As long as I can remember, my mother put bones under the Christmas tree. No other kids I knew put bones under their Christmas tree, just presents, but my mother put bones under the Christmas tree every year. When I’d ask why, she would tell me that it was an old folk tradition, something my Granny had taught her, and that she’d teach me about it when I was older.
The underside of the tree would stay bare until the 22nd of December. After I was snug in bed, she would put them out like some horror movie Santa and I would wake up the next morning to the heap of bones under the tree. Each year there would be more: a new skull, an extra tibia, another femur. I’d ask her where they came from and she would always tell me that she would explain everything when I was older; that told me nothing. It was getting to the point where there were more bones than presents, but my mother made sure I always had plenty of gifts on Christmas morning. And it was usually just the two of us for Christmas. Some years it was me, mom, and her current boyfriend, but the relationship never lasted through Christmas, and the man was usually gone and out of the picture by the morning of; mom always said she had the worst luck with men, even my father. He ran off when I was three and we never saw him again. It was fine though, because I was perfectly happy with it just being me and my mother without anyone else to possibly destroy our Christmas. But I grew up, and I grew lonely—lonely for companionship, lonely for companionship that wasn’t my mother; I wanted romance. I had no idea what I was doing when it came to dating, but I met someone in town, we hit it off, got coffee a few times, saw a movie or two, and I thought it would blossom from there. Eventually, we did become serious, but my mother didn’t like him. I figured it had something to do with her personal feelings on relationships, considering her history, but after a few months, she seemed to warm up to the idea of him in my life. I was ecstatic because I was sure I was in love. But what did I really know about anything? “More bones, mom?” I asked as she walked into the kitchen on the morning of the 22nd. “Sadly, no.” She sounded off as she spoke with her back to me, her hands moving methodically as she prepared her coffee like she did every morning. “Too bad.” I was being sarcastic, but a felt rather awful because I knew what the bones meant to her. “Maybe, maybe I can go out in the woods and find you some? You know I have a knack for that.” I offered my services as a finder of weird and obscure things, but my mother waved her hand at me. “No need. I will find something to go under the tree.” She waved her hand at me before she turned around with coffee cup to her lips. “You’re sure?” I softened my tone a bit more. “Yes, baby. It’s not time for you carry on this tradition yet.” Her words sounded strange as she smiled wryly at me and left the kitchen. This mood was very unlike her, especially this time of year. There was always a severity to her demeanor when the weather started to get really cold, but she still kept a rather jovial air. But not now, not today. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t place it and she clearly wasn’t talking. I had to get to class or I would have hounded her about what was eating at her, but I figured I would just let her sit with herself for a few hours until I got home from class. Maybe then I would be able to coax it out of her. It was the last day before classes ended for the semester. They released earlier than usual and I was able to make it home while the sun was still high and the day still bright and somewhat cheerful, despite the ever graying thickness of impending snow clouds. The flakes would start to fall soon and I knew that the whole of the land would be stark white by the time the sun completely set; how appropriate for the Solstice. When I arrived home, the front door was slightly ajar and I immediately felt a sense of dread deep in my stomach. It was quickly replaced by a fluttering as my mother burst through the door before I could even make it up the stairs. Her hands were full of leather cords, a metal symbol hanging from the bottom of each. She didn’t say a word to me as she stepped up a ladder and began hanging them from fresh nails imbedded in the underside of the porch awning. “Mom, what are you doing?” I paused with my foot on the stairs as I gawked at her. She immediately stopped what she was doing and turned her head to look at me as if she had no idea I was there before I spoke. “Decorating.” She smiled at me, but something was so very wrong about that smile. “Mmhmm, for what? Because those don’t look like Christmas lights.” I pointed at one of the symbols forged in cold iron. It had a large loop at the top, where the iron had been carefully shaped and folded over itself, the ends neatly curled inward with a small spiral. “The Solstice. We’re doing something a little different this year.” My mother smiled at me again; this time the lie behind it was a little more convincing. “And what are those symbols?” I asked curiously. I felt like I had seen them somewhere before, probably in a movie, but I couldn’t quite figure out where. “They’re—they’re troll crosses. Christians put up crosses for Jesus, we put up troll crosses for the Solstice.” She nodded with another weird smile and went back to “decorating”. “The crosses are used at Easter, Mom, not Christmas. Baby Jesus was born on Christmas and died around Easter. If they’re hanging up crosses around other times of the year like you are hanging these—they’re probably trying to ward away evil like every haunted house movie.” I had a feeling and I definitely didn’t like it. My mother had hung the last of the troll crosses and stopped dead on her step of the ladder before she took a very deep breath and sighed. “Happy Solstice, baby. I made some cookies this morning after you left for class if you want some; they’re on the kitchen table.” She never looked at me as she climbed down off that ladder and calmly walked back inside. I was left standing there, one foot still on the stairs, alone. She had completely ignored what I said, dismissed me, and went about her business as if we had never had the conversation about the troll crosses. This was the first time I had ever seen them, at least in a way that I could remember, and there was something eerily unsettling about the dozens of iron sigils swaying in the icy breeze that had begun to blow. The snow was coming, and it looked to be heavy, so I convinced myself that my mother knew how bad the storm could be and put the crosses up to protect us from the impending blizzard. But I knew I was convincing myself of a lie. (*) I had fallen asleep. I couldn’t get my mother to talk to me about anything. After she had hung the troll crosses and disappeared inside, I found her in the kitchen making something in a pot on the stove before she transferred it to the iron one that she hung in the fireplace around this time of year. Usually she was making barley stew, but whatever this concoction was, it was not barley stew. When I asked about the recipe, she turned to me and smiled, but never said a word. I had never seen her act so bizarrely and I was starting to get concerned, but I couldn’t get her to communicate with me and in my frustration, I hid myself in my room with my headphones on and a new book. I had been studying so hard for my finals and spending long afternoons with the animals, preparing them for the bitter cold of winter, trying my best to pull my weight while still getting an education. So, inevitably I fell asleep. But I woke up abruptly for some reason. There was this sound—no, a sensation. A vibration in the air that was heavy, a low thrum that reverberated through every fiber of my being. It felt—large. Tall and hulking, intimidating, foreboding…threatening. I was instantly on the defensive as I leapt out of the bed, but quietly made my way to the door. It was partially open and I knew just the right speed to swing it in so that it made no sound. The weight of the vibration intensified as soon as the door was wide open and I could hear my mother whispering loudly in the living room. Her words should have made sense, but my brain couldn’t wrap itself around the sounds to translate them; all I knew is that they were angry and desperate. Then something replied. It was the vibration. It rippled through the air with such a weight that it felt like I was sinking; every limb, every bone, every organ felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. It spoke words that sounded more like earthquakes rumbling deep within the earth and I had to clutch my throat so that I didn’t make a choking sound, my whole body completely disoriented. Whatever it said caused my mother to cry out in strangled anguish. She was begging it in that tongue that I couldn’t understand. I forced myself to crawl to the top of the stairs. I could tell the conversation was getting heated and I had to see who she was talking to. It was either going to end in one of two ways: the vibrato would leave in a deliberate act of ending the conversation or it would escalate into violence and I didn’t know if I could even help her. My mother continued to beg and plead, but the vibration had had enough and it bellowed so loudly that I feared my skull would split in two. The front door blew open with a phantom gust, icy cold air blowing in swirls of downy snow. I had just made it to the top stairs in time to see the backside of something as it exited the house. There were three of them that I saw on the edge of the porch as the door slammed shut on its own and my mother’s sobs began to echo through the house. What I saw was impossible. I was still asleep; there was no arguing that. This had to be a dream, because the beings that I saw leaving my house angrily were heads taller than the seven foot Jul tree and just seeing their backsides as they left caused my whole body to involuntarily shudder in fear. I was in shock, I knew that feeling, but I wanted to wake up. My mother’s sobs should have woken me up… “Mommy?” I called out meekly from the top of the stairs. I wasn’t asleep. “Baby?” The sobbing stopped abruptly and I could hear her choking them back, “Did I wake you?” “You—you didn’t wake me.” I finally pulled myself to my feet and clung to the bannister for support as I carefully guided myself down the stairs. “No?” She appeared at the bottom before I had fully made it down. Her face was stark white save for the smears on her face, the streaks of dark red that also covered her fingers and hands. “Who were they, mom?” I wasn’t going to let her avoid me any longer. “Who was who, baby? Were you sleepwalking again?” She tried. She tried to change the subject and avoid telling me what was going on. “No…no. You’re not doing this to me. I know you’re just trying to protect me, but you’re not going to avoid telling me the truth. Do you think that you can just smile, bake me cookies, and eventually I’ll just stop asking questions? Mom, you know that we don’t do that; we’ve never done that. And especially now! I’m officially an adult and I think that you should be able to talk to me like one. What the hell is going on?” I gestured at the blood on her hands and the snow that had gathered on the floor just inside the threshold. She didn’t say anything. She just looked at me with bruised eyes, dark with lack of sleep and exhaustion. If she wasn’t going to explain, I was going to figure it out anyway and I began my descent of the stairs once again. This got my mother to finally move as she tried to prevent me from passing her at the bottom, but I asserted my size and tried to politely push past her. But she grabbed me roughly by the arms and tried to push me back up the stairs. I couldn’t let that happen and even in my surprise that she had put her hands on me like that, I was determined to discover what she wanted to keep me in the dark about. I didn’t mean to throw her like I did. It wasn’t a violent gesture, but my mother, in her tired state, lost her balance and fell against the stairs. She slid to the bottom, calling out for me to stop as I turned into the living room to a grizzly sight. The old rug that my mother had woven was soaked in blood. Laying atop it was what looked like a person, or had once been a person, in a hurried state of dismemberment. It was definitely a man based on the face that was staring back at me, glassy blue eyes now foggy in death. He looked like he had been hacked at in a frantic state; nothing was neatly in pieces and the flesh was torn as if gnashed at by wolves. At least I didn’t recognize him, because I probably would have done much more than turn and vomit right next to the Jul tree. “M—mom,” My voice didn’t sound like my own as it escaped my lips. I could feel the vomit still in the corners of my mouth and used the sleeve of my sweater to wipe it away; I didn’t care about how gross that was with the image before me. “You have to let me explain,” My mother came up behind me with a confidence in her voice unlike the way she had been speaking throughout the day. “Let you explain?” My voice pitched as I backed away from her closer to the tree, “There is a chopped up dead man on our living room rug, mom! What the fuck is going on?” I contradicted myself, but the shock had gotten to a point where I needed answers and I needed them now before I made the decision to run terrified from the house—terrified of my own mother. “I said I will explain, but I need you to not interrupt me. This is a long story that I have dreaded having to tell you for the majority of your life.” My mother paused, motioning for me to follow her to the kitchen. It was as if she just realized that she was covered in someone else’s dried blood. As much as I didn’t want to follow, my feet had other plans. She went straight to the sink and adjusted the handle for warm water before she began to speak, “I don’t know what you saw besides the man in the living room, but I am going to start from the beginning and try to get it all out while I can.” “When you were three, you started to get headaches. We didn’t realize that was what they were at first, only that you were inconsolable most of the time and we had to go through months of testing before we determined what the problem was—you had a brain tumor.” My mother spoke loud enough for me to hear her over the running water. A brain tumor? I had a brain tumor? How had she never told me this before? “I can see you wanting to ask questions, but I need you to wait. We discovered the tumor and soon after the doctors told us that it was malignant and basically gave you no more than six months to live. It was inoperable and there was nothing they could do—we basically were waiting for you to die.” My mother had finished washing her hands, wiped down her face, and had now come to stand by the kitchen table. She made me sit with my back to the living room and took a chair across from me as she went on. “Your father and I had already separated when I found out about the tumor. I met up with him to let him know, but his only concern was how much it was going to cost him in hospital bills to keep you alive just a bit longer. I should have killed him right then, but I’m glad I didn’t.” My mother had a wistful look on her face, but she continued on. “Your Gran was not happy about this, which was to be expected, but what she suggested to me was ludicrous and out of the question.” My mother had taken a cigarette from her purse hung on the back of the chair and lit it; she never smoked in the house. “What did Granny think you should do?” I couldn’t help myself. “That I make a pact with the frost etins.” Do what now? “Mom. What are you talking about?” As if the dead man in my living room wasn’t crazy enough, I needed just a bit more insanity in my life. “The frost etins will make pacts, deals, with humans for the right price. She suggested that I make an offering to the etins and ask them for aid. I didn’t think they’d show; I never thought they’d come, but they did. They accepted my measly offering of cooked meat and they came. I pleaded my case and they accepted that too. They said they could spare your life, but it would come at a price.” My mother paused again, this time with her eyes fixed on me. She didn’t blink, she didn’t twitch, she just stared. “What was the cost?” I had to know and I knew that I had to pull it out of her. “Death was coming for you and the only way to stop it from taking you was with yearly offerings. The etins froze the tumor, keeping it from growing any further, keeping it from affecting your brain. In return I was to hold a blot every Solstice, their time of the year, and sacrifice a life for every year that they added on to yours.” My mother’s stoic expression broke and silent tears began to well in her eyes. “A human life?” I thought I understood that much. “A human life. A human life would be sacrificed, the flesh given to the etins as offerings, the blood to aid another year of life, and the bones—” “And the bones ended up under the tree.” A shiver crept up my spine as the sudden realization of the bones that had been a norm of my holidays since I could remember belonged to once living breathing people that my mother had—murdered. “You KILLED people?” I asked, tears now hot on my cheeks. Of course she killed someone, he was dead in the other room, but I hadn’t expected multiple someones. “I had to, baby. If I didn’t, you died. Your heartless wretch of a father was the first to go, a decision that I didn’t need to take time to make. The bones were placed under the tree, one from each sacrifice, as a warning and ward to death: your dues are still being paid and your life extended. There are fifteen under the tree right now.” My mother started to relax as she lit up another cigarette. “But I’m nineteen and you couldn’t find a new bone for this year.” I now understood why she had been so upset this morning; she couldn’t find a sacrifice in time. I didn’t have time to mull over the revelation that my father never actually ran off… “Not exactly. I had no problem finding the offering, my fear was that it wouldn’t be accepted.” The tears started again as my mother blew out a huge puff of smoke. She was making me want one… “And based on what I heard, even though I couldn’t understand it,” I took a ragged breath, “It wasn’t accepted.” “Always so intuitive, you are. No, they didn’t accept it. That was a wasted sacrifice, but it also wasn’t my best work.” My mother’s words sounded calloused, but I was trying to see this situation from her perspective. “I don’t understand. Why accept it for this long and then all of a sudden—” Why let me die now? What was the point? Why wasn’t this sacrifice as good as the others? Panic had set in that I could possibly die at any moment without being able to defend myself. “Baby, shhh. No, calm down. They didn’t rescind the pact, they just won’t accept the sacrifice and offering from me.” My mother had risen from her chair and come to embrace me, to comfort me in my anxious state. “Why? Did they think you cheated them? Do they want more?” I couldn’t comprehend what I was feeling. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want any more to die just to keep me alive. The internal confliction was causing my throat to tighten and my hands to shake. “Stop. Take a deep breath and listen to me.” My mother gently took my face in her hands and commanded me to look at her. “Those men, all those boyfriends that I had through the years—I chose them because they were a waste. They were repeat offenders: abusing women, hurting animals, manipulators, gas-lighters. They were men who were never going to learn and I chose them for this reason. The ice etin love the taste of scum like them; devouring all the trash that pollutes the worlds. We, me and the etins, did the worlds a favor and it saved your life. But I am only responsible for that life while you are still a child. Laws are different here than they are where the etins are from, so they let me be responsible for you just a bit longer…” My mother was clearly trying to stay strong, but I could hear the breaks in her voice. “What are you trying to tell me, mom?” I had a sudden sense of dread wash over me. “I made fifteen sacrifices in your favor. I took fifteen lives, sixteen, but fifteen lives so that you could have fifteen more. But part of the contract states that when you become an adult, the pact is transferred to you. You are responsible for the lives taken to save your own. That is why the etins didn’t accept my offering and they were firm on that.” My mother’s face hardened as she spoke those last words. There was nothing she could do. The minute she made the fifteenth pact last year, right after I turned eighteen, the responsibility became mine. But she had never told me, she had tried to carry my weight without letting me know there was even a burden to be carried and I knew—I knew that she was holding tremendous guilt for that now, because in trying to keep me from becoming a murderer like her, it may have been the one thing that actually killed me. “So, I have to kill someone to get another year?” I wanted to be straight on this and make sure that I understood completely. “Yes. There’s no real discrimination, but the dirtier the soul, the better. That doesn’t matter though. I’m going to go through your Gran’s old books and find a loophole, find some way that you won’t ever have to walk this road.” My mother broke again and took my hands, assuring me that she would make it right. But I thought about it. I thought about all the sacrificing she had done to keep me alive, to love me, to educate me, to send me to school and protect me to the point that she never really got a chance to be happy outside of us. She deserved to be happy. And me being dead wouldn’t make her happy… “No, mom. You’re not fixing this. You don’t have to protect me anymore. You’ve done so much for me, sacrificed so much that I can’t even imagine, and I want you to be able to relax, to be happy, to not have to worry about me. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do and sometimes they are hard and sometimes people won’t agree with it, but I believe what you did was right. No one will miss those sorts of people, you get to finally live your life, I can live mine—the worlds are a better place. But it’s a heavy price, a whole life for just one year,” I hesitated in my confident speech. “But a year for you would do a world of difference for good when they will never do a single good thing for the world in their lifetime. If you choose this route, you are committed to the pact. The moment you decide that you won’t make a sacrifice is the moment you forfeit your life to them. And if you’re going to do this; you have to choose a sacrifice soon before Jul comes to an end and you don’t have long.” My mother bolstered my confidence and her own. This would be a big decision to make. “You know you were right about him. I painted a pretty picture for you so that you liked him, but—but he’s not a good man. The things he’s done to me,” I closed my eyes, trying not to recall the trauma that I held in regards to my boyfriend, the man that I couldn’t get away from, the man I thought I loved, “And I’m not the first. I can’t get away, mom. I’ve tried. The fact that I was able to come here was a miracle because he wanted me to stay at the apartment with him for Christmas, but I told him that it was tradition and I had to be here. I had to sneak out while he was sleeping and I’m surprised he hasn’t come looking for me…maybe it’s the snow.” I rambled on, not sure where I was going with this. “What are you trying to say, baby? Are you trying to tell me that you want your first sacrifice to be him?” My mother narrowed her eyes at me. I could see the pure hatred and rage behind them for the man I thought I loved. “We don’t have much time, do we?” I spoke with no emotion. The decision was made. “Good choice; the etins will be pleased.” My mother kissed my forehead, “Now, get back to bed while I clean the mess up in the living room. We have a lot of work to do in just a few short days. Oh, by the way, Merry Christmas.” My mother handed me a cookie from the plate on the table before grabbing the box of garbage bags and the mop. “Merry Christmas, mom.” I smiled, shaking my head as I took a bite of the cookie. She had made enough sacrifices for me and it was due time that I returned the favor for her.
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Sometimes I write more than fiction. Sometimes I get provoked by the sense of knowing and my words run away from me with a supposed epiphany... I wrote this some time back in 2018 when the coven had picked up again and we were trying to figure out the direction we were going. I totally forgot that I had written it until I came across it this morning and felt the need to share. A lot has been weighing on my mind lately in regards to my practice, my faith, and my spirituality.
