Shadows of the Keeper (15 page)

“My lady, we might wish to begin
our journey while the way remains open for you,” Allen said, nervously eyeing
the Elves.

“I’ll ride wi’ you,” Kavan piped
up, dropping scones into a makeshift sack of his tunic’s hem.  Meowing
erupted, O’Shay skidding to a halt in front of Emily and twining himself in and
around her calves.  Emily scooped up the heavy tom, nuzzling his thick
neck, eliciting loud purring.  “You want to go too?”  O’Shay answered
with pathetic mewling.

“Uh, I’ll stay.”  Kavan dumped
his pilfered scones onto the table.

“Why?  Because the cat’s
going?”

“
Especially
because the
cat’s going.  Trouble follows that mouser.  Better I remain, and
sleep.  Startin’ ta’ feel the consequences of having been up all night.”

“I thought you liked checking out
the Goth chicks?”  Absently, Emily scratched O’Shay’s head. 

Kavan glowered at the feline. 
“Ye’v no shame, O’Shay, no shame whatsoever.  Mi’ apologies,
milady.”  A quick nod, the watchman gathered his food and quickly vacated
their presence. 
Too
quickly.

“Perhaps, Allen, you should take
Princess Emily and uh, her
cat
before the Outlanders realize their
quarry has returned to his mistress?”

Emily nuzzled O’Shay’s round
face.  “You’re in big trouble, fat boy.”

Several men erupted into laughter,
choking into their fists when Emily eyed them.  She was missing something
. . . a
big
something.

“You’re coming with me.”  She
hefted the huge tom over her shoulder, patting his backside much like an
infant.  “Those mean men touch you, we’ll turn ‘em into kitty chow
for you to snack on.  Let me grab my
rolls of film, Allen, then I’ll meet you at the drawbridge.”  She
giggled.  “
There’s
a sentence I never thought to hear myself say.”

*  
*   *   *   *

“I thought lightening didn’t strike
during snow storms.”

A large raven cawed from the
thatched roof.  Peter eyed the pest, still annoyed over its pre-dawn
racket.  The hag listened to the bird then she turned around, put a hand
to her brow, and studied the far horizon of twin mountains, their peaks lost in
thick clouds.

Now I’ve seen everything. 
As if the dumb bird actually communicates to this woman.  Jesus, this is a
bunch of crap I’m saddled with. 

“Today, you will see your
castle.” 

Peter glanced the mountains in time
to witness a jagged streak of lightening. 
Oddest thing.  If I
believed in the supernatural, or had half a brain, I’d be on the next plane
outa here. 
“Thought you said the castle was nothing more than
legend?”  Cawing disrupted the quiet again, the bird shuddering, its black
feathers puffing.  The old woman’s gaze shifted, encompassing him once
again. 

He’s a mean Sassenach. 
Just like the others from before
.

Black bird dipped its head,
agreeing, their mental connection continuing.

He tries hiding it, but stench
of treachery seeps from his very pores.  Once, Cianna, I would have
cowered, terrified of his ilk.  ‘Tis why I like this realm.  No one
can come up to a body’s home and tear it down. No one can burn you out, nor
cast ye’ into winter’s snow, your bairns dyin’ from cold.

“Did you hear me?”

The old woman nodded.  “Aye,
laddie, I hear ye’; all o’ Hell hears ye’.  You go on up to those
mountains.  You’ll find what ye’ seek.”  Bitterness filled her
tone.  “When ye’ arrive at the village, mind yer’ tongue.”

 “Excuse me?”

“ ‘Tis said the townsfolk be
guardians of the MacLarrin.  If ye’ are as rude there, as ye’ ‘ave been
here, ye’ might no’ like what comes ta’ teach ye’ some manners, laddie.”

Peter marched towards her.

The elder’s eyes shifted. 
Flames flickered in place of irises.  “Whoa!”  Peter flung an arm
over his face, and dipped down and back.  He leapt from the porch in order
to avoid falling.  Righting himself, he looked up, terrified evil—

Gone. 

Everything
. 

Radically altered.  The entire
building, now nothing more than dilapidated.  Wraparound porch, he seconds
ago stood upon, rotted with more boards missing than remaining.  Snow
covered garden had morphed into a dark, savage, overgrown continuous knot of
brambles and vines. 

And the hag with fire-eyes had
vanished.

