He pressed his lips together. “I won’t. Not on you.”
“Why not?” I said. “You got me into bed, didn’t you? And likely all those other women?”
“They were different.”
“How? Because my aunt didn’t tell you to sleep with them?”
Those emeralds were looking deep into mine. “Because I care about you.”
“What a load of shit!” I said. I turned on him and continued to the gates, and that’s when I stopped.
A fox trotted past the gate. Its fur was the golden color I had learned to recognize in the woman that had killed my family members. It looked at me with the same smile she had given me in the dreams.
I sucked in my breath.
“Now do you see?” he asked. He pointed. “She’s waiting for you. And she will take you like the others.”
Tears of fear and anger welled up. I clenched my eyes. I had no control. Nothing. Every piece of freedom was being taken from me. This bitch was chipping away at me, and I was trapped.
I dropped to my knees.
I wept.
Chris knelt down beside me. I felt his arms slide around me and I buried my face in his chest. I just needed someone to clutch while I let the pain come out in ugly sobs.
He whispered to me, words I couldn’t make out over my own cries. But the sound of his voice was soothing. I clung to him, as if trying to save myself from drowning — a rock in a stormy sea of despair.
What was I going to do? I couldn’t remain here for the rest of my life. Would I live to be some decrepit old woman wrapped in a shawl of fear and regrets? And, if the golden-haired woman figured out how to get past the gates, then what? Would I beg her to end it quickly?
Why was she doing this?
At that thought I stopped crying. Why was she doing this?
I let go of Chris and stood on my own. He rose with me.
“Why is she doing this?” I asked. Chris reached to wipe the tears from my face, but I backed up and did it myself.
He lowered his hand. “We don’t know.”
“Who is she?”
My Aunt waddled over. “We think she’s one of the older fey folk.” She looked to where the fox had swept past the gate. “Let’s go inside, where I have some protection from her overhearing us.”
I looked to the gates. The fox was gone, but I couldn’t help but feel the golden-haired woman was watching me.
We walked back into the house in silence and I took my position on the sofa, Chris across from me. This time he looked a little more relaxed.
“All right,” I said, taking a calming breath. Apparently there was no getting off this roller coaster ride, so I figured I might as well hold on tight, even if I couldn’t enjoy it. “Let’s try this again. Tell me everything you know. And start at the beginning.”
Aunt Marigold poured herself another cup of tea. I figured this was going to be a strange tale, so I sat back, trying to keep an open mind.
“Well,” Aunt Marigold said, “we know that this seems to have started in 1891, when a man called Thomas Gregory died from drowning. He was twenty-four years old. After that, every eldest child has died somewhere in their twenty-fifth year.”
I nodded. I’d seen the dates Mother had written out.
“And my mother knew about this, didn’t she?”
Aunt Marigold nodded. Her look was solemn. “I’m afraid I told her that adopting you might end this.”
What?
I took a breath. Having emotional outbursts was getting me nowhere and wouldn’t get me what I needed to know.
I gritted my teeth. “All right,” I said. “Do you know how she treated me growing up?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry, child. I had no idea she would do what she did. I had only meant to end this. Your father thought the whole thing was nonsense. I tried to warn him, even from a young age, but he wouldn’t listen.” She paused. “Neither would his father, nor his father, nor my twin brother — your great-great-grandfather.”
Great-great-grandfather?
“How old are you?” I asked.
Aunt Marigold smiled. “One hundred and twenty,” she said, “and long ready to move on, but not until I’ve seen the blight on our family removed.”
“One hundred and twenty?” She didn’t look a day over seventy. “Why aren’t you in some kind of record book? You should be all over the news!”
Aunt Marigold fiddled with some of the rings on her fingers. “I have no telephone, nor television service; nothing that might ask for my age. I live as if I don’t exist.”
“How is that even possible?”
She smiled. “There are beings and powers in this world that can do many things, even extend a human life for a time, but they always have their price.” There was sorrow in her eyes.
A thought struck me then. “Wait a minute, you said twin brother. Why aren’t you dead too?”
“It’s either one of a few explanations,” she said. “One, I’m a woman. All of the family that has died at the age of twenty-four have been men. Of course, each generation had born only one child.”
“Is that why my mother adopted a girl?”
My Aunt shook her head. “She didn’t care what the sex of the child was. She only wanted to adopt before she got pregnant herself. I had hoped that perhaps you wouldn’t be harmed if I had found them a girl to adopt. But now I see it was a poor assumption.” She took a sip of her tea. “It leaves me with only one other explanation. Although I was a twin, I was the youngest of the two. My brother was born first.” She looked around her. “But to be prudent, I’ve been in hiding all my life.”
“Who is she?” I asked. “And what does she want?”
Aunt Marigold rose, looking flush. She ambled to the window and put her fingers to her neck. Then she turned and there was a look of horror on her face.
She started to gasp and clutched her chest.
