Glimmer in the Maelstrom: Shadow Through Time 3

by Louise Cusack

  He felt her fingers loosen and was at last able to disengage them and use his arm to cradle her against his body. She was limp then, exhausted by her paroxysm of grief. The tribe’s keening cry had softened into a rhythmic moan, and Mooraz hoped Noola would sleep. It would give him time to think. They could not return to the caves, and neither was their destination safe. He must think of a new plan and convince Noola to follow it.

  His priority in that moment was very clear — keep her alive.

  Hush had once told Mooraz he would find love where she led him, and he had foolishly thought she was leading him to Lae, whom he had loved more than life. Instead they had been captured by Plainsmen and somehow Noola had come to love him. He saw it in her eyes, felt it in her touch, wished vainly that he could feel the same in his own heart. Yet though he could not, Noola’s love had bound them together.

  Destiny, it appeared, was not always about prophecy and religion. It was clear to Mooraz that friendship, gratitude and the desire to be loved before you die were important also.

  His duty to Lae was over. For better or for worse, his future now lay in Noola’s hands.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ‘It’s my birthday and I want to celebrate. Besides, we’ve waited a whole year,’ Petra whispered. ‘And don’t tell me you don’t want to, Vandal McGuire,’ she said, closing the door behind her. It was suddenly so dark Vandal couldn’t see her outline.

  He felt his way across to the other side of his bedroom where he wouldn’t be able to touch her, stopping at the end of the bed with his back to the wall. ‘I don’t want to,’ he said, frightened of just how badly he did want to.

  ‘Liar.’

  ‘We can do all the other things,’ he said. ‘You know you like them.’

  He heard the click as she locked the door then turned back to face him. ‘I want you inside me,’ she said simply, and just as simply Vandal was undone. Logic he could deal with. But not this.

  ‘I so want to be inside you,’ he said. ‘But I’m scared.’ Petra was the only person in the world he could say that to, and after years of hiding his hurt it was almost a guilty pleasure to admit his feelings.

  ‘What are you scared of?’ she asked from the door. He was grateful that she hadn’t come closer. If he touched her he knew he’d do it anyway, scared or not.

  ‘If I we do this, together, I won’t be able to leave.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Is that why …?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Vandal swallowed. ‘So it’s not because I’m a stud?’

  Despite the tension she managed to laugh. ‘That would be odd. A virgin stud. Is that a Guardian thing?’

  ‘Sounding like the voice of experience. Little Miss Virgin yourself.’ He smiled at her in the dark and knew she’d be smiling back.

  ‘Tonight,’ she said, and Vandal took a long slow breath.

  ‘I’m not fifteen yet. Maybe we should wait until my birthday.’

  Petra was silent.

  ‘Then what about next week on our anniversary?’

  She let him sweat for a moment before she said, ‘What if you leave before then? Your mum’s … worse.’

  ‘Which is exactly why I have to go,’ Vandal replied, but he’d been distracted by the odd tone in Petra’s voice. Fear? Had his mum frightened her? Petra wasn’t the mouse she’d once been. Their relationship had strengthened them both. Made them feel safe. Or at least, he’d thought it had.

  ‘I don’t want you to go alone,’ she said. ‘If you’re going I want to go with you.’

  Vandal shook his head, forgetting she wouldn’t be able to see him. ‘I’m not even sure I can get there myself. I won’t risk losing you in the void.’ Every time he remembered that day, how close he’d come to being lost forever, his mouth went dry. If Petra hadn’t been there …

  ‘If I can’t go, you can’t,’ she repeated.

  ‘What about helping Glimmer?’ Petra had been adamant about that in the beginning, but lately she hadn’t mentioned it much. ‘You said we should stick together. Family,’ he reminded her, testing her resolve.

  ‘I know,’ she said softly, then gained some conviction. ‘But I don’t care about that any more. I only want you to be safe, to be here, with me.’

  When Petra had first talked him into helping Glimmer he had spent hours wondering what she was doing and how he could possibly help her control weather over four worlds. But time had passed and even with the Maelstrom in their faces every day, Glimmer and her destiny had faded, like the memory of a dream. Petra, on the other hand, was tangible, wonderful, and he didn’t want to lose her. But, ‘What will happen to Mum if I don’t bring my dad back?’

