by Hattie Hunt
Leslie met Ripley’s eyes, brow peaked. Leslie Whiskey didn’t seem to be phased by much, but the way she looked at Ripley just then wasn’t exactly comforting. And she was pretty sure the look didn’t have to do with Juliet’s injuries. Had her eyes gone all smoky again? Decima still hovered near the surface, her own curiosity pulsing through Ripley’s veins. What?
She was looking at me.
Ripley moved behind Juliet and focused on pulling her hair away from her face and neck. So don’t make it so obvious what we’re doing.
Leslie hmmed as she worked her way over Juliet’s exposed skin, checking for any obvious abrasions. “Grandma, I need a rag.”
“What do you think I’m getting?” Alma came back with a bowl of water and a roll of paper towels.
Snow snatched the roll out of Alma’s hand and gave her a long look. “Not very Wiccan of you.”
“I’ll keep them and put them in my garden as compost.”
Ripley didn’t even try and interpret the weird conversation happening between the two women. As far as she knew, paper towels had nothing to do with witchcraft. She looked down at Juliet. Sure, they knew she hadn’t been bitten. But damn, there was still a lot of blood. “Can you help her?”
Leslie nodded. “I just need to see what we’re dealing with here.”
A knock sounded and Ripley spun around. Her nostrils flared, assaulted with the smell of an unfamiliar human.
“What the hell is this?”
Leslie didn’t look up, attention focused on dabbing a particularly bloody spot on Juliet’s arm.
Snow, completely unperturbed, shrugged past Ripley to get the door.
Alma narrowed her white eyes in question. “What’s wrong?”
“No one,” Ripley said through bared teeth as she advanced, “should know about this place.”
“Why are you so upset?” the crone asked.
“Because.” Ripley stopped with her hand on the handle. “There’s a shoot to kill order on Brett.” With good reason, no less. It had been a mistake to try and help the brothers instead of doing what she knew had to be done. She should have just killed Brett when she found out, when Decima showed her what would happen. Juliet’s injuries were on her hands.
“Well, open the damned door and find out what we’re dealing with.” Alma stood just inside the living area, her gnarled hands clawed as if she held some sort of power ready for attack.
Ripley shook her head and opened the door. This wasn’t a damned cartoon and that shit didn’t actually happen.
Over-roasted coffee assaulted Ripley’s nose as a man shoved a tray of cups into her hands, pushing past her without much of a second glance. She wheeled around, eyes tracking the tall, bald, and rather large man who at least smelled entirely human. “Leslie, you better be in here.”
Ripley’s irritation with this man boiled. The room wasn’t big. If he used his eyes for two seconds, he couldn’t miss her.
“Barn?” Leslie called without looking up. She was working the rag over a spot on Juliet’s neck.
“Why are you here?” Ripley asked, setting the tray of drinks on the counter in the kitchen. Ripley stole a glance out to the clearing. Brett and Joe were nowhere in sight. If Brett bit Joe, she was going to kill him. She wouldn’t even have to think about it. It would just happen.
Leslie looked up. “Yeah. What the hell are you doing here?”
“You weren’t at the store and I followed your GPS. I had nothing else better to do and I knew you could use my help.” He rushed to the table, dumping his bag on a chair. Opening it, he pulled out a kit. “Is this one of them?”
The man looked like a semi-crazed scientist ready to work on an experiment.
“I had a feeling he might infect one of you before we found a cure. But I’d hoped I’d have a little more time before that happened. Like a day or two.” Leslie tore free a fresh towel and dipped it into the water bowl.
“I was, too.” Barn grabbed another towel set to work on Juliet’s closest arm.
“Would someone tell me what the hell is going on here?” Ripley demanded. “Did you know we needed medical help? How did you get here so quickly?”
Leslie shook her head. “We had a feeling.”
“How wouldn’t we have had that feeling? Rabid bear on the loose. Come on.” Barn looked up at Leslie. “What the hell got her?”
“A bear,” Leslie said, then straightened. “I don’t see any bite marks.” She sighed in relief. “Just claws.”
