Red

by Kait Nolan

  It didn’t take long, maybe fifteen minutes, before she emerged again, the backpack empty. I tried to read her expression as she fitted the cover back into place, effectively concealing the entrance to the cave. Was she guilty? Pleased? Somehow afraid? But the only thing I could detect was the perpetual sadness that fit her like a second skin.

  The melancholy really bugged me. It lingered, even when I managed to make her smile, which was a rarity. She had this quiet acceptance, like somebody who was battling a terminal disease and had only a few months to live. She had her whole life ahead of her once she got out of this town. Maybe, with her dad’s reservations, she didn’t feel like that was possible. We’d see about that.

  She didn’t linger. As soon as the cover was back in place, Elodie was on her way back the up the hill. I waited until she’d crested over to the other side before easing from my observation point and heading down to the cave. Naturally I didn’t have a flashlight, so I moved the cover entirely away to catch as much of the lowering afternoon light as possible. After a quick check over my shoulder to make sure Elodie hadn’t come back for something, I slipped inside.

  I had to stoop. The front of the cave was maybe five feet high. Making my way through a combination of squinting and feeling with my hands, I discovered that after about fifteen feet, it opened up enough that I could stand. I waited for my eyes to adjust, my internal clock winding tighter with each minute Elodie was ahead of me, unprotected. Gradually I started making out shapes.

  Stacked neatly in a corner between the cave wall and a huge rock that had, at some time past, fallen from the ceiling, were a dozen gallon water jugs. Beside them was an equally organized collection of canned goods. I moved closer and found all sorts of other non-perishable food staples—jerky, beans, rice—most of it in containers designed to keep out the critters. Along the opposite wall, I found a small camp stove, some of that compact cooking gear that multi-tasked as cook pots and plates and stuff, fuel, and a propane lantern. Some of it was covered in dust, enough that I could tell it had been here a while. Some was new, presumably what she’d brought in today. There were enough supplies in here that someone could last for several weeks at least. Longer if they supplemented with fish, game, and other sources of food out in the wild. Given everything else Elodie knew about mountaineering and survival, I suspected she was perfectly capable on that front too.

  What the hell was all this? I mean, it was obvious what it was, but why was it here? Why was she stockpiling supplies in the middle of the park? She struck me as the kind of girl who always had a contingency plan. But contingency for what? Running away? What reason would she have to do that, unless things at home with her dad were worse than I realized. No. This struck me as something he might have taught her. What was it she’d said yesterday?

  This is what I’ve trained for, what you’ve made me.

  He was preparing her for something. But what? Surely this wasn’t all some excessive response to her mother’s death. From what Elodie had said, she’d died at her own hand, not because she had no wilderness survival skills. It all seemed to circle back to the secret she was keeping. Which was evidently cause to be prepared to run and hide. I’d hoped that following her out here today would shed some light on things, but all it had done was stir up more questions.

  I touched nothing, instead backing out of the cave and replacing the cover exactly as she’d left it. Then I struck out behind her, intent on seeing her home before darkness fell.

  ~*~

  Elodie

  “C’mon baby, just get me to the pump.” I glared at the needle hovering below E, as if that would somehow scare the car into making it up the road to Hansen’s in the event my encouragement failed. I’d never had a car. I wasn’t used to keeping an eye on the gas tank. Sue me.

  As my tires bumped across the dip at the parking lot to Hansen’s, I could swear I heard a sort of gasping hiss, as if the car were dying of thirst. But I rolled up to a stop beside the pump. I thought about cheering, but that would draw attention. Instead, I got out, cool as a cucumber, and set the gas to pump. Then I grabbed the squeegee thing and started cleaning the windows. My car might not win any beauty contests, but she deserved to be treated well. That was a Rule in the Rose household.

  “Well, well, well, look who has new wheels.”

