Chapter 14
“How the fuck did you find me?”
It’s a voice I would recognize anywhere.
“You brought in a lizard.” I can feel his arms scooping me up. “You’re lucky it didn’t finish you off if I hadn’t found you and killed it.”
There’s a ringing in my ear, a taste of salt and blood in my mouth, and I have a beating headache pounding through my head. Sand is entangled in my fingertips, matted in my hair, and my clothes are soaked.
“Damn you for practically killing yourself.”
My lips release a small groan as he tugs me closer to his chest. The whiff of jasmine and spice or simply—him spreads over me like a wave. Breathing in the scent, I relish over its sweetness.
“Stupid girl,” he grumbles, tightening his hold on me.
Now that makes me angry. Whatever it was, it was so not my fault. I tighten my fist in his shirt beating what I can against him. It makes no difference since my hands are badly bruised and his hard-chest is plumped with thick muscle. James says nothing to my attempts, but rather ignores the fact that I am attempting at all to make a pathetic difference.
In the surrounding background I can hear the calming swish and crash of waves brushing up against land. In actuality, as the ringing in my ears slowly abates, the entire premise is soaking up the tranquil waves. There’s the smell of heavy-sea salt; the warmth of the sun burning away the jittering goose bumps beneath my clothes, and against my skin the wind’s gentle bristles brushes against me like the outside of a rose.
James walks up the shoreline with me tightly knitted in his arms. Slowly turning my head away from his chest, I peel my eye lids open to catch a glimpse of a small cottage up ahead. Its dandy—if that’s the word for it and small, but a quant Irish shoreline cottage. It’s built out of washed out creamy stone, toppled with hay molded and dampened down so securely weaved together, and a wooden door run down by the natural course of time. There are even two small windows on each side decorated with small flower pots.
Quant, very quant.
“Where am I?” The words slip through my lips so quietly, too gently that even my own ears can’t hear what I’m saying.
James places a massive hand on the aged door handle, pushes, and we enter inside. The hinges squeak in a high pitched moan, causing my body to cringe against the noise. His boots clamp down on wooden floorboards and behind him the door creaks groaning all the way before shutting closed in a sigh of relief.
It’s a small room accompanied with simple table and chairs set in the middle, a tiny fireplace on the far right wall, and an antique aged rustic oven drooping adjacently on the opposite wall. There’s a lamp in a corner and as I peer up a ceiling fan rotates its cycling, but it looks like in mere moments it’s going to fall down completely. James makes no time to stop, but glides over to the far wall where a single door occupies next to the oven.
It’s a tiny squared off bedroom, walls warn down, attired with a divided fixed window. I scan around the room, quickly gathering the surroundings as best as I can under my heavy lidded eyelids. It’s furnished with double sized bed and a wardrobe cabinet positioned in a corner next to the bed. Aside from the basics, there are no crook and crannies to give any indication of who might live here. No personal items to entail any sort of human existence. There are no pictures of any kind of family, objects for an inkling of decoration, and it’s absolutely the kind of room one would find abandoned.
James places me gently on the bed when a sudden wave of nausea sweeps over me. My breath releases a slight moan and I roll over in bed digging my head further into the pillows. The clinking of James’s boots turns towards the door and moments later I hear the click of his exit; before my eyes give out to the overwhelming exhaustion that inundates my body completely.
Many times during the night, I’m sure to feel that my body had been awoken. All in a daze it feels like a panic rushing over me only making me more tiresome than before I fell asleep. But those few times never last and I just feel my body disarming itself back into the comfort of my pillow. However, I could have sworn that one or two times there had been a figure near my bedside, but then again, my befogged brain doesn’t give two shit’s and I went right back under.
With no enthralling dreams, I finally feel myself back coming up while my brain washes away the unconsciousness sleep state. My eye lids peel open as I stretch out on the bed feeling the utter sensation of my muscles warming back up.
