by Lori King
One memory flowed into another. He remembered what it felt like to hold her in his arms. His senses filled with her scent and his lips tingled where they had touched hers. His body ached to return to her, to finish what he’d started, to claim her as his own.
Roaring to the Heavens, Kyran bellowed, “Why? Why urr ye dooin' this tae me? Ye knoo Ah cannae go tae her! Ye knoo Ah cannae hav her!”
His dragon snarled in his head, pawing the ground and blowing smoke, pushing Kyran to return to their mate. Angry and frustrated, the black dragon jumped to his feet and stomped into the cave.
Entering the grotto at the back of the cavern he’d been calling home since leaving his brethren, Kyran shed his clothes and dove into the spring-fed pool in the center of the cave. He let the cool water wash over him, praying to the Heavens that somehow it would wipe away the sins of the past and show him a clear path to a future. A future including his banshee.
Weariness, bone-deep and debilitating, wore at the Phantom, until he floated to the edge, lifted himself out and collapsed, naked and wet, on the sleeping bag he’d liberated from a camper several weeks before. Falling right to sleep, it took mere seconds before pictures of his Caitlin filled his dreams. Her eyes, although blind, saw so much more than he ever could. Her touch had the ability to soothe and calm both himself and his dragon. Her kiss was like the finest wine, making him long to sip from her luscious lips every day for the rest of his life.
Her body was perfect with its seductive curves and her skin like satin under his rough, calloused hands. There was no denying she’d been created for him. Caitlin not only enticed him physically, but challenged him mentally and the strength that flowed through every fiber of her being was as intoxicating as her embrace.
On and on his dreams went, reliving every second of his brief visit with her without provocation or preamble, his visions blurred. His head was spinning. He felt like he was falling. Kyran felt lost and out of control until ever so slowly the images came into focus, and the black dragon found himself in another place…another time. One he’d never visited before but somehow felt as though he belonged.
Walking down the sidewalk in a quaint little town, the Phantom watched the inhabitants smile at one another as they went about their daily routines. The sounds of children at play caught his attention, making him stop to watch for just a moment. Moving on, he turned the corner and happened upon two little girls with long dark curls hiding behind a small white playhouse while a young boy, obviously their brother, hid his eyes and counted to twenty.
Smiling at the frivolity of youth, Kyran once again stopped, this time smiling as the little boy yelled, “Ready or not, here I come!” before he ran from one hiding place to another, looking for his sisters while the little girls quietly giggled with the anticipation of being found.
It was captivating to watch. The children were so carefree, so full of life, free to do and feel anything they wanted. The expressions on their faces lit up the world around them, and the longer Kyran watched, the more compelled he felt to stay.
While he stood watching, Kyran realized the youngest girl with the bright blue eyes and long curly ponytails was his Caitlin at the age of seven or eight. Even in her youth, she was a breath of fresh air. It was clear to see why her brother and sister protected her even when just having fun. She was a treasure to all who knew her.
As the air turned cool and the rays of the sun turned to the dark blues and pinks of the evening, a woman, who looked so like Caitlin there was no denying she was his mate’s mother, called to her children, “Thomas, Bailey, Caitlin, time for dinner. Come in and get washed up.”
The children giggled as they held hands and rushed into the house, eager to obey their mother. Kyran allowed himself a moment to imagine what his own children would look like. Would the girls have long dark curls like Caitlin had as a child, with bright blue eyes and porcelain skin or would they resemble him with deep gray eyes and an olive complexion? Would their little boys look for trouble as he did, and always be in search of their next adventure?
Pulling himself from his thoughts, the black dragon again focused on Caitlin’s memories. He watched the family at the dinner table, sharing stories about their day while teasing and laughing. He loved that their father, Alexandru, as their mother, Catherine, called him, took the time to listen to each of his children and give them the attention they so desperately wanted.
