Lane was sweet, wrapping me in the throw off the back of the couch and tucking me against his side. I pointed out that, really, he should be upset. I needed to leave, or Morgan was going to kill him. Lane just shrugged and cuddled me closer. I wasn’t usually much for cuddling, having grown up with so little physical affection, but with him I always seemed to make exceptions.
We sat in silence for a while, and then I started talking. I told him about meeting Morgan my first week in Calgary, how I had fled there after spending months alone after my brother’s death. I had just been waiting to either die or go crazy in that house. I had been an easy victim.
“I met him at Stampede a few weeks after I moved to the city.” The parallel wasn’t lost on me, and I winced but kept going. “I was terrified and alone. I wanted to be around people, and he helped me get settled and find my feet.”
The memory of how unassuming he’d seemed made me shudder. “He’d been friendly. Saw I was uncomfortable there and drove me home so I didn’t have to take the train again. He told me about the city, good placed to find jobs, cheaper areas that were safe to live in, places mages went and others we avoided.”
I closed my eyes, making myself continue. “He started hurting me after we moved in together. Nothing big at first, just little shows of anger I brushed off. He’s an emotional guy, and I made excuses for it.”
Morgan’s cronies had largely ignored me, so it had always just really been the two of us. I hadn’t shared their interests. Watching Morgan as he killed had visibly shattered me. Any of those close enough to Morgan to see his challenges had also seen me hide my face, or watched me beg him to show mercy to the defeated challengers. I hadn’t belonged, and only stood there because Morgan demanded it.
My stomach fluttered as Lane cupped my jaw and kissed me. So much care and affection, all for me. I hated baring this part of me to him, letting him see the weak man who had stood by and watched slaughter and cruelty.
“I’m not going to let him hurt you ever again,” he vowed. His intent burned beneath the words, emphasizing how strongly he felt what he was saying.
“He tried to kick Olive. He’d never bothered her before, but then he’d almost hurt her—I had to go. If something happens, please take her. I’m sorry, it isn’t fair to ask—we just met—but I’ll never let him near her again.”
“You have my word, as long as Joe doesn’t snatch her up first. I’ll also get you back. He’s a monster, and I’m not going to let him stay loose to terrorize you.”
“Can you even be a victim,” I asked, “if you just hand yourself over like that?”
"You left him. That makes you stronger than you realize."
"I ran," I corrected. "I freaking came to the other side of the country to escape."
"You left." His words were steady and firm, and I could read his conviction in his eyes. He didn't just say the words; he meant them. I wished I could feel that same certainty.
“What about Corey?” I asked him. “What do we do?”
“Corey and I are going to stay with you, and we’ll get to the bottom of all of it. That sound fair?”
I closed my eyes, pressing closer and breathing in his smell. Yes, it sounded unbelievably good. Why they would do that I had no idea. He should just leave me and find a way to safety, or at the very least blame me for all of this.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you for trusting us.”
Chapter Sixteen
Corey worked until eight that night, and when he got home he listened to Lane and then, giving me a rough pat on the head, went to pack a bag. He was pale, having heard about Bennett’s death and already knowing he’d be a sure source for blame even if he had an alibi. What good were alibis, after all, when the dead one was a mage and his family knew you had been fighting?
“We’ll get to your place,” he told me. “Then Lane gets the story he wants. I guess if you can tell yours then I might as well give you mine.”
“You barely know me, and already I have both of you in danger,” I sighed. “This is insanity.”
“You say this crazy tore your very human boss to shreds with his energies and you think we’re going to pass you back over to him?” Corey asked, shouldering his bag and hauling me off the couch before Lane and I could stand. “That would be insanity.”
And he meant it. They were good people. Too good for me to deserve.
“Neither of you understand how dangerous he is,” I pressed, shaking my head and practically throwing up my hands at their stubbornness.
Lane came in my car, and Corey followed in his jeep. It was a quiet drive. Lane sat brooding in the passenger seat, the pressure of his hand on my thigh the only sign he might not regret coming. It was a comfort I wished I wasn’t so thankful for. While part of me wished to have him as far away as I could get him, a selfish part was thankful he had refused to run.
I’d find a way to keep him safe even if it meant my death.
“I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “Stop, Brett. This isn’t your fault.”
“It feels like it is.”
“That’s him talking. He’d tell you that you caused it, huh?” He took my uncomfortable silence for the admission it was and continued, voice gentle but firm. “So. Is he right, then? Should you really have stayed with him? A man who, from the sounds of it, enjoys killing and watching people suffer?”
No. That didn’t mean that I hadn’t still managed to mess it all up.
“I should have kept to myself.”
He squeezed my thigh, but I could see out of the corner of my eye that his eyes were still trained on the road. “No,” he countered. “If you’d done that then I wouldn’t know you.”
He moved his hand to curve his fingers around my neck, careful not to jostle my arm, and let me feel the truth of his conviction. It forced a weak smile onto my lips.
“You’re amazing,” I told him. “Unbelievably wonderful.”
I wished I could spare him this.
