Unbound (Kayla Blackstone)

by Adriane Ceallaigh

  The cat disturbed his work more often than not these days; it seemed for the last few months it’d been a constant nuisance. Gannon scratched the cat under its chin while he thought.

  Gannon, will you pay attention?

  Gannon shook his head and looked around. The cat glared at him, twitching his tail back and forth. When he had Gannon’s attention, he jumped down and headed for the gate.

  Here.

  Gannon stared at the cat. No, it couldn’t be, he thought as he walked across the room and stopped near the cat. Opening the portal enough to see through, he took in the scene before him. At the foot of his gate lay a woman, her clothes covered in blood. She didn’t appear to be breathing. He didn’t stop to think. Before he knew what had happened, he crouched beside her, gathering her hand in his. The faint fluttering of her pulse beneath his fingers wasn’t a good sign.

  A large dog lay near her; he supposed it could have given her the wounds, but that didn’t sit right with him. He went to the end of his alcove, looking up and down the alley. In the distance, he could see a body, but couldn’t make out any details. He loped down the alley and, kneeling near the naked body, he turned it over, his heart sinking.

  “MoonSkin.” He looked the body over, noting the deep cuts that laced its skin. He scanned the area and his gaze landed on a sword. Picking it up, he raced back. He didn’t know if he could save her from the MoonSkins bite.

  He tossed her blade through the archway, wincing as it clanged against his table. He regretted having to treat her weapon in such a way, but he couldn’t carry both her and her sword. Kneeling next to her, he scooped her up into his arms.

  “My god,” he whispered to the unconscious woman. He could only hope she stayed asleep. Going into his workroom, he laid her down on his cot, then gathered the few things he didn’t have in his cottage that he would need to treat her.

  His focused fused on the girl. He didn’t pause as he dug through his supplies. A sharp stab of pain in his leg stopped him. The cat withdrew his claws once he had his attention. He slammed his mortar back onto the table.

  “What is it?” He turned to the cat.

  The cat yowled and ran back to the portal.

  “It’s just a dog. The girl needs immediate attention.”

  The cat stared him down.

  “Oh alright, but if she dies, it’s on your head.” He glared at the feline and went back through the gate to pick up the dog.

  “You’re in a right sorry mess, aren’t you, boy?” Gannon set the injured dog down inside the gateway before returning to the girl. He would have to wait.

  Gannon noted in passing that the cat ran over and bumped heads with the dog before returning to the girl’s side. He lay with his head next to hers, purring while Gannon worked.

  He looked at the cat and dog a moment. A niggling thought touched his mind, then disappeared. Shaking his head, he knew it would come to him.

  Standing, he gathered the last of his things. He’d done what he could to stabilize her, and taking care of them would be easier in his cottage. He shifted the T’ween; it barely took a thought anymore to shift the dimension.

  With just a picture in his mind of what he wanted, in an instant, he went from his workroom to his cottage. A word started the fire and then he set a kettle on to heat.

  After clearing his table, he went to the hearth, got the kettle and set it on the table. He took out a bowl along with his mortar and pestle. Shuffling through the narrow shelf next to the table, he found the herbs he wanted to burn the poison from the dog’s blood and send him into a restful slumber.

  As he worked, he murmured a soft chant under his breath. After putting the ingredients into separate bowls, he poured hot water over the comfrey so that it just covered the leaves, and left it there to steep. He added chamomile to the wolfs bane in the mortar, working it to a fine powder.

  He poured the mixture into another bowl, covered it with water, stirred, added more water and let it cool. A measure of ground white willow bark went into both bowls.

  After the tea steeped for a few minutes, he strained the cooling liquid into another bowl, placing it to the side. He rinsed the strainer before straining the comfrey. The thick gel oozed through, the leaves remaining behind.

  Lining up a syringe, bandages and the concoction on the table, he filled the syringe with the wolfs bane mixture and knelt next to the dog.

  “Hey, old boy, I need to give you something to ease the pain and leach the poison from your blood. I’ve got to clean and bandage that gash you’ve got on your side.” He talked to the dog, more to calm the animal’s nerves than because he thought the dog could understand.

