The squeal of the old iron hinges was deafening to the girl. She spun and lunged for the door, but not fast enough. It clanged shut, the world winking out instantly. Tina screamed. The rustling suddenly got louder, moving throughout the empty silo. Tina’s breathing was like an overworked car engine, rattling loudly in her throat. “Please.” She said, her voice cracking.
Something cold and wet touched her arm, sliding along it like a tongue. A tongue made of slimy ice. Tina jumped and spun in the dark. “Please, stop it, whoever you are. I just wanna go home.”
“You are home.” The voice floated to her from the darkness, soft and raspy. She wanted to scream again but her throat was locked up. There was a growl, somewhere close to her, like a wolf or a coyote. Something scuttled over her right sneaker and she kicked at it, stumbling towards where she thought the door might have been.
Another voice spoke, this time from beside her right ear. So close she should have felt its breath on her skin. But she felt nothing. No breath. No brush of lips against her ear. It was a different voice. This one was a low rumble, from something that didn’t sound human. “Scream, if you like, it only makes it sweeter.”
Hard, bonelike hands seized her arms and legs and Tina did scream. She screamed and screamed, but nobody was there to hear except for the half formed and the long dead. Things began to laugh in the dark; the sound growing until even the girl’s screams were drowned out.
Outside the silo, the sun sank below the horizon, throwing a reddish gold hew over the town of Matheson. The shadows lengthened and the dark places in the town became a great deal colder. The seasons were changing. Summer was dying at the approach of autumn, fading away like a ghost in the wind, and the town was going through a subtle change. Some of the older folk would feel the change, though they wouldn’t be able to name it. Just a feeling that things weren’t right in Matheson. Not anymore.
But nobody knew how badly things had changed.
Not yet.
Chapter 27
Brandon opened his eyes, the feeling of strength and warmth a dim memory, and stared up at the familiar ceiling of his bedroom at Highgarden. Golden light slipped through the closed drapes over his bedroom window, painting the walls red. Brandon didn’t move. Cutting his eyes, he found Gerrick sitting beside his bed. The big man’s face was unreadable as he watched his nephew. Claire was sitting in a chair on the other side, her head resting on Brandon’s bed. Brandon tried to talk and coughed, instead. His throat was hoarse.
Claire raised her head, her face pale in the darkening room. “Thank God.” She said, turning to look at Gerrick. “He’s awake.”
Gerrick nodded and stood. He looked from Brandon to Claire, his face still unreadable. “Don’t keep him up long. He needs rest, and you need to get home before your parents begin to worry.” He turned and walked out of the room, leaving the two of them alone together. Brandon watched his uncle leave and felt a curious sense of loss.
Gerrick wasn’t his real uncle. He was the last Knight of the Towers; same as Brandon was the last Son of Storms. They were both orphans; alone in a world that wasn’t really theirs.
When Gerrick left, Claire turned back to Brandon. “Your uncle scares me, Bran.” She was still without her eye patch. Brandon’s gaze kept returning to the smooth skin where her eye should have been. She saw him looking and blushed. “Usually I have extras. Eye patches, I mean. But not today.” She tried to turn her head so that he only saw her right profile, hiding her left. Brandon coughed again, clearing his throat.
“Don’t.” His voice was rough and painful to use. He tried to sit up, but found his whole body felt incredibly weak. As if he had been on a long journey, with no food or water.
Water. The rain.
“The rain?” Brandon said softly. “Is it still raining?”
“It stopped some time ago.” Claire said, facing him. Reaching out, she took his hand from where it lay on the bed. Her grip was soft and warm. For the first time since waking, he noticed that she was wearing a bathrobe. She said, reading his eyes. Or mind. He didn’t know which. “Your uncle let me use your shower while he washed my clothes and dried them.”
“What happened?” Brandon said, pushing himself back against the headboard and working his way up to a sitting position. He looked at the window, at the dying light. “How long have I been out?”
