Haunting Warrior (29 page)

Mumbling their versions of Oma’s tale between themselves, the people returned to their homes and the safety of their hearth fires. Only after the last door shut did Bain turn again to face the
clochán
. The man who’d seemed so formidable to Saraid when he’d first appeared now sagged against the door, his forehead pressed hard to the unyielding planks. Saraid felt the helpless rage that contorted his features. He was torn between what he knew and what he feared.

Twilight winked for only moments before dark smothered the color from the world. Soon it would be Saimhain, the night when the barriers between their world and the other would become so thin that they could be broken. It was a time when the superstitious beliefs of the people became insurmountable barriers that could never be breached.

Saraid heard a strange sound then and turned, seeking the source. It came again, a queer buzzing, the noise like fabric ripped in two. The young Bain lifted his head from the
clochán
door and looked around. He’d heard it as well. The eerie vibration raised the hairs on her arms and at the back of her neck as it became louder, more insistent.

Bain staggered back from the door with an expression of such horror on his face that Saraid nearly ran. What was it? Why did he look as though a demon from the deepest pit of hell might erupt into this world at any minute?

“What have y’ done?” Bain whispered, staring at the
clochán
like he would a sea serpent slithering from the waves.

And then suddenly there came a great reverberating boom. It shook the ground and swayed the mighty oak and yew trees. Saraid held her hands out at her sides for balance as it jarred the earth beneath her feet. The doors that had so recently closed flew open, and people raced out in the deluge, telling themselves it was thunder but not believing it. The reverberating boom sounded again, and a light flashed brightly against the horizon, growing like a flame set to tinder, only it wasn’t fire. It wasn’t anything that could be explained. The light flared unnaturally blue and violet and then it waned and the buzzing became a sound of bees, then whispers, then silence.

“What was that?” a balding man with buck teeth and tiny ears demanded. He made the sign to ward off evil as he stared into the darkness.

Others repeated the question in panicked tones and fearful shrieks. More than one woman had tears mingling with the rain on her face. Children cried, clutching the legs of terrified adults as they struggled to comprehend what had happened. Saraid watched as Bain straightened, turning away from the shelter that kept his wife. He squared his shoulders and moved toward the frightened people, raising his hands to calm and silence them. He looked steady and sure, and his calm presence soothed. Their faces tilted up expectantly, as if he was a god himself—as if just by saying there was naught to fear, it would become so.

“Doona be afraid,” he said. “There is nothing to fear.”

But even as he spoke, another deafening boom shattered the quiet and shook the earth with violence. Great bolts of blue lightning streaked from the sky and hissed down to lash against trees and homes, one cracking over the
clochán
with a shriek. The people huddled together, and a bolt struck the penned cattle just behind where they stood, making the animals scream in terror. Saraid saw the stampede an instant before it began. She whipped around, looking for shelter as people raced for the homes even as the lightning hissed and struck around them. Bain stood before the chaos with a look of disbelief and the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He was shouting orders that no one heard, trying to contain the terror that spread like hot oil down a slick wall. Another flashing bolt illuminated the pandemonium of the small village that had seemed orderly only moments before. In the distance, Saraid saw something else, someone approaching. The flash left her blinded as she struggled to find what she’d seen. A man? He’d been naked, his skin so white it had seemed to glow in the flashing brightness. Yes, it
was
a man and he had a child with him, naked as well. And like the ominous storm, they were coming this way.

R
ORY sensed something building in the forest around them. A pressure, rising higher as he watched. He hadn’t heard the voices again, but he had a sense that the men who’d spoken were not far away and there was no denying the feeling of tension coming from everywhere, deepening by the moment.

He shifted, looking down at the woman who slept curled against him, thinking again of that spooky moment when he’d thought he’d seen her standing beside her own body. But then, in a flash, the image had vanished, leaving him uneasy and wary.

