Shadow Borne

by Angie West

  The bulk of the city's more recent occupants were refugees from places like, well, not Lerna–if anyone had survived that massacre, we had yet to find them–but certainly further south and east, places like Oxborough and the old auction hubs.

  As if she could read my mind, Claire caught up and came to a stop beside me on the cobblestone sidewalk that ran parallel to the black and silver bricks that paved the street.

  "I still can't get over how much this place has changed. It almost looks crowded now." she mused, echoing my own thoughts.

  "Yeah," a corner of my mouth quirked up, "eventually they all come to Grandview." It was true enough. Our hometown was a lot like the last frontier in Terlain. Well, not my hometown. The nymphs lived in a carefully guarded forest between here and Lerna and while I couldn't say exactly how many years our kind had occupied the lush paradise tucked away in the middle of the woods like a hidden gem, I knew it was a long time.

  At least seven generations had been born and raised on the sacred ground that was our birthright. It was one of the few places in that region where Kahn hadn't been able to tread, loot, and destroy.

  "If you want to stop off for coffee first, we've got plenty of time." Claire offered, staring at her favorite corner cafe with a look that spoke of abject longing.

  "You and your coffee." I sighed, but started across the street toward Mae's Cafe, resigned. I still didn't particularly want to see anyone but the dip in the lake had managed to work out the worst of my tension, at least physically. Mentally, I was too keyed up for comfort. Slightly less so than when I had thought Mike would be waiting for me at Claire's house.

  Maybe even standing on the front porch like I'd pictured him at least a hundred times in the last few months, ever since he'd left that note to let Claire know he and the rest of their family would soon be crossing the portal. But no, I shook my head and snapped back to reality with the jangling of bells above the door Claire and I passed through. It was better not to go there.

  The cafe was nearly empty; only four other patrons sat at the dozen or so wrought iron and glass tables placed around the diner. A man and a woman who looked to be deep in thought occupied the table at the very back. The old woman and teenage girl sitting at the table closest to the cafe's single restroom barely spared us a glance.

  The woman near the back glimpsed us over the man's shoulder and looked vaguely uncomfortable before turning her attention back to her lover. It was a telling look and one with which I was well acquainted. It said keep your distance. Most nymphs had been on the receiving end of such a not-quite-glare at one time or another.

  Claire chose a table for two in front of the wide picture window that graced the front of the cafe. It was the same spot we snagged every time we stopped in for coffee and the occasional pastry. Strands of soft white twinkle lights rimmed the windows and rested along the wide sill. Claire automatically took the seat facing the door while I slipped into the one that faced the room; Claire knew I couldn't bring myself to take the seat by the entrance–to do so would have put my back to the room and I was too well trained to throw caution to the wind in such a flagrant manner. Once, I would have taken the seat without a second thought. Another time, I reflected, murmuring a thank-you to the waitress who slid steaming mugs of spiced coffee in front of us. Another life.

  Claire wasted no time at all in tearing open a handful of sugar packets and gleefully adding them to her coffee. Three packets of liquid creamer followed the sugar.

  "Don't you want any sugar?" she asked.

  "No," I declined the blue packets she offered and blew at the steam before taking a careful sip of my own coffee.

  "You sure?" She asked, but tore open those packets too before waiting for an answer.

  "I'm sure." Behind my mug, I hid a grin. "I'm trying to get used to black coffee again since we're leaving for the coast soon."

  "Ugh," Claire moaned, "don't remind me. But you go right ahead and enjoy your plain coffee. I, on the other hand, plan to live life to it's sugary, carb laden fullest until we have to leave for Coztal."

  "Carb?" She was eating carbs now too? I eyed her but didn't press her on what exactly a carb was–knowing Claire, it was something really gross like deep fried sugar. It was probably another one of those cultural gaps, like sharks. Either way, I figured it was something I didn't want to know about. "I will stick with my plain food." I told her. "You're sure about going with us to Coztal then?"

