CHAPTER 2
Bishop wasn’t sure what to think about Ruckus or how to handle the whole no touching war happening with him and Seer. But he sure as hell didn’t want him to create a beacon for the Noctambule. If he was literally able to hide Seer from them, then maybe they could find a way to leverage these strange gifts of theirs to create something even stronger. He’d hide the entire fucking swamp if he could.
There was a lot he needed to ask the man about everything he”d said. Still couldn’t believe he’d happened upon Beth that night. What exactly had he done to those demons? Oddly, he was hungry to know that. Maybe even write it in his secret journal. Then frame it. Judging by how he handled these, his hopes were high. And the dude knew about the past war. He knew they were still hunting them and would never stop—which was half-news to Bishop. He’d had hunches and feelings but hearing him say it like it was a fact put the risk at the top with the rest.
All of it had prompted him to call Lucas to make damn sure he didn’t let Luseah out of his sight and to stay put at the main house till he returned. And as for their fucking mole, 8-Bit had hit the nail on the head with his theory. Old man Francois had been blackmailed for information to get his daughter out of the clutches of that hell. That brought another fifty questions, the first one being how the fuck did Beaux Brasseaux not know about any of it? His only possible salvation for being ignorant on such a matter was having his head a mile up his sister’s ass. Beau had been blackmailed the very same way. With everything going on, Bishop never followed up on that side of the shit storm. But surely Beaux Brasseaux knew something of the fuck that was going on with his sister. Now that he thought about it, even having his head a mile up his sister’s ass wouldn’t excuse him for that one.
The second he got to land, he’d talk to 8-Bit to see what else he knew. Then he’d call his sister and fish around for details and then he’d talk to Lil Beau sheep that makes no fucking peep.
That left only fifty other incoming missiles to deal with. The biggest one being when he was supposed to tell his wife about her father. The second was Ruckus and Samuel and all these gifts waiting to be used or blow up in their faces. They’d put their heads together and find a way to use it all to their advantage. He wasn’t sure how but the creative genius in him seemed to already know that answer. He was just waiting for it to inform him what the fuck it was so he could make it happen.
He paused to count his blessings. His wife was safe, and demons were caught. They’d managed to get the men married to the women and the women were done with the trials. Whether they’d passed them, he wasn’t sure yet but they had come up with a way to secure obedience outside of the Twelve’s code. Ironically, after all that effort, Bishop had decided not to fight fate on it. If Beth was supposed to be his right hand, then so be it. As much as he disagreed with or didn’t like what fate decided, he wasn’t about to spar with it. He had real enemies to deal with. Like the Roullettes and the Diablos De La Guerra. And Lazarus and the fucking Noctambule. He wondered then. Was Lazarus tied to Ruckus somehow? Would be fucking favorable if there was leverage there. Regardless, Ruckus would know the best way into the devil’s den and the quickest way out.
Fuck, he needed to tell Beth about her dad. He couldn’t wait any longer on that or she may hate him for it. He wouldn’t allow that to happen.
****
Bishop thanked God his wife requested to skip the meeting. He knew she did it to demonstrate her desire to remain out of the war side of things and he’d thank her properly for it later. He brought The Twelve to attention with a smack of his palm on the table. “This is Ruckus,” he announced, nodding at the man sitting on his right, ready to get the introductions out of the way. “He saved the Belle Eveque’s life today as you all know. He also saved her the night she escaped her abductors when I first found her in the swamp.” He allowed a moment for their stunned curiosity, eying said giant staring blankly at the table before him. “Eventually, I’d like to celebrate what he did to those men. But for now, we have other pressing business.”
He took a breath before divulging the information Ruckus and Seer gave him permission to share. “Ruckus has been living in our swamp since he was sixteen years old.” He again allowed a moment for that to sink in. “He’s the father of our Seer. He has gifts like our Seer. He brought his son here to hide him. From the Noctambule.”
Bishop nodded in agreement at their murmurs of shock.
“How is he connected?” 8-Bit wondered, ready to put the piece where it belonged in his puzzle of equations.
Bishop regarded Ruckus now. “I was hoping to learn that too.”
“I was Noctambule’s ordained high priest. To fulfill the final rite of passage, I had to bear offspring and sacrifice him to Satan.”
“At sixteen?” Hurricane balked.
Ruckus eyed him. “Yes.”
“Which you obviously didn’t,” Traps said.
“I took my son and ran here. Gave him to an old woman at a tree then hid as far from him as I could without leaving the swamp.”
