The Second Coming (22 page)

John made
introductions and Rosa patted Meega's head. “Look at the little
angel. I have something special for a girl so sweet.” From under
the counter she pulled out a plate with a small serving of cake.
Meega practically swallowed it whole. Within moments John's brother
and sister-in-law brought out mounds of food. John savored every
bite, from the cod dish to the goat stew.

How he missed
this. How he missed her. If only she had chosen him.

He looked at
the two of them and sighed. He did not begrudge his brother her
love, only wondered at what might have been.

When they
finished eating, and a small glass of port sat in front of each of
them, Manuel leaned back in his chair.

“
So tell me what brings you here. It has been years since we
saw you last.”

John tossed
back the contents of the glass and it warmed his gullet. “We are
making for the Confederation.”

His brother
straightened in the chair. “You've lost your mind! Don't tell me
you flee like the others. So many washed up on shore. Only the
Baron's Guild can provide safe passage, but their price is
high.”

He smiled. “I
will take one of the Guild’s ships. And I do not flee, I
chase.”

Rosa sipped at
the port. “Who do you chase?”

Miguel pushed
his glass away and leaned in to whisper. “The Beast.”

Both Rosa and
Manuel laughed, yet cast a nervous glance towards Miguel.

Manuel rose
from the table. “What do you mean you chase the Beast?”

John sighed.
“The Pope has sent me to search him out.”

Rosa tossed
back the port, her small hands trembling. “And you expect to find
him in the Confederation? The Baron's Guild says the Hunters are
dangerous.”

“
I have heard of these Witch Hunters. Perhaps the one I search
for is among the Confederation.”

Rosa eyed
Meega, and her eyes gave John a stern look, a look he once
loved.

“
You can leave her with us if you want. The Confederation is
no place for a little girl.”

John studied
Meega.

I would miss you, Little One
.

“
Meega, would you like to remain here with Manuel and Rosa
while I take a trip? I will try to come back for you.”

Meega leapt
from the chair and put her arms around John's leg, clinging so
tight his toes prickled. He smiled inwardly, yet still worried for
her safety.

“
I guess she is coming with us.”

Miguel slammed
his glass on the table, giving John a look of the devil’s
anger.

Manuel took
the glass. “There is a galleon moored in the docks, the Lady Misia.
It is leaving shortly. Go and speak with the captain, a man named
Baron Jorge. Tell him I asked him to give you safe passage to the
Confederation. He owes me a favor. He will take good care of you.
But you should leave now.”

John rose.
“Thank you. I‘m sorry I cannot stay longer.”

Rosa hugged
Meega and the two friars in turn. “Come back to us, John.”

Is this the
last time I will set eyes upon your face, my Rosa?

“
I will, if I can.”

The three
walked out the door and down to the docks.

Paine rose
from his makeshift bed and took a whiff of his clothing. He’d
soiled himself while asleep.

He didn’t
care.

He’d roll
around in his own shit if he wanted to.

His head still
hurt, less than before, but his heart — how it wrenched.

Lya.

The bandage was still wrapped about his skull, and tight. No
one seemed to notice that he was up so he decided to change
clothes. He checked the sidepacks on Shadow, looking for something
to wear. They were crooked, as if someone had been rummaging
through them. He grabbed some fresh clothes, or at least fresher
than what he wore, and examined Sable. Her sidepacks were disturbed
as well. Fortunately the grimoire was still there. Underneath it
was a shard of mirror, splattered lightly with drops of
brown.

He checked his
pocket. His fingers found the parchment. Fortunately, it was not
sullied.

Paine slipped
out of his clothes and wiped himself down with his shirt. He’d need
a stream and some soap. He couldn’t ride around smelling like
this.

He stroked
Shadow for a time, lost in what happened in the Westwood. He closed
his eyes, trying to sense another presence within him, but found
nothing. Whatever he had summoned had left him untouched once more.
It made him uncomfortable, like he owed some debt he could not pay;
one that would be remunerated in vast amounts of blood.