  Claire nodded. "It's going to kill me to leave Ashley and Sienna, but I trust Bob and Marta to look after them. And my family of course would protect them with their lives, especially–Mike–" she stumbled a little over her brother's name and her eyes flashed briefly to mine before she recovered herself. "Anyway, I'm sure they'll be fine. And Mark and I have spoken to both girls about this mission and why we have to go. So." She shrugged. "I'll worry either way. But right now I can do more good in Coztal. Besides, it's only a couple of weeks right?"

  "If that." I confirmed, admiring Claire's calm sense of logic.

  She was right. We did need her on our dual exploration/recovery mission to the coastal towns, and the harsh reality remained that if the protective fences in Grandview were to fail, one extra person was unlikely to make much of a difference. Added to the fact Claire hadn't been trained in combat, it just made more sense that she would be more help on our upcoming mission than she would by staying here. Not that anyone, least of all me, would have blamed her had she chosen to remain in Grandview.

  But I was grateful she hadn't decided to do that. Claire had been acting as our strategist and rescue coordinator for months now and she was damn good at it. Plus, she was quick on her feet and didn't panic easily. Good qualities that were never wasted no matter what the situation.

  "Depending on what we find," I told her "and what sort of shape the coast is in, we might not be staying all that long."

  "You mean if there's nobody left to rescue." she sighed, and it didn't escape my notice the way her unpolished fingers tightened around her empty mug. I drained my own cup in the next instant and scooted my chair away from the table.

  "Yes. I would like to be more optimistic, but..."

  Claire tossed a couple of small gold coins onto the glass table top and double looped her purse strap around her wrist as we filed out the door and into the star strewn night.

  All around us, people milled about the square, talking and laughing, maybe clinging desperately to the hope that the world wasn't coming to an end in a rapid-fire succession of violence. I glanced beyond them to the far distance where the woods bordered the northern-most edge of the town, where the protective fences shimmered in the dark with their unique brand of magic. Beyond that shimmering border it looked black and silent from here and for a chilling moment it was all too easy to believe the end of the world lay in wait, close enough to pounce. "Yeah."

  Claire sighed as we made our way across the wide avenue and down the road to the place where she had left her car. "It's been a long time since their fences failed."

  "Well, there is that, too. But it wouldn't have made much difference either way. If we were getting to them any faster."

  "Hell," Claire muttered, jamming a long silver key into the lock on the car door and clicking a button to release the lock on my side. "Would it even have been possible for news of their plight to reach Grandview any sooner than it did?"

  "Not really, no." I answered honestly. "Coztal and the surrounding ocean-side communities are far enough away that it takes a while for news to reach out this way. Even then, the residents there were pretty much screwed the moment the zone failure occurred and let the Coatyl in." A break in the clouds overhead spilled slivers of moonlight into the convertible.

  Claire's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel at the mention of the Coatyl. I toed my boots off and twisted around until I was leaning back in the passenger seat with my legs crossed at the ankle and resting against the dash.

  "I'm sorry, but in my mind those damn things will forev
er be linked with vampires."

  I turned by head in time to catch the shudder that went through her. Honey colored hair swished against her shoulders and back when she shook her head.

  "Vampires?" I frowned for a second before remembering some of the old legends Claire had shared with me. "Oh. Right."

  "I know they don't really look like vampires, or what vampires would look like if they were real, I mean, but still–that chalky white skin and those teeth and nails." She broke off and absently rubbed at her right shoulder.

  "Does it still pain you?"

  "Huh?" Her eyes cut over to mine before going to her shoulder. She let her hand drop and quickly refocused her attention on the road ahead, as if she hadn't been aware of touching the old injury. "Sometimes." She finally shrugged. "It's not too bad. I get a little sore now and then but truthfully I hardly notice it anymore."

  "It's healed up nicely." I agreed. "By this time next year you won't even know anything happened."

