in
Barbados, a major center for slave traders. We were then placed
with other slaves in a large holding area. These people were unlike
anything we had ever seen before. Their skin was dark and their
language unusual. We were all crammed together and we soon learned
that to help one another was to survive. That is where I met
Martha. She was like a mother to me. She sensed the magic within me
and brought me close to her so she could protect me from the many
dangers that were ever-present.

“Martha spoke little English, but I taught
her as best I could, although I was much better at speaking in
Irish. We shared our magic and healed as many as we could, but we
had no supplies and could not leave the dark cell in which we were
held.

“I kept my head down and did my best to
never be seen by the guards or slave traders. I did not want to
suffer the fate of being sold to a brothel or be raped by the
drunken devils who prowled outside our cells. Many times the guards
would become bored and find great pleasure in whipping, beating and
spitting upon us. Martha and I did invisibility charms to make our
presence almost unnoticed and we continued to help as many as we
could.

“Finally the charm wore and guards burst
into the cell, pulling me and many young women out by our hair.
Martha reached for me but was struck in the face and fell back. I
thought I would never see her again and cried as they dragged me
out of the underground pit and into the blinding sunlight.

“The fresh air made me realize how badly I
smelled… how badly we all smelled. I breathed it in deeply as we
were pushed and shoved and cursed at. The fresh air was not to
last. We were herded up a ship ramp and once again plunged into the
darkness of the bowels of the vessel. The slave driver hissed at me
as he locked the cage we were crammed into and told us that we were
heading to the Colonies to be sold. He ridiculed us and filled our
minds with horrible notions of what was to come.

“I spent many days and nights filled with
terror until I finally remembered Martha’s words, ‘Look to the
magic, it will guide you.’ I searched the ship’s floor until I
found a small puddle of seawater. I stared into it with great focus
and I saw a vision of my future. I saw you Aislin and your father…
I saw hope and it sustained me.

“When the journey finally ended, we where
once again viscously treated and pulled out of our cage… dragged
into the painful sunlight, onto the port and then placed in a line
where people gathered around. The ship’s captain started taking
bids and selling off the girls. People were pointing, picking and
choosing as they would for fabric or tea.

“As I walked close to the platform, behind
the line of the other girls I cast my gaze up to where a bidding
war was underway. On the stage was the slave trader, holding a
woman by the arm while wealthy patrons haggled over her. When the
trader moved forward to take the patrons money I saw the slave… it
was Martha. We had been on the same ship the whole time and I knew
deep in my heart that I would see her again.

“I kept my gaze down but then I felt a hand
grab my arm harshly and thrust me to the ground. The slave trader
pulled at my hair, opened my mouth, looked at my teeth, and
surveyed me. Then he announced a price and the interested party
agreed willingly. I was sold.