Chapter 14 - In Nemain’s Shadow

Early Evening, November 5th, 2007 - Harborview Hospital

Oi, mother mary and by the saints in heaven, please God grant me the strength to not murder an American journalist. Her anger rippled off her form as she stalked down a side alley to break away from the pack following her. One was holding a KONG labeled speaker another a KING-5 one. From only a day in the city of Seattle, she'd easily identified the major local news outlets via a few cursory minutes watching her hotel's Television. Even as she ducked further into the alley she could hear a few of them scrambling to figure out where she went. The alley trick was not likely going to work, but as they drew closer she heard the sound of, "DPA, desist or you will face federal charges."

"You can't silence the truth?" said one voice which she guessed was a reporter, and a third yelled something about government overreach. Yeah, course you say that. But when there's stuff like Humanity First bullshit, ye dun care. A regional news outlet up north had reported on the death of a prominent community figure a few counties north of Seattle. Turned out the bastard was also a bigwig in the local H1st chapter and got his arse handed to him. She canted her head as her handler for her trip to America appeared. One Agent Jimenez, and his partner, Agent Fanous, was always at her side to some point.

The tall sepia skinned woman reeked of professionalism, and even when she was cracking a joke at her partner, she rarely showed anything beyond a light smile. Her long black hair was usually tied in a bun at the base of her neck while a Coptic cross hung around her neck. Even as she moved the woman's energy screamed federal agent. Her steps were poised like a runway model and her face was always set in a mask of detached impartiality. To her, Maeve was part of the job, and in her tailored grey suit, she was here to get the job done.

She's got to be an exemplar at least a level one or sometin! Maeve wracked her brain the first few nights as her room lay silent after she’d arrived.

When she saw both agents reappear, she let out a visible demonstrative sigh.

"One would think you'd stay nearby us, Second Lieutenant Maguire," Fanous chided her. Brown eyes beneath arched manicured brows swept upward as the judgment of the Egyptian-American only seemed to increase by the moment.

"Yeah, well, I need some air since yer not lettin' me near where my sister died," she calmed herself to keep her sharp tongue in check.

Verbally sparring with Agent Jimenez was one thing, and going up against the serene 'standing bitch face' of Agent Kasrin Fanous was a terrifying prospect to the Irishwoman.

"I was busy up north, some kid needed a rush job on her temporary MID," Jimenez said in passing.

They were right outside Harborview Hospital, and after dodging the reporters the chase took the trio a block away. Now they were slowly making their way back as the two DPA Agents expounded upon the importance of a 'low profile' to one 'Hurricane Maeve'. She was a military specialist trained to deal with terrorist cells and to disarm violent mutant magic users. Cloak and dagger was something she played well at, but not when she had a pack of reporters obviously tipped off to her arrival. All she wanted to do was get away from the reporters and continue the journey back to the primary West Hospital building of Harborview Medical Center. Her eyes rolled as a car sped past them, a bright red pickup truck which almost ran a red light on Ninth Avenue.

Right before them, the street continued past the massive Jefferson Building to her right and a smaller unnamed building to her left. Quickly, she picked up speed on the pavement as her black ballerina flats barely made a sound. Her ever-present shadows only added to her urgency to get to the hospital so she could get a clue to her sister's killer. Maeve's long dark hair was blown in the wind as the stormy grey sky above her threatened to unleash a torrent of rain down upon her. Just like home. She smiled to herself as she prepared to step off the sidewalk onto the street. Carefully honed instincts from years dashing across streets from Galway to Dublin primed her for ready to dash across the perils of American traffic.

She glanced both ways and stepped out. However, just as she took three steps she heard a roar of an engine, witnessed a flash of red and only just in time jumped back as the red truck from early nearly collided with her. Instead of being sent flying across the street she felt the torrent of air as the car zipped in front of her and collided with a traffic light. The screeching of breaks signaled an attempt by the driver to stop. The poor sod reacted too slow as his entire front caved in and the windshield of the car cracked as it impacted against the pole. The base of the traffic light groaned as it bent inward forcing the light to fall forward.

