Soul Inheritance (11 page)

The image she found herself staring at began to change. As she watched in astonishment the reflection became warped and distorted. It began to clear again, only now an entirely different creature glared back. In the place of her slender body was a thick, hairless being with greasy skin and sparse, stringy hair. Its eyes were dark and menacing with a strange sort of glint. Coming from the side of its skull were pointed ears a little too large for its head. Instead of feet it had talons, long sharp nails. Alarm growing, not wanting to look, but unable to turn away she began to tremble. Slowly, as though she had no choice, she reached up to touch her hair. Her clawed fingers found the greasy, sparse mess and then the grotesque ears. The reflected image mocked her movements. In speechless terror she shrunk from the wall of water and sank to the ground. Not wanting to look at the abomination she buried her face in her hands.

“
This can’t be happening, this isn’t real.”

Katherine drew her head up to look again. The creature was gone, but behind her was a familiar terror. Greystone stood looking at their reflection with a malicious grin. He lumbered over her with obvious superiority, his wings spread wide in a show of dominance. Reaching down he took her in his claws.

His nails dug into her shoulders as he picked her off the ground like a pebble. He raised her until their faces nearly met, stared deep into her eyes. It was all familiar, he was familiar. Not just from her brief encounters. Somehow she knew the man inside the beast.

“
Miranda. Sweet Miranda. My soul mate. It’s time you came home. You were pledged in exchange for power. You’re mine by your own hand. You shared in the power as well as those who first promised. Used it to your advantage. Time to pay up. And I’ll take nothing less… than you!” The voice was deep as he spoke, with that familiar wispiness, no hurry, no hatred. He laughed hideously, the sound echoing around the lake.

“
But… I’m not Miranda. I’m Katherine, you have the wrong one. Please…” She struggled and squirmed in his grasp. The sharp claws sank into her flesh. Thunder roared in the distance, announcing one of the summertime thunderstorms that regularly swept in on the lake.

“
Don’t you understand, you’re all one in the same. Now, stop fighting. I’ll get you sooner or later. Just give up.” He grinned, reminding her there were worse things than his embrace. Sounds of revelry came from the house and he looked in that direction. His hold faltered and as it did Katherine jerked loose. She hit the ground hard and scrambled away, struggling to get her footing in the mud.

“
Oh, a fighter. You want to play. That’s okay. I like to play, but I warn you, I play rough!” He watched her go and only laughed, the sound flowing behind her like rushing water.

Katherine stumbled on the long skirts as she fled into the forest. He called after her in the low, baritone of a once handsome man. She crashed through the trees, disregarding the branches that seemed to reach out, tearing at her clothing and hair. She felt one rake her upper arm, cutting through the sleeve and skin. She raced through the forest, until she stumbled out into a clearing. A small cabin crouched there in the dimness. It was very rough and decrepit, with ivy climbing two walls and a crumbling chimney. Katherine gathered her skirts, pulling them high, ran across the clearing and up the steps. Slamming the door she grabbed the bolt that leaned on the wall and threaded it through the iron loops just as his footfalls came lumbering onto the porch.

She heard him stop, sniff the air. His breathing heavy and labored. He moved about the porch.

“
Now, now, Miranda. Why do you run? You know I would not hurt thee.”

Katherine barely dared to breathe.
‘Miranda? Who is Miranda?’

“
Miranda. Come out and walk with me.” His tone was almost forlorn.

The cabin was quiet except for the sound of crickets outside. Greystone leaned against the door waiting for an answer, any sound from within.

“
Miranda. You must come out. I must have you. You loved me when you thought me to be a man. You sought my company, whispered of forever,” he paused. Pleading changed to anger in a flash. “They all fought at first, but eventually came to love me. Loved what I could do for them, loved what I could give them. Your gypsy magic will not keep you safe forever! Come to me!”

Katherine sank down in the corner between the wall and the fireplace.
‘Gypsy magic?’
She looked more closely at the ring in the dim light.
‘Who am I? What am I?’

