Flight by Numbers

by Kimberly A Rogers

  Another two days passed without a single glimpse of Mathias. Or even a note left on the table. Worry ate at me as I brushed out my hair, preparing for another night of fitful dreams. All I could hope was that he hadn’t run into another predatory monster in the moors. I touched my throat. The bruises left by the Fuath had faded almost entirely, but the memory of suffocating while the monster leaned in close with its black serrated teeth gleaming wetly in the moonlight still hovered close to the surface. I had jolted out of a nightmare twice because of that encounter. The other nightmares centered on Mathias, searching for him and realizing he had abandoned me or, worse, finding him cold and lifeless because of me. I couldn’t explain how I was responsible, but every time that nightmare visited I knew with terrible certainty that I was the one responsible for Mathias’ death.

  I released a shuddering breath as I prayed I wouldn’t dream of his death again tonight. Last night had been bad enough when I woke with tears streaming down my face. The only comfort was that my throat hadn’t been raw from screaming in my sleep. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and then let it out slowly as I pressed my free hand against my stomach. It would go better if I didn’t think about what I didn’t want to dream about right before I went to sleep.

  Lying down, I pulled the blankets up high to shut out the damp chill in the air. It had changed from snow to sleet then proper rain by seven in the evening and hadn’t let up. The faint whiff of Mathias’ aftershave still clung to the blankets even though it had been days since his coat was in them. I inhaled the scent all the same as I wished . . . Well, things I shouldn’t be wishing when the man in question didn’t even want to be in line of sight anymore.

  I had almost drifted off when I heard the scrape of the door and then the muffled sound of it shutting. I sat up and scrambled to get out of bed. My ankle gave a twinge of warning when I tried to put my weight on it, but I didn’t care. I limped over to the bedroom door and yanked it open. My breath caught at the sight of Mathias’ long lean frame. He was taking off his flat cap, which was sopping wet just like his wool coat. I glanced at the space above his head. Still a 10. It was strange how comforting the sight of a number that had once sent me into a panic was now.

  When my gaze dropped back down to his face, I caught him giving me a look that might have held a glimmer of surprise beneath the coldness. I glanced at my watch. Almost midnight. He must have been returning when it was so late he thought I was asleep.

  I hesitated torn between asking him questions about where he had been or just giving him a helping hand as he shrugged out of his dripping coat. Giving myself a shake, I took a quick breath to steady my nerves and then busied myself with fixing him tea. Still I couldn’t help peeking at him as I steeped the leaves of earl grey. He looked . . . almost himself. Other than being all wet. Meeting his blue-green eyes, I felt a blush creeping up into my cheeks and I quickly turned my attention back to preparing the tea.

  When I brought him the mug, I wondered for the briefest moment whether he would snub my offering. Mathias’ blue-green eyes held no warmth, only a frosty watchfulness, as I approached. He also wasn’t wearing a shirt although he had at least resisted taking off his pants while I was in the room. That would have been a bit much to handle right now. As it was, I still struggled to keep from gaping at him like some silly schoolgirl who had never seen an attractive man shirtless.

  By some miracle, I wasn’t blushing fierily when I handed him the tea. I should have retreated then and there, instead I lingered looking up at him. Hardly considering my actions, I laid a hand on his forearm as I murmured, “I’m glad you came back. I was, well, I was worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.” The tone was perfectly even if touched by frost and he didn’t so much as offer a hint of a smile to me. “You should be using your crutches.”

  I offered a little smile. “I’m okay, really.” The muscles in his forearm tensed beneath my fingers, and I prayed I wasn’t blushing again as a painful awareness of him sang back to life. I still sounded a little breathless as I asked, “Are you . . . Are you certain you’re all right?”

  He raised the mug slightly, slipping his forearm out from beneath my touch, and stated with chilly politeness, “Yes. Thank you.”

  How he managed to pack that much of a ‘go away’ into the statement without saying the words was . . . both impressive and frustrating. I almost argued, almost pleaded with him to talk to me and to stay instead of disappearing. But . . .

