CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 9

Catherine didn't sleep, just like she knew she wouldn't. She had laid down to rest and wept interchangeably throughout the day and next night, but still, no sleep came. Danny knocked on the door and came in to try to convince her to eat a few times, but to no avail. One time in and out of drowsiness she thought Bowen was in the room sitting across from her, but it was too dark, and she was too weak to be sure. Eventually Danny helped her force down some water, which helped her burning throat as the cycle continued.

Catherine lost track of time. She would have to return to work eventually, but she couldn't imagine ever returning to normal life. Catherine felt like her whole identity was gone. Could she ever reclaim a future for herself without her twin sister? Days like this droned on. She finally slept on the fourth day, but fitfully, woken multiple times by horrific nightmares that resulted in her being drenched in sweat and tears while her throat ached from the screams escaping it. Each time, Danny would check on her, or she would wake up being held by Danny as he tried to calm her down. Often she would be screaming and wouldn't wake from it. Catherine felt trapped. She saw no end to the torture.

One night she stayed perfectly still in her bed with the light on for hours. The moon was out, and stars winked at her through her window. She fell in and out of sleep, thinking of Kathleen and that horrible day. Catherine popped up in her bed, eyes immediately finding the closed door of her bedroom in front of her. My God, she thought. Catherine remembered. In her dreams, it had all happened right in front of her. As she slept, she felt trapped in her body, frozen and forced to watch the scene play out. Tears streamed down her cheeks freely. She didn't cringe. She silently cried, still as a corpse. After a while, she realized she wasn't just crying over missing her sister, or at witnessing her sister's death. She was crying because she felt angry. So many times, Catherine had jumped in to protect Kathleen, but she couldn't save her this time. With all of her strength, she had tried. Now she felt weak. She had been made a victim, and she was angry with herself for not being strong when Kathleen needed her to be.

Catherine had never hated anyone before. She knew immediately what it was she felt. Her anger and sorrow dug in deeper and deeper. It festered inside of her until it became a consuming, poisonous hate. She directed it not just at one person though, but many. She hated one being more than the others, and that was Kathleen's murderer, Conall. That was his name, according to Bowen.

Hours went by like seconds to Catherine now. No longer wallowing in sorrow, she had found a new way of dealing with the pain. She spent hours hating, and it gave her false strength. She no longer felt the pang of sadness except at random spurts of uncontrollable grief, or during her fitful nightmare-filled nights. The hatred allowed her to not just feel strong, but to let her push away all other feeling, to ignore what she could not handle or do anything about. Catherine knew this. She knew the extent this could go, knew what was happening, every step of the way. She felt she could never recover her former self, not even a glimpse. It felt like if she let go of the only stable ground she had, she would crumble. So, she was at an impasse. What else could she do? How could she save herself from this blackened night, full of endless pain and suffering? She didn't know, but she would hold onto that hatred for dear life until she did.

Catherine's thoughts were interrupted by sudden movement. She looked over and saw Bowen bumping into the bed as he entered the room. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her neck outstretched from her laying position as she looked up.

“I've given you time. We don't have any more time to spare, I'm afraid,” he said with a serious expression.

Catherine turned away.

“Catherine?”

“This is your fault,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“It’s your fault that all of this happened. You caused this chain of events,” she said, turning rapidly back toward him and throwing the blankets off of her.

Bowen looked bewildered. “I tried to save her, Catherine. You saw me try.” He started to come closer, but when Catherine flinched back uncomfortably, he stopped short and sat on the edge of the bed. Catherine stared into his eyes. Her own eyes felt dry and swollen from what seemed like years of crying. Her hands shook so much she had to grip a pillow to stop them. Catherine realized she must appear a mess. Her anger melted away into momentary peace, and in the liquid green of his stare, she forgot how awful she looked and felt.

“I'm sorry. I am so deeply sorry for what happened to you,” Bowen said, concern growing on his face as he watched her.

Catherine believed him. Bowen saw forgiveness start in her eyes. “Catherine, what I said before when we were leaving that place,” Bowen stopped to take a long breath, “I meant it. I really did.”

“That . . . you care about me?” Her voice was small.

