Jan Delima - Celtic Moon

THE SERPENT REFUSED TO RETREAT.

Sophie pressed her palms against her temples. The pounding sharpened, became stronger. Angry. Outwardly, she heard whispers of concern. She felt Tucker’s nose against her arm, heard his soft whine, as if he too felt the Serpent’s displeasure.

The voice became more vehement and annoyed by her resistance. See for yourself, it chanted with dangerous intensity. The mother is betraying you.

A shaft of white light, too pure to be of this world, blinded her into darkness. The pain subsided to a dull ache, replaced by an awful sense of unbalance. The room weaved and the floor rose. There was carpet under her palms, damp and abrasive.

Had she fallen?

Reality shifted into nothingness, a void between truth and delusion. Blurred shapes began to appear, flooding her mind like flashes in a photo booth, monochrome and flat. Soon there was sound, garbled and then pure, as if a higher consciousness was tuning a frequency specific to her mental reception. Serpentine images weaved through her thoughts, slit like a leaf and framed by a crested oblong shape.

Was she seeing through the creature’s own eyes?

FLASHES OF THE GREAT OAK SWAM BEFORE HER, THEN A stream and a cluster of white birches. The images came fast, making her dizzy. A field appeared, matted in the center by a struggle. It was nighttime but she could see clearly; her new eyes preferred the darkness. There was a dead tree in the distance, with a birdlike image carved on its trunk. Dark shapes formed, of blood, so much blood, from a broken woman with long red hair, and other bodies fallen on the ground. There was also a child, limp and unconscious, held carelessly in the arms of a hooded figure too large to be female. He was not alone. There were other shadowed figures, watching and not helping.

Smiling, he lifted his arms high above the ground and let the child roll . . .

“No,” Sophie screamed, reaching out, but her voice went unheard and her arms remained empty, like mist on an ocean of tears. Flashes of inconceivable cruelty lanced through her mind, a mental rape she couldn’t fight back.

The child landed by the man’s feet with a sickening thump and remained motionless. The woman’s screams pierced through the valley, so anguished that angels should have fallen from the sky to answer her call. She tried to cushion the child’s fall with her own body, even as her legs crumpled in broken disarray. Vile laughter followed her attempt, inhuman and without remorse.

“Tell me where she is, Taran, sister of Siân,” the man taunted in the singsong voice of the disturbed. “Tell me where to find Elen ap Merin. Tell me where to find your leader’s sister . . . who keeps the forest alive in winter.”

“There’s a clinic,” Taran sobbed, answering too quickly, inching toward her daughter even as the words fell from her mouth. “Just north of the grain fields. Elen is always there.”

“You dare lie to me? I know she is not at this . . . this clinic .” He sneered the last word as if it were the vilest institution, a building that housed vermin that should be exterminated, not aided. A booted foot lifted, and with shining eyes aglow with malicious joy, he kicked the child, once, and then again . . .

“Stop!” Taran curled her broken body around the child, absorbing most of the blows. “Please,” she sobbed, “please stop.”

“Tell me where Elen is . . . or your little Drwgddyddwg will die for your weakness.”

“In the village.” The hunched figure wept tears of betrayal for choosing her child over others. “There’s a blue house . . .”

THE BASEMENT CAME BACK IN A RUSH OF SOUND AND color. Gasps of horror and pitiful cries from frightened children echoed throughout the room. Tucker’s wet nose nudged her cheek. She tried to sit up but the abrupt motion made her heave.

“Oh, dear Lord,” her mother exclaimed from someplace near. “Sophie, what is wrong with you?”

“Mom?” This from Joshua. Fear clogged his voice, unaccustomed to any weakness from his mother. “Are you okay?”

“Sophie,” another familiar voice repeated her name, professional and persistent. “Sophie, can you hear me?”

“I can hear you.” Her throat felt raw as she spoke, as if she’d been screaming the entire time. She attempted to nod but her reflexes balked. She blinked once, tried again. Elen’s face came slowly into focus.

“Taran . . .” Sophie’s voice broke. She swallowed and tried again. “Taran’s in trouble. She’s hurt. So is her daughter. They need help!”

Elen’s blue eyes held hers, heavy with concern. “How do you know this?”

She didn’t hesitate to reveal her source, the vision having been too real to deny its validity. “The Serpent showed me in a vision.”

Elen blinked once, her only outward show of surprise before hiding her reaction. “It talks to you?”

“Yes.” Sophie dared her to disagree.

She didn’t. “What did the Serpent show you?”

Sophie lowered her voice to a whisper. “A man in a hooded cloak hurting a child. I think it was Melissa. He called her a weird name. It sounded like droogeth . . . something. He wasn’t alone. I saw more figures in the shadows, watching but not helping.” Her hands fisted by her sides as she recounted the sickening scene. “Taran was there. She’s hurt. So are others on the ground.” She stood slowly, gaining her balance.

Elen reached out to steady her, her expression one of horror but not disbelief. “He wanted information from Taran. Do you have any idea what that might be? Did you see or hear anything that might—”

“You,” Sophie warned. “The man is after you. He said something about you keeping the forest alive in winter. I know it doesn’t make sense, but it was so real. Taran told them where to find us. They know where we are.”

“It makes more sense than you know.” Her voice had gone quiet, deadened with acceptance.

“The Guardians are here.” The announcement came from a male who had obviously overheard, a father of one of the children.

“It’s because of her ,” another parent accused, a mother this time, pointing her finger at Elen.

“I knew she wasn’t natural.” A hushed accusation. “I knew she was one of them .”

“What are we going to do?” This from Ella’s mother. Sensing her mother’s fear, Ella began to cry.

Panicked voices rose in unison, flooding the small room with verbal chaos.

Elen seemed to shrink into herself. “I should not have come here,” she told them. “I will leave.”

“We all have to leave,” Sophie announced, not sure what had transpired between these people and Elen. Whatever it was, it ended now. She took a step forward, testing her balance, and then another, gaining their attention. “I’m going outside to speak with Sarah.” Tucker sauntered by her side in silent support, followed by Joshua and her mother. A hush settled in the room. The parents didn’t look pleased but they listened. “Stay here and remain silent while I discuss a plan with the guards. I won’t be long.” As soon as she stepped onto the porch, Sarah rose from the shadows, frowning with obvious annoyance.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” the guard hissed.

“I have reason to believe the Guardians are here.” Pressed for time, she reinforced her story by lifting her sweatshirt. The Serpent lay coiled neatly around her waist. Sarah straightened, nodding for Sophie to continue. “The Serpent showed me in a vision. They know where the safe house is. We need to evacuate the children.”