Shadow Borne

by Angie West

  "I take it you heard about the Coatyl?"

  "That it broke in and almost killed you?" She nodded. "Mark told me a couple hours ago, after Aranu and the others began showing up. Are you okay?" she demanded, still checking me over.

  "I'm fine. I had it pinned to the wall before it ever got close enough to do any real harm." That was true enough, I figured, if not technically all there was to that part of the story. "They told you it spoke to me?"

  Claire nodded and glanced furtively around us before pulling me into a relatively private corner of the covered porch. "Aries, what the hell is going on around here?"

  "We're at war." I sighed. "I guess this was the next logical step in our parade of ill luck."

  "I know that; but Coatyl do not talk. They aren't capable of advanced speech and complex thought processes."

  "They do now. They are now." I shook my head ruefully. "Khan and the Lahuel altered them...somehow. This changes things, Claire. And obviously not for the better."

  "I figured Kahn was the mastermind behind this disaster. It's retaliation for us taking Lydia and the guards out of commission, isn't it?"

  "For blowing Lydia and three quarters of Kahn's army sky high?" I smirked. "Yes, it seems that would be the reason he's bent on destroying us. Not that he wasn't planning on killing every last one of us anyway, those he didn't plan on enslaving, that is, but now I get the feeling he'd like for it to be especially painful. Still," the smirk faded, "I never thought he would do something like this."

  "You didn't think he would stoop so low?" Claire was incredulous.

  "I didn't think he was capable of stooping so low." I corrected.

  "True." She wrapped her arms around her waist and gazed across the yard at some vague, far off point in the distance. "Hey," she said abruptly, turning to face me. "A minute ago you said Kahn and the Lahuel. Why do you think the Lahuel had anything to do with this?" Claire shivered. I knew for a fact that she found the Lahuel every bit as disturbing as I did, probably more so, considering she had actually been up close and personal with the shadow demon.

  "We don't have confirmation on that intel just yet." Mark interrupted smoothly, striding to his wife's side and taking her hand. I raised a brow, a little surprised to hear Mark try to placate Claire with a reassuring lie. The Warrior of the Ruins tended to be very...protective, where his bride was concerned, but I had never known him to try and ply her complete falsehoods, until now, that is.

  Claire gazed into her husband's eyes for a long beat before her shrewd gaze swung back to me. "Aries? What's going on?"

  "I just said–" Mark tried again, looking hunted.

  "I take it you haven't told her?" I raised a brow and folded my arms across my chest. Mark didn't try to say anything more, but the resigned look in his eyes clearly said he wasn't thrilled with my interference. "We know the Lahuel is involved because I heard it straight from the Coatyl's mouth."

  "And?" Claire pressed, reaching out with one hand to grip the smooth white porch rail.

  "It had been sent by the Lahuel. With orders to kill me and leave a message in my blood, something to the tune of 'Claire, you're next'."

  Claire recoiled before turning on her husband. "You didn't think that was something I should know?" she demanded.

  "This morning Claire decided that instead of going with us to the coast, it would be best if she stayed home with Ashley and Sienna." Mark glowered at me, but behind the scowl there was a definite hint of desperation in his jewel green eyes.

  He doesn't want her to go–no, he's terrified at the very thought. The realization really shouldn't have come as such a shock; Mark had loved Claire almost from day one. She was it for him. She was also the mother of their children and it made this situation...complicated, for both of them.

  There wasn't enough money in the world that would make me want to be in Claire's shoes right now, forced to walk a balancing act on the tightrope of motherhood versus country. And this was her country now. To go through such enormous life changes with all the delicacy of a boat being tossed onto the shore by a wicked sea...no, I definitely wouldn't want to be in Claire's shoes. Not that mine were all that cozy lately...

  "Well, now I don't know what I'm going to do." Claire was saying. "This changes everything."

  "But your sister is due to give birth any day now." Mark argued. "What if there are complications?"

  Claire glared at her husband. "You are so not helping right now, Mark."

  "Fine." The lines around his mouth deepened and he put his back to us in order to pick up a loudspeaker from the patio table. "We can talk later. I've got a meeting to see to."

