Chapter 2: Aerýn


We drove in silence with only the petulant sound of tires upon pavement to interrupt. I leaned forward, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles and scowling as if it were all the windshields' fault; anger sent multitudes of erratic thoughts through my head.


“Are you alright Aerýn?” asked Ara. She looked like a helpless little child with her knees drawn up to her chin like that.


“Yes,” I began, but I was being selfish; Ara was in pain and needed my help, not the other way around, “Yes, but are you okay?”


“I'm fine for now,” she said, putting on a brave face when I could see the suffering in her gray eyes. “We're not going to the hospital are we? My parents cannot find out, they'd never believe me.” She pleaded.

I thought for a moment, “I won't make you go. You're lucky my mother's a Wiccan and practices all that Indian nonsense.”

Ara smiled her gratitude, but clenched her eyes shut and sat back not a moment later. She needed help soon; it was a blessing now that I lived in the country; easily accessible and close.

Up ahead loomed the dead end of the single lane road that branched out to our drive; hopefully we wouldn't get stuck in the mud but our luck held as we traversed the mile long drive into the heart of the woods.

Out of the foliage emerged a large meadow, now bare and wintry, which harbored our now sinister looking Victorian house. In the daylight it was charming, at night, scary.

I pulled up to the circular drive and killed the engine. The nighttime silence invaded my thoughts. I needed to get into the house before I lost my purpose. I jumped out of the car and almost ran to the passenger door.

As I opened the door I began to feel more secure. It always helped to have someone who doesn't fear the dark to anchor you and keep the crushing weight of the blackness away.

I mounted the stairs, carrying Ara in my arms. Before I was able to open the door I stopped; I stopped like a hare that smells the scent of the fox. The hairs on the back of my neck and arms rose and I hardly suppressed the shudders that yearned to escape. I dared not turn.

I opened the door, slammed, and locked it at impossible speed and immediately flicked every light on in a twenty foot radius. I deposited a now limp Ara on our couch and turned on all the other lights as well as the TV. Not for entertainment, I never watch TV for that, just for the gentle hum of voices and static. I sigh, but I still feel as though my heart dropped to my stomach to make it its now permanent residence.

I surveyed the familiar surroundings of our house. Antiques were scattered around as well as Wicca symbols and other mystical artifacts.


“Are your parents not home,” came Ara's strained voice.


“No, you may spend the night. No...you'll have to. I'll call your parents.” I called them, assured them everything was fine, just that Ara's boyfriend had broken up with her and I needed 'girl time'. They believed m; I hung up. Why don't I feel guilty for lying to her parents? I wonder often if I even have a conscious and if I do why it doesn't do its job. I never feel bad or guilty; it was unnerving.

I snap back to reality and immediately began to look through my mom's book of natural healing remedies. My parents were always living easy and partying; usually I'd criticize them, but now it was a blessing they were pot heads and drunks.

I put the mixture over the kitchen stove to 'brew' and I went over to Ara. She sat with her eyes open and unseeing. De-living it most likely. I'd give her warm milk tonight to ease her sleep.


“Time to get you washed up.” I murmured. It breaks my heart to see her like this. It is the worst feeling in the world to see your best friend, your God given sister, broken, dishearted and hurting.

I lifted her up again and I thank the Lord that I am by no means frail and that Ara was light.

Up the stairs and to the bathroom I walked. Turning on the hot water I helped her out of her clothes and was about to leave and give her her privacy, but I saw by her dropping lids I'd have to wash her or she'd fall asleep in the bath.

I washed her thoroughly with Lavender scented soap to soothe her and helped her dress in my mother's nightgown to give her freedom of movement and laid her in the extra-plush bed that graced my room.


“Now don't fall asleep just yet,” I say as I head down the stairs to the kitchen. The 'brew' was ready as I quickly microwaved a cup of milk and added a dash of honey and mounted the stairs once again.

I had her drink both and she submitted, barely conscious. She was asleep as soon as she finished. I kicked off my boots, took off my coat and slid under the down, heavenly covers. There was no possible way I'd leave her by herself because I know without human presence she'd have nightmares and I was happy not to have to sleep alone in the darkness.

I fell asleep into a restless sleep thinking dark thoughts about Cegin. He was going to suffer one way or another. Once I become your enemy you're in trouble. I'm a fun loving person until you mess with my friends. He would wish he was never put upon this God given earth.