Viator (The Viator Chronicles Book 1)

by Ralston-Brooks, Jane

  Erin struggled to her feet and doubled forward, shaking, trying to protect the sliced skin across her stomach with her arms. She tried to catch her breath, and cold sweat dripped into her eyes. Michael rose from the ground. He was breathing hard and fast, and his dark eyes were filled with fury. He stepped toward her with his sword still tight in his hand. She backed away from him until she hit the wall. His eyes were black as he stared into her, blood splattered across his face and clothes, dripping from his arm. Fear pounded through her, and she stared back into his eyes, shivering and gasping. His sword clattered to the floor. He grabbed her arms, pulled her tight against him, and kissed her.

  She tasted salty blood from his mouth and felt his heart pounding as hard and fast as hers. His pine scent filled her, driving out the sick sweet stench of the shadows. She stopped shaking. When he finally pulled away, he picked his sword up off the floor, turned around, and strode to the door.

  “Damn it all to hell!” he yelled, and he threw his sword through the air. It hit the far wall and stuck. He ran out the door, down the stairs, and was gone.

  *****

  Erin opened her eyes to darkness. The moon had set, and no light shone through her window. She lay still, filled with grief, her body aching. All her pain blended together.

  Finally she rolled over to look at the clock on her nightstand and gasped as she moved. Her stomach. She eased her way out of bed, flipped on the light, and pulled up her shirt. A bright red wound stretched horizontally across her abdomen. She sucked in a breath, her eyes wide.

  “Mommy?” Gwen whispered as she opened the bedroom door and peeked inside. “Can I come in?”

  “Of course, come in,” Erin said. “What are you doing awake?”

  Gwen climbed into the bed, and Erin snuggled against her, wincing at the touch against her body. “I had a bad dream,” Gwen said.

  Erin caressed her daughter’s hair. “Tell me about it, honey.”

  “Matt and I were at the fair, and we were on the rides. I wanted to go on the Ferris wheel, and he didn’t want to, but he said if I went on the roller coaster, he would. So I went on the roller coaster, but I fell out. And I fell and fell, and then I woke up.” Gwen snuggled closer and rubbed her eyes.

  Erin was grateful it was such a simple dream. She kissed the top of Gwen’s head. “It was only a dream, sweetie. Everything’s all right. Let’s think of something happy to get your mind off of it.”

  “Okay,” Gwen said. “Julie’s getting a new kitten tomorrow. Can I go over and see it?”

  “Yes, of course.” Erin started to gently rub Gwen’s back, and Gwen was quiet for a few minutes.

  “Did you have a bad dream, too?” Gwen asked.

  Tears filled Erin’s eyes. “Yes, I did.”

  “Tell me.” Gwen’s eyes were closed, and Erin was sure she’d be asleep in a minute.

  “All right. I went into a big building and went upstairs. Michael Woodward was there, and we had an argument. Then some bad guys came and we fought them. We won, and then Michael left.”

  “Hmm. It’s good you won. Was he still mad at you?” Gwen asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s too bad. But it was only a dream. It’ll all be better in the morning,” Gwen said.

  “Yes, you’re right.”

  Gwen closed her eyes and was soon asleep. Erin watched her daughter breathe peacefully.

  She made sure Gwen was covered with the blankets and tried to sleep. But the fury in Michael’s eyes and the bloody taste of his mouth came back to her mind as soon as she closed her eyes. He had kissed her. And he was so furious with her that he had thrown his sword away. It made her sick to think of his anger. She wanted to sob.

  It was only a dream. She touched her stomach, feeling the stinging pain of the wound. This was more than just a dream.

  Gwen murmured in her sleep, and Erin stroked her hair. Could these dreams be real, as Michael had said? Memories of her other dreams began to flood back to her: The time Michael rescued her and carried her to the boat, when she first met him in his cabin and had held a knife to his throat, the feeling of his rough face against her cheek, dancing with him under the singing stars. Tears filled her eyes.

  She remembered following William at his death and the mortifer that had attacked her there. If only she had been able to bring William back. She had run away, and she had left him to his death. If she could find her way back, surely she could have helped him, too. She had utterly failed him.

  She imagined Michael’s face again: blood splattered, eyes black with anger. So much sorrow washed through her she could hardly bear it.

  More dreams came to her mind: rescuing Carolyn, helping Franny and Paul, and many more. She remembered Bruce in the stone tower, healing him with the golden liquid from her flask. She remembered the man who had soothed her on the riverbank after she had fled William and the mortifer: a small man, brown hair and eyes, and so very kind. She remembered how he had taken her hand and led her to a bright garden in the sunshine, with fountains and birds singing in blossoming trees. She realized now that it was Domus—he had brought her to Domus for the first time and taught her to fight the mortifers and how to care for the dreamers. Why had she never remembered this before?

  What about Gary?