And then there
was the lingering question of the deal that was made with the
Westwood. He fisted his hands.

That woman
would pay.

Puck
approached, running his hands along Shadow’s flanks. “You… up,” he
said.

Paine gave the
saddle strap a tug and Shadow grunted. He noticed the bags under
Puck’s eyes. “You look tired.”

“
No sleep … well,” he muttered. His speech was languid. “You
stink,” he said, plugging his nose.

“
Come, Puck,” interrupted Truitt. He shoved the young man,
giving him little time to get his footing. Puck stumbled and
fell.

Truitt glanced
at Paine as if daring him to confront him. Paine lowered his head,
yet his blood simmered. He felt unable to challenge him, and hated
himself for his cowardice.

Puck recovered
and ran off before Truitt could get to him a second time.

Great Bear
strode past and nodded to Paine. He led a horse upon which the
Witch Hunter rode. Her arms were bound with rope and she sat upon
her steed with a deadpan look. The silver collar around her neck
was dull and tarnished, reflecting little of the morning sun, yet
she still bore her uniform in which the pearly white cross shone.
She looked at Paine for a brief moment. Then her face contorted and
she turned away as Great Bear led her forward.

Paine closed
his eyes. His heart ached.

She should have been killed
.

And Paine knew
that he would have to find a way to take care of that himself.

He climbed
aboard Shadow and the horse snorted at his rough mount.

The small
troop traveled the valleys of the upper Outlands, eventually
skirting the northern coast of Lake Nanabijou with its namesake's
Island of the Sleeping Giant. Paine's nights were spent huddled
with Fang. She never left his side. It helped lessen the suffering.
The wolf would often cast a glance in the direction of the Hunter,
and Paine wished once again, he could speak with animals. That made
him think of his sister.

Lya.

A touch of
guilt flitted through his mind. He didn’t feel he’d apologized for
what had happened in the Westwood. But then, had she ever
apologized to him? She’d used him repeatedly over the years.

As he rode,
alone and behind the others, Paine pulled the note out of his
pocket, examining the flowing lines of the script and wondering
what his parents might have known. He struggled to call forth
whatever he had used at the tablet in an attempt to decipher it,
but it failed him. He caught the Hunter staring at him as he pored
over the parchment. He then folded it and placed it back in his
pocket.

Why had she
been tracking them for so long?

The woman had
been relentless. How had she followed them through Lindhome and the
Westwood? He felt sick with rage — he’d lost his parents and his
sister to this woman.

Was she the
one who made the deal with the Westwood? And if so, why? What did
she stand to gain?

He shook his head.
Too many
questions.

He knew one
thing. She would pay.

Dearly.

The days
passed without event, a routine of travel, food and sleep. Finally,
after the fourth of such, they came upon the Haudenosaunee village.
Paine stared at the palisade that surrounded it. He sensed some
form of spell weaved into its making, but knew he would be hard
pressed to find it. He wondered if Lya could do it.

She would
sacrifice almost anything to learn how.

He grunted at
the tugging of his heart and urged Shadow forward.

They
approached the massive gates. The place was deserted. Row upon row
of long wooden houses lay in isolation.

Great Bear
sighed behind him. “I can feel the presence of my people even now.
I never thought to see it so bare, but I feel at home still.” The
large man left him to stroll into the village, as if discovering it
anew. He tied the Hunter’s horse to the village gates.

Paine wandered
off on his own, searching out the Iroquois village with Fang at his
side. He peered into one of the longhouses, taking in the smell of
sage that lingered.

“
Paine!”

He turned as
Truitt rode up to him. “We're leaving.”

“
But we just got here.”

“
There are strange tracks here, hoof marks that are far too
numerous. They head south toward Haven.”

Hoof marks?
Did an army of Witch Hunters precede them?

