by Irene Ferris
Mathieu’s eyes moved to look at Dwayne. After a moment the eyes filled and then one tear followed by another rolled down his cheeks.
“He’s okay,” Jenn said as she leaned forward to gently wipe the tears with her thumb. Almost as an afterthought she reached down to grab her shirt and shrug it on before returning her attention to Mathieu. “He’s just exhausted. He’s just so tired after fighting all these years.” She crooned the words as she took her sleeve and wiped the cheeks dry. “You need to rest now, Mathieu. Sleep will make everything better.”
Mathieu stiffened and pulled himself away from Marcus, his face suddenly hard with defiance. “I don’t need anyth…”
Jenn cut him off. “You need to rest. I command that you sleep until you are rested.”
He shot her a look of purest hatred before he suddenly slumped into unconsciousness. Marcus swore as he caught the limp body before it hit the floor, “Damn it! You said we wouldn’t do that kind of thing to him.”
“It’s for his own good. You know that.” Jenn helped lower Mathieu’s slumbering body to the floor and rumpled the dark hair. “He’ll heal faster this way. Look at those wounds. He needs it.”
“It’s bad enough we did this to him. You didn’t have to exert control like that.” Marcus lifted the edge of Mathieu’s shirt and winced as he peered at the bruised and raw skin. “Even if he does need the rest.”
“He’ll get over it.” Jenn cocked her head at her husband. “Speaking of men too stupid to know when they need to rest…”
Marcus took a deep breath to protest and winced as his ribs twinged again. “Yeah, good thing you can’t compel me to be sensible like you did with him.” he wheezed in pain.
Jenn chewed her lower lip and then looked over at Dwayne, who had remained crouched down next to them. “Well, what do you think? Did we do the right thing? Do you see a future where everyone lives happily ever after?”
Dwayne looked at her for a long moment in a silence that stretched far too long to be comfortable or companionable. “Maybe,” he finally answered.
“Maybe?” She echoed the word back at him.
“Maybe.” He repeated it firmly, shook his head and then continued, “Fuck if I know.” He sighed and reached over to touch Mathieu’s shoulder again. “He feels normal. Human.”
“Of course he does,” Marcus answered. “Because he is human.”
“Human with a metric fuckton of power.” Dwayne paused again. “You know what the Foundation is going to want you to do with him.”
“Fuck the Foundation,” Marcus gritted in pain as he struggled to get to his feet. “They can’t have him.”
Jenn cleared her throat. Marcus turned to glare at her just as Carol walked into the room, Eddie limping slowly behind her.
“Dear God,” Carol gasped as she took in the scene. She half-ran over to them, dropped to her knees and after looking at Marcus and receiving a nod of permission, ran a quivering finger on the chain around Mathieu’s neck. “How?”
Jenn shrugged. “We improvised.”
Carol shot her a sharp look before looking up to Marcus. “You need to get him out of here before Hugh figures out what you’ve done. He’ll call in help from the
Chapter Houses and force you to hand Mathieu over. If he does that, I’ll never get him removed from power.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Jenn scoffed.
“He gave his own daughter to Gaap to get power. Just think what he’d do to get him.” Carol shook her head as she touched the chain again. “You need to get him out of here. You need to go someplace you can’t be found till things settle down.”
Eddie cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. “I’m going to have to agree with Carol. Hugh went apeshit when he saw what was left of Manders. I can already tell he’s going to be blaming all of us—but especially you three—for everything. Susan is distracting him right now, but I don’t think you want to be here when he realizes this house isn’t going to go up in a giant fireball.”
Dwayne cleared his throat and stood, knees popping in the quiet room. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out an old, black leather wallet. It was creased and near flat with age and being sat on, but seemed to fit well with him.
He opened up the billfold and pulled out a silver key. “I bought a place up in the Rockies a few years back. It’s in the middle of nowhere. I never told anyone and I bought it in another name. It’s fully stocked, and there’s a truck there too. Keys are in the ignition.” He tossed the key to Marcus. “I figure it’s as good as any place to hide for a while and sort out all the shit you three are going to have to sort.”
