Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Anthony
Forest near the Wilde River
Something was wrong.
Anthony sat up and found a shotgun pointed at his face.
“I’ve got nothing against your kind, but you can’t stay here,” the man on the other end of the shotgun said.
Anthony growled, not upset at the threat to his person, but to Nina.
She slept next to him, curled against his side.
The night had been long. Every sound in the forest kept him in a state of constant alert.
Nina’s tranquil slumber had been the consolation.
Her steady heartbeat and the even measure of her breaths brought him peace.
How dare this man with his mud-caked boots threaten what was his.
He leapt to his feet, baring his teeth in warning. The fin along his spine flexed, standing at attention and the ruff at his throat flared.
The ground in front of his feet exploded, spraying him with dirt.
The man aimed the shotgun at his chest. “The next one won’t miss, I can promise you that.”
The gall, the recklessness… Anthony could not think. A stray shot could have injured Nina. He lunged forward, wrapping his hand around the man’s throat.
The man dropped the shotgun, clawing at Anthony’s hands. His face was red but soon it would have no color at all.
A sharp, burning pain slid into his lower back.
“One more inch and I’ll have your kidney,” Nina said, one arm wrapped around his chest and the other pushing the dagger into him. “I can’t say if that will kill you, but it will hurt. Now stop strangling the farmer.”
Anthony growled but complied.
The man fell to his knees, coughing and rubbing his neck.
“We didn’t mean to trespass,” Nina said, speaking to the man from over Anthony’s shoulder. “We were on the riverboat that sank last night.”
“Can’t say I know anything about that,” he replied, rising to his feet.
“There was an explosion, so I think it was the boiler.”
“Damn things are death traps.”
They agreed on that.
“You’re a ways from the river,” the man said.
“Seemed prudent to put some space between ourselves and the scared and frightened people,” Nina replied.
“Did he cause the explosion?” He nodded his head toward Anthony. “I’m not interested in trouble.”
He growled, which earned him a whispered, “None of that now.”
Speaking louder, she said, “No, but he did pull people from the water. Does that sound like a troublemaker to you?”
The man made a grunting noise that could have been agreement or clearing his throat. Subtleties were difficult for Anthony to discern with a dagger in his side.
“He’s luring you to his underwater lair. That’s what his kind does,” the man said.
“I assure you, no one is being lured.”
Another disgruntled noise.
“Like I said, you folks can’t stay here.” He retrieved the shotgun. Anthony growled and Nina tightened her arm across his chest, driving the dagger in farther. “I can give you water and bread and take you as far as Wilmouth if that one can behave.”
“He can do that,” Nina said. “Right?”
“Yes,” he agreed, his voice thick and distorted. His teeth felt sharper, which was preposterous. Curious, he ran his tongue over his top teeth and discovered a second row.
That was new and unsettling.
“We appreciate it,” Nina said, finally removing her dagger. The relief was instant. While he seriously doubted one small poke would hinder him, the burning sensation was not pleasant. “We need some time to dress his wound.”
“Come to the house when that’s done.” The farmer pointed to a well-worn path through the trees. If there was a house on the other side of the thicket, it was well hidden. “I leave in half an hour with or without you.”
“Understood,” Anthony replied, doing his best to cope with the extra teeth.
Nina removed a small oilcloth package from an inner pocket of her coat. She unwrapped it to reveal a roll of gauze. “I’ll bandage you up to stop the bleeding.”
“That cannot possibly be sanitary.”
“It’s dry and it’ll soak up the blood.” She held one end of the roll against his stomach and unrolled the bundle.
“No disinfectant?”
“I will stab you again if you don’t stop squirming.”
He allowed her to finish wrapping the gauze around his middle, despite the dubious cleanliness of the gauze. Mostly he enjoyed her proximity, even if her touch was less than gentle. She tied the gauze tight, aggressively pulling on the fabric until he grunted.
“Such a tender nurse,” he said, rubbing his back.
“Hush. We’ll clean it when we get where we’re going. How far away is Salwicked?”
“Saltwick,” he corrected. “Two hours by coach or horseback from Wilmouth. Considerably longer on foot.”
“Well, let’s hope we can hire a coach.”
Anthony dressed properly. As properly as possible.
After years of wearing a neat and orderly uniform, the unkempt nature of his wardrobe offended him.
His clothes were torn and stank of murky river water, but at least they were dry.
