25. Chapter Twenty-Four
25
William
A fter Henry and his colleagues left, the army marched like hounds on a fresh scent. Soldiers joined from the south, thousands in the span of a week. Their forces infested the Deadlands like a sea of cockroaches. The generals used the information Heign’s Magical Society brought to prepare for a final battle, hopefully.
The troops eventually came upon Fearworn’s lab, taken over a week ago. A restless aura enveloped the troops, gleeful to sleep in a room, crowded or not, but joy dwindled upon their arrival. The citadel may have had high walls of solid rock to protect against the winds, countless rooms, and a wide center perfect for fires, but a Shimmer sat at that center. One of Fearworn’s, one of monsters. With or without the Sight, one saw the power around the Shimmer, flickering with dangerous energy.
William saw a few Shimmers up close. He never went through one to Faerie. Certainly never wanted to step through that one, to the realm unknown, if anyone even could. Rumors said a soldier died touching it, so none could fathom walking through it. But he was curious, as were others peering from a distance. His curiosity soon turned to worry concerning how many soldiers would fall to Shimmer Sickness, though.
The first night at the lab, he sat around the firepit with a dozen others. Oscar chugged a drink, listening to the chatter all assuming one thing; the final battle was upon them. William rolled his eyes. Soldiers erupted in laughter and cheer, expecting an end to the slaughter and cold. Nicholas disappeared, too. They hadn’t spoken since Henry shared those tales, where Nicholas learned even more. Somehow, the fae dug deeper, embedding himself in William’s life in a way that never should have happened.
William couldn’t stop thinking about Nicholas’ hand clutched in his and the soft hair tickling his neck, slow and steady breaths, the sweet scent and charming eyes that could fight back the most vicious of daydreams. How they laid in bed some nights talking about nothing. They bickered and William laughed and Nicholas kissed him and it felt good, right, normal, like everything he could ever want and more.
“Drink up!” Oscar bellowed, red-faced and bright-eyed. His shoulder bumped William’s and ale sloshed over the rim of his mug to dampen his pant leg. “Oh, uh, sorry, I’m…”
“Drunk,” William finished for him.
“Yeah, it’s wonderful.” Oscar laughed and finished the last of his drink in a gulp.
“Stay mindful,” William warned him. “I’ve spotted a few fae sneaking about looking for trouble.”
One stood out in the corner of his eye, a woman with sharp teeth and pale blue skin. She caught the attention of soldiers with her otherworldly beauty. Drunk or sober, it didn’t matter. Many fell for fae charms. WIlliam couldn’t blame them any longer, considering what happened with Nicholas. Nevertheless, he kept his eye on the men. If they made any move to follow her away from the campfires, he would step in. He didn’t want them taken advantage of, limping to medical come morning, or worse, brought in a bodybag.
“I ain’t goin’ near any fae,” Oscar slurred and hiccuped. “No worries, no worries, but more drinks!”
The soldiers cheered and William felt Charmaine tense beside him.
“Is your headache still bothering you?” he whispered to the poor girl trying her best not to wince. She nodded. “Shall I walk you to your room?”
“No, I want to celebrate too,” she argued over the rim of her mug. A familiar spark shimmered within her eyes; hope. “I pray to the Souls their assumptions are right, that the end is almost here. I won’t ask what you think.”
“That would be for the best.”
“Has he mentioned anything?”
William knew she meant Nicholas. “No, we haven’t talked in a few days. The last we spoke, he mentioned this.” William gestured toward the towering citadel around them. Fires ran along the walls, torches burning bright in the suffocating gloom. His attention shifted to the man speaking with the fae woman along the outskirts of the firepits.
“You make it sound like this isn’t a big deal,” Charmaine said.
“I don’t mean to sound pessimistic, but I rather not get my hopes up, either.”
“I know.” She patted William’s leg. His tension eased a smidge when the man wandered away from the fae to sit with friends, but then more loud voices joined those around the firepit. A familiar face stepped forward, Theodore, the man who tormented Charmaine during her recruitment days. The flames lit his flushed features, eyes dreary and far away.
“Tuckerton!” Theodore called, arms spread high and wide. His drink spilled over his hand and he cursed, though lapped up the drink and burped. He stumbled toward one of his buddies to throw a strong arm around his neck. Theodore pointed toward Charmaine and said, “Do you recognize him? Albie, Albie Tuckerton, that little shrimp from recruitment!”
