AN: No, your eyes don't deceive you. It's an update. And rather than explain myself in a long rant as to why I haven't updated until today just know that rewrites are the spawn of evil. They can go on forever. Well, for those of you amazing people still with me, enjoy the chapter! :)


Chapter 11: The Bridge - Part 1

Foul whisp'rings are abroad.

-William Shakespeare


Brian Reilly opened the morning paper with a grimace. A strange epidemic had washed over his city like the Plagues of Egypt. Unexplainable blood loss, disoriented patients, and loved ones reported missing were just the beginning. If the Good People didn't intervene and put an end to this powder keg, then he'd – Brian sighed. He'd almost forgotten that he was old. What was he going to do, beat them up with his cane 'round the knees?

Looking up from his paper, he watched disdainfully as his daughter cooed over Meredith and her fiancé. He shook his head. Poor Catherine, she didn't even see the glamour and realize that Meredith's young, handsome, and fabulously wealthy suitor was a fairy in disguise. Catherine wanted the picture perfect life so ferociously. At least they treat their consorts well – very well. A ghost of a smile curved his lips as he looked back to the newspaper. Confrontations were best made later in the day. And after a few drinks.


Maeve considered herself rather knowledgeable, especially when compared to her sister. One thing she knew for certain: it was very dangerous to linger in a fairy dwelling, especially at night. That had been one of the very first things Granda had ever taught her about the Good People. If she wanted her freedom, she had to leave the count's manor now, before it was too late.

She wished she'd never taken that walk that started this whole mess. If she had just stayed in bed that night properly, she would be at home with Granda this very moment, safe. She'd teach her students, quarrel with Meredith, and ignore her mother's blatant marriage hints. Maeve frowned gloomily, walking farther and farther from that accursed manor. Really, they're not hints at all. A clumsy stumble over a stray stone furthered her dark mood. Here she was, alone, most of her belongings surrendered save for what she stashed in her handbag, trudging back to Dublin. She'd almost forgotten that Ireland had rules about staying too long in a fairy's nest; she'd already spent one night in Dracula's manor. Therefore, she'd begun her escape shortly after breakfast, determined to resume her old – no, her real – life at home in Dublin where she belonged, with her family, and also where she was as free as she could ever be.

That was what she told herself, anyway.

Fearful of detection, Maeve had ducked under hedges to avoid Dracula's servants: these strange, disgusting creatures clad in black with large goggles on their heads, and made a break for the front gate immediately. Her back would cease to ache momentarily from her bent position and so all that really mattered was that by nightfall she'd be far from that Count Dracula and her traitorous friend. Maeve glared at the ground. How dare Felim side with the diabhal?

She kicked a rock shaped like a head. The Count's head, Maeve decided with a grin, though I haven't the slimmest idea what his face looks like…

That was very peculiar. Why had she never seen his face? It couldn't be a symptom of Nosferatu, could it? No, I've seen at least two of those nasty beasties, so it has nothing to do with that. Hmm…must be he's horribly deformed in the face, or just very terrifying, like an ogre.

Maeve kicked the rock again, sending it rolling a few feet in front of her. "Why, Felim?" she whispered aloud. "How could you think that this Count Dracula is a wonderful employer?" She'd hugged him when he entered the room and hadn't wanted to ever let him go. All those weeks… she'd thought her friend was dead, and then that Count Dracula had implied that something far worse had occurred. And all because she did not know how to help her friend that night he'd been taken. How could she have known how to deal with a myth? A terrifying myth, she thought with a shiver. And when she'd encountered the Count last night she'd felt a harsh, penetrating gaze spear through her, as if he were thoroughly examining her – all of her. Her face flushed uncomfortably hot at the memory. She walked a little faster.

Believing that creatures of the Otherworld were real and confirming that belief face to face were two things entirely. The most proof she'd ever had that the Good People were truly her neighbors was when she'd been a child and left a saucer of cream on her windowsill. In the morning, the treat had vanished.

