Heir of Earth (Forgotten Gods) (45 page)

The ancient steel lock on the door screeched as I turned it into place, as did the locks on every window. In a matter of seconds every lamp and light was ablaze in the little room. I was nervous and fidgety and had to make a conscious effort to breathe normally.

It’s ok. He’s with you.
I said over and over in my mind, ringing my hands before me. I went to the kitchen and pulled a slice of pizza from the box. It was cold as the cardboard it sat on. I went to the stove and quickly realized it was an old wood burning type. I definitely did not know how to use that. I instinctively looked for a microwave.

“Yeah, right,” I laughed out loud, remembering how long ago Dayne had lived here.

After choking down a few bites of the cold pizza and some Coke I gave up and tossed it back into the box. My stomach was way to nervous to eat anything.

I wandered down the hallway, turning on lights as I went. The first door I walked through was a large bedroom with a king sized bed. It was a formal room, its grandeur somewhat out of place for the coziness of the cottage.

A magnificent marble bath and a closet almost as large as the bedroom itself opened through glass French doors along the back wall. Rows of shoes and purses and clothes hung in the closet, all pressed and clean, ready to wear. The racks overflowed with formal gowns, richly decorated with jewels and finely stitched details. It wasn’t the wardrobe of a simple country life. On the opposite side hung a man’s wardrobe, the finest suits and formal trappings of a royal’s attire. There were white calfskin gloves, shiny black patent shoes, floor length fur coats and cashmere dinner jackets.

I imagined a woman standing in the tiny little kitchen with an apron wrapped around one of these glamorous gowns as she tried to make dinner for the family. Diamonds dangled from every finger as she stirred a bowl of something and scowled at the little boy in front of her.

The next room was ballerina pink, plastered with the perfectly lacquered headshots of old Hollywood royalty. A white dressing table sat littered with the tools of a young girl learning to become a woman— jewels and lipstick tubes spilled over the surface.

A row of mirrors with a ballet bar attached covered an entire wall. A dressing stage rose in front of it, providing an ideal spot to admire one’s self from any direction. An old record player sat in the corner. Hundreds of vinyl records spilled off the table beside it. I could see a little girl twirling around the room, pretending she was dancing with her prince at a royal ball. I picked up one of the records and blew at the obscured label. Dust flew into the air, making me cough. How long it had been since anyone had stepped foot in these rooms and why did they seem frozen in time while the rest of the house was not?

The last room I came to could have been down the hall from mine at Rose and Phin’s. It was normal. Dark blue walls were decorated with a few posters of baseball greats. A catcher’s mitt and ball lay on the desk. A few books rested on the bedside table. Drawers were filled with well-worn clothes, pants with thread bare knees and t-shirts worn soft with use. This was Dayne’s room. I picked up a harmonica and blew a few notes, the instrument’s sound piercing an eerie silence that had crept into the cottage with the night.

Miniature riding boots stood in the corner. I picked them up– amazed his feet had ever been so small. A framed picture of him on a horse hung on the wall nearby. Was that LeSheen? Couldn’t be. Well, maybe it could.

A familiar bag lay on the bed. He had known this would be the room I would want to sleep in.

I picked a book from the bedside table and went back to the den, stopping at a table of framed pictures. I hadn’t noticed before, but the only pictures were of Dayne. A few frames stood empty on the table, their cardboard backing faded where pictures of the family who had abandoned him once belonged.

I don’t know why, but that one small detail chased away any lingering doubts I had about the cottage. This was Dayne’s house. No one in his family wanted this life. They yearned for something grander, something more spectacular.

Looking around me I noticed the windows had become mirrors of black since the sun had set. I couldn’t even see the porch, only the room’s reflection shining back at me like unwelcome, spying eyes. It was a little too creepy. After pulling the curtains closed over all the windows I looked around the room and let out a great sigh. Only a few more hours. I kept telling myself.

Sleep would be hard to come by tonight. I turned a few lamps off and threw more wood on the fire. The blaze flickered brightly around the room. I settled on the couch with my book, wishing I had a furry little dog snuggled warmly beside me. The fire crackled in the hearth, and crickets chirped at the moon outside. I focused on the normalness of the night and tried to forget about the danger of the Sidhe hunting party Dayne would be entertaining at Ennishlough tonight.

Somewhere in the first chapter of
Treasure Island
I drifted off to sleep.

It didn’t register
at first.

Click-thump, click-thump
.

What was that? My heart raced in immediate panic, the blood rushing so loudly in my ears I had to strain to hear anything at all.

Click-thump, click-thump.

A chill shot through me. My eyes searched the room wildly. I didn’t dare move and risk being discovered. The fire had burned low, offering little light.

Don’t invite anyone in.
Dayne’s words came back to me. I would be safe. No one knew about this place, and no Sidhe could come in without an invitation.

Click-thump, click-thump.

Terrified horror washed over me when I realized the sounds coming from the porch were footsteps. They grew louder as they moved to the end of the porch nearest me. I stood up, not knowing what to do, gulping at the knot that had tangled my throat into a bulging wad.

Click-thump. Click-thump.

The steps stopped in front of the window, just a few feet from me. A strong wind rushed down the chimney, nearly blowing the fire out. I lurched out of my skin, and spun in time to see the little flames struggling along the wood, burning low, gasping for air.

To my horror, I looked up and saw the wind had also blown the curtains open.

A face stared at me through the window. A hungry smile played on the beautiful lips.

