Shifters Hallows Eve

by Lori King

  Oor friend? She thinks Ah'm her friend??

  Unsure what to make of her words, but unable to stop his forward motion, Kyran continued his slow approach, the scent of daffodils and sunshine filling his senses. This woman, the one whose very essence called to something deep within him, was the one he knew could repair not only his broken soul, but his shattered heart as well. It made no sense. It went against everything he’d become in the last century. To seek help from anyone only led to pain and anguish. But since his first vision of her, the past ceased to matter. She was the glorious sun and he merely the cold dark moon hovering in the magnetism of her presence, thirsting for the warmth and light only she could provide.

  The closer he got, the faster his heart beat, the more his dragon stirred within his mind and the quicker he stepped. He could not remember a time he’d been so excited to see another person. During his imprisonment and torture at the hands of the Hunter’s Alliance for Humanity’s Sake, people equaled torture, which meant pain, which always led to Kyran’s total loss of control. Something he’d been taught was unacceptable from a very young age. With the most powerful banshee to be born in a millennium as a mother and the grandson of a Dragon

  King for a father, the incredible strength of the black dragon’s magic had been no surprise, but his ability to control it had been nothing less than miraculous.

  Then came the evil wizards and the hunters who bartered him off to Tariq O’Baoill and his evil twin offspring. From that point forward, Kyran’s life had been mere flashes of the memories of an illustrious history as a Guardsman in between endless bouts of pain and torture. He’d held onto his power with an iron fist, kept both his magic and dragon on a tight leash just as he always had, but then came the day he’d been strapped to a table with silver chains, sedated with a horrible concoction that burned through his body while wizards poured black magic into his dragon marking.

  Stopping dead in his tracks, Kyran smacked his hand to his chest. The feel of grit and dirt on his skin coated the palm of his hand as he touched the still-raised glyphs that had come later during his stay at the O’Baoill’s Hotel Hell. Looking down at his legs, his stolen tattered jeans looked even worse than when he’d washed the blood and mud from them in the grotto he now called home. The only reason he still wore them was because they were ‘borrowed’ from his brethren after his recent visit in which they facilitated the removal of the trackers the hunters had embedded in his neck and arm. They were his symbolic link with his clan, the one he wanted to make a reality once Eve O’Baoill was dining in Hell with her Father and brother. His bare feet were caked with mud that only served to hide the scrapes and scars that also covered most of his body.

  “She cannae see me lik’ this,” he mumbled, turning on his heel and all but running back the way he’d just come.

  “Wait! Don’t go.” Her words stopped the black dragon mid-stride. Standing like a statue, unwilling to believe his ears, he waited. Heard her deep inhale. Her desire to meet him almost as desperate as his need to be near her - a living, breathing entity within him, pushing Kyran to turn back and go to her. But it was what she said next that nearly broke his heart.

  “I’ve waited so very long for someone I could trust, someone who wanted to know me…for me.” She paused and in the silence he felt her sadness, her loneliness, the incredible loss she kept buried beneath a hard shell of strength and determination. They were kindred spirits. Two souls searching for respite. Unable to deny her, or himself, the kinship of someone who understood even the words he might never be able to speak, Kyran slowly turned back.

  Non o' this makes any sense…

  But it didn’t matter. Nothing in his world had made sense in so long, the black dragon couldn’t actually remember what ‘normal’ felt like or if he’d ever really known. The only thing he was sure of was that this woman, this beautiful creature all alone in the world, was the only one who could help him.

  Taking one step and then another, he made his way to her. He watched her furrowed brow relax and her frown evolve into a smile so sweet…so bright, it stole the breath from his lungs. Stopping just short of the wooden deck, ignoring the low growl rumbling from her dog, Kyran took a deep breath and asked, “Are ye sure, lass?” He looked at his clothes again and shook his head, “A'm a mess. Mabbee we should just chat oot 'ere.”

  “I’m sure you look fine. Now, come on in, have some tea, maybe something to eat.” Not waiting for his answer, she turned and with a snap of her finger ordered, “Duke, stop growling and come.”

