Shadow Borne (12 page)

Within ten seconds, Claire and I were alone.
"My God Ari, are you okay?" She snatched me to her slightly shorter
frame and held fast for a moment before holding me at arm's length
for a more thorough inspection.

"I take it you heard about the Coatyl?"

"That it broke in and almost killed you?"
She nodded. "Mark told me a couple hours ago, after Aranu and the
others began showing up. Are you okay?" she demanded, still
checking me over.

"I'm fine. I had it pinned to the wall
before it ever got close enough to do any real harm." That was true
enough, I figured, if not technically all there was to that part of
the story. "They told you it spoke to me?"

Claire nodded and glanced furtively around
us before pulling me into a relatively private corner of the
covered porch. "Aries, what the hell is going on around here?"

"We're at war." I sighed. "I guess this was
the next logical step in our parade of ill luck."

"I know that; but Coatyl do not talk. They
aren't capable of advanced speech and complex thought
processes."

"They do now. They are now." I shook my head
ruefully. "Khan and the Lahuel altered them...somehow. This changes
things, Claire. And obviously not for the better."

"I figured Kahn was the mastermind behind
this disaster. It's retaliation for us taking Lydia and the guards
out of commission, isn't it?"

"For blowing Lydia and three quarters of
Kahn's army sky high?" I smirked. "Yes, it seems that would be the
reason he's bent on destroying us. Not that he wasn't planning on
killing every last one of us anyway, those he didn't plan on
enslaving, that is, but now I get the feeling he'd like for it to
be especially painful. Still," the smirk faded, "I never thought he
would do something like this."

"You didn't think he would stoop so low?"
Claire was incredulous.

"I didn't think he was capable of stooping
so low." I corrected.

"True." She wrapped her arms around her
waist and gazed across the yard at some vague, far off point in the
distance. "Hey," she said abruptly, turning to face me. "A minute
ago you said Kahn and the Lahuel. Why do you think the Lahuel had
anything to do with this?" Claire shivered. I knew for a fact that
she found the Lahuel every bit as disturbing as I did, probably
more so, considering she had actually been up close and personal
with the shadow demon.

"We don't have confirmation on that intel
just yet." Mark interrupted smoothly, striding to his wife's side
and taking her hand. I raised a brow, a little surprised to hear
Mark try to placate Claire with a reassuring lie. The Warrior of
the Ruins tended to be very...protective, where his bride was
concerned, but I had never known him to try and ply her complete
falsehoods, until now, that is.

Claire gazed into her husband's eyes for a
long beat before her shrewd gaze swung back to me. "Aries? What's
going on?"

"I just said–" Mark tried again, looking
hunted.

"I take it you haven't told her?" I raised a
brow and folded my arms across my chest. Mark didn't try to say
anything more, but the resigned look in his eyes clearly said he
wasn't thrilled with my interference. "We know the Lahuel is
involved because I heard it straight from the Coatyl's mouth."

"And?" Claire pressed, reaching out with one
hand to grip the smooth white porch rail.

"It had been sent by the Lahuel. With orders
to kill me and leave a message in my blood, something to the tune
of 'Claire, you're next'."

Claire recoiled before turning on her
husband. "You didn't think that was something I should know?" she
demanded.

"This morning Claire decided that instead of
going with us to the coast, it would be best if she stayed home
with Ashley and Sienna." Mark glowered at me, but behind the scowl
there was a definite hint of desperation in his jewel green
eyes.

He doesn't want her to
go–no, he's terrified at the very thought.
The realization really shouldn't have come as such a shock;
Mark had loved Claire almost from day one. She was it for him. She
was also the mother of their children and it made this
situation...complicated, for both of them.

There wasn't enough money in the world that
would make me want to be in Claire's shoes right now, forced to
walk a balancing act on the tightrope of motherhood versus country.
And this was her country now. To go through such enormous life
changes with all the delicacy of a boat being tossed onto the shore
by a wicked sea...no, I definitely wouldn't want to be in Claire's
shoes. Not that mine were all that cozy lately...

