Beast in Me (The Divination Falls Trilogy)

by Marsden, Sommer

  ‘Looks like it,’ Trace said. Only Cam felt the brief and instantly repressed shiver work through the wolf. ‘It was hard to get a lot of details up close and personal. You know, like maw kind of up close and personal. I do believe that before Cam struck with his lucky lightning bolt, I was holding onto one of those tusks for dear life. It’s hard to shove something in your mouth when it’s holding onto you.’ He tried to laugh but it died on his lips.

  Cameron squeezed his hand again and studied another picture. ‘This one is different. The thing in this sketch shows something with wings and talons and, if I’m not mistaken, a stinger.’

  Eliot moved up to study it. ‘I remember Batts saying something weird had happened after the first quake. But when I asked …’ She shrugged. ‘He blew it off. Said it was settled.’

  ‘So he saw his own bleed-through and then visited the falls and found –’

  ‘His lord,’ Sheriff Slaughter growled.

  Cam’s head shot up and Eliot hurried to the sheriff. ‘What do you mean?’ Cam asked.

  ‘His lord,’ Eliot echoed, pointing to a sketch.

  ‘Jesus,’ Trace said. ‘Batts was always a little …batty.’

  ‘Eccentric. Creative,’ Eliot said with a sad smile. ‘I had even forgotten what an artist he was.’

  At first glance he just saw the cluster of drawings on one wall. But when Cameron really looked around they were peppered everywhere. A sketch there by the lamp. One taped to the window sill. A sketch done directly on the back of one window blind. A huge one painted in what appeared to be oils. It was a red, black, and ochre rendition of the monstrosity that had tried to eat his lover.

  He shivered and Trace shocked him by curling an arm around Cameron. ‘I mean, how do you fight something like this?’ Cam breathed.

  ‘I don’t know, but you’re not the answer. Not any more,’ Trace growled. There was no room for argument in his voice.

  But I am the answer. Somehow …

  Cam left that part unsaid. No reason to fight. He felt he was right, but hoped he wasn’t.

  Eliot’s gaze found him and he felt Luke watching him too. That alone told him he was the answer. They felt it as surely as he did. He just had no idea how he – a man who had basically no control over his “gift” – could help them.

  ‘It speaks to me all day,’ Slaughter said.

  They all looked his way, curious. The sheriff pointed to the wall and said, ‘Notes.’

  ‘What? He’d lost it,’ Luke said. ‘And I just referred to him in the past tense.’ The empath ran a hand through his thick hair, making it stand on end.

  ‘Because he’s gone,’ Eliot said, bending to touch a T-shirt folded atop a basket of clean laundry. ‘We can feel it. Batts isn’t here any more.’

  Slaughter cleared his throat and resumed reading. ‘It speaks to me all day. It calls me in my dreams. I take it gifts – offerings. It’s of the water just like me. We’re brothers. Not in form or in strength. He’s bigger than me, stronger than I could ever hope to be. He is my Lord and I bring him whatever I can, willing to give him anything. Everything.’

  ‘Well, that’s peppy,’ Tryg snarled.

  ‘Jesus. He was feeding it, it sounds like,’ Luke said. ‘And then …’

  ‘It ate him,’ Trace said. ‘Guess it started feeling peckish, because then it tried to eat me.’

  ‘Don’t remind me,’ Cam said.

  ‘So I guess we need to get the whole damn town together,’ Slaughter said. ‘The able bodied ones at least, and tell it like it is. Then we need a game plan. Magic isn’t working. We keep having the tremors.’

  ‘They’re from him,’ Cameron said, nodding to the sketches. ‘He’s making the town shake to open cracks.’

  Slaughter nodded. ‘Every time we tremor we have a new bleed-through. Nothing we’re doing is working. We need all hands on deck and all minds together to figure out what we can do.’

  Eliot stepped up to the wall, so close her nose was almost touching it. ‘He seemed so lonely from reading these,’ she said, her voice breaking a bit. ‘Poor Batts.’

  ‘Yeah, well, if we’d known we could have gotten him some company,’ Trace said. ‘But not this kind. Him being lonely and – no offence – sorta fucking nuts, it seems, has us sharing the town with some company I don’t think many of us really want to have. The kind of company that looks at us and sees one big smorgasbord.’

