An Ordinary Fairy (24 page)

My lucky number, and I hope, hers as well.

Last, Noah opened a parcel wrapped in red felt. Inside was his athame, the ceremonial knife used for directing natural energies. Its edges were dull but the blade was bright above the black handle.

All that remained was to bring Willow into the circle. Noah ran upstairs, rummaged until he found another blanket, and made a pad on the floor. He took a pillow from the easy chair for her head.

Moving Willow was more difficult than before. She was limp and unable to help. He pulled the sheet off, gently lifted her and laid her on the blankets.

Noah proceeded with a circle casting ritual. Kneeling, he first lit the tall center candles: the green to represent the Goddess, the red to signify the God. He lit the incense to correlate with the Spirit of Air and the small red candle to signify the Spirit of Fire. With the athame he blessed the water that stood for the Spirit of Water and the salt that represented the Spirit of Earth, chanting in a low voice.

He stood and walked in a circular path around the room with the athame pointed down as if drawing a circle on the floor, the invisible boundary that would form the barrier between his magic contained within the space and the wild energies outside. He walked the circle three times clockwise, chanting the casting rhyme as he walked.

“Blessed be!” he announced after completing the third circuit. Next, he lit the colored candles, again in clockwise fashion, and spoke the invitation to each spirit to attend his ritual. Last, standing before the tall God and Goddess candles, he asked the Lord and Lady to come as well and lend their power to him. The ghostly presence of the spirits’ energies swirled about him.

Noah now stood in a small “safety zone” as he likened it, where magic wouldn’t harm the worker or the world. One needed to respect the spirit energies.

Shadow watched Noah from his place by the sofa with a perplexed expression, his head tilted to one side in confusion. “It’s okay, boy. We’re going to help our fairy.” Noah patted his leg and Shadow came into the circle. After nuzzling Noah, the dog walked over to Willow, licked her face and lay beside her on the floor.

Noah flipped the purple spell book open to the correct page and looked over the words of the charm. Unlike Hollywood portrayals, magic didn’t involve a few odd words and a swoosh of a wand followed by a flash and a bang. Real magic was softer; often just rhyming phrases chanted or sung in the speaker’s native language, meant to channel thoughts and energies toward a target object or person. Noah owned a wand, but it was to help direct the user’s thoughts toward the object of the magic, not to blow things up.

Noah walked inside the circle’s outer margin, reading the words to the charm out loud. He completed nine clockwise circuits at increasing speed, a common method of summoning energy to power a spell. The most important power came from within: Noah visualized Willow healed and well. After the ninth orbit, he laid down the book and lit the black candle. As the tiny flame flickered and grew, Noah pictured the hot updraft sucking the evil from Willow’s body and sending it back from whence it came. When the candle burned itself out, Willow would be cleansed.

Last, Noah blessed Willow with healing and protective energy. He knelt beside her, took the acorns and laid them on the floor around her, creating a protective fence against evil. The wet ivy from the bowl he used like a scepter to sprinkle spring water all around her.

Nothing seemed to change. Magic took time.

Noah performed the backward disassembly of the sacred space, doing each step in reverse order and direction, snuffing candles, thanking spirits for their aid, and walking three times counterclockwise to open the circle. He picked Willow up, laid her on the sofa, and covered her with the sheet. He sat beside her for a moment and caressed her face. She was still hot and flushed, and didn’t respond to his touch. The small cauldron and its all-important black candle he moved to the table by the easy chair. He gathered the acorns, returned them to the bowl, and packed away the remainder of his ritual supplies.

The laptop beeped as an email arrived, but the message wasn’t from Rowan. Noah settled into the easy chair to wait out the candle.

I feel better. Willow will be okay soon.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, breathing in the lingering smells of the incense and wax. He opened his eyes and checked the clock. Only ten minutes gone since he lit the healing candle.

Noah fidgeted. He walked around the room. He went into the kitchen and put away the bowl he had used. He went into the poolroom and closed the sluice. He built up the fire.

Five more minutes.

Books always helped him pass the time, so he perused Willow’s bookcase. It held many classics, and she had quite a collection of very old books. One printed in 1803 must be a family heirloom. He stood and flipped through it, stopping to read a section here and there. A memoir of life on the frontier in Revolutionary War times, it had been read many times judging by the dog-eared pages.

Willow stirred. Half an hour. The candle was about a quarter burned.

Noah knelt by the sofa. Willow’s forehead was cooler when he touched it, and though her face was still bright pink, her breathing was smoother.

“I love you, Willow Brown,” he whispered. He kissed her cheek, and was glad to see tiny drops of sweat on her upper lip. Her hand was clammy when he lifted it to his lips and kissed it, another good sign. He let it lay in his upturned hand and studied it. Such a tiny thing he’d never seen on a woman. Her powerful arms didn’t fit these perfect hands.

As he caressed the hand like a fine sculpture, his fingers felt an unexpected texture on her wrist.

What’s that?

He turned the hand over and found an inch-long crescent-shaped scar, which stood out on her rosy skin. It didn’t appear to have been caused by a cut, but a severe abrasion. Noah turned her right hand over and found the same disfiguring mark.

What the hell?

He kissed both scars.

I wonder if…

He knelt near Willow’s feet, pulled the sheet up to her thighs and lifted one knee until the foot lay flat on the sofa. She bore another curved scar just above her Achilles tendon. The other ankle had the same mark. He found small white marks encircling both ankles. Another look at her wrists showed the same. He straightened the sheet and returned to the chair.

Noah had seen scars like these before. On cattle. His father had a name for them: hobble moons. They were the marks left by the steel hobbles used to prevent cattle from kicking or leaving the milking stand.

