by Chloe Garner
Behind her, there was concern. Angry noises. Sam was trying to keep peace while being entranced with the feeling in her brain. The perfection of it. She sent him warm appreciation for giving her space, then looked at the shape of the blood on the wall, weaving signs into it in careful sequence. The design was immense, most of the wall, and intricate, mostly one-finger work, not palm-work, and she wasn’t sure how long it took her to finish it. The room had calmed, growing quiet and still as she finished, tracing blood along the top edge of the bowl and marking Jason’s blood with her own. It would only work here. It would only work for these people. But it was enough. She turned. Sam had some inkling of what she had done, and Jason was nearly unconscious. Heather held out an arm to Sam again and walked to stand next to Samantha.
“What is it?” she asked, voice controlled calm.
“Protection,” Samantha said. “Mine and Jason’s. Paint this wall. Don’t clean it. Just paint over it. You’ll want to be careful for a couple of weeks, but after that, you should be just about invisible to… just about anything antagonistic, actually. Don’t know why this wouldn’t work on ghosts. People have enough freewill to get past it, but it would take a force of will.” She looked at Heather. “I assume you can hold your own against a home invasion, though.” Heather grunted.
“What are you, child?”
“Older than you.”
“Where did you learn this?”
“At the feet of the Angel of Death,” Samantha said. “Well, some of it. Some of it’s new.”
“You invented it?”
“We call it the touch. Weaving magics together in new ways. I call it inspiration.”
“You saved our lives tonight, didn’t you?”
Samantha considered. That was complicated.
“If I didn’t put them in danger in the first place, yes.”
“I retired in order to not put my daughter in danger, but I opened my home as a waystation because I know that what the Rangers do is important.” She turned her head slowly to Samantha. “You carry more destiny on your back than most.”
Samantha nodded. Destiny was… not the right term, but… She didn’t chase the thought. She’d derived the source of her importance too many times to mentally correct Heather.
“We hold our roles in deep respect, the risks that we accept. Do not return here again, while Elizabeth lives under this roof. I cannot tolerate it. Once she is gone, my home should be your refuge. It is my part to play.”
Samantha dipped her head.
“I understand.”
She looked at Sam.
“Can you get him packed up?” she asked, motioning to Jason. He nodded.
“Sam… can I talk to you for a minute?” Elizabeth asked. She was looking at Samantha. Samantha felt a tiny stab of panic, but nodded. She had no idea how to talk to the petite beauty. Elizabeth licked her lips. “Privately? Upstairs?”
Samantha nodded and Elizabeth looked up at Jason for a moment, then stood and led the way up the stairs to her room. She dropped on her bed and waited. Samantha sat.
“Are you two together, now?” she asked. “You and Jason?”
Samantha was stunned.
“I mean, it’s just, you were here like a week ago, or, but… you couldn’t keep your eyes off Sam… and stuff.”
Samantha frowned. Was that true? She didn’t think she had been that transparent, but…
“It doesn’t matter. You take good care of him. He should be happy. I just wondered because… I’m happy with Monroe. I think we’re going to get married. Just. Look, I know Jason and I weren’t ever going to end up together. He should be with someone like you, but.” She looked out the window. “Take good care of him, okay? He’s the best guy I’ve been with.” Something awkward must have crossed her face, because Elizabeth blushed. “Not like that. Well… okay, never mind. But. We used to just lay and talk. He listened to me. About my mom and school and my dad… We used to play a game guessing what my dad did for a living, off somewhere. He made me laugh. He… Tell him I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Samantha asked, feeling like she wasn’t carrying her side of the conversation very well.
“For bringing you here… like this. Mom wouldn’t do it. She was going to let him kill me. I told her to. I… I thought he was going to kill you. Kill Jason… But. He hit her. And… I couldn’t let him. I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry.”
“You did exactly the right thing,” Samantha said. “No regrets. No apologies. I would have never forgiven myself or you if you had just stood there and let him kill your mom. Okay?”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, tears brimming in her eyes, then nodded and threw herself at Samantha to hug her.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again,” Samantha said. “Best if I don’t. Good luck, okay? Be happy.”
Elizabeth nodded, her chin buried in Samantha’s shoulder.
“Okay.”
“And… I’m not with either one of them,” Samantha said. “Probably never will be. But I’ll take good care of him, anyway.”
“He’d make you happy,” Elizabeth said. “I know he would.”
Samantha smiled at her.
“Goodbye, Elizabeth.”
“Goodbye, Sam.”
<><><>
“It’s not that I’m not grateful,” Sam said, miles of silence later as Jason slept in the back seat. “I appreciate you protecting Heather and Elizabeth. I do. But…”
He had been chewing on this since they had left the house.
“Why did I do that for Heather and not Arthur and Doris,” Samantha finished for him. He sighed.
“I miss him.”
“I know. I wish I could have. That isn’t how it works.”
“I know. I’m grateful, and I know that… I felt you come up with the idea. I know you couldn’t have done the same thing for Doris…”
She wasn’t sure if it would help the guilt or not, but him sitting there and not saying it was painful.
