by Sandy James
“I’ll find you, Rebecca.”
She gave him a brisk nod, glanced at her sisters, then ducked out of the cabin.
Stumbling to keep up with Artair’s serpentine run across the sandpit, she ducked the helicopter’s searchlights. She plowed right into his back when he stopped abruptly. The ground next to him exploded. His gaze followed the chopper, tracking where they would be dropping the next charge. Trying to shake the paralyzing fright, she drew strength from Artair’s no-nonsense approach to getting to the arsenal.
Once secured inside the armory, he armed himself with a sword and a dirk before he helped her don her bow and quiver of arrows on her back. She grabbed a sword before following him to the door, where he cautiously scanned the scene.
“Get yourself out of Avalon. I must be sure the others have fled and find the changelings. Fight your way out. Fight like I know you can.” His desperate tone cut through her fear. “I expect the revenants any time now, and I won’t be able to fight if I worry for yer safety. Promise me, Becca mine. Promise ye will flee and fight if you have to.”
She nodded, knowing he was right. They had to split up to get away safely. She would be able to find the other Amazons, but she didn’t know how she would find him. “Where should we meet?”
“Don’t fear. You’re Earth—I’ll find you. See to your own safety.” He grabbed her, gave her a hard kiss, then turned her loose. “Trust me. I will find you.” Artair was out the door in a heartbeat, Rebecca close at his heels. He shoved her toward the woods. “Now, lass! Get yourself out of here!” He was gone before she could be frightened for him.
Before she could tell him how much she loved him.
The courtyard was chaos.
The helicopter hovered above, shining lights so bright that they blinded her when they passed over her face. A bizarre flash popped into her head of old prison movies where the inmate escaped as the bloodhounds barked and the searchlights scanned the yard.
The best thing she could do was listen to her Sentinel and put some distance between her and the outbuildings before the revenants arrived.
She took a deep breath. Too late. The stench of the decaying creatures filled her nostrils.
Ducking into the trees bordering the compound, she crouched low, trying to see where the zombies would launch their attack so she could figure out the best direction to escape. The first wave came from behind her old cabin. Three revenants entered the building and tossed it like cops with an ambiguous search warrant. Rebecca could hear things breaking and mourned the furnishings they were destroying.
About to slip deeper into the woods, a cold chill raced over her skin, raising gooseflesh. Two small, brown rabbits were hopping madly across the sandpit.
A burst of energy replaced her fear. Jumping from her cover, she readied her sword and rushed the revenants that had emptied from her cabin and were lumbering toward the sandpit. She wasn’t sure if rabbit was on their menu, but she wasn’t letting them anywhere near her beloved changelings. Rebecca beheaded two revenants before they had a chance to touch her.
Sheathing her sword, she ran across the grass, fearing the other revenant would catch up. She grabbed the two rabbits by the scruffs of their necks. Explosions shook the ground, and she was blinded by one of the bright searchlights. Squeezing Beagan and Dolan against her chest, she zigzagged back to the woods. The light seemed to have picked up her pattern as it followed her from the sandpit back toward the woods.
Rebecca reflexively ducked at the first gunshots. She flinched as the bullets drilled her back. The feel of the scalding pieces of metal sliding around in her shirt was almost as bad as the force of the shots.
“Damn it!” The stupid light shadowed her every move, and each time it passed over her, more gunshots hit her back and arms. A couple of shots pounded off the back of her head, leaving spots that throbbed. The sickening moan of revenants sang behind her. She ran faster.
Leaping into some small bushes at the edge of the trees, she put the rabbits down and set her sword aside. They scrambled to huddle next to her ankles. The changelings were frightened, shaking and cowering, and she needed to see to their safety.
She pulled the hem of her shirt out of her pants, letting the bullets slide down her skin and tumble to the ground. She counted a dozen bullets before she gave up her tally. A shudder ripped through her at the thought of what those bullets could have wrought. Hopefully, they hadn’t done too much damage to the bow and blessed arrows she carried on her back.
