WARNING: This story and all others included in "Dreams of Reality" are copyrighted to FuryKyriel, 1997. Any unauthorized publication of this material will be prosecuted.

Blood and Water





(Part Four of Five)
    "What do you mean, you know?" I leaped out of my chair with the Fury already clamoring for a fight.
    "Hey, it's all right!" Enric threw up his hands to show he meant no harm. "I only found out a couple of nights ago, when I went back to R1 and did some research."
    "Research?" I frowned and lowered my hand, which had already risen to call the iron dagger.
    "You know, looking through old fantasy books and fairy tales, trying to find something that tallied with the things I knew about you already." He tried a smile. "It took a couple of weeks before I thought to check the mythology section. But once I did, there you were."
    There I was. I sat down slowly, stunned by the simplicity of it all. Denied a straight answer, Enric had simply taken the long way around, detouring through another world. And since, as we'd already discussed, the Guardians kept our dual lifelines separate, I'd never even known was gone.
    My anger seeped away, and for a long moment all I could do was sit and shake my head. No wonder he was so patient, I thought.
    When I didn't speak, Enric leaned forward and took my hands. "Hey, I'm sorry if I jumped the gun --" he did his best to look ashamed -- "but at least I was honest about it."
    "Sure, after I made my big 'revelation.'" But he'd been patient enough to keep quiet until I was ready to talk; and I had to admire his initiative. Besides, I'd never asked him not to explore my background, anyway. I didn't withdraw my hands.
    After a moment, Enric cleared his throat. "I won't ask you to forgive me," he said, "because I know that would be pushing it. But I will swear, by everything that matters, that I'm on your side. Do you believe that, at least?"
    The shock melted away, replaced by the lightheadedness of relief. "You know," I sighed, "I think I do."
    "Well, thank God," the werewolf laughed. "All right, then, let's talk about what we're going to do with Bruun."
   
    Two hours later I was alone in my cabin, so anxious for Enric's return that I jumped when the knock came at my door. "It's settled," he said as I ushered him inside. "Bruun will meet you by the lifeboats in fifteen minutes, and he was more than happy to include me in on the gathering -- as long as I stay out of earshot."
    "Whose ears?"
    "Whose do you think?" he returned my smirk. "As far as Bruun knows, I'm just a gullible little boytoy who'll be fishbait before long -- that is, unless you decide to 'convert' me instead of kill me. But for now, he's pronounced me free of taint." He raised a jolly eyebrow. "If he suspects me of anything, it's being a fool, but at least he trusts me enough to help keep an eye on you."
    "And of course," I added, "there'll be crew around to keep an eye on you." The lifeboats hung directly under the busiest part of the ship.
    "Fine by me," the werewolf shrugged. "They won't be close enough to hear anything, and Bruun can't lie about what went on later if we have witnesses."
    My hand was already grasping the door handle. "Perfect--let's go."
    Gently Enric loosened my grip. "Just a moment," he said, and as wrapped his other arm around my waist. "Since Bruun's gone to all the trouble of fabricating this relationship between us, it would be a shame to let him down." And as his face bent toward mine, I wondered where I'd ever found the strength to hold him off.
   
