Her anger and contempt builds to volcanic proportions, her pacing becoming quicker and noisy with continuous kicking of that damn flat basketball shaking the wall. We’ll make them pay, her wolf whispers, pacing with her, they’ll all pay. Her wolf is becoming more of a presence, so she knows the full moon is near; maybe only a day away at most.
Raised voices stop her pacing and she freezes in place to listen, then scurries silently, getting as close to the stairs as she can. Creeping on her hands and knees, with her chained leg out straight behind her, she puts her ear to a crack in the floor.
“They’re comin’!” Someone shouts.
“How many?….. From where?”
“About twenty-five, or thirty of ‘em.”
“The woods! They’re coming fast!” Skinner yells.
Hope wells in Siofra’s chest. Sending out her powers to Conall she says, ‘You’re on the right track, they’re scared! Hurry!’ Footsteps pound up the steps, making her back track back as fast as she can onto the dirty mattress.
A feminine figure appears at the top step, holding a lantern out in front of her. Hatred boils up inside Siofra and she issues a resounding growl, baring her teeth. Jinnie Harris locks eyes with her one-time Pack mate, and mounts the last step, setting her lantern down.
“Siofra, seems like your knight in shining armor is coming for you.” Fry can sense the sarcasm in Jinnie’s voice. Watching her reach into her jean pocket, Siofra sees Jinnie pull a folding knife, and open it to let the blade glint in the fire light. Issuing more growls, she moves from the mattress to the farthest corner she can reach.
“Oh you can’t run, slut,” Jinnie torts, cautiously stepping forward. “Kyle sent me up here to finish you off, seeing as you won‘t come with us.” With a crooked smile, Jinnie waves the knife back and forth.
“Do you think if they make it out alive, they’ll take you with them?” Siofra scoffs, standing to make a better assessment of her attacker. “If you do, you’re dumber than a bag of shit! They‘ll leave you to be at the mercy of the Pack.” Making your enemy mad makes them do foolish things; Siofra is banking on this theory.
Rage rips through Jinnie’s features. “Shut up you stupid bitch!”
Lunging forward, she swings the knife upward, towards Siofra’s face. Ducking the swipe and bringing her free leg up, Siofra plants her heel into the back of Jinnie’s left calf. Jinnie falls to one knee, slashing back and connecting with Siofra’s right shoulder; cutting a six inch long gash and spilling first blood.
Recoiling from the slash, Siofra puts her left hand on the cut and retreats; her back to the staircase. Holding the bloody hand out in front of her face and seeing it drip from her fingers, she issues a growl.
“Don’t do that again, Jinnie, or I’ll kill you.” She can feel the anger and resentment rolling off her attacker from across the room. Jinnie’s eyes are glowing, and her arms are trembling with emotion. This bitch doesn’t know anger, she thinks as the weight of her situation fills her again.
“You know what, bitch?” Jinnie pants, straightening and stepping twice to her right to be in line with Siofra, “After I kill you, I’ll take immense pleasure in killing that bastard you call a son.” Smiling, she tosses her knife in the air and catches it, winking at Siofra when she issues a gut-wrenching growl in her direction. “I’ll make sure he screams his little head off while I slice him.”
One flaw in Jinnie’s plan: not knowing that Siofra can channel her anger and rage into power. It’s something she’s been able to do since she was little. Her brothers would make her so mad, but she would just focus all that rage and defend herself; the one time breaking her brother’s nose. Issuing a challenging roar and motioning for Jinnie to come get her, Siofra prepares her body by crouching with her hands out in front.
Howling and slashing wildly, Jinnie charges her prey. Dodging the first two swipes, Siofra lifts her chained leg and trips Jinnie, wrapping the chain from her hands around her attacker’s neck. Pulling up, clenching her hands to the opposite sides of Jinnie’s head, Siofra takes a few slashes to her side and forearm before Jinnie drops the knife; losing focus on her attack mode and switching to defense, trying not to die. Siofra pulls Jinnie’s back to her front, wrapping her legs around Jinnie’s torso for leverage.
Jinnie claws at Siofra’s forearms, choking in air. “Please……Fry….Please,” she spits out.
It’s too late for mercy. Too late for forgiveness. Threatening someone’s family brings out their wild side, and Siofra has no redemption for the she-wolf in her grasp.
