The Promise

Chapter 1.

This was insane. She couldn't believe she was doing this. Her grandmother had so much to answer for

"Mamgu if you weren't dead already..." she threatened with total sincerity.

She was half way across the world from safety, sanity and sense because of a promise to an evil twisted old bag on her deathbed.

That bloody woman had manipulated her through life and she was still doing it in death. God she missed the cantankerous old cow so much it hurt, physically hurt.

A book and a letter. She had to deliver a book and a letter to a distant relative, distant both geographically and metaphorically. She'd never heard of the old sod, she'd never heard of the god forsaken place and she had only managed to find it on one local map since she had got here.

She had left her Welsh home and flown to the Land of the Free. She had travelled for days on the motorbike she had ended up having to buy because she was too young to hire it. And that was just the beginning of the insanity.

The motorbike was a thumb to the nose for her grandmother. "Those two wheels are too dangerous Ferched, use a car" She could hear the cranky old voice in her head right now and she smirked "Mamgu, you might be forcing me to do this but I will do it my way and sod the 4x4"

She wouldn't admit it, but arriving in Montana was an eye-opener, it was cold for the love of God. No not cold, it was bitter and arctic. As the temperature dropped and she saw snow on the high ground, her grandmother's sarcastic laughter rang through her head, and even if she right then and there she would gladly have swapped her bike for a nice warm car, she would be damned before she'd do it and prove the old woman right.
At least her legs and bum were warm on the bike, and if she considered it an adventure, then it was "fun, fun, do you hear me you old mare, fun, fun, a fun adventure," she shouted defiantly out into the driving wind.

"Pride doesn't keep your flesh warm little Twpsyn" she could hear it, she could just bloody hear the response she'd have got. Her grandmother would have called her all kinds of fool. The old woman was so bloody stubborn, and hadn't she raised her granddaughter well, because by god so was she!

The ranting one sided conversation kept her so engrossed she nearly missed the pathetic feeble town sign, buried amongst the large trees and bushes on the side of the road, which indicated the turn off to the blasted elusive town, and she had to swing the bike round to come back to it. Luckily the road was not well travelled; she hadn't seen another vehicle for over two hours so she didn't cause an accident when she did her squealing u-turn.
In fact she enjoyed that manoeuvre so much, she did it another three times just for the hell of it, and after laughing like an idiot for five minutes, she calmed down, stopped the bike by the nearly invisible sign and whispered at it, "Thought you could fool me huh?" , which caused another few seconds of mad chuckling , until she scolded herself into a more serious frame of mind.

She was a welsh girl, finding this poky little town might have been an exercise in endurance for anyone else, but she had Celtic blood in her veins and been raised by a dragon fiercer that the one on her country's flag, and she knew how to traverse tiny country lanes with no signs, scary bends and savage wild life, like hungry agitated sheep with no road sense.
The winding difficult forest road finally opened into what looked like a main road, and there was another pathetic little sign with the words Aspen Creek written in the smallest greyest font she had ever seen on a road sign. Well these people were really proud of their home weren't they? They wanted to shout it to the stars… not.

She pulled the bike to a stop outside what appeared to be a motel, it looked sad and careworn, but she didn't think she would have a problem getting a room. She hoped they had a restaurant or at least a bloody vending machine. She was hungry enough to start gnawing at her own fingers

She swung off the bike, removed the helmet and rubbed her hands through the long chocolate brown curls which had tumbled down.

A yawn caught her unawares, as she noticed a little lad staring at her from the front of one of the shops, no, no they were called stores not shops. He looked to be about seven years of age; his hair was bright red, and his face a mass of freckles. His hazel eyes stared so solemnly at her, with the beginning of a frown that she couldn't resist the impulse.
She felt the bubble of mischief rise again, and she crossed her own silver eyes and stuck out her tongue as far as it could go. Then she pulled it back with a snap, and curtsied gracefully at him, pretending to hold a wide skirt whilst she was in her dark bike leathers, and heavy boots.
The little boy's eyes opened wide and he gave a merry laugh which made his solemn face look like a naughty gnome. She laughed back at him, but the laughter faded as a woman came out of the shop, glared at her suspiciously and drew the lad into the depths of the shop. She looked at the main street, and the rows of silent stores. There seemed to be people in them but they weren't coming out. The silence was almost ominous. Oh for the love of…..unfriendly, rude and not Welsh. Bliss and Joy.