  He watched her open the door, walk inside then turn and look in his direction with a grin, “Are you coming?” She chuckled then furrowed her brow in a mock scowl, “Or do I need to send Duke out to get you?” Snickering again, she added, “Where are my manners? My name is Caitlin Brookes but you can call me Cait if you like.”

  Taking the steps onto the deck, Kyran replied, “Kyran, Kyran O’Connor.” Then quickly began to apologize, “A'm sorry fur th' wey Ah look. Ah’ve bin…camping.”

  The untruth burnt his tongue, whereas any other time in all his two-hundred-plus years he’d been able to lie like a thief and charm the pants off any lass who crossed his path. It also bothered him more than he wanted to admit that he felt self-conscious in this woman’s presence. The need to impress her, show her that he was worthy of her attention…her kindness, made both man and dragon uneasy, off-balance.

  Once again, it was the truth he felt in her words that calmed both Kyran and his beast. “I really don’t mind,” she chuckled, running her fingers through the fur at Duke’s neck. “You look fine to me.” Her chuckle turned into a laugh that sounded more joyous than the bells of All Saints’ Cathedral on Easter Sunday. Taking a deep breath, she calmed her laughter and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be silly.” She shook her head, “It’s just been a long time since I felt comfortable enough with anyone to laugh and joke. The only people I see are doctors, nurses, and caregivers, who all feel pity for the poor little blind girl.”

  Blind?

  It was then he saw the tiny white scars emanating from her hairline flowing around her light blue eyes and across the bridge of her pert little nose, like the tiniest of spiders had decorated her porcelain skin to show its appreciation for her beautiful image. The closer he looked, the more stunning she became. Her long, thick, dark hair was straight as a stick, flowing down her back and onto her bum while shining in the moonlight like spun ebony silk. The length and curl of her ebony eyelashes made the crystal azure of her eyes glow against the backdrop of the night that surrounded them and just touched the natural pink glow of her high cheekbones when she blinked or smiled.

  Her pouty red lips with their defined cupid’s bow reminded Kyran of the hearts the vibrias used to leave in his lunch pail on Valentine’s Day, and made his own mouth water to see if they tasted as good as they looked. She was tall and curvy and held herself with confidence. So much so that he was sure no one ever thought of her as disabled in any way.

  Watching her hand as she continued to stroke the dog’s fur, Kyran noticed the same web of scars across the back of her hand and up her wrist. It suddenly made sense why he’d always seen her in clothing with long sleeves. He was filled with anger that someone so amazing had suffered such pain.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She turned to go into the house with head hung low, murmuring, “Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?”

  Her words pulled him from his thoughts and had him rushing to explain. “Na, na, na, lass, it's Ah whoo is soory.” Kyran took a step forward. “Ah wasn't thinkin’. Wasn't payin’ attention.” He tried to chuckle and even to his ears it sounded forced, like a rusty hinge opening after too many years dormant. “Tis Ah whoo is soory,” he repeated, not sure what else to say.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about. There’s no way you could’ve known.” She turned back toward him, looking so relieved that his worry simply floated away. Motioning with her hand, she headed back into the house,
calling over her shoulder, “Come on in. Let’s have something to eat. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  Kyran opened his mouth to tell her he was fine at the same time the scent of something succulent wafted out of her home, and his stomach growled so loudly, Caitlin laughed out loud. Helpless to do anything but laugh along, the black dragon followed her across the threshold and into the kitchen. Shutting the door behind him, he stood with his back against the wall and watched as she ran her hand along the counter, stopped at the stove and, after putting mitts on both her hands, opened the oven and pulled out a foil-covered pan that filled the air with a most heavenly scent.

  Rushing to help, Kyran bit back a curse as he grabbed the hot dish, holding on until it was safely sitting on the stovetop. Hissing as he looked at his bright red palms, the black dragon reached for the faucet just as Caitlin screamed, “Oh, my God!” Tearing off the mitts, she grabbed the backs of his hands and shoved them into the sink while turning on the water. “What were you thinking?” she scolded. “From the smell of burning skin, I am sure this is going to blister,” she continued, holding his burned flesh under the cool water.