Marcus caught the key, held it up to inspect it with his good eye and then looked back at Dwayne. “How the Hell did you know to buy a secret hideout?”
Dwayne pulled all of his cash out of his wallet and handed it to Marcus. “I can see the future, dumbass. I knew I needed it, I just didn’t know what for. Eddie, give them all your money. They’ll need it.”
Eddie pulled out his wallet and passed over the contents. “There’s going to be interest due on that. At usurious rates. Don’t forget.”
Rolling his eyes as he folded the bills and shoved them into a jeans pocket, Marcus asked, “How do we get there? I can tell you I’m not up to driving cross country right now.”
Smirking, Jenn answered, “If Dwayne can tell me the true name of the place, we can get there--through Hell and back.”
Eddie carried Mathieu’s limp body up the stairs and out the kitchen door. “Damn it, I don’t know which is worse: getting second degree burns from touching him or getting a hernia from carrying his heavy ass up a flight of stairs and down a freaking hill.”
“At least you’re not losing skin this time. You should be grateful,” Jenn answered as she and Dwayne half-dragged Marcus with up the hill behind him. “Where is it, honey?”
“There. Up by the white rock,” Marcus groaned. They’d bound his ribs tightly with torn up sheets, but he still felt white hot knives in his chest whenever he took a deep breath.
“Can I put him down yet?” Eddie asked as they came to the circle Mathieu had cut into the sod two nights ago.
“Gently,” Marcus cautioned him. “He’s still bleeding. God only knows that that thing did to him while they were gone.”
“I know,” said Dwayne quietly. “I know,” he repeated, shaking his head sadly. “I wouldn’t wish that on a dog. Or my worst enemy. Or my worst enemy’s dog.”
“I know.” Jenn reached across and squeezed Dwayne’s arm. “You did the right thing. He’ll forgive you.”
Dwayne looked at her oddly. “I’m not seeing that particular future. Not yet.”
She half-shrugged. “Give it time. Give him time to cool off. I’ll make sure he forgives you.”
“Don’t you go forcing him like that. That’s not real forgiveness, that’s just him doing what he’s told with no choice of his own.” Dwayne stared at her till she looked down at her feet. “I wouldn’t wish that on a dog either.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’d never do something like that,” Jenn said as she turned her attention back to the circle. Eddie had exposed the spell by pulling up the sod. “That’s strange. He never put in a destination.”
“Probably because he didn’t intend to leave. Where would he go?” Marcus said quietly from the center of the circle. His face was still swollen and bruised but he seemed to be standing a little easier, as if he were feeling stronger. He was kneeling, half-supporting Mathieu’s limp body.
“Hm,” Jenn replied, not quite sure what to think of that theory. “I don’t know. Maybe. Dwayne, can you tell me where we’re going? What is the true name of the place?”
Dwayne’s eyes half-lidded as he recalled for them the scent of the air, the feel of the dirt beneath his shoes, the color of the sky and the taste of the water. From that memory, Jenn found what she needed and quickly carved in the symbols with a stick and stepped into the circle.
“I’ll get your luggage and send it through as soon as Hugh bugs out of here,” Eddie said as he looked nervously over his shoulder. “Get this,” he said with a gesture that included the three of them in the circle, “whatever this is—get this worked out as soon as you can so we can get back together. You know how to find us.”
“I know,” Marcus said. “Carol will be working for us with the Elders, I don’t doubt. I think she’s relishing the chance to take Hugh down.”
“She’s already drooled all over herself in her rush to get on the phone. I’m willing to bet everything that he’ll be ruined and powerless by this time next week,” Eddie confirmed. “I’m not even going to complain to her about how much she’s going to run up my phone bill doing it.”
“Not powerless. Hatred is never powerless.” Dwayne’s voice was distant. “He’s lost face and position, but a creature like him never stops hating.”
“No,” said Jenn. “I suppose not.” She sighed and looked down at the two men in the circle before looking back up to Eddie. “I’m exhausted. Can either of you…?”