  An instant before I heard the footsteps, Claire's eyes widened at a point behind me. The faint hint of cologne told me who was walking across the porch even before I turned around, not that Claire's wary expression wouldn't have been a dead giveaway. The best thing, the mature thing, was to turn around and face him like an adult.

  "That's Mike behind me, isn't it?" I asked Claire, crossing my arms even tighter over my chest in a way that would have done Ashley and Sienna proud.

  "Yes. Sorry." she apologized. "That reminds me, how was your little chat last night?"

  "Oh," I shrugged, deliberately vague. "You know."

  "When Mike came back without you and went straight to bed, I figured it hadn't gone well."

  Mike stopped a good six feet away from us and asked. "Is she armed?"

  "Who?" Claire and I asked in unison.

  "Aries."

  I did face him then. "Yes, I'm armed."

  "Then I'd just as soon stay over here." He gestured to the end of the porch where he stood. "Where it's safe." he added.

  "Mike," Claire frowned, "what's with you? Everyone here this morning is armed."

  Mike raised a brow but otherwise remained silent. If he was waiting for me to announce that I'd threatened to stab him last night, then I could have told him not to hold his breath, because I had no intention of sharing my personal business with everyone on the porch.

  Beside me, Claire opened her mouth only to close it a second later without saying a word; I followed her gaze to the tall blonde man making his way through the crowd gathered on the lawn in front of the house. Carl.

  "Come on." she said, at once abrupt. "It's getting a little too crowded around here." she muttered, stomping into the house.

  "Shouldn't we stick around for the speech?"

  Mark did a quick sound check on the hand-held loudspeaker and I hesitated before following Claire into the cool privacy of the house.

  "I already know what he's going to say. The Coatyl have gone mad and we're leaving for the coast in two days now instead of two weeks.”

  "We are? So, you've decided to go?"

  "No. Yes. Hell, I don't know." she grumbled, taking three slow, measured deep breaths and heading across two parlors and past a powder room before leading the way down the corridor that led to the extra large, ultra sunny kitchen. "I can't believe Mark kept all this from me."

  "He seems very worried." I said, grabbing a chocolate chip cookie off a brass tray that someone, probably Marta, had placed in the center of the small table in the breakfast nook area of the kitchen.

  "Yeah." Claire snorted. "I got that. Does he think that I'm not worried? How does he expect me to deal with all of this, to make informed decisions, if he purposely withholds the facts? Answer me that." she challenged, working up to a pretty good rant. "Between him and Carl, I'm getting damn sick and tired of men lately."

  Lately? Mark, and Carl for that matter, had only been home for twelve hours. I covered a smile by biting into the cookie. "What did Carl do this morning?" I asked once I'd chewed and swallowed and regained most of my composure.

  "Nothing that I know of. Yet." Claire sighed. "This is the first time I've seen him since last night. But Carl doesn't have to do anything except breathe and he's on my bad side. I don't trust him."

  "Normally, I would agree with you there, but he seems okay to me. Other than the w
hole used to be a hit man, tried to kill you thing." I smiled and poured two cups of coffee, handing one blue swirled mug across the table to her before raising my own mug to my lips.

  "You actually trust him?"

  "Not really." I confessed. "But I get the feeling he was telling the truth last night. I don't think he's a threat."

  "He seems to like Megan." Her scowl deepened and she bit savagely into her cookie.

  "I noticed."

  "I don't like it one damn bit."

  "I noticed that too."

  "And she actually let's him into her room."

  I wasn't surprised to hear it; by all accounts Megan Roberts was vulnerable and scared right now. Her husband had run off and Carl had rescued her not once but twice and so to my way of thinking it would have been abnormal if she hadn't fallen for him just a little bit. Not that it wasn't weird;

  Carl's previous occupation was enough to make even the most unsuspecting person wary, and Claire possessed a more cautious nature than most. So, I couldn't tell her I was pretty sure Carl genuinely cared for Megan, even though I was almost one hundred percent positive that he did.