Catherine reminded him of his own mother. So unlike all the old myths and folk tales about banshees, she was beautiful and full of life, not a frightful old hag wandering the countryside looking for those bound for the afterlife. Although he had no doubt she was a herald of death, and would alert all in the vicinity with her distinctive wail. The immense power he felt in Caitlin’s memory, as well as the strength he knew his mate possessed, assured him that Catherine was first and foremost a mother with a fierce loyalty to protect her family at any costs.
All to soon it was time for bed, he smiled as he listened to Caitlin say her prayers and beg her ‘poppa,’ as she called him, to read her a story. Alexandru was quick to give in and even gave each of the characters a special voice to which his daughter giggled and clapped with delight.
When the story was over, Caitlin’s dad kissed his very tired little girl on the head, told her to have sweet dreams, and turned on her nightlight before exiting the room. Kyran had looked forward to simply watching the young Caitlin sleep but instead was immediately caught up in a whirlwind of sights and sounds that made him dizzy as his banshee’s memories sped forward.
Gone was the quiet, peaceful home of a happy family, dreaming of the next new day to enjoy one another and the beautiful life they had together. The serenity the Brookes family had known instantly shattered as Catherine’s death wail shook the rafters while a platoon of hunters surrounded their home. Dressed in black from head-to-toe to remain undetectable, the fact that they chose to also cover their faces, proving what cowards they were, made Kyran shake with rage as he watched them preparing to attack. Their hatred for who or what they believed lived within those hallowed walls bathed the entire memory in a dark red hue, and filled his nostrils with the acrid scent of rotting flesh.
Kyran felt as if he’d been punched in the gut as the breath left his lungs when he recognized the faces of Tariq O’Baoill and his evil offspring, Adam and Eve, commanding the hunters. His firsthand knowledge of their ability to inflict pain struck fear in the black dragon’s heart as he anticipated what he was about to see. The smirks on their faces and exuberant way they gave the countdown made both man and dragon roar. He screamed, unable to stop himself, even though he knew he was watching a recollection from Caitlin’s memory…something that had happened in the past…something he couldn’t prevent or control.
Holding his breath, he watched the bastards break through the doors and windows, even blowing holes in a few of the exterior walls while his eyes searched for a mere glimpse of the tiny Caitlin. Catherine’s wail continued, shattering windows and causing the insurgents without ear plugs to fall to their knees, paralyzed by pain and fear. Not even the explosions and gunfire could compete with the power the banshee let loose into the atmosphere.
Ancient magic cut through the gun powder and smoke right before Kyran caught sight of Alexandru throwing spells like grenades at those daring to attack his family. Unfortunately, neither Catherine nor her husband was a match for the sheer number of hunters. From one heartbeat to the next, the banshee’s keen was silenced, and the gypsy was cut down where he stood.
Kyran’s heart ceased to beat as Tariq ordered Adam and Eve to the children’s rooms with a bellowed, “Take them or destroy them; the choice is yours.”
The evil grin on Eve’s face assured that no one within her grasp would survive that night. There was no doubting Adam, the weaker of the twins, would obey his sister’s every command like the sniveling coward he was. Hating his feelings of helplessness and despair, wanting to turn back the hands of time and save Caitlin’s family, the black
dragon shook with the need to see the younger version of his mate, to know how she’d survived.
Glimpsing tiny fingers and bright blue eyes peeking through the small gap between the bathroom door and its frame, Kyran almost smiled. Sadly, he instead found himself holding his breath as Bailey’s blood-curdling scream cut through the crash of splintering wood that accompanied Eve’s booted foot as the hunter kicked down the door to the little girl’s room and immediately began firing her automatic weapon, only stopping when the walls contained more holes than actual plaster.
Tears flooded the little banshee’s face as Adam repeated the actions of his sister on Thomas’ door. However, Caitlin’s older brother was ready. When the male O’Baoill twin stopped firing, the young boy flung a spell at Adam’s chest, throwing the hunter across the hall and into the wall behind him while also momentarily blinding him.
