by Melle Amade
“What, like the horse whisperer?” I ask.
“Right, if I was like that guy and could get animals to do what I wanted them to do just by whispering in their ears, now that would be an unfair advantage.”
“I guess, but it still doesn’t seem right,” I murmur.
“So, it’s okay for humans to show animals, have pets, compete with them, even eat them, but shifters shouldn’t because we can turn into animals?”
“Yes?” I try to say it but it comes out more as a question.
“Why? Don’t you think it would give us better insight in the show ring, more compassion with the animals, and a better understanding of what might be good for them?” Cooper scoops some more grain in one of the grain buckets.
“Well, I think it gives you an unfair advantage.
“Some people have money to pour into it. We’ve got animal insight.” Cooper shrugs with a slight grin. It warms his face and makes it easy to feel comfortable around him. He is the kind of guy with no guile; never trying to manipulate or make waves.
Henry saunters back into the shed and grabs the handles on the wheelbarrow. It’s laden with buckets now and ready to go to the animals. We’ve gotten so comfortable here, Henry doesn’t even have to be told it’s time to distribute the feed.
I drag my fingers through the corn, oats and barley mixture in the bottom of the nearest bucket. The sweet grain smell wafts up into my nostrils, with a cheerful flair. It’s breakfast time. My lips curve in a smile. I might not eat animal feed, but it still touches my salivary glands the way pancakes and eggs does.
“For all intents and purposes,” he says, “we are human, Shae. We should never let ourselves be limited.”
Grain runs through my fingers as my hand slides to the cold metal collar harnessing my neck. Cooper turns from the white board, his eyes finally resting on the flat gray noose.
A fly buzzes between us.
“Does it hurt?” Cooper asks quietly.
“Sometimes,” I say. “But only if I try to shift.”
“You’ve tried?” Cooper turns back to the whiteboard, changing the numbers and then scooping out the grains and replacing the buckets in another wheelbarrow.
“A few times at first,” I murmur. “But…” My voice trails off, as I remember the surging pain caused by the collar.
“I’m pretty good with a soldering iron,” Cooper says.
My fingers clench around the thin metal handle of the bucket of grain he hands me. “It’s not normal metal,” I say.
“Yeah, they said.”
“Who’s they?”
“My parents. A blowtorch apparently won’t do anything to it.”
“Well, it might burn a hole in my neck.” My laughter is hollow. It’s always a little hollow lately. Cooper doesn’t laugh at all. “Hey, thanks for thinking of it.” I try to make it sound like there’s something hopeful about this.
“It’s not right,” Cooper says. “There’s nothing right about it.”
“You guys have the grain measured yet?” Zan steps into the feed room. “I’m hungry.”
“Go eat,” I shrug.
“Animals eat first,” Cooper and Zan say the words together.
Cooper chuckles to himself, but Zan doesn’t. She’s been just as morose as Roman since her break up with Aiden. I don’t think it helps that she’s been tasked with setting up covert communications between Topanga and Potter Valley; Aiden and us. Zan’s such a whiz on computers, she could’ve hacked the set up within minutes of getting here, but somehow in the two weeks since we’ve gotten here we still have had no contact with them. All she ever says is “I’m working on it.” But I have my doubts. I’m pretty sure she’s not keen to speak to Aiden. Not yet.
No one else seems bothered by our seclusion from the rest of the shifter world. In fact, it’s how Cooper and his family live, as if the Order and none of the shifter world exists. They are oblivious. Just the way I used to live. But now I hate being out of communication. Aiden is the only connection we have to El Oso and therefore the only lead we have to find my dad. Without being connected to Aiden, we’re not making any progress.
“Callum asked if you would go into the barn and help catch the rooster,” Zan says.
“Only if we can have it for dinner.” I push myself off the wall, getting my fingers tangled in a cobweb that I try to scrape off as I head towards the barn. It’s a good distraction for the mild panic pressing against my chest.
