A Path of Oak and Ash (29 page)

"Then what." Carrick pressed, rage boiling inside of him. He knew reporters could be bloodthirsty, yet in all the scenarios after his departure he never imagined them hounding Liz. She didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve any of it.

"Dad asked me to go for a jog with him, so I did." Tears welled in the corner of her blue eyes, Quin shifted in his seat. "About four blocks down from our house this black windowless van pulled up in front of us. All these men climbed out waiving around badges and barking orders. My Dad stood up to them and they killed him for it." She exhaled, her shoulders sagged. "I was drugged and they took me with them."

"Where? Where did they take you?" The words barely came out through his clenched jaw.

"I was locked in a prison in Guatemala," her voice became monotone, "I was repeatedly interrogated and tortured over a period of time, my fingers were broken, my ribs too. I was water boarded, shocked with a Taser and choked..." She paused, pursing her lips. "I can't tell you how long I was there, partially because I do not want to know myself." Bethany tucked her walnut hued locks behind her ears, the left side fell free instantly. "When they thought they had everything they needed from me, I was to be killed. But someone got me out. Sent me to Aurelian." Her eyes flicked up to the man to her right. "He saved my life. No, he gave me a new one."

"Liz, I am so sorry. This is all my fault...if you didn't know me I-"

"Liz is dead." She cut him off. "My name is Bethany, and you owe me no apology."

Silence hung in the bus for some time, everyone watching the landscape roll by in quiet reflection. It seemed they were heading north out of the city.

"Rick...there is something else." She spoke quietly, as they turned onto the highway. "It was your Mom who ordered them to kill me."

At that moment, everything within Carrick paused. The scenery changed as the bus continued on down the road, a blur of nondescript buildings and signs that Carrick couldn't see.

"What?" Hands shaking, he clenched them against the rust colored leather seat cushion. "What did you say?"

"She was my cell mate." Bethany spoke quietly. "At the end she thought she tricked me into revealing the location of the book. Then the men let her out and she told them to get rid of me."

"No. There is no way." His knuckles turned white as he transferred his emotions onto the leather.

"I think he's heard enough for one day." Aurelian spoke quietly.

Bethany ignored him, leaning across the aisle towards Carrick. "Rick. There was something wrong with her. Her eyes glowed. Her voice...was deep...almost demonic sounding."

"It was not your mother." Aodhan cut in immediately.  "A ruse, had to be."

Carrick's breath left him in uneven puffs, the fact that Lorcan would even impersonate his mother was so over the top that he-

"It couldn't have been a ruse."  Erik said quietly from the front of the bus.

"Why not?"  Aodhan frowned.

"Lorcan is not in his own skin, he can't shift.  No others within the fell would have that ability."

"Does that mean my Mom is...working with him?" He asked quietly.  There was no way, no possible way in any reality that she would willingly assist someone like him.  Carrick couldn't fathom it.

"I do not know Carrick,” Erik muttered, "but we will soon find out I would imagine."

40

Five hours and three hundred and fourteen miles later they had reached their destination.  Bethany had worried about Carrick the entire ride.  After she told him about his mother he didn't speak. He just sat there staring out the window, lost in his thoughts.  As the miles rolled by she had debated on striking up a conversation with him more than once, but it never seemed appropriate. 

The others seemed likewise distracted and with good reason.  One of their friends was missing and presumed dead and they couldn't get home.  Both pains she knew first hand, in the end it was that understanding that kept her mouth shut and eyes on the rolling hills outside. 

She had fallen asleep once over the course of the ride, waking to find her head resting comfortably against Quin's broad chest.  Blushing, she had quietly apologized to him.  Not that he had accepted it.  He said something about the honor being his, which was so...weird.  Not in a bad way, just different.

Dropping off the bus in Portland, Maine they grabbed a taxi to the beachfront.  From there Aurelian had them all walk half a mile north to a sprawling pale blue beach house.  It was little surprise to her when he popped open the security pad outside the front door and punched in the code.  Aurelian seemed to have a never ending list of expansive homesteads at his disposal. 

