by Tefft, Cyndi
The wind began to howl and a dark mist swept across the moon’s path. The air felt good on my fevered skin at first, but a heartbeat later, I recognized the stench that had come to signify the presence of the demon. Keen disappointment landed with a thud in my gut, blocking out what should have been fear. Aiden set me on my feet and turned, knife in hand, ready to meet the enemy at last.
“Why does it always show up when we’re…” I wanted to scream, but then the truth smacked me in the face.
It needs us to be connected.
My mind raced through the scenarios where the hell transporter had appeared and every time, Aiden and I had been mentally connected. At the cabin, I’d been sending him dirty pictures before the howling stench ripped the air from my lungs. In the music room, I’d reached out to him to say hello before the beast had burst through the door.
And now this.
I didn’t know what it meant or how we could use the information, but the thrill of discovery soared through me at having figured out at least one piece of the puzzle.
No more warnings! The transporter’s voice shrieked in my skull, batting away my newfound excitement. Wincing, I pressed my fingers to my temples and slid to the ground. Everything in me screamed to block it out, to run away, but somewhere deep inside my fear, I recognized that this might be my only chance to get inside the monster’s head. I curled into a ball at the base of the tree and concentrated on the thread of energy I’d felt upon hearing its hiss.
Show yourself, you coward! Aiden spat back, calling to the beast through me. My head throbbed with the effort to contain Aiden’s thoughts and mentally grab hold of the transporter.
As you wish. The darkness concentrated farther up the trail, snuffing out the moon’s radiance like a wavering candle. The connection flared briefly in my mind and I latched on to it, only to be sucked into the abyss of pure evil.
I was no longer cowering against the tree, peering into the black void of night. I was hunched over at the crest of the path, looking down at the Scot and his sniveling girlfriend.
Kill kill kill… The mantra seared my blood as I took in the pathetic scene. She wasn’t fighting. She wasn’t even trying. Worthless bitch. I burned to destroy her, the weakling who stood in my way, who was fucking up my plans.
Not for long.
My slitted eyes flickered over the Scot who stood ready to fight with nothing more than that tiny knife. Fierce determination shone on his face. My tongue lolled to one side in anticipation of what I had in store for him. If only I could—
He suddenly lunged forward and I had to leap to the side to avoid his charge. Damn, he was fast. My claws dug into the bark of a nearby tree and I swung into the branches to clear his grasp. He scrambled after me, fists curled into instruments of torture, hatred pouring from his eyes. I led him on a good chase, away from the trail, but I didn’t have much time.
My gaze locked onto the girl and a violent, lusty excitement soared in my chest. I would tear her apart, rip her limbs from her body and laugh as her blood soaked into the ground.
You will die tonight. Her whole body twitched and I knew she’d heard. The war cry that erupted behind me told me the Scot had heard as well.
I crashed through the brush toward her. She didn’t move, just shivered like a mouse before the cat’s jaws, but her eyes grew larger than the moon as I bore down on her. She was making it too easy. She was taking the all fun out of it.
Kill, kill, kill… The master will be pleased. I will be the favorite. Even if she does just lay there like a rag doll and deny me the pleasure of hearing her scream, it won’t matter. She’ll no longer interfere and the Scot will be mine. I’ll accomplish my mission and return to the master, who will elevate me to my rightful place.
A desperate longing for acceptance and appreciation clawed its way through my gut at the thought, but I pushed it aside. Emotion is nothing more than foolish weakness and the master does not suffer fools, I reminded myself.
Summoning the wind’s power, I flew forward with the speed of a raging fire and grasped the girl’s hair in my talons, yanking her limp body up off the ground. I wouldn’t have time to savor her death. The Scot was raining down on me. No matter. One quick snap and she’d be dead. I wanted to see her eyes as she died, as the light dimmed from the inside out. When she met my gaze, I froze.
