Splinter (The Machinists Book 2) (16 page)

“You’re hurt,” Kendyl said, looking him over.

“I’m fine. How are they?”

“They’re in shock, but nobody’s injured. The Hyland refugees are nervous, afraid of retaliation, I think, but other than that…” She turned to observe the group. The Hyland refugees had formed a tight circle on the other side of the trail. There were only seven of them, three of which were children, and they watched the rest anxiously. Brandt was already striding up to Jaxon.

“Good job,” Allyn said to Kendyl. “You did really good.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“I don’t know about that,” Allyn said, smiling his approval, and then he made his way toward Jaxon and Brandt.

Brandt, always a man of perfect posture, slouched as he approached Jaxon. He reminded Allyn of a dog that knew it had done something wrong and was about to be punished. He had shaved his beard, revealing a face that was quickly losing its battle with age. Sleep deprived and anxious, his deep-set eyes were wary; his wrinkles, deeper and more pronounced.

“Jaxon,” Brandt said, “I… I had no idea…”

Jaxon remained silent, watching Brandt with cold eyes, judging him.

“They joined us when we fled the Hyland Estate,” Brandt continued. “I had no way of knowing… surely, you know I couldn’t… I wouldn’t…”

“How is your family, Brandt?” Jaxon asked.

“My family?” Brandt’s face lost all of its remaining color. “They’re…” He turned to face them. Juniette held their son in front of her, watching her husband. Her auburn hair was tied back in a ponytail, and even in the dead of night, she was stately. Proper. The boy in her arms, Devon, couldn’t have been older than nine or ten, and his shaggy, sandy-blond hair had bangs down to his eyebrows. He’d inherited his mother’s fair skin and his father’s deep-set eyes, but his face mirrored both parents’ worried expression. “They’re shaken.”

“We’re all shaken.”

Allyn couldn’t read Jaxon. Never a man of many words, Jaxon grew even terser when he was tense or anxious. His face was hard, jaw set, eyes drilling into Brandt.

“Jaxon, you have to believe me. I knew nothing about this. We fled the estate to avoid violence, not to find it. I’m just as outraged as you.”

“I know.”

“If… if you need us to go…”

Jaxon’s eyes narrowed. Allyn wanted to say something, to side with Brandt and help Jaxon see reason. Brandt had fled the Hyland Family because Darian had grown into a sociopath and because the McCollum Family afforded new opportunities for Devon. Brandt hadn’t selected who had fled with him. This man had been duped, just as they had been.

“No,” Jaxon said, his voice growing soft. “That won’t be necessary. I believe you. I just struggle with the idea that nearly half of your group was sent here to assassinate me, and you had no idea.”

“We didn’t ask questions,” Brandt said. “I figured we all left for different reasons, and their reasons were their own. If they didn’t want to talk about it, I wasn’t going to pry.”

“And it never got brought up?” Allyn asked. The question was out of his mouth before he realized it. He didn’t know why he asked it; Brandt already had his trust.

“Never,” Brandt said.

Jaxon turned to Allyn. “It’s late,” he said. “Get everyone back inside.”

Allyn couldn’t tell if Jaxon was angry that he’d worked his way into the conversation or if it was simply time to try to return life to a level of normalcy. Either way, he complied.

Allyn located Kendyl again, and the two of them quickly rounded up the disorganized magi and led them back to the cabin. The remaining Hyland refugees lagged behind the others, heads down and quiet. Allyn tried to calm their nerves by offering a kind smile and walking with them, but it did little good. They were just as nervous of the McCollum Family as the McCollums were of them. Allyn didn’t know how they would be able to integrate the Hylands into the Family now. The distrust ran too deep. It would be like healing a splinter, and in Allyn’s limited time with the Family, he’d never seen or heard of it being done.

“They should take our rooms for the night,” Kendyl said, slowing from the group to fall into step with Allyn.

“I agree,” Allyn said. It would separate the two Families, giving each a level of privacy while allowing their emotions to settle. “Take the Hylands inside and get them comfortable.”

Kendyl dropped back to speak to Juniette, then ushered them inside. Allyn sought out Ren and soon found her on the front porch, peering uneasily into the forest.

“Mason is still out there,” Ren said as he approached.

“So are Liam and Nyla.”

“Liam and Nyla are safe.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Who do you think prevented Liam’s assassination?” Ren asked, giving Allyn a knowing look. “I don’t like it, Allyn. He should have been back by now.”

“You want to go look for him.”

“We don’t leave magi behind.”

Allyn thought back to the assault on Lukas’s compound and the battle of the manor, wondering how much truth there was to that statement. “It’ll have to wait,” he said.

