Viator (The Viator Chronicles Book 1) (24 page)

“We’ve got to get her out of here,” shouted one of the men.

Erin squeezed her eyes shut and wiped her mouth.

“Cover me!” shouted the other.

He scooped her up off the ground, and she cried out from the wrenching pain. Her eyes shot open. He was running, holding her and running. She closed her eyes again and buried her face in his jacket, the scent of pine strong on his skin.

His running finally slowed to a walk, and Erin heard his footsteps pounding on wood. She struggled to open her eyes again and saw the lake. They were on a dock, and the man stepped into a boat moored there. He took her into the small hold in the bow and laid her down on the bunk. She focused on his face; it blurred and then cleared. It was Michael. Bruce stepped inside as well.

“How is she?” he asked.

Shaking his head, Michael answered, “Don’t know yet.”

“Erin, can you hear me?” he asked.

She whispered. “My back.”

Michael turned her over and pulled up her jacket. He pulled her shirt away from her skin, and she cried out as blood pulsed from the wound.

Michael groaned. “We need some water.”

Bruce turned and left the hold.

“I need to take care of your wounds. Hold on. Stay with me, Erin,” Michael said.

She was afraid she was going to get sick again.

Bruce came back with a pan of water and some cloths.

“This is going to hurt,” Michael said. He pulled off her jacket, and Erin gasped and shrank away.

“Wait. The dreamer? Where?” she asked. Shivering, she could hardly speak.

“We had already sent him back before they attacked you. It was a trap.”

She closed her eyes.

“This is going to hurt. You’re cut open, and your back is covered with black welts.”

He washed the wound and pulled a flask from his jacket. He poured a little of the liquid over Erin’s injury, and she cringed.

“We’ve got to go. They’ll be after us,” Bruce said.

“Let’s go to my cabin. It’ll be safe. We have to keep Erin with us for a while—we can’t let her wake up like this. She needs more time,” Michael said. “I need to bandage this first.”

“Be quick.”

“Stay with us, Erin.” Michael wrapped a bandage around her and left the hold. She lay on her stomach on the bunk, barely hearing what they said.

Erin fought to stay conscious and listened to their footfalls as they worked the boat, the flapping of the sail as it was raised. The hull creaked as the wind caught the sail, and the boat lunged forward. She lay in the darkness trying to calm her breathing and control her pain. The sound of the water flowing past was soothing, and the boat sailed smoothly for what seemed like a long time before she heard Michael call out. The boat slowed and came to a stop.

Michael came into the hold as Erin struggled to sit up. With his help she was able to stand. She was shaking, her teeth chattering.

“Thank you for coming to me. I … I wouldn’t have made it back,” she said.

“I know,” he said. The boat was tied to a small dock on a slow-moving river with sandy banks and a dark forest beyond. Michael helped her off the boat, then he and Bruce half-carried her along the path to Michael’s cabin.

She looked up at him beside her. His face was filthy and sweaty, with blood splattered and smeared on his clothes, face and chin. She realized it was probably her blood. His gray eyes almost glowed in the darkness, and they looked hard and angry as they stared ahead.

Once inside they helped her lie down on the couch. The cabin looked just as she remembered from her first visit there, the time she had confronted Michael, thinking he was evil. It seemed like years ago. Michael lit the fire in the hearth and brought out three goblets and a jug of wine. He filled them and handed one to Bruce and one to her, then turned to face the fire with his back to them. He took a long drink. Erin sipped her wine. It went to her head immediately but helped ease some of the pain. Her body ached all over, and the wound on her back throbbed and burned.

Bruce sat down beside her and gently brushed some hair out of her face. “Any better?” He was dirty, too, splattered with mud and blood.

“I’m getting there,” she said.

He drained his goblet and set it down on a table.

“I hope I don’t look as bad as you two,” she whispered.

Bruce let out a big laugh, and Michael turned around and stared at her, his eyes wide. “You look like hell,” he said.

Bruce nodded, concern on his face. “You do, Erin. You’re as white as death.”

Michael frowned. “You were too close to looking like death permanently. What the hell happened out there, anyway? How did you end up trying to find that dreamer?” He paced to the window and back. “How did they all know you’d be there?”

