Page 63 of The Scald Crow

Faerie belief was alive and well in Donegal County and was looked upon fondly as part of our heritage. How many ideological and fantastical books have been written? But what would happen if those beliefs were proven to the world?

Calla’s image came into focus—my Faerie girl was already mired deep in their mystical world, a world she knew nothing about. I caught the last part of his sentence.

“Think of the power one man would have if he proved the existence of the immortals. Of the Tuatha Dé Danaan?” He patted the collie’s head.

“Wait, are you saying Hamstead stole the changeling? That he has control of a Faerie being? Then where is the child?” My stomach clenched with horror.

“That is a concern.” He tilted his head, giving me a hard look.

“Alright, what would you like me to do?” My arms hung loosely at my sides.

He gave me a history lesson from Christian priests in the fifth century.

“St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland, banished the slithering reptiles into the sea. He is credited for enlightening the pagan people and bringing Christianity to Ireland. Priests succeeded Druids. Christian celebrations supplanted Pagan ones. It was the end of paganism.” He lifted his shillelagh and scratched his head with the horned staff. “But now the Church is losing its grip on the masses. People are looking for other spiritual avenues. The time is ripe for zealots like Hamstead.”

My throat closed, grasping the magnitude of the situation.

“Do you know what adoration and power do to a man verging on madness? Suppose he is successful in his pursuits. The trail of destruction would be catastrophic.”

My thoughts turned in another direction. If inanimate objects had souls, the Tuatha Dé were gods and goddesses of the earth.

“Are your sources reliable?” I looked up from my musings.

“Of course they are, man. Do you take me for a fool?” His eyes were bright.

“My apologies.” I held up my palms, acknowledging my faulty judgment.

“The Tuatha Dé is a secret the Republic must protect.” His tone turned venomous.

“We are admitting the Other Crowd exists?” The Tuatha Dé, a race of mystical beings banished beneath the mounds by our ancestors, was rarely spoken of. I found his willingness to broach the sensitive topic astounding.

“If you met him, you’d pass him by and consider him a bumbling fool.” He turned the photo in my direction.

I looked upon an unassuming man who would blend into the crowd. I etched his face into my memory. “If one man could harness the power of the gods, the world as we know it would end.”

“His following is growing, with people departing from the Christian fold in search of other spiritual paths.” He sighed through his nose.

“So he’s their savior?” I chuckled, making light of the situation.

“Don’t laugh. What will his next step be? A promise of immortality? There’s more at stake than you realize.” He steepled his hands against his chest.

“Immortality?” I hadn’t given any thought to immortality. “It would make him a global force. You want me to bring Hamstead in?” I sighed inwardly. The older man knew me too well.

“No. We’ve penetrated the upper echelon of his organization. We have a source on the inside.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out another file.

“Who?” I scanned his eyes, searching for answers.

“I can’t tell you that.” His tone didn’t waver.

“Then why am I here?” I scratched my head.

“You’re acquainted with the girl, Calla Sweet?” He pushed the folder in my direction. I gazed at the tidy label imprinted with her name.

“Excuse me? What is the connection with Calla?” My stomach coiled. He had my full attention.

“I’m an old man, Colm. I’ve seen more than my share, but your Calla-girl is one of Them, but I think you know that. Some fool likely meddled in their business and stole her away as a babe, aye? It’s a dangerous thing messing with the Good Folk. Ach, that it is.”

The dog lifted his head and whined.

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