“I’m not a young magi just coming into my abilities, Allyn,” Ren said. “I don’t need to be told to do my duty. Until the last assailant is captured or otherwise taken care of, they are still a threat to this Family. We’ll set up a watch tonight and hope Mason returns by morning. If he hasn’t, I’m leaving at first light.”

Allyn’s face grew hot, and for once, he was thankful for the late hour. If Ren noticed his discomfort, she didn’t say anything. “I want to go with you,” he said.

“You don’t even like Mason.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to help him.”

Ren’s eyes narrowed, distrustful. Allyn cursed under his breath. He needed to do a better job of hiding his feelings.

“I want to help,” he said with as much conviction as he could muster.

Ren pursed her lips but nodded.

Chapter 18

A
llyn stepped outside as the first rays of sunlight appeared on the horizon. The muscles in his legs, back, and core screamed at him—every step a separate plea for him to stop and rest. His very bones hurt, and he’d been only marginally successful in pushing the constant dull ache to the back of his mind. His body had every right to be angry with him—he’d damn near electrocuted himself when he’d used the tree as an anchor. He wanted to listen to it. He wanted to stop. He wanted to curl into a ball and wait for the pain to end, but he’d made a commitment, and he would see it through. So it was pure will that propelled him onto the deck, where Ren was already waiting for him.

She had remained on watch through the night, even though Jaxon had relieved her hours ago. Perhaps realizing Ren wouldn’t stand down, Jaxon had set himself to circling the grounds, sometimes venturing into the forest but always remaining within view. Nyla had returned with Liam shortly after Allyn returned to the cabin, but Mason had vanished—and Allyn feared the worst.

Mason was one of the strongest magi within the McCollum Family, but in battle, life always danced on the blade of a knife. One mistake or one mental error could turn the battle ugly. And chasing an unnamed aggressor into the forest during the dead of night offered plenty of inopportune possibilities. Mason could have simply slipped, tripped, or stumbled, giving the attacker the advantage.

Ren appraised Allyn with a steady expression as he stepped onto the deck. If she was surprised to see him follow through with his word, she didn’t show it.

“This is the last place I saw him,” she said. “He leaped off the deck in pursuit.”

Allyn stepped up to the railing and leaned over, peering down. He gulped. The twelve-foot drop was made worse by the sharply sloping ground at the bottom. He didn’t know how Mason had jumped and not broken a leg.

In the dim morning light, he could see a large crater in the snow where Mason and the attacker had landed, as well as the tracks that led from there down the hillside and into the forest.

“At least we know where to start,” Allyn said. “You ready?”

Ren nodded then cleared the top of the railing of snow and hopped on top of it.

“What are you—?”

Ren leaped off the railing. She landed in a crouch, stood, and looked up at Allyn expectantly. “You coming?”

“I’ll walk.”

“I’ll catch you,” Ren said patronizingly.

Allyn laughed. “I’ll be right down.” He turned back to the door and walked inside, careful not to wake the sleeping members.

Nyla was waiting for him on the front porch, dressed in her navy compression armor. Her silver hair was tied back in a ponytail extenuating her long neck. “I thought I missed you,” she said.

“Almost,” Allyn said. “You coming along, too?”

“That’s the plan.”

A wave of relief flooded through him. Ren didn’t make him feel uncomfortable, but he wasn’t as close to her as he was to Nyla. The woman standing in front of him had confided in him, telling him her deepest secret, and she’d been there when he’d needed her most. They shared a bond. Besides, it made sense to have a cleric in their party. If Mason was injured, Allyn and Ren weren’t capable of giving it to him the same way Nyla was.

“Good,” Allyn said. “Ren’s already out back.”

Ren had descended the hillside and stopped at the tree line by the time Allyn and Nyla rounded the cabin. She crouched, observing the tracks that led into the forest. Allyn pulled his dark coat tight and the zipper a little higher.

“The tracks are deep,” Ren said, turning back to Allyn, stumbling on her words when she noticed Nyla. “We shouldn’t have a problem following them, but we still need to be ready. We don’t know what waits for us in there.”

Ten or fifteen paces into the forest, they entered a different world. The dense fir and hemlock trees towered over them. Pines blocked the morning light, plunging the forest floor into darkness. The little light that did pierce the blanket of ice-laden pine branches streamed through in sheets, cutting the darkness like a razor.

Thick, fragrant sap seeped from tree bark, making the trunks look wet. Birds fluttered from tree to tree, darting among the branches as if they were dancing, chirping and squawking playfully. The forest floor was largely untouched, making the tracks simple to follow.

Their biggest difficulty was keeping their footing on the increasingly steep hillside. The powdered snow made each step more difficult. Though if they did fall, Allyn supposed it would prevent them from tumbling uncontrollably down the hillside.

