Wild Spirit: Huntress

by Victoria Wren

  Ella listened intently, her eyes misting. “So he’s getting help from Rosene’s dad? It makes sense. He could help Luke find a place to stay.” She cleared her throat and nodded more to herself. “But it doesn’t mean they are back together? Does it?”

  Win bit her lip. “I don’t know. I don’t think he feels the same way he used to. About her.”

  “It's fine,” Ella affirmed, her smile not reaching her eyes. “Luke and I are friends, Win. We keep saying it, and you don’t believe us. Nothing’s happened between us. Nothing has changed.”

  Win rolled her eyes. Total lies! Everything had changed. Win could feel it in her core. Ella’s heart missed beats when he accidentally pushed past her, the way his pulse sped up when she touched his hand. She smelled it. It was a strange, slightly gross voyeuristic talent she now possessed.

  “Are you going back in?” Ella changed the subject.

  “I’m going to do another hour.” Win eyed her friend hopefully, giving her shoulder a nudge. “You want to lend me a hand?”

  Ella groaned and followed her back into the house, where the two of them sat cross-legged on the floor for the next forty minutes, going through files and sorting out the endless paperwork. Win’s knees hurt, and she stretched out her legs.

  “Oh, look at this,” Ella said, her voice lifting as she hauled a small wooden box out from under a pile of cushions. It looked like the kind of treasure box you kept old postcards and letters in, a memory box, and on the lid in childish paint was scrawled Jake’s box. “Cute. This must-have belonged to Luke’s dad.” She slid the box into Win’s outstretched fingers.

  Win felt like this wasn’t something for sorting. It felt private, coated in a film of protective dust. Despite that, her curiosity burned, and she flipped the lid, revealing what she had expected: letters, cards, and mementos. She held one up. It was a handmade birthday card, a crude pencil drawing of the front of a house, and what resembled two people holding hands. Inside it read ‘Happy Birthday, Daddy. I love you, from Luke.’

  “Oh, this is so sweet…look!” Win handed Ella the card, and she made a similar cooing noise. It was impossible to envision Luke young enough to have written this, eager to please his father. It was sad and even more touching it had been kept all these years. Could Luke’s father really be that bad? It was the sort of thing her father would have done, kept her old drawings, letters and scribbles as keepsakes.

  “Can you believe he’s doing this?” Win said aloud. “Is it the right thing for him?”

  Ella was looking down, staring at some files in her hands. “He doesn’t want to be around his family anymore. Going to Hawaii terrifies him, his dad, and the stepmom….”

  Win lifted her chin, watching Ella closely. It was sweet how well she and Luke had bonded over the summer, working together, hanging out. Win guessed there were things he spoke to her about in private. It still baffled her they weren’t dating. Ella was clearly, hopelessly, in love with him. And he seemed interested in Ella too.

  “I guess, but it’s so final…” she let words trail away, and Ella shrugged sadly.

  “You have a wonderful, warm family who loves you,” she pointed out. “It’s different for him.”

  Win didn’t answer. She flicked through the remainder of the box of treasures, about to close the lid when a Polaroid floated into her lap. Win’s mouth dropped open, snatching up the old photo of a boy Luke’s age in football gear. “Oh my god…look!” First glance, she would have said it was Luke, same jaw, same hair color and eyes, the similar steely look. But his mouth was slightly different, his nose straighter. A rush of blood flew to her face.

  Ella frowned, snatching the photo. Her eyes widened. “Oh…is that….”

  “Jake…unless Luke has a long-lost brother he doesn’t know about,” Win laughed, and they both looked at one another and grinned, obviously thinking the same thing.

  Ella blushed to her roots. “I’m fairly certain I would have seen a guy like him at school!” she said. They both giggled, conspiratorial in thought. “We know where Luke gets his looks from!”

  Win fanned her face, blushing. “He’s model handsome!”

  Ella burst out laughing. “Put it back in the box. And for god sake, don’t mention it to Luke — he hates being compared to him!”

  Win chuckled, getting to her feet, sliding the box out of sight, feeling a slight melancholy it had been disregarded up here all these years. They said goodbye to Judy in the hall, glad to be back outside where the breeze was warm. The tip of her nose was still cold.

