by Angie West
So I stood there in my combat boots and lace underwear and focused on one breath in, one breath out until the bleeding stopped and it was safe to go on. "Not during the attack. I showed up...after. Tara and Juliette and I were part of a rescue team that went in the next day, at first light. It was the soonest anybody could–" I sucked in another lungful of air.
"The only thing we recovered that day were bodies." I bit out, refusing to feel guilty when Mike flinched at the brash talk. Lately, some of the other nymphs, and Juliette in particular, seemed to be constantly chastising me for using what Juliette dubbed my angry voice.
I knew my tone was bitter right then but didn't give a damn. Rage beat the hell out of despair any day of the week. Rage didn't paralyze you in its tenacious grip, it didn't turn you into a victim so as far as I was concerned, it was just fine with me.
I thought back to that nightmarish day and welcomed the anger that rushed clean and bright through my veins, bringing with it a hot tide of warmth that energized me and shook loose the last remnants of a fear I'd sooner die than confess.
"God, Aries I'm so sorry. I wish..."
That it hadn't happened? That you'd been here? Yeah, so did I. Once. The words flitted through my mind but I didn't dare speak them out loud. Instead, I shrugged and rocked back on the heels of my boots.
"It is what it is. So...that's how I know the residents of Lerna hardly had time to panic. People lay in the streets, slumped over their kitchen tables, on their sofas, most of them were just sort of frozen in whatever it was they had been doing before the attack. Like they'd heard a loud noise and then the front door had crashed open and those–things–were upon them before they really had time to react. At least that's our theory. We could be wrong, of course, since there aren't any eye witnesses to contradict us, but only a handful of people showed defensive wounds on their hands." I shook my head and kicked at a few leaves that skittered along the ground between us. "By nightfall, we had evacuated maybe a third of the town when we realized we weren't alone."
Mike took another small step closer. "What was it?"
"Retrievers. They were hidden throughout the town, especially in the residential sections. More bodies." I added, when Mike raised a brow. "They had been hiding, watching us, and when the sun set they filled the streets and attacked. Several search and rescue were killed. There wasn't much to do but run, at that point."
"Your family? Were they..."
"No." I answered. "None of the nymphs were harmed that day. We're faster than the dogs." My chin came up a notch.
"The warriors who met us today said Lerna is secured now. The beasts don't try to come back?" Mike wanted to know.
"Retrievers? No." I tossed a section of black hair over my shoulder. "Once the food supply was exhausted there wasn't any reason for them to stay and they haven't been back. The main problem now is the Coatyl. They keep trying to get into the abandoned houses. But we're holding our own. So far." I shrugged.
"What are Coatyl?" Mike frowned and leaned in close.
"Things to stay away from." I retorted.
Over the past several minutes Mike had been invading my personal space by small degrees and I just now noticed how close he was standing.
"Okay."
I watched his chest rise and fall with each breath he took and knew it was past time for me to put an end to the night and walk away. I didn't at all like the way he was suddenly staring at me. His eyes didn't waver from my own and I felt off balance, too warm.
"Goodnight." I said abruptly, spun around, and began the long trek down the driveway, only to be pulled to a halt a second later.
"No." Mike's face was harsh in the moonlight. "Don't run away from me. Please. I need to tell you, to explain, why I had to leave. Then, if you still want to leave, you can. Okay?" His expression softened infinitesimally when I tried to jerk my arm out of his grasp but his fingers didn't loosen. I felt my temper start to rise.
"I know why you had to leave. Claire explained that a long time ago. The only thing you could possibly have to say now is why you stayed away. But I guess I already know the answer to that question, too.” I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my tone. “Let go of my arm. Now."
Mike shook his head. "I'm sorry but no, I can't do that."
"You had damn well better do that." It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to stay calm and refrain from screaming at him, the stubborn jackass. "I am seriously beginning to wonder what the fuck I ever saw in you." I snapped, forcing myself to save what dignity I had left and not engage in a useless struggle, but I took some satisfaction in the way Mike's eyes grew wide, the way his nostrils flared with his sharp intake of breath at my new-found curse words.
