by Shea Balik
With eleven children under ten years old, another eight between eleven and seventeen, only four of the nineteen still had at least one parent still alive. They had run again, but traveling with that many, unable to handle the children’s needs, and some injuries severe enough that walking was impossible, they hadn’t made it far.
It had been a miracle to have found a place that, hopefully, would trick the Fae into believing they weren’t there, or even if they did know where they were, they wouldn’t be able to get in.
“What about Fianna and the others?” he croaked out as he tried to sit up only to fall back onto the cot when a wave of dizziness rushed over him. He’d pushed himself too hard and Ruth was right, he still needed to rest, but if any of the members of their little group were injured it would be his fault and he had to go help them.
Ruth shook her head. “I haven’t dared to open the hatch yet,” Ruth admitted. “When Fianna and the others went out there, the area was swarming with those monsters.” Ruth whispered that last part so the kids wouldn’t hear her and start to panic again.
“You have to help me get up,” Logan told her. “I need to see if any of them need my help.”
Ruth let out a very unladylike snort. “Child, we both know those who survived are long gone.”
Yeah, he did. It was one of the reasons he’d decided to heal the ones he had. At least five of the six had been planning to abandon their little group the moment they were able to take more than ten steps before collapsing.
It had pained Logan to use the magic he had woken up with that morning on them, but if the Veil was closed, his plan had worked. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to use…”
“Don’t,” Ruth cut him off. “I understand why you did it and if I’m honest, I’m glad I wasn’t the one who had to go out there.” Truth shone from her soft blue eyes. “You won’t hear any complaints from me if it takes a few more days for these old bones to heal.”
Logan rolled his eyes dramatically like some of the teens in their group often did. “Please, Ruth. We all know you’re more agile than anyone here.” His gaze landed on their resident acrobat in training. “Well, maybe not Ailsa but let’s face it, there aren’t too many people who can bend their bodies like she can.”
Case in point, she was currently sitting there reading with her chest to the floor and back bowed upward so she could rest her feet on the floor by her ears. Ruth chuckled as she looked over at the nine-year old. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that limber.”
When Logan tried to sit up again, Ruth slowly stood and held out a hand to him. He tried not to put too much weight on her. Ruth was sixty-eight, not that anyone would know it from looking at her. Usually. Since that attack, she was stooped over from bruises along her back when one of the pets sent her flying into a tree. She was lucky to even be alive.
Nausea rose up from his stomach. Forcing it back down, Logan finally managed to get to his feet only to find every single pair of eyes on him. He wasn’t sure what he hated to see more, the fear that seemed to always be present, or the defeat that was starting to settle in each time they fought the Fae’s creatures.
“Are you gonna check if the monsters are still out there?” Maisie asked. Her lips trembled as if it had taken every bit of courage for her to say the words. Not that he could blame her. At only seven, this had to be terrifying for her.
He was twenty-one, and Logan’s entire body was shaking from the thought of having to face those beasts again, especially since his magic wouldn’t help stop them from attacking him. But Logan nodded, determined to do what he had to in order to keep everyone safe. “Yes, I am, angel.”
Patting her on the head as he passed her, Logan went to the ladder that led to a sort of manhole, that was covered with a piece of material that resembled dirt. It wasn’t perfect, which was how they had found the bunker, but after putting dirt onto the cloth, as well as gluing some of the dried grass Logan had gathered shortly after arriving, even he had troubling finding his way back inside when he went on supply runs.
Slowly, and with the help of Ruth and Cairn, one of the men, who had broken his leg in the last attack and was only now able to stand with the use of crutches, Logan made his way up the rungs of the ladder. Using strength he really didn’t have, Logan managed to push open the hatch just enough to scan the area.
Only seeing mounds of unmoving bodies strewn about, Logan swung open the heavy metal door. Taking several deep breaths to clear the continued fog that kept trying to envelop him and send him hurdling back down the ladder, Logan made it to the ground above.
Lying there for several minutes as his world spun from the exertion, Logan did his best to keep his eyes open in fear of one of the creatures rising up and attacking him. But none of them moved.
Praying that meant he was safe, for now at least, Logan didn’t try to stand, instead choosing to only go to his hands and knees. With no one there to steady him, he’d felt this would be a safer option until he got all of his strength back.
Who would have thought when he’d woken up that morning that the day would turn out like it had? But from the moment he’d opened his eyes to awaken on his twenty-first birthday, Logan had known his purpose in life.
To heal.
There were no words for the power he could feel coursing through him. It was as if there was energy flowing in his veins instead of blood. But it wasn’t to be used to kill the Fae, it was only to heal those who were injured. To mend torn flesh and broken bones.
He had used it on six of the adults he’d heard making plans to flee their group at the first opportunity. They’d been grumbling for quite some time about all the ‘dead weight’ of having to protect so many children.
Since they’d been prepared to leave anyway, Logan had decided to heal them with the promise that they would perform the ritual. It had been a gamble. A big one. For they could have just as easily taken off and left everyone else to fend for themselves.
