Viator (The Viator Chronicles Book 1) (18 page)

“I’ve never read any of his books. I don’t think that’s it. Sometimes it seems like he looks right into me.”

Aleesha shook her head. “You always have been more intuitive than me. Maybe there is something strange about him. Or maybe you’re feeling an attraction?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. But tell me more about Bruce.”

Aleesha told Erin about all the time she and Bruce had spent together, and how much she looked forward to seeing him again on the weekend. When Erin finally looked at her watch, she saw she needed to get back to work. As she walked back to the store, she realized she should have asked Aleesha about Kenneth and Gary and their business connection, but Aleesha’s happy news had driven it from her mind.

Chapter 26

The last dirty dish was washed, dried, and put away, and Erin sat down at the table with Gwen and Matthew. The sky was growing dark, and she put her head on the table and closed her eyes.

“How are doing with your math?” she asked Matt.

“I only have five more problems. But then I have to work on my science project.”

“See my picture?” Gwen said.

Erin lifted her head. “It’s beautiful.” She picked up the picture to get a closer look. “I love the trees—and the cabin looks so cozy. Who lives in it?”

“No one. It’s a vacation cabin. You have to go on a long trail through the woods to get there.”

The phone rang, and Erin went into the kitchen to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Erin.” It was Gary.

“How’s everything with your friend?” Erin glanced at the children. Matt was showing pictures of stars from his science book to Gwen.

“Who?”

“Your partner, Henry?”

“Oh. He’s all right. We’ll get it taken care of.” Gary paused. “Sorry I had to leave so early last night.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can’t stay up late on weeknights anyway.”

“Yeah, well. I’d like to see you again.”

Erin paused and lowered her voice. “Are you sure you want to get more involved with a very unglamorous widow who has two children?”

“I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t want to.”

“All right,” Erin said.

“How’s Friday night?”

“Friday’s fine. What time?” she asked.

“I’ll be there around eight. I’ve got a five o’clock meeting and should be done by six—then I’ll head up. Is there any place up there that has dancing?”

“Sure. A few places,” Erin said. “It’s been years since I’ve gone dancing.” She thought back, trying to remember the last time she’d been dancing. Of course, it was with William—New Year’s Eve five months before he had died.

“Then we’ll have to do that,” Gary said.

He asked her to hold on for a minute, and she heard muffled voices through the phone on Gary’s end.

“I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’ll see you Friday.”

“Okay.”

*****

The crickets quieted their chirping as Erin approached a small house on a narrow sidewalk edged with boxwood. The dim sky hovered between dusk and dark, and there was no light from the house. A strange prickly feeling came over her. She looked down at her clothes and was puzzled to see them changing from her usual black pants, shirt, and boots, to a short red dress and heels, and then back again. She stopped and felt her arms, making sure the fabric of her jacket was really there. She felt for her sword. It was there as well.
Where had that dress come from?

She approached the front door, paused and listened. There were voices from inside, urgent but quiet, and she knew the dreamer was there. Without making a sound, she turned the doorknob and went in. The house was empty—no furniture, bare wood floors. No one was there. Erin looked around at the white walls, holding her breath. Rooms opened to her right and left, and a hallway led to the back. Suddenly, a tremendous crash exploded from the rear of the house, and a man shouted.

Erin dashed down the hall and stopped at the door to the kitchen. The back wall had crumbled to the ground. Dust rose from piles of broken sheetrock and splintered lumber. An enormous man stood there, his fists bloody from the force of knocking over the wall; his breath came in gasps, and as he stood, he clenched and unclenched his fists as if impatient for more destruction. His eyes searched until they locked onto a corner of the room. Erin followed his gaze. Another man cowered on the floor with his hands covering his head, and he moaned. The huge man lunged at him, grabbed him by his throat, and lifted him into the air. The smaller man flailed his arms and legs as he tried to free himself but was flung across the room where he smacked into a wall and crumpled to the floor.

“Where are they?” growled the huge man.

The smaller man groaned.

“What did you do with them?”

“Nothing … I’ll get them soon,” moaned the small man.

