by Jocelyn Fox
The door of the shed swung open. “All good?” Duke asked, her Beretta held in his right hand – finger straight and off the trigger, safety on, pointed down at the ground.
“For now,” Ross replied. “The cops are gone. Everyone okay here?”
“We should get back to the house,” said Duke. No smile, no joke about how she’d probably been waiting to use that deconfliction technique for the past three years. They hadn’t turned on the one bare light bulb in the shed, leaving the only illumination the weak moonlight filtering in through the small square window. Ross spotted Merrick and Luca by the paleness of their skin when they moved.
“What’s wrong?” she said. Duke shook his head slightly and moved through the door, holding it open for Merrick and Luca. Merrick slipped through first, conspicuously avoiding the old wrought iron hinges on the door, turning back to watch Luca. The ulfdrengr walked stiffly, as though every step cost him, and he held a piece of cloth, ripped from the bottom of Merrick’s shirt, Ross saw, to his nose. Even in the shadows, Ross saw that the cloth was dark with blood.
“It’s getting worse,” Duke said quietly to Ross.
“You guys just can’t catch a break,” she murmured, reaching out instinctively as Luca wavered; but Merrick was there, silently pulling the big man’s arm over his shoulder. The flashlight from Ross’s phone flickered and then died with a pop and a small curl of white smoke. She shoved the phone into her pocket again, thinking that she probably wouldn’t be able to revive it from its second close encounter with whatever strange energy field surrounded her otherworldly visitors.
When they reached the house, she made them wait while she slid around to the front porch and ensured that none of the patrol cars had returned and no neighbors had made their way over out of curiosity. She walked quietly back toward where the men waited, pausing as she passed her bedroom window. An acrid smell lingered in the air, setting her teeth on edge, reminding her of charred flesh and burnt hair. Dark streaks marked the pane of the window. She knew in the morning light they’d be rust-colored: dried blood, a gory echo of stained glass. With one last glance, she drew her shoulders back and strode toward the back of the house.
May waited for them in the living room, sitting patiently by the couch watching the door. She whined low in her throat as they crossed the threshold. Luca stumbled, and the big dog inserted herself under his hand as he reached for something to steady himself. Ross shivered at the strange rippling feeling that washed over her as she stepped past Merrick’s runes on the doorframe. As she watched May with Luca, the sight only added to her certainty that Duke was telling the truth about his fantastic adventure.
Duke shut the door behind them and threw the deadbolt. He surveyed the runes. “Do these need reinforcement or anything?”
Merrick shook his head as Luca sat down heavily on the couch. The ulfdrengr experimentally removed the wadded cloth from his nose and sighed when blood slid down over his lip, pressing the cloth to his face again and muttering what Ross thought were curses in some language that sounded a bit like Norse. She noticed with detached interest that the blood on the cloth wasn’t red, but a dark blue, almost black. So they were indeed very physiologically different, if their blood didn’t oxidize to red in the open air, she thought clinically.
Mayhem whined, looked at Luca on the couch and then up at Ross, shifting her weight between her front paws. Ross smiled a little at the dog’s steadfast obedience, even though there was clearly a connection between the ulfdrengr and the former war dog.
“Go ahead,” she said to May, giving her a nod and a discreet hand signal. The dog leapt up onto the couch and settled herself across Luca’s legs, laying her head on her paws. Luca opened his eyes and gazed down at Mayhem, his face unreadable. Then he leaned his head back against the couch and his free hand made its way to Mayhem’s head. He idly stroked Mayhem’s ears, and the dog made a low, approving sound. Ross smiled a little at the image the two of them made, but then she felt a twinge of loss. It looked as though Mayhem wouldn’t be sleeping at the foot of Ross’s bed tonight, despite Luca’s earlier words.
Merrick stood in front of the door, surveying his runes. He said a foreign word in a low voice and the silver thumbprint in the middle of the door flared. Ross started slightly when the silver sparks raced out again around the house, but no one else, including Mayhem, so much as batted an eye.
