Guardian of the Moon Pendant (15 page)

  “Apples,” he added tipsily. His glazed eyes focused on my lips, his body leaned in toward me, his thumb wiping away my green foam mustache. “Men like that don’t know what they have ‘til it’s gone.”

My heart
drummed
inside my chest as he gently rolled his thumb over my slightly puckered lip. I think I may have even blushed.

“Are you blushing?” He asked.

My fingers touched my burning cheek. I guess I was blushing, but I’d never own up to it. “No, it’s the grog!” I declared, snatching back the chalice and guzzling the last drop down.

Fergus had a cute grin curling up on the corner of his lips, staring into my eyes longingly, inching his body closer to me. “Izzy MacAlpin,” he whispered stroking my
cheek, “you’re
a very
beautiful lass. Any man would want you
for their own
. Don’t go sell yerself short.”

If I was blushing before, now I was on fire. I felt the tingling sensation of hot blood flooding my cheeks. My eyes cast down to his strong hand which was now caressing mine.

“You are the treasure that a real man seeks,” he whispered into my ear, his breath fanning my face before he leaned in, kissing my forehead softly. “Aye, most definitely there’s another reason why I’m helping you.” He tucked a finger under my chin, lifting to meet his tender gaze. “And it’s you…”

Chapter 10

♦♦♦

Anabel

The moon was almost full. Its light streaked eerily across the purple night, beckoning all of us to the Bloody Baron’s tower. The round stone tower shot up from a grassy embankment, cold and still, two
window
slits cut into its stone pillar in the shape of a cross near its crown, while twinkling lights flickered above its roof.

I stood at the tower’s entrance staring up at the mystical lights floating above it. A gentle breeze swept across my face, sending an icy shiver down my spine. My fears were starting to get the best of me.

Blane and I turned to Izzy and Fergus with their fingers knotted together, explaining as much as we could about the four faeries we were to see for each task. The Bloody Baron in the medieval stone tower, he possessed the elemental of air needed to charge the Moon Pendant’s outer circle of stones. The Ghillie Dhu in the grove possessed the elemental of earth needed to charge the third outer tier of stones. The most dreaded of all was the Nuckelavee, the devil of the sea; he possessed the elemental of water that charged the second tier of the pendant’s stones. The fourth task was the stone faeries within the MääGord standing stones, when the moon rose between the two main
monoliths, casting its light into the Moon Pendant’s center stone. It will complete the Moon Pendant’s final charge of all four elementals.

“But, the moon isn’t made of fire,” noted Izzy, snapping a picture of the ghostly lights on top of the lonely tower.

“Aye,” said Blane, “for it is the sun’s fire cast upon the moon’s surface. “‘Tis redirected into the Moon Pendant. That will charge it fully, and the Guardian will be able to close the Portal.”

Fergus raised an eyebrow. “How is it that these feckin’ faeries are here already?” he asked, rubbing his bristly chin.

“Years ago the Portal was opened, and a few Fae made it through,” stated Blane, “They nested here in these lands. The ley lines keep them at bay. You must understand the Portal is in a limbo state, allowing only certain Fae like the Ankou through it.  Once the Portal is fully open, more will come through, some not as nice as the Nuckelavee and the Baobhan Sith.”

“Will-o’-the-wisp,” cheered Izzy, playing around with Edgar’s
faeland
app. “Foolish firelights seen by travelers at night trying to lead them astray.”

“I could’ve told you that, lass,” Blane glowered at Izzy.

“True,” smirked Izzy, holding up her iPhone, shaking it back and forth, “but you didn’t! Edgar’s app did.”

Blane cocked an eyebrow at Izzy. “Fergus, best you stand guard.”

“Aye,” Fergus replied, slipping his hands into his leather bomber, leaning his shoulder against the frigid stone wall.

Blane yanked open the thick oak door, a cloud of dust exploding in our faces as we opened the crypt. Cautiously, we entered the isolated tower, enshrouded in darkness and silent as a frosty tomb. Our ears perked, reacting to any sound that creaked or popped in the darkness. Our eyes shifting rapidly to any shadow moving in the gloom.