  The dog looked at him with big, solemn eyes and nodded.

  “Alright. Here goes.” He squeezed the syringe into the dog’s mouth. He sat back on his heels, petting the animal, as he waited for the medicine to take effect. The dog’s eyes began to droop and he laid his head in Gannon’s lap.

  Satisfied the dog wouldn’t feel what he was doing; Gannon picked him up and laid him on the table. He went to get the kettle and some rags to clean out the wounds. Taking a closer look while he cleaned the slashes, he didn’t like what he saw. The wounds gaped. Gannon pushed them back together and realized he would have to stitch them.

  After sterilizing the sewing tools and his hands, Gannon stood next to the dog. He picked up the bowl with the comfrey gel; scraping it out with his fingers, he smeared it into the wounds. Then he reached for his needle, threading it with horsehair. Gannon gritted his teeth, pushing the needle into the dog’s hide as he watched for any sign of pain.

  The dog whimpered a little, but otherwise lay still. Satisfied he was truly out; Gannon stitched up the rest of the gashes, then put more comfrey on the wounds. He wrapped the bandages tightly around the dog, feeling along his body for more wounds and smearing ointment into any he found. When he finished, he set aside his implements, and laid the dog next to his mistress. He covered them both with a quilt.

  Once he’d put everything back in its proper place, Gannon put a log on the fire, banking it, and settled into his chair for a long night. He watched as the girl’s pillow indented and heard the soft purr of a contented cat.

  Shocked, he realized he was dealing with a Guardian. Or maybe two, he thought, looking at the dog. Without realizing it, he soon drifted off…

  7

  Kayla woke as a ray of morning sunlight touched her cheek. Bringing her hand out from the depths of bedding, she let the light play across her fingers.

  She began to notice other things; the soft blanket that covered her wasn’t a blanket at all, but a beautiful quilt in a pattern she’d never seen before. Her circle of awareness expanded to include the room around the bed. Roo lay beside her, his chest rising and falling as he breathed. She still felt Nyx’s gentle warmth against her skin. Maybe he’d decided to stay awhile today.

  Then she saw a chair next to the bed, with a large man slouched in slumber. He needed a shave; faint black hairs shadowed his face. A soft curl fell across his brow, touching his nose. A nice nose, she mused, and a soft full mouth. Handsome, she supposed. He had strong, male hands and a large frame. Wondering what his eyes looked like, she raised hers back up his body. Stopping on his lips, she gasped a little, realizing that startling blue eyes were looking back at her. She flushed, looking away. She started to move, but every portion of her body screamed in pain. Clenching her teeth, she tried not to show it.

  “Don’t move. I’ll make you something for the pain.”

  She watched him push a kettle over the dying coals. Grabbing a log, he set it on the fire, stirring up the embers. With that done, he went on to rummage around in a small cupboard and dumped something into a cup.

  He rubbed his face and pushed his hand through his hair. He looked tired. She closed her eyes, wondering just where she was. When she felt coolness on her head, she opened her eyes and looked at him.

  “You need to drink this. It’s probably going to taste like crap. I’ll
help you sit up.” He lifted her into a half sitting position.

  She cried out.

  “I know it hurts. This will help.” He brought the cup to her lips. She grimaced at the bitter taste.

  “What is this?” Her voice cracked.

  “Herbs.”

  She glared at him until he relented.

  “Some willow, to ease the pain, and break the fever, chamomile to calm your mind and help with healing. There’s some clover to strengthen your blood and honey to sweeten it. Come now, finish the rest. You’ll feel a little better.”

  When she sipped the last of the tea, he laid her back against the pillows. The quilt slipped and, for the first time, she realized she didn’t have clothes on. Mortified, the warm glowing feelings towards him evaporated.

  “You were mauled; I needed to tend your wounds. I’m sorry for cutting off your shirt.”

  She turned away from him. A single tear fell. Her fingers traveled down her stomach, touching a bandage he’d wrapped her in, and she had her pants on, so she felt better to some extent.

