CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 8

Catherine was suddenly released and pushed to the side. Conall ran inhumanly fast at Kathleen. She screamed, though it was promptly stifled as he picked her up by the neck and started to choke her. A smile spread wide across his face. Catherine steadied herself, then looked up in horror. She threw herself at him, but Conall was like a heavy bronze statue, entirely unmoving. She felt weak and helpless. Catherine began to panic.

Kathleen cried and gasped for air. She tried to pry at Conall's hands and arms. She tried to kick and push, but Conall kept his grip firm and looked over at Bowen with a smirk. He relished Bowen's pained and tortured face as he watched helplessly. He looked down at Catherine like an evil cat over a trapped mouse, and upon seeing her sorrow, he became frenzied with excitement. Looking back at Kathleen, he brought her nearer to him and with a flick of his wrist, snapped her neck and let her body drop. In one horrid instant, Kathleen was gone. Her body lay limp on the ground as lingering tears wet the dirt beneath her.

When Catherine heard the cracking of cartilage and bones, everything stopped. Shocked into silence and stillness, she felt her sister ripped away from within her. Now there was nothing. Catherine dropped to her knees. She grabbed her head with both hands, her nails dug into her scalp, and she released a bloodcurdling scream with her eyes squeezed shut.

Conall motioned for his followers to let go of Bowen. He ran to Kathleen's body and felt her pulse. She was gone.

Conall stood over him. “This is only the beginning of your suffering, Bowen.” He spit out his name in disgust, as though it were a creeping, crawling thing. Then Conall looked over at the tall man who had tried to warn him about the omen and said, “Don't worry, I'll kill the other twin soon enough.”

The man nodded humbly in acknowledgment.

Bowen looked sorrowful, and his hands rested palms upward on his thighs. He raised his eyes from the empty vessel that once held the soul and spirit of Kathleen. They met Conall's. Conall seemed unsettled by this but didn't react.

“How can you keep doing this to innocent people, Conall? I was right that day when I told them you had gone mad. You can't control it, can you? Are you completely gone now?” Bowen asked, his gaze searching Conall's face as though desperately trying to see through a fog in the distance. He hoped to see a glimpse of a man he once knew instead of the distorted person standing before him.

“I told you I'd make you speak to me again, Bowen. You made me do this. It has always been your doing. Her blood is on your hands, not mine. Just like the blood of—” he stopped short and shivered violently. His eyes were filled with panic and pain. One of his followers, though she had originally been from a different druid order, came up to Conall and put her hands on his head. Conall still shook but was drawn to her face. “Thank you, my sister,” he whispered. He seemed weakened then and laid his head in his own hands to weep. The woman moved her arms around him for comfort as they turned away. She peered back at Bowen and narrowed her eyes in hatred.

Bowen watched them walk away toward the hills. Their figures didn't take long to disappear in the darkening twilight. Darkness seemed to be rapidly pouring itself over the land. Bowen dreaded what was to come, not just with Conall but in the next few moments. He turned to see Catherine, a blank stare on her face. She didn't flinch when Bowen crouched closely in front of her, trying to see into her eyes through the dark. Her soft, boney hands and fingers felt icey when he touched them. He wrenched his hand back in surprise. Her face looked ghostly in the night. “Catherine?”

Silence.

Bowen became afraid. “Catherine?” He stood her up with him and then gently shook her. He held her close to him and rubbed his hands up and down her back to try to warm her. His face buried down in her neck and he could feel she was breathing steadily, though all of her exposed flesh was cold and clammy due to her sweating in the cold. Bowen pushed her back to look at her face again, his hands rubbing her cheeks.

“Please,” he said quietly, “show me you're still there.”

Catherine blinked, and slowly her eyes cleared. She saw Bowen before her. “Bowen.”

“Yes, it's me.” He hugged her close, turning her away from the cold, lifeless body on the ground.

“I saw you. You saved us! Kathleen will be so relieved. What happened? Where did everyone go?”

Bowen said nothing but kept holding her tightly. Catherine grew nervous. She flinched involuntarily. “Bowen,” she said slowly, “where's Kathleen?”

Bowen squeezed tighter. “I'm sorry. Just keep breathing, Catherine,” he said, his voice muffled in the neck of her jacket.

Catherine's breath hitched. “Let go of me. Where the hell is my sister, Bowen?”

Bowen pulled away and turned his head. He didn't want to see what was coming. He didn't want to see Catherine destroyed again. Catherine glared at him for a moment, then looked around and realized for the first time how dark it was. She somehow knew that something terrible had happened. She felt an emptiness she had never experienced before. She was no longer her whole self.

After she turned around, Catherine stood still. She stared down at her sister for a few moments before slowly scooping her up in her arms and sitting down in one fluid motion. She held Kathleen close, looked into her face and caressed her cheeks.

“Kathleen?” she whispered once, and then again louder. Each time she grew increasingly hysterical.

“Kathleen, please. KATHLEEN!” She screeched painfully and buried her face in Kathleen's chest, sobbing as she rocked back and forth.

