Tuatha and The Seven Sisters Moon

For Bella, Alec, Stefan, and Eric.
Safe, at home base.

B.A.S.E.D. Press
7522 Campbell Rd #113
PMB 210 Dallas, TX 75248
972-374-8062
Copyright © 2009 by D. VonThaer
ISBN: 978-0-615-32271-1
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

incidents are strictly products of the author's imagination, or
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, living or
dead, locales or events are purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, in

whole or in part in any form, print, media, or otherwise
without express written permission by the author.
Set in Constantia
Cover and Interior Design by D. VonThaer
Printed in the United States of America

This book is dedicated to all the characters in my life. For
the ones that ground me, and the ones that make me soar, the
ones that push me to go further, and those that reel me back
in, for the ones that leave me inspired, or kiss my head when
I'm tired, thank you.
~Dayna
The Rose
Imagine, if you will, a small rose bud, closed tight from the darkness.
In your mind’s eye, think of soft, fragrant petals folding into each
other, shielding the delicate bloom from the elements, protecting the
beauty and fine-spun heart that lies untouched within. Planted in
darkness, she turns into herself, hiding her truest beauty, never
opening for fear of the dark sapping away her prize.
Thorns give warning to those foolish enough to attempt to pick her

from her nourishing home. Razor sharp implements threaten any who
dare remove this bud of perfection from her source of being. So many
admirers wish to take her from her place, to keep her selfishly. They
wish to toss this gem of nature’s beauty into a harsh glass vase, remove
it from it’s home which bred it’s beauty and desirable fragrance.
The horizon gives birth to the sun, comforting the bud in it’s golden
hue and warm winds. The silken petals relinquish their fastidious
grasp, offering the first perfume of enchantment to fall upon every
olfactory nerve within a thousand miles. Heads to turn to the heavens,
searching for the source of this fragrant bliss, and harbor their selfish
thoughts of displacement as they go in search for her.
The nearest star, however, remains in it’s place within the heavens,
continuing to offer it’s heat and vibrancy as the warm spring winds lick
the petals open with caution, care, and charm. The sun knows the
rose's needs, it’s wants, and desires. She is not to be plucked and
dethorned. She is to remain still in the earth, admired, but never kept.
The rose, for the first time since plucking it’s sweet head above the
soil, finds strength in the sun’s touch and gentility, and she removes
her hold upon her petals, opening her sweetness to the heavens.
The breeze gently hums along those wickedly soft petals, finding the
center of that flower, massaging her until she opens up, wild and free,
tasting her rose hip, drinking her scent until the bloom feels at ease in
the light of day to linger as she was meant, free.
"We have no word for the man who is excessively fearless; perhaps
one may call such man mad or bereft of feeling, who fears nothing
neither earthquakes nor waves,as they say of the Celts."
~Aristotle
Chapter 1
Nightmares and Butterflies
Paper-mâché butterflies fluttered on long strands of string

and wire from the high-pitched wooden rafter ceiling. They
moved slowly, unnaturally so, leaving streaks of colour behind
their oversized wings. A girl stood next to the bed, her wavy
golden hair cut short, cropped close to her head, uneven and
messy. She was sweating, swiping her forehead with her arm
as she tossed items into an already overflowing bag with
shaky hands. Ribbons of freshly trimmed hair covered the bed
and floor in small piles. She glanced into a mirror hanging
crookedly on her wall. Her red, tear-stained face looked back
at her, enraging her further. The playfulness of the room
swelled, cramping the space until she felt claustrophobic.
Everything became foggy, blurring the fine lines of the
bedroom. The white-painted wainscoting blended into the
whitewashed ceiling, making it look like she was inside a
crystal ball. The only thing that remained vivid was her eyes.
Stunning, striped green eyes looked back at her as she
1
TUATHA AND THE SEVEN SISTERS MOON
screamed with force, shattering the mirror that revealed the

aftermath smeared across her young, Dresden face.
The glass shot out of the frame, spinning towards her

already blemished face, and then it suddenly faded away. A
starry sky hovered overhead. Bright, twinkling stars
contrasted intensely with the inky backdrop. They looked
huge, far too close to earth. Just as she reached out a hand to
touch one, they faded into smoke. A face replaced the sky. He
was quite handsome, with hair as dark as the night’s sky, and
eyes so devoid of colour they looked like pearls. His face was
deeply tanned from the summer sun, and her hand caressed it
tenderly. His bright smile and playful smirk twisted into a
maniacal grin, drawn by some hand other than nature. The
scene sped up, fast-forwarding through flashing images;
lightning bugs and a pond, flopping toads and twirling lily
pads, hands clenched together in unison. The lightning bugs
swelled over the water, pulling to form a massive cloud of
smoke and flame. Gurgling from the toads sounded more like
bestial growls and the handsome face hovering over hers
distorted horribly, showing more of a daemon than a
teenaged love.
The break-neck pace halted. Everything slowed, leaving the

sounds of the surrounding embankment sluggish, their
speech unintelligible. The fire spread beyond the line of the
trees. Her burning eyes followed it, her cries sticking in the
thickness of the air. The heat was sweltering, but her back felt
cold as ice, and painful. Panic built in her chest, pressing
against the weight of his body that was forcing her back, away
from the fire. The darkness replaced by a brilliant orange
glow, and the smell of smoke overtook the fresh smell of
summer rain.
2
D. VONTHAER
Her fair skin bubbled beneath the surface. Like an artist

drawing on a canvas from the inside of her flesh, markings
scarred her otherwise perfect skin. Overlapping wings carved
into her as her muffled voice called out. The opalescent eyes
that hovered over her faded into the depth of night. The only
words she could hear played over and over like scratched
vinyl.
I did it.
Once more, it sped up, so fast it was difficult to see exactly

what was happening. She was heading towards the rim of
trees that lined the nearby hilltop, and she looked back to see
a huge, flat rock covered in glistening red. As soon as she saw
one droplet slide down the side of the bumpy, grey stone,
flames encircled her. It moved fast, and then slow, then fast
again, halting at certain points where she could just barely
make out people standing on the other side of the flame.
She was in the centre of a fiery ring. Women and children

were on the other side crying a tormenting lament. A tall
white house stood behind them crookedly, painted into the
scenery. The fire flashed, reducing those crying to dust. Only
two women remained on the other side. The flames whipped
past them, tearing at their skin. Their eyes matched hers,
their pale golden hair singeing from the intense heat.
However, it was their eyes that remained steady on hers,
narrowed, haunting. A long tongue of flame licked at the air,
and in one swipe they too, were gone. The fire encompassed
the girl fully, squeezing the breath from her scarred and
bloodied body. It pushed into her, its heat melting away her
sight and she felt ice cold until she took a great, full, heaving
breath.
3
A hard gust of breath crossed heart-shaped lips, and Dru

woke up with a start, her breath ragged. Her hand swiped
back and forth, knocking over a still-warm set of pillows. Her
heart thumped hard beneath her breast, and she flopped to
her back, trying to steady herself. The bright, full moon lit her
bedroom, casting it in an orangish glow, like being inside a
carved pumpkin. Instinctively, her hand went to her head.
Her fingers pulled at the ribbons of very long, yellow hair. It
was damp with sweat and she sat up, confused and shaken.
She hadn't had that nightmare in ages. More than a decade
had passed since that fateful night, and she’d thought the
nights of it haunting her were long gone. Swallowing hard,
her mouth felt like it was housing cotton balls. Feeling achy
and more tired than normal, celebratory drink still flooded
her veins, and she flung her legs off the bed.
The patchwork pillow lying on the floor still had an indent

of his head, and she croaked out his name quietly as she
scooted down the hall of her cottage. “Ty?” Clearing her
throat, she heard nothing back. She knocked on the chipped
door to the bathroom before opening it only to find it
unoccupied. She grabbed her bathrobe from the hook on the
back door, frowning at her disheveled appearance in the
mirror. Her very long, golden wavy hair looked like an
untamed lion’s mane. She slipped on what used to be a thick,
fluffy purple robe with a gigantic white daisy on the back that
now was so threadbare, it could have been a gigantic dishrag.
She padded towards the kitchen of her cozy and very
colourful cottage. The Irish Sea softly hummed outside as she
looked around her quiet little home.
Costumed partiers were making a racket outside, smashing

pumpkins into the streets, singing old songs and dancing in
the winding road. Shuffling herself into the kitchen for a glass
4
D. VONTHAER
of water, she stood in the middle of the room with her robe
hanging wide open, yawning as a glass filled itself under the
tap, and floated gingerly towards her awaiting hand. She
sipped it until she found her voice, and then called out once
more, “Oi! Ty?”
The waves were hitting the rocks down below, and she
stared at them blankly, still partially drunk from her own
celebration hours before.
Trying to snap herself awake, she went through her cottage

that sat alone on the beach, a little fleck of white in the lush
greenery of Eire. She was definitely alone. No one was there.
The man she shared her heart and her bed with was neither in
the other bedroom, nor in the garden. They had been out
dancing and drinking early in the evening, celebrating the eve
of Samhain before coming back to her cottage to enjoy each
other. They’d fallen asleep in each others arms, but Dru woke
up alone. Her green eyes scanned the dark, still cottage. Ty’s
large black boots were not by her small, well-worn shoes; his
leather jacket was not on the back of her cushy chair.
Glass in hand, she opened the front door and stared out at
the kids making noise and having fun with their store-bought
masks and cut white sheets. A fire in her chest simmered as
the moon looked down at her like a jack-o-lantern sitting
high in the sky. A cluster of stars blinked under the moon,
shining oddly bright considering how the moon was positively
glowing. Dru shut the door quietly, and the gust of wind
knocked out the candles that burned in her carved pumpkins
and gourds. She walked around in little circles for a minute,
taking stock of the photos lining her walls and shelves, the
blankets tossed onto the sofa, the trail of her clothing that
lead down the hall to her bedroom. Stopping in front of her
5
fireplace, her droopy eyes scanned the framed photos lining

the mantelpiece amongst the trinkets and dried flowers. The
glass hung at her side, the water in it softly moving just like
the waves of the sea beyond her back garden.
One photo made her eyes perk open, fending off the night
of drink. Bright blue water filled the background against an
equally blue sky, making the man’s matching eyes in the
picture positively speak. His hair was as wavy as Dru’s, but
more the colour of ash than gold. She only came up to his
sun-kissed, freckled shoulders. She clamped eyes onto that
photo; his fingers laced into her hair, and their smiles
matched the joy in their eyes. Her vivid cerulean eyes stared
harder and deeper into his blue ones and she felt something,
something just not right. Her cuckoo clock sounded, making
her jump as it let her know it was midnight. Samhain. The
Feast of the Dead. The last note of the cuckoo bird chirped
and the glass in her hand fell with a crash to the hearth, a
wash of tears filling her eyes.
6
Chapter 2
Freedom Dance
The Russian Imperial Ballet Company

As Guests of the French National Ballet Company
We are Pleased to present to you a Performance of
Giselle
Performed by renowned Prima Ballerina
Katerina Maximova
Act one finished to perfection. A thunderous stampede of
small, well-trained feet shook the backstage area of one of the
most well-known theatres in Paris. A petite, dark-haired
woman shut herself into the dressing room. Locking the door
swiftly, she ran around frantic while guzzling water, shoving
7
items into a bag she had been preparing for months. Peeling
her sweat-dampened costume off her body with a wince, the
young dancer nearly jumped out of her skin when a stern
knock rapped at the door. Wrapping a thick white robe
around her well-toned frame, she caught a glimpse of her
heavily made-up face in the mirror. Huge brown doe-eyes
stared back at her, the thick black liner beginning to streak
her blushed cheeks as she pressed her ear to the door. Her
bottle of water in her left hand, the other went to the door
and she called out in a thick, Russian accent, “Dressing!”
But, another knock came even louder this time, and right
onto her ear. Jumping back, the dancer answered the door;
beads of sweat permeating her brow, making her makeup
nearly melt off of her face.
It was not the large burly guard she was expecting. Instead,
two beautiful women flanking the stage manager stood at her
door. Her eyes bulged at one of them, but she barely
registered the name of the other.
“Monica Raisi and Amber Allen, from, I’m sorry dears, where
did you say you’re from?”
Katerina opened the door fully to allow her guests to step

into her dressing room, waving away her stage manager.
“I know who they are, Masha. Go. Honestly.”
A long vanity covered in hundreds of tubes of lipstick,

creamers and hair pins took up one entire wall. Bright round
lights lit the huge square mirror above it, casting everything
in a blinding, brilliant light.
8
D. VONTHAER
"Welcome. Come in please. Please forgive zee mess. Eez mad

right now. I am Katerina. Katerina Maximova. Of course, I ‘ave
read all about both of you, but as they say, can’t believe
everything you read, da’?”
Gesturing to her guests to sit, her hands trembled with

worry. She opened the large closet opposite the two women.
Every performance, especially ones such as this which were
for charity, brought an onslaught of famous folk, and at times,
infamous personalities wanting to get to know the
performers. Katerina relished in moments like these. Meeting
real people, and American women at that, made it worth
every stitch in her side.
Brief moments such as these were what she lived for;

especially since her mother passed. She never really knew
much about the outside world except what she read. But these
women were of such a caliber the radios, televisions and even
magazines couldn’t help but mention either or both of their
names routinely as one’s voice and one’s face consistently
gave the media something to talk about. She tried not to look
too excited, even though she could burst. A row of beautifully
designed costumes filed the wardrobe. She contained her
excitement, and spoke as smoothly as she could, even though
she felt as if she’d explode.
“Would you care to see the costumes? They are lovely this
year. The stitches are done in real gold, and the fabric is over
one hundred years old.”
She held out the tiny, stiff bodice of her costume she was to
wear in the second act. She stroked it thoughtfully, like it held
a secret. The women joined her, and just as the trio began to
gush over the handiwork, another knock interrupted.
9
Katerina opened it to find her stage manager looking harassed

and talking in rapid-fire Russian. Katerina answered her
quickly in her native tongue as the women looked around and
sipped their cocktails. Another woman came in to help, a tape
measure around her neck. The three women came back
towards the Americans, rapid Russian filling the room. The
Russian women frantically helped her into the bodice.
Katerina spoke in her broken English as she was being laced

into her costume, “Would you like photos? I’m sorry, I need to
finish dressing. You are welcome to stay.”
Katerina winced as the laces were being tightened. Each

time the laces were drawn, it felt like wire being cut through
her skin. The singer was the more talkative of the visitors, and
clearly the more intelligent as the platinum-coiffed model was
rather unfortunate in her one-word extravaganza of umm.
Her unnaturally turquoise-shaded eyes rolled around in her
sockets, as if the ceiling would offer her an additional word.
But, no such word ever found it’s way from her bright eyes to
her glossy lips, and Katerina again turned her attention to the
one with the soft, charismatic voice. She knew that voice so
well. More than the chanteuse could possibly imagine.
The look on Monica’s face made Katerina fearful that she

could see right through her. Like she had a hint as to what
would happen. Taking her eyes off of the slender, honey-
haired woman, Katerina stared at the floor, as she always did,
preparing to be laced. And with a final tug, Kat let out a
violent cry, a thick wave of tears threatening to rush from her
eyes. The women stared, mouth gaping, before they politely
left the dressing room. Katerina felt horrible now for crying
out. She should have held it in, she frightened them away.
10
D. VONTHAER
“Thank you. Thank you for coming. Please wait just a

moment and we can have photos taken before I go back on.”
Once her makeup was retouched and her hair redone, she
posed quickly for the press with her company, feeling dwarfed
by the women flanking her. From left to right was the model,
platinum haired and rake-thin, her eyes glowed in the
darkness of the backstage, Katerina in the middle at just five-
feet tall, and the singer to the right with her soft, golden glow,
desert eyes. They quipped with each other, and kissed each
others cheeks politely, the singer’s hand touching Katerina’s
bare shoulder gently during the photo. But she was forced to
say her goodbye's and was ushered to her place on stage as
the women found their seats.
Time. The forest grave stage prop was set for Katerina. She
was now a little concerned, however. She had not had the
chance to guarantee the exit door was unlocked. She was
terrified, and it showed. She laid on the prop, and allowed the
stagehand to cover her with the faux leaves and branches. As
the second act began in the forest, the curtain parted, and the
dance began. For the first time in her career, in her life, she
was not concentrating on the dance. Her mind was on that
door. Whilst Hilarion visited her grave, and the ghostly
maidens danced around causing the riotous noise she had
been counting on, Katerina slipped beneath the trap door in
the stage floor. The audience could see nothing but a
shapeless form under the piles of artistically created leaves
and grass. Katerina fell to the hard floor below, and dashed at
top speed to the area under the backstage where she saw the
bag hanging from a rafter that she had placed hours before.
She had fifteen minutes before the scene would end and
Giselle would be awakened by the Wili. She frantically
11
removed her skirt and slipped on her jeans and tossed a large
bulky sweater over her head to cover the priceless bodice
sticking to her skin. As fast as possible through shaking,
rattled fingers, she unlaced her slippers and shoved on tall
brown boots, and crammed her skirt and slippers into the
satchel after taking out a black coat she bought from a street
vendor. Tossing the satchel over her shoulder, Katerina held
the coat in her hand, and went to the small emergency fire
exit that was no longer being used now the large, up-to-code
ones were installed. Hardly anyone could fit through the tiny
opening since it had been partially blocked, but she could.
She had planned on it.
She braced herself and held her breath, and slipped carefully
through the layers of concrete and brick, and climbed the
skinny, steel ladder that led to a grate on the Parisian Street.
Throwing on the coat, she hustled down the street, thankful

beyond belief it was Halloween. The streets were loud and
boisterous, just as she’d hoped. She checked the watch tucked
into the coat pocket, and sighed.
2 minutes.
She was to take only one to change. She had to make up for
it. Katerina sprinted as fast as her body could take her, the
freezing air numbing her throat as she turned off the Place de
l'Opera and headed straight to the Opera metro station.
Her shaky hand fumbled in the cold for the ticket she had
pre-purchased the night before. How tricky she thought she
had been the previous night at dinner when she snuck out
and went next door to the metro station and bought her
ticket. She slipped back easily into the conversation, her
12
D. VONTHAER
company turning a blind eye as always that she was simply

maintaining her figure. In her mind, she was regaining life.
She reached the metro station, and again looked to her

watch. Three and a half minutes. She had barely made up for
lingering. She stuck her ticket into the till, but it didn’t
validate. She began to panic. A ticket agent began walking to
her, his keys jingling with each step. She didn’t want to be
seen. Her face was still covered in glimmering stage makeup,
surely he’d take notice. Desperately trying yet again, the till
took her ticket. She rushed through the gate leaving the agent
a step behind her, a blank look on his face. She called out in
her very best French, “Merci!”
The sound of the train came from the tunnel. But then, she
heard loud male voices rushing at her from the stairs. Just as
she thought she would collapse from the combination of pain,
exhaustion, hunger, and fear the loud voices showed to be just
teenagers. The train pulled in and stopped before her. Hiding
her face she climbed on and found a seat in a nearly empty
vessel. She breathed a little better as she thought out her plan.
One stop to Havre. Then, she’d switch trains to go to Gare
Saint Lazare, the train terminal. From there, she could be in
London in three hours. Only problem is they could fly there
in less than one. This was the tricky part. She would leave on
the first available and pray it would set her free. Pray, as she
did so diligently her entire life, for one opportunity for
freedom.
Keeping her head low so as to cover her face, she prayed a

little, trying to calm her nerves. In moments the metro
stopped at Havre. She exited quickly and hauled herself up
the stairs to the next train. She stood on the platform waiting,
13
and looked again at her watch.
5.3 minutes.
With amazing luck the train came right away and she again
entered the compartment. This train was much busier. In less
than a minute the train was slowing down to the St. Lazare
train terminal. She rushed up the sleek gray steps to find the
schedule. In less than two minutes a train was leaving to
Geneva. The London train was still six minutes off. She was
unsure of what to do. She would blend in seamlessly in
London, but she would have major difficulty in Geneva as she
did not speak German at all. Her Russian and broken English
would be recognised immediately. At least in France, she
could fit in, as she learnt the language from a very early age.
France was simply not far enough away. For all it mattered,
there wasn’t a place on Earth far enough away from the hell
she‘s been living. But the Geneva train left right away. She
would be five minutes ahead. If she waited, that was five
minutes for them to catch her. She had no time to think. She
jumped on a train and waited anxiously for it to depart.
6 minutes, 50 seconds.
As she sat, an announcement came, “Last call! Train to Lille,

Amsterdam, and Delft! Back on the schedule! Last call!”
With full force she leapt off the train, barely making it out
before the doors closed. She tore through the station, and
scooted into the doors just as they were closing. Families and
children were packed in the seats. An usher grabbed her thick
coat from behind and she nearly wet her leotard. He pulled
her all the way into the train car, and then went for another
passenger to help them inside.
14
D. VONTHAER
He called out for people to make room as the train lurched

beneath her feet and she walked to a different compartment
looking for space. To her delight, the quiet car had several
seats available. She sat in a thick cushioned seat, her chest
beating hard now in the silence. The quiet car forbade any
noise. No talking. No cell phones. No loud music. She was in
heaven. She would be able to hear things happening. More
importantly, she had no one sitting looking directly at her. A
different usher came to the compartment to check tickets.
She handed hers from behind the cover of her hood, and he
looked at it suspiciously, and then lowered his head to
whisper.
“For what you paid for this, you could have been in first
class!”
She nodded and let out a faint laugh. The usher put a stub
above her seat and continued to take tickets from the other
passengers. The train gradually gained speed and they were
finally out of the terminal and making their way to the
outskirts of the city. After a few minutes of attempting to
calm her nerves and failing spectacularly, she got up and
made her way to the restroom, her satchel tightly held over
her shoulder. Katerina locked herself inside the toilet marked
handicapped. The dim yellow lights came on when she
latched the door, which highlighted her crimson lips and pale
face.
She took a handful of tissues and wiped her trembling lips.

She hung her coat on a small hook, and she undressed
entirely. Getting the bodice off proved much harder than she
anticipated. Her sides were splitting from the mixture of late
October chill, running, and being terrified beyond words. In
15
frustration, she grabbed scissors from her kit and cut it right
off of her body.
Deep red marks were embedded into her skin from the tight
bodice's fabric. Turning to look in the small mirror, tears
threatened her eyes, but she refused. She had no time for
crying, not now. Shaking her head annoyed at herself, she
took the washing cloths from her sack and began to scrub her
arms and legs vigorously. Yellow residue showed immediately
on them, which she threw away in large plastic bags for her to
seal and dispose of later. One after another she used trying to
cleanse herself from the body makeup and glitter.
Taking one to her face, she scrubbed it with pure anger.

One cloth. Two. Three. Seven washcloths later her face felt
tight and raw. The eye makeup left dark purple circles under
her eyes. Or were they there from lack of sleep? She didn’t
care. She ran the water to make it somewhat warm and put
generous amounts of soap in her hands. Again, she scrubbed
her face until it hurt. She dried her skin and took her hair out
of it’s tight, encumbering bun. Chestnut locks fell in large,
round curls past her shoulders. She picked up the watch lying
on the floor.
13 minutes.
Quickly, she brushed her long, chocolate hair to free it from

all the sprays and gels. She had to smile as her head looked
wild. Completely untamed. She took her scissors and began to
chop, making sure to tuck each lock into another zippered
plastic bag. The snipping sound made her lips twitch
upwards, every snap of the sheers cutting away all those years
of torment, of abuse, of being told what would make her
beautiful, acceptable, worthy. She then tipped her head
16
D. VONTHAER
upside down and brushed it all forward. She trimmed more

and more, feeling liberated, the more she cut, the more she
wanted to cut. When she finally stood, she was shocked at
how short it actually was, and spoke to herself in the small
train restroom mirror. “Hm. Cute.”
She took a small box of hair colouring from her bag. She
would be a blonde from now on, which she found rather
amusing. She put on the protective gloves, mixed the tubes
into the bottle as carefully as she could with the train
rumbling under her, and she applied the gel to her entire
head. She washed her hands and the gloves, and stuck them
into a third plastic bag. An alarm sounded, making her jump
and nearly knocking herself out on the low ceiling of the train
bathroom.
15 minutes.
They would be finding out. Now. Staring at her reflection,

her face was red and splotchy from the scrubbing. Her hair
was short and spiky from the hair coloring gel. She was totally
nude in the small bathroom on the train, and she finally felt
free. Getting into her bag to retrieve the remainder of her
clothes, she slipped on jeans, socks, and then her boots. She
still stood topless, waiting to rinse out her hair, and her eyes
trying to avoid the deep marks in her skin from the tight
bodice. Packing up everything she had taken out of her bag,
except for a bottle of water, she waited for her hair to be done,
which seemed to take forever. Finally, a second alarm went off
telling her it was time to rinse, just as her nerves were taking
over.
Bending her head into the small sink, she rinsed out her hair
with the bottled water. Katerina refilled the bottle to rinse her
17
newly altered hair again and again until she was satisfied it
was clean. Squeezing the water from her very short hair in the
sink, and snapped her head upright. It was spunky, spiky, and
so very yellow. She shook her head like a dog after it's bath,
trying to dry it as much as she could. She styled it damp with
her fingers, and finished dressing. Using paper towels, she
wiped down the sink and toilet. Searching quickly once more
for any remnants of hair or clothing she may have left behind,
she took a final look in the mirror.
‘I certainly will not be recognised right away. I can hardly

recognise myself,’ she thought proudly. With a paper towel
still in her hand, she opened the bathroom door slowly and
peeked out. Everyone appeared to be asleep in the quiet car as
she crept back to her seat. She tucked the bag between her
feet, and stuck on glasses that magnified her already huge
eyes, knowing she must look like a bug.
Just then an announcement came over the speaker. A kind

voice told the passengers the refreshment car was ready.
Delighted, Katerina took a huge roll of money out of her bag,
and released one crisp note from the rubber band holding it
all together. She went straight to the food car and collected
everything she could carry. She had been starving for so very
long, she could barely walk from the weight of her goods. She
made it back to her seat and dug into her feast. The lights of
the small towns whizzed by as she finished her very last drop
of sweet soda pop.
She belched several times before feeling content. Katerina

cleaned up her wrappers, her stomach feeling heavy and
bloated, and returned to the restroom to deposit her trash
when a sudden feeling of pain overrode her. Her body was not
accustomed to eating, let alone pounds of sugary, salty food at
18
D. VONTHAER
once. It was rejecting each bite she had taken with groans and
gurgles of anguish. Stooped once again over the sink, she said
aloud the first words she had spoken all night since leaving
the Opera Garnier. “You will not control me. Nyet.”
She shocked herself by her outburst, but stepped back out

of the restroom feeling proud, like she’d won a battle. She
took her seat once again and checked the time.
34 minutes.
Surely, they knew by now. Where would they look first? She
wondered only a second before her stuffed body forced her
into a much needed sleep.
She woke with a start. There was no sound but the gentle
rocking of the train. She looked around wildly for some sign
of disturbance, but found none. She searched for her watch,
why hadn’t the alarm gone off? Just as she clamped her hand
around it, a tiny bell went sounded. Wiping the sleep from
her tired eyes, the same kind voice came over the loudspeaker
to make an announcement in French, and then again in
English.
‘Ladies and gentleman. We will be arriving in Lille in just a

few short moments. Those wishing to connect to the Thalys
train to Amsterdam, Brussels, Geneva, or Delft please follows
the signs to your platform. Those ending your journey in Lille
please be prepared to show your passport or French
identification card upon arriving. Please take care to collect all
your belongings before exiting the train. Bon Soir.’
Her heart sank. She had forgotten a passport. Well, she

certainly wouldn't be staying in Lille, she had to keep going,
and she had to get out of France. She'd deal with her identity
19
later. In fact, she reasoned that she should change her name
completely. She had little time left to consider these things, as
the train slowed to a stop, and all the passengers were
groggily making their way to the doors.
Katerina folded into the rush of people, which quickly

thinned as they all took their own way to their destinations.
She stopped before the large, lighted schedule to see which
platform she needed for Amsterdam. She was not so lucky
this time. Twenty-three minutes before it departed. Way too
long for her to linger in one place. She scanned the schedule,
trying to decide which to take. Trains to Nice in ten minutes,
but that was still France. Cologne train in fifteen minutes. Still
too long for her comfort, and the likely place they would start
looking. Kat left traces of interest in Cologne back at her
apartment, hoping to throw off their scent.
Then, a booming voice came over the loudspeaker, echoing

in the vast train station. ‘Due to a disturbance at Paris’ Nord
train station, the following trains are running behind schedule.’
Her heart sank. Disturbance. Paris. But it was at a different
station.
The announcement continued, ‘The following trains will

leave as scheduled: Delft, Brussels, Marseilles, and Geneva.’
Making a last minute decision yet again, she sprinted to

Platform 5, directly behind the partition in front of her. Train
to Brussels, leaving in less than five minutes. It would have to
do. Moments later she was watching the French countryside
zoom past her window. She was on her way to Brussels, for
now, but she was unable to sleep on this leg of her journey,
her mind fraught and her stomach positively barking.
20
D. VONTHAER
She couldn't stop thinking about the train station.

Disturbance in Paris. As her head swam with wild ideas and
schemes, the conductor let them know they were about to
arrive in Brussels. Once again, Kat gathered herself and her
belongings and put on her thick black coat. She would need
to shed this soon. She had no idea if they would see security
footage from the train stations and did not want to draw
attention to herself. She left the train again, but this time
chose not to board another.
It was very late now, and only a few trains ran at this hour.
She left the train station and walked the local streets, looking
for an abandoned house or apartment. The city of Brussels
was beautiful, if only she could stay for a day. Though, she
knew better. Alone, she walked the local streets, and looked
for an abandoned house or apartment. Much to her delight, a
stand of papers stood on a corner, and she flipped through for
places for rent. Having an idea, she walked away from the
busy street towards a deserted street of row houses. There
were plenty to choose from. Rows and rows had signs in their
windows to let or purchase. She found a set of three in a row
that all appeared to be vacant.
Sneaking to the back, trying not to be seen, she wrapped her

thick coat around her hand and smashed a small window
above the patio. Hoisting herself up the black wrought iron
handrails, she peeked inside. It was a bathroom. She shoved
in her things, then pulled herself in through the tiny window.
Once inside, she took the booklet of ads and spread it across
the window, trying to block air and noise. She abandoned the
idea when she couldn’t find a way to hold it in place, but
made a reminder not to turn on the light in there, and she
shut the door behind her.
21
Quietly, she stepped into the main house, making sure it

was vacant. Tiptoeing around, she checked every room, and
even managed to secure the lock on the screen door, in case
someone tried to open it with a key from the outside. The
house was not grand, but it looked comfortable. Feeling more
secure now, she went back to the bathroom, and took a
steaming hot shower, washing away the residue of her journey
and dance. She packed up her things, and dressed in a fresh
sweater and jeans for bed, just in case she had to jump up and
run. Katerina even put her boots on, terrified she’d be found
as she slept.
She sat around for a while, sort of blinking into nothingness

about what she had done. Finally, unable to stand any more,
she laid the papers down in the tub to dry off the residual
water, climbed in, and slept in the bathtub with her coat
under head. Chirping birds woke her, and she looked at them
as she ruffled her mop of hair, thinking they were tattling on
her. She’d have another long, long day before she’d rest again.
All of her future days could become very long, indeed.
Unbolting the front door, Kat looked out onto the street to
watch for neighbours. It was very early still, and rather dark.
Opening the door just slightly, she slipped out the front, and
made her way back to the busy main road as quickly as
possible. This time, she took a bus to the train terminal,
anxious to get started. It was here she had her first shock of
the situation at hand. A newspaper had her photograph on
the front cover, with a headline that wrenched her gut.
Dancer Missing, Feared Dead
22
D. VONTHAER
Prima Ballerina Katerina Maximova disappeared from the

stage last night during a charity performance in Paris. Dancers
were shocked to discover the dancer missing from a stage prop
during the final act of Giselle.
Authorities say her entourage have been uncooperative and

tight-lipped about the bizarre disappearance. They are being
held for questioning pending an investigation…
Ms. Maximova seemed to be on form and well during the

performance, even posing for pictures with the rich and
famous. (See page 6 for further details) Theatergoers and ballet
enthusiasts remain stunned, sending a rippling effect
throughout the demanding world of international dance.
Her mouth hung open as she read and reread the article no
less than four times on the way to the train station. She
almost forgot to get off the bus; she was still in such a state of
shock. Her name, her picture was a front-page headline! She
had to get further away. Frozen from the inside out, she made
her way back into the all-too familiar station. She had the
feeling people were staring at her. Was she imagining this?
She knew her face was plastered all over the news.
Feeling trains may no longer be safe, she entered a small

kiosk filled with souvenirs and tacky scarves. She rummaged
through the bin in the back that was full of hats in various
colours. She grabbed three. One black, one white, one blue.
She could change them often and try to keep a low profile.
Slipping the black hat on to cover her newly brightened hair,
she exited, but a guard stopped her, grasped her arm and
shoved a photo in her face. She was looking at herself.
“Have you seen a woman like this?”

23
In her very best French replied, “Non. Je n'ai pas.” He

ignored her and reached out for the next person walking by
and asked the same question, shoving the flyer in their face.
This was it. The train was not safe anymore. She walked
casually out of the station, feeling desperate and panicked.
She saw a line of buses waiting on the other side of the
terminal, and walked quickly to the ticket till. The next bus
was to Amsterdam. Katerina bought her rather cheap ticket,
and jumped on the bus. As the bus passed the entry to the
train terminal, she saw some rather brooding looking men
and the same guard shoving pieces of paper into passenger's
faces and questioning them. She felt like she took her first
breath as the bus entered the highway.
24
Chapter 3
Rising Dagda
Rhythmic thumping of a bodhran drum filled the air like a

light auditory fog behind the louder, rowdier crowds spilling
from the pubs and into the quaint street. As each door flew
open, guitars and flutes filled the town square, and hints of
music could be heard as far as the rolling green hills. A small
group of masked young men stood in front of a building
painted in flamingo pink, talking animatedly.
Their voices were muffled under the false rubbery faces they
wore, cigarettes bouncing up and down as they chatted away
in their thick local dialect. Pumpkins and gourds lined the
doorways; small flickering fires making the old sidewalks glow
underfoot as darkness swallowed the star-strewn sky. Candy
wrappers blew in the wind, collecting at their feet as they
talked, louder and louder, as they found it was becoming
difficult to be heard. Why it was hard to hear each others
whiskey-slurred words was quite unclear. The noise wasn’t
any greater, the wind wasn’t any harder, it was simply as if the
25
earth itself absorbed their voices, leaving them as mere

whispers to the naked ear.
One man, short and square with equally short and square
hair, slipped off his mask and took a deep breath, looking at
the cigarette in his hand, silently questioning it for nicking his
voice. Looking around at his mates, they peeled the masks
from their faces and looked around suspiciously. Things were
getting quieter between the two doorways where they stood.
A large, well-known sign behind them pointed in various

directions offering tourists and passerby suggestions of
Holywell to the left, or maybe a spot of tea to the right. The
group turned towards the collection of signs which scaled the
outer wall. It always sort of twitched under the weight of the
wind, only now it was still, eerily still as the town-square grew
quieter. They looked around, doors were still opening and
shutting, people down the road were apparently laughing, but
all sound was slowing to a mute. The quiet crept down the
road, silencing the pubs and tea room. The lamp-lit faces
watched each other, waiting for some explanation. Taking a
deep drag of his cigarette, the military-looking man stared
wide-eyed at the smoke coming from the small white stick. It
too slowed, snaking through the air like an eel in water.
Turning to his mates, he started to shake his head when a
single chime broke the silence.
Collectively, the heads turned to the large ornate clock in

Town Centre as it called out to everyone, announcing the
witching hour. As the chime drifted into space, a deafening
explosion rocked the entire town. Sounds of chaos ripped
through the local’s minds and bodies, painting them with
fear. The earth growled under their feet, and the group of
young men fell like bowling pins. But, there were no blasts of
26
D. VONTHAER
fire, no shattered windows, not even an upturned bicycle.

Nothing out of sorts was seen. Only heard. The place sounded
like a bomb had roared right under their feet, and the
terrified crowd looked around for signs of the damage they
could only hear. The foreign noise calmed down though
terrified screams took it’s place. Afraid and confused faces
looked to each other for an explanation, a word of comfort,
something.
All eyes looked to the clock, which remained as lovely and

finely detailed as ever, hoping for an explanation. The clock
merely stared back, refusing to offer such detail. The longer
the group stared, the quieter the air became, and everyone
seemed to be afraid to make a sound at all, for fear they’d be
the one to blame, or to set off another alarm. Hard gusts of
breath coated their tumultuous faces as a creak broke the
night. Turning their attention from the old clock, they found
the source of the small noise. A brown sign read Aillwee Cave
in neat, crisp white letters. It waved in the breeze, even
though the many other signs on the same post remained quite
still. The sole squeak from the metal sign sent a warm breath
over their cold and shivering bodies. It passed over the
partygoers and townsfolk, circled the clock once, before
following the helpful sign out of town, over the grassy knolls
and towards the karst landscape.
The air swam around the vast plateau of limestone. Thin

lines of green cut through the gray stone earth, sprinkled with
shades of purple from wild heather. The ancient stone shook
as if being rocked by an earthquake. A deep gauge in a large
rock began to pull apart, the dainty purplish flowers
uprooting from the narrow strip of grass in which they grew.
The air slowed momentum and began to tug at the earth,
raising the stones from the ground. The earth opened up; a
27
deep, dark hole spread rapidly as more chunks of grass and

dirt flung into heaps around the perfect circle. The night sky
released a harsh, cold rain into the mammoth crater. The
round moon rose high in sky, appearing full and orange. The
sky looked like it was falling, sinking to the ground that rose
up to meet it. Just as the ground looked like it would pop
from the force of the encompassing heavens, a figure shot like
a bullet from the ground.
A hard crash rocked the ground as two massive, tombstone-

sized feet landed on the centuries-old limestone bed. Thick
globs of mud fell onto the being, coating his skin, matting his
hair and long, coarse beard. Heavy footed, thick legs the size
of hearty tree trunks moved the huge, burly body over the flat
rocks. His heavy intakes of breath pulled the petals off the
heather, and as he exhaled with a gruff, grainy tone to his
deep voice, the tiny petals fluttered sadly down to the ground.
Eyes the color of sapphires scanned the surrounding area,
long thick hair obstructing his view. And as his massive hand
shoved the hair from his bearded face, his head tilted back,
allowing the falling rain to wash away the long sleep from his
eyes.
Arms outstretched, the boulders nearby didn’t look as firm

in comparison to his perfectly toned form. He stood in
nature’s shower, allowing the cool droplets soaking his hair
and beard. Off in the distance, waves responded to him,
slamming onto the rocks, and going back out to sea to gather
more momentum just to return to the rocks harder than
before. His thick fingers gripped into his palms, tightening
into two enormous fists. Throbbing bluish veins ran through
his light skin, mimicking the running streams nearby and he
let out a deep, bellowing roar.
28
D. VONTHAER
He stood alone, hundreds of meters tall, staring at his

homeland. The stars still glistened; the soil was still rich, and
the sea pleased at his presence. He was not so pleased. He was
alone. He stood where two others were meant to be facing
him, but there was nothing but vast openness to be seen. The
moon watched him; full, orange and hanging low in the sky.
He looked to it and scoffed that it hadn’t any answers for him.
All was quiet, even the rain paused to see what he was going
to do next. Unclenching his fists, he concentrated, trying to
call someone to him, anyone. Nothing. His wide, long shadow
stained the flat stones under the moon’s light, and he stared
at it, his eyes wild.
He stumped off to the coast, taking long, hard strides, until

he found the water’s edge. The water crept up onto the sand,
as if it were afraid to touch him. It didn’t come high onto the
sand, as it should have, nor did it turn away, it just simply
rolled gently, waiting for his instructions. But, he had none to
give it.
The giant stepped into the icy waters that stabbed at his
skin. He relished the feeling. He felt alive and real, a man
made of flesh and blood. The chilled waters enveloped him
and he walked along the sea’s bed; his huge, bare feet sank
deep into the wet, soft sand. Further he walked until the
water covered his head, and still, nothing. He waited, holding
the air in his lungs before conceding to the sea. Bending his
knees, he shot up from the seabed, the cold water now
making his body numb. Slowly, he tread water, and then dove
back down, only to come back up for more air a few moments
later. Fish made sure to give the giant a wide berth, though
curious. He swam away from The Burren, his stiff muscles
thanking him for the exercise. His hands acted as enormous
oars, propelling him through the water. He swam as long as
29
he could before that old insatiable hunger within forced him

to stop and look for food. Shelter he cared nothing for, but
food was just one of his many great, uncontrolled desires.
He stepped ashore a rocky beach, and the very old, frail

tunic he wore hung off of his thickly muscled body in soaked
shreds. He saw a small, white cottage sitting sad and alone
behind a simmering fire in the garden. Water flew off of his
face in bursts as he stood, exhaling heavily, all the while
watching the flames flicker behind the short white-picket
fence. His body began to shrink. His enormous tunic
gradually started to look like a tarp; his long, broad shadow
shrinking along with the rest of him, albeit at a slightly
smaller pace. His stomach growled fiercely as the scent of
roasted tomatoes and potent onions wafted down the hill
towards his burgeoning hunger. Still standing rather tall at
over seven feet, and very broad, he stepped out of the
clothing, leaving them for the waves to carry back to sea. His
bare feet sank into the sand, and his prints were refilled by
the softly churning waves as he made his way up the rocks
towards the flaming garden behind the quaint cottage.
Once to the top, he stood just outside of the gate, and saw a
woman inside. Her blonde hair was piled loosely on the top of
her head, and her face looked wet, like she’d just come in
from the rain. She turned around, leaving him and the half-
moon shaped window behind. He could see the top of the
woman’s yellow head as she moved about. Her garden was
alight; the plants smouldered in the crisp autumn air. The
chipped green door cracked open, and he moved swiftly from
the garden gate.
The tap squeaked off on it’s own when she turned away
from the window, whispering to a noise in the dark.
30
D. VONTHAER
“Ty?”
She slipped on some old gardening shoes that sat under the
half-circle window in her mud room, and opened the door.
Expecting to see his smiling face, her face sank in
disappointment when there was nothing there. The fire was
dying out, and she knelt down to smooth dirt over the
embers. But then, she heard another noise.
Someone had come through her front gate. She stood back
up and called out firmly. “Ty!” Unsure if she should be sore
with him or grateful he was back, she went through the back
door, talking aloud.
“Where’d ye get off to, Ty? I’ve been in a right state, ye know
how I get when I first wake.”
Her voice was cut off by the sight before her in the small
sitting room. A man, a massively built, totally naked man with
a beard as long as Father Time stood amongst her pink and
green paisley pillows and shabby tea tables.
Unable to speak, let alone scream, Dru tore down the hall
towards her work room, but the hulking man caught hold of
her all too fast. His thick hand slapped over her mouth and he
pinned her to the wall. Framed pictures fell in shatters to the
floor, and she slapped at him until her hands stung. His voice
was deep and growling, and it made her ears itch as he barked
at her. She couldn’t understand what he was saying, fear had
frozen her. Tears started to leak from her eyes. Her feet, still
dirty and cold from walking outside, kicked in vain against his
rock-solid body.
31
Her robe slid open, exposing her bare skin. The intruder’s
sapphire eyes took notice quickly, and it was only then Dru’s
mind kicked into gear. Items from all over her cottage flew
through the air towards the gigantic man. Cups and
candlesticks rolled towards him and smashed into his back.
All it did was make him talk harder, louder, and push so hard
into her mouth her eyes started to bulge. He let go of her
mouth, but instead slid his hand to her waist, making her
frantic.
With the use of only one hand, he picked her up from the
floor, bringing her to his face. Her feet were flailing and
kicking against him, but his grasp was so severe it made the
task of breathing nearly impossible. A long black fire poker
soared through the air with a whistle and just as she felt the
wall begin to give, he let go of Dru and caught the flying
artifact. More items began to fly haphazardly towards him
while the scared witch lay in a heap on the floor.
“Daoine?”
The man grew taller as he spat out foreign sounds.
“I can’t understand you!”
Dru attempted a mix of crawling and running towards the

door, but he continued his garbled verbiage.
“Daoine? Cailleach? Doire?”
The mountainous man continued to grow as his voice sank

deeper, as Dru entered full-on panic. Small sparks issued from
her fingertips as she tried to scuttle from under him, but it
was no use. Snatching her by the ankle, he hoisted her into
32
D. VONTHAER
the air, her flowing robe slid right from her body to cover her
face. Suddenly, a light clicked in her head. She screamed and
scratched, and finally sank her chipped nails into his
muscular thigh.
“I am NOT a hag you bleedin’, ARRGGHH!”
Ominous sounds of splintering wood and shattering glass

made the backdrop to Dru’s sudden revelations.
“Oi! Oi, prick, put me down! I am NOT Cailleach, yeh big

overgrown meastsack! Dru anm dom. Uhh. My name is Dru!
Leave me alone! Stad! Stop!!”
Dru’s sweet little cottage burst at the seams as the man

soared through the ceiling She tried in vain to remember
Irish. The mammoth’s head shoved right through her
thatched roof, tearing apart her home as he grew hundreds of
feet tall. Bellowing back at her, she covered her ears as his
voice tore through the night like an inhuman siren.
The mixture of blood rushing to her head and the sheer

vibration of his voice made her eyes roll into the back of her
head. Her hair finally fell out of her loose bun and waved in
the night breeze. The monster’s huge, log-sized finger
touched her long, waving hair just as Dru’s eyes fluttered
closed, her robe flitting about in the cold wind, whipping
around her exposed, helpless body.
Blurry eyed, Dru groggily woke to a chill being kept at bay by

a fire. The sun was breaking the horizon, and she sat up
slowly until she realised she wasn‘t home. Still in her
bathrobe and covered with a blanket of moss, she pulled a
face and scrambled to her feet. He was here, squatting on the
33
other side of the fire, devouring a fish. By the looks of several

dozen sets of bones, he’d been feasting on fish all night.
Creeping up to a rock, she tucked her feet under her robe to
stay warm. He watched her as he ate, and then tossed the last
of the picked bones to the heaping pile next to him.
“Kidnapping me? Why? Wot do yeh want me for, prick? To

eat me? Bleedin’ hell mate, yer gonna be ralphing soon. That
isn’t like sushi.”
The man looked at her and sucked on his teeth. At least he

was back to normal size. Dru stared at him with wide eyes as
she waited for a response; a grunt, a hand gesture, anything.
He stood up, and she jumped, and scooted off the rock to
walk around the fading fire. He was still nude.
“Puberty was kind to yeh, eh mate? Bit too generous if yeh ask
me. Don’t think I ever saw a knob the size of an arm before.”
She kept stubbing her toes on the uneven rocks. They

walked in a circle around the fire, Dru moving away as quick
as her frozen feet would allow, until he stopped, and she
paused as well.
“Wot’s yer deal? Eh? Snatching me upside down and

destroying my home? Go on, answer me!”
She was livid. And, like a brat she flopped down onto the
stone. He was leaning onto a rock wall watching her intently
while stroking his long beard.
“Can’t speak English? You were speaking old Irish. Called me

a hag. I recognised that much. Git.”
34
D. VONTHAER
A cold wind picked up, whipping around her hair. With her
back to the rising sun, she looked like she had a halo circling
her head, her skin like milk poured into a blue and pink bowl.
He started to grin behind his coarse beard. Plucking himself
from the wall, he walked to where she was seated. Dru stood
abruptly, and again walked around the fire, trying to keep a
wide berth from her kidnapper. As the sun filled the sky, an
explosion of orange pushed away the pink and blue, lighting
up the sea. She had to admit, she loved her homeland, and all
of it’s beauty. Not necessarily the men in it.
“We’re in the east. Where are we?”
Dru started to look around to the rocky hills beyond the flat
beds of rock. The waters were very rough here, not soft like
the beach at her cottage. The landscape was very much like
The Burren in the West. But, she wouldn’t be able to see the
sunrise if that’s where they were.
“Actually, I think we’re on the Aran Islands. Oi! Paying

attention?”
Picking up a small rock from a crevice, she hurled it at his

head. Still standing to the side, his arm raised with a
quickness she’d never before witnessed, and he caught the
rock in his elephantine hand, and crushed it to dust. The man
cleared his throat, and it rocked the small pebbles and stones
at her cold feet.
“Pardon if I offended. Yer not having a husband, aye?”
“Oi! Yeh can speak English! Bleedin’ hell mate, wot’s yer deal?
Coming off like that!”
35
“Have yeh a husband?”
“Wot? A husband? No. Wot difference does that make?”
“Have yeh a child?”
“A child? Uhm, no! Do you?! Mind telling me who the bloody

hell yeh are and why yeh destroyed my cottage and..”
Dru’s voice faded off into the distance; the man bent
forward and blew a forceful gust of breath to put out the fire,
which sent her back and her robe flew wide open to the
November chill.
“Aodh. Yer name, witch?”
“Witch? I’m Dru and you have poor manners mate. Poor
manners. And well, I’m not going to be the one to teach yeh
better but, if Ty were here.”
Dru’s voice trailed off, and she became silent. For the first
time in living memory she had the sense to get quiet as she
wrapped her thin, ratty robe around her frozen body. His eyes
remained fixated on her. Through the mangled beard she
could see them and how they pierced through her.
“Who is Ty?”
Dru’s teeth started to chatter and she began hopping up and

down to gain warmth.
“Ty? He is, uhm, he is a man.”
“Aye. Sorted that out, already. Not yer husband?”
36
D. VONTHAER
“No, not my husband, I already said I wasn’t married you

twat.”
“Aye. Yeh also said yeh weren’t a hag. Yet yeh have neither a
husband, nor a child.”
Dru’s face flushed with boiling anger. Her alabaster cheeks

stained rose as her temper flared. Aodh started to walk away,
up the beach, still totally nude. Dru followed, rounding on
him.
“So, I’m not married and that makes me a hag? Are yeh
serious mate? Have yeh been living under a rock? A woman
can’t live on her own, independent and happy?”
Aodh stopped abruptly, and Dru smacked right into his firm
backside, and fell flat. He hoisted her up by the belt of her
flapping robe, bringing her right off the freezing ground
before sitting her right on her equally cold feet. Leaning down
so his eyes were near hers, she tried to take a step back, but
he held her there, refusing to let her get even an inch of
distance.
“Matter of fact, I have been under a rock, as you say. And

this? This is happy? Who’re yeh kidding, lass?”
Dru’s usual peaceful demeanor changed dramatically as her

mixture of annoyance and fear bubbled to the surface.
“Well, welcome to the twenty-first century, Aodh. Now

women can live single and alone and be perfectly at ease, and
not need a bloody husband to make them complete. So, kindly
piss-off. Cheers.”
37
Dru wrestled her belt from his clenched hand, and stormed
off. Cursing under her breath, she crept over the rocks, feeling
completely frozen, her lips and feet turning blue.
“Twenty-first? It’s been two thousand years?”
Aodh’s voice was actually calm, slightly smoother, and Dru

stopped in her tracks. She turned her head to her shoulder,
contemplating what he had just said. Aodh walked towards
her, and she remained with her back to him, her hair blowing
wildly in the wind, and he stopped just behind her.
“I’ve been asleep two millennia?”
Aodh looked out at the water with an odd look lurking in

those eyes hidden behind the beard. He turned to look back
around at the rocky beach before looking back at Dru. She
was the first person his eyes had seen since he’d been laid to
rest. Honestly, she was quite an easy thing to watch, had her
voice not ruined the serenity of her appearance.
“Two thousand years? Aodh?”
Dru turned on the rock to look at him. Her faded amethyst

bathrobe flapped around in the wind, and she tried holding it
together. Her lips were darkening almost to the shade of her
bathrobe as she stared at him, contemplating the years of
history swelling to the surface of her memory.
“Wot are yeh saying? The legends were true? The Dagda? Yer
him, aren’t yeh? Aodh?”
He simply nodded.
38
D. VONTHAER
“But, if yer here, wot about the rest?”
He shrugged his huge shoulders and went closer to her.

With her standing on the rock, he could actually see directly
into her eyes without having to bend down.
“The rest? I haven’t a clue. Think yeh can mind yer tongue
and help me find out?”
“Help? How? And you know, don’t go worrying about me and

my tongue. We’ll be just fine, if yeh can get me out of this
freezing cold yeh Yeti.”
Getting close to her, his body brushed against hers, and he

pulled her close, turned her head with his thumb and
breathed into her ear. Holding her mane of hair with one
hand, his other hand slipped down to grip firmly onto her
curvaceous hip as he spoke low and growling, his accent
thick, and almost unintelligible.
“I haven’t so much as spotted a woman in two thousand

years. Might suit yeh to keep yer tongue, and all mentions of it,
to yerself.”
On a breath of wind, they disappeared from the spot,

leaving the sun to spill it’s warmth over the rocky coast. Their
feet found warmer, padded flooring, and Dru started sucking
in air as her lungs felt like they’d been raped of oxygen.
“Warn me, next time. Please, yer highness, or wotever it is I‘m

s’posed to call yeh.”
Chuckling, Aodh let her go so she stumbled backwards, and

she frowned at the smell. They were in a barn that housed
39
rows of horses, but she could hear the chickens and pigs in
their pens just beyond the rickety old doors.
“Just Aodh. Nothing royal on me yet, haven’t found the rest of

my clan as it were. Just thought we’d get some coverings,
otherwise my knob’s going to get frostbite ‘fore I can even use it
again.”
Wanting to hurl from the stench, Dru tiptoed around the

hay-strewn floor, carefully minding the floor and climbed up
onto a short step stool.
“Uhm, Aodh? Yer The Dagda, right? Father of all knowledge

and magic? Can’t yeh just blink or fart or something and get us
clothes and shelter?”
Aodh took in a huge breath, and exhaled sharply, shaking

his head a little bit.
“Anyone tell yeh how stirring yer speech is, Dru? Really, yeh
should write a bloody book. I can do magic, got us here, didn’t
I? My powers aren’t full yet. They don’t come back until I re-
enter my world. Otherworld. Until then, I sort of only have
minor magicks right now. Have yeh any knowledge on the
world at all?”
Aodh looked to the young woman pleadingly, hoping she

had an answer, hoping she had some idea of what happened
these last twenty centuries. A pile of sloppily folded clothes
sank into his outstretching hand, and he offered it to her. Dru
looked at them with her lips curled. They were thin, wrinkled,
and made of something resembling dull, brownish rags.
40
D. VONTHAER
“I’m not wearing that. And neither are you if the legends are
true. Did yeh really go round in a tunic barely covering yer
arse, mate? Let yer gigantic knob dig trenches round all of
Ireland?”
He started to chuckle that grew into a hearty laugh that

disturbed the sleepy horses.
“Wot is it they teach these days? Wot will yeh have me wear?
Mating gear like wot you have on? Sorry, love, but I don’t
believe it’s my colour.”
“Git. Watch.”
Dru maneuvered her hands and fingers and spoke softly

under her breath. After a few moments, a fresh pair of denim
jeans and a woman’s jumper landed neatly in her arms.
Looking at him with a grin, far too pleased with herself, he cut
her off, his voice stern and his gaze even more so.
“That’s nicking.”
“It’s summoning.”
“It’s magically thieving someone’s clothes, Dru.”
“So?”
He looked at her astounded. Placing his palm on top of the

stack, he flipped his hand over where an identical set of
clothes appeared. Waving his other hand lazily, the set Dru
stole disappeared. She looked him with narrowed eyes.
“I need knickers.”
41
“Yeh need yer lips nailed shut. I’ll make copies, but I’m not
walking away wearing someone else’s clothes.”
“How’re yeh gonna wear someone else’s clothes anyway?

Can’t possibly fit into anything a normal bloke could wear. Yer
a bit of a beast, Aodh.”
Dru summoned a pair of knickers, socks, and some boots all

of which Aodh copied for her. Then she summoned a set of
men’s clothes, which consisted of overalls and a long-john
type of shirt. Aodh stared at them, looking confused as to how
he’d even get them on. Dru slipped her clothes on, and caught
him watching her from the corner of his eye. She slid the
thick, warm jumper over her head and sat down to put on the
socks and boots, all too excited to regain some kind of heat.
“It’s not going to fit yeh mate, told yeh. Looks like that’s all
he has. No normal denims at all. Here, lemme try to help.”
A long string was hanging off the edge of her sweater, and
she tugged at it a little bit before it snapped. She held out the
strand of burgundy-coloured yarn, shaking it at him.
“Can you replicate this for me? Like, a whole lot of it. Change
the colour if you want.”
A pair of knitting needles appeared in the thin air, and

began working the small string as it slowly began to elongate.
It went from burgundy red to a deep shade of blue. The excess
started to roll into a ball as the needles worked rapidly,
midair. Dru started messing with her hair, attempting in vain
to control it. Soon, the needles stopped working, and Dru
held it up to him, and explained whilst using one of the
knitting needles to twist up the back of her hair and secure it.
42
D. VONTHAER
“It’s an Aran sweater, mate. On the islands, each family had

it's own, unique pattern. They were meant to identify the
fishermen if ever they were lost at sea. I've done it in my own
family’s pattern, and I’ve bewitched it. It'll expand with yer
body, in case yeh ever get to the size of a house again. And, if
we’re ever lost, we can find each other. All yeh need to do is call
my name, and I the same. The knitting will weave us back
together again, like a tapestry.”
Aodh took it, and bowed his head to her before sliding the
sweater over his head. It was rather soft, and very warm. The
overalls were quite snug, even considering they were meant to
be baggy, and far too short. Dru advised him on extending the
length, shearing the straps and widening the legs.
“Almost look normal. We need to get yeh shaved though.”
“Wot? Shave my beard? Why? I rather like it, but thanks all
the same.”
"Yeh look like Father Time, Aodh. Aren’t yeh going to at least
attempt to blend in?”
“In essence, I am Father Time, Dru. Stop fussing, I’ll blend in

perfectly well, lots of blokes my age have beards, woman.”
Dru scoffed and shook her head, the loose pile of hair on her
head shaking with disapproval. She went to the barn door and
peered out. It wasn’t as bright on this side of the island. The
farmers would be waking soon to feed the animals. Looking
back at him, she wondered how shocking it would be for him
to see the world now, so different from how he remembered.
“Men yer age? Oi, cos there’s so many two-thousand year old
men walking about? Aodh, listen, the world has changed, mate.
43
It’s not the way you remember it. Not at all. Yer gonna need to
try and blend in, until we can figure out what’s happened, or
where yer going.”
He fiddled with his new clothes, only partially listening to

her. They felt heavy on his body; odd, uncomfortable,
encumbering.
He made a copy of the black boots Dru was wearing, but sat
down shaking his head at how small they were. A crooked
twist of a grin hid behind his thick, long beard as he got busy
making them longer, wider, rounder, and much taller.
“Is it, Dru? Is the world truly so different? Tell me this. Are
men still killing other men for land? Are women and children
still ripped from their homes for the sake of a few patches of
grass? Are wars not raging for this thing called religion? Are
yeh saying to me that this world so different from the one I
know and recall? Not one is being murdered in their beds for
the gods they recognise to be true, for their beliefs? This
practise has halted?”
Aodh stood and tugged his long beard out of the jumper he
as Dru stared back at him, mouth agape, looking like she’d
been slapped still. He went to the barn door and looked down
at her. His voice got lower; the farmhand was lurking near the
pens. He could hear the animals whinny and trumpet for their
breakfast.
“I’d wager by the look on yer face that not much has changed
at all. Every person believes they are right, and anyone who
disagrees, dies. Unless the other group has more, or promises
more, or nature has favoured them more. They’re never content
with wot they have, there’s always a desire for more. Always
44
D. VONTHAER
want to tell others wot to believe, so that the more that go

along with it, the more it seems like their twisted minds must
be in the right. Now come on, I need yeh to show me some
things.”
He pulled her tight around the waist, and lifted her booted
feet from the ground, holding her snug against him. The barn
door creaked again, and Dru held her breath, preparing to
herself. Just as the farmhand went to open the doors, a sharp
wind stole through the barn, whipping around the harsh,
putrid scent of the horses whinnying within. He eyed the
horses, swearing to himself he heard voices just a moment
before. Yet, there was no one there.
45
Chapter 4
Bosom Buddies
A grand hotel room in the heart of London boasted crisp,

white linens, trays of water bottled in glass, and curtains so
rich and thick, they blocked out all light from the city
bustling far below. The bedroom sat behind doubled white
doors, the bed still neatly made-up, even the chocolate mints
still sat on the fresh, puffy pillows. The other room, a
combination of a sitting room with a bright red kitchen off in
the corner had a couch facing a television that hadn’t been
switched off all night, and two chairs flanking the coffee table.
A soft thud sounded at the door, and Monica Raisi gave a

start. Her honey-striped hair was oily, twisted up into a messy
heap on top of her head, and her eyes were red-rimmed from
a week of sleeplessness. Trumping her way to the door, she
peeked through the peep-hole and opened it with a sigh,
stooped and snatched the morning paper before shutting the
door. Her heart sank at the words smeared across the
headline. She tossed the newspaper to the side and sank to
47
the floor, heavy sobs now filling the room, drowning out the
television that mirrored the newspaper’s story.
The disappearance of Russia's 'Angel en Pointe' has come to a

sad, grisly end. This morning, Paris officials have confirmed the
body discovered by metro police in the River Seine is that of the
dancer Katerina Maximova. The prima ballerina disappeared
from the stage last week during a Halloween Charity
performance, shocking the celebrity-heavy audience and
leaving Russian and Parisian officials at a loss for words. The
investigation led to what appeared to be a political kidnapping,
demanding an obscene ransom for the dancer. Officials say….
Monica stood, sniffing back the tears that had streaked her
face for a week. She had met that girl, she got to hear her very
soft, small voice, and watch her dance like a swan. Monica
had been in the audience, confused as she watched the
dancers look at each other oddly when the fine, gossamer
fabric had been peeled back from the stage prop. A high-
pitched scream made her pulse quicken, and goose bumps to
cover her skin. The blond oil-heiress turned-fashionista
sitting next to her was asking so many questions, Monica
merely held up a hand to shush her. The majority of the
crowd stayed still, waiting, shocked. A thin murmur wove into
the theatre once police and bodyguards swarmed the stage.
Monica had been questioned with the bubble-head next to
her before being escorted back to her hotel.
She didn’t sleep that night, or the following. Her European

tour was about to end with a final show in London. She’d
spent half the summer and early fall playing small pubs and
venues all over Europe. Since the fall of her infamous father,
she had been trying to reintroduce herself to the world as a
singer-songwriter, not just the bubble-gum poptart everyone
48
D. VONTHAER
tried to make her. It had been, until now, the most relaxed
and fulfilling time of her life. She was doing things on her
own terms, in her own way, with nothing but her own steam
to sustain her.
Clicking off the television with hard slap to the button, her
cell rang, and ignored for the fourth time this morning.
Tonight was her final performance before heading home to
New York. Before Halloween, she had been dreading going
home to the paparazzo, the newspapers, her family. But,
something happened to her since Paris, like a tire that lost
some of it’s air, she felt deflated. It showed in her last two
performances when she stumbled over a line in her song
‘Stolen Memories.’ The small, but very enthusiastic audience
in Manchester started to sing along, filling in the gaps her
tears prevented her from singing.
Tonight, she’d be saying goodbye from her London stage

with such heaviness in her heart. Monica saw something in
that girl’s eyes. Something that had been tearing at her since
their meeting, before Katerina was even found to be missing.
Monica couldn’t figure out what it was exactly, but that
something had been keeping her up nights. Her hazel eyes
swelled once more, and her phone rang again, giving her
nothing more than a headache. She took out the battery and
left in pieces on the floor. This was the first time since being
on her own that she wanted to cancel. Not even cancel her
concert, just not show up. Monica wanted nothing more than
to crawl into the bed and close her eyes, close herself to the
world.
She couldn’t stand the quiet for another second.