  My gaze strayed once more to the 10. The sensible little voice in my head was screaming that provoking an already tense 10 was foolish no matter how kind he had been in the past. My boldness shriveled as the weight of confronting a 10 settled on me with crushing clarity. I realized Mathias was watching me and there was nothing but cold indifference in his eyes. Uncertain now of everything happening between us, I retreated to the relative safety of the bedroom.

  This coldness was . . . troubling. If I had any sense at all, I would take my chances with the hunters and try to make my way back to civilization. Maybe a Fae pony would get me to Wick. Ailsa would probably be willing to carry me, although I wasn’t certain if Artair would let us go off alone. Dealing with the stallion might be worth the hassle if it got me away from this place. Even as I contemplated the idea, my heart shrank from turning into someone who abandoned another, a friend who clearly needed help, and for what? My own sense of safety?

  I reached up to touch the sapphire pendant, my mind turning to my parents, and then I dropped my hand in disgust. No. No, I couldn’t do what they had done. What too many people in my life had done. I wasn’t going to do the same to Mathias. He was the only one who ever reached out to truly help me in my life. It would be wrong not to return the favor. I was in . . . debt to him so I needed to return the favor. It was the only thing to do in this case.

  A heavy sigh escaped me as I eyed the closed door. This was going to take time. That was one of the few things that was clear. A lot of time. I stretched out on the bed and pulled the blankets up once more. Mathias’ aftershave tickled my nose as did the memory of his bare arm beneath my fingers. I closed my eyes tightly and refused to acknowledge what it meant. The only good thing here was that waiting for Mathias to talk to me again would likely mean I would be back on my feet and less reliant on the crutches or even off them completely. As my ankle throbbed in protest of my earlier actions, I reminded myself that waiting for my tendon to heal wouldn’t last forever. Only another three weeks or so, and then it would be time to make a real decision about Mathias.

  * * *

  Mathias

  I paced the length of the main room of the cottage. I had intended only to keep my distance, weaken the draw toward her, but when I returned tonight . . . She was still awake, waiting for me perhaps. I had steeled myself for her inevitable reaction of scorn and eventually fear. But, there had only been concern. Enough that it had pained me to stay cold against her. But, I had no choice.

  I still didn’t have a choice. I stopped pacing and dropped down onto the bench, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. Placing my palms together, I bowed my head slightly to rest my mouth against my fingers as I studied the flickering flames. Lauren’s reaction had nearly undone me. The moment she spoke without referencing our quarrel or demanding answers I wasn’t prepared to give weakened me enough that I didn’t immediately abandon my quest for dry clothes. Then, she had not only brought me tea but she had voiced . . . concern instead of scorn. I felt her touch on my arm as though bitten by a burning ember, and I had been close to losing control over my instincts that were drawing me toward her ever since . . .

  Closing my eyes, I let out a slow breath through my nose. I had almost kissed her. I had wanted to pull her close and kiss her so she understood why I had been angry with her for almost dying. And for the poor reason of being concerned with my sorry hide. The memory of the Fuath’s hands on her throat flashed through my mind, and I bit back a groan as the ice in my veins surged in strength. If not the
draw, it was the cold fury eating through me. I shouldn’t have stayed when I saw her come into the main room. Yet, tonight I almost drug Lauren too closely into my life. Even now with my eyes closed, she was still there looking up at me with eyes of such dark brown they were ebony in color. Wide, liquid, and intoxicating. Her presence so easily detectable and warm despite my attempts at chasing her away. If I offered—

  “No!” I opened my eyes as the angry denial burst past my lips. I waited, but Lauren didn’t come back. A low groan escaped me as I bowed my head again. No, I couldn’t offer anything else. I needed to push Lauren away before I slipped and obeyed the instincts urging me to take her back to my true homeland. Instincts urging me to allow her to be more than just the woman I am trying to protect. No, that could never happen. I refused to do that to her.

