Eric Linnaeus | Book 3 | Chapter 29 - Don’t Come to me With Questions, You’ll Just Waste Your Time (Patreon)

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𝔻𝕠𝕟’𝕥 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 ℚ𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤, 𝕐𝕠𝕦’𝕝𝕝 𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖ᴇɪʀíᴋʀ ʟɪɴɴæᴜs: ᴊᴀɴᴜᴀʀʏ - ᴍᴀʏ, 𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟶.

─── .✦········· ───

A single snowflake held my attention as it was carried by the breeze. It traveled past rows of armed Fae and crossed the barren expanse between the two armies. Intermittent patches of snow decorated the frozen landscape, and the hooves of hundreds of uneasy horses pawed the ground as they fidgeted.

To one side were the banners of Dunkel, dark fabric with silver sigils, and to the other, an unfamiliar banner: cream fabric with dark green insignia. Nathaniel rode past me on a black stallion with a white mane and tail. He was wearing armor and held his sword in one hand. Flanking him were Achaicus and Markos as he gave the instructions:

“Archers at the ready!” Nathaniel spoke in his native language and was calm. He shouted only so others could hear.

With his order, the secondary legion drew their bows and took aim, while across the way, the other side did the same. They were led by a Fae woman with long white-blue hair and green eyes. She sat confidently atop a pure white horse and looked down at us with a bemused expression.

Something about her was eerily familiar; I knew her from somewhere but couldn’t say where from. Her aura burned high into the air, and a chill ran down my spine. Whoever she was, she was powerful. Beside her, were dark-haired people riding giant boars with brown to gold ombré fur.

Their blue eyes mirrored my own; they were unmistakably my family, and my heart began to race. I needed to warn him; he didn’t know what they were capable of. ‘Nathaniel!’ I called, but my voice didn’t carry, and he couldn’t hear me. A cover glamor burned across the sky, and the battle began.

Time moved sideways, and in a whirlwind of movement, horses thundered past. Blood stained the earth, and black energy devoured the flame of the Fae. Achaicus was the first to fall, then Markos, and as the last of the Dunkel army was executed, Nathaniel was surrounded. He looked exhausted, blood dripped from his chin to the ground, but his enemies kept a small distance.

They were cautious of him even in defeat. Nathaniel glanced over to where his brother lay, and with a soft chuckle, allowed the sword to drop from his hand. A man who looked alike to me was the first to move in to kill him, and I awoke with a start.

Cold sweat beaded on my brow, and it took a moment to reorient myself. My sudden movement disturbed Nathaniel, and he groaned. “Eric,” the complaint was thick with exhaustion.

“Go back to sleep,” I muttered. He had no idea how relieved I was to see him. Sometimes my dreams came to pass, not exactly as I had dreamt, but close enough that it was unsettling.

“This happens too often,” he scolded, and I was immediately annoyed. As if I enjoyed watching him die? Like I wanted to have these kinds of dreams?!

“It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose,” I snapped back. I had been having this dream or ones similar to it for months, and they were becoming more and more detailed each time. Most nights, I didn’t want to sleep because of it.

He exhaled in a controlled manner, and I knew he was fed up with me. His patience wasn’t endless, and it was as I begrudgingly realized I should apologize that he wrapped his arm around me. He covered my eyes with his forearm and held me close, “Nathaniel…” I began to protest, but the objection died as calmness washed over me. It was comfortable to be held like this, and I relaxed against him.

Nathaniel is the only person I can touch with these claws, and I held onto his arm lightly with both hands. I had intended to push him away before deciding I liked it. He smelt fresh, his skin was smooth, and I could feel the muscle in his forearm—it took everything I had not to think anything indecent.

Gradually he fell back to sleep, and I readjusted to face him. He was peaceful when he slept, and tonight was no exception. Nathaniel’s heartbeat naturally slow at thirty beats per minute or less while he rested, and his breathing was steady. There had been times, not all that long ago, when I was afraid even to let him close his eyes for fear he would stop breathing altogether.

I brushed the loose strands of hair from his face and gently traced my fingertips down his throat. He’s precious to me, something I would protect with my life, but it would take no effort to kill him right now. To sink my claws into his neck and rip his throat out… I hesitated with that thought.

It’s not that I want to do it, rather that’s just how I think about everything, everyone. Most days, it takes all my self-control to subdue the bloodlust. I must notice a thousand opportunities to kill in a single day, and it drives me insane.

If I haven’t slept, it’s worse, the fuse is much shorter. Fae have fewer potential ‘kill-moments’ than humans, although only because humans are so much easier to hurt. If you smash a Fae into a wall, it would likely do very little, but a human? Their delicate little brains hit the inside of their skulls, and they’re done.