"Mama! Mama, look!" young Maeve cried, running as fast as her eight year-old legs could carry her. Panting when she reached her mother, she shoved an empty bowl in Catherine's face. Catherine was unimpressed.

"It's a bowl," she said, "a dirty bowl." Maeve nodded eagerly.

"It is!" she exclaimed. "I left it out with our leftovers from supper last night for the faeries! They came to our home!" Catherine stilled. "Maeve, don't you ever, ever try to catch the faeries' attention! They do nothing but make our lives more difficult! Do you understand?"

Maeve frowned. "But Mama, they – "

Catherine stood up in a flash. "No excuses! Do not waste our food on them! Do you want to endanger our family?"

Maeve's lip trembled. She hung her head low and shook it. "No."

Catherine relaxed and allowed a soft smile to show. "Good girl. Now run along and wash that bowl." She dismissed her daughter with an affectionate pat on the head. Barely seconds after Maeve washed the bowl she ran to Brian.

"There, don't cry, little queen," Granda shushed. He rocked her slowly on his knee.

"I ... I don't want to hurt anybody," she sniffed.

"I know. You weren't hurtin' anyone, lass. You've made some friends with your kind gesture, you did!"

"Friends?" Maeve echoed, sitting up. She didn't have many friends. Most girls didn't like to play games in the mud and boys didn't want to be seen with a girl. She'd play with her brothers but they'd been sent away to some special school or something. She couldn't remember. "You really think so?" she asked Granda.

"I know so. Faeries have long memories and they adore thoughtful gifts."

To this day Maeve remembered Granda telling her how faeries loved presents. Furthermore, if they liked you, they were good to you. If they didn't, life would be very miserable for you, indeed.

Her visit to the library the day she had been exiled to 'Sir Roarke's' care hadn't taught her much about this unknown Otherworld race. There was little to be found about them. That was frustrating, even more so that her newfound knowledge didn't matter. Felim was safe and happy. Who was she to question her friend's decision? Even if he has abandoned his family and chosen to be with the Good People, I suppose I cannot really blame him, Maeve admitted. The fairies had many delights to offer. Though deep within her heart, she was envious of the freedom Felim now possessed, what he had chosen. She would never admit it.

Maeve had concluded one thing in her research. An Abhartach, an elfin blood drinker, plain and oafish, resembling corpses, made the Nosferatu familiar to her. So that meant that Nosferatu – vampires- and Abhartachs are relatives, if not the same creature. From now on, Maeve decided, I will call them vampires, as they are called in the books I found. That word is less frightening for a group of creatures related to the Good People, anyway. Maeve took a moment to ponder this. To survive on blood alone…was awful, to say the least. Maeve herself could never do it, but just because she disagreed, did that mean that it was all wrong? Granda had told her to keep an open mind, and in this case, she didn't want to. But there were plenty of things in life that she didn't like but had to accept, so perhaps this was one of them? Banshees after all are a helpful sort of death fairy. True, they brought about sorrow, but at least a family had warning before a loved one left them for Heaven, she thought. So as always with the fairies, things are not in black and white. They may be frightening, but that didn't always call for hatred. Truthfully, Maeve was fascinated by these creatures – what exactly were they? They were unfamiliar, but new and exciting. She was curious.

Even so, she would continue on her way home. She wanted nothing more to do with that Count Dracula. She had closure that Felim was safe and so her guilt was lifted by his free will. Funny, thought Maeve. It certainly hadn't looked like Felim had gone with the Count willingly. But Felim was right. I was tired and scared that night so… I guess that settles that. Maeve inhaled deeply; she knew there would be consequences, horrific consequences from her mother. But she trusted Granda. She would at last tell Granda everything, and then her world would be all right.

She had to believe that. Maeve exhaled.

