Scent of Danger

by Autumn Dawn

  Fiercely, Mathin clasped on him the arm, gave him a nearly bruising squeeze. “Never doubt it.”

  Minutes later, lying flat on a body-sized anti-gravity platform with hastily rigged ropes for his hands, Mathin gave a sharp nod. He would be virtually defenseless as they sped by the Haunt in the woods, but at least he presented a difficult target. He only prayed that his wife wasn’t being hurt.

  The cycle eased out of the gate, gathering speed as it headed up the road through the village. Naked fields flashed by as the woods edged closer.

  “Hang on!” the Ronin tossed over his shoulder, and suddenly they were flying.

  Eyes narrowed against the wind and flying insects, Mathin felt the rope bite into his wrists where he’d looped it. He held on as best he could with the toes of his boots against the edge of the platform as the cycle began a series of fast maneuvers around the trees that blurred past. The slight lip on the edges wouldn’t prevent him from flying off on one of the turns if he weren’t careful.

  As if to prove his point, the platform took a sharp dip, then leveled with a jarring thud before fishtailing alarmingly. “Watch it up there!” he shouted, raising his head to glare at the crazy driver. Eyes tearing from the wind, hair tugged by its greedy fingers, he swore as the platform bounced. He’d kill this man! That opinion changed as he got a glimpse of what all the fuss was about.

  Ranged on every side, dark waves of Haunt filled the woods. Silent shadows fired on them as they sped past. Seriously tempting death, the Ronin never slowed, banking around trees and crashing through lesser brush with a skill that filled Mathin with grudging respect.

  The man could ride.

  A blue beam of light slashed through the forest gloom and hit the Ronin’s arm. He cursed and the symbiont cycle wobbled, but didn’t slow. Mathin’s respect for the man doubled. It had been a wicked hit, and had to hurt, but he stayed the course. It reminded him of why the Symbionts had proved to be such powerful opponents during the Symbiont Wars.

  A wry smile tugged up a corner of his lips. He wondered what the Symbionts called it. The Haunt Conflict?

  All humor evaporated as another lucky shot glanced off the edge of the platform, frying his right wrist and singeing the rope to a thread. Agony shot through him as he forced his hand into a claw and gripped the corner of the platform. If he fell off now, the Haunt would make certain he never got up.

  Andrea could die.

  At last they broke through the enemy ranks, gliding smoothly over a river and up the gravel bank on the opposite side. The Ronin put a good quarter hour between them and the enemy Haunt before he slowed to a brief stop. “You going to live?” he asked as he dismounted to check Mathin out. His Symbiont was wrapped around his injury, already healing it.

  Mathin slid his chaffed wrist out of the rope loop and flexed it. “Yes.”

  The Ronin eyed Mathin’s blackened wrist. “Was that your fighting hand?”

  The smile Mathin gave him was grim. “Don’t worry. Either hand works for me. I can still kill the man who took my wife.”

  “Good.” The Ronin took a length of rope from his cycle and fastened another loop handle to the platform. “Let’s ride.”

  They traveled for hours, to the very edge of the swamp and an hour into it. By the time they began to slow the light was growing poor enough to trouble human eyes, but the Ronin didn’t seem hampered as he dismounted and rummaged in his gear. “Here.” He withdrew some flatbread, dried meat, fruit and nuts and gave Mathin a share. “We need to eat.” He took a long drink from a canteen and then passed it over.

  Mathin gratefully took a long swallow, wiping his mouth with the back of his good hand when he was done. “And then?”

  There was a short silence as the Ronin tore off a strip of jerky with his teeth and chewed. “It looks like the kidnapper was joined by others, then took a boat downstream. There’s a ruin nearby that makes a very logical rest stop. Since we aren’t sure how many there are, Jackson surrounded the area with our men in a loose ring. A Haunt could slip through, but not carrying the women.” His smile was humorless. “He thought an agreeable Haunt with night senses could be an asset for taking out any sentries as we moved in.”

  “He made the right decision. I’d have killed him if he hadn’t alerted me.” Mathin crunched his dinner as fast as he could. Time was of the essence.

