Aerenden: The Child Returns (Ærenden) (3 page)

“Distracted?
By what?”

“By
the reason you came to see me this morning, by your attraction to her.”

He
swallowed hard. “You know?”

“Of
course. Have you forgotten who I am?”

He
had not, but he had assumed she would have reprimanded him by now if she had
known. “Then you also know why I have to leave.”

“No,
I don’t.” Vivian walked around the counter to sit next to him. “I don’t see why
you have to leave at all.”

“Because
you disagree with the Council,” Nick said, and sighed. “I realize you think
they’re being overprotective, but the consequences are not their invention.
They have centuries of evidence to back their decree.”

She
nodded. “And you’re afraid you’ll be subject to those consequences.”

“Why
wouldn’t I be? I can’t risk everything we’ve done and the sacrifices you and
James have made because I’m attracted to Meaghan. I have to stay strong to
succeed.”

“You
are strong, Nick. You do an injustice by thinking otherwise.”

“I
know my limitations,” he countered. “I’ll be fine once I distance myself from
her.”

“Maybe,”
Vivian responded. “But maybe not. Sometimes life isn’t as predictable as you
want, and sometimes you have to give in to weakness to become stronger.”

“I
have to…” he repeated, and then pressed his lips together as he tried to
decipher what she had said. He shook his head, frustrated. “How can I be both
weak and strong?” he asked. “That doesn’t make any—”

She
silenced him with a kiss to the forehead. Drawing her fingers to his face, she
traced a shadow below his eye. “I see the pain you’re in, Nick. I understand
why you believe it’s warranted, but you need to listen to me. Things aren’t
what they seem. The only way you’ll succeed is if you follow your heart.”

“My
heart tells me what I’m doing is dangerous.”

“That’s
your head talking.”

“Stop,
please.” He took her hand, and tightened his fingers around it. “Please don’t
make this harder than it already is.”

“I’m
not trying to,” she assured him, and he let go of her hand. “You’ve made up your
mind already, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“All
right,” she conceded. Standing, she brought her arms around him. He pressed his
face into her neck as he remembered doing in childhood. “If this is what you
want to do, I won’t say any more about it. You have my love, Nick, and my
guidance when you need it.” He lifted his head from her shoulder and she
brought her lips to his forehead once more. “I’ll miss you. It’s been nice
having you around.”

“It’s
been nice for me too,” he told her, then frowned when her eyes shot to the door
and widened. “She’s back?” he guessed on a whisper.

Vivian
nodded, responding in a hushed voice of her own. “I should’ve been paying
closer attention.”

“Did
she overhear?”

“Only
the last part,” Vivian answered, returning her eyes to his. “But she’ll guess
you’re leaving. You should talk to her.”

Nick
nodded. His nerves returned as he slid from the stool and exited the kitchen
into the living room. Meaghan stood in front of a bookshelf on the far wall,
examining a collection of porcelain figurines James had given Vivian to
commemorate special occasions over the years. Her guilty pleasures, Vivian
liked to call them.

Meaghan
traced her finger over the head of a small white dove, and then tensed when
Nick put his hands on her shoulders.

“I
know you heard,” he said. She turned to look up at him. Tears shimmered in her
eyes, but he did his best to ignore them. “I wish there was some other way.”

“What
do you mean?” she asked. He shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets and she
frowned. “This is about us, isn’t it?”

“It’s
complicated,” he said, then reconsidered his words as she pressed her lips
together. “I wish I could explain, but it’s not possible right now.”

“Of
course it isn’t,” she said, sarcasm turning her voice hard. She crossed her
arms over her chest. “I don’t know why I’m surprised by that. You’ve made a
habit of not telling me anything, of pushing me away, and I’m tired of it.”

“Meg, please. It’s not
that simple—”

“It
is.” Her tears escaped, streaking down her face, but she shoved them away,
stepping back from him when he reached for her. “Nothing’s so complicated that
you couldn’t at least try to explain. You just don’t want to.”

“Meg—”

“Meaghan,” she snapped. “Only family's
allowed to call me Meg. You've lost the right.”

Her
words stung more than he cared to admit, but before he had the chance to
respond, she turned and stormed from the room.

A
LITTLE
more
than thirty minutes later, Nick opened his door to find Meaghan standing on his
landing, holding a plate of muffins. Heat rose from the muffins in wisps,
casting the smell of sweet strawberries and bitter rhubarb into the air. His
stomach would have rumbled, if his anxiety at the sight of her had not silenced
his hunger.

“I
wasn’t expecting you,” he said.

“Don’t
think I’m not still mad,” she told him. “But I thought we should talk. I
brought breakfast.”

“I
see.” Nick chuckled, feeling relieved. Meaghan might be mad still, but she had
come, which meant her anger would dissolve in time. He stepped aside, letting
her into the apartment, then tucked his hands into his pockets and waited.

After
a moment, Meaghan cleared her throat. “Mom and I had a long discussion. It,
um,” she dropped her eyes to the plate in her hands. “It seems I was being
childish.”

“Maybe
you were,” he said, and then held up a hand when her head snapped up, her
heated gaze locking on him. “But you’re entitled. I’m not exactly the easiest
person to be around.”

Meaghan
sighed and set the muffins down on the coffee table. “That’s the thing. You’re
not as difficult as you think, but you’re aloof. I don’t understand why.”

“You
will when you see me next.”

“When
will that be?”

“Soon,”
he responded. She stiffened and he brought his hands to her shoulders. “I’d
tell you if I knew, Meaghan, but I promise it won’t be long.”

