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Ancient Dreams an X- Files eroticon 2/5
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
WARNING! THIS STORY IS NC-17 Rated!
WARNING! THIS STORY IS NC-17 Rated!
The story you are about to read contains SEX, written in loving detail.
If that bothers you, either do NOT read this story, or get someone who
doesn't mind erotica to black out all the juicy parts for you before you
read it. If you're underage, get your parent's permission to read it.
Don't flame me if you're silly enough to go ahead and read it after I
warned you, and then get offended by it. --kms
This story copyright 1994 by the author. Permission to distribute freely
is given, provided you do not attempt to sell it. The X-Files is a
trademark of Fox Television, characters not used by permission.
Kellie Matthews-Simmons//[email protected]
Member: SFLA&EBS, PSEB, DDEB, X-phile "Ego veno eos in vulcos minos."
"Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of
humiliation." --Fox Mulder, X-Files "Squeeze"
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Ancient Dreams, pt. 2
Kellie Matthews-Simmons
Fionn sagged against the seat of the coach, watching Naoise handle
the reins and feeling completely exhausted after creating and maintaining
a shield for Eithne and himself... and Dana Scully. Thankfully, he'd
sensed the imminent explosion seconds before the force of the blast had
escaped its confines, and had been able to work quickly enough to make a
difference.
In his mind's eye he could still see Dana Scully lying on the ground
as he expanded his wards to enclose her, forcing the explosion to defy the
laws of nature and bypass her. Trying to protect her as well as himself
and Eithne had overextended him severely, but he couldn't let her be
harmed. His mouth tightened. If he hadn't been so tired, he would have
tracked the culprits who had planted that bomb, and marked them to deal
with later. They had threatened the well-being of someone under his
protection. He didn't want them to escape unchastised.
"I've marked them for you, Fionn. You can find them later."
He looked across at his eldest sibling and smiled. "Thank you,
Banbha."
She smiled back. "T'was no bother," her gaze sharpened as she
studied him, and she lifted an eyebrow. "So, have you decided to mate
again, or is she just your lover? It's been a long time since you did
either."
Nonplussed, he stared back at her. Finally he found his voice.
"Neither, at this point, though 'tis none of your business. Why do you
ask?"
"You extended your protection to include her. I thought she must be
important to you."
He shook his head slowly. "She was kind to me on the flight, and I
felt I should repay that, though I will admit she intrigues me. Humans
have changed a great deal since the last time I knew one intimately. They
are far more interesting and complex now."
Banbha leaned forward, her gaze intense. "Our numbers grow ever
fewer, Fionn. We need new blood. You should mate again." She looked at
Eithne who had fallen asleep, and smiled. "Eithne's child will be the
first in generations; it would be good to have another for it to grow up
with."
His mouth thinned. "If you're so anxious for new blood, why don't
you take a mate?"
Banbha's gaze grew dark with sorrow, and she looked away. "I have
tried, Fionn, three times now, but I fear I am too old, or perhaps too
much damaged. I can no longer Change, or Renew. I try and try, but it
does not come."
He stared at her, utterly shaken. "You can't... not at all?"
She shook her head and lifted a hand to her hair, drawing a lock
forward, displaying the wide streak of gray in it. "I can't even put my
hair right any more. I fear... I fear sometimes that I'm dying."
He reached over and took her hands in his. "Ah, Ban! I'm sorry...
I didn't know, or I'd not have said what I did! What did you mean, you're
too damaged?"
She drew her hands away and stared sightlessly past him, gaze fixed
on nothing. When she spoke, her voice was flat, almost emotionless. "Do
you remember when the Rus grew careless and lost control of the little sun
they had made? I was living only a few kilometers from the place. I
thought nothing of it at first, but after a time I noticed I was aging
more quickly than normal. I came home, and went to the Caverns then, and
lay in the Earth and Water, dreamed of Air and Fire. I did not try to
Change then, so I don't know if it was already too late. I prefer being
female and chose to simply Renew. That was only five years ago, and now I
look like this... and I cannot Change, or Renew. I think I am damaged,
inside, where it does not show... or didn't until now."
