SONS of DON

by Brenda L. Harper

  “Don’t be afraid of me, Gwen,” he whispered against her ear. “I never hurt anyone I cared about.”

  “Why would you murder a demigod? A girl like me?”

  “Because she let Bran convince her that releasing the sons of Don was a bad idea. She was in league with them, trying to hide the gate from future generations so that the curse could never be broken. I had to kill her to stop her.”

  Tears filled Gwen’s eyes. She blinked, trying to get rid of them before Cei saw them.

  “I love you,” Cei whispered against her ear. “I will never do anything to hurt you.”

  “I’m so tired.” She turned into him again and pressed her face against his shoulder. “I just want all of this to end.”

  “So do I, love.” He sighed as he ran a hand slowly down the length of her spine. “I thought we were so close the last time. I thought that girl…she knew where the gate was and she wouldn’t tell me. If she had only told me, maybe I could have pulled her back to the right side, I could have convinced her that the sons of Don are needed in this world.”

  It felt like a threat. Gwen heard a threat in his words. “How do you know she knew?”

  Cei slid his free hand over her hip and along the small of her back, following the hollow of her spine as he slid his hand up her back and wrapped it around the back of her neck. His grip was solid, hard. She knew how much strength there was in that hand and knew he could snap her neck with one, quick movement. There was no blinking away the tears now.

  “If she had told me that night, it would all be over, and I wouldn’t have met you. So, in a strange way, I guess we should be grateful that she didn’t tell me.”

  Cei kissed the top of Gwen’s head and disentangled himself from her. “Get some rest,” he said as he towered over her. “I’ll come get you when we’re ready to go to the hospital.”

  He was gone before she could sit up, wrapping the towel as tight around herself as she could. He hands were shaking as she tried to stop the tears that were flowing freely now.

  “I can’t do this,” she whispered to herself.

  But, really, what choice did she have?

  Chapter 16

  Gwen slept fitfully, lying under the thin sheet of the hotel bed in jeans, t-shirt, and heavy sweatshirt. She was sweating when she woke, the room so dark that she was disoriented at first. She almost expected Cei to be sitting in that same chair across the room when she turned on the light, but the room was empty except for her and her meager belongings.

  She stumbled into the bathroom and washed her face, scrubbing at the places that still tingled from Cei’s touch despite a thorough washing after he left the room. She was sick to her stomach, but nothing would come up no matter how hard she tried to rid herself of the feeling.

  He admitted to killing that girl.

  She couldn’t believe it. Her mind still reeled at the idea.

  He lied about the girl knowing where the gate was…and all that about Bran? What was that? Was that just a bunch of crap, or had they really tried to convince the girl that breaking the curse was wrong? It wouldn’t surprise her if they had.

  Poor girl. Gwen couldn’t help but wonder who she was, where her parents were, and if she really understood what her destiny really was. Had she been alone in her struggle to understand, or was she lucky enough to have someone like Morgan, Rhein, Tony, and Theresa? Did she have a Paul in her life, or was Cei the only one she believed she could rely on?

  Gwen really hoped the girl had had a few moments of happiness before she met Cei.

  She went back into the bedroom and paced a minute. She wished she knew how to reach Rhein, to tell him she needed to get away from here now. She regretted not going with him the night before. Maybe it wouldn’t have been such a bad idea to leave Cei behind, to let him know that they were on to him. He obviously already suspected.

  There were bruises forming on her wrists from where he held her immobile.

  She pulled the satellite phone from her pack and dialed the only number stored within it. After a few rings, the groggy voice of her biological father filled the miles between them.

  “Gwen,” he mumbled, the sound of something crashing and a silent curse quickly following. “What time is it there?”

  “Late. I’m sorry, I forgot about the time difference.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy to hear your voice.”

  Gwen sat on the edge of the bed, tears again forming in her eyes, but these ones were a little happier than the others had been. She’d waited fourteen years to hear her father express such sentiments. She only wished they could exchange them face to face.

  “I’m in Llandudno. Tony said you were worried about me.”

  “Of course I am. You’re okay? You’re in one piece?”

  “I’m fine. But we still haven’t found the gate.”

  “There’s plenty of time for that,” he said, the gentle persuasion in his tone suggesting he was a little more awake now. “I’m just glad you aren’t traipsing around in the mountains anymore.”

  “I certainly am. I’m not in the kind of shape that took.”

  Paul grunted. “I don’t think I would be either.”

  A short silence fell between them. Gwen ran her fingers through her hair, imagining her father doing the same thing thousands of miles away. The idea brought a sob to her lips that she had to bite back so that he wouldn’t hear it.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have been so angry with you for lying to me. I know you were only trying to protect me.”

  “No, you had every right to be upset.”

  “I just…when I get back, do you think we could maybe talk? I still have so many questions.”

  “I would like that.”

  Gwen smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

  Paul cleared his throat. “Keep me updated on what’s going on, okay? And if you need anything—money or anything else…”

  “You’ll be the first person I call.”

  He made a sound that was a cross between laughter and a groan. “Good.”

  “Goodbye, Paul.”

  “Bye, Gwen. Take care of yourself.”

