Defeat the Darkness (21 page)

“In Missouri, we defend a stretch of barrier that runs
off and on through a system of limestone caves and tunnels. I got stupid and went wandering alone and ran into a bunch of…” He hesitated, not sure what to call them.

“A bunch of Others, as you call them,” Larem suggested with only a slight hint of bitterness in his voice. “They are no longer Kalith when they seek the light in your world.”

There was no pretty way to describe what had happened, so he didn't try. “They took their time and a great deal of pleasure in torturing me. They cut me to shreds.” He slapped his thigh with the palm of his hand. “I almost lost my leg. The only reason I didn't is that I died, and that took all of the fun out of it for the bastards.”

Next, his hand went to his throat of its own volition. When he spoke, it felt as if he had a mouth full of gravel. “My vocal cords were ruined from screaming.”

Larem came to an abrupt halt. He picked up a rock and threw it as hard as he could against the nearest tree, knocking a hole in the bark. “Those
bastards!
Killing an enemy in battle is one thing. There was no honor in what they did. And there's no shame in needing time to recover from what they did to you. Wounds of the soul take the longest to heal.”

Hunter stared at the Kalith warrior, whose fury on his behalf was both a surprise and a gift.

“I could use your sword, Larem.” Once again he offered his hand to his companion, but this time with a great deal more enthusiasm. “Would you like to stay at my place tonight? We can get some dinner and then stand watch. I doubt that our quarry will make another appearance so soon, but you never know.”

“I will tell Barak and the others that I won't be returning with them tonight.” This time his smile seemed more genuine. “I brought a pack with me, just in case.”

Up ahead, D.J. was pacing restlessly just inside the tree line. Barak and Lonzo ignored him, no doubt familiar with the Paladin's high energy.

“Took you two long enough.”

Hunter decided to yank D.J.'s chain a bit. “What's the matter, D.J.? Don't tell me you're jealous.”

Larem let out a bark of laughter. “I didn't know you cared so much, D.J. Maybe I should be flattered, but I'm truly not.”

All three men were now staring at Larem and Hunter as if they'd sprouted polka dots and horns. Hunter couldn't blame them. He was a little surprised by how things were playing out himself.

“Larem has offered to stay and stand guard with me tonight. Maybe two of you can relieve us tomorrow night.”

Lonzo studied Hunter and Larem for several seconds. Whatever he saw had him nodding. “Fair enough. One of us will return with Barak late tomorrow. But if the barrier decides it's time for us to dance, it may be Penn who comes. Hope that's okay.”

It would have to be. “Sure.” Especially since the wounded Paladin would be standing guard with Barak, not Hunter.

“Okay, then, the rest of us will head back to Seattle. We'll let Devlin know what's up.”

Back at the SUV, Larem pulled out his pack as the others piled in. Waving good-bye, the three men drove away.

When they were completely out of sight, Hunter looked at his guest. “Let's drop your stuff off in the apartment, then head into town for dinner. What sounds good?”

“Did I mention that I'm a vegetarian?”

Hunter pretended a disgust he really didn't feel as he unlocked his door. “Well, that leaves out the steak house. How about Japanese then?”

“I'll trust your judgment.” Larem tossed his bag on the floor.

“Considering my luck, that might be a mistake.” Hunter glanced outside. “One more side effect I've yet to get past is that I need to be outside at night, or you'll see more of what you saw earlier.”

“No big deal.” Larem shrugged with a smile. “One of my favorite things about your world is takeout.”

T
ate paced back and forth, working herself up into a fine temper. She made the turn again and came to an abrupt halt. Who was she mad at here?

Definitely D.J. and company for upsetting Hunter. It was clear that he'd had another flashback of when he'd been hurt, but it was unclear what about Barak and Larem had set him off. If they really were his enemies, then why did D.J. bring them to visit? Besides, he'd obviously made peace with them once he'd gotten himself under control.

So, how upset was she with Hunter and why? Finally, she decided she was pretty darned mad, but not because he'd attacked Larem. It was obvious that he had no control over his flashbacks.

