The Silent Goddess: The Otherworld Series Book 1 (16 page)

She exploded out the door stumbling into her kitchen that was crowded with bodies.  She stumbled, large hands reached out to grab her.  Hands still clamped over her mouth she threw her elbows out in self-defense catching the jaw of Griffin in the process.  He muttered a curse and steered her in the direction of her bathroom.  He shoved her inside and quickly slid the door closed, but not before Annie saw the hulking shadow of another figure.  Annie could only think of one person whose shadow could dwarf Griffin. It was he last thought before her stomach heaved spilling its contents

.

An eternity later her faculties under control she slipped away from her porcelain devotions and heaved herself into the shower.  Her fumbling hands managed to work the knobs into the right position and she was rewarded with a steaming flow of water.  She lay in the tub relishing the warmth of the water.  Her head and stomach had declared a truce and left her feeling almost normal; drained but normal.  She struggled to her feet and reached blindly for her shampoo.

She scrubbed the parts of her that would allow her and gingerly cleansed the ones that protested.  Her knees and hands had absorbed the brunt of her fall.  They were scraped but the bleeding had long since stopped.  Her ribcage and sternum felt bruised but nothing hurt too badly even when she took a deep breath, which meant no broken bones.  Someone, or something, she thought with a slight wince had knocked her out of the way of a truck.  She closed her eyes and tried to recall the seconds after her fall.  She remembered the terrifying sensation of her lungs deflating, and the struggle to breathe that followed.  Then she must have passed out.  Someone had screamed her name and air had suddenly filled her lungs.  Then there was a face.  No, it wasn’t truly a face, there were animal features mingled with human ones.

She pressed a hand to her head as the other one fumbled to turn off the shower.  She stood still, shivering from the lack of heat as her mind tried to make sense of what her jumbled vision had shown her.  When her teeth began to chatter she forced her arms into her thick terry cloth robe.  She refused the ceremony of toweling herself dry.  She was cold, battered, bruised and sore and that was only her body.  Her mind convinced the rest of her that she was alert enough to get an answer to least one question before she would allow exhaustion to overtake her.

She threw open the bathroom door and marched, as proudly as her wobbly legs would take her, into her kitchen.  Her brain rapidly counted six bodies stuffed into her kitchen, but she only cared about one.  There was only one face, one voice she wanted to see and hear.  He held the truth.  Only he could tell her if everything was fantasy or reality.

She braced her hands on the door jamb and sucked in a deep calming breath before she asked the question that could change her life.  “Where is he?” she growled.  The harshness in her voice surprised even her.  She closed her eyes in an attempt to will her anger away.

When her eyes opened the group had parted to reveal the haggard looking figure of Duncan. His face looked pale and he cringed as she shot him a nasty glare.   One eye appeared puffy as if he had sustained a shot to it.  He looked as deflated as she felt.  For the briefest moment she considered throwing herself at him.  She could easily imagine wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder as she searched for the comfort she craved.  His arms would wrap around her and pull her onto his lap. He would hold her close, whispering soothing words into her hair as he gently stoked her back.  His lips would fall on her eyes, her cheeks and the soft hollow of her neck…

What the hell was wrong with her?

“No,” she ground out between clenched teeth.  Her eyes drifted open, the room threatened to spin again.  Through the force of will she halted the world from tilting.

Impressive
, the word whispered through her mind.  She shoved all this aside and focused.

“No,” she repeated.  “Not him.  Where is the –cat man?”

“Wag-by-the-way,” corrected a cheerful voice.  “Ye called?”

At first she saw nothing.  Just as she was ready to relax her eyes lowered and in front of her stood a squat cat-like man covered in gray fur.  Shit, Puss in Boots was real.  His feline features scrunched in concern as she felt her blood leave her face.  Her knees buckled and six bodies rushed towards her.  Her fingers dug into the door frame as she struggled to hold herself up.  She refused to lose consciousness again; it would only mean starting from scratch.  She took an unsteady step into the kitchen.  The Scottish sounding Puss in Boots shadowed her arms outstretched as if he meant to catch her if she fell.  She felt laughter well up inside her and become audible.  She clamped a hand over her mouth and forced the sound down.

