This went….better than either of them could have guessed. Almost too great, to the point where Eidhin and his wolf were not sure whether or not to enjoy the home cooked meal. A large part of him wanted to run and hide back in his cabin, because that was safe and predictable. This happy father figure was neither of those, or at least he had never been that way before in the past. Now, however, he seemed to have changed had said so much to E which is what convinced him to come over.
That first step through the door he had felt as if a chill had gone up his spine and a sense of dread came over to him that was only quelled by the warm embrace of his “mother”.
Instantly the sensation of safety and contentment washed over him that nearly brought tears to his eyes at the ache that came into his heart. The love that she felt for him was not something that he wanted to lose and he had definitely missed it. Far more than he had ever thought possible, but here he was arms about her tiny frame and the urge to just pick her up and spin her in the air.
“You have changed son!” she exclaimed.
“Yeah, just a bit.”
“Been eating well?”
“I manage,” he replied shyly while he allowed her to examine him the only way that a mother could.
“Come and sit, dinner is nearly ready. Dad is really happy to see you again, we were both so worried.”
Eidhin had to contain his eye roll and lack of faith in that comment, but for the sake of the dinner and such he just he allowed himself to be led to the dining room. E was already there, the table was set and it felt like family dinner from the old times.
“Um, hi…” he whispered softly to the room.
The man who he knew now was not his father walked over to him and he felt himself tense involuntarily. All he could remember was the look on his face while he held the cross to his chest and chanted to the words to heaven. It was not the most fatherly image and sometimes when he slept it still haunted his nightmares.
“Traherne, you are looking well,” the comment was simple and held little to no true emotion.
“Thank you, I have been managing to take care of myself,” he responded with the same disconnected tone.
“Well, it is good to see you. Go on and sit down your mother made a delicious lamb roast for dinner,” then a smile he had not expected.
Carefully, he took a seat beside Eilidh and whispered. “This is…strangely nice. Almost too nice,” he gave her a nudge.
Everything had to be perfect.
Eidhin was going to be coming back into the house for the first time in five years. Their mother had spent time making sure the house was in perfect order, Eilidh helping, and the pair got ready to act as though nothing had changed. Though she had gelled with Eidhin as though not a day had passed, their mother…her mother…was overwhelmed with the idea of seeing him again. Tears had been brimming on the edges of her eyes for the entire day since her son…her boy, accepted the invitation to dinner.
Her father, on the other hand, may have done a complete 180, but wasn’t as into getting ready for the dinner. He seemed further away, constantly in thought while the pair got to work preparing the food. Eilidh avoided the meat preparation, but she was more than happy to prepare the sides.
At least, until Lorcan decided to kick her out. It was with a kiss and a shove that he sent her off to change and get presentable, then to set the table. A quick change was given, and then she was back downstairs setting the table, ready for him to make his appearance. Just as the door opened, a drink was thrust into her hand and she was told to sip, that she looked nervous. Graciously smiling and offering a thank you, she drank the wine he’d poured her, and settled into the table as he indicated.
Then, as his visage entered, a smile crossed her lips, hugging him as he sat down next to her. Nudge noticed, she didn’t think much of it, looking at him with a confused sort of look and replying with a shrug. “Give him time…He’ll ease up,” she whispered back with a nudge of her own.
Meanwhile, their mother was already dishing out the food, pouring their drinks and settling in across from her son, a hand outstretched toward him as Lorcan cleared his throat. Heads automatically bowing, a prayer was given, thanking the Lord for the food, for the day they were given, and the people they were sharing it with. An “amen” was given, Eilidh feeling eyes on her, but she ignored it, instead turning attention to her soup and salad.
“So!” Aine broke the silence with. “What are your plans now that you’re back? Have you found a place? Are you going to find another job?”
The prayer felt awkward as ever and yet it also soothed him in a way. The familiarity of it struck a chord in his soul that made him want to just pretend that nothing had happened and that it could all be as it was before.
