1 - Caomhnóir – Manny

 

 “It went well?”

 

Manny nodded. “Let us just say the Scriostóir is dead, but not happily so, mijn commandant.”

 

Sofietje arched one white eyebrow. “He’ll spend forever in eternal damnation? How unfortunate.” The tone of her voice gave lie to her words. “It is good to finally have you back, Manfred.”

 

“Thank you, mijn commandant,” he replied quietly.

 

“What is it?” she asked when he said nothing more. “Something troubles you.”

 

Manny smiled wryly. “You live up to your name, Sofietje. Another Scriostóir died when Cerdic did.”

 

“I would say excellent but I have the feeling you are betwixt and between about that.”

 

“He was a man of honor who died to save my life. If you had asked me before I met him I would have said it was impossible for a Scriostóir to have anything close to honor, but he did.”

 

Sofietje, who knew Manny perhaps even better than he did himself, asked in a kindly voice, “Did you love him?”

 

“A little I suppose, at the end. In another time and place, if we had been different men, I might have truly loved him.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she replied softly. “And what of your human lover?”

 

Manny glanced at her in surprise. “You know about him?”

 

“I suspected. I didn’t actually know until this moment. Now that your job is over are you thinking about continuing the relationship?”

 

“Of course I am thinking about it. I care for him and he cares for me. But as you were so careful to point out, he is human. I am not.” He paced across her office now, stopping in front of the night-darkened window to stare at his reflection. Finally turning back, he sighed. “Not human, and forever eighteen, so while I would like to be with him, how could it work? He’s already four years my senior, at least—“

 

“At least in appearances.” Sofietje smiled in compassion. “So, enjoy him while you can and then—disappear. There are many tasks I can give you, as always. You have been too long in this century as it is this time.”

 

 

28 - Scriostóir

 

 

The next few days were a flurry of activity. Manny knew he couldn’t just walk away from everything despite the fact that his job was over. He needed to know that the boys would be all right and, if it came down to it, find them good families to be placed with.

 

As it turned out, that wasn’t going to be necessary. Manny was shocked to find out that, against all reasonable expectations, Cerdic had made provisions for the boys. He had willed the house to Gebhard and Mr. Shadrick equally, with the proviso that they were to take care of any of them who were in residence at the time of his death until the boys reached eighteen.

 

What surprised Manny even more was the return of Hamlin. When the young man heard about Cerdic’s death he was on the next plane back to the city. He showed up at the front door and was immediately surrounded by the boys. Jakie refused to let go of his hand, as if, if he did, Hamlin would somehow vanish.

 

It wasn’t until several hours later the Manny got a chance to be alone with Hamlin.

 

“So, are you planning on sticking around now?” were the first words out of Hamlin’s mouth as he perched on the edge of what had been Godric’s bed just a few days before.

 

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Manny retorted from his seat on his own bed.

 

“I probably am. There’s nothing holding me in London now. It’s a great city, and I’ll miss it I suppose, but when it comes down to it this is home.”

 

“Meaning New York or here at the house specifically?”

 

“Both, I guess,” Hamlin replied with a smile. “Now, your turn. Staying or going?”

 

Manny dropped his gaze. “Going.”

 

“I see. I suppose I should have expected that.”

 

“It’s not by choice.” Manny looked over at him again. “There’s somewhere I have to be.”

 

“Family?”

 

Manny just nodded, because in some strange way he supposed that being a Caomhnóir made him part of a very unique kind of family, one whose purpose was to keep humans like Hamlin and the boys alive and safe.

 

Hamlin stared at him for a long minute before getting up. He crossed the room slowly to sit down beside Manny. “Will you come back again?”

 

“Yes,” Manny replied with a smile. “For you, when I can, I’ll be back as often as possible.”

 

“That’s all I ask, other than that someday, when you feel comfortable about it, you tell me exactly what is really going on with you.”

 

Wrapping his arms around Hamlin, Manny said softly, “I will, when the time is right.” And then he kissed his lover deeply, all his feelings for the man poured into it. And Hamlin returned it with equal fervor and love.

