by Karey Brown
Nope, not gonna make one smart remark to this merciless tyrant offering me a day off. My luck, Mr. Evil will change his mind and decide today’s the day I learn escape from thumbscrews.
Male laughter erupted in her head. She reciprocated by mentally giving fang-face the bird. Laughter was choked off by threats and the damnation of all female kind.
“Scone, lass?” Colin offered, passing a towel-covered basket across the table.
Emily flinched. “Sorry. Daydreaming. Uh, thanks to O’Shay’s subtle hint, I’ll pass.”
Silverware clattered. Male attention pinned Aedan.
Colin’s mouth twitched. “And what has the wily beastie done ta’ ye’ now, Lady Emily?”
“It would seem he practices Maeve’s technique of kneading dough.” Emily stirred more cream into her coffee. Even the voice in her head abruptly silenced.
Colin dropped his scone with a thud.
“No, no, no, not real dough. Those are safe enough to eat.”
“Then, I doona’ understand.”
“He mistook my derriere for dough. Think I’ll . . . diet for . . . awhile.” Emily gawked. Aedan ran atop tables, leapt over Colin and dove out the window, deftly escaping Broc’s sword. Bellowing, several men dove after the shield guard. Broc fumed. Stomped. Cursed. Raked his hair back with his fingers, and stormed over to the window to watch.
“Is someone going to explain why O’Shay gets Aedan nearly killed every time I open my big mouth?”
“High time someone put that mouser in his place,” Broc grumbled, still glaring out over his upper bailey. Male shouting floated back to them.
“Lady Emily—“
Emily squealed, staring up at Allen.
“I dare say, you should be well used to my presence by now.”
“I told you to rattle chains or something.”
Forks clambered upon tabletops, and became airborne before settling.
“Uh, the idea is before you arrive, Allen.” Emily clamped her still dancing spoon.
“If you are ready, I will escort you to the passage where his auto remains hidden.”
Urkani towered over her until she accepted his hand, bummed her second cup of coffee would have to remain untouched.
“Good journey, milady,” Broc sheathed his sword, bowing deeply to her. “I’ve mi’ own hells ta’ attend.”
She openly admired the way his thighs flexed in the pale tight leggings, soft leather knee boots carrying him across the vast stone hall. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s my hell to be?”
“A day with Allen,” Urkani mused.
“Nothing is ever simple with you, Urkani. You lie and you suck at it.”
Aunsgar laughed, watching his commander bristle. Urkani inhaled deeply and visibly calmed. “You have mastered many techniques and your ability to ride and hit your mark with bow earns you a reprieve.”
“It’s killing you to part with a compliment, isn’t it?”
“My suffrage is great.”
“Thought Elves were above revealing emotion?” Kavan asked, having just come down from his night watch. The guard filled a wooden bowl with hot porridge before straddling the aged bench.
“Apparently, I’m a bad influence.” Emily waggled her brows.
“My lady, we might wish to begin our journey while the way remains open for you,” Allen said, nervously eyeing the Elves.
“I’ll ride wi’ you,” Kavan piped up, dropping scones into a makeshift sack of his tunic’s hem. Meowing erupted, O’Shay skidding to a halt in front of Emily and twining himself in and around her calves. Emily scooped up the heavy tom, nuzzling his thick neck, eliciting loud purring. “You want to go too?” O’Shay answered with pathetic mewling.
“Uh, I’ll stay.” Kavan dumped his pilfered scones onto the table.
“Why? Because the cat’s going?”
“Especially because the cat’s going. Trouble follows that mouser. Better I remain, and sleep. Startin’ ta’ feel the consequences of having been up all night.”
“I thought you liked checking out the Goth chicks?” Absently, Emily scratched O’Shay’s head.
Kavan glowered at the feline. “Ye’v no shame, O’Shay, no shame whatsoever. Mi’ apologies, milady.” A quick nod, the watchman gathered his food and quickly vacated their presence. Too quickly.
“Perhaps, Allen, you should take Princess Emily and uh, her cat before the Outlanders realize their quarry has returned to his mistress?”
Emily nuzzled O’Shay’s round face. “You’re in big trouble, fat boy.”
Several men erupted into laughter, choking into their fists when Emily eyed them. She was missing something . . . a big something.
