by Bree Moore
Quinn wondered if he’d made a horrible mistake. He could have told them no, could have avoided bringing Becca into this mess if he hadn’t been so bent on finding out what happened to his parents. He contemplated, for a brief, insane moment, jumping out of the airlock with Becca, but he wasn’t confident he could fly with her long enough to get them safely to anywhere civilized. And how would they avoid getting caught then, if they survived?
He would appeal to the chief. As a child of one of the village members, former or otherwise, surely the chief would listen to him. Maybe Quinn could convince them to preserve Becca’s life.
The plane dipped, starting its descent. Quinn stood and carried Becca to an empty seat away from everyone else, holding the blanket to keep it wrapped around her body, and buckled her in. Her head lolled, but she seemed otherwise secure. Quinn retrieved her jeans and sat across from her. No one said a word.
The plane bumped and alarming grating sounds filled the air. Quinn caught sight of a parachute opening from the back, dragging them to a halt. Avaan rushed by Quinn, darting glances at Becca with wide eyes. At least the stranger couldn’t report them or call the Supernatural Task Force from the middle of true Alaskan wilderness. If he had a phone, it wouldn’t get a signal out here. That thought made Quinn’s mouth quirk up in the slightest smile, but it straightened out when it occurred to him that the Stiffs weren’t needed out there, not with the justice system Tarkik implied.
Silla and Tarkik cast their shadows across Quinn and Becca, gazing at them with drawn expressions.
“Dress her and meet us outside,” Silla finally said.
They turned together and exited the plane.
A few minutes later, Quinn stepped off the ramp carrying Becca in his arms. Silla came forward with rope to bind her wrists and a piece of cloth to blindfold her. Quinn fought every instinct to run as he watched them truss Becca. A sick weight settled in the bottom of his stomach, banishing the edge of hunger in his stomach.
“It’s cold. She needs a coat,” Quinn said as Silla walked away. The man didn’t respond, and Quinn regretted leaving the blanket on the plane.
Avaan stood a ways off, hesitating for some reason. Quinn couldn’t be certain the man had heard the conversation, but Avaan walked forward, shrugging off his coat and putting it over Becca. The two men exchanged looks, not friendly, but Quinn was grateful for the gesture for Becca’s sake. As Avaan turned away, Tarkik held up a dart, examining it in the harsh daylight.
Quinn’s breathing hitched.
“You are on our land, now.” Tarkik twirled his dart. “A man with a camera is considered a pest in these parts. A pest that must be eradicated, lest it unbalance our ecosystem. I’m sure you understand.”
Avaan smiled hesitantly, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll snap a few panoramic shots and be out of your hair in a few days. What else do you expect me to do?”
Tarkik grinned darkly and tucked the dart away, then stepped forward. Silla barked an order and thrust his hand into Tarkik’s chest. Tarkik glowered.
“Bring him too,” Silla said. “His word may turn the chief’s mind in our favor. Then you may carry out the consequence for trespassing on our sacred land.”
“Trespassing?” Avaan sputtered. “This is free land, public land! You can’t do anything to me.”
Silla leaned in. “Oh, believe me, we can do much. And no one will think twice about what happened to you when we tell the press that we found the unfortunate traveler at the bottom of the mountain. He must have slipped.” Silla pressed Avaan’s chest and the man stumbled back a few steps, sending a rock tumbling over the side of the mountaintop. It would be a long fall. Quinn considered whether he should get involved. Could he set Becca down and catch the man before he fell to his death? Or should he respect the right of these men to defend their village? He adjusted his grip, muscles tensing.
Avaan swallowed. “Will you kill us?” He nodded his head toward Becca. “The snake woman and me?”
“We will protect our people at all costs. Fortunately for you, our chief will make the ultimate decision.” Tarkik jerked at the straps on a pack he seemed to have conjured from nowhere. Had it been on the plane? Quinn couldn’t remember. He knelt on the ground and struggled with Becca’s limp limbs to get the coat properly in place. Avaan watched, but did not offer to help this time. When he’d finished zipping Becca into the coat, Quinn hoisted her into his arms. The tension in the air had dissipated for now, but if Avaan did anything unpredictable, Quinn could see that changing.
