Avenging Autumn

by Marissa Farrar

  “Well, I hope she’s right. I think it’s fantastic news.” His hand reached for her belly. “You, me, and a baby. We’ll be a family.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  BLAKE HAD TOO many questions.

  What the hell had happened to A.J.’s body? He didn’t doubt that Wenona and Lakota had buried it in that spot, but it clearly wasn’t there anymore. Someone had switched the bodies, and he had his suspicions about the culprit.

  Autumn had refused to leave her father’s body lying in the dirt. Instead, Chogan had fully unearthed it, and then wrapped the body in the length of tarp in which the shovels had been bundled. Together, they’d lifted her father’s body into the back of the truck, and now they were driving back to Wenona’s house. Blake wondered what would be waiting for them there. Nothing appeared to run smoothly in their lives at the moment.

  “This is Vivian’s work,” Autumn said from the back seat, her jaw tight. “She’s here.”

  Blake couldn’t argue with her. Vivian leaving Autumn’s father’s body was one thing preying on his mind, but the other thing was that Vivian had also taken A.J.’s body. What reason could she have for doing that, apart from using the body as evidence to cause trouble for him, Autumn, and the others?

  “We’ll find her,” he tried to assure Autumn. “She’s still going to be close. She’s going to want to see the fallout of leaving your father’s body.”

  “We need to flush her out,” said Chogan, as he drove. “She must be around here somewhere. We just need to find a way of making her come out of hiding.”

  “She must have lost the men supporting her,” said Blake. “It’s the only reason for her to have not attacked the house, as she knows exactly where we are. That she’s lost her men and so has no physical backup is the only thing that makes sense.”

  Autumn leaned forward. “I agree. But she still wants her revenge on me. It’s the only reason she’d leave my father’s body like that.”

  Blake shook his head. “Not the only reason. She took A.J.’s body, remember? She must have been watching the house for the last twenty-four hours for her to even know about his death. She’s planning on using that against us.”

  “Shit.”

  Chogan glanced over, taking his eyes off the trail momentarily. “Can’t we just shift and sweep the forest? We’re bound to pick up a scent and be able to hunt her down.”

  Blake pressed his lips together in contemplation, and tried not to think about the fact he wasn’t able to shift with his cousin. “It might be exactly what she wants. We might be walking into a trap.” He noticed Autumn had gone quiet, and turned back to her. “What are you thinking, Autumn?”

  She gave him a forced smile. “Only that I want my father buried before I start worrying about that bitch.”

  “A funeral? Where? Here, or back in Chicago?”

  “That depends,” she replied.

  They pulled up to the house, and Autumn climbed out of the vehicle. She walked to Blake’s door and opened it for him.

  “I need to talk to Robert Carter,” she said. “I figure after all these years of secrecy, he owes me a favor.”

  A group of the others exited the house onto the porch, running down to meet the vehicle. Peter wheeled Blake’s chair out toward them, Mia hurrying along just behind him. The sight of the wheelchair made his stomach sink, but he pushed the sensation away. He needed to think positively now. His recent experiences had taught him that much.

  “Everything okay?” Peter asked as he got closer. “Did you do what you needed?”

  Blake shook his head. “Not exactly. Vivian Winters is close. We all need to be prepared that she might try something soon.”

  Peter glanced around at the surrounding area, as though expecting the woman to come bursting from between the trees with an army at her back. “Like what?”

  “We don’t know, but we just found Autumn’s father’s body.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  Mia turned toward Autumn. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” She reached out to embrace her friend.

  Autumn hugged her back. “At least I have him back now. I can say goodbye.”

  “Come on,” said Peter to Blake. “Let’s get you out of the truck.”

  Blake reached out to Peter, to allow himself to be helped into the chair, but as he did so, the world changed. His sight sharpened, colors growing more vivid, the definition of every chip of gravel on the ground standing out to him. His ears became sensitized, allowing him to hear the heartbeat of each person around him. His nostrils flared as scents of the forest surrounding them assaulted his olfactory glands, combined with the acrid oil from the old truck he still sat in.

