Chapter IX
Mariam wakes to the sound of a rhythmic beeping.
Her eyes flutter open, her vision blurry.
She’s so groggy, and one side of her body feels heavy and bloated.
She blinks repeatedly to clear her eyes, then takes in the room in front of her: white, sterile walls.
A deep blue curtain, hiding her from the rest of the world.
There’s an IV in one of her arms and bandages on the other, along with the leg on the same side. She’s in a hospital.
Most importantly, she sees Sable, not bound nor in chains.
She’s sitting in a gray plastic chair near the head of the hospital bed, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.
Her short black hair hides her fingers, as well as her face, but not the tips of her ears.
Mariam’s heart warms at the sight of her.
“Sable,” she says, her voice a little hoarse.
Sable’s head snaps up immediately, but the expression on her face is not one Mariam was expecting: she looks haunted. “Oh, by the Spirits, you’re awake.”
“Yeah. And you’re here.”
“There isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be.” Sable perks up, but then her expression sours once more. “Mariam, I caused this.”
“What are you talking about?” Mariam has a flare of anxiety go through her body, her muscles tensing.
“I caused this.” She waves a hand at Mariam’s bandaged limbs. “I am the one who directly caused that.”
“How?”
“As Caedren was about to tear away, I hit him with a bolt. He dropped you, but you… you got hurt, too. Part of your body got caught in the tear and it cut you up. They say you’ll heal fine, but he got away… He’s out there somewhere, and he’ll come after us again.”
“Sable, that’s not your fault.”
She shakes her head, looking away. “It is. I’m the reason that bastard is after you in the first place.”
“Sable, don’t say that,” Mariam soothes. “If you hadn’t intervened, he’d have me right now, doing God knows what. You saved me.”
“He wouldn’t be after you in the first place if I had just…” She growls softly, shaking her head.
“Stop that, Sable. Don’t talk like that.
I don’t know what you think you ‘should’ have done, but I’m glad you didn’t do it.
” Mariam reaches out her hand towards her.
“I wouldn’t want my life to have gone any other way, Sable.
I mean that. Not that I’ve enjoyed being hunted by a madman, but getting to know you has been worth it. ”
“You can’t mean that, Mariam.” Sable’s voice softens. “I’m not good for you.” Before Mariam can think of something else to say, Sable stands and walks out, leaving the blue curtain to flutter in her wake.
* * *
The next two days feel like eternity for Mariam.
Sable visits, but feels so far away compared to before the attack.
The murder. Her attempted kidnapping. Everything has changed.
Sable barely speaks and just has a pained expression in response to anything Mariam says.
Thankfully, whatever combination of magic and medicine they were blasting into her veins is able to accelerate her healing and fully regenerate the lost portions of her arm and leg.
The muscles are left weak and raw, but she is assured that with just basic exercise, the only long-term consequence of the injury will be heavy scarring.
On the day she is released, the staff gives her a stress ball and a rolling ball with small, rounded spikes to use to help with the still sore muscles.
After promising to use them, she is turned loose.
Sable meets her at the front of the medical station, but is no less stoic than she has been as she walks Mariam back to their room.
The cabin yards are vacant, with none of the usual sounds of training or sparring. “Where is everyone?”
“Apparently, Reapers hold week-long mournings for their fallen brothers and sisters.” Sable looks over her shoulder at her. “Anima told me The Champion will be by tomorrow. She said we need to move again, to another safehouse.”
“Well… maybe it’s for the best. Things aren’t safe here anymore.”
“Mmm.”
Mariam feels a twinge of annoyance at Sable’s unwillingness to hold a conversation, but chooses to not say anything, for now. She hopes Sable will come out of the funk she’s in once they’re back in the same room. If she doesn’t… Mariam isn’t sure what she’ll do.
* * *
The night is awkward, with Sable sleeping partially clothed and turned away from her. When Mariam undresses and allows Sable to see the full extent of her new scars, a look crosses her face. Not disgust, more… shame.
The next morning, Mariam and Sable venture outside to the training grounds while they wait for The Champion.
All their things are packed, aside from the clothes on their backs, and Mariam’s laptop under her arm.
Sable said she wanted to use their last morning here to train, and Mariam gets back to work on the book she’s started outlining during their time here.
She needs something to occupy her mind, as Sable has continued to be distant.
Grievously so. The thought that Caedren could reappear any time has also haunted her, but right now she’s more focused on her wolf.
Frowning to herself, she types as Sable rhythmically punches and kicks.
The clack of fingers on keys and the impact of fists on burlap become almost like a song.
A song of who they are, even with the tensions between them right now.
Sable is a strong, physical-first kind of woman.
She trains her body above all else, making herself into a weapon to use.
Mariam is strong, too, but in a different way.
She trains her mind and tongue. Her spirit.
Mariam looks over her outline, scanning for where the plot is the thinnest. Making it stronger, long before she ever puts pen to paper…
or rather, cursor to word document. She’s always especially critical at the beginning of a new book.
You have to be in this business; poor writing could tank everything she’s built for herself.
If only my career was the only thing I had to worry about tanking right now.
Humming, she types a few more bullet points before turning her attention to Sable.
Sweat has her shirt sticking to her back.
Watching Sable train was hot before, but it wasn’t until she saw Will and Caedren fighting that she could truly appreciate these movements.
Sable has to be an amazing fighter. Someone who could kill with her bare hands alone.
