by Lisa Ladew
There were several evenly-spaced bottles resting in the cooler, full of the same greenish liquid that Faith had shown them yesterday. From what Gemma could tell, Riot had already handled it. Shit. So now you’re just being a nosey nellie. Pack it up and leave.
Gemma closed the cooler and started to do the same with the closet door, but a box in the corner caught her eye, the words ‘Riot’s stuff’ scrawled on the side in angry block letters. Her mind caught at the memory of Riot at that first meeting, the morning after she’d arrived, cutting himself off when he told her that a box of his stuff had been waiting for him when he moved in.
Don’t you do it, Gemma, she thought, as her hand moved toward the box as if on autopilot. But footsteps on the stairs startled her, and Gemma snatched back her hand. She made it to the door just in time for Cora to see her coming out, a knowing look on the switch’s face.
Cora waved a hand at Gemma, cutting her off as she was about to explain. “Don’t bother. I heard you come down here.”
And as quickly as that, Gemma gave up. She felt her face crumble as she locked eyes with Cora. “What am I supposed to do? I have to stay because it’s my destiny, but I feel like he’d be happier if I wasn’t here.”
Cora looked at her with questioning eyes. “You want him to be happy?”
Gemma pulled her head back, surprised. Her expression must have spelled out “duh” because Cora moved right on, a sincere smile on her face. “Because I admit I haven’t known Riot long, but for the record, I never even saw him smile until you came along.”
What? Gemma’s eyes went wide and she looked at Cora. Tell me more.
And Cora kept on as if she’d heard the request. “Or talk much. Or help with The Cause more than his Instinct probably drove him to. All of that started after you got here. Shit, I expected him to be heartbound after your Prowl at the gold mine.”
Gemma blushed. She had told Goldie and Cora just enough about her Prowl with Riot for the two switches to cut eyes at each other and smile. But wait… what did she say? “Heartbound?”
Cora smiled gently, that dreamy look taking over her eyes like it did every time she spoke about her fiancé. “It’s when a shifter loves a switch so much that he kisses her with his heart on his lips, and after that he’s hers. Nobody else’s.”
Gemma felt her heart give a hitch. How do I get me one of those?
Cora eyes turned knowing. “And you know it’s a heartbound kiss because you feel it in your whole body, like an electrical current. And the shifter takes on his switch’s glow. Jameson said he felt my color moving all through his body. I even saw it, and that only happens for us at really powerful times.”
Gemma was rocked. What Cora described, it was just like what she’d felt yesterday, that last kiss before Riot had stormed out the door. She’d felt a warmth and a zinging through her entire body, and when she’d opened her eyes for just a second there had been a lime green glow all around her. Around both of them.
So was Riot… heartbound to her? Gemma’s brain tried to hold her back, keep her hopes from flying away by reminding herself that heartbound didn’t jive with the evidence she had, the way Riot couldn’t seem to get away from her fast enough.
What she really needed was proof. Undeniable proof. But for the first time she had hope, and that would have to be enough.
Cora snagged her attention with a hand wave. “But that’s not why I came looking for you. Something weird just happened to me in the kitchen.”
Gemma cocked an eyebrow, and Cora went on. “I was making a snack and talking to Resperanza.” She fiddled with her engagement ring, smiling sheepishly. “I do that sometimes, especially about foods I like. And this vision came to me of the ceremony site like you described, and a poem. I wrote it down.”
Gemma followed Cora down the hall. “A poem? And you remembered it?”
Cora jogged up to the next floor, tossing a confident wink over her shoulder. “You know languages. I know poetry.”
* * *
The next morning Gemma could barely drag herself out of bed, she had slept so miserably. No Riot. Again. Plus she, Goldie, and Cora had stayed up way late planning today’s ceremony. The only things missing were the location, but Flint was working on that, and of course Riot. Jameson had promised to start texting the AWOL shifter as soon as he woke up, try to convince him to come back.
