Homeward Bound (Journeyman Book 1)

by Golden Czermak

  The sunlight had all but gone by the time they slung themselves onto the covers, the orange and cranberry sky replaced with the gentle twinkle of a starscape so vast above them.

  They both laid there in the stillness of the moonlight, gazing up while their thoughts wandered from pinpoint to distant pinpoint, a light breeze sweeping through the tree limbs like distant ocean waves.

  “Ady,” Gage whispered in her ear, “I've been meaning to ask ya what your tattoo meant.”

  “Oh pillow talk, eh? I was beginning to wonder if it wasn't up to par,” she joked, her voice going into movie-narrator mode. “After all, it is simple in comparison to the elaborate etchings found upon THE mighty Gage Crosse.”

  He moved in to punch her arm in slow motion, making a soft exploding sound. “Damn right I'm mighty,” he agreed proudly, “but in all seriousness, I've been meaning to ask since seeing it up close, and with all that’s happened, it slipped my mind. Call it the bunyip effect.”

  “Well, there's not a huge or profound meaning behind it,” she admitted. “I got it as a symbol of the infinite love I have for things like family, especially my mom.”

  “Ink that represents love is the best kind in my opinion,” he replied, “and the most profound.”

  “I suppose so,” she hesitantly agreed. “Even though she didn't like me ‘marking myself up’, it was the least I could do to show how much I cared.” Her eyes dropped forward toward the house before she continued. “My family didn't have the easiest life, even before we were targeted by a coven, nor the biggest house. All I remember was Mom busting her ass each and every day after Dad was… gone… to keep us fed: me and my brother.”

  Gage moved a hand under her neck and patted her head, again feeling her soft hair through his fingers. He didn't think he could ever get tired of doing that.

  “Moms tend to go out of their way and leave that effect on us,” he told her softly. “I miss mine.”

  “And I miss mine too,” she said, returning her gaze skyward; the stars looked incredible and so clear.

  “So while we are on this subject,” she interjected, “spill it on the rest of your ink. I'm curious.”

  “Who me?” he asked facetiously in a high pitched voice. “The mighty…”

  “Don’t do it,” she warned, knowing what was coming next.

  “Gage,” he continued. Oh yeah, he was going to do it.

  “I mean it,” she reiterated.

  “Crosse,” he hissed, extending the last part out as if he were a snake.

  She reached over to his nipple and pinched it with a hearty twist.

  “Ow! Fine,” he groaned, crossing his arms while using the inside of his forearm to rub the soreness out of his nipple. “Geez, ya little minx, I guess we’ll start right there then. I got the arm sleeved up first as you know, but the chest piece was done around the same time I had those angel wings inked down my back in the fall of 2013.”

  “These two pistols represent both of my parents,” he continued, pointing at the right one. “That one’s for Mom and this other one’s for Dad. They represent their fighting spirit as they struggled for their lives against Noctis… and lost. I had the artist put them on a bed of thorns since the pain always eats at me, but they also sit surrounded by three roses, representing the three of us, plus they were Mom’s favorite as you're intimately aware of.” He looked her way and threw out a wink before drawing his arms back behind his head.

  “And the script?” she asked, scrolling across the words ‘Death Fears Me’ that were inked in black on his upper chest.

  From the outside it may have appeared like her three simple words were asking about another three simple words, but the meaning in these carried great personal significance to him; a great weight.

  He quickly grew silent.

  “I didn’t mean to -”

  “Nah, it's okay,” he reassured her, taking a deep breath as though he was hesitant to say anything, “just been a fair while since I've had to think about this.

  “It was back in early 2014, just before meeting you and Joey. I was on the trail of a mothman that was making Kentucky its bitch. I was just passing through when I heard a story come across local radio that caught my attention: pale skin, red eyes, yada yada. I thought it was very weird that one of them was so far west, so I got really interested really fast. Knowing what we know now about the Noctis, factions, and movements it makes total sense.

