Riftkeepers: Pursuit

by Carrie Whitethorne

  Finally, over. We're finally done with him. I wonder if Klara killed him or if he's stuck up there bleeding slowly to death? He deserves to suffer, evil bastard.

  She looked back to Zander as the earth began to tremble.

  The locals will think it's a small earth quake or something. The sooner its down the sooner we can go home.

  Rocks began to come loose from the mountain top, rolling down the steep face. She assumed they'd block the cave entrance before the whole thing began to come down, and tilted her head back slightly to watch.

  If he is still alive…

  Morbid curiosity or her own need for confirmation of his death, she didn't know, but she sent out her power to find him. Up and in it crept, seeking his consciousness. Using her memory of the cave layout she knew where to send it.

  Through the tunnel, turn. Down that tunnel. Turn.

  Down to the small room he'd been secured in.

  There. He's still alive!

  Making sure she hadn't alerted the others, that Dane wasn't watching, she grasped his mind, watching through his eyes in the dim light of a flame Callan had left there. As the walls in the chamber shuddered and cracked, the trickling water on the walls came faster and faster, the sediment rock higher up disturbed. A low rumble from below crept closer as Zander pulled his power up through the layers of rock far below.

  The floor split, running through the small chamber, breaking through the walls, a chasm opening inches from his feet. Meg's body slid into the fissure and was swallowed by the gloom.

  Strangely, he didn't struggle. He made no attempt to get away, made no move to pry the daggers from his body and flee the cave. He was calm, waiting.

  He can't be waiting for death, can he? After all that, he can't have just given up? What was the point?

  The ceiling of the side room was coming down, as Zander worked up through the structure to weaken it. The roughly hewn arch of the doorway creaked under the pressure. Looking around through his eyes, she could see nothing but pitch back.

  The ceiling began to fall in large, heavy chunks as the structure shifted under Zanders influence.

  Time to go, I don't really want to watch this.

  As she prepared to withdraw from his mind, she felt another presence.

  What's that? Is that what happens to us as we die? Do we hear and see things that aren't there? Some sort of comfort from our minds to make it easier?

  The presence grew, filling his mind, it whispered, “I'm coming. I can help.”

  However much she wanted to, she couldn't pull away, transfixed as the scene unfolded. Rocks fell, water coursed down what was left of the walls as the light guttered out and he stood perfectly still, waiting in the darkness. A shadow, a hand against his cheek. The hot, white pain as Callan's daggers were wrenched from his body, echoed in her own as she watched intently from within.

  The shadow hissed, dropping the daggers to the ground as though they were aflame. A strong, slender arm under his left, he was hauled into an upright position and was gone. Wherever he'd been taken, it was too far for her to follow and she was slammed into her own mind with dizzying speed.

  Someone took him. Alive!

  Breathless, her pulse racing, she turned and looked back at Zander, he looked exhausted. Dane was busy watching the mountain. Callan murmured something in Zander's ear and he pushed harder into the ground with his hands, tearing at the grass. With a final burst, there was an audible boom that shook the ground beneath their feet and the mountain began to topple.

  “Time to go,” Callan said. “Thank you, Zander.”

  Dane walked to her quickly and took her arm, “The others are waiting at your house.”

  She opened her mouth to say something and closed it again.

  No, it sounds crazy. He's gone… that was all in his mind, he must have just died as you were watching and that's what threw you back.

  Looking to Callan and Zander, she smiled weakly and watched them go. “Okay. Thank you, Dane. For all of this.”

  “Nothing to thank me for, you did the hard work. If we'd had to take him on we'd have been burnt to cinders,” he said, tilting her chin and rubbing a thumb along her jawline. “Let's get you home, wash this shit off your face.”

  She'd expected to arrive in the lounge and sighed with relief when she realised she was in her bedroom. Dane released her and sat on the bed. “Are you sure you don't want some help?”

  She faced the full mirrors of the wardrobe doors, staring in horror at the amount of blood that covered her face, neck and chest. Her tunic was still open from the chest up where Callan had torn it open to examine the wound on her shoulder, the back vest she wore beneath stiffening and sticky with drying blood.

