Read After [A Journey of the Twins Novel] Online
Authors: Janet Durbin
"We were damn lucky. The one we killed must have been its mate. That's the only reason I can think of as to why it didn't shred us apart instead of running away. I've seen just one tear a group of ten well armed men apart with ease.” Joseph shook his head at Shyanne's folly. “And we were facing two."
"I'm sorry, Joseph.” She shuddered at the picture that came to her mind. “But I wasn't going to let them rend that poor woman's body apart."
Joseph sheathed his sword as he walked up to Shyanne. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently to emphasize his words. “I didn't want to see them rend the bodies of the living apart."
She looked into his blue eyes and saw the fear mixed with concern in them. She looked down at the ground. “I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just don't do that again. I don't know if we'll be as lucky the next time.” He hugged her close before releasing her. “Now, let's see to the body. We'll have to go deeper into the underbrush to give her a safer burial place."
Joseph moved toward the body lying in a heap where the scavenger had thrown it. He rolled it over and discovered it was a young woman maybe in her early twenties. It was hard to be sure because of the shape of the body. The extremities were intact, as was the head; but the abdomen area was gone. Dull, blonde hair, caked with dirt, stuck out in several directions. Shyanne walked up behind him after sheathing her weapon. She gasped when she glanced over his shoulder. Joseph looked up at her shocked expression, thinking it was due to the condition of the body. She pointed at a large, ragged hole in the woman's neck.
"What do you think?"
Joseph didn't think, he knew. He had seen a wound just like that before, back at the ruins with the spiderbats, where the horses were kept, when Drayco fed.
"Drayco."
Shyanne bent over for a closer look at the neck wound. “He must have stumbled upon this woman and attacked her to replenish his lost blood. We are definitely on the right path."
She stood up and looked around. A glint of light reflected off something several paces down the path. She walked over to it. A sword, partway in its scabbard, lay just off the road in a section of tall weeds.
"Joseph! It's Drayco's sword!” She picked up the weapon and held it high for him to see.
He rushed over and looked at the ancient weapon. “Are you sure? It may have been the woman's."
"I'm sure. Our grandfather gave it to him a long time ago. We used to spar together. He always used this sword."
"Then we are definitely on the right path. I wonder what happened to cause him to leave his weapon behind."
"I have no idea. I don't think it was something good. He never let anyone touch it, much less left it lying about discarded like this. It meant too much to him."
"Do you think the mercenaries have him?"
"I don't know. What I do know is that we're not going to find out by standing here. Several horse prints go off in that direction.” She pointed down the path. “One of them must have Drayco on its back."
Shyanne ran back to Jack and threw herself into the saddle. Joseph was hot on her heels and in his own saddle a split second behind her. Both spurred their horses into a run as soon as their feet hit the stirrups.
The body of the woman they had fought so hard to save from the scavengers lay where it was, forgotten.
Drayco was awake, but no longer had the strength to stand. The events of the past few days had sapped all the reserve energy his body possessed. He'd never felt this bad before. Not after he was inflicted with the curse given by the virus, nor when he fell off the horse from lack of drinking blood. Every inch of his body hurt more than he could ever imagine.
Two people stood close by. One was tall, dark tanned and muscular. The other was a mystery. A black hooded cloak covered every part of the person underneath. Nothing was exposed. Gloves covered the hands when they appeared out of the flowing sleeves.
The prisoner before them hung from the wall, a bloody mess. The black hair hanging from his head had gray streaks where none was previously. His face had aged quite a few years and wrinkles were still forming as the two standing in front of him watched. Two fresh diagonal cuts ran across the scar on the dark man's chest, and his pants and boots were covered with red because of the streams flowing from those wounds.
"I hope there is a point to this, Ruben."
"There is, just watch."
Ruben walked over to the man tied up next to the bed. Drizzle watched, unable to help his companion's brother. His tail whipped about wildly, showing his displeasure at what was going on before him.
"Don't worry, kitty, I won't kill him. He has to be here to bait the trap.” Ruben scratched Drizzle on the head.
