“I’m not leaving you!” he raged, his hands tugging at the slack in the rope.
“You’re feckin’ mad, son!” he said with spit splattering from his lips, his chest bursting forward. “Her venom pulses through my veins. I’m turning into aged meat!”
“Quit it, Dad! Has she sucked your blood three times yet?”
“No,” his face fell, pausing for a moment, “just the once.”
“Then there’s still a chance,” stated Fergus, drawing a knife out of his belt, sawing at the thick rope as fast as he could.
Lainahwyn’s voice carried through the tunnel, sweet notes of her song, singing in our ears, lulling us into her rapture.
“I snared an old one recently,” she said in a sing-song voice. “He smells of whiskey. Why do the old ones always smell of whiskey?”
The three of us backed away slowly from the direction of her voice, but it was too late. Three Màrmann had spotted us.
I froze with an eerie sense of dread creeping up my spine.
I whirled around and began to race through the bleak tunnel, listening to the echo of my footsteps bouncing off the labyrinth’s walls, fearing the Màrmann would catch up to us, only to realize I was running all by myself. I spun around, observing Fergus wrestling two of the Màrmann, his fingers curled tightly into a fist, punching at their fanged jaws, their bodies wailing in pain when he decked them.
“Fergus!” I gulped, knees shaking as I watched him and John snapping their necks, their pasty bodies flopping to the floor.
“Why didn’t you run?” I asked, approaching Fergus, who was passionately trying to untie his father.
“‘Tis easy to run,” he said, sweat dripping from his brow, “harder to stay and fight!”
The broken Màrmann moaned on the ground, slithering, joints popping, cracking their necks back into place. They were waking up!
Fergus kicked one of them in the stomach, hurling it back down to the ground, while the other two contorted their bodies back together.
“Stop it, Fergus!” his father pleaded. “She’s here to get you! She needs more men!”
We felt an eerie prickling sensation on the back of our necks. We spun around, to be face to face with the demon named, Lainahwyn, standing just a few feet away from us. This time she didn’t look like a beauty queen. Her body had now transformed, a demon with lethal fangs flaring, her grey hair waving fiercely, thrashing out at us like venomous snakes, her eyes black as night, narrowing her glare on us, her skin a muted grey, scaly, and a reptilian tongue hissing from her lips.
“Run for it, boy!” howled Fergus’s father as five more Màrmann emerged from the smoky shadows behind her.
We didn’t hesitate and instantly took to flight, sprinting through the dark and narrow passageways, twisting and turning, with the sound of the Màrmann’s scuffling feet echoing behind us, chasing us, growling at us, clawing at us, thirsting for our blood.
The light in the tunnel had changed dramatically, revealing the soft glow of twilight; up ahead was the exit out of Lainahwyn’s den. My heart thundered inside my chest as we raced toward the exit, scrambling as fast as we could to escape the attack.
“Get out of here!” yelled Fergus, as he cracked his flashlight into one of the Màrmann’s temple, it spun around three times, and then collapsed listlessly to the ground, its body still slithering. Its plagued hand reached out, coiling its blistering fingers around Fergus’s ankle, yanking him down to the grassy ground on the cusp of the cave’s entrance, pulling him back into Lainahwyn’s lair.
John hoisted up a nearby rock, his arms strained from its heavy weight and then pummeled it down onto the Màrmann’s arm. Its corroded hand releasing its grip on Fergus, and then it withered away into the blackness of the cave.
An army of Màrmann manifested from out of the darkness, locking their eyes on us, their black lips drooling, their decaying arms spread wide open, herding around us, and awaiting their next orders.
Fergus pushed me away toward the clearing, a knife in his hand, an angry sneer on his face, ready to do battle.
“Run!” I cried, watching them inch their undead festering bodies closer and closer toward John and Fergus.
“Never!” Fergus hollered back, his knife jabbing at a large Màrmann who was clawing and lunging at him.
Vyx burst through the entrance of the cave, a deranged grin curving across his scarred face, his bloodshot eyes narrowed into a severe squint, looking around the melee. Focusing his anger on Fergus, he plowed through the Màrmann, snatching Fergus up by his neck, his feet dangling in the air, Vyx’s snout snarling like a bull about to trample his kill.
