by Melle Amade
“What are you talking about? Is that like a metro cocktail or something?”
“It’s an autumn skullcap” Roman says.
I stare at him blankly. “That still doesn’t tell me anything.”
“It’s a poisonous mushroom,” he says. “But I realize that they’re out of season right now.”
“Zaragoza was feeding my mother poison?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. “You’d be surprised at how many poisons are actually used in everything in small doses. Something that, in large doses, can kill someone, in small doses can actually stimulate parts of their body or shut down part of their body so you don’t feel pain.”
“Well yeah, but you don’t want to never feel pain again. The idea isn’t to kill her.”
“Obviously,” he says.
“So, if you couldn’t get the ballerina-”
“Galerina Marginata,” Roman corrects me.
I shrug. “What is that?” I point in the mortar.
“This,” he says, hold up the bowl, “Is something I found up in the trees right off the north pasture. It is an Amanita genus. More commonly known as the Destroying Angel.”
“You do realize that’s a bad name,” I say. “What does it do?”
“This is the most toxic mushroom in North America. Actually, amazing it’s just growing up there in the woods. People have to be so careful about mushrooms. This thing causes vomiting, delirium, convulsions, diarrhea, liver and kidney failure, and almost always leads to death, if you ingest enough.”
My eyes are wide. “Shouldn’t you have gloves on or something if you use that? And you can’t seriously be planning on feeding any of it to my mother.”
“It’s all right, it’s a controlled substance.” Roman presses the pestle hard against the mortar.
“Yeah, but who is controlling it?”
“I am.”
“Okay, but what are you testing it on?” I ask. “You can’t just give it to my mother without testing it.”
“Well you can’t exactly do animal testing on a powder meant for shifters,” Roman shrugs. “Look, maybe you were right when you said you didn’t want to know what was in the powder. Did you ever ask Zaragoza what was in his powder?”
“No.”
“Right,” Roman says. “That’s because you trusted him. So, either you’re going to trust me on this or you’re going to let your mother suffer.”
“Maybe we should let her make that decision,” Zan says, stepping into the small library.
“Well she can make the decision, and will, but I’m gonna tell her what’s in it.” I say. “There’s no way I’m letting her take that without her knowing the risk.”
“I was going to drop on a warning label and everything,” Roman says, his mouth up turned in a light smirk. Zan laughs. Time to make my exit. Maybe if they can spend a little time alone together, something will click. I give him a knowing look as I walk out the door, but he just blinks at me like there is no way that is going to happen.
“Want some angel dust on your way out?” He laughs.
15
“Come on, let’s go.” Cooper’s boots make loud clumping noises as he walks across the wooden floors. Callum and I are just finishing up the breakfast dishes.
Callum raises his eyebrows at the dirt Cooper tracks through the kitchen. “Dude you got to clean that up before you go anywhere.”
Cooper’s laugh echoes through the house. “You sound like an old woman, Callum. Come on, I thought you were supposed to be the Ridder, the kick-ass knight of Muiderkring West and all that. Don’t you see these babies?”
He’s got two rifles clutched in each of his massive hands, and he wiggles them almost as if they’re batons.
“They’re a little hard to miss,” Callum says. “My job as Ridder, however, is to protect shifters. And if your mother sees the mess you made on the floor, she’s going to use one of those guns on you.”
“Good point.” Somehow Cooper balances two guns between three fingers and aims the butts at Callum, who dries his hands and takes them while I finish drying the last dishes. Cooper grabs a broom from around the corner and sweeps up the mess. It only takes a couple of minutes to get everything cleaned up.
“Let’s do this.” Callum hands me a gun.
I pause before I actually take it. Besides Mom’s old rifle, I don’t really know what to do with one. They make me nervous. The dark wood is well-oiled and the dark metal of the barrel is clean. But I hold it well away from me.
“Point it down,” Cooper says. “That way, in case it has some bullets left in it and goes off, you only shoot yourself in the foot.”
