Guardians of the Portals

by Nya Rawlyns

  Twirling and preening, she committed every tiny detail to muscle memory, an imprint, a shortcut key for her brain, or whatever controlled the process.

  Revenge prodded, What's he doing in there?

  The woman masquerading as Caitlin wondered, Which one does he want?

  The young girl moaned, Why can't he love the real me?

  As much as it rankled, there was no denying his obvious interest in the 'new and improved'. Hell, if she were a man, she'd be slobbering over the full-figured vision, every warrior's wet dream, or so she imagined.

  Turning away from the mirror, she muttered, "Shit, what do I know from wet dreams?"

  Revenge poked, hard. Something was up. The tether jerked spasmodically. Odd how she never noticed that before. It seemed keyed to emotions and events. Her secret companion certainly took note. Perhaps she should also.

  She circled the bed, calling "Kriger," trying it out as an endearment, soft and tentative. Silence.

  "Wolf!" Louder, modulated, authoritative. That felt better. Truer to the template.

  She'd have to modify the subtle bits, things an actor might need. Delivery, tone, letting the personality nestle in the voice. She had to be more than a marionette. She'd be full-featured, a complete package—perfect, down to the smallest details.

  That might give the man-whore something to think about. Where had that come from? Man-whore? Not her thought. The tether yanked at her gut, once. Hard.

  "Wolf, hon?" That slipped out, the love-struck girl and the heart-sick woman, united in premonition and concern.

  Revenge urged, Not like that.

  "Wha—? Oh."

  She crossed to the small closet. He'd left the door ajar. Atypical for someone who came across as obsessive, tuned to the smallest details. He'd been in a hurry. The hangers were shoved to the left, one askew, jammed against the interior wall so hard it had gouged and imbedded into the surface. She pawed through the shirts, some military stiff, the rest soft flannel casual, outdoorsy and functional. He favored dark colors, smooth earth browns and russet plaids, deep olive greens. His color choices never registered when he'd been the man without a name, passing through her life a giant wearing an invisibility cloak.

  She pulled a plain burgundy corduroy shirt out of the far reaches of the closet and held it up. Frayed about the collar, with the tiny buttons missing, it had the look of well-worn and well-loved. Light shone through the fabric, brighter in some areas where the fibers had worn smooth and thin. The right elbow was threadbare, only a few strands of cotton remaining. Was he left-handed, using the right elbow to brace as he whittled his tiny carvings with the left? She couldn't recall. Such minutiae. Why should they matter?

  His favorite shirt, hidden away, protected. This one.

  Caitlin slipped the shirt on. "Oh shit, it fits."

  She'd forgotten her 'new and improved' dimensions. She muttered, "No wonder he put it in the back. It's shrunk." She giggled softly, "Didn't want to throw it away, did you, big man?"

  That thought gave her pause. She'd not figured him for being the sentimental type, though it shouldn't be a surprise. He'd been nothing but gentle, treating her like the finest porcelain. Even now she felt his feather touches on her spine as he'd held her close, comforting her and soothing the grief away. How could she convince her body that the memory of his soft caresses belonged to another, not to this red-haired giantess?

  Annoyed, she quickly buttoned the shirt and turned to the dresser in search of something to clothe her lower extremities. Revenge prodded, more insistent. She'd forego her natural curiosity. First drawer—underwear. It was an unspoken rule. She'd had her eyes closed when he'd disrobed in the bathroom. Had he gone commando? Now was not the time to find out.

  She reached for the third drawer but it caught and resisted the pull. The dresser was old, garage-sale vintage. Whoever had outfitted the bedrooms had gone with inexpensive and recycled. A quick yank rewarded her with a small stack of pull-on fleece work-out shorts, each with stringed ties in the elastic band. For all his size, he was narrow-waisted, carrying his mass in his chest and arms. The shorts would fit well enough. She grabbed the nondescript gray fleece and pulled it on. A pair of lightweight, dark gray wool socks lay on the desk chair next to the dresser. He'd gone for heavier and discarded these. They would do her just fine.

  Prevaricating. That's what her mom would say when her offspring chose to enter teenage time warps whenever the unpleasant or unaccustomed beckoned. Caitlin's mom. Not Xena's. It was time to confront the man and find out which demon ruled her life.

  Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the mirror with satisfaction and said, "Let's get this show on the road," and strode down the hall toward the bathroom. The light shone through the open doorway, leaving an oblong shape reflecting off the smooth dark pine flooring. Revenge whispered caution so she approached quietly though there was little need as the socks cushioned any noise she might make on the bare wood. Her progress would echo below, in the kitchen, with telltale shuffling, always a background melody that all had remarked and ignored.

  Mouthing Wolf as she peered around the door jamb, she confronted an empty bathroom. She tip-toed in, wishing for a weapon and not knowing why. The man's razor lay in the sink, still bearing lather. The hand towel perched on the left-hand edge and small beads of water still clung to the porcelain surface and the linoleum floor at the base of the sink.

  He would not leave the bathroom in this state. Something was wrong and she didn't need her imaginary friend or the tether to confirm it. She peered in the hamper and pawed through the pile—her clothing, not his. The 'I've got a bad feeling' vibe hit hard. The link throbbed with a steady hum. He was close and they had company. And if they were downstairs, they would know she was up and about. There was little need for quiet.

  On a hunch she raced back to Wolf's bedroom and pawed through the closet. The upper shelf contained only neatly folded sweaters. The rest of the dresser drawers were sparsely occupied with clothing. Frantic now, she knelt on the floor and looked under the bed. A long, narrow wood box and two smaller rectangular boxes lay concealed by the bed skirting. She pulled one of the smaller boxes out and stared with annoyance at the sturdy lock. The key. She needed the key.

  Feeling along the edge of the metal bed frame, she found a small container tucked into the "L"-shape at the head of the bed—a magnetic box for keys. With trembling fingers she opened the lock, saying a small prayer of thanks that her warrior hadn't opted for a more elaborate security system. Grasping the S&W .357, she quickly checked the magazine.

  "Shit. Ammo. Where's the fucking ammo?"

  The dresser drawers lay tilted open. She gave the interiors a quick swipe as she surveyed the small bedroom. There were few hidey-hole places, unless he'd gone clever and hidden stuff under the floorboards. Somehow that seemed unnecessary and too time-consuming. She felt along the shelf in the closet, dislodging sweaters. Even with her height, it was a reach to get to the rear.

  "Ah, ha. There you are." She pulled a clip from the foam lined box and inserted it into the magazine. "Time to rock and roll."

  ****

  "What's she gonna be packing, son?"

  "I'm not your damn son."

  "Fair enough. I'd still like to know what kind of arsenal you've got up there."

  "Nothing. You've got my shotgun."

  "Uh-huh. Well, don't sound like nothing, boy. She'll know better." He chuckled softly. "Hear that? She's in the closet."

  Wolf muttered, "Shit," at the characteristic 'click', the sound transmitted and amplified through the floor boards. They could track her every move. He hoped she'd realize that fact before heading down the stairs.

  Jake prodded the taller man to sit straighter, his hands cuffed behind his back. "I'd rather she see you first. Give her pause."

  Both men stared at the stairwell, waiting.

  Jake muttered, "What's your name anyways?"

  "Liuthr."

  "Liuthr. Ah, yes. You're the one they call 'Wolf
'."

  "How do you...?"

  "Ssh. She's coming. Be real still, Wolf." Jake pressed the Glock against the back of the giant's head. "I'd take it kindly if we didn't have to hurt my girl." He leaned to whisper into the warrior's ear, "You I don't care so much about."

  The men watched Caitlin stalk down the stairs, one step at a time, her backed braced against the wall, the S&W .357 sweeping the open area in smooth, practiced arcs.

  Jake said, "Watch and learn, boy."

  Both men tensed as the Amazon hove into view. She looked strong and competent and completely at ease with the lethal weapon. Jake wondered if his girl would be capable of a killing shot. His gut told him yes, his heart yearned for a different answer.

  The flickering light from the wood stove backlit the men. Wolf, tall and massive, sat on the coffee table, while he, smaller and more compact, sheltered behind the giant's form.