Everything that happened last night, the lizards attacking, me slipping through something and ending up in the middle of nowhere, it all had never happened. And that’s exactly why I’m back up in my room nicely tucked in my king sized bed with my outrageous amount of pillows and blank—
The smell of the room is different. It’s musky and humid with salt and sand tangling in all the aromas together. Instantly I sit up in a frenzy. I’m lying half naked entangled in plain creamy colored bed sheets. Last night’s original clothes have been removed from my body and now I’m in an overly large much too big black t-shirt. The room that I thought I hadn’t been carried in last night I’m in right now.
I start to panic.
How did I get here? When did I get here? How did I end up in this particular t-shirt? This isn’t Troy’s and last night James—and then it all suddenly comes back to me; flooding through my head like a really bad nightmare. I had been speaking with Ian when there was a demon lizard attack. I had escaped through the woods and then somewhere I had fallen slipping through something to end up in the middle of nowhere with…
James.
In a state of terror and alarm, I boost myself off the bed and scurry to look out the window. I stand on my tippy-toes barely managing to find myself exactly where I remembered from night last; on a beach in the middle of an ocean.
Hastily I rush to the bed flinging the sheets trying to dig up my lost cell phone. I toss the pillows over my head, take off the bed comforter, and flap the sheets out. Nothing. Absolutely empty. I peer under the bed and my frustration grows to only find floorboards and a few cobwebs. The bedside table is small with a single drawer. I plunge through the contents which, to my dismay, there aren’t any. Turning my head I remember the wardrobe. Flinging the double doors open my heart sinks to find minimal pieces of clothing, jeans, a few t-shirts, but nothing of the sorts of a lost cell phone or even my clothes.
Slamming it shut, I look about the room one last time then deciding to discard any chance that my cell phone would be in here. Rushing out the room, I immediately take an abrupt halt. There, lying on the table are all my lost belongings: shirt, shorts, shoes, my cell phone, and even my…pink poke-a-dotted bra. Well I’m sure am thankful not to find the bra’s matching partner.
But that’s not what slams me to a stop so suddenly.
The beauty of the moon’s rays illumes an ethereal aura of white illumination through one of the tiny windows. It etches into his bronze skin hyphening those dark lines of harsh, forbidding, and complete control. Underneath his thick lashes, those violet eyes are emphasized by the ghostly touch of the midnight’s sun. Beholding within them is the vacant transparency of once a pain that cursed a changed man. But it all quickly changes back into his impassive demeanor of complete control.
James’s stature is squared off by thick shoulders, arms crossed, and legs spread out about a foot apart. He says nothing when the door opens and bangs into the badly wilted stove behind it. In fact, not a single muscle contracts in any part of his body.
From the previous times James has well…encountered with me he emits the same focused energy as he is now. Convergence, control, raw rage of sexuality that spews between—well maybe it’s just me. He’s all man in his dark shaded jeans and black top that appears to be customized by top designers. A throng is laced behind his charcoal black hair and resting with a bundle of small curls on his nap. Tall, lean, masked in muscle—simply he standing there is riveting.
I shake my head. Stupidity. Focus.
He speaks first. “I see that you have awakened.”
“Obviously,” I spit focusing my anger on the fact that in the middle of the night I have been stripped, cleaned, and groomed with even me being conscience.
James remains quiet.
Tip toeing to the table, I rummage through my belongings before finally finding my iphone in my jeans pocket. “How did my things end up here?” I ask checking through my unread text messages. Most are from Troy from last night that I never got around to reading, one or two are from Poppy that are nothing less but random, and zero missed calls.
Damn, no service either.
There goes my plan of escape and rescue.
“They needed to be washed,” he notes quite too simply.
“How dare you!” I shout.
He turns in one steady move. “Excuse me?” His tone is mutual, light even.
I steady my focus and anger directly on him.
“You stripped me of my clothes in my sleep? Who are you? Some creep wanting to take an advantage of a girl?!”
