He tossed restlessly in his sleep. Haunted by dreams that replayed themselves endlessly. His heart pounded in his sleep, and fine sheen of sweat broke out over his body as the images replayed themselves over and over. These dreams had been plaguing him for weeks now. He woke briefly, brown eyes dark and haunted, staring at the shadows in his room. He groaned and turned over, pulling the warm sheets higher. His eyes closed and he drifted off again. Only to have the dreams begin anew.

The forest was dark and forbidding, giant maples and ancient oaks. he peered through the thick brush watching the scene unfold before his eyes. She had been stripped naked, her limbs bound between two posts. She kept trying to free herself. He could see the painted bodies dancing and leaping in the firelight. He saw the blood running down her wrists, thin red black lines coursing down her sides. He could tell she was half starved. Thin arms and legs, ribs standing in sharp shadows. He knew beyond a doubt wot her fate would be. Come moonrise, she’d be branded and her body violated, her throat would be slit and the blood offered to the gods. He could slip away right now.. Gods only knew how his folk have suffered from these heathens. but for some reason, he stayed. He looked out from the dense curtain of brush and formulated a plan. He gazed up at the moon, he’d have time to set the plan in motion. He slunk back into brush, and led his horse away. He mounted and rode to the east as soon as he was out of earshot. He knew where the palisade was, and in moments had arrived. The watch took notice of him and silently let him pass. He rode to the longhouse, leaped from his saddle, and ran in. The chieftain and the war leader listened, and then the three ran outside screaming orders. Bodies ran every which direction in response to the issued commands. He watched the moon’s stately march across the velvet sky, shifting from foot to foot. He checked the lay of his weapons and made sure his bow was strung. the fire arrows close at hand and ready. His sensitive fingers easily feeling the differences in the fletching. He turned when he heard the clatter of hooves. He mounted and fell in beside his older brothers. They left their horses tethered and the party quickly surrounded the group who were now dancing naked, the brands heating in the fire. He breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been fearful that they wouldn’t make it in time. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to look up into the familiar faces of his half brothers. He could see the calm understanding, and he knew that they would keep a tentative eye on him. He’d only earned his rank as warrior just the previous winter. If he was lucky, this would be a damn good time for him to gain some experience with relatively low risk. He nodded to them and pulled an arrow from the quiver at his belt. He and his kin took up positions behind the bound figure, at this close proximity, the three of them could see her bones clearly. Bruises and half healed wounds stood in stark contrast on her fair skin. NO woman should be treated like this. He gently smoothed the fletching, set the arrow on his long bow. He sighted on his target and waited for the signal.

She hung her head. and resigned herself to her fate. She knew why she’d been chosen to be the sacrifice. Her parentage had always been in question. She was too small in height and in body. it was no secret that her mother was of low status. When she left the clan and left for a brief time, and returned with a babe in arms, she knew that her daughter would lead a hard life. But there had been no choice. it was either return or starve. No man in the clan would accept her as mate. not even as a second or third wife. She managed to eke out a meager existence, She taught her daughter how to tend a home, to cure hides, she taught her everything she could, but in the end it wouldn’t be enough. The woman tugged again at her bindings, but knew it was hopeless. The leather straps cut into her wrists and ankles, she knew it was only a matter of time. She thought about her mother, She’d caught an illness in the fall rains, and even though she’d hung on doggedly, in her weakened and half starved state, it was too much. She’d breathed her last gasp just before the new moon. She had sat at her mother’s side, and had tended her during her last days. Standing stony faced when her mother’s body had been laid to rest, she knew beyond a doubt that her days had been numbered. She sat the rest of the winter in the dark and empty dwelling and waited the spring when she could leave the clan.

But then came the horrific day when the thin watery sun had been slowly consumed. A great mouth had slowly eaten it, and turned day into shadowy night. The shaman had decreed that it was because that they were harboring a wicked one in their midst. He demanded that the evil one be sacrificed. As his bony aged finger pointed at her, the sun slowly peeked out of the great mouth. Hands grasped her holding her pinning her thin arms to her side. More sun appeared. She cried out in pain when she felt the hard thuds of sticks, fists and cudgels. Hands on her body, pushing her to the ground, her hands were bound behind her back, and her legs and feet bound tightly together.

