“Jesus Christ, you two,” Kramer said as she helped Emily into a sitting position. “Will you give it a break?”
“I’ll give something a break,” Geordie muttered. He knelt down beside Emily. “So how’s our tough little girl?”
“Okay, I think,” Emily said as she scraped dirt and grass from her hair.
“Good, because there ain’t no rest for the wicked. We’ll have to move on. Ben seems to have scared the wolves away for now with his little bit of target practice. Can you still see the path?”
Emily looked around. She still seemed a little dazed and Ben, from where he stood, wondered if finding a place to rest would be the best suggestion. Emily stood and pointed a little off to their right.
“Over there,” she said. “Over that little river and towards the trees.”
“Okay.” Geordie rose and said to Tiny. “Bergens or girl?”
“Do you still trust me?” Tiny asked.
“Of course I fucking trust you,” Geordie said. “I wouldn’t have offered you this gig if I didn’t.”
“Bergens then,” Tiny said.
As the two soldiers sorted themselves out Ben touched Kramer’s arm and pulled her away. “Emily needs a break. We should find a place to rest.”
“We can’t. We move while there’s daylight and from the position of the sun there’s plenty to go.”
“Kramer...”
She stopped him with fingertips on his lips. “Don’t,” she said. “We move. And that’s an order.”
Ben sighed and puckered his lips to kiss her fingers. Kramer smiled and said, “Did you reload yet?”
“What?” Ben frowned.
“You emptied the magazine on the wolves. Have you reloaded?” Kramer had a ghost of a smile on her face.
“You know you can be so romantic.” Ben ejected the empty magazine,
“I know. But it’s the kind of romance that keeps you alive long enough to take me out to dinner.” She edged a little closer, enough that one hand could brush his hip.
“Guns and a free meal, is that all you can think about?” Ben lowered his voice and gave her the kind of smile reserved for late nights.
She leant in close, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “And shopping.”
Ben stared at her in confusion. “What?”
“I still need a dress for Chrissie’s wedding.” Kramer stepped back, breaking the mood of the moment. “I’m thinking about that as well.”
“Here?” Ben gestured around them at the moorland and dead wolves. “You’re thinking about buying a dress, here?”
“I can multi-task,” Kramer said. “I can run, shoot and think about buying a dress at the same time. What’s the problem with that?”
Ben shook his head in bewilderment. “I... I... I’m lost for words.”
“Good.” She reached out and squeezed his cheek. “That’s one less thing for me to do then, hold a conversation with you.”
She walked away. Or maybe stalked would be a better description. As Ben swapped magazines, he considered checking up on college courses for understanding women. Or maybe he should just give up on the understanding and let her wear the trousers. At least then she wouldn’t have to think about buying a dress.
Geordie and Tiny had the packs and Emily in place. The land around them seemed clear of wolves for now. Kramer gave the order to move out, and Ben dragged his weary limbs after the others. The land fell towards a shallow river. Water rushed over stones and made Ben realise how dry his throat had become. As Kramer picked her way across the river, choosing stones that stuck up through the surface, Ben drank from his bottle. His shoulders were sore. The straps of the Bergen had chafed his skin. He watched Kramer wobble as one stone shifted under her weight. She jumped the last bit to avoid getting wet. Geordie, with Emily on his back, followed next. Ben put his water bottle away and did a check for threats. Nothing on his bank. He glanced at the river. Geordie reached the halfway point and paused to adjust the balance of Emily on his back.
The long grass behind Kramer moved.
It shifted in brief bursts. Ben took a breath to shout as Kramer heard a noise behind her and turned. More wolves. Three of them, launching from cover and in one bound they were almost upon Kramer. She dived to the right. One wolf twisted as it landed and went for her. The other two leapt passed and aimed for Geordie and Emily. Ben couldn’t shoot. There was too much danger of hitting one of his companions. He ran along the bank, trying to open up an angle for a shot. He saw Tiny plunge into the water, splashing and shouting to distract the attacking animals.