“The runes will hold,” said Merrick. “If it had tried to cross the threshold, it would have been killed.”
Ross swallowed. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for protection…but sometimes killing things causes more trouble than just scaring them off.”
“The bone sorcerer has not been scared off, as you say,” said Luca, taking the cloth away from his nose again and nodding in satisfaction when no blood slid down to his upper lip. He looked up at Ross, one hand still stroking Mayhem’s ears. “He sent a scout. The destruction of that scout will matter little to him. He’ll just make another.”
“Why? Why will he make another?” Ross shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why does he care about you at all?”
“We are the first of our kind to enter your world in hundreds of years,” said Luca.
“That’s not entirely true,” demurred Merrick, his luminous gray eyes contemplative. “The Queens still sent their Named Knights into the mortal world after the closing of the Great Gate, and the Glasidhe have still passed through the veil as messengers.”
“Why do you think the Queens only send their Named Knights?” asked Luca, arching one eyebrow. His hand slowed and then stopped gliding over Mayhem’s pointed black ears. The dog opened one eye, waited a moment, opened her other eye and nosed his palm in clear suggestion.
“Diva,” muttered Ross at the dog. Duke smiled tiredly. Luca chuckled and obligingly resumed indulging the dog.
Merrick frowned slightly. He glanced down at the naked sword he still held in his right hand, studying his reflection on the gleaming silver blade. “The Named Knights must be protected,” he said slowly. “There must be rituals…runes, perhaps.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t necessary for us to learn any of that when we were younger. When I was apprenticing as a navigator, I asked about the mortal world…but all it got me was boxed ears.” He gave half a rueful grin and then sobered. “It would make sense. There would have to be precautions taken against iron poisoning, and discovery…and the other dangers of the mortal world.” He shook his head slightly. “I never thought to ask again.”
Ross tried to stifle a yawn and failed. Her jaw popped and she winced as the exhaustion pressed down again. “Are we safe until dawn, at least?”
“Dawn is only a few hours away,” said Duke.
“A few hours that I think everyone should spend getting some rest,” she returned. He raised his hands slightly in a signal of deference.
“The runes should hold.” Merrick looked at Luca and then at Ross. “We will stay out here.”
Ross wasn’t sure whether it was because Luca looked like he was already falling asleep with Mayhem laid across his legs or that Merrick wanted to guard the door, or both. She didn’t particularly care. Duke and Merrick made quick work of moving the air mattress to the living room floor. Merrick laid his sword within reach and set about rearranging the blankets to his liking. She checked the deadbolt on the door out of habit, a strange warm buzz vibrating through her skin when she touched the lock. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was strange.
“See you in the morning,” she said to the two men. Luca didn’t reply, but Merrick smiled at her in response before turning back to his preparations for sleep. He pulled his shirt over his head and Ross had to turn away to prevent herself from staring at his bare torso. Whatever else she thought about these alien guests, she acknowledged two things: they were definitely not from her world, and they were beautiful in a way that only confirmed their alien nature. She wondered if phones would short out around Merrick, too. Then she sighed, walking down the hallway toward her bedroom.
> “You all right?” Duke touched her shoulder gently.
“Mind’s racing like it does when I need to go to sleep,” she said honestly. They stood just outside the open doorway of the guest room.
Duke glanced at the rumpled futon. “Guess that’s mine for the rest of the night.” He smiled crookedly.
Ross turned her head and looked down the hallway toward her room. She imagined how the blood on the window would look from the inside as she laid in her bed, and she shivered.
“Hey,” said Duke softly. His hand lingered on her arm, warm and reassuring. “It’s over. He’s gone.”
“For now,” Ross whispered. She turned back to Duke and sighed in frustration. “All I want to do is sleep, but I don’t want to go in there. Stupid, huh?”
“It’s not stupid,” said Duke. “You saw some weird stuff tonight. It’s okay to be creeped out. Heck, I’m creeped out and I wasn’t the one who woke up…” He trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck, realizing too late that it probably wouldn’t help Ross’s frame of mind to rehash her first glimpse of the bone sorcerer’s minion.