“Out,” she growled.  “All of you but-“she pointed at Puss in Boots and the little person who hoovered nervously by her bedroom, “you two.”  When no one moved her chest expanded “OUT!” she bellowed.

Chairs scraped across the floor as three people scurried to obey the command.  Her friends she realized.  A bevy of emotions crossed their faces as they made their way past her.  Only Griffin paused.  He reached out a tentative hand, when she didn’t dodge the comfort he reached for her chin.  He tilted her face to meet his eyes where she saw nothing but concern.  Kat clutched at his other arm her eyes mirroring his, Robert stood silently behind them anger rolling off of him.

“You sure?”  He asked nodding his head in the direction of the three beings that still inhabited her house.  Annie nodded not trusting her voice.

A low growl emanating from the kitchen broke through the silence.  Griffin and Robert tensed threatening to jump in front of Annie, only Kat’s hands stayed their move and she ushered them out the door without another word.  The door closed softly behind them and Annie understood how Alice felt when she fell down the rabbit hole.

There was still one body she needed to extract from her house.  Her eyes couldn’t look at him.  She was afraid if she did her resolve would weaken and she would beg him to stay. 

She kept her eyes glued to the floor as she made her way to her bedroom.  “Duncan,” she said as she inhaled a shuddering breath.  “Get out.”  She stepped into her room and threw herself on the bed.  She buried herself under the covers and shoved a pillow over her head to drown out any protests he might voice.

By the grace of the powers that be sleep found her moments later.  Her sleep was not dreamless.  It was haunted by glowing eyes and the feeling that death was coming.

Chapter Twelve

Redcap Attacks

Dreams had tortured her while she slept.  The early morning sun streaming through her window had chased them away erasing the frightening images leaving her with only the awareness of having dreamt.  She struggled to free herself from the tangled sheets.  The belt from her robe was wrapped around her wrist and her hand felt cold.  She tried to free her hand but the belt seemed to wrap tighter around her.  Every time she moved to get a better grip her arm seemed to move further away.  Her wrist started to sting and burn.  She opened her swollen eyes and saw blood oozing out from her wrist.  She tried to scream but no sound came out.  Her eyes widened in terror as the belt shimmered then slowly morphed into a hand, with talon like fingers the color of rusted iron puncturing the delicate skin of her wrist.  The burning spread like fire racing through her body.

“Tis iron, he’s killing us,”
whispered a weakening voice in her head. 

Panic over took her.  She pulled her arm hard and heard and felt a loud pop as her shoulder separated from its socket.  Finally a scream of pain erupted from her throat.  She could hear frantic banging on her door.  Someone was trying to get in was it to save her or finish her off?

“Let me out!”
  Hissed the voice inside her. 
“Quickly before we both die.”

Her free hand struggled to find something, anything to use as a weapon.  The banging on the door had turned into rhythmic thumping as though someone was trying to break it down.  Her fingers closed around a small knife Griffin had given her, an athame he had called it, a letter opener she had called it.  Why such a ridiculous though came into her mind she had no idea.  She struggled to move her head, to make her eyes focus on her attacker.  What she saw was a demon.

  Its red eyes aflame bore into hers, a feral snarl stretched across its thin black lips that pulled across a jagged row of razor fang-like teeth.  The talon tipped hand was digging deeper into her arm, its other hand clenching a dry rust colored piece of cloth.  He began soaking up her dripping blood with the cloth, his black beak-like nose sniffing and snorting.

“Do it!”
the voice screamed in panic.

Without further thought her free arm was moving, her wrist flicking, her fingers extending pointing at their target as the athame flew from her hand.

She missed the mark she had been aiming for, its throat, hitting it in the shoulder instead.  The impact was enough to make it loose its grip.  In shock it staggered backwards and ripped the impaled object out of its shoulder.  The door to her room popped off its hinges as a torcher lamp wielded by three small people tumbled into her room.  Behind her the glass of her window shattered.  The shards of glass sucked outside as Duncan dove through the window.  He rolled, quickly coming to his feet and vaulting over her bed landing on his feet in front of the creature.  Realizing he was outnumbered the creature quickly vanished in a cloud of Sulphur and smoke. 

