The Source: Book III of the Holding Kate Series (43 page)

“Corey,” Tara started then wrapped her fingers through Trip’s for support. “We have seen Kate.”

Corey jumped up. “What? Where is she? Is she here?”

“No. No. She
was
here, Corey, she has spent the last thirteen years—”

“What? Where?” Corey sat back down. “Tara! Tell me!”

“She has been living with Gregory.” Tara paused and cut her eyes to Trip. “They are…they are…”

“They are?” Corey’s voice crackled like a broken stick.

Trip released a frustrated huff. “Gregory calls Kate his wife.”

Corey felt as though Trip had thrust a sword directly into his heart. He couldn’t catch his breath for a moment, the pain was so intense. Finally, he rasped out, “What does Kate say about that?”

“She says they are not married, but that she owes him a great debt. He has convinced her that he loves her and that he has saved her from some horrible future.”

“Well, let’s go un-convince her!” Corey growled.

“Corey, I told her you were coming here and that she could stay with us and be reunited with you. She went hysterical thinking that you loved Najwa and that she could never return to that situation.”

“But we can tell her the truth…and she will…she.” Corey’s face crumpled into despair.

“I told her everything,” Tara said.” I told her the whole truth and that if she left with Gregory, I would convey to you that she had chosen him. They left the same day without even taking leave of us. She has changed so much, Corey. You wouldn’t recognize her.”

“I would know my Kate anywhere in any state of being,” Corey murmured. Fire exploded in his chest at the thought of Kate in Gregory’s arms.
Thirteen years. With him.
If Corey knew anything, he knew Kate would struggle with even one year alone. She needed constant communion to keep her heart from decay. Thirteen years might as well be an eternity. She would have changed dramatically.

Until he heard it from her lips, he would fight for her. He just needed a moment alone with her and he would know the state of her heart and where to start the healing process.

Please don’t let it be too late.

KATE KNELT AT
the bank of a large lake, splashed cold water on her face, and refilled her canteen. The horse, thirst sated, nibbled at tender grasses growing along the bank. Mist-tinted waters steeped her in the stillness and quiet of the morning. A loon called, and tiny minnows flashed by in the shallows. Thicket lined the far shore, so distant she could not make out the condition of the bank. The sheer size of the lake would delay her by several days. That was if she could actually find her way around it. It seemed to go on infinitely as though river fed and sustained.

“What should I do?” she whispered to herself. If she circled to the south, the lake most likely would end in another waterfall into the Singing Cove. When they sailed through it, a waterfall trickled over the cliffs every two or three hundred yards. Every body of water up here eventually emptied into the cove.

“I should have chartered a boat! I’d be there by now,” she grumbled and pulled out some cheese to nibble on. She sat on the dewy grass and chewed on her options.

If she circled north, maybe she would find a town or a ferry crossing that would get her and her horse across the lake. Worst case scenario, she would have to travel north until she found a narrow crossing or the outer edge of the lake.

Snuffling noises nearby drew Kate’s attention. She stood, ears trained on the spot.
I need a weapon!
She tossed her leftover cheese into the lake, slunk over to her horse, and slipped her knife out of her knapsack into her belt loop. Eyes darting and adrenalin pumping, she secured the horse’s reins to a nearby log.

Trip and Tara fashioned spears out of saplings so many times, Kate felt she could approximate their efforts. It was time to arm herself. She hurried to a nearby tree and sawed it off at the bottom, shaved the branches from it, and whittled the end to a point. It was sturdy and sharp. It gave her a measure of comfort, but she wished she had her whip with her.

The horse lost interest in grazing. They’d stayed too long in one spot, so Kate secured her spear, mounted up, and turned north.

Soon
. She kept the mantra in her head.
Soon. I will be with Corey. Soon.

No longer ragged and serrated, a new kind of feeling had taken root in her heart. It wasn’t hope necessarily, though she recognized it deep inside, daring to sprout. But the feeling in the forefront was tough, strong. It wasn’t really confidence, she doubted herself at every turn. It wasn’t courage. Every little croak and chirrup sent her heart into frightened gallops. What was this rising sun inside of her? Then it hit her.

Determination.

Nothing would keep her from getting to Corey in time. She fixated on reaching him.
Failure is not an option.

The horse’s ears flailed back and forth. She shook her mane, inching to the right toward the lake. Kate had corrected her course several times, getting frustrated with the skittish beast, when she recognized the movements for what they were. Awen was frightened.

Too late!

The horse neighed and reared up. A dark furry beast slammed into Kate’s side and launched her off her horse. She hit the ground hard, paralyzing her lungs. Wriggling under the weight of her assailant, stars popping in her vision, Kate struggled to breathe until jaws tore into her arm.

Her lungs released, and she screamed, blood spattering her face.

Snarling and ripping sounds pulsed from the creature latched onto her. Kate heaved against the mass of fur, teeth, and talons, trying to get a sense of what attacked her. She reared back enough to see the familiar glare of a demonic jackal.

