Alarum (Walking Shadows Book 1)

by Talis Jones

  I nod my head but I’m not listening. I’m watching Shade and Shadow. Shade makes my stomach do funny back-flips and I like when he’s nice to me but it hurts extra when he’s not. My mind flits to Shadow, a miniature version of his brother except he’s got dirty blond hair while his brother has brown hair so dark it’s almost black. At least he was concerned about me.

  Pushing my glasses back up my nose I fidget with the metal digging behind my ears. Hero catches me. “Those are getting too small for you,” he worries.

  I don’t know what to say so I say nothing. I take them off and wipe the lenses on the hem of my shirt. Without them the corral melts into nonsense. I squint hard and the shapes go back into focus for a brief moment. Slipping them back on my face I stick my hands in my pockets and nod. “Yep.”

  “Heads up!” someone shouts but I don’t move in time and a rock strikes my arm. Hard.

  Hissing in pain I glare at the perpetrator. “I hate this place.”

  Hero laughs his golden laugh. “Nah, it’s not so bad.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “Vizsla!”

  A bony arm grabs my elbow and yanks me inside causing me to trip over my own feet. Basket full of veg hugged close to my chest I look at Lizbeth wide-eyed but wait for her to speak first.

  Pushing the door closed swiftly she pulls me into the kitchen speaking in hurried tones. “Who is that man? What did he want? Where’d he come from?”

  “I— I—” My voice stutters from the rush of her words.

  “Spit it out!”

  “His name is Connors. He’s here looking for a gunsmith. I don’t know where he’s from,” I manage succinctly.

  Lizbeth leans against the counter, eyes clouded in thought. I can’t blame her surprise. I was just as startled as she when I saw him arrive. Hans has a shop in the town nearby where he sells guns and other such things so there’s never a need for a customer to hunt him down at his home and workshop.

  Suddenly a thought comes to me. I hardly know the man but he puts me at ease and I’m not in a hurry to have that calm leave any time soon. Change is a gamble but monotony will squeeze me dead for certain. “If he rode all the way out here he must be a special customer. Perhaps we should take advantage of this and invite him to dinner?”

  Faded blue eyes meet my mossy green ones. “Well it seems you have a bright idea for once. Begin preparations as I go inquire.”

  Gone in a flurry I watch as she crosses the yard, smoothing down her hair and straightening her clothes. I turn my attention to dinner. Meat. Kody should be back by now. Practically sprinting for the front door I run smack into a tower of tan skin and worn clothes causing a slight cloud of dust to bounce up and tickle my lungs. Kody’s arms catch mine to stop me from falling and waits as my fit quickly passes.

  “Sorry,” I apologize the moment my lungs calm down.

  “Making a break for it?” he teases. I only know he’s teasing because…was he teasing? He’s surely teasing. It’s impossible to tell with him.

  “No,” I explain, “a man came to visit Hans and Lizbeth told me to cook dinner quickly so as to invite the man to stay.”

  Curiosity crinkles his brow. “I see. So you’d be rushing off to find me then.”

  I nod a bit sheepishly.

  Kody rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I can’t help you. I didn’t bring anything back with me.”

  “You didn’t catch anything?” I ask surprised. Hunting may just be a necessity of life now but Kody was excellent at it and almost always brought something back for us to share.

  “I said I didn’t bring anything back,” he frowns.

  My lips almost smile but I keep them neutral as I bob my head and return to the kitchen. A vegetable soup it will have to be.

  As my hands chop, crush, dice, and stir, my mind thinks about Kody. I’ve seen him around Hans’ horses. Walking past with laundry I once caught him stroking their manes and whispering to them with an honest smile. Hunter he may be, but not a careless predator. The more I think on it I wouldn’t be surprised if he murmurs a little prayer for each animal he strikes down so that we can eat and grow. I almost smile at that.

  I gather that Connors accepted the invitation based off the jolly booming voices bouncing around the house with the opening of the front door. I ladle a small bowl of soup for myself and set it aside then pick up the heavy pot carefully with towels to protect my hands from the lingering heat and carry it out to the table placing it down carefully. Hans is introducing Connors to his family and I disappear as quick as a ghost melting through walls.

