Consequences

Chapter 18: caedes

*

‘Don’t fucking touch me.’

But he chuckles, baring yellowed teeth. His hand slides further down my body, grazing his fingernails along my thigh, before moving into the pocket of his robes. Then I see it, in the pale light of the waxing moon—the glint of his knife. I can feel my body stiffen; I know what happens next. He leans over me, his blood-matted hair hanging in my face. His stench is overwhelming.

He slides his hand down over my belly. ‘I’m going to make you come in spite of yourself. I will make you beg me.’

‘No.’ I don’t scream it this time, just say it as forcefully as I can. But my voice betrays me; I can’t shake the fear of what’s to come.

He’s over me, the weight of his body pinning me to the forest floor. Tree roots dig into my back. His hand slides up my side and he whispers against my ear. ‘…blood ... cut ... rip ... tear ...’

‘No!’

But then I feel it, the cold, steel blade of the knife against my breast. ‘Please, no. Please...’ He just smiles at me again. The blade sinks in, and I’m screaming. I open my eyes to see him, his face inches from mine, drinking in my every reaction. I’m giving him exactly what he wants and there’s nothing I can do about it. His knife finds my side the second time, and the third. The warmth of my own blood flowing over my skin makes me shiver. He lowers his mouth to my breast.

There’s nothing I can do ...

I can feel his tongue, his teeth scraping against my wounds; hot tears on my face. Then his hand comes up under my chin and he forces me to look at him, at his patronising smile. There’s blood on his lips, his teeth. My blood. His mouth covers mine. His tongue pushes past my lips. I clench my teeth instinctively, but his thumb is digging into the side of my face; I know he’ll break my jaw. I have to relent. I can taste blood in my mouth, my blood in my mouth.

His fingers slide across my belly, his knife against my hip, rough hands pushing my thighs apart.

‘No!’

But it’s the woods, and it’s dark, and there’s no one.

The tree roots cut into my wrists as I struggle; more blood; I don’t care anymore.

He marks my left hip with his knife and then my right. I stop struggling when he digs his thumbs into the wounds. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of screaming, but I can’t help myself. There’s nothing I can do. He sweeps his robes aside. It’s happening. It hurts so much ... there’s nothing I can do. I can’t stop this. Can’t ... So I shut my eyes and just try and concentrate on something else. Something other than the despair I feel, something other than the pain that racks my body.

The breeze is cool on my skin and, somewhere in the distance, a thrush is singing ... but ... I can’t escape this ...

From somewhere to my right something growls. Caede doesn’t stop, doesn’t seem to notice. I’m sure it was there; that it was real. It gives me the energy struggle again.

But he always gets angry when I struggle now ... My head snaps around as the back of his hand hits the side of my face. I can taste fresh blood in my mouth. Then his knife finds my side again and I’m screaming.

A large shape leaps from the shadows. And suddenly warm blood sprays across my face, as jaws clamp down on the back of Caede’s neck. It’s a wolf. A large, tawny wolf with greying fur. And even as I hear the flesh tear and bone break, I wrap my arms tightly around its massive neck and bury my face in its thick, soft fur.

I can’t stop myself from shaking, I feel so sick, I ...

But his hand is in my hair and the other on my back. I can smell sandalwood soap and I pull myself as close to him as possible. I don’t ever want to let go. I can hear his heavy breathing, feel soft kisses on the side of my face as he gently lowers me to the bed.

I’m in my room. My bed. And Remus ... Remus is here. He’s back. His cloak is damp from the rain, but I don’t care; it’s wetter still now with my tears. I shut my eyes, trying to concentrate on the man who holds me now, trying to push the sickening feeling from my head, from my skin; the feeling of Caede. Remus’s stubble grazes my cheek as he kisses the side of my face; he has no idea how much that helps to calm me. His fingers move gently through my hair, over my neck and down my side. I look up at him, seeking solace in those dark eyes of his. But his eyes aren’t calm; he looks afraid.

‘Who did I bite?’

What?

‘Who did I bite?’ he asks again; there is definite panic in his voice now. And I notice his hand is once more on the back of my neck. ‘Not ...’