Making a run for it, screaming for the family he believed still lived, Thomas made it as far as the top of the stairs before Eve turned, took aim and shot him in the back of the head. One bullet, well placed, ended a life with endless possibilities. Kyran’s sorrow weighed heavy on his heart. He fought to breathe. He knew the treachery the O’Baoills were capable of, but had never considered that they would actually stoop so low as to harm children sleeping soundly in the safety of their beds. Once again, the black dragon tried to escape the web of Caitlin’s memories, only to be pulled farther into her mind, reliving all her terror and unable to do anything but stand idly by and watch the carnage.
The silence that echoed through what was left of the Brookes’ home ended as Eve bellowed, “All clear. Everybody out. Set the charges,” while motioning for her brother to follow her to safety.
Kyran felt as if he were the one huddling between the toilet and the wall with his head between his knees, holding a teddy bear with a missing ear and most of his fur rubbed off. With her tiny fist shoved in her mouth to stifle her screams, and tears streaking down her face, Caitlin rocked back and forth, telling her bear with her thoughts that everything would be okay.
For the first time since his mother passed away, Kyran’s eyes filled with tears. He knew she would survive but was totally unprepared for how his mate, already a pillar of strength and courage at a young age, would escape what was about to happen.
Tariq O’Baoill commanded, “Retreat!”
The sounds of booted feet pounding against the packed earth shook the house.
Eve began to countdown, “Five…four…three…two…one…” just before four simultaneous flashes lit the night sky and fire roared to life, immediately engulfing what was left of the wooden structure.
Caitlin wailed, not the keen of a banshee, but the cry of a small, scared child in need of help. Her blue eyes watered and she coughed uncontrollably as the bathroom filled with smoke. Even in his sleep, Kyran could feel the heat of the blaze on his skin; the stench of the smoke burnt his nose, and his throat burned from the accelerant the hunters had used to hasten the fire.
Fearing death more than the fire, Caitlin jumped to her feet, grabbed a towel still damp from her bath from the rack over her head, wrapped it around her body and in one quick move threw open the door and raced through the flames. Flying down the stairs, her towel caught fire as a burning beam fell from the ceiling, landing in the exact spot she’d just vacated.
Running toward the back door, zigzagging the flames, being braver than any adult he’d ever known, Caitlin grabbed the scalding brass doorknob of the one door still standing, and threw it open, completely ignoring the blistered, raw skin on her palm as she sprinted into the dark night.
Collapsing on the sidewalk, out of range of the fire, Caitlin held onto her charred teddy bear and struggled to breathe. For several long minutes, Kyran felt her heart falter, her lungs work harder than was ever intended, and her little mind wonder if it would be easier to simply let go and follow the light. Thankfully, sirens filled the airwaves, blue and red flashing lights lit the night sky, and droves of firemen burst onto the scene.
Kyran pushed back the jealousy both he and his dragon felt as a burly EMT carefully scooped up the unconscious Caitlin, ran to his ambulance and began to perform CPR. The black dragon wished with his entire being that he had been the one to save her, but again reminded himself it was only a memory, a piece of his mate’s life she’d survived, a piece of the puzzle that made her the miraculous woman he’d met only a short day ago. His heart soared as his little banshee coughed and wheezed, eventually fighting those trying to help her by trying to remove the oxygen mask while screaming that she couldn’t see.
The fire had burnt her sweet little face, her long dark curls, and most of the pink nightie barely covering her body. He watched the doors of the ambulance close and in his mind tried to race forward to be with the one claiming his heart one broken piece at a time, but the sounds of a dog barking and someone yelling his name pulled him from Caitlin’s dreams and had him jumping up from his pallet on the cold hard cave floor and stalking to the mouth of his grotto.
The sounds of footsteps knocking rocks off the trail to his hideout and the smell of daffodils reached him at the same time Duke’s bark and Caitlin’s voice echoed off the rock walls around him. “Kyran?” Another bark and a few more steps then, “Damn you, Kyran, answer me. I know you can hear me.”
Grabbing an almost-clean pair of jeans he’d borrowed from a campsite on his way home, Kyran chuckled to himself, “Nae even bein' blind stops mah lass from getting whit she wants. Whit th' hell am Ah gonnae do noo?”