Callum’s a Ravensgaard, and Ridder to Lord Van Arend. He’s been training in the art of battle since he could walk. He doesn’t need my help to catch a chicken.
10
In the sixty seconds it takes me to get into the barn, Callum’s already caught the rooster and he’s standing there, dark hair hanging forward over his sea-green eyes, stroking the short, soft feathers around the rooster’s neck as if he’s some sort of chicken whisperer.
I stand in the shadows and watch. This young man, one of my best friends, and one of the two guys I can’t seem to keep my hands off. Even after my mistakes with Aiden and his betrothal to Iona, he’s here, protecting me, and supporting me.
His long fingers curl into the soft red feathers of the rooster’s neck in a mesmerizing, soft, kneading motion. The rooster opens its beak almost as if it’s going to purr, but then I realize it’s gasping for breath as Callum clenches down and a sickening crack echoes through the barn. The rooster hangs limp in his hands a small trickle of blood eking out of its beak.
“Shit,” I mutter, stepping out of the shadows.
“Shae?” Callum looks up at me, his face pulling into a smile. Where Zan and Roman have turned dour, Callum, always the serious one, has become more lighthearted up here in the country without all the pressures of the Ravensgaard and his duties to Lord Van Arend.
“You going to have a funeral for it?” I ask, trying to sound casual, but also thinking how easily it would be for anyone to snap my neck when I was a bird.
“Funerals suck,” he says. The two words slice through my self-pity.
“Oh,” I murmur. I want to move forward and take his hand, but he’s holding a dead chicken. The last funeral we were at was his brother’s. The one before was his mother’s; after she committed suicide because his dad left. To be honest, I’m still sickened by remembering it.
“Don’t look so glum,” Callum throws me a warm smile. “We might have to have a funeral when Aunt Emma finds out I killed her rooster.”
“Right,” I mutter. “But it’ll be your funeral.”
“So be it,” he chuckles, his fingers still kneading the soft feathers of the rooster’s broken neck. “I’m not going to marry her, Shae.”
“What?” My gaze flies up to him. “Where did that come from?”
He drops his eyes, his cheeks flush red. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “I’ve been trying to find a way or a time to tell you, but-” he shrugs “-there are always so many people around.”
“We do sleep in a barn.” I try to smile to lighten the mood, but it comes out more of a grimace.
“I don’t have to. I’m the Ridder and well, I can get Lord Van Arend’s blessing to choose my own-”
“Stop!” I say. “Just stop.”
His brow furrows, but he closes his mouth.
“Don’t you know how weird it is for me to hear you talking about betrothal and marriage and any of that stuff?” I keep my distance from him because as much as my body yearns to relax into him, I still want to be close, the stakes have gotten really high.
“I don’t care about the collar,” he says.
“You don’t what?!” I exclaim.
“It’s okay if you can’t shift,” he says.
“It’s not okay with me!” I cry. “And it doesn’t change the fact that I’m banished from your society. Lord Van Arend may free you up from your commitment to Iona, but he’s sure not going to approve you being with a banished shifter whose only goal is to find El Oso’s number one prisoner and help him escape.”
&n
bsp; “We can work this out, Shae,” Callum lays the dead chicken on a bale of straw and comes towards me, but I back away.
“It’s not just that,” I raise my hands towards him. “A month or so ago I thought I was human. I was thinking I might go to college, meet a boy, get a career, and eventually – like sometime in the way distant future – settle down. And, at the time, I wanted that to be Aiden.”
He does a sharp intake of breath and stops his forward movement. His mouth draws into a thin line.
“I’m sorry, Callum,” I say, not taking my eyes off him. “I don’t feel the same way now, but I’m tired of not just having everything out in the open. And a couple of weeks ago I found out you guys, even Aiden, all have fiancés already.”
“There was so much going on after Murtagh’s revolt,” Callum says.
“So much that you couldn’t tell me you were betrothed to Murtagh’s daughter,” I glare.
