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“Yeah.”
“It’s cool,” I tell him admiringly.
He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “It’s better than nothing. Let’s get that meat you wanted and go see the wizard.”
When we finally manage to bag a couple of rabbits, we start to head back toward Crenshaw’s.
“I should do it alone.”
He frowns down at me. “Why?”
“He likes me.”
“He likes me too,” Ryan insists, sounding offended.
“He likes me more.”
“What are you? Two years old? It’s not a competition. I’m sure daddy loves all his kids the same.”
“But I’m special.”
“Why? Cause you’re a girl? Get over yourself, Joss. I’m going with you.”
I want to hit him for trivializing how hard it’s been to do this on my own being a girl surrounded by Lost Boys, Colonists and Risen. It’s been a nightmare, and honestly, being around people again has its pros and cons too. I can’t exactly say it’s hands down a better deal than what I had before. It’s different, sure, but is it better? I feel a
A
“Whatever, let’s go.”
I turn my back on him instead of hitting him or yelling at him. I feel like that’s a sure sign that my social skills are improving.
We reach the edge of Crenshaw’s property and pause, sca
“You want to knock or should I?” Ryan asks.
“Just do it.”
He chuckles. “You are seriously a sore loser.”
“I haven’t lost anything!”
“Athena?” Crenshaw calls.
“Nothing but your temper,” Ryan whispers in my ear, his breath tickling my hair across my neck.
I shiver, shoving him away as I try not to smile.
“I saw that,” he mumbles.
“Shut up.”
“Ah, Athena,” Crenshaw says happily, emerging from the shadows like mist the way he loves to do. “I thought that was you.” He looks Ryan up and down briefly. “And you’ve brought young Helios with you.”
I turn to ask Ryan who the hell Helios is, but my words die in my throat. He’s down in the grass on one knee, his head bowed.
“Master Crenshaw,” he intones deeply.
Crenshaw grins affectionately, waving his hand to him. “Rise, rise, my boy. As you’ve brought Athena with you, I assume this is to be a social call. No need for such ceremony.”
Ryan stands beside me. I stare at me in amazement.
“What was that?”
“Shh,” he shushes me. “Master Crenshaw, we seek your council.”
“Ah, so then it is not entirely a social call.”
“No, sir.”
“Well, come, my children. Come. You’ll sit at my hearth and tell me your troubles.”
We follow silently and carefully behind Crenshaw as he leads us through his maze of traps. I’m bursting with questions about what the bowing and ‘Master’ bit was about, but I lock it up for now. Talking to Crenshaw, especially about real issues, is a delicate thing. Some days you get sharp moments of a man well aware he’s living in an apocalypse. Other days, you get the wizard who wants to show you his latest trick of turning water into wine. It’s not wine. It’s not even grape juice. It’s water with mashed up grapes in it, seeds, skins and all. But you drink it because you’ll hurt his feelings otherwise and if there’s one thing you never do, it’s piss off a wizard.
He seats us at his small table inside his hut, Ryan actually on his bed with his long legs tucked up nearly into his chest. We both pass on whatever brew he has going on the stove that wreaks of onions because that’s probably what it is, boiling onions, and we offer him a share of our kill in exchange for his advice.
“What knowledge do you seek?” he asks us seriously, his large round eyes sca
Ryan glances at me quickly, looking anxious. This is where it could go well or very wrong. You never know.
I clear my throat. “Helios and I,” I begin, feeling like an idiot, “are looking to free the other souls I was imprisoned with.”
Crenshaw’s face falls in shadow. It’s as though the light of the entire world has been sucked from it and the only thing left besides the darkness is the burning fire in his eyes.
“Those zealots,” he says quietly, his voice trembling slightly, “have been a menace since the start. I have seen countless souls ensnared in their nets. Countless bodies tossed carelessly within their chariots to be their slaves. To work their fields, tend their livestock. Fatten their King. But the day I knew they’d taken you,” he reaches out with his warm, worn hand and rests it gently on top of mine. I tense, doing everything I can to keep my hand there. To sit still and not offend him. I can feel Ryan’s eyes heavy on me, on my hand, and the weight of his stare makes it so much worse. “It broke my heart, Athena.”
I freeze, staring at him in surprise. I’m surprised by his sad voice, by his angry eyes, but most importantly I’m surprised that it’s all for me.
“It did?” I whisper.
“Of course. You are my bellatrix.”
“Like in Harry Potter?” Ryan mumbles.
I kick him under the table.
“What does that mean, Cren?”
He laughs, squeezing my hand before mercifully releasing it. “Your Latin is atrocious! It is a woman warrior. You are a Valkyrie, Athena. Defeating the devils that have escaped Hell’s gates.”
“I’m not exactly doing it alone,” I chuckle nervously, feeling both of their eyes on me.
“No, you’re right. You have Helios to help you. I must say that this,” Crenshaw gestures between Ryan and I, “is right. It is as it should be. You’ve fought valiantly, my dear, but there’s no shame in accepting help. And Helios, he can help you.”
I glance quickly at Ryan, feeling my checks burn with that irritating flush of embarrassment. He smiles smugly at me.
“I know that,” I grumble, feeling my ASP against my thigh and the press of the splint on my injured arm, both of which wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for him. I might not be here if it weren’t for him and Trent. I’m starting to owe a lot to a lot of people and I’m thinking that debt is another thing I lived without before all of this started. It’s also something I have to sink deeper into.
I level my gaze on Crenshaw, stowing my doubts, my girly blushes, and getting down to business.
“I’ll need more help than just Helios here,” I tell him, jutting my thumb at Ryan. “I’ve considered going to The Hive, but—“
Crenshaw leaps from his chair, his staff tossed aside carelessly. I have no idea where he got it from, maybe he conjured it from air and rage, but there’s a long gleaming dagger suddenly in his hand.
It’s pointed at my face.
“You will not,” he says, his voice sounding cavernous and strange, “talk about The Hive in my house.”
Chapter Seven
Ryan and I are on our feet immediately, instinct kicking in. We’re whipping out our weapons before we can even think. Crenshaw pauses, looking from one weapon to the other, his breathing erratic.
“Master Crenshaw,” Ryan says calmly, as though he’s not holding the Punch of Death pointed at the guy, “we have no quarrel with you. We never have. We want no violence. Can we all be calm? May we stow our weapons and sit again as friends?”
It’s nice to know it’s not only me. That I’m not the only one who has to slip into character like I’m reading from King Arthur’s diary in order to talk to this guy. He watches Ryan for several long, tense moments before nodding his head and taking his seat.
“Please, sit. I apologize for my outburst. My tempers, they flare at the mention of the Zealots but they burn with fire eternal when I’m forced to think of… the others.” Crenshaw takes a deep breath as we sit down again, both of us a little further back from the table than we were before. “You mustn’t go to them. Promise me.”
Ryan and I glance at each other, unsure. I have no desire to break a promise to Crenshaw but if all else fails, I made a promise to the people in the Colony as well. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up betraying someone’s trust.