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CHAPTER 1
RAFE
The body lay at the base of a maple tree in a crumpled heap of leathery gray flesh and black blood. Rafe studied it for a long time. Its fanged mouth hung open, eyes like black marbles gazing lifelessly at him, hands with hawk-like talons curled into loose fists in the grass. It was more than capable of killing a human — gods, it was probably capable of killing him. He turned away, forcing down the momentary surge of fear as he took in the scene, playing through the information he had.
Eamon, Lionel, Rose, and Tuomas had been hunting that morning, as Eamon had said they planned to do. Lionel was training a new bird. They were well armed. No one left the stronghold unarmed these days. Ghoul incursions were growing more frequent, and the filthy things were getting bolder by the day. Rafe had wanted to send an escort with them but let his lover talk him out of it. We'll be fine. We're barely going past the village.
But they weren't fine. Lionel's bird didn't return when it should have. The ghoul had crept up on them while they were distracted.
Signs of the struggle were obvious all around the body. Broken twigs, displaced leaves, mud spatters up the trunks of the trees. The humans had come out victorious. Three of them had, anyway.
Thirty or so feet beyond the ghoul's body, a cliff dropped into the sea. Ignoring his audience — the three humans who'd returned, as well as two of his rin retainers — Rafe walked past the ghoul's corpse, inspecting the grass between the site of the attack and the edge of the cliff. Clods of soil lay in heaps where massive claws had raked it up. He wished there was some indication of Eamon's movements, but the ghoul's weight and erratic assault covered all sign of his human lover. Blood spatters painted the grass black. Rafe didn't need to touch or taste the drying liquid to know it was not human. Not Eamon's. The rotten stench of ghoul blood was as foul as raw sewage and, for once, he envied the humans their inferior senses. Someone had hurt it, and badly, right here. Eamon was not a close-quarters fighter. He was barely a fighter at all. If Rafe were a gambler, he'd put his money on Lionel and the longsword he wore.
"You say he fell," Rafe stated. It wasn't a question. Rose had spoken for the group, told their story in a quavering voice. If the two men were hoping Rafe would show mercy to a teary-eyed woman and thus to them as well, they were all mistaken.
"Yes, Lord," Rose said. "Th-the ghoul tackled him, and they rolled, and ... I'm not certain, I mean I-I didn't see it myself, Lord, but ... Eamon was gone when ..."
Rafe walked to the very edge of the cliff and leaned forward to look down, grateful for an excuse to breathe air untainted by blood. The tension level behind him rose tangibly, but no one rushed forward to drag him back. He was their lord, not a child to be scolded for putting himself in danger. Hundreds of feet below, waves crashed and roared over a beach of jagged stone. Even with his sensitive rin hearing, little more than the faintest whisper reached Rafe's ears from this distance. There was no question that a fall from this height meant no survival for a human. No matter what awaited at the end of the fall, no matter how strong the human.
And yet ...
He had not felt Eamon die. Rafe had never had a bound companion die, so, he didn't know from experience what it would feel like, but he'd heard others speak of it. He'd expected something ... worse. He should have experienced fear as Eamon fell, pain as he crashed to the ground and his body shattered against the rocks below. It would have dropped him to his knees, put him in a state of shock.
Instead, there was a sharp surprise, fear, and then ... an absence. Eamon simply was not there. He wasn't alive, but neither was he dead.
"You are aware Eamon is bound to me?" Rafe turned to the humans, and they all bowed their heads, nodding and avoiding his eyes. "You should have protected him."
The wind off the sea howled and whipped his dark hair around his head. Everything was cast in a dusky gray — the winter sun had not shown its face for days, and the choppy sea below was the color of cold steel. Standing at least a head taller than the tallest of the three humans, Rafe was no stranger to intimidation tactics. It wasn't his preferred modus operandi — physical threats were so pedestrian — but it was easy, and with the gaping absence of Eamon distracting him, it was all he managed.
"I'm sure they did their best, my lord," Kiran, his retainer, said softly.
Rafe continued to aim a cold gaze at the humans.
"I'm sure. Have search parties organized. Comb the beach and the forest in this area. I did not feel him die." And if he was mistaken and Eamon wasdead ... The words hurt as they formed in his mind, but he forced them out. "If you find him, or his body, bring him home."
Kiran bowed his head and rushed toward the manor to find willing and able individuals to carry out the command. Wind continued to buffet Rafe's side and face, tangling his hair as it whipped around. In his imagination, Eamon was scolding him as he worked a brush through Rafe's hair as he did every night. Would it kill you to tie your hair back once in a while? It's like you tangle it on purpose.
If it weren't tangled, I wouldn't need you to brush it, would I? Rafe would reply and grin in the mirror at his lover. The thought of the familiar teasing almost made him smile. Almost.
"M-my lord," Tuomas ventured, stepping forward as Rafe returned to the ghoul's body. "We would like to join the search parties, if we may."