I was looking back at myself. She was in my—
Pain exploded in my shoulder as the Scot’s blade pierced my skin.
NO!
He was too close. I could not let him get close. Slamming the girl to the ground, I called upon the darkness and joined the slithering black mist.
Aiden arrived at my side just as the smoke dissipated. The transporter was gone. My mind snapped back into my own head with the force of a mallet to my skull. My whole body shook with terror. Every inch of my skin crawled with the evil I’d been steeped in. My stomach revolted and I turned away from him to vomit in the grass. Aiden’s blade lay on the ground in front of me, slick with blood.
“Lindsey. Lindsey!” he repeated, dropping to his knees. Shock numbed my senses and I stared at him, not comprehending. “Are ye hurt? Can ye walk?”
I nodded, not sure if I could walk or not, but I was definitely hurting. Pain radiated from my neck down my shoulders, the byproduct of having been lifted off the ground by my hair. My legs felt like spaghetti noodles, wobbling beneath me as I tried to stand. Aiden grabbed his dirk and swiped it on a clean patch of grass before sheathing the weapon on his belt. He stood and lifted me into his arms as if I weighed nothing at all.
“I’m taking you home.”
The fog in my head started to clear and the aches in my body made themselves known. Nothing felt broken, but everything hurt: my hips, my shoulder, my head. I was a discarded, crumpled up ball of paper that could never be smoothed straight again. A soft bed where I could retreat and nurse my wounds sounded like heaven, but it also sounded like giving up. And now that I’d been inside the vicious beast’s head, giving up wasn’t an option.
I would kill it or die trying.
Most likely die trying, my inner voice chimed in and I slapped it across the face. I was not a pathetic weakling. I had a weapon now and I would not lose. I could not lose. Pushing past the pain, I realized Aiden had carried me nearly all the way to the car.
“We can’t go home. I can’t just leave Stephanie.”
He continued walking as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Aiden, stop.”
He finally slowed and pinned me with a look that said he was not hearing any arguments about staying. Cradled in his arms, I could feel the rapid beating of his heart and knew he was fighting to maintain control. The tension in his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders… fury was consuming him from the inside out, fury at having let the creature escape.
“I did it,” I whispered. “I got in the transporter’s head.” Excitement and fear bubbled inside me. I didn’t know what it meant, but it was something. Something more than we had before. And now that I had a hold of that string, I would pull and pull until the whole damn thing unraveled.
“What do you mean?” He finally set me on my feet and I explained how I’d seen through the transporter’s eyes. “Did you find out where it’s hiding?” I shook my head and he swore, staring at the ground. “So how exactly does that help us? The beast nearly killed ye right before my eyes! Now it’s gone and I’ve no idea how to find it.” The frustration in his voice was pushing my buttons, but I tried not to get sucked in.
“I don’t know exactly how this helps us. But now that I know how to do it, I can do it again. Maybe then I can learn where it’s staying.”
“Meanwhile, it’s trying to kill us.”
I shook my head, realization setting in. “Not us. Just me. It doesn’t want to kill you.”
“What?” He gaped at me like I’d started speaking in tongues.
“I don’t know. I just… when I was in its head… it thinks I’m in the way, but it doesn’t want to kill you. I do
n’t know what it wants.”
He blew out a pent up breath and ran a hand through his hair. “That’s it, I’m not leaving your side.”
As if that would help. But I knew better than to say that out loud. For better or for worse, this was my fight, not his.
“You’re going hunting next weekend,” I reminded him.
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” He skewered me with a look and I shook my head at him. “Mom is coming down and will be here all weekend, so I won’t be alone. I told you before, Aiden, I won’t live like a hermit. Besides, all you had tonight was your knife. What if you’d had Ian’s rifle?”
A begrudging smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Aye, I’d like that.”
