Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel

by Alisha Ashton

  Without missing a step, Taran changed back to his human form – which was now a bit worse for wear. His eyes were closed, one of them swollen shut and bleeding profusely. He stopped and held onto the bars for support. When he spoke, his accent was so thick that it was difficult to understand.

  “Why in the fook wud ye nae mention tha she wis tortured?” He snarled as he struggled to open his eye.

  Miko hurriedly opened the cage door to let him out. His eyes were glued to the sleeping beast the entire time as he locked it behind them. He had no intention of risking her getting loose after what he had just witnessed.

  “Hold still, man. Let me see,” he urged, but Taran batted his hands away and collapsed onto a chair.

  There were deep lacerations across his face, throat, and chest from her claws. His arms, thighs, and shoulders were covered in punctures from numerous bites.

  “Holy shit, Tar. Are you gonna be all right?” Miko asked fearfully.

  Taran reached up experimentally to touch his wounded face, but instantly recoiled and hissed in pain.

  “Eventually,” he growled. “Fer fook’s sake, whit’s happened tae the lass? Where did all tha scarrin’ come from?” He demanded. His angry accent was still making it hard to comprehend what he was saying.

  After running the stream of enraged Scottish through his mind again for a translation, Miko shook his head.

  “I don’t know the details, man. All we’ve been able to gather is that she was held prisoner by the fògaraich for...” he paused and averted his eyes guiltily, “... a long time.”

  He prayed that Taran would drop it.

  Much to his dismay, the ancient instead slowly stood from the chair and eyed him furiously.

  Taran spoke with teeth bared and lips curled back in anger as he towered over Miko.

  “Right, noo how aboot tellin’ me jist whit the fook ye mean by ‘a long time’?” He snapped and glared down at the mortal as the muscle of his jaw flexed heatedly.

  “Best guess?” Miko began, tensing up for the confession. “Nine years.”

  Miko could honestly say that he was not surprised when Taran’s fist connected with his face... hard. But figuring that it was coming did not make the blow any less severe. He had to fight to stay standing as the room dimmed in his vision.

  “Ooww!” He cried, clutching his jaw and glaring back at the faol. “And what did that accomplish?” He demanded.

  “To tell ya the truth, it did make me feel just a wee bit better,” Taran admitted with a smile as he licked blood from his knuckles.

  Miko rolled his eyes and struggled to make his jaw work properly. “You know, it’s gonna be hard for me to feel bad about you getting hurt if you’re gonna beat the shit out of me!”

  “Oh? Is tha right, wee man?” Taran challenged with a brow arched high in annoyance.

  With a groan, Miko grabbed a sheet and tossed it at him. “And if you are going to punch me again, could you at least cover up so I don’t have nightmares about getting my ass kicked by a naked Scotsman for the rest of my life?”

  Taran distractedly wrapped the sheet around his waist as he paced the room.

  Miko watched anxiously as the ancient cracked his neck and muttered under his breath in Gaelic.

  Despite his injuries, Taran drew both hands roughly over his mouth and rubbed his beard in frustration. The dangerous glint in his eyes whenever he glared over at Miko made it apparent that he was still fighting off the urge to beat some sense into the mortal.

  “All right,” Taran finally began through clenched teeth as he held up a hand. “Let me just see if I understand the series of events tha led up to this. And please, by all means, do stop me if I’ve missed anything,” he urged with a bitter laugh. “First, ya brought this girl to my doorstep – without a warning – knowin’ full well tha she was aboot to become the epitome of all tha is feral and violent inside of her. Ya then let me climb into a locked cage with her,” he forced out in barely stifled fury as he pointed over to the cage in question. “And yet ya somehow neglected to mention tha her being locked up in close quarters with a man might bring back some bad memories?”

  Miko scrunched up his face, expecting another hard right hook.

  “In a nutshell? Yeah,” he answered sheepishly.

  Fortunately, Taran simply shot him a heated glare in response.

