Dreams & Nightmares
Chapter 11
Rating: R
Disclaimer: There is nothing here belonging to me. Except perhaps Dr. French.
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Armon returned some hours past midday, far calmer than when last he was seen, though he did not show his usual smile and seemed in no mood to talk. He merely walked past the archer with nary a glance or word and sat sullenly on the slab of cold stone that served as a sofa.
Jakal had no idea where the big warrior had been these past hours but he was certain he would receive little answer should he ask. Anger still swathed around the warrior's form like a cloak.
Much as the hunter wished otherwise, he could not stay to talk to the understandably upset man. It was getting late and he needed to retrieve both the jetcycle and Dr. French. There was little desire in him to perform either task when he simply wanted to remain here in case Nefertina woke and needed someone.
He wanted to protect her, protect her as he had been unable last night. That task would be impossible if he left.
Yet he must bring the doctor, for she was likely the only one whom the charioteer would allow to examine and heal her.
"Armon," he began, setting himself to the undertaking, "I must bring the jetcycle back… it shouldn't take more than an hour and Dr. French will be with me." He looked to the red and gold coffin, something he was afraid to identify settling in his mind. "If she wakes before I'm back… keep her safe?"
"You know you don't have to ask," the large man stated quietly.
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The red motorcycle was unmoved from the place it was left last night, still sitting atop the lonely ocean-side cliff. He was glad for it, the thought having gone through his mind some hours earlier that it could have easily been stolen or blown over and off the cliff-side by the wind that even now still howled.
He wiped the rain from the seat as best he could with already sodden bandages and hoped the engine was not flooded. If it was, cranking the machine would be futile and he would be forced to leave it here once again as it was far too heavy for him to fly with anywhere. It would also mean flying Dr. French to the sphinx and the old woman hated heights.
A sigh of relief was breathed when the jetcycle started up easily. Driving off, he realized the cold rain that had been falling incessantly since morning was slackening to a mild drizzle.
Though he could still smell fresh rain, the worst of it was out to sea and moving inland only slowly. With any luck, he and the doctor would be safely at the sphinx before it came.
It had occurred to him while flying that the old doctor may not appreciate being picked up on the back of a motorcycle in the pouring rain. The last time something similar happened, Rath's hat ended up crushed onto his head from the wallop he received with that huge purse she carried.
The memory of it still brought a smile to his face even so many months later. He wondered if she perhaps hit him with the bag for expecting her to ride what she dubbed an 'infernal contraption.'
At least it stopped raining, he thought.
As it turned out, she did not hit him. She did however- upon opening her front door dressed in a dark brown overcoat and plastic rain hood- ask if he was joking.
"It's pouring with rain," she groused even while handing over a heavy black doctor's bag in order to close and lock the door, "and that thing is dangerous enough without adding wet streets to the mix." He hid his smile, trailing behind her grumbling figure as she strode for the glistening motorcycle.
By the time they reached the sphinx, a chill drizzle was once more falling and Jakal felt fairly certain his ribs were bruised. It would seem that Dr. French hated the jetcycle as much as she did flying, and for an old woman she proved to possess a vice-like grip.
It did not help matters that the handle of her bag was digging uncomfortably into his lower back. For a time, it felt a never-ending journey until the dark form of his home rose up against the gathering twilight. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight.
Quiet settled over the chambers the two of them walked through, the only sound he was aware of besides their own feet and breathing, were difficult to place. He could identify the sounds of Rath and Nefertina's voices, but not what they were saying. Armon's deep rumble entered in only rarely.
She's awake, he though, equal parts happiness and anxiety warring for dominance in his mind and heart. While it pleased him mightily that she was out of bed, he had no way of knowing what state she was in.
Was she all right? Had she left her bed of her own volition or did nightmare's cruel fingers drive her from it?
It took all his willpower not to leave the slow moving doctor and rush ahead into the sitting room. His desire to see her was strong and while the strength of that desire was surprising, he no longer shunned it as he might have once. Nevertheless, he was not about to rush into it either, not until Nefertina was healed and he had some idea where she stood on the matter.
All thoughts fled from him, however, when he and Dr. French rounded the last corner that would take them into the sphinx's main room.
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End chapter 11
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