and Angels Without Wings...
"...I recall Tati saying once that the Other Kingdom might spoil us for life in our own world because nothing could match up to it.
'Where is the portal? How can I find it?'
Tadeusz's teeth gleamed in the moonlight. 'There is a price,' he said, 'Do not forget that...no greater than you can afford, Jena...'
'If I decide to go, how would I get over? Where would I go?'
'If you would cross over, call to me, and I will take you there.' His voice wrapped about me like a soft cloak.
'Call to you, how?'
'Ah, that is a simple matter. You need only want me, Jena, and I will come to you. I am not bound by man's fences nor fetters--no need of door or keys of spells or incantations. I will hear your call in the pulsing of the blood, in the urgent hammering of the heart.' He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand; it sent a shiver through me..."
--Wildwood Dancing
--Juliet Marillier
. . . .
Nos Galen Gaea'
Bwbach ar bob camfa
On Allhallows' Eve
A bogie on every stile...
--Welsh, from Cardiganshire
* * * *
Emlyn woke rather late, it was a Saturday. She'd been up late the evening before, reading. She had finished the Hobbit, at last, and found it altogether enjoyable. Jack had mentioned a sequel which she found herself now most desirous of.
She found her ankle felt a little better, although swollen still, and she had to admit; she had rather waited up for Daryl, in hopes of his return. It had been past midnight when she retired; and, no Daryl. She knew then that he probably was still 'catching up' with Yvonna... Well, she wished them both joy of one another. It was nothing to do with her, she told herself...
As she gingerly descended the stairway she heard two things:
the Grandfather Clock striking 11 a.m., and the sound of a violin coming from the study...ah! Daryl was here now and all was well. Or, what passed for it in their world.
Emlyn couldn't quite catch the tune, it must be of some modern mode unknown to her, or to anyone else in this time period. She moved on into the kitchen where evidence of Rosa's industry met Em most agreeably in the appearance of carrot muffins and hot water for tea...
She hadn't long to wait for Daryl's entree', which was accompanied by his humming a tuneful ditty, as he blustered about, refilling the kettle. 'Ah! Bore da, Em! How is the ankle mending?'
'Much better, Daryl! Thank you. Only slightly swollen...' She was dying to know what he had been up to in the Shoppe, and if he had been 'at the Cup', as it were...she truly hoped he would stay away from the thing. But she kept all such ponderings to herself. For the moment.
'Nice day,' Daryl deigned to spare a glance out the window. 'Fog seems to be moving on. Be clear and sunny by the afternoon, I think.' He took a seat on a stool across the kitchen from her and chewed a muffin thoughtfully, staring at Emlyn. 'Perhaps...we should take a drive.'
'Oh? Where to?' Em thought that an excellent idea. If they were off together she would have his ear, uninterrupted.
Daryl arose, answering the kettle's whistle. He poured hot water into his French Press for coffee. 'It seems hard to believe, but...it must have been just this time of year, we were off for calabasas to bedevil Rosa with for months on end!'
'Oh my. You're right, Diego, so we were...' Em sipped her tea. 'It seems so long ago...' Indeed, it was hard to believe...she had been just arrived then from la Villa Encantada. How much things had changed...
'Well, what do you say?' Daryl poked about the pantry, opening cupboards, 'A picnic at the shore? We'll try to keep the calabasas to a minimum this time, or Rosa shan't let us in the door...'
And so, Em prepared picnic things for an outing as Daryl put the coach together and hitched Galahad for the drive. He then came in the back door, asking, 'Ready?'
He found Emlyn amidst several pair of boots and shoes, face rather flushed and not appearing to be ready it seemed.
'Ooh...I didn't think it had swollen this much! I can't find a shoe to fit, and forget the boots...'
'Indeed...' Daryl pondered the situation a moment. 'Just, wait here!' He pounded up the stairway and Em heard him rummaging in the upper hall closet. He returned with a soft stretching sort of slipper, and kneeling, managed to slip it over Emlyn's swollen stockinged foot.