No, now that she thought about it, her anger stemmed from his treatment of her afterward, when he'd gone back to being all buddy-buddy with his posse. She hadn't expected him to introduce her as if they were
a couple; their relationship was too new for that. She wouldn't have been any more comfortable with it than he would have, although Barak
had
made that reference to her defending her man. All Tate knew was that she'd neither said nor done anything to give Hunter the impression that she had any expectations.

But was civility too much to ask for? No, it wasn't. Did Hunter think she was going to curl up on his lap and toy with his hair while his friends were there? Pout when he didn't spend every second catering to her every whim?

Was she overreacting? Yes. Well, maybe. No, not completely. There'd been a definite chill in the air when she'd come into the shop to reassure herself that he'd been all right. Granted, some men didn't want to appear weak in front of their buddies. Was that his problem? God, she hoped not. She had little sympathy for that attitude, especially since she'd never given him any reason to think she'd embarrass him.

She walked down the steps and looked around. The SUV was right where they'd left it, so the four men were still in the area. Deciding it was none of her business where they'd gone or what they were up to, she started walking to the Auntie Ms house. One of the twins would've called her if Mabel had taken a turn for the worse, but she'd promised to check in on them. Besides, she badly needed something to do.

Madge saw her coming and met her at the door. “Come in, dear.”

“Thanks, Madge. I wanted to see how Mabel was feeling.”

“She's still in bed and fussing about it. That usually means she's on the mend.”

Madge's eyes twinkled with good humor. It was good to see that the worry was gone from the twin's expression.

“I won't stay long if it will tire her out.”

“Actually, the company will do her good. She gets pretty dizzy if she sits up too long, and she can't read either. You know my sister. She's not happy if she's not busy.”

A querulous voice called out from the next room. “Tate, is that you?”

Madge and Tate exchanged a conspiratorial smile. “I'm coming, Mabel.”

The light was dim in the older woman's bedroom, and she looked frail lying there in bed. When Mabel struggled to sit up, Tate hurried to help her. She tucked two extra pillows behind Mabel for support.

“Thank you, dear. I don't mean to be a bother.”

Tate patted her on the arm. “You're never a bother. Besides, what are friends for?”

Mabel kept her eyes closed while she moved, probably hoping to hold off the waves of dizziness from her infection. But at Tate's admittedly rhetorical question, they popped wide open and looked at her with hope.

“Would you have time to read to me for a few minutes? I tried to get Margaret to, but she doesn't care for my taste in books.”

No surprise there. The twins preferred thrillers and mysteries, while Mabel was a huge fan of romances of all kinds. Lately, she'd been reading paranormals and Westerns.

“Sure, I'd be glad to. I closed the shop early. Everybody must be out enjoying the sunshine.” Usually she
would've used the time to write, but she couldn't concentrate while she wondered and worried about Hunter and company.

There was an untidy stack of books sitting on the bedside table. Tate picked up the top one and pulled a chair over to sit beside the bed. Opening to the bookmark, she started to read aloud. Mabel settled back against her pillows with her eyes closed and a smile on her face.

For the first few pages, everything went smoothly. It didn't matter to Tate that she had no idea what was going on in the story. The writer was one of her favorites, and it was easy to lose herself in the flow of words and imagery. The Western had all her favorite elements: a sheriff trying to come to peace with his past, a feisty heroine, and a real bad guy, not at all like the handsome gunslinger in her own story.

Maybe she should ask Mabel to read her manuscript. She trusted her friend to be fair and honest. What would she think about the gunslinger? Tate suspected that Mabel would root for the unpredictable, compelling gunslinger over the boring lawman. Tate smiled, wishing she could've known her elderly friend when she'd been young and in love with her warrior husband.

“Tate? Are you all right?”

“What? I'm fine.” Then she realized that as she thought about her own book, she'd stopped reading.

“I'm sorry, Mabel. I got distracted.”

