Brand waited for Rafe just inside the entrance.
He surveyed Rafe with a cold stare. “So, you wearied of bullying humans?”
“They are not much of a challenge, I admit.” Rafe saw a ripple of movement out of the corner of one eye. He looked around; nothing there. “But they were willing and accessible. I confess, I did not think of you, afflicted as you are by your peculiar infirmity. The woman Adara has unmanned you.”
Brand smiled. It was not a pleasant expression. “We shall see. What is it to be?” He pulled a fireball of energy out of the air and balanced it on his fingertip. In his other hand he held a blazing sword. “Shall we duel with the elements or our weapons?”
“Neither.” Eagerness surged through Rafe. He was looking forward to this. He was going to pound Brand to a bloody pulp. Reaching behind him, he removed his battle-axe and tossed it in the sand. “I choose fists.”
Brand threw his sword in the sand next to the axe. “I was hoping you would say that.”
They circled each other. They had sparred many times throughout the years and were familiar with one another’s fighting styles. Sparring was a daily activity in the Hall of Warriors and the Brand of old had been a worthy opponent. But that was before he succumbed to Addy’s wiles.
Moving with preternatural speed, Rafe opened the attack with a flurry of punches and a flying sidekick to the head. Brand hit the ground. When he got back up, his mouth and nose were bleeding.
Rafe smiled. This was going to be easy. And enjoyable. Hitting Brand felt good. He didn’t have to worry about killing him and it lessened his anger and confusion. It made him forget things.
“Your feelings for the female have made you slow and weak,” he said, taunting the other warrior. “Stronger and better than a human opponent—but still weak. You were once a great warrior, but no more. I pity you.”
Brand spat a mouthful of blood into the sand. His injuries were already healing. “Save your pity for yourself, brother. You suffer from the same disease. You love your wife.”
“You are mistaken.” Rafe ground his teeth, some of his enjoyment fading. “I do not love Bunny.”
“Liar,” Brand said.
He swung his right fist at Rafe’s head. Rafe threw up his arm to block the blow. Too late, he realized it was a feint. Brand spun his body in a blur of movement, hooked Rafe’s lower legs, and knocked him to the ground. Rafe rolled away and leaped to his feet. He saw a flash of motion and leaned back, narrowly avoiding a head punch. He swung his right arm. His fist connected with Brand’s face with a satisfying crunch. Brand’s cheek split and his eye swelled.
Rafe followed his first punch with a second and a third to the ribs, ending with a roundhouse kick to the head. Brand grunted and staggered back.
“I do not love Bunny,” Rafe snarled.
Brand regained his balance. “Keep saying it, brother. You will not convince either of us. You love her.”
The black rage boiled up and overflowed. With a roar of outrage, he lowered his head and charged. At the last second, Brand stepped aside. As Rafe lunged past, Brand stuck his boot out and tripped him. Rafe slid face first into the sand. Coughing and spitting, he struggled to his knees.
Brand walked up and slammed his fist in Rafe’s face, breaking his nose. Blood spurted into the sand. Brand stepped closer and elbow smashed Rafe in the jaw. Everything went black. Rafe hit the ground and Brand jumped on top of him.
“You love Bunny. Admit it,” Brand said, punching him in the chest and stomach.
“No,” Rafe mumbled.
His nose hurt and he was fairly certain Brand had cracked several of his ribs. His injuries would quickly heal, but he was in real danger of suffocating under the big warrior’s weight.
Brand hit him again. “Say it.”
“No.”
Brand got up and dragged Rafe to his feet. Rafe had time to catch a quick breath before Brand grabbed him in a headlock and squeezed.
“Say it,” Brand growled.
Rafe shook his head. He could do no more, not when Brand was crushing his windpipe.
“Bah, Adara is right. Your head is made of meat,” Brand said. “A Dalvahni warrior does not lie, especially to himself. You are the weak one, not I. A true warrior faces his fears and his responsibilities. You love Bunny, but you are afraid to admit it. I am done with you.”
