Luke reacted violently, the blood washing from his face as he released Claire and pushed her away from him hard enough to send her stumbling to her knees. The naked fear on the boy's face was overpowering as he backed away from the wounded boy on the ground before him.
Something like doubt or confusion flickered across Albert's features as he looked from Brandon to Luke. Wetting his lips, he started to raise the bat again, but stopped as the first drops of rain fell from the sky above. He gave the thunderous gray sky and the strengthening rain a sour look and shook his head. Speaking to everybody, he tossed the bat to the ground and stepped away. "Looks like this game is going to be called due to rain, boys." Meeting Brandon's gaze, his voice went cold and oh so distant. "Keep the cyclops close, Merryweather. She's the only friend you've got. Be a shame if she went missing too." He turned and walked away. The wounded Kruegers followed, shooting poisonous glares at Brandon as they vanished into the darkness.
The scattered sprinkles had turned into a true rain, soaking Brandon's tunic as he rolled over onto his back and stared up into the black sky. His broken bones snapped back into place, the healing powers of the rain washing away the pain until it was only a memory. Claire knelt beside him in the rain, watching the marks and bruises quickly fade away. She stared at the unblemished skin in awe. It was one thing to be told about miraculous things, it was quite another to see it happen herself.
Brandon sat up, putting a hand on Claire's cheek, before climbing to his feet. He started to go after Albert and the Kruegers, but Claire stopped him. "Please." She said. The pleading note in her voice pierced him and he stopped. She was soaked to the skin, the thin fabric of her costume no protection at all against the cold October rain. Unlike Brandon, Claire wasn't immune to the cold. Her teeth were chattering and he could see that she was miserable. She met his gaze and whispered. "Please, don't go after them. Not tonight. Stay with me"
Her voice cracked with shivers and Brandon wrapped his arms around her, trying to shift some of his body heat to her. "Let's get back inside, okay?"
The door they had came out of was closed and locked, so Brandon and Claire were forced to walk around the cafeteria. Brandon kept his hand on the hilt of his sword as they moved down the narrow alley, listening for any sign of their attackers just in case they attempted to ambush them again. The rain began to let up as they reached the front of the building, becoming an icy mist. A long metal awning spanned the bit of road that ran along the face of the cafeteria. The two of them stepped underneath, out of the freezing water, and Claire pulled Brandon into a tight embrace. Fighting off chills, she said. "Did that really just happen? Or am I going crazy?"
Brandon shook his head, wiping water from his face. He watched the shadows for movement and said. "Are you okay?"
"Yes." She said. "Let's get back inside. I don't want to be outside anymore. I feel like they're out there watching us now."
Holding her hand, Brandon led her back into the cafeteria, ignoring the odd looks their wet clothes received. Losing themselves among the crush of dancing people, they found an unoccupied corner and tried their best to dry out. They sat close, arms around each other for warmth. The music was loud and they had to lean close and speak directly into each other's ears to be heard.
Claire's lips brushed his ear as she said. "They had to have forced him somehow? Threatened him?"
Brandon shook his head. He couldn't believe how stupid he had been. "That was Albert. The real Albert. I can't believe I misjudged him so badly. He never gave any indication of how he really felt." His eyes suddenly stung with unshed tears and he was glad it was dark where they were sitting. Swallowing was hard. He kept hearing the smaller boy's words, crashing back at him. He said. "He was the first friend I made when I came to Matheson."
"He tricked both of us, Bran." Claire said. "And you're wrong. He was never really your friend. But I am." She leaned in close and kissed him lightly on the lips. When she pulled back, she was smiling. "You're my best friend, Bran. The best friend I've ever had."
Brandon said nothing at first, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. She watched him, her single green eye filled with concern. And love. Brandon felt some of the hurt leaching from his heart under that beautiful gaze. He said. "I love you, Claire. I love you so much and I don't know if I'm strong enough to protect you." It absolutely killed him to admit it, especially out loud. "If I can't even handle three teenage bullies, how in the hell am I supposed to stop a demon? I don't think I'm strong enough."
