The Gazing Globe (10 page)

Blain wanted to go afterAfton, to tell her that Rhiannon hadn't even entered his mind. But that was a he.

He had been comparing them almost from the moment he set eyes onAfton. What kind of man did such a thing? He knew it was wrong, but he kept doing it anyway.Aftonprobably thought he was the worst kind of bastard for craving two women at the same time. Despite any woman's opinion, some men would see that as a very desirable position. Blain didn't. His confusion about his behavior left a bitter taste in his mouth. It made him feel like he was using people

He ran a hand through his hair and watchedAftonwalk away with the animals, realizing that he'd never wanted anyone so badly. His relationship with Rhiannon didn't even come close to what he was feeling forAfton. His desire for her wasn't just based on sex. It was something deeper. There was such a connection between them. It was as if the Fates were pushing them together, finding things they both loved and emphasizing those similarities.

But Blain remembered there were things aboutAftonthat weren't normal, and the abnormalities weren't anything he could sensibly articulate. He was sure she was keeping secrets, and for some unknown reason, that scared the hell out of him.

And with the fear came that strange, bloodcurdling feeling about the future. Every single time he got close to feeling all right emotionally, that dark premonition raised it's head. And it came back now with a vengeance. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he felt rage over his helplessness. In frustration, he walked to a fence and drove his fist into the top rail, snapping it in two. What the hell was wrong with him? Why, when he reached out for a small measure of true happiness, did this awful presentiment of impending darkness reappear? Instead of finding a way to go afterAftonand work things out with her, his escalating fear made him suspect her of something nefarious. It was almost as if someone was conjuring a way to keep him unhappy and off balance.

He backed away from the fence and silently cursed. Whatever this feeling was, it was constantly coming between him and all he wanted. But like a terrible omen, he knew that whatever was frightening him was closer than ever. It was taking on an actual life and a presence. It was becoming as real as the rail he had just broken. And he believed this dark entity wanted more than just his life. It craved the last bit of his sanity. What was it, and why wouldn't it leave him alone? And how could he stop it?

Five

Blain threw hay into the mare's stall and kept his mind on that one task. There were plenty of chores that always kept him busy. But they became lifelines now. Each of them kept him from thinking about his desire for Afton, his guilt over Rhiannon, and the blackness in the future If his body wasn't failing any longer, his mind surely was The chores became a way of keeping his sanity. They were endless physical preoccupations that kept his brain functioning in a productive way And though more work than ever was getting done, his emotional state was becoming more precarious Something was wrong, but it wasn't His visitors were up to something, but they weren't. Nothing was right, but everything seemed fine. It was like living in a dream or a nightmare, depending upon what was happening at any given moment. By focusing on one chore at a time, he thought and felt nothing more than what was necessary to finish the job at hand. But it was tearing up his nerves.

"Ah, lad, here you are," Hugh said.

Blain jumped and quickly turned when he heard his uncle's voice. Forcing himself to calm down, he set his pitch fork aside and picked up a curry comb to groom his mare "What's up''"

"I wanted to ask a great favor of you." When Blain paused in his work to look up, Hugh continued, "I thought it might be a nice gesture if we were to invite some of the townsfolk over to the farm this Friday evening This is Afton's first visit to the States, and I thought she and Shayla would like to meet some of your neighbors before they go back to England. You could use the diversion yourself, and there's always Ms. Stone to think of. You haven't seen much of her lately and…"

"All right, all right, Hugh. You're looking for an excuse to have a party. Go ahead I'm afraid I won't have time to help you plan much, but it sounds like a good idea. And this is your home, too, you know.

You don't have to ask for permission to entertain." Blain smiled and was gratified to see his uncle's answering grin.

"Thank you, lad. I'll take care of everything. You won't have to lift a finger. It'll be something you'll never forget. I guarantee it."

