by Cassie Power
He waved at her, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to see him in the dark. His own night vision was a lot better than a regular person and he could just make out where she was that way. Merry was standing with the door directly to her back, allowing him to see the outline of it. It was… Nice.
Not as ridiculously thin as what some women tried for in the modern age. Healthy however, without harming herself to fit what others were told to think of as lovely. It worked for her well.
Smiling, and knowing that she wouldn’t see it in any conscious fashion, he kept his voice calm and a little higher pitched than he normally would have. His voice tended to be deep. In fact, he’d heard himself described as booming, more than once. Being too manly at the moment would leave her feeling frightened however, which wasn’t his goal.
“Could you shut the door please? I… I have a lantern in the truck. Let me run and get that, so we can see? Then I’ll get a fire started?” Doing that meant moving past her again. The warmth of her attracted him.
More than a little. It had, now that he thought about it, been a long time since he’d been alone with a woman. Over a decade, and then, much like now, the lady in question had been there to work, not entertain him. That was the right spirit, so he reminded himself of that fact, and simply moved quickly, pulling the gear he’d brought with him out, carrying the several hundred pounds of materials a bit awkwardly, but without much struggle. It wasn’t the weight that made him feel clumsy, but the lumpy packs and bags that tried to slip from his grasp. There was leather in the mix, along with heavy canvas. Old things that smelled of dust and time to him.
Things from his own attic.
Not that he was going to need survival gear here, but if they were dealing with a nomad then anything could happen. It was why he’d come himself. Just in case that was the real issue. It didn’t seem too likely, since people had been surviving their encounters often enough to claim they saw strange things. That sort didn’t leave survivors as a rule. It might be a young one however. The other idea, one that he didn’t really love to think about, was that it was a group of the things.
In that case he’d probably doomed his show crew to death. Himself as well, but it was his job, the real one, to face that kind of thing. The shape shifters had to take care of their own, because very few others had a chance that way. A couple of the best human warriors with modern weapons might have managed it. Guns were powerful tools, in the hands of one that knew how to use them. Some wizards might also manage things, if they knew what they faced and had enough time to act. Everyone else would need to run. Before they became a target.
In the entire world, there were probably a thousand people that could take on a nomad in a direct fight and live.
There was an ax by the wood pile outside, so he ran back out, and dark or not, stood in the new snow and turned one of the cool log sections out by the covered woodshed to the left into splinters. Kindling. Fires all started small, and grew as fuel was added.
Like love.
Dan held a small arm load of fine pieces of wood. Slivers really. At the same time, he rolled his eyes and smirked. It was a rakish thing, one that he’d practiced long ago, when he still felt things. Thinking about love though was a bit too telling.
It was the woman inside. She reminded him of too many good things from his past. That, and being a woman was probably enough to get him started that way. Isolation wasn’t really a good long-term survival strategy after all. Loneliness could be buried, if a person were busy enough, and worked at something that kept them interested. That trick had been learned by long application of will. Trial and error, too.
Hiding that kind of thing didn’t make it go away, however. So now, confronted with a beautiful woman, Dan felt himself drawn to her a bit more strongly than was safe for the situation. Losing his heart if there was a real threat could cost them both, in the long run.
Moving fast, noticing the temperature holding steady, even as the night grew darker, he got back inside, and explained everything out loud. Meredith was sitting, a bit tensely still, on the large Chesterfield. Sofa, he remembered to call it. This wasn’t Canada after all, and he’d moved south long before. Back then his tribe had been with him.
They’d all moved on, over the course of time.
Mainly by integrating into some of the large cities and living there, as strange as the idea was to him. Dan knew that his failure to do that was a personal weakness. Times had changed, and that meant he needed to as well. Still, he preferred not to be around millions of people at one time.
Without speaking a lot, he moved back to the fire, used the lighter to quickly touch off a bit of glow on a single coal left from the last fire, and then blew constantly as he pressed another piece of black carbon to the amber colored dot. It was the harder way to do it, but would save on lighter fuel. After a minute or two, huffing and puffing in a way that was probably comical to his new friend, holding the burning embers with one hand, he used the other to make a small pile of fire leavings in a bed of cold ash.
It was always harder to start a fire in a chill than not. That was the nature of such things. When things were primed to run hot, it was easy to add fuel. The difficulty was always in getting things going. Keeping them that way took a lot less work.
By piling bits and pieces of charcoal on the two glowing spots, and adding air by blowing, he first had a small collection of heat and light. Then, adding the wood splinters, he created an actual fire. The trick was, he knew, to move no faster than the flame wanted to go. Still, it really didn’t take long that way, and a nice blaze was going a few moments later.
Leaving the front open for light on the giant stove, he turned and got into the pile of gear on the floor. His old Coleman lantern was in there, which needed to be primed, but had fuel enough in it for hours of light. The green metal on the bottom, under the glass, was cold to the touch, since he’d ridden most of the way with the heat off. It just wasn’t that chilly yet.
Not for a being like himself.
