Time Everlastin' Book 5

by Mickee Madden

  A scream razored from her throat, its harsh echo piercing. Another scream and another followed as she backed toward the altar, her eyes painfully widened in horror on an abomination her mind couldn't categorize.

  She couldn't make herself stop screaming. Despite the increasing rawness of her throat, sound poured from her like the shrill of a siren.

  The creature eased from its rock perch, erecting itself to its seven foot height. Veined wings flexed. Taloned hands opened and closed at its sides. But the eyes terrified her the most. Almost human. Bright green. Intelligent. Perusing her as if she were but a rare insect under a microscope.

  Its flesh had the appearance of dark grey rock, its frame muscular, powerful. The features were harsh-planed. Broad nose. Wide-spread large eyes. Thick chiseled lips. Large ears on a bald skull.

  The scream refused to end, rising another octave. The altar's edge pressed against the backs of her thighs. Darkness closed in, tunneling her vision until an isolated talon pressed to her mouth. The contact severed her ability to make a sound. Somehow, her mind locked onto the fact the creature's flesh was warm and soft. A gurgling hush doused her immediate need to pass out. She clamped her mouth shut.

  The talon withdrew.

  Taryn's eyes strained to pop from their sockets as the creature lowered its massive head and stared into her eyes. Through the gauzy layers of terror encasing her brain, she read bewilderment on the monstrous face. It straightened back, the hairless ridges above its eyes lifting as if it were attempting to impart a question. She gave the only answer she could, considering her frame of mind.

  She screamed.

  This time the sound was hoarse with intermittent squeaks that would shame those of a frightened mouse. The creature jiggled its head and released a long-winded gurgle.

  A burst of grating Gaelic intruded. Again Taryn clamped her mouth shut. The creature spared a peeved look at the barbarian then grimaced a grimace that rivaled any she had ever seen. Its head turned to her. Broad nostrils flared and gushed warm air against her face and neck.

  The barbarian continued to rail as he stood to the creature's left. Not once did he look at her. Nonetheless, she crossed her arms against her breasts and shrank within herself. The creature's nostrils pinched shut and it winced, and she understood why.

  What had been clean air in the chamber, now reeked of the barbarian.

  Obviously, the creature was more offended by his stench than even she. With nostrils the size of her fists, it was little wonder.

  Moments ago, the sight of the beast had nearly pushed her over the brink. Now, she experienced a fey connection with it, an empathic link she couldn't begin to fathom. She sensed the creature would not harm her and, although she wasn't sure she could rely on her instincts at this time, decided she was safer with it than the ranting lunatic.

  "Shut up!" she snapped, glaring at her human imprisoner.

  The barbarian's head jerked around, his gaze made a quick sweep over her nakedness, and he turned fully to face her.

  "Now ye know the him o' it," he sneered, jabbing a thumb at the creature.

  Taryn blinked owlishly at both. "What is it?"

  "Dinna ye ken a bloody gargoyle when ye see one?"

  Blood pounded at her temples. "Lower your voice," she rasped.

  "Me?" he cried. "Lower ma voice? Was it no' yer caterwaulin' wha' shook the foundation o' this world?"

  "Back off!"

  The demand was for him, but it was the creature that stepped away.

  A devilish gleam flashed in the barbarian's eyes. He inched his face closer. "Or wha'? Ye will lash me wi' yer cuttin' tongue till I crawl off wi' ma tail atween ma legs?"

  Taryn needed to draw air into her lungs but refused to subject them to the fumes wafting off him. She attempted to move to her right. His arm shot out and blocked her. She stepped to her left. His other arm did likewise, boxing her in.

  "I dinna want ye here!" he bellowed into her face.

  "I dinna—dammit—don't want to be here, either!"

  She instinctually sucked in a breath and gagged on the rancid air that hit her lungs. He stepped back enough to allow her to bend over during a coughing fit. When she eased up, she was stunned to see the creature gesture harshly for the barbarian to back further away from her. No sooner had he, the creature proffered a colorful blanket to her.

  It took Taryn a moment to react. Snatching the blanket, she hastily wrapped it around her, immediately relishing the soft, woven fabric and the warmth it afforded her.