“I’m sorry, Jinnie, but you’re actions are unforgivable,” Siofra whispers. Giving one last, hard yank and twist of the chains, hearing popping and cracking, Jinnie’s throat is crushed and neck broken.
Dropping the limp body to the floor beside her, Siofra screams, “Help me!” while rolling onto her side to stand.
“You killed Jinnie, you cunt,” the husky voice screams at her. Kevin’s eyes are already red, agitated from the thought of his coming demise. Stalking over to Siofra, yanking her to her feet by her elbow, he states, “You’re coming with me, slut.”
Fishing a key out of his pocket he unlocks the manacle around Siofra’s ankle. She sees the opening and seizes the opportunity to wrench from his grip, dashing toward the stairs. Freedom. A sharp pull on her hair and she flies to the floor, splayed on her back.
“I don’t fucking think so,” he growls in her ear; his steel grip still on her scalp. His fingers are entwined in her hair as Kevin pulls her to her feet. “I don’t want you to run away, so…” without warning he slams his boot down on Siofra’s left ankle.
White-hot pain, crunching and cracking shoots up through her leg and Siofra crumples to the floor screaming. She can’t catch her breath, as the pain thundering through her leg seems to squeeze her lungs; tears flow freely down her dirty cheeks.
“That’s better,” he laughs and hoists her up over his shoulder, jogging down the stairs.
Kyle, Skinner and the other eight rogues are in the heart of the barn when Kevin tosses Siofra down onto the hay covered concrete. The pain shoots up through her leg, into her hip and back, is now joined by a dislocated shoulder. Siofra can’t help but call out in pain, making them all laugh.
“Help me,” she screams, earning her a swift kick in the ribs from Kyle.
“Shut up, bitch,” he spits. Kneeling to her side, he takes her tear stained, hay covered face in his hands. “Since you won’t conform, we have no further use for you.”
Siofra gazes into his storm grey eyes, begging to see the young man she fell in love with when she was sixteen; but she sees nothing but a heartless, soulless black pit. Howls echo throughout the empty shell of a barn, and the low-lifes all lift their faces to the far door. Fear, anger, and hatred seep through them and filter into Siofra’s mind.
“Fuck! They’re here!” Skinner looks like he might piss his pants at this point. The air around all the men starts to pulse with their pending change. They’re preparing to fight, Siofra thinks. Pulling out a knife the size of a machete, Skinner rushes over to Siofra’s side, gripping her hair and pulling her head back. “Let’s get this over with and get the fuck outta here!”
“No,” Kyle knocks the enormous knife from Skinner’s hand, grabbing Siofra’s hair from the monster’s grasp. Brandishing a smaller Bowie knife, he motions Skinner to help pull Siofra to her feet.
Doing so, by her dislocated arm, Skinner sets Siofra in Kyle’s grasp. Standing behind her, with his arm around her upper arms and chest and his other holding the knife to her throat, Kyle whispers, “I want that bastard to live every day of his life with the vision of me cutting your throat burned into his brain.” The words make her tremble as he laughs.
“Go out the back,” he growls to the others, nipping at her ear.
Kyle grips Siofra’s shoulders tighter as they scramble around him. The group heads out the back, leaving Kyle with his hostage. Making her walk towards the door in front of them, pain shooting
up her leg with every little movement, he whispers, “Ready to make your curtain call, my dear Fry?”
“What happened to you, Kyle?” she sobs, trying to turn her head out of the knife’s path, but to no avail. “Just tell me why?”
“Cuz, Fry,” he pauses just on the inside of the old barn door, “if I can’t have you, neither will our son.” Pushing the door aside, they stride into the moonlit night, the chill filling her bones again. Newly fallen snow covers the landscape and their breath turns to steam.
Gazing through tear filled eyes, Siofra notices glowing eyes all around them. Snapping jaws and growls surround them as Kyle moves along the front of the barn. All in wolf form, the portion of the Big Sky Pack locks their eyes on their injured Pack mate and her assailant. She also spots Leon’s mountain lion form; his golden eyes boring a hole into her assailant from a nearby tree branch as his lips curl back and a low hiss rumbles from his chest.
