Destroy, Book 2, Whispers From the Bayou

by Sandra R Neeley

  Destroy lifted a hand, waving it in the air, “It’s nothing. I like playing with Lily. She makes me smile.” He didn’t move his head, but moved his eyes to look at Lily. “You’re a smart girl, aren’t you?” Then he tossed his head a bit to make the ribbons on his horns dance about, “And very talented, too! My horns are unmatched in dress!”

  He held his smile in place until Carnage disappeared inside the home with Lily on his shoulders, taking her for a snack.

  Then, Destroy dropped his head back on his shoulders, huffing a huge sigh, “When is Lore coming by? Doesn’t he come here every day?”

  “Pretty much,” Carolena answered. “Even if only for a little while.”

  “I’ve been here for hours, and he’s not shown up yet. You would think he’s avoiding me or something!” Destroy complained.

  “He is,” Carolena answered flatly.

  “Why?! What did I do?” Destroy asked, seemingly genuinely surprised.

  “You know why! You pester him with questions about Rowan every single time you see him. And when you don’t see him, you wander through the swamp shouting your questions to the air in general.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have to if he’d answer me!” Destroy snapped.

  “Have you thought about going back to the way you used to approach Lore? Perhaps that would make him less likely to avoid you,” Carolena advised. “You have changed quite a bit, you know.”

  “I didn’t approach Lore at all. I feared him. So I stayed away,” he explained.

  “And what makes now any different? You still fear him,” Carolena said, busy cleaning up the powder all over the table, and gathering the extra ribbons her daughter left behind.

  “Because he knows where my woman is. And he won’t tell me. He won’t even tell me anything about her! And it’s been a long, long time. She might need me! What if she’s found someone else?” Destroy rattled off.

  “Destroy… ” Carolena started.

  “I even offered to owe him a favor. Yes! Me! I offered him a favor! And still he ignored me. He didn’t even take shape, just misted on past like I wasn’t even standing there speaking.”

  “Destroy!” Carolena tried again.

  He seemed to realize he was rambling, “What?”

  “You must understand Lore. He has no concept of time. It is probably the only thing that’s saved his sanity. He does not measure his existence in the passing of time. Rather, he measures it by moving from one task to another. Apparently she doesn’t need either of you yet, or he’d have come for you.” Carolena tried to explain that Lore didn’t think in the same terms as any other being. He simply wasn’t like them.

  “Then why did he tell me about her if he didn’t plan on bringing her to me for such a long time?” Destroy pouted. “It’s like he just wanted to irritate me. To have something to hold over me for as long as possible.”

  Carolena didn’t answer, but when he looked at her to be sure she’d heard him, she raised an eyebrow.

  “Really? He just wanted to torture me?” Destroy asked, flabbergasted.

  “Well, you did spend an awful lot of time warning people not to trust him because he was evil,” she answered. “He’s not all evil, Destroy. But you never gave him a chance. And you warned everyone else not to either, so maybe, I don’t know for sure, but maybe, it was his way of getting back at you a little.”

  Destroy sat at the picnic table, his lower jaw hanging open, a stupid look on his face. Then worry and a little fear crossed his face. “Do you think he made her up? Do you think I really don’t have a woman that will be mine?”

  Carolena didn’t like that he was uncertain and worried, but his impatience was the root of the whole problem, “Destroy, she is real. I’ve met her. You just need to be patient and realize that Lore does things in his own time. There is a method to his madness.”

  “Indeed,” said a rich, deep voice that seemed to surround them.

  “Lore!” Destroy exclaimed, jumping up to face the male that had materialized behind him.

  “Hello, Lore,” Carolena said warmly, walking over to embrace the male, ignoring the slight mist still swirling about her feet.

  “Carolena, dear, good evening,” Lore said, providing his cheek for her to kiss.

  Lore turned his attention to Destroy, his mouth starting a slow curve at the Gargoyle’s appearance.

  “Have you come to play with Lily?” Carolena asked.

  “I’ve been playing with Lily all day, dear. I’ve come for Destroy,” he answered.