A body lay on the ground bleeding out after being ejected by the impact. Maeve raced over as several people from inside the nearest hospital building soon joined her. One glance at the driver, a young caucasian male with brown hair, and stereotypical frat lad look. She grimaced as she checked for his pulse and found none. His head was smashed open, and the gore of his brain matter was slowly coagulating in his brown hair. Both passengers were dead, and it felt almost if they had implicitly aimed to hit her.

Maeve stepped back as she considered what she could do. Hmmm, it can't be, can it? Simple logic would tell her that the poor idiots had made a coincidental decision to turn around and speed their way back. She walked around to the back of the truck. Like any American pickup truck it was large, and obviously a statement of one's male virility. That was what they did right? She cocked an eyebrow as she spread her hand over the truck's partially intact flatbed. Essence bled into the spell as she mumbled out the words in Irish.

"Nocht a rún," she uttered the command and waved her hand over the empty black plastic bed. Nothing happened, at first, she walked to the left coming toward the rear left wheel. Suddenly, a small tingling occurred along with her hand at the point of a small silver ring on her left hand. As she concentrated she held the hand out palm flat as she moved it back and forth over the wheel until she found the location with the most intense feeling. She ceased the spell and reached inside just above the wheel. Her fingers found a small package and as she removed it she felt a charge of negative energy shoot up her arm. It was akin to being shocked, and made her arm ache as she picked up the object and held it in her hand.

A hex bag, or a ramshackle version of one from what she could tell. The 'bag' itself was made of a small kidskin leather pouch. Carefully she set it down and stared at it. There was a barest hint of bad luck tied to the bag and as she thought about opening it she sighed. Her ingredients were mostly back in her hotel as today was just suppose to be a basic scrying. Who knew whoever she tracked would play their hand so quickly. Maeve usually kept a purified silver knife on her person for such occasions and as she withdrew said knife from her back jean pocket she fingered it. The knife blade was made of high-quality silver and was regularly cleansed in ritual water. Then there was the white oak handle to complete the evil slicing combination, and she had it as a basic folding-blade.

Thank ye to all the Gentry for simple forward-thinking. She laid the hex bag onto the plastic truck bed and muttered a few small words of prayer. A flick of her wrist sent the knife's blade outward and she carefully drew it along the cardinal directions, and finally invoked the name Saint Brigid as an extra precaution. After finishing her incantation she felt the air around her go still as others were already inspecting the bodies of the two men. She drew the knife across the twine holding it shut and sliced it open enough to peek at the contents. Inside was a long piece of blackened quartz almost rotted completely through. Wrapped around it was a string of mistletoe. Maeve made a quick judgment and used the knife to nudge the vine apart, as she thought there was something else inscribed upon the crystal.

This magic bound many different things together, and reminded her of the witchcraft she once faced against a mercenary from Germany. It was almost all the same down to one single difference. The hex bag, in that case, used the double thunderbolts of Thor in an attempt to electrocute her to death, and this one was quite different. No, this crystal had the Kenaz rune, the rune of Loki the Trickster. It meant knowledge, and intuition, but combined with the mistletoe the plant used to slay Baldr God of light in Norse Mythology.

"Clever girl," she growled as she flipped the knife back into its handle. She had a basic idea of who would invoke a God of Chaos and a powerful Symbol of darkness tricking the light. It was a simple spell of diversion, and yet she knew of only a handful of practitioners who were foolish enough to use it.

"I'll find you - ye damn slag," she said before she placed the knife in her back jean pocket. Agent Jimenez finally decided to approach her at that moment as he read her sharpened focus.

"Was this related to your sister?" he put the pieces together as her expression gave away by the cogs working in her head.

"Yes, same magic, or at least someone associated. This car was suppose to hit me, but since they put it in place to activate when I walked by instead of direct it themselves they missed," she explained clinically.