  Running her dust and blood encrusted fingertips over the cracked and flaking leather of her tunic she said, “I don't know. I want a shower.”

  The longer she looked, the more nauseous she felt, looking at the blood, blood her husband had spilled, that coated her exposed skin. She shrugged off her tunic, letting it slide to the floor, then took the vest down over her waist, the pain in her shoulder too great to lift it over her head. Looking down, she noticed her pendent. Caked in blood, she couldn't see the diamonds inset in the jet. Her underwear was ruined.

  “I'll send Callan up to help,” Dane said quietly.

  Alone in the room, she stepped closer to the mirror to inspect her shoulder. Sliding her bra strap down, she gasped. The tiny movement sent a raw, stinging pain through the whole of the area. The laceration was fully healed thanks to her power, but the skin was a spider's web of black lines spreading from the top and around down the sides.

  Dane can fix those, I hope. Alayna can make sure the bone is repairing. The rest is mine to handle.

  You hit a whole new level of messed up today, Charlotte. You're as sick as they are.

  I suppose anyone would be that angry though, if it were their kids. Doesn't excuse it though.

  Callan watched her from the corner of the bed. He'd changed into cropped joggers and a t-shirt. His throat bobbed as he tried to say something.

  “I'm fine. Is Zander okay? I didn't want him seeing me covered in blood like this. He'd never sleep again.”

  He nodded, his eyes glistening, cleared his throat and said softly, “Let's get your hair washed.”

  She followed him into the bathroom, stopping only to take off her pendent and moonstone bracelet, leaving them by the sink. Callan turned on the bath taps, pouring something foamy under the running water, then crossed to the shower and turned on all the heads, returning to her with a towel. Helping her out of her clothes, he said, “I'll give you a minute, get you something to drink.”

  When he came back, she was under the shower, sobbing as the blood washed out from her hair in a cascade of crimson. Without a sound, he lathered and rinsed her hair in a rich shampoo that smelled of strawberries and vanilla. His soft, gentle touch massaging the pain, guilt and terror away. Slowly, patiently, he rubbed every trace of the evenings events from the length of her hair then moved on to her face and body. Gently, carefully, he removed all traces of blood with a soft cloth and sweet-scented oil. Once the water ran clear he lifted her gently and carried her to the bath.

  “Drink this,” he said, his voice low and gruff. “I'll brush out your hair.”

  She barely felt a thing as he tenderly smoothed out her wet hair. She sniffed the contents of the glass and took a tentative sip.

  “It's just brandy,” Callan laughed gently. “I'll get you something to eat when we're done here.”

  He kissed her lined shoulder and pulled her hair back into a neat braid. “Now lie back and relax. It's almost six. Zander's asleep on the sofa, Dane's asleep on the other. Alayna should be here in an hour or so to fix this.” His fingers traced her collar bone, then down to the map of lines left by the Daeva talon, the corruption and filth embedded in her skin. “Dane can sort that.”

  She nodded. “Thank you. Not for this, for… for Meg. I couldn't do it.”


  “I didn't want you to,” he said with a thin smile, taking her empty glass. “I'll come back and help you shortly.”

  Sinking back in the hot water, she closed her eyes.

  I know he isn't dead. How, I've no idea but I know he didn't die… that isn't how you die! Dying doesn't involve other people. Dying is something you do alone. I've done it. Nearly. No-one came for me. Not in my head.

  Unless they knew that wasn't it, so no-one came because they didn't need to…

  Who would go for him anyway? That sort of evil deserves to die alone.

  The more she considered what she'd seen, the more convinced she became.

  Robert is not dead.

  They won't believe it. They're too busy worrying to even consider the possibility. They want to get Carlie laid to rest, to go back to their lives.

  Having enough of the bath, she rose onto her knees to get out, using her upper body as little as possible, the slightest movement was so painful. She tried healing the break herself to no avail.

  What's the point in having all this power, in being able to heal myself if I can't sort a little break like that?