  It was true I'd known him for less than one day–and I'd only seen him a couple of times, at that, but something about him felt genuine, real–honest. Whether or not he would turn out to be good for Megan was an entirely different matter and one which remained to be seen. Nymphs were a little more tuned in than the average person to the emotions of others and the former hit man hadn't set off any of my usual internal warning bells. But, rather than spout reassurances that would probably, to Claire at least, feel empty, I drained the last of my black coffee and said. "It'll be okay. Let's not borrow trouble."

  "Yeah." she sighed. "You're right on the money there. We've got enough right now as it is, don't we?"

  I shrugged. "It looks that way."

  "So," Claire drained her own mug and crossed the kitchen to set the dish in the wide chrome double sink and flip the light switch off before we headed out of the room. "You talked with Mike?"

  "Not really. He wanted to know what had happened around here and I filled him in on a few details that Mark and the others hadn't already told him." And then he grabbed me and I pulled a knife on him. Yeah. I decided to keep that little detail to myself for the time being.

  "Is that all he wanted to know?"

  "No."

  “You're not going to talk about it, are you?"

  I shook my head and my lips curved into the barest hint of a smile. "Not yet. Sorry."

  "It's okay. So, are you ready to meet Megan? The last time I checked, she was awake and I'm pretty sure I hear Marta and the girls up there." She tilted her head to the side and gestured to the floor above.

  "Sure. I've been eager to meet her."

  "Good but, ah, you should know she's not at her best right now. She's very round, and Mike was right, she cries a lot. Her eyes are red so even when you don't see her cry you know she's either just finished sobbing or about to do it again." Claire frowned as we climbed the wide curving staircase to the second floor. "I could kick her husband. Of course, I'd have to find him first."

  I nodded sympathetically. "Some husband."

  Claire climbed the last dark wood tread and strode down the hall without bothering to flip the light switch. I followed and the sound of voices grew louder as we neared the end of the hall. She knocked briefly on the second to last door, turned the knob and pushed it open without waiting for an answer. The room was packed.

  Marta, the longtime housekeeper who had also stood in as a mother figure for Mark, was busy folding a basket full of lemon yellow sheets and stuffing them into a tall, ornately carved dresser in the corner, next to the room's single extra-large window.

  Ashley and Sienna were laying in the center of the room, on a wide braided rug; they appeared to be engaged in a deep discussion over the large picture the two were busy coloring. A dignified older couple occupied a pair of uncomfortable looking wing-back chairs near the hearth. A cheery fire blazed in the stone depths and a set of white sheer curtains fluttered lightly in the early morning breeze that poured into the room from the open window, keeping the room pleasantly cozy rather than stifling.

  A woman with shiny, white blond hair and luminous green eyes sat in the middle of the full size bed that occupied the corner of the room opposite the fireplace. The rumpled bed was situated flush with the wall and close enough to the enormous window for the woman to lean over and watch the coming and going of the people in the yard, if she had so chosen. But it didn't look like she cared one way or the other about the mass gathered below.

  Claire's sister–and this was obviously Megan Roberts–didn't look very interested in much of anything. Her eyes were rimmed with the vivid red of grief and behind the sheen of tears, the glassy orbs were flat and empty. Claire strode to the center of the room and cleared her throat, but it was Marta who was the first to break the silence.

  "Hello, Aries." The older woman's eyes gleamed. "I see you have pants on today." She nodded approvingly and snapped the last sunshine colored sheet into the dresser.

  The man and woman in the wing-back chairs gasped and Megan Roberts started with a glance toward Mark's mother-housekeeper. A wide grin broke across my face and I threw my head back and laughed before gliding across the room and throwing my arms around Marta's sturdy shoulders.

  "Hi to you as well." I murmured, still smiling.

  "I don't suppose you've eaten breakfast?" Marta sniffed.

  "Not yet." I stepped back and bent to ruffle both girls' hair before rising to face Claire's shocked parents and sister.

  "Well, then you had better stop at the kitchen before you go back outside with the heathens."