“You’re coming with me.” She hefted the huge tom over her shoulder, patting his backside much like an infant. “Those mean men touch you, we’ll turn ‘em into kitty chow for you to snack on. Let me grab my rolls of film, Allen, then I’ll meet you at the drawbridge.” She giggled. “There’s a sentence I never thought to hear myself say.”
* * * * *
“I thought lightening didn’t strike during snow storms.”
A large raven cawed from the thatched roof. Peter eyed the pest, still annoyed over its pre-dawn racket. The hag listened to the bird then she turned around, put a hand to her brow, and studied the far horizon of twin mountains, their peaks lost in thick clouds.
Now I’ve seen everything. As if the dumb bird actually communicates to this woman. Jesus, this is a bunch of crap I’m saddled with.
“Today, you will see your castle.”
Peter glanced the mountains in time to witness a jagged streak of lightening. Oddest thing. If I believed in the supernatural, or had half a brain, I’d be on the next plane outa here. “Thought you said the castle was nothing more than legend?” Cawing disrupted the quiet again, the bird shuddering, its black feathers puffing. The old woman’s gaze shifted, encompassing him once again.
He’s a mean Sassenach. Just like the others from before.
Black bird dipped its head, agreeing, their mental connection continuing.
He tries hiding it, but stench of treachery seeps from his very pores. Once, Cianna, I would have cowered, terrified of his ilk. ‘Tis why I like this realm. No one can come up to a body’s home and tear it down. No one can burn you out, nor cast ye’ into winter’s snow, your bairns dyin’ from cold.
“Did you hear me?”
The old woman nodded. “Aye, laddie, I hear ye’; all o’ Hell hears ye’. You go on up to those mountains. You’ll find what ye’ seek.” Bitterness filled her tone. “When ye’ arrive at the village, mind yer’ tongue.”
“Excuse me?”
“ ‘Tis said the townsfolk be guardians of the MacLarrin. If ye’ are as rude there, as ye’ ‘ave been here, ye’ might no’ like what comes ta’ teach ye’ some manners, laddie.”
Peter marched towards her.
The elder’s eyes shifted. Flames flickered in place of irises. “Whoa!” Peter flung an arm over his face, and dipped down and back. He leapt from the porch in order to avoid falling. Righting himself, he looked up, terrified evil—
Gone.
Everything.
Radically altered. The entire building, now nothing more than dilapidated. Wraparound porch, he seconds ago stood upon, rotted with more boards missing than remaining. Snow covered garden had morphed into a dark, savage, overgrown continuous knot of brambles and vines.
And the hag with fire-eyes had vanished.
Overly large raven spread its wings, repeatedly dipped its head, and cawed wildly. Shadows swirled and thickened, reaching for him from over the barely existing picket fence. Sprinting to his car, grateful he’d had the mindset to load his luggage last night, he leapt in before realizing he was on the wrong side. Fuck! Clamoring out, racing around to the other side, he again crammed in, fumbled with the key fob and finally got the damn thing inserted, turned, and started. Engine roaring never sounded so good. He glanced back at the house.
Something st
ared back. Partially hidden behind grime-covered broken window. His skin puckered. Hands shook. Gravel and snow spewed from churning tires, Peter speeding away from the impossible.
“Cianna, go warn our guardian that trouble hunts his woman; trouble from the mortal realm.”
The raven took flight, lifting higher and higher before large wings expanded further. Feathers fluttered. Caught up in the wind, hundreds and hundreds of black feathers swirled, arced and spiraled downward until coming to rest on a long forgotten field. The old witch observed the bird contort into what humans would have screamed, crossed themselves, and ran to the nearest church, should they witness up close what flew high, high above. None would openly admit to having witnessed a gargoyle, very much alive, soaring towards a castle not seen on this side o’ the ‘door’. Last night, Lady Fate had ordained the treacherous mortal to be shown the way to Castle MacLarrin. So be it. But first loyalty to Hades decreed Cianna to be sent to warn Dezenial, regardless Fate’s fury over her deceit. As far as she was concerned, where had Fate been when her wee Robby died in her arms during those horrific Clearances? Hades had wrapped her bairn in ermine, personally cradling his lifeless body during her son’s final journey. In return, Hades had instructed Aggie that one day, his own son would need help—mortal realm help. “Hurry, Cianna,” the ancient pagan whispered. “Please get Dezenial . . . for all of our sakes.”