"Okaaaay" she rolled her eyes, "such a happy, happy place, thanks a bunch grandmother, I hope that cloud you are perched on is nice and fat and fluffy because if there is any justice St Paul has kicked your bony old bum."

She grabbed her stuff from the bike, and headed towards the motel.

Well what a surprise, the dingy reception was empty but at least she could see lots of available keys so there shouldn't be a problem getting a room in the dump.

She eyed the dull brass bell and then grinned wickedly as she pounded on it until a door was flung open and a very irritated middle aged woman came out to stand on the other side of the desk. She removed the bell and popped it into a drawer.

"I'm afraid all our rooms are booked" the unsmiling dark haired woman stated coldly and turned to walk away again, but stopped in surprise at the rich chuckle that answered her words. She turned back to stare at the strange girl on the other side of the desk.

"You people are so funny, you just love to tease and play little pranks don't you" the lilting voice laughed undeterred, "I can see the keys from here".

The woman stiffened with offence but before she could speak, the laughing voice continued
"I've come such a long way because of the reputation for hospitality that Aspen Creek boasts" the older woman blinked with confusion, as she stared into mocking silver eyes "but its really because it so close to my heart as I have a relative here, one I am keen to visit as soon as possible".
The merry accented voice continued
"Perhaps you know him, Bran Cornick, does he live near here?"

The woman stared at her open mouthed then snapped her mouth shut again, turned and took down a set of keys from the shelf above her head, and pushed the registration book towards her.

She watched in silence as the young woman wrote in the book, looked at the number on the key and responded to the directions to the room, with a sweet satisfied smile.

She picked up her backpack and left the reception.

The woman slowly turned the register around so that she could read it. In big bold writing, she read "Haf Cornick, Wales".

Haf stood under the pathetic but warmish shower, trying to wash away the grim and the muscle pain from her long trip.

What a place, unfriendly inhabitants who either ignored her or looked at her as if she was nuts, or more scarily there were even a few that looked as if she was dinner.

She'd asked for him by name in the shops, no, stores, they were called stores, the ones she had visited after dumping her stuff in the room in the seedy motel. They had just given her uncooperative shrugs or a surly silence.

After the third store, she decided she was too tired to argue the toss, a good night's rest and in the morning she would set this place on its ears. Tomorrow was another day and the sooner she found her shy, reclusive, retiring old darling of a relative, gave him the stuff as she had promised her manipulative twisty sneaky con artiste grandmother, the sooner she could sod off out of this cold miserable unhappy surly dingy dank dump and go home. If she could get this sorted soon, she might be able to take a short holiday in the sun, on a sandy beach with a blue blue sea. Then she had an appointment at the University of her choice (my choice Mamgu, mine), to commence the undergraduate degree of her choice in the not too distant future.
She just had to sort this mess first. She had promised her grandmother and she would bloody get it done.

"God bless you Mamgu for making me be the one to do this. What about my worthless, workshy, witless cousins you old harridan"

She muttered aloud to herself as she showered in the pitifully small bathroom.

"Woo-hoo, all the mod-cons, what more could a stressed out grieving Welsh Teenager ask for! A bloody lot more Mamgu and none of it anywhere near this dump."

She pulled on the surprisingly large motel towelling bathrobe, it nearly wrapped its way around her twice. What size were the "normal" customers in this place?

She began to towel dry her hair as she opened the bathroom door and headed towards the bed to get her clothes. She still need to find somewhere to eat, her stomach was beginning to think her throat was cut. As she reached the bed, and picked up her brush she threw the towel down, bent her head and flung her wild wet curls back in order to brush her long hair into some semblance of order. Did this rancid boil on the devil's bum of a motel even have a hairdryer?

As her head came back, she opened her eyes to see a roomful of people regarding her steadily. She shrieked with fright and leapt back, tumbling over the side of the bed, tangled in the over large dressing gown and landed with a thump and a yelp as she disappeared from view.

There was a stunned silence, then a string of juicy welsh swear words floated up from behind the bed.

"Impressive Da, she hasn't repeated herself once" was the cool comment in the same language from the tall dark haired man, to the smaller sandy haired one besides him.

