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munchkinTitle: Twelve Nights (Pt 2)
Author: munchkinofdoom
Fandom: Primeval
Rating: R
Spoilers: Set in a mythical 2nd season where no-one died and Cutter and Stephen are getting on perfectly fine. *g*
Warnings: Ummm… I wasn't as fluffy this year. Thank goodness![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
telperion_15 gave me my head. *shifty look* So, supernatural themes, some low level horror, no maiming or death.
Word Count: 16,500
Characters: Stephen/Ryan, Cutter, Connor, Abby, Jenny, Blade, Ditzy, Kermit, Captain Jacobs, Anders, Rees.
Summary: The twelve days of Christmas was not always the sole province of the Christmas carol, and not always so innocent.
Disclaimer: Primeval and its characters are the property of Impossible Pictures. No money is being made from this fanfic.
Cover art bylsellersfic
Blade drove carefully up the long, winding, gravel driveway that led to Hollyhock Farm. He could see lights in the distance, through the light snowfall, and followed the driveway in that direction.
Lieutenant Rees wiped condensation from the inside of the windscreen and peered through the frosted glass. "Jacobs didn't give you any more information?"
"Nope. Sorry, mate, just some sort of screaming coming from outside," Blade answered.
"We'll be lucky to find anyone in this weather," Kermit said from the back of the Land Rover, leaning on the front seats as he peered out from between them. "Maybe it was just an animal?"
"I hope so. An injured person, out in this weather, could quickly succumb to hypothermia."
They finally pulled up in front of a low, sprawling stone farm house and were met by a short, stocky man with grizzled, greying hair.
"Mr Thomas?" Rees started, "you reported a strange sound."
"You don't look like police." The man looked at them suspiciously. "And what is all this about flowers?"
Then, their conversation was cut short as a long, eerie wail filled the air. It was high-pitched, and Blade shivered as he noticed how the farm-house's windows shook in reaction.
"That's it!" the farmer exclaimed.
Blade turned his head slowly, trying to pick the direction of the scream as it sobbed for long moments and then faded away. "What is out there?" he asked, pointing beyond the farm.
"That's the river. It's not much normally, but it can get nasty when rain or melted snow fills it."
"How far away?" Rees asked, concerned about getting help to a badly injured person.
"About half a mile, if you go straight across my paddock."
"Thank you, Mr Thomas," said Rees, "we'll take over now."
"Just be careful, son. That river can be treacherous." Then the farmer nodded to them and went back inside, meeting his wife as she waited for him at the door. Soon, the house was locked down against the elements, even the curtains being pulled as Blade and the others watched.
The shriek rose again, and made the three men shiver as they collected what they needed from their vehicle – waterproof torches, safety gear and Rees' medical kit – and followed the sound.
The wail rose and fell a number of times as it led them toward the far sounds of rushing water. Finally, the sound of water was almost as loud as that of the eerie shriek, and soon the three men could see the gleam of the river as it moved under the fitful moonlight.
They stood on the damp, snow-covered bank and stopped to listen. The wail was louder now, almost rattling the teeth in their heads, but there was no-one visible. The sound was like a wall around them, making it impossible to pick its direction.
"We're going to have to split up," Rees said. "Kermit, you go left, and Blade, you go right. That way I have an equal distance to get to you quickly if you find the culprit. Stay in contact at all times, and no closer to the bank than we are now. You fall in there and if you don't drown, the hypothermia will certainly finish you off."
Blade watched as Kermit began to walk carefully in the other direction then he nodded at the medic and headed on his assigned route. The way was slippery, and Blade took care to stay well back from the bank and its sheer slip into the dark, churning water of the river.
The wail pierced the air again and made Blade shiver. Something, deep in his psyche, warned him back, but he had a job to do.
The snow fell softly, making barely a sound against the shrill wail and the rushing of the water. The sky was dark despite the white falling, and only occasionally did the moon manage to break through the heavy clouds.
The wail reached a crescendo and then ended with a single sob. Blade stopped, waiting for the sound to pick up again, still unable to tell from which direction it had come. Then it picked up again, and Blade continued forward.
Coming around a small copse of trees, their branches denuded against the winter chill, Blade saw a figure on the other side of the swift-running stream. He swore, wondering how the hell they were going to rescue the stranded… he couldn't pick their wailer's sex from here.
Approaching the bank carefully, Blade peered across the water and then shook his head. He pulled out his binoculars and had a closer look.
The wailer was young, pretty, her long dark hair falling wetly over her shoulders and down over her breasts. She was dressed in what looked like a long white shift dress, little more than a nightie. Bloody hell, he thought, no wonder she was wailing. She'd have to be freezing!
"Hey, miss," Blade yelled as loud as he could across the rushing water.
The shriek rose again, her head lifting as her mouth opened. She didn't seem to see him, staring blindly across the river as if Blade wasn't even there.
"Rees, Kermit, I've found her. She seems unharmed but she's going to freeze to death at this rate."
"On my way," Kermit's voice sounded through the radio.
Blade waited for Lieutenant Rees to reply. Nothing. "Rees, come in please." Again, no sound. "Kermit, can you check on Rees on your way past him?"
"Will do, out."
The wail reached a crescendo again, and Blade knelt on the river bank opposite her, trying to place himself in her line of sight. She sobbed brokenly, wringing her wet hair with her hands.
"Come on, honey, look at me."
Her head rose at his voice, and her mouth opened again to release a long, thin shriek as her eyes locked on his. Holding his gaze, she slid sinuously into the rushing water, ignoring his yell for her to stop, and disappeared under the water.
"Rees, Kermit, she's gone in the water. I repeat, she's in the water. Captain Jacobs, Captain Ryan, come in please. Urgent, come in please!"
"Blade, we're on our way, what can we do to help?" Ryan's voice chimed in his ear.
"We need a boat. I can't see her, she has to have been swept downstream."
"Understood, will pass along to the local police. Stay put."
"Request permission to follow the bank downstream," asked Blade.
"No, repeat, no. Stay put. The police will find the body if she washes downstream."
"Sir," Blade interjected, "Rees is not answering."
"On it. We're approaching your Land Rover now. Stay put, will be with you in a few minutes."
Blade signed off and dropped back to his knees, lowering his head into his hands. Why the hell had she gone into the water? He dropped down on to his rump and let his head hang. There was nothing he could do now. There was no way the girl could have survived the river. She'd wash up downstream, probably in the spring. God, what a mess.
A small splash sounded in front of him, and Blade's head shot up. The splash came again, and he ventured forward carefully, making sure he didn't join the unfortunate girl in the depths of the river.
Something threw itself out of the murky water, almost up onto the bank in front of him. A white face loomed, all teeth and hair, and a piercing shriek almost drove him in to unconsciousness.
Blade used the last of his strength to throw himself backward, away from the apparition before him. She continued to scream, locking eye to eye, and then she began to slide backward, down into the water. And then she was gone.
His heart beating as if it was about to burst free of his chest, Blade rested his outflung body on his elbows. Then he scrambled backward desperately, terrified that whatever that thing was might come back for him.
"Blade!" Voices called behind him, away from the bank of the river, and he risked turning to look. Torches flashed through the dark and he could see running figures.
Soon, Ryan knelt behind him. "You look like you've seen a ghost, mate. What happened?"
"She was here!"
Cutter knelt beside him. "The girl? Where'd she go?"
Blade turned to Ryan earnestly. "She was here, boss. She came out of the water in front of me, then she went back in."
Ryan looked closely at him. "She came out of the water and got up the bank on her own?"
Blade nodded.
"Oh God," Stephen said, his voice awed.
They all looked up and followed the line of Stephen's gaze. There, across the swiftly-flowing river, a young woman pulled herself up effortlessly out of the rushing water, as if it had no hold on her.
She climbed up onto the river bank and turned to seat herself, wringing out her long, wet hair as she did so. Once she was settled to her satisfaction, she set to wailing again. Her mouth opened and a high-pitched scream let loose and carried out over the water to the men watching her.
Blade felt his captain's hands rest reassuringly on his shoulders as he tried to scramble backward.
"I think we have found our ghost," Ryan said.
"Bean shìdh, we call her in Scotland. The Irish call her bean sídhe," Cutter said quietly, never taking his eyes off the woman wailing on the other side of the water.
"What?"
Cutter turned and looked in Ryan's eyes. "Banshee."
Blade's radio crackled and he watched with only half his attention as Ryan lifted his hand to respond. His mind was fuzzy, his thoughts full of his gran's voice telling him to stay away from the washer woman - the washer at the ford - if he knew what was good for him. Her wail only brought death. And now the washer at the ford sat across from him, wailing her dirge. Someone was going to die.
"Stay with him, we're on our way," Ryan said, his brisk tone cutting through the mist in Blade's mind. "Come on, mate, up you get."
Ryan pulled Blade to his feet, Cutter taking his other arm. Blade looked up to see Cutter reach forward, tapping Stephen on the arm and making their tracker look at them. Stephen's eyes were huge, dark, and Blade shivered.
They got going, resolutely putting the wailing behind them. Blade shivered as the snow fell on his face, the touch icy against his heated skin. He felt like he was burning up inside, everything in him yelling to run and never stop. Ryan's hand was firm on his arm, as if his captain could read his thoughts. Blade could only be grateful that someone was still able to think clearly. All Blade knew was that everything his grandmother had told him, every warning, every caution, was true. He'd always known, somewhere deep inside, but had denied that knowledge as he had grown into a man, but now he remembered. It was all coming back.
Never trust the Fair Folk. The daoine sidhe were dangerous.
Mentally shaking himself, Blade fought for control. Soon, his breathing eased and the heat prickling his scalp, despite the cold, retreated. Ryan looked at him, and Blade nodded. He was fine. Ryan looked at him for along moment, then let go of his arm and stepped back. Blade smiled his gratitude, but said nothing.
He didn't realise how long he had been in a daze, but they'd covered much of the distance to where he and Kermit had left Rees. Blade frowned. He would see a single figure, kneeling on the hard, snow-covered ground, but something seemed wrong.
Where there had been smooth white, now there was a riot of colours. Blade gasped.
They picked up speed, and soon the group stood over Kermit as he knelt on the ground. He was surrounded by an array of wildflowers in all colours and hues, some barely clearing the frozen ground while others languidly brushed Kermit's face as he sat beside another form.
And there, sleeping peacefully in the centre of the wild garden, was Lieutenant Matt Rees.
*~*~*~*~*
The door to the guest-house was flung open as Ryan carefully brought the Land Rover to a halt in the treacherous conditions. Ditzy, the medic for Lyle's team, came running, Captain Jacobs not far behind him.
"You got here fast," Ryan muttered to his fellow captain as they carefully lifted the limp form of Rees between them.
"You broke my medic," answered Jacobs.
"I'm pretty sure the flowers broke Rees," Ryan said. "And doesn’t that sentence sound weird?"
Jacobs shook his head ruefully. "We've faced all sorts of big beasties and Rees gets taken out by a bunch of flowers."