A healthy gulp of wine followed the prayer and he had just cut into his meat when his mother bombarded him with questions.
“Um…well, I thought that I would go back to school. Like online and E said that I could work with her if I wanted. Perhaps get a place together…”
The fork fell from “their” father’s hand to clang loudly on his plate, effectively silencing the room for a moment. All eyes were on the man that was known for a quick temper to see if this would be the thing to send him back into that familiar rage. A single bead of sweat rolled down his face, which he dabbled up napkin as he cleared his throat.
“Oh? Like an apartment in town?” he asked with a calm that appeared to be genuine if a bit hesitant.
Cutting into her meat, Aine waited for the answer, smile still on her lips as he took a sip of his wine and started in. A nod was given, agreeing that he should, most definitely, return to school, and, now that he was back with his sister, she could motivate him to work, to get out of his comfort zone. Who knew? Maybe she could even get him out of his comfort zone and into something more beneficial to society.
But, whatever thoughts she had on that were cut off the moment the last part left his lips and the loud clamber of the fork hitting the plate broke through. Despite being such a small thing, it made a sound far louder than any preceding it thus far. Her eyes instantly shot over to Lorcan with a look on her face that said, “don’t start”.
Eilidh, preparing for a fight, took a larger sip of her drink, finishing it off and instantly topping it off without even any regard for how it may look. “Yes, an apartment in town,” she said after taking yet another hearty sip off of her drink. A slight, warm feeling had begun to take hold, but it was a feeling she needed if they were going to have this conversation so early on in the night. Sparing a look in Eidhin’s direction, she pressed on. “I mean, I’m…twenty-three, so I figure it may be time to…branch out on my own, and Eidhin and I have a lot of catching up to do…and I know you wouldn’t want me out on my own anyway, but who better to be with than my brother, right?”
Aine agreed with the logic, but the look on her husband’s face told another story. “I’m glad you two are just as close as you were before,” she said with nothing but a loving smile on her face.
“Oh no,” Lorcan began. “Of course I agree,” his napkin was used to dab at his face before he himself poured Eidhin more wine. “They are both adults now and a lot has changed since they were children. I think they have both grown and matured to the point where they can be on their own and do their own thing.”
The smile that followed unsettled Eidhin, though he could not figure out why as another hearty sip was taken from his glass. A slight warmth was felt in the pit of his stomach, though it was not strong enough for him to pay much attention too.
“Um, yeah…that is what we thought. We have a lot to catch up on and have always been there for one another. So, now that I am back I figured we could pick up where we left off and help one another be more productive in the world,” his hand rested on Eilidh’s lap under the table and he shared a look with her that spoke of the bond they shared.
“That is nice,” Lorcan said suddenly and with a tone that was more than amused. “Just going to live a normal life now? Taking care of one another and protecting one another? From the monsters that roam in the world?”
At the word Monster Eidhin felt his hackle raise and his temper start to boil. Already he felt his hands press into the handle of the knife he held, crushing the steel with ease.
“What monsters are you referring too?”
“Now now…let’s not start this at the dinner table. Please?” Aine cut in before things got out of hand.
Eilidh took another sip off of her glass and found it running empty yet again. Since when did I become a lush…? she wondered idly, pouring another glass as an odd feeling began to take hold. It wasn’t one that she thought much of, associating it with the amount of alcohol to food intake she’d had, so she poured another glass and started picking at her salad and sipping off of her soup when Eidhin’s hand caught her attention.
Eyes slipping over in his direction, they shared a look, a slight smile on her lips until their father’s familiar voice broke through the happy bubble with cruel words. “Monsters”…He’d never said that around her, not like this. Her eyes widened as she heard Eidhin reply, and their mother try to shut it down.
This side of their father, she didn’t like. This was the side she thought was gone, that she thought had accepted Eidhin back…Had it been a ploy? Had she been a fool to think that her father could put aside his prejudices?