She heard a soft rustling in the brush behind her, and she hoped that it was one of the night animals. Perhaps a bear. A big and hungry one, one that could kill her quickly. But as she waited no sharp claws pierced and lacerated her body. she watched through half closed eyes as the shaman approached her. She gasped as his hand cruelly twisted in her hair. He yanked her head back, his black eyes burning with hate. He began to chant sonorously, and one of the men quickly brought a pair of glowing iron brands. She lifted her chin, defiant and proud. She felt the heat of the brand so close to her skin, She could almost feel it burning into her, she knew the second would penetrate and violate her. So in the next life she could bear no offspring. The men neared and flanked the shaman, waiting for the signal. The words droned on, and the old man raised his skinny arms. When they dropped, all she could do was hope the searing pain would send her into oblivion.

He woke up feeling queasy. He thought that maybe getting something to eat and a drink might calm him down. So he got out of bed and shambled down to the hotel bar. He did feel better after something to eat. He sipped his tea and mulled over the dreams. they’d been hazy at first, getting stronger and clearer over time. It was like he’d seen that woman before. But damned if he knew where. He gave himself a mental shrug, “Rick, too many movies, and wrong kind of books.” Not once did he ever see the woman’s face, long auburn hair, short stature, but nicely built. In his mind’s eye, he saw the soft round hips, full breasts, and smooth skin. He felt the gentle tug from his nether region. he’d seen and loved many women in his career, but something about this phantom, this ghost from his dreams. He knew he couldn’t get back to sleep, so he sat and watched for the coming dawn.

He noticed a woman walking up the sidewalk. She was dressed in a slim navy pin stripe suit, carrying a laptop case. Her rich auburn hair piled neatly up on her head. She walked by him, and he watched the rear action with interest. She walked up to the door and walked inside. From his vantage point, Rick could see her clearly. She walked into the bar, and greeted the bartender. He listened as they greeted each other. He poured her a cup of tea, and she sat down in booth nearby. She walked right by him, and he breathed in her perfume. Soft round bum made for cupping, slim calves encased in silk, navy pumps. He felt a familiar twitch. Slender waist, full round breasts. She slid into the seat, and sipped her tea. he could see dark teal blue eyes surrounded by dark lashes. She slid her laptop out and a sheaf of papers.

He listened as she typed, watching her with very real interest. It had been a hell of a long time since a woman had caught his attention so completely. He was close enough to hear clearly, when an older man slid into the booth opposite her. From the conversation he found her name was Cyra Rostanov. and she was to present a lecture tonight. Apparently, she was an historian, and she specialized in folklore. He smiled. Mal knew everyone... perhaps Mal could perform one of his minor miracles and get him a pass or tickets. He wanted to meet this woman, but NOW was not the time nor the place. He watched as the two of them finished their tea, and left. Rick smiled into his cup, drained it and went to go find Mal. To Rick’s utter astonishment, Mal not only had tickets, but he knew the woman!! Mal gleefully offered to introduce her to Rick.

Rick sat quietly in his seat and listened to the lecture. Her voice was soft, slightly husky, and wonderful. She was authorative, concise, but yet she used humor. She spoke of mythical creatures like vampires and werewolves, superstitions, and how superstition impacted human history. She spoke of ‘The Burning Times’ in Europe, how so many innocent souls met horrible ends. As Rick listened, he thought of his own country’s history. He found he was more interested in her than ever. Not only easy on the eyes, but charming, intelligent, and witty. Mal sat, totally aware of Rick’s interest. He debated telling him the truth about Cyra. But for some reason, he kept his silence.

Mal and Rick stood at the back and waited until the crowd died off. She was picking up her notes, tapping them into a neat pile when they approached Cy, great as always. Mal told her, folding her in a warm hug “you always could play an audience like a lute. She chuckled and gave Mal a kiss full on his lips. Rick’s stomach dropped. First woman he’s seen in a long time that has interested him, and she belongs to a damn good friend. Well, it was too late to back out now, just make the best of it, and try and make a graceful exit.

