War Stories
Tenterden, Early-March 2008
"Mihai, you know I prefer to drive," Wolf complained as I put him firmly into the passenger seat of his own BMW.
"Yesterday you were unconscious," I answered, firmly, "this time, I'm behind the wheel."
"I'm fine."
Which, of course, was actually true. As she had the last time, Dr Haley had commented on the speed of his recovery, and I had verified for myself that this time it was even faster. Whatever the heck it was that Andrés and I had seen standing over him, which I think had brought him round, it had accelerated his rate of healing such that by yesterday evening, the only remaining signs of what five days before had been life-threatening injuries, with no certainty of when he'd come around, were a few aches and pains which may well have actually been psychological.
It certainly wouldn't have helped my case for taking him home to admit that he was almost certainly in better shape than I was. While my various sword cuts, grazes and bruises had largely healed (after all, they were nothing like as serious), healing broken ribs was getting to be tedious.
Seeing Samantha again...that had been difficult. We'd only had dinner a couple of times, and I'd made no secret of the fact that I was trying to figure out an existing relationship on those occasions, but I still got dramatic sighs when I told her I was married. Part of me wonders if she'll turn her attentions to her patient now, as she did seem particularly attentive to him this time around.
"Humour me," I said, firmly, and got behind the wheel. I sank into the leather seat, enjoying the luxury, and started the engine.
I don't know. Maybe it was cruel to pick him up in his pride and joy, and relegate him to the left seat, but damn it's a fine auto to drive, and I don't get the option normally. And out of our stable of cars, it was either that or the Bentley. No way was I taking a convalescent home in a Morgan or a Land Rover.
He fell silent, leaned back into the seat and closed his eyes. He seemed surprisingly peaceful, given how torn up he had apparently been after learning of Kaylen's death, and I wondered what had changed. Had he seen the same thing we had? And yet I'd swear he only woke up as it was fading.
Still, I quickly realised that as I drove, he wasn't as peaceful as he looked. I could see his feet twitching when he thought I ought to be braking sooner than I did, or changing gear more promptly. However, we made it home to Wittersham House in one peace and Carmichael helped him out of the car.
"Welcome home, Master Wolf," he said, with the trace of a smile, "I am very pleased to see that you're recovered."
"Thank you, Carmichael," he said, taking the other man's hand and shaking it firmly, his expression warm, "I hope Soren's been behaving himself."
"Mrs Carmichael and Ms Dane have been looking after him, and Billy has taken him out for a ride this afternoon. But he'll be pleased that you're back."
I think Wolf was going to say something, but before he could, he was interrupted by an imperious meow, and ducked down to pick up Ava. The moment he did, she started purring fit to burst, snuggling her head into his neck and taking root there.
"Someone's pleased to see you," I said, lightly, "let's head inside."
I moved to grab the small bag of what few possessions he'd had in the hospital out of the boot, but winced as I realised I'd moved too quickly. I don't know if Wolf noticed, but Carmichael certainly did, and promptly took it from me and gave it to Christopher to take upstairs. Then he faded into the background to find coffee, leaving us to head into the library, Ava fast asleep up Wolf's arm. He settled himself carefully into one of the deep leather armchairs, obviously still suffering from a few aches and pains, as well as trying to avoid disturbing the cat. But compared to the state he'd been in on the makeshift operating table in the billiard room a week before...
No sign of that remained now. Carmichael and Christopher had eradicated any traces of it, and the medical cupboard had been restocked. But I could still see my son's broken body in my mind. For the third time in less than six months. How many times could he take that kind of damage before he just wouldn't be able to come back? And how many times could I take finding him that way?
Carmichael came in a short while later, and deposited a large pot of coffee and two mugs in front of us. The sugar bowl he placed within easy reach of my son, knowing that on any given day, Wolf could have between one and five spoons of sugar. For someone who loves good food, he does hideous things to coffee. Once Carmichael had gone, I poured, put milk into his mug - keeping mine black, as always - and then glanced up at him.
"I think it's a three day," he said, chuckling, and I doctored his coffee and handed it to him. He took a sip, then rested it on the table beside him, and looked at me. "I guess I owe you an explanation, don't I?"
"It would be nice. Believe me when I say I never want to have to bring your bleeding body home again, and having to live through the whole panic of not knowing if you're going to make it."
"I'm sorry."
"Why? Why did you do it?"
"How much do you know about what happened at the Lynx Castle?"
