Viator (The Viator Chronicles Book 1) (33 page)

“See you Friday.”

Erin tossed out the rest of her coffee and sat down next to Matt. “I’ve got to run an errand in town, but I won’t be very long. We can do something fun when I get back, okay?”

“Sure,” Matt said.

“Okay, Mom,” Gwen said. “Let’s go see Julie’s kitten later.”

Erin pulled on a denim jacket, grabbed her purse and went out the door. Cold dew still covered the grass, and fog swirled in wisps across the ground.

She drove along the highway into town and debated about going to see Michael. Her midnight resolve had faded into doubt—doubt about the dreams and doubt about him, with more than a little fear of facing him again. But she needed to talk to him and decided not to turn back.

She pulled to the curb and walked up the path to his porch. The flowers blooming in pots beside the door gave the house a friendly atmosphere, and Erin’s courage rose. She rang the doorbell and waited. Bruce opened the door.

“Hi, Erin,” he said in obvious surprise. “Are you looking for Aleesha? You just missed her—she’s on her way to the gallery.”

“No, I’m actually here to see Michael. Is he here?”

“No.” He frowned. “I’m not sure where he is. He left sometime in the early morning, and I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”

“Oh.” Erin’s eyes searched the ground as this information sank in. “What did he say? You don’t know where he went?”

“Come in and sit down,” Bruce said, opening the door wide.

“Thanks. He left in the early morning?”

Bruce led her to a couch and sat beside her.

“He left me a note, so I think he left some time during the night. He didn’t wake us. Here it is.” Bruce retrieved the note from the side table and handed it to her.

Bruce—Am going away to finish the book. Not sure when I’ll be back. When you go to Portland, would you ask Aleesha to water the plants? M.

“It sounds like he plans to be gone a long time,” Erin said.

“It’s hard to say. He knows I have to drive back to Portland for classes tomorrow,” Bruce said.

“Do you know where he would go?”

“No. He’s gone off to different places when he wants time to be alone to write, so there’s no way to know. But he’ll let his agent know soon. His agent usually knows where he is.”

Erin felt like crumbling. “I really wanted to talk to him. What about his cell phone?”

“I already tried to reach him on his cell, but it’s shut off.”

She sighed. “If you get hold of him, would you tell him I stopped by?”

“Sure.”

“Would you ask him to call me?”

“Of course.”

Erin stood up and walked to the door while Bruce followed. She tried to hold them back, but a few tears ran down her face.

“What happened? Was it a dream?” Bruce asked.

“You know about the dreams?”

“Was Michael hurt?

Erin looked at the ground and brushed her tears away.
Bruce knows, too.
These are not ordinary dreams at all.
“How do you know about these dreams?”

“I thought Michael talked to you about them. You still don’t remember them?”

“It seems crazy.”

He shook his head. “Believe me, it’s not crazy. Those dreams are as real as you and I standing here right now. Was Michael hurt?”

“We argued and he was angry. Then we had to fight five of them—five … mortifers. He was hurt but not badly.” She shook her head and frowned. “He threw his sword and left it there.”

“He left his sword there?” Bruce grasped Erin’s arm. “Why?”

Erin turned away, the knot in her stomach growing more painful. “He was furious with me.”

“Oh. Well. I’ll go get his sword. Tell me where this happened.”

“I don’t know where it was—on a deserted city street somewhere, on the second floor of a concrete building. How will you find it?”

“I’ll focus on the sword. Well, now I understand why he left. I’ll try to find him as soon as I can and give him your message.”

“Thanks,” she said. She went to her car and the sick feeling grew inside her.

After driving home she took Matt to Jacob’s house, then spent the rest of the day with Gwen making cookies and visiting Julie’s new kitten. All day she hoped for a call from Bruce or Michael that didn’t come.

That night she searched for Michael in her dreams, but instead she lost her way traveling through a murky forest. She felt the cold dread of a mortifer following behind, but it never came close enough for her to see. She woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed, sweat dripping from her face.

*****

Bruce crept through the dark city street, avoiding the occasional glow of a streetlight overhead as he passed shattered windows in crumbling empty buildings. He studied each building he passed, pausing at every doorway to sense the right direction.

