Switch of Fate 2

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Switch of Fate 2 Page 13

by Grace Quillen


  He came into Darby’s room where Goldie was still furiously packing, put his hand on her shoulder. “Pumpkin, what happened?”

  Goldie shook him off, storming into the bathroom for their toothbrushes, hairbrushes, and Darby’s favorite makeup case that she would absolutely insist Goldie go back for if she forgot it. Flint blocked the door as she made to exit. “Let me go, I’ve got to get my sister.”

  His brown eyes sought to connect with hers, but Goldie wouldn’t meet his gaze. There were too many plans she had to make, too much weight she had to juggle. She slipped under his arm and resumed packing.

  Flint made an impatient noise. “Bryce just left to get her, and he’s on the phone with Hernando to make sure they keep eyes on her until he gets there, and then he’ll bring her right back here. She’s safe, I promise. Dammit, Goldie, what’s this about?”

  But Goldie couldn’t speak. Her lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears, and she couldn’t make her mouth form words. He had done all that, without her even having to ask? Made sure her sister was safe and sent Bryce to bring her home, and then come over here to check on Goldie himself?

  Flint reached out, pulling Goldie into his arms. He was so strong and steady, and she wanted so badly to be rescued from the disaster her life had become. Goldie buried her face in his chest and tried to breathe, but all she could smell was his clean, woodsy scent that was more like home than anything she’d ever known.

  One arm spanned her back, the hand cradling her shoulder, as Flint used his other hand to stroke her hair back from her face. “It’ll be okay. Let me help you.”

  Goldie felt the muscles in her shoulders tighten and her spine straighten. What could he even do that would help? If she stayed and let Flint take her into his orbit as part of The Cause she’d end up in an even more bizarre and unstable situation, one that left her sister completely out in the cold. And no way could she do that to Darby. Goldie knew where her responsibilities lay.

  She pushed away from Flint’s solid warmth. No man was going to save them, not even this one. Especially not this one, with his one hand already on the metaphorical doorknob. Goldie would do for herself and for Darby, just like she always had. She avoided Flint’s eyes as she resumed her packing, but as he sank back against the wall Goldie felt them on her.

  Flint’s voice was a low, sad growl. “You’re leaving?”

  Goldie winced at the pain she heard. “We have to. He found us.”

  With a snarl Flint pushed himself off the wall and took two steps closer. “Stay. We can protect both of you.”

  The contempt in her laughter surprised even Goldie as she glared daggers at a face she didn’t want to say goodbye to. “Why? Because I’m a switch?” She took aim again. “Anyway, you're leaving, too.”

  She turned away from the hurt in his eyes as he replied, but only to her first query. “Because it’s the right thing to do. Because you shouldn’t have to run away from people who care about you.”

  Tears clogged Goldie’s throat as she scoffed. “You don’t even know what you’re offering. I would die for her, do you get that?”

  Flint’s words were soft, but clear. “Better than you know.”

  Chapter 22 - Flint’s Story

  Flint’s heart felt squeezed in a vice, watching Goldie pack, preparing to leave and never return. He knew exactly how she felt, what she was facing, and he couldn’t let her go without telling her so. As she bustled around the apartment gathering her and her sister’s stuff, pretending to ignore him, Flint’s story tumbled out like cold water.

  “When I was nine years old, my family was involved in vampire hunting. It had been over a hundred years since anyone had seen a switch, but there were some shifters who still tried to fight the vampires. Sort of an informal resistance, mostly loners scattered around the country, a few motorcycle clubs. My uncle was in on it with some friends of his, and he got my dad involved. Mom went along, too; thought it was important to stand up to evil even if it was a losing battle.

  “My dad and his friends had found a nest, and were trying to decide what to do about it. There were no switches, so the best the shifters could do was cut the vampires’ heads off their bodies and make it as hard as they could for one to find the other. So they were trying to plan how best to do that, but meanwhile none of them thought the vampires would come to us.”

