Authors: Bonnie Erina Wheeler
The floor squeaked and the two women peered at the
doorway as Torin’s father entered. “Lexie, you’re as lovely as my son described you. I had hopes you would come for a visit so we could final y meet you.” He bent down and planted a kiss on the crown of her head. “Torin cal ed me – he has been worried about you. He said you had a terrible fright yesterday.”
Lexie worried Donovan was going to attempt discrediting her. “I am fine, but only because of his quick actions.”
“Yes, he told me he was just in time. He’s worried that it may have been too much for you too soon. It wasn’t how he planned to tel you.” His father’s dark blue eyes were the same shade as Torin’s. His hair was darker though and
had a heavy wave to it. “I am hoping because you are here, you are wil ing to listen with an opened heart to our family secret.”
A perfect hostess, Endel ion placed the mugs of tea and cookies on a tray. “Let’s go into the family room and get
comfortable while we wait for Torin. He cal ed just before Lexie arrived to let me know he was on his way.”
Lexie trailed behind them into a comfortable room; the wal s were adorned with beautiful tapestries and paintings in large ornate frames. The curio cabinets held pretty crystal bowls and vases, mustache cups, and hand painted plates. The leather furniture appeared wel -used, yet
welcoming.
Donovan sat back in his chair with a resigned smile upon his face. He stretched his hand out to Endel ion, welcoming her to sit beside him. Bigger than a recliner, but smal er than a loveseat, the oversized chair looked like it was built for them to share. His wife nestled into the crook of his arm against him and smiled serenely. Lexie admired the
gentleness the two shared; their love told a story without words.
She wrapped her hands around her mug of tea and listened as he began: “The only true way to real y explain who we are is by starting from the beginning – the very beginning actual y. As you know, I am not from this wonderful country; my birthplace is Eire, the Emerald Isle in County Mayo. We are a superstitious bunch, we love our history and our oral traditions, and it is my hope as a father that years from now, Torin wil share this as you sit by his side like my fire soul sits beside me.
My great grandfather shared this with me, for it was his father who was one of the first.”
“Far back before there were automobiles and computers, before electricity or telephones, even before this great country was settled, my great-great grandfather’s mother lived to serve God. Sarah was but seventeen when she
dedicated her life to the Lord with the purpose of spreading Christianity to the Pagans of Ireland, for they were lost in their druid practices. She loved her simple life at the monastery. The monks were educated men as were the
nuns, their days were fil ed with transcribing scripture, praying, and practicing obedience. Although they were on the coast line and lived beside a smal vil age, they seldom left the monastery’s great wal s.
“It al changed one spring when soon after the evening meal, three of the vil age elders with their wives and children in tow, pounded upon the massive front gate in a frenzied panic.
They begged for entrance and beseeched that the God of the place protect the vil age from the demons that arrived before dawn on the turbulent sea. The chief was Cormac from the McGregor clan; he claimed not a sound or a hint of
movement had been observed al day. The vil agers had al heard tales of demons wearing the skins of men that drank away the souls of their prey and only moved during the blackness of night.
Lexie listened intently as Donovan weaved the history of the past. She wanted to bombard him with questions, but knew he needed time to clarify his story.
Between sips of tea, Donovan continued. “The leaders
were scorned by the two older monks. They were favored by Pope Gregory VI himself. They shamed Cormac and the others for their pagan superstitions and predicted the ship was abandoned after a plague or mutiny. However, four
nuns and the youngest scribe by the name of Timothy took pity on the vil agers. They instructed them to col ect the remaining vil age folk and take refuge within the safe wal s of the Lord’s sanctuary.
“Just before sunset, the brother saw the massive lone
vessel at anchor nearer to the shore than it was to his liking.
That calm evening, not a sound came from the sea which was stil as glass, nor was there any sign of life from the terrible vessel. It was crafted from foreign materials, perhaps in the bowels of Hades. It was unlike anything
imagined in his worst nightmares.
“Timothy climbed to the highest point of the monastery’s structure to gain a better view; from his high perch he saw the stern was carved in the form of a wicked dragon with a long pointed tail, its horrible sails rose as if in winged flight.
The edges of the linen dyed a deep crimson red.”
Donovan’s voice grew quiet for a moment.
He told the tale with such compassion, Lexie felt as if he was giving a first hand testimony – looking through the eyes of the young monk. “Timothy’s fear almost devoured him.
With Sarah and the sisters by his side, together they
watched the sunset and prayed for deliverance. They were so ful of terror that not a word could pass their lips. Their silent prayers were heard only by God.
“As they were about to take shelter, for the sun had just set behind the horizon and sight grew limited, movement came from the prowl. First a sole flicker of firelight, then several dark forms swarmed out of the hul like ants pouring from the ground.
The creatures moved not like men, for they were too fast.
Within seconds, Timothy and Sarah questioned their own eyes because the beasts began to crawl down the side of
the ship while the others took flight into the air like large winged owls. He didn’t know it then, but they were the draugar – the original Viking undead.”
Lexie’s heart raced. Torin’s father was setting the stage for an unfathomable event, one she didn’t want any of them linked to. She couldn’t eat the pastry on her plate – her stomach hurt like it was ful of cement.
“What happened then cost the lives of al who had shunned the monastery and stayed in the vil age that night. Like a massive army from the gates of hel , the demons raped and
pil aged their way through the smal hamlet. They took al livestock, every valuable that could be found, and dragged the wee children aboard their death ship that night. Men and women were massacred, completely consumed of
their life force, and left entombed in their burning homes or in piles upon the beach.
“Within the wal s of the monastery, Sarah and Timothy tried to conceal those who had taken refuge there. Not the older two men who accused the vil agers of superstition, for they forbid the others from fol owing as they evacuated the monastery. They fled through an old tunnel that ran under the large grounds and out through a cave in the cliff side, a
hundred feet down the coast line.
