by N. K. Vir
The feral undertone of his voice had snapped her back to reality. She did as he commanded she ran, not caring where her feet fled to. Her vision blurred and her lungs burned, then suddenly she was flying.
The sudden impact of the ground sent air flying out of her lungs. Her throat was making a strange sound, her palms and knees were on fire. She didn’t care about any of that; she was more concerned with the thought that she was never going to breathe again. She tried to get to her feet but failed and landed hard on her already sore knees. She tried willing her chest to move, and then she tried begging. She swore to any deity that would listen that she would never, ever again hold her breath if she could just breathe now. Her blurry vision darkened. Her body’s muscles suddenly seemed incapable of holding her up. She was dying and she knew it. She wasn’t afraid like she thought she would be. She didn’t see her life flash before her eyes.
Or did she?
The last thing she remembered before the darkness of death took her was a soft voice tinged with a soft burr telling her to breathe. Then she sank willingly into the darkness.
She felt her spirit, her essence, her soul? She wasn’t sure what to call herself now that she was dead. Ghost, sure that worked. She felt her ghost leave her body. She frowned down at her crumpled form. Why as she so dirty? What was she wearing? Strange dark leggings covered her legs; a darker tunic covered her torso exposing her long pale arms. Her ghostly face frowned. Where was the color? Oh, there it was strapped to her feet. Well, she gave a ghostly shrug, at least it was pink. She drifted closer to her fleshy husk. Was her hair really that dark and short? Maybe it was the odd light the large false stars were casting. Her face was smudged with dirt and small bits of rock clung to one pale cheek. Her cheeks were never pale. Duncan had always said they were the color of a soft pink rose.
Duncan.
She pushed away from her poorly made twin and searched the area for him. Nothing around her looked familiar. There were too many dwellings shoved so close together. A large stone structure stood in front of her. It was ugly and had far too many windows.
She hoped people did not actually live here like this. There was no grass, no green rolling hills dotted with wild flowers. It looked like a prison. Her eyes searched for nature, trees, and creatures anything that would remind her of home.
Beyond the ugly stone structure was a road, at least it resembled a road. It was black and looked like it was made of thousands of melted bits of stone. Large metallic beasts with clear dead eyes slumbered on top of the foreign road. Beyond that were trees and a small grassy area that was caged in by a black arrow shaped fence. She felt anger rise up in her. She must be in the natural world for only humans would try to cage in nature. She reached down for her power. She would free the earth from the human grip. She raised her ghostly arms and focused her eyes on the offensive fence, and froze.
Duncan stood there gripping the offensive gate; his gaze looked through her to the strangely dressed girl lying motionless on the ground. Her heart bled for him. He was such a noble creature. Human suffering had always bothered him. It was one of the many reasons she had fallen in love with him when he was little more than a boy. He had always protected those weaker than him.
With a thought she was in front of him.
He had changed, but only slightly. The boy she had known was gone, a man, a beautiful man stood before her now. His lean boyish frame was gone only to be replaced by the steely frame of a warrior. His chest had thickened, his shoulders had broadened. His face had filled in; his jaw was wrapped in the shadow of a newly growing beard. His hair still fell about his face in the same way curling recklessly about his head. His nose had a slightly different angle as though it had been broken. His full lips were drawn down in sadness. But it was his eyes that startled her the most. The colors that swirled like liquid mercury were filled with heart wrenching pain as he gazed at her poor copy lying motionless on the ground.
She reached out her arms to enfold him in a comforting embrace, and fell through him. His body shuddered as she passed through him. What sort of dark magick was this?
“No,” the sound of his voice was raw and filled with emotion.
“No, runsearc,” she whispered into his ear.
He shuddered again as he spun towards her voice. His eyes darted in the darkness searching for the origin of her voice. She watched as his hand grasped for a sword that was not attached to his hip. She quirked a brow at him and blew out a ghostly sigh.
