by Nya Rawlyns
Brother.” Eirik sat heavily on a stone sarcophagus and glared at his sibling. “Why did you do that to him?”
“Because I love him, you old fool. I know him better than you think. What I did, well … I did it for him. He hated the battles, the blood and the stain on his soul. It slowly ate at him, destroying him in front of my eyes. And…”
“And what?”
Gunnarr fidgeted and thrust his hands in the pockets of his jeans, unwilling to
meet his brother’s eyes.
“Gunnarr?”
“He would never have survived Bryn.”
“Bryn? What about him? I don’t…” Eirik’s voice trailed off and he stared hard at Gunnarr. “You don’t mean… Oh shit, no. He didn’t.”
Gunnarr growled, “No, thank the gods. I kept them apart as best I could, but I
could see where it was going. It was a matter of time.”
“Sweet Freyja. Was Trey aware of Bryn’s perversion?”
“I don’t think so, but I’ll never be sure. We have a small problem now.”
Eirik barked a laugh. “I thought that was my line.”
“This isn’t funny, Eirik. Bryn’s gone. When he realized it was Trey at that cock up at headquarters, he took off and we haven’t seen him since.”
“Shit, shit, shit. Do you want me to get my people on it? I don’t have any way to track him but we’ll do…” Eirik paused as Gunnarr handed him a small device. “What’s this?”
“This is how you track him, Brother, but do it discreetly. We must not let our
people know that we work together on this matter. It might lead to complications.”
“Understood.” Eirik accepted the tracking module, fingering it idly as he
considered his next words. “You know my people will dissect this thing.”
“Of course, but it makes little difference. I want my sons returned, Eirik, both of them. In one piece if at all possible.”
“Agreed. Then there is another matter.”
“Hmm, I wondered when you would get to that.” Gunnarr, moved toward his
brother and muttered, “Move over. I need to sit. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
Eirik smirked but scooted over, making room for the bear of a man. “We need to
return home soon. Refresh. This dimension, the stress, the antagonisms and constant feuding drain my soul. I long for peace, Gunnarr.”
Gunnarr placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder and sighed, “As do I.”
“So?”
“All right. This is what I know. We have a genuine shape shifter on our hands. Or, at least we did. We knew of a family of gifteds. Powerful, with extraordinary abilities, varying in degree and type. We managed to conscript the father, used his talents, but it fell apart and he threatened certain of my interests.”
“Yes, I know the broad outlines of this. I also know that you used his wife to
infiltrate and destroy my headquarters.” Eirik allowed a measure of anger into his voice as he spat, “And I expect restitution when this is over.”
“Whatever. Table that for now. We lost the asset.”
“She’s dead.”
“Damn it, Eirik. You didn’t!”
“No, you did, you fool … or at least your trigger-happy outlaws did. Trey took her 74
through a Portal and tried to save her but she chose the warrior’s way. That little stunt is what caused my nephew, and your son, to finally break with his realities.”
“That explains it then.”
“Explains what, dammit.”
“Trey took the woman, the shifter, that night. We screwed up, okay? She escaped
but we were close to getting her back when my son interfered and spirited her away. We assumed he used a Portal. We have several in the area, but you know that already. We put traces out but none of the jump points had been used recently. He vanished in a puff of smoke and I still don’t know how he did it.”
Eirik snickered, “I do. He drove.”
Gunnarr looked at his brother dumbfounded. “Drove?”
“A Porsche, no less.”
Gunnarr stared at his elder brother, slack-jawed.
“We thought he went south to Atlanta. We were wrong.”
“Do you have any clues?”
Eirik nodded. “We think he ended up in Wyoming. He knows a man there, a
friend of sorts. Trey doesn’t know that we are aware of that. Anyway, we sent a team to look for him. I’m suspecting he found a Portal not in our catalogue.”
Gunnarr said, “So the rumours are true. I suspected as much. That’s the other
reason I sent him to you—you and your intellectual snobs of scientists.”
“The thing is, if we find the jump point, we can track him to whatever dimension he bolted with his cargo. But a lot of time has passed. We could easily lose him and the woman in some trackless wasteland.”
“I think I can help you with that.”
“Oh?”
“My organization has access to certain, uh, military grade materiel. Single man
copters, specialized instruments adapted for harsh environments. I will put a team at your disposal, with limited accountability to you and your people. Will that suit?”
“Most generous. There will be no wards on that Portal so the retrieval team will have unlimited access.” Eirik eased off the stone crypt and straightened with difficulty.
“You know we risk a lot by doing this. If word gets out…”
“It will be up to us to see that we have containment. Are you willing…?”
Eirik shook his head yes, then held out his hand. “Truce for now, Gunnarr?”
Gunnarr shook the older man’s hand, agreeing to the terms. “Truce. Bring me my
boy, Eirik, and I will be in your debt.”
“No debt bond, Brother. We’ll bring him back for both of us. Gods willing.”
****
“Oh, dear God! Trey? Trey!” Caitlin screamed, her howl of fear echoing off the sheer cliff faces. There was no sign of him after his precipitous plunge into the murky depths.