I started off as calling myself witch and then Wiccan for lack of a better term (it was all I knew at the time and most of the information found on the internet by 14 year old me revolved around Wicca) and all of that slowly evolved into classifying myself as a Green Witch, a Pagan, and then eclectic Pagan…well, you get the drift. I think it happens to us solitaries a lot: we start off as one thing and as we grow and learn more about our craft and the mythologies surrounding it as well as the pagan paths that often converge with it, we change what we call ourselves. Even when I strayed away from using the term “Wiccan” in my practice, and because it was based on what I taught myself, I was still technically a Wiccan. Most of the traditions that fall under the umbrella of witchcraft and Paganism are inherently Wiccan at this point. Even if they don’t want to be referred to as that (“Oh, I’m not Wiccan, I follow a traditional Celtic witchcraft tradition.”) they still kind of are with a few exceptions (Heathenry, Stregheria, Brujeria, Pagan Reconstructionism, etc.) But even a few of those are more folk witchcraft (centering around the common people of a certain locale or culture) or, in the case of Heathenry and Reconstructionism, they are based on historical references and documentation of ancient Pagan cultures. I hear people claim that Wicca is “traditional witchcraft” as if Wicca has been around for hundreds of years, but as we know it, it hasn’t. Sure there are things in the practice of Wicca that may have basis in ancient traditions, but most people don’t realize that like most major “religions”, Wicca is Syncretic. This means that Wicca is a blend of many things and isn’t “Traditional” in most senses of the word. Its founder, Gerald Gardner, wanted to revive the “Olde Ways” of the craft and Paganism and blended ceremonial magick with fertility cult practices to form a nature religion with the flavor of olde world paganism. He blended many things to create something new, as do a LOT of modern religions. The problem with trying to get back to our roots as Pagans is that there isn’t a lot that we actually know about those practices or people. Sure we have archeologic findings and documentation from Christian monks about our ancient peoples, but a lot of what we know is speculation and theory or written by another religion that is probably partially from their perspective. Pagans don’t have a “Good Book” and didn’t write things down like modern religions do because most of them were probably illiterate or had their own form of language that is long dead and gone. But I’m getting carried away and straying from my point to this. Let’s back up a bit. I see a lot of arguing in the Pagan community about “This isn’t how it was.” from Reconstructionists or “This IS traditional and comes straight from my ancestors.” when in reality we are piecing a lot of things together information wise to form our new religions. Even if you are trying to make it just like our ancestors did, it won’t ever be the same. I wanted to start my own tradition, something that revolved around the Fae and what we know of them, incorporating the olde Gods of Ireland that wasn’t “Wiccan” based, but even after I wrote the outline to it and thought “This seems very not-Wiccan”…it was still pretty damn Wiccan. The way I casted the circle, the way I called the quarters, a lot of the terminology was Wiccan based, because that is what a lot of us know about witchcraft and magick. Our ancestors almost most certainly didn’t do things that way and I started to realize that even in my want to not be Wiccan anymore , I was still holding on to that religion. So, I started doing more research, reaching deeper and learning more about all magickal practices (as I had been doing for years) and realizing that Wicca wasn’t even really what a lot of its practitioners thought it was. Just like I stated earlier that Gardner drew a lot of his knowledge from ceremonial Magick and Aleister Crowley, a lot of what was blended with Wicca is just that. It’s all about ceremony and structure and following these set guidelines and rules. Even when it evolved and other traditions like Alexandrian, Feri, Dianic, etc. stemmed from it, the practices at their core were still very much like Gardner wrote. I was reading the Witches Rune the other day (thinking this was less Wiccan than the Wiccan Rede) but it wasn’t and as I really looked at the real version I saw things that stuck out to me as very NOT “nature religion”. This caused me to have an existential Pagan crisis that was a long time coming and bubbling just under the surface. Let me give the example that caused this total Ah Ha! moment that I am trying to get to. Darksome Night and shining Moon, East then South, then West then North, Harken to the Witches Rune, Here I come to call thee forth. Queen of Heaven, Queen of Hell, With Horned Hunter of the night, Lend your Power unto my Spell, Work my Will by Magick Rite. By all the Power of Land and Sea, By all the might of Moon and Sun, As I do Will so mote it be, Chant the Spell and it be done: (Chant the following thrice) Ecko, Ecko Azerak, Ecko, Ecko Zomelak, Ecko, Ecko Cernunnos, Ecko, Ecko Aradia. The ending in its entirety is actually: Eko! Eko! Azarak, Eko! Eko! Zomelak, Zod-ru-kod e Zod-ru-koo Zod-ru-koz e Goo-ru-mu Eo! Eo! Oo…Oo…Oo! Now, there are some traditions that leave out the Eko! Eko! Part, but a lot of Celtic based Wiccan traditions (which is where I’ve seen this most) use this as a way to raise energy during ritual. Apparently Gardner passed this on to Doreen Valiente who then passed it on to Janet and Stuart Farrar, but there doesn’t seem to be an actual source where it originally came from save for an article published in a 1921 edition of the journal Form by J. F. C. Fuller, on "The Black Arts", reprinted in The Occult Review in April 1926. But I got confused…I know who Cernunnos and Aradia are, but who the hell are Azerak and Zomelak? There are many versions of the Eko! Eko! Chant that use various known Gods like Isis and Osiris in place of Cernunnos and Aradia, but upon further research, I couldn’t find any deities named Azarak or Zomelak (and there are various other versions where these names have different spellings, but are still very similar.) Out of curiosity I did some more research and found several articles claiming that these names were possibly Arabic in origin and were related in context to something that was most likely used in High or Ceremonial magick and were possible names of Arabic or Middle Eastern deities or entities. This is a prime example of syncretism in Wicca, but do people know who they are calling upon when they use this chant to raise energy? I asked a friend about the names and she told me that they were deities of old, or part of the “Ancient and Shining Ones”, but there is no information about them anywhere save for this specific chant. Now, I don’t know about you, but I am not going to call upon some entity that I don’t know anything about and I don’t know what/who will come if I call them. But I have seen it in traditions where this rhetoric is taught and there is a heavy emphasis on book learning from Wiccan authors, memorization, and going through the structured motion of rituals. That is all well and good, but for me it leaves something lacking. And here we finally come to my point of this whole article/post/rant… I think we as witches, we as practitioners of magik, we as Pagans tethered to nature have forgotten about what all of this really means. Let’s throw witchcraft out the window for a moment. Witchcraft will always evolve and is different all over depending on your location, culture, and the evolution of information and the addendum and blending of crystals, chakras, karma, etc. into the common practice of the witch as of late. Instead, let’s get down to the roots of being a Pagan. Being a Pagan could definitely mean different things to different people and we are as varied and vast as the sands in the ocean and the stars in the sky. I have encountered many a Pagan at this point in my life. I’ve come across those that are hardcore traditionalists, strict Wiccans, and many an eclectic and I find that those who are eclectic are the ones I connect to. Why? Because usually the eclectics use their gut, their intuition, their sixth sense when it comes to their practice more than they rely on what a High Priest/Priestess has taught them. Not that being taught by someone who knows their stuff is bad, but sometimes our minds and instincts are the best teachers and we tend to ignore that in favor of swallowing loads of information that is fed to us without fully questioning what we are imbibing and sometimes not really digesting the information, but instead regurgitating what we have been taught without really feeling it, without really knowing. Here’s an example that I have run into being a Lokean. In the Heathenry community (not so much seen in Asatru and things are changing) Loki is a taboo. Your “average” Heathen will brutally insult and make fun of those Pagans who have an affinity for Loki, even resorting to calling names and being plain nasty. On the nicer end, they will claim that there were never any cults of Loki (historically, but they aren’t entirely correct as some evidence may have been found) and that worshipping him as a God is silly and that Lokeans are Lokeans because of Tom Hiddleston…wrong. These sorts of groups tend to rely on historical documentation to recreate their modern paganism and usually have no use or love for UPG (Unverified Personal Gnosis), but I think that is absurd and silly. I believe that long ago before we wrote everything down, before the days of the internet and self-proclaimed adepts, we had UPG. Our relationships with the Gods were personal, even if we were part of a large group or “cult”, we all still have a personal relationship with the Gods and I think that is a HUGE part of being a Pagan. I used to have to look up anything and everything when it came down to my practice: what makes a good offering for this God/deity, what correspondences go along with this certain God, what attributes are they associated with, etc. All of this information is compiled on the internet, but where did it come from? How do I know that it is accurate? I can look at multiple articles about the same deity or herbal correspondence and get varied answers depending on the person who wrote it, and most likely depending on the UPG. I know that Loki likes when I give him whiskey and candies, other Lokeans are asked for different offerings from Him because it depends on the relationship they have. I think what I’m trying to get at is that, while modern tradition is nice, I think the true tradition is innate in those of us that are called by the Gods or drawn to Paganism. The rituals and traditions of old are running through our veins, our blood, our heart and soul. We know how things once were; we know how to connect with the Divine even without fancy books or teachers. We have to trust our gut, listen to our intuition. If you feel like an offering needs to be made to a Deity, but it isn’t in any sort of text…do it. If your gut tells you to do your ritual differently from anything you have ever experienced before, do it. If you feel like you need to do ANYTHING that isn’t the way that it is done in the books…do it. You are a vessel for the divine. These instincts, these gut feelings and intuition are nudges from the Divine, from spirit. They are guiding you internally and I feel like we get lost a lot in strict structure and tight frameworks when we need to let go a little and let chaos take over a bit. After all, chaos is where we came from when the Worlds came into existence. It’s ok to question things, it’s ok to do things differently from others, it’s ok to resist tradition and do your own thing if that’s how you feel. And it’s ok not to as well. It’s ok to be traditional or eclectic. But make sure to stay true to yourself and continue to question things, continue to learn, and continue to grow. That’s the message I am getting from the Divine and I plan on living my truth…will you? “You WHAT?” Rogue’s voice pitched as she paced back and forth in the kitchen.
“You wanted to know what happened! I was too tired last night, but I’m telling you now.” Harlow huffed. “What were you thinking, Harley? Four vampires in one night? You never mentioned that you made yourself some pretty nasty enemies for no bloody reason and after the stupid decision that got Robin and Shane killed. You can’t be a hypocrite like that.” Niridia chided her. “I know. It was dumb and impulsive; I didn’t think and acted out of anger and frustration. I should have been honest with you, but I didn’t think it was a problem. Clearly, I was wrong.” Harlow felt awful and it was evident in her voice. “We know how you are, lovey. But that shit…that was stupid. We could be a target now even if those two vampires got torched. And then there’s your new undead friend—you’re really popular lately.” Rogue seemed to be angrier than Niridia…or maybe it was disappointment. “I shouldn’t be in charge of anything right now. My head isn’t on right more than usual. Everything is just starting to get to me and that’s no excuse to be reckless, but the damage has been done. I just need to stay put for a while and not go out because it’s my scent they are tracking and I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else’s death.” Harlow admitted that she wasn’t having an easy time existing at the moment. “You do too much, Harlow. Too much for others, but what do you do for you? When you feel like you need some self-care, you go out and get into trouble instead. Maybe you do need to stay in for a while and take care of yourself, worry about the people here and let others worry about supply runs and hunts.” Rogue spoke honestly before she held out her hand. “You want my key, don’t you?” Harlow whined. “Yeah. Because if I don’t take it, what’s going to keep you from skipping off into forever midnight and bringing back vampires for dinner? It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I know you don’t trust yourself.” Rogue empathized with her. “At least I’m not this impulsive when it comes to other people being involved so I think that’s a positive.” Harlow joked as she fished her key from her pocket and handed it over to Rogue. “Right. Now you’re housebound, but that’s ok. You can help Niridia because she’s definitely going to need it now and I’ll take your place doing the outside stuff. You can work on integrating the new members with the old. You’ve been through a lot in the last week, my love. Take it easy, ok? We’ll make sure everything is handled.” Rogue took Harlow by the face and kissed her forehead. “Remember what happened last time you told me to take it easy, Rogue? That’s how all of this started.” Harlow laughed through tears that had welled in the corner of her eyes. Rogue gave a sad laugh in response as she caressed Harlow’s cheek and replied, “You’re right so maybe don’t take it too easy, ok? I know you like busy work so you can do inventory and maybe—listen to some music?” Harlow’s face lit up, “Music? What do you mean? Are you going to play the organ for me while I work?” “No, smartass, we found a phonograph. We were clearing out space to prepare for more bodies and found it in a locked closet in the basement. There are a few jazz albums, some classical productions and a couple others that I can’t remember. But we checked and it works rather well." Niridia added. “Music. Music is a great way to pacify the urge to get in trouble. Show me how to use it? I’ve never played with one of those things before.” Harlow felt much better knowing that she had something to stimulate her while she worked and kept herself together. “Of course, lovey. We can go now, get you all set up and then you can just relax. No hard work for you. I don’t know how to say this without sounding like I am patronizing you.” Rogue pursed her lips and exhaled through them. “I’m on punishment without being on punishment. I know you’re not treating me like a baby, you’re just keeping me out of trouble. You’re holding me accountable for my actions…isn’t that what Sister Agnes used to say?” Harlow let Rogue know there were no hard feelings and she understood. “Ugh, don’t bring up Sister Agnes, but yes. We’re helping you hold yourself accountable because we think you’re too tired to do it on your own. Maybe try and take a nap later because I know you aren’t sleeping like you should.” Niridia made a suggestion that actually sounded quite good. “I’ll sort and stack for a few hours, listen to some jazz, do lunch, and then a nap after. I really wish we could get the hot water working again because I would love an actual bath.” Harlow complained mildly as the three finished up cleaning the kitchen after breakfast and walked out into the sanctuary. “Maybe someone in this new group understands the complexity of heating and plumbing or just handiness in general. Besides you and Shane, we don’t really have anyone that knows that stuff and you don’t know anything about this specifically.” Rogue was just making a suggestion, but may have hit a nerve. “And now no Shane. I’m sure someone is good with a wrench and a hammer in this group. Or I hope at least…I’m really tired of sharing bathwater and by the time it gets to me it’s always so cold. I know that there are much bigger issues in life right now, but sometimes it’s the little things.” Harlow lamented. “And now it’s just cold all around because we don’t have the ability to heat all that water and keep everyone warm and cozy in here. It’s going to be cold for the next few months regardless.” Niridia added, waving at someone as they passed a group sitting in the front pews. Harlow caught this slight action and calculated that the wave was intended for Peter because he was the only one in the group who had a huge smile plastered on his face with darting eyes in their direction. “Niridia, already?” Harlow hissed, bringing herself close to Niridia to hide the fact that she was still watching Peter like a hawk. Niridia giggled, “Oh, Harlow, stop. We just started talking while you were rescuing the others and he’s really sweet. We have a lot in common too: we both want to move to Italy, we love German chocolate, and neither of us have had sex in over two years.” “Good grief, Niridia.” Harlow tried to hold a straight face, but her effort had Rogue laughing and soon it had engulfed all three. “Just because we’re in the apocalypse doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun.” Niridia chirped playfully. “Funny,” Harlow scoffed, “Remy said something to that effect the other night.” “Oh, did he now? No—did you two fuck?” Rogue’s face lit up with delight. “Ha, no. No, we didn’t. Not going to lie and say that it didn’t come up, because somehow it did, but nothing happened.” Rogue waved her hands in defense. “That explains it then. That’s the look of sexual tension.” Rogue clicked her tongue. Harlow raised a brow in question. “The way he’s been looking at you since we left the kitchen. The minute he saw you there was this—his body just tensed up and I bet his eyes dilated. It’s like you had him under a spell.” Rogue wiggled her eyebrows at Harlow. They had almost made it to their exit of the sanctuary when Harlow glanced back at the group where Peter sat and saw Remy, his eyes trained on her, head cocked to the side in thought. She subtly waved at him with a finger and he realized that she could see him and smiled, waving back with a flick of his hand. “Yeah, he’s smitten. But I don’t blame him. I’ve known you most of my life and I’m still smitten with you.” Rogue made kissing sounds before she planted one on Harlow’s cheek and they all started laughing again. Things felt good, like they were going in the right direction, but Harlow had this sense that something bad was looming just around the corner. (*) Harlow spent the next several days organizing all their supplies and stocks, prepping rooms, and tending to Adrianna. Niridia could have handled her, but Harlow felt responsible for some reason, and made sure to keep her neck clean and bandaged for the first day before she let it breathe. Adrianna was still unconscious and Harlow wondered if she would ever wake up. She had lost a lot of blood and the gash was pretty big, but it wasn’t fatal. It looked like it was healing and there was no sign of infection, but the woman just wouldn’t wake up and they needed her to so she could get some water and food in her. “Maybe this will help you. Music can send you on a journey, or it could ground you and bring you back to reality.” Harlow wheeled in the phonograph and positioned it next to Adrianna’s bed in the dining hall turned infirmary. She put on a record of classical music, one featuring the likes of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, and Chopin, and let it play softly near Adrianna’s head. “One of us will come back and check on you in a few hours. Just try and listen the music and let it bring you back, ok?” Harlow brushed the damp hair away from Adrianna’s face and checked her temperature. She may have had a fever at one point, but it had broken now. Harlow left her to peacefully enjoy the music and headed to the kitchen to wash up and start prep for dinner when the party came back from a rushed supply run that Rogue planned last minute. They were still short on blankets and bedding as well as fresh winter clothing, and needed to go shopping. The first to enter the sanctuary was Remy and it didn’t look good. He had fresh marks on his face and his clothing was dirty and speckled with blood. Harlow gasped silently before rushing over to him to tend to his wounds. “What happened? Do you need medical aid?” Harlow asked him, taking his arm to steer him to a pew. “Ran into another group of humans and it was not pretty. Two of them got killed and a few others were most certainly injured, but several got away. We knew the blood shed was going to draw attention, so we got out of there. We did get a few blankets and stuffed our parkas with all the folded sheets we could find, though. Probably better to not go out for a bit and I think Rogue agrees with me.” Remy groaned as Harlow sat him down. “Let me take a look at your face.” Harlow started to fawn over Remy, but he grabbed her hands. “Mostly superficial, mon ami. The parties on the receiving end were not so fortunate, however. I am fine, I can assure you.” Remy lowered her hands, but still held on to them. “Just worried about you, that’s all. Everyone else ok?” Harlow diverted her concern to the others. “Banged up like me, Silver has a bad cut on his leg, but Rogue is taking him to the infirmary. Everyone is all in one piece. How’s Adrianna?” Remy answered and asked, now rubbing his thumb on the underside of Harlow’s hand as they conversed. “Everything looks great, but she just won’t wake up. I dragged the phonograph in there and put on some music, hoping I can bring her back to reality. My assumption is that the unconsciousness is not due to a medical issue, but a mental one. I think she’s traumatized, in shock, and this is how she is protecting herself.” Harlow gave her opinion, slowly removing her hands from Remy’s. “That’s a good diagnosis. The whole thing was incredibly violent and she was just trying to help the other two, but those foutu New Borns are almost impossible to deal with. It got its teeth in her and just started to tear; no etiquette, as awful as that sounds. Oscar was able to lead it away with a bloody hand and I got Adrianna out of there. I guess it got distracted by the bodies of the other two and Oscar was able to get back in the bank. I guess two humans were enough food because they took the bodies and dragged them off to God knows where.” Remy gave her the summary of what happened right before she found them. It got her thinking. “You know, it’s strange. These New Borns don’t feed like normal vampires; there’s a difference in the marks they leave behind. Older ones leave clean punctures and just drain the body to a point. But these infants aren’t clean; no etiquette like you said. I don’t know enough about vampires to tell you if all newly transformed are like that, but I feel like they’re not. There’s something specific about these. Our men were turned by an older vampire, but Shane killed Robin and he was so torn up we didn’t see that he too had a puncture on his neck and showed signs of tissue change and blood in the eyes. Both had been deliberately turned and Shane was so ravenous that he basically killed what would have been another New Born because they are just programmed to be violently psychopathic. What the hell is going on?” Harlow just word vomited her theory on the topic that had been weighing heavily on her mind for days. “I wish I could tell you. Why are they like this? Why make so many? Do vampires regularly feed of their own kind? Because there aren’t going to be any humans left at this rate. None of it makes sense to me, cher.” Remy related to her. “Harlow! Remy! She’s awake!” Rogue’s voice interrupted their conversation and caught their attention. “Adrianna?” Remy queried as he got up from the pew and Harlow helped him hobble to the infirmary. Indeed, Adrianna was awake, lying on the side that didn’t have the wound. Her eyes were open and she was just listening to the music, humming along with heavy lids. “I came in and she was just rolled on her side, eyes open and quietly humming along to Chopin.” Rogue pointed out, not sure what to do exactly. “Let me talk to her. Remy come with me.” Harlow took Remy’s hand and led him over to the cot. “Hey, Adrianna. How are you feeling?” Remy squatted down next to her. Her eyes never looked at him and stayed trained on nothing. She didn’t say anything, but she did make a throaty hum that sounded like a response. “Are you in any pain, Adrianna?” Harlow mimicked Remy, gently taking her hand to try and elicit a response. The woman’s eyes immediately shifted to Harlow as she curled her fingers around hers and squeezed. “Even though I just looked, let me lay you back and check your neck.” Harlow stood and gently shifted Adrianna to lie on her back. It looked good. No redness, no puffiness or oozing. Some crusted blood and bruising of the skin, but it was healing and healing well. “You look good. I can give you something for pain and you need to try and drink some water. We’ve got hog bones in the icebox so I’ll make you some broth since you haven’t eaten in days.” Harlow spoke with her gently, trying to make her feel at ease. Adrianna closed her eyes and took a couple deep breaths before she croaked, “Name?” “Oh, Harlow. That’s Rogue with the short hair and Niridia who I didn’t know was even in here.” Harlow pointed the two out, “And you’re now at St. Andrews.” “Everyone make it safe?” Adrianna struggled to talk. “Besides Ottis and Cameron, yes. Harlow showed up right when we needed her and got you stitched up better than I ever could.” Remy vouched for Harlow’s work. Adrianna grunted, “Eight out of ten is better than nothing.” She readjusted herself on the cot to stare out the window on the opposite wall. Clearly, she wasn’t ready for heavy conversation. “Get some rest. I’ll bring you some water and get to work on the broth.” Harlow patted Adrianna’s arm and left her to sit with Remy while she retrieved a glass of water. Poor thing had been uprooted without her knowledge and was probably struggling to readjust. She needed to get her strength back so she could meet the others and get acquainted. “Water and some morphine to help with the pain.” Harlow handed Adrianna the water and held up the syringe to show her that medication was administered through a needle. “I’m not afraid of needles, if you didn’t notice.” Adrianna’s voice sounded better after her first sip of water. Indeed, the woman was covered in tattoos, one of which was now cut down the middle due to the gash in her neck. Harlow quickly administered the medicine after cleaning a spot on the woman’s arm. When she was done, she excused herself entirely, leaving the phonograph behind with company that needed it more than she did. Photo by Victoria Palacios on Unsplash "If a tree falls in the forest..." They traveled in total silence for some time with Rune keeping lookout and Vargr running ahead occasionally as scout. There were more fallen trees than the first time he had run ahead and he wondered what was triggering them. The same thought also crossed Rune’s mind, especially because they clearly had missed their mark since there was nothing left behind after they fell; though, something could have possibly been fast enough to get away. But there was nothing to identify which trees were set to fall, if any were still standing. No runic markers or dangling amulets, just regular trees as far as the eyes could see.