'Amazing! It rather stretches to fit the size...it's perfect! It's not my foot itself that's too big, but the surrounding area...' Em stood, 'Thank you, Daryl. I don't think this is any shoe I could find in this century, however.'
'Let us not dwell on that!' He helped her gather together bags and baskets and they loaded all in the coach then Daryl assisted Em onto the driver's seat.
'Your Pumpkin Coach awaits, Cinderella!' Said he, with a mock bow.
. . . .
And, so it was that they found themselves reprising the Pumpkin Expedition in the landau of the year previous; however, Daryl decided to drive, with Emlyn on the seat beside him this time. 'You can always ride in back, if you wish to rest later,' he'd told her, but she actually liked the view from 'on high' in the driver's seat, and sometimes took the lines herself.
It was a fine day, by the time they took to the coast road, the fog was lifting and a wan sun began to warm the autumn chill.
'It looks glorious this time of year! I'm glad you suggested an outing, Diego; one doesn't really notice the change of seasons until one gets out of the City.'
Emlyn continued to exclaim over every yellow and red leaf she saw en route.
'I heard your violin this morning. I didn't recognize the tune, however...'
'No wonder there, Em; it's a 20th century country song called, 'Don't It Make Your Brown Eyes Blue'...meaning 'blue' as in, 'feeling low-down', 'got the blues', you know.' Daryl kept Galahad to a stately walk, not wishing to tire his favorite this side of the border.
'I'm familiar with the blues, just,' Em replied, 'thanks to Alice, and Jack. Are you feeling blue, Diego?'
'Not at all.' he shied a glance her way, and smiled crookedly. 'It's just...something that stuck in my head after doing research on heredity. I believe I've mentioned that once, everyone on this planet had brown eyes, then, in 2008, research revealed that people with blue eyes have a single common ancestor. Scientists tracked down a genetic mutation that leads to blue eyes.
'Apparently, the mutation may have arisen in a singlar individual in or around the Black Sea region 6,000–10,000 years ago during the Neolithic revolution. A genetic mutation affecting the OCA2 gene in our chromosomes resulted in the creation of a 'switch,' which literally 'turned off' the ability to produce brown eyes. The switch limits the action of a certain gene, which reduces the production of melanin in the iris. In effect, the turned-down switch diluted brown eyes to blue. If the OCA2 gene had been completely shut down, our hair, eyes and skin would be melanin-less, a condition known as albinism.'
Ah, Uncle Daryl was waxing heuristic already. Well, she wished to find answers to questions. Hopefully, he was actually going somewhere with all this...
'That's fascinating Daryl...so, blue-eyed people had a common ancestor, who suddenly appeared with this suppressor gene? That seems most odd. Rather like the sudden appearance of Cro-Magnon over Neanderthal.'
Daryl was studying Em intently. '"Suppressor gene", Emlyn, yes, exactly.' He wondered how much young Em knew already, and how much he should divulge. He also wondered if she had interacted with Anara of late...but that was his own selfish interest. She, Anara, had rather absented herself recently, in his experience.
Em gazed back at Daryl, studying his eyes, which seemed to be back to their usual silver-gray in the sunlight. 'I wonder what that could mean...?' Em mused. 'Doesn't it seem rather odd, that such things could suddenly occur? It rather flies in the face of evolution.'
Daryl sighed. 'Yes, Em, it does.' He decided to leave it at that, at least for now. 'Ah!' He nodded off to their left, 'I'm seeing orange! Shall we stop?'
He pulled the coach into the drive of the pumpkin patch and Emlyn happily retrieved her bags and a basket as they strode through the fields, Em having to rather rein in her natural enthusiasm to match her limping limb, as she perused the patch. She stuck with two smallish pumpkins, and some squashes, deciding that would be plenty, as they still had apples enough from Homer's.
Daryl, however, had, as before, gone around the back of the barn with the pumpkin man, and was returning now with jars of cider and jack...
'Ready?' He enquired, as they loaded all within.
'Quite,' said Em, as he helped her back onto the driver's seat. 'It's a good job we are sitting up here, Diego, the passenger seats are filling up already, not to mention the floor!'
