Moira woke up to two large green orbs hovering over her. Blinking she realized it was just her Fox. "He hasn't left your bed since he woke up yesterday. Been waiting for you I guess," a gruff voice said, "You both gave us quite a scare. Fell out of the sky like God himself sneezed you out of heaven. Been asleep for nearly three days. Thought you was dead, girlie."
The boy got off of her as she tried to sit up, taking in her unfamiliar surroundings. She was tucked into a soft bed with all white sheets and iron head and foot boards. A tray with toast and luke warm tea sat uneaten next to a partially melted, unlit candle stick kept each other company on a chest of drawers next to her. The room was warmly lit by the sunny day leaking through the open window as a breeze soothed her. Than man who had spoken sat in a wooden chair. Long chocolate hair nearly touched his broad shoulders as his grey streaked beard hid the worn lines and wrinkles of his pale scarred face. Unreadable green eyes watched her every breath while she slept. Witch green eyes. They were safe. They had made it.
"You mind telling me your name? It's not every day we have someone fall from the sky," he tried to smile warmly. "Moira," she said quietly. She was still very tired and felt very overwhelmed. "What about the boy? He hasn't spoken a word since he woke up two days ago. Hasn't left your side either for that matter," the man huffed. Moira wasn't sure what to say. She hadn't ever named her brother. He was referred to as 'The boy' by the vampires who took care of them. No, held them captive. She called him her little fox as a nickname. She mumbled out hesitantly, "Fox?" The boy perked up in her lap helping to solidify her quick thinking. It suited him well. "Fox? What a curious name. Well, my name is Silas," The man stood up and offered her his hand to help her out of bed. She felt a little faint, but was well enough to walk. Her little fox grasped her hand tightly as they followed Silas out of the room.
"Aiofe wanted me to bring you to her as soon as you were awake. Plus I think a warm meal will do you both a mercy," Silas chuckled. He brought them to a large dining room where a dozen people sat. Most were women, but all the occupants in the seats had the same green eyes. She felt the now named Fox hug her legs as he hid behind her. "Have a seat," a plump blonde woman ordered. Moira sat. She slowly took in the faces staring at the two of them. One face was familiar. "Margret?" she called out. The woman looked away ignoring her. "Moira, we would like to first a foremost congratulate you on surviving the vampires and welcome you into our home," the plump woman out stretched her arms and a multitude of cakes and sweets appeared on the table as the others began to peck off the magical food. Moira wasn't hungry.
"I was wondering how you got here? You fell from the sky! Then your little friend here was in tatters and healed faster that anyone we have seen and all without a drop of our magic. You gave us quite a scare since you have been asleep for some time now. How did Beatrice do it?" the plump woman blinked, owl eyed and curious. The other guests all whispered amongst each other curious as well.
"Beatrice is dead," Moira said flatly without emotion, "I wrote a spell that transported us here. I call it the Rabbit Hole Spell."
Everyone seemed to be talking louder. Beatrice dead? This small young girl writing her own spells? Impossible! Only a very select number of witches wrote their own spells and many of them died in the process after years of training. This girl must be half-mad. "Your mother died sending both of you here?" the woman gasped. "No. Our mother died months ago. After none of you responded to her pleas of help!" Moira was shaking with anger as well as the silver ware and glossy white plates as her body seemed to pulse with rage and power, "As I said before, I wrote the spell that sent both of us here."
"She truly is mad. The vampires must have driven her insane," a pointy nosed teen age girl cackled. Margret finally spoke up, "Even worse. She is claiming the boy is her brother somehow. I just saw her before she was taken and there is no way she had a second child."
Moira was furious, "Y'calling me a liar?" After all they been through and everyone was speaking as if she wasn't even there. The candles' flame exploded at her outburst catching the pointy nosed girl's sleeve on fire. Moira watched it burn, smiling wickedly. "Stop it!" the pointy faced girl sobbed as everyone sat stunned, not doing anything. Snapping her fingers, Moira turned the sleeve to ice.
All eyes were on her in awe and fear. No one that young should be able to do that. Children her age normally were just barely figuring out basic tricks with the help of an elder. And not multiple spells and manipulating multiple elements at once. Not unless…
The plump woman handed her a glass of water with shaky hands, "Can you freeze the water?" Moira lifted the water out of the glass, formed it into the shape of a flower, froze it mid-air, and dropped it into the glass with a CLINK! Next she handed her a seedling that Moira made bloom into an apple tree. Moira was next instructed to make it cloudy which in her still frustration and rage made it rain outside. "Impossible," Silas gasped behind her, "She is a Spirit."
"A spirit? Like a ghost?" Moira was confused.
