“I think you’re a fairy tale. I think you’re magical, and brave, and exquisite.
And I hope you'll let me be in your story.”
Laini Taylor
Angus Morgan cursed as he was forced to downshift the SUV yet again and wondered how he'd gotten himself into this mess. Of course he knew the answer to that. All his “baby” sister by a mere twelve minutes, Angie, had to do was ask and he'd move mountains for her. In this instance, it was an invitation to come visit for the weekend and help them celebrate their gender reveal party. Would the twins be identical or fraternal, as they were? Would they be girls, boys, or one of each? Inquiring minds were dying to know!
And if the weather got much worse his own inquiring mind could well be the death of him.
But he wouldn't have begged off even if he'd wanted to. The anticipation of being an uncle filled him with so much joy that he took every opportunity to return home to upper east Tennessee from Albuquerque, to visit with his sister and brother-in-law, Bob, as they awaited the births of the newest set of twins to be born into the family.
He'd driven this mountain road most of his life before leaving for college, yet somehow he'd inexplicably managed to take a wrong turn at some point. Given that it was nearly midnight and how bad the weather was, however, it wouldn't have been impossible to do. Even for someone who grew up in these mountains. The remnants of a late season hurricane that had ravaged parts of the Caribbean and Gulf Coast had settled over the southern Appalachians as a strong low pressure system and weren't in any hurry to move on. As a result, the torrential rain made visibility worse than bad and the roads were nearly impassible. The frequent flashes of lightening continually blinded him for a few moments so that he had to slow down still more each time.
He cursed and downshifted yet again.
And the road was getting more impassible by the minute.
“I should have just taken a room at a motel and stayed in town until daybreak,” he grumbled, “Or stayed in Albuquerque where I belong.”
The SUV slipped and slid, sometimes pitching sideways toward the perilous edge of the asphalt, as it made its way up the steep mountain, its tires spinning frequently in the mud and water that were running downhill. It was almost as if the road had never been paved.
Finally he reached the top, downshifted a final time into low gear, and slowly began to make his way down the other side, where the going became even worse. Gritting his teeth, Angus muscled and finessed his way down the steep switchbacks, determinedly ignoring the hard knot of apprehension that had taken up residence in his gut. He had a really bad feeling about this.
Suddenly there was a brilliant flash as a bolt of lightening exploded a tree just ahead. Sparks, bark, and pieces of wood large and small erupted as thunder cracked directly overhead, the sound deafening, and Angus felt the concussion as he fought to avoid the arboreal carnage. The SUV began to slide sideways as he hit the brakes, then spun out of control, the momentum carrying it downhill, off the road, and into the forest where it crashed violently into a massive oak. The steering wheel slammed into his chest even as his head smashed the windshield, sending a crazed crack across the glass. Angus had often said that if anyone was to go back through time and record the final words of everyone who had ever died they would all have been some form of one word. The word he uttered now just before passing out.
“Shit!”
Later he wondered whether he dreamed of being removed from the fragmented remains of the car by a small hooded figure. He hadn't felt hands lifting him. He'd simply floated free of the wreckage. There was no pain even though blood poured from numerous cuts, stinging his eyes as the tastes of salt and iron filled his mouth. He'd tried to speak before succumbing to the darkness once more. His last thought was of how beautifully blue the figure's eyes were as they stared into his from a cruelly disfigured face.
Angus floated between life and death for nearly two weeks in a medically induced coma as his brain slowly returned to its normal size. To those who visited him he remained unresponsive, though most spoke to him as if he could hear them, and his sister insisted on playing music he had stored on his phone. For the most part, Angus wasn't aware of them. His awareness centered around the small hooded figure of a woman who hovered near, offering him comfort and encouragement. Assuring him that his time was not over, that he was still needed in the living world. Occasionally she would reach out to him and soothingly touch him, though he couldn't say how for he never saw her hands. Only the sleeves of her robe, and brilliant blue eyes that seemed to glow from the within the hood.
“Who are you?” he asked her.
“I am Minerva.”
“What are you?”
“A shade of who I once was.”
In his comatose state, half way between life and death, he didn't question her answer, as strange as it was.
“Why are you here?”
“To see you don't leave.”
“Leave where?”
“Life.”
“Why should you care?”
“I care.”
“Why?”
“Because I must.”
“Why?” he asked again and thought he heard her sigh.
“Love binds us, my Angus. It always has. It always will.”
“How?”
“It is not for us to understand. Only that it does,”
“Are you dead?”
“For now.”
“That's a strange answer.”
He thought he saw her smile.
“It's a strange place.”
“Are you real?”
“A question you might have asked me first. But, yes, I am real.”
“You saved me.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
Silence surrounded them though her presence remained, and time passed. Eventually, he felt the darkness begin to recede and he panicked. His sister and brother-in-law were the first to hear his mumbled words.
“Don't go!”
“We're here, Angus,” Angie murmured, tears filling her eyes with relieved joy, “We're here.”
“No,” his head slowly rocked from side to side, “Minerva, come back!”