Haphazardly, she slid on some jeans and a sweater, and
wrapped an exceedingly long scarf around her neck a few
49
times before letting it just sort of drape from it’s own weight.
She snatched her oversized handbag and left her hotel. A line
of cabs were in the front, and a neatly dressed valet opened a
car door for her when she shook her head, and threw on over-
sized sunglasses that nearly covered her entire face. Making
sure to watch for traffic that ran on the opposite side of the
road, she crossed the street and hopped on the next double-
decker red bus that came. Not knowing where she was going,
or why she was going there, she just had to get a breath of
fresh air if she was going to sing later that evening.
The bus stopped again and again, picking up more people

than it let off. She reached into her handbag absentmindedly,
and took a deep burgundy lip pencil, her mind a million miles
away. She drew the pencil over the lines of her lips, outlining
them perfectly. As soon as two mothers boarded with baby
buggies and decided to hash it out for the one preferred seat,
Monica made her exit. This was the nice thing about being
overseas; the anonymity. No one stared at her, no one picked
her out of a crowd. Not like at home where there was always a
camera nearby, and not just of the entertainment sort. She
walked along, the cold November air stinging her face that
grew wetter as her eyes leaked like a faulty tap.
She walked rather far off the high street, the crowds were a
little thinner here. She strolled past small bookstores and
cafés and came upon an old theater on the corner. She
contemplated the black and white film that was to start in
half an hour, when something brushed against her. She
moved to let them by, and a voice spoke in a soft, hushed
tone, with a hint of a familiar accent.
Frozen, only her eyes moved beneath the glasses, watching a

small woman with short blond hair sticking out of her knit
50
D. VONTHAER
hat. The woman took a ticket from the gentleman behind the
glass, and Monica yanked down her glasses at her dainty
hands. Another voice spoke, and this one startled her into
speaking, answering questions that weren’t asked.
“Yes, yes, fine. Thank you.”
“Congratulations on that ma’am. I asked if you would care for

a ticket to our showing this afternoon?”
Monica glared at the man in the glass booth. He had a

vacant expression, and his lips barely moved as he spoke, as if
he was using a recording instead of a real brain with a voice.
His eyes rolled into his head, like he was either bored,
annoyed, or maybe a bit of both. She narrowed her eyes at his
sort of presumptuous, uppity attitude. Suddenly she felt
raring to go. However, she bit her temper when she saw the
little woman beyond the sleek velvet rope disappear behind a
wall. Softening her face, though her eyes were red-rimmed
and burning, she slapped her glasses back on and put on a
grin.
“Yes, one. Thanks so much.”
She took her ticket with a sneer and bolted through the
empty lobby. It was sort of eerie inside. The theatre looked
like it had at one time been a busy theater for blue-blood
daters. It had high, arched ceilings with beautifully carved
scenes and ornate mouldings. Taking a deep breath, she
peered around the wall where the girl had gone; it was the
restroom.
Undoing her scarf, Monica looked around for others, but it

seemed they were alone except for Mister Personality in the
51
glass box up front. Carefully she pushed open the door and
saw the woman washing her hands. She was so small, maybe
five feet tall, and not quite a hundred pounds. She wasn’t
waifish; she had trademarks of excellent posture, toned
shoulders that she held back with a quiet elegance. Even her
feet were turned in an unnaturally rigid manner befitting a
dancer. A ballet dancer, to be exact. Monica walked fully into
the restroom, the door slowly coming to a close behind her
when the woman looked down, as if to hide her face. She
pulled her winter cap down as Monica watched, not sure what
to say.
Standing between the woman and the door, the woman

looked like she was waiting for Monica to move, fidgeting
with her cap and then shirt, and even putting on her coat. She
was such a little thing, she looked like was swallowed by a
comforter. Monica turned to face the mirror, watching her in
the reflection.
“Katerina? Miss Maximova?”
The small woman paused briefly before turning on her heel,

a perfectly executed turn that looked like it could have been
done on a dime, and she tried to get to the door. Monica’s
arm flung out, and a dry sniff precluded her voice. She bent
down, and grabbed the girl by the shoulders, nearly shaking
her as she stared back into Monica’s dark sunglasses.
“Hey, it’s me, Monica Raisi. I know it’s you, I didn’t want to
believe it, I didn’t. But you nearly plied in the damn bathroom.”
Suddenly, she felt like an Amazon next to the dancer. A tall,

gangly woman with poor posture next to a delicate bird.
Slipping off her bug-like glasses, the girl’s huge brown eyes
52
D. VONTHAER
were filled with tears, and the bags she carried under them
could have held both of their wardrobes. Katerina didn’t even
give her time to finish what she was saying as she had hurtled
her little self right at the singer, and hugged her desperately.
Monica’s voice was thick and uneven as she hugged her back..
“They said you were dead.”
“Nyet. I think, I’m just starting to live.”
With that she nearly pulled Katerina off of her feet. Monica
was the first to let go, and being her father’s daughter, she
began to plan. She bent down and looked under the stalls,
and then walked to each, kicking them in, one by one. Just
then, the lights began to dim, and then lit back up to let
everyone know the show would begin soon.
“Okay. I don’t think anyone else is really coming to this thing.

Let’s go sit and figure something out. Go in, I‘ll grab popcorn
and candy. Sit in the first row, on the end, nearest the exit row.
I haven’t been in there yet. But if there are two choices, pick
left.”
“Oh, I don’t usually eat candy, Monica.”
“Are you kidding me? You are officially off your diet. Good
grief.”
Katerina walked out, and after about three minutes, Monica

did the same. She went to the counter, which had been vacant
before, only to see the guy from the ticket counter with the
same straight face, the same lack of charm. Maybe he was
really a robot and he was the first of his kind. Did they just
give him a posh accent to throw everyone off? Snorting to
53
herself, she ordered two sodas, a bucket of popcorn, and a

pack of red string candy. He stood there for a minute after she
ordered, and her foot began to tap impatiently.
“Nothing like waiting til last minute. Movie’s about to start.

And I haven’t loaded the reel yet. Salt or sweet?”
“You do the movie too? Well, look, obviously I’m not ready
yet, so, it’s all good. Snap to it, buddy. Marilyn and Tony await.
Wait, huh?“
“Salt or sweet?”
“I thought I got both, popcorn and some candy, man.”
“For your popcorn, madam. Salt or sweet?”
“For my what? Salt, salted popcorn.”
“I don’t know any Marilyn’s. But I know a Tony. He went to

university with my mum.”
Blinking, she had to think about what it meant to have

sweet popcorn when she caught what he said.
“Monroe! Marilyn Monroe and Tony Curtis! The movie? Oh

never mind, just, go.”
Finally, he got it all together, still going on about some guy

named Tony and his friend as she tapped the counter with her
long, manicured fingernails. Arms full, she went into the
theater and saw Katerina sitting alone in the front, and on the
right, as that was the only emergency exit offered. She sat and
unwrapped her scarf, her neck suddenly feeling fiery. Handing
54
D. VONTHAER
the candy to Katerina, she saw how nervous Katerina looked,

and very pale. After some noise from the back, the film began
to roll, and they sat quietly, waiting for enough noise to
drown them out. They kept looking at each other, almost like
they were trying to remember every single detail of each
others faces. The movie was going, and once Marilyn’s hips
began to switch as she walked on the train platform, Monica
turned, grabbed a huge handful of popcorn and began picking
it at it, a few puffs at a time.
“What happened? You planned it all, didn’t you? I could see

your eyes. I’ve seen that look before. It’s the one like, you don’t
know how you got there, but you’d do anything to get the hell
out.”
Katerina took one piece of popcorn between her fingers and

her other hand played with a dainty diamond cross she wore
around her neck. Nodding with an exhausted sigh, she
popped one piece into her mouth, and smacked her lips a
little while Monica stuck out her tongue.
“There’s no butter on this.”
“No, they only do salt or some kind of sweet stuff in zee UK.
And da, I planned it. I did not plan the girl in zee river. I didn’t
know about that until this morning.”
Dropping her handful of stale, flavorless popcorn, Monica

sat back and took a drink, staring at the movie screen. Both
women sort of chuckled at the flick softly, only mildly paying
it any attention.
55
“Where are you going from here, Katerina? I mean, you’ve

done your hair and all, which is real cute by the way. Do you
have help, a plan?”
“No help, Niki. And my plan brought me as far as eet could. I

might be able to blend in here. I have some money I brought
with me. I’m just so tired.”
“Where have you been staying? Kat?”
“I don’t know what eet came from. You look like a Niki to me,
I’m sorry. Oh, I got a flat, just a temporary flat I pay for in
cash.”
Katerina’s eyes looked sunken, saddened, and completely

drained. Monica watched her a little bit, but had to keep
turning her head away, a little grin sitting crookedly on her
lips at the way Katerina said her name. ‘Neekey.’ She kept
moving the straw up and down in her cup, making it squeak
as she tried to think. Again and again she was looking around
at the otherwise empty theater. Had Katerina been coming
here, or to other theaters to find a warm place to rest, to get
some kind of amusement to kill off another day? Just waiting
for the hours to pass?
She sat down the drink and cleared her throat the way her
father used to when he was about to bark out orders that were
meant to be followed, not suggested. She hated knowing she
was so much like him. Her mother had been so gentle, kind
and sweet. Monica wasn’t so much those things without a
huge effort. Sometimes it disappointed her, but at times like
this she tried to forget where this kind of aggressive, boss-of-
the-world attitude came from, chalking it up to Long Island.
56
D. VONTHAER
“Ok, look. I want you to come with me. Tomorrow, I fly back
to New York. We have to get you out of here. I have my farewell
concert tonight. I hope, no, I think we can do it. Just how
flexible are you, ballerina?”
Katerina’s tired eyes tried to focus, but the darkness and old
black and white movie made her vision blurry, on top of the
fact she seemed to sleep no more than fifteen minutes at any
one time. The red string candy in her lap, she just realised
she’d been munching on it absentmindedly and she threw it
to Monica’s lap. Katerina stood, as if she had been given
direction to do so, and she bent forward. Her nose to her
knees, her feet pressed firmly together, she stayed that way
for a moment before standing.
“Did you mean zee other way?”
Monica’s lips twitched into a sad grin, and her knee started
to bounce nervously. Throwing a long string of cherry licorice
into her mouth, she chomped on it, and pulled at the dancer’s
arm to get her to sit again.
“No, that’s perfect. Okay, listen. I have an idea.”
Her head bowed down to the ballerina’s and they chatted

softly under the music of the film, between bites of stale
popcorn, and slurping sounds from their flat drinks. The
credits rolled, and the lights slowly began to glow,
highlighting the architecture of the old theatre. The women
walked out separately. One went up the High Street, the other
down, both of them choking back frightful tears and the urge
to purge both their snacks and plans onto the cool, London
sidewalks.
57
Chapter 5
Modernising
Midday wasn’t nearly as bleak as the morning. The

impending rain made the air thick, and Ireland boasted it’s
effulgence proudly through it’s unlimited shades of green
coating the surrounding hills. Dru followed Aodh, or for
better terms, was taken by Aodh to a dozen monolithic tombs
throughout Ireland. At each one, he dug his hands deep into
the earth, and stayed still like he was reading it’s contents.
They were at another, and Dru’s stomach growled loudly.

She wandered off to pick wildflowers to stick in her hair.
Slipping a small creme-coloured bud of heartsease into the
back of her hair, she was reminded yet again of Samhain.
Twirling one tiny bloom between her fingers, she smiled
sadly, recalling Ty tucking a daisy behind her ear as they
danced. Once more her stomach growled, and Dru tried to
summon some food when Aodh gave her a disagreeable look.
He stood and brushed his hands free of the dark soil and
59
sporadic slivers of dry grass, his head shaking a little bit, and
pointing towards the water.
“There’s the sea, Dru, no more than a few strides away, and
yer stomach will have all the food it requires. Blimey, see all the
white dots up the hillside? Called sheep, yeh sod. Get food and a
warm blanket all rolled into one, eh?”
“I am not about to eat raw fish, Aodh. Can we just go to a pub

to warm up a little? I can’t think straight being so cold, and to
be honest, I’m knackered.”
“A pub? Think this is a holiday?”
Dru’s arms folded in front of her, the lack of sleep, coffee,

and cigarettes finally too much to bear. Standing firm, she
looked up at him, and decided to get closer, instead of far
away like she usually had to do in order to see his eyes. With a
surprising quickness her hand reached out and took hold of
his long, brownish-blonde beard and she tugged it as hard as
possible. His upper body lurched downward and he called out
in his gruff tone as she rounded on him in a caffeine and
nicotine deprived outburst.
“No, you, you, megalith! I am going to a pub, just you stop me

you oversized prat! I’m exhausted. In case yer memory is as old
as yer arse, yeh kidnapped me in the wee hours of morning,
nearly naked and frozen, and I’m tired. I am hungry, and I am
not eating fish or lamb! I’m vegan! I don’t eat meat, or fish, or
eggs, you twat. Now you can go on and give all the soil in
Ireland a hand-job for all I care, but I’m going elsewhere until
my toes are warm, my stomach is full, and my headache has
gone! But chances are you will still be round so there’s not
much chance of my headache going away, is there!?”
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D. VONTHAER
Dru’s breath was filling the cold space between them, and
her hands trembling from the mix of rage and hunger. She let
go of his beard and turned as fast as she could, stumping off
to find somewhere to go before she throttled him. Aodh
watched her walk away, reminded of a stubborn mule. They
were in the middle of a great, vast pasture with a deep green
hill on one side that slipped lower and lower until it ran right
into the sea. There were no paved roads nearby, no houses, no
signs, and definitely no pubs. Dru walked towards the heard
of sheep littering the hillside, and he chuckled.
Aodh knew he needed some help, someone to guide him to

the answers. He’d found this witch for a reason, and he knew
he shouldn’t really let her get away. In a few of his long, heavy
footfalls he caught up with her, and turned to block her way.
He couldn’t really see her eyes as clearly as she kept turning
away from him, only to have him appear in small whooshes of
air that eventually took her breath. Taking a knee, his face
was nearly level with hers, and he attempted to apply two-
millennia of rusted social skills.
“Dru, I need help. I was brought to yer cottage for a reason,

and I know yeh can help me. Things haven’t, well, they aren’t as
they were meant to be. I just need answers, and I’m not a
patient bloke for them. Understand that?”
Her vibrant eyes stared back at him, her heart-shaped lips

tightly pursed as he spoke. But, she couldn’t really keep it up
for long.
“I want to help you, Aodh. I actually do. I grew up hearing all

these wild stories of gods and an underground paradise. I’ve
had what yeh can call a rough night. All I ask is for a coffee, a
fag, and a warm fire for a bit. Let this all sink in. Wouldn’t kill
61
you to try and adapt either mate, get used to yer

surroundings.”
Aodh’s heavy hand ran over his hair that was as long, if not
longer, than his beard. She’d heard of their stories, their
legends? They lasted through time? Smiling to himself, he
conceded.
“I’d like to know wot it is you know, Dru. S’pose a fire doesn’t
sound too poor either.”
Dru’s lips softened up and started to itch at one corner,

pulling her mouth into a smirk.
“Fine. One condition. Yeh let me cut that mop and shave yer
beard. I‘ll do whatever, so long as I’m fed, kept warm, and yeh
allow me to smoke. I’m cheerful and all, but to be honest, this
witch needs a whiskey and a smoke desperately.”
Grumbling, he nodded curtly. Maybe she was right. It

obviously bothered her enough, perhaps he should attempt to
look as though he could fit in. Before he got the chance to say
his rebuttal, or even stand, Dru lurched forward and
embraced him. Her head found his shoulder as she hugged
him tightly. He stayed still as her embrace got tighter, and he
turned his nose in to smell her wild hair. She smelled like a
bit of lavender and something sweet, but he couldn’t quite
place it. Her voice was muffled a bit from the wind and
embrace, but he could feel her giggle against him.
“Put yer arms around me, Aodh. It’s called a hug. It means
we’re making up.”
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D. VONTHAER
He lifted his thickly muscled arms and wrapped them

around her body, pulling her close to him as he knelt in the
cold grass. He held her firmly and exhaled into her mane that
was beginning to fall from it’s perch. There was something
calming about it, warming, bathing him in a sort of comfort.
His breathing slowed, and grew more at ease whilst Dru
started to wheeze.
“Oi, too tight mate, too tight!”
She pulled away and fought for her breath, leaning over to
hack and cough, her finger wagging at him. He stood up and
patted her back, making her hair shake out of place and
cascade down her back. Dru gave him a look, but said nothing
as Aodh snatched her waist once more. Their feet left the
green hills in the Irish countryside, and slammed hard onto a
paved road in the busy centre of Dublin.
Immediately, Aodh relinquished Dru as he spun around,

trying to take everything in. His eyes were bright behind the
beard, wide with surprise. They darted between the building
and autos, the noisy, bustling people unable to remain still.
This was his home. What had been at one time a land of green
and blue cascading into one another was now sleek and
silvery, and extraordinarily loud. Dru tugged on him, as
people were staring and bumping into him on the street.
“Come on mate, get on with it. We’ll be back for you act daft
later. I need yeh to do me a favour.”
They walked a few blocks as she explained what it was she

needed, talking animatedly. Her hands waved around in the
air, as if she made a gesture with her hands, that would be the
same as seeing a photo of what she was describing.
63
“Can yeh do that, Aodh?”
“Yeh, absolutely.”
“Well, get on with it already! Bloody hell, we’re not getting

younger. Especially you.”
Her telephone landed on the pavement in front of her feet

with a sick crunch from the bell inside. She looked at him,
one eyebrow raised.
“No.”
The kettle upon her cooktop nearly smashed her face as it

soared down the adjacent alley. She thought aloud, offering
ideas as they came to her.
“Wrong. It’s brown and probably in my room, or maybe on

the floor by the door. Oh, try the mud room if that’s not it, or
the back of the couch.”
“Yer a bit of a slob, eh love?”
Household items were crashing all around the alley, forcing

them further and further into it. Dru scooped up her personal
belongings from the street and tossed them into the skip as
Aodh conjured more random items from her cottage. Finally,
he got it right, and her floppy brown handbag fell to her feet.
Just as she bent to pick it up, something whizzed by with a
scratching noise, like metal wheels, and took her bag with
them.
“Oi!”
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D. VONTHAER
Her hand was outstretched but her reaction was far too late.
Aodh snatched the young lad from his skateboard and was
holding him high into the air. Aodh took Dru’s purse and
tossed it into her arms. With only the one hand, Aodh started
to press the young man up and down as coins and other
stolen belongings fell from his pockets, the lad screaming at
the giant man tossing him in the air like pizza dough.
“Hey! Let me down!”
The bloke never got another word out. Aodh sort of flicked
him, not really throwing the way someone would throw a ball,
but more like the way someone would flick a bug. The lad
soared through the air and crashed spectacularly through the
fence. Dru stared at them, speechless, and Aodh casually
walked to her and started poking into her bag.
“Yeh don’t go looking in a woman’s bag, Aodh! Personal space

mate.”
He looked at her nonplussed.
“Then why were yeh wanting it?”
Dru took out a pack of smokes and tapped one out, put it
between her lips, quietly cursing under her breath. She
snapped her fingers, and a single flame issued from her
middle finger. She used it to light her cigarette, but the flame
died quickly, and she started smoking furiously.
“Oi! Dru yeh can make fire?”
She ignored him and his questions, allowing the smoke to

poison her lungs gleefully. Holding her hand up at him, she
65
smoked for a minute as she walked out of the alleyway and

towards the bank a block down. They walked up to the wall,
and Dru fiddled with her wallet as the cigarette hung from her
lips. Taking out a plastic card, she stuck it into a slot in the
wall, and started to push buttons. Aodh watched her cast her
spell and his mouth fell open. She turned with the card,
slipped it and a wad of cash back into her wallet. One final
drag, and she tossed the butt to the pavement and walked
down the street, lighting another one.
“Wot’s that? The slips of paper?”
“Money. We’ll need some so I can get a bed to sleep in. I’m
not staying in a damned barn tonight.”
“You created fire, love. That’s quite uncommon for a simple

witch.”
“I’m not simple, meathead. I’ve always been able to do it.

Funny, I get that reaction a lot. No one else in our coven could
do it, either.”
She blew smoke in his face, and he waved it away. Flinging

her bag over her shoulder, Dru walked down the road with
purpose in each step, taking deep drags and looking around.
Catching his face from the corner of her eye, she tugged at his
beard again, and shoved the cigarette between his lips. Aodh
yanked his face from her grasp and slapped the stick from his
mouth.
“Keep it up and I’ll find a way to attach this beard to yer arse.
Wot was that? Who are yeh nicking from now, and how did yeh
come to those powers? Why didn’t yeh tell me yeh can make
fire?”
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D. VONTHAER
Dru stopped outside of a relatively quiet looking pub. She

felt an ache in her gut as she addressed him, all the while
watching the creaking sign blowing in the breeze; The Sticks
and Bones.
“It’s called a bank, Aodh. And magic like that is called the
modern age. Now come on, let’s eat and find a place to sleep.”
“I meant the fire, woman.”
“Hush. And don’t call me ‘woman.’ For fuck’s sake, it’s like yer
a bloody caveman.”
The pair went inside, and Dru ushered him to a far corner in
the back. It wasn’t exactly easy to keep him under the radar as
he knocked over chairs, tipped tables, and Dru had to keep
muttering apologies until they found a seat. Brushing her hair
off her face, she sat down and shook her head.
“Not very graceful, are we, darling? Stay put, I’ll be right back.
Don’t eat the table.”
Dru went to the bar, leaving Aodh alone to toy with salt
shakers and catsup bottles as she spoke with a man behind
the long, oak bar. Aodh’s chair creaked ominously under his
considerable weight when she came back with two trays, and
the guy behind the bar followed with another two; one with
food, the other with drinks. The bloke stared at Aodh
curiously, and then back to Dru, who gave him a sweet smile,
her eyelashes fluttering like the wings on a butterfly. He gave
her a sly grin before heading back to work. She sat and started
to situate the burgers, chips and sodas between them. Which
really meant she had a plate of chips, a veggie burger and a
diet drink, the rest was for Aodh and his abyssal stomach.
67
“I made arrangements with that bloke. There’s a flat upstairs

we can stay in tonight and get some sleep.”
Aodh unwrapped a monstrous burger from the thick paper

making guttural noises as he ate with huge, ravenous bites.
He drank the dark, bubbly drink that made his stomach flit
around oddly.
“Sleep? I don’t reckon I’ll need much for sleep. Wot’s this
mead? Quite sweet, innit?”
Dru shook vinegar onto her chips and tried to hold back a
laugh as she watched him polish off four huge burgers with
only two bites for each, and now he was looking at a chip
between his fingers like it was an insect.
“It’s called pop, there’s no alcohol in it. I had a rough night of

it. S’pose I should have asked wot yer fancy was? We started
drinking way too early last night, I need alcohol like I need
another hole my head.”
Aodh took the bottle of vinegar and mimicked Dru, but

shook far too hard and a huge gush of the malted vinegar spilt
onto his chips. He turned away with a groan from the intense
scent burning his eyes and nose. Dru laughed, a hearty, full
kind of laugh, and switched plates adding a few shakes of salt
as she continued her musings.
“Oi, switch me. I quite like them soggy like that. I will need
sleep, mate. I’m not able to go on without it, so why the rush? I
mean, wot were yeh expecting when yeh came back? Legends
are so scattered, there’s not much written down is there?”
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D. VONTHAER
Aodh polished off his food, all four servings of it, before Dru
got through even one. She shoved the remnants of her veggie
burger to him and let her soggy cut potato drip vinegar onto
her plate before she popped it into her mouth and then sat
back. She lit a cigarette, and started to take a long drag from
it, staring close at him. So many things were swimming
around in her head, all the stuff she learnt from her schooling.
A thin cloud of smoke swirled around her head as she tried to
see past the thick, grizzly beard and moustache to his eyes.
They still looked quite young. She watched him finish it all off
as she smoked, her thoughts trailing off to another man, with
blue eyes even brighter than the ones before her.
The fag rested between her fingers, the ash getting longer as
tears started to thicken in her eyes. Aodh ate and drank
everything that was left, his stomach making obscene noises.
He sat down his glass, and caught Dru examining him closely,
and just as he was to ask what she was smoking, he saw her
eyes shift. They were a beautiful shade of green. Not like
neon, or grass, not like sage or evergreens, but a mixture of
each hue of the colour. Each and every shade of green had
been meticulously painted onto her irises; some shades more
yellow, other more blue. They were big with long eyelashes
set into fair, flawless skin. He could see pain in them now. Not
like her fear from earlier.
“Wot happened, Dru? To this bloke, Ty? He wed another?”
Aodh’s voice snapped her out of her moment, and she

snapped back, flicking her cigarette into an ashtray before
putting it out roughly. Her hair was looking even more wild
now, her head shaking as she was trying to find a response.
She dug again into her handbag and tossed a few silver and
gold coins to the table before standing up. Aodh watched her
69
flit about in a huff, his eyes following the coins tossed to the
table. He picked one up and saw an embossed harp etched
into the back. Sighing, he put it down and followed her
through the pub and up a staircase tucked away in the back. It
was narrow and winding, and he had to try and slide between
the walls that sounded like they could give way from Aodh's
sheer girth.
Once up the steps, he took a huge gasp of air, and belched

hard and loud, the bubbles in his stomach finally forced to
release the pressure. Dru’s hair was blown into her face from
the force of it, and she groaned loudly, giving him a look of
annoyance that had a hint of a grin behind it. They went
down a long hallway covered in a threadbare rug that ran the
length of the floor until they found their room. It was small
and cramped, with two single beds covered in old handmade
quilts. Dru tossed her bag to the floor and kicked off her
boots, and tried to go further into the room to make space for
Aodh.
“I just want to get you looking more like a normal bloke.

Shower and brush yer teeth, mate, cos, yeh know, damn. Loo’s
in there, let’s do yer hair first.”
Sliding up her sleeves, she started to mutter under her

breath, and she cracked opened the single window in the
room. A set of shears appeared in her hand, and Aodh gave
her a look. She aimed the sharp points right at his chest.
“Don’t. I’ll give them back, Good God, okay? But listen, don’t
ask me questions about Ty, okay. It’s none of yer damned
business. Why don’t you start answering some of my
questions? Hmmm? Now take off yer clothes, let’s get yeh
looking like yer more human, less Sasquatch.”
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D. VONTHAER
Using his fingertip, Aodh tilted the sharp point away and
shook his head,. She was touchy, especially about that bloke,
Ty. Tired of hearing her argue, he stripped off his jumper and
started to undo his trousers when Dru interrupted.
“Not the jeans.”
“Yeh said take off my clothes.”
“Yes, well, I forgot you weren’t wearing boxers. Keep yer knob
covered, it scares me.”
“Blimey woman, get over it.”
Aodh’s jeans fell to the floor, and Dru’s eyes tried to focus
on his long hair and beard. He stepped out of them and
followed her into the bathroom. She ordered him to his knees
and tossed a towel at him to cover up. They were cramped,
and she had to get creative by walking along the vanity and
standing on his legs. She managed to cut it all, leaving a huge
pile of long, coarse hair on the floor. She ushered him into the
shower after first explaining to him how to use it. Steam
started to coat the tiny mirror, and Aodh shed the towel,
making Dru go right back to the bedroom. She flopped down
on one of the beds, lit another fag, and smoked with her eyes
closed. Her voice was softer, lazy, as she spoke to him from
the other room.
“Let me know when yer ready, and I’ll shave yer face close. It’s
better to have the steam and all first, Aodh.”
Her voice trailed off, and she attempted to stifle a yawn. The
room was filling with steam and the scent of soap, the heat
making her face hot. Her overly-full stomach and sheer
71
exhaustion was making her head feel light, and her eyes
closed, the cigarette still in her hand.
Waves slapped the rocks below Dru’s little white cottage and
she tended her garden, digging her hands into the warm soil.
Her hair was tied on top of her head loosely; golden ringlets
tickled her nose as she worked and sweat over her flourishing
garden, full of fresh vegetables. This year was the best that she
could remember for harvesting. Each tomato was superbly fat
and red, each pepper firm, and her sunflowers were taller than
ever. They lined the edge of her garden wall, leaving an opening
just at the gate that led to the uneven steps down to the beach.
Her nose was getting bright red under the sun. She stood,
slapped the dirt off of her hands and looked proudly at her hard
work. Delicately, she touched a sunflower and smiled softly at
it. It was far taller than her now. She planted it during her first
year at her cottage.
Someone was behind her, an old and familiar scent of a man

mixed with sweat from the midday’s sun. The scent of lavender
filled her senses as he undid her hair, allowing it’s layers of
golden waves to stick to her moist skin. He tied the flowery
stem with two ribbons of her hair, and his hands began to
undress her there, in her garden for all the flowers and
vegetables to see. Her thin, flowery dress was hung onto her
low garden fence and she was flung over his shoulder. He
bounded down the steps towards the water, and her eyes
caught the sight of his clothes hanging up on the fence with her
dress. Cool water splashed onto her steaming body and she
screamed from the chill. Her entire body was taken by the soft,
bubbling waves of the sea as his hands held onto her firmly. She
came up for air, smiling and blinking salt water from her eyes
as his hair flung off of his forehead, a deep dimple in the side of
cheek letting her know he was having the time of his life. He
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D. VONTHAER
pulled her closer, and they swam naked in the sea. Later, after
the sun had gone to bed, they were lying by a fire with a blanket
covering her as she laid on his lap, asleep. He nudged her
awake.
“Dru? Wake up.”
Dru sat up like a shot, panting heavily, looking around for

him. She heard his voice, felt him stroke her hair, she could
even taste the salt of the water upon her lips. “Ty?” She was
wide-eyed and dazed. She jumped out of the bed and walked
in circles in the tiny room. She sort of blinked at the man
standing in front of the window as her hands grasped onto his
shirt so she didn’t fall. He turned to her, and her mouth fell
open. He was rather young, with very short light brown,
almost blonde, hair and smooth skin. His face showed off
boyish dimples not unlike the one she had just seen in her
dream. Only this man’s were bigger, deeper, and in both
cheeks.
“Dru? Are yeh alright? Snap out of it, love.”
She sat down on the corner of the bed, and stared at Aodh’s
freshly shaven face. His eyes were very noticeable now, and
she felt hypnotised by them. They weren’t simply blue, as she
had previously thought. There was something in them: two,
tiny globes spinning inside the irises. He knelt in front of her,
and she reached out to touch his cheek. He felt soft and
smooth now his beard was gone.
“I’d have done it for you.”
“Aye. But, yeh were asleep. I put yer smoking stick away.
Almost burnt down the room.”
73
“You know yer actually quite handsome, Aodh.”
“And, yer quite lovely when yer not telling me off.”
Dru couldn’t hold the impending wave at bay. She buried

her face into her hands and the damn burst. She sobbed hard,
the dream felt too real. It had been real, earlier that summer.
She felt like it was really happening, like Ty’s hands were truly
undoing her hair, the softness of her dress, the heat of the
sun. All of it. Aodh peeled Dru’s hands from her face and
hugged her, the way she had done earlier in the countryside.
The flower was still stuck in her hair, wilted and smashed. He
plucked it out of her hair and pulled away to see her face.
Pulling her chin up to face him, he wiped away a rushing
stream of tears from her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes
looked so sad. Beyond sad, destroyed. They usually held a
certain happiness to them, a calmness even when her temper
flared. Now, they were grief-stricken. He lowered his face to
hers, and brushed his lips against hers, kissing her tenderly.
74
Chapter 6
A Case of You
A long black limousine pulled to the rear entrance to a

medium-sized venue; blinding flashes of cameras captured
one long, shapely leg exit the car. Monica stepped out, and
was ushered to a crowd of fans, all vying for an autograph. She
hadn’t originally planned on such a grand entrance. Her
entire tour had been about simplicity, returning to her roots,
stripping away the glamourous persona that was unfairly
thrust upon her.
Enormous round sunglasses covered her eyes from the

flashing cameras as she smiled statically. Behind the smile,
she was sweating. She took a pen from a young girl whose
mum was yelling loudly for everyone to hear, exclaiming they
had waited for the singer in the cold for hours. She signed the
girl’s cd, intentionally slow. The flashes made it nearly
impossible for her to see the faces in the crowd, and she
75
lingered there longer than she had intended, waiting,

searching. The stage manager was in her ear, telling her to
hurry up, and she just kept shaking her head. Finally, she saw
what it was she was looking for. Abruptly interrupting the
loud, vocal mother that was talking over her teenaged
daughter, Monica made an announcement.
“How would you like to come back stage? I think we have

room for five, right? Oh seven? Great! Come on mom, kid,
and..”
She walked along the barrier, pointing to begging young

girls in the crowd. They pushed against the security guards for
their chance, screaming in desperation. Some of the girls were
screeching with such delight, they began to cry and nearly fall
over themselves. Monica went inside, holding hands with one
girl who had come all alone with red hair down to her waist
and thick soda-bottle glasses. The group went inside in a rush,
and the door shut out the screaming fans.
The manager gave the singer a vexing look, but she

shrugged it off and had everyone congregate in one of the
back rooms. She hugged all of the hyper girls, they looked
they had just had a double-shot of espresso. The red-head,
however, looked nervous and remained still and quiet. Their
eyes met, hazel to brown, and the girl started jumping up and
down like the rest. The manager brought in a man with a
camera and a notebook. Niki stopped breathing when they all
gave their names to the man, apparently for the newspaper.
Listening intently, the red-haired girl with the doe-eyes, said
her name was Tess. She bid her goodbyes, and everyone
wished her luck as Niki went to her dressing room to prepare
for the stage.
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D. VONTHAER
Stagehands and assistants came in and out of the room to

bring food and drinks, and allow photographers to get their
pictures. The loud mother was still talking to anyone that
would listen. A rack of clothes rolled down the hallway as one
of the photographers called out from behind his lens.
“Oi, lady! There’s only six. I thought you said seven came
back?”
Everyone looked around and counted heads, looking

confused. The rack of clothes started moving again and the
mother reasoned that one of the girls looked nervous and
must have left. Cameras continued their flashing as the rack
of clothes was deposited in Niki’s dressing room. The door
shut and locked, allowing the star privacy so she could
change. The small, red-headed girl with the thick glasses
popped her head out when Niki started digging through the
costumes. Sighing in relief, she whispered.
“Katerina.”
Together, they tugged at the wig to expose short, bleach

blonde hair. Niki threw the wig and the glasses into a bag as
the girl stripped off her clothes revealing a full length black
leotard complete with black ballet slippers. She slipped on a
dress Niki offered her, though it hung off of her body. Niki
started to run around, and Katerina was reminded of the
night they met. She was the performer that night, the one in
makeup, the one about to run for her life. She sat quietly,
listening to Niki’s instructions as she dressed. She was
reduced to hiding in a large trunk when people came in to ask
questions and fuss with Niki’s hair. Music from the opening
act could be heard back here, but the girls a few rooms over
drowned everything else out.
77
“Were we ever that annoying at that age?”
“I don’t think I vos allowed to speak above a whisper at that

age.”
It wasn’t funny, but Niki laughed anyways. She took a deep

red pencil and lined her lips as Katerina watched, hoping she
didn’t make a mistake. But she didn’t, ever. A knock came at
the door, and Katerina again took her place in the trunk. Niki
cracked the lid open, and spoke fast, sweat beading on her
heavily made-up forehead.
“It’s an hour and a half set. I’ll be back for a break in forty-five
minutes.”
Niki lowered the trunk lid and left her dressing room, her
acoustic guitar slung over her shoulder.
After a few minutes Katerina could hear the soft plucking of

the guitar far off on stage. She crept out of the trunk, and
went to the door to make sure it was locked. As the tune
played, Katerina sighed softly. These wrenching lyrics, she
knew them by heart. She’d listened to this song so many
times, for months. It planted a seed of courage in Katerina.
I’m breaking these chains,

Fall to the floor, crash and burn.
My wrists are raw, my heart numb.
Broken promises can’t be undone.
Kat listened with a heavy heart, humming the lyrics against

the muffled harmony. Some of the other songs Katerina didn’t
recognise, but the crowd seemed pleased; she could hear
hoots and calls over the drum set, and a grin spread across her
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D. VONTHAER
face. She still had over five minutes, but the doorknob started
to twist. Someone was trying to get in, even though the music
still played.
A voice complained about the door being locked and grew

quieter, more distant. Hurriedly, Katerina unlocked the door
then went to the trunk where she hid, awaiting Niki’s return.
The door flew open and a rush of noise followed. People and
voices cluttered everything; she couldn’t make anything out.
Five minutes went by. Another five, and she had trouble
breathing. The trunk was filled with soft clothes and hats, but
not much for oxygen. The voices died down, and she could
hear Niki yelling, and people yelling back at her, and then the
door slammed. Jolted, she tried to maintain her composure,
but her throat was dry. Someone was still there, and if it had
been Niki, she would have come to the trunk. This person was
making all kinds of noise, walking around. Chancing a peek
and a breath, the lid lifted ever so slowly, and she peered out
through the tiny slit. A man was in there, collecting things
from the table and the rack of clothes. He took the rack, and
left the dressing room with it. Katerina opened the trunk, but
didn’t dare to get out of it just yet; afraid he might come back.
Whilst she caught her breath, she tossed some of the hats
and dresses out of the trunk to a pile of clothes that Niki had
worn earlier. Again, the door opened, and she hid in the
closed trunk until they left. This went on every few minutes,
leaving her gasping for breath and trying not to make any
noise. Time was ticking away now, and she laid her head back,
and tried to listen to the muffled music. Even now she could
make out the song. Whilst the other song, Broken Chains, had
planted the seed of freedom, this one, Stolen Memories, had
played the part of the sun and soil, pushing her to maintain
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her courage. As the oxygen lessened, her eyes closed and she
listened to Niki’s faint voice under the strumming guitar.
Portraits lining the mantelpiece,

You’ve stolen them from me.
A thousand smiles.
Presents by the pile.
She’ll never know them now.
Everything was becoming a blur of sounds and sights, and

then darkness until a bright light stung her eyes. Covering her
face, she heard Niki’s worried voice as she was being pulled to
her feet.
“Dammit, Katerina. Are you okay?”
“Da.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Da eez yes.”
Niki hugged her quickly, and started throwing things

around the room in a panic.
“They wouldn’t leave me alone during my break and when I

came in the trunk was locked. I thought, oh gods, I don’t know
what the hell I thought. You need to slow your breathing. We
have a long night ahead of us.”
Monica’s mobile phone rang, and she answered it, frantic

but talking quietly.
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D. VONTHAER
“Scotty, hey. Set is done, I’m leaving. No, tonight. You have
about eight hours. We can’t be waiting for you, okay? Okay.
Okay? Okay, bye babe.”
She tossed it into her bag, and looked at Katerina,

whispering.
“Now it’s time for the real show.”
Monica opened the soft guitar case, and Katerina stepped

into it, sat, and folded her body in an impossible manner. Her
feet crossed in the neck, and her face bent in to her stomach,
her thin arms folded tightly into her chest. On her knees,
Monica kissed Katerina’s head, and zippered the ballerina
into the case. It was bulky, but hopefully no one would notice.
Now, if only she could just carry it like a normal person. She
threw her guitar into an empty hard case, and left it to be
shipped with the rest of her things. Slipping her hand into the
strap, she hoisted the case with a groan, but it fell back to the
floor with a thud.
“I’m sorry.”
A small, muffled voice came out of the bag.
“Don’t talk to me! They’ll think you crazy!”
Steadying herself, Niki picked the bag up again and tried to

hold it as casually as possible. She left the building quickly,
her coat flung over the case as she attempted to look relaxed.
People were hovering and crowding her as she tried to get
through the hall. Not knowing what to do, she rubbed her
nose with her hand, and yelled loudly.
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“Whoo, time of my life! Party party, everybody!”
The people around her looked suspicious, and parted like

the red sea. She crookedly walked outside, and barely gave a
wave to the photogs as she climbed into the awaiting black
car. She wouldn’t let him take her bags, instead stuffing them
into the back seat with her. Touching the case tenderly, she
yelled to the driver in a winded tone.
“I’m not going to my hotel, airport.”
She unzipped the case a little, letting Katerina breathe

during the ride, all the while keeping her coat covering the
bag just in case he could see over the partition. Her phone
rang nonstop, and she answered with as little detail as
possible.
“What? Yeah, I took some money out of my bank account,

what business is it of yours? Yeah well, I’m not my father, am I
Jimmy? Oh I‘ll answer my phone any way I damned well please.
What are you going to do? Put me in a time-out? Save it, I‘m
not listening.”
“This is Niki. Yeah, I already talked to Jimmy, and I’m gonna

tell you the same thing I told him. It’s my money, right? Dad
left it to me before putting on the orange jumpsuit? Yeah, that’s
what I thought, so mind your business, Nona. No, I am telling
you to mind your business. I am a grown ass woman, you think
I can’t tell you where to go and how to get there? Tell you what.
I’ll be in New York this week, I’ll be happy to say it to your fat
fucking face. Oh yeah? Watch me. See you Tuesday.”
After a few more similar calls, they made it to the airport.
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D. VONTHAER
“Go to the tarmac. I’ve arranged a private jet.”
Niki zipped up the case, and got out of the car quickly, not
letting him take her bags. She threw a wad of multi-coloured
notes at the driver, and tossed her bags onto a cart with a
wince. She shakily pet the bag as a uniformed man came
down the small steps of the jet to greet her. The driver
watched all of the action very interested, until he was shooed
away by the pilot. Niki boarded and sat in her seat, and the
man looked at her with a sort of wink to his eye.
“Are you certain you don’t want even one cabin crew member,
Missus Raisi?”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll be asleep most of the time anyway. And it’s
Ms. Raisi, Andy.”
The man smiled at her sheepishly, tipped his hat, and went
into the cabin. Her phone began to ring again. She looked at
it, scoffed, and switched it off. The plane lurched, and rolled
into position for take off. She unzipped the case as fast as
possible, and tried to help her friend out of her compromising
position. Katerina stood tall, stretched her arms and legs,
squatted, then stood to stretch again.
“I’ll be back, Niki, I need the restroom after that.”
“Wait til the seatbelt light is off, hun.”
Katerina sat next to Niki, and belted herself in with

trembling hands, awaiting the light to go off. The plane
gained speed quickly, and the girls hands found each other as
the tip tilted into the air, sending them off into the sky. Both
pairs of eyes watched the seatbelt lights to go off, as if it were
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an alarm to freedom. Finally, the narrow strip of light faded

and they undid her belts with deep sighs of relief. Niki took a
bag from an overhead compartment and handed it over.
Katerina’s eyes remaining wide and unblinking, unsure any of
this was real.
“Here’s some fresh clothes. Put on both pairs of socks, and

the boots. I got the smallest ones I could find. These were from
the junior’s department.”
Katerina took the bag to the restroom and changed, and

came back to have a seat, unsure what to do if she wasn’t
looking over her shoulder.
“Niki? How did you pay for zis? Vot about the pilots?”
Niki’s face was still covered in heavy stage makeup, her hair
was still slathered in glitter and her knee just would not stop
bouncing. Niki started to mess with her hair, and got up to
retrieve some drinks from the compact refrigerator. Looking
towards the door briefly, she poured two glasses of vodka over
ice, and took them back to their seats.
“Vodka okay? The pilots are all right. One guy, Andy, I’ve
known a while. The other one is a sort of friend of the family
that isn’t really a friend at all. The rules are they don’t want to
know. They’ll do whatever it is, as long as they’re kept ignorant
in case of questioning.”
Niki drank steadily, but Katerina took out an ice cube and
popped it into her mouth, savoring the flavour at first,
awaiting the cool water her parched throat was desperate for.
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D. VONTHAER
“The money. When we left the theater earlier, I made some

calls and transferred large amounts from my other accounts.
They were set up by my father before he was imprisoned. The
idea was that it was my money, so no one could touch it, but
that I wouldn’t touch it either. Well, fuck that you know? I
chartered a flight, and bought some silence. The Raisi’s have
been buying their way out of shit for decades. I think it’s about
time one of us uses some of that money for something other
than getting richer.”
Once the cube melted, Katerina sipped on her glass, curled

her leg under her body, and looked confused.
“I’m sorry. I do not know you’re family. I know your music,

but only this last. I never heard the others.”
Nikki watched with a look of amazement on her face.
“Wow. Someone who doesn’t know of the Raisi Family?”
Niki walked back to the bar, and filled her arms with several
small bottles of liquor, a couple bananas, some water, and sat
again. Katerina took a banana and stared at Niki, her curiosity
competing with the alcohol and hunger. She had no idea what
the Raisi’s meant to anyone. Monica tipped a small bottle into
her glass and started talking without taking so much as a
breath, and Katerina dared not to even blink.
“My dad? He’s the big man, the Don, The Godfathah. And all
his little fucking lackeys walk around like his puppets. They’re
all afraid of him. I was the princess. I loved my dad, he was all I
ever really had. When I was little, my mom died of cancer. And
I watched it, you know? I was there when she died. She was so
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beautiful. You used her name tonight, did you know that?
Tess?”
“Well, hers was Tessa but everyone called her Tess. Anyway,
she was just gorgeous. Her hair was so long, it felt like a silk
curtain when she’d hug me. She was the one who got me into
music. She took me to see Joni Mitchell when I was little. And
then she got this fucking disease that just ate her away.”
“One day her cheeks were full and tanned the next they
looked like someone scooped them out, and sucked away all the
colour. My dad was always working. Never home. Never, ever
home. I used to think it was because he had such important
business, you know? And then as I got older, I used to think it
was because he couldn’t stand to see her like that. She got
worse one night, and my dad was supposed to come home. He
wasn’t there. He never showed. She died holding my hand.”
Niki finished off four small bottles by this point. Her face
was stiff, like it was holding back a wall of kinetic energy
about to burst like a dam. Katerina took the last bottle from
her friend’s hand, sat it down, and took Niki’s hand into both
of hers.
“When my dad came home, he said he was stuck. The plane

didn’t land in time. I used to hate flying because of that. I’d
drive everywhere. But then, a couple years ago, I got a break
and had my first record. First song was a smash hit. Huge!
They tried to turn me into a pinup doll, and I let them. I so
wanted away from the weird shit that went on in my life. I
never knew, really. I thought that stuff was for TV. and movies.
Well, the record sold, I was in the studio with every big name
out there. Everyone wanted a piece of the new girl.”
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D. VONTHAER
“Honestly, too many chiefs on the second record. But anyway.

It was being edited fifty different ways, no one could agree on
anything, and the label put it out early. Then my dad was
arrested. Charged with murder, among other things. I stayed
by his side. I told them! No way! Okay, maybe the tax stuff. But
murder? I was there, in the courtroom. The lawyer, this slick
fucking fancy lawyer goes and asks him, ‘Where were you on
the night of..’ And I couldn’t feel my face. My dad sat there and
lied through his teeth. He said that he was home, with his wife
on the night she died. And that’s when I knew. He killed that
man. That’s why he wasn’t there for my mom, he was too busy
getting blood on his hands for twenty-fucking-percent. Twenty
percent!”
Niki’s hand laid limp in Katerina’s and she looked out of the
window, watching the top of the clouds like they were a
silvery screen, replaying an old, well-known film. Her eyes
had been filling with tears, making Niki’s green and brown
eyes look like rippling glass.
“He’ll be in prison for life. My record tanked, everyone was all

over me about this trial, radio stations burned my albums, my
label dropped me. I was the murderer’s daughter. I got into
some bad shit for a while. I was born into bad shit, but that
stuff was just, hard.”
Katerina looked confused, and Niki seemed to change the

subject, without really changing the subject.
“Even worse, he’d set up all these funds in my name when I

was a kid. There’s so much money, but I’d never touched it.
Until today. The paparazzi following me was one thing. But
now I have cops and feds on top of it, but they’re nowhere near
as bad as my uncles. Well, not really uncles by blood, more like
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related by money. And you know how they say blood is thick
than water? Well, money makes it all flow; blood, water,
everything. And I spent a hefty sum today, that’s what all the
calls were about. I don’t even know where that money came
from, and I don’t care. Legally, it’s mine.”
“They won’t hurt you, will they, Niki?”
“Me? No way. Too many people watch everything I do.

Besides, if I die, the money goes away. I made sure of that the
day he went to prison. But they sure are pissed right the fuck
off. What about you? The day I met you, I knew something was
up. What’s your deal?”
Katerina neatly folded her banana peel and put it into a

square napkin. She wasn’t quite as verbal as Niki, and it took
much more for her to find a place to begin. She kept looking
away, and down again, her eyes burning from years of tears.
Finally, looking up, she tried to find a way to start, but Niki’s
head was back, her mouth wide open, and her eyes closed.
She had fallen fast asleep. Katerina sighed softly, almost
thankful she didn’t have to say anything, yet. Her head fell to
the seat, and she stared at Niki as she slept until her eyes
closed too, and her body relaxed for the first time, possibly
ever.
Katerina woke to Niki buckling her belt for her, and she sat
up groggily, trying to gather what was happening.
“It’s okay, we’re making an emergency landing. Not really an

emergency, but flight control will think it is. Andy’s going to
have an allergy to peanuts in about five minutes.”
“Allergy? He could die!”

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D. VONTHAER
“He’s not that allergic. He’ll be fine.”
Katerina’s voice couldn’t force it’s way through her throat.

She could hear panicked voices from the front and she started
to shake. The plane began it’s emergency descent, and her
ears popped, all the while Niki’s eyes remained closed. She
took the ballerina’s hand, and the ballerina clutched the
diamond-encrusted crucifix around her neck as they dropped
below the clouds, until the ground became larger, closer, and
the tires pounded hard onto the cold earth. The plane
bounced, lights flickered, and Niki started cussing as they
slowed down, until finally coming to a halt. Niki unbuckled
her belt, and then did Katerina’s only because she couldn’t
quite move. She remained frozen in her seat.
“Katerina? Come on, you have to move, quick. Get up, come
on sweetie. Fuck.”
Katerina stood, her legs feeling weighted and stiff. Niki

started tossing thick layers of clothes over her head, and
offering instructions. Her ears felt heavy, her hearing plugged
as she strained to understand what she was being told. A
thick black winter coat was thrown onto her, along with
gloves, a hat, and a bag was strapped onto her back. She
followed Niki to the exit door, and stepped down, tugging on
her ears to try and get them to pop. Twin lights came from a
line of tall pine trees nearby, and Katerina tried to retreat,
Niki shaking her head and pulling her all along the way. A
four-wheel ATV pulled up to them, and Niki ushered Katerina
onto the back.
“This is Scott, he’ll get you over the border to Maine in this
and then you two will drive to New York. He’ll get you situated
in an apartment, and I’ll get in touch with you in a couple
89
weeks. By Thanksgiving. Okay? Okay? You’re safe, I’ll keep you

safe. Promise.”
The man on the four-wheeler turned around, lifted his

helmet and smiled to Katerina; he had smooth bronzed skin
and deep brown eyes the shade of espresso. Katerina nodded,
still pulling her ears from under her hat. Niki pulled her into a
heavy embrace, and then kissed the man on the cheek, her
words muffled. And with a lurch, they left into the woods,
sinking into darkness as Katerina held on to this stranger,
listening to the woods as if she were under water. Niki stayed
behind, watching her friend fade away.
90
Chapter 7
A Moment in Truth
Dru fell into Aodh’s kiss for a moment, her wet eyes soaking
their faces. Lips parted, they shared breath and warmth that
crossed over their salty palates. Her eyes closed, making her
eyelashes flutter against his newly shaven skin. She made a
soft noise, and his hands cupped her face, pulling her close.
Just as their tongues met, she pulled away, and put her head
down.
Aodh’s mind was spinning fast, like being in the center of an

amusement ride with flashes of blurry film speeding by. He
didn’t say anything, and Dru just mumbled into his chest,
shaking her head.
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I just..”
Aodh attempted to quiet her, his mind wouldn’t stop the

flashing and spinning, and he had to close his eyes to try and
slow it all down. What had she done to him? A simple, natural
91
witch like Dru couldn’t possibly. However, it seemed like she

didn’t even know she had done it. Her lips to his, her tongue
tasting his, she peeled apart his mind, and dumped images
and information into it like a rubbish bin. Scattered bits of
knowledge, unclear faces, and a thousand voices cluttered his
head and didn’t cease once she pulled away. Though, he could
now distinguish her voice from the others. He opened his
eyes, and tried to focus on the room again, pushing these new
inhabitants to the far reaches of his mind. Dru had offered
him a view of her version of history, as she knew it to be true.
It wasn’t laid out and clear like it would have been from a
proper druid. Yet, it didn’t appear that she had known. Who
was this witch, after all?
Aodh pulled her face back up to his, wanting to kiss her

again, wanting to know more. But if he mentioned it, she
could lose this gift. His curious mind was begging to put the
puzzle together instead of letting it spin out of control.
“Don’t apologise. But I do have a question.”
“You always have a question. Wot?”
Dru managed to face him with a softer look on her face, and
she wiped her tears away with her fingertips, wondering what
he could possibly want.
“Wot’s that thing on yer tongue?”
She giggled, and covered her face for a second. Swiping her
hair away from her face, she stuck out her tongue, where a
small silver butterfly rested.
“Oi, wot the bleedin’ hell is that?”

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D. VONTHAER
Aodh reached out to touch it, but she smacked his hand
away and fell back on the bed with a yawn.
“It’s a tongue ring. But, like my purse, that is a no touch zone.

Yeh can’t just go fingering my mouth mate. No manners at all,
blimey.”
The sky was dark now, and she rolled off the bed to head
towards the loo.
“I think we’re done for today. It’s dark, and I’m just not up for
the ruins. I’m going to have a bath and maybe we’ll go have a
beer and relax a bit for tomorrow.”
Aodh stayed there, on his knees, his head still on fast-

forward as Dru went to bathe. Getting to his feet, he felt
dizzy, and completely out of sorts. She did this, but it didn’t
seem she had known. Not at all. The power was there, which
is what confused him the most. She had the power, but
neither the knowledge nor the control. He sat on one of the
beds, closed his eyes, and tried to make sense of the things he
saw. He attempted to slow things down, but the slower it got,
the more personal the memories became. He could see Dru
looking at her reflection. She was very young, a child. Only
her vibrant eyes told him who the girl was in his mind. Her
face was marred in blotchy redness, marks of hands
emblazoned on her cheeks. The adult Dru came out of the
loo, and he stood up suddenly, like she had caught him
snooping in her diary.
“It’s been two-thousand years since you’ve snogged a

woman?”
“Aye.”
93
“Hmm. Guess it’s like riding a bike.”
“Wot’s a bike?”
Dru smirked to herself, and went back to the loo to finish

dressing. They went down to the pub, which was much busier
now dinner hour was over. Dru lead him to the bar, where she
scooted into one of the seats, but Aodh just stood next to her.
Television screens hung on the walls, and Aodh watched
them intently, confused about their pictures, yet sort of
understanding some of it. People were chattering, even Dru
made eyes again with the barkeep, and Aodh peeled his
attention away when she touched his arm with a cold beer.
The bartender tried talking to him, making small talk about

Aodh’s considerable size and asking if he was new in town.
Dru slammed her glass to the bar and yanked Aodh to the
small dance floor. Problem with a bloke of such size and
weight like Aodh, is he doesn’t move easily, and she had to
step on his foot three times to get him to move.
“Should’ve kept the beard, at least I could have gotten yer

attention.”
Old rock played, and Dru’s arms raised into the air, and she
turned around, swaying to the music. Aodh sort of stood
firmly as Dru bounced around and her hair whipped around
wildly. She took his hands to her waist, and put one of her
hands onto his shoulder, pulling him down so she could talk
to him.
“We should say yer from the Aran Islands. They still speak
Old Irish there. It’s the only place left. No one will question it.”
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D. VONTHAER
Aodh just nodded to her, but was listening to the music,

marveling how intricate it was to the ear. Even as songs
changed, the instruments sounded like strumming, and
picking the way one would maybe do a harp, but the tone was
entirely different. And the layers of voices and melodies were
soothing, interesting, coating the spinning feeling his head
had been feeling since kissing Dru.
That night, they collapsed into their respective beds after

Dru finally had enough to drink. He knew this was the case
when she could not stand up on her own. Whilst she looked
like she was having a good time on the outside, he’d catch a
sad look upon her face, just before she’d bring a drink or a fag
to her mouth. He knew then that he had to go slow with her,
even though patience was not exactly a virtue.
The days went by with trips around Ireland; Dru offering up

her version of history as Aodh listened intently. At times, he
wanted to sneak another kiss to see if he could straighten up
the memories she’d already left at his doorstep. However, he
didn't. He could hardly find a moment without her speaking
to even make an attempt.
The nights were spent usually at a pub, having a drink as

Dru attempted to bring Aodh into the social classes,
introducing him to modern marvels such as television and
remote controls, human public transport, and a new land
called America. They stared at at a poster hanging on a wall
outside of a travel agency, and Aodh pointed a thick finger at
it, giving Dru the impression he'd begin to grunt soon.
"Why's it look so sad? Yeh said it was called the 'Promised

Land' aye?"
95
"Promise Land, mate. Well, it's not sad, exactly. Well,

actually I suppose it is a bit cos of wot happened, and all. Quite
devastating, really. Erm, do yeh know wot an aeroplane is,
Aodh?"
Aodh shook his head no, and Dru let out an exasperated
sigh. She touched the poster sweetly, and spoke as if she were
alone.
"I went once with Ty. I never knew why we'd gone, it made no
sense really. He was off doing something, I thought it was for
work, but I don't know wot kind of work he did."
Aodh listened and watched her touch two tall buildings in

the picture softly, wanting to make sense of where her head
was going.
"Yeh didn't like it?"
She turned to him, her eyes looked like they were someplace
else.
"Hmm? Oh, I liked it. Loud, it's quite noisy there. Food was
quite good though, you would love it. Everything is huge; tall
buildings, huge meals, unlimited drinking and dancing. They
call it the city that never sleeps. Just like you, Aodh."
He smiled a bit, and saw the same look in Dru's eyes. They
were shifting again, going beyond a look of thought, or even
sadness.
"So, if yeh were to go anywhere in the world, where would it

be, Dru?"
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D. VONTHAER
"Egypt."
Dru answered before Aodh could finish his thought entirely,

and he noticed the sparkle in her eyes came back full force.
"Really? Why's that?"
"Cos my gran didn't like me talking about it. She always

mentioned Egypt with a sort of reverence, or maybe it was a bit
of fear. She said it's magic was like ours, but opposite. I never
knew wot she meant by it, and I always wanted to find out.
When I'd ask about going, she'd give me a look like I was trying
to nick the very breath from her lungs. I really do hate people
telling me 'no.' But, I especially hated her telling me no cos it
usually meant I'd love it."
"So, yeh never went after all?"
Dru shook her head, a distant look drawing over her face.
"No, never did. I don't know why. One of them things I guess."
Dru looked at him, and cocked her head to the side, staring
at his face like she was reading a book, or perhaps being
shown some kind of instructional video. Aodh looked behind
him, and then back to Dru and arched a brow.
"Wot?"
"We need to go tonight, Aodh. I've had an idea. Fucking hell,

why hadn't I thought of it before. I swear my mind has been on
lock down. Of course. Come on, I need yeh to take us
somewhere."
97
She took him to Trinity College. Or better, he took her once

night fell. They silently appeared in the middle of the night;
Dru whispering excitedly about what she did know.
“Leabhar Cheanannais. The Book of Kells. It was written

around 800 bc. It’s known as Ireland’s most noted treasure,
mate. Four Christian gospels have survived, but they only
display two at a time. One page of text, one of the art. It’s quite
delicate, and obviously beautiful, but it seems to have been
made for aesthetics, not for accuracy. I learnt about it when I
was being schooled. I snuck away from home and followed a
real class here. If my gran thought it inappropriate, I wanted to
learn about it.”
Dru pointed out different masterfully applied sections of the

art as she spoke, and Aodh listened with rapt attention.
“Here, Aodh. Look. Lines were left blank, translations are

incorrect, and some passages are just not here. Why go to such
trouble, yeh know? I mean, it’s stunning, innit? The work
involved to make such a beautiful gem, and they couldn’t
translate properly?”
Aodh summoned the other folios so they could peruse them

properly. He stroked Dru’s hair as if petting a cat, extremely
pleased by this bit of information. He wanted to know more.
Dru wouldn’t even sit as she turned the pages, looking like
she’d waited a lifetime for an audience.
“The way I heard it, is that the population was thinning then.
People were following this news of a new savior, and turning to
the newfound religion. Wars were raging; druids and magic-
folk were being caught, tortured, and killed. Some began to
change their beliefs in fear. Bargains were struck, and deaths
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D. VONTHAER
dealt. Many of those monks and newfound followers only did

what they thought they should to protect their families. Some
made quite certain to keep their true beliefs hidden, but known
to those capable of the language. Not Gaeilge. A language only
known to the druids, who have no surviving texts. Here, look. I
think this is the best example.”
“Matthew 10:34b should read, ‘I came not to send peace, but

the sword.’ But the manuscript says gaudium, which of course
means joy, not gladium, for sword. So it translates as ‘I came
not only to send peace, but joy.’ Quite a mistake to be made for
a brilliant piece of art, don’t yeh think?“
Dru stopped speaking, almost breathless, like she couldn’t

believe Aodh, of all people, could understand her fascination
with the book. And he did understand, entirely. Too much,
actually. He realised he cannot fight his way in, it’s not made
that way. He could brandish any form of magic possible and
Otherworld would remain quite closed, even to him. But this
was not it’s primary meaning. He needed not only one, but
two. A pair to accompany him. He assumed he’d have the pair
when he awoke. Now he knew, me must have them.
They left Trinity College, and Aodh had to ask what was
tormenting his mind.
“Why haven’t yeh ever wed, Dru? Yer lovely. Bright. Don’t yeh
think of having a family?”
She didn’t look annoyed really, just a little sad, like what she
was about to say was so very true.
“Aodh. I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again. Marriage is for fools
who think they are in love. Love that lasts a while until yeh
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decide yer not in love anymore isn’t what I call ‘Happily Ever
After.’ I don’t know. Seems all the blokes who claim to have
loved me do for a while, until the things they loved are the same
things that tear us apart. I won’t change, and I don’t want
anyone to change. There’s no such thing as perfect. I have
tattoos and a piercing, I wear daisies in my hair and have a
tendency to want to up and go for a drive round midnight.
Blokes seem to like it for a while, until they want me to take out
the piercing, remove the ink, and have tea on the table at six
sharp, their shorts starched, and make nice for their mates.”
“Honestly, I think I fall in love too easily, cos I don’t care if

people aren’t perfect. I s’pose I get disappointed when they
expect me to be, and find out they never really loved me at all.
Wot about you? Are the legends true? Have an affair, or a
bunch of affairs? Children from other women? Heard you were
a right womaniser. So? Wot of it? Never met a woman who
couldn’t be ten other women at once?”
Aodh gave her a look, like he‘d been caught misbehaving.

