The crackle of burning wood and the smell of smoke pulled my attention from her to the cottage. Memory began emerging from the icy call for justice and my hand dropped to my side. I had been coming back for . . . “Lauren.” The name slipped out in a whisper.
The sword slipped from my hand as I remembered . . . terror. Hunters standing around the cottage watching the flames and smoke, laughing. The surge of icy rage when I realized they had left Lauren in there. And then . . .
I shook my head, trying to focus my thoughts. My gaze caught on the crutches strewn on the frozen ground. The slight figure with a duffle bag, collapsed on her front. “Lauren,” I breathed. “Lauren?”
I ran the short distance to her and dropped to my knees beside her. I yanked the damp shawl off her head exposing her dark hair and her soot streaked face. Tugging my gloves off, I pressed my fingers against her throat. She had a heartbeat, but her breathing came in ragged and raspy gasps. No. “Lauren? Lauren, can you hear me?”
Looking around, I realized something else. I had cut down the hunters and the redcap, driven by the cold flowing through my veins. God forgive me, I had almost turned on Lauren. Closing my eyes, I hung my head even as I gathered Lauren into my arms. I had claimed the hunters’ lives without thought for mercy or any room for tempering the coldest justice. My control had truly slipped, which meant . . . Lauren . . .
I opened my eyes and gazed down at her still face. Taking her damp shawl, I used it to gently clean away the streaks left by soot, sweat, and water. Lauren didn’t stir, but I was grateful. It gave me more time to gather myself enough that I would be able to face her again. “I’m so sorry, Lauren.”
There was no other choice to be had then. I needed to get Lauren away from me. She wasn’t safe around me anymore.
I slipped her go bag off and gathered her into my arms. Carrying her further away from the burning cottage, I laid her down on a mossy section and covered her with my coat. Then, I went back to take care of the bodies. I could not bury them, but a pyre was an acceptable enough funeral. Only when they were taken care of did I gather Lauren’s go bag and crutches as well as my sword, cleaning its blade with a cloth I tossed into the fire.
Returning to where I had left Lauren, I was torn between concern and relief that she was still unconscious. In my cowardice, I did not want to face her yet. Not so soon after I had . . . succumbed to the very cold I promised her I would resist. Whistling three light notes, I crouched next to Lauren as I waited. Artair and the other Fae ponies paced toward us tossing their heads as their nostrils flared in response to the fires but not shying away. I quickly caught Fife and tied Lauren’s go bag and crutches to his pack. When Ailsa snuffled my sleeve, I patted her neck. “She can’t ride you this time. Tomorrow.”
Artair arched his neck as I slid the sword into the saddle sheath. At least, he didn’t sidle away when I picked Lauren’s limp form up. I positioned her on his back and then swung up behind her. The scent of smoke lingered in her clothes and hair, but I didn’t care. Holding her in my arms was almost enough to soothe my growing guilt.
Cradling Lauren against my chest, I pressed a kiss to her hair. “Forgive me, sweetheart.”
* * *
Chapter Twelve
Lauren
It was dark when I opened my eyes and then light swept over my face making me hiss as I squeezed my eyes shut. There was a touch against my cheek, and I flinched away. But, it wasn’t the taunting voice of one of the hunters that responded to this moment of weakness. Instead, an all too familiar British accent caressed my ears. “You’re all right, sweetheart. You’re okay.”
I opened my eyes again, not quite believing what I was hearing. “M-Mathias?”
The light no longer blinded me so I could make out Mathias leaning over me. He looked . . . distressed with worry lines carving his forehead and the corners of his mouth turning down. His hand was hovering close to my face. I forced myself to grab it, reassuring myself that this wasn’t a trick of the mind. I tried to talk only to dissolve into a coughing fit that racked my entire body.