Geordie squatted, drawing his sidearm as the first wolf came at him. He fired twice, but the creature’s momentum hit him and Emily and drove them back into the water. Ben’s eyes flicked to Kramer. She rolled and kicked as her wolf danced after her, snapping its long jaws at her flailing limbs.
Emily’s scream cut off as she went under the water. Geordie fought the size and weight of the dire wolf. He came up as the second one lunged for the girl. Tiny dived in. Ben saw jaws clamp on the soldier’s arm and blood blossomed into the river. Tiny and the wolf struggled. Geordie searched the river bed for his fallen gun as Ben ran back up the bank. Tiny screamed now. The wolf rolled with the fast flow of the water, pulling Tiny with it. As they surfaced, the wolf released Tiny’s arm and went for his throat.
Blam. Blam. Blam.
Ben hit the water as Kramer put three rounds into the wolf that had pinned her to the ground. The animal jumped as its back erupted, the bullets tearing through muscle and fur. Ben stumbled passed Emily, she was on all fours, coughing water up as she fought for breath. The wolf had Tiny under water, driving him hard into the stone bed. Geordie still hadn’t found his gun. Instead, he reached between the wolf’s legs and crushed its testicles. The animal came up, jaws lined with blood, and twisted towards Geordie. He punched it, and the wolf continued turning until it faced Ben so he could shove the muzzle of his assault rifle into its mouth and turn the head into a hundred fragments of bone.
The wolf slumped dead into the water. Ben heard Emily scream again and he looked for another threat until he saw what she had seen. The water lifted Tiny up from the bed. The wound in his throat a ragged tear that pumped huge gouts of blood as his heart beat in final, panicked spasms. Ben grabbed Emily as Geordie pulled Tiny up into his arms. Emily still screamed. Ben held her tight as he stumbled to the river bank. He fell, twisting so he landed on his back and protected Emily. He squeezed her into his chest, kissing her wet hair, making noises that might have been words but he had no idea what he said.
In the river, Geordie roared in anguish. Ben heard splashing and raised his head enough to see Kramer join Geordie and help carry Tiny onto the far bank. Emily still screamed into his chest, the sound muffled. He stroked her wet hair again and said, “Emily, we need to be brave. Take deep breaths, okay, deep, slow breaths.”
She quietened. Ben stared up at the sky. He heard the sounds of someone crossing the river. Kramer came into view. She didn’t have to tell him. Ben closed his eyes. Too much death. Everywhere they went. Death.
Kramer took Emily from his arms. She sat cross-legged with the girl on her lap and spoke softly to her. Emily began to cry again. Kramer met Ben’s eyes. She jerked her head and Ben got the message. He stood and made his way to the far bank. Geordie said nothing as Ben stood next to him. The water has washed the wound on Tiny’s throat clean. His face seemed almost peaceful.
“We need to cover him,” Geordie said.
Ben helped haul Tiny into the longer grass. They took ammunition and weapons from the body and Geordie kept Tiny’s ID tags. For the next hour Ben stood guard as Geordie brought stones from the river and covered Tiny. The wolves skulked around, keeping forty or fifty metres away.
Geordie walked back through the river and Ben followed him. Neither spoke as they divided what they needed of Tiny’s kit between them. Geordie worked like an automaton and Ben had no words to say. When that was done, Ben and Geordie stood guar
d with their backs turned as Kramer stripped Emily out of her wet clothes. The spares in her pack were damp as well after her dousing in the river but were in better condition than what she wore.
The wolves still circled them but for now seemed content to maintain a safe distance. Ben ate an energy bar as Kramer dressed Emily. He could see the birds again, much higher now and circling like vultures. When Kramer finished with Emily, she said, “We can’t go back.”
“Do you know how much further?” Geordie asked Emily.
“No. The path is there, that’s all I know.”
Back across the river, they paused by Tiny’s makeshift grave.
Geordie said, “His name is Dan Jarvis. He was a good lad. Wherever he is now, I hope he understands how much we liked him and respected him.”
When Geordie nodded, they knew it was time to go on. They followed the path, and the wolf pack followed them. The crows came lower to settle upon the grass around the grave.