"Could have been worse," Ryan said as Ditzy supervised Rees' transport into the guest-house and up to a first floor room. "Cutter says we've got a banshee."
Jacob's face was shocked, and even Ditzy looked up in surprise for a moment before going back to checking his patient's vitals.
"You're kidding." Jacobs stared at Ryan's serious face. "You're not kidding. Bloody hell."
"Our screamer crossed the water, scared the hell out of Blade, and then went back to her own side of the river and set up her caterwauling again. I saw it for myself."
"Anyone know what do to against a banshee?"
Ryan didn't have an answer for that, and was saved from having to say so by Ditzy, who covered Matt Rees with a duvet and turned to face the two captains.
"There are no obvious injuries and his stats are good. If I didn't know better, I'd just say he was asleep," Ditzy reported.
Captain Jacobs looked down at his team member. "Any idea of how long he's going to be like this?"
Ditzy shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. He's got eye movement, so I'd say he's in REM sleep. Expect him to be out for a while yet."
"But he's in no danger?" Jacobs asked.
"I don't think so, but I'm going to keep an eye on him."
Jacobs nodded. "All right. I'll be in the Op Centre. Let me know if his condition changes."
Ryan and Jacobs made their way silently down the stairs and into the large room that their techs had taken over. The camera feeds were displayed on the large screen, and Cutter and Stephen Hart were huddled together with Connor and Abby. The youngest team members' eyes were huge as Cutter explained what they were dealing with.
"A banshee?" Jenny Lewis said from behind the captains.
Ryan turned around to watch their PR expert enter the room. "That's what Cutter is saying."
"What about your opinion, Ryan?" she asked.
"I saw her pull herself up out of the raging river without any effort. And her scream could probably shatter glass. Didn't look or sound natural to me."
"So what does that make the flowers?"
Ryan shrugged. "I'm hoping Cutter has some ideas."
"Let's go see then, shall we?"
Jenny took a seat on the other side of the coffee table on which Connor had his laptop. Cutter looked up and smiled reassuringly at her, and then returned to his conversation with Connor and Abby.
"All right, lad, this speculation is all well and good, but what I think we need is a local expert," said Cutter.
Connor nodded enthusiastically even as Abby continued to look sceptical. Ryan knew how she felt. Even having seen this banshee of Cutter's, he was still having trouble wrapping his mind around the supernatural.
"Where are we going to find an expert on fairies at eight pm on Boxing Day?" Stephen asked.
Jenny leaned forward and joined the conversation. "Stephen has a good point, Nick."
"Maybe the local police know someone," Cutter said.
Everyone turned to look at Captain Jacobs, who had last been with the local constabulary. He shrugged and flicked the talk switch on his radio just as Maguire's voice came through.
"Captain Jacobs, come in please."
"Here, Maguire. Report."
"Ummmm… this is going to sound strange, but Mrs Kavanaugh, the Murchison's granny, insists we've got fairies."
Ryan and Jacobs looked at each other. Then Jacobs spoke into radio, "She knows about fairies, Maguire?"
"Says so. Says the flowers are from trooping fairies and everyone needs to get inside now. She's busy getting her son-in-law to nail up horseshoes over all the doors."
Ryan looked at Cutter, who grinned. Looks like they’d found their expert. "Maguire, this is Ryan. Can you bring Mrs Kavanaugh up to the guest-house?"
There was a momentary silence, and then Maguire continued. "She's not keen on venturing outside, sir."
"What can we do to protect her?"
There was silence again. "She says iron, sir."
"Will steel do?" Ryan asked.
"Apparently, yeah."
"How many knives do you and Anders have between you?"
Ryan could almost hear the penny drop at the other end of the radio. Not to mention, he was beginning to understand why the flowers had stopped when he had faced them.
"ETA in fifteen minutes, sir. Out."
The time quickly passed as Ryan watched Connor check the camera feeds. A discussion on where to place extra cameras was soon underway, as the academics tried to figure out how to better warn the local populace of danger.
Ryan was quickly coming to the opinion that Mrs Kavanaugh had had the right idea – stay inside while their unwelcome visitors were out and about. If the things didn't like iron, surely it wouldn't be too hard in this modern age to guard homes against them?
A nearby door closed, and Mrs Kavanaugh – a tiny woman with a blue rinse almost the colour of her eyes – bustled in with Mrs Carsten hard on her heels.
Both women stopped as they caught sight of the multiple camera feeds.
"Faerie portal," Mrs Kavanaugh whispered. "Holy Mary, Mother of God, they really are back," and she crossed herself.
Cutter was on his feet quickly, leading the old woman to a seat. Mrs Carsten left and was soon back with a tray laden with food and drink. She seemed ill-inclined to leave. Cutter looked at Ryan, shrugged, and seemed to simply accept the situation.
Ryan sighed. It didn't take a crystal ball to see where this was going, and Lester was not going to be happy if they had to get the whole village – including minors – to sign the Official Secrets Act.
"Mrs Kavanaugh," Cutter started. "You appear to know what we are dealing with here."
The old lady nodded, taking a moment to sip delicately from a tea cup. "Faerie, sir."
"Please call me Cutter," he smiled.
Mrs Kavanaugh returned his smile, then her gaze wandered back to the images on the display screen. "I've never seen a faerie portal before."
"We call them anomalies," Cutter replied. "They connect different times and places to our time. It seems that they've gone a little further afield this time."
Mrs Kavanaugh blinked. "You've dealt with the faerie before?"
"We've dealt with creatures a little more mundane than the faerie."
"Dinosaurs," Connor said, grinning.
Mrs Carsten and Mrs Kavanaugh turned to look at him, their faces shocked.
"Connor!' Stephen muttered.
"She knows about fairies," Connor said, grinning. "I'd say that trumps us knowing about dinosaurs."
Looking uncertainly around the room, Mrs Kavanaugh took another sip of her tea, as if to fortify herself, and then turned back to Cutter. "You seem to have everything well in hand, sir, with your technology and your soldiers. I'm certain there's nothing I could do to help."
"Mrs Kavanaugh, I assure you, we do need your help. Now, can you tell us what we need to do to protect the village?"
"I wouldn't mind knowing why Rees is unconscious," Jacobs added.
"Unconscious?" she asked.
"We found him, seemingly asleep, in a bed of those wildflowers," Cutter said.
"They tried to take him? Why didn't they take him?" Mrs Kavanaugh mused. Then she looked up at Cutter. "Is this young man handsome?"
Cutter nodded.
"There have been tales of young men and women being abducted by the faerie."
"I thought christening protected people?" Stephen asked.
Mrs Kavenaugh shook her head. "We have had faerie activity here up almost until modern times. The sidhe were here long before Christianity. The church would like to think that they are responsible for pushing the sidhe back beyond the veil, but in reality, it was cold iron."
Cutter appeared to think for a long moment. Then he shrugged. "Well, that explains why the flowers avoided Ryan, but not why they went after Lieutenant Rees."
"Your young man is a soldier?" she asked.
Cutter nodded.
"A young person needs to be bewitched in order to be taken by the faeries. Maybe, with so much iron on him, they were only able to bewitch him but not able to transport him? Iron is poison to them."
"It's as good a hypothesis as any," Cutter agreed.
"So what do we do now, Professor?" asked Ryan.
Cutter sighed and sat back in his own seat, cradling a coffee mug. "It's too early to tell for sure, but all indications point to the sidhe being nocturnal. If we can just keep everyone safe for the rest of tonight, then tomorrow we can plan properly."
"Implement a curfew," Stephen added, "unless travelling by car. Make sure each household knows where their members are before sundown."
"For how long, though?" asked Jenny. "We can't lock down a whole village every night for the foreseeable future."
Peering up at the anomaly as it twinkled in the light snowfall, Mrs Kavanaugh ventured a question of her own. "When did the faerie portal open?"
"Just after sundown yesterday," Cutter said.
The old woman frowned, deep in thought. Then she nodded to herself. "In all our folklore about faeries hereabouts, the most active time is during the twelve days of Christmas."
"But it opened yesterday," Abby said. "I thought the twelve days started on the 26th?"
Mrs Kavanaugh shook her head. "In earlier times, a day ended at sundown, so the twelve days of Christmas starts at sundown December 25th and ends sunrise January 6th."
"Twelve nights," Cutter said, "and we're less than halfway through night number two."
Ryan heard footsteps on the stairs leading to the upper floors and left the discussion in the Op Centre to its own devices. Stepping out into the vestibule, Ryan looked up to see their two medics, Ditzy and Rees, making their way down the stairs.
"How are you feeling, Lieutenant?"
"Embarrassed, sir," Rees said.
Ryan grinned and clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "You probably just needed your beauty sleep. Come on through and you can tell us what you remember."
Jacobs looked up as they returned to the room, his relief at seeing Rees on his feet fully evident.
Ditzy steered Rees to a seat and stood off to one side, keeping an eye on his patient.
"Matt," Jacobs said, looking closely at him. "Can you tell us what happened?"
Rees shrugged. "I was facing the river, keeping an ear on my radio, when suddenly I was completely surrounded by those flowers." He shuddered and Ditzy took a step forward before bringing himself to a stop.
Rees continued, "There were voices. I couldn't understand them, but there were whispers everywhere. Then I got sleepy. I tried to fight it, and tried to radio for help. I can't remember anything after that."
"How do you feel now, Matt?" asked Jacobs.
"Fine, sir, apart from a terminal case of embarrassment." Rees tried to smile, his mortification obvious.
Jacobs looked up at Ryan, who nodded and caught Cutter's eye. Leaving the group to Mrs Carsten's tender mercies, the three men moved off into the vestibule to talk in peace.
"So these things don't like iron," Jacobs said.
"Which makes the cars one of the safest places," added Cutter.
"As long as we don't get blizzard conditions and people start freezing to death trying to avoid being taken by fairies." Ryan couldn't quite believe he'd just said that. And he thought he'd seen everything when he'd encountered his first dinosaur.
"We should be able to secure most homes with iron and steel," Cutter said. "We just have to get word out that it isn't safe to wander around on foot after dark for the next week or so."
Jacobs nodded at that. "Lester isn't going to like it, but I say we call a village meeting tomorrow, show some of Temple's footage, and tell people how to protect themselves."
"Aye," Cutter said. "I'll let Jenny handle Lester." Cutter shook his head, utterly bemused. "We have a faerie incursion."
With that, Cutter turned and went back into the Ops Centre to get the beginnings of their plan underway.
Ryan and Jacobs looked at each other for a long moment. Then Jacobs smiled. "Fairies. What next? Vampires?"
*~*~*~*~*
January 5th opened clear and sunny, if chilly. The snow had ceased three days earlier, and the icy road conditions had eased a day later.
The ARC team and the village residents went about what had quickly settled into a routine. The community meeting had been short, to the point, and surprisingly, had included very few sceptics.
Soon, all the buildings in the area had sported any bits of iron and steel that could be foraged, and the younger inhabitants had started a new trend in steel jewellery, much of which had involved safety pins.
This had all added up to a relatively abduction-free Christmas-New Year break, with only the nightly floral processions and the wailing of their riverside guest to remind everyone that there were supernatural forces on the prowl.
