Knowledge Protects (The Nememiah Chronicles Book 5)

by D. S. Williams

  I shook my head. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because my interference has made things tough between you and Conal.” He scrubbed his hands over his cheeks, lifting his gaze back to mine. “Because I screwed up. I should never have told you what was happening. Conal was keeping it from you for all the right reasons, and my prying made things worse than they needed to be.”

  I remained quiet, tired to the bone, trying to figure out where this pep talk was coming from. I loved Conal – no matter what happened in the last couple of days – I loved him. But for now, revulsion tamped down love. I still wasn't sure how to get over it.

  “He killed Laurence Armstrong,” Lucas reminded me. “He ripped his throat out, and you were happy that he did it.”

  I refrained from rolling my eyes, but only just. “Shut up, Lucas. I still haven't forgiven you for keeping me in the dark.”

  “It was not my role to tell you, love. And if you'll recall, you accepted Ben, Striker and I killing the members of Ambrose's Kiss when they threatened you.”

  “Conal kept secrets from me. Everyone did,” I grumbled, answering one part of Lucas' argument and ignoring the other.

  “Is it that which annoys you the most? Or the fact that you saw Conal kill two members of his pack?”

  “Go away.”

  Matt was gazing at me when I looked up and I caught a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

  “What?”

  “You get a certain look on your face when you're losing an argument with your spirit friends. What did they say?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Lucas pointed out that I might be a bit… selective with how I'm reacting to what happened with Conal's pack. He reminded me that what happened is not much different to what anyone else has probably done at one stage or another.”

  Matt's expression was somber. “He's right, Charlotte. I admit, what I saw out there, it was… intense. I'm the first to confess I was uncomfortable. But since joining you and your group I've learned these people… they aren't human, baby. They look human,” his eyes sparkled when he corrected himself, “at least, they look human some of the time… but they aren't. You know it, I know it.”

  “I know all that, Matt,” I began, but he held up a hand to stop me.

  “Hear me out, Charlotte. Don't throw away what you two have. I think you need Conal, just as much as he needs you.” He thought for a moment, his forehead creased. “I've seen a lot of weird stuff, in lots of countries, all around the world. I've seen different cultures, different religions, and a whole heap of strange customs – things you wouldn't believe.”

  “I'm pretty sure none of them eat members of their own group,” I retorted dully.

  “Maybe not, but some of their customs – you'd be surprised.”

  My eyes landed on his again, and he offered me a wry smile. “You didn't like what he did, Charlotte. I understand that. You're hurt because he kept it secret. But did it occur to you that he kept it secret for precisely this reason? Because he knew you couldn't comprehend the customs of his pack? He didn't do anything wrong. He did what his customs and cultures told him he needed to do. And from what I can see, he didn't go into this situation half-cocked – I spoke to Kenyon and Ralph, and they both agreed Conal had fought against taking this particular path – that's why things have taken so long to get resolved.” Matt wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer and offering me a heartfelt hug. “Forgive him, Charlotte. Forgive him, and move on. With everything that's going on… you two need one another now, more than ever.”

  I thought long and hard on Matt's advice; while his wasn't the only guidance I'd received, his held most sway. Strangely enough, after years of not having him around, I respected his support the most.

  By the time I left Matt, showered, cuddled with Patrick and fed him, it was early evening. After an update on the Dwarblrl'g situation, during which Arasinya confirmed they'd made little progress, I got in a short training session with Nissa on the use of a Fae sword and managed to grab a late dinner shortly before ten pm. Jerome was grumpy, because he'd had to chase me down twice for injections; I was irritable because I was overly-tired, and once again, I was questioning the sanity of what I was trying to do out here in the middle of nowhere with three thousand people relying on me for their survival. And regardless of anything else, I was lonely and heartsick. I missed Conal, badly.

  The full moon was bright over camp, bathing the huge tent city in a dim glow, revealing the shapes of the tents, and outlining the equipment and surrounding tree line in shadowy tones of grey. Adjusting my grip on Patrick, I yawned heavily, and in a split-second decision, turned away from the tent I'd been sharing with Nissa and headed toward the southern side of the camp, where Conal's tent was situated. Nissa followed silently, not broaching the subject of where I might be going or why.