 

The End

 

 

27 - Scriostóir

 

Twenty-four hours after the battle, Manny had healed sufficiently to be able to finish what needed to be done. He packed his belongings and Godric’s, taking them out to the car. Then he returned to the cabin. In a storage room off the kitchen he found what he was looking for. Hefting the sealed can, he took it back to the main room. There, he opened it, pouring the liquid back and forth across the floor, ending at the fireplace, pouring the last dregs of fuel into it. Then he paused, looking around the room. His eyes lit on the tapestries and for one moment he considered taking them with him. Then, with a shake of his head, he turned back to the fireplace. Dropping to one knee, he lit the tinder beneath the logs.

 

Standing again, he bowed his head for a brief second and then strode quickly to the door. Closing it gently behind him, he walked to the car. As he started to drive away the first of the flames lit the cabin windows.

 

He waited until he reached the highway and then called the authorities, letting them know that he’d seen what appeared to be a fire and telling them where.

 

Two hours later he was parking the car at the house in the city. He walked into the living room by way of the terrace to find the boys huddled around the television watching some shoot ‘em up.

 

Jakie was the first to notice him standing there. “Where’s Rick and Mr. Wyndham,” he asked, trying to peer past Manny to see if they were coming in behind him.

 

“There’s something I have to tell you, but first I need everyone in here, so would you please go get Gebhard and Mr. Shadrick.”

 

Jakie nodded, and then raced off, returning minutes later with the two adults.

 

“What’s going on, Manny?” Gebhard wanted to know.

 

“There’s—there was a fire at the cabin. I—I was—I took a walk 'cause I couldn’t sleep and—hell.”

 

The boys listened in disbelief. “They’re dead?” one of them asked hesitantly.

 

Manny nodded. “I’m afraid so. I don’t—I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Jakie said, throwing his arms around Manny’s waist.

 

Gebhard looked as if he was about to say something and then changed his mind. “Boys, I think we should let Manny get to bed, in fact all of you should be heading that way.”

 

“I’m all right, sir,” Manny told him.

 

“Be that as it may, Mr. Shadrick and I will get them to bed and let them talk if they need to.” Gebhard looked somewhat uncomfortable; as if that wasn’t something he was sure how to handle. Mr. Shadrick took over, herding the boys out of the room.

 

Gebhard remained behind, asking, “Do you know how it started? And are you quite certain they’re dead?”

 

“I know they’re dead. The cabin was fully engulfed in flames when I got back and there was no sign of them outside. I—I don’t know why it happened.”

 

“Alright. We’ll talk more about it in the morning, and about what happens now that Mr. Wyndham is dead. Go get some sleep, if you can.”

 

“Yes, sir. Thank you for—“ Manny shrugged disconsolately.

 

“Nothing to thank me for,” Gebhard replied with a small smile. “I’ll see you when you get up.”

 

 

26 - Scriostóir

 

 

“Children,” Cerdic spat out as the battle raged. “Mere infants when it comes to dealing out death.”

 

At that moment it would have appeared that he was correct. Both Godric and Manny, despite fighting two on one against Cerdic, were getting the worst of it as Cerdic wheeled, dodged and came back at them, great sword pounding against their lesser weapons, his other one slashing through even the smallest opening that his foes left in their defenses.

 

Godric stumbled back, avoiding a potentially deadly blow by the merest of inches. At the same moment Manny swung his mace, intending to stave in Cerdic’s ribs, a move he’d tried before with minimal success.

 

Cerdic gave a sharp laugh as he nimbly dodged the mace again, slashing his shorter sword deeply into Manny’s thigh. Manny dropped to the floor, crossing sword and mace in a ‘V’ to catch the Cerdic’s next swing and twisting his weapons hard, to deflect the sword from his chest.

 

Godric took advantage of Cerdic’s momentary inattention to swoop in, his scramsaxe leaving a wide swath of blood streaming down Cerdic’s back. The elder Scriostóir bit back a cry of pain, turning it into a shout of rage as he sent one booted foot into the open wound in Manny’s thigh. Manny gasped, the blood draining from his face.

 

“One Caomhnóir down, one foe to go,” Cerdic almost chortled as he lifted the great sword and started it on a downward arc that would cleave Manny from throat to groin.

