Winds in Time
By Cadillac Red
As a fire crackled in the over-sized fireplace of a homey kitchen in an Irish Great House, the family gathered there shared wine and food: raw for the vampires in attendance, cooked & savory for the warmbloods, be they witch, daemon or plain-vanilla human. Laughter and quiet conversations rose and fell while four small children ran hither and yon, two on plastic tricycles, the other two on sneakered feet.
"Halt, men!" Baldwin de Clermont barked as he caught an arm of each of his twin sons as they tried to dart by. He squatted to be eye level with the two children who were not only identical, they were basically miniature versions of himself. "Take it into the family room, boys. You can put on the TV and watch "Frozen" again-"
"Yay!" both the five-year-olds yelled as they freed themselves from his light grip and ran off, followed by Matthew and Diana's three year-old twins. Philip and Becca were also cheering the concession as they pedaled as fast as their legs would go.
"-for the four hundredth time," Baldwin finished. The other adults laughed good-naturedly.
"The first one of the boys to meet a girl named Elsa, I don't want to think what happens," Diana said.
"Or your daughter," Fernando said, giving Sarah and Agatha a wink.
"Of course!" Diana laughed. "How narrow-minded of me, of all people!"
"I swear I hear that song in my sleep," Baldwin said wryly as he pulled a new bottle of red wine from a full-size wine cabinet on the other side of the room.
"You sleep now?" Marcus chuckled.
"When you live with warmbloods, the days take on a different rhythm," Matthew said, giving his brother a knowing glance.
Baldwin quickly uncorked the bottle and poured more red wine into Matthew's glass. His brother eyed the bottle, and was gratified to see it was more of one of his favorites, not Baldwin's preferred clarets. The brothers' relationship had warmed and grown over the time since two witches that now held their hearts had entered their lives. Irritating each other purely for sport was no longer a pastime they enjoyed.
Most of the family were sitting at one of the large kitchen islands, with Sarah, Agnes and Ysabeau at the butcher-block table nearby. Each of them held a baby, Matthew and Diana's infant second daughter with Sarah, Gallowglass and Ciara's sleeping 9-month old son with Agnes, and Ysabeau held Baldwin and Caitlin's nearly one-year old third son on her lap. He was contentedly chewing on a teething ring that she had just removed from the freezer a few minutes earlier.
"It will be time for Declan to go down soon," Caitlin said as she placed a plate of raw oysters on the marble counter.
"Just another moment or two," Ysabeau pleaded gently. All three of the older women treasured every second with the new lives with which the family had been blessed in recent years. For Ysabeau, it was a millennia old dream to have babies in the family.
Suddenly Caitlin gasped, holding out her right hand. "What the—" she blurted as her hand seemed to flicker in and out of focus. In less than a human heartbeat, Baldwin had dropped the bottle of wine in his hand. As it broke and splattered on the tile floor, he had already moved with vampire speed to Caitlin's side. He laid one hand on her shoulder and then both of them immediately blinked out of the room.
Pandemonium followed, as all the adults jumped to their feet and raced to the place where the two had been just a moment before.
"What just happened?" Gallowglass said, voicing all their thoughts.
"It was definitely magic," his wife Ciara said.
"Yes, the smell of power is overwhelming," Matthew added. "Diana? Do you have any idea? Àine? Ciara?"
Two of the witches shook their heads and looked worried. But the youngest, Àine had her eyes closed, summoning her aunt and grandmother from nearby Castle O'Connelly, the seat of their hereditary witch family for centuries. The two older witches blinked into the kitchen and were quickly apprised of the strange occurrence.
"A summoning spell?" Nora asked her mother. "What else could it be?"
"Terribly rude of someone to summon another witch without notice or invitation," Brigid tsked. "Not to mention few we know have the power to do that. And almost all of us are here."
"Well, someone else does," Matthew said. "And it is unlikely an invitation to tea."
"What can we do to get them back?" Ciara asked urgently. Her mother and grandmother looked at each other. And simply shook their heads.
A room in London
"—the hell is happening…." Caitlin finished her thought. Her hand was now fully corporeal as she looked around a strange room, one she had never seen before.