  He could imagine Petra shaking her head. ‘Even if you found him without getting yourself killed, it’s been so long. Two years since he left.’

  ‘That’s not even five months on Ennae,’ Vandal argued, despite wanting to be talked out of it.

  ‘Alright, five months. But if he wanted to come back, why hasn’t he?’

  Vandal had been asking himself the same question for over a year.

  Going to Ennae was a lost cause, but what was the alternative? Concentrate on Petra and let his mum go to hell? Because that’s where she was headed. He could see it in the empty vodka bottles filling their bin each week. She wouldn’t talk. Or listen. Just drank, as though that was all she was capable of. He had to do something for her. He had to try. Didn’t he?

  ‘It’s not your fault that things are this way,’ Petra said. ‘It’s between your mum and your dad. They did this to each other. You shouldn’t have to make it right.’

  She was so sensible, so logical, but that didn’t get him past the problem that he’d promised his mum he’d go. That wasn’t a commitment you could easily sidestep. ‘So you want to … you know, to save my life?’

  ‘No. It’s time you started saving your own life.’

  ‘Petra …’ His breath caught in his throat. ‘I’m in love with you.’ He listened to her breathing for a long time before she answered.

  Her voice was soft, suddenly uncertain. ‘Prove it.’

  Vandal felt his way to the door, his reaching hand connecting with her shoulder. The fingers slid around to the back of her neck and he tilted her head up for his kiss. For a long time that’s all they did. Kiss. Then he lifted her up into his arms the way he’d always imagined he would and carried her to his bed where he laid her carefully on the quilt. Then he lay beside her and she gasped, ‘Don’t squash me,’ and he realised he was lying on her arm.

  ‘Damn, it’s dark in here,’ he said, cursing that he’d spoilt the mood.

  She shushed him with a kiss that turned slow and seductive and soon Vandal’s fingers had worked their way between her buttons and onto her skin.

  ‘No tingling touch this time,’ she said, her own fingers busy with the buttons of his shirt. ‘Just you.’

  Vandal felt surprise, then apprehension. He’d given her so much pleasure in the past and tonight was the most important night. What if he was clumsy? If she felt … unsatisfied?

  He must have stilled to think about that because Petra stopped unbuttoning and found his ear with her lips. ‘You’re more than the power you inherited from your dad,’ she said. ‘That’s not what I’m in love with.’

  Vandal felt the reassurance of her words wash over him. All his life he’d been fighting to step out of his father’s shadow. To be his own man. But despite her permission to do just that, a part of him felt insecure. Petra had been wonderful for his confidence, but tied into that new self-image was the knowledge that she thought he was incredible. Now she wanted him to be nothing more than the Vandal he’d been before he discovered his powers. No one had liked that Vandal.

  She touched his cheek. ‘Hey.’ Then the night-light clicked on and they were bathed in purple light. ‘What’s wrong?’

  His arm still rested across her ribs but he lay back on the pillow, looking at the ceiling, knowing there was no way he could be honest th
is time. There was only so much a man could admit. ‘I just need a minute.’

  He’d thought it would worry her, but she leant over him, smiling. ‘You’re thinking too much again, McGuire,’ she told him and reached down into his jeans. ‘The big guy doesn’t need to think about it. Why should you?’

  Vandal smiled in spite of himself.

  ‘He’s saying, “Get her while she’s hot for you, boy!”’

  He closed his eyes, his smile widening as the delicious sensations her hand produced pulsed through his loins.

  He felt her breath on his lips. ‘Kiss me,’ and he did. ‘That’s better,’ she said when she’d helped him forget everything but the taste of her mouth and the feel of her hands. ‘Stopped thinking?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Vandal got busy with the contents of the little foil packet he’d kept under his pillow for such an occasion, while Petra threw the last of her clothes onto the floor. He turned back to her then and caught his breath. He’d never seen her completely naked, and he wanted to savour the experience.

