An Important Notice to Readers...
Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience. Please be advised.
"Why did you have to hit him so hard?" Fr. O'Kenney leaned over the Sheriff's face, checking again that the man was still breathing. Satisfied he had not slipped into the Here After, the priest rearranged the pillow under Beckett's head, and picked out the pieces of plaster stuck to his hair.
"I dinna hit him, laddie. 'Twas that." The clurichaun pointed to the plaster statue of The Last Supper resting again on the fireplace mantle, now missing the heads of two Apostles, and a huge chunk of the table base.
"Well, it certainly didn't just fly off and hit the Sheriff on its own, Brian, so who do you think you're kidding? This isn't going to help matters. Not in the least. When he wakes up, he's gonna be mad as hell."
"Ack, laddie, donna you be worrying over that one. He won't be harmin' ya. I have it on the best authority."
"It's not me I'm concerned about. We're standing around here doing nothing. Wasting time while my sister is somewhere out there in some strange body. All alone. With God knows who! In the meantime, I have no idea how to help her, and her husband thinks I'm a certifiable nut job.
If you're as fond of me as you say, I wish you'd help me get her back instead of playing childish tricks on Ted."
The wee man crossed his arms across his chest, and narrowed his eyes. " As I have already spoken, mo leanbh, what you ask is beyond my magic. I canna do little to shape the time and space of things."
"But you told me you understood about the watch! It was you who told me to keep the damn thing! If I had just dumped it in the harbor like Roxanne insisted, none of this would have happened! It was your stu..." He caught himself before making a terrible error in judgement. Although there were many things he still didn't know about the Fey, he was well aware that insulting any of them was not a smart move. Changing tactics, he wandered into the kitchen to retrieve the bottle of Jameson tucked under the sink, along with a tiny tea cup of the sorts young girls used with their dolls. Eyeing the opened bag of cookies on the counter, he grabbed those as well, and made his way back into the rectory parlor.
Ted was still out cold, Brian sitting on his stomach rummaging through the man's pockets. Though he heard Kevin's return, the little fairy ignored the priest, intent on finding something of interest in the Sheriff's belongings. The image of the clurichaun resting on his brother-in-law's gut was so bizarre, for a second he forgot about Maureen. Forgot about the seriousness of the situation, and let out a giggle. He thought about snapping a picture with his phone for future reference, but doubted the success of that attempt. The fey were all together camera shy, and Brian was already annoyed with him as it was.
Instead, he poured a shot of the whiskey into the tiny cup, laid three cookies on a napkin next to it, and sat on the sofa to wait for acceptance of his gift. A few moments later, the tiny man scrambled off the Sheriff and made his way over to the reshreshments. He downed the whiskey in one gulp, smacking his lips in obvious enjoyment. Two cookies disappeared as well, and when he finished, he wiped his hands on the upholstery, and joined the priest on the sofa.
"You have more of the same, laddie?"
"The whiskey and the cookies?"
The fairy nodded his head, suddenly more somber.
"Yes. There's plenty more in the kitchen."
"That be good then. You'll be needing them shortly." He slid off the couch, and made his way back to Beckett. "This one will be awake soon. Then we shall see as we shall see." Kneeling at the Sheriff's feet, he worked the laces from his shoes, and jammed them in his pockets."
Kevin knew it was probably rude to ask, but couldn't help himself. "May I ask why you stole his shoe laces?"
Brian humphed in disgust. " I be no thief, laddie. Just taken' my due. I gave him a gift, anna I took one in return. It is how things be."
His answer made Kevin uneasy. "You gave him...a gift? Uhmmm...can I ask what the gift was?"
"I see no reason why ya should not know, since he be awake in no time. I gave the lassie's man An Radharc."
His brain scrambled for the English translation "You gave him...The Sight."
The little man's mouth turned down in a frown, his concern quite apparent. "Aye. An Radharc. When he wakes, he will see me as clear as your own eyes. Alas, it be only lastn' a short space. Unless She Who is All decides to make it longer."
So astonished was he by Brian's revelation, he paid little attention to the "She Who is All" portion of the comment, a mistake he would never in the future make again. "So...are you saying that when the Sheriff wakes up, he's gonna be able to see you just as I do. Like in the flesh?"
"Aye. That is how it be. Though unlike ye, laddie, who were born with the gift, the Croi Diamhair will lose the sight as time progresses. Unless it be made long lasting. Or forever."
The thought of Beckett...the all knowing, always on top, have all the answers Beckett...coming face to face with things of the magical sort...was a concept hard to take in all at once. When he himself had first met Brian, he had been convinced the wee man was a product of an over active imagination, a result of some exceedingly potent weed induced high. But time, and more than a little bit of research, had proved otherwise. He had come to believe that the world was made up of many things not seen by human eyes, and that the Almighty Father was Creator of them all. But he was a man of faith, his life built on the concept of believing without seeing. Theodore Beckett was a different story. He professed to believe in nothing that couldn't logically be explained with tangible proof. How he would react to the existence of the Fey, Kevin couldn't begin to guess.
