Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins Page 17

  “It's me,” I said, and she released her grip.

  I could smell the beast and I knew it was still in the room. I had no light to see by, but I could feel wetness, warm and sticky, on Sneachta's fur. She was injured.

  “Help!” I screamed through my cries, “Please, Greer, help!”

  I picked her up and could feel her heart beating quickly. My mother was pounding on the door trying to get in, and screaming for me to let her in. Her cries were overpowered by the sound of the demon moving around the room, its feet making clanking sounds on the floor as it encircled us. It was knocking things over and throwing my trinkets at us as I kept throwing herbs in any direction that I heard noise.

  Then, within an instant, the smell was gone and the creature had left. The candles burned again and the bedroom door flung open.

  In the light, I could see that Sneachta was badly cut, but still alive. My mother pulled her from me and went to dress her wounds. The red blood stood out clearly against her white fur. I wanted nothing more than to tend to Sneachta, but felt drawn to the window. I nearly fainted at the sight that I beheld.

  There stood Lamont, walking back into the woods that surrounded my yard. His long black coat stood out against the fresh snow, making him appear to be a dark shadow. He turned for a moment and looked back at my window, as though he could sense me there, but I retreated and he did not see me. Then, within a second, he disappeared. He left not even a footprint in the snow behind him.

  ********************

  Sneachta had sustained horrible wounds but my mother insisted that she would be fine. I held her while my mother cleaned and dressed the injuries. She tried to bat me with her paws a few times, but she never tried to bite.

  We placed her in the sitting room on my father's chair and my mother handed me a potion to sprinkle at each doorway and window, while she lit candles and started to cast spells.

  I heard the back door open and found Greer standing in the doorway. His dark coat covered in snow, and his eyes intensely held upon me.

  “Are you alright?” he asked in a whisper. He looked rather shaken up.

  “Aye,” I replied, but I was not okay. I was terror-stricken.

  He rushed in and slammed the door shut behind him. I lunged forward and sealed the door with salt. He held my face in his hands and seemed to be searching my thoughts. “You are not well. Did it hurt you?” his voice was frantic.

  “No . . . well, it clawed my arm, but Sneachta was the one who was badly wounded,” as the words came out, I heard my voice crack. I would be lost without my Sneachta and if she died, it was to save me. I could not live with that thought.

  Greer pulled me into a hug and stroked my hair, “Hush my love, she is a resilient cat. I am sure she will be fine.”

  As much as I wanted to be strong, I felt my body betraying me. I was weeping into his chest. I could not lose her. She was so loyal. She never thought of herself and always looked to protect me. Yet, I had failed to protect her.

  Greer held my right arm to the candlelight. There was a short, but very deep, claw mark that ripped through my skin and it was still bleeding. I had not even realized the severity of the wound until now.

  “You need to clean this and wrap it well,” his eyes were turning dark and his breathing was shaky.

  He moved my wrist from his sight and stepped away from me.

  “Lamont was here,” my mother said to Greer as she washed Sneachta's blood off her hands. I showed my mother my injury and she tended to it immediately.

  Greer moved me into the sitting room so I could be next to Sneachta. She was sleeping now, and did not seem to be in pain.

  “I know. I heard Aislin's cry for help and I came as fast as I could, but I knew that I would never reach her in time to fight off the demon. I realized my best hope was to confound his mind, making him think that he was attacking a diversion and that the real Aislin was somewhere else. It took a great amount of effort to persuade him that he was under a spell, and that he had the wrong person. His mind was fixed upon her so strongly that I had just about given up and was about to enter her room when I finally convinced him that she was not in the house . . . that she was hidden in another home across town and then he fled into the forest,” Greer said.

  “How did you convince him of such things?” my mother sounded suspicious.

  Greer let me cling to his side as he answered my mothers numerous questions. I just wanted her to leave us alone for a while, but she was persistent.

  “It is a gift that I possess. I can speak to people in their minds and convince them to do things.” He did not sound proud of his power. He sounded to be more ashamed of it.

  “How can you do that without making contact,” she was squinting her eyes at him as she stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the doorway.

  “Enough!” I screamed at her, “He is not responsible for this. So either trust him or suspect him, but cease your interrogation.”

  She gave me a look of disapproval, but realized that I was right. She was not helping. Greer had saved us, again, and although she could not explain it, that did not make it any less the truth.

  “Where did you send him?” my mother asked.

  “I gave him a vision of a dark colored house on the outskirts of town. The house does not exist, so he should be searching all night. With any luck he will leave Burlington on a quest to find this house that holds Aislin.”

  “I doubt it,” my mother sighed, “But I think it was a valiant effort on your part.” She looked down at Sneachta, “She cannot stay here tonight,” she said without looking up.

  Greer and I looked at each other.

  “Mother, she is too weak to be outside,” I said in an alarmed tone.

  Greer, held back a smile and looked down at me, his expression softening as he tapped the tip of my nose with his finger. “She meant you, my love.”

  My mother nodded her head in agreement, “You must leave Aislin. I have a feeling that they will be back. You are not safe.”