  And then it was gone.

  Everything went back to normal.

  “You okay, Cuz?” asked Chogan, staring at him with a frown.

  Blake shook his head briefly, and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Just had a moment, that’s all.”

  He reached out to take hold of Peter’s still outstretched hand ...

  A muscle in his thigh twitched.

  Blake froze, his breath held. He dared to look down at his leg. He had felt that! Felt it as though someone had just applied a taser to his thigh. He stared down, willing his leg muscle to do the same thing again.

  Come on. Come on.

  Nothing happened.

  Autumn moved into the truck’s open doorway. “Blake, what’s wrong?”

  He gave his head a slight shake again. “Nothing. I’m imagining things.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked him, worriedly.

  “Sure, I’m sure.” Autumn had enough to worry about. She didn’t need to add him losing his mind to her problems. “Help me out of here.”

  With Autumn and Peter’s help, they lifted him out of the truck and placed him back in the wheelchair.

  BROUGHT OUT BY their return, the rest of the homestead’s current inhabitants came out onto the porch to see what was going on. Autumn turned her attention from Blake to see the small group of paranormals appear. With them was Rhys.

  Chogan turned and pointed at the big man. “Tell us where Vivian is!”

  Rhys startled back. “I don’t know. She was supposed to be here.”

  “Are you here spying on us? Have you been reporting back to her?”

  He lifted both hands. “No, no, I swear.”

  “Chogan,” warned Angie, who stood right behind Daisy and Rhys. “We’ve been with him the whole time he’s been here. He wouldn’t have had time to go off and visit Vivian somewhere and come back here. We’d have noticed.”

  Chogan shook his head, stalking toward Rhys. “No, he must have gotten word to her somehow. She’s here, and that son-of-a-bitch knows where.”

  “I don’t!” Rhys cried. “I already—”

  But he didn’t get a chance to finish. Chogan’s fist connected with the other man’s face and his head rocked backward, blood exploding from his nose. Those around him gave shouts of shock and dismay, and moved back to avoid the blood and violence.

  Autumn left Blake’s side and ran toward the porch. Chogan was on top of Rhys now, his fist pulled back to hit him in the face, again and again. The sound of wet meat slapping and bones crunching turned her stomach. Daisy had controlled Rhys’ emotions. He couldn’t have been the one to tell Vivian what had happened, and the location of A.J.’s body, if someone even had told her. She might have simply been watching the house, and followed Wenona and Lakota when they went to bury Madison’s ex’s body.

  As much as she wanted to see Rhys punished for what had happened to Blake, and for his involvement with Vivian, she needed this to stop. She had her own plans about what needed to be done, and mindless violence didn’t come into them. Well-orchestrated violence, however, now that was a different matter.

  “Chogan,” she said, her voice stern. “You need to stop.”

  But Chogan was caught up in the bloodlust, releasing his anger and hatred on the other man.

  Autumn looked toward Marcus. “Can you
make him stop?”

  Mia’s brother nodded. He turned to the two men on the floor and stared at them, his features frozen in concentration. Chogan lifted his arm back to get in another punch, and discovered he was unable to bring it down again. The arm trembled with his exertion as he fought against Marcus’ control. Losing the fight, Chogan flew backward, away from Rhys. He landed on the wooden porch, his backside skidding against the boards. Red was spattered all over his brown skin, his long, black hair matted with the other man’s blood.

  Chogan blinked in surprise and then the fight went out of him. His shoulders slumped, and he wiped an even bloodier hand across his face, making his bloodied mask even worse. “Ah, hell.”

  Autumn stood in front of him. “I told you, enough was enough.”

  Chogan just gave a brief nod.

  She glanced over at Rhys. The man gave a cough, fresh blood spraying from his mouth. She narrowed her eyes as he began to pushing himself to sitting. “He’ll live.”