"Well, that wasn't very nice." he finally murmured and damn him he looked like he was trying not to laugh! His mocking, bemused expression effectively snapped the last threads of my control.
Quick as a striking snake, I twisted down and to the side, and in a matter of seconds the knife that had been sheathed and strapped to my thigh was in the hand that Mike wasn't holding–and it was pressed to his throat.
"Let. Go. Of. Me. Now." I thrust my face close to his and glared at him.
Something flared in his eyes and his fingers tightened around my arm for an instant before,abruptly, he let me go.
His dark gaze was shuttered, wary as he backed up a few steps and regarded me in silence.
"That's right. Things have changed." I've changed. "Don't grab me unless you want me to defend myself."
"Would you have really cut me?"
"Yes." I said automatically, although I wasn't at all certain what I would have done. Was it stupid and dangerous to draw on a man when you couldn't follow through? Sure. But this was Mike. And the truth was, I probably wouldn't have cut him, not that I had any intention of telling him that. Let him think I'd stab him the next time he was fool enough to grab me. It was good for him.
"Okay." He held up both hands. "I don't want you to go. But I won't touch you. Alright? Will you stay a while longer? Stay and talk to me. There's so much I want to say to you."
"I don't know that you have anything to say that I'm interested in hearing. And I have to go. I've been on patrol all day and I'm tired."
"Fine. Then I'll see you in the morning." He made the words into a challenge.
"No."
"See? You are running from me."
"I am not running from you. You aren't that intimidating." I snorted. "I'm busy tomorrow morning." I lied.
"That's interesting. Didn't you say you would be by to see Claire in the morning?"
Damn. I had said that, hadn't I? And I did need to see Claire tomorrow, and Mark as well. We needed to plan the upcoming search and rescue of the coast.
“Look, Claire's husband," he paused and smiled faintly, "that's going to take some getting used to," he muttered. "That my sister is married now. Anyway, Mark told me how close you are to Claire and the kids. He said you're as close as sisters and you practically live here. Don't change on my account. I get that you aren't keen on spending time with me. I think I even understand why. But don't disappear because of me. Please."
"I wasn't planning anything of the sort." I lied and re-sheathed the knife. "Tell your sister that I will see her in the morning."
Mike nodded and before he could say anything else, I turned around and left. Because I didn't want to turn my back on him, though I couldn't say exactly why, I disappeared into the tree line we had been standing next to rather than use the driveway.
One way wasn't necessarily any shorter than the other, although if I'd wanted to fly the distance between Claire and Mark's place and my cabin, the trip would have at least been faster. But I didn't want to fly. Odd as it may sound, I needed the slower pace of walking, the repetitive action of putting one foot in front of the other to give me something to do. I had nervous energy to burn and knew from experience that when I got home I wouldn't sleep, despite the fact that my body desperately needed rest.
&n
bsp; No, I would toss and turn and eventually pace the width of my bedroom and replay the night's events ad nauseum. Mike was back. I deftly skirted the gnarled, exposed root of a large brown and gold tree and sighed. It was easy enough to understand why he'd returned, but there was no denying things would have been so much simpler if he had stayed away. Worse, I had the distinct feeling our situation would only become more impossible before this was all over.
Chapter Four
Abomination
The cabin was pitch dark, one of the downfalls of not having electricity. You couldn't exactly leave an oil lamp burning to greet you when you came home at night. Usually, it didn't bother me. I've never been afraid of the dark. But tonight the shadows seemed to press in from all sides, even here in the protected zone where I stood.
It was like unseen eyes tracked me in the dark, I felt hunted and harassed. Damn Mike to the farthest reaches of hell. The churned up, mixed up feelings I struggled with tonight were all his fault. Now it was making me paranoid, too, since there sure wasn't anything out and about. Still, I hesitated in front of the low, rough wood country style fence that marked Grandview's border, taking slow calming breaths in an effort to settle myself.
