Mind Over Matter

by Shea Balik

  Pissed at the world, he threw the empty backpack at Fritjof. When the man was able to snatch it out of the air with his quick reflexes, that only served to enrage Wylie even more. “You did this, you son of a bitch. How dare you come here and endanger our lives?”

  Even though Wylie had stormed right up to him, so they were toe to toe, Fritjof looked at him like he was nothing more than a bug pestering him. “Look princess, I didn’t do anything. The Fae found you long before I did. It’s just taking them longer to open the Veil. So get your panties out of a twist, get outside, do the ritual, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

  Wylie wasn’t sure what upset him more. The fact that Fritjof called him princess like it was a bad thing, or how he sounded bored and completely unimpressed with Wylie standing up to him. He should have known anyone that built would have little tolerance for someone like Wylie.

  “I’d rather you go back to hell now and leave us be. We don’t need you fucking up our lives.” The Fae had done enough of that to last Wylie a lifetime.

  “Wylie,” his mama admonished. “That was uncalled for.” Then she turned to Fritjof. “As for you, young man, you are a guest in our home, so I won’t call you out for ungentlemanly attitude, but I’m also not going to allow it to continue. Now, who are you and how do you know about the Fae, the Veil, or the ritual?”

  Wylie had to bite his tongue to stop from laughing at the stunned expression on Fritjof’s face from getting scolded by mama. Served him right.

  “As much as I’d love to take the time to explain it, we’ve wasted enough time. That Veil is going to open whether you like it or not, whether you believe the Fae can find you or not, and even if you try to run, once they come through, their only mission will be to find you.” Fritjof’s pretty golden eyes landed squarely on Tess, as if to let them know it was her the Fae would be hunting down.

  Yet, even as he silently indicated that would be their goal, he added, “Don’t misunderstand me.” This time he looked at each of them in turn. “The Fae have begun an all-out war against the druids. They have been attacking them for quite some time.”

  That all too knowing gaze returned to Tess. “So, regardless of your particular situation, I am here today, telling you to perform this ritual.” Then Fritjof turned and stared right at Wylie. “Because like it or not, you are part of a prophecy. As much as they may have reasons to come after your family, it is you who poses the biggest threat to them at the moment. For if you and your friends live, that Veil will be permanently sealed, making it impossible for the Fae to ever have the ability to return to the human world again.”

  Wylie was sure his jaw was on the floor. If only he had the ability to look away from those golden eyes to check, for he would have found it hilarious to resemble a cartoon character. Yeah, maybe not so much, considering this nut job just told him it was his destiny or some such shit to save the human world from the Fae.

  That didn’t mean, later, he wouldn’t have laughed at the picture of his jaw unhinged and touching the floor. “Are you out of your damned mind?” he finally managed to say. “Did you just get released from a mental institution or something? Should I call a doctor, not that there is one anywhere close by, but still, I’m sure if I explain the situation, they’d send a padded wagon with a straight-jacket for you.”

  An unholy sound that was similar to a roar floated on the air. If Wylie had to guess it was several miles from where they were, which was good, because it would give him time to stop shaking at the eerie, and absolutely mind-numbingly terrifying, sound it had created.

  “What the fuck was that?” he whispered, inching closer to the crazy guy with all the muscles and the armory strapped to his body. He wasn’t sure exactly how many weapons the guy had on him, but Wylie had made out three guns, two swords – which, who the hell carried those anymore? Yet, on Fritjof, they looked as if they belonged – and ten knives.

  Wylie was fairly sure he hadn’t seen everything the guy was carrying, but he was pretty sure he had accounted for most of them. Out there, in no man’s land, he’d learned to figure out what kinds of weapons people were carrying just in case they decided to pick a fight. Not a skill he’d ever imagined having when he was younger.

  “That would be the Unseelie’s pets,” Fritjof said with a little too much, ‘I told you so,’ in his voice. “Now do you believe me?”

