by Ellie Cypher
A loud clatter came from the hall behind us. I went tight as steel. Holding my breath, fighting down the sudden urge to panic. Which only made my lungs push harder, louder, desperate pulling at my sides till the thinness of my bones ached something fierce.
Exhaling, I uncurled my hands from round my sister and tried to stand. Only my foot caught. Something hard went scattering loud cross the floor. I froze. Listening. Waiting. But no one came to see.
Right. We needed to move. With new urgency, I gave Bren’s shoulders a gentle shake. And in merciful reply, her eyes stirred. She took a swallow. Hand flexing, she opened her eyes.
“I told ya so, Jorie.” Slow, a smile formed at the edge of her lips, eyes worryingly unfocused.
“Brenna.” I exhaled her name and tilted my head down to hers till our foreheads pressed together. She smelled of pine and honeyed sweat and all things good. I let the familiar scent fill my lungs. She smelled of Ma and home. Of the only things worth fightin for in this ice-ravaged world.
It can’t be that bad, can it? My smile faltered. But it can, Jorie, and you know it.
Unbidden, a flash of Pa, his body too still out on the ice, a crimson halo forming under his head, the dogs barking something fierce, his eyes as cold and unseeing as the stars. I was too late. I had been too late. I nuzzled a little into Bren. Sudden heat pooled in at the corners of my eyes, and I forced the tears back. I reached my hand out, letting my fingers fall softly around hers. She were my everything.
Since our parents had died, it was just us. Me and Bren. I sniffed hard against the cold of the room, gritting my jaw tight.
“Bren, how’s your head? We need to get you warm, your skin is freezin.…,” I whispered.
Bren raised her hand to the side of my face and let her fingers trail down my cheek. Tracing my scar. “I’m okay, Jor, promise. Just don’t move too much, alright.” She let out a little sigh. “I need to rest a little while is all. I’m just so tired.”
“Bren, Bren.” Panic gripped me tighter. “You have to stay awake.” I shifted as Bren took her hand back, the lifting of her fingers from mine a sensation colder than the snowfall outside. “You can’t fall asleep right now, you just can’t.”
But this time Bren didn’t open her eyes. Instead, her head drooped and her pale lips went slack.
From somewhere behind me, somewhere in the black of the hallway, came a deep marrow-rattling rumble. Adrenaline sharp and silver, quick as a pike, cracked through my bones. Heart thundering, head aching, I reached for my knife. Only to find the broken one I’d pocketed off the dead man. I ground my teeth. Yet something were better than nothing.
Vibrations curled up the soft flesh of my spine. I held my breath. A half-floated memory flooded up. No. It couldn’t be. They were gone, weren’t they? I touched my scar as the image of a massive wolf-like creature filled my thoughts—bigger again by half the size of a normal beast, smarter than most people round here, and wicked hard to track, Tracers hadn’t been spotted this far south in years.
People said they’d all been run out, that the settling of the snows that wouldn’t lift and the loss of their prey had all but forced them away. Killed back to nothing but myths in the night. But that growl coming from the darkness of the hall, that weren’t pretend—and neither was the crush of padded feet that followed. My hands shook.
Whatever was making that racket, I’d not want to know it—or its teeth—up close.
I redoubled my grip on the broken knife. I needed to get Bren out of here. Get away before whatever were waiting decided to stop toying with its meal ticket and cash in instead. I rolled Bren onto her side. Half cutting, half ripping off my sleeve, I knotted it rough.
I might not be able to carry her, but I sure as stars could drag her.
As I cinched down the fabric careful, Bren let out a little cry.
Focus, Jorie. But it didn’t work so well. Not with that breathing rustling out of the blackness behind me. Fast and hot. Or maybe it was just my own. “You ain’t never gettin out of being my little sister this easy, Bren.”
Before I could do much else, a rough hand grabbed my shoulder, spinning me round. Wood flooring twistin under my feet.
Callused hands dug into my neck, lifting me. The smell of unwashed pelts and stale smoke filled my nose, my mouth.
