Unlocking Adeline (Skeleton Key) (5 page)

“For what, Dad? What’s going on? Please tell me none of this is real. They were stories, right? You were just telling me stories!”

He doesn’t speak. He dips his head in shame. “Dad, you said—you said in your stories, that the only way to return home is if the magical skeleton key appeared for you. But… but it would only appear for the princess. How did you get home?” I sound like a looney toon asking such things. I dare not admit any of this is happening, but if tidbits of my dad’s story are playing out, then that means…

“Did the key appear?” I ask, my eyes going wider.

He continues to weep. “I’m so sorry. I had to, Addie Bear. I had to use it. Yer mom. She was so sick. The doctors weren’t helping her. She was dying. And I couldn’t let her die. I know they would come for ye. I had to make a choice.”

“To save Mom.”

He nods.

“Then I don’t understand. Why is he here?”

“She doesn’t know, does she, Richard? Ye deny yer daughter the right to know her future? Her destiny?” Hulk’s anger sets a chill to the room. He takes a menacing step toward my father.

“No, that’s untrue. She knows.” He turns to me, guilt pouring from his eyes.

“Dad, I know what?” I plead to my dad as he dips his head.

“Tell me!” I raise my voice, my heart beating like mad.

Tears are streaming down his face, “The skeleton key appeared for ye, on yer nineteenth birthday. It came for ye, and I wasn’t ready to let ye go. Yer my little girl. I promised I was going to tell ye, but I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t let them take ye.” He pauses, choking up on his words, but the man glares at him to continue, “Instead of guiding ye home, I took it. I knew if I used the key to see the sorcerer of Wren, she could save yer mom.”

I’m having trouble keeping up. “And that’s why Mom suddenly got better? You got what you wanted from the
sorcerer
.”

“Yes. But I also lost something, too. I lost ye.” His words throw me off guard. Shock me, even.

“Dad, how did you lose me?” He shakes his head. Lowering his eyes back to the ground.

“I was seen. He saw me.” We both look to the man standing in our living room.

“Him.” I confirm to my father.

“Lockelan MacCowen. The first Prince of Wren. I recognized those eyes right away. Ye look just like yer father.”

“And?” Lockelan takes a lethal step forward.

My dad cowers, unable to make eye contact with either of us, but he answers. “Because ye bear the crescent moon in yer vision. I saw it that night. Yer family is bonded to mine.”

“And please, do remind me what happens when a family goes unbounded, Richard?” His anger rising.

“They are unable to make Court. If the chosen are unable to wed with the bonded family, then that lineage suffers. Wren is without their next King and Queen. There is no sound government to rule. The whole entire land suffers.”

I gasp at that. I look from Lockelan, who is staring down at my father as if his looks can kill, and my dad, who is unable to lift his eyes to meet his fate. What does all this mean? For my dad? For me? For Lockelan and his family? “Dad, what have you done?”

“Yer father abandoned his village is what he has done. He was a warrior in his time. The best. He was given the supreme privilege to travel through realms to gather information and supplies to better our lands. Until he never returned.” Turning to my father. “Love, was it? Love for a woman who holds not a single ounce of Wren blood in her? What did ye think of when ye knew the damage ye would cause by never returning? What did ye think of yer betrothed when ye never returned?”

Wait, what? “Wait, you were married before Mom?”

“NO! No. I was betrothed. Engaged. It was an arranged marriage. It was not for love.”

“And so since ye were not in love, ye risked an entire Kingdom!” Lockelan bellows out, ready to attack.

I jump in front of my dad, blocking him. “Don’t hurt my dad,” I beg, but he quickly dismisses me.

“Ye left a woman bereaved for a husband. And ye left a village with no future queen. No possible heir.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lockelan. I know what I did was wrong.”

“Richard McAllister, I am here to claim what is rightfully ours by the power of Wren. As presented, ye birthed a daughter, first known princess of the McAllister family. This is our right to take ownership of her and suit her with the chosen son of Wren.”

