by Kristie Cook
It made sense. It would be more believable if they appeared sick before they appeared dead. “I’m scared, Jonathan.”
“I’ve been put under before. It’s just like falling asleep.”
“What if we never wake up?”
“Did you know that Shula has the equivalent of a real medical degree? I had no idea there was so much modern technology inside Sanctuary Mountain.”
“Shula hasn’t been allowed inside Sanctuary Mountain since she joined us on the surface.”
“They can’t take away her knowledge. Reuben assured me that Shula will be able to mix and measure the right dose of anesthetic for each of us.”
“I don’t trust her. She wanted me to mate with Eli.”
“I don’t trust her either. Reuben agreed to watch her mix and measure everything. Eli and I are getting the same dose.”
“Is Eli going with us?”
“No, it’s just a precaution, to be certain Shula doesn’t try to knock me off.”
River smiled for the first time in days. “That was clever.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
Jonathan growled quietly and rolled on top of River. He nipped her neck but didn’t break the skin. “Show a little respect, woman.”
River giggled. “Woman?”
“I’m practicing my role as the legendary son of Ephraim.”
River’s mood plummeted. “If it’s only a ‘role,’ you’ll never survive.”
“Seriously, River. I’m a trained soldier.”
“Have you ever led an army?”
“No, but—”
“How’re your archery skills?”
“Stop it. I need you to believe in me.”
“You need to believe in yourself. You need to know that you truly are the son of Ephraim.”
“Then tell me the big secret about merging. Reuben said once that happens, I’ll be converted.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I just can’t.” River’s wolf squeezed her throat every time she thought of telling Jonathan about shifting. “It’s frustrating me, too.”
“Yeah, right.”
River cupped Jonathan’s cheeks in her hands. “I don’t want to waste one second of our remaining time arguing.”
Jonathan smirked at her. “How do you want to waste our remaining time?”
“You could teach me a little more about the different bases of mating.”
River smiled when Jonathan’s heart skipped a beat. She loved the benefits of her enhanced hearing. She sat up. “Let me have your pillowcase.”
“What?”
“I’m going to hide it until after the omegas purify my room; then take it with me to your father’s house.”
“Why?”
River’s cheeks warmed. “So I’ll have your scent while we’re apart.”
“Can I take your pillowcase with me?”
“They’ll notice if more than one is missing.” River pulled her tunic off and handed it to Jonathan. “Take this instead.”
Instead of ogling her bare breasts, Jonathan brought River’s tunic to his face, closed his eyes and inhaled. He sighed with obvious pleasure. “Thank you.”
“If that doesn’t prove you’re one of us, I don’t know what would.”
Jonathan
By the third day, Jonathan was no longer able to crawl to the bathroom. If it weren’t the only one in the house, he would have just slept on the floor in front of the drain under the sink. He hugged the wooden bucket to his chest and dry heaved for what felt like the thousandth time.
Shula squatted down next to his bed. She slipped her arm behind his neck and pressed the lip of a glass bottle to his mouth. “This will stop the vomiting.”
Jonathan took a tiny sip. She was right. His nausea disappeared immediately, but three days of vomiting left him as weak as a newborn baby.
“And this,” Shula pulled another vial out of her pocket, “will make you sleep.”
“How much do I drink?”
“All of it.”
It smelled like vinegar. “I’d like to see River before I go to sleep.”
“You’re supposed to be on your deathbed. Now drink.”
Jonathan slammed the potion like a shot of tequila. It burned going down, but whatever Shula had given him to ease his nausea, was still working. He couldn’t puke if he wanted to. “Will this last until after we’re out of the mine?”
Shula slid her arm out from behind Jonathan’s neck then leaned over and kissed his forehead. A hot tear splashed onto his cheek. It wasn’t his.
“I’m so sorry, Jonathan. But I won’t let another woman’s son steal Eli’s place in history.”
Sorry? Jonathan stuck his fingers down his throat. His gag reflex was gone. “I’m not going to wake up, am I?”
“Forgive me.”
River
When River woke up in her own bed, she knew something was horribly wrong. She tried to sit up, but her body refused to cooperate. She couldn’t even lift her hands. Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak. “Jonathan?”
Gabriel’s head seemed to appear from nowhere. “River?”
“Where’s Jonathan?”
Gabriel buried his face in River’s pillow and sobbed. The hair on the top of his head brushed her cheek. It took a tremendous effort, but she managed to roll her head to the other side, away from him. She refused to think about why she was in her own room or why Gabriel was crying or why Jonathan wasn’t lying next to her.
“I’m so sorry.” Gabriel brushed the hair off River’s brow.
“Don’t touch me.” She knew he was only trying to comfort her, but it should be Jonathan’s fingers on her face. Jonathan’s scent in her nose. Jonathan’s voice in her ears. Not Gabriel’s. “Please leave me alone.”
Gabriel left, but he didn’t leave her alone. River barely had time to blink before Shula arrived with a mug of broth.
“Go away.”
“Stop acting like you’re the only one that’s ever lost a mate.”