“Why didn’t you leave?” Nitro pried.
“Because my gift allows me to hide things. Absconditor. It means to confuse or conceal. Cause things to appear as something they are not. I cloaked him with my own darkness so that they wouldn’t find his light. That required me to be close enough to manage that but not so close that I would give in to temptation.”
“What temptation?” 8-Bit asked, sounding like a therapist.
Bishop watched the man again stare at the table before him. “To get close to my son. One touch of what he possesses, one taste, is like a thousand heavens. And I had tasted it once. I knew it’s power and lure. To somebody like me, to the darkness inside me, I couldn’t chance falling.”
Bacon gave a light snort with raised brows. “Like the fuckin ring of Mordor,” he said in amused astonishment.
Ruckus regarded him. “I’m not familiar with that.”
“That’s because it’s a fucking movie,” Patches muttered. “Guessing you ain’t watched much of that in the past…shoo, forty years?”
“Thirty-nine,” Seer corrected.
Bishop eyed Sameul, his pain reminding him of theories and ideas he needed to explore later to hopefully help with that.
“Thirty-nine,” Ruckus repeated quietly, sounding tired and surprised in the same breath.
“What part of the swamp you from?” Traps wondered.
“The Fawshay” Bishop said.
“Shooo, that’s a mess out there,” Hurricane said. “Good huntin’ though?”
“Very good,” Ruckus said. “Lots of nutra. Black bear. Bobcats. Plenty of deer and coyote. Mink and fox. Gator obviously.”
“And you ain’t never gone into town?” Bacon wondered, sounding astonished.
Ruckus considered. “Only once very early on. For how-to books.”
“From sixteen,” Traps marveled, stroking his beard with his angle eye on him. “Musta been rough.”
“I think I may have died a few times.”
A moment of silence preceded a round of raucous laughter and table smacking. “No shit,” Hurricane said in open awe. “What’s your secret? I mean how the fuck you build all that?” he moved his hands over his own body in reference to his massive muscles.
“He could be Spar’s twin,” Shank said.
“I eat a lot of meat,” Ruckus muttered. “I hunt and kill what I eat. With a knife.”
This was as funny as it was epic to all of them and Bishop let them get it out of their system for a minute. But until Bishop was sure he was legit, nothing was amazing and funny to him. Or 8-Bit he could see. And Nitro. Spook too but he was always quiet.
“The question is,” The Seer said. “How do we know we can trust you?”
“The Seer needs to take a peek, right?” Bacon suggested, getting everybody’s immediate agreement.
“I can’t let him touch me,” Ruckus cut in. “If he touches me, he’ll surely see. But so will the darkness. Then they’ll know I’ve been hiding him and come.”
“Like the ring of Mordor!” Bacon declared again, proving he was right.
An idea hit him in the silence that followed.
“Sounds like the perfect trap,” 8-Bit said, taking the thought right out of Bishop’s head.
Ruckus looked at Bishop then the rest of the men. He returned his gaze to the table and slowly leaned back in his seat while they all waited. Bishop raised his hand toward The Twelve, indicating they let him have his thought process, whatever it was.
“If you lure them to these swamps,” Ruckus said, his words labored like they didn’t want to leave his mouth. “You need to make sure you lure the right ones. They’re… like a plague,” he went on. “Whatever they touch, they mark and contaminate. But like with every strain of evil, there’s a source. With every snake there’s a head. For this reason, the head of the Noctambule is never allowed to become vulnerable.”
“You said you have a gift that can confuse people,” Patches muttered, putting his forearms on the table and leaning in. “What if you use those gifts to lure the head here?”
“My gifts are not that powerful.”
“They could be,” Seer muttered, getting all eyes on him. “Maggie’s gift magnifies mine. And Lesion has potions that have helped me see what’s in the future. I don’t need to touch you,” Seer assured. “Maggie does all the touching.”
Ruckus eyed his son then the table again, his head barely shaking. “It’s your swamp,” he muttered, looking up at Bishop. “I’ll leave the decision with you.”
Bishop felt the weight of his warning. If shit went south, it could bring the Noctambule to the last place he ever wanted. He glanced at Seer who gave him a slow nod. “We’ll roll the Fate Dice to decide this. Tomorrow. Now, on to other business,” Bishop said. “That four weeks of leverage we got for the arm’s transport is down to seventeen days.” He looked at Ruckus. “By the way. You know of a dude named Lazarus?”
“I do.”
Bishop stared at him. Fucker was hard to read with the amount of emotion he didn’t give off. “He connected to Noctambule?”
