Viator (The Viator Chronicles Book 1) (15 page)

Michael slid his hand over its entire surface.

“It feels as beautiful as it looks,” he said. “Do you know any Native American owl stories?”

Erin laughed. “Only a few.” She was surprised at how easy it was to talk with him. “But come here. You should see these two paintings—the sun and the moon.”

They studied the paintings for a few minutes in silence until Erin said, “The inscription you wrote to me in your book—what did you mean? I don’t understand.”

He studied her face, hesitating, and reached out and smoothed a strand of her hair that had fallen out of place. His touch tingled against her cheek. He stood very close. She noticed he had a fine scar above his left brow. His face looked chiseled and hard as the stone of the owl. “You’re a viator,” he said.

Just then Hannah peeked into the room. “There you are. I was hoping you were still here. I was finally able to get away from the bakery. Have you seen Aleesha? I can’t find her anywhere.”

“No, I don’t know where she’s gone,” Erin said. She looked at her watch. “Oh, no, I’ve got to go. I’m due back at the store in three minutes.” She turned to Michael and said, “I’m sorry. I’m sure Hannah will be happy to show you around more.”

“Of course, I’d love to,” Hannah said.

Erin clasped his hand and squeezed it tight for a moment.

“Thank you, Erin. I hope to see you again soon,” Michael said.

“Me too.” Her lavender dress swirled around her legs as she turned and almost ran out of the room.

*****

Michael followed her to the door and watched as she rushed down the sidewalk toward the music store. He felt an urge to follow her, but instead he turned to Hannah. “I think Aleesha is showing my brother around. Perhaps we should find them.”

They found Bruce and Aleesha sitting on a bench in the garden behind the gallery. Aleesha was laughing at something Bruce had just said. Bruce grinned at his brother, and Michael frowned at him, shaking his head slightly.

“Aleesha, some of your guests are wondering where you went,” Hannah said.

She stood up and looked at her watch. “Goodness. The time completely got away from me. I’m so sorry, dear.” She rushed past Hannah into the gallery.

“What are you trying to do?” Michael asked Bruce as soon as Aleesha was gone. Hannah stood in the doorway.

Bruce’s smile grew. “She’s charming.” He looked over at Hannah with laughing eyes. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” she said.

Michael gave Bruce a little shove on his shoulder and shook his head. They all walked back into the gallery, headed to the buffet table, and loaded some plates. As they munched stuffed mushrooms and crab cakes, they looked at the art around the room. Aleesha soon rejoined them, her red skirt swishing and her face beaming.

“Michael, I’m so sorry I’ve neglected you,” she said. “Did Erin have to leave? Did she show you around?”

“Yes to both questions. She showed me some of her favorite pieces, and she entertained me so well that you have no reason to think I was neglected.”

“I’m so glad.”

Bruce put his empty plate down and slipped an arm around Aleesha’s waist. “Why don’t you show us some of your favorites now?” he asked, his mouth close to her ear.

Hannah’s mouth dropped open as she looked first at Bruce, then at Aleesha. With a faint smile on his face, Michael watched Aleesha lead his brother away into the next room.

Chapter 20

Erin felt distracted the rest of the afternoon. She wished she had been able to stay at the gallery a little longer. What had Michael meant? He’d called her a viator, as if it were a title. She gave two piano lessons, and at five o’clock she was ready to leave when the phone rang. She picked it up, “Anacortes Music.”

“Hi.”

“Gary, are you back in Seattle?”

“Yeah. Got in this afternoon. It was an exhausting trip. Glad I’m back. I’d like to see you. Are you working all week?”

Erin shifted in her chair. “Yes, of course.”

“Let’s have dinner soon.”

“Sure. But that’s a long way to drive just for dinner. Are you sure you want to do that?”

Gary was silent a moment. “Yes, I’m sure.”

She turned to face the window. “I’m busy Tuesday and Thursday, so would Wednesday work for you?” she asked.

“What are you doing Tuesday and Thursday?”

“Matt has a soccer game and Gwen has ballet,” Erin said.

“Oh. Wednesday’s fine. I’ll drive up in the afternoon.”