I shake my head quickly. ‘No, not me. Him. You got him . You stopped him.’

Remus lets go a long breath and slides to the mattress beside me, wrapping me in his arms. His chin rests against the top of my head and I tighten my grip on him. My head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. My favourite place to be.

‘I love you,’ he whispers.

‘I love you, too.’ And for ages I just lie there, listening to the soft thumping of his heart. So glad that it’s over, that he’s here, that he’s mine.

Slowly, I feel myself relax, feel my own heartbeat return to normal, feel the tremor leave my hands. I kiss his chest through the thick fabric of his robes. He’s still wearing his travelling cloak and he still has his boots on. He must’ve just got in when ...

‘How did you do that?’ I whisper.

He draws a deep breath and lets it out slowly. ‘When I got home, you were screaming. I tried to wake you, but I couldn’t. I just thought that ... if I used the same charm, perhaps I could change things for you.’

‘You used the same kind of magic?’

‘Yes.’

‘So when I have that dream again. Will it end the way it always does, or will it end ...’

‘With me,’ he says firmly.

And I’m crying again, sobbing against his chest. His hands move up and down my back. ‘Hey, it’s all right. Don’t cry.’

But he doesn’t understand, it’s so much more than all right. I’m so grateful.

‘Thank you,’ I manage, raising my head to look up at him. He kisses my forehead and wipes my tears away with his hand.

‘Xena ... that dream ... Why was I ... Why was I the werewolf?’

I want to tell him, I really do, but I just can’t. ‘I’m not sure,’ I whisper. It’s somewhat true. After all, Caede is a man. Remus kisses my face again, threading his fingers through my hair.

‘Were you afraid?’

‘I’m always afraid in that dream.’

‘I mean ... of the wolf?’

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘I knew it was you.’

*

He said he’s just tired.

Said he needed a lie-in and a think. So I left him in bed.

Just a paperwork day for me today, and I had to attend a meeting. I think it was intended to boost morale, but ended up with Robards just telling us all that we all need to do a better job. There have been no arrests in the death of Amelia Bones. The only Death Eaters caught that night were the four, well, five, that were trying to kill Kelly. And they weren’t high-ups or anything. We should have more by now.

He was asleep when I got home. Still in his robes, curled up in my blankets. I didn’t have the heart to wake him. Can’t blame him really, he travelled a long way last night. I think he was in the Borders. He’s been gone for two days on some errand for Dumbledore. A meeting of sorts, I think. I pour the tea into two mugs and add a splash of cream to each. It’s nearly four. Perhaps tea will get him up.

But he’s awake when I enter the bedroom. Lying on his back, one arm crooked behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

‘Wotcher, sleepy head.’

He smiles softly and holds his hand out to me. Setting the mugs on the bedside table, I slide down next to him, my head on his shoulder. He slides his arms around me and kisses the side of my face.

‘Still tired?’ I ask.

‘Yes.’ He nods. ‘But I have to meet Dumbledore at seven. Give him my report.’

‘How was your trip? Productive?’

He nods again. ‘I think so. Hope so. Still a lot of work to do, though.’

He doesn’t elaborate and just pulls me closer. It’s Order business and I know I’m not privy to everything, but I’m still curious.

‘Where did you go?’ I ask. ‘Can you tell me?’

He nods slowly. ‘I went to see Fenrir Greyback.’

And it’s like a Freezing Charm over the room. Cold. Fear, that’s what it is. Caede is back in my head again, the feeling of him, the weight of him, the smell of him. I’ve never met Fenrir Greyback, but from what I know of him, he and Brennan Caede are cut from the same cloth.

‘Why?’ I hear myself whisper.

‘There are things the Order need to know. Greyback’s activity is one of them.’ He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s nothing to him. But his jaw is clenched and I don’t believe his tone.

‘Xena, what’s the matter? You’re shaking.’

‘Just cold,’ I lie. He pulls the blankets up around me.

‘Perhaps you should drink your tea.’

‘I will, in a bit. Remus?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did you mean by “ There’s a lot more work to do”? ’

‘Just that.’ His fingers slide through my hair, his lips brush my temple. ‘I’m going to have to go away again,’ he says, almost apologetic.

