Dark Gathering

by Karlene Cameron

  “Who are you?” she asked, wishing the nervous tremors in her voice weren’t so obvious.

  “I could ask you the same,” he said, the hardness in his voice edged with sarcasm. He shook back a stray lock of hair that hung in his alluring blue eyes.

  “Did you bring me here?” she questioned, with as much authority as she could muster.

  “My men and I did,” he replied, his eyes roaming appreciatively over her body.

  Caitriona hugged her body. “Am I being held prisoner?”

  He laughed, but the smile he flashed didn’t reach his eyes. “You are free to leave,” he stressed the word free. “But you may want to think about your exit plan. You were in pretty rough shape when my men found you and I’m guessing that knife wound on your shoulder wasn’t because you got carried away slicing bread.” He arched an eyebrow at her, his look challenging and sure.

  Caitriona knew he was mocking her and it rankled her last nerve. Deciding anywhere was better than standing here in front of this man, she started to march past him. In truth, she had no idea where she was going to go.

  “The name’s Sean Harrison,” he barked.

  She was close enough to see the deep scar that sat just below his left eye. He extended his hand to her. After several seconds, she tentatively reached out hers. He brought her hand to his mouth, his lips grazing the back of her knuckles. The feeling wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

  She looked up into his eyes and saw her reflection staring back. His hair was dark and reached well past his shoulders. He was wearing a fitted pair of trues with a linen shirt that revealed dark hair on his well-defined chest. He was only a few inches taller than her, but there was no mistaking his masculinity or strength. Realizing he was still holding her hand, she withdrew it as if she had just grasped a hot poker.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss…”

  “Catie,” she told him. She didn’t know why she didn’t share her full name, but her gut was telling her something wasn’t right and until she figured this out, she was convinced that less information would probably be safest.

  “Well, Catie, do you want to tell me what you were doing in the snow, barefoot and looking for all intents and purposes like something the cat dragged in? Or why the Order is looking for a woman that matches your description?”

  “Am I a prisoner here?” she asked for the second time since meeting him. She wanted to ask who the Order was, but something deep inside her set off warning alarms. Now was not the time to ask questions, she thought.

  He laughed, pushing an errant tendril of hair out of her eyes and tucking it behind her ear. “Hardly,” he laughed again. “You are free to leave at any time. I mean that.”

  She started to push past him, fully intending to hold him to his word.

  “But the Order’s men are crawling all over this place—and they’re heavily armed. So, a pretty lady like you should at least have a plan.”

  Her skin prickled. An image flashed across her mind of a small man with glasses and somewhere her memory recalled the name Hawkins. Was he connected to the Order? She needed answers.

  “Are you a…Dweller?” she asked, unsure where this conversation was headed, or why that word came out of her mouth. She watched his expression carefully, hoping he would give away a tell in his animations.

  “Not exactly,” he replied glibly. “Come.” He held out his hand to her.

  She eyed him suspiciously.

  “Look, I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but then again, I’d say you don’t have too many options, either.” A lopsided grin made him look boyishly charming…and rather disarming.

  “I just need my clothes and I’ll be leaving.”

  “Ahh...playing hard to get, huh?”

  A blush crept across her face. She pulled her hand away from him and started walking back toward the room she had vacated earlier. He hustled over to her and walked beside her. She cast a sideways glance at him, trying to decide if he posed a threat. His pants and shirt hugged his body nicely, highlighting the lines of his muscles and the lean body that boasted not one ounce of fat. Over his shirt, he wore a holster of sorts that reminded Caitriona of a cowboy from the late 1800s. Two weapons were holstered and she wondered if the safety was on or left deliberately off. She shuddered at the thought. His hair was secured at the nape of his neck and hinted at the full mane that was being kept tightly under wraps. But it was the whip and dirk he kept strapped to his hip and thigh that intrigued her the most. It’s like walking with Indiana Jones, she thought, and then berated herself for not focusing her thoughts. In short, he was sporty without being a jock and she liked that. Maybe even a little too much.

  She shook her head and picked up her pace. He matched her stride for stride.

  “Look.” He spun her around so she was forced to stop and address him. “I’d say we got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t I show you where you can get cleaned up and then we can get to know each other over some food?”

  She still didn’t trust him, but she also didn’t have too many options. Her head hurt and she couldn’t remember where she was or how she had ended up here. The last thing she remembered was leaving the high-rise office building in downtown Seattle where she worked. “How long have I been here?” she asked, fear giving her voice an edgy quality she didn’t like.

  “Three days,” he replied.

  Her mouth dropped open. “I have to leave,” she said again, this time with much more conviction in her voice. She had lost so much time. The thought left a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she was uncertain why.

  “Catie, you can’t go out there. It’s not safe. Please, just stay here for now.”

  “I don’t even know where ‘here’ is,” she argued, and then regretted giving him the upper hand.

  “You’re in the underground tunnel that connects the Ford Theater to various buildings in New Washington.”