Those thick brows sink inward and his eyes cut into me like slits. “Clearly you have missed interpreted what I’ve just told you. I went from, doing you a favor; too I am suddenly a pedophile. That, of which, given by your information I wanted inside your pants.” The look on his face doesn’t at all look the least bit humored.
Okay, so the way he says it makes me look like I’m the accuser. “Fine. Then tell me how hell did I end up in one of your t-shirts?”
His dark stoical gaze rakes over me entirely. And somehow I feel more naked than I’ve ever felt in my life. He is assessing me in slow analytical progression that’s tinged with sexual aspiration. When he addresses his eyes back upward they stand firm locking into mine. This inevitably causes every intake of air I take to freeze in mid-breath. Especially when embedded in those eyes are painted gems of a vivacious violet.
The color alone unnerves me.
“A female had tended to your needs.” Short and cuts straight to the point.
“Who?”
He casts me a look of indifference before turning around and exiting out the front door.
“Wait!” I call out. “Where are you going? You didn’t answer my question!” Instinctively I rush out after him.
The moment my feet touch the soft cool sand of the beach, I’m abruptly am struck. Similar to the painting Cole had shown me the Otherworld’s moons are just as he described. The first one sits promptly on the horizon so large and massive it’s as if you can reach out and touch it. Resting perpendicularly is its smaller twin. Both radiate a cool luminosity that stars the ocean in the darkened night.
James is out by the shoreline. I trudge my way over meeting him at his side. “How did I get here? And where are we?”
“You had fallen through a portal.”
“A portal?” My brows crunch together. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
He shakes his head. “No, but it’s a way to access between the two realms, the Otherworld and the human world.”
I sigh, annoyed how naïve I am. “Do you know what attacked me?”
“It was a type of demon called lizard. They harm their victim by squealing in highly pitched tones then butcher them alive.”
That alone makes my skin crawl. And come to think of it that thing almost caught me. “Where are we?”
James sideward glance me. “Aren’t you the question girl tonight?”
I point a finger at him looking at him hard. “Less than twenty-four hours ago I was attacked by demon giant lizards, fallen into a portal that I had no idea existed, and woken up in the middle of nowhere with a man who seems to know a lot about me. Apparently, I am a part of some prophecy that’s either dooming me to destroy the world or save it. I have abilities that I have no idea how to use and all of my friends have lied and betrayed me about whom and what exactly I am. Do not give me lip about how many questions I can ask. I think I have every god damn right to know exactly what the hell is going on.” I’m breathing hard, looking at James firmly.
For long moments the only thing breaking the silence is the ocean gently pressing against the rocks of the shoreline. James appears to be nonchalant without a trace of emotion etching within those lines of his face.
“Where am I?” I ask, cutting into the awkward stillness.
He gives me a look before responding. “You’re on an uncharted island in the Otherworld.”
“How can I get back home?”
“You can’t.”
My jaw drops. “What? Why not? I need to get back!”
Massive shoulders shrug a rolling in a singular motion that somehow drives me nuts. “The portal you came through had been one way only. You can’t go back the way you came. You’re stuck here with me.”
I stand in front of him hoping that maybe he’ll look at me and speak. “Excuse me, but no thank you. I hardly know you and aside from that I need to get home. This—this is a place in the middle of an ocean.”
“And you’ll be safe.” James sounds certain, but still neglects to look at me directly.
I shout, “But that’s not the point!” I beat on finger on his chest. “You need to get me home, James Deveron. Whoever you are and however I know you get me home and get me home soon!”
Finally he casts his eyes down on me with an expression of ascendancy. “You’re staying.”
I keep my voice firm. “No I am not.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
James looks away gazing out into the open ocean.
“You can’t be serious.”
Silence.
James bends down and picks up a large flat stone from the ground. He tosses it, sending it skipping over the slight waves of the ocean.
Anger welds up within me. “I’m not staying here.” I protest, folding my arms.
