Intuition: The Premonition Series (36 page)

CHAPTER 11

Copper Mining

Delusion. It means a false belief or a mistaken notion. It’s different from denial, which is the refusal to face an unpleasant fact or the refusal to acknowledge the existence of something. With delusion, you never see the something coming in order to deny its existence. I have been delusional in believing that I had escaped Crestwood without detection. But delusion seems to be the prevailing problem with all of the beings I have encountered recently. They believe they can make me one of them, and that is not only delusional, it’s a myth.

I rouse in agonizing pain. Not only does my head ache from tripping head-first into the grass at top speed, it also aches from being pounded by Brennus’ fist. But, that is nothing compared to the pain coming from my severed tendon. It began to heal immediately, but it will be several hours before I can stand on it, which will effectively FUBAR my best means of escape. On top of that, the smell around me is enough to make me ill. It is a sticky, cloying scent that reminds me of being trapped in a bottle of perfume. I think I must have moaned when I came to that conclusion because Finn looks back at me from the front seat of the car to ask worriedly, “Genevieve, are ye gonna boke?”

“Huh?” I ask weakly, because he is kind of hard to understand.

“Retch? Are ye gonna retch?” he asks with impatience. He then turns to Brennus, who is driving the car, and says, “I jus got dis bleedin’ beemer, and why is it dat all yous wans do na understand plain Anglish?”

Brennus doesn’t answer him so he turns to me for answers. “You will have to tell me what a ‘wan’ is,” I say through clenched teeth as I choke on the pain.

With a look of frustration he says, “Ye are a wan—a lass—a waman.” Finn draws out the last word, trying to make it more clear.

“A woman?” I ask for clarity.

“’Tis,” he responds, like he doesn’t have a word that means “yes.”

“I’m not familiar with your slang. How long have you been here?” I ask, trying to gain a frame of reference for what they are and how long they’ve been in the area.

“Longer than ye,” Finn answers.

“You know how long I’ve been here?” I ask as dread consumes me.

“I do,” he replies.

“How?” I ask.

“A lil’ bird told us,” he says cryptically.

“Finn, that’s not an answer,” I say.

“’Tis,” he replies with a sharp nod.

“Not a good answer,” I amend, and then I stick my finger down my throat and retch all over his new beemer.

“Ach, Genevieve! Ye banjaxed me beemer! Ye bleedin’ hallion,” he says in disgust as he sinks dejectedly in his seat. Brennus, however, finds it funny as he peers at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes twinkling in approval.

Brennus pats his brother’s shoulder. “Yer wan can clean it for ye, Finn,” he says, placating Finn who opens the window to get some air in the car.

Thank God, I might not be able to stop retching now with the smell of vomit and the “fellas” in the front seat,
I think, gulping in deep breaths of warm air, trying to clear my head. We are further away from the water. The smell of pine trees and earth alert me to the fact that we are in the hills for sure.
No!
I think, as it just now dawns on me that if they know how long I have been here, then they probably know about Russell, too. I can’t ask about Russell, just in case they don’t know about him. Laying my head against the seat, I wonder when he will discover I’m missing.
Will he stick to the plan and leave town? Please, God, protect Russell,
I pray as pain makes everything dark again.

When I become conscious again, Brennus is hauling me out of the back of the beemer.
He is being gentle now, like I’m someone he has found hurt and he is assisting me out of the car, so he can make it all better,
I think scornfully.
I hate it when the supernatural swing from one extreme to the other. It makes me feel unbalanced.
I almost want to tell Brennus to pick a side and stay there because being nice, and then all of a sudden wigging out is really scary.

With that in mind, I begin to struggle immediately as Brennus swings me up in his cold arms, hugging me to his even colder chest. Seeing that we are heading to the yawning mouth of a cave, I study the terrain around me as best I can, while attempting to get free. The cave is partially hidden by a huge rock that had not fallen from the rock face above, but looks like it has been placed there on purpose to shield the entrance to this tunnel. Trying to gaze around at the terrain behind me, to see where we had come from, I look over Brennus’ shoulder and hear him bark, “Ye will na be leaving here, so ye do na need ta know whah is back dere.”

I don’t answer him, but use my forehead as a battering ram, crashing it into the bridge of his nose. My head aches more, but I don’t mind that so much because I get to hear the satisfying crack that lets me know that I broke his nose. Brennus, not making a sound, pitches me forward into Finn. He catches me easily as Brennus walks on ahead of us into the cave. Finn looks at me in shock and says, “Whah, Genevieve, ye
are
a hallion, but na a very smart one!”

“Why? You are going to kill me anyway. I just thought I would get it over with now,” I say as Finn signals to the fellas to pick me up and take me inside.

“I won’t kill ye. I’m surprised he is lettin’ us even touch ye now atall. But ye are right, he will kill ye soon, and after he does, ye are gonna have years to make it up ta him,” Finn says. Then, he walks on ahead of us as I fight and hit anyone within range.

I don’t get a chance to decipher what Finn is telling me, because after we enter the tunnel, he disappears down a deep hole that is more like a mineshaft. The shape of it is square, like it’s man-made and not occurring naturally. I don’t have time to study it because the fellas carrying me jump into it, too, and we fall a couple of stories to the ground below. Whoever it is that is holding me does a decent job of absorbing the jolt of hitting the ground. The impact is bad only because it rattles my swollen heel, making me want to retch again. Well, that, and the fact that we fell several stories, and I thought we were going to be flattened for sure.

