Fire And Steel (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 2) Page 15

  He was crossing under another cone of soft yellow light when, behind him, he noticed one of the lamps winking off. Then another. Then another. Moving quickly toward him, the darkness was becoming a perfect thing. Ahead, the lamps were still glowing along the path to safety. Donny watched the lamps go dark, marching their slow flickering way to himself, and decided that he needed to move faster.

  Picking up speed, Donny could suddenly hear them behind him, pacing him as he ran. They twittered and laughed. The sound was like ice water being pumped into his veins. The sound wasn't human. And they were getting closer.

  Up ahead, four lamps away, Donny could see where the track ended and the street began. He ran faster. Behind him, the lights were going out at a faster rate. If Donny could have flown up and watched from the sky, as a bird saw, he would have screamed to see how the darkness was catching up to him. He was still two lights away from the street when the light closest to the street went out, throwing the path in front of him into perfect darkness.

  From somewhere behind him, Donny heard a sound that might have been a scream. A girl's scream. Donny didn't know this, but the scream came from Carla Smith. She and her boyfriend had parked up at the Lake View Turnout, so they could look at the stars and at each other. Their make out session was interrupted when a creature that looked like a freakish cross between a mountain cat and a troll threw itself through the car's open window and tore off Carla's boyfriend's face.

  Donny was panting and making a tiny whining noise in the back of his throat. The last light behind him went out, leaving only the cone of orange yellow light that he stood in to protect him from the night. Around him, lurking in the darkness, Donny heard them moving, whispering, and growling. A couple of times, he thought he saw a bit of fur or the glint of eyes as one got a little too close to the light. The front of Donny's shirt was black with blood and he could feel sweat pouring down his face.

  He was going to die. He knew it. There was no lying to himself. Not now.

  He thought of Heather, at home in her nice warm house. Her nice safe house. And he wanted to go over and choke her to death for doing this to him. It was her fault he was here, about to die. Spitting a gob of blood at the things watching him, Donny twisted his face into an ugly smile and said, his voice hard and unafraid. "What are you waiting for? Let's get this over with."

  The light above him flickered and went out. And the monsters came.

  People heard Donny's screams, as well as the screams from Carla and her boyfriend, and they hurried home. As winter drew closer and the nights grew longer, more and more people found reasons to be home before dark. Kids decided that playing indoors was better than being outside. And if they didn’t figure it out, their parents decided it for them. The parks that Matheson was so proud of began to stay empty. Even during the day.

  Matheson folded in on itself. The town losing its vitality as the days wore on and the nights becoming darker. Deadlier. Everybody felt it. From the old men, sitting on their stools at The Lumberjack, eyeing each other with distrust and suspicion. To the little old ladies, gossiping quietly at the nursing home while watching the creeping shadows outside.

  Something bad was living in the woods and the empty places. Something that was becoming stronger every day that went by and nothing was done to curtail it. But something worse was coming.

  Something evil.

  Chapter 15

  The day before Thanksgiving break started, Brandon came home and found a box of condoms sitting on the dresser in his bedroom. Tossing his bag on the bed, he went to his dresser and picked the box up. They were Trojans. A dozen. He studied the box for a moment, his mind going right where it shouldn't. To Claire and to the increasingly long kisses. And the way that her body felt when it was pressed against his. When he closed his eyes, he tasted her breath and smelled the perfume that she dabbed on the side of her neck.

  He left his bedroom, taking the condoms with him.

  Gerrick was in the sword room. He sat cross legged on the floor, the Phoenix lying across his knees. He was using an oil cloth to polish the blade. He looked up as Brandon entered, noticing the box in the young man's hand. He went back to polishing the blade. He was careful not to let the bare steel touch his flesh.

  Standing over Gerrick, Brandon loomed over the man. "Are you trying to kill me? Do you want me to die?"

  "Of course not." Gerrick said, meeting Brandon's gaze. Light flickered along the length of the blade lying across his knees, as if a flame burned nearby. Its reflection moving within the steel. But there was no fire. There was only Brandon's anger, threatening to burst into a conflagration. If the older man noticed the youth’s angry tone and the air of barely contained violence he was projecting, he hid it well. His voice was mild as he continued polishing the sword.