But her friend's eyes narrowed and then came into sharp focus. “Okay, what's that young man done now?”

“What young man?” Tate asked, but they both knew she was just buying time.

“Hunter Fitzsimon, unless you have more than one handsome man staying with you.”

“He's not staying with me!” Tate protested, although she could feel her face heating up.

It wasn't a lie, after all. He was renting her apartment, not living with her. The one time they'd crossed the line between tenant and landlord, they'd been in his place, not hers.

“You know what I meant. Now what has you upset?”

The temptation to confess it all to Mabel was riding her hard. Even if Sandra had stuck around, she was the last person Tate would trust to help her with matters of the heart. Mabel, on the other hand, was the perfect mix of pragmatic and romantic to understand what was going on in Tate's head.

But not now. Perhaps tomorrow, if Mabel was feeling more like her old self.

“Hunter's fine. He's out with some friends.” Tate made a show of checking to see where she'd left off reading.

“You're upset with him.”

It wasn't a question, but Tate answered anyway. “He confuses me.”

“And that's a bad thing? It takes longer than a few days to get to know anybody very well. Throw in a bunch of hormones, and things get even more complicated.”

“It's not like that, Mabel.” At least not anymore from the way he was acting.

“Now, young lady, which one of us are you trying to convince with that bunch of malarkey? You've been acting different since the moment you laid eyes on him. Not only that, but he's been looking back.”

He'd
done a lot more than just look at her, but Tate wasn't about to admit that to a bedridden elderly woman.

It wouldn't hurt to share a bit, though. “I've never met anyone like Hunter before. He's never said what he does for a living or how long he plans to stay. That same man who came by before is back, with three more just like him.”

“Do you think they are brothers or cousins?”

Tate stared at the book in her lap, as if the answers to all of her questions would magically appear on the printed page.

“No, they're not related, at least not all of them,” she added, thinking of Barak and Larem. “There's just a sameness about them, like they've all had the same training or played the same sport or something.”

Mabel nodded, as if Tate had confirmed her suspicions about Hunter. “I haven't seen these other gentlemen, but I would guess what you're sensing is that they've served together.”

“You mean in the military?”

She thought about that horrible injury to Hunter's leg. Had he been hurt in the war? Her heart hurt over the prospect. It would also would explain the two episodes of sudden violence. Post-traumatic stress disorder had been in the headlines recently. Hadn't outbursts of anger been one of the common symptoms?

Mabel was speaking again. “The military is definitely a possibility, but it could've been some kind of police work or homeland security or even a fire department,” Mabel said. “All of those careers tend to have similar effects on those involved.” Her smile was wistful. “My Tommy and his friends were like that, too. Even though
they were all different sizes and shapes, their experiences made them seem alike.”

Tate pictured the five men who'd taken up so much space in her shop earlier and had to agree with Mabel's assessment. Despite their varied looks, they all had the same intense awareness of their surroundings, as if poised for battle.

But enough about them. Mabel was looking tired. Maybe if Tate read a few more pages, Mabel would drift off to sleep again. She held the book up and began reading, only to realize that the author was building up to a major love scene. She'd yet to write one of those in her Western and was unsure how she'd do. However, surely it would be no more awkward than reading one aloud to her gray-haired friend.

When Tate stumbled over a particularly vivid description, Mabel giggled, sounding more like a teenager than a senior citizen.

“Don't tell me you're a prude, Tate!”

“I'm not.” Hunter could attest to that, but she kept the thought to herself. “It's only that I've never read something like this aloud before.”

“Well, you're doing fine. Keep going.” So much for hoping that Mabel would get sleepy soon.

Tate launched right back into the story, doing her best to read with greater enthusiasm for the sake of her audience. She noticed that someone had also muted the television in the next room. It was too much to hope that the twins weren't listening.

Oh, well. She brazened her way through the next couple of pages. By the time the hero and heroine had
exhausted themselves with some incredibly acrobatic maneuvers, Tate was ready for a long nap herself. She closed the book and stood up.