Nightwalker
Page 14
Yet here was this man…a man who had taken nothing for himself and strove with all he had to give, searching for answers and solutions to the danger he said was coming.
But how did she know it was true? How did she know he wasn’t simply blowing the seriousness of the situation out of proportion?
Well, the Doyen’s response for one. He would never have entertained Kamen’s presence if there wasn’t something serious involved. And he would never have sent her with him, for all she was a half-breed. She had this much to say about the Wraiths, they protected their own—no matter how diluted their blood.
No. The Doyen was worried. He wanted to be left alone, left out of the whole business entirely. That would be the safe thing to do…only he had come to realize there would be no neutral ground in this battle. The Wraiths would be the deciding factor and it would all come down to which side they chose.
Kamen realized this, she was aware. He understood that sacrifices would have to be made, and he was willing to make them. So if he was willing, then she had to be willing too. And she would be willing. No matter how much it all frightened her, she would give no less than he did.
She didn’t know why exactly. It wasn’t as though the Wraiths had ever been kind to her or made her feel welcome. But she wouldn’t wish harm on anyone. If something she did could protect her mother and those of her cell, well she owed them that much for giving her a place to live, didn’t she? She may not have been welcome, but she had been fed and clothed and housed in safety and relative comfort all these years.
The spell ended with a sudden whoosh of air punching out from the center of the circle, blowing out the candle. Kamen sagged for a moment, then picked himself up, getting to his feet with only the slightest hint of unsteadiness. He straightened and tugged on the sleeves of his button-down shirt, organizing himself in appearance as well as mentally and physically.
“Did it work?” Viève asked anxiously.
“It worked. There is a large group of Phoenixes in Brazil, in an area just west of the Rio Braco do Potinga. I can streak us there in a matter of minutes.”
He took a step toward her and suddenly pitched forward. She hastily crossed into the circle and thrust her body up beneath his arm and against his side to support him.
“Not now you aren’t! You need to rest first!”
“There isn’t time,” he said, giving in a little and leaning into her as she brought him to a couch nearby. He dropped onto it and sighed with relief. He was frustrated that he had shown and given in to weakness. He meant it, there wasn’t time for weakness. Enough time had been wasted as it was. Soon that monster would give birth, regain his strength, and then he would come gunning for the one thing that could potentially stop him in his tracks. The one thing that might somehow find a way to send him back to the hell that had birthed him.
The Nightwalkers.
They couldn’t allow his victory. They had a responsibility to see to it that Apep was driven back to that hell. If they didn’t succeed, the imp god would cut a swath through the earth and the human race unlike anything ever seen before.
On top of that was the wild card. The infant that would be born to the god. Would it mature at the rate of a normal infant or would it be born fully fledged as in myths of old? It may have a Nightwalker father, but with a god as its mother anything was possible.
They had to stop it. If they could get to Apep before he gave birth, presumably in a weakened state, then they might have a chance.
That is presuming, he was weakened. They were making this assumption based on the fact that he hadn’t attacked them in all these months, that perhaps he was conserving his strength or protecting his weak underbelly.
It was a sign of weakness they couldn’t ignore. It had taken too many months to gather the two factions of Nightwalkers together into one place and still they weren’t complete. But soon they would be. He would see to it that they were.
“I’m all right,” he insisted after a moment of catching his breath. He went to push up but it was a testament to his weakened state that her delicate hands on his shoulders kept him firmly seated.
“You will take a moment and rest,” she commanded him. Then she dropped to her knees between his feet and looked at him imploringly. “Another hour or two won’t make that much of a difference.”
“You can’t know that,” he said. He explained his theories on why the god had not attacked them again like it had all those months ago. Then he explained just how powerful that attack had been, how Apep had swatted at them as easily as one would swat a fly. Only luck had saved them that time. They would not be so lucky again. In the next confrontation lives would be lost.
“Here’s what I do know,” she said softly. “We’re going to do this. We’re going to get all these Nightwalkers together and convince the Wraiths it’s the only way. But we’re going to do it when you’re up to it and not a moment sooner. I won’t let you.” She set her chin stubbornly, just so he could see how serious she was.
And for some reason it made him laugh.
He was not a man prone to finding or expressing humor. He rarely cracked a smile. There was really nothing worth smiling about anymore. But she made him chuckle softly and it felt good. It felt so good to leave the seriousness of the situation behind for that brief collection of seconds.
She smiled at the sound of his laugh. She looked infinitely pleased with herself. She should be, he thought. It was quite an achievement.
“So since you have me trapped here,” he said, reaching out to touch her face along its pronounced cheekbone. “Tell me something about yourself.” Why was it, he wondered, that he couldn’t seem to keep himself from touching her. And, like the laugh, it felt good.
“There’s nothing to tell. You already know everything about me there is to know.”
“Tell me about the gardening,” he pressed.
A special sort of light entered her eyes. “Oh, I love gardening,” she breathed. “Making things live, nurturing them, bringing them back from sickness, making everything look so pretty. And the food…it’s the best thing in the world to eat something you’ve grown from a little seed yourself. My favorites are the strawberries and the corn. A strawberry patch hides the berries until you push the leaves aside and find these little red gems and they’re so sweet. And corn grows so high and strong and its treasure is hidden too until you shuck it and expose it.”