Brand flung him to the ground. Rafe heard the squeak of Brand’s boots in the sand as he walked away.
The boots stopped.
“Arise, brother,” Brand said softly. “We have company.”
Chapter Fifteen
Rafe struggled to his feet. The sand had come alive.
Dozens of sand people surrounded them. Tall and cylindrical, the sand people had long, mournful faces and slack, hollow mouths. They watched the two warriors with empty eyes. Two sand dogs frolicked at their feet. At the edge of the crowd of silent, unmoving figures, a sand kitten washed its face with a gritty paw.
“We have a problem,” Brand said in a low voice. “Our weapons are gone. Almost of a certainty our grainy friends have them.”
“That is a problem. Perhaps we should leave.”
“Not without my sword.”
“I thought you might say that.” Rafe sighed. Brand’s fondness for his sword Uriel was well-known among the Dalvahni. “Very well, we will demand the return of our weapons. If they do not comply, we destroy them.”
Brand seemed to consider this. “That might work. Or we could try asking them nicely.”
“I did not think of that.”
Brand shrugged. “Adara’s influence. I have mellowed.”
“Since you are feeling so congenial, you ask them.”
“As you wish.” Brand cleared his throat. “Greetings . . . er . . . quarry people. My brother and I apologize for trespassing upon your domain. I assure you, we did so out of ignorance and without malicious intent, for we knew not of your existence. Return our weapons and we will depart in peace.” He paused. “Thwart us, however, and we will unleash the fury of the Dalvahni and scatter you to the four winds.”
“Very nice and conciliatory,” Rafe murmured. “Except for the last part.”
“A warrior only mellows so much.”
Rafe rubbed his aching ribs. “So I noticed.”
Two of the sand people shuffled forward, the weapons in their upraised hands. Rafe and Brand approached them. The sand creatures stared straight ahead, as unmoving as statues, offering no resistance when the two warriors retrieved their weapons.
“See,” Brand said as the two creatures lumbered back into the crowd. “Diplomacy works.”
Shoulder to shoulder, Rafe and Brand strode toward the entrance of the quarry escorted by their shambling guard. The company of sand people parted ranks. Rafe and Brand walked between the silent rows and through the gate. They reached the road and looked back. The quarry was empty, except for the sigh of the wind through the dunes.
Night settled around them. Not far away, Rafe heard the rushing sound of the river. An owl hooted in a nearby tree and a chorus of frogs started a new song. A light breeze played through the air. He took a deep breath. His nose had healed. He smelled pine, grass and the earthy scent of the mud along the riverbank. The paved road beneath his feet still held the heat of the day.
“Strange forces are at work in this place,” Rafe said, breaking the silence. “I have been thinking of asking for permanent assignment here.”
“Why?”
Rafe gave the other warrior an incredulous stare. “Because it is my duty.”
“Ah, we are back to that again. You know, you really are a tedious fellow.”
“Meaning?”
“Only that your desire to stay here should have something to do with your wife.”
Rafe stiffened. “I consider protecting Bunny part of my duty.”
“If that is your primary reason for staying here, tarry no longer.” Brand turned and walked down the dark road. “I feel certain Conall will assign another of
our rank to protect her.”
Once more, Rafe had a vision of Bunny in another man’s arms. She was so sweet and beautiful, so giving. How could any red-blooded male resist her? If he left, how long would it be before another warrior lost himself in her embrace as he had?
No, that wasn’t right. He hadn’t lost himself in Bunny’s arms. He’d found himself. With her, he was home at last, after a hundred lifetimes of wandering.
He caught up with Brand in two strides and spun him around.
“Bunny is mine,” he snarled. “No one else’s, do you hear?”
“Your dog-in-manger attitude is beginning to annoy me.” Brand shook his head. “Let her go if you do not love her. It is the honorable thing to do.”
The world tilted and dropped away beneath Rafe’s feet. He was falling, falling, into nothing. Let Bunny go? And do what? Wander through the dark, lonely reaches of time without her, caught in the endless pursuit of the djegrali?
