Viator (The Viator Chronicles Book 1) (23 page)

Matthew rode his bike to visit Jacob for the afternoon, leaving just Erin and Gwen to drive to Michael Woodward’s house. Erin found it easily and parked on the street. Surprised by how small his house was—no larger than her own—she smiled at its welcoming appearance: the lawn was trimmed and the gardens well-tended. She felt a little uneasy about intruding into his home. She rang the doorbell.

Michael opened the door. “Erin. And this must be Gwen. Come in.”

He held the door open wide, and they walked into a small entry hall with a slate floor and a suit of armor in the corner. A faint scent of pine trees lingered in the air, and Erin was struck by its familiarity. She took a deep breath.

“It’s good to see you again,” she said.

“You too.” He stepped forward as if to embrace her, then stopped short.

Aleesha came from the living room and slid her arm around Gwen’s shoulders. “I’m glad you could make it, sweetie, and thanks for bringing your mom.”

Gwen took Aleesha’s hand. They went into the living room, and Bruce came down the stairs.

“Good morning.” He looked at Gwen. “I’m Bruce.”

“I’m Gwen.”

Erin gazed around the room. Her eyes widened as she studied the medieval weapons and gargoyles, and she reminded herself that Michael wrote horror stories and thrillers. A tall upright piano was in a corner of the living room with photos on top, many of a young boy. Aleesha sat down on the arm of Bruce’s chair.

Erin smiled at Bruce and asked how he was feeling. His eyes sparkled with a smile. “Much better.” He slipped his hand into Aleesha’s, brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Michael sat down next to Gwen, and she scrunched closer to Erin on the couch. “We’ve got lunch just about ready,” he said. “Would you like to join us?”

“Thanks,” Erin said. “That would be nice.”

Aleesha got up. “Would you two gentlemen finish fixing lunch while Erin and I go outside for a few minutes? Gwen, dear, how about if you set the table for us?”

“For lunch?” Gwen asked.

“Yes, for lunch.”

“All right.” Gwen sighed. “Show me the silverware.”

Aleesha grabbed Erin’s arm and took her outside onto the back patio.

As soon as the door closed Erin told her, “I heard from Gary right after I talked to you on the phone. Henry’s had surgery, and he’s going to make it. They have some leads on the person who shot him but nothing definite. That’s all I know.”

Aleesha led her down a gravel path through the garden, further into the backyard. “Was it a random shooting?”

“I really don’t know—but somehow I don’t think so.”

Aleesha frowned. “That’s frightening.” She shook her head. “What do you think of Bruce?”

“How could anyone not like him? He’s great.”

Aleesha held Erin’s eyes steadily with her own. “I want to marry him,” she said.

“What?” Erin grabbed both of her friend’s arms. “But this is so sudden.”

“I know, but it’s what I want.”

“Don’t rush. You haven’t known him long, and there are so many differences between the two of you. I hate to point this out, but he is a lot younger than you. How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t care. I’m happy with him—happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Have you two talked about getting married?”

Aleesha sat down on a wrought-iron bench under a birch tree. “He asked me. I said yes.”

Erin sat down next to her. “I’m stunned. You just met him.”

“I feel like I’ve known him forever.”

Erin stared at Aleesha’s eager face, so full and open, and she hugged her. “I never thought you would want to marry, but I think you’ve found the right person. Bruce is a great guy. Where will you live, though? And have you talked about when?”

“We’re not sure just when. We’re going to look at our schedules and decide the details later. That goes for where we’ll live, too. We’ll take our time to decide.”

They walked back to the house. The short time Erin had known Bruce had already convinced her of his worth, and she couldn’t have been more thrilled for Aleesha. They went inside, and Bruce, slicing bread in the kitchen, looked at them expectantly. Aleesha kissed him, and Erin gave him a hug.

“I’m so happy for you both.”

“Thanks. We’re pretty happy ourselves,” Bruce said.

“Is there anything I can do to help with lunch?” Erin asked.

Bruce put the bread into a basket. “No, thanks, Erin. I think we’re about ready. Michael ran upstairs to change his shirt—he spilled his drink. But he’ll be back in a minute.”

“I’ll just go use your bathroom. Is it this way?” Erin pointed down the hall.

Bruce nodded. “To the right.”