  “No. I’m sorry. You’re being so kind. It’s nothing to get riled over really. What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Gannon. What’s yours?”

  She thought about it a moment, wondering what to tell him, and settled on the truth. “Kayla.”

  “Kayla, I need to change the dressings and clean your wounds. Is that all right?”

  “Sure, do whatever you need to do.”

  “Okay.” he pushed aside the quilt. “I’m going to help you sit up again.”

  She gasped at the stab of pain before it settled. It hurt less than before; maybe he knew what he was doing, she thought.

  Gannon began to unwind the bandages from her ribs and midriff. She stared in sick horror when she saw her wound. She had several deep gouges held closed with neat, even stitches. They were as good as any doctor could do.

  The wounds, red and welted, looked like they would heal — if she wasn’t infected. He cleaned around the wounds, then put cooling ointment on them before he started to rebandage her.

  “I don’t think you’ve broken any ribs, but you have some nasty bruising. Sometimes that can feel worse.”

  She nodded, feeling sleepy as he finished. He helped her lay back and covered her with the quilt. Then he moved on to her arm, treating it with the same gentle efficiency.

  “I’ve some things I need to do outside. Will you be all right for a little while?” he asked as he cleaned up the mess.

  “Yes, I think so.” She yawned and drifted back to sleep.

  8

  Gannon tended to his other chores and checked the Gates, making sure nothing had gotten past them while he’d slept. Though he often went into the Drifts, rarely did a person from there come into his world. He made sure they saw a sealed Gate in a small shadowed room if they got past his defenses.

  He lived in a T’ween, a place between worlds that created what he wished with mere thoughts. At times, he immersed himself in cultures beyond the Gates, and his home reflected that.

  Back at the cottage, he scraped his boots clean on the doormat before entering, then went to the bed and checked on Kayla. Holding her against him, he pulled the bedclothes off to the side and checked the bandage to see if she’d damaged herself. He unwound one somewhat so he could see the wounds; they seemed to be healing faster than normal. Worried, he wrapped her back up and pulled the quilt up around her shoulders.

  “Your turn, buddy.” He turned to the dog, petting him on the head. When he picked the dog up, it grunted. Whimpering. “I know it hurts, but I need to get you outside so I can take a closer look at your wounds.” He put the dog on his outdoor worktable and stepped back inside for a moment to check on the girl. She tossed back and forth on the bed, feverish and in pain, but asleep. He frowned. When he finished with the dog; he should make her more tea.

  He gathered his implements and fresh herbs to make the drink he’d given the dog the night before, though not as strong. He didn’t want him to sleep as long this time.

  “Okay, buddy, let’s get this in you.” He pulled the liquid into the syringe to give the dog a dose. The dog shook his head, trying to rid himself of the taste, sticking his tongue in and out several times. He finally settled down and set his head on his paws.

  Gannon set to work taking off the bandages, swearing under his breath at what he saw. The damned MoonSkin must have done more damage than he thought. Wounds that should have taken weeks to heal had only taken hours, just like a MoonSkin.

  The dog whimpered at Gannon, locking eyes with him. The man jumped back and bumped into the cabin in surprise when the dog’s form began to blur. A young man sat in his place, breathing hard and looking ready to collapse.

  “It’s not what you think,” the dog-man began before a fit of coughing racked his body.

  “And what would I be thinking?” He approached the man, his fascination overriding caution.

  “That the MoonSkin changed Kayla and me. We’re not one of them.” He slumped against the table, shuddered, and lay still.

  Gannon ran to his side. “You foolish pup, what in god’s name possessed you to change in this condition?” Gannon pushed the young man flat and stared at his hands coated in blood. His fear for the dog-man grew. “What’s your name?”

  “I was Rafe…once. Now I’m Roo.”

  “Just lay still, Roo, and try not to talk.”

  “I needed to tell you that this isn’t from the MoonSkin…Please don’t tell Kayla. She wouldn’t understand…I’m her Guardian,” Roo panted.

