Cimmerian Shade: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy Collection

by Kiki Howell

  “Darcaryn, “her aunt questioned, with the hint of a high pitch she swallowed down before she continued, “in that wing?”

  “Yes,” Kyna stole back the conversation. She could never become accustomed to having someone speak for her, despite Aedan’s good intentions. “He claimed the sound to be the keen of a banshee. Something about someone soon to die, or some such nonsense. And look, here we all still are.” Kyna couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice, no matter how hard she’d tried for light and sarcastic.

  The man had shown up with only the absurdity of bad news. He'd offered no comfort, nor barely an introduction. He’d slithered out of the darkness encouraging only angst. Good looking in a dark wizard kind of way, he fit the role of an enticing bad guy. While she’d have to be blind not to think him sexy, Aedan had already made her heart skip several beats. He promised reason and protection, where working with Darcaryn now left her a bit beyond uneasy. Surely, Aedan would be present, though. She took comfort in that. Besides, she’d resolved herself this morning to play this game out wherever they placed her on the board. Magic or not, she’d see this through.

  “How pleasant for your first night in Ireland,” her aunt apologized, her teeth gritted so the words had hissed from her mouth.

  “Yes, I thought so,” Kyna added with a real genuine effort to keep the sarcasm from dripping bitterness.

  She stuffed a hunk of bread in her mouth to force it shut. The jelly, butter, and refined white carbs promised a source of solace, if even just for a few heavenly chews. A woman could gain a pound a day or more over here if she didn’t watch. Guessing a good run wasn’t in her aunt’s plans for her day, she’d have to keep a tight rein on her stress eating habit. Her aunt, on the other hand, cut and moved food around her plate in between a few small bites. So, not a stress eater. She wondered if she’d find they had anything in common.

  “At least you met,” her aunt offered with a side-to-side bob of her head as if she still weighed the verdict. “After breakfast I shall take you on a tour of the rooms beneath the house. Secret rooms we practice in. So, what else? You said Darcaryn was only the first thing, Aedan.”

  Kyna glared at the dismissal. A jumble of nerves shook her aunt’s voice and hands, yet the woman sure knew how to control a room. With only a brief acknowledgement, her aunt had simply planned her day and moved on to Aedan.

  “As you warned, those supernatural hauntings occurred. I didn’t ask details so Kyna could hopefully sleep. So, you’ll have to ask her what happened exactly.” He’d given her a warm smile, and something sparkled in his eyes.

  As soon as her aunt had looked down at her plate, he flashed her a little wink. Her heart melted, He’d not only noticed her issue with being dismissed, but he’d also done something about it. Apparently, he also had a gift for reading people, and she felt like he’d sided with her. She didn’t fault her obviously a basket-case aunt. Something seemed off about her this morning anyway. Kyna got the distinct impression, one she would bet money on, her aunt just didn’t know what to do with Kyna now that she’d arrived. Excitement mixed with trepidation, she understood that just fine. Caution took precedence.

  Although she’d have preferred to keep shoveling food into her mouth, as everything there rivaled any American breakfast she’d ever been served, she explained to her aunt about the shadow person and the glowing threads. She continually reinforced the fact that her imagination and lack of sleep, plus travel, must’ve just made her hallucinate or something. Caused her to see shadows in her storm-ridden, unfamiliar surroundings.

  “They weren’t hallucinations, I’m afraid, though it would be easier to think so. I understand. Listen, Kyna, you should know, if this house seems haunted, it’s due to magic rituals performed by our enemy,” her aunt provided by way of explanation.

  “That’s what I told her, but I wanted you to do the explaining,” Aedan chimed in.

  “Thank you, Aedan. Isn’t he a blessing to have around? I’m sure he made you feel more than safe last night,” her aunt encouraged. “Anyway, this enemy, not sure I can explain them well. It is because of these people, this secret society, is the best description I guess, I truly called you here. They finally threatened you. They’d found you in America after all of these years. I received a letter actually, too. I couldn’t leave you there, untrained and unprotected.

