grip of those small fingers locked around his free hand, fighting the low whispered words of false love carried from the far side of the gate. As Morgaine’s sorcery called him to cross back to her, the air seemed to hiss and scream with the forces thrown into this world. He heard the neigh of war horses and the clang of armor. He could taste the past as it fell around his shoulders like a cloak of death. And yet…if he returned, he could sleep. All his grave responsibilities would be forgotten. Rest, after so many centuries of watching and searching and guarding….
The small fingers jerked under his. Nails drove into his palm. The quick burst of pain caught him back from the dangerous edge of persuasion that he had not even seen.
Too close, Lyon thought grimly. Morgaine’s power grew apace. And the Rose—this strange, young/old creature—had caught him in time.
The furious cry that leaped through the portal was evil itself, evil thwarted, unbearably ugly as it must always be when its beautiful masks are put aside.
So much for the love Morgaine pretended, Lyon thought grimly. Now there was no more hiding.
Curses rained down, then stopped abruptly. “But hold. I sense someone with you. One of…light. I can almost taste the beating of her heart. How sweet it will feel beneath my teeth,” the gentle, awful voice hissed.
“Pull back,” a man’s voice ordered. “We cannot stay. If we are caught when the portal closes, we will all be crushed in its force.”
“No, wait. She is there. I can feel her. She carries the energy of a Rose.” Morgaine’s voice was shrill with excitement.
“Next time. We are losing the gate already.”
The air seemed to keen with frustrated hunger. Then the shimmering slowly faded and the air stilled, falling back into shadow.
Lyon released a slow breath. His sword was tight in his right hand, but he staggered a little, then braced his left shoulder against the cold stone.
The woman behind him leaned close and gave a shaky laugh. “Now that was interesting. That’s some evil ex-girlfriend you’ve got, pal. And I’m not sure I understood even half of what she said.”
“Just as well.” Lyon closed his eyes. In the aftermath of the gate closing, he was cold, mortally cold. It stunned him to realize what this meeting had cost him.
Was each contact with the Walkers growing harder?
“Hey, wake up.” A small hand bumped him in the shoulder. “Don’t fall asleep on me now. I want some answers, buddy. Starting with that part about ripping out the heart.”
It stunned Lyon to realize that she had no fear. Curiosity, yes. Irritation most certainly. But no shred of fear.
A true Rose, Lyon thought in wonder. He had found her without ever planning it. Yes, life worked with unfathomable magic and wonders. He had walked through days and centuries, and life’s turnings continued to surprise him. He tried to shake off his exhaustion, bracing one powerful hand to hold himself against the cold stone.
And to Lyon’s surprise and wonder, the female leaned beside him. Her legs locked and one small hand slid under his elbow to support him while her breath played against his neck.
She laughed softly. “Yeah, I’m a little shaken up too. We’ll both take a minute to regroup here. You don’t see something like that every day. And I gotta say, I’m glad for it.”
Her touch gave him strength and new energy, as did her laughter. He frowned at her strange words however. So much had changed in this time, clothing and customs and language together. And their noisy metal transportation boxes tasked all his comfort.
Yet Lyon knew well that he had to expect change. He had seen it before in every transit he had made. Shaking his head, he stood up slowly.
And so it was. He had found her. His Rose. His to protect after so many centuries of watching and waiting.
He would not fail her.
He felt her fingers, pale and slender, close around his arm. “You still seem a little shaky on your
Learning to Kill: Stories