The Unraveling, Volume One of The Luminated Threads: A Steampunk Fantasy Romance (29 page)

Annmar scoured the shadowed ground. No pests in sight. With what everyone said about their habits, she must have time for a few sketches. “That would be nice. Thanks.”

“It’ll be a minute. I promised biscuits to a couple of the others. And Rivley. He’s a little off at me and needs some buttering up.”

He gathered the treats and left. Annmar wandered among the trees, still checking the ground while peering eastward, looking for the right spot. Having some of these branches frame it would be good, over the split-rail fence.

“Ann Marie?” a woman called behind her.

She whirled. A figure separated from the shadow of a tree trunk. She was short and small-framed, with waist-length hair flowing over her shoulders. A taller, broader man appeared behind her. He nodded serenely and leaned against the tree while the woman advanced alone.

Annmar’s moment of fright dissolved. “Hello,” she called to the woman.

“I’m Patrice,” she said. “We have not met.” Patrice didn’t offer her hand, and neither did Annmar, not after her experience with Old Terry.

“No, but I remember you.” Very well. The tree nymph moved in the same lithe way her image had in Annmar’s peach jam-induced vision. Her gray tunic, shining silver in the moonlight, clung to the same swells and curves visible among the same shifting strands of hair. Oh, what freedom this woman possessed to display her body this way. She looked so natural, so right. “I’m pleased to see you again.”

“The pleasure is mine. This may be my only chance to speak with you.”

Annmar cocked her head. “Are you…we not allowed?”

“Nothing like that.” Patrice smiled. “First frost always puts a damper on our activities. One never knows when that may be. Besides, I don’t venture outside my tree much.”

“But I saw you…”

The tree nymph pinched her fingers together like she was holding a pencil. “You drew me out.”

“I didn’t know that would happen. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Patrice laughed lightly, a fluttering of leaves in the wind, and stroked a hand over Annmar’s cheek in a motion that was as smooth as peach fuzz. “I liked showing you myself,” she said softly. “My tree, my flowers, my fruits.”

In that simple reciting, all the special feelings of Annmar’s Knack discovery came flooding back, like a shared secret. “You were my first drawing of this kind. It’s special to me.”

Patrice nodded solemnly. “You left me something special in return.” She swept her hair over one shoulder, then petted its length to her hip. “Thank you for my hair.”

“But it was yours all along, and beautiful. I enjoyed drawing it.”

Patrice laughed again. “You are such the innocent. As autumn advances, our nutrients shift to shutting down. Normally, this takes a toll on my hair, making it lose luster and thickness. Because of your intervention—your drawing—my vitality is renewed. I feel full of life, instead of worn from my season.”

A shiver of excitement ran through Annmar. Patrice’s revitalization was a plant-style copy of Daeryn’s healing.

“I’m honored.” Patrice smiled gently. “There aren’t many like you who come here. The plantas, of course, but they sense our needs rather than really communicate. I hope to see you again, sweet Ann Marie.”

She waved and tiptoed away, drifting to the man. He took her hand, smiled and nodded to Annmar. In that instant, his image flashed. A beech, tall and stately, growing on the southern edge of the farm. They walked past the farmhouse, headed to his tree.

Annmar rubbed her hands over her arms, brushing the light blouse sleeves against her goose bumps.
There aren’t many like you.
But there were some. Annmar would find them. Her drawing had helped Patrice. Certainly she had healed Daeryn. She had to talk to him.

The tree couple disappeared behind distant rows of orchard trunks. Above the trees, the crescent moon glowed, brightening the night sky to bluish and paling the stars within its range. Annmar crossed to the split-rail fence, where a branch framed the moon in an interesting twist, its leaves fluttering in the slight breeze. Perfect. She tugged her sketchbook and a pencil from her satchel. Tonight, she’d just enjoy a bit of her usual sketching.

