The Blooded Ones

by Elizabeth Brown

  The room appeared empty when she risked peeking out from the furs, and she was relieved. She did not want to face him, unwilling to let him tear down her defenses. If he were in her time, he would be a goner after the way he treated her, dismissing her in front of his friend. She was not raised to tolerate that sort of behavior from a man, in his time or any other. A bitter frown formed as she recalled her last real date, disastrous, as it had been.

  His name was Josh, a fellow student in her college Biology class, and he had asked her out several times before she said yes. Grampa had been sick for weeks and she was reluctant to leave him, but the old man knew she needed to get out of the house and he insisted she go. It wasn’t that she disliked Josh, in fact he was a handsome athletic man and he certainly turned her head when he walked in the room, but she felt little interest in cultivating a relationship. Although she had been attending college for a year, there had been little time to even think about dating. Between running the farm and worrying over Grampa, her plate was full.

  After a pleasant but uneventful dinner, Josh took her to a movie. She recalled putting popcorn between them at one point, but he was persistent in his advances, and managed a few kisses and poorly aimed gropes anyway. Nothing earth shattering, and certainly nothing to cause her blood to simmer.

  The night ended with Josh parking his car in the driveway of the farm, a single gravel lane that the main farmhouse shared with the cottage. Maggie didn’t mind when he kissed her goodnight, expecting it would be the quickest way to end their evening before she jumped out of the car, but she was stunned when he continued to slather her mouth with his as she reached for the door handle. She was not interested in a petting fest in the driveway. She shoved him off and he came back for more.

  “Goodnight Josh!” she snapped when she was able to come up for air.

  “Not yet, babe,” he insisted. She screeched when one of his hands slipped inside the top of her blouse. Her desperate hand found the door latch, and she fell out of the car onto the gravel. Sprawled on her backside as she righted her blouse, she was speechless when her amorous date was yanked out of the car by a pair of very muscled arms.

  Next thing she knew, a hulking mad giant stood spread legged beside the car with her date held by his neck. The veins stood out on his neck in thick cords and his usually gentle face was paved with a scarlet mask and no sign of remorse.

  “Agh! Oof! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” her date gurgled as his face turned purple.

  Josh choked out a stuttered apology, and Marcus slowly let the younger man down from where he held him several feet off the ground. Maggie watched as Josh scrambled into his car. He gunned it down the driveway, spewing a cloud of gravel smoke as he retreated.

  Maggie burst into laughter at the sight of her date fleeing. She knew it would be a long time before any of her classmates asked her out again, but the notion did not bother her so much. Marcus raised one thick black eyebrow at her and shook his head in disgust.

  “Ye think that’s funny, Maggie?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes, I do!” she laughed.

  “Are you all right?” the older man asked finally as her amusement faded. He looked out of character at that moment, still the enormous beast of a man who had been her protector since childhood, but when his shoulders slumped in relief and he reached for her hand, she knew something was more amiss than just her disastrous date.

  “What is it, Marcus?”

  His lips thinned and his normally twinkling blue eyes clouded over. His brogue sounded thick and hesitant when he answered.

  “It’s yer grandpa. You better come inside.”

  Grandpa never did wake up after that night.

  Maggie sat up in the furs and brushed back her tears, stowing the bitter memory away. Marcus must be worried sick about her disappearance. But it was no use thinking of the past. Or her future past. Or whatever it was properly considered now. She needed to get it together and figure out a way out of her current mess, regardless of what year it was. The knife lay discarded on the furs. She crawled over to the bowl of water and used it to rinse her mouth, then tied the wayward fastening of her doeskin dress to some semblance of decency before Teyas burst into the yehakin.

  Teyas collapsed onto her knees in front of Maggie and took her hands in her own. The girl spread them wide, raking her over with a practiced eye, then broke into a wide smile of relief. Maggie squinted at her, wondering what on Earth the girl was up to.

  “I knew my brother told lies!” she exclaimed.

  “What are you talking about, Teyas?”

  “He told the Council he punished you for your crime. He said he beat you, but I knew he told false,” she answered smugly in her glee. Maggie pulled her hands away and sat back on her heels. So that was his game, huh? Tell the other men he beat her into submission? Well, Winn had another thing coming!

  “That arrogant—”

  “No! Do not be angry, sister!”

  “And why not?” Maggie seethed. “He’s a liar!”

  “Maggie,” Teyas smiled, taking her hands back and placing them in her lap between them. “Your ways are so strange. I do not understand your anger. My brother shows great love for you in this way. He risks much by telling a half truth.”

  “He can shove it. And if he ever touches me again, I will—”

  “You will what? Stab me with your knife?”

  Both women went silent when Winn passed through the door. With one glance at his agitated stare, Maggie averted her eyes and refused to acknowledge him. She held her breath to keep from returning his taunt with one of her own, aware that she tread precariously after attacking him with her blade. She rose from the furs and motioned to Teyas to follow.

  “We have chores to do, right Teyas?”

  “Ah, well – ” the girl stammered.

