Intuition by Amy A. Bartol

Author:Amy A. Bartol
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: General Fiction
ISBN: 9781466266735
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2011-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Copper Mining

Delusion. It means a false belief or a mistaken notion. It’s different from denial, which is the refusal to face an unpleasant fact or the refusal to acknowledge the existence of something. With delusion, you never see the something coming in order to deny its existence. I have been delusional in believing that I had escaped Crestwood without detection. But delusion seems to be the prevailing problem with all of the beings I have encountered recently. They believe they can make me one of them, and that is not only delusional, it’s a myth.

I rouse in agonizing pain. Not only does my head ache from tripping head-first into the grass at top speed, it also aches from being pounded by Brennus’ fist. But, that is nothing compared to the pain coming from my severed tendon. It began to heal immediately, but it will be several hours before I can stand on it, which will effectively FUBAR my best means of escape. On top of that, the smell around me is enough to make me ill. It is a sticky, cloying scent that reminds me of being trapped in a bottle of perfume. I think I must have moaned when I came to that conclusion because Finn looks back at me from the front seat of the car to ask worriedly, “Genevieve, are ye gonna boke?”

“Huh?” I ask weakly, because he is kind of hard to understand.

“Retch? Are ye gonna retch?” he asks with impatience. He then turns to Brennus, who is driving the car, and says, “I jus got dis bleedin’ beemer, and why is it dat all yous wans do na understand plain Anglish?”

Brennus doesn’t answer him so he turns to me for answers. “You will have to tell me what a ‘wan’ is,” I say through clenched teeth as I choke on the pain.

With a look of frustration he says, “Ye are a wan—a lass—a waman.” Finn draws out the last word, trying to make it more clear.

“A woman?” I ask for clarity.

“’Tis,” he responds, like he doesn’t have a word that means “yes.”

“I’m not familiar with your slang. How long have you been here?” I ask, trying to gain a frame of reference for what they are and how long they’ve been in the area.

“Longer than ye,” Finn answers.

“You know how long I’ve been here?” I ask as dread consumes me.

“I do,” he replies.

“How?” I ask.

“A lil’ bird told us,” he says cryptically.

“Finn, that’s not an answer,” I say.

“’Tis,” he replies with a sharp nod.

“Not a good answer,” I amend, and then I stick my finger down my throat and retch all over his new beemer.

“Ach, Genevieve! Ye banjaxed me beemer! Ye bleedin’ hallion,” he says in disgust as he sinks dejectedly in his seat. Brennus, however, finds it funny as he peers at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes twinkling in approval.

Brennus pats his brother’s shoulder. “Yer wan can clean it for ye, Finn,” he says, placating Finn who opens the window to get some air in the car.

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