Blurred Memories (2 page)

Blake had once been utterly
unable to hide his feelings—not that he would have bothered to even
try. He had proclaimed them for the world to see with the turn of
his lips or the depth of a frown. Now however, more and more often
it sometimes seemed, Marc found himself incapable of reading
Blake’s thoughts from his expression. Decades in hell—because in
Marc’s mind, the demon dimension was the worst hell he could
imagine—had taught Blake to hide his emotions. After a few months,
though, Marc had learned that the blank looks usually meant nothing
good; bad dreams and worse memories were never far. And this time
he thought he knew what was going on in Blake’s head.

“
No one would think any
less of you if you changed your mind.”

He didn’t mention names, but
judging by Blake’s reaction, Marc might as well have said it
plainly. Kate would understand if they didn’t join this particular
battle. There were still many breaches to close, many fights to
come, and no rush for them to return to it all.

“
Damn it, Marc!”

In one angry motion, Blake
was out of bed and pacing through the small bedroom.

“
I want to go! I want to
fight! What language do I have to say it in so that it’ll get
through that thick skull of yours?”

Marc sighed. Back to
insults. Blake was predictable sometimes. Too predictable. It
sounded as though he were reciting the lines he thought Marc
expected.

“
I was just saying you have
a right to stay out of it,” he pointed out. “I don’t want you to
feel like it’s something you have to do.”

Blake snorted, and his voice
dropped in volume and took a bitter tone. “Yeah, right. I can just
stay here while you take Kate under your arm and go check on your
other Childe, and then you three can get all the fighting
fun.”

Marc sat up and continued to
observe Blake. He was still pacing like a caged feline, giving the
impression of a restrained force ready to burst out. He was still
expressionless. The only change was that now he was trembling, and
Marc grimaced at that realization. Blake had seemed to be doing so
well; what was putting him so much on edge?

“
You’re not staying alone,”
Marc said gruffly. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Blake paused in his nervous
pacing and looked at Marc; he didn’t flinch. That, at least, was
progress. Marc knew his eyes had to be golden with how annoyed—how
worried—he was. The sight of Marc’s anger used to make the fear
peak instantly in Blake’s scent.

“
What about Daniel?” Blake
insisted. “What about Kate?”

It sounded too much like a
ultimatum: choose between Daniel and Kate or Blake. Marc had wanted
to see Daniel and check on him for a while now, and both he and
Blake would miss Kate if she left without them. But neither thing
truly mattered, not in the face of this simple fact: Daniel and
Kate were fine, but Blake was far from healed. His body had long
since recovered from the ordeal of his captivity in the demon
dimension, but his mind still saw pain when he looked at Marc. It
happened less often, or maybe Blake was becoming better at hiding
it, but Marc knew it wasn’t over.

“
Kate’s a big girl,” Marc
finally replied. “She will go if she must, and come back to us when
she can. And Daniel’s fine without me.” He left out the ‘you’re
not’ that would have pissed off Blake, even more so because it was
true. “Now, are you coming to bed or what? Kate will be back soon,
and if she sees you pacing, you know what she’ll think.”

Blake raked his fingers
through his hair before slipping into bed with his back to Marc.
“Yeah, we better catch some sleep,” he muttered. He started
reaching to turn off the light, but seemed to change his mind and
left it on. “Long drive ahead of us tomorrow night.”

Marc didn’t reply, but
rolled his eyes at the back of Blake’s head. Typical Blake, to push
to see how far Marc would go, and then backpedal once he had his
answer. It didn’t matter, though. Not as long as Blake wasn’t
shaking anymore.

Marc wasn’t really tired,
and for a long time he simply lay there, listening to the silence
broken every now and then by Blake taking in a random breath. He
planned out what he needed to do before they left the house where
they had taken Blake to recover. He’d need to drop by the butcher
to stop the blood deliveries and get supplies for the trip. He’d
pay his running tab at the local pub, too. The home-brewed beer was
terrible, at least as far as he was concerned, but it wasn’t
rationed, unlike in cities that were under direct siege from
demons. He’d pack a travel bag and remind Blake to do the same. He
trusted Kate not to need such a reminder.

