“Brava,” a musical voice mocked, its owner leaning against the door frame. “It couldn’t have been any more perfect had I had planned it myself.” She giggled. “Oh, wait, I did.”
Colleen turned to face the woman clad in a diaphanous gown made up of swirling colors she had no words to describe. “How did you get in…wait. I know you,” she said, her eyes widening in recognition. “You were in the shop today.”
The stranger took a step toward Colleen, a sneer marring her beautiful face. Faolan jumped at once to put himself between the two women. “Get ye away from her, Aobhnait. This isna necessary and well ye ken it.”
“Step aside, Celt. This is between me and your cailín,” Aobhnait replied, waving a careless hand. Faolan staggered and fell against the bed, shoved by an unseen force. With a catlike smile, the faery spoke to Colleen. “Congratulations, my dear. You’ve won the prize.” She took a step closer and adopted a conspiratorial tone. “What a clever girl. I’ll bet you knew all along how to lift his curse, didn’t you?” She nodded toward Faolan. “Did he give you a hint?”
“He didn’t know how,” Colleen looked from one to the other, before leveling her gaze on Faolan. “That is what you said.”
Peals of silvery laughter rang out. “Is that what you told her?” Aobhnait squealed. “Gods, Faolan, but that was cold of you to deceive her so.”
Colleen bristled at the insinuation. “What does she mean deceive?” she demanded, whirling on Faolan. “Is she saying you knew how to get yourself free? You’ve been lying to me?”
“This isna what it appears, Colleen,” he hedged, not meeting her eyes. “Aobhnait, this stops now.”
The faery’s eyes gleamed. “I think it’s exactly as it appears. Tell her, Faolan.” When he did not speak, Aobhnait waved her slender hand in a magnanimous gesture. There was a large crack when the stone in the center of the dropped amulet split in two. A thin wisp of white smoke rose from the shattered stone and drifted toward Faolan. He pressed his lips firmly together and shook his head, his eyes ablaze with fury.
“Open up, darling,” Aobhnait said, her honeyed voice laced with sarcasm. “Don’t be difficult.” When he didn’t comply, she gave a heavy sigh and made a pinching gesture with a slender forefinger and thumb. “I can be difficult too.”
Faolan shook his head again, but his eyes grew wide in alarm and his face reddened as his air supply obviously dwindled to nothing. His head whipped from side to side but the gossamer strands of his soul followed wherever he turned. When at last he could hold his breath no longer, his mouth gaped open and sucked in a great lungful of air. The wispy trail entered his mouth and disappeared.
“You are free. She has broken your enchantment, but I said I would leave her unharmed only if you fulfill your portion of the bargain, my dearest,” she reminded him. “I’m waiting, Faolan, and my patience wears thin. Say the words.”
“What bargain, Faolan?” Colleen demanded, her panic rising.
Faolan’s back stiffened and he turned slowly to face Colleen. His dispassionate face seemed carved out of stone, his voice flat and lifeless. “Colleen, this is Aobhnait, whom I desire above all others. My love is only for her.” His eyes clenched shut and he turned his face away quickly, but not before she saw the angry tears spilling onto his cheeks. “I hold no love for ye and never will.”
For a long moment, Colleen was afraid she wasn’t going to die from the consuming pain that shot through her, body and soul. Marc’s betrayal was a mere splinter by comparison. Bitter tears of humiliation closed her throat and stole her voice. She shuddered, took a ragged breath and tried to form a coherent sentence. “How could you…why did you…get out,” she finally screamed, scrambling toward the other side of the bed. “You’re just like Marc. You never cared about me. You used me. All you wanted was to break your curse, you scheming son of a bitch. I never want to lay eyes on you again!”
“My thoughts exactly,” Aobhnait said in a silky voice, sliding a possessive arm around his waist. “Say goodbye to your human, Faolan.”
He jerked away from the faery. “Ye gave me yer promise,” he thundered over his shoulder, leaping for Colleen. She screamed and kicked at him, getting in a glancing blow on his shoulder. He grunted in response but grabbed for her again.
“I gave my promise I would leave her unharmed, my love. What I didn’t say was where I’d leave her,” Aobhnait laughed. “Fare thee well, dear Colleen.”