When he reached a two-story concrete block building, the skin on his scalp prickled and his stomach lurched. He knew at last he’d found it. But how many mortifers lay in wait?

Without a sound, he pulled his sword from its sheath, yanked the door open, and slipped inside. Icy air hit him, knocking his breath away. He crept forward heading for the stairs, and a sickening stench grew as he approached.

A black shadow grew in the hall beyond the stairway—a mortifer. Bruce rushed it, slashed straight across its torso with his sword in both hands, and it blew apart. Another one was behind the first, ready for him. It swung its blade over Bruce’s head, brought it down hard. Bruce lunged to the side and forced his sword up, but the mortifer twirled around and the stroke fell wide. It laughed and charged, swinging its blade. Bruce danced backwards, feinted to the left, and cut upward, slashing the shadow. Its eyes burned bright red, then shattered like crumbling coals as it dissipated.

Bruce stood alert listening to the silence, then sprinted up the stairs.

Pale light from the windows cast shadows around the room, making ghostly shapes of the toppled sheet-covered furniture. Bruce surveyed the room and ran to the nearby wall. He pulled the sword from where it was stuck.

“To Domus,” he said and faded from the room.

Chapter 47

The week dragged by with no word from either Michael or Bruce. Each day brought Erin closer to her meeting with Gary, and her dread for that meeting grew. Thursday evening, after the children were in bed, Erin tidied the kitchen and folded a load of clothes from the dryer. She made herself a cup of peppermint tea and threw the teabag into the trash. The garbage was full, so she picked up the bag to take it outside.

As she stepped out the back door, a dark form rose slowly from the ground in the bushes in front of her. She dropped the garbage. An icy gust of wind blew, and she pulled her sweater tightly around her body; her bare feet hurt from the sudden chill. The shape grew taller until it blotted out some of the stars. Was this a man, or a trick of the shadows? She peered up at it, and its searing eyes stabbed through her. Terror spiraled through Erin’s body. Could this be a mortifer escaped from her dreams?

She cried out and dropped to her knees on the gravel driveway, blackness almost overwhelming her, and the creature stretched out its icy claws. Erin felt its bitter touch. She recoiled, and it laughed—a high, hollow sound that was frigid in the night air. When a crow landed in the fir tree overhead and let out one loud caw, the shadow hesitated. It stood motionless while the crow flew to the ground nearby and called out, “Caw, caw, caw,” as it hopped toward Erin.

She knew she had to get up. As if in slow motion, she lifted herself from the ground and was almost overwhelmed with nausea. Fight it, she thought, keep moving.

The crow drank from a nearby puddle, and the shadow stretched taller, looming over Erin. Taking a deep breath, she turned and ran across the soft lawn of her garden and down the pathway toward the beach.
Could that thing swim?
She wouldn’t last long herself in the frigid water. A faint groan escaped her as she turned to see if it had followed her.

The tide was out and the rocky shoreline glowed faintly in the light of the moon. Erin scanned the beach and the pathway, her heart pounding.
What was that thing? Where was it? Was it gone?

The crow cawed, and the hair on the back of her neck rose as she felt the air become icy cold once again, and the shadowy creature emerged on the path—a darker black than the woods behind it. Erin turned and fled along the beach without looking back, with no idea where she could go. The sharp rocks and barnacles cut into her bare feet, but she kept running, while the beach grew narrower and rockier as the tide rose.

A large boulder blocked her way, stretching from the forest to the water, so she stopped, her heart racing, her lungs about to burst. She whirled around and saw the shadow a distance away, slowly gliding toward her. The rock face was too steep to climb, so she thrashed into the woods, searching for a path to the road. She stumbled over tangled brush and a small rowboat covered with vines. Pulling with all her strength, Erin dragged and pushed the little boat out of the woods. She could find only one oar. She pulled the boat over the rocks to shore, and pushing hard, she got it into the water.

The brittle voice of the mortifer called out behind her. “You will never get away.”

The stench gagged her, and she stumbled.

“Go away.” Erin tried to yell, but her voice faded to a whisper.

The thing mocked her with its high-pitched laugh. “You are weak.”

She felt like she would be sick.

