nightrise

by Nell Stark

  “Shadow Ranch.” Even I could translate that phrase. The name had probably been a reference to the ranch’s location in the shadow of the volcano, but the ominous connotation seemed especially fitting now.

  “You’re really planning to pay it a visit?” said Katrina. “You do realize that the trip will take days. The roads here are nothing like the highways that crisscross the States.”

  I kept my gaze and voice steady. “We are. And I know.”

  “We aren’t risking any kind of legal sanctions from the government, are we?” asked Olivia.

  “As long as you’re not excavating, you’ll be fine. But if you do discover something, please report it right away.”

  “Of course.” I turned to Dr. Esperanza, who was still hunched over the fragments of frayed parchment. “Gracias, señora.”

  After Olivia and Katrina had made their farewells, the three of us headed for the exit. “Thank you for serving as our interpreter, Katrina,” I said as we walked down the stairs.

  “I’m glad I could help. I really did need an afternoon off, and your project sounds fascinating.”

  As we emerged onto the ground floor, Olivia spun to face us. “Let’s all go out for a celebratory dinner. Trina should choose the place.” Her color was high, and the light flush painted across her cheekbones set off her dark eyes. She was stunning in her triumph, and I had to look away.

  “You two go ahead. I’m going to turn in early.”

  “Alexa—” When Olivia touched my shoulder, I was hard-pressed not to shrug off her grip. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with feeling a twinge of arousal around her. It was natural. To be expected. And my guilt was wholly out of place. I was a single woman, after all.

  “I won’t leave without you, Liv,” I said lightly. “Promise. Have a good time.”

  Before she could protest again, I forged through the double doors and into the rising night.

  Chapter Seven

  We pulled out of the hotel parking garage under a pearl-gray sky. As I turned the car onto the nearly deserted boulevard that would lead us out of Buenos Aires, I smiled in satisfaction. Beside me, Olivia curled into herself and rested her forehead against the cool windowpane. She had returned to the hotel room late, and I hadn’t needed the keen senses of a shifter to know she’d been drinking. I’d been able to resume only a fitful doze before my alarm had woken me well before dawn, but I didn’t feel fatigued—only energized for the hunt to come.

  When I pulled over three hours later for gas and coffee, Olivia woke. She would have drunk from one of our canteens if I hadn’t glared at her and pointed to the small store next to the pumps.

  “Ojos del Salado isn’t all that far from the driest desert in the world. Water is going to be a precious commodity.”

  She gave me a baleful look and stalked toward the store. After hooking up the pump, I did a few stretches to limber up my stiff shoulders and hamstrings. Olivia emerged with two bottles of water while I was bent over with my palms nearly touching the dust. She whistled, and I couldn’t fight the blush that crept up my neck.

  “You’re feeling better, I take it?” I said, not meeting her eyes.

  “Last night was worth a little headache. You should have come with us. We drank some amazing wine.” She unwrapped a candy bar as I pulled back onto the road. “Trina had heard that the Fiambala area is known for its vineyards, so we sampled a few bottles.”

  “And?”

  I caught her teasing smile in my peripheral vision. “And I thought this trip was all about business to you. Suddenly you care about wine?”

  “I was making conversation to be polite. Do you even remember how?”

  She laughed. “You know my last name. Politeness is hardwired into our genes.”

  I couldn’t help but think of Valentine, whose parents had chosen the company of so-called polite society over accepting their own daughter. “Did your family...how did they react, when you came out?”

  Olivia blinked at the sudden change in topic. “Ah, there was some grumbling. Mostly on the part of my grandparents and one of my uncles. But my mother and father have never been anything but supportive.” She shot me a sympathetic look. “Val didn’t have it easy, did she?”

  “Never. She fought them tooth and nail. Until...”

  “What about you?” Olivia asked quickly. “And your family?”

  “They sound a lot like yours—on the tolerance count, anyway. I’m lucky.”

  “We both are.”