“I see you found yourself a wee lass named Izzy,” Vyx growled, his grimy fingertip pressing harder into Fergus’s neck, choking him coldly, his face turning beet red. Vyx scanned the area, his ugly eyes finally fixing on me. Seething, he tossed Fergus to ground then thundered forward. “You have something I need!”
I shuffled back on my feet, scrapping my boots against the dewy grass, losing my traction as I tried to escape. Vyx clasped onto my shirt, hoisting me high into the night’s sky, his stinky hot breath spewing into my face, eww, so foul.
I grimaced.
This is the second time I wanted to toss my cookies tonight. Gross.
“Where is it, Iz?” he prodded, shaking me viciously and then wrapping his meaty hand around my neck, covering up my black widow’s tattoo, “where’d you hide it?”
“Why, Vyx?” I gasped, trying to catch my breath with a few gulps of air. “It’s so nice to see you again.” My voice fell into a strained whisper, “How long has it been?”
“Stop toying with me!” he said angrily, tightening his grip around my delicate flesh.
“I remember now,” I said with a forced smile, “the last time I saw you was when you pushed me in front of that bus!”
“Listen, girl, you got everything you deserved,” Vyx said through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched so tightly the cords in his neck poked out of his blotchy skin.
“And so did you,” I cried, my leg reared back, bending at the knee, slamming the tip of my boot into his genitals, his hands released me from his powerful grip, freeing me. I fell to the ground, watching him crumple over in pain, trying to secure the family jewels.
Running, Fergus catapulted himself on top of Vyx, putting him in a chokehold, wrestling him down to his burly knees.
“Fergus!” cried John, lying on his belly, his arms flailing out, reaching, and scrapping at the dirt with his fingernails.
He was captured by the Màrmann, ripping at his clothes, shredding it to pieces as he tried to pull away from their death grip, gnawing at him with their piercing canine teeth into his raw skin, his body oozing blood, weakening with each cut as they tried to drag him into the cave.
The demon broke through the Màrmann like a dark eerie mist with her seething eyes, her fingers crooked open like scissors, displaying her sword-like straws, ready to drink her dinner. Crouching over John, her nails sliced through his neck, coldly, rich blood pulsing up her fingernails, hollow and vacuum-like, sucking out his life’s energy heartlessly, her eyes rolling back into her head, just like the junkie’s I’ve seen on the streets, when they finally get their fix.
“JOHN!” cried Fergus, releasing Vyx’s brawny neck and charging toward Lainahwyn.
Lainahwyn’s eyes darted up, hissing at Fergus, her tongue rattling, long and split at its end like a snake, it shot out from her mouth, lancing his neck, crippling him with her toxic venom, his body crumpled over, flopping to the ground.
Vyx sneered at me, cracking his head to the side, his body dripping in sweat, he rose back to his feet, his muscle mass charging toward me like a bull.
I sat there, frozen, not knowing whether to run or allow him to pound my face in. He sure looked angry.
“Take my hand!” said a familiar voice behind me. I twirled around and saw Anabel, saddled on top of a chestnut horse, its nose whinnying up as it pranced beside me. I threw my hand
up, latching onto her arm, and promptly shimmied onto the horse’s back.
Vyx roared, flinging himself toward us. Anabel steered the horse away, its legs sidestepping away from Vyx as he fell face down into a blanket of purple heather.
Blane jumped through the Màrmann on a black stallion, a claymore’s blade clutched in his hands, raising it high above his head, swinging large circles as he swung it down at one of the Màrmann, slicing off his right arm.
Lainahwyn sat unaffected, holding John’s limp body by her side, pale, deteriorated, all his blood drained from his lifeless body.
Blane’s stallion reared before Lainahwyn, its iron horseshoes hovering above her demonic head, her voice let out an unearthly wail as she crawled back into the cave, leaving John’s body alone in the chilly grass.
Blane’s horse galloped over to Fergus, his body convulsing uncontrollably from Lainahwyn’s venom, he scooped him up easily, laying him belly side down on the stallion’s back. His eyes shifted over toward John, his remains sprawled flat on the ground. The Màrmann swarmed around him, buzzing like bees, they were unaffected by the iron horseshoes, pouncing on top of John’s corpse like it was fresh meat, trying to quench their thirst for blood, tearing, hacking at his body, dragging him back into the demon’s cave of death.
