Eighteen – 06

Posted on November 4, 2015 by Erin M. Klitzke

She didn’t take him to see Jacqueline like he’d expected. Marin took him home.

His wife lit the lamp near their bed and locked the door, turning toward him in the flickering of the kerosene lamp’s flame. “Take off your shirt,” she said quietly. “I want to see.”

Thom grimaced and sat down in a chair, not wanting to get their bed dirty with the grime of the road. “I need a bath,” he mumbled.

“That’ll come,” Marin said, leaning against the door. “Just take it off, Thom. I want to see.”

He stared at her in the dim, watching the play of light and shadow against her face. She was pale, perhaps more pale than she should have been, but he knew that she wouldn’t welcome any questions about her own state of health while she was worried about his.

Thom sighed and peeled out of his jacket, his sweater, and his shirt. Marin’s footsteps whispered on the floor as she came to him, her eyes on the bandages J.T. had wound around him.

“Claws,” Thom said before she could ask the question. “One of them raked me with its claws on the right side. It’s not showing any signs of festering or anything like the dirae’s would, though.”

Her fingers were cold against his skin as she started to unwind the bandages from around his body and he shivered at the chill, flesh puckering. Marin sighed softly, her lips brushing against the top of his ear. “Settle down,” she murmured. “I’m not angry.”

Some of the tension drained away. “Just worried?” he asked softly.

“Too worried,” she said, stepping back and moving the lamp closer so she could get a better look at the wounds on his back. “J.T. stitched them up already?”

“He had to. I was bleeding all over the place.” Thom let his head drop, chin resting against his breastbone. “Cameron’s worse off than I am.”

“Cam is Neve’s problem,” Marin whispered as her fingers brushed along the edges of his wounds. “They’re all red around the edges.”

“I’ll be okay,” Thom told her, reaching around gingerly to catch one of her hands in his. “Mar, I’m okay. I’m here.”

“I know,” she whispered in the moment before she kissed him within an inch of his life.

Posted in Book 5, Chapter 18, Story | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Eighteen – 05

Posted on November 2, 2015 by Erin M. Klitzke

Cameron and Seamus trailed behind them, both still on horseback, leaving Thom to bring up the rear, leading his mount and J.T.’s back home again. He cast another glance toward the patch of blood in the snow and grimaced.

What the hell happened while we were gone?

A shiver wracked him and he tore his gaze away, starting to walk again. That particular mystery would be solved soon enough.

Instead of heading into the tent, though, Thom found himself heading toward the half-timber, half canvas stables, still leading the two horses, half lost in thought. He was on autopilot and barely realized what he was doing until he was halfway through untacking J.T.’s horse when he heard Marin’s voice.

“Are you okay?”

Thom sucked in a ragged breath, fingers tightening around the edges of J.T.’s saddle. “Are you?”

She came over to him, pale-faced but otherwise just the same as she’d been when he left. His throat tightened and he dropped the saddle, wrapping her up in his arms and squeezing her tight against his chest. The rent muscles in his back protested, but he ignored them as he buried his face in his wife’s hair.

“I missed you,” he murmured. “I’m not doing that again. Someone else can go. It won’t be me.”

Marin choked on a laugh. “We both know that’s not true.” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close.

Thom swore as the touch set his back on fire.

She let go immediately, blinking, brow creasing in concern. “Thom, what happened?”

“We got jumped by something,” he said, voice tight as he tried to master the sudden agony. “Seamus called them shadowspawn. I—I hadn’t seen anything like them before, Mar, but I don’t think they followed us.”

“Are you—”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, perhaps a shade too quickly. His wife squeezed her eyes shut.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

She took him by the hand and led him out of the stable.

Posted in Book 5, Chapter 18, Story | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Eighteen – 04

Posted on October 30, 2015 by Erin M. Klitzke

There was blood in the snow near the border of their settlement. Thom spotted it as they come up from the bridge. His stomach flipped right over and he slid from his saddle, heart in his throat.

I knew it was too quiet. Dammit, what—

“Jay!”

Carolyn’s voice shattered the sudden, shocked silence that reigned over the four men. Thom tore his gaze from the bloody snow and looked toward the sound. He caught sight of the slender brunette as she jogged down the hill toward them. She didn’t looked panicked or upset.

Thom found he could suddenly breathe again.

J.T. dropped from his saddle and tossed his reins to Thom, heading for his lover at not quite a run, not quite a jog. He caught her up in his arms and held her tight, lifting her and spinning her in one slow revolution before setting her down. Thom couldn’t hear what his friend said, but Carolyn jerked back slightly, blinking at him, then glanced beyond him toward Thom, Seamus, and Cameron.

