Vulcan's Kittens (Children of Myth Book 1) (4 page)

“The other thing, my little girl, is that they consider humans... well, equivalent to pets. Or sometimes to pests. They feel threatened by the level of human knowledge right now. They have for about a century now, but they’ve been slow to see what I see.”

“Which is?”

“That humanity may shortly have weapons that could kill even us.”

“I thought you said...”

“Yes, I know, and it hasn’t happened yet. But it’s coming soon, and the balance of power will shift.”

“Will that be a good thing?”

“I don’t know, honey. I’d like to say yes.”

“But you’re worried.”

“Yep, I am. They are going to be interesting times, and past experience...” His eyes shifted and she knew he was remembering, and she shivered a little at the knowledge that he’d been there through terrible times. “Well, a lot of people may die. Life won’t be easy, like it is now.”

“So what do we do?”

Heff smiled at his pugnacious little granddaughter. Of all the children he’d helped raise over the millennia, she was his favorite. He’d long given over mourning the mayfly intensity of life and death among humans, and settled into enjoying the glorious beauty of their existence. This one delighted him.

“You do nothing but watch over the kittens. I have to go, but you aren’t ready to join the fight, yet.”

Linn thrust out her lower lip. “I can help somehow.”

“You are. Keeping the children safe means we continue. Losing the children would be the greatest tragedy.”

“So we just stay here?”

“Well,” he hesitated. No, not yet. “For now, yes. The kittens aren’t ready to travel yet. And the barn is a safe place for them.”

“Why the barn?”

“My, might as well call it magic, is strongest out there, where I’ve worked the most. Sweated and bled and it’s built on the remains of an even older structure, that was built by what you would call Native Americans. They weren’t natives any more than we are, but it’ll do for a quick naming. It had power when I found this place. So the best place to keep the kittens hidden is there.”

“Why are the kittens so important?”

She’d hit on it there. “I can’t tell you that, either. Trust me they are, OK?”

“Well, I love my puddy paw babies, so I won’t argue or ask too many questions. I do get OpSec, Grampa.”

Heff laughed out loud at the seriousness of her combined with the baby talk and mil-speak. “Good, then, you’ll be my first soldier. But for now, first lesson.”

Her face set in concentration immediately. “Yes, Grampa?”

“A soldier sleeps when he can, eats when he can. You never know when the next chance will come. So you, princess, need to go to bed.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, but left obediently. He watched her out to the barn and stood in the doorway watching the appearing stars and smoking his pipe for a very long time. He’d do anything to keep her safe - to keep them all safe - but he was beginning to fear it was too late for that. The stars here were so bright in the clear sky. He knocked the dottle out of his pipe and tipped his head back, looking up at the Milky Way. A dark shape swooped through his field of vision and he started, before realizing it was only a barn owl.

“Past time I was away,” he muttered, reaching for his shearling jacket and shrugging it on. He wouldn’t sleep tonight. He’d walk the land and reset wards. The babysitter would be here, soon, and Heff knew what he had to do, then.

Chapter 5

In the morning, Linn milked the goats and fed the kittens.

Then her grandfather called her into the yard. “Ever built a fire from scratch?” Heff asked. He stood there with his hands in his jeans pocket, looking relaxed and casual.

Linn looked at him, puzzled. He was different today. “I’ve made fires while out camping with Mom and Dad, they wanted to teach me how to take care of myself.”

“Show me.” He didn’t move.

She looked at him for a minute and then realized he wouldn’t help. She shrugged and trotted into the house. The things she wanted were easy to find. Back outside, she glanced around to pick a spot. Close by, there was really only one option. She knelt on the driveway and crumpled up paper, then grabbed some dead flower stalks from the border, and a few small pieces of kindling from the woodpile. She struck the match on the box she’d brought out, shielding it from the wind with her hand, and ignited the paper.

“Good. Do it again. House and woodpile off limits.”