“Meg,”
she corrected, and he knew she had forgiven him. He drew her close, and then
pressed his cheek to the top of her head when she relaxed in his arms. The next
time they met, she would know his secret and their relationship would change,
but for now, in this moment, the stillness of the friendship bonding them brought
peace.  

He
wanted to etch the feeling into his memory, but he did not get the chance. Meaghan
tensed, and then jerked from his arms, her wide eyes seeking the house over his
shoulder.

“There’s
something wrong,” she whispered. She shivered and he gripped her shoulders once
more. “There’s so much,” she gasped. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Pain,” she
continued, though Nick could tell she struggled to form her words. Her eyes
refocused on him. “It feels so real.”

“I
don’t understand.”

“Me
neither.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “It hurts, but it’s foreign.
It’s like a dream.”

Nick’s
heart hammered when he realized what she meant. “No,” he murmured. “It can’t
be.”

“Nick…”
Meaghan began, but her voice faded as her eyes found the house again. Her face
turned white. Her hands trembled, and Nick grasped them between his own.
Closing his eyes, he bowed his head to focus.

“We
have to help them,” she insisted. “We have to hurry.”

Her
hands disappeared from his. He felt her brush past him and opened his eyes in
time to loop an arm around her waist, preventing her from escaping the
apartment. “Don’t,” he said. “We can’t go in there without knowing what we’re
facing.”

“I
have to.” She pushed against him, but he did not release his hold. She reacted
to a drive she could not control and as much as he worried he might hurt her,
he tightened his grip to protect her. “Something’s wrong,” she said. “Please,
Nick. I can’t—”

“Be
quiet,” he commanded, his sharp tone silencing her. He shut his eyes and
focused again. When he found what he feared most, his eyes popped open in
panic. “This isn’t happening. I would’ve sensed them before now.”

“Who?”

Rather
than respond, he grabbed her hand and yanked her toward the door. He had no
time to explain. He had to save her life, even if it meant bringing her
straight into danger.

§

T
HEY FLED
from the apartment, down the stairs and across the yard. Meaghan was certain
she would have collapsed if Nick had not been pulling her along behind him. She
felt weak and useless, overwhelmed by pain she could not understand. She ached
from it. She forced herself to breathe, to think, though her lungs followed the
direction better than her brain. She registered the cold air, the grass as it
passed under her feet, but she did not notice when Nick abruptly halted until
she bumped into his back. Letting go of her hand, he bowed his head as he had
in the apartment, then cracked open the back door to the house.

“Is
it safe?” she asked.

“They
aren’t in the kitchen,” he responded. “We have to take the chance.”

“What chance?” She grabbed
his arm. “Nick—”

He
finished opening the door and Meaghan’s grip weakened, the remainder of her
words forgotten. The pristine kitchen her mother treasured looked to have
exploded. Colorful mixing bowls and apothecary jars, once stacked on display,
lay in shards on the counters, joined by dented pots and pans that used to hang
from the ceiling. Drawers gaped open, yanked from their homes, and the
refrigerator and cabinets stood empty, their contents strewn across the floor.

A
scream came from the living room followed by a series of crashes. Pain surged
through Meaghan and she froze, one foot over the threshold.

Nick
turned to look at her. “There’s no time to stop,” he said, and then hardened
his tone when she did not move. “Meg!”

She
snapped her eyes to his and obeyed. Half-way through the kitchen, he slowed his
pace as heavy footsteps thundered from above. He held his finger to his lips
and she nodded. She followed him into the living room, freezing once more when
she saw the horror that greeted them.

Furniture,
upended and broken into pieces, shared the carpet with pages torn from their
bindings, cast aside like large snowflakes. Deep grooves in the walls bled
drywall and wood splinters. And every figurine her mother had collected had
been shattered, turned into pale shards and dust. This was no longer her home,
but a nightmare ripped from her worst dreams.

A
groan came from the far side of the room and Meaghan turned her head toward it.
A man sat on one side of the couch, his body slumped halfway toward the floor.
His legs and arms hung at odd angles, and tears in his pants and shirt revealed
deep gashes in his skin. Blood poured from a wound in his head, flowing over a
face she refused to believe belonged to her father. It sank in places where his
bones had collapsed, giving him a hollowed look. She felt sick. Covering her
mouth, she sought her father’s eyes. They appeared empty, nearly black.

“This
isn’t real,” she whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s only a dream. I
have to wake up.”

Another
groan came from the couch, drawing her attention back to her father. He moved
his lips and Nick ran to him, leaning close to hear. After a few seconds, Nick
took something from her father’s pocket, then moved to the center of the floor.
Lifting a loose floorboard, he pulled a backpack from beneath it.

Meaghan
commanded her body to move, turning to her left to pick up the hallway phone.
Before she could call for an ambulance, her attention fell on the stairs. Her
mother lay stretched across the landing, her unseeing eyes staring toward the
ceiling, her back and neck bent at odd angles. Meaghan choked on the scream
trapped inside her throat.

“Meg,”
Nick called to her from across the room. He kept his voice low. “We need to get
your father out of here. You have to help me carry him.”

She
tried to obey him, but her feet refused to budge. She dug her fingernails into
her palms, gritting her teeth with the sharp pain, but she still could not
believe any of this was real.

“You
can’t,” her father’s voice croaked. “You have to leave me here. You have to protect
Meg.”

“James—”

“Now,”
her father insisted. His head rose and Meaghan saw a flash of authority return
to his eyes. Nick nodded and she stared at him in horror.

“I
won’t leave him here,” she said.

“We
have to. You’re in danger. Once you’re safe, I’ll return—”

“I
won’t go,” she insisted. “I refuse to leave him in the house with whoever did
this.”

“We don’t have—”