The wind stirred the blossoms in the cherry tree outside the window, and petals swirled to the street and sidewalk.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you Wednesday, then. Where?”

“How about your place?”

“All right. I should be home from work by five-thirty.”

“I’ll be there. Goodbye.”

Erin set the phone down. She was flattered and surprised that he wanted to come and see her right away. She gathered her purse and jacket and drove home. As she drove she stopped thinking about Gary, though, and instead she wondered about Michael and what he could have meant by calling her a viator.

*****

The sky was growing dark when Erin put down the book she’d been reading to Gwen. They were cuddling together on the couch, and the only light was the nearby table lamp. Outside the sky was clear; a few stars were shining. The kitchen was clean and a load of laundry was in the dryer. Matt was in his room doing his homework.

“Time for bed,” Erin said.

“One more story, please.”

“Not tonight—it’s late.”

Gwen sighed. She slowly got up off the couch and started to walk up the stairs just as Matt came running down.

“Mom, I have to talk to you,” he said.

“Sure.”

Gwen came back down and lingered on the bottom step listening. Matt sat on the couch next to Erin and rubbed his head with his hands. Erin wondered what could be so serious.

“I don’t know if you should see so much of Gary.”

“What?” Erin was caught off guard.

Matt went on. “He’s a lot of fun, and everything, but Jacob thinks he’s too smooth, and I think so, too.”

Erin reached out and grasped Matt’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’m not rushing into anything.”

“What if he wants to move in here?”

“He’s not going to move in.”

“You never know. My friend Greg’s mom started dating this guy after his dad left, and he moved in. He wouldn’t let Greg do anything after that. And Greg’s mom was always too busy to notice. Greg can’t stand him.”

“Do you like Gary?” Erin asked.

“Yeah, I like him all right.”

“I like him,” Gwen said. “He’s so handsome.”

“Didn’t ask you,” Matt snapped.

“All right, that’s enough.” Erin looked at Gwen. “You need to get ready for bed now.”

“I know.” She trudged up the stairs.

Matt stood up. “I’m serious, Mom.”

“I know you are. Nobody’s going to move in.” She paused. “I miss your dad, too. I always will.”

Matt nodded his head. “Yeah. I know.”

Erin grabbed him and hugged him hard. “I love you.”

He hugged her back, turned and went back up the stairs. “Night, Mom. Be careful.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

Erin turned out the lights, walked up the stairs and into her room. She lit one of the candles on the table beside William’s picture. She sighed and sat on the floor, and she stayed there until the candle burned out.

Chapter 21

The cold, wet gray of the fog grew denser, and Erin still hadn’t found William. She didn’t know if she had wandered off the path, or if the path had just disappeared into the thick forest. She stopped. There were no sounds at all. The fog muffled all the forest noises.

“William,” she called. Her voice fell dead in the forest.

She sat on the ground, her head in her hands. What could she do? Maybe she should try to wait out the fog. She felt confused and lost.

“William!” she called again, and this time there was an answering call.

“Mom.” It was Matthew.

“Where are you?”

“Here—don’t move, I’ll be right there.”

The fog cleared a little, and Erin stood as Matthew came running to her. He seemed taller and looked older than his twelve years.

“Hey, Mom,” he said. “There’s a man over there who was calling for someone. I think he needs you.”

“Do you know who he is?”

“No, but I think he needs help. Come on, I’ll take you to him. The fog is sure bad, isn’t it? I’m glad I found you.”

They hiked through the forest, and after a while the fog began to blow away in wisps. Beams of sunlight shot through the trees, brightening leaves, and Erin could see they had struck a small path, maybe an animal trail. The underbrush was thick on both sides with ferns and huckleberry, and she heard the gurgle of water in the distance.

“He’s just across the bridge,” Matt said, pointing to a spot under the oak trees in the distance.

“Okay, Matt, I’ll go see what he needs. Go on back home now.”

“Okay.” He turned around and jogged back the way they had come.

Erin followed the path in the direction Matthew had pointed until she came to a small stream. To reach the bridge she had to turn right and follow the trail for several feet along the top of a steep embankment. The bridge, two narrow boards laid across the chasm, led to another path in the shadows under the far trees. She looked across but didn’t see anyone waiting, so she called out, “Is anyone there?”