  “But we were all supposed to act like we didn’t know anything about it,” Miko insisted. “Skye hasn’t told us any of it. What we know, we had to find out for ourselves,” he explained, hoping to take some of the blame off himself.

  Taran snarled angrily at that. More meddling, more sticking their noses in where they did not belong and they had not even used what they learned to any good ends. Keeping silent had very nearly just cost Skye her life. He sighed and walked back to the cage. With his good eye, he gazed down at her sympathetically through the bars. It would have deeply grieved him, had he been forced to harm her. She was a stunning creature, equally terrifying and beautiful. He smiled, despite his injured face, knowing that once she reached her prime, she would be a faol to be reckoned with. He had sensed her desperation to take his life. Her ferocity rivaled that of any he had ever encountered.

  Miko slowly convinced himself to venture closer and stared in shock at the sleeping beast.

  “She’ll stay that way until sunrise?” He asked, thankful that at least her eyes were closed. He got the distinct impression that he would be seeing them in his nightmares, though.

  “Aye,” Taran sighed. “And if ya intend to keep up your charade of nah knowing aboot her past, then she and I will need to have a talk when she wakes,” he said, though he knew full well that she would not be forthcoming with any details.

  10: Caged

  Trees rushed by as she raced through the night...

  She smelled blood...

  Heard shrieks and growls at her back...

  A battle was raging, but she was running away from it...

  Not retreating...

  No – never retreating...

  This was her destiny...

  She was running to find the beginning of it all...

  To learn what she must in order to fight...

  Skye groaned as she slowly regained consciousness.

  Her head was buzzing with pain. She could feel the effects of a potent sedative working its way through her system. Most of the transformation was nothing more than a blur to her. The last thing she recalled could only be defined by a word that she had new found respect for: agony.

  Now, it felt as if her body had been thrown back together after being torn apart. Simply attempting to flex a pinkie was excruciating. She struggled to open her eyes, but found that even the dim light of the room around her was enough to sting them. At an excruciatingly slow rate, she moved each part of her body experimentally, testing her limits and discovering all sorts of new and unique anguish with each muscle she flexed.

  Weight shifted on the bed at either side of her and she froze, fearful that she was about to be attacked. But sensing her terror, one of the wolves gently worked his muzzle beneath her hand. Somehow, she understood the gesture. She had been tranquilized. As a result, her body temperature had dropped considerably. The wolves were doing what came natural – keeping a member of their pack warm. Amidst the pain, their presence was the only comfort. She sighed as the other wolf rested his head on her chest. They were calming her, telling her without words that she was safe, that she could rest, and they would protect her. Their fur was soft and warm. The mass of their bodies felt like a shield around her. She had finally decided to admit defeat and let the sedatives carry her back to sleep, when she heard his voice.

  “Ya and I should speak before ya go doing tha,” Taran said quietly.

  She wondered how he had known that she was ready to give up. Turning her head slightly and whimpering at the pain the movement caused, she tried to see him. It was no use. He was sitting somewhere farther out into the room around her, not close enough for her
to look at from where she lay in the bed. Closing her eyes, she fought to swallow for a long moment. Her throat was extremely parched, audibly clicking during her efforts, but refusing to cooperate. It felt as if she had swallowed a bucket of sand.

  “... drugged... me... ” she finally managed to croak, but was unable to voice the questions associated with that statement. She knew he would understand. She wanted to know why.

  Taran hesitated before standing and took a long time to approach the bed. Once he was close enough for her to focus on, the reason for his measured pace became clear.

  “Oh God,” she wheezed remorsefully, still unable to muster a voice as waves of guilt crashed down on her for his injuries. With a trembling hand, she covered her mouth. Tears rolled down her temples and into her hair as she sobbed.

  The wolves climbed off the bed upon Taran’s approach, brushing the sides of his legs as they went.

  “Shh, none of tha now,” he urged softly as he shook his head. “It’s all right, love. Really, it’s nah so bad as it looks. By the night, I’ll be just as good as new, ya’ll see,” he assured.

