A Path of Oak and Ash (26 page)

"The language is known by those it was written for." The deep voice behind her made her jump as she whirled around. Behind her was...wow.

She instantly blushed, smoothing out her messy dark hair. The newcomer was absolutely gorgeous. Maybe thirty, standing over six feet tall with thick dark brown locks that cascaded over his broad shoulders. Deeply tanned skin covered by a white linen shirt and pants in the same brown as her own. Muscled in the six days at the gym per week sense, it seemed odd to her that he was relying on a cane for balance. Although it was easy to assume that was either for show or a sports injury. Brilliant blue eyes mesmerized from under his hooded stare as he spoke in beautifully accented British English. "Within the Leabhar Fìrinn, the methods of connecting those planes are detailed. How to create gates between the realms, how to bind them as one and how to serrate their connection for eternity."

"Erik my friend! Welcome." John called with a smile. Approaching the towering hunk, he extended a hand. The two met in an almost brotherly shake, exchanging a few words quietly in a language she did not know.  When the new comers arm extended, she noticed his wrist had tiny runic tattoos hidden under the cuff of his shirt.

"Scree!"  With a primitive shriek, a large winged animal flittered in from the open doors to the garden, perching on the back of the burgundy sectional.  While she jumped, neither man seemed terribly off put by the giant bird digging its claws into the expensive leather cushions.  To them, it appeared such a creature and event were normal.  Perhaps this pet had been owned by the man for a long time, she had heard of the super-rich being privy to all sort of exotic animals; Tigers, Zebras, even Kangaroos.  Maybe 'really big damn bird' was just another privileged boy's plaything.

The man he called Erik then turned his attention back to her, something both exciting and terrifying.  "Child of water, many have died and countless more will share that fate if you do not tell me where that book is." Despite his kind tone and warm eyes, she was still frightful. Rick's mom had seemed kind right up until she went all crazy eyed and ordered her death.

She shook her head, short locks whipping about in a way she was unaccustomed to. "I won't tell you, but I will show you."

"Out of the question. We have not gone to all this effort for you to treat your life frivolously." She noticed he said
we
. Her hypothesis about John's finances being drug related were deteriorating by the second, this guy screamed old money.  Way old.  The secret society kind of old.

"My knowing where that book is what has kept me alive." She countered, crossing her arms. There were few things in the world as obstinate as an American teenage girl.

"No,
we
have kept you alive." Erik said it in such a way that made it clear he fully expected her to say thank you immediately.

Instead, Bethany scoffed. "And where were you when I was getting tortured then? Or when they shot my Dad? When my mother cried over my empty grave?"

"It doesn't work that way child. By stepping in on your behalf in either of those situations we would have jeopardized our anonymity."

"My father's life was worth less than your identity?" She muttered through clenched teeth.

"Frankly, yes. His and many others. Let me be clear; this is not a motion picture or a television program. This is reality. In reality choices are not always black and white or good and evil. A positive outcome can be fueled by vile actions while a horrible event can be precipitated by noble intentions. All we can do is walk the balance between."

"That is all well and good, but look at this from my perspective. I don't know you. I don't know your cause, who's bad, who's evil. All I know is I've been violently ripped out of my life because I was stupid enough to try and find evidence that an innocent man was in fact, innocent. Now you keep talking all this sci-fi, hippy oneness bs and I'm just..." She took a deep breath, slightly distracted by the massive bird that was sitting on the back of the sofa. "I don't care how dangerous it is. You want that book, you're going to get it delivered from my own two hands...or it's going to stay where no one will find it.  Not you.  Not them. No one."

"I'll offer her protection on this endeavor." John spoke up, much to her surprise. "She's become kind of like the daughter I never really wanted." Both Erik's brow and the corners of his mouth dipped. He definitely struck her as someone who was used to getting his own way.

The massive bird stretched its wings, ruffling out it's feathers in a full body shake that ended in a soft trill. Erik's frown lifted as his hand extended to his side, running his fingertips over the top of the birds massive head.

"Very well," he conceded, "let her blood be on your hands Aurelian."

"Bah. I would hate to tarnish my manicure." That got a laugh out of the handsome newcomer.

Bethany interrupted. "I thought your name was John?"

He waived his hand dismissively, "What is a name but a label? Some earned, some chosen."