“About three hours.” Claire said, leaning forward to run a hand through his hair. Brandon could remember his mom doing the very same thing, but this time it felt different. His skin was tingling. Claire was talking. “I ran here as fast as I could, but your uncle found me before I was halfway. He said he knew something was wrong. That he felt it. He went straight to where you were, like a laser or something.” Claire shivered. “You were floating in the water, Bran. Your face was pointing at the sky and your eyes were open. I thought you were dead.” She said the last bit so quietly that Brandon didn’t think he was meant to hear.
“But I wasn’t.” Brandon said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I was just unconscious, right?”
Claire looked at him for a long time, not answering right away. Standing, she leaned over him and placed her lips on his. He wasn’t prepared. Not at all. But the kiss was short. Short but sweet. When she pulled back she was crying. “I thought you were dead, Bran. You can’t know how that made me feel. You’re my best friend, but it’s more than that. I.. I care so much for you. It almost killed me to see you that way. Looking so lifeless.”
She had been about to say she loved him, Brandon knew. He felt his heart swell inside of his chest. He tried to make his smile bright. “But I’m okay, now, right? We’re both alright.”
There was a knock and Gerrick put his head into the room. “Your mom’s on the phone, Claire. She wants to talk to you.” He stepped inside and stared at the two of them. Claire met Brandon’s eyes for a moment before leaving. As she went out into the hall, Gerrick spoke, his voice deep and even. “Your clothes are dry. You might want to change before your dad gets here.”
Claire nodded and left.
Alone together, Brandon found he had a thousand questions for his uncle but was afraid to ask even one. Brandon sat in the bed and watched the older man as he moved further into the room, stopping to stand at the foot of the bed. He didn’t look angry, or even upset, but Brandon knew that he had to be. His only job was to protect Brandon. To do it at the cost of his own life, if need be. And Brandon had nearly gotten himself killed.
“You’ve had a full day.” Gerrick said, his voice more curious than angry. He crossed his arms in front of his mammoth chest and stared down at Brandon. “Is there anything you want to tell me about it? Anything odd happen while you were in the water?”
He knows. Brandon thought. He knows about the rain, about Nina, about all of it. And he knows that I know.
Brandon didn’t say anything for a moment, then shook his head and said. “Nothing odd. Except, maybe, that whole almost drowning thing. But I’m a big boy. It was nothing that I couldn’t handle.”
“Things are happening too fast, Bran.” Gerrick said, turning to leave. He stopped at the door, looking back at Brandon. “Say your goodbyes to the girl. She’s going home.” It only took Claire’s dad a few minutes to get to HighGarden, barely giving her time to get dressed and to tell Brandon goodbye. She hugged him, with his uncle watching, and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you at school?”
Brandon tried to nod, but his uncle spoke first. “Bran will probably miss a couple of days, Claire. You could pick up his homework and drop it off after school, if you don’t mind?”
Claire smiled. “That would be great, Mr. Merryweather.” She winked at Brandon as she left. “Get well soon, tiger.” Then she was gone. Gerrick followed her out, closing the door behind them, and Brandon was left alone in his room. Alone, except for his thoughts and the memories of a man long dead.
Gerrick stood on the front step and watched the man and his daughter disappear down the winding drive. Claire’s father was
one of those doting American dads that befuddled the Knight of Towers. How could a man let his child rule him so completely? Where was the respect? The discipline?
The girl simply said. “Hey, dad. This is Mr. Merryweather. Mr. Merryweather, this is my dad.”
The two men shook hands, sizing each other up. Moody smiled politely. “I’m Kevin. It’s nice to finally meet you. Bran seems like a fine boy.”
Of course, Gerrick thought. Bran’s good looking. Good hearted. And genuinely seems to care for your daughter. You’ve got to be ecstatic that such a fine boy wants your handicapped daughter. He smiled at Moody. “Thank you, Mr. Moody. Claire’s an angel, herself.”
The man beamed. “Call me Kevin.” Gerrick wanted out of this, now. He didn’t like talking to people, especially the father of the girl that his pupil was in love with. He smiled at the man. He knew how his smile looked. He had cultivated it in all its hardness. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Moody. If you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.”