  The creature looked at the livid man and released a stream of gurgling sounds. When it finished what struck her as a sound scolding, the barbarian's hostility magnified.

  "No, I'm warnin' ye!" he shouted at the beast. "Send her back!"

  Another gurgle. This one guttural.

  The barbarian lunged at the creature. Mindless of her actions, Taryn jumped forward, positioning herself between the two anomalies. By the time she realized what she had done, a large fist was coming at her. Her heart shot into her throat, blocking off an attempt to fill her lungs with a gasp. The barbarian barely stopped short of reaching her.

  He staggered back several paces as if shaken by the fact he had nearly struck her. This surprised her, especially in light of the fact he hadn't been shy about roughing her up earlier. Yet, self-loathing was clearly visible in his eyes. Black eyes. Strangely familiar eyes.

  A tingling sensation crept along her arms, making her all the more edgy.

  "What's wrong with you?" she cried in a clarion voice, the rawness gone. "Have you lost your mind?"

  "Aye," he growled. His gaze shifted beyond her to the creature. The hatred Taryn read in his eyes made her shiver, and confirmed her belief he was a madman. He spat out several Gaelic words to the creature then another in a hiss with a belligerent jab in Taryn's direction.

  On impulse, she slapped the raised hand aside. "This poor creature—"

  "Puir craiture!" he boomed, gaping at her as if she had donned an idiot cap. "Are ye defendin' this monster?"

  "He's just a dumb beast, for God's sake!"

  The gargoyle made an indignant chuff behind her. Ignoring him, she said, "What's your excuse?"

  "Step aside," the barbarian warned, his hands balling into fists.

  Taryn walked to within arm's reach of her antagonist. "Leave him alone."

  A sneer formed on the man's mouth. "Twould if I could."

  "I suggest you give it a serious try," she said with equal contempt. "I may not be known for my charitable actions toward people, but I do draw the line at animal abuse. Oh!" Taryn softened her tone. "I'm so sorry," she said contritely to the barbarian. "I guess I made you the exception to that rule."

  "Och!"

  Taryn released a cry of alarm when he unexpectedly lifted her into his arms and swung her upward to lie atop his palms, above his head. With the same swiftness, he dashed across the room and tossed her into the golden pool. She surfaced, sputtering mad, her legs straining to keep her afloat against the weight of the now soaked blanket.

  "Tell him to send ye back!" he snarled, and stormed from the chamber.

  He was no sooner out of sight, the gargoyle came to the pool, scooped her out of the water as if she weighed nothing at all, and placed her on her feet on the rock floor.

  Taryn numbly watched him cross the room and return with another blanket. This time when the gargoyle held it out, she read something in his expression that rocked her.

  "You understand, don't you?" she said shakily.

  The creature's gaze swept over her features before he nodded.

  Taryn dropped the wet blanket and, trembling uncontrollably, wrapped herself in the dry one. "You...ah...you're a gargoyle?"

  He nodded.

  A heaviness filled her lungs as she glanced at his wings. "You caught me when I first fell from the stairs, didn't you."

  He nodded.

  "What about when that man and I—"

  He shook his head.

  Taryn's mind r
eeled with questions. "Ah...are you keeping me down here?"

  After a short hesitation, he nodded.

  "Why?"

  The gargoyle glanced in the direction the barbarian had gone.

  "Because of him?"

  He nodded.

  "Why?"

  The gargoyle grinned and the sight of it made her collapse, her butt hitting the floor. "Oh...God. I must be losing my mind."

  A ruminative gurgle came from the gargoyle before he cast off and flew out of the chamber. For a long time, Taryn remained atop the cold stones, staring off into space, pondering the events that had led her to this place. The dirk and Ciarda's diary had been the bait. The why remained the greatest puzzle.

  No. Not anymore.

  What about the barbarian?

  Had he, too, accidentally stumbled upon this realm?

  Who was he?

  And why couldn't she shake a gnawing gut feeling that the animosity between him and beast held more substance than was readily apparent?

  What secret were they privy to and she not?

  And why did the barbarian bear a striking resemblance to the mural at the inn?