"Well, now I don't know what I'm going to
do." Claire was saying. "This changes everything."

"But your sister is due to give birth any
day now." Mark argued. "What if there are complications?"

Claire glared at her husband. "You are so
not helping right now, Mark."

"Fine." The lines around his mouth deepened
and he put his back to us in order to pick up a loudspeaker from
the patio table. "We can talk later. I've got a meeting to see
to."

An instant before I heard the footsteps,
Claire's eyes widened at a point behind me. The faint hint of
cologne told me who was walking across the porch even before I
turned around, not that Claire's wary expression wouldn't have been
a dead giveaway. The best thing, the mature thing, was to turn
around and face him like an adult.

"That's Mike behind me, isn't it?" I asked
Claire, crossing my arms even tighter over my chest in a way that
would have done Ashley and Sienna proud.

"Yes. Sorry." she apologized. "That reminds
me, how was your little chat last night?"

"Oh," I shrugged, deliberately vague. "You
know."

"When Mike came back without you and went
straight to bed, I figured it hadn't gone well."

Mike stopped a good six feet away from us
and asked. "Is she armed?"

"Who?" Claire and I asked in unison.

"Aries."

I did face him then. "Yes, I'm armed."

"Then I'd just as soon stay over here." He
gestured to the end of the porch where he stood. "Where it's safe."
he added.

"Mike," Claire frowned, "what's with you?
Everyone here this morning is armed."

Mike raised a brow but otherwise remained
silent. If he was waiting for me to announce that I'd threatened to
stab him last night, then I could have told him not to hold his
breath, because I had no intention of sharing my personal business
with everyone on the porch.

Beside me, Claire opened her mouth only to
close it a second later without saying a word; I followed her gaze
to the tall blonde man making his way through the crowd gathered on
the lawn in front of the house. Carl.

"Come on." she said, at once abrupt. "It's
getting a little too crowded around here." she muttered, stomping
into the house.

"Shouldn't we stick around for the
speech?"

Mark did a quick sound check on the
hand-held loudspeaker and I hesitated before following Claire into
the cool privacy of the house.

"I already know what he's going to say. The
Coatyl have gone mad and we're leaving for the coast in two days
now instead of two weeks.”

"We are? So, you've decided to go?"

"No. Yes. Hell, I don't know." she grumbled,
taking three slow, measured deep breaths and heading across two
parlors and past a powder room before leading the way down the
corridor that led to the extra large, ultra sunny kitchen. "I can't
believe Mark kept all this from me."

"He seems very worried." I said, grabbing a
chocolate chip cookie off a brass tray that someone, probably
Marta, had placed in the center of the small table in the breakfast
nook area of the kitchen.

"Yeah." Claire snorted. "I got that. Does he
think that I'm not worried? How does he expect me to deal with all
of this, to make informed decisions, if he purposely withholds the
facts? Answer me that." she challenged, working up to a pretty good
rant. "Between him and Carl, I'm getting damn sick and tired of men
lately."

Lately? Mark, and Carl for that matter, had
only been home for twelve hours. I covered a smile by biting into
the cookie. "What did Carl do this morning?" I asked once I'd
chewed and swallowed and regained most of my composure.

"Nothing that I know of. Yet." Claire
sighed. "This is the first time I've seen him since last night. But
Carl doesn't have to do anything except breathe and he's on my bad
side. I don't trust him."

"Normally, I would agree with you there, but
he seems okay to me. Other than the whole used to be a hit man,
tried to kill you thing." I smiled and poured two cups of coffee,
handing one blue swirled mug across the table to her before raising
my own mug to my lips.

"You actually trust him?"

"Not really." I confessed. "But I get the
feeling he was telling the truth last night. I don't think he's a
threat."

"He seems to like Megan." Her scowl deepened
and she bit savagely into her cookie.

"I noticed."

"I don't like it one damn bit."

"I noticed that too."

"And she actually let's him into her
room."