"No, nothing like that. Every witch is tied to an element. Where they tap into their magic. Water, Air, Fire and Earth. But there are a rare few, so rare that only one can have the powers of a spirit witch at a time, who can tap into every element as well as have control over the element Spirit," Silas explained, "I control air. My wife Aoife is an Earth." He gestured to the plump woman. Everyone continued to gawk at her, like she was a wild animal.
"And I'm guessing Fox is a fire?" Moira shrugged still trying to take everything in and process it. "The boy? Are you sure he is your brother? Like Margret said, your mother only had one child," Aoife's face twisted into a sour pucker. Moira lifted her little brother on to her lap. "Do the leaf trick with the candle. They really want to see what you can do," she whispered, encouraging him. Fox touched his hand to the candle wick lighting it as everyone sat stunned. He was too young to show any witch abilities. If his eyes didn't confirm he was a witch, then the fire trick did. "But I still don't see how chronologically he could be your brother?" Margret huffed unimpressed.
"Well, this you might all want to sit down and listen up for," Moira stood tall, trying to sound as confident as possible, "Fox is not normal by any means of the imagination. He ages much faster than any human or witch. My mother was not directly killed by the vampires. She died giving birth to Fox, my half-brother. As impossible as it sounds, his father was one of the vampires who captured us. Fox is half witch, half vampire."
Now everyone was yelling and screaming at each other. Impossible! She must be truly mad. We must destroy it, we can't have a vampire's spawn in this house. No, he's one of us. He will kill us, either on accident or on purpose. He will lead all the vampires on us. I don't care.
"SILENCE!" Silas yelled so loud the entire room shook before he calmly asked Moira, "I expect you have proof of this?"
Moira nodded instructing her brother to run to the other side of the room as fast as he could. They watched as he seemed to appear in a flash on the other side, moving too fast for their eyes to trace. They watched as he snapped a spoon in half and scaled the wall like an insect. "Well there is no guarantee he won't be a danger to us or innocent humans," Margret huffed looking down at the sheepish child, who ran back into Moira's lap. "And if I could prove he's not a danger?" she glared at her aunt, who seemed to now find every excuse to hate them and argue with them. "Then we will offer our full protection," Silas gave Margret a pointed glare, putting her in her place.
Moira hopped out of her chair and grabbed Fox's hand as she led him outside. "Are you Thirsty?" she asked softly. He hadn't fed in a couple days and had to heal from a grave injury. He had to be starving. He nodded perking up, feeling the excitement of a potential hunt. The promise of blood. Luckily there were woods bordering the gigantic house they exited. Moira told the witches who had followed them out to wait, as her brother began sniffing the air, trying to track potential prey. He had gotten very good at hunting for such a small child over the last couple weeks. He then took off sprinting after a creature that rustled out of the bushes. "Shouldn't you stop it? What if it hurts someone?" Aoife murmured nervously to her husband. Moira turned to her, sighing impatiently, "I have helped to train him to only hunt animals. He can survive of blood of either humans or animals as well as human food. Can prove it t'ya if ya' ju' give'm five fehking minutes!" She screamed the last sentence, sick of her new family doubting her. She almost missed Avi and Lila. At least they always believed in her and listened to her. The witches were stunned at her brash language. And from such a young lady. Let them, Moira thought.
And without a doubt Fox returned, blood smeared on his face and hands. He dragged a now dead doe, a proof of his kill. "I did it," he smiled proudly as Moira helped clean the blood of his face. "See? He can hunt animals to survive. He isn't a danger to us or humans," Moira. Many of the witches, although disgusted by the Halfling, seemed to relax. "Well he is rather cute if you think about it," one whispered. "He could be useful. Train him to protect us," another pondered. Margret was still not impressed, "Fine, he can stay for now. But if he spills one drop of innocent blood, we will destroy him and anyone who gets in our way." That was okay with Moira. She had won this round.
Their new family eventually warmed up to her and her little brother. He would run around with the other children of the witches. Moira, although still trapped in her small form, no longer found joy in 'play'. She was content to just watch her brother run around, chasing and running away in games of tag and hide and go seek. He was happier here and so was she.
The other witches wanted to know how the Rabbit Hole spell worked. She helped teach them, even if many were difficult students. They hated that she was more powerful than them and a mere child. Moira didn't think she was special. Had they spent the lasts months memorizing and practicing until the candles ran out of wax? No, they only practiced light magic that wouldn't hurt a fly. Useless White magic Moira soon learned. Many of the spells Lila and Avi had her try were Black magic, such as bring the bird back to life. A spell to make people hallucinate. Another to make their heads feel like they were exploding. It all scared the witches how easily Moira took to Black Magic and how she felt no guilt in hurting people. Maybe I am truly wicked after all, Moira mused as Margaret whispered to another witch, whose name was Abagail. The night before Margaret had been eating her humble supper when she suddenly began coughing uncontrollably as something thick and slimy worked its way up her throat. In horror, she screamed as several leeches landed in her beef stew. Truly wicked.