  “I cannot leave Sneachta!” I protested, “Greer just told you that he sent Lamont away. I need to be here for her”

  “You have no choice. She is too injured to move and you must leave!”

  “What about you? Will you be safe?” I asked in a faltering voice.

  “He is not after me. I will be fine.” She caught me staring at my pet again, “Aislin I promise that she will be fine too. Now you must leave or Sneachta will have been injured for nothing.”

  I reluctantly agreed and ran to my room and grabbed all that I would need. I placed all my things in a pillowcase and clamored down the stairs.

  Sneachta was sleeping in a basket and Greer was waiting for me.

  “Where will I go?” I asked in panic.

  “You will stay with Greer and come back after the sun rises. Your father is not to know of this,” she said as she hugged me.

  “Mother, should we stay with you until father returns? I do not want you being alone.”

  “No,” she said turning me toward Greer, “You must leave right now.” She looked at Greer, “Do not let her fight you and do not let her out of your sight. I swear on my family, if you hurt her I will place such a curse on you that you will rue the day you stepped foot in Burlington,” she said, through squinted eyes.

  Greer held me close to him and within an instant I was carried off and the world was a blur, but I was safe in his arms.

  ********************

  Greer took me to a small room that was sparsely decorated, but clean and safe. There was a bed pushed into one corner and a small table next to it. On the far end of the room, there was a place to wash, a small window and a single chair was placed by it.

  “It is not much I'm afraid.” He placed my pillowcase on the bed.

  I sat on the mattress and dumped belongings upon it.

  “It is fine . . . I am just happy to be with you,” I insisted.

  I placed my book under the pillow, and then I took the herbs I carri
ed and started placing protection barriers around the room.

  “Would you like to change into you night clothes?” he asked.

  I realized how late it was, and my body seemed to realize how strongly this evening's ordeal had affected me. I was tired and I felt weak. I nodded and he went to leave the room.

  “Wait,” I said in haste. I did not know how to ask for his help with such things, but I could not get out of my stay on my own.

  “What is it?”

  His hand was on the doorknob and he looked confused by my stopping him from exiting. I was looking down at my fingers now and felt color flooding my cheeks.

  “It's nothing,” I mumbled.

  My hands drifted to my back where I tried to pull at the lacing of my stay, but it was useless. I needed help.

  He seemed amused by my embarrassment, and I started to question if he already knew what I needed of him.

  “If it was nothing then you would not have stopped me from leaving,” he smirked.

  “You are going to make me ask this aren't you?” I said is frustration.

  A smile spread across his face, “Yes, I believe I am.”

  I dropped my face into my hands. This was too embarrassing for words. “Would you please help me . . . get my stay off,” I mumbled under my breath.

  My cheeks were crimson now.

  “You realize that your gown must come off first?” he said through a wicked smile.

  I looked down at my dress and realized, to my further embarrassment, that he was right—as though this was some great mystery that I did not know of.

  “Turn around,” I insisted, as I pulled the gown over my head. Then I held it over the front of me. “You can help me now,” I said quietly.

  Within an instant, he stood behind me and slowly unlaced the back of my stay.

  “In Europe they call this a corset,” he said, as he took his time unlacing it.

  We both knew that he could have taken it off me within seconds, but he was plucking at it lace by lace, letting his fingers run down my increasingly bare back.

  Then, just as the last of the lacing was almost undone, he kissed the base of my neck. I shivered from his kiss and spun around to return it but he had left the room, locking the door behind him.

  ********************

  I could hear the sound of people laughing and music playing in the tavern below. A fiddler was playing a rapid jig as people clapped along, and perhaps some were dancing. I could hear rhythmic stomping of people in revelry. It was an odd thought that I had probably passed all of them on my way to this room, yet they had not seen me and I had not seem them. It made me feel like a ghost. I wondered if that was how Greer always felt.

  I went and sat on the bed. I could think of nothing but Sneachta, and wondered if she was all right. I felt tears fall upon my face and I quickly wiped them away. I held my book between my hands as though the magic within it somehow connected me to my beloved pet. It made no sense, but it made me feel more secure.

  Greer came back into the room carrying a tray and a pitcher of cider. The tray was overlapping with different kinds of meats, breads, and roots.

  “I thought you might be hungry.” He placed the tray onto the bed and looked down nervously at the food, as though the contents of the platter may not be suitable for me.

  “Thank you,” I said, as I picked at the potatoes, but my appetite was not there.

  He watched intently as I tried to make myself eat, and I felt all the more self-conscious as his eyes never waivered from me.

  “Sneachta will be fine . . . I would know if she was going to die,” he said hesitantly.

  “How?” I asked, taken by surprise at his comment.

  Greer looked at me as he placed a piece of bread to my lips, “I can sense when animals, and people for that matter, are near the end of their lives.”

  “You have the gift of sight?”

  “No. I have the instincts of a predator. In the wild, stronger animals prey of the weaker ones. I am no different,” he said bitterly.

  “You should not be ashamed of what you are,” I said, while reaching for his hand.

