The poor girl had been through hell; the welt marks he had caught a glimpse of on her lower back when he had moved her were obvious evidence of the suffering she must have endured. He hadn’t had time to see how far up the wounds travelled but he suspected her whole back must be a mass of whip marks, it made his fists curl in anger thinking that someone had harmed her like that. The need to protect her overwhelmed him, he knew that he would die for this girl if it meant she was safe. The stirring of feelings for this girl knocked him for six, he hadn’t felt anything like this in a long time. Feelings got you killed, he was a no-strings kind of guy when it came to women. The way his body had reacted in the car park before when she had held his gaze for longer than he was comfortable with, had scared the shit out of him. He had blushed, for fuck’s sake. What was it about this woman that sent his beast into overdrive? Heather was right, there was something special inside her and he had every intention of finding out what that was.
She was beautiful, the way her long auburn hair framed the delicate features of her face; her big emerald eyes which had flecks of brown in them were full of fear and uncertainty. He wondered how they would look filled with happiness and laughter. Her perfect full mouth was turned down with sadness and pain because of her ordeal, he wondered what she would look like smiling and how those perfect lips would taste pressed against his. His jeans became tight and he growled in his throat, even the thought of kissing this woman made his insides a mess. He cursed himself for the inappropriate thoughts; she needed his help, not him lusting after her like a sleazy asshole. He slammed his hand down on the counter, pissed at himself, and decided it was time to join them, he had stalled enough. Grabbing the first-aid kit off the side, he stomped his way to the front room.
Clara Clara sat on the big sofa nursing the tea Iris had just given her; she took a small sip. Her battered body welcomed the warm sweet liquid as it travelled down to her stomach heating up her insides. She licked her lips and placed the cup back on the coffee table in front of her. She stared blankly at the big open fire place watching Iris add fresh logs, making the flames crackle and spark against the wood.
She didn’t want their pity, she just wanted to go home and she swore as soon as she could she would be out of here. Something screamed at her to trust these people, if they wanted her dead surely she would be six feet under by now. Her sister always told her to ‘trust her gut’ and for the first time in months she felt like she could be safe with these people.
“Are you feeling any warmer, sugar?” Iris asked which shook her out of her trance.
“Much,” she answered, offering Iris a small smile of gratitude. Iris walked over, kneeling on the floor by the coffee table, pouring out another tea which she added three heaped spoons of sugar to. The door to the lounge opened and Colt walked in carrying a small bag. She watched him as he strode around Iris and the coffee table, taking the seat on the other side of the couch to her.
“Hey,” he mumbled quietly, placing the bag on the table, “there’s a bathroom upstairs, I am sure you would welcome a hot shower and some clean clothes. Your leg will need a new bandage put on too.” His dark eyes held hers; they were filled with concern for her.
She didn’t know what to say or do, she felt overwhelmed by all this attention, so she just nodded and averted her eyes from his, looking down at her joined hands on her lap. She twisted her fingers together nervously. The way his eyes bore into her it was hard to focus on any rational thought. She knew they would want details and questions answered but at this moment in time her body was exhausted and her nerves were shot. Maybe she would feel human again after she freshened up.
“A -a shower sounds wonderful, thank you,” she stuttered, looking from Iris to Colt. He was still watching her intensely. The butterflies in her stomach were going mad from his gaze and she felt her cheeks heat up. Why was he looking at her like that? As if sensing the tension in the room Iris stood, speaking as she did.
“I’ll come help you, sweetie. I have some new pyjamas that will fit you perfectly, we can worry about clothes tomorrow. Come now, darlin’, let’s get you cleaned up, then you can get some food in your belly.”
She offered her hand; Clara took it and lifted herself awkwardly off the couch, wincing as her body protested at the quick movement. Once she had found her feet again Iris grabbed the bag off the coffee table and offered her arm. Clara took it nervously, allowing Iris to lead her up the stairs. She noticed the glare Iris gave Colt as they left the room.
The stairs were easier to climb than she had anticipated and with Iris’s help she reached the top in minutes, holding on to the dark varnished wooden banister for extra support. The upstairs of the house was just as inviting, the warm browns and creams that covered the vast landing gave it a homely feel. The original wooden beams were still visible and added to the charm. The landing had six doors and more stairs leading to another floor.
“That’s the main bathroom on this floor,” Iris said, pointing at the first door on the right they walked past. “This will be your room; the bedding is freshly changed daily, the rooms on this floor all have ensuites, so you’ll have privacy,” she said as she opened the third door along, turning on the light switch. The room was stunning – it had a tasteful floral theme. The walls were cream, as was the bedding apart from a big thick throw draped over the bottom of the bed which had red flowers and swirling green vines. The curtains which lay either side of the massive window were cream with a thin line of red across the bottom. There was a little oak dressing table with a chair to match under the window and a small single wardrobe against the wall; next to the wardrobe was another door leading to the en-suite bathroom.
“It’s beautiful,” Clara said, trying to take in everything.