I blinked my eyes, hoping it was all just a dream. I pinched myself so hard I screamed in pain, or fear. Or both.

Her full red lips curled into a deeper, more satisfied grin and let out the tiniest peel of laughter, a sound more beautiful than the tinkling of soft bells. She paused, pity in her eyes as she stared at me. Her head tilted and she smiled warmly once again. The fire stoked back up and she didn’t look so scary. She looked absolutely stunning.

Her clothes were the latest in high fashion. I had seen them on the pages of April’s magazines. The
click-thump
I heard was the sound of her high heels walking along the wooden porch. I was sure they were beautiful too, probably the ridiculously expensive kind that had a red sole painted beneath them. Her hair was loose and wavy. It was the style every starlet in Hollywood paid top dollar to have woven into her own wimpy strands. Surely, her hair was naturally that gorgeous.

Everything about me wanted to be near her. She was the perfection little girls dream of growing up to become. She looked like the kind of girl who had never heard the word “No” in her life. The kind of girl whose hand never touched doorknobs, those were held open for her by men dumbstruck by her beauty. Her designer clothes were probably free. Fashion houses would fight to have her wear their designs. She was a better endorsement than any multi-million dollar advertising campaign.

Anybody who saw this woman would assume she had hit the genetic lottery, but I knew better. I knew the danger that lurked beneath her beauty.

She put her small palm up to the window and tapped a red manicured nail playfully against the glass to get my attention.

“No.” My voice cracked with fear. Confusion crumpled her brow, confirming my suspicions—she wasn't familiar with the word. Her brow relaxed infinitesimally and she smiled sweetly, giving the slightest of questioning shakes with her head. The loose waves of hair swayed like golden fields of ripe wheat around her. I wanted to hate her for looking lovelier with her face lightly scrunched in confusion.

“You can’t come in. You’re not welcome in this home.” I knew she had never heard those words before. As breathtaking as she was, as much as I longed to know the secrets of mastering her womanly ways, I wasn’t going to invite her in. I knew she was one of them, and I knew she wanted me.

The demi-goddess’ head tossed back with another enchanting peel of laughter.

“But, my darling, I am home.” The voice was soft like cotton candy. Barely above a whisper. She didn’t need to speak loudly. She was used to people hanging on her every word.

I was so struck by the melodic sound that played on my ears I didn’t realize what she had said.

“Home?” I snapped back to attention, shaking my head in confusion. “This isn’t your house. It’s Dayne’s!” I walked around behind the couch, not taking my eyes off her and reached for a sturdy looking candlestick on the table by Dayne’s picture.

Click-thump, click-thump.

The footsteps trod leisurely to the massive wooden door. Helpless against whatever power commanded it, the locks unhooked themselves and the door swung open.

She stood before me in the doorway, an evil smile dripping from her lips as she watched the mind-numbing fear of her presence engulf what was left of my nerve. She let out a tiny puff of laughter and smirked when she stepped over the threshold into our cottage. I tried to swallow the huge knot that had popped up in my throat and gripped both hands around the candlestick, holding it high by my ear, ready to swing if she came near. Looking from her to the object in my hands, I suddenly felt like I was facing a grizzly bear attack with a fly swatter.

She was tiny, maybe an inch shorter than me. Her limbs were so delicate I imagined a strong hug could break her. Yet the presence she commanded was undeniable. Beneath her frail looking frame bubbled the force of a nuclear power plant waiting to explode at will.

I backed away from her, knowing I was trapped when the wall met my back. My hand that sat poised, ready to strike, fell down to my side in defeat, and the candlestick clattered on the wooden floor.

She smiled and shook her head. “Relax, Faye. I have no intentions of hurting you. I’m just curious about what has my brother so enraptured.” The sound of her voice and tilt of her head were the most alluring combination I had ever witnessed in a woman.

It would make sense that Dayne’s sister would be just as immaculate as he was, even though they looked nothing alike, and I watched wide-eyed as she walked around the tiny den, obviously well acquainted with her surroundings. She picked up the same picture of Dayne I had hours before. Her delicate fingers stroked the frame, and she smiled lovingly before setting it back down. All of a sudden, she didn’t seem so bad. There was something familiar about her. Something I had seen before, but I just couldn’t place it.

“So, I guess Dayne told you we were horrible, soulless creatures? That we abandoned him at Ennishlough? Left him all alone in the world?” Her words were dramatic and mocking.

“Something like that.” I was amazed my throat was capable of producing sound, as my body was quite incapable of moving from the frozen posture it was stuck in against the wall.

“What exactly did he say about us?” She frowned when she picked up one of the empty frames.

“That you didn’t agree with each other’s views.” The words came from me unwillingly. Was she making me do this? Was she forcing me to share our secrets? The last thing I wanted to do was betray Dayne’s trust, but my words were not my own. Enough strength—or sense— returned to me to lower my hands, and they searched along the wall behind me, desperately grabbing for any way out.

She walked closer to me. A delicate perfume hung lightly around her, tempting my lungs to inhale deeply, but I feared it was one of her fairy tricks and forced my nostrils shut. In a nanosecond she inspected every inch of my face in microscopic detail without saying a word. Her expression was impossible to read as she quickly turned and traced a finger down the mantle, her beautiful high heels ringing out with every step as her finger continued to trail silently down the white wood, away from where I cowered. With her retreat, I gulped in a deep breath, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the creature. She smirked at me over her shoulder, but said nothing.