Vision in Faith (Legends of the North Book 3) (12 page)

"James!" Her legs moved, stumbling forward, but before she could get anywhere near him the beast's tail swiped at her. The sharp sting of its spikes pierced her skin and she screamed, falling sideways from its force. Fire burned through her veins, radiating from where it had touched her.

She screamed again as it leaned that face over her, so close she could smell its acrid breath. Saliva clung to its fangs before falling onto her skin, burning through it with a sizzle where it made contact.
 

Her screams filled the air as she saw its fangs descend towards her before everything went black.

***

James coughed and could taste the bitterness of smoke. Blinking, he felt a brief moment of panic when all he could see was blackness. After several blinks, his vision focused, and he dragged in a lungful of fresh air. He was outside, the black of the sky above him as he made out the shape of the few stars above him.

His heartbeat picked up again when he remembered why he was outside. Lifting a sweaty palm to his neck, he winced as pain shot through his chest. Slowly, he sat up, scanning the area, but he was definitely alone.

God, those eyes. Hundreds of eyes staring at him. He'd never seen anything like it and he hoped he never would again, but somehow he doubted that. Tilting his head to the side, he listened carefully. There. It was quiet, but he could hear it, what sounded like a whimper.

Standing, fragments of glass falling from his body, he glanced over his shoulder. The living room window was pretty much non-existent, just one jagged shard of glass hanging from the frame. The light from the room cast a faint glow of light around him.

He couldn't hear the whimpering noise anymore, but he heard a soft groan instead. Picking up a large stone by his feet, he wrapped his fingers around it. Stealing towards where the sound was coming from, he froze when it grew louder. Dropping the stone, he ran the last few steps and dropped to his knees.

"Vicky," he whispered. His hands hovered over her, wanting to help her but not wanting to make her wounds worse. At least he knew she was alive.
This is
my fault. My fault. My fault.
He couldn't stop the words looping through his mind.

 
He'd dragged her further into this. Why was she even at his house? He thrust his hands in his hair and gripped tightly.
This.
This was what happened when he lost control. If he'd had some self-control, kept his distance from Vicky, she wouldn't have been there, in harm's way.

If she died, it would be his fault. Had one night of mind-blowing sex really been worth her life?
Selfish prick.
He didn't think it was possible to hate himself more right then.

James wasn't sure how long he'd sat there before he felt a warm touch on his hand. He jumped at the contact, but when he looked down, Teazle lay between him and Vicky, her head on his lap, snout nuzzling at his hand.

She was shivering, and he could make out dried blood on her fur. That snapped him out of his trance.
 

Looking Vicky over, the skin around her neck was covered in blood, and what looked like burns marked her skin.

Carefully, he fastened her hand, which appeared broken, to her chest with a makeshift sling from the remnants of his T-shirt. He slid an arm under her knees and the other beneath her shoulders. Gently, he lifted her against his chest, carrying her inside and upstairs.
 

He laid her out on his bed, brushing the hair back from her forehead before placing a kiss there. He'd wanted her back in his bed, but this wasn't the way he'd imagined it.
Be careful what you wish for. Or maybe be more specific about what you wish for.
 

Removing her ripped top and shoes, he pulled the covers over her and went in search of supplies to clean her wounds.

After caring for her as best he could, James dragged a chair to the foot of the bed and sat, elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his fists as he stared at Vicky's prone body.

His breathing became louder and louder as his anger rose. They didn't even know what they were fighting, so how the hell was he supposed to know what to do? Lost in his own anger, he jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"I knocked. Called out to you too."

James dragged his gaze from Vicky to look at Matt standing beside him; he'd forgotten he'd called him. He should have known he'd come round. James looked behind Matt, but it was just the two of them.

"Emma's on her way. She was at a client site and said she'd meet me here. We'll take Teazle home with us." Matt moved closer to Vicky and asked, "How is she?"

