One in a Million
One in a Million
In the Mag Mell
Dian Cecht arrives outside the stone cottage with its rocking chair, front porch and wood pile in the front yard. He scans the perfection he created for Quinn. It is calm and tranquil here. Maybe he will settle down in a place similar to this, eventually. Eventually is a long time away, he thinks as his feet barely creak on the front porch. He is the only thing moving in this tranquility.
Inside the cottage, the flame in the woodburning fireplace emanates no heat and does not flicker. The flame on the stove acts the same. The stew in the pot formed a single bubble that is clingy to the verge of popping. Dian Cecht releases the flame on the stove from its frozen state and the stew begins to boil again, the bubble finally bursting. He smiles at the fragrant aroma wafting from the beef and vegetable concoction.
He turns his attention to the bedroom at the right of the kitchen. A baby snuggles in a crib, appearing to be sleeping. Dian Cecht knows otherwise. He places his hand on the infant’s back and feels the child’s breath return. The small heartbeat thunders in Dian Cecht’s ears. Something so small and fragile is causing an exorbitant amount of unnecessary trouble. The infant stirs and Dian Cecht soothes him back to sleep.
As Dian Cecht walks back through the kitchen, he turns the flame down on the stove. He notes the chill in the air and unfreezes the fire in the fireplace. Light and heat burst into the room. He floats into the next room and takes in the scene. Before him, Alroy looms over Quinn. Her body sinks into the mattress while his hand dangles above her throat. A scream parts her lips but has not made it to the air. Her eyes succumb to terror. Alroy’s eyes dance with evil and lust.
Dian Cecht rearranges the violent stage before contemplating releasing the actors. He easily pulls Alroy into an upright position. The giant man is then placed in a corner chair, his legs crossed and hands folded in his lap. Dian Cecht gently lifts Quinn from the bed. He carries her to the far corner of the room, away from Alroy. She stands facing out into the room, terror still coloring her eyes. Dian Cecht softly kisses her forehead and a deep sigh escapes her lungs. Quinn blinks to life and falls towards the wall. Dian Cecht catches her. She shudders and fights against his hold.
“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Quinn pushes against the deity’s chest trying to force her way free.
“Everything is alright,” Dian Cecht tries to hold Quinn still.
“Alright…,” Quinn’s eyes catch the figure sitting in the corner of the room. Her face pales and Dian Cecht feels the heat leave her body. She shivers and turns her attention back to the deity holding her.
“Are you with him?” The words are barely audible as they trickle from her lips.
“Of course not,” Dian Cecht replies, hugging Quinn closer to him to warm her up.
Quinn knots her eyebrows and lifts weary eyes to the man whose arms she is entangled in, “Why does he not move?”
“I froze him,” Dian Cecht quips.
“Froze him?” The question lingers in the air as Dian Cecht lowers Quinn to the floor. He waits for her to steady herself before releasing her from his hold.
“Let me introduce myself,” Dian Cecht bows slightly and takes Quinn’s hand. “My name is Dian Cecht, the god of healing.” He kisses Quinn’s hand.
“God of healing?” She questions. “Like God god?”
“Well, not God god. I’m a god of the Fae. Celtic. Been around for longer than I care to remember.” He smiles.
“Why are you here?” Quinn shakes her hand free of his hold. Just what she needs, another mystical entity with an unholy attraction for her.
“I have no romantic or sexual interest in you, Miss Duffy. Technically, you are my niece.” Dian Cecht laughs.
Quinn wonders if her face is giving away her feelings or if this deity can read her mind, she begins to speak when he answers, “Both!”
Quinn sighs in frustration. ‘Can everyone just stay out of my head?” She scowls at Dian Cecht. “Sometimes things should just remain inner thoughts.”
He throws his head back and cackles boisterously. “Alright, little one.” He shakes his head. “As you wish.”
“So, again. Why are you here and why is he frozen?’ Quinn points to Alroy.
“I am here to take you home,” Dian Cecht turns his attention to Alroy. “He is frozen to protect you.”
From the other room, the sound of a baby crying carries to Quinn’s ears. She stops her conversation, forgetting about Dian Cecht and Alroy. Her legs work quickly to carry her out of the room and plant her over her son’s crib.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” She scoops him from the crib and cradles him in her arms. Her cheek brushes against his cheek. She coos to quiet his tears. Soon he is calm, but his mouth forms a circle making a sucking noise.
“I believe he is hungry,” Dian Cecht comments from the doorway. Quinn jumps, unaware the deity was hovering nearby.
Quinn collects herself then says, “I believe you are right.” She settles into the chair in the corner of the room and glances towards Dian Cecht. “May we have a bit of privacy?”
“I have seen millions of babies feed,” Dian Cecht responds.
“Well, I do not wish to be another one of millions.” Quinn replies snidely.
“As you wish,” Dian Cecht backs out of the nursery doorway and stands in the middle of the kitchen. He contemplates what to do with the behemoth of a man frozen in the far room. Lost in his thoughts, Dian Cecht fails to detect the old crone materializing in the corner of the room. By the time he realizes she is there, the old hag descends on him. Her hands grasp for his throat.