Legacy of a Dreamer (15 page)

“I did, you are, and now you’re on the ground. Are you hurt?”

Chantal peeled her eyes open with what looked like great effort. She lifted her head and glanced around, swaying with the effort, then slammed it back down as if were too heavy to hold up. She lifted her head again while she reached for the side of her head that had just hit the dirt.
 

“My head huuuurts, and I feeeel strrrange,” she said, still slurring her words.

“Your head hurts from hitting the ground. The strange feeling is from the Power of the Spirit that was in you as you yielded Father Ralph’s weapon in his honor. It was a sight to behold, an Oracle and the Spirit fighting as one,” Mathias said. He had never seen this union to this extent. He had witnessed some humans experience it in prayer and during worship, as well as a few of the older Oracles when comforting an over-wrought youngling, but never to this level.
 

“Is this what it feels like when you drink lotsss of alcohol?” Chantal asked, struggling with the word and pushed herself up onto one elbow. “I’ve never drank before in my life, but I feel amaaazing!” She reached and placed her other hand on his cheek. At the realization of their close proximity, he pulled back quickly causing her hand to slap his thigh before it slid down and rest next to her. She looked up him. Confused embarrassment quickly turned to giddiness.

“What’s wrong with her? Could she truly have experienced the Spirit so strong her first time?” Titus asked, his sword gripped in his hand. Both he and his blade were covered in thick, black blood.

“I have no idea,” Mathias answered. He watched Chantal, stunned at her odd behavior.

“I lied to yoooouuu.” She giggled. “I have drunk before. Nat stole some of Regina’s rum. It was naasty and made me sick, but it felt kind of like this.” Chantal pushed up on her elbows to sit up. She shook her head and pushed hard. Mathias grabbed her elbow and steadied her as she sat with her knees underneath her. She looked over his shoulder and screamed, “Father Ralph, noooo!” Using Mathias, she pulled herself to her feet and started toward his body. She took one unsteady step, wobbled and fell against Mathias out cold. He caught her before she hit the ground again.

“We need to get her out of here,” Titus grumbled, running a blackened hand through his blonde locks, turning them a muddy gray.

“What the hell?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll figure that out later. Pick her up and let’s get out of here.”

Mathias glanced down at the girl now cradled in his arms, just in time to hear a snore tear from her nose. With her eyes closed, she instinctively curled in closer to his chest, dead asleep. He glanced up at his brother who wore a matching expression of confusion and pride.

“Is she okay?” Andreu ran up to the group, panting from exertion. Lukas trailed close behind him.

“I don’t know. She doesn’t look injured.”

“What was that?” Lukas chimed in. “Did you see her kill those things? It’s like she was somebody else!”

“Are all the Seethers destroyed?” Titus said, redirecting them back to business at hand.

“Yes, brother. Those that were left behind when the Shade closed burst into ash once the sun peeked over the horizon.”
 

Lukas hadn’t taken his eyes off Mathias and Chantal while he answered the question. His expression seemed just as dumbfounded as the rest of the warriors, expecting her to look somehow different after what she had just accomplished.

Chantal snored and mumbled something incoherent, and Mathias frowned, wondering what really had happened to trigger such a stupor.

“I have heard of humans getting drunk in the Spirit, but never witnessed it personally, and definitely never an Oracle,” Andreu commented.

“Yeah, she never snores,” Mathias answered as he stared at her, not noticing the sudden silence that had fallen over the group. A couple of moments had passed before he finally glanced up. The other men were watching him with curious expressions. Lukas’s almost had a lewd edge to it, like Mathias’ comment about Chantal sleeping alluded to more than just an innocent comment.

“You would question my honor?” Mathias said. “I have been watching over her since she was nine years old.”

“You are right.” Lukas nodded. “Though, I’m sure you have noticed she isn’t nine anymore, brother.”

Mathias scoffed at the implication, making Lukas chortle.

“Enough, we must get her out of here, now,” Titus said. “We need to get her to a safe place. The Shade has closed, so we have to travel by foot. Time is now our enemy. We must get her hidden on hallowed ground once again.”

“Where’s Father Ralph?” Andreu asked, just noticing the priest’s absence. Titus glanced at Chantal’s sleeping form, his eyes narrowing in deep thought.

“He fell.” The mood turned somber, all humor forgotten. “Both you and Lukas stay behind to take care his body. He fell honorably protecting the innocent,” Titus ordered. All the brothers bowed with their closed fist over their heart in honor of his sacrifice. He then turned to Mathias, watching him stroke hair off Chantal’s forehead. “Matty—”

“Don’t call me that,” Mathias said. “That is not my given name.”

Titus smirked and bent down to his brother’s level.
 

“Maybe I should start calling you Nick then?” Titus joked, smiling when Mathias rolled his eyes. “Let’s get her out of here. The safe house is close, and it is time for her to know the truth.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’ve been hiding something from me?”

Titus shrugged in response, giving him a telling smile before heading in the opposite direction. Titus glanced over his shoulder, nodded once more at his fellow warriors, and took off running.

“Time to move,” Mathias whispered to Chantal as he cradled her close to his body before running in the same direction as Titus.

Snarling fangs, dripping blood, chaos all around. Sounds of a sharp blade zinging through the air, hitting something soft and forgiving made her sing in triumph. The power, the victory at her enemies defeat, served as an addictive force. Always the kind of person who’d avoid confrontation until left with no other choice, she felt like a different person as she picked up and fought with Father Ralph’s sword with eerie precision. Yet, behind that red haze of death, part of her feared her own actions.

