Frayed Page 7

  Chapter Eleven

  Night fell by the time my dilapidated Mustang pulled into Lucy’s driveway. Sitting in the car for a minute, staring up into dark windows, even the mood of the yellow shutters had degraded from sunshine to sallow.

  There was no malevolent smell, only fresh blooms and the heat of the day clinging to the veil of darkness, a child unwilling to turn in for the night. My eyes transitioned to kitty sight with ease.

  Listening to the gravel crunch underfoot, I debated walking in the house or past it. When a figure emerging from the woods, a hiss escaped my throat. A stark white young man stood ten feet away in ripped jeans and an old shirt bearing an indiscernible logo.

  Shadowshifter.

  "Hope I didn’t startle you," said the voice that saved my life in the woods.

  "You!"

  "Shane," he offered with a smile. When I didn’t run screaming, he took it as a sign to advance. "I was really relieved to hear you were—err, are—recovering well. I’ve never witnessed anything so malicious." He sounded unsure, like the nerd trying to talk to the cool girl, only I wasn’t picking up on any ‘feelings’ other than pure nervousness.

  "Yeah, apparently I turned psychopathically kooky for a day. Wish I could have been there." After a beat, staring into his mesmeric red eyes, I confessed, "That’s a lie. It sounds like it was a goddamn nightmare." He just smiled, but it was the fallback look that people give when they’re trying to sympathize and can’t think of an appropriate response. "Why were you and the other ‘shadows’ in the woods, anyway?"

  "We’re always in the woods. Not always here, but somewhere." Shane’s hair was short, and it never moved. His shoulders were almost broad, and the closer he stood, the rosier his complexion, like a pink reservoir trapped under the natural winter of his skin. It was the total opposite of Blaire’s bronzed landscape, but somehow just as captivating.

  "Do you live in the woods?"

  He laughed again. "No, but it has the best shade no matter the time of day. We can’t shift if our environment is too bright." The way he explained it prompted a mental image of little pale lizards scurrying in the shadows of an amphibious habitat.

  "How did you know to take me to Blaire?"

  Able to look modest, Shane noted, "We pay attention to all the shifters in our area, even if they don’t. And," he took his hand out of his pocket, "we have cellphones. We’re not cavemen." After showing me his cell, he put it away. The side of his mouth curled when he added, "But sometimes I have a hard time finding somewhere to plug it in."

  I apologized. He did save my life, and in return, I envisioned him like a caged lizard living like a caveman. However, he seemingly held no ill will as he offered up valuable information.

  "As far as we can tell, they set up multiple snares to the east and south of the property, a nasty looking bear trap on the west, and an-"

  "Blaire mentioned your cooperation. Why?"

  "Why should you trust us, you mean?" I didn’t correct his assumption or try to apologize. "Have we given you a reason not to?"

  It was my turn to laugh. "Blind trust gets people killed. The way I see it, these Dissenter bastards followed Rush Stevens here, but someone’s been tipping them off. Someone in our community is helping them."

  Unfazed by my accusations, Shane shrugged, "I’m not surprised."

  "Really?"

  "If you’re not a lion, why give a shit about a lion? If you’re not a leopard, why give a shit about a leopard? If you’re not a ‘were’, why not spit on them? If you’re not a shadow… Well, we know where we stand."

  He was beginning to piss me off. "Where do you stand, Shane?"

  "In the dark."

  Frustration twisted into a low growl. I kicked a pile of gravel in no particular direction, and a second figure stepped from the darkness. This one, I knew.

  "Where the fuck have you been?" I yelled.

  Nash stopped walking, the pleasantry wiped from his expression. "Is this a bad time?"

  "The opposite, actually." I stalked him until we were face to face, my stance less than friendly. "Where were you?" He knew I was referring to the other night.

  "Lucy and I were lured away, made to believe we were closing in on them. Once we realized their trickery, there was no time to return to Lucy’s cabin. We sought shelter for the day."

  "Lured or a willing participant?"

  His fangs descended faster than a rattlesnake striking. "It would be a mistake to turn on me."