She would never have to worry about vampires. No one had ever taken her seriously or held her responsible for the changes in her life – good or bad. But Granda would take care of everything, just as he always had. He was respected. Furthermore, he had always respected her. She felt horribly for not sharing her encounters with the fairies with him before. She should have. Maeve couldn't change the past, but she could affect her future. "I have the power to do that," she whispered, passing a small henhouse, the chit-chattering providing a light-hearted, amusing distraction from her thoughts. She looked for the horse and carriage that had brought her here, but neither one was in sight. She was definitely walking, but that wasn't too bad. She'd walked everywhere in Dublin at all hours of night or day. It made Maeve feel the most comfortable when she traveled on her own two feet rather than allowing a carriage to do all the work. Walking home should be simple. I can do that.

Again, Maeve inhaled deeply, this time welcoming the fresh air scent, and the pure aura that resonated from the land around her. Yes, she thought. This is paradise. There is just land without fences. No chaperones. No one controls me here in the countryside. Everyone but Granda did at home, and now that strange Count has tried to as well. Even worse, Felim has joined his ranks! All he did last night was sing the Count's praises like a nightingale! Preaching lies that he provides freedom and escape! Maeve swallowed hard. But it isn't true. I won't believe it. Dracula cannot control me, not now as I leave his house on my own two feet! Dracula and Felim's choices are not mine!

A low moo from the right startled Maeve. She tripped over a loose stone hidden by grass, and fell forward. She composed herself quickly and stood up straight turning in the sound's direction. There, not twenty feet from her, stood a cow.

Maeve blinked and cleared her throat. It was eerie the way it seemed to be…truly staring at her. "Hello, there," she said. It was very beautiful, for a cow. A bit too clean, thought Maeve. They're such lovely, gentle animals. A city girl, a life and everything involved with it in Ireland's countryside seemed wonderful. The cow mooed again. A flash of sun peaked from behind a cloud, causing Maeve to fling her hand to her eyes for shelter. When she looked again, the cow had disappeared. Her eyes widened.

"Where on God's green earth did that cow just – "

"All grown up now isn't she?"

"More or less. She isn't behavin' so mature a colleen, now, is she?"

"Ooh, what does she think she's doin'?"

Maeve froze. They were referring to her. She could feel it. "Who is there?" she called. Her only response was a long string of garbled words she couldn't understand, the creatures were talking so fast. Maeve strained her ears and took a step closer, realizing that the creatures were speaking in Gaelic.

"This wasn't part o' the plan, was it?"

"It may not be part o' the plan, but the Morrígan will love this!" There was a quick rustling in the grass a few yards from Maeve. She took a step back, her heart pounding. Were these faeries? True Fey – not these new vampires – but faeries like the ones she had grown up learning about? A delighted smile lit up Maeve's face. The Good People! Just like in the stories! She'd heard of the Morrígan before. She was a triple goddess and also known as the Phantom Queen. What does she have to do with me? Maeve's smile dropped like a stone in water. What if these faeries meant her harm? Her heart thudded. Relax, just relax. Don't anger them and I'll be fine. Granda did not raise a fool! There was scurrying to her left. Maeve licked her lips. Don't be afraid, she thought to herself.

"Excuse me," she called. "But would one of you be so kind as to show yourself?"

"Sorry, missy," came the reply. "But we're under orders, we are."

"Orders?" Maeve echoed, stepping closer. "Whose orders?"

Amused cackling overwhelmed Maeve's ears, making her wince.

"Daft little girl! Whose orders do ye think? You overheard us, didn't ye?" The faerie duo laughed again. Maeve, however, refrained from scowling. She disliked being mocked almost as much as she loathed hearing her intelligence insulted. She took a deep breath.

"The Morrígan?" she guessed.

"Ooh, she is a smart one! Well done, lass!"

"What does the Morrígan have to do with me?" Maeve's fear was completely replaced with curiosity.

"Everything," answered one of the faeries. The laughter had gone in his voice.