  She didn’t have time for this. She needed to speak with Robert Carter.

  As though her thoughts had enticed him out, the older man emerged from the front door. His eyes flicked down at the bloodied mess of the two men. “Jesus Christ.”

  “You and I need to talk,” she said, ignoring his dismay.

  He stopped, his hand resting lightly on the porch railing. “I’m aware of that. I brought you to your friends, now it’s time to fulfill your end of the bargain.”

  She shook her head. “Not just yet. I have one more thing I need you to do for me.”

  “No, our deal was that I bring you to your friends, and then I take you to meet your mother.”

  Autumn steeled her jaw. “My father’s dead body is wrapped in tarp in the back of that truck. Shall we take him to meet my dear mother, too?”

  His face blanched. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, so am I.”

  “Autumn?” The sound of Mia’s shocked voice drew her attention.

  She turned, and her heart stopped in her chest.

  Her eyes locked on Blake as, slowly, he pushed himself up from his chair. She stared in amazement as he began to straighten, his legs taking his weight. His whole body trembled with the effort, but he stood up and lifted his eyes to hers.

  “Blake?” she said, her voice hushed in awe.

  He smiled and his whole face lit up. “My wolf is back, Autumn. I’m healing again.”

  Tears filled her eyes. She forgot all about Robert Carter and Vivian Winters, and rushed to his side. While she wanted to throw herself against his body and hold him tight, she could tell he was still wobbly, and didn’t want to cause him to lose balance. Instead, she slipped her arm around his waist for extra support and stood on tiptoes to kiss him. It was such a simple pleasure, to be able to kiss him while standing, his big, powerful body towering above hers once more.

  “I can’t believe it,” she said, as tears spilled from her eyes, hot salt coursing down her cheeks. “How has this happened?”

  “It worked. Lakota letting me enter the spirit world to connect with my wolf worked. It took time, that’s all. I’d expected it to work right away, but my spirit guide simply needed time to trust me again.”

  “This is wonderful. I’m so happy for you, Blake.”

  “Be happy for both of us.”

  The rest of the group created a circle around them. Lakota and Chogan both reached in to hug Blake, while Peter and the other shifters shook his hand and slapped him on the back.

  His body began to shake, and Autumn realized he was using every ounce of his strength to keep himself up.

  “It’s okay,” she said, helping him to lower himself back into the chair. “The muscles in your legs will be weak from lack of use.”

  He smiled at her, his expression happy but drained. “I know. It’s going to take some time, but my wolf is back. I’m a shifter again.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  AUTUMN SMOOTHED DOWN the front of her black skirt and adjusted the sleeves of the equally black shirt she wore. Her gaze cast over to the window, to the Chicago high rise buildings beyond. It felt strange being back in her apartment again, as though the walls, windows, and contents belonged to another woman.

  On her dining room table lay the gun Wenona had acquired especially for her—a small Smith and Wesson semi-automatic pistol. How strange to think that only a matter of weeks ago, she had never fired a weapon, and now she carried one as casually as she did her purse. Autumn placed the gun in the waistband of her skirt, and then pulled the smart, black suit jacket over the top.

  The funeral was in a little over an hour. Mixed emotions warred inside her. She wanted to say goodbye to her father, but at the same time she was filled with sadness that she’d have to do so. Though her friends had wanted to be around her during this difficult time, she’d requested for both Blake and Mia to give her this time alone. She’d see them all again at the funeral.

  Mia had taken Marcus to meet their parents again for the first time in more than ten years. Peter had also gone with them, so they’d been able to break the happy news to them all. A pregnancy test, as soon as they’d come back to the city, confirmed what they’d all suspected, and the couple couldn’t be happier. She wished she had been there for that reunion. Autumn cared for Mia’s parents. They’d practically raised her themselves, and she’d seen what Marcus’s disappearance had done to them. She imagined there had been a lot of happy tears, embraces, and questions in their house. She was happy for them, and for Mia’s bright and happy future.