  Claire put her hands on her hips and shook her head as Marta took the laundry basket from the top of the dresser and lured the little girls from the room with promises of cookies. "Marta is very plain spoken." Claire coughed and ducked her head to hide a smile.

  "You get used to it." I added, holding a hand out to the woman first before attempting to shake hands with Claire's father.

  "Mom, Dad, this is Aries."

  "It's wonderful to finally meet the two of you." I lied. It wasn't wonderful at all; it was nerve wracking and I wished it were already over. I felt like a bundle of raw, nervous energy when Mr. and Mrs. Roberts inclined their champagne blonde heads and regarded me in silence, completely ignoring my outstretched hand.

  I had fought side by side with both rebel factions and professional soldiers. I'd helped search out and rescue hundreds of desperate, displaced, regular people. And that's what I tried to convince myself that Claire's parents were–regular people–but they didn't seem that way at all and I was beginning to feel more than a little foolish, standing there with my hand extended to the open air, for all the attention they were paying me.

  No, that wasn't quite right, I amended, refusing to give in to the urge to cringe; they were looking at every part of me but my hand. Confused, I glanced down at myself, not seeing anything out of place, but Claire's parents–Mike's parents–pointed gazes were hard to miss. I gave myself another quick once over while Claire hurried to explain that I was a close friend 'more like family, really'.

  And I tried to see myself objectively, as if through a stranger's eyes. It took only a few moments to realize how I must look to the elder members of the Roberts family; an almost-tall young woman with smoothly toned muscles, a dusky complexion, hips and breasts that flared to a level just shy of decent...but it was my face that truly set me apart and classified my kind as different.

  I had the same classic features that readily identified me as a nymph; the large, bright, slightly slanted eyes, the thick black lashes and thin, straight brows. The same smallish nose, and lips that took after my breasts and hips–a shade too plump to be inconspicuous, to blend in. While there wasn't anything to be done about my face and form (not that I'd ever really thought there was anything wrong with it, other than the irritation of being so recognizabl
e) it probably would have been a good idea to unstrap my dagger before I'd entered the room. Mr. and Mrs. Roberts finally nodded and decided to grace me with faint smiles that, while they weren't exactly the epitome of warmth and goodwill, at least weren't mocking. That was a start. Pleading the worst case of jet lag imaginable, Claire's parents wandered down the hall toward their own room for a nap.

  "I'm sorry, Aries." Claire grimaced and turned with me to face her sister. "That was rude, I know. They're still getting used to...everything, I guess."

  "It's okay." I shrugged. "They're tired and it's one of those days."

  "One that makes you want to go back to bed?"

  "You said it." I smiled faintly. "Do they know about me? I mean that your brother and I were...close, once?"

  Claire shook her head and lowered her voice as we approached Megan's bed. "No. At least, I don't think so."

  Great. That was bound to be even more fun than this had been, I reflected with an inward sigh. A more naïve woman might have made the argument that the rest of the Roberts clan wouldn't have to know anything at all about my past relationship with Mike. But who was I kidding? Mike wouldn't give up the chase so easily and after that very public kiss on the porch last night, I felt safe in assuming he would be fairly obvious in his intentions. Idly, I wondered how Megan Roberts would react to Mike's uninvited courtship of me.

  It was hard to imagine Megan reacting to anything; at the moment, she looked pretty out of it. Claire and I stopped at the foot of the bed, perching on the edge to stare down at the quiet woman who seemed to blend in with the peach and linen bedroom. Not even the glow from the fire across the room in the hearth or the red eyes did much to make her look human. A doll, I realized with a start, she looks like a very sad, living doll. She was so small, well, except for her protruding stomach, and so vulnerable that my heart immediately went out to her.

  Claire's obviously did, too. She sank onto the mattress at the head of the bed and touched her sister's shoulder. "Megan? This is my best friend Aries. She's come to meet you."

  Megan turned her head a little to the left, away from the window she didn't care to look out of anyway, and let her eyes rest on my face. They seemed to focus then, widening; her lips parted on a startled gasp and I got the distinct impression that she was truly seeing me now.