Wild Spirit: Huntress

by Victoria Wren

Evan nudged her shoulder. “I don’t think you’ve got to go far.”

  Rowan’s head snapped up, relief swelling in her body as two figures staggered out of the woods, arms linked around one another, both splattered with black soot and dirt.

  They walked out of the woods. Win’s head was numb, her hearing fuzzy. Luke was half dragging her, his arm linked tightly around her back. Her legs hurt, bones stretched and splintered. Her spine was loose and disjointed, as though she’d been stretched three inches. She nearly slipped, catching herself on some rocks. He heaved her upright.

  “Come on, nearly there,” he promised.

  Her eyes watered. That was what he’d said an hour ago, long after they’d scattered into the protection of the forest. They’d narrowly avoided the ambulance and fire truck as they pulled into a concealed road, one linked to the main Lincoln Bridge. Watching from afar, Win had clutched Luke’s arm, unable to look away as firefighters jetted the building down with a powerful hose. They were too late; much of it was charred to embers.

  “He’ll have got out, Win,” Luke tried to reassure her. He was holding her wrist tightly, knowing she was likely to bolt if she got half the chance. They had crouched in the undergrowth, weary and soot-stained, holding their breath as two firefighters appeared with a stretcher, a covered body being removed from the unstable lock up. Win made a strained cry, starting to rise up. Luke tugged her back.

  “Don’t you dare!” he hissed furiously. “We can’t be seen.”

  “I could go and look!”

  “No!” he said close to her ear. “How would it look? You can’t waltz half-dressed into a crime scene! We have to stay here.”

  “I killed him,” she wept, forcing down a deep shudder. “I never meant for this to happen.”

  He eased his grip; she slackened, slumping against his shoulder. “You didn’t kill him; he made a choice to run in there.”

  He stopped mid-sentence. They were packing up, loading the body into the back of the ambulance—only one body. Win stared at Luke’s profile.

  “It might have been her,” Luke said. “It was too small to be Grayson.”

  Win sniffed, covering her face with both hands. “What have I done?”

  “We,” he corrected her. “We did this.”

  “I made you do it,” she insisted. “Luke, we can’t ever tell anyone what we did.”

  “I know,” he agreed. “But I don’t think you’ll keep this from Rowan…or Evan. She has some kind of sixth sense.”

  Win nodded, her insides tight and raw. She could feel the last waves of her strength ebbing away. “I want to know who is in the ambulance.”

  “Later,” he promised, heaving her to her feet. “We need to get home.”

  Together, they trudged out of the woods and into a clearing, and when Win thought she couldn’t take another step, her sister’s voice boomed through the mist. Luke buoyed on after hearing Rowan, increased his grip, and continued hauling her along. Win hung like a dead weight under his arm, the muscles of his upper back stretched to breaking point.

  Rowan rushed across the clearing, embracing Win, nearly lifting her off her feet. When she tried to take her from Luke’s grasp, he clung on protectively and shook his head. Smiling thinly, she let him drag her the rest of the way.

  Win blinked as the house came into view. Evan had run ahead, running a bath, the steam escaping onto the hallway landing as they trudged up the steps.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened?” Rowan pressed as Win slipped inside the steamy room. Dry-mouthed, she perched on the edge of the tub, pain shimmering up her back as she tried to turn her head. Evan wandered into the room behind her, carrying towels.

  “Leave her, Rowan. She’s exhausted,” she ordered, and Rowan narrowed her eyes at her sister. Win choked and looked away, preferring to watch the tub fill slowly with bubbles. Reluctantly, she left the room, giving her one last long look. She opened her mouth to speak, her hand lingering on the brass doorknob.

  “I’m so sorry.” Rowan couldn’t look her in the eyes. “I know what you must have gone through.”

  You don’t know the half of what I’ve gone through, Win wanted to shout, but her voice was dry from smoke. Rowan let the door click behind her, and finally, alone, Win eased herself into the tub. Hot steam evaporated up her legs as she slowly lowered herself in, every cut on her body pulsating. She scrubbed mud out of her nails, making her tender skin crack and bleed. Gritting her teeth, she raised her arms, lathering shampoo through her matted curls. She stank. Vomit, sweat, and blood turned the bathwater a dull, dingy shade of grey.

