Comings and Goings, and Everything In Between

     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.

Thank You,

The Author

The Green Dragon Tavern 1775

       Until this moment, she had considered herself in great physical shape.  Her career as a dancer...three shows a night...had demanded it.  Now, away from that life for nearly four months, it was obvious a short run a few times a week wasn't cutting it.  Beckett was several feet ahead, and she was struggling to not fall further behind.  He had needed to stop and let her catch up once.  To have him do it a second time was...well...embarrassing.

    The man had hired her without even looking at her resume, fresh out of Boston College, Criminal Justice degree in hand.  It had been contingent on her passing the physical fitness test, and a clean background check, but Maureen's disappearance had put that all to the side.  This mission, in all its strange craziness, was to her mind a test of sorts.  She needed to prove to him that he hadn't made a mistake in placing his trust in her, here in the past, as well as when they returned home.

      Roxanne pushed hard, wringing the last bits of energy from tired muscles.  The time travel had been more physically taxing this time around.  Her head felt foggy and her muscles rubbery even though she'd been conscious for a better part of an hour.  When she had been swept away with Kevin, it had been the complete opposite.  She'd come to with an enhanced sense of clarity, as if she was viewing the world through a powerful lens.  Now, it seemed as if she had to fully concentrate just to put one foot in front of the other.

      Beckett held out a hand, motioning her to stop, and putting a finger to his lips to warn of silence.  Straining, she could just make out the sucking sounds of wheels in the mud, and the banging of wood against wood.  The Sheriff pointed to a small patch of dense brush near the rutted road they'd been following for the past thirty minutes.  The night sky had begun to lighten to the purple gray of early dawn, and she was able to make out the wagon full of barrels and the driver, his head hanging so low on his chest, he almost appeared asleep.  From the cover of the foliage, they watched the short parade, and when the man was a hundred feet ahead, Beckett signaled again for her to follow him.  Without a sound, the Sheriff caught up to the back of the open wagon, and hoisted himself up onto its back end, motioning to her to do the same.  She tried to move as quietly as he, but the sounds of her feet in the mud sounded as loud as cannons to her ears. Still, she moved forward until she reached the wagon, though getting on the back of the moving vehicle, which was a good four feet off the slippery, mucky ground, proved more difficult for her than it had for Beckett.

            He watched her struggle over and over again, first trying to hoist herself backwards, and then forwards, but offered no assistance, which both pleased and pissed her off at the same time.  It took her running after the damn wagon for nearly a quarter of a mile before she managed to hook a foot in the side paneling to finally pull herself up.  Out of breath, she leaned against the barrels and wiped the sweat from under her hat, in return receiving a thumbs up sign from her boss.  It was a simple gesture, barely noticeable and without much fanfare, but in her mind, as good as Olympic gold.

_____________________________

         Not surprisingly, he slept poorly.  His mind refused to shut down, images of the contents of the hidden box making a permanent home in his brain.  He had a pretty good idea of what he was looking at, though necessity forced him to play dumb in front of Mrs. Revere.  Question and oddities about Ted Beckett began to connect.  His obsession with privacy.  Short, curt answers to direct questions.  Unannounced and unplanned disappearances.  And that uncanny ability with languages.  Lots and lots of them.

       It was clear there was more to his brother-in-law than the personae he wanted everyone to believe. What he did for whom was still sketchy, but there was little doubt that Ted Beckett worked for more than the town of Dollyville.  This should have alarmed him more than it did, but in Fr. Kevin's mind, it made him feel better about the success of returning Maureen to her own body in her own time.  If the man was trained to do the impossible, then he surely had the biggest test in front of him.

      Most of the anger from the day before had left him.  Maybe it was the result of several hours of prayer, or maybe just the realization of what really mattered.  He cared for all of them deeply, even Beckett, who despite sometimes being a genuine asshole, treated him more like an equal than any of his brothers.  And then there was Roxanne.  Roxanne, who held a large chunk of his heart.  He couldn't even begin to consider what it would be like to never see her again.  His wounded pride was nothing compared to how much these people meant to him, and his selfish tirade about being left behind shamed him.  He had only one prayer now, that the good Lord would see fit to return them all safely.  For that, he would be more than eternally grateful.

        His focus needed to be on keeping things normal here at home.  Helping Mrs. Revere adjust to life hidden in the flat, staying ahead of any issues, and trying to act as if life was perfectly normal when it was not.  Kevin checked his iPhone for the day's schedule.  A meeting with the parish finance committee at 11:00, an appearance at the Rosary Society's Annual Fashion Show at 2:00,  followed by an appointment with the heating and air conditioner guy about the church's furnace.  Being busy was a good thing.  No time to worry about what might be going on in 1775.

      When the front door bell rang at 10:45, he expected to see Bill Sykes, the finance chairman of the parish council.  Sykes was a pompous, cantankerous old coot who held an opinion about everything, and Fr. Kevin found him difficult to work with.  But when he opened the door, he would have traded anything he owned for it to actually be Bill on his porch.

        "Shit, Kev.  You still haven't gotten that first stepped fixed?  I told you about it when I was here for Red's wedding.  That's a frickn' law suit waiting to happen.  All you need is for some yahoo to trip on the damn thing, and he'll be suing the diocese for half a mil.  Not good for your career, Kev. Not good at all."

        If the good Lord had any intention of answering his prayers, it was clear He wasn't going to make it easy.  "Morning to you too, Pat.  What bring's you to Dollyville?"

________________________________

     The swaying of the cart, and the exertion of the past few hours, lulled her into a light doze,  so when the Sheriff tapped her on the shoulder, she jumped, startled to have been caught napping on the job, and banging her head on a barrel in the process.

     If he noticed, he didn't mention it.  Leaning in, he whispered, "I can smell salt water and fish.  We must be getting close to Boston Harbor.  Time to get off."

      She nodded, and watched him easily slide off the back of the cart with nary a sound.  He put a hand out to assist her, but she ignored it, instead trying to match his exact movements.  She plopped to the ground with only a small thump, secretly congratulating herself on not face planting, and then followed him.

      They walked about a mile before Boston Harbor came into view.  The water sparkled like a sea of diamonds in the early morning sun, and the breeze carried the stench of rotten fish, wet hemp and unwashed bodies.  Growing up in Boston, she had seen the Harbor a million times, but never once had it instilled such awe as it did now.  Ships of all kinds bobbed in the water, shouts and conversations surrounding her with the business of workday efficiency.  Beckett moved like a man who knew exactly where he was going, and thus, no one seemed to pay him much mind.  Roxanne tried not stare, but her sense were overwhelmed.  Here she was.  In the center of everything she knew about Revolutionary history.  It was almost too much to take in.

      The Sheriff stopped, as if to get his bearings, and then made an abrupt turn left.

      "Where are we going first?"

      "This is the North End.  Union Street is up this way."

      "How do you know that?  Nothing looks the same as it does now."

      "I memorized an old copy of a 1775 map I found on the Internet.  Couldn't risk taking it with me.  Be hard to explain if we were searched, especially during these times."

