A sudden yelp of pain followed by several shallow gasps for breath snapped her attention back to the bed. She tried closing her eyes and using her Fahndi magic to see beyond the surface of Brenn’s skin. Dark shadows roiled there, like oily smoke cast by burning pitch. The noxious screen blocked out the goodness she knew lay deep within him.
“That leaves me one choice,” Seren murmured, her heart leaping into her throat as Brenn groaned in horror once more.
Taking a deep breath through her nose, Seren called upon her healing glamour to rise. She felt it rushing forth like an incoming tide, warm and giddy and eager to heal the hurt it sensed nearby.
As she approached Brenn, Seren outstretched her arm, her glamour gathering and making her hand glow like a brilliant lantern. Aiming for Brenn’s heart, Seren changed her mind at the last moment, pressing her palm to his forehead instead. Whatever demons he battled were locked away there, in his mind, not in his heart. Immediately, he gasped and arched up from the bed. In that same moment, Seren’s magic rushed forward as the darkness haunting Brennon flooded her own mind. Bleak, blood-soaked plains ... dark figures ... inhuman screams of agony and terror ... gore-stained Cumorrig ... the metallic scent of blood and rancid smoke ... rotting flesh and the stench of stagnant swamps ... armies of faelah and bone-thin men and women dressed in tattered, filthy clothing marching under a leaden sky ...
Seren sucked in a breath of shock and let it out with a half-strangled scream. Instinct told her to tear her hand away, to disconnect herself from such a source of horror, but she stubbornly fought the terrified doe trying to wrench control of her spirit.
No! she sent a mental command. We must help him. I am also a Fahndi healer, and it is my duty to aid those in need!
The stream of evil and terror continued to wash over her, making her stomach turn with nausea and her skin shiver as if coated with ice. Oh, it was so cold. But she refused to break contact with Brenn. If she did so, her healing glamour would pull back with her. Oh, gods. This was so utterly terrible. Had Brennon experienced all these things first hand? Had he been present to witness these memories, or was this some other demon plaguing him with its own foul thoughts? Seren swallowed hard and tried to focus her magic more directly, sending the golden light swirling around the nightmarish scenes. In her mind’s eye, she watched as sparks of her own glamour broke free from her core to chase after the dark figures moving erratically amongst the shadows of Brenn’s nightmarish cage. Each time a spark of her glamour contacted one of these insubstantial demons, the specter screeched and dissipated, leaving dark, wispy clouds behind. Seren employed this method over and over again, grinding her teeth against the mental toll it took. She moved closer to the bed, placing her other hand on Brenn’s heart, hoping she might be able to ease him with just her presence. The action seemed to work.
Beneath her touch, Brenn’s struggling continued, but not as fiercely as before. His hoarse screams died down to soft moans, and he no longer lashed out. Instead, his body tensed against the onslaught, the way a person tenses when waiting for a familiar ache to pass. Relief washed over Seren, but she knew better than to celebrate too early. A gray tinge still plagued Brenn’s aura, and she could feel herself growing weaker. Her nerves were wrung out, and a tremor passed through her arms and legs. She wouldn’t be able to hold up much longer. Something tickled her chin, and Seren was surprised to find tears streaming down her face. She had been so focused on infusing Brennon with her magic, she hadn’t noticed her own sorrow at his suffering.
After several agonizing minutes, she came up from her internal inspection and listened. Brenn’s breathing had returned to normal, and he no longer tensed against his dreams. Seren turned her sight inward. The black cloud of evil had dissipated, leaving only a haze of color. Brenn’s own glamour, she decided, calm and quiet and too tired to fight anymore. But it didn’t need to fight. Her own healing power had banished his nightmares. A wave of relief coursed over her, and she collapsed onto the bed, almost falling on top of Brenn. For several moments, Seren simply breathed. The air no longer smelled of fear or decay, but of clean sweat and fresh linens touched with a hint of lavender.
She should push herself up and return to her own room. If Brennon woke up with her in his bed, she didn’t think she would survive the embarrassment. Especially since he had on only a pair of loose sleeping pants.
