Fate's Hand: Book One of The Celtic Prophecy (12 page)

Chapter 14

At 7:45, dressed in a black sheath dress that ended just above her knees, Brenawyn tossed her heels by the back door and opted for the more comfortable flip flops. No need to begin torturing her feet by putting the strappy heels on before Alex arrived. “Nan, I’m taking the kitchen garbage out, and I’ll bring the cans to the curb for tomorrow’s pick up.” She went to put a new liner in the kitchen can.

“Ok, Brenawyn. Thank you. Will the dog be okay while you’re gone?” Leo asked from the living room.

“I’m taking him out with me now. He’ll be fine until I get back.” Brenawyn said in response. “Come on, Spence. No time for a walk tonight. You’ll have to make do with the back yard.”

Spencer bolted out the screen door and Brenawyn went around to the side, reaching over to unlatch the gate. Stepping out, she stuffed the last bag into the plastic bin and dragged it to the curb. She stood looking down the street with her arms folded over her chest. Goose bumps prickled on her skin as the branches of the nearby trees rustled in the cool wind. A man in a hooded sweatshirt hurriedly walked past, eyes focused on the ground. She stepped out of his path quickly to avoid collision. She stared after him but he never looked up. Shrugging her shoulders, she bent to get the community paper on the front steps and heard Spencer growl.

Paper in hand, she rounded the corner of the house and saw the dog clawing at the fence to get out, “Hush, Spencer. What’s the matter with you? I’m…” A hand clasped roughly over her mouth and the other latched onto her waist like a vise, lifting her off the ground. Her scream was muffled by the restraint, and she clawed at the hands, writhing in his grip. She bit down on the fingers that found their way into her mouth. The assailant tore his hand away bleeding, and ripped at the neckline of her dress. The flimsy silk gave way at the shoulder seams, and panic flooded Brenawyn’s senses. Mouth freed, she took a deep breath and screamed. The assailant renewed his efforts, grappling as he forced her through the gate, away from prying eyes.

She hit her head on the slate walk as he pushed her to the ground. Momentarily dazed, he had time to straddle her hips, grinding them into the ground. Sprawled on top of her, he captured both her hands in one of his, and held them pinned above her head as he groped in the pocket of his sweatshirt with the other. His hood came free and to Brenawyn’s horror, his eyes flashed scarlet under bushy brows and heavy lids.

With a deep snarl, a blur hit him mid-chest, knocking him off Brenawyn. She scrabbled away, scooting back on the cement using her legs as propulsion and only gaining her feet when she reached the wall of the house. A long-bladed knife glinted with the reflected rays of the near-setting sun as the attacker faced eighty-five pounds of teeth. Spencer launched himself in another attempt at the man, but the knife sunk in the vulnerable side of the dog. Spencer fell to the ground in a whimper, blood spurting out to coat the brindle fur.

“NO!” Tears streaming down her face, armed with a rock pried from the edge of the garden, she flew at her attacker, but he was too quick and dodged. The rock only grazed his shoulder and he emitted a grunt; but in the next instant, he seized her again. “NO! Please, my dog,” she cried.

He brought the knife to her throat and pressed until she could feel a slow warmth trickle down her neck. She stilled, praying for her grandmother to stay safely inside, for someone else to hear her struggles and call for help, for Alex to come and scare him off, for her dog not to die, for a quick death, all at once. Straining her eyes, she looked at Spencer’s labored breathing, but with a shudder his chest ceased to heave. She closed her eyes as fury and bile rose in her throat and she bore down with white knuckles on her attacker’s bare forearm, the sweatshirt pushed up in their previous struggle.

~ ~ ~

Scents of burning hair and roasting meat reached Alex’s nose before an ear-piercing shrill scream broke the silence. He rounded the corner at a dead run and ran into a man clutching his arm. He struggled with the man, wrenching the arm away from his chest; the fleeing man howled in pain, all fight leeched out of him. Alex looked down; the man’s skin and the flesh underneath his fingers had been burnt away and charred to the bone. Alex released his grip but the damaged flesh tore free, and a renewed scream erupted from the hoarse throat. Alex backed away to watch the man stumble off.             

