Riftkeepers: Pursuit

by Carrie Whitethorne

  Be gentle, take what I saw to him. Show him.

  The whole sequence replayed between them, every minute detail shared. When it was done, she withdrew and looked down at her hands.

  “Why?” He asked her then, his eyes a mirror to his feelings. Hurt, that she hadn't trusted him. Sadness, that she'd shouldered this alone. Guilt, that she had felt she couldn't speak to him. Anger, that he wasn't wholly dealt with. Fear, that they hadn't completed the task of ending the threat.

  “I don't know,” she whispered. He'd never been so open, she'd never seen him so raw. “I thought you'd think I'd lost my mind. I'm sorry.”

  He joined her on the floor, stroking a hand gently down her hair. Leaning his head to hers, he said “Don't apologise. I'm sorry. You should have felt you could tell me. Tell any of us.”

  “What are we going to do?” Her voice was thick, a lump forming in her throat.

  “We need to get to Houska. If anyone has the skill or tools to track a voice its Markus.”

  Just when we thought we could get some rest, here we go again.

  “Callan, I'm sorry. If I'd said something before, we wouldn't be…”

  He cut her off. “It's a voice. It's going to take some working out. It doesn't matter if we knew there and then or next week. We'll put it right. We'll finish this.”

  I just want it to end. Why won't it just end?

  “You look exhausted,” he said as he rose from the floor, taking her with him. “Let's get you back to bed. We both need the sleep. We can handle all of this tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Okay,” she nodded against his chest.

  They landed on the bed and he gently settled her down, shifting so she was comfortably nestled in his arms. “Sleep now. Everything's fine. I promise, it's all going to be fine.”

  Chapter 34

  Bright sunlight streamed through the blinds and she huddled beneath the duvet, shielding her eyes.

  I better get up, it's probably late and I'm hungry.

  Callan emerged from the bathroom in a plume of steam, rubbing his hair with a towel. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

  “No, I need to get up anyway, the kids,” she explained.

  “They've gone to see Ma with Dagda and Ferne.”

  “He's taken her to the palace?” she gasped.

  “Hmm, looks like its progressed from being fun,” he smirked.

  Just a bit.

  She smiled, thinking of her conversation with Ferne the previous evening, and asked, “How was Zander this morning? Is Enya okay?”

  “Fine, he's his usual happy self. Nothing to worry about with him at all. Enya was excited to show Ferne the palace. They had to go via Tighvein to get her past the wards. I said we'd meet them there later.”

  “What about Houska? Don't we need to be going over there?”

  “Yes, but we need to speak to Dad and Dagda first. I haven't mentioned anything to Dagda. He looked preoccupied, taking Ferne up there.” He dropped the towel on the floor and adjusted the one at his waist. “We've plenty of time. We could go for lunch beforehand?”

  She flopped back onto the bed. “I feel like I could sleep for a week. I've never felt so tired, not even when the kids were tiny,” she complained.

  He frowned, his eyes full of concern, “Do you think you need to see Aoife?”

  “What for? I'm just tired. I didn't sleep very well while Zander was missing, we had all that in the cave. No, I'm fine.” With a sigh, she shook her head and pushed back the duvet. As she swung her legs out of bed she smiled, “I'll catch up over the next few days and be back to normal soon.”

  “If you're sure,” he said, not convinced.

  “I'm starving. Where are, we going for lunch?”

  He looked her over and forced a smile. “Wherever you want to.”

  The whole family were gathered at Taran and Caoimhe's suite when they arrived. Alayna and Dane were entertaining the children while Taran and Caoimhe fussed over Ferne. Dagda looked stressed.

  “What's up with you?” Charlotte asked, handing him a mug of coffee.

  “Nothing,” he grumbled, avoiding eye contact.

  “Looks like they like her well enough. What's to stress about?”

  He tilted his head toward the patio doors and she followed him out. He spoke in a low murmur, “I don't know how to balance it. She can't be here all the time, I can't be down there as often as I need to be for her. I…”

  “Dagda, just let it pan out. It'll work if it's meant to. She could come and stay with us every other weekend or something. We've managed to find a balance. Stop over thinking it. She's fine, she's happy if she has you,” she assured him.