“What the hell happened?” she blurted, stepping out of the circle of J.T.’s arms. “Cameron, you look—”

“Like I need a hot bath, more stitches, and a bed,” Cameron said. He dropped his reins and Seamus leaned toward him to gather them up. The elder man nudged his horse forward and Thom drew his and J.T.’s out of their way, letting Seamus and Cameron pass.

“You’d better get back there and let Jac know they’re coming,” Thom said quietly, not daring to move just yet. The last thing he needed was Carolyn getting Jac—and then turning just as quickly to informing his wife that he’d gotten himself hurt again.

Carolyn hesitated, then nodded. “Right. Right. What happened?”

“We’ll explain later,” J.T. told her. “Come on. I need to clean up and you need to round up Jac.”

Carolyn looked like she wanted to say more, but shut her mouth and nodded again.

She turned and headed back for the tents, J.T. following in her wake.

Posted in Book 5, Chapter 18, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Eighteen – 03

Posted on October 28, 2015 by Erin M. Klitzke

They rode in silence up the old roadway that led to the back side of campus, past the barrow where they’d buried the dead, then up the hill toward the battered, snow-shrouded Shakespeare Garden. Seamus reined up his mount just shy of the battered hedge around that garden, staring bleakly at the ruin from his saddle.

“Déithe agus arrachtaigh,” he breathed, gaze drifting across the remains of the garden’s former glory. “What tore this apart?”

“The camazotzi,” Thom said wearily, shifting slightly in his saddle. “It was a while ago now. It’s why the fairies stick near us now. They used to live here until all of this.”

Seamus closed his eyes, looking pained. “I didn’t realize.”

“There’s no reason you should have,” J.T. said, his voice tight. “Cameron and I are going to ride ahead.”

“No, don’t,” Seamus said, tearing his gaze away from the garden. “I’m coming. Forgive me.”

“It’s all right,” Cameron said. “A few minutes isn’t going to make a difference one way or another.” He glanced toward Thom for confirmation.

Thom shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so, anyway.”

“I do,” J.T. grumbled. “Come on.”

Thom snorted humorlessly and nudged his horse back into motion in stride with J.T. and Cameron’s, leaving Seamus to bring up the rear a few strides behind. It felt quiet, too quiet, like the calm before a storm.

He didn’t like it.

I hope everything’s okay. Everything’s okay, right? It has to be.

The bridge came into view, silent and empty. A chill crept down his spine. He could just barely feel his wife’s wardings beyond it, still standing, still strong. It was a comfort, a relief, to feel them at this distance, as their horses began to cross the bridge.

But it still felt too quiet, and that worried him more than anything had in any of the moments before.

Posted in Book 5, Chapter 18, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Eighteen – 02

Posted on October 26, 2015 by Erin M. Klitzke

The shadow of home was a smudge on the horizon as they rode through fallow, snow-dotted fields, fields full of dead wheat and corn, lost to the early chill and the death of the modern world. If they weren’t so far away, they’d make good fields for replanting when spring finally decided to finally come.

Maybe someday, Thom thought, closing his eyes for a moment. Someday, they’d clear the fields they rode through again, someday they’d be more than what they were today.

Someday, a fortress on the edge of the ravine, a waterfall, the river spreading, clean and beautiful…

He shook himself and opened his eyes. Someday was a very long way away.

“You were about ten thousand miles away for a second,” Cameron said, still swaying in his saddle, less with the moments of his horse and more with the effort to stay upright. “Or was it years away?”

“Thoughts running wild,” Thom said, shaking his head slightly. His horse danced sideways a little before he jerked it back into check. He was tired—they were all tired. They’d been riding for home ever since J.T. had finished patching them up after their closer encounter with what Seamus had called shadowspawn.

Something about them had been damnably, frighteningly familiar and it left Thom more than a little unsettled. They hadn’t been camazotzi or Greys, but they’d reminded him of them. That alone was enough to set his teeth on edge, but there was something deeper, something just beyond his memory, tickling at the back of his mind.

He’d seen them before—somewhen.

J.T. appeared on the other side of Cameron, leaning out of his saddle to steady the former pilot. “I think both of you had better concentrate on the landscape. Falling wouldn’t be pleasant, and I’d rather not have to get Cameron back in the saddle again. I know mounting wasn’t pleasant for you, either, Thom.”

Thom grimaced. His friend was right, of course, but that didn’t make the words easier to take.

“Road looks clear between us and home,” Seamus said over his shoulder. “At least it seems that way.”

Thom sighed. “Then let’s hope everything’s exactly as it seems.” If it’s not, I’m not sure there’s anything we’ll be able to do about it now.

Posted in Book 5, Chapter 18, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Eighteen – 01

Posted on October 23, 2015 by Erin M. Klitzke

It hurt, a gnawing, twisting pain in his back. Next to him, Cameron swayed in his saddle, looking pale, either from shock or blood loss.