 

“Like hell,” Godric shouted, diving forward, delivering a vicious slash to Cerdic’s wrist with his scramsaxe.

 

With one practiced move, Cerdic switched his sword into his off-hand, spun, and brought it down with fearsome force on Godric’s shoulder. It split through it and continued down, severing spine and ribs.

 

Godric’s eyes widened in shock, his last word as he fell a growled, “Damn.”

 

As Cerdic shouted in triumph, Manny staggered to his knees. Fighting off impending darkness, he raised his mace, slamming it into the Scriostóir’s back. The sound of crushed bone filled the room as Cerdic arched momentarily and then dropped like a stone, his legs now useless bits of flesh and bone. 

 

Manny swung one more time, the mace entering the back of Cerdic’s skull. Leaving it where it landed, Manny crawled to the side of his fallen comrade. Taking his dagger from its sheath, praying that there was still one small glimmer of life in him, Manny plunged it into Godric’s heart, as he said the ritual words that would free him forever.

 

Then, angrily, he turned to Cerdic, seeing the last bit of life draining from his eyes. “You murdered one of your own,” he told him. “One who, by rights and the purity deep in his heart, should have been one of mine. For this you will die, but not be freed.” Holding the dagger’s blade over the Scriostóir’s heart, he slowly pressed down. Then, that part of the ritual completed, he pulled it free and sheathed it again without another word spoken.

25 - Scriostóir

 

‘Stay calm,’ Cerdic admonished himself as he leaned against the back of the bench in the main room. He found that doubly hard to do however as he watched Godric trying to work his wiles on Manny. Thankfully Manny still seemed to be resisting. Cerdic hoped that soon he’d tire of the games and go to his room for the night. Then Cerdic would be able to destroy Godric without Manny being any the wiser. In the morning he would tell Manny that he had sent ‘Rick’ back to the city on an errand. Later, when he and Manny returned themselves, he would come up with some excuse why ‘Rick’ was no longer around.

 

He scowled when Godric casually put one arm around Manny’s shoulder and whispered something to him as the two boys watched the end of whatever show was on the television. Manny shook his head, but didn’t pull away and Cerdic’s scowl deepened.

 

Minutes later, Manny suddenly jumped to his feet. “Enough is enough,” he said angrily. “I thought you were just kidding around.”

 

Godric was standing seconds later. “I don’t ‘kid around’ about something like this. I’ve grown more than fond of you since we met. I want you to feel the same about me. Damn it, Manny, at least give me a chance!” He gripped Manny’s arm to keep him from walking away, apparently not caring the Cerdic was watching their every movement.

 

Manny appeared oblivious to Cerdic’s presence as he struggled to get free of Godric. “I’m not like that,” he said angrily. “I’m not some fucking faggot like you.”

 

“Then why did you lead me on to believe that you were interested?” Godric retorted angrily, tightening his grip.

 

“Both of you, stop this now!” Cerdic roared at he crossed the room. “Rick, release him now! Manny go upstairs. I’ll deal with him.”

 

Godric dropped his hand from Manny’s arm, staring hard at Cerdic. “How do you intend on dealing with me, sir,” he sneered, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.

 

Without answering Godric, although his eyes never left him, Cerdic again ordered Manny to leave the room and go upstairs to his room.

 

“Oh I think not,” Manny said under his breath as his weapons materialized, a hand-and-a-half sword in one hand, and a flanged mace in the other.

 

At the same moment Godric’s also appeared. He held both a scramsaxe and sword with a wide, double-edged blade. His face was grave as he said, “You can surrender and face your death honorably and I’ll make certain that it is indeed a final death, not one that puts you into the eternal torment that you so richly deserve.”

 

Cerdic’s lips curled up in contempt. “Boy, do you truly believe that you can defeat me?” While he spoke weapons materialized in his hands as well, one great sword that he held as if it weighed nothing, and a shorter one of the same type as Godric’s.

 

“We can,” Manny replied, stepping into Cerdic’s view.

 

“Well now, this is unexpected. Scriostóir or Caomhnóir?”

 

“Caomhnóir,” Manny answered even as he made the opening lung of the battle.