  ‘This is all from Malus being here when we arrived,’ Luke said, softly.

  All eyes turned his way. Cameron watched Tryg pull him in and wrap a protective arm around his waist. ‘Don’t go that way, Rabbit. That band of loonies was here before us. We simply showed up after the fact.’ The lion sounded frustrated and sad.

  ‘And you helped us get rid of them,’ Eliot piped in.

  ‘Maybe I could go,’ Luke suggested. ‘After all, I was in the falls when my throat was cut. I have some of its energy in me –’

  ‘No fucking way,’ the lion snarled. ‘We’ll have to figure something else out.’

  But as they’d all talked, Cameron had been thinking it over and he thought he knew what needed to be done. He just couldn’t tell anyone. Not even Trace.

  Slaughter was bellowing into the megaphone, ‘I don’t know what we’ll do, but I wanted the town here for two reasons. To witness what it is we are dealing with, and to understand we do feel this is the nucleus of the issue. The germ of the problem, if you will.’

  Cameron watched the townsfolk milling around. Most peeking over the edge into the choppy water that was fed with the swift-rushing falls.

  ‘We also want you all to take this in –’ Slaughter swept his hands toward the falls where the thing lurked. So far it had refused to even show a surge of water as it moved. That made Cameron more nervous. ‘In case you feel you know, instinctively, what we can do. Any questions or suggestions see me or Eliot.’

  More milling about, then Trace was right up against him whispering in his ear. ‘You OK?’

  ‘I’m fine. I’m just … It’s smart, Trace. It’s lying low. It knows we’re here and it’s not showing its hand. It’s one thing for it to be big and disgusting and hungry – and dangerous – but it’s another for it to be intelligent and all those things.’

  Trace grunted, his eyes studying the water he’d been in just yesterday. ‘What a fucking week.’

  ‘Indeed. Last I looked I was rolling down here and still smoking from a lightning strike.’

  ‘Speaking of –’ Trace tilted his head toward the sky. ‘You seem to be … levelling out. If that’s the right word.’

  ‘I guess. It doesn’t just come and strike whenever. But it’s still there.’

  ‘Thank fuck,’ Trace said. ‘Or I’d have been fish food. OK, underwater behemoth food.’ He grinned and gave Cam an affectionate one-armed hug.

  Molly was in the crowd. The woman bobbled along toward Cameron and he couldn’t help but watch her and see it. Ostrich.

  ‘Is she still upset about that chicken?’ Trace asked.

  ‘Yep. Poor woman.’

  ‘How frightening,’ she said before she’d even reached Cam. ‘How terribly frightening. Are you still thinking, young man, that you can help?’

  More than I can even comprehend. Cameron put on a smile and said, ‘I sure hope so.’

  ‘Unfair to lay it all on him,’ Trace said, his voice a shade too gruff.

  ‘Oh, I agree, Trace Robertson. I think we all need to do this together.’ Molly, sounding so proper and formal by using the wolf’s surname, preened slightly, fluffing her dramatic sleeved tunic and brushing invisible debris from herself. ‘I agree. We need to do this as a town. How can one young man fix all this nonsense? If only we hadn’t had that open door policy. If we’d have run them off when they arrived –’

  ‘We have an open door policy to travelling shifters, Molly,’ Trace said. There was more patience in his voice than Cam would have ever expected.

  ‘Oh, I know,’ she said, brushing at his sleeve. ‘
And we need to be that way. We really do. But my goodness, in this instance I wish we’d had more sense and just … broken the rules!’ She threw her arms up.

  Cameron couldn’t suppress a smile and Trace failed too. ‘I know, Moll. I know. I agree.’

  ‘Well, I’m going to wander about and brainstorm. And stay very far back from that water,’ she added. ‘Be safe!’ Her command was one to be obeyed – period.

  ‘What was that?’ Trace asked as soon as she was gone.

  ‘What was what?’

  ‘You hesitated,’ the wolf said. ‘Look, it’s been less than a week since you got here, but I have to say, you’re pretty easy to read. You know,’ Trace whispered directly to Cameron’s ear. It made Cam’s skin feel hot and tight. ‘To the person fucking you.’

  Now his skin was hot because he was blushing. He turned to answer and that’s when the world shook and water flew and someone cried out.

