Wild Spirit: Huntress

by Victoria Wren

  Win leaned closer, grabbing her grandfather’s forearm. “Grandpa…he was the one who untied you at the bonfire. Don’t you remember? Spencer knocked you out. It was Grayson who found you.”

  John rubbed his chin, thinking a moment, raking a hand through his thick grey hair. “I don’t remember much.”

  “Well, it was him…and...” Win, elated she was finally able to speak about this, rushed her words. “When I was little, you remember…when I fell in the pit?”

  “You mean when Spencer pushed you in?” John growled at the memory.

  “Well, yes. It was Grayson who lifted me out. He scared Spencer off…if he hadn’t…” Win cowered at the memory of the moment where a boy had held a rock bigger than his head, how he’d been about to kill her.

  John was nodding, reliving his own recollections of that day. “So, where does he come from? Who are his parents?”

  Win swallowed meekly. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ve never seen him around town before—and I’ve been around long enough to know everyone. He looked familiar. You don’t know anything about him?”

  Win felt the blush in her cheeks, her foolishness making her skin prickle, and the silence lingered between them told him everything he needed to know. The truth was she didn’t want to know. The night of the bonfire Grayson had revealed that his family had watched the Hickorys over the years, in case they ever stepped out of line. But Grayson was alone now. He had no family that she knew of. She swallowed in shame, her stupidity dawning on her. She’d never even asked! Too wrapped up with how she felt about him to care. Her grandfather pulled up straight, staring daggers at her.

  “And you’ve been seeing him…all this time? A guy you know nothing about?”

  “Yes…but—”

  “Winifred,” he spluttered. “It’s beyond reckless. You don’t know a thing about him. And he knows about you? What we are?”

  “Yes, but Grandpa…I trust him. I know him.”

  “Does he have a job? A home? Does he live out in the woods…how long has he been watching you?”

  Win swallowed, humiliated tears bubbling up in her throat. She could feel her temples pulsing, her irritation swelling. “I don’t know.”

  John spluttered. “For pity’s sake, Win!” He covered his eyes. “Oh god…how serious is this?”

  Win jumped up from the bed as if she’d been stung, dragging the sheets with her. “It isn’t any of your business!”

  He stood, firmly planted on the other side of the bed. Win’s shoulders drew up around her ears; she could feel the heat rising in her body, her pulse firing under her skin. John held up his hands in defense.

  “Win, calm down. Remember what were we talking about? I want to keep you safe.”

  “Calm down?” she spat. “Everyone lies to me. Everyone. He is the only one who talks to me.”

  John’s breathing was becoming more jagged, labored. There was a dark gleam in his eye. “Not true. You know nothing about this boy.”

  “I know everything I need to. He doesn’t lie.”

  “I have never lied to you! What is this?”

  His eyes were flashing yellow, his teeth bared and gleaming. Win swallowed and stepped close to the window. He shook his head, clutching at his hair; he dipped toward the bed, catching himself on his hand like he could hardly draw breath. The door behind them swung open, and Rowan filled the gap, her face ashen, whirling back and forth between the two of them. Behind her, another figure lurked, a woman with dark hair and honey-colored skin. Evan stared at Win. She sensed the humiliation creeping up her spine as the woman narrowed her eyes.

  “Win, what’s going on?” Rowan asked gently.

  John sneered at Rowan. “Did you know? Did you know she was seeing some man …a stranger who watches us from the woods?”

  Rowan looked too terrified to speak. She nodded. John was livid; he snarled and shook his head. But Win was furious, having had as much humiliation as she could stand the past two days. She pulled back her shoulders and squared up to her grandfather, taking a moment to pause, look at the wooden box and kick it out of sight under the bed.

  Ben appeared in the door, easing past Evan, who was watching the whole scene unfold with interest. Win could feel the tension building in her temples, flashes of light darting across her vision. The noise in her ears was deafening, maddening.

  “You are wrong about him,” she shot back. “He’s been more honest with me than any of you!”

  “Win, calm down,” Ben cried in dismay. “John, for god sake…maybe you better leave.”

