Guardian of the Moon Pendant (9 page)

Think of Edgar! Think of…

♦

Blane escorted me into the living room, a soft amber light burned within the logs, his strong hand cradling the small of my back. Granny’s phantomlike spirit wisped through the wall, greeting us closed lipped, her energy swelling with tendrils of neon ectoplasm, curling up behind her.

“I see you’ve met, Lainahwyn,” stated Granny, floating behind a squishy chair, her voice agitated. “Mindless girl, what were you thinking?”

“What was she?” I asked, hoping not to answer Granny’s question.

“A Baobhan Sith,” declared Blane, “a vampiric faery that haunts these lands.”

“I’ve never seen such a beastly thing,” I remarked, wrinkling my nose as I watched
the
chair swivel around.

She sat nestled between its cushions, legs crossed, picking at her finger nails, her arm coiled up in a sling, her face still bruised, tinted with soft hues of yellow and pink, her lower lip swollen with a crusty scab. “Your royal highness has returned,” said Izzy mockingly, rising to her feet.

“Izzy?”
I snapped my mouth closed.

Izzy sauntered over to Blane, sizing him up from head to toe, a crafty grin crinkling across her face. “You even brought your own, Braveheart,” she said smugly, biting her lower lip, circling him, her fingers fondling his tartan, rubbing the material between her thumb and index finger, “kilt and all,” slowly sliding her fingertips up to his brawny arms.  “Very nice, sis,” tracing a fascinated path across his wide shoulders.

Izzy cradled Blane’s stubbly face, squishing his cheeks together, his rosy lips puckering firmly into a perfect kiss. “
Mmm
… hmm… I most definitely approve,” her hand softly patting his chiseled jaw, “beats boring Bill Gates, any day!” She whirled
around, snatching my left hand up, rolling her thumb across my ring finger. “I see you conveniently lost your engagement ring too?”

I blushed.

“The small ring the Guardian was wearing on her left finger?” asked Blane, unaffected by Izzy’s overzealous attention.

“Yeah,” commented Izzy, looking at me sideways, “that ring.”

“The Guardian put that away for safe keeping,” answered Blane, flatly.

“I bet she did.” Her eyes swept over me.

Granny hovered before us, translucent in her disembodied spirit. “Anabel, Izzy will relieve you from your duty as Guardian.”

“Oh,” I said, placing my hand on the Moon
Pendant,
both relieved and disappointed that it had to leave me.

Izzy tapped the spiraled scroll repetitively in her hand.

Curiously, I looked at her wondering where it had gone. In the back of my mind I had thought Vyx had done something with it, but there it was in her clutches.

“Lainahwyn has already marked Anabel as the Guardian,” declared Blane, brushing his arm against mine.

“Good,” answered Izzy, “we’ll use her as a decoy while I recharge the Moon Pendant.”

“The Moon Pendant can only have one Guardian,” said Blane firmly, turning to me, his penetrating gaze met my eyes, and my heart thundered within my chest.

“She didn’t want the responsibility when she was given the Dragon Scroll back in NY,” announced Izzy, holding up the ancient scroll, its parchment stained from time,
tattered
at
its ends. “It was beneath you,” echoed Izzy, eyes squinting, stabbing the scroll at my chest, “wasn’t it, Anabel?”

“Do you think I want this?” I argued. For some crazy reason everyone seemed to think I wanted the Moon Pendant and its power.  

“Don’t you?” Izzy said raising a brow at me.

I inhaled deeply through my nose. “No, take it!” I blurted out loud, my fingers fumbling at the Moon Pendant’s clasp, tugging at it, trying to pry it open, it didn’t budge. “It won’t come off!” I screamed, frantically, wedging my fingers around the thick chain, yanking it with both hands, its roots still implanted into my chest. “Granny, say the oath!”

Granny examined the pendant as I screamed, “Get it off me!” my eyes stinging with tears, “say the oath, Granny!” Kneeling to the floor
,  I
added, “I don’t want this, please.”