With a jerk, he realized that Mal was talking to him. He smiled and felt a cool feminine hand slide into his. He felt a slight shiver run through his body. He looked down into her eyes. They were soft and warm. The color of a tropical night. Her lips looked very kissable, full lower lip, softly pink. “Cyra here is a good friend of my family.” Mal was saying. He was perfectly aware of the undercurrent running between these two. He knew Rick was interested in Cy, and judging from the look in her eyes, she was interested in him. Both of them have been alone too much, and too lonely. Rick heard wot Mal said, she was a friend of his family.. she wasn't his... Her hand still lay in his. he lifted it to his lips, and kissed the back of it. and he heard her barely audible gasp. He let his eyes gaze into hers and turned on the charm.

Cyra was tickled when she saw her old friend out in the sea of faces, but when he greeted her, and saw the handsome friend he had with him, it was all she could do to keep her mind on the pleasantries. Ages of searching for her lost love and mate, and here he was standing in front of her. She wanted to fold him in her arms, feel his skin on hers, his lips. when he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed them to her skin, she felt the pull in her soul, and a heat down below. She gasped softly, unable to stop it. but when she met those warm eyes, so soft and beguiling, she knew the battle was lost before it even begun. Mal asked her if she wanted to join them for dinner or a drink, she hesitated briefly, and then agreed. She gathered up her papers and her overcoat, and the three of them left the auditorium. Rick lay in his bed and thought over the night. the three of them had shared a companionable evening. He found out that She and Mal had been friends for a good many years, she was single, unattached, very pretty. Intelligent, wonderful conversationalist. Rick wanted to get to know her much better. They’d offered to give her a lift to the hotel she was staying at. Rick managed to get her phone number and room number. He promised to call her, and dammit, he meant it.

As he drifted off he could see her smile, and her laughing blue eyes. But in the dark corners of his mind, something lay. Dark and forbidding, haunting and waiting. Waiting for him to drift into deeper slumber, it sat lurking, dark, ugly and wicked.

The battle raged. They thought it would be an easy one. But they had overlooked the fanatical mind set. His arrow had been the one that sent the burning red iron brands tumbling to the ground, and his two tawny older brothers had shot the shaman. one arrow to the gut, the other in his scrawny chest. He pulled his dagger, shielding her body from stray shots with his own. He sliced thru her ankle ties first, he knew she was staring at him, he could feel her eyes raking him. He heard the missiles whistling thru the air. the thrum of bowstrings. but he never wavered from his task.

He was sawing thru the last rope binding her to the poles when the arrow imbedded itself in his thigh with a meaty thunk. He grunted with the impact, and bit his lip to keep from moaning from the pain. He limped back into the brush. His oldest brother Tomas grabbed his arm And together they ran to the picketed ponies. His middle sibling had the woman with him. He’d wrapped her in a fur lined cloak and was now mounted and waiting.

Cyril mounted his pony, his leg was throbbing, but now was not the time to deal with it. They needed to get the hell out of here. They’d probably lose a few warriors, but still. They not only got the chief, and seconds but they also got the Shaman. this would be a battle long remembered, with many songs sung to honor it. They had all gotten mounted up, when the Chieftain suddenly melted out of the dark. His dark eyes excited, he told them to leave, and head up to the surrounding hills, not back to the encampment. They all knew why, it was just no one wanted to say it. Cyril reached down for the captive, the chieftain tossed her up on the leather pad and the three of them rode out and away from the battle. They pulled their steaming animals up. Many miles had been covered by dawn.

Cyril glanced down at the woman laying bonelessly silent over the pony’s withers. A whispered discussion, and they slid from the saddles. Tomas walked over and helped pull their prize down. She sat down with a thud, disoriented and sick. Tomas glanced at his brother and laid his big hand on the shaft of the arrow. He took a deep breath, knowing wot he was about to do would be painful. when he felt a small hand on his. the two of them looked up, and met a pair of deep blue eyes. “Push through, not out, break point.” she said in a soft halting voice. She bent and looked at the wound. it had gone in clean with the grain of the muscle. She laid her knee on Cyril’s thigh, and nodded. with a surge of his broad shoulders, Tomas shoved it all the way through his leg. then he snapped the head of the arrow off. She then slid the shaft out. Cyril screamed when it went through, dizzy with the pain. But instinctively he knew she was right. this would cause less damage, but it sure hurt.

