"Whose room was that?" Stacey asked, intent on making small talk to distract them from questioning her.
Kemp ignored her, his eyes lingering on staff passing through the lobby. They scurried past as if afraid that if they didn't move fast enough, he would pounce.
"Just making conversation," she muttered.
Once Jez joined them, they proceeded to the parking lot at the front. It was half-full of crappy vehicles, with the occasional mid-range car or truck. Stacey wasn't interested in who was there, but it was good practice to maintain awareness of her surroundings. That was why she scanned the parking lot. There was nothing out of place, so why did she feel as if someone were watching her?
Chapter Seven
Jason threw the pen across the room, dissatisfied when it bounced off the wall without smashing into pieces. Placing both elbows on the desk, he rested his head in his hands.
What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn't concentrate, and he needed to. Every day that went by without a solution risked the health and wellbeing of the children and young people in the Pack. It should be a simple matter to get what they needed, but nobody had been able to help. And where the hell was Tyler?
After what had happened earlier with the humans... Jason pulled away from thinking about her, forcing his mind back to the matter at hand. He did not want to go to the Dark Elves. The last thing the Pack needed was to owe them anything. Who could trust that they would even deliver?
Tyler had been waiting at the rear entrance of the hotel when Jason made it out. Once Tyler had picked himself off the floor from laughing at the clothes Jason wore, he agreed to follow Kemp's car.
Jason told himself he would have gone back in for Stacey. Only because he owed her, not for any other reason. But then, they'd seen her come out with Kemp and Jez. Jason had wanted to be the one to follow them, but Tyler had insisted on going. It was unfortunate, but Jason had a reputation to repair.
He rubbed his chest. The decision to return without making sure she was safe had resulted in something akin to heartburn. Nevertheless, he was not going to think about her. Even her name conjured inappropriate images. There was too much to do and think about without getting mixed up with a human.
Tyler walked in without knocking, as usual, stopping to pick up the pen, iPhone with a broken screen, and journal cover. The rest of the book was under the chair.
Jason stood. "Where is she?"
"Outside a restaurant with the two she left with and a man who can only be her brother."
"She's okay, then? How did you know it was her brother?" It bothered Jason that the statement didn't make sense. Her brother was missing. It seemed unlikely those two would just take her there unless there was something in it for them.
"I never said she was okay, and the guy looked like her." Tyler leaned against the doorframe. "Are you interested in her?"
"Don't be an idiot." Jason pulled open a drawer and began rummaging, not sure what he was looking for. "She's human."
"So?"
"You know how I feel about humans—"
"Yeah, yeah, they're all weak and self-centered and the planet would be better off without them." Tyler came into the room and flopped into the chair opposite Jason. "Just admit you like her and give her a call. It isn't that hard."
Jason snapped, "She isn't interested, and I have no way of contacting her."
It would be a good idea to change that chair for something modern and uncomfortable. Wasn’t that what they did in fast food places to get a quick turnover? People might leave him alone then.
Tyler threw back his head and laughed. "Believe me, she's interested. Who wouldn’t be? Besides, I can't put up with you brooding like this. You're no good to anybody. Do you want me to tell you where she is?"
"No, I want you to do your bloody job."
Still chucking, Tyler placed both hands on the desk to push up and meandered out of the office, singing, "This thing called love, I just can't handle it. This thing called love, I must get ‘round to it. I ain't ready. Crazy little thing called love."
Jason shook his head, scowling. There was nothing to be happy about. But perhaps he should just check that she was okay. Bloody hell, this was getting him nowhere.
"Tyler!" he bellowed. "Get your ass back in here."
Chapter Eight
Stacey sat in the shade of the wall, doing her best to stay out of the searing sun. Kemp and Jez had left when she'd refused to believe Aaron wasn't being coerced. She still wasn't convinced that they didn't have a sniper at his back or something. That was the only thing that would make sense, because the brother she'd been thinking of for the past two months wasn't the person who sat in front of her now.
Aaron was saying, "Everyone in the family has to face a test. This was uniquely yours. You needed to be motivated, Stacey. Motivated into carrying on family tradition rather than going to college to do social studies or whatever."
"Criminology, moron."
He laughed as if she hadn't just insulted him. "That's rich. Our little thief learning about crime." He shook his head. "The point is, your job is to contribute to this family. We take care of each other, and with me leading the way, we're going to be great." Removing the linen napkin from his knee, he smiled. "Do you have something for me?"
Perhaps he'd stopped his recitation because he sensed that she was close to smashing the plate of pasta in his face. Come to think of it, he'd always been single-minded and when he got an idea in his head; there was no reasoning with him. Did he know how annoying that could be? Then it dawned on her that he was asking about the ring he'd arranged for her to steal.
"I almost got caught stealing that damned thing. What do you want it for, anyway?"
"It's powerful. I need it."
Yesterday she would have scoffed at the idea that an object had power, but after meeting a wolfman, anything was possible.
He looked like a petulant child when she didn't immediately answer, but she wasn't sorry for him, not this time. "What about the wolf?"
Aaron pushed away his plate. "Did those idiots finish the job?"
