It was a few hours later when Clive finally achieved consciousness, and it came slowly at that, like he was floating in a sea of sleep while he stubbornly tried to break the surface into proper coherence. His mind felt groggy, his limbs tired and achy, and for several confused moments, he had forgotten all about what had happened while inside the caverns. He opened his eyes and his vision was greeted with a veil of darkness, covering the grim sandy wasteland with night. It was not absolute in it's embrace, however, and Clive could see a small fire crackling heartily a few feet away from him, the playful leaping flames illuminating the rest of his friends and comrades. They were all there, everyone, everyone that he had missed.
They were ringed around the fire in a little circle, sitting on deadwood logs that had probably come from some of the decrepit trees lying around the canyon. Clive knew that he was leaning against one himself, the only support that was keeping him in a sitting position. He leaned into the wood a little more, tilting his head back a little and taking a nice deep breath of pure clean air. It was a lot more wholesome than the stuffy dust-infested breeze that had haunted the caverns, he could vouch for that himself. Clive smiled slightly and yawned weakly, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. If had felt like he had slept for about a week, though it didn't help his physical condition very much. Looking up at the stars, he could tell from their position that it must be near midnight, almost the very next day. Midnight, the point where it was neither one day nor the next.
Virginia was sitting on the opposite side of the fire to where Clive was, Jet also sitting closely next to her. He was practically leaning into Virginia's side, which would have looked quite cute to the casual onlooker, until one noticed the bandages around Jet's chest, the ones wrapped around his forehead like some kind of bandanna, and the remade sling binding his gun-arm, because the boy had managed to damage it badly once more. His leg was still broken and wrapped in a firm splint, but it had been treated with medicinal herbs and several healing arcana, now resting slightly elevated on a flat stone. Jet looked beyond tired and beaten up, in fact, Clive could almost feel Jet's aura's pain. Virginia was there, though, and Jet seemed to be grateful for that, in his own silent way. It was probably the only reason why he allowed himself to cuddle into her like a small sleepy child.
Gallows was next to Jet, and sitting on Clive's right, with Kaitlyn in her lap. He was cleaning the blood from her face and casting a heal arcana over her as well, trying to remove the small bruises that Romero had given her a little while before. Kaitlyn was sitting still and allowing the magic to wash over her in pleasant waves, her eyes closed in some kind of calm. Clive didn't know this, because he had been unconscious, but for all the time after the caverns had fell, Kaitlyn had been as quiet and as subdued as an introverted adult. She had smiled though, as they had expected her to, but for the first time, that smile lacked the unadulterated happiness that was within each little boy and girl, those who were blissfully ignorant. Kaitlyn had gotten a premature taste of the horrors of life, and in experiencing this, a small part of her childhood had been stolen away forever. But somehow, Kaitlyn felt herself a little wiser for it, though she had no idea why. Gallows patted her on the head when he was finished, and then she smiled again, in that exact same way.
Dario was on Clive's left, the bearded bandit seeming to be uncomfortable sitting next to a creature that had almost killed him in an inhuman form. He had a long stick and was poking the fire gently, as if the coaxing motion would make dawn come quicker and then he could leave. He was the outsider in their current group, one of the members of the enemy. He had only been allowed to stay because it was the humane thing to do, and because Kaitlyn had wanted him to stay with them, if only for a little while. She had already explained to her mother that Dario was a 'nice man', one who had been kind to her when she was away from her family, and that he didn't deserve to be treated cruelly by anyone at all. By this token, Dario was ignored. In truth, Dario himself was quite content to continue being ignored, that way nothing bad could possibly happen to him. He was still in a little bit of shock over Romero's death, too.