Blane lit one of the torches cradled in an iron sconce on the wall. Our eyes adjusted slowly to the flame’s flickering light.

“Where’s the Bloody Baron?” whispered Izzy into my ear.

“I don’t know,” I said, tilting my head back, gazing up the hollowed inside of the stone tower. A planked staircase curved along the tower’s inner walls, spiraling up to a wooden ceiling. Dangling down from the center was a rope pulley, one cable that pulled up and one that went down. On the stone floor next to our feet was a counterweight attached to one rope.

“What is that?” I asked pointing at the large wheel suspended above our heads.

“That’s how they raised the stones to make the tower,” stated Blane, lighting two more torches.

I stepped forward, my feet wobbling on a metal grate underneath my boots. “Blane, why are my feet wobbling?” I asked.

“You’re just noticing that now?” snorted Izzy, flicking on a flashlight and beaming its bright shaft of light around the tower.

Blane lowered the burning flame, illuminating the ground below our feet in a warm glow, revealing a latticed steel grate with a bolted metal lock fastened to its side. We knelt to see an empty chamber, a damp prison cell, its icy walls lined with shackles and chains, its floor dripping with rusty rain water, bleeding into the cell through a small spout. 

“‘Tis a dungeon, an oubliette,” murmured Blane, throwing his arm out to protect me, gently grazing my breast as we rose to our feet.

My heart fluttered inside, as I bit my lower lip.

Izzy focused her iPhone on an odd statue of a gruesome man at the base of the stairs. “Let’s see who you are,” she said, rushing over to the stone figure. 

“I guess we go up,” I said, stepping in front of the hideous stone statue at the base of the wooden staircase. His body was pure granite, a sinister smile painted across his face, exposing his sharp incisor teeth, a thick sloping hat drooped on his oval head, a crooked nose, and a sharp iron pike with a hacksaw edge clutched in his rangy hand. “Is this the Bloody Baron,” I asked Blane, certain that he looked just like the Bloody Baron in the portrait.

“I can’t get this dang thing to work!” mumbled Izzy, slamming the iPhone repeatedly against the palm of her hand.

“Come, lass,” said Blane, his hand outstretched, grasping onto my hand, leading me up the spiraling stairs, “we have to go to top, Guardian.”

I twisted my body around to see if Izzy was coming, causing my shoulder to graze the tip of the iron pike. “
Ow
! That hurt,” I squealed, rubbing my shoulder where the rigid pike pricked me, smearing blood on my fingertips. “Are you coming, Izzy?”

Izzy looked up quickly at me, her hands still fiddling with her iPhone.
“Yeah.”

We climbed up the rickety staircase warily, our feet teetering on each narrow plank of wood, slowly creeping up its thousand steps.

“Here we go,” said Izzy in an elated voice.
“Red Cap!”

“Shhh,” I said, stopping mid-step on the steps, “did you hear that?”

A low growl echoed throughout the tower. Izzy flashed her beam of light toward the statue of the Bloody Baron. The pike’s tip began to ooze with blood, gradually stripping away the hard stone, its red liquid slithered down the pike and onto its talon hand, revealing its pink flesh.

“Red cap: Butchers wayward travelers, soaking its cap into the victim’s blood to keep it alive. Despite its iron-clad boots, Red Caps are fast as lightning. Weaknesses,” Izzy paused, “unknown.”

A deep scratchy voice crawled into our ears from below, “
Mmm
…so sweet.”

“Run!”

My heart thundered inside my chest as I raced up the tight staircase, the tips of my boots barely touching the steps, bouncing up into the air before the other one landed,
leaping
from sole to sole. Blane and Izzy ran behind me at a quickened pace.

“Blane,” cried Izzy, one of the steps split in two, collapsing beneath her feet, her torso wedged between two steps, her legs hanging loosely below the staircase, “get me out!”

I made an about-face, catching Blane’s intense eyes. “Go on, lass,” he said, “make it to the top!”

