Aednat spat out a mouthful of venom and bent to take another. But when she saw the trickle leaking from my mouth she stopped and stared at me, her face unreadable. Fear whispered through me. Finally she sat back on her heels and punched the ground.
The world went fuzzy around me again; I blinked and when I opened my eyes I saw I’d been brought to a house, one I recognized. The white rough stucco covered the outside walls and a somewhat dilapidated porch was covered by an even more dilapidated roof. But it was a place where I’d spent much of my childhood, while my mother had partied with her friends.
“This is my grandfather’s home,” I said.
Yes.
The doorknob rattled as I turned it and a wash of warm air circulated out and around me, beckoning me in. The familiar feel of cold hard tile on my bare feet took me back to when I was a little girl. Looking down at myself, I realized I was wearing a grown-up version of my favorite sundress from childhood. Eyelet lace edged the bottom and blended into the cotton skirt, which was covered in cherries. I couldn’t help the smile that crept across my lips.
I peeked into the doorway on the left, Grandpa’s bedroom. It was empty. Stepping through the doorway I let my fingers trail along the edge of his hard wood dresser. The picture frames held shots of Ashling, mostly, but also one of me.
You were always so serious. I froze. That hadn’t been the multitude of voices, but a single male voice. “Grandfather?” I whispered.
Yes, Quinn. I be here now. I be grateful for ta rest. My mind has been gone far longer, ta fear of ta Fomorii ate at me ‘til I was a shell of me former self.
“Why am I here? What is it that I need to see?” I asked.
Go to ta far side, ta night stand has a picture of your grandmother in it. Excitement filled me. I’d never known my grandmother; she’d died long before my time and there were no pictures of her that I’d ever seen.
I jumped across the bed, the faux fur blanket just as I remembered it brushing across my bare legs. Almost there, I stopped and grabbed a jar that rested on the shelf cut into the headboard. I cracked the jar open and took a deep breath of the camphor oil, the scent filling the room. The rush of memories rocked through me, and then a tear did slip out past my defences.
“I remember when I fell off my bike. You rubbed my leg with this and said it was magic,” I whispered. “You said . . .”
That the smell would frighten away the monsters.
I hiccupped a laugh; put the jar back and slid the rest of the way across the bed. The nightstand had a lock on it, just as it had growing up. “How do I get in?”
Just put your hand on it, t’will open for you now, Quinn.
I put my hand out and he kept on speaking while I waited for something to happen.
Your grandmother, she was a spitfire, all piss and vinegar. We loved hard and fast, fought ta same way, and when I last saw her, gah. He paused and I waited. We fought; I didn’t want her to let Darcy go to Balor. Your grandmother she thought it was best. So I put a curse on her. And I never saw her again. It is ta only regret I have. Go on now, open it up.
My interest peeked beyond reason; I wrenched the drawer open and pulled out a leather bound photo album. It was tied shut with two strings of black lace.
“Does she look like me?” I asked.
Open it and see.
The leather creaked as I flipped the book open. The first picture was of my grandfather with a woman on his arm; she was holding a child. I stared at the small bundle, wondering if they’d known their daughter would grow up to be so self centered. Then I turned my attention to the woman who must be my grandmother. My smile vanished. I held the book out at a distance. The photo was a black and white, so I couldn’t be sure. The woman looked up at me from the page, a soft smile on her lips. Her eyes were dark, and her long wavy hair was pulled over to one side of her neck. I knew her face, though we’d only just met.
“What colour is her hair?” I asked, my voice breathless, catching on the words like a rough hand against silk.
Red, like ta cherries on your dress. Shaking I put the book down, unable to see anymore. Tears streamed down my face as I whispered her name.
“Cora.”
I thought that after seeing that photo I’d be thrown back into my body, that I’d start to wake up, but that wasn’t the case.
“Why am I still here?” I asked, wiping the tears off my cheeks with one hand, clutching the edge of my sundress in the other.
The voices spoke in unison again, my grandfather’s voice blending into the chorus.
This was so you would know your past, to help you know who you are. Now we will show you the future—one last thing. The hardest thing. A piece of the prophecy; what is to come.