Wintermore (Aeon of Light Book 1) (3 page)

“Shut up, not now,” Deet says as he lifts Preta into his arms and holds her in tight. “It’s all right, Sister, you’ll be all right, just wake up.”

Preta’s body twitches. She mumbles, “
Wha-ligh-wom-boy-light-no
—”

Deet rocks Preta in his arms. “I got you, we’ll get you home.”

Yaz moves in closer and strokes Preta’s hair. “Don’t worry, Sis, you’re safe. I nailed that bitch good and dead.”

“Hey!” a woman says as she makes her way through the wheat field. “You two, you two over there.”

“Who’s that?” Yaz says, squinting through the muted light and toward a mound in the field.

Deet drops to a knee and gently places Preta in the tall grass. “Get your guard up, it could be another one like the woman who killed the boy.” Deet unsheathes his sword.

Yaz draws the bow string and aims the arrow tip toward the woman’s chest. “That’s far enough.”

The moon’s reflection reveals an old woman with tired but aware eyes, well into her late sixties. Her grey tattered dress matches her long matted hair. Slightly plump, though not far from the average, she carries herself with pride and a grandmotherly way.

“I mean you no harm,” the woman says, “you have no need for your weapons.”

Deet points his sword at the woman. “Who are you—state your business?”

The woman points to a hill off in the distance. “I saw a bright light come from the trees.” She eyes Yaz and then points at Preta lying on the ground. “The girl, how is she? Is something wrong with her?”

“We don’t know yet,” Yaz says.

“What happened to her?”

“The light you saw, it hit her and knocked her out.”

Deet glares at Yaz. “Shut up.”

Puzzled, the old woman cocks her head to the side, and her eyes narrow. She takes two steps toward Preta. “The light you say?”

Yaz rocks his bow up and down. “Enough! That’s far enough, old woman. I already put two in a woman tonight. I’ve got no problem doing it again. Don’t test me.”

The old woman rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t test you,
boy.
But really, I mean you no harm.”

Yaz sneers and steps forward. “I’m no boy—old woman.”

“Yaz Penter, if you’re no boy, then I’m no old woman.”

“How do you know Yaz’s name?” Deet says. “Who are you?”

“Boys, am I so hard to remember? I live in the valley.” The woman points at a small village in the distance, it’s glowing torches pierce through the black. “People call me Agna. Now I need to see about the girl’s condition. And if you’re so afraid of an old frail woman, then keep your weapons on me,
boys
.” Agna gives a smirk and a wink to Yaz.

“
Agna
?” Deet says. “Agna Roe who lives by Selerd Creek?”

“Yes, Deet Penter.”

Deet lowers his weapon and motions for Yaz to do the same.

Agna and Deet slowly move toward Preta.

Agna bends over and gently places her hand on Preta’s shoulder.

Unconscious, Preta breathes normal, and her lips return to a shade of rose.

“Now, dear, let me see here.” Agna lifts Preta onto her side and pulls down her sweater top. Running her fingers along Preta’s neck, Agna circles singed skin and black markings at the base of Preta’s neck. “
Hmm
—interesting.”

Deet crouches and sticks his head forward to get a better view. “Interesting what? What do you see?”

Yaz cranes his head around Deet, stretching his neck and chin out like a goose. “What is it?”

A small, hollow, black circle composed of six dashed lines is etched into Preta’s skin. The sixth dash is raised above the rest, breaking the circle from being complete.

“Is that from the light?” Deet says. “She didn’t have that mark the last time I saw her back.”

Agna looks up at Deet and Yaz. “Where exactly did the light come from? Did either of you see it?”

Yaz points toward the forest where Preta exited. “A boy and a woman—both dead in the clearing.”

“Both dead? Who were they, do you know?”

“I never saw them before,” Deet says. “Though the woman killed the boy before Yaz took her out.” Deet clicks open a silver pocket watch, checks the time, and nods. He snaps it shut and eyes the forest. “Yaz, stay here and keep an eye over Preta and Agna. I’m gonna check out the clearing and get a closer look at the boy and the woman.” With sword in one hand and torch in the other, Deet pushes aside the tall grass and steps toward the forest.

“I’m coming too,” Agna says.

“The hell you are—it’s not safe.”

“Shut it, Deet Penter. You don’t order me around, and I’m coming.”

Deet shakes his head in disgust and mumbles under his breath.

They move into the thick pine trees and toward the clearing.