She was right. Apparently his misdeeds traveled all the way
through time to haunt him.
“Never have I claimed perfection, love.”
“No. I guess not. And I never claimed I want my husband to

father my child, the neighbour’s, and that new lass down the
street. Besides, the men I tend to fall for tend to also be the
ones I should smack rather than shag, anyways.”
“Yeh mean like Ty? He wasn’t a good bloke?”
Dru had no sooner than lit a cigarette before she flicked it

angrily, and started walking down the dark, antiquated street.
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Shaking her head, she slipped on some gloves and tightened

a scarf around her neck. With her head down, she fought back
the tears that welled against her will in her eyes.
“No. Ty was decent. Guess that’s why I’m so.. Bent.”
Aodh went to her and played with the long scarf around her
neck. He really wanted to know about this bloke Ty, but he
learnt that Dru spoke far more if she wasn’t being
interrogated. The sorrow in her eyes was so, very real.
“What do yeh do when yer down, Dru? Wot makes you

cheerful again?”
Dru looked up and him, giving this question some thought.
“I don’t know, usually I get something cut, pierced, or

tattooed. Why?”
“Fair enough. I don’t think I want anything cut, and I can’t

think of an image I’d want emblazoned on my flesh for the next
five centuries or so. Want to take me to get my tongue
pierced?”
Dru laughed hard and loud, her voice echoing off the walls
of the buildings. It was infectious, making him chuckle along
with her. He really did like to hear her laugh.
“Wot? Why?”
“Thought it’d be fun. Besides, yer quite a good kisser, figure it

a talisman or something.”
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Dru laced her arm into his as they walked, her laugh starting
to hurt her stomach as she tried to speak.
“Aye mate, yeh could give half the blokes on the island
lessons, trust me. Surprisingly gentle for a caveman.”
“Guess I haven’t lost my touch. Excellent.”
The following day Dru took him to another part of Dublin,

where they sat under bright, fluorescent lights in a shop. She
stood back as the bloke stood in front of Aodh to do the
piercing, unable to see properly by sitting. Dru winced the
entire time, waiting to hear his gruff voice call out. Aodh
didn’t make a noise at all, but Dru jumped at the sound of the
piercing gun. The guy started talking a bit, and Dru tried to
peek over him for a look. He walked out of the room, Aodh
stuck out his tongue to show her his new piercing as she
leaned in to look closer.
“Blimey, not very swollen is it? That stone is beautiful, did he

have that here? Wot is that?”
She was close to his mouth as she inspected the shining

stone. It was clear as crystal, but inside there was a flow of
fiery orange that appeared to move like a tiny wave. Aodh slid
his tongue back into his mouth to answer her in as much of a
whisper as his grainy voice would afford him.
“I call it tinestone. Found it in my beard when I shaved it off.

Came in handy, eh?”
“Tinestone? Ah, right, stone of fire.. It’s remarkable. Looks

like it came from the center of Earth. No wonder yer mouth is
so warm.”
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She was so close, he could smell her sweet breath on his

face, and almost read her thoughts as she exhaled. The
temptation could no longer be held at bay, and he pulled her
to him, and kissed her. This time, instead of merely enjoying
the tender lips of the woman, he worked a small spell to try
and organise it all. Before, Dru had pulled away quickly, but
this time she lingered there, caressing her lips on his as he
siphoned every memory he could. The bloke came back in,
and parted them, scolding them both for snogging with a
freshly pierced tongue. Aodh ignored him, and pulled Dru
swiftly from the shop, but he had to pause on the sidewalk
just outside. He couldn’t think properly with so many people
bumping in to them; the noise of autos and voices and phones
made his already fraught mind worse. He dragged her to the
side of the row of shops, hoisted her up, and took her to the
middle of the peace and quiet of the Irish countryside.
"Why do I see this place when I kiss yeh?”
Dru was staring at him, breathless and confused. She looked

around, realising they were standing on top of a lush mound
of dirt and grass encompassed by a wall of white quartz was
surrounded by stones carved with ancient, megalithic art.
“It’s Newgrange, mate. Why did you kiss me again?”
Aodh turned, listening to the ground speak to him. He was

barely listening to her now.
“When we kiss, I see things. Flashes of images, sounds,

voices. I can’t quite make it out. They call it Newgrange? This
here, is sí an Bhrú. This, Dru, is a passage to Otherworld. One
of them. I see it when yeh snog me. That bloke, Ty. Wot kind of
a man was he?”
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“I told you not to question me, Aodh! I don’t need to rehash

each and every prat I’ve come into contact with.”
“Come off it, Dru. Cut yer shite now. I can see it. But why I
can see is the real question. Yeh should be able to make it
clearer if yeh possess such a power. It’s scrambled, it’s so
disorganised, nothing makes sense.”
Dru glared at him and the mound of grass and dirt under
them, racking her brain for an explanation. Ty had been such
a different kind of man. He was so organised compared to her
funky, shambled ways. She was laid back, though she also had
such a short temper, which one wouldn’t think would be true.
Ty was controlled, never losing patience, calculating,

purposeful in everything he did. He spoke in a deep, smooth
tone that could lull her to sleep. He’d read to her by night,
sometimes reciting old poetry he knew by memory. She’d
doze off in his arms and feel like she’d had the best rest of her
life, day after day. He knew magicks as well. Old magicks not
practised by many. She thought him a sorcerer, who was
anything but common at all. He never said, not even when
asked. She tried to say something to Aodh, but her head was
feeling full. Too full, like things would begin to spill out of the
spaces in her skull.
Aodh went to her and picked her clear off the ground. He
put his lips to hers, and again the mound came into his mind,
but Dru pulled away from him. His eyes narrowed at her, and
she gave him an equally scorned look and sat her down. She
was so stubborn. He got to his knees so he could be face to
face with her, reason with her, force if necessary. He just
began to speak when she wrapped her arms around his head,
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and kissed him deep, and purposefully. This time she had
kissed him, not the other way around, offering her lips and
breath and mind for Aodh to explore. A flood of activity swam
from her into him, filling the vacant places of his mind. His
face felt warm, and then his throat, like he was swallowing
hot tea on a freezing day. Dru began to tremble, all of the heat
of her body transferring to Aodh, and he pulled her close,
keeping her safe and secure in his arms as her lips worked a
new magic on his.
Exhausting her energy, they parted, and Dru’s head fell

back, her face looking upwards and Aodh was nearly
breathless. Pulling her face back to him, he put her cheek to
his, steadying what it was he just took in. He fell back a little
to the raised mound, and caught himself with one hand, but
ripped it out of the ground like he’d received a shock. Dru’s
face was pale; all of the peach tinting was far removed, and
she was quiet, stolen of speech. He turned so they were side
by side, on their knees, facing the mound of grass that had
been invading his visions. Aodh’s hand guided hers into the
cold, nearly frozen earth, but they slid in as if it were no more
than mud.
Dru’s hand linked to her mind to her eyes which became

large and unblinking, drinking in each moment as if she'd
never see it again. Scenes of fire and destruction flashed, a
war was raging before her. Bodies and debris littered the floor
of some ancient, cold castle. Stone walls and armored suits
made everything appear grey and dull, except for a sliver of
green shining through thin, arched windows far off in the
background. Stains of red splattered nude, fatally wounded
warriors, still holding on to their weapons.
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Great, fat tears spilled onto her face as she watched faces
and bodies flash in and out of view. Before she ever saw it
happen, she knew what was coming. She began to shake her
head, trying to prevent the image from invading her mind.
Wanting to prevent it. If she didn’t see it, maybe it wouldn’t
happen. But, it was no use. As if in slowed motion, she saw
him. Front and center amongst other warriors; men and
women alike, was Ty. He stood tall and bare-bodied, his hair
slicked back and pale, sword drawn, his mouth moving
slowly. The enemies moved further into the home, getting
closer to those thin windows.
Bodies from both sides fell with horrific crunches, drawn

out cries, and pools of blood coated everything from the
armor to the stone slabs. Ty had a look in his eyes Dru never
really saw before; a determination, but a kind of sadness too
that made her feel sick. It wasn’t fear. He never looked afraid.
Smoke began to cloud the scene, a fire was burning orange,
making the blood and sweat glimmer on Ty’s vacant skin.
There were only two left; Ty and his opponent. She screamed
his name aloud so that her voice echoed menacingly from the
surrounding hills, trying to warn him, as if her voice alone
could stop what she knew had already happened. A short,
thick sword penetrated the center of Ty’s chest, as his long
silver blade swiped away the head of his enemy in the same,
final beat of heart. Ty’s deep, smooth voice called out
something in his final breath and Dru started talking back to
him, pleading with him to stop it, to live.
The scene filled with fire, burning her eyes as it ate away the
bodies lying in within. Dru was shaking, sobbing, and she
wouldn’t pull away from the mound. The scene cleared of all
the dust and battle, and not a soul alive or dead could be
seen.
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D. VONTHAER
Aodh couldn’t be sure which was worse; watching the

remains of his descendants perish before him or Dru’s
reaction? This happened the night he had risen. He could see
the bright orange moon casting it’s light through one of the
narrow windows, a cluster of stars peeking through the sky
under the full moon. Once the scene became still, Aodh
forced Dru to rise. She had to leave with him, now. She looked
like she’d become sick. Aodh pulled her close, and forced her
body to follow him out of there.
They arrived in a limestone laden land known as The

Burren. He had little time to mend Dru, she seemed weak and
irreversibly downtrodden. She didn’t know what was
happening to her. Her body seemed to not be hers alone any
longer. It was as if she was being penetrated, right through
her skin and bones by something, changing her. She feared it
was a daemon; her mind was becoming unclear, fogged by the
images she had just witnessed. She released herself from
Aodh’s grasp and fell to the hard ground. She laid frozen,
staring at a piece of gray slab, thinking it was a mirror.
“Dru? Can you hear me? Dru? Yer not well.”
He took her face in his hand and turned her to face him, but
what he saw staring back was startling. Dru’s eyes weren’t the
same vivid green ones he had known. Instead, they were
reflecting a grey, cloud-covered sky. He called her name and
shook her, but her eyes remained still.
Dru was growing weaker with every minute that passed. Her
insides felt freezing cold, but her skin was on fire. She was
barely coherent. She couldn’t get her mind to stop whirring,
flashes of images and mingled feelings of fear, despair and
simultaneous triumph were making her dizzy and
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disoriented. She had to lie down, or wretch, or remove her

skin, which was now burning to the bone. Aodh spotted a
very old, tall, crooked stone tomb, and he carried her there.
Dru’s stare became blanker, her face more of a light shade of
grey and she began to burn white hot, but her fast breath was
getting cooler.
She had just witnessed the demise of Ty, and the remaining
deities of the Tuatha De’ Danann. And by weeping for him,
she had set his spell into motion. Dru was becoming a druid,
taking on magical powers of such a renewed strength, she
would never be the same witch, or woman for that matter.
Aodh understood it all when Dru offered her kiss to him. Ty
had been reading and reciting poetry to her, teaching her
without Dru ever knowing. The druids wrote nothing. Their
entire history was by memory and verbal teachings. Aodh had
to finish inducting her, or she could die simply from the surge
of power in which she was bestowed with Ty’s final breath.
Aodh could induct her properly here, bringing her through

the passage to leave behind this current existence and enter
the ancient practice of the Druids. They had chosen her, it
was clear. Not all women were granted, but Ty had found her,
and knew Dru was worthy. Aodh had found her, and knew
she was special straight away, and not just because he thought
of her as his best mate. She had been born special, gifted. Far
more than she could possibly have realised.
He laid her atop the slanted structure, her head fell back
hard and smacked against the stone. Thick streams of
crimson seeped from the back of her head, coating the stone
quickly. The faint colour of her skin drained further as her
blood coated the large, flat stone. Aodh placed one hand on
the stone, palming the blood-coated surface. He bent to kiss
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her forehead, her skin burning his lips before he pulled away
and reached his other hand into the air, as if he were going to
pull down the sky. His voice rang clear and forceful, deeply
cutting through the winds being carried from the sea, as even
nature paused for him, awaiting, welcoming.
Salt of the sea

Ray of the sun
Stone of the plain
Root of tree.
Green of the meadow,

Eagle of the air.
School of the water
Light of the moon,
I am the All-Father.
I am in them, they are Me.
Gaping holes began to form all around the tomb; the

grayish-blue sky parted it’s clouds, the sea swirled into a
humongous funnel, the nearby hill split to offer it’s head, and
the wind itself began to circle the place where they stood. It
gained momentum, cutting through the air, forming a twister
around them. No dirt, no dust, no stones, just wind until
everything became silently still, and the area exploded with all
of Her elements. A burst of sun blinded from the sky, the
hilltop gushed soil, the sea blasted water and the wind rose up
in a webbing funnel, connecting each gaping hole with an arm
of outstretched wind. As soon as they connected, the sky
looked like it would surely fall and the sea would turn upside
down. Then quite suddenly, it all stopped. Dru was gone.
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Aodh looked down at the tablet, her blood and body cleaned
free of the place, not even a trace remaining on his hand.
110
Chapter 8
Sand Storms
A small flock of Atlantic Puffins stood on a moss-covered

rock and stared curiously at the sight nearby. A woman was
floating vertically, her feet skimming the water, her head
back, arms outstretched until she reached the rocky beach
where the waves deposited her carefully. Standing in the
nude, her feet landed on the small pebbles and rocks, but her
feet didn’t hurt even though she wore no shoes. Her eyes
flashed open, and she eyed the small, fluffy birds
momentarily, then turned around to look out at the water,
her feet not moving at all. She could make out the Twelve
Bens, the beautiful mountain range beyond the bay. She
thought this most curious. How was she here? Surely, she
couldn’t have swum across the entire Galway Bay from the
Burren and lived?
She looked around for Aodh, curious about his absence. He

had been holding her, just moments ago. Galway Bay was
infamous for it’s rough waters, and it was very cold this time
111
of year, yet she felt neither warmth, nor a chill. She went to
the rock covered in Puffins. They were rather cute, she
thought to herself. She picked one up and spoke to it.
“I wonder if Aodh has ever seen you before.”
As she spoke his name, he appeared. His eyes had those

same small globes spinning in the irises, only now they were
far more pronounced than the usual sapphire shade of blue.
The threads of his jumper even stood out, the pattern looked
alive, moving. She stood calmly and stared at him, and
handed him one of the small, penguin-like birds. Suddenly, all
the things she had been curious about were crystal clear.
“Ty was a god?”
“Aye, Dru. God of War.”
“He knew he was going to die.”
“Aye.”
“I wasn’t asking you a question! He was supposed to have

married me. I saw it, in his thoughts, we were supposed to have
started a family!”
“Calm yerself, Dru. I know.”
Her hands waved around her, bathing her in a mist that

settled into a gown of pale seafoam, loosely draping her body.
“Calm? I just found out the one bloke I actually fell in love
with that wasn’t a total megalomaniac or homicidal
psychopath was told by thousands of years of prophetic
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D. VONTHAER
advisement that he was meant to wed me, and still he chose

death!”
Angry tears washed her cheeks, and she began to rise from
the sand, then down again, completely unaware of what she
was doing.
“It’s not quite that simple. You told me yerself yeh weren’t so
keen on marriage! Called it foolish?”
Higher from the ground again, her hair began to whip in the
freezing winds, and her tears stopped.
“Don’t you start, do not, you do not even know him! Yeh don’t
even really know me!”
“Dru, listen. Find yer peace with that now. If not..”
She cut him off. Dru’s voice was becoming more shrill as her
temper approached the boiling point. She didn’t want to find
peace. She’d been looking for peace inside of chaos for the
entirety of her life.
“Do not tell me what to do, Aodh!”
“Can yeh just stop being such a brat for one bloody moment?”
“Piss off.”
And, with her last, Dru disappeared, her voice ringing out
from the bill of the Puffin after her body was clear and gone
from the beach.
Do not follow me.

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Aodh attempted to disobey immediately, but he couldn’t.

He tried to find her, as she had said he could do so long as he
wore the sweater knitted from her own magic, but she was
pushing him back. He sat the bird down on a rock, and
waited. Dusk turned into night, and he’d finally given in. She
was gone, she had to be left well enough alone. For a time. So
he too, simply left. He’d come back. For now, she needed to
be the butterfly he knew her to be. She’d come back when she
was good and ready.
Tears stained her face, making it glossy under the light of

the crescent moon. Dru turned her head side to side, not
recognising the place where she stood. Her throat felt dry and
itchy, swallowed by the surrounding heat. Her breathing
laboured as she tried to take in deeper breaths, but each time
she did, her throat closed even more. Not bothering to fight
back the swelling tears, they exploded from her eyes with a
scream. Falling to her knees, a loud, vicious screech of hurt
and anger tore through the quiet desert village. She felt torn
apart, ripped from the shell of her body and mind, floating
into space unguided. Ty had known. He knew all this time she
was meant to be his wife. She was meant to carry his child.
She fell forward, catching herself on her hands as dug into

the rocks and dust with trembling hands. He knew. He was
supposed to have married her, to have a baby with her, and
then turn away and walk bravely into battle? Whose idea was
that? Her fingers dug into the dry earth, her nails cracking
and breaking as she clawed at the dirt. All those days he’d
watch her tend her garden, all the nights walking down her
beach hand in hand talking. It was all for, what exactly? Was
he angry? Bitter he was the one to have to do it, and he got
cold feet? Even on the eve of his death, he got cold feet? She
never knew. Perhaps that was what made her angrier. She
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D. VONTHAER
thought she knew men, how they worked, what they wanted.
She’d met enough of them to think such a thing was true. Ty
was so different, the very first to see her, so she thought.
The fresh onslaught of power poisoned her. She didn’t feel

like a druid. She wasn’t worth being put in that same box as a
priestly being. A maniacal laugh interjected her profane
tirade, as an invisible wave seeped from her, rolling over the
dusty hills and desert plains. Tears leaked onto the burnt-
orange earth. She had been wrong, all this time, so very
wrong. A breath of wind forced sand to sweep across the
town, right back at her, as if the desert was fighting back. Her
eyes clamped tightly shut, and her lips tried to seal away the
fine desert sand that was beginning to coat her body. Her
head lowered, Dru remained on all fours as the desert winds
raged against her body, letting her know she was not
welcome.
Sand piled onto her, weighing her down and she tried to
fight it back, pushing it off in heaping piles that continually
came back harder. It was as if someone was breathing sand
directly onto her back. The sand lightened, and a hateful
voice bore into her ears as a strong hand picked her up from
the ground.
Trying to see through the sand, Dru smacked at the figure,

and the figure smacked back, hard. Warm blood filled her
mouth, and the sand recommenced it’s attack, forming a wall
and crashing down onto the pair. She tackled whoever, or
whatever it was to the desert floor as the sand blasted over
their rolling bodies. Unable to really breathe, and her eyes
tightly shut, her face and body felt blow after blow of a heavy
hand. Her blood was boiling, and the higher her anger grew,
the harder she fought back. However, the harder she fought,
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the stronger this thing became. Tall thin cyclones formed

around them, growing taller and thinner by the minute like
upside down cones.
Fear wasn’t nearly as strong as the rage that built up inside

of her, though maybe she should have been afraid. Afraid of
the unknown, of what was to come, all of those things that
most people live in fear of day by miserable day. It was anger,
pure anger at Ty, at Aodh, at herself and her life that was
fueling her to grasp at the faceless being that was trying it’s
damnedest to knock her teeth down her throat. A surge of
energy coursed through her fingertips as she wrapped her
fingers around what she imagined was a throat. The fierce
sand was stinging her closed eyes, and it was nearly
impossible to breathe. She felt veins and skin and hair
sticking to the back of her hand when a pair of lips pressed
hard against hers. The cyclones fell in heaps to the sandy
floor, the crashing wave of powdered sand fell to into sloppy
mounds, and they were suddenly gone.
Gasping hard as fresh air filled her lungs, she tried to open
her eyes and pull away from whoever this was. Grabbing each
of his arms with her hands, she squeezed them as objects
from around the room began their flight to his head. She tried
to summon something back in the desert, but nothing came
to her. All sorts of gilded trinkets took off towards them in the
room they were in, but fell to the floor before ever hitting her
attacker. A huge gulp of air filled her lungs and she rounded
on him; more valuable-looking objects fleeting their shelves
under her angered command.
“Yeh fucking fuck.”
“You kiss your mother with that mouth, Face?”

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D. VONTHAER
Her eyes were burning from the sandstorm, her vision

blurred at best. They were in a large square room with cool,
smooth floors. Everything she sent after him fell with clinks
and pings to the floor, and she started to rub her eyes, trying
to get the sand out when he snatched her by her hair. Kicking
and screaming, the man dragged her hard up three or four
steps and threw her against a heavy, carved bronze door.
Dru’s eyes teared up when the back of her head hit the door,
leaving her slightly disoriented and trying to stumble to her
feet. His voice was hard and his words were sharp, like he
shortened each vowel in order to say what he wanted as
quickly as possible. His hands clasped onto her upper arms
and he pulled her off of her feet. Blinking her eyes, she
struggled against him, clawing at his dark skin. He threw her
to the side where she crashed into a highly decorative solid
marble table and she smacked her head, hard. The man knelt
down, and pushed her hair away from her face. He clutched a
thick lock of it in his hand, and turned her head around to
examine her. He had cinnamon-reddish eyes, and would have
been handsome had he not had the temper of a viper.
And as she thought it, four enormous brown and black

scorpions rose from the floor and trapped her wrists and
ankles, securing her to the floor like living chains. Her back
was against the thick marble table, fresh blood dripped down
her face when all four dagger-length stingers struck at her. A
slow, hideous hissing sound slipped into her ears and the
striking scorpions slowed, almost frozen. The man sat back
and watched, his mouth gaping as the creatures moved so
slowly it was as if someone had hit a slow-motion button.
Knocking back to sit on his calves, he watched and slowly
started to clap as Dru’s eyes twitched.
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“Well, well, Fancy Face, look at you. I wonder. How long can
you hold them? Can you speak and do tricks at the same time?
Or does the scorpion have your tongue?”
The man got to his knees and leaned forward, catching his
weight on one arm as his other hand stroked a thin, vertical
patch of black hair under his lip. Dru was rendered silent. It
was taking such concentration to hold the four beasts, and
even then she wasn’t really holding them, merely slowing
their actions.
Had she not left so fast, had she not had such a tantrum,
Aodh could have showed her how to use her newly betrothed
gifts. No, of course not. So stubborn, and so quick to find
trouble. And this time, trouble found her in a major way. Her
cheeks trembled as she watched him, a line of blood trickling
down her forehead. She was afraid to adjust even a small
action, for fear of losing her grip on the scorpions and they’d
sink their long, venomous stingers into her pulsating veins.
She swallowed slowly, trying to hold them back with nothing
more than a concentration of her mind.
“No? No voice for the girl with the face. Aren’t you precious,
holding my pets. So, I suppose introductions before your
painful, excruciating death would be appreciated. I am Kas and
I’m afraid you’re in the wrong neck of the proverbial woods.
Oh, but what is your name?”
Still on his knees, he moved in to her. The animal's claws

were pinching, painfully slow, offering a scraping hiss sound
as they fought her. It became white noise, an audible filler to
her death march. His hands smoothed up her legs, touching
her firmly, and squeezing tightly once he got to her thighs,
making her hold her breath. Dru’s face became pink from lack
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of oxygen, her forehead beading with sweat. One of his hands

tightened around her thigh and he smirked at her reddening
face, as his other hand slipped between her legs, a wicked grin
of sick pleasure curling his thin lips.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to go playing in someone

else’s sandbox without an invitation? Poor manners, girl. Very
poor. I think you might need a firm lesson. Very. Firm.”
With that last word he squeezed her thigh so hard her

mouth fell open and she fought back a scream. The stingers
grew closer; she was losing her control over them. He grabbed
Dru’s face and squeezed her cheeks until her lips really did
form a shape of a heart, and he turned her head back and
forth, examining her every feature. He smelled of wine and a
spice that made her want to sneeze. His voice slowed down,
and deepened slightly as his grasp loosened. He itemized her
appearance the way one would examine a car.
“You’re very pretty. Rather curvy. Excellent child-bearing

hips.”
His hands slid down Dru’s chest, and he cupped each of her
breasts and squeezed them, a thin line of blood starting to
issue from her nose as she tried even harder to concentrate.
Her breath caught when he squeezed hard and the scorpions
jumped forward a little, leaving her gasping. Moving his
hands down her stomach, he used a single sharp nail to slice
through the cloth of her dress to appraise her body. A tiny
butterfly tattoo that rested low on her stomach rumbled with
her fluttering nerves. A line of wetness trailed down her cheek
as she eyed him, raking her mind for something to do.
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Looking from her exposed stomach to her face, he leaned in;

she could smell sweat on his neck as he spoke casually into
her ear.
“Try all you want. You can’t perform real magic here. No one
can find you. You can’t escape. My pets will feast on you for
days you unless I stop them. Give me a reason to want you to
live.”
One long, warm stroke of his tongue lapped up her tears,

and then he stood. Kas walked over to a pair of windows that
rose to the ceiling, at least twenty feet tall. The outside sun
was blindingly bright. Closing the heavy drapes, the only light
left in the room came from something glowing inside of
inverted glass pyramids suspended in the air all along the
ceiling. He lit a thin brown cigarette without the use of a
lighter, and turned back to her, crossing his arms. He smoked
casually and ran his fingers through his black hair as he
spoke.
“I can feel you trying. You’re making a beautiful effort, Face.

Really, it’s a beautiful thing. But see, now? You’re wasting my
fucking time. I will admit, you’re definitely something to look
at. You look wild. Are you wild, Face? Untamed?”
He walked to her, tugged at his shirt, and kicked her legs

apart. Stepping on her ankle, he finished smoking his
cigarette, and put it out on the head of one of the beasts. As
he pushed it down into one of the eyes, the hissing grew more
ominous. Dru’s face contorted as she tried to hold the
scorpion, but it’s fury was fighting harder than her fear. He
stepped harder on her ankle before squatting down to her
face. He reeked of cigars, and looked at her body like an
animal, starved. His fingers traced over her body, and he slid
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one hand into the cut in her dress, tearing it from her body, as
his other hand undid his belt. He played with her breast, and
pinched her nipple hard, and pulled it roughly with a smile.
“You like it, don’t you?”
Going between her thighs, his face got closer to hers as he

rubbed her harshly.
“Of course you do. Tell me to stop, and I will. Daemon’s

honour.”
His lips slammed onto hers. The scorpions were so close,

she could feel one of their barbs twitching against her skin.
Kas tugged at her hips, pulling her away from the table. His
hands caressed her sand-covered gown, and as they moved
over her body, the fabric melted under his touch. His eyes
glowed as he watched her ivory skin reveal itself.
“My, my. You’re a natural blonde. Fascinating.”
However, her mouth, that infamously vulgar mouth had to

have it’s say. Pinning her head as far back as it would go, she
scooted further, flattening her back on the cold, sleek floor.
“Need a map? Let me go and I’ll draw one.”
The creatures moved blindingly fast, but contorted and

curled as their stings found one another before turning
downward towards their prey. Again, they were held at bay.
But, not for long.
“A map? Oh you’re too much. I think I can find my way. Let

me know if I hit the spot.”
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Once more he was to his knees, and he ripped open his shirt
to reveal a very sculpted, slightly thin body baked by the sun.
They got louder and started to shake as they fought against
the witch. Her one hand held him off of her body, and he
rested there for a minute, again watching her face, his fingers
trailing along her skin as he spoke as casually as he would at a
water cooler.
“You’re a feisty fucking thing. Look at you, trying so hard. Go

ahead, don’t let me stop you. Keep fighting, it’s sexy. You’re
turning me the fuck on.”
His hand slid down her stomach, and she tried to release a
butterfly, but they wouldn’t come. The room was smouldering
hot, and he touched her freely. Was this it? Was she going to
die like this, under this man’s roaming hand? For what? A
tantrum? She was so angry with herself, she could barely
stand it. Part of her wanted to release the hold on the
scorpions so she could end it, be done with it all. He slammed
a finger into her and she gasped hard, losing her grip on all
four of her captors. The scorpions turned into clouds of
thinning smoke, and evaporated into the air. Her eyes closed
shut, awaiting the pain of impending death as he laid his body
over hers, and he bit down onto her breast.
Tugging it hard with his teeth, Dru’s eyes flashed open, her
heart racing, expecting to see four stingers. Instead a groan
escaped her heart-shaped lips. She stared at him, watching his
eyes darken to deep spinel-red, her blood coating his lips.
Mashing his mouth to hers, he hoisted her leg over his
shoulder, and her other foot roughly shoved his pants down.
She didn’t know what she was doing, she didn’t care. Maybe it
was something about realising she was alive. Maybe it was
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being desired. Maybe she wanted to be punished. Maybe it

was just because she was so damned pissed off at the world.
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Chapter 9
Miss Petra’s School of Dance
Aodh stepped onto a cold New York sidewalk, and the noise
nearly deafened him. Bright yellow taxicabs stood out against
the city’s dull, gray backdrop, weaving in and out of traffic,
honking horns and screeching their tires. He watched them
for a moment, trying to adjust to the smells and sounds of the
city. This was so far from the serenity of home, he felt like he
could have been on another planet. Still standing a head taller
than most and about twice as wide, he started walking along,
trying, yet not succeeding, to not tread on any toes.
A woman took him to task, a petite one at that, with curly,

flame coloured hair. He was fascinated and slightly amused by
her gumption as she yelled at him about some kind of shoe
he’d stomped on with his muddy boots. He stared back at her,
partially annoyed, partially impressed with her lack of fear.
Her accent was something he’d never heard before, and he
got lost in her loud, boisterous voice. He tried to follow her
into the shop, but to no avail.
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People were pouring in and out as if they were on some kind

of robotic treadmill line, and he had just too much bulk for
their routine. Shaking his head, he walked away swiftly,
grunting to himself. Humans, he’d come to realise, were
mysterious beings to him, and he wasn’t so sure he wanted to
know more just yet. He pounded the cool pavement, taking in
the sights of tall, steel buildings with glistening windows,
alleyways filled with rubbish and people chatting away to
themselves with small devices stuck to their ears. Some had
no device at all, but were even more animated with their
private conversations. They really seemed convinced someone
was listening to them, and he refrained from smacking them
on the back of their heads to tell them the voices did not care.
The weather was drab, and the sky seemed to not want to
show itself here. Back home, there was nothing but sky and
long fields of green to capture his attention. Here, there were
so many things, a cluttering group of activity; it made him
tired from the energy of it all. Even his feet could feel the
city’s life, a sort of heartbeat underfoot, pulsing and pushing
him to move, faster, and faster still, taking him to someplace
quickly before time ran out. Ran out for what or why, he
couldn’t reason, but it made him want to get going, and do
whatever it was he needed to do with a quickness. Thing was,
Aodh didn’t know what he was to do here. He was lost, his
mate was gone, and he couldn’t figure out where to go next.
Like the typical man he was, he went right where his gut
always seemed to take him: food. The smells were inviting, he
had to admit, and he followed them to the heart of the city as
it bustled around him. It was midday here, and huge swarms
of people were crowding the streets and sidewalks, making it
difficult for him not to trample the masses. Fitting in was
easier said than done, indeed.
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D. VONTHAER
He stood outside of a shop to watch a flurry of folks fly in

and out of the door that never seemed to actually shut, as
another group was waiting impatiently for the ones inside to
get a move on. People here shouted, and loudly, over
everything and anything to anyone within earshot. He was so
fascinated, he almost forgot his stomach was grumbling until
a huge, billowing cloud of pink and white balloons passed by.
One smacked him in the face, and he turned, chuckling to
himself the idea of yelling over it. He couldn’t make out what
was holding them together. The balloon cluster bobbed down
the wide sidewalk and he watched it move. His eyes followed
the top balloon to the bottom, until they spied saw a very
small pair of bare legs in thin, spiked shoes clicking along the
sidewalk, hidden under the mushroom of latex. He followed it
for a little bit, smelling something like roses carry on the air
as the balloons made their way a few doors down and
stopped. He paused when the balloons did, watching with
interest to see what was hidden inside. The door opened, and
he observed with a keen eye, until one balloon got away.
It started to ascend into the grim sky, and Aodh leapt for it.
Soaring just slightly higher than any normal man should, his
massive hand snatched the balloon’s string, and he landed
with a gentle thud, pale pink balloon in hand. He turned to
hand it to it’s owner, but he couldn’t see her at all, until one
of the dozens of balloons popped. He looked further down,
having to bend considerably. When he did, his sapphire eyes
caught a glimpse of the largest, softest round eyes he’d ever
seen. Momentarily speechless, which was quite a feat, he
handed the balloon to it’s owner with a dimpled grin. The sky
decided it wasn’t going to be outdone by the noise of the city,
and it opened up wide, showering the crabby crowds below. A
small hand grabbed his shirt and tugged, but he wouldn’t
have even felt it had he not been watching it so closely.
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He followed her and the balloons into the building, holding

the door open so he could guide them through. Suddenly it
was so quiet, he felt odd knowing just outside was an entire
city on fast-forward. He could hear her heels click on the dull
wood floor and stop as she tied the lot to a chair and sat a
huge, thick yellow book on the seat. The pink and white
balloons parted to reveal the loveliest thing his eyes had ever
clamped onto. The rain had dampened her short, bright
yellow hair, but nothing could dampen those eyes. She walked
quickly back to the door, with her hand out, a grace and
elegance to her steps before her soft voice issued from her
perfectly pink lips.
“Thank you, so very much. That vos so nice of you. I’m, erm,
K-Kat.”
He took her petite hand into his massive one, and he

stepped further into the wide, open room that had long
mirrors on the walls and paint buckets littering the floor. The
odd pair stood there, watching each other, as rain washed the
streets, sending the city indoors for shelter.
“Aye, Kat. I’m Aodh. Very welcome, indeed.”
Katerina watched him, a little bit breathless; she’d never

met such a huge man before. The telephone rang, and she
pulled her hand back from his, wondering how fingers that
big ever did up buttons.
“Just, just a second, go ahead and stay for a few, no need to

go out in zat weather, I mean, if you like, if you vant, just, just
a moment.”
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Her natural Russian accent was beginning to creep out

behind the faux-French one she had been attempting to use
since her escape. She felt her face grow hot as she picked up
the receiver. She watched him as he looked around, and her
eyes followed where his were going as the voice on the other
line started telling her what she did not want to hear.
Slamming down the receiver, she brought her hand to her
mouth, almost in tears.
Aodh turned to watch her when he heard her voice escalate,

wondering if he ought to leave, but he didn’t want to. Her
voice captivated him; and the way she moved like a bird, not
like a human at all, was fascinating. Talking a little louder
than necessary, his deep, gravelly voice cut through the
room’s acoustics’ and billowing into their ears.
“There a problem? If yeh need me to, yeh know, get a move

on, no worries, love. Little bit of rain never killed anybody. That
I know of at the very least.”
Not wanting to tread mud onto the floor, he stayed near the
door, but so wanted to get right in and ask her a scroll of
questions. Katerina’s head felt like it was being split into a
hundred different pieces. She tried to say his name, failing
miserably, all the while wanting to strangle the guy that
hijacked her paint.
“Ahoed? Or, vot it is again? I’m sorry, English eez not the
best. And da’, there eez huge problem. I cannot open dance
studio with no ceiling, can I? The man eez not coming back to
finish, and I ‘ave no time. Come in, eez nothing to hurt.”
She went to him, sniffing back the impending tears of

frustration, and ushered him inside. It was still rather cold in
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here, as the heat wasn’t working either, nor were the lights. As
her hand took hold of his jacket, he shook his head and tried
to correct her through a stifled chuckle.
“Aodh. A-Oh. Can’t say American English is my strong suit

either, I’ve just…arrived.”
He looked at the holes in the ceiling and the wires hanging

from it, thinking he could fix that in less than a blink, but
knew he should not. Not in front of a mortal. Out of habit, he
began to attempt to stroke his now nonexistent beard; it felt
very odd not to have it there. Meanwhile, the tiny dancer had
to step back a couple feet and hold her head back in order to
look at his rather handsome, stubbly face. And dimples. She
noticed he had huge, deep dimples in both of his cheeks.
“A-ya? E-ya? Vot kind of name eez that? I’ve never heard that
before.”
Just as she asked again, this huge, made-of-muscle man got

to his knee, and took her hand to his mouth. Placing her
fingers to his lips he repeated, slower, lower, in his deep,
quaking tone.
“A-Oh. Aa-Ooh. Aodh.“ Spelled A-O-D-H, but in Gaelic the dh

is actually silent, or softer yeh might say..”
Taking her hand from his mouth, he almost said too much.
He stood tall again, and realised he was probably two feet
taller, even though she was wearing heels. Again, he ran his
hand over his face, wishing he had his beard there to keep his
hand busy. Clearing his throat, he again looked to the ceiling,
and had a thought. Many thoughts. Reaching up, he took one
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of the soggy, stained tiles down, and looked at it curiously,

and offered her help.
“Yeh know, I can fix this up for yeh in no time at all. No need
to stress over it. Wot’s upstairs?”
He looked back down at her doe-eyes and tried not to sigh.

Her eyes were pulling at his lungs, stealing his breath with
their invisible cords of enticement. Katerina walked around
and peeked up into the ceiling, surprised by his offer. As she
watched, she tried not to notice the scent of him, like freshly
mown grass and roasted almonds. She noticed all too well,
however. Bits of powder and chunks of debris fell to her feet,
and she stumbled on it a little, reaching out to prevent herself
from falling. Her hand caught hold of his stomach, his
perfectly carved stomach that felt like bricks set into his
abdomen, and she simply nodded. Not knowing what she was
nodding to, or about, she removed her hand and avoided his
eyes. Katerina never really noticed men before, not like this,
and she certainly never met a man built like a brick wall.
Taking a step back, her face flooded with colour, and she
turned away from him, trying to think. Thinking how to stop
blushing.
“An apartment is up there. Zee woman who used to own zis

studio lived up there, but she passed away last week. Miss
Petra. She fell in her bathtub. Zat eez why it’s all wet. It
overflowed. She was so kind. I appreciate zee offer, Aodh, but I
cannot pay you much. Zee man who was to finish has taken off,
and I’m broke. Are you, um, looking for work?”
He did say he just had arrived to America. Was he trying to

start new and fresh, like her? Did he have a secret past he was
trying to hide and start anew? She wanted to help, the way
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she had found help. That idea tore at her insides. If she were
honest, truly honest with herself, she’d admit, she had been
terribly lonely. Never would she have imagined she’d feel that
way. Even surrounded by people her whole life, constantly
followed and watched, she felt lonely, even though she was
never alone. And now without those prying eyes, she still felt
low and sad, and had a difficult time enjoying her freedoms.
“You can stay upstairs if you need a place to live. No one eez
there. I ‘ave cleaned out many things, but maybe you can move
things round if you want?”
Katerina’s idea barely got out of her mouth before Aodh’s

head was nodding hard and enthusiastically back at her.
Whatever it was she was attempting to say in whatever kind
of accent she had, he was agreeing to.
“Oi, no worries, a flat would do fine. How, erm, how quick do

yeh need it all done?”
“Well, soon as eet gets done? You can stay, you know. If
that’s vot you mean. For a while to get on your…feet.”
Her eyes looked down at his massive feet, and she started to
blush like a silly girl. They made their arrangements whilst
walking up the back stairs to the one-bed flat above the
studio, agreeing he could live there as long as he did the work
in the studio. He knew he could fix it right then and there.
Something made him want to be there and take his time; to
just listen to her talk. Even though they barely understood
each other, and had to routinely pause to have a look at each
other’s faces and occasionally spell what it was they were
trying to say.
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They examined the damage to the floor and walls and even
Katerina had to frown at the smell of mothballs in the
apartment. The rain stopped, and the sun was getting ready to
set. Like the daylight, Katerina thought it was a good idea to
say goodbye, for now.
“Can you work at night, so I can dance during the days?“
“Absolutely.”
“Then, we ‘ave a deal?”
“Aye. We have a deal.”
Offering a smile to his deep dimples, they shook hands

again, and she bounded down the stairs, the apartment door
shutting behind her.
Back on the street, Katerina leapt over puddles on her way

home, a giggly type of grin etched on her face the entire way.
She felt like saying hello to everyone, and maybe hugging a
few of her neighbours before heading into her apartment,
kicked off her shoes and sank low into her white couch.
Looking around, her knee bounced up and down nervously as
her mind wandered to deep blue eyes and dimples and a
funny, thick accent attached to the firmest body she’d ever
met.
Pulling her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms

around them, and hugged tightly. Her chin rested on her
knees as she sat in her pristine apartment. The floors were a
dark wood, waxed and buffed to a shine, and her L-shaped
sofa was bright white, along with a matching chair that sat
untouched in the corner. A single white orchid stood tall on
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her chestnut-coloured coffee table. The walls were equally

blank, painted stark white throughout the two-bedroom
apartment she just moved into. Her dining table sat lonely
and unused in her dinette. She occasionally sat in one chair,
but she couldn’t bring herself to sit in the other three, as they
were meant for company. Company she never had.
Flopping over on her couch, she stared out into her

hospital-worthy home. She laid there for a few minutes,
daydreaming with a school-girl grin on her face, when her
lights flickered off. Sitting up, she looked around suspiciously,
and bolted to the window. Her neighbours seemed to be
without power as well. Turning on her heel, she stopped to
look at herself in the mirror, and started to fuss with her
unkempt locks. Her dark roots were coming in, and her skin
was particularly pale this time of year. However, she was
beaming, even in the light of the newly cresting moon.
Suddenly she started to wonder what Aodh was doing.
Quickly, she went to her kitchen, pulled at the refrigerator
door, as an idea crossed into her mind.
Aodh went down into the studio to assess the damage, and
tried to think of how a real mortal would fix it all up. Perhaps
he should read? First things first. Power. People these days
didn’t seem too fond of firelight. A sizzling sound buzzed into
the open room as the lights came on, and then the furnace
roared, sending gusts of heat into the chilly room. Shrugging
that his day’s work was done, he traipsed back up to the old
woman’s flat. Poking around at things, there was a small,
older television set into a huge casing of carved wood, and a
set of deep dimples sank into his cheeks. Aodh was trying to
locate a remote, wondering how it worked without one.
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Tall silver sticks poked out of the back, and when he

touched them, the thing clicked on. Staring at it, it was fuzzy
and the colour was faded, not like the ones he saw when he
was in the pub with Dru. Channels changed past a cooking
show, and he started thinking of finally grabbing some nosh,
as he had been quite hungry now for hours. He was never one
to have a want longer than a few breaths. Gentle waves of his
hand, and plates clinked onto the old, pedestal table that was
covered in an even older, but very fine lace. Perhaps Dru was
indeed correct, men are drawn to telly like they are to booze
and women.
He felt oddly naked without that little rectangular plastic

thing in his hand. He found a channel that had men in hard
hats and grunting over powering tool-type things and he tried
to follow as he smothered baked beans onto toast. Between
bites all sorts of things started to appear in the old lady’s
stuffy flat. The floral-patterned chair with the threadbare
arms was pushed to the side at the appearance of a ladder.
Aodh had to laugh at himself for that, but it still looked to be
necessary if he was to pretend to be a mortal. And a mortal in
need of employment at that. He could wave a hand and fix it
all up, and go about his life. He just did not want to. He
wanted to be here. Not like he had anywhere else to go.
All the furniture was pushed to the walls as buckets and

cans of paint, sheets of drywall and boxes of screws and nails
covered the center of the room. The old rug was neatly rolled
up and resting against the wall, and a loud belch let the
entire, empty place know he was done with dinner. Yet, not
exactly satisfied. Poking around at all the equipment and
tools with long cords and dangerous-looking blades, he
started making a racket. Chuckling, he played with them like
a boy opening his birthday gifts until a knock came at his
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door. Putting down the chainsaw, he could smell something

delicious wafting in from the other side of the door.
“Bear me a moment!”
The tools all started to float back to their houses to sit

neatly and ready to be used. He scanned the place once before
opening the door. Looking down, he saw those eyes again,
holding a big brown bag half her size standing on his landing.
“Hi, ‘ave you eaten yet? I thought you might be hungry, and
my electric has gone.”
She started going on about her lack of electricity, when she

realised he had power. There wasn’t power in the studio
before. Arching a brow, she turned, a she so often did, in one
small fluid movement. Aodh’s nose found something delicious
lurking in her offerings. Assuring her he had not eaten, and
was of course starving half to death, he coughed loudly, and
all the dishes he had just used disappeared from the table. She
turned from him, her nose sniffing for something, and once
her back was to him, he blew a gust of breath, forcing the
scent of his poorly concocted beans and toast to waft down
the steps. He shut the door and followed her to the kitchen
counter.
“Why’s that?”
“Hey, where did you get all of zis stuff?”
“Erm, the shop?”
“They were open? Today?”
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“Aye, the bloke said they were.”
Following her like a child to the pied piper, he hovered over

her, peering over her head into the bag. She pulled out
container after container of the most wonderful smelling food
that made his beans and toast smell like, well, beans and
toast. He couldn’t help but grin at how she was even smaller
now in her trainers.
“Yeh made all of this? Quite nice, innit?”
Katerina looked confused at first, but it was quickly replaced

by a huge grin once she looked up to see him staring over her,
and she gave a sort of nervous laugh. He seemed to get very
close. She reasoned it must be a cultural thing. Aodh caught
sight of those eyes of hers again, shining and huge, and two
deep dimples sank into his cheeks before he turned to gather
up some plates. Doing so with a huge amount of noise, they
sat down over roasted turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes
which Aodh consumed with fervor.
“I thought you might be hungry, and seeing ‘ow eez a holiday,

nothing will be open. And then my power went out, so, I um,
thought I’d bring you some dinner.”
She picked at her food and spoke soft but at a rapid pace,
twirling her fork in the fluffy potatoes, as he ate, and ate, and
ate even more as if he were starving. This made her smile
inside, even if he couldn’t see it.
“Holiday? Today? Wot holiday?“
“Thanksgiving. It’s an American holiday, I almost forgot too.”
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“Remembered bit of a last moment, eh?”
“Yes, I guess you could say that.”
His voice made her melt. It was so deep, and his thick Irish
brogue was just adorable. The place was quiet except for the
low humming of the television program, and when he spoke,
she jumped, making her fork fly out of her hand.
“Oi, aren’t yeh going to eat? Yeh can’t weigh more than seven
stone. Yeh don’t have to actually eat like a bird.”
One of his enormous hands reached out and pushed her

plate closer to her. Pausing to have a long, hard drink of
water, he sat the glass down hard on the table, took several
deep breaths and watched her. She still wasn’t eating, just
giving a look of shock, like how dare he think she should eat.
Her fork had fallen to the floor, so he took his, and scooped
up some potatoes and stuck the tip of the fork near her
mouth, his eyes dead focused on hers.
“Can’t tell me yer not hungry some of the time. I’m from the
land of potatoes, trust me. They won’t kill yeh.”
Her lips parted, and she took a very small bite, closing her
eyes as she savoured the flavour, her stomach growling for
more. Both of her hands took his and pushed it away gently.
“Thank you, but I ‘ave to watch my weight, or how else can

my partner lift me? Too many carbs in potatoes.”
She stood and cleared the dishes, whilst he looked at the

potatoes lingering on his fork. Sniffing them, he shrugged and
ate them anyway, not knowing what a carb was. Taking his
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last bite, and a final drink, he stood also and helped clean up,
and offered his own two-cents.
“Yeh have a partner? Maybe he needs to hit the gym if he

can’t lift yeh. I could lift yeh with one arm I’d wager, and
probably not break a sweat.”
“I don’t have a partner, not right now. No. Are you saying
you can don tights and dance as well? Should I sign you up for
class?”
Both began to laugh at the very idea whilst they cleaned up

the kitchen. Kat washed up the plates, he dried and stacked
them into the high cabinet that she couldn’t reach. They
chatted about dancing, and laughed a little over the concept
of him doing Swan Lake. In tights.
On Black Friday Katerina woke up early as usual and

hustled to her dance studio, her step even lighter than usual.
Stopping off to grab a coffee at the corner shop, she went back
into the line to get a second, in case he was awake.
Unfortunately, he was not. He must have been awake all
night, she thought. Her lights were working, and so was her
heat.
In fact, it was so hot, she had to peel off her sweater as soon
as she walked in. Hoping he’d wake up, she made all kinds of
noise, turned up the radio, clicked loudly back and forth
across the floor, just to see if he’d come down. But, he didn’t.
She had asked him to work in the evenings so as not to
disturb her whilst she danced. Admitting defeat, she kicked
off her tap shoes, and sat on the floor disappointed. One leg
outstretched, she carved her new ballet slippers in a huff.
Here and there, her big eyes stared sadly at the second cup of
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coffee as it grew cold; the steam no longer seeping from the

small hold in the lid. Finally resolving that he was not coming
down, she began her workout.
Upstairs, Aodh had spent the night watching home

improvement shows on the old television, wanting to make an
attempt at looking authentic. Authentically mortal. Normal.
He heard her walk in that morning, and immediately his heart
began to race. He waited near the door, waiting for her small
hand to knock, but it remained silent. She wanted to dance.
To practise. To be left well enough alone, so he thought. Once
her music clicked on, he laid upon the floor. He twisted
around in the small, cluttered room that was now almost
completely filled with DIY paraphernalia. Throwing his bulky
legs onto the sofa, he laid on his back, listening. He could
hear her breathing increase as she moved, and his head
turned side-to-side, following her movements. He spent the
rest of the day listening to the sound of the dancer below
exhausting her body.
Exhausted was exactly how she felt. Sweat laced her leotard,
and drained down her back as she practised. Examining each
and every move in the mirrors, she criticised herself, her
stance, her posture, and did it again. And again, and once
more until it was perfect. Not just right, but perfect. Her new
pink slippers began to show signs of red stains in the toes, a
life’s work of damage to her feet from working them beyond
the breaking point. As the sun climbed higher, she stopped
for some water. Watching the people passing the glass doors,
the streets were crowded as usual, shopping and carrying
obscene amounts of bags as they made their way through
retail hell.
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D. VONTHAER
A soft ring broke her concentration, and she went to her bag
to answer the little phone to find her friend’s voice on the
other end. Smiling excitedly, she guzzled her water and
clicked off the phone, threw it into her bag. Pouting a little
bit, she scribbled a note on a pink square of sticky paper and
crept up the steps to stick it to his door. She slipped on her
pants and sweater, stalling to see if he’d come down. But, she
couldn’t make Niki wait any longer, and Kat left to go tell her
friend all the details of the giant.
“Wow, when did you meet this guy?”
“Yesterday, when I had zee balloons to cover my face. I lost

one and he jumped to grab it. He’s so very tall.”
“How tall?”
“I think more than seven feet, Niki.”
“Holy shit! Seven feet tall? I don’t think this is a good idea,
Katerina. Is he cute?”
Katerina’s face turned bright pink and felt hot. And it wasn’t
because of the coffee she was sharing with her friend. Taking
a small sip and tried to be blasé about it.
“He eez nice looking.”
“Nice looking? Is that your polite way of saying he’s hot, or a

freak?”
Her coffee cup smacked hard against the small, round table
they shared, some of it’s contents spilling over the sides of her
cup. Niki pulled up her magazine quickly so as not to get
141
stained, and she wiped the table with her napkin, looking
sheepish. Katerina’s voice got a little louder, and a little
higher pitched with her answer.
“He eez not a freak!”
She started giggling, and reached out a hand to touch that

of her dear, boisterous, friend who had such a way with
words. She looked at the magazine Niki was reading, it had a
young man with black hair and grey eyes on the cover.
“You like baseball, Niki?”
“Not particularly, but I like the new kid pitching for New
York. Look at his eyes, can you believe those are real? Mmm.
He is cute. And legal too.”
Katerina looked at the cover as well, both of them

contemplating if he used contact lenses. Kat’s mind, however,
went to another pair of eyes. One that belonged to a face with
the best smile, and dimples so deep she could stick raisins in
them, and she started to blurt things out.
“The guy? He’s Irish. And, oh my, he ‘as zis deep voice. Maybe
you can understand him better, I had to ask him to spell for
me.”
Though they both started laughing hard, once the giggles

died down, Monica spun her coffee cup in her hand, and her
knee started to bounce. Katerina was naive, in her own way.
She didn’t want to see her get hurt.
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D. VONTHAER
“Irish huh? I might have to meet him, especially if he has you

all giggling. I don’t think I’ve seen you look at a guy yet. Took a
behemoth to get your attention, huh?”
A loud, obnoxious pop tune came from the cell phone, and
Monica answered it in her loud, carrying, Long Island tone.
Katerina merely stared at the wall, fussing with her short hair.
The phone clicked off, and Kat absentmindedly added, “I wish
I hadn’t cut off all of my hair.”
Niki drank her coffee quickly, and slammed the empty cup
to the table as she stood with an enormous, shining handbag
with glimmering buckles and zippers in her hand. She bent
over and kissed Kat’s head quickly and she knelt down beside
the chair to attempt a quiet talk.
“I’m sorry hon, I have to run. It’s my manager. But listen, I

want to meet this guy. I’ll call you, keep that phone charged,
and don’t dial any of my numbers from it. If you need me this
week, call my agent, and tell her you’re my piano instructor. I’ll
call you back from a payphone. Ok?”
“Ok, Niki. I need a bath, anyway.”
Grabbing Kat into a quick hug, Monica left the coffee shop
with huge glasses and grabbed a cab. Kat sat there and held
her mug for a while, blankly staring at the guy on the cover of
the magazine. After some time, she slipped on a ball cap to
cover her short, bleached hair and left as well.
Making a note to pass the studio before going home, she

stopped dead in her tracks to see Aodh in there, working.
Trying to hide the grin attacking the corners of her mouth,
143
she walked in attempting a look of ease, but was left with her
mouth hanging open.
“Cheers, Kat. Heard yeh leave, thought I’d get an early start.
These walls need a lot of work.”
Aodh stood there in faded, baggy jeans that were covered in

white stains and holes that barely stayed up over his hips.
They were about a foot too short, and split over his calves. His
shirt sleeves had been torn off, and the picture on it was a
huge red tongue lashing out from the tight, faded black fabric.
It was so snug it looked like it had stretch marks. A huge
white bucket was in front of him, and several large, black
garbage bags covered the floor that had approximately a
hundred little bottles of kid’s school glue in each. His thick
hands squeezed little bottle after little, helpless bottle of
white glue into the bucket and he’d then toss the emptied
ones into one of the bags. Pointing to the scene, she started to
shake her head.
“Vot eez this?”
“I’ll take that out to the skip, no worries.”
Blinking, she shook her head and watched him dunk a roller
on a long wooden stick into the bucket of glue, and then
proceed to slather it onto the water-damaged walls.
“Huh? Skip? Who eez Skip?”
“It’s not a bloke, love.”
“Skip eez a girl?”
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D. VONTHAER
Aodh turned to her, and dipped his roller into the thick,
sticky white glue and laughed shortly.
“Wot?”
“Vot?”
“How do yeh mean?”
Katerina couldn’t even find words. He was painting her

water-logged walls with children’s craft glue in an old rock t-
shirt that might have fit him if he was cut in half. Each one of
his brick-like abdominals twitched under the shirt that rose,
exposing his chiseled torso; distracting her thoughts.
Stumbling to turn around, she started walking, paused, and
then continued to the door.
“I ’ave to go. Be back, today, tomorrow. Bye.”
Aodh stared at her nonplussed. He said he’d remove the

rubbish, what was she on about? Shrugging, he turned back to
his handiwork proudly, thinking he was doing a bang-up job
of keeping the paste thick and smooth.
Once Katerina got to her apartment, she took a hot,

steaming shower, all the while muttering under her breath.
Glue? He’s using glue, on my walls. Glue. Her hair dried on
it’s own, and she walked around her apartment with a look of
bewilderment on her face. Unable to stand it, she took off
down the street, and hopped a bus in a random direction. She
never went to the same pay phone twice.
Following Niki’s instructions, Katerina left a message in her

very best French accent for the singer. It was a couple hours
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before Niki called back, and by then Kat’s head had filled with
all kinds of ideas. It was nearing midnight and Kat was
freezing from being outside for so long. Niki met her in
Chinatown, just around the corner from her studio, and Kat
explained what she witnessed.
“Glue. Eez all over zee walls! I told him, just fix eet, you
know? I came in and he had one, well, zat does not matter. But
he was rolling eet onto zee walls. Come, look.”
“Katerina, this guy sounds like an idiot. Is he psycho? Was he

wearing your tights?”
Kat turned to look at Niki as she turned the key to her

dance studio.
“Vot? His feet are, I don’t know, like, zee size of my entire
thigh! Come, just look. And shush, we shouldn’t wake him.”
They crept into the studio, flashlight shining on the wall.

They looked at each other, and then to the wall. Kat switched
on the lights and both women gasped. The walls were perfect.
Their flashlights clicked off, and they stood together, staring.
“Looks like the idiot did a great job. I should hire him to redo
my bathroom.”
“He’s not idiot, Niki! But, look! Eez, perfect! They are smooth,
the stains are gone, and the holes. Perfect.”
Katerina’s hand caressed the wall fondly, though she was at

a complete loss. It made no sense.
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D. VONTHAER
“These are seamless, hon. None of the old patchwork is even

visible. How’d he get it done so fast?”
“I do not know.”
The following day, she got there early as usual, still

bewildered over her walls. Once again she tormented herself
through her workout. Once more, Aodh laid still on the wood
floor, his finger drawing circles on it whenever she twirled. He
laid there listening to her punish herself.
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Chapter 10
Ice and Mistletoe
“Peanut butter, Niki. Eet vos peanut butter in zee sink. Nyet,
the one in the back, the little kitchen one. He wasn’t eating it,
he was using it to caulk the sink. I am positive. I know, I know.
Eet’s been three weeks, but he does odd things. And he wears
odd things. He’s just, odd.”
Niki snorted through the phone, sat down her coffee, and
started taking the big rollers out of her hair.
“Are you sure you’re not just trying to find something wrong
with him? I mean, he did bring you a flower because, what was
it? It looked unhappy?”
Katerina’s huge, brown eyes rolled and she corrected her

friend.
“Nyet. Cos I looked unhappy. He thought I’d like a flower.

But, eet vos not a flower, eet vos small bush of flowers, with
root still on.”
149
Niki burst into hearty laughter, and Katerina did the same,
as she laid fully dressed in her empty bathtub. Kat peeked
over the edge at the pot that housed the bush, curious at how
the soft pink flowers were blooming more and more as the
days crept on.
“Niki, how does eet bloom in December? He confuses me. I

feel like I am going mad.”
Niki loosened her caramel-streaked hair from the rollers

and dragged a brush through it, laughing loudly into the
phone.
“Aww, such a cynic. Maybe he’s a florist back in Scotland.”
“Ireland.”
“Whatever. Sounds like he’s from fucking Mars. I’m almost

done. I’ll see you in an hour. I got all your new papers and id’s.”
An hour later the women were sitting over dinner in a busy

restaurant in one of the five neighbouring boroughs. Light
snow dusted the street as the frigid cold was set into the
Northeast. Niki slid a large, vanilla packet to Katerina
containing photos, an id card, and a passport; an entirely new
identity and past life. She didn’t look in the packet just yet.
Instead, they ate eggplant Parmesan on a red and white
checkered tablecloth, with a drippy candle flickering between
them.
“What do you think is with this guy? He brings you flowers.”
Katerina interrupted, “Eet vos a flower bush.”
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D. VONTHAER
“He brings you a flower bush, fixes your studio.”
“And, he made me dinner one night. Eet vos awful. I think he

tried. Shepherd pie he called it.”
“He tries to fatten you up with nasty foreign food. He talks a

lot?”
“He says not a lot. But, I catch him some mornings

exercising. He hangs from zee rafters, and pulls his body up. He
does not like wearing a shirt.”
“Oh yeah? Has he you know, touched you?”
Katerina’s fork slipped to her plate with a loud clink and she
brought her napkin to her lips. Shaking her head, she took her
glass of wine while Niki watched, now very curious. Katerina
could hide precious little. She sat the now empty glass down,
her cheeks pink.
“Nyet. I think I’d faint.”
“Come on, you’ve been on the lam for a couple months now.
He seems clean and only a little weird. Give him a try. It’s
almost Christmas, although if he’s as big as you say, you might
need more wine.”
Niki chuckled and had a drink as well, her face filling with
colour from the warmth of dinner, the candle, and now the
fine burgundy. Katerina’s face was beet red and she started
shaking her head. Her finger slid around the rim of her glass,
giving off a high pitched sound. Niki sat her glass down and
clamped her hand over the dancer’s and looked at her
curiously.
151
“I, um, never had a you know, boyfriend.”
Niki stared at her, her mouth agape. She sort of nervously

chuckled, and then looked again, wondering if she was
serious.
“You never had a boyfriend? You mean. Oh my fuck.