Rebecca tucked her T-shirt back into her pants, picked up each rabbit and dropped one and then the other down the neckhole of her shirt. They settled on either side of her waist, and she was grateful they weren’t scrambling around, tickling her. She could feel their frightened trembles. She grabbed her sword again, ready to fight.
The revenants poured into the courtyard, destroying everything in their path. The overpowering stench forced her to breathe through her mouth to keep from gagging, but she couldn’t seem to drag herself away from the morbid sight as she watched Avalon die.
* * *
How many miles had she run through the woods? Run? No, loped. Rebecca had been afraid to run too hard or too fast. If she tripped over some of the underbrush, she would have fallen and crushed Beagan and Dolan. But she’d traveled fast enough to have scrapes and cuts on her face and arms from unseen branches grazing her skin.
Not entirely sure where she was going, she simply tried to put as much distance between herself and Avalon as she could. The fetid odor of the revenants had followed her for a short while, but the comforting smell of pine was the only thing that now tickled her nose.
For once appreciative of all the training she’d received during Girl Scouts, she used the North Star to help her move in something other than a blind path that might have inadvertently led her back to her enemies. Fatigue caught up with her, and after what seemed like hours of moving, she needed to rest. She stopped and tried to catch her breath.
She stabbed her sword into the ground. She’d held it the entire time in case she might need to defend herself and the changelings. Perhaps she’d learned something after all. The old Rebecca would have sheathed it and chosen not to let its bulk weigh her arm down. Her biceps felt a little sore, but she’d definitely toughened up. Artair and Sparks had done their jobs well.
Artair. How in the hell was she supposed to find Artair?
I am Earth. Artair will find me.
Tugging her shirt out of her waistband, she caught the first rabbit that wiggled free. Setting him on the grass, she lifted the other side and pulled the second one loose. “You guys okay?”
They changed right in front of her. She couldn’t remember seeing anything as fascinating as those tiny, furry animals growing into the Beagan and Dolan she knew and loved.
“Mistress, are you well?” Dolan came to her side and worriedly ran his hand over her arm. The poor shape-shifter stared at her, and for a moment, she was afraid he would cry.
“I’m fine.” Her words didn’t seem to calm him, and Beagan moved to her other side and started to pat her hip over and over until she was sure she would bruise from his concern. “Really, guys. I’m fine.”
“You saved our lives, mistress,” Dolan said, his voice tinted by a quaver. “We can never thank you enough.”
She sure didn’t think she deserved praise for doing the right thing. Besides, she loved them. She could never have left them to fend for themselves.
Beagan actually grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it as she had seen him do for Rhiannon. She wasn’t about to let that nonsense happen again. Not only would it piss off the goddess, but Rebecca wouldn’t have them think they owed her anything. Drawing her hand away, she reached back and tousled his hair. “It’s all right. I couldn’t leave my friends behind.”
“We must make a camp for you,” Dolan insisted. “It might not be perfect, but it shall be comfortable.” He reached for her hand, probably to kiss it.
She threaded her fingers
through her own sweaty bangs to keep it out of his grasp. “Make camp?” She gave the changelings a lopsided smile. “Kind of hard to do without any supplies.”
Beagan and Dolan exchanged knowing glances. “Leave it to us, mistress.”
They scurried away into the trees.
Should she call them back? If they went too far, she’d never be able to find them. If the enemy chose to attack, she wasn’t sure she could help them. “Guys? Stay close.”
Sitting down on a fallen log, Rebecca pulled the bow and quiver from her back and laid them on the ground. Her hands trembled now that she had nothing to occupy them. She watched her shaking fingers as if they belonged to someone else.
She’d maintained her control through the attack on Avalon, and there’d been little fear. She was in one piece.
“Man, I need a stiff drink.”
