The Greyman Saga Ch 07

Author's note: This another short chapter, but dont worry: BIG THINGS ARE COMING.

Ps. please contine to comment, favoite and rate the story!:) I appreciate it grealty!

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Chapter 7

Straddling the Line Between:

I watched the road lazily, my hand resting on the top of the steering wheel as music played softly. It was approaching night time, but I had no intention of stopping any time soon. I was quite used to traveling in the dark. I glanced up at the mirror after a few seconds, stepping from the enjoyable silence to check on the Vermyr.

"You good if we just keep on?" I asked, watching Miramae lift her head from the window at the sound of my voice.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I don't mind." She said with a tired rasp, smiling ever so slightly.

I felt my whole body vibrate in response to the curve of her lifted lips. They looked impossibly soft.

**They are impossibly soft. It's not like you need to fantasize.**

I exhaled heavily, looking back at the road.

I was doing my best not to be grouchy again, but I did feel a small spasm of frustration ripple through my eyelid as I pushed away the intrusive thought.

**She's a Vermyr, Joran.**

I couldn't simply ignore her the way I did with others. My body LITERALLY longed for her. I had to recognize that, and then temper myself accordingly. Berating my own psyche wasn't going to do me any good.

"This is nice. The van, I mean. I like the hum."

"The hum?" I asked, curious what she meant.

"Mmhm. The feeling of the ground vibrating beneath us. It sends tremors through me, but really gently. That, and the air gets pushed around us so forcefully. It seems like it should be jarring, but it's not. It's so soothing. It's like being in the eye of a storm."

I groaned inwardly. Somehow she was making aerodynamics sound erotic.

"Never thought about it like that. I'm just glad it's not making you sick. A lot of people feel ill riding in a car for the first time."

She shook her head, smiling brightly.

"Uh-uh. I love it."

"That's good then. Means we can keep rolling."

She didn't respond, returning to her previous resting position. It reminded me of a movie scene, watching her stare with dreamy eyes out of the window. I forced my gaze down from the mirror, gripping the steering wheel firmly. The riveted texture felt comforting and stable as I pressed my palms against it.

"Can I ask you something?" Miramae asked quietly.

I kept my eyes fixed on the road.

"Sure."

Silence followed for a few seconds, but I refused to look up at the mirror.

"Why did you grab me? In the garage--you looked almost...I don't know. I wasn't expecting it."

I nodded. I had been wondering if she might ask about my knee-jerk reaction to her pulling her hair.

"It's a pretty simple thing. Early in my career as a Greymen I was at Damoria when another one of our members came back from a hunt gone sideways. He'd--" I stopped suddenly, strangely aware of how quickly I'd begun to tell her the story.

My eyes flickered briefly to the mirror again, meeting her own as they watched with obvious intrigue. I ran my tongue over my lips, feeling hesitant.

**What could it hurt?**

I let out a long and quiet sigh. It was going to be a long drive either way.

"Alt--he, the greyman, had been traveling with two others, neither of which had returned. He was unharmed, but he seemed off somehow. Crazed. The Elders let him go back to his quarters and I was told to let him have his space. Something along the lines of 'he needed time'. Naturally, I ignored the advice of my betters and went to check on him. When I got there, he was in the process of ripping the last bits of his hair out. Literally pulling the fucking skin from his scalp with his bare hands. I didn't manage to stop him until he had already started on his eyes."

I stared emptily at the road, remembering Altis's gore smeared locks lying around him, clinging stickily to his hands as he attempted to pluck his own eyeballs from his skull.

"Oh gods..."

"Yeah. We learned later that he and his comrades had found a Gremys Den. Things went...sideways. He had been forced to watch his friends be ripped apart and their corpses molested for nearly a week while he was locked in a cage below. They let him 'escape' afterwards, knowing he was probably going to kill himself or kill others in his ensuing psychotic break. That's how those little goblin fucks are."

"Did he?" The quiver in Miramae's voice was almost heartbreaking.

"No. No, thank God no. After he had recovered physically I took him back. Back to the Den with me that is. It was...hard. But, it was worth it. We killed the flock and saved a woman who had been made to watch her friends suffer a similar fate. It was a strange bit of luck..." I mulled over the memory with a small smile.

