On a Black Horse: An Apocalyptic Paranormal Romance (Revelations Book 3)

by Monica Corwin

  “Are you a genie?”

  Her gaze shot to him his and for a moment he could swear something shifted within him under that glare. “Who the hell are you?”

  Baldir would bring home an American. “I could ask you the same question since you’re standing in my house.”

  She threw up her hands. “I don’t want to be in your house. I was kidnapped.”

  They both looked to Baldir who wore a sheepish grin and a pink flush. With an exaggerated sigh, Baldir stood so he could see them both at the same time.

  “Ok, look.” He faced the woman. “If I had asked you to come here, you would have refused. I know it.” Then he turned to Arwan. “And you would have been your surly self about the whole thing and died out of spite, instead of letting me get help.”

  Arwan glared at him. He’d been called surly, pig-headed, and any other synonym of stubborn over the years, and they all catalogued him correctly. He took a deep breath and glanced back at the woman. “Fine, again I ask, who are you?”

  She crossed her arms under her breasts. He couldn’t help but notice the full weight of them propped up by her forearms. He must be dying if a woman’s breasts could distract him from the pain. A last reprieve before succumbing. “My name is Arwan.”

  She huffed. “Katherine.”

  “So what are you, then?” He prompted further.

  Katherine shuffled from foot to foot, no longer glaring daggers at him. “I’m a barista.”

  Baldir interjected. “She owns a coffee shop. It’s in New York City, no less. She’s a little more than a barista. Not that her coffee making skills will apply in this situation.”

  “Why am I here?” Katherine asked, clutching herself tightly while attempting to give off more attitude than Arwan could tell she possessed. Some of her brown hair escaped its confines, casting a halo around her head in wavy curls. She looked young, too innocent, to be involved in their world. Well, maybe thirty to his almost forty appearance. Which he accepted gratefully compared to his real age.

  “No.” Arwan pushed himself off the bed with effort. His forehead sprouted a fine sheen of sweat by the time he reached his full height. She barely stood as tall as his chin, but at 6’4 he towered over most people. “She is too innocent for this. I won’t corrupt another poor soul to save myself.”

  He tried to move toward her, but caught the chair the wrong way and went down. Her arms were around him before he hit the floor, and she lay him gently on the scuffed and aged hardwood.

  “You’re hurt,” she said, softly, still holding him.

  The heat of her body sunk into him reaching those dark places long chilled by the absence of others. She smelled of chocolate and coffee beans. A heady scent comforting him before he even realized he craved it.

  “What are you?” he asked again, reaching up to push a stray curl from in front of her eyes. Brown, a lovely deep dark brown, like the worn leather of an old book.

  “I told you.”

  “No, you are more than that. I feel…” he cut himself off before he revealed more of himself than he usually shared with strangers. Even particularly lovely strangers. He swallowed the last bit of pride he had left before asking, “Can you help me up please?”

  As gently as possible she lifted him up to his feet, and with the help of Baldir they both put him back in bed. The second he snuggled under the covers she grabbed Baldir’s arm and led him to the corner. Arwan couldn’t hear a single word they said, but it was obvious they knew each other by the way she clutched his arm. Most people were awed by his divine countenance and charismatic demeanor. So much so, they usually avoided him. In the years of their friendship Arwan witnessed it countless times.

  A few moments passed and Arwan dozed in between opening his eyes and focusing on the pair. They returned to the bedside and he glanced up at them. The pain of standing and then falling suffused him, and he could barely speak through it.

  Baldir reached out and tucked the blanket. “Listen. I had a vision. If you don’t recover the world will end.”

  That jerked Arwan from his drifting mind with a snap. “What do you mean, it will end?”

  He glanced toward Katherine who wore an equally stunned expression.

  Baldir shuffled back and forth in his heavy boots beating a cadence on the floor. “The vision was mangled and I don’t remember the whole dream. I just know that if Arwan dies the world will end and it will be terrible.”