Tears swelled in my eyes, my fingers trembling, reaching up to wipe away the waterworks, closing them tightly, saying a silent prayer in my head for John, hoping he didn’t suffer much.
Blane’s horse rode toward us. He pointed at white speck, motoring rapidly toward us from the mountainside.
A cloaked man cruised past us, straddling a black motorcycle with a sidecar made of bones, saluting us with two bony fingers, heading toward Lainahwyn’s lair.
“What is that?” I asked, rubbing my swollen eyes.
“The Ankou,” answered Blane. “The Portal is in a weakened state. Now he can pass through to claim the dead.”
We raced away from the cave, the horses striding at a quickened pace.
My heart mourned for the loss of John, but I felt a dagger pierce it when I thought that I could lose Fergus, too.
Chapter 8
♦♦♦
Anabel
Effortlessly, Blane hauled Fergus into the castle, an infected body hanging over his broad shoulder, surging with poisonous venom, flailing uncontrollably on the verge of a catastrophic change into a Màrmann.
Cautiously, Slu peeked out from behind a door, fearing that something bad had happened, his large eye bulging with red veins shooting out from his steely-blue iris like the rays of the sun.
“Go get Leigheas and the Heathers,” ordered Blane to Slu, his eye twitching in surprise. He turned swiftly, bobbing down the hallway on his lone leg.
Blane dumped Fergus into a wooden chair, a distant stare haunting his eyes, his arms jerking wildly, frenziedly, coughing and choking up black phlegm.
Five heather pixies zipped into the room, exploding like confetti, a stream of violet dust trailing behind them, their bodies covered in purple heather, small and dainty, fluttering their shear wings like yellow bumble bees.
Izzy rushed to Fergus’s side, her fingers intertwined with his. “Why didn’t you take us back to Granny’s?” she yelled at Blane, rubbing away the clammy beads off Fergus’ forehead.
Blane stood over Fergus. “Having her drain your blood is one thing. Getting a dose of her venom is another. We must get the venom out,” he said, “Before...”
Fergus’s eyes began to dart rapidly around the room, unexpectedly, he lurched forward, swinging his fists violently, clipping Blane in the chin, knocking him back two steps. Blane rubbed the welt on his chin, nodding to the heather pixies, flittering above Fergus, roots sprung out from their hands and feet, thick vines coiling around Fergus’s chest, arms, and ankles, strapping him securely into the chair, his body jarring, legs kicking wildly, fighting the restraint.
Izzy wedged her finger tips under rope-like vines, trying to tear them off Fergus. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she screamed, ripping at the entangled roots.
Blane nodded again and two of the heather pixies shot their snarling roots into the air, braided green stems hooking around Izzy, anchoring her down into another wooden chair.
“Let me go!” shrieked Izzy, jostling in the high backed chair.
“Calm yerself, lass,” stated Blane. “The heather’s grip will only tighten the more you struggle.”
Izzy’s face went beet red, throwing her body left to right, screaming, “What the hell is this place, a prison?”
“Blane?” I said softly, touching his arm, feeling his hard bulging biceps.
Blane tensed from my touch.
Give me strength, I sighed to myself. I was hoping he’d be able to explain his actions.
A mist of twinkling lights developed next to Fergus, Leigheas appeared from out of nowhere within a sparkling cloud.
“Leigheas will remove the Lainahwyn’s venom from your friend,” stated Blane, working a jaw in his mouth.
“Then what, Braveheart?” snipped Izzy. Her body leaned forward, pressing against her coiled restraints, digging deep into her bare skin. “You’re gonna throw us down into the dungeon and eat our flesh?”
“Izzy,” I said, irritated by her bad manners. “Blane’s here to help us.”
“Prove it,” she demanded, “by letting me go!”
Leigheas continued with her task, placing one of her gnarled hands on top of Fergus’s forehead and the other on his heart, trying to calm him, but his body continued to shake violently.
Slu hopped into the great room, a spiky wood club clutched in his hairy hand, waving it in the air, muttering, “I’z knock ‘em out cold.”
“What?” shrieked Izzy, her cheeks flaming.
“No, Slu!” said Blane testily, throwing his hand down.