A tear slid down her face, then another. He leaned forward and drew
her close, stroking her hair and saying soothing nonsense as his mind
raced. Traveling the world for the past few years, studying the myths and
legends of Humankind for traces of his own people's past, it had not
occurred to him that anything Humans could do would harm them like this.
How many of the Folk were damaged? He remembered reading that radiation
released by the reactor accident at Chernobyl had been measured in fairly
high quantities as far away as Wales... which was but a metaphorical
stone's throw from the Land. Perhaps they had been far enough away that
it had not hurt them... Banbha said she had been close to the source. He
drew back, looking down at her.
"Ban, has this happened to anyone else?"
She looked at him blankly, and shook her head. "No... I don't think
so, anyway. I don't know for sure."
"We need to find out. This could be dangerous... not just for you,
though you seem to be the most affected. Do we know where Aoife or Conn
are?" At Banbha's negative head-shake, he swore. "Damn! None of the rest
of us have enough knowledge of medicine or science to *do* anything about
this!" He shook his head, fists clenched in frustration. "I've been
studying words all these years when I should have been studying healing!
We've been so complacent, thinking we didn't *need* to know it, that the
Caves would always take care of our ills... but if this is beyond that,
what do we do?"
"I don't know," Banbha said, her voice bleak. Across the carriage
Eithne stirred and stretched, yawning.
"Sorry to fall asleep, she apologized. "I find myself constantly
napping these days. Where are we?"
Banbha summoned a smile from somewhere. "Near Oranmore, I think.
We're making good time."
For the first time in ages Fionn's pleasure in the thought of going
home was dimmed. He was half afraid now, afraid to see what other changes
awaited him there. Knowing Eithne would pick up on his somber mood, he
forced himself to think of something else, something pleasant.
The first pleasant thing that came to mind was Dana Scully, with her
soft laugh, soft lips, and soft curves. He reached out, searching for
her, found her back at the airport, sitting with feigned patience as she
answered questions about the explosion asked by an apologetic man in an
ill-fitting black suit. Though she kept it to herself, she was
exasperated and wanted to leave. He didn't blame her, as he picked up on
the fact that the delay meant she'd have to stay in Ennis for the night,
throwing her plans awry. He smiled. Well, at least he could see to it
that she would have pleasant dreams.
####
Dana lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall
asleep. She was used to staying in strange places, and beds that weren't
her own, but for some reason tonight was different. The cool, smooth
sheets were comfortable, the bed decent, the room quiet and dark, yet she
couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she started remembering,
and remembering made her start to wonder about her sanity. That didn't
last long, she was sure she was sane, but that troubled her even more. If
she was sane, how did she explain what she had seen? Fionn apparently
holding the explosion at bay like some wizard in a bad fantasy flick? A
woman appearing out of nowhere, dressed like an extra from that same film,
dousing flames with a gesture? It didn't make any sense! She wished
desperately that she could call Mulder and talk to him about it... or even
better, that he'd been there to see it himself. He'd make some silly joke
about it to put her at ease, then tell her some bizarre tale that
explained it... something she could pick apart, and research. Not knowing
what she could possibly have witnessed made her feel inadequate. Not a
feeling she liked in the slightest.
She sighed and rolled onto her stomach, dragging the pillow into a
more comfortable shape, and lay there staring at the wall instead of the
ceiling for a change of pace. Maybe it was the time change. That could
have... no. She couldn't lie to herself. She'd been a lot more tired on
many previous occasions, and even total exhaustion had never given her
hallucinations. A slight case of jetlag certainly wouldn't do it. She
did *not* want to think about it any more. She wanted to sleep!
Determined, she got up and searched her overnight case for the
antihistamine tablets she'd put there for emergencies. Finding them, she
took one, then followed it with two aspirin. If *that* didn't put her to
sleep, nothing would. With a sigh she lay back down and stared at the
ceiling again.