Erin went down the hall and around the corner. She passed the laundry room and saw Michael standing inside with his back to the door. He had taken his shirt off and was reaching for a new one hanging from a rack. His body was lean, his muscles carved like a statue’s, but when she saw him, Erin almost gasped. Down the entire length of his back Michael’s flesh was crisscrossed with long red scars. Round shiny patches of purple skin showed the trauma of past burns. She rushed past the doorway and into the bathroom nearby, her heart pounding.

She took a few deep breaths as she washed her hands and closed her eyes as if that could erase what she had seen. What could have done that to him?

When she rejoined the others in the kitchen, Michael was washing strawberries, but he stopped and watched her as she came in. “So Aleesha’s told you about her whirlwind romance with this scoundrel?” he asked.

“There’s only one scoundrel in this family, and it’s not me,” Bruce laughed. He wrapped his arms around Aleesha, and she kissed him.

“I feel like an outcast,” Michael said.

“Oh, sorry. We wouldn’t want that.” Aleesha gave Michael a hug and kissed his cheek. “You’re both a couple of wily rascals.”

Erin smiled at their playfulness, and when Michael glanced at her with his eyebrows raised, she laughed and brushed her lips across his cheek. The scent of pine and spice on his face brought back more memories of her dream: Michael picking her up from inside a boat and holding her tight. The feeling of his warm, rough neck against her lips. She sucked in a breath and stepped away from him.

Michael watched her, frowning. “What is it?”

Her head felt light. A sudden dizziness came over her and she swayed.

Aleesha stepped forward and put her arm around Erin’s shoulders. “Are you all right?”

Erin shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just a little dizzy spell. A dream suddenly came back to me.” She looked up at Michael again. The memory was there, powerful and clear. In his eyes she saw recognition and a sense of anticipation.
Did he know somehow? How could that be?

“You’ve had a difficult morning. Come sit down,” Aleesha coaxed her.

“I’m better now, really.”

Gwen stepped into the kitchen. “Is lunch almost ready?”

“Yes, we’re ready. I hope everyone’s hungry,” Michael said.

The five of them sat down at the long dining table. A small fire burned in the hearth. Erin studied the swords and spears on the wall as she ate her salmon bisque and salad. She was quiet, overwhelmed with her thoughts about the shooting of Gary’s friend, her own foolish lapse of judgment in sleeping with him, Michael’s scarred body, and now, this vivid memory of a dream.

Aleesha was openly affectionate with Bruce while he was just as devoted to her. Michael tried talking with Gwen who was shy at first, but she opened up to him as he gave her extra strawberries for dessert and asked her about her friends and what activities she enjoyed. Erin ate in silence unless one of the others asked her a question.

When they finished lunch and Erin and Gwen were getting ready to leave, Michael pulled Erin into the hallway. He held onto her elbow and said, “Thank you for coming today.”

“Thanks for lunch. It was delicious.”

His eyes were intense as they searched her face. “The dream you remembered earlier, was I part of that dream?”

Erin blushed and lowered her voice. “Yes. There’s a lot I don’t remember, but you were part of it.”

He let out his breath and smiled. “Don’t you ever remember your dreams?”

“Not very often,” she said. How much should she say? “Sometimes I’m awakened by nightmares, but I don’t remember them. It’s terrible. I lose a lot of sleep because of them.”

He nodded slowly, still holding her arm. “I might know something of your nightmares.”

“What do you mean? How?”

“It’s a long story. I know you have to leave now, but we could get together sometime and talk about it.”

Erin hesitated a moment. “Sure.”

“Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Yes, actually I am. But what about lunch during the week?”

“All right. Monday?”

“Okay.”

He stood looking at her for a moment in silence. Erin hesitated, then pulled her arm away and squeezed his hand.

“See you Monday then,” she said.

Chapter 33

The waves slapped softly against the side of the rowboat as Erin sat still on the seat. She scanned the shoreline. The fir trees lining the shore were black silhouettes against the clear twilight sky. It was a small lake; Erin was sure she could swim across it if she needed to. Stars began to glimmer, but no moon was out to give its light.

As she gazed around the lake, a low moan from the shore behind her spread until it encompassed the entire lakeside. It grew louder and echoed from the trees. She sat still, waiting.