  There was dead silence for barely a heartbeat and then someone yelled. ‘It took him! It took Richard!’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Cameron found he was still shaking. No matter how hard he tried to stop, his body betrayed him and just kept quivering. He’d rushed to the edge right after the man had been taken. Richard Jones was the husband – had been the husband – of the postmistress of Divination Falls. He’d expected, really expected, a bolt to come out of him then. But he’d been too surprised, and possibly somehow too distressed, to have a reaction.

  Maybe the thing in the water sensed him; hell, maybe it smelled him. When he took a step toward the edge even as he heard Trace calling him, damn near commanding him to stop, a tentacle reared up and smacked him down. It had been like face planting against a wall. A slick, wet wall coiled with muscle and gristle. A wholly unwelcome and terrifying experience.

  The thing had moved toward him again. Seeking out his heat and his body with the tip of its appendage. Cameron sat, mortified and shell-shocked, and watched it try to search him out like some blind creature. Until Trace grabbed him under the elbows, hefted him up, and yanked him away.

  Now he sat in the back of Slaughter’s cruiser with a blanket wrapped around him, hair completely drenched and a fine tremor running through his body that refused to leave. No one spoke.

  At the rectory, Slaughter got out, opened the door for them. Trace got out first and helped Cam stand. ‘What are we going to do?’ Trace asked.

  Cameron looked up. The sun had shifted. Most of the day had bled away. Most of the day was now just a memory.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Slaughter said. ‘But for now, no one’s allowed out there and I’m going to go shower and eat before I fall down. Possibly drink until I fall down. I suggest you do the same. Eliot and I have to just sit and think. Nothing seems to be working. Our best bet is to regroup.’

  ‘Call if anything changes,’ Trace said.

  Slaughter nodded. ‘Someone will. Might even be Luke or Tryg. Not sure. We’ve developed our own little fucked-up task force, haven’t we?’ He laughed, but there was worry in that sound.

  Cam sighed and Trace studied him. ‘Yes, we have. I’m gonna get him inside. Like I said, just call –’

  Slaughter gave him a salute and got back in his car. Eliot raised a hand as they drove away.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Trace said, prodding Cam so he’d walk. There was a bit of anger under the surface. Cameron could feel it the way one feels a tiny pebble in his shoe. Not a huge deal but worrisome.

  ‘I’m fine. I’m worried about the whole damn town.’

  Trace grunted. He opened the back door and sniffed. ‘Pot roast. He’s worried too. And don’t you worry about Divination Falls. It’s been here a long, long time and we always end up just fine.’

  Cam shrugged. ‘I feel disgusting.’

  ‘Go take a shower, I’ll check in with Father.’ Trace leant in and kissed him on the forehead. Cameron could feel the stiffness just below the surface – Trace was angry with him.

  He wandered off toward the shower, hoping that Trace would come and take him again. Another encounter that started in the bathroom sounded fine by him, despite his entire body feeling as if he’d been dropped from an airplane.

  ‘He’s mad at you,’ he mumbled to himself. He stripped bare, turned the water on, and put his head in his hands for a minute. Cameron was pretty sure he needed to act, and he was pretty sure he knew how, but he also knew the idea scared him. And that he didn’t necessarily want to.

  The low thrum of thunder could be heard just slightly above the running water. Electricity licked at the tips of his fingers and the heels of his feet. ‘I know, brother, I know,’ he said to the energy at work in him. ‘I know what I have to do, but you can’t blame me for being afraid.’

  He climbed into the shower and started to wash his hair. Even his fingertips on his scalp hurt. Everything hurt. Including his heart.

  ‘Hey there, aren’t you hungry?’ Trace pressed his lips against Cam’s neck.

  ‘I fell asleep.’

  ‘I took a long time.’

  ‘Why?’ Cameron turned to watch the wolf.

  Trace shook his head. His lips were pressed together tight. ‘I took a shower. Father was still cooking. I –’

  ‘You’re mad at me,’ Cam said. He could feel it.

  ‘No. I’m mad at me.’

  ‘That makes no sense.’

  ‘It makes perfect sense if you’re an asshole like me,’ Trace said.

  Abrupt laughter erupted out of Cameron. So sudden he clamped his hand over his mouth. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m laughing. You’re not an asshole.’