Dried leaves crunched behind her, the sound of running footsteps. She turned to warn Henry not to trip, but the figure was too big for the boy. And coming fast.

chapter thirty-three

Backing to the
fence, Annmar clenched her art materials, her heart racing. “Henry?” she still asked, not wanting to believe she was alone with one of those wild-looking men—a ropen.

“Nah, it’s Paet,” he rasped out, stopping yards from her and bending over to catch his breath. “The wolf bitch needs your help.”

“Jac? My help?”

He pointed, opposite the direction he’d come from. “Fruit trees past the house. Other side of the gate. Jac’s there.”

Annmar edged toward the farmhouse, if only because it put distance between them.

He drew a gasping breath and half-turned away. “Hurry!” he called over his shoulder and trotted off in the direction of the bunkhouse.

She stumbled a few more steps, her gaze on him. He wasn’t coming with her. Thank heavens. If Jac thought she could help, Annmar didn’t want to let her down. But she didn’t want to go anywhere in the dark with that ropen. She strode along the fence, ducking under the branches spreading from the peach trees lining it. Except for her footsteps, the orchard between the house and the cemetery was silent. The gate wasn’t far, just past the kitchen garden at the front of the house. Would she hear Jac once she was there? Or should she call out?

Wait a second.
Annmar stopped to listen, scanning the moonlit headstones beyond the fence rails, on down to the gate’s stone pillars. The fruit trees on the
other
side of the gate belonged to a neighboring farmstead, not Wellspring. No sounds of farmworkers came from the gate, those trees or along the empty road leading to town. Just a lone carriage stood silhouetted at the end of the cemetery, its horse stamping in the harness.

A shiver ran down her spine. Why would Jac be outside Wellspring’s gate? Annmar didn’t know much about the night guards’ duties, but she did know they only guarded the farm property.

Something about this wasn’t right. She spun on her heel and ran back the way she’d come, her pounding feet matching her heartbeats. A shadow sprang from behind a peach tree.

She screamed as Paet grabbed her arm and jerked her around. Wild hair framed a dark face that showed only the whites of his eyes and teeth. “Yer goin’ the wrong way.”

Annmar shoved him. “Let—let me go!”

One big hand swept under her arm and clenched below her elbow. Lifting her to tiptoes, he marched her toward the gate. “Help out a poor worker, missy.”

Did he mean himself or Jac? She didn’t know. She struggled to push out of his hold.

He gripped her even harder. “Come on, now,” he cajoled. “Just talkin’. You’ll be nice and comfortable.”

“No. Stop it!” she shrieked. He held her too tight. He was walking too fast. Annmar clenched her fist and swung at his belly. Her knuckles bounced off hard muscles.

Paet laughed. “Don’t try my patience, girly. We need a break, and someone’s handing us one.”

The stone pillars of the gate loomed ahead. She couldn’t leave Wellspring. If he got her away from the farm, the other workers… She fisted her stinging hand and hit him again. “Help!” she screamed. “Hel—”

He slapped her. Annmar’s head snapped sideways.

“None of that,” he snarled. He lifted her and shook her hard. Her head rattled like a loose knob, and she lost her breath. Then he dropped her. Everything stopped with a jolt of hurt. She gasped. It was seconds, or possibly longer, before she realized his hands were on her again.

He yanked her to her feet. Her head split with pain. No, this wasn’t happening. She tried again to shove him away. “No, don’t. Don’t,” she whimpered, but Paet batted her arms and slapped her again. Lights sparked behind her eyelids.

Paet picked her up. The fetid mix of sweat and guano filled her nostrils.

“This ain’t the easy job he claimed. We’ll be chargin’ more to get you over—”

Grrrorrr.

Something slammed into them. Paet dropped her. He tripped, and his weight crushed her to the ground, squeezing the breath from her lungs, and before she could suck it in again, she was tumbled over and over in a confusion of beating fists and fur.

They rolled away, and she was free. She screamed.

The snarling and growling figures spun into her again. She curled into a ball, trying to protect herself. Fur, stink, a jabbing elbow, then something wet spattered over her hands and face.

