Ghost's Sight (6 page)

Ghost wandered out into the yard, looking up at the moon as it gilded the world pure silver. The peridot spiral in his forehead hummed as he reached up to trace it with a finger, feeling a pressure behind his eyes that had the hallmark of the Seeker, sending a dream of her own on the waves of the Sea.

“Not now,” Ghost muttered under his breath. He crouched to drag his finger through the loose soil of the path, tracing the marks of the Eight.

“The Father, he protects us, and the Lady, she guides us. The Hunter, he guards us, and the Farmer, she nurtures us. The Sea, he gives dreams, and the Moon, she gives love. The Seeker, she walks alone, for the End hides above.” Ghost looked up at the moon, smiling a little. “Is that it? I have to recite a child’s rhyme to figure it out?”

Like the Witch, Ghost looked to the Seeker, who held the hidden lore, and who held back her dread mate, but tonight seemed to belong to the Moon and her silver lover’s light. The stories said that the Lady would use the Moon’s light to guide people to their true loves, although Ghost had never thought about it before he met Gerry.

Ghost smiled even more, still feeling the pressure behind his eyes but not fearing it anymore. The path that led away from the Witch’s home toward the village was illuminated by the moon’s light. At the end of every path was a destination, the Witch said. The question was always whether or not it was where you wanted to be. And now the Moon shone her lover’s light on the path.

It could only be Gerry that waited, since Ghost hardly had a line of lovers to think about. It was exhilarating, the feeling that he was wanted, maybe even loved. Ghost knew sleep was not going to come for him tonight, even if he brewed a cup of chamomile tea.

Ghost thought about the conversation with Gerry this morning, and the way they had touched at dawn. Gerry had promised to come back, had made Ghost promise to wait, but Ghost wondered if it would be so wrong for him to seek Gerry out, as the Eight seemed to want. Gerry wanted to see him again, wanted a next time, and a time after that. Ghost’s heart did that silly thing again, skipping a beat and then thumping hard in his chest. For the first time, he wanted someone to talk to, someone with whom to share this feeling.

The Witch was already asleep, though, and Ghost did not fancy the idea of waking her. He looked up at the moon one more time. It was bright enough to see his way to the village. Although Ghost had always avoided the place, he would have to get used to living among the bustle of many people. Gerry needed to be in the village if Gerry was going to keep working with Mother. Ghost shivered a little with a mixture of anticipation and nerves as he took the first steps along the path.

***

Conn did not return for the evening meal. Both Gerry and Mother had gone to bed by the time Conn finally made his way home.

Gerry heard the front door, slipping out of bed to pad on bare feet into the kitchen, wrapping a towel around his waist to cover him. The moon was bright enough to illuminate the room without a candle. Gerry saw Conn, not nearly as drunk as Gerry would have expected. The younger man swayed a little and chuckled.

“There’s the brave wannabe alpha now,” Conn said, his voice husky from the smoke of the meadhouse. “Sleeping with one ear open to keep his dependents safe. Oh, wait a minute. I’m not your fucking dependent, am I? So where’s my alpha? Did you two have fun while I was gone?”

“Conn,” Gerry said, a note of warning in his voice. He was not about to let Conn wake Mother and turn everything upside down all over again.

Conn moved around the table to press himself against Gerry, his arms wrapping around Gerry’s neck. Gerry could see the glitter in Conn’s eyes as the kid tilted his face up, the mead sweet on his breath.

“I’m sorry,” Conn whispered. “Let me make it up to you. I’ve been a shit to you lately.”

Gerry could feel Conn’s cock pressing into his hip through the cloth of his breeches. Gerry reached around to try to loosen Conn’s arms, Gerry’s heart giving a strange thud in his chest.

“You don’t have to,” Gerry said, doing his best to be gentle. He did not want Conn, but Conn was pretty and adept at giving pleasure. Gerry was afraid his body would respond despite his mind’s objections. Mother had said it often enough, that walking on two legs did not take the animal out of the man.

Conn’s lips were soft as he trailed kisses along Gerry’s cheek until he reached Gerry’s mouth. “Please,” Conn murmured. “One last time, okay? I don’t know how else to say goodbye.”