      "The Revere home is on North Square, not Union. I'm positive.  I remember taking the house tour as a kid."

      He gave her a look that suggested her opinions were not necessary, unless he requested them.  "I'm aware of that.  But we can't just wander over to North Square, snatch up Maureen, and head for that spot in the bank.  Not here in 1775.  These were difficult times.  The British were keeping tabs on every one's comings and goings, especially those suspected of having anything to do
with The Sons of Liberty.  I have no doubt the British are keeping a close eye on Revere's shop and home, and we as strangers would garnish too much attention.  From both sides.  I think its best we casually 'introduce' ourselves in town.  Make it known that we're no threat to anyone.  Just here from Philadelphia to visit our dear cousin, Rachel."

     "I guess I understand your reasoning, but didn't the Fairy Queen insist we stay to ourselves?  Not interact with anyone from this time period?"

      He gave her another look, this one a tad more scary.  "This is my mission.  We'll do it my way.  Are we clear on that, Spinelli?"

      "Yes, Sir."

      "Glad to hear it. We'll be heading down Union Street.  I'm looking for the Green Dragon Tavern."


Copyright Victoria T. Rocus 2015
All Rights Reserved

   

 

     

Happy Spring Dear Readers!
        Due to an impossible work load for the "Day Job", there will be no new post this week.  Wish me luck as I give my first professional development work shop today, as well as get the book my students are writing to press.  It's crazy around here!!!
      I invite you all to come back next week to learn first hand how Beckett and Roxanne are faring in Pre-Revelotionary Boston, and what Fr. Kevin has to say about the strange discovery he's made.

As always, I appreciate the loyal support of my humble literary endeavors.
Until next week,
Vicki

Keeping Secrets

           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.

Thank You,

The Author

Ted and Maureen's kitchen

      The period clothes felt mortifying, in the manner of a girl who eventually realizes her prom date has stood her up.  He trudged the stairs to his bedroom where he stripped them off in anger, throwing the entire collection into a heap on the closet floor.  It was still quite humid, and so he shunned the dark suit of his profession for a comfortable pair of khakis and polo shirt.  To Fr. Kevin's mind, responsibility owed that he should walk down the street and check on Mrs. Revere.  She deserved an update on the current state of events, or at least the information that the Fairy Queen's spell had seemed to be successful.  Embarrassment stood in his way.  She'd immediately recognize there had been a last minute change of plans, and somehow he'd have to explain that he'd been purposefully left behind.

           Still, the empty quiet of the rectory seemed worse.  Jamming his cell phone and keys in his pocket, he ambled out the front door and down the street toward the deli.  Now that Roxanne was gone, the woman's safety and well being had become his concern.  Part of him found comfort in that notion.   Even though his head understood that the woman was not truly Maureen, she looked like the little sister who held his heart, and just viewing her face made him feel better.  He knew it was a silly notion, but secretly hoped his extra kind treatment of Rachel Revere would result in mirror treatment of his sister, alone and lost in that strange body.

            Upon arrival, there was no way to escape the third degree questioning by Mrs. Schiller.  It was several minutes and two homemade crullers later before he could make his way upstairs to Ted and Maureen's flat.  As planned, the woman was stretched out across the bed, right foot wrapped up to look as if she had suffered a bad sprain, the consensus being that the less interaction the fake Maureen had with the life of the real one, the better.  She looked up from the book she was reading, and it was was obvious from the expression on her face she was not surprised to see him.

            "Good Evening, Reverend.  I surely hope you bring good news."

            "You don't seem very shocked to see me, Mrs. Revere.  I'll take that as a sign that you were part of the conspiracy to make a fool of me."  He hadn't intended to be so harsh.  The woman was as much a victim in all of this as Maureen was.  Maybe even more so, since she didn't even have knowledge of the watch.  But it galled him beyond belief that he was so gullible, so out of touch, that all this subterfuge could go on behind his back and he'd been none the wiser.

                His words apparently touched a nerve, as she blushed, looking downward and fingering the weave of the comforter.  "I can see we have hurt your feelings, Reverend O'Kenney.   Believe me when I say that was never our intention...your friends and I.  Mr. Ted...the Sheriff I mean...he made some valid points.  A man in your position, a servant of the Lord Himself, has no business being involved in things of a wicked nature.  Fairy magic and such.  I must admit to agreeing with his feelings on the subject."

            Fr. Kevin dragged a kitchen chair out with his foot, and dropped into without ceremony.  "Please, Mrs. Revere.  I've heard this lecture more than enough times.  It doesn't excuse the fact that you all plotted against me.  Against my wishes.  I'm quite capable of making up my own mind on decisions that affect my life."

           "It was the very point of that life we expressed concerned over, Reverend.  There was no telling how the loss of any part of your soul might damage your vocation.  It was a risk your dear friends were unwilling to let you take, despite your misguided decision to do so."  She sighed, and closed the book in her lap.  "I think it was ever so generous of them to make such a sacrifice on your behalf.  I should count myself lucky to number them among my dearest comrades.  I hope someday you can understand the monumental gift they've given you."

            It was her honest emotion that made him feel guilty.  Here she was, stranded in a body that was not her own, ripped from the life she knew, but expressing only concern for his bruised feelings.  It made him feel small and petty.   "I suppose I'll get over it, Mrs. Revere.  At some point."  He rose and rummaged through the fridge in search of something he might call dinner.  "Are you hungry?  Can I fix you something?  A sandwich or snack."

           "Much thanks, Reverend.  But I am far too worried to eat.  You have yet to tell me how the two brave souls fared in their attempt to time travel.  Did the fairy spell work?  Have they gone to set things straight?"

             "I wish I could tell you how it all happened.  Unfortnately, the Sheriff's punch to the head knocked me out cold.  I never saw them leave.  But I have it on good authority that the spell was successful.  We can only hang on to hope that they find my sister and get her to the right spot in time.  If that should happen, you and she should return immediately to your rightful bodies."

             Rachel clapped her hands together.  "Oh, I can only pray for a such a positive outcome.  If this doesn't work, I am not sure how..."  Her voice trailed off, and she looked away, unable to formulate the awful words.  "We must be optimistic, Reverend.  All shall work out fine.  And in the meantime, you must tell me all about your dear sister.  I think I would very much like her."

             It was in that way they passed the rest of the evening, sharing stories of family and events as if they were old friends catching up after a long absence.  The young woman was easy to talk to, and there was something strange and fascinating in hearing of the country's early struggles for democracy from a first hand perspective.  For awhile, he was able to forget his long list of self doubt and worries, and when Maureen's small table clock chimed 10:00 PM, he was shocked to find it that late.

             Fr. Kevin stood up, and pushed away from the table.  "It's getting late, Rachel.  I should really head back to the rectory.  There's a few things I need to take care of before I turn in.  Will you be alright in the flat by yourself?"

             "I shall be fine, Fr. Kevin.  I have enjoyed your company greatly."

             "And I yours, Ma'am.  I will be back to check on you after morning Masses."