Knowing that was possible, Logan had waited until the sun had just begun to make its descent. Even now, more than an hour after the six had come topside, it wasn’t fully dark. By waiting, Logan had ensured, if the Veil was going to open nearby, the six men and women he’d healed would have to perform the ritual or end up being chased by the beasts that would come from the Fae realm and into the human world.
Based on the sea of creatures that were all around, Logan’s gamble had paid off. Except… his gaze narrowed on several of the bodies. Blood from deep wounds soaked into the earth. Of the six who had come up there, one quite literally exploded the creatures into a million pieces. Another could make them boil from the inside causing foam to pour out of their mouths. While a third one was capable of liquefying the creatures.
The other three had no ability to harm the Fae’s monsters but Logan had hoped while the other three killed the beasts, they would perform the ritual. Since the Veil was closed and it appeared that all the creatures were dead, they did exactly that.
So, how did so many of the animal-like beings end up bleeding with their flesh sliced open? Logan was no expert when it came to fighting, but he could tell most had been made with a blade of some sort.
After ten minutes of crawling around, Logan managed to finally get to his feet. His body was recovering after using his gift to heal the six. He had no idea it would take so much out of him, but it was hard to regret doing it when it had resulted in saving those in the bunker.
Slowly, he walked around. His heart dropped when he found the first body of one of the men he chose for this task. His body had been ripped apart. Crushing guilt had his eyes filling with tears.
Logan had been the reason the man was there in the first place. He might not have died if not for that. Wishing he could take it all back, Logan turned to find another of the six lying on the ground staring sightlessly up to the sky.
The tears that had been threatening, spilled down his cheeks. Neither of them had deserved to die. Hell, none of them had, but no matter how much t
hey ran or fought back, it seemed as if someone was always dying.
He continued to walk around, making sure everyone was in fact dead so those in the bunker would be safe. Bile rose up in his throat when he looked down to find Wallace with his heart ripped out. His body was literally lying in between the head and body of a man Logan didn’t recognize.
Slapping a hand over his mouth to stop the vomit from leaving his body, Logan forced himself to breath in and out of his nose. There was just something so… macabre about seeing the man without his head.
As much as it grossed him the hell out to go over and pick that head up, it was as if Logan had no choice in the matter. Seeing someone without his head, was just too… wrong. A shudder worked its way through his body as he bent down to lift the head up.
Disgusted, Logan took the three steps to the stranger’s headless body. “Huh,” he said to no one since there wasn’t anyone alive to hear him. “Apparently, you believe in being well-armed.”
The body was large, with bulging muscles. His lower half was encased in leather with straps that held at least six knives he could easily see. The guy’s upper half – don’t look above the neck, don’t do it – was covered with a skin tight t-shirt and thick leather straps that crossed over his chest. Logan wasn’t about to turn him over, but he figured it crossed over his back as well.
All sorts of weapons were sheathed along his torso from knives to several guns. How anyone could walk, much less fight with that much weight on him wasn’t something Logan hoped he’d ever find out.
Gently, Logan set the head down. Why he took care? Logan couldn’t say. For some reason, the fact that a stranger would help them, made Logan want to honor this brave man. It may never be appreciated, but hopefully, one day, someone would show him the same kindness.
“It pays to be well-armed when fighting the Fae.”
Logan screamed and stumbled over bodies to get away from the decapitated stranger. “No. I did not just hear him speak. It’s not possible. I had to have imagined it.”
That made sense. Logan had used a lot of energy with his magic and he was still drained.
“You didn’t imagine anything.”
Logan screamed again, this time running toward the hole in the ground that would take him away from his worst nightmare.
Stumbling down the ladder in a panic, he slammed the cover shut.
“Logan,” Ruth said, her eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong? Were there still…” his eyes went to the kids who were staring openly at them. She turned her body to block them from seeing her lips move. “Monsters out there?” she whispered.
Logan’s head was already moving side to side as he tried to find his voice. But each time he opened his mouth, he couldn’t seem to make anything come out.
“Logan,” Ruth’s voice came out like a whip.
It wasn’t doing much good for the nerves of those in the bunker, but it did as it was intended. For this time when Logan opened his mouth his voice worked. “I think I’ve created a zombie.”
CHAPTER 3
The thing about healing after something like being decapitated was, it took forever. In some ways, like speaking, Brandr just needed the connection of nerves to be in place even if they hadn’t exactly mended. But to move?
Yeah. For that, unless he wanted to risk his head being separated from his body yet again, he had to wait until the muscle and tendons, as well as skin, not only stitched back together, but became strong enough to hold his head on his body.
Which meant he had to just lie there and wait. If he’d been with his friends, they would have built a stretcher and carried him back home, but since the man who’d helped him had run screaming from him, Brandr doubted he was going to get that kind of help any time soon.
He wouldn’t have minded – much – but he feared that man he’d terrified had been the one he’d been hoping to find. Logan.
