The Bride of Blackbeard by Brynn Chapman Page B

Legend claimed the
fairie unstoppable, except for one Achilles heel—gold. Obsession
often drove her mother to check outside her children's windows at
night, to reassure her tortured mind the piles of coins she placed
there remained untouched. Her grandmother had passed down this
tradition to her daughter, and although her mother was a Christian,
she couldn’t shake the customs she'd been raised on. Stanzy’s
knowledge about fairies rivaled her wisdom on birthing babies. She
was delivered the teachings in equal measure, each from her
parents’ separate views.
    Pulling up on Pilot’s reins, the horse
stopped abruptly. Had she heard something in the dark? The gloaming
was coming and a hazy light faintly illuminated the distant ground
where the earth met the sky.
    It sounded again—the snort of a horse.
    Her primitive brain awakened as her
heartbeat filled her ears. A horrid recollection arose. Her
mother's disjointed portrait of the Dollohan, illustrated at the
end of her life, when her mind revolted against sanity. A fairie
depicted atop a black steed, his fly-like compound eyes
bulging—searching for its next victim. As a child, she completely
avoided the room housing the picture .
    The snort of the Dollahan’s horse is what is
heard as he sits outside your gate, bringing with him the
announcement of death if his horse ceases its ride.
    In the misty distance, Constanza spied him—a
cloaked rider, holding a large, round object in his hand at the
side of his horse.
    It is his head, which he will hold aloft
to scan the fields for me, and when he sees me, he will call my
name...and I will die , her unchecked brain screamed within her
head.
    She involuntarily put her fingers in her
ears, and still heard the horse’s whinny as the rider pivoted to
face her. Beneath her, Pilot pranced back and forth and whirled to
face the manor from whence he came. His obedience knew its limits,
the horse reared and bolted like a shot in the direction of the
barn.
    This cannot be real. Am I losing my mind?
The first time in my life I am happy and now I am going daft? What
is next, another fantastic fairie portrait from the next generation
of lunatics?
    As Pilot whipped her around, from the corner
of her eye Constanza caught the rider’s hand, rising to lift the
round satchel high into the early morning air. Body curled toward
his neck, she urged the horse on. Sweat wet her palms, making the
reins slip. Pilot's flanks were white with perspiration as the
horse fled on instinct.
    Who could that have been?
    She resolved to tell no one, for fear they
would think her mad. Indeed, Father had fastidiously hidden many of
her mother’s behaviors from anyone outside their household. He knew
of her grandmother’s mental illness, and the fear that it might be
passed on in her mother or his children had been a real
concern.
    So, she was very reluctant to discuss this
incident with anyone. But reconsidering, she felt surely she
could...should...tell Lucian.
    Would he really want a mad bride? her
brain purred viciously.
    She locked it in the Pandora's box in her
mind, which now contained so many secrets she pictured a hairline
crack forming in its façade. She decided not to decide. Best to
think on it later, when she was capable of more rational
thoughts.
    Not thoughts of Fairies and Dollahans.
    When she heard a horse snorting in the
distance, goosebumps covered her entire body.
    ~ * ~
    In the schoolhouse the next day, Constanza
held the girl’s small body close to her own. She released her and
checked the window for what seemed the fifteenth time...where was
he?
    She gently rocked Megan. Stanzy’s face
flushed as she thought of Sarah Hopkins. Birthing babies with her
father, it had been very clear to her—not all women should be
mothers. Maternal instinct was not inherent in every creature, as
she’d witnessed too frequently in her lifetime. Many babes had been
dropped on their doorstep over the years—babies abandoned by their
mothers.