by Jade Alters
How had my father found these creatures? His journal doesn’t once say anything about how any of this had happened. It’s just lists of the general care for each animal and, as grateful as I am for the advice, especially since I’ve never cared for an animal before, it doesn’t help the curiosity that has begun to burn within me.
But, unless the journal can give me the answers, I’m probably never going to find out. My father is gone, and I never knew him. It feels a little awkward to think of that so coldly, but I don’t have that many memories of him. Most of my life was spent in Brazil, and my mother never liked to speak of him before her death. After I’d grown up, we had started to connect again, but it wasn’t a very personal relationship. I feel the heavy sense of loss for someone who brought me into the world but, otherwise, I didn’t know him.
Being here, on this farm, and reading his meticulous notes told me that more than ever. He’s led an entire life where he found and protected creatures that the rest of the world didn’t even know about. Is this why he hid himself away? He chose these creatures over me and my mom?
I look down at the journal. The other strange thing about my father is the very existence of this journal. He had written this to me. The details are clear and concise, and it’s easy to understand and follow his directions. But I have never been here. I knew nothing of his animals. So why did he write down the instructions, almost as though he knew I would be coming here upon his death?
I shake that thought out of my mind. I’m just being stupid, now. My father is gone and now I have his farm, there’s nothing else to it.
I stand and make my way to the window. Shadows are cast across the fields as the sun begins to go down. I don’t want to admit it, but, in the last few days, I’ve discovered that I actually like it here in Mundaring. I had honestly thought I’d miss the action working at Doctors Without Borders, that I would go stir crazy on this massive property by myself, left alone to deal with all my thoughts on David… but I haven’t.
I’ve been too busy to brood about any of it. I get up early in the morning and spend my days fumbling around the farm, hoping that I’m not messing anything up. The animals know nothing of my struggles, but they’re all calm and gentle and friendly. Talking to them is almost like going to therapy; they simply listen without judgement.
My mind, for the first time in months, is actually calm. And it is with that calm that a few realisations have finally stolen over me. David is never going to be found, at least not alive. He’s been gone for far too long. My father is gone, too, and a tiny part of me regrets that I didn’t try harder to reconnect with him. This property and everything on it is now mine to protect.
A wave of tiredness sweeps over me. Between the early hour and all the emotional revelations of the last few days, I’m more than ready just to sleep for a week.
I glance at the time. I need to go and feed the animals and help them settle down for the night. A small smile crosses my face. It feels nice to be needed for once.
As I leave the front door, I can see lights on across the road. I roll my eyes. I haven’t seen Warwick since he tried to help me milk a cow the other day. I’m a little miffed about it; if he hadn’t known how to, he should have just damn well told me instead of pretending to know more than he actually did.
But perhaps that was my fault. After all, it had taken a moment for my thoughts to catch up when I opened the door, stunned at the sudden sight of a tall, broad shouldered man standing on the other side, his auburn hair shining in the light and his pale blue eyes so unusual that I couldn’t help but stare. With his sleeves rolled to his elbow and a welcoming smile on his face, he was incredibly attractive.
Too bad he was also a fool, I think with a snort, heading around the back.
A lot of the animals have made their own way inside. I hustle a few of the sheep into moving quicker and turn the back light on.
A shadow catches the corner of my eye.
I turn sharply. Was that one of the animals? I hadn’t gotten a good look at the shape, unfortunately. Frowning slightly, I make my way toward the side of the house. The figure had been tall, and it wouldn’t surprise me to find that it was the young dryad that lived in the greenhouse.
I pause and roll my eyes at myself. It was strange how all of this had suddenly become so normal.
Then I hear voices and all my muscles. That is not the dryad.
There are two voices, low and rough, too quiet to hear if they were male or female. I creep forward further, carefully picking up the shovel leaning against the side of my house as I go.
“…home,” one of them hisses. “…to leave…”
“No,” the other says, voice slightly louder, sounding angry. “We need to get what we came for. That Peryton will fetch an incredible price.”
My mouth falls open. Poachers! I don’t know why I didn’t expect this, but perhaps I just thought that this farm was so well hidden that no one would ever be able to find us. It’s also an incredible surprise to find that there are poachers out there who know about all these creatures, though it probably shouldn’t be.
Still, regardless of what they know or how they knew it, they were on my farm, attempting to steal one of my animals. My hand tightens around the handle of the shovel and I step forward.
Crack.
I freeze as a twig snaps loudly beneath my feet, my heart pounding in my throat. Fuck.
There’s no use pretending any more. I dive to the side, rolling behind the hay box, and I’m glad I did when I gunshot sounds out, ringing through the night. Crap. They have guns and I just have a lousy metal shovel.
But the shots are loud. Hopefully someone will hear. Unfortunately, my property is a long way from anyone else; even if my neighbours heard, it would take far too long for them to get here. The only ones who had a chance of arriving on time were Warwick and the other man who lives with him, and that’s only if they did hear the shots.
