by Cat Kalen
Hands folded on her lap, Nova’s gaze drops to the floor and there is real sadness on her face when she says, “Some didn’t make it.”
Logan closes his palm over hers. “And the others?”
“They fled.” Her eyes turn hopeful as they lock back on Logan. “Maybe they went to Richmond’s Village in the Jasper Mountains.”
Logan’s nod is slight, but his voice sounds unconvinced when he answers with, “Let’s hope so.”
Suddenly Nova’s words sink into my brain, and as I digest what she’s actually saying my pulse leaps. If there really are other compounds like this one, then it’s quite possible that someday we could reach one and all live normal lives.
Logan’s next question catches me off guard and my heart stills as I wait for an answer. “Why didn’t you go with them?”
I catch a moment of hesitation before she speaks.
“I couldn’t,” she hurries out, her voice rising an octave. “They had me trapped.”
Logan goes silent for a moment, and scrubs his hand over his chin. “Which brings me to my next question,” he says quietly. “Why did they let you live?”
She shifts unnaturally on the sofa and I can tell she’s uncomfortable and trying to hide it. Her eyes cast down in thought before she grips the hem of her sweater. With a quick tug, she pulls her shirt up to expose a deep purple scar near her hip. Collective gasps cut the silence because every shader in the den knows there is only one thing that can cause such an ugly wound.
A bullet.
“They shot me, and left me for dead. But lucky for me, the bullet only grazed my hip.”
There is cold calculation in her gaze, but from the captivated looks on everyone’s faces it’s clear I’m the only one who sees it. It does, however, have me thinking more about the PTF. From what I know about them, they rarely miss their mark and always verify their kills. So why didn’t they ensure she was dead?
When a tremble moves through her, Logan puts his arm around her shoulders. “Okay,” he says, soothing her in a soft tone. “It’s okay, Nova. Nothing is going to happen to you.”
She makes a tortured noise, and that’s when I see tears clinging to her dark lashes. “How… how do you know?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly.
Logan reacts to the fear in her and drags her closer. “Because you’re with me now. And as long as you’re with me, nothing is going to happen to you.”
With that, she blinks the water from her eyes and gives him a big smile. Even though I know Nova is in need of comfort, and Logan is her alpha, the animal in me doesn’t like the way he is empathizing with her. I fight down the tightness in my throat, grab a pillow, and plump it with my fists.
“There is something else,” she announces.
I sit up straighter, eager to hear what else she has to say.
“Before they left I heard one guy talking on his cell phone.” She pauses to give a shiver. “He said something about strays.”
Gem and I exchange a knowing look. Thanks to one stray, she managed to escape and make it to safety while the rest of her family was chased through the mountains. We know so very little about these strays, but one thing we do know is that they run purely on instinct and the human part of them lacks our sense of right and wrong. Which makes them a very dangerous enemy.
Then again, I can’t forget about the one who let Gem go. So maybe they aren’t all bloodthirsty monsters like we believe, and maybe if given the chance, they can be taught control and eventually live normal lives.
“And a few minutes later the men all took off,” Nova adds, pulling my thoughts back. “I think they were going after them.”
Logan gives a slow shake of his head, like he’s piecing together the chain of events.
She delivers her next words slowly, as if to emphasize the importance of them. “I also heard them talking about a place called Lewis Lake.”
Lewis Lake?
I search the recesses of my mind, trying to figure out why that name sounds so familiar to me. Was it a place where I’d once hunted a drug lord, or was it simply a location taught to me by Ms. Kara, the lady who educated the enslaved shaders?
I’m not sure. But what I do know is that there is something about Nova that I can’t quite put my finger on. I don’t know what it is or what she’s up to, if anything, but I definitely plan to find out.
Chapter Three
As rain begins to patter on the roof of the den, I inch my eyes open and glance around the tight confines of the cabin. I have no idea what time it is, but judging from the angle of the near full moon as it briefly cuts through a heavy cloud to peek into our only window, I’d hazard a guess that it is well past midnight.