“Let’s go,” William muttered, rising, but Charmaine did not join. The fire reflected in her angry eyes fixated on Theodore and the soldiers listening to his boisterous story. “This one was the smallest of our lot, can you believe that?” Theodore cackled and dropped into the seat William once had to throw a heavy hand on Charmaine’s shoulder. “You’ve grown quite a bit. You’re not still crying every night, are ya? We couldn’t get this one to stop wailing, begging for mommy to come get him.”
“That’s enough,” William warned. Theodore peered back at him. The drunk tried to look angry, but it leaned more toward constipation.
“You.” Theodore pointed and stood, swaying. “You stood up for the twerp back then, too, but I heard a little something about you.” Theodore leaned forward, his wretched breath burned William’s nostrils. “You bedded the guys in your unit, didn’t ya? Rather get fu—”
Charmaine shoved Theodore hard enough to toss him over the sitting soldiers. Oscar squeaked out a hiccup. The group jeered and cried, too drunk and excited about a potential fight to realize the unnatural power Charmaine had shown. She stormed forward. William caught her arm, perturbed the burst of anger and strength.
“Not here,” he said. Charmaine struggled against the hold dragging her from the fire. “He is drunk and you are the one who will meet trouble if you do anything. Leave him be, for now.”
Charmaine ripped her arm away and stomped into the shadows. William hurried after her into the citadel. Rusting torches lined the hallways, scarcely illuminating the interior. The citadel always smelled dank, like rain was about to fall. Charmaine threw open an old door creaking on its rusted hinges to a makeshift sleeping area. Dozens of sleeping bags lay scattered throughout the room. None had taken to bed yet. The soldiers continued drinking merrily outside, their joy heard through the halls. The torchlight from the hall let William find a lantern situated on the floor. He lit it, holding the lantern high to inspect Charmaine’s heaving figure.
“Are you feeling alright?” He kept his distance. His gut told him to and his gut rarely led him astray.
Charmaine’s muscles tensed. Veins throbbed in her hands and neck. She breathed rapidly, then that breath ceased at the sound of Theodore’s voice.
“Hey, hey, I meant nothing by what I said. Gotta do what you gotta do out here!” Theodore laughed, stumbling up behind William from the hallway. He caught the fool’s arm in warning. Something didn’t feel right, but Theodore knocked the hold aside to clap a hand on Charmaine’s shoulder. “Don’t be so sensitive—”
Charmaine snapped Theodore’s neck. Theodore dropped. A broken bone stretched the flesh of his neck. William’s hand went for his revolver. Charmaine growled low in the back of her throat, eyes pure black, wrong.
“Charmaine,” he whispered, but couldn’t bring himself to point the gun at her. Every step she took toward him worsened the sweat pooling along his neck. She moved like a predator, calculating and watchful.
“You’re…you’re out of sorts,” he muttered. “Take a breath. Try to calm yourself.”
She lunged and he pivoted. The handle of his gun cracked against the back of her skull. Charmaine fell forward, whimpering, then motionless. He pointed the revolver at her back. The tip of his boot knocked against her leg. She didn’t move. He swallowed hard while running through every scenario. He hit her too hard, cracked her skull, and killed her. If that were the case, he wouldn’t forgive himself. He was going to be sick, but then Charmaine took a deep breath and sat upright.
“William?” Groaning, she pressed a hand to the back of her head. The blackness of her eyes faded, revealing the natural brown beneath. “What happened?” Her gaze shifted between the gun and Theodore’s corpse. “That wasn’t…did I?” William nodded. She whimpered. “I didn’t mean to! I don’t know—”
Footsteps sounded in the hall. William shushed her, then shut the door. Theordore’s corpse laid behind them. He kept a firm hold on the doorknob, in case someone attempted to enter. The footsteps became louder, louder, and his heart mirrored them. A shadow passed under the door, then they vanished, and his heart slowed.
Charmaine croaked, sounding sick. “What am I going to do? I didn’t mean to. It just happened. I don’t even remember doing it.”
“I know.”
