“I went through something similar to what you are going through; only I didn’t have any hope of saving the person I loved. The hunter killed him outright.” She put the bottle away in the cabinet and turned to look at him.
“I fell in love with the werewolf that turned me. We saw a lot of similarities with one another. He helped me get through my awakening. He stayed here with me. And then he got into a mess with some people he shouldn’t have. A hunter found him.” Cheyenne crossed her arms over her chest, setting her jaw. Jason looked away from her.
“For months after he died, I drowned myself in alcohol. I drank every night until I was sick, trying to forget his face, trying to forget what happened to him. One night, I was about half drunk when I started thinking, ‘Why am I doing this? Would Skye want me pining over him, or out doing something about it?’ I made up my mind and threw out every bottle of booze and hard liquor I had.”
“Every bottle you had?” Jason asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“That bottle was reserved for special occasions, I’ll have you know,” she retorted. She stared at him. Her hazel eyes reflected light from the overhead bulb. “My point is, drinking got me nowhere. It ruined a good part of my life. I’ll not have that happen to you. I’ll not let you risk losing the person you love.”
“You have no idea what’s going on,” Jason said. He shook his head. Colors and spots danced before his eyes. He blinked a few times to clear them from his vision. “He has her, I can’t stop him. He’s a werewolf, just like us.”
Cheyenne was silent for a moment and then she shrugged. “I don’t know who he is, or what you mean by that, but you can’t give up and you can’t drink it all away. Do you understand me?”
Jason stared at the clock on the wall. He watched the second hand move around the circle. He was thinking about Simon, seeing him smirking in the dark, his eyes blazing yellow. He should’ve known from the start just what he was.
“Did you hear me, Jason?” Cheyenne repeated.
Jason nodded slowly.
“I feel compelled to help you in anyway I can. I’ve given you food, clothes and shelter for tonight, but I want to do something more.”
“Like what?” Jason asked. His words sounded slurry again.
“I want to help you find the hunters that took your woman. But—” She gave a deep sigh. “You’re drunk, and it wouldn’t help any to tell you now. It can wait until morning.”
“No, it can’t,” Jason said, trying to stand. He stumbled a bit and nearly fell. He grabbed the table again.
“Yes, it can. In the morning, but right now you need to sleep.” She studied him carefully. “When was the last time you slept?”
“I don’t remember,” he said, all of a sudden feeling bone-weary.
“There’s a bedroom upstairs, second door on the left, that you can use, if you can make it that far. Get some sleep and we’ll talk it over in the morning.”
She watched him, staring at him for a long time. Jason felt as if her eyes were burning on him. He looked away and moved toward the kitchen door. He took his time, feeling the wall and using it to support himself when he felt weak in the legs.
I’m not going to make it to the bedroom, he thought when he entered the dining room. He made his way through the room and into the hall. The ugly brown couch had never looked as inviting as it did now. He made his way to it.
He was out before he touched the cushions.
Chapter Twenty
He awoke to the smell and sounds of bacon frying. For a brief moment, he thought he was home in his cabin and it was Rose’s day off from the office. She was cooking breakfast for him.
Then he felt the dryness of his mouth and how thick his tongue felt pressed against the roof of it. He half opened one eye and promptly closed it. Harsh sunlight streamed in through the window and across his face. He was suddenly aware of a stabbing pain in his head. It all came back to him.
He wasn’t home and Rose wasn’t cooking breakfast for him. Rose was gone. He was at some farm house and it was Cheyenne’s voice that sounded from the kitchen. The sizzle of bacon grew louder.
Jason groaned and closed his eyes tightly. He tried to shut out the noise, tried to ignore the smell of bacon fat but it was useless. He was awake now, he remembered and he had a terrible hangover.
He sat up slowly, squinting in the sunlight. Shrill laughter sounded from the kitchen and he winced.
He reluctantly climbed off the couch. The girl’s laughter resonated in his head. He placed a hand to his forehead to try to ease the pain.
He made his way slowly to the dining room. He felt dizzy. He paused in the hall and peered through the door and into the kitchen. He could see Aurora as she sat at the table. Cheyenne cast a shadow across the floor. He didn’t know where the boy was.
Aurora looked away from where Cheyenne was hidden through the door and right at Jason. The smile that had been on her face faded. A moment later, she stood from the table and walked toward him.
Jason pushed himself back against the wall and allowed her to pass. She walked by without looking at him or saying anything and headed up the steps. His head hurt too much to wonder why.
Cheyenne was at the stove, a plate of bacon in one hand and a grease-dripping spatula in the other. Her hair was damp, dark from being wet and loose down her back and her skin freshly scrubbed and shining from a shower.
He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. Cheyenne glanced over her shoulder, pausing in her cooking to look him over. After appraising him, she went back to dishing bacon out of the skillet and onto the plate.
“You look wonderful this morning,” she said. Her voice held just the slightest tone of sarcasm and she chuckled softly. “I tried to tell you.”
“And I didn’t listen. What do you want?” Jason asked. The sizzling of the bacon left in the pan was loud and the smell was both mouth-watering and nauseating. He took a deep breath and turned away from her.