It wasn’t a perfect plan, but all three switches agreed it was time. If there was even a chance they’d get a power boost from becoming an official coven, they had to take it, especially with an attack on the nest at the gold mine looming large. Aven had sent Jameson a bunch of photos and the two of them had talked strategy down in the barracks for hours last night while the switches were planning upstairs.
Gemma threw back the covers and made herself shower, though her feet and heart felt like dead weight attached to her body, slowing her usually speedy pace to a crawl.
Worst of all were the thoughts of Riot that had persisted through every waking moment, and even pursued Gemma into restless dreams. Where did he go? Who is he with? Is he really heartbound to me? She had wrestled all night with the questions.
She pulled on the only dress she had that felt special without being too formal, a white sundress made of layers of sheer white cotton, and left her closet to go downstairs. But before she could, Gemma’s eyes were drawn to the little copper tree that held her freshwater pearl earrings.
They complimented the dress perfectly, the little flecks of jade popping against the white fabric and Gemma’s black curls. She strapped her Resonant around her waist with a brown leather belt and admired the full effect in the mirror. Gemma’s eyes misted at how much of Riot she saw. This way he’s with me at the ceremony anyhow. She smirked at herself. Like it or not, ‘cause I’m pushy like that.
She felt a little fire burst into life inside her. Yeah. I'm pushy as hell. So why am I not just getting the proof I need my damn self? If she could confront Riot with evidence that he was in love with her, heartbound to her, tell him that she already knew what he couldn't seem to confess, then maybe he'd just admit it? She smiled at herself again, thinking of all the interviews she'd conducted, where just that one bit of proof was all it took to make her subject confess. Fuck yeah, I know how to do this.
Gemma took the steps at a run, practically flying towards the voices she could hear coming from the kitchen. Cora was sitting at the dining room table already, Jameson walking toward her with two plates piled high with food. He set one in front of Cora, then looked at his phone and scowled, glancing up when Gemma said good morning.
Don't ask, don't ask. But her face must have given her away, because Jameson shook his head and placed his phone on the table. “Nothing yet.”
Gemma smiled like it didn't matter, though she knew Cora had probably told J everything, and strode into the kitchen. Piles of fruit, hot biscuits, and sausage gravy greeted her, and Gemma immediately looked around for Flint. He found a place already, then came home to make his favorite?
Goldie caught Gemma's glance and shook her blonde head. “Not back yet. But don’t worry, he’ll find something.”
“Of course he will,” Gemma said as she fixed her plate, but her heart wasn’t in it. Despite her bravado she was sick with the idea that Riot might miss the chance to be here. That he could walk away from her so much more easily than she could from him. But you’re going to fix that. Undeniable proof, right?
Gemma finished her breakfast and went straight to Riot’s room, to the closet, and the box she’d almost snooped in yesterday. Come to mama, you sweet stash of secrets. As soon as she opened the box the cover of their high school yearbook caught her eye. Gemma gasped and snatched it out.
The book was heavy and made to look leatherbound, with gilded letters spelling out the name of the school and Riot’s graduating year. Gemma ran her fingers over the gold embossing and opened the cover as she sat on the edge of Riot’s neatly made bed.
Riot’s book didn’t have that many signature
s in it, not nearly as many as Gemma’s had, but that wasn’t a shocker. Kind of surprised he bothered with a yearbook at all. But it was his last year, she reasoned. And the signatures he did have were either from his buddies and full of juvenile jokes, or they were little notes from girls full of heart-dotted-i’s, telling Riot they’d always known what a sweetheart he was. Somehow it made Gemma happy, not jealous, to know that others had seen what she had known for certain was there.
Gemma flipped to her own picture, in the junior class section, and gasped. Someone - Riot? - had sketched two lines around her headshot, filling the space between them with a black and white checkerboard pattern. She traced the little black boxes with her fingers, remembering the same pattern on warm, firm flesh. The one on Riot’s arm.
The investigator in her took over, mitigating the hope that wanted to grow in Gemma’s heart. Maybe it is the same pattern… so what?