"Your government forbade anyone, but you to do this search, so I trust you know what you are doing." He gave a wave of his hand as she stopped for a moment.

Something was still off. Much like a cop straight out a of hardboiled noir book she felt a tingling in her gut. Her eyes swept the scene one more time and she considered destroying the hex bag. Even if she sliced it open the rune would continue to attract bad luck and jinx whoever was foolish enough to touch it. I'll need ash from a Rowan, and need to get some iron, probably a horseshoe. The woman's mind alit with thoughts as she tabulated the necessary ingredients for the proper purging. The amount of work alone was going to set her back a day or two not including the legwork to get the damn ingredients.

A pinch of moly would do the trick, if she still had that damn Rowan ash!

She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Agent Fanous hovered on the edge of her vision, and she groaned. Please don't tell me I have to fill out paperwork cuz some stupid bint tried to kill me with a hex bag. Feckin' Yank Bureaucracy!

Maeve shook her head and released the bridge of her nose as that tingling in her gut popped up again. Cocking an eyebrow she uttered her spell once again and this time she didn't move her hand. Silent casting and whispering the words often dampened the spell's effectiveness. It's all in me head anyway. Walking around the truck one last she didn't feel the unease in her gut nor did the ring on her finger give off any feeling.

"Are we done here?" Agent Jimenez asked appearing behind her.

Immediately, as the man drew near to her the sensation in her ring returned. Rather than tingling the feeling traveled directly to her heart as a wave of depression swept over her. Maeve pinched her nose again so that the ring directly faced Agent Jimenez. The man appeared impatient about her lollygagging, and just as the ring pointed at his face she felt a surge of emotions. Rage, vengeance, along with inadequacy and much more. It wasn't the agent's actual emotions. Her eyes narrowed, she recognized the taste of the aura her ring was feeding to her.

Breaking off the spell, she knew she had to think. The miasma of her working would likely decay quickly as she used a little essence to reveal the aura attached to the man. Jimenez kept his gaze on her while she gathered up the hex bag and was handed an evidence bag by Agent Fanous.

"I need ta see the hospital room," she stated, "and as soon as possible."

Yes, and I need ta find out why my sister's Spirit left an auric trace on the agent. She smirked to herself at finally getting a lead in her case, and a small tinge of joy came to her. If the Spirit had found a new host she could be tracked. The Emerald Soul, could tell her who killed Sinnead, and bring the vile magician to justice.

Early Morning, November 7th, 2007 - Kings Street Station

The sun gave me no respite that morning, it somehow found a hole in my curtain and landed it's bright burning rays upon my eyes. I woke irritated, and as the wonder of attending a new school hit me like a punch to the face I was wide awake. The night before I'd tossed and turned as the anxiety of the trip across the country to go to 'boarding school' came closer and closer. I could say I hadn't felt uneasy, but it was a bald-faced lie. My life became a quick blur of constant events as the rush of change tore into my life like a hungry dog. Sitting up in my bed I winced at the cool concrete of my basement room floor. Already the space heater was kicking on to reheat the room after being off for more than a few hours.

I heard the steady "THUNK" of my father splitting a piece of wood to restart the fire for the morning. Breakfast was a bowl of oatmeal, a plate of bacon, and a large quantity of juice. I ate it all in only a few minutes and could almost feel my body digesting it by the minute. The charge of energy would last me long enough for the two-hour drive to Seattle.

"The winds of destiny be callin' little Draoi."  Morgan's voice crooned in my mind, and I could tell she wanted to tell me something. I decided to use the upstairs bathroom. A last-minute shower to clean out my hair and get me ready for the long cross-country ride. Looking around I dropped my towel on the ground. My family's shower was built of a wood frame covered in tile. The greenness of it was astounding, and as I ran my hands over the glass blocks that formed the wall I smiled. Inside it was big enough for three people to stand, and I traced a hand over the cool red interior tile.