Blain watched Hugh walk away. Maybe bringing Rhiannon to the farm and letting her seeAftonwasn't a good idea. He'd thought that given a little time his feelings forAftonmight change, but they'd only grown stronger. He'd stayed away from her knowing she would go back toEnglandsoon and be out of his life forever. Still, he found himself wanting her more every time he saw her. The only time he could forget the constant feeling of doom was when she was near. And when he didn't think about whatever secrets she harbored.

When his mare gently nudged him, Blain went back to work. He still wanted to make amends to Rhiannon for his behavior, but he also wantedAftonto stay in his life. She had him absolutely beguiled.

But Hugh had just reminded him that she would leave soon. He couldn't go to her and express his feelings. Even if it was possible to work out a way to be together, he was afraid of the future and whatever horrible darkness lurked there. He could be slowly going insane, imagining horrors where none existed. He could be delusional. He couldn't ask anyone to share a life with a man whose mind was being torn apart. Some demon kept eating away at his rationality, and he didn't know how to articulate what was wrong, let along how to stop it.

***

Later that evening, Blain took his flute into the garden and began playing again. Since the garden had been redesigned, it was his favorite place to rest. The gazing globe's reflective surface calmed him. But when he looked at his own image in the orb, all he could see was a blur. No matter how he changed positions or how good the light. Something was there but it wasn't distinguishable. And that reflection compounded his fears about what was coming. The former urge to run nude in the night air seemed to be satisfied by sitting near the globe, however, so perhaps it could help him hold onto his sanity. For what else could be wrong with a man who had suffered so many physical ailments no doctor could diagnose?

The cool evening breeze blew as he played. He poured his heart into every note, just as his mother had taught him. He wished his parents were alive, and that they'd told him about Hugh earlier in his life He wanted to know more about where they came from and why they never spoke of their home. Most of all, he wanted to end the terrible fear in his heart. If he had to pinpoint the exact time it had begun, he'd swear it was on the day Shayla Gallagher andAftonO'Malley arrived here. Life had been pretty ordinary up until then. Now, there was only the past to hold onto. The future was a threat he didn't want to think about. He stopped playing, listened to the night sounds, and stared at the orb. It glittered in the darkness.

"You play as beautifully as your mother did," Shayla said as she joined him. He moved over to let her sit on the stone bench beside him.

Although he'd been deep in thought, her presence hadn't come as a surprise. It was as if he sensed her before actually seeing her. Again, it was another indication that something that wasn't right with him.

"Hello, Shayla I thought everyone would be in bed by now."

"I was up helping Hugh with his party arrangements It's grand of you to have a get-together so we can meet your friends."

"You can thank Hugh. It was his idea. But I suppose I've neglected some of my social activities lately.

This will be a good opportunity to make amends for not keeping m touch." The way his brain was working lately, he believed he would dearly need friends one day. Instead of following that train of thought, he latched onto the safe and harmless subject of music. "You said I play the flute like my mother Tell me about where she came from and how you knew her and my father."

"Perhaps you should know part of the story. The time is near enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Blain responded impatiently. "What are you hiding from me? And why, when anyone mentions my parents, do I get the feeling I shouldn't ask? Please tell me what you know, Shayla. I have to understand." Blain straddled the bench to look at her.

She paused, as though gathering her thoughts. "Can you imagine a world where myth and legend meet and become reality? Are you open-minded enough to hear the truth, Blain?"

"Try me," he urged. His need to know overrode the mysterious undercurrent in her words.

She paused for several moments then asked, "Do you believe in magic?"

"I believe in what I can hold in my own two hands and see with my own two eyes. Where are you going with this?"

"There was a time, centuries ago, when people not only believed in magic, but they lived by its edicts.

Magic pervaded all things. Battles were fought to obtain it, and men lost their senses through its use.

Kingdoms fell while their kings searched for it. Can you imagine such a world?"

"In fairytales, sure. But what has that got to do with my parents?"

"Your parents were part of a world which still exists on its belief in magic. Because they loved one another, they were forced to leave that world.Afton, Hugh and I are part of that world as well. On the Summer Solstice, three days from now, you will be exposed to strange and wonderful powers."

