The Dark Gifts Birthright (30 page)

The old man took out his notebook and leafed
through the pages. “Nope, not this one. Not this one either. Hmmm,
where did I put that consarned thing?” He stopped in the middle of
the notebook pointing to the page. “Ah there is it. Sit down, boy!
I’ll get a crook in my neck ifin I have to look up at ya. What we
got here son, is an old fashioned, oh shitter. Ya’ll got busy doing
what ya’ll been doing up there, and didn’t take no time to think
about things like time lines and destiny, and ya’ll got us in a
real pickle now.”

The old man kept looking at his notebook as
he spoke, waiting for Michael to take a seat. “Ya see right here on
this page? That’s the alignment of the stars, and this here
‘quation? That’s the way things might be if …right here this one?
Sit down!” Looking up at Michael, he sternly said, “I’ll not tell
ya again, son. Ifin ya wants my help, then ye’ll kindly sit down
so’s we can chat proper like.”

Michael hesitated, still thinking the old man
must be crazy.

Brogan looked at the sky and almost
whispered, “Ya ain’t got much time, son, daylight is coming and
I’ll not be goin up in that place with all the rest of them
blood-suckers.”

Michael sat down quickly then. The man might
be nuts, but he knew something, and it was Michael’s duty to find
out what.

“Now that’s better, aint it? Okay, as I was
sayin-- scoot over here so’s you can see now-- this here ‘quation
that’s the one that’s the trouble. See here, that’s not supposed to
be there, and it weren’t there, till ya’ll up and done what ya done
up there with the time line.” The old man shook his head and made a
ticking noise with his mouth.

Michael ventured to ask him a question, “If I
may sir, would you mind telling me how you came to know about us,
and who you are?”

“I done told ya my name boy, but I’ll tell ya
again ifin your deef. My name is Brogan, and I’m trying to tell ya
that these here ‘quations of mine is what told me something’s wrong
with the whole world now, thanks to you and them folks up there.
Now I knows that ya’ll aint like them others, and I knows that
ya’ll means well, but that don’t change nuttin. What’s done is
done, and now we got to fix it. Ya’ll just can’t go changing time
lines and think that nothings gonna happen, and that young girl up
there weren’t meant to be no vampire queen. That girl were meant
for something far bigger than that!”

“You’re speaking of Jenna then?” Michael
asked rubbing his hands nervously on his knees. He didn’t know
whether to sit there and listen, or get up and walk away.

“Don’t know what her name is, son, but her
and that other gal’s time lines got messed up a few years back when
one of your folks, one of the bad un’s that is, put his nose into
business what aint his.” Brogan leaned in to take a good look at
Michaels face. He watched him closely as he said, “Look here, ya’ll
got to go back and fix what ya did. It weren’t the savin of the
child and the man that did it. It were something else. Now I’m
still trying to figure out what they all did back there, but it’s
got to be set right, cause ifin ya’ll don’t fix it…the whole world
is goin to hell in a hand basket.”

Chapter Twenty

The Star Child

The Council searched for Cass. She was
supposed to be at her cabin, but no one had been able to find her.
Her scent had grown cold. They needed to inform her of the new
information Brogan had given Michael during the night, but no one
knew where to look for her. Minerva left the Council meeting to
speak with the man while the others tried to figure out where Cass
had gone.

If the old codger was not completely crazy,
they had big trouble on their hands. According to Brogan, he was
the last surviving Druid and nearly three hundred years old. The
Druid Council, when it was still whole, had spent thousands of
years watching and reading the stars.

Although Druids had use of their own
particular kind of magic, what they did was more science than
science fiction. They used the alignments of planets, and
placements of comets to foretell upcoming events. Things had been
off for nearly twenty years, and Brogan had been watching closely.
Set to contact them, and let them know what was coming when they
were encamped at the old farmhouse, he had missed them by two
days.

Jenna seemed a constant source of trouble for
the Council. Her voices wanting them to leave brought back the same
old questions. Where did the voices come from? Why wouldn't they
want the vampires in contact with Brogan? Why hadn’t the voices
been talking to Jenna since their arrival at the Citadel?

