That was his right. Also his problem. I stepped around him, but not before I gave him a look that could’ve scorched the earth he stood upon.
Dal immediately took a step back. “Callon might be right. It can be an intrusion.”
I took another step toward her. “I don’t have any secrets. And as to what I see, which I’m sure Dax has told you, I can share it if you’d like, or not. That’s your choice.”
She nodded and closed the gap between us. Nothing. I couldn’t see her death, and my shoulders relaxed. There’d be nothing to tell if she asked, and I hadn’t realized until that second how badly I didn’t want to tell Dax when his wife would die.
As to what she saw, that was a different story.
I still struggled with keeping my emotions off my face when I read a death, but she was a pro. Callon had said she was older than she looked, and he must’ve been right. There were no gasps of horror, and my past could easily elicit some.
I was also adept at what to look for. I knew the signs of seeing the worst and having to hold it in. I wondered which horrible vision she’d seen. Was it one of the vicious beatings, or the day Maura died? If you asked me which memory was the worst, there wouldn’t have been a second thought. When one of the only people who’d ever shown you kindness or love in your life disappeared, there was no worse agony.
Her eyes flickered away but then came back to meet mine. I could hear Callon’s steps on the wood planks as he stopped beside me, his hand landing on the small of my back as if that was where it belonged.
“Did you see my death?” Dal asked.
“No. I’m not sure why, but that happens occasionally. I can’t see theirs, either,” I said, motioning between Dax and Callon.
There was a look that passed between Dax and Dal that made me think they might’ve known exactly why I hadn’t. They didn’t offer an explanation.
“Would you like to know what I saw?” Dal asked.
“No. Whatever it was, I’ve already survived it.” I didn’t need to relive it. Didn’t need to have a conversation about it, either.
She smiled, as if she understood all too well. If I hadn’t known she was a Plaguer, and all that came with it, I would’ve doubted the empathy I saw in her expression. That scar on her hand told me this woman had been through some of her own hard times. She must’ve survived one of those asylums that used to exist in Newco. That was where most Plaguers used to be sent. If she had, what she’d seen in my past wouldn’t be that much worse. Who knew—I might’ve had it easier.
“Why don’t you come in? You’ve got to be tired. The lodge is a long way from here.” She smiled again, like it was easy for her, a thing she did all the time without thought. If she did have a dark history, she’d moved beyond it. She’d cleansed it from her psyche somehow. It didn’t haunt her at night, stomping all over her soul in the dark, stealing her dreams when she finally collapsed in exhaustion.
I’d gone a lifetime believing my soul would be scarred forever. Her smile gave me hope.
“Come on,” she said, walking into the house.
The inside was even better than the outside had led me to believe. There were colorful woven rugs over wide-planked wood floors. Furniture that was worn enough to cradle you was placed in front of a fire that would warm you on a chilly night. There were blankets folded to curl up under and pillows to prop up your head.
“If you’re here, I’m guessing you haven’t had any luck with the Hell Pits?” Dax asked.
“Unfortunately not,” Callon said.
“Dax, let them get settled first.” Dal laid a hand on Dax’s chest. “Bitters won’t be back until tomorrow, and we can talk after they have a moment. We’ve got one bedroom open upstairs for Teddy, and I can put you in one of the cabins, Callon.”
I’d gone from a strong, confident woman with hope, who didn’t care what anyone knew about her past, to feeling my entire body seize up, wanting to wrap myself around Callon’s leg if he tried to leave.
Breathe, for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t like he’d be far. He’d be a stone’s throw from here. I could probably look out the window and see him at night. This wasn’t an issue.
My lungs refused to work. I had to at least pretend to breathe so I didn’t look a fool. The way they were eyeing me made me believe they were catching on anyway.
Callon’s his hand landed on my lower back again. “We don’t want to put anyone out. We can share. It’s not a problem,” Callon said, his hand sucking all the tension out of my muscles as he spoke.
“Are you sure you’ll be comfortable—”
“Dal, let them be. That’s how they want it,” Dax said.
“Oh, okay. Do you want to go up now and take a nap before dinner?” Dal asked.
I was already halfway to the door when I answered, “That would be great. Let me just go get my bag.”
Callon followed me outside. I made it to the bike, ignoring the occasional looks from people farther away, all wondering who the newcomer was.
I was fiddling with the knot when Callon moved my hands aside to do it. I would’ve been able to do it easily if my insides didn’t feel like they’d been tossed in a barrel and rolled downhill. I wasn’t sure if I was angry at Callon for being ashamed of me or thankful he’d saved me from humiliating myself. Or was I pissed at myself for caring about either? That was the problem with burying your emotions for most of your life. When you had strong ones, it was hard to determine where they were coming from.
I stepped closer and watched as he undid the knots, debating whether to say something about what he had done. It bubbled up anyway. “Why did you try to block Dal from seeing my memories? Are you ashamed of me?”
His eyes flicked toward the house and back, letting me know that we might not have the privacy I thought.
I didn’t care. For me, this conversation didn’t need it. If he had something to say, he could say it aloud for the world. My past was horrible and an all-around mess, but it was my mess. It was me, where I came from and who I was.