Seren tried to rise from her prone position, but dizziness and bone-deep exhaustion wouldn’t let her. With one last effort, she pushed with her hands, only to collapse again and fall into a deep, dark void.
Chapter Sixteen
Complacency
Rori listened intently at the door, his ear pressed against the worn wood. Neither his uncle nor Seren had made a sound for at least a half an hour. Were they alright? Had Seren hurt herself again, the way she had done when helping Ruan? Fear and sorrow clutched at Rori’s heart. Taking a deep breath, he prayed to the Celtic gods his uncle would forgive him, if he was still alive, for what he was about to do. He was going to break his promise and enter Brennon’s room.
Calling upon his courage, Rori reached up, feeling for the door latch. When his fingers slid over the familiar smooth, cool metal, he grasped the handle and pulled it down. The door didn’t creak as it slid open, and his sightless eyes were met with a blanket of darkness. Rori swiveled his head, deciding the lamp he brought for Seren had gone out, and the fire had burned down as well.
Rori put out a hand, entering the strangely silent room and felt his way toward the hearth. His outstretched fingers told him there were a few coals still warm in the fireplace, so he felt his way to the pile of wood nearby, adding a few logs. The telltale sound of crackling wood, the sharp tinge of fresh smoke and the sudden brightening of the darkness told him the fire was growing. Rori then turned to face the bed, at least, to face where he thought it was located. Carefully, he made his way in that direction, bumping his shins against the chest Brennon kept at the foot of the bed.
Once again, Rori reached out his hands, his fingertips finding the carved and polished wood of one of the four posts. He felt his way up farther, fingers trailing over the mattress and crumpled sheets until he touched a new fabric that was different from the others. Recognition sparked. He would know this material anywhere. It was the nightshirt his mother used to wear. Soft and delicate and clean. The same nightshirt Seren now slept in. Rori’s mouth tightened, not because he was angry at Seren for donning his mother’s old clothes, but because he was afraid he might find the Fahndi woman cold and lifeless, the way she had been after the attack on the chicken coop. Squashing his fear, Rori continued the search with his fingers and breathed a sigh of relief when they met up with warm skin. Seren was alive.
Rori took a few moments longer to examine the scene with his touch, discovering Seren was deep in sleep on the bed with his uncle. Furrowing his brow, Rori climbed atop the bed, his hands running along Seren’s face, then her shoulder. He stopped when his fingers encountered an arm that didn’t belong to her. Strong, warm and large. Uncle Brenn. He, too, was fast asleep. Rori nearly collapsed then, his eyes streaming tears when he realized they were both alive and well. And from what he could tell, his uncle had Seren wrapped in his embrace, an aura of contentment and security pouring from both of them.
Rori knew he should retreat to his own room, now that he’d found out both his uncle and Seren were safe, but he wanted so badly to share in their quiet, secret happiness. Making a decision he knew would get him in trouble in the morning, Rori snuggled up between them. He sighed when his uncle’s arm lowered just enough to rest gently over his neck, and when Seren’s hand came to rest at his hip.
Overcome by bliss and an overwhelming sense of safety, Rori gave a jaw-cracking yawn and murmured, just before he drifted off to sleep, “I love you, Uncle. I love you, Seren.”
***
Winter descended upon Ardun like a barn owl gliding through the night, its ghostly wings spread wide as it silently soared over the barren fields. The eve
ning Brennon suffered his haunting nightmares, the grey sky opened up and dropped a heavy layer of snow, cloaking the earth in a blanket of white, thick enough to muffle the world from all sound.
Inside Roarke Manor, however, things were not as quiet as the outside world. Just before dawn, Brenn stirred in his sleep, drawing in deep breaths as his eyes fluttered open to a semi-dark room. Before moving to get up, he found himself furrowing his brow. Something was different about this morning. He had gone to bed agitated, the ghosts of his past rearing up and taunting him. He’d had his nightmares, he was sure of it. The dry, burning sensation in his throat was proof he had screamed half the night away, and his pounding head was further evidence he hadn’t rested all that well. But, he could only recall a few of the terrible scenes from his dreams. Despite his pains, his heartbeat was steady upon waking, and his skin wasn’t damp with the cold sweat he had come to expect after a night spent fighting off invisible foes.