  No pet he’d ever known had sounded like the demons of hell were coming for them. Pets were furry, cuddly things, right? “Depends on what kind of pet.”

  There was a flash of annoyance across Fritjof’s face that clearly indicated he was ready to throw his hands up and let Wylie find out for himself, while the big man stood back and laughed. But as much as Fritjof might have wanted to do exactly that, he answered the question instead.

  “They are creatures unlike anything they have in this world. A combination of all the worst predators on our side, mixed into beasts that will shre…” Fritjof glanced at Tess, who was currently clinging to mama as her eyes grew wide as saucers. “Surely not be nice to you,” Fritjof finished instead.

  It was too much to wrap his brain around. “But how could they have found us?” Wylie was still hoping this was all some horrible joke, but the god-awful noises were getting closer and closer, telling him this whole thing was very real.

  “Look,” Fritjof barked out, obviously unwilling to be patient any longer. “Now is the time for performing the ritual, not questions. They will be here any minute and as good as I am after fighting these things for over a thousand years, not even I am going to be able to hold them back if there are as many as I think there will be.”

  A thousand years?

  Was he joking?

  “Not to mention, once the Veil opens enough to let the Fae through instead of just their pets, there will be no stopping them.” Fritjof pointed to the door with a steely expression that let them all know he wasn’t about to back down from his demand. “Now, get your asses out there and do that damn ritual.”

  When Wylie opened his mouth to tell Fritjof what he could do with his damn orders, his father clamped a hand over Wylie’s mouth. “He’s right,” his papa said. “We have to do this if we are going to keep Tess safe.”

  His mama was nodding even as she strode toward the door. Tess held her tightly, those violet eyes pleading with Wylie. He wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted him to take her away from this craziness or join them. Not that it mattered, for once they all stepped outside, the crazy would come to them.

  In spades.

  “Please, tell me I ate some sort of magic mushroom and am having seriously fucked up hallucinations,” Wylie begged even as he followed his parents to a bale of hay.

  “No princess, they are very much real,” Fritjof said, clearly laughing at him. “Would you like me to introduce you to the Unseelie pets? I’m sure they’d be thrilled to meet you. Just watch their claws and fangs because they’ll rip you apart before shaking your hand.”

  Smug bastard.

  “Go to hell,” he told the jerk.

  “Too late for that one. Thanks to you druids, I’ve been living in it since I was fourteen.” There was a hardness in Fritjof’s tone and his jaw had gone rigid, making Wylie wonder what the man had been through.

  But before he could ask, his father lit a match and tossed it onto the bale of hay.

  Wait. Hay? “What? Are we praying to some hay God I didn’t know about?”

  His own mother rolled her eyes at him. “I swear Wylie, sometimes I wonder about you. It’s the easiest way to create a bonfire.”

  He tried not to take exception to the ‘duh’ in her tone. His parents had never gotten him. Even after everything with Mairi, they still felt he was the odd one.

  “Ready?” his papa grumbled as he took Tess from mama and placed her between them. “Just do what we do, my sweet girl,” he told her.

  Three… pets – Wylie shook his head in wonder that anyone could consider those things pets, because they were hideous – broke throug
h the fence surrounding the main yard. Wylie nearly shouted to his family to run, but before he could even get his mouth open, Fritjof had sprung into action.

  It was like watching a live action film or something. Each movement was executed with precision, yet was so damn graceful, Wylie found himself mesmerized. Well, until his mama hit him on the back of the head, forcing him to remember what it was they were still doing there in the first place.

  Turning back to the makeshift bonfire, he joined in with his parents and niece. It had been six years since the last time he’d done one of these, but it was like riding a bike, as his feet automatically performed the steps while he recited the ritual that, according to Fritjof, would stop something even worse from coming through that Veil.

  What could be worse than a gorilla-looking, slime coated creature with six inch fangs and hooves that seemed able to stomp Wylie into the ground without even trying? Wylie wasn’t sure he even wanted to know what things Fritjof feared, when he didn’t even blink an eye as he fought off the horrifying beasts to keep them safe.