Oh, hell no
. This is where I draw the line. “I’m not anyone’s property! You can’t just take me. Dad! Tell him!” I turn to my father, who refuses to make eye contact with me. “Dad, tell him!”

“Lockelan, please don’t do this. I’m sorry for what I have done. But please, Adeline is not bred for life in Wren. She is not one of us.”

Lockelan steps closer, grabbing for my wrist. I am not as quick, so he latches on tightly. He turns my wrist, almost snapping it. “Tell me she is not one of us. She is half of ye. Tell me the birthmark of the crescent moon on her wrist is not telling enough for ye?” My eyes go wide. I throw my eyes to my wrist at the faded birthmark.
What?
It can’t be.

“Please! Don’t take her. She is my only daughter!” My dad begs, trying to stand but is pushed back down to the couch.

“Ye chose this path. Ye chose to return. Ye should have given the key to yer daughter when it came for her. But ye are a selfish man, Richard. Ye have wasted a lot of my time. And now it is our right to claim what is ours.” He turns and faces me. “It’s time. Say goodbye.”

I take a few shaky steps back. “You’re nuts. I’m not leaving with you. I don’t care about some old ancient promise. You can find a Stepford bride elsewhere!” I turn to run, but he catches me. Pulling me to him, he lifts me up, my feet leaving the ground. I begin to scream, hitting him in rock hard chest while my dad sobs, begging for forgiveness. From me or Lockelan, I’m not sure.

“Put me down, you big ol’ jerk!”

“That I cannot do, princess.
In winter’s light, for one god to unite, show me the portal of Wintesfill blight.
” I hear him chant a few more non-English words and with a blast of wind, a gust of color appears in the center of our living room. My mouth drops open as I become stone still at the vision before me. In front of my eyes, a tornado of iridescent appears like a blast in the solar system. Gaping at the color of fog coming together, I realize it is forming into a door.

“What in the…” I exhale, unable to grasp what I am witnessing. He twists me around, giving me a little push. “Now go,” he demands pointing towards the door.

Nope. “No way, man.” I am
not
going through that.
Wake up, Addie. Wake up.
This has to be a dream. I did not just witness a door magically appear in my living room, because
that’s
impossible. It’s when I am swiftly lifted off my feet and over Locke’s shoulders that I kick back into action. I begin jerking and banging on his back to let me down.

“Aye, ye are. And if ye don’t stop kicking, the second we get home I am going to tie ye up and gag ye until ye learn to be a good little girl.”

“You big ugly ogre, put me down! DAD!” I scream and scream and scream. The closer he gets to that glowing door, the more I panic. I’m struggling to breathe. I know if we walk through that opening, I am done for.

“No! Please, take me! Take me, please!” My dad cries.

“Dad! Let me go, you beast!” I yell, taking my fists and beating on his back, fighting to get free. Startling me, he quickly flips me upright, sliding my body down his hard frame. My feet are barely dangling off the ground as he brings our faces together. His warm breath hits my nose as I steady my vision to connect with his. Still in his tight hold, I make contact with his frightening, but strangely familiar, eyes.
I’ve stared into these golden orbs a million times over.
But how?
Was it in my dreams?
So many nights after I would lay my head down and lose my day to sleep, I would dream about a man. The one who would come for me. Every morning, when I woke, I would fight to keep the image with me but his face would fade, and so would the emotion that I felt when he came for me. An acknowledgment deep inside awakens in me.
This cannot be real
. I break our connection, trying to break from his clutch, back to struggling in his hold. His grip only strengthens.

“That is yer last warning, sweet girl. My patience is running quite thin with ye.”

“Well then, maybe you should let me go,” I say, trying to act brave. I bring my eyes back to his, silently begging the strange feeling inside me to go away.

“Now why would I do that? I am becoming quite fond of yer fiery mouth and the way yer tight little arse keeps wiggling in my arms. There isn’t a chance now I would even think about letting ye go.”