Silence fell over the table as they started eating. Eilidh didn’t make eye contact for a while, pushing her soup around with a spoon and not bothering to pick up her glass, afraid she’d make too much noise. But, when the eyes of her father bore into her, and bore in hard, she felt compelled to pick up the glass and drain its contents yet again, going back to eating if only to keep her hands occupied. But the feeling…the feeling was growing. She was finding it harder to lift her spoon to her lips, lift her glass (that was remaining ever full), finding it hard to continue doing much of anything as she sought to shake it.
A confused, tired look made itself at home on her face, literally shaking her head as a fog settled in. Hand clumsily trying to bring the spoon to her lips, she couldn’t bridge the gap. The longer she held it, the further away it seemed to get despite her best efforts. It was soon dropped, the soup having long since been replaced in the bowl by her dwindling control over it as it fell to the bowl in front of her and she just rested against her chair.
“Eilidh?” Aine asked, worry etching into her face. “Are you alright?”
Her lips parted to speak, but nothing came out. Father patting Eilidh’s hand instead, he turned to his wife with a smile. “She’s probably just full, aren’t you?”
Barely able to manage a nod, his sickly smile rounded on Eidhin. “So, how are you going to protect her? Huh? Keep her safe like you did the night she ended up in the hospital?”
A fog, his mind felt like he was in a fog. The more he ate and the more he drank the more he felt like he was in a fog. By the time he thought to do or say anything Eilidh had already sagged in her chair and their father had started in on him again.
“You know that was not something I meant to happen…” he managed to say, though his tongue felt thick and his vision swam a bit. “What did you put in that food?” he asked with as much energy as he could muster.
Getting up from the chair, he rounded on Eilidh, filling her glass some more, tilting her head back and pouring it in without much ado. Their mother, as per her usual, looked down at her plate, heart already sinking at the idea that her husband had ulterior motives and she should have seen it prior.
“You didn’t mean for it to…but it did…” A look over at him as the glass emptied and he put it back on the table, rounding on him and standing behind his chair. Fingers taking hold of his hair, he yanked his head back—Aine’s face contorted into horror—to make direct eye contact. “You opened her up to it. You left her vulnerable to demons. And now, look what you’ve done. Look what you’ve done to your poor…poor…Well…you know, she’s not your sister…” Pushing his head forward, he took a cross from his pocket, one that hadn’t been painted with nail polish and put it about her neck, the rash nearly instantly appearing as she struggled to keep her eyes open.
“You made her what she is…and now it’s my job to rip the demon free from her before its hold gets any deeper…”
Nothing made sense, like his head was under water so the words were muffled and nearly unintelligible. Horror etched into his face while he watched Lorcan pour more of the drugged wine down Eilidh’s throat. Weakly he tried to stand, but found himself unsteady so that when Lorcan grabbed him he could not even begin to fend him off.
A growl of pain poured from his lips from his head being yanked back and being forced to stare into the eyes of a man that was far more demented than either of them knew.
“Stop it! You are hurting her!” he growled and tried to stand once again but only managed to fall to his knees. “We are not evil! We are not demons! She is your daughter at least for her sake leave her be and take me instead!”
Inside he could feel his wolf as it struggled and howled against whatever they had been drugged with. Felt the beast struggle to be freed so that he could save his pack.
“We are not Monsters!” he managed to howl weakly.
As he fell to his knees, Lorcan only laughed, kicking him over with a nudge of his foot, a cruel, cold laugh falling free of his lips. Shooting a look at his wife, she meekly got up from the table and left the room.
Once she was out, he went to the china cabinet, and opened a drawer, pulling out two syringes. One he put directly into her neck, jabbing it in hard and loosing its contents into her veins. A small sound of protest was given, but by that point, she was beyond help, beyond the ability to fight anything. No longer aware of what was around her.
