Matt Archer: Bloodlines (Matt Archer #4) (9 page)

Johnson crushed up the eucalyptus leaves and dropped them in
the bowl of water Davis had conjured up from somewhere. The scent of a thousand
cough drops filled the tent.

“That’s pungent,” the colonel said, wrinkling his nose.

Will leaned over the bowl, taking a big whiff before
sneezing. “Yes, sir.”

“Keep breathing it in,” I told him. “And I’ll tell you a
story.”

A hush fell among the group. “Eight hundred years ago, one
of your ancestors, Andre d’Cruessan, joined the Knights Templar and fought in
the first crusades. From there, he married a duchess and became a wealthy
landowner. Long story, short? You’re distantly related to Charles the V.”

“Are you kidding me?” Will’s voice sounded snotty. Probably
from the eye-burning steam coming out of that bowl.

“Nope. But wait, there’s more,” I told him, eager to share
this next bit. “I know why Norseman got to you today.”

“And?” he asked.

“Your family is descended from the Normans.”

“Like from Normandy? Where that big World War II battle
was?” he asked. “That’s not a big deal—my great-grandparents came to America
from France just before the war, to escape all the troubles.”

“Huh, I didn’t know that,” I said. “But the Normans I’m
talking about are the Viking clans who conquered northern France in the 800s
and inhabited the Normandy region.”

Johnson’s jaw dropped. “Wait—you’re saying Cruessan’s a
Viking
?”

I nodded. “Get it? The French called the Vikings “North
men”—Normans. But others called them Norsemen. So when Carrie said, ‘Find the
Viking’ in her note, she meant both the town
and
Will. I think that’s
why she was asking for him when she found me today.”

“Huh,” Dad said. “Interesting how it all fits together.”

And it did fit. Will was a monster when it came to football
and knife-wielding. Is that what Coach Shaw saw? A fighter whose family
pillaged and plundered their way across Europe and the Middle East for
centuries?

And if that’s what Coach Shaw saw in Will, what did Tink see
in me?

Will snorted, which set of a fit of coughing from the steam.
“So you’re telling me I’m a Viking who’s related to King Charles the V?”

“That’s what Mamie said.”

“It’s not so hard to believe.” Uncle Mike smiled. “Hail,
William, the Viking King.”

Almost like the words held some sort of magic over him, Will
fell back from the bowl, clutching the sides of his head. His entire body
spasmed as he coughed, then coughed again.

Each time he did, a tiny bit of
something thick and dark trickled from his nose and mouth.

We scrambled over to try to help him, but after one last
herculean cough, a wad of tar-looking stuff flew from his mouth and landed in
the bowl, where it sizzled.

Will sat, panting, with his face in his hands. “Shit, that
hurt.”

“No doubt,” I told him. “You okay?”

“I think so.” He lowered his hands and blinked a few times.
“I can see!”

“That stuff…” I said, pointing at the smoking water. “It
must have been the remnants of the demon.”

Carrie actually knew what she was doing. Which meant Dad was
right—her abilities weren’t natural. A feeling of unease mixed with respect for
Carrie stirred in my chest.

Witchcraft was real. And dangerous.

Will smiled at me, breaking into my thoughts. “Man, I forgot
how ugly you are.”

I bent over in a clumsy bow. “Whatever you say, my liege.”

Johnson started laughing. “I’m going to start calling him
King Viking from now on, you know that, right?”

“I’m going to call him Sir Cruessan,” I said, grinning.

“If I weren’t so glad to have my sight back, I’d put you in
a headlock for that.” Will scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Mon Dieu.
Pourquoi est-ce qui m'arrive?”

The tent fell dead quiet. Will looked around at all of us,
his forehead scrunched. “What?”

“What did you just say?” I asked.

“You heard me,” he said. “I asked why this was happening to
me. N'étiez-vous pas écouté?”

I took a step back. “Okay, I’m officially freaked out.”

Johnson was staring at Will like he’d grown an extra head.
“I’ve seen a lot of weird-ass things the last few years, but this…I don’t know
what this is.”

“Sérieusement, what’s up with you guys?” Will asked,
sounding a little peeved.