“The one I knew wouldn’t be anymore. At least not since I left.”
“But he was?” Bishop asked.
“He was second under me. One might consider him my rival. He went rogue. Took his gifts and left to start his own evil business.”
“What gifts?” Bishop wondered.
“Like me, he can persuade and confuse, but with words. He might speak one thing and you’ll hear another.”
“How terrifying,” Shank mocked, getting Ruckus’s attention.
“It is when he hides a curse in a comment about the color of the sky. The curse is self-detonated by the one cursed. It gets in their subconscious, persuades them to believe, and their mind’s do the rest.”
“Huh,” 8-Bit said. “Does it work on paper?”
Ruckus regarded him, appearing surprised by the question. “Not sure. Why?”
“He left a note for us on the door of his residence where we’d intended to raid. Knew we were coming. Asked if our Seer knew who was watching our swamp.”
Ruckus let out barely a scoff. “His second gift is bullshitting. He doesn’t have seeing powers. But he has a lot of connections that might make you think he does.”
“You ever hear of the Midnight Grinders?” Bishop asked.
Ruckus shook his head.
“What about the Red Krabs or the Carpetbaggers.”
“No.”
“What’s that other one?” Bishops signaled to 8-Bit.
“Atchafalaya Blackguards.”
Again, Ruckus shook his head. “Sorry, no. Must be after my time. Who are they?”
“Gangs we found him connected with.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Ruckus said. “If I had to guess, he’s forming a trafficking ring. He thrives on power and uses the quickest means to get it. Violating the innocent in the most wicked way is a required payment for a demon of this kind.”
“What about the Noctambule?” Bishop wondered, hoping for a conflict they could leverage. “How do they feel about this sick Lazarus fuck?”
“The Noctambule don’t share power. They systematically annihilate all competition. But if he’s still alive, that must mean he’s managed to either remain hidden from them or he’s negotiated.”
“Negotiated what?” Bishop wondered.
“Resources. If the end justifies the cost, they’ll use it. But more times than not, they’re positioning.”
“For?” Bishop asked.
“To annihilate the competition.”
Spook broke the silence with, “Sounds just like leverage to me.”
Bishop’s excitement had him nodding. “Sym-fucking-patico.” Bishop pointed at 8-Bit. “We need intel. Everything you can find on Lazarus and the Noctambule. Their current connections, dealings, anything and everything. You know the drill.”
The sounds of eagerness stirred around the table. “It’s like a fucking blood feast,” Hurricane said. “What about our other demons? When we feasting on those?”
“Wouldn’t it be grand if we found leverage between all three?” Bacon mused.
“Four if you count those pussy Roullette’s” Shank said.
“And now the Booyies,” Bullets added.
“I’ve already run those tatts on our three amigo’s,” 8-Bit said, sounding eager. “The dead one was Roullette. The other two? Diablos La Guerra and Cartel. Which means—”
“They’re working together,” Bishop finished with a quiet, “Fuck.”
“Sounds like more leverage to me,” Ruckus said, his tone hinting at hunger.
Bishop realized he was exactly right. “In-fucking-deed.”
“What do you think they wanted with the Belle Eveque?” Traps asked.
“Same thing we’re looking for,” Bishop said. “Leverage. And they fucking know exactly where to hit in that regard.”
They all nodded in avid agreement on that one.
“There’s only one thing left,” Bishop announced, eyeing Ruckus. “We need to see if what you’re saying isn’t bullshit. No offense, Mon ami.”
Bishop watched the man openly weigh the matter while staring at the table again. “You would risk the Noctambule finding us?”
Bishp reminded him. “Maggie will do the touching. Then she will show our Seer.”
****
Maggie gripped Spook’s hand tightly as he led her from the main house to the Basilique. “I’m scared,” she finally blurted as they neared the doors.
He stopped and got before her, kissing her with one of his special, knee weakening kisses. She let go a gasp when he pulled up.
“That help?” he whispered, his thumb gliding over her lower lip.
“No,” she barely whined. “Now I want to fuck you.”
His sexy laugh made her smile, and he kissed her again. “That can be your payment. You go in, do the dirty touching job, then I take you in the woods and fuck you up against a tree.”
“Oh,” she moaned as her mind gave her a sneak peek and feel of the ecstasy. He released her and she fell into him. “I like that deal,” she whispered.
“Then let’s do it.”
Four more steps and her legs refused to move. “What if I see he’s bad?” she whispered. “How do I tell you?” She sucked in a breath. “What if he sees I can see he’s bad?”
