Fire Angel by Connie C. Scharon

Author:Connie C. Scharon [C. Scharon, Connie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2014-05-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Her first glimmer of consciousness came like a brief shining light in the darkness, the soft image of a man wiping her brow with a damp cloth. Skye felt the droplets of water caress her lips and flicked out her tongue to capture some moisture to soothe her parched throat.

The man stroked her forehead. He was tall and foreboding with a dark complexion, but somehow he vaguely reminded her of her cousin Liam. He faded into the black floating limbo from which she could not seem to escape. Dimly she was aware of his voice. The voice was a buzz echoing in her head, his image a blur she could not bring into focus.

She tried to call out, but slipped back into the void. This transient state of slipping in and out of a world she couldn't reach and the darkness she couldn't conquer persisted for what seemed an eternity. She had the feeling of passage of time yet no true measure of how long or where she was.

From time to time, she felt hands upon her flesh, gentle and soothing. Whenever she opened her eyes, the blurred image would talk to her. It seemed like he wanted something from her, but she could not fathom what that might be. Her infirmity was frightening in its completeness. She had no voice, no motion, no clear sight, only the blurs and whirs of a world apart from her. Then there was the unrelenting darkness, always swallowing her up just when she thought she might be able to reach this being who cared for her.

She was sure that was what he was doing, and his persistence moved her to tears. It was her first true sensation. The dark man wiped her face with the wonderful cool cloth and gently brushed aside her hair. Skye heard him humming as he worked over her. The tune was one of the old Scottish ballads, a tale of love and war. Then it struck her—at last, she recognized the sound, heard it clearly!

Tears streamed down her cheeks and she felt the warm wetness, licked away the salty droplets as they rolled down across her lips. The man working over her stopped abruptly.

"Are you finally awake, sweet mermaid?"

"Aye," she whispered, but her voice came out as a dry croaking sound.

"Let me get you a drink," the man said, pressing a goblet to her lips.

Skye took a sip of the cool water and almost choked. The image of the man hovering over her became clearer. "Who are you?"

"A question I might ask you, sweet mermaid."

Trying to pull herself to a sitting position, Skye attempted to focus on her surroundings. There was rolling motion in the whole room—a ship. She was on a ship. It must be the Friar's Lady. Had they saved her from the sea? The last thing she remembered was going overboard and sinking into the murky depths.

Her hair was free and hung loosely around her shoulders. No use pretending she was a deckhand any longer.

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