‘For how long?’

‘I’m not sure. Greyback is rallying the werewolves near Duddingdon. Convincing wizards who have little faith in their Ministry to follow him instead. He’s got a lot already. In short, he’s raising an army for Voldemort. I have to ... I’m going to join him.’

What? ‘No.’ I shake my head, pulling myself up onto my elbow. Looking down at his face. He’s got to be joking.

‘The Order need a spy ...’ He has his matter-of-fact tone again.

But if they find out, if they even suspect him ... ‘You can’t. It’s too dangerous.’

‘I must.’ His fingertips brush the side of my face. ‘The Order ...’

‘Let them find someone else.’

He chuckles. ‘Who else, Xena? It’s got to be me.’

‘But ... Greyback ...’

‘As I said, who better?’

‘No.’ My heart is pounding in my ears, and this just isn’t right, and ... He can’t do this ...

‘I know these men; I am these men. I have to do everything I can to convince them that Greyback’s way isn’t the only way. That they can lead good lives. I only hope, when it comes to it, their Ministry won’t let them down.’

‘I don’t want you to go.’ I drop my head to his chest and slide my arms around him. All I can think about is the article in the Prophet a few days ago; what Greyback did to McDougall ...

‘I don’t particularly want to go either.’ He kisses my temple and chuckles again. ‘Believe me, I would much rather be tucked up here with you than sleeping in a cave in the woods with a load of hairy, unwashed men.’

‘Don’t forget women too.’

‘Shush.’ He kisses my forehead. ‘I have to do this,’ he says firmly.

‘I know you do. But I’ll miss you, and I’ll worry about you more than I’ll ever let you know.’ I concentrate on his top button instead of his face, trying to keep my tears at bay. His hand comes up gently under my chin, and he kisses me softly.

‘I’m not going tonight.’

I wrap myself in his embrace and rest my head on his chest, drawing comfort from the rhythmic music of his heartbeat. I wish this war, all of this ... I wish it were all just a bad dream. I wish I could lock the door and shut the world out. Keep him here, keep him safe. Our own private universe.

After a time he kisses my face again and I hear him inhale deeply, his fingers moving through my hair.

‘What would your parents say, if they knew you and I were together?’ he asks.

‘Well ...’ I slide my fingers across his chest. ‘They would want to meet you. And you’d realise how mad everyone is ...’

But he’s shaking his head. ‘What would they say if they knew you were with a werewolf?’ He turns his head and looks at me, his eyes locking with mine, searching ... And suddenly I’m rather scared; he’s never asked anything like this of me before. Why now?

‘I don’t know,’ I answer truthfully. ‘I’d like to think my parents are liberal people. After all, Mum’s family pretty much disowned her for marrying Dad. I don’t think she’d do the same to me ...’

‘This is different.’

I try and look away, throw my gaze over his shoulder, but he won’t let me and his eyes lock mine once more. ‘I know,’ I say finally. ‘They may be a bit concerned ...’

‘With good reason.’

‘But once they got to know you ...’

‘Would they want to get to know me?’

‘Of course.’ I smooth the collar of his shirt with my fingers.

‘Are you sure?’

But I’m not.

‘What about your friends? Do you think you’d still get invited to birthday parties, Christenings, that sort of thing?’

‘Yes. If they’re really my friends, it shouldn’t matter.’

‘It will matter.’

‘Why are you ...’

‘Because it’s true. Because ...’ He shakes his head. ‘It’s true.’

I slide my arms further around him, tightening my embrace. I feel like I want to cry again. I want to argue with him, I really do. I want to scream, “ My friends, my family, are different!” But truth is, I don’t know that they are. He kisses the side of my face again, and rolls away from me.

‘I’m going to have a shower.’

A moment later he’s gone from the bed and I’m blinking back tears. Taking a deep breath I scrub my hands over my face and sit up. Overreacting as per usual. Stupid. Probably just something he wants me to think about. Probably something I should think about. But why now? I know things may be difficult. I know there are people for whom the prejudice is just too great, and ... Well ... sod ‘em. Really, what more is there to say?