There was a crash as Greystone threw his weight against the door. The bolt cracked. It was dry and brittle with age. One more good hit sent it crashing to the floor in splinters. Greystone’s silhouette was broad and harrowing. Katherine searched frantically. There was only the door and two windows. She rushed toward the overgrown window where the most light was showing through. Greystone sprang forward, pinning her against the windowsill. They stood face to face in the fading light. Katherine was amazed at how human his face looked, with chiseled features, high cheekbones, broad forehead and sharp chin. The ears lying far back from his face began the transformation from human to beast.

He gazed into her eyes and she into his. Katherine’s breath was shallow and swift; Greystone’s fast and hot. She felt sweltering tears running down her cheeks, heard her voice gathering strength. She wasn’t sure what it was that reflected in those deep grey-blue eyes, but at the sight of her tears it turned to contempt.

“
Greystone, please…”

His talons cut into her forearms where he clutched her to his chest, nearly lifting her off the floor. His grasp went from desperate to harsh. He loomed above her, pulling her from the floor, stretching her out, pinning her to the rough hewn wood of the wall. Thick, pointed fangs shown in his broad smile as he drew her hand near his lips. He kissed her fingers, took the tips into his mouth. His hot, wet tongue slid down the finger with the silver ring, hooking underneath it.

“
No, no. Greystone, Please…” From somewhere very deep inside Katherine felt the urge, the need to fight. Struggling against his grasp she balled her hand into a fist, kicked and screamed and fought to free herself.

‡

Dora sat in the library until the birds started chirping and the first faint light of dawn arrived. Leaning back in the old chair she rubbed her face and looked at the books that lay spread out on the table. She had managed to decipher the first passages of the old book that the girl carried tucked in the top of her luggage. The pictures almost told the tale but they made little sense as they were.

They were the founding family. Celts from Scotland and England. The last of their families thanks to the Christian Empire  and their “cleansing” of their nations. The extermination of anyone who did not bend to their beliefs and ways. The McKlannen’s had hidden their heritage and their beliefs, gone along until they could escape on the first available ship to the new world. Dora reached down and turned to the next page.

A shrill cry resounded through the house. Dora rushed out into the hallway. There she paused, listening. She heard a whimper from Katherine’s room, threw open the door and rushed to the bed. Dora threw the covers aside and shook her shoulders, feeling the warm liquid running between her fingers. In growing horror she realized it was blood. Never had she seen dream travels so frightening, so strongly physically manifested. So out of control.

“
Katherine, wake up. You’re not safe outside of the house.”

‡

Katherine fought with all her strength, his hot breath blanketing her neck as his face drew closer. He slid his hand across her shoulder and to her throat. At first his caress was gentle, then his talons closed in tighter.

“
I’ll have you Miranda. One way or another, death doesn’t part us. No matter who you are you’ll always be mine.”

Another strike of lightning came with her own ear splitting scream, though deep inside she knew there would be no one to hear. His hand closed around her throat until she could feel her own pulse. She struggled with the hand that restrained her, cutting off her breath. Her head began to tingle with a lack of oxygen and finally consciousness gave way to darkness.

From far away she heard a voice. It drew her to it. She could feel herself falling.

Katherine woke abruptly, hands in front of her face. Dora stood, shaking her as she gasped for air. Her throat burned from screaming.

“
Katherine, snap out of it!”

She sat up, forearms aching and shoulders stinging. Her shirt was red with blood at both shoulders and on the arm torn by the tree branch. The pulse beat hard in her neck as it began to swell where he had taken her by the throat.

Sitting on the edge of the bed Dora, looked at her for a long moment. Footsteps on the stairs drew their attention as they turned to see several of the people from the rooms below slipping through the hallway to stare.