A cold damp cloth was pressed against Clive's cheek now, the wetness startling him just a little. Slowly, the cloth rubbed back and forth a bit and he realised that it was Catherine wiping the dried blood from his face, the ex-drifter sitting very closely by his side. Clive tried to lean into her but discovered that the side she was sitting on was also his injured side, and it would be quite impossible for him to move it so much without worsening his injury. He tried to say something but Catherine made a small hushing noise, causing his planned words to fall dead on his tongue. She smiled, but it was a sad, almost regretful smile. "Hello, Honey." She greeted softly, cleaning the blood and dirt away. "Did you sleep well? It has been quite some time since you fainted, we were starting to get a little worried about you. Please do not speak if it hurts too much, just concentrate on getting well again."
Clive had no wish to speak in the first place. Instead, he looked into the burning fire and analyzed the dancing flames, eating away and blackening the timber underneath. The memory of what had happened, it was still fresh in his mind, like an unpleasant brand or tattoo, but it was also very distant, like remembering a dream only seconds after waking. Had he really fought Ravendor in a demon duel to the death? Did he really see Boomerang's past, and recognise it as his own? Had he really been bitten by Luceid and turned into some kind of half-wolf, half-humanoid creature? It all just felt like some kind of horrible bad dream. Clive ran his tongue along the tops of his teeth and then felt the elongated structure of the demon fangs in his jaw, and moved his tail a little bit to see if it was real or not. Yes, it was real. It had really happened.
Lowering the hand that bore the cloth, Catherine pulled away and wrung the water out of it, along with the cleaned-off blood. She then picked up a medical kit that Gallows had given her and opened it, removing a long thin needle and a length of twine. Using her experience of sewing, Catherine threaded the needle and tied the doubled-over thread at the end, readying it for use. "I am sorry." She whispered to her husband. "I haven't had time to treat your wound properly yet, I was too busy aiding Gallows in the treatment of Jet, Virginia and Kaitlyn's injuries and trauma to really be of any help to you. I knew you would not mind, you seemed to be the most resilient of us all. But I can treat you now. Just hold still."
He felt a small pinprick in his shoulder and anticipated another burning episode of pain from the action, just like it had happened before with himself and the antidote. The thought was foolish and Clive knew that he should have known better, but a primitive part of his mind caused him to flinch from the tiny bit of pain, a small jerk that he could not control. Had Clive the ability to see his own wound better, it would have made him cringe even more. Deep tooth-marks had torn apart the flesh of his shoulder, not ripping the tissue away, just gashing it in a way that would have made it most painful to deal with. He may not have turned into a monster, but the old wound had come back to haunt the swordsman's steps. Catherine threaded the needle through one side of the deep gash and silently remarked upon how easily the piece of metal could move through Clive's tissue, and how she expected that the wound could hold together properly as long as she took enough time and care. Crossing the thread to the other part of the wound, Catherine started to stitch Clive up as best as she possibly could.
The needle moved swiftly through Clive's wound, the fine thread trailing behind it weaving throughout his flesh and gradually pulling taut the reopened injury. Catherine was making neat little stitches that would hopefully leave only a small scar, provided that the wound would remain clean and sterilized. She had already bathed the bite with an antiseptic wash earlier when Clive was unconscious, making use of all the healing and medicinal items that had been stocked up inside Lombardia's metal shell. Clive didn't even have the energy to flinch whenever the needle-tip pierced his skin, his dark mahogany eyes staring blankly into space. He blinked a couple of times and then at last regained complete coherence. His head was killing him and his body felt far too weak to move, stiff from finally receiving needed rest. The only part he could properly feel was a long dull burning ache in his shoulder, reminding him of his more recent past.
Clive made a small, almost whimpering noise as he raised his right hand carefully and placed it over Catherine's left hand, the ex-drifter leaning over him as she stitched up his wound. Enclosing his hand around hers, he felt an immense amount of relief when she squeezed back. His throat felt immensely dry and scratchy, practically withered, making him deeply desire a glass of water above almost anything else. He would have to wait, though, because the last thing he could do right now was to stand up and maybe even walk around, to search for a source of water. He could feel the cool night breeze on his skin, his coat, vest and shirt having been cut to ribbons during his last decisive fight. Most of his injuries had healed well, except for the wound on his shoulder that Catherine was trying her very best to mend.