"Good question," Baldwin said. He quickly surveyed the space and realized they were not anywhere near the house in Kerry. Or anywhere near their time in history. And they were among strangers.
"Who are you?" an older woman rasped. "You are not Maeve O'Connelaigh." Three other women behind her murmured among themselves.
"How strangely you are dressed," the youngest one said to them.
"I should say the same to you, Mistress," Baldwin clapped back. "Or should I say witch? Why did you bring us here?"
"You are a vampire!" the older woman exclaimed. She held up her hand to the others chattering worriedly behind her. "We assuredly did not summon you, sir."
"You tried to take my wife," Baldwin said angrily.
"Wife? But she is a witch!" one of the other women exclaimed.
"Silence!" the older woman cautioned the others. She turned back to Caitlin. "I am Goody Alsop. You are not Maeve, but you have the look of her. You hair and eyes are much the same. And you wear her amulet."
Caitlin felt for the ornament she wore on a gold chain around her neck. It was a family heirloom, an almost translucent green stone with the image of the Celtic Goddesses suspended in it. She had put it on today simply because it went well with the forest green sweater she wore over tan leggings. No wonder these women thought she dressed oddly, compared with their drab grey, brown and black dresses that went to the floor.
"Y-yes," she said. "Maeve O'Connellaigh—"
"Is her kinswoman," Baldwin inserted himself into the discussion, giving her a side eye that told her not to share more.
A handsome gentlemen finely-dressed for the period paused briefly in the doorway, and then stepped into the room. "Ah, Sigeric Hilliard," his voice boomed. "Well met! It has been an age since we were last together."
Baldwin and Caitlin gaped but the man continued into the room and gave them a formal bow.
"I am Philippe de Clermont," he said, bowing to them both. "In case you do not recall."
Baldwin was momentarily disarmed by the sight of his father, hale and hearty once more. But he ruthlessly shoved back the emotions that arose within him, and stepped closer to his sire. "Philippe! What the hell is going on?"
Philippe blinked twice, his mouth twisting in disapproval. Clearly the sixteenth century version of the de Clermont patriarch was accustomed to more deference from his son. But he knew they would need some space away from the prying eyes and ears of the witches so overlooked the impertinence.
"Goody Alsop, clearly you found the young madame in the midst of her toilette. Perhaps you can find her a room and a dress…."
"Yes, of course. My niece Lucy can help." She turned to youngest witch, barely out of her teens from the look of her. 'Please bring your good dress as you are of a size with… the lady."
A few minutes later in a private room
Philippe banged on the door twice, and then opened it without waiting for a response. Baldwin was buttoning the back of the dress Caitlin had been lent.
"Well, that is…. certainly more modest," Philippe opined.
"And not the least bit flattering," Caitlin murmured as she looked at herself in the mirror.
"No," Philippe agreed. "But little could diminish your beauty, madame." He took her hand and kissed the back of it. He glanced at his son, "Elle est ravissante."
"Enough," Baldwin said, taking her hand into his own. "What in the name of all the gods is going on, Philippe?
His sire smiled at Caitlin and then seated himself in one of the chairs by a nearby table. He poured himself a glass of wine from a decanter on the table, and took a sip before responding. "There is a—situation at present. At my suggestion, the witches were summoning Maeve O'Connellaigh, a powerful witch whom we have all met before. From Ireland."
"She is my—" Caitlin began, until she caught another warning look from Baldwin. "My kinswoman, as B—Sigeric said."
"I know my son as Baldwin too, madame," Philippe said. "Although I don't know when he took a wife." He cast a disapproving look at Baldwin. "Without my blessing. And a witch is a rather unexpected turn. Nor do I understand what he was doing in Ireland, if that is indeed where you came from."
"None of that is relevant, at present," Baldwin said shortly. "My question remains. Why were we summoned here to England? And what year is this anyway?"
Philippe's eyes widened and he looked at Caitlin. "So you are a time-spinner, Madame?"
"Answer the question, Philippe," Baldwin growled.
"It is the year of our Lord, 1588."
Caitlin sat down quickly to avoid passing out. "What?" she said, shaking her head. "How….? Why?" She half-laughed. "I was holding out hope we landed in the middle of a production of Shakespeare."