“You do realize you’ve started speaking French, right?”
Uncle Mike asked, his forehead creased with concern.

“I am not. And this isn’t the time to punk me.” He sank down
in the chair across from Colonel Black. “Merde.” He leapt up from his seat.
“Oh, my God, I am. I
am
speaking French! What’s going on with me?”

He learned a truth about himself. It’s not going to
bottle itself up that easily,
Tink said. She seemed amused by the whole
thing.

“Did you know this would happen?” I asked.

“No!” Will said.

I waved him off, waiting for Tink to answer.

We…theorized that you might start adopting the traits of
your fathers as you grew closer to us. It’s not completely unexpected. Will’s
been through an ordeal and passed through to the other side. That awoke
something in him.

“I’ve been through a lot, too. Is something freaky going to
happen to me?” I asked.

It’s already started.

“What did?”

You met him.

I took a slow breath. “I don’t understand.”

If you want clarity, I’m not the one to ask.

She withdrew from my mind, leaving me alone to deal with the
idea that my dad had answers. Which meant I had to ask him the right questions.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Will said. “Coach Shaw’s
laughing, and I know Tink spilled something.”

“She said we’re taking on traits from our ‘fathers,’” I
said. “Don’t let it bug you too much. That’s what the knives saw in us to begin
with—the blood of our fathers. There had to be something in your family tree to
gain Coach Shaw’s notice, right?”

“I guess.” Will sighed. “I’m wiped. You taking first shift
tonight, or do I need to?”

The dark circles under his eyes hadn’t faded and he looked
ready to drop. The trip to Norseman had been harder on him than the rest of us.
Plus, there was the whole spewing out a demon thing—that would make anyone
tired.

“I’ll take first watch,” I said.

He waved and dragged himself into his tent, while I started
thinking about family trees…and wondering how to broach the subject with my
father.

After throwing out the eucalyptus water as far from camp as
I dared to go in the dark, I went to find Dad. He was bunking in Colonel
Johnson’s tent and had already headed there by the time I finished up in
Command. When I turned up, he was sitting on a flipped over crate outside his
tent, tying intricate knots into a shoelace, then untying them with one hand.

“Practicing your James Bond escape skills?” I asked.

“Manual dexterity exercises,” he answered. To prove his point,
he smiled up at me while untying the most gnarly knot without looking. “I’m
fairly good at it.”

“Guess so. Ever have to escape a Korean prison that way?”

“No, but even if I had, I couldn’t tell you about it.” His
smile faded. “You probably won’t believe me when I say leaving you was one of
my biggest regrets.”

“Let’s say I did.” I plopped down on the ground next to him.
“That’s theoretical, by the way, because I don’t actually believe you, but
let’s say I did. Explain why you left.”

He was quiet a while. “The same reason you’re out here.
Someone called, told me I was the only one who could do a particular job, and I
couldn’t say no.”

“Not even for me? Not for Mamie or Brent? Or Mom?”

“I heard your aunt say she misses your little cousin…what’s
her name again?”

“Baby Kate.”

“Hard to imagine Mike as a father. He’s more of a tumbleweed
than I am.” Dad tied another knot without looking. “Anyway…they both miss their
kid, but they’re
here
, protecting others from harm. Are they indifferent
about Kate? Do they not care about her?”

 “Of course they care about her,” I said, indignant
that he’d use Baby Kate to argue with me. “I’ve seen how Uncle Mike looks at
her, like he can’t believe she’s his. Every time she giggles, it’s like he’s
melting. She and Aunt Julie changed him all the way through.”

“And you three changed me, as did your mother,” Dad said
softly. “But there’s something you don’t understand about being a parent.
Sometimes the thing that most defines you becomes even more important once
you’re directly responsible for the life and well-being of your child.”

My relief at curing Will fled, making the raw mark on my
soul much too noticeable. I’d blamed myself for so long, believing he’d left
because of something I’d done, for not measuring up. Now…it sounded like I was
somewhat right. And that hurt. “So it’s my fault?”