  “You did?” Destroy stepped forward, “You came for me? Rowan needs me? Finally?” Destroy asked, so jittery he almost vibrated with anticipation.

  “Perhaps,” Lore answered. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes! I’ve been trying to tell you that for months and months and months! Were you not listening?” Destroy demanded.

  “I tried not to. But, ‘twas rather pointless,” he answered in a bored tone. “You are rather grating upon my nerves, Gargoyle,” Lore said with an edge of irritation in his voice as he regarded the ribboned, powdered and red-lipped male in front of him.

  Destroy shocked him when he dropped all pretense, looking him straight in the eye, he said, “I’m lonely.”

  Lore watched him, taking his measure, “Then mayhap you have become the male she needs.”

  “I will be anything she needs!” Destroy said forcefully.

  “Do not forget yourself, Gargoyle. You will be pained if you do,” Lore warned. Lore simply stood, watching Destroy for a few moments.

  Destroy couldn’t take it, he snapped, “Well, what are you waiting for? Bring her to me!”

  Lore’s laughter filled the air, a trace of the manic disposition still tainting it, “Oh, I’m not bringing her to you; I’m taking you to her,” he announced as he suddenly dissipated into the thick roiling purple mist he was known for, wrapped around Destroy, and they began to fade from view.

  Destroy’s voice could be heard murmuring a string of Catholic prayers as they faded away, and Carolena thought at the last moment to shout after him, “Close your eyes, Destroy! You don’t want to see some of the things that live in Lore’s world!” She didn’t know if he heard her or not, but she hoped he did.

  Carnage came back outside with Lily walking behind him, proudly carrying a plate laden with breads and jams. Carnage carried a pitcher of sarsaparilla and another plate with sausages and cheeses.

  “Leenah,” he said, “eeeat.”

  “That looks really good!” she said as her husband placed his plate and pitcher on the table and turned to take the plate from Lily. Naturally, she refused to give it up, “No! I do it,” she told her Papa. Carnage didn’t hesitate. Instead of taking the plate from her, he just lifted her, so she could place it on the table next to the one he’d already put there.

  While they sat and ate, Carolena thought of what Lore had said earlier. He’d said he’d been playing with Lily all day. “Lily?”

  Lily looked at her mother, her mouth full of the bread and jam she’d carried out.

  “Did you play with Uncle Lore today?” Carolena asked.

  Lily nodded, “Unh-huh,” she said, as she took a bite of cheese.

  “What did you play?” she asked.

  “Dwess up,” Lily answered.

  Carolena started smiling, thinking she knew the answer to her next question, “Did he help you dress up Uncle Destroy?”

  “Yes!” Lily answered. “UncLore” she said, using the words Uncle and Lore as though they were one combined word, “likes ‘de wibbons.”

  Carolena dissolved into laughter realizing Lore had been the one to tie the ribbons on Destroy’s horns when his back was turned, while Lily had powdered his head and face and put the lipstick on him.

  Chapter 2

  It had been several hours since Mr. Ashlar had come to her room, and the house was now silent. Since she couldn’t sleep, she decided to get up and start her duties. It was only a couple of hours before dawn when she went to the kitchen
and started the fire in the massive, wood-burning stove. She’d finished the biscuits and had them ready to bake. She turned on the water in the sink and cleaned away the dough sticking to her fingers. The cool water felt good in the overheated kitchen. She ran some more water over her fingers and wiped them across the back of her neck. She’d not been able to have a bath last night and glancing around the still dark kitchen, listening to the still quiet house, decided to clean up a bit now.