“I am always here,” he heard her whisper from beyond the light as again the soothing touch was felt.
Angie and her husband, Bob, glanced at each other in concern then looked to the doctor, a bespectacled older man with a commanding air, who had just entered the room.
“Is he hallucinating, Doctor Johnson?” she asked him.
“Yes,” he replied, “It isn't unusual when they first emerge.”
“Minerva?” Angus' eyes opened briefly then closed against the brilliance of the light. “Turn down the goddamned light!”
His voice was weak and raspy, a relic of the intubation tube that had been removed the day before, but perfectly understandable. Angie and Bob laughed while the doctor merely grinned and did as he was told.
“That's a good sign. Angus? Can you hear me?”
“Of course I can hear you! I'm not deaf.”
“Of course not. How are you feeling?”
Angus considered the question for a moment.
“My head hurts like hell,” he tried to take a breath and groaned, “and it hurts to breathe.”
“You've suffered a severe head injury and you have broken ribs. Do you remember what happened?”
Angus' brow furrowed.
“Car wreck, I think.”
Doctor Johnson nodded.
“Yes, that's correct.” He glanced at the couple standing on the other side of the bed. “It's good that he remembers. That means the damage wasn't as bad as we'd feared.”
“Where am I?”
“In the University of Tennessee Medical Center. You were airlifted here after the accident.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Nearly two weeks,” Angie answered and tenderly ran a hand along his arm back and forth. “We've been so worried.”
“Where's Minerva?”
“Minerva?”
“She was just here.”
The doctor and couple glanced at one another.
“There hasn't been anyone in here but us and the staff,” his sister told him carefully, “and none of them were named Minerva.”
Angus sighed.
“So she wasn't really here.”
“I am always here.”
There was no mistaking the voice and Angus relaxed, his eyes closing as a relieved smile curved his lips.
“Yes, you are.”
“We are what?”
Angie's tone reflected their confused expressions.
“It doesn't matter,” he whispered.
And fell asleep.
Several weeks passed. Angus was released from the hospital a few days after awakening from the coma and taken home to recover under the watchful eye of Angie and Bob. The headaches gradually dissipated and his ribs healed, and though he was outwardly returning to normal, his mind rarely wandered far from the wraith that had been with him in his coma.
On the day the doctor cleared him to return to work, Angus found himself reluctant to go home to Albuquerque. Instead, he insisted that he be taken to the site of the accident. The remains of the car had been removed but evidence of the wreck remained in the damaged trees, and the ruts left by the tires in the rain-softened earth. Angie and Bob watched as he walked into the woods, pausing by the tree that had stopped his car.
“Minerva?” he called softly, careful that he not be overheard, “Are you here?”
For a moment there was only the sound of breezes rattling through the last fall leaves. Then, just as softly came her voice.
“Yes, Angus, I'm here.”
His eyes closed as he smiled.
“I've missed you,” he told her, “Where have you been?”
“Here. Waiting on you.”
“Are you always here?”
“Yes.”
“Will you come with me when I leave.”
She was silent for a moment.
“I cannot leave.”
“Why not?”
“I must remain here until the secret is revealed.”
He frowned.
“What secret?”
“Of why I am and why I'm here.”
His frown deepened.
“I don't understand.”
“You are the only one who can do this, Angus. You are my sole hope.”
“But how?”
“Angus?” Angie's voice carried worriedly to his ears, “Who are you talking to?”
“Help me, my love,” Minerva's voice plea faded on the breeze, a last soft touch upon his face.
Turning, he approached the couple waiting beside the mini van.
“No one,” he lied, “I was just thinking out loud.”
Reluctantly, Angus returned to Albuquerque and resumed his work as an athletic psychologist helping athletes to hone the competitive mindsets that would make them champions in their fields. But his own mind continued to reverberate with Minerva's plea for help. How could he help when he had nowhere to start?
Finally he decided that first he needed to find out if she ever actually existed. So early in the summer he returned to Tennessee and immersed himself in the local lore and legends. Eventually, while reading through an old book found in the archives of the library, he stumbled across the legend of a young woman named Minerva Maguire who had gone missing in the mid-1800s. It was said she had loved a young man from a neighboring town and they had planned to marry when he became established in his trade. But the young man had another, very jealous, suitor. A witch-woman many feared for her wicked ways who had decided no other would have him. She had changed her appearance to that of a buxom young maid, far removed from her real appearance, and tried hard to attract his attention using every means she possessed. But the young man would have none of her. His heart, eyes, and soul were set only on his Minerva. Finally, in a fit of rage, the witch-woman had viciously marred the young woman's face with a red iron pike then forced her to watch as she killed the young man by way of a large snake. Afterward, Minerva was never seen again. Some believed her broken heart had caused her to walk away into the woods and take her own life. Others, however, believed she had been cursed by the witch-woman to wander the woodland where she and her love had so spent so much of their time together, forever doomed to exist without him. Unless he found his way back from death to release her.
A chill chased down Angus' back as he closed the book. She had found him and he had found his way back from death. Could the legend be true ? Had he been sent to rescue her?