They waited for their mistress.
Chapter Thirteen
Moira moved like the wind, energy bursting around her like exploding meteorites. From joy to anger in the space of seconds. The Pathfinder still lived, and her darling wolves now feared the party of humans as they trekked along the pathway. This isn’t how it should be. Her high at the realisation that she would be within touching distance of the most powerful woman in Britain had tempered with the emotions coming out of the wolf pack. She took solace in the fact that one of the men had died. Moira could use him to blood the twins, and when she did, she would be unstoppable.
The twins greeted her with bright smiles as she breezed into the woodland glade. Moira saw the smile the girls shared, and it made her pause. “What is it?” she asked.
Lizzie held her hands behind her back and Moira’s suspicious gaze settled on that twin.
“Well?”
“We have a present for you,” Lizzie said as she drew her hands into view.
Moira put her hand to her mouth in surprise. Lizzie held a garland of wildflowers, the stems tightly intertwined so the object held a rigid formation. She presented it to Moira, and both girls gave neat curtsies. Moira couldn’t help the feeling of love that swelled in her chest.
“Put it on,” Vicky said.
“I should let you do that,” Moira said and lowered to one knee.
Lizzie and Vicky took hold of half of the garland each and carefully positioned it on Moira’s head. Rising to her feet with regal precision, Moira held out her hands, palms up and said, “The world is here, about to be claimed by me, and I will want you to stand beside me as we take revenge on those who banished me.”
“We will,” the twins said in unison.
“Then come with me, children, and be bloodied.”
The crows guided them to the riverbank where the body lay beneath a blanket of smooth stones. Moira asked the girls to clear the face and upper body. Smooth rocks skipped and clattered as Lizzie and Vicky pushed and pulled them away. When they were done, the girls sat back and stared. The throat wound fascinated and repelled them at the same time. Ragged flaps of skin hung down to reveal fat, muscle and the stringy lengths of blood vessels. Moira knelt beside them, the garland still balanced upon her head. She placed one hand flat upon Tiny’s chest and spoke in a strange, guttural language.
Specks of light appeared around the corpse. They danced in time with some unseen tune they rose to gather around Moira’s hand. The light intensified and Moira saw the twins retreat a little as the heat and brightness drove them back. Moira spoke a single word, and the light descended into Tiny’s chest. Moira removed her hand.
The twins came close again and Vicky said, “What’s happening?”
“We need to blood you. I have brought out the powers of life and light to fill this body. His heart will beat again and when it does his blood will flow. You will drink the blood, taste his life and feel his death. When you do, you will remember your path to this life. You are the re-born souls of murdered sisters. Understand yourselves, and you will have the power to change the world.”
The body convulsed. Tiny’s eyes opened and a desperate groan of fear came out of his chest. The twins jumped back in shock as Tiny reached up towards the sky, his hand clawing for something no-one could see. His chest rose and fell. Blood, a trickle at first and then a rush of a beating heart, came out of the wound.
“Now,” Moira said, and the command in her voice made the twins obey without question.
Moira cupped her hands into the flow and lifted the prize to Vicky. The girl hesitated at the rich smell before she opened her mouth and let Moira tip the liquid onto her tongue. Vicky gagged at the taste, and in an instant Moira’s still wet hands clamped the girl’s jaws together and gave Vicky no choice but to swallow. As soon as Vicky’s mouth emptied Moira repeated the task on Lizzie who did not want to show herself up like her sister. Lizzie took the blood eagerly into her mouth and swallowed.
As the girls tasted blood, Moira turned to the re-animated body. Tiny stared at her in horror, his jaw moving as he tried to speak. A hand reached for her. She slapped it to one side and spoke again in the old language. Tiny screamed as the light flooded out of his chest. His body twisted in agony as life deserted it once more. As the final motes of energy drifted to nothing Tiny slumped to the grass. Dead again.
Moira looked at the twins. Both were pale. They held hands, knuckles white as they fought the visions that would be flooding their minds. Moira, with infinite gentleness, led them to the riverbank and settled the girls down. The wolves came close, pushing their warm bodies into the children as if they understood the need for comfort.