Nothing like seeing things to scare the fatigue out of a person, though.
Since then he’d been wide awake, watching the woods, feeling the flux of life within it. It helped him to keep his mind off thoughts of Saraid’s mouth, her body, her fire. The way she’d looked at him when he’d told her about the night his father had disappeared. She couldn’t know that it had scarred him deeper than any other wound could. Yet, she’d seen it and she hadn’t been repelled by his shameful secret. She hadn’t even been particularly shocked.

She’d peered right into him, looked at that ugly rotting tumor he’d carried nearly his entire life, and she’d changed it.

It made no sense, but somehow in the space of moments, the weight of it had left. The pain had eased.

Now she shifted in her sleep, moaning softly. Her brows came together and a tear leaked from her eye. Was she having a nightmare? After all they’d been through, who could blame her?

“Saraid,” he said softly. “Wake up, princess.”

Her eyes opened at once, wide and filled with terror.

“Shhhh,” he murmured, smoothing the damp tendrils from her face. “It was just a dream.” She stared at him with disbelief, her pulse pounding at her throat. “Easy, girl.”

She took a deep breath and let it out, emerging from her nightmare by degrees, probably realizing she’d merely exchanged the sleeping version for the real-life one. Could she smell the danger that seemed to salt that night?

Rory gave her another moment before he stood, pulling her to her feet with him and brushing the twigs and barbs from her skirts. She waited like a child until he’d finished.

“You all right?” he asked at last.

She nodded hesitantly but still didn’t speak. He stared into her wide eyes, wanting to chase the darkness away, wanting to tell her there was nothing to fear. He wouldn’t lie to her, though. He couldn’t.

“We should probably get going again,” he said softly. “You ready?”

She gave him another nod, her eyes a little less wild now. “How long was I . . . did I sleep?”

“Not long. Maybe twenty minutes.”

She looked astounded at that. “Y’ were awake?”

“The whole time.”

“Did y’ see anything . . . ?”

Something unsaid dangled at the end of that question, but she didn’t finish, and so he simply answered, “No. Everything was quiet.”

He couldn’t tell if this reassured her or not. Her distress seemed to go deeper than their admittedly dire situation.

He handed her the water flask and watched her drink. Her hands were shaking.

“You sure you’re okay, princess?” he asked, frowning at the fear she seemed unable to hide.

“I dreamed,” she said simply, as if that should explain it all. Maybe it did, but Rory was still unconvinced that just a dream had so completely rattled her cage.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked.

“No.” The word burst from her lips. “No, I don’t.”

Ridiculously hurt by her vehemence, Rory capped the flask, took her hand, and started walking again. Saraid came along without complaint, without a word. Rory should have been grateful she wasn’t talking his ears off—or at the very least glad she wasn’t prying more secrets out of him. Instead he was worried, maybe even a little disappointed. So they’d shared a few confidences and a couple of kisses. That didn’t make them soul mates, for God’s sake, and yet . . .

They moved quickly while above the moon inched across the sky, and their feet covered uncertain terrain. Rory’s nagging thoughts chased each step until he was practically dragging Saraid behind him. He heard her gasp to catch her breath and forced himself to slow. The tension in the air had been growing with every step, and a bad feeling settled in his gut.

In a whisper, she asked, “Did y’ hear them again?”

He shook his head, but Saraid picked up on his disquiet, his sense that something waited just around the corner. She followed him close, graceful as a deer ready to bound away at the first sign of trouble.

Rory had no way to judge if they were moving into the whirl of danger or away. It seemed to be everywhere at once, so he could only keep walking and hope for the best. After a while he let his focus spread outward, tuning in to the sounds of the woods, the indignation of small squirrels and rabbits as they scurried out of sight. Slowly he became aware of something else, another emotion flooding the darkened woods. Emotion, that wasn’t his . . . yet he felt it in his head like he had earlier, when he’d caught the horse’s fear. Felt it like it was his own.

The sensation danced along his skin and teased every nerve in his body. Awareness. A consciousness of the moon in the sky, the trail it burned, the way it pulled the sun from the other side. Knowledge of the crisp air and the whisper of winter in the fall night. Every flutter of wings on every insect buzzed in his ear, every beating heart in every animal seemed to thrum with his own.