  My hand fisted around the squeegee. Amber. Just what I needed to start my day. I hadn’t seen her car as I rolled in. I pretended not to hear her and continued on about my window washing. Swish in the cleaning fluid. Swipe across the window. Scrub the dirty spots. Squeegee dry. Swish. Swipe. Scrub. Squeegee.

  Amber circled on around, and I noted in my peripheral vision that she seemed to be without her entourage this morning. Perhaps with no audience to her torments, she’d finish up this round of insults and leave.

  “It's a good thing you spend your money on your wardrobe instead of your car. Oh . . . Oops.”

  Insults about my apparel weren’t new, so there was no reason to dignify them with a reply. She is not in my dimension, I told myself, therefore, she cannot bother me.

  Swish. Swipe. Scrub. Squeegee.

  She clearly wasn’t taking the hint. She continued to circle around, taking in all sides of the car. “Seriously though, I love your car. It so fits your thrift store reject chic.”

  Bully for me. I didn’t even roll my eyes, just continued washing windows. Swish. Swipe. Scrub. Squeegee.

  “I mean, rust is so your color.”

  Swish. Swipe. Scrub. Squeegee. I realized I’d moved on around for a second cleaning, but I kept going because I needed something to keep me from interacting with Amber. And by God, these windows were going to freaking sparkle.

  "I bet it’ll go zero to sixty in however long it will take you to get a date. Never!"

  I could ride my bike even faster before you fucking destroyed it, you bitch. My knuckles were white on the handle, but I kept moving. Swish. Swipe. Scrub. Squeegee.

  “But you obviously haven’t given up hope of that, have you. I mean look at this new look you’ve got going on. You’re making an effort to actually look like a girl instead of a refugee.”

  I gritted my teeth. I had no idea what she was talking about. I was dressing exactly as I always dressed. Low-key, neutral colors, no makeup. Nothing that said, Notice me.

  Swish.

  Amber moved directly into my path back to the car, forcing me to face her. I didn’t look her in the face, keeping my eyes on the tiny diamonds glinting in her butterfly necklace. Submissive, though I felt as if I would burst from my skin any moment.

  “Maybe you’re thinking that saving his life means you can actually get somewhere with Rich. But let me tell you something. A guy like Rich would never be interested in a girl like you for real. All he and any other guy wants from you is to get into your pants, just like your daddy did with your mama. He just didn’t count on getting stuck with you.”

  All the suppressed and diverted emotions from the last four years coalesced into a pure, boiling rage. Her neck felt small and fragile in my hand, and her body made a satisfying thump against the gas pump as I slammed her against it. My lips curled in a snarl and a low growl rumbled in my throat. Amber’s eyes bulged with shock. Her hands scrabbled frantically at my wrist. I could feel her rabbit fast pulse beneath my fingers and almost smiled. After all the terrorizing she’d done to me and to others, the scent of her fear was incredibly gratifying. For once I was the one in control.

  “Elodie, let her go.”

  The voice was calm and low. For a minute I thought it might be the distant voice of my conscience, which had taken a back seat to this show. Then a hand gripped my shoulder. I growled in warning.

  “She’s not worth it.”

  What was he talking about? Of course it was worth it. This bitch had made my life a living hell for the last four years. I was going to sleep like a baby with the sounds of her gasping panic in my ears.

  “Ellie. Look at me.”

  I cocked my head at the
name. No one called me Ellie except Dad. A trickle of oh shit bled into the satisfaction of my power trip as I turned my head slowly.

  Not Dad. Sawyer.

  A little bit of sanity started limping through my brain. I was assaulting Amber. In a public place. And I was growling like an angry dog. No, like a wolf.

  If Sawyer was alarmed at my behavior, he didn’t show it. The hand he’d curled around my shoulder began to rub rhythmically, his thumb making circles in the knot of my shoulder muscles.

  “You’ve made your point. She deserved it. Now let her go,” he said.

  I looked back at Amber. She was whimpering. Just a scared, weak thing at my mercy. Behind me, the gas pump clicked off, my tank full. The sound was the last thing to snap me back to reality.