"I know it was bad, and I know Geran's son died."
"He was Geran's was he? That I didn't know, but looking back, he did have that look. I assume Lex was okay?"
"He's fine. He's staying with his father."
"Good...that child is going to need looking after. I'm not sure he's really quite all there, mentally."
He paused, drank more coffee, then continued.
"I assume you know by now that Kaylen was your nephew?"
"From another sister my bloody father hadn't bothered to tell me about. Yes."
"Your bloody father? Oh that doesn't sound good."
"I just don't know where I stand with him. Or even if he actually gives a damn about me. At the wedding, he seemed so friendly, and I thought that everything was good between us. And yet after I found out about Melanie, he was distant...almost cold. And he just won't tell me how more bodies are out there."
"Maybe there aren't any more?"
"I wish I could believe that. But even if there aren't, I still had the right to know about my own brothers and sisters. Christ, I wasn't even allowed to know about my own twin until after I came to Amber."
"Maybe he was trying to protect you...you spend a lot of time trying to protect me."
"And I do such a bang up job of that," I snorted.
"Mihai, I'm here," he said, quietly, "you're doing something right."
"What happened, Wolf?"
"Kaylen was supposed to be the Lynx Cult's Lammas sacrifice. I tried so hard to stop it, but I failed. His cell was trapped and between us, Andrés and I missed one. Unfortunately, it was the fatal one. You can guess where my mind went from there."
"Only too well."
"I was thinking, why me? Haven't I served enough in that capacity in this life? And learning he was your nephew. My cousin. And I thought I'd killed him. Then Matthew started off by insisting that despite his Bleys blood, House Brand would deal with it exclusively...as if that fact that we was also of Bleys's line was irrelevant...it was all too much and I cracked. I had to get away, although looking back, I'm not sure if I wanted to hit something, or I wanted something to hit me. Very, very hard."
"I get the idea," I said, quietly, not liking the mental image was that what he actually wanted, was to be punished for failing Kaylen, "if it's any consolation, Geran has been in touch since about the funeral, and wants us both to be there."
"So kind of them to think of us," Wolf answered, coldly, "I'll see if I have a gap in my busy schedule."
"It wasn't like that," I replied, gently, but decided it wasn't worth starting an argument with him, "anyway, go on..."
"I rode off into Shadow, trying to get as far away from that cursed place as I could. I didn't really have anywhere in mind. I just needed some time to myself. By evening, I'd made a lot of distance. I found a big city where I could be anonymous, and went looking for a fight. That first evening, I ended up at one of those MMA contests, and volunteered when the MC invited members of the audience to challenge their champion. I won, too...but that's another story.
Next morning, I still wasn't ready to come home, so I rode on. As I did, I realised that the worlds around me were changing. Getting less civilised and more broken. I let it pass as I figured it was my subconscious mood affecting things. Anyway, by early evening I ended up in a London analogue, and that's where things went wrong.
They say you should never go back to somewhere you used to live once you've moved on. I made the mistake of going round to Lancaster Gate, once I'd realised where I was. It was pretty much all gone, which as you can imagine didn't improve my mood any. And the next thing I knew, I was being set on by a hoard of feral kids. I guess they wanted the bike, which I still had at that point. God knows what happened to it after. Trouble was, being kids, I didn't want to fight them. And they had no such qualms."
He paused, drinking some of his coffee, and then sitting back while Ava stretched and rearranged herself.
"Somebody got me on the head with a bit of masonry. When I woke up, I was in a cell. A couple of hours later, I was dragged upstairs into what looked like some kind of royal court. The guy on the throne was a redhead."
"Lord Antono," I offered.
"You met him?"
"I saw him at the arena, playing at being Caligula."
"Wasn't Caligula supposed to have been a redhead?"
"I think he was, now you mention it."
"Anyway. I was dragged in front of him, and informed that I'd broken local law. I'd trespassed somewhere I shouldn't have been, and I was sentenced to fight in the arena. At that point, I actually wasn't that worried: he'd neglected to mention the ‘to the death' part. I know I'm fast and strong, and while my head was splitting from that well-aimed rock, and I had a few cuts and bruises from the MMA fight, I felt in good shape. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I welcomed the challenge. I was naïve enough to think that a fair fight was what he had in mind.