  The Ronin dropped a small container of whatever he was smearing on the flatbread and bent to pick it up. It was full dark by then and thick clouds covered the moons. Mathin suspected it was too dark for normal human eyes.

  “See rather well yourself, don’t you?” he asked softly. He fingered the hilt of his blade, but made no move to draw it.

  The Ronin eyed him coolly. “So I do. What of it?” He rolled the container in his hand.

  Perversely unwilling to let it go, Mathin asked, “Scy?” Not long before he would have sworn he had no interest in the man, but now…

  His half brother inclined his head and then went back to what he’d been doing, ignoring him.

  Unsure what to say, Mathin finished eating. This was no time or place for weighty discussions. Perhaps there was never a time. And why did the knowledge of this man’s bloodlines affect him, anyway? He’d hated his father for more years than he could count, had never felt more than a vague ache at times that his sister had become what she had. This unlooked for urge to know more about Scy mystified him.

  Better to keep his mind on their mission, he told himself. Three lives depended on it.

  Andrea spent the most miserable night of her life on a cold stone floor. A lichen covered, gritty and occasionally buggy stone floor. At least she wasn’t chained to it like Leo. No doubt her obvious weakness had spared her. Too exhausted to run and far too ungainly to sneak away, her Haunt guards had barely spared her a glance when they’d deposited them in here.

  Shivering as much from the spookiness of that as from the damp chill, Andrea glanced toward the dim light coming in from the single exit. A brackish puddle had collected in the sunken depression under the stone tiles, and it reflected a bit of the light and the occasional shifting shadow of a guard. Odd how she’d never felt so wary of her Haunt, but then they’d gone out of their way to put her at ease. There was nothing remotely friendly about these dark warriors.

  Every now and then Leo would stand up to stretch, but her chains didn’t allow her to lift her arms past her hips. The bolts in the floor were very solid—she’d tugged on the chains enough that she’d bled, trying to loosen them.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Startled by Leo’s soft words, Andrea squinted at her vague outline. “Why? This isn’t your fault.”

  “Had I been with you, been more alert, I might have stopped them.”

  A soft snort asserted Andrea’s opinion of that. She knew what a Haunt could do. “My friend, even if you were G.I. Jane, I doubt you’d have done much damage. I’ve seen these guys in action, remember?”

  “Still—”

  “Let it go,” she advised softly. “Guilt will get us nowhere. Right now we need to think about surviving.”

  As if reminded of Andrea’s condition, Leo’s hand reached out in the dark and grasped her own. Their symbionts—Andrea’s was almost regrown—linked, and soothing strength flowed from Leo to her. Refreshed, she sat up. “Thank you.” The need to comfort washed over her, and she squeezed Leo’s hand. “You’ve been a good friend to me. The best.”

  A return squeeze was Leo’s only answer. There was a muffled sniff.

  Before Andrea could say more, the sound of voices and the tramp of boot heels on stone alerted her. Someone was coming.

  Mathin, still in Haunt, lay next to Scy in a forgotten airshaft above the chamber where the women were being kept. A Haunt in human form had just entered below them, and his words carried clearly to their ears.

  “So this is my brother’s wife.”

  Mathin stiffened. Beside him Scy’s breath caught. So this was their other brother.

  The big m
an looked down at Andrea, who tried and failed to stand. They couldn’t see his expression, but his stance spoke of contempt. It almost broke Mathin’s heart to see her sink down as if defeated. Jackson had better hurry to get in place, or he was going leap on the bastard from here and rip out his throat.

  A cruel laugh came from the stranger’s throat. “Not much to look at, are you, little charmer?” His head moved toward Leo and he looked her up and down. “But you...you have possibilities.”

  Scy shifted forward, but Mathin caught his arm and squeezed in warning. Not yet. Scy subsided, but tension radiated from him as he sighted his laser rifle on their brother. Mathin’s hands were occupied with the coil of rope that would give them access to the room below.

  Unaware of his danger, the black-haired man continued to taunt Leo. “When I heard the rumors of Mathin’s wife’s abrupt disappearance, and then rumors of a pregnant stranger in your settlement, I knew I had to investigate. And look what I found.” He fingered Leo’s hair, laughing when she jerked away. “Now I have a charmer to toy with for as long as I want. And since there’s no profit in you since my dear sister Yesande died, I can keep you as long as I like.”

