Wynter's Horizon

by Dee C. May

  “She cared enough to save her friend. Put herself in danger while she was at it.” I thought about what she had mumbled.

  Quinn drained the rest of his beer and grabbed my empty glass. He disappeared inside momentarily then returned empty-handed. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We didn’t talk as I turned the Jeep onto the highway. I could hear him humming to a Rolling Stones song as I drove and knew he was watching me out of the corner of his eye.

  Finally, I could take it no more. “What?”

  He shook his head and smiled slightly. “I was just wondering if you wanted to retract your statement about the whole not-wanting-to-get-laid thing.”

  “Very funny.”

  He kept going as if I didn’t understand. “She definitely knew her elbow from her ass.”

  “Shut up,” I growled. He didn’t press me further, but I could see him smiling broadly now, knowing he had found a sore spot. He kept glancing at me then back out the window. I didn’t want to discuss it. She had made my heart jump a little, my stomach tighten, my jaw clench with desire—but these were things I could ignore. I was better alone. Always had been, and some blond wouldn’t make me lose my way now.

  ***

  The road twisted and turned. We were one of the few cars out, and I made the most of it by flying down the highway, cutting the trip’s time in half. I turned down the gravel driveway and coasted to a stop. I had inherited this house years ago from an uncle on my mother’s side—a two-bedroom cape on the outskirts of Newport. It was built at the end of a long, mostly deserted road and an even longer driveway. The house sat on three acres, but the adjoining preserve had over one hundred. At the south end, it connected with the beach and ocean. Weathered and worn from years of wind and salt water, the house’s clapboard shingles were a faded gray, and what had once been white trim was now a dingy yellow. I didn’t care what it looked like from the outside. It gave me privacy and put me close to the water. Two things I loved.

  I could hear the waves lapping at the beach. I headed inside to drop my stuff from the trip. I’d remodeled it after I’d been discharged, putting in a third bedroom and bathroom in the basement along with a pool table and new large flat screen. I had meant it for me, assuming Quinn would move back with Sara. Near-death experiences had the effect of giving one perspective, but Quinn, in true form, surprised me and stayed. I let him have it so he and Sara could have privacy when she came to visit. It was hardly a sacrifice since the upstairs bedrooms were just as roomy and nice.

  The first floor was my favorite with its rustic kitchen, open living room, and deck that overlooked the woods. I had been coming here for years whenever I got leave. It was the only place I called home.

  I paused in front of the dresser to unload my pockets, including the bulging envelope of money. Quinn had been right. There was no point in brooding. I had turned a good profit in two days, despite being out of commission for several months. The bar had been different, but change was good and we thrived on it. That was our profession, killing bad guys, rescuing people, overturning corrupt governments, and us, supernatural beings, moving through chaos and trying to make sense of it all.

  I spread my change on the dresser, picking up the coin when I found it. Though the edges were a bit bruised and bent, the writing was still clear. I knew a coin collector would give me decent money for it, but I couldn’t part with it. It was the one thing I had from that night so long ago. I flipped it through my fingers and thought about the blond, Wynter. There was something about her, something more that I was missing, but like turning a doorknob with oil on your hands, I couldn’t get it to stop slipping away. Screw it. I went to find Quinn to have a nightcap on the deck.

  Chapter Eight

  Wynter—Campus

  The taxi pulled up to the dorm, and we all piled out in a drunken mass of legs, arms, phones, and jackets. Hailey swayed into me and almost knocked me over as we decided where to go.

  We headed off to south campus where most of the late night parties happened. I fought the urge to turn around and go to bed, thinking of my warm fluffy plaid comforter under which I could snuggle. My body ached in a few spots from my run-in with the drunk, especially my shoulder. I pushed the pain out of my mind and wondered if I might see Jason out. In person always went better than texts or phone calls.

  It was a nice fall night, chilly but clear and bright with stars. I pulled my leather jacket around me tighter, wishing I had worn a heavier sweater. Water bordered the campus on the south side, and the wind liked to pick up and whip across the athletic fields between the dorms where we headed.

  Hailey laughed with Galen and Julia about something that happened at the bar. I turned around, trying to distract myself from the cold. “What are you guys talking about?” I asked.

