The tall, intimidating warrior that saved her in the club was gone. In his place was a fragile, broken man, pale from blood loss, weak and nonthreatening. Bloody hair, his legs laying at odd angles, and a blank face - his eyes were still shut tight. A tiny piece of her was waiting for him to open them again. Something just told her that he would be fine if he would just open his eyes.
Since he was the first demon she had ever met, Anabell had no way to know how he would heal or if he would ever be able to walk again. She didn't want to leave him alone, though. Not when he was so frail and vulnerable.
Lost in her thoughts, Anabell was caught off guard when Eadric reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it as much as he could manage.
"Rest, Anabell. Don't...” He paused to cough some of the blood out of his lungs. "Make me teleport you to a bedroom."
Still stubborn and giving orders. It was a good sign.
"Scream, shout, send a smoke signal, something, if you need anything. Please," she found herself saying. She reluctantly let go of his hand and walked out of the room.
In the torch-lit hallway, Anabell remembered that she had no idea where in the hell she was. The hallway only led one way - to a set of stairs going up, so that was the way she was going to go.
Up the stairs, Anabell found herself in a kitchen. One that looked like it came out before the Middle Ages - the only modern thing in it was a fridge.
It took her several minutes to navigate her way to the main hall. They were in a damned castle. They were not in Tennessee anymore that was for sure. Given the age of the castle, they weren't even in North America anymore.
A wave of exhaustion hit her out of nowhere, making her knees a little weak. The adrenaline and excitement of the evening had taken its toll on her.
Taking the main staircase, Anabell went upstairs. She wasn't sure what, but something compelled her to pick the room at the end of the hall.
The door was made of a thick, dark wood. From the difficulty she had pushing the door open, it hadn't been opened in a while.
Anabell was surprised to find everything modern inside.
Silky purple sheets covered the king-sized canopy bed with a matching comforter and bed skirt. A thin, pale pink gossamer fabric hung from the canopy, tied back like a tent at the foot of the bed. A cherry vanity with a plush cushioned chair and a set of perfumes in front of the mirror. It was like he was waiting for her – or someone.
Anabell found a white, satin sleeping gown in the nearby dresser. Looking down, she realized that her clothes were covered in blood. If she slept in them, she would ruin the sheets. The gown would have to do.
Once she was changed, she crawled up the foot of the bed.
As she went to lie down, Anabell was startled by the painting of a blonde woman hanging on the far side of the room. She was stunning. The perfect match to Eadric's good looks. She must have been his wife.
No wonder he was still hung up on her.
They were a beautiful couple.
A twinge of jealousy prickled in her chest. There was no way she could compete with that, not that she wanted to. Even if she did, though, she knew there was no way she would be enough for him. She was dumpy compared to the love of Eadric's life. He would never actually be interested in her.
As soon as he was healed, she was out of there. She didn't belong.
The need for sleep hit her hard again in a wave of exhaustion. She hit the pillows seconds later, not bothering to climb under the blanket.
6
It was cold. The men were out, most hunting and planting - Eadric and his best men investigating a threat, and no one had bothered to keep the fires going. All the female servants were working two jobs. As the lady of the house, she decided to rectify that problem, starting in the kitchen.
"Good morning, Elisa," she said to the cook who was already busy preparing food for lunch. "Is the hearth still burning?"
Elisa nodded as she continued skinning the small animal on the table in front of her. It was already mostly skinned, so she had no idea what it used to be. Rabbit was the most likely answer.
Walking past the Elisa, she caught a glimpse of herself in the window. Thick blonde hair was braided back tight on the back of her neck and her eyes were the same stunning blue she had only seen two other places before.
Inside her head, Anabell finally realized that she was in a dream - as Eadric's late wife. She willed herself to wake up, but she couldn't. She couldn't take control of her body or the situation either. She was just going through the motions.
Deirdre, that was her name, Anabell pulled from somewhere in her head.