“’Twill be a bit difficult, but I will get that for you shortly, mistress,” Dolan replied from behind her, causing her to jump. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to how soundlessly they moved, and she didn’t even bother asking how they could get liquor in the middle of nowhere. “Was there a certain libation you would prefer? Wine? Whiskey?”
“That’s okay, honey. I was only kidding.”
“We shall have a shelter for you soon. Then you can sleep. You need your rest, mistress.” He scurried off into the woods again.
Picking up her bow, Rebecca ran her fingers over every inch. While there were several pings where the bullets had struck, it seemed intact. She checked each arrow. A couple were discarded because of bent shafts. The quiver had some through-and-though bullet holes, but at least most everything was useable. If any of the goddesses caught up with her, she’d ask for some more blessed arrows. One could never be too careful or too well armed.
Her heart slowed to a more relaxed beat, and with its calm came a rush of fatigue. Even standing up and walking sapped her remaining strength. She soon found herself settled in a small lean-to they’d constructed of pine branches and lined with moss.
“You two wanna sleep next to me?”
Both declined with a shake of their heads before morphing into rabbits and scurrying away.
They’d be more comfortable sleeping in the woods as rabbits anyway.
Rolling to her side, she laid her head on her arm and closed her eyes.
No sooner had she begun to feel drugged by sleep than she sensed someone near. Before she could even take a look around, Artair’s warmth pressed to her back. He draped a muscled arm over her waist and kissed her neck. She snuggled against him, drawing strength from his mere presence.
“Are you well, Becca mine?” he whispered in her ear, nuzzling his nose into her hair.
She nodded. “Are you?”
“Aye.”
“Did you find the others?”
“Nay. But we can begin to sniff out their trail on the morrow, and you can help me locate them. Or that device Johann gave you will bring them to us.” He tugged her a little closer and fit his legs to the back of hers. “Sleep now, sweeting. We face a long day tomorrow.”
His hands didn’t seem intent upon letting her get any rest, and his body pressed to hers offered excitement, not relaxation. The caresses started as almost absentminded strokes. Her waist. Her belly.
When he smoothed his hand over her shoulder and touched some of the sore spots left by the bullets, Rebecca flinched and hissed in a breath.
His whole body stiffened. “Ye lied.”
“Hmm?”
“Ye lied to me. Yer injured.” He sat up, and even in the dim light of the moon, she could see him glaring down at her. “Where are ye hurt?” His brogue grew thicker as his hands became insistent, running over the painful welts on her back and arms.
“I’m fine.” She tried to brush his hands away, but he was already pulling her shirt off.
“How many times did the bastards shoot you, lass?”
“What does it matter? The bullets didn’t do any real damage. I’m an Amazon. I’ll heal.”
Artair’s fingers touched her skin, stopping several times at what she figured were bruises. “Why did ye nae let one of the changelings tend to these?”
“Tend to them? With what? We’re in the middle of the woods. Besides, they’re just bruises.”
“Aye, but—”
“No. No, but!” Not wanting to keep shouting at him, she took a deep, calming breath. After everything she’d been through in the last day, one breath didn’t seem to help much. Her temper took control. “You’ve got to stop this.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop babying me. I’m fine. I got shot at. I’ll heal. I’m an Amazon, Artair. I’m gonna get hurt. You need to face that. You need to let me do my job.”
His silence did little to calm her irritation.
“I know I started out a little rough around the edges, but I’ve learned. I’m fighting for a good cause, the best cause there is. Odds are I’m gonna get hurt. A lot. I could die.”
“I ken it,” he snapped.
“Then why are you so upset over a few bullets bouncing off my back?”
“I cannot lose you.”
The words were warmly received, but they didn’t change her resolution. “I trust you, and I trust in your abilities. I don’t let myself worry about what you’re doing in a fight, because I know you can handle yourself.”