Grabbing his hand, I pulled him toward the warmth of the cabin, ignoring the shooting pains in my hip. “Come on, it’s freezing out here. You can sleep on the couch in the living room. You’ll be up before Steph, so she’ll never know you were there.” Before I got three steps, he stopped and pulled me into a fierce embrace. He took a deep breath as he held me, then let it go slowly.
“I never want to be that scared again,” he whispered into my hair. The tremor in his voice sliced through my heart. Still, I didn’t have words to reassure him, so I simply kissed him and sent up a prayer.
Chapter 27
Mom came down to the school the following weekend, full of wedding plans and excitement. I had to hand it to her, she had taken on the challenge of planning a wedding in two months with a sort of fervor I’d rarely seen in her before. She had checklists and timelines, and she peppered me with questions about decisions that needed to be made. She took all three of us girls to see the seamstress who was working on our dresses, and I trembled with emotion when I stepped into my wedding gown for the first time. The seamstress had done an unbelievable job creating the dress from my sketch and description, and I blinked at my reflection in the mirror, hardly able to breathe.
It was a shimmering silky white replica of the dress Aiden had cast for me to attend the ball in Versailles. Hunter green beads were sewn onto the skirt in an elongated diamond-shaped pattern, and the tight sleeves ended at my elbows in ruffles of lace. The gown flared at my waist while the skirt split in the front to reveal a ruffled green taffeta petticoat underneath, the mirror image of my French ball gown. My breasts filled the gathered silken pouch at the front as Mom zipped up the tight bodice from behind. She stood looking over my shoulder in the mirror, a range of emotions playing across her face. A lump formed in my throat and I swallowed it down.
“Thank you, Mom. For everything. It’s so…” I shook my head, trying to find the words to describe the beauty of the dress and what it meant to me. “It’s exactly what I wanted. Thank you so much.”
“We’ll pull up your hair and have ringlets curling down the back…” Her voice cracked and then trailed off as she played with my hair and tried to hide the tear that ran down one cheek. Twisting around, I hugged her tight and she returned it, taking deep breaths in my ear as she tried to get a hold of herself. She sniffed and pulled back, smiling brightly. “You look beautiful, honey. You really do.”
Jen and Steph came into the room in their bridesmaid’s dresses and squealed in delight when they saw me. “Oh my God!” they cried in unison and hurried over to hug me. The four of us laughed and hugged, admiring the gowns while the seamstress waited patiently to finish placing the pins, her own face lit with a grin.
~
The following Friday was my birthday, so Aiden and I went out to dinner with Jen and Paul to celebrate. Afterwards, Aiden didn’t take me back to the dorm as I’d expected, but drove me to his place in the country instead. When I quirked an eyebrow at him, a mischievous grin crept across his face.
“Ian and Sarah have gone away for the weekend, so we have the place to ourselves, ma chèrie.” Ian had made it clear that I wasn’t to be spending the night at the cottage, so it had been months since Aiden and I had truly been alone. My pulse quickened with excitement and I felt a blush creep up my cheeks as I envisioned Aiden’s naked body—mine, to do with what I chose, for a whole night.
Oh, yeah.
He laughed and squeezed my knee before shutting off the car. “I’m glad to see you’re as happy about it as I am, love.”
He led me into the house and quickly moved about the room, lighting candles and building up a fire, which crackled and popped as it came to life. I sat on the couch, watching him and thinking of the many times he’d built a fire at the cabin. Sometimes I still could not believe he was really here with me after all we’d been through.
Satisfied, he turned to me with a smile. “Ian and Sarah felt bad that they couldn’t be here for your birthday, but they left some gifts for ye.” He gestured to the dining table and a small collection of wrapped presents there.
“There are three boxes,” I observed.
“Aye, one of them is from me.”
I opened the largest one first, which turned out to be a bottle of very expensive whisky from Ian. “He said you’re of age in Scotland so you’d best learn what true quality tastes like.” That sounded like something Ian would say and I laughed, thinking of him and his easy smile. Aiden opened the bottle and poured us each a glass. The fire water burned down my throat and pooled in my chest, reminding me of that day in between when we’d been playing cards and I tried to drink Aiden under the table. It wasn’t possible, but I’d sure had fun trying.