I wasn't surprised to hear it; by all
accounts Megan Roberts was vulnerable and scared right now. Her
husband had run off and Carl had rescued her not once but twice and
so to my way of thinking it would have been abnormal if she hadn't
fallen for him just a little bit. Not that it wasn't weird;

Carl's previous occupation was enough to
make even the most unsuspecting person wary, and Claire possessed a
more cautious nature than most. So, I couldn't tell her I was
pretty sure Carl genuinely cared for Megan, even though I was
almost one hundred percent positive that he did.

It was true I'd known him for less than one
day–and I'd only seen him a couple of times, at that, but something
about him felt genuine, real–honest. Whether or not he would turn
out to be good for Megan was an entirely different matter and one
which remained to be seen. Nymphs were a little more tuned in than
the average person to the emotions of others and the former hit man
hadn't set off any of my usual internal warning bells. But, rather
than spout reassurances that would probably, to Claire at least,
feel empty, I drained the last of my black coffee and said. "It'll
be okay. Let's not borrow trouble."

"Yeah." she sighed. "You're right on the
money there. We've got enough right now as it is, don't we?"

I shrugged. "It looks that way."

"So," Claire drained her own mug and crossed
the kitchen to set the dish in the wide chrome double sink and flip
the light switch off before we headed out of the room. "You talked
with Mike?"

"Not really. He wanted to know what had
happened around here and I filled him in on a few details that Mark
and the others hadn't already told him." And then he grabbed me and
I pulled a knife on him. Yeah. I decided to keep that little detail
to myself for the time being.

"Is that all he wanted to know?"

"No."

“
You're not going to talk
about it, are you?"

I shook my head and my lips curved into the
barest hint of a smile. "Not yet. Sorry."

"It's okay. So, are you ready to meet Megan?
The last time I checked, she was awake and I'm pretty sure I hear
Marta and the girls up there." She tilted her head to the side and
gestured to the floor above.

"Sure. I've been eager to meet her."

"Good but, ah, you should know she's not at
her best right now. She's very round, and Mike was right, she cries
a lot. Her eyes are red so even when you don't see her cry you know
she's either just finished sobbing or about to do it again." Claire
frowned as we climbed the wide curving staircase to the second
floor. "I could kick her husband. Of course, I'd have to find him
first."

I nodded sympathetically. "Some
husband."

Claire climbed the last dark wood tread and
strode down the hall without bothering to flip the light switch. I
followed and the sound of voices grew louder as we neared the end
of the hall. She knocked briefly on the second to last door, turned
the knob and pushed it open without waiting for an answer. The room
was packed.

Marta, the longtime housekeeper who had also
stood in as a mother figure for Mark, was busy folding a basket
full of lemon yellow sheets and stuffing them into a tall, ornately
carved dresser in the corner, next to the room's single extra-large
window.

Ashley and Sienna were laying in the center
of the room, on a wide braided rug; they appeared to be engaged in
a deep discussion over the large picture the two were busy
coloring. A dignified older couple occupied a pair of uncomfortable
looking wing-back chairs near the hearth. A cheery fire blazed in
the stone depths and a set of white sheer curtains fluttered
lightly in the early morning breeze that poured into the room from
the open window, keeping the room pleasantly cozy rather than
stifling.

A woman with shiny, white blond hair and
luminous green eyes sat in the middle of the full size bed that
occupied the corner of the room opposite the fireplace. The rumpled
bed was situated flush with the wall and close enough to the
enormous window for the woman to lean over and watch the coming and
going of the people in the yard, if she had so chosen. But it
didn't look like she cared one way or the other about the mass
gathered below.

Claire's sister–and this was obviously Megan
Roberts–didn't look very interested in much of anything. Her eyes
were rimmed with the vivid red of grief and behind the sheen of
tears, the glassy orbs were flat and empty. Claire strode to the
center of the room and cleared her throat, but it was Marta who was
the first to break the silence.

"Hello, Aries." The older woman's eyes
gleamed. "I see you have pants on today." She nodded approvingly
and snapped the last sunshine colored sheet into the dresser.