'We'll see if we can't lighten the load soon. Keep an eye out for a good place to picnic!' And turning about, waving to Peter Pumpkin, as his patch was dubbed, they were back on the coast road, heading south.
For some miles they had been the only travelers once past the City, but now they saw a cart approaching from the other direction. 'My stars! It looks like the Leeks!'
Em declared. And it was!
Connor and Bridget soon hove into view, and, like themselves, Connor drove, whilst his good wife sat beside him up front.
The Nob Hill neighbors pulled up alongside one another and exchanged greetings, news of the purlieu and current goings-on. 'We will be seeing you at Samhain, now!' Bridget commented decisively.
'Well...' Daryl demurred, but Emlyn was quicker:
'Oh, most assuredly! I would not miss it! You will come, of course, Daryl!' Em gave him no time to protest, 'Oh, and if I may, I wish to bring along a couple of friends?--Shannon Fitzgerald and Jeanne MacKinnon; oh, you would love to meet them both, I know! It was they who have been acquainting me with Celtic lore and legends, you see!'
Connor and Bridget assured her it would be most agreeable if she would bring her young friends, 'And we won't allow you to absent yourself from the biggest celebration of the year, now, Daryl!' Connor bore down upon Uncle and eventually forced his reluctant acquiescence.
At last, after Daryl offered a tasting to Connor of 'Peter's' jack, and instructing him on the directions there, the two parties took their leave and Daryl and Em were soon back on route.
Daryl drove in uncharacteristic silence awhile.
'Something amiss, Diego?' Em enquired.
'Well, rather, yes! I mean, must you ask, Emlyn?' Daryl replied, 'Are you forgetting already what happened at the harvest festival? I thought you were worried about Morgana and John?' He shook his head slowly. 'I can't believe your insouciance!'
'Daryl. Really.' Em couldn't help but smile; she just couldn't be pleased, could she? First she'd felt Jack was not taking things seriously enough, and now she was dismayed that Daryl actually was...she sighed.
'I...rather agree with you, on one hand, but on the other, I also think that Jack has a valid point in that:
what could we possibly DO, Daryl? I mean, do we simply hole up at home, not, not LIVING, just waiting out our days in fear?'
Daryl remained tight-lipped, driving on mechanically.
He slowed then. 'Does that eucalyptus grove look familiar?' He turned about in his seat. 'Yes, I think so! The road is somewhat overgrown now, but, isn't this where we stopped last time?'
Em looked about her, yes, it could be the place...'Let's not get stuck here, though, Daryl...maybe we should get out and lead Galahad on...'
This was, indeed, The Place.
Galahad was unhitched and hobbled near, whilst Em again spread their picnic blanket before the large bone-colored driftwood log, and was placing her pumpkins upon the corners when Daryl appeared at her side, smiling strangely.
'Seeing you, with those pumpkins in hand, I feel I must be your Fairy Godfather,' he remarked.
'If Fairy Godfathers kidnap their charges!' Em quietly informed him, sitting, and she began to unpack their lunch;
turkey sandwiches with avocado and tomato, grapes and figs,
chocolate brownies and a wedge of swiss cheese.
'They do, in fact,' Daryl informed her, taking a seat upon the log. 'Surely Em, you know from fairies and kidnappings!'
He nonchalantly bent forward and snagged a sandwich, and unstopping the lid to the cider, handed it to Em, who ignored it, and with just the hint of a raised eyebrow, Daryl sat it before her.
'There is in fact, a whole tradition of kidnappings, especially during weddings, entirely staged as part of the ritual, you see, in many Celtic countries. They are meant to portray, or echo, if you will, the myths of the gods and goddesses, Emlyn fach. It's all rather Homeric...'
'Homeric', my Aunt Fanny, thought Em, but she merely ate her grapes and gazed out to sea.
Daryl sat chewing his sandwich contemplatively...diosa, but it had been a year since they'd arrived...and, in all that time, he'd been but tip-toeing about some Revelations he'd decided must be imparted to Emlyn. And so it goes, for a year and a day later...perhaps it was now Time, and, indeed, long past.