“Oh my god!” I ran over to her, trying to help her to the ground before she fell. Chris grabbed her other arm and eased her down.
“Call the ambulance!” I yelled.
“There’s no phone!”
“Cell!”
“Aunt Marigold,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
My Aunt tried to speak, but breath barely escaped her lips.
“No bars!” Chris said, and ran outside.
“T-t-t…,” my aunt whispered, and then her eyes closed and went still.
No!
This wasn’t happening.
Then I realized Chris had run outside.
Oh my god!
I bolted after him. “Chris!”
I ran out and didn’t see him in the immediate vicinity.
Please, no!
I stumbled through the winding path of the garden, the towering hollyhocks impeding my view.
“Chris!”
I reached the front gates. They were open.
No!
He was nowhere to be seen.
“Chris!” I yelled.
My feet froze. I was petrified to step outside the gates. Searching for signs of the fox, or any other creature, failed to reveal anything.
I put a toe out.
Nothing happened.
“Chris!”
Then, I thought I heard him speaking. It was down at the roadside where we’d left the car.
Chris!
I bolted. I didn’t care what was going to happen. I needed to know he was safe. I needed to know I wasn’t going to be left alone and stuck in some old cottage for the rest of my years.
I rounded the bend and found him, leaning against the car. He had his cell phone to one ear and his finger stuck in the other. He was yelling into the phone the location of the house.
“Chris!” I yelled.
He saw me and nodded acknowledgement. He put his finger to his lips to shush me while he talked.
He lowered his head, as if straining to hear.
I didn’t slow my run. Something felt wrong.
Seconds later, I noticed it.
A car was barreling down the highway, from behind Chris.
“Chris!” I yelled.
He motioned for me to keep it down, and turned away.
My legs picked up speed.
I watched the car. Surely it was just a figment of my imagination that it, too, was increasing speed.
Please, no!
My heart raced.
I didn’t care about anything right now. I only wanted to get to Chris.
The car showed no sign of slowing, and I looked at the driver. It was a woman.
She had golden hair.
Shit!
“Chris!”
He wasn’t hearing me.
My legs ached, but I pushed them harder.
The car sped up. It was aiming for Chris.
I raced.
The car’s engine made little noise as it closed in. The golden-haired woman was smiling at me, that same sickening grin she’d given me before.
Not this time, bitch!
Throwing myself at Chris hard, just like I’d done countless times before in rugby practice, I prayed I could get us both clear as I heard the engine of the car roar in my ears.
Chapter 14
The first thing that ran through my mind was the pain in my shoulder as I launched myself into Chris. It was like throwing myself at a slab of beef. The resulting sensation ripped down my back.
I heard no screeching brakes, only the crunching of metal that clattered in my ears. I winced as the two of us flew towards the pavement.
I waited for the car to strike me in the legs, but was relieved when all I felt was the two of us slamming into the ground. We both rolled. The phone flew and smashed into pieces as it struck the road.
We rolled into the ditch on the other side as both cars exploded. I was glad I wasn’t roadside for the blast. I would have been pierced by the metal and glass shards that flew.
Chris moaned. His face was scraped where he’d hit the pavement.
I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when I saw the blood trickling down his face. It wasn’t sparkling, nor was it green. It was the same color as my own, which was flowing from my nose. My face had done a nice job of smacking into his legs as we’d rolled.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “You’re bleeding.” He looked around for something to hand me, but I waved him off, pinching my nose.
“So are you,” I said and pointed to his head.
Another explosion thundered. We both winced and ducked. A tire rolled past us and into the woods. We both looked to the flaming cars.
“We better get back to the house fast,” he said, and yanked me up by the arm.
Before another car came along, or any other disaster struck, we ran for the protection of Aunt Marigold’s house.
The golden-haired woman was nowhere to be seen.
There were mixed feelings running through me as we sprinted for safety. My Aunt was dead in the house, we’d almost been killed, I was trapped within the confines of the iron gates, and I was in pain.
I started to limp towards the house. I was sure the police would show up soon, and they’d likely have a lot of questions.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to stick around for them.
Chris grabbed my arm and pulled me close. “You saved my life.” He held me to him.
It had been an instinctual thing. I wasn’t going to let him die. Despite whatever he was, my feelings about him weren’t going to just disappear that easily. I still needed to sort him out, but there were other more pressing matters.
I hugged him quickly and then left him to make my way back into the house.
Aunt Marigold’s body hadn’t moved. I was sort of relieved since I wasn’t sure what to expect any longer. I wasn’t sure if she’d rise from the dead, become a zombie, or go vampire. The whole world had turned upside down as far as I was concerned.
I was also greatly saddened. She’d obviously meant for me to get here to be safe, had been trying for generations to sort out this family curse, and now was gone.
Brokk was sitting next to her, stroking her face with his meaty hand. Little tears were running down his cheeks. I did the only thing that made sense. I picked him up and held him to me. His body shook with quiet sobs.
Chris entered the house.