  Unable to get the towel around herself, she shrugged on a dressing gown, gripping it closed with her good hand and stepped into the bedroom. Callan sat on the edge of the bed, spinning her engagement ring in his palm. “I was convinced you were going to die tonight,” he said, not looking up.

  “Why?” She asked, running her fingers through his hair.

  “Because that's what happens when a Daeva sinks its filthy claw into you.”

  “I didn't, I healed myself and I'm fine. Callan, I'm fine. We're all home safe.” She paused, seeing Carlie in her mind. “Carlie.”

  “Dagda's a mess.” He said sadly as a single tear slipped down his cheek. He left it, letting it drip from his downturned face. “She was seven when she attached herself to him at a party. She made him train her. She never left his side. They've been together all those years…”

  She pulled him into her, the movement stinging her shoulder. “Where is she?”

  “At the Palace. We'll take her home later. Here,” he placed her cleaned rings back on her finger.

  “Thanks,” she smiled, admiring them. “It's going to be another long day, isn't it?”

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “At least we're all together. We should get ready.”

  Kissing her gently, he got up to help her dress.

  Chapter 32

  Peering over the back of the sofa, she watched Zander sleep. Callan had covered him with a light blanket and put extra logs on the fire. She crept out trying not to wake Dane, sprawled on the opposite sofa. He'd changed into joggers and a vest and was tangled in a throw.

  What would I do without Dane? That's twice he's saved one of us. All right, technically Vlasta found him but…

  She found a mug of tea waiting for her in the kitchen. Callan had prepared a simple breakfast of fruit, meats, cheeses and pastries. Enough for everyone they expected that morning.

  “Where did you find this lot? It's only just gone seven,” she asked as he sat her up on the seat.

  “Just the supermarket,” he shrugged. “Five minutes in the shop, five minutes opening packets and putting it on plates.”

  Smiling, she spooned fruit onto a plate and grabbed a croissant.

  Callan looked up, “That's Ferne. I'll tell her to come straight down so you can talk before hell breaks loose.”

  She'd forgotten all about her visiting friend. Carefully pouring tea with one hand, she prepared a plate and waited for her to come down.

  I should tell her. I spent enough time guessing round half-truths, I don't want that for her.

  “Morning,” she said brightly. “Wow, thanks Callan. This looks amazing!”

  Callan smiled and said, “I'll leave you too it. I'll won't be far if you need me.”

  “What's wrong?” She asked through a mouthful of fruit.

  “Well, you know they're, Fae?” she began.

  Ferne nodded. “The ears are a constant reminder,” she said, and continued eating.

  “Well, there are other things we haven't told you yet. So, if you can just sit quiet for five minutes, I'll tell you quickly, then we're all on the same page before Dagda gets back.”

  Glancing sideways at her, Ferne asked, “Why am I worried already?”

  “Nothing to worry about. It's sorted,” she said. “We'll start with me. I can do this.” She summoned a tiny flame and set it on the worktop in front of Ferne. Ferne almost choked on her breakfast. Charlotte wasn't sure if her silence was because she was listening or terrified. She snuffed it out and continued before the questions had time to form in her friend's mind. “It's called shadow-fire, it's dangerous, I don't like it but I'm stuck with the power. Next, it's the kids. Just like Dagda uses air, Enya uses water and Zander uses earth. In fact,” she paused frowning. “Zander knocked down a mountain at four this morning because I told him to. Yes, we're that messed up.”

  Ferne giggled, despite the seriousness of it all, “I've missed you.”

  I can be myself with you. No airs, no graces.

  Charlotte smirked her and went on, “Next, we've been hunting down my dad, Robert.” Ferne shuddered at the memory of him. “He's… was a warlock, he was using shadow-fire too and he was trying to take over the world. Prick. So, we went out last night and killed him. He killed my mum, turned her car over and left her to die, it was worth it just for that to be honest.” Ferne's eyes bulged at her admission. “And, yesterday, he killed Carlie. That's been… well that's been a shock to us all. None of us expected to find her there. Dagda's in a bit of a state. Any questions?” She took a long gulp of her tea and waited.