  Still, she fought to sit up, and so he sat on the edge of the bed beside her, leaning closer as she held out a shaky hand for him. She bit back the agony brought on by moving so that she could touch his wounded face. A claw mark of open flesh ran diagonally from his forehead to his chin, leaving his bloodied eye swollen shut. She stared at the wound for a long time before laying her hand on his shoulder and tearfully taking in the sight of the slashes covering his chest and throat.

  His uninjured eye watched her intensely, studying the tears that again streamed down her cheeks for him. It astounded him the beauty the woman possessed even in sorrow and pain. He understood her guilt; it was a necessary lesson for a pup to learn. Harming someone intentionally was one thing. Learning to face the fact that you had nearly killed someone, against your will, was a harsh reality to accept. It made you respect the beast that you became, made you understand that measures had to be taken to protect innocent lives during your change. Truth be told, Taran was thankful that he had been the victim in this lesson. A mortal – Miko for instance – would not have survived her attack. No matter how tough this young girl fancied herself to be, that would have been a crushing blow for her.

  Taran’s jaw flexed as memories swirled in his mind. Pups had ended their own lives for such tragedies. He had seen it many times in the beginning. Unlike the fògaraich, the faoil maintained their humanity after the change, retained their guilt and compassion. Waking to find that you had slain a friend... a woman... a child... It was too much for any person of good conscience to bear and none changed to faol had ever lacked a noble heart.

  After a few moments under her remorseful gaze, Taran shifted awkwardly. Even though he craved having her eyes on him, he hated having his injuries looked at in such a manner. They were inconsequential by his standards, barely at the level of a paper cut. He felt silly having her fuss over them. When he had first staggered out of the cage, his wounds had been quite severe, true enough. But many hours had passed since sunrise. His wounds had been healing steadily all throughout the night.

  “Here, drink,” he instructed as he brought a cup of water to her lips.

  Despite her attempts to hold it on her own, he kept a firm grip on the cup. With as heavily sedated as she was in that moment, he knew her muscles were not to be trusted. Skye closed her eyes, letting out exhausted whimpers between gulps as she eagerly quenched her thirst. He smiled as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She could barely open her heavy eyelids again once the water was gone. He sighed and set the cup back on the table beside the bed.

  “Ya should lie down, wee one. Your body’s been through quite a lot,” he said before gently guiding her to rest her head back on the pillows. She gave no resistance in her weakened state. He knelt beside the bed, taking her hand in his and avoiding looking into her eyes. This was not going to be easy.

  “Skye... I need ya to... tell me aboot your scars,” he whispered.

  In response, her fingers instantly cringed in his grasp. Her body became as rigid as a coiled spring, as if she hoped that by remaining perfectly still, she could prevent the conversation from taking place.

  Taran fought to form the words. His brow furrowed at the pain it caused to force the question from his lips.

  “Were ya... caged, love?” He finally asked softly.

  Skye swallowed hard. She had never intended on having this discussion, least of all with him.

  “Why?” She whispered, trying to sound strong despite the drugs and pain coursing through her body.

  But he could hear it.

  He could hear in the straining of her hoarse voice that she was trying to keep her emotions in check. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to say this, despite how painful it would be for her.

  “The wolf in ya responds to your fears. It can recall your past experiences. I do nah mean to pry, my love. Believe me – I, of all people, respect the need for certain things to be left unsaid. I only ask because last night, when the wolf in ya came to being... and found tha it was locked in a cage... with a man...” he explained until she cut him off.

  “Taran,” she breathed sorrowfully and covered her mouth again. She felt terrible for not realizing the level of risk he had placed himself in by staying with her.

  He chewed the inside of his cheek as he stared down at her hand.

  “The ones to harm ya, were they of the fògaraich?” He asked, sure that this would be a reasonable assumption.