Kate still hadn’t returned
when Marc realized something was off. Blake’s breathing was not
random anymore, but regular and gradually becoming faster,
shallower. That, and the faint thread of fear rising in his scent
hinted at what was happening, and Marc wasn’t surprised that Blake
was having yet another nightmare. Ever since Blake had suggested
they return to the squad, the nightmares had become more frequent.
Blake refused to acknowledge them, of course, pretending everything
was fine if Marc or Kate raised the subject, but they both knew
what was going on. They didn’t know what form the nightmares took,
though. They had never discussed it, but Marc could guess, and he
knew Kate must have, too. Marc would have bet his fangs they were
both the stars of Blake’s bad dreams.

Kate had never been held by
demons the way Blake had, but Blake’s memories claimed otherwise,
and he had been very protective of her for the past few months.
That was another thing none of them had ever commented on, but
Blake always did his best not to leave Marc and Kate alone if he
could avoid it. He knew Marc had never hurt her, just as he knew
Marc hadn’t been the one who had tortured him, but knowing so was
one thing; letting go of his fears was something entirely
different.

Marc’s only hope was that
once they returned to the fight, Blake would be able to exorcize
some of his memories by killing demons.

His hand closed around
Blake’s arm, holding tight. Blake let out a small whimper in his
sleep.

“
Wake up, Blake,” Marc
said, trying to make the words less of an order and more of a
suggestion. “It’s just a night—”

“
Don’t say that word,” came
the slightly shaky reply as Blake tensed and tried to shake off
Marc’s hand.

Marc didn’t let go; he had
learned the hard way not to let Blake go before making sure that he
was completely awake. He had also learned not to keep anything that
could be fashioned into a stake in the bedroom.

“
Fine, what do you want me
to call it?”

Slowly, Blake stopped
fighting Marc’s grip and relaxed again, rolling onto his back. He
didn’t answer Marc’s question.

“
They’re getting worse,
aren’t they?” Marc asked after a moment, finally releasing Blake’s
arm. Again, there was no answer; he hadn’t expected one.

By the time Kate came back,
Blake was asleep again. She undressed quietly, slipped on a
nightshirt, and turned off the light. She climbed into bed on
Blake’s other side to curl up against him as she did most nights,
and as always she reached around Blake for Marc. He took her hand
and squeezed it gently before entwining their fingers. It wasn’t
long before the regular rhythm of her breathing announced that she,
too, had drifted into sleep.

Marc remained awake long
after sunrise, ready to fight off memories and illusions, or
whatever Blake wanted to call them, if they surfaced again;
determined to protect his lovers from more heartache in any way he
possibly could.

Chapter 2

Kate’s cheek still tingled
by the time the pub’s door closed behind Marc and Blake.

A few minutes earlier, Marc
had said he was ready to turn in, and he had given Kate a quick
look to remind her that he’d asked her to give him some time to
talk to Blake. In return, she had responded as he’d expected by
saying that she needed to talk to Simon a little longer. She hadn’t
even lied; she did need to talk to him and try, one last time, to
convince him to come with them.

Unaware of her promise to
Marc, Blake had leaned close to Kate and murmured a quiet, “Don’t
be long,” in her ear before pulling away. For a moment, she had
been so sure he would kiss her, she had frozen lest she scare him
off when she moved. But he hadn’t touched her, of course not.
Marc’s soft kiss on her cheek had felt like both an apology for
leaving her behind and a plea for her not to lose hope.

“
You should have gone with
them,” Simon muttered into his drink, low enough that the music
drifting from the old-fashioned jukebox in the corner of the room
almost drowned out his words.