It took a bit, but he had light going soon enough. Setting the lantern to the side, on the floor, he looked over at the woman, who was still bundled in her heavy down filled coat. She wisely had gloves on her hands, and though she was in tennis shoes, not boots, that could probably have been forgiven. This storm had come up out of nowhere. It hadn’t even been on the weather reports. The things were a modern marvel, being reliable for the most part now.
To him it was a good sign that they weren’t dealing with a few drunks that were letting their imaginations run wild as far as the sightings went. Weather magic was a thing, after all. One that the nomads knew of, and used to their own benefit by tradition. He could do it himself, in a pinch. That skill wasn’t one that he’d kept up on however, so stopping the incoming snowfall would take him too long to be useful. If he had a day to focus, he could have done it, but the current storm would be over before then. He wasn’t a mage or shaman, after all.
Merry laughed a little, staring at him.
“You’re Danson Meeres? Aren’t you a little young for that? Lacking a few wrinkles, too.”
She leaned forward, inspecting him for signs of age, but wouldn’t find them. Not that he couldn’t have made himself seem older if he’d wanted. Really, he should have changed earlier, when he saw her standing there on the porch. Now if he did it would be a little too obvious. That was what he told himself. The real reason was different. Inside, deep down, he knew that to be the case.
As Danson Meeres, the billionaire eccentric, he could have gotten women. Old men didn’t travel alone very often however, and it would have stood out on his trip, so he’d picked a better shape for it. His own.
Blond hair, with just enough brown in it to make him not look perfectly Aryan. Ice blue eyes that tended to make those that saw them a bit uneasy if his glances lasted too long. Pale skin, since his people came from the ice.
It wasn’t the form the world knew him by, and giving that name had been a mistake. His identifi
cation matched it however, since he had more than one of the things. On him even, just in case he had to prove himself.
Smiling he nodded.
“His grandson. Same name, which you might imagine is a bit of a hassle. My parents thought that naming me ‘Danson’ after him would get me into the will, and might even get the old codger to like me. It worked.” He smiled and shrugged, then kept to the lie that he’d come up with for the event. “Grandfather thinks that I have psychic powers. I really just pay attention, but he wanted me in on this. So, I came. I mean, normally I just make my little wood carvings, then try to sell them to unsuspecting people. That means that he pays for me most of the time. You get the idea… If he wants me to come and look into strange sightings every now and then, I can’t really say no, can I?”
He shrugged, and Merry relaxed for some reason. Probably because she really couldn’t see him yet. He’d claimed to be an artist, which he was. Dan could even show her some of his skills if needed, which was why he’d picked that particular job for his disguise. It also sounded really harmless to most people. Artists in these days were seen as weak and a bit helpless. That wasn’t true and never had been, but the days of the warrior that also created works of beauty were long past.
When daylight came, and she saw what he looked like, the bulge of muscle along his arms and shoulders, and the clean, nearly chiseled lines of his face, her mind might change. That could be prevented though.
She spoke, her face in his direction, but eyes not seeking his. In fact, she was looking at the fire and then over at the lantern. Seeing the bits of safety that he’d brought into being.
“I didn’t know he had a grandson. Or children. Then, who knows much about him? We’ve never met. He hasn’t even done an interview in about thirty years.”
That got a laugh and the truth from him. Honesty was his default after all. It was very hard to lie. Not that he didn’t do it when it came up. Like regular people, his tribe did that well enough, at need. It was just a personal flaw that he had, loving the truth so much. It made things easier, most of the time.
“More like fifty? That kept me out of the limelight. So, is the rest of the team meeting us here?” He looked at the door, hearing the wind pick up, and the snow hitting the side of the log cabin. “If they can, I mean? This thing came from nowhere. I was listening to the reports as I drove up and they didn’t even have that it was supposed to be cloudy.” Not that cold either. It had shifted over the course of an hour from about forty degrees Fahrenheit to nearly perfect snow weather.
That wasn’t normal, but he didn’t want to be too obvious about mentioning that. The show crew mainly did the lower level investigations for him. Little things that weren’t that serious, and could be left alone if they were real. That, or just as often, things that could notice them being there, looking for something special, which would flee, to avoid their attention. They did a lot of work, managing supernatural events that way, before they could become a problem.
If a nomad had come that far south, then they really weren’t all that safe. Luckily, even if there was snow suddenly, the odds of this really being one of the people were incredibly small. Even regular folk could make illusions and control the weather with magic. If they applied themselves well enough. Some could, anyway. About one in ten or so.
True, most of those things were tricks, not the bending of light, or mind, but a man in a monkey suit in the woods really could be mistaken for a bear. Even for a giant. It was a true illusion, if done in a way that was easily understood by most now.
The woman shifted a bit, the tension having left her a bit already, since he’d proved to be a person that should be there and had been useful already. It wasn’t really warm enough for her to do it, but she pulled her gloves off, and shifted forward, reaching out. Her palms gleamed a bit, glowing to match the color of the fire. Reflecting the light and heat with her skin.