* * * * *
“These won’t be ready until next week?”
“Nay, milady. I ‘ave ta’ send them on down ta’ the city—Inverness.”
“Okay. Why don’t we make it two weeks? That way, no one has to rush on my account in this weather.” Provides the perfect excuse to escape Urkani again, Emily mused.
Allysyn’s smile ignited her face. “Tha’ would be verra fine, milady. Mi’ da volunteers with the other men ta’ plow the village. They’ll be at it for several days.” She leaned over the counter, and dropped her voice. “Snow seems ta’ fall hardest just after they shovel and sweep. They shake their fists at the sky, curse, warm their innards with whisky, and begin again. Fer’ years, he’s been at this.” She laughed, shook her head, and scooped up the numerous film envelopes Emily had finished filling out. “Have a look around. Ye’ might see somethin’ ye’ like before returnin’ to yer’ side o’ the door. Allen, your order of pens arrived yesterday.”
Allen dipped his face closer to Emily’s ear. “Don’t have much. Buy something. It’s how they make their living, winters slowing down tourists and profits.”
“Ghosts ordering pens?” Emily whispered back. She moved away and started browsing various winter gloves and knit scarves. Urkani had slipped her modern money, several hundred pounds, relaying that Broc had offered for her to buy whatever essentials she needed. These plaid wool scarves were lovely.
“By chance, did Aedan travel wi’ ye’?”
“No, just O’Shay,” Emily answered with a smile.
Visibly disappointed, Allysyn lifted her light burden of boxed envelopes and turned away. “I’ll get yer’ pens, Allen.”
Hide, Keer’dra, now!
Thought I was rid of you.
Cease your commentary. Hide. I command you to obey!
La, la, la, I can’t hear you. La, la, la.
KEER’DRA!
Emily’s hand flung up before she could catch herself; before remembering ferocious shouting was in her head, not her physical reality. Allen gave her a curious look.
“Um, maybe we should leave,” she suggested.
“We’ve only just arrived. I promised Prince Aunsgar—Henry’s coming.”
“Here now, we ‘ave customers and the girl’s—Allen?” A brawny man exploded from the curtained backroom. Gah, he could double as Barney Rubble!
Allen offered a slight nod, and rocked back on his heels. “Henry.”
“Och, ye’ ken mi’ Allysyn. She’ll be wrapping yer’ pens, bagging ‘em all pretty like,” he shook his balding head. “What can we do fer the laird today?”
Emily tried being covert versus straight out staring. How this man sired willowy, beautiful Allysyn was beyond what she could wrap her head around. Almost, she laughed.
“O’Shay!” The man smacked the countertop. Emily jerked. “I see ye’ travel wi’ a bonny companion.” He winked at Emily. “Come up ‘ere, ye’ scurvy weasel.”
“He was a sailor, decades,” Allen muttered.
“Think we can get him to say ‘ahoy, matey’?”
Allen deadpanned.
O’Shay jump upon the high counter, distracting them both. The cat stared down at the treat Henry had offered. Settling on rear haunches, staring stupefied at the small vittle, O’Shay cocked his head as if indeed curious about Henry’s offering.
“ ‘Tis no’ verra courteous ta’ turn yer’ nose up at an offer of food,” Henry boomed at the red tom.
O’Shay hissed.
“O’Shay! I’m so sorry!” Emily glared at the animal. “You’re rude, O’Shay!” Embarrassed, she gathered the feline. “I’m afraid he’s spoiled; therefore, ruined.”
“An adequate description of the creature. He’s also been sniffin’ around mi’ Allysyn.”
O’Shay hissed, this time swatting at the man.
“Oh my God! I’m so—“
“Ye’ yellow-bellied sea rat!” Henry bustled his thick frame from behind the counter. Floor planks creaked and Emily could feel them vibrate under her feet as the man lumbered towards them. O’Shay rocket-launched off Emily, running out the still open glass door from a customer having just left. “Come back ‘ere!” Henry stood at the entrance, shaking his fist.