“Meadowsweet,” he exhaled closing his eyes. “You are gone,” he said falling to his knees sobbing.
English? Why was he speaking in English?
“Tell me who and they shall fall before I do,” he said promising the empty air.
She thought that was a strange request and did not understand what he meant by it.
“She cannot for she does not know,” said a familiar female voice.
“Caelia” she and Duncan hissed in unison.
A ghostly memory gnawed at her but slipped away when she tried to recall it. It left her with one word, one heart stabbing emotion; betrayal.
“Say her name,” Caelia demanded from the shadows.
“No,” Duncan snapped back.
The shadow figure pointed through her towards the girl lying broken on the road. “Say her name.” Duncan’s gaze followed the path towards the girl’s body a whimper escaped his throat as his eyes fell upon her again. “Say her name. Neither can survive without the other. Say it!”
Duncan inhaled a long deep breath in preparation for the anguished shout that he threw from his throat the next instant, “Annie!”
Her ghost was sucked violently backwards as it traveled with the air and filled Annie’s lungs. Her eyes popped open as she filled her oxygen starved lungs. The air was tinged with salt and meadowsweet. Her body folded in half as she shot herself to a seated position. Her chest heaving; still struggling to inhale, she ached with every breath she drew into her body. A shaky hairy hand reached out to her shoulder.
Her wide eyes traced the foreign hand to and equally hairy arm, to a shoulder and up to a neck followed by a grinning face. Her eyes popped out of her head as Puss in Boots’ smile widened before he spoke. “Hello lass,” he greeted. “Me name’s Knackers. Knackers the Great,” he said puffing out his chest and giving her a wink.
She felt her eyes roll back into her head as darkness consumed her again.
Annie slowly slipped back into awareness. First her ears awakened to murmured sounds. Voices she realized, but none that she was familiar with. She was sure she could hear two distinct voices, one female and one male. She tried to remain calm and keep her breathing steady and even.
“Did ye have ta hit the poor thing so hard?” The female voice asked.
“Should I ‘ave let the metal demon ‘it ‘er then?” A male voice spat back.
Metal demon? She felt like she had been hit by a truck. A truck! Her memory came screaming back then. The flash of headlights coming towards her, being tackled from behind, a big scary dog, Duncan tells her to run.
“Duncan!” she hadn’t realized she had screamed his name till a small hand patted her arm. She heard soft cooing noises. They sounded tender and motherly. The warm hand disappeared. Annie tried to open eyes but her head throbbed with the effort. She felt a cool cloth being pressed on her forehead and sighed. A soft scent drifted to her nose. She concentrated on that scent and decided it was lavender. She felt the throb in her head lessen slightly and tried to open her eyes again.
Her eyes felt glued together, heavy and swollen like she had been crying. If her eyes looked as bad as they felt she was in trouble. She forced them open, losing a few eyelashes in the process. Her vision was blurry and trying to focus made her head swim and her stomach roll.
“Try an’ sleep,” said the motherly voice.
Since her eyes seemed to be of little use she tried her voice. She felt her lips move but no sound escaped them. Her throat was dry. Damn why had she done that shot of
whiskey? She never drank that much. Well at least her brain was waking up from its alcoholic slumber. Yes the alcohol explained a lot. The strange scary dog as big as a cow? Just a large escaped dog, nothing unusual about that. Her bizarre conversation with Duncan? Flights of fancy left over from her childhood. The truck lights? Well that made more sense; she must have stumbled into the road, a near miss. In fact she had probably dreamed the whole thing. What about the cool cloth, the scent of lavender, the small accented motherly voice, where did they come from? Of course, it was Kat. In the morning she would have to apologize and make it up to her.
“Sure but that doesn’t’ explain me,” said a voice inside her head.
Now she was hearing voices. She had way too much to drink. Enough, she decided. I’m going to fall asleep and forget this whole terrible night tomorrow everything will be better; except for that pounding. What was that noise?
