Broken (11 page)

“I don’t believe you,” I said. The problem
was, I did. And I was scared shitless. I was losing control of
everything around me and I needed to have something that was mine,
some piece of my life I had control over. Even if it was the
ability to step outside those gates and prove to myself I still
owned my destiny.

I continued on, bent on proving him wrong.

He grabbed me again. “Please Katherine, don’t do
this,” he pleaded.

“Well, then why don’t you use one of your little
charms on me?” I pretty much spat the words at him.

He pressed his lips together. “I won’t. Not on
you.”

“Why not?” I said. “You got me into bed,
didn’t you? And likely all those other women?”

“They were different.”

“How? Because my aunt didn’t tell you to sleep with
them?”

Those emeralds were looking deep into mine. “Because I
care about you.”

“What a load of shit!” I said. I turned on him and
continued to the gates, and that’s when I stopped.

A fox trotted past the gate. Its fur was the golden color I had
learned to recognize in the woman that had killed my family
members. It looked at me with the same smile she had given me in
the dreams.

I sucked in my breath.

“Now do you see?” he asked. He pointed.
“She’s waiting for you. And she will take you like the
others.”

Tears of fear and anger welled up. I clenched my eyes. I had no
control. Nothing. Every piece of freedom was being taken from me.
This bitch was chipping away at me, and I was trapped.

I dropped to my knees.

I wept.

Chris knelt down beside me. I felt his arms slide around me and
I buried my face in his chest. I just needed someone to clutch
while I let the pain come out in ugly sobs.

He whispered to me, words I couldn’t make out over my own
cries. But the sound of his voice was soothing. I clung to him, as
if trying to save myself from drowning — a rock in a stormy
sea of despair.

What was I going to do? I couldn’t remain here for the
rest of my life. Would I live to be some decrepit old woman wrapped
in a shawl of fear and regrets? And, if the golden-haired woman
figured out how to get past the gates, then what? Would I beg her
to end it quickly?

Why was she doing this?

At that thought I stopped crying. Why
was
she doing this?

I let go of Chris and stood on my own. He rose with me.

“Why is she doing this?” I asked. Chris reached to
wipe the tears from my face, but I backed up and did it myself.

He lowered his hand. “We don’t know.”

“Who is she?”

My Aunt waddled over. “We think she’s one of the
older fey folk.” She looked to where the fox had swept past
the gate. “Let’s go inside, where I have some
protection from her overhearing us.”

I looked to the gates. The fox was gone, but I couldn’t
help but feel the golden-haired woman was watching me.

We walked back into the house in silence and I took my position
on the sofa, Chris across from me. This time he looked a little
more relaxed.

“All right,” I said, taking a calming breath.
Apparently there was no getting off this roller coaster ride, so I
figured I might as well hold on tight, even if I couldn’t
enjoy it. “Let’s try this again. Tell me everything you
know. And start at the beginning.”

Aunt Marigold poured herself another cup of tea. I figured this
was going to be a strange tale, so I sat back, trying to keep an
open mind.

“Well,” Aunt Marigold said, “we know that this
seems to have started in 1891, when a man called Thomas Gregory
died from drowning. He was twenty-four years old. After that, every
eldest child has died somewhere in their twenty-fifth
year.”

I nodded. I’d seen the dates Mother had written out.

“And my mother knew about this, didn’t
she?”

Aunt Marigold nodded. Her look was solemn. “I’m
afraid I told her that adopting you might end this.”

What?

I took a breath. Having emotional outbursts was getting me
nowhere and wouldn’t get me what I needed to know.

I gritted my teeth. “All right,” I said. “Do
you know how she treated me growing up?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry, child. I had no idea she
would do what she did. I had only meant to end this. Your father
thought the whole thing was nonsense. I tried to warn him, even
from a young age, but he wouldn’t listen.” She paused.
“Neither would his father, nor his father, nor my twin
brother — your great-great-grandfather.”

Great-great-grandfather?

“How old
are
you?” I asked.

Aunt Marigold smiled. “One hundred and twenty,” she said,
“and long ready to move on, but not until I’ve seen the
blight on our family removed.”

“One hundred and twenty?” She didn’t look a day over seventy. “Why aren’t you in some kind of record book? You should be all over the news!”

Aunt Marigold fiddled with some of the rings on her fingers. “I have no telephone, nor television service; nothing that might ask for my age. I live as if I don’t exist.”

“How is that even possible?”

She smiled. “There are beings and powers in this world that can do many things, even extend a human life for a time, but they always have their price.” There was sorrow in her eyes.

A thought struck me then. “Wait a minute, you said
twin
brother. Why aren’t
you dead too?”

“It’s either one of a few explanations,” she
said. “One, I’m a woman. All of the family that has
died at the age of twenty-four have been men. Of course, each generation had born only one child.”

“Is that why my mother adopted a girl?”

My Aunt shook her head. “She didn’t care what the
sex of the child was. She only wanted to adopt before she got
pregnant herself. I had hoped that perhaps you wouldn’t be
harmed if I had found them a girl to adopt. But now I see
it was a poor assumption.” She took
a sip of her tea. “It leaves me with only one other
explanation. Although I was a twin, I was the youngest of the two.
My brother was born first.” She looked around her. “But
to be prudent, I’ve been in hiding all my life.”

“Who
is
she?” I asked. “And what does she
want?”

Aunt Marigold rose, looking flush. She ambled to the window and
put her fingers to her neck. Then she turned and there was a look
of horror on her face.