It wasn't even all that dark, at least not in my immediate vicinity. Thousands of tiny golden droplets clung to and surrounded each rounded plank of the low fence. They were lit up like spun gold and glimmered brightly in the dark. Claire's kids thought it looked a lot like pixie dust. The memory of little Ashley and Sienna asking Tara if she and Tinkerbell–their nickname for Juliette–had scattered it all along the fence lines was enough to wring a smile from me, tense as I was at the moment.
My fingers trailed through the sparkles that danced and swayed lazily on and around the wood. It wasn't getting any lighter outside and I badly needed some sleep, at least a few hours' worth.
If I didn't get any rest, I wouldn't be much good to anyone and it was this thought that spurred me to action. Swinging one leg up and over the top rail, easy enough since it was only hip high, I vaulted over the fence and into the unprotected side of woods. The fact that in my mind it had become the unprotected side of the forest spoke volumes. Not 'home', not even 'the border' but simply 'unprotected' was the first word that came to mind tonight when I thought of my home.
I frowned up at the simple white clapboard ranch style cabin in front of me. Never had I felt unsafe here before. I'd lived here without incidence for over eight months and it was close enough to the border that I honestly never gave much thought to safety.
Besides, as homes went, it was a pretty bare bones space. I was the proud owner of a half decent bedroom set, a small table and chairs that Aranu had carved for me when I'd moved in, one ugly couch and two wing-back chairs. Other than the clothes in the single tiny closet and dresser, there were maybe a handful of personal possessions scattered around the place, some dog-eared paperbacks, and enough food to fend off starvation for a day or two.
I've never had to worry about thieves ransacking the place, that's for sure. Like its out of the way location, the cabin's lack of amenities wasn't normally an issue, either. There was a stream about a quarter mile to the east and really, I wasn't home all that often, anyway. When I wasn't working patrol or training with the soldiers, I was with Claire and the girls.
Right now, though, it seemed like all bets were off; I was nervous. A quick look around showed what I'd already known before hopping the fence–there was no one around. No menacing forces lurked about and if the shadows seemed a little thicker, a little heavier tonight, well it was probably just the clouds overhead that kept racing across the moon to blot out the light. Shivering a little as I walked up the little stone path and let myself into the house, I admitted that maybe it was time to have electricity run to the cabin.
It wasn't a bad idea, really, especially now that, thanks to Mike's return, I'd be spending a little less time up at the big house and more time at home. The lock clicked into place behind me and I headed to the counter of the cabin's tiny kitchen and made quick work of lighting a few candles on a tray before I unlaced my boots, kicked them off, and nudged them under the table before wandering down the hall to the single bedroom. Yes, I decided, standing in the large box-like room, I would go into town first thing and hire an electrician to update the cabin. In fact, it would be my first stop.
And maybe it wasn't fair to blame Mike for that one, I sighed, sinking onto the double bed that lay against the far wall, beneath the larger of the room's two modest sized windows. Updating the cabin was something I'd been planning on getting around to for a while and it might as well be now. Maybe I'd even head to the fabric store before heading to Claire's.
Laying back against my single folded-in-half pillow, I turned my head a little and let my eyes wander and do a slow study of the bedroom, trying to view the space objectively. It wasn't a bad room. It was quite large, especially considering the rest of the house could only be described as cozy.
The dark knotty pine double bed, dresser, and matching nightstand were beautifully crafted and I'd purchased the gray sheets, silver and gray comforter and silver pillow case new six months ago, along with the dark brown and silver rug that occupied most of the floor. It was plush and hadn't cost all that much but kept me from eating and drinking in the bedroom, something I used to do frequently.
The rug was not only large but it had a thick non-skid type backing and I was terrified of spilling things on the fabric; no doubt it would be an absolute bitch to wash and dry. But it was perfect for the wood floor it graced and it kept me from freezing my feet during the cooler season. The cold weather was right around the corner, I reflected idly, rolling half over and tugging at the comforter until I'd freed enough to wrap around myself.
