A Light So Cruel (Pioneer Falls Book 3)

by Heather Davis

  Rose smiled and Fawn glanced up from her phone, as if it were the first time they’d heard Skyler admit he liked us.

  “Okay,” I said, feeling my frown totally run out of steam. “So you’re here at least through Thanksgiving, next week. You’ll stay—”

  “With me,” Cooper said, bringing his tea over to the couches. “Got lots of room on the homestead. I could use help with the hybrids. Maybe we can clear out the front acre a little bit, sell all the scrap metal. If you like it around here, this spring we could work on building up my dad’s honeybee hives. Can’t do all that alone.”

  Skyler gave Cooper a thoughtful glance, like he was considering it.

  “Oh! I can help tutor you,” Rose offered. “Get you caught up at school or, you know, if you want to study for an equivalency test and get your diploma that way.”

  Cooper took a seat on the couch’s arm. “Doesn’t sound too bad, sticking around Pioneer Falls, right?”

  “Why would you guys help?” Skyler said, leaning closer to me. “What’s in it for you?”

  I stood up and offered Cooper my place in the armchair. I leaned toward Skyler and said, “Nothing. We’re good wolves. You’ve heard of those, right?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Maybe it was morbid curiosity that led me back to the woods a few days later. The sky was pure white, cloud cover that would probably bring snow or freezing rain later. The air smelled normal for this town, like woodsmoke fire and pulp from the sawmill. The path to the woods was dark, even though it was early afternoon. Bushes and trees cast deep shadows.

  I shivered, still unsure whether or not to go in. As if in answer, a lone raven swooped overhead, landing on the high cemetery fence that bordered the woods. It flapped its wings, settling, its coal eyes never wavering from watching me.

  “Don’t torture yourself,” Morgan said, coming around the other side of the truck.

  “I need to see it. In the daylight.” That felt true. I wanted to see where I’d responded to the fight-or-flight instinct in the most brutal way. I didn’t blame myself and I didn’t feel guilty. Ezra Smith had deserved to die.

  “You said you didn’t want me coming in with you, but I’m not lett—”

  “Fine.” I reached for his hand. “But at a distance. I have to do this alone.”

  Morgan squeezed my fingers, then let me go. I took the path slowly, at a pace that wasn’t fueled by terror but by curiosity.

  Daylight hadn’t made the burn site any prettier. Charred stumps of cottonwoods and willows. Bushes reduced to ash. I ducked the yellow police tape and stepped onto the gray-black dirt. The leafy canopy I’d noticed on my first visit a few weeks ago was gone. Foliage had been blown away or torched, branches fried. There was nothing peaceful or beautiful left.

  I heard steps behind me and turned to see a dark flash—probably Morgan dipping behind some trees. “I’m fine,” I whispered to the woods.

  I walked a little farther toward the spot that I thought I’d been in during the ordeal with Ezra. It was hard to tell, but here the remains of the trunks and branches were black, scorched by the hottest fire—the origin of the blaze, maybe. The rock I’d used as a weapon was gone. Maybe the Smith boys had taken that, as part of their coverup. Maybe the sheriff had it. I wasn’t sure, but she hadn’t asked me about it.

  Once I had my bearings, I turned in a circle, searching for where the ghostly graves had been, where I’d seen the vision of Millicent and Charlie covered with leaves, lying still in death on the forest floor. The scene looked so different without the landmarks of trees. It seemed like this was the place where they’d been. Where I’d dug in the leaves for them, thinking somehow they were real.

  I didn’t know what I expected to find in the fire-scarred grove. Some trace of a higher purpose, maybe. It wasn’t there. Before me was a sad, post–apocalyptic looking stretch of earth. I lifted my forearm to my face squinting against the smoky air, which was finally getting to my eyes. I should go. I should put this all away now, I told myself.

  I heard a soft caw, followed by the flapping wings of a raven alighting in a standing fir at the edge of the burn. “Yeah, thanks for everything,” I muttered, as much to the bird as to the spirit that had used me and then abandoned me.

  More cawing emanated from the surrounding trees, ravens hiding not far from where I stood. A chorus more triumphant than sorrowful. Ravens meant I should go. For sure.

