by Myra Nour
Chapter Ten
Raynor stuffed the flask into the pack, tied it at his waist, and then added the small bag containing coins. Walking briskly in front of her, he pushed the curtain aside cautiously and sniffed the air. Only then did he step through and wave her to follow.
“They’re not here?” she asked fearfully, not wishing to run into those nasty vamps again.
Sending his long black hair flying when he shook his head no, he moved cautiously across the adjoining hall to the other tower.
“Raynor, I’ve got to, you know…” She blushed when he looked back at her curiously. “Is there a bathroom?” she blurted out.
“Oh.” He chuckled. “Guess that’d be a good idea before we explore further.” He cocked one brow at her. “You do know they didn’t have bathrooms in castles, at least not the kind we’re used to?”
“I’m not a silly ninny. A bush will do.” She was quickly discovering Raynor loved to tease her and though she usually didn’t mind teasing, right now she was about to wet herself.
Leading the way, he stepped through a tumbled wall of stones, coming out into an overgrown courtyard, then headed for a bush and paid not the least attention when she walked quickly to another far away. By the time she got her dress pulled up and crouched down, Briana was sure she was going to pee on herself, but she didn’t. Squatting and letting go was a vast relief. Trying to figure out how to dry off was not. Finally in frustration, she ripped a small piece from her chemise.
“You men have it much easier, just shake and dry,” she grumbled after they met back at the tumbled opening.
He simply grinned, and then said, “Did I mention that shifting also means we have less bodily fluids and wastes to dispose of?”
“No, you didn’t.” She peered back at the bush, which had served as her restroom. “But since our facilities here are so wonderful, I’m very glad to hear that.”
He chuckled at her sarcasm.
Thrusting her hands out, she asked, “Can you pour some water over my hands, please?”
“I don’t know…” He plastered an overly concerned look on his fine face. “We don’t know when we’ll find fresh water.”
“Oh get real. This is jolly old England, there’s got to be tons of water around.” She wiggled her hands. “Besides, my hands are icky.”
“All right, goddess.” He pulled the flask from the bag and held it out.
She frowned at his use of that word, but at least he was complying with her wish. When he stopped, she shook her hands vigorously to dry them.
Raynor stood gazing in all directions and she turned in circles to see what he was staring at. It was the castle, or what was left of it. Three towers edged the courtyard, crumbled and blackened ruins. The largest was square-shaped, its gaping hole of a doorway looked like some gigantic monster crouching, ready to swallow them whole. Briana knew her imagination was running overtime in this creepy atmosphere.
The other two round-shaped towers consisted of the one they’d slept in and the structure the vampires had warned them off. Now that she saw all three parts of what was left of the castle, she thought the two towers might be the old gate houses and the larger building, the main keep.
When she eyed her companion, he crooked one finger at her. “Aren’t you dying to see what they have stashed next door?” Not waiting for her response, he disappeared through the gaping hole and headed for the other tower.
“Not particularly,” she mumbled, suddenly picturing bodies stacked like cordwood. Darn his choice of words. But, she kept up anyway. There was something really spooky about this old castle.
He paused at a heavy wooden door which marked the entrance of the more ruined tower. She wished they had a door on theirs; it would make her feel safer. Pushing it open slowly, he stuck his head inside. She heard him take a deep breath. He reappeared and nodded. “No one home.”
The door creaked when they went through, and Briana was so close to him, she bumped into his back when he stopped abruptly.
“Not much to see. We got a better deal.”
She stepped around him and had to agree. Only one heavy gothic chair stood against the wall, and a twin of the table next door took up a large portion of the center area. Something tickled at her nose and she breathed in and wished she hadn’t. Sneezing violently, she looked down at the smelly straw covered floor. It was filthy, unlike the fresh hay the other tower floor was strewn with.
“What gives?” Her brow creased in puzzlement. “Why the vast difference in furnishings and housekeeping?”
“I don’t know…” He paused, his look taking in all parts of the room. “Perhaps they spend more time in the other tower.”
Kicking at the dirty straw, she remarked, “Or, maybe it’s just time for them to change the flooring.” She thumped one finger against her jaw, trying to remember what she’d read in a textbook about what they used to cover the cold, damp floors. “I think they called these rushes.”
Raynor strode to the table, his hand running over something lying on top. Curiously, she stepped carefully, picking her gown up high and stopped next to him. Rough pieces of rope lay strewn across each corner, their ends running under the edge. He leaned down and peered underneath.
“Looks like part of their fun house games,” he said once he straightened, a frown of distaste on his fine lips.
“You mean…they tie people down on this table?” She gulped air, finding it hard to breathe properly. Just what kind of monsters were they? What did they really do with the poor humans they brought here?
He ran one finger along the nearest corner thoughtfully. “See this, looks like dried blood.”
Briana tugged at his shirt, suddenly very scared and sick to her stomach. “Please, let’s get out of here.”
“In a minute,” he said absentmindedly, walking quickly to the chair.
Glancing at the brown stains made her lightheaded. Briana made a swift retreat to the door.