“I told you she wasn’t bitten.” Claws didn’t seem much better than teeth at this point. She knew they were better, but she’d seen Brett’s claws. They were huge.
“You bring a sewing kit?” Leslie asked Barn.
“Of course.”
“You brought coffee and a sewing kit?” Snow asked.
“You never know what you’ll need when you’re with the Whiskeys,” Barn said nonchalantly. He opened the kit he’d pulled out of his bag. “I’m not going to promise that some of these won’t scar.”
“That’s true.” Leslie gingerly touched Juliet’s face. “But she’s a shapeshifter, so she should at least heal faster.”
“That’s a blessing.”
Ripley hovered on the edge of the room as they sewed Juliet up. The most useful thing she had been able to do was grab a robe out of the bedroom. She knew shifters didn’t care, but she didn’t feel right just leaving Juliet hanging out all in the open. Not that the robe would do any good before they finished cleaning her up.
Which left Ripley to pace between the kitchen and the front room, half in panic over Joe and Brett. Twice, she almost went out there after them. Then she remembered that she might be death in dog form, but they were grizzlies. Who probably ate dogs, harbingers of death or no.
Barn set to work with his needle, and Ripley finally stationed herself between the couch and the kitchen, where she could jump to action in any direction if needed. Juliet faded in and out of consciousness, and each time she woke up, Alma coaxed her into drinking a potent smelling concoction she and Snow had put together after Barn stepped in.
Each time, Ripley had to remind herself the witches were on their side, talking her instincts down from the urge to smack the cup away from Juliet’s lips.
It is getting crowded in here, Decima chided.
Ripley wasn’t sure if she was talking about the cabin or the space the padfoot occupied inside of her. Because Ripley thought she might burst if Joe didn’t get back soon. She decided not to answer the comment. If she opened her mouth, aloud or not, she didn’t know if she would have control over what she said. Years spent on the battlefield and she felt like she had never been under stress before.
The air shifted, and a light breeze brought the smell of bear through the screened window. Before Ripley could react, the door slammed open and Brett half fell inside, closely followed by Joe. The whole room charged with electricity as attention turned to the brothers, and Ripley was sure at least the witches had poised to attack. Or defend. Kill?
She shook that thought away and stepped up to Joe, slipping her hand into his with a meaningful look. Brett stumbled across the room, collapsing at Juliet’s feet, no sign of bear over his broken body. He was covered in blood and missing a tuft of hair behind his left ear. His body heaved despairing sobs as he wrapped his arms around Juliet’s leg, and she stirred, eyes blinking open.
“Brett?”
“Jesus. Juliet. I—” He buried his face into her calf and Alma appeared next to them, offering a drink first to Juliet and then nudging the cup into Brett’s shoulder.
“She’ll live. Drink up, sonny.” Brett took the cup without a word, swallowed the liquid in one gulp, and settled onto the floor looking a thousand kinds of miserable. Leslie patted down Juliet’s arm once more with a wet rag and removed herself to the kitchen sink to clean up.
With resolve that baffled Ripley, Juliet reached down and cupped her hand around Brett’s chin, turning it up so he had to meet her eyes. And smiled.
<
br /> Ripley’s heart ached as she turned her back on them, grounding herself in the feel of Joe’s hand against her own. So that was love. She could feel her heart ripping in two. Which, considering she barely had a heart to begin with, was saying something. It tore for Juliet. For Brett. For Joe. For herself.
She looked up at Joe. He looked down at her, eyes glassy with emotion. The poor guy looked beat. Bear hair bristled over his shoulders, still on guard, untrusting. Afraid. How close had things come while they were out there?
Joe could have been reading her thoughts. He reached up with his free hand and raked it through his hair, then shook his head. “If they don’t have a cure, we might have to do something. Did he bite her?”
Ripley pursed her lips and shook her head. “He loves her a lot, even as a crazed, rabid bear.”
“Small favors.” Joe bit his bottom lip. “This is going to get bad.”
“What are we going to do?”
Joe looked at his brother and Juliet, his eyes hollow. Then his gaze found Leslie. “Where are we with the cure?”