  “You are a self-absorbed, entitled bitch,” I told her. “You lift yourself up by tearing everyone else down because that’s easier than turning yourself into an example of a decent human being. I don’t know what I ever did to get on your radar, but I swear to God, now you’re on mine. Stay the hell away from me.”

  Reluctantly, I uncurled my fingers from around her throat.

  She stumbled back, gasping. “I’ll . . . ” Wheeze. “I’ll press charges!”

  A cold wave of dread washed through me.

  “You and what witness?” asked Sawyer, putting an arm around me.

  Amber looked over toward the store. Slowly, I followed her gaze. Mr. Hansen stood on the sidewalk in front of the door, arms crossed, bushy eyebrows drawn down in a scowl.

  There was no need to worry about the best means of ending my own life to wipe out the curse. Dad was absolutely going to kill me.

  Mr. Hansen looked at me, then looked back at Amber. “I didn’t see nothing.”

  Amber gaped at him, sputtering in protest. I gaped at him, too, in utter disbelief. He was willing to cover for me?

  “I reckon you oughta start shoppin’ at the Double Quick on the other side of town. I hear they even got security cameras there.” He jerked a finger at the glowing red eye pointing down from the awning. “Mine’re just for show.”

  I started muttering silent prayers of thanks to every deity I could think of as Amber got into her Barbie Jeep and drove away.

  Sawyer used the arm around my shoulders to maneuver me into a hug, and I let him. Because now that it was all over, I was shaking like a leaf. All that adrenaline had dumped into my system and no longer had anywhere else to go.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  A bark of laughter escaped before I could stop it. The question was so ludicrous. I’d just accosted someone, and he was asking if I was okay? But the patent truth of the matter was that I was most definitely not okay. I’d just broken every Rule my father had ever given me, including some that hadn’t been covered because their eventuality was so outlandish, he hadn’t felt the need to mention it. Well, every Rule but one.

  I pushed away from Sawyer, letting my hand linger on his chest before I dropped it and looked over to Mr. Hansen. Time to face the music.

  “She likely will press charges,” I said. “I don’t want you getting into trouble for protecting me.”

  “Anybody asks, she started it,” he said. “Ain’t nobody gonna fault you for finishin’ it. It’s about time you stood up for yourself. Now go on, get to work. You’ll be late.”

  “I still need to pay for my gas.”

  “On the house,” said Mr. Hansen, his face breaking into a wrinkled grin. “That’s the best entertainment I’ve had in months.” He made a shooing motion, then went back inside.

  I scrubbed both hands over my face. Oh, what have I done. I wasn’t an aggressive person. I wasn’t. I’d never been in a fight in my life. Never not backed down from a confrontation. And yet for a few fleeting moments, I had actually considered . . . killing her.

  Whatever blood was left, drained out of my face at the thought. I reached for the gas nozzle.

  “It isn’t true,” said Sawyer.

  “What isn’t true?” I asked, carefully replacing the nozzle and screwing on my gas cap. Anything to keep from looking at him.

  “What she said about your mother and about you.”

  Well I just didn’t know what to do with that, so I shoved it on some shelf in the back of my brain to think about later. “Doesn’t matter whether it’s true or not. I shouldn’t have let her get to me. I shouldn’t have done . . . that. Whether she presses formal charges or not, she’ll find some way to retaliate. It’s how she operates. And I just really didn’t need that.”

  “Elodie . . . ” He snagged my arm, turning me toward him, tipping my chin up so I had to meet his eyes. He looked grave and intense and . . . I don’t know . . . purposeful in a way that made my mouth go dry and my stomach drop somewhere around my feet.

  “You are amazing,” he said in a measured voice. “You’re smart, funny, beautiful, and any guy would be lucky to have you in his life. You have no idea how lucky I am to have you in mine.”

  I swallowed. Where was he going with this?

  His hand shifted to cup my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. I knew I should put a stop to this. Pull away. Deflect. Something. But all I could do was stare up at him and pray I wasn’t gaping like a fish.