Bowen stood a few steps away. Her wretched state clawed at his heart. After some time, he noticed it was getting unbearably cold. The night had crept in entirely, and Catherine had fallen silent and still. She stared out ahead.

Bowen held back his own sadness and crouched down to grab Catherine's shoulder. “We need to go get help, Catherine. We can't stay here any longer,” he said gently.

Catherine stopped moving and said rigidly, “No.”

“Catherine?”

“I'm not leaving her here alone!” she yelled, and looked straight up at Bowen. Though it was dark, the light of the starry sky let Bowen see her torn face and the tears that streamed down her cheeks to fall from her chin. It wracked his spirit.

Catherine ripped Bowen's hand off her shoulder and viciously threw herself at him.

“Catherine, stop! Stop!” Bowen grabbed at her flailing arms and fists.

Catherine grew weak and let her head fall on Bowen's chest, her balled fists on either side. Bowen relaxed his grip and put his arms around her shaking body.

“Catherine,” he said with severity in his voice, “listen to me. This is not the place to do this. I will get you home, and everything will be better, but you must do as I say. Let me help you.”

When no answer came, he grabbed her so they were face to face. “Catherine, I genuinely care about you,” he said seriously. Catherine could see the concern in his eyes and snapped herself into a state coherent enough to follow directions.

“I—I don't want her to be left here alone.” She looked down forlornly.

Bowen looked thoughtfully at Kathleen's dead body for a moment. “Okay,” he said, and letting go of Catherine, he leaned down to scoop the body up into his arms. “Let's go.”

Catherine lingered over the spot Kathleen had been, where she had held her closely to her chest. She closed her eyes, remembering what it felt like to feel Kathleen's face warm on her neck. She balled her fists again and clenched them to her collarbone. She remembered what it was like just a short time ago to feel Kathleen's arms hugging her back.

“Catherine, come with me,” Bowen's voice called to her from a short distance away, heading toward the direction of home.

***

Danny led Catherine to her room and sat her down on the bed. Catherine didn't move, staring ahead with a silent blankness.

“I'm not going to . . . I can't deal with this,” Danny stammered, but Catherine said nothing.

Danny looked at his sister's stricken face and realized she resembled an empty shell. He understood. His own heart ached in his chest, and he felt sick to his stomach. He wanted badly to go to sleep and never wake up again. He wanted to talk to Catherine about it, to tell her how he felt, to ask her what she saw and how their sister was taken from them. He was angry, but he was more sad than angry right now. Danny didn't want to cause Catherine any more pain. She already looked like she would never be the same again.

“Catherine, I'll check on you in a little while. Try to sleep,” he said, moving his hand gently through the crown of her hair. Just like Kathleen's hair. That fact both helped him and hurt him.

When Danny left the room, Catherine remained exactly as she was. Her face was sunken, and dark circles traced her puffy eyes. She seemed to have aged a full decade in that one night. At first, she was as still as stone, but slowly she started to fidget with her now warm hands. She nervously picked at a small hole in the fabric of her long-sleeved shirt. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind, including Danny's last words to her.

Some morning light streamed into her room. The entire night had passed. Sleep, Danny had said. She could never sleep again, or so she felt. Never the same. It would be nothing but tortured and fitful hours of struggle for sleep for her now. No, it would be easier to stay awake and die from exhaustion.

***

Bowen sat on a large padded chair in the living room downstairs, his chin resting on his hand. He thought about Conall, about the night trying to stabilize Catherine long enough to get her home to a safe place. He slowly blinked away the memory of how empty she had looked when he told Danny what happened. What would he do now that Conall was released? How could he keep him away from Catherine, and stop his plans? He didn't know.

Danny appeared then, leaning in the archway and eyeing him suspiciously. Bowen closed his eyes.

“She needs to know what's behind all of this. Frankly, so do I,” he told Bowen flatly.

Bowen nodded before returning Danny's gaze. “You're right, of course.” He waited.

Danny walked over and sat across from Bowen, eyes narrowed. “Bowen, is it?”

“Yes.”

“I'm going to tell you what I think, okay?” Danny asked, and Bowen nodded his assent.

“I'm thinking you should go tell my sister what she needs to know so she can eventually find closure. I'm also thinking that when that's over, you need to leave and never come back. I don't want to see you, and I don't want my sister to see you. I don't know who you are, and really, I just don't care. You have no business being in our lives, so you need to leave as quickly as you arrived,” he said in an even tone.

Bowen listened intently. He was used to all manner of hostility by now. “I do not blame you for hating me, Danny,” he said, “and I understand if you hold me accountable for Kathleen's death.”

Danny blinked slowly and leaned back on the couch.

“I'm sorry I couldn't stop him from killing her. I am so terribly sorry you lost her,” Bowen finished.

Danny's eyes were red from stress and tears. He clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and moved to stand over Bowen for a brief moment. He looked conflicted, then steadied himself.

“I may forgive you. We'll see if Catherine will,” he said before leaving the room.