And it was quite clear now of the extent of which Clive's body had changed. The small patch of fur that had been growing over his bitten shoulder had spread across his front, his back, and a little down one of his arms. On his chest it was slightly longish and a clean shade of white, while the rest was a little bit shorter and coloured a dark greyish-blue. The fur was very soft, not quite like silk and not quite like wool, it was unnatural and an unwanted side-effect of the lycanthrope curse. Clive really didn't mind this very much, because the night was very cold and the fur was offering him a little bit of warmth. Clive felt that he needed all the warmth that he could possibly get. "I…" Clive managed to rasp a bit, trying to speak. "I… slept too much." He said, and then smiled.
The ex-drifter smiled as well, almost finished with the repair on Clive's shoulder. "You deserve to rest, Clive." She assured him, "We all deserve a good long rest." Catherine removed a small pair of scissors from the medical bag and cut short the rest of the twine, tying it firmly near the end of the bound wound so the thread would have no way to unravel itself. It looked a lot better than before, much cleaner and less painful. Clive felt the burning increase slightly when Catherine dug her hand into the bag again and pulled out a small vial of liquid, pouring it onto the damp cloth that she had wrung dry only a few minutes ago. The smell coming from the vial was very purifying and sterilizing and Catherine rubbed it into the fabric, then carefully placing the cloth over the wound for a little while, to allow the flesh to absorb some of the unidentified elixir's properties.
It stung when the cloth touched Clive's wound, but the sting also drove the aching burn away, which was far better than what Clive could had hoped for. It was just when his shoulder was beginning to feel numb when Catherine at last removed the cloth again, using it to wash off the dried splashes of blood upon his fur and skin. He felt a little bit inadequate to let his wife care for him like a baby, but he honestly didn't mind right now, it felt good just to be near her again without the treat her of her being taken away. The smell of the strange elixir brought renewed vigor into Clive's body and he felt more stalwart and secure, sitting up from his almost slouching position.
Virginia finally noticed that Clive was awake, the drifter leader straightening a little and smiling hesitantly. "Clive," She said, "You are yourself now, right? I think it's finally over. We'll spend the rest of the night here tonight and then we'll head back to Humphrey's Peak tomorrow morning. We're all a little too tired now to move anyway." She looked down. "And, um, I suppose you might be a little too fragile for us to risk moving in the first place. Truthfully, Gallows says that by all rights you should be dead now." He had taken an unbelievingly brutal beating during the time they had been in the caverns, if it had not been for his advanced metal body, he would have perished hours ago.
"Yes Virginia, I am myself." Clive answered, his voice growing a little stronger from exposure to the elixir fumes. "This is about as a human as I will ever be again. I do not think it will be too bad though, perhaps being part wolf will make me a finer and more efficient drifter. I know I can track better than I ever could have accomplished before." He felt better when Virginia cracked a smile at this, the girl looking back into the fire. Catherine took out a roll of pristine white bandages and began to bandage Clive's shoulder tightly, to prevent an infection penetrating the stitched-up wound. She was being so gentle that Clive barely even noticed what she was doing. "I am not a human, but I am not quite a demon either. I would like to believe that I bear the characteristics of both. If I do that, then I think I could live with myself without hating myself at the same time."
"And I think we can live with that as well." Virginia agreed, nodding. Then she lowered her head a little bit. "Clive, I'm… I'm sorry about the way I treated you back in Claiborne. It was just so hard to accept that one of my best friends could have become such a horrible monster. I was so paralyzed with fear that I acted intolerantly and I hit you. I didn't know what I was supposed to think or do. But then," At this point Virginia smiled a little bit. "Then Jet set me straight. I guess I forgot that humans aren't the only creatures that can think and regret their own actions." The drifter leader's hands had been clasped tightly in her lap, but then she raised one happily, grinning. "If the demon race had been more like you, Clive, then there would have been no need for their eradication!"