  “Anyway, long story short it was indeed a mothman and I managed to put it down after quite the fight outside Louisville. When all was done, I tore out of Dodge and was in a pretty bad mental state from the battle - we had locked eyes a couple of times too many. That's when I didn't notice the kid crossing the street in front of me. He was no more than ten years old I would guess, so young and innocent.”

  There was a long pause.

  “I… I hit him going about forty-five… sent him clean out of his shoes and down the road a stretch.”

  Adrienne felt tears welling up in her eyes as she saw a glistening kaleidoscope forming in his.

  “So,” he continued cheerlessly, “I stopped the truck right away and ran over to tend to him as he laid there dying. Dying because of me.”

  “But it wasn't you, Gage, it was -”

  “The mothman’s fault?” he snipped, a hand pounding back against the makeshift pillows. “No, that fucker was dead and I was the one behind the wheel. I tried to stop the bleeding, poor kid, but it was too late. Or so I thought.

  “As we sat there in the middle of the street, a hooded shape formed out of the nearby shadows and approached. It stood, well hovered as there were no feet, and just looked at us in the bright sun. Its silence was the creepiest thing. I thought it was a demon at first, but it didn't want to possess either of us and there wasn't any telltale smoke or sulfur.

  “When it finally said something, I gotta say it was like all the warmth around us was sucked up into its faceless hood and I could see my own breath even though it had to be in the upper sixties that day.”

  “What did it say to you?” she asked, wide eyed.

  “I’ll never forget it,” Gage said before he put on his best scary voice, which was much scarier in his mind, and went on, “I am the living death and the death of the living. I am come for the soul that is owed us this moment.”

  “Death?!” Adrienne gasped. “What, as in the Grim Reaper? Skull face, black robes and all? You're pulling my leg.”

  “Always the tone of surprise,” he replied. “He did vaguely look like that, but was… different. All I know is that Death was there, in the flesh.”

  “I know, I know. I'm just… Wow, okay.”

  “That's not the best part,” Gage said sheepishly as Adrienne grew afraid to hear what he had to say next. “As the boy was laying there, I offered my own soul up as a substitute. Now don't look at me like that; I was tired, Ady, and at quite a low point.

  “Death reached out to me with his bony fingers and I closed my eyes awaiting my fate, but he stopped just short of my face, refusing to take my soul with him. He told me it was not my time and that he would also spare the boy’s life for the lack of fear I showed that moment. With a wave of his hand my addled state of mind was gone and then he said that he feared me: a man that did not show fear of death but respected it. He finished by saying neither Heaven nor Hell could console me for the things coming ahead.”

  “Gage, I… I had no idea.”

  “We all keep a lil bit of ourselves hid from the world, Ady. I know you have secrets locked up inside, too. For fear of not letting people know them, for weakness, for pride, whatever. All I ask is that ya don't think less of me.”

  “That’s definitely true,” she agreed with a sigh, “and I certainly don't think any less of you. Do you know when… your time will be?”

  “No, he didn’t tell me. Suppose it’s because we aren't meant to know ahead of time.”

  Silence grew between them for a good ten minutes.

  “I love how meaningful
all your ink is to you,” she told him, breaking the silence to continue the conversation they had started. “Are the wings similarly so?”

  Gage had somewhat recuperated and his eyes playfully darted from hers to the sky and back again. “Dammit I wish,” he admitted softly, “but I just liked the way they looked on my back.”

  “At least you're honest,” she said with a giggle as his hands came down over his eyes like a ‘see no evil’ monkey.

  “The rest of ‘em aren't that meaningful either, more for utility really, except maybe the one on my quad.” He then pointed over to the pentacle on his left shoulder, flexing with a mind of its own as soon as attention fell on it.

  “That's an easy one. It's for protection against evil,” she recited as if reading out of a textbook, “and thou shalt be assured that no enchantment or being, magical or otherwise, shall hold sway over the bearer of this mark.”

  Gage laughed, pointing to the gash on his brow. “Either mine’s broken or something must've been lost in translation, but that sucker delivers one hell of a burn to any supernaturals that touch it.”