I scrambled, clawing against the Rover’s thick arm, digging my nails in. But it were no use. He yanked me tighter to him. I near gagged. The warmth of him, so close it were suffocatin. My fingers caught on something wrapped tight around his wrist. A silver chain with a ruby pendant, my struggle shaking the faceted stone.
Growling, I kicked out and were rewarded by a pained grunt. Then a heavy hand clamped tight over my mouth, stifling the air. He lifted me higher. Pulled me closer.
I bit and struck out as he dragged me into him, till my soles brushed useless against Bren, her body sprawled at my feet.
The Rover’s breath grew hot against the exposed skin of my neck, sending waves of revulsion through me. I swung my arm, every muscle tight. But he pinned it as quick as if I were nothing but flotsam. The man’s hand tightened. My broken knife clattered useless to the floor.
I weren’t gonna go out like this. No way. We ain’t made it this far only to, only to… I cried out against a sudden tightening to his grip. My vision swirled. My throat burned from the effort of pulling air. The man hit me once, hard.
The world spun. Sharp taste of copper filled my mouth. Another mark added to the accounting I wouldn’t soon forget to pay back. I spit. Growling, the Rover tossed me aside, my body landing on the floor with a thud.
“Now that I’ve got your undivided attention,” the Rover said, looming above me, “let ol’ Reeves tell ya just how this is gonna go.”
CHAPTER 3 Missing Chances
First things first,” the Rover said, resting a hand on the wicked antler hunting knife at his side. “You show me the Scholar.”
I shook my head, dazed. “The who?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, girl. The Scholar, that’s who,” he said, lurching into motion.
“What are you talkin about?” I tried to follow his lumbering shape round the room, but my head hurt, everything hurt. I struggled to focus. Had to focus. Had to get to Bren. I pitched forward, only to have the Rover catch me. And smile. A deep leering thing that crept across his face as he lugged me over to the stone fireplace.
He gripped my shoulders tight. “Where’d you hide the bastard’s body?”
“The body?” I asked confused, my gaze darting toward the kitchen. Across from where I leaned against the fireplace, Bren’s head splayed to the side, streaks of bloody hair plastered across her cheek. My gut lurched.
“Tell me,” he demanded.
“You mean the shed?” He must. “I don’t know any of them is that—” But before I could get the words out, the Rover dropped me, grunting.
I tried to rise, to get to my sister, but a foot came down hard on my back, forcing me onto the ground. Before I could bite it back, I cried out in pain. Face pressed to floor, I stared over at my sister. Only she weren’t alone.
“Just so you don’t get any ideas,” he snarled.
I stared. And stared. Next to her curled a lick of nightmare made manifest. Something that shouldn’t be. Something un-real.
Twice the height of a normal wolf, it were near half as thin, with a thick black coat the relentless dark of which were only broke by little tracks of red that curled round its neck. Set deep in the animal’s ragged face, two golden eyes burned bright, sharp as knives as it slunk through the light of the dying candles. The creature moved with an unnerving slickness. It weren’t natural, that movement. It weren’t.
The beast wound closer to Bren’s sprawled body, every stride a menace, every breath hungry. Even from where I lay, the smell of cold and smoke and restlessness rolled off the creature.
“Show me. Or Raz there’s gonna get a little chummier with your sister. He ain’t eaten a good meal in weeks.” A heel ground
into my back. But this time I didn’t right feel it. I clenched my fingers, digging them into the palms of my hands.
The Rover seized my arm, yanking me to my feet. He drug me toward the back of the room, away from Bren. Everything in me screamed out, but my muscles didn’t respond. No air escaped my lips. Every motion were impossible, like trying to pull water through the heart of a glacier.
At the Rover’s side, the beast twisted its muzzle, licking at the slender spikes of its long yellow teeth. Smiling. Everything went temporary gray around the edges. I blinked sharp. My ears ringing, my blood rushing. A shake and I were stumbling. Falling. Knees crunching on something hard as I hit the floor. The knife.