  Sipping my soup as quietly as I can, I listen to their conversation. Irritatingly I don’t learn much. Connors is a roamer, currently heading north, and he put in an order that will take perhaps a week to fill. Nothing else was revealed both because Connors managed to be simultaneously open and vague, and Hans took the reins of the conversation along with Miles and Lizbeth.

  Picking up the sounds of scraping chairs and sluggish footfalls I wait until everyone’s moved to the sitting room before I dash out and collect all the used dishes.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t have a nice cut of steak to share tonight.” Lizbeth’s voice drifts through to me and I roll my eyes. They killed their last cow years before I ever arrived.

  “Not at all,” Connors replies. “The meal was right tasty.” I smile until I hear his next words. “Who’s that girl of yours? The one I saw in the garden earlier?”

  My body turns rigid, stacks of cups and utensils clutched tight in my hands as I wait for someone to answer.

  “Hm? Oh she’s just a hired hand,” Lizbeth trills. My hand aches to throw something at her tarnished golden head for the frosted lie.

  “I see.” Although it didn’t sound like he saw at all, or maybe he saw too well. “I’m sure it’s nice to have help ‘round the house.”

  “Vizsla? Help?” Maurene cackles.

  “She’s really not the brightest but she came half-price,” Lizbeth agrees politely. “In fact if Hans hadn’t arrived when he did she was going to be put down. It seems she simply couldn’t meet the standards. Even now I sometimes wonder if that wouldn’t be the kind thing to do.”

  I can’t help but picture her with petite puckered lips, sipping tea with her pinky sticking out, nodding away as if gossiping with friends at a fancy party. Stupid b—nope, I’m not gonna say that. My brain churns for substitutes: stupid twig, insipid gnat, silly bat, stupid…stupid…stupid evil f—ing bitch!

  I swear I’m trying not to say those words anymore. But sometimes the situation offers no alternatives. Or maybe my mind isn’t educated enough to come up with something witty and sharp. And maybe saying those rough words just makes me feel better for some irrational reason. I’m sure when I die Momma will have some words for me about it though.

  “Do you not miss the housework?” Connors asks kindly. “I myself always enjoyed it, the calming rhythm of washing dishes and the like. In fact I’d ask to wash ‘em tonight except I don’t want to steal that pleasure from you, ma’am.”

  “What? Oh, no I—um, not at all if—” Lizbeth stumbles over her words clearly taken aback.

  “No no,” Connors insists charmingly. “I couldn’t do that to ya. You go ahead and wash up, set your mind at ease. I can take my turn another night. Here I’ll help carry our mugs for ya.”

  Quickly I dash into the kitchen and deposit the dishes into the sink before I can be caught eavesdropping. Lizbeth enters with a hysterical expression caught between bewilderment and fury like a rabbit caught in a snare while behind her trails Connors, tall, dark, and with a calm smile that seems unaware that anything’s amiss.

  Seeming stuck and at a loss for words to craft an escape Lizbeth faces me reluctantly. “I will be washing the dishes tonight, Vizsla. Go and…sit I suppose.”

  Bowing my head I walk to the sitting room, palms sweating enough to turn the stream outside into a saltwater river. Connors follows me and we rejoin the others. Maurene only barely manages to pick
her jaw up off the floor.

  “Hans has told me much about the family and you’re the only one left with an empty card. How old are you, Vizsla?” Connors inquires casually, reclining into his chair without a care in the world.

  “Fifteen. What about you?” I ask before I can stop it. I want to hit myself but Connors just smiles real slow.

  “Quid pro quo, kid. I’m forty-four.” He stares at me expectantly and when I don’t respond he clears his throat gently. “I believe it’s your turn to ask a question.”

  “Uh, where are you from?”

  “Before the world fell apart or after?”

  “Before.”

  “Georgia,” he answers, no sadness in his voice but plenty in his eyes. “You?”

  “Pennsylvania,” I tell him straight. No sadness left in me for a life I’d barely gotten to know.

  “What’s your favorite food?” he asks grinning.

