Angylaidd: Demi-Angels Son Excerpt (the new beginning rewrite): (Contemplative & Cantankerous --> Die Hard (complete with swear words)) *Daniel, March, 1981; Pennsylvania* “I don’t understand,” Daniel repeated. The eleven-year-old sat in the white Lamborghini beside his new foster father as they hurtled down the interstate. “Why can’t I at least call the D’Eyries to say goodbye?” He searched Mr. Maguire’s face, but saw no answers there. Maguire was almost beautiful, with his perfect blond hair and light blue eyes – but there was something remote about him. _Like he came from Hollywood,_ Daniel thought, _or maybe a museum._ “They aren’t home,” Maguire replied, shooting a look into the mirror. Daniel turned back and then glanced again at the speedometer. There were no police – at least no obvious police – behind them. Actually, there wasn’t anyone, which more than a little odd. “You’re fine,” he said to Maguire. _But probably not for long; the cops won’t ignore you at a hundred miles an hour for forever..._ Then, he asked, “But, so where are the D’Eyries? They didn’t even tell me I was changing foster homes. I’ve lived with them all my life – they at least should’ve told me.” _They love me. I know they do. They said they did, anyway. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve run away so much, but they forgave me! They were gonna adopt me – you don’t just give a kid your last name and then get rid of him…_ “Are you buckled in?” Maguire’s eyes flicked to the mirror again; his hand squeezed the gear shift. Daniel had never been in a car with a stick shift before – much less one like this – so when Maguire downshifted and the vehicle suddenly pulsed forward, Daniel was caught completely off-guard. “Holy shit!” he squealed, scrabbling at his waist to be certain his belt was fastened. He glanced, panicked, at Maguire, but he seemed more amused than reproachful. Daniel peeked again at the speedometer – 120 and climbing – then into the mirror once more. A pair of headlights shone far back along the otherwise empty highway. Maguire began to appear annoyed. “How fast have you ever driven, D’Eyrie?” Daniel’s heart, already beating a tattoo, started to race. “I’m not sure,” he squeaked, as the car jolted forward again, “seventy something, maybe; I think Mr. D’Eyrie hit seventy-five once, but...” in his rising terror, Daniel’s throat was closing, “...I really don’t need to go any faster than… this!” The car surged forward again, and Daniel twisted around, desperately scanning the distance. Police would be great about now... _I think I might puke._ There were no police, but the car behind them was closing. Maguire’s Lamborghini was going over 150 miles per hour. _How in hell are they getting closer?_ “Mr. Maguire, what’s going on?” Daniel squealed, not recognizing his voice. “Well, D’Eyrie, it’s like this,” Maguire said, peering into the driver’s-side mirror, “I lied. Sorry about that; unavoidable. I thought I had the superior vehicle, but...” Maguire pulled the word ‘but’ into three syllables. “I – what?” The physical and imminent terror that Daniel had been experiencing was joined by a creeping dread that was, if anything, ten times worse. Maguire glanced at him. “You are Daniel D’Eyrie, yes?” “Yeah, but – you’re not my new foster father?” “Yes, I am. Just not quite the way you expected. Damn.” The headlights were perhaps a half mile behind, now. “Well, who the hell are you? Take me home!” Daniel’s voice broke into hysteria. A smile played over Maguire’s features. “I am. Hang on.” “What?” “Hang... On!” The Lamborghini swerved into a rest stop, swinging Daniel toward the car’s middle. They screeched into the truck lot, where only a single eighteen-wheeler stood parked, and in a maneuver fit for TV, spun into a stop behind it. Daniel’s heart and stomach were in his throat as he slammed back into his seat. “What the fu–” He shrieked. “Out, Out!” Maguire yelled, climbing quickly from the car. “Get out!” Daniel heard the whine and tear of tires approaching. Maguire ran to his side of the car, wrenched his door open, reached across him to undo his buckle, and yanked him from the car. Go!” Maguire began to run, tugging Daniel behind him and heading not for the brick structure ahead, but the trees in shadow on a rise up to their left. Daniel tore his wrist free and ran, pushing himself. Few of his classmates could approach him when he ran, and none could even come close when he really tried. _I don’t even know what I’m running for!_ Lights approached behind them, and Daniel sprinted, starting across the exit road with his eyes focused on the thatch of trees ahead. _Screeee…!_ Daniel paused, heart hammering, headlights of the car that had nearly hit him burning in his eyes. “Go!” Maguire yelled, coming up behind him and grabbing him by the wrist once again. Daniel ran with him, entering the woods, wrist still held. They got perhaps thirty or forty feet before the impossible happened. Right in front of them – directly¬ before them – a man materialized. Simply… appeared... between the trees, and closed what distance there was between them quickly and soundlessly. He was wearing some sort of dark Robe that made him appear to be gliding. Maguire stopped short, almost causing Daniel to trip. “Son of the Morning Star,” the man said, gazing flatly at Maguire. Daniel pulled his wrist free and bent, gasping. His hands clutched and released his knees. _I was looking right there,_ Daniel thought, glancing up. _Right… there. There wasn’t anyone there, I know there wasn’t._ He eyed Maguire. _He isn’t even winded!