James snorted a laugh. "She's fine and fucking dandy, can't you tell?" He raked his hand through his hair and then dropped his forehead into his hand. "I'm sorry. It's just… she's been unconscious since I found her"—James checked his phone—"ten hours ago. Whatever it was bit her neck. It's different this time though. She doesn't feel cold to the touch like Jess did."

"Or me," Matt added.

"Or you," James agreed. "It's not the same as the other attacks, and I don't know if that's a good thing or not." He leaned back in his chair, his head resting against the back of it as his eyes focused on the ceiling. He sensed Matt crouch beside him.

"We'll figure it out, James. We will. All of us, not just you. I know you think it's your place, but this is bigger than you, brother. Bigger than all of us."

James turned his gaze to Matt and simply nodded.

Chapter 13

Two days. Two torturously long fucking days and still no change. James brushed her hair back behind her ear. The burn marks had healed over, the only forward progress.
 

As he had the night before, he pressed his lips to her forehead, straightened the covers, and left the room with one backward, hopeful glance.

The clock in the living room showed eleven p.m. He knew he should just go to bed, except what was the point if he just lay there playing tug-of-war with the covers? Pouring himself a measure of Scotch from the lonely looking decanter, he sat next to the unlit fire. Crossing one ankle over his knee, he let the glass hang over the side of the chair where his arm rested.

 
Taking a sip of the liquid fire, the burn of it roused him slightly. Enough for his mind to start throwing random memories at him. Flashes of his dreams—the steps to the old house, Vicky standing outside the old house. His dream that he hadn't had for a while but always about… Wait, he'd never seen Vicky outside the old house before because she hadn't been in his dreams.

Downing the rest of his Scotch, he dropped the glass on a side table as he headed for his dining room and their makeshift office. He didn't know much about the house because it wasn't in Altenchester and had been abandoned for as long as he could remember.

The desk was littered with papers and books, and he roughly shoved them around until he found what he was looking for, the one titled,
Halls of Lancashire
. Flicking through the pages, he found the right section. "Amsall Hall, located on the outskirts of the village of Altenchester, is one of history's examples of neglect. A once grand home to the Amsall family that dates back to the early 1700s…"

James let the book close around his finger and stared out the window into the emptiness of the night. The Amsall family? He'd never heard of them. He'd always known it as the old house for as long as he could remember.

Memories of being dared as a child to go inside sprang to mind, along with stories of the place being haunted. Weren't there stories of every great old house being haunted though? Switching the computer on, he began searching for more details.

 
When he heard the living room clock chime the hour, he pushed back from the desk and rubbed a hand over his eyes and down his cheeks, noticing his chin was scratchy from a day's growth of whiskers.
Midnight. I really should go to bed.

He looked down at the half page of scribbled notes; there really wasn't much to show for almost an hour of searching. The Amsall family was similar to his own, except sometime around the 1950s they died out. With no heir to take over the running of the house, it had been left to the ravages of time and the weather.

That didn't help their situation or explain why the old house starred in his dreams alongside Vicky. Switching the computer off, he trudged upstairs to his bedroom, checked in on Vicky, and then made his way to the spare bedroom.

 
Turning over, he thumped his pillow as he woke for the second time that night. As he was just falling asleep, an image of Vicky bleeding and dying outside his house, the creature leaning over her, would flash through his mind, and he would be wide awake again.

Releasing the sheets from his clenched fists, he rolled over to his back and stretched out. His eyes flew open when the quiet of the night was split by a tortured scream. Vicky. It had to be. Throwing back the covers, he ran to her room.

Her arms were waving around as though fending someone or something off. "Vicky." He wasn't sure if she heard him, but her movements slowed, and he brushed his hand over the top of her head. She stilled at his touch and a wave of relief went through him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he clasped her hands in his.

Her eyes fluttered open and her gaze flicked around the room until she saw him. "James."

"Hey."

"How? What? Oh, my God."

"It's okay. You're safe. You're at my house."

She tried to sit up and James gently pushed her back to the pillows.

"But… I saw you on the ground. It attacked you too."