Tapping on the chair arm, he drew her attention. “More ropes.” He picked up a strand of fiber and let it fall. There were ropes trailing across each arm. Squatting down, Raynor examined the chair’s legs.
“Ropes at the bottom,” she said, her voice squeaking slightly.
He nodded, and then rejoined her at the entrance. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t like them.”
At any other time, she would have appreciated his caustic remark. Her eyes flicked over the room one last time, searing it into her memory, just as Raynor appeared to be doing. The walls were mostly blackened ruins; in many areas, the stones had tumbled into piles, leaving gaping holes, admitting daylight. No candles were evident, so the vampires must do their dirty work during the day. Unlike fictional vampires, shifter vamps could easily go into the sunlight. Two braziers sat near the table, giving evidence that the creatures saw to their own comfort.
It no longer looked like an ancient room destroyed by time and war. It was the abode of evil. It smelled of death and decay, of decadent atrocities.
Shuddering, Briana exited quickly. Once she reached the end of the drawbridge, she practically ran down the steep hill, disregarding the danger. Raynor caught up with her at the bottom. He didn’t laugh or tease her as he might have normally done.
“Care to go to town?” He stuck out one arm in a courtly fashion.
Panting to catch her breath, Briana nodded and placed one hand through the crook of his arm. “Where are we going?”
“Thought we’d try the boy’s village.”
She nodded. “Guess it’s as good a direction as the other. Who knows how far the next village might be?” Briana was happy he suggested they walk to the village. It would provide a welcome relief from the horror she’d barely glimpsed in that tower. And she wouldn’t mind a brisk walk, or seeing the sweet little boy they’d met again. She positioned the dress over her arm. “I sure hope it’s not too far.” These wood-soled shoes were deadly to her sensitive feet. Maybe the villagers would have a shoe cobbler?
* * * *
*
Birds serenaded them while they strolled along and multitudes of insects sang. They came across a variety of animals in their walk: a deer standing in the middle of the road, a rabbit munching grass by the path, and a pair of young raccoons who tumbled in wild play on the dusty track. Briana smiled more than once, letting the soothing sights of Mother Nature calm her agitation.
Their jaunt couldn’t have been over a mile before they saw signs of civilization. Rounding a bend in the road, they spotted houses off to the right: small cottages with A-shaped thatched roofs. “Do you think we’ll be welcomed?” she whispered, suddenly feeling very out-of-place in this medieval setting.
“You’re a lady and I’m a…a huntsman.” His hesitation clearly indicated he didn’t really know what he was, and was again poking fun at his appearance. “Surely respectable folks in these parts.”
When they entered the main thoroughfare through the village, she thought perhaps Raynor had been off a bit in his estimation. Several older people sat in front of their houses, working on various objects in their laps. Some were doing woodwork, others pottery, and one stitching a shirt. Each looked at them with surprise and suspicion when they passed by, and their “hellos” were exchanged with barely hospitable nods.
It appeared that only half the small cottages were occupied. The others looked neglected—straw needed replacing in large spots on the roofs, doors stood ajar, the interiors dark and empty of life. Briana shuddered when she realized that these had probably belonged to those taken by the Plague.
Unexpectedly, the boy who’d been so pleasant to them upon their arrival ran from a nearby field. “Hello,” he called with enthusiasm. “What brings my lady and my goodman to our village?”
Raynor clapped him on the shoulder. “Need supplies, my boy.” He rattled the coin bag, making the boy’s eyes light with interest.
Seeing Robert’s intense stare, she said, “Perhaps you can help us in exchange for a penny?” She hoped a penny was worth something in this time period as she supposed. He was such a cute little boy, and she realized he reminded her of a childhood playmate who moved away when she was nine. Robert had the same cheerful attitude and inquisitive nature.
His eyes became even rounder, confirming her suspicion of value. “Yes.” He jumped up and down, ill containing his excitement.
She leaned down affectionately, her feelings more intense for his resemblance to Eddie. “I’d like to know the name of my benefactor?”
“Robert.”
“What a nice name. I’m Briana and this is Raynor.”
The boy executed a courtly bow. “Lady Briana and Goodman Raynor, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Stifling a giggle, she said, “But I’m not a—”
Raynor interrupted her by placing one finger across her lips. She realized the wisdom of that action; Robert would never believe they were other than their clothes declared them. To declare otherwise would have made him suspicious of their motives, and if not him, certainly the adults in the village.
“We’re in need of food and a change of clothes, if that’s possible.”
Briana had been surreptitiously examining the older peasant’s clothes and didn’t see much hope there. Theirs were similar in make to Robert’s. Not that she, or she was sure Raynor, would mind wearing them, but they had presented themselves as a lady and huntsman. The villagers’ suspicions would run rampant if they tried to purchase peasant clothing.
“The food is no problem.” He waved them to follow. “My father is a wonderful gardener and I’m sure he can spare some of our produce.” He led them to a large field, filled with stunted, sparse-leafed peas.
“Are these full-grown?”
“Yes,” the boy shook his head, pride shining in his eyes.
Raynor said, “But they don’t look as big as the peas I’m familiar with.”
Curiosity lit the boy’s face. “Where do you hail from, sir? My father has the greenest thumb around these parts, that’s why Lord William rewarded him
with so much acreage for our own needs.”
