The fire burned hot enough to practically scorch Rian's face.
Is he dead? If Eochaid wasn't dead, then Rian was certain that the man would have at least greeted him by now. Right?
Once again, an intense, terrible pain lanced itself across Rian's chest. Hands shaking, he pulled his heavy blue blanket further over his shoulders, focusing solely on the long sweet-smelling grass, which he was weaving into a Brigid's cross. There was no point in trying to sleep. Rian had tried for the last three hours, succeeding only in tossing and turning.
On a camping pad next to him, Spiros snored under several layers of blankets. Quiet footsteps padded to Rian's door. Someone knocked.
Grip tightening on the cross, Rian said, "Who's there?"
"It's me," said Lavender, opening the door just a crack. "My room is freezing. Pyralis' fireplace doesn't do shit to heat her room. Can I…?"
"Yeah. Just take your shoes off,"
Teeth chattering, Lavender did this. Within a few minutes of lying down on the floor, her shoulders relaxed, as if asleep. By then, Rian had finished the cross.
Taking a flashlight, Rian ventured into the hallway with the cross and a long ribbon that he found in Niamh's room. It was pitch black. Wind whistled and groaned outside the house. Waves from the Puget Sound crashed against the rocky beach just fifty feet from the old, salt-beaten walls.
THUNK!
Rian jumped, nearly dropping the flashlight when a branch hit the roof. Quicker than a bullet, Rian darted downstairs, skidding to a halt just outside of Eochaid's room.
The flashlight flickered. Rian moved fast enough to see the light refreshing itself as he inspected the double doors. To Rian's relief, Spiros had restrained himself from painting anything. Instead, there were a few new decorations; on a cushioned chair in the center of the hallway and facing the door was a chair with black, silky fabric draped over it and a black stuffed dog. Across from the chair, on either side of the door, were two battery powered lamps glowing like torches. The blue cord still tied the doors shut, but now a selenite tablet was hanging from it and a small jar with mustard seeds. The air smelled like a church.
Rian inspected the tablet. Scratched into the pale slab of selenite were the words 'HOMENOS OHK KOURIEL IAPHEL, deliver from this home all evil. EHENPEROOU BARBARCHAOUCHE.' Directly underneath the tablet was a plate of apple slices covered in honey and peanut butter.
"Well… Goddess or saint. Whatever you are…" Rian mumbled in the dimly lit hallway, feeling somewhat foolish and shy. How do Spiros and Niamh do this stuff? "Just… If it's actually a ghost, keep Father in there, would you?"
I suppose I should be polite, like Spiros, thought Rian, running to the kitchen after standing in front of the door with the woven cross for several long, dead silent moments. While Rian didn't think saints were typically given food offerings, Eochaid always left either milk or colcannon for the Morrigan, who was a faerie and liked such things. Brigid was originally a goddess, so Rian reasoned she wouldn't be offended.
After leaving another plate with the last pretzel from that morning, along with a cup of milk by the heavy oak doors, Rian retreated back upstairs.