My ears burn with embarrassment, and I stare at my hands. He caught me checking him out.
Missy shuffles to the table and scolds him again. “This is no laughing matter, young man. If you can’t be serious for five minutes, I’m going to ask you to leave.”
He points at me. “It’s her fault. Wren was making faces at me.”
“I was not!”
“Was too.”
She glares at him, her icy gaze causing him to squirm.
“I’ll just . . . be in my room.” He rises from the table and shuffles to the door, stopping to lightly punch me on the shoulder on his way out.
“You’ll have to excuse him,” Missy says. “He uses humor to mask his pain. He and Todd were very close.”
“So he’s not always so chipper?”
She pauses to think. “No . . . he is happy most of the time. He was quite a prankster when he was a child.”
“I remember.”
“He’s grown up a lot since he joined us here.” Missy takes a long drink from her cup. “Where were we? Oh yes, the beginning. Are you familiar with the Burning?” She says the last word with such distaste that I cringe.
“That’s when overuse of the Sense started causing natural disasters. Too much energy manipulation caused sparks in the atmosphere that started wildfires all over the East. We’re lucky they moved us all into the cities when they did so they could get the fires under control.”
She presses her lips into a hard line and stares at me as if she doesn’t believe me. The intensity of her gaze causes my palms to sweat, and the sick feeling in my stomach tells me I said something wrong. Her left eye twitches as she speaks. “That’s what they teach in school. I’m sorry your mother never taught you otherwise.”
I straighten my spine. “My mom—”
“I’m sure she had her reasons. It doesn’t matter now. What’s important is that you know the truth so you can make an informed decision on whether or not you want to go back to your old community. The Sense didn’t start those fires, Wren. Our people aren’t to blame. The government is.”
I blink a few times before I’m able to form words. “Are you saying the government started the wildfires?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“But . . . Why?”
“When the Sense was at its peak, the Enlightened Ones were becoming powerful again, regaining the wisdom of our ancestors. President Martin saw us as a threat to his pocketbook. We could heal people without drugs.”
I cross my arms over my chest. I don’t want to believe a word she’s saying, but the nagging little voice in the back of my mind is telling me to listen up. “But isn’t healing a good thing? My mom would never do it if it hurt people.”
“Of course she wouldn’t, dear. It was only bad to our beloved leader. Before he became president of the country, he was the CEO of the biggest pharmaceutical company in the nation. He’s still the majority shareholder. Healing without drugs means less income for the president.”
“You’re telling me the government destroyed half the country and crammed everyone into a few big cities so he could make more money?”
“Greed is a powerful motivator. So is fear. It took him a while to convince the rest of the country the Sense was evil. People were sympathetic to the Enlightened Ones. In some countries, our people are revered. But President Martin labeled us infected. We became feared. When the Exodus started—”
“Sorry to interrupt.” Liam leans casually in the doorway. He’s changed into clean clothes—jeans and a dark-green T-shirt—and his hair is washed, but it still hangs over the right side of his face, concealing most of his right eye. A single bead of water drips from his hair and splatters on the dusty stone floor. “I know you were getting to the good part, but it seems to me like we’ve got about thirty minutes until she . . .” He holds his hands up like claws and makes a snarling face. “Raaar . . . ya know?”
I shoot out of my chair, knocking over my water glass. “Already?” It can’t be happening again so soon. I still haven’t recovered from killing the deer. “Oh God. I’m sorry. I have to go.” I race to the door and push past Liam.
He grabs me by the wrist. “Now, just wait a minute. We kept Todd safe at night for quite a while. We can keep you safe too.”
I yank from his grasp. “No. I . . . I can’t control the wolf. I can’t stay here.”
“Yes, you can, dear. We’ll take care of you.” Missy shuffles toward us. “Go with Liam. He’ll take you to your room, and everything will be all right. I’ll finish the story in the morning, and tonight I’ll figure out a way to get you to your father. What’s his name?”
I look from Liam to Missy and back again. I’m still not 100 percent certain I can trust these people, but what else can I do? “Crane. His name’s Michael Crane.”
Missy’s gaze drops to the floor, and she clears her throat. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Go with Liam now.” She turns and cleans up the spilled water.
Her reaction is strange, and I want to ask her about it, but Liam grabs my wrist and pulls me out the doorway.
“C’mon.” He guides me farther into the village, and more people step out from their homes to stare at me. There must be at least thirty people living in this camp, and none of them appear happy to see me.
“They all hate me, don’t they? I killed their friend.”
Liam stops and puts his hands on my shoulders, gazing straight into my eyes. “You killed a wolf that was attacking your mom. You didn’t know it was Todd, did you?”
I shake my head.
“So it wasn’t your fault, was it? Who’s to blame?” He draws out the last words like a schoolteacher trying to get a student to figure out the answer on her own.
