Read Broken Online

Authors: David H. Burton

Tags: #england, #paranormal romance, #fantasy, #britain, #nookbook, #fiction, #romance, #Broken, #fey, #myth, #ebook, #fairies, #faery, #trolls, #epub, #celtic, #mobi, #magic, #faeries, #David H. Burton, #nymphs, #kindle, #fairy

Broken (9 page)

BOOK: Broken
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We did our best to sneak out of the washroom, but one of the
male flight attendants noticed us. He gave Chris a look that
screamed of “I wish I had been in there”, and then
winked at me.

We returned to our seats, and I did a quick search for the earrings.
They were nowhere to be found. We buckled in, and the descent
began.

Chris held my hand as the plane touched down smoothly into Heathrow, but I didn’t relax until we came to a
halt. Although my birthday hadn’t come yet, I was getting a
little antsy about what might happen at any moment.

At the very least, if what I was seeing in those visions was
true, then I knew who to look out for. That golden-haired bitch
wasn’t taking me without a fight.

We passed through customs without too much hassle. I
contemplated taking a cab to a nearby hotel, but I was running out
of time. Instead we rented a car and drove to the address I had for Aunt Marigold’s house in the Cotswolds.

Fortunately, Chris had driven in England numerous times, so he
took the wheel while I watched the countryside, in the dark. The
sun hadn’t come up yet.

I stared out the window, wondering what we would find.

There was
one thing at the back of my mind as well. When I was last here, I
had left with a shattered heart. The boy I’d spent that summer
with, the first person who’d ever actually loved me, had swept me
off my feet and then dropped me cold.

For years, I had hopped from bed to bed in the hopes of finding
that same feeling again. It had never happened. Instead, I walked
around feeling like ten pounds of shit stuffed into a five-pound
bag.

I shoved the memories of him deep down into the recesses of my
mind, where he needed to remain — forgotten.

Through rolling hills and valleys we drove with the moon
illuminating the way. I actually watched the trees and greenery. I
hoped to see the little green man. Perhaps he would be here. At the
same time I wasn’t sure if he had a connection to the
golden-haired woman. I hoped not.

“Tell me,” Chris said, pulling me away from my
search. “The last dream you had. Where were you
again?”

“On a battleship. If I had to guess,
WWII.”

“How do you know?”

“If I go back three generations, that’s around
1939.”

Chris nodded. “And you watched that woman drag your grandfather
under water?”

“Great-grandfather,” I said. “My grandfather
died in a car crash, having sex with her while driving.”

Chris grimaced, but then grinned.

I felt a twitch between my legs at the thought. It lasted less
than a second.

“Nice thought, but with my luck, she’ll be driving a
truck in the opposite direction while we’re at it. Then
I’ll be taking you with me.” I looked in those emeralds
of his. “Interesting way to go, but I don’t think
so.”

He jokingly pouted.

“But I’ll make you a promise,” I said.
“We figure out how to get out of this and I’ll take you
up on that offer.”

That devilish grin was back.

We passed a forested area. I peered through the trees, but found
nothing.

“You keep looking into the trees. It’s not light
enough to see much.”

I hated admitting it. It was going to sound ridiculous.

“I’m looking for the little green man. I’m starting to think he’s been trying to warn me.”

“Or show you how to fight this?”

“Maybe,” I said. “I don’t know.
Hopefully Aunt Marigold will have some answers.”

“And what if she doesn’t?”

“Go dancing naked in the forest and hope to find the queen
of the faeries to help me?”

I really had no idea what the next step was going to be. I was also getting hungry.

I asked Chris to stop at the next village or town so we could
find a place to eat. His grumbling stomach didn’t argue with me.

We found a quaint pub that was open. The local ale was
meatier than what I was used to, but likeable. Chris enjoyed it
immensely.

We shared some battered fish with chips. It was early morning
here, but for us it was a long overdue dinner. I’m not sure
if it was my hunger or not, but the food was delicious.

As we nursed our beer, the villagers talked quietly among
themselves. I was surprised. I’d always heard that in these
small towns the locals were quite friendly and open. I can’t
say they were staring at us, but there were a few glances that
didn’t make me feel particularly comfortable. Most of them,
though, seemed to avoid my gaze.

I thought about asking Chris if he noticed, but he pushed his
chair back before I could speak.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Back in a
moment.” He made his way to the washrooms while I continued
to sip and listen.

The talk wasn’t really much of anything important, chat of
the weather, recent problems with someone’s sheep, and a few
tasteless jokes. Under it all, I did catch one thing.

Two women in the corner. “She’s not natural,”
said the fatter one.

“I’m telling you, Natty, I’ve seen her kind
before and no good will come of this.”

My first instinct was to find a mirror.

Did I look that bad?

“When she comes back from the washroom, don’t look
at her.”

Washroom?

So it wasn’t me they were talking about.

“Golden hair like that is unnatural.”

My eyes nearly popped out of my head.

Golden hair?

I tried not to make a scene, but I rose from the table as
quickly as I could. It was the longest walk to a washroom I think
I’ve ever experienced.

My breath was stuck somewhere in my chest. I fisted my
hands.

What was I going to do if I found her?

I rounded the corner and found the washrooms.

The men’s room door was just closing as I caught a glimpse
of golden hair slipping through. I hurried my steps, worried for
Chris now. If she touched him, I’d rip her to shreds.

I pushed the door open and found Chris standing there. He took a
step back as the door swung just past his nose.

“Woah,” he said. That grin was suddenly on his face.
He whispered. “Either all that talk in the car got you riled
up or you got the wrong door.”

I didn’t say anything. I just pushed past him and examined
the washroom. There was one stall and one urinal. It stunk.

I pushed open the stall door. Nothing.

“What’s going on?” Chris asked.