  I rubbed my chin as I returned my attention to the fire. I would need to continue avoiding her presence if such a small encounter held such power over me. I stood up and then softly crossed the room to where I had stashed my go bag. My soaked sweater, socks, and boots were still drying in front of the fire, but the jeans I still wore were nearly dried from my pacing. I glanced at the closed bedroom door and then carried my go bag over to the fireplace. It probably wouldn’t have hurt anything to wait until my clothes and shoes were fully dried out, but the thought of waiting and risking another meeting with Lauren was, in a word, unbearable.

  If I didn’t gain more space and time apart from her intoxicating presence, I would fail entirely in my sole goal. I would fail at protecting her. It would be difficult to continue watching over her from a distance and to hide from her as though I were spying on her like she was just another intelligence target. But, it was necessary. Lauren was too vulnerable and innocent and compelling for me to stay in close proximity to her. She muddled my thoughts, and I could not afford the distraction. She could not afford the distraction.

  I hesitated only a moment longer before I quickly changed into dry jeans and a dry sweater before pulling a slicker out and donning it as well. I wrapped my wet clothing and coat in towels and stowed them in my go bag before heading back out into the rain. I merely needed to wait for Lauren’s ankle to heal to the point that she could walk without crutches before we parted ways. It would be for the best. I knew it would be for the best . . . for both of us. Lauren had enough trouble with Weard sending hunters after her for a still unknown reason. She needed to focus on healing and on getting far enough away that she would no longer be of interest to Weard. Yet, I couldn’t help the wry thought that this was going to be a long assignment.

  By the time I walked through the freezing rain to my current lodgings, I knew I needed a distraction. Or I would find myself back in Lauren’s presence hopelessly lost to her. Perhaps, I should consider faking Lauren’s death when we parted ways.

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  Lauren

  Mathias hadn’t come back around where I could actually see him for nearly three weeks, if I had my dates right. Keeping myself entertained without going crazy had resulted in a lot of naps and digging out my yarn and crochet hooks, which I bought impulsively at several different stops when we were still in the States. Mostly, because I was going stir crazy riding the train from California to Texas with nothing to do. If nothing else, I could make a lot of smaller projects with the yarn I currently had and one bigger project.

  I had also done my best to make the cottage a little homier by setting out more blankets by draping them over the chairs, and even putting my figurines in the center of the table. Sitting at the table now as I waited for the food to cook, I ran a fingertip over the three little figurines. The wood carving of a stylized loon made an oddly fitting companion to the jade deer and fox. I supposed part of the reason I kept the loon was because it had been the first trinket I bought for myself after going to work for Halliman’s. My fingers moved from the loon to the deer . . . swift, cautious, and smart enough to flee from danger. The fox . . . oh she was always clever, but also accustomed to slipping away from the hunting hounds.

  The smell of baking bread reminded me of my current task, and I limped over to the fireplace and pulled the pan off the raised cooking rack. The bread was a nice golden brown with a split at the top. Perfect. That only took ten days of constant practice to remember the correct way to bake in a fireplace. Thank goodness for the family of Brownies I fostered with at twelve . . . they had loved cooking and cooking without modern conveniences even more. The eleven months I spent with them was proving extremely useful.

  After depositing the bread on the table, I limped back over to the fireplace to check the chowder. It was done as well. Swinging the pot out so it no longer hung directly over the glowing embers, I hurried to finish setting the table. My stomach growled in anticipatory appreciation of the meal, but I paused before sitting down to eat. I had only set out tableware for myself.

  I hesitated a moment, feeling torn and a little ridiculous that I was even considering it, and then I limped over to the shelf with the extra tableware. I grabbed another setting and limped back to the table. A task that was much easier now since I wasn’t using the crutches. My ankle gave a little twinge, which seemed to be a reminder that I was not yet ready to abandon the crutches entirely. I finished setting the second place at the table and then fixed my bowl of chowder before settling in my chair. Mathias hadn’t been around in so long I wasn’t even sure why I bothered, but there was always a little hope.