             "Thank you, Reverend.  I am grateful for your kindness.  Though, I wonder if I may ask a favor before you leave?"

             "Sure.  What do you need?"

             "I almost hate to trouble you, but there seems to be a leak of sone kind under the water cabinet."  She pointed to the floor next to the kitchen sink, where a large puddle had formed.  "I wipe it up, and it soon returns.  I would be most upset to have your sister return to find her beautiful floor damaged.  Do you think you might see if you can fix it?"

             "Not a big problem.  Let me take a look.  Maybe just a loose pipe or something. I'm sure I can find some temporary fix for tonight.  Tomorrow, if it's still leaking, I'll have to call a plumber."  He took a towel and wiped the puddle, then knelt on his hands and knees and peered under the sink.  It was a difficult spot in which to manuever his 6 foot plus frame, and in an attempt to get at the pipe, he banged his elbow hard against the back of cabinet.  Expecting solid wall, he was shocked when the wooden panel gave way, exposing a gaping hole beyond the cabinet.

                Something shiny caught the light.  Curiosity got the best of him, and he pulled more of the wood away, revealing a small "hidey hole" containing a metal box, much like the kind fisherman used for their tackle.  At this point, it seemed silly not to at least check what was inside.  He'd heard stories about people who squirelled away money inside mattresses and closets.  Maybe a previous tennant had hidden something away and forgotten about it?

                 Fr. Kevin pulled the box out, and un-cramped himself from the tight spot under the sink.  Standing up, he placed the box on the table.  "Look at what I found in a hole behind the sink."

                 "Found?  It was hidden?"

                 "Seems like it.  Shall we see what kind of treasure's inside?"  The box was unlocked, and so he easily flipped open the latch.  For a second or two, he just stood there, unable to process what it was he was seeing.  Large piles of currency from all over the world, held together with thick, gummy rubber bands.  Four cell phones.  The kind you buy over the counter in convenience stores.  Two small hand guns. A switchblade.  And a stack of passports from two dozen countries.  Each with a different name, but all with Ted Beckett's somber face staring up from them.

A secret stash catches Fr. Kevin off guard

Copyright  2015  Victoria T. Rocus
All Rights Reserved

         
   
           

           

           

         

         

In a Huff, and In a Hurry

          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.

Thank You,

The Author

     

Fr. Kevin contemplates being left behind

        He sat that way for a long time, head pressed against the sofa cushion, plastic dish pan in his lap. Brian observed him in odd forlorn silence, which gave credence to his theory that the wee man was somehow involved.  At this point, it didn't matter who was to blame.  It all came down to the fact that none of the people he cared about most, felt he was worthy of their confidence.

       It wasn't a big surprise that Beckett felt this way.  He never hid the fact that he found Kevin's vocation absurd, and his spiritual beliefs naive.  But before Maureen's accident, and the ensuing argument over the psycho woman, he was pretty sure they had been...well... friends, if you could describe a relationship with the Sheriff in such generic terms.  He was the type of person who could  make you feel like you were the only person in the room, while systematically holding you an arm's length away.  Outwardly charming and personable, there was something menacing and grim about his general nature, and when the Fairy Queen had given him the moniker "Dark Knight", the priest was certain it wasn't the man's brunette locks she was describing.

       His brother-in-law's deception had not been a complete shock, but Brian's revelation that Roxanne had traveled in his place cut deep, a total breech of loyalty that hurt more than he would ever admit to anyone, expect ironically, to Roxie herself.  They had experienced the curse of the damned watch together, been sucked into time, and returned unscathed.  She had witnessed first hand how he had done everything possible to get them back home, even to the point of possibly sacrificing his own life.  And now, with Maureen's safety at stake, Rox's lack of belief in him, and the betrayal that went along with it, was worse than the punch Beckett took at his head.

         Kevin tried to push himself up from the floor, and grimaced.  His head still swam, and the rolling in his stomach had taken on a whole new dimension.

        "Best be you stay put, Laddie.  No sense in making things worse."  The clurichaun slid down off the sofa arm to join him on the floor.  "I could help with the ache in your belly, I could, with a fine pot of spearmint tea."

         "I'm fine.  I'm a grown man.  I'll handle it on my own.  You can be on your way now.  No reason for you to be hanging around here.  Nothing to see.  Nothing to say."

        "Ach, Lad, I know you be angry.  And not so well to boot.  But you're lettn' your head lead ya in the wrong direction.  'Tis for the best, and if ya jest spell it all out, you'd be seeing it in the same manner."

         Kevin held up a hand.  "Stop.  Just stop there.  You said your piece earlier.  I don't need a repeat. Especially from someone I can't trust."

         The little man narrowed his eyes, and with a flick of his wrist, the dish pan in his lap flew across the room, and banged into the leg of his desk, splashing vomit in its wake.  "You be actn' like a spoiled bairn, Kevin Seamus!  Not seein' the gift your friends gave for your sake.  They sacrificed themselves...a piece of their immortal soul...so yours could stay clean and whole.  You, who claim belief in all things unseen, did not believe so much as your friends.  They wisely took She Who Was All at her word.  Believed her when she said the dark spell would be costly.  Too costly for one in the service of the Creator.  And when you yourself would not listen to reason, they had little choice be to save you from yourself.  Ach!  You have a head made of saw dust, Lad.  I be shamed for your lack of gratitude."

        The Fey's words both alarmed and embarrassed him, and he knew somewhere in all of this was one of those life changing moments.  Yet, with his head pounding, and his puke puddling in spots on the carpet, he wasn't ready to crawl into the concept that what his friends had done was an act of pure selflessness and love.  What he wanted at the moment was solitude.  The quiet space of self pity where he could lick his wounds in total abandonment.  He pushed himself up from the floor, disregarding the groaning of cramped muscles, and facing the little man, gave a careless wave of his hand. "Well, by all means then, maybe you should be on your way, Brian.  Wouldn't want you hanging around here all ashamed of me, would we?"

        Brian frowned, and shook his head sadly.  "As you wish, laddie.  As you wish."  With a snap of his fingers, he was gone, leaving Fr. Kevin alone in the room with a mess and his thoughts.

______________________________

        Where they would end up had been one of his biggest concerns.  He liked his missions planned in detail, and the Fairy Queen had been less than forthcoming with the incidentals of where and when.  Beckett couldn't imagine what they would do if they appeared out of nowhere in front of people.  It would put them at a disadvantage, a scenario he wanted to avoid at all costs.  In the basics, it was a very simple plan.  Arrive.  Seek out Maureen.  Find the spot in the bank.  Verify that Maureen and Mrs. Revere had switched.  Then, use the amulet to return home.  The key was avoiding contact with other people of the time.  Not so much because of the Queen's warning about changing the nature of time, but simply because in his line of work, contact usually meant conflict.  The more conflict, the messier the job became.  Easy in-easy out worked best, and this mission was no different in most ways than the hundreds he'd undertaken before.  Except, maybe, that the stakes were higher.  More personal

       As it was, he had worried for nothing.  One moment he and Roxanne had been hand-strapped together in the rectory parlor, and the next conscious moment had him on his back starring up at a night sky, his new Deputy lying slightly on top of him, her eyes still closed.  He could feel her breath on his neck, so he knew she was alive and fine, though not yet conscious. Shifting his weight to his right shoulder, he moved her to her back, and with his other hand, unlaced the cord tying their hands.  He pulled the length of cord through the bail of the amulet, then knotted the ends together tightly, and placed the whole thing over his head, tucking it under his clothes.

