Wolf's-own: Weregild (59 page)

Shig only hesitated for a second before she pulled herself up from her chair and shuffled over to Samin. She even gave him a small grin with a touch of cheek in it as he lifted her by the hips and planted her on the railing, legs dangling over the side of the hull. Samin was careful to keep a good hold on her as she leaned over and spread her arms like she was flying.

"What did you do to Malick?” Jacin asked Morin. His voice was still just as raspy as the last time he'd used it. It probably always would be now, just like his leg would never be right again.

Jacin couldn't quite fathom the look of wide-eyed surprise Morin shot him. Morin covered it quickly with the crooked smile that made him look so much like their mother that Jacin's heart took a bit of a lumping lurch behind his breastbone.

"I didn't
do
anything,” Morin protested. “I only said I was surprised he wasn't as pretty as all those other
Temshiel
.” He widened his eyes, all innocence. “It was sort of a compliment!"

"
How
,” Malick growled, “was that a bloody
compliment
?"

Morin grinned wider. “Jacin never liked his men pretty,” he told Malick, as if he would really know, but Jacin didn't contradict him. “He likes ‘em wide and stocky.” Morin looked Malick up and down, then shot an appraising glance at Samin; Samin caught it, rolled his eyes at Jacin, but he didn't ruin Morin's fun, either. “You'd better watch yourself,” Morin said, dropping his voice and looking over his shoulder at Malick. “I dunno. You look more butch than those other
Temshiel
, but I think Samin might be more—"

"Stop, or you'll give Joori a nosebleed,” Malick cut in, and gave Morin a light cuff behind the ear.

"
Help
!” Morin cried, and he shot up from his chair, knocking it with a clatter to the deck as he leapt over toward Samin and wedged himself under Shig's out-flung arm. “Save me from the big, bad
Temshiel
!"

"Kicker of puppies,” Joori snorted, and rabbit-punched Malick's arm in retaliation for the cuff Malick gave him to match Morin's.

Amazingly, they were all smiling, laughing, like they were normal people, living normal lives. How long had that been going on?

Jacin shook his head, letting his glance rove over all of them, one after another, looking closely, like they were completely new people. Perhaps they were. Perhaps they'd all started again. So... where did that leave Jacin? Did he care?

You can't stand to be content, because you don't understand it...

Pensive, Jacin turned his chin up, peered at Malick, who grinned back down at him and waggled his eyebrows.

That will be the one
. His mother's voice, soothing like it had always been.

"So, what'll it be?” Malick wanted to know. “Going to defend me or leave me at their mercy?"

So, you have a decision to make here, Fen.

A decision. It was so much easier not to make them. He was horrible at it, anyway.

...if you choose me, there is no going back.

Someone who couldn't die. Someone who would fight dirty, lie, cheat, and steal his way out of it. Never leave Jacin with a hollow nothing burning him up from inside. He'd get sick of Jacin eventually, it was inevitable, once Malick really got to know him and realized there was nothing there to know. Once he looked deep enough to see the empty, hollow nothing that Jacin really was. But
here
, now....

Alone is the only thing that can truly break you.

And there it was—that simple. Almost the
only
thing he knew right now was that he didn't want to be alone anymore.

Jacin stared up, refused to let the confusion that was hovering at the back of his brain bloom, pushed back everything but
here and now
, just so he could get a good look at it. Was he broken? He thought about it... decided that he couldn't decide. He was still mildly sore from last night; it didn't displease him, and it had nothing whatever to do with pain. His mind was calm, his thoughts his own. And he wasn't cold. There was a weird, creeping thaw going on inside him somewhere, and he coveted the warmth.

He shrugged. “You're plenty pretty,” he said, then just turned his gaze back out to the water, daring Malick to try and cuff
him
.

Malick didn't. Instead, he paused for a moment, silent, then he let loose a breathy little chuckle. “Well, I'll be damned. Fen, did you just make a joke
and
say something kinda nice to me? At the
same time
?"

Had he? Jacin turned a glance up to Shig, caught her knowing little grin, the sly look of conspiracy, and refrained from growling at her. “I guess I did.” He slanted a look over at Joori, raised his eyebrows a little to see Joori smiling at him so hard his eyes were starting to water. Jacin was a bit bemused but didn't comment. Instead, he drove his fingertips into the rough rind of the oblate before he craned his neck to look at Malick again, flicked a chunk of peel at him, and nailed him right between the eyes with it. “Now, leave my brothers alone or I'll gut you."

Malick's hands both went to Jacin's shoulders, clamped on and kneaded—strong and sure but gentle. Joori was smiling, almost smug as he slouched down in his chair beside Jacin. Morin's grin was wide and pure as he climbed up beside Shig, Samin gripping them both securely, while Morin leaned over the railing, arms outstretched, whooping a pleased cry as he pretended to fly.

Yori was missing, the hole she would have filled with her dry, careless wit noticeable. Caidi was missing, the lack of her laughter like a mournful cry in Jacin's chest.

Silly Ghost
, Caidi told him in a voice that was more memory than phantasm.
You're so morbid
. Jacin sank down in his seat and decided he could always brood later. Decided he was cracked a little, maybe, but whatever this was, it didn't feel like broken. Maybe this was the way it was supposed to feel when you started again.

Back to Zero. Maybe he was capable of it.

Anyway, it was a place to start.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Carole Cummings lives with her husband and family in Pennsylvania, USA, where she spends her time trying to find time to write. She's the recipient of various amateur writing awards, and several of her short stories have been translated into Spanish, German, Chinese, and Polish.

Free shorts, sneak peeks at WIPs, and other miscellany can be found at www.carolecummings.com.

[Back to Table of Contents]

[Back to Table of Contents]

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

382 NE 191st Street #88329

Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA

www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Wolf's-own: Weregild

Copyright (C) 2012 by Carole Cummings

Cover Art by Anne Cain [email protected]

Cover Design by Mara McKennen

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 382 NE 191st Street #88329, Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA

www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

ISBN: 978-1-61372-405-7

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

March 2012

eBook edition available

eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-406-4