Indebted Page 17

  In the middle of another hall, there stand two large, weathered suits of armor flanking an enormous set of double doors. Intrigued by the presence of the ancient armor, I stop to admire the cold, smooth surface of one of the silent warriors. Turning from it, I push a heavy, wooden door aside and enter a very masculine bar that I’m going to name the “Knight’s Bar” for all the suits of armor within it lining the walls.

  It looks like it may have been the chapel of the castle at one time in the distant past, but it has been converted into a very chic tavern. The walls are lined in dark wood with an intricate Celtic knot carved into the top of each panel. Stained-glass rosette windows adorn every wall, letting in colorful light that draws intricate patterns on the floors and walls. Heavy chandeliers hang from the exposed beams, peaking high above my head and casting soft light down on the tables beneath them. A sleek bar area is built into the side of the room. Wandering behind the bar, there is every kind of alcohol known to man stocked behind it. I let my eyes wander over the labels. Some are in English, but most aren’t. It’s a menagerie of colorful bottles and liquids that would make any evil scientist cringe in envy.

  Selecting a glass from the bar, I fill it with water from the tap and then carry it to one of the polished tables by the bar. Sitting down on a chair, I prop my feet up on the table, while dipping my spoon into the jar. As the peanut butter melts in my mouth I have to fight the tears that spring to my eyes. Memories of homemade lunches packed by Uncle Jim into paper bags with juice boxes and carrots flash in my mind. How did I get here? I wonder as I attempt to swallow past the lump in my throat.

  I take a sip of water to try to ease my throat and I almost gag on it as Declan, Lachlan, Faolan and Eion stroll into the room. Lachlan and Faolan look relieved as they both slow and go to the bar to lean against it. Declan and Eion, on the other hand, walk with cool, corporate precision to my table. Pulling out chairs across the table from me, they both sit down, glaring at me.

  “By all means, have a seat,” I remark with sarcasm. “Peanut butter?” I ask, offering my spoon to Declan and then Eion with a quirk of my brow.

  Eion looks askance at the peanut butter and growls at me.

  “We have ta go o’er a few ground rules, Genevieve,” Declan says in a stern tone right before he looks at me closer. “Is dat me shirt?” he asks, appalled.

  I shrug, “Could be—where’d you leave it?” I ask.

  “’TIS me lucky shirt, Genevieve! Ye blighter! Ye took it from me room—are dose my pants, too?” he accuses me, pointing to the boxers I’m wearing. Dipping my finger in the jar, I pull out a huge glob of peanut butter. I pop it in my mouth, pulling my finger back out, and then I wipe my finger down the front of the shirt in question, watching his brows draw together in a scowl.

  “It’s not that lucky, Declan. You’re still sitting here,” I say, picking up my water and taking another sip.

  “Ah, ye’re disgustin’,” he says. “Is dat yer plan, den? Make us toss ye out when ye smell as bad as da rubbish—and ye do smell, lass,” he says, wrinkling his nose as if I offend his senses. “It’s na going ta happen. He will never let ye go, no matter whah ye smell like.”

  “Hey, pot, you’re black—stinky, rotten flower boy,” I mutter, feeling my cheeks redden as he easily sees through my plan.

  Eion’s fangs shoot forward in his mouth, causing Declan and me to look at him. “I luv it when ye blush,” he says, shrugging his shoulders lightly and all the hair on my arms stands up as he gazes at me with longing in his eyes.

  Declan rubs his forehead in irritation. “Do us a favor, go and feed and den come back,” Declan orders Eion. Eion retracts his fangs and gets up from the table, leaving the room in a fraction of a second. Shaking his head in frustration, Declan turns back to me. “Rules—” Declan begins, but stops when I interrupt him.

  I hold up one finger saying, “Rule number one: don’t bother me when I’m eating. I don’t bother you when you’re eating. Let’s consider it a mutual respect thing.”

  “Respect?” he asks, looking at me with widening eyes. “If ye had respect for us, den ye would’ve told us ye wanted ta leave yer room. Den, we would’ve come wi’ ye and den we would’ve gotten ye someting better ta eat den dat stuff ye have found for yerself.”

  “I want to be alone,” I say. “Why do you have to follow me around anyway? It’s not like I can leave,” I point out, frustrated that I can’t be alone.

