Fated, A Timeless Series Novella (A Timeless Series Companion Novel)

by Wiedmeier, Lisa L

  “Then we wish you all the best,” Dex said. “Please call us if you need anything.”

  “Yes,” Lilly said. “We’re always here for you.”

  “I know,” I answered. “Thanks.”

  She patted my arm.

  “Take care, Callon.”

  “You too,” I said. “Safe journey.”

  We made our goodbyes, and then Dex and Lilly headed into the rain. I hung back in the shelter, thinking about the best course of action. It would be easier to watch Cheyenne if I had more pairs of eyes. I was sure Daniel would love to come over; he was getting really bored back home. And it might take time, but I’d find a way to locate Colt, too. Last I heard he was hiking in Ecuador, which would make him almost impossible to get hold of. But I was sure he’d come running when I told him there was a damsel in distress.

  Sighing, I studied Cheyenne’s photograph again. She really was beautiful, with her blonde ringlets and carefree smile. But she was also so vulnerable, with no idea of her heritage or the danger she was truly facing. Keeping her safe from hazards she didn’t know existed was going to be tricky. My work had definitely been cut out for me.

  I shoved the photo in my pocket and strode towards the motorcycle. I was going to have to make a lot of phone calls, and I wasn’t looking forward to arguing with real estate agents and bank managers again after I’d worked so hard to settle down in Montana. But this was an emergency. I was sure I could pull a few strings and make it work.

  Slamming my foot on the kick-starter, the bike engine roared to life. I revved it a few times, then released the brake and rolled out to the road.

  It was time to organize a family reunion.

  The sky was darkening as I rode towards the freeway. The rain had let up, but it was cold and windy, so I couldn’t tear down at top speed. Still, while it was a slow-going drive through the trees and fields, it gave me time to think about our meeting at the cemetery.

  I was still convinced Gene and Alexis weren’t telling the whole truth. Whether they were afraid their information was dangerous, or if they didn’t completely trust me, I didn’t know, but whatever it was, I was determined to get to the bottom of it. I couldn’t quite put Lilly’s comment out of my mind, either. In fact, thinking back, Gene and Alexis had been quick to think up excuses as to how Cheyenne couldn’t be related to Qaysean and Sahara.

  Perhaps too quick…

  Car headlights flared ahead, so I steered to the side of the road to let it pass. No, I was over-analyzing this. If there had been a child of the Kvech line, Marcus would’ve killed them years ago. He had so many spies within the clans, everyone was wary of disclosing information to anyone. And he was making the most of it, trying to force us against one another so he could step in and crush resistance to his rule. And he’d almost succeeded, too, when a traitor in the Laundess clan had laid an ambush and…

  The engine suddenly squealed—I’d pulled too hard on the throttle. Sheepishly I changed gear, but the noises grew worse. The handles started to vibrate, and I cursed. Great; I’d forgotten this old piece of junk could be temperamental in the rain. Before the whole thing spluttered and died, I managed to veer to the road’s edge and stop beneath a group of trees.

  I switched off the ignition, tapping my fingers impatiently. Just half an hour to let the engine cool, and then I’d check it over. Not that I’d be able to figure out how to fix it. Colt had salvaged this thing from a scrap yard a few years ago, and was the only one who knew how to get it working when it played up. Hopefully a little rest would solve the problem. It was still a ways to the highway, and I wasn’t in the mood for hitchhiking.

  As I waited, thunder rolled overhead. The clouds had turned black, and the scent of moisture was thick. I swallowed. It was going to be a total downpour any second. Damn it, why did the truck’s transmission choose last week to fail? I was going to be soaked to the skin.

  Lightning blazed across the clouds, blinding me, and at the same time the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I glanced around the trees, the shadows dancing in my face. A cold feeling welled in the pit of my stomach, and I licked my lips.

  Something was out there.

  Brushing my hair back, I kept a close watch on the branches. The wind and rain whipped through them, and I half-closed my eyes. My ears honed in on the sounds, then filtered through each one. Between the whispering breeze and spitting raindrops, I came across the soft padding of paws, and my jaw tensed.

  It was close.