  Could what Michael said be true? Gary waiting in ambush to kill him? She didn’t want that to be possible.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the dark ceiling. Gwen breathed softly beside her. In the morning, she would call Gary and tell him they needed to talk. She needed to find out the truth. And she would go see Michael.

  Chapter 46

  “Arthur here.”

  “Gary? It’s Erin,” she said into the phone. Matt and Gwen were at the kitchen table finishing their breakfast, and Erin was on her third cup of coffee already. Her thoughts had kept her awake the rest of the night.

  “Erin? Jeez, what time is it? I overslept. Shit. I’m late. I’m glad you called. I’ve got to go,” he said.

  “Wait,” she said. “I need to talk to you for a minute.”

  “What about?”

  “I need to see you soon. Today, if you can get away. I’ll come there.”

  “Hey, I’d love to see you today, but I can’t. I’ve got to catch a flight to New York at noon.”

  “I didn’t know you were going to New York.”

  “It was sudden.”

  “When do you come back?”

  “Friday. Friday afternoon. Why don’t I drive up straight from the airport, and we can have dinner?”

  “That sounds fine,” Erin said.

  They were both silent for a minute.

  “I’ve got to run,” Gary said.

  “Yes. Have a good trip.”

  “See you Friday.”

  Erin tossed out the rest of her coffee and sat down next to Matt. “I’ve got to run an errand in town, but I won’t be very long. We can do something fun when I get back, okay?”

  “Sure,” Matt said.

  “Okay, Mom,” Gwen said. “Let’s go see Julie’s kitten later.”

  Erin pulled on a denim jacket, grabbed her purse and went out the door. Cold dew still covered the grass, and fog swirled in wisps across the ground.

  She drove along the highway into town and debated about going to see Michael. Her midnight resolve had faded into doubt—doubt about the dreams and doubt about him, with more than a little fear of facing him again. But she needed to talk to him and decided not to turn back.

  She pulled to the curb and walked up the path to his porch. The flowers blooming in pots beside the door gave the house a friendly atmosphere, and Erin’s courage rose. She rang the doorbell and waited. Bruce opened the door.

  “Hi, Erin,” he said in obvious surprise. “Are you looking for Aleesha? You just missed her—she’s on her way to the gallery.”

  “No, I’m actually here to see Michael. Is he here?”

  “No.” He frowned. “I’m not sure where he is. He left sometime in the early morning,
and I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”

  “Oh.” Erin’s eyes searched the ground as this information sank in. “What did he say? You don’t know where he went?”

  “Come in and sit down,” Bruce said, opening the door wide.

  “Thanks. He left in the early morning?”

  Bruce led her to a couch and sat beside her.

  “He left me a note, so I think he left some time during the night. He didn’t wake us. Here it is.” Bruce retrieved the note from the side table and handed it to her.

  Bruce—Am going away to finish the book. Not sure when I’ll be back. When you go to Portland, would you ask Aleesha to water the plants? M.

  “It sounds like he plans to be gone a long time,” Erin said.

  “It’s hard to say. He knows I have to drive back to Portland for classes tomorrow,” Bruce said.

  “Do you know where he would go?”

  “No. He’s gone off to different places when he wants time to be alone to write, so there’s no way to know. But he’ll let his agent know soon. His agent usually knows where he is.”

  Erin felt like crumbling. “I really wanted to talk to him. What about his cell phone?”

  “I already tried to reach him on his cell, but it’s shut off.”

  She sighed. “If you get hold of him, would you tell him I stopped by?”

  “Sure.”

  “Would you ask him to call me?”

  “Of course.”

  Erin stood up and walked to the door while Bruce followed. She tried to hold them back, but a few tears ran down her face.

  “What happened? Was it a dream?” Bruce asked.

  “You know about the dreams?”

  “Was Michael hurt?

  Erin looked at the ground and brushed her tears away. Bruce knows, too. These are not ordinary dreams at all. “How do you know about these dreams?”

  “I thought Michael talked to you about them. You still don’t remember them?”

  “It seems crazy.”

  He shook his head. “Believe me, it’s not crazy. Those dreams are as real as you and I standing here right now. Was Michael hurt?”

  “We argued and he was angry. Then we had to fight five of them—five … mortifers. He was hurt but not badly.” She shook her head and frowned. “He threw his sword and left it there.”

  “He left his sword there?” Bruce grasped Erin’s arm. “Why?”

  Erin turned away, the knot in her stomach growing more painful. “He was furious with me.”

  “Oh. Well. I’ll go get his sword. Tell me where this happened.”

  “I don’t know where it was—on a deserted city street somewhere, on the second floor of a concrete building. How will you find it?”

  “I’ll focus on the sword. Well, now I understand why he left. I’ll try to find him as soon as I can and give him your message.”

  “Thanks,” she said. She went to her car and the sick feeling grew inside her.

  After driving home she took Matt to Jacob’s house, then spent the rest of the day with Gwen making cookies and visiting Julie’s new kitten. All day she hoped for a call from Bruce or Michael that didn’t come.