Claire’s father seemed to catch some of Gerrick’s discomfort. He frowned and nodded. “No problem. We’ll just get going.” He looked at his daughter. “You ready, peaches?”
“Peaches, dad?” Claire groaned. “Why didn’t you just bring my blanky, while you were at it?”
They left, waving as they drove away, and Gerrick went back inside. He thought of the boy upstairs and his frowning face darkened. Not much time left, he knew. It was time to prepare.
It was time to take the boy to task.
It was time to tell him the truth. Or, at least, part of it.
Brandon was up; dressed in a shirt and jeans, when Gerrick came back into his room. “You and I need to have words, Bran. Be in my office in ten minutes.”
Brandon watched his uncle disappear and felt a tingle of apprehension. It was time, he knew. Time for his uncle to level with him. He stood on wobbly knees, thinking of all that had happened. He felt he’d been in bed for months, not hours. Like years had passed since he went into that canal. He went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked 20 years old. He washed his face and brushed his teeth. Barefoot, he padded down the hall to his uncle’s office and knocked on the door. It was exactly 10 minutes since Gerrick poked his head into Brandon’s bedroom.
“Come in.” His uncle’s voice called out.
Brandon went in, closing the door behind him. This wasn’t the first time Brandon had been in his uncle’s sanctuary. The walls were lined with bookshelves, mostly tactical manuals and books on different places. The US and Canada. The Middle East. There were weapons here, as well. Swords and long knives. Brandon recognized one of the swords (the one that held the best place in the room, on the desk) as the sword from the vision. Or dream. Whatever it was.
“What’s going on?” Brandon said, sitting in the chair in front of Gerrick’s desk. He leaned back, folding his hands in his lap. Gerrick was sitting in profile, head back so he could stare at the ceiling. When he spoke, his voice was thoughtful.
“Tell me everything that she told you.”
“Claire?” Brandon said, knowing that wasn’t who his uncle was talking about.
Gerrick turned and looked at him. His eyes were hard. “The Goddess. What did she tell you?”
Brandon was quiet. In his mind’s eye, he kept seeing Gerrick in his dream, bowing before him. Before his grandfather. His young face streaked with blood and grime as he held his sword at Brandon’s feet.
Gerrick turned in his seat and fully faced him. He wasn’t angry. He didn’t even look upset. He looked relieved. Relieved that it wouldn’t be his job to tell Brandon the truth about his past and his future. Relieved that he didn’t have to explain why Brandon’s parents died. He asked again. “What did she tell you, Bran?”
Brandon told him. Not just what Nina had said, but everything that had been happening to him? Starting with the first dream he had, about Gerrick’s defeat and surrender, and ending with the last dream, of his grandfather’s death, and his talk with Nina. Gerrick listened closely as the boy spoke, not once interrupting him. Not even when he wanted to throw in an explanation or two. The boy would have plenty of questions when he finished. Gerrick would let him ask them.
When Brandon finished talking, he looked at his uncle. Gerrick knew what he was going to say before he said it. Gerrick said, before the boy could speak. “I served your family for 3 years before the Usurper gained enough strength to scatter your grandfather’s armies, sending your father and uncle to this strange world. I was as close to your father as any man could be and not be a brother. I thought of him as a brother, as he thought of me.”
“You were best friends?” Brandon asked. He leaned forward in his chair and blinked at Gerrick.
“Yes.” Gerrick said, quirking his lips. “We were. We taught one another many things over the years. I taught your father how to fight. How to defend himself. The same way that I’m teaching you. Your father taught me how to live, how to deal with people in everyday situations, without resorting to violence.”
“Doesn’t look like either of you did a very good job.” Brandon said. He didn’t mean to sound bitter, but he couldn’t keep all of it out of his voice.