  Rowan removed her apron and draped it across the back of the chair; then, once again facing the sink, she reached behind herself and unbuttoned the three buttons at the top of her dress. She shrugged her shoulders, causing the dress to slide down her arms a bit, then went at the remaining few buttons from the bottom. She didn’t take the dress off, but let it fall just enough from her shoulders and began running a cool, wet cloth across her face and neck. She held the cloth under the water again, wrung it out, and reaching behind herself, wiped the back of her neck and upper shoulders clean. She reached out to again rinse the cloth and was shocked to be slammed into from behind. The high counter top jambed into her stomach, knocking the air from her. Rowan braced her hands on the edge of the sink to push herself back against her attacker, but he swiped her wrists off the edge of the sink. Rowan’s hands wet from her mini bath offered no resistance. Her attacker had his entire body pressing hers against the counter, holding her in place. One hand across the back of her neck, holding her face down in the sink, the cold water still running as she struggled to lift herself back to a standing position. The struggle was futile. She just wasn’t strong enough to overcome the surprise attack, and he had her legs kicked apart, his own feet planted wide between them, keeping her from regaining her balance. But still she fought him. She felt the hand of his free arm as it roamed her body, feeling parts of her only a lover should feel. Rowan screamed, she tried to wriggle away from him. Her hands, now in front of her, struggled for purchase in the bottom of the wet sink. At least drowning wasn’t a problem; it was a sink, and the water was swirling in the bottom before draining from it. Until the wash cloth she’d been using slid into the drain and blocked it. Rowan fought even harder and managed to lift her upper body somewhat up and away from the sink, which infuriated the man holding her in his grip. Her attacker removed his arm from across her neck and wrapped his hand in her hair, shoving her head back down into the sink. She couldn’t open her mouth to call out now that her head had been shoved under the running water of the faucet, nor could she look away from the water starting to rise; panic set in. Rowan found a whole new level of fight and went wild, thrashing her body left to right, reaching back to claw at the hand and arm holding her face down in the sink, water still running down her head, her long dark hair having come loose from its pins, now beginning to float in the water around her. But all it did was enrage her attacker. He reached forward and punched her from the side. She couldn’t exhale, couldn’t inhale, her ribs were on fire, and tears filled her eyes. Then, she heard him, “I gave you a chance to come to me willingly, girl. Now you will take me on my terms,” he snarled at her from behind.

  Rowan felt the fingers of Mr. Ashlar’s hand as he grasped the opening of her dress and ripped it straight down. Strips of cloth from the back of the simple garment fell in tatters about her legs as she struggled to get air into her lungs and to turn her head to avoid taking water into them as well.

  Abraham was drunk, in a rage of need and frustration as he watched the girl clean her hands in the sink. He was angry, resentful. He’d welcomed this girl into his home, trusted her to do her part, work off her family’s debt in servitude to him. But his desire for her had grown, he was no longer able to control it, and he was known among all the circles he moved in for his immaculate self-control. It was witchery, had to be. He’d heard murmurings among others of his staff that the girl was a gypsy, a witch even. They’d said her entire people were known for their magic and spells. She should not hold any power over him, not at all. Yet she plagued his dreams, even his waking hours, and it angered him greatly. He couldn’t let her go, refused to let her go. He watched as her wet fingers ran across the back of her neck. His hard cock jumped in response. He’d been hard for so long now, he didn’t remember a time he wasn’t in need. He thought of her spurning his attentions last night in this very room. He thought of her refusing to answer him at her door, and his anger grew. He was Abraham Ashlar, he controlled the lives and fortune of many men. He would not be made a fool of by one lowly girl. Sneer on his face, his breath caught as she reached behind herself and undid her buttons; then, he lost all reason when she shrugged the garment from her shoulders and ran the damp cloth against her skin. He’d lost all knowledge of his actions by the time he’d slammed into her from behind, forcing her off balance and pressing her against the cabinet where she stood.

  She fought him, and he liked it more than he did when a woman didn’t fight. But then she drew blood, using her nails against his arm, ripping his flesh. He reacted violently, punching her side until her fighting stopped. Then he adjusted his hold on her, tightening his hand in her hair and forcing her head and upper body deeper into the sink. He smiled when he realized it lifted her bottom higher into the air, making it easier for him to access her. He held her there, face down in the bottom of the sink while he took in the sight before him. He tore the dress away from her back, leaning forward to run his tongue up her spine, when a deafening roar shook the room.