“You would trade Heather’s life for Arthur’s if you could,” she said. “It’s okay. I would, too. That’s why we don’t get to. You think you feel bad for wanting to? Imagine how bad you would feel if you could actually do it.” She put her arm up in the window and rested her head on her fist. “No, these things occur to me most when I’m looking for them. The next time we’re there, I’ll look. I promise.”
He nodded at the road.
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry about Jason,” she said.
“He owes me twenty bucks,” Sam said. She laughed. He glanced at her. “No, seriously. I appreciate you taking care of me, but you do what you have to do to kill them. Seeing you in your element like that, I kind of wonder if we aren’t holding you back.”
“I’m holding me back, not you.”
“Whatever. We’re kind of superfluous, when you take a step back and look at it. You weren’t even a little afraid of him until he started to hurt Jason.”
Samantha frowned, trying to form the right words. It was so easy to be patronizing by accident. Or on purpose.
“Carter’s a prick,” she said. Somehow that was the first thing that made sense. He laughed.
“Okay.”
“No, that’s how we turn out. You can’t care about anyone, because they just get killed. So you turn into a giant tool. We either get survivor’s guilt or survivor’s ego. I don’t want that. I missed being around people who were happy. People who were happy. People who were happy to see me just because I was me, not because of what I could do or what I could get Carter to do. You two are the most important people I’ve had in my life in almost ninety years, on the timeline I’ve lived.”
“What about Abby?” Sam asked.
“I love her. And she loves me. But it’s cold. It just has to be cold. I don’t know. You guys, the Rangers, you look death in the face and you go ‘screw it, I’m getting drunk’. We look death in the face and say ‘I will fight you, I w
ill scratch and claw and fight; I will not go easy’. And then there was Justin.” Sam had forgotten. She felt him recalibrate new pity. “It was so good, but it wasn’t whole. I could have done that for the rest of my life, but I was just hiding him away, hoping no one would get to him. And of course they did. Of course they did. I thought that he would be to me what I was to Carter. That they would fear me enough to leave him alone. Carter told me it was denial. And he was right…” She had lost the thesis of her idea. She went through it again, remembering what she was actually talking about. “I need you guys. This isn’t about killing things, and it isn’t about staying alive. It’s about being alive.”
They were silent for another mile or so.
“Just…”
“If I can keep her safe, I will. But we’re past the point of no return. I identified myself. They know you’re with me. It’s been hundreds of years on that side, if not more. Brandt is amassing power and making new plans. Long-term plans. They may have had a hellwar and restructured the entire sect structure in the time we’ve been in the car. There’s no more hiding. The die is cast; now all we can do is cope the best we can with the results.”
“That’s ominous,” Sam said.
“I’ve been on vacation,” Samantha said. “It’s time to go back to my real world again.”
“You don’t mean…”
“No, I’m not going back to Carter. You just got sucked into my world. I never meant for that to happen.”
He looked at her.
“You should sleep. You’re exhausted.”
“I am. You didn’t sleep well last night, either,” she said. It had been cold and they wanted someone on watch the whole night, in case any goblins re-formed a group and got a dumb idea.
“No, you’re deep-down exhausted. You weren’t this tired when I went to go get Heather and Elizabeth,” he said.
“I told you healing isn’t my gift,” she said.
“You healed him?”
“I helped,” she said. “He should have a normal range of motion again in a few days. I didn’t look close; he may have a mark on one of his ribs from the glass.”
“And then the protection spell…”
“Wasn’t it beautiful, though?” Samantha asked, drifting slightly. She heard his lips split as he smiled.
“I could tell you thought so,” he said. “To the rest of us mere mortals, it looked like you smearing blood on a wall.”
“Did that freak them out bad?” she asked.
“You didn’t hear?” he asked.
“I was kind of in the moment.”
He laughed.
“Yeah. I could tell. That’s crazy, what you do.”
“It’s amazing.”
“You should sleep,” he said. “Where are we headed?”
“Would you feel better if we went to Kansas City?”
“Yes. Is that safe?”
“We kicked up a bunch of dust back there, at Heather’s. We needed to move, to draw attention out. That’s the truth. But I also didn’t want Heather staring at us. They needed space away from us, too. I think if we keep quiet, we should be okay, and we can keep an eye on Doris.”
“Yeah.”
He looked over at her. He was happy to have her next to him, like this. She was warm and sleepy and, for this moment, safe.
“Sleep,” he said. She sighed, pressed her back against Lahn, comforting in the sheath on her back, and then curled up against the door, drifting away.
<><><>
Sam carried her into the house. Doris made quiet worried noises. Her dreams mixed with the sound of Sam’s heart beating as she lay her head against his chest, then there was a soft bed and she was soundly asleep again.
<><><>
She woke in darkness, her mind muddled. She had no idea where she was, and she was tangled up and held fast. She tried to pull her arms loose, sleepy confusion giving way to panic.
“Easy,” Sam laughed. “Easy.”
He moved and the sheets pulled taught, freeing her limbs. She drew a shaky breath, trying to make her brain catch up. She still didn’t know where she was, couldn’t see, but Sam was there, relaxed, and that was enough. She closed her eyes and drew on that. She was confused. He was calm. A little concerned, but that was gone now. He had been waiting for her to wake up.