Erin crept behind the giant, grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face her. He towered over her, but she had her sword drawn and at his throat before he could raise his fist. She pinned him against the wall. He stood still and stared at her; his eyes scrunched to narrow points, his mouth drawn down.

“You will leave now,” she said.

He laughed. “What is this? You brought a woman to protect you?”

Erin stepped closer, pressing her blade against his throat until a drop of blood seeped from the giant’s flesh. “Just a little more pressure, and your throat will split like a burst pipe. You won’t take another breath again. Leave.”

“All right, all right. I’m leaving. This isn’t over, Arthur—you’re a dead man, and I’ll be the one to do it,” he said to the man on the floor and spat on him.

The crumpled man raised his head, sneering with a silver glint in his eyes, “I’ll get you first.” He looked up. “Erin?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Gary?”

She saw that her clothes had changed back to the red dress and heels. Her sword was gone. The huge man grinned, swung his arm and struck her, sending her flying across the room. She gasped for breath and scrambled back to her feet, the taste of blood in her mouth, but not before he had grabbed Gary again and lifted him off the floor.

He punched Gary in the face, and Erin leapt forward and kicked him in the back, shoving him forward. He threw Gary down as he caught his balance and turned to face her. Again dressed in her usual black, she jumped in close and punched him five times fast to his throat, then kicked him hard in his chest. He staggered backwards, unable to breathe with his throat collapsed and the wind knocked out of his lungs. He fell with a crash that shook the house.

Erin ran to kneel beside Gary who was lying on his face without moving. She turned him over, and he opened his eyes.

“Where is he?” Gary mumbled.

“On the floor. He won’t hurt you anymore. Let me help you up.”

“What are you doing here?” Gary tried to sit up.

Erin helped him stand. “You’re having a dream. I’m just part of your dream.”

He looked at the giant on the floor. “What did you do to him?” His gaze scanned the room. “Where’s the other man?”

“What other man?”

“He was here before. I don’t know his name.”

Erin frowned. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. Were you talking to him before this monster crashed in here?”

“Yeah. But how did you get here?”

She looked around the kitchen and through the doorway but didn’t see anyone.

“I come when I’m called.” Erin grabbed his arms so he would focus on her. “Now I want you to do something. Think of a place you’ve been that was wonderful—maybe in the Caribbean? A vacation? A beautiful place that you love.”

“Fiji.”

“Think of Fiji, Gary. The beaches, the sunshine, and how peaceful it was there.”

The floor began to turn to sand, and the sound of waves was in the distance.

Gary glanced up and pointed to the doorway. “There he is.” Erin looked up and could see a dark figure in the shadows. It turned and ran from the house.

“Think of Fiji,” whispered Erin. She turned and followed the dark figure out the door.

Chapter 27

The man slipped between the trees that bordered the house, the darkness almost obscuring him. Erin followed as silently and quickly as he had done. After striking a path, he ran, and his pace was fast and sure-footed. She could see he knew his way well.

The forest closed around Erin, and she became aware of the night noises: a stream bubbling close to the path, the wind rustling the leaves, the snap of a twig breaking in the distance. In the dark it was hard to keep up with him. Erin followed him through the forest, confident he was not aware of her presence. She was determined to find out who and what he was, and what his purpose was in entering Gary’s dream.

His pace slowed, and Erin slowed as well. He had come to a cabin in the forest, small, overgrown and dark, nearly hidden by the shrubbery. No one else was there.

He pushed open the door and entered. Through the window Erin could see him light a candle, then light the fire that had been laid out in the hearth. He stood facing the fire as the flames caught and grew, and he removed his hat, then turned and faced her, placing the hat on a nearby wooden table.

She drew back from the window then cautiously looked in again. This was the first time Erin had seen him in any light. He was tall and lean with dark hair that fell over his forehead to his eyes. Rough stubble covered his cheeks and chin. His dark eyes were deep set. He seemed familiar, and Erin was sure she should know who he was. He took off his gloves and passed through a door to another room. Erin pushed the door open and slipped inside in silence, crouching behind an overstuffed leather chair. She pulled her knife from her boot.