They bandaged his leg with a broad strip of leather, mounted their ponies and left. leaving the pieces of arrow lying in the bloodstained grass. Rick tossed and turned restlessly, his heart pounded in his chest, and let out a scream when he dreamed of the arrow being pulled from his flesh. He sat up in his bed, and looked around. He groaned and flopped back down staring at the ceiling. This was getting bloody old. he looked at the clock. Seven in the damn morning. he sighed and threw back the covers. He walked in to the loo and turned on the water. The warmth was soothing, relaxing him. washing away the disturbing dream.

As he sat having his breakfast, he tried to think when the dreams had begun. he was surprised to find he’d been having them for the past month. As he sat staring into the depths of his cup, the phone rang in the other room. It was Joe. Something strange had happened to the studio. Apparently someone had broke in and stolen personel files along with a few personal items. But the masters were untouched. Odd. Rick sighed and told Joe that he’d be right in. And he pushed the puzzle of the strange haunting dreams to the back of his mind. when he arrived, Mal and Viv were there. they stood looking at the mess when the door opened.

Cyra walked in carrying a couple brooms and a large cardboard box. She smiled and greeted Rick, handing Vivian the box. Viv and Mal sorted thru the debris while Rick and Cyra swept. “Cy?” Viv asked after about two hours. She turned to look at him, a smile playing on her lips. “Yes, Vivian.. I’ll tell a story. Which one?” “Please do ‘Harpstrings’ again.” He said promptly. Rick saw her sit sharply back on her haunches. She looked at Viv and then at Rick. “Very well.” She stood up and swept the remaining clutter into a pile and waited for Rick to set the dust pan in place. They swept it up, and sat down on the floor for a break.

Rick listened as her voice took on an odd sing-song quality, strangely hypnotic and compelling. Her face grew pensive, and she began to recite. In the days of the great castles, there was a chieftain. His wife bore him twin daughters the elder daughter had hair as dark as night. she was the dancer, her body and movements lovely and graceful. Her sister, the younger, was golden as the sun. She was the singer, her voice was sweet and pure as first love in the spring. Together these daughters earned renown through out the land. The Chieftain’s keep was known as a place where beauty, grace, harmony, love and laughter was a living breathing entity.

Then came the day that a traveling Harper came. Tall, handsome, educated, clever with sweet words. he charmed the keep with the sound of his playing, and his singing. In the evenings, he’d play and one sister would sing with him. Voices rising in harmony achingly true. While the elder would dance. Soon it became apparent that the Harper was playing both sisters. The Chieftain, aware of the friction, ordered the Harper to choose one sister. he did. Breaking custom, he set his eye on the fair-haired sunny singer.

Jealousy soon reared it’s ugly head. the eldest, watched with hooded eyes from the shadows. She watched as the pair would laugh together. Touch, and snuggle together. and at night, she watched her sister leave her bed and walk down the darkened corridors to her lover’s bed. Anger and spite filled her. but she bided her time. And one day it happened. The chieftain asked the Harper to deliver a missive to a neighboring keep. The younger twin watched him leave, tears in her eyes. The eldest twin also watched, and smiled.

The golden twin cried and her twin consoled her, asking if she’d like to walk along the shore. Eager to find anything to take her mind off the loneliness, the fair twin agreed. Cloaked and hooded against the chill, they walked along the slick rocks. The younger twin slipped on the rocks, screaming, for her sister to aid her. but her sister only watched and smiled, while the black water pulled her under. Her golden hair streaming about her, her hands reaching in vain for the light and the air. The dark twin finally left, once she was certain her rival was gone for good.

She ran back to the castle, weaving a tale of how her sister had fallen and was pulled out to sea before she could help her. The Chieftain grieved, and so did the Harper, who returned a few days later. He cried honest tears over her loss. and spent many hours on the windswept shore searching for the body of his love. But finally bowing to the inevitable and the pressure to stay, he chose the eldest twin. the date was set for their wedding, and the call went out for musicians. One answered the call. A friend of the groom. he right away left for his friends wedding.