He grabbed the bags and took a step back toward the house. I grabbed his arm, refusing to let him walk away that easily.
“I’m not ashamed of who I am or what I’ve been through. My life was agony, but I survived it. I was forged in the fires of hell, but I’m still standing.”
“I’m not embarrassed of you,” he said, in a whisper that somehow seemed like a scream. “What I think is that it’s personal. You should share what you want to share, not because someone can tinker around in your head.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He scoffed. “What a surprise. I’d be insulted, but you don’t believe anyone, do you?”
He went to walk away again, and I got in front of him. “Why should I? Because everyone is so trustworthy? As if they aren’t having conversations about how life would be easier with me dead?”
“Maybe because I’m the one saving your ass all the time? What about that? Is that a good enough reason?” He didn’t bother whispering this time. I was fairly certain he’d given up caring who heard.
He tossed our bags on the porch and walked away from the house.
Twenty
Everything about the place was homey. From the curtains in the bedroom I was in to the way the wood banister was worn to a patina. I loved how the stairs dipped in the center from so many footsteps as I made my way downstairs toward the smell of food.
The house was empty except for sounds coming from the kitchen as I continued to follow my nose. Dal was pulling a roast out of a wood oven.
“Do you need help?” Dal had mentioned dinner earlier, right? They were going to feed us, hopefully?
“No, all done,” she said, placing the big pan on top. “Fudge taught me how to make this a very long time ago,” she said, staring at the big hunk of meat with a bit too much emotion.
“Fudge?”
She nodded, a wistful smile on her face. “She’s gone, but she was like a mother to us all here. She’d make this dish right around t
he first frost, when the nights were cold enough that all you wanted to do after sundown was curl up by the fire with people you love. Now I make it. Somehow it feels like a little piece of her is still here with us when I do.”
I leaned back against the counter as she scooped juices out of the pan and poured them over the meat. Dal seemed to have an iron will. She might be small, but she was a fighter. It exuded from every short inch of her. She might enjoy making a roast, but I wouldn’t let that fool me into thinking she couldn’t kick some ass if needed.
“So, you and Dax have this house all to yourselves?”
“Oh no, we’re usually packed. You came at an odd time. Bookie—who’s like a brother to me—is a digger. You know, someone who likes to dig up old pieces of history? He’s out at a site and won’t be back for another week or so. Tank went with him to help. He lives here too, and has been with Dax for longer than I can remember. Bitters also lives here, but he’ll be back tomorrow. He went to go…” She turned to me and shrugged. “Actually, I can’t tell you where he went. He disappears without a word, but he’s never gone longer than a day.”
She moved the roast to a plate and then heaped some creamy potatoes in a bowl beside it, smiling. “Just like Fudge’s,” she said softly to herself. She walked to the door and waved to someone. “Sit,” Dal said, pointing to a chair at the table in the next room.
Dax walked in the back door, looked at the table, and smiled. “Just like Fudge,” he said, running his hand over her shoulder.
“First frost.” She closed her hand over his briefly before he moved to the seat on her right.
Callon walked in a minute later. I wondered if he’d take the seat the farthest away from me.
He took the empty seat beside me. My lips parted, but then I closed them. He gave me a slight nod. I returned it. We’d have a truce, at least through dinner.
“So how bad is the upheaval in Newco?” Callon asked, as if he were picking up a thread of interrupted conversation.
“Bad enough that they’ll be warring amongst themselves for quite a while,” Dax said.
“Would you like some bread?” Dal asked. She still had the basket in hand when she continued, “Dax told me about the Hell Pits. Did you bring a sample for Bitters?” She was looking at our bags as she asked, as if she wanted to tear them open.
“We did.” Callon dug into his food, making no effort to go fetch the sample, even though it was in his bag sitting right by the door.
Dax barely gave it a second before he said, “I’ve never examined the stuff up close.”
Callon stiffened. “Looks like mud.”
Callon didn’t want them to see it. He was afraid it was going to follow me around the room like always. I was sure Dax had already told Dal that it pointed at me. This wouldn’t be a surprise, and it wasn’t something that was avoidable. They’d see it once Bitters got here anyway.
And maybe, this time, it wouldn’t follow me. It had a full-blooded Plaguer right here. If it liked me, it might love her. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?
I skidded back my chair. “I’ll go get it.”
Callon stopped eating. “We should wait until Bitters comes.”
“Dax already knows, and he clearly tells Dal everything, so she knows too.” I stood and walked slowly away from the table, watching Callon for any sudden movements. He leaned back in his chair, watching me. I’d gotten past the first hurdle. Callon wasn’t tackling me on my way to the bag.
He wasn’t smiling, but neither was I. It wasn’t something I was looking forward to, but I’d rather get it over with. And there was a very real chance it would have a new favorite after today.
I opened the bag and unwrapped the cloth that cradled the jar. The sludge was already leaning toward me. Or was it leaning toward where Dal stood behind me?
I picked it up and checked the seal on the lid, which appeared to have an even heavier layer of wax than last time I’d seen it. Still, I kept my hands toward the bottom. Didn’t want to encourage it to break free.
