Betrayal of Cernunnos by Matthew Fish

Author:Matthew Fish [Fish, Matthew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 39090181
Published: 2015-07-06T00:00:00+00:00

“I’ll be back soon,” Felecia said as she nodded. “Besides, be here to cheer up Emily in the morning.”

“Well, let’s head back then,” William said as she turned to one last time to Mark. “You lost some good people today, and I know things didn’t go as you had hoped. For what it’s worth though—you did the right thing. I’ll always be around when you need me, just give me a call if anything comes up.”

“Thank you,” Mark said as he sipped at his bitter drink and watched William and Felecia leave through the large metal door, allowing a gust of wind and snow to fill the room and chill his bones.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Grandma Fran asked as she clamored into the room. “You are far too young to be drinking, and why is your girlfriend all…oh dear lord, is she hurt…and you’re hurt too?”

“Met with an old friend,” Mark said with as he shook his head. “Only…yeah, turns out he didn’t want to be friends anymore. Emily’s out for the day, but she’ll wake up in the morning, I’m sure you’ve seen this kind of thing before.”

“Not amongst youngsters,” Grandma Fran spoke as she reached behind the couch and pulled out a large case. She retrieved some bandaging and some needle and thread, give me a hand with this will you…”

“Maddie,” Maddie said as the old woman turned to her.

“Don’t bother,” Mark said as he took another sip of alcohol. “I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“I used to patch up my old Spotter,” Grandma Fran said as she ignored Mark and pulled up the left side of his blood stained shirt. She poured some strong smelling liquid onto a cloth and placed it against his flesh as Maddie held onto the needle and thread. “He always got himself shot up—Perpetuals can be so reckless.”

“Fuck,” Mark said as the injury burned from a combination of the liquid and the pressure.

“Now, Maddie, if you could hand me the needle and thread,” Grandma Fran said as she took the items and began to stitch up Mark’s wound as he looked blankly to the bookshelf at the far wall.

“What was your old Spotter like?” Amelia asked as she watched the old woman work. She had never seen someone get patched up before—her father had a man shoot her once when she was around thirteen, but he just let the wound heal on its own. It was one of the worst days of her young life. The pain lasted for hours until she finally passed out, unable to take it any longer.

“He was a good man, strong too,” Grandma Fran spoke as she tied up a small length of thread. “He once flipped over a Buick on its side for us to use as cover, quite handy with a rifle as well.”

“My sister is a spotter—not the one that’s out cold over there, but my older one,” Amelia spoke as the old woman put her items back into her case and slid it back behind the couch.

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