When he had joined them at
their table, he had asked for lemonade at first, but one amused
glance from Blake had been enough. Turning back to the waitress,
Simon had changed his order to a beer. The back of his neck had
been flushed scarlet in embarrassment. Kate didn’t care what he
chose to drink; she was just glad that Blake felt good enough to
tease anyone about anything. It hadn’t been all that long ago that
blank looks and silence were the best that could be expected from
him. Even coming to the pub and looking like he was having fun was
an accomplishment for him.

“
You should have gone,”
Simon repeated, a little louder now, his mouth still twisted from
the taste of the beer. He didn’t like alcohol, but he was stubborn
enough to drink the entire glass, even if Blake was gone. “I know
what you’re going to say, and I’m not going to change my mind. I’m
not leaving Riverton.”

Kate pushed away her own
empty glass and looked at Simon. He kept his head down, hiding
behind his bangs, and didn’t bother to pretend he was enjoying
himself anymore. That charade had only been for Blake.

They all knew Simon had had
a crush on him almost since the moment they had all met in the
foggy ruins of the City. They also knew Blake did not return
Simon’s interest. Still, Simon’s crush had never abated. He had
showed up at the pub that night because Blake would be there,
supposedly to say goodbye since Blake, Marc, and Kate were to leave
town the next night.

Then again, Blake was gone
now, and Simon wasn’t running away from the request he knew Kate
wanted to make. Maybe it wouldn’t be as useless as he claimed to
try to convince him. Maybe he wanted to be convinced, whether he
admitted it to himself or not.

“
It’s your right to stay
here,” Kate said almost offhandedly. “No one can force you to
return to the fight.”

Simon gave her a suspicious
look over the rim of his glass, then took a sip that turned, like
all the others, into a grimace.

“
Personally,” Kate
continued in the same tone, “I don’t think I could stay here very
long. It’s too quiet.”

She let her gaze wander. The
pub felt cozy, paneled in wood with ancient sports memorabilia on
the walls and a long counter that ran almost the entire length of
the room. Kate knew the two dozen patrons by sight, and she felt
comfortable in their midst, the same way she would have amongst her
comrades from the squad. She and Simon had been in town long enough
that they weren’t observed with wary looks or undisguised curiosity
anymore, but she would always marvel at how the inhabitants of
Riverton managed to lead such easy lives, almost as though the
outside world had not been at war with beast-like
demons.

Some supplies were only
available in limited quantities, but the town managed to feed its
citizens properly by bartering with other nearby cities. Kate had
visited quite a few places, both while fighting with the squad and
after she had quit to hunt down information about Blake’s ordeal.
Nowhere else had she found such a quiet, peaceful little town. Marc
vouching for her—and paying the hefty settling fee required for
newcomers—had allowed her to stay longer than the two months
visitors were granted, but if not for Blake and Marc, she doubted
she would have remained here even that long. She was a fighter, and
as nice as Riverton was, it just wasn’t the place for
her.

“
Quiet is nice,” Simon
said, almost reproachful. “It’s much better than places where you
have to fight every night and you never know if you and your
friends will be alive in the morning. I bet I’ll enjoy staying here
a lot.”

There was a hint of newfound
loyalty in Simon’s words, all the more recognizable because Kate
had once heard it directed at her and the squad. He had not needed
to pay the settling fee; the town’s council had discovered he was a
mage and offered him a place to stay at once, if he would just
apply his magic wherever it was needed. Every day, his services
were requested to help fix some things, improve others, and every
time she saw him, he had a new story to tell about some new magic
trick he had performed.

Coming up with a spell to
repel insects or restoring the flow of water to the town’s
decorative fountain was good and fine, but Kate knew Simon—and knew
this kind of magic wouldn’t remain appealing for long.

“
Maybe you’ll enjoy it for
a while,” she agreed. “But I think you’ll miss the fight. You’ll
miss closing breaches.”