“Are you looking for something, Rune?” Einar finally broke the silence. Rune dreaded him speaking again anytime soon because she was still agitated with him. It didn’t hurt to let him in on what she was doing…then maybe he would go quiet again. “Looking for anything out of place on a magical level. When you last saw us here, we were continuously getting turned around, which should be impossible, but it was because of amulets hung high above the trail between trees. I took them down and we were able to escape the forest.” Rune elucidated. “The Linnormr can’t cast magi like that.” Einar refuted something she hadn’t even mentioned. “I know. It wasn’t them that cast and it wasn’t them or their pudgy little friends that killed Erik either. Maybe it was the Úlfberi that invaded my property.” Rune wasn’t going to be patronized because she at least knew what she was talking about. Einar stopped dead again and commanded the lot of them to stop moving before he opened his mouth to speak, “Did you just say Úlfberi, Rune?” His nostrils flared as he uttered the word; he was visibly scared. “Yes.” “I thought I smelled Varg all around your property, but I assumed it to be this one,” Einar pointed at the wolf who was now intently staring him down. “No. After the Linnormr knocked a tree over onto my property, it broke the fence, but we didn’t find it till the morning after. Before we had a chance to repair it, the pack caught our scent. That’s why the back porch was warded the way it was.” Rune went on, wondering what she was missing about this pack. “That’s who probably created the talismans and sent the Linnormr out into the woods that night I found you. This isn’t good. How can you even see them? The talismans, I mean?” Einar asked her confusedly over a trembling tongue. “I told you; I’m different.” She just shrugged. It was one thing for Ronan to know that she could see them when they knew nothing about themselves or what was going on, but now the information seemed—dangerous to spread around. Einar didn’t like that answer, but he also didn’t think she could actually tell him anymore than that. Regardless, he had to make it known how dire the situation had become. “This pack you speak of is—dangerous isn’t even the right word. They shouldn’t even be here, but this must have something to do with the human disappearances and the unscheduled meteor shower. They most likely are the ones that killed Erik and it probably had to do with something he discovered; he couldn’t just leave things alone.” Einar spoke with some guilt. “How could they create what I saw if they are stuck in their Varg form?” Rune had a thought that struck her as odd. Vargr said that they were frozen in wolf form, but she had seen what they looked like underneath the fur and sharp teeth. “Who told you that? They aren’t stuck; they choose the wolf form over their original a majority of the time, but they are able to bring out the other side when necessity warrants. Everything is making more sense—” Einar trailed off in thought as he scratched the hair on his chin again, “They must have known about you two being in the woods. My guess is that they are the ones that lured the horses from your camp and left them to the Linnormr. They probably had no idea you were there before because you didn’t leave the bunker often enough to spread your scent, or they had never been in to town at all. They may have picked up on your trail when they left Erik’s body in the shed and were able to recognize it in the forest. They probably came back to take him, fearing that you might find the body, though at that point you must have spread your scent so far that they knew exactly where you were and took advantage of the broken fence. But the question is, were they after you or Ronan?” “You seem to know more about them than I do, so you tell me.” Rune shot back. “They are a fringe faction of the Iron-Wood. My guess is they would want him, considering his lineage and where he’s from.” Einar stated his theory. “They’re Jotnar?” Rune completely turned around on the horse to face the man behind her. “Yes. Iron-Wood Jotnar have a tendency to—shapeshift and take the form of certain creatures. There are various clans within the wood that go by different animal names because of this. Every being in that clan has the ability to shift into that animal through the learning of magi and connecting with the animal energetically. There are nine separate clans: “Úlfberi” the Wolf-Bearers, “Hrafnfiður” the Raven-Feathered, “Elgkóróna” the Elk-Crowned, “Hrútahöfuð” the Ram-Horned, “Svínartennt” the Boar-Toothed, “Ormtunga” the Serpent-Tongued, “Bjornekriger” the Bear-Warriors, “Köttleitur” the Cat-Eyed, and “Refaskottur” the Fox-Tailed. But that is by no means all the clans in Jotunheim. Some Jotun choose to master shifting in many forms, like the Iron-Wood Hag herself, Angrboða.” Einar went into more detail about this world than he had with any of the others. That name. Rune knew about the Iron-Wood Hag and how she had birthed three of Loki’s monstrous children, one being the goddess of Helheim, though the stories differed about if such a place actually existed. And this pack of wolves originated from her woods. “I guess we should be extra careful then.” Rune acknowledged what Einar said and turned back around on the horse. Now it was Ronan’s turn to speak, “Something just occurred to me that we completely forgot about amidst the chaos—how did I get into Imellom? If the road had been washed out before I got there…I just don’t understand how. Can you explain that to us, Einar? Considering we saw you there when I found out.” Ronan never turned his head but kept his eyes forward. Rune could feel his body tighten slightly under her grip. Even he was starting to seem wary of their new “friend”, although he was still unsure about Vargr too. “I don’t know. That’s something that I can’t answer. I was actually there inspecting the damage when you two happened to arrive. I hadn’t seen Rune in months and I was incredibly surprised to see her with someone else—especially you. I got caught because of you, Ronan. Neither of you ever would have seen me had I not noticed you.” Einar’s voice trembled as he spoke about him. Ronan let out a dry chuckle, “Of course. I guess we can’t have everything make sense, now can we?” Rune zoned out while the two talked and focused on the trees around them, making sure that she thoroughly scanned the trunks all the way up to the tangled branches for anything that wasn’t supposed to be there. Everything looked normal. Maybe there was a possibility that these were hidden better than the ones she had destroyed before, considering the outcome. If they were hidden, she’d need a way to see them…see them like she saw through the wolf form of the Úlfberi. She saw them because of her galdr. Could she tweak the intent behind a few words and possibly see between things? It was worth a shot. Odin sees with one eye, what you can‘t see with two. I can see what‘s in between, I can see right through. Rune began to chant in her head as she released her grasp on Ronan and put her hands at her side. He didn‘t even seem to notice as Einar had stepped up to walk beside them so the two could chat. It wasn‘t wise to walk two abreast, but if Rune‘s incantation worked, she would hopefully see the trouble coming. Odin sees with one eye, what you can‘t see with two. I can see what‘s in between, I can see right through. Rune continued with the song in her head, her lips moving silently as her fingers wiggled at her side, writing the runes in the air. She kept repeating the galdr as she kept her eyes open wide at the trail ahead. Just more trees, the occasionl felled ones, and lots of rot and fungus—and then she saw it. Only a few meters away was a giant aspen tree that was balanced just so; a slight breath would send it crashing to the ground. Rune didn‘t notice this first, however; what caught her eye was the bleeding red rune that had been carved into the trunk just above the gnawing. “Stop,” She whispered, although nobody seemed to hear her, “ Stop walking. Stop.” Vargr was the first to hear her as he stopped and turned his body so that the men couldn‘t pass. Ronan pulled back on the reins to stall Sleipnir and Einar quit walking because everyone else had. What is it, Rune? What are you seeing? Rune tried to direct Vargr as she spoke, Straight ahead, see that rock with all the moss? Behind that to the left is an enormous aspen tree. It‘s been marked and I can see where it was fixed to fall; it‘s barely hanging on. Vargr’s fur bristled as his eyes wandered to the tree in question. Sure enough, he could see where the trunk had been gnawed to pieces several feet up from the ground. Let me knock it down safely. Watch my back in case you see something else. Vargr turned to Rune and she nodded before he scampered off up the trail. “What is he doing?” Einar asked as the wolf bounded off. “Just be quiet and watch.” Rune held her finger to her mouth and then pointed at Vargr. He had made it fairly close to the tree and Rune could see it teeter as the wolf leapt up onto the rock she pointed out and jumped off of it. He landed on the ground hard, right next to the tree before he took an abrupt turn and came running back to the group. The humongous tree crackled and groaned as it shook itself to the ground. Everything trembled around them momentarily before the branches settled and the tree was still. The movement and sound caused Sleipnir to wield back with such force that Rune slipped from the saddle and began to tumble towards the ground. But Einar was just a bit quicker and was able to swipe her up with one arm so that not a single leg dragged across the ground. “Whew, thank you.” Rune breathed heavily as she regained her footing. Einar’s arm lingered around her waist as he spoke, “It’s nothing. But how did you know?” “Because I could see it. I think they wizened up, though, because I had to use my galdr to get a look at them; they’re hidden.” Rune replied as she gently stepped away from Einar. He eyed her warily as she reached out for the hand Ronan had offered her and got back up on the horse. Einar couldn’t stop thinking about how she was able to see these things, but her ability was working in their favor, so he probably shouldn’t question it. Especially, since it was starting to become later in the day… “We need to set up camp soon. There’s no way we are going to make it to the settlement before nightfall.” Einar turned his attention back to the task at hand. “Do you have any place in mind?” Ronan asked as they began their trek again. Einar pondered the question for a bit before he replied, “We need to find a place that is clear of trees, something secure.” Rune thought that laughable since they were in the middle of a fairly dense forest. Finding a spot like that where a tree couldn’t fall and hit someone was almost going to be impossible. There was another option, though, something this particular landscape was known for… “What about a cave? Preferably, one way in and one way out, trees can’t squish us, and we can bring Sleipnir under cover.” Rune suggested. There was that spark again, the one that Erik mentioned frequently when he spoke about Rune. He told Einar many times about how she reminded him of his daughter Freydís, with a sharp wit and quick thought despite her perceived shortcomings. Erik knew that whole time who he was, what he had seen, where he had been. He knew that Rune wasn’t from Midgard and she wasn’t some alien. He knew that Ronan and she both were from a world that he had once lived in, had been an integral part of. “A cave. That’s the sort of idea I’m looking for. Any that you know of, Einar?” Ronan gently elbowed Rune as he asked their new friend. “Another quarter mile or so up the trail, there’s a break. We need to keep right, but for now, the left takes us down a more narrow path, thicker trees, and there’s a shallow cave there. It’s not deep, but just enough to keep us hidden and out of harm’s way. Maybe there won’t be any traps in that direction.” Einar pointed up the hill that carried the trail. “Good. Then let’s get going.” Ronan took the reins of the situation and the company started they journey once more. Another smutty short I wrote to go along with a Supernatural fanfic I wrote back in 2010 with several OCs. There’s something about her that makes my feathers quiver. I know that these feelings are not something that is programmed into the existence of an angel, but I can’t help myself.
When I met her it was as if a fire had been lit beneath me, and impure thoughts flooded my mind. As a warrior of God, the thoughts that she provoked in me were at the very least, unclean. After spending so much time with the Winchester boys and their carnal nature, especially Dean’s, I began to think in a way that an angel never should. I never held a true attraction to any female human until I first laid eyes on her. She was so tortured, yet so naïve; no idea of what she was. After making it known to her that she was kin to me, we were inseparable. I felt such an intense passion for her soul, for her body, that it was sometimes almost unbearable when I had to be apart from her. Though fate had made it apparent that her destiny was intertwined with Dean’s, I couldn’t help myself when it came to my thoughts of her. Her wild curly tresses, her curves that flowed like a true woman’s should, the deepness that her eyes held, and the way her lips curled when she spoke to me. Her touch was like fire to my stoic nature and she spurred such intense passion in me. One night she gave me a gift; a human gift that had never truly been given to me. She kissed me and the electric energy that erupted between the two of us caused me to do something that night that I never thought I was capable of: to dream. “I’ve always liked a man in uniform.” Laurel leaned into me, gripping the lapel of my jacket with her slender fingers. “This isn’t much of a uniform. Just the everyday attire of your average human male.” I responded, looking down at her. “Cas, take the compliment.” Laurel gripped the coat tighter in her dainty hands. “Thank you, then.” I replied, starting to sweat a little. For some reason her touch was making me somewhat nervous. “I was curious about something,” Laurel began, releasing her grip from my coat and leaning slightly into my much taller frame. “And what would that be?” I responded, trying to relax even though the proximity of her body to mine was making mine act in a way I wasn’t sure it could. “Do you ever wonder what sex would be like?” Laurel cocked her head to the side and bit her lip slightly, making my eyes go wide with curiosity. “I…I never really gave it much thought. Dean tried to get me ‘laid’, as he put it, a couple years ago; but apparently I was too forth giving of information with the woman. I didn’t do very well.” I responded, backing up slightly till I couldn’t anymore and the back of my legs met the wooden bed frame. “Well, what if you were in a different position? What if the proposition was more comfortable, more familiar? Would you consider it?” Laurel returned, lacing her fingers through the loosely knotted tie that hung around my neck. “What are you implying?” I gulped, trying not to show that I was actually intimidated by her speech. “We connect, you and I, and that kiss that we had was so—electrifying. The energy that poured off of us was so intense, it made my heart race,” Laurel let go of my tie and circled around me to perch herself on the edge of the bed, “ I’ve never felt anything like that before, Cas. It was so beautiful and yet so comfortable at the same time.” Laurel licked her lips slightly and drew her knees up to her face. Her skin looked so soft and supple. I was speechless. I just stood there, staring into her smoldering eyes. Was she propositioning me? “Cas,” Laurel’s voice came out in a husky breath and she pushed herself up on her knees, making her about my height as she rested on the edge of the bed. She leaned forward and pushed back the collar of my coat, placing her hands flat on the cool dress shirt that I wore. The heat that radiated from her palms made my skin vibrate. “I’ve never slept with an angel before.” She whispered, lifting her hands to the collar of my shirt and pulled me within inches of her face. “Laurel,” I breathed, my voice coming out much deeper than usual, “I don’t know if I can.” “Why?” I could smell the sweetness of her breath so close to my face. “Don’t say that it isn’t right; that God wouldn’t like it. You’ve been doing things that God wouldn’t like. Why don’t you experience something that you would like?” Laurel leaned in to me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressed her lips softly to mine. The kiss was brief before I pulled back and looked deeply into her eyes. “You have no idea what my body does when it’s around you. Just the proximity of your being to mine drives me mad. I want to touch you, but I fear it.” I responded, looking deeply into Laurel’s aqua eyes. “There is no room for fear anymore, Cas. We live with no regrets. Every experience is a journey and we shouldn’t cheat ourselves of that. Do what feels right, what comes naturally. We have free will, Cas. Be free.” Laurel touched the back of her hand to my face. The intensity of it caused my mind to shift and I could no longer ignore the rising heat in my body. I gripped her face in my hands and pulled her into to me, kissing her lips with such passion that I caused her to moan slightly between the movement of our mouths. Laurel hastily pulled back the khaki trench coat that always adorned my body and quickly drew my arms free from the sleeves. Throughout this movement my lips never once left hers. My hands slowly slipped from Laurel’s face and down to her shoulders, and when she began to loosen my tie and gently unbutton my dress shirt, my hands finally found their place at her hips. The instant her hands made contact with the flesh of my chest it was as if the carnal side of my being took over. I heaved Laurel up by her hips and she instinctively wrapped her legs around my waist, gripping tight. Her fingers tangled themselves in my unruly hair, as she parted her mouth slightly and ran her tongue across my lips. This action caused me to lose all inhibitions and I began to slide the straps of her shirt down her shoulders to reveal the softest ivory flesh. I removed my lips from hers for the moment and began to maneuver them across her shoulders, to her collarbone, and then her neck. The sensation caused her to softly whisper my name and a faint hum rose in her throat. She raked her nails across my now bare back and I replaced my lips back on hers and hungrily partook of them. For a moment I stopped thinking and let my body take control. I kept my mouth preoccupied with the tender skin of her neck once more, as I gingerly laid her on the bed and knelt above her. I released my lips from her neck and spoke, “ Is this what you really want, Laurel?” I wasn’t sure if her body was responding to loneliness, willingness, or intense passion for me. “Cas, I want to truly know all of you. You are my guardian, my best friend, the one being I know that I can go to for anything. I need to know every aspect of you. I need to connect with you in a way no one ever has.” Laurel’s voice was a hushed whisper. I just stared at her for a moment, drinking in every aspect of her perfectly flawed being and her impeccable energy. She was so much more than just a hunter or a human creation; she was divine to me at this very moment. “I love you, Cas. And deep down I know that it isn’t possible for us to be together and I hate that. But I can be with you this way. Even if it’s just for tonight, I can show how much you mean to me.” Laurel’s eyes held so much emotion with that statement. “But sex is just a carnal urge.” I protested for the moment, fearing what we might do. “This isn’t about sex, Castiel, it’s about love.” Laurel gripped the front of my belt and pulled me down on top of her. Instantly, my fear was replaced with hunger. I now knew what she meant. I too wanted, no needed, to know Laurel on this level; to expand our union as guardian and guarded. My lips found Laurel’s once more and my hands took over, peeling away the strappy blouse that covered her torso, exposing supple flesh. Her skin was hot to the touch, warming my chest as I leaned into her and the flesh of our bodies made contact. I paused for a moment to take in the sight of Laurel’s bare upper body; her perfect breasts, the gentle curve of her hips, the sharpness of her ribcage, and all the battle scars that she had endured over the years. “You’re absolutely beautiful.” I breathed, and she blushed; smiling in return. I began to plant my lips on her body, starting at her collar bone and slowly working my way down her sternum, over her ribcage and across her stomach. Laurel tilted her head back, eyes closed, and slowly arched her back; pressing into my lips as they met her hips. She reached out and ran her slender fingers through my hair again, gripping me at the back of the neck and pulling me back up to her face. That simple gesture commanded me to make eye contact with her and for that moment nothing in the universe existed except she and I. It was as if the world had been destroyed and we were going to create life again. She ran the back of her hand over my face and I closed my eyes at her touch, hoping that she would never stop making me feel this way. “Take me, Castiel. Let’s put all of the human race to shame.” Laurel’s voice was sultry, as she slowly closed her eyes and pressed her lips to mine once more. That notion was all it took. My human body took control and as our lips moved in synchronicity, I let my hands find their place at her hips once more. I hooked my thumb into the strap of her panties and slowly and rather effortlessly pulled them from her body, leaving her completely exposed beneath me. I could feel her body begin to shake now. Was she scared or was she just vibrating with energy? No sooner had I done this when her hands found my waist. She traced the lines of my hip bones and then began to unbuckle my belt and peel back the black slacks that I wore. She began to slide them over my hips, and down my thighs, when I took over and finished removing them. “You know, I don’t know why I expected you to be wearing underwear.” Laurel smirked, finger to her lips in contemplation. “They were part of the vessel; I felt restrained.” I responded, returning the smirk. A wide grin spread across Laurel’s face at my comment and as she took in the rest of my form with her roaming eyes, the grin was replaced with one of eagerness. She reached up and raked her nails down my hips and back up again tracing my pelvis in a figure eight. She leaned up off the bed and pulled me down beside her, extending my arms above my head while she took her turn with her lips. Laurel lovingly ran her fingers down the side of my neck while she let her lips drift down the other side to my collarbone, nipping as she went. She gently bit at the protruding bones and made her way over my chest and to my abdomen, pausing momentarily at my belly button before making her way down to my hips. Laurel hovered here for a moment, kissing the tender area that led to the true carnal side of any human body. She bit gently at my hip bones, making me tense up and flex. She giggled at this response and returned her mouth to my own, kissing me briefly before she spoke. “Are you ok?” I askled. I could tell Laurel was nervous; worry was evident in her eyes. She knew what she wanted, but she was unsure if I really wanted this as badly as she did. “Yeah, I’m ok.” She turned her eyes downward for a moment and I knew that she was lying. “What’s wrong?” I coaxed her for a response. “I’m a bit nervous. I mean, I’m taking your virginity…” Laurel’s voice trailed off as she averted her eyes towards the ceiling. “Laurel, I may be an angel; and we may not partake in the frivolous act of sex for pleasure like humans do, but I think I am less of a virgin than you are. I watched God create the human race and I’ve seen it procreate since the beginning. Even though I haven’t partaken in the act, I think I will be alright.” I responded, confidently. “I mean, I know that, but,” Laurel began to protest, but I wasn’t going to let her back out now. She wanted this and oddly enough, so did I. It was just one step closer to knowing my guarded. “But nothing. I’ll prove it to you.” I challenged her, pushing her gently onto her back, as I slowly positioned myself over her. Laurel’s pale skin instantly flushed a bright pink and she slowly drew up one leg. I leaned down low over her and whispered closely to her ear. “Breathe, Laur.” I reached down and gently lowered her leg, my touch seemingly calmed her and I felt her relax beneath me. Laurel closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and exhaled, opening her eyes slowly to stare straight into mine. Her lips curled slightly into that signature smile she always threw me when being playful, and I took that as the signal that she was ready. Our lips met again, slow at first, building in passion as I ran my fingertips down her sides, ending at her hips. I gripped them firmly and drew myself right up against her. Laurel’s breath caught in her throat as she felt me pressed between her legs, and she bit her lip slightly in anticipation. I slowly entered her, letting each inch get comfortable as she conformed to my being. A soft moan escaped her lips as she tilted her head back, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape as I made my way inside her. I could feel her thighs trembling up against mine, anticipation building inside her as I took my time, letting my energy adjust to hers. Laurel was on fire; I could feel the intense heat emanating from between her legs as she gripped my wrists, trying not to make too much noise for fear of waking up the whole Singer household. When I finally felt her tighten completely around me I began to move rhythmically, rocking slowly back and forth up against her. She arched her back and threw her arms around my neck, gripping my hair at the nape, and softly let out a whimper that let me know that I was doing well. As Laurel drew her legs up and around my waist, my thrusts became faster, deeper; and she responded to this with a low groan, gritting her teeth slightly as I found the sweet spot deep inside her. “Oh, Cas.” Laurel’s voice came out in a husky whisper as she lifted her pelvis up off the cool sheets, making my entrance and exit that more pleasurable for the both of us. I hooked my arms up under Laurel’s and pulled her into a sitting position in my lap. This change in pose caused Laurel to let out a lusty gasp, and she held me close; biting down on my collar bone to stifle her sounds of bliss. This sensation, a one of pain mixed deliciously with pleasure caused me to thrust faster, pulling Laurel down onto me with each pump of my hips. After a few of these movements Laurel collected her thoughts and began to match movements with mine. Every time I plunged deep into her she responded with an intense gyrating motion, tightening her muscles as she did so. This sensation stirred utterances of my own, and I buried my face into her chest to quiet myself. Here I found a new pleasure: her ripe and supple bosom that now gleamed in a thin blanket of cool sweat. I caught one of the tender peaks in my mouth and Laurel’s eyes rolled back; her breath catching in her throat as she exhaled rather loudly. She dug her nails deeply into my shoulder blades and tensed up around me, causing me to flick my tongue quickly and thrust deeply up inside her. My mouth soon found hers again as we kept pace with one another; rocking back and forth as we both bathed in the ecstasy of the motion. Laurel then roughly pushed me onto my back, holding herself upright, knees locked at my hips. She smiled down at me, her body glistening beautifully, as she pressed her hands up against my chest and began to slowly rock back and forth. I had never felt a sensation such as this and instinctively gripped her firmly about the waist, aiding her in her rhythmic gyration. I could feel the heat building up in our bodies as Laurel threw her head back in pleasure, a low moan building up deep in her chest. Her skin had flushed a beautiful pink and she bit her lower lip, trying to stifle her sounds of pleasure. As the intensity built, I took over again, lifting Laurel up to place her face down on the sheets as I situated myself behind her and entered her once more. The position elicited a low growl from Laurel and she gripped the sheets tightly, trying to hold on to her sanity. I tangled my fingers through her thick mane of hair and pulled it taut. Laurel drew her legs up behind me, pulling me in deeper. It was my turn to utter sounds of pleasure as I felt my human body coming close to release. I bent down and placed Laurel on her back once more so I could see the expression on her face as we both became dangerously close to pure climax. “I love you, Castiel.” Laurel whispered, pulling my face close to hers, kissing me sweetly on the lips as I plunged deeper still. She locked her legs around my waist and I began to feel her shake. “I love you too, Laurel.” I whispered back, feeling an intense wave of pleasure begin to rip through my body. Laurel let out an elongated moan as I felt every fiber of her being clench around me and our bodies vibrated in unison when we both reached the peak of pleasure. I couldn’t contain my grunting, so I stifled