Chapter Five
It feels like Jello, or more to the point, like walking through Jello. My hands, my feet, my eyes, my mind, none of it exists anymore. I'm nothing but air and moisture, moving so quickly I can't tell what direction we're headed. If there are sounds, I don't hear them. Everything around me shimmers with sparkling light. The trees and greenery below me look like never before, each leaf, each branch, each endless clover field jumps to life. I'm looking at the world, and it's like it's looking back at me.
I can't tell how much time has passed when its’ over, but it couldn’t have been long, maybe seconds. As we drop, I feel myself solidifying. My feet plant firmly into the ground, heels pressed against rocks. I look over at the girl. She's coming together too. With one glance, it's clear I was mistaken in the alley. She didn't come out of the mist. She was the mist. Her body exists as little more than a shaped mound of moist gas. I lunge back, tripping over rocks. She becomes herself. Her skin and hair regain its color. I stare, motionless as a corpse.
"It can be a little disconcerting the first time," she says, as though she were talking about riding the subway, or drinking a slurpee too fast.
"What happened?" I say, as I take in our new surroundings.
We're standing at the edge of a cliff. The sea thrashes loudly against stones hundreds of feet below us. Ahead, well past the beach that meets the cliff's end, a long field full of the greenest grass I have ever seen rolls out before us. At its end, glistening against the clouded sky as if lit by some unnatural light, sits a castle.
It looks like a giant version of my grandmother’s house, its’ walls, striped in pewter plating, are more expansive than anything I've ever seen. It looks like a dream, one that I'm pulled out of by the girl's answer.
"You almost got your soul sucked out by a banshee. I saved you," she says and begins to walk toward the massive building in the distance. "You're welcome."
"What?" I ask, catching up with her even though my legs still feel like jelly. "A banshee?"
“Yeah, A death walker," she says, as though it's going to clarify things. "It sensed your grandfather's passing and came to feed on the energy."
"So you turned me into smoke?" The words feel strange passing my tongue.
"Don't give me too much credit," she smiled. "You did that yourself, didn't take much prodding either. You have decent instincts for a newbie."
More confused than I even thought possible, I hear a shout in the distance.
"Ash!" The boy walks toward us. His close cut blond hair shines against the castles backlight.
"Ash?" I ask. This is the first time I've ever thought about the girl's name.
"Aisley," she clarifies. "Darrin calls me Ash."
Darrin, the gloved one from the alley, smiles ear to ear as we meet. I notice the final member of their trio, the dark skinned boy, walking behind him, his gaze planted on me. I'm immediately taken back to the night in the alley, with those three working like a well-oiled machine to take down that creature. They were quick, efficient, and most of all dangerous, a fact that now settles at the front of my mind with stark clarity.
"So, this is Bell Watkins? I imagined he'd be taller," Darrin says.
"Anthony," I clarify, self-consciously straightening my stance.
"Yeah," he snickers. “Sure you are. Now let's get this all sorted out shall we?"
Suddenly, his snazzy golden glove makes a repeat appearance, materializing on his hand. I rear back as he holds it out over me, but Aisley grabs my shoulders, holding me in place. I struggle as a bright red light scans my face.
"It's him," Darrin says. The lights disappear and the glove retracts. "Sorry Ash...”
"Wait!" I shout, pulling away. "What is going on?"
"You haven't told him?" The dark-skinned boys asks. His odd accent is thick and makes him hard to understand.
"He didn't give me a chance, was too busy almost getting himself killed." Aisley defends.
"Keeping up the family tradition?” Darrin injects, a wicked smile painted on his face.
"You're special," the stoic boy says, breaking through Darrin's looseness with a down to business fervor. "You're a child of Danu, a protector of Earth, imbued with--"
“Danu, as in the goddess of Earth?” I interrupt, pulling a memory from the cobwebs of my mind. My grandfather, on his porch chair telling me about Ireland, about the fairies, the magic, and all that nonsense.
"And the greatest of all," he'd say. "Is Danu. It's her grounds we walk on lad. It’s her mercy that yields our harvest. We're her children Bell. You're of her own heart."
"Close," says the odd accent, plowing back into his explanation. "The scrolls say she is the goddess, but in reality, Danu is Earth itself. The ground, the sky, fire, water, all of it is her. And we're her people."
"This is insane," I say, shaking my head.
"Bell, you just escaped a banshee by turning your body into smoke. How much more proof is going to be necessary?" Darrin asks. "You're one of us. Back in the day, Danu-"
"I remember," I say. "She created people to watch over the world, to keep it safe. They were demi-gods?" I ask, unsure about that part.