*

The bathroom is hot and full of steam and I shut the door quietly behind me. His robes hang on the hook at the back of the door, so I slip mine off and leave them draped over the sink. The mirror is steamy and I can’t really see myself except for the colour of my hair. Still, I feel the need to run my fingers through it, to draw a deep breath and compose myself, before pulling back the curtain and slipping into the shower behind him. His back is to me, his face to the onslaught of the water. I say nothing, just take a step forward and rest my face against the warm wet of his back. His breathing changes slightly, but otherwise he doesn’t react. I haven’t surprised him. It’s hard to surprise Remus. The spray of the shower trickles down the side of my face, over my shoulders as I slide my arms around him, moving my hands up over his chest. His hands soon cover mine, hugging my arms to him.

‘Decided you needed a wash too?’ His tone is surprisingly cheerful and he kisses the palm of my hand as he turns toward me.

Resting my chin against his chest, I smile up at him. ‘Been at work all day. I’m ever so grubby.’

He chuckles, his hand cups the side of my face, his thumb brushing across my cheek. ‘So you are. Dirty little witch.’

Can’t help but giggle. I can feel the heat in my face. He smiles at me, a real Remus smile this time; it makes me feel so much better. Standing on tiptoe I slide my arms around his neck into his wet hair. I love him all soggy. The fine mist of the shower catches my face, but it doesn’t matter, I just close my eyes and kiss him.

It’s like kissing in the rain. We’ve kissed in the rain before. That night when I took him to the club. He practically dared me to. I made him blush. He didn’t know where to put his hands. He knows now. His hands slide down my body, over my backside and up my back again as he pulls me firmly against him. His lips trail down my neck, teeth scraping my shoulder as his hands move over my breasts.

He seems to have a thing for my breasts. He kisses down my chest; wet lips, wet hair, wet stubble ... I slide my hands over his shoulders and close my eyes in the water, revelling in every sensation caused by his lovely mouth. Eventually he resurfaces, his hands moving up my back and he’s pulling me against him once more. I slide my hand down his side and slip it between us, stroking my fingers down the length of his erection. He groans against my ear; it gives me a lovely shiver. So I wrap my fingers around him and begin to stroke him more rhythmically. His breath is heavy; his lips move slowly down my neck, across my collarbone. He bites down gently on my shoulder. Another brilliant shiver. I slide my free hand into his hair and turning my head, I capture his mouth.

His hands move down my back once more, and then he’s lifting me. Slipping my arms further around his neck, I wrap my legs around his waist, deepening our kiss. He takes a step forward and I gasp at the sudden cold of the tile against my back. I laugh myself, as he chuckles softly.

‘It’s cold.’

‘Mmmmm.’ His lips part from my neck moving back up to my mouth He shifts my weight to his left arm, his right hand slides down my thigh. And beneath me, I can feel him, feel him positioning himself. Feel him guiding me slowly downward ... oh fuck ...

I can’t help but let the moan escape my lips. Can’t help but throw my head back.

Damn. Forgot about the wall.

Head hurts.

Don’t care ...

*

Pulling the sheet over me, I sit up, watch him dress. Muggle clothes. Trousers, polo neck and jumper. He looks nice. He needs to mess his hair up a bit though, but then, it’s probably only me that likes him tousled. Probably not Dumbledore’s thing ...

‘Shan’t be long.’ He smiles at me, leans down and kisses my lips then adds, ‘Don’t worry, everything will be all right. I promise.’

And he’s gone. My front door closes and I’m alone again. Sliding from the warmth of my bed ... our bed, I like that better… I find myself a pair of pyjamas and some woolly socks. Another cold night.

Hot chocolate seems in order, and I settle myself on the sofa in front of the fire with my new book. Not Molly Malone this time. Hattie Jones. Tabi sent it to me. Ms Jones is supposed to be very good, and the wizard on the cover is holding his wand in a rather interesting position, so I have high hopes. I pull the blanket off the back of the sofa, wrap it around me and send another log into the fire. It’s raining again. Always seems to rain now. More like November than July. Hope Remus has an umbrella.

