Broken: A Paranormal Romance

by David H. Burton

  “Did that summer mean nothing to you?” he asked.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. My heart couldn’t take this.

  It was broken. I was broken. I had never healed from that summer. It had been the first time I’d ever truly loved. I had strived for some form of tenderness throughout my childhood, and finally found it in the arms of a seventeen year old boy. I had tried to recover from it. The men I had been with after — the endless charade of unrequited affection — all of it had been a result of trying to find something I’d never had as a child, something I’d found only once in my life — with Jonathan. I had even tried to believe in the years after that summer that it had been only my imagination, that perhaps Jonathan had been like all the others, I hadn’t meant anything to him.

  I lowered my head. “It meant everything to me,” I whispered. “I never loved like that again.”

  Jonathan took my face in his hands and pulled me towards him. “Neither have I,” he said and then pressed his lips against mine.

  My head spun. My heart fluttered. I soared like I had when I was sixteen, to a place where there was no pain or hurt, where there was only summer bliss.

  Then he pulled back, leaving his lips to hover over mine. “I would give up the Summer Court for you, Katherine.”

  I sucked in my breath. Everything was so confusing. I didn’t know what to do. Here we were trying to save Chris and I was faced with this.

  I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t say anything.

  I kissed him again.

  In the middle of those fields, with my lips pressed against his, time almost seemed to stop. I forgot about everything. The birds went silent, the wind stilled, and the earth itself almost seemed to stop spinning.

  He gripped my arms and pulled me closer, his body to mine. Heat radiated off him and seeped into me like warmth from a hearth, enveloping me. My heart melted. His tongue found mine, and I felt like I had so many summers ago — like nothing could ever hurt me again. All I needed was here, in this moment.

  Then he pulled back again, sending a wave of cold reality to spill over me. I grabbed him to stop from falling over. I looked into his eyes, but instead of the warmth I expected to find, his eyebrows were furrowed. He looked around.

  “We’re being followed,” he said.

  I wasn’t sure I cared, but the sensible part of me knew that standing here in the middle of the hills pining for his lips was ridiculous.

  “Do you know who it is?” I asked, still trying to catch my breath.

  “I know how to find out,” he said. He started walking. I kept pace until he paused at a small bush with delicate flowers. He whispered to it. A moment later Brokk appeared.

  I smiled as he waved at me with his demure little grin. “Hello, Brokk.”

  Jonathan asked the little man to find out who was following us and let us know.

  We continued on. I was tempted to look back, but resisted the urge. That would be too obvious.

  “Howlers?” I asked.

  Jonathan shook his head. He took my hand as we walked. I closed my eyes briefly as his fingers entwined with my own. His hands were strong, yet soft.

  “No,” he said. “It’s not an animal. It’s something else. Something sentient.”

  “How did you know it was there?” I asked. I hadn’t sensed a thing. Of course, all my senses had been a little preoccupied a few moments ago.

  He smirked. “What you call your sixth sense.”

  I nodded. If I had one, I was sure it had been dulled years ago by Dr. White.

  “Just pretend like we don’t know it’s there. We’ll let Brokk do the work.”

  I hoped the little guy would be safe.

  We sped up, but everything inside me needed to know where we were going, and not in the literal sense.

  Would he really give up pursuing the Summer Court for me? Or would I be left in pieces again? For that matter, what was I going to do about Chris? My feelings for him were different, yet just as strong.

  “So what was that about not mating with a human?” I asked. I held up our intertwined hands. “Should we be doing this?”

  He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I mean what I said. I will give it all up for you, Katherine. No one has made me feel like you do. And I doubt anyone ever will. If we get through this, I will bond myself to you and no other. Nymphs almost never do that.”

  “You left without saying goodbye.” I could feel the tears well up. “Why?” My heart was flip flopping between the pain I had once known and the joy of reliving that summer.

  His fingers caught my tears. “I couldn’t bring myself to watch you go. It was too hard. I was a fool, Katherine. And I’ve had to live with the regret since.” He held me to him. “I will give you my heart if you will have it.”

  “What about Chris?” I asked.

  He squeezed my hands. “I can’t make that decision for you.”

  He left it there, and we continued on, walking in silence.

  Chapter 24

  The remainder of the day was quiet. We didn’t speak again about our past, about what we felt for each other or about whether we would pursue this. That didn’t really stop me from thinking about it, but I thought it best left quiet for now.

  To top it all off, this thing with Chris was wrenching at my heart. He had been captured because of me, and here I was walking hand-in-hand with someone else. Given, it wasn’t just anyone. Still, the guilt was there.

  As if reading my thoughts, Jonathan let go of my hand.

  There was a cool afternoon breeze, and I let my hair loose. The wind caressed my face and brought with it the scent of wildflowers. It was refreshing, if not almost magical.

  At one point Brokk returned to us. He’d found nothing. I decided to keep him with me rather than send him off again. He rode upon my shoulder, and I was glad for his company.