The inside of this was no different than the last; Expensive décor-coastal themed this time-and furniture, sprawling open spaces and many rooms.

"Pick a bed, rest up, clean up.  We'll regroup tomorrow when our wits are sharp."  Aurelian drawled, pausing in the kitchen to grab a bottle of red wine before wandering down the hallway to what she could only assume was the master suite.

The rest of them hovered in the doorway for a moment, unsure of where exactly the beds to pick were.  Slowly they ventured into the grand beach house. Aodhan and Carrick picked the first room with the matching twin beds.  Bethany opened the door to the room across from theirs, finding a queen bed with a white comforter embroidered with seahorse's in a coral shade.

"I'll take this one."

"Quin, there is a second bed in this room if you wish to share."  The model-looking blond one called in his sing song voice.  She turned around, finding Quin lurking in her doorway, his wide body filling the entire frame.

"I-we-will be down the hall should you need anything. Sleep well Bethany."  With a nod, he turned from her.

"Quin, wait."  Her arm stretched out on impulse.  Not that she could touch him, he was far from reach.

He turned back towards her.  "Yes?"  There was a strange look of anticipation in his eyes.

"I'm sorry about your friend."  She didn't know the redheaded one, had only seen him the once, however she couldn't just go on saying nothing forever.  He had died in her house, she couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for that.

He looked like he wanted to say something, yet instead he simply gave her another curt nod and shut her door behind him.

Collapsing onto the plush bed she stared up at the ceiling, replaying their interaction in her head.  Why had he looked so...eager?  With a groan, Bethany rolled over putting her face in the pillow.  She supposed he probably thought that she was going to invite him in to sleep with her. Was he nuts?  They had just met.  Or was it something else entirely?  These guys weren't exactly like the boys back home, she could have read him completely wrong.  Still...there was something in his eyes when he looked at her.  As Bethany drifted to sleep, she conceded that whatever Quin's thoughts towards her-and there were obviously some-the feeling was pretty mutual.

Standing in the hallway outside of her bedroom, walking past her room towards her parents she called out.  "Mom? Dad?"  The hallway was longer than she imagined, the doors at the sides seemed to deform the further she walked, right angles distorting into obtuse and acute forms with no pattern.  The air thickened in a sickly scent of decay, the lights from the hall lamps dimming with each step forward, damask wallpaper peeling at the seams emitting audible crackles in the silent hallway.  Panic rose in her chest.  "Mom?"  Her words echoed into the endless hallway before her.

  "Where is it?"  Words whispered in her ear.  Bethany whirled around to face an empty hall.  Beneath the peeling paper, concrete began to show through, the harsh metal walls of a cell.  Something touched her arm, sharp dragging claws across her shoulder blade.

There was no one there.  Behind her or in front of her.   "Tell me.  Tell me now.  WHERE IS THE BOOK?"  The demonic voice whispered into her ear, hot breath felt on her neck.

She ran.  Her footfalls leaving bloody prints on the distorted wood floor. Behind her something emerged from the painting.  A dark shadow close behind and gaining momentum.  Gasping for air she ran, ran as fast as her legs would allow, yet no matter how far she moved the shadow was right behind her, glowing eyes and jagged teeth the only visible details on the screaming shadowy figure that lurked in every painting, in every mirror down the long twisting hall.

Tripping on a mangled floorboard she fell forward, hitting the ground hard right next to the listless eyes of her father's blood smeared corpse.

Drenched in cold sweat, Bethany jerked awake.  Her body feeling the phantom after pains of her dream fall. 
Damn, that was one for the movies.
  She thought to herself as she rolled over.  It hadn't been her first nightmare nor did she believe it would be her last.  At some point she fully planned on reading up on PTSD, but that would be an activity involving daylight after a good-

Someone was standing in her room, a shadowy form approaching.

