Chapter Thirty

Too bad Farren didn’t have access to records from Domus. If Morrisey was indeed a traveler, there might be some significance to why someone chose him to cross the gulf into the human world instead of executing him for being Tenebris. No one really took the realm’s shrinking seriously back then, so maybe Morrisey’s otherworldly parents had some sort of advanced knowledge or simply protected their offspring.

But who’d surrender their spawn, an unheard-of act? Then again, even the most protective of parents would have followed the law and reported a Tenebris child. Wouldn’t they? Especially knowing their volatile tendencies. Tenebris were destroyers, highly dangerous if not paired with a Lux. While Farren might not have access to Domus’s history, someone else might.

The ride from Atlanta didn’t take long. More time would be better before facing a bittersweet memory. Each mile added more weight to Farren’s heart. Colm might not even be around. Guilt hit hard. Farren should have at least checked on Colm for sentiment’s sake, if nothing else.

GPS directed Farren to turn off the interstate onto a secondary road, then turn again at a gravel drive. He slowed the compound’s assigned car to a crawl to avoid potholes in a neglected drive. Pine saplings on either side brushed at the doors. Didn’t look like many people came here. Farren didn’t know whether he’d be sad or relieved to find the house abandoned. His feelings for Colm were… mixed.

Farren entered a clearing with an old log cabin that had somehow grown ten years shabbier in five years. A rusted Chevy pickup sat in front of the house. No other signs of life, though.

A riot of wildflowers grew in haphazard patches around the clearing, contributing contrasting color to the white blooms of a towering magnolia tree.

Farren sat inside his vehicle, trying to bolster his courage. What if Colm wouldn’t even see him? No use in putting off the inevitable. The blankets hanging over the front windows didn’t move. Quiet. Not so much as a squirrel or bird in sight.

Creepy.

Farren forced himself from the car and up the three uneven stone steps to the front porch. The air smelled crisp, with no hint of car exhaust, cooking food, or any other smells like he’d find in the city. Instead, fresh pine and honeysuckle filled his senses. The peace reminded him of his former home, the life he’d had…

The comparison ended there. Kele would never have allowed their home to appear so shabby.

The left side of a porch swing hung precariously by one chain, the opposite end on the floor. Moss grew on rotting plank floorboards. Farren breathed deeply, steadying himself before knocking. He really should have kept in touch. There was no reason not to, except… During his early days with the FBI, Farren tried to avoid other travelers to convince the humans he wasn’t part of some planned alien invasion.

Especially travelers with Colm’s skills.

Farren’s first knock went unanswered. He tried again.

On the third try, the door opened onto a craggy, haggard face. Colm wore faded jeans and nothing else, bare toes peeking from beneath fraying hems. He’d lost weight—or rather, his host had. His graying hair hung limply to his shoulders, his straggly beard gray to match.

After a moment, recognition flared in Colm’s eyes, and possibly the tiniest hint of welcome. Must be Farren’s imagination.

“I knew you’d be back someday, Aluxi.” The man who went by Colm Tate had visibly aged since their last meeting, unusual for a traveler. “You came all this way. May as well come in.” He stepped back, waving his hand in a dramatic “enter” gesture.

Farren entered the small cabin, nearly tripping on a gray tabby cat insisting on twining around his ankles. A snow-white feline perched upon the dingy couch, deeply engrossed in the hygiene of its nether regions via tongue bath. The interior was equally as shabby as the exterior. “You still have cats, I see.”

Colm snorted. “It’s more like they have me. They’re the only creatures in existence snooty enough to tolerate my stubborn ass. Come in. Have a seat. Beer?”

Officially, Farren wasn”t on duty, though in his former world, offering beverages wasn”t a host”s obligation. The visitor usually brought refreshments. Farren hadn’t. Colm needed no encouragement to drink his host into an early grave. An image of Morrisey came to mind. “Water, please.”