  Leo tried to lash out at him with her symbiont. With lightning speed he drew his energy blade and lopped it off.

  Leo hissed as if in mortal agony.

  “Behave, woman.” He drew the edge of his humming blade over her thigh, parting the cloth to her groin. A sizzle of flesh and her gasp indicated that he’d deliberately scored the skin. Leo’s symbiont rushed to heal it.

  He watched as if fascinated. “Do you know how to rid a woman of her symbiont so you can take her? Mathin the Mad knew. Simply slice it away bit by bit,” his blade lopped off another chunk, wringing a cry from Leo, “until just enough is left to heal her for your next round.”

  Gunfire exploded in the hallway, distracting him just as Scy fired his rifle. Simultaneously, Leo kicked him in the groin. Mathin threw the rope down and launched himself over the side, rappelling rapidly toward the bottom, Scy right behind him.

  Scy’s shot had hit his half-brother just above the heart, thanks to Leo’s synchronized assault. It glanced off his body armor, but did slow him down.

  It didn’t save Leo from a wicked backhand with the hilt of his blade, however. The blow caught her under the jaw and sent her flying back, only to be jerked to a halt by her chains. Unable to break her fall, maybe unconscious as well, she dropped like a rock. Her head hit the ground with a sickening crack.

  Mathin’s feet hit the ground and he launched himself toward him. A snarl of outrage came from Scy at Mathin’s back, but he only had attention for their enemy. And as he watched, the man changed.

  Only this change was nothing like that of a full Haunt. Instead he became a hideous mixture of wolf and man, a were-thing with long, scraggly hair and patches of naked flesh. Abnormally long fangs gleamed yellow in his elongated jaws, and his eyes gleamed pus-yellow with red pupils.

  Revolted, and more than willing to put the monster out of his misery, Mathin engaged.

  Blue lightning snapped and fizzled around them as swords sliced the air; deadly cuts that would slice their opponent in half when they connected. Around the edge of the puddle they danced, each eager to draw blood.

  Tonight a Haunt would die.

  “Can you help her?” Andrea tried to control her shivering. Scy kept one eye on the swordsmen while his symbiont worked on Leo’s head. Still unconscious, she didn’t move.

  “I’m trying.” He handed a gun to her. “Fire if you get a clean shot. If anything happens to Mathin, you won’t have time for more than one. Got it?”

  “I—yes.” Determined to control the contractions that squeezed her lower belly, she tried to keep her eyes on the fighters. It wasn’t easy. Not only were they moving in a virtual blur, but the cramps distracted her. They didn’t feel like the false contractions that had squeezed her whole stomach as the pregnancy advanced. No, these were lower, more intense. They felt like they meant business. Please, God! Get us out of here.

  Something happened—Mathin’s boot must have caught in one of the cracks in the broken paving stones. There was a snapping sound, and he went down. His enemy’s blade went for his neck. Mathin parried.

  And suddenly Scy was there, a katana-like energy blade weaving like St. Elmo’s fire, interfering with the monster’s blade and luring it away while Mathin freed himself. Balanced on one foot, Mathin withdrew his own gun and stood ready to aid should Scy need it.

  He didn’t. As relentless as death and hurricane-swift, he wove a dizzying lightshow around the were-beast that was every bit as skilled as Mathin’s. Fireworks exploded from their dueling blades, then the were-beast staggered. Scy’s blade leapt forward and impaled itself deep within the monster. Without a trace of remorse, Scy held it there until it had sizzled a black hole within the body cavity, burning away lungs and organs. The stink of burning hair and charred meat filled the air, and the were-beast’s eyes dimmed, then finally went dark.

  He was dead.

  For a moment nobody moved. Then a group of Ronin, led by Jackson, ran through the doorway. Jackson skidded to a halt, the rest of the men panting behind him. “Anyone need help?”

  Retracting his blade, Scy gave him a curt nod. “Leo.”

  As the Ronin swarmed around Leo, Mathin, now changed, hopped over to Andrea. She could see the lines of strain around his mouth and eyes. “How badly are you hurt?” she asked, concerned.