“How long did I sleep?” she asked.
“It’s been twenty hours,” he said. She rolled on her side and pulled her knees up to her chest.
“We told Doris what happened. Told her everything,” Sam said. “She doesn’t seem to think it’s that important. Said nothing changed.”
“Where am I?”
“My room,” he said. “Carson is still here, and there’s another Ranger staying the night, so she ran out of beds. She was going to put you in her room and sleep on a couch downstairs, but I told her you’d prefer this.”
Samantha nodded at the darkness.
“What time is it?”
“A little after ten.”
“Is everyone asleep?”
He laughed.
“Drinking downstairs. They’re a little worried about you.”
“This is normal,” she said, remembering the first time she had slept three days straight. Abby told her that Carter had woken her up three times to make her drink, but she didn’t remember anything.
“I thought that. You didn’t feel bad. Just tired.”
“How’s Jason?”
“Walking around like an old man and hating it.”
“Any other injuries turn up? I was a little worried about internal bleeding,” she said.
“He’s bruised everywhere, but I think he’s okay.”
“Eating, drinking, sleeping?”
“Eating like a horse. Should I have stopped him from hitting the whiskey with Bart?”
“Probably,” Samantha said, pushing her head into her pillow. Warm, dark, safe.
“You ready to get up?” he asked.
“I should eat,” she said.
“The furniture in here is a bit tricky. Wait there. I’ll get the light.”
The covers pulled back as he got up, and she pulled them over her head.
“The name you gave Brandt. Yours,” he said, flipping on the light. She peeked out from under the sheets to give herself a moment to acclimate.
“Yeah?”
“What was it?”
“Renouch. The spelling doesn’t help with pronunciation. I wouldn’t expect you to be able to say it.”
“What does it mean?”
“The one who returned.”
“They hate you for that?”
“Passionately.”
He nodded.
“You ready?”
“I’m about to get grilled, aren’t I?” she asked.
He scratched his eye.
“Maybe.”
He was playful, happy. Home. She sat up.
“Where’s Lahn?”
“Next to you,” he pointed. The sheath harness was hanging from the bedpost.
“I’m not going to ask,” she said. He grinned. “Mind if I change? Something that I didn’t fight a demon in and get Jason’s blood all over would be nice.”
“I’ll be downstairs.”
She stretched, finding a few sore spots where Brandt had landed a good shot, but nothing unexpected, then dressed and followed Sam to the kitchen. Doris looked up at her and smiled warmly.
“Morning, Sweetie,” she said. “You want breakfast or dinner?”
“I’ll just have something easy,” she said.
“Carson is cooking. Anything you want.”
Samantha closed her eyes, remembering a long-ago time.
“French toast,” she said. Carson laughed.
“Good choice.”
Doris looked over at where Jason and a friendly-faced stranger sat with a half-empty bottle between them.
“Bart, we’re going to have a family conversation now. Can I ask you to excuse yourself?”
“Sure. I’m headed
out early tomorrow, anyway. Night, Jason. Sam. Carson. Doris.” He paused. “Sam? I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
She stood and shook his hand.
“Good night,” she said. He grinned and wandered out.
“Let’s start with this,” Doris said, rising from her seat and kneeling next to Jason, who rolled his eyes as she lifted his arm out of the way and lifted his shirt. Samantha put her chin on the table.
“This is good work,” Doris said. “Inflammation is down, looks like almost no drainage. But what is this?” she asked, probing the rubber cement. Jason winced.
“Healing gel. Separates an injury from the outside world. Almost universally prevents infection. Some of us use it as armor, in a pinch.”
“What’s the shelf life?” Doris asked.
“Six months, give or take.”
“Will you leave me some?”
“I don’t think it would work for you,” Samantha said. Doris re-settled Jason’s shirt and smiled thoughtfully.
“I expect it would.”
Samantha frowned.
“Fair enough. It’s yours.”
“Next, the boys tell me you’re a witch.”
“Seriously? That’s what you told her? After everything?”
“It’s our word, even if it isn’t yours,” Doris said. “You take the latent power in the world around you and you shape it to do what you want.”
“Yes, that would be a witch. I take light power, the static on the barrier itself, and use that. It’s different.”
Doris laughed.
“Not to us.”
“I don’t want it getting out I’m a witch. Broad spectrum. I’m a broad spectrum magician. I’m a notable White Knight. To call me a witch is like calling Sam a marksman.”
Jason snorted. Sam contemplated whether to be offended, then dismissed it.
“Doesn’t matter enough to us to be caught up on. Whatever you like. Rangers don’t trust magicians.”
“Only because you have no idea that you use magic all the time.”
A griddle sizzled as Carson tested the temperature. Suddenly Samantha was hungry. Doris continued.
“That’s what Sam has been trying to explain. Interesting theory. That we only run up against one kind of magic in our line of work. Arthur would have sent you out to the shed to eat your dinner for making a claim like that.” Sam and Jason smiled, and Carson laughed. “But he would have called you back in and talked your ear off about it, looking for whether or not he’d overlooked something useful all those years. And Carson is very much his son.”