Her tousled head came up over the side of the bed, silver eyes glittering with rage, through the wild wet curls

"What is wrong with you people? Haven't you ever heard of knocking? Or using the phone, you know that thing in the corner?"

The slender muscular woman standing besides the tall dark haired man giggled before she could stop herself, and Haf looked at her in disbelief, as the dark haired man admonished calmly "Anna"

She struggled to get to her feet, that bloody robe still tangling in her toes, and finally took a good look at the" roomful of people", god this room was so small that three people could make it look full, even though the big man was well, big, the woman had a presence that seemed to throw out warmth and the other man, was so inconspicuous as to be suspicious.

The gently smiling woman named Anna moved towards her, slowly, offering a takeout cup with the most delicious smelling coffee, with the air of a silent apologetic peace offering.

Haf's mouth watered suddenly, she was starving, a cup of coffee would be a god send right now, and these idiots owed her for scaring her spit-less. She tilted her head, looked down at the mug, looked back at the woman, hesitated for a second as her natural caution asserted itself, but there was something so calming and kind about the woman, it clicked the off button on her distrust and she accepted it with a polite thank you.
She wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, she was hungry and thirsty. She took a deep swallow of the deliciously hot liquid, nectar, but her attention did not leave the two men standing in front of her.

Haf smiled sweetly, as she sipped, it made her look like a ruffled angel, then carefully put the cup down on the night stand and said with cheerful venom

"One of you numpty's had better be Bran Cornick or I won't be responsible for my actions"

The pretty woman actually laughed out loud at that, the tall man growled but the other man put a hand on his arm, which seemed to settle him down and his steadfast regard had filled with amusement.

"I'm Bran Cornick" his pleasant voice admitted "this is Charles and Anna, and I believe you are Haf Cornick". Before he could continue, he was interrupted.

"Yes"

The three of them stared at her in bewilderment as she suddenly pumped her arm in the air in triumph, the mockingly sweet smile turned into a blindingly pleased one and she spun round, reached over the bed, ripped open her back pack and pulled out a brown paper package.

All three had stiffened instinctively at her sudden actions.

She spun back round and walked towards him with the package, happily muttering.

"There you are, I have witnesses, I am giving the stuff to him you old harridan"

Anna looked at her with concern and asked soothingly "Who are you talking to?"

The girl looked at her with a wide grin, "My dead grandmother". She just repressed the urge to laugh at the older woman's expression and turned to face the smaller bland man again.

"Here it's all yours, she made me promise to bring them to you, and I have kept my promise, so I can go home now. Tomorrow in fact, I can go home tomorrow"

She burbled happily, almost dizzy with glee, totally disregarding the frowns she was receiving. She still held the parcel in her hand, as no-one made to take it off her.

"Haf" Anna began carefully as if she was worried about her reaction. There was a dramatic sigh

"No I haven't lost my marbles, My dying grandmother made me promise on her deathbed to bring that, it's a letter and a book to her long lost relative Bran Cornick I have spent the last three months and most of my savings including buying that stupid bike trying to track you down. And I have. I didn't know if Bran Cornick was male, female, flora or fauna, but here you are you lovely man. Now it's done, I'm done and I can go home, so unless you brought something to eat with you because I am bloody starving, why don't you just sod off and take that damned parcel with you"

The last part of the sentence was almost obliterated by an enormous yawn, as she collapsed back onto the bed and frowned at her uncooperative legs and then back at them with tired confusion. She blinked in surprise, looked at the mug in sudden comprehension, then back at the three people still calmly staring at her and hissed through her teeth, her silver eyes promising retribution

"You are so going to cop it, you utter bast..." and then flopped backwards, her eyes closing and heard the words the woman spoke before she lost consciousness.

"I'm sorry Haf "Anna said kindly but firmly "until we know what this is all about, you won't be going anywhere"

AN:

Hello, first fanfic for Alpha and Omega. Adore Patricia Briggs books and wanted to try a story in this universe. Alos Really love her stuff before The Mercy Thompson series, especially Dragon Bones and Blood.

Hope you enjoy, please read and review. Let me know what you think... thanks xxxx

Glossary of Welsh words

Haf means Summer and can be used as a girls name pronounced (haaav)

Mamgu - Gran

Twypsyn – Fool

Ferched – girl

Disclaimer: No infringement intended, only having fun playing in the wonderful world of Alpha and Omega.