Alainn found herself nearing the docks once more. She had spent most of the day wandering aimlessly through the streets, so deep in thought she seemed scarcely aware of the people and noise, the clamber of the city around her.
The day had grown late when she glanced at the skyline; the golden-red ball was sinking low over the western horizon. She walked along the beach, allowing herself time to gaze at the tranquil beauty of the sunset. Water quietly brushed her bare feet, grazed her ankles, the cool waves trying to still the tumultuousness within her.
It was then that Alainn felt the presence. It made her skin prickle, the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She was not alone. But as she glanced around, she could see no one near. Fishing vessels were pulling into harbor and several people remained on the nearby docks. The presence was surely not human. It was liken to what she had experienced in the dungeon of Castle O’Brien.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her abilities. When Alainn was a child, increasingly disturbed by the presence of the many spirits around her, she had learned how to block the other world. The spirits were no longer visible to her unless she allowed herself to see them. She took another deep breath and opened her eyes.
An elderly spectral couple strolling hand in hand smiled warmly at Alainn. A young woman sat on a large rock, weeping mournfully, silver tears pouring down her pale ghostly face as she waited for her lover to come back. Alainn knew without question that he had met his fate on a downed ship and the weeping woman had walked out into the depths to join him. She wondered why they were not together in the afterlife. Sometimes death was no more fair than life.
Alainn spotted another young spirit sitting on the sand with her knees pulled up to her chest. She moved nearer, feeling drawn to her. The girl spoke without looking up.
“You should not be here, ’tis not safe.”
“This is where you met your fate?”
“Aye, I was murdered on this very spot, not by a sailor filled with too much drink or a lustful suitor, but by my very own father. I intended to marry a man not of his choosing, and so he chose to end my life. You must leave this place now, young witch. There is no time to waste.”
“Who is it I should be fearful of?”
“No one you can see,” the spirit answered ominously.
The damp air grew cold, and the sun disappeared from sight. Alainn moved quickly onto the docks but felt no safer in the presence of the men. A few looked at her suspiciously, the odd one lasciviously, and she pulled the hood of her cloak over her unbound hair. The chill within her grew.
For as long as Alainn could remember, she’d had the ability to detect auras. She could see a colored glow surrounding each person, could often detect what lay within their souls. She had only ever known two people with unusually dark auras. One was Richard McGilvary, the steward’s son. He had been a horrid child and was now a loathsome young man. He tortured animals, and violated and abused many women. Killian had nearly beaten him to death on more than one occasion for his unconscionable acts. He did not yet know that Richard and his older brother, Henry, had tried to rape her and nearly succeeded.
If not for Pierce’s protection and her own magic, they may well have accomplished the feat that was ordered, she later learned, by Chieftain O’Brien himself. However, they were more than pleased to oblige him. Henry was a very nasty sort, but Alainn thought Richard harbored within him a depth of malevolence that was purely evil.
The other dark soul was the chieftain’s priest. She had felt great unease ever since she was a child because of his ever-darkening aura.
Morag, the old wise woman who raised her, had talked of dark spirits and creatures more menacing than the spirits. Humans who delved into the black arts who dared conjure demons and creatures from the Unseelie Court, the realm of evil that lives between worlds. It could be in part why Morag had always tried to have Alainn keep her powers at bay, lest someone with malevolent intentions learned of them.
The fairies in the glade had also warned her of entities filled with abhorrent darkness, those who enforced their powers with evil. Alainn shivered again and picked up her pace until she was nearly running.
“Young and powerful witch, come to me, reveal your many powers!” She gasped, for the voice was speaking inside her head. Then, the words of old Morag filled her mind.
“When darkness approaches and threatens, do not simply call upon your powers. Face your fear and create your own light. Let only goodness shine through.”
Alainn stopped running, inhaled several slow deep breaths, and imagined herself sitting in the tiny chapel of Castle O’Brien. She pictured the holiness of the place, the innocence and sweetness of newborn babies, the warmth of kittens and lambs, the soothing beauty of Irish harps, the goodness of Lady Siobhan, the power of the many glade fairies, and the strength of Morag. She envisioned sunlight pouring through the windows of the chapel and at once she could feel warmth and light radiating from within her, swirling around her, surrounding her in its ethereal glow. She looked down and could see light shining through her. The darkness shrank back and receded entirely, but not before she heard the unearthly voice once more.
“One day, we will meet again, young witch. I shall learn what great powers you possess and take them for my own!”