Dora proceeded to assure everyone that all was fine. Katherine had just been having nightmares. “That sort of thing often happens after the death of a loved one,” she coaxed as she saw them to the head of the stairs. “Sorry for the interruptions.”

By the time she had returned Katherine was standing out on the balcony looking out into the fading night.

“
It’s soothing, the night. The subtle sounds that creep from the darkness.”

Dora joined her by the railing, looking out over the gardens.

“
Shame it’s almost dawn. I always did like the nights best. Until the dreams, anyway.” She glanced at Dora. “How did he get in? They weren’t able to do that yesterday.”

Dora rested her hand on Katherine’s arm.

“
He didn’t come in, you went out. You’re traveling away from your body in your dreams. Or at least I thought you were.” She stared at Katherine’s arms. “He’s stronger there. He can actually touch you, hurt you. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.” She shuddered visibly, motioned Katherine inside. “I’ve been able to translate some of it. The first few passages anyway. Mind you it’s a rough translation.”

They sat at the table. Dora turned the book back several pages. “Each drawing has meaning. The Latin just fills in the details. Here, on the crest, for instance. On one side you have a man, on the other a beast. Behind the man you have the sun and rays of light. Behind the beast, the moon and stars. Their hands are touching. They’re one in the same. Representing some sort of transition from man to beast. On the bottom of the crest is a crown, around a three pronged scepter, a symbol of power that Christians turned into a sign of evil.”

Katherine studied the crest. Strangely these were things she already knew. During the time she’d just spent at the lake she’d learned that Greystone had been the man in the first drawing. She also knew there’d been some sort of deal struck to save their family.  A deal that involved power and payback.

Reaching out Katherine pulled the book to her as she sank into one of the chairs. She stared down at the crest, ran her hand gently over the page. She was beginning to understand and she didn’t like the logic. Turning to the first page she took a deep breath.

On that page was a drawing of a regal man in his late twenties dressed to the nines in mid sixteenth century clothing, a hat under one arm and a decorative cane in the opposite hand. Behind him were a sloping hillside and the cove where the house was built. The bare bones of the house loomed there as storm clouds gathered overhead. A strange tingling energy ran through her. She shivered as so much became clear.

“
This is the man that started it all. He brings to mind grey stones and cold water. He traded what he was for the power to save them. He sought it out.” She turned the page.

The house was complete and huge, though not as big as it stood now. It was also somewhat plainer with clapboard siding and a circular drive leading to and from the front. A stable stood close by with corrals on the side away from the house and horses grazing peacefully. A group of ten picnicked down by the cove. A very normal scene with Greystone standing in his human form just above and away from the others, looking out over his domain with satisfaction. There were small symbols of the family crest on his jacket.

“
They settled at the lake, named after them,” Dora volunteered. “They started several businesses in shipping and trading. The town developed around their businesses, but he kept all of that away from the lake, because the lake was the center of power. That is the rough translation of the Latin at the bottom of the page. It’s a sort of picture book of the family history. Why it’s written in Latin is probably apparent later, when the story becomes more… protected.”

“
Yes, the power’s anchored there. Or maybe he’s anchored there because it was their home. But whatever the case it’s centered there.” Katherine felt numb as the words tumbled clumsily out.

Dora cleared her throat. “It survives as long as the family line survives. He conjured power, before the book was started. He traded for power. It lives in its host so long as it has something to feed on. I’m guessing greed to always increase strength. The family power flows in your veins. It’s attracted to you for the natural ability you were born with beyond what you inherited from their ‘additions’ to the natural energy around them. Something happened that put you beyond their reach. Whatever it was they weren’t counting on it. You carry the ability to attract power to you from the environment. Charisma comes naturally, knowledge of things you’ve never learned, sensing things that’re there without knowing they’re there. Your strength is hereditary. But there’s something else that makes you unique, otherwise he would simply hunt down others and make the same exchange, he keeps within the blood line. Maybe it’s because your ancestors made the deal, so to speak.” Dora seemed stern as she fell silent.