Mulder. What would he do? He probably would have told the security
guy at the airport exactly what he'd seen. He would have gotten Fionn's
flight information from the manifest. He would have started asking
questions. She'd done none of that. Why? Because she didn't want to
believe? Because she wasn't open to `extreme possibilities?' Mulishly her
jaw squared.
"Because I'm on vacation, damnit!" she said aloud, to convince both
herself, and the mental picture of Mulder who was looking at her with
disappointment. "Leave me alone. I am on vacation!"
She turned onto her side and closed her eyes with great
determination. She was going to sleep. Now.
####
Fionn slipped into the room, unseen and silent. Of course, being
able to walk through walls, in a manner of speaking, made it that much
easier. He stood looking down at her as she slept, a bit disappointed to
find her wearing pajamas. He had somehow envisioned her in silk and lace,
or even better, in nothing at all. The almost prudish practicality of her
nightwear surprised him, until he realized it was probably the result of
having had her sleep interrupted with emergencies on a regular basis.
He went lightly into her mind to see what she was dreaming, and
was pleased. Now *that* he could work with. In her dreams she lay, as
she did now, on her belly, but not alone, nor in prudish, practical
pajamas. He frowned slightly as he recognised the man she dreamt of, even
if she had not... that was why her dream-self faced away from him, her
face against her arm as he caressed her. She didn't *want* to recognise
him.
"No, you don't want to be dreaming of him, now. I know you don't,
you told yourself so. Dream of me instead, yes?"
Fionn eased down beside her, and built a glamour, a strong one,
remembering her resistance, but not strong enough to cause her distress.
He wanted her to stay asleep, to know him only as a dream. That was
always the easiest way with human women, at least in the past few
centuries. They tended to be much less inhibited if they thought they
were dreaming. He was a little out of practice with this, though it
wasn't a skill one forgot, once learned.
She stirred restlessly, and sighed, breathing the glamour deep,
flooding herself with it. He watched her lips part, saw the gentle flush
that painted her skin, and smiled. He insinuated himself into her dream,
subtly altering the man's features until they reflected his own, and
changing the setting to closer reflect reality, including the pajamas. In
her dream, she suddenly relaxed. Changing her partner had done that...
removing the undercurrent of guilty discomfort and allowing her natural
sensuality to bloom.
No longer passive, she turned, in dream and reality, and reached to
embrace him. Fionn sighed, enjoying the soft warmth of her body against
his. Carefully he opened the small buttons that closed her top, and
spread it open, exposing her small, firm breasts. He cupped them, fingers
teasing the pink nipples into rigidity, and lowered his mouth to taste her
lips, savoring their fullness, and the sweetness they hid. His tongue
flicked into her mouth and she moaned softly, arching against him, kissing
him back with eager intensity. She trapped one of his thighs between
hers, and he could feel the heat and dampness of her through the thin
fabric of her pajama bottoms. His dream-self suggested that she would be
more comfortable without them, and she reached down and slid them off,
baring herself to him.
She was a small woman, yet wonderfully rounded, with full hips and
thighs. The soft down covering her mons was the same copper-gold as her
hair. Why had he gone so long without women? How could he have forgotten
how sweet they were? He moved his lips to her breast, licking and nipping
the responsive peaks until she was squirming and breathless, then he
kissed his way down the gentle curve of her belly. He loved the way she
was built, no skinny, bony thing this... perhaps that was why he'd been so
uninterested in human women of late. Their recent obsession with being
skeletally thin and muscled like a plowhorse held no interest for him. It
wasn't that he disliked strong women, but strength didn't have to mean
masculinity. Dana was strong, he could feel the solidity of muscle
beneath her skin, but she was also as soft and sleek as a seal.
She reached down and freed his hair from the clasp that held it at
the nape of his neck, and it spilled around his shoulders and onto her
thighs. She laughed softly, and he was startled, fearing she was shaking
off the glamour, but she hadn't. She still thought she was dreaming, but
even in her dream the feather-light touch of his hair had tickled. She
apparently had very sensitive skin. With a wicked smile and lowered his
mouth to the inner curve of her thigh, just below the rise of her mons.
