Warrior of the Ages (Warriors of the Ages) (38 page)

“As a child I didn’t even try to control myself—I had no self restraint—I spoke it as I saw it. When we were stationed in Alice Springs the doctors told my parents I had Tourette’s Syndrome. It’s a neurological problem where you can’t control random physical impulses. My Dad said they were nuts and ignored them. I was thrown out of more schools, including pre-schools, than you can imagine.”

She put her head on her knees then, and a sound escaped somewhere between sorrow and despair. “I used to spit the truth at people, like napalm. I saw so much and just had to share. The magnitude of a lie didn’t matter, I covered them all: A cheating spouse, a cheating dieter, a thieving bank teller, a hungry child in Somalia.” The sob came through clear then. “They cut off his hand…I was four and I did that to a starving child.”

“With no clan to guide you—Beth? Orphans never have it easy, you survived, that is saying something.”

“I didn’t stop spewing even then, oh it bothered me, the consequences always bothered me, but it was nothing compared to the relief of being able to shoot the little tidbits of truth out of my mouth. Do you feel pleasure when you kill?”

The question surprised him and he managed to out, “No!”

“I do—and do you know what the truth does more often than not? It kills. It kills a relationship, hopes, ambition, careers. You say you’ve killed, Kahtar? I will match you person for person with the killing I’ve done using words alone.”

“No, Beth. You mistake their sins, the consequences of their sins and claim them as your own.”

“Tell that to the child without his hand, Kahtar. He won’t believe you either. I still see his eyes. He was beautiful, perfect…. My Dad always said it was because I was gifted that I was home-schooled for high school—I think he just wanted to keep me alive. No one could hurt me one on one. But a bunch of military brats have ways of telling you to keep your big mouth shut.

“So I finished high school in two years on my own, and started at local small colleges wherever we lived. That was a riot, I ruined the careers of a few up and coming drug dealers before I discovered on-line college. Good thing we lived on military bases then—I still avoid Columbia and Mexico City. Then by the time I was ready for university I was learning some decent self control. You know I learned the truth could be politely spoken at least.

“I learned it was better to run out of the room than to say some stuff. I have two Bachelor Degrees and my Masters. I might’ve had my PhD except that my thesis told the truth. I wrote it on ‘The Inevitable Enslavement of a Capitalist Republic’. Dad never knew about that. Every time I think about it around him I almost chew my lip bloody and make myself shut up.”

Kahtar wanted so much to take her hand, just thinking of the weight of such a gift and she had endured it not even knowing who she really was, without the support of a clan that would have taught her and helped her. Beth stood up and before reaching the door she turned around, looking towards him blindly.

“So do you see, Kahtar? The sin? When I speak the truth and when I don’t...I have wrought so much damage—including bloodshed—including death—for speaking the truth.”

Not knowing what to say, he said nothing. For awhile they stayed like that, Beth standing near the doorway looking in his direction and him sitting on the bed, allowing himself the relief of touching her with his scan while her open heart pressed and beckoned to him from across the room.

Beth laughed lightly. “I’m glad I told you—I knew you thought you’d lucked into some kind of perfect woman. I enjoyed that for awhile, the idealized version of me. I wish I was her. I belong here, Kahtar, maybe not with your clan, but with you, and I know you have things you are dreading telling me. I just wanted to—level the playing field—so to speak. You know? I showed you mine now you can show me yours? Only, to be completely honest with you, the light of an Old Guard has been shimmering outside in the yard now and then and I’ve already seen yours. You really are totally gorgeous, Zeus. The Palmer men have nothing on you.”

With that she shut the bedroom door behind her.

DRESSED IN HIS khaki pants and red polo clothes early on Saturday morning, Kahtar waited as Beth trotted out of her room in a pretty, modest skirt and blouse. With flat shoes on her feet, she seemed short when she stood next to him. Sensing faint bruises beneath the surface of her skin, regret crawled up his spine.

How will this work? Will she ever be able to lie in bed next to me?

“Beth? Never shake me awake when I’m dreaming like I was last night. I’ve never been able to control it….”

“I got that, Kahtar. I’ve seen post traumatic stress before, I’m a military brat—remember?”

Post traumatic stress?
Well, it certainly fit. Running the back of his fingers down the length of her sleeve, he barely touched the fabric.

“I’m really sorry. Beth? I’d never….”

“I get it.” Interrupting, she patted his arm reassuringly. “I know you’re not an abusive man. My Dad used to have something like that when I was little. I wasn’t allowed to go in his room at night. Don’t stress, next time I’ll just sic Wolves on you.”

The thought made him smile, but she chewed her lip nervously and worried her fingernails together. Even after they climbed into the car and drove, Beth continued to fidget. Kahtar waited until she worked up the courage to tell him what was on her mind.

“Okay—so here is the deal—of course my parents don’t know I’m living with you. I justify it in my mind because it’s a different world, right? Besides we aren’t, you know, doing any pre-wedding activities they would find objectionable, right?”

Kahtar looked at her, wondering if she’d be able to pull this off. If she’d truly thought through the consequences of what could happen to her parents if she made a mistake.