He put me right in short order, when he passed his final judgment. ‘Take the wolf to the fighter pits, make sure he's beaten and drug him to keep him quiet. He fights in ten days. Make sure he cannot win.' I tried to struggle and while I took a few of them out, in the end I was forced to my knees. He came over, did something to me which reminded me of what you to when you interrogate prisoners, and from then on things are a lot less clear."
"I'm not liking the pattern here," I commented, "first, when you were out on your own after Germania, someone picked you up intentionally, to get at me. It sounds like this Lord Antono also knew exactly who you were. And I sure as Hell don't like the idea that he was screwing with your mind."
"Maybe he's just a sadistic bastard who likes making people into puppets," Wolf answered, "but who knows. One thing is certain. Too many people know you give a damn about what happens to me, Mihai. Neither of us have hidden it. Maybe we should have."
"Too late now. But dammit, they shouldn't keep hurting you to get to me."
"It's perfectly in character for most of them," he said, with a shrug, "Especially the elders. Thanks to Bleys, I have rank in Amber in my own right, as your heir, but because I'm another generation down, maybe I'm seen as an easy target. Hurting me hurts you, probably more effectively than if they attacked you directly. If they were to kill me, what would it do to you? Would you even stay in Amber and maintain your support for Bleys?"
"I suspect I wouldn't, no. Not knowing it had cost me your life."
"As I've said to you before, there are reasons I stay away from that Hellhole. "
"And yet Shadow doesn't seem to be safe for you either."
"Maybe. But despite what's happened - with this, and the thing with Caine, if it was Caine, and the Lynx Cult - I'm not going to let them take the freedom of Shadow away from me, the way they have Armand. And I'll get them back for that eventually, too," he said, with a shrug, but in his eyes, I could see that he meant it literally.
He emptied his coffee cup and put it down beside him. I refilled them both, then sat back down.
"After that, it was as if I was locked into my own head and couldn't get out, which scared the Hell out of me. My body went about its business without me. I was trained for the arena, but it was all automatic: more as if I was being taught pre-conditioned motions rather than actually fighting of my own free will. I was beaten if I didn't learn my lessons properly. Booze and sex were my rewards when I learned right. But apart from occasional flashes of lucidity, I don't remember specific people and I don't remember anything that was said. I don't know if it was what he did, the drugs I was given by the trainers, or some combination thereof."
"What about that final fight in the arena?"
"Have you ever been at war with yourself? In the arena, I knew you were there, but I couldn't say anything: I couldn't communicate with you. I was fighting, but my conscious self knew I wasn't doing it well enough. I was defending, but it seemed sluggish and I knew it wasn't going to be enough. I tried to force my own will through it all, but I only had limited success. I would have died if you hadn't been there."
"But I was, and you didn't."
"No, thank God. How did you find me?"
"I went looking for you. I didn't leave the castle much more than a couple of hours after you did, but you were moving bloody fast...I couldn't get that speed on a bike in Shadow."
"It's a mindset thing. You have to think about riding. You don't become one with the bike. I let instinct take over, which gives me more time to shift. Go on."
"I reached that place the evening you were due to fight. My first thought was that it was voluntary - that you were working off your aggression. But when I saw you brought in, I realised that you were well out of it. I thought you were just drugged, but it sounds like it was more than that. And you were up against a dozen opponents. Normally, I wouldn't have been worried, but it was so obvious that something was fundamentally wrong with you, that I knew this time was different. So when the Master of the Arena asked if anyone was willing to fight with you, I said yes."
"What would you have done if he hadn't?"
"I'd have walked onto those sands anyway. I just might have had more trouble getting off them again."
"So there were a dozen, were there? They just seemed to keep coming, and coming and I couldn't keep track. Every so often, I could force my way through and do something conscious, but most of the time I was trapped."
"I did what I could to help you, and between us we killed them before they killed us. But for you it was touch and go."
"And you? Don't think I haven't noticed that you're moving carefully again - despite you insisting on driving me home."
"A couple of sword cuts and some broken ribs, of which the ribs only still really an issue. Maybe I'm doomed to heal slowly from busted ribs. But it was nothing to what happened to you."
"We got out alive. That's all that matters. What was the reaction when you offered to help me? Did Lord Antono recognise you?"
"He seemed far too happy when I stepped forward for him not to have done. Maybe he was hoping he'd take us both out. Although whether Bleys would give a shit if that happened, I'm actually not sure."
"Mihai, surely things between you and your father can't be that bad."
"That's the trouble. I really don't know. I try to reach out to him, but I don't seem to get anywhere, and my gut tells me he wishes John was the elder twin."