He bent over and grabbed Randolf by the arms, lifting him to his knees. He dragged the bound man over close to Drayco and dropped him. The gag prevented Randolf from crying out when he hit the floor.
Ruben pulled out the thin knife from his boot. He cut the bonds holding Drayco against the wall and watched as the dark man landed face-first on the floor.
The Boss observed Ruben's actions quietly. He waited to see whatever it was that made the big man so anxious. However, he felt impatience with the entire process growing.
The big man looked at the Boss. “I want you to see what I discovered. I think it will interest you greatly."
He grabbed a handful of Randolf's hair and pulled upward. Randolf's eyes enlarged to their farthest extent when he saw the thin blade advancing toward his exposed throat. He started to struggle, but the strong grasp and a well-placed knee prevented much. Ruben slid the knife into the soft skin under the jaw line, but only enough to get the man's blood trickling down his neck. The slice was intentionally non-lethal. He put the blade away, then grabbed Drayco. Some of the precious fluid was smeared into the weakened man's mouth and his lips were placed on the bleeding slice.
As soon as the blood hit Drayco's tongue, instinct took over. He reached up and held Randolf's head like a vice grip. The cut was not deep enough to cause a large enough flow, so Drayco sank his teeth into the surrounding skin and bit deep. A large chunk of flesh hit the floor. He was not interested in it; he was more interested in what flowed underneath.
The life sustaining fluid flowed freely now. A growling noise began as Drayco returned his mouth to the open wound. He latched onto the neck and began to suck; pulling everything he could from the wound. His animal instinct for survival was in full motion. The two men standing nearby were forgotten. All that was important was the blood, and ridding himself of the pain.
Ruben observed the Boss. No reaction could be seen beneath the shrouded cloak of the mysterious one, but his own reaction was clear. He was revolted. He knew what happened next because he had witnessed it when Brey had been the target, and wanted nothing more than to end this abomination's life. The Boss wanted Drayco kept alive, unfortunately, so he could get his intended target—Shyanne.
"I see nothing interesting about one man killing another,” the Boss whispered.
"Keep watching,” Ruben insisted.
They saw Drayco roll on top of Randolf to hold him better and to prevent any struggling. His face was turned away so the onlookers could not see it. As the men watched, the gray in Drayco's hair faded, replaced by a color as dark as the midnight sky. The skin on the visible hand became taut and young again. Randolf's eyes glazed over as death took him. The dark man stayed where he was until no more blood would come, then he let go and rolled onto his back.
His face looked as young as it had when Ruben first met him. A small streak of gray remained above his left eye, leaving him with a slightly wiser and older look. His eyes closed and he went into a peaceful sleep.
"See what I mean? Interesting isn't it?” Ruben beamed as he looked at the Boss.
The shrouded figure remained quiet for a moment before responding softly, “Yes ... yes it is ... a prize indeed. See that you take great care of him. If what I think is true, I may not need the other we seek.” The Boss moved toward the door, but stopped when he reached its entrance. He turned back and added, “I will send word as to whether you need to continue seeking the female or not. In the mean time, make sure these two don't escape, or become excessively damaged.” The cloaked arm waved toward the prisoners. “If either happens, you will not have to worry about anything else again. Have I made myself abundantly clear?"
Ruben jerked his head around and stared at the cloaked person who hovered by the doorway. “Don't worry. I haven't let you down in all our years of association. I'm not about to start."
The hood nodded once, then the Boss disappeared out the door as if he had never been there. No sounds were heard beyond. Ruben walked to the open door and looked outside. The hallway was empty.
"I hate when he does that,” he muttered as he shut the door.
Drayco had not moved from where he fell asleep. Randolf's body, with its ravaged neck visible from across the room, lay next to him. Ruben shuddered as he looked at the bloodless wound.
Unconsciously, he reached up and rubbed the side of his neck.
That will never happen to me
.
He glanced over to the bed and saw the cat watching with intent eyes. “Don't get any ideas, cat. If I get the word that you're not needed, I will kill you where you lay.” The big man reinforced his words by moving his hand from his neck to the sword handle sticking out of its sheath on his back.