This made Clive think back through Boomerang's memories, but for the moment, he would keep silent about that part of himself. He would tell the others all about Boomerang later, when he was more rested and sure of himself, but until then, he decided to remain quiet about it. Right now, all it would do if he told them would confuse them all. Clive didn't want that. "You do not have to apologise." He told her kindly, "You had every right to act the way you did back then. It is I who should apologise for disappearing when I promised to remain with you. However," He looked up at the dark sky momentarily, "If I had not been a demon with a durable metal body, then I would never have been able to destroy Ravendor and the hate that he brought with him into this reality. If I had still been human, I wonder what would have happened to us all? Fate can work in unusual ways, sometimes."
Fate is the string of music to which we all dance the dance of life. In it is woven the notes that make up destiny, and the staves in the sheet of music are the guiding future that we walk to with our heads held high. But if fate is the music, then that must make desire the musician, the desires that make people dance to the tune of fate. If Luceid knew what was going to happen… did she… did she awaken my memories on purpose, to give the human race a fighting chance against their own impending destruction? Did she anticipate this from the very beginning?
It sounded so crazy that Clive could have almost believed that it was true. Glancing over to where Kuronegaiken was standing, the end of it's blade buried in the sandy earth, Clive felt a shiver pass through him and he decided to look away. Catherine finished binding his wound with the bandage and pinned off the end with a small metal clasp, finished with her work. Smiling, she kissed him softly on the cheek and sat back down next to her husband, draping a thin brown blanket over the both of them. Kaitlyn had a metal ladle in her hands and was using it to nudge a moderately-sized pot resting in the middle of the small fire, because her arm was not long enough to actually insert it into the pot itself. Gallows chuckled and removed the ladle from her hand, stirring whatever it was in the pot by himself. It smelt like stew, not unlike the stuff that Shane had been cooking in the Carradine household yesterday afternoon.
Gallows poured a small amount of the stew into a small wooden bowl using the ladle liberated from Kaitlyn, then he passed it over to Virginia, dropping a spoon into the stew for her to use. The food wasn't for herself, though. It was for Jet. Helping the silver-haired youth to sit up a little bit, she passed him the spoon, but Jet's hands weren't working properly and he ended up dropping it within a few short seconds. Using his inborn power and fighting too much had hurt him more than he had expected, the effects of his actions manifesting as a delayed reaction. Jet slumped a little, sighing in defeat.
Virginia helped Jet to eat, treating him like how a nurse would treat a handicapped patient, holding the spoon up to his lips so that he could drink the more thinner part of the stew. Jet needed to keep his strength up, and Virginia honestly liked to help. The thing that the others found most unusual about this was that Jet was actually letting her treat him like a baby, although Clive guessed that if it had been anybody else they would have had their head wrenched from their shoulders. He also knew that Jet would recover in a few days, a week or so at the most, while his broken leg would take a little longer to heal. This wouldn't stop the boy from drifting, not at all. As long as he had somebody to lean on, to use as a crutch and as support, then he would be okay. And that somebody seemed to be Virginia Maxwell.
Clive accepted the other bowl of stew when Gallows offered it to him, gripping the wooden rim of the container and resting it in his lap. Lazy wisps of steam and a tantalizing aroma of stew wafted from it, smelling of many different kinds of vegetables. Gallows's special stew, he guessed, but he could also tell that there was absolutely no meat in it whatsoever. He would have smelt it otherwise. It was perfect. Grasping the wooden spoon carefully, Clive noticed that he had a small scar on the back of his hand, and when he set the spoon back down again and turned it over, there was an identical upon his palm, a reminder of when he had been pinned to the wall and ruthlessly tortured. Clive knew that this scar had a twin on his other hand, and he hoped vehemently that his healing factor could remove them in a few days. Sighing, Clive picked up the spoon again and tried the stew, his hand just the slightest bit shaky and nearly causing him to spill some of the stew down his front.