  Light emanated from inside Conal's tent, and the hurricane lamp pinpointed his shape, sitting up on the bedroll. My heart skipped and stuttered through a couple of beats, knowing he was there. I wasn't sure what to say, didn't know how to deal with the chasm which had developed between us in the past few days. But there was no time like the present, and Matt was right – we needed to sort this out.

  “I'll be fine now, Nissa, thank you.”

  Nissa arched one fine, black eyebrow.

  “I'm planning on staying here tonight,” I added.

  “I will wait,” Nissa announced. “To confirm that does indeed remain your intention.”

  “Trust me,” I responded grimly. “That's my intention.” I wasn't certain what my reception would be, but I wanted to fight for what Conal and I shared. I loved him too much, needed him too much, to let our relationship fall apart over a single issue. Even if it was a big one.

  “I will wait for ten minutes,” Nissa amended. “If you have not reappeared, and there are no sounds of hostilities coming from within Conal's tent, then I will return to my own lodgings.”

  “Nissa, that's really—”

  “—unnecessary,” Conal finished the sentence as he unzipped the tent flap. He glanced from Patrick and me, to Nissa. “If Lottie decides she doesn't want to stay, I'll escort her to your tent. I give you my word.”

  Nissa's orange eyes swept over Conal's dark ones, then over mine before she spoke. “Agreed.” The tall elven woman turned away and made her way gracefully through camp. We both watched her disappear around a corner before Conal turned to me, a faint half smile on his lips. “She's more protective of you than I am, if that's even possible.”

  I stared up at him mutely, uncertain what to say.

  Conal stepped back. “Come on in, Sugar. It's cold out there.”

  I took him up on the offer, stepping over the zippered edge of the tent. Patrick stirred, and Conal glanced around. “I don't have the cradle, I figured you'd had someone come and pick it up.” He leaned down and reached into his duffel bag, retrieving a couple of thick, knitted sweaters, which he placed on the floor of the tent and fashioned into a small cocoon of warmth for Patrick. “Best I can do,” he announced when he straightened up, after adjusting his handiwork until he was satisfied.

  “Thank you.” I lowered Patrick into the makeshift cradle and Conal dived into his bag again, retrieving a folded t-shirt. He shook it out and tucked the material around my sleeping son, ensuring his hands were under the t-shirt where they'd stay warm. My heart lifted – this was a reminder of the Conal I knew and loved. Almost instantly, the memory of the challenge in the woods replaced the tender scene, and goosebumps rose on my skin.

  Conal noticed my discomfort, his dark eyes flashing with regret and hurt. “Will you be able to forgive me?” he asked bluntly.

  “I hope so. I don't want to go through the rest of my life without you,” I admitted.

  “Ah, Sugar.” Conal wrapped me in his arms and held me close, muttering against the top of my head as he rubbed his hands over my back. “I didn't want to do it. If there'd been any other way, I would've taken it.”

  I pushed aga
inst his chest until he relaxed his hold and offered him a tremulous smile. “I know.” Inhaling sharply, I offered up the only excuse I had. “Sometimes I forget you're a werewolf, and your customs, your life – it's so different to what I'm used to. I guess, if we're going to be together… I need to accept it.”

  Conal leaned his forehead against mine and shut his eyes. “It doesn't happen very often.”

  I sighed, rubbing my fingers against my throbbing temples. “I suppose that's good news.”

  Conal shook his head. “We shouldn't talk about this now, Charlotte. Let's get back on an even keel—”

  There was an ominous noise from outside; a muffled explosion of sorts. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't place the sound. It made me think of soil moving swiftly, dirt being pushed by something, perhaps an avalanche or a mudslide…

  Conal cursed a blue streak and released me, turning to snatch up his weapons belt. “Grab Patrick,” he ordered.

