Guardian of the Moon Pendant (5 page)

“Please, I don’t want to…” I begged.

I even think a few tears formed in my eyes. I was so tired from the journey, exhausted from the plane ride, on one side of me, a large man with a beer barrel belly snored the whole time, jerking uncontrollably when he inhaled too much air, on the
other side of me sat a hipster, her music blasting on her iPod, drinking whiskey profusely, singing to herself the Velvet
Underground’s  “
Heroin.” Then there was the grueling train from Edinburgh through the Highlands, the ferry ride to the Outer Hebrides, and now this taxi was just a mere few miles from a hot shower, a warm meal, and a decent night’s sleep. I knew I’d do anything not to walk the rest of the way, especially in this weather.

Suddenly, a man’s scratchy voice arose from the black radio set on the dashboard, warbled and weak, it faded in and out. “Fergus!” it exclaimed.

Fergus reached in, still keeping his beady eyes steady on me, lifting the receiver to his mouth.
“Aye!”

“He’s
steamin
’ drunk, Fergus!” proclaimed the husky voice to the taxi. “Pick ‘em up before his head’s bashed in, again!”

“Can’t McKade do it?”

“Nah, he’s out!”

I watched Fergus’ jaw clench tightly, gritting his teeth, green veins popped out of his neck, inflating up like a balloon. He returned the receiver to its hook, pausing, tapping his fingers repeatedly on the receiver, still in a thought, his left eye twitching uncontrollably.

He turned his head toward me, looking me dead straight in the eyes and said, “It’s your lucky day, lass.” 

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but I was definitely happy that I didn’t have to trudge through the rain and mud.

Fergus positioned himself back into the driver’s seat, closing the door shut, his foot pressing heavily down on the gas, revving the engine loudly, shifting it into gear and speeding down the country road.

I flew back into my seat, relieved.  

The taxi hugged the road, soaring up and down hills, tossing me side to side, adding more bruises to my thighs, until we came to a complete and utter stop.

I gazed out the window as Fergus entered an old pub, its paint peeling and flaking off the storefront, and then he dragged out a white furry old man whose legs were like jelly. He yanked open the back door of the taxi and threw him into the seat next to me.

The red-faced man awkwardly leaned over my luggage toward me, grinning widely, his mouth missing a tooth or two, a strong odor of whiskey on his breath, smacking his lips loudly, slurring,
“
Give us a kiss…”

I pushed him away from me, slamming him hard back against the passenger door, appalled by his presence. His hideous odor didn’t help either!

Fergus twisted around in the driver’s seat, his arm extending out, and his hand bashing
the
drunk
man
’s skull against the window. “Keep yer hands to yerself, Da! We’re heading toward MääGord’s standing stones.”

Fergus’ dad’s eyes perked up at the mention of the MääGord’s standing stones, wide-eyed and alert like a little puppy dog, knowing his master was taking him to the park, wagging its tail excitedly, smudging his wet nose against the window, awaiting his destination.

“Will we see her, son?” he said in a dreamlike state, moving away from the window.

Fergus was tight lipped.

I watched his dad, tick off on his fat fingers, mumbling numbers to
himself
. “Nineteen years. Yes, should be the new moon. She’ll be…”

“Who’s she?” I asked, cutting him off.

“Watch out for him,” hollered Fergus from the driver’s seat, “he’s pure mental.”

“The most beautiful woman in the world, lass,” the aged man sighed, his bloodshot eyes surveying the hillside through the subsiding rain. “Stop the car!” 

The taxi screeched to a halt. Fergus set the brake handle, wheels locked. Fumbling with the latch, his father burst out onto the muddy road, stumbling down onto his knees. He lifted himself up, darting across the road, sprinting up the hillside like a mad man,
racing
toward a cluster of prickly bushes.

I stepped out of the car into the soft mist, staring at this crazed man picking at a thorny bramble, searching for something. “Are you, Ok?” I called out to him.

He whipped around, thumping his head with his knuckles. “I can hear her in me head!”

My eyes widened at the drunken man, mumbling to himself, picking at prickly bushes.

“Da, will ya get back into the car?” said Fergus impatiently.

The old man examined the shrubbery, hunting for clues, pinching out pieces of spun thread and sniffing them.

I cocked my head toward Fergus, curiously, shrugging my shoulders, not knowing what to do.

“Go on yerself,” he said, waving a dismissive hand at me and then returning to the driver’s seat.

“Sir?”
I called out, crossing the road, making my way up the damp incline after him, my boots sinking into the soggy ground, squishing mud all over them.

He snatched a piece of clothing off one of the sharp thorns, a tartan print of green and blue.

“Why don’t you come back to the car?” I asked, stepping on a wet rock beside him.

He raised the plaid cloth to his nose, sniffing it, licking it with his tongue, and then grimacing as if he tasted a sour lemon, spitting the flavor out of his mouth.
“Too old!”
 
he
said then tossed it over his shoulder.  Amusedly, he turned to me, scratching his belly, grinning with his partially toothless smile. “You’ve crossed over!”

“Pardon?”

“Your feet,” he hummed gleefully. “You’re on the other side of the ley lines.”

“Ley lines?”
I had no idea what this eccentric old man was talking about. I glared at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Mystical energy fields, invisible to the naked eye, they hold the Fae back like a grand fence,” he said excitedly, his eyes widening with emphasis.

“An invisible fence?”
I repeated, thinking this guy needs to be put on some serious meds.

“Aye, put into in our world by Danú herself.”

“Danú?”

“Aye, the mother of all magic!”

“Da!” hollered Fergus from the car.

“
Shoosh
!” he answered, fanning his hand down toward Fergus.

“He’s just pissed ‘
cause
I had a wee tug last night. No worries though, lass. The police let me off with a warning.”