Raynor looked uncomfortable and Briana knew he felt silly he’d stuck his foot in his mouth, and insulted the boy’s father in the process.
“My homeland is far, far away. I meant no disrespect to your father’s abilities. Has there been a drought?”
“You really are from far away if you don’t know about the cold weather affecting our land and how it withered many crops.”
He shrugged. “We don’t have this problem where I’m from.” He turned toward her. “We did wonder why it is so chilly here though it is summertime.”
The boy shook his head, a wise look on his youthful features. “You are lucky, Sir, and I am lucky to have such a successful father.”
“All this belongs to your father?”
The boy giggled. “No, to Lord William of Haworth.”
“Is he about so high?” Raynor placed his hand at chest level, and added, “And does he have gray hair?”
Robert’s hair flew like a corkscrew. “No, he is a man in his prime, tall as you, and hair like mine.” The boy tugged at his own brown locks.
Briana had been eying Raynor during the exchange, wondering what he was up to. Now she knew. It sounded very likely that the vampire leader was this Lord William.
“Lad, does Lord William own the cursed castle as well?”
The boy nodded, his eyes gone large again. “You did not see any ghosts or evil spirits?” His voice trembled.
Chapter Eleven
“No, just wind rattling through the trees and odd creaks one hears in such old places.” Raynor grinned at the young boy.
“You’re much braver than I am,” Robert said.
He smiled. “No need for you to be brave as a knight yet, as I’m sure you will be when you grow into a man.” He fluffed the boy’s hair. “Although, it’s just the sort of place one might find buried treasure.”
The boy glowed at his kind words, and then his eyes turned thoughtful at Raynor’s mention of treasure. Turning, he ran like a rabbit into the center of the greenery and then came back a few minutes later, a tall, rough-looking man behind him.
The man was introduced as John. Briana liked him instantly, just like his son. He had the same kind eyes, and though coarse-looking in appearance, his manners were surprisingly refined for someone in his station. She watched how the boy helped with the exchange of information between the two men. Now she saw where Robert had learned his seemingly natural manners.
Briana observed Raynor’s politeness and negotiating abilities as the exchange of coins for food took place. Strolling along beside Robert and his father, they selected vegetables from John’s personal garden. He joked with the man and boy. In spite of the difference in culture and the centuries between them, lively conversation was no barrier. For some reason she began to think that he’d fit in well no matter where circumstances threw him. She pictured strolling with him into a fancy restaurant; her decked out in a cocktail dress, him in an Armani suit. And she was sure he’d get through the meal without making a fool of himself, too.
While the men continued their bartering, her meanderings stretched further. A beach scene came to mind. Raynor wearing a swimsuit—now that was worth considering. His muscularly-defined chest and brawny thighs would make him a mouth-watering treat. Then, her thoughts flitted back to their first meeting and how yummy he looked in those tight jeans. Unexpectedly, the prospect of gathering food didn’t seem as interesting. Her clit beat erratically and she felt moist between the legs.
“Check this out,” Raynor exclaimed, shoving an onion under her nose.
Her lovely daydreams were shattered and she sighed. “Yes, definitely an onion.”
The variety was a nice surprise, especially after the boy’s explanation of rough conditions for growing farm produce. They chose onions, cabbage, spinach, peas, and turnips. Also, she had to have a handful of the delicious looking beets, while Raynor went for the carrots.
Th
e shocked look on his face was priceless when he pulled a carrot top up and small, purple carrots met his eyes, not the familiar orange ones. He pulled another bunch up and strange purplish carrots popped out again. Turning to John, he asked, “Are these the only carrots you have?”
“Yes,” the man’s brow furrowed. “I know of no other.”
Raynor chuckled. “We have orange ones where we’re from.”
“Really?” He looked surprised. “I would love to taste such strange carrots.” Shrugging, he pointed toward a patch of lovely flowers. “Do you wish some violets and primrose as well?”
“Uh, not today.”
Gathering their things, they waved goodbye. Raynor whispered to her, “Are they so desperate they eat flowers?”
“No, silly,” she laughed. “Those are edible flowers.”
“I prefer carrots, even weird purple ones.”
They had passed John’s cottage and were at the end of his long barn, which attached to the back of his house, when Briana started trembling. Gripping her middle, she groaned.
“You’re not shifting here, are you?” Raynor shot a concerned glance around them.
“I’m suddenly ravenous.”
“It’s the rats.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Listen.” He peered toward the barn, where rustlings were stirring the straw inside. “You’re hungry and your lunch is calling your shifter self.”
“Great.” Her trembling turned to spasms and her eyes widened in fear. “What’ll we do?”
Pulling open the small barn door, he undid her gown quickly and shoved her quickly inside. “Do your thing and I’ll watch the door.”
“Gee, tha—” Her words were cut off abruptly as she clutched her middle.
* * * * *
Fortunately, the barn was at the edge of the village, and not one person wandered by while he waited. Loud rustling sounds erupted every few seconds from inside, and his gut churned when he pictured the havoc the snakewoman was wrecking on the rat population.