“I can’t, I’m dead!” Granny fumed, “You can’t have a Guardian who’s a ghost. That’s not the way it works, Anabel. I'm afraid you’re the Moon Pendant’s host for now.”

Blane hooked his arms around me, lifting me off the floor and onto my feet, his thumb wiping away my fat tears. “After the first task, lass, the pendant will regain a charge, mayhap after that, it may release you.” His baby blue eyes smiled at me.

“Exactly, how many tasks are there?”
huffed
Izzy, tossing the Dragon Scroll onto the chair and crossing her arms.

“Four,” stated Blane, “one for each element.”

“So,” I whimpered, sniffing back the tears, “I’m held hostage by this thing?”

“Yes,” answered Granny, “until it can be removed and survive on another host.”

“Another Guardian,” said Blane dutifully.

Izzy shook her head in disgust, “Always getting what you want, huh, Anabel? You’re a real smooth operator!” Her face thrust into mine, just a mere two inches away, her lower lip trembling, spraying spit into my face as she spoke, “
You-Make-Me-Sick!
”

Izzy spun around, latching onto the doorknob, floundering helplessly with it, her eyes staring at me like daggers. “And don’t think I’m going to help you charge it!” she said bitterly, heaving the door open. “I’d rather go to hell! Hell, I’d rather you go first!”
And then s
he slammed the front door shut.

Chapter 7

♦♦♦

Izzy

I slid a cigarette between my lips, its texture firm and light, a silver lighter cuffed between my palm, my thumb striking its metal wheel. It sparked wildly, igniting a steady flame. Sinful embers burned the paper’s tip as I inhaled my pain. 

Personally, I had quite enough of that one, always playing the victim when she needs to, always being the heroine when she can get away with it.

I blew out a frustrated breath of ashy air.

It didn’t take me long to figure out that Vyx was up to no good. But, once I did, I made sure I hid that scroll where he’d never find it, a special little hiding place inside the lining of my hobo purse. I had cut it out last year, when my mother insisted I show her all the contents of my bag as she scoured my room for cigarettes.

So brilliantly, I might say I took a razor blade and trimmed off the threading of the liner, making sure it was wide enough to stuff my hand into it. I sealed it up with a few hidden snaps, and then
voila
instant super secret hiding spot!

I chewed the nail polish off my thumbnail. I was still frustrated about Vyx. Serves me right, allowing myself to be finagled by that baboon. Seems I can’t get anyone good to stay in my life or to show up for that matter. But, I made sure I took a nice parting gift
from that Neanderthal, rolling my eyes down to the inside lining of my platform boots, giggling to myself as I spied his bone knife peeking out. 

I took another long drag on my ciggy and shifted my gaze up the hillside.

My eyes drifted toward the MääGord standing stones, illuminating in a purple sheath like a magnetic Mad Max Thunder dome.

What the hell is that?

Curious, I staggered up the hill, stepping over a low lying iron fence, my feet wobbling along the rocky terrain because my stupid sling was throwing me off balance. I pinched my fingers into the fabric, ripping it off in one swift yank, tossing it down to the ground, and then continuing my hike up into the MääGord standing stones.

I could see a pale lunar shape suspended within one of the stone pillars, floating all by
itself
, one for each monolith. My head craned back observing the soft bodies trapped in each stone, their ethereal bodies draped in long sheer robes and frozen in time.

“And I thought I had a rough day,” I said sarcastically, taking a long drag on my cigarette, my lips pursing and puffing out white clouds into the damp air, its smoke wafting up into the creature’s face.

Unexpectedly, its eyes popped open, knocking me back a few feet into the center of the stone circle, its moon-like eyes glowing with soft hues of blue and silver, crystal clear and fixing them straight behind me to a massive slab of stone.

The wind began to wail, carrying a soft murmur in th
e breeze from the stone faeries:
Open the portal.