  Every part of her hurt. She winced, trying to soap up her legs, hot water sinking into the grooves of her body. Her breath caught, ignoring how her skin was scalded, red and blistered. She wanted to burn. She turned the hot tap and ran more until she had to squeeze her eyes shut.

  Grayson had burned. She’d not seen his body brought out. Win couldn’t stand it. The thought of his skin bubbling, charring made bile rise. His hair dissolving, his skeleton buried under bricks and rubble. Only hours earlier, he’d been kissing her.

  Win cried out and leapt out of the tub, shaking and pulling the plug. She ran the overhead shower to full cold, running the soothing water over her skin. There was a knock outside her door.

  “What is it?” she sniffed.

  “It’s me,” Luke called. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she stuttered, her eyes flying wide as she hosed herself with cool water. “Yes.”

  “Well, hurry up.” He sounded weary. Win grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her middle, feeling heavy as she unlocked the bathroom door.

  Luke was sat outside, cross-legged against the wall. He was filthy, his glasses smudged and greasy. He looked up at her, dripping a trail on the floor. “You use all the hot water?” he said. “You look like a lobster.”

  Avoiding his gaze, she scurried to her room, wrapping up her hair, pulling on an oversized tee-shirt and some pajama bottoms. She slumped by the window, watching the sun come up over the trees, not bothering to wipe away the wetness gathering under her eyes. I killed him.

  Things would never be the same. He’d marked her, claimed her, and she was completely in love with him, no matter what he’d done. Before he disappeared into the building, his eyes, so soulful, so hurt, he’d begged her forgiveness. If he were alive now, she’d forgive him for anything. He was bound to her, and she loved him.

  “You need to sleep.” A voice came from behind her. Luke was dressed in his slacks and a tee-shirt, his black hair still wet from the shower. She shook her head.

  “I’m fine here,” she protested, to which he rolled his eyes skywards. He dragged her to the bed, folding her in the sheets.

  “Staring out a window isn’t going to make him appear,” he told her. “I don’t believe he’s really dead, Win. We only saw one body brought out of there.” She turned away from him, her head sagging into the pillow.

  “It’s virtually impossible,” Win mumbled, her pillow becoming damp. “No one could survive that.”

  His weight shifted the bed; he sat on the edge, picking at his nails. “I saw you survive much worse. You’re still standing. Let it all calm down. He’ll find you…when he wants to be found.”

  Win tried to smile. It was sweet of him to attempt to make her feel better, even though she knew Grayson was gone. Luke saw her shoulders trembling; he reached out a hand but withdrew it. Win twisted around in the covers to face him.

  “I’d better go,” he said, stifling a yawn. Win moved up the bed, leaving him some space.

  “Don’t go yet.” Her voice was small. “Stay until I fall asleep?”

  She looked so lost, her eyes so swollen and sorrowful, against his better judgment, he shuffled up next to her on the bed. Win snaked up under his arm, huddling into his ribs. Luke made a face, wriggling to get comfortable, fiddling with pillows behind his head, until finally, he settled.

  “You’re a
hot mess, Win Adler,” he muttered, smiling.

  Win rested her head on his chest, lulled by the soft rise and fall of his breathing, and within moments she was asleep.

  Luke toyed with her curls still drying out from the bath, twisting one around his finger. She was radiating heat, and he became sleepy. Her tears had soaked through his tee-shirt, and he tried to pretend it didn’t hurt him.

  When Rowan cracked open the door, she saw Luke watching her sister sleep next to him. He yawned and finally gave in, his head lolling to one side.

  This won’t end well, she thought to herself, closing the door. She had seen that look before.

  Ella sat numbly on the edge of the bed, watching as her friend yanked the covers up to her chin. Ella’s eyes filled up. “Oh, Win, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Luke reached out and massaged her shoulder.

  “We weren’t going to tell you but, it seemed too big not to say anything,” he said, and Ella frowned, her nose wrinkling.