Along the way, he saw something on the sharp rocks. Curious, he climbed down. There among the rocks and kelp, he saw the body of a maiden with bright golden hair. Unable to stop himself, he pulled out his knife and removed a lock of hair. He notified the next keep of the maiden’s body. After showing the searchers, he looked at the lock of spun gold. A harper, he set the lock in his harp, and played. Sweet and true were the notes. As he worked his way to his friend’s side, the harper would stop for the night, and as per custom, he paid for his meal and bed with song. Word spread of the harper whose harp was strung with liquid gold, and whose song rang sweet and pure. He finally arrived the day of the wedding. And he lifted his harp to give the couple his gift of music. But the notes that rang weren’t notes at all, they became words. The harper seemed in a trance as he played.

The words rang through out the hall, telling the tale of twin sisters, The younger sister’s kind voice murmured. “I slipped upon the rocks, and I begged my twin for aid, but she helped me NOT! She watched as the water pulled me under, laughed at my screams of terror. I am buried up the coast, found by a harper. And so, to my Father, I send my respects. To my beloved, I send my love, please grievest not for me, your life is long, find peace and happiness. And to my twin, my sister who watched me die. I send thee curses. I curse thee to dream of my death. I curse thee to forever hear my death song. Peace unknown shall you find. forever to walk. “ And it is said that to this day on that wild rocky Irish coast, the jealous twin walks, forever seeking forgiveness that she’ll never find, and among the rocks, sometimes you’ll see a glimmer of golden hair, and hear the sigh of Harpstrings.

Cyra’s voice faded away, as three pairs of eyes watched in rapt attention. then all three sighed. Cyra chuckled and stood up. “Well, I don’t know about you three, but I need something to drink and a shower, in that order.” she picked up a faded denim jacket. Mal grinned at Rick, “Didn’t you mention tha’ you got a new artifact to add to yer collection?” “Yes, I only got it about a month ago, so I really haven’t had the time to have it checked out.”

Rick paused and looked at Cyra. “I know you’re a historian, do you have any knowledge about Manuscripts? I recently acquired one, but I can’t make heads or tails out of it.” His voice trailed off. “Yes, I only got it about a month ago, so I really haven’t had the time to have it checked out.” Rick paused and looked at Cyra. “I know you’re a historian, do you have any knowledge about Manuscripts? I recently acquired one, but I can’t make heads or tails out of it.” His voice trailed off. Cyra looked at Rick, “Can I trust you?” Mal laughed, “If it was Joe ye were asking, I’d be tellin’ ye to never turn yer back f’ a second. But this lad is dependable and decent”

“Then yes, I’ll have a look at it.” Cyra replied. She stood holding the manuscript in the soft light.. it was indeed very old, and there was something about it that was odd. Cyra’s vampire senses were screaming at her, she didn’t know just what it was yet. but she would. It was an ancient tale about three brothers, and the battle for power and control between two tribes. Cyra set it down on the desk. and picked up her pen and the pad of paper and laboriously began to translate it. as the tale emerged, she felt a presence come stand behind her.

Rick looked over her shoulder and read wot she had written. A cold chill slid up his back. the words mirrored his dreams. Cyra sensed him shiver and turned to look up into his eyes. Cyra very carefully probed his mind, then she stood up and laid her hands on his face. “Tell me Rick, what do you see?” she asked him in a soft crooning voice. Rick’s eyes went curiously blank as Cyra’s will overpowered his.

He began to tell of the dreams. He told her of the forest, the battle that raged. he spoke of the flight. he told her everything he saw and experienced. Finally satisfied, Cyra’s eyes locked on his, “You will not remember this artifact, you never got this one, you got a different one. you will not remember the dreams, but you will remember me coming to look at it.”

She then compelled him to sit on the couch his mind asleep and numb. Grabbing the parchment, Cyra flew out the door and returned to her home. She hurridly sorted thru papers, finding the one she wanted, she flew back to Rick’s home, and replaced the one manuscript for another. A lovely 14th century Illuminated Manuscript, then she carefully curled up next to him on the couch, and then she released her control of his mind. Rick blinked, and then felt a warm body next to him. He grinned, Cyra was so totally engrossed in the parchment, that she didn’t even realize that she was leaning against him. He was also very pleased that she felt that comfortable enough with him. He carefully slid his arm down from the back of the couch and nestled her a bit closer.