She had to get away. She scrambled aside, but the world spun when she tried to get to her feet. She stumbled to a tree and held on to the trunk. The ground tilted.

“What’s going on?” someone shouted from afar.

“Help,” Annmar screamed, not loud enough. She sucked a breath and forced out a louder yell. “Help!”

“You’ll…be sorry,” panted Paet. “I aim…to get my money.”

A fierce snarl answered, and involuntarily, Annmar’s gaze rounded to Paet struggling to escape the darting, twisting animal. The shadowy beast jerked forward and sank its teeth into Paet’s arm.

Daeryn. The round ears and long body had to be Daeryn, though the wrinkled snout and bared teeth looked nothing like the docile polecat she’d drawn. Her furious attacker howled and swatted Daeryn.

Paet had tried to carry her from Wellspring. From his confusing talk about money, he still might if he had the chance. She screamed for help again and again, while tripping from one tree to the next. She held to their trunks, trying to clear her head. The polecat had latched on to Paet’s shoulder, but he was small, too small against the large ropen. Could she make it to the bonfire and help?

But in those seconds, the ropen punched the polecat and sent him sailing a dozen feet away. Daeryn landed with a
thud
.

Oh!
Annmar teetered, unsure what to do. Another call from the orchard made the ropen’s head turn. He saw her. “Help,” she shouted and ran the best she could.

Paet thundered after her. Her arm snapped back, held tight in his huge hand. He jerked her to the fence and shoved her at the opening between the rails. She tripped into the post and wrapped her arm around the wood. It felt like honey under her fingers, and the air around it was thick and clingy. Paet pulled. She held on. She had to. If she could just stay on this side—

Then he slapped the back of her head and everything went black.

Chapter thirty-four

The center of
Daeryn’s face throbbed. He struggled to clear his head. Which direction to face? To attack? Annmar wasn’t screaming anymore, and he couldn’t find her scent.

He heard others calling in the orchard, but couldn’t wait. Shadows moved at the fence. He lunged for them at the same time a wolf charged past and slammed the larger figure.

Maraquin. Following her snarls and Paet’s spitting curses, Daeryn leaped. Another huge body dropped from the sky. It swung for him, claws sinking into his hind limb. Daeryn twisted, muscle tearing and burning, pain roaring out on a growl as he grabbed Maxillon’s leg and held on. More people jumped in, Henry yelling and James swearing, all blurring while he clung to the spinning body that jumped, kicked and shrieked without touching the ground. Wyatt appeared, agilely dodging and throwing punch after punch into the ropen. A furious Jac pummeled in and knocked Daeryn aside.

He fell, then struggled to his paws. Somewhere behind him, Rivley shouted for Mary Clare, then he too dove into the fray, his yells joining Maraquin’s snarls from the left. Daeryn bunched his muscles and lunged. Bodies canted, turning as one, several darting forward in a burst of speed, but he collided with a waving elbow.

“Shit, Dae, I nearly had him again,” James bellowed in disgust, but he smacked a hand to his bleeding thigh and hobbled sideways. “Get ’em,” he yelled.

Daeryn spun around, his head continuing to wheel. A dark figure sailed over the fence…no, two figures. One ropen carrying the other. Daeryn darted forward, but one of the wolves galloped past. She jumped the rails. The second wolf followed. Wyatt and Riv scrabbled over. Daeryn passed Henry and ducked under. He could just make out the blurry ropen flapping its huge wings above the gravestones.

“Hold on,” Wyatt called. “Only way we’re gonna catch them is on the wing. Rivley, with me?”

What? That was just bald-faced dangerous for diurnals to shift at night.

“Can’t,” Rivley answered. “Think I broke some fingers.”

“Don’t you risk it,” shouted James. “Jac and Maraquin have got this, if anyone does. Everyone else stop where they are.”