I scrambled for it, just managing to slip it into my sleeve before the Rover tightened his grip on my arm. I moved one foot in front of the other as the Rover drug me toward the kitchen, pale candlelight sputterin harsh in our wake. I opened my mouth, only to have a hand crash over it, stifling my call.
Outside, the wind whipped past, rattlin the aluminum walls with an intensity that promised a rough night. So too did the creeping wave of gray-green mist just visible over the white of the Flats. A storm were coming.
The Rover shoved open the door to the body shed. I stumbled after. Inside the shed were freezing. The Rover dropped my arm. But not before squeezing tight. Only I didn’t feel it. I didn’t feel anything at all. Numb, I staggered against the wall, the metal door clattering at my back.
The Rover’s eyes lit up as he took in what lay before us. Smiling, he stared at me. A shiver ran down my spine. There weren’t many people who’d be right happy to see the dead.
“Stay right there, don’t move one muscle. I ain’t done with you yet.” He hurried to the corpse. Quick as cleaning a fresh kill, the Rover stripped off the man’s clothes. And without care, he began pickin his way over the corpse—turning, twisting, searching—his fingers leaving deep indents in the softening skin of the dead man. The man’s clothes got the same treatment.
“Where the stars is it?” the Rover grumbled. With a growl of frustration, he tossed the dead man’s arm back over the body. Spinning, he turned wild eyes on me. With a few quick strides he closed the distance between us, body looming over mine. I did not flinch. I would not flinch.
“Where is it?”
“Where’s what?” I spit back.
The Rover looked me up and down before shooting a glance over his shoulder at the body. “The bleeding bastards! Think they can keep me from what’s mine. From what I’m owed.” There were something off in his voice. Something boiling.
I straightened. “Far as I can see, you’re the only bleeding bastard here.” The words came out strong. Stronger than I’d expected, and I blinked up at him, my body shaking something fierce.
For the longest breath, the Rover didn’t move a muscle, still as snow before a fall. Calculating. A wicked curl formed at the edge of his lips. The kind that sent a smart girl running the other way, and a girl like me straight for my gun.
“You.” His voice sudden cold.
I clamped my lips shut. His eyes blazed.
“You took it,” he said and shook me. “Give it over.”
“Give what?” I said finally, gesturing at the shed, at the body, my anger rising. “There ain’t nothing else. This is it.” This is all we’ve got left.
“I don’t like liars,” the Rover growled, jutting a glance at the body behind him.
“Neither do I.” Whatever business this were, it weren’t mine. “If ya’d just tell me straight what you were after, maybe I could—”
The Rover narrowed his gaze, emotions warring across the muscles of his face. I didn’t right like a one of ’em.
Finally he dropped my stare and turned to the body. “He had a coat. Where is it?”
“His coat, why?” I asked. “There ain’t nothing special about that dirty bearskin coat, less you count the bullet holes in the back.” I certain didn’t.
“Where is it?”
I blinked at him. Right. Fine. If he wanted it, he were more than welcome to it. I raised my hand and pointed to the workbench. “Over there.” I gestured to the lowest shelves in the back. “With all the rest of the things I found.”
Real quick like, the Rover lurched over to them. Muttering something violent about traitors and liars I couldn’t quite hear, he rummaged round the piles.
My head still buzzed about the edges and I swallowed down a sudden sprig of nausea. I flicked my gaze to the door. I took a step toward it. The Rover didn’t look up. I took another step, shifting my weight to the balls of my feet. I had to get back to Bren.
“Worthless, scuttling liars, all of ’em. I knew he’d double-cross me. Where the stars is it?” He were near frenzied. Distracted. I took another step. Only a few more paces…
My flight cut off as the Rover flung a metal container fast and hard across the shed. Right at my head. It hit the metal of the wall with an ear-shattering clang. I froze. The Rover was staring right at me.
“I thought I’d gone and told ya not to move.” His voice had gone all smooth. Too smooth.
I swallowed. At my back the wind shook the shed. The Rover twisted to the shelves, searching the rest of the dead man’s things.
