“Can I help you sir?” The clerk at the desk glanced at Nigel as he approached, then back at the computer screen.
“Yes, I need a suite.”
The clerk raised a brow, his attention gained.
“We have several of those. Will it be just you or will someone be joining you?”
“Just me. Give me your nicest room.”
“Yes sir, will that be cash or credit card?”
“Credit card.” He tossed a card from his wallet onto the counter. ‘Yea, the bitch thought of everything. She even thought to close the bank account. That’s okay. She’ll be back and this time I’ll set things up right.’
The darkness that had overtaken him that morning stirred like a stomach ache then settled back to wait.
‡
Katherine yawned and stretched in the straight backed chair. Dora’s library was beautiful, with detailed woodwork of ivy along the tops and edges of the shelves, in the legs of the chairs and table. The hardwood floor shone in the soft light and the grandfather clock in the hallway ticked the night away one slow minute at a time, methodically wearing away her resolve to find answers. Dora’s library was extensive with books on every imaginable supernatural force. Many of them smelled strongly of age. Katherine pulled her own book closer. She had studied it more in depth in the nights she had spent in hotel rooms. There were a lot of drawings and phrases written in Latin. Some of it seemed vaguely familiar, though she had never studied the language.
One drawing in particular drew her attention more than the others. A woman with long dark hair, a slender form, long dress and pointed boots, stood by the lake. She bore a very strong resemblance to Katherine. The Victorian house stood in the background in all its glory, lights shining from the windows and reflected on the lake the way she saw it in the dreams. She was standing with her back to the house and the lake, facing the artist and the forest that Katherine knew was there. Behind her the winged creature stood, ankle deep in the lake, water dripping from him, his wings spread, reaching for her. He almost had her in his grasp as she gazed unaware, forlornly toward the forest.
Katherine felt her sorrow, felt her loneliness to the very core, as if she were the woman in the masterfully detailed drawing. It was as if the woman’s emotion, her desperate sorrow, rang through into the present. The Latin words at the bottom of the page were foreign, yet she could almost translate it.
Aevitas dividuus in corpus, aevitas astrictus in anima.
She had no clue what it meant, only that it emanated sadness.
“How horrible, trapped there, with that beast always just steps behind.” She ran her hand down the page. “I’ll find the answer. I have to.” A hand touched her shoulder. Katherine jumped to her feet, sending the chair scraping on the floor behind her, nearly toppling it.
“Oh, Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just me.” Dora raised her hands, motioned downward.
“God, you startled me. I’m sorry. I’m just a little jumpy lately.”
“Quiet all right, dear. I understand.” She turned her head to the side to look at the book. “Latin. Very interesting.”
“Do you speak it, Dora?” Her hopes swelled only to be dashed on the shores of Dora’s frown.
“Well, it’s very rusty, but I have books here to translate with. Most of my Latin is in regard to my, um, practices.”
Katherine shook her head as her heart sank. “Maybe I can figure out the jest at least.”
“You look exhausted.”
The grandfather clock began to strike in a low tone. Only two strikes and it fell silent.
“Is it that late?”
“Yes. You’ve been up here a while. Hungry?”
“No, not really. Just tired I guess I’ll call it a night.”
“If you don’t mind, I can try to help with this,” she said, motioning to the book. “May I look?”
Katherine hesitated. “Well, it can’t hurt. You may be faster at it than I could be.” She didn’t know why, but she needed, wanted to trust Dora.
“You get some sleep. I’ll work on this for a while. See how it goes. I haven’t been able to sleep anyway.”
“I can’t shake the feeling that I’m terribly behind. That I’m not going to be able to catch up.” Katherine stared down at the book, wished it were clearer, that her father were there to explain.
Dora turned to face her. “I’ll do all I can, just be careful what you wish for. It’s the same as opening a door in certain ways.”
Katherine shrugged. “Things can’t get much stranger.”
“No, but it could be worse. Go on and get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Katherine dropped onto the bed, pulled the covers around her instead of climbing under them and slept. At some point she was at the lake again and she began to wander. This time there were sounds of celebration coming from the house. She turned toward the cove and followed the path. There was a strong wind streaming across the water, bringing goose bumps up on her arms. She rubbed her hands together. They felt strange, like they were not her own. Looking down she spread her fingers out. There was a ring on her third finger. An intricate gold band with Celtic eternity knots. On the other hand was a heavy silver ring. In the center a dark, blood red oval stone in a setting of carved talons.
The wind abruptly stopped. The late evening air was still and deafeningly quiet. She’d grown increasingly observant over the last few weeks. Now she looked around and quickened her steps toward the house. That wasn’t the safest place to be, but out here was worse. Something drove her there and away from the forest. The best she could hope for was to follow those instincts.
A low whine from far off broke the stillness. Katherine stopped and listened intently. The call was answered by a sound she had only heard imitated in movies. It started out low and increased in intensity and volume. The sound of wolves howling. Just one at first, then others joined in until there were at least a dozen distinct voices crying out into the late evening. It was not far off. Definitely in the direct vicinity.