Ruben looked back at the dark man lying on the floor. A shudder ran up his spine, causing him to clench his teeth. Returning to Randolf's body, he grabbed a handful of shirt, dragged it over to the doorway, and dropped it. The ravaged neck now faced away from him, which suited him just fine. He made his way back to Drayco and bound his extremities, just in case the sleeping man woke.
The room reeked with the stench of blood. Being a mercenary, he was used to it. The chair next to the table scraped across the floor as he pulled it out and sat down. With both arms crossed on his chest, Ruben leaned back against the wall. The small table stood close by so he threw a leg on top of it. Within minutes, he fell into a light sleep.
While he slept, the door opened silently. Two cloaked figures emerged. Without bending over, they brought Randolf's body up between them. They left as silently, closing the door behind them. Only one being in the room witnessed anything. Drizzle lay on the bed, thinking. There was something about the way they moved that nagged at him. He could not remember it presently, but knew, in time, it would come to him.
Shyanne and Joseph made their way into town just before sunup. They rode all night with only short rests for the horses. They had not slept. After leaving the dead woman to follow Drayco's trail, they found the main road and the camp left by the mercenaries. A body, or what was left of one, was discovered near the edge of the woods. Joseph had made Shyanne stay back until he was sure it was not her brother. Closer inspection showed it wasn't. It had been one of the mercenaries.
"We need to find a stable. Who knows how long we'll have to stay here,” Shyanne said.
"I hope we find the Inn. I'm beat. Sleep is in order before we hunt for Drayco."
"We have to find him,” Shyanne insisted. “I want him safe again."
"I know, but in our present state, we would be of no good if things went sour. We're both exhausted and need to rest."
Shyanne remained silent. Much as she hated to admit it, his argument made sense. The events of the last few days were starting to blend together and the lack of sleep only made matters worse. Even now, she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. As bad as she wanted to find her brother, her body was telling her it needed to stop.
The pair rode farther into town until the stables appeared. They brought the horses to a stop in front of the building and dismounted. An old man came out of the building to greet them.
"What do we have here, early birds out before the sun comes up, or late bloomers coming in before the sun rises? I wonder which one they are ... hummm,” the old man mumbled.
"We've been riding all night, sir, and were hoping you could direct us to a place to stay. We're very tired,” Joseph said.
Shyanne stood a little off to the side, holding Jack's reins in her hand. She was using every ounce of her remaining strength to stay upright.
"Sure ... sure ... come right in.” The old man turned around and started back into the shadows, waving for them to follow. Horses nickered inside the building. “I'm the stable master here. I care for the horses as if they were my own children."
The travelers followed the man into the building. A faint light glowed in the corner away from the stalls, probably from his sleeping area. The old man led Joseph to stall number 14 and opened the gate.
"Just put your animal in here and don't worry about him. I'll take the saddle off and brush him down. You too, young missy,” he said to Shyanne. He led her and Jack to stall number 9. She guided the big horse in and shut the gate behind him.
"I appreciate it more than you know, but I think I should take care of him myself."
"No trouble, missy. Like I said, I treat the beasties like I would my own, if I had any.” He walked up to the stall holding Jack and leaned on the gate.
"Be careful, sir. He usually doesn't like strangers ... especially the male version."
"My mother, God rest her soul, called me Abraham, but most people just call me Crusty. It's easier to remember."
Shyanne could understand why. He was dirty and stank to high heaven. She kept her comments to herself, though. “Be careful, Crusty. My horse has a problem with men coming too close."
"He wouldn't hurt little ol’ Crusty."
Before Shyanne could stop him, he entered the stall. Jack had his ears pointed forward and watched the approaching man with interest. What happened next caused her mouth to hang open.
The old man walked right up to the towering animal and started to pet his neck, cooing nonsense statements softly as he ran his hands up and down the curve of the neck. Jack nudged him in greeting, then went back to eating the grain out of a bucket hanging on the wall. In her whole association with the horse, she had never seen him behave like that with any male.