Allyn lumbered along in silent agony. The snow had already soaked through his boots, and the cold was slowly creeping up his legs, chilling him, leaving numbness in its wake. Staring at his feet, he counted his steps.

One hundred seventy-two. One hundred seventy-three. One hundred seventy-four
.

He couldn’t remember how many times he’d lost count and had to start over. And even now he couldn’t tell if the numbers matched up with his steps, or if they followed their own rhythm.

One hundred seventy-nine. One hundred eighty.

They continued steadily down the hillside, until at last, the ground leveled out into a deep valley. Towering hills of stone and evergreen trees surrounded them on three sides, and the land stretched out in front of them as far as Allyn could see.

There was no sign of Mason.

Allyn sighed. He’d hoped this would be quick. Follow the tracks. Find the man. Bring him back to the cabin. Simple. He wasn’t prepared for a trek, mentally or physically. And he sure as hell wasn’t dressed for it.
Stupid
.
What were you expecting? You have to prepare for the worst. Always.

“Are you all right?” Nyla stepped up beside him. Her head was cocked to the side. “You’re suddenly as pale as Liam.”

The thought of Liam’s “library tan” brought a smile to Allyn’s face.

“It’s cold,” Allyn said.

“And you’re not dressed for—”

“Shhh!” Ren said, scanning their surroundings. Her eyes were narrow, alert, darting from tree to tree. She cocked her head and leaned to the side as if she were straining to hear something in the distance. Her attention was focused on a fallen tree a few dozen paces in front of them. A tangled thicket of bushes strangled the rotten trunk. Ren turned back to them. “Nyla?”

She took one step forward and extended a hand in front of her. She closed her eyes. The seconds ticked by, turning into minutes, until Nyla finally opened her eyes and dropped her hand. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I’m not as strong as Leira, and there’s too much energy in these hills. But I think I can feel something.”

Ren nodded and bounded forward, throwing snow from the bottoms of her boots, fire ready in her palms. Allyn follow her, his body raging again, but he gathered the pain into the void, and the electricity sprang to life half a second later. The lemony taste of nausea was only a minor annoyance this time. His body was too tired to care.

Approaching the fallen tree, Ren pointed to the right then the left, and Allyn and Nyla flanked the tree on either side. The ancient fir had landed atop younger timbers, giving Allyn a space to crawl under. He waited, however, for Ren’s command. Once Nyla was in position at the base of the trunk, Ren nodded, and they pushed forward.

Ren leaped onto the trunk as Nyla dashed around the base. Allyn scuttled through the small opening, and he and Nyla appeared on the other side simultaneously, coming to an abrupt stop. The pristine snow was stained a deep crimson.

The space under the trunk had been dug out, and three walls of snow and ice had been constructed. Mason lay inside, slumped against one of the walls, his chin on his chest.

Nyla placed a hand on his chest as Ren jumped from the tree. From her perspective, only the blood would have been visible.

Mason’s skin was ashen, and he didn’t appear to be breathing. A tourniquet made from his torn shirt had been tied around his thigh, and below it, the meat of his leg was shredded, the bone visible but unbroken. Even if Mason was alive and Nyla could bring him back to consciousness, he wouldn’t be walking anytime soon.

“He’s alive,” Nyla said. “But he’s suffering from severe hypothermia and has lost a lot of blood. We’ll have to splint the leg. There’s nothing else I can do for it.”

“Is he going to lose it?” Allyn asked.

“I don’t know,” Nyla said. “The snow slowed the degradation, but until we get him back to the cabin, I have no idea. I could try and heal part of the wound, but then you’d have
two
people to carry back.”

“Do what you can,” Ren said. “Get him ready to move as quickly as possible. I want to be back by midday. We can’t get stranded out here.” She turned to Allyn and leaned in close. “Remain here with them and stay alert. I’m going to circle the area.”

“They’re still out there, aren’t they?” Allyn asked.

Ren nodded. “I didn’t see any tracks leading away.”

“They could have brushed them away.”

“Undoubtedly,” Ren said. “But only to mask where they’re hiding, not where they were going.”

“Then what are they waiting for?”

“An advantage.”

“Don’t you think we should stick together then?”

Ren gave him a bemused look.

“You’re
trying
to lure them out,” Allyn said.

Ren gave him a slight nod and darted off.

Allyn positioned himself with his back against the tree, keeping his eyes on landscape. The stillness mixed with his anxiety and played tricks on his eyes. The dark patches jutting out of the snow resembled hulking human shapes, ready to bound up and attack, and the sporadic breeze tickled the hairs on the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

He wanted to ask Nyla to help him keep watch—there was too much ground to oversee—but she was busy.