  “I’ll come over tomorrow if you like,” Ella said once they were out the door. “I’ve got the breakfast shift at the bar, but I’ll be done by ten.”

  “Thank you!” Win gave her a hug. “Come here when you’re done. I want to go home and shower. And I need to talk to Grandpa…about the sister he failed to mention.”

  Ella gasped. “Is this Iris? Oh my god, this is huge.”

  Win stood up and pulled her friend up alongside her. “I don’t know anything else…or why I need to find her.”

  They wandered back through the courtyard, stopping momentarily by the topiary hedge cut into the shape of a rabbit. Or was it a hare? Its ears were long and pointed—alert. Win had noticed it when they rushed in here during the game of chase months ago. It was odd to have one hedge trimmed like a rabbit when all the others were box-shaped. Lifting her brows, she shrugged away the feeling, her eyes darting across the building, seeking out the porthole window she’d been staring out of only an hour ago.

  “Oh…” Win’s mouth dropped. Cold fingers gripped her throat.

  “What is it?” Ella’s head snapped in her direction. “You want a lift home? Win? You okay?”

  Win’s face paled in the sun. She tore her eyes away, convincing herself she hadn’t seen anything at the window. It had been so fleeting; she had to have imagined it. But as Ella unlocked her car and they jogged across the gravel, Win didn’t dare bring herself to look back, in case she had been right. And she had, in a brief flicker of a moment, seen a woman staring down at them from the porthole window. And she was still watching.

  Five

  WIN STOOD MOTIONLESS in the driveway of Hickory House, her eyes shut and an afternoon breeze rustling her hair. Ella pulled away, the sound of her tires slowly crunching out onto the main road fading, and she was left with the muffled voices she could hear inside the house.

  It was her father and Rowan. They were arguing. Win could tell by Rowan’s elevated pitch; her inflections rose and fell in exasperation and her father’s slow drawl.

  Another day, another fight. Ben’s arrival hadn’t been smooth. There was time lost between them. The father-daughter bond splintered five years ago when he’d left her here, a sullen, moody, and difficult teenager—a teenager who was out of control.

  But not in the way you would expect. Rowan had been going through her call; her mutation into her animal had begun. Ben had been at his wit's end, not knowing how to help her but also not wanting to witness her change as he had with his beloved Alice, their mother.

  Win stepped closer to the house, hands in pockets, and decided she couldn’t keep spying like this. She shook out her curls and tried to muffle their voices in her head. She’d go upstairs and put on her headphones if she had to. But when her foot reached the bottom step, her father’s voice spoke in her head as clear as a pane of glass. It actually stung. Win grimaced.

  “I just want to be sure you are sure. This is all very new,” Ben pleaded.

  Win blinked away the fragments of pain, coiling up on the bottom step. She knew she shouldn’t listen in, but this was way too juicy.

  “I don’t understand what the problem is. I thought you would be happy.” Rowan sounded dejected and flat, like the sun had gone out of her voice.

  “It’s not a problem. I have no issue, believe me. If you are happy, I’m happy.” He was trying to state his case. Rowan sighed loudly. “But with everything going on
…it’s so soon. You were with Spencer for years. I don’t think you should jump into something new.”

  “She knows, Dad,” Rowan admitted. Win heard his sharp intake of breath. “She knows all about me.”

  “Is that wise? I mean—”

  “Look, she’s coming to the festival on Friday. You can meet her there.”

  Win’s mouth fell open. Rowan was in a relationship and not with a man—a woman. Win’s cheeks burned with color. She would have never thought…never imagined. Rowan with a woman? The smell, that sweet sugary smell, clinging to her skin. Win had known that it wasn’t hers; she should have guessed. She felt so foolish that she could have missed something so important. But she’d been missing a lot lately.

  The porch door slammed open, and Rowan stared down at her with her arms crossed. Their eyes met, Rowan looked abashed, apprehensive, unsure of what her younger sister’s reaction would be.

  “Listening in again?” Rowan snapped.