Confused, Brenn made to get out of bed, but something stopped him short. His right arm was pinned beneath some unknown weight, his left draped over something soft and warm. Brennon tried to angle his head to see what was holding him in place, one of the wolfhounds, most likely, but his chin was obstructed by something solid. Whatever it was tickled him, the hair too fine and silky to belong to one of the dogs. Instantly, icy dread pooled in the pit of his stomach. Had Rori, against his wishes, entered his room last night?
A sudden flash of anger coursed through him. He could have hurt the boy with his thrashing. Had he not stressed this enough to his nephew?
Before he could sit up and wake Rori to chastise him, the boy squirmed against his stomach. A soft sigh met Brenn’s ears and Rori struggled to sit up. It was in that moment, Brenn realized Rori wasn’t the only person in bed with him. His nostrils flared, finally taking in a familiar scent of clean forest rain, sweet lavender and fresh pine needles. The color drained from his face when he inched back and caught sight of Seren’s earth brown hair. Oh, gods. What had happened last night?
“Uncle Brenn?” Rori murmured in a sleep-tainted voice.
Brennon, still somewhat obstructed by Seren’s head tucked beneath his chin, managed to angle a glance up at his nephew. Rori’s hair was disheveled, and his eyes were heavy with sleep. He yawned widely and rubbed at one eye, the other one pointed toward the bed’s headboard.
“Uncle Brennon? Are you awake?”
Brenn shifted, careful not to wake the sleeping Seren, and worked his right arm out from under her. She took a deep breath and sighed, rolling over onto her back. To Brenn’s relief, she did not waken. The sight of her looking so unguarded sent heat racing through his blood. When she was awake, Seren was always so careful to keep her emotions off her face. But now, with the first light of dawn streaming through the window, it was easy to see she was just as vulnerable as he was.
Stricken by a sudden urge to touch her, Brenn pushed himself up with his right arm and carefully ran his other hand over the top of her head and down the side of her face, reveling in an act he had so seldom taken part in since the day he’d been torn from his family. His fingertips tingled at the silkiness of her hair and the smooth surface of her skin. So different from his work-roughened hands and hard angles. Seren’s breathing was deep and even, and as he studied her, he wondered what had driven her to enter his room and climb into his bed.
“Uncle?”
The sound of Rori’s tentative voice jerked him back to the present. He removed his hand and pressed his lips together. He would have to ponder Seren’s motives later. Right now, he needed to get out of bed and interrogate his nephew about the activities of the night before.
“I’m up, Rori,” he answered, his voice ragged and sore from a night spent screaming at his demons. “But Seren is still asleep, and I think we should let her sleep some time more.”
Rori nodded vigorously, his pale blue eyes wide. Brennon helped Rori from the bed and ordered him to go put on his day clothes. When he was gone, Brenn cast one more look at Seren to make sure she was asleep before donning his own clothing. Ten minutes later, he was sneaking away from his bedchamber after adding another few logs to the fire. He shut the door silently behind him and turned to find Rori waiting at the top of the stairs. Heaving a wearied sigh, Brenn approached him, the floorboard creaking as he bent to sit next to his nephew.
“What happened last night, Rori?”
The blind boy tilted his head toward the great room below, his shoulders slumping a little. He tugged at a loose thread in his tunic and bit his bottom lip. Brennon, knowing the boy needed patience from him above anything else, waited.
“You, you were having one of your nightmares,” he said with a rasp, as if he’d been the one screeching like a terrified cat all night.
“Yes, but how did you and Seren end up in my room? In my bed.”
Rori whipped his head around, his eyes filling with tears. As usual, he focused on nothing in particular, but his facial expression was intent. Clearly, the boy was still rattled.
“I was staying outside your door, honest!” he insisted.