The final insult was that he had lost his scarf and hood in the water.
He was fully exposed, as the Nexus made him, fins and all.
“Wear these,” Nina said, pulling a set of tinted spectacles from one of the many pockets of her coat. Her clothes fared better than his. There was a rip in the shoulders of her coat where she had tangled with a submerged tree limb, but it was otherwise intact.
He disliked seeing her disheveled. Grabbing her, he spun her around, inspecting the damage.
“I’m well,” she said. “Nothing a hot bath and a good meal won’t cure.”
Anthony did not trust the farmer. He came into his territory and pointed a gun at what belonged to him. But Nina needed water and food. The monsters in his unit could survive a few days without either. He saw no reason why he should be an exception, but Nina needed food and water.
Once dressed, they followed the path to the farmer’s homestead. There they were given a loaf of bread to share, a flask of water, and told to climb into the back of a cart. The wooden wheels rattled over a dirt road that was little more than muddy ruts.
“We’re going the wrong direction,” Anthony said, keeping his voice quiet.
“What makes you think that?”
He just knew. Home pulled at him. Called to him. Wherever they were going, it was not home .
“I don’t recognize the area,” he said.
“When was the last time you were in Wilmouth or the north coast?”
Anthony blew out a frustrated sigh. She had a point. He was not familiar with the area. Still, the itch of wrong direction persisted.
“Instinct,” he eventually said.
Instinct was all he had to guide him. It was a feral part of his mind, barely contained, but it persisted. When in the throes of his transformation, instinct drove him to Nina. Instinct found her when she was unconscious in the water. A force he did not understand bound them together.
Now that same force demanded that he take her to his home, add her to his treasures, despite that Saltwick had never been his home and he had no treasure.
He could only follow his instinct.
Nina
The Road from Wilmouth to Saltwick
They could not hire a coach.
“There’s simply none to be had,” Nina complained, which was not in her nature but she was faced with a rather long walk and would have vastly preferred a coach. “Nor horses to spare. Not a single horse in all of Wilmouth.”
“The riverboat sinking put a strain on local transportation. The other survivors arrived last night and had a head start on us,” Anthony said, being entirely reasonable.
“How wildly idealistic of you.” Nina shot him a glare but she did not say what she knew to be the real problem. Every door that Anthony darkened slammed in their face. Every shop was shuttered. No one would deal with his kind .
Finfolk.
Now she had a name to put to his condition. Dash it all that she didn’t have a horse.
After three rejections and a door slam, Anthony announced that he would wait for her on the road out of town. Wilmouth was small enough that word traveled quickly about his condition. She was tempted to flash her badge and commandeer a pair of horses.
Instead, she allowed money to do the commandeering.
She found an apothecary willing to sell her clean bandages, needle and thread, and a pot of ointment.
Mountain ash tonic was not in stock, however.
Likewise, she had been able to purchase a scarf and a wide -brimmed hat, but she had not been able to find an inn or tavern keeper willing to provide a hot bath and meal. Transportation was out of the question.
She managed to secure food for the journey, which should have lifted her mood but failed.
Her feet hurt. The boots dried poorly and squeezed her toes.
Her coat was torn and there had been no time to mend it.
She smelled as foul as her disposition, and she had nothing to do but ruminate during their long walk.
Once well outside of town, Nina cleaned Anthony’s wound and stitched it up. “That should hold. Just don’t wrestle a bear.”
“Why would I wrestle a bear?” He lowered his shirt, frowning at the question.
“Why would you be a fish? The world is strange.” She stuffed the excess supplies into a coat pocket. She needed to mend the tear in her coat but there was no time for that. They had a long walk ahead of them.
Anthony was alarmingly chipper during their walk. His new hat perched on his head at a jaunty angle and he had a bounce to a step. A literal bounce. She had never seen the dour major in such a state.
“What is this about?” she asked, waving a hand in his direction.
“Pardon?”
“Are you ill? Delirious from pain?”
“I feel quite well, thank you.”
Nina did not believe him.
“The crowds bothered me,” he said, as if sensing her doubts. “Too loud and too many people in my territory.”
Interesting choice of words.
“Do not look at me like that.”
“I am not looking at you in any particular manner,” she replied. The topic she really wished to discuss bubbled inside her, rising to the top and impossible to ignore. “They called you finfolk. I’ve not heard the term before.”
“I do not know.”