"But still, surely he wouldn't want you dead?"
I looked at him, and shrugged. "Who knows. If I died, he'd probably just throw a parade to cheer himself up and then move on."
"You have to fix that...make things right with him. Or nothing either of us have been through will be worth a damn."
"That's an argument for another day," I answered, and he locked eyes with me, obviously frustrated. I just shook my head and looked away, and he took the hint and dropped the subject. For a few moments, the only sounds in the room were the ticking of the clock, and tiny feline snores from Ava, still asleep up his shoulder. And then he broke the silence.
"Go on with your side of the story."
"Antono wasn't at all happy when we won. However, the rules had been clearly stated: the team that survived got to walk away, and we survived. But that didn't extend to them offering to give you medical attention. I was ordered to take your body and go, and I had no choice but to do that. I walked away, found somewhere sheltered, and tried to heal you. But it was too much. The combination of a day chasing after you in Shadow, followed by the fight, and it was all I could do to stop you actively bleeding. I was too tired to even recognise the internal injuries. I did what I could to defend us, and then passed out. And eventually, Armand called and got us out of there. Then I called Carmichael, and he brought us home."
"And Andrés? How did he get involved?"
"Apparently he was worried about you after the castle. From what Armand said, they were all set to go looking for you themselves, but he thought to call me first, just in case. He was there when we came through, and took it on himself to play surgeon. Which given that I was in no fit state, was probably just as well. He operated, I helped, and eventually we stabilised you enough that you were safe to transport to Ashford Hospital."
"Where I stayed out of it for five days."
"We did our best to minimise the risk of infection, but Andrés wasn't operating in the best of circumstances...the billiard room isn't exactly sterile...and we didn't stop it altogether, but at least it was manageable. But then you just didn't seem to be coming round. He insisted on staying on around until you were awake...which I'll admit I had mixed feelings about, but I couldn't really deny him, given that he'd saved your life..."
I paused for a moment, trying to decide how to phrase what I wanted to say next, in a way that wouldn't offend him deeply.
"What's wrong?" he asked, cautiously.
"Is there something I should know about you and Andrés?"
"He's my friend...I've been helping him negotiate the Amber minefield, as he doesn't have anyone else to guide him."
"Nothing else?"
"Like what?"
"It's just he seemed so...attentive, when you were unconscious. Possessive, even."
"You do the same thing with your patients, when you're actually officially playing trauma surgeon."
"It was more than that. Sometimes, I felt he believed he had more right to be there than I did, and truth be told, it got my back up."
"You sound jealous."
"I wasn't expecting it, especially given that we barely know him."
"Maybe you barely know him. Artur, Armand and I have seen quite a lot of him over the last few weeks. And he was there when I had my meltdown at the Lynx Castle. You weren't."
"I would have fought with you there if you'd asked. But you didn't," I answered, and I realised that I sounded hurt. Which I was: even my family seem to exclude me from things nowadays, even fighting the Lynx Cult.
"We didn't go looking Lynxes. I took Armand and Andrés out to teach them more about how Shadow works. Armand's getting pretty good with it now, even if I'm not sure he'll ever venture out on his own. Andrés...didn't do so well. And as we were travelling, we met Lex, and he told us about the castle."
"And then you called Matthew."
"Armand called Matthew," he answered, stressing his son's name, "because we needed some troops. And let's be honest, you don't have any on hand for emergencies."
"Maybe I should acquire some."
"You still sound jealous," he answered, "strangely, I do have some friends besides you."
As I met his gaze, I noticed that while his tone was joking, but his eyes weren't. They were challenging me to back off.
"Forget it," I answered, hurriedly, and buried my face in my coffee cup, the feeling of hurt not getting any less.
Ava stirred on his shoulder, maybe wakened by the increased tension, and then stretched and jumped down. He watched her go with regret, and then glanced back over at me.
"Think about it logically," he said, "realistically, just how good an idea would it really be for you, me and Armand to all be in the same gunfight? The airstrike principle and all."
Unfortunately, there he had a point.
"I guess I'm just feeling like I'm not doing anything useful at the moment," I answered.
"What you're doing in Amber is important...useful. You know that as well as I do. But useful and exciting aren't the same thing. You like excitement, always have. And when I was in trouble, you came for me and you ended up fighting with me. There's no-one else I would have preferred to have my back just then. No-one."
"You would have done it for me."