  “Dis is na Disneyland, Genevieve,” Declan says in a serious tone, watching me across the table.

  “You think, Declan?” I shoot back, because he is stating the obvious.

  He ignores my sarcasm and says, “Dere are dose here dat could be tempted by ye even tough ye belong ta Brennus.”

  “I tought ye said I’m disgustin’,” I reply, using his accent.

  “Disgustin’ for ye, which makes ye still very, very, sexy. Have ye no idea den whah ye look like? Whah ye are like? Ye are a legend ‘round here. The fellas favorite ting ta do is ta sit ‘round and tell all the stories of ye from da caves,” he says with a speculative raise of his eyebrow.

  “So I’m a fish story? The one that got away…until now,” I mutter with a grimace.

  “Dere’s dat, but dey mostly like ta tell ‘bout how ye didn’t allow Brennus ta turn ye. Dey all know whah dat means,” he says significantly. They all would. Some, if not all of them, have been turned into Gancanagh by the same method of starvation and thirst that Brennus tried on me, but I didn’t give in—I was prepared to die. “Course, dey also like da story of how ye killed Keegan,” he adds, smiling. “Dey call ye the ‘Queen o’ Hearts’ ‘cuz it was off wi’ his head.”

  I feel like he just punched me in the stomach, hearing Keegan’s name and knowing how I had killed him. I say quietly, “Keegan was insane. He wouldn’t stop.”

  “He was insane,” Declan agrees, “and he would’ve killed ye, so ye took care of him. No one disputes dat. He died a good death. It jus makes ye dat much more attractive, aingeal. So ye need us, because ye are too much of a temptation, for now anyway. If he turns ye, den ye can walk ‘round here wi’out us. Maybe ye should ask him ta do dat and den I can be free o’ ye.”

  “But then I’d miss you, Declan,” I smile mockingly at him, before eating another scoop of peanut butter.

  “Eaves!” Molly calls and my head snaps towards the doorway to see my friend entering the room, walking with a casual swagger that has every eye on her. “There you are! Everyone is looking for you. Brennus is pissed off. You better go tell him you found her, Deck, or he might have a total meltdown. He heard that you were wandering around alone and almost went postal,” she says significantly, looking at Faolan and Lachlan who have guilty looks.

  “Faolan, tell him where we are,” Declan orders and Faolan is out of the room with military precision.

  “What are you eating? Peanut butter?” Molly asks me as she comes up to me, and leaning down, she hugs me tight, pressing her icy lips to my cheek. As she pulls back she says, “It smells so disgusting! I used to love peanut butter and now it smells like, ugh, fertilizer or something.” She rubs her nose like it stings while Declan snorts in agreement and Lachlan grins.

  “Don’t laugh, Declan, or the lucky shirt is going to take another hit of stink,” I warn him, brandishing the peanut butter near to his shirt.

  “Eaves, you look—did you take a shower today?” she asks, trying to be discreet as she plugs her nose.

  “I’m so sorry, Molly,” I murmur, feeling tears spring to my eyes, as I look at my friend who has been like a sister to me. I can’t fix what they’ve done to her. I can’t undo it and the agony of that fact is crushing me. They made her a beautiful, undead monster.

  “It’s okay, you don’t smell that bad,” she tries to reassure me when she sees my tears.

  “I’m sorry that I made you their target,” I explain right away, so that she knows exactly what I’m talking about. My tears are running down my cheeks and I’m unable to do anything abo
ut them.

  “Oh, that,” she says, waving her hand in the air like it’s of no consequence. “No worries. I like being Gancanagh—it rocks.”

  “What?” I ask, not believing what she’s saying, as I wipe my tears with the sleeve of Declan’s shirt.

  “Yeah, it’s stellar. They made me a demigod. I can’t believe you wouldn’t want this,” she says, and I can see she’s telling the truth. “They made me beautiful—my skin is flawless—look at my hair!” she says, holding it up. It’s thicker and longer than it used to be with a beautiful shine to it that makes me want to reach out and touch it.

  “You like it?” I ask her, stunned.