Emlyn was removing her shoes and stockings, Daryl tried not to notice, but when she also unpinned her hair and shook it out, he couldn't help but comment:
'Ever wonder why it is written in the bible that women should cover their heads in church, lest it tempt the Angels?'
'I can only imagine that there must be some lustful, importunant Angels about...'
'There are.'
Emlyn glanced up at Daryl who was not smiling. He regarded her narrowly. 'And the Sons of Heaven looked down upon the Daughters of the Earth, and found them fair...' He poured out some apple cider into two cups, handing one to Em. 'And, so there were Giants upon the earth in those days, the Nephilim.'
'Yes,' Em mused, 'I had wondered about that. It all sounds rather mythic, si?' Em sipped some cider and took out her sandwich.
Daryl slid down the log and landed on the blanket next to Em. 'Si.' He looked at her, and grinned, then cut the cheese into slices and took some grapes for himself, staring out at the seascape and noting fog threatening.
'So?' Em regarded him soberly, 'What of these Sons of Heaven then? Who were they? Or, should I ask, who ARE they?'
'Yes, actually, you should...' Daryl sighed, popping a grape in his mouth. '...for they indeed, ARE, still. And, this being a free-will universe; As Above, So Below; there are to be found both negative and positive beings, as we would term them, or more accurately, service-to-self, vs. service-to-others, or the greedy black knights vs. the chivarous white knights...although it's hard to tell one from the other, at times. Such is their art. One need only consider religious and political arenas...'
Em struggled to keep up. 'So...would this enclude the Tuatha de Danaan?'
Daryl sighed. A tough subject...'Yes, and no...'
'Oh, Daryl...you can be so instructive, to the point where you are obstructive.'
Daryl smiled. 'I'm just trying for accuracy, here, Emlyn fach...'he paused for cider. 'The Tuatha de arrived from 'the heavens' indeed, then were run to ground, and below, into the Hollow Hills.
'They have acted, on the whole, as mostly white knights for the Celtic peoples; and indeed, were their progenitors. Although they came 'from the heavens', they soon became more like the elementals, guardians of the natural world, and fierce defenders of their new Realm, the Sidhe.'
'But the others, are they the ones you term the 'Others', then, Daryl?' Em linked the two.
'Quite possibly, probably, yes on that,' Daryl allowed.
'The Annunaki...a very old race of beings...were probably the first to instigate genetic tampering of the indigenous, brown-eyed populace of planet earth.'
'So...they were not, the 'good guys'?' Em asked, confused.
'Their tinkerings were for the most part, only for the enrichment of themselves, to create a slave race to mine for gold, although they did teach the people of the region of Sumer, or Persia the agricultural arts, cuniform writing, animal husbandry and the like, leaving the mythos of Ur and Gilgamesh.'
'So, these were the Sons of Heaven, who, coupled with the daughters of earth to create the Nephilim, then?' Em hoped she was following alright.
'Quite.' Daryl finished his apples, going for the figs and grapes. 'And, once that dyke was breached, it sort of opened the floodgates, and other 'Sons of Heaven' followed in kind, and the great experiment commenced, creating the potpourri of peoples and races now prevalent.'
Experiment. Nice. But, daughter of her father, Em was used to that, indeed.
'But from whence did they all come?' Em pondered. 'And...if the original inhabitants were brown-eyed, does that mean...' Emlyn looked at him beseechingly, '...does it mean that blue-eyed people are...the inheritors of the genes of the Black Knights?'
Daryl smiled and spoke softly, 'No, Em, it doesn't. Obviously, changes were made. But, the Others, the Annunaki, weren't the only races making changes. Other 'Sons of Heaven' so to speak, also came, and added their own DNA, their own gene patterns, and some, were meant to cancel out the changes implanted by the Annunaki, or the Others.'
Em struggled to keep up once more. 'It's rather confusing.'
She sipped at the cider. 'So, the Wars in Heaven, came to earth and the battleground here, was humankind? Sounds nefarious, Diego...can this actually be true?'