Baldwin could hear her blood racing through her veins, and sensed the fear she was attempting to hold at bay. He seated himself on the settee next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. "Don't fret, m'anam. We will get out of here and home. Quickly," he added, casting a hard glance at Philippe.
"I don't time-walk much, Baldwin," she said. "I—I mostly have taken Rory to classic concerts in the fifties and sixties—" Her brother Rory was a famous rock star of their time. He was the closest in age to Caitlin. The fact Rory and her architect brother Finn were daemons likely also helped. "And I took Finn to see the building of the Brooklyn Bridge for his birthday once. And the Eiffel Tower…." She could hear herself babbling but she didn't seem able to stop.
"Say no more," he whispered in her ear but Philippe's vampire hearing was every bit as good as his own.
"From what year have you come?"
"Let's just say a future time and leave it at that, Philippe," his son responded. "There is danger in knowing too much of what is to come."
Philippe nodded stiffly, reluctantly acknowledging that fact.
"Then at least share the name of your lady-wife," Philippe said. "I sense she is as powerful as witch as her kinswoman."
Baldwin exhaled resignedly, and rose to his feet. He held out his hand to Caitlin and helped her up before addressing his sire.
"Caitlin O'Connelaigh de Clermont, may I introduce my father, Philippe de Clermont."
He had switched to the old language of Occitan to be sure that if anyone was listening, they would not understand. The modern English he and Caitlin spoke would sound strange to the locals but they would be able to take their meaning most of the time.
"Encantat," Philippe told her and she executed a passable curtsy, born of watching many movies based on Jane Austen books.
Baldwin held back a surprised smile and instead returned his attention to Philippe. "What reason could you possibly have to summon Maeve to England? As though she were a member of your family to be ordered about at your will?"
Philippe was taken aback. "You are much changed, my son," he said quietly.
"Not so much. Just more…. Forthcoming, I suspect."
"Please, let's not waste time," Caitlin broke in, also speaking in Occitan and Philippe started. He stared at her.
"You speak the old language, madame?"
"One of my… governesses was from the Languedoc. She taught me.."
"We can converse in Greek then," Philippe said to his son in that language, and Baldwin laughed.
"Not if you don't want her to understand," he said. "My wife is a prodigious linguist. Almost like a vampire."
"It is simply a capability I inherited," Caitlin said.
Philippe decided to try again. "Latin?"
Now it was Caitlin's turn to laugh. "Well, I have not spent much time studying dead languages. Because they are… well, dead. But I understand a great deal."
Baldwin had grown impatient. "Enough idle talk!" he growled. "What is the reason for summoning her, Philippe? Or if you prefer to keep your secrets—as always- simply return us from whence we came."
"I cannot do that," his father said. "The witches may be able to, since they brought you here. But time-walking was not part of the plan so that may pose an additional… challenge. Her 'kinswoman' could simply have sailed home….."
Baldwin turned to Caitlin. "Can you take us home then, m'anam?"
"I—perhaps. I think so. But first I want to know why Maeve was sought. It may be that I can help with something….."
"Nothing here is our concern, Cait—"
"Unless something that will change the future for my family is going to happen. Or your family. We should know for certain before we try to return."
Baldwin did not like the phrase 'try to return,' but he nodded curtly. "You are right, m'anam," he said. "But truly, what might that be?" Then he thought again about the year in which they found themselves and groaned. "Oh, blast the gods, I think I know what it is."
"Well, please feel free to share, my love. Unlike—" she glanced at Philippe warily. "Unlike some others we know, history is not my strong suit."
With a little help from Philippe, Baldwin succinctly explained what was significant about the year and place to which they had been brought.
Caitlin stared at the two men. "You can't be serious," she whispered, swallowing hard. "Witches are going to try to turn back the Spanish Armada? With wind?"
"It is an old legend," Baldwin said. "Like many legends, it has some basis in truth. I heard there was some witch involvement but London was Matthew's purview in those days and I never asked if it was true. I—did not care much about witches then."
"Matthew's antipathy to witches was always far greater than yours. One reason I sent him south with the Queen and came to deal with this myself. She went to Tillbury to address her troops. And will spend a few days returning, to bask in the adulation of her many courtiers with estates on the route. The Crown will accept tribute from all of them."