  “I can have anything I want, whenever I want it, however I want it. I only need to reach out and touch it—take it. The family has been good to me. Since I’ve been the only female that they have turned in centuries, it’s like being invited to join an exclusive boys club,” she admits. “I only have to answer to my máistir, oh, and Brennus, of course, but I get carte blanche because I’m your ‘special friend,’ so sláinte, Eaves!” she says, hugging me again.

  “Who is your máistir? Do I know him?” I ask in a quiet tone. My whole body is still, waiting for her to tell me the name of my target.

  “Of course you know him. It’s Finn,” she says his name breathlessly, like she worships him or something. I close my eyes, feeling the knife twist in my heart. I trusted Finn and he killed my friend.

  “My life is so perfect now, Eaves,” she whispers, seeing the anguish on my face. Her face still holds its innocence even though I know she’s truly a killer now. She sinks into the chair next to me and takes both of my warm hands in her icy ones.

  “How can it be perfect? You kill people for sport,” I ask with regret.

  “Yeah, but it’s their own fault that they are so tasty,” she says, smiling into my eyes. “Sorry, inside joke. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t eat what they import here—females aren’t my thing, if you know what I mean. I like to find prey that makes demons look like kindergarteners. The really mean ones, because they’re the most fun! You know, the men who beat their wives or those wankers who beat up people for no reason other than the fact that they’re stronger and they can. They’re everywhere, in every pub, on every street, in every neighborhood. There’s no shortage of sucky men,” she explains to me.

  “So you’re like a superhero, keeping the streets safe for the normal folk?” I ask her with a skeptical look.

  “Not really, I just love watching the horror on their faces when the little girl they were going to destroy turns out to be a freaky monster that can tear them apart,” she replies. “The strong ones scream the loudest. Did you know that?” she asks and I shake my head. “The weak expect to be victims, but the strong…they never see it coming.”

  “Killer karma, Molls?” I ask.

  “Irony, Eaves,” she replies.

  “Ye should see her, Genevieve,” Declan says with a proud glance towards Molly. “She’s a vicious terror. She likes ta wear gloves so dat she doesna drug her victims when she bites dem—ye would know whah dat is like, wouldn’t ye?”

  “Yeah, I know what that’s like,” I admit, losing color at the memory.

  “I tell ye true, wans make da most vicious killers. Dat’s why we rarely turn females…ye are hard ta control and willful.”

  “Pain makes everything taste so much sweeter, Deck. It just wouldn’t be the same without it,” she winks at him and he smiles back like he finds her savage nature precious.

  “What about your family?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

  Pain enters in her eyes. “What about them? They don’t know—they think I’m dead. We made it look like I died in a fire. They will move on and so will I. I’m immortal now. I have Finn and the family to protect me—and now my best friend. My life couldn’t get any better than this.”

  “You have no soul,” I say softly with the weight of regret in my voice.

  “I don’t miss it. There is such power in what we are. Surrender, Eaves. You won’t regret it,” she says in earnest.

  “Can’t,” I reply, shaking my head and thinking of Reed.

  Molly’s eyes show fear. “He will break you,” she says of Brennus in a low tone to me, leaning towards me.

  “He will try,” I agree

  “I can’t protect you,” she whispers in my ear.

  “I know,” I whisper back and I drop her hands to hug her tight. “We’re playing for different teams now, Molly,” I say, feeling tears collecting in my eyes again.

  “We’ll draft you—it’s just too much fun on our side,” Molly says with confidence. Pulling away, her face lights up and she rises from her seat, “Don’t be sad, Eaves, check this out—Finn taught me how to do it. I’ll teach you,” she promises, holding her hand out in front of her.

  As Molly concentrates on the palm of her hand, she whispers words that I don’t understand, but I feel the air around her changing, like there is now the scent of electricity that wasn’t there a moment ago. Instantly, a small, flickering flame bursts into life in the palm of Molly’s hand. Looking up, she holds the flame out to me, smiling as it dances and wavers weakly. “I still suck at it, but it’s getting better,” she smiles, and then she closes her hand, extinguishing the flame.

  From behind her, Finn enters the Knight’s Bar, clapping his hands, “Dat’s very good, Molly, ye learn so quickly, mo laoch,” Finn says proudly.