  Her hands on his skin sent electric shocks rocketing through his body. Kyran held his breath, never wanting it to end, afraid it would never happen again, feeling light-headed and more than a little disoriented. Holding her head up, facing him as if she was looking at him with a scowl that spoke loudly of the level of her displeasure, Caitlin chastised, “Why did you do that?”

  “Ah…Ah…,” Unsure how to answer, because it had been pure instinct to help her when he saw her struggle, Kyran finally said, “Ah’ll heal.”

  Pursing her lips and rolling her eyes, Caitlin opened a cabinet just above her head and after just a few seconds of rubbing her fingers across the top of several containers, pulled out a brown glass jar, unscrewed the lid and began to cover his hands with a paste that smelled like herbs and flowers. Before he Kyran could ask, she was explaining, “It’s just liniment my father taught me to make when I was a little girl. And I know you’ll heal. We all heal. That’s not the point. You got hurt in my home. That is not acceptable. You have suffered enough.”

  Once again her words took him off guard. She cared? About him? And knew… Before he could finish his thought, Caitlin was pulling him toward the table and with her hand on his shoulder forcing him to sit. Muttering to herself, she walked to the refrigerator with very deliberate steps, held out her hand at just the right time, opened the freezer and pulled out a tray of ice cubes.

  “How could I let this happen? He’s hurt…again?” She mumbled under her breath. Kyran smiled, listening to her talk to herself as she made two ice packs with plastic bags and returned to his side.

  Taking his hands, she laid them palms-up on the table, then gently placed the ice packs she’d wrapped in tea towels on his throbbing skin. The shock of the cold against his hot skin woke him from his stupor, making him realize she had asked him a question. “Tis okay, Caitlin. It'll be goone soon enough, bit what dae ye knoo o' mah suffering?”

  Turning her head away from him, the blush on her cheeks darkened and her pulse raced. He’d seen it many times but always in those attempting to lie to him. This time, he felt no deception, no need to hide anything from him, only Caitlin’s embarrassment and if he wasn’t mistaken, a touch of fear.

  Worried he’d frightened her, Kyran quickly apologized, “Ah’m sorry. Ah dinnae mean to be gruff.”

  Shifting from one foot to the other, Caitlin slowly turned back toward him, laid her hand on his shoulder and sighed, “Stop apologizing, Kyran. You’ve done nothing wrong.” She paused, took a deep breath and then continued. “How about we get you something to eat, then you take a shower,” Caitlin grinned and pinched the tip of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, “Because I may not be able to see you, but I will admit that you smell a little worse for wear.”

  “Ah’m soo…”

  “And if you apologize one more time, I swear I’m gonna let Duke bite you,” she laughed out loud. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. That old adage about losing one sense and the others become more acute is true. I swear I know when my neighbors are baking cookies, and they live more than ten miles away.”

  Feeling a little better but still not sure how one blind woman could turn his world upside-down and inside-out, Kyran nodded in agreement, then quickly added, “Okay, if yer sure. Ah wull admit it smells reelly good.” As if on cue and to make matters worse, his stomach chose just that second to, again, growl so loudly that not only did Caitlin laugh but Duke growled back.

  Still giggling, she walked to the stove, pulled plates from the cabinet to her left then reached into the drawer on her right and pulled out a knife. Wanting to help but not wanting to seem pushy, Kyran stood, slowly walked to her side and asked, “Cannae help?”

  Taking the foil off the roast, she handed him the knife and teased, “I’m guessing you’re worried about the blind woman using a knife.” Her wink stopped the apology that was on his lips as he took the knife and smiled, “Na, ma’am nae at a'. Juist tryin’ tae hulp.”

  Nodding and shaking her head, Caitlin grinned, “You’re not a very good liar, Kyran.”