        Next to him, Roxie groaned, her eye lids fluttering as she fought through the fog of time travel.  Beckett took the time to scope out his surroundings.  Luck on their side, they had landed in a dense spot of trees and foliage, and by the position of the moon, sometime around 4 AM, under the cover of pre-dawn darkness.  He could smell smoke in the distance, and knew there must be others fairly close by, but for the present, it appeared he and Rox were alone.

       It would be best to take advantage of the dark to make their way into the Boston proper as quickly as possible, and so hoping to speed up her full consciousness, he gave Rox a shake, lightly tapping her cheeks.  "Deputy.  Roxanne.  Are you awake? Rise and shine.  We gotta get moving."

         She groaned again, but did not open her eyes.  Beckett checked her pulse, finding it strong and steady, and gave her another hard shake.  "Deputy Spinelli...can you hear me?"

        There was no response.  She seemed to be out cold, unaware that their opportunity for stealth travel was slipping away.  He made a face, but having no other choice, clamped a hand firmly over her nose and mouth.  It took a few seconds, but she began to stir a bit, then struggle, her arms flailing about, until finally her eyes opened wide in terror.  Seeing she was fully awake, he removed his hand.  She shot to a sitting position, coughing and sputtering.

       "What the fuck?!  Why were you tryn' to suffocated me?!"

       "I wasn't.  You were out cold.  I couldn't wait for you to regain consciousness on your own.  Time's slipping away."

        "You could have killed me!"

        "No.  The brain's set for flight or fight.  I knew as soon as I cut off your breathing, it would take over, and force you to fight for survival.   You'd have no choice but to get the adrenaline pumping.  I wouldn't have let you suffocate."

        "Well isn't that fucking nice to know!  Hell, Sheriff...that's pretty extreme, don't you think?"

         He shrugged his shoulders.  "Actually, it's a pretty common technique."  He stood up, and offered her a hand.  "Now, if you think you can stand, I suggest we be on our way."

Beckett and Roxanne arrive outside Boston

Copyright Victoria T. Rocus 2015
All Rights Reserved

     

   

     

Thems' That Go, and Thems' That Stay

    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.

Thank You,

The Author

       

           She paced the small kitchen...nine steps from back wall to hallway...about face...and then nine steps back, careful not to make any noise that would draw attention.  The medical tape she'd used to flatten her boobs stuck to her skin, making her scratch at her chest like a flea ridden monkey, and she felt strangely naked without the weight of her hair bobbing on her back.

          The hair had been the hardest part, the dark locks falling onto the towel like ribboned confetti at a private bon voyage party.  It had seemed ridiculous to cry over hair when she was poised to risk both her life and immortal soul.  Yet, she had sniffled her way through the entire event, leaving just enough length to gather it back in the small queue her research had dictated.  Lacking the indifference to toss the whole mess in the trash, she had rolled the towel up, hair pressed inside, and tucked it in the bottom drawer of the high boy dresser.  Something to deal with when...or if...she returned.

           A loud thump, hard enough to rattle the plates in the dish drain, brought her back to the present.  It sounded exactly like what it probably was, Kevin's 6' 4" frame hitting the parlor floor.  Beckett had been upfront with her about what he intended to do, making no insincere promises that it wouldn't hurt, only that the priest wouldn't suffer any long term effects.  She felt guilty, but convinced herself it was all for the best.  This all could have all been avoided if only Kevin hadn't been so damned pig-headed.  So intent on being the big hero that he couldn't see the idea had disaster written all over it.

             She and Beckett and gone round and round over the best way to handle Kevin's lack of reason, though they both had agreed that there was no way the priest should mix himself up in fairy magic.  Neither she nor the Sheriff put much stock in any platitudes about the afterlife, and the thought of losing something you didn't believed existed wasn't much of a sacrifice.  But Kevin did.  He truly and completely did, and though he might be commended for risking it all for the safety of his sister, the consequences of self doubt would eventually destroy all he held dear.

              It was Kevin's belief, and the fact he was still clumping around in that casted foot, that had brought them to this point.  She had kept entirely to herself these past few hours, worried something in her face would give the plan away.  As per Beckett's instructions, she had put together an outfit similar to the ones they'd created for the men.  He had insisted that for her own safety she travel as an adolescent male, and though her features were on the soft side, she discovered she made a passable boy.  The plan called for her to sneak into the rectory through the kitchen door, and stay put until Beckett signaled for her to show herself.  The sound of Kevin hitting the floor meant she didn't have long to wait.
_____________________________________________

           She Who Was All fluttered off the mantle, positioning herself on Beckett's left shoulder. "Tell me, Ridire Dubh.   Who will travel with you?  You have a different plan?"

           "Aye, Your Majesty.  The Churchman is not suitable for the task at hand.  I plead to take another in his place.  Under the same terms, of course."

            She gave his earlobe a pinch, her tiny rosebud mouth turned down in a pout.  "The terms be whatever I say they be, Mortal.  I will decide what shall be, and what shall not.   Explain yourself, Ridire Dubh."

            He sure as hell hoped that Roxie had not gotten cold feet, and that she was in the kitchen as they had planned.  As much as he liked to work alone, a successful conclusion required exact knowledge of the spot that was Maureen's ticket home, and it made no sense to waste time experimenting when someone with that information could close the deal.  He hadn't been surprised when his newest deputy had volunteered to take Kevin's place.  Her affection for his brother-in-law was obvious to anyone with a half a brain, and in her, he saw the same need for adventure, for risk, that he saw in himself.  Granted she was untrained, but she had that that in bred sense that allowed her to simply follow orders, and for a mission like this, that's all that mattered.

             Beckett put two fingers in his mouth, and gave a low whistle.  Deputy Spinelli made her way from the kitchen into the parlor, and even he gave her a double look.  Gone was the attractive, shapely brunette, who once made her living as an exotic dancer.  In its place was an awkward teenage boy,  dressed in clothing from the Revolutionary period, a short queue peeking out from under his tricorn hat, and a rusty old knife strapped to his waist.

              She glanced around the room, catching sight of Kevin, out cold, propped against the sofa  "Is he all right?"

             "He'll be fine.  Probably have a nasty headache for a few hours, but nothing permanent."

             She nodded, and then added, "Are 'They' here?  The Fey?"

              "They are.  Your Majesty...may I present Miss Roxanne Spinelli.   It is she I wish to take along."

               Not knowing where to look, or how to act, Roxanne bowed low at the waist, hoping she wasn't breaking any Fey protocol.