Overly large raven spread its
wings, repeatedly dipped its head, and cawed wildly.  Shadows swirled and
thickened, reaching for him from over the barely existing picket fence. 
Sprinting to his car, grateful he’d had the mindset to load his luggage last
night, he leapt in before realizing he was on the wrong side. 
Fuck
! 
Clamoring out, racing around to the other side, he again crammed in, fumbled
with the key fob and finally got the damn thing inserted, turned, and
started.  Engine roaring never sounded so good.  He glanced back at
the house.

Something stared back. Partially
hidden behind grime-covered broken window.  His skin puckered.  Hands
shook.  Gravel and snow spewed from churning tires, Peter speeding away
from the impossible.

“Cianna, go warn our guardian that
trouble hunts his woman; trouble from the mortal realm.”

The raven took flight, lifting
higher and higher before large wings expanded further.  Feathers
fluttered.  Caught up in the wind, hundreds and hundreds of black feathers
swirled, arced and spiraled downward until coming to rest on a long forgotten
field.  The old witch observed the bird contort into what humans would
have screamed, crossed themselves, and ran to the nearest church, should they
witness up close what flew high, high above.  None would openly admit to
having witnessed a gargoyle, very much alive, soaring towards a castle not seen
on this side o’ the ‘door’.  Last night, Lady Fate had ordained the
treacherous mortal to be shown the way to Castle MacLarrin.  So be
it.  But first loyalty to Hades decreed Cianna to be sent to warn
Dezenial, regardless Fate’s fury over her deceit.  As far as she was
concerned, where had Fate been when her wee Robby died in her arms during those
horrific Clearances?  Hades had wrapped her bairn in ermine, personally
cradling his lifeless body during her son’s final journey.  In return,
Hades had instructed Aggie that one day, his own son would need help—
mortal
realm
help.  “Hurry, Cianna,” the ancient pagan whispered. 
“Please get Dezenial . . . for all of our sakes.”

*   *   *   *   *

“These won’t be ready until next
week?”

“Nay, milady.  I ‘ave ta’ send
them on down ta’ the city—Inverness.”

“Okay.  Why don’t we make it
two weeks?  That way, no one has to rush on my account in this
weather.” 
Provides the perfect excuse to escape Urkani again,
Emily mused.

Allysyn’s smile ignited her
face.  “Tha’ would be verra fine, milady.  Mi’ da volunteers with the
other men ta’ plow the village.  They’ll be at it for several days.” 
She leaned over the counter, and dropped her voice.  “Snow seems ta’ fall
hardest just after they shovel and sweep.  They shake their fists at the
sky, curse, warm their innards with whisky, and begin again.  Fer’ years,
he’s been at this.”  She laughed, shook her head, and scooped up the
numerous film envelopes Emily had finished filling out.  “Have a look
around.  Ye’ might see somethin’ ye’ like before returnin’ to yer’ side o’
the
door
.  Allen, your order of pens arrived yesterday.”

Allen dipped his face closer to
Emily’s ear.  “Don’t have much.  Buy something.  It’s how they
make their living, winters slowing down tourists and profits.”

“Ghosts ordering pens?” Emily
whispered back.  She moved away and started browsing various winter gloves
and knit scarves.  Urkani had slipped her modern money, several hundred
pounds, relaying that Broc had offered for her to buy whatever essentials she
needed.  These plaid wool scarves were lovely.

“By chance, did Aedan travel wi’
ye’?”

“No, just O’Shay,” Emily answered
with a smile.

Visibly disappointed, Allysyn
lifted her light burden of boxed envelopes and turned away.  “I’ll get
yer’ pens, Allen.”

Hide, Keer’dra, now!

Thought I was rid of you.

Cease your commentary. 
Hide.  I command you to obey!

La, la, la, I can’t hear you.
La, la, la.

KEER’DRA!

Emily’s hand flung up before she
could catch herself; before remembering ferocious shouting was in her head, not
her physical reality.  Allen gave her a curious look.

“Um, maybe we should leave,” she
suggested.

“We’ve only just arrived.  I
promised Prince Aunsgar—Henry’s coming.”

“Here now, we ‘ave customers and
the girl’s—Allen?”  A brawny man exploded from the curtained
backroom. 
Gah, he could double as Barney Rubble
!

Allen offered a slight nod, and
rocked back on his heels.  “Henry.”

“Och, ye’ ken mi’ Allysyn. 
She’ll be wrapping yer’ pens, bagging ‘em all pretty like,” he shook his
balding head.  “What can we do fer the laird today?”

Emily tried being covert versus
straight out staring.  How this man sired willowy, beautiful Allysyn was
beyond what she could wrap her head around.  Almost, she laughed.