  “Of course you had to tell me!” she snapped, hardly able to stand the look of exhaustion on Win’s face. Win nodded solemnly.

  “No more secrets,” she agreed. “Did you…find anything?”

  Luke had texted Ella a name and asked if she could dig anything up in the old town museum.

  Ella held up her hands in despair. “I’m so sorry, Win. I got my mom to look at the old town records. There’s lots of information on Graham Riley, the hunter. There’s information on Jennifer, and there was a birth certificate for Henry James Riley.”

  Win’s stomach knotted at hearing that name.

  “But no death certificate?” Luke prompted, and Ella shook her head.

  “Nothing and absolutely nothing on Grayson.” She bit her bottom lip as fat tears gathered on Win’s lower lashes. She reached out and squeezed her hand, which were unusually cold; it made Ella’s heart twist. “I don’t know what else to say—it's possible there could be some records in Boston.”

  “What about your Uncle Willard?” Luke suggested. He deliberately remained on the edge of the bed. Ella noticed how forlorn he looked. His skin was grey, shadows spilling out under his eyes. “He has connections in Boston?”

  Win’s face brightened. “Maybe.” Ella patted her hand.

  “I’ll see what I can find, but for now…you rest. You’ve been through hell.”

  Win nodded, unable to meet her gaze as she slunk back against the headboard. “Thank you for trying.”

  Ella stood woodenly as Win tucked under the covers. She took Luke’s hand and pulled him into the darkened hallway. He was also cool to the touch. He tried to smile down at her, but it didn’t make his eyes.

  “You have to look after her, Luke,” Ella whispered as she pulled him to the stairs. Her large brown eyes searched his, staring at him imploringly.

  “What do you mean?” he asked. She took his hand, his gaze was distant, he seemed preoccupied and hardly able to look at her.

  “She’s broken, Luke.” Ella sniffed, wiping at wetness in the corner of her eyes. “You’re her family, and you were there. Take care of her.”

  Luke stiffened as she wound into his arms for a hug. He wrapped his arms around her, even her body heat not touching the cold he felt inside. Since the blue light had caught him in its wake, he’d not been able to get warm. “I’m not exactly Mother Theresa,” he quipped. “I’m the last person she needs right now.”

  She lifted her chin, resting it on his chest as she gazed up at him. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re her family now. Please…she’s so hurt, Luke. That guy—she trusted him, and he broke her heart.”

  Luke rubbed his eyes, exhausted. He’d been trying not to think of Grayson. It had been the first time he’d ever properly laid eyes on him, Win’s mysterious love interest, the fabled woodsman. When he’d appeared, running out of the truck, Luke had done a double-take. The guy was huge, muscular, his blonde hair swept off his face. And he hadn’t expected the scaring. When he’d caught Win in his arms and kissed her, had told her he loved her, Luke’s insides had rolled. He couldn’t stop picturing them together, him holding her. It made him furious. The way she had looked at him, her eyes watery and soulful.

  “I don’t know, Ella,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll do my best.”

  Ella smiled, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him gently. He tried to push the thoughts out of his head, but he couldn’t forget finding his friend’s remains in the woods and how when she had died, she’d been totally alone.

  Thirty One

  “THAT’S EVERYTHING,” WIN concluded. The house was quiet. Ben and Rowan sat on the end of the bed, both still and locked in their own thoughts. Evan sat numbly on her window seat, her hands folded in her lap. As usual, her expression was neutral and always veered on the side of polite and kind. Her eyes shone warmly.

  “You did the right thing,” Evan said when neither Rowan nor Ben spoke. Ben’s face was grave, pale, and unnerved. Rowan folded her arms.

  “Are you sure no one spotted you?” Rowen asked, and Win nodded solemnly.

  When Win finally woke, it was nearing lunchtime, having slept away most of the morning. Luke and Ella had vanished, and his car wasn’t in the drive. She had fought down a wave of bitterness, wishing he’d hung around.

  “We should keep a low profile.” Ben raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll keep watching the news.”