“It amuses us that this viator has taken a lover.”

Erin’s head jerked up. The sound of its words hurt her to her bones.

The glint from a knife caught her eye as the shadow bent toward her. “Such irony. The very man who paid us to put an end to your William. Wretched fool. You are so easily seduced.”

She fell to her knees, cringing in the face of the mortifer’s scorn. The crow flew overhead and landed on top of the rock behind her. It cawed one time, and the mortifer took a step back. Erin looked up. A salty breeze blew off the water, and she breathed it in.

“No,” she yelled. “Your words are lies.”

The mortifer stood motionless with its flaming eyes piercing through her. Erin got up and grabbed the oar from the boat. She lunged forward with the oar over her head and struck at the shadow. The oar seemed to pass through it.

It mocked her with its hissing laugh.

Erin screamed at the shadow again. “No!” She struck harder. “Go back to your hell.”

It laughed once more, but it vanished into the ground, jeering as it left. “You are ours, viator.”

Erin dropped to the ground as the crow flew away. Blackness overwhelmed her. When she could see again, her body felt like ice, and she couldn’t stop trembling. Her bare feet were cut and bleeding from rocks and barnacles, but she had to get back to the safety of her home, back to her children. She struggled to stand and hobbled the long way back down the beach to her house. The only sound she heard was that of the gentle waves.

Erin’s house was in darkness as she limped up the trail from the beach. She went straight to the kitchen door—it was closed but unlocked just as she had left it when she had taken the garbage out. She was too cold, too dazed, and in too much pain to think about what had happened. All she wanted was to get inside, make sure the children were safe, and crawl into bed.

Once inside she slipped on the flip flops left by the door and went to look in on the children. Both Matt and Gwen were sound asleep and safe in their beds. Erin stumbled to her room and approached the small, cloth-covered table. She struck a match with trembling hands and lit one of the candles, gazing at William’s photograph. She bowed her head and sank to the floor.

That had been no dream. That was real.
How had a mortifer from her dreams come into her waking life? Its scathing accusations made her nauseous, and she grabbed hold of William’s photo and hugged it close.
Its words had to be lies. How could she believe anything it said?

She went into her bathroom and filled the tub with steaming water, took off her clothes, and lowered herself into it. Her feet stung, but she needed to get them clean. The warmth helped stop her trembling. She knew she had to face it: the mortifers were real. Her dreams were real. More than ever she wanted to talk to Michael.

After stepping from the bathtub and bandaging her feet, Erin tried to call him, hoping he had turned his phone back on. No answer, and she groaned. She blew out the candle, eased herself into bed, and stared at the ceiling for a long time before drifting into a troubled sleep, haunted by the voice of the mortifer.

Chapter 48

When Friday morning finally arrived, Erin felt worn out and ready for the week to end. She put on a T-shirt and didn’t bother with much makeup. Breakfast and two cups of coffee revived her a little, and after kissing the children goodbye at school, she drove to work. She had arranged for Matt and Gwen to go directly to Edna’s after school, so if Gary showed up early, she wouldn’t need to go home.

The music store was bustling that morning, and Erin was grateful. She wanted to stay busy to keep from thinking about the night before. Her feet were very sore. In the daylight, the idea that a mortifer from her dreams had actually been at her house was almost unbelievable. Thinking about it made her skin crawl. One thing she had no doubt about being real, though, were her scars. The wound across her stomach was still healing. She had a quick lunch at the café with Hannah, who expressed concern about how tired Erin looked.

“It’s been a tough week,” Erin said. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Is it your dreams?” Hannah asked, her face anxious.

“That and too many things going on right now. I’m seeing Gary after work, and I’m really looking forward to a relaxing weekend.” She didn’t want to tell Hannah any more than that—Hannah would worry too much.

Hannah nodded. “I’m sure you’ll feel better soon.” She reached across the table and squeezed Erin’s hand.

Erin had just returned to the store after lunch when two men walked in. She recognized them as the men who had confronted Gary at Deception Pass, and she felt a shiver of fear. One had greasy brown hair slicked back from his face, and the thick black eyebrows on the other gave him a permanent frown. Both of their eyes were cold and dull. Ed was in his office upstairs.