“O’Shay!”  The man smacked the
countertop.  Emily jerked.  “I see ye’ travel wi’ a bonny
companion.”  He winked at Emily.  “Come up ‘ere, ye’ scurvy weasel.”

“He was a sailor, decades,” Allen
muttered.

“Think we can get him to say ‘ahoy,
matey’?”

Allen deadpanned. 

O’Shay jump upon the high counter,
distracting them both.  The cat stared down at the treat Henry had
offered.  Settling on rear haunches, staring stupefied at the small
vittle, O’Shay cocked his head as if indeed curious about Henry’s offering.

 “ ‘Tis no’ verra courteous
ta’ turn yer’ nose up at an offer of food,” Henry boomed at the red tom.

O’Shay hissed.

“O’Shay!  I’m so sorry!” 
Emily glared at the animal.  “You’re rude, O’Shay!”  Embarrassed, she
gathered the feline. “I’m afraid he’s spoiled; therefore, ruined.”

“An adequate description of the
creature.  He’s also been sniffin’ around mi’ Allysyn.”

O’Shay hissed, this time swatting
at the man.

“Oh my God!  I’m so—“

“Ye’ yellow-bellied sea rat!” 
Henry bustled his thick frame from behind the counter.  Floor planks
creaked and Emily could feel them vibrate under her feet as the man lumbered
towards them.  O’Shay rocket-launched off Emily, running out the still
open glass door from a customer having just left.  “Come back ‘ere!” 
Henry stood at the entrance, shaking his fist.

“I’ll go find him.”  Emily
sighed, pressing her sweater to absorb sprouting blood where O’Shay’s claws had
gouged her.  “Give me a minute, Allen.  He’s pretty good about coming
right to me.”  She made her way to the door.  “Damn cat.  All I
need is to chase through town, looking the idiot in front of strangers.”

“I’d leave ‘im ta’ freeze,” Henry
snapped loudly, obviously still yelling at the nowhere-to-be-seen cat.

“I’ve sure he merely
sniffs
around your Allysyn
because he’s mooching food.  I have to find my
cat.”  Emily’s glare had the desired effect as she squeezed past the man.

Cold, late noon wind smacked her
blind.  She needed sun. 
Texas
sun.  Snow was all fine
and good, at first.  It quickly became a royal pain in the—

“O’Shay!” 

I should be like Brits.  A
grin lit her face, what cats were referred to here versus back home. 
“Here, pussy, pussy, pussy!”  She couldn’t hold back giggling.  Nor
was she going to repeat that.  “Just too awful,” she whispered to herself.

 Red tail flicked before
darting past a stranger huddled in a red phone booth, the man’s car still
running, exhaust fumes turning the snow black.  “O’Shay!  You get
back here right now, or I’m leaving you here!”

The man turned to glance her.

“Sorry,” Emily muttered,
embarrassed she’d been caught yelling.

Recognition delayed.

The man’s was lightning fast.

Leather-gloved hand clamped hard
across her mouth.  Strong arm squeezed around her waist, forcing out the
last of her air.  “Move, and I’ll snap your neck,” Peter hissed in her
ear.  “Get in the car, Emily.”

Yowling erupted at their
feet.  Emily’s muted screams were to no avail.  She flung her arms,
and even tried bashing her head back against his mouth.  Nothing broke his
stranglehold, her lip now split by her own teeth.

Abruptly, Peter hollered out in
pain.  O’Shay wrapped around his ankle, sinking canines into flesh. 
Peter kicked furiously.  O’Shay dangled, midair, welded to the man’s
calf.  With his other foot, Peter kicked the cat.  It had the desired
effect.  Barracuda jaws released their hold.  Peter commenced
dragging Emily backwards, towards his rental.  “Get in, or I put a hole
through your back.”

Emily froze.  Something hard
jabbed her spine.

“How the hell did you get a gun
into this country?”

“Know a few people.”

“How did you find me?”  She
struggled against being shoved down into the vehicle.  This time, the gun
pressed against the base of her skull.

“You’ll drive.”

Feline screams and yowls
erupted.  Darkness quickly airbrushed the skies as if evil forces closed
in. 
Fitting
.

Peter yelped.

“O’Shay,” Emily yelled, terrified
Peter would harm the cat.

“That’s
your
cat?” 
Peter swiveled the gun around, aiming at the enraged furball.  “Why am I
not surprised?”

“O’Shay!  Get back! 
Scat!” Emily stomped in front of the animal.  Sprayed with snow, rabid
feline bounded backwards.  And arched.  The beast’s puffed tail
swished side-to-side.  Awful keening emitted from deep within its
chest.  Pupils dilated into black marbles.