Katerina? Are you a, virgin?”
Katerina nodded.
Not much else was said through dinner. The awkward

silence only broken once they were back in the city, walking
down the chilly sidewalks with the other holiday shoppers.
Their arms were locked as they strolled, Niki felt like a giant
next to Katerina who was over half a foot shorter.
“Why?”
“Why vot?”
“Why are you, haven’t you? I mean, how old are you,
Katerina?”
“I’ll be twenty-seven this month. And I am waiting for

marriage.”
Niki looking forward, her expression confused and shocked

at once. Katerina’s voice cut through the awkwardness, like
she was looking for someone to tell a long-held secret.
“You know, one day, he called me a prude.”
“The mental patient?”

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D. VONTHAER
“I don’t think he meant it unkind. I think he meant to say

prudent. But vot he says eez not always vot he says.”
“Sometimes what you say isn’t always what I hear either. Oh,
sweetie. Look.”
Niki stopped suddenly outside of a line of stores bustling

with shoppers and holiday music that filled every inch of the
city. She looked around to all of the people walking by,
thinking how weird it would be to have never had a boyfriend.
Ever. Hell, she was looking forward to cozying up to Mister
Right-for-the-Moment later.
“That’s awesome you’re waiting and all. That’s not something

most women can do, especially once they pass twenty-one.
You’re the most dedicated, serious, intense person I know.
Maybe what he was saying in his incoherent way is that you
look like you need to loosen up.”
“Maybe I do. But this eez new for me, you know? He looks at
me sometimes, and uh. I mean, how many boyfriends have you
known?”
Niki laughed nervously and started walking again, pulling

Katerina along with her. She was not going to answer that
question. They went downtown for a while and Niki pulled
her into a small store that was brightly lit with artist’s pictures
all along the walls, a canvas to the cases of small jewelry.
“Vot are we doing in a tattoo parlor?”
“Proving you’re no prude.”
“I am not getting a tattoo.”

153
“Okay, how about a piercing?”
“My ears are already pierced, Niki.”
She loved how she said her name. It was drawn out like,
‘Neekey.’ Snorting, she dragged the ballerina to a book and a
case of jewelry. There were all kinds of gems and barbells and
pictures of tongues and bellybuttons adorned with small
jewels. Katerina was shaking her head and taking deep
breaths, and Niki starting nudging her shoulder.
“I can’t do my belly. Eet might pull when I dance.”
“Shit, I didn’t even think about that.”
The singer stood there, and scanned pages, until she paused
abruptly, pulled Katerina close to her. She started whispering
animatedly into her ear, one finger held up to silence the guy
behind the counter as she pleaded her case. Katerina’s hands
covered her entire face as she shook her head emphatically.
Finally, Niki pulled back and offered one last comfort.
“I will if you will.”
“Oy vey, easy for you to say, yours eez not intact.”
Nodding in agreement, Niki chuckled and started talking

again before Katerina changed her mind. They were led into
the back by a short, heavily tattooed man with huge holes in
his ears, a shaved head, and a book on ancient Aztec art
tucked under his arm. Niki went first, and winced a little bit,
making a sort of noise before it was all done. When it was
Kat’s turn, Niki held her hand, trying to convince her it was
just like going to a doctor’s office. Katerina’s shriek was so
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D. VONTHAER
loud and shrill, she scared away some of the awaiting

customer’s. Both women left walking funny, and Niki held
Katerina by the shoulder as she hailed a cab.
“You should have job with police. You are expert negotiator,
Niki. How you talked me into…”
“Does yours hurt? Mine feels a little kind of good.”
Katerina shot her a look as they carefully got into the cab.
They stopped in front of Katerina’s apartment building, and
Niki stuffed the envelope deep into the dancer’s bag along
with the packet from the piercing guy.
“Scott and I want to take you out for your birthday, maybe
the day after Christmas? I’m sorry, I’m singing Christmas Eve.
I’ll call you sweetie.”
The cab pulled away once Katerina was safe in her

apartment, and Niki saw the bathroom light click on while
they sat at the stoplight. Her friend seemed happy sometimes,
but she had to be lonely, especially this time of year. The cab
crept through traffic and she decided she had to see some
things with her own eyes. She had the cab drop her off on a
corner where Chinatown met Little Italy. Light graffiti
covered the post boxes, and the food smelled so good on both
sides, it made even her full stomach ache a little.
She went to the glass door of Katerina’s dance studio, or

what would become her dance studio once the paperwork was
complete. Peering through the glass, she saw him in there,
supposedly working. Though she had been warned of his size,
even her jaw dropped a little bit at first glance. She tried the
door, and it was open. Clearing her throat, she walked in like
155
she owned the place. She strolled over to him with a bounce
in her step, her heels echoing as she strode across the room
towards him.
“Hey. I’m Monica, but Katerina calls me Niki. Whoa. Are you
fucking stupid?”
She stopped short and step backwards as Aodh turned

towards her, his fingers clasping two live wires sticking out of
the wall.
“Not particularly, Monica.. Are yeh daft? Or, was that a sort
of trick question?”
Aodh turned around, his face not as smooth as stubble had

turned into a short beard. He was wearing an extraordinarily
tight pair of red sweat pants and a football jersey from about
the mid seventies, that was too tight, too short, and left very
little to the imagination of what lie beneath the cloth. Niki
went towards him with trepidation, and stood in the doorway
that led to the back. Staring at him briefly, she turned in a
huff and went to inspect the sink, only to find it caulked
properly. She went back to Aodh, and folded her arms, her
neck having to crane upwards to look at him.
“How long do you think you’ll be around?”
“Until it’s complete.”
“Then where are you going?”
“Not sure, might go back home, actually.”
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D. VONTHAER
“Is there a wife, girlfriend, baby momma, prison sentence

back home that you’re ignoring or running away from?”
Aodh left the wiring alone, and faced her fully, looking
down into her eyes that tried so hard to pierce through him.
“None of the above.”
Niki’s expression lightened, though she swayed in her stance

awkwardly, like she had to use the restroom.
“Hmm. Well, Katerina’s birthday is next week, Christmas Eve.

I have a singing engagement, so I won’t be able to celebrate
with her. I don’t think she should be alone, do you?”
Aodh grinned, but tried to contain himself and shook his

head.
“Nah, that would be tragic.”
“Yes, it would. Especially for someone like her. And I don’t

know what your deal is, but I’ll figure it out. So, how about you
leave the shrubbery at home, buy the girl some flowers that
don’t still have the dirt on them, and take her someplace nice.”
Niki reached into her handbag and pulled out a wad of

hundreds, and handed it out to him. Aodh looked at it, but
stepped back, shaking his head.
“I don’t need yer money.”
“Look, I want her to have a good time, take it. I want to know
she’ll enjoy herself.”
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Aodh took the cash in his hand, and examined it, thinking it
looked odd and sort of funny. Then he stepped closer to Niki,
and bent down to her face as his hand shoved the roll of cash
back into her pricey handbag.
“And wot makes yeh think she needs a wad of loot to enjoy
herself? I have this sorted, but cheers all the same.”
Niki was taken aback by him getting into her face the way
he did. Though his voice was never raised, it’s deep, grainy
tone made her ears itch and the hairs on the back of her neck
stand on end. Shrugging, she walked away from him, and
went towards the door.
“Don’t try anything slick. I’ll have your ass on a spike.”
“I’d never think of it. And it’s head on a pike.”
Annoyed, Niki backed out of the door, and got into the
nearest cab. Aodh chuckled to himself, a plan already
blossoming in his mind.
The morning of Christmas Eve came with steely skies and a

grim chill that forced everyone to bundle up. Katerina came
late to practise, and caught Aodh once again shirtless and
dripping of sweat. The new, perfect line of soft flood lights
over the barre had been installed overnight. She played with
the dimmer a minute to try and occupy her eyes instead of
staring at the machinery of man working out on her still
unfinished floor.
“You are doing wonderful job, Aodh. Really. Eet’s so pretty. I

can’t wait to dance in a proper studio!”
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D. VONTHAER
“Cheers, doll. Erm, love. I meant, Kat. I’ll get to the floors
soon enough. Cold out, eh?”
He made a face and attempted to change the subject as he

grabbed his t-shirt from the chair and wiped his face, hoping
she didn’t catch his verbal blunders. But, she did. And it made
her smile so big, her face hurt. She hung her coat in the back
and walked back to the front, wondering why he had such a
strange look on his face. And then she realised, it was so huge,
she should have noticed it straightaway. A tall, full Christmas
tree was in the corner with drippy candles on the branches.
She went to it, and touched the branches gingerly before
turning to him.
“Aodh, you did this for me? I forgot a tree zis year. They are
real candles!”
He pulled his t-shirt over his head that had a picture of

some old television commercial faded on the front, and in
bright yellow. Aodh handed her a wood carving of something
that looked a bit like an angel, only with bigger, more
colourful wings like a butterfly, and a mischievous look
decorating her wooden face.
“Oh! Eet’s beautiful! Where did you find..?”
“Erm, I made it. From a bit of wood. Had some extra paint.
Thought yeh might like it.”
Katerina touched it lovingly, went over to the tree, and

asked, “Can you bring me a ladder, Aodh?”
He chuckled, and walked over to her. He bent down,

snatched her off the floor and placed her on his shoulder. She
159
held on to his neck, feeling his slick sweat under her

fingertips as he leaned in for her to place the winged girl on
the top of the tree. Once in place, Aodh pretended to let
Katerina fall, only to catch her, and hold her for a moment
before righting her on her feet.
“Thank you, Aodh. Eez beautiful. Merry Christmas.”
He nodded as his fingers stroked a bit of her exposed neck

before pulling his hand away, murmuring something
sounding like, “Right, cheers, welcome. Happy, erm, holiday.”
Aodh left rather abruptly, leaving her feeling a bit deflated.

Alone, she decided complete some of the paperwork. Hours
went by, and she glanced over at the tall evergreen in the
corner, almost convinced the angelic carving winked at her.
Deciding to take a break, she was wrapping a scarf around her
neck when she thought the wings lit up, just for a fraction of a
second. She thought she was losing her mind. Katerina took
the packet to the post office, the cool air unable to penetrate
the warmth she felt. Kat went back to the studio, but the door
caught instead of closing, and she turned to see a girl
standing there. Katerina stepped back quickly, surprised. The
girl had her head down, like she was afraid to look up. Her
hair was long and dark, covering her face. She stepped in just
barely and let the door close as her face turned up, almost as
slow as the door.
“Hi. I’m a...uh...a.. dancer. When do you think you’ll open?”
Katerina sighed in relief, and looked around, doing fuzzy

math in her head.
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D. VONTHAER
“After zee holidays I presume. Have you studied long? I’m

Kater, uhm, Kat Petra. My aunt used to have zis school, and
she has passed away. I thought I should do some repairs before
eet opens again. Come in.”
The girl stepped in and looked nervous, which for once

made Kat feel like she should overcome her own shyness.
Especially if she was to teach. The girl looked around a little,
but seemed more interested in Katerina than in the school.
Her hair was away from her face now, revealing bluish-brown
eyes, which Kat found most peculiar. They had rings of each
colour, blue inside the brown, making them look very distinct
and sharp. The girl smiled with a nervous laugh, and ran her
fingers through her straight hair.
“I’m Maria. I took lessons my whole life until about a year

ago. I wanted to get back into it, but the big schools are so
expensive.”
“Nice to meet you Maria. Well, I don’t know about zee age, I
vos going to teach young girls. But, if you like, we can dance a
bit, have a warm up? I ‘ave not set up classes yet.”
The girl nodded so enthusiastically, her hair slid all over her
shoulder, like her hair was waving back. She stripped off her
coat, and walked in further, giving Kat a shock at how at ease
she suddenly seemed to be. They went to her supply closet,
and Katerina found her a pair of slippers. They changed their
shoes, Maria leaving her white sneakers by one of the paint
buckets, and they went to the barre. The music began and
they started, Maria copying Kat’s instruction easily, and
performing fluidly.
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She had great form, Kat examined, but needed some

polishing. Even she felt rusty from not dancing with a partner
for the past couple months. They turned towards the window,
and Katerina smiled at her, and walked behind the girl,
offering her mild guidance on her posture.
“Excellent, you ‘ave not lost much by way of form. Can you
follow?”
Katerina got to her toes, and the girl followed, and they
danced in canon, Maria doing each of Katerina’s steps just
two positions behind. They danced for a good while, building
up a healthy sweat when a knock came at the door. Both
women paused, and Katerina looked cautiously at a man
outside. He only knocked, but didn’t come in, though the
door was open. He had a square box that he held up, and
Katerina opened the door for him. Still, he didn’t come in, just
left the square box in her hands and turned with a polite
smile. She sat it on the desk, the girl just watching. Katerina
picked up one of Aodh’s many screwdrivers he left lying
about. Wincing, she sat down in her chair and brought her
foot up to her knee. Her toes were bleeding again. Perhaps
she had been too hard on them lately, after all. The girl stared
at her, looking like she would be sick. And then she ran. She
grabbed her coat, left her shoes and took off as fast as her legs
could carry her.
Kat start tried to say something, but she couldn’t even

think. Bending her head to the box, she listened. It was silent.
Taking the screwdriver to the box, she sliced it open. It was a
pair of ice skates. Dropping the screwdriver, she picked them
up, her eyes and smile brightly lighting her face. They were
white and smooth, and hidden under the thin tissue paper
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was a picture of an enormous tree. She turned it over and saw

in small, kind of scribbled writing: 18:00.
She started to giggle and ran to the tree. She blew out all of
the candles, and then blew a big, affectionate kiss to the
angelic girl atop. However, she had to pause at her door,
ready to swear the fixture blew a kiss back. Frantically, she
hauled herself home to shower and change, hugging the
skates tightly .
Her cab pulled up to Rockefeller Center, the multi-coloured

lights on the massive tree lit the ice rink and reached out to
sprinkle red and green on her face as she watched through the
window. Bouncing from the cold and nerves, she waited on a
bench, but she couldn’t see Aodh anywhere. Curiosity was
killing her, so she strapped on the skates and tentatively took
to the ice. She hadn’t been on ice in years. Slowly she began to
glide, trying not to fall; she had almost forgotten how easy it
had been to skate. She’d spent her winters on ice as a child,
bundled like an Eskimo all winter long, far before she spent
her life en pointe. A wide school-girl grin plastered across her
face as the wind whipped through her hair, and she circled
the rink. Then, her was there. Standing under the cover of the
tree, a deep smile on his face, and his eyes sparkling.
“Come out with me!”
“No way! I’ll fall through. Go on, I’ll watch. Yer doing a bang-
up job, Doll. Erm, Kat.”
Katerina skated over to him, breathing quick through her

unreserved smile and pulled at his sweater. Her lips chattered
a second when a gust of cool wind blew. She tugged at him,
but he was still as stone.
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“Come. I can help. Trust me!”
Aodh grunted like a Neanderthal, and took her hands,

which felt nearly frozen. He removed his sweater, and as the
fabric pulled from his skin a new shirt slipped over his body,
as if it had been under there all of the time. Sliding it over her
head to keep her warm, he chuckled heartily; the thing went
down to her knees.
“Fine, but if I crush yeh, don’t go saying it hurts.”
“If you crush me, I don’t think I’ll have much to say.”
After negotiating with the man behind the counter for the
largest skates they had, he followed her to the rink. He was
not as sleek and graceful as Kat, but he did his best not to fall.
After some time, she was gliding along backwards, holding his
hands as he watched her. He could stare at her for days.
“Happy Birthday, Kat. Ready for the next?”
Katerina slowed down, and he took one of her hands, lifted

it over her head and she spun around again and again, her
laugh inspiring everyone near to join in. After leaving the
skates behind, proud no one was horrifically mangled or
maimed, they walked through the city, chatting about
everything and anything.
“How old are yeh, love?”
“Twenty-seven. How old are you, Aodh?”
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He cleared his throat, and shook his head a little bit, giving
a vague answer whilst she tried to walk fast to keep up with
his stride.
“Just a wee bit older.”
“Really? You don’t look over 35. I’d guess 33, I think.”
“Thirty-three? Blimey, that sounds like a good number, guess

we can go with that.”
“Vot?”
“Wot?”
Reaching down, he took her small hand and held it in his,

which made her completely forget what they were saying. He
stopped outside of a club, and looked at Kat with a grin, as
she had his sweater close to her, smelling it. She let it go
quickly, and she looked away like a kid who got caught with
her hand in the cookie jar.
“Want to hear some great music?”
He stepped to the side, revealing a sign for Niki’s show, and

he pulled her inside before she could protest. They sat in the
front, and Kat suddenly looked uncomfortable, like she
shouldn’t be there. He thought she’d have wanted to see her
friend, especially on her birthday. The lights dimmed, and a
woman came on stage to introduce the night’s performers as a
waitress walked around taking drink orders. She went to fetch
Aodh’s whiskey and Katerina’s white wine when a man came
on stage and began his set. They watched for a few minutes,
but she seemed nervous and fidgety. Their drinks were sat on
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the table, and Aodh tipped his glass to her. She barely sipped,
and kept looking around like she was going to be in trouble.
Aodh stood, offering his hand.
“May I have a dance, m'lady?”
Katerina left her skates under the table, and she nodded
giving him her hand. The small dance floor was crowded, but
Aodh’s sheer girth seemed to make everyone want to get out
of his way. They moved slowly to the soft strumming of the
guitar, as he held on to her hand. She was looking up to him,
straining her neck to see his face when she began to blush.
His eyes followed hers, and he turned his head around, looked
up and saw a bunch of mistletoe hanging over his head. He
looked back down and grinned wickedly. Picking her up from
the floor, he held her face to his as her legs slid around his
waist. His nose brushed over hers making her eyes close, as he
slid his hand over her smooth cheek, cupping her face. He
paused at how perfectly beautiful she was; it mesmerised him.
His mouth to hers, he kissed her pink, soft lips.
Katerina’s fingers dipped into Aodh’s deep dimples that

gave his very masculine, chiseled face the look of a young,
mischievous lad residing behind the layers of thick muscle
and unshaven beard. Their faces lingered together, still, silent,
as the music continued and the patrons danced around them.
Each of their minds were recalling their brief time together.
Stolen moments when he’d be caught watching her lace her
slippers, or she’d be at a loss of words when she’d walk in to
find his shirt sweat-soaked, plastered to his rippled body, and
she’d just excuse herself made them both forget they were
surrounded by people. The guitar stopped, and the dance
floor cleared.
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Her face flushed, Katerina croaked out something about

sitting back down, and Aodh obliged. They sat over dinner,
where he had to encourage her to eat, but she didn’t put up so
much of a fight this time. Out of a nervous habit, she kept
tugging at the cross charm around her neck, pulling it out of
his sweater she still wore, twirling it between her fingers. He
couldn’t help but notice her do it, and he took the small
charm between his fingers.
“Why do you wear this?”
Covering his hand with her own, she seemed taken aback by
his question.
“As symbol of my faith. Why you ask? You don’t believe in

God?”
Aodh let go, but remained leaning in so he could examine

her face, watch her eyes, feel her breath.
“I believe in god. God is not wot you wear round yer neck.
Some believe in other, older gods. Many actually.”
“Older? Many? Vot do you mean?”
Aodh began to speak but he paused; Niki had come on to

the stage. Kat looked to Niki, but her eyes kept going back to
Aodh. She slid off the borrowed sweater, and laid it across her
lap. She kept giving him a look, letting him know she was not
finished. Niki stood at the mic and addressed the audience,
wishing them all a Happy Christmas when Katerina tapped
Aodh’s hand, wanting an explanation.
“You not going to answer me?”

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“I don’t want to start a row on yer birthday. However, there

are religions and beliefs far older than this one, not everyone
was converted so easily.”
This was not the way he wanted the evening to go. His
curious mind just couldn’t have kept his damned mouth shut.
Dru must have worn on him with her quick wit and unfiltered
mouth. Dru. He’d missed her, and tried to contact her, but
she wasn’t allowing him in. Some nights he’d lie on the floor,
holding the sweater in his hand whilst the other traced the
ballerina’s steps, wondering if a mortal existence was what
he’d be better off living. What else would there be if the rest
of his kin were gone?
Katerina wasn’t letting this go, she wasn’t even looking at

her best friend on the stage, just watching Aodh’s eyes,
deliberating.
“You ‘ave different faith?”
“Aye, yeh can say that. We can chat later on it, don’t yeh
want to hear yer mate?”
Katerina’s mouth opened like she was about to say

something, but she didn’t. Her hands fidgeted under the table
as she listened to Niki sing in her soulful, cooing voice, and
she slid the sweater onto Aodh’s lap. Aodh felt her little hand
touch him, and he grinned, until he realised she had given it
back. He clenched it tight, squashing the threads in his hand,
wanting to remedy this quarrel. The thing was, he thought he
shouldn’t have to. He was not a normal bloke. As much as he
tried to act like one, that wasn’t the truth. In his view,
Katerina deserved, if nothing else, truth.
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Chapter 11
Daemon’s Den
Weeks had come and gone, and Dru hadn’t seen so much as
a sliver of sky, or a blade of grass since arriving. She woke
with a groan, slid from the bed and padded towards the
bathroom. Her bare feet slapped against the smooth, cool
floor and she shut herself in. It was dark, and she fumbled
around for the lights. She knew there was no such switch to
illuminate the room, but repetition made her do the same
thing, day in and day out. Brackets hanging on the wall burst
into life, casting a flickering light from the flames that
bounced off of the gold-gilded surfaces.
It wasn’t a bathroom like most people would imagine, it was

more like walking into an indoor swimming pool. Instead of a
lap pool with blue lines and concrete floors, every inch
glowed gold. A vast pool sunk into the middle of the area,
surrounded by enormous pillars that went from the marble
floors to the ceiling that was so high, she couldn’t even make
out the carved depictions. Mirrors made up all four walls,
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running from the floor to a few feet taller than Dru. They
were seamless, encompassed in golden carved frames.
She stole a glance at herself, and couldn’t bear to allow her

eyes to linger more than a moment. Purplish bruises soiled
her usually flawless complexion; imprints of fingertips left
their mark on her upper arm, her breasts had marks from
teeth, and long thin scratches were etched into her back. A
rush of water poured into the pool, flowing from the animal-
depicted mouths of four taps perched on each corner of the
bath. The one nearest Dru was the head of a lion, and she
stepped into the bath, one narrow stair at a time.
Once submerged, a dozen beautiful women rose from the

surface. They weren’t just pretty; but exquisitely so with long,
shining onyx hair, and skin so radiant, it made even the
golden fixtures dull in comparison. They began to bathe her,
dipping her head into the water, massaging heavily scented,
spicy oils into her skin, running their hands over her body
methodically. Her eyes closed, as they did each day, allowing
them to coat her skin with musky, alluring scents and gentle
touches. Her hair was massaged by half a dozen hands,
working her long, wavy locks into a scented lather that could
easily lull her back to sleep. She winced here and there as the
marks on her skin stung from the mixture of hot water and
soaps, but she went with it, allowing the pain to scorch at her,
inside and out. The women swarmed her, tangling her in a
web of silk as they bathed each inch of her body.
Her head was dipped into the water again, and when she
came up, the women backed away. Using her own hands, she
wiped away the water from her stinging eyes to see Kas there
in the water with them. The women went to him, and began
to bathe him. Dru bounded backwards to a wall. Kas watched
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her, eyes never blinking as the women slipped their hands

over his equally dark skin, though his was not as flawless as
theirs. He too bore marks of teeth, nails, and a thick, deep
maroon line encircled his neck.
“Witch, come bathe me with your sisters.”
The women chanced a look at Dru, but never did they pause
in their duty. Dru got further away, and leaned her back
against the edge of the bath.
“Erm, they aren’t my sisters, I’m not only a witch, and make
me.”
Several of the women slowed down, and looked to each

other, then to Dru, but never daring to look Kas in the eye.
His eyes flashed angrily, and they all sank into the water
without so much as a ripple. The pool appeared empty
momentarily, until Kas slid upwards through the water in
front of Dru, slipping up her body right from the water, and
pushed himself into her. His hand took hold of her face, and
he, squeezed her cheeks hard.
“You disrespect me, again and again, Face.”
A long, spear-like black nail slid from his thumb, and he

traced it over Dru’s lips.
“Yer not going to make me into a slave, Kas. I’d rather yeh kill
me first.”
“You say that like it will be without pain. Then again, you
seem to enjoy certain pains.”
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His nail pierced her lip, and Dru smacked his face with a
wet, stinging hand. He pushed harder into her body, making
her back scratch up against the tap in the corner that was in
the shape of beast that sort of looked like an anteater, only
with slanted eyes and squared ears. It’s spout dug into her
already hurt back, and she tried to pull away from him. Water
splashed around them as he watched her squirm, all the while
grinning calmly.
“Please, yer the one who loves it. Haven’t left me alone for a
minute since I got here.”
Kas sucked on one of his teeth, which was sharper and

longer and thinner than a normal tooth, but not quite a fang
either. He loosened his grip on Dru’s face. His hand left her
face to squeeze her sides, gripping her hard as he examined
her defiant face. She stared back at him, her gaze firm. Every
time he’d get rough with her, she pushed back taunting him
to just kill her, hurt her, end her misery. Though, the more
she gave, the more he seemed to like it, and the more
attentive he became.
“And what would you do, if I left you to your lonesome?” He

questioned.
Dru snorted, “Sleep.”
Moments like these, he’d soften slightly, his grip on her body
would become almost gentle. His sharp spear-like nail
retracted back into his skin, and he kissed her bleeding lip. It
was trailing down her chin, and he took one long swipe of his
tongue to clean it from her face before kissing her. Dru could
taste her spilt blood, not an unfamiliar taste since coming to
the desert. The sleeping quarters bore new evidence daily of
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their extreme physicality; shredded and stained bedding,

dented ancient relics, marks carved into the bedpost that
looked like a mountain lion had sharpened it’s claws.
His hand slid up her back, and she pulled away for a
moment, the hot water stinging her open wounds. He
wouldn’t let her move far, and her face turned away, trying to
swallow away the stinging feeling of his fingers penetrating
her skin, gauging her flesh. Teeth and eyes clenched; they
popped open suddenly. He had a gentler touch, and the
feeling that her skin was being ripped faded away.
Dru looked at him, and he pulled her out of the water, and
sat her on the edge. He spread her legs and stood between
them, examining his handiwork displayed on her fair skin. He
worked his dark hands over her wet skin, sealing open
wounds, and lightening the multitude of bruises covering her.
Her hand slid into his longish black hair, pushing it off of his
forehead, and his eyes met hers. She tilted his head
backwards, leaned in, and drew her lips over the burn mark
around his neck left by use of a braided bit of rope the
previous night. Her fingers went to his neck, and he grabbed
her wrists and pulled her back into the water.
They sank beneath the surface and hit the floor of the pool.
She fought back as best she could, her breath taken, her hair
covering her face. Faintness was overtaking her head, forcing
her eyes to close, and her resistance to wane. She woke in Kas’
bed, with him sitting next to her, drawing his finger along the
tattoo resting low on her belly.
“Wot happened?”
“Well, look who the butterflies dragged in.”

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“Heh?”
“We were playing in the bath when a rather large school of

butterflies issued from you, and carried you above the surface.
Do you call them schools?”
“Flutter.”
“Yes, they fluttered, and underwater which I find impressive.

They even left imprints under your skin for a while, until just
now, when you opened your eyes, Face.”
“No, they aren’t schools. A group is called a flutter, and they

came cos yeh were killing me yeh prick.”
“We were just playing. So sensitive. What I’d like to know,

Face, is how they came. I’ve blocked your magic.”
“Fuck if I know. Maybe they just don’t like yeh.”
Sounds of feet scurrying around the room made her turn her
head; a dozen women were fussing over trays of food and
drinks, and exited through tall copper and bronze doors with
emblazoned with ornate depictions. Kas helped Dru to sit up,
and she noticed she was wearing layers of silk in green and
blue, wrapped expertly around her body to look like a dress,
hanging from one shoulder. He sat her down in a chair not
unlike a throne, and he sat across from her as a new group of
women fell in line through the doors to serve, pour wine, and
generally fuss over them. He seemed very much at ease with
them touching him, placing cloth on his lap, even cutting
meat and feeding it to him. One woman touched Dru’s wild
mane, and Dru smacked her away.
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“Piss off!”
Kas waved his hand and they retreated. Dru glared at him,
and drained a goblet of wine as quickly as it could make it
down her throat.
“They’re here to assist, you need to become accustomed.”
“Serve is more like it. I have no intention of becoming

accustomed to a harem of women washing me, feeding me, and
touching my hair.”
His eyes were still their shade of cinnamon, which told her
he wasn’t truly angry, yet. It was when they deepened to the
color of blood that she knew true pain was to come.
“You disagree with the way I run my home?”
Dru sat down her goblet, and crossed one leg over the other,
highly aware how tight her thighs felt under the gown. Kas
picked up an ornamental knife with a snake curled around the
pearl handle, toying with it menacingly as Dru spoke.
“I think yer a big bloke who can cut his own damned steak.”
“I’ve offered you to be one of my concubines. They are the

most beautiful in all the world. I’ve hand picked each of them,
one more perfect than the next. Yet you refuse.”
“Concubines? Aye, they’re lovely mate, congratulations. I

have a great collection of vinyl records. Some are scratched,
some are really rare, some have coffee stains…”
175
The knife whizzed by Dru’s head, and she moved in just

enough time to feel only the gust of wind slice through her
hair. She reached up to her face, and touched a spot of blood
from her nicked cheek. She stood and overturned the table,
sending the platters flying, dumping hot sauces and food into
his lap. She went to the door, and tried to get through it,
slapping her hands against the metal, calling for someone to
let her out. Kas came up behind her, and pressed her face into
the door, making one of the carved ornaments embed into her
newly bleeding cheek.
“You think those women are beneath you? You think you are
better than them? You think any are held against her will?”
Kas’ lips were against Dru’s ear, and she could hear people
scattering on the other side of the door. Swallowing, she let
out a bored-sounding laugh.
“Fuck yes I’m better than them. And I am held here against
my will. And I’ll have yeh kill me before I go cutting yer meat
and washin’ yer arse, yeh spoilt fucking git. How old are you? A
fucking nursery student who can’t wash his own bollocks? Fuck
off, and let me go. You know wot? Go fetch me a fag, a real one,
not that brown piss yeh keep sucking day after bloody day. And
make my coffee strong while yer at it.”
His hand gripped the back of her hair, and he pulled her
face away from the door to have her lips. Kas’ tongue snaked
into her mouth before he let go and slammed her face into
the door. Dru slid to the floor and he turned away from her to
light one of his thin brown cigarettes. Stumbling to her feet,
she leaned back onto the doors, and conjured a similar
cigarette to smoke. She could hear women whispering on the
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other side of the door. She kicked her foot against it, and
screamed through the cigarette lit between her lips.
“Oi, piss off!”
“You used magic, again. How?”
Dru shrugged, feeling exhausted, and Kas walked to her.

Dru slapped him away and he gripped her arm firmly, and led
her to the bed where he threw her down, contemplating her.
She smacked back at him, and threw the cigar-tasting
cigarette at him, his face remaining unchanged.
“You may be correct. Those women are beneath you. You

don’t quit. Everyone submits, eventually. And you will too. I
will be the one to break you, and I’ll enjoy it. I just enjoy
fucking you too much to let you go, or slit your throat. So,
then. It’s decided.”
Dru flung herself back onto one of the lush pillows, kicking
the silky bedding away from her feet and ripping the gown
from her body. Everything felt annoying and tight, and she
started snatching things from the tables and hurtling them
across the room. Kas opened the door, and a flood of women
came into the room to tend to the considerable mess Dru
made. Kas started to leave, but turned just as the last
Cimmerian-haired beauty filed into the room.
“Prepare your new queen. Be warned, she’s feisty.”
Dru sat up like a shot in the bed, and the women encircled
her, touching her dress and hair, fawning over her while her
voice rang out after him. But, the gold emblazoned door
sealed her in.
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Dru didn’t see Kas much in the coming weeks. She had been
moved to another room, which was more opulent than the
one she had been in previously. This one held a separate room
for dressing, with gowns and decadent headpieces that she
was forced into day after day. Not that she had much to
complain about, other than the fact she couldn’t leave,
couldn’t perform magic, and couldn’t stand being touched.
Kas rarely showed his face now, but he left her odd,
extravagant gifts every morning.
Once, it was a statue made entirely in his likeness in black

marble. Another night it was a tray of loose gemstones that
she used to play chess. One day she woke to a vault tucked
into the wall large enough for a football team to stand in with
their arms outstretched. It housed bricks of pure gold stacked
in the form of a great pyramid. Another day he left a
beautifully crafted Sphinx made entirely of sapphires,
emeralds and rubies.
Dru vacantly stared out to her room that was littered with
gems and statues and antiquities, thinking of her sunflowers
blowing in a warm breeze. Or her garden gate that would
stick every spring from the lavender that grew thick and full
made her nose itch from the imagined scent. She could be
alone in her cottage, day after day, and stare out to the sea
with nothing more than a cup of tea, and never feel lonely for
a moment. Here, surrounded by people and treasures, she felt
even more alone than ever.
Kas attempted to sit for dinner with her one night. She was
bored, and feeling hateful. She interrupted their meal, with a
wide grin on her face, questioning him with a false
excitement.
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“Kas, sweetheart. I had a thought. I was wondering, where are

the gods and goddesses? I mean, if you’re the big, bad man,
where’s the knights in white, shining armour?”
Dru’s lips were sealed shut for the remainder of the day. As
he left, his voice crept through her, sending chills like
daggers. She knew he’d retaliate, and almost didn’t care so
long as it ruined his night.
Use them only to kiss me, speak my name, and eat three
meals a day, or they will remain sealed.
The following day, she neither kissed him, nor spoke his
name, and she refused to eat. The only thing she did in his
presence was smoke like a chimney; lighting two, three, four
cigarettes at a time, mocking his little game. They ended up
on the table, dishes and serving platters crashing to the floor
as he smacked the cigarettes from her mouth.
Dru slapped him back, and again, and he merely grinned at

her as she stung her hands on his face. Fine goblets of
handmade wine went flying, soiling the pristine floor. He
threw her onto the table, giving no care if a knife or fork
could be in the way. His white tailored shirt was soaked in
blood-red wine, allowing his taut, fit skin to show through the
wet cloth. A vein on his shoulder was particularly noticeable,
as it had a tendency to pulsate like a raging river when his
blood was heated.
“You don’t listen, Face.”
“I have a name, prick.”
“Your name is Face. And your face, it haunts me.”

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Dru paused on the table. He was leaning over her, wine

dripping onto her face, his eyes raking her face and breasts
that couldn’t quite be contained in the fine, unstructured
fabric. His tongue rolled over his lips, looking hungry, like a
beast before a fawn.
“I can’t get enough of you. You invade my dreams. You make

my body want you, even after I’ve already had you.”
He hovered over her, bulging out of his dark pants that

refused to remain buttoned. He pulled her body to him,
grasping her hips firmly. She pushed his chest away, and his
eyes continued to scan her, his hand peeling away the layers
of fabric wrapping his prize. Dru didn’t like this look, and
tried to pull his attention away from her flesh.
“Yeh said something about yer Queen.”
“I did. You’ll want for nothing by my side. You will surpass my

other wives. They will worship you.”
“Wot? Wives? Plural? You’re already married, to more than

one?”
“Face, do you really think one woman can contain me? Can
you contain me?”
“They can have yeh. Get off of me, Kas. That’s enough of this
rubbish, I want to go home.”
“Oh, you are mine. And, you are home.”
“Get off of me, I’m done. Go play with yer harem dream
house. Let me go.”
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“No. I don’t think that works for me. Now, scream like a good
girl. Just how I like it.”
His teeth dragged along her fleshy inner thigh, and he

pushed right past her hand attempting to hold him at bay.
She tried to wriggle away, but he opened his mouth, and sank
his razor-like teeth into her thigh, penetrating muscle and
flesh as her blood squirted from the puncture. Dru screamed
for help, her voice broken. He tore at the fibrous muscle,
ripping away from her thigh with a mouthful of her flesh in
his mouth. She was left screaming, pleading for someone to
help, her voice going unnoticed.
“Aodh! Help me! Aodh, PLEASE!”
Kas spat on the floor. Dru’s leg bled profusely, and he leaned
over her terrified face as her blood dripped from his lips. His
cinnamon eyes that had been filled with nothing more than
lust a moment before changed to that dangerous shade
matching her blood. This time, inky spots tarnished them.
“You’re mine. MINE. I get what I want, and who I want. Stop
thinking you’re any different. This face? Mine. I’ll rip it off the
bone if I feel like it. This body? I’ll fry it with a dark sauce and
pick my teeth while watching your head sit on a platter if I
want. Understand? Do you? You are MINE.”
As he spoke his fingers pulled and tore at her skin, raking

those spear-like nails over her skin. His thumbs stuck into her
skin, and what had been short, sharp nails, grew into long
spikes nailing her legs wide apart, securing them to the table.
Each time he spoke the word ‘mine’ his body thrust into hers,
tearing into her painfully. Her blood flowed freely from her
legs as he slammed harder into her weakening body. A small
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flutter of butterflies half-heartedly soared from her stomach,

and he smacked at them as if they were gnats.
She clawed at his face and chest, crying, feeling faint from
loss of blood. Each of her beautiful, fanciful butterflies singed
mid-air and she cried out so loud, the chandelier above them
shook dangerously. His body began to pulsate, dripping sweat
to mingle with the wine and blood. His breathing heavy and
ragged, he lowered his face to her ear, slowing his body as he
spoke in a raspy, reverberating growl, his breath bated.
“You’re mine, and you will give me a son. Or you can die
trying.”
His bloodied lips dragged along her neck and ear, laughing
like a lunatic hiding in a shadow. Then quite suddenly, he was
gone. Dru was left sobbing, breathless, trying to stop the
bleeding. She sobbed his name over and over, trying to get to
reach him. Needing him. Desperate for her best mate.
“Aodh.”
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Chapter 12
Evanescent Ballerina
Niki thumbed her guitar, her beautiful cooing voice sedating

the audience. Her attention was on the odd pair sitting at the
little, round table, just marginally keeping the music flowing.
Why did he bring her here? Katerina was risking so much just
by sitting in the room. Niki tried to focus on the show, but her
eyes kept going to the couple and their on-again/off-again
body language. The light was dim, their faces barely lit by a
flickering candle, making it difficult for her to see them.
Katerina leaned in to Aodh, a look of resolve taking over her

face.
“Eet does not matter. I think I can trust you, Aodh.”
Aodh’s large hand abandoned his glass for her cheek, and he
leaned down so his mouth could grace her ear.
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“I’m as constant as the Northern Star, Doll.”
She gave one of her sweet, giggling laughs.
“Those are song lyrics. You are fan of Joni?”
Pulling away, he looked at her curiously, a smile barely

hidden behind the look of confusion.
“Aye, I s’pose that is used in song. I believe Shakespeare as

well.”
Katerina covered her face as she started laughing hard,

whilst Niki watched from the small stage, trying desperately
to concentrate. Her nerves were flaring, and the goliath was
not exactly easy to ignore. Everyone seemed to notice them,
and Niki’s eye began to twitch from nerves.
Aodh peeled Katerina’s hands from her face and kissed her
nose. Again, he watched her face, just like one would watch a
masterpiece in a museum, marveling in it’s perfection.
“I have one last thing for yer birthday.”
“More?”
Aodh nodded, and slid a small pink box into her delicate
hand. She brought it up to the light of the candle; it was little
and square, with a white ribbon tying it together. She tugged
at the ribbon, and Niki started to make a few lyrical mistakes
as she watched the pair. Katerina creaked the small box open
and gasped. A beautiful ring sat in the cushion of white satin;
two hands holding a heart made of a gemstone she didn’t
quite recognise. The stone changed colours as she twisted it
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D. VONTHAER
around, and she noticed a little crown over it. Plucking it

from the satin bed, Aodh took Katerina’s hand and explained.
“It’s a Claddagh ring. It’s been fitted with a gem I’m told is
rare, named after a Russian Czar.”
“Oohh, Alexandrite?”
“Right. That’s it. When worn on the right hand, facing out, it
is a symbol of friendship, loyalty, and of course, trust.”
Aodh slid the ring on Katerina’s right hand, and faced the
ring outwards. The heart-shaped gem continually changed
colours, fading from purple to red, blue to green, and back
again with every shade in between. He kissed her hand, and
Niki watched, looking like she would scream. Kat’s eyes filled
with emotion as she played with the ring, twirling it in the
candle light, finally unable to suppress the joy ready to leak
from her eyes. Her arms flung around his neck, tears
streaming down her cheek. Niki stopped singing altogether
and just strummed on her guitar, her perfectly lined mouth
agape.
“Vot if eet is turned in? Does meaning change?“
“Oh aye. Turned in on the right hand means that, erm, yer
heart is taken.“
They looked at each other, and Katerina twisted the ring for
a moment whilst Aodh’s hand slipped over the sweater still
resting in his lap. Dru. It felt like he had been slapped in the
head. Katerina kept talking and playing with the ring on her
finger, but her voice was being drowned out by his best mate.
Dru needed him, she was calling for help.
185
“Kat, I’m sorry, I have to go. It’s important. I’m so sorry,

happy birthday, Dollface.”
He kissed her cheek and stood up. Kat stared at him, utterly
confused. Aodh started leaving huge amounts of money on
the table, and Kat watched, wondering why he was paying for
dinner like he was buying a car.
“Vot? Where are you going? Why do you have so much

money? Hey, Aodh, eez, too much!”
She tried to scoop up some of the notes from the table to

hand to him, but he walked away. Her hands were filled with
cash, and Niki’s guitar stopped entirely, a murmur slowly
creeping through the crowd. Katerina chased Aodh out of the
club, calling out to him. He stopped on the sidewalk and
turned to her, the sweater clutched in his hand.
“Where are you going? You give me zis night out, and zis
ring, and then you go? Why?”
“Cos I have to.”
“Zat eez not answer! Vot happened to constant as Northern

Star? Or trust? I don’t understand you!”
“I don’t understand yeh either, but I don’t question it, Kat. I

need yeh to trust me. Go home, I’ll come back. It’s my best
mate, Dru. She’s in trouble.”
“Dru? A woman? How you know she has trouble? One minute
we are kissing by candles and the next, she has trouble and you
go?”
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D. VONTHAER
“Yeh wouldn’t understand, Kat. Just give me a little bit of

time, and I’ll be back. I have to find her.”
“Find her? You don’t even know where she has gone? I don‘t
understand.”
“Don’t think on it. Oi. Yeh turned the ring! It’s facing in.
Doll?”
He pointed to her hand, his eyes softening with the

realisation. She tried to hide it behind her back. Aodh pulled
her to him and dropped to his knee as it was so much easier
to see her face, and her eyes. Her innocent, doe-like eyes.
“Aodh? Vot eez wrong with your eyes? They are different.”
“Yeh turned the ring, Kat.”
Tiny globes within his eyes were vivid, blanking out the
usual sapphire colour, and he didn’t even care about hiding it.
He wanted her to know. Everything. Something about them
made her speak, even though she felt confused, she felt safe
right there.
“Da. I turned the ring.”
Fat, heavy flakes of snow began to sprinkle over their heads,

dusting her hair. She began to shiver from the cold, and she
folded her arms to warm herself. Aodh slid the sweater over
Katerina’s head, wrapping her in warmth.
“I need to tell yeh who I am Kat. I want yeh to come with me.
Be with me.”
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“Who you are, Aodh? Vot does that even mean?”
She looked like a child wrapped up her dad’s shirt on the

snowy sidewalk. Aodh played with her hair, tracing her dark
eyebrow with his finger when he decided to confess all his
truths. Something in her eyes begged him for truth, and he
had to oblige.
“They call me Dagda. I am a god.”
Aodh whispered to her ear, wanting to blurt it all out for her
to understand. He knew she’d have a hard time of it, but he’d
show her, he’d take her with him.
“Come with me, I will explain. Stay at my side, or let me carry

yeh on my shoulder, wotever yeh like.”
Katerina shook her head and pulled away from him. What
was he saying? He was like, who? Zeus? Was he making a
mockery of her faith? She stepped away, and folded her arms
as tight as possible.
“Vot eez this lie? Why are you doing these things?”
Niki came out of the club, walking fast towards them, her
face contorted under the falsely peaceful falling snow. Kat saw
her and started to walk to her friend, shaking her head in
disbelief, fighting back the impending wave of tears. Aodh’s
voice boomed over the honking cabs and music seeping from
the club down the block.
“I am not lying Kat. Yer just being stubborn. Oi! Kat? I’m
trying to explain!”
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D. VONTHAER
Katerina stopped midway between the two, and turned

fluidly on her heel to look at him, Niki only a few feet away.
The twinkling lights laced into the thick bows of evergreen
garland hung overhead flashed over her wet face, the stone in
the ring changing colour with every beat of the muffled music
hidden behind the club doors. She opened her mouth to
speak, and Aodh stood, waiting to hear her disbelief. Just as
Katerina turned with that final moment, time and space
paused, and the earth itself opened up and swallowed her
whole.
Aodh and Niki were left facing each other across a huge
circular mark on the ground where even the snow had gone.
They ran to it with Aodh’s deep, penetrating voice raging,
calling her name. The reverberation sent shattered glass flying
through the air, harpooning cars and buildings, slicing right
through brick and mortar under the weight of his sheer
vehemence. His fist bore through the pavement, creating a
massive hole in the sidewalk.
Niki fell to her knees, covered her head from the flying glass
whilst screaming at the top of her chilled lungs. People nearby
screamed, thinking some kind of earthquake was rocking
their festive city. Aodh’s hand ripped out of the cement. Dirt
and debris coming with it as he rounded on Niki.
“Where is she!?”
“What? How do I know, what the fuck just happened? Where

did she go?”
Aodh took Niki firmly by her arm; she was still screaming
and crying hysterically. Sirens sounding in the distance were
growing louder. He pulled Niki up, and he didn’t bother
189
hiding or being discreet. They simply faded into the night.

Niki’s voice still faintly lingering on the snow covered street as
they vanished into thin air. They arrived in Katerina’s studio,
and Aodh began tearing it apart. Niki stared at him, her chest
heaving, her face soaked.
“What happened? Who are you? What am I on?”
“Yer not on anything, Monica.”
He tore through the studio, looking for something,

anything, when he noticed the trainers on the floor. He had
been outside watching Kat dance with that girl earlier. He was
waiting for the lad to deliver her skates; he wanted to see the
look on her face. Picking them up, he held them towards Niki
whose face was pale and streaked with makeup. Even her
perfectly penciled lips were smeared, making it look like she
ate a piece of pizza from the side of her cheek.
“Who was that girl here earlier? These are hers.”
She shook her head, and started to scratch her scalp,

rubbing her long, manicured nails over her head, trying to
bring feeling back to the numbness.
“Oi, snap out of it! Whose are these? Wot was she doing here,
Monica?”
“Stop yelling at me you fucking asshole! I don’t know, I don’t

come here during the day. The ground, it just like, ate her.”
“I’m not yelling, if I yelled you’d be deaf. Take me to her flat.”
“Her flat?”
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D. VONTHAER
“Oi, where she lives, get a move on.”
“If you yell at me one more time, I’m going to…”
Niki snapped a little bit out of her confused stupor and

Aodh walked straight towards her, not even allowing her to
finish her sentence. They began talking over each other, until
the talking turned into yelling that grew louder, and louder.
“Yer gonna wot? Sing me to sleep?”

“I’m gonna have your ass in a fucking sling..”
“I’d love to see yeh try.”
“You don’t know who you’re fucking with dickhead, you have
no idea..”
“Oi, who I’m fucking with? I’ve got news for yeh, yeh spoilt,
rotten, princess. This is not about you, Monica.”
“You are dead. Dead! As soon as I call...”
“Call? Whom? The bloke that helps yeh sniff that powder up
yer nose, or the one that supplies ye in needles?”
Monica paused her tirade, stumped.
“I haven’t touched that shit in a long time.”

“One year, two months, five days to be exact.”
“How did you? Who are you, and what the fuck is going on?!”
“Take me to Kat’s house.”
“Tell me what’s going on, or I am calling the fucking cops!”
“Take me to Kat’s home, or I’ll leave yeh here to deal with the
cops yerself.”
Monica’s eye twitched noticeably. She wasn’t about to call

the police. What would she say? A woman, who is supposed
to be dead, that isn’t really dead, was sucked into the New
York sidewalk and can they please find her? She mumbled the
191
address and Aodh grabbed her arm. Once more they

disappeared into the thin of night, Monica in one hand, the
mystery shoes in his other.
They appeared in a small entryway with a short set of five

stairs going up to a squared landing, then another five steps
into a large rectangular room. Immediately, he felt sick. This
place smelled like her: rose petals with a faint hint of lilies.
White orchids and lilies decorated the tabletops and

mantelpiece. Everything was crisp white except the gleaming
dark wood floors and large windows. It was pristine looking,
not a thing was out of place. Before him on the opposing wall
was a long, stark white sofa. To the right, a tall, white-painted
brick fireplace that went right up to the ceiling, and a single
huge painting of a dark-haired woman sat on the floor to the
left of the hearth. To the right was the doorway to the dining
room.
“Okay, what the fuck? Did we just disappear?”
“Actually we call it evanescence. We sort of fade.”
“What? Who is ‘we’ and.. What in the fuck?”
They went through the dining room, Monica following

closely, Aodh saying precious little as the obsessive
cleanliness of her flat astounded him. Her kitchen was just on
the opposite side of the tall fireplace, and it was fit for a
hospital. All the plates and glasses were lined and stacked like
a department store, though she only had two of everything:
glasses, plates, and so on. He peeked into the icebox and saw
what could have been food for a rabbit; carrots, salads and
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D. VONTHAER
bottles of water neatly displayed like a market.
Aodh left the kitchen with Monica in tow, who was flipping
through old mail. She never came in here before, either. To
the left of the sofa was a short barre and mirror covering the
wall. Katerina could dance here and see a lovely view of New
York. He stood looking at his own reflection, the snow falling
harder now, coating the grimy city in soft, white beauty.
Monica was behind him, awaiting an answer, but her eyes
were leaking. He imagined Katerina would normally stand
right here, the perfect picture of beauty and grace, dancing at
the window for all of nature and the city to admire. A stereo
sat on a shelf between clean white boxes.
Taking each, he looked in them and saw discs in one, and

photos in the other. Monica pushed the button on the stereo
as they flicked through the boxes. Newspaper clippings and
pictures were neatly cut and organised. His burning eyes
scanned over the headlines and he read aloud, his deep voice
sounding unnatural in the apartment.
“Katerina Maximova, prima ballerina of the Imperial Russian

Ballet shocked the world of dance last night....Disappearance of
Russia’s ‘Angel en Pointe’ has the entire arts community
stunned....Maximova, Russia’s proudest ballet royalty found
dead in the River Seine… Wot the bleedin’ hell, Monica?”
“She’s supposed to be dead. They found a body.”
Monica was crying in earnest, and he shoved the clippings

at her. He looked at the photos, tightly clenching his jaw.
Some pictures were from Katerina’s youth, some from the
stage. The ones she obviously cherished the most were in a
pink envelope. There were only three. One of Kat not much
193
younger than she is now, in full costume, clearly a proud

moment. He’d have to ask her if this was her first
performance as prima ballerina. Her hair was very dark and in
a tight bun high atop her head. The next was a clipping from
another newspaper. Kat was standing between two women, all
were elegantly dressed. Monica was in this photo, and it was
captioned as Katerina’s final performance in Paris.
The third made him gasp audibly. It was a picture made

from cut bits of a magazine. One person’s eyes, another nose,
a different mouth, all glued to a thick piece of paper. He
looked like Aodh. He rubbed his face roughly at the thought.
Kat didn't have a photo of him, but she took the time to make
one. Monica’s stern voice cut through the silence.
“She had a hard life, Aodh. She wasn’t taken care of. People
hurt her, her whole life, they really hurt her. She escaped on
Halloween. I only met her that night.”
“Hallo’een? That’s the same night… I came back.”
The song playing sounded like an anguishing lament to both

of their ears. It was Monica’s voice coming through the
speakers. Monica’s usual harshness melted as the music went
on, and she opened up about what happened.
“I helped her get in to the states. I chartered a flight, and my

friend got her this apartment to hide in until we got an identity
for her. She was so sweet, you know? She met this old woman
her second day in New York. Katerina helped her with
groceries. Katerina had been putting on this fake French
accent, but this old lady, she could hear the Russian behind it.
She never asked any questions, just one day looked at her and
goes, ‘You know I missed my family back home. I’m so happy
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D. VONTHAER
my niece has come to New York to visit me.’ And it was just like
that."
"Katerina started doing things to the studio downstairs, the

old woman hadn’t used it in a long time. I know people say
we’re really hard in the city, but you know what? We take care
of our own. We really do. Especially after what just happened
to our city this year and all. It broke Katerina’s heart when the
old woman died. She was just settling in, and had someone who
spoke her language. Someone to spend time with, cuz I really
can’t yet. It’s too hard with the cameras and cops. The lady,
Miss Petra? She left the place to Katerina. That’s how she got
it. I got her a new id and everything so she could start new,
fresh. Then she met you.”
Aodh absorbed it all, beside himself that he was being told

about things happening, instead of just instantly knowing. It
made him feel normal, meek, human. He went up the stairs
that were tucked behind the wall by the long mirror. There
were two rooms. Monica went into one that looked like it was
decorated by feathers a fluff. All of Kat’s costumes and dresses
hung there like an enormous closet. Aodh stood in the hall,
shaking his head and how little everything was. Most people
were small in comparison, but Kat was downright miniscule.
Aodh reached into the room and snatched one of Kat’s

trainers as Monica stroked a dress tenderly. The shoes had her
telltale traces of blood by the toes. Aodh went to the other
room, leaving the tutus and dresses behind with Monica. Kat’s
bedroom was bare except for a small, neat bed covered with
crisp white linens and a dark wooden night table. He picked
up her perfectly pressed pillow and smelled it with a hefty
groan.
195
Monica appeared at the doorway, a pink feather stuck in her

hair. Aodh put the pillow back as it had been and opened the
drawer to her night stand. Of course, she had a bible and a
rosary there, but he noticed some things hiding under it. A
book on Irish Mythology, another on Ireland, and a third on
how to speak Irish, all with notes scribbled in the margins
written in very dainty, neat handwriting. He touched it with
his finger, his heart growing heavier by the minute. Niki’s
voice again cut through the silence as she picked wisps of
feathers from her lips.
“She’s been reading everything on the Irish. Watching Irish

movies. Learning to cook Irish food. She even tried to get me to
go to one of those dance shows where they kick and flail
around. Now what the hell is all of this? If I’m not high, I want
to know what it is, exactly, no bullshit.”
Aodh stared at one of her notes, listening to Monica speak.

He learnt more about Kat in the twenty minutes in her home
than he’d ever known by speaking to her. He handed Niki the
book on Celtic Mythology, and waved his hand over the cover.
It flipped open, and the pages turned on their own, his hand
hovering over it. Finally, the pages stopped on one chapter:
The Dagda. She looked at it, and then at him, and sort of
arched her eyebrow.
“How do you do that? I said no bullshit.”
“Read, Monica.”
“The Dagda. Son of the Goddess Danu. King of the Tua--. I

can’t pronounce this.”
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D. VONTHAER
“Tuatha De’ Danann. Too-a-haw, day, dah-nawn. It means

the People of Danu. Continue reading.”
Monica cleared her throat, and Aodh flipped through the

other books, only reading Katerina’s noted margins as Niki
read aloud.
“The Dagda. The All-Father, is also called the Good-God. Not

because he is considered morally superior, but because he is
considered good at everything. He is the god of life, of death, of
knowledge, master of magic and is said to have three magical
items of importance: a cauldron, harp, and club.”
Monica looked at him, slammed the book shut, and threw it

on the bed.
“I said no bullshit. What the fuck?”
“How do yeh think I got yeh here? How I fixed up her studio,
how I knew yeh have a history of troubles?”
She glared, and again her temper rose to the surface. Aodh
stood to his full height, and his considerable girth made the
already small room look more like a house befitting a tiny
doll. He walked out, and paused outside of her loo. It smelled
heavily of roses. He turned and leaned against the door jamb,
the corner cracking under his weight.
“It’s not shite, not at all. I’m trying to explain it to yeh. Need a
demonstration, or wot?”
“It said The Dagda is the god of knowledge, so why don’t you
know where she is?”
197
“I woke on Hallo’een after a two-thousand year slumber. My

powers aren’t full until I re-enter my world. I had a row with my
best mate, we were working on getting back in, and she took
off. So, I came to New York. I hadn’t planned on meeting Kat. I
can do some magicks, and I can See things given the right clue.
It’s not full on until I go home. I know about yer habit cos I
heard yeh sing. It’s in yer voice. Just like yer da’, yer mum, even
that bloke that stole yer knickers.”
Monica’s mouth hung stupidly. No one, absolutely no one

knew about the actor she dated and his penchant for wearing
her panties. She was attempting to find an explanation, but
Aodh just kept talking.
“Yer voice does it, it’s an instrument. Sort of plays a song

separate from the song itself. Katerina is harder to read right
now. She’s very reserved.”
He plucked himself from the wall, and went into the loo,
shutting the door behind him. Monica waited in the hall,
talking to the door, though she couldn’t really find much to
say.
“Where is she, Aodh? Where did she go?”
She could hear the toilet flush and water running, but the
door opened quickly, before the tap was shut off. Aodh was
holding a pamphlet, labeled: Care and Cleaning of your New
Piercing. Monica snorted, and walked downstairs quickly,
Aodh right behind her. The water turned off, seemingly on it’s
own. Niki’s hands moved before she started talking.
“We got piercings, ok? I thought you knew everything?”
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D. VONTHAER
“Come off it, wot kind of piercing? I didn’t see her ears having
rings in them.”
“Oh, looks like you have one too, on your tongue. Is it red or
orange?”
“Come off it, Monica. Wot has she done?”
“It’s your fault. You called her a prude.”
“Answer me, woman.”
“Don’t call me woman, you asshole. We went and you know, I

sort of had my clit pierced.”
“Oi, she’s had her clit pierced? Why would yeh take her to do
that for?”
“Oh, no, no, no. I got mine done. Katerina didn’t.”
“Blimey, yeh had me taken for a moment.”
“She got her hymen pierced.”
Aodh stared at her, dumbfounded. She was looking at her

reflection in the mirror, trying to correct her smudged
makeup.
“Hymen? Kat is a, she’s erm..”
“A virgin? Mhm. Yep.”
“And she let some lass pierce her, there, cos I said she was a
bit prudish?”
199
“It was a guy actually, but mhm. Yep.”
Monica turned from the mirror when she said her last, a
little smirk on her face that lasted less than a fraction of a
second. All the windows in Katerina’s flat imploded; the vase
of lilies, even the pot holding the Camellia bush he had given
her a couple weeks before. The shards of glass flew in to the
flat and crushed into a fine powder, before stopping midair,
and changing course. The pale powder went back towards the
windows and vases, and reformed as if nothing at all had
happened. Monica’s hands were covering her face, and she
peeked through her fingers once the noise and crashing
ceased.
“What is wrong with you?”
“Yeh can’t stay here, yeh need to go back and act like nothing
is wrong.”
“How am I supposed to act like nothing is wrong? How are

you going to find her?”
“Just do it. I’ll have to figure it out, but I can’t think with yeh
here. I’ll stay here tonight and sort it out.”
“Wait. You don’t know where she is and you didn’t do it. Does
that mean there’s other magic people out there?”
“Oh, aye. Many.”