It’s then I notice he is right. Our bodies are pressed tightly together, and his heat is radiating into me. His chest feels tight. Pure muscle, I would imagine. He bends down so his lips are brushing my earlobe. “Ye are just making it better for me, princess,” he hums. My eyes close, the familiar scent of spice and leather assaulting my nostrils.
Stop, Addie.
I’m starting to scare myself. You don’t dream of someone, and then they show up in your house. I rip my eyes away from him, breaking our connection. I don’t do myself any favors though by staring at the beating pulse in his neck.

“Enough ogling, it’s time to go.”

With not a second to spare, he walks through the door.

Land of Wren, Lifetimes ago.

I
wake up with a start. My body flies upward, and the dizziness sends me straight back down. I grab for my head, in hopes my brain will stop spinning. Once the dizziness fades, I make another attempt to sit up. Slowly this time, I raise my body to an upward position and take in my surroundings. I’m in a room. A weird room. Nothing that screams Ikea has been here. The air is different. Heavier almost. The smell is nothing like my own living room.

And then I remember.

“That big ol jerk!” I breathe as I look around. Lying in the center of a gigantic bed, I brush my hands over the finely woven material. The furniture in direct view is beautiful, but ancient looking. A thick wooden dresser sits against the wall, a chest in the adjoining corner. As my mind begins to clear, I slide off the bed to the wooden floor, cold under my bare toes.
Where are my shoes?
I scan the rest of my body and realize I have been partially undressed. I’m missing my hoodie and am just in my tank top and jeans, my socks and shoes removed. I scan the room once more and realize I’m alone. I walk toward the gigantic wooden door and turn the knob.

Locked.

“Son of a biscuit.” I pull at the knob harder, until I exhaust all energy. I take one big breath and with everything I’ve got, I begin to scream.

“Someone let me out of here! Help!”

As I hit close to eternity in yelling, I give up.
There has to be another way out of here
. I investigate the room and out the window, which, “Holy cow.”
Where the hell am I?
Seeing that I am very high off the ground, I view the outside. The vibrant colors of summer fill the mountainscape.
Wasn’t it just practically winter?
I think to myself, as I smell the fresh air and blooming flowers from the garden beneath. Just below, I watch a bustle of life, people mingling all around the little village below. The trees as green as emeralds and the river, it’s just as I was told, the color of the bluest blue.
This isn’t… I’m not…
I quickly shut the drapes. The sounds of a key being inserted into the lock fill my eardrums, and I whip around toward the noise.
That’s my cue
. I probably don’t have much time, so I run to the door, prepared to maul whoever is on the other side and run for dear life.

The second the handle turns and the door opens, I pounce. I rev up the football moves Dad used to teach me as a kid. I dip my shoulder downward and ram sideways into my enemy. As I make contact, I hear a squeal. A woman shrieks, while a full tray of food goes flying out of her hands. Hot liquid spills from the containers, sending scalding water down my back. The woman loses her balance and falls backward, tossing the tray at me, a spread of what smells like jams and cream cheese flying, hitting me in my chest. It’s only when I attempt to make another move that I slip on the wet floor that I have caused, falling along with her, and straight on my ass.

“Jesus, what in God’s name is going on up here?” That familiar voice booms. I look up to see very broad shoulders, a frown over his tight jaw, and his thick muscled arms crossed over his chest.

“Ellie, what is going on here?” he barks again.

“Sir Locke, I was bringing the Miss her breakfast. When the door opened and she attacked me.”
Sir Locke? Give me a break.
I’d also love to deny her claim, but I kind of did just attack her. I look at Ellie, a plump older woman dressed in a white dress, now feeling somewhat bad. She is also soaked and covered in what looks like raw salmon slices. Sick.

“Jesus. Well, get off the floor,”
Sir Locke
it is, huffs, putting his hand out to who I assume is the maid. He attempts to help her but she slips on the floor, causing her to fall back down. Locke grabs for the doorframe trying to stay upright, but with Ellie’s thick size, she manages to pull him with her. His knees buckle and he goes down. I try and avoid the collision, but it’s also too late. Before I have a chance to move out of the way of his descending body, his weight covers mine, taking me fully onto my back. I feel his lips against my neck, and if I’m not mistaken, as his face is being smothered in my hair, he inhales.