_ He peeked at the figure before them, panting. The guy stood there in his Robes; it was too dark to see much, but he appeared to be middle aged, with slightly thinning dark hair. Daniel couldn’t make out much more than that, and was too wiped out and confused to try in any case. He swept his arm over his forehead, soaking up the sweat, then dropped his head again, drinking in the air. The man spoke again. “You are beaten, Tywyll. Yield.” _Tywyll?_ Daniel thought. _I thought his name was Maguire!_ “Or what, Angylaidd? We both know you won’t kill me – certainly not here and now. He will spend his days in Scotland, learning by my side, as he ought.” _Scotland?_ Daniel’s breath was coming more easily now, and he straightened and evaluated the two men. Maguire was younger; he moved with a dangerous grace, and his sculpted features lent him an air of being cold and untouchable. But the other man exuded an elegant power that made Maguire seem almost juvenile in comparison. Laughable. Neither made Daniel particularly comfortable. “And I shall follow you,” the man replied casually, stepping toward them, “and land on you with the entire Legion behind me. Are you prepared for war? Yield.” He glanced at Daniel. “Come here, Daniel.” “I… what? No. I just want to go home. Please,” he added, in case it mattered. _“Peace, Daniel D’Eyrie,”_ the man said – but his mouth wasn’t moving. The hairs on the back of Daniel’s neck rose as the guy continued speaking, addressing him _within his head._ _“I am Arwein Angylaidd. Do not answer me out loud; I know you can hear me. I shall explain more when we are alone, but for now, you must trust me. This man is evil, Daniel. Feel it. Trust your intuition; what does it tell you?”_ Maguire said, “I am taking you home, D’Eyrie; it is only that it is not your old home. Change comes to all of us. Today is your day.” “Enough, Tywyll,” said Arwein. “Think this through. How many ways can this end? You are beaten. Yield.” Daniel heard Arwein again, though Arwein’s focus remained upon Maguire. _“I am your guardian. I placed you with the D’Eyries when you were an infant. You can feel something of the truth, hm? Come, now.”_ This went beyond fear. Daniel’s breathing hitched. He stared, first at Maguire, then at the newcomer, and back again. Maguire grinned. Daniel could – not – move. _“Focus, Daniel. Look at me.”_ “I don’t think you quite appreciate your position, Angylaidd,” Maguire said. “Don’t push me, or we shall disappear into the bowels of time. You will next see us when he is fully trained and at my side.” “And why?” Arwein inched closer. “Why saddle yourself with a child when there is no need? What is he to you?” Arwein was close enough now that Daniel could smell his aftershave. “And it is in that very question that you find your answer, Angylaidd. What is he to you? Chasing down a child on an American highway. One of very few that the Arwein himself has escorted to Corwyn. Possibly a unique situation, that. Very suggestive, that, wouldn’t you agree?” “I have been forced to answer, Tywyll; surely you would not expect me to allow another to confront you when you abduct one of my students? Yield.” Daniel rolled his eyes wildly towards Arwein, who met his gaze very briefly and nodded. _“Peace, son. Trust me, now. Come.”_ Daniel began to feel calmer, more able to think. Arwein’s face was set. He addressed Maguire in a quiet, low, rumble. “Michael is coming, Tywyll, and the Legion is assembling. You have moments to decide.” “Ha!” Maguire released an angry bark of a laugh. “Ever the same, Angylaidd; too afraid to act, even now. Well, I am not.” _“NOW, Daniel.”_ It happened in a fraction of a second – a flash, literally, in which Daniel made his choice and began to understand the stakes. Everything slowed as Daniel darted toward Arwein. Maguire’s fingers closed over where his wrist had been, his fingertips brushing Daniel’s skin. Arwein pulled Daniel to his side and Maguire’s chiseled features twisted in rage. There was a flash of fire where Daniel had been standing, setting the lowest branches overhead whooshing into flame; then the air became foggy, full, and wet, and beads of water collected on him. The fire was extinguished, leaving behind only Daniel’s fear and the pungent smell of wet wood smoke in its wake. Arwein’s arm wrapped around Daniel. Daniel pressed himself into the Robes, seeking even a semblance of security from wherever he could find it. “Is that your best, Angylaidd?” Maguire said snidely, stepping towards them. Daniel drew further into the Robes. “I do not see this as a contest, Tywyll,” Arwein said quietly, but no less commanding for that. _“Close your eyes, Daniel,”_ he said, so very quietly that Daniel wasn’t certain he had heard him. _“What?”_ Daniel thought, unsure if it would work but trying nonetheless. “Ah, but you do, Angylaidd; you always have.” _“Close your eyes. Keep them closed until I tell you to open them. I am going to take your hand, now.”_ _CRACK!_ The sound of wood fracturing – very thick wood – sounded. Daniel gasped and closed his eyes, and as the limb overhead dropped, he felt a strong hand close over his, and then he was falling and twisting, very far and very fast.
Posted on: Sun, 13 Jul 2014 04:16:42 +0000
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