“Yes,” he said. Catherine nodded slightly. “Which means I hope you can trust me. I will do anything to protect you. As long as I'm with you, I won't let anyone harm you.”

Catherine felt a rush, but she hastily buried it. She wasn't sure what he meant precisely.

“Bowen,” she started, “tell me about Conall.”

Bowen stood up and went to a window. Then he turned and sat closer to her on the bed, clasping his hands together. “What I'm going to tell you will not sound believable,” he said with a sigh.

“It's already unbelievable for me, but,” Catherine shook her head. “I understand.”

Bowen ran one of his hands through his hair. His gorgeous hair, Catherine thought before reproaching herself to pay attention. “What is your knowledge of the original Druids? The real ancient Druids?” he asked.

Catherine blinked a few times at the question. “I don't know much, just that the actual Druids were a society, and not just a group of supposed magical people,” she said.

“Hmm,” Bowen said. He tapped his index finger on his leg.

Catherine raised her eyebrow. Her hair fell from one side as she shifted in the bed, and she searched his face for answers.

Bowen breathed in and out deeply once before speaking again. “I'm over two thousand years old, Catherine. I'm an ancient Druid who lived here in Ireland all those years ago,” he said calmly, before watching Catherine closely.

Catherine felt as though maybe she had gone insane, that seeing her sister's death was too much for her. Maybe she had lost her mind earlier than that and Kathleen could actually be safe and back in the States still. She immediately shook the thought out of her mind. She nodded, and with her eyes wide and slightly frightened she simply insisted, “Continue. Please.” She cleared her throat and looked down to avoid his gaze.

Bowen sighed again in a reluctant manner, but he knew that she must know the truth.

“I was a doctor; I healed people with our methods of the time. I had no living relatives. They had all died from illness, and as I grew up, I wanted to prevent that from happening to as many people as I could. Conall . . . I knew him and his wife. They were a young couple when I first met them. He was so happy then.”

Bowen seemed reminiscent as he said that. Catherine looked over at him. “His wife died one day, and he was never happy again. As time went on, he became mad. Mad with rage and unimaginable sorrow. He became so vengeful and evil that my people had to put a stop to him. Nothing we did cured him. He brainwashed many of our warriors and caused an uprising against the priesthood. He said the priests were worshiping false gods and using our beliefs to control us all for power. His followers rapidly became as evil as he, and they hurt innocent people in their wild path.” Bowen's face looked strained, and he delayed for a moment to swallow. Bowen rubbed his face, then clasped his hands again to continue.

“One of the women of our order was a master with magic. I didn't like someone like her with that level of power, but regardless, she was the high priest's daughter. She put a curse on Conall and his followers to trap them in caves hidden within the hills and rocks. 'As long as their evil thoughts remained,' she said. The only other way they could be freed was if the curse was broken by a prophesied woman. That woman is you, Catherine. Until that day you unintentionally freed them, these madmen and I have lived in an ageless state. We cannot be injured, and we cannot die. That's all changed now. This was why I wanted you to leave Ireland, to prevent this from even accidentally happening. Now they are free, and they will hurt everyone they can. They will hunt for me, and they will kill you before they kill me. You can't stay here any longer.”

Catherine sat still, thinking. He stared at her, and it made her blush. Bowen decided to add a little more. “After I saw the high priest's daughter cast the curse in front of me, I—well I can't remember after that. I just know I woke up sometime later, far from home with the sun shining above me, and I was alone with grass grown thickly around my body. My clothes were worn, but my flesh and all of my body was the same. It could have been years later. I don't know what happened.”

Bowen took Catherine's hand. “When you broke the curse, it was like I could breathe again. I'm hungry, I get exhausted, and I thirst. I'm aging normally again. It is as though I held my breath for a long time without it being a bother to me, or even noticing really. Now my breath is back, bringing all of my senses and life along with it. It's so strange, Catherine.”

Bowen noticed Catherine's hand was soft and warm in his. Catherine noticed how his large, manly hand closed over her small one completely. His touch sent another rush through her, and she felt the excitement of noticing every part of it. Each finger, each slight, unconscious caress on her skin. It was either a gesture of sincerity or it could have been interpreted as something more. But which was it? Her breath came quicker, but she didn't allow him to see that.