4
She had waited as long as she could. Had paced the floor until she was sure there were grooves in the wood. Had even taken Duke out so many times, the poor dog finally just sat on the deck and yipped for her to join him. Laying on the chaise under the stars, Caitlin tried to close her eyes, only to be met with nightmares from the past rearing their ugly heads. It hadn’t happened for years. She was sure she and Marcie had laid those demons to rest, but here they were, alive and well, and robbing her of much-needed rest.
Well, those and that damned dragon…
On her fourth, or maybe it was fifth, attempt at sleep, Caitlin felt Kyran’s presence in her mind. Knew immediately he was sleeping and that the stirring of the ghosts of her past was caused by his unconscious mind seeking answers, trying to connect with her. Although still disconcerting, it at least calmed her anxiety enough to allow the banshee to fall asleep just as the warmth of the first rays of the morning sun kissed her cheeks.
Almost immediately, Caitlin found herself walking along a long dark corridor, feelings of dread and fear closing in all around her. The stench of decay stung her nostrils and the icy fingers of death danced along her spine. It took a moment for her to gain perspective and when she did her heart sank, for she was not caught in some random dream but experiencing one of Kyran’s memories. Not only witnessing, but actually reliving the recollection, as if it were happening to her.
Silver ate at the skin of his wrists and ankles. The clang of the chains that suspended him from the ceiling echoed against the stone walls as he tried to ease the ache in his stretched and beaten muscles. His mind was clouded from the numerous drugs and herbs they’d pumped into his system. The strong white magic of his dragon stretched to its limit, only able to hold the attack at bay. The bastards holding him knew they couldn’t control him, so they kept him groggy and wore ear plugs to avoid his fatal screech.
The sound of steel scraping against concrete alerted the black dragon to another arriving enemy. Bracing himself for the surge of electricity they always shot through his body, one of their many forms of sick entertainment, Kyran was surprised to see an old stooped wizard shuffling in front of him. He was even more shocked that the man had dared to come alone as even the heavily armed hunters came in packs of six when they accompanied the ‘doctors’ to perform their heinous experiments.
Watching intently while the elderly man went about his business, as if Kyran wasn’t there, muttering to himself and pulling various
bags and bottles from the leather satchel he’d pulled from under his tattered and worn robes, the Phantom had no clue what was about to happen, only that it was guaranteed to be painful. Unfortunately, his answer came all too quickly. The old wizard walked to the far wall, pushed the button that would lower the black dragon from the rafters and stood with a long silver rod in one hand and a glowing stone in the other.
Just as the tip of Kyran’s toes touched the floor, the wizard moved forward, smiled and asked, “And how are you, Kyran O’Connor?” His voice was low and gravelly, the signs of age evident not only in his words, but also by the deep sagging wrinkles of his ruddy and scarred skin. Age meant wisdom and knowledge, and that combined with the power the elderly one left in his wake was enough to make the black dragon prepare for the worst.
“Doo Ah knoo you?”
“No…no, no, no, but I know you.” The wizard gave a raspy chuckle, raised his eyebrows and continued, “You are the black dragon of legend. The one with the strength and fire of the Universe’s blessed race, the shriek of his mother’s people, and the ability to kill with just a thought. The one known as the Phantom.” Shaking his head as he raised his watery blue eyes to Kyran’s swirling gray ones, the mystic shook his head. “You know, it’s a shame,” he coughed and wheezed until Kyran thought the old geezer might pass out before taking a deep breath and adding, “A real shame what they want me to do to you.” He tsked. “These nasty bastards have no clue what they’re messing with. But I, unlike you, am trapped in a hell of my own making and must obey.”
He touched the tip of the silver spike to the glowing gem. Light, bright and startling, burst from the stone, filling the entire cavern with a brilliant kaleidoscope of reds, yellows, blues, and greens. Humming a haunting tune, the wizard began to chant, alternating between Gaelic and English, “Marcáil a bhaint de, marcáil a subdue, stop a chur leis Dragon, stop a chur leis an fear. Marking to suppress, marking to subdue, stop the dragon, stop the man.”