It probably wasn’t a good thing to have the man fate destined to be his run away from him. Nor had it been wise, in hindsight, to say anything and scare several years off Logan’s life. There was zero doubt in Brandr’s mind that when he could move again, he would have a lot of groveling to do.
He’d have plenty of time to come up with ways to do that. The last time he’d been decapitated, it had taken four long days before he could walk around. Two, before he could eat, not that he’d have that chance with no one to give him food.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Warmth spread through Brandr as he heard the voice that he was fairly certain belonged to Logan. He had no idea who he was talking to, but at least he was returning. Reluctantly, from the sounds of it.
“For the last time, Logan, he’s not a zombie,” a woman chided him.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t make me feel any better that he was cursed.” Now that he knew it was Logan, Brandr couldn’t stop the smile from forming.
Finally, he was going to meet the man who was destined to be his. Talk to him. Hopefully. After running off the last time, Brandr wasn’t entirely sure Logan wouldn’t do so again.
Not that he could blame the man. That Logan even picked up his head and joined it to his body was something Brandr never would have imagined. There weren’t too many people willing to do something like that. But then to have that head start talking?
It was worth running away from. The thinking he was some sort of zombie? That was bit weird. But Brandr’s life was the definition of weird, so that wasn’t entirely new.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” the woman told Logan as they were clearly getting closer since it was easier to hear their conversation. “The cursed ones are meant to protect us, not harm us.”
If he weren’t afraid of terrifying Logan again, Brandr would have shouted out a hallelujah that at least one druid who knew of their existence didn’t think they were the devil incarnate. Instead, he kept his mouth shut and waited patiently for Logan to appear. True, he really didn’t have much of a choice in the matter since he couldn’t move, but Brandr really was a patient man. Most of the time.
Okay, so technically he probably wouldn’t be considered all that great at waiting but he was far better at it than his friends. Arne would have started bitching about it taking the pair too damn long to get over to him.
“Well, he didn’t protect Wallace, Ewan, or Theresa,” Logan grumbled.
Brandr might have taken offense to that considering he’d been decapitated, but there was something in Logan’s voice that had him curious instead. He would swear he’d heard guilt in Logan’s tone.
“Stop that,” the woman chided. “This wasn’t your fault any more than the cursed ones and you know it. We all know the risks of being druid, especially this past year.”
The Fae had begun attacking more often. Even managing to punch holes in the Veil between rituals. They would do whatever they could to stop the druids from being able to seal the Veil. Even if that meant killing every druid in the world.
“I shouldn’t have healed them.” There was something so damn sad in Logan’s voice that it took all of Brandr’s willpower not to call out to him. As much as he wished otherwise, Brandr knew his effort wouldn’t offer the comfort he intended it to.
Then the two came into view. Brandr was thankful he had more patience than Arne, that was for sure. The woman who was with Logan was clearly in a lot of pain as she leaned heavily on Logan, who didn’t appear to be doing well himself as they shuffled closer.
“See,” the woman pointed. “He’s just a man who can’t die because of a curse.”
Apparently, Logan found that hilarious because he started laughing so hard his face flushed bright red and tears leaked from his eyes. “Is that all?” Logan managed to get out while trying to catch his breath.
The woman shook her head and glanced down at Brandr. “Sorry about him. He’s still young. My name is Ruth and as much as I would love to offer to move you into a more comfortable position, I fear none of us are in any condition to help you at the m
oment.”
None of them? That had Brandr wondering how many there were and what was wrong with them? Most likely too many altercations with the Unseelie pets, but there could be other reasons. Which meant he was needed. But with his own injury that was impossible.
“I have a med kit behind some rocks to the northwest of me,” he risked saying, hoping he didn’t scare Logan more than he already had. “Unfortunately, it will be a couple of days before I can even move enough to do much good in examining them, but the supplies should help with any infections or stitching.”
Logan had ended up jumping backward when he first spoke, but the longer Brandr talked, the more he must have piqued Logan’s curiosity, for he started to inch his way closer.
“How are you able to speak?” Logan finally asked.
But Ruth didn’t give him any time to answer when she pushed Logan in the direction Brandr had indicated his med kit was. “Not now, child. Tyree has been running a fever that won’t break. If this man has medication, we need to get it to him.”
Instantly, all of Brandr’s training kicked in. “What kind of fever?” he asked. “Is it because of an infection or did he get sick?”
Logan, who hadn’t gone to get the kit like Ruth told him to, stood there stubbornly. “I told you I’d heal Tyree next.”
That only made Ruth sigh. But it had Brandr silently cursing that he had to lie there when he wanted to stand up and confront Logan about what he meant by ‘healing’ someone.
“And what about Bonnie or Joffrey, who aren’t as sick, but are getting worse?” Ruth’s tone wasn’t harsh, but she made it clear she didn’t think Logan could fix everyone. “And then there’s Cairn, Dalziel, and Perth, who all have broken limbs as well as the multitude of other injuries the others have.”
Ruth placed a kind hand on Logan’s bowed shoulders. “Honey, you can’t do it all. It’s just not possible. Look what happened to you after you healed Wallace and the others.”