“And, one of them just kidnapped her? Why?”
“I don’t know, yet. Go on Niki. I need yeh to go back, play it

normal.”
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D. VONTHAER
“You have to let me help! I know people, I can get shit done in
this town.”
“Yeh don’t know these people, and I’d wager she’s no where
near this town.”
Aodh walked back up the stairs, leaving Monica at the front

door, her thoughts running wild. She went to open the front
door and thought to herself, ‘He called me Niki.’
“Aye, I did.”
Her hazel eyes widened as Aodh’s voice answered her silent

thoughts. She left, supposedly to attempt normality.
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Chapter 13
Snakes and Cages
The frigid New York air was long gone. It was burning and
hot, causing Kat to cough violently. Beads of sweat formed on
her brow as she doubled over in a fit. She was not on any
street familiar, or anywhere in New York for that matter. Her
head swirled with the images of her surroundings. She was in
round a metallic cage. It’s bars were smooth and shining like a
polished metal, not like iron. It was just tall enough for her to
sit on her knees, with a rounded roof and curved door.
Whimpering, she tried to look around, but she couldn’t

really see a thing. There were no walls, no people, no sky. She
moved, and the cage tilted, her face mashing against the bars.
She looked down and saw that the cage was suspended from a
very high ceiling, hovering over a floor of writhing, slithering
snakes. Shaking to her core, she tried to cry out, afraid to even
breathe. She made to scream, but her fear wiped her voice
clean from her throat.
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Every part of her shook violently, the cage rumbled in the

air. Her breathing was so erratic, she was trying for great
gulps of air, nearing hyperventilation. Her legs were folded
under her, and she tried to move them to sit on the floor,
forced to pull her knees to her chest. So often she had been
thrown in a closet for disobedience, she had assumed this
position many a time as a child. Never, ever had she felt fear
as she felt at this moment. She heard a voice, not quite a
man’s voice. He sounded bestial, raw, and more terrifying
than she’d ever heard in her life. His words echoed off the
walls, which could not really be seen by her eyes. Nothing
appeared to be any sort of a reality she had ever witnessed.
His voice boomed into her ears, and her heart quickened it’s
pace.
“Speak your name, Pet.”
“Kat-Katerina. Who are you?”
The cage rolled, hoisting her upside down. Her head

smashed against the roof of the cage, and she let out a blood
curdling scream. Thousands of venomous snakes snapped
towards her; their hissing and rolling bodies echoing in the
cavernous room, so bathed in shadow she still could make out
neither a floor, nor ceiling, or any wall containing them.
“Speak no questions, only answers.”
The cage righted itself, and she slammed back to the

bottom, panting and crying. The cage began to descend,
getting lower and lower, the hissing growing louder.
“Again, your name. You entire name.”
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D. VONTHAER
“K-Ka-Katerina Brigid Maximova.”
“Hello, Katerina Brigid Maximova. You may call me, King.”
The cage lowered further still, and snakes tried to climb

over the others, attempting to arrange themselves tall enough
to strike her.
“I said call me King.”
The cage tipped over in mid air and the door flung open,
dumping Katerina out of it. Her hand fastened around a bar,
and she hung there, sobbing. She tried to hold herself up,
pulling her feet away from the serpents climbing closer to
their meal.
“Oh my God. God, help me.”
Once more the cage righted itself, and her body was shut
back inside and it crashed to the floor. The snakes were
thrown outside of an invisible circle, just a few feet from her
metallic prison. A man stood in the center of the snakes, and
stepped over them, crushing them under his feet. He walked
casually over them, onto them, through them. He was
somewhat tall, though no where near as tall as Aodh. His hair
was black, his skin tan, his eyebrows very thick and straight.
His face looked sort of like a mask of someone handsome

over something hideous, animalistic. The man kicked the cage
to it’s side, and it rolled back and forth under his foot, making
a scraping noise against the floor. He placed his foot on the
cage to make it stop rolling, lit a thin brown cigarette, and
took a deep drag. He bent, and with one hand he picked the
cage up by a single bar, and held it up so her face was equal to
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his. His eyes were an odd shade of red. Instead of strokes of

colour, he had blotches of black, like someone spotted his red
irises with ink.
“Say that again, and I will extinguish this cigarette in your

left eye, send the right one to your boyfriend, and leave you
here on the floor for my pets to have for a snack. Now. Your
name is Kat-In-A-Cage. What’s mine again?”
Trying to swallow the knot in her throat, she spoke thickly,

terrified, wanting to vomit. “King.” He let go of the cage and
vanished. Each monstrous snake lunged towards the center as
the cage rose high into the air. Their vicious noise and
tempers inflamed as she was hoisted out of their reach.
Caged like an animal, barely able to maintain her

composure; she was afraid to make a sound or even breathe.
Tears dripped like a leaky faucet over her face. She didn’t dare
speak or cry out: experience had taught her doing such never
fared in her favour. Rocking back and forth, her entire body
trembled as if she was suffering from hypothermia in the
smouldering hot room. Her eyes flicked from shadow to
shadow, certain she felt something move in the corners. Her
rocking became methodical, like an old nursery rhyme lulling
her to a state of calm. But no version of calm came. There was
no sign of anyone, just monstrous serpents lurking below.
Trying to maintain herself, she held her knees as tightly as

possible. The ring Aodh had just given her left a deep
impression on her arm as she embraced herself, like a brand.
She bit her bottom lip to refrain from crying. Her chest
heaved as great thick tears washed her cheeks. Her heart
pelted against her chest as if it too was trying to find a way
out. After some time had passed, she made an attempt on the
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D. VONTHAER
bars. They seemed to be simple bars at first. She could touch

them, pull and tug, they did not waver. It was when she stuck
her hand beyond the bars and attempted to see if a wall was
near that a burning pain scorched her, finger tip to elbow. She
quickly withdrew it, and looked at her hand in agony. There
were no marks or burns.
But, the pain she felt was equal to someone sticking a hot
poker through her fingertips. What she would do if she did
get out was really the issue. She could see no doors or
windows, just swallowing blackness.
Far away within the same house, deep under the sands of
the earth, the house continued it’s splendour. It’s halls spread
like spider veins, twisting in a confusing maze going further
under the ground, down wide, steep stairs boasting intricately
carved walls. A breath followed the path from Katerina’s cage,
sailing on the air past columns and gilded delights, under
thick tapestries until it knocked on an arched, bronze door
with a woman’s likeness painstakingly etched into the panel.
King.
The word slipped through the doubled doors and whispered

into the room that was alive with activity. When that single
word was uttered, all such activity ceased. Four women were
twisting long, velvety ebony hair that slipped from their
hands to the floor. Three women were slaving over a dress in
a corner, hand sewing beads to make it look like the flowing
sands of the dessert. Each inch was a differing shade of orange
and gold, and when it’s owner would don it upon her body,
her walk alone could alter the sand storms hundreds of feet
above on the desert’s surface. Three more women were
cleaning a golden headdress, ornate and encrusted with rare
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jewels, strands of beads patterned like bird’s wings that would

sit on the wearer’s head, and fall down her back, covering her
hair and back. The crown piece atop had twelve cats, each
with rubies for their left, and emeralds for their right eyes
respectively. Another pair of young, attentive women were
carefully tending to the hands and long, crimson, talon-like
nails of the young woman sitting in the center of the room,
for whom all this activity was done.
She pulled her hand away from one of the girls as her hair
fell to the floor; each thin twist moved to the center, forming
one thick, long braid that twitched like a cat’s tail. Half a
dozen jet-black cats weaved between the legs of the women,
but they retreated at the singular word, like they knew
something was about to happen. Each knuckle of her thin
fingers cracked with a quick, rolling movement, and every
young woman in the room abandoned their crafts
immediately.
Her eyes were the same colour of her dress; amber with
distinct waves of orange and gold depending on the light. Her
eyes were heavily lined with black that came out to a severe
point from the side, giving her the look of a feline. She stood,
and didn’t appear much taller once on her feet. Her hair
lingered around her knees as she walked towards the still-
closed door to her quarters. Barely had she stood before the
door opened, and Kas strolled through with a look of surprise
to see his wife awaiting him. He paused briefly in his stride
before he threw himself down lazily into a chair near her
headpiece.
“Zali. How is my Queen today? Keeping busy as always I see.”
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D. VONTHAER
The woman turned to him pointedly. Her long, jet-black

hair followed her, perked upright like a curious tail, as she
eyed him with a twisted look on her face. The cats, however,
did not go anywhere near him, but instead came out of the
shadows to curl their tails around her ankles.
“It’s Zalika, Kasdeya. I need not remind you again, King.”
A note of sarcasm crossed her lips and his eyes flashed to

her. They stared at each other like lions waiting to make the
first beastly move for their meat. Kas stood and went to her,
and the cat’s purring stopped. She was small in stature, her
dress was cinched impossibly at the waist, exaggerating her
curves. He attempted to touch her dark, bare skin that peeked
out of the lava red off-shoulder gown she wore. It too was
beautifully beaded, but just along the top in shades of red and
black, making it look like she had a snake draped over her
shoulder. She smacked his hand away from her body. Neither
spoke again, they simply stared at each other, silently
accusing.
And then, he simply left. Smoke issued from her flared

nostrils and the women who had been working started to
return to their posts. One went to the headpiece and Zalika
followed. She stood next to the trembling girl, and watched
the girl’s fingers work in tiny circles to buff the crown to a
brilliant shine.
“What is your name, girl?”
“I am called, Tabia, Mistress.”
“Tabia, you are very talented, just as your name suggests.”
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“Many thank yous, Mistress.”
“Do you value your life and your place within it, Tabia?”
The girl’s hand shook as she worked, not daring to meet the
woman’s eyes. Nodding, but still not daring to stop her work,
she answered.
“Yes, I do, Mistress.”
“Then, tell me what our husband has been up to. And look
into my eyes as you speak.”
Zalika took the girl’s face in her hand, and turned her away
from her work so that their eyes could meet. A pair of cats
swam between Zalika’s feet, purring loudly, rubbing their
softness over her. The girl’s deep brown eyes welled with tears
as Zalika squeezed her face roughly.
“He plans to marry an outsider, Mistress.”
Zalika’s amber eyes scanned the young girl’s face with

interest. Her thin, black eyebrows raised ever so curiously as
to why this would be any kind of news at all. Except for the
fact the girl had said that word: ‘Outsider.’ Her hand
squeezed the girl’s face harder until her nails pricked at her
face, leaving five blots of blood on her skin that began to
trickle down Zalika’s hand. The girl’s tears started flowing
down her cheeks, slipping onto the glossy, red nails of her
Queen. She began to speak fast, her words slurring together
as her face was being squeezed hard under Zalika’s firm grasp.
“He plans to marry her, Mistress, to replace you.”
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D. VONTHAER
Zalika let go of the girl, and immediately she started kiss her
Queen’s hand with gratitude. Zalika allowed her to repent for
a moment, the cat’s purrs growing louder, reverberating off
her skin. Zalika turned from her, heading to the door. She
paused, and turned her head a little to ask one final question,
the cats following her closely.
“Lastly, Tabia. When did all of this take place?”
The girl’s tears fell harder than before. She looked down to
the rag in her hand, and dropped to her knees, hoping for
some semblance of forgiveness before answering. Wringing
the rag, her voice shook and fat tears fell to the slick floor.
“Three weeks, Mistress.”
Nothing happened. Both women stood there, one looking to

the door, the other looking to Zalika’s back, waiting for an
answer, or some kind of direction. The coal-coloured cats
swirled in and out faster than before, their tails flicking in the
thick, hot air. She stared at the young woman’s back, her tears
barely drying on her young, pretty face.
“Ashes to ashes.”
“No, Mistress, I beg you! I was told to remain silent!”
“Dust to dust.”
And in that moment, the young girl on her knees, begging

for her life was reduced to a fine ash. Her features still
sculpted as they were in real life. Even the rag she held
outstretched remained, the tear on her cheek, present. A swift
wind whipped through the room and carried the dusty
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remains of the girl. The gust slammed into the door, where
the young girl’s tear-stained face was immortalised in bronze
along with thousands of other faces. The pair of doors crashed
open, and Zalika stepped over the threshold, a warm, wicked
wind blowing in her wake with the felines following closely.
As she walked through the gold and bronze bedecked halls,

the cats wound at her feet, the wind reached out, licking the
carved walls like an invisible, clear fire. Scorch marks ran
across thousands of years of faces and pets, history and art as
she went through the palace, her anger rising with each level
she ascended.
Tongues of invisible, hot wind reached out from behind her,

like a thousand arms, melting the walls until they dripped
thick tears of molten bronze to the floor. Ominous sounds
came from the ceiling as thick pillars started to succumb
under the immense heat of Zalika’s raging storm. Doors
leading to the top floors of the palace, and the only level
above the ground, slammed open. They rang like a gong,
buzzing and reverberating enough to shake the walls. Kas
stood abruptly from a tall, plush chair with snakes carved into
the legs. He rolled his eyes in a bored manner, but he stayed
far enough away so as not to be anywhere near touching
distance.
“So. You’ve found out?”
“You cannot replace me, fool.”
“I already have, Zali. Pity, really. But you weren’t what your
father sold you to be.”
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D. VONTHAER
“Sold? You know as well as I do what this union was for. You
think you can go behind my back with some common woman,
and still rise? I should have you slaughtered for your
insubordination.”
“Wake up already, Zali. You can go on all day playing daddy’s

little girl. But daddy’s dead, and you have nothing, you are
nothing, and will remain nothing more than a common
woman. Consider yourself excused.”
Zalika’s eyes glowed dangerously, and even though Kas’

voice spoke as if he were unmarred, he still remained at a
significant distance, and did not dare look her in the eye. Her
long twist of thick hair slowly unwound as Kas spoke,
untwisting to form a long, flat curtain of dense, shiny black
hair. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead it curled
into a childish grin, one she could use to make her already
young face look almost innocent. Kas knew this look, and his
expression melted with one glance. Before he could do or say
a single thing, Zalika fell through the floor in a breath of sand,
leaving him raking his straggly hair with his hand. The cats
were left in the room without their mistress, meowing loudly
at her disappearance.
Zalika rose up through a snake-covered floor; they fell to the

side, rolled over each other, and slid away as her body silently
appeared. She stepped through them and she went to the
center of the room. Nothing appeared to be there. Her hand
extended to a particularly long viper that had it’s head high
off the floor, almost to the woman’s shoulder, and she stroked
it affectionately.
The room was large and immensely dark, only the glow of
her amber eyes pierced through the density. A whimper came
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from above, and she looked to it, a vicious snarl twisting her
lips. A long whip of hot wind reached out to the cage hoisted
high above. Like an invisible hand, it plucked the cage from
the air and brought it down for her to observe. Katerina was
coughing from the immense heat; it was thick, dry, and
making her sweat. A rush of heat wrapped around the cage,
and she pulled her arms from the sweater she wore,
attempting to draw breath.
“Who are you?”
“Katerina.”
Zalika’s lips curled over a single protruding fang that slipped

from her mouth, and covered her lip. Her nose twitched at
the girl in the cage, and she shook her head, not sure what
she was doing here.
“You aren’t the one. I can smell the stench of your chastity.
What do you do, Katerina?”
“I’m a dancer.”
“Then dance.”
The thick rope of wind tore at Katerina’s huddled body,

stripping the clothes from her drenched skin She started to
weep, attempting to push away the hand.
The cage soared high into the air again, and Katerina’s voice
yelled out, hysterical and screaming at whatever it was
touching her, searing her skin, and slicing away her clothes.
The black-gold cage started to make odd sounds, like metal
stretching, and Katerina was yanked to her feet by an invisible
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D. VONTHAER
hand. Her hair was twisted to the top of her head in a neat
bun, and her bare body was covered in a red leotard and black
tights. Her eyes stared in confusion at her feet as they were
shoved into a pair of red pointe shoes and laced up quickly by
invisible, scorching hot fingers.
She spun on the spot as a red tutu wrapped itself around her
body, stiff and formal. She lost control over her body; it
started to move on it’s own accord. The cage stretched tall,
but not much wider, just enough so her left leg could lift and
bend behind her, and she was forced on her right toe. Her
arms were lifted into the air so she was in a stiff, proper
attitude en pointe. Slow music, like something from a little
girl’s music box, began to echo in the room as she twirled en
pointe.
Zalika looked up at her, mildly amused at the dancer in the

birdcage. The snakes started to slither to the center of the
room, making a rotating pattern under the cage, hungry for
the feast within it. A pile of clothes appeared in Zalika’s arms,
and she dropped them all to the floor, except for one item.
The snakes devoured the blood-tinged socks and shoes as if
their owner was hiding somewhere in the pile. She found the
blue, enormous sweater fascinating, especially for a human. It
held magic, a thick, old kind of magic.
She caressed it, contemplating it when a drop of blood fell

from the cage, and the snakes attacked one of their own for a
single taste of it. Another drop fell to another unlucky serpent
and again, it was devoured by dozens of starving, expanding
mouths. The largest of them reared it’s head towards the cage,
understanding there was more where that came from. It’s
mouth opened wide with a venomous hiss towards the cage
above, as a third droplet of ballerina blood slid from her
215
slipper and into the mouth of the awaiting viper. Zalika pet
the beast, keeping the bulky sweater tucked under her arm.
“Now, now you’re very clever, aren’t you? You’ll find a way to
your meal. And she will taste all the sweeter once you do.”
Zalika sank through the floor and the snakes climbed onto
one another. They reformed their snake-ladder to attempt to
reach the dancer who was twirling on one foot, unable to
stop, a desperate prayer whispering under her ragged breath.
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Chapter 14
Trinity
Time, that mistress of discord, was her usual unrelenting

self. It was the early hours of the morning and Aodh had sat
upon Katerina’s bed in total silence for hours. Her scent filled
him until he was whole, and deflated him entirely with each
exhale of breath. He had to find her, but the more he
concentrated, the farther away she seemed. He spent this
time trying everything he knew, calling upon every last drop
of his power and knowledge to locate her. With each minute
that passed, she felt further away. He felt that he may as well
be mortal. Everything he had done in his lifetime, all the
intricate magic he possessed and practised seemed moot if he
could not find two women.
The softness of her bedding mocked him. Her fine white

sheets, so soft to his touch, were strong and pure as snow. He
wanted to be there where she lay her head at night, where she
entered her dreams and rest. Yet, he knew she had no rest,
and must be terrified. She was so small, helpless. He promised
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her protection. She thought him mad. Now she must think
him a liar. That alone cut through him like a hot knife. He
had to think. Whilst her home made him feel depressingly
close to her, it was getting him nowhere. Reluctantly, he
stood and made sure to smooth her linens, making it picture
perfect as she had it. Her home was perfect, like her.
Taking only the mystery shoes and cut-out photo she had
made, he left her flat, breathing her essence one final time. He
evanesced into the night, air and energy crushing him
temporarily in a pain he welcomed, he deserved, he begged
for. He went to the first place he could think of, where he first
clamped eyes on the great beauty who would turn out to be
his best mate. A fireball of brilliance and energy, she too had
welcomed him into her life, asking nothing in return. What
did he give her? As soon as one ripple was felt he rounded on
her, pushing her away, sending her into solitude. What kind
of friend had he been when she learnt her destiny had not
been fulfilled? He thought of her vibrant, green-striped eyes
and how they penetrated his mind with barely a glance. He
didn’t deserve her either. Still, he had to do what was right to
the two women whom he truly felt love for: he would not rest
until they were safe. Forever more, he was their guardian. The
pulse of the waves crashed upon him as he found his footing
on the rocky beach. He was where it all began: Dru’s cottage.
Dru’s cottage was by all rights an extension of her. She had

the choice of living in her family’s home, an enormous and
wicked looking five storey home set amongst the lush green
hills of Eire. All of her family had been born and bred within
it’s walls. Every Bettenfield woman raised her own daughter
there, living out her days in it’s comforts. Dru was not like the
rest of her family. Magical power she had, like the rest. It was
her appetite for darker knowledge that had her at odds with
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D. VONTHAER
them since she was a child. Dru had told him this herself
during their long talks, walking with each other round
Ireland. When her entire coven had been lost, she took to this
cottage on the sea, never again taking a step into her family’s
home. She found refuge amongst the waves, a self-imposed
seclusion.
Aodh went into Dru’s partially destroyed cottage through

the front door that creaked ominously. The room was dark,
and he clicked a finger to begin a fire in the grate, and he
realised she must not have come back after they had their
row. That alone gave him a sick feeling in his throat. He
hoped she had been here. He went through the cottage, room
by room. She had three bedrooms which remained
untouched, unless one counted the destruction he left behind
the night he’d met her.
Snow fell through the open hole left in her thatched roof
where his head had burst through. Her kitchen was crammed
with bottles and jars of unknown spices, and one furry critter
with it’s head stuck into one of her biscuit jars. Shelves were
piled with books and trinkets, and he smiled sadly at how
different Dru was from Katerina. Katerina's home was like a
museum, all the good stuff hidden away out of sight from
prying eyes, showing off nothing but order for one to see.
Dru, on the other hand, had chock loaded her book shelves
with albums, books, and photos. Her furniture was covered
with various cushions and pillows in bright colours and half a
dozen throw blankets. Her walls boasted framed photographs
of friends and past lovers, and even her family. All the women
looked alike: stunningly beautiful with golden wavy hair, faces
like fresh cream, and eyes that pierced the soul. It would have
been difficult to distinguish one from the other, mum from
daughter, if it weren’t for Dru's trademark daisies tucked
219
sweetly in her hair. He touched the picture, hoping he would

be able to feel one of the petals.
For some reason, that one picture struck him and made him
stand still for quite some time. It was black and white, all
three women standing in a line, smiling, hair waving in the
wind. They were the same in height and stature; same jaw,
same teeth, same curvy figures with cinched waists. And those
eyes. But, in this picture, they all were green even though the
photo itself was clearly devoid of all other colour. He was
reminded of another picture floating around in his mind. It
was a rough sketch done with coal upon rock. Ages ago, there
was a legend told of a beauty that would cause a great war.
This image had been embedded in his head. Though black
and white in it's entirety, the eyes of the women shone in a
vibrant painted-green hue. A thought crashed upon him,
knocking the breath out of his lungs as he took a great gasp.
Frantically, he searched her bookshelves, yanking every

book from their spots and flipping through them rapidly. A
large, aged, leather-bound book gave him a chill. Painted
across the vellum pages was Dru’s detailed family tree. Only
women were mentioned. No men were included. He arched
his brow at the very sight of it. Dru wasn’t joking when she
said men were mere accessories for the women of her family.
‘They come in and out of fashion like my clogs,’ she said once.
Shaking his head he read the names of her family. All were
strangely similar, Daire, Deidra, Diera, Dru. Some were clearly
recycled when one of the women had perished and a new
daughter would take her name. He thought of what this
meant, should it be true. He found boxes under her bed of yet
more photos, letters, and diaries.
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D. VONTHAER
Pondering the implications of reading her private materials,

he cast those thoughts aside. If she would be angry, let her.
That would mean he’d have found her, and he’d gladly
welcome her verbal assaults. A stack of vanilla coloured
parchment envelopes and notes were tied with a green
ribbon. Opening these first, he realised these were clearly
from former boyfriends and lovers; basking in her afterglow in
one, professing undying love in another, begging for her hand
in the third, and a heart wrenching apology in the last. This
went on until each note was read, all written by different
hands. All began and ended the same way. They thought her
incredible in her wild and free ways, but in the end, it was this
sort of freedom that drove a wedge between them. How Dru
could find such a collection of useless blokes was beyond his
comprehension. Each relationship clearly began as pure
passion, and ended when she apparently refused the proposal
of marriage. She wasn’t meant to be a kept woman. Love
never found Dru it seemed, not enough to make her commit
eternally.
Perhaps it wasn’t Ty’s fault for not doing his duties, perhaps
it was Dru’s stubbornness. It was the last set that continued to
confirm his suspicions. Some bloke from America wrote a
description of her eyes; ‘A thousand stripes of green, just as
the wandering meadow of her native home, Ireland.’
Similar words had been written about another Celtic

woman, thousands of years ago. Had that bloke known? Or
was he just regurgitating Irish lore to impress her? Being that
he was American, Aodh assumed it was the latter.
After his search, Aodh left Dru’s depressed cottage, a new

fire alight in his head with this idea. He headed to Dru’s
family home. It wasn’t far, but it could have been a million
221
miles away from the difference in feel. Dru’s cottage was

bright, comfortable, splashed with colour and flowery scents.
She was clearly a wild spirit; a fluttering butterfly not meant
to be kept under glass. This place was nothing like Dru’s
cottage.
No photos lined the walls. Just brackets for lamps or candles

here and there. It was still furnished, everything covered in
white linens with about six inches of dust and cob webbing. It
was stark in comparison to Dru’s personality, he could see
how a wild child such as herself could feel smothered here.
Whilst the house itself was large and spacious, it was clearly a
strict home. Few books remained on thick, dark wood shelves,
and only forlorn looking mementos kept them in their place.
Very old and heavy miniature statues kept their places on the
shelves, unrecognisable from the dust. He peeked under the
linens to see very dark and depressing furnishings. He
imagined they weren’t allowed to put feet up on the sofa in
this house without finding the wrong end of a switch.
Each room was the same: drab, depressing, everything

covered in white cloth. This house had many crooked stairs
leading to oddly placed rooms on every level. On and on he
climbed the crooked and curving steps, looking in each room
for more hints, clues, something. At the very top, he soon
realised this had been Dru’s bedroom. It was the polar
opposite the rest of the house. The walls were painted a shade
of cucumber, all the furniture under the dust cloths were
vibrant and bright, just like her cottage. Butterfly pictures and
finger paints covered nearly every inch of the white
wainscoted walls, and hundreds of wispy butterflies hung
from string on the ceiling. He imagined in the summer a
warm breeze would bring them to life for a young girl sitting
up here alone.
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D. VONTHAER
His thick finger touched one by the window when he

noticed the view. From this window he could see Dru’s
cottage far out in the distance, a small speck of white against
the green hillside and blue sea. He held the diaries he took
from under her adult bed, and sat upon this childish one and
it creaked ominously under his considerable weight. He read,
and instantly felt a heavy weight in his stomach. A young Dru
described being scolded and struck for making a fire in her
room, as she had been cold during the nights. Her tiny hand
must have written this before she was even a teenager. It was
curling, scrambled writing with hearts dotting the ‘i.’
Seemed this was always the punishment for her mouth: a

hard whack across her lips, cheeks, jaw. Years of entries
described her face feeling on fire from her mum and
grandmother’s discipline. To Aodh, they were confirming his
suspicions, clearly jealous of her exceeding beauty.
Although they possessed admirable beauty themselves, Dru

was unmatched. Combine that with her natural power and
refusal to obey, she must have given them nothing but grief.
One little book was covered in scrawling initials, S.F. His
curiosity was getting the better of him now, wondering who
the lad was that stole the young witch’s heart so long ago, and
cursing the fact he couldn’t simply ask her himself.
Aodh left her room and walked back down to examine the
other bedrooms, searching the grandmother and mother’s
quarters thoroughly. He felt a rickety wood plank under his
feet, threatening to collapse under his weight. He knelt upon
the floor and wrenched up the floorboards. Making a kiddie-
pool sized hole in the floor, he exposed a rather large
collection of papers. These pages were written in a
combination of Irish and English, and a script he knew to be
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of the druids. He spread them wide in a circle on the floor

that was still intact, placing and replacing papers to make
sense of it all. Finally, thinking they were as close to form as
possible, he read. It was a story he knew extremely well. The
story, no, the prophecy of Derdriu, the great Celtic heroine.
Derdriu, or Deirdre, her name meaning sorrow, was born of

immeasurable beauty to a bard and his wife thousands of years
ago. Her father, Fedlimid, took her to see a well-respected
druid, Cathbad. Cathbad the druid prophesied that she would
be immeasurably beautiful, with twisted yellow tresses and
mesmerising green eyes. Evil kings and godly lords would wage
war for her, and Ulster’s three greatest warriors would be
forced into exile.
Conchobar mac Nessa, king of Ulster, chose an old woman
named Leabharcham to raise Derdriu in seclusion until she was
of age, and then he would wed her. But, the beautiful girl met a
handsome young warrior called Naoise. They fell in love, and
married. They fled to Scotland with Naoise’s brothers. No
matter where they went, the local king would try to kill Naoise
and his brothers so he could have Derdriu, as her beauty was
something never before seen. They all wanted to claim her, like
a great prize. They ran, constantly, eventually retreating to a
deserted island, where Conchobar found them.
He sent the previous king of Ulster, Fergus mac Róich, to the

island to offer a truce, promising safety to come home. On the
way back, Fergus was waylaid, betrayed by Conchobar. Fergus
sent them on with his son for protection. Once Derdriu arrived
with her husband and escorts, Conchobar sent the old woman,
Leabharcham, to spy on Derdriu, to see if her beauty had faded.
The old woman wanted to protect the girl, and so lied to the
king, saying Derdriu had, in fact, lost her beauty.
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D. VONTHAER
Conchobar was not so easily fooled. He sent someone else who

told the king that Derdriu was as beautiful as ever. The next
day Naoise and his brothers, Ardan and Ainle, stood against
Conchobar, who forced Derdriu to be dragged to his side.
Derdriu’s beloved husband Naoise was killed before her, and his
brothers found their fate shortly thereafter.
Frustrated by Derdriu’s refusal to love him, Conchobar offered

her to the very man who’d murdered her husband. Rather than
marry another, she flung herself from her chariot, fatally
traumatising her head against a rock.
Derdriu was cursed in ways of love, much like Dru. Always

hunted so to speak, never to be caught and tied down. Not
until she made her choice, that is. Derdriu was the cause of
hundreds of deaths, though she never hurt a soul with her
own hand. Her beauty caused men to wage war, hundreds to
die, all fighting for her. Evil and Godly alike. Her soul had
reincarnated over the centuries, currently residing within
Dru.
Dru is Derdriu, and her grandmother and mum were raving

mad it chose Dru. That is why men were mere means to an
end to the Bettenfield women. They live through the ages by
themselves, each cursed in matters of love. Their beauty so
sought after, finding a man to father a daughter for them was
never been difficult. Except for Dru. She didn’t want it to
continue. She mustn't have a clue how special she is. What a
prize of a soul to collect, would it not be? An ancient
heroine’s soul would no doubt be the crowned jewel in any
crown of deviant beings.
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Aodh left the old Bettenfield house, understanding when he

looked at Dru, he saw not only her exquisite beauty, but also
the torment hiding within. Never in his many years had his
heart felt so heavy.
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Chapter 15
Discarded Beauty
Kas knew his wife. And as such, he imagined her hurling a

gigantic wrench in his plans, and he’d be stuck with her the
remainder of his life, overshadowed by both her power and
blood. Her youth and spoilt attitude cost him both time and
patience, neither of which were favoured on his side. He left
his quarters as quickly as his first wife did, only instead of
going down through the bowels of the submerged palace he
went along the corridor, traveling through the labyrinth of
halls. The doors opened just before he got there, and he
scanned the room to find the green-eyed beauty that would
help him rise to power. She was in a corner, her gown slit
high, exposing her cream-skinned legs that were heavily
bandaged.
As he walked in, she tugged the gown tight, covering her

wounds. She was ignoring him, even as he went to her and
stroked her soft, cool cheek. He knelt behind her chair, and
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watched her hair play around his fingers as he caressed her

shining, waved locks.
“I want to go home, Kas.”
“You are home, Face.”
His mouth found her shoulder, and she shook her head. His
hands wrapped around her, and hiked up her gown. She stood
abruptly, and started walking around the room, trying to find
a point furthest from him. He followed her as she walked
around the room, like a lost child tailing his mum. Her hand
swiped at a lamp, sending it to the floor. Kas casually kicked it
out of the way and snatched her hand. Dru spun around and
pulled away from him, ready to wallop his face. But, he took
hold of her upper arms, and pulled her right out of her shoes.
He held her up to his face, and the smell the heavy liquor and
those brown cigarettes stung her nose.
His face was newly shaven except for the thin strip of hair
on his chin that he started to rub over her nose as he kissed
her forehead. He sat her down, and got to his knees, taking
his hands to her thighs, where her skin started to burn hot.
She winced, trying to step back, but his hands held her there
firmly. His hands slid to the side, parting the slit in her long,
flowing gown, and he kissed the bandages that wrapped her
wounds. As his lips met them, they melted away, revealing
clean, yet scarred skin beneath. Dru’s hand slid into his hair,
and he growled lowly, deeply, and he tasted her newly healed
skin with the tip of his tongue. Dru tugged his head back, and
knelt down. She kissed him under his jaw which always made
a growl issue from his throat.
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D. VONTHAER
“Let the butterfly go, Kas. So, when she comes back, yeh know
she wants to.”
Kas slid his hands through Dru’s hair as she kissed his neck,
and he snapped her head back with a forceful, loud tug that
made her hiss like a cat.
“You’re walking the aisle today, Face. Even if it kills you.”
Kas pulled Dru to her feet with him, still holding her hair as
he walked, making her fall back to her knees. He dragged her
along the smooth marble floor and tossed her to the foot of
the bed. Dozens of women burst through the doors, and
pulled Dru to her feet. They encircled her, fawning over her,
pulling at her hair and clothes as another group of women
went to Kas. The unhappy couple were surrounded by
hundreds of arms and hands tugging and pulling and
smoothing their bodies. The room’s golden glow burst,
illuminating even more than usual, like someone had taken a
buffer to the walls.
Huge dark red and orange flowers filled every corner, every
vase, and hung from every archway available. A long, blood-
red carpet slid over the floor and stopped under a canopy of
red and orange flowers, and Kas stepped to the right of it,
dressed in solid black. His suit was buttoned high on his neck,
the jacket long, nearly to his knees. A wide collection of
rubies and emeralds were slung over his shoulder. They were
closely set, looking like bejeweled flesh of a massive scorpion,
with a pointed sapphire tail that tapped Kas’ shoulder
repeatedly. The face of the gemstone beast sat at his waist like
a cummerbund, it’s black-diamond eyes swirling around it the
gold setting.
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A chime sounded, and the women parted for their new

Queen. Cymbals, lutes, and soft drums began to play and the
women formed a circle around the room. Standing at the
opposite end of the room was Dru, bathed in a dress of gold
that shimmered like the desert sands. On her head was a
headpiece made of gold beads, and the pattern in the long,
flowing strands gave the impression of bird’s wings. The top
was made of twelve snakes, each with rubies and emeralds for
eyes. Dru turned, wearing Zalika’s hand sewn dress and
crown, with thick black lines drawn around her green eyes,
making them almost glow. The women began to sing a soft
song, and Dru remained quite frozen, afraid to move. Red and
orange flowers were bunched in her hands, which were
trembling fiercely, and her head began to ache from the
weight of the crown. It was tall, sitting high off of her head,
and the beads trailed down her back, covering her hair
entirely, and she could feel the beadwork shimmy from her
shaky body. Again, she called silently for Aodh, wanting to see
his huge arse come crashing through the roof.
Even as she thought of it, a tear found her eye and flowed
down her cheek, streaking her makeup in a long, thin black
line down her face. She refused to move. Kas remedied her
cemented feet, and she slid across the floor, right over the
carpet that bunched under her dragging feet. She stopped
next to Kas and he gripped her arm hard. She tried to pull
away, cursing under her breath, but it was no use. Again and
again she called to Aodh, begging him to come for her, when
the sphinx Kas had given Dru as a gift spoke. She stared at it
open mouthed, barely hearing what it was saying as Kas’
spear-like nails dug into her arm, trying to hold her steady.
The flowers in Dru’s hand trembled, but so did the ones

overhead, and the ones in the vase on the sitting room table.
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D. VONTHAER
Some of the women started disappearing into small doors

hidden in thin panels of the walls. Kas relinquished his grip
on Dru when the wide bronze doors exploded off of their
hinges. Dru ducked, barely in time, as one hurtled through
the air towards her. It sliced through the marble and granite
furnishings as if they were sticks of butter.
Zalika crossed the threshold and the remainder of the

women scattered like mice. Dru stood back up with some
effort; the crown she wore weighed her down and tugged on
her hair painfully. She looked to Kas who was standing there,
appearing blank and annoyed, sucking his tooth. Dru turned
towards the young woman, and found the end of her hand, as
Zalika smacked Dru hard across the face. As her head turned,
Zalika reached for the crown sewn into Dru’s hair, and ripped
it off of her head, taking thick chunks of her golden hair with
it, making the witch scream hard and loud. Her hand cocked
back, and Dru slapped Zalika equally hard, forcing Kas to step
between them.
Two energies, one hot like steam, and the other cool like
mist of the sea wrapped around Kas’ body, and hurtled him
into the air where he crashed spectacularly through the
canopy of wedding flowers. The women glared at each other,
circling around, each bearing four red marks across their
faces. Zalika pitched a ball of heat towards Dru, and Dru
moved, but barely in time as part of it caught the dress,
reducing the train to sand. Zalika’s amber eyes glowed a
violent shade of orange at the sight of her dress on the
woman’s body, and now part of it lying in a heap of sand at
the witch’s feet. Small balls of translucent, steaming hot
energy started coming from Zalika’s hands, soaring straight to
the witch.
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Kas stood, and as Zalika caught him in her sights the balls of
energy slammed towards him, and she began to scream at the
top of her lungs. Dru turned and ducked as best she could
whilst wearing fifty pounds of Zalika’s beadwork. The energy
balls slid over the dress and nicked at her skin as she twisted
and tried to find her footing. Dozens of lethal spheres shot
towards her, and she ducked, attempting to hide. She tried to
get out of the way, cursing Kas for nicking her powers and
doing nothing to stop this lunatic from destroying them all.
The walls began to crumble from the sheer force of the
woman’s power and Dru attempted top calm her down. Kas
stood off to the side casually, lighting another one of his long,
thin, brown cigarettes.
“Look, uhm, I told him no, and he can’t listen for shite. Yeh
can have him.”
Dru’s words sent the raven-haired girl through the roof. Her
hair that had been hanging long and soft down her back
gained a life of it’s own. Zalika’s colour drained from her face,
giving her a sickly appearance far from her usual bronzed tan.
Her voice rang out in sheer, unadulterated anger.
“You dare to speak? To me?”
A long tongue of scorching wind whipped through the air

towards Dru, and though she couldn’t see it, she could feel it.
She moved around the room, feeling for the searing heat that
was about to slap her away from the earth. She looked over to
Kas, who was smoking, and looking like he was rather
enjoying himself. The nonchalant look on his face sparked
something within her, pulling a force from deep inside that
she hadn’t really witnessed.
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D. VONTHAER
Kas decided to toy with his already unstable wife,

wrongfully ignoring the shift in Dru’s eyes.
“Come on Zali. You’re so immature. Picking on an unarmed

woman. Tsk tsk.”
Dru concentrated, all the while moving around the room,

trying to conjure up something, like what had happened in
the bath. She stepped cautiously but felt the wave of heat,
right there, singing her hair Her eyes closed on their own and
a force of gravity lifted her face to the ceiling, outstretching
her arms. A huge flutter of butterflies tore through the gown,
making her groan painfully as they sliced through the beaded
fabric. They weren’t dainty, or even remotely feminine. Their
wings shined metallic, slicing through whatever they touched
like razor blades. Dru’s skin showed their markings. Instead of
being flesh-coloured like before, they were etched into her
flesh, casting blinding, pure white light emanating from
within her body.
They made a cyclone, pulling at the heat and air, draining

the room of all oxygen, making Dru’s lungs strain, and Kas’
cigarette extinguish. Everyone’s breath was stolen, sucked
through a vortex of fluttering insects that bent to Dru’s will.
Flower petals tore off of the buds, the winds picked up
momentum, making both of the women’s hair whip violently
around their faces. Dru lowered her head, her green eyes met
the amber, and she tried, one final time, to explain through a
faint whisper.
“I said I didn’t want him. I just wanted to go home.”
Zalika’s fists were balled in a fury, as she fought to find her

breath. She shot a look to her husband, one of those looks
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that words did not need to explain, and she threw out her
hand and drew it back quickly. A door appeared behind Dru,
who was concentrating as hard as possible, trying so
desperately to find a way to fly home. Kas’ hold remained
firm. His reddish eyes went from his wife to the door and he
shook his head, and called out like he was speaking in slow
motion. Dru’s arms lowered a bit once she saw his face, and
she turned to see what was behind her, but by then it was too
late. Dru was sucked in through a door of darkness, leaving
her butterflies to vanish instantly, but not before one swept
past Zalika’s face, slicing a long, angry gash into her otherwise
flawless cheek. A long, invisible hand reached out, and closed
the door, leaving everything still, and silent, like the quiet
before a storm.
A quick glimpse of the room would make one believe they

had just entered a fun house. Mirrors, stuffed animals, and
baby dolls with blank stares filled every nook and cranny.
Enormous chairs, large enough for a bear, hung from the

ceiling. Plush sofas in ice cream colours were inverted,
suspended in air, waiting with anticipation for their next
playful guest. Ornate lamps depicting scenes of play floated
inverted, bobbing along, casting a moving glow. Everything
was in constant, slowed motion, floating lazily in the air as if
each and every piece was doing it’s duty, waiting. Waiting to
be chosen for their selected function, when someone would
call upon them to fulfill some need; needs of light, of comfort,
of fun. This would be a child’s paradise. A room of never
ending delights and wishes fulfilled.
The door shut slowly, offering a chance to retreat and go

back from where she came. A dim light spilled in a long,
golden stripe upon the floor. As the door shut, the stripe grew
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D. VONTHAER
thin, her shadow falling upon it like a stain. Her eyes adjusted
slowly as the door found it’s final inch and shut completely.
When it did, the room awoke with noise, music and laughter.
No longer able to see, Dru was suspended in the center of

the room, awaiting her purpose. Her eyes were sealed closed,
her arms outstretched, her legs spread apart. Like a living
Vitruvian Man she floated on. Had someone connected the
points of her body, they’d form a perfect circle. Her cherubic
face looked like she was in a deep sleep; her pale, soft skin
shimmered in the floating light, lips barely parted as if in
dream. Her long, golden hair stood on end in flowing waves
that curled at the tips. She could have been playing a game,
waiting for some unsuspecting person to sneak upon her.
Whilst looking asleep and peaceful on the outside, Dru was

terrified and screaming for help on the inside. As soon as she
entered this trance, a hoard of women crept from the
shadows. Circling her like lions stalking their prey, her body
seared with pain. So many cackling, daemonic voices swam in
her head, she couldn't decipher them. A carousel’s music
echoed in the room as feminine shrills and sickly-sweet voices
invaded her ears.
After the initial feeling of wonder and merriment dissipated,

a whole new scene evolved. The same carousel sang, but now
it was slow and droning, creeping along to it’s ageing horses,
like it had a worn battery. Small dings of bells sounded, like
calling the brood for dinner. The cryptic laughter of the
women had a daemonic overtone as they began their attack.
The soft, sweet voices cackled in laughter as Dru felt dozens
of hands pulling, tugging, attempting to pierce her skin.
Nothing she tried would work. She could not get out of her
suspended state. She could neither move nor cry out as she
235
longed to do. Inside she was quite alert, begging for help. On
the outside, she looked like she could be a mum, playing with
her kids and their friends. Inside she could feel them tear at
her flesh, each wanting a piece of the witch for their own.
She began to spin. Slowly, like a Ferris wheel, her levitated

body rotated, allowing them full access to her frozen face,
hair, and her closed eyes. Her fury replaced quickly with
terror. She called out in her head, knowing no one would hear
her. No one would save her. These women would claim her
for themselves, devouring every inch. She could smell their
pungent, heavy breath upon her face as she spun around
helpless, still, vulnerable.
Kas rounded on Zalika, who simply folded her arms,

wearing a nasty grin. Blood trailed down her cheek, staining
both her face and gown. He tried to open the door, but the
knob faded into sand at first touch. His fist found the door
with a hard punch, and Zalika barely blinked.
“What have you done, Zali? Little competition too much, you
fucking brat? They’ll eat her alive.”
“So angry, Kasdeya. Afraid she won’t look the same? Serves
you right. You still have the ballerina for later. She has a stench
of inexperience about her. What are you thinking, bringing
outsiders to my father’s home? I’ll have your head.”
“The fantasy world where you live is closing in on you,

Princess. Reality is harsh, you better get used to it. You’ll be
joining all the others behind this door, if luck favors you. I
certainly don’t. This is MY house now. MINE.”
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D. VONTHAER
Zalika’s eyes narrowed, thin streams of smoke issued from

her nose and the corners of her mouth. She flinched when the
steam met the fresh wound on her cheek. Even the corners of
her amber eyes seemed to alight with fire. Tongues of heat
surrounded her as her temper flared, her hair rose to the sides
like stick-strait spikes, and Kas turned to her, a look of mixed
interest and boredom taking over his features.
“I’m not spending seven lifetimes in a room, with that, that,

WITCH!”
“You’ll do as you’re told, wife. Get her out, or become her

replacement with the Nefas.”
“You wouldn’t dare, Kasdeya.”
“Test me, brat. Go on and fucking test me tonight.”
Zalika hurled a ball of scorching heat towards Kas, but it hit

the door, leaving a softball-sized hole. They could see Dru
suspended in air, at the mercy of the hags ready to tear at her
skin.
“Losing your beauty is not a crime, Kasdeya.”
“In my Kingdom, it is. Get her, you’re time is spent.”
Sculptures began to pull themselves from the walls. Dozens

of life-sized scorpions, rats, snakes, and crocodiles came to
life from their stone-plinths. The seats and cushions of the
chairs tore apart, as shrunken heads and ancient, decrepit
figures with black and grey skin crawled out from the
furniture, the wall paintings, even the floors themselves.
Zalika watched them, and lowered her hands a moment,
237
whispering in a falsely-simpering voice, mocking Kas’ attempt

at what he thought a ruler should be.
“This is my father’s Kingdom. It will forever be my father’s

kingdom, and I am not afraid of your toys.”
The creatures swelled in size, ballooning as the minutes

wore on. The aged, reanimated corpses of those long-lost
surrounded every inch of the walls as Zalika’s eyes became
reacquainted with their long-since-forgotten faces. She called
to the Nefas, making all the beastly women pause their
attempts to devour themselves a beauty. They were so hoping
to use her to soften their skin again, smooth their hair,
straighten their teeth, and buff them to flawlessness. Zalika’s
eyes remained fixated on Kas’, refusing to show him for even a
split second she was afraid. She wasn’t, really. She was just
severely pissed off. The thick sweater still in her hand, she
smirked, and yelled out for Dru to hear.
“There are two sisters: one gives birth to the other and she, in
turn, gives birth to the first.”
Dru heard Zalika, but she couldn’t understand the question.

The women’s hands were beginning to push hard into her
flesh, ready to rip into her body, pull her insides out of her
skin. She couldn’t speak, remaining still and thinking when
Zalika spoke again, in a language Dru did not understand. The
door opened, and Dru remained the way she was, only now
her eyes were open. She was turned towards the door. She
could see the creatures crawling over the room, and Zalika
spoke again.
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D. VONTHAER
“Come on, Witch! Answer the riddle. There are two sisters:
one gives birth to the other and she, in turn, gives birth to the
first.”
Dru could see everything upside down, hands still tugging

at the shreds of the golden dress she wore, when she saw the
sweater Zalika held in her hand.
“Aodh?”
“Wrong answer.”
Katerina started weeping as a tall ladder of snakes crept on

top of the others. They were so close, they were spitting
venom to her, rotting the floor of the cage. She was still
twirling and bleeding profusely, dripping her pure blood right
into the mouth of the awaiting serpents, who were all too
eager for her flesh. Her toes were torn, shredded from
dancing so long. Her leotard was drenched with sweat, soaked
to the core, and her skin was blazing from the thick heat of
the room. It seemed the longer she was there, the hotter it
became, like heat was an animal unto itself and was sitting in
the room to breathe nothing but fire. Her eyes were dry, no
tears would even fall now. She sobbed openly, her arms still
perfectly poised in dance, even though she wanted nothing
more than to collapse.
One snake got high enough and spit and long line of venom
at the floor. It finally gave way from the poison, and Katerina
fell through. She screamed desperately, falling into the pit of
snakes as they all turned their eager mouths to her. As she fell
to the floor, she sank into it, disappearing entirely, leaving the
angered serpents with nothing but each other to feast upon.
239
Her arms and leg were outstretched, floating in the air like
some Vitruvian Man. A carousel sprang to life, and hoards of
once beautiful women made their way to their fresh, pure
meal.
Dru stared at the blue jumper still in Zalika’s hand, and then
at the new woman turning as she had been moments before.
Zalika cocked her thin, black eyebrow and held the jumper
out, her voice mocking.
“Oh, you wanted to go home, right?”
Dru looked at the dancer, as they spun, arms outstretched.
“Oi, who the bloody hell is that? Kas, who is that girl? Wot?
Yeh I want to go home..”
Dru stopped spinning and she kept trying to see the girl
spinning in her place. Her mind was on Aodh’s Aran sweater
held in Zalika’s hand. The girl dressed up like a ballerina was
wearing a Claddagh ring, it’s shining stone glinted in the light
of the room, and Dru pieced it together. Aodh must have
found himself a girlfriend, but then Dru called for him. Dru
panicked, her body fading fast.
“Oi! The riddle, the erm, sky and sea! They’re the bloody
sisters!”
Zalika waved goodbye, throwing the jumper into Dru’s arms

before she vanished into the air.
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Chapter 16
Wing of a Butterfly
The night was annoyingly calm and cold against her

feverishly shaking body. She appeared in the middle of the
road, in the middle of the night with her tear-soaked face
stinging. Her mind raced as she walked into the unknown,
alone, and sick to her stomach. Twisting and turning her body
into the night, she could still smell Kas on her skin. Her heart
beat so heavily, it felt like it was trying to break free from her
burning chest. The calm air came back as she found soil. She
was home. Her cottage.
Darkness of night was so thick right now, her white little

house glowed faintly, trying to be seen, trying to bring her
home. Maybe it was the unrelenting tears, or just her entire
head filled with clouds; but for the first time in living memory
her cottage was not as inviting as it was once. It used to hold a
magic of it’s own, drawing her in like the evening current.
But, not now. Now the once charming patina on her flower
pots just looked aged and uncared for. The rickety gate
241
surrounded by lavender now sounded annoying instead of

the signal of welcome company. The salty air raided her
senses as the even saltier tears coated her lips. She entered
through the back door. Muddy boot prints stained her floors.
Someone had been here. Looking curiously, she noticed there
were two sets. One was obviously Aodh’s. His feet were the
size of cookie sheets, and they nearly covered more area than
the rugs. The other set remained a faint mystery, one she
didn’t care to bother solving.
Her insides felt like they had been ripped out and wrapped
around her neck, asphyxiating her with every attempt at
breath. Dust lingered upon every surface of her home, giving
it a definite air of neglect. She walked around, seeing books
and papers strewn about. Her head ached. Without much
thought, she went to her bedroom. Her bed was still unmade;
the layers of blankets messy and undone. The pillows still laid
upon the floor from the night she’d left, the night Ty went
missing.
That thought alone brought a fresh wave of tears to her

eyes, adding to her already abysmal depression as she turned
and walked out. She couldn’t even bear to touch a single
thing, everything she touched turned to poison anyway. The
feeling of sickness took over her and she walked straight out
of her once cherished cottage, unable to stand being within
it’s walls with their mockingly cheerful colours, cozy throw
pillows and warm blankets.
There was only one other place she could think to go. Alone
was a word unworthy of how she felt. Heading up through the
hills by foot, she relished in the strain on her body. She felt
every step and bathed in her own agony. Finally, she saw the
house in the near distance. It stood hauntingly still upon the
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high hill. The lamps flashed on, the shutters whipped open
with an echoing crack, and one of the chimneys billowed
huge clouds of black smoke. She walked up the curved path
that was over grown with nettles and stiff brambles. The front
door creaked open, welcoming her back to her childhood
home, as if it knew one day she would return.
Stepping into the dimly lit foyer, she was overcome with so
many emotions she wished her body would simply explode.
The stairs in the center of the enormous entryway wound
crookedly upwards to the other levels. Not bothering to even
look at the linen-covered rooms, she retreated upstairs, back
to her old room. Four flights of twisting stairs, and she finally
reached the top floor.
Her room was as she left it the day her family was killed.
Tiny paper butterflies still hung from the ceiling, a white
cloth-covered vanity holding her old notes and photos sat
alone in the corner. Shelves of books hid under white sheets,
and she walked to them, ripping the sheets off of everything,
as sheets in the entire house did the same. The cloths flew
through the air and folded themselves sloppily, then worked
their way through the air to their old home in the linen closet.
She looked out of the window and saw where her cottage
rested against the sea. She used to watch it as a young girl,
longing to be there, alone by the water, no one to tell her
what to do, or how to do it. It’s fascination ended. She was
home now. Like every other Bettenfield woman before her,
she would die in this house. And, when she did, the name and
her family would be gone forever. The bed was small, with
curling white iron bars and bright blankets. She couldn’t sleep
here again.
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She went back down the stairs to her grandmother’s room

on the fourth floor. The largest in the house, it took up the
floor beneath her previous bedroom. Here, she had her own
bath, bedroom, and separate sitting room; her own chunk of
seclusion within the rest of the once booming house. The
floor had been disturbed, the planks of wood were lifted from
their places, and papers littered the floor. Not caring what it
was about, she craved a bath. Feeling the need to downright
boil herself, she went to the loo.
It was an enormous pure white bathroom with wainscoting

on the bottom third of the walls. A huge claw foot tub sat in
the middle of one wall by it’s lonesome. Staring at it blankly,
hot water began to pour from the tap. She began to undress in
the middle of the bathroom, slowly, allowing the priceless
gown she had been forced into fall in a crumpled, charred
heap upon the floor. The bath filled with the steaming hot
water, and she walked to it like a sinner going forth to their
baptism. A tall white painted mirror stood in the corner on
curved legs. She caught a glimpse of her pale skin in it and
turned, noticing the stains of blood, scorches from the heat,
along with Kas’ teeth marks.
Immediately feeling ill, she fell to the toilet to get sick,

attempting to purge herself of every emotion she ever had.
The white tiled floor was cold, hard, unforgiving. All the heat
suddenly washed away from her as she got sick, quietly crying
to herself. Barely standing to her feet, she went to the tub and
submerged herself. It scalded her skin, turning it red
immediately. Holding out her hand a white cloth from the
shelf flew into it, gently laying into her palm. She took the
cloth and dipped it into the searing hot water, and began to
scrub her face and body. Dry sobs filled the blank bathroom
as the water burned her, stinging her weary eyes and marks
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from her former lover. No matter how hard she scrubbed, his
scent lingered, tainting her, removing her from all she had
once been. Lying back against the tub, the chill of the
porcelain stung her body. Her arm hung awkward over the
edge, the dripping washcloth singing a melancholy tune
against the floor. The water cooled as she lay. Sleep tried to
overtake her body, her eyes closed and the soaked cloth fell to
the floor with a dull thump.
Whirling, cloudy dreams found her, squeezing her mind and

her chest of all breath. Kas’ face changed from tenderness one
second to his telltale opaque red eyes. Then it was Aodh. His
dancer imprisoned, and at the mercy of one very angry
daemon. Ty’s face faded in and out, like he was judging her,
watching her make all of these horrific mistakes, disappointed
in what she had become. Her chest throbbed as her mind
clouded and all became awash as the faces faded to black. Kas,
Aodh, Katerina, Ty and then darkness. Through the dark
came the face of her mum, serious and beautiful, holding her
hand up to Dru. Not beckoning or pulling, but pushing her
back, away from her.
Sitting up like a shot she took a huge, deep gasp for air.
Choking and retching over the side of the tub, she realised
she had slipped beneath the water. Shaking and frozen from
the cold water, she hung over the edge of the tub, trying to
regain her breath. Dru climbed out of the tub and slipped her
way to standing. Curling her fingers to her palm, she grasped
a large, fluffy white robe that floated towards her. Wrapping
her body tightly, she ignored the mirror in the corner and
went into the bedroom. The bed and dressers were uncovered
now, looking old, cold and bare. Just as she felt. She sat on the
floor on the worn rug near the crackling fire. She hadn’t had a
proper smoke in what felt like forever, and as such she
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summoned a pack. Not knowing where it came from, a

window burst open, and it soared through it and into her
hand. Packing it first, she put one between her shivering lips
and lit the end with a little more than a blink. She stared at
the fire, thinking how she used to love sneaking in here as a
small child, jumping on the huge bed as throngs of butterflies
swirled around the room.
Inhaling deeply, the smoke filled her empty lungs, poisoning

them like everything else she seemed to enjoy. She scoffed at
this notion; if she liked it, chances are it would probably kill
her. Playing with her chilled feet, she caught yet another
glimpse of herself in the brass fire grate. Summoning a silver
mirror from the nightstand, she gazed into it. Even though
she was untouched, and whole, all she could see in the
reflection was a face riddled with scars. Scars of her past, her
present, her future etched within those lines. She looked away
from the grate, lost, and a trail of butterflies wisped out of her
and floated merrily in the air, dancing to the tune of the fire.
She watched them flutter their fragile wings, each a
representation of her very spirit. Finishing her fag she tossed
it into the flames within the grate. Getting to her knees she
called one sweet butterfly to her finger. She examined the
pale green stripes on the wings, it’s innocent look of
happiness. Touching the wing with her finger, she grasped
hold of it, hard. Feeling a twinge of pain herself, she heard a
voice speak to her, a familiar voice. Ty.
“Wot are yeh doing, Peaches?”
Her head lowered at the sound of him, and she sobbed into
the sleeve of the robe. She’d missed his voice so much. Even
in death, she knew she’d remember that voice for all of time.
She relaxed her grip on the butterfly, and it stayed on her
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finger, trusting her, and her head fell to the side, fresh tears
coating her face.
“Yeh didn’t even tell me, Ty. Yeh didn’t trust me enough to tell
me. Yeh let me wake up alone. Never even said goodbye.”
Ty’s voice slid through the air as if he were there. She could
feel the depth of his voice in her ears.
“I just couldn’t. Maybe I should have, there’s a great many

things I should have done.”
Dru’s face was still buried into her arm, her trusting
butterfly still perched on her shaky finger as she thought of
what Ty was meant to have done. What he did not do.
“We were meant to wed, Ty. And still, yeh chose death. Death
over me. Aodh told me, I saw it all happen. You walked right
into the bloody blade.”
“You don’t understand, Dru. You never understood. I loved

you, so much. I couldn’t bear to think of leaving a wife alone,
widowed.”
“Bollocks!” Dru’s face lifted upwards and she yelled to the

empty room, so loud that the old chandelier started rocking
overhead.
“I never lied to you, Peaches.”
“Omitting the truth is the same as a lie! The very same! I saw
it with my own eyes! yeh walked right into death and never so
much as said goodbye!”
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She gripped the butterfly’s wing firmly again. Feeling a stab

of pain herself, she tore the wing from the body, and cast it to
the fire with her old cigarette butt. The pain seared, knocking
her back. Breathless, she called for another to sit upon her
finger as fresh tears stained her cheeks. She was looking up to
the ceiling, the chandelier rocked back and forth from her
outburst, when a face looked down at her. She went silent, for
once, and she was rendered speechless. A man with brown
hair and piercing brown eyes looked down at her, and he bent
to scoop her up in his arms. The butterfly flew back into her
body with a pinch as the man dumped her onto the bed.
“And, you were so heartbroken over me, you went and started
shagging a daemon. Blimey woman, never do give anyone a fair
chance, eh?”
Dru stared at him stupidly. He sounded just like Ty, but

looked nothing like him, not at all. Ty’s hair had been wavy
and dark blonde, his eyes brilliantly blue, unlike this man who
was slightly thinner, a bit taller, but with darker features. She
breathed hard, and scooted across the bed, away from him.
He ran his fingers through his hair, and just as his hand got to
the back, he rubbed the back of his head, exactly the way Ty
had done when he was thinking.
She looked at him, blinking and bewildered, and just as he

started to speak, Aodh’s enormous body popped into the
room. He was just so massive, it seemed he pushed even the
walls out of his way. He shoved the man staring down at Dru
off to the side, and snatched Dru from the bed. She threw her
arms around his neck and he held her tight before pulling her
back. He spoke rapidly, almost indiscernible as he tried for
answers. He was holding her high off the floor so her face was
to his, her bare feet dangling down from under the bathrobe.
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“Where is she? Where is Kat?”
Dru looked at him, and shook her head softly.
“Oi! Where is she, Dru? Wot’s happened?”
Dru’s eyes began to leak again, her voice croaked out

something, but Aodh started to shake her until her eyes felt
rendered loose from their sockets.
“She’s there, with them. I-I didn’t know who she was. Aodh, I
didn’t know.”
“Wot? Yeh left her there? Wot the fuck is wrong with yeh,
Dru? Saved yer own arse, and here yer the one who got into the
mess to begin with? She’s a human, Dru. She’s a bleedin
'human and yeh went and left her there?”
He kept shaking her, her teeth rattling in her head when the
other man’s arm reached out and grabbed a hold of Aodh.
“That’s quite enough!”
Aodh dropped Dru right there, letting her fall to the floor in
a heap on the rug. Aodh turned, and cracked the smaller man
on the jaw, hard, sending him back through the door leading
to the hall. Shards of splintered wood fell down the stairs, and
Dru was trying to regain her vision. Barely had the man’s back
hit the floor, when his legs kicked out in front of him,
propelling him to his feet again. His thumb nudged his jaw,
and it sent a sick crack into the air. He stood and stepped over
the rubble of the broken door, and Dru tried to scrape herself
from the floor, calling out to them to stop. Aodh turned to
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her, looking filled with such disgust, he could barely stand the
sight of her.
“Who’s that, Dru? Pick yerself up for fuck’s sake.”
Dru shook her head, and scrambled to her feet when the
man interjected. Leaping off of his feet, he spun in the air in a
surreal, impressive motion, and his boot cracked Aodh right
across the face. It sounded like World War III was about to
erupt in her house, and Dru stepped between them, her hands
holding both of them, a rippling wave of energy bouncing off
their bodies as they started screaming at each other in their
bass-filled tones.
“Don’t you ever touch her like that again. I promise, I will kill
you.”
“Yeh? You and wot army? Dru, move, I don’t want to hurt
yeh, even if yeh deserve it.”
“Wot army? How about yours you daft prick. She doesn’t
deserve this.”
“Ty, Aodh! Stop!”
With that, both stopped pressing against her, and Aodh

looked from Dru to the man, and back again to her. She kept
looking down, as Aodh tried to catch her eyes for an
explanation. He backed up, and stared at them both.
“Ty? Dru’s Ty? Wot?”
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“Aye. I don’t know how. It didn’t work as it should have. I

wasn’t born into a infant, my soul went to a grown bloke.
Prick.”
Ty took hold of Dru’s quaking wrist and she put her hands
down, the waves of energy dissipating into the air. He stepped
back, and let go. The men stared at each other over her
lowered head.
“I need to reenter Otherworld. I have to get Kat.”
“We can enter now, us three. She’ll be satisfied with that,” Ty

reasoned.
Ty stepped around Dru, and looked out one of the windows

towards the orchard whilst she looked up, confused. Ty’s
voice didn’t have quite as thick an accent as Dru, and
especially not as thick as Aodh. But the tone was the same;
smooth, thinking, always planning before speaking. She tried
to talk to Aodh, but he stepped away from her, shrugging her
off like some kind of gnat.
“Aodh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I can help.”
Aodh went to the door, and barely turned his head before
disappearing into thin air.
“I think yeh’ve done quite enough, Dru.”
Ty turned from the window, and he chanced a look at her,

but shook his head, deciding against it. He went to the hall
and started to go down the steps, not using magic at all, just
the steam of his booted feet. Dru went to the door, wanting to
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find something to say to him, but he cut her off before the
words even came out.
“Put on some clothes. We have to work swiftly.”
Dru was breathing hard, wanting to scream at him, but her

fight was taken from her.
“How did yeh know, Ty? That he was a daemon?”
Ty stopped on the third step, and sighed. Not looking at her,

she was finding it bewildering to hear his voice come out of
such a different, but equally handsome, face.
“Your neck. He left his mark. Now get on with it, we haven’t
any time to waste.”
Dru’s hand slipped up the back of her neck where she felt a
stinging sensation when she touched it. Retreating back to
the room, she held up her hair, and snatched a hand-held
mirror from the vanity. Quickly, she went back into the
bathroom, and turned in the mirror trying to get a look at the
back of her neck whilst holding the smaller mirror. There it
was. A hole was in the center of her neck, just under her
hairline. A scorpion was etched into her neck, and it’s stinger
met the hole precisely.
Enraged, she threw the smaller mirror into the full length
one, screaming at the very top of her lungs as it shattered to
the floor. Both Ty and Aodh’s heads raised towards the
bedroom window when they heard her voice carry over the
grassy hill. They waited for her there, staring in opposing
directions. Aodh’s mind was on Katerina, and how he was to
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get her back, all the while trying not to imagine what
unspeakables could be happening to her at that very moment.
Dru rushed down the hill, walking the center line between
the men waiting for her to complete them. She looked to
Aodh, and opened her mouth to say something, but Ty shook
his head at her, telling her it wasn’t a good idea. She started to
argue the fact, but she still couldn’t get used to this new face,
to the fact he was standing right there. Aodh nodded to Ty,
and Ty took Dru by the arm and escorted her to stand in the
middle of a field of lavender just beyond the house. It was
planted in neat rows that went on and on, but this time of
year it wasn’t much more than dried rows of stems. Ty pulled
her to a spot, and walked in a concentrated series of steps,
looking back and forth, and turning again and again before he
was satisfied she was positioned correctly. He tugged at her,
and she followed, trying to get used to seeing the face before
her. He was looking up to the stars and she swallowed hard,
trying not to stare at him too closely. He nodded to himself,
and to the sky, and ran his hand through his hair, and
scratched the back of his head.
“Yer really Ty.”
“Aye. Stand still, and when the light shines green above, recite
the poem I used to say to you on nights of the full moon.”
“Why didn’t yeh tell me, Ty? Why did yeh just go off, and not
even let me know…”
“Why are you so bloody stubborn, Dru? This is neither the

time, nor place.”
“When is the time and place? I deserve an explanation!”