Enjoying the light swimming sensation in my head, I pointed to the remaining presents on the table. “Which one should I open next?” He handed me the smallest box and I unwrapped it to reveal a pair of golden earrings with three green gems dangling from the stud.
“They’re not real emeralds, but I knew ye liked earbobs and they reminded me of ye,” he explained with a self-conscious shrug.
I kissed him before he could say anything else. “Thank you. I love them. This one must be from Sarah, then,” I said, tearing into the last gift. She’d bought the matching necklace for me: a trio of emerald-green stones, each one slightly larger than the last, dangling from a golden chain. “It’s beautiful,” I said and kissed him again. He smiled, but something in his eyes told me he was not done.
“I have one more thing, if ye don’t think me too daft and romantic.” Pink tinged his cheeks in a nervous blush and I laughed, intrigued. “Maybe you should have another drink,” he said, pouring more whisky into my glass. I giggled at him and obligingly took a swig of the potent amber liquid. He retrieved Ian’s guitar from the bedroom down the hall, then sat across from me with the instrument on his knee. His fingers plucked a sweet, lilting tune that made me sway in my seat. His voice was clear and light as he sang.
God stretched out His hand
Created heavens and the earth
He set the sun and moon aglow
Made the ocean, sea and firth
Creatures of every shape and size
Filled the water and the land
And when He saw that it was good
He gave it to one man
And Adam there was happy
I do not know how long
Naming all the animals
And singing nature’s song
But God, He knew the heart of man
He should not be alone
In Adam’s sleep, the greatest gift
A lassie from his bone
I’m much the same as Adam
God’s given me my Eve
A lass so kind and sweet and fair
My side she’ll never leave
God made the earth for Adam
The mountains and the moor
But ‘twas my bonnie Lindsey
That He made forever for
He gave me a shy smile when the song was finished and I held one hand to my lips, my eyes misting with tears.
“You wrote that for me?” I asked incredulously, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. The song was cheesy and corny—just like the cabin where we’d said our vow
s—and I absolutely loved it.
“Aye, I did. Do ye like it?” he asked.
I don’t know if it was the alcohol in my system or the uncertain look on his face, but I was overcome with emotion and couldn’t speak, so I pulled him to me and kissed him in answer instead, wishing there was a way to show him how I felt. He startled as our lips met, and when I pulled back from the kiss, I could see he was choked up and a little bewildered.
He gave me a crooked smile and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I… well, you’ve a powerful emotion there and I felt it clear as day. I imagine that must have been what ‘twas like the night I was drinking whisky with your Da, aye?”
I cocked my head to one side, confused for a moment, and then I remembered the way his thoughts and feelings had rushed through me that night at the cabin before the skunk had sprayed him.
He stroked my hand, considering. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about that night, love and the things you told me.” He looked at me curiously and said, “I’ve a theory I’d like to test, if you’re amenable.” Intrigued, I murmured assent, and he continued, laying out the aspects of his hypothesis. “You know that we can send each other words and images, but I can’t tell what you’re thinking unless you want me to. Still, you felt my pain the first time I pricked my finger and I felt your emotion just now. You’ve had a bit to drink, like I had before with your Da that night.”
I shifted in my seat, waiting for him to get to the theory, since I knew all this.
“Well, I’m thinking that maybe the mind is normally closed off with something like a gate, and that we can choose to open it a wee bit, to communicate a thought or to send a picture. We keep it closed most of the time so we cannot read each other’s minds and we keep our feelings to ourselves. But when our defenses are down, either from pain or from spirits, the gate can swing open and let through more than we meant to show. And when that happens, ‘tis not just words or images that we share, but the fullness of our thoughts and feelings at that moment. Like we are one.”