I sprinted as fast as I could, hurdling up the steep steps, hoping that the Bloody Baron hadn’t slaughter Izzy yet.

♦♦♦

Izzy

Crap
!
I said to myself, figures that I’d turn into the cheese in the rat’s trap. Nah, scratch that, I’m the piece of meat in the lion’s den at the Bronx Zoo!

“Blane!”
I screamed, it seemed for the hundredth time, “get me out of here!” I had just jumped onto one of the warped wooden planks when it gave out, splintering into a million pieces, my boots punching through the step along with my body. I was stuck.

I could hear the scraping of metal, flogging the staircase. It could only mean one thing: The Bloody Baron had fully transformed from stone into living flesh. What’s with these dang faeries flipping from stone to flesh, anyway?

“Blane!”
I hollered again, wiggling my body around, pushing my body weight up with my hands, still lodged between two wooden planks. Two burly hands hooked under my armpits, hauling me out, laying me down onto the solid wood steps.

Blane didn’t miss a beat. He spun around and began ascending the stairs three by three, racing ahead of me, chasing after her royal highness.

I rose onto my feet, wobbly, trying to climb up the steps as fast as I could, but it was too late.

“Sweet blood,” the Bloody Baron growled behind me.

I slowly pivoted my body around to face the Bloody Baron. He stood hunched over on the steps, snarling, blood trickling from his cap, seething, aching to catch his prey. Out of the corner of my eyes, I spied the thick rope from the pulley.

The Bloody Barron narrowed his red eyes on me. “Sweet blood,” he snarled, flapping his lips in an animalistic voice, his pike lunging toward my chest.

I leapt over the banister in one quick swoop, my leather jacket rippling through the damp air, hooking my hands onto the braided rope and wrapping my whole body around it.

The Bloody Baron paused for a moment, sniffing the musty air with his hairy nostrils, and proceeded to clamber up the staircase, pounding his iron-clad boots into the warped steps. 

I knew he was going after Anabel.

I jerked my knee up, nearly losing the firm grip on the rope, my fingers fumbling at my boot, and then sliding out the bone knife I got (wink, wink) from Vyx.

I took in a sharp deep breath. I couldn’t believe I was going to do this for her royal highness, of all people! I gritted my teeth. The cold blade stung as I sliced it across the palm of my hand.

“You want blood, Baron?” I called aloud, scooping up a small amount onto the steel blade. I swung over to the edge of the banister and smeared a glob of my blood onto the splintering railing, and swung back to the center of the tower. “We are sisters, after all! I should taste just as good or even better!” Who was I kidding? I knew I tasted better than her royal highness.

The Bloody Baron zipped down the stairs, harnessing a desire to quench his thirst, his bony finger skimmed through my luscious red fluid, his fingertip drenched in my juice as he slid it into his grimy mouth, lighting up his eyes, painting a twisted grin across his sullen face. “So sweet,” he murmured, “sweeter than sweet…”

“I have been known to be the sweeter one,” I joked nonchalantly.

He turned to me, standing on the edge of the banister, hissing, stabbing his weapon at me, wanting to tap me like a
kegger
and get drunk off my own special brand of Jamba juice. I dodged out of its way, swinging from side to side, throwing my weight back and forth.

“Blane!”
I screamed again for the thousandth time. I looked up as I swayed on the rope like a trapeze artist from Cirque du Soleil. Finally, he poked his head out of the ledge above. “A little help, if you don’t mind?”

Blane leapt from the ledge, straddling the pulley’s counter weight rope.

I peered into the Bloody Baron’s bloodied eyes and winked. “Don’t tell mom,” I said ironically, cocking my head to the side, curling my lips into a smirk, “I’m the sweeter one.” The rope sprung upward, hoisting me toward the top of the tower. “She might not believe
youuuuu
,
” I howled with my voice trailing off.

Blane’s muscled mass whooshed past me as he repelled down to the ground floor of the tower, and I skyrocketed towards the ceiling. My body was suspended in mid-air, coiled around a thick rope with a bad stench of mildew in the air, unaware of what Blane was doing – or the Bloody Baron for that matter.