“From sweetheart to stupid. That was fast.”
His mouth quirked. “Well, you said not to call you sweetheart.” He sobered completely. “I talked to your father several months before he died, when he expressed concern about your situation. I almost expected a visit from you all after your father died, but I didn’t hear from any of you. When the events of yesterday came to my attention, I figured I should be prepared.”
He grabbed her pack from her shoulder and hefted it, ignoring her startled squawk of outrage. Claire stood there fuming while he quickly placed a few more items into it, attached what appeared to be a bedroll, and handed it back to her. “Try that on and see if it’s too heavy.”
She glared at him a moment more, but he merely raised an eyebrow with an air of patience that could last all day. Muttering words her mother would likely box her ears for, she grabbed the pack and shrugged it over her shoulders as he occupied himself with putting a few more things in his own pack and fastening it shut.
Throwing the pack over the shoulder of his long brown overcoat, he looked around the house one more time and nodded. Gesturing for her to follow, he exited the house and shut the door after her. He did something to the door while he murmured words too low for her to hear. By the time he finished and turned to go, the hair on her arms felt as if it were standing at attention.
She grabbed his arm as he walked past her—subconsciously noticing that his arm felt more muscular than it appeared—and narrowed her eyes. “What was that?”
He looked down at her for a long moment, his face completely unreadable, then moved forward, easily pulling his arm out of her grip. “What was what?”
She followed him out of the yard as she struggled with words to explain, then finally threw her hands up. “I don’t know! That.”
“That is not something I’m going to discuss right now.” He looked around, and she noticed there were people walking on the roads now that the sun was high enough in the sky. “Certainly not here.”
If it were something magic related, which was highly likely considering her body’s reaction, she could completely understand his reticence. “Fair enough,” she finally responded. “But we are going to talk about it.” She spoke firmly so he understood she wasn’t going to just let it go.
Disappointingly, the glance he threw her looked more amused than quelled. She sped up so she could walk next to him rather than following him like a child, and they walked in silence for several long minutes as they headed toward the northwest side of town. Drifts of snow lay piled next to the buildings, though the streets were mostly passable. The people they walked by gave them a critical eye when they noticed the packs the two wore, but they were left alone.
“So, why did my father ask you?”
The look he gave her showed irritation mixed with disdain. She reviewed the words in her head and realized the way she had said them might have indicated there was something wrong or lacking in him. She reddened in embarrassment and shame.
“I’m sorry, that didn’t come out how I meant it. I just never heard my father talk about you before he died and wondered why he had asked you to help us.”
He was quiet for several long moments, causing Claire to wonder if he was angry, before he responded, “He didn’t ask. I offered.”
Claire stopped walking, her mouth hanging open as she stared at him in astonishment. “What? Why?”
He moved a few more steps down the road before he stopped, his face unreadable stone and his jaw set. “I had my reasons.”
She walked a few steps toward him. “And those would be?”
His eyes changed color slightly as he stared at her, his face taking on more of a fierce wildness. “Mine.” His mouth formed almost a snarl around the word as he leaned forward, causing her eyes to widen in surprise.
She lifted her hands—to stop him or calm him, she didn’t know—and spoke softly. “All right, I get it. Your reasons were your own. I’m not going to ask again.”
The wildness left him as he watched her, and she saw surprise in his face. “Thank you.”
“Sure.”
As the word left her mouth, a scuffing sound behind them startled them both, causing them to whirl toward it. Two men approached them from an alley nearby, one man carrying a pipe he held in both hands and the other holding a knife.
Glancing around, she saw no one else on the street. They had all scurried away at the first sign of trouble.
Leaving them alone.
Chapter Four
“Give us the packs there, kids, an’ ya won’ be hurt.”
The men coming toward them were older and had scars and tattoos, their clothing and teeth showing they had no acquaintance whatsoever with basic hygiene.
Claire swallowed, then swung her head the other direction when she heard movement there, revealing another man who held a badly-made sword. He was uglier, bigger, and stronger than the first two, though not any better acquainted with soap and water. She groaned, realizing they had stopped to have a disagreement in the one place her father had told her never to come, let alone linger.
“Why did we come this direction?” She swiveled her head between their assailants as the three men came closer.
“This is the way to our destination.” Claire was surprised to hear Logan sounding calm, and glanced back to see him holding out a staff that was perfect for her height.
Her eyes widened. “Where did this come from?”
He put it in her hands. “Take it. See if you can fend the first two off while I take care of the other one.” He nodded at the two men and turned back to the bigger man, pulling a knife she hadn’t noticed out of his belt.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” she yelled at his back.
He turned his head slightly, enough to throw his voice back. “Figure it out, sweetheart.”
She muttered curses at him that he couldn’t have heard, although he laughed for the first time in her hearing, so he must have picked up something.
“And don’t call me sweetheart!” she growled.
Logan chuckled as she turned back to the two men. They were within a few feet of her now, eying her and each other as if not sure who should go first or do what.