"Of course. And will you contribute?"
"Not as such. The distrust of everyone French or with a French name or accent is quite high at the moment. She is more willing to listen to Matthew Clairmont than Philippe de Clermont."
Caitlin looked at Baldwin. "And that's why you are suddenly 'Sigeric Hilliard?'
"A name I occasionally used when in England. Sigeric is my second name and Hillard merely something I used to seem more English. My accent will change depending on where in the isles I am – Wales, Scotland, England. I can seem native to all of them when necessary."
"Ah, I guess that explains the slight Yorkshire accent."
"It seemed the cautious thing to do. And you have started to sound more Irish but your syntax and vocabulary is decidedly modern. So be sure not to converse with anyone outside this house or the coterie of witches. No need to stir up suspicion any more than we already have."
"In a short while, I'll be able to mimic their speech, Baldwin."
"I sincerely hope we are not here even that long."
August 7, 1588
The next day passed with Caitlin and the other witches working on the spell they would cast the following day. The Scottish weaver Agnes Sampson had arrived and like Goody Alsop, she was a powerful air witch. She was at first suspicious of Maeve's absence, and Caitlin's presence was, but quickly realized Caitlin was also a weaver. And her spell-casting was every bit as powerful as her own and that of Goody Alsop. The three witches worked companionably thereafter.
Baldwin returned from his daily reconnaissance tour of London with news that Matthew was expected back in the City in two days time. "We must be gone by then, m'anam. We cannot afford to run into the Matthew of this time. It's bad enough Philippe has seen us here. I'm not sure how that will affect things…"
"I'm working on a spell to return us to our time. And of course the wind spell we will use tomorrow."
"Good. I cannot tell you how badly I want to be away from here. I know Matthew and Diana said they enjoyed their time in the past but I have already lived this. I don't want to go through any of it again. My present – the one with you and our sons – is the only life I want to live now." He snapped his gloves against his leather pantaloons and stalked off. She had noticed he spent a lot of time riding about the city, and guessed it was because the clothing was more familiar than the colorful, ostentatious wear she saw on men outside the windows of the house. Her husband was many things but a flashy dresser was not among them. She sighed and went back to working on the three spells she needed to perfect.
Later that evening
Philippe sipped his wine and watched as Caitlin ate the soup and brown bread Goody Alsop had provided for her supper. Baldwin had a full glass of wine but had not touched it yet.
"How do you come to be working with witches, Philippe?" Baldwin asked. In his memory, he could not recall such a thing outside the Congregation that wielded power over all creatures. Vampires, witches and daemons served on that body, although all knew the vampires held the most sway simply by their strength of their longevity. And the de Clermonts held the most power among the vampires. It had been true in his time also, until very recently.
"I met Goody Alsop through… another vampire in the City some time ago when I was helping an old friend with some trouble," Philippe said. "I proposed the idea of the witches assisting in the upcoming battle—"
"I should have known," Baldwin said, grimacing.
"It is vital that England is not invaded by Spain, my son. I cannot share more but I know it to be true."
Baldwin already knew his father's contact with the Tempus Conduci, or Time Guardians, went back to the first century, and he suspected that was behind his certainty that the Spanish must not be allowed to prevail in the imminent battle. His own knowledge, based on centuries of living beyond that moment, told him it was indeed vital that England withstand invasion though.
He also guessed the "other vampire" of which Philippe spoke was most likely Andrew Hubbard who had turned out to be a grandson of Matthew's. The Matthew of this time did not know that, and would not know for more than four hundred years.
The convoluted relationships Philippe had maintained but that remained unknown among his family over many centuries gave Baldwin a headache when he thought of it. In his present time, it fell to him to keep secrets from the family when needed to advance de Clermont causes and it was an aspect of his role as head of the family he disliked the most. Or at least he had begun to dislike it in recent years even though knowing more than he let on was a strategy he had employed for many centuries.