                 She Who Was All  left Beckett's shoulder, circling Roxanne, and giving her tiny pony tail a tug.   "A female, Ridire Dubh?  Dressed as a boy?  Quite silly I say, Black Knight.  But clever."  She flew back to the mantle, and once again took her favorite spot among the Apostles.  "I will do as you ask.  But again I warn you...the spell will last only until the rising of a full Lady Moon.  You both will return, and things will be as we have discussed.  I make no promises to your success. That be up to you. " She stood and came to the edge of the mantle, spreading her luminous wings behind her.  "Let us begin then, before the Churchman awakens.  I do not relish being a witness to his discontent.  Come stand together and join left hands, the amulet between your palms.  Then lash them together tightly."

                They did as she asked, and feeling the shake in Roxie's hands, Beckett added, "No worries, Deputy.  We'll be fine.  I promise."

                Seeing they were secured, She Who Was All closed her eyes, and began her incantation, heard only by Brian, who cowered under the sofa next to Kevin, and Beckett, whose blues eyes, intense and focused, locked those of Roxanne.  Roxanne held onto the gaze, praying for a soul she was pretty sure she didn't posses, and placing her life in the hands of a man she really didn't know.

                "Chi fey sonne bace.  Indula tres bosha.  Impagio furetna.  Shema condonna.  Alve alve!"

                The lighting in the room dimmed, despite the fact that the sun poured through the parlor windows, and the amulet between their palms grow warm.  Roxanne tried not to tremble, but the shake seemed involuntary, as Beckett's own arm began to move as witness.  A dense fog began to gather at their feet, and as the Fairy Queen repeated the words, it grew thicker and taller until it completely engulfed them.  "Chi fey sonne bace.  Indula tres bosha.  Impagio furetna.  Shema condonna.  Alve alve!"

                 At the third repetition, there was a crack of thunder, seemingly from somewhere inside the fog, and when the air cleared, the space where  the two mortals stood was empty.  She Who Was All clapped her hands in delight.  "See Clurichaun...I still have the power.  You'd be wise to remember that, old one."  And with a snap of her wings she was gone, leaving him alone with the unconscious priest.

________________________________

              It was an overwhelming need to throw up that woke him.  His eyes snapped open, and he could feel the burning bile rise up in his throat.  He started to try and lift from the floor, but instead found himself unable to get his feet under him.  It was Brian who encouraged him to remain seated, standing as he was next to him, a kitchen dish pan dropped in his lap.

             "Best you stay put, laddie.  Me thinks you might be needin' to make a deposit in the dish."

              There was no time to answer, as the little bit of food he'd managed to get down earlier in the day made a repeat appearance.  His focus was trained on the gagging and choking, and it was a few minutes before his brain registered the awful facts.  Head pounding, he leaned against he sofa and looked around the parlor.  It was empty.  No Beckett.  No Fairy Queen.  The grandfather clock behind him chimed 6:00 PM, and the realization that he had been found unworthy and left behind hit him like a wooden mallet straight to the heart.


Copyright Victoria T. Rocus 2015
All Rights Reserved

         

         

     

           


         

           

The Black Knight (Ridire Dubh)

    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.

Thank You,

The Author

   
 

The woman who is not Maureen, (Mrs. Rachel Walker Revere) waits for plans to help her get back home

       "You're being an ass, O'Kenney!  Try being objective about this."

        He watched his brother-in-law punctuate his emotions with a long handled knife, slashing at the pizza with almost scary precision.  Despite the gravity of the situation, his mouth watered at the aroma, and the thought crossed his mind that this might be the last slice of D'Angelo's thin crust he'd ever consume.  Fr. Kevin wiped the niggling worry from his head, and passed a slice to Roxanne on his left, and to Mrs. Revere on his right.  Everything would be fine.  He and Beckett would use the fairy spell to reach Maureen, guide her to the spot in the bank, and then return home themselves.  Easy as...well...pizza pie.
 
        Waiting until Ted's mouth was full, he responded, "Look, I know you think you can handle this all on your own.  But the watch is very specific on where you need to be to travel.  I've been there.  Twice.  I know exactly where it is.  You need me.  Besides, she's my sister, and it's my fault this happened.  If anyone needs to take a risk, it's gonna be me."

          "I'm with the Sheriff on this one, Kev.  What if everything that fairy queen person says is true?  About the soul part?  How are you going to live with yourself if it really happens?  You, of all people, who's built his life on things of a...a spiritual nature?"

           Her pity annoyed him.  Why would she take Beckett's side?  She was supposed to be his friend.  Roxie knew how much his sister meant to him.  Didn't she think he was capable of making up his own mind?  Her disloyalty cut deep, and though it was childish, he turned his back to her, and didn't answer.

          "Use your brain, O'Kenney, and listen to Roxanne.  Even if I did believe in all this soul shit...and let me make this clear...I don't...the fact remains that you DO believe it.  You've created a purpose for yourself in doing just that.  If you go ahead with this, you're always going to have doubts over whether you're the same person you were before it all happened.  It'll eat at you forever.  And frankly, I can't see you "faking" your role as a priest."  He pointed to their wedding photo behind him, distinguishing between the woman who sat at the table examining her piece of pizza, and the "real" Maureen. "If Mo were here right now, she'd say the same thing to you.  The last thing she'd want is for you to give up your vocation...any part of it...for her."

         Next to him, Mrs. Revere laid a hand on his arm, staring at him from Maureen's face. "If it is any consolation, Reverend, I believe your friends make a most compelling argument. ' Tis most unseemly...unholy, in fact... for a man in the Lord's service to be partaking in things that deal with the fairy magic.  I want nothing as much as to return to my beloved husband and children.  But as a good Christian woman, I can not allow you to sacrifice any part of your consecrated soul on my behalf, though I am very grateful for the offer.  I will turn my trust to God to make thing right as He sees fit."

         It was like he was a kid again, at home, surrounded by his brothers,  all of them taking sides against him.  Old habits die hard, and a wall of resentment and hurt stalled further logical consideration on the subject.  How dare any of them decide what was best for him?  He was an adult, perfectly capable of making decisions for himself.  "Look people...I don't need your sanctimonious suggestions on my behalf.  I will do as I see fit."  He turned and looked both Beckett and Roxanne in the eye.  "I don't go around telling you people how to live your messy, ugly lives, so keep your damn opinions to yourself about mine."

          Roxanne turned a deep shade of pink, and looked away, and Kevin felt a biting stab of guilt over hurting her.  He had always been careful not to bring up the awful things in her life that seemed to haunt her, and he knew she was taking his comment personally.  On the other hand, his brother-in-law smirked back at him, and in an instant, he was able to predict the words before they left Beckett's mouth.

        "Now, Father O'Kenney, we both know that statement is far from true."  He stressed the word "Father", lingering over it in obvious sarcasm.  "As I recall, you most certainly DID tell me how to live my life.  Insisted...no blackmailed me...into doing it your way.  That little piece of advice cost me six weeks apart from my wife, at a time when I should have been at her side.  Damn well nearly drove a permanent wedge between us.  And now you have the balls to sit at my table and tell ME to mind my own business?"