  Something passed between Katherine and Baldir. An understanding Arwan couldn’t grasp, or was too pain addled to comprehend.

  “Well, I suppose I wouldn’t mind continuing to live,” Arwan offered.

  Baldir chuckled and smoothed back the hair from Arwan’s forehead. “If I have a say about it, you will.”

  “Where do I play into all this?” Katherine interjected. “Why don’t you just take care of him?”

  They both laughed softly before Baldir spoke. “I’m not the nurturing type.”

  “And what? Is that all I am to you guys? The mother meant to take care of everyone. I have a life you know, a business, a home. You’re all adults. You can take care of yourselves.”

  She looked as if she had more to say but instead of shouting it she turned and marched out, the door slamming behind her.

  Baldir made sure to check the covers again before going after her.

  A few moments later they both entered again and Arwan popped one eye open to watch them. He caught the words “prophecy” and “horseman” before sleep pulled him under for good.

  Chapter 3

  Katherine checked on her new patient. His even breathing continued for some time so she took the chair closest to the fire and Baldir stood leaning against the mantle. She wanted to smack him, but instead demanded answers. “Now, tell me who he is.”

  “If you knew, you won’t help him.”

  She snorted. “So holding me hostage until I find out does what?”

  Baldir shrugged. “Alright, I admit, my planning sucked. I was desperate.”

  Yeah, desperate enough to kidnap a horseman. “Well, that started the moment you kidnapped me. Why not call?”

  “I tried. You wouldn't pick up your hotel room phone. I also knocked, but you didn’t answer. I saw you go down to dinner, so I figured you were avoiding me.” He stopped to drag in a long breath before relaunching into his excuse. “So I waited and then brought you here.”

  Katherine gestured toward Arwan. “Fine. But tell me who he is.”

  Baldir never asked them for anything. He’d contented himself with hanging around the horseman after his rescue from Hel, but that was the extent of his interaction.

  “He’s my friend, and he offered the only kindness I found while trapped within Hel’s dungeon.”

  She gasped. “He was there?”

  With an exaggerated sigh, Baldir sunk into the chair opposite Katherine. The floral fabric faded to gray matching the one she sat in. No longer obscured by the fire's glow his face appeared genuinely remorseful, and then he spoke. “Arwan is a hellhound.”

  Katherine surged to her feet putting distance between her and Baldir, as well as it. “Are you freaking kidding me?” Of all the times to drop an F-bomb the current situation qualified, but the curse stuck on her tongue, despite the rage building in her chest. “What is wrong with you? Why would you ever think I’d help save someone like him?”

  “Because he’s a good person, and he turned hellhound the same way as Victor.” Katherine clenched her eyes shut in an attempt to calm the quake in her stomach. Victor changed due to the machinations of a Fairy King. Somehow, she doubted Arwan and Victor's situations paralleled. How many Fairy Kings were out there snatching men to turn into hellhounds?

  “So what, my choice is to help him… even if he probably helped bring down Tyr, or if he would have killed Bianca? Oh, my God." The pieces clicked together in her mind. "That’s why he’s hurt isn’t it, from Bianca and Hel's fight in the underworld.” She hadn’t witnessed the fight but got the complete play-by-pla
y from Cloris after Bianca contacted her.

  Baldir hung his head. “Yes, but he wouldn’t kill anyone unless they harmed him first. Apart from you, he is one of the gentlest souls alive.”

  Katherine scowled at him and crossed her arms under her chest trying to hug herself into calm. This wasn’t fair. She agreed to help before acquiring the full details. Baldir should have divulged Arwan's identity from the start. If she saved him, in the future he might be pitted against her. Or, worse, her friends.

  “Why is he important to you?”

  Baldir held his arms open as if baring himself to her. “He was kind, and he helped keep me from Hel’s wandering eye. And when that didn't work, he cleaned me up afterward.”

  Katherine didn’t want to ask, she knew far too much about Hel’s proclivities already, but she had to. “What did she do to you?”