  ‘Ah, but I am.’ Trace spread himself out next to Cam. He traced circles and whirls and patterns on Cameron’s skin. Cameron was instantly full of want.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes. I’m angry not at you but at me. I am terrified – it’s the only word for it – that you’re going to go and do something stupid. And get yourself hurt.’

  There was real pain in his voice. Real worry. And Cam felt his throat grow tight with emotion. ‘I will do my best not to,’ he said.

  It was a lie, but it was necessary. While he slept, his thoughts – his fears – had been confirmed. He dreamt of darkness and water and struggle. He dreamt of falling and no air and flailing.

  ‘I can’t lose you now,’ Trace said, blowing out a sigh. ‘You’ve fucked everything up.’

  ‘What!’ Cam half sat up but Trace pushed him down. His bulk settled over Cameron and he kissed him.

  ‘I was intent – 120 per cent sure – of a lone life. Me, myself, and I. No lovers, no real friends – barring Father, obviously – no …’ He hesitated. ‘Nothing more than attraction, and attraction I ignored.’

  Cam’s heart had quickened. What had the wolf been about to say? What had his tongue stumbled over? The same feeling that kept returning to Cam, and he insisted with a shake of his head and a tightening of his heart that he could not, would not, should not be feeling that. Not now. And yet it was there.

  ‘And I did what?’

  ‘You came along and wrecked all my careful plans. I want you around. I don’t want you to leave here. And I especially do not want you hurt. And yet, you’ve bought into this idea that you were sent here by …’

  ‘Great Spirit.’

  ‘Right and you and your lightning.’

  ‘Brother Lightning.’

  ‘Yes,’ Trace said. ‘You think you’re the answer.’

  ‘I do think I am.’

  ‘I disagree.’ Trace pushed a finger against Cam’s lips. Cameron’s cock responded instantly.

  ‘Why do you disagree?’ Cam asked. He sucked gently, drawing his tongue down over the tip so that he felt a resounding tug of arousal in his gut. Somehow sucking on Trace’s finger had given him pleasure. Go figure.

  ‘Because I don’t want it to be true,’ Trace said and kissed him.

  ‘Me either, but sometimes –’

  ‘Shut up,’ Trace said. ‘No more.’

&n
bsp; He rolled fully on top of Cam so they were pressed tightly together. His lips were soft at first, gentle even. But then their tongues touched and Cameron gasped, his cock jerking against the hard cock that was pressed against his – mirroring his arousal. A growl escaped Trace and he kissed Cam harder.

  ‘I want you to know –’

  ‘Shut up. Not now.’ Trace’s tongue slid against Cam’s. His body crushed firmly to Cam’s. Chest to chest, belly to belly, heartbeats pounding away at one another like duelling drums.

  Cameron wound his hands in Trace’s hair and tugged a little. Another growl flew out of the wolf and he kissed a rough path from Cam’s lips to his jaw. He bit him gently and Cam bucked from the sudden sensation.

  ‘Trace,’ Cam started.

  ‘You’re going to suck my dick,’ Trace said, his breath hot on Cam’s ear.

  Cam began nodding instantly. Yes, yes, he would. He would do that. He loved to do that. Just thinking about it had him on the verge of –

  ‘And I’m going to suck yours,’ Trace said.

  Cam’s body went rigid and excitement made his heart pound faster. He was dizzy and wonderful and alight with it. Just the idea had him aching to come. He could feel the wolf smiling against his shoulder.

  ‘I –’

  ‘Is that OK with you, Cameron?’

  ‘I think so.’ His voice sort of cracked and he heard Trace laugh.

  ‘Good. Then take off those pyjama pants and let me into your bed, Little Red.’

  ‘Little Red,’ Cameron snorted.

  Even as he laughed, Trace flipped him on his belly, wedged Cam over his lap, and yanked at his pants. ‘Yeah. Little Red. Because you’re going to be in a minute.’

  Surprise whooshed through Cameron; he almost felt like if he listened hard he could hear it ignite like gas under a match. Fear swiftly followed and then, right on its stark and brazen tail, excitement. His cock felt fit to pound nails, his heart a rogue thing in his chest, thumping so hard he nearly felt ill.

  ‘What?’ was the most brilliant thing he could manage.

  ‘I can’t believe you did that. Rushed in there. What the fuck were you thinking?’ After the words came a brief pause. Silence – like an overheard deep breath – echoed around them. And then the blow.