“I’ll go find him.” Emily sighed, pressing her sweater to absorb sprouting blood where O’Shay’s claws had gouged her. “Give me a minute, Allen. He’s pretty good about coming right to me.” She made her way to the door. “Damn cat. All I need is to chase through town, looking the idiot in front of strangers.”
“I’d leave ‘im ta’ freeze,” Henry snapped loudly, obviously still yelling at the nowhere-to-be-seen cat.
“I’ve sure he merely sniffs around your Allysyn because he’s mooching food. I have to find my cat.” Emily’s glare had the desired effect as she squeezed past the man.
Cold, late noon wind smacked her blind. She needed sun. Texas sun. Snow was all fine and good, at first. It quickly became a royal pain in the—
“O’Shay!”
I should be like Brits. A grin lit her face, what cats were referred to here versus back home. “Here, pussy, pussy, pussy!” She couldn’t hold back giggling. Nor was she going to repeat that. “Just too awful,” she whispered to herself.
Red tail flicked before darting past a stranger huddled in a red phone booth, the man’s car still running, exhaust fumes turning the snow black. “O’Shay! You get back here right now, or I’m leaving you here!”
The man turned to glance her.
“Sorry,” Emily muttered, embarrassed she’d been caught yelling.
Recognition delayed.
The man’s was lightning fast.
Leather-gloved hand clamped hard across her mouth. Strong arm squeezed around her waist, forcing out the last of her air. “Move, and I’ll snap your neck,” Peter hissed in her ear. “Get in the car, Emily.”
Yowling erupted at their feet. Emily’s muted screams were to no avail. She flung her arms, and even tried bashing her head back against his mouth. Nothing broke his stranglehold, her lip now split by her own teeth.
Abruptly, Peter hollered out in pain. O’Shay wrapped around his ankle, sinking canines into flesh. Peter kicked furiously. O’Shay dangled, midair, welded to the man’s calf. With his other foot, Peter kicked the cat. It had the desired effect. Barracuda jaws released their hold. Peter commenced dragging Emily backwards, towards his rental. “Get in, or I put a hole through your back.”
Emily froze. Something hard jabbed her spine.
“How the hell did you get a gun into this country?”
“Know a few people.”
&n
bsp; “How did you find me?” She struggled against being shoved down into the vehicle. This time, the gun pressed against the base of her skull.
“You’ll drive.”
Feline screams and yowls erupted. Darkness quickly airbrushed the skies as if evil forces closed in. Fitting.
Peter yelped.
“O’Shay,” Emily yelled, terrified Peter would harm the cat.
“That’s your cat?” Peter swiveled the gun around, aiming at the enraged furball. “Why am I not surprised?”
“O’Shay! Get back! Scat!” Emily stomped in front of the animal. Sprayed with snow, rabid feline bounded backwards. And arched. The beast’s puffed tail swished side-to-side. Awful keening emitted from deep within its chest. Pupils dilated into black marbles.
“It’s almost comical. A cat defending a human. Touching.” Peter pivoted, motioning with his weapon for Emily to turn around as well and get into the car.
“Seems your friends in the store want to play the hero. Get in the damn car, Emily, or I shoot them.”
She couldn’t move. She stared beyond Peter’s shoulder.
“Get.in.the.car, Emily, or I swear, I’ll kill you right here. Your stupid cat will be fine. In fact, why don’t I just end his miserable life?” Peter swung around, gun raised. “Jesus Christ!”
A naked man charged.
“Aedan?” Emily squeaked.
BOOM!
Emily screamed.
Aedan slipped to his knees. His hand splayed his stomach, sieving blood. Suddenly, black barrel of death pressed against Emily’s brow, burning her skin.
“Get in the fucking car, Emily.”
She submitted.
Rear door slammed. “Drive. Now!”
“There are people coming out. They’ll be hit.” He’d shot Aedan. O’Shay was Aedan. Aedan was bleeding. O’Shay watched her bathe. Aedan ran from the hall, Broc’s men tearing after him.
“As usual, you’ve caused a catastrophe. I said DRIVE!” The gun pressed against the back of her skull. Emily’s bladder threatened to empty.
He’d shot Aedan.
“Plow through them. I don’t care. Get us out of here.” His voice slithered six feet lower. “Or I roll down the window and shoot them.”