"Mamaí!" the oldest boy, Bradan, yelled as he ran into the room with a smile on his face. A few weeks from ten years old, he was growing like a weed. Her sweet báibí was growing into a man right in front of her eyes.
"Where are your brothers and sisters, Bradan?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. He was too out of breath and muddy to have been playing by himself. On cue, her other children ran into the room, followed by a wet nurse carrying the baby.
Connall was the next oldest at nine years old, but he shared a birthday with his twin, Caoilainn. Then Ruari, six, and Meara, four. Riordan was the baby, just a few months old. He still liked to be right there with his brothers and sisters, though. It was good for him.
Connall was covered from head to toe in mud, Caoilainn too. The rest had somehow managed to avoid it.
"Mamaí, tell Caoilainn that girls can't be warriors," Connall said, tugging on his mother's dress with his muddy fingers and pouting. The two oldest girls started yelling over him and a pushing fight broke out.
"Enough!" Deirdre yelled, putting an end to their fussing. Using the sleeve of her dress, she wiped the mud from the end of Connall's nose. "Girls can fight just as well as men, my sweet. If they want to, that is. They can work just as hard as any other warrior if that is what they really wish to do."
Deirdre kissed each of their foreheads and sent them back out to play, taking an extra second to see her youngest before he and his nurse rejoined the rowdy brood.
Once all the hearths on the first floor were rekindled and burning heartily, Deirdre decided to stoke the fires in the bedrooms. She was halfway up the front staircase when she heard a loud crash.
She turned around to see the front door to the castle come crashing to the floor as several heavily armed men rushed into the main hall.
Deirdre ran up the stairs as fast as she could manage, hiking her dress up to keep her from tripping. Luck was on her side, and she was able to make it to the small armory Eadric kept just down the hall from where they slept.
Grabbing a broadsword and a shield, she ran back down the steps and sneaked out the open door. She had to get to her children to make sure that they were okay. She was just around the side of the castle when she heard one of her daughters scream.
Being discrete dropped to the bottom of her priorities.
Dropping the shield, Deirdre ran around the back of the castle to see the men with her children and the servants rounded up.
"The lady of the house finally joins us," Quinlan Woulfe, the head of the nearby Woulfe clan, who was engaged in a bitter struggle with their clan, said, a smarmy look on his scrunched face. With a few quick motions, he instructed his soldiers to apprehend her. The sword in her hand stopped them, for half a second.
"Taking the coward's way, Quinlan. Only a coward lures the able-bodied men away so he can harass unarmed women and children. You are a disgusting waste of a man," Deirdre taunted, pointing her sword in his direction. The slick look turned to a snarl. He barked orders for the men to disarm her. The first was too fast and too clumsy, underestimating her as a woman.
She held the sword like Eadric taught her to, running him through almost immediately. He went down hard.
She was a little pre-occupied removing her sword from the first man when the second one struck her side with his sword. It was mostly superficial, but it hurt nonetheless.
&nb
sp; Her sword was free before he could make another blow to her body. She took a few shoulder blows and he took one to the face and one to his legs. Just as she was about to deliver a killing blow, two more men were on her. She was good, but not three on one good. After a few nasty blows to the back and torso, they finally disarmed her and forced her to her knees.
Deirdre looked over at her children for the first time since she got outside. They were rounded up together, surrounded by five soldiers to keep them in place along with a few of the women that worked for them. Instead of looking terrified like she thought they would, the five of them were calm. Five. Not six. There was one child missing. Riordan. And his wet nurse.
A flicker of hope relit in her heart. One of her sweet children was going to survive it. Her sweet, tiny boy was out there in the world safe from this vile man and his soldiers. And Eadric. Her loving husband was safe. She knew in her heart that there was no way he would get back in time to save them. One thing Quinlan could do right was plan. Eadric would be too late. She just wished that he wouldn’t be the one to find them.
