by Shea Balik
“What happened?” Brandr demanded.
Ruth looked at him with a shrewd gleam in her eye, but Logan, probably too defeated to notice his interest or worry about the simmering anger in Brandr’s tone, said “They died, that’s what happened.”
Brandr could feel the ring of truth in Logan’s voice but something about what he said didn’t make sense. The problem was, Brandr didn’t know what it was, nor was he able to go investigate things for himself.
But something niggled in the back of his mind. Out of the side of his vision, he saw what it was that was bothering him. “Wallace?” He was just barely able to make his finger point in the direction of the man who had been about to play soccer with his head.
Logan refused to glance at the dead man, but he did nod his head. If possible, his shoulders slumped even further.
“But he was killed by a pet,” Brandr said. “You didn’t have anything to do with his death.”
“A pet?” Logan’s face was a study of confusion.
“The creatures you see around you,” Brandr told him.
That had Logan breaking out into laughter again. This time, the sound was more joyous then before, as if he truly found what Brandr had said the funniest thing he’d heard.
“Is that what you call them?” Ruth’s voice held more than a fair amount of disgust in it. “That’s doesn’t seem appropriate.”
Brandr had always thought the same thing. Not that he’d had any experience with pets before coming face to face with the monsters, but it wasn’t as if he wanted to keep one to cuddle. “It’s what the Fae call them.”
“That’s fucked up,” Logan said. “What kind of freak has a pet that acts more like a trained soldier than an animal?”
“That would be the Unseelie,” Brandr told them. “Considering what they’re willing to do to humans, pets are the least of our worries.”
That had both Logan and Ruth stilling as they stared first at him, then each other, before their gazes returned to Brandr. “What does that mean?” Logan asked.
The fear that clouded those pretty azure eyes had Brandr second guessing himself. It wasn’t as if telling Logan the truth about how the Fae could enthrall humans was going to change anything at the moment. If he couldn’t get in touch with his friends to come get them, they were stuck out there in the middle of nowhere with no hope of anyone saving them.
So he did the only thing he could think of, he changed the subject. “Can you help me get my phone out of my pocked?”
He was able to brush two of his fingers along the top edge, but he didn’t have the dexterity or strength yet to rip open the Velcro that kept his phone safely tucked away. He just hoped it had survived the battle. He’d destroyed far too many phones fighting the Fae.
Slowly, Logan knelt onto the ground next to him. A breeze blew the scent of him straight into Brandr’s nose. His eyes started to roll back in his head at the aroma of wildflowers and vanilla. If he had to guess, it was either Logan’s shampoo or soap, but it was still intoxicating.
Fingers brushed along his own, sending tendrils of electricity through his body. Logan’s gasp let Brandr know he felt it, too. The sound of Velcro separating was followed by a sigh of disappointment.
“Sorry,” Logan held up his phone. Or, the pieces of his phone. “It didn’t make it.”
“Shit,” Brandr cursed. “I don’t suppose either of you…” but they were both already shaking their heads.
“The last phone we had managed to keep, was left behind when we ran the last time,” Ruth told him. “We’d been surprised when the Veil opened a couple of weeks ago. We lost ten people that day.”
“We don’t even know if that phone was intact since it was one of the people who died that had been holding onto it.” Logan stood back up. “I’m going to get that med kit you mentioned.”
When he was far enough away, Brandr asked Ruth, “So what happened when Logan healed Wallace and the others?”
Her eyes flicked toward Logan before they landed back on Brandr. “He woke up this morning to find he was given the gift to heal others. But instead of slowly using it, he pushed himself too hard by trying to heal six of them,” Ruth whispered. “He passed out for nearly two hours after.”
“The woman, Fianna, wanted me to tell Logan that she and the others kept their promise and sealed the Veil. What did she mean by that?” Brandr could guess, but he wanted to know as much about Logan as possible and that meant details.
“There were forty of us in that bomb shelter. Before the last time we encountered the Fae, the number had been fifty,” Ruth told him. “The number changes as we come across other druids fleeing, or we are attacked and some die. The problem has become the children in our care,” she admitted.
“There are nineteen under the age of eighteen, eleven of those are ten or younger.” There was a sadness in Ruth’s voice that indicated she herself wasn’t comfortable with them around.
Brandr couldn’t exactly blame her. Kids were a challenge. He and his friends protected only three under five and another three under eighteen, yet they were always on Brandr and his friends’ minds. They knew protecting them was nearly impossible, especially with the Fae able to attack them at any time now that they’d figured out how to punch a hole in the Veil without having to wait for its natural decay every six to seven weeks.
“The ones Logan had agreed to heal were the most vocal lately about leaving because they didn’t want to worry about having to risk their lives to save kids that weren’t even theirs,” Ruth told him.
Brandr didn’t say anything. He would never do the same, but he also understood where someone would feel that way.
“When Logan found out he could heal, he decided since those six would leave sooner or later anyway, he could at least have them seal the Veil before they did.”
If Ruth was going to say more, Logan didn’t give her the chance. “What you mean to say is that I sacrificed them since they were more than willing to do the same to us,” Logan said as he stomped back toward them, med kit in hand.