She gasped and thrashed as his tongue, teeth and lips took full advantage
of that sensitivity, teasing and tormenting her until she finally reached
down and quite boldly placed him exactly where she wanted him.
He waited a moment, teasing her, then he put his palms on her inner
thighs and pressed them wider, which parted her. The subtle complexity of
her scent surrounded him, exciting him. She was plump and hot and damp,
aching for his touch. He gave it, a long, deep kiss, tounge slipping
between, over, and finally into her. She arched and moaned, hands
clutching his shoulders, proving that strength he had sensed. She was
spicy and sweet, like nothing else on earth. He kissed her again, and
again, tongue stroking and probing. He was suddenly fiercely aroused, as
he hadn't been in decades. His body was shaking with need, hard, and
ready for her. It was all he could do not to crawl up her body and bury
himself deep inside her.
Fionn backed away from her with a gasp, trying to control himself,
and she moaned, protesting his abandonment. He drew a deep, ragged breath
and wished for a moment that she wasn't glamoured, that she was conscious
and doing this in reality rather than in a dream... but he knew she
wouldn't be doing it at all if that were the case. She wasn't a woman who
would share herself on a few hours acquaintence. He felt vaguely guilty
at that thought, knowing he was violating her principles. His arousal
fled, and for the first time in his life he felt ashamed of what he was.
He had always felt a kind of amused superiority at being Folk, rather than
human. Now suddenly he would trade his immortality to be the man she'd
dreamed of voluntarily rather than a pathetic creature who had to steal
and mold her dreams to include him. He had been ready to violate not just
her principles, but her body.
Disgusted with himself he rolled away from her and would have risen,
but she whimpered softly and he felt even worse. He had brought her
almost to the peak, then deserted her. He eased down again, and stroked
her hair, dropping kisses on it.
"I'm sorry sweet, I can't," he whispered as he took her hand and
placed it between her thighs, urging her to complete what he'd started.
She protested, wanting him back, but with a little mental nudge she
gave in. He felt her body shudder and heard her sigh of release, and
turned away, shaken to the core. His world was falling apart. His sister
was dying... none of The Folk had ever died, not like that. Certainly
they were vulnerable to accident and murder, but old age had never before
claimed any of his kin. Now this... this guilt for simply being what he
was? He'd lived centuries, and never before felt anything like this.
Perhaps it was just that it had been so long since he'd taken a
lover or mate, he thought, grasping at straws. He knew better though. He
knew the real cause. Before the past ten years, he had never spent any
appreciable amount of time with humans, never bothered to learn their
mores and customs beyond the barest surface knowledge. Unfortunately now
that he had, he was faced with the realization that what he had done with
human women all his life could be seen as a form of rape. Just because he
left them with a dream of pleasure received didn't mean it was less of a
trespass. He drew the bedcovers gently up, tucking them around Dana's
sleeping form, and left her alone.
####
Bright sunlight was pouring through the lace curtains when Dana
awoke. Eyes closed, she stretched, feeling incredibly well- rested, and a
strangely content. Mid-stretch, she suddenly realized something was
amiss, and sat up with a gasp, looking down at herself. Her pajama top
was completely unbuttoned, and the bottoms were missing altogether! A
moment's searching yielded them in a wadded bundle under the covers and
she sat there looking at them, trying to remember having removed them. As
she did, memories of an incredibly erotic dream came flooding back, and
she felt warmth rising in her face. Mulder? *And* Fionn? She must be
more frustrated than she thought if she was unconsciously weaving sexual
fantasies about both of them in one night.