our sounds of pure bliss by locking lips with Laurel once more. Our tongues explored one another's mouth as Laurel peaked again and again. I held her close against me, making sure that she felt every part of me. When the humming of our bodies ceased, I pulled away from her and scooped her into my arms, cuddling her up against me as we both lay bare in the bed. Laurel nestled her face into the crook of my neck, cooing softly as she wrapped her arms around me. “Whoever said human’s do it best was wrong.” She breathed, kissing the underside of my jaw. “Who said that?” I questioned, stealing a glance at her smiling face before staring up the ceiling light. “I’m sure somebody did. Either way, that was absolutely beautiful.” Laurel sighed, snuggling closer still. “I think I can truly say that this is the happiest I have ever been.” I replied, gripping Laurel tightly against me. “I have to agree with you. I don’t ever want this to end.” Laurel replied with slowed speech, obviously exhausted after our love making. “Me either.” I replied, closing my eyes to sleep. “Cas? Cas?” I could hear my name being called somewhere in the distance, but all was dark. “Cas, are you sleeping?” I heard Laurel call as I realized that the darkness was due to the fact that my eyes were closed. I opened them slowly to find Laurel peering down at me, her hair all ruffled from sleep and not a trace of makeup on her face. “I was.” I replied, sitting up to be more at eye level with Laurel. “But I thought angels don’t sleep?” Laurel wrinkled her brow and smirked in amusement. “We aren’t supposed to dream either, but what a wonderful dream it was.” I replied, pulling Laurel into my lap as I buried my face in her sweetly scented curls. Laurel smiled and wrapped her arms around me, “One can’t truly live without dreaming. And sometimes dreams come true.” I scoffed at this and pulled Laurel even tighter. It was just a dream, only a dream, but a dream that I would never forget. Harlow was up and moving before the rest, getting Carl and the others ready to grab their things and head out just as the hour peaked. Taking the route of the sewers mostly, Harlow got the three to St. Andrew’s in record time. She made sure they were warm and settled while trying to explain to Rogue and Niridia about where she had been and what needed to happen now. There was no hesitation from her friends, Rogue recruiting Silver to go with them in the cart to pick up the others while Niridia stayed behind to tend to the ones already safe. The Golden Hour passed by the time they rolled up to the east end and they were going to have to stay a bit while they figured out how to safely transport Adrianna back to the church. “She’s on a blanket now. We should just carefully lift her onto this and use it as a gurney; carry her to the cart that way.” Remy held up a piece of the bank counter that sat propped against the wall. “That’s probably the best way to do it. It should fit in the back comfortable enough with space for other people.” Rogue was in favor of his idea. “Her wound looks clean and the sutures are holding well. No signs of turning so she’s out of the woods on that. Let’s just get us all loaded up and ready to go when twilight hits.” Harlow was ready to leave immediately. She probably should have taken Remy with her on the first trip and left him behind because now they had to cram eight people and two goats into the cart, or at least five and let the other three walk on patrol. She just wanted to get everyone back in one piece. The lot had packed up what was salvageable and loaded it into the cart after they had safely transported Adrianna inside. Vanessa and William climbed in with her as well as Silver and Oscar, while Rogue, Remy, and Harlow took the helm. “We’re going to be slower this way in a sense since we can’t hide as easily, but we should be fine. Just keep your eyes peeled for anything that may want to murder us.” Harlow pointed out as she climbed on to the cart with Remy’s help. “We’ve got it handled. Eyes peeled, battle ready.” Rogue grunted, grinding her fist into her palm. “She always like this?” Remy whispered to Harlow as they settled in. Harlow chuckled quietly as she took the reins to the one horse they had, “Only when outside the walls of the church or if she gets really sozzled. It’s the adrenalin.” Harlow snapped the reins and the cart started to pick up speed, rolling down the desolate streets of the east end toward the safety of the church. (*) They were midway into their journey when they came to some trouble on their path. Where once was a clear road, now stood an obstacle that the cart couldn’t get around. Crumbling stone from nearby buildings, burnt out automobiles, and even a bus had been pushed and piled in the middle of the road, cutting off their safest route. There were other roads to take that would lead back to St. Andrews, but it would take much more time to travel them. “We need to make a decision. What do we do?” Rogue spoke quietly as she lit up a cigarette and then passed one to Remy. “What can we do? We can’t get around this with the cart, we can’t walk on foot, and we can’t remove all that by ourselves or even at all. We have to go another route.” Harlow was exasperated by the whole thing. “I was afraid you were going to say that. It’s going to add another hour of travel time and we are already past the gold standard.” Rogue complained. She had started to lose that rush. “I’m not concerned so much about the travel time as I am the fact that this was a deliberate act. Something spotted us; most likely me considering how long it would take to set that up. Also, look at the street. The biggest conjunction before we get to the road the church is on. They knew that we would have to take a longer route which means they know where we live. We could be ambushed.” Harlow expressed her concern. Remy thought for a moment before replying, “Maybe not. Maybe they know roughly where you are based on scent or even just seeing you, but I know you’re like a ghost; the fact that you got all the way out to me and weren’t seen is a feat.” “All part of the trade. But I’m not as good as you thought. We’re leaving the safety of the church too frequently for supplies and I think we’ve been spotted a few times. Let’s get back in the cart and just go. We’re wasting time.” Harlow was well beyond agitated at this point and most of that ire was aimed at herself. She now had to figure out how to safely transport eight people on a road she didn’t know as well all the way to the place they called home, a place that may have now been compromised. They turned the cart around and took the only other route they could. They stopped one more time to check on Adrianna, but Vanessa was doing a perfect job of keeping her stable and warm. Silver switched spots with Rogue for a bit, but Harlow stayed at the helm, stayed focused. The last turn before they came to the road that eventually ran behind the church was finally in sight and Harlow had just sighed with relief when she realized she had taken a breath too soon. On top of the building across the street, she could see them. There were what looked like three, lying in wait for them to cross the road. Harlow carefully slowed the cart to a halt at the crossroads and leaned in to Remy sitting next to her. She tried to make it look like she was giving him a kiss, covering her face with her hair as she whispered as softly as she could. “Three on top of the building perpendicular to us. I’m going to get out and go around to warn the others. Keep an eye on them, don’t speak.” Harlow immediately got out of the cart, miming that she had to relieve herself as she ran round the cart and cracked the door just enough to whisper in to Rogue what she had seen before she returned to the helm. She took the reins with one hand and reached down with the other to brush Remy’s leg before she tapped his gun. He understood, his hands sliding to position, ready to fire when he had to. Harlow didn’t really have a plan. There wasn’t time and she couldn’t talk due to the inhuman hearing of the three vampires on top of the building and there were possibly more. All she knew is that when she took that turn and crossed that building, they were going to attack her party and at least three were unable to fight. She just hoped everyone could follow her cues. The reins snapped on the horse again and they turned right, just passing the first building before three shadowy figures landed in the road in front of them, scaring the horse and causing it to rear back. It was so quick. Remy just stood with the rifle in his hands, cocked the bolt, and fired. The bullet whizzed through the air and caught the vampire on the left directly in the heart. They watched as a white hot fire spread from the entry point and engulfed the vampire till it was nothing but ash. This surprise attack caused confusion amongst the other two and they panicked before racing in opposite directions to the alleys. “They’re not done. Eyes on the darkest parts of the landscape, weapons ready.” Harlow instructed, getting down from the cart. Rogue and Oscar exited the cart in formation while Silver and Remy each took a side and Harlow stood to defend the horse. “I know you’re still out there! You wanted a fight, come fight me!” Harlow’s anger took over and she snarled into the frozen air. “Don’t antagonize them, Harlow!” Rogue’s voice hollered from behind the cart. “Not antagonizing, just impatient.” Harlow muttered to herself, whipping her chain from her pocket. “I recognize that voice.” Someone called from an alley down. Harlow recognized theirs too. “Yeah, yeah. It’s the cunt from the bus depot. What are the odds?” Another voice responded to the first. “Shit.” Harlow cursed, looping the chain in one hand to free up the other for her dagger. “Friends of yours, Harley?” Rogue called around the side of the cart; amused, yet disappointed. “Not now.” Harlow hissed at her friend, “And you two wankers need to sod off!” She screamed into the street. “Not a chance, princess. There’s no one here to save you this time and you brought a full—” The voice paused to sniff the air, “Eight course meal. It’s serendipity and I knew I recognized that smell. You got one of us, but we’re going to get you.” “Everyone in the back of the cart! Go now! Now!” Harlow barked, jerking her thumb towards the cart behind her. “You’re nuts if you think I’m leaving you out here to fight two of them!” Rogue ran around the cart to grab Harlow by the arm. “No. I’ve already kicked their arses once, I can do it again. This time I’m going to kill them.” Harlow snarled, pushing Rogue towards the back of the cart. “Harlow—” “Get in the cart!” Harlow didn’t let Rogue argue with her. She pushed everyone in a panicked rush, forcing them all to cram awkwardly into the back of the cart. Rogue was still yelling at her, but she ignored her angry pleas and shoved a wooden stake through the handles of the cart door. “All ready boys; let’s fucking fight.” Harlow walked to the middle of the road, arms outstretched. In a smoky blur, two figures were now standing mere meters in front of her. They looked just as they did when she saw them nights before, except…they showed signs of illness. “What’s wrong with you two? You look positively dreadful.” Harlow remarked. One snorted, “We haven’t eaten in days, you bitch. We’re fucking starving and went through great lengths to catch you and your friends like a spider in a web.” “Simon, was it? Well, Simon…you’re going to continue to starve because you’re not eating a one of us. Also, starving won’t matter when you’re dead.” Harlow grinned m enacingly, whipping the chain out over her head. She went to strike, rushing forward to loop the two vampires around the neck with her silver chain when she met a cold body, stopping her dead in her tracks. “I told you to stay home, little one. Yet here you are and I have to intervene.” The body spoke down at her. “You. I couldn’t stay home. I have people to take care of.” Harlow was defensive. “And saving those people could have killed you.” Grimm inhaled through his nose, “Alright Simon, Vlad. We’re not eating this lot. You got Cutler killed with your nonsense. Leave this woman and her friends be.” Grimm raised his voice, stepping away from Harlow. “Fuck off, you ancient piece of shit. Don’t gotta babysit us, grandpa; we’re good. Dinner is served, Vlad.” Simon cackled, nudging Vlad with his elbow. “Seriously. These younger ones are complete idiots sometimes.” Grimm shook his head at Harlow, so close that she could see how reddened the whites of his eyes were. “You’re starving too, aren’t you? When was the last time you ate?” Harlow found herself concerned for the blood drinker in front of her. “Shut. Up. I’m trying to save your life. I told you stay at home and not gallivant around, but here you are! And now I have to save your arse!” Grimm hissed through his teeth. “Sure. Save my arse,” Harlow scoffed at Grimm before she addressed the other two, “Come on, Simon! Vlad! You really want to dance again? I have somewhere to be so let’s get this over with.” Grimm didn’t move a muscle, but the other two appeared to flank him from behind, strolling closer to stand shoulder to shoulder. “You helping us, mate? You let her go before…here’s your opportunity to correct that.” Simon jeered, checking Grimm with his shoulder. Grimm’s eyes connected with Harlow’s, begging her to turn around and leave, to let him handle the two idiots, but she didn’t trust him. “He can join the slaughter if he so desires, but I’m here to clear you from the road so we can get home.” Harlow retorted, but she didn’t attack; she was stalling. “Time for you to go home, friend. This isn’t going to be pretty.” Harlow spoke almost inaudibly, but Grimm caught it. He backed out of the way and dissolved into the darkness without a word. “Shall we go first?” Simon turned to Vlad, ready to strike. But their conversation was going to be cut short. The whole time that Harlow had been talking with Grimm in the middle of the road, she had been drawing a sigil in the snow with her boot. She had memorized some, including this one, and knew it would come in handy eventually. The last thing she had to do was activate it. Harlow slipped her hand in her pocket and pierced her finger on her book marker before she squeezed the blood out on to the snow. She took a few jogging steps back before the street lit up like someone had flipped a switch and turned the sun on right in the middle of the road. Vlad and Simon screamed and hissed from inside the bubble of light and Harlow swore she saw two smoky shadows shoot from the light and back into the night. The light would only last so long and Harlow needed to get everyone out of there, so she hopped on the front of the cart and snapped the reins harshly, willing the horse to move forward, but it wouldn’t budge. It reared back and neighed in frustration, not wanting to go towards the blinding light. “Come on, come on! We don’t have much time.” Harlow begged the horse, trying to get it to move again, but it was planted firmly in the snow. Two shadows danced from the alley and were atop a nearby building now, out of the way of the light; they hadn’t run away entirely like she hoped. Eventually, the light would die out and they would be left in the open again for the two vampires to attack. She needed to get this horse to move. Harlow went to try again and it was as if she blinked, and he was there. A streak of black smoke sped up through the light and right up to the horse; eyes bulging and blood red, mouth agape with rows of sharp teeth bared for killing. The horse saw this terrifying display, reared back one last time, and then took off into the sphere of light blindly, luckily coming out the other side unscathed as Harlow steered the cart down the street. At that rate of speed it didn’t take them long to arrive at the church and she hoped that no one had gotten injured in the back. Harlow parked the cart behind the priest’s quarters before she hopped out and opened the back of the cart. “Everyone ok? I’m sorry about the bumpy ride.” “Oscar and Silver were able to hold Adrianna steady and she seems ok, but what the fuck just happened?” Rogue’s eyes were wide and she was breathing heavily. “Talk later. Silver, take the horse to the shed and then come back here. I’m going to need you, Oscar, and Remy to help get Adrianna into the sanctuary. Rogue, you take the others inside and have Niridia figure out a place for Adrianna in the infirmary. I'm going to cover the cart and try to hide it as best I can.” Harlow didn’t have time to explain everything. Rogue didn’t question it and rounded everyone up who could walk on their own and started guiding them to the back door of the church. Silver unhitched the horse and took it to the shed while Oscar and Remy waited with Harlow. “Are you ok, mon cher? You’re shaking.” Remy asked, placing his hand on hers. She hadn’t even noticed; she was still on auto-pilot from the escape. “I’ll be fine once I know everyone is inside and safe.” Harlow replied, patting Remy’s hand with her free one as Silver jogged back from the shed. “Just be very careful with her and mind her head.” Harlow guided them as they slid Adrianna out of the back of the cart and hoisted her up, Oscar and Silver easily able to carry the makeshift gurney comfortably. Silver led them to the door and Harlow quickly covered the cart as best she could with a canvas cloth and went out to check the road where they had come in for any sight of vampires. No sign of anything and the now falling snow was covering up the cart and horse tracks beautifully. Harlow felt that all was well and she could return to the church, locking the back door with her key. They had dodged a bullet…for now. "from other worlds"“Erik always made really good lamb stew.” Einar smiled thoughtfully as he ate his last spoonful. “Every spring we eat it. It was a tradition with me, Erik, and gran; I miss it.” Rune had finished her own bowl and was now gathering dirty plates, leaving Vargr’s for last since he was still licking the bottom of it. “Maybe it is something we can continue then.” Einar nodded at her before he took a swig of wine from his cup. “Not if I’m not welcome in your village. I suppose it is full of other non-humans?” Rune excused herself to the living room and sat down on the sofa. Einar and Ronan followed and took a seat next to her before Einar replied, “Yes, exclusively. Anything human has gone now, only animals remain. Our camp is a mixture of different people from different worlds, but they all had once been aligned with Asgard and its rule. But things got…complicated and some of them decided to retreat to greener pastures, so to speak. There are camps and villages like ours all over the planet, but we stay hidden with magi, so that we aren’t found out. Now our kind is the only one left in this world.” “And it’s safe there?” Rune queried, a wistful look on her face. “I think it is; we really haven’t had any problems as long as we stay within the confines of the settlement. Leaving to hunt or travel for trade can be especially dangerous now, though.” Einar informed her. “Good. If you’re up to it, I want you to take Ronan with you and go there tomorrow. Keep him there where it’s safe.” Rune commanded, surprising both the men seated next to her. “I don’t think so, Rune. You really thought I would just go for that? You’re stuck with me—I mean, if you’ll have me.” Ronan’s words tapered off at the end. At least she tried. “It’s safer for you. It was where you were supposed to go in the first place. Whatever is going on, we are targets just like Einar said we would be. Being here just isn’t safe—not forever, anyway.” She tried just one more time to convince him. But Einar interjected, “I did say that, yes. After discovering you and the attempted hijacking of refugees on that night, I thought it better for Ronan to be far away from where they knew he was supposed to land. Forcing him to believe he was human just added a layer of protection.” He turned to Rune, “And I did the same for you because I knew there had to be a good reason you were smuggled onto the caravan and the fact that you were unidentifiable convinced me all the more to protect you just as much as Ronan. Chances are, you left from Asgard too, but that’s all I know. That’s all any of us know.” Rune didn’t like feeling like the center of attention and her story was a dead end at the moment; Ronan’s on the other hand, had the potential for more detail. “Enough about me; what about Ronan? You obviously knew him from before and it sounded like you arranged his transportation, so who is he to you? Are you two related?” Rune changed the subject. But this shift in conversation made Einar visibly uncomfortable and she knew she had hit a sore spot. Einar appeared to be searching his mind for the right words to reply, but he just ended up stuttering over how he didn’t want to talk about it. “Really? After all this, after I have someone sitting in front of me from my past life on a different world and you’re going to do this again? Why does talking about me and my past make you so uneasy?” Ronan became frustrated with the newcomer again. Einar was stone still and silent as he closed his eyes tightly and clenched his jaw. He was fighting with himself over whether or not it was time to talk about certain things, but it was only going to make Ronan angrier and whittle away at whatever trust had been rebuilt if he didn’t. “Fine,” Einar burst, “You want to know more about who you are? Who we are to each other? Are you sure you’re ready for that? Because it’s going to shatter everything that you know about yourself now.” Ronan hadn’t thought about it that way, but maybe it was better to get it over with, to just rip the Band-Aid off and deal with the momentary shock than to slowly drag out the possible pain from knowing. “Yes. I’m ready. I need to know.” Ronan exhaled. Einar stood and began to pace while he chose his words carefully, “You, Ronan, are the son of a King. And that means that you, yourself, are royalty. But your father left Asgard one day on one of the many journeys he undertook and he never returned. Your mother was left with a hard decision when the time came to fill your father’s seat: crown you as the new ruler at such a young age, or re-marry to someone from another clan and join the two in an alliance, still potentially leaving you the seat when you were old enough. She chose to re-marry and things quickly went downhill. The clan she chose to align with wasn’t as they seemed and as soon as the wedding ceremony was finished, your whole clan was taken captive and forced to integrate into the groom’s clan. You weren’t treated well, none of us were. We were young when this happened, a good bit younger than we were when we escaped, and those years were—not easy ones. We grew up together: your mother was from Svartalfheim and so was mine. My father, an Alfar, was killed when I was too young to remember and when your father chose your mother as his new bride, she petitioned him to let her bring my mother along as they were like sisters, though both of them had been the only girl in a brood of boys. He allowed it and we grew up side by side until I had to leave because of the resistance that was building; that’s when I fled to Midgard. But I never stopped fighting to get you here. I just feared that it would be too late.” Einar locked eyes with Ronan as he finished his speech. Ronan noticed for the first time, how incredibly blue his eyes were and wondered if Rune had noticed the same. “So, you’re like brothers then.” Rune thought she understood, but by the sound Einar made, she obviously didn’t. “No, not even close. I didn’t know if this day would ever come, where I’d have to say this. I spent a long time trying to forget.” Einar ridiculed himself. “Forget what?” Ronan asked, a weird feeling washing over him. “We were always by each other’s side, Ronan; best friends till the end, we would say. But, um—but as we got older, our feelings for each other changed.” Einar was having a very rough time getting his words out. “Oh.” Rune breathed quietly. She definitely understood this time. “What are you saying exactly?” Ronan wanted clarification, but the weird feeling had settled in his stomach. “What I’m saying is that—we became lovers. I don’t think I remember exactly where we crossed that line, but we were even closer than we had been before. Got in trouble quite a few times for—never mind. I think we were in love then. It was the main reason that I left like I did because I knew it would be easier for me to escape and then I could find a way to get you out of there. But it all went wrong and the neural connections in the orb were damaged because of the crash, causing you both to have some issues that I rectified as best I could. Chances are if you were left alone, it would have righted itself and everything would have become clear again, but at that point it wasn’t an option anymore. I had to give you up to keep you alive.” Einar confessed everything. “Holy shit.” Ronan cussed, jumping up from the sofa. Einar hadn’t been wrong about things shattering. “That’s what I kept seeing.” Rune mumbled to herself, verifying that Einar’s strange movements and behavior in relation to Ronan made sense now. Einar appeared agitated as he spoke, “I told you. I told you what knowing could do and I didn’t even give you every detail because I feel like that is something you need to experience for yourself. I don’t want this knowledge to change anything between us as far as this new relationship we may be building; what’s in the past is in the past.” Einar was hurting; Rune could feel it. He was still in love with Ronan because he remembered it all. And Ronan hadn’t said much more than a few expletives and was now in the kitchen, pacing back and forth himself. He returned in a short while with the bottle of wine and passed it down the line. “I’m a fucking prince? Ha! Royalty…really?” Ronan laughed at himself before he took another sip of wine. Do you understand now? Vargr had appeared by Rune’s side without her knowing. Understand what? Rune asked silently. Why Ronan can’t hear me. Oh. She understood. Ronan couldn’t hear him because he was different…he was Asgardian royalty. And that meant that she clearly was something else. What are we? What are you? I’m clearly not of royal blood because we can understand one another, so we must be the same, or at least similar. I have to know more. Rune pleaded. I am from a place that wasn’t even mentioned tonight. That is all I can tell you. But I think I am going to sleep with the horse; I need the fresh air. Vargr nudged Rune’s knee with his nose before he turned around and let himself out of the bunker. Rune had missed part of the conversation between Einar and Ronan and tried to catch up. “So, were we just fuck buddies or did we have an actual relationship?” Ronan was asking Einar a loaded question. Einar sighed, “I thought I was clear on that. I think I was in love, but I don’t know how you truly felt. We grew up telling each other I love you, so saying it wasn’t profound in that way. But we never said more than that. We were romantic, yes, if that is what you’re specifically asking.” Rune could see that this subject was still rather raw for Einar. Maybe she needed to try steering the conversation in a different direction. “I hope this isn’t rude of me to ask, but are you bisexual, Ronan?” Rune stuck her nose right into the middle of their business. He looked over at her with a smirk on his face, “Ah, it’s complicated. I’m attracted to blokes, I’m attracted to ladies, and I can be attracted to those in between or none of the above. Attraction for me is deeper, you know? It’s not this or that; it’s whatever ignites my passions and inspires my soul.” That wasn’t the answer that she expected, but it made her feel rather warm inside to know that he was so open about love, romance, and sex; Rune had never really seen a lot of that in the opposite sex while growing up and here Ronan was saying such profound things. It was incredibly refreshing. “Mm, that’s almost exactly how you put it to me after we kissed for the first time.” Einar recalled with a slight smile. “What about you, love? How and who do you love?” Ronan turned on her, but she wasn’t prepared to answer. “I—” Rune sighed quietly, “Love isn’t something that I’ve ever done well. I always thought I was straight, I had a few boyfriends and I put everything that I had into the relationships, but it never ended well—cheating, abuse, manipulation. It painted how I thought relationships and sexuality were supposed to be. But I’m older now and after a lot of soul searching and really looking at myself I decided that I’m non-binary, I’m not really a sexual person unless someone stimulates my mind, and I’m not really attracted to women in a sexual way, but I couldn’t rule out a romantic relationship with the same sex. That was a long-winded way for me to say what you just said; connections like that don’t have to be black or white, nor should they be so confined.” Rune finished, making herself feel vulnerable again. Ronan seemed pleased with himself for some reason and Einar appeared to be looking at her in a different light. “I’m on the same page as the rest of you, if anyone is wondering, but it’s late and I really am tired. Is there a place I can rest?” Einar stretched and let out a huge yawn. “Um, is the sofa alright? Or you can have the bed. Either way, two people will have to share. Though, there is