The Upside Down Oak Tree
Chapter One
Kaitlyn was lost. Visibility was near to impossible. The hired fancy dress costume she wore gave little shelter against the October chill, and soon the woods would be darker than the inside of a gypsy's boot.
Bloody brilliant!
Sodden with mud, the hem on her luminous white skirt clung to her legs and numbed her to the bone. Unattractive little brown marks ran down her shins and over her very expensive shoes.
A sudden gust of wind caught her broken halo and tossed it to the ground. The tinsel glistened in the moonlight.
It had shone that same way, she remembered, whizzing through the air, Frisbee fashion, en-route for her fiancé’s forehead. That had been a sight, she thought, remembering the look of horror on Seth’s face as it collided onto the bridge of his nose.
Mind you, he’d earned it. It wasn’t every day you discovered your future husband in a heated embrace with the village tart.
Only Camilla Cheston-Mariot wasn’t the village tart.
Damn you Seth! The knife of betrayal twisted painfully in Kaitlyn’s stomach. You selfish, knicker-plundering pig!
Camilla was the princess of the catwalk. To her credit, the woman could wear a bin-liner and still look attractive, only Kaitlyn wasn’t in a credit-giving mood.
A highly paid model born into an extremely wealthy family, Camilla naturally oozed grace and dignity. Unlike Kaitlyn, who worked twelve hours a day to make any sort of a living, Camilla’s private education shone through with unmistakable emphasis on everything she did. One venture after another turned into successful businesses. Her latest enterprise, marketing designer shoes for the public at a semi-extortionate price, had quickly turned global.
Camilla, however, didn’t just sell shoes. Oh no, Kaitlyn thought bitterly. She also had the ability to glide along the catwalk in them without ever twisting her ankles.
The trollop never made a fool of herself.
Even when caught in the despicable act of manhandling Kaitlyn’s fiancée, Camilla, her lustrous brown hair styled to perfection, should have yanked her purple knickers up so fast she’d been in danger of garrotting herself. Instead, clearly entertained, she had looked down at Kaitlyn, her eyes fizzing with laughter, like two Alka Seltzers plonked into a glass.
That was the problem with pickaxes. They were never around when you needed one.
Kaitlyn should have clumped her over the head with the heels of these damn shoes that insisted on sinking into the ground each time she took a step through the blasted woods! That would have been very Quentin Tarantino, Kaitlyn fumed, imagining Camilla’s face as she walloped her over the head, and well deserved for a purple underwear-wearing, man-eating hussy that was intent on jumping into bed with her fiancée!
Ex fiancée, Kaitlyn reminded herself as she kicked off her shoes, leaned against a tree for support and massaged her aching feet. She knew from bitter experience that tomorrow she’d pay for traipsing in soggy ground in a pair of three-inch high-heeled designer shoes. Right now, she was too vexed to care.
Bring on the blisters!
Kaitlyn next rubbed at her aching temples. How could Seth be so disloyal, so callous, so utterly man-like! She gripped the huge diamond ring on the third finger of her left hand and yanked at it with all her might. Her finger throbbed in pain, then ballooned in size, wedging the blasted thing firmly on her knuckle.
Damn and bugger!
With her emotions primed ready for chemical warfare, Kaitlyn stumbled through the woods. She hadn’t the foggiest idea in which direction she was headed. It made no difference. All she wanted to do was disappear into oblivion.
Tucking one shoe under each armpit, Kaitlyn suddenly found herself catapulted backwards. The billowing sleeve on her outfit had snagged upon a spiny blackberry branch. Like a coiled spring, she bounced through the bush and landed in an undignified heap on the ground.
Oh bum! Bang went the hefty deposit on her costume. This was an evening, Kaitlyn reasoned, sorely lacking in Halloween charm.
She looked at her soiled hands, her French-manicured fingernails split, and dirt ground under each nail. Very attractive.
Please don’t let the press be out here snooping, she thought, cameras cocked like pistols and flashbulbs at the ready to blind her. She really couldn’t deal with the shame.
Not moving, she listened to the silence before deciding it was safe to come out.
Why would the press want a picture of a spurned, blackberry-stained woman dressed as a dishevelled angel, anyway, when they could have sizzling hot pictures of Seth Anderson’s bare behind? They would look great splashed over the front page of the national newspapers, and would quickly be plastered on every drooling teenager’s bedroom wall.
There was a lot to be said about the splendour of Seth’s bum.