At this moment he had a strong suspicion now about the "friend" Philippe had asked Hubbard to help with. Of all of his sons, Baldwin's highly strategic mind more often gave him greater insight into his father's machinations. And even he struggled to understand the reason for his sire's many inexplicable choices over the two thousand years since Philippe had made him a vampire. In almost every instance, he simply complied, the ever loyal soldier, and obedient son, always confident that Philippe knew best. Until recently it had not seemed possible to him that he could do anything else.
Present day Ireland
The Great House formal dining room
Four witches stood in position around a map of the world. Sarah, the strongest earth witch at one corner, Ciara, the most powerful air witch at another. Nora, a formidable fire witch stood at a third corner while Àine, whose had strong water in her make-up held the fourth corner. Brigid, the most powerful of all the witches present, spoke. To the vampires and others she instructed, "Please stand back and do not attempt to intervene no matter what happens. We must let the magic unravel this mystery."
Brigid closed her eyes and began to circle the witches clockwise. The map between them began to glow slightly and the others in the room looked at one another in surprise but no one spoke or moved. Brigid returned to her place and raised both her hands, palms up. She began to speak quietly.
"As I will, so mote it be. We beseech the goddess to solve this mystery. Family lost, soon to be found. Where are Caitlin and Baldwin on this ground?"
A small whirlwind appeared and traveled over the map, from one end to the other, then back to the first place it appeared. Then it died, without leaving a clue as to the whereabouts of their loved ones.
"Huh," Nora said. "I have never known this to fail." She looked at her mother. "Unless…."
"Unless those we seek are no longer in this world," Brigid said. Several people in the room gasped. "Or- no longer in this time."
Matthew spoke now. "Caitlin's time-walking gene is stronger than any of yours. Is it possible for a witch with that ability to be summoned from the past? Or the future?"
Nora nodded slightly. "I have never heard of it happening but—it is certainly within the realm of possibility. But who would do such a thing? And why? And…. When?"
Ciara started suddenly. "The necklace! Caitie was wearing it!"
"What necklace?" her grandmother demanded.
"The one she inherited as the oldest daughter of our generation. Maeve's necklace! She almost never wears it but tonight, she did."
"Does that tell you anything about when, Gramma?" Àine asked.
"It may give us an era but… not a specific date, unfortunately."
"Maeve was born in 1562," Ciara said. She was the family historian as well as a well-known researcher of Celtic and Norse history. "And died in 1667, if the records are correct. She met her husband in London in 1583."
"So IF they were summoned by Maeve, we have about a hundred years of possible options," Diana said. "Talk about a needle in a haystack."
"And we don't know that it was Maeve. Or even that the timeframe assumption is correct," Matthew added, shaking his head. The scientist in him told him they had not a shred of real data to go on.
"What can we do now?" Àine asked, her voice breaking. Jack was standing next to her and he quickly put an arm around her as she turned into his shoulder and sobbed quietly.
"There isn't much we can do," Brigid said quietly. "Except wait for them to return."
"Baldwin is a strong and capable vampire," Ysabeau said. "I would venture to say he is perhaps the best of us in the face of the unknown and unexpected."
"And Caitlin is the strongest witch among our family," Nora said. "Between them, I trust they can handle just about anything, magic or otherwise. And right now, that is the only thing we can do."
London, August 7, 1588
"Drake has started to push the Spanish back," Philippe said. "A very impressive showing for a small kingdom. But the Spanish are reorganizing to press them further. And their fleet is much larger than England's force."
Caitlin listened and found herself shaking her head. She did not think of England as small, although in fact it was in territory and population. She reckoned its influence and place in the history books she knew was outsized.
"The witches are still trying to summon Maeve," she said. "But it's not working."
"As a strong air witch, she is important to what they want to attempt," Philippe responded. "Do you have much air in your magic, Caitlin?"
Baldwin held back a smile, as he waited for his wife to speak.
"Yes. I have a lot of Air and Water." She felt it better not to mention she was also a Fire witch. Baldwin had acquainted her with the history of the Armada's destruction and despite some of the witches wishing to rain hellfire on them, they did not want to deviate from the history they knew.
"We will begin casting the spell when the clock strikes midnight, even if they cannot bring Maeve to the gathering."