  He rested his shoulders on the wall, tilting his head back and closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Goldie as she prepared to desert him. “We were having a quiet night at home, just playing games and cooking dinner and relaxing. I was closest to the door, so they hit me first when they came in. One of them slashed me across the neck and I went down. I could hear the struggles but I was in shock, and then I passed out. I guess they thought I was dead.”

  The coppery smell of blood filled Flint’s nostrils as he remembered waking up to the worst nightmare he could imagine. His voice sounded hollow to his own ears. “They killed my father, my mother, even my teenage sister, Daisy. I thought for a minute Mom was alive because I saw something move near her, but I rolled her over and found Bryce, all wrapped up in blankets and smiling, like always. She’d fallen over him and kept him hidden, so the vampi-” Flint’s voice broke and he stopped, remembering the flood of relief when he’d found Bryce alive and unhurt. Small, heartsick relief, but better than none at all.

  Goldie was still packing, but she’d slowed to a crawl as she listened. “Mom had told me that if anything happened to them I was supposed to get to Nantahala and my uncle Bruce’s house. That he’d take care of me.”

  “So that’s what I did. I packed up my baby brother and as much food as I could carry for a journey that I had no idea how to make. I was nine. If Instinct hadn’t guided me, we would both be dead. By the time we showed up in Nantahala it was almost three months later and I was nearly dead from the wound on my neck. My uncle had been killed the same day as my family was attacked. Also by vampires. There was no one left.”

  Flint could still taste the visceral fear that had shot through him when he learned his uncle was dead. He had had no idea what was going to happen to them, wasn’t even sure he was going to live, and had almost broken under the terrible weight of failing Bryce. “Molly and Hernando took us in, raised us. Jameson was an uncle of sorts. We had a good life, considering.”

  By this time Goldie had gone still, her back to Flint as he poured out his heart without any hope of success. “So please believe me when I say I know exactly what I’m offering, Goldie. I would die to keep you and Darby safe.”

  Finally she turned to look at him and Flint flinched at the sadness in her eyes. Whether she believed him or not, she still believed she was going to have to leave, and he was going to have to let her. But not today, dammit. “Please. Give me a chance. I promise I won’t let you down.”

  He saw the moment she relented, the way her shoulders slumped as the weight came off, however temporarily. “We’ll see how it goes. But someone has to be with her all the time. Promise me.”

  Flint couldn’t get the words out of his mouth fast enough. “Promise. Every second. Now c’mere.” When he pulled at Goldie’s hand she didn’t resist, but melted into his arms and against his whole body like she was made to be there. For a few breaths Flint could only hold her close, thankful he got the opportunity again for however long it lasted, and let the bright green of her lively herbal scent fill his head. Then Goldie tilted her face to meet his gaze, and all he could think about was putting his lips on hers, breathing her in as deeply as he could while he still had the chance.

  He kissed her. Old plans fell away. New plans took their place.

  The sound of the front door opening startled her. Goldie pulled away from Flint’s arms as Darby rounded the corner with attitude blazing. “Now what, Goldie? Seriously, if we didn’t win the lottery, you must have lost your damn mind. I was working!”

  Bryce’s merry laughter carried down the hall. “Give ‘em hell, Pinkie Pie.”

  Goldie blu
shed and glanced at Flint, then her sister. “Yeah, sorry, false alarm. Your stalker delivered another letter, but Flint convinced me we don’t have to run out of town just yet.”

  Darby arched one perfectly-drawn eyebrow in his direction. “Bless it.”

  Flint wasn’t sure what that meant, and he didn’t care. Not even Darby’s sharp tongue could cut him tonight. “I know what it’s like having a crazy roommate.” He winked at Goldie and was surprised to see the warmth in her face when she smiled at him. Almost adoringly. He liked it. Would do anything to see more of it.

  He held her gaze for longer than necessary, his emotions jumbling in a way he wasn’t used to. When she looked away, he knew something he hadn’t known a moment before. He was all-in. Not just for The Cause, but for her, for Goldie, and what he suspected they could be together.

  Now if he could just find her Resonant, he could prove to himself that he deserved her.

