Demon Trackers: The Anointed

by Clover Autrey

  Henry came to, coughing so hard he thought he might break a rib. Miraculously his headlamp was still on. Sooty dust and leaves and other debris clouded the air in the beam’s light. Gremlins. Explosion. Shit. A moan rumbled inside his chest though he couldn’t hear it over the shrill ring vibrating in his head. He must not have been out long if the air was still settling.

  He’d been running full out, knowing the gremlins and the fire and the dynamite…and his sons…Henry shot up to a sitting position and the world immediately took a slow revolution around him. He waited for it to pass, fear steeping incrementally. Had the boys gotten far enough away before the cave was blown to hell?

  Shaking, he took a quick inventory for injuries. Except for his thigh that burned where the gremlin's teeth clamped down, he’d come out of this rather unscathed. He got to his feet slowly and shouted, “Boys!” That he heard. It sounded far away and buried in mud, but he could hear his voice, which meant once the ringing subsided he’d be fine.

  “Jake! Cael!” He started walking upslope, feeling the rise of ground through the strain on his legs, because he certainly couldn’t see anything in the dark smoke-filled night.

  “Dad.”

  Henry paused, uncertain of the direction the call came from. Had to be a shout, though beneath the ringing it was barely a whisper.

  A hand clasped around his arm and Henry startled, unaccustomed to not being able to hear another’s approach. Jake, covered with dirt and ash, his headlamp gone, and Henry realized Jake must have found him by following the light of his beam.

  Jake’s eyes were wide, his mouth moving. Kid was freaking out. Henry leaned forward trying to catch words. “Can’t find…gone…ripped away…don't…”

  “Cael?” Cael was gone. Jake couldn’t find him. Henry grasped Jake’s forearms. “Son, I can’t hear you. Too close to the denotation. Show me where you were.”

  Jake’s distressed eyes tracked around in confusion. Everything was dark, hazy. The pitch of night layered with smoke and swirling debris. Several of the smaller trees were now splintered, downed. Henry’s heart dropped. If Cael was beneath one of those…“That’s okay, we’ll find him. Your best guess, Jake. In relation to the cave, where were you?”

  They both looked back to where the cave entrance once was, still easy to locate with shells of monsters glowing like embers.

  Jake tugged him forward, shuffling. Henry stopped, knowing instantly that something was wrong. He looked down, the light showing Jake was barely putting any weight on his right foot. “Ankle?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Jake shook his head. Henry heard that more clearly, the ringing lessening.

  “Sit down. I’ll look for Cael.”

  “No Sir.” That Henry heard distinctly. Jake hobbled forward again. “Not until we know Cael’s okay.”

  Henry wasn’t going to argue, knowing Jake would crawl around the entire slope if it came to it. “All right. You take it slow. Search a tight area and I’ll range wide.” Jake nodded agreement to that. “Where do you think you were?”

  His son looked back at the cave, lips smacking repeatedly together the way they did when he was nervous, yet trying to stay focused. Resolved, his dirty face hardened, lips stopped moving. “This way. I’m pretty sure we were just over here.” He limped a few yards up the slope and then turned to face the cave. “I was pulling him.” He cupped his arms out as though he still dragged his brother. His breathing was increasing, chest rising and falling in hard pants. “Then the explosion…and Cael…” Jake shook his head, eyes wide. “…Cael was torn away. Dad, I don’t know which way…he was just all of a sudden gone…I don’t know which way.”

  “It’s all right.” Henry forced his voice to be steady. Seeing his usually unruffled son breaking scared him. “He couldn’t have been thrown far.” But he was thrown. They all were. “We’ll find him.” Henry pulled the headlamp off his own head and handed it to Jake. He wanted to keep him within his sight as well as give Jake the added benefit of seeing where he placed his injured foot. “I’m going to look right. You search a small grid around here.” He patted Jake’s shoulder. “We’ll find him.”

  Jake nodded rapidly and angled the small square lamp in his hand to illuminate the ground. Henry turned to go in the opposite direction. He could barely see a thing and all the torn leaves and soot that had settled from the thick air, that were still settling, left a lumpy carpet of bits and fragments that all looked the same.

  He walked slowly, feeling carefully for twigs and rocks beneath his foot before shifting his weight on each step. He couldn’t afford to twist his ankle, not when both his sons were counting on him. His thigh was killing him. He was twenty steps out. In combat he’d seen men ride a blast-wave pretty far, but no farther than twenty steps, unless they rolled when they hit. Which in this situation meant downhill. Henry sidestepped to move down the slope a little and the side of his boot slid in the dirt, coming to rest against something soft, pliable.

