Warrior of the Ages (Warriors of the Ages) (21 page)

“This is your house? You’re keeping me prisoner at a house?”

“Yes.”

Silently she examined the huge cabin. Trying to see from her perspective, he wondered what she had been expecting. There was no way she could know she was his clan’s first prisoner. Covenant Keepers didn’t take prisoners. Beth’s eyes studied the rustic cabin with the log walls and wood shingled roof. They came to rest on the wide wrap-around porch with its homey and comfortable Adirondack chairs and welcoming benches. When Honor told her to go in, Beth turned her back on the house and crossed her arms, refusing.

Going to the trunk, Kahtar tugged Beth’s suitcases out. Four suitcases, a garment bag and two small toiletry bags were what she’d considered ‘basic necessities’. They were all covered in the same bright turquoise canvas, with her initials hand tooled into the leather handles. This adjustment would not be easy for her. Tugging three of the suitcases into his arms, with the garment bag draped over his shoulder, Kahtar headed for the wide porch steps.

Honor grabbed the rest of the bags and the two men marched up the porch steps. Stubbornly refusing to cooperate, Beth stood at the foot of the stairs, looking at the surrounding woods and fields. The crazed barking of Kahtar’s dog approached from the field behind the house. Looking over the neat summer dress that hugged Beth’s form, baring thin arms and far too much of her long legs, he warned.

“That’s my dog, Wolves, he’s not mean but he’s an idiot with no manners. He also tends to roll in manure.”

Smoothing the yellow fabric of her dress Beth skipped up the stairs in her heels just in time to duck behind the safety of Honor, as Wolves, tongue lolling and mismatched eyes rolling, hurtled up the stairs and against his master.

“Kahtar! Your front room!”
Honor Monroe’s second voice warned. Pushing the frantically thrilled dog reeking of something dead, off his legs, Kathar turned to see what was wrong with his front room. Beth stood in front of one of the many curtainless windows lining the porch. An expression of horror on her face as she studied the hundreds of old weapons hanging inside. They covered every wall and even the chimney of the stone fireplace, glinting wickedly in the light. Several old torture devices were on display, freestanding about the room like modern art from a horror museum. Dozens of varieties of harpoons were grouped together and a few stragglers were propped against windows, sharp points inches from her white face.

Beth turned, resolutely, to face the two warriors. Those knowing eyes darted between their faces as she asked, her voice frightened.

“Are you planning on killing me and burying me here?”

Honor’s mouth dropped open, his bright blue eyes more horrified than Beth’s. Those clear, summer sky eyes of Beth’s were on Kahtar’s boring for truth.
She believes we brought her here to kill her, but she still believes I would tell her the truth about it.

“No, Beth—I promise I am not planning to kill you, nor is Honor.”

“Torture then? Or brainwash?”

Honor interrupted, both his hands in the air, careful not to touch her, keeping his distance. As straightforward as Beth’s questions were, she looked terrified.

“Beth! Of course not, now you’re being ridiculous. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Not hurt me? You’ve held me prisoner in my own shop, not allowed me to make a phone call or get on my computer. You kidnap me and bring me to a house loaded with weapons from the pit of despair. We’re out here in the middle of nowhere, so no one would hear me scream.”

“Beth! Come on! Do I look like I’d hurt a woman?” Honor kept his hands up, looking affronted by the accusation.

Beth stared straight into Kahtar’s eyes.

“You look like you’ll do whatever it takes to satisfy your agenda, what is your law for a woman who knows too much?”

Honor opened his mouth and then closed it when Kahtar held a hand up to silence him.

“I did not bring you here to kill you.”

“But you would, wouldn’t you? If I don’t adopt your mantra?”

Opening his mouth to answer truthfully, it hit him that the truthful answer wouldn’t be pleasant. In all his time he’d never seen an adult Orphan adapt to clan life, if she didn’t adapt the clan would have no choice but to send her away. There was a place for those who didn’t obey. It took discipline not to look at her outrageous shoes at that moment, to answer calmly.

“What happens depends on you now.” That was true, evasive, but true.

“You said you’d tell me the truth.” Those knowing eyes watched him, waiting. Honor stood beside Beth in agony, hardly able to bear the truth.

Staring back into those eyes at that moment, with Wolves slinking and whining at his feet, something happened to Kahtar, something new and unexpected and terrifying. He couldn’t tell Beth the truth, because he didn’t know the answer. For the first time in his existence he didn’t know if he could fulfill his duty—not if it ever meant hurting this woman.