He could have shot Eidhin up first…but that would have been kind. Instead, he let him watch as his “sister” was shot up, and then moved to him with a heftier dose. Making eye contact, he jabbed the needle into his neck and in the drug went in to solidify his own disabled disposition. A whistle was given, and men from seemingly nowhere came in to drag him down to the basement while he hoisted his limp sister into his arms.
“Don’t worry, Traherne…” Lorcan cooed in sarcastic fashion as he was hauled from the room, calling after him. “When we’re through, she’ll be free, and we’ll try to offer you the same comfort we failed to five years ago!”
With that, the men dragged him down into their basement, chaining him up to the support beams, coated in silver as a just in case precaution, before they, too, left him to follow after the good reverend. No matter how drugged they had her, they weren’t taking any chances this time around. They’d get it right, so help them God.
All the drugs in the world could not put him out completely, or at least that is what it seemed like to Eidhin. He watched in helpless horror while the man who he had feared but loved proceeded to drug the only person in this world who loved him as much as he loved them. Every muscle strained every fiber of his being fought and it was for naught. Even as he himself was drugged and dragged away he was aware, but unable to do anything.
Arms bound to the pole at his back and Eidhin felt himself slip into a pit of despair so deep he doubted he could ever crawl back out of it.
I failed her….I promised her that I would protect her and be there for her….Now he has her, now he is going to hurt her….I failed….
The burning against his back began to fade to just a dull throbbing sensation as the world faded to the blissful void of blackness.
“Traherne?”
A voice warm and familiar rolled across his body and wrapped him in a comfort that he doubted he would ever hear again.
“A Stóirín,” a term he had heard every morning of his childhood for as long as he could remember, tore his heart in two and caused him to weep.
“Mo mháthair ... Tá brón orm .... le do thoil logh dom .... ....”
(My mother ... I'm sorry .... please forgive me)
“Hush leanbh anois, tá aon rud a logh ....”
(Hust now child, there is nothing to forgive)
Hands, usually warm, were now cool against his face and soothing none the less. The soft brush of her lips to his forehead and his body heaved from the fresh start of tears and sobs.
“A Stóirín , Tá grá agam duit agus beidh mé i gcónaí,” she whispered to him and then jabbed him in the thigh with something that sparked a moment of pain that quickly dissipated. Confusion filled his eyes while he looked at the EpiPen she now held in her hands. There was little time to question before she left to move behind him and work on the lock that held his chains.
“I heard them say something about the old church,” she began to speak while she worked. “That is where they are probably taking her, so if you hurry you should be able to catch them. I gave you a shot of something to help counter allergic reactions…hopefully it will help.”
At first what she said made no sense, mind still in a deep medicated fog, but the more she talked and the more time that passed the more it became clear. The warmth that had started from the point of injection spread throughout the rest of his body. Where the warmth spread the easier it became to move and function once more. Granted it was nowhere close to being completely back to normal, but it was better than nothing. When the chains fell free finally he was felt himself able to stand under his own power, he was a bit unsteady on his feet but it was better than nothing.
“You know he means well….he just wants to save her soul…” his mother whispered from behind him which drew his full attention.
The look on her face was one that was plain to see, a silent plea from her for her misguided husband. No verbal answer did he give but he did once again hug her close and kissed the top of her head.
“Tá grá agam duit,” he whispered. Then he was gone, up the stairs and out the door. His feet carrying him as fast they could toward the old church.
“Hold on Eilidh, I’m coming…”
Everything she was seeing, understanding, was coming in waves. From the moment her father lifted her into his arms, the world around her shifted into a place where lines were blurred, where the difference between reality and fantasy was beyond recognition.
Head lulled back, hanging freely as her body swayed in time with his gait, her eyes couldn’t manage to stay open. The few glimpses she caught were of men, she thought, steadily walking around them. Some seemed to be doing something, bibles in their hands as rosaries hung round their wrists, lips moving though no sound reached her ears. Everything was blurry, fuzzy, struggling to move and walk of her own accord. But, each time she tried to move, a small sound would leave her lips and her father would whisper something down to her. This, too, was unintelligible.