  Molly’s smile broadens while I grow tense. Killing scenarios enter my mind as I get up from my chair. I pull Declan’s rugby shirt from me, tossing it to him where he is still seated at the table. Knowing that the t-shirt that I put on underneath is going to tear off me in a second, I hold the front of it to me. When my wings shoot from my back, I manage to tie the tattered ends of the shirt around my neck, and then around my waist, tying it in the back so that the shirt now resembles a backless halter-top.

  All of the Gancanagh in the room are watching me with interest as Finn slows his pace to us. Backing up from him, I move to the suit of armor directly behind me. Turning, I pull the battered, war-tested sword from the grasp of the hollow, metal figure and hold it in my hands with a menacing scowl.

  “You,” I call to Finn, seeing him tense. I back up to the next suit of armor and pull a second sword from its grasp. Tossing the sword to Finn, it falls to the ground with a loud clatter in front of him.

  “Genevieve, I canna fight ye,” he says in a soft tone, not picking up the sword I threw at him.

  “Yes, you can, Finn. Pick it up” I insist, letting my wings arch out boldly as I begin to stalk Finn.

  Molly’s fangs engage, click, when she realizes what I’m doing. Hissing at me, she steps in front of Finn, facing me with a defensive posture that lets me know that I will have to go through her to get to him.

  “This is between Finn and me, Molly,” I say to her, trying to figure out how I’m going to get to him without hurting Molly.

  “He is my máistir,” Molly replies, not moving an inch away from Finn.

  I shift away from them and use all of my speed to run at the wall beside me. My speed helps me defy gravity as I run onto the wall and arc past the point in the room where Molly and Finn are standing. Then, using the wall like a springboard, I rocket off of it and dive to the floor behind Molly and Finn. Finn pivots and shields Molly, while I raise my sword and bring it down, angling it towards his neck. It stops before hitting him as it smashes into an invisible barrier that forms between Finn and me.

  Dropping my sword, it feels like I shattered the bones in my arms. I hug my arms to me, growling at Finn through the invisible film between us. As I look around quickly, I reach out and grasp the back of a chair in my numb hands, hurling it at Finn where he stands in front of me. The chair smashes and splinters into pieces as it hits the barrier he has erected around Molly and himself.

  “Stop, Evie!” Molly demands while I stalk around their barrier, throwing my shoulder up against it to test it for weaknesse
s. I need to find a way in so that I can mop the floor with Finn’s head.

  Circling them, I come back to face Finn. Looking directly into his eyes, I ask, “Why?”

  “Because I want her,” he replies, “I asked dat she be moin when it was determined dat we would turn her.”

  “Why you?” I ask and my voice cracks with bitterness at the betrayal I feel. He was my only friend and he destroyed that in an instant.

  “Because I had nuting of my own ‘til her and I will kill anyting dat tries to take her from me,” he retorts with menace.

  My eyes narrow as I ask, “Do you love her?”

  “She’s moin,” he replies with lethal precision that makes my eyes widen. That is probably the closest he can come to saying he loves her while we are in front of Declan and Lachlan, who are trying to figure out what they need to do to stop me from killing their second in command.

  Cold hands slip around my waist, pulling me back into a solid chest. I don’t have to look to know that Brennus is holding me in his arms like a steel cage. Leaning down, he whispers in my ear, “You can na kill me brudder, mo chroí.”

  “Why not? He killed my friend,” I reply heatedly.

  “She is content,” he replies and I see that he’s not lying. Molly loves him, and for now, she is a favored pet…and maybe more than that where Finn is concerned, I think grudgingly. “Finn will be a good guardian ta her. He will teach her everyting he knows, so dat she will thrive. He has affection for her and she has affection for him. Who are ye ta say dat ’tis wrong?” he asks me.

  “I’m her sister,” I say, feeling tears fill my eyes. I try to choke them off because I don’t want to cry in front of any of them. I can’t show any more weakness or they will use it against me. “Let me go,” I say, but Brennus’ hands tighten on me as he pulls me against him, hugging me like he can’t let me go.

  “’Tis going ta be hard for ye ta adjust here, we know dat. Give it time, mo chroí. Ye will see dat we all jus want da best for ye,” he says, and I try not to scoff.

  “Brennus, you’re tearing my heart out and when it’s gone you may not like what’s left of me,” I say softly, pulling hard to get away from him. He lets go of me with reluctance and I point to Finn, “Stay away from me.” I begin to walk to the door.