I hear crunching footsteps and I scramble to my feet and run to the barn, taking advantage of their surprise and the encroaching darkness to flee before they can shoot. A shot follows me but misses wide by a mile, and I take shelter in the shadows, huffing.
I take back everything I said about maybe missing the action of Doctors Without Borders. I definitely don’t miss being in this kind of danger.
“Hey!”
A loud voice shouts out and I look around to see two figures racing up my long driveway. I recognise Warwick’s copper hair and, as he gets closer, I can see his eyes almost blazing with anger. Behind him is the other man, his hair redder than Warwick’s, his body just as broad and muscled. My heart leaps. They must have heard the shots and come to help.
After that, everything seems to happen far too quickly. With no apparent concern for their own safety, my neighbours dive into the fray, running straight at the two gunmen. I surge out from behind the barn, still clutching the damn shovel to myself, ready to help them defend my property. There are shouts and shots, and it’s all such a mess of confusion. I won’t be surprised if someone hears the commotion from town and calls the police on us.
I catch one of the poachers, coming up behind him and startling him so that Warwick can strike him, making him drop to the ground in an instant. He grins wildly at me, all teeth and danger, and he looks so wild that I stare.
Behind us, another shot rings through the night.
I watch as my ears ring, my eyes widening. Warwick’s housemate jerks back, gaping, and red blooms on his shirt, directly over his heart. My mind dashes forward, cataloguing his injury, clinically diagnosing him; a single shot to the heart means instant death.
Warwick roars and leaps. In moments the gun that killed the other has scattered away and the poacher has joined his unconscious friend. But my eyes are still on my neighbour, unable to believe what I’m seeing as he slumps to the ground, blood slowly collecting in a pool beneath him and his eyes wide and unseeing in death.
Luciana
It takes a moment, but my medica
l training overtakes my horror and shock. Before I know it, I’m dropping to my knees beside my neighbour, reaching out to feel for a pulse. I’m not surprised to find that there isn’t one, and no breath stirs his chest. I find his heart and press against it, heedless of the blood soaking my hands, hoping against hope that it might still be beating.
It isn’t.
He’s definitely dead, killed protecting me. I don’t even know his name.
“…iana… Luci… Luciana!”
I jerk at the sound of my name and blink at Warwick, who has joined me on the ground, staring at me over the corpse of his friend. I expect to see grief on his face, but, instead, there is just an odd sort of urgency.
“Luciana, you with me?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, rousing myself; I have seen death plenty of times. Now isn’t the time to fall apart.
“I need you to help me move him out of view,” Warwick says. “Can you help me? I’d ask you to help me take him home, but it’s too far. We’re going to need to borrow a room in your house.”
My brow furrows for a moment and then clears. Right. Warwick must be in shock. He doesn’t have the same sort of training I do.
“Of course,” I say, drawing on all my experience on dealing with loved ones that have just lost someone. “What’s his name, Warwick?”
“Dane,” Warwick says distractedly. “He’s my younger brother.”
Fuck, that’s not good. Warwick had just watched his brother die. The man may be an absolute idiot, but I would never have wished this on him.
It’s awkward but, between us, we manage to move Dane into the house, carrying him until we reach my spare bedroom. Blood drips on the floor around us, and I’ll have to clean it up later, but I can’t care about that right now, not when Warwick is looking so stressed and oddly determined.
We drop Dane carefully to the floor in the middle of the room, staining the floorboards and then we straighten, staring down at him. He’s pale, now, and I’m glad Warwick had the forethought to close his eyes.
“The police will probably be on their way, soon,” Warwick murmurs after a moment. “Dane called them as soon as we heard the first shot, on our way here.”
As if on cue, I hear the sirens coming closer.
“Luciana.”
I blink and look at Warwick. There’s an intense look in his eyes as he reaches out and grips my shoulders.
“Don’t tell them about Dane,” he says.
“What?” I ask, taken aback; there’s no way we can hide that someone died here.
“Please,” Warwick says, and his voice shakes ever so slightly. “Just for now.”
I search his face. The desperation in his eyes tells me how much he needs this right now. I sigh.
“Fine,” I say.
I can easily call them up later and explain that his brother was currently in intense denial. He’s going to need to face it, but maybe it might be better to do so after his brother’s killers are out of his reach.
Five minutes later, the knock comes on my door. Feeling incredibly tired, I open the door. This was definitely not the way I expected to spend my evening. I had two poachers unconscious in my yard, a dead body in my spare room and a grieving brother sitting beside him and watching him with an intense gaze. Nothing about this situation is normal.
“Hello,” one of the officers greeted me as I opened the front door, her smile kind. “We had reports of shots on your property.”
“Yes, some poachers attempted to attack me,” I say, stepping outside. “They had guns. My neighbours heard the attack and came to help me.”
“Can you show us?” the other officer asks as he pulls out a notebook.
The two poachers are, thankfully, still unconscious. The female officer calls for backup and a forensic team on the radio, eyeing the puddle of Dane’s blood on the ground. I can hear the animals making movement in the barn, restless by all the unusual sounds and their hunger.