Her ears strained to listen. She caught snippets of words and voices. She recognized a voice, the tone, the way certain words dropped letters or how others seem to roll off his tongue. His tongue, Duncan’s tongue. A moan that even to her ears sounded like his name fell out of her mouth. There was silence for a moment followed by the sounds of struggle and the loud crash of something breaking.
“That is enough!” Shouted a shrilly all too familiar voice. A weak smile crossed Annie’s face. She knew that tone, that was Kat and Kat was angry; and when Kat got angry stuff got broken.
A disturbing thought crept across her mind. If Kat was breaking things out there who was in here with her?
“I’m Fiona,” said the motherly voice as if it had read her mind. Okay at least she wasn’t imagining someone sitting next to her.
“Water,” Annie managed to croak. Since the unknown visitor seemed to be so comforting Annie pressed her luck and continued to believe it meant her no harm. If she could moisten her dry burning throat maybe she could ask questions and get answers; because the images and thoughts rattling around in her head made no sense.
She felt her head being lifted off the bed, a glass pressed to her lips, she felt water flow into her mouth and she began to greedily drink. Breathe, she reminded herself, you promised to breathe. The glass was removed from her lips; her head fell back onto the pillows grateful for the soft landing.
“Rest bhanphriosa,” the soothing voice whispered.
Her eyes snapped open. She blinked rapidly clearing the haze that covered her eyes. Her vision focused on the blurry face that wavered in front of her. Slowly her eyes took in the details. A small child-like face loomed above her. A dwarf, no, that wasn’t what they liked to be called, a little person sat on the edge of her bed. Her kind, warm brown eyes smiled down at her. Her plump ruddy cheeks bunched up under her eyes as her bow-like mouth spread into a motherly grin.
“There’s me bonny lass,” the tiny woman said. Her voice was so kind and loving like her eyes that Annie couldn’t help but manage a weak smile in return. What a sweet Bean Tighe, she thought.
Her body rocketed upright.
Her head immediately protested as her temples began pounding. Bile rose in her throat as her stomach debated rising in revolt with her head. She clamped a hand over her mouth in an attempt to quell her body’s rebellion, she knew this was a battle she would probably lose but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try and win. With energy she didn’t know she possessed she launched herself off the bed toppling the Bean Tighe/little person onto the floor as she bolted for the door and raced to make her appointment with the porcelain god.
She exploded out the door stumbling into her kitchen that was crowded with bodies. She stumbled, large hands reached out to grab her. Hands still clamped over her mouth she threw her elbows out in self-defense catching the jaw of Griffin in the process. He muttered a curse and steered her in the direction of her bathroom. He shoved her inside and quickly slid the door closed, but not before Annie saw the hulking shadow of another figure. Annie could only think of one person whose shadow could dwarf Griffin. It was he last thought before her stomach heaved spilling its contents
.
An eternity later her faculties under control she slipped away from her porcelain devotions and heaved herself into the shower. Her fumbling hands managed to work the knobs into the right position and she was rewarded with a steaming flow of water. She lay in the tub relishing the warmth of the water. Her head and stomach had declared a truce and left her feeling almost normal; drained but normal. She struggled to her feet and reached blindly for her shampoo.
She scrubbed the parts of her that would allow her and gingerly cleansed the ones that protested. Her knees and hands had absorbed the brunt of her fall. They were scraped but the bleeding had long since stopped. Her ribcage and sternum felt bruised but nothing hurt too badly even when she took a deep breath, which meant no broken bones. Someone, or something, she thought with a slight wince had knocked her out of the way of a truck. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the seconds after her fall. She remembered the terrifying sensation of her lungs deflating, and the struggle to breathe that followed. Then she must have passed out. Someone had screamed her name and air had suddenly filled her lungs. Then there was a face. No, it wasn’t truly a face, there were animal features mingled with human ones.