  ‘Thinking again?’ she asked, but he could hear the catch in her voice, had seen her blush.

  ‘Admiring,’ he said. ‘Remembering. If you don’t let me use my powers, this could be the last time I find you in my bed.’ He reached out to touch a fingertip to her nipple and watched it harden under his gentlest touch, waiting to hear what she’d say, not sure if he was glad he’d admitted his fears or not. He spread his fingers and cupped her breast, heard her soft sigh of appreciation. Tried not to think. Then he thought anyway, that maybe it was going to be alright after all.

  ‘Look at me,’ she said.

  ‘I am,’ he replied, his gaze drifting lower.

  ‘My eyes, Vandal.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry.’ He looked up and found her large brown eyes gazing up into his. He smiled apologetically. ‘There’s so much to see.’

  She blushed again. ‘Glad you like the view.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want …?’

  She shook her head, her new feathered haircut spilling across his pillow. ‘This isn’t about … that. It’s about our hearts.’ She looked suddenly vulnerable and young. ‘It’s about love.’

  And finally Vandal got it, and he stopped worrying. All he had to prove was that he loved Petra, and that would be so easy. Every time he looked at her he felt it. A surge like his Guardian power, only so much more. The need to kiss her, to touch her, to protect her and listen to her and laugh with her. But most of all, to be with her, forever. That’s what this was about, proving he would stay with her.

  He moved on top of her and looked down into her eyes, seeing the love shining back at him. You know what to do, he told himself. God knows he’d fantasised about it often enough. And somehow it worked itself out. One second he was fiddling and the next he’d slipped inside her and she caught her breath. The sensation of it overwhelmed Vandal. Incredibly, in that one movement he had stopped being a boy and become a man. He could see it in Petra’s eyes. Could feel it in his soul. His hips began to move of their own volition and the feeling of being joined with Petra was so sweet and so satisfying that he thought he might cry.

  Instead Petra said, ‘Kiss me,’ and he did, thinking only of the love and nothing else. It didn’t take long. But Vandal knew that was alright too. Petra was kissing him and stroking his back and making the soft noises of pleasure that he dreamt of when she wasn’t there. And at last the tension built too high to be held back and he pulled up from the kiss so he could look at her, his hips moving harder, faster, oblivious to the creaking of the bed or his own rasping breaths.

  Then the pleasure exploded and Vandal squeezed the breast he was holding, his body trembling against Petra’s, his head falling forward, his eyes closing. He had the presence of mind to keep his full weight off her, but that was all he was capable of. It was like being electrocuted — in a good way. Then he was limp inside and out.

  Petra was still for a moment, then he felt her hands begin stroking his back again, as though soothing, or reassuring him. At last she said, ‘You’re going to think I’m stupid, but I feel different. As if I’ve changed somehow.’ She waited while Vandal thought of something to say. But it was difficult. His brain felt as drained as his body.

  ‘I feel different too,’ he said at last. An understatement. Vandal’s world had shifted. ‘I’m staying here with you,’ he said and kissed her hair; then he lifted himself to kiss her forehead and finally her lips. ‘And as soon as we can I want us living together. Not here.’ Vandal would work digging ditches if that’s what it took to buy them the independence they needed. To hell with his high science scores. The Maelstrom was destroying cities. Soon there wouldn’t be any universities left to study in. His future was with Petra, for however long they had.

  ‘We’ll run away if we have to,’ Petra said.

  He hugged her close, rolling onto his side so they could lie together, still joined. Later he’d get up and dispose of the condom, walk Petra home. For now he couldn’t bear for them to separate, and Petra obviously felt the same way. She snuggled into his arms as though she’d been made to fit them. Vandal closed his eyes and imagined the life they would share together. Waking each morning in each other’s arms, eating together, shopping, cooking meals. Making love whenever they felt like it. Showering together. Oh, the fantasies he’d had about Petra and the shower.

  He smiled as their happy future played out in his mind. But his body demanded rest and, without intending to, Vandal fell into a deep, satisfied slumber.

