Journeyman

by Heather Atkinson

  His head tilted to one side when she entered, as though sensing her before he slowly turned to face her. Raven blinked when black feathers rustled before her face. When she opened her eyes he was standing right before her, his gaze still intense and fierce.

  “Who are you?” she said.

  Without a word he took her face in his hands and kissed her. Raven melted into the kiss, which instilled in her feelings of warmth and familiarity. Some part of her knew him very well. As he kissed her warmth pulsated from him into her mouth and inside her until their bodies felt to meld into one.

  She pulled back slightly to gaze into his eyes, the ferocity tempered with something else she couldn’t quite define. His eyes constantly changed colour - dark brown, black, lightning to green then blue before darkening again. Everything about him was new and strange but at the same time so familiar. Her conscious mind couldn’t recall why but a part of her rejoiced to be with him again.

  “I know you,” she breathed.

  He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, that fierce gaze softening even more.

  “Raven,” called a voice.

  She ignored it, conscious of nothing but this man and his warmth.

  “Raven,” called the voice, louder.

  With a gasp she sat bolt upright to find herself back in bed in the hotel room in Flodigarry. Aidan was sat up too, regarding her with concern.

  “Are you okay?” he said.

  She just stared at him, the jolt disorientating her. “Err, yes,” she replied in a faraway voice.

  “You were making some weird noises.”

  “Like what?” she said, recalling the nature of the dream.

  “Mumbling and sort of moaning. Was it a nightmare?”

  “Yeah, nightmare,” she breathed, wiping her hair back off her sweaty brow.

  He wrapped her in his arms. “Must have been scary, I can feel your heart thumping. Not surprising seeing how you were shot today.”

  Raven was content to let him believe that. How ironic it was that now her husband had finally come back she was having erotic dreams about another man. It wasn’t her first erotic dream. When you only saw your husband a few months out of the year sexual frustration could become an issue but none of her other dreams had been so vivid. Even now she could still feel the stranger’s lips on hers. But what did the dreams mean? Had she taken mescaline one too many times? However One Eye had taken it for years and he was fine. Perhaps it had been a mistake to take the salts. In future she would stick to the tea.

  Aidan was just settling back down to sleep when Raven pressed her lips to his, flipping him onto his back and straddling him. Her body still tingled from the stranger’s kiss.

  Aidan gazed up at his wife as she moved on top of him, running his fingers over her feather tattoos. She threw back her head and arched her spine, releasing a cry of pleasure.

  “What brought that on?” he panted when they were both sated, Raven collapsing on top of him.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  “Missed you too,” he smiled into her neck.

  Raven climbed off him and turned onto her side, Aidan curling himself around her. As she closed her eyes she glimpsed the mysterious man. She could just see him from the stomach upwards, his gaze intense, making her smile into her pillows.

  CHAPTER 20

  “I say we strike,” said Saskia, banging her fist off the table.

  “No surprise there then,” muttered Luke. “And please keep the noise down before you wake everyone up.”

  It was late at night and the three of them had retreated into One Eye’s room to talk, everyone else having retired for the night.

  “We can’t go hunting people down in this small village,” said One Eye. “It would be noticed. Discretion is the key here.”

  “Fuck discretion,” retorted Saskia. “This is survival.”

  “We already have two police officers sniffing round. If we start causing trouble there’ll be more.”

  “One Eye’s right,” said Luke. “We must be subtle if we’re to get out of this alive and without being arrested.”

  “That is sort of thing a worm would say,” said Saskia, eyes icy shards.

  “I’m getting tired of being called a worm,” said Luke. “I’m only trying to help.”

  “Your sort of help causes more problems.”

  “Fine,” snapped Luke, shooting to his feet. “I’ll leave you both to it. I hope it doesn’t hurt too much when Silas kills you.”

  “Running away? How typical of a worm.”

  “Actually worms can’t run because they don’t have any legs, smart arse.”