The room was plunged into darkness. Colleen felt a hand close around her ankle as she tumbled into the inky void. End over end, she twisted and turned. The wind howled and scratched at her skin like sandpaper, and she couldn’t even draw in enough breath to scream. Dark shapes flew by her face, and she tried to raise her hands in a feeble attempt to protect her head. Whatever had a grasp on her fell away, and her body spun even more. When she finally succumbed to unconsciousness her last dark thought was of the deceitful, betraying man she had let into her home, her bed, and her heart.
Part 2
I’ve lost my words
Dinah’s run off
I see a flash of white
Now I am gone for him
He will never stop running
I will always give chase
Oh yes, where are my words
I can feel them
No, I can feel him
He will lead me
He will be my undoing
My soft savior s’il vous plait
I’m suddenly Falling, Crawling,
Crying, Grasping,
Clawing, Reaching
I leap without looking
No, I follow without thinking
He has my words
He is the word
I am down the rabbit hole
Worst part is I don’t care
I’ll let him lead me anywhere
–My Love of the Leporidae by Patricia Warren
8
Colleen was sprawled face down on the hard ground when she awoke. “This is all your fault, Faolan MacIntyre or John Stewart or whatever the hell your name is. With God as my witness, if I never lay eyes on you again…” she sputtered, getting to her feet with a groan. Her voice trailed off as she glanced around her and realized she was no longer in her bedroom, but a deep thicket of coarse brush. The air was crisp and clean, smelling of rain and old forest. She shook a fall of dead leaves from her hair.
“Uh-oh… I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.” She turned in a circle, surrounded by ancient trees, their thick branches blocking the sun as they intertwined overhead. A dry branch cracked behind her and she whirled to face the sound. “Who’s there?” she demanded, shrieking when a lean hare bounded from its hiding place and ran in the opposite direction.
She scrambled to a thick bush and crouched underneath. Panic later, calm now. They knocked her out…somehow. She chewed her lower lip doubtfully while trying to form a logical explanation…and two of them dumped her in the woods…somewhere. She tried to remember where the nearest wooded area was and decided she must be in the woods opposite the apartment complex playground. She patted her jeans pockets for her keys or cell phone. Both came up empty. Finding only the tube of antibiotic ointment, she shoved it back into her pocket with a disgusted snort.
She held her breath and listened. When she heard no more sounds, she crept out from the safety of the bush. Looking around, there was no ready trail that she could discern. Thanks to the Girl Scouts, she remembered moss always grows on the north side of trees. After locating a sufficiently mossy tree, she made a right and plodded through the dense undergrowth in what she hoped was the direction of her building.
When she came to the rutted dirt path, Colleen looked both ways and her frown deepened in confusion. A nearby rumbling sound drew her immediate attention. Five rough looking men on horseback thundered around the bend less than twenty yards away. Frozen like a deer in the headlights, she stood transfixed as the men reined in to a walk and circled her on their large, shaggy steeds. She eyed their odd, dir
ty clothing and…no, not possible. It can’t be…
One of the horsemen barked something to the others in a strange language, gesturing to the rider nearest Colleen. With a quick bob of his head, the second man slid from his horse. He clucked his tongue and held out his arms as if trying to corral a skittish animal.
Jarred out of immobility by a sudden instinctive fear, she whirled and bolted for the woods. The wiry man caught her easily, tackling her from behind and slamming her face down on the hard ground. Sprawled atop her, he ran a bony hand underneath and felt around her chest, grunting in surprise. The knowing grin that spread across the craggy face left no doubts of the danger she was in. None too gently, he rolled off and jerked her to her feet.
With her arms pinioned behind her back in an iron grip, he frog-marched her to where the other men waited, their restless mounts stamping their impatience. One tossed him a coil of rope. When he loosened his hold to catch it Colleen took off again, this time earning a hard slap across the face when he caught her. When she screamed and struggled, his open hand curled into a fist and under the rain of blows that followed she mercifully slipped into unconsciousness.