“Over here,” a man’s husky voice answered from some distance away.

She sprinted across the bridge into the dark forest on the opposite side. The path continued into a deep gloom, and she saw the man running ahead, stumbling occasionally. He held one arm tight against his body; in his other hand he carried a sword. From the deep forest behind him, she watched as a shadow rose from the ground. She slowed and her whole body grew cold. The mortifer followed the man, and Erin leapt after it, pulling her sword from its sheath. In three steps the mortifer caught up with him and raised a knife to strike him from behind, but Erin reached the shadow first and ran her sword straight through its back. It shrieked and turned around, its gaze on her, but it fell to the ground and disappeared into mist.

The man glanced back but didn’t stop. “Wait,” she called.

The forest disappeared. The path, now a dirt road, ran through a field of wheat in the blazing sunshine, and she saw him stumbling up the road ahead, holding his body, running away from her up a hill topped with a tall stone tower. He reached the tower, opened the door, and slipped inside.

Erin called after him. “Wait. I’m coming.” He didn’t answer.

She ran faster, and when she reached the tower, she pulled the door open and followed him inside. She found herself in a dark, damp room just large enough for a circular stairway to hug the walls. The only light came from narrow windows high above, and the dirt floor was muddy around the edges. Erin heard the sound of footfalls above her, trudging up the stairs. She followed after him.

The granite steps were even but grooved from centuries of use, and the curve of the stairway was so tight it was impossible to see far ahead. She climbed as quickly as she dared. Narrow windows were placed too high in the walls to see out, but she knew she was getting close to the top when the sound of the footfalls above slowed to a shuffle and stopped. Erin crept up the last of the steps, hugging the outside wall. The light was a little brighter when she reached the top. She stood on a stone platform surrounded by the curved walls of the tower, a rough granite roof above. No one else was there. All was silent.

Driven into the stones of the wall in front of her, metal bars formed a ladder up the wall. The bars were dirty and damp—damp with blood. She looked up and saw a small wooden trapdoor.

She climbed the ladder, and when she reached the top, she gently pushed against the door. It wasn’t locked. She slipped her knife out of her boot, took a deep breath, and pushed the trapdoor open.

Bright sunshine blinded her for a moment, but she climbed out of the passage onto the roof of the tower. A tall wall surrounded the edge, and through gaps in the wall she could see the farmland and countryside for miles in every direction. Lying on the floor in front of her was the man she had followed. Curled up shivering and sweating, he lay pressed against the wall.

She knelt down beside him. “Let me see.”

He turned his face to her. His eyes were clouded with pain and his breathing was shallow. His shirt was soaked with blood, and he pulled it open and showed her the slice across his stomach. Blood pulsed from it.

She gasped. “Who did this to you?”

He grimaced. “I thought he was a friend.”

Erin pulled her flask from her jacket and poured some of the golden liquid over the wound. He gasped and doubled forward in pain.

“I’m sorry, but you need more,” she said.

He sat back panting, and nodded. “It burns.”

Erin poured out more of the liquid, and it bubbled up from the wound. She ripped a strip of cloth from the bottom of her shirt and wrapped it around his waist, putting gentle pressure on his wound. The man sat back, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. Sweat made tracks in the dust on his pale face; his breathing was quick and shallow.

She put her hand on his head and whispered to him, “You’ll get better now.”

He opened his eyes again. “At first I thought you were someone else. I’m glad you were near, Erin.”

“You know me?”

His blue eyes sparkled, but he grimaced again with pain. “Of course.”

“Who are you?”

“Don’t you remember me? Don’t you remember your waking life when you’re here?”

She shook her head. “Not all the time—it’s so vague. Do I know you?”

He tried to grin. “Yeah. We met not long ago.”

She searched his face.

“What’s your name?”

“Bruce.”

She thought for a moment and her face brightened as she nodded her head. “Of course. Bruce. At Aleesha’s gallery. Now just relax and sit still. You should feel better soon. Here, drink some of this.” She handed him the flask, and he swallowed a mouthful. He gave it back, and his face regained some of its color.

“Who did this to you?” she asked again.