           At the graphic nature of his words, Mrs. Revere blushed, causing Beckett to reign in his temper. "Please excuse my un-delicate choice of words, Madame.  I mean no disrespect in the presence of a lady."  Then seeing Roxanne's face, quickly added, "Ladies.  I apologize for my lack of manners.  It is just that the good Reverend's hypocrisy causes me utter frustration."

          Fr. Kevin could contain himself no longer.  He jumped from his seat, slamming the chair against the table with a resounding thud.  "You can stick that hypocrisy in your ass, Sheriff!  The trouble between you and Maureen rests solely on your shoulders alone.  I just made sure you weren't going to continue to make a fool out of my sister, even put her at serious risk, any longer."

          Beckett remained in his chair, but his demeanor was icy, and his face deadly calm.  "Put her at serious risk, you say?  How?  Like you've done in this situation? Be careful where you tread with this line of conversation, Reverend, or I might just forget you are my wife's brother."

          It was ironically the passive Mrs. Revere who put a pin in their ballooning anger.  "Gentlemen...please!  This is not helping with the task at hand.  I neither deserve, nor am interested in, the sordid details of your ongoing feud, though it is quite clear the two of you have unfinished business.  If we are to rectify the turn of events, then we need to stop bickering amongst ourselves, and work together to return myself and your loved one to their rightful places."  She lost her composure, and began to sniffle.  "I must rely on your goodwill...your sense of commitment... if I am ever to see my family again."

          Even Beckett had the courtesy to look slightly sheepish.  "I beg your pardon, Madame.  You are most correct.  This is not the time to air our family's dirty laundry.  We have approximately eight hours to prepare for our destination.  There is little time to waste arguing about things that can't be changed."
He held up both hands in a sign of surrender.  "Fr. O'Kenney...if you wish to sacrifice part of your 'immortal' soul in the rescue of your sister, then whom am I to sit here and argue with you.  Do as you wish...and I will do the same."
______________________________________

           It was half past four, and still there was no sign of She Who Was All.  The three of them, he, Beckett and Brian, had assembled over an hour ago in the rectory parlor as they had been told to do the day before.  It was as strange a sight as Kevin could ever remember seeing, as if the musical 1776 were being staged in his very living room.  At the direction of Mrs. Revere, closet finds and thrift store purchases were altered to fit the style of her time. She had fashioned breeches for them both from loose fitting pants, while Roxanne had scoured every resale shop in Dollyville for suitable cotton shirts, broadcloth vests, and tailored coats acceptable during the Revolutionary period.  Beckett had been able to procure an antique musket in mint condition from a local gun collector, though Kevin had blanched at the price he had paid for it.

               That was not to say that the Sheriff was going without the benefit of modern weaponry.  He wore his shoulder holster under his jacket, outfitted with his favorite Walther PPK, 7.65mm.  Try as they might, it was impossible to hide his ankle holster in any way it was not visible, so after much grumbling, he gave up the idea of using one, instead settling on a small Ruger in the back of his waistband, and a very scary looking knife that disappeared somewhere into his clothing.

                They each wore cotton stockings to the knee, and tricorn hats purchased from a neighborhood costume store that catered to local theater groups.  When finished, they made a pretty convincing pair of  men in His Majesty's colonies.  It secretly galled him, however, that while he appeared gawky and uncomfortable in his outfit, Beckett looked rather dashing in his, if the reaction of both women were to be trusted.  The Sheriff's jacket was a dusty blue gray color, which according to Mrs. Revere, brought out the blue of his eyes, while his was a plain brown weave the color of muddy water  He wondered if the homely jacket wasn't pay back from Roxie, who had done all the shopping, in exchange for the hurtful comments he made the night before.  It was a ridiculous notion to think about, so instead, he paced the length of the room, traveling in round circles, and reviewing the long inventory of items that needed attention before he left.

           He was able to contact an old friend from seminary school to come stay at Holy Family for the eight days he planned on being away.  Fr. Joe Campbell taught at Boston College during the fall and spring semesters, and was currently without a permanent parish, so the chance to play Pastor appealed to the man.  He was delighted to take over the morning Masses, and even the youth group meeting and scheduled Confessions.  It had also been decided that Mrs. Revere would fake a badly sprained ankle that required rest for a week or so, keeping her out of the public eye.  Although she looked like the Mrs. Beckett everyone in the community knew and loved, her body language and speech pattern would seem odd, and it was best for her to limit her contact with the people of Dollyville.

        It was the way things were between he and Roxanne that bothered him the most.  He knew he had hurt her feelings, but she usually just told him off, and then was fine.  This was different.  She had gone out of her way to avoid him, leaving the room when he walked in, and working at never looking him in the eye.  It was very unlike her, and it worried him, especially as he was wasn't sure how this all would end.  She hadn't even come to see them off, or wish them luck.  The whole thing had a bad feel to it.

                "Aye, laddie...halt your meanderin'...you be makin' me dizzy.  She will come when She sees fit, and not a moment sooner.  Though there still be time to change your mind."

                "Enough, Brian.  You said you'd support me, and I'm holding you to that.  I have to do this, whatever the consequences."

                "It's your no understandin' of those consequences, I worry to.  This be no bedtime story, laddie.  There often be no happily ever after.  I canna change what has been done."

                "I don't need your help on this, Brian, though I appreciate your concern.  Just let me do what's gotta be done."

                 The wee man looked first to him, and then to Beckett, shaking his head, and falling silent.  He took a seat near the hearth, his face gloomy, and his mind lost in thought.  The three of them continued this way for several minutes, until a low buzzing sound filled the room, followed by an over powering smell of summer roses.  A small ball of light floated above the fireplace, and came to rest in her favorite spot on the mantle.

                 She Who Was All settled herself down, fluttering her wings, then pulling them tightly behind her back.  Her attention rested on Beckett, and she smiled at him, though her expression held little warmth.  "I see you have returned, Ridire Dubh...and you as well, Churchman.  I mean this to understand you plan on proceeding with this little adventure?"

                Beckett moved closer to the mantle, and smiled back at the little fairy, flirting with her as if she were simply one of the many women taken with his good looks.  "I am more than ready to continue, Your Majesty."  He removed his hat, and bowed low in front of her.

                 She laughed, swiping a candlestick off the mantle, and catching him in the back of the head. "You think to use that pretty face on me, Ridire Dubh.  You are quite naive, mortal, though you would cause quite the stir at court.  Of that I am certain.  But it is for what's inside your heart I make this deal.  I have grand use for one of your continence.  So if you are sure, then we may proceed."

                  She snapped her fingers, and a long parchment scroll and a feather pen appeared to her left.  "This be a contract between mortal and fey.  Once entered upon, it can not be undone.  For my help in breaking the bonds of time, this mortal Black Knight binds himself to my complete service for a period lasting until the birth of his first son.  Do you agree to all stated, Ridre Dubh?"

                      "I do, Your Majesty."