“Tell me what I have to do to save Tyree, Bonnie, and Joffrey,” Logan demanded as he set it down and opened it next to Brandr.
Sooner or later Brandr would find out what happened to Logan when he healed those six people. But right now, he had a job to do.
CHAPTER 4
Exhaustion was like a living thing within Logan’s body as darkness engulfed them like a shroud. It had taken two hours of going from the bunker to where Brandr was still lying in the middle of corpses.
If Logan didn’t clear them away and either bury them or burn them soon, the stench of their decaying bodies would become unbearable. But just the thought of having to drag even Wallace out of the way, much less one of the hulking… pets – don’t even get him started on that term for those monsters.
He didn’t have the energy to even think about it, forget about actually moving them. Maybe he’d have a chance to move Brandr. No. He wasn’t willing to take the chance of the man’s head coming off his body. And how gross was it to discover that was a possibility?
Logan gave a whole body shudder as he knelt back down next to Brandr. “How are you doing?” he asked, a jaw-cracking yawn distorting the last word.
“You need to get some sleep,” Brandr told him. “I’ll be fine. I’m immortal, remember?”
That didn’t mean he didn’t deserve to be treated with kindness. “I brought you a blanket.” Logan spread it over the man’s well-built body. “What about food or water? We don’t have much but…”
“Stop.” Brandr’s finger brushed along the top of Logan’s hand which he’d had on the ground right next to the man. “I won’t be able to eat or drink today or tomorrow.”
“Huh?” Logan hadn’t really meant to say that, not that it mattered, but he was too damn tired to keep his thoughts to himself.
“My neck, which includes my esophagus, is still healing,” Brandr reminded him. “I might be immortal and my ability to heal is faster than a
nyone else, but it does take some time.”
That didn’t seem right for some reason. “But you can’t survive without water for that long.”
Those soft lips that Logan had tried not to constantly stare at, curved into a smile. “Immortal,” Brandr reminded him yet again. “I can go forever without food and water if necessary. It would weaken me, but I’d live.”
“Right.” No matter how many times he heard it, Logan was having trouble grasping that concept. He wasn’t sure he’d want that. Never dying. Yet, at the same time, having to watch those around, pass. It would be… devastating and more than a little bit lonely.
He didn’t want to dwell on the fact that Logan had just gone through the same thing. Watching his family die… being the only survivor… a huge part of Logan had wished he didn’t have to carry that burden.
“You act as if you’ve had your head cut off before,” Logan said, needing the distraction.
“That’s because I have,” Brandr told him. “Only once, but it wasn’t something I could ever forget.”
Logan could feel his jaw drop but try as he might, he couldn’t close it. He didn’t ever want to know what it felt like to be decapitated. Who was he kidding? There wasn’t a body part he was willing to have cut off and wait for it to reattach itself. That was just… creepy.
“How many times have you been injured that you would have died if you hadn’t been immortal?” There was more than just having one’s head cut off to kill you.
Eyes that reminded him of perfectly shined silver stared up at him with amusement dancing in them. “More than I ever wish to keep track of, I assure you. This is one of the worst because I have to wait for someone to put my head on my body, which, as I’m sure you can imagine, doesn’t happen often.”
He couldn’t pinpoint why, but Logan found himself pleased that he had done exactly that. But then his gaze landed on Wallace. It wasn’t easy to ask, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. “What about having your heart ripped from your chest, like…”
Instead of saying Wallace’s name, he pointedly looked at the now dead man. Logan hadn’t liked the man, but no one deserved to die like that.
“Heart or not, I’m able to move around,” Brandr explained. “It still hurts like a bitch, but I can pick up my heart and put it back. Just like everything else, it will take time to heal properly, but other than the ache in my chest, it won’t even slow me down so long as I stitch up the hole it created.”
“Gross.” Tendrils of disgust raced down his spine causing him to shiver. “Never mind. I don’t want to know any more.”
The soft laugh from Brandr had Logan shivering for an entirely different reason. Was it wrong for him to be attracted to a man whose head Logan had just carried a few hours ago? It sure as hell sounded morbid to him.
It made sitting there talking to Brandr even a little more surreal. But it didn’t have to be. Already exhausted from healing Wallace and the others, as well running back and forth between Brandr and the bunker to give Bonnie, Joffrey, and Tyree the medicine they so desperately needed, Logan knew what he was thinking wasn’t a good idea.
Actually, it was a terrible idea. But now that it was there in his head, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t. It was like a compulsion.
“Logan, Ruth said you need to get back quickly,” Ailsa yelled from the mouth of the bunker. “Tyree is shaking hard.”
“He’s having a seizure,” Brandr called out as Logan started to run for the bunker. “Give him a shot of epinephrine,” he just made out as he started down the ladder and into the bunker.
The small confined area was in chaos as shouts were given to pin Tyree down so he wouldn’t hurt himself. Kids were crying, some even screaming as they stared in horror at what was happening before their eyes.
Rushing to the med kit, Logan started to search the contents. It didn’t take long for him to find a syringe labeled epinephrine. Under the name in marker it said, ‘Give for any adverse reaction to medications.’
