**I couldn't find the Latin invocations which might have been in use at the time, so please try to overlook that. ~shrug~ Also, try to bear in mind that certain types of human relationships weren't as out there as they are today. The story is set in 1876.
This chapter is all about who versus what. The Book of Werewolves was written by Sabine Baring-Gould and published in 1865. 0_o
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"Amy," Maeve said, "while Ximena is busy with the doors and windows, I want you to bring the two tall candles here from the big shelf there. Set them here on the table and light them. Miss Sabrina, please bring Ximena's box of cigarillos here and place it on the table in front of her chair."
She looked at Arn, "And Stormfeather, please sit down directly in front of me so that we face each other."
All of them did as was asked, the three younger females casting wondering looks toward the elderly woman. Only Stormfeather did not, as though he knew and was cognizant of what was to come. No one said anything for a few minutes as the two looked at each other, though there was no tension between them at all.
"This is not exactly the sort of conversation that I'd ever thought that I'd be having in my life," Maeve said quietly, "but it's got to be said." She placed the last book on the table face-down before Stormfeather a little carefully, before she reached into her pocket for a few other articles which were in a cloth bag that she drew out and placed on the table as well.
"People vary widely in their temperament, intelligence, knowledge, and ability," she said, "Some are too innocent to know any better, and many are too stupid to care at all about things which can pass by their senses unnoticed -- unless something which they try to ignore confronts them, or bites them on the backside."
She drew another, smaller book from her pocket and laid it down before herself. "Since Amy returned from her trip to bury her father -- my poor nephew -- I saw that something in her had changed. My Amy has been such an important person in my life from the day that her father brought her to me. From her description of her vivid dreams, I learned of you, and though I didn't let on, I also knew that what she'd said must be true.
I knew that you lived and walked the Earth," she said as she looked at Arn.
Amy's eyebrow knitted together instantly, "What do you mean, Aunt Maeve, that there's some old Irish legend about just him or something?"
Amy's question caused Maeve to pause for a moment and consider. But then she laughed, "No, at least none about Arn specifically, though God knows there are plenty enough about everything, I suppose. I only said it badly," she chuckled, "I meant that there was a werewolf abroad, a real one, and that he was here someplace."
"I confess that I didn't know what to do, because I could see that there would shortly come a time when she would feel herself compelled to go to you. I was wrong about the reason, but I was certain that she would go. I argued against her leaving to go back there, but anyone who knows Amy knows that once she's taken it into her head to do something, little things like the reservations of others do not even touch her, never mind cause her to change her chosen path. I had a great many fears.
I wondered if I would ever see her alive again." she said, with a little waver in her voice that the thought of it brought to her, "I wondered if there was someone who I might hire to follow her, thinking that she might need protection, but I knew enough from the old legends that there was likely nothing that could be done, and anyway, there was no one here that I could trust to send who could convince her to abandon her purpose. All that I had were the misgivings and fears of an old woman."
She sipped her coffee and smiled a little uncomfortably. "It caused me a lot of trouble and worry, and so I took certain steps which I believed to be right and correct at the time. I sought to learn about you at first.
She shifted herself a little in her seat to find a more comfortable position, "Now? Well, I have learned a few things about you, her, and myself as well."
She sighed a little, feeling her own discomfort and embarrassment for what she felt that she had to confess. "I made a few hurried trips around town. I went to the telegraph office and sent a cable to the single most reliable dealer of books relating to the secrets of antiquity that I knew and, receiving a favorable reply, I beseeched them to send me what I asked for on the fastest ship that they could manage to have my purchases placed aboard for the purpose. That vessel landed at New York, and from there, my very expensive package was carried via rail by a courier sent by that firm's offices there and delivered to me personally here."
She watched his eyes flick down to the book and then back up to her face.
Maeve nodded, "This is one of the books that I bought. Please turn it over, Stormfeather, and read its title."
"I know what it is," he said, "I can sense it, but though I can speak many tongues which I have had to learn, "he smiled, "I have never learned to read any one of them."
He reached and in a second, Amy gasped as she read the title and he placed his other hand onto hers. "You need to let your indignation pass, Sheena," he said, "It does you no good here and now. Maeve wishes to express her regret and this is her way."
The old woman nodded, "I am very sorry to you both for what I have done, and it's worse for what I was given as a gift afterward. I want very much to ask for your forgiveness, both of you."
Amy felt her anger fade from her and she picked up the book for a moment, looking at the binding. She set it down again and looked at her great aunt a little sadly.
"The Book of Werewolves," she said, "You were seeking for ways to kill him when he got here."
Maeve nodded. "There are things which are for men to learn about and things which ought to remain hidden, but not impossibly so," she said, "lest there come a day when they are needed. This book was published only recently, and it is more of a compendium of tales and happenings in various legends. There is very little here on the ways of killing the subjects of the book -- other than what I might have already known anyway."