Mathias slipped his hand away and then offered me a canteen. I grabbed it with both hands, gulping down tepid water that still soothed my parched throat. Only after slaking my thirst, did I notice the change in scenery. We were next to a craggy hill and to the left was mist. I could smell the bog. A snort pulled my attention from the mist covered bog, and I rose up on my elbows craning my neck to see that the Fae ponies were grazing in the shadow of the hill. I also realized I was lying on the ground covered by a single blanket.
“What happened?” I struggled to sit up. “Mathias, what happened?”
“You weren’t safe there anymore,” came the quiet answer. A hand rested against my back helping me to sit up.
When I looked at him again, memory of an icy gaze and bloodied sword struck me. I shook my head slightly. “She asked you for mercy.”
Mathias dropped his gaze as he withdrew his hand. “Why do you think Myrmidons were so feared and hated that we brought down a purge on our heads? There is no mercy when the Biting Ice controls you. Mercy is a weakness and the cold seeks only justice, an end to a wrong. It is too late for apologies, I know, but I am sorry you had to witness it.”
Part of me wanted to comfort him, but I didn’t even know what to say about this. Interacting with Mathias knowing what he had done, what he could do . . . It was scary. I glanced up at his number. A steady 10, blazing in the night, even after all that had happened the number didn’t even flicker lower. The coldness threatening to turn Mathias into a monster, perhaps?
I let out a slow breath. “What do we do now?”
“I will get you to Europe. I know of someone who can protect you on the rest of your journey until Weard’s management gives up the hunt for you.”
I stared at him. “You want to split up?” I hesitated, biting back the protest driven by my feelings, and instead quietly asked, “Will that be safer?”
Mathias looked away from me, staring out into the mist. “It is the only way.”
“Why?”
“Because you are not safe with me.”
I started to argue, then I caught a whiff of stale smoke. I grimaced as I looked down at my grimy clothes. How lovely. “I can’t go anywhere around people smelling like this.” I looked around for my go bag. “Where’s my bag?”
“Airing out.”
A groan escaped me. “Smoke?”
“You were in a burning building, Lauren,” came the terse statement. When I looked up at him, he was facing away from me and his hands were curled into fists at his sides. “I thought you had been killed. It was why I lost control.”
“I don’t think they expected me to wake up in time to even try to escape,” I said softly. “Mathias, despite everything, I am very glad you came back because I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”
My voice cracked, and I stopped talking as I blinked back emotion. The memory of the fire and the near death escape sent tremors through me. I bowed my head as I clamped a hand over my mouth. Arms wrapped around me, pulling me against a solid chest. I turned my face into his sweater as my shoulders shook with dry sobs. Mathias didn’t say a word, just held me close. I felt his fingers combing through my hair and closed my eyes. In that moment, I forgot what had happened with the hunters and focused on the fact that he made me feel safe again.
Eventually, I pulled back feeling a twinge of disappointment when he didn’t try to hold onto me. But I shoved the notion aside. Now was not the time to be sidetracked by my attraction to him. I took a shaky breath and cleared my throat. “I really need clean clothes.”
“We’re on the edge of the Flow Country. You don’t want to bathe in a peat bog.”
“I would settle for clothes that don’t stink,” I muttered.
A duffle bag landed on the ground next to me and I blinked at it. Mathias crouched down and pulled out a sweater. Then, he frowned as he continued digging around in the bag. “I don’t have any trousers that wi
ll fit you. And, I didn’t pack for summer.”
“You don’t have to . . .” I trailed off as Mathias silently handed me the sweater. “Thank you.”
Mathias stood up. He gestured to his bag. “There’s wipes and dry wash in there. Use them if you want. I’m going to make sure we haven’t picked up any followers. I will be gone an hour.”
“Thank you, Mathias,” I stated quietly. He didn’t need to leave, but I appreciated the gesture. Although I was a little concerned that perhaps he was making the gesture more out of his desire to avoid being around me than anything else. However, he was already striding away from me before I could come up with a good reason for him to stay close . . . that wouldn’t sound like I was trying to tempt him.