“No, it was never your fault.” Dad sighed. “My job stopped
bad things from happening. It protected American citizens and our interests
abroad. So when I got my orders, I went. It wore on Dani, though. The worry,
the stress of taking care of you three. At some point, I think she decided it
was easier to be alone than waiting to see when—or if—I came home. And when I
realized I was hurting her, I left. No matter what they told you, my leaving
was never about protecting you from the people I pissed off in my line of work.
It was about protecting you from
me
.”

Every ugly thing I wanted to say died on my tongue. “What?”

“I’m not a nice person, son. At least not when I’m working.
I’ve been to some dark places and done some things that aren’t legal, strictly
speaking. Hell, I’ve done things that aren’t particularly moral, either.” Dad
stared across camp, in the direction of Mike’s tent. “Your uncle might’ve had
trouble settling down, but he’s a good man. Better for you to grow up under his
influence than mine.”

It would take a long, long time to digest this, but I also
realized he didn’t really understand me, not yet. “You think I haven’t been to
dark places or done things I regret? I’ve gotten people killed. I’ve made
mistakes, been cocky, ran ahead without thinking, and it
cost
me.”

“Maybe, but your soul is still intact.” He let out a whisper
of a breath, one that sounded like it had a hint of prayer in it. “Somewhere
along the way, I’ve gone beyond redemption.”

“I’m sure you won’t tell me what that means, so listen to me
for a second.” I stood so he had to look up at me again. “Tink chose me,
me
,
because of my blood. The blood of our fathers, our family trees, were what the
knife-spirits were looking for when they searched for wielders. I’ve always had
a better connection to Tink than any of the other wielders had with their
spirits, and a crazy shaman-lady in Africa hinted that either Will or I would
be the one who saved the world. If you’ve gone beyond redemption, it didn’t
bother the spirits, and they know a lot more about this stuff than we do, so
think about that while you’re out here wallowing in your sins.”

I left him sitting on his crate, holding the shoelace limp
in his fingers. I hoped he’d think about what I said. Because what he’d done
for his job had no bearing on the fact that he was my father, and that I’d
needed him when I was a kid. Or that I still did. Or that I understood too well
what he was thinking, and disagreed with his logic. My job took a toll, but it
wouldn’t keep me from those I loved. Neither should his.

Either way, I wasn’t going to carry his baggage for him. I
had enough of my own.

* * *

We settled into the boring routine of deployment. Nights
were quiet; no new monsters crawled out of the darkness to attack camp. During
the day, while Uncle Mike and Dad ran teams out to the various tiny towns
within driving distance to see if we could gather any more intel on Nocturna
Maura, Will and I had to do our schoolwork online under the watchful glare of
Sergeant Davis. It was like having the worst substitute teacher ever. I
considered rigging the generator so the computers would stop working, but the
thought of Colonel Black’s reaction kept me from trying.

It was hard to stay focused, though. A lot of the new guys
gave us derisive looks every time we passed by, and conversations usually died
as soon as we showed up at chow time. Once, a few skirted around Will and me as
we walked through camp, muttering “freaks” at our backs. After that, I started
avoiding everyone from Colonel Black’s team when I could, spending all of my
free time with the wielder teams.

In the mornings, Will and I trained with Nguyen to help Will
regain some equilibrium after his blind spell. We found out pretty quick that
no matter how hard we tried, neither of us could outrun Nguyen at any distance.
For a short guy, especially one packed with muscle, he was crazy flexible, too.
In addition to the usual barrage of pushups, crunches and squats, he had us
doing this crazy mix of yoga and Tai Chi. Seriously, it had to be something he
made up himself, because no sane trainer would teach a class like this. He had
us bending ourselves into pretzels half the time.

In the evenings, after it cooled off a bit, Johnson ran us
through sparring drills, usually against each other, but sometimes he’d jump in
the middle just to catch us off guard. The most fun practice came after he
heard a couple of Colonel Black’s soldiers talking smack about all the
“dancing” we were doing, and how in a real, straight up fight—without the
knives—they’d kick our asses.

“Really? They said that?” Will growled.

Johnson laughed his rumbling laugh. “Oh, they sure did. You
gonna take that?”

“Hell no,” I said. “Out of curiosity, though…how big are
they?”

“You’ve got two inches and twenty pounds of muscle on the
bigger one.”