God! It had seemed so *real*! She could still almost feel the
touch of fingers, lips and tounge against her skin, almost feel the
spiderweb touch of long auburn hair on her thighs. The beginning of the
dream, the part with Mulder in it, was less clear, almost fuzzy, but the
*middle*, when her dream-lover had become Fionn, had been almost
unbearably erotic! She `remembered' him opening her top in the dream, she
must have done that herself, just as she remembered removing her pajama
bottoms at his suggestion... his touch had been incredible! It was a
shame that it had been a dream, because he'd aroused her more than any
real lover she'd ever had. The end of the dream had been disappointing,
though. As she thought about it, Dana felt annoyed. Why was it that even
in her *dreams* she ended up alone? The words of one of her favorite
songs echoed in her mind...
"But I fear, I have nothing to give, I have so much to lose
here in this lonely place; tangled up in our embrace, there's
nothing I'd like better than to fall..."
She made a face, disgusted at herself. If she was *dreaming* of
mysterious lovers, maybe it was a sign that she needed to be more honest
with herself, to acknowledge her sublimated needs and desires. She still
couldn't allow herself to act on her feelings for Mulder, but the fact
that in her dream he had become Fionn told her that it was possible that
she was only fantasizing about him for lack of another candidate. She
laughed at herself at that thought, knowing full well she was clutching at
straws. However... that still left Fionn. Hadn't he said he lived not
far from where she was going? Didn't she make her living tracking people
down? In a place as small and sparsely populated as Ireland, how hard
could it be to find an independently wealthy collector of folklore who was
better looking than most movie stars?
Smiling slightly, she swung her feet out of bed and something fell
to the floor with a metallic chime. Puzzled, she reached down and picked
up a small C-shaped gold band about three-quarters of an inch wide, its
surface deeply incised with Celtic interlace. There were small holes in
each end of it, and a eye-headed pin hung from a chain attached to it.
She threaded the pin through the holes it was obviously meant to go
through, and stared at it, trying to figure out what it was. It was too
big to be a ring, and too small to be a bracelet, though it looked vaguely
familiar. Perhaps the maid had dropped it when she'd made the bed.
Dana got out of bed and set the object on the dresser, then looked
in the mirror and laughed at her reflection. Her hair looked like she'd
combed it with a blender. No way was she going to wander down the hall to
the bathroom looking like that! Picking up her hairbrush she began to
work it through the snarls, and stopped suddenly, as the weight and
texture of hair in her hands triggered a memory. She let her hair fall,
her eyes going to the golden object. She knew what it was now. It was
the band that had held Fionn's hair back out of his face. She remembered
unfastening it... in the dream. Yet here it was, as real, and solid as
the hairbrush in her hand.
"Oh my god..." she sat down on the bed, feeling a little weak in
the knees. "Oh my god... he was *here*! It felt real because it *was*
real!"
She shuddered, angry and frightened. How had he gotten into her
room? Why hadn't she awakened? Had he managed to drug her somehow? She
didn't know *how* he'd done it, but he had obviously been in her room last
night! She might not have been penetrated, but it was still rape as far
as she was concerned! Furious, she stood up and started yanking clothes
from her suitcase, dressing quickly. She was going to go talk to the
management about the so-called security in this place, then she was going
to hunt him down.
####
Two hours later she was in her car and on the road, feeling a
strange mixture of anger, confusion and embarrassment. Mrs. Murteach, the
woman who ran the bed and breakfast, had convinced her there was no way
anyone could have entered her room without someone knowing it. She had
been horrified at the thought that Dana might have been attacked in her
establishment, assuring her that nothing like that had *ever* happened.
She had even called the night staff and questioned them, determining that
no one had seen anyone who didn't belong there. But it wasn't until Dana
had told Mrs. Muirteach that she'd met her assailant on the plane, and
mentioned his name, that things had truly gotten strange.
"Fionvarra MacCumhail?" the woman had laughed. "Aye, he ought to be
easy to find. Just visit any library."
"I don't understand, what are you talking about?"
"He was having you on. I suppose you could check the passenger
manifest to see if he gave a real name there, but with only a false name
to work from, you haven't a hope of locating him."
"What makes you think it's a false name?"
"Because there's not too many people around who'd dare name a child
after a legendary hero-king of Ireland. The poor child would be a
laughingstock!"
