doorway. I didn’t know how old the church was, but as I crossed the threshold, the dense wooden doorway held steady.
The interior was shaped like a cross with an altar at the far end. The marble under my feet was worn smooth with age, like a worry stone. No buildings this old existed in America, nothing of European origin anyway.
Lisette sank onto one of the few standing pews, her mouth ajar. I dropped to the seat in front of her. We were surrounded by tombs covered with effigies of long-buried knights. They lined the sidewalls and each grasped a stone sword. It was all so surreal. Shifting carefully to avoid a broken board, I raised my feet up to the bench. They throbbed and a million other aches hit me now that I’d stilled. I groaned. “I need a hot bath, adhesive bandages, and fluffy slippers. Not in that order.”
“This place is amazing,” Lisette said in a hushed voice.
“And a hot chocolate with mini marshmallows and cinnamon.” I was also ready for a day when we didn’t have to use hushed voices.
Sea air drifted inside through the cracked panes of stained glass. The salty chill was somewhat blocked by the thick walls and tempered by the sunlight filtering through the images, but the temperature was still a shock coming from Texas. I adjusted my skirt so it covered most of my legs, grateful for the overlong length.
“We shouldn’t be here,” Sean said, pacing. He glanced at the rafters and away as if one of the gargoyles would swoop down and get him.
The prosaic American in me had no fear of the ugly statues.
Austin neither. He jogged up to the pulpit. There, he clasped his hands together as if holding an imaginary sword and sliced downwards. “Was this where it happened? The story you told? Where King Mael lost his head?”
Sean stilled. “Get away from the altar. It’s holy and cursed.”
Austin ignored him. “Man, there are still real artifacts here. A tapestry, candlesticks. How come no one’s stolen this stuff?” Disbelief sounded in his voice.
“It’s forbidden to be here.” Sean’s whole body jerked. “This place is poison to my family. Cétchathachs disappear from here. Have always done.” He covered his mouth with his palm, stifling a moan.
Callum touched his shoulder but Sean flinched away and resumed pacing.
Lisette rose and stepped into the aisle, stretching her arms overhead. Numerous scratches marred her forearms and shins. The hike had been rough. I wasn’t used to the altitude, or the hilly geography. The dresses, the surroundings, and the sense of shock were increasing the out-of-body sensation.
Austin stayed at the front. He seemed fascinated by the stuff at the altar. His light eyes were intense, and he moved from one side to the other like a floating puzzle piece in a video game. My curiosity about what he’d found swatted down the pain. I moved toward him.
Callum touched a tarnished candlestick and the worn threads of what must have been an altar cloth. “I haven’t been here, not that I remember. I’ve just heard about it.”
“What’s the big deal?” Austin asked, holding up a candlestick. He jabbed it into the air.
Sean joined us, as if he couldn’t help himself. “As I said, many of our family disappeared from here. Forever.”
“People you know?” I asked. “You can name them? Or is it like an urban myth? Like waking up in Vegas without a kidney?”
Sean gave me a look of dislike. “It happened.”
Sun shined through the stained glass and circles of light played on the altar, lending the area a magical glow.
“Legend has it that if you wear the crown and ask for mercy, this place will save you,” Callum said. “But then of course you would owe a debt. Some say my long ago ancestor wasn’t beheaded here, but that King Mael disappeared from 1313.”
A chill went through me. His ancient story had taken on a spooky cast now that we were standing where it had actually happened.
Sean waved his arms and shook his head. His Irish accent
The interior was shaped like a cross with an altar at the far end. The marble under my feet was worn smooth with age, like a worry stone. No buildings this old existed in America, nothing of European origin anyway.
Lisette sank onto one of the few standing pews, her mouth ajar. I dropped to the seat in front of her. We were surrounded by tombs covered with effigies of long-buried knights. They lined the sidewalls and each grasped a stone sword. It was all so surreal. Shifting carefully to avoid a broken board, I raised my feet up to the bench. They throbbed and a million other aches hit me now that I’d stilled. I groaned. “I need a hot bath, adhesive bandages, and fluffy slippers. Not in that order.”
“This place is amazing,” Lisette said in a hushed voice.
“And a hot chocolate with mini marshmallows and cinnamon.” I was also ready for a day when we didn’t have to use hushed voices.
Sea air drifted inside through the cracked panes of stained glass. The salty chill was somewhat blocked by the thick walls and tempered by the sunlight filtering through the images, but the temperature was still a shock coming from Texas. I adjusted my skirt so it covered most of my legs, grateful for the overlong length.
“We shouldn’t be here,” Sean said, pacing. He glanced at the rafters and away as if one of the gargoyles would swoop down and get him.
The prosaic American in me had no fear of the ugly statues.
Austin neither. He jogged up to the pulpit. There, he clasped his hands together as if holding an imaginary sword and sliced downwards. “Was this where it happened? The story you told? Where King Mael lost his head?”
Sean stilled. “Get away from the altar. It’s holy and cursed.”
Austin ignored him. “Man, there are still real artifacts here. A tapestry, candlesticks. How come no one’s stolen this stuff?” Disbelief sounded in his voice.
“It’s forbidden to be here.” Sean’s whole body jerked. “This place is poison to my family. Cétchathachs disappear from here. Have always done.” He covered his mouth with his palm, stifling a moan.
Callum touched his shoulder but Sean flinched away and resumed pacing.
Lisette rose and stepped into the aisle, stretching her arms overhead. Numerous scratches marred her forearms and shins. The hike had been rough. I wasn’t used to the altitude, or the hilly geography. The dresses, the surroundings, and the sense of shock were increasing the out-of-body sensation.
Austin stayed at the front. He seemed fascinated by the stuff at the altar. His light eyes were intense, and he moved from one side to the other like a floating puzzle piece in a video game. My curiosity about what he’d found swatted down the pain. I moved toward him.
Callum touched a tarnished candlestick and the worn threads of what must have been an altar cloth. “I haven’t been here, not that I remember. I’ve just heard about it.”
“What’s the big deal?” Austin asked, holding up a candlestick. He jabbed it into the air.
Sean joined us, as if he couldn’t help himself. “As I said, many of our family disappeared from here. Forever.”
“People you know?” I asked. “You can name them? Or is it like an urban myth? Like waking up in Vegas without a kidney?”
Sean gave me a look of dislike. “It happened.”
Sun shined through the stained glass and circles of light played on the altar, lending the area a magical glow.
“Legend has it that if you wear the crown and ask for mercy, this place will save you,” Callum said. “But then of course you would owe a debt. Some say my long ago ancestor wasn’t beheaded here, but that King Mael disappeared from 1313.”
A chill went through me. His ancient story had taken on a spooky cast now that we were standing where it had actually happened.
Sean waved his arms and shook his head. His Irish accent
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