“Rick, I thought Stumpus said you were trustworthy?” Cyra told him. He chuckled warmly and nuzzled the top of her head. “I am. Joe would have tried to tumble you into bed by now. All I want to do is just hold you. She twisted around and gazed up into his warm brown eyes. She saw his mouth descend.. the warmth of his breath fanning her face.. Rick couldn’t believe a single kiss could so rock his world. as soon as his lips touched Cyra’s, it felt as though something missing was found, like a part of his very being was awakened.

Time seemed to slow and then stop as her lips parted under his. he slid his tongue in her mouth and tasted her. It was just sooooo right. Bodies shifted of their own accord, drawing closer to each other. Cyra moaned softly as Rick’s hand brushed against her breast. she arched into him and she heard his sudden swift intake of breath. Their tongues rubbed and slid over each other’s as breathing became ragged and faster. Emotions roared and Rick knew he needed to feel this woman under him, needed to feel skin slide over skin. to plunge into her hot silky depths. somehow she was under him.. denim scraped against denim, as their hips rubbed.. grinding into each other.

“Oh, my god, Cyra.. I... I need.. Damn!” Rick groaned into her neck. “S’all right Rick, I understand, I need you too. I need to feel you.” Cyra breathed softly. He looked into her eyes, they were so dark, hot and passionate. His fingers deftly opened the buttons on her silk shirt, baring her full creamy breasts to him. His head dipped and tasted them. His tongue tracing the shape on her nipples. Cy moaned softly, and her fingers buried themselves in his thick burnished hair. She felt him drawing and pulling. suckling. then his fingers on the closure of her jeans. Her hips lifted and they were tugged down her slim calves. Rick stroked the silky thighs, feeling the heat and dampness of her arousal. He quickly shed his clothes and felt her hands on bare skin.

Cy moaned when she felt his warm mouth suckling the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, the soft whisper kiss of his breath on her clit.. and then a voracious mouth licking and suckling.. pulling, and thrusting over her clit and flicking deep inside her. She tasted wonderfully sweet. Rick knew he was lost, when he heard her breathe his name. swiftly he moved to cover her slight body and thrust up inside her hot tight depths. Rick realized that it had been years since she’d last made love, and he strove to control the impulse to take her hard and fast. her hips rose up to meet his and Rick felt her body tighten around him. She pulled him down to her and she licked his lips.. tasting herself on them. He growled low and deep in his throat, his dark eyes closed lost in the sensation of her body. He felt the rush and his balls tighten and twitch and he knew.. In... out.. harder... in... out... faster... Thrusting in deep he felt her lick his shoulder, and then the soft gentle scrape of her teeth.. And Rick moaned... as he came, feeling her body shudder she came just seconds later.. Cyra screamed his name.. and found her release. She had been very careful to keep her bite a soft one.. one that could be hidden as a simple love bite. Her sharp teeth barely drawing blood. She tasted his strength, his health, his maleness. and she came. licking and healing the slight wound on his shoulder. They lay joined together, feeling each other’s nearness, breathing in the scents. Rick nuzzled her neck. carefully slid beside her. drawing her body into his. This was her. This was the woman he seemed to crave. the one he’d been looking for, for all his life it seemed. He felt her breath calm, and nuzzled her long silky hair, and both slid softly into sleep.

Mal called Rick’s place in a near panic. Cyra wasn’t in her hotel room, and he’d tried calling her cell phone only to hear it ring over and over. “Ello?” he heard Rick’s drowsy muffled voice. And lost it.. “Have you seen Cyra? I’ve been trying to reach her for days, and her cell just rings and rings, last I knew she was going over there. Sorry to disturb you Rick, but oh bloody hell, have you SEEN CYRA!” “Stumpus, get a grip, she’s here, if you’ll hang on, I’ll go get her.” “Rick, are you saying she’s there?” “Yes, in fact she’s curled up next to me, sound asleep.” “Where are you?” Mal demanded. “In bed.” “And how LONG has she been there in bed?” “Off and on? The last few days. Why?” “Nothing.” Mal grinned, and he wished Rick a good night’s sleep. He turned off his cellphone and decided that perhaps, HE should get a decent night’s sleep.