  Rowan was still feebly struggling against Mr. Ashlar. Her mind was now fuzzy, her side hurt, and she could barely take a breath between the water running down her face and her ribs where they throbbed. The water in the sink was steadily rising, and she may very well drown. She tried to turn her head to breathe, but Mr. Ashlar’s hand jerked her head back into place, and she ended up inhaling water instead. She was choking, coughing and had she been able to, would have cried out at the sharp pain radiating from her ribs. The water now completely covered her face and her tears mixed with the water, knowing this was it, this was her end. She held what little breath she’d managed to gasp, but it had only been a little, and she couldn’t hold it much longer. The fear, the anger, the outrage and unfairness of it all suffused her, and she loosed the hold she always held so fiercely on her powers. Rowan called on her ancestors, the elements, all in heaven and hell, to rain a curse down on the head and house of the man who was stealing her life from her just before blackness starting seeping into the outer edges of her watered vision. The weight of the man still against her back let her know there would be no reprieve. Then just as suddenly as she was hit from behind, his weight lifted, and she slipped toward the floor, unable to hold herself up, but aware that between her choking, gasping, water-filled breaths, she was at the very least managing to get a little oxygen into her body.

  Lore misted into the kitchen where Abraham was attacking Rowan. He placed Destroy on his feet and while the mist cleared, he turned Destroy to the scene before them, whispering into Destroy’s mind, There is your Rowan.

  Destroy only needed a split second to surmise what was happening and let out a roar that would have made Carnage proud. He rushed across the room and ripped the man from his Rowan, not even looking as he tossed the male over his shoulder and reached for Rowan as she slipped from the sink toward the floor. He caught her in his arms and went to the floor with her as he desperately checked her for breath and injury. He realized that she’d almost drowned when the water began to overflow the sink behind him and rain down upon the floor. The bastard had almost drowned his woman. He leaned close listening to her heartbeat — she breathed still, though shallowly. “Breathe, Rowan, deep, slow breaths. You are safe now. Breathe,” he said softly to her.

  Rowan’s eyes were closed, but she managed a barely perceptible nod. Then she used her left hand where it lay across her stomach to indicate her right side. Destroy followed her instruction and gently probed her ribs. She whimpered and tried to move her side away from him. Alert now that she was more injured than he though
t, he slowly began to tear what remained of the front of her dress, from the back forward, all the while murmuring, “Shh, you’re safe. I need to see your injury. I have to see how to help you.”

  She lay still as he tore her clothing away from her side and got a good look at the bluish bruising already raising with the swelling across her ribs.

  His eyes flashed with anger, he was barely containable, but he had to maintain control for Rowan. She needed him. “I’ll be gentle, sweetheart. Lie still.” Slowly and very, very gently he laid his hands on her rib cage, pressing ever so slightly to feel for imperfections. Then he felt it; there were distortions in three of her ribs. The bastard had broken three of her ribs. Destroy pushed himself back from Rowan and laid himself prone on the floor to try to get a better look at the injury. The bruising was on the right side of her body and wrapped as far as he could tell around toward her back. The breaks were probably more toward her back than her front. Filled with rage, he snapped. He rose up off the floor, roaring a non-stop battle cry, rushed across the room to where Abraham lay in a heap, having slid down the wall that Destroy had thrown him into when he tore him off Rowan.

  Lore had just managed to bring him back to consciousness and was preparing to feed on his soul. Destroy shoved Lore aside, snatched Abraham off the floor, shaking him to be sure he was conscious, then started slamming his back against the wall he’d already slid down once. When the plaster of the wall began to crumble, no longer providing a strong base for Destroy to slam Abraham against, Destroy threw him to the floor and used his heavy boots to repeatedly stomp the man into oblivion. Destroy started by stomping his ribs, roaring, “How do you like your ribs broken?” and ended with a stomp to Abraham’s head, stopping only when he heard Rowan’s whimpers go silent behind him.

  He turned quickly; if she wasn’t whimpering, she may have stopped breathing. He was terrified, had he lost her while he lost himself to his rage? To his relief he found her breathing, somewhat. She was panting, short, shallow little, broken pants, but breaths nonetheless. Her face was turned toward him, and a look of confusion was firmly painted there. Then she smiled a slight smile. Destroy tilted his head sideways a bit, wondering what she was confused about, why she smiled at him. He moved toward her, “You are safe now, he won’t hurt you again. No one will hurt you again.”