Page 38 of Polar Fates
The old man is sitting on the floor, propped up against a wall. His expression is empty, his eyes vacant. He’s breathing but he doesn’t seem to be aware of what’s happening aroundhim.
“Is that Van Deen?” I ask, causing everyone to turn around. The Fates have joined my men and the room feels quitecramped.
“Are you okay?” Húnn asks and gives me a quickhug.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine, but what’s going on with him?” I askimpatiently.
As much as I would like to stay in Húnn’s arms, there are more important things to deal withfirst.
“Meet Arcas,” Ràn saysquietly.
“Wait,what?”
“Van Deen is dead. He died about a month ago,” Torben explains, keeping a wary eye on theman.
Atropos looks angry. “We never knew because his thread was severed. I would have relished in cutting itotherwise.”
I’m having trouble catching on. “So if he’s dead, who isthat?”
Torben grimaces. “Van Deen’s body. But please don’t call him a zombie, that’s…unpleasant.”
Where is Arcas?Alis demands in my head, increasing myheadache.
Shush, we’re getting to that, I tellher.
“So what’s happened to Arcas?” I ask, vocalising my bear spirit’squestion.
For once, she doesn’t even protest at me calling her aspirit.
“He’s still in there, trapped in Van Deen’s body. We need Alis to see if she can talk to him. We’re not managingto.”
“So how do you know he’sthere?”
Ràn taps his nose. “His scent is similar tohers.”
I approach the man hesitantly. I have a bad feeling about this somehow. As ill and helpless as he looks, it’s all a bit too easy. We walked into that station, got him out, and all that with minimal injuries. Now he’s here and they’re saying that Van Deen is dead, so we don’t even have to make a decision whether to killhim.
That can’t be it, surely? Life is never thiseasy.
Touch him, Alis tells me and reluctantly, I go on my knees by his side and put a hand on his shoulder. Even with my human nose his smell is pungent, like he hasn’t washed in months. And not changed his clothes either, from looking at the dirty rags he’swearing.
How did a man like that control all those feral shifters? It certainly looked like they were under the command of someone who told them to first stalk and then attack us. They seemed too wild to make coordinated decisions like that forthemselves.
“What now?” I ask aloud but it’s mainly meant forAlis.
Now I talk to him. Bequiet.
I bite back a response and let her do her thing. I have to remember that she’s worried about her son. I can’t treat her like I normally would, or at least I can’t expect her to behave in her usual way. We’ve worked on her being more polite, but right now, that’s allforgotten.
Arcas? she asks softly. Her voice echoes in my head; whatever she’s doing is different from our usual mentalcommunication.
Hello, mother,a deep voice reverberates in my mind. That must beArcas.
I wish I could give them some privacy, but I am too curious, and I couldn’t tune out anyway. Not in this new way the two are talking to eachother.
I see you’ve found yourself a new host,he says and somehow I begin to dislike him. Which isn’t right. He’s Alis’s son. I should likehim.
Arcas! Alis is almost sobbing, her voice full of emotion. There’s a pause and I know that she’s trying to figure out what to say. I totally feel for her. She’s not spoken to her son in… centuries? Millenia? She even thought he was dead. Now he’s here but somehow, he alsoisn’t.
