Remedy Maker

by Sheri Fredricks

  His chin dropped to his heaving chest and Rhycious covered his humiliated face. Nausea would be the coward’s way out. He hoped for cardiac arrest.

  Though he pressed his fingers against his eyes, images reeled in his mind. The Wood Nymph defense force, human hunters. He saw their misshapen faces as fragment pictures through time, eyes wild, mouths laughing. Other battles joined his fragmented memories, the wounded—and the dead.

  Cold sludge threatened to wash over him in a wave, sweeping him away forever. He almost wished it would if it’d hide him from the disgust he’d find in her eyes. It made his hands tightened over his face; he wanted to curl into a sad, pathetic ball.

  Patience’s voice came to him, a heavenly soloist. “Rhycious. Sweetie, open your eyes and look at me.” The ground crunched beneath her feet as she stepped toward him. “Please, Rhy,” she whispered. “I need you. I love you.”

  If he looked at her now, he’d see pity in her eyes. Hatred, anger, even disgust he could handle—but not her pity. His mind spun a fast and furious tornado around the fact he’d held a knife against her innocent throat.

  And didn’t that just beat all. What an all-time asshole he was. “I should take the sharp edge to my own neck and be done with it. What a piece of shit I—”

  “I’m safe.” Her lovely voice cut through his self-abuse, as if she’d spoken inside his head. “You saved me. Now please, gods, save yourself. Don’t let go.” Her voice hitched. “Don’t leave me.”

  A part of him wanted to slide off the cliff and fall deeper into the vortex of insanity. To inhabit the perfect world his irrational head created. Just like his fucking nightmares. How effortless on his part. It would rinse over him and then he’d be mentally gone. No more battles to fight, no more love to forsake.

  His control bent, bowing under the trembling weight of reality.

  “Hey! I’m conversaten with you. Least you could do is damn well listen-up. I knew you were arrogant, but you’ve never been a rude ass.” Softly she added, “You can beat this.”

  Huh? That certainly wasn’t pity in the screeching voice he heard. “Woman, leave me. I almost killed you.” Rhycious shook his head and whispered, “I’m tired.”

  “Oh, shit. You don’t know what tired really is.” Little rocks and bits of twigs struck him. He dropped his hands to gape up at her. Dust floated in a fine cloud between them.

  Darkness rushed to the outer frontiers of his mind and vanished in a blinding flash of light.

  “Did you . . . .” He glanced at the Bowie lying in the dirt, covered with debris. The same mess littered his thighs and shirt. “Are you kicking dirt at me? What the hell?”

  “Sorry. Opposition reflex.”

  Okay, she’s pissed at me. Gods she’s a Venus when she’s angry. Arms folded across her chest and locked tight. Not a trace of dreaded pity. She looked like a schoolgirl wearing his exercise shorts, her hair flowing, skin flawless and smooth in the sunlight.

  Rhycious brushed off his pants and shirt, and slowly rose on shaky legs, the scabbard dragging a scratch line in the dirt.

  “I thought they’d taken you,” he said. Eyes the color of a high mountain lake gazed intently into his, right into his soul. He held her unwavering stare, wanting her to see the black ugly cesspool consisting of his sine qua non. “I would kill them for that.”

  Patience waved away his explanation. He took hold of her wrist on the second hand sweep and turned her palm over. A nasty slice crossed her palm, the edges inflamed and swelling. The injury, however, appeared clean and ointment applied.

  “Believe me, I got the understandability,” she said, taking a half step toward him. “You’re tired and the scaredom is bangin’. But you’re stronger than you realize and a better man than you think. You can kick this off the trail for good. Rhy, pull back from that edge.” A perfectly formed crystal tear tracked its way down her cheek. “Please. Do it for me, for your patients, for yourself. Pull a fro. You can do it. I know you can.”

  As a testimony to filling his boots with their original brainwaves, Rhycious understood every word Patience said. “There was blood on the window.” The tremors slowed, his pulse and breathing regulated. “I didn’t know if you’d been hurt—or worse.” The bar graph of his anxiety was still off the charts.

