Grave Danger (30 page)

Corrigan went after his brother, ready to punch his
lights out. If he said one more thing about Clarissa he was almost
sure he would kill his brother. Ambrose stepped in to block him
from his target.

“
Everyone needs to calm down,” Maude commanded
the room. Following her husband’s lead she stepped in front of
Corrigan, blocking him from attacking Chas. She knew why Chas was
behaving so appallingly toward Corrigan. Of all the brothers, he
was closest to Corrigan and Chas felt that if Corrigan chose this
woman it would mean an end to their bond.

“
Corrigan,” she began once the room was quiet
again. “You have to understand that this isn’t easy for us. Of all
the women in the world, you had to choose her. You do make life
difficult for yourself, don’t you?”

“
I didn’t plan this,” Corrigan said through
tight lips. What had he expected from all of them, warm welcomes,
congratulations that he had finally found a reason to exist
anymore? No, they had behaved like raging animals with gnashing
teeth and claws.

“
Then give us time to adjust and don’t expect
more from us than we can give right now.”

Helen touched her husband’s shoulder, giving him a
stern frown for his childish behavior. Just because he was hurt and
upset didn’t give him the right to break Margaret Ann’s hookah
pipe. She rather liked the thing. It was indeed a rather
interesting conversation piece.

She moved away from him to stand next to Corrigan,
placing a hand on his left bicep. “If she is what you want, then
I’m happy for you Cor. No one deserves to share their existence
with someone more than you.” Helen stepped back to stand next to
her husband, giving his hand a swat when he tried to touch her. He
was in for it later when they got home.

Corrigan was torn between hurting his family more
and going after what he had secretly wanted all his life. He met
his eldest brother’s sympathetic look. Even if Ambrose stepped in
and made them decide, he knew it wouldn’t change his mind; or his
heart.

“
Go,” Ambrose said. He inclined his head to
the closed door. “She’s waiting just outside the door. Your young
woman already thought us monsters, now she has proof.” He turned
his attention to each of his brothers and sisters. “If we can’t be
civil amongst ourselves, what hope is there for anyone else to
believe we’re not animals in disguise?”

Corrigan found Clarissa standing just outside the
door, her face reading sad as she looked up at him. With one last
look at his family, he followed her out into the hallway, closing
the door securely behind him.

“
They don’t like me, do they?”

He cupped her pale cheek before responding. “Give
them time. They’ll come around to the idea.”

Clarissa gave him a tentative smile, but inside she
had her doubts. The surer she was becoming of her own feelings for
Corrigan, the surer she was that nothing could come of them.

Chapter 16-

“
Is there a reason you chose an attic for a
bedroom?” Clarissa remarked as she wandered around the surprisingly
spacious above stairs attic in the main house.

They had gone to his room but not before they had
the privilege to watch from the security of the far end of the long
hallway as his family exited the parlor room, heading to their own
homes and rooms. None looked to where Corrigan and Clarissa stood
quietly watching, nor did any of them speak as they left the main
house. Ambrose and Maude had chosen to remain inside the parlor.
The door closed and locked in the wake of everyone’s departure.

Corrigan sat down heavily on his wrought iron bed in
the corner. He watched warily as Clarissa took her time walking
about his room, picking up objects as she passed them. He then
noticed her back-pack which he’d seen she had tossed onto a wicker
chair by his wooden chest near the end of the bed.

He reached for it just as Clarissa picked up a horse
hair paint brush among many he kept in an old empty paint can. She
studied it curiously as well as the stacked canvases he had leaning
against the attic windows and along the floor. While she was
distracted nosing about his room he thought to see what she would
carry about in an old ratty looking back-pack.

“
I don’t need a lot of space and I’ve never
been one to get too attached to owning things,” he said, answering
her question. His family had posed a similar question when he’d
asked to have the attic instead of his own home on the complex.
He’d declined the offer without really giving them a reason
why.