It tasted like potatoes and carrots, with the smallest hint of celery, and the thought of vegetables didn't repulse him anymore, not as it would have when he was under the influence of the curse. Clive felt that he had had enough raw meat and blood to last him for several lifetimes. It made him a little sick to know that he was probably digesting part of Romero's remains right now. But he had to stop thinking about things like that. No matter how much he pondered over the negative things in his mind, he could not change the events of his past. It was time for him to get over it, and finally look towards the future without regret. If he could properly do this, then he could honor the memories of those who had died under his own bloodstained hands. Clive slowly ate the stew, savoring the vegetable taste. It seemed to get rid of the almost ever-present tang of coppery blood in his mouth.
"You know what, Clive?" Gallows remarked, his voice cutting through the deep silence of the camp. "I just remembered something important. While you were looking for your daughter, I was looking for part of that antidote, and I met somebody along the way. It was a weird and kinda creepy meeting, but I'm glad I met him, nonetheless. You remember that item merchant we keep on running into? Roykman, I think his name was. He told me to give you this message, and here it is." Gallows paused for a few seconds, trying to recall the information. "He said that you shouldn't feel guilty and it wasn't your fault, if you continue to blame yourself for the past, you will never atone and find repentance." The Baskar looked down. "I didn't really know what he was talking about back then, but now, I guess I do…"
The metal demon looked at his Baskar friend levelly, trying to think up the correct words to say. Then he sighed. "Gallows, you must be mistaken." Clive informed him. "There is simply no way that you could have met Roykman last night, it is quite impossible. I know this for sure. However, what you have relayed does made profound sense to me, in fact, I was thinking about that this very second. I do not know who it was you met for sure, but whoever that person may have been, he was very wise." Clive lowered his spoon into the half-eaten bowl of stew, setting it aside. "Roykman is dead. I am completely certain that he is dead. I tore the flesh from his bones myself. I do not like to reflect upon it, but it is true. In my madness, I slew him." Clive put a hand to the side of his face and let out a shuddering breath. "I have killed so many people, it makes me sick inside. Even if it was not my fault, it was these hands here that ripped the life from the pleading bodies of the innocent."
"You can blame your hands, Clive, but you can't blame yourself." Virginia told him solemnly and firmly. "Listen. You are not the only person who has blood on their hands, you know. If everybody on Filgaia backtracked over their lives, I bet they could all find a death or two to heap upon their record. A very dear friend of mine told me that justice can't be found everywhere, and I can agree with him. No matter what anybody does, people will still die. The best we can do is protect those we care about the most, and hope that they do the same. Clive…" The drifter leader stood up, her hands clasped together in front of her body. "Ever since Daddy died, I mean, ever since Hyades was sealed and his spirit left Filgaia, you've been like a surrogate father to me in every which way. I think my Daddy would be happy to know that you've been able fill the gap that he had to leave behind." Virginia gingerly rubbed her neck. "I'm sorry if I'm assuming too much about how you feel, but I-"
Clive also stood up, a motion that was more difficult than he would have originally anticipated. It hurt a little, but he ignored it. Limping a little, he walked around the fire and stopped about a foot away from Virginia, the girl turning slightly to face him. The metal demon moved his hand up to adjust his glasses, but then found out that he wasn't wearing any, his old pair far too cracked and broken to be of any use. Clive smiled and lowered his hands to his sides. "Virginia, I am honored that you choose to think of me in such a way. Truthfully, you have been like a daughter to me as well. I know I can never replace Werner and what he meant to you, and I sincerely do not wish to try, but I am glad to have been able to help you, Virginia. You have helped me as well. And I believe that is what bonds are all about."
