Warrior of the Ages (Warriors of the Ages) (25 page)

RUNNING THROUGH SUMMER rain, Kahtar’s mind focused obsessively on one thing, Beth White’s heart. Not since the night he’d killed Berwick’s men had Beth’s heart even skimmed by Kahtar’s. When she slept it frolicked closest, around the perimeter, just out of reach from his. Both Willet and Brigg could surely feel it. Both warriors stood far too close as she slept, nothing else could have made them hover so near to watch Honor and Beth sleep. Outside the veil a manhunt was going on, but none of these warriors even tried to get in on it.

Honor certainly felt Beth’s heart. His bright blue eyes looked intoxicated most of the time. The thought that Honor might declare to Beth, might join with her and make her a willing member of their clan, should have been a solution Kahtar could appreciate. It wasn’t. Racing through puddles in the storm he tried to shove that thought away, telling himself that he’d had no real intentions towards her. For millennia he had existed to be Warrior Chief, not husband, and he couldn’t think of one logical reason it should make him so angry that Beth’s heart had gone dark to his.

Three hours later, Kahtar ran back up the porch steps and neither Brigg nor Willet appeared to have moved. Honor was awake, his face nuzzling into Beth’s hair as she slept peacefully. Without a word Kahtar rushed into the house, pausing only long enough to threaten the plebes. The only comment he made, before he left for the day, was to growl to Brigg and Willet.

“The woman has a bed to sleep in now, and she certainly doesn’t need three warriors to guard her under a veil.”

Arriving at the cave in a deluge, it occurred to Kahtar that he’d just paved the way for Honor Monroe. Now the warrior would be alone with Beth all day long, with just plebes to chaperone. Honor might take it as encouragement to court Beth. Kahtar should have meant it that way, instead of simply sending warriors away because they were enjoying Beth’s heart when he couldn’t. Rain came down in sheets, even inside the Arc it was storming. It seemed to cut through him, synchronized with the pain of Beth and Honor nestled together on the porch that he’d spent months building. Somehow that made it worse.

Suddenly, an Old Guard blinked into existence right in front of him. His shimmering outstretched hand kept Kahtar from walking right into him, but Kahtar lost his footing on the wet ground and slid right down with a muddy splash. Cold water immediately penetrated his trousers and he hurried to stand.

The Old Guard didn’t smile or offer assistance, stating only what he’d come to say.

“A vehicle with a bomb inside was left parked outside of 35 Pearl Street.” Then in a flash of light Kahtar was standing outside Beth’s empty shop in the pouring rain, trying not to fall again.

“IT’S A GOOD thing the neighboring shops are empty.” A good-looking green-eyed warrior, a relative of the clan’s handsome doctor, made the comment. Half the clan seemed to be made up of Palmer men. Kahtar wondered what Beth would think of them when she saw them, and it annoyed him.

Turning his attention from the man, Kahtar looked around the shop. Everything had been meticulously cleaned in the Orphan’s absence, and his mind strayed from the bomb that had been planted outside. He wondered why Cultuelle Khristos hadn’t had everything in the shop on Pearl Street taken away. Beth was never going to be allowed to run it. Yet not only had they repaired the damage from Berwick’s attack, they’d repaired hundreds of little things. Fresh handmade wallpaper had been hung, worn woodwork sanded and refinished, and more shelving had been artfully installed. Every box had been unpacked and the items that Beth had hoped to someday give away or sell were neatly on display. It occurred to him that Cultuelle Khristos was wooing Beth, just like Honor Monroe.

“Yeah.” Brigg made the comment, peering out a window at the empty rental truck still parked out front. “In this weather a stiff wind might have caused that truck to explode. Thank ilu for Abigail and her vanishing tesseracts. We might have been blown to bits trying to get rid of that bomb if it weren’t for her.”

The Palmer warrior pointed out the obvious. “I thought this Berwick clan wanted the Orphan. Why would they try to kill her now?”

Kahtar interrupted. “They’re playing us, keeping us occupied while they search for her. They knew perfectly well she wouldn’t be here.” Beth was safe under the veil, but suddenly he wanted to get back there and check on her, make sure.

Several Old Guard shimmered into being inside the shop. Kahtar looked up expectantly, but in an unusual move they clustered around a shelf, ignoring the warriors. When they left in a burst of light, everything on the shelf was gone and a pile of gold coins had been left behind.
Brack tea, the Old Guard just bought all of her brack tea.
Maybe Beth’s shop would flourish within the Cultuelle after all. The Palmer warrior groaned and Brigg voiced his objection.

