Betrayals (Cainsville 4)

I closed my eyes and leaned forward and--

"Cach!" Gwynn said, which was not exactly the response a girl hopes for, and my eyes flew open to see him, staring up at the sky. When I followed his gaze, I saw how dark the clouds had gotten. Then lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, and Gwynn helped me to my feet. When my ankle buckled, he scooped me up without a word and started to run for a path winding up the cliffside. The skies opened and rain fell--not in a pleasant shower, but sheets of driving rain.

"Cach!" he swore again, and I said, "Agreed," though the wind whipped my words away. I raised my voice to say, "Let me down, and I'll walk as best I can," and he pretended not to hear me and ran through the rain until we reached a cave in the cliffside. He bustled me in, and I realized it wasn't so much a cave as a shallow opening in the cliff, just big enough for us to hunker down and watch the rainstorm in relative dryness.

When I shivered, he leaned against me, and I took advantage of the excuse to settle against his side. He put his arm around my shoulder, gingerly, as if I might throw him off. I snuggled closer and may have exaggerated my shivering and chattered my teeth until his arm tightened around me.

"It is not the place for a picnic," he said. "But...wine?" He lifted the skin.

I chuckled. "Mmm, not sure I should take wine from you, my lord prince. How can I be sure you'll not use it to enchant me?"

He blushed at that, his fair skin turning ruby red, and I took a moment to enjoy that flush, that sign that his mind must have leapt to thoughts of love potions. Then I released him with, "I'll drink it if you promise it won't turn me into a frog," and he gave a sharp laugh and relaxed, his hand rubbing my shoulder.

"Are you sure?" he said. "This seems the perfect weather for a frog."

"True, but no."

He uncapped the wineskin and handed it to me. "What would you be, then, Mati, if I could indeed work such an enchantment? Temporarily, of course."

"A cat," I said without hesitation. "So the next time I tumble off a cliff, I'll land on my feet, not my face."

He laughed then, a glorious sound, and I nestled against him, handing back the wineskin and--

"This was a crazy idea," a young man said, in a tone that suggested by "crazy" he meant "good." Slang from a more modern era.

He continued, "It'll be a kick. I'm glad you suggested it."

"I've always wanted to try hunting," another young man replied. "You seemed the right person to teach me."

"I am indeed," said the first voice, the accompanying laugh a little boastful, a little arrogant.

I was in the forest, the voices floating over me. When I made my way toward them, I caught a glimpse of my own sneakers and the legs of my jeans. Back to myself, then, but still caught in some vision. I continued toward the voices.

"I really am glad you asked," the first said again. "I know you and I haven't always seen eye to eye, but you're Alice's friend. I get that."

A noise from the second young man, a grunt that could be agreement, and the first continued, "I mean it. You two h

ave been pals since you were in diapers, and I've told her that's fine with me."

I finally reached them and peered through the trees to see that they were more boys than men. Maybe sixteen, seventeen. Dressed in hunting jackets and ankle-rolled jeans that put me in mind of the fifties. The boy in the lead was handsome--blond and burly in that captain-of-the-football-team way. The one behind was smaller, dark-haired, with a quiet intensity about him, and I knew, without another clue, who I was looking at. Another Arawn and another Gwynn.

I knew that, and yet...

These felt like relatives of Arawn and Gwynn, but distant. Very distant. I did not see Arawn and Gwynn in these two the way I saw them in Ricky and Gabriel. Another iteration, but a poor one, the connection weak.

"Did you hear me, Peter?" the blond boy--Arawn--said, glancing over his shoulder

The reply was a quiet, "Yes, I did."

"I said it's fine with me. You being pals with my girlfriend."

The blond boy clearly expected gratitude for his largesse, but Peter only nodded.

The blond boy's eyes narrowed. "I could tell her to stop seeing you. She'd have to. She's my girlfriend."

"I'd like to see you try, Carl," Peter said, his voice low.

Carl's face screwed up. "What's that?"