Daryl sighed. By Jove, she had it at last. 'Yes, Em, dead on, there.' He drew spirals in the sand. 'Planet earth is the chessboard, and we all are pawns, even the kings and queens, so-called.'
The Only Game In Town, thought Daryl.
There was a particular race, gifted with superior genetics, who could rise to great heights in all the arts and sciences, and, the reason being, that they had been 'implanted' so to speak, with a suppressor gene, which could block the genetic mutations of the Others. Their race was meant to become the Father of Many Nations, but, the Others, doing damage-control, turned that all about and this particular race, mostly through the dogma of religion, bethought themselves special in the sense that they wished to keep their line 'pure', and so were barred from intermarrying outside of their tribe...'
'The Jewish tribes!' Em exclaimed.
'Exactly so...' Daryl frowned, recalling his brother Drake's
mad condemnation of his wife, Sarah, upon discovering her Jewish ancestry. 'In later years, not so far ahead from our time here now, a great war will center around the attempt to completely exterminate the Jewish race. Genocide. A great evil.' Daryl picked up a stone and tossed it at an overly-curious seagull. 'It is said, in fact, that, there may have been someone, killed in these pogroms, who had the wherewithall to help the people of earth to be free of the planet, to develop interstellar travel, and to colonize space. If this person had not been exterminated, possibly, we would not now be left with the decayed and dying planet we have inherited in my time.'
Emlyn considered all this...quite a hefty heaping of conundrums for a picnic by the sea...it made a strange sort of sense to her, however. But, there was so much to grasp...
'So...the Jews were actually meant to intermarry, and to spread the suppressor gene among all peoples, and so to thwart the designs of the Others...' she frowned, hoping to get all this sorted, '...so, what would the suppressor gene be suppressing then? '
'Well, don't be thinking Em, that all brown-eyed folk are white knights whilst having blue or other eyes denotes some alien agenda for evil! Everyone has so much mixed blood, we are, especially here in America, a nation of mutts, you might say...which makes for a hearty species. And, the tinkering has been ever on-going, so that many brown-eyed folk have their hands in the cookie jars, or city funds, whatever...and many with blue eyes are doling out meals to hobos in soup kitchens everywhere. At least until the lawmakers so called, term it illegal.
'But, yes, still it is a handy thing to have a drop of Jewish blood in one's makeup.
'I believe that the gene suppresses what is an actual encoding in our DNA, which predisposes humans to follow instead of lead. To give up one's autonomy, the ability to think for oneself. People give all too much power to religion and the government to think and decide for them.'
'What of the Celts, then?' Em feared to ask. 'Giants in the land in those days, and I'm thinking of Bran the Blessed! He cut quite the wide swath, so he did...'
'Yes, and his Talking Head spoke on even after separated from the rest. Bran could have been Nephilim, or at least had some of that blood, indeed...there was also the tale of the missing planet, where the asteroid belt now is...before the planet was destroyed, the people there were ferried to earth and became the progenitors of the Celtic and Scandinavian races.' Daryl surmised. 'So it is said.
'However, both bloodlines were characterized by extreme dualities; there is predisposition for either positive or negative. The Celts and the Essenes had interconnecting bloodlines, as well...' Daryl frowned too...he was recalling the scenes of Emlyn and himself in the Cathar's castle...
'However, it is true that in the Celts, the duality itself is more pronounced, they posess more, and stronger, vital power centers.'
Daryl was nodding, 'And, truly, there's strength of oak and root and stone in the earth itself and her indigenous peoples. It is widely held by many, that if earth's folk had simply been left alone, and not genetically altered, they would have all progressed along a more natural and beneficent line; congruent with and supportive of the planet. That, is the line taken by the High Council. And, taken entirely of itself, sound reasoning.
'Although so-called 'progress' has altered all native peoples, still, they were the last stalwarts adhering to the practices which were keeping the heart and health of Mother Earth alive and well. As much as they could, but, for the most part, in my time, those acting not with good intent toward the health and healing of the earth, seemed to gain ascendancy, to install Moloch and the worship of gold above all else...even if it killed them all, and the planet as well.'