“No, I cannot,” he said.
“Why?”
Rafe stared at him, helpless to put his feelings into words. His feelings? Damnation.
“She is with child,” he blurted.
“A child?” Brand whistled. “You are sure?”
Rafe sent a rock flying down the road with a vicious kick of his boot. “Yes. She told me tonight.”
“This is momentous news indeed. It also explains a multitude of things, including the fire you started in that tavern.”
“I did not—” Rafe stopped. He clenched his fists. Had he? He remembered being in the bar and the burning rage that had consumed him. The terrible anger spilled out of him and the walls and ceiling went up in flames. “You are right,” he said in dawning self-disgust. “I started that fire. I was filled with a fury greater than any I remember. I could not control it.”
“Do not chastise yourself too severely. Certain females can have that effect upon a warrior.” Brand’s expression grew rueful. “As I know only too well.”
“A warrior should always be in control. I was not.” The bitter words choked Rafe. With an effort, he continued. “In truth, I do not think I have been in control since I met Bunny.” He straightened his shoulders and looked Brand in the eye. “I have violated our creed. My transgressions are unpardonable. You should report me to Conall.”
“Tell him yourself if it gives you ease. I will not.”
“But duty compels you to—”
Brand held up his hand. “Please, no lectures. I have lived the Dalvahni way as long as you. I am familiar with our code. For years beyond counting I have pursued the djegrali. It was all I knew until I met Adara. But now that I have found her, I will not go back to the half-life of my former existence. I cannot. I have something far better than the emptiness and the endless hunt, something infinitely more precious. I have Adara. And I will fight to protect her and those she loves from any and all danger, including the djegrali, so long as I have an ounce of strength in my warrior’s body. I recommend you do the same.”
“But . . . but the child. I have no notion how be a father!”
“You will learn. We Dalvahni are nothing if not resourceful.” Brand slapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, brother. To my knowledge, you are the first of our kind to sire a child. But do not, for a moment, imagine I will allow you to best me for long.” He grinned. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to find Adara. We have some catching up to do.”
Brand vanished, leaving Rafe alone on the road. A moment later, he reappeared.
“Here, it is called chocolate.” Brand thrust a small, crinkly package into Rafe’s hands. “Consume it wisely and not all at once.” He grinned. “As Adara would say, it will rock your world.”
He was gone.
Rafe turned the package over in his hands. The narrow box was wrapped in brown, glossy paper. The words Hershey’s Milk Chocolate were written in silver letters across the front. He tore it open. There were six flat, individually wrapped objects in the pack. Rafe took one out and tore off the covering. A delicious, rich scent wafted up his nose.
He took a large bite of the chocolate and chewed. It was slightly crunchy and sweet but otherwise unremarkable. Then the chocolate melted on his tongue and a strange, warm feeling came over him. He had never felt anything like it. He took another bite. The warm feeling spread.
He liked chocolate. Chocolate was good.
Rafe lounged with his back against the tree, his legs stretched out on the ground in front of him. His whole body felt heavy. With an effort, he lifted one booted foot and crossed it over the other. His feet seemed miles away. He was singing Coop’s favorite song, the one about the “dawgs” and the man on the table. He wanted to know why the man was on the table. Coop would know. He must remember to ask him.
He sang the first verse over and over. It was the only one he knew.
The fairies did not like it. They buzzed in agitation around him, beautiful, multicolored blobs of floating light that chattered without ceasing. He could hear the steady drone of their high pitched voices above his singing. A brilliant green one darted close to hover at the end of his nose on gossamer wings. He stopped singing and crossed his eyes. “It” was a she. Her large eyes were dark teardrops in her pointed face. Long, wispy hair the color of new leaves swirled around her naked breasts.
“Pretty,” he said with a silly grin. He tried to touch the fairy with the tip of his finger, but she darted away. “Ah, little one, I mean you no harm.”
He held out his hand. She left the swarm of fairies that drifted around him to settle on his palm. Tilting her dainty head, she said something to him in a thin voice.