Lorcan was beside himself with fury. It could be seen in his eyes, in the way he looked at his daughter…or what was left of her. It may have been her body, but it wouldn’t be tomorrow, not if the demon got its hooks in her any deeper. The reaction to the cross around her neck told tell of its hold on her already, skin bubbling, burning, turning red.
The devil had a hold on his daughter, the one person he thought would be spared from this curse, and it was now his job to reverse what was done. Even if this ended in death, it’d be a better fate so long as her soul was freed.
Church looming overhead, run down but still standing off in the mountains where they could chant and she could scream without interruption, they headed inside. One at a time, their imposing figures took the small girl into the church, some expecting there to be an issue with just the act of bringing her through the door though no such issue came. Laid out on an altar, they chained her with silver, effectively bracing her to the holy structure.
…And then it began.
Each man placed two hands on her, leaving only room for her father at her head, ready to hold her down should she struggle as the exorcism began. Her eyes struggled to look up at the man standing over her, her father, Bible clutched in one hand, crosses scattered about them, candles lit, and holy water ready.
“Eilidh…Just relax…” he cooed at her, a thumb brushing over her cheek. “This will all be over soon…”
“Father…” she managed to breathe out. “I’m…not…possessed…”
“Shhhhh…” he replied, a hand pressing over her mouth as she tested trying to move, pulling at the restraints and found instant pressure from the hands on her to hold her in place. “Don’t fight this…Eidhin fought this…it’ll hurt less if you let me do what I need to…”
Each step carried him closer to her and with each step he felt the wolf grow stronger. The drugs began to wear off and it was not long before he felt the wolf there beneath the surface waiting for him to call it forth. Yet, he could not spare a moment to stop and shift, there was no time and he would not leave Eilidh with her father for any longer than possible. So, he was left with but one option.
To shift as he ran.
First came his sight, the world around him shifted in hues and vibrancy. The world of darkness that had begun to swallow up the world around him vanished, replaced by a strangle illumination; He could see everything. Next, was his hearing, the forest around him suddenly roared with the hidden life that called the woods their home. Bugs, birds, animals both large and small he could hear as clear as day. A slight rustling in the leaves from a rabbit that scampered off, scared by his sudden appearance. The near silent flaps of a bat’s wings as it flew through the air in search of the insects that were their prey.
Lastly, came his scent of smell and with it an even clearer path to where Eilidh had been taken. His heart raced and he willed himself to continue. To push on into the transformation, even when his legs warped, twisted and he stumbled, he continued. When the pain as his organs shifted and moved, bones broke and reform, he continued to run. Until, finally, clawed and furry paws now plowed through the underbrush. Long, powerful strides allowed him the practically bound through the woods. Sense of hearing paired with his scent of smell now as he heard the chanting and smelled Eilidh’s fear.
A howl was loosed from his muzzle to let her know he was coming that he had not abandoned her…
That he had kept his word.
“I Ainm Íosa Críost, ár n-Dia agus an Tiarna,” Lorcan began, Bible clutched hard in his hands as she began to squirm all the more beneath the pairs of hands that held her tightly to the altar at her back. “Neartú trí idirghuí na Maighdine Mhuire gan Smál, A Mháthair Dé,
Beannaithe Mícheál Archaingeal…”
Tears began to stream down her face, still too hazy to keep from being any real threat to them yet. But something was stirring in her, something in the depths that she began to feel for the first time. It was on the outskirts of her conscious, there was a restlessness, an anger, another mind all its own that sought to break out. Shaking her head, the movements small at first, but growing as the drug’s effects gave enough for her to have coherent, vocal thoughts; More substantial thoughts than a brief, panted word here or there.