Moira turned to the waiting crows, pointed at Tiny’s corpse and said, “Feed.”
The birds cried in delight as they leapt and swooped onto the body and began to tear at it with razor sharp beaks. Moira watched them feed for a moment before her attention returned to the twins. She could see their eyes widen as the vision took hold. The blood that worked its way into the girls’ stomachs opened their minds and their hearts to the truth.
***
The twins struggled against the rope that bound them to the stakes. Before them stood the villagers, maybe thirty men, women and children who stared at the girls with empty eyes. Beneath their feet, the piles of kindling began to smoke. Vicky screamed as she saw the first, bright orange flame lick up out of the mass of wood. At her side, Lizzie pulled at the bindings on her wrist and felt her flesh break as the rope sliced into her skin. The smoke wound up around their bodies like a writhing serpent. It seeped into the rough clothing they wore, caught in their throats and stung their eyes. The villagers retreated as heat rushed out of the kindling. Only three remained close. All men, one of them near naked, his thin frame daubed in blue dye and his long hair tangled with animal bones. He stepped close, ignoring the smoke and heat to jab a finger at Lizzie.
His words meant nothing to her. They were simply strings of sounds that fell from his raging mouth like water from a tap. But she understood the hate in his eyes and that understanding linked to a memory that made her smile.
The man leapt back as Lizzie spat at him. She laughed, even as the flames crackled higher through the kindling and seared the flesh on her feet. Lizzie knew. She turned to her sister and said, “Vicky. Vicky. Try to remember.”
Vicky looked at her through tear stained eyes. She opened her mouth to speak and vomited blood. The liquid hissed as it fell into the flames. Vicky looked down at the stain on her clothing. The dark red blood that belonged to the child they had murdered and then tasted. When her eyes rose, memory returned, and her bloodstained smile made the villagers retreat further.
“You can’t kill us,” Lizzie shouted above the noise of the fire. “We will never die.”
The villagers looked at their shaman. He didn’t understand the language Lizzie spoke, but it was easy to blame the evil gods who lived within the twins. He grabbed a clay pot from the ground and splashed its contents onto the flames and the girls. T
he fire raged, feeding off the liquid in a rush that danced from calves to thighs to stomach. Clothing ignited, hair shrivelled. The twins screamed as the flames stripped away the upper layers of their skin. The shaman danced across their sight as tears turned to steam.
They saw the woman walk into the flames, her smile tender and loving. She took their souls into her hands and led them from the fire. The shaman danced on, unaware the twins had escaped. The villagers watched as fat ignited, twisting the corpses into blackened caricatures of humans. At the edge of the village, they stopped and looked back.
“One day,” the woman said, “you will return. I will search for you, and when I find you, I will let you have your revenge.”
“When?” Lizzie asked as the daylight began to fade.
“I don’t know when, but I will never stop waiting for you.”
***
“You found us,” Lizzie said. She lay on her back, her wolf almost draped across her body like a living fur coat.
“I knew you were re-born. It was just a matter of finding you,” Moira said. “As you grew older I was able to track you down.”
“How long ago was that?” Vicky still had tears on her face.
“Thousands of years ago. When man first came to this land.”
“It hurt,” Vicky said as she cuddled close to her wolf.
“Of course it did,” Moira stroked Vicky’s hair. “The wicked people of that village did the cruellest of acts against you. If I had arrived just a few minutes earlier I would have saved you. As it was, I brought a plague upon them and everyone died. But now we are reunited, and the future is ours.”
Lizzie sat up. She took hold of Moira’s hand and said, “What do you want us to do?”
“I want you to follow the girl and her friends and stop them from going any further. I need to leave you for a few days. Your guardians will care for you. Their pack mates will protect you and the crows will guide you.”
“How do we stop them?” Lizzie asked.
“Use the crows and the wolves. They will be your sword and your spear.” Moira looked to where the crows had now finished feeding upon Tiny. “Now, your guardians will need to feed.”
The Anomaly (Scarrett & Kramer Book 2) Page 26