  "Except for the scar." she snorted. “I think I would have rather had the T-shirt.”

  "It's not so bad." I assured her. That was the truth. Even now, the four jagged claw marks on her right shoulder were significantly faded. The marking had lost its red, puffy vividness weeks ago.

  "Maybe. Mark says that before long it'll just be thin silvery lines that will hardly be visible at all."

  "He's right."

  At that Claire gave a short laugh. "Would you listen to me...carrying on about a few scars. Forgive me?" She flashed a quick grin in my direction and steered the car around a curve.

  We had just turned off onto the rambling mile-long drive that would take us straight to Bob and Marta's–and now Claire and Mark's–home and tension suddenly knotted my shoulder blades, even though I wasn't in any danger of running into Mike tonight.

  "Hmm." I shifted in the seat and idly twisted a section of ink colored hair through my fingers, held it up to the moonlight, and made an effort to relax and breathe normally as we approached the house. "Tell you what, Claire–I'll put up with your scars if you'll put up with mine."

  "It's a deal." A light breeze kicked the hair back from her shoulders and she laughed as we coasted to a stop in front of the towering white structure.

  To call it a house was probably a flagrant understatement. My people didn't even typically live in houses. At least, not your average square shaped structure with four walls and a roof, so I'm sure the white elephant of a house in front of us looked even bigger to me than it would to other people.

  Hell, on more than one occasion Claire had even confessed to being a little overwhelmed by the sheer size of her new home and I knew she had grown up in a house that nobody would have ever called small, in some city called Edmond.

  I'd grown up in the heart of the forest, mostly under the protection of the dome, like all the other nymphs. I hadn't lived there for over a year now; instead I'd opted for my own small cabin at the edge of the woods.

  It wasn't in the protected zone, which I didn't like, but it was perfect for me and a stone's throw away from the Grandview safe zone. Literally, it was two feet from the sparkly fence that guarded the city. In an emergency I could probably take a flying leap out my living room window and land right on the fence, and possibly even over it on the town's soil.

  It was a great little cottage, though it was certainly nothing like Claire's digs, I conceded, unfolding my long legs from the dash and climbing gracefully out of the convertible. Claire vaulted easily over the door and then leaned back in to retrieve her purse and the prized seashells and rock it contained. Every lamp was burning within the mansion. Light seemed to fill every inch of space to spill out the windows in bright yellow patches on the manicured lawn.

  Between the house lights and the bright silver and gold moon that had decided to come back out and grace us with its presence, even the landscaped rolling hills behind the house and the six car garage seemed lit up and on display. As usual, Marta's porch lights bordered on blinding.

  I nudged the convertible's door closed with my hip and beamed at Claire. "Have you ever been tempted to take a rock to one of those porch lights?"

  "You mean the flood lights?" She laughed. "I've fantasized about it, sure, but if I did it Marta would freak out thinking vandals had been here and with my luck she would put in even brighter bulbs."

  "They make brighter bulbs than this?" I eyed the porch skeptically.

  "I don't know, but I bet–Mark!" she suddenly shrieked.

  "Mark?" I uttered. With a growing sense of dread, my eyes followed Claire as she broke into a sprint across the short expanse of lawn that lay between us and the house, up the wide, white washed front porch steps to launch herself at her husband.

  His arms closed around her and in the next instant he lowered his mouth to hers in an intimate show of affection that had me awkwardly looking the other way.

  A movement caught the corner of my eye and I swiveled back to the porch. The light shifted behind the statuesque bulk that was Mark cradling Claire in the middle of the front door frame. Behind the pair, a man cleared his throat and said excuse me. That voice...

  He hadn't spoken more than two words and yet I knew that voice. For a brief moment I gave serious consideration to spinning on my booted heel and walking back down the lane in the direction in which I had come. The only thing stopping me was the fact that I would be damned if he–if anyone–would make me run. I would not disgrace myself by running scared like a skittish rabbit. With an inward sigh, I forced myself to push away from the side of Claire's navy blue convertible, put one foot in front of the other, and walk calmly up the porch steps.