  Chapter 23 - Hit The Trail

  Flint zipped up his suitcase and looked around his basement room at Resperanza for anything he’d missed. After Goldie’s scare yesterday he had no intention of spending another night away from her. He’d slept in his clothes last night at the duplex and was just here to get a few days’ worth packed before he headed back. The daisy pin on his dresser caught Flint’s eye and he considered packing it up with his clothes, taking it with him. Nah. He’d be back.

  He carried the suitcase into the hallway and almost ran into Jameson making his way out to the garage. The Keeper zeroed in on Flint, glancing at the suitcase. “What’s up? Where you going?”

  Flint knew he had to tell, but he wasn’t sure he wanted Jameson to know how serious things had gotten between him and Goldie. He didn't want his friend assuming Flint's plans had changed when even he wasn't sure just how. “Back to the duplex for a while. The switch’s roommate has a stalker giving them some trouble and I told her I’d handle it.”

  Jameson looked sharply at Flint. “Dario just got a call from Goldie.” Flint’s muscles tensed. What the fuck? Only reason Flint knew of for Goldie to be calling the cops was the one he’d promised to protect her from. He started towards the garage, ready to plow through whatever roadblocks stood between them. Jameson’s voice brought him up short. “But not about that.”

  Flint stopped to listen, but his eyes were unfocused, his mind on how quickly he could get to Goldie once Jameson was done talking. Then he realized… Jameson wasn’t talking. Flint marshalled his wandering thoughts and met his old friend’s eyes.

  J was waiting with a hard but patient expression, the same one he’d used when Flint was an angry teenager, prone to aggression when he dwelled too long on what he’d lost in the past, not to mention the things he’d secretly committed to giving up in the future. He hadn’t been fourteen when Jameson introduced him to sparring and other healthy avenues for getting his anger out, hoping to delay the day when Flint left them all to exact his revenge.

  The light glinted off the salt-and-pepper scruff on Jameson’s jaw. “‘The switch’, huh? Subtle.”

  Flint’s glare turned to an embarrassed grimace. “Come on, J. What’s the word from Dario?”

  Jameson went serious. “Goldie called to make a report on our missing waitress, Brittany Whitacre. Seems Brittany’s little brother is one of the kids Goldie sees for speech therapy. During their session today the kid disclosed that his sister and her boyfriend fought about going to Cove Springs on their little getaway. And given where the boyfriend’s body washed up, I think it’s a good idea to go out there and have a look.”

  A heavy weight settled on Flint’s chest. Cove Springs? What the actual fuck? Another fucking wrinkle.

  Jameson continued. “We know vampires are involved. Cora’s out bouldering with Lynessa and Shiloh, I can’t even reach her. I’m on my way to the duplex to ask Goldie to come with me.”

  A low growl started in Flint’s chest. Wasn’t nobody taking Goldie where there might be vampires without him. Jameson shot Flint a glance that was at once warning and soothing. “Chances are nothing will happen, but if that fucker has a bloodblade and I have to protect Brittany…”

  Flint’s head bobbed in a nod as Jameson trailed off. It was a fucked-up twist when the best protection shifters had against bloodblades were the women they were supposed to be protecting, but what could they do? This was reality. But still. “I’m coming with you. I’ll get Goldie and meet you at the turn-out by the old stream bed. We’ll walk in together.”

  * * *

  Flint jogged to the Rover and pushed the speed limit all the way to the duplex. When he knocked on Goldie’s door and she opened it with that sweet grin on her lips, Flint couldn’t resist giving them a soft kiss. Her soft smile when he pulled back made it hard to resist going further. Get it together, horny bear. “Thanks to your tip, Jameson and I are about to head to Cove Springs to look for Brittany. Wanna come?”

  He’d expected her to take some convincing, but to Flint’s surprise Goldie’s grin became a subdued smile and her scent flashed along with her shamrock aura. “Yes, actually, very much so.” She took a few minutes to change into jeans, a t-shirt, and the same frayed canvas sneakers she’d worn on the river tour, then met Flint on the porch.