She smirked. "I think I like Aurelian far better than John." An odd look of surprise crossed his face, slowly bleeding into a soft smile.

Erik cleared his throat, shifting his feet. "Now then, where are we headed then Miss Waters?" His tone clearly impatient.

"Blair." Aurelian interrupted.

"Pardon?"

"Girl's name. It is Bethany Blair."

Erik popped an eyebrow. "You gave her your surname?" Aurelian shrugged. Bethany was extremely surprised but kept it to herself, she didn't know his last name was Blair, the fact that he would quasi adopt her like that was incredibly endearing. In less than a day he had opened his home to her, saved her from bleeding to death, and given her an opportunity for action against those who harmed her. In the grading chart of adoptive guardians, he was getting an A+ thus far.

After a moment of contemplation, Erik turned toward her, his tone far softer than previously. "Alright. Where to Miss Blair?"

Bethany smirked, "My old house, of course."

"Your former dwelling was searched capaciously." Erik countered with a frown.

"Yeah," she laughed, "obviously with abysmal accuracy. You would think with as much as they probably pay those secret agents they'd teach them to do more than just shoot a gun."

Erik turned a sly eye to Aurelian. "I see why you like her." His gaze flicked back to Bethany. "Girl is nothing but a female version of you."

The bird appeared to laugh in agreement.

36

“You alright Carrick?"

"Yeah...it's just...I can't believe she's dead." He thought of the dream he had the night before. She was pleading for his help, yet the paper placed her death long before his dream. Why would the dead plead with him?

"Human's get hit by car's all the time." Conall waved his hand dismissively.

"Not Liz. Her family lives in a gated neighborhood for cryin’ out loud. She doesn't run the streets, she goes to her health club."

"Either way, it's not what we're here for."

"You are right." Carrick paused with a huff.  He had to put away his past, focus on the now.  On the mission. "We need a more believable cover." He knew darn well that if they wandered into his low class neighborhood in designer threads-especially with Quin's extreme Goth look-they'd set off red flags. Erik taught him the most important thing to do was blend, so...

Carrick closed his eyes, thinking of every television cop drama he'd ever watched. Moments later he was pushing forty with high cholesterol and a waistline that didn't let him see his toes.

"Coppas?" Thadg's tone showed his displeasure.

"Bad neighborhood, lots of police." Carrick smiled. "Helps get us into a crime scene, wouldn't ya say?" Conall, Tadhg, Quin and Aodhan followed suit, although with their limited conceal abilities they looked like a quadrant of rookies fresh out of the academy.

"What now?" Conall asked.

Carrick emerged from the small dark corner of the airport parking garage where they'd been planning. Stepping on to the well-lit street he threw up his arm. "Taxi!"

Behind him he heard the whispers of Quin and Conall. Starless and Mille were ordered to track remotely. The echoes of their large paws disappeared down an alley just as a bright yellow cab stopped before him.

Carrick climbed in back without delay, his rookie squad following suite. How awkward they must have looked, smashed shoulder to shoulder in dress blues.

"Good Afternoon officers." His accent was distinctly South African English.

"Citizen." Quin nodded at him from the front passenger seat. Carrick's arms were lodged at his sides between Tadhg and Conall, otherwise he would have face palmed at Quin's attempt to act human.

"Lot of police for one cab, ya?"

"Coachman transport us with haste to the housing district." Quin ordered with a flick of his wrist.

"Huh?" 

Carrick quickly rattled off the address before any of the druids could chime in.

With a nod, the cab pulled away from the curb. The drive across town to his neighborhood filled him with both nostalgia and disgust. His senses heightened, he could almost taste the foul smog in the air. His skin itched, everything seemed dirty. The rundown buildings he had once paid no mind were now offensive to him. When the cab rolled past the bodega where he had saved Liz's life a fresh lick of pain touched his heart. Was her death just nature's way of correcting itself? Had he interfered when he should not have? At the time he did not know any better, he was only trying to save her and yet, by saving her did he only bring forth compounded agony? Closing his eyes, the image of her from his dream lingered. Covered in blood, begging for help. No, something was wrong there. Something off.

The cab slowed to a stop with little grace, breaks screeching in a rudimentary plea for replacement. "We're here. 15.50."