Stillness surrounds him as he continues to stand in silence. He looks absolutely—frightening. The tip of my head meets in the middle of his chest.
“Get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”
“And what makes you think I am going to listen to you? I feel perfectly fine, thank you,” I chirp.
James, then without hesitation, tosses me over his massive shoulders and hauls me back kicking and screaming.
“Put me down!”
We are in the house now and he moves through it and into the bedroom. Tossing me on the bed, he turns, and before shutting the door he says, “You’re staying.”
“No I’m no—”
The door slams shut.
I’m being left alone in a sheltered small room where the only kind of light is coming from the moon’s illumination through a tiny window near the bed.
That bastard. How dare he?
***
“Damn it!” I pound my first on the desk.
My men: Cole, a half sobered Ian and Toro have all come to meet in my office. They stand around me, faces tight with shades of fortitude. There’s the exception of Ian who brought in a small bottle of rum and a box of cigarettes. Both had been dispersed by Cole who has a prevalent determination to wean his brother off the addiction of alcohol. And he even has high attempts to succumb Ian to break the habit of smoking. It’s a long road to salvation, Toro and I had warned him.
We’ve been discussing the disappearance of Avala and the possibilities of where she is. Ian, who at the time was semi intoxicated with a few drops of alcohol, had been in charge of her and can’t remember exactly which direction Avala had ran off to.
“You blubbering idiot! Think!”
Lazily he leans his body against a wall; thumbs tucked in his jeans pocket, and with eyes wilted with deprivation from the lack of sleep. Marked on his bronzed skin are a handful of deep cuts crusted over in dry blood.
“Ah lad, don’t get your feathers in a fuss. I had been protectin’ the wee lover of yours.”
“You shouldn’t have been drinking,” I bark with a tight lace of anger and frustration.
Toro speaks out. “Troy,” his intonation is calm. “If Ian hadn’t fought off the numbers he did, Avala could have been dead. Considering the circumstances, he’d done well.”
“He was outnumbered by twenty lizards,” Cole speaks out for the first time. “I’m surprised he was able kill as many as he had.”
“Ouch! Little brother, how can you underestimate me?” Ian, however, doesn’t look the least bit distressed.
Cole’s expression falls. “Because you neglect the idea of keeping yourself sober.”
Ian rolls his shoulders.
“God damn, Ian. You can manage to kill twenty lizards—”
“Nineteen.”
I growl. “Nineteen, but you can’t simply glance which direction Avala had gone?”
Dragging a hand through his hair, Ian inwardly releases a heavy sigh. “For the fifth time now the damn lizards are bastards to kill. While I was killing them off I hadn’t seen which direction she went.”
Once again I pound a fist on the desk. Avala’s missing; lizards had somehow broken through my defenses, and rumors are spreading about the hybrid which inevitably causing the Otherworld to be on edge. Outbreaks, killings, and secrets are beginning to build. It’s happening all over again.
“Years of careful planning and keeping Avala—”
“Dumb and stupid.”
Each of us cuts Ian a cold look.
“Look, you should have trained her and then maybe we all wouldn’t be in this mess.”
There’s a long pause as I carefully turn my head back to Toro and Cole to continue. “It had been agreed to keep Avala naïve to the knowledge of the Otherworld, in hopes to have her live out a normal human lifestyle.”
Toro shakes his head. “Ah lad, no matter what kind of life you attempt her with it’s not going to matter in the end. She is destined to be what she is prophesized to become.”
“Fate: nastiest bitch I ever met,” Ian yawns.
Cole turns around and snaps, “Either take this seriously or get out.”
The tiresome Ian raises a brow and a silent dispute converges in between the open space of the two brothers. An entire conversation flourishes. Things that are unsaid are read in their expressions. A bittersweet hatred of good o’ brotherly love is the only thing keeping these two from ripping each other’s throats out.
Eventually the other surrenders. Ian unfolds himself away from the wall and goes to stand, arms folded with an expression still indolent, next to Toro.