That morning, as per usual, Mrs Carsten fed her guests in shifts, making breakfast a long, complicated affair, but it helped to pass the time. Lester had tried to recall some of the team, in particular Captain Jacobs and his men, but had been argued to a standstill by Cutter, who had a very, very bad feeling that Twelfth Night was quite possibly going to be spectacular.
The weather turned bad as the afternoon progressed, dark clouds building up overhead to hang threateningly over the small village and its surrounds.
Now, the evening closing in around the ARC team and its Special Forces support, everyone was in their places, ready for the start of Twelfth Night.
*~*~*~*~*
Amy Murchison sat huddled in the front seat of Adam Davis's car, knowing deep in her bones that this had been a bad idea. Not the going out after dark side of things – she'd listened attentively to the very nice looking soldiers when they'd said that the safest place to be, outside, was in a car – but that she was out after dark in this car.
Adam was an idiot. Amy had long suspected this, but now she had proof. Her concern rose with every downward drop of the petrol gauge. Peering out the window, she could see the lights of their little village, off in the distance. Amy crossed her fingers.
The car coughed and then finally slid to a halt under the heavy, night-time clouds.
Amy would have sworn if she had any assurance her words would not make their way back to her gran.
Adam tried the ignition key again, tapped the plastic covering the gauges, and then smiled at Amy with what she could only assume was completely false bravado.
"Well, we're nearly there. Ten minutes and I'll have you at your front door," Adam said as he opened the car door.
Amy just looked at him like she could see his IQ dropping with each breath. "I'm not getting out of this car."
"Come on, Ames, it's just over there!" he said, pointing vaguely in the direction of her home.
"The soldiers said stay in the car," Amy said in flat tones as she dug around in her bag for her mobile phone. That was the only way to deal with idiots, she was quickly coming to realise. "I'm phoning my dad to come get us."
Adam placed his hands on the door lining and leaned in. "And would you have taken as much notice of what they'd said if that soldier was bald with missing teeth?"
Amy stared at him. Definitely an idiot. Writing him off as totally useless boyfriend material, even if he did have a car – when it worked – she went back to rummaging for her phone. Her mum always said her bag was like a Tardis.
With a relieved chirp, she saw the blasted thing and pulled it out, just about to hit the Murchison family's number in speed dial, when she heard something. Whispers.
"Adam!" Amy looked frantically around the car, searching for the strange sounds. Along the side of the road, coming from the direction of the village, Amy could see a burst of colour coming up through the almost frozen ground. "Get in the car!"
It was too late. Amy threw herself against the passenger door, making sure it was locked and the window still up. Then she turned back to look at Adam. Her friend just stood there, his eyes gone large and dark as flowers of all shapes and colours bloomed around his ankles. Some touched the metal skin of the car and actually seemed to recoil.
"Adam!"
He turned to her, his eyes blank like deep pools, lit only by the small overhead light, and he reached inside the car toward her. Amy screamed, clutching the daisy-chain necklace she had made of safety pins, and Adam froze for a long moment. The two life-long friends were caught, Adam unable to go forward and Amy utterly terrified to move.
Then Adam took a step back, away from the car, leaving the door swinging open behind him. Turning away, he looked up at the darkened sky and then began to fall ever so slowly backward until the flowers caught and cushioned him.
The procession of flowers, all the while whispering, began to move again, carrying Adam just above the ground as they sped away. Soon Amy was alone.
"Daddy? Daddy! Come and get me," she sobbed into her phone.
*~*~*~*~*
The sky was beginning to burst open as the collection of ARC Land Rovers, police cars and civilian vehicles surrounded Adam Davis's abandoned car.
The driver's door hung open, the headlights still shining through the rain, and there, in the passenger seat, was a small white face.
Nick Cutter shivered. The car seemed too big for the girl, as if it was going to devour her at any moment. And then he remembered that it was most likely the car that had saved her from abduction.
Climbing out of the Land Rover with Stephen, noticing that Blade left the ignition running, the three walked slowly but steadily toward the car. The poor little mite looked terrified – no reason to scare her any further.
Then her dad rushed past them, coming to an abrupt halt as Blade caught his arm. "Not yet, sir."
Mr Murchison turned on the soldier, his face a mask of fear and anger, but Blade just shook his head and handed him over to Cutter.
"Something's been here, Murchison," said Cutter. "We're no help to Amy if we fall victim to whatever got young Adam. Amy is safest where she is for now."
Cutter, Stephen and Murchison watched as Blade, one of his namesake weapons in one hand, carefully approached the car, Amy's eyes following him all the while. Cutter didn't know if she was in shock, or if she was a sensible sort who had remembered their instructions. The fact that she was there, alone in the car, made him think that it was the latter.
"Amy, honey," Blade called out, "I'm coming in, okay?"
Amy nodded, pressing herself even more firmly against the passenger side as Blade approached the open driver's door.
The soldier stopped, looking down, and Cutter followed his gaze. Then Cutter looked closer.
"The car is surrounded by the flowers," said Stephen.
"Oh God," Mr Murchison said as they watched Blade take a step and have a good look at the bed of wildflowers that he was standing in.
"Cutter," Blade called back, "I can't hear anything strange." He leaned down, ran the blade of his knife along the petals of the flowers and then watched. Nothing moved.
"I think they're gone," Cutter yelled. "All we have is their handiwork."
Blade turned back to look at them. "Hart, open the back of our Rover. I'm going to carry her straight to it." Then, not waiting to see if his orders had been carried out, he slid into the driver's seat and pushed it back as far as it could go. Then he turned to face Amy.
"Amy, my name is Blade," he started to say.
Amy looked down at his knife and back up into his eyes.
Blade smiled, "Yeah, that sort of blade. Now, I’m going to pull out a smaller knife and strap it to your arm. Okay?"
Amy nodded, her eyes wide, one hand holding tight to a linked chain of safety pins like her life depended on it.
Blade had a horrible feeling that those safety pins were all that had saved her from her friend's fate, whatever that was. Pulling a small knife, along with its ankle sheath, from under his trousers, he set about strapping it securely to Amy's forearm.
"Okay, Amy. Now, I'm going to reach across you and unlock the door." Blade moved slowly and steadily, but even so, Amy flinched as his arm touched her shoulder in passing. "Done. Now I'm going to come around that side of the car and carry you over to that big Land Rover of ours."
Amy shook her head and started crying.
Cutter had to grab Murchison as he tried to go to his daughter again. Cutter could hear her crying from there, accompanied by Blade's low tones.
"Amy, honey, look at me," the soldier said. "They're gone, and anyway, they can't touch me." He tapped the large knife resting on his lap before sliding it into its own sheath, and Amy tried to smile through her tears.
Cutter watched as Blade slid out of the car, keeping eye contact with Amy for as long as possible. Then the soldier looked over at Stephen, where he stood beside the open back of the Land Rover, and then met Cutter's eyes.
Quickly, the soldier strode around to the other side of the car, always staying in Amy's line of sight, and then opened the door, catching her as she began to slip. He slid his arms under his knees and around her back and then stepped away from the car, only far enough to clear the open door.
Then Blade was running straight for the Land Rover, past Amy's distraught father, stopping beside Stephen as he placed the girl safely in a seat and strapped her in. Finally he closed the door behind her and locked it securely.
Cutter turned back to look at the abandoned car sitting in the rain, its lights still blazing, both front doors open.
One child safe – time to go find the other one.
*~*~*~*~*
The operations centre in the guest-house was buzzing with activity, the camera feeds taking pride of place on the big display screen as ARC personnel, soldiers and locals milled around.
The front door was flung open and Blade carried Amy inside, her father hot on their heels, setting her down on a loveseat for Rees to check over.
"Connor," Cutter asked, "any sign of the boy on the cameras?"
Connor shook his head, listening to a radio conversation as he did so. He held up one hand while he talked into the earpiece and then turned back to his mentor.
"Sorry, Cutter, he isn't at the anomaly. We're still getting reports from all our out-posted units, but nothing yet."
Blade stepped forward. "Are there any gaps in our grid?"
Connor pointed to a map spread out on the coffee table. "We could use a team near the anomaly, in case the fairies try to carry him through, and we're thin on the ground out near Hollyhock Farm."
Cutter watched Blade swallow and then nod decisively. "I'll take Hollyhock Farm."
"Not on your own, Blade," Rees said.
Cutter shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but it's too dangerous for you out there. You've been bewitched once, best not to risk it again."
Rees' face darkened for a moment and then he nodded.
"I'll go with Blade," said Stephen.
"Not without me, you don't!"
"Cutter, you're much more use here," Stephen replied.
"And you're much too pretty to be out there with only one soldier," Cutter grinned.
Blade looked from one to the other and then added his own grin. "Cutter's got you there, mate. So, are you both coming?"
They nodded and headed out for the Land Rover.
*~*~*~*~*
The floral procession meandered across the large, flat paddock, making leisurely curlicues in the cold earth as the flowers weaved and waltzed in time to the sounds of the river nearby.
The watcher at the ford crossed her waters to meet them, her wail a quieter, gentler timbre as she danced in amongst the flowers. Her song, to the accompaniment of tinkling whispers, carried across the paddock and to the closed and shuttered windows of Hollyhock Farm.
Mary Thomas timidly parted the curtains, looked out into the driving rain and could see faerie lights playing across her paddock. She shivered, pulled the curtains closed tightly behind her and went to phone Braithwaite Guest House.
*~*~*~*~*
The two Land Rovers pulled up at Hollyhock Farm in the heavy rain. Cutter shivered as he wound down the window and tried to peer outside. Beside him, Ryan pulled on his wet weather gear and got out of the car.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and Cutter turned around to meet Stephen's smile. Stephen handed over a waterproof coat and pulled on his own before sliding out of the back seat of the Rover and opening Cutter's door.
Across from them, Cutter saw Ditzy and Blade get out of the second Land Rover and approach them.
"Is the boy out there?" Cutter asked Ryan.
Ryan shrugged. "Mary Thomas couldn't tell. All she could say was that there was a lot of activity in that paddock."
"Nothing to it, then," Cutter said. "Let's go have a look."
"Make sure you are all protected," Ditzy warned as they began to walk, and Cutter watched as Ryan reached over and pulled up Stephen's sleeve, exposing a blade in its sheath.
"What about you, Cutter?" asked Ryan.
Cutter opened a few buttons on his shirt and exposed a chest harness with a large knife secured in it. Ryan turned to Blade and grinned.
"Not running out of knives are you, Blade?"
“No, boss."
"Good," Ryan said. "Let's go do this."
They walked across the muddy paddock, sometimes crossing the meandering trails of flowers as they went, until they could hear whispering and singing before them. Then, through the rain, they saw her dancing, her white dress trailing behind her as she whirled and twirled to the sound of her own song.
All around her, daffodils and bluebells cavorted, dancing around her bare feet. And carried on the procession of colour was the bewitched form of Adam Davis. His white face gleamed as the rain ran down it and a garland of flowers was hanging from his throat, trailing on the ground below him as he was transported.