"Two people, bound by unspeakable horror found each other. They found purpose to live, if only to care for the other. To nurse each other's fractured hearts and minds back to sanity....They're married now."

My smile grew. Cecilia hadn't even been a Greyman so it had been even worse for her than it had been for Altis, but he had helped her return from the brink of collapse against all the odds. As far as I knew, they were still thriving.

"I'm glad."

I glanced up at the mirror at her. The Vermyr was still staring out the window, but I could see a single, silver tear running down her cheek. It made me want to stop the car and hold her in my arms, but I did no such thing.

I cleared my throat roughly and looked back towards the dark road. I thought about her original question again to distract myself.

"That was why, to answer your main question. I've let enough people try to pull the hair out of their own heads in my lifetime. That number might only be one, but one is enough. It was more of a reflex than a thought out thing."

I rolled my shoulders, feeling my back aching from the drive.

"You blame yourself?" Miramae's voice was wrought with disbelief, and something else I couldn't quite discern.

I shrugged.

"For what happened to him? No. For watching him in frozen terror like some frightened lamb while he irreparably harmed himself? Yes, absolutely."

"But you saved him--"

"He saved himself, and Cecilia. I just killed Dreads. It's what I'm good at, as I've said. And, If I had acted faster, he would have two functioning eyes to behold his wife with..." My words drifted into silence, heavy and regretful.

"How old were you?" She asked after a moment.

"Nineteen."

I wondered briefly whether the conversation would continue, but the small sob from behind me told me it would not.

I refused to let myself look back. I did not trust that I would be able to stop my body from trying to clamber over the seats to comfort the Dread. So, the next several minutes passed in tense silence as I focused on the drive.

Being a Greyman was hard. I believe I've mentioned so a few times.

It isn't just that it's dangerous. It can break you. Shatter you--and it can do so long before you ever set a foot out of the doors of Damoria.

Dreads hate us just as much as we hate them, and they get immense satisfaction from toying with everything from our bodies to our minds. Compared to most of the people I served with I was far from brave. They risked themselves in a way I couldn't comprehend, and they did it gladly at the prospect of saving others.

I was the Rottweiler the Elder's let loose when those good men had been subjected to more than they could handle, and I was fine with that. It was a role I was well equipped for. If I had my choice, none of them would ever have to leave the walls of Damoria, but that wasn't up to me. I was--

I paused my brooding, feeling my whole body tense as a gentle hand pressed against my right arm. A moment later, the Vermyr's soft hair pressed against my shoulder. I could feel her entire body shaking, but there were no further sounds to indicate that she was crying.

I waited with growing tension, prepared to pull the van to the side of the road at any moment, but she just remained lightly hugging my shoulder.

I felt my chest prickle with warmth. It took me longer than it should have to comprehend, but I realized she was trying to console me.

And, it was likely extremely painful for her.

"Miramae. I'm fine. You don't need to do this."

I said gently, running my free hand through

her dark hair against my better instincts.

It felt like silk. No, that wasn't even close. It felt like cool water, or strands of a summer breeze trickling through my fingers. The sensation made my whole arm quiver.

Despite my words she continued to stay, though her body has begun to shake almost violently at my caressing of her raven locks. I pulled my hand away, but I couldn't deny that having her pressed against me was filling me with a surprising level of serenity. It was likely severe levels of oxytocin at work.

"Tell me another story Joran. Something happier." She said in a soft murmur.

I nodded, glad for the distraction. Any reservations about speaking had apparently left me at the touch of her hand.

"When I was growing up, my mother used to like to make trees grow in my room. She would hang hammocks from them..." I spoke quietly, letting my words lull the Vermyr into a sleep as we drove.

They were silly stories. Stories I had never felt the need to share with anyone, but I could see the smile on Miramae's face as she clung to my arm, basking in each one. We spent the majority of the night's drive that way.

Eventually morning rose and I pulled the car into the lot of a Wal-Mart and turned off the engine, resting my head against the seat and letting my eyes close. Miramae was already asleep, but her arm was still laced in mine, and her head was now resting on my chest as I slipped into the gentle hands of rest. It was blissful.