“Great. That’s exactly what I was planning on doing.” I roll my eyes. I make sure my hand is nowhere near the trigger as I angle my way out the door with the rifle.
Roman and Zan jump in the backseat of the Jeep next to me. Callum is in the front seat holding two rifles and Zan seems really comfortable with hers. Another thing I’ve never known about here that she’s been doing her whole life.
Roman won’t touch one and I’m awkward as all get out trying to figure out how to hold it and not shoot myself or break my neck bouncing along in a topless Jeep on a potholed road.
There aren’t that many roads in Potter Valley. There’s the Main Street and then a road that runs along the east side of the valley and one that runs along the west side of the valley. These two roads go around the edge of the valley, curving with the mountains. They kind of make a ring until one breaks off and goes up the hill.
That’s the road we take now.
“We’re going over the hill?” I ask.
Cooper shakes his head. “No there’s a place we all use as a shooting range about halfway up the hill if you know where to look for it.”
“It keeps us out of the valley,” Zan explains. “Less chance of us hitting someone or some animal with a stray bullet.”
“Well that’s thoughtful,” I mumble. Even though I’m from Topanga, it’s hard to imagine people just go out to the middle of nowhere and shoot. Wherever they want. Can’t imagine that’s going to happen in Los Angeles anytime soon.
It’s kind of weird hearing Zan talk about this place so casually. It’s a whole new world for me, but she’s actually had this place hidden in her life the whole time I’ve known her. I know I have some secrets, but as I spend 24/7 with my friends it seems like I barely know them at all. And I wonder how much Aiden and Lord Van Arend know about this place. If it’s considered a safe house from the Order, is it right for them to know anything about it at all?
We turn off the paved road and turn into the lookout. It’s an oval patch of dirt on the side of the mountain where I bet kids come and make out when they can’t find an empty barn. There’s an earth bank around the edges to stop cars from driving over. I’m trying to figure out where we’re going to be doing the shooting, when Cooper aims the jeep at the far end of the lookout and heads towards what looks like a deer trail leading into the undergrowth.
“I don’t think that’s particularly safe,” Roman scrunches back a bit in his seat.
“I’ve got to say I completely agree with him,” I mutter. This is not a place to drive. There’s a sheer drop off the tiny trail, and I let out a little “Eep!” as Cooper steps on the gas.
Crap.
We’re actually driving on… Seriously I don’t even think a flock of ewes could get across this trail.
“Hold on.” Cooper steps on the gas, taking the jeep into four-wheel-drive with the lever pushed up against his knee.
“Shit,” Roman grips the bar.
Callum doesn’t say a word, though I see his jaw clench. Easy for him, if this thing goes over he just turns into a raven and flies off. Roman and I will be screwed. It’s almost like Callum can hear what I’m thinking. He looks across at me and gives me a slow smile and a wink, like everything’s gonna be okay. I raise my eyebrows and look away. Maybe it will and maybe it won’t. But we’re on this ride now.
Cooper pul
ls the wheel sharply right and the vehicle lurches up a sharp incline. I scream and grab Roman.
Zan screams, too, but it’s not the same. At all. She yelps with whooping excitement.
I think we’re going to die, but the jeep pops up over the ridge and flies in the air, landing on almost level ground. The jeep jostles through random holes and small ditches until Cooper pulls it to a skidding halt, into the shrubs.
“Holy shit,” Roman says.
“That might not have been the best idea,” Callum mutters, slipping out of the jeep.
“Couldn’t we have just walked that distance?” I punch Cooper in the shoulder.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Cooper laughs as Zan lets out a howl.
Roman looks at her and then his eyes shift to Cooper. His jaw clenches and he stands up between us in the back of the jeep and leaps out the back.
“What’s with you?” I ask.
He just shakes his head and walks off.
“You okay?” Callum puts his arm around my shoulder and kisses me on the top of the head.
