‘I was going to say, when they’re done with you, you come find me.’
‘Oh, is that –?’
Trace’s purple eyes narrowed and a low growl tore out of him. ‘No. That was a one-time thing. That was … I shouldn’t have done that,’ he snapped. ‘But come find me. I’ll show you where my bleed-through happened.’
Cameron swallowed his disappointment. He didn’t even want to allow himself to feel the regret that filled his centre. ‘Oh –’
That was as far as he got when Sheriff Slaughter and Eliot came running up. ‘Did you feel it?’ she asked.
‘See anything?’ the sheriff blurted.
‘We … No,’ Cameron said, and he felt more than saw the wolf smirk.
‘You didn’t feel that tremor?’ Eliot yelped.
‘I did. I just –’
‘It was so light,’ Trace interrupted. ‘We weren’t sure we felt what we felt.’
Well, that was a loaded statement, Cam thought. I certainly felt what I felt.
He pressed his lips together and refused to look at Trace. He finally gets contact with another man, a man he actually finds intriguing and handsome and, yes, just plain fuckable, and the guy’s denying the chemistry five minutes later. Is this what wolves were like?
‘Tremor,’ the sheriff said, nodding. He cocked his head and studied them, but at the last minute said nothing, just pressed his lips tight and tried not to smile.
‘I’m off to fix that fence,’ Trace said. ‘See you back at the good father’s home for wayward freaks,’ he said to Cameron and off he went.
Cameron rubbed his forehead hard and tried not to scream. Frustration didn’t come close to covering how he felt.
‘Did the tremor have any significance?’ Then it hit him: when the tremor hit, when he felt as if the earth was moving, the lightning had hit. But he’d been too busy getting his rocks off and so what? So what if he let it be about him for five whole minutes?
He gritted his teeth against his internal temper tantrum and waited for them to explain.
‘It hit and we got a call from up at the Simon place that someone saw a bleed-through.’
‘Tentacles?’ he asked, feeling suddenly exhausted.
‘More like claws and wings.’
Cameron shivered a bit. This was very much like a waking nightmare.
‘But everyone’s OK?’ he ask. When he bent to tie his shoe, a minor shock rolled through his fingers. The wolf had not reacted to the blast from Brother Lightning. If anything it amused him. My God, was there hope for –?
‘Everyone’s fine,’ Eliot said. She cocked her head. ‘Are you?’ His eyes only darted toward the path once, but he’d forgotten, just for a minute, that she was an empath. ‘Oh honey, he’s a hard case. He has a really … terrible background.’
Cameron looked up swiftly. ‘What do you mean?’
She sighed. ‘Not for me to say. Let’s just say, someone he cared for was hurt long ago. He blames himself and he’s locked himself away in that church for over a damn decade. And the Father watches over him. When he called it a place for freaks, he meant himself. He didn’t really mean you.’
‘But I’m a freak,’ Cam said, laughing. He meant for it to sound self-mocking. Instead, it sounded dreadful.
Eliot shook her head. ‘You’re not, and neither is he, for God’s sake.’
‘Back to the tremor,’ Slaughter said. ‘Sorry to be a jerk about it, but –’
Cameron shook his head. ‘No, no. That’s what matters. Do you want to walk me to the closest? Or the first?’
‘The first makes sense,’ Eliot said.
‘When was it?’ He followed them back the way he’d already walked, ducking the same branches, stumbling over the same roots.
‘Not long after the events at the tavern,’ Slaughter said. ‘About a month and a half ago.’
‘Do tremors always come before?’
Eliot looked at the sheriff and something passed between them. She finally looked at Cam and answered. ‘Well, the first time, we weren’t really sure that we’d felt a tremor. We thought it was maybe a low-passing military plane or an explosion out in town – or …’ She shrugged. ‘Something.’
‘But?’ he asked, trying to keep from falling and breaking his damn neck.
‘But every time it happens, we get another one, and they’re getting –’
‘They’re getting stronger,’ the sheriff said, cutting her off. ‘We don’t know, but we’re afraid that’s because the creatures are getting stronger.’
‘Or figuring out how to get in,’ Eliot said.