Shula’s words attacked the fragile shield of denial River held in front of her heart. Jonathan was gone. But that didn’t mean he was dead. River clung to that tiny shard of hope even though its jagged edge sliced her to the core. “What happened?”
“He didn’t make it.”
“What do you mean he didn’t make it?”
“He died, River.”
“NO!” She pressed her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. But her sense of hearing was too acute to block out the words.
“I misjudged how much sleeping potion to give him. He never woke up.”
“It’s not true. You’re lying!”
“You need to drink this.” Shula slid her hand behind River’s neck and brought the steaming mug of broth to her mouth.
River used what little energy she had and shoved the mug away, sloshing the steaming broth onto Shula’s hand.
She hissed in pain then stomped out of the room. She returned a few minutes later with a green bottle in her hand.
“I’m not drinking any more of your poison.” River clamped her jaw shut.
“If you insist on acting like a spoiled child, I’ll treat you like one.” Shula climbed into bed behind River and clamped her knees around her head like a vice. She held the bottle in one hand and pinched River’s nose shut with the other.
River’s lungs screamed for air. Her heart raced in a futile effort to deliver increasingly lower levels of oxygen to her starving cells. But she refused to open her mouth. Her vision blurred then went grey around the edges before she passed out.
River’s traitorous lungs only managed to gulp one mouthful of air before Shula poured her wicked brew down River’s throat and clamped her jaw shut. She choked, gagged and spewed a good portion of it out her nose, but in the end she had to swallow.
“You’re just making it harder on yourself. You might as well cooperate, since I’m not going t
o stop until I’m sure you’ve taken the full dose.” River continued to fight until she couldn’t remember what she was fighting for. The room spun.
“Are you ready to drink some broth now?”
River could barely keep her eyes open. Her mind was in a fog but she knew she didn’t want any damn broth.
“What are you doing, Shula?” Reuben sounded angry. River hoped he wasn’t mad at her. “I told you, no drugs.”
“She purged for three days. Add the two days she’s been asleep … do the math, Reuben. If she doesn’t at least drink something soon, she’ll die.”
“Get out.”
Shula slammed the door as she left.
Reuben sat on the edge of River’s bed and stared at his hands. He looked broken. That, more than anything else, confirmed her worst fears. “It’s true?”
Reuben nodded.
How could the almighty Alpha let this happen? What about the prophecy? Was none of it true?
“Will you drink a little broth? For me?”
River would fight Shula all day and all night but she couldn’t deny Reuben’s gentle request. She pressed both hands against her heart and drew her knees to her chest. “It hurts so much.”
Reuben scooped her up and carried her to the kitchen. He held her in his lap like an infant and spoon fed her half a cup of broth.
“I can’t drink any more. I’ll get sick.”
“It’s alright. You did good.” Reuben stood up with River still in his arms. But instead of taking her back to her own bed; he carried her to Gabriel and Jonathan’s room.
River buried her face in Reuben’s shoulder. She couldn’t bear the sight of Jonathan’s pristine bed. The omegas had already purified this room. His scent was completely obliterated. “No, Reuben. I can’t.”
Reuben laid her next to Gabriel, who wept, even as he slept.
“He lost his best friend. Maybe you can comfort each other.”
Jonathan
Jonathan woke up with the worst hangover of his life. He recognized the smell and the sounds immediately. It was more intense than he remembered. Hospital.
He opened his eyes. The room was dim; but what light there was shot a bolt of agony through his brain like an icepick. Jonathan covered his eyes with his left forearm and stretched out his hand, searching for River.
A pair of thin, dry hands enveloped Jonathan’s. “You’re alright, son.”
“Dad?” Jonathan lifted his forearm and blinked, forcing his eyelids open, just a crack. He barely recognized the fragile old man. Franklin’s death had been hard on everyone, but it took a visible toll on Dad, aging him ten years. Turning his charcoal hair to salt and pepper grey. Deepening the lines around his eyes and mouth. Rounding his shoulders.
Jonathan had only been gone a few months, but Dad had aged at least twenty years.
His hair was now completely white, all salt, no pepper. Skin hung from his face and neck in loose folds. Purple bags drooped below his bloodshot eyes.
Dad rocked forward and pressed Jonathan’s hand against his tear-stained cheek. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
Jonathan struggled to sit up, but he was too weak. His voice cracked. “I missed you.”
“I never gave up.” Dad smiled through his tears. “Somehow, I always knew I’d see you again.”
The squeak of rubber-soled shoes on linoleum was the only warning Jonathan got before a doctor and two nurses descended on him and kicked Dad out of the room.
Anxiety dampened Jonathan’s joy. “I came with three other people: a fifteen-year-old boy, a four-year-old boy and a girl, River. Have you seen them?”
The doc shook his head. “I met the young man that rescued you, but he was at least twenty. And there was no one else with him.”
“They have to be here. They ate the same berries that made me sick.” Jonathan decided to stick to the cover story Reuben had given him until he figured out what was going on.
“No other poisoning victims were admitted.”
Jonathan’s heart raced. The monitor next to his bed beeped faster. He didn’t want a sedative. “My heart rate’s up because I’m worried about my friends and my girlfriend.”