“I gave up everything to be here with you,” Callum opens his hands out to me and I know he doesn’t have anything else to offer.
“I know.” My shoulders sag under the weight of it. “But I can’t just be with you because you are here and left the Ravensgaard. Can you see it from my point of view? The fact that you guys get betrothed as teenagers is really, really bizarre to me.”
He nods as if he gets it, but I don’t think he does. Not really.
“Look, I like The Little Mermaid just as much as the next girl...”
“I like The Little Mermaid,” Callum nods as if we’re on a date and comparing notes about likes and dislikes.
“Stay focused, Callum,” I say. “I’m not Ariel. I’m not looking to get married off when I’m sixteen years old.”
A slow smile grows across Callum’s face. “I wasn’t asking you to marry me,” he drawls the words out.
My face burns and I can only imagine it’s glowing fluorescent red, but I don’t care. I keep going. “I didn’t think you were. But it does seem a bit of what you guys do, so forgive me if I’m a little, or a lot, cautious here.”
“I just wanted you to know I’m not marrying Iona,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“Good for you,” I turn on my heel and head towards the fresh air where the sun is breaking over the horizon. “I’ll cancel the wedding present I ordered.”
I cringe as the door closes behind me, trapping Callum in the dark interior of the barn. He didn’t deserve that. But my heart twists and turns like a tornado is ripping across my chest. He’s made such a sacrifice for me. His stakes have become so high. I’m so not sure I can afford them.
It feels like a pretty slow day on the farm. All we had to do was muck out all of the stalls in the barn. Funny how that didn’t used to seem like a slow day to me. Roman gets off even lighter because of his head injury. I go and find him in the library, which is set up as his new laboratory.
The front door of the house opens into a hallway. There’s a stairway right by the hallway and doors on both sides. To the right is a formal parlor which it doesn’t seem like anybody actually goes into. Instead of the pale blue’s and weathered couches that sit in the family room on the other side of the house, this room is full of pristine and seemingly uncomfortable furniture, all dun and dark greens, maroons, and rich browns.
The room had always seemed completely unused. The other day you’d walk right by it. But after Mom asked Roman if he could make a clone of the medicine from Zaragoza, he had asked Uncle Steve if he could use the tiny library going off of the formal parlor to set up a lab. The barn was apparently not the right sterile environment for some of the tests that he wanted to do. It was a bit strange because he was able to do them in the sanctuary up in Topanga. But when I ask him about it… He sheepishly says he doesn’t like the smell of the animal dung and any excuse to be in the house is good enough excuse for him.
“Was that your secret plan all along? Get a concussion so you’re don’t have to do any heavy lifting around here?”
He throws me a wink. “Either that or have the horse kick me out of my misery.”
My smile disappears immediately. “Roman, I’m-”
“Stop, Shae.” He held up his hand. “We’re not talking about this anymore. I am, well, almost a grown man but I made my own decision. You can’t take responsibility for what I chose to do.”
I take a deep breath, I know this, but I still hate the guilt that I feel every time I see the collar around his neck.
“Hey. I was going to take Henry down to get a popsicle and go to the playground. Do you want to come with us?” I ask.
He stares for a moment at the chemicals he’s mixing and the pieces of metal he’s testing them out on. I try not to look at the burn marks on the skin around his neck where he’s tried out some of those chemicals on the collar. As shifters we heal pretty quickly, which means he’s been tested out chemicals this morning.
“Why? You need a ride?” He asks.
I smile. “Kinda. But mostly I need some cover.”
“Well that sounds interesting,” Roman perks up. Kind of makes me nervous because anytime something dangerous comes up, he thinks it’s awesome.
“Well Aunt Emma is kinda letting you do whatever you want right now. So, I think that she’ll make it a little easier if you say you’re going to take Henry down there.”
Roman laughs. “What, are you just going to hang out in the bushes and jump into the back of the truck when no one’s looking?”
“Not exactly like that,” I say. “I was actually going to get the cab of the truck.”