“I’ll ask if he’s willing to be restrained,” he said, stealing another kiss. “If he doesn’t want to, then we don’t do it.”
She finally nodded, thinking that was safe enough. “Beth said he’s huge,” she whispered.
“You drew him,” Spook reminded her.
“Yes,” she acknowledged with a nod. “I don’t remember his…size. Mostly his face and his goodness.”
“You think he’s not good anymore?”
She eyed him. “I don’t know,” she fretted. “People can change.”
“This is true. We’ll tie him to be safe, okay?”
She nodded, earning another one of his sexy kisses. “I’ll suck your pussy before I fuck you,” he said, sweetening the deal.
“I don’t need all that to do this,” she moaned.
“No?”
She shook her head as he ate softly at her mouth while holding her face. “I do need it though.”
His beautiful laugh shot out as he pulled her the rest of the way to the door. “And you’ll surely get it.”
Maggie entered the room and her eyes landed right on the man she’d drawn. “He’s…aged,” she realized in amazement, slowly walking toward him. The feel of Samuel drew her gaze left and she gasped, hurrying to him. He stood when she neared and she took his hand in hers, forgetting to ask permission. Her breath sucked in at the meaning of the dark energy around him. “Why are you so sad?” she barely whispered, his pain piercing through her heart. She closed her eyes and her hand moved over his face, needing to feel him again. The sound of his shuddered, strained breaths should have stopped her, but she couldn’t. His pain was so deep, she had to feel every thread of it.
“Stop,” he croaked, grabbing her hands in his.
“Maggie,” Spook whispered, tugging her.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to.”
Seer returned to his chair, and she regarded the rest of The Twelve, realizing she needed to understand each of them.
“Focus baby,” Spook whispered at her ear, pulling her to the job.
She stared at Samuel’s father as Spook whispered something to Bishop. There was nothing hovering on or around the man.
“We’d like to restrain you for this,” Bishop announced, reminding her she’d wanted that.
The man pushed his chair back and put his arms behind it. Finally his blue eyes met hers and she froze in instant fixation.
She thought it was the Traps man that came behind Samuel’s father and tied his arms.
“You can touch him now.” Spook’s voice barely registered in her ears but her hands heard and both reached out. Then paused just before touchdown.
“It’s okay,” Spook whispered.
Maggie tore her eyes from the blue ones before her and found Samuel’s looking right at her. She regarded the man again. Aware of all the eyes around, she leaned down and put her mouth at his ear.
****
Ruckus never feared the dark for himself, nor did he fear being bound in that chair. But the moment this woman locked gazes with him, he sought something to hold on to both inside and out. The pull she created to his darkness became paralyzing. But her oblivion to the might and depth of her gifts was the most terrifying. It felt like she could suck all the darkness out of him with a single, accidental thought, putting them in a world of trouble if he lost his grip on it. Already it had tagged every single person in the room as the woman effortlessly handled the reigns that held the evil back.
Ruckus braced more when she lowered and brought her mouth to his ear and whispered very quietly. “I see your prison. I see your fear. I see your light. May I touch you…so I can understand what I’m seeing?”
Ruckus fought to hold everything together, the effort bringing a tremble to his body. He could only manage a nod.
Her hands touched down on his face and he learned the bonds in her stare were a small percent of those in her hands. There was no using his power to see her the way he needed to, there was only using his strength to hold himself and his mind still while she passed over him. There was only one other experience in his existence like it and that was the day he held his son for the first time. The only thing it lacked was the unbreakable love/bond between a most unholy and undeserving father and the gift of a beautiful son.
“She’ll need something to draw with,” Ruckus heard Spook whisper as the woman’s gasps of agony and shock went on and on in her inquiry and discovery of all his dirty secrets. Her fingers paused at his temples and pressed in, causing his breaths to come faster and louder until he sounded like one of the animals he wrestled for dinner.
“Maggie,” Spook called.
Ruckus realized she was stuck on whatever she was seeing. He wanted to tell him to remove her. Did the darkness have her? Fuck, he needed to break the link. He threw himself back and hit the floor, the impact causing everything to swim behind his eyelids. But the link was broken.
He suddenly felt his entire body being pressed to the floor. What was happening?
“Don’t fucking let him go.”
The voice was of Spook and he realized many hands held him down. Fuck, he’d broke all the bond, he realized. “I’m okay,” he managed to get out. “I had to break the bond. She was trapped.”