  “Red velvet cake.” Although the moment the words come out my mouth I wonder when was the last time I had any. Maybe if I’d become one of the boss’ Soldiers or if Maurene, the only chocolate lover in this family, wasn’t such a rabid cat then I could have stuffed my face with it on those rare occasions that she got any.

  “Apple cobbler,” returns Connors.

  “What’s your business with Hans?” I ask boldly.

  Someone chokes on their drink but we ignore them.

  “Guns, bullets, lots of ‘em. I’m heading north and my path will take me through unregulated land. Better ready than dead, right?” He winks but I don’t respond, I just wait for his next question. Leaning forwards and resting his elbows on his knees he asks, “Have you ever fired a gun?”

  “No.”

  “Would you like to?”

  “That’s two questions,” I point out quickly. “You lose the game.” Connors frowns slightly but says nothing.

  He hadn’t noticed how the tension in the room had risen so high and thick that it would take Moses to lead us through. And he hadn’t noticed how red Hans’ face was becoming nor how Maurene’s mouth was twitching on the verge of some outburst or other. I’m never invited to sit with the family and I’ve definitely never been asked to chat. Their tolerance would only last as long as it took for their surprise to wear off.

  “Vizsla go ready my bed,” snaps Maurene gleefully.

  I stand and bob my head taking a moment to catch Katya’s uncomfortable gaze before I leave. Fetching a quilted blanket from her room I step cautiously into the kitchen. Lizbeth’s eyes are calmly staring out the dark windows lost in thought but she catches my reflection and faces me, her expression returning to its usual frowning pucker like she’s sucking on a sour candy flavored with injustice.

  “Finish this,” she orders. Wiping her hands on a towel she departs without looking back.

  I light the small woodstove and hang the blanket over a special dowel before it. While it warms the cotton I turn to what’s left of dish duty, which isn’t much. Drying the last few cups and placing them carefully in the cabinet I let my head settle from the spin it’s been stuck in since that stranger rode up on his black steed.

  Deliciously warm I hug the blanket to my chest for but a moment before heading to the stairs. I’ve hardly begun my ascent before Miles appears in front of me blocking my path. I start to retreat when he whips out an arm and in one swift motion pulls me against him pressing his lips against mine. Dropping the blanket I swing my fist and knock him sideways. Rage billows across his face and my breath catches as he rears back his hand to strike me back.

  “Did someone drop this?”

  I spin around and find myself staring at Connors leaning against the railing by the bottom of the stairs and holding the discarded quilt. Miles slithers back up the stairs and I go down to fetch the blanket.

  “Thank you,” I murmur before returning to the kitchen to restore some of the lost warmth in the cloth.

  CHAPTER 10

  Days pass quickly. Katya hard at work in the converted barn smithy, Hans running his shop in town with Miles beside him, Kody hiding in the woods, Lizbeth watching the sun rise and set, and Maurene being her usual thorny self. Connors comes and goes as he pleases to check on his order but always shows for dinner.

  Strangely he’s created a thin veil of peace around us all. I count down the days before he’ll leave us. One day. Tomorrow he leaves and the peace will dissipate as our rougher rhythm returns.

  The sun yawns not yet fully above the horizon as I spread hay, scoop up horse poop, and feed the horses, Apollo and Remus. I’m hanging up the pitchfork when the mini-barn door shudders shut. Looking up I see Maurene hovering nearby and am glad that the windows were left propped open because being stuck in the dark with Maurene on the prowl would be a horror film in itself.

  “What do you want, Maurene?” I ask annoyed. She doesn’t move so I turn my back on her. “Look if you’re just gonna stand there then fine but I’ve got to finish with the horses because unlike you I have work to do—” My words are cut off when a shoe strikes my shoulder. I whirl around in anger. “What the hell, Maurene?”

  She doesn’t answer. We’re locked in a silent battle of wills and I feel like she’s trying to ask me something but is stuck arguing with herself about it. I just want to get the hell away from her. I’m about to retreat out the back door when she finally bursts.