While the young druids quickly piled out of the back Quin paid the man his fee before joining them on the sidewalk.

Carrick didn't see the cab pull away, the rev of the engine combined with the grind of the tires against the pavement registered somewhere in his mind. His attention was wholly focused on the apartment complex in front of him.

The building didn't seem real. Which was absurd. It was made of worn brick as tangible as the concrete beneath his feet, and yet standing before that worn door made him feel like he was viewing an impossibility. For every step forward he took fear mounted within him that the worn door with its broken screen would drift farther away.

"This is where you lived?" Quin asked softly, obviously appalled.

"Yeah, not long though. We moved around a lot."

"Shall we?" Conall asked.

Carrick nodded, but could not move. His feet refused command, palms sweaty. In a way he thought returning to the scene would bring him closure, that it wouldn't affect him negatively. It had been months since he had been kidnapped from this very sidewalk. In that time he should have moved on past this, after all his life had changed completely since he had last set foot on this sidewalk. Still, as he looked upon that door with its rickety screen he was fearful of what lay beyond.

"No one lives here." He murmured.

"Sign in window says it was condemned." Aodhan pointed out.

"Oh yeah." He saw it, why it did not register with him dismissed as trauma.

A heavy hand clapped Carrick on the shoulder. "The first step is always the hardest." Aodhan whispered. "So let us take it together."

"Okay."  Side by side, they walked down the broken sidewalk, entering the hallway that still smelled of mold, cat urine and cigarettes.

Behind the police tape his apartment was untouched, save for the thick layer of dust that had accumulated on almost everything. The brick and board bookshelves still stood aside the hand me down tube tv. Through the sliding door he noticed his mother’s massive amount of plants had long turned to brittle broken twigs on the deck.

Quin put a hand on his shoulder. "You alright?"

"Yeah...it's just a lot to take in." On the far wall of the living room a framed picture still hung of the two of them when he was six. Bliss filled smiles on both of their faces, even frozen on paper her gaze felt loving when he met her eyes.

Carrick took the picture off the wall.

"She was very lovely." Quin commented as Carrick ran his finger around the edge of his mother's outline on the photo, trying desperately to remember her voice.

"Aren't you going to add for a human?" Carrick quipped darkly.

"Why would I?" Quin shot him a puzzled and somewhat hurt look.  "I am not the monster you think that I-"

"Ow! Leave me alone!" A familiar voice called out from down the hall behind them. Carrick turned heel immediately, drawn to the sound. Tucking the picture frame into the bag slung over his shoulder as he exited his old apartment.

"You're not supposed to be here. Who are you?" Aodhan's voice carried with surprising authority in his tone. Had he been human, he might have made a passible officer of the law.

"I'm Matt. Matt Dickinson. I live in the building down the street. Damn! Stop twisting my arm."

Carrick rounded the corner, waves of nostalgia warming his heart as his eyes fell upon his old best friend. He looked just as he had remembered-well-worn name brand sneakers, jeans, a grey hoodie making fun of T-Rex's little arms and a worn ball hat- except a little taller. As he drew closer Carrick even noticed Matt's acne had cleared up a bit. His Mom must have finally caved to buying him the super expensive treatments he'd been begging for.

"Hi Matt." His old friend glared at him.

"Do I know you?" Man let me go!" He spat, squirming against Conall's hold.

"Let him go."  Carrick demanded.

"Are you certain it is wise?" The blond druid's lyrical phrasing sharply contrasted his police blues.

Carrick laughed, briefly picturing Matt trying to take a swing at Conall. He'd seen him get in a fight once first semester, it was like watching a duck attack a gorilla. "Definitely."

"You're not cops." Matt glared at him, completely unaware of who he was.

"And you are trespassing. Why?" Aodhan shot back.

"I plead the fifth asshole. Arrest me? Oh wait. You can't. Cause you're not a freaking cop! You're just another one of them."

Carrick smiled, willing his guise to wane. The pudgy forty something cop facade transformed into his own.

"What the hell..." Matt squinted, eyeing him from his boots to his deep brown hair that fell over his shoulders.

"Do you recognize me now Matt?"