  I lunged, but Shane stepped between us. Shifters are stronger than average humans, but only shadowshifters have unnatural strength rivaling vampires. That’s why my lepe relied more on learned defenses and natural senses.

  Even in the blaze of anger, Nash had the courtesy to step back, giving Shane and I space to grapple. Finally, I reached past him, pointing a steady finger at Nash. "If you’ve had anything to do with this, I’ll slice you into pieces with my claws. I’ll save your eyes for last so you can watch every fucking piece burn."

  "I heard you know what that feels like now." I was about to lunge again until he added, "And I had nothing to do with that."

  "How do I know that?"

  Nash stepped forward in a blur, shedding his calm demeanor. "Because mortal affairs are no longer my concern! As you have ungraciously been unable to overlook," he hit his chest with open palms, "I’m dead, Fray. What befalls your lepe, or any beating heart, is-"

  "Below your undead purpose?"

  "I was going to say out of my realm."

  "You’re not gods." I was close to yelling.

  "Are we supposed to be? If a nail in the supernatural world needs repair, it’s our doorstep you come to for a hammer. Ours you come to for answers and assassins."

  Damn it, he was right. With the gust blown out of my sails, Shane stepped aside.

  "What are we to you, Nash? Are we just wildflowers cluttering your way?"

  He shrugged. "Mostly."

  "Then why are you here, our willing assassin?" The pitch of my voice dropped. "I need to know why."

  Not just for the sake of suspicion. I needed to understand why this vampire, whose mere presence trivialized my existence, answered his door, hammer in hand.

  "I like what I am," Nash offered unapologetically. "But I like to be reminded that I was once something different. And whether my heart beats or not, I’ve never been one to pass by a good fight."

  "So donate your efforts to baby seals and orphaned orangutans."

  "They have something far more imposing than vampires. They have PETA. So I offer my services to the temperamental shifters of the Ararat River." Nash smiled. Shane chuckled. God help me, the sides of my mouth twitched. I blamed it on stress.

  When the joke ran out, I shook my head, accepting his help. Soberly, I said, "Then call for backup."

  "Menendez?"

  Nodding once, I turned to Shane. "Can you track me without being seen?" He gave me a "no shit" look. "Good. Nash, be a sport and call Blaire, too."

  "Is your phone broken?"

  "No." I bent down and removed my shoes. On my way up, I added, "But I’m about to be pretty busy."

  "Doing what?"

  My sense of urgency appealed to Nash. There was almost color in his cheeks.

  "Getting caught."

  I took off running through the woods, headed north.

  Chapter Twelve

  Shane was a strange blurb beside me, a distorted silhouette doppelganger matching my haste pace for pace. The trees flashed by so fast they could only impress on my sight green and brown strokes, way-be-gone elements of an oil painting. Rocks, twigs, and brush convoluted the destructive path. Yet my bare feet shifted instinctively to grasp the right footing and avoid hazards.

  If I had traveled through the field instead of the cloak of branches, I would be too exposed, and Shane, unable to blend well in the open space and tall grass, might lose me.

  I knew I was growing close when the faint stench—that stench—waltzed into my life for a second dance. I sto
pped running and fought the urge to puke on a grouping of hostas. Bewildered by my own actions, I didn’t answer Shane, who was nothing more than a shadow, when he asked if I was okay. Honestly, I wasn’t fucking sure.

  "Are you up to this?"

  Before "Yes" passed my lips, I growled and snapped the air between us, expressing my displeasure at being second-guessed.

  "I know what you’re planning. Will you have the strength to shift or are the herbs still too thick in your system to allow it?"

  He wasn’t pointing out anything I hadn’t already thought of. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if the herbal effects were passed, but no matter my fate, it would inevitably lead to the children. And to the bastards that needed their throats ripped out.

  "I’ll shift." Not quite a lie. And I didn’t give a shit if it was.

  Shane sounded skeptical when he whispered, "Right," but left the bulk of his reservations unspoken. He was a pure outline of his clothed human form. Apparently, shadowshifters can alter material touching their skin as long as it’s made from natural fibers.

  Realizing I was in the right area bordering the field, I said, "They came through here."