She screamed a bloodcurdling sound that sent the horse galloping off into the wild. The jackal clamped down harder and gurgled in the back of his throat, shaking his head and ripping deeper gashes into her arm.

Blood flew everywhere! Some major artery or vein had been ripped open and her strength leaked from her body in red pulses. Darkness assailed her, calling her to a false rest.

“NO!” Kate roared, forcing herself to stay conscious. She pummeled the jackal’s skull as hard as she could with her fist. He didn’t even flinch at her attempts. He just clamped his jagged yellow teeth deeper into her flesh with each blow.

God,
I need a weapon!
Her hand frantically scratched across the ground for a rock to bash the beast with, and then she remembered her knife tucked in her belt and wriggled her hand between the pressing weight of the jackal and her belly. He snarled and raked his claws into the dirt on both sides of her head. Kate clasped the knife but couldn’t get her hand out of the tight space between their closely pressed bodies.

She tried to roll but the beast was too heavy. She raised her arm to see if he would follow and the tearing of her flesh made her scream again as she threw her head back exposing her most vital artery. The jackal’s voracious eyes locked on her throat and went for the kill. He released her arm and lunged for her neck. She used his movement to wrench the knife free with one hand and guard her throat with her injured arm. Just as the jackal slammed his jaws down on her arm again, she stabbed the knife into the side of his neck and slashed it down.

He released her arm with a yelp and jerked his head back. He dug his nose and face into the dirt and scratched reflexively at his neck wound. Kate pounced on him and stabbed furiously at whatever fur covered flesh she could find. Jackal blood gushed to the ground to mix with hers, and with a last stutter of his leg, he died.

Kate pushed away from him with a groan and crawled into the lake. The cold water stifled her burning cuts. She laid back and floated, breathing heavily, waiting for her heart to settle.

When her breathing returned to normal and her heart ceased its frantic seizing, she crawled out of the lake and turned a slow circle, looking for her horse. She needed to get a pressure bandage on her bleeding arm. She cast a glance down at the dead jackal and shuddered, then stalked a few paces away, ripped off her shirt and wrapped her dripping arm. There was no sign of the horse, but she still had her knife and did not want to remain anywhere near the fresh meat that would call to every carnivore within a matter of minutes.

She set a steady pace and marched northward.

After a few hours, her marching had devolved into stumbling and swaying. She came to an outcropping of boulders and unable to take another step, fell across the nearest. Her arm throbbed, her stomach growled, and she stumbled half naked in a strange land.

“Look on the bright side, Kate.” She lay back against the sun warmed rock and stared through bleary eyes at the lake. “You have plenty of water to drink.”

She drifted off into an exhaustion-induced coma with her knife clutched to her chest.

She woke with a start.

Disoriented, she sat up and stared into the darkness. “Where am I?” Her ragged voice ached.

A coarse blanket covered her. Further inspection revealed her arm wrapped in a proper bandage. A crack and a pop sounded behind her. A soft orange glow emanated from beyond the boulder. She slowly turned and saw an old man tending to a spit over a fire.

“The fish maiden awakens,” His wheezing voice dissolved into a chuckling cough. But his eyes twinkled in the firelight.

Kate’s knapsack rested beside her on the boulder, and her horse stood tethered a few feet behind the old man. She rummaged through the knapsack, pulled out a fresh change of clothing, and slid off the large rock away from the light of the fire to dress.

The old man called to her. “Came on you a layin’ there and thought surely a fish maiden had leapt out of the lake and a beached herself on a sarsen. Heheheh.”

Kate came into the firelight tucking her shirt into her pants and eyeing the old man warily. “Did you bandage my arm?”

“Yep, and covered you so you wouldn’t crisp up in the sun, too.”

“Thank you…er…”

“Jes call me Doc.”

“Doc, is that your name or your profession?”

“Both, t’day,” he laughed. “Hungry I s’pose?”

“Yes, I am.” Kate sat down across from him and eyed the spitted rabbit. Her mouth watered.

“Be ready soon.” He reached for a canteen. “Now, there’s plenty o’water, but if you’s prefer sumpin’ a bit more abusive, I’kn share my special tea with ya.”

Kate grinned, took the canteen, and sniffed. Her eyebrows shot up and she snapped her head back at the fumes. She held the canteen at arm’s length, wondering what he let rot in there. “Pass.”

“Good call,” he heckled and threw back a swig. “You gotta name, fish girl?”

Kate hesitated, cleared her throat, and said the first thing that came to mind. “Hope.”

“Hope.” His bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Didn’t peg you for a Hope.” He cast a disbelieving look at her and drew another shot from the canteen. “Well Hope, or whatever your name is, the rabbit is done.” He removed the spit, cut the rabbit into two pieces, and gave her half.

She accepted and tore into the sizzling meat.