  Nae wi' ye …

  It was true. He couldn’t lie to her…didn’t want to lie to her. Something about this special woman made him want to be a better man…a better dragon. He knew she wouldn’t like what he had to do. Might even try to talk him out of destroying another human being, but she didn’t know Eve O’Baoill. Didn’t know what the evil bitch had done and would keep doing if he didn’t stop her. Caitlin was sensitive. He could feel the empathy and goodness pouring out of her. There was no way she would ever condone what he had to do. He could try to explain, try to make her see reason, but then what would she think of him?

  Her hand on his arm made him jump and ask, “What?” with much more force than he intended. She smiled and chuckled, “I think you’ve sliced enough. By my count, there’s ten pieces, and unless you have your whole clan out there, I’m thinking you can stop.”

  “Mah clan?” He asked, stepping away from her touch, needing to shield himself from whatever spell he was under and look at Caitlin with clear eyes.

  His dragon growled and pushed the man to return to her side, but Kyran fought the need, instead asking, “Whit dae ye knoo o' mah clan? Or any clan fur that matter?” He leaned forward, “Whit dae ye knoo o' me, Caitlin Brookes?”

  Knowing she couldn’t see the threatening look on his face made Kyran feel better. It lacked his normal fierce demeanor and the rage that was always brewing just under the surface. Because if Kyran O’Connor was honest with himself, he didn’t want to intimidate Caitlin, didn’t want to scare her. He wanted to protect her and keep her safe from anyone or anything that could take the smile from her face. Unfortunately, the fact remained, this little blind girl, as she’d called herself, saw more than most, and he needed to know how and why.

  “What I know of you, Kyran O’Connor, is that you are a dragon,” she answered with more sass and attitude than he thought possible as she slammed her fists to her hips, furrowing her brow and continuing, “Not only a dragon but a one of the elite Dragon Guardsmen.” She took a step forward. Her breast heaved as her temper grew. “I know that you have suffered at the hands of your enemies. I know that you have more regrets than dreams. I know that the need for revenge drives your every move, and I know that you sat out under my weeping willow tree for six nights, standing guard, protecting me without a clue why.”

  She took one more step forward, shaking with a rage he somehow knew wasn’t directed at him but that nonetheless, he needed to understand. Opening his mouth to ask, he never spoke the words as Caitlin added in a low ominous tone, “And what I know, that you never could’ve guessed when you found your way to my home, is that I want Eve O’Baoill dead even more than you do.”

  2

  She hadn’t meant to say that. Hadn’t meant to let him know she knew what he was, w
hat he’d been through, or that she, too, had a personal vendetta with the evil bitch, Eve O’Baoill, but as her old granny used to say, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. And…Caitlin never could keep her mouth shut, especially when she was angry.

  Her propensity to open her mouth and insert her foot had only gotten worse since the fire, and the many, many foster homes she’d run away from in the middle of the night to keep innocent lives safe. Not only had she needed to stay hidden from the hunters who killed her family, but also the full-blooded banshees who wanted to use her hybrid power for their own ill-gotten gains. Her mother had told her stories about the ones called ‘The Others”. How they lived on the fringes of not only human society but also apart from the other ‘special’ people in the world, using their advance knowledge of death to steal from those bound for the afterlife right under the noses of their grieving families. They were evil and tired of being pushed aside because of their affinity for death.

  Because Caitlin was both banshee and gypsy, she not only possessed the foresight of death but also the ability to tell a person’s future….to see more with her magic than anyone’s eyes ever could. “The Others,” should they find her, would use her advance knowledge to find even more unsuspecting victims who were still months, or, more likely, years from death. With the ability to plan farther ahead, they would be able to amass untold fortunes, and then attempt to rule the paranormal world. That much unchecked death and darkness would be detrimental to the delicate balance of light and dark, and without a doubt would lead to Armageddon. There was no way Caitlin could let that happen. So, she stayed hidden, waiting, watching, and praying for an answer. Never had she imagined it would come in the form of the dragon standing before her, but here he was, and there was no way she was losing her opportunity.