Virginia nodded and hugged him, Clive gently patting her on the back. Though it was late and he was tired, Clive suddenly felt more alive and content than he had been for a very long time, the knowledge that everything was okay now finally letting his mind be at ease. There was just one more thing for him to do tonight that could at last put the souls of the past at peace. Clive pulled away and looked at the others, his right hand lightly touching the bandages holding his shoulder together.
"Everybody," He said, "I think it is time for the final interment. Let us give the wandering souls an undisturbed sleep."
xxx
Nearly everybody in the canyon had lost somebody dear to them that night. Clive had lost a brother while Dario had suffered likewise, doubly so. Jet had lost a mentor and Kaitlyn had lost her uncle, one that she had only just gotten to meet. Catherine had lost both a brother-in-law and an old lover, coping with the news of this death for the second time in her life. The only thing they could do now was pray that the dead would find their salvation. They had to put some faith into their prayers.
And it was so.
Seven people stood in a solemn line outside the collapsed entrance of the destroyed ruin, all of them had their heads down, bowed in quiet silence. Jet had his arm around Virginia's neck, using her as a crutch to keep his broken leg undisturbed. Other than this, one stood out and was standing in front of the others, speaking calmly and ritualistically, giving the three lost souls resting amidst the rubble, the casualties that had composed most of the renegade bandit team, their last burial rites. Gallows was best suited to this job, being an up-and-coming priest and all, but he was not doing this act out of simple personal charity, oh no, he was doing this as a special favor to Clive, and for his own priestly obligation. He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened between the time they had been encased by the falling rocks and the time when they had finally been released, but he knew in a deep gut feeling of his that something had happened. Something that had deeply changed the Winslett family into something else, a family that was much altered, and much wiser than before.
Gallows modified his rites a little, for the deceased involved were obviously not members of the Baskar faith. Dario had mentioned that Romero didn't follow any particular faith, while he had no idea of what Antonio had believed in. Did it really matter? They were all dead anyway. Dario had removed his hat and was twisting it slowly around in his hands, distractedly thinking of other things. Of the four brothers that had made up his little group, he was the only one left alive. What was he going to do now? Dario didn't think he could continue his life of debauchery after everything that had happened, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to anymore. Without his brothers, Dario just couldn't be the bandit that he used to be. It made him wonder why on earth he was even still alive.
…'Prolly because that demon over there let me live. Leaning forward a bit and looking down the line of the tired congregation, he could see Clive near the end, holding both Catherine and Kaitlyn's hands in prayer. He had his eyes closed, and was not in the least bit threatening at the moment, but that didn't stop Dario from getting a severe case of the willies every time the bandit looked at him. He had seen the monster that Clive had become, and was very nearly slaughtered by it. How on Filgaia was he to remain calm with that thing nearby? Impossible. "I know they weren't much in the way of personality an' all," Dario said quietly, speaking under Gallows's burial rites, "But Ro and 'Tonio were the only family I had left. They've all gone to see Lucio, I guess. We weren't even related, but dammit, it still hurts."
"I know how that feels." Clive answered without opening his eyes, causing Dario to jump a little. "I let my own big brother die. I didn't want him to die, but sometimes I cannot have my own way in life. If death was what he wanted, then I want his death to be without any pain or misery. I have seen Hell, and I know that Ravendor didn't deserve to be sent there. If God is merciful, then I can pray that He will have mercy on Ravendor's soul." Clive opened his eyes slightly, half listening to Gallows's chants. "That way," He continued, "I can let the dead rest without guilt."
"Yeah," Dario agreed, nodding. "You're right. I can do that too." Understanding this, it made his heart lighten a little, like a lead weight had dropped harmlessly away. It made his breathing better, a little less cumbersome than before.
Kaitlyn was gently rubbing the small silver cross hanging around her neck with her free hand, her little brow furrowed in thought. She squeezed her father's hand a little to get his attention and looked up at him imploringly. "Daddy, when we go home tomorrow, after that, I wanna go to Little Rock and see Annette. Please, Daddy? I just really wanna go. I really wanna see her again." Kaitlyn put her hand to her moth when she said the word 'again', wondering where it had come from. It had kind of popped out of her mouth and mind without her consent.