There were answers needed about Brogan and
the things Michael saw in the fire. The prophesied “vampire queen”
could not have been Jenna, because she was only four, and the
person that had been predestined to be the “queen” should be in her
twenties. They needed to find out more about the rebel army. If it
were as vast as Michael saw in the vision, they would need to
recruit more for their own. Messengers went back and forth from the
Council chambers, while the leaders worked on finding answers to
their questions.

***

Minerva could hardly contain herself when she
heard the old man below was a druid. As far as she was concerned,
anything the Council tried to do that day would be pointless
without more information from the man. When she was a small child,
she had heard that the last of the druids had died. She was in a
hurry to get down to him and find out what he knew.

“Well hello there, little missy.” Brogan said
with a big toothless grin. He threw his arms out wide. “Welcome to
my humble abode.”

Minerva, feeling a bit like a schoolgirl,
giggled and looked down. “I’m so very honored to meet you.”

“Aww shucks, woman. Don’t be like that. Come
on in here and have ya a seat.” Brogan bowed slightly and offered
Minerva his stump. “I thought ya might be here sooner, seein as
you’re the leader of the witches.”

“How did you know that?” She asked as she
primly sat on the edge of the large stump.

Brogan smiled, winked, and tapped his temple
with his index finger. “May I?” He asked before sitting beside
her.

“Of course.”

Grey notebook in hand, he began explaining
what brought him to find them. Brogan talked about druid magic, and
had many questions about Minerva’s craft. They talked about the
constellations, certain stars, and the significance of each. She
invited him up to the castle several times during their
conversation, but he refused.

He still didn’t know what changed the time
line, and he still couldn’t tell her where the renegade army was
located. He did promise to do another incantation that night to
find out more if possible. The problem, he told her, was that fire
prophecy showed the people looking what concerned them. So the more
people to look into it, the more it showed. Minerva arranged for
the entire Council to be there an hour after sundown, to watch the
shapes in the fire.

“I don’t understand, Brogan,” Minerva said,
“If you won’t go up there because of what they are, then why are
you helping them at all?”

“Dearie, I’ve lived these many long years
‘cause I’ve kept my hide outta trouble. Should I decide that life
ain’t worth livin no more, then I’ll run right on up there with
ya’ll, and hang out with them vamps.”

“They may need blood to survive Brogan, but
they are good people, noble people. I’ve lived with them for months
now, most of us have, and we’ve had no trouble whatsoever. In fact,
I’m pleased to call several of them friends.” Her voice was high
and tight. She was irritated with his racist--no speciest--view of
her new family.

“Little lady, I’ll tell ye one thing, ain’t
all up there as supposed to be. Ain’t all of them good and noble
people. Has it not bothered ya’ll that those against ya seems to
know just exactly what you're about?” Brogan shook his head, he was
dumbfounded that these folks could be so bright, learn so much, and
still be stupid. He looked over his shoulders, craning his neck
around to search the forest behind him, then cocked his head to the
side. He listened for a moment then leaned in and whispered, “Them
that wants to do you in, they knows where ya’ll live. They knows
exactly how to get in. When the time comes, thanks to some inside,
they’s gonna show right up here, and take out every one of you they
can. And when they do, that young’in up there’ll be their queen.
Now that’s a fact. Stars don’t lie, they tell it straight, whatever
it be. And you mark my sayin’, that young’in up there weren’t meant
for that, she was meant to do something else.”

“Then who is meant to be queen?”

Brogan grimaced and shrugged.

“Apparently your stars don’t tell all, just
enough to cause trouble and raise suspicions.” Minerva said as she
stood to leave.

“Might be they don’t, but they tells me
enough.”

Minerva headed back towards the castle.
Brogan chuckled and shook his head as he watched her stomp
away.