  I still couldn't place the sound, and stood mutely, watching as he hurriedly wrapped the belt around his hips. The sound outside sent a trickle of fear streaking through my heart, but I couldn't figure out why it sounded familiar. What could cause such a sense of trepidation? Agony exploded in my head when the spirits added to the frenzy, sending warning messages in such a jumbled web of instructions and information, I was struck mute and uncomprehending of what was happening.

  “Charlotte! Move!” Conal shouted, unzipping the tent flap, and giving the camp a cursory glance before he turned back to me. “You've got to get Patrick to safety!” He spoke to someone outside, and I heard Nissa's voice, caught the urgency in her tone when she responded to Conal's words. Still I remained immobile in the center of the tent. When Conal turned back again, I saw frustration in his features, as well as a healthy dose of fear. “Demons, Charlotte! You've got to take Patrick and get the hell out of here! Now!”

  His words galvanized me into action and I snatched Patrick up, holding him against my chest, and using a hand to shield his head. The sense of trepidation exploded into unadulterated fear when I realized what was happening outside, and recognition collided with the voices of hundreds of people; shouting, screaming, and yelling to one another. The spirits too, began to shout clearer warnings and I caught Mom's voice above the others.

  “Charlotte! Get Patrick to safety!” she shrieked.

  Nissa appeared, snatching Patrick out of my arms and handing me a weapons belt. “Put this on, Angel.”

  “Get them to the portals, I'll catch up,” Conal snapped. He pressed a brief kiss on my forehead and slipped from the tent, and I stared after him for a few seconds. I couldn't figure out why he wasn't transforming, couldn't seem to put together what I was seeing and hearing with the reality of the situation. My actions seemed slow and stupid, my capacity to comprehend frozen in an attitude of disbelief.

  “Angel! Come on!” Nissa yelled. I stared at her in surprise. The Fae didn't yell, it wasn't in their nature to panic, or show overt signs of emotion. The fact that my Fae friend was yelling galvanized me into action.

  I slapped the belt around my hips and did up the buckle with fingers which resisted; shivers rippled through my body and I knew what the fear related to. There were demons outside, in our formerly peaceful campsite. And where there were demons… Archangelo couldn't be far behind.

  “Release us, Charlotte,” Lucas commanded. “Release us, and then take Patrick to safety.”

  “I've got to help,” I protested, but my reactions made it clear that I wasn't ready. Loud screams and explosions erupted all over camp and flickering tongues of flame cast a reddish glow over the tent wall. With a burst of single-minded concentration, I released the spirits, sending them out to fight what terrorized the camp.

  “You're right. You are not ready,” Keenan announced when he corporealized beside me. “You haven't had enough time to prepare. Take the child, and flee. Phelan and I will escort you and Nissa to the portals, and we will fight in your stead.” The massive fairy was clenching the sword of Galion in a meaty fist, prepared to wade into battle immediately. When Phelan appeared, he also urged me to hurry, glancing worriedly towards the noise outside.

  Nissa settled Patrick back in my arms and gripped my elbow, pulling us out of the tent and into the chaos. Tents burned, wolves howled, people shrieked and the demons screamed, as they, along with dozens of vampire younglings, attacked anything they could reach. A contingent of the Fae ran past, bows at the ready and swords unsheathed. One stopped to glance at Nissa and me, shaking his head grimly. “We will do what we can, but get the Nememiah's Child to a portal. She and the child must be taken to safety.”

  “Come, Angel. Run.” Nissa took off at swift pace, still clutching my arm.

  I followed her lead, cringing and ducking when each new sound exploded, battling against a nearly overwhelming desire to hide. Shapeshifters and werewolves transformed all around us and joined the fight, while others hurried the human contingent in the opposite direction, the same direction Nissa was dragging me towards. I'd seen the pentagrams marked on the dirt, ready save for the final sigil. From our position I could see the brightness of the portals illuminating the trees overhead, sending people to safety.

  Ripley and Acenith joined us and added themselves seamlessly to the protective circle surrounding Patrick and me, joining Nissa, Keenan, Phelan, and Lyell Tremaine. Between them, they kept the enemy at bay, although we were in constant danger of being overrun.