  ***

  Gwen followed Cei and Tony into the hospital, the bright lights almost painful to her eyes. Morgan pressed his hand to the small of her back and guided her through the sad humanity that waited in the emergency room, only half paying attention to the rhetoric playing on the televisions.

  “Can I help you?” a young woman sitting at the main desk called to them.

  Cei walked over to her, leaning down closely so that his face was only a few inches from her and began to speak in a low tone that didn’t carry to where Gwen was waiting. The woman pulled back a second, looking hard at Cei’s face before she suddenly laughed, a blush burning like wildfire over her cheeks. She looked over her shoulder before gesturing to Cei to continue on.

  “What did you say to her?” Morgan asked, as they waited for the elevator doors to close.

  “I said we were here to see our dying uncle.”

  As the doors swished closed, Gwen thought she caught a glimpse of Rhein in the waiting room. She craned her head around to see if she could spot him as the doors came together, but Cei slid his arm around her shoulders and brought her back against his chest. When he kissed her temple, she didn’t miss the pained look on Morgan’s face where it was reflected in the shiny metallic of the elevator doors.

  The doors opened a moment later. “This way,” Tony said, waving them out into a quiet, but well-lit corridor. With just a few steps, they could see nurses, orderlies, and janitors moving around a central hub a few yards in front of them. But Tony directed them down a side hall and a flight of stairs at the back of the hall.

  “Four subbasements,” Tony said as he held open the door for them to pass. “For some reason, they stick the cardiac floor in the basement. But the rest are maintenance areas. They should be deserted this late at night.”

  Cei pushed Gwen forward, app
arently intent on taking the rear position. She followed Morgan, who seemed determined to get this over with now that they were there. She had to rush to keep up with him, a little afraid she would trip over her feet. All she needed while on the run from a power hungry, evil god was to fall and break her head open on the stairs.

  The went down three flights of stairs before Morgan pushed open a heavy security door, careful to locate a piece of rock that seemed to sit down here for the sole purpose of propping the door open. He held the door until everyone stepped through, and then he wedged it into place.

  “It’s over there,” Tony said, pointing toward the dark expanse of a warehouse-sized room that was darker than the moonlit night outside.

  Gwen was grateful that it was Morgan who moved up behind her and placed a hand on her back, as they waited for Tony to fish out and activate the small flashlight he had brought along. It was funny though. The heavy sense of foreboding that had been with Gwen since the moment she woke that evening suddenly dissipated as they walked deeper into the room. She could feel the pull of something—like a thin chain that had been wrapped around her soul. It was as if all of her life was finally being reeled in by whoever, or whatever, controlled it.

  She stepped away from Morgan as the feeling became overwhelming. Tony was walking almost on a straight line, but Gwen could feel the pull tugging at her from the left side of the room. She began to walk in that direction even as Tony began to mutter quietly to himself.

  “Gwen?” Morgan called to her.

  “Stop,” Cei said, grabbing Tony’s arm—causing the flashlight to shake a little—as their footsteps stopped a few feet behind her.

  It was calling to her, this small, wonderfully ornate box that was stuck in the center of a concrete wall. She didn’t understand how it had gotten there, but she knew that it was less than pleased with its situation. Just like the trees, it seemed to purr as she approached it. She held up a hand, her fingers caressing the outer edges of the box despite the fact that she could not see it in the intense dark. Tony’s flashlight did little to dispel the darkness from such a distance.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she stroked the hard wood that had been taken from an oak tree too many years ago to try to guess. “You have served your purpose.”

  The box vibrated under her fingers.

  “How did you do that?” Morgan asked, coming up behind Gwen.

  She shrugged, not turning to look at him, or at Cei, who she knew was standing just behind him. Tony joined them, too, his flashlight illuminating the beautiful carvings on the box. Gwen let her fingers move over each one, words whispered in her mind, telling her what each one meant.

  Cei came up behind her and pressed his fingers to the keyhole in the bottom, right corner of the box. “Did you try to find a way to unlock it?” he asked Tony.

  “We tried a few things—the corner of a chisel, a screwdriver, a car key—but it wouldn’t budge.”

  “It looks like it takes a special kind of key,” Morgan said.

  “Obviously,” Cei said. “But sometimes modern marvels work just as well as the primitive things that were available when this thing was built.” He ran his fingers over the keyhole again, trying to stick his nail inside as though he could turn it with just the power of his will. But it didn’t budge. “We might have to cut it out of here and smash it.”

  “You can’t do that,” Gwen protested as the box itself seemed to shrink from his touch. “This is a beautiful piece of artistry.”

  “It’s a relic,” Cei said, his tone making it clear that he didn’t mean to imply that there was anything precious about it…it was just old to him. “And we might need what’s inside.”

  “They have some tools on the other side of the room,” Tony offered.

  “Not you, too,” Gwen said, shooting a glance at him. “Do you really think there is no other way to get it open?”

  “He’s right. There’s probably something inside of it that we need,” Tony said. “Maybe it has a map, or something, that will help us find the gate?”

  “And if it doesn’t? If you destroyed it for nothing?”

  Tony shrugged. “No one even knows it exists.”