  Slowly, I stood up from the motorcycle, and swung my leg over. The thunder boomed again, echoing across the fields, and I removed my helmet. One of the bushes flickered, and I spun around to face it. The rain was coming thick and fast now, making visibility next to nothing. I crouched, alert for movement.

  Suddenly a black shape smacked into my chest. Yelling, I was thrown into the bike, and pain screamed through my shoulder as I clipped the handlebar. The motorcycle toppled over, and I cried out as the foot pedal dug into my back. A horrible rotten stench was everywhere, and a heavy weight pinned me down. Snarling, I snatched at the shadow, grabbing handfuls of fur, and threw the creature off.

  It skidded in the mud, a low growl rumbling from its throat. I staggered to my feet, wiping the cut on my face. At first I thought it was a wild animal, but as I peered closer I realized my mistake. Razor-sharp teeth poked from fleshy gums, and coal-black eyes stared me down. I swore, bracing myself against the fallen bike.

  A Tresez!

  Without warning it lunged again, but this time I was ready. I caught it by the scruff of its neck and wrestled it to the ground. We crashed into the mud, and it thrashed and kicked, sending water and muck into my face. I twisted round, trying to hold it down, and its claw grazed my thigh. Ignoring the pinprick, I spread my weight and trapped its head in my elbow, clamping my hands around its jaw. I had to get it immobilized. The position was too awkward, though, and I lost my grip.

  The Tresez bolted free and pounced again, its massive paws slamming into my breastbone. I groaned, the air knocked from my lungs, and crashed onto my back. That disgusting breath was all over me, and I kicked and clawed, fighting to get away. The Tresez howled, and buried its teeth deep into my forearm. I shrieked, flooded with pain as blood began to pour down my sleeve.

  Raw adrenaline took over, and I thrust my knee into its belly. The Tresez yelped, and sank its claws into my leg. Pain was nothing anymore, and I struck out again, listening to the crack as I broke its hind leg.

  The beast backed off, limping, breathing in heavy pants. I wasn’t going to let it escape. Not caring for my own injuries, I threw myself on top of it, digging my hands into its throat and squeezing hard. The Tresez squirmed, trying to bite me again. I had to be careful to avoid the spikes at the back of its neck, which had sprouted out in defense. The rain also made its fur slippery, but I wouldn’t lose my grip this time.

  At last I managed to wrap its head in the crook of my elbow, and I yanked its neck back as far as it would go. A sickening snap echoed in the darkness, and the beast fell limp in my arms, dead.

  Breathing hard, I shoved its body aside and sank onto my knees. I was covered in mud, blood and sweat. Thunder roared again, and the downpour continued, making my clothes cling to me like a second skin. The wind picked up, too, and I started to shiver. Timeless or not, I needed to assess my wounds and get out of the cold.

  I raised my good arm, checking my injuries. My face was swollen and bruised, and my right leg was bleeding. When I tried to move my left arm, I howled—it was pure agony. I could barely move my fingers. That stupid dog had done more damage than I’d thought. But more than anything else, I was angry I’d let it catch me off guard. I’d not been attacked by a Tresez for years; you could smell them a mile off, and their tracks were easy to find if you knew what to look for. It must have used the rain to hide itself.

  My whole body was shaking uncontrollably now, as I struggled to my feet. I couldn’t hang around, and not just because of the weather. Tresez
liked to hunt in packs, and I was in no position to fight a group of them off. But how had they found me? I’d taken all the precautions, used all the safe routes…

  A sudden thought hit me, and my heart skipped a beat. Oh no! What if they’d followed me? Had they tracked the way to the cemetery? Worse, had they overheard what had been said?

  A fresh wave of panic set in, and I clambered to the bike. I had to get away and catch up with Gene and Alexis. It took forever to find my grip—the chassis was so slick with mud. Eventually I hauled the machine upright again, and tried to mount.

  Immediately I fell off; I couldn’t keep my balance. My leg was in really bad shape. It was burning from hip to toe, as if I’d dunked it into acid. But I didn’t have time to sit and wait for it to heal. If the Tresez knew about Cheyenne, then everything was already lost. They’d sniff her out and kill her, just like all the other Timeless children they’d murdered since they’d been cursed to serve Marcus.