  “You don’t know the first thing about him, Win,” John yelled, his temper vile and bubbling, completely ignoring Ben. This wasn’t him. The grandfather she knew would never react this way. Would never look at her like she was something he wanted to gobble up.

  “My whole life…I’ve protected my family…kept our secrets, and there’s you, waltzing around in the woods with a masked man with a crossbow strapped to his back!”

  Something in her head snapped, the red mist fell like a filmy curtain.

  “Oh yeah, great job protecting your family…you did such a great job with Iris. She’s dead!” The words, visceral and venomous, were out of her mouth before she could claw them back. She kicked the box across the shiny wooden floor. It went straight under the bed and out the other side, spilling open at John’s feet, the contents clattering out like a macabre display.

  A collective gasp filled the room, and Win could pinpoint the exact moment she saw her grandfather break. His eyes darkened, and his teeth sharpened to points.

  Rowan gasped, covering her mouth with her hands, shaking her head in despair. “Oh, Win, no!” She clasped her hands together at her lips.

  Win drew in a jagged breath, filling her lungs, mentally preparing herself to face-off, a young cub versus an old wolf. The rational side of her mind was screaming at her for what she had done, her cruelty. She couldn’t see straight. She couldn’t form a coherent thought. John snarled and gnashed his teeth. He dashed past Rowan, bumping her shoulder, knocking her into the wall.

  He crashed down the stairs, and when Ben flew to the window, a giant wolf bounded across the yard, lifting his head in a howl, before casting a yellow-eyed stare back at the house. Evan ran across the room, kneeling at the box, whispering something incoherent under her breath as she gathered the bleached, old bones back into the box.

  “He’s gone,” Ben breathed, his eyes finding his youngest daughter. “Win, what the hell happened?”

  “Dad, don’t talk…look!” Rowan yelled.

  Win was rigid, her hands clenched at her sides, she shook with tremors, tears of pain streaking her face. Win looked down, something sharp brushing her thighs. When she lifted her hands, long sharp claws were piercing through her nail beds, blood trickling down her arms. Her lips parted in a quiver. “Rowan, please help me,” she said, trembling. But there was something more. Win could feel tiny electric sparks whipping at her skin. Her body jolted and convulsed.

  “Rowan, help her!” Ben yelled. He crossed the room, attempted to take his daughter by the shoulders but flew backward. Blue sparks emitted from Win’s body. She writhed and juddered, her face streaked with tears. Her voice was frozen, the pain too much to scream.

  Rowan was on her feet, but Evan was quicker. The dark-haired woman moved through the electricity, letting it roll off her body. She smoothed Win’s damp hair out of her face, she was whispering something gently, but her head was so muffled it was a blur. Evan took Win by the shoulders and guided her to the door. Rowan took her by the wrists, careful to avoid the emerging claws. Ben went to speak, but Rowan urged him away.

  “Dad, we’ll handle this, trust me,” Rowan said as they guided Win out of the door. He didn’t protest, only able to watch in horror as the two older women escorted his youngest child out of the house. Ben stared at the wooden box before reaching down and scooping it up, shutting the lid on the animal remains.

/>   Outside, the air was cold and fresh. Morning dew still clung to the blades of grass. Win’s senses were on fire; her arm hairs stood to attention as Evan rubbed and massaged her aching shoulders. Rowan was pulling her out into the yard, all three of them barefoot and still in their nightclothes.

  Win could feel the sparks dying away, giving her enough time to swallow and catch her breath. She let out a wail of pain. “Rowan.” She fell to her knees.

  The sun was climbing up above the trees. Win shivered, feeling the breeze across her fire-hot skin. Behind her, Evan was whispering, her words soothing, like a balm across her raw nerves. Win still couldn’t make out what she was saying; it was another language. Evan tugged Win down beside her on the grass, where Rowan wrapped her in a blanket she’d swiped from the sofa.

  “Win, it's okay, listen to Evan.” Rowan pulled her sister into a tight embrace.

  “Where is he? Where’s Grandpa?” Win sobbed against Rowan’s chest. Warmth from her sister’s skin seeped through her nightgown; Rowan held onto her fiercely as she trembled.