  “New Washington?” she questioned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Years ago, the tunnels were built when the Order began executing large swaths of the population. They were only rumors at first, but as more refugees found solace and eventual freedom, the stories grew and gathered momentum. Eventually, those who were considered genetically inferior fled below ground in search of the legendary tunnels. Most never found them on their own. And those who use them keep them well guarded and hidden.”

  “So, if you’re not a Dweller, then you’re a…Genetic?” she said, searching for the right word. She combed her memory trying to remember why this was important. And why would these two words pop into her vocabulary as if she had been using them for years? She pressed her hand to her head. Gooseflesh rose on her skin, but she was uncertain why. “Are you a…Templar?” she continued her questioning. Again, the word seemed to float in her memory, but she didn’t know why.

  “You are inquisitive, aren’t you?” At her silence, he continued. “And you also seem to have a very myopic view of politics. Where are you from?”

  “Not here,” she replied.

  “I gathered that much,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Give me a few hours. I will answer any questions you have and see if we can find a way to contact your people.”

  She nodded her head, not sure who “her people” were. Why couldn’t she remember anything? Her options were limited, but she didn’t sense a threat coming from this man. He certainly wasn’t revealing much, but she didn’t get the sense he wanted to do her harm. She knew, however, that greed had a way of permeating the most stalwart of convictions, so until she knew what he was doing in the tunnels—or what she was doing in the tunnels—she was going to remain on guard.

  “Good. I’ve taken the liberty of having the bathing chamber prepared for you. I’m certain it won’t be the most luxurious bath you’ve ever taken, but it will clear away the grime.” He draped his arm across her shoulder and pulled her playfully against him.

  She chuckled, a slight smile splaying across her face. She knew
she was putting a lot of trust in a man she knew nothing about. But right now, he appeared to be her only ally. And at the moment, she could use all the allies she could get.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Sean Harrison looked up from his coffee when the striking redhead exited the bathing chambers and stood before him. She had donned the vintage a-line dress he had brought her, pinning back her full curls into an arresting coif that nestled at the nape of her neck. The dress, while plain, accentuated her small waist and showed off her delicate calves. The slippers he had procured were too small given the swelling she had experienced from her time outside, so she had gone barefoot instead, giving her a waifish and girlish look.

  The community doctor had repaired her shoulder with old-fashioned medicine, so her left arm remained in a sling that supported her shoulder and kept her arm immobile. Despite her injuries, she was breathtakingly beautiful and he felt a flutter deep within him that hadn’t been there before. Surely, she belongs to someone, but whom? he wondered. The Order wanted her, but why? Was she Hawkins’ wife? Why wouldn’t she tell him who she was? He planned on getting answers.

  “You look…human,” he said with a slight smile to his voice. He wanted to say ravaging but caught himself. It wouldn’t do to frighten her. He gestured to the rickety chair next to him and watched as she walked over and seated herself in the chair. Almost as if she’s going to an inquisition, he thought. He gestured to the food that was in front of her. “Help yourself,” he said, lifting the lids on several dishes that were still steaming.

  She looked a bit like a deer trying to decide if she should fight or flee. He watched as she mentally assessed her options enough to start plying food onto her plate. He stretched back in the chair and watched her eat. It was evident she was undernourished, but again that nagging question of why kept begging for an answer.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked between mouthfuls.

  “I had something earlier,” he said. She stopped chewing and put her fork down, spitting the food she was eating onto the floor.

  He laughed out loud. “You think I’m trying to poison you?” he asked incredulously. She stared at him. He picked up her fork and began shoving big mouthfuls of food into his mouth. “Would I do this if I were trying to poison you?” he asked, reaching for another dish. When he had sufficiently made his way through every dish, he handed the fork back to her. “Eat,” he encouraged her. What has she been through that causes her to be on guard all the time?

  She took the fork from him and resumed eating. “Who prepared all this?” she asked, wiping her mouth.

  “The women and men in our community,” he replied. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he needed to err on the side of caution before he revealed more information. “Who are you running from?”

  “You obviously know the answer to that,” she replied, venom dripping from her voice.

  “Fair point, my dear. Let me rephrase the question. Why does Hawkins want you?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied, but he noticed the hesitation in her voice.

  “You and I both know that’s a lie,” he said, folding his arms across his stomach. “Do you want to try again?”

  She remained silent.

  “What were you doing in the tunnels?” he asked.

  “What were you?” she snapped.

  He released his breath and leaned forward. He could see the irises of her eyes. She really was quite enchanting, even with bruises and cuts marring her porcelain skin. He wanted to get to know her better.

  “Fair enough,” he acknowledged again. “I was looking for you.”

  She creased her brow and gave him a perplexed look.

  “Like I said, the Order’s men were crawling all over these grounds and it didn’t take long to figure out what—or who—they were looking for. What I want to know is, why?” He waited for her response, knowing full well she wasn’t going to give him one.

  She folded her napkin and placed it on her plate. Pushing her chair away from the table, she stood. “Thank you, Mr. Harrison, but I believe I’ve overstayed my welcome. Good day.” Spinning on her heels she turned to exit the room. He watched her leave, his eyes following the sway of her hips as she sashayed across the room. Pushing back his chair, he closed the distance to her in three easy strides, placing his hand on her good shoulder.