  "Well, it sure as hell feels like it." Brandon said. He shook the box of condoms at his uncle. He wanted to throw it at the other man’s face. "What is this? First you teach me to fight, when you know that I have to spill blood in combat as part of my journey to manhood? My journey to my untimely death? Now, you give me rubbers? What, you want me to have sex with Claire? You want me to die?" He shook his head. “If you’re trying to kill me, Gerrick, use the sword you’re holding. It’ll be quicker than this backward ass plan to get the curse to do it for you.”

  The cloth stopped moving and Gerrick looked at him. He said. "The condoms are for Claire's protection. Not yours." Gerrick said, cool and collected. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not blind, Bran. And neither are you. You know that it's only a matter of time before you reach the point of no return with Claire. I was young, as you are, and I know how hard it can be to stop yourself, even when you know you should. Fear of death rarely stops a horny teenager. That was true in the old world, as much as this one."

  "You think I have a death wish?" Brandon asked. He hunkered down, eye to eye with Gerrick. "You think I'd rather die than stay a virgin? I'm not some horny high school kid, trying to get laid before graduation. I know my responsibilities. I know my duty."

  "And I know love." Gerrick said. He sighed and looked away, staring at the walls of the sword room. At the assembled instruments of death and destruction. So beautiful, but also deadly. When he returned his gaze to Brandon’s, his eyes looked sad. Almost haunted. He said. "Everybody has a death wish, Bran. It just manifests itself differently with different people. Death isn’t always a curse. Sometimes it’s a blessing. The only escape for some people. A chance to rest for the first time in a long and tortured existence." There was something in Gerrick's voice. A note of yearning that raised Brandon's hackles.

  "Is that how you look at it?" Brandon met his uncle's gaze, trying to read the man's eyes. Looking for the older man’s death wish in his steady gaze. But only finding steely determination. He asked. "Is death just a way for you to get away from your duty? A chance to rest after all your years of fighting?"

  Gerrick stared at nothing for a long moment then shook his head, saying. "Some are never able to lay down their swords. Even in death. You and I are such."

  Brandon didn't answer. He looked down at the box in his hand and sighed. He thought of his father. His mother. Was this what happened with his dad? Did he have to choose between life and love? If so, would he have considered it worth the cost? Brandon knew the answer, instantly, and felt ashamed of his anger. When he looked up, Gerrick was watching him.

  Gerrick said. "If you sleep with Claire, she'll be in danger. Sha'ha'Zel will use her against you. Kill her, if the opportunity presents itself. But if she becomes pregnant, the Curse will do worse. Once he destroys you, he'll disappear. He'll vanish and wait for the baby to be born. And then, when your baby is all grown up, Sha'ha'Zel will slaughter him."

  "That’s what he did to my father." Brandon said. The box of condoms felt heavier, all of a sudden, with a weight that wasn’t physical. He felt wrung out emotionally. His brain was exploded by his revelation. "Why did Sha’ha’Zel wait so long to come after him? Why did he
wait twenty years?"

  Gerrick said nothing for a long time. He stopped polishing the sword and stood. He looked at the sword in his hand and seemed to reach a decision. "The answer to that question is complicated, Bran."

  "Complicated how?"

  "By your father." Gerrick said. He sheathed the sword and placed it back onto the pedestal in its display case before turning back to Brandon and saying. "There are things about your father that you don't know. Things that I'm not prepared to tell you and you’re not prepared to hear."

  "Secrets?" Brandon said. "He had too many secrets. Secrets that got him and my mother killed.” He nodded at Gerrick. “So do you."

  Gerrick nodded. "Sometimes there are good reasons for the secrets we keep, Bran."

  Brandon said. "And what if one of these secret can save my life? Have you thought of that?"

  Gerrick said. "I don't know everything, Bran. I can't know. But I do know that there are things about your father and your mother that you're better off not knowing. At least for now. But I promise you, when the time comes, I'll tell you everything. When you're ready."