“It’s not goodbye. I’ll still be here, in the village. I’ll be working with Mother.” Gerry groaned a little as Conn’s mouth reached his mouth, those tender lips far too skilled to be ignored. It was such a contrast to Ghost’s awkward kisses, but those had been all the sweeter because of Ghost’s innocence. The whole morning with Ghost had been sweet. Gerry felt a pang of guilt as he felt himself begin to respond to Conn’s kisses and to the lithe body in his arms. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Then don’t do anything. We’ll go to your room and you can just lie there. I’ll do all the work,” Conn said, his voice rough with need. His hand traveled down Gerry’s arm to Gerry’s waist, sliding around to rest in the small of Gerry’s back. “Come on, I know you want this. I can feel it.”

Gerry growled deep in his throat as he felt his traitorous body agreeing with Conn. His cock was stiffening even as he reached behind himself to grab Conn’s wrist. “I said no, Conn. You need to learn to listen.” Gerry shoved the younger man hard enough to push Conn into the table. “Go crawl into Mother’s bed and sleep it off. He puts up with your shit, although I’ll never fucking understand why.”

Shaking with anger and adrenaline, Gerry went into his room, closing the door behind him, leaving Conn alone in the moonlit kitchen. He sloshed a little water into the washbasin on his table, scooping up a handful to scrub at his mouth. He spit into the water for good measure before he tossed it out the window, into the scrubby grass of the yard. He peeled off the towel as he crawled into bed, pulling up the blanket and tugging his pillow over his head in case Conn decided to sob under his window in the hopes of rousing pity.

***

Ghost walked along the edge of the village, not quite sure about actually entering it. It was late, and he could smell the hearth fires from the houses, hear raucous laughter coming from one building that smelled like mead. Halfway to the village, Ghost had realized that he had no idea where Gerry lived in the village, not that directions would have helped him much. He was unfamiliar with the layout, and the landmarks Gerry might have given him would be either meaningless or obscured in the darkness.

A man stumbled out of the building that smelled so strongly of mead, chuckling to himself as he managed to recover his footing on the cobbled street. He looked up and saw Ghost, his smile wide.

“Ho, Norther. You’re new in town,” the man slurred, but he waved a hand, leaning into a building. “Lost?”

“A little,” Ghost replied, wary. “I was looking for Mother’s house.” He held himself poised to flee, sure that he could elude one mead-addled man even in the unfamiliar streets.

“I know Mother. His little Conn was here tonight.” The drunken man laughed again. “Okay, so you head up this street to the end, and then go to the off hand, on the dirt path, until you see a gray stone place with a blue door. That’s Mother’s house. You staying there?”

“Thank you,” Ghost replied, not wanting to answer the question. He was uncomfortable with telling someone things that were not true, but he was just as uncomfortable sharing too much information. It was the Witch and her sisters rubbing off on him. Much of their knowledge was closely guarded, and they did not look with favor on anyone who broke silence.

The man did not seem to notice Ghost’s lack of answer. “Lady guide you then, Norther.” He waved at Ghost. Ghost offered a tentative smile and then headed in the direction the drunken man had indicated.

As he walked, Ghost pondered the drunk’s name for him. It was obvious the mead drinker was referring to the Northlands, the frozen wastes at the top of the world where only the hardiest of people survived. The pure white furs they brought south to trade were in much demand, or so the Witch had told Ghost once. He had never seen such a luxurious thing himself, although he did not doubt the truth of the Witch’s story. The Witch had never mentioned his being from the Northlands, though. He wondered if she had found him down here somewhere, or if she had ventured to those wild places. It would have been like her to do so.

Ghost followed the cobbled road, before turning onto the dirt path at the end. He walked on for a few minutes until he reached a gray stone house. There was a yard surrounded by a low wall, and the house had a blue door. There were no lights on in the house as Ghost walked into the yard.

Ghost debated just leaving, when Conn strolled out from the small wash-house, his breeches undone and his hand cupping his sac as he scratched himself.

Conn stopped and looked at Ghost, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Well, look who’s here. No wonder Gerry was in a hurry to finish tonight. He never mentioned you were coming.” Conn withdrew his hand and began to lace his breeches.

Ghost felt the heat in his cheeks that meant his color was rising.