“Over this way,” Deet says, ducking under a whip-like branch.

Both move with care through the dark, stepping over slippery roots and sweeping aside branches and vines.

As they reach the clearing, Deet extends the torch toward the dead woman. His eyes lock onto the woman’s blonde hair attached to her lifeless body.

“Stay here,” Deet says to Agna.

Deet circles the area, waving the torch, scanning for any danger or clues. “
Huh
. Where’s the boy’s body? It’s gone. I could have sworn—I thought—right here—he was here.” Deet points at the ground with conviction as he walks in a circle.

Agna steps away from the tree and moves closer to join the investigation. “I thought you said there was a boy.”

Deet ignores Agna and continues his search. He expands his investigation beyond the clearing, searching for any traces of the boy. Deet tracks the boy’s footsteps to the clearing and to the spot where he fell. “Right here, everything points to this spot, but his body’s gone. I’m sure he’s dead; I saw him fall.”

In frustration, Agna waves her hands in front of Deet. “Where’s the boy?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. There’s no signs of blood except here.” Deet points to the ground where the boy fell. “This is where I saw him last.”

Again, Deet scans the clearing. His eyes lock onto the dead woman.

“Let’s go,” Agna says, “your sister needs attention.”

Deet ignores Agna and kneels next to the dead woman.

“Didn’t you hear me? We need to get back, Deet Penter.”

“
Shhh
—
wait
!”

“
Humph
!” Agna’s head twitches, and she moves in closer to him, peering over his shoulder. “We need not be here any longer. What about your sister?”

“I said wait.” Deet leans forward until his face is within a few inches of the dead woman’s eyes. She’s warm to the touch, and Deet opens her leather duster.

The woman’s tormented, frozen face is filled with pain, anger, and beauty.

He flips over her body and notices the same black circular mark that’s on Preta’s back. “Do you see the circle?”

“It’s the same as on your sister.”

“Right, but the placement is slightly different.” Deet traces the circle with his fingertip. “See, the second dash is raised above the rest.”

With little care, Deet grabs the woman’s shoulder and rocks her onto her back. “Pistol.” He grins and picks up the shiny metal revolver and holds it in front of him. Pleased with the score, he stares at it for a few more seconds and then searches the woman’s pockets. Deet removes two small leather pouches and a scrap of paper from her coat. He opens the first pouch and closes it. “Bullets.” Deet angles the second pouch toward the torch and peers inside. He dumps out four gold nibs and seven whole silver and twenty coppers into his hand. Without a word, Deet drops the coins back into the pouch and ties it to his belt. He opens the scrap of paper and makes out a few names and symbols below a crude map. Barely able to read it in the dim surroundings, he squints, folds the map, and slides it into his pocket. The moonlight reflects off the silver cylinder lying atop a bed of pine needles. Deet snatches the glimmering canister off the ground, rubs the smooth exterior, and nods. “Now let’s go.”

A SILVER SURPRISE

Deet cradles Preta as they approach a flickering torch hanging next to an old barn, the red paint peeling and exposing the weathered grey wood.

Inside a wooden fenced yard, an energetic medium-sized black-and-white dog greets Deet and Yaz. The dog’s tail wags as it moves to Agna and sniffs her heels.

Yaz bends over haphazardly waving his hand. “Roscoe, back.”

Deet points at a deer carcass dangling from a six-foot-high metal pole. “Yaz, deal with that so we can eat.”

Yaz heads for the carcass and unslings his gear and draws a knife.

Roscoe takes up position next to Yaz and licks blood trickling down the deer’s neck.

Deet swings open the door to an A-frame log-and-stone cottage with a grey brick chimney. Hot air overwhelms Deet and Agna as they step inside.

“And it’s about damned time,” a gruff old man with a round face and a round belly says, sitting in a rocking chair by the fireplace. His thin brown argyle cardigan bulging with the bottom button busting at the seams. “So where was she this time?”

“In the Nocklin,” Deet calmly says, though slightly out of breath, “the south woods through the field—where you said she’d be.”

The old man tilts his head to the side and stares at Agna. “Agna Roe? What are you doing here? Deet, where’s Preta?”

“Here.” Deet carries Preta to the back room and lays her on a bed. He strokes her hair for a second and then walks back into the main room. “She should be all right, Grandpa.”

Grandpa leans forward in his rocker. “What in ten furies happened this time?”