Whatever happened wasn’t her. She wasn’t herself. She mentioned odd symptoms of late, ever since they were attacked by those beasts. He couldn’t believe the thought crossed his mind, but Nicholas may have answers, may be able to tell if this is some fae spell because it certainly isn’t a virus. He spoke to Montgomery days ago to keep an eye on things, but neither of them came across strange symptoms similar to Charmaine’s. What happened to her wasn’t normal.
“No one saw this. I doubt anyone remembers Theodore coming after you either, so I need you to stay here. Make sure no one comes in.” He handed Charmaine the lantern and slipped the revolver into its holster.
She trembled, eyes erratic in their movements. “How?”
“Make up a story. Tell them you got sick in here, anything to keep others out. I’ll be right back.” He clutched her shoulders. Her bottom lip trembled when he declared, “We are going to figure this out.”
Charmaine didn’t look convinced. William wasn’t, either, but he had to do something. He lost enough. He would not lose her. He never expected to make friends here, but he had. Charmaine fit into his life so perfectly, as if they were made to fill in each other’s broken pieces. He didn’t believe in fate or soul mates, but he liked to believe she and him were made to be lifelong friends.
Slipping on Nicholas’ ring, William vanished. The fae occupied the opposite side of the citadel. If Nicholas wasn’t outside, he likely had his own room, or so William hoped. He hurried past the firepits, relieved that none of the soldiers appeared ready to end the night yet. Fae were no different, drinking, dancing, and singing in their native tongue. His gaze swept over their silhouettes, finding Nicholas seated by Arden.
One of their kin told a joke, making the fae laugh. Arden’s hand fell on Nicholas’ thigh as his body lurched from joy. William flexed his fingers. His teeth gnashed. He had the urge to chuck a rock, specifically at Arden’s face. He might have, if Nicholas hadn’t stared right at him. William worried others could see him, but no one paid him any mind. Nicholas whispered to Arden and stood, walking around the firepits to a nearby door he left open behind him.
William skirted around the fae and entered the door. He met a dim hallway where Nicholas waited by an open door. He caught William’s attention, then stepped inside. William followed, finding Nicholas seated on a rock shelf covered in bedding. His familiar fuchsia flames flickered above them. William shut the door.
“You can see me with this ring on?” he whispered.
“Of course. It’s my magic,” Nicholas replied.
William removed the ring, clutching the item in his palm in case he needed to vanish. He felt foolish wanting to ask about Arden, if the two of them were spending evenings together like he expected they were before. It wasn’t important, even if his gut wrenched at the thought.
“Right, well, I need your help,” William muttered, the words nearly congealing on his tongue.
Nicholas tilted his head. “With what?”
“Charmaine.”
“Who is that?”
William ran a hand through his hair, frustrated at himself. “Fuck, Albie. I need your help with Albie.”
Nicholas puckered his lips together like a fish. “First tell me why you called him Charmaine.”
“I do not have time for this. Just be quiet and listen.”
“That is asking a lot of me.”
“Nicholas,” William snarled. The fae raised his hands defensively. “Albie has had strange symptoms since we were attacked by those beasts and tonight, he killed someone. Do not grin about this.”
Nicholas covered his annoying smirk with his hand.
“But whatever happened, it was not Albie. There is more to this, a fae curse, perhaps. Will you help?” he asked.
“Have you forgotten already?” Nicholas rose and prissily dusted off his shirt. “I owe you a debt from saving me in the forest. You are lucky I am so kind to you.”
“Because you would have said no otherwise?”
“Oh absolutely not, why would I miss out on such a wonderfully awful situation? You are simply lucky.”
William would have complained, but there may be no other option than Nicholas.
“Follow me,” he said, putting the ring on and hurrying outside.
Nicholas trailed his steps, feigning a nonchalant midnight walk. William kept to the shadows on the mortal side of the citadel. Nicholas did the same, doing his best not to gain anyone’s attention. Charmaine remained alone with the corpse by the time they arrived. She bristled at the sight of Nicholas, who’s curious gaze swept over the body.
“Aw, I wish I could have witnessed this,” he whined.
“Do not be an insufferable jackass,” William warned, reappearing in the room. “Will you help or not?”
“I said that I would, so I shall.” Holding out his hand, fuchsia light cascaded over Theodore’s corpse. The stone opened its gaping maw to swallow the body, vanishing deep beneath the rumbling earth, then the stones returned as if nothing transpired.