  We settled into a comfortable silence, and for the first time since we had left New York, I found myself unambiguously glad that Olivia had insisted on accompanying me. The journey would have been long and lonely otherwise. And I wouldn’t have learned about Shadow Ranch.

  “Solana Carrizo.” Only at Olivia’s curious glance did I realize I’d said the words aloud. “It’s a beautiful name, don’t you think?”

  “She must have been quite the woman to have bucked tradition and taken over the leadership of her family.”

  “Maybe she didn’t have a choice.”

  Olivia drummed her fingers on the dashboard. “You think one of her family members forced her into it?”

  “Or maybe a vampire did. If they were sponsoring the estancieros, then she might have been caught in the middle of a turf war.”

  “Do you have any idea what they were doing in Argentina?” Olivia asked.

  “No.” But as the miles of rolling plains passed under our tires, I carefully considered her question. “I wonder if historically, it’s been easier for vampires—and for shifters, to a degree—to live in places undergoing some kind of social or political upheaval.”

  “That makes sense, I suppose. In times of turmoil, people who deviate from the norm don’t stand out as much.”

  “Are you calling me abnormal?” At Olivia’s obvious chagrin, I smiled. “Relax. I was just teasing.”

  “Who knew you still had it in you,” she muttered. But then her expression turned thoughtful. “In a way, though, the question of ‘normalcy’ is legitimate, isn’t it? You call yourself a shifter, but what does that mean?”

  “It’s up for debate,” I said, remembering back to several long conversations with Delacourte over the summer. A momentary twinge of grief made my chest constrict. “I’m not sure anyone knows how we evolved, or how long ago. Whether we’re different species, or sub-species of humans, or just...diseased.”

  “But you can reproduce, can’t you?”

  “Shifters can,” I said automatically, then clamped my jaw shut, wishing I could take the words back. There were some secrets that shouldn’t be entrusted to anyone outside the community.

  “Not vampires?”

  When I remained silent, Olivia settled back in her seat. “Okay, fine. I understand. Let’s talk about something else, like what we’re going to do when we get to Fiambala. We still don’t exactly have GPS coordinates for Shadow Ranch, and neither of us knows enough Spanish to go sleuthing.”

  I smiled. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Oh?”

  “While you were carousing last night, I did some research online. There’s a famous mountaineering store in Fiambala that supplies hikers from around the world for treks up Ojos del Salado. I’m betting someone there speaks English, and they may even have heard of Shadow Ranch.”

  When I glanced at Olivia, she actually seemed impressed. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

  Not wanting to jinx us, I didn’t reply.

  *

  We crossed over the city limits of Fiambala just after noon the next day. Olivia navigated us through the narrow streets with a map we’d purchased at a gas station at the edge of town, and within only a few minutes, we pulled into the parking lot behind the store. It was packed with other Jeeps, pickups of all sizes, and even some ATVs.

  Inside, a fair-haired couple were surveying rucksacks hanging on the wall and conversing in a Scandinavian-sounding language. I headed straight for the counter, where a tanned
youth slouched on a stool. He looked me up and down as I approached, and grinned.

  I managed to resist rolling my eyes. “Could you give us some directions, please?”

  “Where to, señorita?”

  “A place called Shadow Ranch. Somewhere to the north of here.”

  He flexed his biceps and smoothed one finger over the patchy mustache he’d doubtless cultivated for weeks. “You ever hear ‘mi casa es su casa?’”

  Olivia brushed the back of her knuckles against my cheek as she joined me at the counter. The boy’s eyes bugged at her caress. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she said. “Now, how about those directions?”

  He blinked at us, said a word in Spanish that I didn’t recognize, and disappeared into the back of the store. Olivia’s smile was broad.

  “You’re welcome.”

  I bumped her shoulder lightly with mine. “I could have handled it.”

  “I didn’t want the poor boy to get his head ripped off. He was only flirting with a beautiful woman.”