It had never occurred to her that he might have used a pseudonym.
She was reluctant to report the matter to the local police, since she had
no proof that she'd been touched at all. Still... he had said he lived
near Inishcrone, so she knew approximately *where* to look for him, and
his description surely wasn't that common. It wouldn't hurt to ask
around.
The worst part was that the more she thought about it the less
likely it seemed that he had really been there. The dream-like quality of
the experience had grown more and more pronounced the longer she was
awake. Once she was less shaken, it had dawned on her that the fact that
she'd dreamed about the hair clasp could just mean that she had noticed it
in the bed while in a half-waking state, and unconsciously incorporated it
into her dream. Stranger things had happened. She'd dreamed of Mulder,
too, and *he* certainly hadn't been in her room last night. The only
piece of evidence she had was completely circumstantial, and couldn't be
linked to her suspect since she hadn't noticed him wearing it on the
plane, only in the dream.
There was also the question of why someone like `Fionn' would risk
sneaking into her room and assaulting her. She knew that from a
psychological standpoint a man's looks and bank balance had nothing to do
with his potential as a rapist, but she was usually a good judge of
character, and nothing about him had triggered any warning at all. Of
course why would he have used a false name if there wasn't something a
little... off about him? And what the hell had that scene in the parking
lot been about? She just couldn't get the puzzle pieces to fit together.
She was even more determined to find him. If she could see him
face-to-face, see his reaction to her, she would *know* if she was losing
her mind, or if something much stranger was going on.
####
Dana stopped the car and sighed, reaching yet again for the map.
"I'm lost," she said aloud, just to hear a voice. "How can I be lost in
a country smaller than Pennsylvania?"
She studied the map, shaking her head. She'd asked directions to
Ardnaree of a man in Ballina. He had told her to go south until she got
to the first crossroad past the town, then turn east and she couldn't miss
it, but if she got to Tobercurry she'd gone to far south and needed to
turn back. Well, she'd done that. Gone too far and turned back, then
gone all the way back nearly to Ballina again without finding a turn.
Finally she'd decided that what she thought was a sheep track must be the
road he'd meant and she took that.
She'd been right about sheep. Half a mile down the road she'd
encountered a flock of them. Most of them were grazing on either side of
the `road,' but two of them napping contentedly right in the middle of it.
It had taken a couple of blasts on the horn to get the stupid things to
move. She'd driven on another mile before stopping again, disheartened.
It would help matters a lot if the damned hedges weren't so high!
Irritated she dropped the map on the seat. She might as well be
looking at a map of Maryland for all the good it was doing her. She
opened the car door and stepped out. If she couldn't see over the hedges
from *inside* of the car, maybe she could see over them from on *top* of
it! She stepped onto the seat and boosted herself up onto the roof of the
car, then stood carefully and looked over the nearest hedge. Beyond it
lay a field of still-green grain of some type. She didn't think it was
wheat, but wasn't entirely sure what it was. Looking to the hedge on her
right, her jaw dropped. A similar field lay on that side, but a
disturbingly familiar sigil had been stamped into the grain, laying it
flat in a clockwise whorl of stalks. A crop circle? The only time she'd
ever seen one was in the field at the Kindred farm. As she gaped, a voice
spoke from behind her.
"You wouldn't happen to be Dana Scully, now would you?"
She gasped and almost fell off the car. After regaining her balance
she turned to find a tiny woman standing a few feet from the car, flanked
by a pair of huge, shaggy dogs that were almost as big as she was.
"I am," Dana managed to acknowledge. "How did you...?"
The woman smiled. "We don't get many visitors. I'm Maire Desmond.
Please call me Maire."
Dana stared, stunned. *This* was her eighty-year-old great-aunt
Maire? This tiny, slim woman in a gray tweed jacket and khakis', with
masses of silver hair braided in an elaborate coronet? This woman who
looked *possibly* sixty-five, maybe seventy at a stretch, but never in a
million years eighty? This woman whose sharp hazel gaze was as bright and
unclouded as a teenager's? She realized she must look like an idiot and
carefully climbed down from the roof of the car. She stood uncertainly
for a moment, cautious about the dogs. Maire noted her caution and
smiled.