“Which one are you, bastard?” Kyle yells at them. “I want to see you face to face.” Pushing the knife tighter to her throat, he solicits a cry from Siofra as he cool blade nicks her skin.
A huge black wolf, with green eyes, steps from the Pack; magic coursing through the air around him. The sounds of cracking bones and the shift of skin fills the area, Conall taking place of the wolf and standing before them, his gaze locked on Siofra, appraising her condition as his chest rises and falls, trying to accommodate his exerted body from the change.
Kyle lets out a string of hysterical whooping laughs. Pushing the knife ever closer to her throat, Siofra can feel a trickle of warm blood run down onto her collar-bone; running over her breast and soaking into the flannel she had been given to wear.
“Let her go, Kyle,” Conall growls, baring his teeth, which are still in wolf form. “We can finish this like men.”
“Like men? Ha, yeah and with your Pack mates jumping me as soon as I let her go, NO WAY!” He jerks his hold back and Siofra lets another whimper of fear escape her lips. He’s still shuffling them along the barn, his back glued to the peeling and splintering planks.
“Don’t do that, Kyle,” Conall reaches his arm out towards them, as if trying to cross the distance between them and stay Kyle’s hand from moving the knife. “Please, let us settle this like men.” It is a challenge, and no self-respecting wolf would refuse it.
Only seconds stretch out in silence between them, but to Siofra it feels like hours, as the pain from her boot crushed ankle radiates through her entire body, making her feel sick. Conall is so close, she can smell him on the slight breeze; she has to keep her hands from reaching out to him.
Loud cries for help and the sound of snapping bones fills the silent gap around the group, coming from behind the barn, and Siofra can feel Kyle tense. Those are his friends’ screams, Siofra thinks, recognizing her tormentors’ pitches through their yells for help.
“You hear that?” Conall points over their heads, towards the last waning cry for help. “That’s the sound of your friends, being ripped apart. Limb from limb.”
“Don’t be stupid, Kyle,” comes Kevin’s voice from behind Siofra. “We don’t need those idiots anyways, they were strays. Don’t let her go, they’ll jump you, like the bunch of cowards that they are.”
Smirking at Conall, he laughs a little to himself and continues. “You know, boy,” directing his gaze at Conall once more, “I’ve had your precious Fry…… And she was delightful; she loved every minute of it. She cried my name into the rafters of this barn all night last night; panting and begging for more. And, ooh-ee is she a sweet thing; tastes like cinnamon and…” he pauses, smacking his lips and grinning wildly, “oh yeah, cinnamon and slut.”
A rage filled growl rips through Conall’s chest and all Siofra can do is gasp. Bouncing his gaze from Siofra back to Kevin, Conall points at the nasty mouthed Bokan, “You’ll pay with your life for that.”
Conall never gets the chance to make Kevin eat his words; with a loud gush of wind and a horrible moan emanated through the night, Kevin isn’t standing anymore. Siofra can’t help but gape at the scene as Kyle turns to face his brother, now levitating with the help of a vampire. A sleeved arm is protruding through Kevin’s back, coming out his chest, and it is grasping his still beating heart. The steam rises from the slowly dying organ as blood trickles out of the side of Kevin’s mouth.
“Sebastian?” Siofra gasps and the vampire smiles at her, nodding curtly. He shakes the lifeless body from his arm nonchalantly, throwing it to the ground at Kyle’s feet. Showing Kyle a toothy grin, he licks one his bloody fingers before placing the top of the steaming heart in his mouth; pulling the last bit of Kevin’s still warm blood from the ventricles and atriums.
Pressing his back against the wall of barn once again, Kyle tightens his grip and the pressure at her neck. She can tell he is on the edge of tears, seeing his brother killed like that. His breathing is erratic and his heartbeat is through the roof, thumping against her back as he holds her tight.
“Now you’ll pay,” he screams and Siofra thinks she sees flashes of movement coming toward them, but all she is certain of is the cold bite of the knife coming across her neck.
The sensation of the warm liquid spilling down her neck as she falls to the ground is over-shadowed by the searing pain that her ankle causes when she hits the snow. Then it is all gone, everything is black.