I nod and lean into him. “Well, I’m not hurtling down the side of a mountain, so that’s a good start,” I murmur.
Cooper and Zan unloads boxes from the back of the jeep. “Grab these, will you?” Cooper holds out some boxes to Callum and swaps guns with me. “You better use the .410,” he says, handing me a smaller shotgun. “It has a shorter range, so it’s going to give you more room for error.”
“Sounds good to me,” I grab the light weight gun. “I’m just fine with getting close to the targets.”
“You guys take 20-gauges.” He hands Callum two more shotguns. I assume one of them is for Roman.
“Zan and I will take the 12-gauges. It’s longer range and she’s a pretty good shot.” He smiles and throws his arm around her. Zan looks a little bit awkward, but she doesn’t move. I get the feeling she’s kinda used to it.
And then it strikes me. I’ve been half-asleep the whole time we’ve been up here, caught up in my own melodrama.
“Are you guys betrothed?” I ask. The words come out of my mouth before I can even stop them, because I’m so surprised at the thought I can’t seem to control it.
Callum doesn’t even stop, he just takes the guns and walks away. Zan looks down at her feet and Cooper laughs. “Since the day this little girl was born,” he smiles, like it’s the best news anyone had ever thought of. “My parents were always just waiting for someone to have a little girl.”
Wow.
The whole time that Zan was dating Aiden, there was another guy she was engaged to. I bite my lower lip. Not even knowing what to say.
Congratulations?
That sounds odd in my own head. I don’t know the rules. Is it expected that you date other people before you actually go through your own marriage ceremony?
“So, it’s not just the culture of the Order?” I ask.
“Shifters have had arranged marriages for centuries,” says Zan. “We do what we have to stay alive and keep our secrets. It usually means marrying within our species, and ideally within your clan. So, if we have the opportunity, that’s what we do.”
Her words are for me, but her eyes go to Roman, who is taking the gun from Callum and checking out the sliding action of the bolt. She really has no idea how he feels about her. I wonder if he knows that she’s engaged to Cooper. He must. He was raised in this culture.
“Careful with the pigeons,” Cooper says, as the box tilts in my arm. “We’ve only got about sixty targets, I think. Ought to be enough for you guys to start hitting them. Not sure how good your aim is. Your shot at corn hole wasn’t actually that bad, but this is a whole different game.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, tilting under the load. “Where am I taking the stuff? It’s heavy.” I can’t stop the irritation dripping in my tone.
“The range is right over there. Zan’s getting it set up.”
I nod and move towards her. Man, I hope I get this. If I can get good at a long-range weapon it could be useful in fighting El Oso. Without any insight into his capabilities, it’s so hard to develop a solid attack plan. That and the fact that we don’t know where he is or what he’s doing… “We need to be doing more research and gaining intelligence.” I growl the words out at Zan.
“One thing at a time,” Zan says.
“Aw, shit!” Cooper exclaim! “Zan, did you pack the arm?”
“The arm?” I ask.
“I think it’s the thing that throws the targets up in the air,” Callum says. “Cooper had them out last night. He was showing them to me. I guess we forgot to pack them up when we finished inspecting them.”
“So, this thing’s a total bust?” I call to Cooper.
“No way,” he says. “Roman, you’ll chuck these up in the air for us, won’t you?”
Roman raises his eyebrows. “It’s not exactly what I had in mind when you said we’re going to the shooting range.”
He actually looks like he wouldn’t mind using Cooper for target practice.
It doesn’t take us long to set up because it mostly consists of standing with our backs to the sun, facing the hillside and holding the guns. Roman’s off to the side, getting ready to hurl the clay pigeons in the sky. The targets are bright red, rounded, and ceramic. They look like discuses. Cooper throws one in the air, giving Roman pointers on height, velocity, and speed. Roman seems much more likely to smash one over Cooper’s head. A fact that Cooper seems keenly oblivious of.