  “He’ll be alright,” Rowan whispered against her forehead. “Calm down.”

  Win tried to breathe, shutting her tired eyes away from the morning light. Evan’s words were clearer now, like a warm liquid, they drizzled through the cavities of her skull, the pain ebbing away.

  “Mother earth, enlighten what’s dark in her, strengthen what is weak, and mend what is broken…” she said it urgently, over and over.

  Win stilled, letting the warmth spread through her skin, the fierce throbbing in the ends of her fingers beginning to fade, Rowan’s arms tight around her. Another pair of hands were on her shoulders. When she dared open her eyes, Evan was smiling down at her, still whispering the incantation over and over. Win blinked and reached a hand in front of her face; the claws had retracted, leaving a bloody mess around her nail beds.

  Win’s heart dipped to a gentle, steady beat. “I’m a horrible person. I need to find Grandpa.”

  “The last thing either of you needs right now is another confrontation,” Evan said gently, taking hold of Win’s wrist and pulling it back to her side. “He needs to cool off.”

  “So do you.” Rowan looked down at her, her green eyes grave. “I’ve never seen you both so fired up.”

  “I couldn’t control it.” Win tried to sit up, the blanket falling away from her shoulders. She was in a strange circle, in the middle of the two of them on the grass in the yard. Win shielded her eyes against the strong morning sunshine. “When he started on about Grayson….”

  “Hmm, well, I do think that is something we need to discuss,” Rowan muttered dryly. Win’s head snapped in her direction, but Evan grabbed both Win’s wrists in a gentle hold.

  “I think that might wait until after we’ve all had coffee,” Evan said and laughed playfully, giving Win’s hands a shake and squeezing them lightly. There was something soothing about Evan. She was pretty and soft, a contrast to Rowan, who was so tall and athletic, her face sharp angles and edges. Evan’s shiny dark hair fell in waves, and for the first time, Win noticed the light in her brown eyes. Evan threw off an entrancing aura. When she smiled, it was impossible not to return it.

  “Speaking of coffee,” Rowan said, rising to her feet effortlessly. Rowan skipped off to the house, letting the porch door clatter behind her. Win glanced back awkwardly back at her new friend; she snaked gently out of her grip, letting her hands fall in her lap.

  “So, interesting trick,” Win said nervously. “How’d you know how to help me?”

  Evan shrugged, the sunlight beaming off her ebony hair. “Same way I helped your sister. I’m not an ordinary waitress, you know.”

  She grinned, and Win laughed shortly. “Neither is Rowan.”

  Evan leaned forward and gave her a knowing wink. “That’s why I like her. Normal is dull. But to answer your question, I’m a healer. It’s a talent I have had for a long time.”

  Win gazed at her quizzically. “A healer…like a witch?”

  Evan rolled her eyes. “Well, sort of. My father was Native American, and my mother was Salem, born and bred. She died when I was young, but I grew up by the Maine coast with my father’s tribe on the reservation. I learned a lot. I lived here for a while a couple of years back.”

  “Well, whatever you did—it worked.” Win eased back on the grass. She still ached from her frantic run through the forest. “How did you and Rowan meet?”

  “What I told you yesterday about meeting at the diner is true.” Evan played with a strand of her hair fallen across her shoulder. “But the truth is, I was called here.”

  Rowan joined them on the grass. She sat cross-legged next to Win, carefully handing her a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Evan smiled, grateful as Rowan placed another in her eager hands. Win sipped it, letting the foamy, sweet liquid scorch her tongue. She didn’t care. Regret settled in every bone in her body. She deserved to ache after what she had said.

  “You were called here?” Win prompted when they were all settled again.

  Evan leaned toward Rowan and linked fingers with her affectionately. “I was working at a diner in Boston, and one night I felt something in my head. It was so strong, like a scream, something old and primal. It was so intense, I dropped the tray I was carrying,” Evan recalled. “I followed its energy trail here. It was pure anguish, so much pain. I had to come, but I thought I’d lost the trail. After a couple of weeks, I was about to leave when this beautiful redhead wandered into the diner I had been working in.”

