Hunting November

by Adriana Mather

  “Sorry, I barely remember closing my eyes,” I say, rubbing my hands over my face. “Where are we?”

  “The Highlands,” Ash says.

  I practically fall out of the bed. “What? I slept through the landing? I don’t even…” I pull on my boots and straighten out the blankets.

  “I would have let you sleep longer, but we need to go. It’s late afternoon here and we have work to do tonight,” he says, and I can hear a little distance in his voice. I meant to apologize for putting him in danger in Pembrook after I searched everything last night, but clearly that didn’t happen.

  “Right. Yeah, of course.” I slip on my jacket and grab my duffel bag.

  He turns off the plane and I make my way down the steps.

  “Another barn?” I say as he follows me out. Although this one looks considerably older than the one we left, hundreds of years older. “Is this a Strategia thing…parking planes in barns? Is that why you knew what we’d be looking for with that key back in Pembrook?”

  He nods and offers to take my bag with a gesture, but I shake my head.

  “For the places we frequent or for important meeting spots, we rent barns or warehouses year-round. And everywhere else we need to travel, we find a location that we can make work. But this particular barn is one my Family uses throughout the year,” he says, and walks around the plane to a car that’s covered with a tan tarp.

  He pulls back the cover to reveal a sleek black Mercedes.

  “Whoa. How rich are you guys?” I say, even though I’m sure that’s not a polite question. I’ve just never been around people who kept spare sports cars in other countries for convenience.

  Ash laughs for the first time in a long time and I instantly realize how much I’ve missed our usual banter. These past forty-eight hours have been almost nothing but tense.

  “We do okay for ourselves. All Strategia do,” he says, and pulls out the keys from under the wheel hood. He pops the trunk with a click and we throw our bags in the back.

  “Apparently so,” I say. “Remind me to send you my holiday list when this is all over.”

  Ash opens the passenger door for me and I climb in.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “The Raven’s Nest,” he says before he joins me in his James Bond vehicle.

  * * *

  Ash and I drive through the farmland of Scotland with me glued to the window, as I have been for most of the ride; it’s undeniably the prettiest place I’ve ever seen in my life, with rolling hills, villages filled with stone houses that look like they were plucked out of a medieval fairy tale, and lakes surrounded by snow-capped mountains that sparkle in the setting sun. I’m reminded of my aunt Jo and my promise to enjoy every piece of wonderful as it comes along. It’s just a bummer that it’s not safe to have my phone because I’m dying to take pictures, which I think I’ve told Ash at least five times by now. But he’s mostly been quiet this entire ride. Layla goes quiet when she’s thinking, but I’ve never seen Ash do it before. It’s possible this situation requires more contemplating than usual. But it’s also possible that he’s just annoyed with me.

  “I’m still sorry, Ash,” I say, and turn to look at him. I attempted to talk to him about this when we got in the car, but he responded briskly and we turned our attention to navigating, filling up the tank, and getting some food for the road. And when I tried to transition the conversation to the Lion Family, he said we would talk about it later.

  “Okay,” he says, and I get the sense that it’s not okay.

  It’s nearly impossible for me to let things go when I know someone’s frustrated with me. I think my insistence causes bigger fights in the end, but I feel incomplete when situations are left unresolved.

  “You’re mad,” I say. “It’s fine. I get it. You should be mad. I put us in a shit position back there.”

  “I’m not mad at you, November,” he says, but his tone isn’t easy.

  “Well, I’m sorry just the same. I know what kind of a risk you took by coming with me. When that guy hit you…God, Ash, if it had been a knife instead of a punch,” I say again, shuddering as an image of the assassin flashes into my mind.

  “But it wasn’t.”

  “No, it wasn’t. But still,” I say, searching for the words to tell him how much it means to me that he’s here, and how much I know that he’s taking an unbelievably huge risk. Normally this would be a breeze for me. I’ve had to apologize to Emily so many times that I consider myself somewhat of an expert. But with Ash it’s different. It feels like so much is at stake, not just in our danger-addled situation, but between us personally.