Instinct as old as the need to survive pushed to the surface and tried to block out what he was feeling. It wasn’t right, wasn’t
natural
that he could
feel
the forest. But it was there, under his skin, pulsing like the blood in his veins. Pretending it didn’t exist would not make it so.

He paused, took a deep breath.

“What is it?” Saraid asked softly.

“I don’t know. Just a feeling.”

She nodded and he forced himself forward, her hand warm in his. The need to protect her stronger than the need to protect himself. Whatever this
thing
was he’d suddenly tapped into, running from it didn’t seem the best course of action. He took another breath and then softly exhaled.

There was outrage rustling in the branches, vibrating through the animals hidden in their depths. It wasn’t an admonition, but a warning.
Caution.

He slowed, pulling Saraid to a stop beside him. She glanced at his face, caught the watchfulness in his eyes, and stilled. For a moment they remained that way, waiting for something to emerge, for some sound to betray the danger that so silently stalked them, but there was nothing to see, nothing to hear.

Frustrated, Rory listened harder even as a voice in his head jeered at him. The lurking menace would not be found with eyes or ears. He took another deep breath and shut his eyes.

His skin tightened and his stomach clenched as Rory pictured his mind as a fist, and he warily pried each finger up until it was open. He turned his senses outward, remembering how as a boy he’d been able to reach with his mind and snag the ebb and flow of the very wind. Rebelling against the unnatural ability even as he used it.

It had been a long time since he’d shut down that part of himself, but suddenly the tap was there, waiting for him to turn it on, unperturbed by his neglect. His senses circled unsteadily for a moment, but it was like riding a bike—only a few clumsy wobbles and then he found the balance he needed.

His mind exploded with sensation. The wind, filled with a million molecules, filled with a million more. Each one whispered against him, each one rasped as it passed by. The trees rejoiced in his touch, branches shuddering in ecstasy, leaves shivering with delight. The animals responded in like, curiously prodding at him, yammering in a deafening symphony to be noticed. It overwhelmed him, but he steadied himself, isolated his own thoughts, curled them into a protective hold, and then tried again, inch by inch, reaching out.

There was fur and scales, feathers and hide, shiny green leaves and rough brown bark. Beneath the earth, things creeped and crawled, antennae out and reaching, tapping his signal and responding with a pulsation of their own. And then his seeking consciousness rubbed against something foreign, alien. He felt it throb with a power like he’d never known in his life, and it drew him relentlessly closer, seducing his perceptions with every pulsing breath. He felt the heat, the perfume of her skin, the beating of her heart and knew without being told that it was Saraid. Saraid, burning and writhing in deep blues and swirling purple shadows. She pulled him like she’d been doing from the first moment he’d dreamed of her.

He couldn’t contain the surge she caused, couldn’t keep from surrounding her with his energy. She was like mink, softer than the mind could conceive, impossible to resist, impossible not to stroke.

He opened his eyes and saw her sway and catch herself against the trunk of a tree. Her eyes were huge, her face pale. Her shocked expression told him she’d felt him, in her head, in her body. Because he was everywhere now, as thin as the air, as dense as the woods. He pulled her with him, as bewildered as she by how he did it, even as they soared higher.

Like a web, he wove his consciousness from branch to branch, seeking what he didn’t know. His focus widened, sharpened. He heard the rasping croak of a frog, deep with warning. A badger lifted its head from a hole and paused its digging to sniff the shifting air, sensing the brush of Rory’s awareness as it passed over. It was a giddy feeling for them both, that touch, that acknowledgment that went beyond language, beyond sound. Overhead a bat swooped from one tree to another and settled, watching, listening.

Like a line, Rory followed its attention until he heard it, too. A vibration that shuddered on the air. Men. Several of them. Their voices were low, as if they, too, feared the forest around them. He felt their anger, their cruelty. Violence barely contained. There was a harsh, brash tone in their words and a distinctive stink about the light wind that wafted past them.