Paine caught
the Witch Hunter glancing in his direction. Her eyes shifted and
she turned her head from his gaze.

Did she know
something about this?

Paine shook
his head. It couldn’t be. He mounted Shadow and followed the
others, leaving the village lifeless once more.

They rode well
into the night, some of the men and women hoisting torches to light
the way. A small clearing offered them a place to rest, but it
reeked of skunk. Before Paine knew it, they rode again. The journey
continued into the following day, and Paine was exhausted. He ate
in his saddle, almost slept in the saddle, and practically wet
himself in the saddle. He was thankful for the nightly stops.

Two further
days passed, and with legs aching he lay awake feeling every chafe
and cramped muscle. Their arrival in Haven was expected on the
morrow and they would be departing within hours.

What he wouldn’t give to be at an inn
, he thought —
perhaps with
Diarmuid
.

Gazing at the
pinpricks that shone through the blanket of night, Paine listened
as the earth slept. Other than Great Bear's snoring, the night was
still as the old cemetery back in Fairfax. He rolled over to look
at Fang. The wolf stared into the forest, ears pricked. A faint
growl emerged from her throat.

Paine followed
her gaze into the forest, straining to see into the darkness. At
first he saw nothing, but then two eyes appeared in the trees. He
barely made out the form emerging from the shadows, stooped over on
two legs with claws that scored the ground. Matted hair covered its
legs down to its cloven feet, and the elongated ram’s horns on its
head were silhouetted by the moon. Paine stared, unsure of what to
do. He opened his mouth to yell out, but choked on his voice.
Something else inched its way up his gullet. He gulped it down,
feeling like it was about to spew from his mouth.

The creature leaned forward and whispered in an ugly tongue
that could barely be discerned. Paine caught only one word from it
and it escaped the creatures thick, twisted tongue with a sigh.
“…waaaaiting….” It almost bleated like a lamb.

Fang's growling elevated, loud enough to stir some of the
bodies next to him. Paine turned at a rustling behind him. Truitt
held aloft a torch with a towering flame. It lit the clearing and
Paine shielded his eyes. He turned back to the forest.

The creature
was gone.

“
What's going on?” Truitt asked.

Paine
swallowed the bile and whatever else had risen in his throat.

“
There was something at the edge of the camp, with hooves. It
had yellow eyes.”

Great Bear
walked over to the edge of the clearing, hands gripping his massive
war club. He searched the place where the creature had stood.
“Truitt, I need more light over here.”

Paine rose to
find two large prints, twice the size of Shadow's, burned into the
earth. Fang sniffed at the prints and growled. She looked off into
the forest, and then settled herself on Paine’s blanket.

Great Bear
peered into the dark. “I don't think any of us are going to get any
sleep now. We just as well pack up and move on.”

The flame on
the torch diminished. Truitt nodded. “I agree. I don't like the
feel of this.”

Paine found
Puck on the other side of the clearing, close to where the Hunter
lay bound and gagged. The young man retched in the shrubs.

Paine ran over
to him. “Are you all right?”

Puck wiped his
mouth with a rag from his pocket, trembling. “That was … demon. I
remember. They take … my village. Only I live.”

Demon?

Paine shook
off the nauseated sensation that swept over him.

“
Come on, we're leaving. You'll be safe in Haven,” he said,
trying not only to reassure his friend.

The wind
rustled through the trees. The smell of burnt earth was thick on
the air.

Puck gave him
a blank look. “I hope … you right.”

***

Fang ran. She
kept pace with the horses, twisting through the forest road as they
sped through the night. The encounter with the demon had lit a fire
inside her.

She alerted
the others in time, but it was not she that had scared the demon
off. It was not the man with the blood of the Obek running through
his veins, or the Lastborn either. Fang knew now, more than ever,
her purpose.

She slowed
with the horses.

Trouble was
thick and pungent on the air, as was the heavy scent of ash and
burned wood. And something else.