“An Bheannaithe nAspal Peadar agus Pól agus go léir na Naomh,”
“Father…Father, I’m not possessed,” she tried again, trying to connect with him, to shake free the chains that bound her, to make eye contact. But he continued, chanting over her, ignoring what she’d said.
“Agus cumhachtach i údarás naofa ar ár n-aireacht…”
“I’m still the same Eilidh!”
“Geallaimid go muiníneach chun repulse na n-ionsaithe agus meabhlaireachtaí an diabhal.”
The chanting was growing louder, those around her chiming in, one tossing water on her in time to her father’s behest. Lorcan never made eye contact with her, though. No, that was against the code. Any exorcist knew not to make eye contact if at all possible. So then, why had he not covered the eyes? Why had he left her to see what was going on?
…Because, somewhere, deep down, he thought he could save her and she really could be his Eilidh again. Twenty-three years, her soul had been safe…He’d make it safe again, tear her free of the demon that now held tightly to her small frame, bearing down on her mind and warping it, twisting it, changing her into something that would be unrecognizable a mere night from then.
“Father, please listen to me!”
“ Éiríonn Dia; A naimhde scaipthe agus iad siúd a fuath dó teitheadh roimh dó. Toisc go bhfuil deataigh thiomáint ar shiúl,” he pressed on, as did those around her, louder still. More silver was added to her frame, effectively locking her in where she lay as her flesh bubbled and burned, eliciting more tears, louder cries and pleas.
“Father!”
“Mar sin atá tiomáinte iad…”
“Please!”
“Mar a leánn céir roimh an tine…”
“I’m your daughter!”
“Mar sin an crith ghránna ag an láthair Dé.”
He left the head of the altar then, stepping away as he grabbed up a larger cross. Eilidh didn’t see it, though. No, what she saw was hope. The others were moving the chains, loosening them, sliding them about her form. In her mind, they were going to let her out, go against her father’s wishes. Silent thanks was given as she started to wriggle out only to be held more firmly in place. Confusion took hold once more as she looked down at her body, saw that her torso was exposed, that the chains had merely been shifted to allow for better access.
“No…No, please…” she started to beg, a pair of scissors being taken to her shirt and cutting it down the middle, spreading it wide. Beyond her view, Lorcan prayed silently to himself, before moving back to her, cross in hand. The others had continued mumbled prayer in his stead, continuing on without him until he raised the cross high above his head.
…And stopped.
A howl, loud, piercing the night and caused all motion, all chanting to cease for a brief, beautiful moment…only to pick up pace. They knew he was coming. He’d gotten out. He was coming for her.
“Sa Ainm agus ag an chumhacht ár dTiarna Íosa Críost, Féidir leat a bheith sciob ar shiúl agus a scaoiltear as an Eaglais na Dia agus ó na anamacha chuig an íomhá agus likeness Dé agus fhuascail an Fola lómhara an Uain Dhiaga!
Nathair an chuid is mó cunning, nach bhfuil níos mó a bheidh tú dare a mheabhlaireachta an cine daonna, persecute an Eaglais, tofa agus crá Dé sift iad mar cruithneacht!”
The cross was raised higher, the chanting practically screamed to be heard over her own. “FATHER, PLEASE!” she screamed for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to plead with him, to catch a glimmer of the man she’d grown up with, the father she knew. Not this man, not the one who’d hit her, who’d argued. The one that genuinely cared. “IF YOU LOVED ME AT ALL, YOU WOULDN’T DO THIS! PLEASE!”
“An chuid is mó Ard-Dia orduithe agat, Sé lena, i do insolence mór, éilíonn tú fós a bheith comhionann!”