Those clear eyes turned away. “Don’t trouble yourself, soldier. I understand your silence.”

I doubt that, Beth White, because I surely do not.

IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE to enter that cabin. The wicked weapons crowding that room made Beth’s legs weak and her stomach churned with fear. They weren’t planning on killing her, but they were a cult and there were a lot of them. They had some sort of…she looked at her right hand. It was fine, slightly swollen. They had some sort of abilities. The memory of the hole in Kahtar’s hand made her feel even sicker, and she’d never actually seen what her bullet had done to his stomach.
What are they? Oh, my God, please help me, how do I get out of here?
Why hadn’t she left?

There had been so many clues that something was wrong with the town, and the way they all acted, it wasn’t normal. They had wanted her to leave, and she hadn’t. She was an idiot. In all her life she’d never been more frightened. Honor Monroe handed her the old iPod shuffle, and Beth jammed the buds into her ears and turned it on as loud as it would go, sinking blindly into a porch chair, she closed her eyes, but nothing could shut out what she’d seen in that house.

THERE WAS NO doubt that Beth was terrified, and near panicking. Scanning the goose-bumps on her arms and accelerated heart rate convinced Kahtar not to force her into the house. Sitting on the front porch, eyes closed and listening to music, she appeared to be pretending to be elsewhere.
She honestly thought we were going to kill her.
Wolves, waste of fur that he was, seemed to sense her anxiety. His flea bitten hide now stretched right over her fancy shoes. To Kahtar’s surprise Beth didn’t object, despite the bits of dead minnows stuck to the dog’s fur. Honor behaved as attentively as the dog, taking a seat right next to Beth and patting the back of her hand every few seconds.

Kahtar went inside to change into his usual tunic and leggings, grateful to shed the polyester blend of the police uniform. The natural fabrics that he’d worn for centuries felt good against his skin but he briefly hesitated before walking back onto the porch, concerned about upsetting Beth more with the unusual dress. Finally he shoved open the screen door, she’d seen him in his bloodied white funeral gear—it wasn’t likely anything else he wore could horrify her more than that.

To Kahtar’s surprise, Beth was now holding Honor’s hand, eyes still closed and headphones still on, she didn’t move as he approached, other than to squeeze tighter onto Honor’s proffered hand. Sitting on the porch steps, in the fading light, with a pile of soft cloths Kahtar quietly wiped down one of his swords. When the last vestiges of daylight faded, he lit a lantern and went back to his task. When he felt Beth stir, keeping his eyes on his task as he cleaned dried blood out of a filigree hilt, he said, “The water closet is the first shed past the back corner of the house, you can’t miss it. Take the lantern.”

There was no need to look up to know her reaction to an outdoor toilet, but he thought allowing her the small freedom might be reassuring. When her heels clicked past him with Wolves following, he shot Honor a look, warning the warrior to keep his seat. As soon as Beth and the lantern faded from view, Honor’s scan followed her. It left a dark shadow of pain in its wake as it brushed past him. The kid had no finesse when it came to scanning.

“Stop it, Monroe—give me a break and allow her some privacy. She’s not going to run off in the dark, I expect her break for freedom at first light. Go put her luggage in the house.”

“In your room?”

“Of course not!”

“It’s the only bed.”

That was true, Kahtar didn’t get overnight guests. He’d have to get her a bed, but in the meantime he motioned with his head to the main room. “The sofa is very comfortable, it’s dark now and she won’t see the walls.”

Honor scanned the walls of the great room with his mind. Kahtar felt the focused sweep over the various swords, pole arms, axes, clubs, and chain weapons. A shadow of the touch reflected painlessly onto him while it raked over the hodgepodge of armament.

“She knows they’re in there, Chief. Orphans have shades don’t they? Even I don’t want to sleep in there.”

It was true, unpleasant experiences did tend to stir up shades. Like vultures nipping at the wounded and flapping off so another could take a bite, they could be relentless.

“Just grab a blanket off the couch then, it’s going to be a warm night. She can sleep in the hammock down by the pond. You can head back to the Arc. Someone will be coming for the night shift.”

“Chief? I’d like to stay on with her if she’s going to run. Willet or Briggs would probably tackle her.”

Knowing his sardonic look was lost in the darkness Kahtar insisted, “Go home, Monroe, and wash up. Take the morning shift. No one is going to tackle her. When she runs, we’re going to let her.”

“Chief?”

“Let her run, where’s she going to go? She doesn’t know how to get out of a veil.”

“You don’t think she could get hurt?”

“Those heels she wears and Wolves’s stench are the only dangers under this veil.”