  As the day drew to a close, we descended into a valley where we came upon a forest with trees of huge trunks. With their drooping branches, like thick cumbersome pythons, I wasn’t sure how to feel about them. Creepy was the only word that came to mind.

  Jonathan’s footsteps got lighter. He had a spring in his step. “We’re almost there. This is the Kingley Vale.”

  The yew trees were eerie yet graceful. Among the branches I caught a few faces — Faeries from what I could tell. They didn’t have the carefree attitude I’d been accustomed to seeing though. They looked downtrodden and afraid. A part of me could relate. Was this how I was going to have to spend the remainder of my days, hiding among yew trees and stuck in some house? I wasn’t sure my life was worth living without my freedom. I might just as well let Morgana take me, or die trying to take her out.

  That last thought resonated with me for a moment.

  Could I accept dying in return for revenge? Was my life no longer worth enough that I could sacrifice it in order to avenge my family? It’s not like I would be saving anyone else. I had no child to protect.

  Jonathan took my hand. That elfish grin was on his face, with those dimples I adored. He pointed to Brokk who was hopping along the branches of the yew trees. The two of them seemed content here, safe. Of course, they had the option to leave if they wanted. I wasn’t feeling any safer — the notion hadn’t sunk in yet. If anything, I was starting to feel a little trapped.

  The valley was quiet. We passed a couple of human tourists and said hello. I strolled as if simply admiring the view.

  After another couple of hours, we came across a little dirt road that didn’t look very well used. I looked about to see if anyone was following before we turned. We were alone.

  At the end of that road we found a derelict old cottage, surrounded by an iron fence. I sucked in my breath. It wasn’t even livable. I questioned if it was even safe enough to enter.

  I stopped in my tracks. “Is this it?”

  Jonathan nodded.

  “Oh my god, what am I going to do?” I said. “I can’t live here.”

  The roof sagged, the windows
were long broken, the porch looked like it was about to collapse, and a small tree was now growing out of part of the wall.

  My stomach churned.

  I closed my eyes trying to think. What was I going to do?

  Jonathan put his arms around my waist and whispered in my ear. “It’s all right, Katherine. We’ll figure this out.”

  I put my hands over his and leaned back against him.

  I was really tired of having to put on my big girl pants. How much more of this was I going to have to take?

  I took a deep, steadying breath.

  You’ve made it this far, Katherine.

  I patted his hands and walked towards the cottage. “Let’s do this,” I said. “We’ve got to rescue Chris, and there’s no point in waiting around here.”

  I waded past overgrown weeds trying to find some kind of path to the door. I tried not to step on the wildflowers if I could help it, but there were so many of them I gave up pretty quickly and started trampling over anything in my way.

  I stepped on the porch with care, cautious of the roof. The door seemed to open without much effort and I turned back towards Jonathan. He remained back at the iron gates.

  “Are you coming?” I asked.

  “You have to invite me in. I can’t get in otherwise. There’s a protection on the house. Its owner must invite me in.”

  Brokk was standing on his shoulder.

  It would explain why Morgana couldn’t let herself in.

  “Come on guys,” I said. “Just be careful.”

  They followed me in, eager to see what this place was about.

  The cottage was small, unkempt, and filthy. I don’t know what I’d been expecting — perhaps something magical, something awe inspiring, but all we found was a dump. There was an old sofa with a couple of legs broken, a rickety kitchen table and chairs, along with some wall hangings that were about to fall. I took a look in the kitchen. The counter was littered with some silverware and glasses.

  The only other rooms were a washroom with a clawfoot tub, and a bedroom with an old four poster. I was afraid to sit on anything. In fact, as I had a glance at the ceiling, I wasn’t sure even standing in here was safe.

  I said nothing as I opened a few cupboards. They were empty, as were the drawers.

  What was I supposed to find in here?

  An old Brown Betty sat on top of a faded towel on the table. I removed the lid to have a look. There were dried leaves in the bottom. I don’t know what I was expecting to find, but then a thought struck me.

  I looked at Jonathan. “Oh my god!”

  Jonathan blinked. “Huh?”

  “The tea,” I said. “I drank the tea!”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  Then I remembered he hadn’t been in Aunt Marigold’s cottage prior to her death. Chris had been with me.

  “She died from drinking foxglove.”

  “Who?”

  “Aunt Marigold!” I could see he was as perplexed as I was. “Morgana said that foxglove wasn’t meant for humans. She switched it with Aunt Marigold’s tea.”

  Jonathan walked towards me, comprehension starting to settle in his eyes. “And you drank it?”

  I nodded.

  A whirlwind of thoughts tore through my head. If I was able to drink the tea that meant—

  I gripped the chair. It managed to hold.

  “Holy shit,” I muttered. “Who the hell am I?”

  I took a risk in sitting. I put my head in my hands. I needed to think.

  What the hell was I?

  Learning I was adopted was one thing, and that was enough of a blow, but now what? I wasn’t even human? Had Aunt Marigold known? I fingered the towel. It was soft, delicate.

  Then some pieces started to come together — various thoughts that wouldn’t have otherwise congealed like this.