  Rhycious fixed his gaze on her wound, stroking her wrist, refusing to meet her eyes. He leaned toward her, feeling strangely disoriented, frail. It was as if some dynamic electrical power had swiftly drained from his body.

  Patience shouldn’t have to share the burden of his emotional fuck-up. It was his responsibility. He only hoped he could shrug it off before he completely buckled beneath the load.

  “I’m okayriffic,” Patience said softly, covering his hand with hers. “I snuck out the bedroom window, got a hurt attack in the process, and visitated someone’s granny in the meantime. She fed me cookies and fixed me up.”

  Lifting his chin to meet her eyes, she nearly bowled him over with her crooked smile. He dropped her hand and opened his arms, relieved when she walked willingly into them. If it were physically possible, he would have wrapped himself around her twice and drawn her body inside of his. The Centaur in him wanted to protect her, take her back in time to prevent her kidnapping, from witnessing what she had just seen.

  Rhycious wanted many things—to be stronger, whole, the kind of man who might have a future with a woman like Patience. But he contented himself in knowing she was alive and safe.

  “Polytima,” he whispered, burying his lips in her hair. His body trembled from the internal battle he had waged. Forcibly, he lengthened his breath from the short, shallow gasps he took. Tears squeezed through the barricade of his lashes, and he tightened his arms around his heart’s anchor. “S’agapo.” I love you.

  A blue jay flew overhead, splitting the air with sharp cries. Trees shook their leaves like mini tambourines. Rhycious held her, alternating fervent kisses to her cheeks and soft mouth, trembling from the sweet taste of her. The faint scent that was wholly Patience filled his senses. He breathed it in, addicted. With shaking hands, he stroked her silky hair, smoothing it down her back.

  “Rhycious?”

  “Um-hm?”

  “It’s fandoodlytastic having you hold me like this.” She rocked a little in his arms. “But do you think we can go home? I feel like every tree is watching us.”

  Rhycious pulled back to gauge her expression, insecurity stabbing him one last time.

  Her twinkling eyes smiled back.

  “Let’s get out of here.” He swung Patience up into his arms, nestling her close to his heart. Amid long, purposeful strides on legs growing stronger with every step, he carried her away from the scene of his breakdown, and into the healing woods. Every step taken in the new direction filled his mind with rehabilitated strength.

  On silent feet, he wound their way through the thick tangle of trees. She laid her head against his shoulder and her arms wrapped his neck.

  Rhycious marveled at the sense of protectiveness he held for her and his renewed courage to heal himself.

  Love. He may have whispered the word in the dark while she slept. But he normally shied away from the intense emotion, rather than embrace it. It was a rusty sentiment rarely used. His discovery that he still had the sense of love left a foreboding effect, as if he’d just sentenced himself to an emotional exile.

  Would life always be a fucking battle for him?

  Twenty-Eight

  “Where are we?” Patience pulled her arms tighter around his neck.

  At the edge of the woods, holding her in his arms, her slight weight reassured him she was alive. He hugged her all the more tighter.

  A large red barn with a green roof and white trim rose with imperial grace surrounded by fragrant alfalfa fields. The barn’s double doors were thrown open, allowing light to flood the interior. Across a well-kept staging area stood a white two-story home with a gable that matched the barn’s roof.

  Rhycious gave Patience a long, leveled
look, lips pressed to a flat line. His reason for the drop-in visit, and the excuse he’d give Patience, parked at opposite ends of his conscience. And his gut warned him—the less she knew, the better it’d be. He gathered her slim body closer. Right now, it was all about keeping her safe.

  “We’re at Samuel’s farm. I need to ask him a favor.” He made for the barn and soon heard a whinny call out.

  Readjusting his hold on Patience, reality weighed him down. Though she wouldn’t appreciate what he had to do, there no time to argue his reasoning. So much ate at his conscience, it was a wonder he’d pulled back from insanity’s edge this time around.

  “Patience, I’m sorry. I thought I’d finally gotten a handle on my problem.”

  Tender fingers touched his face, drawing his gaze to hers. “You do have control, don’t you see that? Check it out—before I’d said anything, you were already coming out of it.”