"Hold out your hands, palm out, so they can smell you."
Dana complied. Maire spoke to the dogs softly and they edged
forward slowly and sniffed her hands. To her surprise, they both lay down
at her feet, whining. One, a female, rolled onto her back presenting her
vulnerable belly. Maire whistled.
"Now that's odd... she's usually quite the dominant one. I guess
she feels you're the alpha female here. Brenna, up now."
The dog immediately bounded to her feet, accompanied by the male,
and they retreated to Maire's side where they eyed Dana worriedly.
"Well now, aren't you both actin' quite strange today? What's got
you all upset?" Maire asked the dogs, as if they could reply. She
ruffled their ears and turned back to Dana. "Anyway, Dana, I thought I
ought to come out and find you when you weren't here by tea-time. I
thought perhaps you were having trouble finding us."
"Thank you, to be frank, I was. And I'm so happy to meet you! Dad
told me so much about you."
"Aye, and he wrote me many a letter praising you as well. Have you
room in there for Angus and Brenna?"
Dana looked dubiously at the back seat, wondering if it would cost
her extra to have paw-prints cleaned off the upholstery. She decided to
chance it.
"I think they might just fit. What kind of dog are they?"
Maire smiled. "Irish wolfhounds, of course. Lovely aren't they?"
"Quite," Dana lied, opening the door. Maire spoke a phrase in
Gaelic and the dogs trotted obediently to the car and arranged themselves
on the back seat. Maire stepped forward and took Dana's hand between
hers.
"I'm so pleased you came to see me," she said, her voice low and
soft. "Your father was always my favorite nephew, and I was so sorry to
hear of his loss. 'Tis a sad thing to outlive your children, and I always
liked to think of him as mine, though he rarely got to visit me in recent
years. I wish I'd not been such a world-traveller in my younger days, so
he could have been with me more."
Dana felt an immediate kinship with the older woman, and her eyes
teared up a bit as she thought of her father. "H-he told me a lot of
stories about his visits with you. He loved it here, he always said it
was a haven for him, the only place where he didn't have to hear his
parents fighting."
Maire looked more her true age suddenly. "Aye, proper fools those
two were. In love and out of it as often as frogs jumping. It was hard
on him. I'm glad I was able to provide him a place of peace now and
then."
"He... he asked me to give you..."
Maire shook her head, pressing her hand again before releasing it.
"Not now, lass. Let's get home and get a pot of tea goin', then we'll
have a proper talk."
Dana nodded and went around to open the passenger door for Maire
before getting into the car and starting it. Maire gestured toward the
road.
"Go on straight for a bit now, and there'll come a branch. Take the
left fork."
Dana nodded and put the car in gear. They drove for awhile in
silence, then Maire spoke.
"Something's troubling you, lass. What is it?"
"I... nothing. I just didn't sleep well last night."
"Na, that's not it," Maire said, definitively. "I sense a man in
this, maybe two men... wait..." she stared at Dana for a long moment,
looked at the dogs, then back at Dana. She reached across and lifted one
of Dana's hands from the steering wheel and drew it toward her, sniffing
audibly. Her eyes widened. "Ah, no! You too? I'd thought I was the
last, it still runs in the family, I see! What's his name, your Faerie
lover?"
Dana turned and stared at her, mouth open slightly in surprise.
"What did you say?" she managed after a moment of stunned silence.
"He was with you last night, the dogs smelled him on you first, and
I can still smell him, faintly. I know the scent of a Fey, even after all
these years, I can still remember..." her voice trailed off as she
reminisced for a moment.
If she hadn't been saying something uncomfortably close to the truth
Dana would have wondered if her great-aunt was less competent than she had
first seemed. But recent experience had taught her to be more open
minded. She steered the car toward the side of the road and stopped it.
"Please... what... what do you know?"