“You weren’t the one who woke up to a guy clawing his fingers bloody on your bedroom window,” finished Ross with a hard smile. Her head ached and her eyes felt like half a sandbox had been dumped under her eyelids. God, all she wanted was sleep but each step toward her bedroom wound the knot of anxiety in her stomach even tighter.
“Hey,” said Duke, rubbing her arm slightly to get her attention. He nodded to the guest room. “You said this futon has held more than one person before, right?” Something surfaced in his eyes again when he said it, but he made the joke gamely.
She suddenly realized what he’d thought when she’d made the statement earlier. “Noah, I didn’t mean that I’d…or that anyone…” She kept trying to figure out a way to say it and stopped, taking a breath. “I haven’t slept with anyone since you…went away, if that’s what you thought I meant earlier.”
Duke rubbed the back of his neck the way he always did when she pinpointed one of his thoughts. “Well, I mean…I wouldn’t say…it would’ve been perfectly…”
“We can talk about it tomorrow,” she said with what she hoped was a smile. Her face felt numb. “But do you really mean it?”
“Mean…? Oh, of course,” stumbled Duke. “Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”
“Okay. I’m going to wash my face and then I’ll be in.” She walked like a sleepwalker to the hallway bathroom, feeling like her legs weren’t her own. As she stood in front of the mirror, she realized dully that she still held the Glock in her right hand. She placed the gun on the counter by the sink. Flattening her palms against the cool countertop, she braced herself on her arms and stared into the mirror at her reflection. She looked like she’d expected herself to look, exhaustion written on her face in the shadows beneath her eyes, the lack of color in her cheeks and the pinched corners of her mouth. But there was something else, something in her eyes. The closest she could come to describing it in her own head was that it looked like she’d seen a ghost, and now she expected a poltergeist to appear at any moment.
She reached to turn the faucet on and stopped, staring down at the dried blood on her hand. Then she turned on the water, waited until steam rose from the sink basin, and scrubbed her hands until they were stinging and red.
Ross padded down the hallway toward the guest room, face freshly washed, one of her raw hands clasped around the Glock. Duke sat on the edge of the futon, staring down at his own hands. She wondered when he’d washed them; they looked clean. He looked up at her, she shut the door behind her, and crossed the space between them.
“I don’t know what else is going to happen,” she said. “I’m still processing what’s already happened.” She set the Glock down on the end table by the futon and then turned back to Duke. “But no matter what happens, it’s worth it to have you back.”
His hands found her hips, and he drew her down onto the futon. She twined her arms around his neck as they lay down, her legs tangling with his.
“The light’s still on,” she whispered, her head finding the spot between his neck and shoulder where she fit perfectly. She pressed her forehead against his neck and breathed in the warm scent of him.
“Do you want me to get up and turn it off?” His arms tightened slightly around her and his voice rumbled through his chest into her cheek.
“No,” she murmured drowsily, eyes drifting shut. She vaguely felt him pull a blanket over them, then his chest rose and fell in a quiet sigh. His warmth melted the knot in her own chest, and she finally relaxed, letting herself slide into sleep.
Ross awoke to the smell of bacon drifting through the door of the study. She stirred and yawned, expecting to find Duke out of bed already and making breakfast, as he tended to do. He woke up earlier than her most days, even on the weekends. He usually cooked breakfast and then woke her up with a kiss. But when she moved, stretching her stiff neck and shoulders, she found that there were still warm, muscled arms wrapped loosely about her. She sat bolt upright and Duke awoke with a start as she scrambled off the futon, almost falling in the process.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded as she untangled the blanket from around her legs.
“They’re going to burn down the house!” she exclaimed, running for the door.