  He frowned, and said, “I can't make her happy, Charlotte.”

  “You do make her happy. Have you even had a girlfriend before?”

  “Not as such, no,” he admitted. “I've always managed to remain… detached.”

  “Well, steep learning curve for you, big brother,” she laughed as she patted his arm gently. “Just go with it. She isn't going anywhere, just find a way to work it round. You'll be fine.”

  With a curt nod, he kissed her cheek and led her back inside with a gentle hand on her back.

  Charlotte managed to avoid any more conversation by staying in the kitchen.

  I'm too tired for chit chat, I don't want to go back over everything again until we speak to Taran. Cannot be bothered today.

  Dane popped his head in the door. “Who you hiding from?”

  She smiled at him and said, “You!”

  “Suit yourself,” he said, wrinkling his nose and leaving her.

  He's worried.

  I'm fine.

  You're not fine. You're exhausted, moody and probably traumatised. Let me help you.

  No, thank you. I can deal with this myself.

  Callan joined her and said quietly, “I'll get them to come over to our suite. We can discuss it without frightening the children. They'll be okay for a few minutes with Ma. Do you want to walk down ahead of us? Clear your head?”

  He knows, Charlotte. You're hurting him by trying to ignore it.

  She agreed and slipped out quietly.

  The cool, white marble hall was silent. Not a single guard or any other staff to be seen or heard. She ran her hand down the silver rail of the staircase, enjoying its cool feel. Her flat shoes slapped on the marble as she set off towards their suite.

  “Princess,” a voice said from behind.

  I know that voice.

  She turned to find Byron leaning on an intricately carved pillar by the staircase. “Byron, on your way to see Taran?”

  He picked at his shirt sleeve and slowly met her confused gaze. “No, I'm looking for you.”

  Oh no…

  “Why? What can I help you with?” She tried, and failed, to keep the nervous edge from her voice.

  “I wanted to apologise,” he said. “Word of your actions reached the council. Your bravery, your sacrifice. I wanted to apologise in person, before the council meeting, for my behaviour. I misjudged you.”

  He doesn't sound awfully sincere.

  With a frown, she said, “That's… kind of you. Thank you.” She turned and continued walking to her suite, unwilling to enter a conversation with him about what happened in the cave. He made no move to follow her and she didn't turn to see if he'd gone.

  Well, that was creepy. How did he even know I was here?

  Turning the corner to their suite, she dared a glance back. The hall was empty.

  She could hear hushed voices as she pushed the door open. They all stopped and looked at her from the dining table as the door clicked shut behind her. She offered a brief smile and went into the bedroom and waited for Callan.

  “I just saw Byron. I wasn't aware it was common knowledge that we went to Glencoe?” she asked as he closed the door.

  “Byron? It isn't. What did he want?” he asked, puzzled.

  “To apologise, apparently,” she shrugged. “He said he misjudged me and wanted to apologise f
or his behaviour at the last council meeting I attended. I don't trust him.”

  “I'll have someone keep an eye on him. Don't let him bother you,” he reached for her, holding her close. “Do you want me to explain this to Dad?”

  She sighed, “No, I'll do it. I can show him exactly what I saw.” She stepped away, “Let's get on with it.”

  Taran, Dagda, and Dane sat around the dining table waiting for her. Dane's eyes followed her as she crossed the room and sat beside Dagda. Callan remained standing behind her chair.

  She felt Dane, a silent request to share her thoughts, to support her silently. She declined.

  Let me in. Lottie, please, what's wrong?

  Nothing. Everything.

  Avoiding his gaze, she looked to Taran. “I have something you need to see. Can I just show you, I don't think I could…?”

  “Of course, Charlotte,” he said softly, his brow wrinkled in concern. “Whenever you're ready.”

  With even more care than she'd taken with Callan, she gently fed the images into Taran's mind. She replayed the sequence of events twice, then withdrew, a single tear escaping down her cheek.