“Where are we headed?”
Silla pointed. Quinn peered over the edge. He couldn’t hike the entire way with Becca clutched in his arms. He’d fall, and most likely hurt her.
Silla and Tarkik released their wings in sync.
Avaan seemed amazed. He grinned at Quinn. “You can do the same, eh? I thought you and the other man had found another room to speak in privately, but I suppose the sky is your room when you can fly!” He laughed.
Quinn rolled his eyes. He’d left his shirt back on the plane, a fact he noted with some discomfort. He could retrieve it now, except the airplane’s engine rumbled to life, and it rolled off the mountaintop, launching into the air. The pilot waved through the window of the cockpit as he circled the five individuals on the mountain, then flew off into the deep blue sky.
“We will coast down the mountainside, land, and hike to the village,” Silla explained.
Quinn let his wings slowly unfurl from his back, practicing the control he’d learned from watching Tarkik fall from the plane.
Avaan chuckled nervously. “For those of us who don’t have wings, what is the plan exactly?”
“I will carry you,” Silla said.
Avaan looked to Tarkik, who shrugged. “You can trust he won’t drop you, the honorable bastard.”
Quinn held back from laughing at the expression on Avaan’s face. He walked to the edge of the mountain, looked into the expansive valley, and took a deep, shuddering breath. From this height he felt as if he could draw a deeper breath than before, like his lungs were uninhibited. Harper would have loved this.
Quinn pushed away the thought of his sister, who he had left behind in the turmoil at Camp Silver Lake. After settling this matter, he and Becca could return together and find Harper and Tyson.
He squared his shoulders, backed up carefully on the uneven ground, then took a running start, flapping his wings and leaping into the air. His wings caught the updraft and he glided, flapping every so often to keep himself aloft. Tarkik took off, shadowing behind Quinn, and Silla followed, his takeoff marked by a frightened yelp from Avaan.
Cold air rushed past Quinn’s face, making his eyes water. Rock and grass and a river passed below, his shadow marking the landscape. Despite what loomed in front of him, Quinn couldn’t contain the pure joy he felt at flight, and a smile spread across his face. He belonged here, unhindered by law or fear.
The ground arrived faster than he expected, with the extra weight from Becca in his arms. He coasted farther than he usually would, trying to slow himself down before he broke his legs on the ground below. Flapping, he dropped the remaining distance to the ground, jarring his bones but otherwise safe. Becca flopped against him, still unconscious. Quinn’s muscles burned from carrying her. He adjusted his grip and kept his wings out, using them as balances to counteract the additional weight Becca put at his front. He couldn’t ask Silla or Tarkik to carry her and Avaan’s hands were tied.
Not that Quinn would trust that man with Becca’s life; not in a million years. Avaan had landed with Silla some distance behind and kept glancing at Quinn and Becca, as if trying to get a better look at her. Quinn tightened his hands, pulling Becca into him and marching determinedly forward.
“How far to the village?” he asked as Silla walked up.
“We will rest on the other side of the second river.” Silla pointed to a gleaming ribbon in the distance. “We will reach Hrafnar
before the sun reaches its peak.”
Quinn wondered if they should have kept flying. If Harper had been here instead of Becca, they would have. But the two human additions to their party made flight a much less desirable travel option.
“Have you contacted the bear tribe?” Silla asked Tarkik.
Tarkik grunted in response.
“Wait, bear tribe? How many species live here?”
Silla blinked. “Bears, wolves, cougars, foxes; other avian types, such as eagles and hawks. The predators of this land all have a human-shifter counterpart, although many are dwindling in number.”
“How is this possible?” Avaan asked. Quinn glanced at him. Did the man live under a rock? Most, if not all, people knew about the existence of paranormals. Avaan caught his look. “That the land is untouched by your government, I mean.”