"And nothing," added the other, this time with a sly chuckle.

Maeve shook her head and chuckled herself. She needed a laugh. And here she'd been so afraid. "Might I ask for your names?"

"Aye, you could ask. And we might answer ye."

"Well, I am asking ye."

Laughter like the tinkling of tiny bells attacked her ears again.

"I am Daire," said the fairy with the kinder voice.

"And I, the better looking let me say, am Robin. I'd prove it to ye, but well…"

"You're under orders. I've heard." The wind whistled through the grass making it appear as if a snake were passing by on a quest. "My name is – "

"We know who ye are," Daire reminded her. Maeve flushed.

"Oh, of course. I forgot." The Fair Folk knew everything.

"Be careful o' forgetting things, Maeve Reilly. Forgetful mortals don't last long."

"Aye," agreed Robin, "and we want you to last a while. You have great potential, mortal girl."

Maeve felt a mixture of surprise and pride rush over her. "I do?"

Robin and Daire glanced at each other from the cover of the bushes and grinned. Hook and line," thought Daire to his companion. Sinker, agreed Robin.

"O' course ye do," Daire replied. "You've survived your encounters all by your lonesome self, haven't ye?"

Maeve couldn't help but nod. She had. Her sister never could have accomplished that. As a child, her sister had been the source of entertainment for her neighborhood's resident bullies. Meredith would cry and hide. Maeve pushed them all in the River Liffey after lessons.

"Which opens the door to a question I have for ye. What are ye doing on this fine day?" the fairy continued.

Maeve shifted uncomfortably. "I'm escaping."

"From Count Dracula?"

Maeve's green eyes grew as a wide as a well. "You know him?"

"'Course we do," said Daire. "He's as greedy as a goblin. But we do not fear him."

"He's the biggest stiff I've ever met, lassie. And he supposed to have this grand reputation with the ladies. Why any lass would think to have a jolly time in bed with a dead fish is beyond me," scoffed Robin. A smug grin teased his lips and laughter made his eyes twinkle.

Maeve's mouth dropped from the combined impulse to laugh and gasp. But then a nasty thought occurred to her. "He sent you, didn't?" she accused. "You want to trick me like any other dim-witted mortal. I do not know what he wants with me… but he sent you to sing his praises just like Felim!"

"Us? Defend him? Ha! Did you hear that, Daire? Quite a sense of humor, she has!" Delighted hooting followed. "He's not even one of us!"

This startled Maeve. "You mean… he's not a fairy?"

Robin snorted. Daire rolled his eyes. "Does Dracula sparkle like one of us?"

"Oi, we don't sparkle, either, you half-witted sod!" interrupted Robin. "We glow with magic. That sparkling nonsense is for sissy mortals who don't know Avalon from Elysium." His companion ignored him.

"Trust us, dearie," said Daire, detecting Maeve's uncertainty. "He is no kin of ours – but not completely an enemy. He's sport. You've been told our tales by your grandfather, yes?" Maeve nodded. "You've nothing to fear, lass. The vampire on the other hand…"

For some strange reason, Maeve felt pity. There were many dark tales of poor souls that suffered the wrath of the Good People. In fact as a child she'd suspected her grandmother had died from it. If the Count was a victim of their cruel tricks then that certainly explained his… unpleasantness during her interactions with him. She'd be in a foul mood too if she were the fairies' victim. The truth was that Maeve had never been so afraid of anything until she'd stumbled across him. Her greatest worries came from the English she'd been taught to hate and her mother's expectations. Dracula had frightened her more than she knew she could be frightened. She hated the feeling. She hated it more than she hated her failure as a woman. But now that those feelings had dimmed and she had an explanation... Maeve shook her head. Daire was talking to her and she was being rude as her sister.

"Then why are you here?" she asked after the fairy duo finished their explanation.

"Silly mortal," chided Robin. "Surely you know your choices?"

