by V. L. Holt
“We have,” he looked up at the ceiling, searching for the right word, I guess. “Relatives in similar circumstances. My dad has been searching for them all online,” He nodded at me, conceding that he had been less than forthcoming at school. Clearly, he had good reason. “He’s found several, and they are coming here. We’re going to battle these creatures. Make a stand. Protect ourselves,” He was no longer smiling. He looked grim.
“What are they?” I asked him after I took a sip of lemonade.
He stared at me, probably deciding how much to tell me. I’m no dummy; this guy had good reason to be all dark and mysterious; he was regularly hunted by some mythical dark beast with red eyes and talons, and allegedly, wings?
“They’re called Lochspawn. They’re killing all of us off as fast as they can, but it takes time.”
“What do you mean it takes time?” I ignored the obvious: that this guy sitting at my table was a wanted man with a price on his very handsome head. I couldn’t conceive what it would feel like to lose him, and this-only day two after meeting him.
“It’s complicated.”
Of course it is. I couldn’t help it; I rolled my eyes. Jiggling of the doorknob signaled my mom was home.
“Hey, Jane. Oh!” She saw William. “Hi, I’m Jane’s mom. Eliza Burrows,” She offered her hand, and William took it in his large grip. “I understand we have you to thank for saving Mick’s life,” She said graciously. He looked at me, some alarm present in his eyes before he veiled them. My mom continued. “Mick said he thought it was some kind of bear or something. Can you believe it? Jane, I’m not sure how I feel about you doing this paper route with animals running wild through the neighborhood.”
I wanted to laugh hysterically right then, but William piped up.
“I agree. If you don’t mind, Ms. Burrows, I would like to escort Jane on her route. At least until they catch the animal,” He said in all seriousness.
I was speechless.
“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea,” My mom gushed. Really? I mean, I knew what happened to Mick was serious, but from what William had told me earlier, these things were after him and his dad. I couldn’t summon a genuine fear for my own safety, and furthermore, it was kind of getting my goat that they were discussing my route and my safety like I wasn’t even in the room. Oooh, get my goat…got to write that one down for sure.
“I don’t really think that will be necessary, do you William?” I asked him. I raised my eyebrows really high.
He didn’t crack. “Absolutely I do. What time do we leave tomorrow morning? I assume you’re taking over for Mick?”
My shoulders slumped. “Yeah, he has weekends. But obviously can’t tomorrow,” I answered. I needed to look on the bright side. The hottest guy I’d ever seen, correction, the hottest guy anyone in Deer Fjord had seen, ever, was going to be spending my favorite time of day with me. And it would be dark, so maybe the blushing would be even less of an issue than it usually was. Also, if this icky Lochspawn thingy was out and about, then I would have my own personal warrior/slayer guy with a super-techy invisible sword. I took a mental breath. Maybe I should lay off the marshmallows. “4:00am. Sunday edition, so it’ll take longer,” I mumbled.
William nodded and stuffed some sandwiches into his mouth.
My mom looked inordinately pleased for some reason, and complimented me on the sandwiches.
We finished, William politely said good bye and I walked him to the door.
“See you in the morning. Don’t be late,” I told him. I smiled a little. He was used to getting up early, so I guess I couldn’t expect to annoy him with my usual chipper self.
He looked down at me, and then I saw him looking at my mouth. Crap! Did I have mustard on my mouth or something? I licked my lips, just to make sure. Then William did something I never thought I’d see in a thousand million years. He blushed. He turned abruptly and walked home. Turnabout is fair play, I thought with a smug smile. That was going on my list right now.
25
Zarastrid’s Log
Day 261
Zeko played the gentleman while I was present. Neither he nor Agnes was aware that I overheard their exchange last month.
Our visit went something like this:
Agnes opened the door as graciously as a queen. She gestured to the cradles where the babies lay sleeping. Her little cottage was well-swept, tidy and smelled of mint and rosemary. She had adorned each cradle with boughs of herbs, by her explanation, to aid in giving them restful sleep.
