“Just a minute!” called Oscar as he dried his hands on a dish towel when a visitor knocked on the front door. He threw the towel onto the counter, something that always bothered his late wife, and he hustled to the door and opened it.
“Charlie? What are you doing here?” asked Oscar with genuine surprise.
“What, a friend can’t stop in for a visit?” Charlie joked. “You did invite me after all, unless you were just being polite.”
Oscar shook his head. “No, of course, come in.”
Charlie stepped past Oscar and patted him on the shoulder as he walked in and took stock of the place. “You have a nice home here, Oscar.”
“Thanks.” Oscar motioned to the kitchen. “Let’s go to the kitchen. Coffee? Tea? Soda?”
Charlie followed his gracious host into the kitchen and sat on the high stool next to the counter. “Tea would be lovely. Thank you.”
…
Oscar remembered that much of the encounter, the rest he assumed he had dreamt. He awoke in his recliner with the television tuned to the Shopping Station and the newspaper draped across his chest. He was thirsty, so he made to get to his feet but found that he was incredibly sore, and his clothes were soiled with a red, rusty dust. He slapped at his pant legs and huge puffs of dust wafted into the air. He coughed and staggered into the kitchen. Some of Lizzie’s school supplies were on the kitchen table and he snatched up a spiral notebook and a pen and made for the door. Sullivan’s Brewhouse was only a few blocks away, and Oscar needed the walk to clear his head.
He walked in and took a seat at the bar, ignoring the stares he received as a result of his appearance. He ordered whatever was on tap, a burger and fries, and then he cracked open the notebook. His mind was cluttered, and it was hard to make heads or tails of what he was seeing in his mind’s eye. He wrote furiously, and by the time he had finished his meal and his written record, it was dark outside. He reread some of what he wrote, but none of it made sense.
“Something wrong, Oscar?” Simon the bartender inquired.
“Not sure.” Oscar took a last sip and set the glass back down on the table. “Could be that I’m going crazy.”
Simon shrugged. “Who ain’t going crazy?”
Oscar paid his tab and ambled home. His legs carried him as far as his bed and that was where he fell, face-first. Visions of flying traced pathways through his dreams.
…
Syracuse was a noticeably beautiful and scenic university. Brendan had thought so during his visit and he thought so again when he pulled up to the house he was going to be residing in for the next four years. The Celtic Heritage House guys were a rambunctious bunch, which caused a little hesitancy on Brendan’s part prior to joining, but many of his teammates belonged to the group, so he figured that it couldn’t be that bad. Besides that, he could bring his car if he joined, and that was a welcomed idea.
He had just happened upon the Celtic Heritage House on his last visit when he got to speak with some of his teammates. The guy had explained that the CHH was a Celtic-themed place, but it was really open and nondiscriminatory about who got to apply and live there. It was sort of like the idea that on St. Patrick’s Day everyone is Irish and that made Brendan a little more comfortable since he didn’t want to live in a place that excluded others. The weird part was that when he visited the place it felt like a perfect fit. Something about it called to him, like he was supposed to find the house.
Once he got there, Brendan was counting on all of the normal shenanigans that college guys did, but he also knew that he was there for a reason. He was going to be a doctor. He had already seen enough violence and bloodshed during his quest last summer to last him a lifetime, so in his mind becoming a doctor would be at the total opposite end of the spectrum.
He pulled his car into the parking lot and parked next to a silver Infiniti IPL G convertible. It was a stunning car that carried a hefty price tag. His old Ford Taurus looked like spare parts rather than an automobile next to it. He had no idea whose car it was, but dread crept into his mind at having to meet him.
He locked his possessions in his car and walked up the path to the front door. He didn’t know whether to knock or just walk in. He weighed the options and then decided to knock. It took a few minutes for anyone to answer, but when he did, Brendan nearly punched him in the face.
“Whoa, bro! Take it easy,” begged the guy in the bull mask who answered the door. “It’s just tradition to greet the newbies with the sacred mascot of the CHH.”
Brendan’s heart slowed and he lowered his fists. He hoped that the masked guy didn’t notice the silver glow that overtook his hands in that briefest of moments.
“Sorry,” laughed Brendan. “I’m just not used to seeing a bull-man.” A headless guy, a fairy, and a mermaid… yes… bull-people… no, he mused to himself.