The only one who helped her practice more useful spells was Silas. He was over five thousand years old and had spent his conditional immortality scouring the globe, learning of many different cultures and their magic which is why he was such a tolerant individual of things that did not coincide with ordinary. He had enjoyed afternoon tea with Chinese dragons, battled god-like Incan Emperors in hand to hand combat in the New World, floated on the backs of crocodiles the size of mansions down the Nile after escaping curses from sandy pyramids, and even shared a supper or two of raw lamb (since he declined on the raw school girls. They would had caused indigestion after all) with Werewolves under a new moon. Rumor had it he had even played chess with the god Hades in his palace of death. He had seen Stonehenge erected and secretly knew the reason the structure had been risen in the first place. He was truly a wondrous individual and an even more extraordinary mentor as he retold and recited the tales of his voyages while stroking his grey ridden brown beard.
Each night the Visions would come creeping into her dreams. Some were happy. Of her hand and hand with a brunette man. Fox a strong young man. Seeing the world outside the oyster of fear and suspicion that was now their life. "Come away with me," Silas offered one day amidst her tutoring. Come away with me, Avi's voice use to echo in her dreams. She knew she would not be here for long.
But some of the Visions would occasionally be frightening. Henri March still hunted them, injured and enraged. He wanted them dead and would scour the world for them. Although she disliked much of her family, she couldn't let them get slaughtered on their account. Not one drop of innocent blood, Margaret routinely warned.
Moira one night woke in a fit of screaming and sweat as she watched Henri March drain every drop of her blood in front of Fox's eyes. She needed to do something, the visions were getting clearer and more frequent. In her white nightgown, she made her way to the stables where she found Silas grooming a gorgeous mare. "I need you to teach me how to kill a vampire," she gasped out, tired from running. Silas smiled, looking at the small girl, entertained by her valour, "There are many ways to kill a vampire. Many ghastly, terrible ways. Are you sure you can stomach them?"
"If it means protecting Fox and the others. I don't see why being a witch is so special if you can't use it to help the people you love," she crossed her arms.
"Have both you and your brother come see me tomorrow night. I have been doing some research of my own on vampires and the existence of half-vampires. This isn't the first case I have heard of it, but I never had the chance to see one for myself so I wasn't sure. I have heard many tales and legends about his kind and I have a couple theories I would like to test out. I think he will make an outstanding ally."
Moira and Fox found Silas at the edge of a trail that lead them through a boundary of trees. He carried a heavy iron lantern and canvas sack filled with many strange, unrecognizable objects. Fox's eyes darted through the dark gloom, accustomed to not ever needing light to see. It was easy to forget that he was a creature of the night. Finally they reached a clearing. Silas set down the lantern and canvas sack slung over his shoulder.
"Over the years I have been searching for ways to arm ourselves against one of our greatest threats. Anything from Hawthorn stakes to iron crosses to silver daggers. While traveling in Eastern Europe, I came across an odd sort of fellow. A young man who looked no older than eighteen, but had the ripe look in his dark brown eyes similar to an old man. He claimed to be an expert at killing vampires. One had been ravaging the village, taking a new victim each week. Until one day he appeared claiming he was this thing called a 'dhampir'. I did not know what it meant at the time. He moved nearly as swift as the demon and fought nearly as strong as such. But bled and broke just as a human, but not nearly as easily. But he had a simple knife. When the blade touched the monster, it hissed and burned. But as soon as the young man stabbed the vampire in the eye, the thing crumpled. I remember the sickening sugary smell as he burned the body. The way the flames turned purple and screamed as if the vampire's dark soul was fighting to escape Hell. The town hailed him as a hero, claiming to make him their new mayor, rich beyond his imagination. He only asked humbly for a fresh set of clothes, a few days' worth of food and a couple night's keep at the local Inn. I had the privilege of speaking with him. He was a secretive fellow, wouldn't share any hints of his origins or past. But he did tell me what the knife was made of."
From the bag, Silas pulled out a knife. "I have made the liberty of adding a few changes."
It was beautiful. Celtic knots were carved into the blade and ebony leather dressed the handle. I reminded her of a blade used in sacrifices. "The young man had coated the blade in the saliva of a werewolf. He said vampire venom also works as well as coating a blade in oil then lighting it on fire. I had coated this one in both vampire and werewolf venom. So careful handling it. One scratch and you never know what terrible creature you may become," Silas warned, "I am going to teach you both how to wield it as well as fight."