Clarissa had packed some strange objects inside her
back-pack including a box of matches and a set of colored candles.
There were also some books on mythological creatures and what
looked to him like a box of rocks. Then at the very bottom, wrapped
in a bit of fabric was an object that stoked his curiosity.

Corrigan pulled back the fabric from the small
swathed object revealing a tiny dagger with a blade several inches
shorter in length than his hand. It didn’t look very menacing, nor
could he imagine it causing much damage to an enemy. Pulling more
of the fabric away he revealed the rest of it. He could see the
detailed design on the handle had a macabre style, a tiny silver
skull at the butt of the handle. An expletive forced its way out of
his mouth.

He quickly dropped the tiny dagger wanting to get as
far away from it as possible. It had been many, many years since
he’d seen such a deadly dagger and it was all he could do not to
throw the cursed thing into the ocean.

Clarissa heard the curse and turned in time to see
Corrigan drop something onto the floor next to his bed. She saw the
back-pack unzipped on the bed next to him and knew at once what
he’d found inside it.

“
What did you do?” she asked as she came to
kneel on the floor reaching for the dagger that lay half way under
the bed. Before she could grab it, though, he grasped her about the
shoulders bringing her onto the bed next to him.

“
What the hell are you doing with that thing?”
he barked into her astonished face.

Clarissa looked up at him wide-eyed, surprised by
his sudden anger. “I found it in Mrs. Connor’s house. She had it
lying on a bit of velvet inside a case. Did it hurt you? You
shouldn’t go through other people’s things without asking.”

He shook her, for a moment not caring if he hurt
her. “Who is this Mrs. Connors and what is she? Does she have
others like it?”

“
Corrigan,” she said, trying not to get angry
by his harsh treatment of her. “Stop squeezing my arms.” She was
pleased when he loosened his grip, but he didn’t let go. “Mrs.
Connors is the woman I’m staying with until the community finishes
my house. She’s one of the S.S. and I don’t know if there are other
ones like it. It’s the only one I found in the case.”

“
Do you know what it is?” he questioned,
watching her closely to see if she was lying.

Clarissa shook her head.

He grumbled several more unflattering words while he
bent down and retrieved the dagger from the floor. Holding it
carefully by the handle, using the bit of fabric to keep from
touching it with his skin, he showed it to her.

“
This little dagger is about the only thing in
this world that can put me back in my grave,” he said calmly,
though she could see by the set of his mouth and the bitter edge to
his eyes that he wasn’t feeling very calm at the moment. “This is
an instrument of death, not just to me, but to every paranormal
infestation on this planet. That includes you as well.”

Clarissa touched the silver handle where the deathly
grinning skull looked up at her. The moment she touched its handle
it began to warm beneath her fingers, causing Corrigan to drop it
again, fisting his hands as if he’d hurt himself.

“
I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for his hand
to see if the dagger had done any damage to his skin. Holding his
palm out to inspect the skin, she noticed a dark blistering over
his inner wrist. She knew the dagger hadn’t touched him there, but
all the same she could see the outline of a skull on the tanned
skin.

Clarissa rubbed her thumb over the spot, hoping to
soothe the burn with her cooler skin. Looking up she caught his
intense stare.

“
You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t
you?” he said gravely.

She shook her head, bringing his wrist to her mouth
where she placed a gently kiss over his wrist. “I won’t let
anything happen to you, Corrigan. I think I’m beginning to
understand you now and I couldn’t possibly let you back into the
grave until I fully figure you out.”

She made a mischievous smile before she playfully
bit his wrist. A laugh was forced out of him despite his resolve to
remain angry. Clarissa was glad to see he wasn’t always so moody
and that if given the right push could step out from under that
cloak of despair that he always wore.

He brushed his thumb over her smiling bottom lip and
she couldn’t help but open her mouth and bit him again. Corrigan
didn’t seem to mind and instead of pulling back at the bite he held
his thumb still as if enjoyed her teeth on his skin.