  He froze. His pulse banged in his ears as loudly as the ringing had earlier.

  He crouched down, afraid to hope that they’d get this lucky. He couldn’t see a damn thing. He felt around with his hands, meeting fabric, grainy with dirt. Bunching it between his fingers, he found goose-pebbled skin beneath, the dip between hips and back, the knobby bones of Cael’s spine. And small movements with each inhalation on the boy's side. Henry squeezed his eyes closed, letting the shakiness of the sudden relief work through him. He needed that light.

  “Jake! Over here!”

  He watched as the receding light suddenly changed direction, coming right at him. As Jake picked his way over, Henry checked for a pulse—slow, but there. He ran his hands over Cael’s back, over his legs, finding nothing of immediate concern. One of the kid’s arms was bent awkwardly beneath him. Henry didn’t dare move it—or him—until he could see what he was doing. The back of Cael’s head had a nasty gash that was wet and filthy, but not bleeding profusely, probably more to the dirt packed in it than anything else.

  When the light played over them, Henry realized exactly how lucky they’d been. Cael was covered in the same debris that blanketed the ground, hair, clothes, skin, even his boots, blending in completely. Had it been daylight, they still wouldn’t have been able to see him. Although he and Jake were likewise covered, it hadn’t occurred to Henry what they could have been up against.

  “Dad?” Jake was staring, his voice child-like. “Is he…?”

  “He’s alive, Jake. He’s going to be fine.”

  Jake’s legs seemed to go out from under him and he sank wobbly to his knees. Henry glanced at him briefly, noting the glassiness to his gaze. “Hold the light. I need to turn him.”

  Jake nodded, steadied the headlamp in his grip.

  Reaching over Cael and under to hold his arm steady, Henry lifted Cael by the chest, rolling him by the shoulder back toward him while gently guiding his arm. He got him on his back, checking his arm first. “Wrist’s broken.” He pressed Cael’s stomach. “Soft.” Felt each rib. Cael’s face was streaked with dirt, long eyelashes coated and making them look even thicker. Henry slid his fingers gently around each contour, noting the scrapes on his cheek and a goose-egg beneath the hairline above his temple. Two head injuries within minutes of each other. He’d been unconscious for a long time. Not good.

  Jake watched silently. And earlier Henry had thought the kid could never be still. Worry streamed between them, a heavy twisting thing. “He’s in good shape, Jake. His wrist is the only thing broken.”

  “And his head,” Jake whispered.

  And his head. Henry swallowed.

  Jake lowered his palm slowly to rest on Cael’s forehead as though he’d been afraid to touch him until now. “Dad, Cael didn’t flinch when that gremlin bit into his arm. How far out of it do you have to be to not feel a gremlin biting you?”

  Henry’s fingers shook, curling into the material of Cael’s dirty jacket. He remembered the shooting pain of the creature’s teeth
piercing his thigh. He wanted to reassure Jake, didn’t know how. “We…” He cleared his tightening throat. “We need to get to the top of the slope, get out of this smoke, get a fire going and get your brother warm.”

  “We’re staying the night?” Jake sounded all of five.

  “You can’t walk out on that ankle in the dark.”

  “But you could go, get Cael out…”

  “Jake, I’m not sure I can do any better on this leg. One misstep for either of us, especially carrying Cael. Son, his head can’t take any more abuse. Besides, we need to stick together.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Think you can make it up the hill? I don’t want any of us breathing this in all night.”

  “I’ll make it.”

  “Didn’t even need to ask, did I?”

  “No, sir.” That’s my boy.

  Not wanting Cael’s wrist to dangle, Henry carried him in his arms this time. It was slow going. He couldn’t see where he stepped, had to rely on Jake splashing the way ahead with light and feeling each step. Even with Cael’s slender build, teenagers were heavy and unwieldy, long legs and his uninjured arm dangling. Except that arm was injured too. Henry had forgotten. The gremlin bit him and hadn’t that been a sight to jolt a father’s adrenaline into full gear?

  As they neared the top, the air cleared, the smoke and debris settling into the ravine. Henry spotted a good sized boulder with a nice area between several trees to get a fire going. He headed over there.

  “Jake, push a bunch of that leaf-litter in front of the rock before I lay him down.” His arms were aching, leg throbbing, but Henry held his son a while longer while Jake was on the ground, hurriedly pushing most of the fallen leaves into a pile, leaving the dirt beneath bare as he smoothed it out into a long bed.