The air around me grows heavy, suffocating, and after experiencing freedom in the mountains, my animal growls low, hating the claustrophobic feeling closing in on her.
Haunting memories of being held captive in my small cage come rushing back, and I quickly rise up from my crouched position on the hard floor. My body protests as I stretch my limbs and my joints pop and twist while I pad silently across the wooden slats.
My glance moves over Gem, Sandy, and Nova, who are all curled up on the mattress, to Logan and Stone who are both hunkered down and asleep near the door. I don’t miss the fact that the sofa is empty, my father nowhere to be found.
Even though I know I should be sleeping, I step over Stone and hear Logan mumble something. I stand still for a brief moment, then once I’m sure they’ve both settled back into a deep slumber, I pull on a pair of snow boots left by some previous tenant, twist the door open, and step outside.
The cool wind slaps my face, pulling me wide awake, and big, heavy raindrops spill over my body and plaster my long blonde curls to my head. I shiver as I blink a fat droplet from my eyelid and edge away from the den, not wanting to wake the others.
The heavy snow, now wet and slushy from the downpour, squishes beneath my oversize boots. Without conscious thought I wrap my arms around my body and hug my sweatshirt tight, all the while ignoring that it’s far from waterproof and the thick cotton is growing heavier by the minute.
Moving silently I walk to the edge of the cliff and glance down, taking note of the unnatural silence around me. Deep in the valley below the flames are all but gone, murky smoke polluting the air and obscuring the fire-ravaged village.
A branch cracks behind me, heralding someone’s approach. Using slow careful movements I turn around and brace myself, my eyes peering into the inky night as I breathe deep to drag in the intruder’s scent. That’s when I spot him. A tall shadow emerging from the dark forest. My father’s glance moves to mine, and he advances with purpose, the air around him awash with blood.
Fresh blood.
But it’s not the blood from any animal I’ve ever encountered. This blood is foul. Rancid.
Diseased.
A strange sound gurgles in the back of my father’s throat, and when he moves closer I nearly gag from the sickly odor that comes with him. I catch a streak of crimson trickling down his chin before he quickly swipes it away.
He puts his bloodied hands behind his back as if to obscure them from my vision, but it’s a failed attempt to hide them from my probing eyes.
“I take it you can’t sleep either,” he says.
Realizing he’s trying to redirect my thoughts, I look past his shoulders and search the ground. But when my glance comes up empty, no dead carcasses in the near vicinity, I ask, “Are you hunting?”
“Deer. But it got away.”
I give a dubious look and I’m about to press, but when he asks, “What now, Pride?” my brain shifts focus.
For a moment silence hangs heavy as I turn my attention back to the destroyed village. A long while later I break the quiet.
“I can’t stop thinking about what happened to Logan’s family.” As the fight for life and death plays out in my mind’s eye, cold shivers move through me, twisting and knotting me up inside. “What if they’re all…” My words fall off as g
uilt gnaws a hole in my gut.
“No one is blaming you,” he says, as if he can hear the internal struggle going on inside my head.
Surprised by his insight, I jab my thumb into my chest and fight back the urge to yell my next words. “I’m blaming me.”
“Why is it you think this is your fault, Pride? The PTF did what they’ve been trained to do. Seek and destroy.”
I spin to face him. “What they’ve been trained to do is wrong.” When he hesitates, and doesn’t jump in and agree with my convictions, I wave my hand toward the valley below, and this time there is nothing I can do to stop myself from shouting my response.
“What? You think this innocent family deserved to be burned from their homes, or worse, burned to death?”
“No. But not all shaders are good, Pride. Just like not all humans are. I suspect there is no way for the PTF to know the difference.”
My gaze darts to his, and since he opened the door to this conversation, I decide it’s time to grab hold of the knob and tear it clear off its hinges.