  If things went as planned today, Autumn would at least be able to lay to rest some of her demons.

  Her doorbell buzzed.

  The cab she’d ordered was here.

  Autumn took a breath to settle her nerves, and then left the apartment and locked up. Would she ever see this place again?

  Within twenty minutes, the cab pulled up outside the big grey pillars and wrought iron gates of Resurrection Cemetery. Robert had pulled some strings to get her father a plot near the back of the big burial ground. The place was quiet, only a few mourners placing flowers on graves, but the chill in the air of approaching winter had kept casual walkers away.

  “I can drive you up to the plot, Miss,” said the driver, leaning back in his seat, as if that might make her hear him better.

  “No, thank you,” she said, giving her head a slight shake. “I’d prefer to walk.”

  She paid him, including a generous tip, and climbed from the cab.

  As she made her way through the cemetery, her eyes instinctively sought the names on the hundreds of light grey headstones, a cross carved into each one of them. The headstones were uniformly placed, interspaced only with the occasional tree, their outer branches relieving themselves of their red, orange and yellow leaves to reveal naked twigs. The path she followed through their center was smooth and grey, the grass bordering each side neatly kept. Melancholy stone statues—mothers with children, angels with their wings wrapped around their bodies, religious images of men with their hands outstretched—all seemed to watch Autumn as she passed by.

  As she moved deeper into the grounds, she saw the small gathering of people standing around an open plot. A hearse containing her father’s coffin sat in the back, and she suddenly found herself short of breath and shaking. She had to do this. She had to be brave.

  Everyone turned as she approached—Blake, now leaning on a walking stick for support. Though he was vastly improved, the atrophied muscles still needed to be built up. Mia stood with her hand resting against her stomach, Peter beside her, his arm protectively around her waist. Chogan, Marcus, Daisy, and Angie, even Robert had attended. Sahale and Tocho had both returned to the reservation—they’d been away from their families for too long, as had Tala and Nadie. Lakota had remained with Wenona at the house.

  It was a small turnout, despite Autumn having done everything she could to get the word out by placing an obituary in the local paper. But it had been short notice, and an
yway, her father hadn’t exactly been a sociable man, and they didn’t have any other family.

  Robert had been able to get a death certificate to read that her father had died of natural causes. Even though he had been murdered, Autumn didn’t want to get the police involved. Any official investigation would interfere with her plans.

  She reached Blake, and he leaned down to her and placed a kiss on her cheek. It was amazing to see him standing again, and she felt so thankful that he’d had the opportunity to heal.

  He reached out to take her hand. “How are you doing?”

  She gave a brave smile. “I’m okay. I just want this to be over.”

  A priest stood in his cassocks at the head of the open grave. “It’s time,” he said.

  Chogan, Peter, Marcus, and Robert all acted as pallbearers, pulling the casket from the car. A set of bands would allow the casket to be slowly lowered into the earth. They placed the box on the bands, and then took the weight as it was suspended above the hole in the ground.

  The priest began. “We gather here today to celebrate the life of John Anderson, who has now returned to his home with Our God, The Father.”

  Autumn tuned out, unable to concentrate on what the priest was saying, instead focusing on the box being lowered into the dirt hole.

  “Would you like to say anything?” the priest asked her gently.

  Autumn pressed her lips together and shook her head.

  “Let us go in peace to live out the word of God.” He lowered his head for a moment, eyes closed, and the mourners did the same out of respect. The priest lifted his head and snapped the Bible shut. “I’ll give you some time to mourn.”

  “Thank you.”

  She waited until he had walked away, and then bent and lifted a handful of dirt, and threw it. The clods thumped down onto the wood, and she imagined how terrible it would be to hear that sound if you were the one inside the box.

  Movement came from all around.

  Her fellow mourners tensed, but Autumn forced herself to stay calm. She reached around to her back, her fingertips resting against the butt of her weapon.