  We’re silent for a good minute, BBC Radio filling the quiet car.

  Suddenly Ash switches it off. “Why do you think I came here with you, November?” He wears the same laser-focused expression his sister uses when she’s concentrating on a problem.

  My pulse quickens. “Why?”

  “Yes, why would I leave my twin sister, my training at the Academy, and risk my life to be here with you?” he asks, and I can see that this answer is important to him.

  “Um,” I manage. My dad always said I could talk the hind leg off a dog, but right now English seems to have vanished from my brain altogether. Ash waits and I swallow. “Well, you want to stop the Lions, for starters.”

  “Not the reason I’m getting at.”

  I’ve never seen Ash this serious and it’s making it harder to think. “You enjoy a good risk?”

  “I’m falling for you, November,” he says, and my heart pounds so hard that I hold my breath, hoping it will slow down and not reveal how off-kilter those words make me feel. “I realize that might sound trivial to you. I saw those pictures in your room, listened to your stories. And I am certain that you’ve been surrounded by people who care about you your entire life. But it’s new to me. Caring about someone other than my Family wasn’t encouraged; in fact it was actively discouraged.”

  I remember him telling me how attached he was to his best friend and how she was burned alive in her house. I would stop getting attached to people, too.

  “You asked me why I decided to come on this mission with you. You listed all the reasons I shouldn’t. That is why. The truth. Because being without you felt like a greater sacrifice than all the rest.” He steals a look at me and my stomach drops so fast that I reflexively touch it.

  For two seconds I just stare at him. I want to tell him that it’s not trivial and that I care about him a great deal. But I can’t seem to get my thoughts in order or my tongue to work. “I…”

  “No, you don’t need to say anything. I don’t expect you to,” he says, and before I can respond he continues. “But I do need you to trust me. You didn’t say a word to me before you left for Emily’s.”

  I rub my forehead, my cheeks flushing. “I know. I…It’s just Pembrook. I guess I’m not used to asking someone before I do things there.” As the words leave my mouth, I know they aren’t even a sliver of what they should be.

  Ash laughs, but not like he thinks it’s funny, like he thinks it’s sad. “I don’t want you to ask my permission. We’re partners. We need to consult each other about decisions that affect the course we’re on. We’re attempting not only to find your father, but to subvert and potentially attack the most powerful Strategia Family in the world. If we aren’t on the exact same page, the Lions will crush us. They might crush us anyway. But if we have a slipup here in the UK like the one we had in Pembrook, we’ll end up dead.”

  I exhale. “You’re right. One hundred percent. I didn’t tell you because I thought you would convince me not to go. And maybe I shouldn’t have gone. It was a selfish decision. I just couldn’t stand the thought that I might never see her again. In that moment it felt like I couldn’t go on if I didn’t at least let her know I was alive. But I didn’t think it through. And my carelessness
put us both at risk. Again, I’m sorry. I really truly am.” I touch the tin with my dad’s note in it.

  “All is forgiven,” he says, and pulls off the highway and onto a dirt road lined with trees.

  I stare at my hands for a long moment. He’s done nothing but give me the benefit of the doubt since this whole thing began and I’ve returned the favor with bad decisions and an inability to tell him how I feel.

  Ash said he’s falling for me. No one I’ve dated has ever said that to me before. And the truth is, there’s no one I would want to hear it from more than him. And I just blew past it with a stutter. I look at Ash. He’s just as beautiful in profile as he is straight-on. And as outrageous and daring as he is, he’s also got such a good heart. If I could push a rewind button on this whole conversation and approach it differently, I would.

  He glances at me, his lips turned up in a small smile. My cheeks deepen their flush and I turn away, staring out the window, searching for the right words. Get yourself together, November! The last of the sunlight flickers through the trees, whimsically speckling our path. The sun moves lower in the sky and hugs the horizon, spilling red and orange through the bare winter branches.

