phrase encompassing a variety of creatures, some
based on tribal traditions, most on modern imagination.”
I’m blown
away. Some of this I’ve read before. A lot of my books cover vampire folklore.
But I’ve never met anyone else who has read this stuff.
“No one
told Stoker.” I teeter on my toes, searching the mirror for his reflection.
Bryce
clears his throat with a raspy chuckle. “Folkloric vampires have little in
common with literary vampires. Vampire myths exist throughout all of Eastern
and Central Europe and references abound in scripture as old as documented
time. In fact, the word vampire is found in hundreds of languages, most
deriving from the Turkic word, witch.” He swigs the last of his champagne,
oblivious to my shocked expression.
“Perfect
choice,” he says, staring at my costume.
I feel the
need to explain. “I’m a fairy. An Irish fairy, to be precise.”
“The Tuatha Dé Danaan ,”
he says, matter-of-factly.
Bubbly
drizzles down my chin.
“The Tuatha Dé Danaan ,”
he says, “are remembered as myth, folklore, and are a perfect example of how
ancient history predating the written word has been twisted and misinterpreted
throughout the ages, making it impossible to distinguish fact from fiction.”
I can’t
tell if he’s serious. “Most of the books I’ve read paint the Tuatha Dé Danaan as mythical creatures who guard the passage to the underground, to the land of
the fae .” I peer at my gold tights and shoes. “And
look like this.”
“Today the Tuatha Dé are an important
part of Irish mythology, their story always evolving. But what if, thousands of
years ago, the Tuatha Dé were mere mortals, migrating people from an advanced civilization displaced by
a great flood or catastrophe? What if they were people no different than you
and I?” He leans in to whisper in my ear. “Who knows, maybe you’re a direct
descendant? The Tuatha Dé were tall women and men with fair red hair and pale skin, and your stunning
green eyes are a dead giveaway.”
I suddenly
feel like a stranger in my own skin. My hair is dark but my mother was a red
head.
“The wings
are cute though.” A devious smile plays on his lips. “You ought to be careful
tonight. The vast majority believe the Tuatha Dé Danaan were sensual beings.
You may get hit on something fierce.”
I scan the
room, feeling somewhat targeted. No one is looking in my direction. No one but
Bryce.
“I’ll be
your white knight and protect you from the demons that lurk,” he murmurs in my
ear.
I laugh
but my heart is not in it. Who will save me from Bryce Waters?
Nerves and
alcohol wreak havoc with my insides, my pluck gone the way of the dodo bird. I
take a sip of Champagne and gaze out into the room, people watching. Suddenly,
the room seems even more crowded, the notion making me dizzy.
“You have
a lovely home,” I say, avoiding his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear
the fire is making the silver flecks in his eyes spark.
“Thank
you. There is still a lot to do, much to update, but I’m settling in.”
“What made
you buy in Carlisle?”
“It’s 1625
feet above sea level.”
I stare,
dumbfounded, and Bryce grins.
“I have
family nearby,” he says. “I fell in love with the town ages ago, when I was
here to assist an archeologist studying the area. The Niagara Escarpment has
more than one-hundred sites of geological significance, including some of the
best exposures of prehistoric rock and fossils to be found anywhere in the
world.”
“Are you
an archeologist? Do you travel a lot?”
“I’m a
historian. I teach, but not here. My work takes me around the globe, although
I’m trying to cut back, to spend more time with family.”
A
historian. Hmm, my inner nerd is giddy.
“Aren’t
historians, like, book worms? You’re not what I envision. You got a pocket
organizer hidden somewhere?”
Bryce
tut-tuts me, smiling. “How cliché. I specialize in anthropology, the study of
human
based on tribal traditions, most on modern imagination.”
I’m blown
away. Some of this I’ve read before. A lot of my books cover vampire folklore.
But I’ve never met anyone else who has read this stuff.
“No one
told Stoker.” I teeter on my toes, searching the mirror for his reflection.
Bryce
clears his throat with a raspy chuckle. “Folkloric vampires have little in
common with literary vampires. Vampire myths exist throughout all of Eastern
and Central Europe and references abound in scripture as old as documented
time. In fact, the word vampire is found in hundreds of languages, most
deriving from the Turkic word, witch.” He swigs the last of his champagne,
oblivious to my shocked expression.
“Perfect
choice,” he says, staring at my costume.
I feel the
need to explain. “I’m a fairy. An Irish fairy, to be precise.”
“The Tuatha Dé Danaan ,”
he says, matter-of-factly.
Bubbly
drizzles down my chin.
“The Tuatha Dé Danaan ,”
he says, “are remembered as myth, folklore, and are a perfect example of how
ancient history predating the written word has been twisted and misinterpreted
throughout the ages, making it impossible to distinguish fact from fiction.”
I can’t
tell if he’s serious. “Most of the books I’ve read paint the Tuatha Dé Danaan as mythical creatures who guard the passage to the underground, to the land of
the fae .” I peer at my gold tights and shoes. “And
look like this.”
“Today the Tuatha Dé are an important
part of Irish mythology, their story always evolving. But what if, thousands of
years ago, the Tuatha Dé were mere mortals, migrating people from an advanced civilization displaced by
a great flood or catastrophe? What if they were people no different than you
and I?” He leans in to whisper in my ear. “Who knows, maybe you’re a direct
descendant? The Tuatha Dé were tall women and men with fair red hair and pale skin, and your stunning
green eyes are a dead giveaway.”
I suddenly
feel like a stranger in my own skin. My hair is dark but my mother was a red
head.
“The wings
are cute though.” A devious smile plays on his lips. “You ought to be careful
tonight. The vast majority believe the Tuatha Dé Danaan were sensual beings.
You may get hit on something fierce.”
I scan the
room, feeling somewhat targeted. No one is looking in my direction. No one but
Bryce.
“I’ll be
your white knight and protect you from the demons that lurk,” he murmurs in my
ear.
I laugh
but my heart is not in it. Who will save me from Bryce Waters?
Nerves and
alcohol wreak havoc with my insides, my pluck gone the way of the dodo bird. I
take a sip of Champagne and gaze out into the room, people watching. Suddenly,
the room seems even more crowded, the notion making me dizzy.
“You have
a lovely home,” I say, avoiding his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear
the fire is making the silver flecks in his eyes spark.
“Thank
you. There is still a lot to do, much to update, but I’m settling in.”
“What made
you buy in Carlisle?”
“It’s 1625
feet above sea level.”
I stare,
dumbfounded, and Bryce grins.
“I have
family nearby,” he says. “I fell in love with the town ages ago, when I was
here to assist an archeologist studying the area. The Niagara Escarpment has
more than one-hundred sites of geological significance, including some of the
best exposures of prehistoric rock and fossils to be found anywhere in the
world.”
“Are you
an archeologist? Do you travel a lot?”
“I’m a
historian. I teach, but not here. My work takes me around the globe, although
I’m trying to cut back, to spend more time with family.”
A
historian. Hmm, my inner nerd is giddy.
“Aren’t
historians, like, book worms? You’re not what I envision. You got a pocket
organizer hidden somewhere?”
Bryce
tut-tuts me, smiling. “How cliché. I specialize in anthropology, the study of
human
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