“You treat this like your home, darlin’,” she drawled. “If there’s anything you need just ask.” Clara nodded, a lump formed in her throat which she swallowed, feeling a little overwhelmed by the hospitality and kindness this woman was showing her. “Thank you,” she croaked, her voice full of emotion.
“No problem, honey.” Iris smiled at her which lit up her beautiful face and brightened her dark eyes which were so much like her brother’s.
“There are clean towels and a new dressing gown on the back of the bathroom door, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, some women’s razors, oh, and a new toothbrush and paste.” She paused. “My room is on the next floor, but if you need anything, just holla.” She left, muttering something about pyjamas, leaving the door ajar slightly.
Clara awkwardly removed her tattered, bloodstained jeans slowly and folded them, placing them on the chair. She carefully removed the dirty bandage which covered her injured leg so she could assess the damage, and maybe try to clean it herself. She was expecting to find an open hole in her thigh but she was surprised to find she had stitches where the wound was and it had been thoroughly cleaned – it looked so much better than she had anticipated, Colt must have... oh God. She felt heat rise to her cheeks again, why did she blush every time she so much as thought about him? Shaking off the thought that he’d seen her half naked, she wrapped the bandage back around her leg and carried on undressing. She slowly removed her sweatshirt; the welts on her back were still tender and stung a little when the material rubbed against them so she had to be careful not to catch them too much. Once her sweater was over her head she folded it and placed it with her jeans, and hobbled her way to the bathroom.
The bathroom was huge for an en-suite; there was a walk-in shower and a bath which looked big enough for two people, a sink which had a huge mirror above it, and a toilet. She used the toilet first, removing her panties. She turned the shower on and tested the water until it was the right temperature then she eased her aching body under the welcoming warm flow. She took time washing her hair, lathering her body with the lemon-scented body wash Iris had provided, and she shaved herself best she could with one of the new razors. Once she was clean and felt almost human again she turned the shower off and reached over
to the towel rail for the big fluffy towel hanging there, and was pleasantly surprised that it was warm. She wrapped herself in it, welcoming the softness against her skin. She grabbed a smaller one off the rail and wrapped her long hair in it.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror; she didn’t recognise the pale, drawn face looking back at her. There were little scratch marks on her cheeks, she had a little split in her bottom lip and a bruise under her eye, she was a mess. Tears filled her eyes and she placed the lid of the toilet seat down and sat on it; the realisation that she was finally free hit her like a tentonne truck. She sobbed tears of anguish and relief for escaping that hell. She cried until her sobs turned into hiccups and her tears dried on her face.
A light tapping on the bathroom door startled her. “You ok in there, darlin’?” Iris called through the closed door.
Realising she must have been in there a long time, she answered. “Yeah, I’m ok, I’ll just be a minute.” She swilled her tear-stained face with cold water, blew her nose and grabbed the dressing gown off the door, putting it on and tying it around her slim waist. She opened the door and entered the bedroom.
Iris was sitting on the bed, the look of concern evident on her beautiful features. “I was getting a little worried then, darlin’. If you need to talk about anything, sometimes it helps,” she said, a sad half smile on her lips.
“I am ok, it’s just... the relief of being safe, I guess,” Clara answered, feeling a little embarrassed that Iris had heard her meltdown. She just could not seem to control her emotions and tears threatened to spill again. “I can’t thank you enough for your kindness,” she said, her voice breaking slightly.
Iris stood and walked over, wrapping Clara in her arms, taking her by surprise. She flinched and then stiffened when Iris’s arms touched the still-tender marks on her back. As if realising she had hurt her Iris loosened her grip slightly and moved her arms away, the look of concern back on her face. “You hurt your back, honey?” Clara nodded at her, knowing that once Iris saw her back she would need to tell her everything. Iris’s eyes watched her intently. “Do you mind if I look?” Iris asked.
Clara slowly turned around, lowering the robe; the gasp that came from behind her told her Iris had seen the top of the marks. She loosened the towel, slipping it further down her back, exposing the raw marks that branded her skin.
“You poor love, what did they do to you?” Iris said, her voice husky with emotion. “I was locked away for months,” she started. “They took blood from me every week, said it was for the Master, I never knew what they meant by that... I was blindfolded so I didn’t see their faces except for when they whipped me or slapped me around. They seemed to get off on inflicting pain.” She steadied her shaking breath. Clara hobbled over to the bed and pulled her robe back over her shoulders, covering herself, and sat down, her head bowed, fingers twisted in her lap. The guilt ate her up, she prayed the other woman was safe.
“If I fought back, one of the other girls they kept prisoner were beaten and tortured worse than me and I was made to listen to her screams. One of the older women helped me escape, think she had been there along time so knew her way around. We split up once we were out – I headed south and she headed north. We thought it would be easier that way... I don’t even know if she made it, she’ll be killed if they catch her.”