Zan loads her gun, showing me how to do it and then practices her aim as if it’s an everyday occurrence. I didn’t even know she could shoot.
Callum steps a little closer to me and I can feel the heat radiating off his body. I want to sink into it and relax, and sometimes I want nothing more than just to be his girlfriend. I don’t want all the trials and tribulations of the Order. I don’t want the effort of being a shifter, looking for my father. And I sure as hell don’t want this collar around my neck for the rest of my life.
My hand reaches for it inadvertently, fingers tips running over the metal.
“Does it hurt?” Callum asks, his eyes flashing cold anger.
“No.” I lie. “It’s fine.” The last thing he needs is to worry about me. I know he came up here to help me, but I also know how much he misses his Ravensgaard. It’s obvious in the way he’s spending time with Cooper and enjoying the comradery of working together.
“You know,” I mention softly, “it’s okay if you want to go back.”
A surge of pain crosses his face, as if it’s almost physical.
“I know how much you miss them.” I smile and press my hand against his cheek. “But you know I can’t replace them. I can’t be everything you’ll lose to be with me.”
He nods. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night, about how everybody’s betrothed and expecting these planned out lives with each other. And that’s something that shifters kind of do naturally, but also we’re raised to expect that we will be betrothed young and stay together for ever. It would be normal to you if you were raised like us.”
“But I wasn’t.”
No. I wasn’t.
Zan takes aim as Roman throws a clay pigeon in the air. She tracks it with the sights on the gun and gentle squeezes the trigger. The pigeon explodes in red shards against the blue sky and pellets fly into the mountain.
“Listen,” Callum says, pulling me in front of him and lifting my chin so I’m looking in his eyes. “Now is not the time to worry about me and the Ravensgaard. You have enough on your mind without that. Let me take care of me and we’ll figure out how to save your dad and get the collar off together. Then maybe, if I’m lucky, we can start talking about a relationship, okay?”
My eyes mist over a bit and I blink really hard to stop any of it from showing. Now is not the time to blubber like an idiot and throw myself into Callum’s arms. He can’t solve all my problems. I have to figure this one out and not drag people down with me.
“Yo
u guys going to keep yammering, or step up to the plate and show us what you’ve got?” Cooper drawls.
I haven’t even been paying any attention to what they’re doing, even with the sounds of gunshots filling into the air. But the ground is littered with the bodies of red clay pigeons. They’ve killed every target Roman threw in the air. Clearly, they don’t need the practice. I eye the weapon wearily. Having never shot a gun in my life, I most certainly do need target practice. I only hope I don’t shoot someone in the process.
16
I move to the shooting position, holding the gun awkwardly, but at least I have it pointed in the air. We stand in silence before Callum leans over and whispers, “You’ve got to call it.”
“Call what?”
“The release. Roman is not going to throw until you tell him to. You have to make sure the gun’s ready.” Callum explains.
“What do I say? Release the pigeon?”
Callum laughs. “No. The code word is ‘Pull.”
“Pull!” I cry, not even knowing what to expect. It’s way too fast. A bright red disc sails through the air super-fast. I pull the trigger and the gun slams against my shoulder as the pigeon sails happily on before crashing to the earth.
It’s a lot harder than it looks.
I aim again. Totally ready.
“Pull!” I yell.
Roman throws another red pigeon and I track it with the tip of the barrel, pulling the trigger with perfect aim. The target sails unencumbered by my attempt before it descends to earth, shattering against a rock. My face burns, but I keep reload and train the gun at the sky.
“You don’t want to aim where the clay pigeon is,” Cooper says. “You want to aim where it’s going to be by the time the load of shot actually gets to where it’s going.”
I nod. But I don’t know how to determine exactly where it’s going to go and when I’m supposed to pull the trigger. I fire anyway. Because we’re up here to get better. And if there’s one thing I learned from the shifters, if you want to get better, you have to put in the time. You have to try.
I’m going to try.