He returned carrying a bottle and a goblet. He poured himself some of the dark red wine, took a long swallow, and set the goblet down, then began to unbutton his jacket. He tossed it onto the chair in front of Erin, then sat in the chair in front of the fire to remove his boots.

Erin leapt up, grabbed his hair from behind to pull his head back, and held her knife to his throat.

“Who are you?” she whispered, looking down into his upturned face.

He sat perfectly still, staring at her with dark, upturned eyes, inhaled a slow breath, and said, “Michael.”

She gripped his hair tighter. “What are you?”

He frowned. “A man—a viator like you.”

Erin squinted as she studied him. “What? You tried to keep me from fighting the shadows. You threw me against a wall in the cavern.”

His eyes widened. “In the cavern? The mortifer in the corner—it was almost on you. I got you out of its way.” His nostrils flared. “Remove your knife from my throat; I’ve seen the damage it can do. I won’t harm you.”

Erin’s heart pounded. She hesitated and studied his face, then let go of his hair and dropped her knife to her side.

He jumped to his feet and grabbed her arms, his eyes flashing. “Why did you follow me? To kill me?”

Erin stepped back. “No. I wanted to find out who you are.”

Michael let go of her, rubbed his throat, and grimaced. “Sit down. Put your knife away.” He gestured to a chair.

He stepped into the other room again and was back in a moment with another goblet. He filled it and held it out to her with a stony face. “Have some wine.”

She took the goblet and sipped. It warmed her thoroughly, coursing all the way to her fingers and toes. She set it down on a nearby table and slipped her knife back into her boot. After she seated herself in a wood chair close to the fire, Michael sat back down.

“How did you find me here?”

“I followed you. You’re a viator? Where did you come from?”

“Did you think you were the only one?”

“I … don’t know. I hadn’t met any others.”

Erin suddenly felt exhausted, and tears came to her eyes. She passed her hand over her face and shook her head. “How could I know you weren’t evil? The first time I saw you, you were hurting a dreamer.”

“What? When?” Michael paused. “Oh, yes. He … was going to do something dangerous. I was trying to convince him it wasn’t wise.”

Erin stared at him and shook her head. “You’re a viator … like me?”

He nodded. “Bruce told me you don’t remember much about your dreams.” He paused. “Do you remember Bruce? You helped him when he was wounded? You saved his life.” He glanced at her and shook his head. “Interesting that you were ready to take mine.”

She sipped her wine. “I remember him. But you have frightened me several times.”

“Look at me. Don’t you recognize me?”

She studied him as he sat nearby holding his goblet. A gold ring on his left hand glittered in the firelight. He stretched out his long legs and drank his wine. His fine features were intense as he turned his eyes on her again, patiently waiting. She finally realized who he was.

“You’re Michael Woodward.”

He nodded, his mouth curved in a small smile.

She shook her head. “How can that be? I’ve never seen any other viators before you and Bruce. And now that I have, how can they be people I know?” She frowned and brought the goblet to her lips.

Michael rubbed his forehead. “You’re disappointed?”

“No. I just meant I’m surprised. It seems like too great a coincidence.”

He gave her a sidelong glance and drained his goblet.

She spoke softly. “You do this in your dreams too? I’ve been alone since I started, and I always wished there were others. I thought I was the only one who fought the mortifers. How long have you done this? Are there more?”

He leaned his head back on the chair and looked at the ceiling. “I don’t know how many of us there are, but there are many. I’ve been a viator for more than twenty years, as have Bruce and my sister. Our youngest brother was a viator as well. I’ve met others many times, at Domus or in someone’s dream. They always knew what I was, and I knew them. When I first saw you in a dream, right away I knew you were a viator, and I assumed you knew who I was as well. Who was your teacher?”

Erin sipped her wine and pushed the hair back from her face. “I don’t know.” She thought back, trying to remember. “It’s all a fog. There was someone who gave me my sword and my knife.” She patted her boot. “He taught me to fight. But I don’t remember him very well. When I saw you, I thought you were another bête noir, smarter and more dangerous than mortifers. I was afraid. I am sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”