97 (Rise of the Battle Bred)

by V. L. Holt

  “William!” His father shouted from somewhere in the house. William could feel the jolt of his father’s heavy steps approach his room. His door opened and the lights turned on. His father literally filled the doorway.

  “Dad,” He said.

  Jacob McLeod folded his huge arms and looked down at him. William knew he resembled his father in both appearance and size, but he still felt intimidated by him. Especially when he wore the expression he had on now. It was his ‘I’m uncomfortable talking to you but I’m going to anyway’ look. He began.

  “I know this is hard.”

  William frowned at his father but didn’t speak.

  “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” Jacob asked.

  William just shrugged.

  Jacob relaxed his pose a bit. “I’m going to figure this out. We’re going to be able to stay longer this time.”

  William sat up in his bed. “How?” he refused to allow room for hope in his voice. He had no more reason to stay here than any other place. None.

  “I figured out a way to contact a few of the others. We need to stand together. The Warlochs have divided and conquered long enough. We need to do what we were bred to do. We need to fight!”

  “You mean you need to fight,” William said bitterly.

  “We’ve been over this, William,” Jacob said. “You must see the logic in my decision.”

  William nodded slowly. This was a new side to his father. He was used to their original plan…lay low, don’t make waves, keep a watch out for the predators and fight until death. And then do it again. And again. And again. But after the last battle, his father had changed, and he had changed. He had a lot more to lose now.

  “The Old Ones thought that splitting everyone up and scattering them throughout the globe was a good strategy. I’ve had enough time, and enough deaths, to realize the strategy is not working. We need to gather everyone in. We need to work together and fight the battle that should have been fought a couple thousand years ago,” Jacob said with fervor. “I’ve been in communication with some others. They agree.”

  William schooled his features to show no emotion, much as he had done for his whole life. “The code worked.”

  Jacob nodded slowly, a small smile about to glimmer on his hardened face. “Our people are slowly coming around to the truth. And anyone dialed in to the World Wide Web will be gradually finding the Easter eggs I’ve left at strategic websites. I’ve set up a handful of secure email addresses, and I’m getting responses every day.”

  “Easter eggs?” William asked.

  “You remember. Messages stored in hidden icons,” Jacob told him.

  “That’s what the code was for…” William felt a stirring of hope in his chest. He stared at his father as if seeing him for the first time. The weariness of his features had taken on the look of determination instead. His battle-hardened body stood even taller in the doorframe of William’s room. He knew his father better than anyone else on the planet, but seeing this fervor from him pricked his heart.

  They were both tired of running, but there was something else burning inside of his dad. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Before he felt the connection fade between them, William spoke.

  “I can see someone’s path here,” He said.

  Jacob’s head jerked up. “What?”

  “As soon as we hit the town’s boundaries, the main streets, I could see a path. It’s everywhere,” He was carefully meting out the information, trying to gauge his father’s reaction. How much he would tell him remained to be seen.

  Jacob entered William’s room with a step.

  “Just one path, or any others?”

  “Just one,” William swallowed, but didn’t reveal anything else yet. He thought of the pink swirling all over, and the paths intersecting in the hallways at school. She was a senior; she’d been attending the school for four years. The pink was layered brighter in places she spent a lot of time in, so naturally the library, (her favorite subject was English, after all) and the bike rack outside the school glowed with her essence.

  “Eventually you’ll probably meet him. It’s a small town. Interesting that you see this one now. I could only see my parents’ paths and your mother’s.”

  Jacob’s eyes closed as he seemed to be recalling his wife. He shook his head. “The Old Ones say that there is a genetic component to this ability. Something about the rods and cones in our eyes being attuned to DNA strands in others. Of course, the early Warriors didn’t know about genetics and physiology.” He smiled.

  “Her,” William said. “I already met her. She lives on our street; she goes to my school.”

  Jacob lowered himself to a stranded folding chair in his son’s room. “Well, I’ll be. Is she pretty?” Jacob grinned at him.