As she did, she spoke, her voice softer than before. It wasn’t filled with sex, or need, but there was an undertone that left him feeling glad that he’d come in early.
“So, Dan, you aren’t a psychic?” Her words were wry, and warm.
She was young, he knew. Not even thirty yet. She smiled in his direction too, which filled him with a slight sense of something that he hadn’t felt in far too long.
Companionship.
He chuckled warmly, his voice going to its normal bass. It rumbled a bit, which got her to look at him more closely.
“Not at all. I am pretty good at finding things, and figuring some other stuff out, but it’s just a mental skill. Like math, or logic? A lot of it is subconscious, but that’s what most psychic kind of things are. Just a different part of us working things out.” Which was true. Not that a person couldn’t get access to a lot of things that they wouldn’t otherwise if they could let go of the idea that they shouldn’t be able to.
It wasn’t a sixth sense as much as their mental computer doing some rather fancy and complex projections that let them work out things that consciously would be missed.
The woman nodded at the words, her face a study in complexity. She looked at him, a hint of shyness in it. At the same time her body had turned toward him, showing that was where her attention was going. Her legs were being held together though, so she wasn’t subconsciously trying to get his attention for sex or anything like that.
Then, given that they were in a dark room, alone, and had just met, that wasn’t too surprising. That she hadn’t insisted that he leave was a sign that Meredith had accepted him however. To the level of being willing to consider being friends. That was the important part of the whole thing for him, so he could live with that.
There were in the world, many attractive women. She was one, but that wasn’t all she was. This was a woman that also had a fine mind on her. A skeptic that still was willing to look into the abyss and on occasion realize that what looked back might just not be what was expected.
“Say, would you like something to eat? I got some food in here the other day. I didn’t know how long we’d end up being in the area, so there should be enough to last about three weeks for eight people. We could have stew? Some warm bread? The fire isn’t hot enough for cooking meat yet, but if you don’t mind dining on things from cans we can get it above room temperature.”
The woman snorted softly, and shook her head.
“Ah, this is when I should tell you that I’m a dedicated vegan, isn’t it?” Then there was a laugh and a playful head shake. “I’m not. Stew sounds good. I haven’t had any in years.” She paused, and then seemed to swallow. “You, uh, were offering to make it, weren’t you? I don’t know how to cook.”
Dan blinked, since that seemed off to him. Not that he couldn’t do it, but the idea of not being able to open a can and warm things baffled him. For a moment, he wondered if she were trying to see how willing he was to take care of her. That kind of made sense, given the location and weather outside. Part of her own mind was probably pointing out to her that she needed help to stay alive there.
At least enough to get, and keep, a fire going.
“I was offering. Not that this is a home cooked meal or anything. If you want that, I need some fresher ingredients. Come with me? I’ll need to use the lantern, so it’s going to get dark in here. Besides, that way we can speak without yelling. Not that this place is huge. It would be good for a summer get away, don’t you think?” Moving smoothly, he picked up the lantern, and waited for Meredith to find her feet. She was a bit stiff, from the cold and tension. She was also smart enough to close the front of the stove, before they left the room.
Not that they weren’t safe, the fire being far enough back into the thing that way really. She didn’t know that, so had made certain that it wouldn’t be a problem later. That was one of her main jobs on the team, in fact. Not the one that she’d been hired for, which was science related consulting really. It was the one that she did however, making sure that her people stayed safe. Putting herself at risk first, i
f it had to be done, to protect her fellows.
It was another attractive quality about her. Distractingly so for a moment, which meant Dan was staring at her when she looked up. Without doing more than smiling a bit, having been caught, he led her into the other room. That wasn’t far away, or vast, but it was enough. They could have prepared food for twelve people in there without too many problems. The stove was in the front room, but even that made sense. The entire place was designed to be practical, nothing more.
He’d gotten it from an old man who had lived there with his wife, until her health couldn’t take it any longer. They’d needed the money, and he’d needed a base of operations, so it had worked out well enough for both of them.
Just as they got into the kitchen a blast of frigid air slammed into the cabin hard enough to make the walls creak. The whistling from the trees outside was so loud that the lady behind him stopped suddenly. When he turned, having gone first with the light, which he held to the side, to prevent it from blinding either of them, she looked scared.
She hid that with nervous laughter.
“Okay, so this sounds worse than I expected. Are you sure no one saw this coming? It has to be huge.” Her hands waved, a bit choppily. Held up toward the ceiling of the one-story place, to illustrate the sky beyond the thick logs.
Dan nodded.
“Not a word about it, even as the snow started hitting my window. We’ll be fine here. This place was really well built in the first place, then made stronger over time by the first owner. We have food, and the water lines are all frost free. They go deep, so there will be water.” Another blast hit the house, as he leaned over the boxes he needed, not saying the rest to the woman yet.
She really was smart though and had picked up on what he meant. Even if she didn’t know how to heat a can of stew on her own.
“We’re trapped here already, aren’t we?” Now her voice trembled, and it was kind of clear that she was looking at him when she said it. Not in a shared misery way, either. The fear of him from earlier had returned.