The temperature was dropping rapidly in the overnight hours now and what had been tolerable earlier in the evening when Claire and I had been swimming in the lake now bordered on uncomfortable. It wouldn't get much worse than this, though, and that was something. I wasn't all that fond of cold temperatures. None of the nymphs were, with the exception of Juliette but then, Juliette basically liked everything. She was pretty much the opposite of me, although we had grown up together and were the same age; Juliette could almost always find an upside to anything. And I...well I wasn't ever like that, not really, not even before my life was turned upside down, shaken, and stirred.
Other than when dumb bitch Aries reared her naïve head, I hardly ever recalled what I'd been like before the abduction and later the war. Softer, definitely, and trusting. Cripes had I been a trusting soul. But it was all done now, I shrugged and snuggled deeper into my cocoon of covers. Life had a funny way of twisting and turning, weaving paths you'd never in a million years envisioned yourself treading. Sometimes the changes were slower, less noticeable, like a rock being gently worn away by the stream. Other times, like the past couple of years around here, it was more like an ambush. So many changes...I had been taken and the war had begun, was still going on; I even had a full repertoire of curse words now, thanks to Claire.
Claire. I owed her big time. For my freedom and for friendship, my new vocabulary and...lacy underwear. Lots and lots of lacy underwear, I grimaced. Well, I probably wouldn't thank her for that particular gift anytime soon. The bras were mostly okay, but I still couldn't figure out what I was supposed to do with some of the panties, although Claire insisted they were supposed to go up there.
Yeah. Right. I snickered. Not happening. But I knew I wouldn't throw them away; to do so would hurt Claire's feelings and she had the habit of rifling through my drawers and closet whenever she came over. My fingers tightened around the top sheet and comforter and I rolled onto my stomach, still wrapped up, to stare out the window with my chin propped against my folded hands.
Every now and again the moon would peek through the thick layers of gloom and the clouds would become wispy enough to let a little bit of light through. Lying in the cool, quiet dark took me back to happier times. Well, not exactly the cold, b
ut the silent, moonlit night...oh yeah. I curled my hands under my chin and let my head rest so that I was staring idly at the striped pattern painted on the sheets by the light filtering in through the slatted blinds on the window. I began to drift into a peaceful solitude as I recalled my years as a young girl, deep in the forest with my mother and a plethora of cousins and aunts and uncles.
Life had been so sweet and sheltered, there under the protective dome. My mother and I had lived with her oldest sister, my aunt Ingenia, in a little house that wasn't so very different from this one and I used to lie in my room just like this and watch the moonlight throw patterns onto my bed through the flowered curtains Mama had made for me when I'd turned thirteen.
Thinking of my mother was usually enough to drag me into the light when I was feeling unsettled, even though Ilsa had been gone from this world long before I'd become a grown woman. She died quietly in her sleep two weeks before my sixteenth birthday.
Aunt Ingenia and I hadn't even known that she was sick, or rather, if she had been sick. For years it had bothered me to not know exactly why my mother had passed away. And as if I hadn't been heart broken enough, over that next year I'd also become paranoid. If someone like Mama, whom everyone agreed had seemed as hearty and whole as the next woman, could be taken like that, in the blink of an eye with no warning, who was to say I wouldn't be next? Or aunt Ingenia? Maybe even Juliette or Tara or any of the others?
Some days I'd even wished it had been me instead, because it didn't seem fair that Mama should lose first her husband then her home and finally her life. In my sixteen year old mind she'd never had a chance to fully recover from the blows life dealt her; never got the chance to live out her happily ever after and if anyone had been deserving of a happy ending, it was my mother.
Never mind that I couldn't recall her ever seeming unhappy in the years leading up to her death. That understanding would come years later, when I learned that fairy tales were complete bullshit and there are worse ways to go than in your own bed, warm and safe and blissfully asleep.