“We have an agreement with the government. It is fragmenting, and no longer honored as it should be. This land was meant as a refuge for those willing to agree to avoid human contact at all costs, to remain in the purest parts of the wild. In recent years we’ve had poachers visit these lands. We treat them as the trespassers they are, though we have discovered some were sent by the government. They are not satisfied with the land they have and they want to steal ours. It’s the same story, retold with new peoples.”
“Will you leave, then?”
“No.” Silla barked the word. “We will fight. We will grow our numbers. We will protect our lands.”
Tarkik hiked ahead of them and Silla kept pace with Quinn. It was hard to tell whether Silla worried Quinn would run, wanted to protect him from Becca if she woke up, or offered companionship.
“That’s why you want us. My sister and I,” Quinn said. He looked sideways at Silla. “Do any others know about this refuge?”
“Some do. The ones that remember do.”
Quinn shifted Becca’s weight. He contemplated throwing her over his shoulder, then decided that would be undignified. “The ones that remember what?”
“That the tales are not just stories to be told in an igloo during a snowstorm, but many contain the truth of Raven and the creation of the world.”
All Quinn could see besides an empty, grassy valley were the mountains rising on either side. Quinn stumbled on thick tufts of grass growing sporadically from the ground, and since he couldn’t see his feet, he was grateful more than once that his wings helped him balance. His boots sank into the marshy surface. At least they were more practical than tennis shoes would have been. Quinn was suddenly glad for Becca’s unconsciousness. Her lightweight running shoes wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes walking through the patches of bog he kept running into.
The rain began two hours into the hike. Tarkik and Silla didn’t seem to mind, but Quinn hated being damp and worst of all, he had to draw in his feathers, which left him more prone to tripping. Becca’s deadweight wore on his arms, shoulders, and back. Just because he could carry her didn’t mean he found it easy.
“How long until this dart stuff wears off?” Quinn asked Silla.
Tarkik let out a harsh laugh from ahead. “You are wishing you let us kill her in the first place.”
Quinn was too tired to rise to the jab and defend Becca. Having her safe in his arms gave him enough assurance for now. Quinn focused on Silla, who studied Becca’s face.
“It will be soon.”
Silence filled the empty space in the valley. The chill of the air crept into Quinn’s bones and his arms trembled. Ahead, Tarkik paused and rummaged through his pack, then pulled out a folded skin of some kind, approaching Quinn with it.
“Put her down,” he said.
Quinn eyed the ground, then found a suitable patch of grass and carefully laid Becca on it. She stirred, mumbling, then settled back into unconsciousness.
Tarkik thrust the skin at Quinn, who took it and unwrapped a vest like Tarkik and Silla wore. Reinforced slits opened the back where his wings would come out. He unfastened the bone toggles on the front, fingers brushing the unfamiliar velvety material.
Quinn pushed his arms through the vest and refastened the front. Instantly, his chest warmed. His arms didn’t mind the cold as much with his torso covered.
Silla pulled some packages from his pack. “We typically hunt fresh food while at home, but tonight this will suffice,” he explained, peeling back a thin layer of plastic film from the paper bowl and handing it to Quinn. Some sort of dehydrated chicken with rice. Tarkik had started a fire inside a ring of rocks, rain sizzling as it struck the flames. A small pot rested on some rocks in the fire, filled with melting snow. Summer in the Alaskan mountains was colder than Quinn expected it to be, and seeing snow still surprised him, not to mention evening had passed and the sun hadn’t fallen completely. The brightness unsettled him.
The water boiled. Quinn took his turn pouring some over the food. He dug in with a set of bone cutlery provided from the packs. Becca moaned again, tossing her head, and Quinn crossed the rocks to sit next to her, blowing on a bite of the food so it didn’t burn his tongue. On a whim, he reached across Becca’s face and moved a bit of hair behind her ears. Her face was cool to his touch. His fingers lingered, letting the small spot on her cheek steal his warmth. She felt colder than he’d like. He set his food down and maneuvered himself behind her, bringing her against his chest, then resumed eating.