Immediately the place takes on a familiarity of a well-watched movie scene, only it hadn’t been a DVD that I had rented, but a nightmare I had dreamt. It’s Merlin’s House—Morte Darthur—the cavernous chambers in my dreams. They are dug out of stone… the unusual gray walls that bleed with green are rock and copper… tarnished ore like an old one-cent coin. The walls are an earthy green in spots and in other spots it’s brilliantly shiny and reflective as a new penny. The ore runs in veins within the walls, giving a marbled appearance to the stone that is stunning. Gray stone Corinthian columns, as tall as pine trees, reach to the ceiling far above. They are a marvel in this place, so polished and symmetrical, but they appear to have been carved out of the same stone as the walls because they have the same ore within them. Stone staircases branch off in several directions. Some lead up to other chambers and some lead down. I’m interested in the ones that lead up. I have no desire to see what is beneath this hall.

Brennus is nowhere to be found when my entourage carries me to the long, rectangular, medieval wooden table and ornately carved chairs.
It’s just like my premonition
—
I should have known.
Finn is still with us, though. He scans me as I sit with my legs awkwardly twisted beneath the chair. I am still wrapped in the netting that someone had harpooned me with at the library.

“Ye look a mess, Genevieve,” Finn says, and he has the decency to look sorry about it.

That is kind of weird,
I think.
Why should he care? Freaking monster
—
can’t pick a side.
“Thanks, Finn,” I reply, trying not to show how terrified I am at this moment. “You look as fresh as a daisy. Your beemer, on the other hand…”

He smirks at my sarcasm. “Have ye control over yer emotions yet?” he asks. I frown at him, trying to figure out what he is asking me now because I’m clearly not crying. “I will cut da ropes off yer legs if ye promise not to kick me or break me face wi’ yer head because I would like to keep it as ’tis.”

I think about what he just said. The ropes are cutting into my skin and it would be a relief to have them off of me. “I promise not to kick you while you take the ropes off,” I reply.

He looks skeptical, but he bends down, pulling a wicked-looking knife from his boot, and begins cutting at the rope that ensnares me.
Why don’t I carry a concealed weapon on me?
I wonder, watching him slice through rope like butter.
If I make it out of here alive, I’m always going to carry a knife on me
—
I can strap it to my thigh,
I scheme. I try to pull myself back together because my head is spinning and I feel really dizzy. I should be trying to focus on escape.
I think I may have a concussion.
The room spins again and tilts at a strange angle.

“Caul, are ye?” Finn asks when he is done removing the ropes from my legs. I don’t answer him, but just stare at him because my brain can’t decipher what he is asking me. “Ye are shakin’—are ye caul? Do ye need a blanket?” he tries again.

I’m numb, I have no idea if I’m cold or not, but I think I might be going into shock,
I say in my head but I’m so disconnected that I can’t say the words aloud.

Turning to a fella by his side, Finn refers to him as Ninian. Seeing Ninian staring at me with his steely-gray eyes, I shiver in fear before he turns to Finn. He seems to be picking up on all of the nuances in Finn’s body language as he speaks quietly to him. I hear the words: Brennus, blanket, and shock. But, things are skipping on me. I’m in and then I’m out again–dazed, and then clear. Ninian disappears within seconds into a stairwell of stone steps that leads up from this floor.

They can move like angels,
I think dejectedly. Ninian returns, mere seconds later, with a fur blanket that could be mink or sable on one side and on the other side it is lined with silk. After Ninian hands it to Finn, he steps back solemnly. Finn moves forward, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders and wings gently, careful not to touch me otherwise. I droop against the chair as the heaviness of the blanket covers me.

I should’ve fought harder,
I tell myself as the library comes into focus in my mind.
I should’ve done Bruce Lee all over them. I could’ve taken at least a couple of them out. No more evasion… if I get the chance, it is pwnage time,
I promise myself before the room goes black on me.

When my eyes open again, they focus on a blazing fire. It burns in one of the monumental fireplaces that line the wall of the stone chamber I had been brought into earlier. Feeling stiff and uncomfortable, I look down, seeing that I’m lying on the dark, wooden table that I know stretches out for yards. The blanket that Finn had covered me with earlier is still on me. My head hurts like a brick fell on it, so I’m not going to try to lift it up just yet. I just watch the fire dance and cast evil looking shadows all over the room and ceiling above me. My brain is trying to make sense of all of this nonsensical information it’s receiving. It’s more like jargon than actual fact.
How can this be happening?

“Is she awake?” a familiar voice asks from somewhere near the other end of the gothic table. I recognize the voice, but I can’t quite place it. My heart kicks up a notch, though. Unable to lift my head off the table, I crane my neck up, in an attempt to see the owner of the voice. I stop before finding him, because the shooting pains in my head prevent me. Drawing my legs up closer to my body in the fetal position, I wait for the voice to speak again, so I’ll know who it is. He doesn’t speak right away, but a rapid buzzing emits from somewhere close by—like a buzz saw or a—I still.

Rage makes my head throb and pound.
Death
—
Pain
—
Retribution
—
Beg! He will beg me, and he will have no mercy. None.
“Alfred—you still out there, sweetie?” I ask like Buns would, not moving at all.

“Did you miss me?” he asks, coming around the table to stand in my line of sight. How kind of him to accommodate me. He is only half-dressed, having taken off his shirt to allow for his wings to expand. They are buzzing sporadically as the excitement of this moment is intensifying for him. I can see their iridescent shine, even in the depths of this sunless chamber. He looks beautiful. He must have really had to try hard to look normal when I met him. I think the Lego hair that he used to sport really had gone a long way in hiding his angelic qualities.