She leaned into his embrace, laying her head on his shoulder. Her voice is low and soft, but he can somehow hear her. "You will be."
Watching the others dancing around them, Brandon tried to let himself believe Claire's words, to let her optimism lift him up, but all he could see in his mind's eye was the flash of Perry's switchblade dancing in front of Claire's face.
It was after midnight when Brandon and Claire left the dance, meeting her dad just outside the cafeteria entrance. Kevin Moody tried to make small talk, asking if they had a good time, but he seemed distracted. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, but Brandon would've had to have been blind to miss the dark spots of dried blood spattered on the fabric. He resisted the urge to ask about it, but Claire felt no such compunction. "What's with the blood, dad? Did something happen tonight?" Claire asked, her voice worried.
Her dad responded with a tired sigh and a shake of his head. "Nothing that should concern the two of you, not on the way home from a dance, punkin." His eyes were shadowed in the rear view mirror when he looked back at them. He said. "I don't want to ruin your evening."
Claire said. "What happened, dad? It wasn't another attack like what happened at the mill, was it? Those things?"
Kevin Moody was quiet for a long moment, before saying. "When you told me what you saw out there, I couldn't make myself believe you, honey. You were scared and it was dark, so I just chalked it up to shock and youthful imagination. It had to have been an animal attack, that's what I kept telling myself."
"What happened?"
"I was just at the police station." He said. He paused a moment to let that sink in, before going on. "I think you and everybody else at the dance knew that the police were planning a hunt tonight, to try and track down whatever attacked you kids out at the Kirkman Mill. It was no big secret. Well, they found those things alright. Or, more accurately, those things found them."
"Was anybody killed?" Brandon said, breaking his silence. He was thinking of his uncle when he asked this. He was sure it would take more than grohlm to kill Gerrick, but he also knew that there was more than just grohlm out in those woods.
"No. Thank god." Kevin said. "But it was a miracle no one wasn't. Some of the officers were pretty badly wounded, but nobody died."
Brandon said nothing. It was a miracle, all right. But it was a miracle helped along by his uncle and his skills as a warrior. He glanced over at Claire and saw the same thought dancing in her beautiful green eye. She took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
They were quiet the rest of the drive to Highgarden, each lost in their own thoughts. Brandon tried to get Claire's dad to drop him at the mouth of the driveway, but Kevin insisted on taking him all the way to the front door. Gerrick's vehicle was gone but Brandon didn't worry. He didn't waste energy worrying over the older man. Even if the hunt was finished, Gerrick would scout the woods for as long as possible to try to whittle away at the grohlm's numbers.
Claire followed him out of the car, walking with him to the front door. Sliding his key into the locked front door, Brandon turned to Claire and said. "I'm glad that we went to the dance tonight."
Claire laughed and said. "Were we at the same dance?"
Brandon smiled. "The inside dancing is what I'm talking bout. That part was great. It was fantastic. The outside dancing not so much. I'm sorry that I couldn't stop them from hurting you."
"They didn't hurt me, Bran." Claire said. She wrapped her arms around Brandon's shoulders and
hugged him tight against her, oblivious to her father, watching from the idling car. Pulling back, she met his gaze. "I'm glad we went too. And nothing that happened tonight was your fault. You couldn't have known what was going to happen, so don't blame yourself. Blame Albert." Leaning forward, she kissed him. Her father was watching, so she kept it short and chaste. She pulled back and her green eye stared into his. She smiled and said. "I have to go, but I'll see you soon." She turned and dashed down to her father's Explorer and climbed in.
Brandon watched them drive away, taillights disappearing into the darkness, before going into the house. It was dark except for the soft glow of the kitchen light, splashing through the kitchen archway, and the upstairs hall light. He went upstairs and undressed, changing into a pair of shorts. Tucking Rok into his pocket, he went to the kitchen and fixed himself a sandwich. He stood next to the table, eating his meal, and tried to decide what to do about Albert.
The phone rang.