“I told you last night what I wanted,” Cheyenne answered as she placed the bacon on the table. Plates were arranged again for a meal, but she turned and began cracking eggs into a bowl. “I want to help you. Now I know you didn’t get the chance to think much on what I said. I highly doubt you even remember half of our conversation—”
“I remember enough,” he said tensely. Cheyenne stopped, egg hovering over the bowl. She stared at him and blinked her eyes lazily. She said nothing at first then turned back, cracking the egg over the edge of the bowl. The egg yolk slimed out of the shell and Jason looked away, feeling sick.
“Have you decided whether you want my help or not? Here’s a better question. Are you ready to accept my help?” She took a wire whisk and beat the eggs steadily. She did not turn to face him. Jason was glad she didn’t, or else she would’ve undoubtedly criticized him for the scowl on his face.
He didn’t answer her for a long time. When he did, he found his voice as tense as before. “What…sort of help did you have in mind?”
Cheyenne gave a slight shrug and tossed her hair behind her back. She stirred the eggs in the pan. When she looked back at him, there was a smile on her tan face.
“Like I told you last night, I have some information on a group of hunters. It’s probably nothing much, but I’ve been watching these guys for a few weeks.”
“Who are they?” Jason pulled himself away from the door.
“I don’t have any names, but I know where one of them lives. He’s apparently their leader, and they hold…meetings there from time to time. I see them with their weapons.”
“And they’re hunters?”
Cheyenne nodded, stirring the eggs some more. “I’m pretty sure of it.”
“What if they’re not?” Jason said. He suddenly realized he sounded a lot like Glen. He hardly ever thought things through, but he questioned Cheyenne’s friendship. Was she telling the truth or would this just prove to be a distraction?
“They have silver bullets, Jason.” Cheyenne sighed. She dumped the eg
gs onto another plate and faced him. “I don’t think people carry those around just to have them.”
“Fuck.” Jason shook his head. “You’re right. That does sound like hunters.”
Cheyenne put the plate of eggs on the table and pulled open the fridge. She removed a carton of orange juice and began to fill the empty glasses on the table. “I figured I could give you the address and you could check them out. They may be involved with the ones who took your girlfriend.”
She held out a glass of juice for him to take. He eyed her and lifted a brow.
“Take it,” she said. “You probably won’t eat anything but you should have something at least. Take it.”
He took the cold glass from her without argument and took a sip. The acidic tang of the orange juice burned his tongue, but he swallowed without noticing. Cheyenne paused to brush a stray strand of hair from her face.
“Do you want the address?” she asked casually.
Jason thought it over a minute, swirling juice in his mouth. He gave a short nod. “Give it to me.”
Instead of saying it aloud, as he had thought she would, Cheyenne put her hand into the pocket of her jeans and withdrew a piece of paper. She slipped it to him, her warm hand clasping his own. He was forced to look at her.
“There’s more,” she told him. “But I’ll wait.”
Rebel and Aurora stood in the doorway just behind him. Rebel’s longish brown hair was sticking out in various places and his eyelashes were still coated with sleep. He gave a huge yawn as he made his way to the table and took a seat.
“He was still asleep,” Aurora said as she took her place across from her brother. She didn’t wait for an invitation and dished some eggs onto her plate. She scooped them up hungrily into her mouth. Rebel rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up fully.
“I figured that.” Cheyenne smiled warmly at them. She took a very long drink from her own glass of juice. She downed half of it in one gulp. “I’m going to take Jason out and show him the grounds. I’ll be back in a little bit.
“Come on,” she said as she turned to Jason. “There’s something I want to show you.” She led the way out of the kitchen and through the dining room. Jason quickly finished what he wanted of his drink and left the glass on the counter. The kids didn’t look up, too absorbed in their breakfasts.
Cheyenne was already outside on the front porch when he finally caught up with her. She stood there, comfortable in just her T-shirt and jeans. It was very warm, unlike the stormy weather the day before. The ground was still a bit sodden, but there were no ominous rain clouds in the sky today. The sun was overhead. It had to be nearly noon, if not past.
He stepped beside her, squinting in the sunlight. His hang-over headache had nearly faded away. He was glad for that.
Cheyenne stared out over the green fields. The road curved beyond the driveway, snaking a path over the hills. Trees here and there were nearly naked in their autumn splendor. Reds and oranges littered the fields. There was a barn not too far from the house and then another, far into the distance. She sighed.
“It was once a great place, this farm, but then my parents—”
“How did they die?” Jason asked. Cheyenne looked at him, her face angry for a moment. Then it became calm once again. She gave a small shrug.
“My parents and my older brother died in a car accident, a long time ago. I guess it’s one of the reasons why I relate so much to the kids. They have to go through the same things I did. At least maybe, I can help them a bit more. I’ve been through it.” She turned back to look out over the farm.
Jason was silent, brooding on it for a moment. He said, “Rose went through the same thing. She hardly remembers it though. She was only four.”
Cheyenne half smirked. “I guess we all have a little something in common.”
“Maybe more than you think,” Jason said. He thought about all the werewolves he knew, and how most of them had suffered through tragedy. How many of them had no parents growing up. It was a growing trend.