  But then, a column of white light rose from the burned ground. And then colors and shadows formed Millicent, this time not in costume, but in one of the dresses I’d seen her in the old pictures—an A-line skirt, pretty blouse, her hair flowing. This time, her face was beautiful, angelic, not contorted by anger.

  My hands began to sweat. Had she returned for another victim? Suddenly being drawn to the woods again seemed like such a bad, bad idea. I took a step backward, wondering exactly how fast I’d have to be to outrun a ghost. But then, alongside her, another being was forming from the ground. Rising in the shape of a translucent wolf.

  Uncertainty fluttered in my stomach. It couldn’t be Ezra, though he’d been killed in this same spot. Even made of otherworldly light, the wolf was pure white, not gray. Not Ezra. Not evil.

  This ghostly wolf stared at me, his big eyes iridescent, like emeralds reflecting light. And then, as smoothly as a ripple across a pond, his wolf body morphed into a human form—Charlie Walsh. I recognized him, even though he was currently a ghost in the buff. Wait—Charlie was a werewolf?

  He opened his arms to me, reaching out. I thought at first he meant for me to take his hand, but then I noticed something odd on his bare upper arm—welted scars. Parallel scars from claws. He’d been turned. And just like that, I saw the story clearly, unfolding in my mind, as if Charlie was speaking to me.

  He’d been a hunter, but then he’d been mauled during one of their raids on the local pack. As he struggled to come to terms with the curse, he’d befriended Millicent, someone most of the town had branded as a freak, with her strange raven rehabilitation hobby and her undeniable beauty. Covering up his double life, Charlie kept up his membership in the wolf hunting club. Only one man knew the truth about Charlie, the man who’d made sure Millicent and Charlie were buried together, despite the rumors about it being a murder–suicide. The mayor of Pioneer Falls at the time, Mr. Archibald Gray. He’d even paid for the tomb.

  As the story wrapped in my mind, three ghostly ravens, birds made of light, circled above Charlie’s human form. With another ripple, he transformed back into the white wolf, coming to stand at Millicent’s side. One bird landed on Millicent’s outstretched forearm.

  Behind me, I thought I heard Morgan’s footsteps. “Can you see them this time?” I whispered.

  A mist started to rise all around me. I coughed, trying to get a clean breath of air. I turned my head in time to see Nathaniel threading through the trees.

  “Lily!” he called out. “Come out!”

  My heart stuttered in my chest. On instinct, I ducked down behind a charred stump, trying not to freak out. Would he try to hurt me?

  I glanced toward the spirits, but they were walking in the direction of the cemetery. The three ghost birds circled in the air above them. Their caws sounded distant, muted.

  I raised my head a little, trying to sense where Nathaniel was now, but the mist was too dense, restricting my vision to a few yards away. I needed to get back to the truck.

  “Good-bye, Millicent and Charlie,” I whispered. “I hope you can rest now.”

  Charlie turned his white wolf head, his emerald eyes filled with emotion, gratitude. I understood now. He was free. His killing was avenged. And finally, he could walk with Millicent into the afterlife. There was one, it seemed, even for our kind.

  Just then, Nathaniel crashed through a thicket across from the burn. I could make out his arms waving in the mist. A red wool jacket, black-gloved hands, then the rest of him. I ducked down again.

  “You know I wouldn’t have hurt you. My f
ather, he was out of his mind!” he said, raising his head in the mist, probably smelling the air, trying to track me.

  I held my breath, afraid to move.

  Then I heard Morgan. “Lily!” he yelled. “Where are you?”

  “Over here!” I yelled. “But we’re not alone.”

  “I know!” Morgan replied, his voice sounding far off.

  I stood up and found myself a few feet from Nathaniel. My throat went dry. “What do you want?”

  “They arrested Jonah,” Nathaniel said, his voice quavering. “Sheriff was able to match his fingerprints from the Murphy Auto Shop fire and Mr. Pinter’s house to the gas cans in our truck. They figure he set the fire that blazed up our father’s body, too.”

  I exhaled. “Nathaniel, you knew Jonah was capable of that kind of violence. Why are you surprised?”

  “I didn’t say I was,” he snarled. “I’m telling you he’s in a holding cell and I’m going to bust him out tonight. It’s run or die,” he said. “He can’t go to prison for these crimes.”

  “What? You want me to help you break him out?”