Chapter Eight
‘We’ll have to drive,’ the sheriff said. ‘Unless you’re up for a super hike. We have a few to hit and then the one that just happened.’ The sheriff led them out of the woods and back over the church property. Father Finn was sweeping the walk and gave them a wave.
‘Be careful out there!’ he called. ‘I’ve said a prayer for you. May the Virgin Mary watch over you.’
In the cruiser, Cameron buckled up. ‘Does he really believe all that stuff?’ he grunted. Organised religion had never served him. Being a freak in the eyes of most and gay to boot did not make a welcoming experience with most organised religions.
‘Everyone has to believe in something,’ Eliot said. ‘Finn is the most non-judgmental man I know. He has his beliefs and is perfectly happy to let you have yours. More than I can say for most humans.’ She snorted. ‘And I am human.’
Cameron nodded. ‘Touché.’
He watched the pretty little town flit by as Slaughter drove them. Everyone stopped to wave as they passed. It was like freaking Mayberry, Cameron thought, but with lions and bears and jackals. He resisted the urge to mutter “oh my!” ‘Where did this first attack happen?’
‘Marjorie Ann England’s antique store, two doors down from the tavern.’
‘What happened?’
Slaughter put the car in gear and cut the engine. He looked over the back of his seat. ‘Why don’t we let her tell you?’
‘It was the darnedest thing,’ Marjorie Ann England said, pouring tea for everyone. She seemed very excited by the company. It made Cameron feel almost sorry for her, considering how he understood the feeling. The craving for contact. What was she? he wondered.
‘An owl,’ Eliot said, not looking at him.
‘Oh my yes. I am,’ Marjorie said to Cameron. ‘And you …’ She tilted her head back and her eyes slid shut slowly, just as he’d seen owls do in nature shows. It was a little freaky and entirely cool. ‘Are not a shifter.’
‘No. I am –’
She listened. ‘Electric. I can hear it sizzling and popping on you. See it if I squint.’ She turned insanely hazel coloured eyes his way and smiled. ‘Now! As I was saying, it was the darnedest thing.’
He inclined his head as Slaughter suppressed a laugh. Eliot grinned at him and then turned her attention to the old woman.
‘I was in here rearranging the collectable salt and pepper shakers when it happened. I heard the rumble. It was the first one, you know. Barely a tickle in the earth, but I knew that something had happened. And then I heard that –’ she twirled one wrinkled hand in the air and Cameron found himself wondering how old she was
‘– slithery dry sound. See, people always think snakes and lizards and tentacled things, I guess, are rather wet. Slimy, I suppose. But they’re actually quite dry. Well, maybe not the tentacle things because they’re usually in water, aren’t they?’ she chirped. She took a sip of tea, pinkie extended. Then she snapped a cookie in half and nibbled at it daintily. When Cameron glanced away, in his peripheral vision, he caught her gobble back the whole thing in one swift motion.
Eliot chuckled and he forced himself not to laugh. Clearly Marjorie Ann wouldn’t have waited for him to look away unless it embarrassed her. Cameron pretended not to notice and was rewarded with a swift and vivid vision of Trace pinning him to that tree, his hand moving up and down hypnotically until Cameron lost himself an
d surrendered to that peak of pleasure. Arousal curled in his belly and no matter how the wolf had acted, he wanted to get him alone again. Plead his case on how well they had connected. Hell, the fact that they had connected without the frying of said wolf was a blessed miracle all in itself.
Eliot cleared her throat and snapped him back to focus. She smiled at him and Cameron felt his face grow hot. ‘So you heard a … dry sound?’
‘Yes, very much so,’ Marjorie Ann said. ‘Like the sound of a calloused palm on a stockinged leg.’
‘Marjorie Ann, that’s quite a description.’ Slaughter laughed.
‘Oh, I read those racy books sometimes.’ She winked. ‘I suppose that’s where I got the image from. But you know what I mean. It was that kind of sound. And I hurried back through the store to make sure I was the only one here. I was 100 per cent certain I was, but I am getting older. I wanted to check myself.’
‘And?’ Cameron asked.
And what kind of accident did the wolf blame himself for? What could have happened to have kept him celibate for so many, many years?