  “Broken ankle. It’ll heal. You?”

  She gasped as another contraction hit her. “I think I’m having this baby.” And wasn’t that a fine way to end the day?

  Unable to lift her, Mathin suffered Jackson to carry her out of the room while two Ronin helped him to follow. More Ronin followed with the monster’s decapitated body—always a wise precaution when dealing with a Haunt—and the unconscious Leo.

  “Breathe, Andrea.”

  She reared up on her elbows and glared at Scy, who was stationed at her feet. “I am!”

  “You can do it, Andrea,” Mathin said at her elbow.

  “Shut up!” In the worst agony of her life, she couldn’t believe that Mathin was cheering her on as if this were a sporting event. Another painful contraction hit her and she screamed.

  “Don’t push!”

  Push! I’ll show you push, she thought, but didn’t have the breath to say it. She felt the painful pressure as Scy checked her cervix for dilation, and cried out at the additional torture.

  “Okay, you can do it. Push, Andrea!”

  More demands. Wanting nothing more than to get this baby out, she let her body do what it had been fighting to do for the last half hour. She pushed. And felt the burn as her baby was expelled.

  The baby was very quiet as it lay in Scy’s arms. Then it opened its eyes, took one look at him, and began to cry.

  Mathin smirked. “At least we know he has good taste.”

  Later, as Andrea lay on the bed in a blissfully un-pregnant state, she turned her head to smile at Mathin, who also reclined on the bed, cradling their son. His ankle had been set, and he seemed glad of the excuse to lie beside her, doing nothing.

  He smiled back. “He looks just like me.”

  “Heaven help us.”

  His face serious, Mathin carefully eased the wrapped bundle between them. He propped himself on one elbow to watch them both. “Would you object if I were to tell you this will be the last child of our bodies?”

  After the nightmare she’d seen today, Andrea understood his feelings perfectly. “No. But I’m glad he’s here.” She took his hand. “I’ve missed you, Mathin.”

  A kiss as soft as a dove’s wing demonstrated his heartfelt agreement. “The days could never speed by fast enough, and my nights lasted forever.”

  Ah, yes. That’s what a woman wanted to hear. Content just to be near him and too exhausted for long conversation, she snuggled down and just enjoyed for a while.

  Just as she was about to drift off,
Mathin said in a contemplative tone, “I thought we could name him Roxtan.”

  Her eyes flew open. “You are not naming my baby Roxtan. Why not just call him Conan the Barbarian, if you’re going to do that?”

  His eyes narrowed in annoyance. “What would you prefer?”

  “How about Alexander?”

  The disgusted face he made gave her his opinion on that.

  “Okay, how do you like Maximilian? Max for short.”

  Mathin snorted. “That sounds like slang for a body part you haven’t seen in far too long. Definitely not.”

  Peeved, she said, “Herbert then.”

  “Her-bert.” He turned it over on his tongue.

  “That was a joke, Mathin!”

  The day after Andrea had her baby, Mathin received good news. He limped into Leo’s spare room, in the process shaking Andrea from a light doze. “Look at this!”

  He thrust the missive he carried with him into her hands. Accustomed to reading Ronin script for the last few months, she blinked at it.

  Without waiting for her to actually read it, he told her, “Jayems finally ignored my messages to stay away and brought reinforcements. Between him and Raziel, my cousin’s forces were routed in a day.” He frowned. “I only regret I wasn’t there to deal with him.”

  “You were busy.” She scanned the note. “Did Keilor stay home, then?”

  Mathin’s sudden stillness boded no good. Taking her hand, he placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “He stayed home with his wife, my love.” His tone became sorrowful. “They lost the baby.”

  The color drained from her face. “No,” she whispered, and slumped to the bed. Tears welled in her eyes. Jasmine had been so happy!

  He didn’t try to make it better with platitudes, just held her. “I know.” He rubbed his face against her hair. “I know.”

  She grieved, but even as she cried for her friend’s loss, in her heart Andrea had to wonder. Had the baby been lost because of some unavoidable defect, caused by the mixing of such alien blood? Might the child have been born a monster? Much as she loved her son, she was glad they’d decided that one was enough. This tempting fate business wasn’t worth it.