I’d never walked with more caution in my life. They were watching me as I returned, the table already cleared in preparation. I placed the sealed jar on the table, near Dal. It hit the wood with the thud of a boulder. If it were attracted to my Plaguer ancestry, surely it would prefer first-generation blood? She had to outrank me with that.
Callon remained seated, an elbow on the armrest. Dal and Dax were out of their seats, bending over to examine the stuff.
“If I hadn’t seen the Magician getting eaten up by it, I’d think it was a hoax,” Dax said.
Dal reached for the jar and then held it closer to the oil lamp in the center of the table.
“Be careful,” Dax said.
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of dropping this stuff in my home,” she told him, keeping two hands on the bottom of it.
There it was, a pure Plaguer, holding it. I began inching away in a different direction, hoping it wouldn’t slither over with me. The farther away from Dal I moved, the more it shifted in my direction. How could this be? It had her! I wanted to take the jar and yell at it.
I’d hoped this was going to go differently, but I was beginning to realize that hope was a useless emotion that set you up for failure. Expecting the worst was a much better way to prepare yourself for reality than all this ooh, wouldn’t it be nice crap.
Thankfully, I’d almost completely given up on hope. If I hadn’t, I might’ve been more disappointed.
Eyes darted to me. Callon stood and moved closer to Dal and Dax, which conveniently put him in between us.
Dal passed the jar to Dax. He spun it around until all the stuff was furthest away from me. We all watched as it slithered right back toward me.
“What do you think the draw is?” Dal asked, still looking at it.
“I was hoping it was my Plaguer blood, but that doesn’t seem to be the case, since you would surely have the stronger draw.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, belatedly realizing that I was now mimicking Callon’s stance. I crossed an ankle to change it up a little.
“And nothing kills it?” Dax asked.
“Nothing kills it or stops it. It defies gravity to get to her,” Callon responded, his hand going to the back of his neck.
“Dax talked to Bitters,” Dal said. “He didn’t have any ideas, but he’s never looked closely at a sample. Hopefully with this he might come up with something.” She shot me one of her hopeful smiles.
I wanted to tell her to stuff it. I was done with that crap. Hope wasn’t worth a damn. I didn’t say it, though, because the bed upstairs might’ve been the most comfortable thing I’d ever lain on. I’d tell her tomorrow as we were leaving where she could stick her hope, right after I ate some more of her roast for breakfast.
Or maybe I’d say nothing. She seemed nice. I just wish she’d stop with all the good thoughts. I didn’t have time for that nonsense.
“Do you know if there’s been any change in the Hell Pits near here?” As soon as the question was out of my mouth, a look passed between Dax and Dal that made me wish I were sitting again. What did they know? The longer they took to answer, the worse it was, and it seemed there was a silent debate going on. Maybe it wasn’t who would answer but if they’d answer at all.
“What is it?” Callon asked, more impatient than I was for once.
“I was going to mention it later,” Dax said.
“When I wasn’t around?” I asked.
Dal took a step toward me. “Dax, she has every right to know.”
Dax’s jaw shifted, sort of the same way Callon’s did when he didn’t like what he had to say. “There’s one several hours from here. I haven’t been out to see it in a bit, but I have people keeping me posted. It’s been slowly migrating in a northwesterly direction.”
Was that bad? What did that mean? I didn’t even know where northwesterly was. Callon knew, but he wasn’t speaking.
“Can someone please tell me what that means?” I asked, turning to Dal
.
Dal stepped even closer. She lifted her hand toward me and then dropped it, as if she’d read some back off expression on my face I hadn’t been aware of. She clasped her hands together, as if to keep them from touching me.
“The lodge is northwest of here. It’s been moving toward you,” she said.
Twenty-One
I turned over so many times that my feet had to fight for freedom from the blanket. The bed was still amazing, but it didn’t seem to matter. Callon was missing, and with the newest revelation, there’d be no sleep on the horizon.
How could I sleep when there might be nowhere safe on this earth for me? I thought if I found a way to leave Callon, got away from the lodge, and kept going, I’d find a safe place, somewhere. But if a Hell Pit days away was moving toward me, there might not be anywhere I could go that would remain safe.
This was it. If Bitters couldn’t help, I’d be on the run from these things for the rest of my life. I’d be damned to the life of a lonely wanderer because I couldn’t condemn anyone else.
It sounded like these things had been around for years. Why did they want me now? Why couldn’t they have overtaken the village when I’d been miserable and wishing for death more days than not? What had changed?
Why now? Why? What had changed?
The witch, that day in the tent, when she’d used my magic. I’d never killed anyone before. If I could’ve saved someone, I would’ve saved Maura as I held her hand for days as she died. She hadn’t only used my magic. She’d woken it up somehow. And now? It was going to be the end of me.
I got up, wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, and made my way down to the back porch. I settled onto the bench. Winter here was nothing like the cold I was used to. The trees were barren and there was a chill, but not the bone-deep freeze of up north, or “northwesterly,” as I now knew it to be.
Savage One: Born Wild Book Two Page 13