“Becca, I—”
Rebecca put gentle fingers to his lips to bid his silence. “There will come a time when you’ll have to trust me, trust my skills and trust my intuition. I need to know you will, or I’ll be too concerned about you to do my job. I need to know you’ll have faith that I can do everything you and Sparks taught me. I’ve accepted the fact I’m an Amazon. You need to accept it too.”
His lips pursed to kiss her fingertips. She slowly pulled her hand back, but Artair grabbed her by the wrist. Tugging her hand to his lips, he kissed it, and then smiled against her skin. “’Twould seem I owe you an apology.”
“For?”
“For doubting you. You’re absolutely right, Becca mine. I need to trust you.” His lips caressed the back of her hand before he turned it over and kissed her palm. Pressing a kiss to her wrist, he let his lips trace a path up her arm.
Fatigue was quickly swept away by passion, her near-death experience adding fuel to the inferno she always felt around her Scotsman. She needed Artair to help her know she’d survived and had lived to face another day. Would the emotional aftermath of every fight be passion?
Clutching at his plaid, she worked on removing his brooch with hurried, clumsy fingers.
He gently brushed her hand away, removed the brooch and again reached for her hand. Pressing the jewelry into her palm, he smiled. “’Tis yours now. You are marked a MacKay.”
“Marked a MacKay?”
“You’re of my clan. I take you as my own. I want you to keep this close to your heart.” He closed her fingers over the pin. “I love you.”
“You love me?”
“Aye, Becca mine. I love you.” He squeezed the hand holding the MacKay pin. “’Tis why I give you this now with all of my heart.”
That brooch symbolized the life he’d left behind, and he’d given it to her. “But you’ll want this when you—”
He cupped her cheek. “I have made up my mind, lass. I’ll not leave you.”
“You’re staying?”
“Aye. I’m staying. I give you this to show you I intend to remain by your side, to be yours as you are mine. You need to say that you take me as your own. Say the words, Becca. I need to hear them from your lips.” He pulled his hand away from her face, jerked the plaid from his shoulder and covered their joined hands. “Say the words.”
“I love you, Artair.”
“And…?”
“And I take you as my own.” She smiled. “Are we going steady now?”
“’Tis a bit more than that. I’ll explain it all later. For now, just know I will never leave you. Only death can part us now.”<
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Rebecca threw herself at Artair so hard she knocked them both to the ground. Stretching out on top of him, she rained kisses on his cheeks, reveling in his choice to stay.
Reality threw a bucket of ice water on her ardor.
He was giving up his life—his real life—to be with her. It wasn’t fair to expect him to keep putting himself at risk simply because she was selfish and wanted to keep him near. It wasn’t right to make him give up his dreams.
She couldn’t let him make such a sacrifice for her.
Artair sat up on an elbow, put his other hand behind her head and tried to pull her into a kiss.
She resisted.
“Becca? What’s wrong?”
“You can’t stay.”
“Why, sweeting? I love you. Why don’t you want me to stay?”
“Because you had plans,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “Because you want a wife, a child. I can’t be your wife. I—I can’t give you a child. If you stay, all you’ll have is grief. More battles, more losing people you care about, more of what you’ve grown to hate. I love you too much to do that to you.” She bit her lip, trying to keep from showing him how much this was killing her, how hard it was to let him go.
“Do you nae understand? I no longer wish to have a wife if that wife isn’t you. I would find no joy in a child created with another woman. I want you and only you. We are joined now. We said the words.”
“But—”
He stopped her with a kiss so filled with passion she had no choice but to surrender.
His lips were insistent, almost brutal, his tongue thrusting into her mouth in a silent demand. His hands grabbed at her sports bra he’d seemed to figure out how to remove, breaking their kiss so he could work it over her head before his mouth was again pressed to hers.
She reached out to remove his plaid and realized she still clutched his brooch. Setting the clan pin on her discarded shirt, she took Sparks’s Zippo from her pocket and reverently placed it next to Artair’s gift. Then she went about undressing the man she loved more than life itself.