The Ring and the Bridle Chp. 15

Final Chapter

Cover5

[Image description: A black and white book cover entitled “The Ring and the Bridle”.  The cover has a border of Celtic knots. The title is surrounded by filigree. Below the title is a silhouette of a horse rearing.]

Eddie accidentally incurs the wrath of a kelpie when she save her older brother from drowning. Instead of finding help from the local magic community however she instead finds herself “being pulled three different ways”. By the old woman and her jinn who may have ulterior motives, the eternally young Scot with a guilty conscience, and most of all by the local enchanter who offers her a golden bridle to enslave her foe.

The choice however is hers alone.

She had to follow through, whatever the dawn brought. That would be the cost of every sunrise from now on.

Chapter Fifteen:

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The Ring and the Bridle Chp. 12

Cover5

[Image description: A black and white book cover entitled “The Ring and the Bridle”.  The cover has a border of Celtic knots. The title is surrounded by filigree. Below the title is a silhouette of a horse rearing.]

Eddie accidentally incurs the wrath of a kelpie when she save her older brother from drowning. Instead of finding help from the local magic community however she instead finds herself “being pulled three different ways”. By the old woman and her jinn who may have ulterior motives, the eternally young Scot with a guilty conscience, and most of all by the local enchanter who offers her a golden bridle to enslave her foe.

The choice however is hers alone.

 

 

Eddie drew Matthew towards the bath tub where a black horse stood. He was told this was Dougal and he accepted it. He didn’t question why four people could fit upon the back of a horse that could stand comfortably in a bath tub. He ignored Hala Nejem announcing she had just released a jinn through their front window.

He gave himself overly entirely to the throbbing madness around him.

Chapter Twelve at:

Ao3 | FictionPress 

The Kelpie

627px-Deirdrê,_A_Book_of_Myths

[Image description: Deirdre, a young woman with red hair, sits crouched on a moor. In her lap is the head of Naoise, a young man she loved.]

A young man walks by the stream

In his head a thousand burgeoning dreams

His crutches beat a tattoo against the packed clay

Laid down over millions of days

The water murmurs in refrain

Of the dragging toes of his right leg

Selene watches with a passive face

Her burning companions beaded into dark lace

 

She comes before him from out of the emptiness

That exists in the trembling of cruelness

A bitter filly, one of the Unseelie

Called waterhorse or kelpie

A tall lass with weeded hair

Her toothy grin holds despair

In every space between her great fangs

 

He shudders to see her

Yet bites upon her lure

Of devouring caprice

She draws him near

Her breath heavy with moss, blood, and fear.

“I don’t make it with prostitutes.”

She tells him his observation isn’t astute.

 

Her laugh is a thousand silver bells

A glided death knell

As hoary hands crush his throat

She knows her killing method by rote

She drowns him in the stream

His last requiem on Earth is his scream