“Of course.” Eddie glanced at Dwayne and the two of them each put a foot on the outer edge of the circle. There was a moment of silence and then the world began to shift and fade before her eyes.
As the world shifted to be replaced by biting cold and then by a cold that wasn’t quite as biting, Marcus had been reminded just how good—how kick-ass—his team was.
Chapter Forty - Seven
No amount of kick-assedness did anything to help Jenn and Marcus to half-drag, half-carry Mathieu’s limp body from the still icy clearing up into the small one room cabin, but at least the effort had helped keep them warm in the alpine meadow.
“We’re up high,” Jenn had gasped at one point as she stopped and rested. “Not as high as he was when I went to get him, but high enough make breathing painful.”
“It doesn’t hurt as much when I breathe,” said Marcus. “And my face isn’t throbbing—well, at least not as much.”
Jenn had then peered at him closely, cocked her head and pronounced his bruising and swelling was much less than when they’d left Kinderhook.
“Do you think that some of Mathieu’s nature is rubbing off on us because of the bond? You’re healing quickly.” She’d sounded more curious than worried.
All Marcus could do was shrug. It would be a frightening concept to consider what else might rub off if that were the truth, and he was too exhausted to put more thought into it all right now.
When they reached the cabin they found that while Dwayne’s taste in decor was Spartan at best, there was enough food to last for weeks. Of course, his taste in food was equally Spartan but Marcus didn’t think he’d much mind the taste of SPAM, beans or canned ravioli---at least for the first few days.
There was a bed in the corner, sheets, pillows and quilts vacuum packed and stacked on the mattress. In the opposite corner a small wood stove stood, matches and kindling stacked at the ready.
“Bless you, Dwayne. Bless you for seeing that you needed this ready to go. Bless you for knowing we needed this place,” Marcus chanted as opened the damper and touched match to the tinder already laid out in the stove. It caught quickly and warmth flooded the room almost instantly. He laid more of the wood inside so that it would burn while they all slept.
Jenn had already pulled Mathieu to the middle of the bed and laid down on the edge nearest the wall. She waved her husband over so he could climb in on the other side, holding a comforter ready. “We’ll be warmer this way. Jesus, it’s cold up here.”
“Of course it’s cold. It’s the mountains.” Marcus studied the bed before easing himself onto the edge, careful not to strain or bump anything. “It’s going to be tight in here.”
“Yeah,” Jenn said softly. As she spoke, Mathieu turned in his sleep and put an arm across her waist. Her body stiffened at the touch. “Tight in a lot of ways.”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed but then he shook his head. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.” He pulled the comforter up over their heads. Draping his arm over both bodies, he rested his hand on his wife’s waist and squeezed gently, feeling her muscles go limp one by one from sheer exhaustion. “Who gets custody if we divorce?”
“I told you wanted a dog, but no…” Jenn answered sleepily. “I don’t think I’d take him; he’s prettier than I am.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.” He squeezed his wife’s waist again as he started drifting off into an exhausted slumber. “I love you. Truly, madly, deeply. We’ll figure it all out in the morning.”
The room was dark and silent except for the flicking, popping fire in the stove. Marcus saw and heard none of it. He fell headfirst into a well of slumber, so deep, dark and thick that he didn’t hear Jenn’s sleepy mutter of assent. Nor did he feel Mathieu’s silent sobs when they shook the bed before sunrise.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Irene Ferris wanted to be an archaeologist-paleontologist-astronaut when she grew up. Instead, life pushed her into insurance claims to expiate her past life sins. Obviously, she was a horrible person. Writing dulls the pain, has less calories than alcohol and is (mostly) completely legal.
She lives the dream in the humid paradise that is Florida with her husband, daughter and two extremely stupid cats. She is well on her way to her retirement goal of being a crazy cat lady. All she needs is thirty-seven more cats.
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After he ignores her warnings to go home and forget about the book, Claire must make a choice: let Mike's discoveries lead him to certain death, or face down her own demons to help him. Knowing The Collector is much more fact than fiction, Claire must decide whether to protect the secret she has kept for eighty years, or reveal her true nature to save another girl from sharing the same dark fate.
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