Heff dumped a bucket of water over her kindling blaze, and Linn hopped back, spluttering indignantly. He took the matches from her.

“But, but!”

“Nope. You can do it.”

“I carry a match safe in the woods.”

“How many matches in it?”

“Um, about a dozen?”

“What happens if you’re out there,” he indicated the looming mountains with a sweep of his arm, “more than a week?”

She sighed. She knew in theory how to do this. Looking grumpily back at him, she set off for the woods. This collection took a little longer. She was vaguely aware that Grampa Heff was in the woods nearby, but he was very quiet. She didn’t really want to talk to him, and wasn’t about to ask for help.

The first thing she looked for was a paper birch. The bark was highly flammable and could be lit even wet. She had a handful of it in her survival kit, but Grampa had set the parameters, and her pack was indoors. All she had was her belt pouch and knife. This turned a difficult task into a time-consuming one. With her knife she cut dry twigs down and tied them into a neat bundle with braided grass and hung this from one of her belt loops. The birch bark went into her pocket along with a handful of dry grass. She found some dry, fallen wood. She didn’t bother to break them, as long pieces could be arranged radially and pushed in as they burned down.

When she walked out of the woods with her hands full, Heff was hunkered down by the long driveway. He nodded at her. “Come t’ house.”

Linn followed him to the yard, where the fire ring he used for barbecuing had been cleaned out. He had a platter of food on the table. Linn laughed at that, and built the fire carefully. Bark first, shredded and cocooned with the dried grass. The twigs on that, then the tree limbs, arranged to give the kernel of the fire air. Pulling out her knife and flint striker, she rested the striker on the bark, pushing down firmly and creating a stream of sparks that jetted into the tinder. A couple of tries and she could see glowing spots that she blew on to feed the fire. Flames flicked up, and she rearranged the twigs to be in better contact with the tinder. Rocking back on her heels, she smiled up at her grandfather. “Better?”

“Very good. I’ll cook lunch while you check on the kittens.”

Linn could feel her cheeks warm at his praise. Grampa Heff didn’t do it much, so she knew she’d passed his first test. She wondered what the next one would be. The kittens were waiting for her at the gate, ready for their bottles. She felt guilty for having left them most of the morning, but then thought of a mother cat. The kittens would be alone while she was out hunting. Linn cuddled them and washed them after their bottles, until they were ready to fall asleep again. They slept a lot.

Her own stomach grumbled, and she sniffed. Grampa’s cooking smelled good. She sniffed again. Smelled like bacon. Linn scrambled down the ladder and Grampa Heff handed her a plate full of bacon and eggs. He’d pulled and washed a handful of sorrel and lightly wilted it in the bacon grease. It was delicious, and she had seconds.

Her stomach full, she sighed and smiled up at him. “Did I pass?”

“Yep. Figured your Mom did OK with you. But I needed to be sure.”

“We used to go camping a lot.” Linn looked at the little fire dying into embers. Grampa had pulled it apart so it would go out. She felt happy. Her Dad would have liked what Grampa had done today. He’d taught her as much as her mother had. They had gone camping in all seasons, and she’d loved every trip.

“You miss him.”

“Yeah, but it’s OK. This... He would have liked this.”

Heff nodded. “He was a good man.”

“Did he know... about you, and Mom?”

Heff shook his head. “No, he didn’t. But then, most mortals never know. We’re safer that way, both mortal and immortal.”

She nodded. “I won’t tell.”

“I know you won’t. Now, I need to get some work done in the smithy today.”

“I’ll make dinner,” she offered shyly.

Heff laughed. “I’ll take you up on that, as long as it’s one of your Dad’s recipes.”

Linn laughed along with him, feeling something in her heart ease a little. If she couldn’t have her father, she at least had the goodness of her memories of him. Her mother really couldn’t cook. Everything was burned or raw, with her. Linn had been her father’s “little chef” since she could stand on a stool at his elbow, and she liked to cook. Tonight she’d have fun.