  The curve of his jaw tightened, causing the veins in his forehead to pop out. Katherine almost took back the careless question, but he answered before she could.

  “That is not something I will discuss. Her death was not justice enough for her deeds.”

  Katherine swallowed the emotion clogging her throat. From Hades, the former ruler of the Underworld, she gleaned Hel’s cruelness, not that he ever spoke about his ordeals in detail, but Katherine understood he suffered abuse in every way possible. Sympathy for Baldir didn’t even begin to cover how she felt for these men in her life. Baldir was her friend, but the monster laying in the bed five feet away deserved his fate. The violence in her mind shocked her to the core. No, this wasn’t her. She didn’t kill people, and she didn’t harm them when they were injured and down.

  Katherine plopped back into the armchair and stared at the fire. The heat of it licked at her sneakers warming her toes encased in socks within. She had no pressing engagements, no life to return to, despite her earlier protestations. Casting her glance up she met Baldir’s puppy dog eyes and felt herself give in before she even spoke it aloud. “Fine. I’ll help you. Under one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “You will call and tell the others about the prophecy. They should know, too.”

  Baldir squinted and frowned heavily. A strange look on his usual smiling face. “Deal.”

  “I’m going to need a few things,” Katherine added.

  “Like what?”

  “Well, probably some painkillers and antibiotics. Plus bandages, food, clean water, and sugar.”

  Baldir nodded, immediately stood, and marched to the door. A man on a mission. With a hand on the knob he stopped, and whispered. “Don’t kill my friend.”

  She rolled her eyes, he was the one spouting on about her virtues “I won’t hurt him. Go. And hurry back. The faster he heals, the quicker I can leave.”

  Stuck in a random cabin, in what she hoped was Wales, with an injured hellhound Katherine figured her life veered far off course by this point. She sank in the chair and watched the dancing flames. There were worse situations. Death came to mind... or marriage.

  Arwan shifted on the bed with a groan and she launched herself up to check on him. Laying her head on his chest as softly as she could she caught the rhythm of his breath and heart, air left his lungs uneven and choppy, and the shallow pulse didn’t bode well, either. He might die in Baldir's absence. If he did, she hoped he wouldn’t blame her. It would fall in line with her current luck.

  A look around the cabin proved the man liked books more than furniture, and perhaps food. She located a small kitchenette in the corner, and wet a rag with some water before returning to him. As if sensing her presence, he shifted away, but she pushed him back with a careful hand and pressed the cool cloth to his forehead. She didn’t know if it would help, but his skin burned hot, and lowering his temperature was important.

  He groaned again, and the sound cut into her. Bearing witness to the suffering she might be forced to inflict spurred her on. Peeling back the covers she patted along the skin of his neck above the black collar of his shirt. Hot to the touch she lifted the cotton at his hips and noted the wound on his torso. The sight turned her stomach, and she was glad she hadn’t eaten a lot the past day. The wound looked as if something large with big teeth bit into him. What if he had punctured organs? Did hellhounds heal faster than humans? She tried to recall any interaction she’d had with them before Hel, but no, nothing.

  She inspected the edges of the mangled bandages. Whoever patched him up did a terrible job. She tugged gently at the twisted tape before peeling it away. Yep, she would get tasked with saving the hellhound who would die of infection. How did Baldir not realize the level of infection present?

  She pulled the bandage off completely and tossed it in a nearby wastebasket. With a quick poke around, she found a bathroom tucked away a few feet from the end of his bed. Transporting him to the bathtub would be the challenge. His height and proportions told her he weighed more than she did. And Arwan couldn’t handle an over-the-shoulder carry, even if she could shift his weight up. The only option was to wake him and help him walk. She turned the chrome knob indicating cold, adjusted it to cool, and plunged the rubber stopper in the drain. Returning to his side she gave him a soft shake. “Arwan, I need you to wake up.”

  He groaned but didn’t move.

  “Arwan.”