  He’s no ghost.

  Taryn chuckled. It rapidly escalated into roaring laughter. It was this or cry, and she never cried. Not since that time as a child when she'd stared out the back window of her parent's car and watched her brother stonily accept her disappearance from his life. Obviously, he hadn't recognized her reasons for sticking out her tongue or making faces at him. Hadn't heard her mind try to penetrate his stubbornness and plead with him not to remain behind without her.

  The laughter went on until she was too exhausted to continue. As it wound down, a thought occurred to her.

  Had she cried, shed a tear, when she'd thought the dirk had killed Lachlan again?

  She remembered the same kind of pain behind her breast she'd experienced as a child in that car, watching her brother grow smaller in the distance until she could no longer see him.

  "Roan," she moaned softly. "I came back for you."

  She curled into a fetal position and snugged deeper into the blanket. The advent of sleep embraced her without warning and, for a time, she escaped the barbarian and her prison. She escaped the lonely memories of her first years in the States, when the child she'd been had prayed to an unlistening god to reunite her with her brother. And, she escaped the bitter woman she had become.

  Unbeknown to her, the barbarian entered the chamber. He approached on soundless tread. By the time he crouched at her back, a scowl he couldn't erase was deeply etched in his brow. She whimpered in her sleep and he saw her nostrils twitch. That she could smell him in her slumber should have made him feel shame, but he did have cause for his appearance and actions.

  Aye, he had just cause, but she would never understand.

  Unable to stop himself, he touched the back of her wet hair. Longing cracked through the carefully constructed walls he'd built around himself over the years.

  Emotions were too painful.

  Need, even in the guise of wanting companionship, was too cruel a weapon against him.

  She thought him the monster. He didn't like the sting of hurt that had delivered. It meant he was weakening and that his enemy would again win.

  "Why didna ye listen to me, lass?" he whispered and brushed a fingertip along her temple. "I dinna want ye harmed."

  She squirmed in her sleep, prompting him to shoot to his feet and stare down at her with barbed wariness. He placed a hand over his heart and breathed sparingly.

  "Ye are no' like the ithers," he said, his tone but a strained whisper.

  He turned to leave. He was given a jolt at the sight of the gargoyle poised at the threshold. The smug, knowing look on the creature's face enraged him. This time, though, he would not relent to brute force. He would not strike out. He would not rant.

  "This be verra wrong," he told the gargoyle, his voice calmer than he felt.

  The creature's gaze shifted to the woman then returned to him.

  "Let her go."

  The gargoyle stared unblinkingly.

  "Find anither way to punish me."

  The gargoyle straightened to his full height, projecting the regal bearing he had hidden from the woman. He no longer resembled the meek creature she had seen, and for these games the beast played so skillfully, he hated him all the more.

  Strutting past him, the gargoyle stood beside the woman, one talon pointed at her in an unmistakable command.

  "I will no' succumb this time! Ye can hold her here till yer arse freezes in hell, ye deil, but I willna forsake ma self-respect again for yer amusement!"

  He backed out of the chamber, his eyes glued on the menacing smile stretched across the gargoyle's mouth. The creature was a master manipulator, as well as intelligent and...dangerous.

  This made his task all the more difficult.

  A deep, rumbling chuckle came from the gargoyle as it pointed at him, mocking his inability to win the woman's trust.

  "Ye bastard," he said in a low, harsh tone, and ran down the corridor in the direction of his chamber.

  Chapter 6

  There was little to do but sleep and Taryn grew tired of that as well. Another day had passed. Or so it seemed. Whenever she woke she found small stone bowls bearing vegetation. Only when cramping accompanied her rumbling stomach did she give in and eat. Much to her surprise, most of the questionable food was tasty, although the texture left a lot to be desired.

  Sleeping, eating and too much thinking.

  The idea that this was to be her life indefinitely, chipped away at what little patience she had left.

  This morning—day, night...whatever—she woke to find the usual three bowls on the floor near her bedding. Sitting up, she ate without interest, cramming the leafy and tubular bits into her mouth and chewing with the enthusiasm of a cow on its cud. Her heavy eyelids remained at half-mast as she surveyed her den. Not that there was anything to see. As far as living quarters went, it rated zilch.