the spare room in the back.” Rune hadn’t thought about the lack of individual sleeping space since Vargr had only taken up a spot on the floor. “The sofa is fine.” Einar took his freshly clean shirt off as he spoke, “You should sleep too; I want to take you both somewhere tomorrow and you’re going to need your strength.” Einar laid down flat on his back atop the sofa and laced his hands behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling for a little while before he finally closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. Indeed, it was late and the two still awake were finally feeling the weight of the past few days. Even though Rune had slept as long as she did, it hadn’t made her feel well rested in the slightest. “You don’t mind me sharing a bed with ya’? I can take a sleeping bag on the floor, the other room, or something if—” Ronan started, but Rune cut him off. “Will you stop with that? Are you anticipating a rejection from me?” “No, I just don’t want to sound presumptuous with certain things; I don’t want to cross any lines.” Ronan admitted. The kiss. The way she acted after the kiss—that’s when he started doing this. He had become so afraid that he was going to overstep his bounds again and break her trust. She had planted a seed of fear in him…a fear of losing her if he did the wrong thing. She knew that feeling all too well, except in her experience, the other party had convinced her that she had done something wrong when she hadn’t. Lack of communication was a big issue, though it was most likely deliberate in her case, and she didn’t want her trauma to bleed over into her relationship with Ronan. “I’ll tell you if you are; you don’t have to be afraid all the time. Let’s go to sleep, ok?” Rune reached out for Ronan’s hand and tugged him to the bed. He kicked off his shoes and removed his trousers before he climbed into bed and waited for Rune to turn off the lights and click on the TV. Ronan watched as she slipped off her leggings and slid under the downy blanket that covered the bed. “If you want to cuddle or anything, I won’t say no.” Ronan whispered in the darkness. Just the thought of warmth from another human being urged Rune to crawl into his arms, but she hesitated. “No pressure; I’m here if you want me.” Ronan’s voice was breathy as he tried to keep it low. He rolled over to face the wall and settled into the pillows. She did. She wanted to feel connected since she now felt more detached from people than she ever had. And he didn’t know, he had no idea, but Ronan knew who he was now, and even though she was still an enigma, a potential fly in the ointment, he still cared about her as if nothing had changed. Rune cautiously scooted herself closer to Ronan in the bed, pressing herself up against his back as she slipped an arm under his and around his chest. Instantly, her body relaxed and she pulled herself up close so that she could press her face against his back. She closed her eyes and tried to drift to sleep, a strong hand covering hers now as she held on tight. Rune wanted to remember this moment as one of peace, because she had a feeling that things were going to get very rough for them. (*) Rune woke up the next morning, her face buried in Ronan’s chest, who was still sound asleep. Their hands were still linked from the night before, his free arm wrapped around her waist in a protective grip. He may have still been asleep, but she could hear rustling behind her and figured that Einar was already up. “Ronan, get up. I think we have to get ready to go.” Rune slipped her hand from his and gently tousled the wave of hair on his head. He groaned and rolled over, flipping her over with him. She cried out in surprise, but he quickly calmed her when he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back to him. “Just—five more minutes.” He whispered in her ear, the sensation making her shudder. How could she say no to that when he had her held captive? Especially since she was perfectly content staying right where she was… “Five more minutes now, means five more minutes wasted later. We don’t want to be traveling at night and we’ve already slept entirely too late.” Einar’s voice interrupted any extra sleep that Ronan was going to get. “Fine, fine. But I’m sleeping in five minutes later tomorrow morning.” Ronan grumbled, releasing Rune from his hold. The two climbed out of bed, one after the other, and went their separate ways to dress and pack. Most of what Ronan had was there in the living room, and he hastily began to change while Einar stood close by, going through a worn leather bag that was propped up on the sofa. Einar tried not to blatantly stare, but he couldn’t help himself as Ronan stood bare chested next to him as he fiddled with a clean shirt. He was covered in tattoos, all down his arms and over his chest. Most were more modern and definitely a product of place, but there were a few that heralded his roots, even if he wasn’t aware of it when he got them. “Where’d the bag come from, mate?” Ronan asked, snapping Einar from his thoughts. He hastily shoved his things inside before he slung it over his shoulder and replied, “I had it stowed outside and went back to retrieve it when I woke this morning. It has a few rations, some coin, and several other things, but it’s mostly everything I need.” “That’s like my backpack. I left a whole flat full of stuff, including my guitar, and shoved everything I could possibly need into this, then left to find Rune.” Ronan held up his bag before he put it on. “You never did say how you two met.” Einar asked curiously as they waited for Rune to return. “The short of it? She was broadcasting on a radio frequency and I happened to pick it up. We talked for a while, but she was unsure about meeting each other. Then something happened; she found this black metal box under the floor in the closet and promptly started to—hear a voice. She confessed to me that she was mentally ill and this wasn’t the first time she had heard voices. Somehow, she convinced herself that I wasn’t real because it told her so; that box was literally driving her mad. I decided that I had to come here and find her because she left me with dead air after telling me about what was going on with the box.” Ronan tried to condense the story as best he could. But it was enough to cause Einar to become alarmed, “Where is this box now, Ronan?” “In her gran’s safety-deposit box at the bank. It’s the only thing we could think of to get it far away from her. She didn’t want to destroy it because she found it with a note from Erik that said not to open it till the night of the actual meteor shower, which is when it went off.” Ronan explained. “Went off? Like an alarm?” Einar needed to know. “Yup. Horrible fucking sound too.” Ronan confirmed. At that moment, Rune entered the room with a bag of her own. She felt the energy shift when she walked in and wondered what the two had been discussing to cause the denseness in the air. “Take me to it.” Einar demanded. Rune had sat down to put on her boots when he made the command and asked, “Take you to what?” “I told him about the box.” Ronan admitted a bit sheepishly. Rune popped up from the chair with only one boot and pointed at Einar, “No. Fuck no. That thing almost caused me to kill Ronan; it needs to stay where it is.” “I understand, but we need to retrieve it. I have a feeling that I know what is inside.” Einar defied what she said. Rune didn’t want him to touch it, to take it; she just wanted it to rot in permanence inside that bank, but she gave in, “Fine, but I won’t be around it. It’s not safe.” Einar nodded, “Then let’s go. This detour is going to cost us some time.” (*) “It really said all of that to her?” Einar questioned Ronan as the two walked into the safe inside the bank. “According to her, and I don’t think she would lie. But I never heard any of it.” Ronan disclosed. Einar grunted, “That’s what I figured. Which box?” Ronan pointed at the one numbered ‘Nine’ and sat back while Einar unlocked the safety deposit box and pulled out the metal one. It was just a box for them, just a metal object that made no sound; there was no voice to be heard. Einar took it over to the table in the middle of the room and set it down before he flipped it over to find the alarm switch and no sign of how to open it. He felt around on the box until he found what he was looking for. The box made a clicking noise before a panel opened up in the front. Einar slipped his hand inside and pulled out what appeared to be a piece of raw fungus, smooth and flat on one side. But he flipped it over to reveal hundreds of tiny little tendrils that undulated back and forth like kelp at the bottom of the ocean. “What the hell is that?” Ronan probed, pointing at the object in Einar’s hand. “This,” Einar started, “Is a Death Cap. It is placed on the back of the neck before one enters an orb for transport. The little fibers you see here work their way into the skin and put the passenger in a sort of stasis. It’s made from the roots of Yggdrasil and it connects one to the world tree directly for several reasons: to guide them to their destination since the tree is sort of like an energetic super highway, to ground the body and keep it in stasis while on its trip, and as a way to communicate with those not in the same world as you. My guess is that this one is Rune’s and Erik must have found it, most likely still attached, when they came upon her in the field. Yours was in your orb.” “Ok, we know what it is, but what happened with Rune? Why was she hearing a voice like that?” Ronan still didn’t understand that part. “My theory is that Erik put it in that box for safe keeping. That technique of metal crafting was taught to him by myself, but the electronic aspect was all him. He knew what a Death Cap was because he was with me when I found your orb, though I have no idea why he didn’t tell me about hers then; I figured it had just been lost in the crash. Erik knew that the communicator only worked two ways during the window of the meteor shower. It was a time where it made it difficult to monitor travel between the worlds, especially after Heimdallr was ousted. The only way to communicate across the divide was by using the tree; once that window was closed, the tree’s energy is blocked. I’ll explain more about that later, but what I am trying to get at is, Erik knew when the meteor shower came again, that communication would potentially be open and maybe Rune could make contact with whoever sent her here. The alarm was most likely set to go off right before the shower to remind him. He would then have given the Death Cap to Rune and seen if she could talk to her host. I think that’s what she was hearing; whoever it was that sent her here. What I don’t understand is how because you have to place the fibers onto the skin so that they can connect with Yggdrasil to make contact with whoever is on the other side.” Einar elaborated as he held the Death Cap in his hand, tendril side up. “Can you tap into it and see who was talking to her?” Ronan wondered out loud. “No. There is a ceremony involved and these pieces are intrinsically connected to the individual. Once they activate it, they can connect with whoever has a part of their blood. They can give their blood to a single person, or multiple people, but it sort of works like a phone number if that makes sense. We don’t have a way to even pick up the phone.” Einar tried to explain as best he could. “But, whoever was trying to contact her was—not nice to put it lightly. You heard some of the stories and that happened in only the span of a week. I wonder if she hadn’t previously had issues if this would have been a problem. Either way, whoever that was, wanted me dead.” Ronan hung his head low, thinking back to Rune with the gun aimed at his chest. “Because they must know who you are, whether Rune does or not. All the more reason we need to get going.” Einar placed the Death Cap back in the box and put the box in his satchel. “Wait, you’re bringing it with us? Are you going to tell Rune what was in it?” Ronan blocked Einar from leaving the vault till he answered. “She can’t know; imagine how it would make her feel if she knew that someone she trusted wanted you dead…or if somewhere deep inside her she knows and finding this out triggers something.” Einar was severe in his words. “You can’t just bring that around her, though.” Ronan still wouldn’t let him pass even though he tried. “The window of communication is closed now; there won’t be any direct contact that way for another twenty years when the next cavalcade arrives. She’s safe, we just can’t tell her. We’ll say that I couldn’t figure out how to open the box and that it’s best we leave it behind for now. We have more important things to do anyway.” Einar assured Ronan that it would be alright and he was finally able to pass by, encouraging Ronan to follow. “How did it go in there?” Rune asked as she stood by Sleipnir. “Couldn’t figure out how to even get it open. I think we should just leave it for now and be on our way.” Einar replied as he and Ronan exited the bank. “I could have told you that we should leave it.” Rune shrugged as she mounted Sleipnir and offered a hand for Ronan to join her. “Should’ve listened to you.” Einar agreed, casting a sideways glance at Ronan. “Where’s Vargr?” Ronan asked, noting that the wolf wasn’t with them. “He said he was going to go on ahead and make sure everything was clear.” Rune informed them, turning the horse to head in that direction. “You trust this varg?” Einar had to ask. He had wanted to since they first met. Rune glanced over at him and said, “I would think that was obvious, considering. Do your people have a distaste for his kind?” Ronan could hear the defensive tone in her voice as she asked. He hoped that this wouldn’t escalate into an argument. “You named most of the realms, but do you really know the stories? I would think you would, being where you’ve lived this whole time.” Einar scoffed at her. “Ah, because of Fenrir. Or Sköll and Hati? A fear of Ragnarök?” Rune spoke a word that caused Einar to flinch. “You’re still skeptical and that’s understandable. But yes, vargs aren’t generally trusted where we are from. But I did watch him protect you from harm on multiple occasions and he restrained himself around me and Ronan, so maybe he isn’t all bad. I just don’t know how I feel about him.” Einar expounded. “You and Ronan both.” Rune grumbled, There was a question Einar had wanted to ask and he figured he might as well irritate Rune all at once and get it over with. “You said you can hear the varg’s thoughts?” He slipped the question in as nonchalantly as possible. “Yes. And he can hear mine.” Rune replied, staring ahead at the road as they continued to travel. “Can he and Ronan communicate that way?” Einar prodded further even though he already knew the answer. Rune shot a look at him, but Ronan answered, “No. I don’t hear a damn thing; she has to translate.” Einar scratched the hair on his chin, “Hm, that’s interesting. I wonder why that is?” “Your guess is as good as mine.” Rune shrugged, tapping Sleipnir’s side with the heel of her boots so that he would speed up. Einar could tell that she was ending the conversation and thought it best to leave the subject be for a while, though he knew she was hiding something. She knew that nobody but her could communicate with the Varg, but did she know why? They made it to the edge of town where Vargr was waiting patiently just outside the dense forest entrance. There was another downed tree just near him and Sleipnir responded adversely to seeing it just lying there. He whinnied and reared back, causing Ronan to tighten his grip around Rune’s waist. She steered him clear of the tree and caught up with Vargr who stood and began to pad his way into the trees. There are several downed trees along the path, so we need to be careful. My assumption is that they’ve loosened the trees with their gnawing, but didn’t fell them. They’ve left them to fall on their own using the natural vibration of movement. “Booby traps.” Rune breathed, her brow furrowed. Vargr barked in response. “What about booby traps?” Ronan asked quietly. Rune considered not letting Einar in on this, but it would be counterproductive, so she spoke loud enough for both to hear, “Vargr says that the Linnormr have set booby traps along the trail with the trees. There are several that have fallen because of their gnawing, but he says that they aren’t the ones to fell them. Movement near them can cause them to fall…” “They must know we’re coming or at the very least are prepared for it. We need to be cautious; try to stay on the side of the road and keep your eyes open.” Einar instructed as they all filed in with Vargr at the lead and Einar taking up the rear. Maybe you should let Ronan lead the horse. You may be more useful to all of us if you have no other distractions. Vargr spoke to Rune again without looking at her. You think there are more traps to turn us around? I destroyed all the ones I saw, but they had time to replace them. Rune asked as she panned her eyes across the trail in front of them. I knew you’d find something, but yes. Anything that looks out of the ordinary. We try and stay hidden, just like those from Einar’s clan. I may not be like the Linnormr or the Úlfberi , but we are bred from similar stock. The fact that you can see their magi is a feat and it makes me wonder…can you see the magi of Einar’s clan? Because I can guarantee you that is where we are headed. Rune narrowed her eyes at the back of the wolf’s head as she thought, Does he seriously think that I will be welcomed? Is he trying to get me killed? Vargr turned his head slightly, Why don’t you ask him? Rune took a deep breath before she lifted herself from the saddle and pulled her right leg up onto her seat. “What are you doing?” Ronan questioned her as her body moved around under his hands. “I need you to drive; it’s probably best if I can watch things without distraction. Scoot up.” She explained as she balanced in the left stirrup with one foot and waited for Ronan to get close enough to the horn before she slipped behind him. As she moved, she caught Einar’s gaze and decided to ask him about their destination, albeit worded a bit differently. “Do you really think that they are just going to let me in all of a sudden?” Einar threw up a questioning brow before he replied with, “I don’t know what you’re asking me.” “You do. Do you really think that your clan is going to accept me after twenty years of not wanting a damn thing to do with me?” Rune rounded out the question. Ronan started to ask what she was talking about, but Einar cut in, “Perceptive. I think that they will. Like I said, things have drastically changed and regardless of your identity, we are going to need your help with whatever is set to come. They’re not going to try and harm you, if that is what you are worried about. They’ve seen too much violence to react that way to an innocent.” “But I guess they haven’t seen enough disparagement against those that are different from them, otherwise they would have welcomed me with open arms in the beginning, regardless of identification. I have amnesia! I don’t even know who I really am…I was never a threat.” Rune argued. “You suspect that is why they wouldn’t let you in? Because you are different from them? We don’t know much about you, but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t like Ronan and myself.” Einar had a double edged response because he knew that she was different than either of them. “But I am different. I know that—deep down I know that we aren’t the same. Similar, yes, but I am not a native of Asgard or Alfheim and especially not Vanaheim. I’m from the other side of the forest, to coin a term, and I can feel it in my bones now. I don’t know if I’m remembering or if it’s just gut instinct, but I know.” Rune wasn’t entirely truthful with her reasoning, but she knew. It was becoming more and more obvious. “Maybe so, but times have changed just like they do and I think we have a sound argument as to why you should be accepted, if only for the time it takes me to show you both what I need to show you.” Einar went on. “And what is that? What are you bringing us all the way out here for?” Ronan finally chimed in because none of this had been mentioned to him by Einar even though he was already being asked to keep secrets from Rune. “If you must know since patience seems to be lost on both of you, we are going to see your orbs.” Einar admitted. “What? You have mine?” Rune wasn’t expecting that. She figured that maybe he had Ronan’s since he mentioned finding it in the woods, but not hers. She didn’t know anything about the orbs that brought them to Midgard. “I do. I was able to rescue it after Erik and Nora left with you. Normally, they would be put to rest and buried here on Midgard as a way to feed the planet, but I couldn’t be rid of either of yours. I think you may find answers in them.” Einar had to tell them more if they were going to trust him. “Can the orbs do that? Give us answers?” Ronan was curious now. “Possibly. The orbs are crafted from the seed pods of Yggdrasil and a whole ritual is involved when creating them for travel and that includes connection to the world tree itself. Think of it in the context of a major computer that stores anything and everything that happens to an individual connected with it. Not everyone is part of Yggdrasil that way, but since you two are, I have a theory that you can tap in to who you were before you were sent here. I may have told Ronan a few things, but the details are best left for Yggdrasil to tell you the rest.” Einar clarified. “This is going to be a fun holiday.” Ronan griped, but he was sure Rune felt exactly the same. What she didn’t know was the part about the Death Cap and it now had him thinking—did Einar still have his? Rune was done talking at this point and instead focused on the trail ahead as they came to another felled tree. How many were out here and which ones could possibly fall at any moment? Would she recognize the ones set to fall? Just focus on the task at hand and ignore all of this. Now you know, move on to the next thing that needs to be done. Vargr could feel the tension in her thoughts, but was able to placate her enough to keep an eye out for anything that could cause sudden chaos or—death. Harlow slept well past the time she should and woke up to find an empty attic and no Remy. She soon found him in the sanctuary with Rogue and Niridia, prepping plates for breakfast and smiling happily along with the others. He apparently fit right in, Rogue telling her that she was definitely pleased with how helpful and kind he was and mentioned something about snatching him before someone else did…if she was interested in the hairier sex that way.
Harlow took him out back to the chickens and showed him how to check for fertilized eggs before feeding the coop and cleaning it out. She then took him on her rounds of passing out clean blankets and towels to each room that had been cobbled together so people at least had a modicum of privacy. Remy sat with her as she saw congregants with ailments that she prescribed medicine to from the nearby pharmacies, bandaged simple wounds, and counseled those whose injuries were more related to the mind. After that, the two went to take stock of their supplies and before they knew it, the second Golden Hour of the day had come. “I can’t thank you enough for having me, Harlow. Being here felt like being with family on the holidays, if I even knew what such a thing was like. The church is safe, fortified, warm, and welcoming. I’m going to report back to the others, and leave a note at the general store within forty-eight hours letting you know what the consensus is.” Remy went to shake Harlow’s hand as the two stood at the door to the outside. “I’m so glad you felt at home while you were here. This is us every day; it’s not performative. Let Vanessa and William know that I am so thankful for the biscuits and that they were delicious. She’ll have to show me how to make them if they decide they want to move in.” Harlow chuckled as she shook Remy’s hand. Remy let his hand linger in hers, a tired smile on his face as he looked at Harlow. He secretly hoped that his group would be just as smitten as he was with St. Andrew’s…and Harlow herself. “I’m sure she will. Until we meet again, mon ami. It was a pleasure spending time with you.” Remy took Harlow’s hand and kissed the top of it gently before he slipped out into the snow. Harlow shut the door and put her back to it, exhaling with a pleased smile as she thought about the last twenty-four hours she had spent with Remy. It had its awkward moments, but overall it was more than enjoyable and made her feel hopeful for the first time in a long while. It was a strange feeling she prayed wouldn’t go away. (*) The next evening brought the funeral for Shane and Robin and their subsequent internment. Harlow allowed others to say something in favor of their fallen friends, a group eulogy that had a few quite teary eyed. Once they were buried, Rogue and Harlow crafted some headstones out of broken stone and stained glass from the front of the church. Hunting further out had brought them a few more deer and a fat hog, leaving them with some decent meat for the time being. Harlow would have gone out, if only to check the general store, but she was so busy with the funeral, she never made it out. So, she waited till the next morning and snuck out right at the start of the Golden Hour to check for his correspondence, but she found nothing. There was only one more chance to check in the forty-eight hour window, but when Harlow got to the general store, she found no note or any sign that Remy had been there at all since they last met. Harlow’s initial reaction was to assume that they’re decision was a no, but then the wheels began turning and she had a sinking feeling that maybe something had happened. “No time to go back and set up a search party; I’ll have to go at it alone,” Harlow was deliberating with herself, “But I don’t know exactly where they are. He did mention a bank and how many banks are in the east end? I can find it. If I head in that direction, I may just run into them. Ok, too many variables. Pick one and move forward.” Harlow grabbed a few more snacks from the shelves, made sure that her weapons were all in place, her chain in one hand and dagger in the other as she left the general store, hood up on her cloak, and went East. (*) Harlow scuttled around in the dark, careful to keep herself out of sight and low to the ground when she could, just in case. She kept her eyes peeled for any people or anything amiss in general, but the streets were empty save for a few rats running in and out of the alleys. The closer she came to the east end, the more that feeling of dread built in her belly. It was that ripple in the energy around her that she felt when something just wasn’t right. Was it a vampire? Or something else? She had just gotten to the crossroads where the buildings started to change and things were far less nice than where she lived at St. Andrews. Harlow knew the area well, but was unsure of any banks, wondering if it was erected after she was last there. There was no current map, no map at all, that could point her in the right direction. She could still feel waves of wild energy in the air, but couldn’t directly pinpoint where it was emanating from. “Ok, which way do I go?” Harlow crossed her arms over themselves, “I need some direction.” She could just eenie meenie miney pick one, but it would take far too long to search the entirety of the east end by herself and the Golden Hour was passing. A lightbulb went off in her head, “When in doubt, use the manual.” Harlow pulled her little leather book from her pocket and skimmed through the pages in the faint waning light of the hour. “Ah, the map sigil. I knew this might come in handy at some point.” Harlow found what she was looking for and began drawing the sigil in the snow with her foot. When it was completed, as best as it could be, she pierced her finger with the copper marker in her book and let it drip over the snow. “Show me the way now.” Harlow whispered over the sigil before it began to glow red and the soft down lifted up from the ground in a tiny cyclone before it settled again, an arrow in its wake pointing down Tiller Street. “Tiller Street it is then.” Harlow followed the arrow. She went down that specific road for some time before the little cyclone caught up with her and pointed her to the right down Stanton Road. The arrow led her like this for some time, deeper into an area of the city that had been devastated by fire. It didn’t look like it was the safest place to be, but the arrow continued to guide her further. A huge building now loomed in front of her, mostly untouched by the flames that had clearly ripped through the area. Even in the dark, she could see that it said Booker’s Bank and Savings on the front. And on the ground in front of her was a crimson stain in the freshly fallen snow. A trail of blood was smeared across the white powder as it led up to the front of the bank building and in various other directions that disappeared into the night. Her gut had been right. Harlow was just about to rush into the building when she heard shouting and the front door opened up, a man around her age running out with a bucket. He started to pour whatever was in it over the snow where the blood had stained