Chapter 2: An Unexpected Disturbance

Long hours had passed since Maeve's grandfather had told her the tale of Finn MacCool. It had always been one of her favorites, yet she was still restless. In a spontaneous decision, she had climbed out her window and into the world of the witching hour. She hoped that taking a walk would appease her. Besides, she had never been outside at night without an escort before. She could not resist her own curiosity. What lies in the dark? Why did so many fear it? Nothing truly horrible could be present during a time when the binding horizon never came. The sky reflected the world at night. It was dark, but light could still shine through. Each bright star shone like a diamond for a specific person on earth, or so Maeve believed. The airborne jewels were many in number, but Maeve's favorite beauty of the night was the full moon.

It outshone every star and cast an eerie, yet beautiful sheen on the land. Now the moon was the grin of a smug feline, but it would not be long before the moon had its moment of triumph and was the true gem of the night sky. For now, the stars could quarrel over who was the brightest. But the stars that winked at her also taunted her. "You are always trapped in the house!" they cackled. "We are up here in the endless sky, bound by no one's rules! We can shine our brightest! You cannot! You sit at home in bondage to your parents like a silly, little girl!"

It was true. As zealous as her heart was, she had never faced a true tragedy in her life. Her heart had never been broken. The English paid little mind to Dublin, only interested in the farmland of the country. Her biggest mêlée of each day was suffering through a pair of practical, domineering parents. She had grown up quite sheltered, to put it bluntly. And so it was with a rare feeling of devious excitement that Maeve made her way down the wall of her home and onto the ground for a few moments of freedom.

She was near the ground when her skirt caught one of the branches on the surrounding shrubbery. Maeve tugged on her skirt with one hand. Nothing happened. She tried again harder, and the shrub still held her skirt captive. Now Maeve bit her tongue to save herself from having to attend Confession after Mass this Sunday. Her mother would love that, especially once she explained why. "You know," she muttered under her breath. "Sneaking out of your home at night has always been portrayed more romantic in books." Now gritting her teeth, she tugged harder and harder until finally, she freed herself from the branch's hold.

Unfortunately, that meant nothing was holding her to the wall.

Maeve learned a hard lesson: Gravity is not your friend.

"Oh!" Maeve gasped, wincing at the minimal pain. It was not a far drop from her window to the ground, but to fall on your back from the distance would most definitely be a cause of physical discomfort. She could already feel the bruises forming like a row of chain links down her back. Fine, she thought crossly. Meredith wins the bet. I would not be a good scout against the English if Ireland needed it… I don't think I need to tell her that though.

Maeve remained silent for a moment, to be certain that she had not disturbed anyone's rest. She heard nothing but the crickets playing their violins. Standing up, Maeve dusted herself off and surveyed her damage. There was a rip in her skirt from captivity. She would have to sew it up before her family saw it. After further investigation, Maeve felt something warm trickling down her thigh. Analyzing it, she found that she had managed to cut herself, too. The branch had been sharp enough to saw through her skirt and into her flesh. "Oh that's just wonderful," she murmured. Cursing the evils of pointy vegetation, she mopped her cut up with her skirt.

Despite this rather humiliating setback, Maeve still had a mind to take a quick walk. Just a quick walk down the river and back, then she would return to bed. Hopefully then her head would be willing to succumb to her pillow. Rubbing her arms for warmth, she turned her direction to the Liffey River and started walking. Ireland was beautiful at night, she mused. The land truly transformed into another world once the sun yielded for the night. The world of the sídhe changed everything, making it more exquisite.

Unfortunately, Maeve was too far away to hear a swift, dangerous figure cut through the night like lightening, knocking another restless sleeper to the ground.

Farther down the Liffey, Maeve had made her decision to turn around and return home. At last she felt drowsy and was ready to retire. Besides, she was nearing Felim's house and he lived with his family over a mile from her home. At that thought, Maeve smiled. Felim McHenry, the son of a fisherman, had been her friend since childhood. A once skinny youth that had loved to race her had had his adolescent metamorphosis into a very handsome young man. However his constant mischievous glint remained carved in his eyes. Felim was a strong man from hauling fishnets, a hard worker, and had a heart of gold.