What the hell was going on? Daeryn leaped up on the nearest grave marker—and nearly toppled over the other side because he misjudged the distance. His view wasn’t good—his damned eye was swelling shut—but he could see enough. The wolves darted through the stones. The ropens, flying a straight line, outpaced them by a long shot. They were headed for town…odd.

Wyatt spun around, yanking his shirt back on. “What started all this?”

Henry jabbered out his account of Paet trying to lead Annmar away. “Then Daeryn jumped him, like a tiger. Most ferocious thing I’ve ever seen, and coming from the smallest ’cambire. But that ropen couldn’t stop Daeryn.”

No, he didn’t let Paet win, because if he had, Annmar would be gone. But why did he want her? Did Annmar know? Thank the Creator she was on Wellspring property, easily found.

Daeryn jumped down—and missed his footing. He kept going before any of the others noticed. Once inside Wellspring’s boundary, he tripped on a root, something he never did, and sank to the ground, his face and leg throbbing. Just a minute’s rest, then he’d go look. He lay on his belly in the cool grass, panting open-mouthed. The others returned, grumbling at not catching the ropens, rehashing the fight.

“We had that one, wing tattered completely,” Henry said, “until the bigger one got here.”

“Damned ropens,” Wyatt said. “Never thought they’d escape with wing rips that serious.”

Grr-amn
. Maraquin spat. “He tastes awful. I need to soap my mouth.”

“That’s not far from the truth,” James said. “Everyone in for cleansing before we hit the fields again.”

“Hell,” Jac snapped. “We’re down to us again. At least I sent Maraquin after Paet when the ass snuck off from his section. I knew he was up to something, but not…I don’t even want to think it.”

Daeryn didn’t either. He had to get his breath. His nose wasn’t working right. Panting was downright painful. He changed— “Owwww.”

“Great Creator.” Maraquin hobbled to his side. “You are such a yellow-livered…ah, hell. Some help over here.”

“Never mind me.” He pushed up to his knees and searched around. “Has anyone seen Annmar?”

Rivley walked up, holding one hand. “Mary Clare got her out of here.” He peered down, then clasped Daeryn’s forearm and helped him to his feet.

“Thank the Creator.” Daeryn sagged downward.

“No you don’t, buddy.” Rivley boosted him again. “Up. We’re heading straight to the sickroom. I’m not sure the demon didn’t take off your nose.”

“You’re kidding?” Jac shoved her way between them and turned his face. Her hand loomed double and fuzzy in his vision—

Daeryn jerked back. “
Bloody hell!
Watch what you’re doing.”

She dropped her hand without touching him. “Nah, you’re a night-blind hawk, Riv. There’s a lump under all that blood.”

“You idiots.” Daeryn batted her away. “It has to be there. It hurts like hell.”

“Henry,” Wyatt said, “get to the house and tell Miz Gere. Have her send someone for Miriam and Mr. White.”

The blond boy stumbled ahead. Jac put an arm around Maraquin to help her, and with Wyatt shouldering Daeryn’s side opposite Rivley, the group began a slow limp toward the house.

“Half of us won’t make it back out tonight,” Jac grumbled, “thanks to those bloody bastards. They won’t get far.”

Daeryn tried to summon some encouragement, but he couldn’t. Wellspring was doomed.

“Mar,” James said. “Your rear looks like Daeryn’s face.”

She gingerly twisted to have a look. “Feels like it, too.”  She shrugged and gave Daeryn a light punch on the shoulder. “You really like her, don’t you?”

She voiced the question in an oddly gentle way. Damn, his face must be really bad. Suddenly, he felt sick. And exhausted. He let Riv and Wyatt take his weight. “Fell for her the moment I met her.”

“The moment you met her? But that was days before Mar…” Jac smacked his bare chest.

“Ow.” Daeryn fell into Rivley. “What’d you do that for?”

“You ass. You let another girl in your bed when you knew you liked the city girl. What kind of an idiot are you?” Jac ranted, while beside her, Maraquin bit her lip.

“Enough already,” Rivley said. “He knows it.”

“Sure do,” Daeryn muttered. “Now.”