As if on cue, the Sheriff began to stir on the floor, mumbling obscenities as he attempted to roll on his right side. Kevin himself struggled to get up from the sofa, the cast on his foot acting as a heavy anchor to the floor. Brian followed on his heels.
"If I may offer a suggestion, Brian, I'd recommend you let him get upright before you ...Uhmmm...make yourself known. He has a tendency to...react quickly. I'd hate to see you get hurt."
"Auch, Laddie. No worries there. I be much faster than he. But you speak wisely. It is best I let him gather his senses for what is to come." Grabbing another cookie off the plate, he dodged behind the sofa.
By the time the priest hobbled across the living room floor, Beckett had managed a sitting position on his own, and was busy feeling the growing lump on the back of his head. He looked up at Kevin, and growled, "Who the fuck hit me, O'Kenney? You better hope the hell it wasn't you, because brother or no brother, I'm gonna beat the shit out of you."
He put out his arm, and offered Beckett a hand up, leaning on his crutches for support. "It wasn't me, I swear." Taking a lesson from Brian, he too pointed at the chipped Last Supper on the mantle. "You got hit with that. Across the back of the head." He tried to help the man to a near by desk chair, but the Sheriff shook off his assistance.
"What I'm asking, you idiot, is who hit me with it?"
Before a reasonable answer could be formulated, the clurichaun stepped out from behind Fr. Kevin's legs.
"That be me, Croi Diamhair."
Not expecting what he saw, nor believing what appeared in front of him, the startled Sheriff took a step backwards, nearly tripping over the chair Fr. Kevin had dragged over for him a few moments earlier. He grabbed for the weapon which normally rested in his waistband, but that was gone, along with the pistol in the ankle holster. Years of training kicked in, and he made a dive for the fairy, only to find himself immobile, unable to move a single muscle, stuck firmly in place. He looked frantically at Kevin, who had stood silent throughout the entire fiasco. "What the fuck is going on here, O'Kenney? Who...or what...the hell is that?"
The pounding was like a jack hammer in his head, the bag of ice O'Kenney had offered not helping the pain one single bit. Although he could now move about freely, everything worked in slow motion. The small man thing glared at him from across the room, eyeing him with clear distrust. That was fine with him. He didn't trust "it" either. While he clumped around the room, his brother-in-law attempted to explain the unexplainable. First time travel, and now this. Fairies? Magic. It was all nonsense. Kid stories, and nothing more. There had to be a reasonable explanation for what was happening right now, but what it was, he had no clue.
He tried to focus on the words coming out of Kevin's mouth, but like the rest of him, his brain didn't seem to be functioning on all it's guns. From what he could understand, the midget had some information about retrieving his Maureen, and it was for that reason alone he didn't attempt to take the freaky thing out. Instead, he did his best to make sense of the conversation around him.
"But Brian, there's got to be something we can do? Magic caused Maureen to travel, and magic has to be able to get her back."
"That is true, mo leanbh daor, but as I have spoken, the watch is a white spell, cast by one more powerful than I. It can not be broken. The lassie must use it on her own to return, just as you have done yourself."
"There has to be some other way. Another option. What if one of us went to her? Explained what happened. Helped her get to the right spot. I know just where to find one of those places. If I could just get to her."
"To break the binds of time is powerful magic, laddie. Very powerful. And from the dark side."
"But you just said the watch was a white spell."
"Aye. The watch is a talisman for a white spell. But you don't have the watch. The lassie does. Without the talisman, all is lost."
"Don't you dare say all is lost, you little freak. It's my wife we're talking about. There has to be some other way." The clurichaun raised his hand, and the pain in his head felt like a red hot poker. Beckett grimaced, but made no sound.
"I do not like you, Croi Diamhair. The light that surrounds you is dark. But I can see the feelings you bear for the lassie are true. If for no other reason, I will tell you what I know. There is one among us that can help. She Who is All. She alone is powerful enough to send you back."
Both mortal men spoke at once. "Who is she?"
Suddenly, the air seemed to grow heavy in his lungs, and the lights above his head flickered. Beckett kept blinking his eyes, but the room continued to appear in shimmering shades of pinks and purples, and he wondered if he was possibly suffering from some late reaction to the blow to the head. Across the room, the little man dropped to the floor, tugging at O'Kenney's pant leg, and insisting he do the same.
There came a loud buzzing sound in his right ear, and then a sharp pinch to his lobe. He turned his head in reaction, only to feel a stinging slap in response.
"I am She Who Is All, Croi Diamhair, and you best be remembering that."
Copyright Victoria T. Rocus 2015
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