Silence descended again as he met her gaze for the first time since the session started. A look was in his eyes, akin to a sort of caring, but still nothing like what she used to get as he cooed a verse she knew by heart, a verse she didn’t need quoted for her. “Dia atá ag iarraidh gach fir a shábháil agus a thagann go dtí an t-eolas ar an fhírinne…
Just like that, the cross was pressed to her, and the chanting took up full swing, her screams no longer intelligible, body on fire as the cross was pressed to her skin, her father’s cries and those of his peers the only thing that she heard outside her own heart’s beat. Outside the feeling that something wanted to burst out, outside the screams in her own head, somehow louder than those she loosed from her throat.
“Dia orduithe an Athair agat! Dia orduithe an Mac leat! Dia orduithe an Spiorad Naomh ort!”
Translations:
Quote:
“ In the Name of Jesus Christ,
our God and Lord,
strengthened by the intercession of the Immaculate Virgin Mary,
Mother of God,
of Blessed Michael the Archangel,
of the Blessed Apostles Peter and Paul and all the Saints.
and powerful in the holy authority of our ministry,
we confidently undertake to repulse the attacks and deceits of the devil.”
“ God arises;
His enemies are scattered
and those who hate Him flee before Him.
As smoke is driven away,
so are they driven;
as wax melts before the fire,
so the wicked perish at the presence of God.”
“In the Name and by the power of Our Lord Jesus Christ,
+ may you be snatched away and driven from the Church of God
and from the souls made to the image and likeness of God
and redeemed by the Precious Blood of the Divine Lamb.
+ Most cunning serpent,
you shall no more dare to deceive the human race,
persecute the Church,
torment God's elect and sift them as wheat.
+ The Most High God commands you,
+ He with whom,
in your great insolence,
you still claim to be equal.
"God who wants all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth." [1 Tim. 2:4)
God the Father commands you.
+ God the Son commands you.
+ God the Holy Ghost commands you.”
The chanting got louder and faster, which spurned his actions. Harder his feet pounded the ground, grass and dirt flung up behind him in the wake of his passing. Closer and closer he drew to the old church. More and more the man and wolf became one.
We have to protect her. Have to protect our pack. Have to save her.
Man and wolf chanted this over and over again. The goal single and complete with no deviation neither allowed nor wanted. All he wanted was to save her, make his pack whole once again and allow them both to be free once again. It was as her screams of pain filled the air that he entered the scene, all fur, fangs and rage. First to be knocked away was Lorcan, the silver cross clanging to the ground and sliding across the stone floor.
The other men emboldened by their faith left their current charge to defend their leader. Weapons raised and prepared to take on the beast stalled in their tracks when they beheld the full towering form of Eidhin. Last time they had seen him he had been a scared and weak teenager pleading with his father to be set free. Now he was both man and wolf. Strong, powerful and without the same fear that had crippled him before. Slowly he turned from where his father cowered, his gaze hard and wild as he locked eyes with each and every man there.
Then he roared.
The spittle flew from his open maw to splatter on the men who now stood with mouths agape at what could only be described as a demon. A living, breathing demon currently reared before them and there was little that they could do but stare. With a snarl he swiped their weapons from their hands, then snatched one up to hold him close to his face. Another growl and snarl, then he threw him into the group and roared at them again.
They scattered before him like so many cockroaches, many with soiled pants and tarnished pride.
The sound of metal scraping on stone drew his attention as he stared at the man who had once been his father. Stared at him while he brandished the cross once more, the object held as both shield and weapon. Hesitantly he stammered the prayer at him, his hands shook with the fear he refused to admit to.
With a slow cock of his head Eidhin regarded the man before him, then the cross and then the man once more. A low growl slipped past his fangs and he grasped the cross and held it. Even as it hissed and burned his hand he held it and stared at the man he once called father. Stared him in the eyes and just held the gaze until at last he shoved him away, cross still held in his hand. A victorious howl spilled forth and he bent the cross in half before he threw it into the woods.
Now, with chest heaving from the adrenaline and pain he went to Eilidh. A soft grunt of effort and her chains were broken, she was freed from the alter. At the sight of her wound he whimpered and nuzzled against her cheek then neck.