  Suddenly the trees clear and the dirt road becomes an enormous circle with a well-manicured lawn at its center. On the other side of the green is a giant stone mansion with spires that reach into the darkening sky.

  “Raven’s Nest Manor,” Ash says as I attempt to pick my jaw up off the floor. He drives around the circle toward it, and the closer it gets, the more impressive it gets. “A twelfth-century manor house that was converted into an inn. Home to Raven’s Pub, a favorite among locals and a meeting place for Strategia.”

  “Meeting place…but aren’t we in Lion territory?” I ask, wondering how worried I should be.

  “Technically, yes. But we’re on the outskirts. And in every Family’s territory there are places like this, meeting spots that have developed over the past thousand years that all the Families use to trade information and make deals.”

  Ash stops the car, and before I have a chance to open my door, a butler in white gloves and a long-tailed coat opens it for me.

  “Thank you,” I squeak, looking up at the imposing Gothic manor. There is an oversized wreath on the door and a single candle in every window, making the whole place feel magical.

  The butler takes our bags and Ash offers me the crook of his arm. If I felt out of my element at Academy Absconditi, it’s nothing compared to this. We take the fanned staircase to the front door and Ash opens it for us.

  The front foyer is an impressively tall room with ornately arched ceilings. The woodwork on the walls is accented with gold-framed paintings and garlands of pine and red berries, and there is a fifteen-foot Christmas tree that makes the one in my town square look plain. I would squeal if I weren’t positive Ash would kill me. Where is my effing camera?!

  Ash leads us to a large antique desk at the far end of the room. A man with a neat full beard and a hunter-green tweed suit sits behind it.

  The bearded man smiles. “Nice to see you, Mr. Ashai. I’m assuming you’ll want your usual suite?” he asks in a Scottish accent. He stands and pulls an old-fashioned iron key from one of the desk drawers.

  “Exactly so, Murray,” Ash says, matching the guy’s Scottish accent. I do a double take. I never considered Ash’s ability with accents, or my lack thereof.

  He takes the key. “But no need to see us up. Our bags are light.”

  Ash lets go of my arm and takes our luggage from the butler who carried it in, giving him a tip. He heads for an impressive curving staircase. Each turn we make, there is some new grandeur, and I’m beginning to seriously wonder about my parents, who gave up this life of luxury and intrigue to live in quiet Pembrook.

  Ash opens the door to his family’s suite and turns on the lights.

  “You’re kidding me right now,” I say, and practically trip over myself getting inside. “It looks like we just entered a Gothic queen’s private apartment.” There are black velvet couches, tall arched windows and vaulted ceilings, chandeliers, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

  “Like it?” he asks with an amused expression.

  “Like it? I want to move in,” I say, circling the sitting room, running my fingers over ornate furniture that makes me feel like I’ve stepped back into a fantasy kingdom. “This is really your life….You just keep planes and cars in other countries, and stay in places like this as though it were normal?” There is some amount of awe in my voice.

  Ash laughs and gives me a full smile, indicating that whatever tension was there before is now gone. And I smile back.

  “We need to get ready to go to the pub. We can eat dinner there while feeling out who might have information about your father,” he says, and I look down at my worn jeans.

  “Judging by the elegance of the serving staff and that foyer, I’m guessing these jeans aren’t going to cut it,” I say, but he’s already disappearing with my duffel bag into one of the adjacent rooms.

  I follow him into a bedroom with a four-poster wooden bed that has a canopy of sheer black fabric.

  “You can stay in Layla’s room,” he says, and I nod with an open mouth, promising myself despite the imminent danger that I’ll enjoy every last detail of this.

  He rifles through an armoire and pulls out a floor-length sapphire-blue dress that looks like it belongs to a princess.

  “You and Layla are about the same size; this should do,” he says, and hands it to me.