Bruce stood staring down at Erin. She looked from one to the other, shaking her head. “I have no idea. I was just there. That’s the way it always is. I’m just there, and I know what I’m looking for. The dreamer. But this time I couldn’t find him.” She felt faint and dizzy, the pain came in waves, and her words came slowly. “I started in a rowboat in the middle of the lake. When I saw a light on shore, I knew I needed to go that way.” She drank again, and tears welled from her eyes. “I have no idea how they knew.”

“Hey, it’s all right. You’ll be all right,” Bruce said.

“I don’t know how this could have happened,” Michael said. “The darkness is too close. The mortifers know what we’re doing, where we’re going. Bruce, we’ve got to go to Domus about this.”

“Right. How much night is left?”

“Probably not enough. We have to help Erin recover first. She can’t go back with this wound still open.” He sat beside her and brushed some of her hair from her face. “You don’t look any better. Let me look at your back again.”

Erin spread herself out face down on the floor. She couldn’t stop shivering, even close to the fire. Michael took the bandage off.

“That’s an evil wound. Your whole back is battered.”

Michael pulled out his silver flask and poured more of its golden liquid over Erin’s wound, filling the room with a faint aroma of peaches. Then he poured some onto his hands, rubbed them together, and smoothed them gently over Erin’s back beneath her shirt. The aching of her bruises began to ease, she breathed a deep sigh, and her shaking began to subside. He continued to lightly caress her back. “This should help some.”

“I’m going to Domus while I still have some time,” Bruce said. “You can stay with her, Michael?” He rested his hand on Erin’s head for a moment, then was gone.

Michael sat beside her on the floor and continued to slowly rub her back. His warm hands eased much of the pain. She let out another sigh and opened her eyes.

“How did you find me?” she whispered.

“I felt you there.”

She nodded and closed her eyes again. “That feels wonderful.”

He poured more of the golden liquid over her wound and smoothed his hands over her back again, and then rested his warm palms flat on her back for a few minutes in silence. Erin’s breathing relaxed, and her back tingled where his hands touched her.

“Is it getting better?” he asked.

“Yes, so much.” She opened her eyes and rolled over to look at him.

He pulled his hands away and nodded his head. “Are you cold?”

“Yes.”

He picked up her jacket and helped ease her into it. As he fastened her buttons, she watched his face. His eyes were dark and serious, without the trace of a smile. She tried to stand but stumbled, so Michael helped her to her feet. He smoothed her hair back away from her face, and his hand continued through her hair to the back of her head. He pulled her to him and pressed her head against his chest. Erin closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his waist. She could hear the pounding of his heart and felt his body fill her with warmth.

“You’ll be going soon,” he said.

“Not yet,” she answered. “I don’t want to go.”

He kissed her lightly on her forehead. “Walk with care.”

The cabin seemed to fade into the darkness, and Erin felt her pillow under her head. She was aware of her smooth, easy breathing and the comfort of the cool, soft cotton sheets. For a while as she lay there she felt both Michael’s warm arms around her and her own blankets. She awakened gradually and finally opened her eyes. She remembered Michael, his warm electric touch, and his cabin. She searched her memory for more, but the rest of the dream faded away, vague and frightening, beyond her grasp.

Still dark out, Erin glanced at her clock, just three-thirty. Her body ached as she climbed out of bed. She shuffled into the bathroom, turned on the light and looked in the mirror. She had a faint bruise on her cheek. Pulling off her shirt, she looked at her body more closely. Remains of yellow bruises covered her torso, and on her lower back was a bright red wound about three inches long. A fresh, new scar. Fragments of the battle flashed into her mind, and all the hairs on her body rose as she trembled. Was she losing her mind? Where had that injury come from? Drops of sweat glistened on her forehead, and her breathing grew quick and shallow.
What was going on?
She stood still for a long time before shuffling back to lie on her bed.