They’re going to kill us, Thom thought bleakly, gripping his saddle pommel with a white-knuckled grip. They’re absolutely going to kill us. He stared at Seamus’s back, watched the former master of the Wild Hunt shift gingerly on his mount’s back.

“You still haven’t told us what those were, Seamus,” Thom rasped, gingerly probing his side. The makeshift bandages he and J.T. had wound around his chest were tight, pressing hard against where claws had raked across his back on the right hand side, scoring flesh, his ribs and reflexes the only things that saving him from being hurt much, much worse. “Never mind how and why they tracked us down.”

“If I had an answer to the latter, I’d give it to you,” Seamus said wearily, glancing back over his shoulder toward Thom and Cameron. J.T. was bringing up the rear, weary but largely unhurt after their close encounter with shadow-birthed monsters of some variety or another. “As for the former, I assume that shadowspawn isn’t explanation enough?”

“For now it is,” Thom said. “But it won’t be forever.”

Seamus made a soft sound, shifting again in his saddle. They were pretty sure his arm and a few ribs were broken, despite his insistence that his ribs, at least, were just fine. Thom knew a lie about that kind of thing when he heard it, considering how many times the same lie had passed his own lips.

He was pretty sure that J.T. knew it was bullshit, too.

“How much further is it?” Cameron asked quietly.

“Not far,” Thom assured him. “Not too much farther.” He glanced sidelong at his friend. “Are you going to make it?”

“I have to, don’t I?”

The smile Cameron shot him was a death’s head grin. Thom grimaced.

“It’s not much farther,” he said again, and hoped against hope that they found a home still safe and secure when they got there.

He didn’t think that was too much to hope for.

Posted in Book 5, Chapter 18, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Seventeen – 07

Posted on October 21, 2015 by Erin M. Klitzke

Neve managed to laugh and shook her head slowly. “If I had an answer, I wouldn’t be asking the question.” She sobered after a moment. “I wish I had an answer, Marin. I wish we had an answer.”

Marin sighed. “If I see something, I’ll tell you. I’m not—” She faltered. “I almost hope I don’t, Neve.”

That’s a surprising confession. Neve frowned slightly, then looked around. She drew Marin out into the fading light of day, away from the tents a little ways. “Why?” she asked in a soft voice.

Her friend swallowed hard, wringing her hands. “A lot of things,” Marin said after a long moment. “They’ve been strange lately. Some of them I can’t remember. So many…” Her gaze met Neve’s and she was surprised to see Marin’s gaze so haunted. “I keep seeing them, Neve. Our children. I keep seeing them, but we’re not there.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I see them as teenagers, together, here and not here, and we’re not with them.”

Her stomach twisted. Be strong, Neve. You knew that someday they might be without you, without Cameron—without all of you—but they’ll be fine. You know that, too. “You told me yourself that it would be okay.”

Marin shut her eyes, tears glittering along her lashes. “I know,” she whispered. “Gods, I know that, Neve, I know what I said and I know what I saw but that doesn’t make it much easier, does it? And everything—and—Neve, nothing’s set in stone.”

“Some things are certain,” Neve said, then drew Marin into a tight hug, squeezing her tightly. “Some things are certain, Mar, you know that as well as I do, too. Everything’s going to be okay. We’ll get through—no matter what, we’ll get through.”

We don’t have any other choice.

Posted in Book 5, Chapter 17, Story | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Seventeen – 06

Posted on October 19, 2015 by Erin M. Klitzke

“Have you ever seen him like that before?”

Neve winced slightly, not quite certain how to address Marin’s question—or, more appropriately, the questions that would follow her initial answer. She hugged her arms a little tighter against her chest, gnawing at her lower lip. “Where is he?”

“In his room,” Marin said softly. “Jac’s with him now. Probably a good thing—she’ll impress on him what a bad idea it would be to do something stupid.”

“Good,” Neve said softly, staring at the clouds that drifted through the sky, gray and heavy with only bare snatches of blue visible here and there. Winter didn’t want to let go, though the calendar her friends kept said that it should have been spring weeks ago. Nothing made sense since the end of the world, not really.

She sighed.

“Neve.”

“I know,” she said, finally looking at Marin. “I know I haven’t answered your question.”

“And there’s a reason why, isn’t there?” Marin smiled wryly and shook her head. “You’re afraid to tell me.”

“I’m afraid of what you’ll ask after I tell you the truth,” Neve corrected. “And I don’t want to lie about any of it, either.” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “I’ve seen him like this before, a long time ago, before…before.”

“Before what? Before your father…?”

Neve nodded mutely. Marin touched her elbow, then tugged her arms out of their cross to take her hand. She squeezed it hard.

“Will you tell me?” Marin whispered. “What does it mean?”