“Mm-hmm.” The doctor continued his examination while the nurses checked the various machines attached to Jonathan’s body.
As soon as they all left, Dad pulled a folded envelope out of his front pocket. “Eli said to give this to you when you woke up.”
Eli? A cold sweat broke out across Jonathan’s brow as he pinned the envelope against his stomach with his left wrist and tore it open. Reuben was supposed to guide them through the mines and bring them to Red Cliff, not Eli.
A note and a check fell out of the envelope when Jonathan shook it. The check was for fifty-thousand dollars; signed by Charles McKnight and made out to Eli Smith. Jonathan handed the check to Dad then unfolded the note.
Don’t tell anyone and don’t come back. Your life was spared this time. It won’t happen again.
Fuck that. Jonathan crushed the note in his fist. His heart monitor beeped faster until it topped out into a high-pitched alarm.
He dropped the note in his lap and grabbed Dad’s wrist. “No more meds. I want out of here.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, son.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Four days.”
“Shit!” Jonathan gripped the IV needle between his teeth, but before he could yank it out, Dad grabbed his hand and the back of his head.
“At least let the nurse remove it so you don’t get an infection. You won’t do your mate any good if you’re dead.”
Jonathan released the needle. “Mate?”
“That’s what River is to you, right? Your mate?”
“How did you know?”
Dad sighed, but a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Do you remember the photograph you found in the basement?”
“The one that pissed off Mom?” The one Dad claimed was of his first wife.
Dad nodded as he pulled a laminated photo out of his wallet.
“Holy shit. That’s Shula.” All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
Dad’s eyes filled with tears as a grin spread across his face. “You met her?”
Jonathan didn’t want to break Dad’s heart and tell him the love of his life tried to murder his only living son. “Shit, shit, shit!”
“Jonathan, please.”
“Eli’s my brother.”
Find Charlotte at …
WEBSITE
Runes
by
Ednah Walters
THE MAILBOX
“So unfair. My parents decided to limit my computer time again,” Cora griped and rolled her eyes into the webcam. “But as usual, my best friend Raine has my back, so here I am with the next Hottie of the Week. Before I can give you his stats, I need a break, so I’ll be back in a few.” She pressed pause on the webcam, swiveled the chair around, and faced me. “Thank you. I’m starving.”
I threw her a bag of potato chips, which she snatched in mid-air. Keeping the door between us, I dangled a can of soda her way.
“Come on. I’m not going to ambush you,” Cora protested.
“Liar. Just remember, I’ll unfriend you on every social network if you do it again, Cora Jemison,” I threatened.
Cora pouted. “You’re never going let me forget that, are you? One lapse in judgment, Raine. One, and I’m labeled a liar for the rest of my life.”
“Just until we finish high school. Lucky for you, we’ve got less than two years to go.” Melodramatic was Cora’s middle name, which made her the perfect video blogger. I, on the other hand, hated seeing my face on video hosting websites, something she tended to forget when she got excited. “So, when will you be done? We have swimming, and I need to get online, too.”
“Ten minutes, but I’m skipping today. Keith and I are going to watch our guys crush the Cougars. Go-oh, Trojans.” She pumped her fist in the air. “Come with us, Raine. Please
… please? You can help me choose my next victim for the vlog.”
“I can’t. I have an AP English report to write.”
“Another one? That’s, like, what? One every week? I knew sour-faced Quibble would be tough when he e-mailed you guys a summer reading list.” She shuddered. “You should have dropped his class when you had chance.”
“Why? I enjoy it.” Cora made a face, and I knew what she was thinking. I needed a life outside of books. She said it often enough, as though swimming and playing an oboe in the band didn’t count. I’d rather read than cheer cocky, idolized football players any day. Performing in the pep band during home games was enough contribution to the school spirit as far as I was concerned.
“Fine, stay at home with your boring books, but keep your phone with you,” she ordered. “I’ll update you during the game.” She snatched the drink from my hand, opened it, and took a swig. “Thanks.” She swiveled and rolled the chair back to my computer desk and turned on the webcam. “Okay, Hottie of the Week is in my Biology class. He’s five-eleven, masculine without being buff. Don’t ask how I know. A girl is allowed to keep some secrets, right?” She giggled and twirled a lock of blonde hair. “He’s a member of the lacrosse team and has wavy Chex Mix hair, which is longer than I usually like on a guy, but he rocks it. Don’t you just love that term? Chex Mix. Better than dirty blond, right? I stole that from Raine.”
I closed the door and shook my head. Poor guy. By Wednesday, every girl in school would be speculating about his identity and his relationship with Cora, not to mention leaving snarky comments on her video blog. She thrived on being naughty, but one day she would cross the line and piss someone off.
Cora and I had been tight since junior high when I found her crying in the girls’ locker room after P.E. She’d had such a hard time adjusting to public school after being homeschooled. Seeing her now, you’d never guess it. She was crazy popular, even though she didn’t hang out with the in-crowd.
Downstairs, I got comfortable on the couch with my copy of Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, tucked a pencil for scribbling notes behind my ear, and popped open my favorite spicy baked chips. Good thing Mr. Q had included the book on our summer reading list and I already read it once.