“I guess not.” Gerrick said, his smile fading. “I don’t like people. And your father had no taste for killing. Or fighting, for that matter. But we did our best.” He laughed. It was a strange sound to Brandon’s ears, coming from his uncle. “I can remember teaching your father how to disarm somebody. At the same time, he was trying to teach me how to properly introduce myself to somebody I’d never met before. It didn’t take long for it to degenerate into a wrestling match, with me barely getting the upper hand. Your father was fierce, even though he didn’t take fighting seriously.”
Brandon said, meeting his uncle’s gaze. “Would he be alive today if he had taken your training more seriously? Could he have beaten the Curse?”
Gerrick shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” He looked away, not wanting Brandon to see the look in his eyes. Not wanting him to see the lie. “Sha’ha’zel is not like other demons.”
Brandon didn’t say anything. A thousand questions waited just behind his sealed lips, but he didn’t think that he had the strength to hear the answers. Not yet. He shifted in his seat and thought about Claire. What was she telling her parents? Was she all right? As if reading his mind, his uncle said. “Claire is a sweet girl, Bran.”
“I know.” Brandon said.
“Which makes this even harder for me to say.” Gerrick said, meeting Brandon’s gaze. “You have to stop seeing her.”
Brandon looked up quickly, staring hard at Gerrick. “What are you talking about?” He stood up, scraping the chair back angrily. “Why? She’s my only friend. I’m not going to hurt her, whatever you say. Who’ll protect her from the Kruegers? From the Curse?”
“Away from you, she wont need protection.” Gerrick said, his voice soft and sad.
“Bullshit.” Brandon said, angrily. “If I leave her alone, the Kruegers will tear her apart.”
“Then you’ll have to protect her without her knowing it.” Gerrick said. He looked hard at Brandon. “Anyone close to you is in danger, Bran. Even I can’t stop the Curse.”
“But there are rules.” Brandon said. “Nina told me. There are things that keep me safe from Sha’Ha’Zel.”
“Did she tell you these rules?” Gerrick asked. “Did she tell you what’s keeping the curse from tearing you apart on a whim?”
Brandon didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
Gerrick shook his head. “Sha’Ha’Zel can’t touch you until you reach manhood, Bran. That’s the single thing keeping you alive, right now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brandon said, shaking his head. “What, when I turn eighteen? When I graduate, the curse is going to show up, waving his knives?”
Gerrick shook his head. “In all cultures there are different things that are considered to be what constitutes the shift from adolesc
ence to adulthood. Some have specific rites of passage to signal the growth of boy into man.”
“What rites of passage do I have to perform?” Brandon asked. He had an idea of what Gerrick might say, but he needed to hear it spoken. “Two things.” Gerrick said, looking away from Brandon, towards the office window. Outside, it was now dark. The moon was just visible behind a layer of clouds. “One, you have to spill blood in combat.” He turned and met Brandon’s gaze. “Which you have done, in your battles with these Krueger boys.”
Brandon asked. “And the other?”
Gerrick didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stood up and came around his desk. He stopped in front of Brandon and looked down at him. He said. “You have to lay with a woman. You have to lose your virginity.”
“You’re serious?”
“Deadly serious.” Gerrick said. He shook his head. “These are the rules set down by the old gods, governing the magic that gives the curse life. Sha’ha’Zel will not break them. There are other rules I could tell you, but these two are the ones keeping you alive.”
“What other rules?” Brandon said, not really paying attention. He was thinking of Claire. His uncle was right, he knew. He couldn’t put her in danger, not if there was something he could do to stop it. He went back to his chair and sat down.
“There are only a handful.” Gerrick said, looking down at the top of the boy’s head. “When you achieve manhood, you have a set period of time before the curse can take you. I’m not sure, but I think it’s only a matter of days. Maybe a week.” Gerrick said. “The girl you sleep with will only be in danger, herself, if she becomes pregnant with your child. If this happens, she becomes connected to you by blood, and falls under the same curse as you. He will leave her be until the child is born, but once that happens, she will be killed.”
Brandon closed his eyes, letting his head drop. His head was pounding and he thought he might throw up. “What else?”
Rain Of Stone (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 1) Page 13