Where Zeko would have wakened the infants to test their strength, I stayed his hand.
“Tell us what their eating habits are like?” I began the interview.
Zeko took my cue then, and inquired after every manner of the infants’ habits. Agnes recalled every detail and answered to Zeko’s satisfaction.
When the infants finally stirred from their slumber, Agnes gave one each to Zeko and I, and held the third to her bosom. I wasn’t sure, but she appeared to have an ironic smile when she handed me the largest of the three.
Zeko tested his infant’s heft, and repeatedly pulled his finger away from the tiny grasp. He seemed pleased at the strength. I was taken aback, for the strangest smile curved on Zeko’s mouth.
I admit I held my baby halfheartedly. I kept stealing glances at Agnes’ face. Serenity seemed the best word to describe her. I found it necessary to continually suppress the memory of stroking her back those many months ago.
Zeko peppered Agnes with more questions such as, “How loudly does the babe cry? Is it a deep timbre?”
The infant I held played with my beard and gurgled softly. Suddenly I smelt something unpleasant.
I looked at Agnes hurriedly. Her smile appeared innocent. She raised her brows at me as she gently bounced the tiny boy in her arms.
Zeko caught a whiff and began howling with laughter. The infant he held joined him in laughing. He jeered at me. “You smell like the Coven after the fire ceremony!”
We returned the infants to their worthy mother, and left. Zeko seemed lighthearted for once. I felt restless and dissatisfied. A hunger grew within me that had nothing to do with babes, pacts or world domination, and everything to do with a certain woman’s freckled and genuine face.
26
I gave William the once-over. He was wearing dark jeans and light sneakers. He wore a gray windbreaker with reflective sleeves, and his hair was damp and just about to get in his eyes. Once again, I resisted the urge to touch the lock that hung over his eyebrow. I wondered if he did his Misrillet before he came to get me, or if he would do it later. He had gotten a hold of a bike and followed me on my route. At first I was nervous having an audience, but I’ve had my route for so long that my muscle memory took over and I landed my papers on porches without thinking twice. It was uneventful, other than a really outstanding sunrise at the end of the route.
We pedaled up my driveway and stopped. I faced him. “When are you expecting this Lochspawn thing to come back?”
He sighed. “They tend to come in waves. This first one was reconnoitering. My dad and I figured some things out about them that we didn’t know before.”
I have to admit, that piqued my interest. “What kinds of things?” This whole scenario was still not quite real to me, even though Mick was still in the hospital. I had after all, only seen a black shape moving from a distance. I know part of my mind didn’t want to grasp the surrealistic circumstances I found myself plunked down in.
William leaned his bike against our garage door and looked at the sun rising over the tops of houses. “There’s still so much you don’t know…” he said quietly. He seemed hesitant to talk to me, which really, what was new there?
I couldn’t tell if I wanted to know more either. I had called Mick last night and was pleased to hear that he was already feeling much better, but if all of this stuff was really real, then I didn’t know how sucked in I wanted to be. I decided not to rush William. Whatever I didn’t know wouldn’t hurt me, I figu
red.
“My people. We’re called Warriors,” He said.
I nodded. Seemed simple enough.
“We’re not exactly human,” came next.
I choked back a gasp. “Wha-at?”
“An ancient sect of wizards, called Warlochs, with a ‘ch’ at the end, created my people,” William still stared at the sun in the East. I watched his face emerge from the dim light of near dawn into the pale orange glow of day. He looked serene, somehow, even with the fact that there were some kind of nasty Loch Ness monsters coming to eat him soon.
“They wanted the power to control government seats. They kidnapped several women with long-lived ancestors and good health. They bred offspring from them that had incredible healing abilities, keen senses, athletic prowess and the like.”