Turning back to the trail Katherine stumbled toward the house. She was nearly halfway around the crescent of the cove when the water began to ripple in one long path and the baying picked up intensely. She rushed toward the warmth of the distant lights.
The harder she ran the further away the house seemed, until, in exhaustion, she collapsed on the muddy shore. She heaved in despair – looked toward the lights that shined in the dim evening. It was too close to give up now. Rising to her feet again she pushed onward. Reaching the turn of the shore she felt herself break free of whatever had been holding her back. New hope took hold as she sprinted toward shelter. In only a few strides her hopes wilted. The water itself began to churn and surge until it escaped, slipping over the ground as easily as if it were supposed to be there, forming a slick smooth surface. It was solid like a mirror reflecting back her image. She looked in it to see herself, but the image that peered back was not her own. The long dark hair, with the slight wave that she had always hated, was pulled back at the top, but hung to her waist instead of stopping at mid back. The eyes were brown instead of green, with high arched eyebrows. The face bore slight wrinkles and wisdom she had not yet acquired. The dress was adorned with black pearl buttons and tapered at the waist. It hung comfortably on her slender frame all the way to her ankles where it overlapped boots that buttoned up the sides. She stared for a moment and then moved back as the wall rippled.
The image she found herself staring at began to change. As she watched in astonishment the reflection became warped and distorted. It began to clear again, only now an entirely different creature glared back. In the place of her slender body was a thick, hairless being with greasy skin and sparse, stringy hair. Its eyes were dark and menacing with a strange sort of glint. Coming from the side of its skull were pointed ears a little too large for its head. Instead of feet it had talons, long sh
arp nails. Alarm growing, not wanting to look, but unable to turn away she began to tremble. Slowly, as though she had no choice, she reached up to touch her hair. Her clawed fingers found the greasy, sparse mess and then the grotesque ears. The reflected image mocked her movements. In speechless terror she shrunk from the wall of water and sank to the ground. Not wanting to look at the abomination she buried her face in her hands.
“This can’t be happening, this isn’t real.”
Katherine drew her head up to look again. The creature was gone, but behind her was a familiar terror. Greystone stood looking at their reflection with a malicious grin. He lumbered over her with obvious superiority, his wings spread wide in a show of dominance. Reaching down he took her in his claws.
His nails dug into her shoulders as he picked her off the ground like a pebble. He raised her until their faces nearly met, stared deep into her eyes. It was all familiar, he was familiar. Not just from her brief encounters. Somehow she knew the man inside the beast.
“Miranda. Sweet Miranda. My soul mate. It’s time you came home. You were pledged in exchange for power. You’re mine by your own hand. You shared in the power as well as those who first promised. Used it to your advantage. Time to pay up. And I’ll take nothing less… than you!” The voice was deep as he spoke, with that familiar wispiness, no hurry, no hatred. He laughed hideously, the sound echoing around the lake.
“But… I’m not Miranda. I’m Katherine, you have the wrong one. Please…” She struggled and squirmed in his grasp. The sharp claws sank into her flesh. Thunder roared in the distance, announcing one of the summertime thunderstorms that regularly swept in on the lake.
“Don’t you understand, you’re all one in the same. Now, stop fighting. I’ll get you sooner or later. Just give up.” He grinned, reminding her there were worse things than his embrace. Sounds of revelry came from the house and he looked in that direction. His hold faltered and as it did Katherine jerked loose. She hit the ground hard and scrambled away, struggling to get her footing in the mud.
“Oh, a fighter. You want to play. That’s okay. I like to play, but I warn you, I play rough!” He watched her go and only laughed, the sound flowing behind her like rushing water.
Katherine stumbled on the long skirts as she fled into the forest. He called after her in the low, baritone of a once handsome man. She crashed through the trees, disregarding the branches that seemed to reach out, tearing at her clothing and hair. She felt one rake her upper arm, cutting through the sleeve and skin. She raced through the forest, until she stumbled out into a clearing. A small cabin crouched there in the dimness. It was very rough and decrepit, with ivy climbing two walls and a crumbling chimney. Katherine gathered her skirts, pulling them high, ran across the clearing and up the steps. Slamming the door she grabbed the bolt that leaned on the wall and threaded it through the iron loops just as his footfalls came lumbering onto the porch.
She heard him stop, sniff the air. His breathing heavy and labored. He moved about the porch.
“Now, now, Miranda. Why do you run? You know I would not hurt thee.”
Katherine barely dared to breathe. ‘Miranda? Who is Miranda?’
“Miranda. Come out and walk with me.” His tone was almost forlorn.
The cabin was quiet except for the sound of crickets outside. Greystone leaned against the door waiting for an answer, any sound from within.
“Miranda. You must come out. I must have you. You loved me when you thought me to be a man. You sought my company, whispered of forever,” he paused. Pleading changed to anger in a flash. “They all fought at first, but eventually came to love me. Loved what I could do for them, loved what I could give them. Your gypsy magic will not keep you safe forever! Come to me!”
Katherine sank down in the corner between the wall and the fireplace. ‘Gypsy magic?’ She looked more closely at the ring in the dim light. ‘Who am I? What am I?’