  Thankfully, I didn’t have to come up with a response. A middle-aged man emerged from the back with the teen in tow and greeted us with the sandpaper voice of a lifetime smoker. He wore a tight gray T-shirt that accentuated the corded muscles of his arms, and his face was dark and weathered like the crags of the mountains that loomed above us.

  “Good afternoon,” he said in careful English. “I am Emilio. How can I help?”

  “We’re doing some hiking around the volcano,” I said. “We’ve heard of a place called Shadow Ranch, and we’d like to go there. Do you know it?”

  His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “You want the...the casa encantada, eh? The ghost house?”

  “Haunted house,” Olivia said. “Yes, we want to see it.”

  “You see it, the ghost might see you.”

  “We’re not worried,” I said. “How do we get there?”

  He shrugged and picked up a black marker from its perch on the cash register, then turned over a colorful flyer for one of the local motels and began to draw. As the map took shape, he explained that the path to the ranch had fallen out of use long ago and was easy to miss from the main road.

  “Can I drive my Jeep? Or will we have to walk?”

  He shook his head. “I do not know.”

  “You’ve never been there?”

  His brows angled in a frown. “The land is cursed.”

  I stuffed several bills into the tip jar on the counter. “Thank you for your help.”

  He said nothing, and as we left the store, I wondered whether he would keep the money. Or whether, simply by virtue of being associated with the haunted house, Emilio would consider it too to be cursed.

  *

  We drove past the head of the trail three times before finally noticing the two distinct ruts still visible through gaps in the foliage. But our success was short-lived. Less than a hundred yards down the path, we were forced to abandon the Jeep before a massive fallen tree.

  “Man or nature?” Olivia asked as we stood over the decomposing trunk. It was already an inextricable part of the landscape, new plants having taken root in and around the tree’s carcass.

  “I think someone did this,” I said. “Look at the ninety-degree angle with the path. That’s not haphazard.”

  Beyond the obstacle, the trail curved up and to the northwest before disappearing into a dense stand of trees. I returned to the Jeep and hefted the large pack that held our camping supplies, then directed Olivia to take a smaller bag filled with dried food.

  “Why do you get to be the macho one?” she said as she watched me adjust the thick straps so the pack’s weight was concentrated more on my hips than on my back.

  “Because I’m the one with superpowers.”

  I had been trying to make a joke, but Olivia blinked in surprise. “Your panther makes you stronger when you’re human, too?”

  “I’m not human,” I corrected her. “I just look like one sometimes. And the answer to your question is yes.” I could have told her more—how my healing ability and senses were also enhanced—but she already knew too much. Besides, my panther was on high alert now that we were in the wild. She wanted to hunt, and her seething impatience was bleeding into me.

  “How many hours do we have until dark?” Olivia asked as she clambered over the tree after me.

  “Sunset’s at eight twenty-five.” Not wanting to be caught unprepared at nightfall, I had looked it up this morning. Of course, if my theory about the vampire presence here was correct, he or she was not confined to the darkness and could surprise us at any time. Not exactly a comforting thought, but I tried to soothe my inner beast by reminding her of our significant physical advantage over vampires.

  The trail grew worse as we traveled further from the main road, and Olivia soon abandoned any other attempts at conversation. I let my panther ride close to the surface, allowing her instincts to monitor our surroundings. She scented deer a few times, and once even a bear, but never did she detect anything amiss.

  And then, as the afternoon light began to dim and the air grew cooler, we stepped into a large clearing. In the distance, across a hundred yards of tall, unruly grass, sat a white stone house set into the hillside. A two-tiered terrace led down to the field, bordered by a barn on one side and a corral on the other. Behind the house, the land rose sharply, sweeping up and back to form one flank of the mountain.

  “Shadow Ranch,” said Olivia.

  I accepted the canteen she handed me and drank deeply. “Shall we go see who’s home?”

  Olivia drew her gun and examined it closely, then thumbed off the safety. “Ready when you are.”

