Love Everlastin' Book 3 (32 page)

Air currents helped her to
soar downward. She saw the two men break apart. One lashed out with
a long-bladed knife and the other fell back clutching his chest.
Then the first figure, who was dressed entirely in black, lunged
atop the other—Winston, she realized with terrifying
clarity.

With the agility and speed
of an eagle, she flew off toward the oak by the main road where she
quickly gathered twigs she broke off from one of the laden
branches. She sliced through the air back toward the men, and
hovered but a moment to analyze the situation.

Winston had just bucked his
assailant off him and was attempting to scramble away, crabbing
meager inches on his feet and hands. The assailant stood. Moonlight
glinted off the polished blade, which he held raised but downward
in a threatening manner. Alby scurried to Winston's side,
intermittently weeping and shouting at the boogeyman to leave them
alone.

For what she planned to do,
Deliah needed more space between man and boy, and the stranger. She
swooped downward, cutting a path close to the man in black. He
cried out in surprise and lashed out with the knife, missing her
right wing by a harrowing margin. Again she dive-bombed him. She
caught him on the chest with her bare heels, sending him reeling
backward for several feet before he fell on his butt, cursing and
snarling threats.

Hovering mere inches above
the ground she blew on the twigs clutched in her hands. Blue mist
spilled past her lips and sprinkled the twigs. Then she tossed them
on the ground midway between the stranger who was getting to his
feet, and her self-appointed charges on the ground behind
her.

The instant the twigs hit
the ground, countless branches rose from the slender segments. They
rapidly entwined as they grew upward and outward, forming an
eight-foot-wide, seven-foot-high wall, cutting off the stranger's
access.

For several moments, he
attempted to breach the barrier, slashing the branches with his
knife and gurgling with rage at the futility of his actions. When
he finally ran off beyond the carriage house, Deliah's thundering
heart began to slow. She lowered her feet to the ground and
turned.

The sight that greeted her
nearly gave her flight, but she refused to hide anymore.

Alby's eyes were wide with
awe as he peered up at her from Winston's side. Winston's
expression, on the other hand, pained her. There was also awe in
the depths of his eyes, but also horror and disgust etched into his
face. As much as she had tried to imagine his reaction to her true
form, this was worse than her grimmest musings.

"Are ye hurt,
Alby?"

He rapidly shook his
head.

"Winston?"

"He's bleeding bad," Alby
choked, turning his gaze to the red stain spreading across
Winston's chest. "He got cut by the boogeyman."

Deliah knelt to Winston's
left. He was on his back, teetering on the elbows propping him up.
His eyes were wide, staring at her through rapidly blinking
eyelids. His mouth was agape, his face gaunt and pale.

"Winston, can ye tell me how
hurt ye be?"

His head barely moved in a
negative response.

"Alby, are ye steady enough
to run ahead to the house. I'll need help wi' Winston."

Gulping, Alby nodded. He
regarded the seemingly vast distance to the front doors then
briefly eyed the wall of branches. "I'll get Uncle Roan," he said
and, scrambling onto his feet, waddled off toward the
house.

Winston watched him for
several moments, but returned his gaze to Deliah when she began to
unbutton his wool shirt. He heard her gasp then looked down to see
that his chest was covered in blood.

"Ye will need a fast
packin’," she said breathlessly, meeting his gaze. "Can ye
walk?"

He nodded, but when he
attempted to move, he fell completely on his back.

"No time to test yer legs,"
she said, and slipped her arms beneath his back and behind his
knees. "I canna walk ye to the house, but I can fly wi'
ye."

Hoarse breaths came from
Winston when she lifted him into her arms and cast off as if he
didn't weigh a third of his actual weight. Freezing air buffeted
them during the brief flight, and he found he had to watch the
doors, not her, if he wanted to keep his stomach from spilling its
contents.

She lit upon the stoop with
the grace of a butterfly. "Can ye open the door?"