Fortunately the figure spoke before she could scream. "Bethany...you awake?  It's me."  She reached over and turned on the white bedside lamp.  It was Carrick, he looked like he hadn't slept a wink.  His eyes were bloodshot, long hair a tousled mess, a strange look of urgency on his face.

"Rick...what time is it?"  Rhetorical, the bright red digital letters on the clock proudly declared it to be 4:15 AM.

"I need your help."  He dumped a pile of papers on her comforter.

Sitting up, she adjusted her tank top so her goods weren't peeking out.  Biting her lip she flipped through the notes he had scribbled all over the paper.  His handwriting was as awful as ever but she was able to make out company names, license plate numbers and addresses.  A photo ID of someone named Reginald had been shoved under the first page. "What is all this?"

"I don't know how its related, but I know if anyone can figure it out, you can."

She blinked for a bit, trying to fight the urge to collapse back onto her pillow.  "Well...we need access to the internet."

"We passed a library about a mile back in town. Get dressed, I'll take you."

Bethany frowned, the glowing eyed monster still fresh on her mind. Not that she expected to find such a beast walking the streets of Maine, however in her defense stranger things had happened lately. "Is it safe?"

"No. We will never be safe. We are hunted." Carrick sighed. "I'm tired of it. Being hunted, stalked and sought. It's time we take the fight to them, let's hunt for a change." 

"Hey Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"As much as I missed you, I find I like this you a lot more."  She didn't mean it just on a superficial level.  He was confident, commanding the kind of traits that drew you into someone.

His cheeks flushed. "Yeah...um...you too."

"And Rick?  Library won't open for another four hours."  She yawned, collapsing back onto her pillow.  "Go back to bed."

"Who says we have to wait?  A locked door simply indicates we shall have the privacy we desire.” Another voice chimed in from behind Carrick.  The outline of Aodhan came into view as he stepped forward, a wicked smile on his face.

One she mirrored, her short darkened locks amplifying the impact.  "Give me five minutes then."

41

The little red lights of the digital clock stoically presented into the darkness.  4:25 AM.  A message that should have gone unheeded, yet Erik Slaine was the farthest from a blissful state of repose that one could be.  For a brief moment he envied Arcedes, her head tucked beneath her wing and endless blue skies in her dreams.  Closing his eyes he focused on their bond, for a brief moment he was able to see the transient clouds below, feel the current on his skin and the warmth from the sun above.

If only his own slumber was so pleasant.

Restless, Erik left the confines of his quarters in search of water and fresh air.  The darkness of the vacant hallway was disturbed by a small light from under the threshold of the master bedroom's door.  Silently Erik approached the source, his leg causing him no pain for the first time in many nights.

A solitary wrap of his knuckles found the door ajar, the portal opening with an audible protest to the room beyond.  It was not as much of a bedroom as a study with a sleep section.  The predominate fireplace flanked with oak bookcases that extended to the ceiling. Aside from the loft bed to his left, the only other furniture in the room was the pair of wing backed chairs facing the flame.  The sight of them left Erik nostalgic for simpler times, something he assumed was also true for the man slouched in the left seat.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?"  Erik's bare feet made no sound across the soft hand woven russet area rug.

"I'm drinking.  It's like sleeping but far more delightful."  Aurelian gave him a wistful smile for a brief moment before returning his quiescent gaze to the rolling fire.  It was a farce, Erik knew a brooder when he saw one.  Dear Aurelian had always drifted to brooding, even in his youth, calling it the quote 'blight of those with superior intellects'.  He prevaricated frequently on such subjects, but Erik conceded all the same.  It was the nature of friendship.

"May I join you?"  Erik gestured to the empty wing backed chair by the hearth.

"Yes please sit...then we can both revel in the sheer size of your brother's cojones."  Aurelian handed him a wine glass, filled to the brim.  "Leaving the Leabhar Fìrinn with a human woman.  A human! Our most prized treasure.  The bloody key to the front door in the hands of those bumbling fools..."