  “Jennifer Riley was found dead at the scene. No one has mentioned anything about Grayson,” Evan offered. Win recalled the way the building crumbled and shook her head grimly.

  “He can’t have survived,” Win mumbled.

  Rowan looked away out of the window. “Maybe it’s for the best,” she said.

  Win recoiled inwardly, not expecting coolness from her. She didn’t react, no more arguments. Instead, she stared miserably down at her hands. Ben reached out and touched her arm.

  “You look different,” he admired her. “I think you grew three inches.”

  “She is different,” Rowan threw back at him. “Her human body is gone now, and she’s completely Therian. You’ll have to get used to the new Win.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.” Win settled back against the pillow. “Seeing what was left of me in a pile…was…unreal. I’ll never forget. I don’t think Luke will either. He had to bury it.”

  If Rowan noticed her tone, she said nothing, preferring to stare out of the window.

  “Speaking of Luke,” Evan spoke from the window. “You said the souls passed straight through him? Like he couldn’t move?”

  “Two did,” Win confirmed. “Like when the stone caught me in its light, he couldn’t move. They plowed right into him and out the back. The last one got us both.”

  Evan made a noise like she was thinking; she stared out the window distantly. “He managed to survive.”

  “I don’t understand. Should we be worried about him?” Ben asked. “I don’t know if I can take any more changes in this house.”

  Rowan stood stiffly. “We’ll keep an eye on him, huh? Make sure he doesn’t start acting weird. Weirder than usual.”

  Evan laughed, slipping off the seat. “I think we should let Win get some rest.”

  Rowan lingered at the foot of the bed, long after the others left. Evan shot Win a kind smile before closing the door.

  Rowan was fiddling with a folded blanket at the end of the bed, her fingers picking at the seams. “I guess I should apologize,” she muttered. “We both said some terrible things.”

  Win nodded solemnly. “I don’t want to fight anymore.” She pulled up her knees, linking her fingers around them.

  Rowan sat. “Grandpa wouldn’t want us fighting,” she agreed. “But I’m going to say one thing, and it’s buried forever. I know you think you loved him. And I know what you did—don’t look at me like that…I know you slept with him. I’m not stupid. I can hear your heart, remember? I can see it written all over your face. He’s all over you; no hot bat
h is going to fix it. I should have been there for you, and I wasn’t. If we hadn’t argued…you wouldn’t have gone. But you did such a brave thing. You faced it all by yourself…I’m so proud of you!”

  Rowan reached for her hands, but they were oddly cold. Win couldn’t guess where this was heading. “No more reckless behavior, okay?”

  Win was stung, though she lifted her chin and pretended it didn’t hurt. She knew she wouldn’t ever regret what she’d done with Grayson. If she never saw him again, he was part of her now.

  “Okay…now my turn.” Win gave her a withered smile, and Rowan grinned. “You might not like it, but I’m going to say it anyway. You’re right, I know. I was wrong about Grayson; I was headstrong and stupid. I loved him.”

  Rowan flinched, rolling her eyes away. “Come on, Win—”

  “Don’t, please!” Win rose her voice, trying to keep her temper low. “I did, and you can’t tell me otherwise. What I’m really getting to is—I’m sorry about Evan, I’m sorry I was so rude. I see she is good for you, and I think she really does care about you.”

  Rowan laughed shortly. “She does.”

  Win’s eyes darkened. “I’m prepared to push it aside, but I still don’t trust her. No matter what you say. Maybe I’m wrong. I hope so. But she says she was called here for me, but she’s hidden things—the stone for one. And when I needed her, she was nowhere in sight!”

  Rowan shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “Look, you’re not wrong. But it’s not what you think. She thinks you’re here for a higher purpose. You are the last Hickory.”

  “What does she think it means?”

  “I don’t know,” Rowan shrugged. “You’re here for a reason.”

  Break the curse…

  Uncle Willard’s voice echoed in her memory. She closed her lips around the words, content to keep it to herself for now. Rowan walked her hand across the bed and clasped her hand around her wrist; her eyes were shiny and wet.

  “Let’s not fight anymore,” she begged. “It’s us now…and Dad! I can’t do this by myself.”