  Jake's heart thudded in his chest. He'd thought his girl dead. That's what they'd been told and he knew even Gunnarr believed it. He'd never have recognized her but for the familiar template she'd used once before, so many months ago when they'd instigated the ill-advised raid on Greyfalcon headquarters. He'd died a little each day since, every one another nail in his coffin until he'd become like Trey—a dead man walking, his final act on this earth to save his son before the young man self-destructed.

  Caitlin approached cautiously. She flicked the gun at the two men in silhouette against the flames.

  "Drop the gun." Neither man spoke. She read the tension in her lover's shoulders and moved close to the couch, keeping the gun trained on the man standing behind her kriger. "Drop it now or I take out both of you."

  "Oh, I doubt you'll do that, Caty."

  "Dad?" Caitlin stared slack-jawed as Wolf swiveled his head to look at the man behind him, then at the Amazon melting before his eyes.

  Jake stepped back and raised his weapon, holding it palm out. With exaggerated care, he laid it on the floor and sent it skittering under a small desk chair. Caitlin waved toward the reading lamp by the recliner. He moved, slow and deliberate, toward the lamp and clicked it on. Pale yellow light flooded the room. Jake moved back into position behind Wolf. He patted a pocket on his shirt and waited for her nod. After extracting the key, he released the giant's wrists and backed away quickly, arms raised.

  Still unable to fully accept her father being in the cabin, she watched warily as he angled to the side of the couch nearest the kitchen. When he'd put sufficient distance between them he paused and stared with interest as she moved with hesitant steps toward Wolf sitting coiled like a viper, ready to strike.

  She smiled as Wolf's eyes widened in recognition of the shift, followed by a slow uptick to his mouth as her shorts slid down her thighs. The Amazon template dissolved, leaving her reed thin frame covered only with a threadbare corduroy shirt hanging mid-thigh.

  Jake murmured, "That's my girl," as she stepped out of the shorts bunched at her ankles and kicked them away. She circled the couch to stand clear of all obstructions, the gun still trained at a spot in-between her split targets. She prayed neither man doubted her ability to take them both down in a nanosecond.

  "It's me, girl. If you feel the need to shoot something, do him. Don't matter one way or t'other to me."

  Caitlin grimaced, reluctant to put the weapon away. Hundreds of questions swirled in her head. The gun seemed a small comfort while she worked through the possibilities.

  "Are you alone?"

  "Yes."

  "How did you find us?"

  "Darlin', please put the gun down. I could use something to eat and a cup of coffee if you've got anything. Been driving all night in some of the worst weather I've ever seen. You know I ain't so good on slick roads."

  Caitlin's eyes glazed over. Such a simple reveal. It was all she needed. She set the weapon on the recliner's cushion and walked over to Wolf who sat staring with hungry eyes, his lust and longing barreling along the tether, out of control. She brushed her lips across his brow in a tender gesture, unprepared for the violent lunge that staggered her back a step. He wrapped her in his arms, plundering her mouth, desperate to taste, to own. Her warrior murmured something in a strange language as the link screamed urgency with a powerful electrical surge.

  "Ahem, I think the term is 'get a room'. I'll go find something in the kitchen while you two work it out."

  Caitlin pushed away from Wolf and cried out, "Oh, Dad!" She rushed into her father's arms and collapsed in tears as her lover and her father glared at each other across the room.

  ****

  Jake released the footrest knob and settled into the seat. He reached over and took a sip of coffee. He couldn't quite read their expressions—a mixture of grief and distaste. He decided he needn't know particulars at that point. Caty and he would talk privately, if her guard dog ever left her side. The young man hadn't taken his eyes off her for a minute. There was something between them, out of the normal, intense and explosive. He might be her father, but he knew better than to come between them.

  He continued with his story. "So when I, we, were told about you being dead, I decided to go after Kieran myself. Gunnarr's no fool. He knows what I want. He also knows he can string me along, use me up, and then maybe hand my boy over after it's too late." Jake debated saying anything about Trey. He'd heard rumors about what went down when they'd been lost in that hell-hole. He had no idea what Caty's feeling might be on the subject so he figured it best to err on the side of caution and not mention names until he had her alone. "So I got me a bit of help, friend of Kier's who didn't like the situation either."