"Blade, Ditz, head around them," Ryan ordered. "Stephen and Cutter, you stay with me. Let's see we can get them to drop Adam."
"Just as long as they don't drop him in the river," Stephen said, making Cutter shiver.
They spread out, trying to circle the dancing faeries and their wailing accompaniment, which was harder than Cutter had expected it to be. The flowers moved fast, turning on the head of a pin and whooshing off in the opposite direction if cornered.
Then the bean sidhe fled through them, making a break for the river, her wail rising to a crescendo as the trailing edge of her shroud wafted around Blade's feet, making him shudder in reaction.
Finally, the flowers stopped, the whispering stopped, and the men stood, drenched, their heads bowed with exhaustion as the rain cut a path down their faces and into any crack and opening in their clothing that could be found.
Ditzy stepped forward to check on Adam as Blade and Ryan took up watch. Stephen reached over and touched Cutter's arm to attract his attention. They turned to listen.
The wailer was back on her river, her dirge sharp like glass in the driving rain.
Cutter and Stephen, with unspoken agreement, began to follow the shrill sound as it filled the dark night until they could see as well as hear the rush of water. The river was swollen, the remnants of the past week's snow and the beginnings of that night's run-off filling it and creating dangerous rips and eddies in the muddy water.
They stopped as the bean sidhe came into sight, and stood opposite her as she looked up at them from her seat on the bank. Her mouth opened and a thin, shrill sound wafted across the water, sending shivers up their spines as the notes seemed to caress them with cold, wet fingers.
"Don't go too close to the edge," Blade warned, coming up behind them.
"How is Adam?" asked Cutter, never taking his eyes off the apparition across from them.
"Starting to come out of it."
"That fast?" asked Stephen.
Blade shrugged. "He wasn't wearing any iron. Probably didn't take as much to bewitch him as it did Rees."
Cutter grinned. "Amy said he was an idiot, so maybe that had an effect too."
Blade lifted a hand to his radio and listened for a moment, then he turned back to Cutter and Stephen. "Ditzy's ready to take Adam back to the guest-house."
Nodding, Cutter took one last look at the bean sidhe. There was nothing they could do about her. She had made no approaches, bar that one incident with Blade, and had done nothing more than wail her way through each night since her appearance. Cutter met her gaze, wondering what it was she saw, who she waited for, then shook himself out of his fanciful thoughts and headed off after Stephen and Blade.
Then a scream rent the air, only not from the river this time. His heart pounding, Cutter scanned the field for danger, but the boy was on him before Cutter knew what hit him.
Adam screamed again, his eyes wide and crazed as he ran from the blaze of colour that hunted him. Trails of flowers came from all directions, aimed at the boy, and Cutter could hear the frantic whispering long before the leading edge of the faerie procession reached him.
Then there was a dark flash in front of Cutter's eyes, and Blade was there, pulling Adam off of him and trying to restrain the boy's flailing arms. Ditzy came from another direction, grasping an outstretched arm as it collided with his black-clad chest.
But Adam was unstoppable, whether from fear or enchantment, Cutter didn't know. Stephen came up from behind, Ryan beside him, and Blade struggled to hold the boy still long enough for Ditzy to sedate him.
Blade wrapped his arms around Adam's torso from behind, ignoring the flurry of blooms that brushed against his legs and shied away from the metal hidden in various leg and ankle sheaths.
Adam wailed, almost drowning out the siren song of the bean sidhe, whose shriek seemed to be everywhere, pounding in Cutter's skull.
Struggling, Adam began to slide, taking Blade with him. Stephen yelled, seeing where their direction would take them, and Ditzy hurled himself bodily across the flower-strewn ground, grabbing Adam's right leg and holding on with all his might.
But now all three men slid, their path taking them toward the riverbank. All around them, flowers whispered and the bean sidhe's song sobbed, her wail reaching a crescendo as Ryan pulled out his own knife, plunged it into the hard ground and grabbed Ditzy's belt as the medic slid past him.
"No!" Ryan yelled as Stephen rushed to help him. "Keep behind me, no closer!"
Stephen ran, keeping low and avoiding the flowers that covered the ground all the way to the riverbank. Coming up behind Ryan, he grabbed the soldier's belt and began, slowly, to pull them all back from the edge.
Then Cutter shuddered. The bean sidhe was silent, and Cutter stopped his headlong rush to help Stephen bear the weight of the prostrate men and turned to face the river.
She sat, quiet, on her side of the river, her eyes blazing as she stared intently at one spot. Cutter followed her gaze and gasped. Blade hung out over the rushing water, only his legs on the riverbank. Adam was still held tight in his grasp, and the boy continued to struggle.
"God," Cutter gasped, "pull them in, now!"
Stephen and Ryan began to pull on Ditzy's legs, the weight of the two men hanging out over the river, sliding ever so slowly back on to solid ground.
Then flowers burst right up to the edge of the bank, brushing Adam's arms as he tried to pull himself back from the river, and the boy screamed and began to flail again. He and Blade began to slip, and in the background Cutter saw the bean sidhe slide into the water.
Blade's head touched the rushing water, and Adam screamed again as he was splashed. Cutter's heart threatened to stop as the two men slid further, Blade's head going under for a moment before he managed to lift it clear.
Then time seemed to freeze. Blade's gaze slid past him to meet his captain's. Ryan swore, his face a rictus of strain and anguish, and then he yelled as the boy's body suddenly lifted in the corner of Cutter's vision.
Cutter turned to see Ditzy pull Adam in, pinning him with his own body when the boy continued to struggle. Ryan pulled them further inland, his expression one of searing anger. Cutter looked beyond them.
Blade was nowhere to be seen.
*~*~*~*~*
This was her element, as close as she could hope to find in this world given over to the blood-metal poison. Through the brackish, rushing water she flowed, the water sliding along her pale cold skin as if it were the touch of a lover.
But there were darker things in the river than the water's cold touch, and she swam straight for the stink of cold iron, although its rank cloud in the water turned her stomach.
The mortal man sank like a stone, possessing nothing of her innate grace, twisting in the buffeting currents as he struggled to free himself from the heavy weight of his waterlogged clothes.
Soon they were face to face, bubbles escaping from the mortal's lips as he shrugged out of a heavy jacket and let it fall. But it wasn't enough. The current caught him, pushing him further downstream and knocking him under each time he tried to make for the surface.
With a simple flip of her bare feet, she was with him again, staring into his white face with its emerald eyes as he began to struggle and then to fade.
"Mortal," she whispered, her voice a low moan in the water.
"Mortal," she repeated. "Do you want to live?"
A hand reached for her, then stopped, uncertain.
"I cannot help you while you reek of blood-metal, mortal man."
Green eyes looked at her, his breath long gone, and then with one last effort he desperately stripped away blade after blade. From his arms, his legs, his torso and even his back, one by one they fell to the riverbed.
But it was too late. Emerald eyes closed before her, his body going limp in the raging current that began to pull him away from her.
He was hers: hers to mourn or hers to save, and she would not let the river have him. Darting forward, she wrapped long, thin arms around his limp body, driving him upward and free of the water.
The riverbank was nearby and she strove for it, the beat in the mortal warrior's chest sounding only softly against her own.
Mortal arms reached out, rank with the smell of blood-metal, and she almost recoiled, taking her prize with her. But he was limp in her arms, his eyelids pale and blue-limned from cold and lack of air.
She pulled herself up onto the bank with one arm, her prize secure in the other, her voice a low moan that echoed the tumble of the waters beneath her. Looking up, she faced mortal after mortal, each tainted with the stink of blood-metal and all of them reaching for her prize.
Setting him down, she moved back, sliding effortlessly into the water where she watched the mortal men work to save their own. One, his own eyes a cheerful brown, shared breath until her prize coughed and started to breathe again.
Soon, her prize was sitting up, his green eyes dimmed but still shining as he met her gaze. Behind the mortals, dancing to their own music, her little friends watched, knowing that this time there would be no playmates.
Falling back into the depth, her song sung, her task done, the bean sidhe knew it was time to go home.
*~*~*~*~*
Word of what had happened at the river soon spread. Teenagers, hearing what had almost happened to Adam Davis, all decided that maybe it was time for an early night. Within an hour, the streets of Ironbridge were abandoned, the houses securely locked up with even more iron making its appearance over door lintels and window sashes.
Now, as the countdown to sunrise continued, the field hosting the anomaly was full of vehicles. It was a strange sight, first the anomaly, glittering in the predawn stillness, then a wide circle of cameras on their stakes, and then an even wider array of Land Rovers, cars and a police vehicle – all making up a three-quarter outer circle.
And off to one side was a corridor, set aside to allow their visitors to make it to the anomaly and home, without coming into contact with what Blade had called blood-metal.
Bird song took up a chorus as light began to penetrate the morning mist, and then stranger voices sounded.
Looking through the Land Rover's side mirror, Cutter could see a carpet of flowers coming toward them at great speed, the riotous display weaving and cavorting in the pale predawn light. Behind the flowers flowed a wisp of white material, barely visible, seemingly carried on the low breeze.
The playful procession meandered past the camera spikes, keeping its distance as it broke into four distinct trails, dancing in circles and curlicues, first around the floating wisp and then the anomaly itself.
Then the wisp of white began to dance and twirl until a long, lean form swayed there, her hair dark and wet as it fell down her slim body. Her dance was silent, no sign of her wailing dirge to be heard.
She stopped, looked around the vehicles parked there and then gestured toward the second Land Rover, her bow both graceful and regal.
"She saved his life," Ryan said quietly.
Cutter nodded. "I always thought that they were bad luck, harbingers of death, but she saved him."
Stephen leaned forward between the Land Rover seats. "Maybe her song was just a warning."
"Perhaps," Ryan agreed. "All I know is that I have a man who is alive now, because of her."
Then all conversation stilled as they stared out the windscreen toward the anomaly. The flowers had reached the jagged shards of light and, silhouetted against the anomaly, figures began to appear.
They were small, some grotesque with misshapen heads and huge feet, others small and dainty with dragonfly wings. One, almost the size of a small child, was hairy, his shaggy pelt covering him from head to toe.
One by one, each bowed first to the bean sidhe and then the assembled mortals, and then danced through the anomaly. Until only the bean sidhe was left. Turning to the humans watching her, she opened her mouth, let free one, pure tone and then turned and stepped through the anomaly, leaving only the faint echo of her song behind her.
Then, as the first light caught the shards of the anomaly, it twinkled once and then closed.
Cutter sat back and sighed with relief.
Twelve days.
Twelve days of danger and enchantment, but now it was over. Although he couldn't help but hope that, one day, he might meet the faerie again.
The End.
Final note: I've taken horrible liberties by having Twelth Night end on the morning of January 6th and with the size of Ironbridge, Shropshire. Considering the story, the name was perfect. The real village has over 2000 residents. My version only has a couple of hundred. *g*
Author: munchkinofdoom
Fandom: Primeval
Rating: R
Spoilers: Set in a mythical 2nd season where no-one died and Cutter and Stephen are getting on perfectly fine. *g*
Warnings: Ummm… I wasn't as fluffy this year. Thank goodness
telperion_15 gave me my head. *shifty look* So, supernatural themes, some low level horror, no maiming or death.Word Count: 16,500
Characters: Stephen/Ryan, Cutter, Connor, Abby, Jenny, Blade, Ditzy, Kermit, Captain Jacobs, Anders, Rees.