Deet nods toward Agna. “Fill in Grandpa. I’m gonna fetch water and check on Yaz.” Deet steps out the back door, pauses, and rests his hands on hips. He looks up at the starry sky. “What the heck was that light?” Deet clicks open his watch. “Eleven twenty-two.” He smiles gazing upon the words engraved on the inside silver cover:
To my love, so you can
remember it’s time to think of me
. He snaps the case shut, slides it into his pocket, and unlatches a copper pail hanging from a hook next to the door. In the dim light, he strolls onto a worn dirt path leading to the well.

On the right, Deet passes a privy shed and a small washhouse. He reaches the stone-lined well and hooks the copper pail to a metal eyelet attached to a rope and rusty winch. The copper bucket swings freely in the breeze. “What’d you get yourself into this time, Preta Penter?” He peers deep into the black well. Moonlit ripples reflect back at him. Deet grips the tethered rope and yanks it hard, releasing a knot and sending the bucket to the water with a splash.

The cool, damp frayed rope clings to his calloused hands, and his foot rests halfway up the cobblestone masonry wall. Hand over hand, Deet raises the full water bucket, and the rusty winch squeaks with every tug.

Deet closes his eyes and pulls in rhythm. He dwells on the night’s events.
Did he miss something? Who was the boy? Where’d he go? The woman? The light? Preta and the mark? The light? Where did the boy go?

The rope jerks and snaps Deet back into the present. The metal bucket handle locks into the winch, spilling frigid water onto his arms. He lowers the bucket to chest level and unclasps the hook.

A brisk wind gust hits Deet as he moves along the path toward the barn. Deet calmly shuts his eyes, striding in tune with his surroundings. The path illuminates in his mind, the trickling creek on his right, the swaying branches to his left, Yaz’s profanity ahead; they all guide him through the darkness.

Deet opens his eyes to the barn’s lantern flickering and his brother’s fuzzy outline emerges next to the hanging deer.

Yaz’s body morphs from man to dark as he circles the carcass.

Roscoe mutates into a lurching beast licking the ground, waiting for any deer flesh to escape the bucket.

Deet approaches Yaz. “Are you almost done?”

Yaz curls his lip and shakes his head in frustration. “This should’ve been done hours ago.”

“Not now, Yaz. Just give me what you have and I’ll take it to Nala.”

Yaz snorts. “Doing this right now is such a pain in my ass—just like Nala.”

“You better hurry up and focus on getting it done, or she’ll really give you some pain.”

“She talks a big game, though she ain’t all that.”

Deet chuckles. “So you want me to tell her you don’t think she’s all that?”

Yaz freezes and glares at Deet. “
No
—you wouldn’t—would you?”

“Better get a move on then.”

Yaz frowns and grumbles as he cuts a hunk of flesh off the deer. “I’ll be done in a few minutes. Hey, what do you make of it all?”

“Nothing good,” Deet says. “Dead boy in our woods, and a woman tried to kill Preta. Some weird light shoots out of the forest and marks up Sis’s body. I don’t know what to think of it, Brother. But let’s hope tonight is all that comes of this.”

Yaz’s knife rests on the deer as he glances at Deet. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

“She seems to be getting better.” Deet steps toward the cottage and then he stops and points at his brother. “Best not tell her anything when she wakes up.”

Yaz rolls his eyes. “Come on, you know me.”

“
Yeah
, I know you, and you better not tell any of those fools for friends you hang out with either.”

“Of course I won’t.”

Deet nods. “By the way, nice shot taking out the woman.”

“I know,” Yaz says, turning back toward the deer and slicing another chunk of meat off the carcass.

Water and meat balanced in one hand, Deet yanks open the cottage door with a hard pull. At the apex, he shuffles forward, thrusting his hip into the center of the door and pushes off, bouncing himself inside the cottage.

Grandpa, bent slightly over, stands in the middle of the room with his hands on hips. “Damn let’s go, Dee. I’m starving in here.”

“Sorry, Yaz is coming.” Deet sets the water bucket and meat on a thick walnut table as he eyes the cobblestone fireplace.

A cast iron pot sits on a black metal grate over the flames and steam rises from the lid.

Deet snatches a wooden spoon off the table and dips it into the simmering pot. He raises the spoon to his lips and blows, and a pair of giant, sharp, feminine brown eyes, bears down on him. He chokes on the hot stew and swallows with an exaggerated gulp. “Nala.”