  “How?” she asked around a mouthful of strawberry.

  “He was playing about with magic years before I was born, somehow it passed into me at conception or something. Anyway, I'm this all-powerful thing, now. I don't even have a title. He was a warlock, they're Fae, the others are Druids and I'm just this freak of nature.”

  That's it. You're. An accident, unnatural. A monster. That's how you did those things.

  “No, how did you kill him?” She wiped her mouth with a crooked finger, checking for crumbs, and picked up her tea.

  Charlotte, surprised at the question, said, “Oh, I blasted him with shadow-fire, Callan and I pinned him to a wall with daggers through each shoulder and Klara gutted him, I think. She paused and shook her head. “I wasn't there for that bit. Zander collapsed the mountain on top of him for good measure.”

  Ferne looked utterly confused. “Right. Why? Why not just lock him up?”

  Charlotte took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in her shoulder, and explained, “He kidnapped and nearly killed me last year. Then kidnapped Zander a few days ago, his little tart sliced his head open and then tried to hurt the rest of us, I lost my shit.” She shrugged, “I didn't want him alive, not after everything he'd done. You're taking this well.”

  “I'm not,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I just don't understand. I don't know what to say to make you feel better,”

  “Nothing to say really, is there? Anyway, I'll be fine. It'll be a rough day. If it gets too much, I'll have someone take you home. You're welcome to stay though, I'd like you to stay,” she assured her, then smiled. “I don't know if we'll see Dagda today or what sort of state he'll be in if he does turn up though. He and Carlie were really close friends.”

  Ferne frowned, “What happened to her?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “I don't want to talk about it just yet. She was my cousin and…”

  Ferne thought for a moment and said, “Okay. Can I do anything?”

  “I don't know. It all feels a bit odd at the minute. Sort of, numb,” Charlotte admitted. “I'll probably shake it after a good night's sleep.” She knew that wouldn't really help, nothing was taking this away, but Ferne seemed happy with the explanation. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It's all been a bit mental recently. I wanted to find a better way of t
elling you than how Callan told me.”

  Ferne laughed, “How did he tell you like?”

  “Pretty much how I've just told you, then he evaporated in the middle of the living room. He left me standing there thinking I'd finally lost my marbles.” She smiled at the memory then began to laugh.

  “Yeah, when Dagda showed me, he knocked a glass of wine over with it and spilled it all down my boobs,” she giggled.

  “Sounds like Dagda,” Charlotte said, fondly. “He's a good man, Fe. Look after him.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I will,” she said, a smile twitching the corner of her mouth as she sipped her tea.

  Dane walked into the kitchen, one hand up scratching the back of his head and yawning. “Callan asleep?”

  “No, he's in the office. Don't know why, he never goes in there. You okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, needed that hour though. Let's have a look at your shoulder,” he said. Noticing Ferne, he smirked and said, “Morning, did you sleep well?”

  “Oh, yeah, Dagda drugged you last night to keep you down while we went off playing dungeons and dragons,” Charlotte informed her, rolling her eyes.

  Ferne laughed, “After everything you've told me, good!”

  “I need help out of this,” Charlotte said, fiddling with the zip of her hoody. Ferne helped her and gasped when she saw the network of black lines. “What did you do?”

  “Stabbed by a demon. It broke my collar bone. I'm okay though, Dane and Alayna can fix it between them.”

  “Oh, is that all? As long as you're okay,” Ferne said sarcastically, returning to her seat.

  Dane turned her seat round and shifted the strap of her vest down to her elbow. She hissed but sat still so Dane could see.

  Keep it down this time, twitchy.

  Shut up and fix the damn mess.

  Ferne watched intently as he ran his fingertips over the marks, gasping as they faded with each pass. “That's amazing,” she whispered over and over.

  Dane smiled. “Another one tomorrow and that'll be good as new. You healed yourself well.” He returned her strap to her shoulder and helped her back into her hoody, and said, “I'll go and see Callan.” He swiped a pastry and padded out of the room.