“Why?” Roman asks.
“If you give me a ride, I’ll tell you on the way,” I murmur.
“Deal,” he says. “Where is your little brother?”
“Practicing corn hole outback.”
“Great. I’ll go get him and meet you in the bushes.”
I roll my eyes as I walk out of the house. The adults are all back by the sheep barn so I know I shouldn’t have too much trouble getting to the front of the property without being spotted.
It’s not until we all get to the cab that Roman looks at me and then looks at Henry and realizes there’s not a single thing I’m going to tell them in the cab of the truck with my little brother listening in. But Henry loves talking for the two of us. He explains to Roman how he has a new friend in town, Evie, and how she invited him on play date and he was so happy Roman had offered to take him.
“You can’t tell Aunt Emma we’re going on a play date,” I say.
Henry frowns but shrugs. “Okay,” he says. “But it’ll cost you two popsicles.”
“I like your style,” Roman says, giving him a high-five.
This time when we get there, The Lodge is open. I’m not sure how things stand between us now and if Henry’s going to be welcome here, so I need to make sure of that first. I send Roman into the store to get a popsicle with Henry as I enter The Lodge. A small bell goes off as I walk in.
Hercules and Evie are alone at the counter. He’s tapping away at an old desktop computer, while Evie is going through books and writing out her homework.
Hercules looks up at me, his face still and quiet.
“Hi,” I say, not quite sure if he’s going to welcome me in or not.
Evie looks up and squeals in delight. At least I know where we stand with her. But I’m still not sure if Hercules is going to let it happen.
“I brought my little brother here.” I stick up my thumb and jab it towards Hopper’s Corner Store. “He’s just grabbing a popsicle, but I thought maybe he and Evie could maybe have a play date or something.”
Hercules is silent for so long that I’m kind of guessing it’s going to be a “no” from him.
“He doesn’t have any friends here,” I say. “It would be really nice for him.”
But it’s Evie who tips the balance in our favor. She just looks up at her brother with big moon eyes and smiles. “Please?” she asks.
And he caves. He reaches in the till and pulls out two bucks. “Yes, but you
better go get yourself an ice cream, too.” Evie snatches the money from his hands and runs out the door.
Hercules stares at me quietly. I nervously click my fingers together and turn away from him to look at the mural. “That’s really beautiful,” I say. I couldn’t get a good look at it from the outside but in here it’s amazing. It’s so detailed, it’s almost as if the people could step out of the painting and into the room. There’s a woman in the center and then two men and two other women. It’s kind of strange because they’re wearing modern clothes. They’re all wearing jeans and t-shirts, but they’re emanating such power. The woman in the center is clearly Native American, but it’s not like she’s wearing a smock or moccasins, she has long braids and feathers hanging down from the sides of her hair. They walk on the clouds, stepping down from the sky over a verdant green Earth with the sun rising over at one side and a storm coming across from the other side. The woman in the middle, as her foot touches the Earth, a great crevice opens up where she steps, as if she’s causing an earthquake.
“Did you paint it?” I ask.
Hercules laughs. It’s a rich, full sound that immediately puts me at ease and helps me to realize I’m not an intruder here. “No. That was painted by Jacqueline’s little sister, Cory. More talent in her little finger than in all of my body.”
“Who are they?” I ask.
“Thunder Beings,” he says. “People who have Earth magic.”
“Is that part of your … tradition?” I ask.
“Sure,” Hercules says. “You can say that. It’s believed that when man has taken things too far on the earth, the Earth will find a way to defend herself. It imbues people with special powers over the elements. The Thunder Beings can use these powers for protection, to balance things out and make them right.”
“What do they have power over?” I ask.
“Whatever the Earth is capable of,” Hercules explains. “Rain, lightning, thunder, rocks, you name it. If the earth has it, a thunder being can control it.”
The man at the side of the storm seems to emanate lightning, it reminds me of Lord Van Arend, but my mind quickly shifts to the magic used by El Oso.