Lane’s phone rang as we pulled into my driveway. Turning off the ignition, I hopped out to offer some privacy, but he followed, phone clutched to his head.
“Oh, hey, Carole—”
He snapped a glance at me while he listened, and I felt a thread of shame at how I’d deserted them today. “He’s fine,” Lane assured her, shooting a half-smile my way. “I have him here.” He listened again, then gave his head a little shake. “Yeah, it was the guy. I won’t get into it on the phone, but he’s pretty shaken up. That man shows up again, get out of there, okay? He’s bad news.”
He mouthed a “sorry” my way, but I shook my head, letting him know it was fine and that I understood.
****
We sat on the veranda, three mugs of coffee practically untouched as they cooled in our hands. Corey told us everything, and it was a lot to take in.
“Eve was part of that cult spreading their flyers all over town. That’s why I left her, you know, because she was buying in to that insanity and I couldn’t hack it. I have no idea what she told them, but she kept calling me. I guess that, once she got hit, they figured I was the one who couldn’t let her go.”
He gave a sad smile, shaking his head. “Everyone kept saying the baby was mine, but it wasn’t. It was the stupid cult leader’s. JJ.”
“JJ?”
“Ass says it sounds more important. Jim Jason, a few years older than you. Remember him?” He shook his head. “Those wackos have been dogging me since then, claiming they want revenge for my jealousy and murder. No matter how many times I told them I didn’t do it, they just wouldn’t let up.”
“You’d be easy to blame,” I mused, wondering at how Morgan could tie into all this. “Did you think he did it?”
“No, I just figured it was what everyone said—an accident, hit and run. She was pretty into it all. I never for a second thought she was threatening to leave, and why else would he have killed her? Man wanted the whole ‘father of her baby’ part hushed around town, but she told me he
bragged to all of their freaky fellows.”
“And so Bennett targeted you, too.”
“Yeah,” he sighed.
“So, the whole thing about Annette?”
“I made it up. It has always been about Eve. All of it.”
“But I don’t think he did it. JJ,” I explained, when they both snapped their eyes on me. I shivered, gripping my hands tighter. “Is he breaking any laws?”
“Eve said he wasn’t. I can’t say for sure. He’s nuts. Still, I want to say not that nuts.”
A jeep pulled into the driveway, stopping the rest of our conversation. I stiffened, and felt Lane do the same at my side. When he relaxed I told myself it must be all right.
Then I recognized the jeep, and changed my mind.
The slamming of Carole’s passenger-side door as she leapt out had me wincing, and then she was stomping our way, all but spitting fire. Her husband got out of the jeep to stand at the driver’s side door, not coming any closer to the house.
"What the hell, Brett?” she yelled before she got to us. Corey scrambled up to open the door for her. She barely glanced his way before stalking over to tower over me. “What were you thinking? Why didn't you say anything?"
"He's dangerous. What could I do? You were both there, and Ivan—he already killed one human, what would stop him there?"
"Us! We would've run him out. If he did anything we could call Lane's dad, or Avery!"
Chapter Seventeen
I watched Corey throw his coat on, a pain in my chest swelling at the sight. “Be careful,” I told him.
He gawked at me, shaking his head. “Some guy just chased you from the other side of the country and you’re telling me to be careful?”
“It’s my fault this is happening. You have people blaming you for your friend’s death. He might be out there, but so are they.”
“Right. Your fault. Because you left a forwarding address for him, then made him hit Eve with his car.” Corey’s voice caught on her name, but his glare kept me from offering comfort.
“I left my address with my boss,” I answered. “I might as well have killed him, too.”
“You said he was human, right? Your boss?”
I nodded. “I still don’t know how Morgan hasn’t received punishment. By all accounts, the Faded should have taken care of him by now.”
Corey shrugged, stretching his shoulders then heading for the door. “No worries, cutie. It’s just a little delayed. I have no doubt he’ll be getting it. Don’t frazzle those pretty curls.”
A strange conviction to hear from such a rebel. I smiled at his back, touched, then picked up my coffee and went to join Lane on the veranda. He’d called in late, refusing to leave until I headed in for work. I had offered to go in early and save him the wait, but he’d assured me it was fine.
“You need the extra sleep,” he said. “Da’ll be fine.”
****
Lane's father dropped by to talk later the next day, his truck loaded down with boards and his face set. I stared for a moment through the screen door, startled by his presence, then hastened to let him in. Whatever he wanted, I doubted it would be pleasant, but I had the duty to his sons to face it.
"Hello, sir," I greeted him.
"My sons have been staying here," he broke in without preamble.
"Yes."
It wasn't so much living here as squatting and trying to declare rights, but Gregory wasn't looking for that type of clarification.
"Why? Lane isn't saying a word to us, but something has him distracted. Corey even mentioned his preoccupation, and the boy's a thick-headed, self-focused dolt." Gregory’s eyes might be the same color as his son's, but they were far colder when they looked at me. I didn't blame him, but no matter what I did Lane wouldn't be chased off. “Then Corey clammed up, and now this.”
I struggled to piece together a response. He didn't wait.