Matt stumbled back, bumping into Conall who frowned in annoyance. "...Rick? Rick Smith? Holy Shit! Dude, is that really you? Where the hell have you been?  What did you do man?  There is some serious classified shit going on here and I-"

Carrick raised both his hands. "Shh..I don't have long, please tell me why you're here and what you meant by 'another one of them'. It is extremely important. Not just for me, but for the world." That last part was tacked on for his friend's benefit. Matt was always partial to drama. Nothing like the pretense of saving the world to get a man talking.

Matt's posture relaxed instantly, the words flowing from his mouth at a million miles a minute. "After the news ran all that crap about you, we didn't believe it. Couldn't. Liz was adamant you were innocent. So one night, mostly with my pushing, we snuck in here with flashlights. I'm sorry man, you were gone and she's so freaking hot. I figured she'd be all sad, it would be dangerous. I could be the hero. Hell, maybe I'd get some. But...when we got here. Shit was all wrong. Your apartment wasn't blown to bits, the empty one where old Mrs. Ackers used to live was. It was all covered in vines and stuff. Liz found this weirdo like voodoo spell book in a wall, tried to hide it but I saw her take it. Was totally freaky, like movie freaky.  I couldn't deal, we left." Matt shook his head. "Damn dude, you seriously have to give me your fitness regimen. Is this real?" Matt reached out and tugged at Carrick's hair.

"Ow. Yes. It's real." Carrick took a deep breath, trying to keep his friend on topic. "Where is the book now Matt?"

"Liz took it home. Think she was gonna figure out how it could clear your name or something." Matt's eyes watered. "Not that it matters now. She was...killed."

"Still na tellin us bout'em." Tadhg crossed his arms impatiently.

"What?" Matt eyed the fiery druid with both trepidation and utter confusion.

"What did you mean by another of them?" Carrick translated, hoping to keep him talking.

"Suits. Come by this place on the regular. Don't stay long, but they're definitely around every few days. That's why I was here, to get a pic of 'em on my phone. Get it to the press or a detective or somethin’. Hell, I'll even post it to my feed. Whistleblow the shit outta whatever government agency is playing spy here."

"It's not the government." Carrick muttered.

"Man! I am so glad to see you. I can't wait to tell..."

"Sorry, you won't be telling anyone." Quin spoke flatly, waiving his left hand in front of Matt’s face. He crumpled like a rag doll into Conall’s arms.

"Quin!" Carrick's eyes widened. There was so much more he wanted to discuss with his old friend.

"Relax. Just a temporary block. He shall wake in a few hours, well rested and blissfully unaware of our conversation."

Carrick knew that was the best thing for Matt's safety. The farther he was from this mess the longer his lifespan would be, still it pained him that Matt would have no recollection of their encounter. "Thank you." It was Quin's turn to be surprised.

"What are we going to do with him?" Carrick pointed at his hunched over friend who was drooling all over himself.

"Eh?"

Carrick groaned. "Well you can't just leave him in the building, need to take him home." This place was condemned, he didn't want Matt to get in any trouble. Leaving him here to be found or wake up utterly confused was just cruel.

"I am not doing that." Conall countered.

"Can we at least put him outside or something?" Carrick offered as a compromise.

"Fine. Quin grab his legs will you?"

"You always give me the hooves." Quin grumbled, scooping up Matt's feet by his sneakers.

"Of course, I do not wish to be kicked."

"Wait!" Carrick exclaimed, rushing the unconscious Matt. Digging in his pockets, he retrieved his cell phone. It was locked, but fortunately for Carrick his friend was predictable. The passcode was the numeric representation of his name. With a smirk, Carrick punched in 6288.

"What are you doing?" Quin asked, trying to see the little screen.

"Matt said he's been watching this place for a while right? Let’s see what kind of pics he's got." Combing through his friends photo gallery brought forth a whole range of emotions he really didn't have time for. Classmates from school making duck faces in science, pictures from the spring dance-looked like Matt took Heather Hurst who had previously been way out of his league-Carrick had missed, candid’s from his last birthday party where we played paintball, image after image of Liz, shots of an apartment building and...bingo. A black van parked out front. Carrick ran the plate over and over in his head till it was committed to memory.

"Okay take him." He spoke quietly, tucking the phone back into Matt's pocket.

"That mean tha fell have tha book?" Tadhg mused, chewing on his lip.