"What ye wan Morgan?" I asked her aloud, and I noticed a sudden shapeshifted beyond the glass. Immediately, I shook my head and turned on the water to let the heat wash over me. Soaping my hair now took far longer than it did, but when I washed out the hair mask after shampooing I was overjoyed. Proper hair care was important to a girl, and mom had carefully schooled me in the care of my bright red locks.

"I can feel your strength returning little Draoi after so long we are almost ready for what awaits." My spirit sounded far more confident than she had been. After fifteen minutes I stepped from the shower and toweled off my hair, and my body. I glanced at the shifting hair falling over my shoulders as I turned around to moisturize my face.

Upon seeing the mirror my image stared back. A pair of emerald-colored eyes that faintly glowed with a burning intensity. It reminded me of my favorite video games, and as I leaned forward I smiled at the small bronze ring near my cornea. Skin the color of porcelain and pinked with the flowing of blood. I smirked and revealed my rosebud lips, and opened my mouth to smile widely. The day after the attack my front canines had fallen out to be replaced by a pair of sharpened ones. Honestly, my pale skin, and reddened lips, plus the actual teeth did make me look vaguely predatory. I leaned forward to marvel at random freckles which covered my face, nose, and jawline.

Unlike some redheads, I wasn't 'dusted' with freckles, and my skin while yes pale, held a healthy hue to it. Each movement I made showed the muscles used to make my curves, and to give me the strength I exuded.

"Impressive," a voice said from the mirror. and as I moved I saw her, Morgan. Just like from my dream she stood there leaning forward in the mirror, and her eyes blazed brighter than my own. As she moved, I felt a small rapture grow in my chest as I placed my hands on the edge of the granite sink top.

"Ye look fantastic," I chortled to her.

"As do you my heart, as fine as any lass who graced the sweepin' lands of Merica an Eirinn." I hugged myself as the joy spread through me and I gave a cant of my head.

"Much is ahead of us my beloved, as you host me, I will as we grow stronger lend you more of my power." She said as I wrung my hands together a small bit of unease coming to me.

"What...do you want in return?" I finally inquired.

"You have saved me, my heart, you give me a second chance to right the wrongs done to me and mine. For this I am eternally grateful."

I could tell then she was telling me the truth. Morgan hid from me many things and yet, I knew she never said a thing that was meant to cause me harm. Now that I was fed and showered, I snuck downstairs to wear the freshly laid out dress mom picked out. Strangely enough,  Sloan had suggested the small peplum dress, the color of my hair, and just tight enough. Not a pure body-con, the dress had the small frame all like it did, and it ended in a nice clear-like lace. The bodice itself ended a few inches above my cleavage for a tasteful look, and yet emphasized my newly gained exemplar figure.

Along with my quirky little bull-dog headed purse, I struck a memorable figure. Leaving my hair free I helped dad load the last of my mass of luggage into the car as mom handed me a massive mug of coffee to drink. The energy from the coffee eased my mind as all of us piled into the car. We caught the early Seven AM Ferry, and as we left on the opposite side I waved to the crew.

"Bye guys! See you in a few months," I called out as the captain leaned out from the piloting tower to return my wave.

Driving to Seattle was a long boring affair and I soon found myself lost in the student handbook. Yeah, I know, I'm a nerd, sue me. I was reading the damn thing not to be a good girl, no I was reading it because I wanted to know which rules they were likely to enforce. Which were likely to be ignored, and which I could find my ass handed to me over. The experiences shown to me in High School over the years, plus a long-standing love of history had taught me a thing or two.

A fool knows how to play by the rules. A clever girl knows how to play the rules.

Maybe this is why whenever I assign an alignment to myself in 3.5 edition in Dungeons and Dragons I was chaotic neutral. I mean, I tried my best to stick to rules, and yet, I saw no reason to bend them to make it easier on everyone. Now, I am completely new as a Dungeon Mistresses, but as someone who reads doorstopper novels for kicks, I think have a good sense in my pretty head.