  “Not you,” he said, lowering his voice. “You have an inside man at the sheriff’s department.”

  “Oh, great. Is this another kidnapping thing? You take me hostage and use me as leverage to make Dad help you?”

  “No, I need you to ask him to help us.” Nathaniel looked down, shame coloring his cheeks. “I need his help.”

  I almost felt sorry for Nathaniel. I knew that admission, of needing a so-called coward’s help couldn’t have been easy. “And in return?” I asked.

  “We never set foot in Pioneer Falls again,” he said, reluctantly. “Gladys is packing our stuff to leave now. We’ll head east, not Montana this time, but farther, to Minnesota or Wisconsin. Find a small town where we can set up a quiet life. Like the one your father built.”

  “So my dad’s not a coward anymore?”

  Nathaniel bit his lower lip and shook his head. “No. I’d never met a reasonable wolf before.”

  “And your debt with the Portland pack?”

  He held up his hands. “Ezra handled all that. From the threatening voicemails they’ve been leaving us, the bowling alley and the Laundromat go into their hands.”

  “If you leave, you’d be giving up your dream kitchen, your pizza business.”

  “I’d be saving my brother.” His dark eyes were somber, serious. I believed him. “I can’t lose him. It has to be tonight,” he said. “Full moon is tomorrow.”

  “Lily!” Morgan called, getting closer.

  Nathaniel glanced anxiously toward the path to the cemetery. “We have a deal?”

  “Yeah.”

  Nathaniel moved off toward the cemetery. I didn’t warn him about the ghosts that may or not be lying in wait for him there. Meanwhile, the mist was dissipating.

  The sky brightened above the skeletal tree branches as Morgan reached me. “There you are!” he said, grabbing my hand. “Your pulse is racing.”

  “C’mon, I’ve got to talk to Dad.” I pulled him toward the path.

  “You exorcise all the ghosts?”

  “Just about.” I glanced up into his amber eyes, thinking about the release of Charlie’s wolf, his joining Millicent. Understanding that desire for freedom. Even Jonah, killer that he was, had to be set free to save the rest of us.

  And tomorrow night, we’d be running in the forest on the full moon, knowing for the first time in months the Smith pack was gone. We’d have the forest to ourselves. That sounded like heaven.

  “Hmmm,” Morgan said, dipping his lips toward mine for a kiss. “I’m getting some interesting visuals. What’s this about a jail break?”

  “Freedom,” I said. “We’re going to let a bad wolf go and then be free ourselves.”

  Morgan didn’t correct me. He didn’t remind me that we’d never truly be free as long as hunters like Lindstrom and Murphy and Reverend Sutton lived. He didn’t point out that the future of a wolf is never certain, especially in a town like Pioneer Falls, where the past so vividly shapes the present.

  He simply kissed me again—softly, deeply—and then drew me into the trees, where all good wolves belong.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Heather Davis lives in the Pacific Northwest where she writes Young Adult Paranormal Romances about smart, courageous girls in extraordinary circumstances.

  In her books, you’ll always find mysterious (and often brooding) heroes, dark secrets to uncover, heartfelt emotion, and plenty of sizzling kisses along the way.

  Heather is the author of the Never Cry Werewolf series and other books for teens, including the 2011 RITA Award Finalist for Best Young Adult Romance, The Clearing. A fan of indie bands, movies, kittens, and green tea lattes, she loves connecting with her readers.

  www.heatherdavisbooks.com

  https://twitter.com/heatherdbooks

  https://www.facebook.com/HeatherDavis.Author

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  Dear Reader:

  Thanks for sharing this third adventure in Pioneer Falls with me! As an indie author, I would love your help in spreading the word about this series. Please consider leaving a review at your favorite online book retailer. I’m excited to hear what you think––even if it’s a brief review.

  Thank you so much!

  BOOKS BY HEATHER DAVIS

  THE PIONEER FALLS SERIES

  A Curse So Dark

  A Forest So Deadly

  A Light So Cruel

  THE NEVER CRY WEREWOLF SERIES

  Never Cry Werewolf

  Sometimes by Moonlight: A Novella (Book Two)

  Always in Shadow: A Novella (Book Three)

  STAND-ALONE YOUNG ADULT ROMANCES

  The Clearing

  Wherever You Go