    The demon hunter was waiting when we reached the life boats, hands fidgeting, face distorted by hate. He didn't move when he saw us, but waited for us to come to him instead.
    "Hello, Bruun," I said, stopping just out or reach of his arms.
    He nodded curtly; then turned his gray gaze to Enric. "All right, son, you've done your job. Now leave us."
    "Whatever you say," Enric drawled, barely containing his amusement. He shouldered past Bruun and walked on about twenty feet down the deck -- far enough to allay the hunter's suspicions, but close enough to hear and catch his scent.
    "Well then, demon," Bruun hissed, as our "guard" slouched against the rail behind him, "I assume you haven't come to turn yourself in, so what is it you do want?"
    "Just to reason with you," I answered truthfully. "I'm no demon, Bruun."
    The hunter snorted. "If you still aren't willing to admit to your nature, then we have nothing to discuss." He made a motion to leave.
    "I am admitting my nature," I retorted, and bit back the epithet that should have followed. "It would be pointless to deny I'm a supernatural; you already know that --" at this confession, the hunter's eyes widened -- "but Bruun, I know you realize, as much as anyone can, that not all supernaturals are evil."
    Down the deck, Enric nodded his approval of my words. We'd agreed from the beginning that the best way to win Bruun over was through flattery. No matter how mad he made me, I mustn't insult him, or I'd lose any hope of a peaceful resolution. And I did want peace, no matter how much the man got under my skin.
    Bruun, however, had another agenda. "Oh, so you're the expert now, are you?" He narrowed his eyes. "Let me tell you something, demon. I've been hunting your kind for nearly forty years now. I've testified at the execution of one hundred and forty-three monsters, and killed sixty-eight with my own hands. And do you know how many of those supernaturals deserved death? Every last one of them!"
    Over Bruun's shoulder, Enric frowned but didn't tap his nose -- the signal that would have told me he'd scented a lie. So our doctor friend really believed what he was saying. My hope slipped a notch, but I did my best to speak politely.
    "May I ask what criteria you use for determining that?"
    "Criteria?" Bruun spat. "You get into my head; that's the criteria!" As his rage built, he stabbed his temple with stiffened fingers. "You get in there and you burn me with your filthy mental fires! You poison me with your supernatural reek!" His eyes bulged and his hand flew out to thump my chest. "You're a perversion of nature, and you torment me by your very existence!"
    Stunned at the sudden vehemence, I backpedaled a step and tried to regroup. Enric's right, I thought. He is half-mad -- but it's the weight of his gift that made him that way. No wonder he wants to kill us all; the poor guy's just trying to get a little peace. "I'm sorry," I blurted. It was the first thing that came into my mind.
    I probably couldn't have made a poorer response. "Oh, you certainly are, you little toad," the doctor sneered. "You just won't know how sorry until the next death, when the captain sees your lies for what they are. Then, when your head is cut off and your body burnt, I'll be the first to spit on your ashes."
    My pity shriveled instantly. "How do you know anyone else is going to die, Bruun?" I asked icily.
    The doctor's eyes darted like pinballs as the shot hit home. "It's inevitable," he snapped. "It always happens when a supernatural is on the loose."
    "I'm sure it does," I glanced over his shoulder at Enric. "But is it always the supernatural that does the killing?"
    "Of course it is, you idiot!" Bruun snapped. "Just what are you trying to insinuate?"
    I gave him an innocent stare. "So you've never killed anyone yourself, not even to make sure a supernatural got what he or she deserved?"
    The gray man threw up his shoulders and gave his head a vicious jerk. "Just what I'd expect a demon to say -- all your kind are liars!" He gathered his dingy robes around him and sniffed loudly. "I'll have nothing more to say to you, creature, until I read you your death sentence!" And with that, he stalked off down the deck.
    I wasn't watching, though; by this time my gaze had shifted to a different performance. Enric was tapping his nose.
   
    Going to Uto was out of the question. There was no way we could convince him of the truth without exposing ourselves, and that would cause more problems than it solved. Even if we weren't arrested on the spot, we could still be thrown overboard -- and Enric couldn't fly. How ironic, I thought, that what I had longed for most had now become my greatest fear. Only Uto could breach the spell front, and if he did so it would kill my closest friend.
    "All we can do is keep an eye on Bruun," I sighed, gazing seaward, "and hope to catch him in the act."
    "You mean you can't execute him yet?" Enric asked.
    "Certainly not!" I whirled to face him. "Could you kill a man you'd never seen commit a crime?"
    Enric shook his head. "Of course not, but I thought it might be different for a Fury. Don't you have any special senses that let you know when it's time?"
    "If I do, they haven't kicked in yet." I leaned against his shoulder, letting the tension drain away. "You know those action heroes who can mow down a whole army without a second thought? I envy them. I hurt for every person I kill. I always wonder if there wasn't some way I could have saved them."
    "Which is part of what made you a Fury in the first place. Not just anyone could handle a responsibility like that." He draped his arm around my shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. "But we can talk about that later. Right now we'd better find our little friend before he gets himself into trouble."
    "You're right." I followed moodily as he sniffed his way toward the passenger cabins.
   