Rafe shook his head. "No. Take this body to the manor. Have it burned."
The three humans exchanged wide-eyed glances. The ghoul was larger than all three of them combined. Heavy as it was, it would take them hours to drag it to the manor. It seemed a mild punishment in Rafe's eyes, for letting his lover fall over a cliff.
Tuomas and Lionel were unbound and had been for as long as Rafe had known them. Rose was bound to Elena, the manor's doctor, and lived in the manor with her, while the two human men lived in the village outside the manor walls — together, if Rafe was not mistaken. Eamon had lived with Tuomas for some time, until he came to Rafe's attention, and still spent the night in Tuomas's village home on occasion. Perhaps it was cruel to punish the three of them in any way for what had happened. They were likely hurting as much as Rafe, but they were not bound to Eamon. They could not feel his absence, like the loss of a limb or an eye or an ear, like a crushing emptiness where, until mere hours ago, there had been a warm, bright presence every day for the past ten years.
"Stay with them," Rafe instructed his second retainer, Orienna. "See that we lose no one else to rogue ghouls today."
The woman bowed. "What of you, my lord?"
"I'm in a mood to rip something's throat out," he said coldly.
"Let the filth try."
CHAPTER 2
EAMON
After a brief drop, Eamon's body impacted stone, and all the air left his lungs in a startled grunt. He rolled gracelessly down a slope, every inch of his body hitting stone along the way, before coming to a stop in a tangled heap at the bottom. A groan eked out, and when he'd caught his breath, when the world was no longer spinning and black at the edges, he dragged himself to his knees and looked around.
One minute, he'd been wrestling with something intent on eating him, and the next minute, he found himself here. Rafe's manor had been built near the sea, and Eamon had lived in the area for most of his adult life. He was accustomed to salty air, thick grass, and a near-constant breeze.
This place could not be more different.
Eamon knelt in a pile of scree at the base of a rocky hill. When he twisted around, he saw nothing but stones and sand. Grayish-red rock stretched out to oblivion, all the way to where it met the orange sky at the horizon. A handful of dead-looking plants spotted the landscape, and above him, two white-hot suns shone. Two suns in an orange sky.
Two suns ...
"Oh gods." The words came out in a whimper as realization dawned. His heart rate picked up and sweat broke out across his skin. Twisting in place again, he searched in vain for a familiar landmark, for anything to point the way to home, anything to convince him this was not real or that everything would be okay. His gaze turned back up to the hill he'd fallen down, searching for the portal which must have formed to let him through, but it was gone.
This was the ghoul's world. Two suns flying in an orange sky, days like fire, nights like ice, ground of stone and air of sand — Rafe had always teased him for reading so many history books. No one travels like that anymore, he'd said when he caught Eamon in the library with a tome about the open times. No one but the king and his chosen few. And lately, unwelcome ghouls.
But the worlds still exist, Eamon had returned, picking his feet up off the chair across from him so his lover could join him. Don't you find it interesting? I wish such travel were still common. I would like to go to another world, just to say I'd done it.
This was not the one he would have chosen. This was where the ghouls came from. Those monstrosities had been showing up near Seacliff. Creatures with no respect for life, no understanding of human language. Beasts no better than the wild animals in the forest. Eaters of human flesh.
"Gods!" he said, his voice shamefully high-pitched. A sob caught in his chest, and he had to fight to breathe, dragging in gasps of parched air. Where was the ghoul that had brought him here?
Eamon got to his feet, stumbling on the uneven stony ground. His head spun as he rose, toppling him back to his knees, but he didn't stay down. He sucked in quick, shallow breaths and forced himself up again, cringing as the world darkened and a blade drove through his skull. He turned around in a full circle one way and then the other, but the stony expanse stretched far beyond him in every direction. The ghoul wasn't nearby. Perhaps it had thrown him through and gone after the others. It might return through any minute to ... to eat him. He patted himself down frantically, checking to be certain his bow had not broken in the struggle or fall, grasping the arrows in the quiver at his hip. Only five. He'd had at least a dozen this morning! Shit! Panic drove him through the scree, gasping in the dry air, losing precious moisture through sweat and tears.
He couldn't feel Rafe. Ever since they'd undergone the ritual of bondage, which entwined their lives and linked their every thought and emotion, Rafe had been a constant presence in his mind. But now, in another world, only silence shared his mind, and the realization brought him to his knees again, shaking and nauseous. He was alone.
Alone.
If he tried hard enough, he might trick himself into hearing his lover's voice in his mind, familiar from a hundred memories of breakdowns like this.
You're panicking, love. Rafe was always patient and calm in the face of Eamon's baseless terror. I'm here for you, Eamon. Despite all his better-than-human senses and abilities, Rafe was unable to vanquish this monster. He'd expressed frustration to Eamon more than once about his impotence in the face of Eamon's fear, and Eamon hated to put his lover through such pain. Even so, Rafe was always there, physically or mentally, if Eamon needed him.