Safe. She was safe, his pack was safe.
Her screams were becoming two-toned, something else peeking through as her body bubbled, writhed in pain beneath her father’s steady hand. Something else was there, with her, in her mind. Nothing solidified, but more of a feeling, a presence that was making itself known in the pain it shared with Eilidh. It wasn’t only she who was nearly losing it as her body felt like it was burning from the outside in, as though every cell was about to explode and her body would simply be a pile of smoldering ash atop the old altar.
They’d both nearly lost it, eyes having squeezed closed as the pain wracked her form, entire body one burned lump of being as her father continued with the prayer, and then the feel of the cross being freed of her skin gave her a relief enough to open her eyes, to feel the new presence who’d entered the room.
Eidhin.
Eidhin had come for her. He’d come for her.
Panting as the men left her, ready to defend their Reverend, their exorcist, they took up their weapons, ready to fight…only to be taken aback. This Eidhin was, by no means, the same they’d encountered. Far from it.
Eilidh didn’t have to be there the first time to know the change was a big one. He was at his full height, all man and wolf, towering over them as his eyes, deadly, predatory, looked over each and every one. …And then he roared. Had he not been her Eidhin, her brother, her best friend, she’d have been petrified of this being before her. She’d have struggled to break free as this thing tore through them, terrifying as he snatched a man up, roaring again before throwing him into the group that then scattered.
Then…Lorcan stood, ready to defend, to fight against the demon who’d laid claim to Eidhin some time ago, scared out of his wits, crossed held firmly in front of him despite his shaking arm… But his stance didn’t last long. The color drained from his face as Eidhin gripped that cross, the pop of smoldering skin and the smell of burnt flesh hitting Eilidh like a ton of bricks the longer it continued, another roar given as he shoved thei-her father away and tossed the cross outside.
It wasn’t long before he was back to her, her brother, her friend, breaking the chains as her body trembled, going into a state of shock. His nuzzles were returned, her hands shakily rubbing him, holding him close…
But, it wasn’t over yet. No, not yet. The sight of them together, in such a way, had bile rising in the back of his throat.
He was done. Lorcan was done.
Grabbing up the discarded rifle, he staggered to his feet, ready to take a shot. Cocked, he didn’t wait, barely able to hold his arms still long enough to line up a shot, firing off a shot in their general direction. Barely winging her back as it passed, the shot was considerably wide, but a shot nonetheless, as he cocked back to get another one.
Soft sounds akin to whimpers were made at her touch and the knowledge that he had saved her. His eyes had fluttered closed and he had just begun to relax when the sound of a rifle cocking drew his attention. Ears lying back against his head, lips curled back into a warning snarl turned into a full growl when the shot was fired and Eilidh’s blood were spilled. Though it was a small amount it might as well have been an artery for the reaction from Eidhin.
Speed unnatural for anything else in the world allowed him to close the distance quickly between himself and Lorcan.
Throat now in his grasp, Eidhin lifted him and pinned him to the wall, his grip just tight enough to make breathing difficult for the brave though foolish man. Within himself, Eidhin warred with what to do with him. Whether to just squeeze until he crushed his wind pipe, or rip out his throat with his bare hands. There was always the option to tear his face off…so many ways to kill a man who seemed bent on harming those he loved.
Eyes on the stubborn gaze of his father and he lunged forward, mouth agape as if he were to sink his fangs right into his face.
Only to stop and instead again glare at the man and then roar in his face. Another moment of a stare down and then with his former father in tow he dragged the man out of the old church and up the largest tree he could find. There he left him dangling from a branch by the back of his shirt. It was for his mother’s sake that he left him there and did not give in to this desire to rid himself of this man. That done he returned to Eilidh and check on her wound.
Tonight was the end of a long nightmare and all he wanted to do was take her home and make sure she was safe.
Statistics: Posted by Asteria — Sat Apr 05, 2014 12:35 am