“Maggie?” Spook called. “What did you see?”
“He’s good!” she called back, sounding like she wept next to the table where she drew. “He just can’t see it.”
****
Samuel watched his father as Maggie drew without stop on her paper. He suddenly wasn’t sure if he wanted to see now. What if it was things he couldn’t accept? Things that fucked him up? He really couldn’t afford that. Not now, not with a war. And yet if he had to work with him, odds were he’d have to face whatever was there to face. Samuel glanced at the door when it opened. The second his eyes landed on Belle Eveque, he knew.
He quickly went to where Bishop stood and whispered in his ear. “Your wife knows about her father. She’s behind you looking mighty fucking hurt.” He patted his upper back as Bishop turned and made his way to her. Samuel moved closer to where Maggie drew, getting a look at what she had so far. He made out what resembled a dense cube of darkness and a man in its center surrounded in light. He angled his head more, trying to make out what was in his hands. He saw it was a baby and his own gift showed it was him and the man holding him was his father. The light was from the child and the darkness was from the father. But the entire image was a prison. The father had created it. He hid with the son right in the heart of the darkness and the darkness was none the wiser.
She moved to a second paper and continued drawing quickly. It was evolving he realized. The images were like a timeline. This one showed the light and dark reversed. The darkness was encasing the man and child, with the light holding it all in. Both were true, he realized. Both realities existed simultaneously. The third picture drew a third box around the first two boxes, indicating an outer prison around the protective one. Layers of prisons made of light and darkness. With every dark wall there was one of light with it. Almost as though they were fused together. Stuck. Inseparable. A result of this unique binding. But was it a gift or a curse? That needed discerning. And like it or not, Samuel needed his father to ensure getting Raphael happened without fatal consequences. And Bishop needed the man for just about everything else.
Glancing behind him, he found Belle Eveque in a tight embrace with Bishop. Just the sight loosened every fiber in his being. The last thing Bishop needed was her upset with him. He prayed they had more details about her father’s death by now. 8-Bit sure had his intel work cut out for him.
“I can’t be in here anymore,” Maggie whispered suddenly then set the pencil down and hurried out. He watched as Spook ran after her, wondering what was going on.
Bishop signaled for him when Beth also followed Maggie out and he hurried to his side, glancing over his shoulder at his father. Still sitting there. Appearing stunned and quiet.
“Well?” he asked Bishop quietly.
“She knew. She overheard a conversation Ma-Ma was having. Said she’d honestly given up hope and the news didn’t surprise her. Which fucking guts me to hear,” Bishop whispered. “And during 8-Bit’s search for leads on cause, he ends up calling the Aunt.”
“What Aunt,” Seer wondered.
“The one that’s supposed to be crazy. She’s living in a home or hospital in California. Or was. I don’t know how but she figured out something was wrong and guess where she is?”
Samuel had no idea. “Where?”
“In fucking Breaux Bridge going door to door asking questions while handing out California oranges to her unsuspecting informants.”
“Hell.”
“I’m taking Beth and Maggie and Spook to get her. She’ll be coming for an indefinite visit before she becomes their next victim.”
“Good idea.”
Bishop shook his head, glancing around Seer at the business waiting to be finished. “What do you think?” he asked. “About him?”
Samuel eyed Bishop. “I think I might not want what I thought I did.” Seeing Bishops confusion, he explained. “I thought I wanted to know him. And now…I don’t know.”
“I get it,” Bishop said, raking a hand through his hair. “Whatever you decide, you know you have my blessing. And my support. You just gotta name it,” Bishop whispered, his gaze fierce on his.
“Thank you, brother.”
Bishop put his arm around his shoulder and squeezed a few times. “You want to ride with us? Maybe Cherie wants to get out.”
“I’ve had one kiss from her since we returned and I’m not ashamed to say I’m ready for a lot more. But she’ll want to know what the plan is with Raphael. I know Ruckus will be key in whatever happens with that.”
“No shame in getting all the help we can get,” Bishop said.
“Agreed. She needs to be reassured it’s happening as soon as possible.”
“And it is. First on the agenda.” Bishop tilted his head, peering behind Samuel again. “Shit.”
“What?”
“Ruckus. What do we do with him for now?”
Samuel considered offering to take him to the Birdhouse but wasn’t ready for alone time with him. “One of The Twelve can take him to the shed at the Birdhouse. I’m sure he’s ready to be out of the spotlight.”
Amazement dawned on Bishop’s face. “Forty fucking years in the wilderness. Alone. I think it’s safe to say isolation is his friend.”