it and was working his way closer to Harlow when he finally saw her. He dropped the bucket and drew a revolver from his hip with a shout, “Don’t move, cunt.” Harlow froze, not wanting to get shot, and held her hands up, still holding her weapons. “These bullets are tipped in silver and etched with a cross. You won’t make it past the threshold.” The man threatened her. Harlow could now smell what was in the bucket, a pungent acidic scent that permeated the immediate area. “Ammonia to break up the blood and offend the nose. Keep them at bay.” She uttered when she should have been defending herself. “Right. I bet you can’t stand it.” The man retorted. “It’s unpleasant, but I’m not vampire. I came here looking for Remy.” The mention of his name from her mouth made the man start to lower his weapon. “Remy? He didn’t mention having company coming.” The man eyed her warily, raising his gun again. “It’s a spontaneous visit. What’s going on though? Whose blood is this?” Harlow was more concerned with injuries that may have been incurred. “ A few folks. But if you say you know Remy…” The man backed up to the door, his gun still aimed at her heart, “Then you’ll have to prove it.” He cracked open the door and called out to someone within earshot that there was a woman there to see R emy. The door slipped closed and he came forward again, keeping a better eye on Harlow. “I promise you I’m a friend. Is there any way that I can help?” Harlow tried to make this man see that she wasn’t a threat. “You can help by staying out here. I’m not letting you in there and getting everyone killed.” The man snarled, shaking the gun at her. Harlow was just going to rebut when the door to the bank opened again and Remy came barreling down the walkway, hollering for the man to lower his weapon. “Put your weapon away, Oscar. This is Harlow.” Remy stood between the two before he grabbed Harlow roughly by the collar and pulled her into a shaky hug. He had blood all over his hands and smeared on his face, a deep cut over the bridge of his nose. But there was no way that he made all that blood in the snow. “She didn’t mention her name, mate!” Oscar defended himself out of embarrassment. “Maybe it was because she was scared considering you were shaking your gun at her.” Remy scolded him before turning to Harlow, “And what are you even doing here?” “I—I kept going back to the general store, waiting for your note, but you ran out of time. I got worried, had a bad feeling, and came looking for you. What happened? Why are you covered in blood?” “We got ambushed right before our supply run. Crazed New Borns came out of nowhere, killed two men and injured a third. They got away with the bodies and we were able to get Adrianna inside before there was too much blood spilled. Sent Oscar out here to pour ammonia over it to break it up and mask the scent.” Remy explained, rubbing blood from his face with the back of his forearm. “Is Adrianna alright?” Harlow was thinking ahead. “Got her in the throat. We tried to stitch her up, but none of us are really good at first-aid. I did the best I could, but she’s still bleeding and may not survive the night.” Remy started to walk towards the bank, Harlow right behind him as he led her inside and to a fairly clean room where candles were lit and a woman lay amidst them, others at her side. “Can I take a look?” Harlow knelt down next to an elderly woman who was sitting next to who she assumed to be Adrianna. “At this point I’d let the devil take care of her if it helped.” The woman croaked, moving out of the way to let Harlow take a look. Sure enough, her neck had been bitten, the flesh torn and jagged, blood running down the skin and staining her blouse and the blanket she lay on. She had been stitched up, but the stitches weren’t even and the sutures not tight where they should be. “These aren’t bad, but they’re not tight enough. I need scissors or a sharp knife if you have it. Any fishing twine? Needle, saltwater, clean rags or blankets, and a couple sets of extra hands.” Harlow instructed to the group that had gathered. They just stood there in stunned silence before Remy snapped them out of their stupor and they got to work. In a short time, Harlow had the supplies she needed as well as Remy and Oscar’s hands. She cleaned away the dried blood as best she could before having the two men pinch the neck wound closed as she clipped the old sutures, and threaded the needle for the new one. Frequent blood cleaning and readjustment of hands was necessary, but in less than the time it took Remy to do the initial work, Harlow had stitched up the woman’s neck and stopped the blood from flowing. Another good cleaning freed Adrianna’s skin of most of the blood and she was covered in a fresh blanket to rest. “Thank all for you. Poor thing definitely wasn’t going to make it to see tomorrow with such a bad bite as that. You did a fine job.” The elderly woman thanked Harlow, giving her a hug and a slight pat on the back. “Thank you. I’ve had lots of practice over the years. Just need to keep an eye on that and make sure infection doesn’t set in. We have some penicillin back at St. Andrews if we need it.” Harlow assured her that she would do whatever she could for Adrianna. “I thought you might be Harlow. Don’t know who else you could be just showing up like you did. I’m Vanessa.” The old woman held her hand out for Harlow to shake. “I had a feeling,” A smile spread across Harlow’s lips, “I’ve never had shortbreads like the ones you made and I almost didn’t share them because of how good they were.” “Well, if we can ever make it out of this hell hole, I’ll show ya’ how to make ‘em.” Vanessa grunted, casting a sideways look at Remy. “I hear you, Vanessa. Things have gotten bad and today was definitely the worst. I never made it to the general store to leave your note because we had a roof collapse while I was away with you and all this snow poured in, burying all our supplies. I’ve been cleaning it up and forgot that we were low on food and were set to do a run anyway and I was going to leave it for you then, but—” Remy held his hands out to convey the insanity. He looked like he hadn’t slept and was definitely agitated. “You don’t have to worry about this anymore. If we have to, we leave at dawn with a small group, pick up a carriage from the church and come back for Adrianna and the others. They’re safe inside the cart and that makes the journey safer even after it’s not.” Harlow already had a plan to get them out of there. “What do we do for the night, then? We got no food, most of us haven’t eaten in a few days and before that, it was all going rotten. It’s fucking cold and I got to take a piss, but I don’t want my knob to freeze and fall off.” Oscar complained, taking a seat on an old barrel. “I’ve got some food,” Harlow pulled out a couple candy bars and bags of crisps from her bag, “As far as the cold goes, let’s try and get a fire going; we all stay huddled around it until morning. I can’t help you with the piss, though, mate. Maybe just poke it out a bit and squat so it ain’t dangling in the wind? But don’t dip it in the snow because that would defeat the purpose.” Everyone laughed at her helpful advice, even Oscar who waddled off to take care of his business. “You’re good at keeping morale high.” Remy whispered in her ear as he got up and walked off to gather anything wood that would burn. Harlow rose and followed, “I’m just good at thinking on my feet. When you’ve had to scavenge and grift your whole life, you get good at that sort of stuff. Plus, I don’t like people to worry.” “Well, if they didn’t want to already follow you, they will now. I think they are tiring of my grouchy disposition.” Remy grunted, his arms piled high with wooden debris. Harlow mimicked him with the wood and remarked, “When was the last time you slept? Ate? Maybe that’s why you’re so grouchy.” Remy sighed as he dropped the wood in a safe space to light a fire, “Not really since I left you—er, St. Andrews. Haven’t eaten much since then either. Too much work, not enough hands; too many mouths, not enough food.” Even if they didn’t want to come with her back to St. Andrews, after this, she would have made them. Their living conditions had become too dangerous, food too scarce and now destroyed. If she hadn’t run into Remy at the general store, they all might have died out here. “I’ll start the fire, you eat this.” Harlow handed Remy a Cadbury Flake before taking her lighter out of her pocket. “Harlow, you don’t have to baby me.” Remy huffed, reluctantly taking the candy bar. “No, I shouldn’t have to baby you, there’s a difference. I know you want the others to survive, but how well do you think that will go if you aren’t around.” Harlow scolded him before she turned around to face the bonfire she was erecting. Discreetly, she traced a mark on her hand, mumbling some words inaudibly before she rubbed her hands together, licked her palm and whispered “Ignis nox”, her fingertip igniting like a match. With a quick breath from her lips, the fire danced forward and caught the dry parts of the wood, instantly crackling to life. “You’re damn good at this survival stuff.” Remy spoke around the chocolate in his mouth. “Don’t make me repeat myself. This sort of stuff was and is daily life for me.” Harlow squatted down on the ground. A tinkling of hollow bells signaled a horned creature that slipped from the darker parts of the building and came stumbling over to Harlow, followed by another much smaller one. Two goats were now bleating at her for food before she had even had a chance to be introduced. “The big one is Poppy and the smaller one is Antoinette. Poppy was pregnant when we found her and had two kids, but one didn’t make it. Antoinette is my little love.” Remy chuckled as Antoinette came and butted her tiny head against his leg. “They are seriously the sweetest thing I’ve seen in a long while. The chickens aren’t as loving as this, at least not during this time of year. We have six hens and a rooster. We usually keep them separated, but we wanted the possibility of more hens this year, meaning more eggs.” Harlow chatted with Remy as she took out a bag of crisps, opened them, and fed a few to the goats. “Eggs and milk are very good staples. I’m sorry that I don’t currently have any other supplies to offer besides the milk.” Remy apologized, huddling in close to Harlow and the goats. Others were starting to gather now, bringing blankets and coats to the fire. Vanessa was putting extra layers on Adrianna before she took hands with an elderly gentleman and they too took a seat by the fire. “Supplies are no matter. We had a good hunt yesterday and have plenty to share for the time being. You may be down two but you’ve still got some strong people. I assume Adrianna is a fighter alongside you and Oscar?” Harlow was trying to figure out the dynamic. “Yes. It was me, Oscar, Adrianna, and Ottis. Ottis was carried off tonight along with Cameron who was one of our elderly. That just leaves me, Oscar, Vanessa, William, Adrianna if she lives, Miss Sarah over there, her father Peter, and our youngest, Carl. Our numbers are dwindling again.” Remy counted everyone off and then cast his eyes to the fire in discouragement. “We’re going to figure out a way to stop that from happening here on out. I say that you let me take Sarah, Carl, and Peter to the church in the morning, you and Oscar can stay behind with the others. I can turn around with the cart and be back here to get the rest well before the Golden Hour. If I have to, I’ll bring someone back with me so I’m not alone.” Harlow was already calculating what they were doing from here on out. “You can’t be the only fighter in the group; that’s not safe. Makes more sense for me or Oscar to go and you stay here.” Remy started to argue. “But they know me. We can give Carl a gun and I’ll have his back. Sarah is young too and her father seems like he’s fit. If we go at the right time, it won’t matter.” Harlow had already made a decision. “Fine. Might as well let them know now that you’re getting them up at the crack of dawn to leave. I’ll stay behind, but I won’t like it. I may send you with a gun too.” Remy clearly didn’t like what she had to say. “Remy, I made it all the way down here alone without a problem. I know there will be more of us this time, but I’ll probably just sneak them through the Labyrinth.” Harlow knew she had it handled. “The what? What maze?” Remy scoffed, huddling closer to Harlow. She sighed, “The sewers, mate. Vampires hate it because of the smell. We use it a lot when we can. There’s almost a straight shot from here to the church. Only a few turns and we are there. I’ll be fine.” Harlow assured him with a nudge to the shoulder. He settled in that she would indeed be fine before the two decided to announce to the others what they had planned. The rest of the night was spent on snacks and snoring in front of the fire, but Harlow stayed awake, periodically checking on Adrianna. She had no idea that Remy too still hadn’t slept a wink and was keeping an eye on her the whole time. He was so thankful that she showed up when she did but wasn’t sure how to express his gratitude. He would find a way somehow, however. Photo by Tandem X Visuals on Unsplash "The Elk-headed man"“Are you not going to eat anything before you do that?” Ronan asked as Rune sat down on the sofa with the envelope of letters. “Not right now, but if you want to put on a pot of coffee, I’d love you forever?” She smiled, feigning flirtation even though she meant nothing by it. “I’ll make you coffee. What do you want me to do?” Ronan asked as he stepped into the kitchen and began the coffee making process. “You can see what is in that file if you want. Or, you could read the letters too—I’m not trying to hog them. I’m sorry.” Rune realized how rude she was possibly being by taking the reins of something Ronan had already had the idea to do. “No, love. Read away; find the answers. I’m just glad that we’re on the same page.” Ronan called from the kitchen. “Right.” Her response was short. She recalled how she reacted the night before when she found out Ronan had tried to look for answers. He was right, but she was afraid. She was afraid of more lies and what the truth would actually tell her. But now she had to know. It felt like too much was at stake and they needed to know what they were dealing with. Rune sorted through the letters, both Erik’s and her grans, and started with the oldest, hoping she could create a stream of consciousness between the two authors. Dearest Nora, I think it best if we communicate this way until all the chaos dies down; we don’t want anyone to know about our little secret just yet. We have to figure out a plan to integrate her into our lives and the town. I have a friend who may be able to draw up some papers for you so that you can make an adoption look legitimate, or maybe we can claim that she is your granddaughter since no one has heard from Elisabeth in years and they don’t know about what happened; they don’t have to know all of the details. Then we have to decide what to do when she wakes up because we don’t know anything about her or what she might remember. Can we help her find her way back? If she stays, will she be able to adjust? We don’t know anything about her kind, so we must be careful. And then what shall we do about the pod? I went back to find it in the daylight, but I couldn’t remember exactly where we were. I want to study it, study the meteor fragments and maybe discover where she came from, or at least where she’s been. Either way, I know you care for her already and I will do my damnedest to make sure that she, and you, are safe. But we have to be prepared for anything when she wakes up. Burn this after you read it; we can’t have anyone else finding out. ~Erik Rune reread the first letter and found the corresponding date in the replies from her grandmother to continue the narrative. Erik, This all is so strange to me. I know that you have always believed, but I kept my superstitions to the Earth. I don’t know what we have here, but I feel this desperate need to protect her, even though she could be anything. Just fell from the sky like an angel, if I believed in such things. But here she is, comatose in my guest bed and I fear for her life. I know you don’t want to be seen too frequently together for a while after the other night, but I don’t know if I can do this on my own right now. You’ve been my rock for so long and I know that it is asking a lot of you. I can’t thank you enough for this. As far as her origins go, it feels wrong to make them up for her, especially if she is coherent when she wakes, but to be prepared we should have a solid story. I like the idea of her being my estranged granddaughter, almost like I get a second chance to get it right. It sounds silly and selfish, but I still have love to give. And the pod…we should leave it. No need to draw more attention to us than we already have. I swear that someone was watching us in the field that night when we found her. I worry about how much they actually did see and what they will do with that information. Like you said, we need to be prepared and not just for when she wakes up. Write back soon, Nora Rune flipped back to the responses from Erik and the following date. It was one that she had missed when she originally went through the letters from the safety deposit box. Nora, I wonder if he has come to visit you as he has me. He didn’t say as much when he appeared on my doorstep. He looked human enough, but there was something about him that was decidedly off that I just couldn’t shake. He told me that he had seen us in the field that night, that he knew we took her. I thought that—I don’t know what I thought, but I was terrified until he told me why he came. He handed me this—stone—I guess it is, with a sort of rune etched on it. He said that it belonged to the girl and that she should keep it close, as it was a way to identify her. I wondered if it was a name, but he said he didn’t recognize it to give it a name. Maybe we should call her Rune? But—he told me there was another. A boy. He was supposed to meet the boy when he arrived here on Earth and take him to a safe place. Nora, this man is one of them. But the problem is that he can’t find the boy and he wants me to help him. He thinks he may have a lead on where he possibly went, suspects he may have amnesia or something. I suppose, the flight was a rough one. If he hasn’t come to you yet, he may soon. I will try and keep you updated this way, but he agrees that maybe we should keep our distance, at least until we can pinpoint the boy. ~Erik “Oh, that’s new. How did I miss that one?” Rune talked to herself as she squinted at the page. Ronan walked in from the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee and set it on the table next to the sofa without Rune even noticing. He decided to just let her read because she was clearly lost, deep in thought. Rune flipped through the letters from her gran till she found the next in the series. Erik, He has visited me too, but only briefly. Told me that he would come calling again and gather you so that the three of us can talk before you leave. I don’t know if you agreed to find the boy or not, but he seems to think so and I think that it is a good idea. I do worry about you being gone with Rune still being in a coma, but I think this is a test of my confidence and resilience; I will keep her safe at all costs. I just ask that you be very careful, though I am sure this is the adventure of a lifetime for you. But if that boy means as much to this young man as Rune does to me, to us, then I think it is our duty to help him. I’m sure that I may see you before I hear from you again this way and I honestly prefer it. Be well, Nora “Now it’s making a bit more sense.” Rune nodded to herself as she grabbed the next letter. My Dear Nora, We found him. Our new friend did some intense tracking and found out where he is. He’s alive, but rather touched from the whole ordeal. A lovely couple found him wandering down a dirt road, confused and ill, so they took him in. But he’s got bits of his memory and what he does remember, is driving him a bit mad. Our friend wants to take him back, but after what they have told us about what is going on, I don’t think it the best idea. I think the boy needs a new home; just like the one you’ve given Rune. We can’t take him, but I may know a couple who can. The only issue is his state of mind. I will send you another letter when I know more. -Erik P.S. You can send a letter to this address if you’d like. I would love an update on Rune’s condition, if you can. I worry about her too. This letter did have a return address that was different from the others. She searched for the envelope in the pile with the matching address for the next piece of the puzzle. Dearest Erik, I’m so sorry to hear about the state of the boy. Who are you thinking might be able to take him in? At our age, people aren’t really looking to adopt a teenager, although we are an exception. Or I am. Rune is doing well. She’s actually stirred a few times, as if she is simply sleeping, but she has yet to wake up. I worry that if the boy is in the state of mind he is in, that she may be as well, if not worse due to the condition she is in now. What if her mind isn’t right? What if it causes her pain? These poor children are suffering and we don’t know how to really help them. There’s so much we don’t know and so much that could go wrong. I don’t mean to darken the mood; I guess I just need reassurance that we are doing the right thing. Now, I sort of hope that she wakes up with amnesia and doesn’t remember a thing. Is that awful of me? It feels awful. Please, keep me updated on the boy and our friend. All my love, Nora Her grandmother had been so tortured and scared over what to do about Rune in the beginning. Rune could see that that high anxiety had rubbed off on her even though the two didn’t actually share any DNA. “You ok over there?” Ronan’s voice snapped Rune out of the story she was tangled in and she looked up to see him and Vargr watching a video together on the computer; it looked like it was season two of Ina and Liza. “Uh, yeah. You not find anything in the file?” She asked. “It was a manuscript; a book Erik was writing about astronomy and local folklore. I love you, but I don’t have the attention span to read a whole book like that right now.” Ronan made a face and shrugged. She shrugged; he had a point, so Rune went back to the letters in hopes that they would give her more. Dear Sweet Nora, I think we have found a solution. I have convinced the dear couple that I am with child services and that the young man is a runaway and needs to be returned to foster care. Our friend revealed that he has a way to calm the young man’s mind and ease his troubles. He can’t wipe the young man’s memory entirely, but he can ease the damage that has been done and try to cloud what happened before. If Rune has similar issues, he said he can help her too. I know you feel terrible, wishing that she will wake up not remembering a thing, but it’s probably for the best. Our friend says that if they know, they could become targets and his people won’t take Rune in. The other one is an exception, he says, but he won’t tell me why. I apologize for my ramblings, but I am coming to a point. I contacted old commune friends of mine who have been looking to foster an older child after their youngest went off to university several years ago. I didn’t tell them what we were dealing with, but I did mention that this wasn’t exactly by the books and they seemed to be fine with it. They’re arranging a flight from England to come get him and then I will be home. Thank you for the letter about Rune; I’m glad she’s stable. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Love, Erik And on to the next letter from her gran. Sweet Erik, We can talk more about our new friend and what he knows when you return—he still hasn’t even given us a name. But I worry more about Rune now…she’s having nightmares, but she still won’t wake up. I barely leave her side because I fear of what may happen to her if I step away. She keeps crying out in this language that sounds like a mixture of yours and something I don’t recognize. I can’t make sense of anything and I don’t know what to do. When will you be back? I wish you could just phone, even if we keep it short and discreet. I just can’t wait like this for the post to deliver a letter before I know anything. I’m just exhausted and I worry that if something terrible happens, there will be nothing I can do. I know you tell me I’m strong and maybe I’ve been through worse, but I can’t lose the girl. I just can’t. I’m sorry for the tone of this letter; I just don’t know what to do at the moment. Please call me. All my love, Nora Rune’s heart hurt as she read this letter from her gran, a desperate plea for help in a situation where she felt completely helpless. She had loved Rune before she even knew her and their first days together were spent in fear and questioning. Rune moved on to the last letter from Erik. Dear Nora, Irena and Norman Grey came for him today. Our friend was able to stabilize his mind and convinced him that he had been through some rough years but that he was going home with a new family, one that would keep him safe and never hurt him. I have a feeling that something happened that our friend is aware of, but I won’t press the subject. He’s not happy that we are sending the boy away and he knows that he can’t follow because of his duties here. Eventually, he will explain things to us, or so he says. He is really very mysterious, but I trust him for whatever reason. He also told me that the boy and Rune aren’t related in any way and that he has no idea who Rune actually is, but he knows the young man. He told me to let the Grey’s know that his name is Ronan. He wanted him to at least remember that. I’ll be home in just a few short days; our friend wants to show me something before we come back. -Erik But this wasn’t the last like she thought. Folded and crumpled, wedged in the bottom of the envelope was a piece of paper, another note from her gran to Erik. But this one read differently… Erik, I’ve tried calling the number you gave me, but there is no answer. I can’t wait any longer and am taking this letter to the post today (note the date) and if I don’t receive a call from you in the time it takes the letter to arrive, I am taking Rune to hospital. She’s awake, but she’s not with it. I think she may be touched like Ronan and I can’t console her. She just keeps screaming at me in that language I heard her murmur before in her sleep and she lashes out whenever I get too close. I’ve got her locked in the guest room, only opening the door to give her food and water because I don’t know what else to do; one or both of us is going to end up hurt otherwise. I’ll keep trying to call until I hear from you, but I hope you find this before things escalate further. ~Nora Things made a little more sense now that the letters completed a story, but it didn’t put enough together to paint the full picture and actually left her with more questions, especially regarding her fragile state of mind. Rune sat with herself for a moment before she looked over at the computer to find the chair empty and no sight of Vargr or Ronan. She set the letters down and twisted around on the couch to see if maybe they were in her bed, but it was completely empty too. “Ronan? Vargr?” She called out as she slid off the sofa and went to the kitchen. She didn’t know what she expected to find, but no one was in there either. She walked down the hallway and peered into the spare rooms, the bathroom, and the pantry—nothing. She continued to call out their names, but she wasn’t getting a response. In a sudden burst of panic she ran towards the front door of the bunker and through the usual route to her gran’s basement and into the house. First, she went to the back porch, but no one was there either. Though, there was an ashtray on the patio table with several cigarette butts in it that wasn’t there before. “Ronan!” Rune cried out again, but tried to keep her voice down when she realized how loud it echoed over the vast space. She found Sleipnir in his stable, munching away on hay and not paying her attention; that at least afforded her some relief, but she wasn’t going to be able to calm herself until she found the other two. Rune was ready to make another raspy call for her friend when she spotted him by the front gate, Vargr not far away down the line of the fence. Ronan noticed her as she turned the corner of the house and dropped the hammer in his hand before he sprinted towards her. “Good, you’re awake. I was really starting to worry about you.” Ronan lifted his hand and brushed the wild hair from her face. “What do you mean? I’ve been awake this whole time. I never heard either of you leave.” Rune denied her slumbering. “Love, you’ve been asleep for over eighteen hours.” Ronan grimaced, waiting for what he said to settle in. “No. No, that’s not possible. I was just reading through the letters, I remember asking you if you looked through the files and you said it was a manuscript, then I went back to the letters and when I looked up, you two were gone.” Rune scoffed, not believing what she was hearing. “Rune, that may be how you remember it, but I assure you that you have been asleep for quite some time and Vargr and I were starting to worry. After you asked about the