The bed dipped next to her and Iris’s small hands wrapped around hers, comforting her. “You’re safe now, sweets, they ain’t gonna find you here, and when we can we’ll find out what happened to that other lady that helped you,” Iris whispered emotion evident in her voice. Clara was surprised to find tears in Iris’s eyes when she looked up and met her gaze. “Did they say why they had you, why they did this to you?” Iris asked, squeezing her hands reassuringly.
“No, the only thing I was told was that I was important to the Master and he would send for me when I was ready, I never met him but I could sense he was there sometimes watching them torture and taunt me.” She remembered the tingles down her spine like pin pricks when she sensed his presence, eyes stalking her as she knelt on the stone floor blindfolded, bound, and shivering. She shuddered at the memory and bile rose in her throat. As if sensing her decent into her darkened thoughts Iris tightened her grip on her hands, bringing her back to the present.
“We have said enough for tonight, honey, we can talk more when you’re feeling up to it. Thank you for confiding in me,” Iris said, her voice husky. “You must be famished, I will go and get supper started after I have re-bandaged that leg. You come down when you’re ready.” Iris applied some funny-smelling ointment to the wound before she re-bandaged her leg. As she worked there was a comfortable silence between them, they had said all they needed to for now. Clara felt like she had found a kindred spirit in Iris and for the first time in what felt like forever she thought everything was going to be alright.
Chapter Four
Colt Colt sat on the edge of his bed and pondered the day’s events. He had fulfilled Heather’s wishes and brought Clara somewhere safe. He was sure she would follow them here in a week or so to sort out what happened next. One thing was certain, after seeing the state she was in he had to keep Clara hidden for now, at least until she healed.
He reached over the end of the bed and grabbed his satchel from the floor. He pulled out the journal Heather had given him and flicked through the pages until he found what he was looking for.
Clara’s face stared back at him off the page, the only difference was the woman in the drawing had raven-black hair and her eyes were brown.
Underneath the drawing read:
Annabelle Vandran Born 2nd of January 1684 Great Goddess and protector of Hunterscove Murdered 1703 at the hands of Domini Bellatorum
Through the blood a new sorceress will rise “Shit,” he cursed at the picture, his chest becoming tight. What did all this mean? He had heard tales from Heather of the great Annabelle, she had been one of the last descendants of a Celtic goddess named Airmid who had the power to heal the sick using herbs. Annabelle was said have taken on Airmid’s powers and became a powerful white sorceress; her calming spirit magic brought peace at a turbulent and unsettled time in Hunterscove.
They had found Clara not far from there in Hunters Woods.
He read on, trying to absorb all the information in front of him. Annabelle, had settled in Hunterscove with her Wiccan father. Hunterscove is a little fishing village on the outskirts of Dublin. Annabelle and her father were accepted and loved by all the townsfolk. Some folklore stories told of how she had the power to heal the sick or give easy rest to the dying.
At eighteen she formed her bond with a powerful familiar named Daniel. Her companion took on the form of a Canis lupus or grey wolf. The bond between Cailleach and companion was so strong they fell helplessly in love, and got married. Around a year later she had given birth to a son who she named Nicholas; it wasn’t known what form her son had taken, there was only speculation. Her joy was to be shortlived as word about Annabelle’s whereabouts had travelled to a group of holy men who called themselves Domini Bellatorum, known in this age by the English translation, ‘The Master’s Warriors’. They followed the word of the great Master called Dominus. He was believed to be an ancient warlock driven mad by the power he possessed. He had become obsessed with Annabelle’s beauty and her white magic, he believed she was a gift from all the gods he worshipped and she had been sent to this world to become his bride. He became enraged that she had given away her heart and purity to a mere companion, believing she should have given herself to someone of a higher stature because she was a descendant of a goddess. He was her perfect match and giving away her body to anyone but him deemed her magic tarnished and weakened. His anger and jealousy drove him insane and he became enraged, shouting to anyone who would listen that she had betrayed him. He convinced all his followers that Annabelle was an abomination and she and her bloodline needed to be wiped out before she brought great harm to Hunterscove and the people there.
Whoever took Clara and held her captive must have traced the legend back and found out who raised Annabelle’s baby.
This was bad. Clara wasn’t just important to Heather but to the whole of the spectral community. He had to protect her with his life, but he wasn’t sure he could do it alone, he needed more information on the psycho who was after her.
He was so conflicted. If this was what he suspected, Clara was supposed to be protected as soon as she was born and kept away from this madness. She wouldn’t understand their world, he barely understood everything himself. Placing the journal on the bed he rubbed his temples; he was getting one of his headaches, they always came with a vengeance after one of his meetings with Heather. He needed to talk to Clara and find out how much she knew, maybe Iris had gotten some information from her before. Damn this fuckedup situation. He didn’t want to frighten her off, the thought of her hurting even a little ever again made his blood boil and made him want to rip the throats out of anyone who had. He slammed the journal closed and placed it on the bedside table, he would head out at first light and see if he could find out more information on this Master.
Unfamiliar (The Vandran Legacy Book 1) Page 4