I wonder how long he’ll be gone for. Not tonight, but when he goes. A week? Two? More? I’ve managed two nights without him. Well ... one night, really. I don’t think I can really count last night as successful. I don’t want him to go. I really don’t. I know it’s terribly selfish, but I want him to stay with me. I want him to make me soup, and kiss me goodnight, and leave his pyjamas, neatly folded, at the foot of my bed every morning ... I don’t want him to go. I don’t want to be without him. I hate this ...

I shut my eyes and listen to the rain pound down on the roof.

The wolf begins to prowl ...

I see Daddy’s stars and hear Caede’s whisper and feel his breath in my ear. Shiver as he pulls back the blankets and lifts me from my bed. I want him to walk through the house. Why won’t he walk through the house? But then, the leaves crunch under his boots as he carries me through the garden gate. The smell of the trees, of moss, the night ... Stars swirl above me in the sky. I can’t find Orion and his dogs; they’ve abandoned me as well.

The light from the waxing moon illuminates the trees, the falling leaves, the path to the old willow.

I feel the cold earth beneath me, feel the trees’ roots harden at my wrists, my ankles; hear Caede’s words, his promises. ‘ Cut ... rip .. tear ... beg me.’

‘No!’

His rough hands move down my body. Dried blood under his fingernails, matted in his hair ... The glint of his knife in the moonlight.

‘Please ...’

But he doesn’t listen. He never listens. Cold steel against my breast. The sharp sting of the blade as it sinks in. Blinding pain, and I’m screaming. I can feel his breath in my face; the smell of him ... I open my eyes to see his face inches from mine as he pulls out the knife. Waiting a few moments, enjoying my agony before punching it into my left side and then my right, between my ribs, twisting the blade. My eyes close and I can’t see anymore ... my screams echo in the still of the night. He won’t stop. He never stops ...

Something is growling.

I feel a spray of warmth on my skin, and I open my eyes to see a large wolf clamp down on the back of Caede’s neck. But then, everything changes ...

Caede drops and rolls away, but as he clambers back to his feet, he is no longer a man. He is a huge silver wolf. A wolf I’ve seen before. The wolf I watched tear strips of flesh from that man in the New Forest. Blood covers the silver fur on the back of its neck, blood seeps down over its shoulders. And I’m shaking, far more than I was for the man. I want to run. To get as far away from that thing as possible. But I can’t, all I can do is lie here bound to the earth, the tree. All I can do is watch as Caede’s wolf stalks back toward me, its tongue licking saliva from its great jaws.

But the other wolf is still here, hurling itself forward as Caede approaches, grasping, biting for the larger wolf’s throat. This time Caede is ready for him. He turns at the last moment and great claws slash across the brown wolf’s shoulder. It rolls over in the dirt, but is on its feet again in a matter of seconds. On its feet and on Caede again. Its jaws clamping down on the back of Caede’s already bloody neck. It shakes its head like mad, trying to break the bones. Caede’s claws slash across its chest this time and it’s forced to let go again. It doesn’t miss a beat though and is on its feet and once again locked in battle with Caede’s larger form. It’s hard to tell who’s what as they roll over and over on the ground in front of me, trying to tear each other to pieces. The smaller wolf is thrown again and Caede crouches for the final strike ... And then everything seems to happen in slow motion. Caede leaps again, but the other wolf waits, waits until Caede is airborne before moving himself, jumping himself. Jumping and clamping down on the underside of Caede’s neck. The sound is horrible. Blood everywhere as the brown wolf tears the throat from the body of the silver one. I have to shut my eyes ...

When I open them again, the silver wolf lies bloody and dead in the cold light of the moon. And the other, the other stands over me, panting heavily, teeth still bared, blood dripping from large teeth. Why am I not afraid? It drops heavily to the ground beside me, and I feel soft, warm fur against my skin.

‘Xena? Oh, God ...’

His hand is on my face, and the warmth I feel is suddenly the fabric of his robes instead. I look up to see a wizard where the wolf had been. His robes are torn across his chest and there is blood. His shoulder is bare and bloodied too. There’s a gash on the side of his head. I reach to touch him. To tell him everything will be all right ... But ... my arm won’t work. I look to his face, to those lovely dark eyes of his. Tears in his eyes, tears down his cheeks. And ... the way he’s looking at me ...