  That night she searched for Michael in her dreams, but instead she lost her way traveling through a murky forest. She felt the cold dread of a mortifer following behind, but it never came close enough for her to see. She woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed, sweat dripping from her face.

  *****

  Bruce crept through the dark city street, avoiding the occasional glow of a streetlight overhead as he passed shattered windows in crumbling empty buildings. He studied each building he passed, pausing at every doorway to sense the right direction.

  When he reached a two-story concrete block building, the skin on his scalp prickled and his stomach lurched. He knew at last he’d found it. But how many mortifers lay in wait?

  Without a sound, he pulled his sword from its sheath, yanked the door open, and slipped inside. Icy air hit him, knocking his breath away. He crept forward heading for the stairs, and a sickening stench grew as he approached.

  A black shadow grew in the hall beyond the stairway—a mortifer. Bruce rushed it, slashed straight across its torso with his sword in both hands, and it blew apart. Another one was behind the first, ready for him. It swung its blade over Bruce’s head, brought it down hard. Bruce lunged to the side and forced his sword up, but the mortifer twirled around and the stroke fell wide. It laughed and charged, swinging its blade. Bruce danced backwards, feinted to the left, and cut upward, slashing the shadow. Its eyes burned bright red, then shattered like crumbling coals as it dissipated.

  Bruce stood alert listening to the silence, then sprinted up the stairs.

  Pale light from the windows cast shadows around the room, making ghostly shapes of the toppled sheet-covered furniture. Bruce surveyed the room and ran to the nearby wall. He pulled the sword from where it was stuck.

  “To Domus,” he said and faded from the room.

  Chapter 47

  The week dragged by with no word from either Michael or Bruce. Each day brought Erin closer to her meeting with Gary, and her dread for that meeting grew. Thursday evening, after the children were in bed, Erin tidied the kitchen and folded a load of clothes from the dryer. She made herself a cup of peppermint tea and threw the teabag into the trash. The garbage was full, so she picked up the bag to take it outside.

  As she stepped out the back door, a dark form rose slowly from the ground in the bushes in front of her. She dropped the garbage. An icy gust of wind blew, and she pulled her sweater tightly around her body; her bare feet hurt from the sudden chill. The shape grew taller until it blotted out some of the stars. Was this a man, or a trick of the shadows? She peered up at it, and its searing eyes stabbed through her. Terror spiraled through Erin’s body. Could this be a mortifer escaped from her dreams?

  She cried out and dropped to her knees on the gravel driveway, blackness almost overwhelming her, and the creature stretched out its icy claws. Erin felt its bitter touch. She recoiled, and it laughed—a high, hollow sound that was frigid in the night air. When a crow landed in the fir tree overhead and let out one loud caw, the shadow hesitated. It stood motionless while the crow flew to the ground nearby and called out, “Caw, caw, caw,” as it hopped toward Erin.

  She knew she had to get up. As if in slow motion, she lifted herself from the ground and was almost overwhelmed with nausea. Fight it, she thought, keep moving.

  The crow drank from a nearby puddle, and the shadow stretched taller, looming over Erin. Taking a deep breath, she turned and ran across the soft lawn of her garden and down the pathway toward the beach. Could that thing swim? She wouldn’t last long herself in the frigid water. A faint groan escaped her as she turned to see if it had followed her.

  The tide was out and the rocky shoreline glowed faintly in the light of the moon. Erin scanned the beach and the pathway, her heart pounding. What was that thing? Where was it? Was it gone?

  The crow cawed, and the hair on the back of her neck rose as she felt the air become icy cold once again, and the shadowy creature emerged on the path—a darker black than the woods behind it. Erin turned and fled along the beach without looking back, with no idea where she could go. The sharp rocks and barnacles cut into her bare feet, but she kept running, while the beach grew narrower and rockier as the tide rose.

  A large boulder blocked her way, stretching from the forest to the water, so she stopped, her heart racing, her lungs about to burst. She whirled around and saw the shadow a distance away, slowly gliding toward her. The rock face was too steep to climb, so she thrashed into the woods, searching for a path to the road. She stumbled over tangled brush and a small rowboat covered with vines. Pulling with all her strength, Erin dragged and pushed the little boat out of the woods. She could find only one oar. She pulled the boat over the rocks to shore, and pushing hard, she got it into the water.

  The brittle voice of the mortifer called out behind he
r. “You will never get away.”

  The stench gagged her, and she stumbled.

  “Go away.” Erin tried to yell, but her voice faded to a whisper.

  The thing mocked her with its high-pitched laugh. “You are weak.”

  She felt like she would be sick.

  “It amuses us that this viator has taken a lover.”

  Erin’s head jerked up. The sound of its words hurt her to her bones.

  The glint from a knife caught her eye as the shadow bent toward her. “Such irony. The very man who paid us to put an end to your William. Wretched fool. You are so easily seduced.”