"I'm fine. You must have distracted it, or it thought I was dead already. I don't know. I don't care as long as you're okay."
 

He leaned forward but then stopped, giving her hand a squeeze instead. Kissing her was precisely the reason she had landed where she was. "You should rest. Emma has Teazle. I'll call Matt in the morning, let them both know you're awake. Can I get you anything?"

She shook her head then winced, lifting a hand to her neck. The look of pain on her face made him want to wrap her in his arms and never let go.

Instead, he stood, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pyjamas. She looked up at him and he took a step closer, dropping his head and closing his eyes shut tight. When he lifted his head, he looked at a spot just to the side of her head and said, "Shout if you need anything. I'm only next door."
 

He didn't wait for her response, just strode out of the room because if he didn't, he'd end up in the bed with her.
 

The following evening, Vicky sat in James's dining room surrounded by papers and books as the rest of them showed up.
 

Matt and Emma arrived first, bringing Teazle with them. Vicky was relieved to see she was fine apart from a few scratches. It would take more than Satan taking a swipe at her to keep Teazle down. Picking her up, Vicky sat the dog on her knee and stroked behind her ear.
 

Jess and Rob walked in not long after, and Jess pointedly looked at James then at Vicky. They sat on the sofa, pressed against each other, and Vicky felt the heat in her cheeks as she wondered if James had mentioned her sleepover.
God, I hope not.

 
Emma came to sit next to her, rubbing her hand up and down her arm. "How are you doing?"

Vicky turned her attention from Teazle to answer. "Honestly, I feel fine. I was scared at the time, because obviously, I've never seen anything like it before. And when I… James was lying on the ground, and I thought he'd been…"

Emma squeezed her arm and Vicky looked towards where James was standing. Their gazes met and he smiled, but he seemed… distant. Or was she imagining it? Maybe he was wondering why she'd even been at his house in the first place. Or perhaps he regretted their weekend together?

James cleared his throat, and she left the questions for another time. Or never. "So, I thought you'd all want to know that Vicky was okay." He lifted a hand in her direction. "As you can see, she seems fine."

"Can you remember what happened?" Matt asked as he moved to stand by the wall that had papers pinned to it.

Vicky nodded, but where to begin? Should she tell them why she had been outside James's house in the middle of the night? She glanced down at Teazle and stroked behind her ear as she started to tell them about her vision. She spoke straight to Teazle's face so she wouldn't have to see James's.

"After James had disappeared beneath the water and I woke up smelling like the river I thought, well, I just wanted to check that he was okay." She heard somebody take in a sharp breath but kept her eyes trained on Teazle.
 

"After the attack, you never said… Why didn't you tell me?" James asked.

She looked up at his question, her eyes wide. Seriously? He wanted this conversation in front of his family? "It didn't seem important after we were attacked."
I thought you'd think I was overreacting because the James I spent the weekend with seems to have disappeared.

 
"Can you remember what it looked like? The thing that attacked you?"

Vicky gave Matt a small smile at his question. Always so practical. "It was Satan." He just stared at her, his mouth open.
Wow, I've stunned him question-less.

"What?" James asked. "I thought Satan looked like a red devil with horns? From what I remember, it didn't look like that. In fact, all I remember were eyes, hundreds of eyes staring at me." When Jess gasped, he asked, "What is it, rabbit?"

Jess was staring at Rob, who slipped an arm around her shoulders. "One of my visions." She turned to look at James. "My vision with the peacock, it had eyes. Hundreds of eyes on its tail feathers."
 

James nodded and Vicky continued as all their gazes returned to her. "It's the Bible's description of Satan. That's what I saw. That's what attacked us. My Sunday school teacher's description of Satan. It has several faces and that night, it had the face of an eagle before it turned into a grotesque version of a man. It had wings covered in blinking eyes and a forked tail with spikes along it. Its touch burned," she said as she lifted a hand to where the marks had all but healed. "And it smelled like death and evil."