  “Enough the pair of you,” said One Eye. “Luke, sit down. Saskia, stop goading him. Now we have a real chance of ending this annoying, pointless conflict with the Hagen family and I refuse to let your squabbling get in the way of that.”

  Saskia nodded. “Sorry.”

  One Eye nodded back at her and looked to Luke. “Well?”

  Not wanting to give Saskia the satisfaction of him leaving, he said, “Sorry.”

  “Now let’s put an end to this quarrelling,” said One Eye. “And come up with a viable plan.”

  “We need to fight Silas in the forest,” said Saskia. “Away from villagers. To do that we have to learn the forest.”

  “If we go in there Silas will attack us,” said Luke. “And do not call me a cowardly worm,” he added, looking pointedly at Saskia.

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  “You were thinking it.”

  Her lips curled into a malicious smile revealing strong snow white teeth.

  “What weapons have you brought?” One Eye asked her.

  “My bow and arrow.”

  “Naturally,” he replied with a fond smile.

  “My knives,” she continued, drawing a particularly nasty specimen from inside her boot, the glinting blade making Luke swallow hard. “My traps, two pistols and a few hand grenades.”

  “Saskia, you never fail to impress me,” smiled One Eye.

  “Are you sure you’re not confusing impress with scare?” said Luke.

  “What have you brought?” Saskia demanded of him.

  Luke tapped the side of his head. “The most lethal weapon of all.”

  “Your mouth?” she said with a raised eyebrow.

  Luke glared at One Eye when he chuckled.

  “Anyway, can we be sure Silas is still hanging about?” said Luke. “Nothing has been seen of him since the bear incident up at that God awful glamping site.”

  “I hate to say it,” said Saskia. “But the worm has a point.”

  “Silas is still here because the ravens are here,” said One Eye.

  They both nodded, finding nothing odd about this statement.

  “You have to let me scout forest,” said Saskia. “If he is here I will find him.”

  “Then I’ll come with you,” said One Eye. “I won’t let you go in there alone.”

  “And I’ll come too,” said Luke, getting to his feet. “I won’t be accused of being a cowardly worm again.”

  “You can’t manage on bad foot,” Saskia told One Eye.

  “It’s much improved thank you.”

  “I don’t think enough for walking in forest. If you hurt it again you will be no use.”

  “She does have a point,” said Luke.

  “I go alone,” she continued. “I move through forest quicker and quieter alone.”

  “Now I don’t think…,” began One Eye.

  “You know I’m right,” she said, fixing him with her piercing gaze. “Do not get sentimental. Before you not think twice about ordering me in alone.”

  One Eye knew she was right. In his younger days he would have sent her in with no qualms but as he’d aged he had grown a little softer and more caring. “Alright Saskia, just please be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “It’s easy to get lost in the woods,” said Luke. “Especially at night.”

  “Is forest, not woods,” said S
askia.

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Forest is larger, denser. More places to hide. Woods can be just a few trees. Hard to hide in.”

  “You know Saskia, you’d get on well with Frederick.”

  “Who is this Frederick?”

  “He’s a guest here, big into the local wildlife. You should have a chat, you’d get on well.”

  “Is he attractive?”

  “Not particularly. Why?”

  “I would like some sex while I am here,” she announced. “It has been a few days for me. I don’t usually go so long without but I do lot of travelling lately and I not have time.”

  “Well, it would be a nice change for him from his photographs,” said an amused Luke.

  “I think Alan find me attractive, yes?” she said. “He is a bit scrawny but he has a cock, so he might do.”

  “I suppose he does, although I can’t claim to have seen it.”

  “You do know he is married to Cherie,” said One Eye.

  “Who?” said Saskia.

  “The blond woman who very grudgingly served you dinner tonight.”

  “Oh yes, her. A very dull character. Alan will probably like some excitement in bed.”

  “I’m not sure he can take your sort of excitement Saskia,” said Luke. “He’ll probably faint. What are you doing?” he added when she sniffed the air around him.

  “Can anyone smell goats?” she said, making him scowl. She looked to One Eye. “So, I go into forest tonight?”

