by Carol Oates
The rain abruptly halted and clouds retreated as though running away, leaving behind a clear navy sky embroidered with points of bright light casting a whitish glow over the land. I met Triona’s eyes for a heartbeat. She stared back, bemused. Confident she’d regained her calm, I raked wet hair from my face and returned my attention to the dragon observing us as if a teacher presiding over naughty school children.
“What the hell is that?” Amanda moved in close, whispering to me.
The beast’s small triangular ears twitched, and he turned his head as though he’d heard her. Smoke snorted indignantly from his nostrils, and Emma laughed. “It’s Archú.”
Sure enough, the hound was gone, and I scrutinized the beast again. Something about the shape of his head and the fuzzy gray tufts of fur poking through the scales along his spine was familiar. Even the animal’s posture, and the way it settled on the ground, reminded me of a dog.
“It’s not possible,” I murmured, although his name—Hound of Slaughter—made much more sense now. It certainly wasn’t a reflection of his formerly playful temperament.
Guinevere smirked. “I think we’ve firmly established those words have little relevance.” She held her hands up. “Before you accuse, I had no idea. I knew he was special, but this…this is exceptionally unexpected.”
“A trick!” Zeal spluttered, incensed. His words dripped with venom.
Archú puffed out a tiny draft of green flames in his direction, and Zeal flinched.
“Not a trick,” Merlin called out. “This is the beast’s true form. It is the hound which is a trick—a glamour.”
“Let’s get this over with,” John started boldly. “If it’s an exchange you’re after, I’m only too happy to oblige.”
“No!” Emma pitched forward. Arthur restrained her, wrapping his arms completely around her small frame and trapping her.
Zeal tilted his head to the side. His eyes flickered to an almost catatonic Caleb but didn’t linger. A bored countenance replaced his ire.
“I can’t ask you to do this.” Triona faced John in desperation, her cheeks ruddy from tears. Her hair, like gleaming oil, slicked down her spine from rain and dirt.
John frowned, his brown eyes sad. He released a slow breath and cupped Triona’s face in his large hands. “You aren’t asking me to do anything. This is my choice. We’re not ready. We can’t do this without someone getting hurt, or worse. I’m asking you to trust me.”
Her fingers came up and curled around his as she searched his eyes, obviously desperate for answers but unable to ask the questions because of our enemy within hearing distance. Eila and Joshua came nearer. The rest of us followed their lead as John pulled his gaze from Triona, dropping his hands by his side.
Emma sobbed, a gut-wrenching burst of despondency and grief that caused a fissure to open in my heart. She fell into John’s embrace, her bow still clutched in her fist and her knuckles white. “You can’t do this to me. Please, Johnny, you said this wouldn’t happen. You’re all I have. I can’t lose you.”
John drew back and cupped her face in the same way he had Triona’s, forcing Emma to look at him when she tried to jerk away. I understood why she didn’t want to listen. She had to feel as if John was abandoning her, throwing her over to rescue Caleb. Caleb was nothing to Emma—just a guy someone once chose over her brother.
John had planned this all along. He’d said as much and was buying us time so we’d all walk away from this with our lives.
“You have to stick close to Ben,” John insisted, his eyes just a little wild. “He will take care of you. He’ll be your big brother until we can be together again.”
“No,” she wailed, her face scrunched up in a grimace. All her fight and bluster was depleted, leaving the innocence of a child in agony.
My pulse tripped. I wrapped my arms around Amanda by my side and tried to ignore the taste of salt on my tongue. She whimpered into my chest. This was a deadly situation with no immediate way out. Sure we could take some of them down with us, but at what cost? Which of us was I prepared to sacrifice? At least this way, we might stand a chance later. John knew that.
“You sure about this?” I asked.
His eyes glazed, and his Adam’s apple jumped in his throat when he nodded. I studied him closely, watching for any waver. If he doubted himself at all, I’d have stopped him. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself afterward.
John didn’t hesitate. He shook Emma gently by the shoulders, appearing to focus his emotion on her, not what he was about to do.
