Read Online A Low Down Dirty Shane by Sierra Dean - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sierra Dean
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appeared ten feet behind the altar, forming the black yawning mouth of the gate.
This whole venture now depended on luck. She prayed to the goddess her father hadn’t had an opportunity to summon forth whatever gatekeeper would be coming to claim the virgin sacrifice. If he had, surely the gate would have been opened already. Siobhan didn’t know what she expected to emerge from the hole, but she hoped it was something big, mean and hungry for druids and not unconscious virgins.
Shane ambled up next to her, and they stared into the circle while the druids watched the gate nervously. They moved into action, pulling out their own knives—identical to hers—and set about a speedy course to seal the gate. They wouldn’t make it on time. Opening the gate, even for a second, was long enough for something to get through.
Siobhan withdrew the compact bow from her back sling and slipped the wire off her hip, stretching it long as the bow expanded into its full size. She bent the bow, stringing the wire tight, all the while watching her clansmen try to shut the gate before—
The gate was empty one moment, and the next a big, hulking mountain of monster appeared in the opening. It was easily ten feet tall, had the skull structure of a horse and four elephantine legs as well as two humanlike arms. The only thing making the arms unusual was the sharp claws in place of fingers. The beast was entirely red, except one break in color—two solid black eyes. The monster—one she’d never seen before in her life—grabbed the nearest druid by sinking its talons in the man’s head and flinging him into the blackness of the gate.
Siobhan heard a pop, and the gate closed. Blood was blood as far as bindings went, and the gate had been appeased.
The remaining five men scattered in front of the monster like ants whose hill had been disturbed. One panicked and ran headlong into his own protective circle, and the swirling wall of energy sent him flying back, directly into the monster’s waiting arms.
The monster ripped the druid in half.
Siobhan recognized the gruff voice of her father shouting directions to his still-living comrades while he knelt before the salt line and began to chant in Gaelic. The breaking ritual. She fixated on the slab where the girl lay supine, and prayed the monster would seek out more active prey before turning its attention to the unconscious innocent. Watching her father’s mouth move, she could hear the words he was speaking echoing in her head, words she’d chanted herself a thousand times over.
She knew the exact moment the barrier would collapse.
Leveling her bow and keeping both eyes on her father, Siobhan could feel her fingers trembling. It wasn’t that she harbored any kind of warm-and-fuzzy feeling towards the man who’d sired her, but the idea she might need to put an arrow in him didn’t sit well.
It wouldn’t stop her. She knew what needed to be done, and she understood this girl didn’t need to die. The texts said a female of the clan should be sacrificed on her twenty-fifth birthday. The girl on the slab was not a member of the Claughdid. Siobhan doubted she was even twenty-five. A virgin, possibly, but what did that matter? If the texts were to be followed to the letter, one item out of three wasn’t going to cut it. Especially not when Siobhan herself still met more of the criteria and had been deemed unworthy.
Two days ago she’d believed the Claughdid clan did what was hard but what was right. Now—because of her own selfish desire to live—she could see the absurdity of the clan’s ways more clearly. They protected people, that was undeniable, but did that justify killing innocents when they thought it bettered their cause?
Siobhan’s fingers twitched.
She didn’t know what to believe, but she knew she couldn’t blindly believe in the gospel of the druids anymore.
The protective field shimmered, wavering between something of substance and no longer existing.
This whole venture now depended on luck. She prayed to the goddess her father hadn’t had an opportunity to summon forth whatever gatekeeper would be coming to claim the virgin sacrifice. If he had, surely the gate would have been opened already. Siobhan didn’t know what she expected to emerge from the hole, but she hoped it was something big, mean and hungry for druids and not unconscious virgins.
Shane ambled up next to her, and they stared into the circle while the druids watched the gate nervously. They moved into action, pulling out their own knives—identical to hers—and set about a speedy course to seal the gate. They wouldn’t make it on time. Opening the gate, even for a second, was long enough for something to get through.
Siobhan withdrew the compact bow from her back sling and slipped the wire off her hip, stretching it long as the bow expanded into its full size. She bent the bow, stringing the wire tight, all the while watching her clansmen try to shut the gate before—
The gate was empty one moment, and the next a big, hulking mountain of monster appeared in the opening. It was easily ten feet tall, had the skull structure of a horse and four elephantine legs as well as two humanlike arms. The only thing making the arms unusual was the sharp claws in place of fingers. The beast was entirely red, except one break in color—two solid black eyes. The monster—one she’d never seen before in her life—grabbed the nearest druid by sinking its talons in the man’s head and flinging him into the blackness of the gate.
Siobhan heard a pop, and the gate closed. Blood was blood as far as bindings went, and the gate had been appeased.
The remaining five men scattered in front of the monster like ants whose hill had been disturbed. One panicked and ran headlong into his own protective circle, and the swirling wall of energy sent him flying back, directly into the monster’s waiting arms.
The monster ripped the druid in half.
Siobhan recognized the gruff voice of her father shouting directions to his still-living comrades while he knelt before the salt line and began to chant in Gaelic. The breaking ritual. She fixated on the slab where the girl lay supine, and prayed the monster would seek out more active prey before turning its attention to the unconscious innocent. Watching her father’s mouth move, she could hear the words he was speaking echoing in her head, words she’d chanted herself a thousand times over.
She knew the exact moment the barrier would collapse.
Leveling her bow and keeping both eyes on her father, Siobhan could feel her fingers trembling. It wasn’t that she harbored any kind of warm-and-fuzzy feeling towards the man who’d sired her, but the idea she might need to put an arrow in him didn’t sit well.
It wouldn’t stop her. She knew what needed to be done, and she understood this girl didn’t need to die. The texts said a female of the clan should be sacrificed on her twenty-fifth birthday. The girl on the slab was not a member of the Claughdid. Siobhan doubted she was even twenty-five. A virgin, possibly, but what did that matter? If the texts were to be followed to the letter, one item out of three wasn’t going to cut it. Especially not when Siobhan herself still met more of the criteria and had been deemed unworthy.
Two days ago she’d believed the Claughdid clan did what was hard but what was right. Now—because of her own selfish desire to live—she could see the absurdity of the clan’s ways more clearly. They protected people, that was undeniable, but did that justify killing innocents when they thought it bettered their cause?
Siobhan’s fingers twitched.
She didn’t know what to believe, but she knew she couldn’t blindly believe in the gospel of the druids anymore.
The protective field shimmered, wavering between something of substance and no longer existing.
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