Lightning

1358 Words
I opened my eyes slowly. And immediately squeezed them shut at the sharp throbbing in my head. I was in bed - well, on a bed, anyway, but it wasn't familiar. I reached up to touch my forehead, winced again. Ow. Everything ached, in truth. I took my time sitting up, bracing a hand on the mattress beneath me for support. Frowning slightly, I traced my finger a little on the faded blue blanket. Definitely not my bed, but it wasn't Mac's either - Mac!! My eyes flew wide. I looked around wildly, searching for any sign of my uncle. The bed was against one wall of a large, mostly empty basement. There was a metal folding chair in the center of the floor. Some cardboard boxes and a case of water by the wooden staircase off to my left. A plain white door - a bathroom? - set into the alcove beneath the stairs. There wasn't much light coming through the dirty window set high into the cinder block wall on my right, but it was enough to see something that sent me scrambling backwards. My spine and skull smacked into cold concrete, but I hardly noticed. Straight across the room from me, was what I could only describe as a jail cell. Metal bars, ceiling to floor. It wasn't empty, either. He was deep in the shadows, sitting against his own wall. I couldn't make out much, except that he had long hair, a big frame - And glowing silver eyes - that were trained directly on me. Fuck. "Where's - " I croaked. I swallowed hard, tried again. "Where's Mac?" "I can't answer that," he said quietly. His voice was rich and deep, with that same lilting accent as the others. Christ - how many of these guys are there? "Can't?" I echoed. "Or won't?" I straightened up a little, taking a moment to check myself over. One bra strap and the upper swell of my breast were on full display. Thanks a lot, Declan. I adjusted my shirt as best I could, then pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. "Cannot," the man responded evenly. His eyes maintained that silver glow. It fascinated me almost as much as it unnerved me. "I know nothing of this person. Nor have I seen him, in the time I've been here. I'm sorry, ceann beag." "Okay, what does that mean?" I asked impulsively. "You're not the first person to say it to me." "Means 'little one' in my native tongue," he said, sounding amused. "'Native tongue' being...." "Irish. Gaelic. " "Ah. Makes sense with the accents," I acknowledged. "And the, uh, eyes?" "Hmm? Oh." Faster than I could blink - no more silver. "Better?" "Wow - uh, o - okay," I stammered, a little taken aback. "Um, thanks. I think." He acknowledged me with a slight incline of his head. "So,uh, wha-what's your name?" I asked, shifting my bottom a little. "Kieran. And you would be...?" "Um, Abigail. I mean, uh, just Abby," I stammered. "I'm Abby." "Abby," he repeated softly. "And this 'Mac' you spoke of?" "He's my uncle. He was with me when - well, uh, whatever 'this' is happened." I cleared my throat, pretending to scan the room again. I suddenly felt shy, for some reason. But there was also something in me, deep inside, that felt - comforted? - by him. I didn't know anything about this guy, but if he was down here with me - literally caged in - then it was a pretty safe bet that he wasn't with Declan. "Enemy of my enemy" , as they say. Silver eyes notwithstanding. "So, uh, Kieran," I said, testing his name on my tongue. "Can I ask you something?" "Aye," he said, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I'm gonna go out on a limb that you aren't working with Declan and his guys," I said, watching him cautiously. "But you obviously, uh, have something in common. The eye thing, I mean. So maybe you can fill me in a little on what the f**k is going on here?? "Part of me thinks I've had s-some kind of mental breakdown, or-or I'm dreaming , or-or-or- f**k, this can't be real. It just can't." My voice had been steadily rising, and I realized I was crying again. Shoving both hands back through my hair, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then let it out. And again - in, and out. And again. Calm down. You're no good to yourself or Mac if you lose your s**t now. "Steady on, lass," Kieran said in a low voice. "I can only imagine how frightening this all is to you." I huffed out a bitter laugh, scrubbing tears away with the heel of my hand. "Yeah. 'Frightening'. That's one way to put it." "Abby." I looked up. Kieran had moved - he now knelt close to the bars of his cell, gazing at me. Jesus - someone beat the hell out of him. His blue jeans were covered in dirt. And probably blood, based on the cuts and bruises covering his body from head to toe. He had some long, wicked-looking cuts (claw marks?) practically criss-crossing his body from shoulders to flanks. He had an incredible physique, with thickly muscled arms, chest and abdomen. He wore no shirt, and his feet were bare. I estimated him to be in his early thirties, same as the others. My eyes traveled up his body again. Long brown hair, hanging loose past his shoulders. A full beard. Dark eyes. Silver flashed again, even brighter this time. Like twin strikes of lightning. In the exact same moment, my body jerked slightly. I couldn't describe it. Something clicked. Kind of like a key turning in a lock, but way, way inside me, deep in the recesses of my mind. I know you. I swear I do. I was barely aware that I had gotten up off the bed at some point, or that I was slowly walking toward Kieran's cell. He didn't move, or take his eyes from mine. I stopped in front of the thick metal bars. Fuck. He had to be huge - even on his knees, and with me standing, we were nearly eye to eye. I reached out, tentatively, my fingers passing through the bars. Kieran's eyes closed as I trailed fingertips lightly down his cheek. His skin was incredibly hot to the touch. I traced along his beard, which felt softer than I expected. That sense of knowing washed over me again, stronger than before. Kieran murmured something I couldn't quite catch. Something about "mu chra", was what it sounded like, at least. He gently took my hand, and my breath caught in my throat as he brushed his lips across my knuckles. The kiss was light, but the instant heat that shot through my body was not. Whoa. The overhead light flickered on, startling us both. I spun around and ran back to my bed. Snatching up the blanket, I scooted back into the wall. I kept the blanket close to my chest as Declan, Torin, Rowan, and Liam descended the stairs. "Do ya get the feeling we interrupted something?" Liam asked, grinning as he glanced from Kieran to me. "How's the leg, Liam?" I returned innocently. Torin and Rowan snorted laughter. Liam glared at me, but a look from Declan kept him silent. Grabbing the folding chair, Declan brought it over. He set it down in front of my bed and sat on it backwards, resting his folded arms on top. "Alright, lass.Time for a little chat", he said. My eyes shifted to the elaborate tattoos that climbed up his forearms and biceps - they looked almost tribal, with their swirls and patterns. Then I met his eyes. Despite everything, I was still fascinated by their icy color. Too bad he's such a f*****g prick. I had a thousand questions, but the one I needed - dreaded - answered was the one I started with. "My uncle," I said quietly. "Is he alive?"
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