'So...there's no going back, and there's no way to start anew, except with a new planet and a new indigenous race. We have to work with what we have...possibly, Jewish bloodlines mixed with Celtic and indigenous peoples, would be the best mix for a new and improved planet?' Em asked, trying to get herself on track.
'That would be us!' Daryl summed up, repacking their basket.
'But, you, yourself haven't Jewish blood, Daryl, or do you? And, I don't believe I do...' Em stood, shaking out the blanket.
'Really? Do you know all that for certain?' Daryl grinned at her. 'Let's take a walk.'
. . . .
'Keeping up alright, Emlyn fach?'
Daryl stood at the sand dune's crest, staring about, listening to the ocean's roar, as he and Galahad awaited Herself.
Em hobbled up alongside, having made a driftwood stick her new best friend. 'I like to think I am,' she replied, inhaling deeply of the salt air. Gods how she loved the ocean...
Daryl looked down upon her, studying her face with a small grin. 'You're bloody amazing, you are,' he owned, gazing out to sea. It certainly wasn't every young 19th century female Daryl could regale with such Tales of Mystery and Imagination, who would not wish to exit his presence at a sprightly clip upon the hearing of said Tales.
'Well, ready for more?' He held out an arm to her.
'Why not upside, onto Sir Galahad, he would be ever so obliging...' Daryl took Em's stick and gently tapped the grey's foreleg; he responded with a deep bow, whilst Daryl
helped her up. And they were away, along the deserted stretch of beach...upon the horizon the light was just nudging sundown, it held that certain golden hue.
'I do think that the present juncture may betide a coming Timequake. Perhaps.' Daryl pondered aloud as they slowly strode the strand. 'I had hoped,' he paused and gazed up at Em, 'that I might be able to corral you, Jack and Aleister, back at Massachusetts house, where you would bide safely out of harm's reach.'
Oh, no, Daryl...not now! 'And miss Samhain!' Em was aghast.
'Not possible, Daryl. Really, that is a bit much.'
He continued to eye her, eyebrows raised. 'We'll see if you think so, still, on Nos Galan Gaeaf!' He shook his head, sighing, and picked up an abalone shell, handed it to Em, who put it in her net bag. 'That's 'Winter's Eve' in the Welsh, Emlyn fach. Well, outside of actually hogtying you all and locking you up there, I suppose I really can't save you from your folly...'
Good, Em thought. Perhaps Daryl was learning. But, it did give her pause, rather, and she was thinking it would be prudent to take extra care and keep one's eyes peeled for
trouble. She didn't much like thinking about it all.
'Have you...been in touch with Anara of late, Diego?' she ventured.
For some moments, Daryl said nothing, just moseyed down the damp, packed sand. 'No, actually, I haven't. Not in some time.' He gazed up and outward, and noting the sun beginning to dip, checked his pocket watch. 'Have you?'
Em couldn't recall when it was she'd last interacted with her Otherworld sister. 'Ye-esss...it was I believe, weeks ago however. She told me that we all are our own saviors and to trust my instincts.'
Daryl smiled, 'Wise advice.' He pulled up Galahad and then turned them about. 'We should head back, I suppose. Be best to be home before sundown...' He patted Galahad's neck who shook the sand out of his mane. 'So...speaking of Anara, and Thelene...I believe that's where our good Yeats is now, also.'
'Ah, truly?' This was news to Em. Interesting...
Yeats had left to dwell in the Otherworld, with his Faery Queen...
'Yes. He and Thelene are...partnered, just as Anara and I. He must have finally come round to seeing the League's side...' Daryl was muttering to himself...but he spoke up then, 'The League is, one might say, an example of the White Knights in this particular play, whilst, oddly enough, the so-called High Council, of whom Thelene was a member in good standing before she defected over to the League...could be judged, in spite of themselves, as guilty for what may be possibly deemed one of history's greatest crimes. In theory, their aims seem prudent and wise, but in actuality, their insistence upon merely doing nothing, whilst worlds crumble all about them, is unpardonable! "Neutrality aids the oppressor, not the victim! Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented!"'
