Daybreak (13 page)
“You must have questions.”
“Obviously. How did you know I was coming?”
Zhara smiled. “I read runes. Bones, too, if the situation demands. Augury isn’t an exact art, but sometimes the information can be truly useful.”
“How specific is it?” Pen warmed to the discussion, making Tru think she would be happy talking to the other woman for the duration of the journey.
He moved off and took a defensive position at the rail. It made no sense for strangers to wait until they boarded before attacking, but sometimes people behaved in incomprehensible ways. He felt no surprise when Adrian joined him. The kid would become a permanent shadow if Tru allowed it. He should do more to discourage the attachment.
But Adrian wore such an eager puppy expression. Tru couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“Can you believe it?” Awe filled his voice, which cracked in that awkward adolescent way. He gestured at the wide-open ocean around them. Blue-green waves lifted and fell as the wind pushed the boat along.
“What, in particular?”
“All of this. I didn’t even know people could
do
this.”
do
this.”
He doesn’t remember anything.
But Tru did. Once, people had flown. If Tru said so, Adrian would probably ask what spell had permitted that to happen. This boy remembered only the Changed world, but Tru was a child of both. Sometimes he felt the weight of that most awfully. Maybe it was suitable that he was twin-souled as well, man and lion, both unable to fi nd where they fit. Years ago, he’d thought he’d found such a place, but it had been as temporary as a dream.
“The boat you mean?” he asked, realizing Adrian awaited a response.
“Yeah. I didn’t even ride in a vehicle until I was fourteen.”
“Was that when you were taken?”
The kid gave a jerky nod. Some wounds didn’t bear exploration. If Adrian wanted to talk, he wasn’t likely to be shy about it. Tension slid out of him, maybe when he realized Tru didn’t intend to poke. He relaxed more as he asked questions about things he saw swimming in the water. Tru answered as best he could.
“Can you read?” he asked.
Adrian shook his head. “There was no call for it on the farm. Since then . . .” His voice trailed off.
Yeah, whatever he’d been doing hadn’t required books. Tru’s stomach churned. He’d love to kill whoever had tormented this young man. Not a clean death either. He’d go lion and play with the bastard for a while. The mental picture cheered him up.
“What’s so funny?” Adrian asked.
“I’m picturing what it would be like to maul the guys who stole you.”
A smile built in the kid’s eyes and spread to his mouth. “You’d do it, wouldn’t you?”
“Hell, yes.”
“I never had that before. Somebody to fight for me. Even my dad . . .” Adrian shrugged. “He was pretty worn down, I guess. Tired.”
“It can be a struggle.”
Tru said the words, but he felt like puking over the side of the boat. Not from seasickness. Parents should look after their children. Protect them, no matter what. He had reasons for believing so strongly—only a few of which related to his own less-than-stellar childhood. But he wouldn’t share with Adrian. Some failures were too private to speak aloud.
“You seem like you’ve known the Orchid for a long time.” Maybe the kid had sensed it was time to back off the personal shit. He seemed to have a natural gift for knowing when to shut up and stay put. Invaluable survival skills.
“Long enough,” he admitted. “Why do they call her that, anyway?”
That was something he’d never ask Pen. Not in a million years. It highlighted the difference between them too greatly, and he didn’t want her to be a saint or a symbol of hope. He only wanted her in his arms, writhing and screaming his name. And the strength of that desire scared the hell out of him.
Adrian went somber, as if he was about to relate a religious parable. “The way I heard it, she was defending a kid from O’Malley raiders, just put herself in between him and danger. Before she could smite the bastard, he cut her. She killed him, but her blood spilled onto the ground, and wherever it touched the soil, an orchid grew, pale and red-veined. Sheer magic.” The boy spoke the last word with profound reverence.
It was an amazing story—and Tru had seen enough of Penelope’s gifts to believe it might hold some grain of truth. “Thanks for telling me.”
As she never would.
“There are more stories, if you want to hear them. Miracles she’s performed. People brought back from the brink of death.”
“Not just now, I think.” They’d only make him feel more inadequate.
“So what do you think the camp will be like?”
“I have no idea. But I hope it’s civilized. I need a bath so bad I can’t stand myself.”
Adrian laughed. “Me too.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything.”
The kid punched him in the arm and then looked horrified. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” Tru said softly.
“Seriously?”
“I promise I’ll never hurt you. And I won’t let anybody else, as long as I’m around.”
“But you won’t always be.”
“I’ll teach you to protect yourself. I haven’t forgotten what I said before we jacked that truck.”
Adrian offered a smile full of bright teeth. His dark eyes sparked with excitement. “Yeah, you did say you’d show me some stuff.”
“And I will. We haven’t had a chance with all the traveling, but there should be opportunity in camp.”
“Thanks, Tru.” The boy hesitated, staring out over the rail at the blazing sky. The late-afternoon sun was sinking into the horizon over a ladder of gold. “You know, if I
had
a brother, I’d want him to be like you.”
had
a brother, I’d want him to be like you.”
Oh, kid
.
You wouldn’t say that if you knew me.
.
You wouldn’t say that if you knew me.
THIRTEEN
An hour into the voyage, they lost sight of the coast.
Much later, they tethered the sailboat to a small dock on the far side of a sandy island. Pen stepped onto dry land and swayed. Plenty of distance from the prying eyes of O’Malley’s thugs. Dozens of huts clustered in the island’s interior reminded her of long-ago photos of Plains Indian settlements. Only, these were made of often-patched white canvas, shaped into low square blocks no bigger than two meters square. She hadn’t seen smoke from fires when approaching the camp, but now the trails of silvery gray reached skyward.
She stepped closer to the settlement, and her senses exploded.
Magic.
So much magic.