folder, we went back to watching Ina and Liza for a few episodes before we started to get hungry, and when I turned to ask you if you’d finally like to eat, you were out cold on the sofa. I tried to wake you, but you got punchy and so we decided to leave you to a nap in your nest of letters. We went to bed about an hour later and when we woke up this morning, you were still sound asleep. Tried to wake you again, but got no response. We waited and tried a few more times, but you just wouldn’t wake up. I checked your vitals, your pulse and heart rate were fine, so we let you be again. Vargr and I have only been out here maybe half an hour; we wanted to make sure all the troll crosses were nailed down good.” Ronan challenged what she knew with the retelling of the day’s events. “I don’t remember falling asleep at all. I was reading letters—so many letters—and then I looked up and…it was eighteen hours later.” Rune laughed nervously, thinking about the final note from her gran; the events were hauntingly similar. Ronan was growing more concerned, especially with the fact that she didn’t even know that she had been asleep. She appeared confused as she stared past him, rocking back and forth on bare feet. It was really rather cold out, yet she didn’t seem to notice, even with naked arms. Vargr had now trotted over and nudged Rune’s hand, pulling her from her dissociation and she smiled wryly down at him. We’ve been worried about you, Rune. Ronan’s been beside himself…I’m going to take myself inside and give you two a moment. Vargr nudged her again before he loped down the side of the yard and around the back of the house. Rune managed to find the words to speak, “Do you need any help with the crosses?” “You feel up to that?” Ronan asked, starting to walk towards the fence again. “I just had an enormously long nap, Ronan. It’s not like I was ill or anything.” Rune put on a brave face as she spoke and tried to keep pace with him. When they got to the fence, Ronan handed her a hammer and told her to nail down the last few crosses that hung over the gate while he fixed ones that were barely hanging on from a rotten hole. They finished the task in just a short time, but the sun was already starting to set; Rune had literally missed a whole day. “It’s a beautiful sunset, hm?” Ronan asked as Rune stared out across the street at the cloudy pastel sky that hung over the bay in the distance. “It is, actually.” Rune replied, a dreamy smile of nostalgia on her face. Ronan crossed in front of her and leaned against the fence, his back facing the sunset to look at her. He seemed like he had something really important to say, but Rune wasn’t so sure she was ready to hear it. “You found stuff in the letters, didn’t you? Did it tell us anything?” He asked. Rune was thoughtful for a moment, not expecting him to ask those questions, “I learned more about their friend. Whoever he was, he must have seen Erik and gran when they found me the night of the original meteor shower. He showed up on Erik’s doorstep and handed him a stone with some sort of rune etched on it and told Erik that it was a way to identify me and that he should keep it close. Their friend didn’t recognize the rune and wasn’t sure if it was a name or not, but that’s why they decided to name me what they did. However, this was the lead up to him asking for Erik’s help to find—you. He was supposed to find you and bring you to a safe place when you arrived here, but you weren’t there. You had a friend here on Earth before you even arrived.” Ronan’s face was unreadable as he took in every word of what she just said. A timeline was coming together, but it was still shaky and out of order. He hoped that they would have found more in Erik’s study, but he couldn’t complain because they at least found something. “God, this is nerve-wracking. Are we aliens? I mean, that makes sense, right? How else does one just fall from space during a meteor shower?” Ronan was making a light joke, but he was clearly flabbergasted by it all. Rune went to respond when a weird sensation came over her, a low vibration rippling through the air. The feeling drew her eyes to the street again, and there standing in the middle was the Elk-skulled man. Her heart immediately leapt into her throat and she stumbled back, the action causing Ronan to spin around to see what she was looking at. “No. I don’t think so mother fucker. We are tired of your shite!” Ronan bellowed, hopping the fence without even thinking. Rune was frozen in place as she watched Ronan start to march down the drive towards the road where the creature stood. She tried to call out to him, but her vocal cords wouldn’t work. She tried to move, but she was planted to the ground, watching Ronan continue to cuss up a storm. Then it moved. The Elk man started to come forward, heading towards Ronan, speeding up so quickly that Rune almost missed him. This action from the creature broke the grip of fear that held her. She lurched forward and vaulted over the fence, running as fast as her stout legs would allow towards Ronan. “Ronan! Stop!” The words finally escaped her throat as she somehow caught up with her friend just as the creature was closing the gap. Ronan turned his head toward her voice, giving the Elk man the perfect time to strike. “Stöðva!” Rune growled as she placed herself in front of Ronan, her hands out towards the creature. Surprisingly, it obeyed. It came to a violent halt as if it had ran straight into a wall and let out a sound that caused Rune to cover her ears. “Go…GO!” Rune pushed her back into Ronan and forced him to step backwards as the Elk man struggled with his sudden stop, continuing to howl out of either frustration or pain. Ronan grabbed ahold of Rune’s hand and dragged her down the drive, lifting her up and over the fence before he hopped it himself and continued to prod her towards the back of the house. When the two were finally inside, they made sure to lock the door before they ran down the hall to the bunker, hollering for Vargr the whole way. What is with all the yelling? Vargr barked as he greeted them at the door. “It’s here. The Elk thing.” Rune’s eyes were wide with fear as she pushed past the wolf and jumped into the computer chair. She pulled up the surveillance feed to see if the creature was still there and found it just in time to see it walk straight through the front gate. “It got in. Ronan, it fucking got in!” Rune jumped up from the chair and moved her face closer to the screen to make sure she was seeing it right. Ronan skittered over to the computer just in time to witness the creature pass the front door camera and disappear out of frame as it went around the side of the house toward the stable. “Sleipnir. He’s going right for my horse!” Rune was almost hysterical at the thought. She shoved past Ronan and burst through the door of the bunker, making the trek to the surface for the second time that day in under an hour. She could hear Ronan yelling after her and the sound of Vargr whining, but she couldn’t wait for them; who knew what that unearthly creature would do to her horse if she didn’t get to him on time. Images of Ronan’s horse flashed in her mind, its cold body laying eviscerated on the muddy ground. That wasn’t going to happen to Sleipnir; she wouldn’t allow it. Rune made it to the back door and, after a few fumbled attempts, got the door open before she ran out screaming at the top of her lungs to ensure she got the creature’s attention. “Leave my horse alone!” She bellowed, running to the edge of the porch. She could just see the back of the stable and with the sound of her screaming, the creature stopped whatever it was doing and started to stride through the long grass towards her. “Get out of here! You’re not welcome on my property; you’re not even supposed to be able to get in here! Quit stalking me…hunting us! LEAVE!” Rune roared. All the pent up anger inside her, all the fear and pain, condensed itself and aimed at the unsuspecting creature. But it didn’t listen. It continued to come, the hollow eyes of the skull eerily trained on Rune as it began to climb the stairs of the porch. Ronan and Vargr had finally caught up and appeared in the doorway behind Rune. The wolf whined and let out a succession of high pitched barks to show his displeasure at how close the Elk-man was to her. Ronan tried to charge for the creature again, but Rune held her hand back, signaling for him to stay where he was. The creature was now at the top of the stairs, but when it tried to take the last step, it was shoved back as if Rune herself had given it the push. “Aw, you can’t get in, can you?” Rune cocked her head to the side as she challenged the creature, “Get the fuck off my property before I make you.” “I’m not stalking you.” It spoke and Rune felt that sensation that had rippled through the air when she had seen it out on the road. “You speak?” Rune stuttered, one eyebrow rose as she stood face to face with the thing that had been haunting her dreams for days. “And in our tongue?” She heard Ronan whisper behind her. “I do and I am not here to hurt you. I’m—I’m protecting you.” It replied. “Pro—protecting me?” Rune scoffed, “Protecting me by scaring the snot out of us where the road washed out? Or, or by posturing at me after you killed our horse? Or maybe it was when you just let the Linnormr practically kill us? I thought they had eaten Vargr!” “There’s no way they’d eat a varg that size.” It sneered and the words caused Vargr to bare his teeth. “You did n’t answer my question.” Rune pushed herself against the barrier she created, careful not to overstep it and leave herself open. “You had it handled. My intention was never to scare you. I honestly never exp ected you to see me; you never did before.” It finally answered. “Before? How long have you been watching me?” Rune choked; the thought of being followed like that without her ever knowing made her sick to her stomach. “Exclusively? Since the beginning of the year. I made Erik a promise and I’m not going to break it.” The creature spoke a name that instantly caused a crack in Rune’s toughened exterior. “Erik? You know Erik?” Rune unintentionally took a step forward on the stairs. “Erik and Nora. We’d known each other for quite some time. I am terribly sorry for your loss.” He consoled her. Then it hit her. Could it be him? She felt like maybe Erik or her gran would have mentioned their friend being an Elk monster, but never the less… “You’re their friend. You’re the one that saw them find me in the field.” Rune uttered, coming just a bit closer to the beast. “How did you figure?” It asked. There was a silken quality to the voice that she hadn’t noticed before. “It only makes sense. We know that we aren’t from here, so to speak,” Rune gestured back at Ronan, “And we know that Erik and gran had a friend, someone like us, who helped ensure our safety. You said you were protecting me and you’re t heir friend, so—” “Erik was definitely right about you; sharp like a spear.” The Elk-man crossed his arms over his bare chest, wearing a smirk that Rune couldn’t even see. “But Erik said his friend was a man and you hardly look like a man.” Rune found her confidence again, challenging the Elk to reveal itself. “I needed to be intimidating; it can be rough out there. Would you rather see me how I am?” He asked and Rune nodded. The Elk-man raised his muscled arms and gripped the horns atop the skull on his head. He slowly lifted it until a face appeared and the skull was now separate from the person. The man underneath was not much older than Rune and Ronan, with a chiseled chin and sharp cheekbones, framed by a dark beard and mustache trimmed neatly to his face. His eyes glowed back at her in the dimming twilight, icy blue like the coldest waters of winter. Dark, curly hair framed one side of his face, the other side braided back to expose his ear and neck, a long scar running from behind the lobe to his collar bone. The man was beautiful and not even close to frightening like his Elk-headed counterpart; he was quite the opposite. “That’s much better.” Rune breathed softly, suddenly finding herself enamored with the stranger who claimed to be her protector. “I’m glad you approve. Are you going to let me in?” He asked as he stepped forward. Rune could feel the heat radiating from his body and realized that she had completely stepped outside the barrier of the porch. Had he noticed? “I don’t know if I trust you yet. We don’t even know your name.” Rune replied, carefully trying to take a step back. “Einar. My name is Einar.” He offered his name freely. Rune had taken another step back and was now safely inside the barrier again as she asked Vargr silently, What do you think? Can we trust him? He seems truthful, but I don’t like the way he smells. Rune didn’t know what that last part meant as Einar smelled just fine to her, but she figured it was the wolf nose that told him something she didn’t pick up on. “You know me?” Ronan finally spoke, stepping forward so that he was side by side with Rune. Rune watched Einar take a heavy breath and hold it as his eyes fell on Ronan. There was something strange about the way he looked at him, but Rune couldn’t gauge what it was. Ronan had rendered him speechless because it took Einar some time before he finally replied. “I do. I do know you.” Ronan went on, “How? Why were you here before us, waiting for me? “Who—who told you this?” Einar became flustered. “It was brought up in letters between Erik and Nora. We found them and Rune pieced together a timeline as best she could. You were looking for me; you cared about me—but you left me behind with that family. You messed with my head and made me forget who I was and you just—abandoned me.” Ronan’s tone of voice changed. He had been holding something in that he wasn’t even aware off until just that moment. “I didn’t want to leave you behind, Ronan. Sending you as far away as we did has tortured me for the last twenty years. But I had to do it to keep you safe.” Einar divulged. “Really? I have no fucking clue who I am, mate. And that’s on you. I’ve gone my whole life believing one thing when the truth was far more fucked up. You let me believe that I had been bounced around the system where I was abused and mistreated, but is any of that actually true?” It was now Ronan’s turn to step forward as his voice rose in volume. “You have to let me explain, to both of you. A lot has changed since then and the reason I have been keeping such a close eye on you is because of that change.” Einar pleaded with them to listen. “Oh, you mean the whole fucking world disappearing? Or the fact that the road has been washed out for a month and Ronan managed to still get in here to save me? The Linnormr and their little buddies? Vargr and the fact that we can read each other’s thoughts? And the talking metal box that tried to get me to murder Ronan? All those weird changes that we never had to fucking deal with until some six months ago.” Rune spoke bitterly. “Well, that’s a lot to unpack all at once, but yes? And we can discuss all of that and whatever else you’d like to know, but I’d rather not stand here like this and do it.” Einar stepped closer to the barrier, putting his hands out to feel for where it started. “You have seen a bit of what we’ve been through so, you can understand our apprehension. You have to give us something more before we know we can trust you.” Rune wasn’t going to give in for the sake of knowing, she was going to use it as a bargaining chip. Einar considered it before he spoke, “Alright, then. We’ll start with the night you all arrived. I knew that our clan was expecting a transport within the shower. My hope was that it was Ronan, it was supposed to be him, but I was fearful that our arrangement had been found out. The landing wasn’t supposed to be so rough, but my fears had been justified as something tried to intervene with the landing. You both crashed into the Earth, off course, and I had to hunt you down, but I never expected to find Rune. She wasn’t on the roster for refugees and I couldn’t identify her. But I saw Erik and Nora find her and take her home while I continued to look for Ronan. The only thing I found was the orb that Rune was in when she crashed and the rune stone that was affixed to the inside of the hull. I brought it to the elders of the clan and they didn’t recognize it; they said that she would not be welcome within our ranks because we couldn’t identify her. After I contacted Erik and Nora, I continued to look for Ronan and eventually was able to track his orb down on the other side of the forest and, with Erik’s help, found him at a nearby farmhouse. From the sound of it, you know what happened afterwards.” Einar finished his story, but there were still so many details left out. “Orbs? What the hell is that?” Ronan asked as he pulled up a chair from the patio table. Einar gave in and settled against the banister as he spoke, “They are organic vessels that can withstand immense speeds, intense heat, and the vast distance it takes to travel between worlds.” “Well, alright then.” Ronan looked flabbergasted, his eyes blinking rapidly as he considered what was just said to him. “Ok, so you basically told us what we already know, albeit with a few more details, but you’re still not giving us anything. What are we? And why are we ‘refugees’ as you put it? Where did we come from? I want answers to questions like that.” Rune demanded, pacing closer to the porch stairs. “This is going to take a very long while. Can’t I just come in and get out of the cold? Then we can talk all you want.” Einar begged. “You know, the more you push to come inside, the less I trust you. If you really mean us no harm, you would quit with the whining and just fucking answer our questions.” Rune spat. “Jaysus, Rune!” Ronan blurted in response to her outburst. “I’m tired of beating around the bush; we deserve to know the truth.” Rune remained defiant. Einar didn’t want an argument to occur so he intervened, “You’re right; I’ll talk. You are not human beings, not from this planet, but this much you know. Ronan comes from a world called Asgard and from last we knew, that world was in utter turmoil. I won’t get into the details, but there were those that were trying to escape the conflict, an impending war that spanned many worlds with the only safe place being here, Midgard.” Rune knew the names he mentioned; she knew them from the stories Erik and gran had told her. But they were just stories, myths from long ago peoples that no one believed in any more. How could any of that be, unless he was lying to them? “Liar. Sure, call earth Midgard because of the myths, but there is no such thing as Asgard or Vanaheim or Jotunheim. No Alfheim or Muspell or Nidavellir, Niflheim, or Svartalfheim. They’re just stories.” Rune rebutted, an uncomfortable sensation settling in her stomach a she listed off the worlds. “Stories that you apparently know well from the sound of it.” Einar didn’t seem rattled by her accusation. “Of course I know them; look where I grew up. Just because I know them doesn’t mean I believe them to be true.” She argued. “I know some of the stories,” Ronan interjected, his voice soft and quiet, “But I’m not from here. Should we really be so bold as to call him a liar with everything we’ve seen and experienced?” Now, it was Rune’s turn to receive Ronan’s ire. But he didn’t unload on her like he did with Einar and instead waited patiently for a response. “Nine worlds? Nine worlds all connected by some impossibly large world tree. You mean to tell me that seems plausible to you?” Rune was incredulous. “It makes about as much sense as everything else!” Ronan abruptly stood from his chair and held his arms out wide, a smile on his face, but he was clearly not happy. Rune sat with herself and considered it, looking from Einar to Vargr as she mulled over the events of the past weeks and the months prior. The thought was absurd, but so was everything else and even in her distrust and doubt for herself, it still seemed crazier than she was. “Go on, then. Tell us more.” Rune settled in, crossing her arms over her chest. “All of those places you named are real; they exist. For example, I was born in Asgard, but my lineage lies in Svartalfheim.” Einar tried to convince her by letting slip just a bit more about himself. “Fine. Let’s say you’re telling the truth, that you and Ronan come from Asgard and there are nine worlds and all that. What about me? Where do I come from? Do you have a story for that?” Rune asked. She didn’t fully believe, but the thought of just a taste of truth about who she was, pushed her to ask more questions. Einar’s face dropped at her question and he didn’t respond. He looked to Ronan, and then to Vargr, before his eyes finally settled on Rune and he replied, “I don’t know. Like I said, there was nothing to identify you, just that runestone. Our clan keeps track of those that are trying to escape and come to Midgard. When they get here, we check for their birthstones and that tells us all we need to know about the passenger. Yours was nothing but a symbol and I didn’t recognize you, nor did anyone in the clan. It seems that you were—a stow-away on the meteor shower.” Nothing. He could tell her nothing about herself that she didn’t already know. She was nameless, homeless, an unknown. Einar had been expecting Ronan, and at that time, Ronan knew where he was headed and that someone would be there for him, but Rune didn’t have that. There wasn’t anyone here to vouch for her, to introduce her to others of her kind and show that she wasn’t some stranger. “Well, that’s unfortunate. At the very least, Ronan can get answers, right?” Rune almost swallowed her words as she pretended not to care. “Ah, yes. Not all at once, though; I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” Einar suggested. Ronan nodded his head in agreement, “You’re probably right, mate. Too much of a good thing can actually be a bad thing.” He lit a cigarette and kicked back in his seat, staring up at the ever-darkening sky. Vargr hadn’t said a word as he lay near Rune’s feet. He seemed like he was asleep, but she figured that he was still listening even if it didn’t appear that way. “What else would you like to know? Maybe there is something else I can give you.” Einar spoke as he moved from his relaxed position and fixed his icy eyes on Rune. “The runestone,” Rune thought out loud, “Where’s the runestone? I want to see it; maybe it will help me remember.” “We’d have to ask Erik, but I haven’t seen him in months.” Einar admitted, shaking his head. “Seriously? You do know that all of human civilization just up and vanished, right? Erik went wherever they did.” Rune snapped. She couldn’t believe that this man could be so daft, but she didn’t know anything about him. She also failed to mention that he had come back somehow and now he was dead… “No, Rune. Erik didn’t go with the others. He was down in his bunker when it happened. There was no warning or anything like that, it just—was. We had a feeling that something was going to happen and soon, but there was no way of really knowing exactly what. All of human life native to Midgard was taken that night; to where, we aren’t sure yet. But Erik was left behind.” Einar’s eyes never left Rune’s as he spoke. His words shocked Rune, the implication causing her to waver in her speech, “Erik wasn’t from here either.” Einar nodded, “You’re right on that in a way. I didn’t know, honestly. He never told me until after it all happened, but Erik came from Viking stock. He was a strong and powerful man in his time, albeit not without faults, and part of that was due to his parentage. He was raised by a Midgardian man named Thorvald, but his true father was one of the Aesir. Erik did not die with his sword and was instead swept up by an epidemic that killed many. There was no going to the halls of Valhalla for him, for he did not die in battle, but Odin made an exception, for Erik was steadfast in his devotion to the Gods and never wavered, despite one of his sons and his wife turning to Christianity. He was given his own army in Valhalla and a position in Council Hall as an advisor to Odin himself. I heard stories about him when I was growing up, but he was already long gone at that point. He had been branded a traitor and exiled from Asgard before I was born. I guess, he decided to come back here, but he never really told me much more than that.” Rune and Ronan took the information in slowly, their eyes both lighting up as what Einar told them started to settle in. It was impossible what he was saying, but somehow it made more sense than anything else. As Rune really thought about Erik, how he looked with his vibrant red hair and beard, his ruddy and worn complexion, his love for folklore and the stars…it all made sense. “Einar…was—was Erik, Erik the Redd?” She felt her nose get hot and her eyes start to sting as she asked. “You really do know your stuff, hm?” Einar gave her an amused smile. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.” Rune shot out of her chair, disturbing Vargr as she did, and began to pace. She was breathing heavily and Ronan was afraid she was going to have another panic attack, but when he got up to help her, Einar held his hand up for pause. “Let her handle it on her own. She’ll be ok.” “I can’t believe this. My neighbor, my surrogate grandfather, was Erik the Redd?” Rune turned to the men, a slight smile creeping across her face that slowly faded as she considered everything, “Wait, Erik was alive this whole time…that’s why the body looked so fresh.” Tears started to well in her eyes as she sat back down and Einar gave her a perplexed look as he pushed against the barrier. “What happened, Rune?” Einar asked frantically. Rune looked up at him from her hands in her lap, her eyes still fresh with tears, “Erik’s dead. Ronan and I found him a few days ago in the shed. Something killed him, Einar. I thought it was you at first because I didn’t know who you were, but I have no idea who actually did it. He had been dead for at least a week, if not a bit more…looked like something had slit his throat, but that’s all I could see; it’s all I could bare to look at.” “No.” Einar growled, slamming his fist down on porch railing. He abruptly turned and skipped the staircase, landing hard in the yard before he started to walk off towards the fence to the pasture out back. “Einar!” Rune called after him, forgetting about the protective barrier as she bounded down the stairs and followed him out into the yard. “Leave me alone, woman. I don’t wish to talk right now.” Einar grunted, waving his hand at her. “I left the protection of my porch to come check on you, don’t patronize me that way.” Rune scolded Einar, placing herself in front of him so he was forced to look at her. His features softened as his eyes connected with hers again and he reluctantly spoke, “I hadn’t seen him in months. I was actually looking for him when I ran into you by the road. I had been away for some time and when I returned to the village, I was told he had left about two weeks prior, but didn’t say why.” “He was living with you?” Rune was surprised at this, considering she wasn’t welcome to. Ronan had now come down and joined the conversation, catching the tail end of what was being said. Einar knew that this was bound to come up and he’d have to address it, so he did, “Yes. Once the meteor shower was over and he had assured that you were alright, he came to find me. He was rambling on about ‘they’re coming for them’ and my assumption is that he meant you two. Erik felt that the closer he was to you at this point, the more you would be in danger, but he didn’t say why. I had the sneaking suspicion that he had done something that I was unaware of and that it was better if you were on your own. He hoped that you’d find the bunker, but he didn’t have time to explain anything to you. I asked the clan if he would be allowed to join us and when he identified himself, they welcomed him with open arms as if he were a hero in their eyes, and not just one from Midgard. I’m sorry, Rune.” Even though her anxious mind tried to tell her otherwise, she knew that Erik cared for her like one of his own and would never do anything that would hurt her in anyway. He obviously had a good reason for leaving, but it didn’t make it any easier on her, especially since he was welcomed into the fold that she was rejected from as a child. “It is what it is and that can’t be changed, but Erik was hiding something and I think it got him killed.” Rune commented as she leaned up against the fence. “We can talk more about that later, but for now I think we all need to rest. If you aren’t going to let me in tonight, that’s fine, but I need food and sleep now. I can come back in the morning if you’d like.” Einar had seemingly cleared his head of negative thoughts, but he did appear to be rather tired. Rune figured he had proved himself enough with his reaction to Erik’s death; he was a friend, or at least not an enemy. “No, I’m not going to put you out like that. I think you’ve shown your true colors and we can trust you. I’ve got food and a warm place for you to sleep if you’ll forgive my lack of hospitality to begin with.” Rune offered, trying to make amends for her initial impression. Ronan agreed, “Please, mate. Come in and get something to eat, have a shower, clean clothes, whatever. I don’t know what you’re used to, but we’ll do our best to make you feel at home.” A slight smile appeared on Einar’s face as he nodded