Summary: The twelve days of Christmas was not always the sole province of the Christmas carol, and not always so innocent.
Disclaimer: Primeval and its characters are the property of Impossible Pictures. No money is being made from this fanfic.
Cover art by
lsellersficBlade drove carefully up the long, winding, gravel driveway that led to Hollyhock Farm. He could see lights in the distance, through the light snowfall, and followed the driveway in that direction.
Lieutenant Rees wiped condensation from the inside of the windscreen and peered through the frosted glass. "Jacobs didn't give you any more information?"
"Nope. Sorry, mate, just some sort of screaming coming from outside," Blade answered.
"We'll be lucky to find anyone in this weather," Kermit said from the back of the Land Rover, leaning on the front seats as he peered out from between them. "Maybe it was just an animal?"
"I hope so. An injured person, out in this weather, could quickly succumb to hypothermia."
They finally pulled up in front of a low, sprawling stone farm house and were met by a short, stocky man with grizzled, greying hair.
"Mr Thomas?" Rees started, "you reported a strange sound."
"You don't look like police." The man looked at them suspiciously. "And what is all this about flowers?"
Then, their conversation was cut short as a long, eerie wail filled the air. It was high-pitched, and Blade shivered as he noticed how the farm-house's windows shook in reaction.
"That's it!" the farmer exclaimed.
Blade turned his head slowly, trying to pick the direction of the scream as it sobbed for long moments and then faded away. "What is out there?" he asked, pointing beyond the farm.
"That's the river. It's not much normally, but it can get nasty when rain or melted snow fills it."
"How far away?" Rees asked, concerned about getting help to a badly injured person.
"About half a mile, if you go straight across my paddock."
"Thank you, Mr Thomas," said Rees, "we'll take over now."
"Just be careful, son. That river can be treacherous." Then the farmer nodded to them and went back inside, meeting his wife as she waited for him at the door. Soon, the house was locked down against the elements, even the curtains being pulled as Blade and the others watched.
The shriek rose again, and made the three men shiver as they collected what they needed from their vehicle – waterproof torches, safety gear and Rees' medical kit – and followed the sound.
The wail rose and fell a number of times as it led them toward the far sounds of rushing water. Finally, the sound of water was almost as loud as that of the eerie shriek, and soon the three men could see the gleam of the river as it moved under the fitful moonlight.
They stood on the damp, snow-covered bank and stopped to listen. The wail was louder now, almost rattling the teeth in their heads, but there was no-one visible. The sound was like a wall around them, making it impossible to pick its direction.
"We're going to have to split up," Rees said. "Kermit, you go left, and Blade, you go right. That way I have an equal distance to get to you quickly if you find the culprit. Stay in contact at all times, and no closer to the bank than we are now. You fall in there and if you don't drown, the hypothermia will certainly finish you off."
Blade watched as Kermit began to walk carefully in the other direction then he nodded at the medic and headed on his assigned route. The way was slippery, and Blade took care to stay well back from the bank and its sheer slip into the dark, churning water of the river.
The wail pierced the air again and made Blade shiver. Something, deep in his psyche, warned him back, but he had a job to do.
The snow fell softly, making barely a sound against the shrill wail and the rushing of the water. The sky was dark despite the white falling, and only occasionally did the moon manage to break through the heavy clouds.
The wail reached a crescendo and then ended with a single sob. Blade stopped, waiting for the sound to pick up again, still unable to tell from which direction it had come. Then it picked up again, and Blade continued forward.
Coming around a small copse of trees, their branches denuded against the winter chill, Blade saw a figure on the other side of the swift-running stream. He swore, wondering how the hell they were going to rescue the stranded… he couldn't pick their wailer's sex from here.
Approaching the bank carefully, Blade peered across the water and then shook his head. He pulled out his binoculars and had a closer look.
The wailer was young, pretty, her long dark hair falling wetly over her shoulders and down over her breasts. She was dressed in what looked like a long white shift dress, little more than a nightie. Bloody hell, he thought, no wonder she was wailing. She'd have to be freezing!
"Hey, miss," Blade yelled as loud as he could across the rushing water.
The shriek rose again, her head lifting as her mouth opened. She didn't seem to see him, staring blindly across the river as if Blade wasn't even there.
"Rees, Kermit, I've found her. She seems unharmed but she's going to freeze to death at this rate."
"On my way," Kermit's voice sounded through the radio.
Blade waited for Lieutenant Rees to reply. Nothing. "Rees, come in please." Again, no sound. "Kermit, can you check on Rees on your way past him?"
"Will do, out."
The wail reached a crescendo again, and Blade knelt on the river bank opposite her, trying to place himself in her line of sight. She sobbed brokenly, wringing her wet hair with her hands.
"Come on, honey, look at me."
Her head rose at his voice, and her mouth opened again to release a long, thin shriek as her eyes locked on his. Holding his gaze, she slid sinuously into the rushing water, ignoring his yell for her to stop, and disappeared under the water.
"Rees, Kermit, she's gone in the water. I repeat, she's in the water. Captain Jacobs, Captain Ryan, come in please. Urgent, come in please!"
"Blade, we're on our way, what can we do to help?" Ryan's voice chimed in his ear.
"We need a boat. I can't see her, she has to have been swept downstream."
"Understood, will pass along to the local police. Stay put."
"Request permission to follow the bank downstream," asked Blade.
"No, repeat, no. Stay put. The police will find the body if she washes downstream."
"Sir," Blade interjected, "Rees is not answering."
"On it. We're approaching your Land Rover now. Stay put, will be with you in a few minutes."
Blade signed off and dropped back to his knees, lowering his head into his hands. Why the hell had she gone into the water? He dropped down on to his rump and let his head hang. There was nothing he could do now. There was no way the girl could have survived the river. She'd wash up downstream, probably in the spring. God, what a mess.
A small splash sounded in front of him, and Blade's head shot up. The splash came again, and he ventured forward carefully, making sure he didn't join the unfortunate girl in the depths of the river.
Something threw itself out of the murky water, almost up onto the bank in front of him. A white face loomed, all teeth and hair, and a piercing shriek almost drove him in to unconsciousness.
Blade used the last of his strength to throw himself backward, away from the apparition before him. She continued to scream, locking eye to eye, and then she began to slide backward, down into the water. And then she was gone.
His heart beating as if it was about to burst free of his chest, Blade rested his outflung body on his elbows. Then he scrambled backward desperately, terrified that whatever that thing was might come back for him.
"Blade!" Voices called behind him, away from the bank of the river, and he risked turning to look. Torches flashed through the dark and he could see running figures.
Soon, Ryan knelt behind him. "You look like you've seen a ghost, mate. What happened?"
"She was here!"
Cutter knelt beside him. "The girl? Where'd she go?"
Blade turned to Ryan earnestly. "She was here, boss. She came out of the water in front of me, then she went back in."
Ryan looked closely at him. "She came out of the water and got up the bank on her own?"
Blade nodded.
"Oh God," Stephen said, his voice awed.
They all looked up and followed the line of Stephen's gaze. There, across the swiftly-flowing river, a young woman pulled herself up effortlessly out of the rushing water, as if it had no hold on her.
She climbed up onto the river bank and turned to seat herself, wringing out her long, wet hair as she did so. Once she was settled to her satisfaction, she set to wailing again. Her mouth opened and a high-pitched scream let loose and carried out over the water to the men watching her.
Blade felt his captain's hands rest reassuringly on his shoulders as he tried to scramble backward.
"I think we have found our ghost," Ryan said.
"Bean shìdh, we call her in Scotland. The Irish call her bean sídhe," Cutter said quietly, never taking his eyes off the woman wailing on the other side of the water.
"What?"
Cutter turned and looked in Ryan's eyes. "Banshee."
Blade's radio crackled and he watched with only half his attention as Ryan lifted his hand to respond. His mind was fuzzy, his thoughts full of his gran's voice telling him to stay away from the washer woman - the washer at the ford - if he knew what was good for him. Her wail only brought death. And now the washer at the ford sat across from him, wailing her dirge. Someone was going to die.
"Stay with him, we're on our way," Ryan said, his brisk tone cutting through the mist in Blade's mind. "Come on, mate, up you get."
Ryan pulled Blade to his feet, Cutter taking his other arm. Blade looked up to see Cutter reach forward, tapping Stephen on the arm and making their tracker look at them. Stephen's eyes were huge, dark, and Blade shivered.
They got going, resolutely putting the wailing behind them. Blade shivered as the snow fell on his face, the touch icy against his heated skin. He felt like he was burning up inside, everything in him yelling to run and never stop. Ryan's hand was firm on his arm, as if his captain could read his thoughts. Blade could only be grateful that someone was still able to think clearly. All Blade knew was that everything his grandmother had told him, every warning, every caution, was true. He'd always known, somewhere deep inside, but had denied that knowledge as he had grown into a man, but now he remembered. It was all coming back.
Never trust the Fair Folk. The daoine sidhe were dangerous.
Mentally shaking himself, Blade fought for control. Soon, his breathing eased and the heat prickling his scalp, despite the cold, retreated. Ryan looked at him, and Blade nodded. He was fine. Ryan looked at him for along moment, then let go of his arm and stepped back. Blade smiled his gratitude, but said nothing.
He didn't realise how long he had been in a daze, but they'd covered much of the distance to where he and Kermit had left Rees. Blade frowned. He would see a single figure, kneeling on the hard, snow-covered ground, but something seemed wrong.
Where there had been smooth white, now there was a riot of colours. Blade gasped.
They picked up speed, and soon the group stood over Kermit as he knelt on the ground. He was surrounded by an array of wildflowers in all colours and hues, some barely clearing the frozen ground while others languidly brushed Kermit's face as he sat beside another form.
And there, sleeping peacefully in the centre of the wild garden, was Lieutenant Matt Rees.
The door to the guest-house was flung open as Ryan carefully brought the Land Rover to a halt in the treacherous conditions. Ditzy, the medic for Lyle's team, came running, Captain Jacobs not far behind him.
"You got here fast," Ryan muttered to his fellow captain as they carefully lifted the limp form of Rees between them.
"You broke my medic," answered Jacobs.
"I'm pretty sure the flowers broke Rees," Ryan said. "And doesn’t that sentence sound weird?"
Jacobs shook his head ruefully. "We've faced all sorts of big beasties and Rees gets taken out by a bunch of flowers."
"Could have been worse," Ryan said as Ditzy supervised Rees' transport into the guest-house and up to a first floor room. "Cutter says we've got a banshee."
Jacob's face was shocked, and even Ditzy looked up in surprise for a moment before going back to checking his patient's vitals.
"You're kidding." Jacobs stared at Ryan's serious face. "You're not kidding. Bloody hell."