  Dane's jaw was set, he'd obviously watched through Taran.

  Dagda looked puzzled. “Charlotte?”

  She nodded and repeated the action for him. He tensed at the initial contact, clearly uncomfortable with the invasion. His discomfort turned to icy rage as he watched and understood. Once she'd withdrawn, he took her hand, “Why didn't you say?” The emotion in his voice, the sadness, choked her.

  Shaking her head, she looked at his hand, gently holding hers and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Her voice a hoarse whisper, she said, “We'd all been through enough. Carlie. We needed to see to Carlie. I had to get Zander home. I thought it was him dying, some sort of mental comfort bringing him someone so he wouldn't die alone… it sounds stupid now, but, I'm sorry.”

  Dagda said nothing but tightened his grip on her.

  Too exhausted to keep the defenses up, she let Dane in. Let him see every thought and feeling she'd had then and since.

  Another silent tear fell as she sat waiting for someone to say something.

  “You didn't trust that we'd believe you?” Dane asked, shoving his chair back with his legs and rising from the table. “How many times? I asked you to let me help you. You could have told either Callan or myself at any point, and still you did that to yourself? Why?” he asked. She couldn't meet his gaze, the look on his face making her chest tighten.

  She shook her head sadly, “I don't know.”

  Callan's warm hands rested on her shoulders. “It doesn't matter, now.”

  “The question begs, how are we to decipher the identity of the disembodied voice?” Taran asked.

  “We'll need help from Markus. If anyone has the skill or knows of the tool required its him,” Callan said.

  Taran nodded his agreement and bowed his head, seemingly deep in thought.

  “Oh, he'll know,” Dane said, confidently, pacing the room.

  He'll give you anything you ask for, Lottie. Anything.

  I know. I don't understand why though.

  Dane fell silent.

  “Okay, so, what's the plan now?” Dagda asked in a low growl.

  Callan moved around the table to address them all. “We stay quiet. Byron was sniffing around Charlotte on her way over here. We can't have the council involved until we have answers to the questions they'll bombard us with.”

  “Byron?” Taran asked, surprised.

  “Said he wanted to apologise for his earlier behaviour, claims to have misjudged Charlotte and commended her on her actions at Glencoe.”

  Dagda released her hand. “No-one was told about Glencoe, certainly not that she was there.”

  “I'll pay him a visit,” Dane said, his voice full of malice. As she turned to protest, she saw he'd already gone.

  Perfect.

  “What are we going to do?” She said, more to herself than anyone.

  “You can go to Houska. I'll make a start here. We need numbers if he has friends,” Dagda said, patting her hand again.

  “How did he survive that?” Charlotte whispered. “I thought Klara had torn him apart?”

  “She punctured a lung and damaged some of his lower organs,” Callan said. “She never misses. If he's survived, he won't be well for a few weeks. Unless he has a healer, which I doubt.”

  “Whoever he's with, knows a lot about us,” Taran said at last. “Excuse me, I have some records to look through.”

  He didn't bother to stand up, he disappeared on the spot.

  With Taran gone, Charlotte let the tears fall.

  I can't do this. I can't do it all again. If they come for the kids. Whoever they are!

  “Callan, I want to go home.”

  He looked to Dagda, “We'll pick this up later, she's had enough.”

  Dagda nodded, kissing her on the head as he rose from the table. “I'll see you soon.”

  With tears in her eyes, she left the table and took Callan's hand. “Please, I need some sleep. I need to go home,” she murmured, resting her head on his chest.

  He ran a hand down her back, picked her up, and lowered her onto the bed. “What can I do?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

  “I'm sorry, Callan. I'm just so tired. Can you keep the kids busy?” she asked, weakly.

  He nodded, his throat bobbing, and kissed her gently on the cheek. “I'll let Ferne know you're here and check on you in an hour.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered as sleep took her over.

  Her dream was of darkness. Mumbled words, swirling shadows and emptiness filled her mind but she couldn't make any sense of it.