  Emily would be losing her mind right now, I think. And just like that my moment shatters. Emily is back in Pembrook, worried and scared, my dad is being hunted, and I just inadvertently killed someone in the woods behind my house. Nothing is ever going to be the same. I’m never going to be the same.

  I SIT AT Layla’s vanity, applying smoky eye shadow. I haven’t worn makeup since before I left for the Academy, and even though it was never a big thing for me the way it was for Em, I’ve always enjoyed going through the motions of dressing up. I put on a final touch of cherry-flavored lip gloss, rubbing my lips together, and stand, smoothing my hands over the silky fabric of Layla’s blue dress. I smile at myself in the mirror, but my good mood deflates when I catch sight of the tin on the bed behind me in the reflection.

  I’m not even trying to convince myself that Old Jack’s dog holds some sentimental meaning. My dad lied to me, made a deal with the headmaster at the Academy to stop his brother, and then left me a clue that I couldn’t decipher myself. It’s like the person I’ve counted on my entire life, the one who’s always supported me and made me feel safe, suddenly decided to change his personality. I turn around, glare at the tin, and leave the room, hoping distance will lessen its impact.

  Ash’s eyes light up when he sees me, and he stands. But a split second later his smile transforms into a questioning gaze. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes,” I say too brusquely.

  For a second we just stand there.

  I frown. “I just…I don’t know how my dad…”

  “Could write you such a sparse note?” he offers.

  “Exactly!” I say with a bit too much emphasis.

  Ash takes a breath. “It’s more than likely he was being cautious, in the event that someone other than you found the note.”

  I shake my head. “Let’s assume you’re right that he couldn’t leave me an address or a phone number; I can accept that. But what about…the rest? He could have said something else. Anything else.”

  Ash nods like he understands what I’m not saying—that I needed more from my dad, a lot more. It’s like Aunt Jo used to say, it’s not enough to know you love someone, it’s important to let them know it.

  “Do you want to talk—”

  “No,” I say, shelving my hurt because it’s only going to make it harder to concentrate on
what we have to do. “Not about that. Let’s just…why don’t you tell me about this pub we’re going to.”

  “Wellll,” Ash says. “It’s all very civilized. There’s a no-killing rule.”

  I raise an eyebrow, not convinced by his definition of civilized.

  “If you attack someone here, you not only get banished from this inn, but from the entire group of properties like this one across Europe,” Ash continues. “And as you might imagine, these are something of a favorite among Strategia for trading information and, well, a dalliance here and there.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t just use the word dalliance for hookup,” I say, and my frustration wavers.

  “Upset that my vocabulary’s excellent and English isn’t even my first language?” he says, and grins.

  I fight a smile and uncross my arms. “Don’t you dare try to be funny when I’m clearly in a mood.”

  “It’s not my fault that you find me irresistibly charming,” he says.

  Now I do smile. “Is that what you think?”

  “That’s what I know,” he says. “Your body language is virtually screaming ‘attraction.’ You’ve uncrossed your arms and you’re leaning toward me—signs that you’re much more open and engaged than you were a minute ago. You’ve also tilted your head slightly, which suggests interest and makes your pheromones easier to detect. And those are only a couple of the indicators.”

  My smile widens. “Show-off.”

  He laughs. “Who ever said modesty was a virtue?”

  “Not a Strategia, that’s for sure.”

  “Certainly not,” he says, and once again offers me the crook of his arm.

  I let out a long exhale and wind my arm in his. “Okay, let’s do this.” And just like that my mind focuses back on the task at hand. My dad left me one clue, and however cryptically annoying it may be, this is my only chance to figure it out.

  Ash and I make our way down the stairs, only we don’t stop at the ground floor; we continue down to a space that I can only describe as a lavish dungeon. The walls are gray stone studded with iron sconces and the furniture is dark wood appointed with red velvet. The bar itself has a wooden canopy over it that is carved into points and spires, mimicking the outside architecture of the manor.