Catherine answered this time, tightening her grip on Kaitlyn's hand slightly. "Maybe Kaitlyn, when Daddy feels better." The girl nodded and resumed her little air of silence, looking at the huge pile of rocks in front of her with mixed feelings. Catherine looked over to Clive and smiled wanly, a smile that was strangely beautiful in her own little trademark way. "Honey, it does not hurt as much as I would have expected it to." She admitted calmly. "At first I thought it was because my heart had hardened to the pain of others, but then I suppose it was because I have already grieved over Ravendor's death earlier in my life. Actually, it almost makes me feel happy to know that he is dead, to know that he isn't suffering anymore. He suffered too much, and many long years ago, I tried to ease his suffering, but I just made it worse. This is… such a relief." Catherine released Kaitlyn's hand so that she could wipe the tears out of her eyes, sniffing.
Clive nodded calmly and knelt down to pick Kaitlyn up, letting the little girl lean on his uninjured shoulder. She was getting heavy, soon he wouldn't be able to pick her up like this anymore. It seemed like only yesterday that she was just a tiny little baby. Time went by so quickly that it nearly astounded him. Kaitlyn's golden-blonde head was bare of her two blue ribbons, the only one she had left had been removed and tied around her necklace, into a small blue bow behind the silver cross. It looked quite pretty and it seemed to suit Kaitlyn perfectly. Clive lifted the small cross from Kaitlyn's chest with two fingers gently and then looked at it, before smiling and letting it go. "My daughter is growing up so fast." He said with a hint of fatherly pride. "She is almost already grown up. Soon she will be just as big as me, right Kaitlyn?"
She herself nodded happily, her smile like warm sunshine. "And when that happens, Daddy, I wanna be a drifter just like you! I want to have adventures and a lot of fun too! Uncle Ravendor said that as long as I want to be a drifter, I can be." Kaitlyn awaited her father's reply and Clive set her back down on the ground again, pausing a little to pat her softly on the head. When Clive had been her age, he had already considered himself a proper drifter, and now to see Kaitlyn desire the same thing, it made him feel nostalgic and a little strange inside. But she had already survived such a horrible night filled with pain and death, and even that, she had showed more than ample skill in synchronizing with a finely-tuned ARM. It would be a huge waste of talent indeed to see her not become a drifter at all.
"I do not doubt his words, or your ability," Clive said kindly, "But until your are big enough to fly on your own wings, will you stay here as my daughter, Kaitlyn? I am sure that your mother and I would miss you if you left too early." Kaitlyn giggled and hugged him, then she broke away and hugged her mother as well, very happily. While he was watching this, Clive felt a pair of small talons dig lightly into his right shoulder, tight enough to be secure while it was loose enough not to draw any blood. Kestorael cocked his head to one side and cawed a little, looked curiously at the green-haired demon. Clive closed his eyes. "Kestorael, it has been a very long time. I am sorry that your master had to die, it was a death that he didn't deserve. If…" Clive hoped that Catherine would allow him to do this, "If you have nowhere else to go, you can stay with us if you want. I do not mind. For as far back as I can remember, you have been like family."
The raven cawed loudly and bit Clive on the ear, the equivalent of deep gratitude and affection in raven linguistics. Clive chuckled and let the bird hop down his arm, so Kestorael could rest contentedly near his wrist. Gallows, nearby, was finishing off the burial rites in a low chanting tone, sounding more like a true priest than Clive had ever heard him before. The Baskar laced his fingers together and bowed, ceasing his chant to speak in simple quiet words.
