Chapter 20: The Many Disguises We Wear
"Oh the bravest fell, and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Easter tide in the springtime of the year
And the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few,
Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew..."
Lyrics the Foggy Dew by Charles O'Neill
Kildare, Ireland 1916
The black wool nun's habit hung loose like a sack on the slender fox. "Ach, that will never work!" Fergus fussed, shaking his head as he looked up at Nick. "Alas, it is much too large for you, fox."
There was a fluttering of tiny wings before Gnat landed on a nearby lamp. "Why don't you...ah...just fix it so that it fits?" the sprite asked.
"I'm a leipreachān!" Fergus scoffed. "Why do you think I can hem a dress?"
"You repair shoes."
"Yes, I am a cobbler and not a tailor."
"Shoes...dresses...they are all human things, what's the difference?"
The small, pointy-eared, human-looking creature in a red coat shook his head and sighed, "This won't work at all!"
"Maybe you could make me some shoes with really high heels?" Nick suggested.
"Have you ever worn shoes before?" the leipreachān asked.
"No."
"You would fall and break yer daft crown."
After pacing the floor for a few moments, Fergus climbed up onto a nearby dresser and began to dig around in a wooden box. After a few moments, he called out in triumph while holding up a peculiar-looking green gemstone. "This is Midir's first wife, the witch Fumn's, glamour stone. We can use it to cast a spell on magical creatures."
"So how is that supposed to help me?" Nick asked.
"You're too short, so I will have to ride upon yer shoulder to give the correct height and use the stone's illusionary magic to hide my face from any onlookers," Fergus replied.
"Why don't you just cast the spell on the fox?" Gnat asked as the sprite fluttered over for a closer look at the stone.
"It won't work on him; he is mortal," the leipreachān answered. "Now get on your knees, fox, and I'll climb up onto yer shoulders."
"How will I see where I'm going if I'm covered by the dress?"
"I'll guide you."
"Guide me?"
"Sure."
"What possibly could go wrong?" Nick scoffed.
It took them well over an hour before Nick and Fergus finally got dressed in the habit, and the leprechaun cast a successful spell that made him look like a stern old woman. His first attempt resulted in a strange half-fox and human mixture, which caused the pixie to fall onto a nearby table in a fit of giggles. When they tried to walk down the stairs, the fox slipped and almost tumbled. Once they reached the doorway, Nick mustered enough courage to step out into the sunlight. All around them, the town had come to life, bustling with mortals going about their daily lives.
"Turn left!" Fergus hissed to Nick as they attempted to cross the street toward the church's cemetery.
"Did you say to turn left?" Nick whispered.
"Right!" the leipreachān confirmed, but when the confused fox began to turn right, he snapped, "I said turn left...left is the other direction!"
"No, you said to go to the right!"
"I did not!"
Fluttering overhead, Gnat groaned while the supposed nun stagger around as if she were drunk. The pixie wasn't the only one to see the nun's odd movements, and a concerned woman called out, asking if the "good sister" needed help. "Run!" Fergus yelled to Nick.
The fox staggered forward and began to blindly run. He almost ran into a tree before finally entering the cemetery. "Sister!" a voice called out again, this time much closer.
"Run left!" Fergus yelled.
Unknown to either the leprechaun or fox, their human pursuer had skidded to a halt in confusion when she saw an orangish-red tail peeking from under the nun's habit. "Saints preserve us!" she cried out in shock, drawing the attention of others on the street. Crossing herself, the woman cried out, "A demon is among us!" A small crowd had gathered around her, and they all watched as the strange nun weaved back and forth through the cemetery and then plunged face-first down into the stone ruins that the locals called Brigid's Fire Temple. Cautiously, they approached the ruins only to find the discarded habit lying in a heap upon the dirt at the bottom of the ancient pagan temple.
Leaning against the now-closed entrance to the mystical passageway, Nick panted in fear and pain. He reached down and gripped his right calf, feeling the blood seeping from where he had gashed himself on a sharp stone. "That looks bad," Fergus muttered.
"We need to stop the bleeding," the fox said as he tore a strip of cloth from his shirt. "I need you to tie a tourniquet."
The leipreachān stepped back and raised his small hands while shaking his head. "I've never done anything like that, you're a mortal!"
Gnat had barely made it inside before the mystical door closed. The pixie frantically looked at her companions and knew she had to do something. With a flutter of wings, she raced down the rock-lined tunnel toward a distant light.
Nick struggled to tie the cloth above his bleeding wound. "By the gods, help me!" he pleaded to Fergus, who stood frozen with panic. "Great Kitsune, please don't let me die in this godforsaken place!" the fox desperately prayed to a god he believed would not listen.
London, 1916
"The gods are fools!" the back wolf scoffed as he faced the slightly smaller undying mortal in front of him.
"Fools or not, they exist and your being here is proof of that," the human who called himself the Count Saint-Germain answered. Turning to the vixen, whom the wolf was seemingly protecting, he added, "And the fact that you are here I am sure is no mistake. That evil power I felt is far older than your wolf and his Norse gods. Now, I am fairly sure the source of that power is in Ireland, and so it is my intention...no, I seem compelled to travel to Ireland and seek out whatever or whomever wields such evil."
"You did say that this is 1916?" Jude asked.
"It is."
"Then Europe should be in the midst of a terrible war, and London should be under an aerial blitz...wait...that might be the other war?" Jude pondered as the vixen pushed herself past Fenrisúlfr. She couldn't help but put a reassuring paw on the wolf god's arm when he made a growling noise, a warning, at the human.