She’s light on her feet, bouncing on the pad below her toes, her knees slightly bent.
When she jumps, it’s like… an animal. She comes several feet off the ground to land a kick to the seven foot tall dummy’s head, then follows with several jabs to where its ribs and maybe its liver would be.
She dances around it, landing hit after hit, more and more of its straw stuffing falling out with each one.
The burlap “skin” is starting to come apart as well, with straw sticking out of the slits and holes.
By now, any human who had taken that kind of damage would be dead…
She wonders if the same would be true if it were Caedren.
Sable starts to slow, her head cocking to the side before she stops entirely. “Get your things together. I think The Champion is here.”
“How do you know that?” Mariam closes her laptop and slides it into her canvas bag. She watches Sable, the wolf woman’s breathing coming in pants.
“I just felt a shift of energy,” Sable reports, her posture growing rigid and wary. “If not her, it’s something just as powerful. So let’s hope I’m right.”
Mariam swallows nervously and turns to look as she hears boots crunching on leaves. A hooded figure in a black bomber jacket approaches. Anyone could be under that hood, but the magic feels familiar to her. “Is that you?” she calls out.
“Yes, my dear Mariam,” The Champion replies. Uncanny as ever, she reaches them several seconds sooner than it seems she should have for the speed she was walking, as if she compressed the space between them. She nods to Sable. “It’s good to see you back on your feet, fully.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Sable unwraps her hands as she stands beside Mariam, watching The Champion cautiously. “You already grabbed our things, didn’t you?”
“Yes, tore them out a few moments ago. You two are what’s left.
” Mariam can feel the weight of The Champion’s eyes resting on her.
When she turns to her, she meets a gaze similar to her own blue-gray eyes, but stranger.
It’s hard to make out in the shadow of the hood, but one of her eyes is green as well.
The Champion offers her a hard-to-see smile. “On your feet, youths.”
Mariam laughs. “Champion, I’m twenty-nine. I doubt I’m that youthful compared to you.”
“Oh, Mariam,” says Sable. “I’m all of two hundred and thirty-two, and I promise, The Champion is older. Just feel how ancient her magic is.”
Mariam stares between the two of them as they watch her. “Wait, you’re what age?”
“Mmm, yes,” The Champion hums. “Sable is still rather young for her kind, too.”
Sable waves a hand. “In some clans, maybe. No one in my clan would call me a ‘youth.’”
“Hmm.” The Champion does not say anything further, but offers her two gloved hands. Sable takes one immediately, while Mariam stares at Sable for a moment longer before making sure her bag is secure and taking the other.
And they’re off. The tearing. Mariam hates it; it feels like she’s being sucked down a dark tube, with wind and darkness physically pressing down on her, crushing the breath from her lungs—
All at once, it’s over. Mariam takes in her new surroundings uncertainly.
The air is hot and humid here, and the sun has almost set, even though it was late afternoon when they left.
They stand in a clearing in a scantly forested wetland.
The soil under her feet is soft and spongey.
A huge, sunbleached wood shack sits in the center of the clearing, with multiple smaller shacks surrounding it.
On either side of the central shack is a greenhouse, and in the back along the treeline is another medical station, larger than the last safehouse’s.
This site seems to lack a training yard.
Any hint of fall is gone; every tree is still vibrantly green.
“Where are we now, Champion?” Mariam asks. “Did we travel through time?”
She chuckles. “No, we’ve just moved over a couple time zones.
We call this place The Bog. We’re in the southern U.S.A.
This place isn’t like our other safehouses.
It’s a place for wounded Reapers to recover, so there’s no training yard.
We actually don’t have anyone here right now, other than the caretaker, Jimmy. It’ll be fairly quiet.”
“That’s good, at least,” Sable mutters. Mariam looks at her, then back to The Champion.
“I guess it’s a good thing that you don’t have any wounded Reapers at the moment, huh?” Mariam asks.
“All my Reapers who have been wounded recently are dead,” The Champion says flatly.
“Oh.” Mariam is desperate to change the subject.“What do I need to do to keep our place here?”
“Nothing. Considering your last trip into town nearly got you both killed, we won’t be expecting anything of either of you, other than to be safe.”
“Then what is the plan?” Mariam asks. “With all due respect, the last time you moved us to a safehouse, it seems like we were just sitting ducks waiting for Caedren to find us.This time you’ve taken us to a place where there’s hardly anybody here to protect us.
How do you know he’s not just going to find us again? ”
“Quite frankly, Mariam, I don’t know,” The Champion replies. “I didn’t expect him to find you the first time and I’m still not quite sure how he did. Rest assured, we are hunting him as he hunts you. If Fate wills it, we will find him first.”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” says Mariam sarcastically.
“I don’t believe in Fate,” says Sable, her tone cold. “I believe in what I can see and touch. And I’ll make sure that includes Caedren’s head on a pike.”
The Champion chuckles at that. “May it be so. For what it’s worth, The Bog is surrounded by a sort of forcefield that only allows Reapers and their approved guests entry.
It should be very difficult for Caedren to get anywhere near.
And it’s not true that there’s no one here capable of protecting you—Sable herself is more than capable of that. ”
With that, she steps away a few footfalls, turns to face them, waves, and disappears.
“Well. Let’s get inside.” Mariam leads the way to the main shack, feeling her nerves start to bubble. They calm when Sable’s callused hand brushes hers. Mariam takes her hand in her own, and they walk onward together.