"We used to be," Aisley chimes in. "But the blood got mixed with mortals. So we're less than we were, still powerful, but not immortal anymore."
"And that's how you turned into mist," I say.
"That's how we turned into mist. It's a birthright Bell, passed on to you through generations. It's who you are."
"Mistrunner," I say, and see Aisley wince from the corner of my eye.
She leans into me and whispers. "Mistrunner isn't the most pc term in the world.”
“We prefer Child or Tuatha of Danu," the dark skinned man says matter-of-factly.
"Oh, sorry. So I'm Tuatha?"
"He catches on quick, this one. No wonder Liam picked him," Darrin says sarcastically and then shoots a look to Aisley.
"Picked?" I ask
"Let's get going," Aisley says sharply and starts toward the castle in the distance.
"Don't mind her. It takes her a while to warm up. I'm Darrin, this is Abram." Darrin points to the other one. "I know this is probably a lot to handle, but trust me it does get easier."
I just stare at him, too floored to make any judgment of what is and isn't easy.
"Where are we?" Is all I can force out.
"We're at the Castle of the North," Darrin says.
"Why? I continue.
"Well," he says, his grin widening. "Because it’s yours."
Approaching the castle I notice its even larger than I thought. The surrounding wall, a mountain of stone, stretches so high into the sky that I wonder how it was even built. The stones meet without break, as if it’s all one continuous structure. The massive wooden doors part as we approach. As they separate, they make no grinding or moving noises at all.
It's as though Asgard has been brought down to Earth and laid out before me. I keep expecting Thor to round the corner and greet me. Turns out the light I saw glowing in the distance is a product of the interior streets which, like the castle walls, are trimmed in brushed, brilliant pewter. A city exists within the walls of this place complete with living quarters laced with plants and shrubbery, empty carts that sit abandoned on the streets, and shops and homes with their doors shut tight.
At the end of the area, where all roads seem to lead, sits the castle. It’s hard to describe, but it literally looks like my grandmother’s house got together with a massive castle and had a baby. It’s bigger, more elaborate and surrounded by its own city, but it still looks like the house.
"This isn't mine."
"It is now," Darrin says. "Consider it your inheritance. What, did you think all your grandfather left you was the necklace?"
"How did you-"
"It's your token as a High King. All of us have one," he says, wiggling his fingers and bringing back into existence the golden glove that, I now see, stretches up at least half of his arm. "Well, all the High Kings anyway."<
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"A High King?" At this point, I realize just how sick of asking questions I've become.
"There are hundreds of Danu's children in the world. Every one of us does our part to keep this world safe. But there are always four that are appointed to take charge of things and sanction the actions of the rest. The world is split up into quarters with one king to each piece. The North, the South, the East and the West, they all have kings. One king reigns for as long as he can and when he dies, he chooses his replacement. Your grandfather was a High King, and when he died-"
"He picked me?" I ask, scrunching my brow.
"You're not the only one who was surprised," Aisley snaps.
“Come on," Darrin says, picking up his pace. "There are things we have to do."
He gallops toward the castle as I yell out. "Where are we going?"
"To the throne room your Majesty," Aisley says dryly and continues after him.
I'm gasping as I catch up with them and enter the enormous castle doors. It's nothing but a long corridor as we enter, a bit of a disappointment considering how lavish the outside was.
“How come I’ve never seen pictures of this place, you’d think someone would have noticed this massive castle.” I ask genuinely curious.
“It’s shrouded Bell, only Danu’s children can see it.” Aisley snaps.
"This is..." I trail off.
"Not why we're here," She says, pulling on a lever beside the door.
The floor shifts and opens up, revealing a staircase that stretches at least two hundred feet. The stone steps are ancient and feel as though they might crumble beneath me as I follow the Mistrunners down. Statues line the walls, tall goblin looking structures with sharp points and gruesome features. Lanterns sit in their mouths and light our way.
We reach the end of the staircase and funnel into a small room. Books cover every inch of wall space, and also sit messily atop every table, counter, and chair in the room.
"Old man, we're here," Darrin shouts as soon as we're inside.
A muffled clatter comes from behind one of the room's corners.
"And he's with us."
"Excellent!" I hear, also from around the corner, as the sound of thumping and sloshing closes in.
I'm about to ask Darrin who he's speaking to when the man comes into view. It's not the face of a stranger, not at all. I gasp and lunge back, because standing before me, in this castle of confusion, is my dead grandfather.