“The nuns did their best to hide the women and children within the crawl space behind the shelves in the pantry which were built for cold storage of spices and grains. They closed up the pantry with hopes the strong smel s of its contents could prevent the beasts from identifying the human flesh harbored within. Left with no refuge for
themselves, the faithful women freed themselves to pray for their redemption within the wal s of the sanctuary. The men took defensive posts, wil ing to die protecting the women and wee ones. Timothy was a gentle man, never having
taken up a sword until that night, but he held it with two shaking hands as he prayed Psalm .”
Lexie tried to imagine their courage at that moment. She wondered how hard it was to keep stil and not run like the others. Could she face death in order to defend the ones she loved? She would hope so, but how do you know
unless you’re in that situation?
“When dawn came, the women and children who survived
the night pushed their way through the sealed off pantry. It was no surprise to them that the monastery was in ruins.
The four nuns, Sarah included, were alive, but they were
injured and covered in blood from having been ravaged. Al of the vil age men who had bravely faced the Draugar were dead.
Their bodies hung by their ankles from the rafters in the sanctuary. Their throats and wrists were slit and left to bleed out onto the floor.
“Timothy was the only male to survive the onslaught.
Both of his legs were broken and he sustained a gash in his forehead, but he was strong enough to survive the
crushing weight of the sanctuary’s two massive oak doors that had knocked him unconscious when they col apsed
upon him, knocking him to the floor as the beasts spil ed in.
“These demons wearing the skins of men defiled the place in the worst possible sense. Sarah and the others had been raped while old Cormac McGregor was slaughtered at their feet.
His heart was torn from his chest and left on the alter. The room
was covered in excrement and blood, a blatant insult to the Christian faith that was worshipped in that place. Nailed to the front gates were the eviscerated remains of the two older monks who had left through the evacuation tunnel.”
Endel ion passed Lexie a box of tissues. She had not realized she had been crying. She patted away tears and wondered how this tragic story explained why she was
connected to Torin and why he was capable of doing things no other human could do.
His eyes, his teeth – is Donovan implying that Torin is a Draugr? But they drank blood, murdered innocent people, and could only come out at night – like vampires. Her mouth dried as her body trembled slightly. She grasped her
necklace around her throat. It wasn’t possible. Torin was nothing like that.
Warmth flooded over her shuddering form, relaxing every inch of her body. She peered up at the doorway
discovering Torin’s powerful blue eyes as he beheld her.
He was concerned for her. She could feel it come from him as easily as she could feel the now cold mug in her hands.
His expression was twisted with anguish and revealed so much worry. She rejected him yesterday, turning away when he reached for her.
I’m horrible, I don’t deserve him.
Without removing her eyes from his, she extended her hand out,
gesturing him to sit beside her on the couch. Sensing his
apprehension, she whispered his own words, “Please trust me.”
Torin entered the room and Lexie could feel a subtle shift in her mood and heart rate. As he sat down beside her, she instantly breathed in the comfort of his nearness. His arm encircled her shoulders, so she leaned in closer. Her hand found his and as he entwined her fingers, she knew that she would never push him away again.
She smiled at Donovan, encouraging him to continue with the rest of his extraordinary story.
As Torin pul ed Lexie closer, his body pulsated in response to her touch. He feared she might leave by the time he made the trip back from the old house. He had hit speeds that would give a traffic cop a coronary, but he didn’t want to waste time. He had been replacing the roof tiles and checking for other dangers since dawn. He hoped to bring her back there, with a different ending to the trip.
His father gave him a knowing smile. With his mother by Donovan’s side, Torin now understood the deep
connection his parents cherished. Until discovering Lexie,
he could never have understood the power of a fated love. It did make the curse bearable – he wouldn’t want to live forever without her.
Donovan’s narration of the coven’s history stil had a powerful effect on him. As Torin listened, he could feel his own existence sync with Sarah’s.
His father swal owed down a mouthful of tea and continued.
“It was many long months before the vil age began to thrive again, but it never regained the heart and spirit it once held.
I do not envy those who were absent, returning from travels to nearby markets and fairs, because when they came
home, they were faced with the grisly task of cleaning up the carnage and rebuilding their homes. The elders from nearby vil ages offered little counsel and help – they al feared the grounds were now cursed by the cruel draugr who afflicted the place with death and pain.
“Within months, it was obvious that Sarah and the three sisters were with child. Timothy was now the only man to reside among them, no others came from the mainland
when he sent word of the massacre. The religious
community feared the demons would return, so it fel solely upon him to care for the sisters in their time of need. What
kind of offspring could grow from the seed of Lucifer’s spawn? His torment was so great that he fasted and prayed for days at a time – searching for guidance and hope, not wishing for any life to be lost. After nine months had passed, four male babes were born. My great-great
grandfather was the first; he was named after Cormac
McGregor, for the man had fought a good fight and showed bravery in death.”
Torin could hear Lexie’s quick intake of breath as she placed the story’s puzzle pieces together. He considered her expression; she showed a mixture of sadness for al involved and acceptance. He couldn’t stand to have her repel ed by him, not after revealing to him what life could be like with her by his side.
“The lads grew quickly and were healthier than most boys.
They did not struggle with weak lungs and bad eyes like so many babes did at the time. Their teeth and bones were strong, their skin flushed with wel being – sickness did not afflict them.
Timothy raised them to understand that man must fight his sinful nature and never drink another’s blood.
“It was when the lads were adolescents that fortune struck, as it were. An old Pishogue had come to the vil age after
hearing stories of the half vampire children. The vil agers spurned her, assuming she was insane, but not Timothy.