Duncan clutched a wicked looking sword thicker then both of her arms put together.  It gleamed in the sunlight and seemed to grumble in frustration.  Annie scrambled to her feet, trying to get as far away from the sword as possible.  It was whispering and cursing and scared her almost as much as the demon had.  She felt weak, her legs wobbled as she began to sway.  Her blood felt like it was on fire but she was suddenly very cold.  Her whole body began to shake violently.  She reached out for the bed but it seemed miles away.  She stumbled backwards, her back slamming against the wall as she lost control of her muscles.  Another violent tremor shook her body slamming her head against the wall.  White pricks of light engulfed her vision and her legs gave out on her as she dropped to the floor.  Her eyes stopped working but her ears continued to hear.

She heard the commotion all at once, three muffled voices and the scurrying of hands and feet, Duncan screaming her name, followed very quickly by three voices shouting, “NO!”

She felt weightless.  Suddenly all the pain was gone and in its place was the most wonderful, indescribable feeling.  A warm tingle danced its way down every nerve in her body.  Her skin was alive, and in ecstasy.  A soft groan escaped her throat as a warm delicious heat filled her.

“It always felt like this
,” the voice in her head purred.

She felt something soft on her back and then suddenly the pain was back and she was screaming.  Before the pain took her consciousness she heard the howl and barking of dozens of dogs.

Terror had gripped its icy fingers into his gut twisting hard until he woke.  Then he heard her scream and silence.  He was on his feet before he drew his next breath.  He reached out his hand and his fingers grasped the hilt of his sword.  He raced down the two flights of stairs cursing the fact he hadn’t secure living quarters on the ground floor; the extra time could cost him more than he cared to admit.  Why had he agreed to leave last night?

He burst out of his front door; and in three strides he was leaping over the silver fence that encircled Annie’s garden.  He could hear banging and Knackers barking out a rhythmic count, but he couldn’t hear her.  He skidded to a halt in front of a window extended his left hand muttered a few quick words as he yanked his arm back glass flew in shards around him as he dove through the window.  He tucked his body, his mind and reflexes working faster than thought.  He rolled to his feet and leapt over the bed as a sulfurous cloud of smoke dissipated.  His hand tightened on his sword as it threatened to leap out of his hand frustrated at arriving too late to taste the blood of an enemy.

Duncan whipped his head around looking for another target.  He saw three forms entangled on the floor one stacked on top of the other.  Knackers lay on the bottom cursing and groaning under the weight of the other two.  He recognized one round plump form as Fiona, the other was new but Duncan recognized it as a friendly, Annie’s mysterious Brownie.  Next to the mass of tangled flailing bodies lay a long heavy brass pole with a heavy marble base, a torch of some kind that they had used as a battering ram to break through the door.  Then he saw her.

A blood stained cloak barely hung to her shaking frame.  Her crystal blue eyes were filled with fear and panic staring not at him but at the sword clenched in his hands.  He grounded the sword, impaling it in the floor. He lifted his arms as if trying to soothe a skittish mare, words poised on his lips, they were never spoken and were quickly replaced by her name being shouted as he watched her body convulse and slam into the wall behind her. 

Without thought he raced around the bed and scooped her into his arms as voices shouted at him to stop.  He forgot about them, forgot about the curse he bore, forgot even the pain, the only thing he saw was Annie dying.  The Redcap had sunk his poisonous talons into her.  The mortal shell would survive but not the Sidhe trapped inside.  After last night he wasn’t sure one could survive without the other.  As much as he did not trust Caelia he had to err on the side of caution.

As his arms touched the soft bare skin of her legs his arms sizzled and exploded with pain.   The pain evaporated the instant he saw the angry puncture marked that marred the tender flesh on the inside of her wrist.  Black spider web like lines extended from her wound rapidly advancing up her arm towards her heart.  Her wounded arm hung at an odd angle a sure sign that her shoulder had been dislocated.  He adjusted his grip on her careful to guard her injured arm as he drew her closer to his chest.  Her cheek came to rest on his bare chest and a new wave of fiery pain erupted.  It was the sweetest pain he had ever felt.  He heard her groan in what he assumed to be pain as he quickly but carefully laid her back on her bed.  He released her gently and another convulsion erupted through her.  His chest heaved as his own pain returned.