  “You do not know what I have become. You have not seen me hunt . . . or kill.” He stood up and walked toward the window.

  I ate as much as I could, but my appetite was nonexistent. He took the tray from the bed and placed it outside the door. “At least tonight it will appear to the maids that I have eaten,” he smiled. He moved to sit on the bed next to me.

  “She could have died trying to save me,” I said.

  “Would you not have done the same to protect her?”

  He stretched out my injured arm and secured the bandages that my mother had wrapped around it.

  “Yes, I would have done anything to save her . . . but it does not make it any easier,” I sighed, as I watched him.

  “On the brighter side of things, you and I get to spend time alone together,” he said, as he brushed my cheek with the back of his hand.

  “That is nice,” I replied as we moved in to kiss each other.

  His kisses were gentle upon my skin. He handled me with great care, as though he never wanted to hurt me. He ran his hand down my back while he placed the other at the back of my neck, under my hair.

  “I love you,” he whispered in my ear.

  I felt everything spinning around me and I trembled as his lips met mine. He supported my weight as I went limp in his arms. Nothing could feel more perfect then being close to him. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around his neck, letting my hands run through his hair as he kissed me.

  Slowly, I opened my eyes and stared into his as we backed away from our kiss. His hand was still behind my neck but something had changed. His muscles had tensed, a low growl was emanating from him and I watched as the black center of his eyes spread and overtook the beautiful hazel coloration.

  At first, I thought of my vision, of when I had died in his arms. I tried to turn around and look behind me in fear that Lamont was in the room, but Greer’s grip was so strong that I could not move. It did not matter though. He was not growling at anyone but me. His dark gaze was focused upon my lips. I instinctually touched my tongue to my lower lip and tasted blood. My lip must have split open form the cold weather as we traveled through the night. I thought, as I tried to move back, out of his grasp, but I could not move at all.

  “Greer, please let go,” I said softly, as I tried to push against his shoulders to put room between us.

  His grip did not waver, but I saw his eyes flicker. “Please, Greer, you must let me go. Please!” I begged.

  He leaned into me, holding my head very still with his hand. He seemed to be moving to kiss me again, but his lips only touched mine briefly, as he licked the blood off my lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

  I felt his breath on my skin and I heard my heart pounding. He did too. He stroked at my neck with his nose and his lips dragged against my skin. I felt dizzy, and it was difficult to keep my senses. He pulled me closer still, his lips now resting softly on the side of my neck. I could feel the tips of his sharp fangs barely grazing my skin as his senses drew him to my pounding vein. I fought against him once more, but he overpowered me without even trying.

  “Greer, I love you,” I whimpered.

  At my words, he lifted his attention from my neck and my throbbing pulse, as though he was jarred out of a trance. He stared into my eyes and I saw coloration return to his for a brief moment.

  “Run, Aislin,” he said in a gruff voice. I felt his grip diminish and I fell to the ground. I went to run for the door but stopped. I could not. I backed myself into the far corner of the room near the door and tucked my knees into my chest.

  “Run,” he screamed at me.

  His voice boomed in my ears and I slammed my hands over them.

  “I cannot,” I said, while shaking my head, “You will just chase me . . . I cannot outrun you. You must fight this Greer.”

  “Aislin, you have to leave right now!” he y
elled. He was clinging onto the bed, his knuckles white and his body shaking.

  “Where would I go? I am hunted remember? I cannot leave.” I wanted my voice to sound strong, to mask the anxiety that I felt, but it was shaky and high-pitched. In turn, it frightened me even more.

  He pressed himself far into the opposite corner of the room. He was staring at me with fear in his eyes, and I could see that he was waging a war against himself. Two parts of his being were fighting for control. I have to help him overcome this… but how?

  “Tell me about the day you met me,” I asked quietly.

  “At the port? You know of that,” he growled at me impatiently.

  “No, the day you met me over two hundred years ago,” I flinched.

  He started rubbing his eyes as though straining to remember. His breath was still accelerated and his hands still trembling, “I was out hunting in the fields by my home. My mother's family had come to visit from Spain, and my cousins and I were hunting for the dinner we would have that night. I came upon you while you were picking flowers,” a smiled started to come to his lips although his eyes were still as dark as night. “It was forbidden for the locals to come onto my family's property, but there you were . . . your hair blowing behind you in the wind, your arms filled with purple and yellow flowers. I was supposed to tell you to get off my property, but I could not. When I gazed upon you, it was as though I had never seen anything before in my whole life . . . as though I had been walking around blinded to all that surrounded me. When our eyes met, you dropped all your flowers. It was then that I knew you were experiencing the same thing that I was. We were inseparable from that day on.”

  His eyes had regained all their coloration and his expression was of one who had just awoken from a dream. He looked at me and gasped.

  “Oh, Aislin, what have I done?” he said with a tone of anguish.

  “You did not hurt me,” I reassured him.

  I stood slowly and walked over to where he was, pressed hard against the corner of the room. His face was hidden in his hands. I sat down beside him and pulled his hands from his face.