Colm”s laugh sounded bitter. “Suit yourself.” He shuffled into the kitchen and returned with a dubiously clean glass of water and a bottle of beer. Oh, well. Farren could heal from minor human ailments such as botulism poisoning. He accepted the water, only pretending to drink.

Colm scooted the white cat over and sat on the couch, nodding toward a rocking chair across the way, stuffing leaking from a tear in the seat.

Farren sat delicately, shifting sideways to evade a spring poking his rear. He’d dealt with Colm enough to know that what others might take as a suggestion, Colm intended as an order—regardless of potential damage to one’s posterior, also an easily healed inconvenience.

“Speak your piece.” Colm washed his words down with a swig of beer.

Farren sipped his water to buy time, ignoring the grit on his tongue, all his rehearsed speeches suddenly leaving him. “You’re looking well.” This entire visit could have been avoided if the old codger wasn’t so against telephones.

Colm snorted. “Cut the bullshit. We both know I look like what I am—a dying man. I can’t heal cirrhosis. I’ve no intention of taking another host either. I’ve cheated the great beyond long enough.” He expelled a few body-rocking hacks.

Sounded like more than cirrhosis plagued Colm. One more reminder of home soon to be gone forever, and Colm too damned stubborn to fight for his life. No surprise there. ”Still a blunt asshole, aren”t you?”

“I’ve never understood why humans dance around the truth and don’t just come out and say what’s on their minds. So much easier when you just spit out what you gotta say.” The white cat jumped into Colm’s lap. He idly stroked its back.

Apparently, he wasn’t a hard ass with all creatures.

So much for exchanging social pleasantries. Farren got to the point. “You came here a few years before I did and have access to knowledge I don’t.”

Colm lifted one shoulder in an absent-minded shrug. The white cat glared, then dashed from the room, head held high. If Princeps took on animal form, they’d definitely be cats. “I know things many people don’t know. I’m old, wise, and nosy.”

True enough. Colm had been a scholar once, someone who’d thrived on knowledge. “While in Domus, did you know of a missing spawn, say, about forty years ago, maybe a little longer?”

Colm scratched beneath his beard. “I don’t think so. Folks didn’t start trying to save their little darlings until much later.”

Surely Farren hadn’t driven all this way to leave knowing no more than when he arrived. “Nothing?”

“The ruling couple of sector twelve were rumored to have spawned, and they died under mysterious circumstances. No one could really say for sure. You know how new parents are about hiding their young.”

In the old realm. Not here. Human parents scheduled photo shoots and birth announcements practically before the child entered the world. The Princeps were worst of all, thinking a young life to protect made them vulnerable. There was no such thing as nannies in Domus because parents trusted no one with their young. Particularly if the child were Tenebris. Reality hit. “To get the child, the parents would have to be killed.” Could Morrisey actually be Princeps?

Colm gave a sage nod. He’d been considered old even among Farren’s kind. “It’s not likely they gave up their spawn willingly.”

Exactly as Farren feared. He wouldn”t mention Morrisey—for the time being. Though he’d fallen so far over time, Colm might still feel honor bound to kill Morrisey. Domus wasn’t fond of the unknown. Particularly beings whose skills they didn’t understand.

Farren changed the subject. “How are you?”

“I told you. I’m old, and I’m dying.”

“If you weren’t so against the idea, you could always find another body. I could even help you.” In fact, Farren had access to bodies no longer needed by their humans, lying beneath the FBI complex.

“What? And miss the fun of this one falling apart?” Colm coughed, his entire body spasming. A troubling sign for his continued existence.

They sat in silence, the click, click, click of the rocking chair counting down the minutes. “I don’t hold it against you, you know,” Farren mumbled, nearly inaudibly.

“You used to,” Colm replied just as quietly.