  This time his eyes popped open, and he flinched away from her. She met those sea glass eyes and tried to elicit calm. “It’s okay. I won't hurt you, but we have to get you into the tub. I can’t lift you alone. You’ll have to help me.”

  He gave her a tiny nod, and she pressed her hand underneath him between the damp sheets and his equally wet T-shirt. “Ok, now sit.”

  With her arm around him they sat him upright.

  “Let's try standing. Lean all your weight on me.”

  “I’ll crush you if I do that.”

  She absently noted his accent. Upon arriving and arguing over her staying she hadn’t caught the harsh Welsh baroque.

  “I’m stronger than I look. Come on.”

  They stood together, and he sank onto her with his arm around her shoulders. Definitely heavier than he looked.

  “We'll get you into the tub then undress you. It will be easier than trying to do it first.”

  He nodded, and they shuffled toward the bathroom. Working as one, they managed the task with some grunts and grumbles. The water already high enough to cover his legs, so she reached in and grasped the waistband of his pants. “I need you to lift your hips so we can take these off.”

  He did as she asked with no response, and she looked away to allow him privacy as she peeled the wet fabric down his bare skin and off his feet. The shirt was easier, and she placed the sopping clothes in the sink to figure out later.

  “How does that feel?” She eyed him for any signs of discomfort.

  “It feels wonderful, Love.”

  The epithet struck her, but she allowed it considering the man hovered on the edge of death. “Well, you stay there for a second I’m going to find something for you to drink. We have to bring your temperature down.”

  He leaned his head against the porcelain, unconcerned with his nudity and Katherine continued to keep her eyes averted. The kitchen was sparse, but it made sense if he lived alone. As the tap filled an empty glass she hunted around for aspirin, or at least something to give him. With zero tolerance for pain, she would have succumbed to such a ghastly wound immediately. After an exhaustive search that resulted in nothing, she brought Arwan the water, and hoped Baldir acquired supplies quickly.

  He opened his eyes, and they appeared a little clearer. She offered the glass and held it as he sipped. Being the Horseman of Famine never truly sank in for her. She would be the one to monitor and distribute the world’s suffering in hunger and starvation. It killed her to imagine it every time she closed her eyes. Locking onto that image she peeled away some of her hostility toward the beast in her arms. Instead, she fixed her mind on the idea of him representing another life saved for the ones she might be forced to take
later. It was the only way she could help him without feeling like she’d betrayed her friends.

  “Thank you,” he managed.

  Something like sympathy threatened to engulf her, so she put the water away and brushed her pants off to go. “I’ll leave you alone until Baldir returns. You need antibiotics and fresh dressings like a week ago.”

  “Wait.” He held his hand out, as if he would grab her.

  She stopped suspended in the doorframe.

  “Come back, please.”

  As vehement as she felt about helping him, likely when he learned her identity he would be equally upset. She didn’t want to make it harder for him, but she turned and took a stool near the tub because he asked it of her. As she waited, she considered the situation. Stuck in a cabin, helping a dying hellhound, trying to keep a prophecy from coming true. Was stopping it even possible? She’d witnessed Bianca’s visions but dream prophecies were different. Like various flavors of ice cream.

  “You never told me what you are,” he said, his voice rough.

  Guilt cut into her but she couldn’t tell him, not while he fought to live. “I’m a barista.”

  “And what? Friends of Baldir aren't exactly normal.”

  She crossed her legs in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “Oh, why is that? Maybe he really likes coffee.”

  He tried to laugh, but it came out as a cough, and she gave him some more water. “Stop talking. You need to rest.”

  “What’s the point? I’m dying anyway. What will happen? I can't go back to the Underworld. I won’t be under her control again.”

  Katherine assumed the “her” in question was Hel. Hades usurper and the former tyrannical ruler downstairs before Bianca and The Wild Hunt killed her.

  “Hel is dead.”

  Arwan swung around so fast in the bathtub that water swirled and splashed out. With a voice pitched low and gravely. “How do you know that?”