“This is what my father meant when he told me to stay away from men with deep pockets,” Kaitlyn grumbled as she wiggled out of the bush and back onto her bare feet.
And all of Seth’s trousers did have very deep pockets.
Revenge sent a jolt of electricity racing down Kaitlyn’s spine. Just as soon as she found the village, she would get a taxi home to London, dig out her sharpest pair of scissors and attack Seth’s prized suits with relish. She’d hack each designer label into pieces, and pour itching powder into the crotch of all his trousers.
Oh! And his Calvin Klein underwear. Can’t forget them!
The idea spurred her on. Hoisting up her mud-splattered silk dress, she paced in the general direction of the village and, with every step, wished she’d listened to Hannah, Seth’s manager.
One minute, Kaitlyn, distraught from discovering Seth with his trousers about his ankles, and blinded by the mascara that ran into her watering eyes, had bolted down the grand staircase hell-bent on heading out the door. The next moment, faster than you could say, whizzing wombats, Hannah had swept her into the office and slammed the door shut behind them. There, she’d shoved Kaitlyn down into a large wing-backed chair, urged a large Jack Daniels into her hand and insisted that she calm down, dutifully informing her the press were everywhere.
“Practically laying siege all over the grounds,” Hannah had nodded, lighting a cigarette and inhaling for all her worth. She took two more full puffs before she continued. “Bloody buggers are everywhere. Christ, they can’t see you in that state; they’d have a field day. The headlines would be disastrous. Besides, you look like a member of that awful band, the ones that insists on wearing all that dreadful makeup,” Hannah made elaborate movements with her hands as she spoke.
Ouch! Thanks Hannah. Lost my fiancée, and now told I look dreadful. Nice touch.
“Can’t have you scaring the party-goers, now can I? Especially after we’ve all worked so hard to get Seth where he is today. Stay here the night. In the morning, we’ll sort things out with lover-boy.”
Not on your life!
Hannah then sneaked stealthy out of the office, quietly closing the door behind her, in search of a much needed tissue for Kaitlyn’s dripping nose.
Of course, staying the night would have been a far easier and more dignified exit than storming blurry eyed out into the woods. Only, headstrong and furious with a large glass of whiskey in her to give her courage, Kaitlyn had decided to march to the nearest taxi rank by taking the short-cut the gatekeeper had worriedly pointed out. It didn’t matter that she traipsed alone through the woods, as she was convinced Seth would come chasing after her. Pleading with her to reconsider and begging her to stop because he loved her. This had all been some terrible mistake, and vowing never to lay his eyes on that tart again.
Only he hadn’t, and now she was lost and alone, caked in dirt and desperately regretting her actions.
Gullible, that’s what I am, she thought.
The party she’d attended had been thrown in honour of Seth’s latest top-ten album, Another Place. Golden voiced, Seth Anderson, was a hugely successful singer with three platinum albums to his name. He was tall and broad, sexy and stylish, illegally handsome with topaz eyes that twinkled flirtatiously at any female that moved. He was totally gorgeous and attracted girls like a cowpat attracted flies.
He was also a silver-tongued, bed-hopping bastard.
Humiliated beyond belief, never expecting her childhood sweetheart to betray her, Kaitlyn knew that if she weren’t so mad, she’d have been shattered, heartbroken, even.
Consumed in thought, she stomped off the beaten track and found herself in the very heart of the woods. Or at least that’s were she presumed she was as it was quieter than the inside of a mortuary.
In the distance, a moving light suddenly pierced a hole in the darkness.
Great! A taxi!
“Hello?” She yelled, quickly dropping her shoes and racing barefoot through the trees, sure to make as much noise as possible. “Over here! Taxi!”
She thought about wolf whistling, and then remembered the muck under her nails. It was bad enough that she’d dumped her fiancée, she’d be damned if she’d give herself lockjaw the same night, too. That would never do. Instead, she whooped and hollered and threw her arms wildly over her head to gain his attention.
The moving light slowed, then stopped.
Thank God! He’d seen her.
Upping her pace, she raced toward the light then came to a sickening halt.
Kaitlyn’s stomach churned like a tumble-dryer.
That was no headlight. That was a flaming torch. The sort Indiana Jones used whenever he went in search of treasure.
Kaitlyn could see there was no road beyond the glow of the flames. No welcoming signposts, no concrete paths or cheeky faced taxi-drivers, just more trees and an unending darkness.
Suddenly, she heard a snap in the undergrowth behind her.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
Kaitlyn’s heart rolled into her belly. Gut instinct told her she was being watched. The chilling knowledge stilled her breath and prickled the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.