Holding no punches, and glaring at the man whose blood rushes through my veins, I say, “This insight comes from your own experiences, I presume.” Not only do I want to rip open the secrets between us, I want to toss them on the ground and stomp on them until they can no longer hurt me.
The truth is, when I made the decision to get to know my father, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Lessons learned have taught me that nothing in this life is ever easy. But in order to face my future, I know I have to understand where I came from. To do that I have to confront my past, no matter how dark it is or how much I might hate what I might discover. And right now, whether I like it or not, my traitorous father is the only connection I have to my heritage.
“Yes,” he says honestly, his voice deathly quiet. “I know this from experience.” He takes a small, tentative step toward me. “I’ve done things. Things I’m sorry for. Things I hope you’ll one day forgive me for.”
“You say you left the compound to protect us, so the master couldn’t use your empathy against us. Fine. But that didn’t stop you from harnessing other shaders and using them to do your killing.”
“I didn’t just leave that compound to protect you. I left so you’d never become like me.”
“And by ‘like you’ do you mean a traitor?”
“I got involved in things that weren’t easy to get out of.”
I press my palms to my temples. “Then, why now? Why, after all these years did you decide to come back? That’s the part I don’t understand.”
We exchange a long look, then he answers with, “Because it was time.”
Frustrated by his cryptic answer, I spit out, “What is that supposed to mean?” My feet stomp in the slush and I hug my damp sweater to my chilled skin. “That’s not even an answer.” As I pace to the jagged edge of the cliff, I listen to the rain gush down the mountain’s rock face and wonder what it is he’s still not telling me.
He steps up beside me and glances at the sky. His eyes are distant, like he’s remembering something from the past as rain soaks his face. “I never meant to hurt you or your mother.”
When I think about my mother, I gulp air, a tortured sound catching in my throat.
“I want the hurting to stop,” I say around the lump lodged in my esophagus. I wave my hand toward the valley below. “I want all of this to stop.”
We stay like that for a long time, both lost in our own thoughts, then my father finally breaks the quiet by saying, “I need you to remember one thing.”
I stare at him, and I wait for him to elaborate. Once again silence ticks on for an endless moment until I finally say, “I’m listening.”
“You can’t ever forget what’s in your nature, Pride. You can’t ever forget that sometimes you have to let your animal rule. It’s the only way we can preserve our species.”
I give a savage shake of my head, wanting to leave that part of my life behind me. “I’m not an assassin. Not anymore.”
“I’m not suggesting you are.”
“I just want to live a normal life. That’s why we all came here.”
“Look Pride, what I’m trying to say is that there are two sides of you. I know you want to live a normal life, that of a typical teenage girl, but you can’t ever forget the primal side of you. It’s what makes you who you are and it’s what keeps you alive.”
I think about that side of me, the brutal shader who killed on command. My stomach sours and I turn my back. “Not anymore.”
“Don’t be so sure. When the time comes, your animal will know a split second before you do what needs to be done. You need to listen to her.”
I spin back around and stare at him. When I realize what he’s suggesting, I ask, “Are you implying that I should kill all the PTF? Wouldn’t that simply confirm their theory that we’re monsters?”
“All I’m saying is that you have to know when to let the animal side rule and when to let the human side take control.” His eyes cloud with something that resembles remorse, and I wonder if that trace of regret is for things he’s lost or things he’s going to lose. “It’s important. For your future. And the future of our kind.”
While I don’t really know what he’s getting at, I do know that I’m not going to kill anyone. My hands are stained with enough blood as it is.
Exhausted, I turn back around, and when my glance lands on Logan, I stiffen, a gasp catching in my throat.
Exercising caution, he takes a step toward me. His face is drawn tight, his eyes feral. “You shouldn’t be out here.”