I didn’t waste any time in limping over to the slight shelter near the Fae ponies, where my own bag had been set out. Not wanting to wear my filthy clothes again, I scrounged around in my bag for underthings and jeans. Fortunately, I had a few things in the bottom of the bag that didn’t smell of smoke. At least, not enough to be readily detectable. Cleaning off the grime with wipes and dry wash didn’t have nearly the same amount of satisfaction and comfort as a hot shower, but it was better than nothing.
Slipping on my fresh clothes with Mathias’ sweater, I felt more myself. The sweater smelled like Mathias and hung almost to my knees, but it wasn’t as baggy as the men’s sweaters I usually wore. If it hadn’t been so cold out on the moor, I might have been able to wear it as a dress. The only thing left was to put on my new wrap. I hobbled over to a mossy stone and sat down. I had just finished the wrap and slipped the brace back on when Mathias’ long lean frame appeared out of the darkness.
As he came closer, his steps falter for a moment. I looked up to find him staring at me with an intensity that sent awareness through me. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking. Actually, I wanted us to stop being on the run and to be able to have a normal conversation about . . . us. Mathias’ gaze swept over me and I could feel my cheeks warming, then he spoke. “Do you think you can ride on Ailsa? Or do I need to carry you?”
“We’re leaving now?”
Mathias offered a curt nod. “We don’t have much time. We need to cross the Flow Country now. It’s part of the reason we came this way instead of backtracking. If we enter here, we’ll reach Forsinard in a day. It will be faster than going back to Altnabreac.”
I nodded. Raising my hand, I let Mathias pull me to my feet. He stuck close as I limped over to Ailsa who seemed pleased to see me again as she nuzzled my shoulder. Or she just liked the smell of Mathias’ sweater too.
Within fifteen minutes, we were heading down into the mist covered bog. The Fae ponies’ easy pace quickened as they followed a fae path. It seemed they were eager to put this venture behind them too. I kept my eyes fixed on Mathias. I would have at least another day or two to try to convince him not to part ways in Europe.
* * *
Mathias
Cutting across to Forsinard saved us enough time that I was able to give Lauren the opportunity for a proper shower while I loaded our bags into the boot of a car I had arranged for our use. The Fae ponies were back in the hands of their owner’s son, a Seelie I paid extra to get us some fresh food. When Lauren came out of the guest house her dark hair was still wet, but I hardly noticed as I realized she was wearing my sweater again. It was long enough that it looked like a dress as it molded to her slender frame clinging in all the right places to show off her curves.
Raising my gaze, I was caught by the expression on her face. Exhaustion and . . . concern as she hurried toward me. “I don’t think we should stay.”
I nodded. Ushering her to the car, I didn’t say a word until we were on the narrow road leading away from the farm and from Forsinard. I glanced at Lauren. “What happened?”
Her voice sounded odd as she answered, “I just had a feeling.”
“His number changed.”
“Yes.”
When she glanced at me with such wariness in her eyes, I clenched the steering wheel tighter. “By how much?”
“He jumped from a five to a seven when I saw him get on the phone . . . after he gave you the food.”
“It seems the son is not as reliable as the parents,” I muttered. I stopped the car and pulled the sack of food out of the back seat. A quick check revealed the sandwiches I had asked for and nothing else. It was still too much risk to hope the traitor hadn’t tampered with the food. I opened the door and threw the bag over the low stone wall marking the boundary of the bog.
“What are you going to do?”
I started driving again. “Don’t worry. I told him we were going to Thurso. We don’t need to drive through it to get to Wick.”
Lauren didn’t reply, and I glanced over at her. She was biting her bottom lip like she wanted to ask something and was afraid to do so. “What is it?” She flinched and turned wide eyes on me. My grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What are you afraid of, Lauren? Me?”
“I am not afraid of you,” she countered softly. “But, I am a little worried about your reactions right now.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell me about his number changing, indicating he was a threat? You thought I would go kill him,” I stated coldly.