  There was a boom in the distance, and I lowered my mug as I listened. It had been almost dry the last two weeks with some snow, but not nearly as much rain. There was another clap of thunder directly overhead and I jumped, nearly spilling my drink. Lightning filled the room as the main door swung open and Mathias stomped inside. He shut the door with a low curse and dropped the hood of his slicker. He gave me a look like he was going to run back out despite the sound of rain catching up to the thunder and lightning. I could almost see him considering it.

  “You could join me,” I said softly. “I just made it. And,” I lifted the mug, “I made your tea.”

  When he didn’t respond, I decided that perhaps showing no interest in him would be the best route. However, I was acutely aware of his presence in the room. I heard the sound of his steps and it took all of my will not to look back at him, to confirm he was actually coming closer. I raised the mug to my lips and drank the tea without really tasting it. Then, Mathias lowered himself into the chair opposite of me. His blue-green eyes were a pale blue due to the cream-colored wool sweater that clung to his lean frame adding emphasis to the existence of his muscles. I yanked my gaze away and prayed I wasn’t blushing.

  Mathias was quiet as he filled his bowl with chowder except for the nearly silent thanks he offered when I poured his tea. I kept my gaze fixed on my bowl, and when I reached blindly for the bread I had sliced my fingers brushed against his. I yanked my hand back and looked up to find him watching me. His mouth had firmed into a line and then he quietly asked, “No questions?”

  “No,” I whispered. I quickly picked up the slice of bread I had wanted and resolutely turned my attention back to my bowl, pretending the momentary contact hadn’t sent a fresh zing of awareness through me.

  “I was hunting.”

  My head came up at those quiet words. Mathias was watching me closely, an unreadable gleam in his eyes. My breath caught. “Hunting? Why?” I shook my head as my mind started racing and my heart beat faster. “You shouldn’t have gone out there after them. What if Weard figures out you’re hunting their men again? What if they set a trap for you?”

  Mathias’ brow furrowed and the coldness underlying his words vanished as he asked, “You’re worried about me? Still?”

  “Of course, I am. I, umm, I care about you, Mathias.” I looked down at my bowl and frowned. “I wish you wouldn’t endanger yourself by hunting Weard.”

  “I wasn’t hunting Weard.”

  I glanced up at that. “Then who or what have you been hunting?”
>
  “The Fuath.” Mathias’ eyes narrowed and hardened as his gaze dropped to my throat. The bruises were long gone but he still acted as though he could see them. “I’ve been hunting the rest of the pack. They came this way after the death of the first and that was unacceptable. So, I have removed the problem.”

  “Does this mean you’ll stick around here a little?” Not sure I wanted to even know his response, I occupied myself with eating more chowder.

  The silence was cringingly long when he finally responded, “If that is your preference.”

  I didn’t trust myself to speak without revealing too much so I only offered a nod. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, but it wasn’t quite as tense between us as it had been last time. Something for which I was immensely grateful. By the time we finished eating, I almost felt as close to normal as I could get while sharing a meal with a 10.

  When Mathias stood, however, the thought of him disappearing again struck me hard. I scrambled to my feet. “Mathias.” He stopped and looked at me, raising an eyebrow. My cheeks were heating up, but I did my best to ignore them as I racked my brain for a reason he should stay. “Would you, umm, would you like to stay for dessert? There’s brownies and it won’t take thirty minutes to bake them.”

  “Brownies?”

  I nodded, warming to the idea. “Yes, chocolate seems appropriate given the day, don’t you think?”

  “The day?”

  Now I really was blushing. I limped over to the shelf, pulled down a mixing bowl, and poured in the ingredients. They had shown up last week, and I had saved them for tonight. Why had I mentioned the day? Mathias was still waiting for an answer. I offered him a little smile. “Yes, today is February fourteenth. Valentine’s Day.” When he didn’t respond, I mixed faster. Only after I slid the baking pan onto the cooking grate, did I speak. “Even a Myrmidon must know of Valentine’s Day.”