“Not so tough, ice queen, now that you’re on your knees in front of me,” Quinlan said as he walked over to stand in front of her. Snatching her by the chin, he forced her to look at him. Instead of replying, Deirdre spat at him, hitting him on the arm. “Wretch.” He backhanded her, hard, making her youngest girl bite back a scream.
Quinlan had the men bring her children closer. She could almost touch them if she could just reach out. All five sets of eyes looked at her. The boys knew what was happening, the girls too, just on a lesser level. They knew they were never going to make it. Even babes have their moments of clarity.
I love you, Deirdre mouthed to them, hot tears leaking from the corners of her eyes and burning a path down her face. They nodded back at her, letting her know that they understood.
“Leave my máthair alone!” Bradan screamed, launching himself at the closest man. Deirdre felt her heart break. Bradan was tossed onto his back on the ground hard. He still got up, though, and tried again. This time, they wasted no time in using a sword on him.
"If you have to kill us. If this is your vile, ugly plan, kill me last," Deirdre pleaded, trying not to break down at the sight of her firstborn's lifeless body. "And be swift. They are just children. There is no need to drag out their suffering."
For once, Quinlan was merciful. He went from oldest to youngest, slitting their throats expertly so that they bled out in seconds. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She owed it to her children to watch their last moments, to be there for them as they took their last breaths in the world. They went without screaming or sobbing.
Graceful to the very end.
She was ready for it to be her turn.
"Kill me now so I can be with them," Deirdre said, looking up at her captors defiantly.
Quinlan snatched her chin again, lifting it so she nearly had to come off her knees to keep him from hurting her.
"And what if I don't want to kill you, sweet lady? Eadric always had an eye for beautiful women. There's not enough beauty in my castle right now, perhaps you would prefer if I spared your life and let you live out the rest of your days with me." He stroked a long, spindly finger down her cheek. She fought back a shudder.
Deirdre held a fierce glare on her face, willing her stubbornness to the surface, as she wrenched her chin back out of his grasp.
"I will never let that happen." Deirdre was a blur as she snatched a dagger from the soldier beside her. Before anyone around he knew what was going on, she pulled back the dagger and plunged it as hard as she could into her abdomen, just under her ribs. She punctured something right away.
Pain blossomed behind her eyes, like a star-burst of light, knocking her onto her back on the ground.
"You stupid woman! You would rather die than live in the luxury of my home?" Quinlan barked.
"Yes." She heard him grumble something else at her, but it was lost on her ears. It was taking all of her strength to still be conscious. Listening was a luxury that she just didn't have.
Deirdre laid there for a while. She didn't notice when Quinlan and his men left. She just needed to hang on long enough to see Eadric one more time. That was the only thing she wanted. It was almost dark when she finally heard the sounds of men marching back and shouts of victory - that quickly turned to cries of despair.
Eadric was at her side a moment later, scooping her into his arms.
"Deirdre, you can't do this to me," he cried into her hair. The softest sound escaped from her mouth as he sobbed. She had to talk to him one more time. It was barely a whisper, but she knew that he heard it.
"Let me go," she whispered as the last ray of light left her eyes and she fell completely limp in his arms.
Anabell was thrown out of the dream with a harsh push. Opening her eyes, she almost forgot where she was. She sat up straight and touched her face and hair, making sure that everything was the way it was supposed to be. Thick dark curls, small nose, normal lips, chin. Then, she felt around at the bottom of her rib cage. The stab had felt so real that she was terrified that she hadn't dreamed that part. She was thankful to find that it was just part of the dream. She was okay.
The painting wasn’t. The frame was smashed into several pieces on the floor, and the painting had slid a few feet from it, half under a dresser. She made a mental note to pick it up later.
Looking around the rest of the room, Anabell was thankful for the fire burning in the far corner of the room. It was already dark outside, and there was a cool chill in the air.