Chucking my cigarette to the side, I inspected the cold monolith lying horizontal in the center of the stone circle. Deep into its stone surface was carved an epitaph, with strange symbols of a language I did not know, encircled by a massive double-winged dragon, just like the one on the Dragon Scroll.

I clenched my left torso, doubling over in pain. The whispers grew louder on the rolling wind;
Open the portal,
they murmured,
open the portal, Dragon Spell
. Their voices soon changed into a shrilling sound, piercing my ears, forcing me to clamp my hands over them. Instinctively, I ran away into the night.

Breathing heavily, I finally stopped in a clearing, surrounded by lush trees, ranged across a rocky hillside.

Soon a different voice softly began to whisper in my head. This one was soft and sweet, lulling me into an intoxicating stupor. It called to me, urging me to come to her, leading me blindly toward a dark, hollow cavity carved into a mossy mound of earth.

I didn’t know where it was coming from, but I knew the direction I should head in. Bewitched, I wandered aimlessly toward the opening, aching to see the voice that was calling me.

Appearing out of nowhere, a large hand shot out, clamping onto my forearm, wrenching me down to the ground behind a moss covered boulder.

“Is it a death wish you have, lass?” said a scruffy haired Scotsman. He glanced down at my black gloves, laced up to cover the scars on my wrists. “Aye, I see that you do. Surely entering through the front door of the demon’s cave will remedy that.”

“Demon?”
I mumbled to myself, still in a daze, her voice coaxing me in closer to see her. I rose to my feet, desiring to find her, only to have the Scotsman jerk me back down again.

“She’s in your head, lass,” he said, tapping his index finger to his temple,
and then
holding out a blue flower before me. “Here!”

“What is it?” I said crooking an eyebrow at him.

“It’s a Scottish bluebell,” he stated flatly, pushing the violet bell shaped flower toward me.

I pursed my lips to the side and grinned cockily at him. “Do you really think it’s a good time to romance a stranger?”

“Smell it!” he ordered, rattling the flower in his hand.

I obeyed, taking the bluebell from his hands and sniffed at its petals, the scent delicate with a sweet fragrance, clearing my head of the woman’s voice.

“Better?” he asked.

I blinked a few times, clearing my foggy head.
“Yeah.”

“Good,” he said, his eyes sweeping over me, checking me out.

My cheeks flushed as I looked away.

“Don’t flatter yerself, lass
,
” he said mockingly. “I just wanted to see if you had any weapons on you.”

My lips flattened. Well, now I feel like a dope.

He leaned in, his eyes fixing on mine. “Good thing the bluebells worked, lass. Or I would’ve had to smack you around a bit.” He laughed.

Great, I sighed to myself another crazy man has entered my life. I must have some sort of curse looming over my head. All of life’s
rejects,
please see Izzy MacAlpin.

The Scotsman snatched my wrist back, twisting it around, studying the leather sheath covering my wound. “Do you always hide yer past?” he asked gruffly.

“No,” I said with a deprecating laugh, snapping my arm back. “I usually run.”

His face lit up, his grimace morphing into a dimply smile, “at least you’re honest.”

The aroma of the flower tantalized my soul, raising my spirits. “You’re a real Casanova,” I said smiling coyly.

The Scotsman chortled and then tensed up quickly, hearing a rustling of leaves in the bushes. We both whipped our heads to the right, watching a strange man emerge from the edge of the forest, his hands hoisting up his trousers and fiddling with his zipper.

Frightened, my arm hooked around the Scotsman, pulling him close. He smelled of soap, whiskey and sweaty skin. I sighed. I always seemed to be attracted to
the
bad boys.

“Where have you been?” asked the Scotsman to the strange man. 

“
Ah’ve
been taking a
piss
,” said the stranger, wiggling his leg and crouching down beside us. His was definitely the scent of beer, whiskey and piss.

“You’re a real wanker,” laughed the Scotsman, slapping the man on the back. Quickly, he turned to me, his thumb gesturing to the stranger. “I’m Fergus, this here is, John.”