She toweled off her hands and frowned. “We have a possible cure.”
Joe glanced at Ripley.
Yeah. She heard the tone, too. “What is it?”
“The cure? Magick. Herbs.” She shrugged.
“No,” Ripley said. “The but. What’s the but?”
Leslie tossed the towel on the table. “We need another day.”
“I don’t know how much more time we’ll be able to buy.” Ripley waggled her phone at the woman. “It’s a shoot-to-kill order, Leslie. They’re serious. They see him, and it’s lights out. No negotiations.”
“I understand that.”
“Do you? Because we can’t just tie him up. How do you suggest we keep him contained until then?”
Alma shambled towards the kitchen. “Leave that to us.” She gestured to Snow. “Explain.”
Snow pursed her lips and joined them, leaving Barn, Juliet, and Brett to their business. “This cabin belonged to the last shifter afflicted with rabies. We lost him. We would have lost a lot more it wasn’t for the room.”
“The room?” Ripley asked.
Snow nodded, then pointed at Joe. “Find some pants, and then follow me.”
Ripley blushed and stepped away from Joe, realizing for the first time that he was completely naked. Damned shifters. She hoped no one else noticed the heat in her cheeks as she watched his naked ass cross the room and retrieve a pair of sweats from his duffel.
Snow, Alma, and Leslie stepped outside, and Joe stepped by Ripley with a wink as he slid his hand back into hers. Well, he had noticed at least. Great.
They went around the house, to where the foot of the mountain almost butted against the rear wall of the cabin. Not far beyond, a screen of hanging tree limbs obscured a surprisingly sturdy looking door. “We have no idea what the original intent of this place was, or when it was put here,” Snow explained.
Ripley frowned, moving in for a closer look.
Snow reached between two branches and pulled hard on the handle. It gave with a squealing cry. “But we kept him in here. We tried the cure. It didn’t work.”
“Your blood’s thin,” Alma said, her tone not quite condescending. “You did what you could.”
Snow shrugged. “I still lost him.” She stepped back. “Anyway. We can keep Brett in there. We’ll leave enough food for a couple of days, just in case. We don’t open that door for anything until then.”
“But Juliet was working to repress his bear.”
Snow snorted. “If she knows of something that can repress a rabid grizzly bear, I’ll take two.”
Brett hadn’t moved from his vigil on the floor. Juliet was unconscious again, and he gripped her hand like it was a lifeline. Whether the lifeline was meant for himself or for her, Joe couldn’t quite decide.
“Let me handle this,” he said, shooing the women back outside. Barn had finished sewing Juliet up, and he sat on the couch writing in a journal. Stitches marked long lines of angry red flesh along Juliet’s arms, her cheek, and in one particularly nasty place on her neck. It was a miracle she was still alive.
Joe put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “She’ll be all right.”
Brett didn’t look up. If anything, he crumpled further into himself. “Did I hurt you, too?” His voice came out cracked.
Joe shook his head, but Brett still hadn’t looked up. “I’ve had worse.”
“You should have killed me. I couldn’t live with myself if… if she died. If anyone dies because of me.”
“No one’s dying today. Including you. Get up. You need to eat something.” Joe pulled on Brett’s shoulder, forcing him around to face him. His eyes were bloodshot, his face streaked equally in blood, grime, and tears. Joe held out a hand to help him up, and Brett took it.
The tray of discarded coffee sat cold on the counter, but it was something to drink, and Joe handed a cup to Brett and then took one for himself. It tasted like tar, and even if it was decaf, the taste alone would be enough to clear his thoughts. Brett leaned against the counter, just staring into his cup, and Joe set about finding food.
He wasn’t in the mood to boil water, and most of the food he and Ripley had picked up needed it. In the bottom of the bag, he found a couple MREs. Beef ravioli. Joe cringed. It would have to do. Nudging his brother in the arm, Joe handed over an MRE and then settled himself against the counter. Wordlessly, the brothers dissected the contents of their meal packets and dumped the salt water packets into the heating bags.