  He sighed and nodded. “Yes. Just please come back alive.”

  “Of course I will because I not do anything that will make Luke happy.”

  Saskia had rejected her usual white clothes in favour of all black, hair covered with a black baseball cap, the high heels replaced by sensible black boots. Her trusty bow and arrow were slung across her back. It was a still crisp night, the sky clear and moon bright. How she loved being out in nature, especially at night when everyone else was in bed. It was so liberating having this natural vastness to herself. She loathed being cooped up indoors, segregated from the trees and the land. This was a beautiful place. If only it had been snowing it would be perfect.

  She didn’t allow the beauty of her surroundings to distract her from her purpose. Tonight she hunted, which made her feel so alive.

  Ducking down behind a tree she paused to listen, hearing nothing but the screech of an owl overhead, the soft scamper of a hedgehog moving about somewhere to her left. There was nothing else.

  Satisfied she was alone, she straightened up and continued the hunt.

  Silas groaned, swigging from a bottle of cheap whisky, hoping to deaden the pain in his thigh. He’d stitched up the wound, which would heal but he would be left with another scar to add to the collection, all thanks to that fucking bitch. He slammed the empty bottle down on the table, once, twice, three times before hurling it against the wall with a cry of rage. He couldn’t believe that not only had he failed to kill a fucking woman but that she had in turn hurt him. He was so furious he was tempted to leave off the hunt for the bastard One Eye and go after Raven instead.

  He stood in the centre of his motor home that was hidden in a clearing on the other side of the forest that ran around Caillte, out of sight of the villagers. He breathed furiously, logic fighting against pure rage, all the things he would like to do to that slag racing through his head so fast he struggled to catch his breath, all of which were very pleasurable. Plus she was One Eye’s daughter. Violating her before killing her would bring his nemesis so much pain, which was his main aim in life. Her brother was travelling with her but there were ways around him. Perhaps he would take both of One Eye’s children, destroy him before putting him out of his misery altogether.

  Pain shot through his thigh and he slumped into a chair. He would be going nowhere tonight, thanks to that fucking whore. The scarred skin on his face felt tight and uncomfortable. He massaged cream into it from the tub on the table. Having to use these products didn’t help his mood any but they did relieve the unpleasant sensations. The scarring wasn’t only confined to his face. His right arm and part of his stomach and chest were similarly scarred and always would be, all thanks to the bastard One Eye and his family. Still, his injuries were nothing compared to what had happened to his brother.

  His thoughts drifted back to the past, to the night of the fire. The house that had been a home, the place he’d loved most in the world had been transformed into a living hell. He recalled struggling to breathe through the choking smoke, his brother lying inert beside him, the agony as the fire began to eat away at his flesh…

  He snatched up a second bottle of whisky, tore off the cap and gulped down more of the harsh liquid. He’d returned to Caillte to keep watch on One Eye. The last thing he needed was for him to vanish into the ether again.

  There was the tinkle of glass and something shot through the window, shattering it. Flinging himself aside, a second projectile whipped past his face before embedding itself in the wall behind him.

  Silas threw himself to the floor as a third projectile shot through the broken window, cold air washing over him. Anger gripped him as he looked at the arrows sticking out of his wall. These were no ordinary arrows made from wood. They were heavy duty carbon fibre, the feathers an icy blue.

  “Saskia,” he growled.

  So One Eye had called in reinforcements. Silas had considered this possibility but he hadn’t thought they’d actually respond to a summons. He’d assumed his last assault had scattered their little band to the four winds. If Saskia was here, were the others too?

  His musings were interrupted by another arrow flying inside when he shifted, the pain in his thigh forcing him to move. His volcanic temper swelled up inside him, furious about being repeatedly attacked by these stupid women. Well he would finish off the she-wolf, which would leave One Eye considerably weakened, she was one of his greatest warriors.