“Glad you can join us,” I remark.
“There’s nothing like a good o’ ___ to bright my spirits.”
“The map,” Cole points his finger to a marker on the outlaid map of the property. “There are three trails and each and the end of them has a vast amount of forest surrounding them. She had taken the route that leads to the greenhouse.” He moves hi finger along the line. “Inside there is a north entrance. Ian had mentioned that he was on the northern side while she had been on the south. If she had escaped she must’ve ran through the uncharted forest.”
I follow his hands as they make their way around the map. “Eventually, my defenses end—”
“With her abilities she wouldn’t know what she had done to get past them,” Toro’s brows shrug inward.
“If that’s the case then—”
The three of us emerge into a detailed conversation. Each of us point out the flaws, strengths, and possibilities of a different circumstance to pinpoint exactly where Avala suddenly went missing. Cole and Toro conclude that since there had been twenty lizards, one must’ve taken Avala somewhere through the woods. I’m certain that the case may be that she could have found another one of my trails, hoping that it would lead her back here. Ian’s confidence that there had only been twenty lizards, and he’d killed nineteen, still leaves the possibility that a lizard escaped.
The feud of the ramifications drags on.
“Ah! Isn’t obvious?” Ian chides with a smug expression.
In unison three sets of eyes lay heavily on him, daring, practically taunting him to continue.
“She ran through a pothole.” The confidence level in his voice irritates me indefinitely. “If she is nowhere to be found anywhere inside these woods,” he points to the area of untouched forest lands. “And if she got passed your defenses then she would have still been in the human realm. But since I checked,” he narrows his eyes. “thoroughly, then the only conclusion is that she ran into a pothole.”
“There are no potholes inside these woods. These are my lands.”
“Twenty-first century, lad. When was the last time you were here?”
I can feel my brows drawling inward. He’s right. My defenses haven’t been monitored in the past hundred or so years. Defensive magic can weaken without the proper care and nutrients to obtain its full strength. Potholes amongst a few other kinks can slip through a defense—that is not only with time but with someone meddling.
Potholes are unpredictable. They are a half ass job of a one way, unwanted portal to the Otherworld. They are dangerous and can be deadly since most potholes lead to vast areas that inhabit demon nests. Once a pothole is used it morphs or enfolds within itself leaving only a very thin dust behind of its contents.
There is no way of telling where Avala could have gone. A pothole’s predictability is that of a lottery game—the house always wins.
My fist pounds on the desk. “She can be anywhere.” Malice is turning within my voice as more anger and frustration interrogates me to no end.
“If Ian saying is accurate then we can look for its remains.” Toro chides in, his deep voice is full of positive reinforcement.
Ian exhales a long yawn. “Been there and done that. If you are thinking she could have left you a clue, don’t waste your time.”
Cole examines the spread out map. “If we can contact the guardian’s we can send out a search party to hunt and destroy any unwanted potholes.
“Aye,” agrees Toro. “Best of luck not to have any more accidents that way. We don’t need any more members of our team being tossed into the unknown.”
I turn to face Ian. “Are you sure there were only twenty lizards?”
“Yes because that’s what I do when I kill demons.” The expression on his face abruptly takes a fall. “I skip and count merrily of how many heads I sliced.”
“Ian,” Cole hisses giving him a cutting edge look.
“Twenty.”
“Can you be sure?”
He almost looks insulted, lazily insulted if anything.
“Alright,” I say after evaluating him. “I’ll take your word for it. Now,” I begin facing my men. “Dean hasn’t returned from one of the guardian bases. Nor have I heard word from him.”
“Aye, those guardians are known for their confidentiality.”
Peering into view from the outside of my office, I notice someone approaching. Stopping in mid-thought, I turn, and step through Cole and Toro. Taking his last few steps; Dean makes his way closer looking more tiresome than ever before. In the past week he’s lost more weight in his midsection than from the last I’ve seen him. His skin hangs loose from his bones as his age reflects from the lines and wrinkles in his skin. Hanging around the edges of his eyes is certain probability of long hours taking their toll.