“Seth? Is that you?” she asked, trembling so much the fillings in her teeth rattled.
Kaitlyn turned, then choked back her scream. Oh Christ, that wasn’t Seth, she thought. That wasn’t anything she’d ever seen before.
The creature howled a second before it crashed through the bushes toward her.
Oh crap!
Kaitlyn plunged headfirst through the woods, ignoring the trees that swam at her, only intent on making it back to the Manor.
At the sound of gunfire, a bullet whizzed past her shoulder and Kaitlyn flung herself to the ground. A lone man sprinted straight toward her.
"Jesus Christ! Get up! Get to the water!" he boomed as he raised his gun and fired at the creature a second time. "Move it!"
The man caught her in a flying tackle and knocked her off a ridge. Wrapped in his rough embrace, they tumbled down into a gully. The air burst from her lungs as she came to an abrupt stop in a freezing bog. Kaitlyn gasped in shock, then scrambled to her feet, but he was too quick.
"Stay down!" he hissed as he grabbed her arm, then knocked her feet out from under her.
The slick mud cushioned her fall, but half her face was thrust into the slime. "Let go. I can barely breathe,” she ground out.
"Be thankful you still can, at least for the time being.”
Scurrying over the ground on all fours, the man grabbed his fallen torch, and then raced back to her. His eyes honed in on the blackberry-stains littering her dress. Suddenly, hauled to her knees, she was dragged to the far side of the bog, forced onto her back and frisked.
“What the hell do you think are you doing?” The man was nothing more than a pervert! “Touch my boobs again mate and knock your frigging lights out!”
The man sat back on his hunches. "I was only checking for wounds. I tried to slot it, but you went and got in the bloody way."
She'd heard that word before - slot. She knew it was a dangerous word. It was a war word. A word used by those who knew how to assemble a gun in ten seconds flat. Far more important, it was a word used by those who actually knew how to use the gun they assembled in ten seconds flat.
"You're army?" she whispered, shying away from his touch, desperately hoping he wasn’t a party guest also lost in the woods.
"Special Ops," he stated as she knocked his rough hands from her waist. He released her and watched as she jack-knifed into a sitting position.
“Has it gone?” Kaitlyn looked all around her as she spoke, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.
“For a bit,” he replied, studying her face.
Kaitlyn wiped her hair away from her face and quickly noticed her skirt had risen high enough to display the tops of her thighs. Twelve-inch long ladders crept their way along each stocking. How awful! Embarrassed, she grabbed at the material, then froze.
“Oh my God!” Five slash marks had sliced through the dress she wore. “It got me!” Kaitlyn was incredulous.
The soldier wasted no time. He thrust the torch into her hand, ripped what was left of her stocking away and studied the slash marks that crossed her leg. Kaitlyn spotted a few drops of blood and shuddered. Then she remembered the creature’s eyes and the hunger that burned within them, its absurd tall frame, and those arms that swayed apelike down by its sides as it came for her.
That was no drunken guest dressed in costume, intent on a sick Halloween trick.
Definitely not. Whatever it was, it was real enough to have incredibly bad breath.
Kaitlyn scuttled like a crab nearer the man. “It had claws,” she burst out, remembering how they looked as it slashed at her, “and it looked like a man, only no man I’ve ever seen!”
He glanced up at her. “Nothing but a few grazes,” he offered, cleaning the cuts, and then shoving the soiled material and her ripped stocking into his pocket. “Best let the air get to it,” his voice was soft.
Kaitlyn swallowed hard as her hand drifted over the lacerations on her thigh. “It wanted to kill me.”
“It almost did. You’re lucky. Gaffes don’t usually miss their target,” he continued. “Another few seconds and it would have ripped you to shreds.”
Oh great!
Retrieving her modesty, Kaitlyn made a big issue of straightening out her ruined dress. It was then she realised her engagement ring had wedged itself tight about her knuckle, cutting the flow of blood from the tip of her ashen finger.
She tried to dislodge the ring back to the base of her finger, but failed.
The stranger cocked one eyebrow. “Want a hand?” he asked, his voice laced with misplaced humour. “I’ve got some wire cutters somewhere,” as he spoke he patted his chest pockets.
Wire cutters? Good grieve. Did the man not know a Tiffany ring when he saw one? Kaitlyn would rather let her finger shrivel up and drop off like a Rottweiller’s tail than have it accidentally removed in the dark by a complete stranger.