As he approaches, I take note of the quiet distrust in his eyes as he glares at my father—a reminder that my father once kept Logan caged in an underground prison. I understand the hatred and suspicion Logan feels toward the man who betrayed our trust, the trust of our kind, and in no way do I blame him for it.
While I chose to stand by my father, to get to know him, the choice wasn’t made because I trust him. I don’t. But everything in my gut tells me that he’s the key to my past, which is the key to my future, and that I have something very important to learn from him, something only a father can teach.
I don’t know what that something is, and it’s quite possible that I’m wrong, but I’m not about to miss out on an opportunity to learn. Knowledge isn’t only power, it’s the fundamental answer to surviving in this new world.
Unease moves over Logan’s face as he breathes deep, and I wonder if he’s catching traces of that same fetid odor that assaulted my senses earlier. A moment later something in the alpha’s expression changes, softens. He sucks in a sharp breath and it startles the nocturnal animals and sends them into hiding. Twigs snap and cut the silence as Logan and my father glare at one another.
“What?” I ask, my glance darting back and forth between the two.
Logan opens his mouth like he’s about to speak, then something passes between the two, some unspoken message, some level of understanding that leaves me confused.
When Logan closes his mouth, my father relaxes slightly and turns to me. “Get some sleep, Pride. Tomorrow night brings a full moon and we all need to be prepared.” With that he disappears inside the den, leaving Logan and me outside. Logan steps up to me, and his steady hands rake my wet hair back off my face as he assesses me.
“Are you okay?”
I want to ask what just happened between him and my father but when he uses the soft pad of his thumb to swipe the rain from my face my words lodge in my throat. His gentle touch combined with the deep concern in his eyes has my stomach clenching and my heart pounding hard against my ribcage.
“Come on,” he whispers. I don’t budge as he stands over me, looking so big, so strong. So male. A shiver of awareness awakens my animal and it’s all I can do to keep her leashed. “Your father is right. You need rest. We all do.”
I look past his shoulder, and when I think about going back inside the cabin I feel a moment of panic. “I don’t want to go back in there.�
� I stop and look skyward. “I want to be out here. It feels less…”
I pause, looking for the right word, but Logan comes to my rescue and says, “Confining.”
“Yeah,” I agree, thinking how well he can read me, even without a mental connection.
“Okay, come on.” He captures my hand in his and guides me to the den, where he uses the wooden overhang to keep the rain from reaching us. With my back pressed against the exterior wall, he inches toward me and his close proximity pulls a shiver from deep within. Feeling suddenly breathless, I lick a raindrop from my lip as my glance moves over his face.
His eyes drop to my mouth and for a minute I think he’s going to kiss me. Goose bumps break out on my flesh when he grips the hem of my drenched sweatshirt. I don’t miss the hunger in his touch when he rubs the wet material between his fingers. It’s that raw ache of need in his eyes that has me remembering the gentle way he once explored every inch of me, the intimate way he always cares for my body.
Intense blue eyes examine my face and he pushes against me, transferring warmth between our damp bodies.
“Take this off,” he says, his voice low, throaty as he pulls my sweater from my waist.
The soft pad of his thumb scrapes over my trembling skin and as his heat reaches out to me, his warm breath chases the chill from my body. My pulse pounds at the base of my neck and a deep primitive sound rises from the depths of my throat.
“Logan,” I manage to push past my lips.
He inches back and I immediately miss his heat. But when he begins to peel his raincoat from his shoulders, I realize he has mistaken my shiver for something else.
He clears his throat, his lips hovering close but never touching mine. “You’re soaked and you need to get out of these clothes and into something dry.”
My hand touches his face. “Logan,” I begin, not really sure what I’m going to say. Not really sure what I’m asking of him, or even if I have the right to ask it.
His big palm closes over my hand, his eyes searching mine, seeking answers. “Pride,” he says and I don’t miss the emotions clouding his stormy blues when he continues, “You know I love you. You know I’m going to fight to the death for you, don’t you?”