Trusting Brander knew what he was talking about, which he should, since he was apparently a doctor, Logan grabbed the cylinder and raced to Tyree’s side. The kid had been through so damn much already in his young life.
At eight, he’d lost his parents, as well as one sibling. His other sibling, Leith, was still alive, but at only four, was so withdrawn no one could get him to speak since the two had watched their parents and oldest sister die at the hands of what Brandr called the Unseelie’s pets.
If that wasn’t bad enough, when they were surprised by more monsters a couple of weeks ago, Tryee had his leg split open from hip to ankle. It had been a miracle that he hadn’t died. Although, when infection set in, Logan wasn’t so sure death wouldn’t have been better since they had no way of treating him.
Now this.
It wasn’t fair.
Especially when Logan could heal him. Maybe. The problem with that was Logan wasn’t sure with Tyree so damn sick, if he was even capable of making him better. Not when he was so tired.
And then what about the others? There was no telling if Bonnie or Joffrey would get worse. For that matter, so many of them had injuries that might not have time for Logan to heal them a little at a time.
But there was a doctor who could save them all.
Jabbing the needle into Tyree, they waited, praying the seizures would stop. Thank God it wasn’t a long wait, for Logan honestly wasn’t sure he could take much more.
Since the winter solstice he’d watched his family die and somehow found this group. When he first arrived, there were nearly a hundred of them. Some left, fearing their big numbers would only attract the Fae to them.
Too many died. More joined, only to continue the same process. Now they were left with children with no surviving parents and adults who didn’t want to the responsibility of having to die for someone else’s kids, when they’d already lost their own.
The world was too fucked up for Logan to handle. Why would his ancestors give him the ability to heal but put a limitation on how many he could help? It made no damn sense.
When Tyree was no longer seizing, Logan backed up until he ran into the ladder to the top. “I have to go ask Brandr if there’s anything else we need to do for him,” he lied.
Because Logan was done. He had been doing his best to make things right for everyone there, but he was failing. If they were going to survive, they needed someone better able to handle things than him.
Pushing past the weakness of his body, Logan climbed the ladder once more, wishing, even if just for a short time, he could sleep. But there was no rest to be had. It had been that way since he’d started running ten months before.
Determined to do what had to be done, despite what it might do to him, Logan strode over to where Brandr was still lying. He dropped to his knees next to the man.
“Did you give him the shot?” Brandr asked. “Did it work?”
Logan nodded, for words at that point were impossible. How was he supposed to speak when every cell within his body screamed for him to give into the need for rest.
“What’s wrong?” Brandr asked.
Logan had no idea what he would have said even if he had the energy to talk. Instead, he placed his hands at Brandr’s throat.
Like a switch had been flipped, energy from the earth poured into his body as he channeled it into Brandr.
“Logan,” Brandr shouted. “Don’t.”
But Logan was beyond listening to the man. He needed for Brandr to take over. Was it weak of him? Probably… No. Definitely. But Logan was failing. If they had any shot of surviving, then he had to heal Brandr and let the man take over.
Something he was sure the man excelled at by the few conversations they’d had. That, and the way he barked out orders for helping the sick.
The limited strength he had left was draining fast, but he refused to back away as he could feel the flesh within Brandr’s neck stitching together. Arteries and veins reconnected and the blood b
egan to flow.
He was almost done. Without realizing, Logan’s eyes closed as he continued to fuse muscle and tendons into place so they would hold the weight of Brandr’s head in place.
Hands wrapped around his wrist, forcing them away. He wanted to scream at whoever had stopped him, but the darkness he’d barely been able to keep at bay crept up around him. As it wrapped around his limbs they became too heavy to bare.
But he had one more thing to do. With the tiny sliver of strength he had left, he whispered, “Please help them. I just couldn’t.”
Then the dark mist swirled around his head, leaving only peace in its wake.
CHAPTER 5
‘I just couldn’t’. Those whispered words from Logan would forever haunt Brandr. He had no idea what Logan had been through since he’d joined this group of lost druids, but by the risk he’d been willing to take to heal Brandr, it was obvious there had been too much placed on his young shoulders.
A case could be made for all the druids that had come recently to live with Brandr and his friends, but somehow, he felt reasonably sure Logan had suffered the most. That he would nearly kill himself to heal Brandr, who already would heal relatively quickly, proved that. At least, in his mind.
Standing, with Logan tucked safely in his arms, Brandr headed for the opening to the bunker. Logan had asked him to help. He would have anyway, but there was no way he was going to disappoint Logan.
When he reached the ladder that led down into the steel structure that someone had placed under the ground, Brandr had a choice. Hoist Logan over his shoulder and risk bumping his head against the sides of the narrow passage, leaving Logan on the ground out in the elements while he went down by himself, or…
Tucking Logan tightly to him, Brandr leaped the two stories down, landing on the balls of his feet.
Kids screamed and adults shouted at the intrusion of not only someone they didn’t know, but the fact that it was a cursed one who showed up. Brandr ignored them all, searching for the one face he did know.