“I love you, Emma, and I promise you with everything I am that we will see each other again.” His voice cracked.
Amanda tapped my back, and when I dipped my head, I saw her front teeth pressed into the plump flesh of her bottom lip. Air turned to ice in my lungs when her damp eyelashes fluttered and a fat tear rolled over her cheek. She tapped my back again, nudging me toward Emma. I didn’t hesitate.
I had no idea why John had chosen me as Emma’s surrogate brother, but I knew I had to help her now.
I placed my hands securely beneath John’s on Emma’s arms. Annice comforted Triona, standing close by her side, otherwise I thought Triona might move to stop John herself. The instant John broke eye contact with his sister, she became aware of my hold on her and struggled against me as I maneuvered her away.
“Do it,” he ordered.
“Get your rotten paws off me,” she screamed and scratched at my arms with her free hand.
“It will be okay,” John mouthed to her.
“My patience is waning,” Zeal announced. A cocky jerk of his head instructed his man to drag Caleb toward the center line.
Caleb’s feet faltered. He staggered as if inebriated but managed to stay upright. When he neared the line, he squinted at us across the remaining divide. His eyes cleared for a fraction of a second, and I thought I saw him smile. His handler let him go, and Caleb dropped to his knees but didn’t fall over to the ground, although it appeared to take immense determination.
Samuel slapped John lightly on the shoulder. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Save it for the after-party,” John responded in a dry, positive tone.
I held onto Emma, conscious of my strength. A little late, it occurred to me what “do it” meant. I sank into my remaining energy and lowered my mouth next to Emma’s ear. It took effort with her wriggling and her quiver digging into my stomach, keeping me from pulling her fully against me. I thought about what I wanted in that minute and what I really wanted was for Emma to calm.
“Emma, listen to me. You need to relax. Take a breath. Calm down.” I spoke the words clearly and slowly, contemplating my will as I envisioned ribbons of smoke encircling us. She complied faster than I expected, going soft in my arms. Perhaps losing control wasn’t her natural state, and that’s why it didn’t take much effort to bring her out of it.
Amanda curled her arms around both of us, and at once, Emma twirled into her hug, leaving me standing beside them empty handed.
John turned to Merlin. “Don’t let me down.” A hint of nervousness snuck into John’s voice.
Merlin’s brow puckered. “This is the right decision.”
John gave Emma a final, weak smile before he turned away and began moving toward the place where Caleb was still kneeling on the grass, his head lowered.
Zeal’s grin widened and Archú snuffled, settling his snout on his front legs. John walked several unhurried paces before he stopped dead. His shoulders heaved dramatically, and he tilted his head back, staring up at the sky.
“What’s he doing?” I wondered aloud. No one answered.
Then, with a tortured cry, he turned back. A rush of whispers chased over the no-man’s-land between the two groups, like wind rustling through autumn leaves. The hulk guarding Caleb glanced back to Zeal, obviously awaiting instructions. Zeal, with curiosity in his expression, raised a hand telling him to wait.
John’s strides were long and confident
, and he crossed the distance in half the time, coming to a halt in front of Triona. She swiped at her crimson cheeks. She had to be confused. She didn’t want Zeal to have John any more than she wanted him to have Caleb. His eyes burned with determination and excitement, more nervous now than when he left. Emma remained silent, maybe suspecting the same thing I did. He hadn’t changed his mind. This was something else.
“No matter how this ends up, I know I won’t get another chance, so…” Without further explanation and amid collective gasps, John covered Triona’s mouth with his.
The kiss wasn’t gentle either. One hand wound around Triona’s neck under her soaking hair, and the other slid down the length of her spine. She didn’t push him away as I would have expected, considering Caleb’s family surrounded them. After a moment hesitation, Triona clung to him, folding into his embrace and hooking her arms under his shoulders. It lacked the raw tension I’d witnessed between them in the basement, seeming more desperate than deliberate. Like a last breath. I wasn’t about to intervene, nor did anyone else. Samuel and Annice averted their eyes uncomfortably. How could they say anything? John was about to save their son. I wanted to avert my gaze, feeling slightly embarrassed by the display of affection. There was something not right about us witnessing a very personal farewell.