Occasionally I catch myself wondering how fragile Charles is now with the witch’s energy coursing through his veins, and I resent myself for it. I hate that I’m like this. I promised myself I wouldn’t be like my family, but am I really any better? My only saving grace might be that I don’t want the things I would kill to die. Rather, it makes me sick to think about it.

I like to think I’m different from them because I understand the value of life. For anything to exist, for even a second, is breathtaking. Life is beautiful and rare, and once gone; it’s lost forever. Every opportunity for growth or change is wiped away in an instant. That’s why I won’t kill anything at all unless it’s completely necessary.

The way my family so needlessly extinguishes so much life from the world is repugnant. Even seeing blood at all makes me nauseous, and I dislike the juices that come out of meat, so I can’t be like them. I learned to control myself long ago; I don’t give in to whatever I might think. My thoughts are harmless, and my dreams mean nothing.

I’m splitting hairs with these excuses. It’s a miracle I haven’t killed anyone yet.

It’s worth mentioning to say that the Fae aren’t the only ones who are somewhat time blind. When your lifespan stretches hundreds of years, time moves differently, and so I couldn’t precisely say how much longer it was from that night before my life fell apart.

─── .✦········· ───

Sunlight filtered down through the trees as I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my arm. I must have set hundreds of curse seals by now all throughout the forest surrounding Dunkel. There was no possible way a vanir would get any closer than this barrier. Every trap was interconnected; if only one went off, they all would, and I was exhausted.

I’d been creating these things since the day Charles and I met one of my cousins. I wouldn’t allow my wretched family to hurt anyone I cared about. Not if I could help it. Gradually I sat back to rest, everything was going wrong, and most days, I felt like I was going to suffocate.

Calla hated me, Molly was poisoning the twins for whatever reason, Markos was keeping an uncomfortably close eye on me, and my family was nearer with each passing minute. I couldn’t keep up; but if I didn’t, someone would get hurt.

I wanted to tell Nathaniel, to confess everything to him, but what good would that do? I would only be shifting my burdens onto him, and he didn’t deserve that. I was balancing too many half-truths and had made too many poor decisions.

Calla refused to train or talk with me now. She resented me for what I did to her, and I can’t say I blamed her for that, but I also didn’t regret doing it. She was a brainwashed doll, and the idea of her having Markos’s child always made me sick. I didn’t think she was capable of deciding for herself; ironically, I thought I knew best. Or at least better than a human.

Charles has been distant since the day he met one of my cousins. We have hardly spoken since then. I found him in the library one day, he was reading one of the thousands of books there, and when I sat across from him he lowered the novel.

“Eric, what- ahh, what’s up?” he asked nicely.

I hesitated; it was plain to see that he didn’t want to talk to me. “I just wanted to see how you were doing?” I asked, self-conscious.

“Yeah, I’m good. Lots of training,” he answered minimally.

“With Nathaniel?”

“Yeah,” he glanced at the old clock on the wall, “Speaking of, I should get going. Good talk.”

Charles didn’t yet know I had threatened Claire’s child, or that I had lied to her, so his behavior was confusing. I got the impression that he would rather crawl out a broken window than talk with me and I can’t say that didn’t hurt.

He left, and I sat in confused silence, trying to figure out what he had learned about me to make him like this.

“Looks like your little friend doesn’t want to talk,” the voice came from behind me, and I stiffened.

“No one asked you,” I snapped.

“I’m just saying,” Molly shrugged as she walked past. She had undoubtedly been eavesdropping. “It seems you have fewer and fewer friends these days, Eric.”

I didn’t waste my breath answering her. She’d somehow gotten it in her head that I was working with Lazarus, and she wanted in. I have no idea what she hoped to achieve.

Regrettably, she wasn’t wrong. Nathaniel was the only one who would even speak to me at that point, and I found the less I had others, the more I needed him. Maybe that wasn’t healthy. I wanted him to tell me that he loved me and that everything would be alright. Of course I knew that would never happen, despite how much I might have needed it. I’m not even sure he knows the words.

The night Calla denounced me was especially bad. I was tired and upset. She left me in the forest, and when I tried to follow her, I became lost. I thought she was ahead of me, but the figure I was following disappeared, and I fell in the darkness. By the time I understood where I was again, I had no more magic left in my leg, and I had to crawl until there were enough things for me to lean against. It was humiliating, and the weakness disgusted me.

When I finally got back, I didn’t have the will to undress before stepping into the bath. Nathaniel found me there sometime later; after I had let my thoughts fester and hated myself. I wanted to be punished for what I had done to Calla, and I lashed out at Nathaniel as a result.

His temper had once been easy to invoke, and I was sure I could get him to hurt me. But that wasn’t the case. He’s changed so much since I had last known him, and he chose to leave rather than put up with my bad behavior.

He turned to go, and my heart began to race as panic surged within me—it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Up until that moment, I never realized how much I couldn’t stand for people to walk away from me. To be left behind.