Now, he was not.
It took a long time for Eamon's body and mind to settle enough for rational thought. The ghoul hadn't yet returned through the portal to finish him, which meant — he hoped — it was dead. Tuomas and Lionel and Rose must have killed it.
Even so, it didn't mean much for him. The ability to form rifts between worlds was rare. No one in Rafe's household or village was able to do it, which meant no rescue. He was trapped.
The suns were setting by the time Eamon had collected himself. He sipped from his waterskin, just enough to moisten his throat. He'd refilled it just after midday, so he had enough for a day if he was careful.
In this place, though, enough for a day or so might as well have been nothing.
In the distance, mountains stretched up into the orange sky. It was impossible to judge how far he stood from them, but they were the best hope he had. As the suns fell and the air cooled, Eamon got up and began to walk.
CHAPTER 3
EAMON
The landscape was, for the most part, level. Gentle slopes rose here and there, and occasionally, a rocky crag jutted up from the reddish foundation, but as Eamon walked all night, shivering in the starlit darkness, he found it an endless monotony of gravel and stone. A few times, a scraggly plant interrupted the rock, and he licked the dew off the narrow leaves to stretch his water supply, but he didn't encounter a single animal. In a way, it was a blessing. At least he didn't encounter a ghoul.
As day approached, he found an outcropping to press himself into, hoping for shade. The thought of sleeping in a world where humans were considered a delicacy was ludicrous. He'd been in this realm for over twelve hours, he guessed, and hadn't seen a sign of life beyond plants, but that didn't mean a ghoul couldn't pop out of the ether and land on his head the moment he dozed off. Why any creature, ghoul or not, would choose this wasteland as an arrival point, Eamon had no idea, but if one had done it, others might have reasons as well. Ghouls were hardier than delicate little humans, and travel between worlds was not well understood. There had been a time when it was commonplace — trade routes had existed between worlds dominated by ghouls and rin and humans and all sorts of others — but when humans tired of being on the menu, a sect of travelers sealed off the worlds, leaving many behind and taking the secrets of world travel with them.
Stripping off his cloak in an attempt to stay cool once the hot suns had risen, Eamon crammed himself back into the nook under his chosen crag and closed his eyes. If nothing else, his eyes would benefit from a rest from the ceaseless casting about for life, danger, help, food, or water he'd been doing all night.
As he lay on his side, the hard, uneven ground and sharp stones dug into his hip and arm. He shifted to push those away and only succeeded in moving onto others. The rock smelled like heat and dust, his cracked lips were sore, his throat burned, and worst of all, his stomach writhed in hunger. He had a bit of food, but after walking all night and getting no closer to the illusory mountains, Eamon thought it best to ration it carefully.
Exhaustion caught up to him before long, and he slept.
"My lord!"
Kiran, Rafe's most loyal retainer, threw open the door to the library. Eamon jerked awake at the sound and grumbled, but at a touch from Rafe, didn't bother to sit up. A nap with his head pillowed on his lover's thigh was not the most compromising position Kiran had ever caught them in.
"What is it, Kiran?" Rafe asked, his hand caressing Eamon's cheek as he rolled over to face their visitor. Eamon had always liked the rin and didn't mind his visit.
Kiran was panting, shoulders heaving and dark skin flushed as if he'd just run all the way from the village, or even beyond.
"A-a ghoul, my lord."
Rafe's body and mind tensed. The sharp edge echoed into his own consciousness, and Eamon sat up, fully awake now. Rafe let him rise, lifting the caressing hand off Eamon's face.
"Explain."
When Kiran had enough breath, he said, "I was in the village, my lord. Feeding. Dina wanted to walk, so we walked, and ... I saw it with my own eyes, my lord, at the edge of the cliff, climbing up over it. I came straight here to —"
It was a good thing Eamon had sat up because Rafe leaped to his feet and tossed aside the book he'd been reading. "It's there now? Within walking distance of the village?"
Kiran's gold eyes widened in horror when he realized his error.
"Show me," Rafe demanded, taking hold of his retainer's face in both hands.
Their eyes met, and Eamon knew his lover was seeing Kiran's memories. Kiran swayed, his mind out of his control, but maintained his footing.
When he'd gotten what he needed, Rafe planted a quick kiss on Kiran's forehead. Eamon was already getting to his feet to help support the other rin in the dizzying wake of having his mind read. Rafe left them with barely a word.
"Are you all right?" Eamon asked. Kiran nodded, pulling out of his hands to follow their lord. Eamon reached out along the bond he shared with Rafe and spoke into his lover's mind as he followed Kiran out of the library.
I'm coming with you.
No.
Yes.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Through the Tears"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Leigh M. Lorien.
Excerpted by permission of NineStar Press, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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