* * * *
When she came to, darkness had fallen. Colleen found herself bound to a massive tree trunk at the edge of a small clearing. A heavy mist wove its way through the trees, adding both a decided chill and unwelcome moisture to the evening air. The coarse ropes cut into her tender skin, and her face hurt like hell. From the limited vision in her left eye Colleen was sure she had at best a nice shiner, at worst a fractured cheekbone. After a quick mental inventory, she decided the rest of her was unharmed, if a little sore from being body slammed into the ground. For now. She shivered.
Keeping her eyes narrowed as if still unconscious, she surveyed the creepy surroundings. The tethered horses stood by the edge of the darkened trees, still saddled. The motley group lounged around a campfire several yards away, shoving food into their mouths and washing it down with the contents of leather wineskins. Talking and laughing in low voices, their short swords stayed close by their sides. God, it’s like a bad horror movie, she thought. Where the hell am I?
The pungent aroma of the cooking stew drifted over to her. Colleen’s mouth watered in spite of her fear, her empty stomach rumbling in earnest. Her earlier captor’s head perked up at the sudden sound. He turned to stare at her through lank strands of greasy hair, his eyes sharp and black as a crow. Her eyes flew open with a gasp and he grinned, giving her an unappealing view of black and broken teeth. Tossing his wineskin aside, he rose and moved to crouch beside her.
The man reeked of a fetid combination of sour body odor and sweaty horse. Colleen bit her lip to keep from gagging, turning her head in search of fresh air. Judging from the inflection, he asked a question in his odd language. When she did not respond, he repeated it, gesturing with growing impatience.
Colleen shook her head helplessly. “I…I don’t…understand,” she stuttered.
The pockmarked face relaxed beneath the short, scraggly beard. “Ah, then. English, are ye? I be William,” he croaked in a strange, clipped accent. He was younger than she had originally thought, maybe only a year or two older than herself.
Without waiting for an answer, William continued his thoughtful musings. “Poor pretty, yer a long way from home, ain’t ye now? Nearest village’s a half days ride or more and ye out there all by yer lonesome without so much as horse or escort. Dressed all queer, too, thought ye just a sweet faced lad ‘til I saw yer tits a’bouncin’ when ye ran,” he added, gesturing to her chest.
She flinched as he stroked her hair with a grubby hand, rubbing a lock between bony fingers. “Fine as silk,” he muttered. “Yer clean and unmarked. Ye ain’t been out here long. I be thinkin’ yer a lady as slipped away from her lord for a bit of naughty fun and we found ye ‘afore yer lover did.” Her entire body froze at his next whispered words. “Don’t fret yerself none ‘bout yer tryst, pretty. We’re going to get to know each other real good, me and thee.”
Her mouth was dry and her lips were swollen, encrusted with the dried blood. “I’m…I’m American. I got separated from the people I was with. And I know they’re out looking for me,” Colleen stammered with as much bravado as she could muster, “so you better let me go, or else…you’ll be…in serious trouble. If you untie me now and release me, I won’t press charges. I promise.”
“Won’t do ‘em any good lookin’ where we found ye, will it,” he snorted with laughter. “We rode hard for hours after ye fainted away.”
Anger overrode common sense and her temper roared to life. Colleen bristled with indignation. “I didn’t faint. You knocked me out, asshole. Big difference.”
“Full of piss and vinegar. I likes that in a wench, makes for lively sport,” he cackled. He leaned in closer to inhale deeply and Colleen recoiled, but the ropes held fast. “Ye smell sweet as sin. We’ll be casting dice to see who gets a turn on ye, but I warrant it’s me who’ll be first to sample yer charms. I’ve allus been a lucky one.” He licked his lips. “I figures ye owes me a taste for all the work I had to do catchin’ ye.” His face moved toward hers, cracked lips pursed and she turned away in disgust.
“Don’t you touch me,” Colleen spat.
Without warning he gave her the back of his hand, knocking her head against the tree with a nauseating thunk. “Have a care not to offend me, bitch,” William snarled, grabbing her face and forcing it to his. “Ye might be a fine lady where ye came from, but in these woods yer just another whore to be used for a man’s pleasure. No matter, I’ll have ye beggin’ for my attentions soon enough. Methinks I’m going to enjoy teachin’ ye respect fer yer betters.”