  “I need to see to Blaze, and I am taking my clothes to the river to be washed. My dress is ruined, and my only spare is covered in mud, thanks to that moody savage brother of yours. Stay if you want, but I’m getting to work,” Maggie said. She frowned at the way Teyas glanced at Winn for approval, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. With a shrug, Maggie grabbed her basket of clothes and moved to pass Winn, tucking her knife in the thong at her waist and hoping he did not notice. She should have known it would not have been so easy.

  He stopped her with one hand closed around her upper arm, not painful, but still firm. She refused to look at him, but she felt his breath close on the skin of her neck as he bent his mouth to her ear.

  “You may go,” he said simply. She bit back a harsh retort and jerked her arm from his grasp, annoyed that he felt the need to give her permission to leave and frustrated that she was incapable of submitting to him. With each passing day she felt she was slipping away from the independent modern woman she once was, instead becoming like all the other women around her.

  Stepping out into the daylight, she stalked away from the house with a purposeful stride toward the river. She still had her knife, and she would stab him with it if he dared make any more advances on her. He would not find her hesitant again.

  She vowed not to cry as she navigated the path to the river. Damn his blasted heathen heart. Perhaps she would jump in the river and drift downstream, surely someone would help her. As attractive as the notion was, she knew it would be foolish. She knew little of this time, nor how to live alone in the wilderness and survive. She was trapped here just as surely as if he tied her to a post. She bowed her head in frustration and kicked at the dirt in her path. When she heard the racket of none too careful footsteps behind her, she swung around in a fury to confront her stalker.

  “Leave me alone. I have work to do,” she muttered.

  Winn grinned when she turned and spoke. She had no idea what he found so humorous, and his chuckle enraged her to the point of violence. She gripped the basket until her fingers throbbed with the effort.

  “What is so goddamn funny, Winn?” she asked.

  “I should pretend to beat you every
day, if that is what it takes to make you work,” he laughed. She snorted a low curse in reply and turned on her heel, continuing down the path to the river. She would not let him bait her into attacking him, although every sliver of her being wanted to scratch the smile from his handsome face.

  “Nothing to say, Tentay teh?”

  “Go away.”

  “I would have words with you. Stop walking.”

  She stopped on his command, but kept her back to him as she stepped off the path. She felt him beside her, felt his stare sear her skin. His words dripped of heat as they rolled smoothly off his tongue. She refused to look at him, afraid one glimpse of his smoldering eyes would render her senseless.

  “Yes?”

  “You call me savage? The English use that word as well.”

  “Well, you act like it,” she said.

  “Why do you have anger at me?”

  “You treated me like a whore.”

  “Hore?”

  A deep sigh escaped her as a huff, and she kneeled down to the riverbank where she could wash her clothes. She hoped he would tire of talking and just leave her alone.

  “It means – it means a bad woman. A woman who does bad things. One who sleeps with any man,” she said, at loss to define it for him and blushing as she tried. He frowned as he considered her explanation, and then grinned sheepishly when he realized her meaning. But Maggie was surprised to see his eyes darken again after his initial display of amusement.

  “Is that what you think?”

  “Yes, Winn. If we were in my time, and did—we did those things,” she stammered, “and then you treated me so badly in front of your friends, I would never speak to you again. You don’t just kiss a woman, then toss her around and holler at her. How can you expect me to be okay with that?”

  “This is not your time, it is mine,” he answered, with no trace of harsh intent. “Women do not challenge their men. I would kill a man for less than what you have done to shame me.”

  “I’m not your woman.”

  “I found you. You belong to me.”

  “This is useless! I just want to go home. Why is that so hard for you to get through your thick head?”

  He tilted his head a bit and grinned when he realized the meaning of her insult.

  “Why do you not understand I cannot let you leave?”

  “Because I can’t just give up. If you were me, wouldn’t you do the same?”

  Neither offered an answer. She filled the silence by slapping her wet dress against a rock to rub it clean. He sat down a few feet away on the riverbank and watched her.

  “Yes,” he said softly. “I would do the same.”

  She looked up at him. His eyes were soft blue orbs as he watched her, briefly lingering before he lowered his head, his braid falling over one brown shoulder.

  “What fills your day, in your time?”

  She startled at the earnest question, and dared a glance his way. He sat cross-legged in the grass, leaning forward on his knees. His eyes followed her movements without a semblance of threat. She felt her skin prickle in a warm rush and quickly turned back to her work.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I would hear it.”

  “If I tell you, will you stop pestering me?”

  He considered her offer, and agreed with a curt nod.

  “I will go back to the village,” he promised.

  “Fine! I went to college during the day, and then I came home. I took care of my grandfather. I looked after the farm. I kept it running pretty well.”

  “You lived with only your grandfather?”

  “Yes. Well, no. Marcus lived with us. He was like family.”

  “Like a husband?”

  “No, like family. He looked out for me. He was like—like an older brother. Or an uncle. I never had a father.”

  He scowled and changed his tactics. Maggie was stunned when he tossed a pebble at her, hitting her backside. The gesture seemed playful, and completely out of line.