  “Our family has long been cursed, plagued really, by revenge of some rival clan or coven. My father always referred to them as a secret society, one he’d gotten himself involved in for political gain. Who knows the truth? In the end of my father’s days, I was still too young to care about what sounded like the ravings of a mad man. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. Either way, powers or no powers, we fight a group who hates us. A long ago created rival we have no name or face for. He never uttered a name, only drew symbols, over and over again in his last days. But, I’ve never been able to find anyone to decipher them. For all I know, it could be one enemy or many different ones.”

  “Is that how my mom died? Some sort of revenge?” A wild fire rose in her stomach.

  “I can’t say,” her aunt stuttered. “I mean,” She cleared her throat, “I truly don’t know. She just...”

  Kyna watched the tears form in her aunt’s eyes before the woman let her head fall forward into her hands. Shame suddenly overwhelmed her. Her aunt’s emotion, not her own. So she had to wonder if her aunt blamed herself for some part in her mother’s death. On instinct, and with conviction to right an unnamed wrong, she gently placed her hand on her aunt’s arm. A spark flickered to life between them. Nothing like static electricity, but rather an actual small field of light formed where her skin touched her aunt’s sweater.

  She yanked her hand back, rubbing her palm again.

  “Our magic. It’s never connected before now. You’re so strong. I can feel it. I know you can feel me, everything I’m feeling. We’re connected in a very unique way I can’t seem to find the words to explain just yet. You must be so overwhelmed. In time, you’ll learn to control it. We should go downstairs to find Darcaryn and begin your training at once, before—”

  “No!” The word sprang unbidden from Kyna’s mouth. “Sorry, no,” she protested in a lower voice, still rubbing the her palm as it continued to tingle, warm beyond any heat she’d ever encountered without being burned.

  “Don’t worry, Kyna,” Aedan interjected. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. I may not know magic, but this magic society, or whatever they are, has no idea what it’s like to come up against a SEAL. I’ve fought all kinds of evil with all sorts of methods.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. Although, I’ll apologize upfront. I’m not real good at letting anyone take care of me. But, no, I mean, I said no because I want to know more about my mother first. I want to see pictures. I’ve seen not a single family photo in any room I’ve been in so far.”

  “We don’t have them. They’ve been stolen before and used in spells against us. The few photos that remain are locked away at a secure location where no one would think to look, I hope. We’d be better off downstairs. What I know comes from books downstairs. Even the threatening letters are down there in a part of the house only Darcaryn and me knew of until you and Aedan were told. The rooms we use to practice are far underground, past what looks like long unused, decayed rooms,” her aunt stated, rather matter-of-factly, and then rose to from her chair.

  “Wait. Tell me something more. I came all this way to learn of my mother as well as to meet you.”

  “You will learn of her downstairs. I don’t trust any other place to talk in this cursed house. All my life the walls have carried an energy built of dark spells and incanted demons. This negative collected consciousness is imprinted on this house and everyone who dwells here. A living projection of hatred and jealousy lives on a cellular level here now, having mutated into everyone who dwells here. We’ve warded, as in protected with spells, as best we could, but I still don’t trust. They’ve proven too powerful before.r />
  “I know I make little sense to you right now, but you will come to understand all too well, too soon, my dear. Even then the whole thing is so frustrating. To be cursed by an unseen enemy, unknown, almost impossible to fight, though I’ll never give up to keep you safe. It seems the more one knows and studies, the more confusing it all becomes. They probably want it that way. I’ve often wondered if my father was an evil genius, if he deserved the revenge. But, I’ve started to deal with the fact I may die never knowing the whole of the truth.”

  Her aunt’s words hung heavy in the air, like a thick smog. The haze of emotion invaded Kyna’s brain and formed flashes of images of her aunt on a floor. Kyna witnessed her own reaction to her aunt’s death, the screaming and the tears for a person she barely knew. She experienced the loss of obtaining information, memories that died with her aunt. Her breath hitched. She shook her head so violently in an attempt to dislodge the images that it began to ache.