  "How do you know?"

  I searched the tree limbs and brush. "One of them had something reflective. I saw it before…" Shit! I still couldn’t say it out loud or even admit silently to myself that I was affected by the death of a vampire.

  Shane filled the void, either picking up on my squeamishness or not wanting to relive it, himself. "One of our shadows found a necklace in this area, snagged on a limb. The clasp was broken." A hefty pendant manifested out of Shane.

  Silver cat's claw.

  "Motherfucker!"

  I grabbed Conrad’s pendant and ran. In a matter of seconds, a net catapulted through the air, ensnaring me. Branches sped past on my way up, whipping my limbs and torso. It wasn’t until I hit that weightless plateau, the one that warns, 'What must go up must come down,' that I foresaw the fall over the embankment. There was no time to calculate the high speed at which I plummeted. That was probably for the better since it already hit the top of the ‘Oh fuck!’ meter.

  Without the use of my arms or legs, which were wrapped close to my body by the net, I bounced off boulders, slid across discarded tree bark, flipped through briers, and landed hard in a shallow ravine. Quick and messy.

  A noise accompanied my fall. I thought it was just the sound of solid weight hitting an equally solid surface. After I tried to move, however, it was clear that it had been the crunching of my bones. My left arm and right leg, regretfully.

  Between the lightning strikes of pain and dizziness, Shane whispered, "I tried to tell you there was a heinous threat to the north. Quick, change. Heal before they find you."

  Through gritted teeth, I explained, "They won’t take me unless I appear weaker than them."

  "Oh. You’re doing a good job, then."

  I searched the Shane cloud and, settling where I thought his eyes were, ordered, "Get away from me."

  Further discussion averted, he blended into the real shadows.

  It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes before the assholes came to collect, but in that span I found myself reconsidering if I had the energy to shift at all. And when they bagged and hoisted me like a prized deer on a hell-ride by foot, jarring every bit of broken me, the weak act was no longer an act. I had lost the upper hand in the situation.

  The blistering pain lessened when they dumped me out onto a floor so warped and tilted I wondered if we were in a funhouse. Arching my head to peer behind us, I saw nothing but splintered boards exposing, to my horror, water.

  Something stirred in one of the corners of solid floor, but two of the Dissenters moved to stand in front of it.

  In the dimly lit shack, I memorized everything about their appearance—singular—because there was no individualism. All wore black Renaissance blouses with brown leather lacing, black muslin pants tucked into shin-level brown leather boots with wraparound lacing and gold buckles, and long hair pulled into tight bands at the base of their necks. Not the pilgrims I had imagined in my head. Not by a long shot.

  They circled, sniffing the air like hyenas playing with a meal. And when they got really close, I couldn’t look away from the black saucers of their eyes. No whites, no color, no distinct pupils. Just infinite darkness stared back, and it scared the fuck out of me.

  A creaky door swung open, framing a fifth figure. Only, this one talked.

  "I wondered how long our traps would lay empty. It pleased me to discover you were the prize. I detest loose ends."

  Trying to swallow the pain, I looked up at the tall psychopath, countering, "And I detest boy bands with cult fetishes. Give me a reason not to kill you."

  Kneeling down, he grinned. "Give me a reason to spare you." His voice vibrated with some pent-up force as he emphasized 'you.' Still tangled, I couldn’t move away as he stretched across my body, too close for comfort. His chin navigated a path from my bellybutton to my chin. Our lips almost touched as he whispered, "It's a shame when I have to kill my own kind."

  "You’re not my kind." Embracing anger instead of panic, I narrowed my eyes, nostrils flaring. "You prey on children," I accused.

  Laughing, he shook his head. "No, no, no, we experiment on children. We would never eat them." The others scoffed like I was an idiot.

  "But you would kill them. You do. Kill them."

  The lunatic snapped his teeth a centimeter from my face. He smelled like dog. Maybe wolf.

  "We give them a sympathetic end to a damned fate."

  "You’re not their judge!" I was incensed.

  "In here," he looked around, "I am. Every species earns a spotlight in the zoo. As well as on the dissection table."