  But when she would have moved forward, I stopped her with my hand on her wrist. “If something happens and I shift, there are two things you should know.” She paled slightly at the thought, and I found myself stroking her forearm in reassurance. “I’ll have control of the panther. It’s always a fight, but I won’t hurt you, and I’ll be able to understand anything you say.”

  She nodded once. “What’s the second thing?”

  “I’ll be ravenous. Shifting takes a lot of energy, and I’ll need to hunt and eat before I can return to human form.”

  Her laugh was shaky. “Just as long as I’m not your quarry.”

  “I told you, I won’t hurt you.” I made her the promise with a newfound confidence—born, ironically, of that disastrous night at Luna when I’d run into Valentine. I hadn’t been able to keep from shifting, but I’d managed to avoid causing any human casualties. After maintaining control through that emotional crucible, I felt reasonably certain that I would only ever surrender to my panther’s predatory instincts on my own terms.

  “I trust you,” Olivia said.

  I turned to face the ranch. There was no way to conceal our approach short of crawling through the grass, and if someone were watching from the elevated house, they would see us regardless. There was no sense in stowing the packs here and trying to be sneaky. We were going to have to walk in the open. I took a steadying breath and then moved forward, sticking to the shelter of the trees as long as possible before finally turning into the meadow. My panther wanted to be the one doing the stalking, and I grimaced at the effort of holding her back.

  We reached the edge of the terrace without mishap and turned onto the gravel path that wound up to the front door. Dirt and leaves mingled with round, white stones. It was clear that this walkway, at least, had not been rigorously maintained for many years. As we walked, I peered up into the large front windows but couldn’t see anything past the glare.

  The front door was large and made of oak. Wood grains showed through the burnished gold paint in several places. A fresh coat was long overdue. I glanced at Olivia, who simply shrugged and tightened her fingers on the grip of her gun.

  “Here goes nothing,” I said before raising the heavy knocker and letting it fall once, twice, three times. I leaned forward in expectation, confident that my amplified hearing would alert me to any move
ment. But aside from the soft skittering of mice in the walls, I heard nothing.

  “Now what?” Olivia asked once it became obvious that no one would be greeting us. She palmed the door handle, but it didn’t move. “Shall I shoot the lock?”

  “And alert everyone within a mile? I don’t think so.” I brushed her hand away, gripped the elaborate pewter knob, and twisted sharply as I pushed with preternatural strength. There was the sound of wood splintering, and then the door swung inward.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Olivia, who looked equal parts surprised and impressed, and gestured for her to follow me. The interior of the house was dim, and I paused just inside the door to give my eyes a chance to adjust. To our left was a parlor, complete with several armchairs and a chaise lounge. Across the hall, the dining room took up the remaining width of the house. The long table was covered with a sheet, but thick gilt legs made of a dark wood stuck out from beneath the coverlet.

  The rooms were deserted. I held my breath to listen, but the house was still. Silent. Even so, my arms and neck prickled in warning, and I shrugged off the pack to gain a greater range of motion. If someone tried to steal it, I would hear their movements.

  I beckoned Olivia forward, and we made our way down the hall until it ended at the foot of a spiral staircase. Two rooms branched off from the corridor. To the right, the coppery tiles of the spacious kitchen gleamed in counterpoint to its pale wooden cupboards. To the left, dust motes danced in the sunlight filtering into a room bordered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. My attention was drawn to an ornate wooden desk and the artwork that hung above it—a watercolor rendition of the ranch, poised like a bright pearl set deep into the maw of the volcanic ridge.

  Wanting to examine the painting, I stepped over the threshold…only to gasp as my panther thrashed wildly. Her desperation punched the breath from my lungs, and I reached out blindly for the doorframe. But my hand closed on air as I was suddenly shoved to the side, and I cried out as my assailant pinned my arm behind my back. My attacker swept my legs out from under me, and for an instant, I was falling.