Lycan Fallout (Book 2): Fall of Man (15 page)

I kept eye contact, as somehow this seemed the right thing to do. I know some species’ regard this as an act of hostility, but I wasn’t getting that impression with the werewolf. I felt it was a focal point for Mathieu to use and hold on to. I sat down across from Mathieu, a small circle of stones containing cooling embers from a flame the only thing standing between the two of us. I was hoping the display of submission would keep him at bay, although the long streamers of drool hanging from his maw were not making me overly confident in my choice of actions.

What happened next blew what little mind I was still able to hold onto. Mathieu sat across from me. I noticed that he wanted to keep his eyes locked on mine as well. It was unspoken but important that we remain that way. Out from the center of my vision, I could see the thrum of his muscles. He was doing all in his power to hold onto the savage that wanted nothing more than to be released. They twitched and vibrated as if someone were holding a Taser to his chest, causing them to involuntarily spasm.

“It is good to see you up,” I told him.

His jaw clenched as I spoke. I couldn’t bring myself to say, “It is good to see you well.” Not in his current state anyway. We sat there for another hour, maybe more maybe less. Pretty hard to gauge time when you’re staring into the face of terror. When he abruptly stood, I did so as well. He leaped past me and into the woods. I barely had time to register that I wasn’t being attacked before he was out of sight. I breathed out a huge sigh of relief. Watching Mathieu die would have been bad enough, having to kill him would have been so much worse.

I was exhausted from the last few days. Yes, it was true that as I was I did not need much rest, but I did need some. Although, no friggin’ way was I going to take a power nap right now. I went and stood next to the shelter with the small rock wall to my back. It offered some measure of protection, not much really, but it felt good to have something like that behind me. No matter how hard I tried not to, I dozed a couple of times during the night. This I knew because my chin would hit my chest, and then I would raise it too quickly and smack the back of my head against the rocks. One would think, after the first go-around, that I would have moved; nope, not me. I stayed throughout the entire evening, banging my head five solid times. Mathieu did not return at any point or, if he had, it was during one of my small siestas.

I had expected his return almost immediately after the moon had departed. I was not all that concerned as the sun rose. Worry did not kick-in in earnest until sometime around noon. I had restarted the fire in preparation for the oncoming night when I heard grunting coming up the path. Sounded like a family of hogs was heading my way. I cautiously approached the oncoming sound. Of all the things I thought I might see, a naked Mathieu hefting a deer over his shoulder was not really on the list.

“This is heavy, could you please take it from me?”

I was knocked out of my daze. “Sure, sure, man,” I said as I wrested the animal away from him.

He didn’t say anything as he walked past me and up to the campsite.

“Weird.” Shaking my head, I turned and followed. “Oh, come on, man.” I turned my head as I came out of the path. Mathieu was bending over, picking up some clothes; I was “rewarded” with his backside in all its glory.

“You alright?” he asked when he stood up.

“The normal response should be, ‘I’m sorry.’ ” I was smiling. I was just so happy to see him alive and well. That awful bluish hue was gone from his body.

Mathieu’s tone and gestures were more of one who was extremely angry. I would learn later it was more of a response to extreme embarrassment or shame. He was pissed off that he had become a werewolf. I did my best to assure him that it was not his fault.

Mathieu pulled a shirt over his head, a scowl still on his face. Deep furrows lined his forehead. I saw his chest before he was able to pull the shirt completely down. All that was left of the wound that had nearly killed him the night before was a pinkish scar that would fade to near nothingness by the end of the week.

“Yeah, man, I’m fine,” I finally answered.

“Good.” He started to walk off.

“I’m going to cook this now, don’t you want some?”

“I already ate one.”

“Ate one what?”

“I caught two deer. I ate the other one.”

“You ate a whole deer?”

He shrugged.

“Where are you going?”

“I need time to be alone.”

“Didn’t you do that last night?” He did not answer. “I don’t know what is going on in that head of yours, but you should know that we’re fine. Nothing happened between us last night that would change anything.”

He nodded curtly and wordlessly walked past me. I waited a few moments, when I realized he wasn’t coming back immediately, I briskly rubbed my hands together and thanked the deer for the meal he was about to give me.

The general area was resplendent in the wonderful aroma of cooking venison. I was eating with reckless abandon when Mathieu finally showed back up.

“Good to see you.”

He nodded back, seeming to have loosened up a bit.

“What I wouldn’t do for some steak sauce,” I told him as I licked my fingers.

He crawled into the shelter. When I finally turned to look at him, it seemed as if he had fallen fast asleep.

“Was it something I said? Not the first person I’ve put to sleep, although it’s usually women.”

Chapter Twelve – Bailey

Bailey was exhausted by the time she got to the outer edges of Talboton’s influence. She’d pushed hard to get back before the moon could once again betray the human race. More often than not, she’d had to carry Breealla on her shoulders. Oggie had not returned in all that time, and she doubted if he would have been able to catch up either way.