She used her thumb to fan to the back of the book, scanning for clues. A piece of paper folded and tucked between pages caught Gemma’s eye and she stopped, turned back until she found it. It was a piece of college-ruled notebook paper, brown with age and water damage. Gemma gently unfolded the paper, little brown flecks of dried-up something - dirt? - falling to her lap as the crisp paper crinkled in her hands.
It took her a moment to realize what she was looking at, the handwriting on the paper was so faded. But then she recognized it. Intimately. And all at once the memory that had been chased away by the shock of Riot’s thoughts in Gemma’s head, came slamming back into her consciousness with all the grace of a sledgehammer.
Riot hadn’t just saved her once.
Chapter 32 - Bad Dog
The paper Gemma held was a series of notations: the number of a test tube, followed by the location where the sample it contained had been taken. The page was half-full, the last entry ending in the middle of a word. With a chill that shook her whole body, Gemma remembered the snarl that had frozen her hand.
It had been April of her junior year, and the Marine Biology class had taken an all-day field trip to the Croatan National Forest, about two hours away from Fayetteville, on the Atlantic Coast. The Forest was full of estuaries and bogs, and bordered by tidal rivers that created a unique marine environment. Gemma had been out of her head with excitement, even if it had meant being somewhat out in the wilderness. She’d been so caught up taking samples that she’d wandered away from the group, but with her speedy legs she wasn’t worried about catching up. She just needed to make this last note on her sample log…
But the snarl had caught her attention, sent a shiver right up Gemma’s spine that froze every muscle in her crouched body solid. The only thing she could move was her eyes. She’d glanced up from her paper and right into the eyes of a red wolf, only fifty feet away and looking at her like dinner.
Gemma had screamed before she could stop herself, hearing her shrill voice ring through the trees. And no answer. How far away was her group? Could they hear her? Would they get there in time? Gemma was locked in place, unable to tear her eyes from the predator facing her.
The red wolf was a species Gemma knew because it was unique to North Carolina, but she thought they lived further north. Obviously not, genius. Or maybe this one is on a field trip, too. Whatever the explanation, this wolf wasn’t backing down. Its forelegs were splayed wide, head low and hackles up, teeth bared in an aggressive snarl.
Gemma had felt her fear taking over, her mind beginning to panic and her body telling her to run even though it was the worst possible plan. And anyway, she couldn’t move. She was going to be wolf food, and there was nothing she could do about it.
The wolf had made its move, coming toward Gemma at a dead run with its body low and tail straight out behind. She could remember thinking how blood-red the wolf’s gums were next to the white of its teeth as they aimed for her throat, and its feet left the ground in a final lunge.
But Gemma had been knocked aside, into the muddy ground by another animal. She’d had the fleeing impression of tan, silky fur brushing her cheek and shoulder as she’d fallen, her sampling supplies and notes going flying. Before she’d been able to push herself up and look, the two animals had been gone. She had never gotten a good look at whatever had rescued her. Was it Riot?
Her heart thudded in her chest as Gemma sat on Riot’s bed in the basement, still holding the sample log in her trembling hand. It hadn’t been a minute after the attack before the rest of Gemma’s class had found her, drawn by her scream, and helped her back to the bus. She knew Riot hadn’t been around because she had looked for him, had been glad he wasn’t there to see her like that, all shaken to pieces.
But this paper changed things. If he had saved her… why hadn’t he said so? And why keep a dirty, waterlogged piece of paper that he could barely read the writing on? Because it was hers? Why else would he have it?
Still not enough. Gemma slapped the yearbook closed and stood, walking to the closet and pulling back the flaps on the box to see what else she could find.
Gemma froze in place.
Her eyes were trying to send a message, but her brain wouldn’t receive it. What she was seeing wasn’t possible. All the times you’ve thought that in the last week, and you still haven’t figured out it's all new rules now? But Gemma couldn’t deal with even that small corner of logic. She was just trying to breathe.
Because laying right there, on top of all of Riot’s stuff, was the pearl-and-jade necklace that Shain had ripped from Gemma’s neck twelve years ago, on the first and only night she’d ever worn it, hoping the luck her grandmother had promised her would hold true. Instead it had been the worst night of her life, and Gemma had never seen Riot or her necklace again.