It would be very difficult to find a man as kind or cheerful as Felim McHenry. If Maeve's memory served correctly, she could count the times she had ever witnessed Felim's anger on one hand. When Maeve had first realized that Felim was a boy and she was a girl, she had secretly hoped that he would seek to court her. Her mother's hope for that event had not been so secret. Yet he had never called on Maeve once for romantic reasons.

That was long in the past now. Felim was her brother, her friend. In any case, she had always loved him, but had never been in love with him. Though just because they were friends did not mean she did not take advantage of hot summer days when anyone with a speck of intelligence spent the heat waves in the river. She, like her fellow females, had every right to appreciate fine male flesh. The men certainly appreciated looking at the women enough. But unlike the men, the young women would blush and look away demurely before their gazes were caught. Men had not yet mastered the art of being inconspicuous.

With the McHenry house in sight, Maeve noticed something peculiar: there was a potent mist covering the river and the shoreline. But this mist was far darker and consuming than any she had ever seen before. It was smoke. And the thick cloud seemed violent and pulsating. One should be careful not to fall into this vapor inferno, or you might be lost in it forever. What piqued the girl's curiosity more was that the mist was only this thick on this side of the river. The other side was completely normal. Maeve decided to take a closer look when a disturbing sight met her bewildered eyes.

Felim was lying on his back on the ground.

There was a dark shadow crouched over him.

The masculine-like shadow appeared to have his mouth on Felim's neck. Maeve's eyes grew large with confusion. No, she thought with a shake of her head. There is not a mouth on Felim. He may not court often, but Felim does not take an interest in men.

Was it some sort of wild animal? But there was nothing this large around Dublin… And the shape appeared to be human. Snapping out of her shock, Maeve dared a step closer. Now she could see that Felim's face was stark white, his eyes were bulging, threatening to burst free from his skull, and his lips were frozen in a silent scream of terror. Maeve could not move now the cold realization crashed upon her.

This shadow, this creature, was killing Felim.

No! This was not happening. This could not be happening. Not to Felim. Whatever this ominous beast was, it was most certainly not human. It came from the Other World. It came from a dark realm from the Other World. Felim could never hurt anyone. He had never hurt anyone. So why was the sídhe hurting him?

"Stop!" her voice cracked, not sounding nearly as effective as it had in her head. "He has done nothing to you!"

The dark figure froze immediately and in one languid movement, the sídhe was looking directly at her. Maeve's throat constricted. She could not back down now. "Why?" she whispered. "Why do you hurt him so?" The sídhe's body was only an endless shadow. She could see nothing of its face, its legs, nothing. But she could see a pair of rampant azure eyes piercing through her. The furious blue eyes seemed to have lightening striking within the storm to further state its rage. The sídhe glared through her, entering her entire soul to make her quiver from the inside of her heart. It moved its eyes from her face and journeyed down her body like claws securing its prey. But its expression changed for a brief second once it found her waist. Maeve could have sworn it appeared hungry. It seemed to eye her body as if her skirt was not there to hide her bloody wound.

Blood. Her blood had seeped into her skirt after she had fallen. Judging by the condition Felim was in, this creature enjoyed blood. Realizing this, she felt the air grow colder, the chill snaking down her spine in an icy embrace. The mortal girl felt suffocated by this display of power, by this particular lust from the Other World. My God, she thought. I have disturbed a powerful dark sídhe. I am going to die. Felim is going to die if he has not died already. Oh Lord, please have mercy on us both! I did not know this would happen!

In that precise moment, Maeve felt her fear in its entirety surface. Her heart received the message and began to pound violently, aching to be free of her ribcage. Her lungs could not give her enough oxygen. It was as if those wild sapphire orbs spoke to a part of her buried deep within her – and that part of her was screaming "danger" at her. An instinct older than civilization was begging her to run, to flee far from this shadow, to leave Ireland far behind her as long as this beast roamed the shadows.

But she couldn't move. The force that pleaded with her to escape also held her feet captive on the spot.

The creature, finished with its visual investigation of Maeve, scowled at her once more and then was gone, taking Felim with it. The air returned to its natural temperature and Maeve was knocked from her daze. The smoke above the river cleared. Everything looked ordinary again, except that Felim was gone. But they could not have just vanished! Or could they? Maeve looked around in a rush, afraid that the sídhe might now be watching her, waiting to leap upon her to end her life for her interference. "Felim?" she whispered to the darkness. "Felim, are you still here?"