"Yes. And whatever is really troubling you about my friendship with Andrés, remember this. You are my father, and my friend. No-one can change that."
He paused for a moment, and we sat in silence, listening to the crackling of the fire. And eventually, he spoke again.
"There is one other thing. The final footnote to this whole business, if you will. Something happened to me in the hospital."
He leaned his right elbow on the arm of the chair, and unbuttoned his cuff. Then he did the same with his left. As was no doubt his intention, the gesture reminded me of one he'd made the first time we talked after what had happened to him in Germany, many years ago.
"The scars have gone..." I said, surprised, as I realised what I was he was showing me, "how?"
"I think it was the angel."
I glanced at him, curious. Apparently he had seen the same thing Andrés and I had, and while we weren't completely sure what we had seen, he obviously was.
"I believe they exist. I am Catholic, after all, and I think I've seen them before..."
"When?" I asked, genuinely surprised now.
"One time, when I was living in Scotland, I was Hunting with Adam. We were in a very bad place, and he asked his Master for help. I figure his Master is probably Michael, which would make sense given that he's patron saint of soldiers and policemen, although Adam's never said it openly. But shortly afterwards, the place was bathed in light and we could see avenging figures. And once it faded, all the evil was...gone. And I mean it. Just...gone.
He tailed off as he saw what was probably a surprised look on my face.
"Indulge me, Mihai. I really haven't gone crazy."
"I never thought you had...angels are part of your Faith. But I'm not sure what this has got to do with the hospital."
"It hasn't. You just looked surprised that I'd seen them before."
"You must admit, it isn't a normal topic of conversation."
"No. I suppose not," he admitted, "especially given our respective beliefs. But anyway, the one in the hospital was different. She wasn't an angel of vengeance. She was like Florence Nightingale on steroids. Something truly...good. She came to me, and put me at peace, and helped me to heal."
His expression looked...awed, for want of a better word, and in my heart I was jealous that he could feel that way.
"She even freed my mind from whatever Antono had done to lock it down. She also helped me to understand that far from failing Kaylen, I really did help him. I helped him avoid a fate truly worse than death, and now he's free to take another turn on the wheel when the time is right. And when I woke up, I felt healed, in body, mind and soul. I wonder if, maybe, she decided that I'd borne my scars long enough."
"I hope so Wolf. I really do."
"I only wish she could do the same for you, Mihai. You're wounded: especially in your relationship with your father."
"Yeah, well, she obviously didn't think I was worth saving."
He looked at me, puzzled.
"Did you see something as well?"
"Briefly, as I was waking up. I wondered if I'd imagined it, but Andrés saw her as well. Then you opened your eyes, and she was gone, so I guess she was only there for you."
He looked at me and I could see sadness in his eyes.
"Oh Mihai. She was a thing of love and beauty. I wish that meant the same to you as it does to me."
"You have your Faith. My beliefs aren't the same. Maybe, in the end, yours was the right way after all, and I really am a pagan sinner who's doomed to suffer for eternity. But at least she brought you back. So for that I thank her."
I could see that he wanted to say something, but before he could, Soren came bursting into the room, Carmichael hot on his heels, and the moment was broken.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said, looking at me apologetically, "I told him that you were busy, but he wanted to see Master Wolf."
"That's fine, Carmichael," I said, getting to my feet, "we were done anyway."
"In what way were we done, Ian?" Wolf asked, the sadness still evident as he looked at me.
"You'd told me your story," I answered, "now be with your son. I have stuff to do."
As I walked out, I could hear Soren's excited voice as he welcomed his father home, but I couldn't face listening to it. More than ever, it reminded me of the fact that I was never allowed to be with Wolf - or Artur - when they were that age, or play with them as they grew. Instead, I headed out into the garden and made my way to the mock ruin, and the gazebo nestling within it.
The Group's temple is normally a place of comfort for me, even in the chill of early March. But today I felt nothing, and I found myself wondering if maybe the beliefs of the Group had been false all along. In the end, I couldn't take it. I headed over to where I'd planted the gift Dara had given me. Maybe one day I'd understand what she’d given me, but for now, it was just a two-foot high stick in the ground with little more to relieve its simple monotony than perhaps the first trace of a spring bud. It suited my mood perfectly.
In silence, I sat cross-legged beside it, uncaring of the dampness of the grass, and then closed my eyes to try to centre. But that didn't work either, and in the end I just sat there, feeling more empty than I had for a long time.