This is how it feels to die, she thinks. Well at least Roan is safe. At least my baby is safe!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
“Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…” What an annoying sound to have in heaven, Siofra thinks. It continues and Siofra becomes more and more aware of the pains; in her leg and in her throat. Pain doesn’t follow you to heaven, and why can’t I open my eyes?
Whispers play slightly in her ears and a warm object moves in her hand. Peeling her eyes open, Siofra realizes she isn’t dead, but in a hospital bed. Cautiously she tries to move her eyes around the room; they are so dry she has to blink several times to clear the haze.
The room is hospital white, a television in the upper left corner of the ceiling playing COPS with the door to the left of that. She notices that she’s covered with a blanket except for her left leg, which is encased in a cast and elevated by pillows. Again the warm sensation in her hand moves a little and she rotates her gaze to her right arm.
Conall, his hand in hers, sits with his forehead resting on the edge of the rail. He adjusts his shoulders, grunting, wiggling his fingers in hers. He must be so uncomfortable, Siofra thinks. Parting her lips to say something sends a shot of pain through her mouth and jaw, causing a meek moan to slip through her parched throat. Conall shoots his head up, noticing her eyes are open.
Squeezing her hand, “Siofra?!?” he whispers, leaning his face in close. She blinks, releasing a few tears and more soft moans that she hopes will be an answer. Conall jumps from his seat, “Nurse! Nurse, get in here!”
Siofra starts to choke while trying to talk and coughs wrack her aching body, causing more tears. A middle-aged plump woman hustles into the room, followed by a man with a white doctor’s jacket on. Siofra starts to panic and Conall leans over trying to calm her.
“Calm down, Fry. They’ll help you, just calm yourself,” he whispers, wiping his fingers across her sweat stained forehead. The simple touch sets her skin on fire and her wolf immediately calms, almost whimpering in need for him in front of these strangers.
“Please, Mr. Johnson, step back.” The middle-aged nurse takes Conall’s place, a cup with a straw protruding out of it in her hand. She puts the straw up to Siofra’s mouth. “Take a slow sip, honey, it’ll help. Go on now.”
Siofra wraps her chapped lips around the end of the straw, forcing back the pain in her neck to quench her parched mouth. The cold liquid coats her tongue, shocking her at first, then slides down her throat, soothing her coughs. After a moment she nods slightly to the nurse and raises her right arm, cautiously pushing the cup away.
Feeling a slight pull at her throat, she reaches
up. Putting her fingers to her neck, she can feel a gauze bandage taped in place and her eyes go wide remembering the feel of the knife being held to her throat by Kyle. Turning her gaze to the doctor, she slightly lifts her chin, pointing to the bandage.
“Ah, yes, Miss. O’Hana. You suffered a slight abrasion across your throat, no stitches needed though; the bandage should be able to come off in a day or two, due to your rapid healing.” Pausing the doctor points to the cast. “However, your ankle was totally shattered. Before you leave the hospital, we’ll cover the cast with a ‘boot’ device so you can at least walk without crutches. It should be able to come off in a month, month and a half, tops.”
Moving to the end of the bed, the doctor picks up her chart, makes some notes and then replaces it on its holder. “You had numerous minor cuts, which have almost all healed. There is, however, one serious question I must ask you. You need to be totally honest, Miss. O‘Hana.” The doctor moves his gaze to Conall and Siofra follows, noticing the forlorn look in Conall’s eyes. Clearing his throat the doctor asks, “Were you sexually assaulted, Miss. O’Hana?”
Her face flushes to the point that sweat breaks out over her entire body. Siofra tries to gently clear her throat before attempting to speak. “No,” she squawks, “they tried, but…. I … fought them off.” Her throat feels like it has a thousand needles sticking in it. The doctor nods and turns to Conall, back in business mode.
“Keep having her sip ice water. I’ll have a nurse bring in some throat spray, and I’ll be back to check in about two hours.” Shaking hands with Conall, the doctor ushers the nurse back out the door, telling her where to find the throat spray.
Sitting back at the side of her bed, Conall grasps Siofra’s right hand in both of his and kisses the tips of her fingers. “God, I thought I lost you, love.” His green eyes bare down on her; the sadness and worry still evident in their depths as they wash over her face.
Siofra's Song: Book 1 The Broadus Supernatural Society Series Page 11