  Julia grinned. “The two guys who came outside after you and Missy. Hailey thinks the tall one was hot.”

  “He was,” I called over my shoulder, trying to clutch the two ends of my jacket closed. I grimaced. My palms were rough from hitting the pavement and made it almost impossible to keep a grip.

  “I think he looked like Zac Ephron.” Galen offered.

  Julia half shrieked, stumbling a little but catching herself before really losing her balance. “Seriously? He’s way taller and bigger than him. More like … that new James Bond.”

  “Yes, but he has the dark hair and the blue eyes. Always an excellent combination,” Annie chimed in.

  “He had gorgeous eyes,” Julia added. I thought about the other guy, the one who had given me back Abby’s stick. He was good looking in a kind of reserved and rugged way, medium build maybe six foot, with dirty blond hair. I had caught him watching me more than once from across the bar.

  “The other one was hot, too.” I heard Hailey say. I jolted as if she had read my mind.

  “Yeah,” Sophie chimed in. “Epic. In a kind of Ryan Reynolds way.”

  “Ryan Reynolds? I think tougher than that. Someone who’d save you in an alley,” added Hailey.

  “Or a parking lot.” interjected Sophie “Like Taylor Kitsch or Beckham.”

  “I love Tim Riggins.” Julia giggled as she sidestepped off the pavement into the grass.

  “I think he looked like the guy in Terminator,” I suggested, trying not to sound too interested.

  “Ah-nold?” Annie piped up, her voice disguised in a thick Austrian accent.

  “No, not him, the other one. The one that Linda what’s-her-name slept with. That guy. He was hot,” I explained.

  “You need to stop watching movies your brothers bring home. Try watching ones made in this century,” Julia answered dismissively as she pulled open the door to the dorm. We had thankfully reached our destination, as my hands were minutes from becoming ice blocks. I ignored her comments. She was teasing me, I knew, for being the baby in the family by so much time. I thought of the way that guy had looked at me, how he smiled, with one side up and one side down, like he had some secret he wanted to share. My stomach jumped just recalling it.

  “Well, whoever he looked like doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t kick any of them out of my bed.” added Sophie. The conversation broke up as the music from the party drowned us out. I headed for the keg, scanning the room for Jason, but he was nowhere to be seen. Two beers later, and too many drunk freshmen, I was more than ready for bed. Jason hadn’t shown up, and I’d heard someone say he left with some sophomore named Leslie. The thought turned my stomach.

  Annie and I headed home, leaving Julia behind with Brian, her boyfriend, and dropping Sophie, Galen, and Hailey at their dorm along the way. The wind was just as brutal on the walk home and we took the steps of our dorm two at a time, whipping the front door open as fast as we could. We split up in the stairwell. Annie’s room was on the fourth floor, and I lived on the third next to Julia, when she wasn’t staying at Brian’s.

  I opened the door to my room, instantly feeling lonely. As an upperclassman, I was guaranteed a single room—great for studying and privacy, but
having a single and no boyfriend to sleep over hammered home the fact I was alone. I plopped on the bed, dragging my comforter around me. That guy had called me a whore. I shivered. Did I show it?

  I checked my phone, but I had no new emails or texts. I wondered what Jason was doing. I knew I needed to get over him, but every time I tried, Jason returned, promising things would be different, telling me I was the only other one who got what he had been through and reminding me that he was the only one who understood me. Only he knew what happened. I kept thinking that our past, our friendship, and the fact that we could screw like no others, would convince him to stay with me. And if I could keep him, then maybe the hole that felt like it might eat me up would go away.

  I pulled a bottled water from my small fridge, swallowing Tylenol from the giant economy-sized bottle on my dresser. I dropped my clothes on the floor, threw on my nightshirt and shorts, and hoped my hangover wouldn’t be too bad in the morning.