There was a crash as Greystone threw his weight against the door. The bolt cracked. It was dry and brittle with age. One more good hit sent it crashing to the floor in splinters. Greystone’s silhouette was broad and harrowing. Katherine searched frantically. There was only the door and two windows. She rushed toward the overgrown window where the most light was showing through. Greystone sprang forward, pinning her against the windowsill. They stood face to face in the fading light. Katherine was amazed at how human his face looked, with chiseled features, high cheekbones, broad forehead and sharp chin. The ears lying far back from his face began the transformation from human to beast.
He gazed into her eyes and she into his. Katherine’s breath was shallow and swift; Greystone’s fast and hot. She felt sweltering tears running down her cheeks, heard her voice gathering strength. She wasn’t sure what it was that reflected in those deep grey-blue eyes, but at the sight of her tears it turned to contempt.
“Greystone, please…”
His talons cut into her forearms where he clutched her to his chest, nearly lifting her off the floor. His grasp went from desperate to harsh. He loomed above her, pulling her from the floor, stretching her out, pinning her to the rough hewn wood of the wall. Thick, pointed fangs shown in his broad smile as he drew her hand near his lips. He kissed her fingers, took the tips into his mouth. His hot, wet tongue slid down the finger with the silver ring, hooking underneath it.
“No, no. Greystone, Please…” From somewhere very deep inside Katherine felt the urge, the need to fight. Struggling against his grasp she balled her hand into a fist, kicked and screamed and fought to free herself.
‡
Dora sat in the library until the birds started chirping and the first faint light of dawn arrived. Leaning back in the old chair she rubbed her face and looked at the books that lay spread out on the table. She had managed to decipher the first passages of the old book that the girl carried tucked in the top of her luggage. The pictures almost told the tale but they made little sense as they were.
They were the founding family. Celts from Scotland and England. The last of their families thanks to the Christian Empire and their “cleansing” of their nations. The extermination of anyone who did not bend to their beliefs and ways. The McKlannen’s had hidden their heritage and their beliefs, gone along until they could escape on the first available ship to the new world. Dora reached down and turned to the next page.
A shrill cry resounded through the house. Dora rushed out into the hallway. There she paused, listening. She heard a whimper from Katherine’s room, threw open the door and rushed to the bed. Dora threw the covers aside and shook her shoulders, feeling the warm liquid running between her fingers. In growing horror she realized it was blood. Never had she seen dream travels so frightening, so strongly physically manifested. So out of control.
“Katherine, wake up. You’re not safe outside of the house.”
‡
Katherine fought with all her strength, his hot breath blanketing her neck as his face drew closer. He slid his hand across her shoulder and to her throat. At first his caress was gentle, then his talons closed in tighter.
“I’ll have you Miranda. One way or another, death doesn’t part us. No matter who you are you’ll always be mine.”
Another strike of lightning came with her own ear splitting scream, though deep inside she knew there would be no one to hear. His hand closed around her throat until she could feel her own pulse. She struggled with the hand that restrained her, cutting off her breath. Her head began to tingle with a lack of oxygen and finally consciousness gave way to darkness.
From far away she heard a voice. It drew her to it. She could feel herself falling.
Katherine woke abruptly, hands in front of her face. Dora stood, shaking her as she gasped for air. Her throat burned from screaming.
“Katherine, snap out of it!”
She sat up, forearms aching and shoulders stinging. Her shirt was red with blood at both
shoulders and on the arm torn by the tree branch. The pulse beat hard in her neck as it began to swell where he had taken her by the throat.
Sitting on the edge of the bed Dora, looked at her for a long moment. Footsteps on the stairs drew their attention as they turned to see several of the people from the rooms below slipping through the hallway to stare.
Dora proceeded to assure everyone that all was fine. Katherine had just been having nightmares. “That sort of thing often happens after the death of a loved one,” she coaxed as she saw them to the head of the stairs. “Sorry for the interruptions.”
By the time she had returned Katherine was standing out on the balcony looking out into the fading night.
“It’s soothing, the night. The subtle sounds that creep from the darkness.”
Dora joined her by the railing, looking out over the gardens.
“Shame it’s almost dawn. I always did like the nights best. Until the dreams, anyway.” She glanced at Dora. “How did he get in? They weren’t able to do that yesterday.”
Dora rested her hand on Katherine’s arm.
“He didn’t come in, you went out. You’re traveling away from your body in your dreams. Or at least I thought you were.” She stared at Katherine’s arms. “He’s stronger there. He can actually touch you, hurt you. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.” She shuddered visibly, motioned Katherine inside. “I’ve been able to translate some of it. The first few passages anyway. Mind you it’s a rough translation.”
They sat at the table. Dora turned the book back several pages. “Each drawing has meaning. The Latin just fills in the details. Here, on the crest, for instance. On one side you have a man, on the other a beast. Behind the man you have the sun and rays of light. Behind the beast, the moon and stars. Their hands are touching. They’re one in the same. Representing some sort of transition from man to beast. On the bottom of the crest is a crown, around a three pronged scepter, a symbol of power that Christians turned into a sign of evil.”
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