Clarissa licked away the teeth marks she had placed
on his thumb before pulling back. She had never before had the urge
to bite someone. She wasn’t the one who was known for biting
people, he was. However, for some reason she had the purely sinful
idea of taking little bites of his delicious warm flesh all over
him.

Corrigan’s iridescent blue eyes held a spark of
something that she couldn’t quite put a name to. It was a look of
passion and of longing for something he wasn’t quite sure should be
his. It poured into eyes, windows into the soul of a man who rarely
glimpsed the light of happiness.

Clarissa felt a strong pull inside her chest where
her heart had once beat. With him near it almost felt like it did.
She knew it was his heart that beat so strongly, could hear it as
it made its rhythmic cadence. It beat for him and it beat for her;
it beat for them.

He took her hand, placing it just over his chest
where the pounding of his heart seemed to actually beat instead of
lull inside his chest cavity. For her it would beat; forever if
need be. Her fingers touched the warm skin where his shirt was left
unbuttoned and at her touch he felt that light inside grow ever
more.

She gazed at her fingers as they made contact with
what she now knew was the missing piece of herself. It was a
startling revelation, but with it brought a breath of terror to
steal up her spine warning her that all this could easily be taken
away.

Unable to stop himself, Corrigan leaned down and
placed a hesitant kiss on her slightly parted lips. Unlike the
harsh and punishing kiss he’d given her before, this one was meant
to soothe her as well as himself. She was a danger to him as much
as he was to her, but when his lips were on hers and the light of
her immortal soul swept through him all that was forgotten; for a
time.

Several minutes later a scratch was heard coming
from the far wall and was followed by the appearance of a large
black head. It poked its way through the hinged door in the wall,
its red penetrating eyes staring at the couple on the bed.

Corrigan pulled back at the sound, turning to watch
his dog, Archú, as he padded over on his large black paws to sit on
his hind legs at their feet. The dog tilted its head, an
intelligent gleam in its red eyes as it studied Clarissa.

Clarissa and the black dog watched each other as if
sizing one another up. She had never seen such an animal and knew
that it wasn’t any ordinary black dog. No dog had eyes like this
one and its massive paws were likely as big around as her face.

Corrigan said something to the dog in a language she
didn’t understand. At once the dog plopped down on its black
stomach, its head resting on its enormous paws that had razor sharp
claws that could easily slice through bone. It made a deep whining
sound in its throat, but remained on the floor.

“
What kind of dog is that?” It continued to
watch her closely as if trying to figure her out. It opened its
mouth to yawn and she got a good look at its deadly set of vicious
looking teeth.

“
He’s a black dog,” Corrigan answered as he
reached for a tin of dog biscuits he kept in an old night stand by
the bed. One of the legs was broken and a stack of books kept it
level on the floor.

Throwing a treat to the dog for his good behavior in
front of a stranger, Clarissa watched as the dog leapt to his feet,
catching the biscuit in his mouth. He then trotted off to a pile of
horse blankets in the corner where he flopped down and went to
sleep.

Putting the tin back in the drawer he caught
Clarissa watching the dog as it slept in the corner. He had to keep
the biscuits hidden or Archú would eat the entire container making
him sick.

“
They originated in Northern England,” he
said, knowing she was curious to know more about his pet. “People
thought that if you made contact with one of them you would be
struck dumb and die. He’s pretty friendly though as long as you
feed him regularly. He comes to mooch off me from time to time.
There’re few left of them in the world and I only know of two
wandering around the State of Florida.”

“
Really, who owns the other one?” Except for
those glowing red eyes and the fact that he was by far the largest
breed of dog she had ever seen, he was very well behaved, maybe
even cute.

Clarissa had seen on the blood red collar around his
furry neck, the name Corrigan had given him engraved on a plate in
the shape of a tombstone. Archú, it was a name that translated as
Hound of Slaughter. It was an appropriate name for a flesh-eater to
give his dog and an accurate name for a black dog.