Her eyes widened. "You meant to kill him?" Now that she thought about his condition when she'd been thrown into that room, they'd come close. "They almost did."
"Stacey, it isn't really a wolf —"
"No, he is a man." She pushed her chair back, making it vibrate on the concrete. "Why would you do that?"
"Lower your voice. People are looking." He glanced at the nearby tables. "We were contracted to take him out by some powerful...creatures. Apparently he causes a lot of trouble in the local area."
"So, you're a murderer now?"
He grimaced. "Werewolves aren't human, so they don't count. They are not natural."
"Shifters," she mumbled.
This wasn't getting them anywhere. It was like she didn't know the man sitting opposite. He had changed a lot in a short space of time, and she wondered how. What had happened to the boy who’d swum out to rescue a cat clinging to a branch? The kid who’d mowed the lawn for their neighbor when her arthritis got too bad?
"Who are you working for, Aaron?"
"Nobody. It was just a job. Once the wolf is dead, that's the end of it."
Stacey saw the motorbike pull up illegally at the edge of the main road. There was plenty of room for the traffic to flow around it, but it was a weird place to stop.
At first, she didn't pay too much attention. She had other things on her mind, not least making sense of this pile of shit. Then the biker revved the engine. She couldn't see his eyes, just a black helmet and yet she knew he was staring at her.
No, it couldn't be. Had he come to make sure she didn't tell anyone about him? She wouldn’t, since she had no intention of being branded a nut job.
A quick look confirmed that Aaron hadn't noticed. Not wanting him to see—because it had to be Jason—she kept the bike in her peripheral vision. She didn't like how Jason made her feel. It was as if she needed something from him, but that girly shit wa
s something to examine later when her entire future didn't hang in the balance.
She scowled. "I thought you were hurt or dead or a prisoner." The anger that had been simmering was now growing. It felt like a physical entity trying to get out. "How could you do that to me?"
Aaron's face hardened. "As the only girl, you've been spoiled for far too long. Not just by mom and dad, but by everyone. It's time you faced up to your responsibilities."
That was it. Aaron had always behaved like he was Mr. Special. For some reason, he thought being the eldest made him better.
She narrowed her eyes. "Let me get this straight: you want me to hand over the same ring you tricked me into stealing?" He opened his mouth to respond, but she continued, "Not that you risked yourself for, but used your little sister to get. Really?" She was laying it on thick, but the more she thought about it, the angrier she became. "You might be the eldest, but you are hardly qualified to take charge!"
When he opened his mouth to answer, she said, "Be very careful."
"Stacey, you have to see reason."
She stood, having known for a few minutes what she was going to do. Somehow Jason's presence made everything clear. There was no point trying to convince Aaron of anything. He was too far gone.
"Stacey, if you walk away, that's it. You will no longer be a part of this family."
She couldn't help glancing at the motorbike, needing to check that it was still there. The small plume of steam coming from the exhaust told her he was ready. If she concentrated, she could almost feel the engine throbbing in the center of her chest.
Turning her attention back to Aaron, she said, "But staying means living by your rules. Mom and dad would never have stopped me from going to college or having a life."
"Our parents were too soft on you. They allowed you to have ideas that should have been squashed as soon as they started."
Stacey had no doubt that Aaron was serious. He was the most stubborn person she'd ever met and if she walked away from him today, she would be leaving anyone who took his side. That meant it was likely she would never see her nieces and nephews again. While it hurt, she could end up a victim for the rest of her life if she stayed. He would destroy everything that made her who she was until she obeyed him without question.
Aaron was her brother; she didn't think he was evil, just misguided. But that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. No, it was best not to start down that path. Aaron had tried to murder someone for gain, and she couldn’t live with that.
As if he were able to read her thoughts, the biker's helmet turned in her direction. Despite the distance, she felt the unspoken question.
Jason belonged to a world into which she'd dipped a toe. He was unpredictable and dangerous, but also mysterious and exciting. She wanted more.
Stacey stepped back, her body already reaching out to the leather-clad shifter. "Let me ask you something: if you had to choose between the ring and me, which would it be?"
"I don't have to choose." He didn't understand that with those words, he'd given her his answer.
"Here." She unhooked the backpack containing her clothes and books from the chair and threw it at him.
She started towards the bike as the engine revved, louder than it should have been able to. When she swung towards it, she saw that it had left the road and was on the verge, heading her way. The back wheel spun on the soft grass, churning up mud and spraying clods of earth against a billboard. What was he doing?
Then she saw a black Jeep tearing across the parking lot to mount the curb. It was coming for her, and Kemp was behind the wheel. Jez was in the passenger seat with both hands braced on the dashboard. For a moment she struggled to take in the danger. Aaron wouldn’t hurt her, would he?
Stacey ran, the thought of getting to the bike driving her. Part of her was tempted to stop and prove that her brother wouldn't kill or injure her, but when she threw a glance in Aaron's direction, he was busy digging through the backpack. He wasn't even interested in the outcome of the assault he must have initiated.
She almost returned to hit him over the head when she saw her well-worn Kurtherian Gambit novel fall to the floor. The bastard! There was no way he was getting that ring now.