Samuel understood what that was like, only to a much lesser degree. “Crashing back into humanity like this will be a test for sure. Surprised his vocal cords still work.”
“Maybe he sings to the animals.”
Samuel grinned at him. “While he eats them?”
Bishop let out a laugh big enough to get the attention of The Twelve. “Hey!” Bacon complained. “No secret funnies.”
They made their way back to the group. “We’re closing the meeting. Those who have wives will reconnect with them. Those who don’t will go on being miserable till they do.”
Samuel chuckled at the beg-to-differ outcries colored by each personality.
“Tomorrow night we’ll roll the Fate Dice. Let’s meet here at 7:00 PM. We’ll get our new guest settled while going fetch another.”
“Another what?” Patches asked, suspicious.
“Another guest.”
“Do we want to know?” Spar grumbled, clearly tired of any and all guests.
“Beth’s Aunt,” Bishop announced. “She’s in town asking questions about you know what.”
Samuel wasn’t the surprise with the oh shit’s circulating the room.
“What’s your plan?” Nitro asked or worried.
“Get her out of harm’s way and then figure that out. I’m open to ideas.”
“Well, depending on what she looks like, I might be willing to babysit,” Traps said, bringing instant chaos from the majority of The Twelve. All of it amounted to dogs fighting over who would get the crazy bone.
“Sounds like a job for Patches,” Nitro laughed.
“You mean Bacon. He’s always short on nuts.”
“You’ll all be short on nuts if this kind of talk ever happens again. This is my wife’s Aunt you’re going on about. And I swear by all that is hairy and scary in this swamp, if I hear one moronic word out of any of you, I’ll drag your sorry ass to the Bat-tie field and publicly make you pay.”
They whooped like rebellious children ready and eager to have their sorry asses dragged by their Eveque anywhere for a good fight.
“Nitro and Spar,” Bishop pointed. “I need you to take Ruckus to the shed at the Bird House. He’ll be bunking there.”
“Got it.”
“Keep your ears and eyes open and all alerts on,” Bishop added. “I want to know everything the second you do. Come-sah?”
“Oui oui Monsieur Eveque,” they all called out in exaggerated good-boy manners.
“I’m hungry,” Traps muttered. “Ma-Ma got anything cooked?”
“That woman always has something cooked,” Bacon said, like he was headed to get whatever it was.
Samuel turned and found his father standing at the table and studying the drawings. He made his way over when a sense of obligation crept in. They’d shared the same fiery trials from opposite ends of the spectrum that somehow met in the middle. Samuel stopped far enough away to avoid spooking him. “You okay?”
He barely shook his head, not breaking eye contact with the drawings. “What kind of people are these?” he barely whispered.
People? “Not much different than you or I.”
This got his direct, narrowed gaze. “That woman. And the Belle Eveque. And you, all have the same…kind of light.” His brows came harder together. “I need to touch you… but I can’t,” he said on a quiet gasp. Samuel remembered he was the man trapped in the image. His own father who locked the world out was now locked out of the world.
Samuel suddenly saw a piece of their future and nodded at him. “We will touch,” he assured. “Soon.”
The torment in his bright blue gaze swirled without mercy before he lowered his head and released several breaths. “I need to sleep.”
“You can sleep?” Samuel asked, ready to be envious.
His lowered head barely shook. “No. Sleep for me amounts to being quiet. Inside. Allowing things to settle till they’re not…”
“Consuming you,” Samuel said, getting his Father’s intense eyes again.
“You have this?” he asked, like that would be bad news he couldn’t handle.
Samuel couldn’t bring himself to skew the truth for either of them at this point. “Sleep for me is entering another world. One where I spend most of my night fighting the dark.”
The shock of this had his father speechless as panic filled his gaze. “I thought…”
“You’re not the only one with darkness, Mon Piere. You protected me from what you could. The rest, I had to learn to fight.”
Wonder and awe mixed with the dread in his eyes. “How?”
Samuel had never considered such a thing before. He shrugged. “Seems it would be something taught to me by the giver of that light.”
The man’s eyes slowly closed as his towering frame seemed to sway.
“Steady Piere,” Samuel muttered, not wanting to touch him even out of necessity at that point. Mostly because the need to do exactly that had returned with a vengeance. Understanding the man before him more loosened him from his fears. His father wasn’t the only thing hiding things from the darkness. The darkness was hiding things from him. And according to his brief vision he’d had earlier, Samuel would be the one to show him all that the darkness so evilly hid.