  “Why shouldn’t she know you’re her Guardian?” But before he received an answer, Roo passed out.

  Gannon stared as the young man blurred back into a large dog. With more questions than answers, he set about repairing the damage the rash pup had brought on himself. Blood stained the table as he recleaned the wounds, storming in and out of the cottage for supplies. He disturbed Kayla in his irritation. His breath caught at the sight of her staring at him with cold blue eyes, leaning against the doorframe.

  “What have you done to Roo?” Her voice sounded dead. He looked down at the blood dripping from his hands and her dog covered in it, lying motionless on the table.

  “Nothing.” Brushing past her in his hurry to bandage the wounded dog, he froze as he felt the prick of a knife.

  “If you’ve hurt him… I swear I’ll kill you.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt that I’ve hurt him, but not in the way you mean.” Spinning, he grabbed her wrist. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He disarmed her and pressed her arms above her head in one swift motion.

  She struggled against his hold. “Let me go, you bastard!”

  “Now that I may be. No one knows for sure.” Once his ire cooled, he realized it looked bad. He dropped her blood-smeared arms as if burned, knowing he was hurting her.

  “Go see for yourself.” He motioned towards the dog, and then brushed past her to get the bandages. He didn’t know what got into him. Gannon went back out and found her kneeling on the table with the dog’s head on her lap.

  “Satisfied?” he snapped.

  She nodded.

  “Now, if you don’t mind.” He motioned to the dog.

  * * *

  She noticed the rows of neat stitching, the swift, efficient way the man worked, and felt ashamed, realizing she owed him an apology. More, she owed him their lives. They would have died had he not found them and brought them to wherever this was.

  “When I saw...I thought, I thought you were hurting him. My memories of today and last night are all jumbled and confusing.” Feeling a warm breeze on her skin, she lifted her face to the sun. It felt good after so long in the darkness. “Where…what is this place?”

  “My home.”

  She scowled at him. “I’m sorry.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I’m sorry, all right?” she snarled.

  “Okay, okay, calm down. I didn’t hear you. I was focused on th
e dog.” He grinned at her. She glared at him, having no idea what he found so amusing. Her side hurt and she was getting tired, even though it felt good to sit out in the sun.

  “Well, okay then. That’s settled,” she said.

  “Yes, it is,” he answered, moving away from her. “Now it’s time for you and the pup here to rest while I cook up some breakfast. I know you might not feel hungry, but try to stuff it down,” Gannon told her. “Maybe it will clear up your hardheadedness,” he said to the dog while he carried him inside.

  * * *

  “Now, wait just a minute. What did Roo ever do that was so hardheaded?” she asked.

  “He’s stuck with you, hasn’t he?” Gannon chuckled and ducked through the doorway, the weight of the dog in his arms causing him to lean down further than normal. With his head down, something exploded behind him, showering him with dust. Setting the dog on the bed, he turned around only to get another clod of dirt in the chest. What is it with this girl, anyway?

  “Now it’s your turn,” he roared, charging after her. He saw light fade from her eyes, replaced by fear. He regretted his rashness as she dropped the last of the dirt clods, fleeing. He overcame her; she struggled when he scooped her up.

  “Calm down. You’ve nothing to fear. I’ve got to get you to bed.”

  She went limp, trembling. Not sure what to make of her, Gannon carried her in and laid her next to her dog. After checking her bandages for blood, he pulled the quilt up around her shoulders, satisfied she hadn’t hurt herself further. He moved off to put up the rest of the bandages and clear away all the medical supplies.

  Short on bandages, he went about the cabin and gathered the dirty ones, throwing them into a large pot sitting over the outdoor fire pit. Gannon headed to the well and filled up his water buckets.

  After pouring one into the outdoor pot and adding soap, he brought in more water for the cottage to make breakfast. He decided eggs would be nice and gentle on the stomach for his hurt guests. He headed back to the house, almost tripping over the cat.

  “What?” he asked in frustration. “I’m doing my best. It’s not my fault the girl won’t stay in bed and heal.”