The Wilds (Reign and Ruin 1) (21 page)

"Who let you
in?" Cirrus asked.

"I certainly
don't want to be here, if you were wondering at all," Marty said.
He walked to the chair and sat, slouching so low that he was
practically lying down. His eyes did a speedy check around the room
before settling intently on the fire.

"You look
steadier," Cirrus said as he crossed to his desk.

"Well, thank
you very much. You run a tight ship." He said that last bit
begrudgingly. His eyes flicked over to Cirrus briefly. "Now that
you mention it, you look well yourself."

"I took a nap,"
Cirrus replied softly. He regarded Marty expectantly but the man
didn't move, just continued to stare into the flames with his
fingers laced tightly in his lap. "Might I ask why you are in my
chair? And not out helping the cause?"

"I've had
enough Cirrus. I picked the wrong side. I know that now." He stood
up and Cirrus realized that for the first time since they met,
Marty wasn't high. He hadn't gone back to that. Marty was cold and
sober and without the unpredictability the drugs gave him, he was
surprisingly . . . weak.

"I quit," Marty
finished. Cirrus had to struggle to keep from laughing.

The two men
regarded each other, until Cirrus sighed and reached into his
pocket. The gold watch was quite clearly heating up and gave a
little throb against Cirrus's palm as he removed it from his waist
coat.

"Marty, when
the Painter died you were passed onto me." Cirrus opened the watch
and imagined the sharp ticks that would otherwise sound in the
stark silence. "It's not a choice, but it is an honor."

Marty stood his
ground, but Cirrus saw his fingers twitch nervously.

"I would be no
use to you. You know the Painter was more than a boss, he was a
friend "

"Only because
you shot up when you clocked off," Cirrus interrupted. "Is that
what you want from me? A buddy? Someone to hold the belt tighter as
you punch the needle harder into your arm?"

The words
dripped from Cirrus's mouth and he relished them, relished the
cruelty and the disgust he felt for this slug of a man. He was a
weakling, a pathetic sneeze of sickness and rot.
He would only
cause more trouble . . .

"Well, I can
see we'll have to make an exception, Mr. Kleizenberg." He snapped
the watch shut and pushed it back into his pocket, where it settled
back in a comfortable place of warmth by his side. "I release you
from your service."

Marty stood for
a second, not sure what to make of it. But when it sunk in, he let
out a breath of relief and allowed a small smile to flit across his
face. In the meantime, Cirrus walked swiftly to the fireplace and
the woven bell-pull.

"Thank you,
Sir. I appreciate your understanding."

Cirrus turned
around and smiled as widely as he could.

"Maggie is
lucky indeed to have someone like you on her side."

Sensing the
blanket of unease that had enveloped the room, Marty nodded and
walked swiftly out of the room.

Cirrus let the
smile drop and listened to the sounds in the hallway: Marty's
footsteps, the voices in the hall, the yelling of protests and the
unmistakable smack of a large fist finding impact on a jaw.

The phone
pealed out from his desk, but Cirrus waited until he heard his men
dragging Marty downstairs to the basement before answering on the
fourth ring

"Hello?" he
said.

"Cirrus?" said
a voice.

"Yes, this is
Cirrus. May I help you?"

"Cirrus, it's
nice to hear you sounding so rested," Leof's voice slid out from
the receiver.

"Leof." Cirrus
sat down with phone. "What can I do for you?"

"You'll be
interested to know that I have just met your little obsession,"
Leof replied. Cirrus stood straight up again and checked the
hallway to make sure it was empty. He closed the door.

"Can I speak to
her? Give her the phone!" Cirrus ordered breathlessly.

"No, no,
Cirrus, she is no longer here," Leof said almost too quickly.
Cirrus's heart plummeted sharply. "But we've certainly
underestimated her intelligence." There was a pause on the other
end of the line. "She killed my uncle. And Timothy."

Cirrus felt a
swelling of pride and took a deep breath in to quell the
excitement.

"And where did
she go?" he asked. "You certainly didn't let her run back into the
Wilds, again?" Cirrus could hear a small, fuzzy scuffle.

"I couldn't
help it," Leof said finally. "She's looking for you and wouldn't be
held here." Cirrus's stomach tightened.