  William was unsure how to respond to his father’s teasing. This was unusual for him. Then again, planning on engaging the Lochspawn was unusual too. It seemed to bring a side out in his father that was more carefree, more vital. He gave a short nod.

  Jacob’s smile grew broader. He must have sensed William’s discomfort, however, because he said nothing more and stood to leave.

  “I’ll fight with you,” William told his father.

  Jacob didn’t look back as he left the room. “Oh, I know you would, son. I know you would. But you’re not going to if I have anything to do with it.”

  17

  Zarastrid’s Log Day 260

  Year of Our Loch 107

  Due to Zainel’s efforts, we were able to save all but three lives. We lost two mothers and one babe. Zainel spent an entire day pacing and moaning while holding the lone babe that didn’t survive its birth. The mothers are all resting now, but very somber. A morose fog has settled over the Coven.

  Such losses were not anticipated.

  I deem it safe to approach Agnes’ cell today. The Coven appreciated the concessions I made with regard to giving equal attention to the others during the birthings. Zeko stopped breathing down my neck when I showed such restraint. (Which is to say, no attention to Agnes whatsoever.) I expect she will flay me with her wrath.

  I hired a woman in the closest village to sew a special cloth for the babe. I hope Agnes accepts my feeble gift.

  Zeko inspected every baby, pinching thighs, counting fingers and toes and judging the strength of their grips. He is pleased with the results.

  Zyrick watches from afar, and plays with his powders and packages from the Far East. He has only limited interest in our Pact, preferring to pursue his ambitions of discovering a weapon so horrible as to render its owner undefeatable.

  Zimini’s cell configuration allows for a central courtyard where the women have fellowshipped one another over the past 200 days. Now he is constructing homes of a sort. The women have shown no desire to return to their previous lives. They will be rewarded for their contribution to the Coven’s Pact by having small homes where they can raise the boys. One mother will be chosen to raise the extra infant, but for the time being, he is being passed around to whoever is the least tired.

  I will go to see Agnes now. I wonder if she will forgive me?

  18

  William shook me roughly, and the sound coming out of his mouth was some kind of high-pitched keening. I stared at his handsome rugged face trying to figure it out. Then I woke up, and it was my stupid phone ringing. Crady slept like the dead, so she didn’t even stir while my phone continued its screeching. I tossed aside covers and pillows and feather boas until I found it. It was my cousin.

  “Hey,” I croaked.

  “Jane,” It sounded like my cousin, but he was kind of whispering.

  “Yeah, Mick, what’s up?” I asked.

  “Jane,” There was another sound like a cough and gurgle.

  I popped out of bed. “Mick, where are you?” I asked in a panic. He didn’t sound right, and he wasn’t the kind of kid to pull a prank.

  “Paper. Route,” Another cough.

  “Oh God,” I prayed out loud.
“Mick, stay on the phone. I’m coming to get you,” I kicked Crady in the butt. “Crady, get up! There’s something wrong with Mick. Tell mom he’s on the route,” I had the phone to my ear, and I was scrambling around the disaster that was my room, looking for my shoes. Damn my shoes. I left my room and banged on mom’s door. “Mom! Call 911! Mick’s hurt!” I ran to the garage and banged the open button with my fist. “Mick. Talk to me,” I heard him breathing. As the garage door opened, I grabbed my bike. I got on, my bare feet feeling the pricks of the grips on the pedals, but I didn’t care. I cleared the slowly rising door and sped out in the direction where I thought he might be.

  Without knowing for sure, I followed my instincts. The clock in my room had said 4:47am. That would put him around by the neighborhood just one street over. Kind of by the park, actually. I rode like a demon out of hell, the cold morning air whipping through me like a sieve. I was wearing just a tank top and loose pajama pants. My hair was in a braid down my back, so at least that wasn’t in my face. “Mick!”

  “Here,” His breathing sounded ragged. “The park.”