  “So do the runes around it do anything or just add to the ‘mighty’ factor?” she asked, knowing that Futhark runes generally did imbue qualities such as luck, strength, and defense to weaponry and standard seals.

  “Honestly, I added those since they looked cool around it,” he confessed. “It's the entire set of runes, so I'm sure if something was working, it's probably being cancelled out by something else.”

  “I knew it!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together as if she had won a bet. “I'll have to tell Joey when I see him.”

  Gage raised a brow again. “Say what?”

  She stuck her tongue out at him and he responded by kicking the sheets off his left leg. Their fall was delayed briefly by a gust of wind, showing a clear and lingering view of the sleeping giant before settling back over him, leaving his meaty thigh displayed in the cool light.

  “Just for that you're going to have to translate this last tattoo all by yourself, darlin’.”

  She propped herself up and gave the leg a good once over. Futhark runes ran horizontally in several short lines spelling out some sort of spell or phrase. The symbols were resting atop scalloped clouds shaded in the background, which flowed along the defined peaks and valleys his muscles formed. She brought a hand down to help study the runes as if they we written on a delicate scroll and the fibers involuntarily flexed under her touch.

  “Now let's see,” she stated confidently. “It looks like we have a Bruce Lee fan here ladies and gentlemen. Seems to say: ‘Do not pray for an easy life, pray for the strength to endure a difficult one.’ Am I right?”

  Gage kept his mouth shut.

  “Haha. Love it,” she said, leaving her hand to linger there on his quad while starting to trace its way up along the deep lines.

  “Well that's enough looking for you,” he said in fun, pulling the covers up high. All of him was encased in a fluffy cocoon except for his beaming face, white teeth shining with a light all themselves.

  Adrienne repositioned herself to stare directly into those emerald pools of his, caressing him on the chest and rubbing his tender nipple.

  He unfurled an arm out from under the blankets and rested it next to hers.

  “I know I can come across as a big badass,” he stated, half expecting another love tap from her. “Someone that can handle themselves and loves to be alone. Reality is, that's as far from the truth as you can get. Being alone… it scares me.”

  In a heartbeat her hand nestled itself into his again and she looked up, unbelieving of how clear the stars managed to get out here.

  “Gage,” she said back, “we've journeyed together for a while now, mostly working and placing the safety of others ahead of our own feelings. It does makes it worthwhile, doing it for those you care about… those you love. But I’m glad our feelings for each other are finally getting acknowledged and we’re acting on them. Life is a lonely road, but only until you find someone to travel with. My road, no our road, is a lot less lonely now.”

  Gage hadn’t ever considered it that way, always shoving his own feelings on the back burner in the hopes of not getting them hurt.

  “Well then, I can safely say that I'm not afraid,” he declared.

  “Goodie for me,” she acknowledged, again looking at his irresistible face.

  He returned the glance and laughed. “Oh really now? Just for you?”

  “Yup. You are very attractive, sir,” she mentioned casually.

  “Damn right I’m your ‘sir.’ Ya better get used to calling me that,” he commanded. “I think I like it more than Gage now.”

  She nodded. “Oh you won’t have to worry about that, sir. I’ll continue to stare; it’s kind of involuntary at this point.”

  He smiled that unbelievably charming smile one more time as he lifted her hand up in front of them. “Well take a sec and look at this,” he said, keeping their hands out. “See that right there? Since taking everything from me, and I mean it all, I’ve become the best at haunting the dreams of monsters. Now I have someone to haunt them with me. Plus, if things went to hell and ended at this moment and I never got to see anything else in this fucked up crazy world, know that I have all I need in this life right here, right now.”

  Her grip tightened, a single tear escaping her eye. “Yup,” she said. “Everything.”

  As their hands fell back to the truck bed, they both drifted to sleep underneath the canopy of twinkling stars.

  Gage coughed. “You forgot to say sir.”

  ADRIENNE WAS AWAKENED BY the morning sun dancing on her eyelids as it filtered through the canopy overhead.