  A Valafar barreled towards us, shrieking and snarling, and I froze on the spot. Memories of previous battles – the chaos, the horror – every facet of the sheer, gut-wrenching terror which accompanied these confrontations was swiftly flooding my mind. Keenan stood his ground as the demon approached, lifting his sword over his head and planting his feet widely apart, watching until the last possible second before the demon reached him. With a powerful, sweeping motion he beheaded the demon, and a spray of black blood created an arc across my t-shirt, narrowly missing Patrick's head. He whimpered and stirred in my arms, stretching his little body in annoyance at the interruption to his nap and I held him tighter, wondering how anyone could survive this.

  “Charlotte, we must get you to safety!” Ripley shouted over the din.

  “Give Patrick to me!” Acenith urged. “I'm faster, I'll get him through the portal, give him to Misaki to care for. I sent her through with Kazuki a few minutes ago.”

  “How did they find us?” I muttered. It seemed incomprehensible that they'd locate the camp, here in the middle of nowhere.

  “We have no idea,” Ripley shouted. “And now isn't the time to answer that question.”

  Despite a mountain of doubts, I handed Patrick over to Acenith, pressing a final, desperate kiss to his forehead. “I need to go with him.” I didn't want to let Patrick out of my sight – as much as I loved and trusted Acenith, this was my son. Even so, my head told my heart what I needed to do, even as Acenith shook her head. “Charlotte, it will be best if you're separated for now – the two of you are far too bigger prize and I'm sure Archangelo—”

  I shook my head, stopping her. She didn't need to say what I knew was true. If we were being attacked, Archangelo would be here soon, if not already. The prize of recapturing Patrick and myself was too good an opportunity to pass up. It made sense for us to be separated. Even so…

  I sucked in a sharp breath, ducking for cover when another explosion of dirt erupted, another demon started to coalesce. Running on automatic pilot, I called more spirits, sending them to fight.

  All the familiar sight and sounds were pressing at my consciousness – in the months of captivity, not knowing who I was – the memory of these attacks had been forgotten. Now though, the smoke from the burning tents and trees assailed my nostrils, and every ear-splitting shriek and scream seemed to vibrate down through my eardrums and create a chokehold on my heart and chest. The metallic scent of blood was encroaching on my tongue, as members of our group were caught and exterminated.

  Acenith
vanished in an instant, taking my son away. Her movements were indistinguishable to the eye, but I felt as if my heart had been torn from my chest and gone with her.

  “He'll be safer, love,” Lucas reassured, his voice a soft echo against the din assaulting my ears. “Acenith has already taken him through a portal, and Epi has closed and blocked it to ensure Patrick's protection. Now you need to get to one.”

  “I need to stay and fight,” I shouted, but even as I spoke the words, I doubted myself. How could I fight against… this? How had I ever fought against these creatures? We were surrounded on every side by demons and younglings, and battalions of Aethelwine's Fae were swarming around us, fighting man against man with my people. I caught sight of Bhekimuzi running towards some of Aethelwine's Fae, smoothly transitioning into lion form when he landed among them. His transformation happened so swiftly, his clothes seemed to explode from his body as he changed, remnants of shredded material fluttering gently to the ground, at odds with the fury of the surrounding attack.

  “No way, Charlotte!” Phelan warned. He spun around on the ball of one foot, slicing through a youngling's shoulder with a Fae blade, cleaving the vampire's arm from the shoulder. Blood spurted listlessly from the wound, confirming the vampire had fed recently. Phelan slashed the knife down again, before Lyell tore the hapless youngling's head from his partially severed neck. “We're taking you to a portal!”

  A body fell at my feet, thrown by an Omias – its six lengthy arms, still in motion, reminding me of the fronds of a water plant, billowing back and forth in unison with the tide. It started to blunder towards us, the tentacles on its head echoing the same flowing movement as the arms.

  “Charlotte! Move!” Ripley bellowed and I stumbled back, away from the poor soul whose body landed in front of us. Blood pumped from a gaping wound in his chest, and although I hadn't known him personally, I recognized his face as one of the new people I'd met in the past few days. His vacant eyes stared, silently condemning my failure to keep him safe.