  “Sawyer!”

  I jolted back, guilty, as Dr. McGrath rolled to a stop on the other side of my car. He looked pissed. Not in the thundercloud hovering over his head furious way my dad was prone to, but a definite expression of disapproval was etched on his weathered face. There was probably a Rule against fraternizing with your boss’s son. I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or grateful that he’d saved me from . . . well, I didn’t know exactly what he’d saved me from other than something that probably would have headed toward breaking that last Rule.

  Sawyer dropped his hands, disappointment and annoyance warring in his eyes before resignation beat them both. “Yes?”

  “Coffee, son. Let’s go. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sawyer muttered.

  I reached blindly for my car door. “I’ll see you at work,” I muttered.

  “Yeah. Okay,” he said.

  Dr. McGrath sat there, truck idling until Sawyer trudged toward Hansen’s to make the morning coffee run. Apparently it was his turn. When he turned his gaze on me, his expression softened. “Good morning.”

  Okay so maybe he wasn’t pissed at me? I mumbled something that I hoped was good morning, then gave a half wave and escaped to my car.

  Chapter 7

  Sawyer

  Elodie was gone by the time I made it out with the two cardboard trays of coffee.

  Damn it, damn it, damn it. I was finally getting through her defenses. We were having a frigging moment. Dad just had to show up right then. Not that I knew exactly what I was going to say or do if he hadn’t. I was too busy trying to keep my emotions, my reactions in check so as not to scare her. Again.

  Because now I knew for sure. I wasn’t crazy, and I didn’t have to stay away from her. When she’d turned from the bully girl to look at me, her eyes were gold.

  Elodie was a wolf. Like me.

  Or she would be very soon. I didn’t think she’d shifted yet. She was late. Not unheard of, but not common either. Maybe it was because she was half human. I wasn’t all together sure if she truly knew what was happening to her. She certainly didn’t seem to recognize me for what I was. But it fit with her strange behavior. She was coming into her sharpened senses. And the aggression . . . I didn’t want to think what she might have done to that girl if I hadn’t shown up. No matter that the bitch deserved it.

  Elodie needed to be taught. Trained to control the wolf. I couldn’t imagine facing the change without having both parents to explain and support me. Up to now she’d had no one.

  Well now she had me. And I had to find a way to talk to her about it. In private.

  How was that conversation liable to go, I wondered as I headed toward the research station.

  I know you’re a werewolf.
So am I. Let’s talk. Direct much? No.

  Is there something you’ve been keeping from me? That could cover any number of things. Not specific enough.

  Have you been having headaches? Body chills? Super sensitive hearing and smell? I know just the diagnosis for you. Please dial 1-800-456-WOLF. Infomercial cheese. I think not.

  Do I smell different to you?

  After trying out and rejecting another dozen possibilities by the time I made it to the lab, I concluded there was no good way to broach this subject. I’d just have to wing it. Grabbing the coffee trays, I headed for the door.

  The trailer was empty but for my father, who sat looking over some report or other.

  “Where’s Elodie,” I asked.

  “Out in the field with Patrick and the others,” said Dad. “They’re up near Tremont today.”

  I turned to go, coffee trays in hand, already calculating how much lead time they had. “Okay. I’ll catch up with them before the coffee gets cold.”

  “No.” He didn’t shout it. That wasn’t Dad’s way, it was mine and—had been—Mom’s. But dad didn’t have to. I felt the full force of an alpha behind the command, so I stopped, facing the door and scrabbling for some kind of hold on the instant roar of temper.

  “No?” I said, aiming for casual. I missed by a mile and came somewhere closer to belligerent.

  “No,” he repeated. “You’re with me today. I need to talk to you.”

  “About?”

  “Elodie.”

  My hands curled to fists before I could stop them. “What about her?”

  “Son, what the hell are you doing with that girl?”

  I turned, wielding the comfortable shield of sarcasm. “I believe the popular term for it is being her friend.”