***

When Minerva returned to the Council
chambers, she told of her meeting with Brogan. Everyone was
appalled that there could still be a traitor, let alone many, among
them. They had been certain that no one there could have been a
spy. William and his ghostly network of detectives were summoned
and advised to re-evaluate each occupant of the Citadel until they
found the traitor or traitors among them. Level-by-level, the
supernatural infiltrators hunted. Not one vampire or witch was
overlooked.

They decided that Gregorio, Athena, Michael,
Liz, Minerva, Callista, and Angie with Jenna would meet with Brogan
that evening. Athena didn’t want little Jenna involved, but
Gregorio felt she needed to be there.

At sundown, the Council met with William and
the other ghosts. Once again, William assured them no traitor lived
among them. Vampires and witches alike were clear of any darkness
or taint to their spirits. They started to wonder again just what
was in this for Brogan and if he was an honest man, or just
crazy.

An hour after sundown, they met just outside
Brogan’s camp. Michael and Minerva entered first. Impatient, the
old man motioned for them to bring the others and be quick about
it. He chanted in his singsong language while walking around the
fire. As the others entered the camp, he gave them little notice.
He walked, motioned for them to be seated, and continued with his
preparations. As the flames grew higher and brighter, he motioned
for them to come closer, saying, “Now we shall see what we shall
see, boys and girls.” His head tilted back as a maniacal chortle
escaped his throat.

The emissaries from the Citadel had
surrounded the fire, when the crazy old coot noticed Jenna standing
beside Angie. He let out a howl and started jumping up and down
like his feet were on fire.

Jenna quickly slid behind Angie. Her tiny
arms clung to her guardian’s legs. “Please take me home. Please!”
She pleaded.

“Brogan, calm down. You’re scaring the
child.” Gregorio bellowed

“You get that dark child outta my camp right
now. Oweeeeeee. I cain’t believe it. You crazy blasted people.
There ain’t nary a one of yuns with a brain!” Brogan wailed still
jumping up and down.

“
Angie, take Jenna home now.”
Athena
said.

Angie pulled Jenna up into her arms, hissed
loudly, and disappeared into the forest.

Once Jenna had left the circle, Brogan’s
insane rampage began to ease. He was still pacing, cussing up a
storm, and making no sense, but at least the howling had
stopped.

“Wasted I tell ya. Wasted. All that hard
work, all day long, down the drain like it weren’t nothing. Of all
the confounded, pigheaded, numb minded…..suffering catfish! Who’d a
thought….You people.” He went on like that for at least two
minutes, until he finally wound down and ran out of steam. He sat
down on his stump, pulled out an old red handkerchief, and began to
wipe the sweat that poured down his face. All the while shaking his
head and muttering to himself.

It was obvious Brogan was furious, but not a
soul there could understand why. It seemed like it was Jenna that
brought on the fit, but why would such a dear, sweet youngster,
bring about that kind of reaction in the old man? After Brogan
regained his composure, he stared into the fire and refused to
talk.

Gregorio cleared his throat, trying to get
Brogan’s attention. It did him no good, the man was not about to
speak.

Finally, Michael spoke to the man. He was
sick of this lunatic and the games he was playing. “Have you lost
your mind? What in the world would have possessed you to act that
way in front of a small child? That little girl is family to all of
us, and you nearly scared her to death.”

There was nothing but silence from the old
man, so Michael went on, every word pin-pointed with anger, “I’m
waiting for an answer. What do you have to say for yourself? Give
me one good reason why I shouldn’t rip your old throat out right
now, and leave you for dead?”

The old man shook his head and laughed at
that, then stood, looked Michael in the eye, and with a cold fury
said, “Your assuming,
boy
, that I would
let
ya take
my life. Ifin you
could
, then could be I’d be skeered. But
since ya
cain’t
, I think I’ll be waiting a bit for the worry
to start botherin me.” He spat on the ground and sat back down.
Looking over the shocked group, he shook his head and started to
chuckle, “Well ifin that don’t beat all. Ya’ll are older than dirt,
well most of yun is, and ya ain’t got no more sense than an ole cow
led to the slaughterhouse.”

“Are we wasting our time, or do you have
something relevant to tell us?” Gregorio asked.