She waded along the ledge, frantically counting off ‘a thousand one, a thousand
two’ in a metronome of panic. She had no sure way of telling time but at least seven minutes had passed since he’d disappeared under the surface. No one could survive that long. Her fears of monsters lurking unseen seemed not so fanciful now.
“Trey. Please. Don’t leave me. I can’t be alone.” She sobbed her anguish and
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howled to the gods, “I hate you. I hate you. I…” She buried her face in her hands, her body wracked with agony and terror at the prospect of facing life abandoned, alone, without him.
“Caitlin? What’s the matter? It’s okay, everything is fine.” Trey wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close and rocking her body gently as she sobbed away her fear.
“I thought I lost you. No one can survive that long without oxygen.” She pressed her face into his massive chest, moaning, “I can’t lose you. I can’t.”
Trey stroked her cheek and nuzzled her hair. “I’m sorry, so sorry. I can hold my breath for longer than, uh, normal. Um, I’ve got special diving abilities.” The man floundered, as if he desperately wanted to avoid the whole ‘I’m-not-exactly-human’
issue, something she’d long suspected but carefully buried to keep her sanity intact With exaggerated care he steered her toward the stony beach and said, “Come on.
Let’s go back to the shore.”
Caitlin clung like a leech, her arm wrapped tightly around his waist. She managed to ask, “What did you find down there? You were down so long.”
“A cave, fairly big too. No air space, but I think at some point it might have been open. I couldn’t see much. Had to go by feel. Damn this dimension and me being half blind.” Trey settled her on a patch of grass near where they’d piled their clothing and sat beside her. He felt around for his glasses and slid them on with a sigh. “Th
at’s better. I have no idea where the water came from. I couldn’t go far enough back to trace if that was the source for this pond. Even I have my limits.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay, Aiden.” She startled, realizing her mistake. “I’m sorry, I meant Trey.”
“Doesn’t matter. Whatever you want to call me. I’m yours, whatever name you
use. I always will be.” Trey gently shoved her back onto grass and loomed over her, a frown creasing his brow. “I want to ask you something.”
Caitlin looked into his deep brown eyes, puzzled. “Ask what?”
He hesitated, debating if this was the time. His gut said yes, his brain cautioned wait. “Never mind. We need rest. I have no idea when moonrise occurs and I need to think how we’re going to deal with that. There’s not much in the way of shelter that I can see.”
“But you said, ‘Never sleep during the day, never.’”
“That’s why you’re going to sleep while I keep watch and come up with a plan.”
He tried not to let her see his concern. The oasis had been their salvation, though without food he didn’t know how much longer they could last. He’d found no fish on his underwater excursion, though with his confounded myopia a great white shark could have glided past and he’d never have seen the damn thing.
What was even more troubling was the complete absence of Portals. That had
been unexpected. Normally, the dimensions sported several, often clustered. The
scientists had no explanation for why that was so, but on many worlds the convergent energies invited settlements. On earth almost all of the Portals could be found in urban centers, a convenience his clan and Greyfalcon exploited freely.
He’d managed to evade capture for far longer than expected but now that they
had finally latched onto their hideaway, he wasn’t certain what steps to take next. He couldn’t even be sure who pursued them. If it were Eirik, how had he gotten hold of the technology? Why had he lied about using it in other dimensions? Had Bryn been
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operating alone, or had his father sent him in to reconnoiter? What was the possibility that both factions had set aside their differences in order to secure a prize each considered a treasure beyond calculation?
Caitlin snored lightly next to him. Despite the heat, he gathered her in his arms.
He didn’t know why he had hesitated to ask the question. Did he fear she would refuse?
They would die here, that was all too clear to him now. The oasis was a deathtrap, surrounded on all sides by mirror-surfaced slopes, a last tease—a wicked, ugly ray of hope—before slamming them with moonrise and the predators that would tear them to pieces. Caitlin shifted slightly and Trey wrapped her tightly to his chest. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he swore, “I’ll never leave you. I swear it, on my life.”
Caitlin whispered, “Why?”
“Because you are mine.”
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Chapter Thirteen
Caitlin stretched and yawned, her body aching from lying in one position too
long. She had no idea of the time but long shadows from the few straggly trees extended to the shoreline. The pond still reflected the intense silver-white light, leaving water and sky to meld seamlessly like a curtain that wavered with desultory grace across her line of sight. She could see to the far side of the bowl that nestled their oasis, the slab-sided mountain brilliant in hues of pale grays streaked with flat white and mottled with darker, indistinct shades—almost like the bark of a birch tree. It had a far less metallic look than the opposite face, the one they’d slalomed down so recklessly.
Caitlin listened to the munching behind her. The mule and horse had wandered
in their search for grass, that bounty quickly disappearing as they greedily inhaled every morsel. She could see where they had stripped the dry leaves off the nearest bushes, though the stunted trees remained intact. They would eat the more desirable bits first.
At least that’s what Trey had told her.