Brandon caught it on the third ring, saying. "Highgarden?"
"Bran?" Lawyer Dagget said. He sounded surprised that Brandon had answered the phone. "Is your uncle home?"
"He's out."
"Where?" Dagget sounded worried.
"He's out hunting monsters." Brandon said. "Some of the children in town have gone missing. As well as the chief of police and a handful of his deputies."
"Jesus." Dagget said. He was quiet for a long moment, digesting Brandon's words. "And he left you at Highgarden alone? Was that wise, with all that's going on?"
"I'm fine." Brandon said, unable to keep the bite from his tone. This was the first time he'd talked to the lawyer since leaving him back in Seattle and he found himself suddenly angry at the man. "Gerrick's been doing a bang up job of teaching me how to be a man. I haven't learned much about doing my taxes or balancing my checkbook, but I can kill a man in just three steps. Isn't that what you wanted? For me to be able to take care of myself?"
The other man was silent for a long time. Then he said. "We just want to make sure that you're ready, Bran." The lawyer sounded uneasy. He didn't sound comfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. He said. "We were left very specific instructions by your father. He knew that none of this was going to be easy for you."
"What does that even mean, anyway?" Brandon said, his voice rising. "If he knew so much about how hard my life was going to be, don't you think he might've given me some kind of warning? Like, hey, Bran, I'm not gonna be around much longer, but guess what? You're going to have to learn how to fight and survive, just so you can clean up my mess. Oh, wait, that's not all. Did I happen to mention, you can never fall in love, because, if you do, you will fucking die?"
Dagget cleared his throat. "Have you made any friends?"
"Not many." Brandon said into the phone, mimicking a cheery tone. "Just two, really. And one of them happens to be a very nice girl that I can never be with, otherwise she gets to be slaughtered just because I love her. Nice evasion, though. Look, I've got a ton of homework that desperately needs doing. If there isn't anything in particular that you need me to tell Gerrick, I think I'll hang up now?"
"Will you, please, just tell him that I called, Bran?" Dagget said, sounding defeated. "And take care of yourself."
"Sure." Brandon said. "I'll tell Gerrick that you called." Brandon hung up the phone and turned to find Gerrick standing beside the kitchen table.
Gerrick watched him, his cloak draped over his shoulder. He was dressed in the same outfit that he wore the night at the mill. The night the two of them saved Claire and Emily and god knows how many others. Gerrick had a deft hand with needle and thread and the repairs were almost invisible. There was a deep scratch down the side of the older man's cheek, scabbed over with dried blood. He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down, asking. "Dagget?"
Brandon nodded. "He says hi."
Gerrick quirked his lips into his almost smile. "How was the dance?"
Brandon thought about telling Gerrick about how Albert and the Kruegers had ambushed him, but decided against it. Instead, he said. "People danced. A good time was had by all. How was the hunt?"
Gerrick gestured at the scratch on his cheek. He said. "Went about as well as expected. I minimized the damage, somewhat. After the initial rush, the grohlm kept a low profile, staying in the shadows. I did what I could. Killed more than I could count. Nobody died, at least."
"How many do you think are out there?" Brandon retrieved a couple of cokes from the fridge and sat down at the table with Gerrick. He passed one to his uncle and cracked his open. He said. "With what we killed the other night, and what you did tonight, there can't be that many left, can there?"
Gerrick didn't say anything right away. He sipped his coke and shook his head. He touched the scratch on his cheek and said. "I don't know. There seems to be no end to them."
"Where are they coming from?" Brandon asked. He leaned back and met the other man's gaze. His anger from before receding as they talked business.
"That's the million dollar question, isn't it?" Gerrick looked at him. "We need to find the answer if we want to stand a chance of stopping them."
Brandon glanced at Gerrick. The big man sat across from him and watched his face, trying to gauge how ready he was. Brandon looked down at his hands, at the creases cutting diagonally across his palm. His hands were rougher than before he came to Highgarden. Callused and hard from the sword work. They looked like grown up hands. A man's hands. Brandon said. "It has to be some kind of gateway? A place where they can get from the old world to here? Or are they just appearing out of thin air?"