Appalled, Kaitlyn replied, “No thank you.” It was because of a man that she was in this awful mess to begin with. No way was she ever going to let another man fiddle with her bits. Not her swollen fingers, or any other part of her for that matter. From now on, it was a life of chastity for Kaitlyn.
“What’s a Gaffe?” she asked as her finger throbbed.
"A demon that was once a man. Creatures Stabler concocted,” he hastily replied. The soldier stood and ran the palm of his hand over his sandpaper chin in thought, then calmly reloaded his gun. "I’ve never known a hunting party to come this far west.” Despite the cold, his agile fingers worked with relative ease.
West? She was in Hertfordshire, for crying out loud!
Kaitlyn hugged her knees to her chest and listened to each bullet slip into its chamber. How had she gotten so lost? And why hadn’t Seth come to save her? The thought didn’t sit well with her, and she edged nearer the tall, uniformed man. His impressive bulk shielded her from the north wind, but did little to calm the cold dread filling her soul.
“Thank you,” she rasped, her cheeks hot from physical exertion, “for scaring that thing away. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.” A simple thank you was undoubtedly an understatement, but in light of the situation, what else could she do?
The man looked her square in the eyes and held her gaze. The corner of his mouth threatened to crease into a smile.
Dear God! Kaitlyn’s blood boiled. If he were like Seth, she thought in a rushed panic, there was one sure way she could thank him. Trying to act normal and desperately wishing she had her can of Mace handy, every girls’ best friend, Kaitlyn pulled damp leaves out of her hair and avoided his watchful stare.
After a moments pause, he dipped his head. “Welcome,” he replied. Then he pulled his glove off and offered her his hand. “Me name’s Digger.” His eyes had were chocolate brown, gentle as they absorbed her presence.
Phew!
Digger had the hands of a Roman gladiator, big and strong. His grasp was firm and his handshake powerful, not like Seth’s wet-fish excuse for a handshake at all.
“Kaitlyn Waterhouse,” she announced, suddenly very pleased she’d met him.
His grip tightened upon her hand and his eyes narrowed. Releasing her, the soldier reached for his flaming torch and held it near her face. Its rays cut into golden shards of light that blinded her, surely highlighting the tears that dammed in her eyes.
Oh no! On top of everything else, don’t let me cry!
A frown crept over his forehead and he made a small sound of disbelief. "Fancy telling me how you got here?" The soldier's voice was authority unrivalled. He slipped his gun into its holster, then checked his pockets for further ammunition.
“Isn’t it obvious,” she sighed, pointing to her wings. “I’m a fallen angel.” Only she wasn’t. She was a spurned woman engaged to a charming, cheating, bastard.
“Keep tugging at that engagement ring, and you’ll pull your finger clean off.” Digger said, indicating to her left hand.
In emotional hell, Kaitlyn was unaware she’d been yanking at the ring. Needing time to think, she released her finger, sighed in exasperation and glanced at her watch thinking he might have the time to get to her to the nearest police station if they hurried.
“I’m not really an angel.”
Digger mocked surprise. “Really? Well, you fooled me.”
“Thought I’d be clever and take the shortcut to the village. Ended up getting lost. Geography never was my strong point,” she replied, ripping the broken angel wings off her back. “I’ve been traipsing through these bloody woods all night trying to find a way home.”
He stilled, cocked his head to one side and looked at her speculatively. “You’ve been out here all night?”
Kaitlyn nodded. “I’m completely lost, aren’t I?”
“Got that right, girl.” One heartbeat passed, then he sprung to his feet, offered her his hand and hauled her to her fee, saying, “Can you stand?”
“I can run if I have to,” she replied, adding, “and protect myself when need be.” Kaitlyn tucked her cold hands and swollen finger under her armpits and tried to stop her teeth from chattering.
The soldier raised one eyebrow and sent her a wolfish smile. “I’d like to see that one day, but not now. We’ve got to push on.” He removed his woollen hat to reveal his ruffled sand-fire hair. “Put this on,” he ordered, already slipping the hat over her head. Despite the kind tone of his voice, Kaitlyn shivered. “It’ll help keep you warm.” With a twist of his broad shoulder, the man turned and strode away, his uniform a perfect camouflage as he moved through the trees.
“Are you taking me to the taxi-rank?” Kaitlyn tried not to trip over his heels as she hurried behind him. It was a tough job. Digger’s army boots were enormous.
“No. We’re going to my village, north of here.”