“I must figure out a way to get them back into the caves to avoid further bloodshed,” he said, pulling his hand away.

“If they are no longer ageless, can't you just kill them?” she asked as she worked to control her breathing.

“I can't do that, I'm a healer. I can't just kill anyone, unless it’s in defense.”

“Even if they are evil and will hurt others, Bowen?”

“I can't kill them unless I have no other choice,” he replied.

“In that time, didn't everyone know how to fight to survive?” Catherine was puzzled by Bowen's unwillingness.

“Most, yes. I do know how to fight, Catherine. I'm not unable, nor am I a coward if that's what you're thinking.” He looked at her, slightly irritated.

“I wasn't trying to imply that, but it really is just because you're a doctor?”

“You seem to think because I can fight, I'm sure to win it. The group of Conall's followers we saw that day. . . it wasn't all of them. There are hundreds,” Bowen stated.

“What? Hundreds?” Catherine's voice cracked slightly.

Bowen's lips curved into a slight smile. “If it had only been a few dozen people rising against us before, a curse wouldn't have been needed. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands, I can't be sure exactly how many. They were scattered separately into the depths of the earth and rocks of Ireland. I spent a good portion of time looking for where exactly. Like Conall, most were trapped in caves where they couldn't be bothered by stray people. They couldn't see them either, or much else of the outside world. The curse was explained to me as not only meant to protect others from these people, but acts as a form of punishment for their actions as well.”

“So, Conall can't speak English because he's been trapped, but you can because you've been roaming Ireland for two thousand years?”

“Yes, essentially. I adapted to my surroundings. People couldn't know who I was. Especially in the modern age. For the most part, I hid, never to meet anyone new for decades at a time. I couldn't trust anyone, or take that risk.” He paused to think before continuing. “Catherine, as you may have noticed when you met him, Conall is strong. Unnaturally strong. One day he woke up this way, no one knew how. He and his followers were almost unbeatable in my time.”

Catherine had noticed how strong Conall was. She nodded in response, and silently pondered this amazing story, which to her misfortune was no work of fiction. So many questions were forming, and she was eager for answers. One came to mind that she was particularly curious about.

“Bowen?” she asked, breaking several minutes of silence.

“Yes?”

“Why am I the woman she said could break the curse?”

Just at that moment, Danny walked up to the open doorway. Catherine looked up as relief flashed across Bowen's face. He composed himself. “Hey, we should go do a missing persons report down at the Garda station before too much longer, Catherine,” Danny said.

“Right,” she agreed, and looked at Bowen. “Because we can't explain that she's dead.”

“No one else should know about this, Catherine.”

“I know. I really have no choice now.” Her voice trailed off as she remembered Bowen making a burial fire and burning Kathleen's body in front of her before they could return home. Catherine had collapsed and watched as the blazing fire reached up to the stars. She thought of how powerful fire was, how very little could fight against it. It destroys, creates and erases, but also cleanses. Her thoughts turned morbid as she thought about the ashes of her sister's bones in detail, and how her own would look if she were cremated one day. Danny snapped her back to reality with a meaningful grunt, much to her relief.

“Yes, Danny. We'll contact the Gardaí to file the missing persons report, or whatever it's called here.”

The doorbell rang, and Danny went to answer.

“Are you sure you're ready to leave this room?” Bowen asked her.

Catherine wasn't ready to heal if that's what Bowen meant, but she was sure she could step across that threshold. All because it meant getting a step closer to avenging her sister. “Yes."

Bowen eyed her curiously; he knew there was something more, but didn't say anything. He couldn't be sure exactly, for Catherine kept retreating, remaining a closed book. Bowen left the room to let her dress. His brow furrowed. Suppressing grief to deal with it, retreating inward from others, it was only a matter of time before she would explode. He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard Danny talking with someone at the door. He waited for Catherine.

She soon came out dressed in earth tone colored yoga pants and a T-shirt. Bowen lagged behind a bit as Catherine walked into the next room ahead of him. She saw the front door open with a man's tanned hand placing a card in Danny's. She heard Danny apologize and thank him before shutting the door.

“Who was that?” Catherine asked.

“A guy to check on Kathleen,” he said sadly.