Shayla is off her rocker, he thought, gaping at her. Would he soon be just as crazy, and did Hugh and Aftonreally believe in what Shayla was saying? Hopefully, they just humored the old woman to keep from upsetting her. Maybe that's whyAftonwas Shayla's assistant. Perhaps she'd been hired to look after Shayla. He decided to go along with Shayla's views to get to the bottom of how this strange, silver-haired woman knew his parents. Besides, how could he really judge her when his own mind was so obsessed about the future and his ominous feelings of what lay there?

"Okay. Suppose you tell me why my parents had to leave this, uh...world of magic." Blain tried to be tactful and sound as receptive to the idea as he could.

"Your father belonged to one faction of an Order of beings which exist on magic. Your mother belonged to another. In those days, the woman in charge of this Order—her name was Freyja—interpreted its laws strictly and wouldn't allow your parents to be together. So they left the Order and ran. Under Freyja's command, the Order searched for Syndra and Arthur. As soon as we had word of their whereabouts, your parents would disappear. We believed they used their combined powers to keep from being found. Finally, they ended up here. Hugh found you only because the powers your parents used to protect and hide you disappeared when your mother died."

Blain passed a hand over his face in a weary gesture. "So, my parents were hunted because they fell in love and had magical powers?"

"I wouldn't put it in such simplistic terms, but yes."

"All right, Shayla. What powers were they supposed to have?" This gibberish was making him more than a little angry, but he reminded himself that he was humoring an older woman with a great big problem. A problem he might be feeding into.

"Your mother was a fairy, and your father was a Druid. When you're ready to accept yourself and your heritage, you'll be able to look into and see who you really are instead of the ordinary man you believe yourself to be. You might be a fairy. They're made of light and love. All things good. They have extraordinary powers, as do Druids. But you may be more like your father—able to command the elements. Both your parents were very gifted, even among their own kind. As good as they were, that's how evil Freyja really was."

Shayla stopped and pointed to . "Freyja could never approach a garden where one of those exists. She would have seen herself for what she truly was—a psychotic, dangerous monster. I think she feared your parents' love because she was jealous of anything she couldn't have herself. And no one loved her Oh, she had those who sided with her only because she frightened or bribed them into doing her bidding. But she was far too malevolent to deserve real devotion. It may be that your parents' combined powers threatened hers, and that's why she was so adamantly opposed to their union."

Blain again gaped at her It took a couple of minutes to process what she'd said and form a coherent question, “And what would have happened to my parents if this woman...Freyja, had ever found them?"

"They would have been brought back to our ancient grounds inEuropeand put to death."

Okay, that’s it! Humoring her is over. Up until now, the story was whimsical, but harmless. When Shayla talked about killing someone, that's where the fantasy stopped.

"And where the hell is this person who wanted to kill my parents?" Blain knew his anger was obvious enough for even the densest creature to sense.

"She's dead. I've taken her place and that's enough for you to hear for now." She stood to leave, but she stopped and turned back to him.

"Aftonwanted you to have this." She took a small velvet pouch from her pocket and handed it to him.

"Its power will protect you from most common evil spells. Place it on your windowsill at night, and it will absorb the moon's powers. Then keep it with you during the daytime. And one more thing...the next time you think you're humoring a sick old woman will be the last time, Blain McTavish. Before your mother met Arthur, I loved him, but his path led him one way, mine another. If not for the different roads we took, you could very well have been my own son. Still, I will tolerate no disrespect for myself or the Order. Be very certain about that!"

Blain watched her stoically walk away. There was no doubt in his mind that Shayla Gallagher believed every word she was saying. A cold chill crept over him. As a young boy, his parents had told him to never answer questions about where they had last lived, and the three of them had moved often. To a lonely little boy, the traveling and the subterfuge was a bit frightening. His schooling came from his parents or correspondence courses, and most social events were avoided. He'd grown up accepting their secretive behavior as normal, and it wasn't until he was much older that he knew their lives were very different from other people's lives. That was when he began to ask his parents questions which were never answered.