  Grateful, Henry laid his son down. The headlamp flickered, batteries nearing their end. They’d have only the glow from the three-quarter moon left to see by. Henry exhaled, staring at his youngest’s still features, concern over how long he’d been out gnawing at him.

  Henry stood, waited for the sudden flare of pain in his leg to subside. It didn’t. He sighed. He was tired. “Jake.”

  “Yeah Dad?”

  “You still have your lighter?”

  Jake nodded. Henry smiled. “Clear an area for a fire. I’ll be right back.”

  “Here.” Jake reached up to hand Henry the waning headlamp. He didn’t have to go more than a few steps. There was plenty of broken branches and tree limbs. Henry picked the driest pieces, stacking them next to Jake who already had the beginnings of a fire going with teepee’ed twigs over dry pine needles. Henry took a couple more trips to make sure they had enough wood throughout the night. Selecting a few strips of bark he could work into splints for both boys, Henry settled once more by Cael’s side.

  Kid still hadn’t moved and the snaking fear over that slithered up Henry’s spine. “Cael? Son, can you hear me? I need you to wake up now.” He continued to murmur to him as he worked Cael’s filthy jacket off, careful of the broken wrist and then again of the bites on his other arm. The arms of Cael’s T-shirt and skin of his forearms were clean, a stark contrast to the rest of him. It almost looked like the kid wore gloves.

  Pulling the flask of holy water from the inside pocket of his jacket, Henry poured it over the bite marks. He waited, hoping that might have made Cael at least stir, but there was no reaction. The worry slinked farther up his spine.

  Jake crawled up beside him. “What can I do?”

  “Start unlacing his boots.” Cael was the only one of them without an injury to his leg, but also the one who probably wouldn’t be walking out of here on his own power. “Use the bark and laces to splint his wrist.” Henry shrugged out of his own jacket, started unbuttoning his shirt to get to his T-shirt beneath. He wished they still had the duffel that had been left behind in the cave. Some supplies would be nice about now. But when it came to a choice between their equipment and one of his sons, his child would win out every time.

  Jake had one lace out and moved to Cael’s other side to work on the other boot.

  “Do you still have your flask?”

  Jake looked up, stopped what he was doing to check his inside pocket where Henry insisted they both keep consecrated water on them. Henry pulled his T-shirt over his head and poured water over one corner of it.

  Jake pulled his flask out. “Got it. Need more?”

  Henry carefully turned Cael’s head and gingerly began cleaning out the gash. “I think I have enough. Not much I can do with this at any rate without making it bleed more. I should have enough to tend to your shoulder so we can drink whatever is left in yours. I think I felt the flask in Cael’s jacket as well, so we should be good. Jake?”

  Henry glanced up at his oldest’s uncharacteristic silence. Normally there would have been a I can pour water on my own damn shoulder outburst. Jake stared at the laces and bark in his hands like he didn’t know what to do with them. Henry leaned closer, staring at Jake over Cael’s body. Firelight reflected in Jake’s eyes. His pupils were huge. Dammit. He should have known. All the signs were there. His slower mannerisms, the way his voice sounded like a much younger child…Shock.

  “Jake, I need you to lie down. Right now.”

  His gaze filtered sluggishly upward. “Wha…? But Cael.” Forehead creased. “I need to…something…for Cael.”

  Stubborn mule, even when he was shaken and didn’t know exactly what was going on anymore. “That’s right. You need to take care of Cael. Cael’s cold. You need to lie down next to him right now and keep him warm.”

  Henry quickly moved around Cael to get to Jake. He spread more of the leaf-litter out to give Jake a place next to his brother where the cold ground wouldn’t seep up into his bones.

  “Cael’s cold?” Jake looked up at Henry, his eyes liquid and pleading to know what to do and Henry wanted to weep.

  “Lay down right here. Stay on your back.” He lifted Cael’s injured hand so it wouldn’t be jostled while wriggled on. Once Jake was settled, Henry laid his jacket over them both, keeping Cael’s hand out so he could splint it.

  Henry sank back on his heels, breathing a moment, before he set back to work. He splinted a wrist. Splinted an ankle. Washed Jake’s shoulder and then tackled the bites on his own leg. All the while Jake murmured, fidgeting in sleep, the signs of shock lessening…and Cael remained deathly still.

