Despite their erratic attacks, Clayton’s group was enough of a force to be reckoned with that they kept their attackers at bay far longer than the rest of their caravan.
At first, Mal didn’t understand why they weren’t being targeted by the portals, but then he realized there were tiny flashes of white that sparked to life around the children, but they were snuffed out over and over again by green and gold sparkles. Mal also saw a familiar mop of curls belonging to Merry and grinned when a burst of red shot from the girl’s hands, darted between Elena and Naerith, lifted two attackers into the air, and flung them backward. The resulting crunch of breaking bones as they bounced all the way down the hilltop was delicious.
The children were just as useful in a fight as their parents were. How interesting.
Beside Merry, Tommy clutched Baby Clayton in his arms and promised over and over to keep him safe. He stroked the toddler’s hair while smiling through the tears streaming down his face.
The air around Mal became superheated as he stewed in impotent rage.
“Hurts… hurts… hurts…”
“Good,” Mal snapped, eyes glued to the scene before him.
Two of the fae fell to their attackers as the poison consumed them and rendered their magic skills useless. Naerith and the remaining female held off the onslaught the best they could as Elena drew herself up, bloodied and covered in burns from her failed spell.
“We can’t hold them, my love,” she shouted to Naerith.
Naerith didn’t turn from the battle and shouted back, “We’ll hold as long as we need to.” It was all bravado, though. He was missing three fingers from his right hand, and there was a cut on his face that had gone to the bone.
Elena took in the scene with a grim expression, and Mal saw resolve form in her eyes. She crouched down in front of the children and said, “I’m sending you somewhere safe, my loves. The bad men won’t be able to find you, and I’ll come and get you when this is over, okay?”
“Wynwyn stay,” Baby Clayton said, struggling to get free from Tommy.
“Oh my precious boy…” Elena’s face was covered with tears, and she bit her lip. “You’ll see me again soon, I promise. Watch after each other until I come for you.” She kissed each child on the head, finishing with her son. “Mommy and Daddy love you, Carwyn. We’ll see you soon.”
Baby Clayton clearly didn’t understand what was happening, and he fought Tommy harder as he tried to reach his mother.
Magic formed between Elena’s hands as she chanted. The spell was quick and dirty, and Mal was only able to get the gist of what she was saying as she chanted. “Send them somewhere safe, Great Mother. Keep our babies safe.”
There was a blinding flash, and the scene switched to a murky forest filled with gnarled, ancient trees.
Mal recognized the flora and fauna and realized it was likely where Clayton had landed in England.
On the forest floor, protected from the pounding rain by trees, was a small, redheaded child lying on a bed of moss. Baby Clayton sniffled and cried softly for his mother and father, growing louder and more frantic as time went by, but it was nighttime, and the area was deserted. There was no one around to hear his cries.
Mal was out of his mind as he was forced to watch the toddler version of his lover cry himself hoarse for hours, first for his parents and then for Tommy and Merry, before falling into an exhausted sleep.
The air around Mal was in danger of becoming plasma, and the void cried over and over,“Hurts… hurts… hurts…”but Mal ignored it. It was good that it hurt. Everyone and everything should be hurting right now. Mal would rectify that as soon as he was free.
He was forced to watch as Clayton was found and rescued by a rich young woman with too much time on her hands. She took him home and watched over him with obsessive care. Clayton needed it, though, because he’d grown dangerously sick during his time in the forest. After he recovered, Clayton lost all memory of his life before meeting Sharon, his foster mother.
At first, Clayton’s life was relatively normal, but as time went on, he became an oddity among his peers. His luck grew worse and worse until it had gone from something amusing and endearing to something dangerously unstable to himself and everyone around him.
When his friend Samantha had offered Clayton a job at the Boston chapter house, it had been a godsend, because he’d been reduced to living life like a hermit because his mother hadstuffed him into a golden cage, too afraid of his death to allow him to live.
Leaving England had been an escape for Clayton. No matter how influential she was, Sharon couldn’t terrorize the Guard into full compliance in a different country. Her connections could only take her so far. Samantha had offered Clayton a place to work in relative safety due to the powerful magic of the chapter house, and Clayton had taken her up on it in an instant.
He went from a shy, awkward shut-in to a shy, awkward assistant to a powerful woman. Samantha encouraged Clayton to come out of his shell and experience the world, but Clayton’s unstable luck was a challenge even she was unable to mitigate fully.
It grew worse as Clayton aged, and by the time Mal had found Clayton, he knew that his lover had been living on borrowed time. All Clayton needed was an accident so large it killed him instantly, or to be a second too far from help after slicing open an artery—something Clayton did on a bi-weekly basis.
Through it all, Clayton bravely slogged his way past every challenge. He never gave up, never allowed his heart to grow bitter and broken. He always tried to take joy where he could and continued to find new things about the world to marvel at.
“Give him back to me,” Mal ordered. “Now.”
“Soon… soon… soon…”
Mal let out a growl and threw himself back into his chair, which was currently on fire from the heat of his rage. Mal could have made it fireproof, but it suited his mood, so he left it alone, other than to tell it not to burn to ashes. Mal still needed to sit in it, after all.