Numb, he reached out, turned
the knob and pushed open one side of the doors. Walking, she
carried him through the greenhouse, the strain of her burden
evident on her features. But strain couldn't diminish her
determination to get him out of the cold. One of the inner doors
was left open and she stepped through it and into the main
hall.

"Put me down," he demanded
shakily. "I'll be damned if I'm seen being carried like a
child."

With a grunt, she eased him
to his feet and helped him to prop himself against the
wall.

"Sweet Jesus," murmured a
voice behind her.

She turned to find Lachlan
standing in the doorway of the library, a blank expression on his
face, and a dull look in his bloodshot eyes.

"This Scotch has a maist
promisin’ kick," he muttered in a slur, then fell hard on his
buttocks. He sat with his legs spread, his arms limp at his sides,
and his head bobbing on a neck too weak to hold it up. A moment
later, he keeled over backward and lay in unconscious
oblivion.

Frowning in disapproval,
Deliah tore her gaze from him and met Winston's scowling
perusal.

"Aye, I be a fay. A fairy.
One disparagin’ word from ye, Winston Ian Connery, and I'll turn ye
into a nubby green toad!"

"Wha' the?"

The voice came from Roan,
who had just stepped onto the first floor landing. His shock at
seeing Deliah's wings outweighed Alby's story of a boogeyman
wounding Winston.

Deliah bristled beneath what
she felt was unwarranted fascination with her wings. Rearing back
her shoulders, she haughtily demanded, "Carry him to his room. I
must fetch the makings for a healin’ patch."

Giving a brusque,
disbelieving shake of his head, Roan maneuvered until he had
Winston's left arm firmly across his broad shoulders.

"I can walk!" Winston
shouted furiously, stopping his host from lifting him into his
arms. "Wi' some help, I...can...walk."

"Help you have," Roan
murmured, his gaze transfixed on Deliah's face.

"I'll no' take long," she
said. Her wings pressing together at her back, she ran back into
the night.

Twice Winston nearly passed
out before finding himself reclining on the welcomed comfort of his
mattress.

"Wha' happened?" Roan
probed, drawing one of the blankets up to Winston's waist. "How did
you get cut?"

"The Phantom. He was
assaulting Alby. Tried to stop him."

Roan leveled a look of
horror on Winston. "You said he was dead."

"I was wrong." Winston
groaned when pain radiated from his chest wound to all other parts
of his body. "The bastard got away."

"Deliah?"

"Stopped him from finishing
his work on us," Winston wheezed. He wanted to probe the area of
his chest he knew was lacerated, but he was afraid he would
discover the wound was fatal. Instead, he went on, "You saw? You
saw the wings on her back?"

"Aye, and I'll wager I've
never see a mair peculiar sight in ma life."

"A fairy," Winston murmured,
his eyelids closing halfway as he resisted an urge to sleep. "I
never would have guessed. Never in ma wildest fantasies thought
such a thing could be possible. A fairy...."

Laura entered the room, her
eyes sleep-laden and bloodshot. "What's going on?"

Beth dashed into the room,
appearing fully awake, but alarmed. She joined Laura and Roan at
the bedside and grimaced when she saw Winston's chest. "What
happened?"

"Fairies," Winston
murmured.

"You know?" Beth asked
incredulously.

"What?" asked Laura, puzzled
by the strange interaction.

"Deliah," said Roan softly.
"She has wings."

"Right," Laura said wryly
and frowned when his serious expression remained. She glanced at
Winston. "Did Deliah do this to you?"

"See! See! I told you so!"
Alby blustered as he led his sleepy brothers into the room and to
Winston's bed. Pointing all the while to Winston's chest, he added,
"And the boogeyman whipped out a sword and slashed him wide
open!"

"Alby," Winston groaned,
trying to make light of his predicament. "It was a knife, no' a
sword."

"It was big as a sword,"
Alby insisted.