“What the hell is that thing anyway?” Izzy said through gritted teeth.
Slu hung his head low and wobbled away, dragging his club behind him down the stone hallway.
Smoke steamed from Blane’s nostrils. “He’s a Fachan!” Blane scolded Izzy. “I doona know where you’ve come from, lass. But here in Dunvarghan Castle they are family and are ne’er to be called a thing!”
Izzy rolled her eyes and sulked in her chair.
Blane took a quick inhale through his nose, breathing it out slowly, trying to maintain control. “Izzy,” he said coolly, gesturing toward Fergus’ body jerking violently, “will calm yer man down, so Leigheas can remove the venom?”
Izzy scowled, her lower lip pouting – she always did that when she felt gypped –her body tightened up a bit. Her fists clenched, her arms tugging at the vines, testing the heather’s grip. Finally her shoulders sagged, and she murmured, “Yeah.”
Blane gave another signal to the heather pixies, slowly releasing and unraveling Izzy’s bonds.
Izzy rushed to Fergus’s side, a different look on her face, a worried one that I had never seen before. She knelt beside him, wiping away the drool from his mouth. “Fergus!” she sobbed, “look at me!” Stroking his cheek with the back of her hand, “Remember what you said to me in the cave? ‘Tis easier to run, harder to stay and fight?’ Well, you better not be running now, Fergus! You better fight, Fergus, fight!”
Fergus’s eyes skidded to Blane, his nostrils flapping as he breathed heavily, in and out in labored breaths, his body still trembling nonstop from the pain.
Izzy pursed her lips to the side, angling her head back at Blane. “Seems like he doesn’t like you either,” she commented snidely.
I caressed Blane’s arm again, tugging at it softly. “We’ll go into the library while you do your work.” I mentioned to Leigheas, guiding Blane away, her arms glowing with a golden energy, a hot white light beaming out of her hands and into Fergus, her gummy mouth opened wide, clamping down hard on Fergus’s neck, sucking out the poisonous green venom.
Blane and I entered the library, lined with mahogany bookcases and four gold framed paintings, a roa
ring fire warmed the room, flickering soft light off Blane’s face, the agonizing screams echoing from the Great Hall soon trailed off as I closed the door, leaving us alone.
Blane didn’t look at me. He crossed the room to an ancient mahogany serving bar, straight for a crystal canister filled with single malt whiskey next to the roaring fireplace.
“There is hope for the lad,” he nervously, his muscles tensed pouring the amber liquid into a beveled glass, shooting the spirit down in one gulp.
I felt as if he was hiding something from me, his body was stiff. I clasped my fingers together, strolling around the room. I wasn’t going to let it affect me, so I continued on with the conversation. “He’s a very determined man.”
“Aye,” pouring more whiskey into his glass, “that he is.”
His powerful back rippled in the fire’s light, unyielding, hiding his face from me. Now, I knew he was concealing something, but what? I strolled over to the paintings, hanging pristinely on the walls, studying them, trying to figure out who this man was that kept on rescuing me and yet not allowing me to know him at all.
“I wanted to thank you for your help,” I said, observing the first painting of a man with a long crooked nose, pointy yellow teeth, an iron pike clutched in his rangy hands, a bloodied cap dripping down his frail frame. A small golden plate at the bottom of the painting read: Bloody Baron. I winced at the portrait and continued. “For everything you’ve done so far for me.”
I glanced back at Blane, still avoiding me, his palms pressed firmly on the table, tensing his sinewy shoulders. I moved onto the next portrait, a dense grove, ranged with sprouting oak trees, lush and green with vibrant vegetation, squinting hard I could see faces in the trees, and in its center, tumor-like features imprinted into the bark of the largest tree. The gold plate at its base read: Ghillie Dhu.
I stepped back, staring at Blane, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. I cleared my throat, hoping he would turn around and look at me. It came of no good. He was still ignoring me, sipping on more whiskey. “Like I said before, thank you for saving me, Izzy, and Fergus,” I added, turning back to analyze the third painting. A skinless rider mounted on a hairless horse, its fibrous muscles raw and exposed, black blood pulsing through its yellow veins, a hybrid between man and beast. The plate read: Nuckelavee.
Guardian of the Moon Pendant Page 8