There it was. A flash of light in the forest to her left, and Erin’s oars hit the water. It took only minutes to reach the shore, and she leapt out, her bare feet splashing in the icy cold water. She tied the line around a nearby tree branch, and her eyes searched the darkened forest for the source of the flare. The moaning stopped, and she heard no sound except her own breathing and the gentle lapping of the water.

Another light blazed in the forest. She was close, and she crept carefully toward it, trying to keep from making any noise in the underbrush. The ground was soft and yielding, but she still wished for her boots. Immediately they were on her feet. Shrubs and trees grew crowded the further she went, and it was hard to see more than a few feet ahead. The air became musty, and the moaning began again, this time on the other side of the lake. It spread around the entire lake again, but Erin ignored it, intent on reaching the source of the flare.

Another flash of light, nearby and to her right. A very tall, black shadowy shape stood there holding a long staff, its back to her.

Where was the dreamer? The twilight sky helped Erin see a little under the darkness of the trees, but she couldn’t see the dreamer anywhere.

She inched toward the mortifer, but it spun to face her and laughed—a hacking, low, wicked laugh. She drew her sword and leapt toward it.

It blocked her thrust with its staff and swung it around to hit her on the other side. She blocked that blow, sending the shadow back a few steps. She closed on it and struck again, but it leapt to the side, swinging its staff low and fast. Erin stopped it and pressed it back, further and further into the forest. She fended off every blow it struck, but it blocked every thrust of her sword, even as it retreated.

Several lights flashed around her, and Erin saw the trap. Five mortifers charged forward with staffs raised, ready to strike. She stopped and swung her sword high, shouting, “Leave! You have lost.” They hesitated, and Erin felt their uncertainty.

She grasped her sword with both hands and swirled in a circle to send them tumbling backwards. They wavered as she crouched and leapt at the closest one, swinging her sword to slice across its face. Its cry filled the air, and its black shape melted into vapor that flowed across the ground and dissipated.

She whirled around to face the rest, but they turned and ran, heading deeper into the forest. She listened for a moment and called out, “Where are you?” She hoped the dreamer was nearby.

The only sound was the wind in the trees. She called again, “Where are you?”

Still no answer. Erin shivered. She sheathed her sword and ran, following the path the mortifers had taken. They had a head start on her, and she feared an ambush, but she had to find the dreamer. The trail grew darker, but her senses were alert, on guard for any sound or smell out of the ordinary. Tightness grew in her chest as she ran, her stomach tensed with fear as she remembered Bruce with the knife in his gut. He had been chasing a mortifer, too.

A cry filled the forest, and Erin’s skin rose in gooseflesh. She stopped and drew her sword again. The dreamer. She trembled as she stood, her heart pounding, but still she could see nothing but the darkness of the trees. She kept going along the path in the direction of the cry. The faint stench of decay grew as she headed deeper into the forest.

A sharp blow whacked her across her shoulders and sent her flying into the trees. Her sword flew from her grasp, but she was back on her feet in an instant. She pulled the knife from her boot just as another blow struck her across her back and threw her forward onto her face in the dirt. She rolled and jumped to her feet, but her knife was gone.

A low laugh rumbled nearby. Erin faced it and could see the mortifer there in the dark, its staff raised above its head, ready to strike her again. She ducked from its swing, rushed toward it, and grabbed the staff. Caught off-guard, it let go, and Erin slammed the staff across its head. The blow threw it down, and its blackness melted into the ground, but the stench grew.

Again she was hit from behind, and two more blows smacked her from the side and dropped her to her knees as more mortifers emerged from the forest. Icy trembling swept through her whole body, and her eyes stung with tears. She staggered to her feet and swung the staff at the mortifers on the path, when a blade from behind skewered her low in the back and pain like fire shot through her body. The searing agony overwhelmed her. She cried out and fell to her knees again just as another staff struck her. She heard it crack, and she collapsed forward face down on the ground. A crow cawed overhead.

She squeezed her eyes shut, coughed, and tasted blood and dirt. She heard more blows being struck and a loud wail, and when she opened her eyes she saw two men storming through the shadows, their savage swords cleaving through the mortifers. She tried to focus on the men, on their swords, on the light around them, but the agony in her back was more than she could bear, and she began to slip into oblivion. She turned her head to the side and was sick.