But Riot had found it and kept it.
That proof enough for you? He shows up here after a dozen years, and Resperanza brings in a box holding all this? Evidence of every connection the two of you have? At the very least, it was way too much to be a coincidence.
Add the serendipitous way they’d met in the forest, the knife that turned out to be her Resonant, the way Riot seemed to look at her like he wanted her close even as he kept her at arm’s length, and the connection grew stronger, more certain by the second.
Gemma said it to herself, to see how it sounded. He loves me. Maybe always has. It sounded wonderful.
Her heart was beating so hard Gemma swore she could feel her pulse in every cell of her body. Only one thing held her back. If it was true that Riot loved her, then why wasn't he here, standing next to her, giving her the best love she'd ever had from anyone, anywhere?
Maybe because you never told him that was how you felt, too, Gemma scolded herself. Maybe he didn’t want to be the one to step out on the ledge because he thought he had so much further to fall.
Gemma sat with the idea for a minute. If it was true, then she wasn’t the only one who needed proof. Riot needed it, too. Needed her to show him that she was standing on the ledge right next to him, holding his hand, ready to leap together.
Gemma fastened the necklace around her neck, felt the weight of the pearls and jade resting against her collarbone. She had her proof. Now all that was left was to give Riot his as soon as he came back.
In the meantime? She had a sisterhood to see to.
The door to the garage opened in front of Gemma as she walked down the hall, and before she could even get her hopes up that it was Riot, Flint burst in, breathing hard, sweat pouring off him.
Gemma ran to his side. “Are you okay?”
Flint bent over and put his hands on his thighs, pulling in lungfuls of air as he nodded. He gestured for Gemma to go up the stairs in front of him.
Goldie was out of her seat as soon as she saw her big bear. “Flint! What happened?”
Flint collapsed into a chair. “Fucker moved.”
Jameson and Cora came into the kitchen to see what all the hubbub was about, and J’s eyes lasered onto Flint’s. “Who moved?”
The big, brown-eyed shifter
shook his head, still breathing hard. “Not who. What. Craziest fucking thing.”
Cora wasn’t patient at the best of times, but pregnant she had zero chill. “What? Quit breathing and tell us!”
Flint huffed a laugh and grabbed a napkin to wipe his forehead. “I went out as my bear, looking for the spot Gemma found in the book. Spotted it, too, from up one side of the ravine. In a meadow by a big-ass boulder at a riverbend.”
He waved his hand in a growing circle. “It had the spiral, except instead of baby’s breath the whole meadow was pink flowers. And it smelled different, but also kind of the same. Like magic smells.”
Goldie had fixed Flint a plate of breakfast, and she set it in front of him as he went on. “By the time I got down there it was gone. Just disappeared. But I’d caught the scent and I could swear it was on the move. So… I chased it.”
Jameson was looking at Flint with a look of utter confusion on his face. “How do you chase a place?”
Flint grumbled back. “With difficulty. It jumped all over the forest, stopped in three other meadows all around Five Hills, all different colors, and then I just… lost it. Scent went cold.”
The big bear shifter stabbed his fork into his biscuits and gravy as Goldie scratched his back and spoke to him in her gentle way. “You’ll find it, Flint.” Gemma could swear she heard a purring sound as Flint closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.
Excitement over, Gemma wandered out of the kitchen and into the library, to get the Keeper’s Book. She had promised Cora and Goldie that she would write the poem Cora had - what? Downloaded? Like, directly into her brain? Anyway, Gemma was going to write it in the Keeper’s Book, to use during the ceremony. She retrieved the book from its podium by the window and turned, but something outside caught her eye.
Resperanza’s meadow was transformed. Where before there had been a rolling lawn of baby’s breath, now there was a clearing just twenty yards from the front door, a few small boulders and stumps ringing the edge. Gemma could see the spiral shape from the book in the center of the clearing, practically dancing with green sparkles of light. Magicks. Like the ones her sisters had taught her to use in the days since her last Undoing.