in thanks. “Come on, then. I’ve got some more frozen lamb stew that needs to get eaten and I can whip up a loaf of soda bread or something to go with it.” Rune waved them on as she headed back towards the house. Vargr was waiting patiently on the back stairs and had something to say when Einar crossed the threshold on the porch. You think he’s truly an ally? Rune looked down at the wolf and nodded solemnly as they all entered the house for the night. Harlow was late to the return and had everyone in a panic wondering where she had gotten off to. After some mild scolding from Rogue and Niridia, she washed up for dinner and it wasn’t until she got back down to the sanctuary and saw everyone lined up in pews instead of at tables, that she remembered she had called a meeting. “Shit, shit, shit.” She cursed at herself as she climbed atop the pulpit to address everyone. She didn’t have time to plan a speech, so she was just going to have to wing it. “I can see all your nervous faces, but let me assure you that nothing is wrong, at least not anything for you to worry like this about,” Harlow began, “But there are some things we need to discuss. I understand that there was a vote taken earlier on whether or not to bury Robin and Shane here in the graveyard, but I was not here to cast my vote and I have some things to say.” These comments didn’t put the people at ease and they began to shift uncomfortably in their pews as they listened. “We have all risked a lot here lately and sadly we lost two good men for a stupid reason the other night. A lot of you voted that they not be buried on hallowed ground due to being turned, but you don’t know the entire story. We didn’t want to cause more tension, but we didn’t find both men deceased. Shane was still alive, or undead, and I had to stake him.” Harlow just came out and said it. A lot of folks were taken aback at first, curiously looking at one another for how to react. After some consideration and quieting, Harlow went on. “Please, just listen to me. I had to end a man’s life, a man who didn’t choose to become vampire in the first place! I had to kill him because if he ever stabilized, he’d know where we were and there is a chance that we are more indefensible here than once thought. Am I not allowed to stay here then? I made a choice in what I did, unlike them.” Harlow was trying to make a point. The congregation debated with one another, Harlow waiting patiently till they finished and one spoke for the whole. “You did what you did to protect us. You’re the reason we all have a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. We would never make you leave.” “Precisely. To protect you. Don’t you think they would have done the same for us as humans? Hadn’t they already? Robin was our best shot with a rifle and Shane killed more vampires than any of us. They deserve peace, in consecrated ground, something I couldn’t give them in their last moments. Treat them with the same respect as you give me.” Harlow made one final plea, hoping to be understood. More debating amongst the congregation as heads nodded and eyes flitted to Harlow more times than she could count. Finally, Rogue piped up. “I say we take another vote, especially since Harlow wasn’t able to cast hers earlier. I’ll pass around the basket. Blue pebbles for letting them be buried here at the church, red pebbles for the alternative.” Rogue started at the front row with the basket and passed it around as congregation members discreetly placed their chosen colored pebble into the basket before handing it to the next in line. Harlow was the last to cast her vote, and unsurprisingly she chose the blue pebble. “While Rogue and Niridia tally these up, I have something else of import to discuss. During my run this evening, I met a man who comes from a group of no more than ten down on the east end. They’re struggling to find supplies and keep themselves fortified and I suggested to him that they come and stay with us. He, in turn, asked if he alone could come and give the place a look, meet some of us, and then discuss having his people come for a visit. With the supplies we found today, we can afford having a few more mouths to feed, especially with the hunting party going out at dawn. You all can meet him and then t he others at a later date and we can take a vote prior to see if they are a fit with us here. And with that, I bid you all good evening.” Harlow finished with her spontaneous speech and excused herself from the pulpit as Rogue took her place. “Votes have been cast and tallied. It was twenty to thirteen in favor of letting Shane and Robin be buried here in the graveyard. Funeral arrangements will be made in the morning and we will need volunteers to dig graves. Please, come see me or Niridia if you’d like to help.” Harlow suddenly felt exhausted as she watched everyone get up from the pews, conversing with one another as if it was just any old day. They had done a good job keeping everyone protected from what the outside world had turned into, but they had no idea how difficult it was really getting. She shouldn’t have been inviting in more mouths to feed and bodies to bathe, but she couldn’t in good conscious leave them out there in the east end to die. It would go against every reason she had decided to do what she was doing in the first place. “You did it, Harley. You swayed just enough in their favor. But some are not happy about the new decision, which is to be expected. We just need to keep our guard up.” Rogue came up behind Harlow and whispered in her ear. Harlow just nodded silently, letting herself slip away to her room before anyone decided to talk to her about the change in their deceased congregant’s fate. (*) Harlow woke up early enough to leave with the hunting party and split from the pack for the general store. She left a little note on the front counter for Remy and grabbed a few more supplies before she rejoined the party, helped bag a deer, and made it back to the church before breakfast. She then spent the rest of the day cleaning up the sanctuary, changed the menu for the evening meal, gathered blankets and amenities for Remy’s stay, and bathed in reheated bathwater, giving her long curly hair a good scrub. They had company coming and she wanted to be both hospitable and charming. They had nothing to prove to these people, but she wanted them to feel welcomed. The Second Golden hour came and went, the night darkening considerably in just a short span due to the time of year. It was now dangerous to be out there alone. Food would be brought out soon, but Harlow had to sit in her perch and wait. She had instructed Remy to come to the basement door and toss a pebble up to the tower window. She’d keep an ear out and then let him in once she heard the makeshift ‘knock’. But it was now an hour past when she would have expected him, and there had been no sign. She hoped that nothing had happened to him and that at the very least, he just decided he didn’t want to have anything to do with her and their church. Harlow had just placed a bookmark in the book she was reading and rose from her seated position by the window when she thought she heard a tap, but wasn’t too sure. It was a windy night and could have been anything. But then she heard it again, a little louder, a little heavier. She raced over to the window and opened it up, sticking her head out to peer down at the ground. “You gonna let me in? It’s incredibly cold out here and I’m practically a sitting duck.” Remy hissed up at her. He stood there just outside the door, looking up at Harlow with his hand on his hat so it didn’t blow away in the wind. Harlow held up a finger and stepped away from the window, shutting it quietly. She then bustled down several flights of stairs and breezed past Rogue and Niridia to the basement, down the long hall, and to the door at the end. A deep breath and one last fix of herself before Harlow opened the door to find Remy standing there, a paper bag in his hand and a scarf over his nose. “I’m so sorry. Quick, get in before you catch a cold.” Harlow didn’t think before she took Remy by the hand and pulled him through the door, locking it behind her when she was finished. “No, worries, mon cher. I was more concerned about being eaten alive than freezing to death.” Remy remarked with a chuckle as he unwound the scarf from his face and took off his coat. “It’s generally not too bad around here this time of night, but things are changing; you never know.” Harlow replied, offering to take his coat and scarf as he followed her down the hall. “Ah, these are from Vanessa and her husband William. When I told her about what I was planning on doing, she insisted I take these to you as a gift.” Remy conversed, holding up the brown paper bag. “How incredibly sweet of them. Let me just hang your coat and scarf up and then I can give you a small tour? You just missed dinner, but I haven’t eaten myself and I’m sure there are leftovers.” Harlow chatted absentmindedly, going through her practiced conversational responses and social protocol in her head as she did. “I would love dinner and a tour. I haven’t eaten anything since last night.” Remy returned, hanging his hat over his scarf and coat. Now that Harlow could see him better in the light of the chapel, she noticed that he had rich, dark chestnut hair that desperately needed a trim, the ends curling around his ears and hanging just at his eyes. He was heavily stubbled, especially around his mouth and chin, his lips pink and chapped from the cold hiding under the rough facial hair. His eyes had Harlow at a loss for words as he smiled at her, waiting for her to lead him. They were like stained glass, different hues of green, grey, and blue gleaming back at her. “Oh, uh—good. I mean, not good that you haven’t eaten since last night, but good that I can feed you.” Harlow tried to correct herself externally as she chastised herself within. She led Remy to the kitchen where they found Rogue and Niridia cleaning up after dinner. “Harlow, love, there’s two plates for you on the stove. I made sure to make them up before everyone else got theirs.” Rogue pointed out the food on the stovetop. “Thank you, my dear. Remy, these are practically my sisters, Rogue and Niridia. They are the reason we even got this place together like we did.” Harlow introduced the three to one another. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m all covered in suds. Real nice to meet you, Remy. Maybe we can all dip into that communion wine later and get to know one another.” Rogue greeted him before she went back to scrubbing crumbs and sauce from plates. “I second that notion on both counts. Pleasure to meet you and let’s take communion together later and get knackered.” Niridia giggled as she dried off the plate that Rogue had handed her. “Sounds like a good night to me.” Remy responded with a slight smile before Harlow led him to the dinner plates and took him to what had been the chapel priest’s office to eat. Dinner consisted of stew, soda bread, and a piece of simple lemon cake. The meal was mostly quiet as the two focused on getting their sustenance instead of chatting, but the silence wasn’t necessarily awkward. Finally, Harlow took it upon herself to speak. “So, first impressions?” Remy finished his last bite of cake before he sat back in his chair and looked back at Harlow with an unreadable expression, although it appeared to be disgruntled. “Honestly? I didn’t expect it to be this nice and well put together. No offense or anything, but you just don’t see this sort of thing anymore. How many do you all have here?” Remy replied curiously. “Thirty three adults including myself, and six children, all under the age of twelve, but over two.” Harlow returned, taking Remy’s plate and stacking it on top of her own. “So, if you were to take me and the others in, that would bring the grand total to fifty people. Can you handle that many bodies here? Feed that many mouths? I don’t want to complicate things for you.” Remy sounded hesitant as he rose from his chair and followed Harlow back to the kitchen. “How many of your people are able bodied?” She asked, placing the dishes in the dirty sink water before she grabbed a rag. “Six, maybe seven. The rest are too elderly to be of much physical assistance.” Remy informed her. “Over half; that’s good. And we have a few that are no longer able to do physical work or have never been able, but we take care of them regardless. They have other skills to offer in return. We can make this work…if you decide to stay. Let’s give you a tour and introduce you to a few more people before we get ahead of ourselves.” Harlow responded like a good leader, but secretly she really wanted them to stay. When she finished doing the dishes, she gave Remy the full tour of the cathedral, even the basement, and was able to catch a few people who were still milling about and let them meet the man that may be moving in. When they were finished there, Rogue found them heading down a back hall and called them up the stairs into the choir loft where Niridia was waiting. “Everyone is going to bed soon so I figured I’d sneak us up some communion wine, an oil lamp, and a pack of cigarettes to take the edge off.” Rogue was hunkered down behind the barrier that surrounded the choir loft, passing out tea cups to all in attendance. “Why does this bring back memories?” Remy chuckled as he held out his tea cup for the red wine. “We can’t smoke in here, Rogue.” Harlow hissed, laying out flat on her stomach so no one could potentially see the top of her head from below. “Eh, and why the hell not? We’re in the loft, the ceiling has broken stained glass for ventilation, and there are no rules anymore.” Rogue rolled her eyes as she popped to her knees, checked over the railing, and sat back down. “Not a soul in sight,” Rogue checked her watch, “And it’s ten o’clock, all are in bed.” She poured herself some wine and downed it in one go. Niridia sighed, lighting up a cigarette, “This is nice.” “So, Remy. You French?” Rogue asked, pinching the cigarette from Niridia when she passed it. “Oui. I’m from Poitiers. Moved to London about fifteen years ago and haven’t been home since.” Remy responded, taking the cigarette as it was passed around. “Why’d you move here?” Harlow asked curiously. “Work. I needed to make money and I was told London was the place to be. I had nothing but a sack on my back and a few francs in my pocket before I took a boat over. Left everything behind for a fresh start. Makes me wonder what home is like now considering.” Remy exhaled through his nose before he took a gulp of wine. “I’m from here, Niridia too. Dunno where Harlow is from, though. Not-a-clue.” Rogue was clearly already feeling the communion wine. “Really? You don’t know where you are from?” Remy seemed surprised and suddenly Harlow was put on the spot. She was going to have to explain before she was ready to. “No. Like Rogue said, not a clue. I ended up in an orphanage when I was three, I believe. It was here in London and that’s how I met Rogue when I was six and Nirida right before I turned seventeen. We’ve stuck together ever since. I never knew my parents.” Harlow gave the short of it. “In that sense, you are lucky. Sadly, I knew my parents and I wish I hadn’t. But it doesn’t matter where we’ve come from, only where we’re going and how we’re going about getting there.” Remy held his glass up as a sort of toast and the others followed. “My parents were terrible people. Put me in a home when I was fourteen because father caught me kissing boys. Worried I was a fairy, but never thought that his son was actually his daughter. Goes against God either way, I guess.” Niridia revealed information that surprised Harlow. It was something she rarely talked about within mixed company. “Who gives a fuck what God thinks? We are who we are regardless of what that violently jealous dick in the sky says. Religion complicates who we are as humans and makes a mess of it. It’s disappointing.” Remy ranted briefly before downing a whole glass of wine. “I’ll drink to that.” Niridia laughed, nudging Remy with her elbow. “I was one too many mouths to feed. The last of ten children in a Catholic household. Gave me to the church at two and found no home, eventually ending up in an orphanage when I was seven. That’s when I met the love of my life, Harlow. Unlike Niridia here, I am a fairy, but I know that our love is never meant to be.” Rogue whined, rolling over so that her head was in Harlow’s lap. “But I still love you, Rogue. Just not the way you want me to.” Harlow reminded her. “I’ll take your love whatever way I can get it, Harley. Just don’t ever leave me because if it wasn’t for you, we’d never have this fine holy wine. You always find the best stuff.” Rogue chuckled, wrapping her long arms around Harlow’s knees. All four laughed in return, finishing off the last of two bottles of wine that Rogue had brought. It was getting late. “Alright, time for bed. At least for me, anyway. Remy, you can stay with these fine ladies if you’d like, but I was going to show you where you can sleep tonight.” Harlow stood abruptly, Rogue rolling off her knees into Niridia. “Well, ladies, as much as I’d like to stay and party, I think I am going to retire for the evening. But thank you so much for the wine and cigarettes, as well as the laughs.” Remy politely excused himself as he followed Harlow from the choir loft. (*) “In all my preparations for you coming here tonight, sleeping arrangements was something I did not nail down. But, I have a larger space than most, in a sense, so you can either take the attic or the bell tower.” Harlow rambled as she and Remy climbed the stairs to the church attic. “You’ll find that I’m easy to please, Harlow. As long as I am dry and warm, I don’t care where I sleep.” Remy replied, stooping into the attic behind her. “The ceiling is low in here, but it’s probably warmer down here than up there,” Harlow pointed up at the hatch above her head. “I’ll take the bell tower, mon cher. Too cold for you up there.” Remy insisted. “But you’re my guest. At least take extra blankets. The walls will save you from the wind, but it’s still quite cold.” Harlow went to hand him a pile of wool blankets when she hesitated, his hands already on the cloth. “You know, what if you just slept in here with me? I don’t want you to freeze to death up there. You may have to hunch over to walk around, but it’s much warmer.” She reconsidered. “Will that make you uncomfortable? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Remy had taken the blankets anyway, ready to go where he was told. “No, not at all.” Harlow spoke without thinking again, but she’d rather things be slightly awkward instead of Remy turning into an ice block. “Alright, then. I’m going to go have a smoke up in the tower. You can come with if you want.” Remy gave her an invitation. She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to be alone in the tower with a man she hardly knew, but he was going to be sleeping in the attic with her, so she decided to accept his invite. “Sure. I wanted to check the stars anyway.” Harlow gave in, putting her coat back on as she hung from the rung on the ladder. “It’s really beautiful up here. You can see all the stars in the sky and all the shit on the ground.” Remy leaned against the stone turret, looking out on the city as he puffed on a cigarette. “It’s my solace. The only truly quiet place around here.” Harlow added, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. Remy exhaled a cloud of smoke before stooping down next to Harlow, “I can see that. I don’t get much time alone so this is quite enjoyable.” “What do you think? Would you move yourself and everyone else here if we asked?” Harlow felt like his statement was her cue to talk again about the possibility of taking them in. Remy looked down at her from his crouched position before settling up against the wall, his gaze never leaving her. “I think I would say yes, but I won’t know about the others until I bring them here. Although, I suspect they are ready to leave the east end for greener pastures.” Remy answered her. He was still staring at Harlow, his gaze narrowed on her body and then up to her face. She tried to pretend like she didn’t notice, but he was fairly obvious. “Well, I still have to discuss things with Rogue, Niridia, and the others, but I think we would be happy to have you all.” Harlow continued to be stiff and formal. “You know you don’t have to be like this with me. I’m not somebody that needs to be impressed or convinced. Your gesture is very kind and I hope that we can make it work, for the sake of everyone else at the least. But is it what you want? Are you prepared to take on more people?” Remy leaned into Harlow slightly, lighting another cigarette. “I do want it or I wouldn’t have offered. It’s why we started what we did here in the first place; to help others. We know what it’s like to not have anything or anyone. We will make it work.” Harlow was speaking the truth, but she had gone on auto-pilot. The pressure of Remy’s body on hers had her distracted. “Good, because I’d love to get to know you better.” Remy’s words poured from his lips seductively…at least that’s how Harlow took it. “I’m sure you would,” Harlow narrowed her eyes at Remy, “I mean, I think I know what you’re insinuating.” Harlow quickly regretted her assumption. “That’s not what I meant, mon ami. I mean, not unless you are interested.” Remy practically whispered, his elbow resting on her thigh. “No, I thought—I just thought that’s what you were hinting at.” Harlow was embarrassed. “Ooo, belle. If I wanted to fuck you, I’d come out and say it. Not that I don’t want to fuck you, because—,” Remy whistled, “You are a sight for sore, lonely eyes. But I need a friend right now more than anything.” Harlow laughed nervously, “I feel like such an idiot for assuming. I don’t know how to act around people anymore and I can’t read social cues or body language apparently. I’m so sorry.” “Douce, douce, Harlow. Like I said, if I was trying to seduce you, none of that would matter. I’m not subtle.” Remy chuckled, running a thumb across Harlow’s cheek. She wanted to jump out of her skin, but at the same time she wanted to—jump on Remy. “Ok now. But that was sort of subtle and it still seemed like you were coming on to me. Don’t mess with me, Remy.” Harlow leaned away from the man, thumb to her teeth as she spun through all the scenarios that could transpire from there on out. “What I’m saying is that I am not trying to sleep with you…but I am very unsure about your body language and if you’re uh, interested or not.” Remy now looked thoroughly confused. Harlow wanted so badly to be invisible in that moment, but she had to stay present so she replied, “It—it’s complicated? I’m not saying I am interested…but I’m not saying I’m not either.” Harlow sighed loudly, “If it were any other circumstances that maybe I would—” She couldn’t make it come out of her mouth where it made sense, but Remy was reading things a certain way. He leaned in and nuzzled her ear with his nose, his hand finding hers on the stone floor, their fingers now laced together. “Meaning that because we are in the apocalypse, you can’t enjoy yourself? I’m not trying to convince you, but this is turning into us running in circles. What I’m saying is that if you are open to something, I won’t say no.” Remy’s voice was husky as his lips grazed the side of Harlow’s face. She felt so conflicted. It had been quite some time since she had done anything of the sort and the opportunity came out of nowhere, but that wasn’t what this was supposed to be about. “No. No, I’m sorry. We barely know one another and that’s not what I am feeling at the moment. But I understand what it’s like to feel lonely.” Harlow tried to soften the rejection with a mutual emotion. “Even with people, it’s lonely.” Remy stopped flirting and settled against the wall, staring up at the stars. “I know. I could be in a room full of people and still feel like there’s no one else around. I know there are people I can lean on, but sometimes it’s as if they aren’t even here. It’s such a strange feeling, an almost permanent ache that feels like it’ll last forever.” Harlow added, settling back in next to Remy. Remy knew what she was talking about all too well, but he knew that a lot of times he did it to himself. Brief fractionated pieces of feeling whole amidst anonymous sex and alcohol. “It makes you feel almost hollow. And eventually it becomes so overwhelming, you forget how to relate intimately. Everything I do feels robotic, now.” Remy went on, lighting his third cigarette. Harlow took one too and leaned into him so he could light it for her. “And our sole focus becomes not dying and not letting others die around you. It’s the only emotion sometimes.” Harlow chimed in. “Well, it seems like we have something in common. Good first step to not being lonely, I’d say.” Remy responded, relaxing into Harlow. Her initial reaction was to tense up, but she let herself relax as he did and settled into him. “Friends? I think we’d make a good pair.” Harlow held her hand up for Remy to shake. “Mon cher, in France we kiss on it.” Remy chuckled. He took the side of her face with his weathered palm and leaned in, kissing just at the corners of her mouth. He smelled like wine, sweet tobacco, and wintered musk. It was a decidedly comforting scent. Remy lingered at her mouth for a moment, wanting badly to kiss her, but he didn’t want to spoil the moment of connection they were having. Little did he know, that him being this close to Harlow was making her have the same thoughts. They could both feel the tension in the icy air. “You said in France you kiss on it?” Harlow whispered into the quiet. “Oui.” Remy smiled, his breath warm on her skin. Just because they were in the apocalypse, didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy themselves a little. “Then maybe we should really kiss on it.” Harlow placed her forehead to Remy’s, her lips poised over his with soft breath. “Oh, mon cher. You don’t want me to do that. Talk about complicated.” Remy denied her, but his lips moved over hers in such a way when he spoke that it had Harlow shuddering, and not from the cold. Two could play at this game. “You’re probably right,” Harlow slowly pulled away, letting her hand linger in his, “Especially, if you’re moving in. Can’t have things getting awkward on us. We need to focus on survival and not carnal desires.” Harlow pushed up from the ground, stretching with a heady sigh before she walked over to the ladder and descended it so he couldn’t tease her some more. Remy gave it a minute, taking the last drag from his smoke, before he followed her down into the attic. He found her sitting atop a pallet of blankets on the floor by a small window, the brown paper bag he had brought her in her lap. She had pulled out the little cookie tin and opened it to find brown paper wrapped shortbread biscuits. “Did she—did she make these? Where did she get the butter? The oven?” Harlow was amazed at how beautiful these shortbreads looked. “We have a couple goats surprisingly and Will helped Vanessa build an improvised oven so we could bake bread when we had the supplies. They were farmers before this and here on holiday when the sky went red. They got stuck and couldn’t make it out; ended up having to stay permanently because there was no way they could travel that far on foot. They’re getting up in age.” Remy explained, watching Harlow break a piece off of the shortbread to test it. “This is amazing. I don’t think I have ever had shortbread this good. Such a sweet, wholesome gesture.” Harlow was practically teary eyed as she folded the biscuits back up in their tin and put them away. “Vanessa and Will are good people. I think everyone in our group is good people. Haven’t had any real issues between anyone; no arguments besides when things get to be just too much to handle for some. I really think you’ll like them.” Remy assured her. “If what you say is true, I think I will too.” Harlow stood from her pallet and gathered some blankets, “But now we sleep. Are you leaving at the first Golden Hour?” “Is that what you call the miniscule breaks from darkness we get at dawn and twilight?” Remy asked, taking a seat in the pile of blankets Harlow had set out for him. “Yes. We try to do as much as we can in those hours. Things are just slightly safer then.” Harlow stepped behind a room divider and emerged barefoot in a man’s oversized button up shirt. “We noticed that too. I may stay till the evening hour, if that’s alright with you. Get the full twenty-four hour experience before I report back.” Remy winked at her as he took his boots off and settled back into the blankets. “Stay as long as you’d like. We have breakfast after what would normally be sunrise and then maybe you can help me feed the chickens and tell me about your goats.” Harlow yawned, flopping back on her sleeping pad. She hadn’t realized how utterly exhausted she was. “I’d like that. Goats are phenomenal livestock to have, by the way.” Remy yawned in response, nestling in to the soft, clean blankets that Harlow had given him. “Goats and chickens tomorrow, then.” Harlow murmured sleepily as she put out the kerosene lamp next to where she slept. Remy grunted, “Oui. Goats and chickens.” And the two were asleep before they had a chance to say another word. |
E.M. MoonStories from the World Wide Weird Archives
April 2022
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