“He didn’t know.” Ghost turned around to leave, but Conn grabbed his arm, moving faster than Ghost anticipated. Ghost hissed, yanking his arm free, his voice low and furious. “Don’t touch me!”

“I’ll bet you don’t say that to Gerry. Not that I could blame you, really. His cock is gorgeous and he knows how to use it.” Conn’s smile was bright with malice. “He’s insatiable, too. You should go in and surprise him. I’m sure he can still manage another fuck.”

Ghost was still rubbing his arm where Conn had grabbed him. Everything about Conn screamed that Gerry’s fellow dependent was lying. Gerry had made it clear to Ghost that Gerry was not Conn’s lover, that the younger man was jealous and possessive even when there was no cause to be that way. Ghost did not want to believe that the Seeker was misleading him, unless she had sent him to see for himself that Gerry had lied to him. He did not think that was very likely, however. It was Conn who lied, it had to be, and Ghost felt a flare of unfamiliar anger.

“He doesn’t want you.” Ghost kept his voice low, not wanting to wake Mother or Gerry. “And you don’t really want him, either.” Ghost realized he had given Conn an opening in turn, a glimpse of what he feared, and his stomach twisted. He suspected that Conn had enough raw cunning to pick up on that, to use it to hurt him.

“I don’t really want him anymore, now that he’s touched you,” Conn retorted, flushing with anger. Ghost could see the realization dawn that he had just given the lie to his own claim to have just slept with Gerry. “Besides, what makes you think he wants a washed-out little fuck like you? You were just handy when he was hurting and scared.”

Ghost froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Conn. “You left. You made Mother take you home.”

“Were you listening, you little freak? Spying on us?” Conn sneered. “What makes you think a man like Gerry needs a witch’s fucking reject like you? You were just there when I wasn’t. Now he’s back home with me. Did you come to see if he was really going back to that shitty little hovel to get your sorry ass? Don’t count on it, you little freak.”

What Ghost had not known was how much it would hurt to hear his own fears thrown at him in that spiteful tone that Conn did so well. He had not expected that it would be so easy to believe that Gerry cared nothing for Ghost beyond a night’s comfort.

Most of all, Ghost had not understood how coming to Mother’s house could make him look afraid and desperate. He did not dare go in now to ask Gerry if Conn’s words were true. All he could do was return home, and hope Gerry would come for him despite Ghost’s breaking his promise to wait. He turned to leave before he made it any worse, as Conn gave a low, harsh laugh.

“Running away? I don’t blame you. No one wants a fucking freak like you. I’ll bet the Witch is going to be pissed that she’s getting you back. Not that you’d even be worth a sick runner as compensation.” Conn watched Ghost with that awful bright malice as Ghost hesitated before hurrying off into the night.

***

Ghost did not bother with the path, veering off into the woods instead. He knew by the moon’s shadows where the main path home would lie. For now, he preferred the cover of the trees, since he thought it unlikely that Conn would follow him there. His heart was pounding in his chest hard enough to hurt, the sickly twisting in his stomach made worse by the growing pressure behind his eyes.

Ghost berated himself as he walked through the massive trunks. He had broken his promise to the first person to treat that promise like it meant something. He had not even waited a day before coming to the village like a needy child looking for reassurance. The worst part was that he had not been this needy as a child. The Witch would never have tolerated it. She all but encouraged him when he would go off to find hiding places of his own, when he was angry with her or just frustrated.

Ghost barely avoided a tangle of roots, and then sidestepped a fall of strangler vines almost at the last minute, not paying much attention to where he was as he struggled with the mess he had made of things. He continued to berate himself for giving in to the urge to see Gerry again, and then handling Conn in so clumsy a manner. He had allowed himself to doubt Gerry. What if Conn told Gerry he had come, only to run away like a coward? Or worse, what if Conn said that Ghost had said or done something wrong? Ghost knew little enough about village life, and trying to figure out what could be right or wrong was enough to make his head throb.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that it was already too late when Ghost registered the sound of someone behind him. The rough sack that dropped over his head sent him into a panic. He tried to struggle, lashing out to no avail as large hands gripped him firmly. He felt a brief sting, and a single yelp escaped him. Then he was falling, his legs turned to liquid, unable to hold him. His last thought was that he should have woken Gerry, and then he felt his grip on consciousness fall away as he spiraled into darkness.