  With that in mind, he put everything he had into performing the ritual that just might save their lives.

  CHAPTER 3

  Sweat coated Fritjof’s body in this Gods’ forsaken jungle as he fought pet after pet in an attempt to keep them away from the druids as they performed their stupid ritual. Who would have thought that a place known for its lush vegetation and exotic animals would be like walking through a damn sauna?

  Sure, as a Viking, he’d grown up in a much colder climate. When they’d moved to the mountains of Colorado, Fritjof had been relieved, since there had been many places they’d been sent to protect druids that had been hotter than hell with no chance of even a breeze to cool him off.

  When Fen had told him he’d be going to the Amazon, Fritjof had to admit a part of him had been intrigued. It was one part of the world he’d never seen. Now that he was there, he wished that was still the case.

  His clothes, which were made to breath so he could fight for hours if need be, stuck to his skin, hindering his movements in the most inconvenient way. Doing his best to ignore it as a stream of pets started to descend upon the makeshift ritual site, Fritjof continued to force the horde of creatures back, all the while silently urging the family to hurry the hell up.

  The sooner the Veil closed, stemming the tide of pets from crossing, the sooner he could kill any stragglers and get the hell out of there before he melted or died of heat stroke.

  Fritjof fought as he always did, with a precision and skill he’d honed over the past twelve hundred years. He and his friends trained for this, day in and day out, when they weren’t fighting to save the lives of the druids.

  Which, to him, was a waste of damn time. Admittedly, he really didn’t want the world to be run by the Fae, especially those scary looking ones they’d recently seen through the Veil. But he still wasn’t sure why it was his job to save the druids from their own stupidity.

  How hard was it to do a ritual, for Odin’s sake? There were just a few steps to remember and some chant that had been translated into just about every language in the world. Piece of cake. The only other requirement was to be prepared for what might come through that Veil, which, until recently, had only been the Unseelie’s pets.

  It meant fighting, or at least learning how to defend their home, yet the druids didn’t seem capable of figuring that part out. That left Fritjof and his friends to do it for them, which would have been easier, if they would just trust Fritjof and the others. But noooo. They had to act like just because they were Vikings, they were going to go raiding again.

  Did no one seem to understand they’d only been fourteen at the time? It sure as hell hadn’t been their idea, nor were they prepared for what they’d find on the shores of that Druid village.

  He heard the final line of the ritual and heaved a sigh of relief even as he continued to fight the six pets that were doing everything in their power to get past him. At least it was only pets now. Or, he hoped that was the case. For if there had been any Fae that had managed to cross, they’d most likely be dead now.

  He’d never had a chance to see it himself, but the others assured him the Fae died if they were stuck on this side of the Veil when it closed. It was hard to take on faith, especially when just after the spring solstice they’d had to fight two of the Unseelie’s guards.

  There was no doubt they could have come through a Veil they’d opened, which, since no one had bothered to close it, could mean there had been others in the human world until Beltane, when the ritual had been performed again. The thing was, considering the pets that also came through, he would have thought there would have been reports of those things roaming the towns of Colorado.

  All that meant Fritjof needed to be cautious when assuming there were only pets out there trying to kill the druids he was protecting. Odin help him if they discovered Tess, for he was fairly sure the Unseelie and Seelie both would come after them with a vengeance.

  The last pet, a snake head complete with four inch fangs, combined with the body of bull, except it was covered with feathers instead of fur, came charging at him. Winded, but not to the point of exhaustion, Fritjof stepped aside at the last moment, swinging his sword.

  With a thump the head and body landed on the ground, separated. He’d expected some kind of snarky comment from Wylie and when he didn’t get one, his stomach dropped. Before he even whirled around to the burned up hay bale, he already knew what he’d see.

  Nothing.

  They had fled.