  He woke some time later to an empty bed and slapped the sheets with a feeble hand before he frowned and looked at the bedside clock. Three a.m. That kick-started his brain. Shit. Her parents would be wild if she hadn’t made it home by now. He should never have fallen asleep.

  The covers flew back as he scrabbled for his clothes. Something damp on his leg. The condom. Yet rather than eliciting distaste, this reminder of their new commitment to each other brought Vandal another surge of satisfaction. Still, he disposed of it quickly and pulled on his jeans, intent on catching Petra up and walking her home. They hadn’t had a cyclone for almost a week but he didn’t want to take any risks with her safety. And besides, if she was going to cop trouble, he wanted to share the burden. Perhaps it would be a good time to tell her parents they were moving in together.

  Vandal felt around the floor for his joggers and came up with something else. Stiff fabric. His night-light wasn’t providing enough illumination so he went to the wall and switched on the ceiling light. Petra’s jeans in his hand. He went back to the bed and found her bra caught up in the quilt. Bra and jeans. That meant she was wearing a g-string and T-shirt. Not a get-up you’d normally walk home in.

  She must have gone to the toilet. Intending to come back and dress properly before she left. But if that was the case, why wasn’t she back?

  Vandal switched off the ceiling light and opened his door, then walked cautiously into the hallway. His mother was usually comatose by now but he didn’t want to risk disturbing her in case she wasn’t. She’d been weird lately. Worse than just drunk. Thinking Petra was Lae, come to Magoria to lure Vandal away too. The last thing he wanted was his mother ranting on to Petra, spoiling their special night.

  He tiptoed to the bathroom but the light was off. He switched it on and looked in anyway. Empty, but there was a smear of blood on the floor beside the toilet. Had Petra started to bleed and gone to clean up. He’d noticed she was embarrassed about her periods. It would be like her to prefer privacy. But why had there been no blood in his bed? And where was she now?

  A noise at the back door. He didn’t stop to wonder what Petra was doing outside in her underwear. He simply headed down the hallway and had taken one step into the kitchen when the light clicked on and he was confronted by his mother’s bleary eyes.

  She jerked, apparently as startled as he was, then held up a hand. ‘Too late,’ she slurred. The hand was filthy.

  Vandal blinked, then looked at the rest o
f her. She was covered in dirt, from her oily hair down the length of her tattered dressing gown to the soles of her bare feet. As if she’d been rolling in it. Prickling tentacles of apprehension crept down Vandal’s spine.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he asked, and, ‘Where’s Petra?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Pagan kicked his quilt off and sat up in bed, gazing around his room in the faint light of a candle burnt low. He couldn’t sleep. Perhaps he should go and visit Barrion of Verdan who, despite all the comforts the Be’uccdha physician could give him, still longed to be returned to his people as soon as the Maelstrom allowed clear passage.

  Ten weeks ago, when Pagan had arrived at Castle Be’uccdha escorting Lae, he had been warned to keep surprise from his features when he first visited Barrion. Somehow he had managed to, but the sight of the hulking Verdan lord with no arms or legs was so deep a shock that Pagan recoiled from the memory still.

  He had quickly used his Guardian power to heal the last of Barrion’s infection, only wishing he had been in attendance when his friend had first reached Be’uccdha, fleeing torture at the hands of the Northmen at Fortress Sh’hale. As it was, the Be’uccdha physician had saved Barrion’s life by severing his shredded and poisoned limbs. The deformity appalled Pagan, even as he admired his friend’s courage and determination to return to his people.

  Lae had been gracious to Barrion, inviting him to her investiture ceremony in the Altar Caves which was attended by the pitiful few hundred still alive at Be’uccdha. And those numbers dropped daily. With no willing supply of Cliffdwellers to collect their staple diet of oceanfood, the people of Be’uccdha had been attempting to collect food for themselves and many had been lost in the wild seas the Maelstrom produced. Yet those who had survived echoed the Be’uccdha physician’s welcome — pitiful gratitude for their lady’s return and hope for their future in her hands. Though there were few enough warriors to keep the castle running, Lae had assigned an escort to Barrion, and as soon as the earth shakes eased, they would carry the Verdan lord back to his hold.