Eliot coughed politely and he focused his attention. It was sort of odd having her basically in his head. She was picking up on his emotions and redirecting him to the present. This must be important, because she seemed very respectful of others’ privacy.
‘And it was in the back,’ Marjorie Ann was saying. ‘Tentacles. The colour of a pumice stone. Isn’t that strange that’s what came into my head?’
Eliot stirred her tea with her ever-present cinnamon stick and winked at him. Cameron smiled, doing his best to focus. Maybe Eliot could tell him what was up with Trace …
She shook her head and set the cinnamon stick on the tea tray for a moment. Cam glanced around the room and, when he did, he caught it again in his peripheral, the flash of Marjorie Ann claiming the stick and gulping it down in one quick motion.
He wanted to gasp, but crushed that urge. He’d have to remember not to set anything important down before looking away. ‘That must have scared you,’ he said, before turning back to look at his hostess.
She smiled, blinking slowly. ‘At first, yes. I had armed myself with a ski pole. Thank goodness it had been close. But even as I tried to figure out where it was coming from, it was disappearing. First it became transparent – almost – then it receded. And poof!’ She shrugged her narrow shoulders and coughed gently.
Jesus, no wonder she’s coughing, he thought. She just ate a stick.
Cameron looked at Slaughter, who was smirking too. ‘This was the first one?’ he asked the sheriff.
Slaughter nodded. ‘As far as we know. No one else reported.’
‘Have you seen it since?’ Cam asked Marjorie Ann.
‘No sir. I have not.’ Another soft cough and she sipped her tea.
‘Ready for the next?’ Eliot asked.
‘Not really.’ He laughed.
Slaughter’s radio went off and he excused himself to take the call. Marjorie Ann showed them around briefly – the store and the store room where the tentacle had been. It looked like a store room now. No cracks, no weak spots, no spooky waving monster appendages. Eliot purchased an antique hook for her house and then they thanked Marjorie Ann for the tea and company and walked outside to find the sheriff.
‘I have to drop y’all off for a bit,’ he said.
‘Why, Sam?’ Eliot asked, touching his arm. ‘What happened?’
Cameron watched the big man’s face colour bright red when she touched him. Did she really have no clue?
‘The Moore twins up the road are at it again. I have to go break it up. Most likely they’re brewing moonshine and have been –’
‘Sampling the wares,’ Eliot snorted.
‘Yes.’
He drove them both to the church and Eliot walked home from there. ‘I’ll try and come back around lunch time or so. We’ll go to the next spot,’ Slaughter called as the cruiser rolled off.
Cam waved and headed inside. He felt like he could sleep for a year for some reason. It had been a lot of day in a very short time. He walked through the cool underground hallway. Something was soothing about being underground; he had no idea what, other than rock was old and rock soothed him. Grounded him.
He shuffled into his room and turned the TV on just for noise. The bed called to him and even though he’d only been up for a few hours, he fell onto it joyfully. Excellent.
Cam put his second pillow over his head, enveloping himself in darkness. His eyes burned from being tired, his mind was abuzz with exhaustion. He’d been railroaded at breakfast, felt up in the woods, and watched an owl in woman form eat a stick of cinnamon. It had definitely been chaos all day, and it wasn’t done.
‘Sleeping Beauty,’ came a voice. Not just a voice. His voice.
Cameron pulled the pillow to the side and peeked out. ‘Hardly.’ He wanted to sound all quick-witted and clever. Instead, to himself, he sounded like a cartoon character who’d been sucking helium.
Trace smiled, and the wolf in him showed through. Cam felt all he could focus on were those teeth. That mouth. That smile.
He walked in and shut the door with his foot. ‘I’m on my lunch break.’
‘Already?’
The wolf shrugged. ‘I eat often and I eat early and, to be honest, I have no actual schedule. I do what needs to be done whenever it needs to be done. Morning, noon, or night.’
‘And now?’ Cameron breathed.
‘Something needs to be done.’
‘What did you do? What are you carrying around?’ Cameron blurted it all out, taking a chance. He wanted what happened with them earlier to happen again. He wanted stuff beyond that to happen, maybe. He hadn’t wanted that – not really – for a long time. But he also wanted to know what this man was carrying around. For some unknown reason, it mattered.