“Makkapitew,” I whisper, unable to hold his gaze.
“That’s right, ain’t it? You just need to remember that, or else the guilt will eat you up, okay?”
I nod, staring at the ground. “Okay. I’ll try.” I wish I could blame it all on the wolf, but I chose my actions that day. I’m just as responsible.
We continue walking until we reach another arched opening in the side of the mountain. “Your quarters, m’lady.” He bows and gestures for me to enter.
I step inside the room as Liam flips on a lamp. As my eyes adjust, it comes into view—a cage about six feet tall by four feet wide. It’s as long as it is tall, with metal bars on all sides. This isn’t my room for the night. It’s my prison.
“It’s made of lead. Makka can’t break out . . . long as it’s not a blood moon. Didn’t count on the power those bring . . . but you should be fine tonight.”
“It’s a cage.” My breathing quickens as the memories flash through my mind. A six-year-old girl sobbing inside a similar, though smaller confinement. The headaches, the nausea, the vomiting from the drugs being pumped into my system. My mom’s terrified screams from outside the door: “Don’t hurt my baby!”
“It’s just for the night. I promise I’ll let you out once you’re you again.”
I shake my head, inching my way toward the door. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You go inside, I lock the door, and I let you out in the morning. It’s easy, ain’t it?” He swings the door open and motions for me to go inside.
“No . . . No, I won’t!” I turn on my heel and sprint out of the room.
“Hey, wait!” he yells, but I don’t turn around. I run through the community, past the villagers, their shouts a fading blur of noise, as I try to figure out what to do. I can’t go in that cage. I’ll have a heart attack if I do. I have to get away. Get as far away from people as I can. I slide off the edge of the plateau, tumbling head over heels to the bottom. As soon as I hit the grass, I’m up and sprinting into the forest. I run and run until my lungs will explode if I heave in another breath, until the sun dips behind the mountain, saying goodbye to Wren, and the moon rises to welcome the wolf.
Chapter Eleven
Wren
Makkapitew prowl
s the forest, a hatred burning so strong in his heart I’m almost consumed with it myself. I search his soul, trying to sense his thoughts, but if he has any, they aren’t readable. What could make an animal so angry?
We’re four miles away from the village, and I can sense his hesitation. He’s trying to decide whether to go back to the camp or to the city. Neither choice is a good one, but the city is better protected, so I try to convince him to head there. Go to the city. I focus my thoughts. It must confuse him, having another voice in his head, because he sulks in circles for a while before turning toward the city. Now I just hope we pass an animal on our way. I can feel his mouth salivating, the urge to kill growing stronger as time passes.
He slinks through the trees, his senses heightened, listening for prey, scanning the brush for movement. A sound, so minute I’d never have heard it with my human ears. A twig snaps when someone steps on it. A rustle. Footsteps. Voices.
Oh no. The enforcers are hunting me. Please, Makkapitew. Please turn around. Run away!
The wolf pauses, confused. But his instincts are stronger than my voice, and now he’s on the hunt too.
Please, no! But it’s no use. He’s sighted his prey, and there’s nothing I can do but hope they’re fast runners.
He crouches low to the ground, extending his muscular legs silently as he creeps toward them. They haven’t noticed his presence, and the thrill of surprise rushes through his massive body, exciting every nerve. A low growl resonates from his belly as he prepares to pounce. He shifts his weight to his haunches, energy coiling in his muscles, and launches into the group.
With a snarl, he swipes his massive paw at an enforcer, ripping through clothing and flesh. The soldier goes down. The other men scatter, shouting and running in different directions as they fumble with their rifles. A pistol fires, and I feel the bullet tear through the wolf’s shoulder, searing heat slicing through skin and muscle. Makkapitew howls and stumbles away from the soldier, but he doesn’t retreat.
“Tranqs only, man! Don’t kill it!” Seth’s voice echoes through the night as he runs to the aid of the injured man. The wolf’s mouth waters in anticipation. I can feel him trying to decide which man to take down. Seth is much bigger than the injured soldier—more fun to kill. Please don’t hurt Seth, I beg the wolf. If you have to kill someone, please don’t let it be Seth.
My voice baffles Makkapitew. He looks from Seth to the injured man and back to Seth. He doesn’t understand where his indecision is coming from. He takes a step toward Seth.
Please not him.
The wolf stops. Seth raises his gun. His arms shake, throwing off his aim, and his first shot flies over Makka’s head. The wolf growls.
Please don’t hurt him.
Although Makka is in pain, the thrill of the kill is overpowering. He takes one last look at Seth—the bigger trophy—exhales sharply and leaps at the other man. All I can do is watch in horror through his eyes as he sinks his massive teeth into flesh. With a jerk of his powerful head, he breaks the man’s neck.