  Win rose to her feet sheepishly. Her sister looked tense, as though this moment had built in her mind, and right now, she needed to run— run off her energy, run away from the questions her family were compelled to ask.

  “Sorry…I couldn’t help it,” Win said.

  Rowan stalked past her. She was dressed in her running gear. She jogged lightly down the steps, her hair tossing side to side in a high ponytail. “Hear anything of interest?” she flung at her, fitting her earbuds in place, jogging on the spot and kicking up stones. She kept her eyes down. She was flustered, Win could tell.

  Win held up her hands. “I only heard a few things.”

  “Well, perhaps you’ll be more supportive than Dad!”

  Win held up her hands in defense, her cheeks flaming red. “I’m happy for you…I have no problem…if you like her…oh god!” She covered her eyes with her hands. “I’m rambling—you’ve taken me by surprise. I’m happy for you…and I want to meet her!”

  Rowan cracked a smile, despite Win’s stuttering mess. “Thanks. She’s been good for me.”

  Yeah, that’s what you said about Spencer, Win thought to herself. “So, this is new?” Win tried to smile, attempting to broach the sensitive subject, but it didn’t make it past her lips. “I didn’t realize.”

  Rowan’s expression was easy to read. Win could sense what she was thinking. The lonely, dark thoughts sometimes clouded Rowan’s mind. She’d been left behind by her father, and they had no right to presume to know her. Win realized she was still getting to know her big sister after such a long time apart.

  Rowan let her hands lift at her sides, slapping them lightly against her legs. “I’m not fond of labels. I don’t know. Maybe it’s down to all the therapy Dad sent me to when I was a kid? I’m open-minded.”

  Win smiled in encouragement. “I’m happy for you, really. When do we get to meet her?”

  “Well, Dad is being difficult, but hopefully at the fair?” Rowan replied. She seemed relieved, the tension melting out of the creases around her eyes. “She’s nice.”

  Rowan broke into a jog, but Win called her back.

  “Wait…did you know? About Spencer?”

  Rowan’s glance was downcast. “I heard,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “He hasn’t been in touch?”

  “No.” Rowan paused her jogging, stretching her legs. “I wouldn’t speak to him even if he tried.”

  “Are you okay? With him being out in the world?”

  Rowan puffed, hands-on-hips. “It scares me. It makes me sick he can just…get away with everything he did. But he isn’t in this town, and I’m not the same person I was when he was around. If he came within a foot of you, I’d kill him!”

  Win let out a shaky breath. She didn’t want to add it hadn’t been only her Spencer had wanted dead. He’d controlled Rowan for years, working from the inside, planning and waiting to make his move. The fact he could have ended her life at any time was horrifying.

  Win changed the subject. “I need to talk to Grandpa. Have you seen him?”

  Rowan shook her head. “He’s been gone all afternoon,” she said. “But I’ll circle overhead when I get back?”

  Win agreed but thought she would find him first on foot. The breeze whipped up faster, and the sky threatened rain. She bit her lip, if she were to track his scent, she would have to do it before the rain came down.

  Her stomach coiled in foreboding. Why did she have such a bad feeling? Who was Iris, and why had this vision come to her now?

  Win ran inside, the porch door slamming behind her. She ran up behind her father, who was drinking a coffee at the breakfast bar. He jerked in surprise. “You going back out?”

  Win grabbed her dark green coat. The one Grayson had given her the night of the bonfire. “I won’t be long. I don’t want Grandpa to get left out in the rain.”

  Ben’s brow furrowed deeply. “Shall I take a drive and see if he’s in town? I must admit I thought he was probably at the bar.”

  “I’ll be quicker on foot,” Win assured him, pulling the hood up around her hair. “But if he comes back, call me?”

  Teardrops of rain pelted the heavy green fabric as she sprinted across the yard, the air stinging the back of her throat. She picked up speed, darting through the undergrowth. Her feet flew across dirt and dead leaves. She stopped herself and pinned back her ears, lifting her nose to the air.

  Grandpa, where are you? The claggy scent of wet earth filled her nose. She followed the scent, something distinct wafted across her path. She ducked her head and found it was easier to get lower. She took in great gasps of air. It was engine oil she smelled.