Chapter 34

Erin woke to the sun’s warmth on her face, and the sounds of Matt and Gwen eating breakfast downstairs floated up to her. She looked at her clock—already nine, so she rolled to get out of bed, groaning in pain. Her back ached. She went into the bathroom and looked at her face in the mirror, remembering her middle-of-the-night visit; it seemed like just another dream. She pulled on her robe and went downstairs.

“Morning,” she said, and she started a pot of coffee. She sat down with the kids and ate some breakfast while they talked about the day they had planned.

“Jacob wants to come along. Is that all right?” Matt asked.

“That’s fine,” Erin said. “What about you, Gwen, do you want to bring a friend?”

“Yeah! Can I bring Julie?”

“Sure. We’ll give her mom a call. Gary’s coming today, too, so we’ll all have friends with us,” Erin said.

“What about that man from yesterday?” Gwen asked. “He was nice.”

“He is a nice man. But Gary asked first,” Erin said. “I thought you liked Gary.”

“I do like him. He’s so handsome,” Gwen said.

“Do you want to walk across the bridge today, hike on the trail, or what? Should we backpack our lunch and spread a blanket out on the big knoll?”

“Yes!” both Gwen and Matt said together.

“We can do it all,” Matt said.

“Okay. I’d better get things ready.”

She climbed upstairs to her room, still feeling sore, and turned on the shower. When she glanced in the mirror, she was surprised to see several faint yellow bruises on her shoulders and arms. She stared at her reflection and slowly turned around as the skin on the back of her neck prickled. More bruises covered her back, and the scar was really there, nearly three inches long, glaring at her. She ran her hand over it.

“How?” she whispered. Michael’s face flashed into her mind. Running through a black forest, the taste of dirt and blood. She held her breath and tried to remember more, but the memory slipped away. She shook her head and stepped into the shower.

*****

“Let’s get in the car, kids,” Erin called. They piled into the back of her SUV, and Gary got into the front beside her.

“We’re going to Deception Pass? Is it a cool place?” he asked the kids.

“You’ve never been there before?” Erin asked. She pulled out of the driveway and turned left onto the street.

“No. What’s it like?”

“It’s scary,” Gwen said.

“No, it’s not,” said Matt. “There’s a tall bridge that connects us to Whidbey Island. The pass is the water below—it’s called Deception Pass because the explorers who discovered it thought they found the Northwest Passage, but it wasn’t.”

“Why is it scary, Gwen?” Gary asked.

“The bridge is so big. And the water swirls fast way down below. If you fell, you’d be dead,” she said.

The highway wound its way through the dense forest of fir trees and climbed the hill that led to Deception Pass Bridge. Trees blocked most of the view of the water until they reached the top, where they had to slow to a crawl because of the many tourists walking on the side of the road. The bridge crossed to a small island, and from there, a longer section stretched across the pass to Whidbey Island, a narrow ribbon high in the air. It was crowded, so they drove across to a large parking area on the far Whidbey side. High above the Sound, cliffs on both sides of the long stretch of bridge plunged far down to meet the rushing, churning water. They parked, loaded up their backpacks with lunch, and took off. The plan was to walk across the bridge to the small island for a good look first, then return to the Whidbey side to hike the trail and find a good spot for their picnic.

Gwen and Julie were hesitant about walking out onto the high bridge, so Erin held their hands. Matt and Jacob ran on ahead to the middle and stood there looking down. When Erin, Gary, and the girls reached them, they all stopped and looked far below. The waters of the Sound swirled through the narrow channel of the pass—the current boiled, swift and dangerous. A small boat motored through, fighting the current to stay in the center.

As Erin gazed at the water below, a scene flashed into her mind of a bridge cracking beneath her feet and a young man’s face full of fear. She gripped the handrail and looked around. Tourists wandered in the sunshine, and she peered at them, wondering if she would see that face again, and where it had come from to begin with. Was it from another dream?

“You okay, Mom?” Matt asked.

Erin realized her hands were white from gripping the railing so hard. She made an effort to relax.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Gary looked at her. “Where’s your house from here?”

She pointed out the direction.

“This is amazing. I had no idea something like this was here. It’s so powerful—it’s almost frightening,” he said, putting his arm around her.

They continued walking to the far side of the bridge, then turned around and walked back across to the Whidbey Island side.