  “What is college?” he asked. She picked up a sizeable stone and considered launching it at him, but let it drop, annoyed as two more pebbles struck her thigh in quick succession.

  “A place people go to learn. We sit in rooms and listen to other people who teach,” she answered.

  He joined her at the creek and took one of her garments from the basket, which he began scrubbing against the stones next to her. She scowled but said nothing.

  “What you told me of your time… my people. Is nothing left of us, nothing at all?”

  She stopped squeezing water from her dress, and glanced sideways at him. His furrowed brow sheltered his eyes as he continued to work on the garment in his hand.

  “Winn … I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “I asked you. I wanted to know.”

  She slipped her fingers over his hand, the urge to comfort him as strong as the reflex of taking another breath, wishing she could take away the anguish shadowed in his eyes. How could she comfort such a man? A man she watched rise to her defense against a bear, not knowing who she was, only that she needed saving. A man who acted in the moment, who took the life of another warrior that threatened her, without hesitation or question.

  How could she console him, when it was her own words that caused him such misery? The guilt hit her hard. What right did she have to tell him what the future would bring? As for specific dates and years that events would happen, she was useless. She knew the basics, but she had never been an ardent student of history.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. His calloused thumb moved against her hand, then squeezed it, only a gentle motion, but enough for her to hear the words he left unspoken. She did not want to move, afraid to shatter the tenuous strings binding them in the moment, unwilling to lose any ground when they worked so hard for every inch of the fragile peace between them.

  She saw him swallow as he abruptly pulled his hand away and stood up.

  Chetan walked toward them on the path, chuckling at the sight of them washing clothes together. His son followed behind, also bearing a curious grin, but too respectful to laugh at Winn as his father did. Chetan obviously had no such compulsion, holding a fist against his lower belly as he goaded Winn.

  “Will you wash my clothes as well, brother?”

  Winn pursed his lips for a moment, then one corner of his mouth crested into a grin.

  “No, you are not quite as pretty, you can wash your own clothes,” Winn shot back. He tossed the dress he had wrung out into the basket, and playfully snatched the basket from her hands.

  “I’m not done with that!” she said, trying to take the basket back. Much to her annoyance, he dodged her hands, dropping her basket to impishly deflect her attempt to recover it. If she did not clean what few clothes she had, she would have nothing presentable to wear to the feast, and she was bone tired of feeling like the beggar visitor.

  “Yes, we are done here,” he argued, laughing.

  Frustrated beyond measure, she swung around back to the creek bed.

  “I answered your questions, now you can leave,” she said.

  “As you wish!” he grinned. She had no sooner bent back to her task when he swept her up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, slapping his palm against her buttocks when she kicked out.

  “You liar!” she screeched, furious at being treated yet again like a piece of property.

  “I said I would go back to the village. I did not say you could stay here.”

  She reached out to strike him, but when her fist hit his back he slapped her bottom again, this time with more authority. She realized they had reached the village, and that people stared open mouthed at the warrior carrying the crazed flame-haired woman. She remembered his warning about defiance in front of the villagers and clamped her mouth shut. When he finally entered the yehakin and dropped her to her feet, she stalked off to the corner and sat with her back to him.

  “I won’t stay here! I have things to do! You left my clothes at the
river, now I have nothing to wear!”

  “You will stay here until I say you may leave. If you leave again I will tie you. Do you understand?”

  “Don’t threaten me.”

  “Then behave!” he bellowed. He kicked a fur closer to the fire and thrust out his hand toward it. “Sit,” he demanded. She hesitated long enough to see the spike of rage cross his face, then decided it would be wise to heed his request. Slowly lowering herself down to sit on the fur, she met his furious gaze without yield.

  “Opechancanough sends his advisor to see how our people fare,” he began. Maggie let him speak without interruption, her curiosity sparked when he spoke of his family. She knew little about him other than what she gleaned from his sister and mother, which was next to nothing. They would not hear of her desire to leave, and placated her with assurances that Winn would keep her safe – as if that was a consolation.

  “My uncle has much hate for the white settlers, and he wishes to make them go back across the great sea to their own land. He grows tired of their demands and would see every white man dead.” His throat tightened as he continued, and a shadow of disgust fell over his face. “I serve him as council to the whites. I speak their English, and I eat at their tables. I learn their ways, so I can see their lies to my people.”

  “So that’s why you speak English so well,” she murmured. He nodded.

  “My uncle sent word of his plans to rid us of the English. It will happen soon. He wants my help, as I have always given him.” He paused and looked away for a moment, then shifted his eyes back to her. “Nemattanew has heard whispers of a Time Walker in the village…I think he knows you are a Blooded One.”

  “Nemattanew?” she stammered. “I don’t understand.”

  “Listen, woman! Nemattanew will tell my uncle a Blooded One is here. Opechancanough will demand your death…and it must be done.”

  Her teeth slid over her bottom lip and squeezed as she felt a wave of nausea surge up her throat. She leaned forward to fight the urge and slowly felt it wane.