    Eventually we pulled up at Bruun's door -- locked, of course. "I don't hear anything inside," I whispered. "Do you?"
    Enric shook his head. "No, but this is where the trail stops. Maybe he's asleep in there."
    "Or drunk, or high," I suggested. "You said you smelled herbs on him before."
    "Whatever the case," the werewolf shrugged, "We'll just set up a watch. He won't leave without our noticing."
    Enric chose a pile of discarded rigging, while I slipped into the pocket between ship's hull and spell wall, and there we waited. Dusk came, then darkness, and finally the first gray light of dawn; but still nothing had happened. By then, we both knew something was wrong.
    Enric was the first to admit it, raking anxious fingers through his hair as he slipped back to my hiding place. "Something's up," he said. "I don't know how we missed it, but we did."
    Sighing, I floated up to the deck. There was no need to question his conclusion when I felt exactly the same. "Is there any way you could have been wrong about the trail? Maybe Bruun ducked into his room and came back out before we got there."
    "No, the intensity of the scents would be different." Absently he shook his head. "But if he's in there, he's either dead or comatose. No one can stay that quiet for that long. I think we need to have a look inside."
    I had to agree. "Can you pick a lock?"
    "If it's a simple one." Enric raised a clawed finger.
    I looked on appreciatively as he jimmied the latch. "I hope I'll get to see the rest of your wolf suit one day."
    "I hope so, too."
    I held my breath as he eased the door open, using his body to block out most of the light. If Bruun was dead, our problem would be solved without our raising a hand.
    He wasn't, of course. The room was empty except for the doctor's belongings: a wild scattering of books, chests and small glass vials. "Amazing," I said, lifting the lid on a container of ground herbs. "He's got a whole apothecary shop in here."
    "Which explains his scent, if not his mysterious exit." Enric opened the tiny wardrobe. "No trap doors, no entrances into Narnia. Do you see any magical items lying around?"
    "No, but I'm hardly an expert." I peered under the bunk, then rose and dusted off my hands. "Besides, if that is how he did it, he's probably got whatever-it-is with him. I know I wouldn't leave anything important lying around with a demon and her human flunky on the loose."
    Enric rolled his eyes and kept looking.
    In the end, we had to admit it was a lost cause. A fifteen-minute search turned up nothing more interesting than a handful of copper coins, and every second we stayed increased our chances of being found.
    "I think we'd better separate," Enric said, as we stepped out into the early morning light. "We'll have a better chance of finding him that way."
    I agreed, and after we'd set a time to meet again, Enric moved on toward the other side of the ship.
    My search was to begin with the passenger cabins, which ran for three levels down the center of the ship. Bruun's cabin was on the first tier, near the bow, and from there I headed sternwards and then down. The noise didn't hit me until I'd reached the second level: a babble of frightened, excited voices coming from around the corner.
    My stomach curdled, sensing disaster before the rest of me; but I walked on. There was always the chance that I was wrong; and besides, I'd been gripped by a strange fatalism ever since the confrontation by the lifeboats. Heart pounding, I turned the corner and found the crowd gathered outside my own cabin door. A dozen greedy stares turned my way--and Bruun's was among them.
    The chatter only increased as another form appeared, swelling through my open door like a thunderhead. Captain Uto.
    "Kyriel," he said, as he caught sight of my stricken face, "would you care to explain the body in your room?"

On to Part Five



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