  As she began to feel afraid, that the darkness had no end, a voice rang clear. “I helped. And now, I'm coming for you.”

  Ice filled her veins. Blackness, heavy and complete settled over her heart and she heard the crashing of waves in her ears. Slower and slower the waves pounded, shifting to the sound of a heartbeat. Her heartbeat. Slow and rhythmic it fought against the heavy weight until, at last, it stopped.

  I'm coming.

  She bolted awake, panting. Her eyes wild, she scanned the room as she sucked in breath after breath. Empty. Daylight. A dream.

  No, Charlotte, that was more than a dream. You know that your dreams don't try to kill you.

  Chapter 35

  “You look terrible, chick,” Ferne said as she handed over a mug of tea.

  “Cheers,” she muttered. She'd closed the curtains and huddled on the sofa under a blanket.

  “You haven't been right since you got back from, well there. I think you need to see someone.”

  “I'm fine, Ferne,” she snapped. “I'm just fucking tired!”

  “Alright. Shit, you're in a good mood. I'll be upstairs if you need me,” she said quietly, storming from the room.

  Christ, after everything I've been through I'm not allowed a few days to sort myself out…

  We all went through it though. Why am I the only one struggling?

  Lost in her thoughts, she didn't realise her mug was slipping from the sofa arm.

  “Bollocks!” she hissed as the steaming hot tea spilled on her leg. Leaping from the sofa, she pulled her leggings from her skin, trying to stop them sticking. “Shit,” she muttered, rushing up the stairs.

  Callan found her with her legs in the bath, splashing cold water on the raw skin of her thighs. “What happened?”

  “I dropped a hot drink, that's all, wasn't concentrating,” she said with a tone of annoyance.

  He crossed to the vanity and pulled a small pot from the drawer. “This'll take the heat out,” he said, removing the lid and kneeling by her side. “Can I see?”

  Swinging her legs round, she sat in silence as he gently patted her dry and applied the salve.

  “What's going on?” he asked quietly, gently dabbing the white paste to her tender skin.

  “Nothing, I'm just tired,” she said, looking
at her knees.

  “Ferne's upset. She phoned Dagda and asked him to send me back. What happened?”

  “She wants to mind her own fucking business,” she spat. “I'm fine. I'd just woken up and she's sat there giving me shit.”

  Callan frowned and continued tending her legs. When he was finished, he replaced the cap and said, “We'll be leaving for Houska in half an hour. Give that ten minutes then you should be okay to get dressed.”

  “Where are, you going now?” she asked, her gaze still firmly down at her knees.

  “To sort the children, I won't be long,” he said, kissing the top of her head. He left quietly, closing the bathroom door behind him.

  It never ends! Can't we just stop chasing shadows?

  She was still sitting by the bath when Callan returned.

  “Charlotte? Aren't you getting dressed?”

  “No, I don't want to go to Houska, I want to stay here with you. I'm done, Callan,” she said, in a flat voice.

  “It won't take long, I'll get Ma to have the children tonight and we'll have a quiet one, just us, okay?” he coaxed, holding out a hand.

  “No,” she said firmly. “I'm not going anywhere.”

  “Fine, I'll be back later. You know how to contact me if I'm needed,” he said, heading for the door.

  “Don't walk away from me Callan. I need you here,” she whined, finally turning to face him.

  He stopped, a hand behind his head, and snapped “Get dressed.” Then turned and strode into the bedroom.

  A flash of anger rose in her and she jumped to her feet, storming after him. “Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?” she yelled.

  He looked her up and down and turned to open a wardrobe. She grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. “Callan!”

  “I'm not doing this, Charlotte. Get dressed, we're going to Houska,” he said evenly, handing her a pair of loose training pants.

  His stony expression, his clenched jaw sent a tiny ripple of fear through her. She snatched them and sat on the edge of the bed to dress, muttering a string of expletives under her breath.

  Callan watched her carefully, handing her a pair of trainers when she'd fastened her pants. “We'll discuss this when we get home, try to keep yourself under control while we're there.”