  "When I'm ready to die, you mean?" Brandon said. He shook his head. “I'll tell you what, you give me a shout when you think I'm ready. Until then, I'll be outside, working the forms."

  Brandon left Gerrick in the sword room and went upstairs to change. In his bedroom, he stood in front of the full length mirror and looked at himself. He was leaner than before he came to Highgarden. His muscles more defined. He could have passed for somebody 3 or 4 years older. His eyes were worse. They were the eyes of an old man. A seasoned warrior. Not quite the thousand yard stare, but close.

  He was still looking at himself when there was a knock on his door. He turned, expecting his uncle, but found Claire, instead. She stood just inside his doorway, staring at him. She said. "Hi."

  "Hi." Brandon said, turning and looking at her. He could feel her looking at him. He pulled on a tee shirt and went over and sat down on the edge of his bed. Claire closed the bedroom door and came over to sit down beside him. He looked at her. "How are you doing?"

  "Fine." Claire said. Her eye patch was silver, with gold stitching around the outer edge. It looked like an heirloom. She sighed, running a hand through her hair, and said. "I had to see you." She seemed to notice for the first time that they were sitting on his bed, with the door closed, and she blushed. She laughed. "I just didn't expect to see so much of you."

  Brandon smiled. "I wasn't expecting company."

  "I know." Claire said. She looked away, her gaze sliding over the rest of his room. "I'm sorry that I didn't call. It's just, I really wanted to see you and I didn't think you would let me come over if I called first. Too dangerous and all that."

  "It's okay." Brandon said. His eyes caught on the box of condoms, lying on the little table beside his bed, and his face suddenly felt hot. He spoke quickly, hoping to keep Claire from noticing the small gray box. "Do you want to go outside?"

  "Sure." Claire said with a small smile.

  Outside, they stood on the back deck, watching the wind cut through the trees. The sky above was blue and cloudless. Brandon leaned against the deck railing, his arms crossed. He watched Claire as she walked over to the steps and sat down.

  Claire looked at Brandon and said. "Have you seen Albert or the Kruegers? Away from school, I mean? You know, since the dance?"

  Brandon thought of telling her about the incident with Eric Golph and decided against it. Shaking his head, he went over and sat down next to Claire. He said. "No. They've been keeping their heads down, I think. Every once and a while, I hear somebody say something about Albert being beat up or humiliated by them, but I ignore it. They've gone through a lot just to make sure that everyone thinks Albert is some poor kid who can't take care of himself."

  Claire shook her head. Changing the subject, she said. "What are you doing for Thanksgiving break? Any big plans?"

  "Just training." Brandon said. "I kind of half hoped that I would get to go to Seattle, to see my friends and my Aunt Katie, but no. With what's happening here, I don't think that's a good idea. What about you? Will you and your folks be in town?"

  Claire shook her head. "Mom and dad want to go to my grandmother's house in Florida for the week. They've been planning on it for a while. We're supposed to go to Universal Studios and maybe Disneyworld. I don’t buy it though. I think they just want to get out of town for a bit, kind of hide out from all the bad stuff."

  "I’ll miss you but I’m glad you’ll be away from it all, even if it’s just for a week." Brandon said. “At least one of us will be safe.”

  "I hate it." Claire said. "I don't want to be away from you for so long. It'll be unbearable. I love you, Bran."

  "I love you too, Claire." Brandon said. He reached out, caressing her cheek with his fingers. She turned her face into his touch and closed her eye. She was beautiful. He said. "I wouldn’t want to live if something happened to you."

  "And what about you?" Claire said. She took his hand in her own and brought it up to her lips. Kissing his fingers, she met his gaze and said. "You're planning something, aren't you? I can tell. What is it?"

  Brandon looked away from her eye. He couldn't bear to meet her gaze when he lied. He said. "We're going to increase our patrols. Try and eliminate more of the grohlm. Nothing huge. But my training is going to intensify and it'll be harder if I'm worrying about your safety all week."

