Read Online The Rousing: A Celtic in the Blood Novella by Jess Raven, Paula Black - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jess Raven, Paula Black
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the dead for me, didn’t you?” Jack shouted. “Just as you did my father, and countless generations of Pembroke men before him. That’s what my mother was trying to protect me from. That’s why she sent me away. But I’m here now. The debt lies with my family bloodline, not with this innocent man. Let him go, Dearg-Due. Take me instead.”
Teeth still embedded in Liam’s throat, the creature regarded Jack with the ominous stillness of a bird of prey sizing up its kill. She looked to be ruminating on his offer, but the wildness in her eyes betrayed her hunger for what he offered. She released her grip and my heart rate slowed to a nauseating pound as I watched Liam’s body crumple down onto the rocks. The Dearg-Due stepped over his limp, discarded form, a bloodied smile spreading on her lips as she ghosted towards where Jack stood his ground at the summit of the cliff.
Frantic, I scrambled up the steps and over the rocks to where Liam lay sprawled. His skin was parchment-pale in the darkness. I cupped a cold cheek, and his head lolled to one side, exposing the ravaged mess where she’d bitten him. Tears clouded my vision as I pressed my fingers to the wound, willing the blood back into his body. With my free hand I sought a pulse at the other side of his throat, and for an eternity, there was nothing, but then I felt it, weak but unmistakable, tap-tapping against the pads of my fingers.
“Thank you God,” I cried, sobbing on Liam’s chest as I felt his lungs inflate beneath my cheek.
I was never much for prayers or church-going. My teenage-self had exhausted any faith I’d had, on my knees, begging a lifeline for my mother that never came. But that night I was convinced. If a demon of vengeance could rise from the grave to drink the blood of men, then there was more mystery to the world than the mundane human mind could ever possibly comprehend. Some higher being, call it God, call it Fate, call it what you will, something in the universe conspired to put Jack Pembroke on that cliff at the very moment my brother’s life hung in the balance, and it was Jack Pembroke’s courage in the face of certain death that tipped that balance in Liam’s favour. For that reprieve, I would be eternally grateful, but we were far from out of danger.
Satisfied my brother was alive for now at least, I dared to lift my eyes to the scene unfolding on the cliff top. The Dearg-Due had Jack in her thrall. As though reeled in on some invisible wire, eyes glazed, he walked towards her and dropped to his knees at her feet. I watched in horror as she gripped his face in her clawed hands, drawing blood where her nails cut into his flesh. Seeing the family resemblance she sought, she opened that fanged maw and screeched in his face. One word, over and over, “Pembroke,” she roared, slashing viciously at his chest. Head thrown back, arms hanging limp at his sides, Jack was powerless to defend himself, but his face was etched with pain.
This would not be the seductive death she’d granted Liam. This was vengeance incarnate, and it wanted to savour its victim’s agony as it carved its pound of flesh. Vengeance for a wrong committed against an innocent girl by some distant ancestor of Jack’s. To the Dearg-Due, I could tell they were one in the same, this man and the sadistic husband who tortured her to the point of suicide, to the point of bargaining with the demons of Hell, all those centuries before.
I was never a particularly brave person, and God knew, not an hour before, I’d been craving some sweet vengeance of my own, but I knew in that moment, I could not stand by and watch Jack Pembroke martyr himself for the sake of my family. I had to do something, but what? Something told me pepper spray wasn’t going to cut it with this hell-spawn, and being non-religious, I hadn’t even a crucifix to my name. I suddenly found myself with a newfound respect for Lady Kathleen Pembroke and her knowledge of the occult. If only I knew
Teeth still embedded in Liam’s throat, the creature regarded Jack with the ominous stillness of a bird of prey sizing up its kill. She looked to be ruminating on his offer, but the wildness in her eyes betrayed her hunger for what he offered. She released her grip and my heart rate slowed to a nauseating pound as I watched Liam’s body crumple down onto the rocks. The Dearg-Due stepped over his limp, discarded form, a bloodied smile spreading on her lips as she ghosted towards where Jack stood his ground at the summit of the cliff.
Frantic, I scrambled up the steps and over the rocks to where Liam lay sprawled. His skin was parchment-pale in the darkness. I cupped a cold cheek, and his head lolled to one side, exposing the ravaged mess where she’d bitten him. Tears clouded my vision as I pressed my fingers to the wound, willing the blood back into his body. With my free hand I sought a pulse at the other side of his throat, and for an eternity, there was nothing, but then I felt it, weak but unmistakable, tap-tapping against the pads of my fingers.
“Thank you God,” I cried, sobbing on Liam’s chest as I felt his lungs inflate beneath my cheek.
I was never much for prayers or church-going. My teenage-self had exhausted any faith I’d had, on my knees, begging a lifeline for my mother that never came. But that night I was convinced. If a demon of vengeance could rise from the grave to drink the blood of men, then there was more mystery to the world than the mundane human mind could ever possibly comprehend. Some higher being, call it God, call it Fate, call it what you will, something in the universe conspired to put Jack Pembroke on that cliff at the very moment my brother’s life hung in the balance, and it was Jack Pembroke’s courage in the face of certain death that tipped that balance in Liam’s favour. For that reprieve, I would be eternally grateful, but we were far from out of danger.
Satisfied my brother was alive for now at least, I dared to lift my eyes to the scene unfolding on the cliff top. The Dearg-Due had Jack in her thrall. As though reeled in on some invisible wire, eyes glazed, he walked towards her and dropped to his knees at her feet. I watched in horror as she gripped his face in her clawed hands, drawing blood where her nails cut into his flesh. Seeing the family resemblance she sought, she opened that fanged maw and screeched in his face. One word, over and over, “Pembroke,” she roared, slashing viciously at his chest. Head thrown back, arms hanging limp at his sides, Jack was powerless to defend himself, but his face was etched with pain.
This would not be the seductive death she’d granted Liam. This was vengeance incarnate, and it wanted to savour its victim’s agony as it carved its pound of flesh. Vengeance for a wrong committed against an innocent girl by some distant ancestor of Jack’s. To the Dearg-Due, I could tell they were one in the same, this man and the sadistic husband who tortured her to the point of suicide, to the point of bargaining with the demons of Hell, all those centuries before.
I was never a particularly brave person, and God knew, not an hour before, I’d been craving some sweet vengeance of my own, but I knew in that moment, I could not stand by and watch Jack Pembroke martyr himself for the sake of my family. I had to do something, but what? Something told me pepper spray wasn’t going to cut it with this hell-spawn, and being non-religious, I hadn’t even a crucifix to my name. I suddenly found myself with a newfound respect for Lady Kathleen Pembroke and her knowledge of the occult. If only I knew
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