  “I see,” Win said, feeling a tad awkward. Something about the way they looked at one another made her feel like a gooseberry. “So the scream…what do you think it was?”

  “We worked out Evan heard it the night of the bonfire,” Rowan said, looking at Win under thick lashes. Win bristled at the memory. Rowan had been shot out of the sky, a bullet piercing her perfect wing. Win had watched her sister plummet to the earth. The scream, whatever Evan had sensed across the psychic paths, must have been linked to that moment.

  “So you’re here for Rowan?” Win probed. Both women smiled sadly and shook their heads in unison.

  “No, Winifred,” Evan said gently. “I’m here for you.”

  Twelve

  WHAT HAD BEGUN as a beautiful morning filled with light slowly darkened under a heavy, thick cloud. When the first spatters of rain fell, Rowan heaved her sister to her feet. They all trudged up the porch steps. Inside it was dry and warm. Aching and sore, Win collapsed onto the living room couch, Rowan sneaking in beside her. Evan was content to sit on the rug.

  No one spoke for a while, all of them breathing and thinking about what had happened. The silence was broken when Ben appeared in the doorway.

  “I’m going to look for John,” he said softly, ruining their daze.

  Rowan sat up, alarmed. “Be careful,” she warned him. “It’s not a good idea to get close to him right now.”

  Ben smiled sheepishly. “I think if I were him, I’d be in the bar in town,” he offered, shoving his hands awkwardly in his pockets. “I’ll check around—you, okay, Win?”

  Win huddled closer to Rowan, her head on her shoulder. Ben nodded, knowing now would be a poor time to lecture her about her love life, and instead, he gave her a warm kiss on the head. He threw his eyes to Evan, the pretty stranger sitting cross-legged on the rug.

  “Not the way we should have been introduced.” He laughed nervously. “But nice to meet you, Evan.” She smiled up at him brightly before he hurried out of the room. Win stretched her neck as she sat up. Rowan watched her carefully, wrapping the blanket tight around her shoulders.

  “Tell us about Iris,” she insisted, and Win sighed, not knowing where to start. But she had to start being honest. She took a deep breath and recounted everything she knew about Iris, she was Grandpa’s younger sister, and she disappeared after marrying Robert. Rowan and Evan listened with rapt attention. Finally, Rowan huffed and folded her arms, settling ba
ck into the cushions.

  “So basically…what you’re saying…is I dated my cousin for five years.” Rowan’s face twisted in disgust, she gave Evan a wane smile. “Great. No wonder Grandpa was so dead against it!”

  “Second or third cousin, I think? Still, he should have said something,” Win said, trying to make it sound better than it was.

  Evan shifted on the rug, folding her knees under her bottom. She knelt toward Rowan, rubbing her hand while she stared miserably up at the ceiling. “Try not to focus on that too much. Sure…it’s unusual. But there was obviously a connection between you.”

  “Yeah, a blood one!” Rowan wrinkled her nose, and Evan snorted laughter. “Uh, god….”

  “Your grandpa didn’t tell you for a reason. He was clearly upset. Distraught. His sister was missing for years, and he was completely shut out by the family she married into.” Evan was trying to convince her, but Rowan pulled her knees up to her chest, folding her arms around them in a hug. She didn’t look in the slightest bit convinced.

  “Poor Grandpa, it’s so awful,” Rowan said after a while, her eyes settling on her younger sister. “If that had happened to you, I don’t know what I would have done.”

  Win smiled gently. Her chin propped on her own knees; she reached out a hand to link with Rowan’s. Rowan squeezed it. “You’re cold,” she said with a frown.

  Win shook her head. “It’s the after-effects…of whatever that was. It happened yesterday, but it was worse…I was with Grayson.”

  Rowan rolled her eyes. “We need to talk about him.”

  Win stiffened, her shoulders tense, a dull ache forming at the base of her neck. “Do we have to?”

  “Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do.” She snorted laughter. “I can’t after all my years secretly dating Spencer. I would have set the world on fire to be with him.”

  Win noticed Evan stiffen and curl her leg up to her chest. She kept her eyes downcast.

  “No one would have stopped me,” Rowan said.

  Win cocked her head. “Then what are you saying?”