The Second Coming (26 page)

***

John panicked
as his search for Meega dragged. They had been at port for hours
and the men on the ship rushed to unload and take on fresh
supplies. Baron Jorge had been of little help. Miguel searched the
docks in case Meega had left the ship unaware.

John ran his
fingers through his shaggy mane, pulling his hair as he searched.
Even the darkest recesses of the ship revealed no trace of her, and
the Nameless Ones, with their silent gestures, had no knowledge of
her. He had sensed only truth from them.

What had he
done, bringing a little girl on such a trip?

He felt
sick.

Baron Jorge
approached him, his eyes no longer set with a twinkle.

“
I am afraid I have not seen her.” The man hung his head.
“Perhaps the sea took her as an offering.”

Tears welled
up in John’s eyes. He clutched the wooden doll to his chest and
pulled his pack against his back; its rigid contents pressed
against him.

Little One,
what have I done?

And John knew
that redemption was never to be his. He looked to his hands, hands
that were never meant to heal or to love, but only to inflict pain
and death. He felt his heart solidify in that moment, like it had
once been, like when his brother had been chosen over him.

Stone.

He let the
doll fall to the deck of the ship and wrenched the drawstrings of
his pack once more. The ancient blade pressed harder against
him.

He said
nothing to the Baron, simply nodded his head and then strode from
the man’s presence. He collected what few things he had brought
with him, a few tools of his former trade. He stared at the steel
objects before him; all dull with lack of use over the years. He
would need the blades sharpened.

He placed them
with care among some of Meega’s clothing to mask their rattling.
She would no longer need them. He packed his worn leather bible as
well as a shard of mirror that he took from the Baron’s chambers.
With these slung over his shoulder, Friar John made his way down to
the docks, abandoning his senses and Friar Miguel at the port city
of New Boston. He had been chosen for a task and he would now see
it done.

John strode to
the edge of the city, marching through its cobbled streets.

The place
stunk. It wasn’t just the city. It was the land. It smelled of
stagnation and refuse.

Heated blood
coursed through his veins. In the commercial part of the city, the
area where the rich Barons sold their wares, he found the place
where he could whet his blades. He aimed for the one that had older
stones and sold his services to the less fortunate. A man like
that, in the interest of making money, would keep his fat trap shut
and not question the sorts of devices that John required to be
sharpened.

And it was as
expected. The near toothless lout did just that with no word or
look at what sort of man would carry such diabolical devices. And
he smelled as bad as the land.

John then set
out for the crossroads of need and insatiable desire. Along its
rubbish-strewn streets, he eyed a young man, dressed in enough rags
to barely cover areas that most would consider private. At the
other end of the street, there was a woman garbed in much the same.
The sun caught her stark-red hair and John knew exactly which path
to take. He walked to the entrance of an alleyway and motioned for
his victim to join him. John gave a coy smile, one that alluded to
a desire other than what he intended. He grabbed himself in a
sudden lurch that hurt his loins, but he bit back the pain. With
his newly sharpened tools, he stood waiting with patience and a
different form of desire set in his eyes —one that would rid
himself of any softness.

He thought of
the book of Revelation as he waited.

I know thy
works, and charity, and service, and faith, and thy patience, and
thy works; and the last to be more than the first.

With every
step she took towards him he thought of his chances for redemption,
lost. With every footfall, he contemplated the challenge before him
and immersed his heart and mind in a sea of darkness he thought he
had long abandoned.

Notwithstanding I have a few things against thee, because thou
sufferest that woman Jezebel, which calleth herself a prophetess,
to teach and to seduce my servants to commit fornication, and to
eat things sacrificed unto idols.

His skills
were old, unhoned, and required practice. The cold blades in his
hands slid against each other, a clean and deliberate slice. His
ears delighted in their slow grating.

And I gave her
space to repent of her fornication; and she repented not.

His victim
sauntered towards him, a stride of those that have practiced this
profession well. She was a half-breed; and the part of her that was
Naiad had taken control. Her desires were insatiable; her footsteps
intense. She drew near.

Behold, I will
cast her into a bed, and them that commit adultery with her into
great tribulation, except they repent of their deeds.

She stood
before him and exposed her white flesh. She waited for his hunger
and he gave it to her with all his might.

The blades
pierced her, in a place that suppressed her scream.

And I will
kill her children with death; and all the churches shall know that
I am he which searcheth the reins and hearts: and I will give unto
every one of you according to your works.

The scarlet
hair spilled over his arm and John trapped her soul in the crude
ceramic urn he had purchased in the market. It was set with a spell
and sigils to house souls. John left her body in the alley as well
as his outer robe. It was stained crimson.

He strode into
the street, making for the edge of the city and then hummed a few
bars of Ave Maria as he walked.

It somehow
brought him comfort.

***

Seven days
later, after hugging the shores of Lake Michigami and then heading
south and west to trace the broad path of the Illinois River, Paine
and the others tracked the footprints of the survivors to a small
town called Perry. It lay ten miles north of where the Illinois
River shook hands with the mighty Mississippi. Great Bear chose to
leave Two Moon to his own fate, determined not to delay finding the
survivors of Haven. No one had disagreed with him.

The
Mississippi River, lined with white oak and red buckeye, swept past
them. The soft sound of the waters greeting the rock-strewn shore
soothed Paine’s frazzled state. He was tired of running.

As the midday
sun melted into the horizon, they were greeted by some of the
survivors — Haudenosaunee warriors on lookout. Great Bear spoke
with them hurriedly in his native tongue, and then charged on. The
others spurred their horses to follow.

When they
reached the camp, they found a large clearing full of people, their
faces drawn and filled with desolation. The few greetings they
received were only half filled with cheer. Great Bear and Truitt
approached an old man and woman. Two men from Lindhome stood with
them, Lastborn. They were both dark of hair and eyes, brothers from
what Paine could tell.