"Our screamer crossed the water, scared the hell out of Blade, and then went back to her own side of the river and set up her caterwauling again. I saw it for myself."
"Anyone know what do to against a banshee?"
Ryan didn't have an answer for that, and was saved from having to say so by Ditzy, who covered Matt Rees with a duvet and turned to face the two captains.
"There are no obvious injuries and his stats are good. If I didn't know better, I'd just say he was asleep," Ditzy reported.
Captain Jacobs looked down at his team member. "Any idea of how long he's going to be like this?"
Ditzy shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. He's got eye movement, so I'd say he's in REM sleep. Expect him to be out for a while yet."
"But he's in no danger?" Jacobs asked.
"I don't think so, but I'm going to keep an eye on him."
Jacobs nodded. "All right. I'll be in the Op Centre. Let me know if his condition changes."
Ryan and Jacobs made their way silently down the stairs and into the large room that their techs had taken over. The camera feeds were displayed on the large screen, and Cutter and Stephen Hart were huddled together with Connor and Abby. The youngest team members' eyes were huge as Cutter explained what they were dealing with.
"A banshee?" Jenny Lewis said from behind the captains.
Ryan turned around to watch their PR expert enter the room. "That's what Cutter is saying."
"What about your opinion, Ryan?" she asked.
"I saw her pull herself up out of the raging river without any effort. And her scream could probably shatter glass. Didn't look or sound natural to me."
"So what does that make the flowers?"
Ryan shrugged. "I'm hoping Cutter has some ideas."
"Let's go see then, shall we?"
Jenny took a seat on the other side of the coffee table on which Connor had his laptop. Cutter looked up and smiled reassuringly at her, and then returned to his conversation with Connor and Abby.
"All right, lad, this speculation is all well and good, but what I think we need is a local expert," said Cutter.
Connor nodded enthusiastically even as Abby continued to look sceptical. Ryan knew how she felt. Even having seen this banshee of Cutter's, he was still having trouble wrapping his mind around the supernatural.
"Where are we going to find an expert on fairies at eight pm on Boxing Day?" Stephen asked.
Jenny leaned forward and joined the conversation. "Stephen has a good point, Nick."
"Maybe the local police know someone," Cutter said.
Everyone turned to look at Captain Jacobs, who had last been with the local constabulary. He shrugged and flicked the talk switch on his radio just as Maguire's voice came through.
"Captain Jacobs, come in please."
"Here, Maguire. Report."
"Ummmm… this is going to sound strange, but Mrs Kavanaugh, the Murchison's granny, insists we've got fairies."
Ryan and Jacobs looked at each other. Then Jacobs spoke into radio, "She knows about fairies, Maguire?"
"Says so. Says the flowers are from trooping fairies and everyone needs to get inside now. She's busy getting her son-in-law to nail up horseshoes over all the doors."
Ryan looked at Cutter, who grinned. Looks like they’d found their expert. "Maguire, this is Ryan. Can you bring Mrs Kavanaugh up to the guest-house?"
There was a momentary silence, and then Maguire continued. "She's not keen on venturing outside, sir."
"What can we do to protect her?"
There was silence again. "She says iron, sir."
"Will steel do?" Ryan asked.
"Apparently, yeah."
"How many knives do you and Anders have between you?"
Ryan could almost hear the penny drop at the other end of the radio. Not to mention, he was beginning to understand why the flowers had stopped when he had faced them.
"ETA in fifteen minutes, sir. Out."
The time quickly passed as Ryan watched Connor check the camera feeds. A discussion on where to place extra cameras was soon underway, as the academics tried to figure out how to better warn the local populace of danger.
Ryan was quickly coming to the opinion that Mrs Kavanaugh had had the right idea – stay inside while their unwelcome visitors were out and about. If the things didn't like iron, surely it wouldn't be too hard in this modern age to guard homes against them?
A nearby door closed, and Mrs Kavanaugh – a tiny woman with a blue rinse almost the colour of her eyes – bustled in with Mrs Carsten hard on her heels.
Both women stopped as they caught sight of the multiple camera feeds.
"Faerie portal," Mrs Kavanaugh whispered. "Holy Mary, Mother of God, they really are back," and she crossed herself.
Cutter was on his feet quickly, leading the old woman to a seat. Mrs Carsten left and was soon back with a tray laden with food and drink. She seemed ill-inclined to leave. Cutter looked at Ryan, shrugged, and seemed to simply accept the situation.
Ryan sighed. It didn't take a crystal ball to see where this was going, and Lester was not going to be happy if they had to get the whole village – including minors – to sign the Official Secrets Act.
"Mrs Kavanaugh," Cutter started. "You appear to know what we are dealing with here."
The old lady nodded, taking a moment to sip delicately from a tea cup. "Faerie, sir."
"Please call me Cutter," he smiled.
Mrs Kavanaugh returned his smile, then her gaze wandered back to the images on the display screen. "I've never seen a faerie portal before."
"We call them anomalies," Cutter replied. "They connect different times and places to our time. It seems that they've gone a little further afield this time."
Mrs Kavanaugh blinked. "You've dealt with the faerie before?"
"We've dealt with creatures a little more mundane than the faerie."
"Dinosaurs," Connor said, grinning.
Mrs Carsten and Mrs Kavanaugh turned to look at him, their faces shocked.
"Connor!' Stephen muttered.
"She knows about fairies," Connor said, grinning. "I'd say that trumps us knowing about dinosaurs."
Looking uncertainly around the room, Mrs Kavanaugh took another sip of her tea, as if to fortify herself, and then turned back to Cutter. "You seem to have everything well in hand, sir, with your technology and your soldiers. I'm certain there's nothing I could do to help."
"Mrs Kavanaugh, I assure you, we do need your help. Now, can you tell us what we need to do to protect the village?"
"I wouldn't mind knowing why Rees is unconscious," Jacobs added.
"Unconscious?" she asked.
"We found him, seemingly asleep, in a bed of those wildflowers," Cutter said.
"They tried to take him? Why didn't they take him?" Mrs Kavanaugh mused. Then she looked up at Cutter. "Is this young man handsome?"
Cutter nodded.
"There have been tales of young men and women being abducted by the faerie."
"I thought christening protected people?" Stephen asked.
Mrs Kavenaugh shook her head. "We have had faerie activity here up almost until modern times. The sidhe were here long before Christianity. The church would like to think that they are responsible for pushing the sidhe back beyond the veil, but in reality, it was cold iron."
Cutter appeared to think for a long moment. Then he shrugged. "Well, that explains why the flowers avoided Ryan, but not why they went after Lieutenant Rees."
"Your young man is a soldier?" she asked.
Cutter nodded.
"A young person needs to be bewitched in order to be taken by the faeries. Maybe, with so much iron on him, they were only able to bewitch him but not able to transport him? Iron is poison to them."
"It's as good a hypothesis as any," Cutter agreed.
"So what do we do now, Professor?" asked Ryan.
Cutter sighed and sat back in his own seat, cradling a coffee mug. "It's too early to tell for sure, but all indications point to the sidhe being nocturnal. If we can just keep everyone safe for the rest of tonight, then tomorrow we can plan properly."
"Implement a curfew," Stephen added, "unless travelling by car. Make sure each household knows where their members are before sundown."
"For how long, though?" asked Jenny. "We can't lock down a whole village every night for the foreseeable future."
Peering up at the anomaly as it twinkled in the light snowfall, Mrs Kavanaugh ventured a question of her own. "When did the faerie portal open?"
"Just after sundown yesterday," Cutter said.
The old woman frowned, deep in thought. Then she nodded to herself. "In all our folklore about faeries hereabouts, the most active time is during the twelve days of Christmas."
"But it opened yesterday," Abby said. "I thought the twelve days started on the 26th?"
Mrs Kavanaugh shook her head. "In earlier times, a day ended at sundown, so the twelve days of Christmas starts at sundown December 25th and ends sunrise January 6th."
"Twelve nights," Cutter said, "and we're less than halfway through night number two."
Ryan heard footsteps on the stairs leading to the upper floors and left the discussion in the Op Centre to its own devices. Stepping out into the vestibule, Ryan looked up to see their two medics, Ditzy and Rees, making their way down the stairs.
"How are you feeling, Lieutenant?"
"Embarrassed, sir," Rees said.
Ryan grinned and clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "You probably just needed your beauty sleep. Come on through and you can tell us what you remember."
Jacobs looked up as they returned to the room, his relief at seeing Rees on his feet fully evident.
Ditzy steered Rees to a seat and stood off to one side, keeping an eye on his patient.
"Matt," Jacobs said, looking closely at him. "Can you tell us what happened?"
Rees shrugged. "I was facing the river, keeping an ear on my radio, when suddenly I was completely surrounded by those flowers." He shuddered and Ditzy took a step forward before bringing himself to a stop.
Rees continued, "There were voices. I couldn't understand them, but there were whispers everywhere. Then I got sleepy. I tried to fight it, and tried to radio for help. I can't remember anything after that."
"How do you feel now, Matt?" asked Jacobs.
"Fine, sir, apart from a terminal case of embarrassment." Rees tried to smile, his mortification obvious.
Jacobs looked up at Ryan, who nodded and caught Cutter's eye. Leaving the group to Mrs Carsten's tender mercies, the three men moved off into the vestibule to talk in peace.
"So these things don't like iron," Jacobs said.
"Which makes the cars one of the safest places," added Cutter.
"As long as we don't get blizzard conditions and people start freezing to death trying to avoid being taken by fairies." Ryan couldn't quite believe he'd just said that. And he thought he'd seen everything when he'd encountered his first dinosaur.
"We should be able to secure most homes with iron and steel," Cutter said. "We just have to get word out that it isn't safe to wander around on foot after dark for the next week or so."
Jacobs nodded at that. "Lester isn't going to like it, but I say we call a village meeting tomorrow, show some of Temple's footage, and tell people how to protect themselves."
"Aye," Cutter said. "I'll let Jenny handle Lester." Cutter shook his head, utterly bemused. "We have a faerie incursion."
With that, Cutter turned and went back into the Ops Centre to get the beginnings of their plan underway.
Ryan and Jacobs looked at each other for a long moment. Then Jacobs smiled. "Fairies. What next? Vampires?"
January 5th opened clear and sunny, if chilly. The snow had ceased three days earlier, and the icy road conditions had eased a day later.
The ARC team and the village residents went about what had quickly settled into a routine. The community meeting had been short, to the point, and surprisingly, had included very few sceptics.
Soon, all the buildings in the area had sported any bits of iron and steel that could be foraged, and the younger inhabitants had started a new trend in steel jewellery, much of which had involved safety pins.
This had all added up to a relatively abduction-free Christmas-New Year break, with only the nightly floral processions and the wailing of their riverside guest to remind everyone that there were supernatural forces on the prowl.
That morning, as per usual, Mrs Carsten fed her guests in shifts, making breakfast a long, complicated affair, but it helped to pass the time. Lester had tried to recall some of the team, in particular Captain Jacobs and his men, but had been argued to a standstill by Cutter, who had a very, very bad feeling that Twelfth Night was quite possibly going to be spectacular.