“I hope you found whatever you were looking for,” she mumbled to the wind. It did not surprise Bailey in the least when she saw two armed men heading out to her. It was common for her town to patrol the area and even more so since they were at war with the Lycan.

“Do not move any further!” one of the approaching men shouted.

“Don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” an exhausted Bailey replied as she pulled a saddle sore Breealla from her shoulders. The girl could barely stand on her own. She looked like she was closing on ninety and her frail spine would no longer support her upper torso.

“Bailey?” the soldier approached.

“Hello, Chalton, how fair thee?” Bailey asked.

“Well, better than you perhaps. Pellon, get over here and help me.” He waved to the other man who rushed over.

“Bailey? It is good to see you. When we saw you leave with the demon and the Red Witch, we feared that we would never see you again. I should have known that of the three, you would most likely be the one to return. There are none stronger.”

“Pellon, will you stop trying to woo her right now? Help me get her back into town, if you haven’t noticed, she’s barely awake on her feet.”

Pellon smiled wanly at Bailey before he shouldered his rifle and leaned in to support her.

“What’s your name, little one?” Chalton was leaning down looking at Breealla.

“Breealla,” she answered shyly.

“Would you like me to carry you into town, Breealla?”

“Please don’t,” she answered solemnly.

“Little sore, are we?” He laughed. “Come then, let’s keep up with Bailey and my lovelorn friend.” He reached his hand down, which Breealla took willingly.

More townsfolk spilled out from their homes and businesses as news of Bailey’s return somehow spread. All were clamoring for information on what was happening to the world outside of their borders. Leading the pack was Chairperson Gount. She was one of the community leaders who ruled on a council that had recently been expanded to seven members.

In an unnatural show of affection he hugged Bailey. “I feared we had lost you, are you well enough for an emergency meeting, or would you prefer some rest?”

“It is good to see you as well, Chairperson. As much I would love to sleep for a week, we have many things that need discussing.”

“I will summon the Red Witch.”

“She is here?” Bailey felt apprehensive that Azile was present, as that seemed entirely too coincidental. “No need to summon.” Bailey was looking down the town’s main thoroughfare. It would have been difficult to miss the path Azile was cutting towards her, especially in the bright red cloak she draped herself in, whereas most of the people were clothed in earth neutral colors. Even if she were dressed in more muted colors the way people scurried out of her way would have made her progress unavoidably noticeable.

“Where is Michael?” Azile asked as she strode up.

“It is good to see you as well,” Bailey commented with a sneer.

“We are in the midst of a war, Bailey. I do not have time for niceties, it is imperative that I speak with Michael.”

Bailey kept her gaze with Azile, neither uncomfortable in the other’s scrutiny. “He is dead.”

Azile rocked on her heels as if the force of the words had nearly blown her over. Her face went ashen and she staggered, so much so, that Bailey had let go her steely gaze and reached out to steady the woman.

“This…this cannot be.”

“I assure you it can. It is my fault.” Now Bailey let her gaze waver from Azile’s.

Bailey gave a quick recounting of coming across the children and how she had pressured Michael into attempting to save them. She did not hesitate the retelling, even as she spoke about killing Nemmon, Breealla’s brother. “I waited for as long as I could for his return, but when it was clear to me that was not going to happen I felt it was my duty to get the girl to safety and to warn of what had happened.”

“This is my doing. I have gotten Tommy and now Michael killed. Two vampires who have lived for a combined age of over seven hundred years have both died within the last month because of me. What have I done?” The look of terror made Azile look more like the young woman she had been before witchcraft had unnaturally extended her life.

She was scared and now alone, as those who could understand her time and where she had come from were now gone. A war that they had previously had little hope of winning now looked futile. Azile felt like she was spiraling down a fast moving drain pipe.

“Azile?” Bailey had not yet let go of her forearm, thinking correctly that the witch had not yet secured her footing.

“What have I done, Bailey? I have doomed us all.”

“We will do what we have always done. We will fight.”

“Should I convene the council?” Chairperson Gount was looking on with a growing sense of dread and concern.

Azile had been a moment away from saying, “why bother?” but she reigned in her negativity. “Perhaps later. I am not feeling all that well.”

“Understandable,” Gount replied. “We are better off without him.” Gount had waited until Azile was well out of earshot before he spoke the words. Even so, he saw Azile pause and bristle. She did not turn, but continued on her current path.

“Better off in what way?” Bailey asked.

“I did not believe him to be who he said he was. And even, if by some cruel twist of fate, he were still alive, I believe that our town’s founder may have embellished the deeds to, in turn, make his own look more impressive.”

Bailey’s knife was out before she even realized she’d drawn it. The point of the blade was underneath Gount’s chin, pushing his head skyward. Soon he would look like a baby bird waiting expectantly for his mother’s return with a juicy morsel of regurgitated worms.