Dizzy from the exploding pain Colleen groaned, her eyes fluttering as she fought to remain conscious. He gave her chin a bruising squeeze before thrusting it away with a cruel sneer on his lips, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Mayhap ye didn’t notice, but there’s five of us and only one of ye. Makes no difference to us if yer willing or not, so don’t fool yerself into thinkin’ it does. Ye won’t be the first ‘un we’ve had to strop down while we goes about a man’s business.”
He rubbed himself through his breeches absently while he spoke. With a bark of humorless laughter he added, “There’s naught like a good hard fuckin’ to remind a wench where her place is and that’s ‘neath the humping ass of whatever man’ll have her for as long as he wants her.” His grin chilled her blood. “‘Afore this night is over, pretty, that’ll be all of us. Ye’ll not be so high and mighty when we’ve finished with ye, I vow.”
She screamed then, cut short by his filthy hand slapping over her mouth. A curved dagger appeared in his hand, the blade resting just below her right eye. “Best ye not yell in me ear again.” He tapped the knife point against her cheek. “Ye don’t need a tongue for what I’m wantin’ ye for, but I’m inclined to get some use out of it while ye still have it.”
Colleen began to whimper, both in pain and escalating panic. The volume increased when she realized they had drawn the unwelcome attention of the other men.
William turned to his comrades and spoke again in that guttural tongue. They roared with raucous laughter. At his gesture, one of the men reached inside his pocket and tossed something at her. The small objects bounced and rolled to a stop at her feet, the firelight gleaming on the surface of the bone dice.
Surrendering to the primitive terror that roared over her Colleen screamed, thrashing wildly beneath her bonds and kicking in mindless desperation.
One of the men made a mocking parody of her cries for help. “Goban an fraochÚn,” he guffawed, putting his hands over his ears.
“Aye, and I’ve the perfect gag to slip ‘twixt those pretty lips,” William leered. He leapt to his feet and jerked up his leine, fumbling with the ties at his waist. With an obscene wiggle, his stained braies fell to his ankles while the other men jeered and hooted encouragements. He grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted the fine strands cruelly around his fist,
forcing her face upward. “Open that sweet mouth, yer ladyship. I mean to use it well this eve.”
Colleen cried out again and he froze, his attention suddenly diverted by movement in the deep woods. William jerked his head toward the trees where several of the horses pawed the ground in agitation. The men rose as one and crept forward to investigate, swords at the ready.
He gave Colleen’s head a painful shake before loosening his grip. “Ye make another sound, bitch and I’ll make ye beg me for death.” With a foul oath, her tormentor yanked his braies up and moved away to join the other men in the search. “Don’t worry yerself, pretty. I’ll be right back,” he whispered, blowing her a kiss and patting his crotch in a vulgar reminder.
One of the horses nickered and tossed its head. The nearest man melted into the dark woods to investigate, sword drawn. Colleen strained to listen over her terrified sobs. There was the sound of a furtive struggle and a soft grunt, then silence. She looked around for the other men, who didn’t appear to have heard the quiet sounds. She strained against the ropes, rocking back and forth in a feeble attempt to loosen them enough for her to slip out.
There was an explosion of activity to her right, just out of range of her vision. Shouts and the clang of metal filled the air until one by one the sounds died away, replaced by awful gurgling sounds Colleen didn’t want to contemplate. William scuttled over to her left, cowering unseen from the attackers. “There’s a whole gang of ‘em. Once they sees ye trussed up like a Christmas goose and awaitin’ their pleasure, I’ll get away clean,” he assured her. “Pity, I was lookin’ forward to dipping me wick in some genteel quim this–”
There was a blur, a loud thump, and William lay in a crumpled heap next to her. To both her relief and horror, Colleen felt her bonds begin to loosen. Biting her lip to keep from crying out, she pushed the rest of the ropes off and scrabbled to unsteady feet. Keeping her gaze lowered in case she was going from one bad situation into a worse one, she backed up against the tree and tried to slip around it unnoticed, away from where the fighting noises had come from. When a large hand shot out and caught her chin, she screamed and jerked away. “Which of the bastards struck ye?” a deep voice demanded. “I’ll gut the whoreson.”
Rogue on the Rollaway Page 16