It doesn’t take long for the entire place to turn into a crime scene, officers flooding the fields. They take the guns for evidence and rouse the two poachers enough to force them to their feet and arrest them. Several of the bullets were found nearby and I feel a little sick as I see how close one had actually come to my hiding spot around the side of the barn.
“Whose blood is this?” one of the officers asked.
I eye it. It isn’t a huge puddle.
“One of the neighbours that came to help was shot,” I say, keeping to the truth as much as possible and reminding myself that I can call and correct the story in a few hours, when Warwick won’t freak out about it. “He was injured. His brother went to get him help.”
“Alright,” the officer says. He scribbles something down in a notepad and rips the page out, handing it to me. “That’s my number. When you see your neighbours, ask them to call me so we can discuss what happened.”
“I will,” I say.
When it’s clear that the officers will be here for a while longer as they search the property, I head to the barn to feed the animals, making sure to slip inside before anyone can catch sight of the animals that were there. I don’t know who, exactly, knows about my father’s creatures, but I would definitely prefer to make sure there aren't any other situations with those who think they can take what doesn’t belong to them.
It takes some time to calm the animals and, afterwards, I still need to visit the others. By the time I make it back to the fields, most of the police officers have gone, leaving only the last two as they finish writing a few things in their books. They look up at my approach.
“Thank you for your patience, Luciana,” the officer says. “I’m sorry this has happened to you. We’ve taken a look at the security of your property. Several fences are quite old and short near the back of the property, which is probably how the poachers got in. I would also suggest getting yourself a surveillance system.”
“I will, thank you,” I say tiredly, shaking their hands.
“We’ll let you know if anything else comes up,” the female officer says. “Please make sure your neighbours contact us.”
I nod and watch them leave. As their car meanders down the driveway, I sigh. I would love nothing more than to just fall into bed right now, but I can’t. I still need to deal with Warwick and Dane.
Warwick isn’t in the living room, but that doesn’t surprise me. I enter the guest bedroom, which I’m halfway certain I’ll end up offering the man for the night so he can keep his vigil over his dead brother, to see him sitting cross legged beside the corpse.
“Warwick,” I say quietly. “Would you like anything else to drink?”
Warwick looks up. By now, I would definitely have expected to see some sign of grief in his eyes, especially since he had just spent the last several hours beside his dead brother. But his eyes still shone with determination.
“No, thank you,” he says politely.
As I watch, he looks down at his watch and frowns before glancing out the window, a wary look in his eyes as though he expects someone to be looking in. Then he looks at his watch again, and I wonder what the hell he expects to happen.
No. No, I’m absolutely not going to let this happen. It’s going to hurt, but Warwick needs to accept this. If he doesn’t, it’s just going to be more painful when the realisation hits him.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say carefully.
He looks up again, confused.
“Loss?” he asks.
I wince. This is so much worse than I thought it was. His denial has resulted in complete delusion.
“You and Dane saved my life,” I continue firmly. “I’m sorry that it cost him his.”
“No,” Warwick says instantly. “It’s alright, Dane didn’t die, Luciana, he just needs time to recover.”
I don’t know how he thought he could convince me of that.
“Warwick…” I start.
“Luciana, thank you, but it’s fine,” Warwick says gently, as though I was in the one in need of
comfort. “You must have made a mistake while you were looking for his pulse, he has one now. Why don’t you go rest, you look tired.”
Alright, enough is enough. I’m a doctor and I definitely know exactly where a pulse is, thank you very much. I drop down on the other side of Dane.
“Dane is gone, Warwick,” I say bluntly and he starts. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, but this needs to stop. I’m a doctor, I know he didn’t have a pulse. I’ll show you, now.”
I reach out.
“Wait!” Warwick yelped, suddenly panicked. “Don’t!”
And then Dane bursts into flame.
Warwick
I can never remember just how long it takes for the process to start; it isn’t like Dane and I make a habit of dying on a regular basis, after all. What I do know is that I need to protect him until he comes back to life. At this point, he is incredibly vulnerable. If the Supernaturals stumble across us now, there’s a high chance that Dane may die for real.
In my panic, I had brought Dane to the closest place of safety, where no one could see us, and that was Luciana’s place. As I begin to calm down, however, I kick myself for it. There were officers crawling everywhere outside, and I have no way of carrying Dane out of here myself without Luciana growing suspicious.
It doesn’t help that she had checked him before I could stop her. I recognise how expertly her hands checked his pulse; she is someone in the medical profession it seems, and she knew, clearly, that Dane was dead. I’m not entirely certain how I’m going to convince her otherwise.
For now, though, that doesn’t matter. What does matter is protecting my brother until he can protect himself. I sit in vigil beside him, checking my watch and trying not to count down the seconds that pass.
It seems like forever before Luciana returns, and I can hear that there isn’t as much of a commotion outside. I glance at my watch again. If the police are gone, now would be the best time to move Dane, if only I can convince Luciana. Time is getting close now. It’s been hours since Dane was shot and I know that it won’t be much longer.