Triona drew back first. John rested his forehead against hers and neither of them spoke a word. He pressed a final kiss to the top of her head, scrunching his eyes closed for a fraction of a second before he took off running. Upon reaching Caleb, he dropped to one knee. He didn’t touch him or speak, and since John kept his back to us, it was impossible to read anything in his expression. When he stood again, he didn’t look back. The two men walked away from Caleb toward the other people gathered on the shoreline.
It felt as though we’d been out here for hours, and I shivered in my wet clothes. I’d neglected to put my watch on when Samuel woke us, but I estimated it was near midnight by now. As if on cue, my hollow stomach growled in protest. Emma and Amanda had to be emotionally shattered and exhausted.
We were too distracted by the events before us to spot that Emma had edged away from Amanda. I heard a ping and looked up to see an arrow whistling through the air. We parted around her. She scowled defiantly, the bow still in her extended arm, watching the arrow arch midway between the two groups. Zeal planted himself right in its path. It wouldn’t kill him—only destroying his heart would do that. It might slow him down. However, Zeal’s eyes followed the arrow with an expression of vague disinterest. He must have been an excellent judge of distance and trajectory because the tip swished over John’s head and pierced the ground inches from Zeal’s feet. He looked down and lifted his head just enough to see us from under his eyelashes and to show us his disparaging smirk.
“You missed,” Guinevere observed, sounding surprised.
“No, I didn’t,” Emma responded, any inflection in her tone absent.
Zeal didn’t waste any more time, and John was swallowed up by a sea of faces dissolving into mist. The cloud lifted into the air, blew out over the water, and vanished into the distance.
As if suddenly snapped out of a trance, Triona blinked and rushed to Caleb.
Chapter 24
Consequences
TRIONA COLLAPSED TO THE GROUND a few feet from Caleb and slid the rest of the way, crashing into him.
“Caleb. Caleb,” she said his name repeatedly as the rest of us crouched around them. Triona’s hands traveled all over him, checking for injuries, whispering his name through grief-stricken tears.
He was unresponsive to her touch and the sound of her voice beckoning him. It appeared he was unable to comprehend our existence at all. He’d squinted earlier, or maybe I’d only seen what I wanted. Up close he looked worse than he had from a distance. His skin had taken on a chalky complexion, and his shallow breathing stuttered unevenly. I struggled to pick out his heartbeat over the others around me. It was there, but only just.
Joshua helped Triona lay him on the grass. Triona removed her jacket and placed it under his head, skimming her fingertips over his sunken cheeks. The vibrancy of his eyes had faded from sapphire to a dull, flat, blue-gray and stared vacantly.
“What’s wrong with him?” Triona’s fraught gaze searched our faces, pleading for someone to give her an answer. No one replied because no one knew.
Merlin edged to the front of our group, and Arthur assisted him in lowering to the grass. He shouldered Joshua out of the way, not bothering with pleasantries, and began to examine Caleb.
“What is it? What’s wrong with him?” Annice asked no one in particular. Her face was pale and drawn, her groomed eyebrows squeezed together with a small pucker between.
Samuel’s expression reflected hers, except with the addition of his tense jaw muscles hopping when he swallowed.
Guinevere sidled up beside them and offered a careful smile. “Give him a moment. Merlin will know what to do.”
I doubted her sincerity. I guessed she wanted to keep panic from getting out of control until we knew more. The adrenaline levels couldn’t get any higher.
Merlin checked Caleb’s eyes, retracting the skin below them with his thumb, one at a time. He flattened one palm to Caleb’s neck and used the other to turn his head. It was then I noticed the black substance leaking from his ears. At first glance I thought it was blood, but it was too dark and gloopy, the consistency of tar. There were traces around his nostrils too, and when Merlin opened Caleb’s mouth, his tongue and his gums were black. I had to presume the black smeared on his face and chest was the same gunk.