Beth continued. “So they assume I am living in the shop. I am frankly freaked that they will make a reference to it and I will not lie to my parents of course.” She laughed faintly. “As if I could. It’s just if they realize where I am living, they’ll think...anyway, Kahtar, if that happens, it happens, it’s just that my Dad’s old-fashioned—”

He interrupted, “I won’t mention it, Beth. I’m pretty good at keeping things under wraps. Well, I was until I met you.”

“Yeah, Dad says I should have worked for the CIA.” She reached for the dial of the radio and then pulled her hand away, thoughtfully remembering that he wouldn’t appreciate the music. He smiled over at her.

“Traditionally I should be the one who is nervous. I’m the one who has to pass muster. Any words of advice?”

Beth smiled then, sliding her hand into his in a gesture that was already comfortable and familiar.

“Be yourself—my Dad already knows you are a cop—he’s thrilled. You will love him, he is the kindest, most wonderful man.” She tapped her heart, and Kahtar smiled.

“Your Mom?”

“Oh Mom is...actually, Kahtar? My Mom is a little reserved.”

“That’s okay, so am I.”

“There it is, turn right there. See the house with the yard art? Dad has a little too much time on his hands since he retired.”

That alone should have been a warning. When Kahtar looked back later he wondered why it hadn’t triggered at least a second thought. Covenant Keepers were minimalists by nature, even the most bored wouldn’t spend hours decorating their front yard with cut outs of bears and fake geese with clothes. He didn’t notice though, he noted the fine lines of the 1920’s home and the good sized yard. He noticed that sapling apple trees had been planted in the front yard, and that every plant in the flower bed was edible.

Beth’s Mom came around the house, she had a bowl of baby zucchini in her arms and watching through the windshield, Kahtar bit back a whistle of admiration. She was athletic and gorgeous, very like Beth but stronger. Dressed simply in blue jeans and a plain white tee, the way her clothes fit revealed powerful core muscles, and ripples of honed biceps and triceps cut beautifully through the flesh of her arms. Her pale hair was cropped quite short, a messy halo around her head and she wore no jewelry, not even a wedding band.

Kahtar felt her heart swell to see her daughter. Beth swung her car door open and stood, introducing him. Motioning at him through the open roof of the convertible, Beth said, “Mom, this is the Police Chief of Willowyth, also known as Kent Costas, and Chief, this is my Mom, Carole White.” He shot a smile up at Beth, it was the truth.

To his surprise Carole simply nodded at her daughter. Then she came shyly around the car to wait for him to unfold himself from the convertible. Carole’s eyes widened as he stood and she went very still, staring at him. Then she turned on her heel and went back around the house without even a nod in his direction.

Kahtar glanced over top the car at Beth and she shrugged. He perused the family neighborhood, kids riding bikes on the street, a guy washing his car in his driveway, a woman mowing the grass, nothing untoward. It had definitely been something about him. A man’s voice shouted a gravely greeting from the backyard. Beth squealed, “Daddy!” and apparently forgetting Kahtar, she slammed her car door shut and darted around the house.

Kahtar shut his door and ambled after her.
This cannot be anything but awkward or
…he rounded the corner of the house and Beth’s Mother stood right there, blocking the sandstone path…
dangerous
, his mind finished. Carole White leaned forward slightly and locked eyes with him.
Holy Heavens, she’s a shieldmaiden! I have not seen a shieldmaiden since…
it had been centuries.

Beth’s mother didn’t move, definitely blocking his way, and silently staring at him. Kathar’s mind ran through their one-sided introduction, what could he have possibly done to get her back up?

From around the back of the house came a huge hulking six feet six inches of man, his rumbling voice deep, he bellowed, “So you’re the reason my girl hasn’t been home all summer? I was beginning to think somebody had kidnapped her!” And then Kahtar understood Carole White. Because this man wasn’t an Orphan. He wasn’t a Covenant Keeper at all. There could be no doubt. Ted White was a Seeker. Beth’s mother had joined with a Seeker.

Beth was a child of Blending.

Kahtar’s heart almost sank to his knees. How many times in his repeats had he abandoned such men in The Mists, men who would dare…Kahtar couldn’t begin to calculate the number.

Beth clung to her father’s arm, smiling up at her Daddy proudly. Poking him in the chest she told him to behave, that there were worse things than being kidnapped by nice, handsome men. Flushing beet red, she continued to poke him right in the middle of his breastbone and she introduced Kahtar.

“This is K-Kent C-Costas.” Beth fumbled over the alias, forcing it out.

Ted grabbed her poking finger and kissed the tip of it.

“Welcome, K-Kent.” Ted stretched out a friendly hand. Carole still didn’t budge, firmly wedged between Kahtar and her family. “Hon, you gonna move so I can meet Beth’s boyfriend?” Automatically Kahtar shook Ted’s hand.

“Sir,” he managed, impressed that his voice sounded natural.

Ted said, “Sir? Don’t call me Sir! Geez my Dad was Sir. We’re an informal family. Just call me Mister General White, that’s what I prefer kidnappers to call me.”

“Daddy!” Beth laughed. Ted squeezed her in a one-armed hug.

“What, B-Beth?” he teased, holding her against his side he headed for the backyard.