“That golden-haired woman is in the pub. I think I saw her
come in here a second ago.”

“No one’s in here but us,” he said.

I slipped out and went into the women’s washroom. Two
stalls. Both empty. I looked in the mirror.

“I’m not going crazy,” I said to myself. I
washed my face and found Chris waiting for me in the corridor.

“You all right?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I heard
some of the women talking about her and I saw someone with golden
hair enter the men’s washroom. I was afraid she was coming
after you.”

We sat back at the table.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said.

“I do worry. I saw what she did. I wouldn’t be able
to live with myself if she did something to you.”

“Who were the women?” he asked, looking around.

I went to point to the corner, but there was no one to motion
towards. I looked about, but all there was at the table were two
empty tea cups.

I took a deep breath. “Let’s get out of here,”
I said. I’d had enough. I just wanted to get to my
aunt’s house.

Chris paid for the meal and beer, and then we got back in the
car.

“Am I going crazy?” I asked.

He took my hand. “No, but you’ve been through a lot.
And you were drinking a pretty hearty beer.”

I took my hand away. “You don’t believe
me.”

He took my hand again, squeezing it. “I didn’t say
that. It’s possible your mind is playing tricks on you.
It’s also possible you saw what you did. Either way, I still
think you’re perfectly sane.” He kissed my fingers.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Katherine.”

The tension in my body eased, although I didn’t think it
was the beer. I hadn’t had that much. I was tired, though.
Actually, exhausted was more like it. But I refused to sleep. My
actual birthday was now hours away and I just wanted to get to my
aunt’s house.

I don’t know why it seemed so urgent now. It was like I
was racing to find safety there. I didn’t know I would be any
safer at Aunt Marigold’s than anywhere else. Her roof could
cave in, or a jet engine could drop out of the sky the moment I
turned twenty-four.

I sat quietly, looking out into the dawn as we drove.

 

By the time we reached Aunt Marigold’s house, the sun had
just finished cresting the horizon. It was one of those old
thatched roof homes nestled in the trees. It was set amongst the
typical English cottage garden filled with delphiniums and
hollyhocks. There was a faint hint of mint to the air.

We approached the iron gates. Chris lingered behind.

“You sure this is the place?” he asked, looking
around.

I nodded. I remembered it well. It was like nothing had changed
in the last seven years.

I pushed open the gates. They creaked, but not horribly.

There was a slight breeze that made the wind chimes ring close
to the house. The flowers here were beautiful and I stopped to
watch as a couple of finches swept down from one of the cherry
trees. This place was simply right. It held the magic that my heart
remembered well. I closed my eyes and inhaled it. I almost felt
like I was sixteen once more.

I ambled through the garden, following a path that wound around
the house. It was still fairly early, and I didn’t want to
wake my aunt. It wasn’t like she was expecting me.

A few statues of faery-like creatures were scattered about and
there was a small pond off to one end. The garden was still
well-tended.

As I wrapped back towards the front of the house, the door
opened. The woman that stepped out was exactly as I remembered her
— curly hair that was white as cotton. Her face still looked
youthful and a few smile lines wrinkled the corners of her eyes as
she saw me. She raised her jewel-bedecked hands towards me.

“Oh, you made it, luv! You made it!” Her voice still
had that musical ring to it.

Her words made me think that perhaps she’d been expecting
me. Regardless, I smiled. It was nice to be welcomed somewhere.

“Hello, Aunt Marigold,” I said and hugged her. She
was hardly a frail woman, and her embrace was like that of a bear.
She smelled of lilac.

“Oh, child, I’m so glad you came. Just in time,
I’d say.”

This was the point where I knew I needed to ask.

“You were expecting me?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve been sending Brokk to you for years,
but it’s gotten more urgent lately.”

“Brokk?” I asked.

“Well, yes,” she said. “You remember Brokk,
don’t you?” With her crooked index finger she pointed
towards a statue in the garden. Next to it stood the little green
man.

I wasn’t sure what to do with that. My Aunt had been
sending little mysterious creatures to get my attention?
Couldn’t she have phoned? Maybe sent a letter? But then, she
had
been sending them. And I had ignored them.


You
sent him?” I asked.

I heard Chris approach from behind and I realized I hadn’t
introduced him.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Marigold, this is—”

“Chris. Yes, I know, dear. I sent him as well.”

My eyes popped out of my head.

What?

Chapter 12

 

At this point, my mind almost started to spin. I reached out to
grab the house to stop myself from falling.

Aunt Marigold had sent Chris? What the hell was going on?

“I think I need to sit down,” I said. I stooped to
sit on the ground, but my aunt’s firm hand grabbed me and
gently escorted me into the house.

I wasn’t paying attention to what had changed here. I just
needed to sit.

She sat me down in a wooden chair at the old kitchen table. I
put my head in my hands.

What I needed right now was a good strong dose of Dr.
White’s Crazy Pills and a big long sleep. Maybe I’d
wake up and find this was all a dream. I thought about clicking my
heels together because this sure as hell wasn’t Kansas
anymore.

I looked at Chris. His eyes refused to meet mine.

“Chris, dear,” my aunt said, “you should wait
outside. Let me speak with Katherine alone.”

Chris slipped out. He gave one last look in my direction, but
now I couldn’t look at
him
.

“What is going on?” I asked, my head feeling like a
lead weight. Through what frail grasp I had on reality, I could
feel my sanity slipping. Tears welled up in my eyes.

“I need to lie down,” I said. I couldn’t take
any more. I was exhausted, mentally, physically, and
emotionally.

Aunt Marigold escorted me to the sofa with a knitted afghan on
it. It still smelled like old lady. I flopped onto it. My Aunt
draped the afghan over me, stroked my hair, and left me there.

BOOK: Broken
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ads

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