I decided then that nothing else mattered. I wanted him to stay, and I didn’t care what I had to do to make him. If I had to crawl after him, I would have. If he made me beg, so be it. I’m not sure what made him turn back, but as he came close enough, I took hold of his clothes to pull him to me.

He probably didn’t understand how much I needed him. I had tried to sleep with Nathaniel many times before that, and he had turned me down repeatedly. It was cute the first hundred times. He could say no, whether under charm or not, and it was reassuring to know that whatever feelings he had for me weren’t ones I was inadvertently giving him.

But insecurity lived within each gentle rejection, and I didn’t understand. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t seen him naked before, the bathhouse is a common area, and he’s handsome everywhere, so I doubted it was that. Which meant that maybe he just didn’t want me.

Nathaniel likes control, and I always have to be right. It’s why we argue so often, but I didn’t want to argue; I wanted him to stay. Gradually, I chose to surrender myself to him. I gave him full control over me, and his acceptance calmed my nerves for a time. Unfortunately, the effect was only temporary, and I soon became more anxious than I ever was.

The dreams worsened, and I began having waking nightmares. I saw apparitions of the green-eyed fae woman walking about the halls with a crown on her head during the day. She was content, smug, and I followed after her, vexed.

Perhaps I was losing my mind. I closed my gifted eye in case it was some Fae residue or something, but she remained, and I hesitated before closing my Vanir eye. The Fae eye couldn’t see her, and I shuddered; this was a family problem.

I’ve been separated from my own kind for so long that I don’t know what I’m supposed to be capable of. I only remember small pieces of my childhood before the orphanage, Brigetta, Venere, my parents, Kári, Eyvindr… It’s all vague, and I had to suppress whatever powers developed so the Fae wouldn’t kill me.

As I followed the ethereal woman, I considered that I might be schizophrenic, or the Vanir equivalent. Maybe revenanting wrong damaged my brain as well as my leg, I thought bitterly. This kind of thing had happened to me once before, shortly before I met Charles.

Back then, the nightmares involved a man with brown hair and gray eyes treading through the forest somewhere in Maine. He looked so alike to Charlie that I assumed I was dreaming about him as if I had known him as an adult.

He hesitated when an unnatural scream came from the woods, and a cursed creature attacked him. As always, I woke as it tore him apart and lay staring at the ceiling for some time. I got the call from ‘Sheriff’ Barrett that same day and nearly fell over when I met Charles. He looks very alike to his great-grandfather; only Charlie had blonde hair.

I was distracted in my thoughts as I followed the apparition into the courtyard, and so I didn’t even see Claire approach until she punched me. I couldn’t defend myself or I would have hurt her. It was hardly fair that I was punished as well, considering I didn’t start the fight. I was confined to Nathaniel’s room, and I supposed that was alright.

Regardless, I found that every time he left, I became anxious. What if he learned about my family? Or what if Molly said something to him while I was imprisoned? I had nightmares about him leaving in the middle of the night to fight my family and discovering what I was.

Each time he returned, I watched him; trying to determine if anything had changed, and for a time, it didn’t… Until it did. Nathaniel approached me calmly, and I welcomed his touch. He said very little as he restrained me against the wall in his room, and, admittedly, I had hoped things were going in a different direction than they were.

I sort of liked it when he was forceful with me, so long as he didn’t hurt me. The tone of voice he gets when he’s a little bit annoyed is attractive in an unhealthy way, and I enjoy provoking him for that reason. I’m stronger than a human, but Nathaniel is double that, and he could leave bruises if he wasn’t careful.

When I tried more earnestly to get him to let go I realized that something had changed, and he wasn’t playing around. He tore Brigetta’s necklace from around my neck, and I scowled. “Nathaniel,” I warned, annoyed.

It wasn’t the first time the chain had broken, but it was the only thing of my cousin I had left, and fixing it was a pain. Moreover, the edge is somewhat sharp. It’s a revenanting tool, and it cut his fingers, although it didn’t seem like he noticed.

Nathaniel shouted questions at me, and I answered only the ones that wouldn’t hurt him. I don’t know how he found out about my family, but there was nothing I could say. No excuse I could give. He was hurt and angry. There was the pain of betrayal in his eyes as he searched for understanding in mine. He wanted me to say something so that he could forgive me. He wanted me to explain but I couldn’t, not without him learning worse things.

He didn’t understand that he didn’t want to know the full truth, and I wouldn’t tell him. If he ordered me to tell him, I would suffer the pain refusing a command induces to keep it from him. I was prepared. No matter what he did to me, I wouldn’t say.

When he realized I couldn’t give him the answers he wanted, he imprisoned me. The seals binding me were heavy curses. I suppose I should consider myself lucky he allowed me relative freedom within the room. It hurt me to see how much it pained him to do this, but it was better this way. I could take it to protect him.

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