  She slowed to a walk, kicking up the leaves and keeping her eyes focussed. Rowan’s revelation was still burning in the forefront of her mind. She hated to admit it, but she agreed with her father. Spencer had been gone for only a few months. But he had been in control for years. Finally, Rowan could set out on her own path, able to be the free spirit he had held back, all under the guise of love. And now she was in another relationship? Shoving her hands in the warm pockets, Win turned her head into the fabric, Grayson’s scent still lingering there. She had no right to judge Rowan, not after the way she’d been behaving all summer.

  Win hoped Rowan knew what she was doing. But it was too soon, wasn’t it? Win’s head snapped up. A thick oily scent lingered here. She ducked her head and followed it along a path through some cedar pines.

  Where is he? Why is he even out here? Win broke into a sprint when the smell filled her nose completely.

  She flew across the forest, weaving in and out of tall pines and silver spruces, following the trail. When it seemed to go cold, she stopped, her heart still racing, but not from exhaustion, with fear.

  “Grandpa?” she cried out, her own voice echoing back to her. Up above, the rain had started to fall in sheets, the August heat swelling the clouds to bursting point. It clattered against the canopy, soaking through to the ground below. “Grandpa?” she cried again.

  Eyes were hot on her back. The growl emitted deep within the bowels of his chest, a gentle rumble, but still terrifying. Win turned slowly, meeting those curious yellow eyes, tracking her every move. She took down her hood.

  The wolf stood at over four feet tall, its shaggy grey fur ragged and matted around his face. He lifted his snout and sniffed her out. Win smiled gratefully. “Grandpa, it’s me, Win,” she said, taking a step closer. Blood was smeared on his muzzle, and she froze. Her heart lurched in her chest; she carefully wound her leg back one step.

  “Grandpa...” she lifted her hand passively, splatters of rain caressing her skin. “It’s me. Let’s get you home, okay?”

  His pupils were wide and black. Empty. Win suppressed a shiver, she had to get through to him. She lifted up both palms in defense. The wolf snarled, streams of saliva pooling at the sides of his mouth.

  “Grandpa,” she spoke softly. His jaw snapped in a bark. Win flinched and crouched down, knees trembling. Above,
the skies emptied down, her red hair slick to her scalp. The wolf snarled and edged closer.

  Win… a voice called from a high place. Her eyes stole away in the direction of the voice and spotted the falcon perched up high in a tree.

  You need to submit. Win was shaking, her breath coming in pants.

  “What?” she called. Luckily the wolf hadn’t realized they were being watched. Win tried to look at the falcon through wet lashes.

  Submit. Get on your knees, bow your head. Trust me. He’s the alpha of the family.

  Her entire being trembling, Win slowly lowered herself to the ground until her palms were flat on the soil. Wet leaves were slick under her fingers. She rested her forehead on the ground. In her peripheral vision, she saw him move, and something inside her seized. She was so afraid she thought she might actually be sick. He came closer, his chest rumbling. Shivers erupted down her spine as his hot breath tickled the back of her neck. He snorted and sniffed his nose in her hair.

  Win squeezed her eyes tight.

  Hold on. Hold on—one wrong move. Don’t scream.

  A tear trickled out from under her lashes. Her lips pressed together to withhold her gasping breaths. She dared to look but wished she hadn’t. Wet, shining fangs were inches from her face. She smelt his kill on his breath. Win gasped and ducked her head again.

  “Grandpa, what’s wrong with you?” she hissed.

  Keep calm, the falcon urged. Keep calm. The wolf revealed its teeth, shining and glinting with saliva. For one fleeting moment, Win wondered if she could fight back or if she was fast enough to outrun him. She didn’t want to fight him. But she willed strength to her muscles, trying to dissolve the fear. His growl was guttural, and Win dropped to her stomach, her arms crossing over her head. There was a cry from above, a long, powerful screech filling her head.

  Win, roll left…now! It was Rowan.

  Win tucked and rolled as the wolf lunged. She was on her feet, scrambling away through the dirt, when she saw the eagle swoop, dive-bombing him with her talons bared. The wolf yelped as sharp claws tore across his back, blood splattering like paint.