Laura turned a bit green
after sitting alongside Winston and inspecting the gaping wound. It
was nearly three inches long and ran aslant the lower part of his
right pectoral. "We need to get him to a hospital."

"I agree," said Roan, unable
to take his gaze off the wound. "But the cars are iced in. I can
run to the Lauders and hope to hell they have a phone."

"Run to the neighbors?" Beth
asked incredulously. "Even cutting across the fields, which are
buried in deep snow, will take forever."

"We need help!"

"I'll be fine," said Winston
but grimaced when he attempted to move. His skin had a gray pallor
and his eyes were underscored with dark circles. "We've got to get
to a phone and contact the local police. The Phantom won't go far.
During our struggle, I caught segments o' his thoughts. He's after
Laura."

Winston observed Laura's
shocked look and gripped one of her hands. "We won't let him near
you. I promise you, Laura, I'll take the bastard ou' if it's the
last thing I do."

"No' in yer condition." Roan
clapped a hand on the back of his neck and sighed wearily. "It's
too late to make it to Shortby's and use his phone. You need a
doctor and we need help wi' this Phantom. Damn me! I should have at
least gotten a cellular phone."

"Don't," Beth said kindly,
placing a hand on Roan's shoulder. "In this house, there is no such
thing as being prepared." She glanced at the boys and managed a
smile. "It's a little late for you three to be up, isn't
it?"

"Nope," Kahl said, straining
to see Winston's bloodied chest more closely. "We're wide awake
now."

"It's time for—" Laura began
but gasped when something flew into the room and headed for the
bed. Roan and Beth stepped back, startled and in awe of the
four-inch wonder hovering at the left side of the bed. There was no
mistaken it was a shrunken Deliah, only a Deliah with translucent
wings fluttering at her back. She held something in her tiny hands,
but it was too small for anyone to make out. With her head, she
gestured for Roan and Beth and the boys to move back more. When
they did, she dipped back her head and closed her eyes, as if going
into a moment of intense concentration. Then, as she released a
long breath, she grew before their eyes until she was again
five-foot-six inches tall. The wings remained intact, opalescent
shimmers of blue and green. A pale silver web-work of veins were
now clearly defined, and pulsed with her heart rate.

"What a babe!" Kevin
exclaimed appreciatively.

The adults ignored him, too
fascinated by her appearance to be distracted. Deliah's hair,
nightgown, face and arms, had smears of dirt and small clumps of
snow.

"Twas difficult to reach one
o' the roots," Deliah said as she sat alongside Winston. Her wings
lightly fluttered, but she didn't appear to notice them. Nor did
she seem aware of the wary look in Winston's eyes. Her
concentration was focused on a gnarled root sitting atop her left
palm. "The snow be verra deep by the oak." Now she looked into
Winston's pale eyes and her features took on the bleak look of a
woman disillusioned with life. "Swallow yer disgust o' me," she
rasped chidingly, her voice hollow, defensive. "Ye must focus on
the magic for it to work. I canna do this alone."

Glancing at Beth, she mildly
ordered, "We be in need o’ a wet, warm towel. While I summon the
magic, I ask ye to clean around the wound."

"Forget it," Winston bit
out.

Deliah eyed him impatiently.
"I can conjure up vines to hold ye down. Dinna mock ma abilities,
Winston. I be stressed and nervous as it is, and need ma wits abou'
me to carry this through."

"You're not using magic on
me!"

"Winston," Beth
chided.

Deliah stiffly drew back her
shoulders, her look daring him to further defy her. "Ye would make
a fine toad, ma friend. Now, do I proceed wi' the healin’ or
ventin’ ma frustration in a mair imaginative manner?"

For a moment, Winston glared
at her, then grumbled, "Get on wi' it."

Deliah shifted her gaze to
the root. She placed her right hand atop the left, enclosing the
root between her warming skin. In a low, singsong voice, she
chanted:

"Root o' life, ma heart does
hold,

Grant me the healing o' ma
clan's creed.