“Have you made up your minds, gentleman?” She leaned on the staff just a touch as she looked at the two men. The man on her left had greasy black hair and a beard. The man on her right looked at her with a gleam she didn’t like at all, although he was slightly better groomed than the bearded fellow. She heard fighting behind her.
“Oh, yes.” The lusty man grinned. “We’re definitely taking it all.” The other man grinned back and giggled as he hefted his pipe.
Claire shrugged. “Ok, then. Just making sure.”
Without any warning, she kicked up the bottom of her staff, twisted, and jammed it into lusty man’s stomach, then whipped it up toward his face as he bent over with a groan. The edge caught his chin, whipping his head back, and she twirled the staff in her hands and hit the man over the head. He fell like a rock.
The man with the pipe gaped as she brought the staff over to meet his nose, eliciting a shriek as he fell to his knees. He dropped the pipe to hold his hands over his face. Another twist of the staff and he joined his compatriot on the ground. She stepped to the other side of their bodies and nudged the two, but they were out cold.
Claire turned then leaned lightly on her staff again. The two large men were standing side by side, having paused their fight to watch her. The big ugly brute stared at her slender form in astonishment, while Logan Markham eyed her with a gleam not unlike that of the lusty thug on the ground in front of her. Strangely, she didn’t mind quite so much.
“Need any help?” She smiled sweetly.
His face turned to stone again. He took a half step and pulled the man’s sword arm across his body with his left hand while he backhanded the man’s face with his right, which still held the knife. The man cried out and dropped to the ground after getting the pommel to the head.
“Ok, then.” She twirled the staff in her hands as she watched him. “Thanks for the staff. It was rather useful.”
“Happy to help.” He paused a few steps in front of her and gestured to the side, indicating she should continue on. She stepped forward, kicking the lusty man in the head with her boot again when he moaned. The sound subsided immediately.
She received a raised eyebrow from Logan.
“Just making sure my displeasure with being ‘taken’ is made known.”
His face turned thunderous as he took a step forward, but she hooked his elbow and pulled him with her down the street. “I took care of it already. Let’s get out of here.”
He muttered darkly under his breath but walked with her as they moved on, pulling his arm away.
Sometime later she took the easterly road that led to New Brawn. Hearing a cough behind her, she turned back to see Logan gesturing in the other direction. “This way.”
She frowned, wondering what he was playing at. “This is the way my father told me to go.”
Logan nodded, his hair bouncing with the movement and the slight wind. “And it will get you there.” He gestured behind him. “This way will cut almost two days off our journey.”
Claire hesitated. If she continued on, she would be following her father’s directions. If she followed Logan, she would be entirely dependent on his guidance. What did she know about the man, anyway?
“Are you sure you aren’t taking me somewhere just to have your way with me?”
His face looked more wild at the reminder of the thug they’d left behind, but then cleared and he gave her a lazy grin. “Sweetheart, if that was my intention, we wouldn’t have had to go anywhere. I had a perfectly comfortable bed back at my house.”
She pursed her lips in thought before walking toward him—to follow the road he indicated. “True.”
As she pulled even with the man, who had begun walking next to her, she stretched her staff out to sweep his knees just enough for his legs to buckle. He staggered a few steps.
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” she threw over her shoulder as she continued walking.
The muttered cursing behind her made her smile.
Chapter Five
Claire looked out from the rock she sat on with her knees drawn up in front of her. They were camped at the tip of a peninsula that jutted into the middle of the bay, and she watched the deep pinks, blues, and purples of the sunset behind the clouds.
She heard slight noises to indicate that Logan was moving around the fire behind her. The two of them had traveled for hours before reaching a tiny abandoned harbor where he had a small rowboat hidden in some brush. They had reached their current campsite just as the sun hit the trees in the distance, completely distracting Claire for the better part of an hour.
“Ready for some food?”
His voice startled her since a peaceful quiet had crept up on her while she watched the sunset. Turning her head, she saw Logan holding out a steaming mug with a utensil standing up in it. Claire’s stomach let out a moaning growl of protest. She straightened in surprise, pressing a hand to her belly.
“Apparently so.” She accepted the offered mug and sniffed at the stew. “Thank you.” She scooted over in case he decided to join her on the large rock. There weren’t many other seating options. She adjusted her position, so the edges of the rock weren’t digging into her skin.
Logan stood for a moment but finally sat down stiffly on the other end of the rock. He turned slightly away, so she mostly saw his back and the side of his face. After a few blows to cool the stew, she took a bite and found it surprisingly tasty, making a noise of appreciation that drew a tiny smile from the man.
“Did your father teach you how to fight?”
“Oh, we’re talking now, are we?” Claire couldn’t help teasing him since she had tried for almost an hour to get the man to say something—anything—as they walked earlier in the day. He had completely closed down for some reason she had yet to ascertain. Still, if she answered some questions, perhaps he would give her information in return. This man was a huge question mark she was surprised to find herself curious about.