I stepped up to him and put my hand on his chest. Never mind that I had wanted to do that almost from the second I laid eyes on him. “Wait, what? Kidnapped? Bred? That’s like, like,” I couldn’t say it.
He turned his head and stared down at me. “Yes. They were taken against their will. The Warlochs used a blend of magicks and science and,” he had the grace to look extremely uncomfortable. “And DNA donors.”
I swallowed. “This sounds like the dark ages or something. It’s crazy!”
He nodded. “It was the Middle Ages. You’ll recall the expansion and dominion you talked about in class on Friday?”
I said yes.
“The Vandals, the Visigoths…” He started.
“The Magyars,” I added.
“Yes. All of those. That was the cloth we were made of,” William still looked at me, perhaps gauging my reaction. “The Warlochs bred into their Warrior spawn every vicious instinct, every lethal ability. They wanted Warriors that could guarantee the victory of every war,” His eyes bore deeply into mine. He spoke with such conviction, it made me wonder whose side he was on for a minute.
“Okay,” I said, wanting him to know I was listening. I was more than listening…this was some heavy junk. I straddled the fence between disbelief and fascination.
“They didn’t expect two things that happened. The mothers were allowed to raise their sons for the first five years of their lives,” His beautiful black and brown and gold eyes warmed. “They taught their sons about love and compassion.”
“Oh,” I let out a breath. “And the second thing?” I asked.
“The Warlochs didn’t think to breed fealty into them. They assumed it would happen as a result of their creation.”
“When did they revolt?” I asked.
William seemed pleased with my logical conclusion. “About four and a half years after several bloody wars. They began congregating and planning. They staged their own coup, but not to overtake the government. They just left. They abandoned the battlefield. They left their country and by mutual agreement, split up forever. They thought if they were unavailable to fight as the Warlochs’ pawns, that they would be free. They had families. And surprisingly, the attributes were passed on through the generations.”
I frowned. “But they weren’t free?”
William looked at his feet. “ The Warlochs were livid. In their fury they vowed to hunt down and massacre every Warrior and his progeny until the end of time. They began breeding a new kind of warrior immediately. Less man and more beast. Unquestioning loyalty. Blind obedience. Not an original thought among them. Vicious, ruthless killers with the knowledge of ancient incantations and modern science. Each generation is a disgusting new twist on the old.”
“My dad and I just figured out that they are almost ‘remotely’ controlled by a chip embedded in their skin. That’s how they receive their commands to hunt and kill us.”
“They can fly?” I asked in a soft voice.
William gave a dry humorless laugh. “Yes. Among other things.”
“Do these Warlochs live forever or something? Do they have books that have their plans for world domination in them? And family trees and genetic records? How has this been going on for so long?” My confusion rippled through my voice.
William put a hand on my shoulder. It practically spanned half my back. His body heat warmed me from within, and I felt comfort.
“They have very long lives and very long memories,” He answered.
“You said you’re not human. Those Lochspawns aren’t human. You’re more human than most people,” I looked him in the eye.
He closed his eyes. Like he didn’t want to say anymore. “One of the legacies the Warlochs bred into us,”
I waited, not daring to breathe.
“We don’t die easily,” He said.
“Yeah, you mentioned that. You said you heal faster than most,” I was enjoying the feel of his hand on my shoulder but he moved it to my arm.
“We die. And we live again immediately. No lasting wounds. Maybe a minute or two of death, and then right back into battle. We’re invincible at war.”
I had my hand on his hand. I loved how strong and big and warm it felt under my palm. I just relished it as I tried to digest what he was talking about. “Like, you resurrect forever?” I was trying to wrap my brain around this.
“Not forever. Ninety nine times,” He looked into my eyes.
I furrowed my brow as I looked back. “You keep dying in battle?” Moisture brimmed above my lower lids.
He nodded slowly. “We’ve been running, trying to outrun our own deaths. The Lochspawn have learned to exploit every advantage. Toledo was…” his voice trailed off for a minute. “My dad doesn’t want me to fight anymore. I lost several lives in Toledo.”