  Like hell I’d let that happen!

  Somehow, I managed to grab my phone and Gene’s card from my pocket. It was tough trying to dial the number and hold the card with only one hand, but after making several mistakes, I got the right sequence and pressed call.

  It didn’t connect—there was some problem with the network signal. With some difficulty I tried texting instead, but the message didn’t send, either. Water was starting to run down the screen, so I shoved the phone back into my jacket before it would become waterlogged. Damn it, I needed to warn them!

  My leg flared with pain again, and I winced. Blood coated my torn pants leg and the skin was smeared with grit and stones. The cut itself seemed superficial, yet it was hurting much more than it should have. I was sure I hadn’t broken anything, but when I tried to stand, I couldn’t bear weight through my leg at all. This wasn’t right.

  Unless…

  Clenching my teeth, I ripped open the tear in my pants and raked my finger through the slash. White-hot pain blazed through my thigh, and I didn’t hold back my scream. But it confirmed my fears. Pain or no pain, I needed to clean the wound.

  Blinking back tears, I started to pick out the loose threads and stones. I’d done this so many times to my friends who’d been attacked by Tresez; it was surreal having to do it to myself. My stomach churned, rocked with pain, and I felt saliva pool in my mouth. I had to spit several times, close to throwing up.

  Yet as much as I checked through the cut, I couldn’t see any fragment of Tresez nail. Those were a death sentence, able to kill a human in minutes, and even a Timeless wouldn’t survive if they were left in for long enough.

  Eventually I had to stop; the bleeding had started again, and the dizziness was setting in. With a trembling hand I pressed my sleeve to the wound. I wished I had better light. It was bad enough with all the blood blocking my view. I’d have to make a more thorough check later. Even without the poisoned nails, Tresez wounds were a nightmare, taking much longer to heal than ordinary injuries. It would be hours before I’d be able to walk without a limp.

  Lightning sparked again, and I caught sight of my soiled watch. My eyes widened. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been stranded here. Precious minutes were all that stood between life and death for Cheyenne, and the longer I delayed, the more chance the Tresez would find her before I did. The beasts moved quickly, able to communicate with each other over vast distances, and I was sure the one I’d killed hadn’t been alone. If they’d spotted Gene and Alexis and had begun following them…

  I stumbled to the motorcycle, not caring for the surge of fresh blood that dripped down my leg. It was going to be a rough ride, but I had no time to lose. I needed to get to Gene and Alexis as soon as possible.

  It took much longer than I liked to get my leg over the bike seat, though at least I didn’t fall off this time. I felt my collarbone twinge as I reached for the handles, and I had to pause to fight down the sickness again. You idiot, Callon, why hadn’t you realized the Tresez was out there? Now someone else’s life was at stake, and it would be my fault for not stopping the tragedy.

  Just like with Dad.

  Growling, I cut the thought short. While I sat here moping, I was losing time I didn’t have. I couldn’t fail, not after I’d promised to protect her.

  Just hold on, Cheyenne!

  I thrust my heel down on the kick-starter, and groaned as my leg seized with cramp. The engine spluttered, and I cursed. No, I wasn’t going to be beaten by this piece of scrap metal!

  Gritting my teeth, I kicked down again, my mind reeling from the pain. Thankfully, the motorcycle seemed to get the hint. Quickly I revved it up—if it died again I knew it would never start. The rattle of the pistons were like needles into my leg, and I had to take a moment to brace myself. A good day’s rest would’ve solved everything, but I didn’t have that luxury.

  Steeling my mind, I steered back onto the road, then put my foot down.

  I was struggling to keep my eyes open as I came to the highway. Keeping the bike in a straight line whilst not going insane from the pain in my leg had been quite a challenge, but now my fatigue was catching up. I still had six hours before I’d get to Sagle, maybe longer if the weather changed again. And on top of that, I didn’t seem any better than when I’d left the dead Tresez. The wound in my leg had stopped bleeding, though it didn’t appear to have started healing. The bites on my arm, too, hadn’t improved much, either.

  Odd.