  By the time he’d done everything he could do for them, Henry was exhausted. He added more wood to the fire, put his long-sleeved shirt back on and sat on the other side of Cael, keeping him between himself and Jake. He leaned back against the boulder and found it surprisingly comfortable.

  His eyes felt grainy, his body tired beyond belief, his leg throbbing. He’d like nothing better than to close his heavy eyelids, give in to exhaustion, but he was his children’s vigil.

  Soft movement tugged at his aching leg. Instantly alert, Henry glanced down at the long fingers grabbing at a wrinkled fold in his jeans.

  “Cael?” he whispered. Thank God, thank God.

  The sooty head tilted upward, large eyes glimmering in the fire’s glow within the ash-caked face.

  “Wha…happen—?” Cael moaned, the muscles in his face tightening in pain, cracking lines in the dried dirt coating his features.

  “Hey, easy. C’mere.” Henry shifted Cael up higher, pulling him against his side, tucked beneath his protective arm, head on his chest. At the movement, Jake stirred, readjusting his position closer against Cael’s leg.

  Cael moved his head just enough to see what was moving against him. “Is Jake okay?”

  Henry smiled. “Hurt his ankle. He’ll be fine.”

  “And you’re okay?” But before Henry could answer, Cael whimpered, his hand curling tight onto Henry’s shirt. His bright, capable, too-reckless-for-his-own-good teenager was whimpering.

  “Is it your head?”

  Cael’s nod was infinitesimal and tight. That’s it. Al
ong with his lighter and consecrated water, he was also carrying pain meds on his person for now on too.

  Placing his large palm on Cael’s head, he started massaging, careful to not go directly over the wounds. “Does that help?”

  “A little.” Cael’s voice was small, hurting. Henry continued the slow rhythm, hoping to lull the pain away. He needed a distraction.

  “Jake mentioned you'd been to Karavel.”

  “Just before we met up with you.” A huff. "Ran out of omthrodite."

  Henry frowned. “You been plugging a lot of Hell-holes I should know about?”

  Cael snuggled in closer. “Just one. It was big.”

  O'Reilly had reported in the other day about a larger than average Hell-hole too. If that was going to be the new norm, he'd have to get more of the crystals from Celalundria to supply the squad with. Being able to go to Karavel themselves, Henry hadn't told his sons that their mother smuggled the crystals and other weapons out to him monthly. He owed Cela that much, knowing Jake would never step foot into his mother's dimension if he didn't have to make a supply run.

  “Dad?"

  The pads of Henry’s fingers kept steady pressure on Cael’s head. It seemed to be working, Cael was sinking closer into him. “

  “When Jake and I came to live with you, did Mom tell you what happened?”

  Henry frowned. He wished he could see more than just the top of the kid's head. Cael’s face was always so expressive, he could generally tell exactly what he was thinking. “Just that some of the initiates had gotten rough." Rough. They'd broken three ribs, nearly punctured a lung. And the kid's face… Henry had gotten Cael to the military hospital—the special part of the hospital that knew what his squad did and didn't bat eyes at unusual wounds and infections. Or different Anointed blood cells and anatomy.

  Cael tilted his head upward to look at him and something tugged in Henry’s chest at the trusting eyes.

  “Why?” Cael had hardly spoken about it. Henry wondered what had happened in Karavel for Cael to bring it up now. His fingers stopped moving for a moment. “Something you want to tell me, son?"

  "No."

  Which was pretty much always Cael's answer when nudged about it. Truth was, Henry suspected it had been more than an initiation mishap. He'd been in the military long enough to know the difference between accidental wounds and purposely inflicted ones. He'd just been so worried at first, and then so damn glad that he had the boys with him now, out of the Anointed dormitories where accidents couldn't touch them anymore. He hadn't pressed Cael for answers. But something obviously had recently rattled the boy, pulling out old memories that it was past time to address.

  “How’s your head?”

  “Better?” Which meant it still hurt like a mother. “Can you keep rubbing?”

  “All night, kiddo.”

  “Mmmmm.” Cael nuzzled against him the way he used to when he was small and everything inside of Henry went soft. The teen would be mortified if he wasn’t hurting so bad. Henry continued rubbing Cael’s head, slow firm strokes and he soon felt the heaviness of sleep overtake Cael’s body.

  He kept up the little massage for another thirty minutes until his hands grew tired and Cael no longer whimpered when he paused. Tucking him closer into his side, Henry rested his cheek along the top of Cael’s head to wait out the rest of the night.

  Seven