Kaitlyn’s mind spun with shock. “Have they got taxi’s there?
Digger shook his head and reached for her hand. “No, but we’ve got some horses.”
“You’re joking? I have to get back to London! Please, people will be worried about me!” She yanked hard on his sleeve and forced him to grind to a stop.
Digger winced, then held one of his hands to the side of his ribcage. He glared down at her from his great height.
A professional nurse who preferred the art of alternative healing, Kaitlyn watched as blood oozed through his jacket. On impulse her hands reached for him. “Bloody hell, you’re hurt. What can I do?”
“I’ll live,” the soldier replied.
“Not if we don’t stem that flow,” she corrected, already tugging his jacket apart as a steady stream of blood poured over his trousers waistband. Digger grimaced as she lifted his T-shirt to reveal the extent of his injury.
“This is deep.”
“Bollocking Gaffes,” he seethed, adding, “whatever you’re gonna do, do it quick before that bastard comes back.”
Kaitlyn’s back stiffened. Although she didn’t like taking orders, she made an exception this time. “Got a hanky-chief?”
The man tore several strips of material from the lining of his coat and offered them to her as field-dressing. “See what you can do with these,” he said, constantly surveying the woods as he spoke. “And hurry up, we don’t have much time.”
He groaned and stooped down to one knee as she packed the cut with the material. “How do we know that thing won’t follow us to your village?” she asked.
“They don’t know the way. We’ve got to get to the river. Gaffes hate water.” With her aid, he stood on shaky legs, then raised his arms, allowing her to thread the remaining dressing about his body and, in doing so, securing the padding in place.
Kaitlyn slipped her hand around his hard waist, tugged his arm across her shoulders then huddled closer to him for warmth. The soldier was heavy. Kaitlyn sucked her stomach in to support her lower back as the two jogged through the woods. “Where’d they come from? And how do you know so much about them? Is the army trying to catch one?”
Of course the army knows all about them, her mind screamed in sarcasm. In fact, everyone does, the world just forgot to tell you.
“The army hasn’t got a clue we’re here.”
Not good.
“I don’t like this. When we get to your base, will you take me home then?”
“I told you. You’re not going home,” he panted.
Of course you’re not. He’s kidnapping you.
“Why not?” Kaitlyn’s heart plunged.
“Because in this world your home doesn’t exist.”
The man, in Kaitlyn’s estimations, was now an official mental case. She quickly released Digger and abruptly stopped running, watching as he lolled forward and almost fell to his hand and knees.
“Okay, time out. What on earth does that mean?”
A smile threatened to crack his stony face as he bent at the waist and held onto his knees. He was breathing hard. “I’d love to go into detail, but now is not the time.”
Well that sounded about right. If he told her, he’d be breaking every kidnappers golden rule. Never, ever, give your captors position away.
Kaitlyn searched the woods for a footpath that would enable her escape. Bum! All the routes looked the same. When will this nightmare end? The reality of her situation fuelled her frustration and she screamed inside.
Loudly.
“I’ll make a deal with you.” She announced her terms with a fake smile. “Cut the covert crap, take me home and I won’t tell a soul about this village of yours.” That’s a good deal, right?
With some effort, the soldier stood upright. The light from his torch highlighted the sandy textures in his hair. It was a stark contrast to the intense colour of his chocolate eyes. “You’re determined to go it alone?”
“If you point me in the right direction, I can make it by myself,” she replied, praying that she was right.
“Well, that’s buggered it. I can’t let you jeopardize the village,” he stated with an arrogant wave of his gun and a swift step in her direction.
Kaitlyn’s first reaction was to look for a weapon. A small branch was the best she could come up with, and she held it before her like a sword. “I’m warning you. I’ve had it up to here with men tonight! Stay back.”
With a simple flick of his wrist, he knocked the stick from her grasp. It spun through the air and out of sight.
“Or what?” he replied. “You’ll slap me to death? Sorry, but you’ve got no choice.”
Kaitlyn rolled her hands into fists as he neared. “I’m a civilian. What’s more, I’m Seth Anderson’s fiancé.” Or ex-fiancé if you wanted to be precise, she reminded herself. “You can’t kidnap me.”
Digger thought differently. “In this place I can do whatever I like, girl,” he said, his face just inches away.
“Is that right?” she barked, delivering a well-aimed punch at Digger’s nose.
A split second later, he returned the gesture square on her chin. “Necessity is a mother,” he said as she slumped into his arms. “But better this than the Gaffes getting you.”
(End of Chapter One)