“There.” Nicholas clapped. “No one will be the wiser.”
Charmaine hiccuped from tears trickling down her cheeks.
“William mentioned symptoms.” Nicholas tugged Charmaine to her feet. He circled her, one hand beneath his chin while the other prodded at her. He grasped her arm or held her chin to peer into her eyes. “Tell me about these symptoms and when they began.”
“While we were lost in the forest,” she replied. “I’ve grown irritable since then, easily set off by the most mundane things. The smells are too strong, the noises too loud, as if my senses have heightened ridiculously. I’m hungry, too, starving all the time and I…” Her eyes widened and she gagged. “Holy Soul.”
“What?” William asked.
“The rabbits, the ones found dead outside the tents the other day. It was me, wasn’t it?”
Nicholas grimaced and stepped aside when Charmaine fell to her knees and vomited. William dropped to press a gentle hand on her back, soothing her as she retched.
“Speaking of strong smells.” Nicholas pinched his nose. “Other than this ghastly display, I have noticed a foul odor around you since our time in the woods. I thought the scent merely came from this humdrum place, but it may be more complicated than that.”
“Is this a fae spell? Something from Fearworn or the woods?” William asked.
Nicholas continued Charmaine’s examination from afar. His lips pressed into a grim line, then his eyes fluttered and he laughed. “Oh, that is rather devious. The creature, the one that grabbed us from camp, do you remember it?”
“Of course I do. You nearly killed me while trying to defeat it.”
“If you recall, the monster had no reproductive organs. What if that was on purpose? What if these creatures reproduce in another way?”
Charmaine hugged her torso. “Are you saying I’m…going to become like that thing?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. You are bitten and start to change, I do not find that a coincidence,” Nicholas replied.
“But you were also bitten. You’re not changing.”
William pondered for a moment, then declared, “He came down with that awful fever. Your wounds healed, but afterward, your body reacted to something.”
“I must have fought off the infection while you could not. This would coincide with what I’ve learned of Fearworn. He has a fondness of changing bodies into what he perceives to be perfect creations. He may have sought to create a monster that moves from one host to the other. Perhaps not a perfect match, but a beast nonetheless,” Nicholas explained.
Charmaine buried her face in her hands. “So I am doomed.”
“Most likely, and more may be doomed if we keep this to ourselves.”William’s heart dropped. “We will not tell another soul about this.”
Charmaine and Nicholas shared similar looks, as if they understood each other without speaking. Charmaine took William’s hand. Fear laced her words when she said, “Though it frightens me, we cannot keep this a secret, William. If Fearworn is capable of infecting me, he can infect others. There could be an outbreak.”
“Or Fearworn has no idea the infection worked. He hasn’t seen you and no one has shown any of your symptoms. I have been watching. We are not telling anyone when it means the generals could kill you.”
“The generals may not do any of that.”
“Now is not the time for hopeless optimism,” William countered. His voice rose with every word making Charmaine squeeze his hand, reminding him to calm down. “Besides, let’s say they let you live, they won’t let you remain among our ranks. They may lock you up and rumors will spread of a peculiar soldier. Fear will spread next and the men will be rid of you themselves rather than risk trouble. We are keeping this between us.”
“Maybe being… being rid of me is for the best,” she whispered.
The color drained from William’s face. “Don’t you dare say that.”
“I’m sick, William. I killed someone without even realizing it. If you hadn’t hit me, I probably would have killed you. If I ever hurt you—”
“You won’t,” he interjected, anguished, broken, and desperate. “We will fix this, I swear.”
“Are you truly willing to threaten the lives of everyone in camp?” Nicholas asked, causing William to stand and shove him.
“Don’t ask that as if you wouldn’t burn this camp to the ground to get what you want. I don’t give a damn about this fucking war or the fucking generals and their fucking plans. Now, are you going to keep this secret or not?”
Nicholas chuckled. William would have been further irritated if the fae hadn’t said, “Fearworn is the paranoid type. I imagine he has cures for his creations, his own form of protection from these beasts in case they do overpower our natural healing.”
William’s breath caught. He struggled to form words, wanting to hope while knowing how little it had done for him until now. “If that is true, the cure is with him. We need to find a way to prevent this from happening again until we acquire it.”