  “Stay. I really am just trying to get answers. You are welcome to stay as long as you need.”

  “Mr. Harrison, if this Hawkins character wants me as much as you’ve indicated, then every day—no, every hour—that I remain here, puts you and your people in danger. I appreciate all that you’ve done but I must be on my way.”

  “But why?” he interjected. “Why does the Order want you so badly?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “The details are…fuzzy.”

  He stared at her for several seconds. “Alright,” he said, shaking his head. “But at least let me take you through the tunnels and across enemy lines. It’s the safest way I know.” At her protest, he added, “Besides, how else will I get to spend more time with you?”

  The corners of her lips turned up in a half smile and she laughed, a delicate sound that made him smile. “Ok,” she said, nodding her head. “I could use the escort, especially since you do look a lot like Indiana Jones.”

  He cocked his head to one side, unsure of what she was referencing. “Let me pull together some supplies and provisions and I will be back to get you in 30 minutes.”

  She acquiesced but he could still see the hesitancy in her eyes. Walking her back to her room, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles. She didn’t flinch, but stared at him with her large, soulful eyes, and he was left wondering once again who she was and how she ended up here. He held her hand as his eyes searched hers. She didn’t pull away. For now, he’d take that as a good sign.

  True to his word, Sean returned in 30 minutes, a large pack slung over his shoulder, and carrying a weapon and holster that he handed to Caitriona. She took the weapon, eyeing it with suspicion.

  “Can you use a next-gen weapon?” he asked her, hesitating when he saw the uncertainty in her face.

  “I’m not sure,” she mumbled, panic gripping her at the unfamiliarity of the weapon and his words. Strapping the holster to her hip, she secured the weapon and followed him from the room, her long legs matching his steps stride for stride. The boots he gave her were small and hurt her feet, but she knew she’d need some protection from the snow.

  After several minutes, she lost track of their direction as they made their way through the labyrinth of tunnels. “How do you know so much about Hawkins?” she asked, breaking the silence that was nearly deafening in the cavernous echoes of the tunnels.

  “Let’s just say I wasn’t winning any elections back in my youth,” he scoffed. “Hawkins’ archaic prejudices and religious extremes have gone too far,” he continued.

  Caitriona nodded, unsure where she stood with this man. They continued walking in silence for what seemed like several hours but was only about 40 minutes. Sean led her through several turns where the tunnels forked and crossed each other. At one point, they went out a side door that led to the outside, but after traversing 20 yards, they climbed down a drain tunnel and were back in the elaborate underground tunnel system that had been built long ago.

  After climbing and walking for several hours, the fatigue started to wear on her. Her head was pounding and she could feel her body losing the battle. When she stumbled, Sean quickly put his arm around her waist and kept her on her feet. “We’re going to stop for the night,” he said. “In about another 10 minutes, there’s an exit where we can go top-side. There’s an inn not far from there. I know the owner. You’ll be safe.”

  She nodded. Her head hurt like hell and she was exhausted from their journey. She was mentally spent and worried that her memory was fuzzy at best. She had no idea if this man was friend or foe or even if she had any friends. She coul
d feel the tears brimming behind her eyes. She swiped the back of her hand across her face and followed Sean into the white-blanketed night, determination her only asset.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Caitriona and Sean ate a silent meal of hot stew and bread in the room they secured at his friend’s inn. When they first arrived at the inn, Caitriona felt the unease and tension that surrounded the innkeeper. She had watched as Sean embraced his friend, the two of them huddling together for several minutes, talking in low tones. Occasionally, both men would look over at her and she would smooth the wrinkles from her a-line skirt and white shirt, nervously aware that theirs were not the only eyes on her in the room. After several minutes, Sean had walked over to her and pointed to the stairs. “It’s not luxury accommodations, but it’s warm, dry, and you can get a good night’s sleep.”

  Now she looked up as Sean set his fork down noisily. “You look like you’re about to drop from exhaustion,” Sean said, interrupting her ruminations. Stifling a yawn, Caitriona ate the last of her stew and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, not caring that it wasn’t the most ladylike gesture she’d ever performed. She glanced up to see Sean staring at her. She lowered her eyes, uncomfortable with the scrutiny of his penetrating gaze. There was something about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She just needed some rest.

  Gathering the empty bowls and placing them outside the door for the staff to collect, Sean pointed to the large four-poster bed. “Go ahead and take the bed,” he said chivalrously. “These chairs look like they’ve got my name on them,” he added, pushing the two chairs together and retrieving a pillow from the bed.

  She eyed him skeptically but said nothing. Her surroundings were still unfamiliar to her. And despite the fact they’d walked for what seemed like the better part of a day, Sean had told her they were still in New Washington. She needed to find out what was meant by New Washington and how she got here. So many questions and zero answers, she thought with dismay. Perhaps in the daylight she’d be able to get a better look at her surroundings and begin to piece together the puzzle. The last thing she needed was to succumb to the panic that threatened to overtake her.