“Well, if you’re going to cook it, go out and get it.” Grampa took her plate along with his.

“What?” Linn stared up at him in confusion.

“Kill it, clean it, and then cook it, girl. You won’t always have a supermarket and a refrigerator at your beck and call.”

“I don’t know how,” she protested.

“You shoot pretty good with your .22, your Mom tells me.”

“I didn’t bring it.”

“Well, here.” Heff reached behind the woodpile and handed her a .22 rifle. Plain and worn, she could see immediately that it was old. “I’ve had it for a long spell. Time you got to take care of her.”

He handed her a leather pouch which had six cartridges in it. “You can’t get game with that many, we go hungry. Time will come you’ll get two... one for each of us.”

Linn nodded. She wasn’t sure they wouldn’t go hungry tonight. Her parents hadn’t taught her how to hunt, or trap, although she’d read books about it.

Heff smiled. “Don’t look so stricken. Go find a couple of rabbits, bring ‘em home and I’ll teach you how to clean them.”

Linn put the pouch on her belt and picked up her day pack. She knew she needed to learn this, but this was challenging. Then she grinned. “All right, Grampa. I’ll be home soon!”

Heff chuckled as she walked away. She was feisty. She had a chance in this messy world of theirs. He stretched a hand out over the fire, feeling the warmth of it, and then closed his fingers. The fire went out, and he could feel the energy he’d just absorbed racing through his body. Time to get to work.

Chapter 6

Sekhmet licked a sore paw contemplatively. Even traveling the higher paths was hard on the feet when one had been gone as long as she had. Beast form made the travel easier to bear, but she was weary
.
No one appreciates how large an entire planet really is until they try to visit a quarter of it within a mont
h
, she thought. “At least it’s not the whole damn thing,” she snarled aloud.

Her traveling companion looked at her in amusement. “Dear lady, have strength. Vulcan will join us ere long and the fight will begin in earnest.”

“You and your Ye Olde English. Shove it, Peter. My feet hurt. Battle comes and I’m going to be incapable of shifting a paw to help his generalship.”

“The artificer will no doubt be surprised to hear his doughtiest warrior speak so,” he intoned, but she could see the twinkle in his eye.

Sekhmet lifted her lips, baring her fangs. He just laughed and levered himself up with his staff. Unlike her, he was no immortal. His mortality was evident in his motions as he stretched a little and began to walk. She paced alongside and he placed a hand on her withers, evidently grateful for the unspoken assistance. Here, in the higher plane, where time slipped by at a different rate, he was merely very old. Below in the human lands he would have been dust a century ago.

“Your children?” he asked after a few moments. His muscles had loosened and he walked more easily. Sekhmet felt his weight taken from her.

“Are safe with the Guardian. She grows apace with them, Vulcan tells me.”

“Good. The young ones should be spared.” He sighed heavily.

“They never are,” the big cat murmured in response to his unspoken memories of atrocities long past.

“The Scholar will give us some answers.”

Sekhmet snorted. If the creature could be coaxed from its mad lair. Peter would help with that. He was often the only voice the Scholar heard in that cobwebby brain of hers. She believed he was an angel. Even Peter had stopped trying to persuade her otherwise.

Peter had come to the land above, which legends below named Fata Morgana, Atlantis, and dozens of other names, when he lay dying on a battlefield. The Scholar, known for her mad ways above and below alike, had come upon him, a broken human soldier. She had healed him and brought him here. He was by no means the only mortal here, although it had become very rare for humans to dwell in the higher plane in the last century.

Sekhmet sighed. She only vaguely remembered her mother’s tales of the time before this plane had been created. When the creatures styled the Titans by the humans had burst through and fallen the long, long way to Earth. In the millennia since, these wars had erupted from time to time
.
It was like living on one of Vulcan’s mountains of fire
,
she thought irritably.