She started to gasp and clutched her chest.

“Oh my god!” I ran over to her, trying to help her
to the ground before she fell. Chris grabbed her other arm and
eased her down.

“Call the
ambulance!” I yelled.

“There’s no phone!”

“Cell!”

“Aunt Marigold,” I said. “What’s
wrong?”

My Aunt tried to speak, but breath barely escaped her lips.

“No bars!” Chris said, and ran outside.

“T-t-t…,” my aunt whispered, and then her
eyes closed and went still.

No!

This wasn’t happening.

Then I realized Chris had run outside.

Oh my god!

I bolted after him. “Chris!”

I ran out and didn’t see him in the immediate
vicinity.

Please, no!

I stumbled through the winding path of the garden, the towering
hollyhocks impeding my view.

“Chris!”

I reached the front gates. They were open.

No!

He was nowhere to be seen.

“Chris!” I yelled.

My feet froze. I was petrified to step outside the gates.
Searching for signs of the fox, or any other creature, failed to
reveal anything.

I put a toe out.

Nothing happened.

“Chris!”

Then, I thought I heard him speaking. It was down at the
roadside where we’d left the car.

Chris!

I bolted. I didn’t care what was going to happen. I needed
to know he was safe. I needed to know I wasn’t going to be
left alone and stuck in some old cottage for the rest of my
years.

I rounded the bend and found him, leaning against the car. He
had his cell phone to one ear and his finger stuck in the other. He
was yelling into the phone the location of the house.

“Chris!” I yelled.

He saw me and nodded acknowledgement. He put his finger to his
lips to shush me while he talked.

He lowered his head, as if straining to hear.

I didn’t slow my run. Something felt wrong.

Seconds later, I noticed it. A car was barreling down the
highway, from behind Chris.

“Chris!” I yelled.

He motioned for me to keep it down, and turned away.

My legs picked up speed.

I watched the car. Surely it was just a figment of my
imagination that it, too, was increasing speed.

Please, no!

My heart raced.

I didn’t care about anything right now. I only wanted to
get to Chris.

The car showed no sign of slowing, and I looked at the driver.
It was a woman.

She had golden hair.

Shit!

“Chris!”

He wasn’t hearing me.

My legs ached, but I pushed them harder.

The car sped up. It was aiming for Chris.

I raced.

The car’s engine made little noise as it closed in. The
golden-haired woman was smiling at me, that same sickening grin
she’d given me before.

Not this time, bitch!

Throwing myself at Chris hard, just like I’d done
countless times before in rugby practice, I prayed I could get us
both clear as I heard the engine of the car roar in my ears.

Chapter 14

The first thing that ran through my mind was the pain in my
shoulder as I launched myself into Chris. It was like throwing
myself at a slab of beef. The resulting sensation ripped down my
back.

I heard no screeching brakes, only the crunching of metal that
clattered in my ears. I winced as the two of us flew towards the
pavement.

I waited for the car to strike me in the legs, but was relieved
when all I felt was the two of us slamming into the ground. We both
rolled. The phone flew and smashed into pieces as it struck the
road.

We rolled into the ditch on the other side as both cars
exploded. I was glad I wasn’t roadside for the blast. I would
have been pierced by the metal and glass shards that flew.

Chris moaned. His face was scraped where he’d hit the
pavement.

I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when I saw the blood
trickling down his face. It wasn’t sparkling, nor was it
green. It was the same color as my own, which was flowing from my
nose. My face had done a nice job of smacking into his legs as
we’d rolled.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You’re
bleeding.” He looked around for something to hand me, but I
waved him off, pinching my nose.

“So are you,” I said and pointed to his head.

Another explosion thundered. We both winced and ducked. A tire
rolled past us and into the woods. We both looked to the flaming
cars.

“We better get back to the house fast,” he said, and
yanked me up by the arm.

Before another car came along, or any other disaster struck, we
ran for the protection of Aunt Marigold’s house.

The
golden-haired woman was nowhere to be seen.

There were mixed feelings running through me as we sprinted for safety. My Aunt was dead
in the house, we’d almost been killed, I was trapped within
the confines of the iron gates, and I was in pain.

I started to limp towards the house. I was sure the police would show up soon, and they’d likely have a lot of questions.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to stick around for them.

Chris grabbed my arm and pulled me close. “You saved my
life.” He held me to him.

It had been an instinctual thing. I wasn’t going to let
him die. Despite whatever he was, my feelings about him
weren’t going to just disappear that easily. I still needed
to sort him out, but there were other more pressing matters.

I hugged him quickly and then left him to make my way back into
the house.

Aunt Marigold’s body hadn’t moved. I was sort of
relieved since I wasn’t sure what to expect any longer. I
wasn’t sure if she’d rise from the dead, become a
zombie, or go vampire. The whole world had turned upside down as
far as I was concerned.

I was also greatly saddened. She’d obviously meant for me
to get here to be safe, had been trying for generations to sort out
this family curse, and now was gone.

Brokk was sitting next to her, stroking her face with his meaty
hand. Little tears were running down his cheeks. I did the only
thing that made sense. I picked him up and held him to me. His body
shook with quiet sobs.

Chris entered the house.

“So, what are we going to do?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I don’t
know if I can stay here. If the police come and see my dead
Aunt and the cars out there, they’ll be asking a lot of
questions. They may even want to take me in for questioning. On the other hand, I can’t leave this place. How
am I supposed to tell the police that if I leave here, I’ll be
killed.”