The kid peeled the mask off and wiped his hair out of his face. “I’m Ken.”
Brendan introduced himself and was led into the living room. Ken was his guide. He showed Brendan the ins and outs of all the rooms and introduced him to too many people all at the same time. Brendan recognized a few of his teammates, but he still didn’t know anyone’s name but Ken’s.
“And here’s where you will be staying,” Ken announced as they entered a third-floor bedroom. “You can take that bed by the window.”
“Thanks.”
Brendan took it all in. He took in the tiny room that would sleep two. There was one window with a filthy screen, two chests, and one closet. His roommate did not appear to be particularly neat. Laundry, books, shoes, and various other items that were hard to identify were thrown everywhere.
“Not very much space, but not bad either,” Brendan offered. “When do I get to meet my roommate?”
“You already have,” Ken said proudly. “It’s you and me, Brendan,” announced Ken, surveying the small room like a king standing on a balcony overlooking his lands. “Roommates and buds.”
This was college life.
…
Dullahan sat regally upon his demonic steed as he galloped through the Black Forest. The Black Water Kelpies that normally caused the river to roil and bubble sank to the bottom of the riverbed in the hopes of avoiding detection by the headless demon. He and his horse were such a frightening sight that the trees themselves leaned away from the road, giving the murderous rogue his space. Dullahan could feel the eyes of the Black Forest’s creatures on him, but something else was out there among them. He felt the presence of someone or something that was observing his every move.
Dullahan was being stalked. It was an icy feeling for the predator of the Celtic Isles to suddenly feel like the prey. He instinctively slowed his horse’s trot to a walk.
He reached the edge of the Black Forest and paused for just a moment. Dullahan drew his ax just on the off chance that someone was foolhardy enough to attack the legendary killer. He surveyed the darkness through supernatural means and couldn’t find anything. There wasn’t even a scent in the air, but then it dawned on him and an age-old enemy came to mind.
“Where are you, Gorgoch?” he whispered.
“Why did you come back, demon?” boomed the bass voice of the mighty Gorgoch.
The voice surrounded Dullahan who led his horse in a tight circle, trying to spy his enemy. “Show yourself, Gorgoch!”
The half-spirit/half-man appeared out of nowhere as a streak of white across the dark landscape. He zipped in and around the headless demon who took random hacks with his ax at the spirit’s translucent body, never once making contact. After a few sweeps around to disorient Dullahan, Gorgoch came hard and fast and smacked the demon off of his horse and into the river that fed into the Black Forest.
“Brendan destroyed you,” Gorgoch stated from the banks. “I will have to make sure you stay gone, demon.”
Dullahan sprang from the river and slashed at Gorgoch. The spirit-man blinked out of existence as the sword passed right through him. He snatched the headless murderer up by one hand and lofted him into the air. Gorgoch’s eyes glowed in the moonlight like soft molten pearls that had been melted in his sockets.
“Now I take you back to the fiery pits of Ifreann!”
Gorgoch cut a rift in the air. The dimensional hole opened up to reveal a terrifying landscape of death and rot. Gorgoch, with Dullahan in hand, began to step into the rift until an unexpected force snatched the spirit man by the collar. He was dragged back through the rift to the Earth as the rift closed in haste.
“Where do you think you are taking my most loyal servant?” demanded the voice.
Gorgoch dropped Dullahan and fought against his attacker’s grasp. The assailant’s hold was unshakeable even if he tried to make himself corporeal or take to the air! His last option was trying to expand his size, but the captor wouldn’t allow it. Somehow this individual was able to nab Gorgoch with relative ease and command the spirit-man’s powers with his own. The assailant spun Gorgoch around and he looked into the eyes of the god that had captured him.
“I...I know you,” stammered Gorgoch. “You’re evil incarnate, the Beast, the Destroyer of Worlds. You’re—”
“Elathan, and I’m making you whole again.”
The god radiated golden energy that traveled directly into the spirit-man. Elathan released Gorgoch and he fell to his knees.
“What have you done to me?” choked Gorgoch in a haggard tone.
“I have finished the job,” said Elathan with a disinterested expression.