“So, what are we going to do?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I don’t know if I can stay here. If the police come and see my dead Aunt and the cars out there, they’ll be asking a lot of questions. They may even want to take me in for questioning. On the other hand, I can’t leave this place. How am I supposed to tell the police that if I leave here, I’ll be killed.”
I felt Brokk poking me.
I looked down and he was shaking his head.
“No? I won’t be killed?” I asked him.
He shook his head. He tried motioning something with his hands, but it was totally lost on me. I looked at Chris. “Do you speak troll?”
“He’s not a troll,” Chris said. “And, yes, I can talk to him.”
“There’s no need,” said a voice. Chris whipped around to see who was there, but I already knew. There was no mistaking the deep silkiness of that voice. In that moment, a rush of pain and longing was resurrected. I forced myself to turn, despite the stinging in my heart.
A man with sandy hair stood in the doorway. He was about a head taller than Chris with coals for eyes and dimpled cheeks. His elfin face was still cloaked in beautiful.
My heart jumped out of my chest. I’d hoped not to see him, but now that I laid eyes on him, it was like I was sixteen all over again.
“Jonathan,” I whispered. Chris said it with me in unison, but his tone was a lot less favorable.
I wasn’t sure how Chris knew his name, but somehow it didn’t matter. A mix of bitter and sweet was pulsing through my veins.
“Katherine,” Jonathan said. His gaze remained on me alone. He opened his arms.
I considered leaving him standing there, but my legs decided to walk over to him of their own accord. His hug was like a warm duvet.
Chris stepped forward. “Katherine, he’s—”
“—glad you’re here,” Jonathan said. He looked over to Aunt Marigold’s body and then approached, kneeling beside her.
He touched her face, sadness in his own. “Brokk told me she’d been taken. That’s why I came. We knew this day would come,” he muttered. “She’d been telling me this for months.”
“Chris,” I said, “maybe we should give him a moment alone.”
A single tear slid down Jonathan’s cheek. “Thank you.”
We slipped through the door, leaving Jonathan to his mourning. Unsure of what to do, we walked towards the gates, listening for the sounds of sirens and searching for signs of the golden-haired woman.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Chris said.
I nodded. He was right. I felt guilty for wanting to leave. It felt dishonest. Yet that self-preservation gene was giving me a kick in the backside that I knew I needed to listen to. I couldn’t stay here.
“A couple of minutes won’t hurt,” I said.
We stood there watching the trees, listening.
“Where will I go?” I finally asked. It was starting to eat at me.
“Brokk says there’s another safe house. It used to be your family’s old home.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Southeast. It’s going to take us a few days to get there. We’ll have to walk.”
“Unless Jonathan has a car,” I said.
“Even if he did, we can’t take it. The roads are unsafe. And it won’t take long for the police to figure out who we are and start looking for us. We’re better off taking the less common routes for now. And it’s easy enough to pretend we’re tourists hiking across the country.”
“But won’t she find me once I step outside those gates?”
“No,” said that silken voice behind us. With Brokk on his shoulder, Jonathan approached. His eyes were red. “Marigold had a broach that kept
her safe for a few days at a time. That should protect you long enough for us to get you to your family home.”
“Protect me?”
“Well, more like hide you. Those with fey sight won’t be able to see you.”
“What about you?” I asked Chris.
“Oh, I’m half human. I’ll be able to see you.” He looked at Jonathan. “And what’s this about us?”
“I’m coming with you,” Jonathan said. The dimpled grin I had once loved was lighting up his face.
Chapter 15
Chris didn’t look pleased about Jonathan coming with us. “How can we trust you?” he said. “You show up just after Marigold dies, and we’re almost killed? How convenient.”
Jonathan didn’t look fazed. “Think what you want, but Marigold knew this day would come. It wasn’t really a surprise.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. It killed any argument that might have happened between the two, and we darted into the house. “Where’s this broach?” I asked.
Jonathan ran over to a little wooden box, the same kind as the one I had. He reached inside and grabbed an ugly old-lady broach with a dark red stone. I recognized it instantly. My Aunt had worn it on a trip into town that summer. He pinned it to my shirt with care, winking at me.
We were starting to flee out the door when I stopped.
“What about Brokk?” I said.
Jonathan waved me off, and headed to the back of the garden, towards the trees. I followed with Chris taking up the rear.
“He’ll be fine,” Chris said.
We reached another gate at the back, hidden amongst the foxglove. Jonathan opened it, and I hesitated to step out, my foot wavering.
“Come on!” Jonathan said.
Chris put his hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right, Katherine. We’ll protect you.”
I looked at him. I wasn’t so sure he’d be able to. And as for Jonathan, he had the same mischievous look I remembered as a teenager. I wasn’t sure I could trust what he said about this red bauble that was dangling from my shirt.
The sirens were getting louder.
Jonathan offered his hand. “Trust me,” he said, as if reading my mind. “Marigold used this and she was fine.”
Broken: A Paranormal Romance Page 8