By and copyright of Owen Quinn author of the Time Warriors and Zombie Blues
They were taken into the hall where many of the villagers, of all ages, were standing silent, their faces locked in a trance. Their lips were moving as if having a conversation but there were no words coming out. They saw Betony sitting on the floor rocking back and forth as if cradling a child.
She looks so happy, thought Jacke as she wandered toward the centre of the hall, watching the Tir infected carefully.
Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Michael and Tyran standing in the middle of the room, side by side. Michael was lost to the same bliss as the Celts but Tyran’s expression was like marble. Managing to nudge Varran, she nodded gently to the others. She saw Tyran’s eyes flicker in her direction. Jacke winked. Tyran winked back. She hadn’t been affected! They sidled over towards her and Jacke took position behind her but close enough to whisper.
“About bloody time!” she hissed quietly.
“Mentara alert,” Jacke said.
“I know.” Tyran turned facing her friend. A Tir glanced in their direction but made no move. Jacke circled Michael trying to read his expression but he made no eye contact with her. He was lost to this hypnosis too. She glanced nervously at Varran who was eyeing the eight Tir guards, their stance stoic, and their weapons in hand.
He started at a blur of movement to his left and saw one of the guards clasp his throat and slump backward, blood spurting from his neck. Another followed before the remaining six lurched forward with a combined roar Aodhan leaped from the floor, a dagger still in each hand wet with blood and spun head over heels in the air, avoiding the swing of the swords like a ballet dancer before slicing downward.
At the same time, Tyran whipped out a pistol hidden in her tunic and fired a red beam at the nearest guard. She ignored Varran’s glare as Aodhan cut the throats of all the guards as they lay unconscious. Varran stared at the bodies, his mouth turned in disgust as the Tir parasites squealed in agony and squeezed out of the dead men’s heads and shrivelled up, their hosts dead. Aodhan nodded gratefully to Tyran before catching Varran’s perturbed expression.
“I told you we protect by any means necessary.” His voice carried no regret, no remorse at all. Varran looked at Tyran, the blond girl staring at the Tir, their insides staining the floor. “Where did you get that?”
“I smuggled it out before we left,” she admitted. “But I knew you’d start complaining and you couldn’t possibly still think we don’t need something to defend ourselves with in these circumstances.” She held his eyes but he knew she had been right.
“No, just don’t rely on weapons too much. The power to kill is very seductive.”
Tyran nodded understanding and looked to the druid cleaning his knife.
“So where did you pick up Jackie Chan?” she asked. “Nice moves,” she added admiringly. Aodhan bowed in thanks.
Jacke looked indignantly at the two of them. “Why didn’t you two do that sooner?”
“I was waiting for you to come back, though if you hadn’t, I would have had to do something myself sooner or later,” she chided. “Besides, laughing boy is no help whatsoever,” she pointed to Michael. He still stared into space. Gesturing for Aodhan to come closer, Varran asked was this normal for the return of the spirits? The druid gravely shook his head peering at the people around him.
“This is something new. Are they caught in a spell cast by the spider demons?”
“So it is the Mentara,” sighed Tyran. She remembered their last encounter all too well. “We need more than this tooth pick,” she advised holding up the pistol.
“We don’t know what’s causing this yet and the rest of the clan is out on the moors probably trapped like this too,” cursed Varran pacing. “Did Michael say anything before they went like this?”
“He said two words, Mom and Dad,” Tyran reported. “I think Betony is seeing her little boy.”
“So the spirits have returned and are working in league with the demons?” Jacke waved her hand over Michael’s face.
“I don’t think so. There has to be a signal making them see their loved ones, some sort of hypnotic pulse. They probably think everything is normal, that Samhain is proceeding as usual.” She turned to Aodhan. “Has the Shield ever done anything like this before?” He shook his head balefully.
“Would me slapping Michael bring him out of it?” wondered Tyran.
“I doubt it, might be dangerous for him,” countered Jacke.
“Oh go on, it works in the movies!” she pleaded. He gave her a disapproving grin.
“What have I told you about hitting defenceless animals?”
The Time Warriors and Beyond 