Philippe nodded and bid them farewell for the moment. He spent little time in London and so had many vampires to see. The City was the territory of one called Father Hubbard and while he and Hubbard had reached a truce some time before, allowing the vampire jurisdiction over the creatures in the city, he did not want the priest to forget just who the head of the de Clermont family was in his own life.
Once Philippe was gone, and a safe distance stretched between them, Baldwin poured a glass of wine for Caitlin and took up his own glass. Then he took a seat beside her and spoke quietly. "I've been wondering, why do you think they could summon you, and not Maeve? I know you said the necklace was one reason but wouldn't Maeve also have had the necklace in this time? Surely it would be easier to bring her from Ireland than you from centuries in the future?"
"I've been thinking about that. And I think I know why. It was Maeve who first cast the cloaking spell, as you may remember."
"Because her vampire husband warned her about the Congregation's interest in enforcing the Covenant."
"Plus the family's witches were weavers, another strike against the O'Connelaighs of the time."
"You think the cloaking spell kept them from finding her? Or transporting her?"
"I think it's a strong possibility. Not only was I wearing the amulet, but I was home and among family so I was uncloaked. But Maeve may have had to stay cloaked almost all of the time to avoid discovery."
Baldwin nodded. "That makes sense. Christ, I cannot wait to get out of here though. It feels more dangerous than I remember—"
"You did not have a witch to protect in the past," Caitlin said, leaning in and kissing his cheek. "I think you are more worried about me than about yourself."
The look on his face told her she was correct. "I've been wondering something," she said slowly. "Shouldn't the Tempus Conduci be here? They are supposedly charged with keeping time on track but where are they when a major historical event is in danger of going the wrong way?"
He exhaled forcefully. "I've been wondering the same thing, m'anam. How did this fall to you, the least… historically knowledgeable among all of the witches and vampires? Aside from those Jane Austen movies, I have not seen you spend much time on anything histori…"
The hurt look on her face stopped him immediately. "Oh, I did not mean it that way! I just meant—"
"You just meant I know little but the most basic history and who would put the fate of time in my hands?"
"No! Not at all! You are the most—most caring and intelligent woman I know, Caitlin. I would put the fate of everything I hold dear in your hands every day of my life. And I do-" He stopped as he watched a grin break out of her face.
"I was just kidding, Baldwin. I have had exactly that thought since I realized where we were. And why. I mean, I almost never even get the history questions on Jeopardy, right?"
"Well the fact you live among professional historians and ancient vampires may explain why you never get a chance to answer any of them," he laughed, relieved. He would one day get used to the way she teased him but for now, he'd just thank the gods there was one person in his life who had that level of comfort and intimacy with him. It was a refreshing change he did not realize he would enjoy so much in all the centuries he had been alone, even among his family.
"Well, for what it's worth, I believe someone from the Tempus Conduci has been working through Philippe. His certainty about what has to happen here is too hard to explain otherwise."
"Well, then I wish they would show themselves. I mean, we know so many of them, why would they stay out of sight?"
"I have not been able to puzzle that out. And I hesitate to tell Philippe I know about them. It's another piece of future knowledge that could change things."
"I hadn't thought of that. Another thing to worry about, doing something that could change everything still to come."
"We've been careful, m'anam. I don't think we've done anything to upset the balance of things in the future." Yet, he thought to himself. And pushed the worry aside for the moment.
Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless. It was the one thing he knew to do to ease her worries over what was to happen in the coming hours.
August 8, 1588
The witches had gathered at midnight on a hill overlooking the Thames in the park of a private home owned by a friend of the London coven. They had come in ones and twos to avoid notice by the watch or any nosey neighbors, and Caitlin had accompanied Goody Alsop and Agnes Sampson. The older witches were slightly upended by the presence of Baldwin but after Caitlin assured them he would protect if needed but not interfere, they accepted his presence. At the very least, both witches knew there was no chance the vampire would let his wife go alone. And Caitlin was very much needed for this work.
After setting the chalk circle in place and placing the candles at the cardinal points, the other witches went to stand within the border of the circle. Goody and Agnes stepped into the center where a small altar had been placed.. They waved Caitlin to join them and she did. Given her unexpectedly mature spell-casting abilities, she had been asked to give voice to the words they had crafted.