Paine
dismounted and approached, catching Truitt's words. “Lindhome is
gone?”

The taller of
the brothers clenched his fists. “Demons and wolfen poured into
Lindhome from the north — hundreds of them. They came upon us in
the night. The protection of Lindhome was breached and the full
evil of the Westwood flooded in.”

Truitt looked
up. “How is that possible? The barrier should have kept the
Westwood out.”

The shorter
one hung his head. “Elenya's Soul was lost.”

The old man
that stood beside him reached to his chest, pressing his hand over
his heart. He muttered something inaudible. He looked at the
brothers, bags under his aged eyes.

His sagging
jowls quivered.

Truitt looked
at the old man. “Gregor, you were there when the orb was created,
how could it have been lost?”

Gregor poked
his staff into the ground. “Someone has discovered the nature of
its power and turned it against us.”

The taller of
the two brothers eyed the Witch Hunter who stood beside Great Bear,
still clamped in chains. He spat on the ground.

“
What is her kind doing here?”

Great Bear
stepped in front of her. “She is to be freed of the Wormwood, and
questioned.”

“
I want to be there when you question her, for as we ran from
the demons, the Confederation was waiting for us. It was a
slaughter. I want to know what she knows.”

Truitt's eyes
raged. “What?”

“
We had been expecting the Confederation after you left. There
was rumor they were invading the mining towns, but they reached us
sooner than we expected. We fought hard, but in the end, many were
lost. Those that escaped are heading this way, a day behind us,
running from the Confederation. A few of us were sent ahead to
prepare for crossing the river.” He spat once more, this time
striking the Hunter’s face. “If we do not get answers from her, I
will gut her myself.”

Gregor cleared
his throat. “How many of Lindhome are left?”

“
Four hundred.”

“
Out of two thousand?”

Silence sat
heavy on the air until the old man lowered his head. “Then we must
flee.”

***

Paine woke to
find Fang at his side. He remembered her crawling in beside him
before sunrise. His head swam with fatigue, tired from another
night of terrors. The demon that stalked his dreams was
relentless.

The day
brought little to keep him distracted. Those he traveled with were
busy making preparations for a potential defense. Even Puck was
busy, enthralled with a young woman from Haven. Paine caught her
name in passing — Farin. Apparently she was responsible for sending
Diarmuid to them. She, too, was from the south and knew that a
great many needed saving. Thankfully, Paine thought, Diarmuid had
taken her advice.

He looked at
Puck. Yet again the young man failed to hide the type of interest
he had in the woman. Farin didn’t seem to mind.

Later in the
afternoon, after seeing Great Bear talk to a short, older
Haudenosaunee woman, Paine finally found some company.

“
Greetings, child. I am Little Doe, but most here call me
Mother, for I am a Clan Mother among our people.”

Her smile was
warm and made him think of hot stew on a cold day.

“
I have heard of your long journey. I can see on your face the
weariness you bear from the great hunt. They are wearing you down,
but you must find courage, Little Badger. There will be rest in the
end.”

Little Badger
.
The name made him smile.

She reached
out and Paine took her hand without thinking. They walked through
the camp, no one paying them heed, except for Fang, who loped along
at his side. Little Doe stopped in front of a deer-hide tent, the
smell of freshly tanned leather and sage emanating from it.

“
Sit.”

She gave him
some dried venison to eat and he accepted it gratefully. They sat
in silence for some time, Paine enjoying the peace — an easiness
that seemed to be a part of the Earth itself. And somehow the
woman’s presence, in addition to Fang’s, made the aching in his
heart almost completely disappear.

She put her
hand on his shoulder. There was comfort in her touch.

“
Your worries are great.”

He swallowed.
“What happened to Haven? There are so few here.”

“
We fled Haven as the packs of wolfen and demons invaded.
Their numbers were too many.”

“
But your people were there.”

The old woman
shook her head. “We did not have the full strength of our people.
If the others had come, we might have stood a chance against
them.”

“
Where were they?”

“
Building our new villages.”

“
Didn’t you send for them?”

“
Yes, Two Moon sent messages for them to meet us in Haven.
Something must have gone wrong.” She shook her head. “Foolish boy.
He went on a futile hunt to avenge his family. We will probably
never see him again.”

“
I’m sure he’ll come back.” He tried to sound reassuring, but
his voice lacked the sincerity.

She shook her
head. “Not since the Wendigo have I had such an ill feeling in my
gut.”

“
The what?”

She seemed
hesitant to answer. “The Wendigo —a creature that stalked us long
ago, taking our people in the night. I used to get a bad feel when
it came and the night it slaughtered over fifty of our people I was
sick for three days. I have not shared this with others, Little
Badger, but I can see honesty in your eyes. Keep this to yourself,
young one; my gut churns over this.”

“
Is it the Wendigo?”

She shook her
head. “No, that creature—“

Sudden
shouting turned her attention. At the river, near the water’s edge,
Paine saw a crowd surrounding the Hunter. She lay on the ground,
convulsing. The Clan Mother ran over, fast for her age. She knelt
at the woman’s head and held it as the Hunter shook. Her arms
flailed and legs kicked and then a sudden stiffness took her. She
was rigid, like a plank. She shook her head in a slow, jerky
motion. Each turn looked painful. She showed teeth, a grin of
either glee or malice, and her eyes turned from side to side. Paine
felt as though she strained to see him where he stood, like she
searched him out. Then the Hunter spoke and it was like her tongue
was not her own.

It was a voice
that was grinding and deep, an old voice that was slow with its
words. “… I know who you are. I feel you. I am coming …” She paused
as her voice rasped. She strained to breathe.