“I think Anselm’s right, for what it’s worth,” Neve said, her fingers tightening around Marin’s. “Someone or something is affecting him, and it may well be whatever attacked Cariocecus.”

The thought of it set dread coiling deep in her belly. Was it another old, half-forgotten enemy that Phelan had run afoul of in some long-gone yesterday? She didn’t know.

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” That scared her more than just the thought of someone targeting Phelan—the not knowing, and realizing that he might not even have any idea who was responsible.

Did you really have to go and make so many people angry with you, Phelan? Did you? Neve bit her lip, glancing down at the ground in front of them. Marin squeezed her hand again.

“We’ll figure it out—one way or another.”

“Right,” Neve murmured. “I wish they were here.”

“Who? Cameron and Seamus and Thom?”

“And Teague,” she whispered. “I wish he was here, too. Out of any of them, out of anyone…he’d be the most likely to know who’s pinned this target on Phelan’s back, who’s doing this. They were always thick as thieves.”

“I know,” Marin whispered back, and the strength of knowing behind her words gave Neve another chill.

She barely dared to ask, but the question slipped out. “Have you seen something?”

“I’ve seen a lot of things,” Marin said as she let go and turned away. “I haven’t seen a solution to this problem yet, but one will come. One always comes, one way or another, whether we’re ready or not.”

“Do you think we’ll be ready this time?”

Marin gave her a wry smile. “You tell me, Neve. You tell me.”

Posted in Book 5, Chapter 17, Story | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Seventeen – 05

Posted on October 16, 2015 by Erin M. Klitzke

Marin startled at Neve’s sudden movement. “Neve, what—”

Neve held up a hand and moved to face Phelan, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t lie to me, Phelan O’Credne. I know you far too well to buy that there’s not a damned thing wrong with you just now.”

There was a part of him that didn’t want to meet her gaze, but he did anyway, letting her see the naked fear in his eyes, the uncertainty, the restlessness and pain. Neve’s hand covered his, squeezed hard.

“This is home,” she whispered in their native tongue. “You know that, Phelan.”

He nodded mutely, throat so tight he couldn’t speak. This was home, and he knew that there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be. But the wanderlust…

This is where you belong, Wanderer, the place where you stay and wander no more.

The voice was his and he knew it was right.

He buried his face in his hands. He felt Marin’s palm against his spine, felt his cousin’s hands on his shoulders.

“Damnation,” he whispered raggedly. “What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Neve answered, stroking his hair. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“Seems he’s being affected by something,” Anselm observed softly. “Perhaps you’d best get him back behind the safety of your wards.”

Could that really be the problem?

Is something targeting me in specific, or is there more going on here than meets the eye? And will getting me on the other side of the wards really going to help?

Phelan shuddered and the next thing he knew, he was being walked back toward the walls and the wards that were embedded in them, Marin on one side and Neve on the other. He couldn’t remember getting up, or leaving Anselm. He shook his head, hard.

What’s wrong with me?

Posted in Book 5, Chapter 17, Story | Leave a comment

Seventeen – 04

Posted on October 14, 2015 by Erin M. Klitzke

Neve met Phelan’s gaze and gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. Now wasn’t the time to admit to any sort of weakness, but she clearly knew what he was thinking.

Phelan shivered and dropped back down onto the log next to Marin. “They didn’t have to thrash Cariocecus to get us not thinking clearly. We’re already scattered with Leviathan’s appearance.” And, truth be known, still not fully recovered from everything else that’s happened lately.

Marin’s cold fingers found his and squeezed.

Phelan sighed.

Anselm arched a brow at them, tilting his head slightly to one side. “You seem distressed.”

“Only at the usual levels,” Marin said, mustering a smile from somewhere. “But Phelan’s right, Leviathan showing up like that has us all rattled, especially with Thom and the others away.”

Made worse by the fact that we’re not sure if he’s friend or foe. Phelan frowned at the fire. No, make that fairly certain he’s a foe, he just wants us to think otherwise. “I don’t think it was Leviathan that had Cariocecus attacked,” he said slowly. “It doesn’t fit his style.”

“I’ll bow to your wisdom in that, Taliesin,” Anselm said. “You would know better than I.”

Phelan winced, though he knew it was the truth—he would know better than the old soldier, whether he liked it or not.

His fingers itched and he felt cold, too cold. He was exhausted, but wanted to pace, wanted to move.

Nothing’s right, everything’s wrong. Been in one spot for too long now, too long.

He tried to clamp down on the feeling. His fingers twitched. Marin looked at him, brow furrowing.

“Phelan?”

“I’m fine,” he said, fighting hard to keep his voice even and stead. “I’m fine.”

What’s another lie?

“No,” Neve said, coming to her feet, her face like a stormcloud. “No, you’re not.”

Posted in Book 5, Chapter 17, Story | Leave a comment