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“Wot you deserve is not for me to say. Looks like you got
plenty to be getting on with.”
Ty walked off, leaving her standing in the middle of a field

of dried lavender as he went towards the vineyard. Aodh had
gone somewhere she couldn’t see. The house was up on the
tallest of the hills, standing ominous in the blackened air as
she waited. He was alive, and the way he looked at her made
her stomach twist into a knot. He left her, months ago. She
thought him dead, gone forever. He didn’t even let her know.
She began to stew as she stood in the cold, folding her arms
into her thick jumper, waiting for this supposed signal. And
then it began. A light, as green as Ireland herself blinked in
the sky, like an eye trying to open after a long, much-needed
sleep. It was mesmerising and beautiful. Dru stared at the sky,
like it would surely speak at any moment. Her arms unfolded
and laid to her sides, her neck craning upwards so her face
could see the full, dark sky and the shining light. She began to
speak, without much thought, the sky was prompting her, as
if she was well-rehearsed.
Sky is Earth
And Earth becomes Sky
I am the Sea
And the Sea is I
Heavens bend to me
And I am all three.
The light grew brighter; a brilliant green gem in the sky, and
it separated into three shining rays of light. Each ray touched
down upon their bodies, the thinnest on Dru, a thicker one on
Ty, and a hugely thick beam on Aodh who was out in the
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thick of the orchards. As her last words were spoken, Dru fell
through the soil, and a rush of wind exploded outwards,
forming a perfect circle where she stood.
Had someone flown in the air, they’d see three perfect

circles pressed right into the ground, starting with a small
one, then a larger one overlapping the first, and a huge circle
overlapping the second; like a snowman perfectly etched right
in the middle of the fields. Her feet felt as if they never left the
ground, but her surroundings told her different. The sky was
still black as ever, and that green light still hovered above,
blinking. All three beams of light extinguished, leaving a faint
greenish smoke hovering in the air. Tearing her eyes away
from the sky, she turned to the sound of a rushing waterfall
off in the distance. Her mouth fell open at the lush, perfect
paradise surrounding her. Otherworld.
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Chapter 17
Seven
No matter which direction Dru looked, the view was more

spectacular than the first. The sea was bluer than any other
sea Dru had seen, which was an awesome feat considering she
lived on the sea the majority of her life. The place was
perfectly serene, but gradually sounds broke through the
silence, making her head twist and turn, trying to make it all
out.
Water was splashing playfully, trees were blowing in a chilly

breeze, and torches burst into flaming life in the distance. She
was standing at the end of a long curving beach made of soft
blonde sand that glowed a little in the moonlight. At the end
of the beach, far off in the distance was a stunning palace
resting in the lush hills with low stone walls and fire-lit lamps
illuminating surrounding pathways. Their faint orange glow
flickered, and she made out a person walking to the house.
Aodh. Dru started to walk towards him when a hand grabbed
her shoulder.
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“Leave him, Peaches. He has work to be done.”
“I can help him Ty. I’ve been there, I know wot he’s up
against.”
“He’s lived many lives, he needs to go it alone.”
Dru turned to Ty, and she noticed she had to look up a little
bit more to see his face.
“He can’t go it alone! I need to talk to him, don’t go trying to

tell me wot to do, Ty. Yer not my father.”
“I’m not. I swear a good spanking could sort you out.”
Dru’s eyes flashed angrily at him, a rush of colour flooding

her fair face. She started to mumble loudly, like she couldn’t
even begin to get the words to form properly. She was certain
steam would be seeping from her ears shortly. Ty gave a long
exhausted sigh, and he tried to explain things to her as they
walked away from the beach to a line of huge, billowy willow
trees. The grandiose palace grew larger and more detailed as
they approached it. It had hundreds of turrets and arched
windows, layers upon layers of pale blue and grey stone that
bounced off the light from the winking moon.
“Dru, stop. He needs to go it alone. I’ll help him in any way I

can, but I don’t reckon he wants to see you just now. He must
be welcomed home, as do I.”
Dru was ready, more than ready, to have a row right there
on the sands of serenity. But, her flaring temper faded
uncharacteristically fast, like a bucket of water had been
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thrown onto a simmering flame. Now, it was her curiosity

taking over, making her want to know.
“Ty? Where’ve yeh been all this time? Why didn’t yeh come
back sooner?”
The low stone wall ended up being higher than she thought,
three times as high as Aodh. It simply looked low considering
the house it encircled was so vast. The wall was intricately
built in patterns of stone and mortar, boasting Celtic circles
and ancient-looking symbols. The house really was built into
the hills, it was difficult to tell where the house ended and the
trees began. Across the water was another set of rolling hills
that seemed to grumble whilst Ty spoke.
“I’ve been all over the world. I woke up in this bloke’s body. I
don’t know how it happened, or why. I should have been reborn
into an infant. It’s the way of it. I’ve tried coming back, but
sometimes it seems his mind and my thoughts don’t agree.”
“How did yeh know, Ty? How did yeh know that night, and
still not even say goodbye?’
“The moon.”
They looked at each other, both thinking about the moon

that night. They had gone out rather early. They had dinner
and danced in a pub to great, old music that made them want
to cling to one another. They walked back to her cottage, the
moon hanging so low in the sky it looked like someone tossed
a pumpkin up there and it simply wouldn’t come back down.
Dru watched Ty’s eyes, though they were so different, they
pierced through her all the same. She didn’t understand.
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“Wot about the moon? It was full, so? We’re not werewolves,
Ty.”
Ty couldn’t help but grin. He looked up at the moon, now

silver and distant.
“Aye, we’re not werewolves. It was Hallo’een. The eve of

Samhain with a full moon. It was a blue moon that night, and
the seven sisters kept her company, letting us all know our time
had come.”
“Why didn’t yeh say goodbye, Ty? Why didn’t yeh trust me
enough to tell me?”
“Why did yeh go to the desert, eh Dru? Why didn’t yeh just
stay put and help Aodh back in?”
Ty’s accent seemed to go in and out, fading and then

coming back thickly, like his mouth couldn’t decide where he
was from all of a sudden, and Dru’s temper boiled once again.
They were in front of the grand stairs leading to the tall,
arched oak front doors. Dru took two steps up, and she
turned to him, wanting an answer, a real answer, a real reason
why he preferred death over her.
“Wot? I WAS helping whilst yeh were out gallivanting all over
creation! Had yeh done yer JOB, maybe we wouldn’t have been
in this fucking mess to begin with! Yer a god, and yeh never
even told me! You let me wake up alone, wondering wot the
bloody hell happened. And I found out. I saw it all, I watched
yeh die, and yeh never even SAID..”
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Ty watched her face, and it tore at him. Her anger and her
sadness pulled at the very few strings he had that grounded
him to anything, to anyone.
“Everything isn’t about you, Dru. Lower your voice, if you can
manage it. This is the King’s residence, and your mouth will
have to remain quiet, for once.”
“Fuck off, Ty.”
“Anytime, Peaches.”
Dru stumped up the stairs, and tried to open the huge,

glistening wood doors. They were thick and heavy, and she
pushed with all her might. Ty stood behind her, and reached
over her head. His hand barely touched the glossy, carved
door and it opened easily. They walked in to a vast, open foyer
with inlaid stone floors that mirrored the symbols on the
outside wall. There was a murmur here, like a throng of small
voices making the walls feel alive.
Dru followed Ty down a corridor to a set of doors almost

identical to the front, only these were smaller, narrower, and
had a phrase carved in Gaelic around the edges. The doors
creaked open softly to a room that was entirely circular, with
a dome for a ceiling made of blown glass. Aodh stood in the
center, and by the looks of it, the walls were made up of
fireplaces, but only two were lit. Ty walked in, and a fireplace
roared to life. The doors slammed shut, leaving Dru in the
hall alone. Gingerly she touched the outside of the doors, and
tried to listen when a throng of tiny creatures surrounded her
and ushered her away. They looked like tiny women, about six
inches tall, with colourful, paper-thin wings that held them
up in the air like large butterflies.
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They took her up a narrow, curved set of rough stone stairs

hidden behind a wall. Almost out of breath by the time she
reached the top, the tiny women took her into a room, and
sealed the door, leaving her alone. She screamed in
frustration, and banged hard on the door, trying to wrench it
open. It wouldn’t budge. Her hand became numb from the
assault on the door, and finally she gave up, admitting defeat.
She was in a circular stone with three thin windows made of
rippled, coloured glass. Dru looked out of the middle window,
trying to see which side of the castle she was in. But, she
could see nothing but darkness. The room was completely
empty, and she paced the edges of it, wondering how long
they’d leave her in there.
She walked the edge of the room for some time, feeling like
some sort of damsel in distress when an explosion of light
happened outside. She went to one of the windows, but the
light was blinding, forcing her eyes shut. Her face pressed to
the blown-glass window, waiting, when the light finally gave
in to darkness, and the door opened. There were no tiny
women waiting this time, no one to escort her. With great
trepidation she went down the stairs, her shoulders grazing
the stone walls as she made it back to the corridor. The oak
doors were closed, and no glow came from under them. She
heard a voice coming from somewhere, and she followed it,
creeping along the long, lonely halls of the enormous palace.
Dru wound her way through the house, and paused near a
large, ornate window. A man was walking outside near the
beach from where they just came, carrying something huge
and straight on his back. He disappeared into darkness, and
she scanned the area for where he could have gone. Thick
flakes of snow were falling, and had been for a while now as
the previously green ground was now blanketed in white.
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Another small creature with a tiny voice appeared next to her,

and chirped into her ear, “Time for rest. Third door on the
second floor.”
Dru turned to the voice, startled, but the creature had gone.
She went back to the front of the house where a wide set of
stairs lead to the other levels of the house. She went up them,
trying to listen for sounds of anyone, anywhere, doing
anything. She went to the second floor, and down the hall to
the third door. It opened on it’s own, and Dru followed,
wondering if she’d be locked in again. It was a beautiful room,
bathed in evergreen and plum, with a big, soft bed and dark,
embroidered drapes. Someone was lying in the bed, and she
went to it quickly. Ty. He was lying still as stone, his face
expressionless. She touched his thick, dark brown hair,
moving it off his forehead, and she took his hand into hers.
Another tiny creature popped into the room, and Dru
rounded on her, wanting to know what happened.
“Wot happened to him? Is he okay? Where’s Aodh?”
The little being answered in a voice as small as the previous

one.
“He has ascended, and must rest now. Our King has gone to
fetch his Queen. Do not wander the palace. It is the King’s
orders.”
The little thing popped out as quickly as she had come, and
Dru was left staring into the dark room, her hand still on Ty’s.
Aodh had left without her, and Ty was sleeping so soundly, it
looked like he wasn’t even drawing breath. Dru took a plush
chair from the corner, and tugged it next to the bed. She sat
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the remainder of the night, holding Ty’s hand, until sleep took
over her as well.
Blazing, thick heat washed over Aodh’s face as he stepped

onto the sand. He stood a little way from a great pyramid that
reached high into the sky, like it was beckoning the sun to
earth. Everything here was gold and orange, and exceedingly
hot. A thick film of sweat permeated his brow as the sun’s first
rays crept over the distant horizon. A large, thick club hung in
his hand, and he tossed it around in his palm, making it turn
as he contemplated the pyramid in the distance. Grasping the
massive club by the thickest end, he drew it high over his
head, and buried the handle deep into the soft sand with a
menacing roar that rocked the soft earth, sending the sand
away in waves.
Zalika and Kas stumbled on their feet as an earthquake

shook the room. Kas reached out a hand to grip Zalika, but
she ripped away from him. The motley crew of creatures
slipped on the floors, falling into each other and stealing bites
of their comrades. Rare antiques crashed to the floor, slipping
in the freshly spilt blood of Kas’ pets. Kas had a wild look
about his eyes. He screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice
quaking the walls as he spun around with his arms opened
wide, sounding completely unhinged by this sudden
intrusion. It carried through their home, and slid through the
desert heat until it fell upon Aodh’s ears.
“Seven, Dagda! For each day you litter my lands, I will take a
piece of your ballerina and deliver it to your feet. But, on the
seventh day, I will NOT REST! I will have her in way you could
not!”
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Zalika watched her husband’s rage turn into an unhinged

fury. He always tended to do her will, even begrudgingly, for
the sake of her birthright. But, now he was out of control,
maniacal. One part of her rather liked him better this way,
frenzied, lacking reason. A small part in the far reaches of her
mind knew this was not a good development. One of the
reasons she agreed to his hand in marriage as opposed to the
others was because of his ability to step aside and let her be
the royalty of the family. Not to mention, compared to the
eligible, aged men, Kas wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes. She
retreated to her quarters, having no desire to watch her
husband’s descent to madness. Kas plucked Katerina from the
grasp of the women, holding her limp figure in his arms like a
rag doll.
The sun reached it’s highest point the first day. Aodh was
atop the great pyramid, stripping it stone by enormous, two-
ton stone. He reached down to pull one from the structure
when a box appeared in it’s place. It was black and silken,
small enough to fit in his hand. Aodh wiped the sweat from
his brow, and took a knee. One thick finger plucked at the lid,
and it flew open, revealing a red-satin lining.
Short spikes of blonde hair was tied together with a tiny,

slippery snake. Aodh lifted his head to the sky, and roared in
such a deep, growling tone, it shook the pyramid. He tore his
fist right through the stone, sending car-sized shards of rock
tumbling to the ground. Kas circled his chambers far beneath
the surface, listening to Aodh tear apart his home. Katerina
lay curled in a corner crying to herself, trying to cover her
newly sleek head with her hands. Kas remained fixated on the
glowing, inverted pyramids on the ceiling. A hairline crack in
one allowed an oozing, yellow substance to leak on the floor.
It burnt a sizzling hole wherever it dripped.
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Aodh would not relent. His hands buried deep into the
solid, firm stone that had been built thousands of years
before. It held an ancient magic different, but not entirely
unlike, his own. The lands here were so different from his
home, which now had a fresh blanket of snow and
surrounded by shades of green and blue. Everything here was
beige, gold and orange, burning into his eyes, setting his light
skin on fire. The sun beat down on him, but he barely noticed.
His only focus was on this great triumph of architecture, and
how to bring it to it’s crashing demise. He made certain his
skin touched everything his magicks touched. He couldn’t
allow power to do the work for him, he had to be in it, feeling
it, stripping it away with sheer brute force.
Even when the moon called the sky it’s home, Aodh didn’t
stop. He was low into it’s walls. It looked like someone had
snapped a bite away from the top of the pyramid as he dug
deeply. Kas remained far below, deep in the bowels of the
structure, listening, waiting, plotting against everyone. As he
saw it, there was not a soul alive or dead that was
untouchable. He sat in his chair, watching the small dancer
shiver with tears until she finally fell asleep. She was curled
into a ball, reminding him of a hairless cat. He lit another one
of his long, brown, pungent cigarettes and watched her sleep.
One of his nails slid from his finger, extending out long and
sharp until it reached her. He poked at her side and chuckled
when she sat up abruptly, clinging to the wall. Again, he
poked at her, the razor-sharp talon sticking into her side,
drawing fresh blood.
“Wakey wakey. Not Kat-In-A-Cage are you? No, more like

Scaredy Kat. Does it hurt?”
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One more long jab into her side and she turned to him,
clutched her necklace and did what she had been warned to
never do again.
“My God will punish you, tenfold of my pain, and I take it in

His name!”
The yardstick-long finger nail retracted, and Katerina

wished she could crawl into the wall at one look at his
expression. He stood and went to her, a twisted look on his
face.
“Can’t really grab you by your hair, now can I?”
She spat at him, hitting him right on his face. He wrapped

his fingers around her neck, lifting her high off the ground.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand as she choked for
air. He threw her to the window, and dragged her back up by
her neck, and slammed her face into the thick glass.
“Watch.”
Katerina’s huge, brown eyes watched through the window

for hours with him holding her face to the glass. The only
thing she could see was the moon rolling across the sky, and a
few twinkling stars. Occasionally something fell in front of the
window, but she couldn’t tell what it was. Her eyes adjusted,
and she saw her gleaming head in the reflection, and fought
to sniff back tears. She bled freely from her side, and was
feeling increasingly weak. She stood, watching, silently
praying. Finally, sunrise began, and Kas spoke for the first
time in hours.
“There we are, see?”

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The sun pushed passed the horizon slowly, blinding her

vision as he continually mashed her face to the window. Tears
filled her stinging eyes from the brightness as it crept up to a
high place in the sky. His grip tightened, making her wince.
“I said, do you see that? Answer your king.”
“Da. Eez sunrise.”
“King. It’s the sunrise, King. Say it.”
Katerina didn’t speak another word. She accepted that he

was going to kill her. She was not afraid of death; she knew
where her place was after. However, she did fear the pain, and
the regrets. Like Aodh. Niki. Never seeing their faces again.
Kas pulled Katerina away from the window, and she fell to the
floor, and tried to scuttle away. He got to her, and pinned her
to the floor with his weight. Sitting on her stomach, her legs
fought ferociously as he made his promise to her, should she
ever, ever speak that name again. He conjured a cigarette, and
smoked it briefly hovering over her face. The stench filled her
nose and she continued her losing fight against him, the walls
rocking again. With one long drag, the end lit up brightly, and
he followed through with his threat.
Aodh dug through the pyramid, burying himself into the

layers of magick thicker than any stone. The outer walls were
still standing, though he was deep within the structure when
another black box appeared in front of him. Kas’ voice came
from it before it was even opened.
“I warned her. Eye for an eye.”
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Aodh stared at the square box, not wanting to touch it, not
wanting to know what had been done. The box opened itself,
revealing one large, brown eye resting on blood-soaked satin.
He rose from his knees, and his body began to swell as he had
done before to his full, enormous height. Aodh’s gigantic head
poked out of the top of the pyramid, his broad shoulders
burst right through the walls and he tore the megalith apart.
The sun’s heat suddenly began to fade.
From the horizon came a wide, thin shadow, creeping

across the Sahara. Under the bright, full sun, there shouldn’t
have been a shadow of any sort. It rolled over the desert
towards him, and he stood, appraising it. The long, black
shadow that stretched the length of a village slipped over the
hot sand, and climbed up the pyramid, wrapping dense
darkness around it. The sun seemed to make noise out here,
filling the silent void of space with a thick hum. As the vast
blackness crept over the sand and stone, it absorbed all of the
sweltering heat, nicking the sun’s brilliance and warmth, and
wrapped it’s heavy blackness over Aodh’s massively muscled
body.
And, he allowed it to.
The shadow swallowed him, wrapping him like a mummy

with the cool depth of night. It fed from his heat, and a faint
pulse began. His sight went dark, all of the blinding light
extinguished at once as the giant was wrapped in a cocoon of
shadow. The pulse was slow, but growing heavier as Aodh’s
calmed down to match it. The pulse quickened, and Aodh’s
slowed. It started to squeeze, constricting his breath and
blood, but still, his pulse remained quite slow, and
methodical. Again, it squeezed like a gigantic snake and the
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blackness reached it’s depth. Whilst most fear the dark, and
what it is they cannot see, Aodh knew so very different.
One final squeeze, and Aodh outstretched his arms,

breaking through the opaque strands that so foolishly
attempted to hold him. Hundreds of shadow daemons
shrilled at once, filling the silent air with a keening almost as
deafening as a banshee. They tumbled down all four steep
sides of the pyramid as the rays of sun burnt them alive,
leaving them no more than dust to add to the already
plentiful desert. Aodh’s hands, the size of trucks, dug deeper,
pulling out massive handfuls of stone. His voice sank into the
house, booming from the other side, impossible to ignore.
“Never send pawns to capture a King, yeh bleedin coward!”
It didn’t end there. An endless line of beings awaited,

challenging him, offering neither a moment’s rest, nor a
chance to breathe. For six full days and nights the daemon
raged war against him with an army of beasts. He promised
he would, and this promise, Kas kept.
A hoard of cockatrix’s; enormous snakes as large as Aodh

with the head of a cock instead of a serpent, attempted to
swallow him whole on day two. Day three brought a beast
with a tail of a dragon, hundreds of feet high, with three
hungry heads. The centre was a lion; huge and roaring, the
others were a wolf and a crocodile, each as bent on making
Aodh supper as the next. The fourth sun lent to three beasts
with fifty heads a piece, one hundred arms brandishing
swords with intent to kill. By nightfall, the pyramid was
encompassed by three hundred pikes; each one topped with a
head that had met the tip of Aodh’s sword. A fifth attempt
sent a hydra soaring through the air; a flying serpent, with
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large scaly wings and seven heads covered in horns that

crashed to it’s death on the floor of Kas’ private chambers.
Before Aodh could step foot on the granite floor and face
Kas himself, an eerie calm took over. A pounding sound
shook the vases and lamps, and cracking the marble tables.
He listened closely, when something like a man’s hand
plucked him from the rubble of the destroyed pyramid and
tossed Aodh to the sand. The sun was blinding and hot,
burning his skin and eyes when he was picked up by a hand
larger than his entire, two-hundred and sixty-foot frame. A
retched stench came from an open, drooling mouth that he
could only smell, not see. He was faced out to the vast desert
as the monster was to his back. The creature’s shadow gave
the dark impression of enormous wings coming out of the
back of a man. The head had a snout, like a boar’s, and teeth
as tall as Aodh, even at his full height. Sword at his side, he
saw dozens of small crows circle overhead, waiting for the
feast they must have been promised. One by one, however,
they fell from the sky, frozen in stone. Their tiny bodies sank
into the sand and, and he knew. A gorgon. Aodh closed his
eyes, and allowed the mouth to open up, and swallow him
whole.
For six days chaos had broken loose, dismantling every layer
of the daemon’s den, as Aodh was faced with a new box, filled
with the blood Katerina spilt. Finally, all was quiet again. The
silence brought Kas out of his hidden chambers, and made
Zalika’s painted eyes look up from filing her nails into small,
sharp scythes. Dozens of cats covered in shining black fur
crept around her feet as she listened. Her room was the
lowest and hottest of the palace, and was now covered in dust
and debris. She uncrossed her legs and stood, the cats curling
around her legs. The concubines stopped to look at one
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another’s ravishing faces, a look of relief overcoming them

when another sound crept from above. A creak, and then a
crunch, a sound of water rushing, or maybe a river dam
bursting, and the sky rained red. Crimson. Blood.
A thin sliver of silver glinted through the gorgon’s throat as

Aodh’s sword cut through it from the inside. The final bit of
flesh to find his knife, and the beast’s head fell, with Aodh still
in it, right through the opening to the palace. Crushing
through the floor of Kas’ chambers, and beyond the lesser
wives’ residence it fell. A rushing wave of blood flowed like
the river Nile through the sleek corridors of the once
gleaming palace. The creature’s head caught in the stone
structure, and Aodh flowed out, drenched in bestial blood.
Still brandishing his sword, Aodh called now for the head of
it’s daemonic master. Kas retreated to the lowest level as the
palace filled with the blood of the sixth beast. Kas appeared in
Zalika’s only place of personal space. The once golden walls
started to seep burgundy from the ceiling, dripping thick
blood as she stared into his equally red eyes, disgusted in his
cowardice. The ballerina laid in a mangled heap on the floor,
her once-beautiful face unrecognisable from her husband’s
torments. The girl was barely alive, which shocked even
Zalika. Though one could hardly tell as she was blinded,
starved, a gaping hole where her button nose had once been,
and skeletal-looking teeth showing from lack of lips to cover
them. She stepped away from the cats, making them meow
mournfully as she tore into her husband.
“Had I known you’d be such a coward Kasdeya, I think I’d

have chosen one of the old men.”
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Kas looked around the room of his first queen, ignoring her
goading as Katerina whimpered at his feet.
“Be still, woman. He’s here.”
Zalika looked at the pathetic girl on the floor, bald and

broken, and kicked the dancer to her back..
“Obviously he’s here, he’s destroying the palace my father

built! How dare you bring this here! And for what? A whore?”
Kas stepped over Katerina towards his wife, rage building in

his eyes as the ceiling continuously crumbled around them.
“I’ll build another palace.”
Kas sounded distracted, just mumbling under his breath, his

finger stroking the strip of hair on his chin as he thought.
Zalika was raging, waves of heat encircling her, making the
room sweltering, giving it a pulse.
“Build another? There is no other, Kasdeya! Had I known

when he asked me with his dying breath to marry, that you’d
turn out to be such a quisling..”
Kas interrupted and bent down to match his face to hers.

The cats scattered as the ceiling continued to rock. His
cinnamon eyes were dark red now, with splotches of black,
the irises long gone under the opaque shade that matched her
walls.
“I’m no traitor, Zali! You are! You want power, but you don’t
want to do what is necessary to gain it. Such a spoiled wretch.
Had I known marrying a child would prove such work..”
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“I am not a child! I am the only one left in the bloodline! You

know very well what you would gain from this. I was the one
tricked without the reading the fine-fucking-print.”
“And yet you refuse to extend that bloodline, Zali. That makes
you worthless to me. A waste of power, and of time.”
“Waste? And what is she? What can you possibly want with a
deformed dancer?”
Kas went to Katerina lying on the floor, writhing in pain and

loosely grasping the cross around her neck. She was barely
conscious, only groaning on occasion as she was moved
around by Kas’ ungentle touch. He looked at her, repulsed, as
huge chunks of ceiling fell to the floor. He swished his neck to
toss his black hair from his forehead, and took the ballerina’s
hand in his. Zalika watched, her walls crumbling under the
soaking blood that filled them, unbelieving the risks Kas was
willing to take.
Zalika’s nostrils flared as she watched him with the girl. The
person coming for her was unrelenting, she could hear him
floors above, trying to break through the densely protected
barriers of the lower chambers. The dancer laid still, and
Zalika wondered should she die, would her prized soul be
worth the war. Kas opened his mouth, his teeth elongating,
sharp, vicious and he wrapped his lips around the ballerina’s
finger that was outfitted with some kind of ring. The limp,
lifeless skeleton of a girl suddenly sprang upright, and Zalika
stepped back, somewhat alarmed. Katerina was screaming,
fighting against Kas. She hadn’t fought this hard when Kas’
spear-like thumb severed her lips from her face. She hadn’t
cried out when he washed his hand hard over her face until
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D. VONTHAER
her nose disappeared, leaving a gaping hole. But this finger,

no, the ring, was special. Her cries told him so.
The waves of heat died down as Zalika watched the girl,

soaking up her screams like one would bask in the rays of the
sun. Kas snapped his teeth down on the girl’s finger and
pulled away, a gush of blood dripping down his mouth. A
small, black satin box appeared in his hand, and he spit the
bejeweled finger into it. The girl continued to cry, but it
wasn’t like her previous cries. She was yelling in her language,
fiercely. Kas stood, and kicked her in the face where she fell
silent, blood oozing from her hand. He handed the box to
Zalika, who gave him a look of pure venom.
“Go, Princess. Earn your place.”
The floors above rumbled once more, and Zalika held the
bleeding box in her hand. Another shuddering rumble, and
Zalika went to the source, leaving the wailing dancer and Kas
behind. She appeared on a dense whip of wind before a
massive man, looking ferocious.
Aodh had shrunk back to his somewhat normal looking

form, pounding through the walls when he felt the power
surge behind him. Both sent their own versions of a wave of
energy towards the other, when Aodh’s eyes narrowed at the
source. He dropped his hands, seeing another black box in her
clutches, cringing over what it contained. She did the same,
and they stood, far apart in the destruction that had once
been a large formal dining room. He was covered in blood and
sweat, blistered from the sun. She stood at the opposite end,
watching him with black-lined eyes, wondering why he would
still fight. The girl was a mortal, a sickly human that she
wouldn’t even allow to feed her cats. Aodh’s deep, rocking
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voice made her twinge for a moment when he spoke. She

never let her guard down, though he remained quite open and
unprotected.
“Bring it to me, if yer the new delivery girl.”
Zalika scoffed, “Come get it yourself.”
Aodh obliged. He didn’t walk, or run, or even disappear.

More like moving faster than light and sound, he crossed the
room in a blur, stopping just inside of her clear, waving cloud
of wind. Neither outside, nor completely beyond it, Zalika
dropped the box, and he swiftly caught it before it touched
the destroyed floor. His hand had broken through, and she
tried to hold the remainder of him back in a rippling,
transparent cloud. He grinned at her with his blood-soaked
face, blurred by the waves of intense energy, his eyes unlike
any she’d ever seen; they resembled the earth itself, spinning
on it’s axis. His voice was muffled as he stretched the energy
bubble with every turn of his wide shoulders.
“Ah, it’s not you is it? No, yeh haven’t even crossed yet. He
has yeh to do his dirty work for him, aye? And yeh obey. How
darling, like a bleedin’ pet.”
Zalika’s fury swelled beyond a point she’d ever felt before.

Her hair, though long and strait, started to twist itself as it
raised into the air, sticking straight out, like thinly braided
spikes. She tried to squeeze the cloud together, but all she did
was thin it out, making it hotter, wearing it thin. The blood
started to melt from his face as he watched her. It stuck in his
beard in globs whilst he began to sweat from the heat. But,
never buckling, as she had anticipated him to have done. He
wasn’t even out of breath.
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“Excellent effort love, yer trying too hard. Less, sometimes is

more.”
Aodh broke through, sending her back. He stepped after

her, snatching her by one of her long strands of ebony hair.
She was about as small as Katerina, but not nearly as fit, and
her voice was not as soft, nor as pleasant to his ears.
“Harm me, and he’ll..”
“He’ll wot? Hasn’t showed his face once, has he? No worries
on that, had yeh been worth a trade, he wouldn’t have sent yeh
in his stead, now would he?”
Aodh let go, dropping her to the floor, and held up a thick
hand to silence her. He wasn’t trying any kind of magic, not
even to protect himself, which left her confused. He looked at
the box, sighing before he opened it, still doing nothing to
prevent her from turning him to dust. Yet, she had tried to,
and he didn’t so much as skip a breath. One word came from
her lips in a latent response, “Crossed?”
Down in Zalika’s chambers, Katerina was still wailing, and

Kas couldn’t stand to hear her for another second. The raging
had ceased above, and he wondered, if maybe, just maybe,
Zalika had succeeded. Kas started drinking a thin red liquid
from a golden bottle as Kat prayed, clutching her hand. She
was weak, her cries becoming desperately faint. Kas sat the
empty bottle on a table, and went to her. He knelt down,
disgusted by his own handiwork. His head turned curiously to
the side, confused by the pound of flesh before him.
“Why do you pray to one god, when another is ruining my

fucking life for you? Can’t make up your mind, or are you just
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fucking stupid? You cried more for your fucking finger than
your eyes. I don’t get you. I don’t understand dumb. Explain.”
Katerina’s head turned to the sound of his vile voice, barely

breathing, her life draining.
“Ring. Eez not finger, zee ring. Aodh’s ring.”
“A-Owed? What’s his name? Who is it? Oh, wake the fuck up
and speak. You don’t have lips to get in the way.”
“Aodh’s ring. He loved me.”
“Love? Oh now I’m going to beat you and like it. That fuck
loves you, and you’re praying to what? Here I thought you
people were loyal. Listen up, ballerina.”
Kas lifted her bald, cold head from the floor, almost wishing
she could see him.
“Your boyfriend is fucking up my plans. He’s a stubborn fuck,

but, hey, I can respect that. If he’s not dead by tonight, I’m
going to fuck you, and hand you back. See how much you’re
worth to him when he can taste me on you. It won’t be easy.
You’re not much for looks, now. But, I think I can manage. Just
the once.”
Kas sucked his teeth and dropped Katerina’s head to the

floor where it smacked hard against the firm stone. She rolled
over in the fresh blood pooling from yet another wound as
Kas lit one of his long brown cigarettes, still listening to what
was happening above. Kat tugged at the cross clasped around
her neck, feeling the small diamond charm between her
fingers. She tried to sit up, her frail body in total agony. She
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smelled his smoke, and turned towards it. The crucifix in her
hand, she threw it, and called for help.
“Aodh! I am here! I believe you! Dagda!”
The necklace smacked Kas in the face, burning a mark

through his nose as the chain laid over the cigarette in his
mouth. Katerina disappeared from the floor, and sank into
Aodh’s arms. The moment she was safely in his arms, they
evanesced right from the rubble of the palace, leaving both
daemons in disbelief, as their walls came crashing down
spectacularly around them.
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Chapter 18
Dagda’s Harp
The waves began to roll towards the middle of the sea

instead of towards the beach. Dru and Ty had been in the
middle of an intense argument, both of their faces reddened
from the icy cold when they noticed the waves rise in the
wrong direction. Ty grabbed hold of Dru and shoved her
behind him. A mangle of sticks, rocks, and discarded spear-
heads flew to Dru and encompassed her, spinning around her
like a mobile protective casing. They spun in a rhythmic
pattern, whooshing in the air, making it impossible for her to
see what was coming from the water. Aodh stepped through
the water, dry as a bone, with a skeletal figure tucked into his
thick muscled arms. His face was stony, harsh.
Ty’s mouth hung open, and the objects protecting Dru fell
to the ground. Aodh walked towards them, the face of the
creature becoming visible as he approached. Dru’s hands
went to her mouth, in utter shock at what Aodh was holding.
It was neither a skeleton, nor a creature at all. It was a
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woman, the dancer. Though small hands covered the bony,

mangled face, she still had the form of a woman. A starved,
destroyed one at that.
Aodh strode past them, and went to the house whilst Ty

stood still, unable to move. He lowered his head, and Dru
made to say something, but she forgot what started the
argument. Sleet began to pelt down onto them, and he looked
up, meeting her gaze. Neither of them knew what to say.
Whatever it was they were saying simply no longer mattered.
Aodh went in to the house with a rush of tiny faerie

creatures at his disposal, but he addressed none. He went up
the stairs, passed the second floor, and then the third, on and
on through the twisted levels of his palatial home until he
made it to the Royal Family’s quarters. At the top of the
staircase was a wooden inlaid entryway to a sitting room with
double fireplaces, comfortable sofas and chairs, and tall, thin,
arched windows. To the right was a hall that led to other
rooms and baths, to the left was another set of oak doors that
opened instantly as he approached them. An enormous sage
and silvery bed was off to the left. Across from that wall was
another fireplace, taller than Aodh and made of worn stones.
The windows to the left boasted views of the water out front.
This room was enormous, offering additional sitting rooms,
changing rooms, and rooms acting as closets. Aodh laid
Katerina tenderly upon the bed, and she turned from him,
burying her face into the soft bedding, motioning for him to
leave.
“Oi, yeh just got here. I’m not leaving, Kat. Let me see yeh, I
can help, I can make yeh feel better.”
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Katerina mumbled from the covers, and waving her hand

fiercely to get him to go away. He tried to touch her hand. It
still bled and shriveled up, missing one dainty, bejeweled
finger. She smacked his hand hard, as hard as her tiny hand
could. It stung her, but he could feel nothing but the sting in
his heart.
He nodded, though she could not see him, and he went to

the door.
“If yeh want for anything, I’ll be right here.”
“GO!”
“I can help, if yeh just allow me to.”
“NYET! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”
Kat’s voice cracked as she yelled, and it broke Aodh’s heart.

He shut the doors behind him, and didn’t move for hours. His
hands still on the doorknobs, he listened to her breathe, to
her weep, to her moving around. He refused to move, to eat,
to do anything. He could not. She was in there, torn and
broken, and she wouldn’t allow him in. Eventually, he slid
down the doors to sit on the floor, and remained there,
waiting for her to change her mind. Time slid by, and
Katerina couldn’t tell if it was day or night, nor did she really
care.
Something kept coming into the room, but it wasn’t Aodh;

she could feel him instantly with his heavy footfalls and
gravelly voice. This was different, like a soft fluttering and
small feminine voices that made her feel slightly more
comfortable. Whatever they were, they didn’t talk to her, just
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to each other, or they would hum a high-pitched tune that

lulled her into sleep.
The following day she sat up in agony when one of them

spoke to her. Her head turned to the voice. Curiosity was
getting the best of her, and she reached out her hand to see
what she’d touch. It was soft, and bathed her in a tingling
sensation. Kat brought her hand back to her chest and spoke
for the first time.
“Vot eez your name?”
“I am Aingeal, Lady Katerina.”
“Angel? Are you a real angel?”
“No, Lady Katerina, I am Aingeal. I am the Céad faerie of

Avalon and you are in my care. Would our Lady care for an
apple?”
Katerina nodded, and a large, smooth apple appeared in her

hand. She turned away. Her lips gone, she knew she must
look like the living dead. She held it in her hands, wanting to
cry but having no eyes to do so.
“Eet feels like I am in faerytale.”
A group of hearty, high-pitched giggles made her head look

around as she listened to them laugh.
“But, Milady, we do not have tails!”
Katerina’s head lowered and the laughing died down. The

apple sat in her hand, and she felt a tiny hand touch hers. Not
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having the heart to be angry at such a sweet-sounding

creature who was attempting to be kind, she just stayed still.
Aingeal spoke again, this time, flitting so close, she could feel
the tiny brushes of wind on her skin.
“Our Lady, we cannot see your pains. We can see only the
pure heart of a being, any being. We cannot see what humans
do not possess. And, we were just saying how we had never seen
a lovelier girl. For being human, of course. Such sadness. You
must eat if we are to get you strong.”
“I am missing my eyes; I wish I could see you, Aingeal.”
“In due time, milady. Eat. Or we will have nothing to see once
the winds blow you far, far away!”
“A--, Aingeal?”
There was nothing. The faerie had gone, leaving Kat to

herself. It was then she noticed the pain, the excruciating pain
was gone. She bit into the apple, the flavour exploding in such
a way she hadn’t ever thought possible. She was ravenous, and
tore apart the apple with her bared teeth. Each time she
thought she was done, new flesh and skin covered the large,
round fruit and she ate more until she was full. With the pain
taken from her and a full stomach, she fell over onto the soft
pillows and slept for days on end.
‡‡‡
When most people say the silence could be cut with a knife,
they must have never had silence like this. Dru felt a chainsaw
would be more appropriate. It was healing and maybe a safe
type of quiet. Every time she wanted to say something, his
eyes seemed to find hers, and all chance of her speaking
285
became null and void. Even the creatures of the world were
oddly quiet considering it was the first day of the year, their
King had returned, and the world was reopened, ready to
rebuild. Everything seemed to know better. The sleet turned
to hail, and Dru and Ty worked through it, putting stone to
mortar, building his home that was more of a fortress than a
castle.
Each corner was rounded. The roof was set so a thousand

warriors could perch at the top and watch all the
surroundings without missing even an inch. By the end of the
day, her hair was soaked and freezing, and her face
completely numb from being outside. Ty threw down a log
that had been resting on his shoulder, and he turned towards
Aodh’s home, and shrugged his shoulders for her to follow.
They went into Aodh’s house, and Dru went to go one way,
but Ty grabbed hold of her again, shaking his head. He
brought her to the kitchen, and Dru sat down at the oval-
shaped table, freezing and famished. Ty sat two oblong plates
of fish and chips, and took the seat across from her. She was
giving him a look, and shaking her head. They looked at each
other for a moment, Dru’s eye brows arched dangerously,
when Ty realised what she was annoyed about.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, eat it. It’s only fish, Dru.”
“I’m vegan, Ty.”
“I know this. Eat it anyway. Tuck in.”
Dru sat there, being stubborn, as Ty dug in. Her stomach

was lurching, and the smell wafting to her nose was making it
harder to resist. There was a small noise near the back doors,
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and Ty got up to look. Dru’s aching stomach could wait no

more, and she snatched the cut lemon from the side of her
plate, and squeezed it over the long, thick filet. She then took
Ty’s lemon and used it as well, and took a much-desired bite.
She tried to hide the sound wanting to come from her mouth
as Ty came back to the table.
“Faeries having a snowball fight. They are more cheerful than

I recall. Maybe it’s cos Aodh is home.”
Ty looked to Dru sitting there with her cheeks full. The

scent of lemon tickled his nose, and he smirked. He
continued eating, and occasionally Dru would have a bite,
only when Ty wasn’t looking. He played the game for a few,
but he couldn’t resist.
“For a vegan, sure know how you like your fish.”
Dru rolled her eyes, and left the table. Ty kept eating, but
after a few minutes, the hail came down even harder, and he
followed her. He tracked a long line of mud and sleet through
the house that wiped up after him, like an invisible set of
hands working a mop just inches from his feet. He followed
the quickly disappearing smaller footprints up the steps. Ty
held out his arm before the door shut all the way, and slid
into the green and purple decorated room. Dru was at the
window, staring out at the hailstorm, tears rolling down her
cheeks equally thick. He stood behind her, and watched the
waters rage against the beach, wondering if this was an act of
nature, or if Aodh’s temperament been altering the weather.
Ty touched Dru’s shoulder, and she shrugged him away, and
sat and take off her boots.
“Now, what have I done?”

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“Nothing, Ty. Nothing at all.”
“After all of this? You’re going to shut down? Not even going
to put up a fight?”
Dru took off her boots and removed her wet jeans, fighting
back tears, but trying harder to fight back her tongue. She
stripped off her socks, and tugged at her soaked jumper. She
tried to get it off but it wasn’t cooperating. Instead, she just
buried her head in her hands. The weight of everything was
pressing her. She wanted to go to Aodh, but he wasn’t
speaking to her. She wanted to help, to see if he was okay, if
the girl was okay, but it was all her fault. Ty knelt down to
her, and tried to peel her hands from her face. Again, she tried
to get away from him, and he sat back on his calves.
“I’m not trying to get into yer knickers, Dru. I’m just trying to
be a friend right now. I thought you needed that. But fuck all if
I’m letting yeh go on like this.”
Ty peeled off his soaked shirt as he stood. He kicked off his

boots, suddenly enraged. He turned away, finding it harder to
look at her as the minutes wore on. But, her voice had a way
of picking at his very soul as she spoke.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t stand yeh touching me, knowing yeh
don’t. Yeh know. Still. We aren’t. I just don’t know wot’s fuckin’
wrong with me.”
Ty undid his belt and yanked it with a whipping sound,

keeping his back turned to her. His hair was wet and cold. He
looked to the fireplace, wanting to warm up. If only it could
warm his heart.
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“He’ll forgive, just give him some time to heal. ”
Dru was crying quietly into her hands, her stomach

grumbling loudly over her sniffles. She mumbled into her
hands, her tears overwhelming her voice.
“He shouldn’t though. I don’t deserve forgiveness. I deserve to

be there, in the ballerina’s place. That should be me, not her. It
should be me, Ty. And I left, I left her there to deal with him all
on her own. It should be me. Me.”
Ty’s head hung as he listened to her cry, wanting to comfort

her, but everything he said came out so very wrong.
“I doubt she could deal with him like you.”
“Wot?”
Ty turned to see her reddened eyes looking at him, a mix of

hurt and anger crawling over her face. His eyes darted around
the room, and he exhaled deeply, knowing how he sounded.
“I didn’t mean..”
“Yeh say a lot of wot yeh don’t mean, I’ve come to find, Ty.”
“Don’t start, Dru. I never lied to you. I just,” Ty’s voice

paused. Both of their stomachs growled louder than their
voices. Dru stood and again tried to get her wet jumper over
her head as she mumbled obscenities from the other side of
the room. Ty went to her, and stood behind her as she tugged
at the heavy, water-logged sweater, chuckling to himself.
289
“Still have such a bleedin’ mouth. Always wondered how

someone with the face of an angel can have the mouth of a
daemon.”
His voice caught at his last word and Dru turned around,
and folded her arms into the half-removed jumper. Her eyes,
so vividly green, were rimmed with redness, looking like she’d
burst into tears or a tirade at any moment. And knowing Dru
as Ty had known her, it very easily could have been both
simultaneously. But all she could do was whisper.
“I thought yeh were dead, Ty.”
“Yet, I’m quite alive.”
“If yeh would have trusted me enough, to have just told me,
I’d have, forever… I would never have.. It would be so different.”
He looked back at her, but found staring into those eyes

were tantamount to becoming a blithering fool. Instead, he
looked over her head to the sleet now falling. He felt he had
to change the subject, or else they could stand in the cold for
days bickering.
“Didn’t eat much, should get something else before bed,

Peaches.”
Dru nodded at first, but then it seemed like a light switch

went off in her head. Or more like a switch of aggravation.
“Don’t change the subject on me.”
“Dru, it’s wasted time having a row about it now. Leave well
enough alone.”
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D. VONTHAER
“No! Answer me for fucking once! I’m not leaving it alone,

Ty!”
Ty’s face had remained quite calm until then. He’d been a
master at keeping his temper in check. Even with this new
body, this new face, his features remained still, examining.
Dru was more animated, always showing her emotion before
her mouth followed. Ty couldn’t refrain for another moment.
Dru had turned, giving up on the jumper when Ty rounded on
her. Still half undressed, his taut bare chest showed veins
thickening with each heavily drawn breath, and one in his
temple was nearing the breaking point. He spun her around,
grasped her by the waist and pushed her into the wall next to
the window. He lowered his face to hers, his accent the
thickest it had been since his return, his voice harsh and low,
and for once, unrestrained.
“No? Can’t let it go? Okay, fine. How about the moment yeh
realise I’m dead yeh go off and start shagging the first
worthless prick yeh can find? How do yeh work that out, Dru?
Should I apologise for allowing a sword to puncture my heart
cos I didn’t come and tell yeh in advance?”
Dru backed up to the wall, still unnerved by hearing this

voice coming out of a different mouth. She stuttered a little,
shaken by him rounding on her. His arms moved to either
side of her head, stiff as he palmed the wall, his sweat thick
and lingering on his skin. She thought how he even smelled
the same as before when she found her voice.
“Oh don’t give me that, yeh could have told me! Yeh could
have done as yeh were meant to have, and not just left me in
the middle of the bloody night crying for you!”
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“Crying? For me? Lasted all of a minute didn’t it? How many
nights were we lying on that thick rug by the fire and I’d ask
yeh wot yeh thought of marrying, and wot was yer answer?
Huh? Say it, wot was yer answer?”
Ty’s nose was almost touching hers and she tried to answer,
but he interrupted. She didn’t want to repeat herself.
“Never. That was the answer, Peaches. And something about,

wot was it? As soon as they ask, it’s time for it to be over? Well,
I wasn’t exactly keen on it ending cos I fucking loved yeh so
much. So I never asked proper, hoping yeh’d change yer fucking
ways. I can’t control the fact yeh changed yer mind two
minutes too fucking late. And yeh know wot? Are yeh
listening?”
Ty lowered his lips to Dru’s ear, his heart beating wildly

inside of his chest. She could feel it thump against her as he
raged. She couldn’t even find her voice as his breath swam
over her neck.
“The blade didn’t hurt even half as much, Peaches. That cold
steel, expertly sharpened to cut a hair off a sow’s arse, pierced
me, here.”
He took her hand and placed it over the center of his chest,
where his heart beat wildly, tears streaming down her face
and she tried to look away.
“My heart could heal from that sword. But you? I’m not so
sure.”
“You hurt me too, Ty.”
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D. VONTHAER
Dru turned her face back to him, and their eyes met,
instantly making him look somewhere else. His jaw clenched,
tightening so hard she could hear it crick.
“I hurt you? I did. Aye. Not in the way yer new boyfriend has
eh? Yer into that sort of thing now? Always knew ye liked it a
bit rough but blimey, Peaches. There’s limits, eh?”
Dru hauled her hand back and smacked his face. His face
turned back to hers slowly, his expression unchanged. Angry
tears welled into her eyes, and she smacked him again with
the opposite hand. Once more he turned to her; tears flowed
freely down her frozen cheeks. He took his thumb, and drew
it down the center of her bottom lip to her chin, and allowed
it to gently trail down the center of her body. His voice was
quiet, teasing her, making her want to crawl out of her skin.
“So rough. If I recall properly, yeh always sort of liked

surprise more than pain.”
Ty hoisted Dru up against the wall, and slammed her back

hard into it, not kissing her, just his breath coating her face.
Her legs wrapped around him and he gently played his fingers
over her thighs even though he was pressing her firmly into
the wall. She could feel him thickening through his wet
trousers, making her gasp hard. His fingers slid around her
thighs as he moved his face over hers.
“Is this wot yeh like now? It has to hurt first?”
He squeezed her thighs firmly, but let go quickly and pulled

away. His eyes caught hers as his fingers traced over each of
her inner thighs, over identical scars. Dru turned away,
shaking her head. Ty looked down to her left thigh, his right
293
thumb grazed over a deep scar; his middle finger could feel
it’s twin on the other side of her leg. His left thumb did the
same, his finger felt the same scar from a blade going through
skin. He loosened his grip on her, his piercing eyes trying to
meet hers. She wouldn’t look at him. He tried to turn her face
to him, but she just shook her head. Sliding his hands around
her, he tried to hug her, to hold her, the battle wounds
painting a very different picture than what he’d thought. She
laid limp in his embrace, and felt the wall barricading her
tears begin to lose strength. Dru tried to pull away, but he
held her firmly. His jaw cricked as he tightened his teeth,
biting down so hard, it sounded like something was breaking
in his mouth. He racked his mind but he couldn’t think of a
single thing to say to her. Listening to her attempt to hold
back a sob was agony, especially since he could feel it bubble
in her chest, waiting to explode.
“Maybe we should try to start over.”
Dru sniffed and laid her head on his shoulder looking

towards the windows, losing her desire for a fight. Ty’s voice
was smooth, deep, comforting in his attempt to speak softly.
“Cheers, love. My name is Ty. And you are?”
He stayed there, gritting his teeth hard, the muscles in his

jaw cranking, but Dru wasn’t answering. He could feel his
eyes twinge with a burning sensation, not like tears, but
pulsing rage. Pure wrath was building within, but he was
trying his damnedest to keep it at bay. Their stomachs
grumbled loudly once more, making her snort softly, and he
turned his face in to her neck, but not for long. He still
couldn’t stand being so close, yet he couldn’t stand being so
far away either. He pulled her from the wall and sat down
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with her curled onto him, and she pulled away, even though
he tried to hold her close. Her wet jumper was stretching
from the weight of the water, and she tucked her bare legs
under it. He sat down on the floor with one leg bent, the
other stuck out, and he conjured a large tray piled with fresh
fruit. His voice was low and smooth again, only showing hints
of the anger simmering beneath the false calm. Few would
notice, but Dru missed nothing.
“Care to join me for a picnic? Weather’s just, lovely.”
A huge crash of lightning filled the room with light, and

Dru’s brow arched. Shaking her head, she didn’t respond. She
was exhausted, beyond a need for sleep. She felt like her soul
needed mending. Ty took a huge, thick blackberry from the
top of the heap of fruit and placed it to her lips.
“Yeh don’t like blackberries, love?”
He smirked, knowing full well she adored them. Her heart-

shaped lips parted for it, and she closed her eyes at the sweet
and bitter taste that coated her tongue. Bittersweet. Just as
she felt. Dru picked up a peach, and held it out to Ty’s mouth.
He snapped at it hard with his teeth, tearing the flesh of the
fruit, making the juice squirt everywhere. Dru dropped the
half-eaten peach as Ty chomped away, letting the juice flow
freely down his chin. He took more blackberries and started
chucking them towards her. She opened her mouth to catch
one or two, but he was tossing them too fast.
She threw a plum in retaliation at his head. A huge handful

of blackberries filled Ty’s hand, and he mashed them onto
Dru’s head. Mouth agape, she grabbed whatever she could
and started smashing the fruit over his bare chest and face,
295
his mouth taking bites out of anything he could until his

cheeks were full. They got to their knees in an all out fruit-
laden war, pummeling each other until the tray was empty.
Their faces were plastered with goop, and Dru’s hair was
stained purple. Ty’s cheeks were so full, he looked like a
chipmunk. Dru started to laugh a little, and he leaned over
her, forcing her back onto the floor, dripping juice from his
mouth.
He laughed too, and trying to swallow the fruit mixture

stuffed into his mouth. Swallowing hard, he tried to say
something to her, and she tried to say something to him.
Neither could find words. There was nothing left to say. She
wiped fruit from his face, taking in his different, more angular
features, thinking how he suddenly looked the same. Ty
picked chunks of fruit from Dru’s hair. Streaks of red, purple
and blue were laced into her blonde locks, making it look like
an indigo paintbrush had gone wild. Her skin prickled from
the chill of the still-soaked jumper. Smoothing his hand over
it, it disappeared, making her gasp. His eyes narrowed at the
many marks left upon her otherwise perfect body. Ty got to
his knees, slid his arms under her, and carried her off for a
long, hot bath.
Katerina woke in the middle of the night, panting and

trembling from a nightmare. Images of sharp claws digging at
her face and body left her unhinged. Aodh was still on the
other side of the door, he hadn’t moved for days. His head
rose when hers did, and he listened through the door. Getting
to his feet, he laid his hand over the door knob, when a tiny
hand touched him. He grumbled and lowered his hand. The
reverberation from his deep voice made Kat look towards the
door. She pulled the covers over her head, and breathlessly
told him to go when that small voice spoke to her.
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“Can I get anything for the Lady?”
“Why do you call me Lady? You are so nice to me.”
“Kindness comes from those who give it to those who deserve

it, Our Lady.”
Aodh silently cracked the door open, but Katerina sensed

him right away. Her face still hidden under the blankets, the
faerie shook her itty-bitty finger at Aodh. He gave her a
disapproving look and shut the door, and he spoke from the
hall.
“Kat? How are yeh? Please, let me come in.”
“Nyet.”
“Katerina, I am here to help, don’t make me..”
“Don’t, Aodh! Do not come in here! Nyet!”
Her voice cracked and he rested his forehead against the

door. The faerie flit about, doing something in the room,
coming in close, and going far away. Kat could hear tiny wings
fluttering when she came near. Pulling the covers from her
face, she slid out of the bed, and a group of faeries popped
into the room instantly, all talking at once. The noise made
her feel dizzy, and she sat back on the bed. She realised her
hand was bandaged with soft cloth. It was clean and dry, and
still free of pain. Her face didn’t scream in agony, she felt
better than normal. She certainly didn’t look it, however.
Talking outward to the room, everyone quieted as Kat spoke.
Aingeal flew close to Katerina’s shoulder.
297
“Can someone help me find a bathroom?”
“Certainly, milady.”
Katerina paused, and looked towards the direction of the

door.
“He won’t come in will he? Can you keep him out? He cannot
see me.”
Aingeal gave Katerina a look as the other faeries looked to

each other, in shock at the request. Katerina was looking to
the left, though Aingeal was to the right. But once the faerie
spoke, Kat’s head turned towards her.
“Dagda can do as he pleases. We cannot, and will not stop

him. He only cares, milady.”
Katerina sank back down into the bed, shaking her head, as
Aodh listened in at the door, as if he needed to listen in at all.
He could hear Katerina’s voice in his mind no matter where
he was.
“He vill not care when he sees... I do not want him to see me
like zis. I need the lav.”
“Dagda will not go against your wishes, even if they are

disagreeable.”
Katerina paused for a moment, contemplating this. She

stood again, and followed the faerie through the huge room,
thinking it was at least three times as big as her apartment in
New York. They went through a set of doors, and she stopped
when she felt something odd underfoot. It didn’t feel like
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bathroom tiles, it felt like she was outside. Birds chirped

loudly, and she could hear running water.
“May I have a bathtub? Please?”
Aingeal nodded, and a glittering dust fell over both women.

They left the massive quarters, and settled into a smaller
room down the hall. Katerina was led to a simple bathroom
where she was pleased to find a huge, old claw foot tub. The
faerie left her alone to bathe, only to run into Aodh waiting
outside that door. She made to explain, but Aodh shook his
head, and she flew away. He peered into the room, and heard
Katerina splashing in the tub. He listened to her for a while,
until he was shooed away by Aingeal and her tiny team. They
helped Kat dress and eat, and then back into bed. Once they
left, Aodh remained, listening to her move in the bed.
As she sat quietly, soft plucking of a harp filled the room.

She turned to the source, and climbed carefully from the bed.
Her hands reached out and found a magnificent harp in a
corner, inlaid with some kind of gems, playing the most
beautiful music. She walked around the room, touching
everything. Her hand caressed a carved wood wardrobe, and
then a door. She slipped her hand over the handle, and Aodh
watched it jiggle. Regrettably, it stopped. Katerina slid back
into bed. She fell into the most glorious sleep with the harp to
lull her into a magical, painless, fearless slumber.
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Chapter 19
Silent Month
Dru woke with Ty’s arms around her. A soft pillow of snow
rested on the window, reminding her it was still winter. The
mornings were becoming difficult to endure. They cuddled all
night, holding each other without a single word between
them. The task of crawling out of bed, wondering who would
be the first to break the silence was a game played with much
anticipation; a game that seemed to have no end. Dru sighed
as a warning that she was awake, and Ty’s arm loosened
immediately. He turned and left the warm bed quickly, as he
did each day, and she fought the urge to turn around and
watch his bare backside.
Some mornings, like this one, her self-control was rather

lax, and she nonchalantly turned over to catch a glimpse.
Flopping back down to the bed, she covered her face and
yawned loudly. It was so difficult keeping her hands to
herself. He walked around naked, slept naked, and she was
convinced it was a means of torture. He was impressive to
look at, from any angle, perfectly proportioned and toned.
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Every part of his body moved in perfect unison, like a

machine.
Dru traced a line in the air of Ty’s silhouette; a thin green

line waving in the air, making the form look animated. Ty
came back in to the bedroom, and she blew the wispy figure
into a faint cloud just before he sat at the edge of the bed. A
tray of breakfast appeared on the bedside table. He picked up
a carafe of coffee and poured a cup, added a little cream, and
handed it to her. He brought the tray to her lap, and started
spooning blackberries into a bowl of oatmeal as Dru poured
another cup of coffee, left it black, and handed it to him.
The plates were laden with eggs and sausages and toast, and
they ate quietly. Dru spooned the oatmeal, as Ty devoured the
eggs. They sipped on their coffee, and Ty nicked Dru’s toast
right from her mouth. She continued her attempt to ignore
him when he stood directly in front of her and cleared their
breakfast. Her eyes tried to peel away from the taut abdomen
in front of her, and the thin line of dark hair trailing low. She
closed her eyes and turned away, unable to have him so close
to her, not whilst she was awake. She scooted from bed and
went to the loo. Ty turned to watch her look at her bum in the
mirror, as she did each morning.
Ty went off to the hills on the opposite side of the sea.

Sometimes, Dru could see a faint outline of him when the sun
hit just right atop the hill, training, slashing a long sword
through the air with an odd elegance. She’d watch him,
impressed, but sad too. This was his life, a part she hadn’t
known before. Here, she thought she knew everything about
this man, come to find she knew precious little. She never
knew the hours he spent, perfecting himself for his people, his
land. She naively thought he merely kept in shape just to be
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fit. Everything with Ty held purpose; from what he ate, what

he wore, and what he said. If only he’d say what was on his
mind that night, if only he’d been open, instead of
withholding his emotions. If only.
Dru went up the stairs towards the highest level of the

house, just as she had been doing every day. Aodh and
Katerina were in the Royal residence, a level of the home
where no one could go without express permission of The
Dagda himself. Each day she’d try her foot over the threshold,
only to get knocked back from an unseen barrier that loved to
toss her from the step each and every morning. Sometimes
she’d sit there, waiting for him, wanting to see her friend.
Some days she’d keep throwing her foot across the line just to
be thrown again.
Eventually, she’d give up and go help Ty rebuild his home.