              He glanced down at his bare chest and watched as a blister formed on the spot her cheek had rested.   A quick inspection of his arms revealed the same thing.  He could and would deal with his own pain in time.  The adrenaline coursing through him now would help to ease the pain, it was an afterthought and mild compared to the agony, that was raging through Annie’s’ body.  He reached out a hand towards Annie and was stopped as Fiona’s stout frame jumped in front of him.

“Ye’ve done enough,” she said firmly.  When her eyes met his, her stance softened slightly as she saw the pain reflected in his eyes.  Duncan clamped his lips together nodding mutely as he stepped away to give the Bean Tighe room to work.

Knackers’ voice drew Duncan’s attention as he beckoned him over to the other side of the bed.  His green cat eyes were fixed to a spot on the floor.  As Duncan rounded the bed another convulsion wracked Annie’s body her weak whimper squeezed the breath out of him almost bringing him to his knees.  He felt helpless as she lay thrashing on the bed moaning in agony battling against something he could not fight, something he could not save her from. 

He prayed to whoever would listen and begged to take her place, pleading for some way to help her.  Fiona was bent over Annie, whispering healing words in Gaelic in between prayers of her own.  Duncan fell to his knees and buried his face into Annie’s crumpled bed clothes.  He inhaled her sweet scent as tears pooled in his eyes.  He refused to let them escape; she wasn’t dead, not yet, not ever.  As long as he drew breath so would she.  A fierce determination settled over him.  His hands balled into fists as his head jerked off her bed.

“You will not leave!”  He screamed.

“Well,” said a breathless voice from the doorway.  “Looks like I’ve arrived just in time.

Everyone’s head whipped towards the sound.  In the doorway silhouetted by the morning light stood the imposing figure of Duncan’s wise woman.  Her kind face did little to mask the determination that sparkled behind her blue eyes her mouth held a knowing smile as she leaned heavily on her cane.  A muffled squeak preceded a popping sound as the Brownie that had lingered on the fringes of the room vanished from sight. 

“Brownies,” the wise woman muttered laughing.

A whimper drew her attention to the bed and the writhing form of Annie.  “Iron,” she said sure of her diagnosis.  “Fiona stays,” she ordered.  “You two,” she said pointing at Duncan and Knackers.  “Out; and take the weapons.”  Her tone had Knackers jumping into action, Duncan moved slower unwilling to leave Annie’s bedside.  The wise woman’s eyes moved to meet Duncan’s.  A gentle, caring look settled on her face as she placed a hand on his.  “You’ve done all you can for now Dark Warrior.”  She ran a soothing hand over his head and the tears he had fought threatened to leak out of his eyes again.  “Now,” she said her voice stiff as steel,” leave.”  Duncan watched through blurred vision and for a moment he saw the impressive strength and beauty of the Battle Crow.  He blinked rapidly trying to get a better view.  When his eyes cleared he saw only an aging woman with white hair and friendly blue eyes set in a kindly face.  She nodded towards the door and he scurried to do as she bid. 

             “The lass had an enchanted dirk,” Knackers said handing the weapon over to Duncan.

Duncan studied the double bladed knife.  It was a delicate weapon.  The hilt was decorated with a triquetra, the ancient Celtic symbol which represented the three faces of the goddess, it was made of silver and lay against a sea of mother-of-pearl.  A large piece of tumbled obsidian grounded one end with flecks of green tourmaline surrounding it in a ring.  The blade was slender, sharp and tapered on both ends to a fine sharp point.  The metal was tarnished, blackened with dried liquid.  Duncan raised the blade to his nose cautiously inhaling the metallic scent.

“Redcap,” he spat rubbing the offensive smell from his nose with the back of his hand.

“Aye,” agreed Knackers his gray mustache twitching.  A hairy soot covered hand scratching his goatee as he sat lost in thought.  “Anything else?”

Duncan squinted at the dainty dirk in his hand. His blue gray eyes studied the blade searching for more.  The blade leapt out of his hands clanging as it hit the pine table beneath them.  “It’s spelled,” Duncan hissed as he jumped back from the table knocking over a chair in the process.  The blade continued to spin on the smooth surface of the pine table before it slowly came to rest pointing out the kitchen window.