“They took all that tea! I’ve been dying for another cup of that stuff!”

Now that Kahtar thought about it, he remembered there was a box of brack tea in a drawer at the police station. Heading for the door he noticed Beth’s car keys sitting on a shelf filled with jars of honey. On her silver key fob a Celtic cross dangled. Picking them up he ran a thumb over the icon almost identical to the one engraved on the handles of his swords. Most of his existence his clans would never have allowed the symbol, but Cultuelle Khristos embraced it. Beth embraced it too, apparently.

“I’m taking her car,” He said to no one in particular.

IF IT WEREN’T raining and Kahtar could put the roof down, Beth’s convertible would have been much more pleasant to drive. As it was his head poked uncomfortably into the canvas roof, still he was happy he’d thought to take it to her. Beth could charge her laptop and iPod with it. The box of brack tea sat on the seat beside him and he drove the vehicle under the veil that hid his home, and right up the long driveway despite the fact that he normally didn’t allow motorized vehicles to drive the long miles to his house, polluting the inside of the veil the whole way. This was an exception because maybe Beth would be pleased to see it. Maybe she’d look at him with something other than revulsion for a change. She was nowhere in sight and something was obviously wrong when he pulled up to the house and got out of her car.

Honor paced back and forth in front of the house, oblivious to the rain.

“Where is she?” Kahtar growled. He sensed Beth then, a couple miles to the south, wandering through the woods in the pouring rain with Wolves at her heels.

“You told me to let her go so I did. Can I go get her now?”

“No, but you can follow out of sight, stick close enough that you can scan her, just to be sure she’s safe. She’s two miles to the southwest. Berwick’s clan can’t get inside, but we’re not going to underestimate them.” He knew he was being ridiculous, that Beth would be fine inside the veil even in the rain. Before Honor could take two steps he shouted after him.

“Why did she run?”

“I told her that she needed to go inside the house, you’d insisted. I think she expected I’d force her because she pushed me down the steps and took off. Your weapons really upset her.”

Nice, Monroe, make me the bad guy.
Though it was the truth, he was the bad guy.

“You let Beth push you down the stairs?”

“Should I have pushed her down to stop her? You said to let her go.”

Nodding, Kahtar headed up the stairs. Warrior instincts were strong. However briefly, Honor had at least considered defending himself.

“Follow her. Just don’t let her see you.”

AT DARK KAHTAR put a lantern on the front porch. Warrior, Willet Evans, showed up, seeming to materialize from thin air near a Rose of Sharon tree across the driveway. They were cousins by blood, but as Welcome Palmer had pointed out, physically there was no sign of the relationship. Willet had Mediterranean good looks like Kahtar’s Mother.

“Chief? I’m on watch tonight.”

Punctual as they were taught to be, Honor slouched back from the woods, soaking wet and water sloshed over the top of his boots with every step he took. Kahtar told him to go home. In the faint light of the single lantern, water ran from Honor’s dark hair and dripped into his blue eyes. He looked wretched.

“I think she’s lost, Chief, she’s been wandering in circles the entire evening.”

“She’ll survive and be less likely to run off again.”

Speaking from his heart, Honor implored.

“She’s found the southern edge of the veil. It’s cold and miserable back there. Those heels she wears have made her feet bloody. I don’t know why she doesn’t take them off. The worst part is she keeps drinking water from puddles.”

“For the love of…did you scan it?”

“Yeah. It isn’t polluted scientifically speaking, but it isn’t clean either. It’s teaming with bacteria. Apparently she doesn’t know any better. I’ve been getting as close as I dared, praying for healing. It helped some, but she surely doesn’t feel too hot.”

Willet Evans, hard edged Warrior of ilu, stood in the streaming rain, his thick eyebrows pulled together in a frown over black eyes.

“She’ll learn to quit drinking dirty water then, won’t she?” Looking towards Kahtar, he reassured. “I’ll intervene if it becomes life threatening.”

Dispassionate adherence to duty had once impressed Kahtar. Not in this case, the remark struck him as callous and extreme. Honor appeared to be in some agony himself as he waited for his Warrior Chief’s verdict. Kahtar leaned to adjust the lantern perched on the edge of the porch. Picking up two sets of car keys he’d left there, he tossed them to Willet.

“Put those inside the house. I’ll guard Beth tonight.”