Stacey stumbled on the uneven sidewalk but managed to right herself. The car was gaining speed. There was no way it would be able to stop in time, even if Kemp stamped on the brakes.
Both arms pumping, she sailed over a trash bag and ran like she'd never run before. The bike slowed, turning in front of her. The roar of the Jeep’s engine was growing louder. She didn't need to check to know it was too close.
With one hand on the biker's arm, she swung up behind him and hung on for dear life. They bounced onto the road, where he let out the throttle.
A pulse of familiar energy went through her, and she hugged Jason tight. The wind whipped at her hair. It was too noisy to speak, which was a shame because she had loads of questions.
Stacey couldn't resist swiveling to see what was happening behind them. The Jeep had stopped next to Aaron, who stood at the curb with her empty backpack dangling from one hand. She vowed that Aaron Bailey would never get the artifact.
Stacey had risked her life on a futile mission to save her brother and discovered the world was bigger than she thought. Now the future was wide open, and she had never been so scared in all her life—yet she had never felt so free.
Author Notes
Thank you for reading Trapped. It is scary to put a piece of myself out there and then invite judgment, but it feels like a good way to grow my writing skills. If you’d like to read more, visit lucindapebre.com.
I don't know why some stories come out more easily than others, but this one was just waiting to be written. Not only that, nothing much changed during my editing process, which is rare for me. I usually find that I have to work hard on a story’s structure once I have a first draft.
You can probably tell that Trapped is part of a larger story. Unfortunately, I don't know what will happen next; I never do until I write. The story goes where it wants, regardless of whether I have planned and plotted. If I try to force it, I end up staring at a blank page. That means unless I continue to write and expand this into a novella or novel, I won't know what happens to Stacey or Jason. Both characters now belong to the Oriceran world, and I cannot adequately express how wonderful it has been to be allowed to contribute to that ever-expanding universe, regardless of whether this story is published.
If anyone is thinking about having a go at writing a story, just do it. You won't regret accepting the awesome opportunity. It's been great fun, and everyone has been genuinely helpful and supportive. This is my second short story for LMBPN, and hopefully not my last.
Thank you, Martha Carr and Michael Anderle for creating such a special, safe place for readers and authors
Lucinda Pebre
White Mountains Manifestation
By Tracey Byrnes
Three teenagers. A hike in the White Mountains. And a moose…
What could possibly go wrong?
A lot…especially when ancient magic enters the mix.
Dedication
For everyone who’s encouraged me to set the magic free, then keep following wherever it leads. You rock.
Chapter One
What do you do when, sixteen years after you were born to human parents who’ve never shown an ounce of magical talent, you suddenly manifest the ability to create and manipulate ice?
In my case, the answer was, “Freak the hell out.” As in, I damn near froze myself to death on a hot and humid-as-hell ninety-degree day because the more I lost my shit, the more dramatic and far-reaching the ice became. Good thing we were in an isolated meadow deep in the White Mountains National Forest when it happened, because it resulted in a fairly large meltdown.
I mean all the ice I created, of course. Although if I’m honest, I’m referring to my meltdown too. Don’t judge.
Oh, wait. I should probably introduce myself before spillin
g the whole tale. My name is Sin. Or rather, that’s my nickname—short for Sindratha—and the only name I’ll answer to.
Contrary to what some people in town think, I don’t live up—or is it down?—to my nickname. I’m generally very well behaved, even for a teenager. No drinking, no drugs, no wild parties, no cow-tipping or vandalizing property because I’m bored or think it’s fun. I just don’t like how pretentious my full name sounds, so I shortened it and refused to answer to anything but “Sin” until it became second nature for everyone.
Okay. Back to the story.
My family and I live in the White Mountains region of New Hampshire. Think the Presidential Range—lots of national forests and state parks, Mount Washington, the Cog Railway, Story Land, and several well-known ski areas that also have summer-side activities like ziplining and canopy tours. The Conway Scenic Railroad also runs through here for part of its route.
There are tons of places to hike and stay in the area, everything from bare-bones “roll up in a tarp in the woods” to posh resorts where you can immerse yourself in luxury after a day spent hiking through God’s country—or cruising around in your vehicle checking out the local artisans and attractions if you’re not the outdoors type.
My friends Becks, who’s my age, and Sam, who’s a year older, were with me on a day-long hiking trip. We’d chosen one of the trails that started on the Saco River a couple miles from Willey House. Yeah, that’s a historic landmark. Google it if you want to know more.
We’d parked Sam’s old Toyota Corolla at the trailhead, grabbed our backpacks, and headed out in the dewy coolness of a mid-July early morning. We planned to hike to a meadow that was far enough off the trail that most tourists didn’t realize it existed, although it was well-known to the locals and U.S. Forest Rangers. We wanted to relax and recharge while surrounded by the beauty of nature. Becks, a gifted amateur photographer, brought her Nikon DSLR camera along.
Tales from the Oriceran Universe: Fans Write For The Fans: Volume 1 (Oriceran Fans Write For the Fans) Page 3