   
In her dreamlike state, she could see the battlefield in front of her. She remembered those goat-like demons coming after her. Striking them down had been somewhat cathartic, the only comfort against the anger and injustice burning inside of her over the priest’s death. One by one, she’d taken down her enemy, her confidence growing with each strike, not understanding the resulting carnage until it was all over and she could look upon the gore, horrified that it had been by her hand and not her protectors. She felt a power within herself as she picked up the weapon that gave her the strength and ability to fight without fear or consequence.

Had she really caused that damage, created all of that carnage littering the ground?

While her mind wanted to deny the truth. She knew without a doubt that she’d done all of it. She could still feel the icy cold handle of the metal blade in her hand, the hard lines of its limitless strength digging into her palm.

“Chantal.”

She opened her eyes. Mathias sat beside her on a plain mattress and box spring, clutching her hand tightly.

“I was wondering when you were going to wake up.”

“How long was I out?” she asked, swiping a hand down her face and then back up, rubbing her eyes.

“About ten hours. It’s almost sundown.”

Ten hours? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept that long. The rest of what he’d said took a moment to sink in. When it did, she panicked. Did that mean the Kajola would be coming for her again once at sunset?

Her heart pounded and every muscle went rigid, as if preparing for another intense fight. The warrior inside of her stretched her arms, taking over her persona and thriving on the sudden rush of adrenaline. Was that what happened, her warrior had been awakened? She had a warrior inside her? She was a warrior?
 

A soothing hand brushed down her cheek, bringing her back into the present. Her mind reeled with so many unanswered questions. She would get those answers, but for now, she found comfort in the presence of her warrior.

“Don’t worry, beautiful. You’re safe here.”

Here . . .

Where were they?

“This is the closest hallowed ground from the cathedral,” Mathias said. “It’s part of an old warehouse the diocese set aside for emergencies. I guess they practiced some kind of rituals here in the past. Lucky for us, sacred ground never falters or changes.”

Chantal swiped her hand over her sweaty brow as she took the place in. Comprised of gray cement, the small room had no windows and only one door for in or out, making her feel safe, and claustrophobic at the same time.
 

“How are you feeling?” he asked. His expression warmed her heart, while her mind kept bringing up the images from the disjointed, violent memories she’d rather forget.

“I’m not sure. Everything is kind of foggy.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Chantal thought about that for a moment before she nodded.

“I do, but it’s like I’d watched it from the outside looking in. I don’t know how to explain it. I just remember seeing the priest die, and then getting really upset. After that, it’s as if a light switch flipped and I was watching myself grab Father Ralph’s sword and go after the goat-like creatures. Is it weird that I liked how watching her made me feel?”

“Yeah . . . it was indeed something to behold. It’s kind of hot, though.” Mathias looked down as if embarrassed by his words.

“What?” Chantal laughed at his observation. “Me going Xena, Warrior Princess is hot?”

Mathias nodded. “You fought with skill and honor as a warrior would. I believe that is what you felt. Something buried deep inside you was reborn.”

“I guess.” Chantal smiled, feeling proud all of a sudden, but her joy diminished when she saw his expression change.

“Also quite terrifying,” he said.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. She could understand how her behavior might have frightened him. If she were honest with herself, she was frightened as well. She sighed, hating the conflicting, yet, seductive emotions parading through her fragile mind.
 

“No, not you. It was seeing you surrounded by those Seethers and not being there protecting you as I should. If anything had happened . . .” His fear and honesty made him more human to her. The thought of him scared for her safety melted something inside her heart, making her feel more vulnerable. She was seeing her warrior in a new light that she did not fully understand. She steered away from it, focusing on some other explanation for his statement.

“You can’t be everywhere all of the time,” Chantal said, running her hand over his arm. He looked down at her hand, his muscle flexed underneath. She stilled her movements, afraid they were unwanted. He watched her hand fall to her side, a pensive expression marring his handsome features.

“I guess not,” he said, still staring at her hand. Chantal studied him for a moment before he looked up again. For the first time, she really looked at him. He looked tired, and she wondered if he ever slept. He remained such a mystery to her that she found herself second-guessing everything she knew about him. So many unanswered questions. Maybe now was a good time to ask and change the subject, for now. “So what happened out there?” she whispered, pulling her legs in. “Do you have any idea why I went all Bloody Mary?”

Bloody who?
Mathias thought.

“I don’t.” He sighed. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. But you’re kind of . . .”

“Unique,” she finished for him, and he nodded.

“Does that bother you?”

She sighed. “I guess I really haven’t had time to process any of this,” she replied honestly. “This has all been so far-fetched that none of it seems real.”

“I don’t seem real?” he asked. This time, it was his hand on her arm. Releasing a shaky breath, Chantal kept her gaze fixed on his skin on hers, not wanting to divulge more information to him with her always readable expressions.

“No, you’ve always seemed real to me, even when you were just a shadow watching over me at night.”

“You know,” Mathias said, clearing his throat and sounding uncomfortable. “I take my duty quite seriously, watching over my charge, but I never watched you without honor. Getting dressed, I mean. I always retreated back into the Shade when you were . . . well, you know . . . indisposed.”

Chantal smiled when she realized he was blushing. She’d never thought she’d see the day when the great warrior, Mathias, felt uncomfortable. “Sure you did,” she said. “I’ll bet you were the perfect gentleman. What, with a bedroom full of teenage girls, there couldn’t possibly be any motivation for you to stick around to sneak a peek.”

“I’d d-didn’t, I swear! You would question my honor as well?” He sounded so flustered that Chantal genuinely laughed for the first time in what felt like ages.