  Swallowing the last of her meal, she burped, grinned, and sighed woefully. She needed clothes, her knapsack and a means to escape.

  Same-o, same-o.

  Besides the gun and dirk in the knapsack, she had pens and two notebooks. To escape and have a written account of the story behind the story of the gargoyle and the barbarian would escalate her journalism career. But the gargoyle didn't talk, and the barbarian...well, most of what he said and she was able to understand, wasn't printable.

  Yawning, Taryn stood and let the blanket and fronds fall away from her. The den was warm and cozy, and maintained a constant temperature.

  The gurgling cascade of the fountain drew her attention. She stepped in its direction before she noticed a white object laid out on the floor at the foot of her bedding. Lifting it, she inspected the linen shirt, slipped it over her head and tugged it on. The garment was clean. It was a good bet the barbarian had never worn it. The hemline reached to two inches above her knees. It was too wide for her frame, the collarless neckline barely concealing her breasts despite the laces she tied down the top half of the front. The full sleeves fell three inches beyond her hands. Rolling them to her mid-arms took care of that problem.

  Taryn crouched to gather a few swigs of a plant that reminded her of baby's-breath. At the fountain, she used the plant to clean her teeth, keeping her mind off the fact she resented using a part of her bedding for this ablution. When she finished and had rinsed her mouth, she filled her cupped hands with icy water and splashed it against her face and neck. One blanket corner served as a towel.

  A sensation of ants crawled across the skin of her arms as her gaze explored the boundaries of her solitary world.

  "I have to find a way out."

  Folding her arms against her middle, she walked around the bedding. Again. And again. She couldn't focus her thoughts long enough to formulate a plan. It was as if her mind had accepted this world as her fate. Her mind had succumbed to hopelessness. Boredom was a frightenin
g concept to a woman who lived each day seeking adventure, and creating adventure where none was available.

  How much adventure can there be in the innards of an island? she thought, slowing her steps as she neared the fourth bowl. She was still hungry, but she wasn't sure if that was due to the amount she'd eaten or a craving for normal food.

  Steak and eggs. Biscuits and gravy. Fat, browned sausages and crisp bacon. Not to forget fresh fruit on the side. And coffee.

  She groaned. Even a cup of bad coffee was preferable to none.

  Peeved with the restlessness she couldn't shake, she returned to the fountain and regarded a fourth bowl set upon a jutting shelf of rock next to the basin. As yet, she hadn't tasted the contents. A grimace tightened her facial muscles.

  "Gross. They look like tofu nuggets. Not for this girl."

  She peered longingly into the basin's pool then at the bowl. "Maybe if I rinse them off...."

  Her grimace intact, she sat at the basin's edge. The round, lumpy pods were an unappealing gray-green and slimy to the touch. Definitely not something that should pass her lips, let alone mingle with the contents of her stomach.

  She took one of the pods and immersed it. After working it against her palm with her fingers, she lifted it out of the water. Her eyebrows shot upward at the sudsy foam covering the hand. She hastily placed the bowl on the floor and mashed and rubbed the pod between her palms. Pale green foam elicited a low laugh from her. She rubbed the soapy matter over the exposed skin on her arms then lowered them into the water and scrubbed. Seconds later, she was elated to discover her skin was soft and clean.

  "Soap!" she squealed gleefully. Now it made sense why this bowl had been separated from the others.

  Suddenly, the prospect of boredom was no longer an issue. What more could a trapped-in-hell-with-a-gargoyle-and-barbarian woman ask for than something as cleansing, pleasant-smelling and potentially deadly as soap?

  Ahh, and vines. How nature does granteth the deserving.

  "Thank you, God," she whispered, grinning from ear to ear as her mind played out a fantasy about to become reality.

  * * *

  He couldn't remember the last time he dreamed. Nor could he remember when one had been so vivid and real. In the sleep world, he was aware that he was dreaming, and aware that he could end it by waking up. For reasons beyond his comprehension, he chose to subject himself to the ridiculousness of his mind's wanderings.