The Rover turned his attention to the silver-faced compass. My heart gave a little flutter. It were broke, but it weren’t exactly scrap either. Maybe he’d think I’d lied. And if I lied about one thing… The Rover turned it over in his thick hand, a slick smile spreading over his cold-cracked lips before he opened it. Bits of blackened charcoal and sooty ice came tumbling out. Growling, he kicked the pieces, scattering them across the floor till they came to rest against the stack of bodies.
“As useless and empty as all the rest they try and sell,” he said. And with a grunt, tossed the compass back into the pile. Pushing aside some rope, he picked up the dead man’s notebook. Squinting and grumbling at the pages. He couldn’t right read them neither. He flipped hasty to the back, shaking the notebook. A single piece of paper, torn, fluttered to the frozen ground.
He frowned and bent to pick it up, studying the writing. A moment later he gave a cry of frustration, crumpling the page. Whatever he was after weren’t there. He turned his fathoms-deep scowl to me as he slipped the notebook and the wrinkled page into his own coat.
“Where is the rest of it?”
I inched closer to the door rattling at my back, my fingers brushing light against the cold metal. “Rest of it?”
“Don’t play a fool with me, girl. That won’t end well.” He jutted his chin toward the house. My fingers froze on the handle. I couldn’t outrun him. Him and whatever beast that was back in the room.
“You pocket them? Think maybe you could use ’em yourself? That no one come looking? I trailed that double-crossing dupe for days, watching him, waiting, only to have him run out into that storm.” He began pacing. “Then this morning, guess who were standing out there on them Flats? Not him, no. You.”
The words sent every hair on my body straight up.
“Out there, draggin his body in from the ice. I tried to be the first one out searching. I did. But when I found him you were already there. So I said to myself, Harden Reeves, now ain’t that something? The man’s dead but he ain’t alone. Has a friend. And the moment I saw the way you looked at him, I knew it true. Why else would a girl slog a dead man in from the ice, unless he’d something she wanted? And she knew where to look.”
Knew where to look? Man was losing it. Not that he had much to begin with.
“But I ain’t survived this long cause I trust what I see. Double-checked my odds, I did. And in the nearest house, to my good luck, what did I find? But two girls, all alone.”
“We ain’t all—”
Rover laughed. “Of course you are. Question is, what to do about it now? Cause either you girls are lying to me because you think I ain’t smart enough to know otherwise or you’re lying to me cause you ain’t smart enough to know otherwise.” He smiled, tilting his head.
“Either way don’t matter to me. I’ll get what I were promised. And you will give it to me.”
“But I don’t have nothing. I don’t even know who that man is. I swear it. I don’t. It’s the truth.” Real panic fluttered in my chest. Cause I knew it then. Truth or no, Rover had already made up his mind.
“Look, I ain’t unreasonable. You just tell me what you did with what you took from him, hand them over right and proper, and good ol’ Reeves might just overlook it.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but he cut me off.
“And mind your words right, cause if I don’t like what I hear, there’ll be no second chances.” The tip of his tongue flicked to the edge of his mouth.
My stomach rolled. I hesitated. My pocket felt sudden heavy.
“There is one thing.” I pulled out the broken blade.
Snaking closed the distance between us, the Rover seized it. The brush of his callused hands across my knuckles sent a throb of revulsion through me. The Rover must have seen it cause his lip curled up tight, a lecherous smile tilted in his eyes. He turned the knife over in his palm.
Eyes locked on mine, he raised the handle to his ear and tapped. Dull. Like solid bone. Frowning, he scrutinized the end, fiddling with it, but no amount of twisting opened it. There weren’t nothing to open. Just a broken knife. No secrets. Grunting, the Rover tossed it over his shoulder. It landed flat right on top of the belly of the body behind him.
After that he pulled down everything in the shed. Ropes, wood, metal scraps, it all got looked at, cussed at, and tossed away. Everything I’d ever found and cleaned and stored. One by one. The taste of white, bitter and clean, filled my throat. Cause there ain’t nothing in my life has ever been worth stealing.
Done, the Rover stared at me for a good long while. The kind of stare an adder gives the mouse. Just before.