Caitlin turned to the north and began to speak. "As we will, so mote it be. We ask the Mother for her mercy. We call the wind to bring its might and spare this land from harm tonight. Push all invaders far away. End this invasion by light of day."
The other witches repeated her words three times and with each repetition the wind grew stronger. But the whirlwind was not enough to do the job, and not in the right place, Caitlin realized. She closed her eyes and summoned all of her air magic and envisioned the wind pushing the Spanish ships. Baldwin had told her the critical factor in England's victory was that the wind had blown the Spanish ships to the north in the Channel, where Drake's fleet waited and where cannons on the shore would be able to reach them. She directed the wind in that direction with every fiber of her magical abilities.
Baldwin stared as he watched Caitlin literally glow with power and he hoped the other witches staring at the sky or chanting the spell with their eyes closed did not also see it. Suddenly Philippe appeared beside him and whispered almost reverently, "She is magnificent, my son."
Baldwin nodded and realized something he had not earlier. "This is your property, Philippe?"
His sire did not answer but the truth was obvious. Baldwin feared the sight that had his father gaping in awe, of Caitlin using all of her power, would change something going into the future but he could not think how to change it now.
The chanting began to quiet and finally the witches went silent. "It is done," Agnes Sampson said.
"We have succeeded in our task," Goody Alsop echoed.
"God blew, and they were scattered," Philippe said, a phrase that would make its way into the common usage and onto special coins minted to mark this great event. "Well done, mistresses. You have done England a great service tonight."
"And yet the crown will credit their God and Queen. And target and likely execute some of these women," Baldwin said quietly, shaking his head.
"I do not know when that will change, my son. Perhaps in your time creatures and humans have reached that paradise when all can simply be who and what they are."
"Not quite yet," Baldwin murmured.
As the witches removed their circle and prepared to return whence they had come, he saw Caitlin speaking with Goody Alsop and Agnes Sampson. He knew she would be bidding them farewell as their plan was to move to a private place and let Caitlin try to cast the spell he prayed would take them home.
Finally, she approached him and Philippe. "I am glad you are here, Philippe. I – had wanted to bid you goodbye."
"Madame, I am sad for you to go. I would have dearly loved for you to meet my mate, Ysabeau. And come to my seat in Sept-Tours."
Caitlin smiled but said nothing.
"Philippe, we will use a quiet place here in your park so I also bid you farewell. We will… see each other again."
"A different you, though, I imagine. It has been… instructive to see you from a future time."
He and Baldwin said goodbye in the manner of the de Clermont men throughout time and then Caitlin and Baldwin walked toward the thickest woods. Caitlin stopped and turned toward the witches who were now making their way out the other side of the wood toward the main road and where Philippe was now speaking with Goody Alsop.
She took a deep breath and moved her hands in the air, pulling and knotting the invisible threads that made up the world, only visible to witches who were also weavers. Baldwin watched her curiously. This was not where they planned to time-walk.
"Okay," she said finally. "They will all remember this night but will recall Maeve O'Connellaigh in their midst instead of me."
"Philippe as well?"
"Yes. I thought it… prudent for him to forget we met at this time, in this way."
Baldwin grinned at her. "You are a wonder, m'anam," he said, and kissed her lightly on the lips. "You continually surprise me."
"I may not know a lot of history, Baldwin," she said. "But I can put two and two together and know that if the result will be 1588, that's not a good thing."
They walked to a deeper part of the wood, where they could barely see the moon and stars now visible in the sky since the storm had passed. She sat on a rock and beckoned him to sit beside her. "Give me a moment to gather my strength. There was a lot of magic to do tonight."
"Of course, m'anam. I brought a little wine, and bread and cheese. I thought you might need some sustenance after everything…."
She sipped at the wine and nibbled on the food while leaning on his shoulder.
He gave voice to the concern on his mind. "Are you worried that you won't be able to get us back?"
She exhaled softly. "This is a much longer time-walk than I have ever done before. But…" she paused, thinking. "I believe we have a secret weapon that will assure we make it back."
"What's that?"
"Our three children, waiting for us at home. The strength of our desire to return to them will take us there. Magic is simply desire made real, you know."