“What…who?” Duke rubbed his eyes as he followed her hasty steps toward the kitchen. “Oh.” His eyebrows rose of their own accord as he took in the scene: Merrick, still shirtless, tending bacon in a stainless steel skillet, and Luca experimentally sniffing at an opened carton of milk. Mayhem sat at Merrick’s feet, gaze glued to the skillet. Duke winced and glanced at Ross as Luca started to drink milk straight from the carton. After a few swallows, Luca made a face of approval. Merrick jumped a little and muttered something under his breath as a crackle of bacon grease leapt from the pan and singed him.
“Cooking bacon shirtless is never a good idea,” said Ross in an only slightly strangled voice. Duke couldn’t tell if she was trying not to laugh or just arrested by the sight of the Sidhe man and ulfdrengr in her kitchen.
“I did not want to dirty your shirt anymore,” said Merrick to Duke.
“That’s what a washing machine is for,” Ross said in that same strangled voice.
Merrick raised his eyebrows. “I’d like to see this…ma-chine. It sounds like it is a convenient invention.”
“Like your ice-box,” contributed Luca. Ross spied a loaf of bread already on the table, half of it gone, with an open jar of peanut butter beside it and a knife stuck in the spread like a claimant’s flag.
“I’m going to have to go get more groceries,” she said faintly.
Duke stepped past her. “It’s called a refrigerator,” he told Luca. He opened a cabinet, found a glass and set it down in front of Luca, who looked at it questioningly. Duke sighed, took the carton of milk from Luca’s hand and poured him a glass of milk.
Ross gulped down a giggle. “Um, I…how did you know how to...?”
Merrick glanced at her, holding a baby-blue spatula in one hand. Vivian was a fan of kitchen accessories in pastel colors. Ross pressed her lips together firmly to suppress the smile that threatened to curve her mouth.
“We may be new to your world,” Merrick said seriously, arching an eyebrow, “but we’re not idiots.”
This time she couldn’t contain the spasm of laughter. Duke looked at her as though he couldn’t decide whether he should ask what was wrong or join her in laughing at the absurd tableau. Merrick’s eyebrow rose fractionally higher and he turned back to the skillet, unsmiling. Ross thought suddenly that maybe she’d offended him. “No,” she gasped, finally able to catch her breath. “I’m not laughing because I think you’re idiots. Really, Merrick, that’s not why I laughed.”
He looked at her with consideration.
“I just…my roommate, Vivian, she….” Ross bit her lip to keep herself from laughing again. The thought of Vivian’s reaction to these beauti
ful men casually tearing apart the kitchen was enough to whip up another frothing geyser of giggles.
“You’re giggling,” said Duke flatly. “You usually don’t giggle. Are you sure nothing is wrong?”
Ross couldn’t catch her breath. She’d never heard of a panic attack inspired by helpless laughter, but there was a first time for everything. Then a sound cut through everything, making her stand up straight and stop laughing. It was the sound of a key turning in the door.
“Merrick,” she said quickly, “will your runes kill anything that comes through the door other than us?”
“Of course not,” he said, sounding slightly affronted. “Only things of Dark origins.”
“Okay, I have no idea what that means but another human won’t be hurt?”
“No, not unless they are inhabited by a Dark spirit.”
The doorknob turned. May wrenched her attention from the bacon in the skillet and trotted toward the door, tail wagging slightly. Luca and Merrick both turned toward the door, Luca with an axe in his hand and Merrick with the baby-blue spatula held like a dagger.
“My life has turned into a sitcom,” Ross said breathlessly, trying not to dissolve into giggles again as the door opened. Her roommate, Vivian, walked into the living room, talking as soon as she crossed the threshold. She focused on taking off her shoes and depositing her car keys in the little dish on the table by the door.
“Ross, did you drop your phone in the toilet or something? And there’s a stain on the door. Gross. I texted you and called this morning but there was no…” She finally looked up and her voice died as she saw Luca with his axe; Merrick with his spatula; Ross with her hand clasped over her mouth and her shoulders shaking in silent laughter, and Duke leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “…answer,” she finished. Her eyes performed another circuit of the room and lingered on Merrick, her mouth forming a little circle of astonishment. She dropped her backpack by the door with a thud.