“What do you mean?” Cheyenne asked, but he shook his head.
“It’s nothing. What was it you wanted to show me?”
Cheyenne came out of her thoughts and moved down the steps. “This way.” She led the way around her truck and down the driveway to the barn nearest them. Jason followed without word.
The barn was shut with a heavy board and Cheyenne removed it with little difficulty and threw open the wooden doors. It was musty and dark inside. Light filtered in through breaks in the wooden boards that made up the walls. There were horse stalls, empty and unused in perhaps a long time. And in the center of the barn was a car, a dust cloth thrown over it.
Puzzling over why she had brought him here, he took a few steps farther inside and followed her as she walked toward the car. In one sweeping motion, she gripped the cloth and pulled it back.
He could not mask the shock he felt. Cheyenne threw the cloth aside and stood with one hand on her hip as she surveyed the vehicle she had just unveiled.
“Wow,” Jason said softly as he stepped closer to the Camaro. It was black and shiny and looked very new. Chrome rims glittered in the light that filtered in. Dark tinted windows showed his reflection as he drew near.
“Nice,” he said. He looked over the top of the car, nodding, clearly impressed. “T tops.”
“Yeah. It was my brother’s car. He had it all fixed up. Had a new V-6 engine installed, got it all fixed up, then…well…” She gave a wave of her hand to the car. “It’s not doing any good just sitting here in the barn. I’m giving it to you.”
Jason felt his mouth drop open and he tore his gaze from the car to stare at her. “Me? What?”
“I’m giving it to you, Jason. I have no use for it. I would’ve sold it but it had sentimental value but now, I think you need it more,” she said, smiling a tiny bit. “You won’t stand to wait any longer in finding your girl, and I don’t blame you.”
“I…don’t know what to say.” He was shocked. His gaze went back to the car, looking it over. This amazing machine was now his. He couldn’t believe it.
Cheyenne dug into her pockets again. She produced a pair of keys and tossed them to him. They jingled as they flew through the air and he caught them easily.
“You don’t have to say anything. Just take it and go.”
He ran his fingers over the smooth, warm metal of the keys and looked down at them. He brought his eyebrows together. “Listen, Cheyenne—”
“You don’t have to thank me, Jason. Finding your woman and fucking the hunters up will be thanks enough for me.”
He shook his head and started again. “Listen, if you ever need help, go to this store and ask for Glen.” He rattled off the address where Glen’s storefront was. Cheyenne was stone-faced as he told her, but she nodded to confirm that she had heard him. “And the kids—“
“Hey, don't worry. From what I've heard, they were kinda forced upon you. You can't have them tagging along when you… Well, do what you need to do. I can take care of them for a few days.”
Jason nodded. “Thanks. Just tell them—tell them whatever. When it's all said and done, if I'm still alive, I'll come back. If I'm not back in a few days, definitely go to that address. Glen will help.”
He opened the door. The interior was spotlessly clean. The scent of leather was strong, but comforting. He peered in at the black and red interior and grinned a bit to himself.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said, watching as he climbed into the car. He started it up and it roared to life. The sound of it was empowering. Jason revved the engine to hear the sound of it again.
“Good luck,” Cheyenne said over the roar. “Give ‘em hell.”
Jason only grinned and put the car into drive. The back tires kicked up dust from the barn floor as they spun around. He shot out of the barn, running down the driveway and out of sight.
He glanced in the rearview mirror to see Cheyenne in the doorway of the barn, watching him as he drove away.
>
* * *
The hours were tense for Davis. He tried to watch television, but soap operas and day-time talk shows were not his thing. How could he worry about that when Glen knew something he didn’t?
Glen had told him that he had found something out about his parents while Davis had napped, something that was very important. Davis couldn’t understand why Slater was involved but Glen was adamant. He couldn’t tell him until Slater got back.
Although he had tried to persuade him over and over, he could get nothing from him. Glen was determined not to let him know until Slater got there and it would be hours, days, before he did.
Davis couldn’t wait that long. He had resolved to pace the floor. Back and forth across the room he walked until Glen got pissed and threw a bottle at him. Now, he sat in one of the chairs, leaning back on the two back legs. He stared up at the cracked ceiling and waited.
Suddenly, the sound of an engine jarred Davis back to life. He set his chair firmly on its four legs and turned expectantly toward the door. Sure enough, the familiar figure of Slater walked in. He paused once he stepped inside and narrowed his dark eyes at Davis. He didn’t try to attack him, which Davis found to be an improvement. He sucked in a breath.
“I’m back, Glen,” Slater called.
Glen emerged from the hall, a stack of papers clutched in his hand. “You’re back sooner than I thought,” he answered. “Did you do what you needed to do?”
Slater glanced at Davis again and said without looking back at Glen. “Yeah. I’m alright now.”
“So there’s not going to be any fighting?”
“Not unless he provokes me,” Slater answered.
“Likewise.” Davis found it hard to speak suddenly. His mouth had gone dry. Glen glanced at him and gave a short nod.
“All right. Good. I have something to tell both of you.” Glen made his way across the floor and to the table.
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