“He is poisoned,” Merlin said matter-of-factly. A chilling fierceness radiated from him as he remained very much in the moment with us for a change. “We should move him inside.”
“Poisoned with what?” Triona’s voice lifted in disbelief.
Nausea clawed up my throat. What kind of psychopath would do this to someone? “Is that why he’s not healing?”
“Inside,” Merlin repeated, using his cane to push himself up.
Samuel kissed Annice on the head and sucked in a deep breath. He hunched down and scooped Caleb up like a small child into his arms. Amanda tilted her head and gave me a reassuring smile, allowing me to leave her so she could comfort Emma while I escorted Triona inside.
As it turned out, Zeal had used jet stone to keep Caleb weak and to keep his connection to Triona dampened. Only Zeal didn’t stop at surrounding him with it. Merlin said the substance corrupted Caleb’s blood. Zeal forced it inside him through injections based on the angry needle marks running down the side of his neck. Likely through forced ingestion too, since he threw up black when Annice tried to get him to take water. The black gunk was his body rejecting it and trying to remove the jet dust from his system. After our experience beneath Camelot, I understood his current state better.
I had waited in Triona’s—Triona and Caleb’s room I supposed, while Eila escorted Arthur and Merlin to retrieve white quartz. The old magic man said he needed the mineral to counter the effect. He informed us this wouldn’t be difficult, and the mineral in raw form could be found locally. Amanda was comforting Emma. This left me with Triona and Annice.
This was a grander room than ours. Caleb lay in an elaborate and surprisingly short mahogany four-post bed with wine-colored, gauzy curtains drifting from a full canopy. It appeared antique, fitting in with the rest of the pieces in the ostentatious room. Except for the woven rugs covering the floor and heavy velvet curtains edged with tassels, which were clear reproductions based on the vibrancy of the colors, the originals would have long been faded and worn. Two small fabric couches faced each other in front of a polished, soapstone hearth. A fire blazed, orange flames licking high. Merlin said it would do Caleb good to sweat. After our time in the freezing cold, the fire felt good.
Like our room, it had an en-suite bathroom, which seemed to have been a later addition to the house. The plumbing was old but far too modern for the building.
Triona e
merged from the bathroom with another bowl of water and fresh towels. She’d wiped Caleb down several times already, yet more back liquid seeped from his ears. It came from his pores too, to a lesser degree, giving him the pasty gray appearance. Despite his body clearly fighting to rid itself of the poison, his wounds appeared no better, and he remained in a state of oblivion.
I tapped my index finger rhythmically on the footboard of the bed. It calmed me a little until Triona shot me an irritated glare.
“What the hell is keeping them?” she murmured, lost again in her own thoughts.
Annice bit down on her bottom lip and stood abruptly from her chair at the opposite side of the bed. She went over to one of the couches and began to unfold and refold some clean sheets left there. There was no point in placing them on the bed yet. I went to her and placed a hand on her shoulder hoping to offer her comfort. Annice smiled up at me, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“I’ve never been in this position before, but I don’t know how to rationalize this to myself. I can’t make myself understand why this is happening.” She kept her voice low though Triona would still be able to hear her if she wanted to.
Annice had an uncanny ability to help things make sense. She had told both Triona and me that our role in the future was to live our lives and show how Guardians and humans didn’t have to fear each other. It seemed many Guardians now saw us as the threat instead of the solution thanks to Zeal.
“This will work out. It will. Merlin will fix Caleb. Zeal will show himself to be the lunatic his is, and we’ll get John back,” I said.
She patted my hand and sighed.
The door opened and Guinevere came in with Eila. Each carried a tray with a silver dome, a side salad, a tall glass of water, and warm bread judging by the aroma.
“Emrys has what he needs. He’s preparing it now,” Guinevere said.
“Samuel sent food up for you and Triona. He expected you wouldn’t leave Caleb’s side. Merlin suggested the rest of us should eat downstairs to give Caleb quiet to rest.”