  “I’m almost there. Hang on,” I said. I could actually feel the adrenaline firing my veins as I rode the fastest I’ve ever done.

  “Don’t. Come,” Mick said over the phone.

  “What? Like hell I’m not coming!” I shouted into the phone.

  Mick and I were like brother and sister. His mom and my mom were foster sisters, so they got close. He was two years younger than me. He had begged me for two months for my weekend paper route.

  I finally relented when I realized I could use a little break, and besides, I knew he could use a few extra bucks. Plus, he would occasionally give me a ride to school in his crappy Toyota pickup truck when it was raining. I was almost there. Mailboxes blurred by as I soared along. I aimed for the curb to jump it when I approached the field.

  Impossibly, my tire hit the curb at a wrong angle, and my bike pitched upward, sending me flying. I didn’t even have time to let out the curse word that was on my tongue. I had never wrecked in all the years I’ve been riding, and yet I hit the road, my skin papering the pavement when I rolled. I didn’t feel anything, since I was jacked up on adrenaline. And maybe that could explain the rush of heat that I felt certain had washed over me alongside a giant blur. I got up and started running across the field towards the playground. My phone was somewhere on the road, no doubt.

  Before I could get far, strong arms grabbed me from behind. A deep voice whispered in my ear,” Don’t move. I’ll get him,” Then the warm embrace was gone; the misty chill in the air hit me like a blast. The sweat on my skin froze me and then I felt the abrasions from my wreck. I didn’t care though; I was watching the playground. Two figures joined and separated in a macabre dance of flashing steel and blue flames and sparks. Sirens blared suddenly on the street, and I ran back to the sidewalk to wave the ambulance in. I waved frantically, and once they saw me, they pulled up to the curb, just missing my crashed bike.

  “Are you all right, Miss?” A paramedic asked me. I looked down and realized I was covered in blood.

  “It’s not me! My cousin!” I turned and started across the field. I expected to see the two figures again, but there was only one. It looked like…William.

  He stood over another dark shape.

  I reached them, my breaths coming in deep gasps now. “Mick!” My cousin lay upon the ground. In the dim light of the rising sun, I could make out his features. He grimaced. Blood smeared his face and upper arms.

  I saw his bike leaning against the swings, and papers scattered all over the tan bark of the playground. I knelt down and stroked his face. “What happened?”

  The paramedics gently pushed me aside. “Let us get to him, Miss,” One of them said. They brought out their equipment, and I watched helplessly as they prodded Mick for his wounds. They asked him what hurt.

  I stood and William came around to me. He was breathing hard too, and looked at me with a strange expression on his face. “What?” I asked him. I kept looking at Mick and the paramedics, trying to gauge what was going on.

  William spoke. “He should be fine.”

  I’m sure my brows were meeting my hairline. “How do you know? What are you doing here?” I recalled the blur rushing past me, and the heat I felt from a warm body. And William telling me to stay where I was. “How did you know I was here?”

  William still looked at me, concern etching his face. He reached up as if to stroke my cheek, but then his hand fell back to his side. “I saw you racing past my house. I thought you might need help.”

  “What were you doing up this early?” I asked him. I tried to ignore the frisson of pleasure that tickled the pit of my belly at his pronouncement.

  “My Misrillet…” he answered with a shrug.

  “Oh, right,” I peered around William’s bulk to see what the medics were doing. They mumbled to each other and into a walkie talkie. More sirens sounded and a squad car showed up.

  William touched my arm. “Really. He’s going to be okay.”

  I nodded. I watched the cop get out of the car. Crady’s dad was a detective.

  He started walking across the field toward us. Then my mom’s car screeched to a stop behind the cop car.

  Crady spilled out wearing bunny slippers and a frou frou robe. Her sleep mask was on her head; she looked like a pastry on legs, legs which were now pumping madly while she raced to us.

  I ran to her and we met in a blast of worry. “Thanks for coming!” I said.

  “What happened?” She asked at the same time.