  After switching off the lights he belly-crawled across the floor, ripped off a wall panel and took out a hand gun. This wouldn’t be easy, Saskia was an experienced hunter. Dammit, why had he drawn this out? He should have just killed One Eye when he’d had the chance but the feud with them had gone on for so long, since they were both young men that a quick kill wouldn’t have been enough to satisfy him and he would have been left with that tormenting frustration for the rest of his life.

  Another arrow whistled through the window, striking the wall with a jarring thud. But first he had to get out of this alive. He was used to being the hunter, not the hunted. A bellow unleashed itself from deep within his belly, erupting through his mouth as an almighty roar. He leapt to his feet, rage and adrenaline tempering the pain in his leg and he fired through the open window. The gun had a silencer on the end so the shots wouldn’t be heard by the locals.

  After he’d emptied the clip he ducked back down again to listen. As the minutes ticked by and he heard nothing he grew more confident. Maybe he’d killed the she-wolf? Something many had tried to do and failed.

  Dragging himself to the shattered window he hauled himself up to a sitting position to peer outside. All he could see was the gentle wave of the trees as the breeze picked up, all he could hear was the rustle of leaves. He reloaded the gun, so practiced he was able to do it without looking down at his hands, his gaze riveted on the window.

  His head snapped round when he heard a sound from the back of the motor home. Perhaps a twig snapping underfoot? Was that Saskia though? A hunter of not just animals but humans as experienced as she was would never make such a mistake. It could be a trap to lure him to where she wanted him to go. Well he wasn’t going to fall for it. He would stay where he was and wait for her to make her move.

  There was a thud from the back of the van, louder this time. He crawled through the van on his elbows, the noises increasing. When there was the sound of running footsteps he leapt to his feet to peer outside, alarmed when he saw an orange glow and smelled the acrid stench of smoke. The she-wolf
had set fire to the van.

  Fire.

  Silas froze as he was assailed by memories of that horrific night, the agony as the flames ate away at his body, his own screams filling his ears…

  He snapped out of it when the floor beneath his feet grew alarmingly hot. It occurred to him that the main fuel line ran right where he was standing.

  Silas raced towards the front of the van, pausing to snatch up the rest of his weapons from the panel and flinging a bag across his shoulders before shooting out the windscreen and leaping out of it headfirst. He landed in the undergrowth and rolled, the whistle of another arrow passing overhead.

  Without pause he leapt up, the pain in his leg now entirely forgotten as he raced through the trees. There was a massive explosion and he was pitched into the soft leaves, heat searing his back. Fighting through the shock and pain he flipped onto his back and raised the gun, firing into the darkness. He glimpsed a pale face, heard the soft pad of footsteps. Jesus, that woman moved like a ghost. He rolled again as another arrow shot through the air and landed squarely between his splayed legs.

  “Fucking bitch,” he roared, firing again in the direction the arrow had come from.

  He heard a squeal of pain then nothing.

  Keeping the gun raised Silas dragged himself to his feet, head ringing, back stinging and his injured leg shaking. Never had he felt so vulnerable and that was all because of those interfering bitches. Keeping the gun raised he hobbled behind a tree, eyes scanning the darkness for movement. Then he saw it, the shape slumped on the ground, a hand pressed to their side. He’d injured the she-wolf.

  Silas hobbled out of his hiding place, keeping the gun trained on Saskia, her back resting against a tree, an arm wrapped around her stomach. Those icy eyes of hers were almost luminous in the darkness as they fearlessly fixated on him.

  “A pathetic end for a great hunter,” he said in Norwegian, taking aim at her head.

  Her lips curled into a smile. “That is a matter of perspective.”

  There was a snap underfoot and Silas looked down to see his foot trapped in a metal cage. With a cry of alarm he dropped the gun, snatched up a thick twig and jammed it into the contraption before the teeth of the trap could bite into his ankle. Immediately the twig started to crack. Reaching out with his free hand he grabbed a thicker piece of wood and wedged that in too, the tendons popping out in his neck as he fought back against the vicious teeth of the trap as they chomped through the wood towards his vulnerable flesh.