No answer. Her cries were in vain. Felim was really gone. Maeve swallowed and hugged herself to ward off her internal shaking. He's gone, she thought mournfully. My friend is gone. There is nothing more I can do. One thing to do: she needed to get away from this place. After a final glance told her that the creature had gone for good, Maeve awoke her sleeping muscles and broke into run for home.

--

The creature appeared in his newest lair, a tornado of ire and panic throbbing between his temples. Had he a heartbeat, it would have been at an accelerating speed. A girl had almost seen him. A girl had nearly destroyed all of his hard work. A girl had nearly sent him back into the open arms of eternal punishment.

No, he thought angrily. I will not go back! I refuse! He would deny it on pain of hell, but after realizing that the intruder was female, he had felt a flicker of fear. A mortal girl had arisen his dread. The devil's warning had screamed in his ears, Lucifer's cold laughter had clattered fiercely like the executioner's axe. Count Dracula was certain of one thing: he would never go back.

"I will not be punished for another's deed," he hissed to himself. "And that girl will pay." That girl, he mused. More like a young woman actually, now that he thought about it. Had he not been so alarmed he would have sensed his usual symptoms of desire. Except now he was furious, and that was what mattered for the moment. She had surprised him: a feat rarely accomplished by anyone, ever. And that sin of hers would be her death. She owed him pension for what she had almost done to him. And all the debts he collected were paid in blood.

On the topic of blood…

Dracula looked down at the Irish youth slumped on the floor of his manor. He needed to quarantine him until his conversion was complete. "Antonio!" Dracula barked. Immediately the servant answered the call of his master.

"Master!" he exclaimed. "I did not expect you back until dawn. I have not finished refurbishing the manor with your belongings – "

"Never mind that!" the count snapped. He indicated the body on the floor. "I just finished turning him," he began. "He will begin to change soon. Barricade him in the cellar."

"Yes, master," Antonio answered. He lifted the new recruit up with ease and slung him over his shoulder. He made to leave for the cellar, but lingered to risk a question for his master. "Master? Are you well? You do not look yourself. You do not look like you did at sunset." His master was outraged at something, though he hid the emotion with expertise. But Antonio had known his master for years, long before he had even entered his master's service.

Dracula caught Antonio's concerned gaze. Faithful Antonio. The Spanish vampire was a prized servant yet not a brainless oaf. That was why he tolerated it when Antonio occasionally crossed the line. "Nothing is wrong, Antonio. Do as I commanded."

A compliant nod followed by, "yes, master" and Dracula was left alone. Recounting the events by the river, he smirked. Oh yes, that pretty woman would pay dearly for the injury she had done him. He could picture that soft neck now, how slim it was, how fragile. How easy it would be to break that neck, to scar and mar it, to make it bleed in pretty designs for him to behold. Her green eyes would widen again, like they had tonight when she had seen him. Her heart would throb for all it was worth again because of him. She thought she had been frightened tonight? Oh, she did not know the true meaning of fear! But those lovely eyes of hers would look stunning as she trembled before him. Those absinthe-colored eyes that begged to be gazed into and lost forever… Oh yes. Lost forever, indeed. At least, she would be lost forever among the many corpses that followed in his footsteps once he had had his pleasure.

Now Count Dracula felt more like himself. Imagining that sweet little fairy's delightfully prolonged demise did him wonders. Fairies were pets that lived as long as their honeybee companions. Fairies were delicate creatures that were favorite toys of his to break. Fragile things in Dracula's life would thrive beautifully in his beckoning hands and be destroyed in the next moment once the fancy took him. Which was why once he strode about his new manor to oversee his servants his lips harbored the ghost of a triumphant smirk.

Fairies belonged with their flowers, not playing with an untamable fire.


AN: I owe a big thank you to all those who have reviewed thus far. And a special thanks goes to SpeedDemon, because your review last time cracked me up big time. XD And then I had this whole Vlad vs. Jack convo in my head afterwards.

This chapter was on the short side, and for that, I apologize. But I needed to split up the events for this chapter and the next. It will hopefully make sense later. Maeve's friend Felim's name is Irish for "always good." We shall see how that little fact plays out in the story. The next chapter will be up soon.

Thanks for reading! All comments, concrit, shout outs, etc are most velcome.