“When I was young and dumb. After my parents died—”

Colm smacked his palm onto the coffee table, startling the remaining cat. The tabby paused its napping, blinked a few times, and then went back to sleep. “Your parents didn’t die. For all you know, they could still be alive somewhere. We don’t know exactly what happened when the sector vanished.”

“As could Kele.” Farren abandoned hope long ago.

Colm remained quiet.

“I loved Kele, you know.” Another reason to avoid Colm. Though he appeared vastly different in human form, his aura brought Kele to mind. A family resemblance.

”Not enough to stay together,” Colm muttered, venom in his words. “I should have brought Kele with me.”

Farren met the gaze of the one humans could call his father-in-law. ”If you hate me for not being there when it mattered, why did you pull me into this realm?” He lifted his chin in defiance. Once more, anger seethed, though, at Colm or himself, Farren couldn’t say.

Colm said nothing, staring at his hands. Voice raspy, he finally said, “One, because my spawn would have wanted me to, and two, because I’m bastard enough to want you to suffer without them too.”

Yes, Kele had a good heart. In time, they would’ve gotten over whatever they’d fought about and reunited—after a fair amount of groveling from Farren.

“You haven’t taken another mate.” Colm phrased his words as a statement of fact, not a question.

“No, I haven’t.”

Colm’s bushy gray eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “Why not?”

“Work keeps me busy.” Why did Colm want to know when he’d spent over ten years blaming Farren for Kele’s vanishing? Or blaming Farren for not vanishing, too, rather.

“You should find someone.”

What? I may have. Farren didn’t say so out loud. How foolish to develop feelings for someone he could potentially have to banish. This world’s rules weren’t the same as he’d been taught since childhood. He couldn’t simply banish someone for their tier in society or what they might do in the future.

Colm paused nursing his beer. “Why are you asking about a spawn?”

Might as well tell everything. At one time, they’d gotten along well, and Farren had sought the elder’s advice. “I’ve been assigned a human work partner who can see travelers in a human form.”

“Don’t you mean demons?” Yes, Colm had spent a sufficient amount of time on this plane to hear many insults.

Farren enunciated clearly, “Travelers.”

“Damned political correctness.”

The man”s penchant for being ornery just for the purpose of orneriness hadn”t changed. “The bureau found evidence to suggest he could be a changeling.”

Colm set his beer beside the couch, a new water ring in the making starting on the hardwood floor. He leaned in, resting spindly forearms on his knees. “Changeling. Now, there’s a term I haven’t heard in some time. Those were extremely rare.”

“Yes.” In order for a changeling to work, the human and traveler children had to be at similar stages of development. Adult travelers had tried before to occupy the bodies of children but never survived.

“Does he know?”

Morrisey couldn’t possibly have a clue. “I don’t think so.”

Colm ran his fingers through his beard, staring off at the wall for a time. “The only way for a child to get from Domus to Terra is by summoning. They never stumble in on their own.”

“He was summoned.” Farren studied Colm for tells. Travelers were usually only summoned to be used in some way. Which backed up the faith healer story. Better not say too much.

Colm raised both hands defensively. “I haven’t brought anyone over but you. It’s part of the agreement I made with the government. No summoning.” Of course, Colm kept his word. He’d not totally changed from the honorable man he used to be. Just grown more bitter. Yet he had told no one about bringing Farren to Terra.

“Someone did. And there’s more.” Farren bought time with a deep inhale and exhale. ”I suspect he’s Tenebris.”

No mistaking the alarm on Colm’s face. “The child or the summoner?”

“The child.”

“Oh, shit. You know what that means, don’t you?”

“What?” The gut-wrenching sensation in the pit of Farren”s stomach said he already did.

“If he doesn’t know what he is, wasn’t evaluated and taught how to wield his power or what he’s capable of, he’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

Or a disaster already happened. Farren’s deepest fear.

Colm stood. “Where is he now?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’d better the hell find out before someone else gets there first. If he’s Tenebris from the Princeps, not balanced by a Lux, his powers could be limitless.”