  “I just don’t get it,” Kyna hissed as pain shot through her jaw, made her realize how tightly she’d been clenching it. “I keep seeing things, feeling things. Premonitions, I guess you would call them. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

  “It must feel that way if you’ve not grown up with it. You were supposed to be protected from all of this your whole life. I’m sorry I had to bring you here,” her aunt apologized, her voice sounding brittle, again on the edge of tears.

  Kyna looked up at the woman who readied herself to go, a lady on a mission. Yes, Kyna existed now as her only living relative, but she seemed far too frazzled and way too elusive. Something didn’t sit right with Kyna. Sure, the woman lied, or at best evaded the whole truth. Kyna admonished herself to play nice, even if only to gain answers.

  “Some of what you are experiencing stems from coming into a place where magic such as yours has always been used,” her aunt began again, her voice regaining its stern determination. “Ancestral magic enhances your gifts, even ones long denied. Mostly, though, this is the curse. Let me see if I can explain this. Think of a spider’s web, one hanging on an old building just after a strong storm like the one we had last night. While the web moves with the wind, the rain and winds don’t break it, as if the strands are made of bendable steel. Spells and curses, once placed, are similar to a web. They attach to the lay lines of the ground, where the energy travels, and then to the nervous system, the electromagnetic field in the body.

  “The body can only heal itself if it knows the cause and how to counter it. Here, in Ireland, for many generations, there’ve been very powerful spoken spells. In fact, people used to hire those who wrote poetry and who were also well versed in magic. They created a sort of unknown language, which made the magic even more powerful. They established a formula for hexes, curses, and even projecting spells like your shadow person last night. These people were ritualistic with strong beliefs and strong emotions, making them often a force to be reckoned with. Once the curse was placed, it worked with the fearful emotions in the cursed person, making them a victim not only of the spell, but eventually of their subconscious mind as well.

  “When this projected energy is created by a group, a collective consciousness, a demonic energy is used by summoning the little dickens and trapping them, especially when the emotions used in the spell are dark emotions like jealousy or hate.” Her aunt sucked in a large gulp of air. “Well, then it all spells bad news for the cursed. Thankfully, we have Darcaryn working on our side. Please, let me take you to him. I’m getting more worried as each moment passes, and I haven’t felt like this in so long. I need a drink, and the sun has barely risen.”

  When her aunt grasped Kyna’s hand this time, the spark snapped and crackled in the air around them. A slice of heat surged within her, around her. Her heart beat hard in her chest as she rose, a mixture of fears she didn’t understand rushing through her, wouldn’t even claim weren’t hers. She’d claim them as stemming from her own mind, a determined call to adventure, a barrage of angry frustration, and a healthy caution toward the unknown. All of these swirled like a tornado in her chest. Her aunt, on the other hand, had to be the owner of the dismay and distress that all wouldn’t go as she so desperately wanted, because Kyna didn’t yet have fully formed ideas about how she wished her future to go at the moment.

  She’d always dreamed of a big adventure in her life, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined such a place, such people. Like Aedan, if she hadn’t seen it, or in her case actually felt it, she wouldn’t have stopped trying so hard to disbelieve it. More than that, the power felt like a part of her. Something long denied that once accepted would complete her, make her feel whole.

  But, first and foremost, she wanted to know about her mother, so bad she’d just about go along with anything to get the answers she sought. She had this longing, a physical ache, to know more about where she came from, who she really was. So, it came as no surprise that she desperately felt the need to hug her aunt, to bring the woman some comfort while getting some of her own. She felt a coil of energy tight in her gut right now, and she hoped some answers waited downstairs rather than more questions.

  Chapter Four

  AEDAN AND AUNT Saoirse lead Kyna to another side of the house. This far end may as well have been another side of the world. Here, white walls in desperate need of a new coat of paint gave way to a worn, wooden center staircase with doors on each side. The flight of steps led to a small balcony with a dusty ornate finish just below the railing. The wall just above her, housed several sets of glass doors to what looked to be a garden area. In this end of the house, obviously neglected, no plush, vibrant rugs adorned the floor or stairs. No luxurious chairs welcomed with plush pillows, and no candles flickered to highlight such beauty.