"And so may the four Guardian Lords take these souls into their angelic care, hand in hand towards He who is composition of all godly power. May Zephyr guide you. May Luceid lead you. May Justine keep you. May Raftina bless you. Find eternal solace in the knowledge that those living grieve for your passing, and sleep in heavenly peace until the world is filled with blessed light. Romero Arlecchino Gigio. Antonio Soprano Orso. Ravendor Swanky Begucci. I lay you three to rest. Amen." Gallows untangled his fingers and then clapped his hands once, loudly. Just like that, the ceremony was over. Gallows lowered his hands and turned around, rubbing the back of his neck. "There," He said, "That's about all I can do for them."
"Thank you, my friend. It is more than enough." Clive said appreciatively, and then he yawned. Even though he had gotten a few hours sleep a little while ago, he was still dog tired. The metal demon looked over everybody there and saw that they were all quite exhausted themselves and ready for a night of undisturbed sleep. "Will we need a watch for tonight?" He asked them all, but then remembered Lombardia's presence. She would be on the lookout for intruders anyway, whether they asked her to or not. "Oh yes, Lombardia. I am so tired I cannot think straight." He admitted jovially. "I am going… to go back to sleep now, before I collapse on my feet again. I can sleep soundly knowing the dead are at rest."
"I second that idea." Virginia answered, still helping Jet to stand up without a crutch. The silver-haired youth looked tired, and so was she. Looking back at the campsite, she guessed that sleeping near the fire would keep them warm for the night. Catherine, Kaitlyn and Clive went back to their spot near the fire, both husband and wife sitting side-by-side with their daughter in their lap. The drifter-leader helped Jet back to their side of the campfire, easing him down into a comfortable position and covering him with a blanket. The night was cold, and she supposed that Jet wouldn't mind if she slept next to him, he would say something if he did. The boy just sighed and leant back into Virginia's side, closing his violet-coloured eyes.
Gallows looked at this subtle display of affection and sniggered quietly to himself, he really liked it when he was right. Now all he had to do was find some way to bring those two together even more, without anybody finding out his intentions. But that was not something to think about tonight, maybe later. The big Baskar glanced over the happy family on one side, and then the happy couple on the other. It seemed that he was the odd one out. Sighing, Gallows wished that Becky was here with him, to even things out. He felt all alone. Turning slightly, he noticed that Dario was still there. The bearded bandit waved slightly, then shrugged. "Noooooo…" Gallows moaned, falling over comically. He fell asleep that way a quarter of an hour later, in that same position. Everybody else in the camp had obediently followed suit.
And without notice, the night rolled on.
xxx
Somebody was snoring quietly in the campsite when the universal clock of time, struck the entry into the witching hour, the last dark hour before the dawn. It was a magical time, an arcane time, perfect for the realm of spirits and the realm of humans to blur slightly in their boundaries. It was time. Clive was leaning on his unhurt side with his arm around Catherine and Kaitlyn protectively when he heard the familiar angelic voice in his dreams, coaxing and beautiful. Magical.
…My love, it is time.
Time for you to come back, time for us to be together once more…
My dear sweet Boomerang, my darling noble Clive…
Come back to me.
Clive opened his eyes and groaned a little, sitting up. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool, and he shook it slightly, getting rid of the clinging dregs of sleep. The voice of Luceid was calling him again, and he had no choice but to obey. Rubbing his eyes a little, the metal demon picked the sleeping Kaitlyn up with utmost care and put her in her mother's lap, trying hard not to accidentally wake her up. He pulled the thin blanket over the two girls and then kissed Catherine lightly on the cheek, quietly saying goodbye.
"Catherine, it is time for me to confront her. Please give me strength…" Clive stood up and looked around, glancing at the spot where Kuronegaiken had been thrust into the ground. The weapon was now gone. And this was the final signal that it was time to go. Glancing up at the starry sky, Clive knew that it would be morning soon, and the beginning of a new day.
"I will find you, Luceid…" Clive whispered softly to himself as he walked away from the camp, off into the canyon by himself. Completely unarmed.
"I must find you… my love…"