Hearing a sob from further back in the yard, Alex ran to find Brenawyn crouched over her dog. Her sigils glowed brightly down the long line of her near naked back, but it was only on closer perusal that he noticed that her exposed skin was covered in bleeding scrapes and red welts that promised to be bruises tomorrow. “Holy sh—did tha’ man…? I’ll kill him.” Alex shook with outrage.

“No, help me. My dog…my puppy. Help me. He’s hurt bad.”

He dropped to his knees beside her as she pressed what appeared to be the remnants of her dress, wadded up, to the flank of the bleeding dog. Tears flowed freely from her eyes in dark rivulets as they tracked her make-up down her cheeks. “Help me, please. Spencer was stabbed,” she sobbed.

He ripped off his jacket and placed it gently around Brenawyn’s naked shoulders, then he reached to rub the dog’s head. Spencer weakly wagged his tail. “Tha’s a guid sign. Afore we try moving him ta th’ house, did ye see him stabbed?”

“Yes, but not very clearly. The knife went in just behind the left shoulder, but I couldn’t tell how far it went in, or the angle. The blood was spurting out. That’s bad, isn’t it?”

He lied, assuring her that it wasn’t, and assessed her condition. The runes glowed in a pulsing radiance up her arms, across her chest and abdomen and her hands emitted a bright blue light as it pressed the cloth to the dog’s side. “Did he hurt ye…more?”

“No.” Looking down at her bruised body, “he didn’t hurt me more than you can see. I don’t know what he would have done if he had no distractions though. He was too strong.”

“Thank th’ gods for small mercies tha’ yer dog was a distraction. Let’s try ta take th’ dress away ta see, because we’re going ta ha’ ta ease th’ pressure ta move him.”              

Brenawyn took her weight off the make-shift bandage, and the dog gave a small grunt of relief. She eased the cloth back to reveal the gash, but the bleeding had slowed considerably, welling to fill in the gap, but no longer gushing out.

“Aaricht, I will lift him. Grab his muzzle gently but firmly, I doonae want him ta bite me as I move him.”

She positioned herself by Spencer’s head, the dog’s eyes rounding on her dolefully. She cupped his chin and gently placed her thumb over his muzzle.

“Rise with me.” They stood in unison, the dog securely braced in his arms, its soft cry the only sound between them. “Och, tha’s guid. Ye can let go o’ his muzzle. Go clear th’ way.”

Brenawyn picked up the wicker basket on the step. She was only a step of two ahead of Alex so she opened the kitchen door and ran to clear the kitchen table with a swipe of her arm, letting the pot of silk flowers bounce and roll away. “Put him here and I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Leo entered the room as Brenawyn ran out. “What is—oh my goodness!” she cried striding to the table side. “Alex, what happened?”

“Go get a clean towel,” he barked over his shoulder.

As Brenawyn hurried back with a pile of towels and compresses, Leo took in her granddaughter’s appearance—dressed only in her bra and black slip, bedraggled by blood, mud streaked over her limbs and back, her dress obviously the bloody rag held to Spencer. She watched as Brenawyn impatiently discarded Alex’s sport coat over the nearby chair to rifle through the medical kit unhindered. “This is useless. I can’t use anything in here,” she said throwing the kit on the floor.

“Haur Leo, gi’ me a clean towel,” Alex calmly said over Brenawyn’s shoulder. Then, taking Brenawyn’s hand and pulling her closer to the dog, he directed, “Haur, put pressure on it.” Once she was positioned, he stepped away, taking the blood soaked garment from the table and dropping it in the sink. He ripped at his tie, unfastened the top two buttons of his white shirt, and rolled his sleeves up past his elbows.

Slipping the tie beneath the dog, Alex tied a temporary field dressing to keep pressure on the wound. Stepping back, he noticed that the cadence of Brenawyn’s speech changed from the soft murmurs of tender endearments to her wounded dog to higher pitched, almost hysterical mumblings, causing Alex and Leo to look at each other. “What’s the same, Brenawyn?”