No accident did this.

Had Willow been someone’s captive? A fairy Hunter? Could she have been bound with chains? His eyes strayed to her sleeping form, wondering what kind of person could harm such a precious creature. With a sudden jolt, he came back to the present.

Chester Jones is the kind.

Many minutes passed as Noah raged, at Jones, at the nameless, faceless one who scarred this woman, at anyone who dared to look at her with evil in his heart. His hands clenched, his breathing quickened, and his face grew hot.

Willow stirred and then her eyes fluttered open.

Did you feel my anger?

Noah moved to the sofa. She smiled up at him. “Hi, Cowboy.” She dripped sweat. A hand on her forehead revealed she had cooled dramatically. When he touched her cheek, she turned her head and kissed his hand.

I feel…affection.

Thank you, spirits.

Tears tugged at his eyes. “Glad to see you’re back. How are you feeling, sweetie?”

“Better, I think.” She closed her eyes for a few moments. “I’m hot,” she said, and tried to kick off the sheet.

“Slow down, Supergirl.” He drew the sheet high up on her thighs and pulled the top down a little. “Would you like some water?” She nodded, though she was almost back to sleep. Noah went to the kitchen and drew some water. Shadow took the opportunity to greet Willow with some happy face licking.

Noah helped Willow raise her head enough to take a few sips before she dropped back into deep sleep. Sweat ran off her body in little streams that stained the sheet with dark streaks. He wiped her with a cold cloth.

Shortly after eleven, the black candle’s flame dwindled to a spark and went out. A tiny smoke plume marked its passing.

Ready for the second act.

Searching through the bowl of acorns, Noah located the smallest. Next, he rummaged in his ritual kit to find a short piece of cord. He needed a small square of cloth; he settled on the red felt from his athame cover. With his emergency sewing kit, he fashioned a tiny bag from the felt, into which he placed the single acorn. He sewed it shut with thread and tied it securely to the cord.

At midnight, Noah fastened the amulet necklace around Willow’s neck. The acorn represented the protective strength of the oak tree, and was a strong talisman against evil. The day had changed to Sunday, the best time to bestow such a gift.

Noah flopped into the easy chair, his eyes on Willow.

When did you steal my heart, little fairy?

I think it was the first time you smiled.

Noah continued to check on Willow, wiping her with the cool cloth, until the sweating stopped. She didn’t wake enough to speak again. About three o’clock he covered her legs with the sheet and pulled it up snug to her underarms. Her breathing was smooth and regular. He collapsed into the chair, leaned back, and immediately fell asleep.

Twelve

G
ray dawn filtered into the cottage when Noah woke with penetrating pain in his neck and sporadic beeping in his ears.

“Good morning, Cowboy,” Willow said. She still lay on the sofa, but she was smiling, with some sparkle in her eyes. Shadow was nearby, alert to every move Willow made, his tail thumping the floor.

“Hi, sweetie,” Noah said. He rose slowly, working the kinks out of his back, crossed the room and sat next to Willow. A hand on her forehead confirmed normal temperature, but the light in her eyes told him she was okay, despite looking exhausted. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“With my fingers.”

“I guess you’re better.”

“Except for minor things like I’m starving, I’m weak as a kitten and my gut feels like someone punched me twenty times.” She rolled toward him, wincing. “And when you lay on your wings for almost twenty-four hours they get itchy.” Noah placed a hand on her belly and rubbed it. She smiled at the intimate touch, and then lifted the sheet from her chest and peered beneath it. “I seem to be missing something.” She lowered the sheet and managed a flirty look. “I hope I’m not missing my virtue as well.”

Noah laughed. “What little virtue you had is still intact.” She stuck her tongue out at him and laughed, then grimaced again. Noah cupped her face with his hand. Wonderful to see, a faint glow lit her cheeks.

“You scared me,” he said.

“I scared me, too.” She fingered the amulet. “What’s this?”

“That’s for protection. Do you remember doing the ritual last night?”

“No. What ritual?”

The laptop beeped.

“Oh—I need to let Rowan know you’re alright.” He moved to the desk. “I emailed her to see if she had any medical advice.”

Noah studied the inbox. Rowan had emailed about fifteen minutes ago. The new message was a second one from her. As he watched, two more arrived from other concerned senders, then three immediately after those. He opened Rowan’s first message, which had no real suggestions but frantic promises to get help. He quickly typed a reply that all was well and he would tell her more later. Two more messages arrived as he typed. He returned to the sofa.

“Sounds as if lots of people care about you,” Noah said. “Unusual for a hermit.”

“So tell me about this ritual. Did you heal me?”

“I don’t know. I know you’re better, and you began getting better after I did the ritual. It wasn’t just a healing ritual, though. It was a spell-breaking spell, if you follow me. It’s possible someone put a hex on you.”

Willow raised her eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Think about it. Have you ever been so sick before?”

“No, I don’t think ever.”

“I think your fever was too high and left too fast for this to have been food poisoning. I could be wrong, I’m no expert.” He touched the amulet. “Part of the ritual put protective power into this. It holds an acorn, which is a symbol of the strength of the oak tree and is good protection from evil. I want you to wear it all the time.”

“So what did you do to me? Did you draw magic symbols on me?”

“No. You slept through the whole thing. The ritual creates sacred space for magic and focuses the natural energies on my intent, which was to cleanse you. Your part was to lay there and be beautiful.”

Willow smiled sheepishly. “Thank you for everything, Noah. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” She caressed his face.

“Would you like a bath?” he asked. “I opened the valve on the stove last night so the water should be warm by now.”