Her knees gave way. Tru and Adrian each grabbed an arm, and she sank against Tru’s easy strength. He didn’t appear as solid as he was, all lean muscle and quick grace. The breath wouldn’t stay in her lungs. Each sense pinged out until only sight remained.
She was lying on the ground. No, on the dock. Tru’s concerned face obscured her view of the sky at dusk. Pale blue eyes against a much darker blue vista.
But then she was floating. Tru held her. His voice punched through the strange cotton that muffled sound. He was angry, shouting at Zhara, whose eyes had widened so that her irises were looped with white.
Magic.
Everywhere.
She felt the old impulse to teleport. Panic grabbed the base of her neck and twisted. The press of her ribs against Tru’s implacable hold faded and softened. Some dark and deadly threat pressed up from her sternum. It bubbled inside her veins, seeping out of her skin. If she lost control in this place . . .
But Tru still held her. The memory of his kiss grounded her. Kept her solid and sane and
there
, snuggled in his arms. Their bodies had made promises she intended to honor. For him, yes. But for her, too.
there
, snuggled in his arms. Their bodies had made promises she intended to honor. For him, yes. But for her, too.
Sensation returned to her skin. Words made sense again.
“Someplace indoors where she can lie down,” Tru said.
“Now
.
”
“Now
.
”
She tried to reach for his face, to ease the tension that tightened the tendons of his neck and deepened his frown lines. But her limbs were leaden. She could only let her forehead fall against his chest. When was the last time she’d given herself so completely to another’s care? Not once since going out on her own.
In the Changed world, placing trust in others was almost as frightening as a night full of monsters.
“Come on, Pen.”
He’s never called me that before.
Always, it was Penelope with a beautiful curl of his lip. “Stay with me. Eyes open, baby.”
He’s never called me that before.
Always, it was Penelope with a beautiful curl of his lip. “Stay with me. Eyes open, baby.”
“I’m here,” she whispered.
Eyes the color of an icy lake filled with a concern she’d never seen from Tru. But then he vanished and she saw only black.
She awoke in a squat hut filled with the soft glow of a single candle. Still wearing the same clothes. Still fighting that head-melting buzz of magic. But the dissonance had faded. She could make sense of individual auras, rather than drowning in a heavy wash of so many powers.
Tru sat on the floor, his back propped against her cot. After such a day, any other man would’ve used the moment of solitude to grab a quick nap. He kept his eye on the exit, a flap tied shut with rope. His rifle lay across his knees. Adrian was curled into a crescent shape in the far corner.
“Keeping watch,” she said softly. The words scratched out of her throat. Every joint felt rusty.
He turned slowly, with no sign of surprise, as if he’d already known she was awake. Maybe he had. “I probably deserve that you sound surprised. But I’m not a complete bastard.”
The backs of her eyelids felt lined with sandpaper. She blinked a few times, then tried to sit up. Tru met her by the side of the cot, preventing the movement.
“Tru, I’m fine.”
“Don’t fight me on this. You didn’t see your face.”
She made an exasperated sound, then relaxed beneath the pressure of his palms. “I just . . . I’ve never encountered so much magic. There are a
lot
of skinwalkers here. And people like me. It was overwhelming.”
lot
of skinwalkers here. And people like me. It was overwhelming.”
“No shit.” He shoved his fingers through his hair, which made it stick up in odd places. Sand still clung to the skin along his cheek and forehead.
Pen took his terseness for anxiety. But she knew better than to call him on it or thank him for his care. If she’d learned anything about Tru—years ago, and now—it was that he didn’t like to acknowledge the guts that bled beneath the surface. His unspoken concern would be enough. Safer that way.
Knowing he’d soon be gone did nothing to urge Pen to open up. Knowing he’d be disgusted by what he found inside her offered an equal deterrent.
“What’s your lay of the place?” she asked, hoping for a businesslike demeanor.
Tru flashed her a quick, assessing look. Then he nodded, accepting her topic change. She wanted distance from the moment when her panic had dissolved simply because he held her.
“About two hundred people. Family units. Little kids and old people, even.” He squinted, staring at some middle distance. “I’ve been everywhere, Pen. But I haven’t seen this many people in one place since . . .”
“Since before.”
“It’s almost claustrophobic.”
Pen traced his profile with her gaze. Long lashes angled downward and shaded whatever he hid in his eyes. To be among this many people all of a sudden had to be as overwhelming for him as the magic had been for her. Conventions and conversations, rules and responsibilities.
It was a wonder he was still there at all.
“What about their fortifications?”
“Solid,” Tru said gruffly. “Only one harbor. There are gun batteries set up on towers, and the rest of the beaches are reinforced. I’d be surprised if there are many access points.”
“You sound impressed.”
He shrugged, then checked his rifle. She’d bet anything that he’d already done the same inspection a dozen times. Mason hadn’t raised no fool.
“It’s easy to be impressed by things I can’t do.”
Before Pen could follow up, footsteps sounded outside the shelter. “Penelope? It’s Zhara. Arturi would like to speak with you, if you’re feeling up to it.”
“Then let him come see her,” Tru called back.
Pen put a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Just stay with me, yes?”
His eyes dropped, looking at where her fingers curved against his flesh. “We have a deal.”
She should’ve bristled at that blunt reminder, but she wanted it, too. Camp meant getting clean and fed, and maybe even privacy. She could hardly breathe for the possibilities. But the other change was his tone of voice. He no longer seemed to be taunting. More like . . . promising.
She shook the thoughts out of her head. Not only did she have business to attend, but she would be an idiot to believe this lion intended to stay caged. He’d run free soon enough. All she hoped was that it was sooner rather than later. She already relied on him more than she should. The voices that had called to her for years simply faded into the background when Tru was near.
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