"Your house—this one—was broken into, and my eldest was furious. He came to me asking for strings to be pulled. Now he won't talk about it, hushed and saying he's sure it's fine. I doubt he told you about my past involvement in the government, so I expect it'll be a surprise when I tell you I pulled strings of my own regarding you."
My chest constricted. I could see myself joining my family, charred like Geoff or sunk into the ground like my father. I'd trusted them, and look who I'd trusted. Gramp's words, for all of their paranoia, ran true. He knew what I was, and now I knew what he was. I waited for the fear to hit, but it was still missing. My boogeyman sat there, and all I could only manage to feel was cold.
Government involvement. A Faded, or connected.
"Sir," I managed. Lane had told me no such thing, no matter how much I’d told him.
About your past with Morgan, a voice in my mind pointed out, but how much did you tell him about your childhood? How your family died?
"You'd been living in Alberta until coming here. No family since sometime around six years ago, your brother's whereabouts unknown but the man presumed dead," he stated flatly. "Your known community at your previous location was a troubling one, connected through your lover, Morgan Langseth. Every source I've spoken to or read cites him as insane, power-hungry, and well-connected to an unsettling movement along the western coast." There was a minute softening in his eyes there, pity, but he was a father and it was tempered with the same concern that had brought him here. "You left him, I expect."
"I didn't want anything to do with his movement," I swore, speaking with difficulty past the lodged bulge in my throat. "I was alone and he gave me a place, but I never shared his beliefs. I broke ties when I left."
"Did he break his to you?"
No. I'd hoped it, done everything in my power to leave no trail, but he'd still managed to find me. I shouldn't have told Jeff, but I'd needed him for a reference, and never anticipated the extent of Morgan's madness.
Gregory read the answer in my silence, but I couldn't be that weak, even knowing what the man was. "He followed me here," I sighed, forcing myself to not look away. I deserved whatever he chose to give me.
“You know,” he said in answer, “I was yelled at for most of the morning yesterday.” I stared, and he narrowed his eyes at me. “First by my eldest, then, surprisingly, by my youngest.”
Of course, they had. Never mind that he was perfectly in his right for being upset, and that I shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place.
“I’m sorry,” I offered. “And I’m sorry about Corey. The trouble.”
He brushed it aside.
"My son wanted me to check into your break-in," Gregory stated bluntly. "I cut most of my ties with the old crowd long ago, but I love my son and so I asked. They had a lot to find about you. A house in your ownership has three bodies on the property from the last twenty-odd years, one fresh enough that it could hardly have been there for more than six years." Barely over five, actually. My stomach clenched as he gave me a hard look. "Beneath your root cellar were dozens more, buried deep. Some very old and others little older than that fresh one."
So no more than six years buried. I stared, speechless. Where had the bodies come from? How could he even know? The movers had only been there the once, and the realtor…
Jeff would have likely gone to the property to assess it, not just taking my word for how many bodies there were. Of course. And then he had never told me.
“I don’t understand,” I told him honestly, my blood ice in my veins.
"Their people bought the house. I'm still getting a runaround on the why, but they had reason to want it. Records show you were the last one living there, and energy signatures suggest you alone have visited the last few years."
Once a year, while Morgan was away, I'd taken a day to drive out to look at the grounds. Sometimes I had gone inside, others I had only sat in my car until I turned it back on and left. No heat or water had been run in years, only old family charms keeping it from being completely destroyed by mold and neglect. A monument for my dead family
.
Better, maybe, if it had rotted away with me there to wait out my end. Then I'd never have been teased with this happiness only to have my lover's father yank it away.
"There was no one else to want in other than my realtor," I told him honestly, mind spinning as I tried to understand what I was hearing.
"Jeffrey Pratt, yes. One of our western division." He shrugged. "They also sent you here, hand-picked their connection and told her you needed somewhere quiet and safe to heal."
His words gave me a chill. To heal? And, "Kay knew?"
"That you'd been hurt? That yes, not the why or how. I spoke to Kay, and she said she was told the same thing she told Lillian and Joe—that you were alone and needed people."
The knowledge she’d spoken to my neighbors about me made it all seem so foreign. This sounded nothing like the government Gramp had always described. "So you claim that the Faded have done this all from good will?"
"Hardly," he answered. "Despite our feelings, there are no laws to allow us to step in until situations escalate to where hiding them from the humans becomes difficult. Your situation, while regrettable, is hardly uncommon. Pity, the desire to help, yes, those are likely. This extent of care and action has a different touch."
"Why are you telling me and not Lane?"
"I'll talk to him when I know more. Right now, you’re my best chance for answers."
"I'll tell you anything you want to know," I told him. There was little point hiding anything anymore. Everyone who had told me to was gone, their secrecy having done little good in the end. Gramp died old and bitter, Gram twisted inside with anxieties none of us could assuage.
“Thank you. If I can answer their questions, perhaps we can get some answers for you.” His words were hard, but not unkind. I steeled myself for his first question. “What bodies do you know of?”
I flinched but answered readily, true to my word. “My brother, father, and grandfather are all buried there. I have no idea who the rest of the bodies belong to.”
Upon the River Shore Page 14