  "Do whatever you want to me. It better be worth it, though." I stretched my neck until the tips of our eyelashes rubbed, facing that alien gaze. "Because I plan to spit on your carcass before sunrise."

  "Consider it a date."

  With shifter force, he stood and threw me in the air. I braced for a rough landing but gasped when my weight created a huge splash. The icy water consumed all that was left of me.

  As I sunk, watching the light shrink until it was the size of a pen point, a second shape ruffled the liquid. I fought the mounting pressure of panic pulsing behind my skull. Even if I wasn’t in a net, I couldn’t swim to help the figure. Or myself. I had never liked the water. Not because I'm leopard. Plenty lepe enjoyed lazy days at the river.

  Fidgeting in the claustrophobic net, the necessity of fresh air burned through my lungs and convulsed my chest. The urge to inhale dominated my thoughts until they became a steady stream of mayhem.

  I need to breathe to escape why didn’t I learn how to swim why didn’t I call my mom today I need air freedom don’t panic change break the net are they coming to help us?

  Of course, damn it! I needed to shift. If I could just focus and stop being a pansy ass, I would live. At least long enough to run outside and possibly die there instead of here.

  Embracing that calm energy, I burst into fur, savoring a moment of miraculous healing before shredding the ropes and flailing to the surface. Even unfettered, bulky paws splashed and it made it difficult to keep the water out of my muzzle. I swung for the edge of a board but missed by a few feet. Slipping under, gulping too much water, I shifted back. In human form, I had a chance at reaching one of those boards and escaping before I drowned. I couldn’t drown.

  I had a date to keep.

  Just as I sputtered close to the surface a second time, something close shifted in the water. It moved toward me. Instinctively growing still, I focused on the figure as it floated high enough underwater to be illuminated. Barely. And what I saw made me scream: fur, rows of oversized, gangly teeth, and elongated fingers that ended in pointy claws. The water created a levitating quality.

  Bubble after bubble surged to the surface, robbing my lungs of the precious oxygen I had left. Scrambling backward, the monstrous thing awake
ned and realized, to my dismal fate, that it was hungry. Claws slashed out in slow motion. I struggled to break the surface, though it was continuously just out of reach. But when air brushed past my fingertips, a ghostly face greeted me.

  Lucy splashed into the deadly scene and wrestled the hairy thing into the darkest recesses until there was no sight of them. A hand reached in and pulled me to the surface. Choking on stagnant water and debris, I wretched on all fours, inhaling whenever possible. Simultaneously, Nash checked my vitals as efficiently as a nurse.

  When it was possible to speak, I blurted, "Wait, Lucy’s dead! She blew up."

  "No." He unbuttoned his shirt and handed it to me. I took it without reserve. "Her roommate blew up. Candace was supposed to be out of town. Lucy didn’t realize they took her until word arrived of her death."

  Buttoning the brown bowling shirt, I was stunned when I muttered, "So Lucy’s alive? Well, do you think she might not be now? What the fuck is down there?"

  He peered over the edge, unflustered. "Her boyfriend. I’m sure she can manage."

  "That’s Rush Stevens?"

  A second later, Lucy and her waterlogged animal-turned-human surged onto the boards beside us. Her left cheek was already healing a gnarly gash, and Rush reached up to cradle it in his hand.

  "I’m so sorry."

  "Don’t be." Her words dripped with sincerity. "You’re alive."

  He pulled her in for a long, gentle kiss. Rush’s skin was pale from keeping Lucy’s dark hours, and her smile hardened from keeping his dark secrets. Yet, together, their souls beamed. And I think I saw a flash of Jane peak through.

  When they parted, he sat up and looked at me. "Sorry I tried to eat you."

  I shrugged. "It’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me today."

  Nash opened the door and scanned the yard. "Leave. Take him back the way we came."

  Lucy nodded.

  Before they snuck out, Rush offered, "Some of the kids are in the tool shed next door. I don’t know where the rest are." He was limping, and his body was covered in revisited memories.

  "Did anyone come with you?" Nash recounted my list. All there. "Good," I breathed. "Where are we?"