  He kept walking, mulling her words. “Pan’s hooves. More than anything, I want to believe you.” His mouth pulled to one side and he shook his head. “But I won’t take a chance on hope when your life is at stake, not with the evidence at hand.” His knife—and not just any blade, but his fucking Bowie—had been at her throat while reality took a hike. “You’re in more danger being with me than you are from any human.”

  Patience shook her head vehemently. “You’re wrong, Rhycious. I don’t know how, but I’ll prove it to you.” She squirmed in his arms, her body rubbing at his armor. “Thanks for the lift, but you can chuck me now. Don’t know why you’re carrying me anyway.”

  Because you’re real, a tangible weight in my arms. “I like where you’re at.” And he did. “Besides, you’re injured.”

  “It’s my hand.” Her musical giggle flowed over his shattered esteem, mending the torn edges.

  Rhycious figured he’d find solace in gathering his herbs this morning, as he always did. But when he’d brought out the clippers and snipped leaves and stems, he’d felt nothing compared to the tranquility he’d found in Patience’s arms. It was the kind of peace he never expected to find.

  And he had better get used to the unwelcome heaviness. The one place where he’d finally found solace would be lost to him soon enough. For her own safety, he had to retreat from the love Patience offered him, from the quietude his fractured mind cried for.

  Before he accidently killed her with his bare hands.

  Despair cut deeply—a terrible wrenching sensation. The pain thrust so far inside, it was as if a vital chunk of him ripped out.

  Had he travelled on hooves, the ascent up the knoll would have only been a few lunges. On two legs, it took twice as long and ten paces. Off to the side, near the huge barn doors, he gently lowered Patience’s feet to the ground. Immediately he moved his body between the barn and Patience, shielding her if anyone other than Samuel was inside.

  “Samuel?” Rhy peered into the interior. The black buggy stood parked on the right, and a harness hanging neat on the wall.

  “Guten tag.” Sam stepped from the back of the barn into the flood of bright light, brushing his hands together. “Nice to see you this afternoon, Patience.”

  Rhycious watched the wary appraisal Samuel gave his battle-worn body protection. The Amish man’s gaze flicked from him, to Patience, and back again. Conclusion drawn, he motioned them deeper into the dimly lit structure.

  His Centaur eyes adjusted quickly to the interior’s change of light. They followed Sam to where a dun colored draft horse stood tied to an iron wall ring. Samuel’s black hat hung from a nail.

  “You appear overly dressed for a social call,” Samuel said, patting the large horse. He slid his hand down the front leg of the horse. “Easy now, Tiny.”

  “Got your note. Any more hunters nosing around?”

  Samuel shook his head. “None that I’ve seen. But the horses tell me different.” His hand poised at the fetlock, Sam gave a squeeze, and Tiny lifted his hoof. “They’ll stand and stare into the trees like something’s out there.”

  Patience stepped forward and stroked the gelding’s sleek neck, then inhaled with her nose pressed to his hide. “Oh bejebus, you smell good.” She patted the horse, turned her smile to Rhycious, and winked. Facing Samuel’s backside, she continued. “They hit up Rhy’s place while he was out this morning. I had to ditch out the back window and play hide and seek by myself.”

  Sam pressed his thumbs to the bottom of Tiny’s platter-sized hoof, and then carefully let it down. He straightened and turned to Patience, brows lowered. “Did they break in?”

  “No.” Rhy answered. “But I have a feeling they’ll be back. Once that damn hunters’ society thinks they’re on the trail of something, they rarely back off.”

  Patience sighed and put her hands on her hips, facing him. “What can we do about it?”

  “We aren’t doing anything.” He barked. “I’ll handle it.” Directing his attention to Samuel, he asked, “Can Patience stay with you while I make a sweep of the area?”

  Color leeched from his friend’s ruddy cheeks, and his throat bobbed before answering. “Yes, of course.” Sam turned to Patience. “You’ll have to excuse me if I suddenly require you to hide.”

  Rhycious rubbed his hand over the star on Tiny’s forehead, then bent to breathe nose to nose with him. He closed his eyes and opened his mind, gathering the information from the picture that formed.

  Rocks under hooves. The weight behind the harness. Samuel’s concerned face.

  When he communed with horses using his equine half, the tickle of a reversed chill ensued. Tiny bobbed his head as Rhy adjusted his stance and stepped back.