Some days, Ty would watch her as tears fell freely, and she’d
work through them, silent. Other days she’d be in the middle
of doing something, and would wander off. He’d eventually
look for her, and find her playing with a butterfly on her
finger, or building a snowman. Then at times, he’d want a
break and she’d keep going, staying out in the snow and cold
until he’d have to physically remove her.
Each night, Dru would try once more to get to the top level
of the house. But, it was useless. Back in the emerald and
amethyst coloured room, she’d tearfully strip down her
clothes and climb into a warm, welcoming bath. Ty would
climb in to the tub with her, though his knees were bent and
he couldn’t fit into it properly. He’d join her regardless, not a
word spoken between them as he’d lather her hair with her
favourite mixture of lavender and vanilla. Sometimes she’d
shave his face, sometimes she would fall asleep on his chest.
303
However, they’d retreat to bed, and start anew the next day,
entirely silent, always.
Days wore into weeks, and Aodh remained propped outside

of Kat’s door, waiting for her to realise he wasn’t going away.
The snow wasn’t coming as often, turning into more of a
slush. He left on rare occasions when the urge to simply pop
into the room was too difficult to resist. Aodh’s patience had
never exactly been one of his strongest suits, and it was
wearing thinner by the moment. Some nights, when it was
late and Katerina was sound asleep, he’d leave briefly to go
down the stairs and tear a gaping hole into one of the thick,
stone walls. He couldn’t push through to Kat. He couldn’t
force her to allow him in, she was the only thing on the planet
with some sort of hold over him. And she didn’t even realise.
Most nights, as he went down the stairs, he could smell a

faint flowery scent mixed with something sweet, and his
stomach would grumble hard. It smelled like Dru. He couldn’t
bring himself to see her just yet. This night, the urge to climb
into Katerina’s bed and hold her ‘til she was well was stronger
than ever. Aodh walked outside to get a breath of air, and call
for reinforcements. He saw the outline of Ty’s rebuilt home
standing tall in the centre of a tiny island, looking imposing
and dark even from this distance.
“Sir?”
A small voice spoke from the dark. Aodh responded lowly,

his stomach grumbling in protest of his refusal to eat since
Katerina arrived.
“I told yeh not to call me, ‘Sir’ didn’t I?”
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D. VONTHAER
“Yes, sir, you did.”
Aodh chuckled, “Yeh just did it again.”
“Yes, sir, I did. My apologies.”
“Get on with it, see yeh both soon. Take extraordinary care.
She’s a pill.”
Aodh went back into the house and straight to the top floor
to sit outside of Kat’s bedroom. Sliding down the door, as he
did each time, he turned his head to listen through the door
as his harp played for her, offering her rest, and comfort.
“Scotty, count me in.”
Niki was in the studio making another half-assed attempt at

a song she’d written over the past few weeks. She could find
nothing else to do whilst she waited, livid, scared, sick to her
stomach all at once. There were no signs, nothing about
Katerina since her disappearance. She rang in the New Year
alone, not answering her phone, unable to do much of
anything. She was counting along when a tiny voice crept
through her headphones.
“I am Avaryn. The Dagda requests your presence.”
“Huh? Who? What?”
Niki ripped off her headphones at the appearance of a

miniscule woman with colourful pink and blue wings,
speaking to her in a little voice. Scott spoke from behind a
glass wall, looking confused.
305
“What was that, Monica? Give us a few, I said. Are your

headphones not working?”
Niki shook her head back and forth pointing to the thing
with bright pink eyes that floating in the air. Scott looked
from Niki to another man, confused.
“Don’t you hear her? Do you see this?”
“See what, Monica?”
The men looked at each other and then at the singer in the
sound booth; she was pointing to the air. The faerie looked
around, her little fingers playing with each other as Niki
stared open-mouthed.
“The Dagda requests the presence of Miss Monica Elizabeth

Raisi, promptly.”
Niki’s mouth hung open, and the faerie flew close to Niki’s
face. They stared at each other for a moment, hazel eyes to
glittery fuchsia orbs. The faerie leaned into the mic and in a
sing-song sort of voice, shrieked, “The All-Father waaaants
Ms. Raisi not to be laaazeee and come to Avaloooonnnn, and
don’t be too lonnnng, he has a ballerinaaaahhhh…”
“Katerina? He has her? She’s okay? Is she okay?”
The faerie’s voice sang out into the sound booth, but for
Niki’s ears only. The men in the sound room raised their
eyebrows at Monica, thinking she was talking to herself. Scott
started talking again, and Niki threw the headphones down,
tears filling her eyes. She left the sound-proof booth and Scott
rushed in to meet her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
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D. VONTHAER
He was a bit taller than Niki, with a bright smile, deep tan,
and hand-tossed hair that took hours to perfect. The faerie
kept whispering in a little tone into the mic,
giggling softly as Niki grabbed her coat and huge handbag.
“Monica? You feeling okay, babe? You don’t look right.

What’s up?”
“Scotty, I don’t feel good. Maybe it’s something I ate. I need a

break. I’m sorry, I’ll call you.”
Arm in arm they went out to the brisk New York street, and
Scott hailed a cab. The faerie fluttered close behind, carrying
the microphone, which was as tall as her. The cord dragged
on the ground, and the little faerie attempted to wrap it
around her flitting body, making her hover low. Niki could
see and hear her, but she was sure if Scott saw her talking to
herself, he’d have her committed. Whilst the cab was pulling
up, he leaned in to whisper into Niki’s ear.
“Is she okay? What’s going on?”
“Scotty, I jus-I just don’t know. I need a break. I’m going

somewhere to get some sleep. I can’t focus right now. I’m
sorry.”
“Okay. Call me. Keep me posted, babe.”
He kissed Niki’s cheek and helped her into the cab, and
almost slammed the door shut on the faerie’s pink and blue
wing. Niki’s foot shot out to keep the door open. The mic
appeared to float into the cab on it’s own, a fact Scott didn’t
realise until
307
they drove away. He shook his head, wondering if he, too, was
going mad. Niki took the mic from the faerie’s little, pale blue
hands, and whispered.
“Why did you take this? It’s as big as you!”
“I thought Miss Raisi might want it in Avalon?”
The cabbie looked in his rear view mirror and snorted. They
arrived at Niki’s apartment, and she stuffed the mic in her
purse. They quickly went through the lobby, avoiding the
concierge and valet. Trying to act like nothing was amiss Niki
went to the elevator, the faerie following closely.
A man stood in there with them, and Niki stared at the

small female creature, her knee shaking as they rode up
through the building. The faerie flitted around, observing
everything from the buttons to the emergency alarm, Niki’s
mind trailed elsewhere, not paying attention. The door
opened, and as the man stepped out, his toupee came clean
off of his head. The faerie screeched at what she thought was
a critter, and threw it to Niki. The man turned around, and
Niki was left there, wide-eyed, and speechless. She handed
the false hair to the man, and mumbled something about a
bug as he took the hairpiece back, scoffing. The doors shut
again, and Niki started in on the faerie.
“What is with you? Stop touching everything!”
“Why does he wear a beast on his head?”
Niki began to speak, but the faerie floated close to her and a
shower of sparkling dust rained over their heads. The elevator
door opened with a tiny bell, but no one was inside. The
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D. VONTHAER
woman and faerie appeared on a long stretch of snow-covered

beach that left Niki completely stunned. She followed quickly
after the faerie who was flying at top speed, making Niki’s
lungs ache from the freezing air.
They went to a palace so large, Niki could have fit ten of her
father’s houses in it. She went up the steps after the faerie,
slipping on the ice. Once inside, the faerie turned abruptly
and said, “Wait here.”
Nodding, Niki did just that, thinking how wearing jeans and
a sweater felt like inappropriate attire. Her hazel eyes scanned
the richly detailed floors and intricately carved archways
when she saw Aodh coming down the stairs, Avaryn in tow.
“Aodh, where is she? Is she okay?”
“Hi, Niki. Follow me.”
The god, the songbird, and the faerie walked through the
palace to a room that was smaller than anticipated for the size
of the rest of the house. It had a huge set of windows with a
view of a garden of statues, all covered in ice and snow. There
were comfortable chairs and sofas, and an enormous hand-
woven rug over the stone floor. A thick oak door shut them
in, and a fire sprang to life in a large fireplace that had ceiling-
high stone plaques engraved with ancient writing. Aodh
gestured for her to sit, but she shook her head, not wanting to
sit at all. Avaryn went to Niki, eying her handbag.
“I can take these things to a room for you, Miss Monica

Elizabeth Raisi.”
309
Aodh stared at them both. Niki had a look of bewilderment

on her face. Going from Niki to Avaryn, Aodh piped in as he
poured two measures of whiskey; one glass full, the other only
partially.
“Oi, how’re yeh going to carry a bag that can fit ten of yeh in
it, Avaryn?”
The faerie looked down with a look of defeat and Niki finally
understood. Niki opened her huge, saggy handbag and took
out the microphone, and handed it to the tiny faerie.
“There, rock out.”
Avaryn disappeared with a gleeful expression, the cord

wrapped over her little body. Aodh shook his head as he
tapped Niki’s shoulder, making her sit down in one of the
large, comfortable chairs.
“Do I even want to know wot that was about?”
Shaking her head, Niki snorted in a half laugh, half fearful

way, not knowing what to really say or do. Whatever it was
felt like it couldn’t be good. She accepted the glass and started
to drink immediately, not liking the look on Aodh’s face.
“She wants to be a rock star, Aodh.”
“Drink it slowly, this isn’t like regular whiskey for humans.

It’ll knock yeh on yer arse.”
Niki nodded, already feeling a stinging in her throat, but she

spoke anyway.
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D. VONTHAER
“Just say it, don’t take it slow, just get it out. I’ve been worried
sick. Where is she?”
Aodh drank his in one, full swig, and then another before he
sat in the chair next to Niki.
“Katerina’s here. She’s safe. I want to have a chat before yeh

see her.”
Niki drank hers complete, coughing for a second, her throat

suddenly raw. Aodh waved his hand lazily as the cut-glass
bottle filled both of their glasses on it’s own, whilst hovering
around mid air. Niki drank a little more and started making a
hand gesture for him to just get on with it.
“Kat’s been hurt, Niki. Severely.”
Niki sat it roughly on a small round table. Her eyes started

to well with tears and she lowered her head, folded her hands
and started rocking as Aodh explained.
“A daemon took her, and he has damaged her face. She won’t
allow me in or help her. I can’t go against her wishes. I can’t
bear for her to be alone for another moment, so asked yeh
here.”
Tears fell to the thick rug as Niki’s head hung, and she
choked as she spoke.
“What do you mean she won’t let you? Can’t you do, like
anything? Just go and do it!”
“I have limits, Niki. Her desires are true and real. I can’t go
against them. Not with her.”
311
Niki wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve and stood up,
sniffing and stuttering.
“I w-want to see her. T-take me.”
Aodh’s glass floated to the table to sit next to Niki’s. She

kind of gasped at him, now she had a good look at him.
“Aodh? You’re looking kind of, you know, skinny. For you.
What are you only four-hundred pounds now? What’s going
on? Your face is all sunken.”
His stomach growled hard, answering Niki for him, and he

led her out of the room. The fire sank back into the hearth
when they left, the snow-covered statues from the garden
glowed through the darkness. Niki walked up the stairs after
Aodh, having to jog to keep up as he took three steps at a
time. They got to the second floor, and Aodh stopped
suddenly, causing Niki to run into him. He grabbed her before
she fell down the stairs, and she looked around to see why
they stopped. To the right was Ty, to the left was Dru. Aodh
avoided Dru’s eyes. Niki just sort of looked at them, as they
were also staring at her, and she clutched her purse out of
New York habit.
“This is Niki, Katerina’s best mate and..”
Ty’s voice cut over Aodh’s, interrupting, sounding confused.
“A mortal? Here?”
Aodh turned to Ty, and gave him a severe look, and nodded
curtly.
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D. VONTHAER
“Aye, Ty. A mortal. I’m hoping Kat will respond to her. She
can’t go on like this.”
Dru walked closer to the them, dressed in a bathrobe, her

wild hair taking up almost as much space as Aodh, croaking
frog slippers on her feet.
“Aodh? Is she ok? Wot can I..”
Aodh ignored her and continued walking up the stairs,

pulling Niki with him. Ty and Dru looked after them. Aodh
stopped again, and Niki fell back a few steps. Dru caught her
on the back, and Aodh set her straight, ignoring the fact Dru
was there, or that tears were streaking her face. Dru
whispered as Niki watched utterly confused. “I’m so sorry.”
Aodh warned Niki as they continued up the stairs.
“Oi, Niki. Make sure yeh don’t touch Ty.”
“Huh? Why? I didn’t say he was hot or anything. I mean,

why? Hmm?”
Aodh spoke loud enough for Ty to hear him, and Dru’s ears
perked up.
“Oi, that goes for Kat as well, mate. Ever.”
Aodh got to the top floor, the invisible barrier thinning for
Niki and he explained.
“Don’t touch Ty cos he’s not only the god of war, but also
fertility. Yeh’ll get pregnant.”
313
Niki made a horrified noise as Aodh led her down the hall.
It was especially quiet up here, even the sounds of the sea
couldn’t be heard. She started to whisper, not understanding
what he meant.
“Pregnant? From touching me?”
“Aye.”
They got to Kat’s door, and Aodh opened it quietly, his harp
still playing in the corner. Niki walked in to the pale pink and
white decorated room. Everything was soft, comforting satins
and silk. Niki thought it looked like it was specially made for a
ballerina. Aodh peered over her head, but Kat wasn’t in the
bed. He stepped in to the room, but Niki pushed him back
out, her finger to her lips. Whispering, she pointed to the
bathroom, making sure he stayed out.
“She sleeps in the bathtub when she’s scared.”
Niki peeked in to the bathroom; it was very neat and clean

with pink and white roses in little vases nestled on shelves.
She could see Katerina’s body lying inside of the tub, and she
peered over the side. Niki saw the state of her friend’s face
and almost fainted. She gasped, and Katerina jolted awake.
Aodh yanked Niki away, and took her to the sitting room at
the opposite end of the corridor. Niki sobbed heavily, thick
tears falling, her voice so melancholy, it drifted down the
steps to where Dru sat. Once the singer’s voice hit Dru’s ears,
she too fell into her folded arms, and wept.
“What happened to her? What the fuck happened, Aodh? Her

face! Where is her face?”
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D. VONTHAER
“She was tortured, by a daemon. I need yeh to stay strong,

Niki. For her, and for me to get through to her. I can make it
right.”
“Her face! She’s skin and bones. She looks like she was
mangled. How am I supposed to sit with her? She has to be
hurting so bad, she needs a doctor!”
“We haven’t a healer at the present time, but she’s in no pain.

I’ve taken it for her.”
“You took it? I don’t, I don’t get it.”
Niki looked at Aodh, her breath sporadic. She could see

redness in his eyes, he looked so thin and pale. Niki’s nose
became as red as her eyes as she cried. She curled into a ball
in one of the chairs after a while, thinking how much Kat
must have hurt. She couldn’t believe that was the same
woman she knew and loved more than family. Aodh had gone
back to sit in the hall so could Niki collect herself. Finally, she
plucked herself from the chair and wiggled her finger for him
to come to her. Eyes swollen, nose running, she had him bend
down, her voice sore from crying.
“I need some stuff. Like scarves, hats, wigs. Stuff I’d wear on
stage.”
“Oi, she don’t need to cover herself up, it doesn’t matter at all.
That’s why..”
“Oh shut up, and get it, okay? She doesn’t want to be seen,
and until she feels comfortable, this is how it is. Get it for me.
For Katerina.”
315
Niki waited for morning. Once Avaryn told her that

Katerina was awake and dressed, she went to the door.
Knocking softly, Aodh stood behind her, anxious to hear Kat’s
voice.
“Aodh, nyet. I don’t vant..”
“Katerina? It’s me, Niki.”
“Niki?”
Both women sniffled with the door between them. Niki

opened it, even against Katerina’s protests. Kat covered her
head with her sheets and Niki knelt down in front of her,
unable to prevent herself from crying.
“I brought our old getups, just like we’re hiding from the
cameras. I even brought your blonde wig, the one that feathers,
just like an angel.”
Katerina shook her head, hiding under the sheets. Niki

didn’t know what to do, she was so used to seeing those big,
innocent eyes looking back at her. Niki sat the bag on the bed
and buried her head into Katerina’s lap, sobbing. They sat
that way for some time, until Katerina started playing with
Niki’s hair, making her cry even harder.
“I’ll shave my hair off, Katerina. I will.”
“Nyet! Don’t you dare, Niki.”
“Does it hurt? Do you need something? Like a pill or I don’t

know...”
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D. VONTHAER
“Nyet. Zee pain just, went away. I’m comfortable.”
Katerina took the sheets away from her face, and Niki had
to bite her lips to keep herself from gasping or crying too
loud. She wiped her wet face with the back of her sleeve and
took a black wig from the bag. She stuck it on Katerina’s head,
and took a strawberry blonde one for herself. Hours passed
before the door opened, and Aodh backed away, his heart
racing when he saw her come out of the bedroom, covered in
shawls and scarves. Niki was dressed up as well, and they
started down the hall.
“Oi, Kat, let me help yeh down.”
“No, nyet, Aodh, I don’t vant you to see.”
“Rubbish.”
Aodh scooped the frail woman into his arms gently, afraid of
cracking one of her brittle bones. He carried Katerina down
the stairs, and Niki followed quietly to the front door. He held
Katerina longer than necessary once on the ground floor. He
took in her scent, it was the same as always, beautiful. She
tapped his arm, her small hands no more than bone.
Delicately, he sat her down, and let Niki take his place for a
short walk in the garden, with Aingeal and Avaryn flitting
nearby. Aodh watched from a very short distance, his thin
patience finally worn.
Each day was marginally better. Katerina walked outside

with Niki daily as Aodh watched intently, waiting. Aodh
visited Ty to see his progress, and they were there, working
together in silence. Aodh still hadn’t yet said a thing to Dru,
and now he felt worse, having made this so much harder than
317
necessary. He didn’t know where to begin to fix their

relationship. Aodh went to her as she stood near a rounded
corner of Ty’s home, when she disappeared into thin air.
Aodh looked around, surprised, and Ty spoke from behind
him.
“She’s been practising.”
“I see. How’re you two getting on?”
Ty cleared his throat, and scratched his head.
“Well, we’re not screaming at each other, if that’s your

meaning, Aodh. How is Katerina? Listen, I was bang out of line
before, I’m just not accustomed to things being, so… different.”
Aodh clapped Ty hard on the shoulder, sending his left foot

sinking into the soggy earth. Aodh looked around the stone
castle, alone on the island just big enough to hold the
building itself. Ty took him around, showing him small details
as they spoke, both of them watching Dru pop on and off in
the distance. Aodh spoke quietly, his heart heavy.
“I shouldn’t have blamed her, Ty. I shouldn’t have laid that at

her feet.”
“Perhaps. But, Dru has her own daemons to sort out. I’ve
known her quite some time.”
Aodh nodded, watching Dru far off by the willow trees

popping between the huge trunks that were growing close
together on the outskirts of the woods. He started asking a
random set of questions, for no real reason than to have
another bloke’s ear.
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D. VONTHAER
“How old are yeh, Ty?”
“I was born the year of your slumber, sir.”
“Oi, don’t. I hate that piss. Do not call me sir. Or Lord, any of
it. Aodh will suffice.”
“Aye, mate.”
“How long has it been since Dru has spoken, Ty?”
“About a month now, I s’pose.”
“And yer sleeping together in the gem room?”
“Sleeping. Yes.”
They made their way to the top of Ty’s castle; from here
they could see each corner of Otherworld, each mountain,
every field, each arm of the sea. Small flashes of light came
from the distance, and Ty pointed to it with a chuckle.
“Dru. She’s learnt to create fire, and hold it. Not like before.
She could conjure it, but it had to have a source to allow it to
burn. Now, she’s the source.”
“How’re yeh teaching her if yer not speaking?”
“I’m not. She’s teaching herself, Aodh. Going it alone.

Stubborn woman she is.”
Aodh’s eyes opened wide with surprise, watching the flash

of fire light up the cold, wintry landscape. Ty kept going,
making Aodh peel his eyes away from his best mate.
319
“How’re yeh feeling, Aodh? First of February is tomorrow.

Will spring start as usual or are we having an extended
winter?”
Aodh looked back out to the land. The snow was melting,
allowing sprigs of grass to stick out from the blanket of white.
He could spot Katerina and Niki in one of the gardens, and
Dru’s flame grew brighter as he thought about it.
“Winter’s been quite bleak hasn’t it? Think it’ll do everyone

some good to have some kinder weather.”
“Aye, especially since it’s in honour of your daughter. Spring

will be very welcome this year, indeed.”
Aodh’s neck cracked ominously as he turned his head to Ty.

“Daughter? Brigit? Is she still alive?”
Ty made a face, forgetting how much Aodh didn’t know.
“No mate, she is not with us, yet. The first of February has
been set aside in the mortal world for St. Brigit.”
“Oi! Saint? My daughter?”
“Oh, aye. They canonised her ages ago.”
“Canonised? They made a Celtic Goddess, my bloody

daughter into a..a..”
“Christian saint, yes. Sorry, thought you knew.”
Aodh’s nostrils flared dangerously, and Ty wisely left the

roof with a quickness.
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D. VONTHAER
‡‡‡
Katerina and Niki sat for tea in the kitchen when Aodh
appeared. Kat had been holding a dainty cup with a straw,
and almost dropped it as soon as she sensed him. Niki took
the cup from her hand, and sat it on the table. Catching
Aodh’s eyes, she excused herself to the restroom. Aodh stood
behind Katerina, cringing at how bony her shoulders were.
“Hungry? Can I make yeh something? Well, not me

personally. But, can I have someone cook something up that
won’t taste like rubbish?”
From behind the thin scarves, Katerina would have smiled,

had she been able to. He knelt down behind her, and she
could feel his massive form casting a shadow over her, even
though they were indoors. His finger gently traced over her
shoulder, and she took his hand off with hers, his eyes
narrowing at the bandage hiding her missing finger. Her hand
lingered in his as he caressed it, just for a moment. He got
closer to her, his unshaven face brushing over her rail-thin
arm when he spoke.
“I’m not giving up, Kat. Never. Time is always on my side.

Enjoy yer tea, doll.”
Niki came back, still in her wig and glasses. Aodh walked
out, losing his previously calm demeanor. Niki sat down and
mumbled under her breath.
“He looks so thin. For a beast, I mean.”
“Thin? Aodh? Vot?”

321
Then the faerie Aingeal spoke from the other side of the
room.
“Dagda has not eaten since your return, Our Lady. He

refuses.”
Katerina turned her head, and sat straight, trying to sense

where the faerie was coming from. Aingeal flew closer to the
table as she spoke.
“He has had neither a morsel, nor a drop of drink. He will not
until Our Lady will see him again.”
“Vot? He won’t eat? Aodh? But he loves to eat!”
Katerina sat still whilst Niki dipped a chocolate coated

biscuit into her tea, watching Katerina think.
“Aingeal? Aingeal? May I ask you a question? Vot does Aodh

look like to you?”
Niki arched a brow, and held the biscuit in her mouth. She
put her hands high into the air, and then opened her arms
wide. Katerina sort of looked in her direction and waved for
Niki to stop.
“What? How did you even know what I was doing?”
“Goodness, I can feel you being snitty, Niki. Aingeal? You said
you only see people for vot they are. Eez this true for zee gods?
Vot does Aodh look like to you?”
Aingeal got closer to Katerina, so close she could feel the

tiny wings flutter. Other faeries started to flit into the room,
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D. VONTHAER
making Niki look around curiously at their shimmering,

brightly coloured hair and magnificent wings. She spotted
Avaryn with the microphone still wrapped around her little,
bluish body as she hovered in the distance, the cord tangled
in her shocking, pink hair. Aingeal began to speak, and the
other faeries interjected, shouting their ideas at Katerina’s
curiosity.
Large. Enormous. Massive. Ravenous!
“Well, we always wonder. He looks to us, tall.”
Katerina nodded.
“And at times serious-but at times very silly! Loving, but

when he has not eaten- A beast!”
Katerina looked towards that last one that spoke, and

Aingeal shushed them all, and took a seat on Katerina’s knee.
Her voice was calmer than the others, reserved and
thoughtful.
“We see him as tall, and usually handsome unless he has lost
someone. And then he seems to grow as dark as his sorrow.”
Katerina thought about this, and heard the other faeries

murmuring in the background when Aingeal asked a
question.
“May I ask Our Lady a question? You have seen Dagda with
human eyes?”
“Oh, yes, I have seen him.”
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“Is he quite fat, Milady?”
“Aodh? No, he eez not fat at all!”
A huge burst of high-pitched chatter came from the faeries

in the room. Niki looked at them, and sipped her tea,
wondering for a moment how they saw her.
“We ask because he eats so very much, he is never satisfied.

He takes exercise so much as well, we cannot tell if he should
be very fat, or very fit.”
Katerina giggled a little for the first time in a month. Aodh

walked in, but backed out a bit, staying in the doorway as
Katerina answered.
“He eez not fat. You are right, he eez very tall, and his face is
so handsome. He ‘as deep dimples in his cheeks that come out
when he is laughing or very happy. His eyes are blue, like
sapphires, and they have tiny globes that spin in the iris. They
are so, pretty. He is just as you see him, Aingeal. Perfect.”
Ty and Dru came in from the back garden, and stopped

short when they saw the room filled with faeries and the
mortal women. Aodh stepped from the doorway. Katerina’s
head turned, wondering why everyone got so quiet. Aingeal
left her perch on Katerina’s knee, and everyone stared at each
other like they were intruding on something private.
Aodh felt like he should say something. Though, whenever

he said something, Kat would hush him and lock herself away.
He saw Dru standing back by Ty, and thought how different
things could have been if only Ty had done as prophesised. Ty
had been afraid, Aodh understood that. Afraid of taking that
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D. VONTHAER
vow, just to walk away to the arms of death. He couldn’t allow

the same mistakes to pen their futures. His best mate’s vivid
eyes spoke to him all the way across the room, and he found it
difficult to peel his eyes from her as he walked fully into the
kitchen.
Aodh went to Katerina, looking so small and fragile at the

massive wood table. He stood for a second, and took her left
hand in his. She shook her head, but he ignored her, and
dropped to his knee as everyone watched with bated breath.
He took her hand to his lips, rubbing her soft skin over his
scratchy beard. Her bandaged hand felt around his face,
looking for his dimples.
“Katerina.”
She remained quiet, her frail hands travelling over his face.
She could feel that he was thinner than usual. His face was
scratchy, and she would have cried had been able. He sighed,
not sure how to say it properly, when he quickly blurted out
the first thing that came to his fraught mind.
“Mo ghrá thú. Ba mhian liom cuid eile mo shaoil a

chaitheamh in éindí leat. An bpósfaidh tú mé?”
Ty, Dru and the faeries all made loud noises of surprise, but
Kat and Niki just shook their heads. Niki chucked a
chocolate-covered biscuit at Aodh’s head, and yelled, “She
can’t speak Irish!”
“Too right yeh are, Niki.”
Aodh kissed the inside of Kat’s tiny wrist, and she could feel
his dimples begin to sink deep into his cheek.
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“Katerina. I love you, and I would like to spend the rest of my

life with you. Marry me.”
Niki and Katerina gasped together, and Aodh held onto her
hand as Kat wrapped her arm around his neck. Katerina
squirmed, but he held firmly onto her hand, hearing Dru sniff
in the corner.
“I won’t accept no as a final answer. I’ll be back, each day, on

bended knee, asking again and again until yeh have me. I’m
rather stubborn, Doll.”
Katerina shook her head. She couldn’t allow him to see her,
ever. But, as he spoke, his voice played on her ears like the
soft thrumming of the harp. It tugged at her, pulling the last
speck of courage she possessed. Finally, she nodded, and
whispered weakly, “Da. Yes.”
The room exploded with flowers and applause. Aodh picked

her straight out of the chair, and she buried her head into his
shoulder. He called out to everyone in the room. It became
suddenly quiet, although random blooms continued to fall
from the ceiling.
“Wedding is tomorrow. Prepare Avalon for her queen.”
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Chapter 20
Birds and Bells
Aodh reluctantly released his soon-to-be bride when the

faeries swarmed them, forcing him to set her down gently. He
so wanted to kiss her just then, but they were not having any
of it. They ushered Katerina away, but not before he kissed
her veiled cheek, lingering there as long as the faeries would
allow him. Niki ripped the wig and glasses from her head,
throwing them onto the table. Her eyes were filled with tears
as she looked at Aodh. She walked over to him, nodding too,
and he sort of patted her hard on the head, making her
quietly, say ‘ow.’ She walked away, calling after the faeries to
let her help get Katerina to bed, as throngs of tiny creatures,
more than she had seen before, followed, chatting animatedly
in their little voices. A few faeries stayed behind, along with
Dru and Ty who were still by the garden doors. Ty left the
kitchen quietly, the other faerie folk following closely behind.
Aodh and Dru turned to each other, Dru’s hands still

clasped over her mouth. He went to speak, but Dru ran right
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over to him, and he picked her right off her feet. He hugged
her tightly as she cried onto his huge, rounded shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, I’ll do anything, Aodh, I’m so sorry.”
“Oi, stop it. I oughtn’t have blamed yeh at all.”
“I’m so sorry. I’ve missed yeh so much, I’ve tried to get up the
stairs and they always knock me back.”
“Are yeh okay? I should have asked yeh before, but.. I was an
arse.”
“I’m fine, Just fine. Except right now, yer sort of taking my
breath again.”
Aodh sat her down with a chuckle, but not really letting go
of her at all. He pulled her to have a seat. He held her hand on
the table, and rubbed his unshaven face with his other. He
looked thin, worn, yet elated. Dru rubbed his cheek, and
spoke.
“Mate, yer looking peaky. Should eat something.”
“Dru? Would yeh preside over the wedding?”
She nodded, and lunged forward to throw her arms around

his thick neck.
“I’d be honoured. Of course! I can’t believe yer getting

married!”
Plates of food appeared on the table, and Aodh dove in,

whilst holding Dru’s hand, not daring taking it off. She laid
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D. VONTHAER
her head onto it, sniffing, so happy to have him back, to see
him happy. His hand was under her cheek, and she leaked
salty tears on it, her hands holding onto his arm as he ate
huge mouthfuls at a time. They stayed this way for hours until
Dru’s eyes dried, and Aodh's stomach stopped growling.
Upstairs, Niki helped Katerina to her room, and they sat on

the bed together holding hands, Niki crying tears Katerina
couldn’t. Aingeal stayed in the room, fussing over a speckle of
dust lying on the gilded harp that played a merry, boisterous
tune in the corner. Niki pet Katerina’s hand, and was about to
say something when Katerina did first.
“He will love me, even though I am hideous? You think that is
true, Niki? Did you see his face?”
Niki nodded, and kissed Kat’s hand, choking on her tears.
“Yes, I think he will love you, no matter what. And, you’re not
hideous. But, I saw his face. Why?”
Niki started helping Katerina take off her hat as Katerina

spoke.
“Vot did he look like? When he asked, vot did his eyes say?”
Niki placed the wig on a bust sitting on the dresser, the

faerie listening in, though she was pretending not to.
“Well, he hasn’t shaved in a while. He hasn’t been eating, so

he probably weighs a little less than a Clydesdale now. His face
was turned away from me, so I couldn’t see his eyes, but he had
one of those deep dimples in his cheek once you said agreed to
be his bride.”
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Katerina nodded, and stood up. Niki tried to help her, but
Katerina put her hand up.
“Nyet. I have to walk down zee aisle alone. I need a dress,

flowers, and of course a veil. Aingeal?”
Niki eyed the white-haired faerie who flew over to where

Kat was standing, wondering why Aodh couldn’t just fix her
friend. Just wave a magic wand or something and make her
whole again. Kat spoke to the faerie about what she wanted,
and the faerie nodded and assured her she could have
anything she desired. The faerie went to the bathroom to lay
Katerina’s satin pillow into the bathtub, where she had been
sleeping. Katerina shook her head, and the faerie put it back
on the bed. Seemed that Kat wasn’t feeling so alone tonight.
Niki left with the faerie so Kat could get some rest. Once the
door was shut, Niki called the faerie to follow her down the
hall to the sitting room.
“Aingeal? Listen. I was wondering, isn’t there a way, you

know, you can get Aodh to fix her up? Put her back to normal?
It’s her wedding day, I think he should.”
The faerie flitted around, contemplating this mortal

request.
“The Dagda cannot undo the magic unless Our Lady wishes
him to do so.”
“What? You mean, she just has to ask him to?”
“She needs to want him to, not necessarily ask.”
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D. VONTHAER
Niki had a look of confusion on her face. It made no sense to

her whatsoever.
“She has to want it? I think she wants it, she can’t even drink
some tea without a damn curtain over her face. Trust me, she
wants it.”
“Our Lady must desire it for it to be so. She has desired her
pain to go, and it has gone. She desires a white wedding dress,
and she shall have it. As she wishes. She hasn’t desired to be
otherwise altered.”
“Yeah right, I get it. But I think she desires to have her face
back too. I mean, come on, can you believe she..”
“She has not expressed desire to be altered, in any way, Ms.

Raisi. Good evening, tomorrow shall bring abounding joy.”
The faerie disappeared, leaving Niki shaking her head with a

look of disbelief on her face. Katerina just had to want to be
healed, and she would be? Niki went down the stairs to her
lilac and cream coloured suite. As she went down the hall, she
saw Ty approaching. She slammed her door shut, heeding
Aodh warning, leaving Ty standing there with a look of
bewilderment on his face.
Ty waited for Dru, but she never did come to bed. He

showered, instead of taking a bath since she was gone. He
crawled into bed wearing pajamas, for once, and laid awake
until the sun crept over the horizon. She wasn’t there for
breakfast, and he didn’t feel particularly hungry. Ty went
down to have coffee in the kitchen, but stopped abruptly
when he caught sight of Dru and Aodh.
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They were sleeping soundly at the table, facing each other

like they’d been whispering and chatting all night long nose
to nose, their arms layered into each other. Aodh’s heavy
snores rocked the table’s legs, and Dru’s hair flew back and
forth in wisps as Aodh drew breath, and then exhaled.
Someone yawning came up behind him, and he nodded to her
with a groggy smile. Niki was weary eyed, mumbling
something about lilacs and tea waking her up, and Ty
chuckled. At the sound of his voice, she jumped and nearly
scaled the walls to avoid him. Aodh and Dru sat up, startled.
Dru’s hair looking like a lion’s mane as Aodh wiped a line of
drool from the corner of his mouth.
Ty walked away from Niki who was backed against a wall,

and he conjured coffee for everyone, and sat at the table.
“Morning. Congratulations are in order. I didn’t get to say

last night. Not much for planning, are yeh mate? Well done.”
Ty poured four cups of coffee, and everyone looked at Niki

to see if she was going to sit down. Chuckling, Aodh stood
and went across the table to offer his seat to Niki, though
there were more than enough seats. Problem was, she’d have
to get by Ty to get to any of them. Niki waited for Aodh to
move, tugged at the chair he had been in and pulled it away
from the table before sitting. Dru blinked at her, then handed
her a cup of coffee.
“Blimey, and I thought I wasn’t ready for kids, eh? We haven‘t

officially met I’m Dru.”
The boys chuckled and fixed their coffee and Niki just stared
at them, not even touching the cup.
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D. VONTHAER
“No, I’m not ready for kids. No, uh uh, no way. Is the coffee
okay to drink?”
Dru answered, laughing. “The coffee’s fine, luv.”
Niki still seemed skeptical about touching the mug, and

Aodh made her a new one, untouched by Ty. She cradled the
mug into her hands, welcoming it as they all laughed.
“Wot time is the wedding?”
Ty asked with a noticeable glance towards Dru that made

her quirk a brow. His accent was thicker again. She loved
hearing his voice again after so much silence.
“Dusk.”
Aodh answered as the table filled with pancakes and

pastries. He began to eat, his form already filling back out to
what it had been before.
He continued, “Niki. Wanted to ask. Would yeh sing at the

wedding tonight? Kat would love it.”
A heaping stack of pancakes filled his plate as he squeezed a

lemon onto them, followed by a sprinkle of sugar, Niki’s lips
curling.
“Oh, um, of course! What do you want me to sing? You put

lemon on your pancakes?”
Everyone looked at Niki like she was an alien, and nodded.

Aodh started talking with his mouth filled to the brim.
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“Aye. Wot do yeh eat on them?”
“Maple syrup. What song?”
“Oi, erm, a traditional Gaelic blessing. Syrup? Wot’s that?”
Everyone started laughing around the table, except Aodh

who ate ravenously. Niki continued about the song, Ty and
Dru sipping their coffee.
“Hey, focus big man. What song? I don’t know anything

Irish.”
“Blimey that’s right, yer Italian, eh?”
“I’m Sicilian, Aodh!”
Niki gave Aodh a look, and then laughed softly, realising he

was toying with her. Ty was giving Dru a different kind of
look as she picked at some fruit. Something in Ty’s piercing
eyes gave her an idea. Dru turned to Niki, and scooted her
chair close to the songstress. Taking away the coffee cup, Dru
sat it down on the table, and leaned in, cupping Niki’s face.
The boys watched on, startled. Niki’s eyes remained open, and
unblinking as Dru softly kissed the corner of her mouth.
A soft breath crept from Dru to Niki filling her with their
language, their music, their long history of heavenly melodies.
Niki remained frozen, but felt like she was defrosting as a
warm breath tingled her every nerve. A faint green light swam
from Dru’s heart-shaped lips into Niki’s as she passed k
knowledge to the singer. Neither Aodh nor Ty moved a
muscle as they watched Dru snog Niki. Dru pulled away with
a grin, leaving Niki sitting there, unmoving, unblinking. Dru’s
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D. VONTHAER
voice broke the palpable silence as she stood, popping a final

bite of strawberry into her mouth.
“There yeh go, should be all set. Don’t wear green, it

antagonises the dark faeries and banshees. I’m going to get my
ceremony in order. Cheers, darlings.”
Dru walked out. Ty and Aodh stared stupidly, Aodh’s fork

still hanging mid-air when they looked at each other in an
odd sort of way. Niki touched her lips tenderly, and Ty stood,
holding back a chuckle. He clapped Aodh on the shoulder.
“I want to be the first to offer luck to the bride. Let me know if

yeh need anything mate.”
Ty walked by Niki, who jumped into Dru’s chair to keep her
distance. Aodh shook his head and started eating again. Niki
cleared her throat, waiting until they were alone.
“Aodh? I spoke to one of those faerie people, and she said you
can fix Katerina. Make her normal.”
He looked at her, and sat the fork down. Taking a final drink
of juice, he pushed the plate away, and leaned over to look
Niki in the eyes.
“She is perfectly normal. She doesn’t need fixed.”
Niki’s mouth fell open, and she scoffed. Her voice raised,
aghast.
“What?! She is NOT normal. Do you forget what she used to

look like? How beautiful she was before you got into her life?
She’s disfigured because of you!”
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Niki stood up as she started to holler, and Aodh stood up as

well, towering over her. His voice staying soft as hers grew
louder, more erratic.
“I know the price she paid, Monica. However, I can’t do a

damned thing until she wants it done. It can’t be forced. Kat
has to desire it, wholly. I’d have thought by now she’d have
wanted it, but she hasn’t. The moment she does, she will be
granted wotever her heart desires. I can’t help her heart doesn’t
desire it! And, for the bloody record, I do remember wot she
looked like, and she’s still as perfect as she had been, don’t let
me ever hear yeh say any different.”
Aodh left Niki there, fuming. Niki climbed to the top level
of the house, her blood boiling. She stopped midway down
the hall. She could hear Ty speak to Katerina through the
door. He said his goodbyes, and turned towards Niki. Given
the look of horror on her face, he spun around promptly and
went the other way. Once he was gone, Niki went to Kat’s
door and knocked. Katerina’s voice started to call out, but a
group of faeries appeared on the other side of the door,
Aingeal in between them.
She spoke as the others tugged at Niki’s robe.
“We are assisting Our Lady, you must go practise.”
“What? NO! I’m going to help her, make sure..”
Aingeal got a stern look on her pearly face, and flit right
before Niki’s face, her gold and white wings batting a breeze
onto her face. Aingeal’s glittering gold eyes glared, and she
knew she was defeated. Niki sighed and shook her head,
whispering as soft as she could muster.
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D. VONTHAER
“Look, it’s not like that, I just want her to ask, to know it can
be done!”
Aingeal smiled, but in a false way as the faeries started to

move Niki from the door.
“Our Lady is as she is meant to be. Go practise, you will need

it. We will assist from here.”
Niki shrugged the faeries off, and went to Kat’s door again.
Whilst the faeries usually had a sort of silvery-blue glow about
them, they suddenly seemed more of a cloudy grey.
“Katerina? I want to help you get dressed, and you know, help
out with things.”
“Niki, eez fine! I am lying to rest now anyways. Go ahead and

do vot you need.”
The faeries forced Niki away from Katerina’s door. Niki

fumed, thinking Kat probably wasn’t wearing her scarves, she
didn’t want to go put them on. If only she wanted it. If only
she’d ask. The faeries escorted Niki to her room like mini-
bodyguards. She suddenly felt a kind of invisible wall form
behind her as she descended the stairs.
She went to her room, which smelled exactly how it looked;

like lilacs and cream. Only one faerie stayed behind, Avaryn.
The small faerie unwrapped the microphone from her body,
and handed it to Niki who was staring out at the water, sullen.
Niki took it, and the faerie helped her choose a song, a dress,
and tried to offer her a bit of comfort, “It is as it should be,
Monica Elizabeth Raisi.”
337
The sun finally began dip in the sky, and Aodh stood under
a vast canopy of roses in white and crimson, and every shade
in between. His face was clean shaven, his hair trimmed short,
wearing a decorated black suit. A thick ribbon of plum
crossed over his left shoulder. It had stripes of red and gold
emblazoned on it. Symbols of his valor decorated the ribbon
down the center stripe of red. A long sword stayed at his left
side, and his right arm was covered in thin strips of intricately
braided ribbon in alternating colours of red, gold, and purple.
The chest of his suit was not open to reveal a white shirt,
instead it came all the way to his neck with only one visible
button. A large gold Celtic knot kept the neck together with a
ribbon of the same three colours that crossed at the ends. Ty
stood at his side, also formally dressed in black wearing a
similar ribbon, only in a deep crimson, angled the opposite
way. His sword rested to the right, and he had about a quarter
of the arm bands Aodh possessed.
The snow had melted since the previous night, and it was a
bit milder than it really should for the time of year. They
faced the sea with the beautiful gardens behind them. A soft
hum of music began. It sounded like a harp mingled with a
soft song of birds, carried by a faint melody of bells. Ty kept
looking to the sea awaiting Dru. He could feel Aodh’s massive
shoulders bump into his as the god swayed back and forth,
seeming nervous when he broke the silence.
“Ty, I’ll need to see yeh tomorrow morning. And make sure
not to touch Kat.”
“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir?”
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D. VONTHAER
They sort of looked at each other and Ty nodded, and Aodh

clapped him hard on the shoulder yet again, making him
groan.
“Understood. Have you spoken to her about that yet? She

ought to know, sir. Erm, Aodh.”
Aodh went to speak, but Ty turned his head. He could smell

lavender and vanilla wafting from the garden. Aodh turned
with him, a proud grin on his face as Dru walked through the
statue-laden garden. She wore a sleeveless white robe with a
hood covering her head; her long waving locks peeked out,
falling down her shoulders. A golden rope was tied loosely
around her hips and her hands remained folded across her
chest, each hand on the opposing shoulder. She stopped
under the vast, fragrant canopy of roses, and the hood slid off
of her head on it’s own. A thick, golden swag appeared around
her neck that draped over her shoulders and spilled down her
back onto the petal-strewn ground. Her eyes met Aodh’s, but
Ty turned his eyes before she could meet his glance. Both
gods snapped into place, their hands folded across their
waists, hands gently lingering on their swords.
Niki walked quietly behind Dru from the garden, and went
to the right to circle around. She wore a pale gold dress with
bunches of white roses in her hand and in her hair. Aodh
nodded to her, and she turned towards the sea. The bird’s
softened their call, allowing Niki’s powerful voice to take over.
A long carpet of rose petals covered the cool ground from the
front of the house all the way around to the back garden.
Aodh drew in a quick breath, as he was the first to see

Katerina’s head approach. She walked down the petal-covered
aisle, dressed in a brilliant white gown. A veil of white lace
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covered her, trailing down the back as a hundred faeries held

it off the ground as she walked. Her bouquet was a fragrant
mix of white and red roses, with a few pink in between, just
like the canopy overhead. Niki’s voice cracked seeing her
friend, but she managed to hold herself steady. The faeries
shone blindingly white as they followed their Queen.
Aodh stepped forward when Katerina approached. He

turned on his heel, and bowed to Dru, then swiftly turned
again, and bowed to Katerina. He snapped upright, and held
his hand out for hers. But, she didn’t take it, and he took her
elbow instead, forgetting in that moment she couldn’t see
him.
“Yeh look so beautiful doll,” he whispered as they faced Dru

together. Niki’s song ended, it’s majestic tune carried over the
Irish hills, lulling the land into rest. Dru stepped forward,
gesturing Niki to stand behind Kat, off to the side. Dru held
up a small woven white lace horseshoe. Gently, she pinned it
on Katerina's miniscule waist for luck. Stepping back she held
up two strips of beige cloth. Joining their left hands together,
she wound the cloth artistically, offering a blessing.
“I wish love in your hearts,

Laughter in your tears,
And peace in your souls.”
Stepping back to her place at the altar, she raised her hands
with a wide grin to everyone.
“Dearest beloved! We are gathered together in the face of this

company – to join together this man and this woman in
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D. VONTHAER
matrimony. Into this cherished estate they now come to be

bound forever, in love. If any being believes they should not be
joined together – let them speak now or forever hold their
peace.”
Not a sound was uttered. The faeries let Katerina’s train

down, covering the petal-strewn path as far they the eye could
see. They encircled the altar, and Dru’s voice carried over the
land.
“This relationship stands for love, loyalty, honesty and trust,

but most of all friendship. Before they knew love, they were
friends, and it was from this seed of friendship the bloom of
love has grown.”
Looking up at Aodh, Dru placed her palm on their bound

hands, speaking with a crack in her voice.
“Do you Aodh, High King of the Tuatha Dé Danann, take

Katerina Brigid Maximova to be your wife, to live together in
the purest estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her,
honour and keep her, in sickness and in health, with riches, or
none, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and
bestow upon her your heart’s deepest devotion, forsaking all
others, keeping yourself only unto her for all of eternity?”
Aodh voice spoke loudly, making everyone jump except for

Ty, who grinned sheepishly to himself.
“Aye. Yes, yes I do.”
“Do you, Katerina Brigid Maximova, take Aodh, The All

father, High King of the Tuatha Dé Danann, to be your
husband – to live together in the estate of matrimony? Will you
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love him, comfort him, honour and keep him, in sickness and in
health, with riches or none, for better, for worse, in sadness and
in joy, to cherish and bestow upon him your heart’s deepest
devotion, forsaking all others, keeping yourself only unto him
for all of eternity?”
Katerina’s voice was soft, and choking back emotion as she

nodded from under her white lace coverlet. “Da. Yes, I do! I
do!”
Dru unraveled the cloth from their hands, and held the two
strips up in the air. With a flash of light, they turned into two
separate rings, made not just of metal but mixed with their
sweat, tears, and love.
In a broken and happy voice, Dru called out:
“May these rings be blessed as the symbol of this affectionate

unity. These two lives are now joined in one unbroken circle.
Wherever they go – may they always return to one another.
May these two find in each other the love for which all men and
women yearn. May they grow in understanding and in
compassion. May these rings symbolise the touch of the spirit
of love in their hearts.”
Handing the small ring to Aodh, Dru fought back tears that
refused to stay put.
“Aodh, in placing this ring on Katerina’s finger, repeat after

me: Katerina, you are now consecrated to me as my wife from
this day forward and I give you this ring as the pledge of my
love and as the symbol of our unity. With this ring, I thee wed.”
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D. VONTHAER
Aodh turned to Katerina, and Niki sort of sidestepped to see

better as he slipped the ring onto Katerina’s finger, repeating
what Dru had said. The ring glowed momentarily, and Aodh
spoke in his native tongue, forgetting she couldn’t
understand.
“Inniu pósfaidh mé mo chara, an duine a dhéanaim gáire le,

an duine a dhéanaim brionglóid le. Maireann mé duitse, a
mhuirnín. Mo ghrá thú. Tugaim duit an fáinne seo, Ón lá seo
amach Dílis i Cónaí, Is liomsa thú. I gCónaí Agus Go Deo.”
Everyone stared at him, Dru smiling brightly. He quickly

translated for Niki who looked at him, completely
exasperated.
“This day I will marry my friend, the one I laugh with, live for,
dream with, love forever. Yer my love. I will spend the rest of
my life with you. I give you this ring, and from this day forward,
I am yours faithfully, and you are mine. Always and forever.”
Dru continued to Kat, handing her the large ring which Kat
placed on Aodh thick finger, her hand trembling.
“Aodh, you are now consecrated to me as my husband from

this day forward and I give you this ring as the pledge of my
love and as zee symbol of our unity and with this ring, I thee
wed.”
The ring glowed, as Katerina’s had for a moment, etching

her name onto Aodh’s finger, under the ring. Katerina tried to
speak, but she just couldn’t find her voice. Dru, however,
continued.
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“Aodh and Katerina have consented together in marriage

before friends and family and declared their unity by giving and
receiving a ring – and are now eternally joined. And so, by the
power vested in me by the ancient Druids and Mother Nature
herself, I pronounce you husband and wife. May your days be
good and long upon the earth. Aodh, you may now kiss your
beautiful bride.”
Aodh looked at Dru, and then Katerina, who had turned

towards him. He hoped she’d allow him to remove her veil.
Slipping his fingers under it, he whispered to her, “I love you.”
He lifted the lace veil from her face, pushing it to fall behind
her. Every single being gasped loudly. Even the birds paused
their song, and Kat squeezed Aodh’s hand tightly, holding on
to him, bracing herself. The remaining snow vanished. All the
colours deepened, becoming more vivid, more beautiful and
lush.
Long locks of curled chestnut hair fell down Katerina’s back

under the lace veil, a beautifully ornate tiara perched atop her
head. Her huge, brown eyes were soaked with tears, as was
her face, her pouty lips trembled from sheer emotion. Aodh
thumbed her nose, and looked around, not believing his eyes.
Aingeal looked back at him, with a soft nod as the sun began
to sink below the horizon. Aodh looked back to Katerina, and
picked her straight up from the ground as everyone cheered
on, clapping. Ty’s loud, piercing wolf-whistle cut through the
air. Katerina’s fingers sank into Aodh deep dimples as they
kissed. A thousand butterflies encircled them, rising high into
the air as the sun set, and the faeries’ soft glow illuminated
the garden. Dru and Niki were clapping so hard their hands
hurt, both of their face streaming with tears.
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Aodh wouldn’t put Katerina down, making everyone laugh

through the tears. The birds began to sing, and the newlyweds
didn’t seem like they would to part. Finally, Dru and Ty
walked away, the butterflies stopped flitting around them,
and Niki went to talk to Dru. Stopping about five feet from
Ty, he chuckled and walked away, Kat and Aodh remained at
the alter, still kissing in the same spot.
“Hey, um, I think I should go home. I don’t think a crowbar

would separate those two.”
Dru looked at her, and then to Aodh and Kat, nodding a

little at the thought.
“Yeh don’t want to stay for a while?”
“I shouldn’t. I’ve been gone for a few weeks, and it’s not like
my cell phone works here.”
“Okay, I can take yeh tomorrow, or..”
“Can it be tonight? I’m kind of the third wheel, the only guy
here that isn’t married can get me knocked up without so much
as a kiss you know?”
Dru snorted, and looked over at Ty.
“Sure, we can go tonight.”
The girls went to Aodh and Kat who were still lip-locked,
the faeries still cheering and clapping along.
“Oi, best give it a rest or the faeries are going to collapse,

mate,” Dru said with a laugh.
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They barely peeled away from each other until Niki

explained she was going home. With great reluctance, Aodh
let Katerina down. Katerina escorted Niki to the water, their
arms interlocked, as they shed tears and hugged, and chatted
at such a rapid pace, Dru couldn’t even understand what they
were saying. Dru held Aodh’s arm to the water’s edge as Ty
stayed behind. The girls waved goodbye, and started to step
into the water when Katerina screamed out to them to wait.
Turning around, she tossed her bouquet of flowers. Just as the
waves crashed down over them, the bouquet fell into one of
their arms, and the waves took them out of Otherworld. Aodh
picked Katerina up in his arms, and she giggled, asking, “Who
caught eet?”
Aodh chuckled, “Who cares?”
The faeries bathed the couple in glimmering dust that

melted into the glow of the dying sun. Glitter covered them
and the entire beach. Ty walked off silently, leaving the pair
to themselves. Aodh carried Kat back through the lushly
blooming gardens, and all around the exterior of the palace
whilst holding her snug, their lips inseparable. Aodh carried
her into the house, up the many levels they went, the tall,
thick oak doors of their bedroom shutting behind the
newlyweds. Katerina’s train shut into the door, trailing along
the hall, flowing down the many levels of stairs all the way to
the grand, oak front doors.
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Chapter 21
Honeyed Moon
Aodh carried Katerina across the threshold into their

gloriously appointed bedroom. Their lips hadn’t parted since
he took her back into his arms, nor did they once the great
oak doors shut on the trailing silk and lace. He walked away
from the door when a sound of ripping made Kat giggle. The
oak canopied bed was covered with champagne coloured silk
bedding that was heavily laden with rose petals of every shade
between ivory and crimson until they spilt to the floor.
Candles burst into life all around the room.
“You can put me down, Aodh.”
“Nyet, I don’t think I want to, actually.”
Katerina laughed heartily, rubbing her nose over his.
“You said nyet!”
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“Aye, I surely did.”
Aodh sat down on the edge of the bed, and Katerina rested
on his lap. He held one of her hands up to his so their palms
rested together. Her fingers barely even made it over his
palm, and why this made him grin, he didn't know, but he
was grinning nonetheless. Her finger was back in place, as
perfect as it had always been, the Claddagh ring adorning it,
turned in. He slowly traced down her open palm, to her wrist,
and then her arms. He just wanted to feel every single bit of
her, make sure she was truly healed. He kissed her wrist as
her fingers lazily touched the sides of his head. Draping her
arms over his shoulders, he moved his hands over her bare
skin. Soft dark chocolate ringlets tickled his fingers as he
inspected her for any sign of injury.
“How? I didn’t. I would have. But yeh never wanted it, Doll.”
“You didn’t? I woke up like zis! I thought, eet vos you! Eet vos
not?”
Aodh shook his head, examining her beautiful face, not

finding a single scar. He leaned in to kiss her neck, and
lingered there before pulling away with an answer.
“The faeries. They have found yeh worthy. I couldn’t have,

unless yeh truly wanted it.”
A small sound escaped Kat’s lips and she breathed hard for a
moment, distracted by his mouth. He nuzzled her neck for a
second, as she tried to find her voice.
“Y-you did not know? You still married me, thinking I’d be
like that, forever?”
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D. VONTHAER
Aodh pulled away, and took her face in both of his massive
hands. This made him smile; her face was completely
encompassed by them. His eyes were sapphire again, a little
bit brighter than usual, his deep voice definitely more jovial.
“Aye. When I said I loved yeh, I meant it. No matter wot.

Forevermore.”
Katerina threw her arms around his neck again, planting her
lips to his, tears of happiness filling her newly restored eyes.
She scooted off of his lap, and he took her hand in his. He
lifted it in the air, and she spun around and around; her white
gown puffed up and spun in the air with her. Catching her
mid spin, he slid off the bed to his knees. Sweeping her dark
hair to the side, he he undid each and every tiny satin covered
button, one-by-one. Unhooking each thin loop of fabric, from
the top of her strapless gown all the way down below her
waist, he gently undid her dress. Slowly, he opened the back
of her gown as it fell away from her body.
Still on his knees, he lifted her right out of it; the gown left
standing on it’s own. Resting his forehead against her back, he
saw a sliver of skin peeking through her corset on her hips,
and they both inhaled deeply. He unclipped a garter belt, and
peeled away the thin film from her thigh, down her leg, until
he reached her heeled foot. She turned around so his face was
level with her stomach, and his lips caressed the inch of
exposed skin. He pulled off her shoe and yanked at the
stocking until it lay limp like a shed snakeskin upon the floor.
Moving to the other leg, his fingers graced the line of her
knickers before taking the stocking down her leg, the warmth
exuding from her could have warmed the entire house.
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Every nerve in her was awake, sounding some inner alarm

she had never felt before. Her hands smoothed over his face,
and he stood back up, towering over her after his mouth
lingered over her corseted body whilst he stood. With a gentle
push she encouraged him to sit on the edge of the bed again.
Snatching her gown from the floor, she turned in one fluid
motion. She walked with her gown in hand, her hips giving a
little switch with each graceful step. She opened a closet door,
snagged a hanger, and made a deal about hanging it up high,
getting on tiptoes to hook it whilst Aodh watched with a grin.
She sauntered back to him, standing before him as he sat on
the edge of the bed, his sword and belts falling to the floor
with a thud. Even sitting he was about as tall as she was. She
started to unclasp the single gold button at his thick neck as
his hand traced over her hair and skin, his eyes refusing to
part with her.
“I’m brunette. Not blonde.”
“Suits yeh better.”
Both of their voices were low, like they were hiding the fact
they were even in the room alone together. She felt so
nervous, like if she paused for too long she’d fall right through
her skin. She slid his jacket off with a bit of a tug-o-war, and
then started to unbutton the crisp white shirt that had been
hidden underneath. She got two buttons undone, and Aodh
just tugged at it, all of the buttons popping off into the room.
He tore the shirt off and sent it to a heap in some dark corner,
kicking off his shiny black shoes to follow. She turned her
back to him, and got up on his lap, which made her gasp; she
could feel him, thick, and long against her back. Swallowing
hard, she pulled her hair up and pointed a finger over her
shoulder to the back of her laced up bodice. Aodh obliged,
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giving one firm tug at the string holding it all together. The
laces loosened, and he slid it off of her, holding her bare torso
in his huge hands, and he leaned his face into her back. Two
fingers traced her spine from her neck down as he spoke into
her skin.
“Are yeh frightened, doll?”
Kat nodded, unable to say much of anything. She took one

of his hands from her side, and brought it to her face, and
sank her lips onto it, catching her breath. Aodh pulled her
around on his lap, still mesmerised by her soft, beautiful face.
“Don’t be. I’m gentle as a..a..I don’t know, can yeh think of a
gentle animal for me?”
She laughed softly, her face blushing as he picked her up,

and turned to lay her down on the petal strewn bed. Taking a
particularly large red petal from the bed he traced it from her
foot, up her leg, and tucked it into the thin white lace of her
little knickers. Slowly he crept up her body, her bare chest
hardly touching his as he took his mouth to hers. Suddenly,
he felt a bit nervous too, for her, for himself, feeling like it was
a first for them both. She had penetrated him first, and didn’t
even know it. He felt like the virgin here. He hadn’t known
love before her, and had never made love to a woman.
Shagging, sure. But never love. This too was a first for him, for
it was not simply sex, it was love stamped over passion and
desire driving every fiber of him now.
Peeling his mouth from hers, he crept back down her body,
blowing softly over her until he met the rose petal tucked into
her snowy lace panties. Removing both the petal and knickers
with his hands, his knees met the floor. He handed the petal
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to her open hand. He could easily spend hours admiring her

body like one would a work of art on a plinth. She was
fidgeting; he could feel her skin jump with each touch. With a
smirk he kissed her inner thigh and mouthed I love you onto
her skin, and dragged her leg over his shoulder. Soft kisses
touched down every part of her legs, hips, and everything in
between until the tip of his tongue met that little pink bud of
metal, her sly piercing. Pulling her hips to the edge of the bed
he took her other knee over his shoulder, and tasted her
chastity like the ripest fruit one can imagine.
Kat held onto the rose petal in her hand, squeezing it as he

taunted and teased her with lips and breath, making her
twitch beneath him. A high gasp filled the room when his
tongue entered her. She had thought of this night, and what it
would be like to give herself to her husband. But, for one
reason or another she had never imagined this, how it would
feel having every nerve trembling beneath her skin, her body
shaking against his. Never had she imagined what this kind of
pleasure would be, for of course, she had never experienced
anything like it. It was delectable and frightening the way he
touched her, devoured her, and made her bite her lip. The
petal’s flavour bit at her tongue as she began to breath
heavily. Her chest rose and fell with a quiver, holding onto his
closely trimmed hair as her knees knocked against him.
Her toes curled up a little and she called out to him, the
intensity of it all shaking her from every which way. She
squeezed that petal harder, her nails breaking it’s skin and the
strong scent invaded her nose as she breathed even heavier.
She had been taunted and teased about the pain this night
would bring when she was younger, but no such pain was
anywhere near her. It was the most incredible feeling she’d
ever had in her life. She’d never touched like this before, and
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certainly never felt so completely out of control. A louder

moan escaped her and she reached for one of his hands. She
had to hold something, or she would shoot right off of the bed
like a bullet. Aodh took her hand, letting her squeeze him as
hard as she needed. It just made him want her more.
She squirmed against him, her hips bucking and moving

with his mouth, not wanting it to stop, but feeling like she
would faint. Her forehead was beading with sweat. Her hands
trembled and shook, as her moans grew louder. She
continued to gasp for air, thinking she would indeed explode
or fly right off the bed any moment. Then he started
humming, and she let go and gasped so loudly, she was
certain she was going to burst. The blanket of petals stuck to
her glistening skin as her body began to quake. Everything
was spinning, the room was a blur of colour and fragrance,
her body sticking with beads of sweat and she couldn’t help
but shriek. Her voice rang out, echoing off the walls and back
to her ears as her legs squeezed and tightened. The pulse of
his hand pushed against hers, and she squeezed his hand so
tight, the petal wilted.
Her whole body lifted from the bed, and finally fell back in a
fluff of rose petals. They slowly came down to her and the
bed, and she watched them as if in a drunken stupor. She
wasn’t sure if she should cry or scream, or faint. Her hand still
held onto his for dear life, afraid to let go, and he crept back
up her body, his face wet from her. He slipped his hand from
hers for a just a moment as he kissed her neck.
He slipped his hand gently into hers again, and something

hard and small stuck into her palm right through the
shriveled petal. It’s strong and beautiful scent lingered. Her
thighs were stiff and shaking, dripping against his body as she
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brought her hand to her face, wondering what was poking her
palm. A piercing ring was stuck to the inside of her palm.
“Vot was zis ring? Mine’s pink, not orange.”
Smiling and smirking, two deep dimples sank into his

cheeks and he stuck his tongue out at her. The pink gem
shimmered in the flickering candlelight. She looked at the
orange ring in her hand, it flowed inside of the gem casing,
like lava. She looked at his tongue, then covered her face with
her hands. A bottle of champagne floated towards the bed
and popped right next to them, making her squeal. The
tinestone ring flew off to someplace unknown. Shaking off the
petal stuck to her palm, she looked at his handsome face and
kissed him, deep and slow.
The bottle fell onto the bed, soaking the petals, washing
their bodies with bubbling, golden drink. His pants were
sliding down his hips, his body pushing it’s way out to her,
wanting her touch as much as it’s owner. He couldn’t help but
move along her body, her moist skin tantalizing him,
provoking his entire body. His body was so strong, rippling
muscles pressed against her, and then she realised the huge
length of him pressed against her stomach. Pulling away from
their kiss, she actually felt a pang of fear now. He pulsed
against her honey body, wanting her, loving every drip and
droplet of her he could ingest. She was afraid to even look.
Wrapping his arms around her, he hiked her legs around his
waist and slid off the bed. He stood there with her heavenly,
stark body wrapped around his as he held her. They were
soaked with a mix champagne, sweat and sex, as he tore off
his trousers and socks. Carrying his glorious bride, he walked
with her across the room, her legs still wrapped around him.
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The door to the loo opened on it’s own, and immediately

the colours and sounds changed as they entered. It wasn’t
really like a bathroom she was probably used to. Right near
the door was tiled and clean with basins and even two
separate doors for private loos. But, the further he walked, the
tiles disappeared, and a sound of rushing of water grew
louder. Bird’s songs echoed in the cavernous place.
The palace was built directly into the hills. It looked like a
bathroom at first, but quickly turned into an oasis. Waterfalls,
a beach, stones and birds invaded what should have been
walls and a ceiling. Her body was teasing him as they walked,
brushing against him, taunting his with her sweet, moist skin.
A great waterfall spilled into a wide, fresh water lagoon. Small
spurts of water spouted from rocks here and there, but the
water was warm; it was their shower.
Whispering in her damp ear he said, “I don’t want to hurt

you. Tell me if I am, and I will stop. Straightaway.”
He walked into the water, holding Kat in his arms, their

mouths refusing to come up for air, even for a second.
Lowering his body into the water, he took her further towards
the waterfall.
Cupping her hands into the water, Kat poured small

handfuls onto his head and massive shoulders. Her hands
lingered in the water as they moved and bounced in the deep
lagoon, his mouth tasting her skin as they got deeper into the
water. Arching her back, she dipped backwards, soaking her
hair and body into the water. The rush of the waterfall grew
louder, disturbing the water, making it bubbly and ripple
around them. Staying back, she allowed the water to play over
her, Aodh watching with an ache.
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His hands smoothed over her as she leaned back, and pulled
away from him. They played in the heated water, dipping
under the surface, playing with each other’s bodies until
finally swimming under the waterfall. The water was shallow,
bubbling, and very warm like a bath. She stood up facing a
wall of rock that jutted out, making tiny strips of mini falls
spurt here and there when he came up behind her, still low in
the water. His lips dragged over the back of her hips. He
applied his mouth along her back before standing entirely,
her skin prickling under his touch. She couldn’t stop the
shaky feeling she got every time he kissed or touched her, the
feeling of her knees getting weak.
When he stood, she could feel him hard against her back.
She leaned back so he could bend down and kiss her. He was
holding her small waist gently, trying so hard to refrain from
squeezing her too tight. He slipped them over her firm figure,
and they mumbled in unison, “I love you.”
His voice echoed heavily in the hidden cave, sending chills

down her spine even though she was bathed in warmth. She
couldn’t help but tremble feeling him against her; it seemed
he took up half of her entire upper body. He turned her
around, picked her back up to pull her legs tight around his
waist, and laid her against one of the flat, smooth rocks. As
much as his body was begging for her, he was so afraid of
hurting her. Their hands explored each other’s remarkably
toned body, neither able to keep their hands still, neither able
to pry their mouths from the other. But the more he touched
her, she reciprocated, making him throb against her.
Her hand went down his thickly carved abdominals and she
touched him with her small hand, making him groan and
twitch against her touch. His eyes closed, and he kissed her
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deeper when she pulled away, and she nodded. Her arms
went around his neck and she nodded again with her nose to
his. Gently, he pulled her onto him, his hands guiding her
narrow taut hips as their noses rubbed together. A hard,
heavy groan escaped his mouth as he did, and he paused. Just
an inch inside and he could feel her hymen blocking him. Her
lips parted, but no sound came, just hot, heavy breath laced
with anticipation.
Gently he moved only an inch in and out of her as he kissed

her mouth again, preparing her for what was to come. A tear
found the corner of her eye as he held her tight, barely
moving, looking to those cocoa eyes to see if she was alright.
Coaxing her tongue again with his own he kissed her luscious
mouth, and with a great breath he went further in, exhaling
deeply into her mouth as she shrieked. Breaking through that
thin barrier of chastity, her innocence, they began to make
love there under the waterfall.
Kat froze for a moment, her eyes clamped onto his, and he
knew she was okay. His breath was nearly as forceful as the
rest of him and she cried out loudly and high pitched, their
mouths together as he went further. Tears leaked from her
eyes and she buried her face into his neck and shoulder. Not
realising it, she had clawed his back with her nails when he
entered her.
Gulping for air she kissed his neck, and slowly moved her
body with his, the pain washing away slowly. A deep, rolling
rumble came from him as he squeezed her hips more, moving
her little body with his. She let go of his neck, and laid back
against the rocks, Aodh’s arms slid around her, protecting her
perfect flesh from the rocks. She pulled her leg up, and he slid
his arm under it, so it could go over his shoulder. She was so
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small, her ankle barely reached. Her sheer flexibility made

him feel a bit mad. His nose came down to hers as she lay
back on that rock. Slowly, with small kisses he touched her
lips, barely able to stand the suffocation sensation.
His muscles were grinding under his smooth skin, like a

clockwork in motion, pushing and pulling in ripples beneath
the flesh. Kat squirmed like a fish out of water, her voice
growing louder and louder in the lagoon, frightening the birds
far away. Aodh kept looking to her eyes, not daring to even go
all the way, their hips not even close to touching. He looked
down, and saw a thin stream of red flowing down his legs as
their bodies moved together. He watched their bodies meet,
slipping against each other, the visual alone making him want
to scream.
He went slow, deliberate, building up a steady momentum.