  I pulled out the earrings. I’m not sure why, but my instincts told me there was more.

  I hooked one in.

  “What are you doing?” Jonathan asked.

  “I’m going back. There’s something I need to find out.”

  He didn’t have anything to say. There was nothing for him to say. He knew I had to do this, and it seemed by the look in his eyes he agreed.

  He knelt beside me and kissed me. “For luck,” he said.

  I removed the broach and pushed him back. “You need to wait outside,” I said. “I want her to see me.”

  “Then take this,” he said, offering me his blade.

  I shook my head. “I’m not going to need it. I think I know how to stop her. Or at least how to get some answers. What will it take to get to the Queen of the Winter Court. We may need to move fast once I get back. Chris could be in trouble.”

  “A toadstool ring,” he said. “I’ll grow one now.”

  “Then get started,” I said. “And be ready. I think she’s insane and who knows what she might resort to.”

  Jonathan studied me for a moment. “Be careful,” he said, and slipped out the door.

  I closed my eyes, getting myself mentally prepared. I still feared this woman, but I think I knew what was going on. I needed to go back to find out.

  “I’m coming for you,” I said.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter 25

  The first thing I noticed was I was outdoors. A summer breeze caressed the back of my neck. I was barefoot, but the grass was soft beneath my feet. I could smell the flowers as well as some kind of baked goods. There was a sweetness to the air and I quickly discovered it was because of a feast. A wedding feast, if what I was seeing was correct.

  A little ways from where I stood was a small group of formally dressed folk. I had no idea what time period this was, but the green puffy thing I was draped in fit right in with what the ladies were wearing. If I had to guess based on my previous trips back, this had to be the late eighteen hundreds — twenty-four years before the last death I witnessed.

  I wondered if I was going to be perceived by any of the people here.

  I continued forward, but no one seemed to take notice of me. I figured I was safe.

  That was until I bumped into one of the men. He wasn’t stumbling drunk, but it was obvious he was inebriated. The grin on his face was definitely due to the wine that was in his glass. The moment I saw him, I knew what family he was with. There was no doubt about his Gregory heritage with a chin like that. If I remembered from what Mother had written down, this one’s name would be Thomas.

  In fact, in looking at him, I realized I recognized him from somewhere.

  I actually sucked in my breath.

  I had seen him with Morgana in the woods.

  He paused before speaking, a flirtatious smile on his face. “Have we met?”

  “No, Thomas,” I said, “not formally.” I fingered a red broach on his lapel. Although this setting was different, the stone was identical to Aunt Marigold’s. I looked for Jonathan, wondering if he, or one of his kind, might be here. The broach couldn’t work without them close by.

  He almost burst out laughing. “I seem to be at a disadvantage in not knowing your name.” He looked at my feet. Something about my lack of shoes seemed to shut him up quick. “Perhaps a little stroll in the woods?” he muttered.

  None of the others seemed to notice him leave the company and make for the forest. Perhaps they were assuming he was going to relieve himself.

  We walked past a quaint house, and I realized this was the shack from which I’d just come. Its slate roof was in pristine condition. The ivy on its walls was lush and flowering. A part of me wanted to have a look inside and see what it was like in its prime, but there wasn’t time.

  I walked beside him through the forest until we came to another place I recognized, the clearing where I’d seen him making love to Morgana.

  He finally stopped close to the stream, just before the waterfall’s edge.

  “Who are you?” he asked. “You shouldn’t be able to see me.” His fingers played w
ith the broach.

  “Is Jonathan trying to protect you?”

  “Who?”

  “The Nymph who gave you the broach.”

  He looked perplexed. “No Nymph gave this to me.”

  “Then who did?” I asked.

  He fidgeted. “A woman named Marigold.” He touched my hair and then smelled it. “You’re beautiful like her.”

  He leaned in, and I coyly played with the broach. Then I removed it and pushed him back before he tried to advance any further.

  No way, buddy. If this was who I thought he was, there was no way I was going to let him near me.

  He laughed. It seemed fairly pompous. He looked a little nervous about the broach being removed though. He put his hand out for it.

  “Now, now, let’s not take things that don’t belong to us,” he said.

  “You’re hiding from her, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “From whom?” he said, taking another step forward.

  “Morgana.”

  He neither denied it, nor admitted it, but the look on his face was clear.

  Guilty.

  “I saw you with her,” I said. “Here in this clearing.”

  He swallowed and took another step forward. “And what do you think you saw? It was nothing. I’m a married man, a good Protestant man. I don’t consort with fey folk. It’s unnatural.”

  His face still held an air of superiority, but there was something in his eyes that said he was lying.

  “Today was your wedding day, wasn’t it?” I said.

  He looked a little surprised and tried to keep that chin of his up. He inched closer.

  I inched back. “And is she with child? Your wife?”

  I waited for the response I thought I would get, and not a breath of a moment later it came.

  An awful wail pierced the air. We both turned and Morgana stepped out from behind a tree, a look of horror on her face. Yet, she didn’t look like she had before. She looked softer, and her belly was a little rounder than I would have expected.