  He took another sip, buying time. "I'm not so young anymore so Gunnarr set me up in the control room, running point with his techs. We sent a team through a Portal, doing a cargo drop. The op went south, big time. We lost men. Good men. Found out some stuff I'd rather not know. Knutr'd set himself up with the Russian mob running guns and more." He looked at Wolf closely. "I expect you know something about that."

  Wolf nodded. "Mafiya. We heard it was tactical nukes. Unconfirmed. Probably not the first time."

  Jake spat, "Well, confirm it. We blew that shit after getting Kieran." He put aside the fact they'd left a man behind, something he'd never done in the service. But they'd had little choice given the circumstances. With a mental shrug, he went on, "Portal's gone. It was a close call."

  Caitlin sat quietly, her face blank. Jake had a feeling she knew who her brother's new friend might be, and she was doing her best to process that information. He shifted in his seat and reached for the cooling mug of coffee, buying time while he assessed her reaction. It wouldn't sit well that the man she now considered an enemy had insinuated himself into her family. As her father, he'd always had her trust, even when he was ass deep in alligators himself. How far would that trust extend with so many demands on her heart?

  Finally Caitlin broke the awkward silence with a single word, "Trey."

  Wolf spun to look at her curiously. Jake merely winced and tilted his head against the seat back.

  With a hitch in her voice she pleaded, "Tell me."

  "Yeah, it was Trey." Concentrating on Caitlin, he leaned forward and hastened to explain, "He thinks you're dead. Like I said, we all did." There was a flash of understanding in her eyes and her body tensed, waiting.

  Jake chugged the last of the coffee. He was fairly sure the man on his left would not take kindly to what he had to say next. "He's been insane since he got back. He and Kieran. They started doing the hard stuff, together." Jake gathered his thoughts. "It would've happened anyway. Trey kept a lid on it, controlled it as best he could. Went on missions with him and protected him. But Kieran went off the deep end after the last fuck up. Trey found him, called me and we got him committed."

  Caitlin choked out, "So is he getting clean?" To Wolf she demanded, "Did you know about this?"

  Jake waved to the big man to answer first.

  "Not much. A little. Eirik kept it close to the vest. I didn't know yo
ur brother was involved. I swear."

  Jake asked, "About Eirik. Where is he? He's the reason I'm here. Or were my sources wrong?"

  Wolf said, "He's dead."

  "Dead? How?"

  "You aren't the only ones dealing with the Mafiya. They executed Eirik and nearly killed Caitlin."

  Jake looked over at his daughter. She nodded yes, her eyes brimming with tears.

  "So that accounts for the body in the walkway and the guy behind the woodshed. Your work, boy?"

  Wolf ignored his question. "We need to get out of here. The two teams would have checked in by now. With the roads cleared, we can expect company very soon. We should have gone earlier but..."

  "There's no rush. Or were you two so busy you didn't listen to the weather forecast?" Caitlin blushed while the big man scowled at him. "Another storm system moving in. We'll be here a spell. It's an ice storm this time. Ain't nobody going nowhere for a while."

  Caitlin got up and went to the door and peered past the edge of the sheer curtain. Flicking on the porch light, she glanced right and left, then spoke to the men, "Looks like freezing rain. Everything's glazed."

  "Maybe you want some help, son?"

  "Yeah, thanks."

  Caitlin asked, "What are you two talking about?"

  Jake answered, his voice brooking no argument, "Go upstairs and rest, Caty girl." He lifted an eyebrow at his daughter's grimace and flicked a glance at her lover. Wolf rose and walked out through the kitchen. The back door slammed shut.

  "Dad?"

  "Not now. There'll be time later. Go on to bed. It's for the best."

  He watched his daughter trudge up the stairs, much as she had done as a child, full of reluctance to leave the man she loved most. He knew this time it wasn't him she regretted leaving. He'd have to come to terms with her being grown up, with a woman's needs and passions. He'd always be her dad but she belonged to another now. The question was, which one? He feared for her heart and her soul, both destined to be split down the middle. The man called Liuthr, the Wolf, laid claim to her for now. But once he knew she lived, the Falcon would be on the hunt.