  My boots thumped solidly against the smooth white planks beneath my feet and I concentrated on the sound. It seemed to pulse in tandem with my heart, a steady thump thump thump. Mark and Claire disentangled themselves from one another and Claire peered over his shoulder before uttering a hoarse cry and reaching for the figure behind them. I caught a glimpse of chocolate toned hair and forced myself to take a deep breath.

  Mark grimaced and plowed a hand through his light brown hair. His pale green eyes flashed sympathy, and then he stepped aside.

  Mike. I drank in the sight of him and in spite of all the mental preparation, despite the advance warning, being in his presence felt a lot like being slapped.

  I sucked in a breath as he straightened and released his sister. Claire turned around and worried her bottom lip between her teeth, alternating her gaze from me to her brother and back again.

  "Aries, I'm sorry. I had no idea–"

  "They decided they were up to making the trip after all. We got in about an hour ago. Your parents and your sister are asleep already. They haven't even met the girls yet." Mark made the hasty explanation to his wife.

  Mike's eyes never left mine. He inhaled deeply, took two steps forward and the next thing I knew he had yanked me off my feet and practically plastered me to his chest. It took everything I had not to scream. As it was, I twisted and shoved and maneuvered until I managed to create the inch or so of space between our bodies that I needed in order to get out of his grasp.

  I flattened my palms against his chest with every intention of shoving him away from me. Actually, I didn't really need to free my hands in order to make him move away from me, but Claire was already standing beside us looking dismayed enough without watching me knee her brother in the groin.

  So I settled for using my hands to shove him away. And I started to, only to find that when I exerted light pressure against him, nothing happened. He didn't take the hint and move away from me, as expected. And why the hell should he, I scowled, it would have been the polite thing to do and when the hell had Mike Roberts ever been polite?

  My head snapped up then and my eyes flashed up at him. He must have misunderstood my intention because he was gazing down at me, and very pointedly at the space where my palms rested on the space just below his shoulders, his expression filled with such longing that for a split second I froze. Worse, in t
hat instant I forgot I needed to put distance between us, that it was safer not to touch him. My wide-eyed stare mingled with his and I memorized the tiny flecks of gold in his green eyes.

  The fabric of his T-shirt warmed beneath my fingertips and absently I noticed that it was soft and white and stretchy. My hands seemed to develop a mind of their own and flexed against his body, at the solid warmth hidden beneath the cloth. He hugged me even closer.

  Every stupid youthful hope-filled dream I'd ever had was wrapped up in that hooded gaze. His lips curved into a smile and, as if in slow motion, he shifted so that he was holding me with one arm around my shoulders and the other around my waist. I gripped handfuls of his shirt as he lowered his lips to mine. Blood pulsed through my veins at warp speed and I heard a rushing sound in my ears and then he was kissing me like we had never been apart. No, my mind dimly registered, not like there had been no absence, this was more like homecoming. His mouth was hard and urgent, his tongue darted against my closed lips and it truly was like a dream come true–a nightmare. Because every girlish fantasy that I'd entertained as a child, and later every dream I'd shared with him, had turned out to be wrong, wrong, wrong.

  I went absolutely stiff and still in his embrace. What did it matter if he was warm and smelled good? He'd left me over a year and a half ago. He hadn't cared enough to stay then and he didn't care now, I harshly reminded myself. Even now, nothing had changed. He wasn't here out of any sense of loyalty to me, not because he'd promised to come back for me.

  He was here out of necessity, to save his own skin. He'd been forced to make the journey back to Terlain because hit men were trying to pick off him and his family and he had finally run out of places to hide. Mike Roberts looked out for his own interests and to hell with anyone who got trampled along the way.