"Choices?" Oh what a lovely word that was.

"Aye."

"I… I'm listening." Maeve felt her heart quicken.

The bushes rustled as the duo slunk through the shrubbery. "It's quite simple," Robin replied silkily. "You plan on going home don't you? But what would you find there?" He paused and smiled grimly. "Don't answer that aloud, Maeve Reilly."

"It is well known of the rigid woman Brian's daughter has become," Daire continued. Maeve's skin prickled at the sound of her grandfather's name on the lips of a fairy. That was odd.

"Honestly, Daire," interrupted Robin. "I do not think young Maeve is as bright as we thought."

"I beg your pardon," Maeve said, stunned at the sudden change of mood. She missed Robin's wink.

"Oh, aye," Daire suddenly agreed. "If she be a smart lass she'd realize she didn't have to scurry home to her mama. She could start a new life anywhere she wanted. She could possess freedom."

Maeve paused. "Wait… just – just listen. I can't just disappear. They're my parents. My family and honor… I can't just run away from that and be selfish. I want them proud of me!" Like they are always proud of Meredith without her even trying…

"Aye. And you've always done what they commanded, have ye? Like takin' that teaching position. Your mother loved that, didn't she?"

Maeve scowled. "That was different – "

"Admit it, girlie. Ye haven't the pluck to do anything without permission!"

"That's not true! I snuck out of the house at night! I went to the library after work instead of coming straight home like I was told!"

The faeries laughed at her. "The heroes of old tip their hats at your courage, milady!" Robin hooted. "Centuries before your birth, warrior women fought alongside Finn MacCool in the Fianna tribe, the pirate Grace O'Malley stood before the Virgin Queen without fear in her heart and you cannot even make up your own mind!"

"How am I supposed to know what is right and what I want with so many… variables? This is not like my classroom where all the answers are in the textbook. So stop laughing at me!"

"You laugh when something is amusing, do ye not? So do we." The voices began to fade. The fairies were leaving. They had done their job.

"No, wait!" Maeve cried as she rushed forward. "Do not leave, please! What do I do?"

"She's a coward after all… pity." Their voices became echoes and just as sudden they had appeared they had vanished. That was their way. Maeve found herself sitting alone atop a bridge over the River Boyne. She wanted to hate and cast blame but didn't know what or who to stick it to. She wanted to scream she felt so frustrated and uncertain. But she couldn't just sit on the bridge, her legs dangling over the side forever. She had to make a decision.

She wanted to live a happy life. She hadn't felt carefree happiness in ages and freedom, oh, how did one achieve that without dishonoring their family? Maeve pinched the bridge of her nose. Oh, make up your mind, you ninny! She thought angrily. Things would improve once she had a plan. Granda, think of Granda. What would he do? She had been sent here to be married but now that that obligation was obsolete… perhaps she could seek out her brothers and live with them. And it really was so lovely out here, surrounded by the lush, vibrant countryside.

She hated something else about Dracula. She didn't know him at all but he had been right, damn him, right about her mother. Catherine had sold her to a man she had never met. She didn't care about what Maeve wanted. Maeve clenched her fists in her lap. Her mother had told her she'd loved her for the first time in years – once she had won. Once Maeve's fate had been forged to Catherine's will, she showed affection. Maeve's green eyes shut tight in hurt. Dracula knows nothing…he knows nothing of me. He'd would have had to be spying on me to know these things… he must be wrong! Then why was Mama so happy to ship me off? Why was she always angry with me until that deal had been made with a faceless man, eager to be rid of me until Meredith's wedding day? Maeve opened her eyes, her gaze hard and determined.

There is nothing for me in Dublin, save for Granda. I will seek his advice and then I will leave.

But now that she had made her choice she was robbed of it. A scaly paw gripped her ankle and wrenched her down into the shadowed water below her before she could even scream. The creature had only one thought:

Hungry.


AN: Penny for your thoughts?