                      The pen appeared in Beckett's hand.  "Then sign at the bottom of this contract, in the blood of a young swan, and it shall be as promised."

                      Things were moving quickly, and Kevin began to panic.  The Fairy Queen had spoken not a word to him, ignoring him completely.  There was no way Beckett was cutting him out of this deal, and so he spoke up.  "Your Majesty, what about me?  Where do I need to sign?"

                       She looked him over, and sighed.  "I have no use for you, Churchman.  You can offer nothing I need."

                        His anxiety rising, he countered, "But yesterday...you...you said I could go?"

                        "Silence, Fear Seipeal Dearg!  Stop your whimpering!  If you still wish to benefit from the use of dark magic, I will not stop you.  It is of your own free will that you use this spell to meet your needs.  The Ridire Dubh's commitment pays for both of your passage.  But know this Churchman...it will be as I have said.  You will surely lose a part of your immortal soul, that which can not be undone.  It is the way of all things dark.  Be forewarned."

              Fr. Kevin watched as Beckett signed his name to the strange document, the red of the ink glistening wet on the paper, the thought that it contained the blood of some poor bird making him queasy.  When he was done, the pen and the paper disappeared in a puff of smoke, replaced by a stone amulet of some kind in his brother-in-law's hand.

              "Then we shall begin.  You must hold the stone together, your hands bound by this cord."  She snapped again, and across the same palm, lay a long length of leather string. "There are rules for the breaking of time.  As I have stated, you have until Lady Moon comes to her fulfilment of time.  After that, the spell will be broken, and you will return to this very spot, whether or not you have completed your quest.  You are warned firmly not to meddle in the way of things.  Each stone you turn, each life you touch, will have ripple effects.  Some ripples are meaningless, other bear huge consequences.  Do what needs to be done quickly, and with as little fuss as possible.  Do I make myself clear to you?"

                   They both nodded their heads, and weird sense of calm filled Kevin's mind.  They would have Maureen soon.  Safe and sound.  It all would work out.  He was sure of it.

              She Who was All stood up on delicate feet, her wings now feathered out behind her in full regalia.  "Are you ready for your journey to begin?"

               Beckett stood in front of Kevin and took hold of his right hand, posing as if he intended to lash them together.  "We are, Your Majesty...expect for one last thing..."

               Kevin never saw it coming.  The punch came from nowhere, catching him hard across the left temple.  He blinked twice, confusion filling his mind before everything went black.

______________________________

              Beckett pulled the unconscious priest across the room, propping him up against the sofa where Brian had perched himself.  "You'll make sure he's alright?"

              "Aye.  He be fine in time, though not much happy."

              "It can't be helped.  You and I both agreed he shouldn't do this."

              "I do not disagree with our decision,  Ridire Dubh, though still I trust you not."

              Pulling his jacket back in place, Ted ignored the little man, and came in stood in front of She Who Was All.  "I apologize for the delay, your Majesty.  A change of plans."

                "Well played, my Knight.  The Churchman is no asset, though I do find your concern over his soul...interesting.  Know this Dark One, your loyalty is mine now.  Mine alone."

                "I understand completely.  I gave you my word."

                She clapped her tiny hands in delight, the sound oddly echoing in the small room. "Excellent answer, mortal.  I am glad we agree, Ridire Dubh.  Most pleased."   The Fairy Queen ran a hand over Beckett's cheek, then gave it a sharp pinch.  "Shall you travel alone now?"

                "Actually your Majesty...if it please you...I'd like to take another in the Churchman's place."

Beckett holds the amulet

Copyright 2015 Victoria T. Rocus
All Rights Reserved

           

                   

               

               

Tightening the Terms

            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.

Thank You,

The Author

Brian explains Fey protocol to She Who Is All

       If Beckett was shocked at the unusual demand, there was nothing in his expression or body language to show it.  Instead, he leaned against the fireplace, and stuck his his hands in his pocket.
"And if I do this...sign myself over to you...you'll get Maureen back?"

       The wings fluttered again, ever so lightly, though there was no wind in the room.  "That I did not say, Croi Diamhair.  I grow weary of repeating myself.   It is you I can send, through space and time, and return you once again.  Not so the girl.  She must have the key, and unlock the door.  As I have already explained, the spell she is under can not be broken.  But if you know where the door can be found, and if she has the watch in hand, you can direct her through it.  She will return, in her natural form, to the life she knew before, and you can then follow her back."

        During the entire conversation, Fr. Kevin sat in mental battle.  It was the answer to their prayers.  Maureen back, safe and sound, in her God given form.  Rachel Revere once again home with her children.  But at what cost?  Beckett would be doomed forever, under the thumb of the Fey world's most powerful citizen, and at her immortal mercy.  He knew just enough of fairy history to fully understand exactly what that meant, but he was doubtful his brother-in-law did.  He couldn't, in good conscience, let him make that sacrifice. Not without knowing the consequences. They would have to find another way.  The Sheriff opened his mouth to agree, but Kevin was out of his chair, and across the room, covering Beckett's mouth with his palm.

        "You can't do this, Ted!  You don't know what you're agreeing to!  If you accept her proposition, you will be forever trapped in the Fey world, belonging neither there, or here.   I can't let you do that.  Maureen herself would never forgive me.  She'd be back home, but you'd be gone from her for..." He never got to finish his sentence.  His lips moved, but no sound came from them.  In addition, the soles of his feet began to burn, and he was forced to tear at his shoes and socks to seek relief.

        She Who Was All clapped her hands and giggled in amused delight, as the priest hopped about the room in obvious distress.  She pointed a a tiny finger at Brian, who up to this point, had offered no dialogue.  "See, Old One, how your Church Man dances?  We shall invite him to our next fairy ring.  He will make my sisters laugh and laugh."

       The little man was gone from his spot in an instant, suddenly next to the queen on the mantle, and though both knees shook as he spoke, he forced the words out with a firm sense of valor.  "Your Majesty.  The Church Man is correct.  You must disclose... without falsehood...all terms of your dealings with mortals.  It is our way according to She Who Was Before."

         The fairy narrowed her eyes at the clurichaun, and a heavy mist began to rise from all four corners of the room.  Fr. Kevin stopped his frantic hopping, intent on the scene unfolding before him, and even Beckett took a short step away from the two.

          "You dare question me, Old One?  Know you not that I am She Who Is All?  I can banish you to the bowels of the Earth, where you will spend your last days in suffocating blackness!  Cut off from the life blood of the Creator.  Is that what you want?"

           Tears gathered in the corners of his purple eyes, and his shaking was strong enough to rattle the candle sticks on the mantle.  Still he held his ground.  "That is not what I want, your Majesty.  But I vowed to honor the ways of our people.  Those laws set down by your own honored mother at our last Gathering.  I must stand for what is right, your Majesty.  The law states you must disclose all when making exchanges with mortals."

          With a gale of wind, the clurichaun was blown of the fireplace, landing several feet away, and hitting Kevin's desk with a thump.  The little man groaned, but got straight to his feet.

           "I will do as I please, Old One.  I am She Who Is All."