  He raced back to the house, but as he thought, no one was there, and that backpack Wylie had thrown at him earlier was gone. Probably filled with whatever they could grab as they trudged out of the jungle.

  “Figures,” Fritjof mumbled. Why druids felt the need to run from the person who saved them, made no damn sense, yet they always did.

  Then again, he wasn’t sure he could exactly blame Wylie or his parents for doing so. That little girl would only bring them trouble. Fritjof would have taken her and run too, if she’d belonged to him.

  Hiding her was their only option. Too bad it was also impossible. Once the Fae found out she existed, they would never stop hunting her. The Unseelie would most likely want to destroy her. What he wasn’t sure of, was what the Seelie would do.

  Not that it mattered. Fritjof needed to find them before the Fae managed to punch a hole through the Veil. At Beltane, it had taken them an entire day to find a way. If he was lucky, Fritjof would have at least that long, possibly more if he was fortunate enough the Fae hadn’t seen Tess and wouldn’t be quite so determined to find her.

  Then again, when had his luck ever been that good?

  With that thought in mind, he headed out. The sooner he caught up with them, the sooner he could get them back to Colorado, hand them off to his friends and wash his hands of them.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Fritjof breathed out softly as he watched the scene before him play out like one of those slapstick comedies.

  In his neon pink shirt, Wylie carefully took a leafy branch and wiped his and his family’s footprints from the path where they’d veered off into a copse of trees that might have had a chance to hide them if it weren’t for Wylie’s bright shirt, as well as the equally bright yellow dress Tess was wearing.

  Maybe if there had been some sort of sun that filtered through the ridiculous tall trees that surrounded this part of the Amazon, the yellow might not have been as obvious, but in the dimness under the large canopy, she stuck out like a sore thumb.

  Then there was the fact that Wylie thought erasing their footprints would do a damn thing to stop anyone from finding them. Twenty feet from where they’d gone off the path, their footprints just stopped. If anyone were tracking them that way, it wouldn’t be a challenge to figure out they were nearby.

  But in case someone was blind and unable to see their footsteps or their glaring colors, there was always the slap of Wylie’s hand on his body every f
ew seconds as he grumbled loud enough for even Fritjof to hear who was as at least fifty feet from their position. Apparently, even after years in the Amazon, bugs still found Wylie’s blood too tasty to resist.

  Then again, one wouldn’t really need to listen that closely, for twice while they hid, Wylie let out a shriek as some critter got too close to him. Fritjof was too far away to see what it could be and Wylie never said, but the way Wylie screamed, Fritjof at first had feared it was something dangerous.

  Only the fact that his parents appeared unfazed by whatever scared Wylie, kept Fritjof where he was, watching. He’d considered walking up to them, but since they’d already ditched him once, he decided keeping an eye on them from afar was a much better option.

  Right. Keep telling yourself that.

  Fritjof scowled at that stupid inner voice that wouldn’t shut the hell up. What did it matter if he kept his distance, so long as he was able to protect them?

  Lying to yourself only makes you a coward.

  Under normal circumstances Fritjof might actually agree, but nothing about Wylie would constitute as normal. Even his friends had called him a drama queen, so it wasn’t just Fritjof who thought him odd.

  When you decide to lie, you really go for it.

  No way was Fritjof going to just sit there and listen to his stupid inner voice criticize everything he thought. No matter how right it might be. But there was only one way he was going to get it to keep quiet.

  Using far more stealth than was strictly necessary, since Wylie’s family wasn’t exactly prepared to stop him, Fritjof made his way to the copse of trees they were using to ‘hide,’ while they rested. The only good thing about the direction they’d been fleeing, was that it was toward the river where he’d left his boat, assuming it was still there.

  Traveling by water would be a lot faster than walking out of the Amazon, especially as they were about as deep in the jungle as they could be. If he hadn’t been facing the Unseelie’s pets since he was fourteen years old, Fritjof might have been scared of some of the animals he’d encountered so far.