  Chapter Nine

  Freedom

  She patiently watched the nurses shuffling through the paperwork laid out in front of them. This was her moment. She had waited for it for ten long years, suffered through countless group meetings and even more individual sessions. She’d taken the medicine they gave her dutifully, always aware of the ticking clock, knowing each day might bring her closer to her goal. A year ago, she had almost given up hope of ever gaining her freedom, contemplated telling those in charge to screw themselves and reveal her true insanity, when suddenly there was a whisper of budget cuts and lack of money. She conformed her behavior and, sure enough, in just a few weeks she was one of several slated to be let go. Not enough money to keep them. They were suddenly all declared “healed.” She stared at her chart across the counter. The nurse in charge wrapped her pudgy arms around it, dragging it closer. It didn’t matter; she had read it already.

  They had determined her “fit for society” as long as she lived in a halfway house, got a menial job, and took her meds. The nurse’s mouth was moving rapidly, talking to her. Good god, what could she be saying? She was so tired of people half as smart as she telling her what to do. This one looked like she had an IQ of a mouse.

  “Lilly, do you understand, dear?”

  She stared at the nurse’s ugly eyes. Brown like the color of dirt. No specks of anything else, nothing to lighten them or give them depth. Ugh. She, on the other hand, had the most beautiful eyes. She knew it. Blue like the color painted on Chinese vases. That’s what her mother always told her. And Beck. He had told her how nice her eyes were too. Anger roiled through her stomach. Not now, she told herself. There was going to be plenty of time to put her plan in place.

  “Hold out your arm, dear.”

  She did as she was told. That’s all one had to do here to get good marks. Eat, drink, pee, listen to the doctors, contribute in therapy and pretend. Pretend she didn’t see people they didn’t. Pretend she didn’t hear voices telling her to annihilate everybody. Pretend. That’s what she was good at. She watched her wristband fall onto the counter.

  “There’s a bus outside waiting to take you to your new home.”

  She nodded, complacent, like she knew what they wanted and, picking up her small bag of clothes and personals, she walked through the doors and onto the bus. Almost there. She had Watson’s letter in her pocket. She was going to meet him as soon as he got back. And then she could start really healing, make the others pay for what they did to her. She settled into a window seat and stared out at the pavement. Her stomach did a little dance. She couldn’t wait to kill them all.

  Chapter Ten

  Beck—Bothered

  My sleep, when I finally did succumb, was violent, mostly of the past—dead bodies interspersed with images from the bar, the blond flitting throughout it all. I had not fallen into a restful sleep until after six a.m., shortly before my alarm went off. I had hit the snooze button a few times, trying unsuccessfully to turn the damn thing off, then lost my temper entirely. As I dragged myself from the bed close to noon, I passed the broken carcass of my alarm clock in the corner of the room. At least I hadn’t put a hole in the wall. I showered and dressed in the hopes of feeling better.

  I flipped on the coffee machine and went downstairs to see if Quinn was up. Wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt, he lounged in a chair, watching some team whose name I didn’t recognize crush Manchester United. Perhaps I had been in the States too long.

  “Working hard, I see?” I asked sarcastically.

  If I bothered him, he didn’t seem fazed. “R and R is very important for the mind. I’m healing past traumas.” He sat up as a Manchester United player shot for the net and missed. “God, I miss Beckham.”

  “I’m going to work through those files Drew gave me.”

  I watched a few plays before getting up.

  “Well, you go be detective boy, and I’ll be here holding down the fort.” He raised a coffee mug in my direction.

  “That’s useful,” I answered, jealous of his ability to spend hours in front of the telly. I headed upstairs.

  “Someone has to do it. Did you sleep well? Dreaming of the blond?”

  I ignored him, stifling the urge to throw something at his head. Quinn knew my difficulties sleeping, the nightmares that woke me up. Worse since Colombia.

  I worked for a while, trying to push through the evidence I had brought from New York. After an hour or two, though, my mind began to wander back to the bar and Wynter. Finally, when the daylight waned, I gave up the pretense of work and headed down to see if Quinn had moved. Now dressed in jeans, he lay on the couch watching an old episode of Angel.

  “Bloody hell, what are you doing?” I asked, collapsing into a chair. He didn’t move or look my way, his attention riveted on a fight scene.

  “I love the demons in this show. Besides, I’m picking up tips on fighting. That way I can really kick your ass. How’s the work going?”