Lauren didn’t flinch this time and her dark eyes pierced me as she murmured, “You think you wouldn’t have done that?”
I opened my mouth to deny it. I wanted to deny it. But, the cold settling in my veins and still edging my vision was already pushing for me to go back and eliminate the threat. I turned my attention back to the road. “Next time you need to tell me. This time he was a snitch. Next time could be an attack.”
“If it was an attack, we should have done the same as we are now. Leave.”
“You are fond of running.” The cool words slipped out before I considered how they would sound. Glancing at her, I quickly murmured, “Sorry. That came out . . . wrong.”
“I know.”
An uneasy silence fell between us. I knew I should let it be, use it to encourage the distance between us, but the draw toward Lauren was too strong. It was enough knowing I would be forcing myself to walk away from her. Allowing the silence to continue was too much.
After another twenty minutes of wrestling with myself, I finally broke the silence. “When we get to Wick, there will be a charter plane waiting to take us to Aberdeen. I’ll get you a ticket to the continent. Germany, Italy, maybe Spain. France is too close to be a truly good option. At least for right now.”
“Mathias, what are you talking about?”
I kept my eyes on the road as I quietly replied, “You said I stopped sharing the plan with you. I’m sharing now. In case we get separated before you can get on your flight. I’ve made arrangements for you to get off this bloody island before you get caught between me and Weard’s hunters again. I won’t have you killed because Weard is trying to break me. I won’t have you end up the same way as Amber.”
Slender fingers slid over my whitened knuckles rubbing gently. “Amber was a victim. I’m a little more prepared. I know what you are and to avoid the people hunting for us. Weard doesn’t know what you are, right?”
“Unless he told them, no.”
“He?”
I ignored the question. That information was something I didn’t want to repeat. “It doesn’t matter now. Weard will find out what I am because I’m going to ensure they know.”
Lauren’s gentle massage stopped, and I could feel her staring at me. “What? Mathias, no.”
“It is the only way,” I countered. “It is the only way to ensure Weard stops sending so many hunters after you. You may be a Spotter, but Weard won’t ignore me when I reveal I’m a Myrmidon.”
“Mathias, no. That’s not a plan, it’s a suicide mission!” Lauren’s hand slipped down to my wrist and she gripped it, making me look at her. Her eyes were wide and filled with . . . fear. “Don’t do this, Mathias. We can find another solution.”
I shook my head. Slipping m
y wrist out from under her grip, I stated simply, “There won’t be any time to find another. We’ll leave Wick as soon as we reach the airport, which won’t take more than twenty minutes. By midnight we’ll be in Aberdeen. I’ll try to get you a ticket for an early flight.”
“You keep talking like you aren’t going to fly with me.”
The quiet words shook my resolve not to touch her. I reached over and grasped her hand, but kept my eyes on the road. If I looked into her eyes now, I would likely agree to whatever she wanted and that was not what was best for her. “You will have a new . . . guide.”
“Yes, on the continent. I don’t want to split up in Aberdeen.”
“Lauren, this is for the best. I will make my way back to Chicago. The appearance of a Myrmidon in the headquarters of Weard will bring every available hunter flooding back. Maybe I’ll find out who is truly behind this hunt for your remaining people. Either way, I’ll make sure they are far more concerned with me than devoting resources to chasing a little Spotter like you.”
“Mathias, I don’t want to do it that way. I want us to come up with a different plan. I want . . . I want to stay with you.”
I let go of her hand, shaking my head, as I murmured, “No. No, it has to be this way. You aren’t safe with me, Lauren.”
“Is there no way to stop it? This Biting Ice, the cold, how do we stop it?”
“Distance,” I ground out. I knew it was already too late for that, but as long as she didn’t know I would be able to get her away before she became too entangled in my world. I wouldn’t put a death mark on her just to save myself. I drove faster needing to get to the airport faster. “It is the only way.”
* * *
Chapter Thirteen
Mathias
Flight by Numbers Page 14