The bus ground to a halt, its air brakes hissing loudly and the tour guide arose, proudly announcing, "Welcome to Achill Island."
Erynne Herlihy wished that he would just shut up. The noises of the clanky diesel bus, the utterances of the other passengers and his loud booming voice didn't belong here. Not in Ireland and certainly not in this absolutely beautiful spot, the gorgeous and spiritual Achill Island.
I can't believe that I'm really here!
Ireland was so far away from Boston, so far away from the taunts and jabs of her old classmates, so far away from her recently deceased parents. Tears stung her eyes as she thought of them and the horrific accident that had taken their lives. They had been her protectors and her friends. They had comforted her when she had come home crying because of the teasing she'd had to endure at the hands of her classmates.
They're just jealous of your beautiful hair, Rynn.
Her dad had said.
And they'll never be as beautiful as you are.
She blinked rapidly and stared at the reflection in the dusty glass. She wasn't what you would call beautiful. Her smooth, pale skin was peppered with freckles and her red hair overpowered her deep green eyes.
You're a Herlihy and you have the blessing of the Irish.
Her mother's words burned in her mind. Blessing, indeed!
"Uh, miss?" Erynne looked up. "Are you ill?"
"No, sorry." She brushed past the tour guide, ignoring him as he tried to catch a glimpse of her 36Cs and stepped out of the bus.
Home.
There was no other word that she could find to describe the feeling that she felt as her feet touched Irish soil. A fine breeze washed over her as she took in the beauty of the surroundings; the emerald hills and valleys, the deep azure of the rolling sea and the creamy foam crashing onto the dark rocks took her breath away and she felt her pain fading away.
"Erynne."
She turned at the sound of her name and found herself alone, gazing across the water. The group from the tour bus had gathered around the tour guide, raptly listening as he mechanically spouted facts about the island and the driver was talking an old woman nearby. None of them could have spoken to her. She shook her head and turned back to the water.
The sunlight played on the surface of the water, reflecting the gold flecks in her eyes and bathing her soul in light.
"Erynne."
She blinked, suddenly feeling light-headed. Below her, the calm waters seemed to churn and come alive.
"Erynne, you are one of us."
She breathed deeply, feeling, no,
tasting
the essence of the air. She felt the urge to raise her arms, to bless and take the blessings of the land and the sea, to become one with the wind.
"Holy Shit! Look at that!"
The bus driver's exclamation brought the tourists running to her side, elbowing her aside to see the group of silvery dolphins who were now frolicking in the bay below. A disoriented Erynne stumbled out of the way, shaking the confusion off as the driver's eyes met hers. He looked her up and down, then returned to the dolphins, who were now departing as quickly as they had appeared. She knew that what he was thinking was what she already knew.
Somehow, she had called those dolphins. She knew it with the same certainty that she'd heard the voice calling her name.
What's happening to me?
The bus took them to the hotel for lunch and an afternoon of rest after an entire morning of bumpy bus travel. Erynne felt that she was back in Boston again. When she'd gotten on the bus, everything suddenly went silent and all eyes were on here. No doubt, the bus driver had told them that she was some kind of witch and they were now all wary of being near her. She had retreated to her seat and sat quietly, watching the Irish landscape speed by. At the hotel, she'd taken her luggage and immediately repaired to her room, tears in her eyes.
"I'm so stupid."
A shower and dinner didn't seem to raise her spirits. She despaired that she was in Ireland and was as miserable here as she was in Boston. She had failed and failed miserably.
Sorry, Mom and Dad.
She curled up in the big bed, sobbing until the mists of the Emerald Isle soothed her to sleep.
The mist seemed to wake her. She felt the tang of the salty sea in her nostrils and the caress of the ocean on her skin. It felt so good, so welcoming that she wanted more of it. She loosened the robe of her belt and shrugged it off, letting the refreshing breeze stroke her naked body. Her rosy nipples rose and hardened and her pussy pulsed as the wind blew across it.
She groaned deeply.
"Erynne."
The voice again, deep and soothing, assailed her senses.
"You are one of us. Let me show you."
She blinked sleepily as the gauzy blinds whipped in the sudden gust and the candles that she had lit earlier winked out. The encroaching mist thickened, moving closer to the bed. She groggily watched as the water-thickened air whirled and twisted into a form, clearing as he strode forward, his dark brown eyes fastened on her.