  “I don’t know. The medics are taking care of him. He could barely talk on the phone. There was blood…”

  Crady stepped back from me and looked at me in the dawn light. “Is this his blood?” She asked me.

  I looked down. I was a hot mess. My arms were scraped up and bleeding, especially my elbows and one shoulder. I had holes in my pajama bottoms, and my feet were scraped up too. As I stared at my wounds, I felt the adrenaline fade and the hot sting of pain start flaring across my body. Suddenly, I felt exhausted.

  My mom came up to us. One look and she demanded I return to her car. “I’ve got this,” She said to me with conviction when I protested. “I called Mick’s parents. They’re coming too. If they don’t get here, I’ll ride with him to the hospital. You need to get home and get cleaned up.”

  Crady nodded vigorously. “I’ll help her. I can drive her home.”

  “Thank you, Crady,” Mom said. She nodded to William, not asking what he was doing there.

  William looked at Crady and me expectantly.

  Crady seemed to guess what he was thinking. “Of course you need to come with us. You can help me clean her up. She’s going to need minor surgery, I think,” Crady said drily.

  We started back across the field, and my feet chose this moment to start to really hurt. I began limping every time I stepped on a rock or twig.

  Without a second thought, William picked me up and carried me to my mom’s car.

  I was so tired that I didn’t really appreciate the feel of his strong arms holding me, and the smell of his sweat and the feel of his warm breath distilling over my skin.

  He didn’t say a word, just carried me like I weighed as much as a blade of grass. He buckled me into the back seat, asked Crady to pop the trunk, and put my wrecked bike into it.

  The ride home was a blur. The next thing I realized was that I was sitting on my couch. Crady was bringing warm wet washcloths to William who carefully bathed my wounds. Then Crady brought ointment and bandages. William’s bulk belied his gentleness. My awareness bloomed as I watched his long fingers press the Band-Aids onto some of my smaller scratches. He cleaned the blood efficiently, almost like…almost like he’d done it a thousand times before.

  “What happened to Mick?” I asked him. Since he had held me back, I figured he must have seen what happened.

  William shook his head. “You need your rest. You can ask Mick yourself w
hen you visit him tomorrow.”

  It bothered me that William refused to talk about it. And what was that whole dancing or fighting thing that I’d seen? That wasn’t Mick. Mick could barely talk to me on the phone; he hardly could have been fighting.

  “Who was at the park? Who were you fighting?” I asked William.

  He refused to look at me.

  I turned his face towards me; the contrast between my white skin and his tanned cheek startled me. I stared at my hand on his rough cheek and caught my breath. I finally saw the network of tiny scratches all over his skin. He had them up and down his neck and along the bulk of his biceps and forearms. “You’re hurt too,” I whispered to him.

  His eyes bored into mine. The black and brown and gold swirls of his irises seemed to swim before me.

  I felt my temperature rise, and then it came like a tsunami: the blush to beat all blushes. I collapsed back on the couch, completely mortified.

  “Crady!” William called my friend.

  I let him think I passed out. Maybe the blush would fade.

  Crady rushed in and saw me on the couch.

  “Ah. Scoot,” She told William and pushed him away. She knelt by the couch and felt my forehead. “I think she just needs her rest,” Crady said.

  I nodded with my eyes closed. I couldn’t face him, those eyes staring deeply into mine, my ridiculous blush taking over my whole body…I heard him walk to the door.

  “I’ll check on her later today,” He said.

  “Yes, yes. That will be good. We’ll let you know what we hear about Mick too,” Crady practically shoved him out the door. She came back to my side. “Okay, he’s gone. You can stop blushing now.”

  I opened my eyes. “Thanks, I think. He kept avoiding my questions, though,”

  Crady sat on a chair across from the couch. The morning sun streamed through the blinds now. “How are you feeling?” She asked me, searching my face.

  “I’m worried about Mick. And I’m confused. I don’t know what happened. He called me, and he could barely talk. I tried to get there as fast as I could,” Out of nowhere, tears started coming.