“How dare you question my lineage or that of Michael Talbot! He was as honorable and brave a man as I have ever met. While you were uselessly flapping your over-sized jowls, he was taking action and sacrificing his well-being for the safety of others. Now that he has paid the ultimate price for that, you would besmirch him? How about you get your lard packed ass out into the field and prove yourself.”

“I...I...I am too old,” Gount sputtered.

“And what did you do before your ‘advanced’ age?” Bailey sneered. “I mean, besides learn how to eloquently flutter your tongue inside your head? I’m sure the Lycan, when they come to our gates, will be just as enthralled when you speak as the populace here.” Bailey quickly sheathed her knife, a droplet of blood falling to the ground from where she’d just pierced the skin.

“There will be repercussions for this!” Gount shouted at her retreating back. He thought incorrectly that Bailey had used up all her anger; he was wrong and realized it when she turned around.

“What exactly do you mean by
repercussions
, Chairperson?”

Gount held his hands up in defense lest she brandish her knife again.

“You cannot threaten a councilman and not expect punishment. That is not the society we are building here!” Red flared up his cheeks.

“We are not going to have a society for much longer, Chairperson. When things really start to get bad, who do you think these people are going to want to lead them? Someone who knows what to do, or someone who can only
talk
about doing it? Keep that in mind before you act too hastily.”

Gount’s mouth slammed shut as Bailey looked down at him. Her fists weren’t quite closed, but they were moving in that general direction. Gount stormed off before the conflict could escalate any further.

Bailey brought Breealla back to her domicile after the child told her that she did not wish to go to the home of the village elder who could look her over for any injuries.

“He seemed mad.” Breealla was referring to Gount. She was seated on a small stool, watching as Bailey strode back and forth across the room stuffing clothes and supplies into a bag she had procured from a different room.

A knock came at the door a few moments later. Azile was standing on the entryway as Bailey opened the door.

“May I?” Azile asked, motioning her desire to come in.

“What do you want, Azile?”

Azile strode past Bailey when she realized she was not going to get an invitation. “Gount has called for an emergency session. It appears that he wants to have you thrown off the council and perhaps placed in custody.”

“He wouldn’t dare!” Bailey roared. “I should have shoved the knife up harder and maybe stirred some sense into that fat head of his.”

“Where are you going?” Azile asked, seeing the bag and a fair amount of drawers and cupboards open.

“I’m taking Breealla to Denarth. She will be safer there.”

“You have not heard?”

“Have not heard what, Azile? I have just returned from being out for over a month.”

“Denarth has closed her gates to all comers. They’d let in an infected person without knowing. She killed nine people before they were able to bring her down. There are rumors that they are preparing for war with Talboton.”

“War with us? For what reason? Have they gone insane?”

“They want the weapons.”

“Why don’t we just send some more riflemen?”

“They want them all.”

“They will be sacrificing their people in a vain attempt to get these weapons, and we will be using our already diminished supply of bullets to deter them. Even if they somehow won, the rifles would be nearly useless by that time.”

“It is a no-win situation, but no amount of convincing on my part would dissuade them from their present course of action. They believe Talboton to be sitting on a nearly limitless supply of ammunition. You could not even prevent the war by giving them the rifles, for they would still attack, looking for this supply.”

“This is madness. The world has gone insane.”

“Perhaps Michael was right; any world with man will always be unsettled. Is any of it worth saving?”

“Are you alright, Azile? I have seen you plenty angry before but never…never this. You seem defeated.” Bailey had calmed considerably when she realized there was someone in more need than herself.

Azile had her hands clasped in front of her down by her waist, looking intently at where her fingers were intertwined. “I loved him. I still do.”

Bailey knew enough not to question who, as it was obvious when Azile’s demeanor had changed so quickly upon hearing the news.

“He saved me. Not many know that. Well, I guess really only you and I, now that he and Tommy are gone. I’d been kidnapped, and he rescued me in this ridiculous outfit. Some clothes he’d found that were about three sizes too small.” She laughed a little while also wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “I fell for him the moment I saw him. Back then, he was close to double my age, so I guess it was more of a fatherly thing—him saving me and all. He was so kind and ruthless when he needed to be. He protected those close to him like a demon possessed.” She was crying now. Bailey pulled up another stool for her to sit on.

“I’m sorry,” she said after she finally composed herself. “I watched him waste away spiritually in that house for close to a hundred years, each year telling myself that this was going to be the one I professed my love for him. I think that I didn’t because I was so sure he was going to reject me. His love for Tracy almost bordered on the mythical. Two people could not be more soul-bound than they were. Their energy would find each other no matter the circumstances. I did not think that I could ever compete with that, so I let him be. There was still a lot of the man I used to know, but there was also a large part that had been blocked off and had since blackened and rotted away like the skin of a dying man.”

“The Red Witch kept her tongue silent for that long? Please excuse me if I am having a hard time believing that.” Bailey sat down next to Azile. “I would not think that anything would intimidate you so.”