Trace frowned, ran a hand through his dark hair, and eyed the door like he might run. ‘It’s not important.’
‘But it is,’ Cam countered.
‘Look, little boy, there’s a beast in me, remember?’ Trace growled. He took a step forward and then seemed to regret the aggressive move.
‘There’s one in me too, remember?’ Cam replied. ‘It can knock a man off his feet, melt his shoes, stop his heart.’
Trace grinned. ‘Maybe that’s why I seem to like you so much, Lightning Boy. I’ve always liked playing with fire, so to speak.’
‘What happened?’ Cameron asked, sitting up but not moving off the bed.
‘Can’t we just … fuck?’
‘You said no to that earlier, remember?’
‘I’ve reconsidered.’
‘What is it?’ Cam asked. He was never this stubborn.
‘I killed my mate. Happy now?’ Trace’s voice was all anger but his face was all hurt and regret. Cameron felt his heart break for the man.
‘Of course not. But there’s more. There has to be.’
‘I was sick. A sickness that only hits wolves. It comes with a nice raging fever of about 108 or so. And it melts your brain and fucks with your perception and … I was out of my mind. And I killed him. I hallucinated he was coming after me, trying to kill me, so I …’
‘Jesus.’
‘Exactly,’ Trace said. ‘Look, never mind. I’m sorry I bothered you. This was a shitty idea.’ He turned toward the door he’d just kicked shut.
Cameron’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his heart thundered, but he managed to get it out in time. ‘Please don’t go. Trace … Please?’
There was anger on his face when he turned toward Cameron. ‘Why? More wounds you want to pick at?’
Cameron blinked. He wanted to say something but had no idea what it should be. The remark was valid. What gave him the right to pry at someone’s pain? One shared handjob and a few kisses? He shook his head; nothing seemed to cover how bad he felt.
Trace sighed and cocked his fist like he was going to ram in through the plaster wall. He almost did, but at the last moment thought better of
it and diverted the blow to his own thigh. Then he laughed. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said that. I’m sorry I assumed you’d be up for a no strings attached rough and tumble. I’m sorry I just had a temper tantrum like the world’s largest two-year-old. This is a day full of sorry, I guess.’
Cam watched him, still unsure of what, if anything, he could say at the moment. The man’s pain was all his doing. He’d asked questions he had no right to and brought up hurt he didn’t have to experience.
‘You ever have someone who just fucking got you? Understood you and didn’t question you? Made you feel like you were worth something?’
Cameron nodded. ‘My grandmother. She saved me more than once from losing my shit.’ He smiled.
Trace barked out a laugh. ‘Well, that was Anthony for me. He understood me. He wasn’t a wolf or a shifter. He wasn’t anything, he said – but he was. He was an energy worker. He could manipulate your energy. Clear you. Make you go from bogged down to light as a feather. It was a real gift.’
Cameron nodded, but kept his mouth shut. He needed to listen here. He’d opened the door; he had to witness all that walked through.
Trace ran a slightly shaking hand through his hair. ‘He was trying to heal me when I attacked him. I thought he was trying to hurt me. No one was there. My parents were out of my life. No other shifter was near to warn him or to help me. It was me and him and I …’ He pushed his back to the wall, his fingers curling to the textured plaster. ‘I killed him.’ He cocked his head, closed his eyes. ‘And why am I telling you this?’
Cameron shrugged. ‘Because I want to know. And Trace … you didn’t know.’
‘Don’t make excuses for what I did. For me.’
‘But it wasn’t your fault.’
Trace’s voice came down to a growl. In that expulsion of sound Cam could hear the animal in him very clearly. ‘Don’t forgive me my sin. It’s not your fucking place.’
‘I know. But it’s how I feel. Just me. Doesn’t matter at all to you, but it’s what I think,’ Cameron said. ‘It needed to be said.’
For the second time, Trace looked like he wanted to hit him and Cameron almost wished he would. ‘I’m leaving now. Sorry again.’
Beast in Me (The Divination Falls Trilogy) Page 5