She pressed a hand to her head as the other one fumbled to turn off the shower. She stood still, shivering from the lack of heat as her mind tried to make sense of what her jumbled vision had shown her. When her teeth began to chatter she forced her arms into her thick terry cloth robe. She refused the ceremony of toweling herself dry. She was cold, battered, bruised and sore and that was only her body. Her mind convinced the rest of her that she was alert enough to get an answer to least one question before she would allow exhaustion to overtake her.
She threw open the bathroom door and marched, as proudly as her wobbly legs would take her, into her kitchen. Her brain rapidly counted six bodies stuffed into her kitchen, but she only cared about one. There was only one face, one voice she wanted to see and hear. He held the truth. Only he could tell her if everything was fantasy or reality.
She braced her hands on the door jamb and sucked in a deep calming breath before she asked the question that could change her life. “Where is he?” she growled. The harshness in her voice surprised even her. She closed her eyes in an attempt to will her anger away.
When her eyes opened the group had parted to reveal the haggard looking figure of Duncan. His face looked pale and he cringed as she shot him a nasty glare. One eye appeared puffy as if he had sustained a shot to it. He looked as deflated as she felt. For the briefest moment she considered throwing herself at him. She could easily imagine wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder as she searched for the comfort she craved. His arms would wrap around her and pull her onto his lap. He would hold her close, whispering soothing words into her hair as he gently stoked her back. His lips would fall on her eyes, her cheeks and the soft hollow of her neck…
What the hell was wrong with her?
“No,” she ground out between clenched teeth. Her eyes drifted open, the room threatened to spin again. Through the force of will she halted the world from tilting.
Impressive, the word whispered through her mind. She shoved all this aside and focused.
“No,” she repeated. “Not him. Where is the –cat man?”
“Wag-by-the-way,” corrected a cheerful voice. “Ye called?”
At first she saw nothing. Just as she was ready to relax her eyes lowered and in front of her stood a squat cat-like man covered in gray fur. Shit, Puss in Boots was real. His feline features scrunched in concern as she felt her blood leave her face. Her knees buckled and six bodies rushed towards her. Her fingers dug into the door frame as she struggled to hold herself up. She refused to lose consciousness again; it would only mean starting from scratch. She took an unsteady step into the kitchen. The Scottish sounding Puss in Boots shadowed her arms outstretched as if he meant to catch her if s
he fell. She felt laughter well up inside her and become audible. She clamped a hand over her mouth and forced the sound down.
“Out,” she growled. “All of you but-“she pointed at Puss in Boots and the little person who hoovered nervously by her bedroom, “you two.” When no one moved her chest expanded “OUT!” she bellowed.
Chairs scraped across the floor as three people scurried to obey the command. Her friends she realized. A bevy of emotions crossed their faces as they made their way past her. Only Griffin paused. He reached out a tentative hand, when she didn’t dodge the comfort he reached for her chin. He tilted her face to meet his eyes where she saw nothing but concern. Kat clutched at his other arm her eyes mirroring his, Robert stood silently behind them anger rolling off of him.
“You sure?” He asked nodding his head in the direction of the three beings that still inhabited her house. Annie nodded not trusting her voice.
A low growl emanating from the kitchen broke through the silence. Griffin and Robert tensed threatening to jump in front of Annie, only Kat’s hands stayed their move and she ushered them out the door without another word. The door closed softly behind them and Annie understood how Alice felt when she fell down the rabbit hole.
There was still one body she needed to extract from her house. Her eyes couldn’t look at him. She was afraid if she did her resolve would weaken and she would beg him to stay.
She kept her eyes glued to the floor as she made her way to her bedroom. “Duncan,” she said as she inhaled a shuddering breath. “Get out.” She stepped into her room and threw herself on the bed. She buried herself under the covers and shoved a pillow over her head to drown out any protests he might voice.
By the grace of the powers that be sleep found her moments later. Her sleep was not dreamless. It was haunted by glowing eyes and the feeling that death was coming.
Chapter Twelve