  A sharp prickle across my collarbone made me jerk my head up. That was another thing—why was I so drowsy? I knew some Timeless, like Daniel, still needed six to eight hours’ sleep, however I’d been going fine with an hour or two since I’d transformed. What was wrong with me? Was I really that worried for Cheyenne?

  The highway rolled past, and I crouched lower, hoping to ride faster. The late afternoon sunlight weaved in and out of the brooding clouds, drifting past almost hypnotically. I tensed my bad arm, the pain forcing me awake. I couldn’t stop or sleep; I’d lose too much time.

  Something shimmered up ahead. A large puddle had swamped a dip in the road. It would be too deep to drive through. Swiftly I changed lanes, concentrating to avoid it. However, the road was more slippery than I realized, and my tires screeched. I snatched at the handlebars, trying to steer out of the skid, but the pressure on my leg was too much, and I couldn’t hold it.

  The bike shot out from under me and I crashed into the ground, rolling over and over. My back hit something solid, and I groaned, coughing and spluttering. I’d fallen into a ditch. The bike had done a one-eighty degree turn and was a few feet away. Its headlight faced me, the front wheel still spinning as the engine grumbled.

  Rain pattered against my helmet, and I blinked, hard. Cautiously I raised my good arm and checked my neck. It didn’t hurt, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Next I tested my arm movements, which didn’t seem any worse than before. Lucky.

  I pushed myself onto my hands and attempted to get up, only to shriek with pain. I couldn’t move my leg. I stared at it, wide-eyed. My femur was jutting out at an angle, the shaft visible through the tear in the skin.

  I’d broken it.

  Dazed, exhausted, and numb with pain, I almost gave in and collapsed. This would take half an hour to an hour to heal, and I’d be in no state to drive anywhere. My other injuries still weren’t improving, either, making me worry that it might take even longer. I needed to take a good look at my leg again.

  Thanks to the motorcycle headlight and lightening rain, I was able to see the weeping gash much more clearly. It looked horrible, its edges crusted with blood and grit, and it hadn’t even started to close up yet. But it had been two hours. What the hell?

  The answer came almost instantly. Only one thing would slow down the healing process in a Timeless. And it had to still be sitting in my leg.

  Biting my lip, I grasped the edge of my thigh and crunched the bone back into place. I hollered, not caring who was listening. I knew what I had to do, and it was going to hurt more than anything, but if I
didn’t find that Tresez nail, I’d never get to Sagle.

  Never get to Cheyenne.

  I poked my index finger into the wound and felt along the broken flesh. Fresh blood surged out, and I squeezed the cut. I needed to get as much of the toxin out of my system as possible. My bad arm was clumsy, unable to keep steady, but I didn’t give up. I wasn’t going to move from this spot until I’d removed the nail.

  At last, I found it. A tiny, curved piece of black that could easily have been mistaken for a stone. As I plucked it free, the relief was instant. The burning vanished, and I felt the skin start to mend. However, I didn’t stop, checking the wound again and again, making sure not even a single piece was left behind.

  Once I was satisfied, I wiped my hands on the grass and staggered to my feet. Yes, I could put weight through my leg now, and I didn’t feel so sickly anymore. Still, I knew these injuries would take hours to fully resolve. But at least I’d get to Sagle.

  Snapping the helmet visor shut again, I hobbled to the fallen bike and adjusted the gears. The engine ceased whining, and I set the vehicle upright again. The damage was mostly cosmetic, but I knew Colt was going to kill me. The front plate was dented, the paint scratched off, and there was a nasty tear on the leather seat.

  Sighing, I wheeled it back to the road, then jumped up and kick-started it again. I’d wasted enough time already.

  I could only pray I wasn’t too late.

  The streets of Sagle were quiet by the time I got off the highway. It was late evening, and I clenched my teeth. Despite removing the Tresez nail, my arm and leg continued to throb, and driving was becoming more and more challenging. And even though I’d made good time, I couldn’t congratulate myself yet. I had to find a way to contact the Wilsons.

  I flipped open the visor of my helmet, pulling into the center of town. There had to be a phone booth somewhere. I’d tried my phone again, but the battery had died, and now I was so close to Cheyenne, I didn’t want the signal to be tracked. Calling from a local line would be the safest option, for both of us.