She's moving
forwards
, Cirrus thought. "So she's not just . . .
running?"

"Not
anymore."

"Thank you very
much. You've been a real help," Cirrus said softly.

"You're
welcome. I better warn you that she's been receiving help. Your
half-brother has made himself her protector. They're getting pretty
close. Lucan –"

Cirrus heard
the phone click and the line go dead. He held the phone receiver
for a few long moments before placing it slowly back down. His
fingers clenched themselves into fists with sharp angry cracks.

So it's come to
this . . .

Just hearing
his name brought acid to Cirrus's mouth. He hated Lucan even more
than the nightmares that stalked his dreams. Lucan was his worst
nightmare.
I am Maggie's protector, as I used to be the
Painter's, not that traitorous bastard!

He still
remembered the day he was told the Painter had dreamt. The same day
he found his brother on duty, twisted in his bed sheets with his
large hands grasping and tugging, skin and sweat and the smell of
sex . . . he still felt the rage that possessed him when he tied
Lucan to the wooden pole and the fury that had helped him pull the
knots tight around his ankles and kick his jug of water into the
sand. Next time he would use nails. How he would love to use a
hammer to break through his palms into the wood.

I can still
taste that sunlight
, Cirrus thought to himself.
I can nearly
taste it
. He shivered. His fingers itched. He sat back down in
his chair to wait for the dawn.
I'll convince Maggie
, he
thought. And he would get Marty to help him, even if it killed
him.

A scream
resounded over the manor grounds. His dreams were on the hunt
again.

And below
Cirrus, Marty stared at the ceiling and spat out blood as he
listened to the sounds of nightmares stalking above the basement
walls.

Chapter
19

"I swear to all bloody murder, if you don't
stop shoving me in the back I will turn around and maul you."

Lucan laughed
and gave Leof another push across the sand. I watched him
skeptically. As far as I was concerned he was enjoying this far too
much. Leof had already tried to make a run for it twice and each
time Lucan had taken him down harder than a Cowboys linebacker. I
can't say I minded too much, but I'm sure I had some sympathy left
somewhere.

"What are you
going to do? Shimmy me to death?" Lucan tugged Leof's bound hands
sharply and Leof snarled over his shoulder.

"I can still
bite off your nose," he hissed. "I doubt little Painter girl will
fancy you much then."

Lucan rolled
his eyes at me and I smiled back uncomfortably. Truth be told, I
was feeling a bit awkward since we started our march across the
sand. When I had finally opened my eyes back at the circus, Lucan
was still holding me. I must have fallen asleep or simply forgotten
where I was for a minute, but when I saw whose arms were supporting
me I thought for a few stupid moments I was dead. This wolfish man
who looked like he had walked out of a western gazed down at me
with such sadness in his shockingly blue eyes. And then he smiled
and tenderly swept the back of his knuckles against my cheek.

"You back with
us, Maggie?" he had whispered. It was almost too hard not to reach
up and rub my thumb along his jaw line's rough stubble. My heart
had given a quick beat under the dreamcatcher and I was girlishly
tempted to bury my face in his lap to hide the blush.

But then I
placed him, the man who had shot two people only two minutes
before. And worse, the girl he was holding who had just blown away
a man in cold blood. My stomach sank with an almighty clunk as I
recognized where we were, who we were and what we were doing. His
arms didn't feel so comforting anymore and the hands that stroked
my hair tenderly still had gunshot beneath the fingernails.

And although he
was still as beautiful as before, that beauty held a danger that I
hadn't yet recognized before now; anger and a careless recklessness
that I had only equated with my uncle. So willing to take a life .
. .

And now we were
walking along the sand with Leof – because no, he hadn't killed him
in the end which I guess should have made me feel better but
actually just made me dwell on the fact that Lucan must have shot
Timothy twice. Lucan was looking at me now like we were confidantes
and our hostage had just made the most endearing joke about our
relationship.

One man who
wants to couple with my mind, another who is hitting on me through
the power of hostility. Did I deserve something so fucked up? I
wanted to think that I didn't but looking back perhaps that was the
best I could have hoped for.