A twig snapped in the distance.

Allyn whipped his head in its direction, but the same stillness that had pervaded the last several minutes lingered. He stared at the same patch of forest, almost willing someone to appear. And just as he was about to move on, another twig snapped—this time, accompanied by a moving black mass. Broad-shouldered, with a large head that looked larger because of a receding hairline, William slid out from behind a thick cedar tree. He stepped to the side, watching Allyn, a six-foot mass of bristling confidence and bravado.

Allyn held his arms wide, displaying the coils of electricity, and took a few steps forward in his own show of swagger. He hoped he looked stronger than he felt.
How many more times am I going to be in a kill-or-be-killed situation before I lose my mind?

William squared up on him, menace in his eyes. William—like Riordan, Tomas, and the other would-be assassins—had infiltrated the McCollum Family for one purpose, and it wasn’t to negotiate. Ren had been correct. These people wouldn’t flee. They would regroup and try again. That’s why William hadn’t killed Mason—he’d used him as bait.

“How close is he?” Allyn asked Nyla.

“He’s stable,” Nyla said.

“Can he walk?”

“No.”

“Then why don’t you come out here and give me a hand.”

Nyla looked up. Noticing William, she started, hitting her head on the bottom of the trunk. She cursed then ducked out from the shelter and circled wide, giving William two targets instead of one. Nyla would be ineffective at that distance, but if she could get close enough to touch him, she could force William under—if she didn’t kill him first.

Air concussed in the distance. Allyn flinched and nearly missed the object streaking through the air in William’s direction. Roughly the length of his arm and as thin as a finger, the clear object was filed to a point. William saw the ice blast too late. It took him in the chest, throwing him backward and impaling him against a tree with a solid
thunk
.

Ren emerged from a tangle of blackberry bushes. The air warped again, and Ren’s second blast took William in the chest, mere inches from the first. Allyn watched in sickened awe. Ren was like a sniper—silent, accurate, and above all, effective. She nodded in Allyn’s direction then made for William. Allyn followed.

William’s head hung limply, and blood streaked down from the corners of his mouth, already drying in the cool air. Allyn hadn’t noticed from the distance, but William had a nasty gash across his side. He’d tried to cauterize it but had done a sloppy job, and drops of blood still seeped from the burned flesh.

Ren grabbed William by his hair and yanked his head up. His face was pallid, his dark eyes devoid of life. Allyn’s gut twisted, and his face grew hot as nausea washed over him.

Another dead
. Not by his hands, but he’d still played a role.
It was him or you
, a distant voice said. But did that make it okay? Did that make it
right
? He was here to protect his family, not to fight. Not to kill.
Protection sometimes requires violence,
the voice said. Allyn didn’t like it.
You don’t need to,
the voice replied.

“You okay?” Ren asked. “You hurt?”

“No,” Allyn said. “I’m fine.”
I’m just having a silent argument with a voice inside my head. That’s all
.
Nothing to worry about
.

“Good. Let’s go.” Ren started back toward Nyla and Mason.

“Are we just going to leave him here?” Allyn shouted after her.

“Yes.”

Allyn looked over William. The two ice blasts that lanced through him would eventually melt, and his limp body would fall to the forest floor, to be picked apart by coyotes and wolves. Allyn had a hard time explaining why, but he felt the man deserved better.

“Allyn!” Ren’s voice cut through him, bringing him back to the present. She and Nyla had pulled Mason from his shelter and were in the process of splinting his leg.

With a sigh, Allyn turned from William and started for the two women. They still had a lot of work to do. They would need to construct a litter for Mason, then drag him—uphill and through the forest, dense with snow and thick with underbrush.

Allyn’s body began wailing again.

Allyn felt as though a very large man were standing on his chest. His breathing came in short, agonizing breaths, and he found himself holding it in fear of the pain. But even then, the pain didn’t go away. It had started as a dull ache he could ignore. But as they towed Mason’s makeshift litter up the mountainside, Allyn’s breathing had become more ragged; the pain nearly debilitating. And it was only getting worse.

It’s the air
.
It’s freezing my lungs
. But he couldn’t stop—they were almost there. He could see the top of the hill only a couple hundred feet above them.

He adjusted the rope over his shoulder and took another painful breath, continuing the trek upward. The rope was little more than braided vines that had been sheared clean of barbs and brambles. It stretched behind him, taut, attaching to the front of Mason’s litter. Ren was a few paces to Allyn’s side, pulling a second rope.

They’d begun in unison, pulling in a similar step and cadence, but as the ground had grown steeper and more treacherous, their stamina had waned and their cadence had become disjointed. Now they pulled as ragged individuals, each jockeying for the lead like a pair of thoroughbreds coming around the bend.