"And are they needed now, Aunt Maeve?" Amy asked, "Do you think that Arn needs to be killed?"
"No," the old woman shook her head, "I was wrong. I was wrong for thinking it," she said, sadly. "I was wrong for acting on my own fears, and for preparing to attempt it in order to save you."
She took a deep breath and let it out. "And I was wrong in my assumption that the one who you have wed was something evil. What I have learned is that he is rather more than the tortured creatures that this text deals with."
She looked up into Stormfeather's eyes, "Perhaps most important of all, I have learned that this person is not a something at all. He is someone who has done me a kindness such as no human can.
I worked myself into such a state as the days went by," she said, "It grew far worse when you said that you were going back to your farm. My package arrived, at huge cost to me for the transport of it across half the Earth to my hand. After you left, I worked my worry to ever new heights, since I now had something to read and grow my fear with. I now believe that my attack was caused by that fear and worry and the state to which I took myself in my own anguish."
She smiled, "I think now that it was a fitting and just judgment on me, to lie like that and not have half of my own body under my control. But there was a strange gift hidden in it. I changed, "she shrugged, "I have no name for it, but since I was like that, I was able to see and know many things which I would otherwise never have been able to envision.
She smiled, "As an example, I know that the little braids which you both wear in your hair today is an old custom from far away to show that a couple are newly wed. I'm sure that there's no person or book in this town where I could learn that. I simply know it.
I also know that you and Ximena have an issue between you which must be settled, or there will come a day when your friendship will be at an end. Neither one will want it, but it will come anyway unless her inquisitiveness is satisfied and soon. I don't want that to happen, and at the same time, she must learn what she wishes to know in such a way that neither of these two will be overtaken by their fright because that would ruin more than one friendship and make things difficult for another relationship that I have seen in my mind, for Sabrina has been a friend of yours for so very long."
Amy and Ximena looked at each other, knowing what was spoken of, and yet, not daring to bring it into the open between themselves.
"If it is to be saved," Maeve said, "then please, Amy, go and bring your sketches of the two of you here so that Sabrina knows what she might expect. It would allow a lot of things to begin to be settled."
Within ten minutes, Sabrina had seen all of the drawings, with Ximena explaining the things to her that she knew about. They both looked repeatedly from the drawings to the living couple and back to the sketches again. "You can't really change yourselves to look like this, can you?" Sabrina asked, looking as though she thought all of this sitting in a darkened room on a sunny morning was beyond the absurd.
"He doesn't care what you might believe," Amy said, "but I brought you here offering you a chance to teach at a school that would allow you to because I know that you can. I want you to have a life of your own. While I don't care what you believe, though it might cost me a long and dear friendship, what I care very much about is that you can at least master your misgivings long enough to begin. For that, you'll need to live here long enough to earn a little money before you find a place to live -- if that's what you want to do.
And for that to happen, Sabrina, you're going to have to accept him at least a little bit, and you'll both have to believe me when I tell you that nobody here is in the slightest danger from either of us. It's going to require your silence on the subject as well. So if you can suspend your misgivings and keep the knowledge of it to yourselves, then I'll keep my own about the two of you to myself." She shrugged, "I'd do that anyway. You know how I hate gossip."
"What do you mean?" Ximena asked.
"My aunt just said that she knows about you, though not in so many words. She's not stupid about the ways of the world or its inhabitants, so she won't mind your carrying on in her home. Arn and I wanted a little more wine last night, and I saw no need to bother anyone over something that I could get for myself. So I came downstairs to pour a little more into the pitcher. That took me past your rooms and I can tell you that there's nothing at all wrong with my hearing. The door to Sabrina's room was closed and I assume that it was locked as well, but there is the keyhole, isn't there? And you left a lamp burning."
The women looked at each other and then Sabrina lowered her gaze. Both of them were blushing furiously.
"Stop it," Amy said flatly, "I'm not an idiot either. What's wrong with what you were doing? Not a thing to my eyes, but that sort of thing would be seen as pretty scandalous to most narrow-minded folks, I think. I'm actually a little happy about it, though I can't explain why, exactly. I'm just saying that you have something between you that ought not to be spoken of in this town, though I'm sure it happens everywhere. If you're happy, then I'm happy for you. It's the same with Arn and I, that's all."
Stormfeather regarded Maeve for a moment and then he spoke. "I know what you would ask soon, but I am not certain that it is the best thing to do."
"Everyone has their little problems," Maeve smiled, "and almost everyone has their little secrets. Those who have no secrets at all deserve pity for a life poorly lived. I have my own, though they are long in the past, too far back to even speak of anymore, and they are warm memories to me."