They set them down and waited. The silence between them was tangible, and Joe hated it. He and his brother were close. They always had been. Though lately, with Juliet in the picture, he felt less confident about it. A third wheel added a dynamic he wasn’t used to. Especially if he was the third wheel. And besides that, he really had no idea what to say. Words were simply that…words. When things were this bad, they weren’t going to do much to help.
Joe tapped his fingers on the counter and looked up at Brett. He had gone back to staring at his coffee. “How are you feeling?”
Brett snorted. “Like a monster. How do you think I feel?”
“Leslie has a plan.”
Brett snorted again. “Snow’s plan didn’t work. It made it worse.”
“We knew Snow’s cure wouldn’t work. She told us it wouldn’t.” Joe found his coffee and took a long swallow. And wished it was spiked with whiskey.
Brett chugged his drink and chucked the cup across the kitchen. It bounced off the wall and landed in the sink with a thunk. “And where is Leslie’s cure then? We need it. Right now. I could freak out a minute from now and kill every one of you.”
This was his chance. “They have a way to keep everyone safe.”
Brett cringed, but his eyebrows lifted in curiosity. Hope? “A rifle?” He made a gun out of his fist and fired. “With real bullets?”
“Brett, we’re not going to kill you. Shit. If we wanted you dead, Chuck is on speed dial.”
Joe watched Brett for a second, gauging his mood. How far could he push him? In the living room, Juliet moaned.
“We need to get her out of that fucking chair. Make her comfortable. Help me, will you?” Brett charged across the room and wrapped a fist around Barn’s forearm. “You. Out.”
Barn took the assault in stride, shrugging as he maneuvered out of Brett’s grip and went outside. Joe positioned himself next to Juliet and reached out to help lift her, but Brett shoved him out of the way and lifted her into his arms with surprising grace. Juliet might as well have been a feather. So, Joe picked up one of the folded blankets he and Ripley had slept on the night before and waited for Brett to turn back around.
Brett took the blanket and tucked it around her, readjusting it a dozen times before finally kissing her on the forehead. He lingered there for a moment, then returned to the kitchen. Ripping open a drawer, he dug around for a fork and then dove into his meal.
Joe watched silently from the
couch, trying to decide if his brother had had a minor breakthrough or if he was acting rabid. His own bear bristled, but Brett’s was nowhere in sight. Good enough for him. He joined his brother and picked up his own food packet, though he didn’t eat it.
“Like I was saying, we have a plan to keep everyone safe. Including you.” Joe hesitated. “And I don’t want to have to force you into it.”
Brett’s gaze shot up and then narrowed.
“We are all in this together. You. Me. Juliet. The Whiskeys, Snow… Ripley. If we fight one another, we might as well pull the trigger. There isn’t time for anything else.”
“I haven’t been fighting with anyone,” Brett growled, a hint of his bear coming through.
Joe needed to work fast. “You’re right.” Except for Ripley, but he wasn’t going to bring that up. “I just don’t think you’re going to like our plan.”
Brett tilted the MRE packet up and dumped the last few bites into his mouth. He crumpled it and tossed it into the sink with the earlier cup. “Quit hedging and get it over with, brother.” He leaned over the counter, pressing his forehead into his hands. “At this point, I will try about anything.”
“There is a cellar. Or a bunker. I don’t know what it is, really. It’s behind the cabin.” Joe pressed his gaze on his brother, his own bear bristled, present. Just in case. “I can’t believe we never found the place, after we started coming here. The trees have a way of hiding things they don’t want found.”
“You know where we live, right? If a tree wanted to be a goat, it probably could.”
Joe snorted out a laugh, his brother’s humor so unexpected in the moment. Brett looked up, the edges of his eyes crinkled, and then he laughed too.
It took a few minutes for them to regain their composure. They stopped laughing in turns, and just when they thought they had found themselves, one of them cracked up and the cycle started all over again. Three days of shattered hopes, fear, anger and despair bounced around the room in the echoes of their laughter.
“So. Let me guess,” Brett said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “You’re going to lock me in the dungeon. Chains and all.”