But how did she know it was true? How did she know he wasn’t simply blowing the seriousness of the situation out of proportion?
Well, the Doyen’s response for one. He would never have entertained Kamen’s presence if there wasn’t something serious involved. And he would never have sent her with him, for all she was a half-breed. She had this much to say about the Wraiths, they protected their own—no matter how diluted their blood.
No. The Doyen was worried. He wanted to be left alone, left out of the whole business entirely. That would be the safe thing to do…only he had come to realize there would be no neutral ground in this battle. The Wraiths would be the deciding factor and it would all come down to which side they chose.
Kamen realized this, she was aware. He understood that sacrifices would have to be made, and he was willing to make them. So if he was willing, then she had to be willing too. And she would be willing. No matter how much it all frightened her, she would give no less than he did.
She didn’t know why exactly. It wasn’t as though the Wraiths had ever been kind to her or made her feel welcome. But she wouldn’t wish harm on anyone. If something she did could protect her mother and those of her cell, well she owed them that much for giving her a place to live, didn’t she? She may not have been welcome, but she had been fed and clothed and housed in safety and relative comfort all these years.
The spell ended with a sudden whoosh of air punching out from the center of the circle, blowing out the candle. Kamen sagged for a moment, then picked himself up, getting to his feet with only the slightest hint of unsteadiness. He straightened and tugged on the sleeves of his button-down shirt, organizing himself in appearance as well as mentally and physically.
“Did it work?” Viève asked anxiously.
“It worked. There is a large group of Phoenixes in Brazil, in an area just west of the Rio Braco do Potinga. I can streak us there in a matter of minutes.”
He took a step toward her and suddenly pitched forward. She hastily crossed into the circle and thrust her body up beneath his arm and against his side to support him.
“Not now you aren’t! You need to rest first!”
“There isn’t time,” he said, giving in a little and leaning into her as she brought him to a couch nearby. He dropped onto it and sighed with relief. He was frustrated that he had shown and given in to weakness. He meant it, there wasn’t time for weakness. Enough time had been wasted as it was. Soon that monster would give birth, regain his strength, and then he would come gunning for the one thing that could potentially stop him in his tracks. The one thing that might somehow find a way to send him back to the hell that had birthed him.
The Nightwalkers.
They couldn’t allow his victory. They had a responsibility to see to it that Apep was driven back to that hell. If they didn’t succeed, the imp god would cut a swath through the earth and the human race unlike anything ever seen before.
On top of that was the wild card. The infant that would be born to the god. Would it mature at the rate of a normal infant or would it be born fully fledged as in myths of old? It may have a Nightwalker father, but with a god as its mother anything was possible.
They had to stop it. If they could get to Apep before he gave birth, presumably in a weakened state, then they might have a chance.
That is presuming, he was weakened. They were making this assumption based on the fact that he hadn’t attacked them in all these months, that perhaps he was conserving his strength or protecting his weak underbelly.
It was a sign of weakness they couldn’t ignore. It had taken too many months to gather the two factions of Nightwalkers together into one place and still they weren’t complete. But soon they would be. He would see to it that they were.
“I’m all right,” he insisted after a moment of catching his breath. He went to push up but it was a testament to his weakened state that her delicate hands on his shoulders kept him firmly seated.
“You will take a moment and rest,” she commanded him. Then she dropped to her knees between his feet and looked at him imploringly. “Another hour or two won’t make that much of a difference.”
“You can’t know that,” he said. He explained his theories on why the god had not attacked them again like it had all those months ago. Then he explained just how powerful that attack had been, how Apep had swatted at them as easily as one would swat a fly. Only luck had saved them that time. They would not be so lucky again. In the next confrontation lives would be lost.
“Here’s what I do know,” she said softly. “We’re going to do this. We’re going to get all these Nightwalkers together and convince the Wraiths it’s the only way. But we’re going to do it when you’re up to it and not a moment sooner. I won’t let you.” She set her chin stubbornly, just so he could see how serious she was.
And for some reason it made him laugh.
He was not a man prone to finding or expressing humor. He rarely cracked a smile. There was really nothing worth smiling about anymore. But she made him chuckle softly and it felt good. It felt so good to leave the seriousness of the situation behind for that brief collection of seconds.
She smiled at the sound of his laugh. She looked infinitely pleased with herself. She should be, he thought. It was quite an achievement.
“So since you have me trapped here,” he said, reaching out to touch her face along its pronounced cheekbone. “Tell me something about yourself.” Why was it, he wondered, that he couldn’t seem to keep himself from touching her. And, like the laugh, it felt good.
“There’s nothing to tell. You already know everything about me there is to know.”
“Tell me about the gardening,” he pressed.
A special sort of light entered her eyes. “Oh, I love gardening,” she breathed. “Making things live, nurturing them, bringing them back from sickness, making everything look so pretty. And the food…it’s the best thing in the world to eat something you’ve grown from a little seed yourself. My favorites are the strawberries and the corn. A strawberry patch hides the berries until you push the leaves aside and find these little red gems and they’re so sweet. And corn grows so high and strong and its treasure is hidden too until you shuck it and expose it.”