“Sorry,” he said. “I cannot understand you.”
He reached for a chocolate bar with his free hand. The package was empty.
“Someone ate all the chocolate.” He shifted his bleary gaze to the fairy. “Was it you?”
The fairy shook her head.
“Next I suppose you will be saying it was me.”
The fairy chittered.
“You can say that again,” Rafe said. “May I tell you a secret?”
The fairy’s wings slowly opened and closed.
“I will take that as a ‘yes.’ ” He leaned closer. “I love Bunny. There, I said it. It terrifies me, these feelings I have for her, but I can deny them no longer.” He glanced to his right and left. “I will tell you something else. I am going to have a baby.” He thought about that one. “Well, actually Bunny is going to have a baby, but I am the father. That terrifies me, too. I do not know how to be a father.”
He leaned his head against the tree and burst once more into song. With a tinkling huff of protest, the fairy took to the air. She pointed her finger at him. A cloud of green, sparkly dust smacked him between the eyes. Suddenly, he was very drowsy. He yawned and fell asleep.
Chapter Sixteen
Rafe woke up underneath a tree. He felt awful. His head hurt and there was a bad taste in his mouth. What ailed him? The Dalvahni did not know sickness. He lifted his head and looked around. He instantly regretted it, for the slightest movement made his temples throb. Bits of wadded up brown paper and silver wrappers lay scattered on the ground.
The chocolate, he had eaten all the chocolate. And, by the sword, it made him drunk!
He picked up an empty wrapper and stared at it. Through the years, he’d seen many different species under the influence of various substances, but the Dal were immune to alcohol and drugs of every kind. Except for chocolate, it seemed.
He had a vague recollection of eating one of the bars and liking the loose, heady feeling it gave him. He’d never felt that way before. He had thought about Bunny and the baby and ate some more chocolate. It had seemed a good idea at the time.
Walking in the woods had seemed like a good idea, too. After a while he got tired of walking and sat under an old oak. He did not recall finishing the pack of chocolate bars, but he must have done so. The evidence was all around him.
He sat up. His stomach roiled and his h
ead ached like the very devil. So this was what a hangover felt like. He could not say he enjoyed the sensation or cared to repeat it.
He ran his tongue across his teeth. A bath was in order. Somewhere nearby, he heard the burble of running water. He followed the sound and found a creek. He stripped off his leathers and waded in.
The water was cold and he made quick work of washing himself. As he dried off in a patch of sunshine, his thoughts drifted back to the night before. He dimly recalled singing. He winced. His singing was painful. He sounded like a lovesick elk. The fairies must have thought so too. Especially the little green one, because she’d—
Rafe went still, remembering the puff of fairy dust and the dream that followed.
More like a vision than a dream, dozens of happy images of the future. His future with Bunny and their child.
A son, the babe Bunny carried was a son, tall and red-haired and strong like Rafe, with Bunny’s amazing teal eyes and wide smile and loving nature. They would name him John Bryant, after Bunny’s father, and Rafe would teach him to be strong and brave and honorable. And Bunny would teach their child how to love, just as she’d taught him the meaning of that word.
And that was the most important lesson of all.
He needed to see Bunny. He needed to tell her he loved her. Brand was right. He was a coward.
But no longer. It was going to be all right. He could do this. He could.
He needed to tell her.
Bunny checked her appearance in the bathroom mirror. She looked okay. In fact, she looked great. Nothing at all like someone who’d spent the night pacing the floor and crying her eyes out. No puffy eyes or swollen red nose. No sign of fatigue. That Dalvahni DNA was strong stuff.
Too bad it didn’t work on her broken heart.
She was afraid this would happen. She’d told herself to be ready for it. But it still hurt like hell when Rafe disappeared. Turned out, nothing could prepare her for having her heart ripped out. She had been so sure he loved her. And maybe he did. But, he was incapable of admitting it. The baby was the final straw. She would never forget the look on his face when she told him or the gut-wrenching pain she felt when he left.
So I Married A Demon Slayer Page 26