"I know he came to you last night. I know you're troubled by it. I
know he seemed like a dream, but also like reality. I know you've never
had another lover like him."
"*How* do you know that?"
Maire looked at her, eyes clear and unshadowed. "It happened to me
once, a very long time ago. I was your age, or less. What was his name?"
"I don't know."
"They always tell you their name, 'tis their custom. He must have
told you."
"He gave me a name, but it couldn't be his real name..." Dana
whispered.
"What was it?" the old woman's gaze was intent, her voice tight.
"Fionnvarra MacCumhaill."
Maire closed her eyes and sighed in obvious relief. "T'wasn't the
same one. I don't think I could have borne that."
"Please, Maire! Explain! I have to know what's going on!"
Maire opened her eyes. "I'll tell you all I know, but drive on,
Dana. I need that tea, it's a long story."
####
It was a long story, and it left Dana doubting her own sanity as
well as her aunt's. But in a bizarre sort of way, it made sense. She
kept telling herself to be open minded, reminding herself of some of the
inexplicable things she had seen over the past year. The story was no
more implausible than any of those. She took a long sip of her tea, and
then a deep breath.
"So, you're saying these... `Gentry' as you call them... are real?
That they live here, and everyone here knows about it and thinks it's
perfectly normal?"
Maire laughed. "Well, perhaps not normal, but accepted. Just as
you'd accept it if your neighbor happened to have twelve cats. It's odd,
but there's not much you can do about it, and they're harmless enough."
Dana bristled at that. "How can you call rape harmless?"
Maire looked at her askance. "I wouldn't call it that. It seems to
me it was seduction."
"I wouldn't."
"Perhaps that's why he left you, then. They're not cruel, or evil,
Dana. They never come to those who haven't in some way called them to
come."
Dana found herself fascinated by the loose tea leaves floating in
her cup. Had she wanted him to come to her? Could she truthfully answer
that question in the negative? If he had come to her when she was awake,
and asked to make love with her, would she have allowed him to? She
wasn't sure. She couldn't deny that she'd briefly imagined him as a
lover, or that she had felt a very physical interest in him. She pushed
that aside.
"But what do they get out of it? Why do they do it?"
Maire grinned. "Need you ask?"
Dana blushed at the implication, and shook her head. "I mean
besides that!"
"Who knows? One thing's for sure, they've been Visitin' for time
out of mind."
"But I met him on a *plane*, for heaven's sake! Why would he have
been in America?"
"I've never heard of them traveling so, but perhaps they have
interests in this world that we know naught of. Did he speak with you?
What did he say, what was he like?"
"I thought he was quite... normal. He dressed well, very well in
fact. Expensively. I liked him, he was easy to talk to, though a little
odd at times. He told me he was a folklorist... collecting legends and
stories. He said... he said that he had to do it, before all the poetry
and magic was forgotten."
Maire's face softened, her eyes growing distant. "Aye, they would
have that need. They themselves are poetry and magic, and like legends,
they also are all but forgotten."
Dana thought about that and found it very sad, for a moment. Then
she wondered what on earth she was thinking of, believing it for even a
second! It was too outrageous and bizarre to be real... But... what else
could explain how they had survived that explosion in the parking lot?
What else could explain a woman appearing out of no where? What else
could explain the hair clasp in her bed? Thinking of that suddenly
reminded her of his reaction to metal on the plane.
"You know, there was something else odd about him... he said he was
allergic to metal... to some metals, at least. He wore a gold earring,
but he couldn't touch the seat-belt clasp because it blistered his
fingers. I saw it happen."
"Was it iron?"
"Well, it was stainless steel, which I think is an alloy of iron and
carbon."
Maire nodded sagely. "They can't bear the touch of it. 'Tis said
to be the only thing that will kill them."
Dana shuddered, unnerved. "Maire, this is crazy!"
"I know, lass, but... 'tis Ireland."
"It's just another country, not another world!"
Maire looked at her in silence for a long time, and finally smiled
cryptically. "Don't be so sure about that."
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