           "Then you bring shame to your house, your Majesty.  Do as you wish to me, but you know I speak the truth."

            The Fairy Queen looked about, her eyes holding the fury in her heart.  She pounded at the plaster statue of the Last Supper, beating at the heads of the frozen apostles in sheer frustration.  When she was spent, she sat herself on the edge of the mantle, and drew the rest of the room to a spot in front of her.  "Very well, Old One.  It shall be as you say.  I will disclose all the terms of my offering."  She pointed a finger at each of them.  "Know this...I will offer only once, and then I shall be gone.  Do not call me again under the threat of my fury."

             It was Beckett who spoke for the group.  "I am listening, your Majesty.  What are the terms?"

             The little fairy smiled, pointed tiny teeth like little pearls in her mouth.  Her whole body seemed to shimmer, and there was the sweet smell of May lilacs in the room.  She crossed her legs daintily at the ankles, fluffed out the dress around her, and addressed Ted in liquid voice.  "I offer you the following...gift, Black Heart.  I shall cast a spell and grace you with a talisman that allows you the power to break the bonds of time and space.  It shall bring you to the side of your beloved's soul.  She will not be in her given form, so you must recognize her on your own.  Do you understand that?"

              Beckett nodded.  "I do your majesty.  I will be able to find her in her new form.  What else?"

              She pouted.  "You are very blunt, Mortal.  It hides your charm." She studied him for a moment, then added, "It will be up to you to help your lassie find the door that brings her back.  Once she has stepped through, you can use the talisman to return back yourself.  It is all verra simple."

              Feeling brave in the moment, Brian interjected, "You must explain about the dark magic, your Majesty.  All of it.  These mortals hold much stock in the state of their soul."

             She Who Was All tisked, her lips smacking against the pearly teeth  "You grow tiresome, clurichaun.  I miss the days when your people were full of mischief.  These new times are most dull." She sighed, "Very well...there are things the Old One wants me to reveal.  The spell I use is a dark one.  All magic comes at a price, and dark magic is costly.  If you use the spell and talisman to break the time bonds, you blacken a part of your immortal soul.  Not the whole thing...just a wee bit.  But it is irreversible, and lost to you forever.  Payment for your granted wish."

                Fr. Kevin looked at Beckett in shock, but before he could add to the conversation, the Sheriff waved him off.  "That is of no consequence to me.  Is there anything else I should know?"

            "Of course, my Impatient One.  Like all spells, there is a limit to its fruitfulness."

            "You mean...like a time limit?"

            "Aye.  A time limit."

            "How long do I have?"

            "It will depend on when the spell is cast.  It has strength until Lady Moon comes to term, round and white and bursting with life.  At her labor, the spell evaporates."

             He pondered her words, trying to make 21st Century sense of the unbelievable.  "So, you mean until the full moon?  We have until the full moon rises?"

            "You are correct, Croi Diamhair."

             Both Beckett and Fr. Kevin reached for their cell phones at the same time, frantically tapping at the screen, the Sheriff retrieving the information first.  "That's in nine days.  We have nine days to get to Maureen, and bring her back."

               "Actually eight, mortal, as it will take me a full setting and rising of the sun to prepare the spell.  I can send you on the morrow at this very time...if that is what is agreed upon."

              "It sounds as you have what I need, Lady Queen.  And you require me in exchange?"

              "Aye, Croi Diamhair.  I require you.  But not in the way the Church Man fears.  I have no use  for you among the Fey, though I will admit are a pretty man.  My need of you is where you can serve me the best...among your own kind.  You have a black heart, mortal, thoroughly lacking in general conscience.  It is that which I need.  A champion in my service among those who would do me harm.  A Ridire Dubh, of sorts.  I have enemies among mortal man."

             "And what would I need to do?"

              "Whatever I require, Ridire Dubh.  We both know there are no boundaries you will not cross to follow orders.  It is who you are.  What you are.  It would serve me well."

              "And the length of my service, Your Majesty?  How long will you require my services?"

              "Come now, Dubh, we...you and I... understand the way of things.  Once in, never out.  But the Old One will insist on proper protocol.  So we will set terms.  What say you to this...you will serve as Ridire Dubh, my Black Knight, until the birth of your first born son?  Upon your heir's birth, the debt is paid."

              Beckett's reaction was so slight, it might have gone unnoticed if Fr. Kevin hadn't been so focused on the man's face during the discussion.  At the mention of a son, his brother-in-law grimaced, a slight intake of breath, and it was gone.  Beckett had never shared his grief, never opened up to him on on the tremendous loss he and Maureen had experienced, though he had tried to start the conversation a multitude of times.  But it had been there in that moment, real and deep, a wound not yet healed.

            Despite the glimmer of grief, there was little hesitation on the Sheriff's part.  He had no care of his soul, fully believing it had been lost years ago.  And the work she required of him was already part of his nature, every bloody, immoral bit of it.  It seemed like a small price to pay for the return of Maureen.  "I accept, your Majesty.  Fully and unconditionally."

            Fr. Kevin leapt from his chair, and Beckett expected a full blown sermon aimed at changing his mind.   But what followed shocked even his jaded view of the world as it was.

             "Your Majesty, I would like the same deal.   Same as Beckett's.  I need to go with him to find my sister."

             "I don't need your help, Kevin.  Just let me take care of this on my own.  She's my wife."

             "And she's my sister!  Plus, I have first hand knowledge of where the watch opens the door.  I've been there.   Been through the experience.  You need me."

              "Just explain to me where to go, and I'll handle the rest.  You're not cut out for this, O'Kenney."

               "You're wrong, Ted!  I've done this before.  You haven't.  I can help."

               She Who Was All waved her hands across the two, and they instantly silenced.  "Silence, you arguing dogs!  It is at my will the contract is offered, and I will decide the writing of it."  She turned toward Kevin, the smile gone, and her growing irritation apparent.  "I have no use of you, Fear Seipeal Dearg.  You are the Old One's pet.  And what of the part of your soul that you will loose in this attempt?  Do you not fear over what your heart holds dearest?  Surely your soul is worth more than this?"

              "I am willing to sacrifice that part of me if it means my sister's safe return.  I can help.  I know I can."

              "You have nothing to offer me in return, Churchman."

              "Surely your Majesty has enemies among the clergy.  I can be useful.  I can"

              "And you are willing to shake all you believe, all you have held dear... in my aid?"

              "I won't have to shake my belief, your Majesty.  I can work around it.  I'm good at thinking outside the box.  Of finding alternatives.  Ask anyone."

               The Fairy Queen stared at both men, shaking her head and making grinding noises with her teeth.   The seconds clicked by on the grandfather clock in the corner of the rectory parlor, the noise crazy loud in the silence of the room.  Then, with a nod of her head, she was airborne.  "I shall agree to the terms discussed in this room.  Return on the morrow to this very place.  I will bring the contract with me.  Once signed, the spell will be woven as you ask."

Fr. Kevin pleads his case with the Fairy Queen

Copyright 2015 Victoria T. Rocus
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