Brenn lifted a hand and placed it on Rori’s shoulder. The boy jumped.
“I believe you, Rori. But how did you go from sitting outside my door to sleeping in the bed?”
“Seren came out of her room. She heard–”
Rori didn’t finish, but then, he didn’t have to. Brenn lifted his hands to rub his face. So, she had heard his torment. Not much of a surprise considering she had entered his room. He had hoped to hide this part of him from her, as futile as that hope had been. But once again, his demons, egged on by that accursed faeduhn magic, had come calling in the night, and it had once again affected everyone in the house.
“She told me she thought she could help you,” Rori said, in a choked voice. “I hoped she could because she helped Ruan. She went into your room and, for a while, nothing seemed to change. Then, the yelling stopped, and everything was still and quiet. I had to check to make sure you were okay, you and Seren. Please don’t be mad at me, Uncle.”
Brenn removed his hands from his face and stared straight ahead into the rafters of the tall ceiling of Ardun. So that explained why, despite his weariness, his mind and nerves seemed calm now. Even though his throat was raw and dry and his muscles sore, the darkness didn’t haunt him so terribly this morning. After every single episode of night terrors, he had always woken weak and ragged, his mind racing and struggling against the memories of his past, as if they’d happened the day before. That daylight torment was not present now. It was as if he’d been visited by normal, disturbing dreams, dreams which had faded as his mind returned to consciousness. And Seren had done this wondrous deed, had somehow wrought this miracle. He had no idea how she’d done it, but at the moment, he didn’t care.
Brenn was exceedingly tempted to rush back into his room and scoop her up into his arms and share his gratitude, but he remembered the promise he made to himself to remain distant. No. He would have to thank her in some other way.
Deciding to let Seren be for now, Brenn placed his hands on his knees and glanced down at Rori. His nephew still resembled a young puppy who had let his master down. This brought a smile to Brenn’s face.
“What say you we go downstairs and fix a nice breakfast for Seren?”
Rori turned his huge, sightless eyes onto his uncle once more.
“Aren’t you mad?” he wondered aloud.
Brenn considered it for a moment. “No, I’m not. You know why I made the rule that you stay out of my room when I have my nightmares, right?”
Rori nodded. “Because you might hurt me by accident.”
“Correct. But I think in this case, the situation is different. You wanted to make sure Seren hadn’t been injured.”
“Or you,” Rori pointed out.
Brenn draped an arm around the boy’s shoulders. Normally, he would be angry, but the simple fact that he felt well and rested after last night’s ordeal put him in a good mood.
&
nbsp; “Or me. And upon finding us both safe and sound, you couldn’t resist staying with us.”
Rori gave a toothsome smile and wrapped both his arms around Brenn’s middle. “I wouldn’t have been able to sleep by myself after all that.”
Brenn kissed the top of Rori’s head and rested his cheek against the boy’s hair. “I could imagine not.”
The two of them sat there for several minutes more, content in one another’s company. The grey light streaming in through the windows didn’t grow much brighter, and the dust motes falling from the ceiling floated lazily in the air. Downstairs, Nola let out a discontented meow, and Brennon could hear some of the hounds stirring, wanting out so they could chase rabbits through the newly fallen snow they spied through the window.
Eventually, the two rose. Brenn got a fire going in the large fireplace, and Rori let the dogs out, joining them for a few minutes before returning to the warmth of the house. By mid-morning, they were busy preparing spiced oatmeal, hot tea, scrambled eggs and some bacon from the smokehouse, all the while laughing and joking as if the house hadn’t been visited by the Morrigan’s evil taint the night before.
***
Seren woke to the scent of frying bacon. Although she couldn’t eat such things, the smell of cooking meat always enticed her senses. She stretched out, enjoying the warmth of her sheets, her mind lost in a few moments of bliss before a sudden realization slammed into her. It was her task to cook breakfast for herself, Brenn and Rori. She shot up out of bed, her heart racing in her chest, then groaned as she felt her face lose most of its color. She wasn’t in her room. She wasn’t even in her own bed.
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