"Who are you?"
"I am the God of the Temple. I have been waiting for you."
"Me? How could you be waiting for me when I've never been here before?"
"Let me show you."
It should have frightened her. She should have been scared out of her mind but she wasn't. She couldn't explain why but all she felt was a sense of longing, a sense of emptiness and loss. She knew that he could and would fill that void. She opened her arms to him.
His touch was feathery at first, as soft as the mist he was formed from; warm, stroking fingers touched her forehead, rounded her cheeks and slid across her lips. His hand moved down, one finger running from her chin to the hollow of her throat. She gasped at the coolness of his touch and the answering fire that followed. His touch moved down her chest and his other hand joined, both encircling, then cupping her breasts. His nails lightly scraped along the sensitive undersides, drawing a loud moan from her.
They moved up and around, flitting over her tingling buds, pinching and pulling on them until she was panting, her body aching with need. He only smiled as he continued the delicious torment, squeezing the globes with his firm touch. She was enjoying it so much that she almost didn't feel ones of his hands drifting over her abdomen. He nudged her legs further apart and without a warning, sunk a finger in her soaked slit.
She cried out, unable to restrain her emotions as he kept stroking her virgin slit. Her hands clamped onto his upper arms as yet another finger entered her. The breath caught in her throat, her body jerking, her toes curling. Again, he smiled, pulling on a nipple and thrusting in at the same time. She gasped, then screamed as an orgasm rocked her to the core. Her pussy clenched tightly around his fingers, thick pussy juice pumping out as she lay paralyzed with pleasure.
He leaned over her, a smile on his handsome face.
"Now sleep. All will be answered later."
And she slept.
The next morning, she set out on her own, determined to escape the blatant stares and whispered gossip of the other tourists.
Achill was so beautiful that she could decide where she wanted to go first but late afternoon found her at Bunnafreeva Lough, a small lake surrounded by high grassy cliffs. It was so quiet that chills rode down her spine but so beautiful that her heart sang with joy.
This would be a perfect place for a picnic.
She opened her pack and pulled out a bag of crisps, a juice box and a packet of jerky that she'd bought at the hotel gift shop and ate while the clouds peacefully scudded by.
Finally, Erynne laid back in the comforting arms of the sun-warmed grass, closing her eyes and smiling at the soft caress of the wind.
Why couldn't the world be like this?
"Because the spirits live here."
Erynne jerked awake, sitting up and staring into another set of emerald eyes. The woman's waist-length black hair swayed gently in the wind, the fabric of her delicate gown shimmering in the sunlight. Her soft features spread into a smile and she leaned down and offered a hand to help Erynne stand.
"You're real!"
"Why, of course, I am, dear girl. Did you think me a ghost?"
Erynne felt stupid. "Uh, no, but ... "
"I see. You're not used to communicating with your mind."
The woman gave a small nod and smiled again. This time, her lovely pink lips moved. "My name is Melania. I am the Priestess of the Temple. Welcome."
"Uh, thanks."
"Well, we should be going."
"Going? Going where?"
"Were you not told?"
"Obviously not." Erynne took a long pull on her juice and gazed out across the lake. "Everything's such a mystery ... "
"Such as the dolphins that you called yesterday?"
She turned to the woman. "You know about that?"
"Of course. All of us feel the call of the Goddess."
"The what?"
Melania shook her head. "I am very dismayed that Iverna did not educate you before bringing you here."
"You knew my mother?"
"Why, of course."
"Then you would have known that she's dead!"
Melania stepped back, both at the anger in Erynne's words and the truth in them. "Oh, no! Please tell me that you are lying!"
"She and my father died in a car accident almost a year ago. I only came here because I saw it on the Internet." Erynne watched as the woman digested the information. "Mom didn't have a chance to tell me anything."
When Melania's head raised, crystalline jewels of tears sparkled in her gem-like eyes. "Then our fair
Eireland
is lost."
"Ireland is lost? How? Why?"
"What do you think makes our country so beautiful?" Erynne did not answer. "The spirit of our people. We give our essence to the land and it blesses us with its beauty."
"Then why is it lost?"
"Each year, the Goddess returns to bless the land. Without this blessing, it is lost."
Erynne turned and took in her surroundings. She had never seen grass so green or water so tranquil and blue. Even the air seemed other-worldly, heavy with mist and fragrant with the rich scent of the earth.