They walked on quietly for awhile, listening to the sounds of crashing waves and seabirds, Em closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself on the Beach of her Dreams, with Anara...she smiled then, sure that Daryl was doing the same...
. . . .
The sun was inching ever nearer the sea by the time they were repacked and heading back to the City. Fog began to roll back in, still some miles out, but the fog creature might just catch them still, before arriving safely home...
'So,' Daryl sighed, 'I suppose we are on for Samhain at the Leeks this year...'
Emlyn suddenly recalled why she had wished to see Daryl. 'Yes, Diego! It will be fine, you'll see! There isn't to be a terribly huge crowd...' Daryl shot her a glance, eyebrow lifted in silent argument there, '...well, not as large as the Midwinter Ball...'
'...And you recall what happened there!' Daryl added.
'Yes.' Em bit her lip. Madness, that! A Timequake...and Daryl supposed another was building... Well, be that as it may, Emlyn was not going to put her life in a tiny box and bury it hidden from supposed bogies. 'But, you said, that 'tornado' had passed.'
'Perhaps.' Daryl made a face, knowing he was losing this one. No young person wished to be shut away during the holiday season...
'So!' Em continued, brightly, 'My friends, Shannon and Jeanne, you would so like them, Diego. We, we've made a Triad, you see, representing Wales, Scotland and Ireland.'
Oy, vey, thought Daryl...I'm to be responsible for an International Incident now.
'Indeed?' One eyebrow raised, the other down, knowing where this was heading.
'Yes. Quite so. Well,' Em wondered how to present the case for having her friends stay over, at Daryl's house, when she had already invited them...' They were ever so hospitable with me, and Jethro, when we visited their camp at Midsummer...I would so like it if they could attend Samhain with us...at the Leeks, and to stay, at the house here, after?'
Daryl was obviously, beaten. 'Of course!' He may as well polish up the tea service!
'Yes, they would be most welcome. Triad, eh?'
He clicked to Galahad and shook the lines, 'Best get a trot on...shadows do lengthen...only a few weeks now until Samhain.'
'Yesss...and my birthday tonight...'Em mused to herself.
'It is?!' Daryl looked surprised. 'Well! And what have you planned then?' He knew it was her birthday, of course...
'Can you believe I'd forgotten?' Em smiled as they jogged along. 'I've been so busy...'
'Well, no matter. We'll have a quiet evening celebration at home then...' Uncle Daryl assured her.
Well, why not? thought Em. With the big to-do of Samhain looming large on the horizon, that was the celebration Em was looking forward to. A quiet supper at home, just she and Daryl might be nice...with Rosa and Manuel, naturally.
They just made it back onto Nob Hill as the evening was closing in about them; the merest splash of fuchsia showed against the horizon, and streetlamps just beginning to shed small pools of light in the foggy mist encroaching about them. 'I'll just help you in with the pumpkins, then see to our trusty Galahad...' Daryl escorted her up the front steps and setting down a large pumpkin beside the door, opened it and gestured Emlyn within...
Goodness, it was dark in here...
But not for long.
-- Em leaped out of her skin, when Jack, Aleister, Yvonna, and Rosa and Manuel, of course, all sprang up, yelling: 'Surprise!', and turned the lights upon her surprise birthday party, apparently.
'Oh, my stars! You all just startled me out of my boots!'
Em gulped, trying to catch her breath, as Jack enfolded her in a bear-hug.
'Come on, Em...we have a wonderful supper planned, and, there's cake!' Jack escorted her into the dining room, where the long walnut table was laid with a white lace cloth and fine china; orange and red linen napkins matched well with the large pumpkin Daryl now placed upon the table as centerpiece.
'Happy Birthday, Emlyn fach,' he said, as he put an arm about her and kissed her forehead.
Well, Daryl had been right about one thing: you just never knew what was next with these timewalking, myth-talking, adventure-stalking, pumpkin-eating friends of hers.
She wouldn't have it any other way...
. . . .
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