  She nodded and covered her eyes with her forearm. The portion of her face that remained visible told him plainly that she was losing her battle to hold back a lifetime of tears. It pained him deeply to sense the extent of her grief. Closing his eyes, he kissed the back of her hand and waited, unsure if she would let him in. Minutes ticked by without a word from her and he feared that she would keep her secrets to the grave.

  “But it’s too early to be dark...” her haunted whisper finally echoed into the silence.

  Taran held his breath. The hand beneath his lips was suddenly gripping his own urgently. Though he did not understand what she meant, he decided it best not to question her. She would say to him what she could in her own time.

  Her brows drew together in confusion for a long moment before she shook her head, cleared her throat, and tried again. Recalling these memories was dangerous. It made things terribly blurry, made her lose her grip on reality. Even after all this time, it still wanted to pull her back. She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to keep her thoughts in order.

  “I... I mean, I remember thinking, ‘but it’s too early to be dark’,” she amended in a trembling voice and nodded to herself at the reminder. It was just a memory, not something that she was currently experiencing.

  That assurance lost its effect an instant later as a flash of what she had seen so long ago filled her mind. It brought with it all the emotion of a terrified child.

  “Because the sky is so black and I’ve never seen –” she blurted out in a shrill tone.

  A frightened sob was forming in her throat, aching for release. She stopped and clamped a hand over her mouth, shaking her head again adamantly, pleading herself to stay grounded. This was not happening now. This was the past. This was just a memory; it could not hurt her any more than it already had.

  “I remember I’d never seen such thick, black clouds before. The storm that came, it blocked out the sun on the day...” Her voice cracked as she fought back another sob, forcing herself to speak the words. “... on the day they took my entire family from me.”

  Taran raised his head slowly to look at her. He respected the gravity of the fact that this was the first time she had shared this with another. As she struggled to swallow past the lump rising in her throat, he held her hand tightly in his. Closing his eyes, he said a silent prayer for her and kissed the back of her hand as she continued.

  “They destroyed... everything I loved in a matter of
minutes. I was just a little girl when they killed me,” she whispered. Her eyes stared unblinkingly at the ceiling as she spoke, though they saw nothing. She shook her head and licked her lips. “They killed me, Taran. They murdered me when I was only 12 years old. Not my body – my heart never stopped beating, even when it should have. But all that was good in me? It died that night. And really, I was good once, you know? Good and sweet, I can remember that... being sweet.” Her nostrils flared as she forced herself to take a deep breath. “I still remember how naïve I was, thinking that my parents would get back up, that they couldn’t possibly be dead,” she choked out bitterly.

  “I remember the exact instant when I knew I had a choice. I could hide, I could stay safe and live through it... or I could fight to help my brothers. I was given a fork in the road and only a second to decide my fate.” She looked at him with pain-stricken eyes before turning away. “I never thought twice about it, though,” she said with a heartbroken smile, taking a small measure of comfort from the memory of her foolish bravery. “I gave up my life for them. I didn’t know what those men were or that nothing I could have done would have helped, but I tried for them. Even now, I don’t think that knowledge would have kept me from giving them every ounce of my strength... for even the slightest chance of...” Her voice strained terribly and she trailed off, steadying herself for the words she was about to speak.

  “He made me watch,” she whispered. “He made me watch as he fed on all three of my brothers, and he laughed as I screamed and begged for their lives.”

  Taran shook his head mournfully and watched her with tearful eyes. He ached desperately to hold her, to stroke her hair and tell her that she was safe. It was not time, though. She needed to say these things aloud, to face them.

  “When it was over, he locked me alone in a cell. He knew I didn’t understand what had happened. Then he brought me their bodies, so that I could ‘grieve’ for them,” she said, letting out a bitter laugh at the cruelty of what had been done to her. She wiped at her tears in frustration, only to have more fall to replace them. “Their hearts wouldn’t beat for me anymore. I cried for hours, just hugging them and pleading for them to be all right. Like if I just kept talking to them, they wouldn’t really be gone.”