I had to ask him. I knew I had to ask him. But I didn’t want to. He saw the tears threatening to spill, and put a large calloused finger up to my cheek. One fell, and he caught it with his knuckle. I watched him stare at the tear. It glistened in the golden light of the morning sun as he lifted it to his mouth. He kissed it gone from his finger, and then looked at me. He really looked at me. I felt he could see more of me than I even knew existed. It was like he was embracing my whole soul with just his eyes.
“When? When are they going to get here?” I asked instead.
“The Lochspawn will be recovering from the wounds I gave it. We assume he has to return to the home base, wherever that is, and then he’ll gather his compatriots. It should take a week. My father and I are waiting for reinforcements though. This will be the first time in decades that more than just a few Warriors will gather together. For the first time, I have hope in some kind of future that doesn’t involve running and hiding,” He lifted a corner of his mouth. “And maybe I have a nice reason to stick around someplace for a change.”
He was doing it on purpose. He had to be. I knew the hot flame I felt all over my body was not from the sunrise.
27
Zarastrid’s Log
Five Years Later
For the Pact, I left the Fortress. I recognized my desires for what they were, and travelled a great distance. Zyrich accompanied me as we travelled to the Far East in search of the means to create the Greek Fire. I collected the pieces of the chesse as we crossed the globe.
Zeko kept us apprised of the growing boys’ strengths and abilities while we roamed. Now we are returned.
On this the Eve of my reunion with Agnes, I question the strange obsession I’ve had with her.
None of the Warlochs have felt the desire for hearth and family. Those tender signs of weakness were expelled from our bodies when the Fey Witch thrust our burning hearts into the Loch. When we rose up out of the water, our feelings of love and mercy were effectively charred out of our souls. The fact that I have thought of none other but Agnes every night for the past five years concerns me. Perhaps the Fey Witch made a fatal mistake with me? Perhaps her spell had a weakness, and I am a canker in the Coven, destined to burn.
I did say that I love irony. As Zyrich has searched for the ingredients of the Greek Fire, I burn inside for the warmth of Agnes’ smile.
I will bring her the chesse game, complete with u
nique pieces from around the world. It will be a set like no other.
I cannot give her more than that.
28
Zeko stood stock still as his assistant brushed the lint roller down the sleeves of his Giorgio Armani. His secretary sat at her desk, typing maniacally on a computer. Another peon hustled past the door to his corner office. His assistant stood, and he let his eyes drift to her cleavage. Very satisfactory, he thought to himself. She looked down demurely and waited for his command.
“You may leave now,” He said magnanimously. He admired her luscious curves as she left the office. Maybe later, he promised himself. “Jasmina!” He barked at his secretary. The typing stopped.
“Yes sir,” She responded.
“What word from Zarastrid?”
“He is flying in to LAX at 5. We’re sending a car and you have dinner reservations at Linelli’s at 7pm. I’m emailing him the itinerary now.”
“Very well. What of the other business?”
“Zyrick faxed you a copy of the latest test results. He said cooperation from the subjects is difficult,” She swallowed visibly; Zeko watched her slender pale throat move with the action. He closed his eyes and smelled her perfume from across the room. Lily of the Valley. Very nice. Maybe later, he promised himself.
“Of course the subjects are difficult. They’re always difficult. Remind him of the rewards of success.”
“Of course, sir,” His secretary replied. The typing resumed.
Zeko strode out of the office and straight to the bank of elevators. He took a car to the subbasement of his building, fidgeting with his cufflinks all the while.
Once in the subbasement, he walked down the aisle, passing closed black doors until he reached the end. He knocked once, and then opened the door. He turned the light on with the switch that was precisely one foot away from the occupant’s furthest reach.
“And how are you this afternoon?”
The pathetic figure chained to the ring in the floor didn’t answer.