“Tug?”

“Arrested, lass.
Have you ever been?” he asked innocently.

I blushed, fidgeting with my fingers and gazing down at my soiled boots. “Not lately,” I shrugged.

He cupped my right cheek with his dirty hand, patting me softly with his calloused palm, showing me his acceptance. “Good, lassy.”

I cowered inside.

Suddenly, his face turned sour, coughing up a ball of phlegm. He heaved over, violently vomiting on top of my boot tips.

Disgusted, I clamped my palm to my mouth, preventing the wave of vomit from rising in my stomach as I watched him spew out all the remains of his stomach.

“DA!!!” cried Fergus even louder.

Fergus’ dad stood up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Sorry, about that, lass. By the way, I’m Hamish,” he said all flustered. Hastily he headed back toward the car.

I jumped into the wet grass, trying desperately to remove all the puke and mud from the tips of my expensive boots, twisting them wildly around, until they appeared to be clean.

I followed Hamish back to the car, entering it apprehensively, hoping that I’d make it to the farmhouse as quickly as possible.

Fergus began to drive. “Just a wee bit up the road,” he said gleefully. “And then, we’ll be out of your hair.”

Somehow Fergus knew his father had just regurgitated his last meal onto my pricey leather boots. And there was no doubt that he wanted to be done with me as soon as possible. To tell you the truth, I wanted to be done with both of them too.

I gazed out the window, dazedly, hoping that we’d reach the farmhouse soon. It didn’t take long for Hamish to start chatting up a storm again.

“Tonight’s a special night with the new moon,” he said enthusiastically. “We’re approaching the midsummer’s solstice.”

“Old wives tales,” supplied Fergus helpfully with a loud snicker.

“‘Tis true! Every nineteen years the full moon will pass through the MääGord standing stones and the future of man’s existence is once again determined.”

“How’s that?”
I asked suspiciously.

The car came to a full stop.

“We’re here,” stated Fergus nonchalantly, never making eye contact.

I gathered my belongings, an overwhelming sense of relief tingled through my body. Finally, I had arrived at my destination. I stood outside the taxi, optimistically, gripping my luggage firmly.

Hamish rolled down the back window, his finger signaling me to come over, wanting to tell me more. “I’ll tell you,” he added, smacking his lips together, “every nineteen years, when the moon aligns with the MääGord standing stones, all the faeries will come out to play.”

I handed Fergus an exorbitant amount of money for the taxi ride from hell. He just smirked and counted out his Scottish sterlings.

Hamish continued. “Best be staying on the right side of the ley lines,” he said, pointing his finger down at the gravel road beneath my feet.

I swung around to see where I was, a long curved driveway hugged the lush green landscape, leading up to an attractive stone farmhouse, beyond it, upon a higher embankment, megaliths, massive stones jutting out into the grey-streaked sky.

I gaped at the sheer magnitude of the MääGord standing stones; their cold grey shapes soared into the air from fifteen to twenty feet tall, their crooked and narrow silhouettes scattered along the crest of a hill.

“And you’re not!” snorted Fergus loudly, gunning the beat up car and peeling away, leaving a billowing ash cloud of exhaust fumes.

Hamish fingers twinkled fondly out the back window, his lips pouting sadly, wishing he could stay with me.

I stared uneasily down the driveway, not knowing what fate was going to deal me, feeling a sense of utter despair, knees knocking, jaw hanging open, and my luggage crashing to the ground in a loud thud.

What had I gotten myself into?

Chapter 4

♦♦♦

Anabel

I stood before the farmhouse door, desperate to get Granny situated as quickly as possible, a venomous snake of fear slithering in my stomach. Whatever lay on this side of the ley lines mustn’t be good at all, and I wasn’t about to stay around to find out.

I smoothed back my hair, pulled my jacket taut, and squared my shoulders.

My fingers raised the brass door knocker. My heart quickened catching a quick movement flash in the corner of my eyes. I twirled to my right, noticing a small stone statue of an ugly gnome-like creature; a horned Viking helmet adorned his head, a tiny sword buckled to his side, a lightning shield plastered to his arm, his eyes popping out in surprise.

I cocked my head to the side. What an odd statue.

Nevertheless, I spun back around and banged the knocker repeatedly. I needed to stay focused on what to do with Granny. I will help her out, fluff a few pillows, get her some hot tea with honey, and hire a full-time nurse, whatever it takes to make her well again. Get in, get out, nobody gets hurt!

No answer. How odd?

I banged the knocker again.

“Granny!”
I yelled through the door. “It’s me, Anabel! I’ve come to take care of you!”

I cradled the doorknob in my hand, rattling it back and forth. No use, it was locked.

My eyes darted to the right, the funny little statue had hoisted its sword up higher, its mouth curling into a sneer. I shook my head, tilting it to the side, staring at its body which seemed to have moved. I blinked, edging closer to it, my finger pointing out, poking it lightly on the tip of its nose; it teetered back and forth, wobbling awkwardly, until it crashed down to the ground in a
thud!

I heard a clink-clank coming from the front door.
“Granny?
Is that you?” The door squeaked open.

My nose nudged through the doorway, scanning the foyer.

Not a soul.

I snatched up my luggage, noticing the eerie statue had gone.

Great, I’m starting to lose my mind. I sighed, rolling my sopping wet luggage in as I entered the empty house. Quickly, I shut the door behind me.

“Gran?”
I said aloud but still no answer. Dropping my luggage in the foyer, I crept into the living room, a crackling fire roared in the center of the back wall, surrounded by squishy sofas, high wood beams framed the vaulted ceilings, and a glistening suit of armor nestled in its corner.  The windows were adorned with colorful stained
butterflies and dragonflies, suctioned to the beveled glass
.