“And the old man himself returns.”
Dean opens a door walking in with a sad smile. “Don’t,” he begins raising a palm before anyone else can speak. “I am well aware of Avala’s disappearance.”
“How did—”
Behind him, Dean shuts the door and what truly is, turns into a disguise of truly what isn’t. And once again to the naked eye my office is seen as unseen.
Dean exhales a cough. “I had secured a tracer on the back of Avala’s neck. It’s a promo but so far it’s been manageable.”
“Those half breeds using their human intelligence.” Ian’s voice sounds as if he’s praising a group of five year olds finally learning how to spell their name correctly.
Cole elbows his brother.
Inside my heart’s racing. On the outside I’m keep a tight composure. “They know her location.”
That sad smile droops into a frown. “Our guesses are is that Avala had slipped through a pothole and the tracker—”
“Promo,” Ian corrects.
Dean seems unfazed. “The tracker, unfortunately, must’ve been destroyed.”
“Aye,” says Cole. “Our guesses are as good as yours. We are certain Avala had fallen through a portal.”
With a heavy sigh, Dean makes around into an armchair. “I was hoping you had better news.”
I ask, “When did you return?”
“My departure was an hour ago. I asked to be returned to inform you of what the guardian’s plans are and give you the necessary information that they have on Avala.”
Ian mutters under his breath, “Damn guardians and their confidentiality.”
“What else do they know?”
Dean inhales deeply and then releases a heavy cough. In his pocket he tugs out a tissue, clears his mouth, and replaces it back. For weeks now something has been taking toll on Dean’s body which is affecting his health slowly but considerably. There hasn’t been any discussion about the changes in his health—nor has he yet offered any.
“There are rumors spreading about the original chain that belongs with the legendary locket.”
Beside me, Ian perks up.
Dean continues, “There’s talk that the chain has been found and is being bought and sold.”
“That’s impossible!” Cole and I say at once.
“How do you know of this?” Toro demands.
Before answering, Dean inhales slowly then releases a wary sigh. “Within the Black Market of Ireland there’s talk about a young orphan boy in possession of the chain. A bounty has been placed on his head for anyone who claims him.”
There’s a short silence while Dean leans forward and takes the glass of untouched water from my desk.
“War has begun.”
Dean sets his palm in the air. “No, not yet. The boy has been murdered. The guardians had done a trace but have found no leads to the boy’s whereabouts.”
“War,” Ian smiles. “Bitter, but I’ll make sure some sugar and cream is added.”
The chain is a necessity to Avala’s locket. The two pieces are one. In order for the locket to enable its magic, the chain that had been originally crafted must be with the locket. The magic within the locket is worthless, but once the chain and the locket connect it forms a bond that awakens the magic within the locket.
Something so simple, but yet convoluted with unimpeachable limits where its beauty is it’s out disaster.
“The chain must be a phony. A replica.” Cole inquires keeping his composure with the depth of his voice.
Toro nods his head, “Aye, I agree with this. I’ve never seen replicas, but I know the real thing when I’ve seen it.”
I take a second, reminiscing over the possibilities; pacing to and fro from one end of my desk to the other.
“Dean,” Cole asks turning to face him. “Have there ever been any reports from the guardians about replicas?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Of course,” I say my voice tight with certainty. “Because there aren’t any.”
“How are you so sure?” Toro asks.
I look to Cole, give him a slight nod, and he moves towards the portrait hanging above my desk. Pressing his palm against the painting there’s a spark that inflames from his finger tips. It opens up through his veins giving his body a slight luminosity. The painting reconstructs itself to the chains location. Within seconds, Cole has fully reawakened the lock and key to the entrance of the chain’s hidden location.
Stepping behind the painting, I enter into the darkened corridor with Toro and Cole following behind me.