Celtic Rose

by Campbell, Jill

  “I’m so sorry, Kallisto. I should’ve known,” Kalan said, pausing to cough up blood.

  They reached for each other and held on, clinging tightly to their last breath, to spend just one more moment together. They heard a loud screech in the sky and watched as Lady fell from the sky. There was a yowl from the woods and Six Toes fumbled into the clearing before falling. Serena started laughing, and when Kallisto looked back at Kalan, she saw her reflection in Kalan’s eyes. Her eyes were glowing green and there was a ghostly outline of Serena in front of her face. Now she knew why her eyes turned green before she died. It was Serena.

  And that was Kallisto’s last thought before everything went dark.

  A New Beginning

  Shappa Reya

  She ran through the forest as fast as her feet would carry her. Serena and Merrick’s men were hot on her trail. She had excellent fighting skills and could probably take them down, but she had a child in her arms and if anything happened to him, the cost would be great. If she didn’t get the child to the monk’s before they attacked her, then it’d be over before it could even begin. She could see lights from the monastery through the trees. Hope welled inside her, but she could also hear the yelling of the men behind her. They were getting very close. She called the snakes to her. She wasn’t sure it would work since she was in a foreign land, but it seemed to be working just fine since the men behind her started screaming.

  She reached the steps of the monastery and ran up them quickly, hitting the door with her fist as soon as it was within reach. It opened immediately and an old monk stood in the doorway, looking at her expectantly.

  “I bring the cursed one–please let me in,” she pleaded quickly. The monk moved aside in a hurry and she bolted through the door. It closed behind her and she heard a large plank being dropped in place to secure the door. Two other monks came to meet her; one was old, but the other was young, no older than fifteen like she was. The two monks stopped as they looked at her with looks of sheer shock on their faces. She might be fifteen years old, but she had the muscles of a twenty year old. Her hair was the color of blood and yet her skin was pale white like porcelain. She was an Amazon, born and raised in the Amazon jungle with her tribe. They were a wild breed and they looked it, so she was used to getting those looks from strangers. The older monk finally came to himself and cleared his throat to speak.

  “I apologize, my child. We rarely have the chance to meet Amazon’s. We weren’t expecting the child to come to us through another child,” the monk said civilly, but he still managed to be rude.

  “I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you with my presence, sir, but the others in my village have been badly wounded and our numbers have been decimated by Serena and Merrick’s army. As soon as the word spread that a cursed one had been born they attacked relentlessly. I barely escaped with the child’s life, much less my own. I’m surprised they haven’t attacked this place yet,” she spouted, looking around. The monk smiled.

  “Fear not, dear one. They cannot see this place; it’s magically cloaked to anyone wishing harm.” He walked toward her.

  “Call me ‘dear one’ again and you’ll see just how dear I can be,” she said with a grin full of malice. The monk stopped.

  “Yes, well...I’ll take the child to his quarters to be tended, and you’re free to eat and rest until you’re ready to go home,” the monk said nicely. She handed him the child, but followed along behind him. They placed a silver necklace around the child’s neck.

  “Why are you putting that on him? He’s just a baby; won’t he get choked?” she asked, mildly concerned about her charge. The monk laughed.

  “Follow me, child, and you’ll see just how much of a child he is.” The monk was still laughing but as he looked at her face he stopped and his face sobered.

  “My name is Shappa, Shappa Reya, and I’d appreciate it if you would call me that. I may look like a child to you, but I’m a warrior. Warriors are not children,” she said calmly, although her face was full of anger. The monk nodded once and turned forward again. Shappa followed him down several corridors. He stopped at a door with silver bars on the window. Shappa stopped and stared as the monk walked to it. She thought they were crazy, and that she’d go crazy too if she had to stay locked up in that place all the time. The monk started to open the door and stopped as he saw her standing there.

  “Come Shappa, you’ll see the necessity for all of this once you step inside.” The monk opened the door and walked in with the child. Shappa didn’t want to go in, but curiosity took the place of any reason she had. As she walked through the door she stopped in her tracks. The walls had claw marks, the bed was shredded and looked chewed in places, and as she turned and looked at the door, she noticed that the outer wood had been torn apart to reveal a silver door beneath. She stared around wide-eyed at all the damage. At that moment a one-armed man came into the room. Shappa felt like she was going to faint, which was something a warrior never did in her mind, so she took a deep breath and steadied herself.

  “This is why we have a silver necklace, and silver bars on the windows,” the monk said as he handed the child over to the one-armed man. He smiled at the child and started talking baby talk to him. Shappa looked at the other windows and realized that they were covered in silver bars as well.

  “He did all of this?” she asked in shock. The monk nodded and then his brow furrowed.

  “He’s a werewolf, from the day he’s born. Did no one tell you this?” he asked, confused and looking a little concerned. She shook her head and sat down on the floor. She thought passing out didn’t seem like such a bad idea, but she kept a hold of the urge.

  “The old monk that knew all of this died before he could tell us in the little one’s last life. I came in to feed the little tike and...well, as you can see,” the one-armed man said, showing his missing arm. The older monk glared at him.

  “Eventually, we found the writings of our old friend. We knew about the necklace keeping him from changing form, but we weren’t told about the damage he could do on the full moon even with the necklace. You’re lucky you came to us when you did Shappa; the full moon comes tomorrow night.” The monk stood and helped Shappa to her feet. As they walked out of the room, Shappa looked back at the child.

  The one-armed monk had placed him on the bed. The child turned his head, looking at her. She smiled at the baby, then about passed out in the doorway, because the child smiled back, the most malicious grin she’d ever seen, with his canines distended.

  “Yep, there’s our little Gabriel,” the one-armed man said as the door closed.

  About the Author, Jill Campbell

  I live in a small town in North-Central Oklahoma. I started writing when I was seventeen years old. I dreamed the story and then embellished that dream into a manuscript. I had over half of each book in my trilogy written when they were destroyed. I was devastated and quite writing for a very long time. I started writing again a few years ago when my cousin had me tell the stories to friends of ours and they inspired me to start writing again. They all loved my stories and supported me as I wrote. My Muse came along and helped me to develop the stories to have more comic relief. Most of the dark humor in the book comes from conversations with him.