Catherine felt a lightning bolt of alarm flash inside her chest. She felt sick knowing she would have to keep up a lie for the rest of her life in order to save everyone else's life. She wondered if she could handle it all without breaking. Catherine wished she were the pile of dust being blown away out in the distant fields and woods instead.

“He said she was supposed to meet with him a while ago for coffee. For a date,” Danny finished after a moment.

“Oh, yeah. That's right, she was,” Catherine said quietly to herself.

“He left me his card with a note on it for her,” he said, tossing it on the counter.

“You didn't tell him she was—you didn't tell him?” Catherine gulped away her desire to cry.

“No, I couldn't deal with it. He caught me off guard, Catherine,” he answered. “I'll remember to say she's missing though if it comes up.”

Catherine just nodded. Turning to the fridge for something cold to drink, she was stopped in her tracks when she saw the magnet pictures. She had moved or hidden all of the pictures she had of Kathleen on her phone or in her room. The corners of her mouth perked up slightly when she saw the familiar picture of Kathleen's silly expressions as a child, her favorite. Catherine remembered putting it up when she moved in. She hadn't thought about her sister dying, at least not for decades in the future. Many decades. Catherine realized she had always subconsciously assumed that she would die before everyone she cared about. She took down the magnets. Then, feeling the absence of her sister amongst the other pictures of the rest of the family and friends there, she cleared the front of the fridge of all pictures and threw them in a drawer.

Catherine felt more comfortable now. Though when the hallway mirror on the wall caught her eye, she saw herself for the first time in a while. The mirror image which stared back was haunting. She could never feel fully comfortable with a mirror again. Would anything be normal now? Anything tolerable? She turned away from her reflection.

Danny returned, saying he was ready to leave. Catherine noticed the bags under her brother's eyes. He looked sullen and exhausted, but he continued as if perfectly fine and unaffected. Catherine knew he was only keeping it together for her benefit. She worried about Danny and seeing him like this did, in fact, make things harder for her. She decided not to mention it.

Catherine took a deep breath. Next step, go outside. And she did.

***

Catherine asked Bowen to accompany her with Danny to An Garda Síochána, otherwise known as the Garda station. She was anxious before, but everything was blank now. Speaking with the officers and getting the report went smoothly. Though the idea of having to do such a thing was upsetting for both of the siblings, they kept each other calm.

While Catherine was trying to remember what Kathleen was wearing last for the missing persons report, she saw a woman in custody brought into the station. The woman looked dirty, and her clothes were mismatched with some new fabric wrapped around atop old torn ones. One of the Gardaí spoke to her, apparently not for the first time based on his frustrated tone, but the woman seemed unable to reply. Catherine was paying full attention now. She knew this woman must be one of the formerly cursed people. She thought she would feel enraged at the sight of one of them. Then again, after what Bowen said about the possibility of thousands of the ancient druids being here now, it was very possible this woman wasn't even there when Kathleen was killed. Catherine didn't recognize her face at all.

Catherine nudged Bowen. Upon seeing the ancient woman, he drew in a sharp breath.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“I've seen her before, among Conall's followers. I can't place it, but I know I encountered her before the curse,” he whispered back. He looked over Catherine's head and said, "Where did you find her?” to a Garda standing closest to them.

The Garda answered casually, “I haven't been notified, I just arrived. All I know is she won't speak to anyone, she's not in records of any kind. We suspect she's from another country since she doesn't seem to understand Gaelic or English.”

“Thank you,” Catherine said. The Garda nodded and walked away.

Bowen took a few steps forward and spoke quietly to the woman. Catherine couldn't dissect the ancient Gaelic language into comprehensive words. It ran together too fast for her to even make a guess. The woman looked up at Bowen with hate in her eyes. She seemed to know him too. Her low reply was muffled, but her anger was evident in the way she spat out the words. She glared and emphatically stepped back from him.

“What did she say?” Danny asked Bowen curiously. The woman shifted her eyes to Danny when he spoke, then turned away from them entirely as if she were alone in the room.

“She hates me, though that should be obvious to anyone,” Bowen said.

“Well, yeah. Did she say anything else?” Danny was very confused by the strange language.

“I can tell you her name is Síne.”