The Draoi

Part 6

Mark headed back to his car and grabbed his box of Honey Nut Cheerios to munch on as he contemplated what had happened. He had found the Draoi, and had even been given a gift, no, two gifts! With another one in the works! Which reminded him of the potion he had taken a sip of while on the way from the forest. The American leaned back in his seat, wondering how the warlock could be so kind. He wondered if it had anything to do with how the Draoi had looked at him when he first showed up. Leaning against the doorway in exhaustion, the man had looked surprised, cheeks even brightening a tad. Mark shook the thought away, perhaps the Draoi had been surprised at the state of Mark himself, after all, a 2 hour walk in the woods doesn't mean you look fantastic.

"Mister... Hey mister!" A sharp knock rapped against his window, startling Mark out of his thoughts.

Sitting up, Mark looked out to see an older woman staring at him and his boxes of supplies. He rolled down the window a bit.

"Hello, can I help you?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Your car is parked in my parking lot. I don't take kindly to the homeless thinking they can stay here all night without paying." She gestured to the building behind her.

Mark peered around her shoulder to see a small, homey looking Bed and Breakfast.

"You either get a room, or you get out." She said.

Mark opened his wallet and gulped. He didn't have much left in the ways of money.

"How much is a room for the night?" He asked weakly.

The woman leaned forward to take a peek into his wallet and her eyes softened. "You seem like a strong young man. If you give me $5 and help me out, I'll let you stay." Her gaze wandered to his stockpile of dried food and the garbage bag of his clothes.

Mark smiled gratefully and opened the door, taking out his $5 to hand to her. She took it and gripped his shoulder, leading him inside.

"You can stay in one of the smaller rooms, and you can leave your car in the parking lot. But first, I need some help with this lightswitch that just won't turn on. Let me show you."

--

Jack watched as the sun sank lower and lower beneath the treeline, sighing. He sat by the small wooden chute that was his transport system. Having prepared the rest of the potion, he began to bite at his fingernails in wait. The past hour had been a rollercoaster of emotion, one filled with his own self doubts at his idea. The idea that he would stoop so low as to use a love potion sickened him but at the same time he imagined he would regret the rest of his existence if he didn't say something to Mark. At least a half hour had been spent on this dilemma, including 8 minutes all together of hair pulling. Jack's leg began to jitter, as it did when he was nervous, until he heard that clanking noise that meant the arrival of his answer. He opened the small hatch and pulled out a glass vial containing an aged fairie with it's wings wrapped tightly around its body. Carefully, Jack popped open the lid and slid the corpse into the palm of his hand.

"Dea beidh chugat." The ancient tongue rolled off easily, and a faint tinkling noise echoed, as Jack bowed his head in respect.

Reaching for the potion, Jack uncapped it and held the faerie over it, the limp body frail in his hand. His fingers slowly curled in and pressed against the faerie, as Jack turned his fist to have his fingers parallel to the ground. Crushing it with force, Jack felt the body get smaller until all he felt was grains of dust. Opening his fist, a golden dust resting in his palm, and Jack sighed, taking 5 pinches of it to drop into the potion. A singular pinch was placed back in the vial the corpse had arrived in, and sent back for the family to have, as was customary. Pouring the rest in his almost empty bag of faerie dust, Jack turned back to the potion. Plucking two of his own hairs, Jack dropped them into the potion and held his hand over it.

"Croí an ghrá."

The potion sparkled and turned scarlet, fading in colour slightly as Jack took it outside. Holding it up to the bright moon that was shining down on him, The potion bubbled and glowed with a white aura.

"O Bandia bless tú dom."

The wind began to howl around Jack and he kneeled, almost as an offering to the sky. Leaves broke off from nearby trees and danced in the wind, fluttering around the potion vial. Eyes clenched closed, The Draoi suddenly gasped and the lids of his eyes shot open, the whites replaced with a neon glowing green.

"Tá do arna iarraidh a freagraíodh agus deonaíodh."

A ghostly voice, neither male nor female echoed in the wind that swirled past Jack's ears. Smiling, the Draoi waited with his head bowed until the sky calmed, and lifted his gaze to see the potion had dried to a fine powder. Thanking the night sky once more, Jack turned back to his cabin and went inside, ready to crash for the night.

--

Mark screwed the last screw into the wall and smiled at his handiwork. Flicking the switch up and down, he grinned even wider when the light turned on and off.

"You did a mighty fine job on that switch." He turned to see Ms. Afton standing in the doorway.

Brushing the drywall dust off his hands, Mark sighed contentedly, leaning against the wall. He was shaken from his relaxation by the sharp voice of the older woman.

"You're not done yet sonny." She said, turning towards the kitchen and pointing a slightly wrinkled finger. "You've gotta help with the dinner."

Stretching, Mark took a deep breath and began to walk in the direction Ms. Afton indicated. "What's on the menu?"

"Octopus stew. Made the way my Avo did it." Rubbing her hands in anticipation, Ms. Afton moved faster than Mark though possible for a woman he age, sifting through the cupboards grabbing ingredients.

"Octopus stew? I take it you're from an island." Mark said, waiting for instruction.

"The Açores of Portugal." Ms. Afton stated with an accent so heavy it startled Mark.

She dropped a sack of potatoes into Mark's waiting arms and turned to the cupboard, grabbing a cutting board. Placing it on the counter, she waved to it. "Clean them, peel them, then cut them into quarters."

Mark nodded dutifully and opened the sack, grabbing about 6 potatoes. Nodding, Ms. Afton began to work on the broth.

"So were you born on the islands, or here?" Mark asked, scrubbing the dirt off the potatoes.

"Sadly, I was born here, but my Avo taught me much about São Miguel. Our island. I've been there a few times, it is so beautiful. I saw our home, right on the beach."

Mark continued on with listening to the woman's story. He smiled when she talked about her adventures with the small volcanic island off of the coast and laughed when she talked about the parties that ended in the craziest of ways, with almost the entire town in a small gathering centre. She beckoned him over a few times to taste the broth, to which he said it really didn't have a taste. She smiled and went into the fridge, pulling out a small glass jar of red paste.

"Pimenta Moida." She took out a spoon and took a small amount on the tip, offering it to Mark.

Hesitantly, Mark tried the paste, coughed at the spice. Laughing, Ms. Afton put 3 tablespoons into the broth. Pouring Mark a glass of milk, she stirred the paste into the broth.

Coughing, Mark slammed his fist against his chest. Chuckling, he turned back to the potatoes.

"Afton doesn't really sound like a portuguese name." He commented.

"My mother's side."

"Ah."

They continued in pleasant silence.