"That's it,
Lucan. Stop being so pathetic and pushing me around. I am not
moving again until I get a sit down and a cigarette." Leof dropped
to the sand and looked up at us defiantly. Lucan sighed and kneeled
down to reach into Leof's pocket and pulled out his smokes. I sat
slowly down, watching the sun grow lower in the sky.

Leof curled his
lips around the thin cigarette and waited until Lucan lit it before
turning his attention to me.

"You're not
going to win, you know."

"Shut up,
Leof," I sighed.

"No, really. I
know this. I've seen enough escape attempts in my day to know you
are doomed." He blew some smoke from the side of his mouth. "And
this plan of yours is about the stupidest thing I ever heard
of."

"Watch your
mouth," Lucan said, cuffing him sharply in the head. Leof smiled
and shook his greasy hair from his face.

"Not saying it
doesn't mean it's not true."

Tragically, he
was bang-on. Our idea was just about the stupidest plan ever
concocted. When Lucan forced Leof to called Cirrus, his motive was
to lure him out into the open; get him on our turf and put a
surprise attack in motion before we entered the Middle Canvas and
played into his hands. But Leof, who proved to be just as addicted
to havoc as warned, had quickly blown Lucan's cover and instead of
playing it cool, like an ass Lucan hung up in probably the most
obvious cover-up ever.

So now Cirrus
could be on his way, angrier than ever, or he could leave us
deliberately out here to die. No dream would stop for us now; they
didn't trust us with the amount of dead bodies we seemed to leave
behind.

"What are you
thinking about, Maggie?" Lucan asked after a minute.

"My mother," I
said, the lie coming to mind surprisingly quickly. I stared
vacantly into the sky and of course now that I had mentioned it I
was
suddenly thinking of her: the gin-soaked elephant in the
room. "She must be so worried." Chuckling a bit, I looked back up
at Lucan. "Or not at all. I'm never quite sure how my mother feels
about me."

"What do you
mean? I thought all mothers were obligated to love their children,"
Lucan said brusquely as he settled himself a few feet away from me.
Leof scoffed.

"Lucan, you of
all people should know how it feels not to be the favorite," he
sneered. Lucan looked at him sharply, but didn't argue.

"Well, I don't
know about your mother, but obligation was never something mine
took to heart. The world could crumble and zombies could be vying
for brains and all my mother would contribute to a survival colony
is a fool-proof method for dirty martinis."

"So your mother
refuses all obligation?"

"Except me," I
said. "Me she's stuck with."

"We're all
stuck with you," Leof said. "Must be a prevailing theme in your
life."

"Did she leave
your father?" Lucan said, ignoring Leof.

"How did you
know that she left him?" I asked, feeling myself becoming slightly
defensive. The thought of my mother as 'too good' for my father
made my blood boil, almost as much as the memory of their last
fight. The last night in December that set the shitty precedent for
the rest of my life. The night when my mom blamed everything on my
father and left him sitting on the couch in the dark. And the
morning after when we found him hanging from the shower
curtain.

Leof whistled
as Lucan sputtered through the awkward silence. "No, my father died
when I was young," I continued finally, biting off another angry
dismissal.

"Death is not
something to be ashamed of, honey," Lucan said. "It is either the
end of something worthwhile or the beginning. That's what I assume,
anyway." This was perhaps the first time he had offered anything
resembling sympathy, so I shrugged off the regret I felt.

"I could never
be ashamed of my father. I just always thought that he deserved
some time after he died to be mourned."

"It's time to
forget him, little girl," Leof said snidely from the front. "If he
really loved you he would have stayed around."

Lucan bunched
up a boot and smacked him soundly in the jaw, sending the cigarette
flying across the sand and this time I was glad. That hostility was
coming in handy now that I was allowing the darkness to rear its
ugly head again.

"I'm sorry for
your loss," Lucan stated seriously over the huffs of pain emitting
from between Leof's blood soaked teeth. I tried to smile and took a
sip of water from the pack. I wished he hadn't brought it up, but I
was wishing a lot of things at that moment. Opening up to the
potentially unhinged wolverine on my right shouldn't take priority
over finding Cirrus. But part of me felt good for sharing a little
bit.