I can still taste blood in my mouth. Feel it slip down my chin. For the first time, I look down at myself, my skin so pale in the moonlight ... so white. There’s blood everywhere; all over my chest, down over my stomach, over my hip. The earth beneath me is wet with it. Am I still bleeding ...

I see the flurry of a brown cloak as my eyes close. The warm, rough material lands over my body. I can feel his hands, wrapping the fabric around me, pulling me into his arms. Gawd, it hurts.

‘Please, Xena ...’

... like he’s begging me.

He lifts me from the ground. It takes that for me to realise that my bonds are gone; Caede is dead. Caede is really dead. Tears on my face again. I want to wrap my arms around Remus’s neck. Want to thread my fingers through his hair. But I can’t. Why can’t I? I hear the crunching of the leaves under his boots. Smell the sweetness of the night in the forest.

He carries me so carefully; it’s like floating. Slowly, I open my eyes. But ... Why ... I can see myself. I can see him and I can see me. Like I’m walking a few feet ahead of him. There’s blood on my face, my arms hang at my sides. He carries me close to his chest as we pass through the garden gate. He’s whispering against my ear, I can see his lips moving, but I can’t hear him anymore.

There’s an old, stone bench by the pond under the wisteria. He lays me there. His hands move swiftly over me. My hair, my face, my neck ... I can’t feel his fingers on my skin; I want to feel him ... He unwraps his cloak from my body, draws his wand from his robes. There are only three wounds, but ... so much blood.

He waves his wand and speaks his incantations. But he has no Coagula, no Blood Replenisher, none of the things you need to accompany the spells he so desperately mutters. It’s not working ...

Moving closer to them, I look down at the girl on the bench and barely recognise her as me. She’s so pale. Her hair is brown, her lips are white, no ... they’re blue. He kisses her, and I put my hands on his shoulders, slide my arms around his neck but, for the first time ever, he doesn’t seem to know that I’m here. All his attention is on the girl before him. He rewraps his cloak carefully around her, wets his sleeve in the water and washes the blood from her face. Tears fall down his cheeks as he kisses her forehead, her eyes, her lips ... His shoulders shake, his head falls to her chest, he cannot contain his grief.

What’s happening?

He pulls her into his lap, holding on, clinging desperately to her. He’s whispering again. I can’t hear ... I want to hear ... He kisses her face, and raises his head, screaming his pain to the wind.

Is she ... Am I ...

It’s like I’m falling ... I’m dizzy ...

I don’t know what to do. I ... We ... need help ...

The stars swirl above me, Orion and his dogs ...

I can’t see Remus anymore. Where is he? Where are we?

All I can see is stars ... all I can see is ...

‘Sirius!’

But then his star isn’t a star anymore. It’s a fire. My fire. My fireplace. And we’re on the floor of my sitting room. Remus’s arms are tight around me. So tight. The stubble on his chin pressed against my cheek, wet tears on my face; I’m not sure whether they’re mine or his. He whispers against my ear, ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

I slide my arm around his neck, thread my fingers through his hair. He starts. Starts, pulls back a bit and looks at me. It seems to take a moment for him to focus, for him to see me looking back at him.

He smiles and chokes out a rather hysterical laugh. ‘You’re all right. Oh God, you’re here. You’re all right.’ His hands are on my face, in my hair, moving down my side and up again. There are no rips in his robes, no tears, no blood. None of it was real.

I pull myself closer to him. He’s here. I’m here. I can feel him. I can touch him. I can hear him.

I am grateful for the warmth of the fire, the strength of his embrace, his breath in my ear, the smell of sandalwood, the feeling of his hands on my skin, of his lips on my face. I listen to his heartbeat slow to its familiar rhythm. His hands slide up and down my back. He kisses me again.

‘Brennan Caede.’

‘Yes,’ I whisper, barely audible.

‘You should’ve ...’

‘How could I tell you that?’

His arms tighten around me. He lays kisses on the side of my face. I shut my eyes. And once again, I can’t stop crying.

*