  “I hate you! You are nothing and I hate you! You are so useless! You are no more than a blind cow! You are less than the dirt I spit on and I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOU!” Maurene keeps screaming until her vocal chords are sure to fray and pop. She keeps screaming until her throat is bulging and red. She keeps screaming like there’s a demon inside her and hurling hate is the only way to force it out and free herself. I look around stunned and my feet refuse to move as if they’ve sunk down into the cement floor.

  Putting up my hands I try and speak calmly, soothingly. “Maurene, I don’t know what I ever did—”

  “No! You don’t get to talk! You are dirt, remember? You are nothing but dust! This whole disgusting pathetic world is nothing but dust.”

  I try smiling and ready myself to make some sort of friendly plea to calm her down. I’ve never seen someone so wild and unhinged and it terrifies me.

  “THAT! I hate that! Your stupid empty smile! You are nothing but dirt and we all make sure you know it and yet you keep fucking smiling! I bet if I ground you into the earth with my heel you would still smile at me. I bet if I ripped your face off with my fingernails you’d still stretch what flesh was left and smile at me. I hate you. I really really hate you.”

  Suddenly it’s like the wind has been knocked from her lungs and she collapses onto her knees, head tilted back, tears streaming hot and thick down her pretty face. “You’re from somewhere. You’ve been places. You’ve done things. You have a past.”

  “Everyone has a past, Maurene,” I whisper softly as I take a cautious step towards her.

  “Not me. My past is my present and my future. I’m nothing and no one and I will never be anything else. But you…you’re going places, you’re gonna be somebody.”

  I shake my head confused. “I’m not going anywhere, Maurene.”

  “I heard him! I heard him ask about you!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insist and I mean it. I have no clue what she’s talking about. I just want her to calm down and at least be her mean vapid self again or return to some semblance of normal.

  “You’re leaving me!” she wails. She kneels there rocking slightly, sobbing so hard her lungs must be crying too, and all the while she just keeps repeating those words: you’re leaving me.

  Struggling to figure out what to do, I look around helplessly. Maurene was screaming so loudly I’m amazed no one’s come running even though this stable is set a ways out from the house. Something glints in the dim light and my back stiffens automatically.

  With trembling fingers Maurene pulls a gun from her back waistband and without even time
for a thought I run. I run as swift as a coyote being hunted by a farmer. My legs leave my words behind and my body lurches on pure instinct. My legs flee jumped up on adrenaline and I almost slam into the barn door. My nails bleed as I scramble in a panic to slide it open and run. Run run RUN.

  I run to the house faster than I thought my body capable of. Maurene has lost it. She’s completely lost it. Nuts. Off her rocker. Insane. Possessed. Gone. A gunshot rips through the air and empties my lungs and my feet trip over a rock jerking my body to the dusty ground.

  From dust we were born and to dust we’ll return.

  ...Hero?

  I stay there, face pressed into the mildly unpleasant scent of fresh grass. Rocks jab into my limbs but still I don’t move. Panting I lay there waiting for my brain to stop wobbling, waiting for the electric hum of adrenaline and terror to leave my veins, waiting for what will come next.

  Rough hands haul me to my feet and I’m suddenly aware that tears coat my own cheeks.

  “What happened?” the voice asks.

  But I can’t answer because all my words and thoughts have left me far behind. They keep running running running but my body is caught here and I try to call for them to come back but they just keep running. What happened? What just happened? Hands shake me hard and my mind finally stops spinning and words slam back into my chest. I swallow enough words for me to speak.

  “Maurene had a gun,” I gasp. I look up and see that Kody is the one holding me, he must have forgotten something and returned to the house in time to catch the end of Maurene’s episode. I try to look into his eyes and decipher what he’s thinking, what he’ll do. His face is as unreadable as ever but something flashes in his eyes and I think it’s horror or fear or surprise or I. Just. Don’t. Know.

  Screams pierce the air and we both whip our heads around. Lizbeth stands at the entrance of the stable with her hands clasped against her mouth to control anymore screams from clawing their way out. Kody rushes to his mother and his steps falter as he sees the scene within. Slowly I force my feet to follow him. She missed. She didn’t hit me. One shot and she missed…and yet she didn’t miss at all.