The weather turned bad as the afternoon progressed, dark clouds building up overhead to hang threateningly over the small village and its surrounds.
Now, the evening closing in around the ARC team and its Special Forces support, everyone was in their places, ready for the start of Twelfth Night.
Amy Murchison sat huddled in the front seat of Adam Davis's car, knowing deep in her bones that this had been a bad idea. Not the going out after dark side of things – she'd listened attentively to the very nice looking soldiers when they'd said that the safest place to be, outside, was in a car – but that she was out after dark in this car.
Adam was an idiot. Amy had long suspected this, but now she had proof. Her concern rose with every downward drop of the petrol gauge. Peering out the window, she could see the lights of their little village, off in the distance. Amy crossed her fingers.
The car coughed and then finally slid to a halt under the heavy, night-time clouds.
Amy would have sworn if she had any assurance her words would not make their way back to her gran.
Adam tried the ignition key again, tapped the plastic covering the gauges, and then smiled at Amy with what she could only assume was completely false bravado.
"Well, we're nearly there. Ten minutes and I'll have you at your front door," Adam said as he opened the car door.
Amy just looked at him like she could see his IQ dropping with each breath. "I'm not getting out of this car."
"Come on, Ames, it's just over there!" he said, pointing vaguely in the direction of her home.
"The soldiers said stay in the car," Amy said in flat tones as she dug around in her bag for her mobile phone. That was the only way to deal with idiots, she was quickly coming to realise. "I'm phoning my dad to come get us."
Adam placed his hands on the door lining and leaned in. "And would you have taken as much notice of what they'd said if that soldier was bald with missing teeth?"
Amy stared at him. Definitely an idiot. Writing him off as totally useless boyfriend material, even if he did have a car – when it worked – she went back to rummaging for her phone. Her mum always said her bag was like a Tardis.
With a relieved chirp, she saw the blasted thing and pulled it out, just about to hit the Murchison family's number in speed dial, when she heard something. Whispers.
"Adam!" Amy looked frantically around the car, searching for the strange sounds. Along the side of the road, coming from the direction of the village, Amy could see a burst of colour coming up through the almost frozen ground. "Get in the car!"
It was too late. Amy threw herself against the passenger door, making sure it was locked and the window still up. Then she turned back to look at Adam. Her friend just stood there, his eyes gone large and dark as flowers of all shapes and colours bloomed around his ankles. Some touched the metal skin of the car and actually seemed to recoil.
"Adam!"
He turned to her, his eyes blank like deep pools, lit only by the small overhead light, and he reached inside the car toward her. Amy screamed, clutching the daisy-chain necklace she had made of safety pins, and Adam froze for a long moment. The two life-long friends were caught, Adam unable to go forward and Amy utterly terrified to move.
Then Adam took a step back, away from the car, leaving the door swinging open behind him. Turning away, he looked up at the darkened sky and then began to fall ever so slowly backward until the flowers caught and cushioned him.
The procession of flowers, all the while whispering, began to move again, carrying Adam just above the ground as they sped away. Soon Amy was alone.
"Daddy? Daddy! Come and get me," she sobbed into her phone.
The sky was beginning to burst open as the collection of ARC Land Rovers, police cars and civilian vehicles surrounded Adam Davis's abandoned car.
The driver's door hung open, the headlights still shining through the rain, and there, in the passenger seat, was a small white face.
Nick Cutter shivered. The car seemed too big for the girl, as if it was going to devour her at any moment. And then he remembered that it was most likely the car that had saved her from abduction.
Climbing out of the Land Rover with Stephen, noticing that Blade left the ignition running, the three walked slowly but steadily toward the car. The poor little mite looked terrified – no reason to scare her any further.
Then her dad rushed past them, coming to an abrupt halt as Blade caught his arm. "Not yet, sir."
Mr Murchison turned on the soldier, his face a mask of fear and anger, but Blade just shook his head and handed him over to Cutter.
"Something's been here, Murchison," said Cutter. "We're no help to Amy if we fall victim to whatever got young Adam. Amy is safest where she is for now."
Cutter, Stephen and Murchison watched as Blade, one of his namesake weapons in one hand, carefully approached the car, Amy's eyes following him all the while. Cutter didn't know if she was in shock, or if she was a sensible sort who had remembered their instructions. The fact that she was there, alone in the car, made him think that it was the latter.
"Amy, honey," Blade called out, "I'm coming in, okay?"
Amy nodded, pressing herself even more firmly against the passenger side as Blade approached the open driver's door.
The soldier stopped, looking down, and Cutter followed his gaze. Then Cutter looked closer.
"The car is surrounded by the flowers," said Stephen.
"Oh God," Mr Murchison said as they watched Blade take a step and have a good look at the bed of wildflowers that he was standing in.
"Cutter," Blade called back, "I can't hear anything strange." He leaned down, ran the blade of his knife along the petals of the flowers and then watched. Nothing moved.
"I think they're gone," Cutter yelled. "All we have is their handiwork."
Blade turned back to look at them. "Hart, open the back of our Rover. I'm going to carry her straight to it." Then, not waiting to see if his orders had been carried out, he slid into the driver's seat and pushed it back as far as it could go. Then he turned to face Amy.
"Amy, my name is Blade," he started to say.
Amy looked down at his knife and back up into his eyes.
Blade smiled, "Yeah, that sort of blade. Now, I’m going to pull out a smaller knife and strap it to your arm. Okay?"
Amy nodded, her eyes wide, one hand holding tight to a linked chain of safety pins like her life depended on it.
Blade had a horrible feeling that those safety pins were all that had saved her from her friend's fate, whatever that was. Pulling a small knife, along with its ankle sheath, from under his trousers, he set about strapping it securely to Amy's forearm.
"Okay, Amy. Now, I'm going to reach across you and unlock the door." Blade moved slowly and steadily, but even so, Amy flinched as his arm touched her shoulder in passing. "Done. Now I'm going to come around that side of the car and carry you over to that big Land Rover of ours."
Amy shook her head and started crying.
Cutter had to grab Murchison as he tried to go to his daughter again. Cutter could hear her crying from there, accompanied by Blade's low tones.
"Amy, honey, look at me," the soldier said. "They're gone, and anyway, they can't touch me." He tapped the large knife resting on his lap before sliding it into its own sheath, and Amy tried to smile through her tears.
Cutter watched as Blade slid out of the car, keeping eye contact with Amy for as long as possible. Then the soldier looked over at Stephen, where he stood beside the open back of the Land Rover, and then met Cutter's eyes.
Quickly, the soldier strode around to the other side of the car, always staying in Amy's line of sight, and then opened the door, catching her as she began to slip. He slid his arms under his knees and around her back and then stepped away from the car, only far enough to clear the open door.
Then Blade was running straight for the Land Rover, past Amy's distraught father, stopping beside Stephen as he placed the girl safely in a seat and strapped her in. Finally he closed the door behind her and locked it securely.
Cutter turned back to look at the abandoned car sitting in the rain, its lights still blazing, both front doors open.
One child safe – time to go find the other one.
The operations centre in the guest-house was buzzing with activity, the camera feeds taking pride of place on the big display screen as ARC personnel, soldiers and locals milled around.
The front door was flung open and Blade carried Amy inside, her father hot on their heels, setting her down on a loveseat for Rees to check over.
"Connor," Cutter asked, "any sign of the boy on the cameras?"
Connor shook his head, listening to a radio conversation as he did so. He held up one hand while he talked into the earpiece and then turned back to his mentor.
"Sorry, Cutter, he isn't at the anomaly. We're still getting reports from all our out-posted units, but nothing yet."
Blade stepped forward. "Are there any gaps in our grid?"
Connor pointed to a map spread out on the coffee table. "We could use a team near the anomaly, in case the fairies try to carry him through, and we're thin on the ground out near Hollyhock Farm."
Cutter watched Blade swallow and then nod decisively. "I'll take Hollyhock Farm."
"Not on your own, Blade," Rees said.
Cutter shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but it's too dangerous for you out there. You've been bewitched once, best not to risk it again."
Rees' face darkened for a moment and then he nodded.
"I'll go with Blade," said Stephen.
"Not without me, you don't!"
"Cutter, you're much more use here," Stephen replied.
"And you're much too pretty to be out there with only one soldier," Cutter grinned.
Blade looked from one to the other and then added his own grin. "Cutter's got you there, mate. So, are you both coming?"
They nodded and headed out for the Land Rover.
The floral procession meandered across the large, flat paddock, making leisurely curlicues in the cold earth as the flowers weaved and waltzed in time to the sounds of the river nearby.
The watcher at the ford crossed her waters to meet them, her wail a quieter, gentler timbre as she danced in amongst the flowers. Her song, to the accompaniment of tinkling whispers, carried across the paddock and to the closed and shuttered windows of Hollyhock Farm.
Mary Thomas timidly parted the curtains, looked out into the driving rain and could see faerie lights playing across her paddock. She shivered, pulled the curtains closed tightly behind her and went to phone Braithwaite Guest House.
The two Land Rovers pulled up at Hollyhock Farm in the heavy rain. Cutter shivered as he wound down the window and tried to peer outside. Beside him, Ryan pulled on his wet weather gear and got out of the car.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and Cutter turned around to meet Stephen's smile. Stephen handed over a waterproof coat and pulled on his own before sliding out of the back seat of the Rover and opening Cutter's door.
Across from them, Cutter saw Ditzy and Blade get out of the second Land Rover and approach them.
"Is the boy out there?" Cutter asked Ryan.
Ryan shrugged. "Mary Thomas couldn't tell. All she could say was that there was a lot of activity in that paddock."
"Nothing to it, then," Cutter said. "Let's go have a look."
"Make sure you are all protected," Ditzy warned as they began to walk, and Cutter watched as Ryan reached over and pulled up Stephen's sleeve, exposing a blade in its sheath.
"What about you, Cutter?" asked Ryan.
Cutter opened a few buttons on his shirt and exposed a chest harness with a large knife secured in it. Ryan turned to Blade and grinned.
"Not running out of knives are you, Blade?"
“No, boss."
"Good," Ryan said. "Let's go do this."
They walked across the muddy paddock, sometimes crossing the meandering trails of flowers as they went, until they could hear whispering and singing before them. Then, through the rain, they saw her dancing, her white dress trailing behind her as she whirled and twirled to the sound of her own song.
All around her, daffodils and bluebells cavorted, dancing around her bare feet. And carried on the procession of colour was the bewitched form of Adam Davis. His white face gleamed as the rain ran down it and a garland of flowers was hanging from his throat, trailing on the ground below him as he was transported.
"Blade, Ditz, head around them," Ryan ordered. "Stephen and Cutter, you stay with me. Let's see we can get them to drop Adam."
"Just as long as they don't drop him in the river," Stephen said, making Cutter shiver.
They spread out, trying to circle the dancing faeries and their wailing accompaniment, which was harder than Cutter had expected it to be. The flowers moved fast, turning on the head of a pin and whooshing off in the opposite direction if cornered.