  He reached to shake hands. “Thank you, Samuel. Knowing how dangerous this is for you, I appreciate your help.”

  Rhy wrapped his arm around Patience’s slim waist, and all three walked toward the barn doors. Dust motes in streams of sunlight danced in kicked-up currents of air. An orange barn cat walked toward them with its tail straight up, meowing.

  He would have preferred to keep Patience glued to his side, but that was impossible. Samuel’s farm was the next best place to stash her while he swept the area clean of hunters. Concern for her climbed higher, tormenting him as he thought of every possibility he may have overlooked.

  A few feet from the doorway, Rhy kissed her on the lips, relishing her taste on his tongue. When Patience threw her arms around his neck, Samuel smirked and looked away, scratching the back of his neck.

  “I’ll be back soon,” Rhy said. “This won’t take long.”

  The sun warmed his face as he strode out of the cool barn, away from the unlikely pair who watched him leave. He pulled an elastic band from his pocket and fastened his hair into a tail.

  Across the alfalfa field, the tree line showed no movement at ground level. The wind however, blew the upper branches into dancing waves. He rolled his neck, loosening tense muscles in preparation for the sweep.

  He swiveled to pass a message, his heel digging into the soft earth. “By the way, Samuel. Tiny has a rock bruise on his hoof, that’s all. It’ll heal in a day or so. Just give him an extra can of oats tonight to help speed his recovery.”

  On cue, Tiny’s whinny resonated out of the barn. Rhy cupped his hands around his mouth and whinnied back.

  Samuel narrowed his eyes at both of them.

  Rhy turned and faced his destination, jogging down the grassy incline. He heard Sam ask Patience if she were hungry.

  “My sister dropped off freshly baked bread this morning. Let’s go in for lunch.”

  “Now that’s what I call cool by association.”

  Their voices faded away and he directed his concentration to the woodlands and the familiar road home.

  It was his second time down the same road in one day. At the meadow, he stopped and studied the area where he had picked Echinacea hours earlier. Bees floated from one wild flower to the next, pollinating with heavy yellow legs.

  Rhycious dogtrotted toward his cabin, one hand holding his throbbing temple. A
sense of panic he’d held inside suddenly sprang up and he realized there was no escape. He could remedy until the next dawning of Aquarius and the suffocation would still be there, waiting for the perfect moment to torture him. Even if he drank himself unconscious, the PTSD would still come for him through the fog of oblivion.

  If Patience hadn’t talked him back from—

  “Rhycious!” Sides heaving, the sorrel body of the warrior, Dryas, came into view. He stepped out of the woodland shade to the sunlit path, leather body armor creaking with every drawn breath. The soldier spoke quietly, relaying his message with urgency. “I’ve been dispatched to carry a message. Templar Khristos wishes to have an emergency meeting with you, sir. You’re to come right away.”

  “Gamóto.” Rhy cursed under his breath. Then he said it again louder, crying out his fury and frustration. “Gamóto.” Damn. A seedling pine grew near the path’s edge and he grabbed it, intending to pull the sprout from the ground, roots and all.

  A soft breeze rustled through the trees, and with it came an image of Patience modeling his nylon shorts. Her ingenious strapless blouse fluttered across his mind like the boundaries of the fabric she’d worn. He released the pine stalk one finger at a time. For all he knew, the immature tree could be a Wood Nymph child.

  Gods, I’m losing it.

  Chunk by shredded chunk, he pulled together the remnants of his dignity, squared his hunched shoulders, and took a deep breath. Dryas waited patiently, his hand resting on his sword hilt and tail flicking away the springtime flies.

  “Thank you, Sergeant. I’ll need my remedy bag.” Rhy pointed toward his cabin.

  “There’s no need.” When Rhy cocked a brow in question, the sergeant explained. “This isn’t a medical emergency.”

  The younger Centaur turned an eye to Rhy’s cabin, then into the shaded forest beyond. Always alert and sharp. If I’d been more vigilant, I would have seen Dryas coming.

  Shit. This day was going down faster than a thirsty Centaur with a cold beer—and didn’t that just piss a non-drinking guy off.