Brenawyn looked over her shoulder, “The eyes. His eyes were the same—the same as the woman at the rest stop.”

“How were the eyes the same? What woman at the rest stop?” Leo and Alex asked simultaneously.

“I thought it a trick, play of the light, an overactive imagination when her eyes glowed red.”

“Whoa, start at the beginning.” Alex turned to face her.
So she’s rationalized the encounter with the Vate. How much will she remember now? Will she recognize him? Perhaps it would be better if she did.

Brenawyn took a breath, “I stopped at a rest stop on the way here to use the bathroom. It was empty when I entered, but not for long. The stall next to mine was occupied by a person who shuffled in. The person, the woman—you have to understand, I have no proof that it was her—grabbed my ankle underneath the wall. I stepped on her hand I think, to get away and ran back to my car. Spencer was barking and snarling in the car, and as I drove away, the woman—because I swear there was no one else in the bathroom at the time—she stood in the roadway watching me pass. Her eyes glowed red. The dog went insane, jumping to the backseat, foaming at the mouth much like he did tonight.

“Did you call the police?” Leo asked.

Brenawyn looked at her grandmother flatly, “And tell them what? That some woman grabbed me in the bathroom, and later her eyes glowed red?” Brenawyn quipped sarcastically. “No. I didn’t call the police. Once Spencer calmed down and my heart stopped racing, I dismissed it.”

“Tonight, your attacker’s eyes glowed the same red?”

“Yes. Don’t look at me that way!” Brenawyn looked to her grandmother and said in a small voice, “Nana, I am standing in a room and everyone’s eyes—do my eyes glow too? I’m assuming here, since my skin does. What is that anyway?” She looked at her outstretched arms. She saw the identical nods, “All right, everyone’s eyes, including my own, for some unfathomable reason, glow…if not for that, I would have thought I was crazy too.”

“Go wash up and put some clean clothes on. I’ll take care of Spencer. We have to call the police.”

“No, first I have to take Spencer to the vet to get treated and stitched, then I’ll call the police.” Brenawyn said flatly, leaving the room. With a tired sigh she stuck her head back in. “Alex, can you take care of Spencer for my grandmother while she looks up the address for a vet?”

“Aye, lass,” he said, taking Leo’s position.

When Brenawyn returned, her grandmother was just hanging up the phone. “It’s in Danvers, not far. I have directions. They are expecting you.”

Brenawyn reached over to kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you. I’ll have my cell if you need me. Lock the doors and set the alarm. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Chapter 15

Brenawyn left the vet’s office, reeling in astonishment that the knife had only caused minimal damage to Spencer, and that the vet had said the blood vessels had constricted to stop the bleeding in a way he had never seen before. The vet wanted to keep him overnight for observation. The police were called because a stabbing had to be reported, and by the time Brenawyn and Alex pulled up to the house they had mapped out what to say. The two police officers leaning against their vehicle and speaking in hushed tones were obviously waiting for Brenawyn.

Brenawyn left Alex at the car and approached the policemen, ready to tell them as much as possible: There had been an attacker. He had stabbed her dog and assaulted her. No mention of red eyes and glowing limbs. No mention by Alex of the attacker’s arm being burned to the bone. She took the officers down the side yard where Spencer had jumped into the fight. She gave the physical description of her attacker, sans the glowing eyes. He had been short, a few inches shorter than she, dressed in blue jeans and a hooded, oversized sweatshirt; a tattoo had decorated the right inside wrist, which she’d seen when the sleeve was pushed up, had been tattooed with three thick ink lines, the outer two at opposite angles to the center.

“The tattoo detail will help narrow it down. Did you recognize him?”

Retracing their steps, “No, I didn’t recognize him.” She quickly added, “I’m new to the area. I’ve visited in the past, but I’ve only been in the area for a couple of weeks this time. I have stayed close to home and… I’m sorry; I know it’s not much help.” Tears rolled down her face. Alex approached and put his arm around her.

“Sir, when did you arrive during the attack?”