"A new chapter dawns, my heart." Morgan's words crooned in my head as I watched the landscape of Whatcom and later Skagit county whiz by. I could feel the growing anticipation as every town came and went.

"What do you feel lays before us?" I asked her in a whisper. Sloan didn't register me talking to myself and nor did my parents.

"And those who were seen dancing thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music." She quote to me.

"What?" I asked quizzically.

"Friedrich Nietzsche, a man who was far ahead of his time. Maybe not the most accurate, but his words are apt for this moment." Morgan spoke quietly and I could see the outline of her form reflecting to me in the window. "You are a beautiful soul, my heart, you hold so much potential. I can only hope whatever aid I render in our upcoming life together finds you successful."

"Thank you," I smiled and turned to face forward. My parents were busily discussing a few things. I tried to listen in a few times and all I could make out was. "Therapy" and "Training" was all I could make out as mom gave me a stern look for trying to eavesdrop. Failing in my spy attempt I closed my eyes to let the rest of the ride to the station give me some peace.

Arriving in Seattle proper, you know past Stanwood and finally we were passing the mall at Northgate. The traffic gods were in our favor as my dad zoomed carefully with precision from lane to lane. Years of life in Seattle taught my father how to move among the growing chaos of the traffic. Twenty minutes later we were pulling off at the exit and were slowly driving through the streets of downtown. Boulevard passed by fast as we rounded through the streets beyond high rise and boutique shops. My life was speeding up it seemed, and all I could do was hold on for dear life.

"When we marched to war, me mam kissed me cheek and bade me good luck. We do this together as sisters." I could feel Morgan as I shifted my body and cracked my neck. Newfound confidence lit along my limbs and I licked my sharpened teeth. The world lay ahead of me and I was going to tear into it with determined gusto.

"Kings Street Station," mom said aloud, and I stared into the mirror from her window cover. Mom's kind green eyes were filled with tears as my emotions suddenly built. Did I mention I feel things harder? Yeah, when I'm sad, I am really sad. It's profound, and just as my dad stopped the car I leaned over and hugged my sister.

"What's happening? Why are you touching me? MOM! Grainne's lost it!" Sloan protested in jest. I laughed with her as her smile told me how serious she was.

"We need an adult, I can't stop myself!" I jeered and pulled my younger sister into a hug. Today, she wore her stereotypical Hot Topic form. A pair of black hip-hugger pants with black hanging suspender belts, a black crop top, and of course black platform boots. She even had on black lipstick to complete her ensemble.

"You two," mom sighed as we both exited the car and I closed the door carefully. All of my confidence surged forward as I walked to my mom nearby and hugged her as hard as I could without hurting her. Pulling away I let her plant a kiss on my forehead and I gave a hug to my dad after he unloaded my luggage. Two large suitcases, my backpack, and a large carry-on roller case.

Each case in hand and my dad pulling the small roller I glanced up at Kings Street Station. A beautiful light bricked plaza lay at my feet filled with chairs for a small cafe located just inside the station. The station itself was a neatly built square redbrick building tapering to a small steppe pyramid roof. Atop in large metal letters the sign read "Kings Street Station" about twenty to thirty feet above the plaza. To the right as I waited was the long row of train tracks and the platforms for waiting passengers. The strangely eye-catching light grey pavement was brightened by the appearance of a bright fall day sun.

My dad started walking first, pushing us all to the inevitable end of this chapter of our lives. A few feet in front of the front doors we met up with the Jamesons. Corrine, ever the stylish mother wore a green dress over a pair of black leggings, and a leather jacket. By her side was Gerald, brown leather jacket over a black button-down shirt and jeans. Sophia matched her mom in a dress, leggings, and a denim jacket. Altogether I felt a little underdressed by both, but I decided to just run with it. The cool air of the autumn day made my bare legs become covered in goosebumps.