Gorgoch’s spirit clothes solidified into a lustrous gold. The curse spread quickly in all directions. First it traced vein-like paths that crossed from his clothes into his spirit-flesh. Metallic flakes crusted up all over Gorgoch. He tried to speak, to plea for mercy, but every part of him was solidifying into gold. In seconds, Gorgoch was entirely shrouded in gold flakes, solid to the core.
“You know,” Elathan said to Dullahan, “I used to like such gaudiness, but now I prefer a more classic décor.”
Dullahan chuckled. “May I?”
Elathan gestured with his still-glowing hand. “Please do.”
Dullahan hefted his ax and arched the blade with expertise through the air. He chopped the statue’s head clean off. The body shattered into a fine dust and scattered on the night wind. The head bounced off the ground and rolled up against the headless demon’s leg. Dullahan stomped his foot through Gorgoch’s solid head and smashed it to bits as well.
“Come, Dullahan, we have work to do.” Elathan strode away as golden dust settled in the grass.
…
The CHH was filled with young men all getting settled into their new home. They were chatting and putting away stuff, watching television in one room and playing video games in another, and generally doing what guys did. They were bonding, male-style, but Brendan needed a little air and a little space, so he stepped outside onto the front porch.
Brendan pulled out his cell phone and dialed Dorian. It rang on her end five times and then went to her voicemail. He cleared his throat before he spoke.
“Hey, babe, it’s me. I hope things are well there and the summer thing is coming along. Say hello to Biddy and Rory for me. Call me.”
He sat on the front porch turning his phone over in his hands. The campus was alive with people and he sat and watched them for a while. Most people looked to be old pros at getting around, like they were upper classmen, but there were a few wide-eyed and fidgety types out there too. He figured that he would have been one of them if he were out strolling around.
“Psst,” called a tiny voice from above Brendan’s head.
He looked all around but only spotted the speaker when he looked towards the tall bush next to the porch. A little woman with wings was peeking out of the leaves with a big smile.
“Hello,” Brendan greeted her.
“Excuse me, but you’re Brendan O’Neal, right?” the little woman asked. He nodded. “I told you Wanda!” she yelled.
Another head poked out of the leaves a few inches below the other tiny woman. “You don’t have to brag about it, Patty!”
“Who are you girls?” Brendan asked.
“Oh, forgive my sister, Mr. O’Neal,” Wanda replied. “We are Patty and Wanda Smith.”
“Smith? Really?” Brendan said, scratching his head. The Smith sisters smiled and nodded. “Are you Sidhes?”
“A what?” Patty’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Naw, honey, we’re Fairies.”
“That’s kind of the same thing,” Brendan said cautiously, trying not to offend them.
“Let me tell you something, Mr. O’Neal,” began Wanda. “You are a hero, honey, and we sure are glad that you are living here at the CHH!”
“Just call me Brendan.” He beamed at the compliment. “I don’t know if I’d say hero, but whatever.”
“I’d like to see someone say you’re not, because I’d give them a nasty beating!” Wanda yelled as she flailed her arms around, putting a nice-sized gash in an unsuspecting leaf.
“Okay, take it easy. So you two live here too?”
“We’re around,” Patty said. “If you ever need anything, just step outside and whistle and we’ll come quick.”
“Uh-oh, time to go!” Wanda shouted. The two sisters took to the air and shot across the darkening sky.
“Whatcha doing?”
The sudden appearance of a young woman with a Celtic accent caught him by surprise, and he nearly fell off his seat.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she said.
“I wasn’t scared. I just didn’t see you coming.” He cleared his throat as he scanned the sky for any signs of the Smith sisters.
She smiled and put her hands on her hips, looking Brendan in the eye. “My name’s Meghan.”
“I’m Brendan,” he said, rising to his feet. “That’s a beautiful accent you have there.”
“Thanks. I’m from Wales,” she replied.
“No kidding,” he said. “I was over that way last summer.”
She nodded. “Interesting.” She smiled again and tilted her head to flip her hair out of her eyes. “Well, Brendan, it was lovely meeting you. Perhaps we’ll bump into each other again, after all, we both live in Celtic Heritage Houses.”
“Perhaps,” he whispered to himself as she sauntered away. He couldn’t help feeling as though he had met her before, and he didn’t know why the thought was so unsettling.