Then the bean sidhe fled through them, making a break for the river, her wail rising to a crescendo as the trailing edge of her shroud wafted around Blade's feet, making him shudder in reaction.
Finally, the flowers stopped, the whispering stopped, and the men stood, drenched, their heads bowed with exhaustion as the rain cut a path down their faces and into any crack and opening in their clothing that could be found.
Ditzy stepped forward to check on Adam as Blade and Ryan took up watch. Stephen reached over and touched Cutter's arm to attract his attention. They turned to listen.
The wailer was back on her river, her dirge sharp like glass in the driving rain.
Cutter and Stephen, with unspoken agreement, began to follow the shrill sound as it filled the dark night until they could see as well as hear the rush of water. The river was swollen, the remnants of the past week's snow and the beginnings of that night's run-off filling it and creating dangerous rips and eddies in the muddy water.
They stopped as the bean sidhe came into sight, and stood opposite her as she looked up at them from her seat on the bank. Her mouth opened and a thin, shrill sound wafted across the water, sending shivers up their spines as the notes seemed to caress them with cold, wet fingers.
"Don't go too close to the edge," Blade warned, coming up behind them.
"How is Adam?" asked Cutter, never taking his eyes off the apparition across from them.
"Starting to come out of it."
"That fast?" asked Stephen.
Blade shrugged. "He wasn't wearing any iron. Probably didn't take as much to bewitch him as it did Rees."
Cutter grinned. "Amy said he was an idiot, so maybe that had an effect too."
Blade lifted a hand to his radio and listened for a moment, then he turned back to Cutter and Stephen. "Ditzy's ready to take Adam back to the guest-house."
Nodding, Cutter took one last look at the bean sidhe. There was nothing they could do about her. She had made no approaches, bar that one incident with Blade, and had done nothing more than wail her way through each night since her appearance. Cutter met her gaze, wondering what it was she saw, who she waited for, then shook himself out of his fanciful thoughts and headed off after Stephen and Blade.
Then a scream rent the air, only not from the river this time. His heart pounding, Cutter scanned the field for danger, but the boy was on him before Cutter knew what hit him.
Adam screamed again, his eyes wide and crazed as he ran from the blaze of colour that hunted him. Trails of flowers came from all directions, aimed at the boy, and Cutter could hear the frantic whispering long before the leading edge of the faerie procession reached him.
Then there was a dark flash in front of Cutter's eyes, and Blade was there, pulling Adam off of him and trying to restrain the boy's flailing arms. Ditzy came from another direction, grasping an outstretched arm as it collided with his black-clad chest.
But Adam was unstoppable, whether from fear or enchantment, Cutter didn't know. Stephen came up from behind, Ryan beside him, and Blade struggled to hold the boy still long enough for Ditzy to sedate him.
Blade wrapped his arms around Adam's torso from behind, ignoring the flurry of blooms that brushed against his legs and shied away from the metal hidden in various leg and ankle sheaths.
Adam wailed, almost drowning out the siren song of the bean sidhe, whose shriek seemed to be everywhere, pounding in Cutter's skull.
Struggling, Adam began to slide, taking Blade with him. Stephen yelled, seeing where their direction would take them, and Ditzy hurled himself bodily across the flower-strewn ground, grabbing Adam's right leg and holding on with all his might.
But now all three men slid, their path taking them toward the riverbank. All around them, flowers whispered and the bean sidhe's song sobbed, her wail reaching a crescendo as Ryan pulled out his own knife, plunged it into the hard ground and grabbed Ditzy's belt as the medic slid past him.
"No!" Ryan yelled as Stephen rushed to help him. "Keep behind me, no closer!"
Stephen ran, keeping low and avoiding the flowers that covered the ground all the way to the riverbank. Coming up behind Ryan, he grabbed the soldier's belt and began, slowly, to pull them all back from the edge.
Then Cutter shuddered. The bean sidhe was silent, and Cutter stopped his headlong rush to help Stephen bear the weight of the prostrate men and turned to face the river.
She sat, quiet, on her side of the river, her eyes blazing as she stared intently at one spot. Cutter followed her gaze and gasped. Blade hung out over the rushing water, only his legs on the riverbank. Adam was still held tight in his grasp, and the boy continued to struggle.
"God," Cutter gasped, "pull them in, now!"
Stephen and Ryan began to pull on Ditzy's legs, the weight of the two men hanging out over the river, sliding ever so slowly back on to solid ground.
Then flowers burst right up to the edge of the bank, brushing Adam's arms as he tried to pull himself back from the river, and the boy screamed and began to flail again. He and Blade began to slip, and in the background Cutter saw the bean sidhe slide into the water.
Blade's head touched the rushing water, and Adam screamed again as he was splashed. Cutter's heart threatened to stop as the two men slid further, Blade's head going under for a moment before he managed to lift it clear.
Then time seemed to freeze. Blade's gaze slid past him to meet his captain's. Ryan swore, his face a rictus of strain and anguish, and then he yelled as the boy's body suddenly lifted in the corner of Cutter's vision.
Cutter turned to see Ditzy pull Adam in, pinning him with his own body when the boy continued to struggle. Ryan pulled them further inland, his expression one of searing anger. Cutter looked beyond them.
Blade was nowhere to be seen.
This was her element, as close as she could hope to find in this world given over to the blood-metal poison. Through the brackish, rushing water she flowed, the water sliding along her pale cold skin as if it were the touch of a lover.
But there were darker things in the river than the water's cold touch, and she swam straight for the stink of cold iron, although its rank cloud in the water turned her stomach.
The mortal man sank like a stone, possessing nothing of her innate grace, twisting in the buffeting currents as he struggled to free himself from the heavy weight of his waterlogged clothes.
Soon they were face to face, bubbles escaping from the mortal's lips as he shrugged out of a heavy jacket and let it fall. But it wasn't enough. The current caught him, pushing him further downstream and knocking him under each time he tried to make for the surface.
With a simple flip of her bare feet, she was with him again, staring into his white face with its emerald eyes as he began to struggle and then to fade.
"Mortal," she whispered, her voice a low moan in the water.
"Mortal," she repeated. "Do you want to live?"
A hand reached for her, then stopped, uncertain.
"I cannot help you while you reek of blood-metal, mortal man."
Green eyes looked at her, his breath long gone, and then with one last effort he desperately stripped away blade after blade. From his arms, his legs, his torso and even his back, one by one they fell to the riverbed.
But it was too late. Emerald eyes closed before her, his body going limp in the raging current that began to pull him away from her.
He was hers: hers to mourn or hers to save, and she would not let the river have him. Darting forward, she wrapped long, thin arms around his limp body, driving him upward and free of the water.
The riverbank was nearby and she strove for it, the beat in the mortal warrior's chest sounding only softly against her own.
Mortal arms reached out, rank with the smell of blood-metal, and she almost recoiled, taking her prize with her. But he was limp in her arms, his eyelids pale and blue-limned from cold and lack of air.
She pulled herself up onto the bank with one arm, her prize secure in the other, her voice a low moan that echoed the tumble of the waters beneath her. Looking up, she faced mortal after mortal, each tainted with the stink of blood-metal and all of them reaching for her prize.
Setting him down, she moved back, sliding effortlessly into the water where she watched the mortal men work to save their own. One, his own eyes a cheerful brown, shared breath until her prize coughed and started to breathe again.
Soon, her prize was sitting up, his green eyes dimmed but still shining as he met her gaze. Behind the mortals, dancing to their own music, her little friends watched, knowing that this time there would be no playmates.
Falling back into the depth, her song sung, her task done, the bean sidhe knew it was time to go home.
Word of what had happened at the river soon spread. Teenagers, hearing what had almost happened to Adam Davis, all decided that maybe it was time for an early night. Within an hour, the streets of Ironbridge were abandoned, the houses securely locked up with even more iron making its appearance over door lintels and window sashes.
Now, as the countdown to sunrise continued, the field hosting the anomaly was full of vehicles. It was a strange sight, first the anomaly, glittering in the predawn stillness, then a wide circle of cameras on their stakes, and then an even wider array of Land Rovers, cars and a police vehicle – all making up a three-quarter outer circle.
And off to one side was a corridor, set aside to allow their visitors to make it to the anomaly and home, without coming into contact with what Blade had called blood-metal.
Bird song took up a chorus as light began to penetrate the morning mist, and then stranger voices sounded.
Looking through the Land Rover's side mirror, Cutter could see a carpet of flowers coming toward them at great speed, the riotous display weaving and cavorting in the pale predawn light. Behind the flowers flowed a wisp of white material, barely visible, seemingly carried on the low breeze.
The playful procession meandered past the camera spikes, keeping its distance as it broke into four distinct trails, dancing in circles and curlicues, first around the floating wisp and then the anomaly itself.
Then the wisp of white began to dance and twirl until a long, lean form swayed there, her hair dark and wet as it fell down her slim body. Her dance was silent, no sign of her wailing dirge to be heard.
She stopped, looked around the vehicles parked there and then gestured toward the second Land Rover, her bow both graceful and regal.
"She saved his life," Ryan said quietly.
Cutter nodded. "I always thought that they were bad luck, harbingers of death, but she saved him."
Stephen leaned forward between the Land Rover seats. "Maybe her song was just a warning."
"Perhaps," Ryan agreed. "All I know is that I have a man who is alive now, because of her."
Then all conversation stilled as they stared out the windscreen toward the anomaly. The flowers had reached the jagged shards of light and, silhouetted against the anomaly, figures began to appear.
They were small, some grotesque with misshapen heads and huge feet, others small and dainty with dragonfly wings. One, almost the size of a small child, was hairy, his shaggy pelt covering him from head to toe.
One by one, each bowed first to the bean sidhe and then the assembled mortals, and then danced through the anomaly. Until only the bean sidhe was left. Turning to the humans watching her, she opened her mouth, let free one, pure tone and then turned and stepped through the anomaly, leaving only the faint echo of her song behind her.
Then, as the first light caught the shards of the anomaly, it twinkled once and then closed.
Cutter sat back and sighed with relief.
Twelve days.
Twelve days of danger and enchantment, but now it was over. Although he couldn't help but hope that, one day, he might meet the faerie again.
The End.
In England there are signs that supernatural visitors were formerly looked for during the Twelve Days … Though I know of no distinct English belief in the return or the family dead at Christmas, it may be that the fairies expected in Shropshire were originally ancestral ghosts. Such a derivation of the elves and brownies that haunt the hearth is very probable.
Excerpted from Christmas in Ritual and Tradition, Christian and Pagan, by Clement A. Miles, London: T. Fisher Unwin, 2nd Ed. 1913, p.
229
Final note: I've taken horrible liberties by having Twelth Night end on the morning of January 6th and with the size of Ironbridge, Shropshire. Considering the story, the name was perfect. The real village has over 2000 residents. My version only has a couple of hundred. *g*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-25 10:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-26 06:51 am (UTC)And I had a lot of fun with the OCs in this! Mrs Carsten and her minions were fun to write, but I have a huge soft spot for Amy.