"It will be a doorway of some kind." Gerrick answered. "A passageway leading from the Usurper's world to ours. Places like Matheson have thin spots, where worlds brush against one another." Gerrick shook his head. "Somewhere, deep in the Briar woods, there is an opening. That's where they're coming from."
"Then we have to find it." Brandon said, stifling any questions about thin spots and worlds brushing against one another. There was a time for questions and a time for action. "We have to find their doorway to our world and close it."
CHAPTER 11
"I'm not so sure about it." Claire said, looking up from the display case and smiling to take the sting from her words. "Your uncle just doesn't strike me as the golfing type?" The two of them were in the sporting goods department of the local Wal-Mart, browsing through the golf section. Claire wore a gold hat perched on top of her head, her hair tied back with a red ribbon, and looked quite fetching. Her eye patch matched her yellow tee shirt and had a tiny daisy painted on the corner of it.
Brandon shook his head and looked at her. He said. "You're totally right, I know. But I can't think of a good gift that isn't related to chopping off heads and fighting monsters. I figured golf clubs were a safe bet?"
She smiled at him and said. "You're probably right. And, besides, golf is fun."
Brandon smiled. "Exactly. My dad used to take me back home. We would go on Saturday afternoons, when it wasn't raining. He called it our father son time." He turned away from the clubs and said. "Sometimes, mom came with us. She was actually a better golfer than my dad and would tease him about it." He went quiet, the sad smile slipping from his lips.
Claire was silent for a long moment, watching him from the corner of her eye as they walked down the store's cluttered aisles. They were close to the front entrance when she said. "It still hurts, doesn't it? Thinking about them?"
Brandon nodded. He met her gaze and said. "But it's starting to get easier. It hurts less, now. I can think about the good times without crying, at least."
Claire turned and said. "I'm sorry, Bran. I shouldn't have brought it all up, not while we were having such a good day."
Brandon stopped walking. He took Claire's hand and leaned forward, kissing her lightly on the mouth. He said. "We're still having a great day, I hope. Never be afraid to ask me anything, Claire. You're the most important thing in the world to me."
Claire le
aned into him and kissed him again, this time deeper. She let her tongue dance against his. Brandon wrapped her tight in his arms and kissed her as if it was for the last time, not caring who saw them. When they pulled apart, Brandon stared into Claire's green eye and felt himself shiver all over. He said. "We should get out of here, I think. I'm not going to find a gift for Gerrick at Wal-Mart."
"Probably not." Claire said, smiling. She sounded almost out of breath as she steadied herself with a hand on his chest. She giggled a little and ran her fingers through her hair. She looked fantastic when she was flustered but Bran knew better than to tell her so. She said. "We can go to the mall next? I'm sure we'll find something there?"
"Tell me again, why are we buying gifts?" Brandon asked.
Claire said, grabbing Brandon's hand and dragging him behind her. "Because we can. And buying presents is fun. Besides, Christmas is just a couple of months away and it never hurts to start early."
They left Wal-Mart at a nice leisurely pace, walking hand in hand to the shopping mall that shared the big parking lot with the giant retailer. They hit all of the different shops, looking for the perfect gift for Gerrick.
As they walked, they talked abut everything that crossed their minds, trying to stay away from the scary subjects. Not about Albert or missing children or monsters hiding in the dark. They talked mostly of their plans for the future. All of the things they hoped to accomplish before they got old and boring. They were in a collectable store, looking at statues of suer heroes and scantily clad fantasy heroes and heroines, when Claire said. "Where do you think you will go to college? Someplace close? Or back in Seattle?"
"Not sure." Brandon said, picking up a statue of a mounted warrior. It reminded him of his grandfather, with its long white beard and fierce expression. Of the vision of his grandfather's death. "I'm mostly just aiming to survive high school. College seems a little too long term, as far as plans go."
Fire And Steel (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 2) Page 10