“I was walking ta th’ house, I bide just up th’ street at 67 Church, ta take Brenawyn ta dinner. I heard a scream and ran, only ta run inta th’ feckin’ man fleeing th’ scene. Had I kent…” he said, disgusted with himself. “Och, no matter. It was then I heard Brenawyn cry out; I went ta th’ back and found her and th’ dog.”

Officer Henderson stepped closer and commented almost accusatorially, “It’s funny, sir, that no one else heard anything, don’t you think?” He pointedly scanned the street, “This street is typically not crowded at that time of day, but people are around—at the restaurant there, and going in and out of the coffee shop, not to mention the bakery across the street. No one heard anything. The buildings are close together, and noises, such as screams, often seem louder at night.”

Spine tensing, Alex said warily, “Officer, am I under suspicion for this crime?”

Breaking away from Alex’s hold, Brenawyn took a step forward, “No, it wasn’t him. I have told you that the man was considerably shorter than me,” she interjected coming to Alex’s defense.

“No, sir, it appears that the lady is comfortable with you.” Then turning to Brenawyn, “It’s all right, ma’am, if you remember anything else, be sure to let us know. You need to come down to the station to sign the report tomorrow afternoon.

Brenawyn and Alex walked into the kitchen to meet Leo, who was wringing her hands and pacing the linoleum floor. Brenawyn gave her a weak smile, and turned to kiss Alex chastely on the lips. “Thank you for your help tonight. I’m sorry that our date was ruined.”

“Doonae thank me.” Alex reached down to brush a stray curl behind her ear, “If I’d got thaur sooner he wouldnae ha’ hurt ye.”

“Shh, don’t blame yourself.” Brenawyn looked down and reality sunk in. The sweatshirt hid most of the abrasions, but she pulled it from her skin in revulsion. “I have to shower. Can you wait?”

“If ye would like me ta, I will.”

“Please…Nana, can you help me upstairs? I don’t think I can get the sweatshirt over my head without hurting.”

“Certainly, Brenawyn. Head upstairs and I’ll be right there.” She waited until she heard the stairs creak before turning to Alex. “Can the two incidents be related?”

“Leo, I was thaur at th’ rest stop.”

“What? How did you happen to be there? At that time?”

“I was tracking th’ Vate. I kent her ta be in th’ area from reports o’ occult occurrences—they make headlines. I ha’ been tracking her for months noo, ever since I found tha’ she’s taken a hand in finding promising candidates.”

“You don’t know that Brenawyn is—”

“Do ye ken how many women over th’ centuries? Dozens, and they all need ta be considered.” He paced away. “Something’s happened tha’ has changed th’ rules. I doonae ken wha’, but th’ procedures for divination are not being adhered ta any longer.”

“What did you do exactly at the rest stop?”

“Not nearly as much as I was prepared ta dae. It wasn’t warranted. I dropped th’ veil, assured tha’ it would ha’ th’ desired effect when I saw th’ dog. I wasna disappointed. Tha’ would ha’ been it, other than following her, forcing an introduction, and then eliminating her as a contender based on her aptitude, but th’ Vate arrived afore I did and I had ta go see.”

“She doesn’t remember you though?”

“Nay. Even though she ran inta me, she wouldnae because she was afeart. Then after th’ rest stop, it was more important ta follow Brenawyn, but I lost her on th’ road and figured I’d ha’ ta triangulate her position. Dump th’ truck and track her. It was just chance tha’ she was coming haur.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“Leo, yer taking things oot o’ context. Wha’ dae ye think I am? I wouldnae ha’ said anything until I was sure. Noo tha’ we ken she is th’ Vate’s next target, she must be told. She is no’ frail or feeble o’ mind. She kens and has accepted more than ye give her credit for. She will adjust.”

“Be that as it may, she’s still my granddaughter,” Leo said resolutely, then sighed, “It will be a long night, Here, catch,” she said as she tossed him the keys to the shop downstairs.

Leo looked at him, her lips a grim line bright against a too pale cheek. “The towels and washrags are in the hall closet, then go down and get a shirt off the shelves. After you’re done, bring your shirt and we’ll burn it with her dress.