  Instead, a practically fossilized rug rested under a table in the center of it all. Worn blues and browns in a rigid, matted plush were all it had to offer. No flowers graced this entranceway, only an antique copper kettle in the middle of the table and a few empty vases on the windowsills. A dilapidated brown teddy bear, once well loved, sat on a gothic style chair. The stuffed animal’s arms stretched out as if it begged for a hug. Seemingly, no one had given a thought to this décor made of cast aside items. Oddly, this side felt homier to her, offered more of a familiar comfort than the rest of the place she’d seen. Well used and country, she’d been raised in that style. Although, she figured she could do her best to easily adjust to her room. A quick grin at thoughts of having time for a swim in her tub faded as a wayward question realigned her thoughts.

  “Was this bear my mother’s?” Kyna inquired, even assuming a slim chance of a yes.

  She needed to keep her mother at the forefront of the conversation in her hope that at some point her aunt would relent and start to share.

  An odd croak, like trying to swallow back tears, was all the response Kyna got. Her aunt turned to her. Tears brimmed her eyes. With one arm she pulled Kyna into a weak hug. The woman’s arm trembled in a different rhythm than her body shook. After giving Kyna a brief kiss on her forehead, her aunt shook her head and released her.

  “Mine, actually,” her aunt whispered before she began her descent of the stairs.

  With a tilt of his head, Aedan flashed her a look of compassion, which, if possible, made the softened features of his face even more attractive.

  Grateful for the distraction from her disappointment, Kyna gave a, behind her back secret wave good-bye to the bear.

  The faded wooden doors, slightly ajar, showed two dark stairwells headed down to rooms below ground level. The click of a light switch inside the door to the left revealed a slightly spiraled staircase. It looked as if it’d been carved out of mud and sealed in a thin plaster that hadn’t held up its end of the bargain. A damp, earthy smell offended her senses. The yellowish light from a single, bare hanging bulb cast a sickly look over the walls. Claustrophobia set in, though she’d never suffered from it before. However, here, all that awa
ited her after the one sharp turn of the cavernous stairs was a solid black door.

  Her aunt yanked a skeleton key out from under her sweater. She wore the thing like a pendant on a heavy, silver necklace.

  “We keep this locked,” her aunt explained. “The servants think it’s for their safety, which isn’t a lie, but they think it's due to the nature of disrepair in this part of the house. Actually, these rooms have never been kept up to discourage people from thinking anything worthwhile is down here.”

  After the big door groaned open, the word disrepair, Kyna realized, didn’t do this room justice. The word, rubble, came to mind when she looked at the mess on the floor in front of the fireplace. Old wood and plaster, mounds of soot and dirt, broken plates and teacups, along with mildewed books and papers adorned floor. One hearty copper teakettle covered with a patina of old-world charm stood out among the mess. A picture lay crooked on the floor, half-propped against the wall, glass shattered to reveal fragments of a yellowed picture of a woman in a wedding dress.

  A potbellied stove had blown its girdle, bowed in the middle, weighted down by the pipe coming from the ceiling. Its door hung sideways from one hinge. The walls and ceiling were unlike anything she’d ever seen, even in the poorest of places she’d been back home. She’d only witnessed this extent of decay in photos. Light, mint green paint peeled rather than chipped from the walls in huge chunks, showing grey and almost black matter beneath. She imagined the past glory of the built-in shelf with the glass door, although now it held only a few pieces of stained and chipped dinnerware.

  The second room only seemed worse. Floorboards rose up as if to taunt her. Holes in the walls appeared portals to the same doom that must have befallen the people in all of the pictures hanging awry on the walls. Some frames had fallen to the ground when the mantle fell on one side. She viewed them curiously, the faces familiar though the clothes dated. She saw her nose, her eyes, her build hinted at in various images of her relatives. An odd sensation of belonging brought a slim smile to her tight features. A few candlesticks someone could surely sell for a small fortune if cleaned up rested among the mess. She fisted her hands, wanting to gather souvenirs from the wreckage.