"Looking good lil Rose," Corinne said to me as she offered my mother a hug. Gerald and my dad started to discuss the travel times of the upcoming train as well as break the school offered between classes. My backpack slung over my left shoulder and my purse along with it I followed Corinne and Sophia into the building. I looked above me and watched the form of the massive clock tower nearby disappear from sight. A thirty-foot vaulted ceiling and beautiful white painted walls replaced it.

I followed the two over to a row of connected brown leather chairs. Finding my place I sat down and decided to rest my feet while Gerald and dad continued to talk. From what I could make out, we'd transfer onto one other train once in Boston which would then take us to the Dunwich Station in New Hampshire. It seemed pretty straight forward to me, as I pretty much decided to just wait. The two passed a few papers between the two of them and I noted Sophia's gaze lingering on her smartphone. I considered just losing myself in a book on my own but instead decided to just observe the world around me.

Dad handed me a ticket not long after and I noted the departure time, only about ten minutes away. I inhaled as I rose up and gave my father a hug and he whispered, "I love you dearest."

Tears filled my eyes as my emotions threatened to overwhelm me. Two baseline teenaged boys watched me as I pressed my face into my father's shoulder and cried. I didn't want to leave my home and family or let that bastard Dickinson control my life to the degree he did. Circumstances were not so kind, however, and Ferndale High School was closed to me. The friends of the men I fought against last Friday were already doing their best to make my family's life a living hell.

"Dickinson's widow has already tried to press charges three times against your daughter," Gerald informed us all.

"How goes the lawsuit?" I asked carefully.

"Good, the fact that Brad's father was present at the night ride is more than enough evidence to show malice." That was good right? My family was already watching their backs and thinking of increasing security. If Gerald could financially bleed the Finkbonners and the school maybe some of my suffering could be alleviated.

"More than good, when we got them to release you I already had more than enough evidence. This new addition shows that the family is out for blood. With all of it tied up in public appearances, plus their own patriarch being so reckless they'll be begging for a cash settlement." Gerald rubbed his hands together as I smiled. It was good to hear that after so much my family was going to finally get something out of this entire ordeal.

"It's better to let the enemy hang themselves my heart, or let them fall into a trap than play their game," Morgan purred. She was right, and as I realized it this was how I would have to be in my life. For years others stole from me the simplicity of choice. Yeah, let's get the hyperbole aside, I could decide how I dressed, or what I said. But in the greater scheme of things I couldn't present myself as a girl without fear of being harmed. Throughout my life until I made a deal with Morgan I didn't have the power necessary to stand up against cruel fate.

I stared off into space for a moment, as I felt the world melt away for just a second. Another daydream as I found myself standing at the edge of a vast forest. Three women stood with their backs to me, each wearing a dress similar to what Morgan always sported. One was dark green, another scarlet, and the final one a blue of the ocean. As I watched the tallest of the three the one in green turned away from the others and faced the forest. She was redhaired, and her eyes the color of burning emeralds. But, it wasn't Morgan. It was someone else.

Just as the woman glanced my way she turned and the three began to shrink as they drew farther and farther away. Just as I was about to call out to them I heard the call for boarding. My eyes snapped me back into reality as Sophia waved at me to get my attention.

"Hey, dreamer girl, we gotta go!' she giggled as she picked up her luggage. It came, the last goodbye between myself and my family. Sloan was the first to hug me and whisper "give ‘em hell" in my ear, and dad was the last. Mom's hug was perhaps the strongest as I tried not to break into sobs.

Five minutes passed as the last call for boarding came. An angry rail employee dressed in the blue waistcoat and white shirt uniform of Amtrak nearly yelled at us to board. Finally, I pulled everything on board as my bags and carryon were stowed in my sleeper car. It was a rush, a blur of motion as I couldn't contain my thoughts and as per usual saw myself lost in them. As I kept repeating to myself - this was a new chapter of my life. So many questions rushed in front of me. What was I going to learn? Who did I want to be when I got there? All I knew is one thing, I now had a voice in what was going to happen. I had the power to change my fate, and by the wyrd, nothing was going to stop me.