  “It’s not. And good luck kicking my ass. I’m faster than you, even with my bum leg. And you’re getting fighting tips from a vampire.”

  He didn’t miss a beat, muttering something about luck having nothing to do with it, and then, not even dragging his gaze away from the screen, he asked, “How bad?”

  “What?”

  “How bad do you want her? It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you struggle with wanting something, much less a girl.”

  I contemplated leaving indignantly, but it was ridiculous to pretend. “Bad,” I mumbled, hating to admit the fantasies that had been plaguing me for the last hours. I paused before divulging the rest. “And … I think I’ve seen her before.”

  Quinn sat up, his eyes now focused on me. “You’ve seen her before? Not with me, you haven’t. I’d remember her, even if she isn’t my type.”

  Bugger. So much for the theory that he had been with me. “Really? You’ve never seen her?”

  He shook his head, staring at me, waiting.

  “I just have this feeling that I somehow know her,” I tried to explain. I shrugged, uncomfortable. I didn’t have anything more, just a weird feeling.

  Quinn smiled and relaxed back down. “How many times did that asshole punch you in the head before he electrocuted you?”

  “Too many.” I had a scar running down my cheek that proved that. Maybe there was a connection. I wasn’t making sense. It was bad enough being attracted to this girl without this other niggling feeling. “Maybe it’s just sex and its getting me all riled up.” But then why did I know her name?

  “Probably. How long’s it been? Months?”

  “Piss off.”

  “You should try using some words from this country”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If we’re staying permanently, you might try to blend in more. They use words like ‘rule and rock’ for cool, and ‘whatever’ to tick someone off. And then ‘seriously’ as a question. Like seriously?” His voice rounded up in an exaggerated manner.

  “Bloody hell, I thought they only use acronyms.”
I said, exasperated. It was hard to keep up with the trends, especially here in the States, but I had no desire to live in England anymore.

  “Apparently, they use both. We’re just old. YMTM.”

  “What?”

  “You more than me.”

  “Sod off,” I growled on my way back up the stairs.

  “Whatever. Hey, are we going back and cruising the university kids tonight? ‘Oh, Wynter, I’m so turned on by you.’” His voice was annoyingly high. I slammed the door at the top but that didn’t stop him. “‘I looove you, Wynter with a Y.’” I froze on the way to the microwave, hand wrapped around another cup of coffee. The memory wavered and then cleared. Sunny, blue sky, a beach. And Wynter, smiling at me as she backed up. Safe travels, Wynter with a Y. My stomach jumped, and the image disappeared. How was that possible? I slid the cup into the microwave, staring at the way it went round and round, trying to remember more. Nothing else came except the same picture of Wynter and the beach. Smoke rose up off the coffee, and I flipped the door open to the microwave, carrying the steaming mug outside.

  Maybe Quinn was right about my head. The sun slipped behind the horizon, painting it pink and orange. Frustration tied with worry churned in my gut. I was used to remembering almost everything; that was one of my enhanced powers. But, ever since Colombia, things had been upside down. The doctor at the hospital had said PTSD. Of course, he didn’t know the whole truth. The stuff that only a few knew.

  If I admitted anything to Quinn, he would think I had gone completely over the edge. I shook my head to get rid of her image. I didn’t need these strange memories, this nagging feeling, or the lurking desire to kiss this girl. Life was complicated enough. I took a sip of coffee. I needed to get rid of this girl from my mind. The problem was I had no idea how.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wynter—Thinking

  Sunday morning after brunch, I headed out for a run. As I stretched on the dorm steps, Mark came up from behind, bumping my knee in an effort to displace me. I didn’t budge, flipping him a smile over my shoulder as I slid one leg back and the other out, flexing my hamstring. Annie, Julia, and I had befriended Mark and his crowd when they were freshmen and we were sophomores. He was a nice guy, not drop dead gorgeous but cute and athletic, with crinkly blue eyes and a mop of blond wavy hair. A lacrosse player like Jason, I’m sure he heard all the team rumors, but he had never seemed to let it bother him. He dated a junior who lived on my floor, and he always stopped by to chat when my door was open. He paused on his way up the steps.