"Yes, the Germans have been bombing some places in England using their zeppelins. A few weeks ago, they blew up parts of Hull again," the Count replied. He smiled at her and added, "So, I take it that this is not the war to end all wars, like the press is claiming?"
"Mortals and the gods always seem to find something to fight over," Jude answered.
"I take it that applies to evolved animals, too?" The Count chuckled when Fenrisúlfr growled. "Anyway, these night attacks have made travel somewhat difficult, but I called in a favor from someone I know to secure a train and ship for me. Of course, at the time, I had no idea that you two would show up, but your company would be welcomed."
"Who do you know who could make such arrangements?" the vixen asked.
"Victoria's grandson owes me for saving his father from a rather embarrassing situation when he was a prince."
"Who is Victoria?" Fenrisúlfr asked.
The Count answered the wolf's question with only a smile.
"It doesn't matter," Jude said. "It seems we're going to have to go to Ireland."
"I don't like this!" the wolf god growled.
The Count suddenly reached over and placed his hand on the vixen's arm, tightening his grip as he leaned closer to her. "You know the past, present, and future!" he stated.
"I am Aeon, the goddess of time," Jude replied, pulling free of his grasp.
"Then tell me, when will my curse be lifted? When is the Nazarene going to return to claim His kingdom?" the mortal pleaded.
"I…I…," she began to answer his question. Then, dropping her head, she sighed. "There is much that is hidden from me, places even I am not allowed to visit. The truth is that the future is always in flux, and only a few things are set…inevitable or fixed points in time around which everything else swirls."
"Surely that has to be a fixed point! Tell me what you know!" his tone was even more desperately demanding. "You must tell me when!"
"I don't just don't know when or even if it will come to pass."
"So much power and yet you are so useless!" The Count huffed, his arm had been seized by the wolf, who angrily showed his fangs as he growled.
"Leave her alone!" Fenrisúlfr finally said.
"You can't kill me, Lokison," the Count softly chuckled. "Others have tried and failed."
Grasping the strange mortal by the lapels of his smoking jacket, he lifted the Count from the ground and shook him. "I might fail to kill you, but who knows? I might enjoy trying."
"Fenny, NO!" Jude cried out.
"Yes, you might, but you will fail," the Count scoffed. "Now I must get dressed, and you two have to change. You can't go strolling the streets looking the way you currently appear."
Japan 2018
Far from London and the year of 1916, a human-looking goddess was sitting in her home deep in meditation. Although Kitsune was the god of foxes, no fox would usually pray to her, or if in the god's male guise, him, unless it was absolutely necessary. Everyone knew that the godling would never intervene but expected his or her vulpine followers to use their own wits and cunning. Kitsune never asked anything from the mortals in the way of offerings and worship but took what he or she wanted by guile or deceit.
"Concentrate," her husband called out when she peeked out of the room where she sat in a lotus position and not at the red laser dot he had projected onto the wall. "You have the attention span of a five-year-old."
"Shut up!" she sighed before she turned and stared once again at the red dot.
"Come on, you told me that you remember Nick had prayed to you before."
"That was before his and Judy's son almost destroyed everything."
"You'd think I would remember the void consuming everything."
"The Creator chose that only we gods can remember when reality was...ah, rebooted. A traumatic reminder of who is really in charge and that, although many of us gods have great powers we are still not all-powerful."
"Still, you remember his prayers from before."
"Well, it was a fox praying for his rabbit lover and that doesn't happen too often."
"Just concentrate, dear, and try to remember."
Hours later she cocked her head in a vulpine manner. Her body began to transform, changing from the shape of a slender mortal into a white-furred fox. The vixen shook off the clothing she wore and swished her tail, which at every wag changed until finally there were nine fluffy tails. "Judy," she called over to the rabbit. "I suddenly remembered another time when Nick prayed to me a long time ago. For some reason...well, I don't recall him doing that before," the fox gave he husband a look of bewilderment before she added. "It is almost as if the past is changing."
"Was he okay?" the rabbit asked in concern.
"He was injured."
"Take me to him!"
"I...it's...complicated," Kitsune answered in a concerned tone.
"Why?"
"He is not in this timeline or reality, I can move from one reality to another but not backward in time."
"Then who can? Surely you know some god who can!" Judy pleaded.
"We both know who can, it's your granddaughter."
"So we are back to trying to talk with Death since she knows how to reach Aion," Kinsune's mortal husband interjected.
Of course, the Blitz Judith refers to took place from September 1940 to May 1941 when masses of German bombers attacked key military and civilian targets in Great Britain. The Germans both accidentally and purposely bombed neutral Ireland several times. After the war, Leo Sheridan discovered documents indicating that one of the bombings was not an accident but a plan to intimidate the Irish government for allowing their fire departments to cross the border into British Northern Ireland to fight fires that were the result of German aerial attacks.
Victoria's grandson was George V. His father, Edward VII, was involved in many scandals when he was Prince of Wales. He was nicknamed "Dirty Bertie" and had a reputation for gambling and debauchery. His "activities" during a trip to Ireland became so outrageous that his father, Prince Albert, went over to chew him out. Their argument took place outdoors in the cold rain and this may have led to Albert's, who was already ill, demise a few weeks later. Bertie's mother, Queen Victoria, never forgave him for her beloved husband's death.