Her entire body began to contract and shake, her moans
harder and louder as he kept going. Her legs tightened and
her voice moaned to a high pitch that reverberated off the
walls calling his name. She held onto his body as best she
could, but he made sure she was going nowhere. Her lips
wrapped around his bicep as she shook in his arms. She was
completely out of control, and it was the most amazing
feeling of her life. The entire room seemed to stand still.
Her walls tightened and pulsated around him, making him

groan lowly, his ragged breath becoming heavy and hard. The
suffocation was pulling low in his stomach, building
tremendous pressure. His head reared back when he heard
her call his name, and a deep roar came from him as they
found their end together.
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Literally, like an explosion in a foxhole, the walls echoed

their quaking bodies. The two sounds, high and low, rang out
in the cavern sending every bird from the canopied trees
looking for cover. Throbbing and barely able to breath, he put
his forehead on the top of her wet hair, his mouth tasting it,
lips feeling every part of her they could touch. His hands were
frozen on her, holding her close to the point of smothering. In
all his many years, never had the breath literally been
knocked from his chest and his body frozen and unable to
move. His chest rose and fell heavily against hers, both bodies
shaking and low rumbles still coming from the utter depths of
his soul with each exhale of breath. His arms trembled with
her little body perched in them, quivering as his body slowed.
They lingered in their private cave a while, holding onto

each other, afraid to move, afraid not to. Eventually, Aodh
carried her through the lagoon, back through the bathroom to
the bedroom, only to find their bed was still covered in
champagne-soaked sheets and petals. Holding her tightly, he
took her to the large fireplace raging on the far wall. A huge
pile of furs covered the floor along with dozens of silk pillows.
He knelt, and laid her on the bed of furs. The fire burned hot
and welcoming, drying their naked bodies instantly. Hovering
over her, he examined her face. She was so beautiful. Had he
told her ever?
“You are so beautiful, love. Have I ever told you that?”
He lowered his body onto hers gently to kiss her, making

sure not to crush her under his considerable weight. With
much pain, he moved to the side and laid next to his bride.
He allowed the fire to hit his back, the wavy shadows
highlighting the glow on her already shimmery face. They laid
next to each other, her arms looking like mere twigs next to
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his, her feet only reaching barely below his hips as they lay.
He couldn’t quit touching her. His fingers had to play with
her hair, and hers had to draw along his stomach, like her
fingers were painting him.
Trays of food and new glasses of champagne floated towards

them, and Aodh took one to hand to her. She gave him a look
as he grabbed a strawberry from the tray to offer her,
obviously her mind was working on overload.
“You can do all of these things. And you stayed in that small
apartment. Why?”
She bit into the strawberry, and Aodh sat his drink down to
feed her, watch her, touch her.
“Cos I thought I’d make a good repair man, love.”
“And you thought you could fix my studio?”
“I did, if yeh recall. I do like that peanut butter.”
Katerina was in a fit of giggles as they fed each other, still

bent on wanting to know why he’d chosen her, of all the
women in all of the world.
“Da, you put eet all over my kitchen sink. Now I’ll just put the
sink between a couple slices of bread, and you have lunch. Did
you know? Some of zee faeries think you very fat.”
Aodh laughed heartily, thinking they were ornery.
“Well, they are great cooks. Yer a great cook. Not much for
an eater, but yeh make it wonderful.”
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D. VONTHAER
“Why did you do that, when you could have been living here?”
“I just wanted to get to know yeh is all. Can’t imagine being

here without yeh, already. I can see yeh dancing in the front
hall. I’ll make yeh a studio, here, in the house.”
“Why?”
“So you can dance. You don’t want me to?”
“No. Well, yes I would like very much to dance, but do you
think you should hire a carpenter? He won’t use up all zee
peanut butter. I meant, why did you want to get to know me?”
He chuckled and offered her another strawberry, kissing her

as often as she’d allow him, and right now that was at any
given moment. His lips to hers, he spoke into her strawberry-
flavoured lips.
“Cos I liked hearin’ yeh talk. Can’t understand a bloody thing,

but, we’ll use body language. I don’t reckon I’ll need a bleedin’
carpenter. I can have my peanut paste and eat it too.”
Aodh chuckled, and Kat drank a little before sitting her

glass down next to his. A line of tears leaked from the corners
of her eyes, and he pulled her face up to his, “Wot? Are yeh
okay, wot’s wrong?”
Katerina couldn’t look at his eyes, she just buried her head
down into his shoulder, as he tried to understand what it was
she was saying. Speaking into his chest, she was mumbling.
He could barely understand her as it were. He pulled her tear-
stained face up to his, and she tried to speak clearer.
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“I just love you so much.”
Aodh exhaled hard, wrapping her body up with his. Her

head turned into him and he held her tight, her hair drying
from the fire as he pet it. He laid on his back so she could curl
onto his chest and he started to talk to her, telling her what
she meant to him, whilst pulling ribbons of her hair through
his thick fingers. She nodded, sniffing occasionally, but after a
few minutes she didn’t respond. He pulled her face up to see
if she was still crying. But no. She merely fell into a blissful,
deep sleep, lulled by the voice and body of her husband.
“I love yeh too, Dollface. For all of time.”
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Chapter 22
Minutes to Midnight
Aodh closed his eyes. It was the first time he’d fallen asleep
since Samhain. Until now, he hadn’t felt so much as a yawn.
But, he found sleep, better than he’d ever remembered. Only,
it wasn’t long before his eyes flashed open. Kat was sound
asleep, and he remembered what it was he had to do. Trying
not to wake her, he slipped out from under her, and covered
her up with a lingering kiss to her sleeping cheek. He dressed
quickly and left the house, going straight to a figure waiting in
the dark by the water’s edge. He approached Ty and clapped
him on the shoulder, Ty grumbling under the weight of
Aodh’s hand.
“Hi mate, Dru not back yet?”
Ty didn’t turn away from the water, he just kept watching

the waves as they spoke to him. He shook his head and
replied, “Nah. She saw Niki off, went to the city for a bit.
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Knowing her she saw a vintage boot sale and will bring back
half the shoppe.”
Aodh snorted; he could see Dru doing the very same thing.
He didn’t know what to say to Ty, really, or if it was even
proper to bring it up. Dru was the most important thing in his
life, next to his wife.
“Let’s go inside for a chat, if yeh don’t mind, Ty.”
Ty simply nodded. The two gods walked along the quiet

corridors of the house. Aodh paused in front of a tall, ornate
oak door with harps depicted in the panels. Waving his hand,
the wood panels disappeared, replaced with blown glass, and
then they opened. They entered what looked like a formal
sitting room, with an enormous window that overlooked the
moonlit sea. The ceiling was very high; the corners curved
towards a peak in the center. Aodh started waving his hand,
making all of the furnishings disappear. The large rug rolled
up rapidly and disappeared into oblivion, and the two long
tapestry-covered walls made way for wide, gleaming mirrors.
A long wooden barre slid along the wall, and Ty realised what
Aodh was doing.
“Ah, too high, mate. That’ll reach her head.”
Ty lowered the barre to a height befitting their new queen,

and Aodh spoke lowly, nodding.
“I haven’t spoken to her yet, she’s asleep. When she wakes,

I’m going have yeh come with me. Just, no touching her, mate.”
“No sir, of course. If she doesn’t accept your offer, I can

prevent, you know…until...”
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D. VONTHAER
The dark wood floors gave way to three colours of shining

wood in an intricate star pattern. Aodh gave a worried sigh,
and he cut Ty off before he could finish.
“Stop calling me ‘sir.’ I really don’t like it.”
“Aye, sir. Sorry. Bleedin’ hell, it’s going to take getting used
to.”
Aodh gave him a look, but he was in such a fabulous mood,

nothing could have made it go sour. Except hearing a blood-
curdling scream coming from his bedroom. They looked at
each other for less than a breath when Aodh disappeared
from the center of the room. Ty followed on foot, pounding
his way up the stairs towards the highest level.
Aodh appeared next to Kat, who was panting and pale. He

dropped to the floor to scoop her up in his arms. Her breath
was shallow and sporadic. Ty reached the top step, but an
invisible wall threw him back, sending him down an entire
flight of stairs. Aodh heard the crunch, and waved his hand
annoyed. The gust of wind from his hand caught Ty as he was
scrambling to his feet, and it swept him straight up the stairs
and deposited him across the threshold. Ty grabbed a white
shirt lying near the door, and tossed it to Aodh to cover his
wife. She was sweating, shaking, her face completely devoid of
colour. She was trying to speak, but her voice did not work.
Aodh laid his wedding shirt over her body, wiping her damp
hair from her face.
“Kat? Wot is it?”
Ty stayed at a slight distance, watching her gasp for breath,

heaving and sweating profusely. Katerina shot up, and
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reached out for Aodh, but caught Ty’s hand instead. The
sensation from her sent him to his knees. Her face turned to
him, and their eyes met, piercing each other until Aodh
pulled them apart. Ty fell back, gasping for air, the veins in
his face snaking thickly beneath his skin. Aodh looked at him
like he could strangle the very life from him.
“Aodh, she’s pregnant. She’s already dying.”
Although Katerina couldn’t speak, her large, round eyes said

everything as she turned towards Aodh.
“It’s not from me, she was already pregnant when I entered
the room,” Ty explained with a raspy voice, trying to regain his
breath.
“She only has until midnight, Aodh.”
Fat tears streamed down Katerina’s face, and Aodh carried

her to the bed which was still covered in champagne-soaked
rose petals. The soaked bedding disappeared, and a fresh set
replaced them before he could lie her down. The bed was so
vast, she looked lost in a sea of blankets. Aodh got to his
knees next to the bed, and held her hand. Suddenly, his
usually kind and jovial voice sounded serious, moreso than
Katerina had ever heard.
“Doll, I can make the pain go away. But yeh have to want me
to fix it. I can make yeh one of us, I can make yeh a goddess.
Blimey, yer already a goddess to me. I just need yeh to want it.”
Ty watched, but nothing was happening. Aodh’s face was

looking more disturbed, when he offered again, this time a
tear cresting the corner of his eye.
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D. VONTHAER
“Kat, I can make it better. Yeh just need to want it. I can’t do
it if yeh don’t want it. You will be immortal. Young and
beautiful forever.”
The men watched her, Aodh holding her limp hand in his.
Ty went to the other side of the bed, and tried to help.
“Our Lady, if you don’t ascend, you and your son will die.”
Katerina’s head turned towards Ty, gasping for breath. Aodh

looked up as well, that tear having found Katerina’s hand. He
nodded to them both, and sat on the edge of the bed. Placing
his hand on her stomach, his eyes closed, and he exhaled
deeply.
“Your son, Kat. You and Aodh have made a little boy. Yer
going to be a mum, Katerina.”
Her face turned to her husband, and he kissed her hand,

thick tears falling down her cheeks. The room was eerily still,
even the candles stopped flickering as they awaited her to say
something, give any kind of signal. And like a shot Aodh
stood. Ty left the room promptly, descending the stairs as fast
as his long legs could carry him. Aodh leaned over the bed,
and kissed his wife’s trembling mouth. Taking a deep breath,
he inhaled her pain, taking it inside of him as it travelled from
her body to his. She fell back to her pillow, soundly sleeping.
Faint popping from all over the room let him know the
faeries were in force. Aodh turned to them, Aingeal leading
the pack, her white and gold light shining brightly. Avaryn
fluttered close behind, the microphone slung over her little
body, making her float a foot lower than the rest. Aodh went
to her first, and unravelled the cord from her tiny form.
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Though her face showed no expression, she was pouting

inside. Speaking kindly to her, he held the mic in his hand.
“Avaryn. Fetch Monica Raisi again, and Dru as well if she’s

still with her. When yeh return, I’ll give yeh a room just like Ms.
Raisi’s to sing in, and this thing as well.”
Avaryn beamed, and she nodded enthusiastically. She

disappeared, off to fetch the songstress again, when Aodh
addressed Aingeal.
“Keep her comfortable, it’s going to be a long evening. Yer

prince will be born tonight.”
Aingeal and the others descended upon their queen with a

flurry of tiny wings and voices, ready to do whatever it took to
keep her well.
Aodh threw the microphone to some far-off corner in the

room, and turned back to his wife. His breath was unsteady,
making him sound as if he had asthma. He kissed her once
again, and left her to the care of the faeries. At the front of the
house, he saw Ty awaiting Dru at the water, and went to him.
“I need yeh to talk to Dru, mate. I have something to do, it’s

only minutes to midnight. How well do yeh know her, Ty?”
Ty looked at him, his jaw clenched. He’d like to think he

knew Dru better than anyone.
“As well as anyone can know the person they love, sir. Aodh, I
meant.”
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D. VONTHAER
Aodh ignored the ‘sir’ and spoke rapidly, summoning stacks

of papers to Ty’s hands. Ty’s piercing eyes scanned the papers,
hearing the desperation in Aodh’s voice. Ty nodded silently.
Aodh walked away, a massive club soaring through the air
after Aodh’s outstretched hand as he headed towards the far
off hills. Ty waited, reading the aged documents under the
light of the moon, a heaviness overtaking him with each word.
The waves began to roll away from the beach, and Ty’s heart
pounded under the confines of his chest. Dru and Niki
entered with the faerie, and the waves came crashing back
onto the beach. Niki went straight to Katerina, the faerie at
her shoulder. Ty took Dru by the hand, she was still wearing
her robes from the ceremony. He took her up the beach and
she tried to keep up with his quick pace. They got to the
middle of the beach, and Ty stopped suddenly and turned to
her, speaking before her mouth got the old itch to go first.
“Katerina’s pregnant with a son. She’s accepted Aodh’s offer

to ascend. But, she has to do it before midnight. She’s already
had so much to endure.”
Dru stared in shock, and she shook her head, trying to make
sense of it.
“Well, where’s Aodh gone?”
“To stop time.”
She blinked, confused, and looked back from where they

came, and then to the stack of papers in his hand. She pointed
at them, some of them looking vaguely familiar, “Wot are
those for?”
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“These are from your grandmother’s home. They are your

entire history, before you were even born. This is a letter from
your gran to your mum. She had been invited into Otherworld
to meet with Almha, the druid. She foretold your birth, and of
the events your existence would cause; fire, devastation, war.
Those are the only things your gran heard, at least. She also
told of your spirit, the soul that resides within you. It has
travelled through the ages, living in generations of Bettenfield
women until she found you.”
Dru looked at him blankly, noticing his accent weaving in

and out. Shaking her head, she looked over papers he thrust
into her hand. Dru peered over them, the stern handwriting
so immensely familiar, it made her stomach flop. She read
aloud:
Blessings and Bringings Daughter Daimhin,
The journey has been short, yet eventful. An urgent matter

has arisen and I require your attention. The Druid Almha
came to me with startling news. The daughter you have borne,
according to Almha, has been gifted with the spirit of Derdriu.
Her powers and beauty will be unmatched. She has also
prophesied many disturbing futures for the child. She will be
difficult to control, Daimhin. Keep her away from any and
all visitors. None are welcome until my return. This is no
gift, daughter. This had cursed our family, our entire way of
life. Your child will be the end of us all. Deal with her, or
await my return in silent contemplation, and we will remedy
this problem together.
~Mum
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D. VONTHAER
Ty interrupted, the dark sky acting odd as he spoke.
“They knew, all of those years, Dru. They knew of that fire
Flanagan set, and they refused to change their ways. You were
a pawn. A pawn in a sick game that cost them their lives.”
“She wanted my mum to kill me then, didn’t she?”
Ty ignored her question, and handed her one last piece of

parchment, bearing her name. It was her birth record. She’d
never seen this paper before.
Druantia Dierdre Bettenfield
Tears welled in her striking green eyes, and she looked up to

him, understanding where he was going with this.
“So, I was meant to become a druid?”
“Yes.”
“And now Katerina is with child, and if she doesn’t ascend,

she and the baby will die?”
“Yes.”
Ty gripped her hand as the tears fell down her cheeks. He

knew she understood.
“And, for her to ascend, she needs a sacrifice. A human

sacrifice?”
Ty didn’t answer, he only held her hand as she deduced the

news. She turned to look at the farthest, tallest mountain
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visible to her blurry eyes. A bolt of lightning issued straight

from the moon itself, hitting the figure atop that hill with a
wicked clap.
“I was born to die, wasn’t I? That’s wot this has all meant? I
was born, so she could live?”
Ty didn’t answer. He tried to pull her closer, but she shook

her head and pulled away, still watching Aodh atop that
mountain. She could hear the depth of his voice even from
miles away. A sudden quake in the earth knocked her off her
feet, and Ty caught her. The ground rumbled, making the
water nearby boil. Dru steadied herself once the tremours
settled down, distant sounds of falling rock filling the air.
“She nearly died cos of me, Ty. She took my place in the
desert. It’ll be my honour. Two sisters. One gives birth to the
other, and she in turn gives birth to the first.”
The clouds parted as she spoke, and cracks of lightning lit

their path. Not another word was uttered on the way back to
the palace. As they walked, the stack of papers slowly fell from
Dru’s grasp, and the sea took them away, peeling them from
the sand. Aodh met them in the middle of the beach, and he
snatched her up from the sand.
“Dru, I don’t know wot to say. I can…”
Dru put her finger to Aodh’s lips. Shaking her head, she
hugged him tightly, her warm tears coating his shoulder.
“Just make sure to tell the baby I love him, before the world
ever met him.”
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D. VONTHAER
Aodh gripped her tighter, his hands refusing to let her

down. She sniffed back her tears and patted his arm to be put
down. He didn’t listen, not at first. Time, having the
impatience of a toddler, was ticking, and he sat her down
begrudgingly. Her feet sank into the soft sand, and Aodh went
to his wife.
Niki was holding Katerina’s hand when Aodh walked in. She
was sobbing over her friend, again. Her eyes burned as she
held onto her, not even bothering to wipe her wet face. Aodh
went to the other side of the bed, and paused to listen. The
birds sounded different. They sounded like Niki. He scooped
up Katerina, but Niki wouldn’t let go of her hand, and she
followed around the edge of the bed, refusing to let go.
“Oi, Niki. Stay here. Can’t have yeh step outside the palace,
understood?”
Niki kissed Katerina’s hand and finally let go, nodding, and
following along. Her faerie, Avaryn, stayed by her side, as the
others dispersed throughout the house to prepare for the
birth. Niki stopped at the front door, and Avaryn tugged at
her to follow. They went into Katerina’s newly refurbished
dance studio, where they had a perfect view of everyone on
the sand. Aodh walked out of the house, his white wedding
shirt elongated and wrapped around Katerina’s limp body into
a gauzy gown that swept in wisps in the breeze. Ty and Dru
began undressing each other as Aodh held Kat in his arms.
Their clothes fell to the sand, and Niki watched from the
window.
Avaryn didn’t watch, but instead spun around the room,

answering whatever was asked of her. Niki watched, chewing
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on her nails through the window as Ty and Dru walked hand

in hand into the middle of the water.
“Why are they naked?”
“They need to offer themselves showing no modesty.”
“Well, then why is Katerina clothed?”
“Our queen is pure of heart, body, and soul. It is of respect to

her that she remains so.”
Ty escorted Dru to the center of the sea, and the water

calmed down, looking like black glass under the high, bright
moon. Ty stood before her, his voice caught in his throat as he
reached his hand high into the air. He stroked Dru’s long,
golden hair, and his smooth voice called to the night. A long,
sharp spear of fir flew to his hand, and he caught it, tightly
clenching it into his fist. Dru’s heart-shaped lips trembled,
and he brushed his mouth against them one final time. He
held the wooden stake in his hand, and reached it towards the
sky. Thunder grumbled from the sky, and a single star
winked. It shone on the spike in Ty’s hand, burning the end
white-hot.
“I love you, Peaches.”
Ty plunged the sizzling stake between her breasts, and her

eyes flashed wide. Blood spilt from her body, coating his
hand. It encircled her in the water, and she fell limp in his
arm. He had to let her go. He didn’t want to, but he had to.
Her eyes, once so vividly green, drained of all colour,
abandoning the shades of sage and cerulean until they were
charcoal. She slipped from his arms under the water’s surface,
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D. VONTHAER
a ring of crimson forming in the sea. Ty backed away, his

heart aching.
Aodh walked into the circle, and laid Katerina’s lethargic

form in the blood-tainted water. Barely had she left his grasp,
and the sky opened up for her. A beam of pure-white light hit
her body, and the sea pushed her upwards towards the sky.
The winds whipped ferociously, tearing at the soil, and

lifting trees from the roots. The earth rose with the wind to
meet Katerina’s body high in the air, beyond what the eye
could see. A great circle formed in the sky. Four quadrants cut
into the circle, each representing one of the four elementals.
The wind howled, trying to outdo the rushing water, which
was trying to bathe the dry earth, which in turn was
attempting to cover the heat of the sun. They swirled together
in a mass in the night sky, blocking out the moon entirely,
until everything went quiet and dark.
Inside, Niki was panting, her nails dragging along the

window, looking to see where everyone went.
“Avaryn? Avaryn? Is something wrong? Everything’s black.”
“It is as it should be.”
“What about Dru? Will she come back?”
“One day. Druid souls reincarnate. She will come back as an

infant.”
Niki turned to look at her. “What? You mean she could

become the baby?”
375
“Yes, I suppose she could. She will become as she is meant to

be.”
Niki peeled her eyes from the window to see Avaryn twirling
in the middle of the room, like a fluttering dancer. She
thought this place was like a faerytale, where everything is
perfect and serene. She looked back out of the enormous
window, her hands shaking beyond control.
Katerina sank back to earth, and landed in Aodh’s eagerly

awaiting arms. The trees, some still topped with snow,
shuddered, sending chunks of the fluffy whiteness to the
ground. They stretched their branches towards the sky, trying
to fill out where the winter had left them bare. The spiky cold
grass pushed from the frozen earth, covering the dark spots
around the land in bright greenery. The sky erased the thin,
silvery wisps of clouds from the star-strewn sky, leaving the
night calm and cool, and rather beautiful.
Katerina’s eyes peeped open, her very long chestnut hair

silkier than ever, falling down to the rippling water. Aodh
looked down at her, the waves rolling happily, trying to get
the first touch of the new goddess. Ty was back on the beach,
and looked at the abandoned pile of clothes. His eyes caught a
glimpse of Niki staring from the window of Katerina’s dance
studio. Their eyes met, briefly. Niki couldn’t help but scan his
exposed body, her warm breath steaming the window. Ty
waved his hand over the clothing and it appeared back on his
body. Aodh carried Katerina from the water towards Ty and
Niki quickly turned away from the window. Ty gave their King
his full, albeit heart-heavy attention. Aodh laid his wife to Ty’s
saddened arms.
“Take her upstairs. I’ll be there shortly.”

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D. VONTHAER
Katerina looked at them both and squirmed, trying to speak

over them with little notice.
“I can walk myself. I can walk, Aodh, I can really.”
“I won’t hear of it. Carry her, do not let her feet touch ground,
Ty.”
Ty nodded and dutifully carried her up the beach and into

the house. Niki met them in the hallway, her face coated with
tears. She skidded and almost fell backwards when she saw
Ty. She stayed a few paces behind them as they climbed the
stairs to the top floor, where Ty laid Katerina carefully to her
bed, his hands stained with Dru’s sacrificial blood. Katerina
saw his hands, and gasped, and took them into her hands. He
tried to pull back, but she held him there, her big brown eyes
looking to him, questioning.
“Ty? Vot happened? Eez this blood? Where eez Dru?”
He pulled his hands back, and covered her with a blanket as

a voice came from the door.
“She’s dead. She died for you, honey.”
Niki stood by the door, and Ty shot her a look. He stood

back up and walked towards the door, making Niki scoot far
out of the way so as not to touch him.
“Ty come back! Eez that true?”
Ty turned at the doorway and nodded. Giving a bow, his

voice, which was already somewhat deep, sounding like he
had something stuck in his throat.
377
“She died knowingly and honoured. Your life is above all ours,
and we all would die for your survival. Get your rest, milady.”
“Ty, come back here, don’t leave. Vot eez.. Oy, Come back!”
Ty turned, and went back to the bed, as she had instructed.

He couldn’t really ignore a direct order from her, now. He
stood dutifully by the bed, and Kat sat up. Niki crept further
to the opposite side of the room. Had she gone any further,
she’d end up inside a wardrobe.
“Come closer, Ty. I cannot reach.”
Kat pulled at Ty’s hand, making him bend down. She slid
her arms around his neck, tears falling down her face. She
hugged him tightly, and he lingered there, fighting back a
knot in his throat. Aodh walked into the room, his deep and
husky voice making Ty stand back up at attention.
“Go to yer room and get some rest, mate.”
“If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d rather go to my own home
tonight.”
Aodh walked to him, and looked down. Even though Ty was

tall by his own right, Aodh shadowed him in both height and
girth. His hand on Ty’s shoulder, Ty winced, preparing for
Aodh to clap down on him as hard as usual, but he did not.
“Ty. It isn’t all the same to me. I want yeh here tonight,
mate.”
Ty nodded. He’d do as was he was asked, for now. He left

the room, and went down to the main floor, wondering if he
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D. VONTHAER
could just drink himself into a stupor. He was back only a

short time, and he had spent all of that time in silence with
her. He never got to tell Dru all of things he kept hidden deep
inside. The things he would have said had he been a more
open man. Things he’d never get to tell her now she was gone.
Aodh went to Katerina, and Niki finally peeled herself from

the other side of the room. They each held one of Kat’s hands,
and Niki had to do a double take. Katerina’s belly was already
swelling. Katerina had the same thought as she voiced what
she overheard before.
“Aodh? He will really be born tonight?”
Aodh looked to the women, nodding proudly.
“Aye. The sun will not rise for nine months. It won’t feel like
nine moons, exactly. Time doesn’t operate here the same as it
does in the mortal plane. But, I believe that’s a conversation for
another time.”
The girls looked to each other, baffled. History, as he knew

it to be, had a way of repeating itself. Aodh summoned a pair
of chairs to sit on either side of the bed. He sat in one, but
Niki remained standing. Katerina was glowing, that true glow
everyone always talks about when a woman is expecting a
child. She had that luminescence about her. Suddenly, Niki
felt like she was intruding. She kissed Katerina’s head, and
stepped away.
“I think I’m going to have Avaryn help me set up a room for

the baby. Is that okay?”
379
Together, Katerina and Aodh nodded to her with a smile,

and Niki left their bedroom to go explore the house.
Katerina’s voice was melancholy once Niki left.
“Aodh. Vot about Dru? Niki says she died....For me?”
Aodh laid his hand gently on Katerina’s ever expanding

belly, and tried to make her understand.
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Chapter 23
Birth of a Prince
Aodh sat next to Katerina, smoothing his hand over her

skin, his breath finally normal. The songbird’s soft melody
filled their room, bathing them in serenity. Katerina’s flat
tummy expanded rapidly; and Aodh had to be told repeatedly
not to crush her belly as his hands didn’t want to part with
her. The moon refused to move until Aodh directed it to,
leaving the land dark, with a few shades of silvery blue
slipping over the moonlit hilltops and glassy sea. The mood
remained quite somber, even with the impending birth.
“Yer second name is Brigid? Never told me that.”
“Da. Eet vos my mother’s name. Oh!”
Her belly heaved, and she took one of Aodh’s massive hands
to it. The baby moved so much, it felt like having a little
dancer inside of her, wanting to rehearse. His face lit up, and
he leaned in to kiss her as the baby moved around, kicking
381
fiercely. Aodh put his face to her stomach, feeling the baby
rolling around inside, until it gave one hard, noticeable kick
to Aodh’s face. He sat up abruptly, Katerina smiling softly.
“Blimey, doesn’t that hurt?”
Katerina shook her head.
“Nyet. Eet feels, amazing.”
“Da huh? That means ‘yes’ in Russian?”
Katerina nodded, and laid her head back to watch her belly
dance.
“That’s wot we use for father. Kid’s going to learn quite a bit
eh? I mean, about things outside of this world, not like when I
was a lad.”
Katerina asked a question, fighting back a fit of much-

needed laughter.
“And, when was that, Aodh? How old are you, exactly?”
Aodh gave her a look, and she laughed hysterically. The

sound of it perked the ears of the world, coating the dismal
feeling with a soft blanket of joy.
“Oi, I’m not an old man! Not yet at any rate. Can’t help yer
still a spring chicken.”
He got into the bed with her, and she laid on his thick chest,
holding her belly. Her eyes grew heavy as he rubbed her arm
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D. VONTHAER
softly, and she mumbled sleepily.
“Well, we will get to grow old together.”
Aodh held her snugly as she drifted into sleep. He watched

her belly move, their son stretching and playing inside his
mum’s womb. He thought of his best mate’s sacrifice to bring
him here, what she was willing to leave behind for his son to
know life. A vase of daisies sat on one of the bedside tables
and couldn’t help but think of Dru, missing her.
On the main level of the house, Ty sat by a fireplace in one

of the rustic parlors, drinking heavily. A glass in his hand
refilled consistently as he gazed blankly into the flames. His
throat burned as he downed each of them quickly, and not
simply from the whiskey. The small fire flickered, trying to
offer some kind of warmth, but there could be no such thing
as he was concerned. Had he brought it upon himself? Had he
done as he was meant to do, would the end have been the
same? Had he done as he was meant to, could he be sitting
with a tiny, green-eyed goddess in his lap, reminding him of
her mum? Dru’s soul would be residing in the body of an
infant now, and he tormented himself on the very thought.
Would her laugh be the same? Would it be loud and
infectious? Would she scrunch her nose and stick out her
tongue at something that she shouldn’t find amusing? He
chuckled aloud, and wiped his eyes, annoyed by the tears
coming.
He tossed his head back in the chair, and heard a noise

behind him. Ty stood as quickly as he could considering his
chest felt like it was holding stone, making Niki jump.
383
“Sorry. I saw the glow coming from the door. I was just
walking around. I’ll leave you alone.”
Ty just nodded and turned towards the fire, his glass

refilling once more with thick amber liquid. Niki didn’t leave.
She turned around again and talked to him, though his back
was to her.
“I’m sorry about what I said before. I know it came out wrong.
I’m not really that insensitive. I just kind of blurt things out
sometimes, and I don’t mean to.”
Ty downed his glass at once, and a sort of grumble came

from his throat, his eyes blurrily watching the jumping,
playful fire.
“I know, erm, knew someone who had a bit of the same

problem.”
Niki stood by the door, a tear finding her cheek. Ty turned

at the silence, wondering if she walked away. They stood
awkwardly facing one another in the stone-walled room, until
Ty invited her in with a somber voice, “Have a drink. I promise
I won’t touch you. It’s not my idea of a laugh.”
Niki plucked herself from the door frame and walked to the
fireplace, avoiding Ty like the plague. She went around the far
right, and waited for him to sit in his large, dark chair before
she sat in it’s partner on the other side. He placed a short
glass of whiskey on the table for her, and conjured a cigarette.
He never smoked, but for some reason, this body craved it on
occasion. And on a night such as this, he craved so many
things, he couldn’t even count them. Niki took the glass
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D. VONTHAER
quietly, attempting to find words, when she gave him a hard

look.
“Hey, you look kind of familiar.”
Ty pulled the cigarette from his mouth and looked at her

with a straight, expressionless face, his tone matching his
unmoved features.
“Do I?”
Niki brought up the glass, and Ty offered her a warning,

“Don’t take too much. It’s not mortal liquor.”
Niki nodded and took a small sip, making a noise when the
drink hit her throat. Sucking air through her teeth, she
nodded away the burning sensation.
“It’s okay, Aodh told me already. But, yeah. You look a little
bit familiar. I can’t think where from, though. Maybe if your
hair was shorter?”
Ty smoked quietly, and ran his hand through his dark

brown hair. The top was a little long now, it often fell into his
eyes. He remained quiet, as he so often did, thinking.
“Why did Aodh say the baby would be born in one night? I
don’t get it.”
“Gods can’t impregnate human women. No, Strike that. They

can, but they shouldn’t. It will kill them in less than a day. The
power within the womb is too great for a mortal. Usually, the
women die before they ever know they’re with child. But
goddesses can mate with human men, it’s not the same. Still,
385
they shouldn’t. Aodh’s held back time, so Katerina can carry to

full term. Sort of tricking Mother Nature.”
“How many kids do you have, Ty? I mean, do you even know?”
“None. I’ve never fathered a child.”
Niki gave him a look of surprise and drank more as Ty put

out his cigarette in the empty bottle. The bottle vanished, and
was replaced by another, which made Niki arch a brow. She
didn’t know him, but she knew the road he was travelling on
very well. Ty poured another healthy measure, and sank back
into the chair. Niki started asking questions, wondering if it
would keep his mouth busy on something other than the
booze and heartache.
“So, you never touched a human girl? You would know?”
“No, I never touched a mortal girl, and yes I would know.

Before Samhain, I only spent time in the mortal world if I was
seeing Dru at her cottage.”
“Oh, so you two never? Were you dating? Or is it just the

touch? I’m trying to understand the way it works.”
Ty finished off yet another glass and his head lowered for a
moment. He conjured a full pack of cigarettes this time. He
looked at it as a wash of memories took over; sounds of waves
crashing on a rocky beach, the smell of lavender and the feel
of cream skin. The tip lit when he put it to his mouth, the
smoke clouding in front of his face. He sat the box down on
the table, and Niki eyed it. He nodded, and she took one out.
Ty leaned over, not close enough to touch her, but still close
enough to make her back away into her chair. He blew
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D. VONTHAER
towards her mouth, and the end of the fag lit up, burning
orange. Ty’s accent got as thick as his voice.
“It only affects truly mortal, human women if I touch them.

Dru and I had a relationship, for a time. But then, she wasn’t a
mortal woman at birth. She was born a witch. I can prevent
birth as easily as I can promote it. And I prevented it, then.”
The smoke and whiskey made Niki’s head start to sway, her
speech mildly slurring.
“You’re the god of, what? Pregnancy? If you get them

pregnant, they’ll die too?”
“Fertility and war. I am both life and death, the beginning,

and the end. Usually, it’s the war bit I spend the majority of my
life on. We’re not like the Greeks. All of us have more than one
specialty. It can go either way with me, I decide.”
“What will Katerina be?”
Ty twirled the last of his drink before answering, his speech

slow, calculating.
“However nature sees her. Aodh will know first.”
Niki hiccuped quietly, her head swirling. Her mouth spoke

before her brain could gain control.
“So, now there’s no more women for you? How’re you

supposed to ever find a wife? If she’ll die from getting pregnant,
I mean. There’s no one else to sacrifice, and…”
387
Niki abruptly stopped speaking. She could see the look on

his face change. He was clenching his jaw, and the glass in his
hand was cracking under his tight grasp. He put out the
cigarette and stood.
“I’m not looking. Goodnight.”
Niki’s mouth opened like she was going to say something,

but Ty left before she could dig herself into a deeper hole.
Ty walked the massive, ancient house, bottle in hand,

occasionally pausing by one of the windows. The was moon
perched at the same spot it had been the last time he’d seen
her eyes. He went to his appointed bedroom that he’d shared
with Dru when they could no longer find words. He stood at
the door, unable to open it. He knew it would smell like her.
It would look like her. Each day he’d watch her peel away her
clothes, acting as if he wasn’t noticing. Yet, he noticed
everything. How she walked, how many times she brushed
her hair before she went to sleep. He even took note of how
many turns she took in the mirror before leaving.
He finished off the bottle, and rubbed his face roughly, the
stubble on his face thick. Normally this time of night, he’d
slide behind Dru in the tub to wash her hair. She’d turn
around and shave his face with a straight razor, not speaking
a single word. He cursed himself for all the time he allowed to
pass in silence. He thought of those marks blemishing her
skin. They were etched in his memory, burning his mind. He
could hear his teeth crack from clenching his jaw too tight.
He closed his eyes and opened the door, her scent
immediately smacking him in the face. He closed the door,
and fell back to it, breathing in her memory. He rubbed his
face again, the scent of her blood still on his hands. He
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D. VONTHAER
stripped off his clothes, letting them puddle around his feet
with the now empty bottle. His eyes closed before he fell into
the emerald and amethyst coloured bed.
His sleep was fraught with wrenching, vivid dreams. Though

his body lay completely still, his mind couldn’t quit spinning.
He welcomed them, each one more detailed than the next.
Each was of her, of their time together; days spent on her
beach, nights spent by a fire, his life’s dream reflected in every
single stripe of green in her eyes.
Dawn crept into Otherworld, breaking through the darkness

that had bathed the land longer than any other time in it’s
history. The sun gave much needed light and warmth to every
living thing. A murmur started to swell in the house, cutting
through the quiet that had left every heart dull and lifeless as
they awaited the birth of the prince.
Ty didn’t want to wake. He could still feel her, even through

his drunken haze. He could smell her hair, and feel the
softness of her skin. He didn’t want to lose those memories.
He couldn’t lose those memories. As much pain as it was to
know she was gone, the pain of forgetting even a single,
solitary breath was unacceptable.
He dreamt of her arms pulling him close, wrapping around

his body as they lay together, even though it was usually his
arms wrapped around her. Her hair would cover his face as he
buried his nose into that soft, wild mane of gold. But, he
couldn’t feel her hair tickle his nose. Just her hands wrapped
around him, holding him steady, as he had done with her
each and every night. He dreamt of pulling her hand to his
lips, and that sweet and flowery scent was so strong, he
moved in his slumber. He rubbed his face with her hand in his
389
dream, and he suddenly realised how rough he felt next to

her.
She was pulling away. He tried to keep her hand there,

against his mouth, but she was pulling away from him. Her
hand slipped down his unclothed body, and rested on his leg.
His hand followed hers, trying to bring her back. She was
letting go. She was, after all, a butterfly. Not to be kept, by
anyone, not even in death. He moved in his sleep, and made a
deep, growling sound.
Why couldn’t she just stay and haunt him? He’d welcome
her as a ghost. As it was, she would forever be the ghost of his
soul. Her hand moved, and he couldn’t feel her anymore. He
reached out in his dream and in his bed, and called for her.
“Dru! Don’t. Oi! Come back!”
Then he saw her face. She was glowing, even more than
usual. The sun seemed to pick her as a favourite champion of
light as she brought her face close to his. She looked blurry,
faded, but more lovely than ever. He tried to smooth her
mane of hair from her face, but his arms felt like lead.
“Don’t go.”
She bent to him, her heart-shaped lips soft as petals

caressed his mouth, and his head felt lighter than ever. Even
the drink he’d endured the evening before didn’t give him
such a feeling of an utopian dream. His mind was
unencumbered by worry; clean, clear, happy. He could feel
her hair in his face now, feathery and light as she kissed him,
sending his mind into a bliss he’d never known. She started to
390
D. VONTHAER
pull away again, and he tried to hold her there; her sweet
laugh echoing in the quiet room.
“Ty, I’m here.”
He gazed back at the face, the beautiful face that was

haunting him, and he slid both of his hands into her thick
waves of gold. Bringing her lips back to his, his head swam
again, feeling light and clear as crystal, not a single thought
penetrating the stillness. Every sound paused, freezing in time
and space as he lingered there with her lips.
“Ty.”
He heard her voice again, and felt her breath coating his
face, his eyes attempting to blink open. Her hands slid up his
bare chest to his neck, holding his aching jaw between her
hands. He could feel her straddling him, her skin far softer
than his own.
“Peaches?”
“Mhm.”
Ty’s dark and piercing eyes opened wide, and he suddenly

felt like he’d been injected with a stimulant, like he’d never
had a drink at all. He cupped her face and brought her close,
wondering if he was still in dream. He could feel her and see
her. If this was a dream, he damned the notion of waking. Her
hands traced over him, he could feel her fingertips dip into
his shoulders and run over his face. He brought her lips back
to his hungrily, not wanting to part them, and he wrapped
one arm around her cinched waist as his other hand held fast
to her face, afraid she’d disappear again. His hand slid all over
391
her body, wanting to see if it matched the map in his mind.

She felt warm as she sat on him, a warmth that grew to a
radiating heat, making his hand leave her face so he could
grip her curved hips. She was rolling against him, teasing him
with her warming body. She pulled her lips from his, allowing
his mind to think properly again.
He dragged her body up, his mouth suckling each fleshy

inch he could take. His hands squeezed her, still unsure if
she’d simply disappear. His mouth camped at her full breast,
and he heard her moan, fueling him further to believe this
was real. She was real. She was here, and he was playing his
tongue over her until she twitched. He pulled her up further,
and saw the small butterfly tattoo living low on her stomach.
His teeth scraped against it as he sucked on her skin, his
hands keeping her firmly in place so she couldn’t vanish.
Further he brought her body up until he was directly under
her, and he plunged his mouth into her, tasting the woman he
knew better than any, tasting her like a starving man would
devour a fresh peach.
Dru was holding herself steady against the headboard, her

hips moving with Ty’s mouth. Her forehead rested against the
headboard, then she looked down, their eyes meeting as her
body rolled in waves. Her nails scraped against the cloth
headboard, puncturing the fabric as she tore at it, her voice
louder and louder, her eyes losing focus. Her head reared
back, letting her very long hair tickle his body, and she took
her hand along him, stroking every thick, long inch, making
him growl under her.
He smirked as he flicked his tongue into her. Her right leg

started to tremble, as it always had, the first sign she was
about to lose all control. His body reacted to her touch, trying
392
D. VONTHAER
to convince him to stop for it’s own sweet taste. The entire
right side of her body began to tremour, and she ran her hand
along him firmly, making him throb harder as her voice
boomed. His tongue moved slower as she tensed around it,
drinking her in, thinking if this was a dream, she never tasted
so bloody real.
Dru looked down at Ty, and he flipped her limp body,

sending her to her back. She devoured his kiss again, and his
hands slid all over her. He moved her over to her stomach, his
mouth taking to her back, sending chills over her skin.
Creeping down, he saw a butterfly etched onto the lowest part
of her back. He traced it with his finger, and brushed his lips
over it, feeling a flutter against his mouth as he did so. Her
head turned to him, and he laid over her, his knees digging
into the soft bedding. She looked like a pearl again, only now
sitting for display in a jewel box against the richly coloured
bed. She got to her knees, his mouth finding her neck as she
ran her hands into his thicket of hair. Ty slid his legs under
her, and flung his feet off the bed. Her knees still on the bed,
she rolled her body against him, teasing, tormenting, his lips
playing with her shoulder and neck until finally she lowered
herself onto him.
They moaned heavily, and he gripped her wide hips firmly,

as she moved her body on his. One hand dipped low on her
stomach, feeling their bodies connect, toying with her tender
flesh as he rocked his hips in tandem with hers. His eyes went
to her hips, watching them move, her skin bounce, the wings
of her butterfly alive, and fluttering. The pace grew harder as
the heat between them intensified, and he couldn’t peel his
eyes away from her tattoo, and how it danced. That is, until
she spoke.
393
“Ty.”
Hearing her say his name made his hips buck even harder.
He was imagining her soft, bubblegum tongue separating
from it’s bed to touch the smooth palate, her lips parting to
allow her voice to carry over her throat for her to say the
short, single syllable with her sweet tone. He pulled her head
back further, twisting her dampening hair into his fist, his
other hand still lingering low on her stomach. Her lips to his,
that same feeling of empty, yet full bliss swirled his head, and
she spoke again.
“I love you.”
Ty paused, and she peeled her mouth away, breathless. He

drew her around to face him, and tossed her back onto the
bed. He leaned over her, his face dripping sweat onto hers.
She said it. She said those words.
“I love you, Peaches. I have, always. I never stopped. Not for

even a moment.”
Burying his lips to hers, he pulled her knee up as she hooked

her other leg high onto his back as they continued to make
manic love. Their sweat pooled onto the sheets and blankets
when a high pitched voice chimed into the room. Thick, full
hydrangeas rained from the ceiling, sticking to their damp
bodies and falling to the floor in heaps.
“Your presence is requested in the garden at high noon to

welcome your Prince.”
Ty and Dru pried themselves away and looked at each other.

A clock tolled, and they twisted their heads around, to find it
394
D. VONTHAER
was quarter to noon. Ty buried his face into Dru’s shoulder,

and she went to kiss his mouth, but he shook his head.
“I have to be able to walk. Can’t even fucking think when yer

snogging me. Come on.”
Dru snorted a laugh, and Ty picked her up from their bed, a

large stain of sweat covering the bedding. Dru in his arms, he
went to the door, and opened it carefully. Peeking out, the
hallway seemed to be clear. He carried her up the stairs as fast
as he could to the top floor. Dru kept kissing his neck, making
him groan as they went through the house completely nude
and sticky wet. They reached the top floor, and he shushed
her as Dru started to shake her head in protest.
There weren’t any sounds, and Ty tried his toe over the line
of the top stair. It still allowed him in. He carefully carried
Dru up, and it allowed her in as well. Creeping to the door, he
listened, not a sound to be heard. No coos or cries, or even
snores. He opened the door and poked his head in, relieved to
find the bedroom empty. His girl in his arms, Ty carried her
through Aodh’s bedroom suite, and to the loo.
Ty’s feet slapped along the tile until it turned to an outdoor

path, and the rush of a waterfall called to their ears. Dru
gasped at first sight of it. Birds were chirping, and trees
tucked into a hillside swayed with a faint breeze. A lagoon
filled with fresh water rippled, calling to their hot and sticking
bodies. He smirked at her, and offered a warning.
“Shh. Don’t yeh dare tell him. He’ll kill me. Or castrate me,
then kill me after.”
395
Ty carried Dru into the warm water and they waded

through until they came upon a powdery beach. It glistened
and sparkled merrily, and Ty laid Dru’s wet, beautiful body
back into it. It coated her skin and hair, and she rolled him to
his back. Slipping down, she took him into her mouth, and his
mind, which had been perfectly functioning a moment before,
suddenly felt more bizarre than ever. His eyes closed as he felt
her tongue flick over him, and then sliding mouth far down,
and back up, slipping her velvety tongue over each throbbing
inch.
Her hair looked like it was coated in miniature diamonds,

and he could explode at any given moment. She pulled her
lips from him for a brief moment, and he flipped her to her
back whilst his head working properly. He lowered himself
over her, his hands sinking deep into the sand and he sank
deep into her with a groan. Her legs went around his waist,
locking as tight as she felt. The sand spread over them as they
moved with each other, time ticking away. Bits of glimmering
sand poured over their bodies, and he felt something hot burn
his hand. Ty rolled onto his back, and Dru went with him,
allowing his eyes to feast on her wickedly curved body coated
with diamond sand.
She leaned forward to take his hands over his head, where
they locked together, and he felt a burning sensation in the
sand again. Once more he rolled her to her back, and she
playfully bit into his neck, more sand coating them, and
melting with their heat. He pinned her knee to her shoulder,
and it caught his attention. Her leg was clean and free of the
scars. He felt her start to contract against him, her voice was
shaky, breathless, gasping.
“Oh my…god.”
396
D. VONTHAER
Ty smirked and went harder, and higher, responding the

only way he knew how.
“That’s right, I am yer god.”
The water became as restless as their bodies, bubbling,

rising to the beach to splash his feet. The waves climbed
higher and harder, mimicking their rhythm, and again that
searing heat scorched his hand. This time he didn’t move, he
couldn’t. Dru’s thighs tightened around him like a vice, and
the pressure that had been building in his gut was not to be
contained for a moment longer. Dru’s voice drove away the
serenity of the lagoon, and he could feel her quake against
him. Taking his mouth to her trembling lips, that
mountainous pressure gave way, and he moaned deep and
low into her mouth as the waves came crashing down onto
their diamond-dust covered bodies.
The burning on his hand got white-hot, but he couldn’t

move, even though the water of the lagoon was warning them
both to go. A huge wave crashed with a warning, and then
peeled away from the beach. Ty opened his eyes to see
something uncovered by the glittery sand. It was burning hot,
but he plucked it out of the shimmery sand regardless.
Dru could hardly breathe. Her legs were twisted around Ty’s
incredibly fit body, afraid she’d melt into the sand if she
relinquished her grip. She looked to see what he was holding,
her eyes blinking the water out, unbelieving. Ty held the
object tenderly in his hand as it cooled down. A ring, with a
gleaming yellow stone that matched the shade of her hair, in
an ancient setting sat between his fingers. His thick hair was
dripping water onto her flushed face. Pushing himself up, he
held the ring in front of her face.
397
“I planned to give you this on Samhain. But then, I heard the

call, and lost my nerve. I’ll never lose it again. I’ll never lose you
again. Marry me, and be mine. I’m already yours. Always have
been.”
Dru shed happy tears, and she nodded, unable to find her
voice as Ty slipped the ring onto her shaky finger. He bent
down to kiss her, and she spoke through their kiss, “Yes, I’m
yours. All yours.”
The waves pounded upon them, and carried their

intertwined bodies out to the water. They were submerged as
the water pushed them to the opposite side of the lagoon,
spitting them out towards the door. Dru coughed up water, as
Ty tried to move her hair from her face, unable to stop the
smile that had permanently etched itself onto his face. He
pulled her out towards the door, and she reached out for
some towels to attempt to dry off.
“We’re going to be late, only seconds to go,” Ty said as he

stopped just beyond the door into Aodh and Katerina’s
bedroom. He placed his hand on Dru’s head, and her hair
dried immediately, but looked like a huge, golden puffball.
She gave him a look, and he summoned clothes, but before he
could hand her some, she had dressed herself.
He looked taken aback. She shouldn’t be able to summon

clothes as a druid, not in the Dagda’s palace. He flipped his
wet hair out of his face and went to the bedside table, where
he took a pair of daisies from the vase. Ty went to her and slid
the daisies into her wild hair. The clocks sounded, and he
grabbed her hand and tugged her out of the bedroom and
down the stairs. Together, they ran through the entire palace,
skidding to a halt just as they approached the garden doors.
398
D. VONTHAER
The chime gave it’s final sound, and Ty opened the door for
Dru. She walked into a heavily decorated garden, boasting
throngs of ribbons and flowers. Ty followed, and took her
hand in his, the ring still warm on his skin.
Katerina sat in one of a pair of tall, ornate chairs at the end

of the garden, a blue bundle snugly resting in her arms. Ty
walked through the heavily laden flowers with Dru at his side,
and Niki positively jumped at first sight of them. Though, this
time, he wasn’t sure if he was responsible for her reaction, or
if it was the sight of Dru. A hard, heavy hand pounded onto
his shoulder, and Ty turned around to see Aodh giving him a
look.
“Didn’t think I’d just let her go that easily, did yeh mate?”
Aodh took Dru, and Ty had difficulty letting go of her hand.

Aodh hugged Dru tightly, and stroked her nose with his finger
as she grinned back. He looked at the glimmering rock on her
hand, and gave Ty a menacing look and said, “We’ll be having
a chat later, you and me, mate.”
Dru rolled her eyes, and Aodh left them to walk through the
winding path of flowering shrubs, the explosion of noise and
fanfare, and eagerly awaiting faeries. He stood in front of the
chairs, and turned to help Katerina stand. He looked out to
the small gathering of friends and faeries, his family. Glasses
of bubbling drink landed in each of their hands. Even the
faeries had tiny glasses, Avaryn could be seen bouncing so
hard, her drink spilled over the edge of her glass. Everyone
calmed down as Aodh held his glass high and spoke.
“No journey is complete without a friend to guide yer way, a

love to find, and a history to follow. We’ve all found each other,
399
and in turn we are, divine, faerie and human alike, family.

Never, in my very many years, have I witnessed such strength,
courage, and above all dedication, to our world, Otherworld.
For this, yeh will never be forgotten.”
Everyone drank after Aodh held the glass outward, except

Ty. Instead, he took his lips to Dru’s, her face showing signs of
impending tears once again as Aodh continued.
“Avalon shall flourish, only the strong shall survive, so the

prophecy goes. With the great help of Ty, God of War and
Fertility, and Dru, Goddess of Passion, it is my honour and
pleasure to present our queen. Katerina. Goddess of Beauty and
Inspiration.”
Roars of cheers filled the garden, as more tears fell from the
women, who could barely keep their collective composure.
Aodh sat his glass on a floating tray and turned to his wife. He
slipped his hand under the bundle in her arms, not really
needing both to hold him, but wanting to securely carry him
nonetheless. His thick fingers unwrapped the soft blue
blanket revealing a fresh, soft little face, sound asleep. The
faeries fluttered around, unable to contain themselves. Aodh
stroked his son’s cheek, coaxing the baby to wake as Katerina
looked on closely.
“The Prince of Avalon.”
Katerina’s small voice piped in under Aodh’s loud,

boisterous tone.
“Our son, Aodh.”
400
D. VONTHAER
He looked down to her and nodded, a great crevice sinking

into his cheek as they spoke in unison.
“Bodb Maxim.”
A wave of applause rocked the land from the garden to the

sea, filling each and every crevice with resounding joy. Aodh
looked to his wife, and laid the baby back to her impatiently
awaiting arms as the baby tried to open his sleepy lids. A tuft
of brown hair stuck out from under his wrapping, and he
finally decided to open his curious, vivid green eyes to the
paradise he was born into. His world, Otherworld.
401
Dayna was born July 31, 1976 to German/Irish parents in
Niles, Ohio. Also the birthplace of a U.S. President, Niles’
small-town charm and history nurtured a young girl's vivid
imagination. At age twelve, she moved to Maryland where she
got her thirst for travel and a different way of life. During this
time, she wrote extensively in diaries. It would be these
journals that would later remind Dayna of her passion,
inspiring her to complete the first Tuatha book.
In 2003, Dayna and her husband welcomed their third child

into the world and an entirely new woman was born with the
arrival of her little girl. Her writing came to the forefront
again, as if the birth of her daughter had stirred up the
dormant pot of her creativity. Grabbing any free moment
possible, she wrote into the late hours of the night, creating
stories and characters saved in blogs and notebooks. At age
twenty-nine, feeling the need to do one thing for herself
before hitting thirty, she took a trip to London. Having loved
it so much, her husband encouraged her to go a second time.
It was during this trip that she met inspiration at Sunday
dinner with friends.
The following years took Dayna and her family to the UK,
New England, and the American south where she continued
her research and the hefty task of not only writing a novel,
but finishing it. The first in the Tuatha series debuted
October 31, 2009.
Other upcoming titles by D. VonThaer include:
Tuatha: Serpentine Souls: Autumn 2010

Blue Moon//RISING: TBA
Dragoste: Release TBA
Domneasca: Release TBA
www.dvonthaer.com
www.basedpress.com

Tuatha and The Seven Sisters Moon

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For Bella, Alec, Stefan, and Eric.

Safe, at home base.

Copyright © 2009 by D. VonThaer

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, in

Cover and Interior Design by D. VonThaer

Printed in the United States of America

Thorns give warning to those foolish enough to attempt to pick her

Nightmares and Butterflies

Paper-mâché butterflies fluttered on long strands of string

screamed with force, shattering the mirror that revealed the

The glass shot out of the frame, spinning towards her

The break-neck pace halted. Everything slowed, leaving the

Her fair skin bubbled beneath the surface. Like an artist

Once more, it sped up, so fast it was difficult to see exactly

She was in the centre of a fiery ring. Women and children

A hard gust of breath crossed heart-shaped lips, and Dru

The patchwork pillow lying on the floor still had an indent

Costumed partiers were making a racket outside, smashing

Trying to snap herself awake, she went through her cottage

fireplace, her droopy eyes scanned the framed photos lining

The Russian Imperial Ballet Company

Katerina opened the door fully to allow her guests to step

“I know who they are, Masha. Go. Honestly.”

A long vanity covered in hundreds of tubes of lipstick,

"Welcome. Come in please. Please forgive zee mess. Eez mad

Gesturing to her guests to sit, her hands trembled with

Brief moments such as these were what she lived for;

Katerina opened it to find her stage manager looking harassed

Katerina spoke in her broken English as she was being laced

Katerina winced as the laces were being tightened. Each

The look on Monica’s face made Katerina fearful that she

“Thank you. Thank you for coming. Please wait just a

Throwing on the coat, she hustled down the street, thankful

company turning a blind eye as always that she was simply

She reached the metro station, and again looked to her

Keeping her head low so as to cover her face, she prayed a

and looked again at her watch.

As she sat, an announcement came, “Last call! Train to Lille,

He called out for people to make room as the train lurched

She took a handful of tissues and wiped her trembling lips.

Taking one to her face, she scrubbed it with pure anger.

Quickly, she brushed her long, chocolate hair to free it from

upside down and brushed it all forward. She trimmed more

They would be finding out. Now. Staring at her reflection,

‘I certainly will not be recognised right away. I can hardly

Just then an announcement came over the speaker. A kind

She belched several times before feeling content. Katerina

She shocked herself by her outburst, but stepped back out

‘Ladies and gentleman. We will be arriving in Lille in just a

Her heart sank. She had forgotten a passport. Well, she

Katerina folded into the rush of people, which quickly

Then, a booming voice came over the loudspeaker, echoing

The announcement continued, ‘The following trains will

Making a last minute decision yet again, she sprinted to

She couldn't stop thinking about the train station.

Sneaking to the back, trying not to be seen, she wrapped her

Quietly, she stepped into the main house, making sure it

She sat around for a while, sort of blinking into nothingness

Dancer Missing, Feared Dead

Prima Ballerina Katerina Maximova disappeared from the

Authorities say her entourage have been uncooperative and