Logan responded now with a faint smile she could barely see in the last light of the day. Hopefully, he recognized how ridiculous it had been and wouldn’t give her his stone-face impression again. She would be happy to see that look go.
“Yes, some of it. My mother also taught us, to the surprise of anyone who knew her.”
“I never met your mother,” he responded slowly as if he were trying to be careful with his words. “Why was it so surprising that she taught you how to fight?”
Claire coughed a laugh, thinking how ironic it was to have a graceful and kind woman with little to no attitude ruthlessly teach her daughter throws and holds designed to fell men twice her size. She tried to explain this to Logan and found herself rambling on sometime later about a time her brother James refused to fight his mother, their emptied mugs sitting beside them.
“And my mother just looked at James—this woman about my height, but gentle and wise, looked up at her six-foot-tall, strong son—and he just wilted.” She chuckled and was warmed to hear Logan laughing with her. “He never refused to fight after that.”
“Did he ever win?” His voice sounded intense.
“Oh, no. Mother always won. Or I did.”
That elicited a grunt.
Claire tilted her head and peered at him even though she could barely make the man out in the firelight. “Why so interested?”
She felt more than saw his shrug. “Just curious. It’s not every day a girl fells two men in less than fifteen seconds.”
Claire stared at Logan for a moment, letting him know she wasn’t buying it, but couldn’t resist. “It sure seemed to distract you. That man could have popped you in the head while you weren’t looking.”
Logan twisted his body around to face her, his strength evident in the quick move. “I was paying attention.”
She smiled in amusement at his defensive tone. “Sure you were.”
He frowned. “I was.”
“I agreed with you.” Claire grinned. Teasing him was even more fun than teasing James. That thought deflated her as the grief rose, amusement disappearing entirely.
Logan picked up on her mood shift. “I’m sorry.” He held himself a little stiffly, but she sensed he was trying to comfort her.
“It wasn’t your fault.” If anything, his body became more rigid, not less. She shrugged, not knowing what else to say.
They sat there for another moment before she began to feel uncomfortable, both from her position on the rock and the measure of silence between them.
“Well, I’m going to try to sleep.” She slid to the ground and began to walk over to her pack. When he didn’t move, she turned back. “Goodnight.”
His form remained so still and stiff he could have been cut from the rock he sat on. Huffing a breath, she spread her bedroll before the fire, muttering comments about stoic men and their silences. It took a moment to realize that the snow had been cleared from around the fire and a few bows of evergreen had been laid on either side so they wouldn’t lay on the cold ground.
Well, now she felt bad for thinking negative thoughts about the man.
Rolling herself up, she turned to face the fire, becoming mesmerized by the flickers of flame. As she began to drop off to sleep, she had a final thought.
Logan definitely had secrets.
She hoped none of them would bite her.
Chapter Six
Claire slept the sleep of the physically and emotionally exhausted, knowing nothing at all until Logan woke her the next morning. He was still as silent as he had been the night before, which put her in a wonderfully irritable mood. If he wasn’t going to talk, she wasn’t going to make him. Light-and-snarky Logan was a lot easier to handle than dark-and-broody Logan.
After
rowing across the rest of the bay, they spoke little as they took a snow laden path to the southwest that only he could see, apparently. She could barely tell there was a track as they walked. The undergrowth that had built up over the last decades certainly helped to disguise it, but the snow had topped it off. Finally, hours after lunch, she saw shimmers of light in the distance.
When they emerged from the forest, there was a town that had been largely left to decay on a harbor at the edge of a bay. Claire followed Logan toward it, becoming so distracted by the glimpses of lives from the distant past that she eventually ended up running to catch up. She couldn’t get over how much had been left to rot.
Her father had told her stories of the World’s Worst Day Ever, the day the world had stopped. Nothing had ever been the same after that. What was even worse was that just when humanity had started to recover, they had entered the mad times. Her mother had shuddered every time someone had hinted about those. Claire lived in a time that wasn’t great, but from the few stories she had heard and the history taught in school, she was lucky to have missed that time altogether.
Logan didn’t stop to wait for her. Perhaps he didn’t want to linger in this eerie graveyard of houses, or perhaps he couldn’t wait to be done with the task that he had volunteered for. The thought sank into her stomach like a small weight, but she didn’t know what to do with it. She did what she had always done when faced with uncertainty—shoved it to the side and kept walking.
James had called it being stubbornly stupid.
James.
Her steps faltered for a moment.
Claire shoved those thoughts to the side too.
It wasn’t until the travelers reached the outskirts of the town that Claire began to see movement. A few streets later there was a lot more activity, people ambling from one place to another. Strangely, many of the inhabitants were well over the age of thirty, and most were over forty. There were no children or young people in view, and the noise level was strangely low for the number of people visible.
Tales from the Kurtherian Universe: Fans Write For The Fans: Book 3 Page 19