  “So much for respecting history, Mr. History Professor,” Gwen said.

  Tony didn’t seem to hear her. He stumbled off in the direction of the tools he had mentioned, leaving the rest of them in the dark. Morgan pulled a cellphone out of his pocket and turned on an app that illuminated the area from the flash for his camera. Gwen studied the markings on the box, wondering if she should tell them what she had already figured out—that the key that was shoved in the bottom pocket of her jeans at that moment was the key that fit this lock.

  No. You mustn’t tell them.

  Gwen felt the voice inside her head as much as she heard it. And then she knew what she had to do.

  She slid her hand over the length of the box, and then let her hands drop to her sides. Cei glanced at her, perhaps suspicious of her movements, but then turned back to studying the keyhole.

  “I’ve got another screwdriver. This one is thinner than the one we tried yesterday. And this mallet should be heavy enough to break it open.”

  Cei took the screwdriver and shoved it into the narrow keyhole, but only the tip of the head would go inside and it did nothing to budge the mechanism. He tried for several minutes, the tendons in his arms sticking out as he maneuvered it. But still…nothing.

  “Give me the mallet.”

  He grabbed the mallet before Tony could offer it and stepped back, bracing his feet as he took aim at the box. The first blow was hard enough to cause small chips of the concrete wall to crumble and fall at his feet. But the box remained intact. He hit it again and again, knocking more of the concrete to the ground, but, again, nothing happened to the box.

  Cei cursed as he took two more swings, his breath coming in quick puffs and sweat beginning to pop up on his forehead. Gwen stood back, close to Morgan as they both watched the spectacle.

  “Hey, Cei,” Morgan finally said, “maybe you should try something else.”

  Cei didn’t acknowledge him. He took another, then another, swing at the box. Still nothing.

  Gwen closed her eyes, the pain of each of those blows raining down on her own skull, sending pain shooting from her forehead to her jaw and down into her neck. She wanted to cry as she watched Cei set up yet another swing.

  Tony grabbed the mallet and pulled it out of Cei’s hands. “This, obviously, isn’t going to work. Maybe we should concentrate on breaking it out of the concrete.”

  Tony approached the box and ran his fingers over the crumbling edges of the concrete wall. He could almost get his fingers knuckle deep into the crack exposed along the top edge of the box, but it was still firmly wedged inside the wall on the sides and the bottom. He used the screwdriver to try to break it free, but the concrete wasn’t soft in those spots and no amount of jabbing was going to break it loose.

  “Let me,” Cei said, taking the screwdriver and working it like a dagger against the edges of the concrete. He nicked the side of the box once or twice, causing pain to flare in Gwen’s limbs. But, again, the box wasn’t going anywhere.

  “We need something bigger,” Morgan said. “Maybe a crowbar?”

  “There might be one over there,” Tony said, gesturing over his shoulder without looking at him.

  Morgan grabbed Gwen’s hand and pulled her across the room. The moment they were out of earshot, he leaned close to her and asked, “Did you do something to that box?”

  As much as Gwen adored Morgan, she wasn’t yet sure if she could trust him. It was obvious to her that he was in love with Cei—something she probably should have guessed a long time ago, but missed with everything else that had been going on—and she was afraid anything she told him he would turn around and tell Cei.

  She knew now that she couldn’t trust Cei.

  “It just doesn’t want to come out of that wall,” she said, which was the truth, to a point.r />
  “Do you know what’s inside of it?”

  Gwen shook her head. Again, she had a pretty good idea, but she didn’t want to say anything. The markings on the box…they told a story. If the translation the wood had given her was correct, the item inside that box would help Gwen do so much more than break a curse. It would give her give her the power over immortality.

  It would make it possible for her to heal, to cure, to change this world in ways that everyone has dreamed of but no one ever though was possible.

  It was a very dangerous item.

  Morgan picked up a thin crowbar that was hanging from a nail on the back of an ancient looking workbench. He balanced it in his hand, as though testing it for weight.

  “Do you think this will do it?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve never tried to pry an ancient box out of concrete before.”

  Morgan swung it low against his thigh. “It’s worth a try, I guess.”

  Gwen started to walk back, but Morgan grabbed her arm. “Why do you suppose you knew where that thing was?”

  Gwen turned back to him. “I just felt it.”

  “Why didn’t I?”

  “You said you were the first one to see it.”

  “I was.” He looked back toward the faint light of Tony’s flashlight. “But I didn’t feel anything. I just happen to catch a glimpse of it as we were getting ready to leave.”

  “I guess your powers just work differently from mine.”

  “But we’re essentially the same thing, aren’t we?”

  Gwen touched his arm lightly. “I know just about as much about all of this as you do.”

  That seemed to satisfy him. He took her hand and led the way back to the other side of the room, the light of his phone where he was carefully carrying it in the same hand as the crowbar guiding the way.

  But the crowbar didn’t work. Cei used it in every way possible, the sharp edge of it gouging into the wood on each side of the box, but never leaving a mark—the pain of it like a beating Gwen could hardly stand. Then, Tony took over and tried it himself. They were stubborn, not giving up until an alarm on Tony’s phone went off.