“The answer seems simple enough, she reacted from anger, so don’t anger her.”
Charmaine cast Nicholas a curious glance, but said nothing.
“We’re at war. Anger and irritation is everywhere,” William countered.
“Getting upset at me will not change the situation. This is all the help I can give.”
“I appreciate it, regardless.” Charmaine rose to her feet. “At least we have a potential explanation.”
“We are on Fearworn’s tail,” William whispered when taking her hand. “The generals have gathered more troops than we have ever seen. They believe this to be the end, so we are close. If Fearworn has an antidote, we will acquire it.”
“If,” Charmaine repeated in a shuddered breath. “ If he has one and if I am not a rabid beast by then.”
Nicholas grunted. “The both of you are so dramatic.”
William was a moment away from telling the fae off when Nicholas knelt. He plucked a wad of mud off William’s boot to roll in his hands. Pink light filtered between his fingertips, then he presented two perfect spheres.
“While I would love to watch you slaughter the camp, take this if you feel the abrupt urge to. It should knock you out.” Nicholas pressed one sphere into Charmaine’s open palm. He set the other in William’s. “And if you happen to witness any borderline murderous acts from Charmaine, force this down her throat.”
Charmaine stiffened. “I knew I heard you say she before, how?”
Nicholas smirked. William yanked on the bastard's wrist, hissing, “Must you do that now?”
“I am merely curious why you mortals are so uppity about how you refer to one another. You may call fae confusing, but I find your ways moronic, at best,” Nicholas replied, refusing to look anything less than proud.
Sighing, William gave Charmaine’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sorry. Earlier when I rushed over, I said Charmaine.”
“It’s alright, so long as Nicholas won’t tell anyone.” Charmaine gave him a worrisome stare.
Gasping in feigned offense, Nicholas said, “Believe it or not, I like keeping secrets.”
“I’m sorry. He can never take a damn thing seriously,” William growled and wondered how, for any moment, he could have come to enjoy Nicholas’ company.
“You take things too seriously.” Nicholas tapped William’s nose with his finger. “Now that I have done my part, I should take my leave. I wouldn't want anyone to find us like this. Do try not to kill anyone else this evening, unless I am present. I love a good show.”
Charmaine slipped the sphere into her pocket and muttered, “I truly do appreciate this.”
Giving a dismissive wave, Nicholas left. Once the door shut, Charmaine nudged William and muttered, “You should probably thank him. He didn’t have to help us.”
“Technically, he did. He owed me a debt from when I saved him in the forest.” But Nicholas said he would have helped anyway and that meant a lot, more than William could put into words. Dare he admit it, he didn’t trust anyone else to have helped, to be capable of it.
“Still,” she whispered. “You want to thank him.”
He couldn’t deny that. Charmaine settled a hand against his back and pushed him forward. William hesitated because he knew this meant another moment getting closer to Nicholas, becoming deeper intertwined. Somehow, they found themselves caught in the other's web and entirely uninterested in setting themselves free.
His feet carried him into the hall. Nicholas hadn’t left yet, so William caught him by the shoulder and opened an adjacent door. No one was in the room. He guided Nicholas inside where only the light of his eyes survived the shadows.
“Thank you for helping Charmaine,” William whispered, not thinking of the consequences until it was too late. Nicholas stepped closer, eyes playful, as devious as ever, but William didn’t feel an ounce of fear or concern. As Nicholas interlocked their fingers, his heart dared to hiccup and he dared to love the feeling.
“You of all people should know not to thank fae. It implies we are owed something,” Nicholas said softly without any true threat.
“Maybe you are owed. You didn’t only spare Charmaine, you also gave us hope that we can make this right.”
“One could say I was your knight in shining armor this evening.”
“I could say that, or I could reward you in another way.” William caught Nicholas by the belt loops, tugging him in for a ravenous kiss. He should have gotten tired of this taste by now, but he found Nicholas more addictive after every try. Nicholas was relentless against any wall William fruitlessly built. They crumbled from a touch, the timbre of his voice, the curves of his perfect body pressed against William’s, enticing a pent-up want.
“Tomorrow night, trouble?” he whispered against parted lips.
Nicholas smirked. His knuckles brushed against William’s cheeks, gentle and sincere. “I am looking forward to it, my wicked.”