They left the sack with the leftover food and drink on the rock and walked into the opening.
"Think about where we want to be, my love," she said. "Only that. Think about Brendan, and Caelin, and Declan. Hold my hand and don't let go. When I tell you, step forward into our kitchen with me."
A gentle breeze lifted their hair and circled around them and Caitlin imagined it was the goddess giving them her blessing to go home now her work here was done. "Now," she said, and simultaneously they moved forward. And appeared in their kitchen where the fire in the fireplace was banked and the lights were low indicating it was the middle of the night.
But in a house filled with vampires just the sound of two additional heartbeats was enough to alert them and within a minute Matthew, Marcus, Gallowglass, Jack and Ysabeau were in the room with them. Followed by Diana, Phoebe, and Ciara. Áine, Nora and Brigid appeared out of the air, summoned by Ciara. And all of them were talking at once.
"One at a time, please," Baldwin said, holding up his hand. "It has been a vexing few days for us."
"Why are you talking like that?" Phoebe asked. "And with that accent?"
"And you are dressed like you were appearing in a play," Áine said. "So you must have been—"
You were summoned to another time," Matthew stated. "When? And where?"
Caitlin had been embraced by every woman in her family and Diana and Phoebe. Even Ysabeau had stroked her cheek to show her relief they had returned safely.
"We will share all in the morning, I promise. But at this moment, we both need a shower. And to see our children even if they're asleep. And my wife is exhausted, having expended herself to produce hellishly more magic than usual." With that he ushered her out of the room and up the main stairs.
"Well, that's not saying much," Áine said. "All she usually does is produce a quick meal, or transport herself to Castle O'Connelly."
Jack looked at her thoughtfully. "I think this was… a lot more," he said, and Gallowglass slapped him on the back.
"You have a gift for understatement, Jackie," he said and he took his wife's hand and headed for the stairs as well.
The next morning over a breakfast of pancakes and good Irish bacon for the warmbloods, and blood for the vampires, they shared their story.
"You helped turn back the Spanish Armada?" Ciara said. "That's…. wow, that's huge!"
"I've seen you call a whirlwind and I remember that time you had the wind push that awful Harold's go-kart backwards—"
Caitlin glanced quickly at her mother and grandmother. "He was cheating," she said. "I couldn't just let that go."
Her mother laughed. "Of course you couldn't."
Caitlin laughed too. "I didn't realize his kart would actually end up going backwards though…."
"You have always underestimated your strength," her grandmother said.
"Not this time. I swear with all the witches there, it was Caitlin that actually made the difference. She was… glowing with power. Philippe was astounded."
"Philippe was there?" Matthew demanded.
"Yes. I was getting to that. It seems he was the one who planted the idea with the witches that they could help turn back the Spanish."
"Well, I guess none of us should be surprised," Marcus said. "He had a hand in most major things throughout history."
"And he sent me south to Tilbury with the Queen," Matthew mused. "I thought it was just to strengthen my relationship with Elizabeth. But it must have been to get me out of his way."
Baldwin snorted. "Not unlikely," he said. "I always thought his sudden directives to us to go here or there, to and fro, were in aid of some machination or other."
"Well, he always had "many balls in the air," as I believe the Americans would say," Ysabeau added. "I often had no idea to what end he was working at any given time."
"Well, I think I figured out one end he helped make happen," Baldwin said. "While we were there, Philippe said some things I have been contemplating." He turned to Ciara who was not only a well-known Celtic historian, but also the keeper of their family's historical information. "I think if you ask Andrew Hubbard, you'll find he married your ancestor Maeve to her vampire."
They all looked shocked at his statement.
"Finbar Martin?" Ciara asked.
"I think Philippe knew him by another name. And it would be of interest to know who he was before. He must have changed his name to something more Irish when he married Maeve and came here."
"Why wouldn't Father Hubbard tell us that?" Áine asked, looking at Jack.
"Father H keeps secrets as well as any vampire I ever met," Jack said. "And I knew Philippe for a few hundred years."
Everyone laughed and Gallowglass ruffled the back of Jack's head. "Jackie, boyo, that gift for understatement never fails you."
The End