  Apparently, she had kicked off most of the covers during the night. Gage was notorious for being a scorching furnace and as such, holding onto him for any length of time under a massive stack of blankets would have been a death sentence, or at least a good way to lose a good bit of excess weight. Speaking of that grizzly beast, she prodded the man shaped mound of cloth beside her and discovered that he was already gone. Par for the course, she took a final stretch before tossing the sheet aside to start the day.

  Leaping to the ground from the tailgate, her bare feet hopped across the craggy gravel before cuddling up to the carpet-like grass. A little too much winter blew by, forcing her to tiptoe back and reach into the truck to snatch up something to cover herself with before making her way toward the house.

  When she reached the picket fence, a lone figure standing out by the pasture caught her attention. Coming around the porch line and into the back yard, she could now make out that it was Gage propped up soulfully with his elbows on the metal gate.

  He was looking off into the distance, mind wrapped up in a secret thought, so she found the nearest tree and huddled against it to admire the view while making sure not to disturb him. Perhaps the sheet around her had grown a bit too effective, but it was getting ridiculously hot. It had to be the sun, now peeking over the trees to the east; that was as good an excuse as any.

  Calmly he shifted in her direction, the dreamy amber glow settling across every detail from his naked, arched back down to his lower, jean enclosed curves. When their eyes finally met, they didn’t need to say a single word, yet spoke volumes.

  In her heart, Adrienne knew at that moment it was going to be a great day; the most perfect day.

  “Good morning dear,” he told her, his voice having a sexually charged raspiness to it. Turning fully around, he placed the small of his back against one of the metal bars and a bead of salty sweat left the center of his chest on a journey down beneath the sweet lines of intimate denim.

  “Morning to you, too, mister,” she replied while gliding up to him, throwing her arms around his neck as her feet kicked back off the ground. The sheet fluttered around her like an elegant white dress as their lips met.

  “Don’t think I’ll ever tire of that,” he said when they finally pulled apart.

  “Good thing,�
� she replied, tapping a finger across the middle of his lips. “I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

  He wrapped his stalwart arms around her, drawing her to his side as they settled back on the gate together, admiring the house in its provincial glory; so warm in the morning shine.

  “I managed to get the utilities back on,” he murmured in her ear, slowly raising his voice to match his elevated mood, “but the house is in a kind of ‘low power’ mode: the lights are on, but aren’t going to get very bright and the large appliances won't be working for us at all. I’m sure we can find a way to get the coffee pot working though, if a three-year-old blend tickles your fancy. Let's see, I also got the pumps fully operational and, oh, you’re gonna love this: there’s even hot water available through the solar heaters. Thank you, Dad!”

  “Oh that’s fancy,” she said earnestly, thankful that there was an opportunity for a relaxing soak in the near future. Nothing beat that feeling of hot water on the skin, especially after a long stint of road travel; it seemed no matter how long a trip lasted, it always brought the same level of muckiness along for the ride.

  Yet the harsh reality of all this fanciful daydreaming about steaming baths underneath dim lights hinged on them actually being able to open the door, and when they last attempted it that was still a no go.

  “That sounds fantastic, but are we any closer in figuring out how to get in?” she asked pragmatically, the ‘we’ undoubtedly meaning ‘you’ in this case.

  “That happens to be what I was mulling over when you came by,” he answered. “I sent Joey a text last night with a photo of the ward, hoping he could help me figure it out.”

  “And… he was able to?” she asked with a little apprehension. Even though she said there was no rush last night, the mere mention of hot water earlier made her realize just how dirty she had become.

  “Yeah, thank God. Seems I had the right idea, doing all those circus acts on the porch. As entertaining as that was, I was forgetting a key part of the deal: the passphrase. J called it an ‘amalgamated ward’ or something technical like that, so it needs all the different elements to be in play correctly and at the same time for it to work.” He paused to toss a pious look her way, “Trust lil’ ol’ me to mix shit up from different cultures when I drew that out. At least the phrase isn’t a long one: same number of words as triangles within the circle.”