She gingerly felt her lips, still cracked and peeling but not quite as bad now that they’d had a chance to hydrate, if hydrate was the right word. Drinking the gelatinous fluid was like slurping weak, lukewarm oatmeal, tasteless but filled with bits of unknown substances that scraped the throat on the way down. She’d long forgotten what hunger felt like, the gnawing stabs of pain through the gut, the obsessive daydreams of tasty morsels in a ‘when we’ and ‘if only’ fantasy world. The sludge managed to trick her into feeling satisfied, though there was another element to that and she would need to think on it carefully.
She glanced over at the man sprawled on his back, snoring softly. He’d flung an
arm over his eyes, sending his wire-framed glasses onto his cheek, the dark stubble prickly and uneven, outlining faint scars. Odd how that attracted her, the roughness, as if he couldn’t look dangerous enough with his perpetual scowl and square jaw and don’t fuck with me demeanour. Despite his cautions against sleeping during the day and his promise to guard her while she rested, he’d succumbed to his body’s demands. That made him vulnerable and, once more, oddly boyish.
Caitlin sat up and searched for her clothing. The shadows gave the illusion of
coolness though sweat still trickled down her back and her upper lip beaded water that her tongue hungrily lapped. At least it gave the sensation of fluid, not some industrial waste sludge. The clothing lay to her right, piled neatly. Nothing the man did was careless. Everything seemed controlled, wound tight, yet she sensed looseness about him, underneath the façade, the shell he wore to protect himself … but from what?
Surely not her, he’d manipulated everything about her. Her attraction, then all-
consuming desire, had finally crossed the line into hopeless attachment and
acquiescence to his every nuanced movement and demand. Her fantasy had become her sole reason to exist. He’d played her. Yet it seemed not an idle exercise. It had purpose.
She grappled with the stray thoughts, seeking resolution, perhaps understanding.
It bordered on a wasted moment, an unraveling of threads and she wasn’t wholly happy to lose that tight-knit web binding her to him. She slipped the peasant dress over her shoulders and smoothed the bodice but left the attached corset device untied with the 78
loose lengths of leather dangling below her waist. She felt and looked flat chested without the tight device jacking her small breasts into a semblance of bulbous mounds with cleavage. She’d trade that vanity any day for a deep breath of clean, cool air. Her ribs still ached in that phantom way with injuries, her mind latching onto muscle memory. Why she should so focus on pain as if it were a pleasantry to be savoured like fine wine escaped her.
Pain. Aiden, now Trey, it was impossible to disentangle one from the other. She
craved the one, the man. The pain was the bitter pill, the pathway to her heart’s desire.
Without the pain, the other would vanish leaving her a wraith, the walking dead, formless and transparent.
“What are you thinking about?”
The question startled her. He’d ghosted behind her. She’d not sensed him and
that was unusual, as she always seemed attuned to his every move, even his heartbeat synched with hers as he closed on her. That left a hole in her chest, a vacuum that wishing wouldn’t fill. He might as well have taken his knife and gutted her.
“You,” she husked, “how did you do that?”
Trey asked, the worry in his voice clear, “How did I do what?”
She wasn’t prepared to follow that line of thought directly so she asked instead,
“Have you heard of the Stockholm Effect?”
Trey looked puzzled. It was obvious he didn’t know what she was talking about,
but the seriousness of her tone alerted him to the importance of the question. When in doubt he always reverted to silence, so it was no surprise when he simply moved to stand against her, his hands gently stroking her bare arms.
She continued, “It’s something that happens with hostages. They begin to identify with their captor, get to thinking they’re friends, that sort of thing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The hostage will feel, oh I don’t know … positive, drawn to the person, or they’ll think that if the captor doesn’t hurt them, then there’s a bond between them.”
“So?” Trey pressed his chest against her slim back as he skimmed her hips with
his palms, the fabric bunched under his hands, floating frictionless across her bare thighs. She smiled. She hadn’t bothered with the diaper he’d fashioned so quickly. His wandering hands and thickening cock convinced her that she had his undivided
attention.
Caitlin hissed a breath as he continued stroking her flesh, using the cloth to
cushion and sooth the bruises. The rush of anticipated pain flooded her senses, but weakened and disappeared in a wash of lust as he teased with approach, then retreat, each pass resulting in almost a physical pressure between her legs. An itch she longed to scratch … or to have him ease her over the edge. Her thoughts fractured but she
gathered them and restarted. She, he, had to understand what bound them together if they were to survive.
“That isn’t what happened with us.” She knew he needed further explanation but
the whisper of his breath on her neck and the soft laving of his tongue along her collarbone distracted her from the point she was trying to make. “You,” she faltered but knew the words needed saying, no matter the consequences, “abused me. I should have hated you for that.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Yes, but…”
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“But what?” The question hung for an eternity between them.
Measuring time to the beats of his heart thudding in his chest, he fought the
vertigo and a strange light-headed feeling. He’d stood alone so long, constructing barricades against his own feelings and following orders. A machine. Now all he could think was how much he needed her. She’d said the word he’d never thought to hear; she’d said us. Perhaps he had cause for hope, but caution intervened so he waited for her to continue. He would need to ask the question. Soon. He prayed for her assent and he feared what his body might do if she denied him.