Her thoughts suddenly went to Eadric. The basement, or dungeon, had to be much colder than the room she was in, and his body wasn't in any condition to keep itself warm. She had to check on him.
Anabell hopped out of bed, regretting that she hadn't slept with her socks on because stone floors didn't hold warmth.
She only had the one set of clothes, so they would have to do for another day, bloody as they were. She was sure Eadric wouldn't mind. She changed as fast as she could, wanting to expose as little skin to the air as possible.
Finally dressed, Anabell turned to leave the room when she saw a man standing in the corner.
"Hello, Anabell," the strange man said as he walked out of the shadows. His brown hair was spiked on top of his head, leaving his dark brown eyes visible to the room. He was dressed casually in a dark gray shirt and a pair of dark wash jeans. Everything about him looked normal, except the penny loafers on his feet, but something told Anabell that the man in front of her was anything but.
"What are you doing in here? Were you watching me change?” Anabell asked, trying hard not to shriek and alarm Eadric. "Who are you"?
He laughed and shook his head as he took a few more steps towards her. Every step he took forward, she took another back until she was almost to the window.
"Before you push yourself out the window, and I have to explain to Eadric what happened to his reincarnated soul mate, could you calm down? The last thing I want to do is hurt you. It's counterproductive." He pulled out the vanity chair and motioned for her to take a seat in it.
"Fine." She dropped into it unceremoniously, glaring as she waited for him to speak again.
"There are still a few things you need to know about Eadric before you make a decision." As she opened her mouth to ask about it, she was thrown into another round of flashbacks.
Anabell felt Eadric's pain from finding his wife and children killed, the hope wrapped in despair that his youngest was able to get out safely, and the gut-wrenching anger at the men who had done that to his family. She saw him sell his soul, and then raze the entire village of the clan that wronged him. He was especially cruel to Quinlan, chaining him to a dungeon wall in his own castle - without food or drink or anyone to check on him. His enemy died a slow, painful, horrible death.
Eadric didn’t miss a single moment of it.
Just when she thought she was coming out of it to catch her breath, she was tossed
into another flashback. She was getting very tired of being in someone else’s head.
Somehow, Anabell knew it was the day she was born from inside Eadric's memory. He had only been awake for a few hours when his legs went weak and he crashed to the floor - it felt like someone had punched a hole in his heart. But then, he felt her. He knew, he just knew, that his soul mate was born back into the world.
It was a strong pulse for a few moments, but then it faded to a dull awareness. He didn't know if he could wait eighteen years to see her face, but he did.
Eadric had planned to swoop in on her eighteenth birthday and woo her until she agreed to be with him - Don Juan, Casanova - but everything changed when he saw her. She was so petite and fragile and new to the world. And he was old and jaded. She had barely seen the world - he couldn't take the opportunity to grow away from her. Still, he bought a house in the area because he couldn't bear to be far away from her anymore.
The last flash was the night before, at the club. Eadric hadn't planned on going there. That is, until he was overwhelmed by the feeling of dread. Something was going to happen. He just knew he had to be there for her. But she still felt the jealousy that burned hot in his veins watching her dancing with another man.
Anabell was thrown back out of the flashbacks just as hard as she had been thrown out of the dream. It was a miracle that she didn't end up face down in the floor.
"Lugh," she said when she got another look at him, recognizing his presence from one of Eadric’s memories.
"In the flesh." Anabell righted herself and stood up to face him.
"Why did you need to show me that?" Lugh rolled his eyes at her and gave her a blank stare. Surely, she wasn't that slow.
"Because Eadic deserves to be happy. Of all the souls I’ve bartered for, his is the one I regret holding onto the most. No man should have to live to see his entire family slaughtered. Whether you choose to acknowledge it or not, you are the living vessel that contains the soul that is tied to his. Soul mates, whether you choose to accept.” Anabell shook her head.
A Thousand Years (Soulmates Book 1) Page 4