  Claire looked at him, at his posture, and knew he wasn't being completely honest. But she didn't push. Instead, she said. "As long as you're waiting for me when I get back. I'm going to be worrying about you the whole time I'm gone."

  Brandon leaned forward, pulling her into his arms, and hugged her tight. Then they kissed. They started slowly, exploring each other’s lips and lightly touching tongues, but it quickly escalated into something else entirely. He buried his fingers into her hair and crushed her to him, unwilling to pull away. But they had to end it before they went too far to stop. When they pulled away from each other, Claire was breathless, a long teardrop tracking down her cheek.

  Brandon touched her chin. He said. "Don't worry about me, okay. Or try not to. I've got the meanest and deadliest bodyguard of them all." Claire laughed. Brandon kissed her again, this time a light peck on the corner of his mouth. He said. "When are you leaving? How long do I have you for?"

  "We're leaving tonight, actually." Claire said. She gave his hand a squeeze. "They're waiting for me now."

  "What?" Brandon said. "Your parents are here?"

  "Out front." Claire smiled, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Your uncle is entertaining them as we speak."

  "Are you crazy?" Brandon got up, pulling Claire to her feet. "You left your parents alone with my uncle? He'll have your dad running laps and your mom sharpening swords before too long, if he hasn't already." Laughing together, they went back into the house.

  Gerrick and the Moodys were out on the front porch, talking quietly, when Brandon and Claire came outside. Mr. Moody looked up and smiled. He said. "There you two are. I was about to ask Gerrick to look for you." Standing, he offered Brandon his hand. He said. "It's good to see you Brandon. How've you been?"

  Shaking Mr. Moody's hand, Brandon said. "I’m good. Glad Thanksgiving break is finally here." He looked at Mrs. Moody and smiled. "Claire was telling me about the trip, Mrs. Moody. Sounds like a lot of fun."

  Mrs. Moody smiled and said. "That's partly why we're here, Brandon. We were just suggesting to your uncle that you come with us. There's plenty of room and Claire would love to have you. With us, I mean." She blushed a little at her own choice of words. “We will be staying at Claire’s grandmother’s house, so there will be plenty of room, really.”

  Claire blushed harder than her mother. She looked at her mom and dad. She said. "You guys didn't say anything about this to me?"

  Mr. Moody shrugged. "We thought of it on the way here, honey bunny. We weren’t sure Mr. Merryweather would agree to let Brandon come with us.
But, with the things going on in town, the curfew and the disappearences, we thought it would be safer if you guys got some time away from Matheson. Florida is a good distance. The weather will be nice enough for Disneyworld, I think."

  "And?" Claire said, looking at Gerrick. "Can he go, Mr. Merryweather?"

  Gerrick shrugged. He looked at Brandon, meeting the younger man's gaze. Gerrick said. "It's up to Bran."

  Brandon felt like punching Gerrick in the mouth for making the decision his. He looked at Claire, at the hopeful look in her eye, and had to speak around a lump in his throat. He shook his head. He said, looking from Claire to her parents. "I'd love to go with you guys.” And he would have. But he had responsibilities that he couldn’t run away from. He felt torn as he said. “But Uncle Gerrick and I have some major spring cleaning to take care of before school starts back up."

  Claire said. "Couldn't that wait until spring?" She looked at him with a hurt expression. "We're talking about Disneyworld here. No curfew. Just us, together and safe."

  Brandon took Claire's hand and stared into her green eye and said. "There's one or two things that can't wait. Things that I have to take care of."

  "I can't talk you into waiting, can I?" Claire said. She looked over at her parents. They looked almost as disappointed as Claire. Mrs. Moody was watching Brandon with tight eyes. Mr. Moody was frowning and looking at his daughter. Claire squeezed his hand and said to her parents. "Mom. Dad. Could you wait for me in car? I want to say goodbye to Bran."

  "Sure, honey bun." Mr. Moody said, taking his wife's hand. He looked at Gerrick and let the affable and adoring father act slip a little as he said. "You two be careful. I’m not sure what’s going on in Matheson, but it’s not over yet. Until then, it's not very safe around here anymore."