He continued to search through the archives of the library and local newspapers, looking for any further information that might be of benefit. Then one day he felt drawn into an antiquarian bookstore. The woman who greeted him seemed ancient, her voice harsh with age, but her eyes were strangely youthful.
“Can I help you, young man?”
“I'm not certain. I'm searching for information on an old legend.”
“You've come in search of Minerva Maguire.”
Angus' head jerked backward as he blinked in surprise.
“Well, yes, but how...”
“I've been expecting you, Angus Morgan.”
“You have?”
“For many years,” she crooked a finger deformed by arthritis, “Come with me.”
Feeling as if he'd just fallen down a rabbit hole, he followed her through a curtained doorway to a small room filled with layers of dust and old tomes.
“The answer you seek is here.”
He looked at the stacks of books.
“Where?”
The old woman cackled.
“Seek and ye shall find.”
And she left him alone.
“I am here, my love.”
Minerva's gentle voice carried through his confused mind. Closing his eyes, he nodded, then picked up the first book.
Hours passed. There were journals, business logs, handwritten books of recipes, even penny dreadfuls, but nothing that provided whatever it was he was blindly seeking. Until he lifted an ancient text with odd markings on the cover. And somehow he knew the answers he sought laid within.
Slowly he opened the cover then began turning pages. It didn't take him long to surmise that what he was looking at was a book of spells. There were spells for good and spells for evil. Some promised a bountiful harvest while others brought drought. There were recipes for potions and small talismans known as poppets, as well as treatments and cures for a range of afflictions. And there were instructions for destroying a rival.
Sweat broke on his brow as he read, “Bind the bitch with ivy, only leaves of three, then mar her beauty with fiery tree and make her hideous to see. Stop their love by stopping his life, divide them forever, pay the devil his price. Take back the price to restore their love. Only love can save their love.”
Closing the book, he stared down at the ancient cover with its strange markings and felt anger burn within him. Had this really happened? Had Minerva suffered so? Somehow, he knew she had.
Rising to his feet, he looked about him and realized how dark it had grown. Only the light from a single low wattage bulb allowed him to see the room about him and he shivered before lifting the curtain to return to the front room, taking the book with him.
There was no sign of the ancient woman, and as he stood there, the room seemed to fade, it's contents disappearing until only rotten beams and flooring remained. Turning, he saw the doorway he had just walked through was blocked by a fallen roof. And when he looked down, the book of spells crumbled through his fingers.
Cursing beneath his breath, he immediately left the darkness of the shop and drove away into bright sunlight, not noticing that the building itself disappeared in his wake.
On the way back to Angie's house, he stopped once again at the site of the accident and got out. The woods were peaceful with birds singing their songs and a squirrel scolding him for disturbing its foraging. Walking among the trees, it seemed he felt the presence of the young woman who had been doomed to wander the woods alone.
“Minerva? What did it mean about taking back the devil's price?”
But there was no answer. Instead, he found himself looking about as if sensing the air for his answer. Somewhere in these woods, he knew, was that answer. So he began again to walk, at first aimlessly then more surely. He walked deep into the woods until he reached a small creek nearly choked with dead leaves from the past winter. An ancient, diseased oak stood beside it, its branches gnarled and twisted with age. At its base was a gaping hole that seemed to seethe with malevolence.
Angus didn't hesitate before he plunged his hand into the hole and began searching. Finally, his fingers grasped something small and delicate. Withdrawing, he started brushing the dirt and debris of ages from it and found himself holding a woman's ring. A simple gold band mounted with a single simple moonstone.
Suddenly there was a gust of rancid wind followed by a hateful scream. Then all was quiet. The breeze returned, along with the birdsong and scolding squirrels, and the little creek flowed more freely with freshened water. Angus rinsed the ring off then rose to his feet and looked around him.
“Minerva?” he called, “I've found it! I've retaken the devil's price!”
But there was no response. He waited and called out once more before he realized that there would be no answer. The spell was broken. Minerva and her lover were together once more.
Taking the ring with him, he slowly made his way back to his car with a heavy heart.
The next day he left Angie and Bob outside security at the airport and made his way toward the gate where his flight awaited. As he waited to board, a smiling young woman approached him.
“Are you by chance headed for Albuquerque?”
“Yes,” Angus answered, baffled. This wasn't a direct flight. How had she known?
The woman's smile grew wider.
“My name is Minerva, my love. I believe you have something that once belonged to me.”
Since I am an identical twin and my younger brothers are fraternal, I thought the story would be about twins. I even had thoughts about if identical twins were trans, with they tend to live in the same sexual identity direction?
But as I read, I realized that you were writing about a kindred spirit from another time that was trapped in a spell. The only thing I didn't understand was with the rod was hot like a branding iron or not I have caused the scarring.
But along with the spell, I guess the scarring went away as well with that delightful ending.
Destiny's Journey, judged Best Western in the Easychair Bookshop competition.
Family deception kept Jennifer O’Malley from marrying her first love ten years ago, West Point officer, Glen Herrington. Now a Civil War widow, she leaves war-torn Richmo