Collapsing into the comfortable cloth reminded him of the late sixteenth century when stone castles had jutted minimally about the countryside. Long before they had bred like locusts, leaving just as much havoc in their wake. "He did not leave it to her."  Erik paused, taking a large mouthful of wine.  The sweet red went down easily, warming his belly.  "She stole it when she took the baby." 

When Brannon had returned-heartbroken and alone-Erik had demanded they track her down and retrieve both the book and his child immediately.  By force if the situation required it.  Brannon would hear none of it.  He had forced Erik to swear his acedia upon the blood of their line, even had the gall to implore Erik's protection of both the woman and child whilst remaining silent in all matters of the relic.  Only a brother could place such a heavy weight on his chest and only for a brother would such a vow be sworn.  Erik knew had the situation been reversed Brannon would have pledged the same.

"He knew the whole time?"

"Yes."

"And did
nothing
?"

"Yes."  Erik had many heated arguments with his older brother, each of them always ended the same way.  Brannon was an unmovable oak, confident in some unforetold greater purpose he refused to elaborate upon.

Aurelian laughed, shaking his head slowly.  "Brannon may be the seat, our great leader," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "the master of ageless wisdom, but with women? He is damned fool."  Aurelian paused mid-refill, his eyes briefly closing.  He let out a quick guffaw as his lids flicked open. "Your nephew and my daughter just left through the front door along with Aodhan Fhanafall, pockets full of papers and a dream of resolution."

Erik waved his hand dismissively.  Arcedes had scoped the town from on high, while the wolves lurked on the ground.  This place was completely void of nefarious activity.  Aurelian had engineered a stealth retreat that was above reproach, not that he expected less.  "Let them seek answers.  Perhaps their young minds will be more successful than ours."

Aurelian frowned, clearly agitated.  "My network across the globe-spanning this plane and the next-completely failed to ascertain the whereabouts of a pile of bound parchment.  Why not throw our lot in with obstinate youth?"  He cursed, taking another drink.  "It just had to sit on a shelf in a filthy human apartment gathering dust for decades while we spun our webs-lost
lives
-for what?  Brannon's inside joke?"  He downed the rest of his glass, then poured another. "Perhaps I should step down."

"And let Aurellia lead the whisperers?"  Erik shook his head, letting out a sad laugh.  "I love your sister as though she were my own but let us be candid, she is a mender with little wits about her beyond chasing men who refuse to wed."

"Do not use that word with me Erik."  Aurelian smiled, his head bobbling from too much wine.  "Lest I speak of Se-le-ne."  He sang her name with a smile.

"Bah."  Erik downed the rest of his cup, then poured another. He had grown so very weary of everyone demanding he wrap his cloak about her shoulders and take her into his bed immediately.  There were far more important matters that required his attention.  If Estella-

"Estella's dead Erik."  Aurelian spoke softly.  "You need to let it go.  She wasn't for you anyway."

"Reading my thoughts?"

"Just your face."  Aurelian laughed.  "And you call
me
a brooder."  He took another drink, sloshing droplets of the red liquid on his crisp white shirt. "They are-were-twins you know." He winked at Erik.  "Just play pretend." 

"I should strike you for that."  Yet he made no move to do so.  Erik had become immune to Aurelian's dark humor long ago.

They sat in silence for a time, watching the flames dance in the hearth until all that remained was the soft rhythmic glow of embers.

"This world has a way of making one weary, does it not?"  Aurelian Blair murmured, his lids heavy.

"There are days I wonder how different it would be in this moment had Brannon let Lorcan keep his pet."

"His spirit was blackened long before Narine.  I can assure you the world would be no better."

"But would
we
be?"

The door to the master suite swung open, knocking into the wall with enough force to leave a small dent where the door handle struck. His nephew strode in carrying a manila folder, a wide grin on his face.  At his heels were the girl and Aodhan, equally pleased with themselves. 

"Uncle, you are going to want to see this."