Silas began training Fox. Every night he would teach him a new skill. The boy was a fast learner. More coordinated and agile than Silas could imagine. Even without an opponent to practice with, he proved to be a keen fighter. Whether it was teaching him styles he had learned in the Orient, techniques from the jungles of Brazil or even the combat of roman gladiators. And in time the boy learned to also trust Silas. Even in his short life span, a good majority of it had been tainted by the abuse of Henri March, his father, leaving him scared of people. Fox hardly spoke to anyone but Moira. And now Silas. "How was that?" he would ask. He now resembled a nine-year-old, seeking approval from authority figures. He trained hard, fearful as well of the dreaded reunion with his father. Next time, he would not let him hurt him or Moira. He could protect them.
Soon he was taught fencing. Now confident in training Fox, Silas moved their lessons from the secrets of the night to the openness of the day. The witches would watch as Silas drilled him day in and day out. As he trained to protect them. "Maybe allowing him to live was a good idea after all," Aoife shrugged lazily over a cup of tea as the house cleaned itself and pan filled themselves with bread and the kettle boiled before floating over to refill their tea pot.
Moira put as much determination into learning to fight as she did memorizing and learning spells. She learned slower than her brother, but she was also much more limited physically. Her clumsy, slow steps rivaled his swift, deadly and precise movements. Fox was designed to kill, a child of a monster. Moira would watch him break stones with his hands, he crushed the bones of badgers and bears without blinking. Every day he grew stronger before her eyes. At first, she felt frustrated in her lack of ability and strength. "You two are similar, but yet so very different," Silas would remind her. He helped her with her visions. "Breath slowly and open your mind to the possibilities," he would instruct. They often scared her but, she opened herself to the future. Instead of nightmares threatening to invade reality, she could make the happen during the day. She could see the outcomes of many trivial decisions. If the pointy face teenage girl, who she learned was named Myrtle, decided to come and pester Moira as she often had, Moira was able to plan ahead and think of comebacks to Myrtles petty comments. They often held vulgar language, but Moira no longer cared about her family's opinion of her. She honestly could not give a rat's ass about being a proper young lady.
Moira also began to easily see the futures of other people. One day she whimsically told Silas, "She is waiting for you." He looked at her confused, "Who is?" he had over the years acquired many lady-friends and affairs. "A red-haired young woman by the name of Miranda. She has a surprise for you. Important news." Silas suddenly looked very scared. When she asked why, he wouldn't tell her. The next night he disappeared. A note was left saying he would return soon.
"Something's got him in a fright," Fox commented, "I could physically smell the fear in him when you told him that. I hope everything in okay." Moira hated that her gift had caused him pain and fear. Everyone was scared of her and her brother. Even the people closest to her she thought as she played with the necklace that had been her mother's. Even amongst witches and vampires they were still the freaks and outcasts. At least we will always have each other, Moira smiled as she watched Fox practice fencing by himself.
Two figures stood facing each other with blood soaked hands. A circle of flames blocked out other's from interfering. One with the murderous red eyes of a vampire, the other with blonde hair with glowed like a halo as lightning exploded around them and a storm raged. The vampire was missing the part of his left arm halfway below the elbow. In its place was a silver hooked stained with blood. She watched as the two of the fought. The vampire's hook catching the other's shoulder, ripping through the flesh of his back. Another slash through his right thigh as blood fueled the fire. He was about to deliver a third, fatal slash to the other's throat as the silver blade fell to the rain soaked grass. Moira forced herself out of the vision. She couldn't watch. It wasn't enough, it wasn't going to be enough. Fox had no chance against a pure vampire.
When Silas finally returned, he looked like he was in shambles. Dark circles under his eyes and more silver in his beard and hair. He had aged ten years in one week. He barely spoke even when the two children pestered him, asking to share what he had seen during his last trip. He only shook his head, exhausted. "I smell three more people on him," Fox had told her, "A human and two witches." The mystery was left unsolved.
"We need to run, before Henri March finds us," Moira ordered Silas. Every night she dreamed of the man with the blood stained hook. The witched needed to run before it was too late and they were found. This was solidified when she received a letter.
Dear Little Lamb,
Fee. Fi. Fo. Fum. I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he alive, of be he dead. I'll grind his bones to make my bread. Your father smells delicious. He screams, begging for his life. Not for the sake of his wife and babe though. How sad? I would scream and beg too. For my child. Bring him to me or I enjoy feasting on your father dearest.
Happily Ever After,
The Captain with a Hook.
And in that letter, was her father's wedding ring. Even though he had forsaken her and her mother, he was still her father. She had to save him. He couldn't die because of them. She needed to stop him from discovering the Witches here in Ireland. But Fox could die because of this. She brought the letter to Silas. "Well I guess it is high time you two were tested," he smiled, "Pack your bags were are going to Loxwood."