Silla passed the fire, holding another steaming bowl.
“Now we’re feeding it?” Tarkik snarled, tossing his empty food package into the fire. The thick paper bowl caught fire readily, turning black and collapsing in on itself.
Quinn gestured to Avaan. “Did he get any?”
Silla looked at the bearded man, fire gleaming off his face as he sat stiff and upright, bound hands in his lap. “He refused it when I offered. He said he is fasting for deliverance from captivity.”
Strange. Quinn took the second bowl from Silla. “Thank you.”
Silla’s dark eyes gleamed. “We will keep her alive, but only until her fate is decided.”
Tarkik stomped off, headed for a line of trees in the near distance. Quinn watched him sit on a rock at the edge of the wooded area.
Silla sat closer to the fire, but angled toward Quinn. Quinn took it as an open invitation to speak.
“Have you seen her kind before?”
Avaan seemed to perk up, but he didn’t move.
“Once,” Silla replied. His hands rested on his knees. “They are rare here. It is difficult for a serpent to survive in such harsh conditions, and so we are protected. The were-serpent I encountered in my youth found the village, and the terror and death it caused among our people was devastating. Six young were killed, two elders wounded. We do not reproduce easily and this loss nearly ruined us.”
All three men looked to Becca, who stirred again. Quinn’s eyes landed on her arm, obscured by the sleeves of her coat. How far had the scales spread after her last transformation? And how long until they covered her completely? Would he lose her for good then?
Quinn scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her.
Becca blinked, stirring.
“It’s freezing.” She murmured, snuggling in closer to Quinn. The other two men looked away. What did Silla think of their closeness? Tarkik no doubt thought it an abomination.
“I’m glad you’re awake,” Quinn said. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded, teeth chattering. “I transformed again, didn’t I?”
“You don’t remember?”
She shook her head. “I remember some of it. It’s like my memory glitches when I try to think about it. Is everyone all right?” The last part came out in a hush.
“A few bumps.” Quinn avoided looking at his forearm, where the angry red streaks from her nails marked his skin. He shifted his arm out of sight. “Nothing to be concerned with.”
Her face froze frighteningly still. She swallowed and glanced down. “I’m a monster, aren’t I?”
Quinn pushed pa
st the memory of the thrashing tail, the yellow serpent gaze, the fangs. “It’s not Frankenstein bad.” He hoped she would smile.
“Frankenstein was the doctor, you know.” She choked on the words, and Quinn pulled her closer, drawing in a long breath with his nose against her hair, relishing the fact that she still smelled like Becca.
Quinn held out the bowl of food, which had cooled to lukewarm. Becca took it, spooning food into her mouth silently for a time.
“Were you scared the first time you…” She trailed off. “You had your parents then, to explain things to you.”
Quinn crossed and uncrossed his arms. “Yeah, for a bit.”
“Give me some time. I’m sure I can figure it out.”
What if she didn’t have time? Quinn stayed silent. He looked to Silla, who sat staring into the fire, and Avaan, who looked to be meditating with his eyes closed.
“I like the getup.” Becca tugged on the edge of his vest, a smile playing at the edge of her lips. “You’ve gone native, as they say.”
Quinn gave a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I have. It’s warm. It has a place for my wings, look.” He took his arm off her shoulder and leaned forward so she could see for herself. Her fingers traced the slits and he shivered at her touch.
“Nifty. You’re not cold?”
“It’s summer here.”
Becca went silent, finishing her food. Quinn took her empty bowl and put it in the fire. He handed the utensil to Silla.
“Thank you.”
Silla blinked, then nodded. When Quinn turned around, Becca had the sleeve of the coat pulled up, and she gazed at the place where her wound had been before. Emerald scales glittered to her elbow. When she noticed Quinn’s stare, she tugged the coat down and clasped her hands. Her smile said nothing was wrong, but her eyes said more.
Quinn sat beside her and drew her close. With that scaled arm hidden, he could pretend nothing had changed. He leaned his head on hers.
“I thought you might hate me,” Becca said quietly.