  In the car, he reached across Goldie’s legs to open the glove box and pull out a steel survival knife he kept there, still in its sheath. He watched Goldie carefully as he handed it to her. “Here. Just in case something comes up, you should be armed.”

  Bryce had blabbed to Goldie and Darby yesterday about finding Brittany’s boyfriend’s body at the BBOC, and of course they had both been horrified. But it wasn’t until later, when Flint had told Goldie in private that the kid had been killed by a vampire wielding a bloodblade, that she’d grasped the full gravity of the situation and the dangers they faced. She held the knife gingerly in her hands for a moment, staring silently down at it as they started on their way. Then she took a breath and strapped the weapon to her belt as Flint drove them deep into the forest.

  When Flint pulled up to the turnout which was the furthest they could go with 4-wheel drive, and parked behind Jameson’s truck, spotting him fifty yards down the path and toting a first aid pack, Flint’s guts rolled. Cove Springs was not safe.

  Flint and Goldie ran to catch up and the three of them set off at a steady pace through steep terrain, staying on the well-cleared path for almost an hour before Jameson broke off and started pushing through the underbrush to a hidden path.

  Flint brought up the rear, perfectly happy to pass the time watching Goldie’s short but shapely legs at work. Once she tripped and he caught her before she hit the ground, her scent turning aroused and rich as she thanked him. After, he gave thanks he hadn’t bounced off another bubble. That magic didn’t play. It had bounced him away, same as it had that dark wolf. Shouldn’t shifters be immune to a switch’s magic?

  “Hey J,” he called. “You see many red wolves in the forest?”

  “Not usually. They mostly live out at the coast.”

  “Yeah, but you ever seen one attack a...” He looked at Goldie. “A human?”

  “Nah, they wouldn’t do that.”

  Goldie looked at Flint. Flint looked at Goldie. He hadn’t thought so either, had never heard of a lone red wolf - small wolves who roamed wild in only one place on earth, North Carolina - doing what that one had done the day before.

  Another hour passed before they began to hear water rush at some unknown point in the distance, seeming to come from everywhere, as the noise bounced off the thick canopy of trees above them. Flint kept his eyes and ears and nose and senses open, Goldie’s safety his only objective. Jameson could take care of himself.

  Goldie sounded nervous when she spoke, but not as much as he would have thought. “Everyone keeps saying this place is dangerous. How dangerous?”

  Jameson spoke over his shoulder as they kept moving ,single-file on the trail, thorns grabbing at their pants and shoes. “There’s a whole story about this place. Want to hear it
?”

  Goldie did.

  “I’ve always known it as Cove Springs, but I found out from Carick it used to be called Coven Springs.”

  Flint faltered. Oooh, he hadn’t known that, and what would Goldie think of it? She seemed remarkably open to him and anything related to The Cause today.

  She didn’t say a word, so Jameson went on. Flint couldn’t see her face.

  “Switches have lived in Nantahala for centuries, right alongside the indigenous peoples, though Carick says some switches wandered like gypsies, too. But as Nantahala got more crowded, more humans around, they had to cover up their magic. They dropped the ‘n’ from the name and that was that, especially after the Reckoning and there was nobody around to complain.”

  “The legend the Cherokee told about the Spring, I always heard it called ‘How Catfish Lost His Scales’. They say that catfish used to be like other fish, silver scales, swimming free, reflecting the rays of the sun that penetrated the top of the water. Then one autumn, as Mother and Father Catfish were swimming upriver on their way home for the winter, five sisters offered the spring as a resting place. Mother and Father Catfish happily agreed and swam into the spring, where they found more insects and snails than they could ever eat. The sisters invited Mother and Father Catfish to stay through the winter, to eat their fill, and again they agreed.”

  Flint had heard this story before, from both Jameson and Hernando. Jameson was older than Hernando by more than seventy years, though he looked much younger, but in story-telling the two men were equally rich. During his childhood, he and Bryce had heard many legends about the Great Hunters, the legendary ancestors of every shifter fated to The Cause.

  Flint kept one eye on the trail and one on Goldie’s footing as the way got thicker and the going got tougher. Jameson wasn’t even breathing hard.

 

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