I can taste the blood on his tongue. I feel the elation he feels, and it sickens me. Seth fires his rifle again, and a dart pierces the wolf’s thigh. Sluggish heat spreads from the needle, a compulsory sleep creeping through his body. Makka wails, realizing he only has minutes before his body shuts down.
Reluctantly, he leaves his victim and limps toward the village. The poison spreads quickly, rendering his right leg useless, and he drags it behind him. The other enforcers give chase, though they seem confused as to which way he ran. Their confusion buys us precious time, but there’s no way we can outrun them. We have to hide, but where?
Of course! Liam’s hole under the tree. But will the wolf’s body fit? It’s worth a try if I can get him to listen to me. Focusing on the hiding spot, I expand my consciousness and try to connect with his brain. I was able to influence him before, so there must be a way. In his drugged state, his senses are lax, and I feel a way into his mind. I project the image of the location, and he seems to understand.
His body grows heavy; it’s like dragging weights through mud, but he has to make it to the hole. Trudging toward the tree, he spots the camouflaged door and tries to push it aside with his muzzle. He snorts in frustration as the wood refuses to budge. It’s a long shot, but I try to open myself up to him, to allow him to feel my Sense, my telekinetic power. The sound of footsteps pricks in his ears, and he swings his head around to face the sound. Focus, Makkapitew. Please.
He exhales and returns his attention to the door. We can do this. I feel the familiar hum of energy buzzing in the wolf’s core, building the power necessary to move the door. With a flick of his head, he makes the door slide to the left, revealing the tight space that is our last hope for freedom.
He understands what I’m asking him to do. Rump first, he shimmies into the hole. The packed-dirt walls squeeze into him, and I feel the shooting sharpness of his injured shoulder as it drags against a tree root. He just fits. Without hesitation, he uses my Sense to slide the door shut, enclosing us in darkness as the tranquilizer takes full effect.
Chapter Twelve
Wren
My mouth is gritty. A sickening metallic taste makes my stomach turn, and the scent of stale dirt doesn’t help. I’m afraid to open my eyes, afraid my memories of last night are more than a dream. But they have to be a dream.
I pry open my eyes—they’re crusted shut with something I don’t want to think about—and I’m greeted with darkness. The earthy smell wasn’t my imagination. I’m surrounded by dirt. So much for it all being a dream. My joints ache from sleeping balled up in the fetal position, but at least they’re my human joints and not wolf haunches. I clamber to my feet and try to open the door, but pain shoots through my shoulder. I can’t raise my right arm. I touch the tender spot, and my hand comes away caked in semi-dried blood. The gunshot. Makkapitew was injured last night, and I get to deal with it today.
I use my mind to fling open the door. I hate using the Sense, but what choice do I have? I pull myself out of the hole with my left arm. In the daylight, I can see the wound; the bullet went clear through my shoulder. I’m surprised I didn’t bleed to death. I’m also surprised my clothes seem to survive the transformation each time, but I don’t have time to ponder the way magic works now. I need to find Liam.
Running away was a huge mistake . . . a deadly mistake. I have to make it right somehow. My mom, Todd, and the enforcer—I have the blood of three people on my hands now.
I stumble toward the camp. The tranquilizer still hasn’t completely worn off, and I don’t have good control of my limbs. My movements are stiff. Uncoordinated. Like a marionette in a child’s hands. Every tree in this cursed forest looks the same, and I find myself wandering in circles for ages. Finally, by some miracle, I get on the right path and make it to the mountain. By the time I clamber my way up to the plateau, my energy is spent, and I collapse at the village entrance.
Tiny footsteps pitter toward me, and a little girl, no more than five years old, stoops down in front of me. “Are you okay, lady? You’re dirty.” Her blurry image reveals bare feet, a stained dress, and dirty-blonde ringlets framing big green eyes.
“Liam.” My throat feels like I swallowed a desert, and I have to force out the words. “Can you find him?”
“Liam!” Her scream pierces my skull like a dagger as she stands and runs toward the dwellings. “Liam, there’s a bloody lady on the ground out here!”
Wavy images of human forms appear around me, but I can’t see their faces through my headache. Their voices are a mumbled chatter. I can’t make out any of the words. Who are all these people? Where am I again? Finally, a familiar voice breaks through the crowd.
“I had a feeling you’d come back. Learned your lesson yet?” His arms wrap around my waist, lifting me to my feet. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside, and I’ll see what I can do to fix you.”
“You talk funny.”
He laughs. “Yeah, well, you talk serious. Fu
nny’s more fun, ain’t it?”
I giggle. “Ain’t it.” My legs slip out from under me.
“Whoa now.” Slipping his arm under my knees, he scoops me up, carries me into a room, and lays me on a bed.
“Hey, I don’t know you that well.” I try to sit up, but as soon as I’m upright, the room tilts on its side and goes dark.
Chapter Thirteen
Liam
Looking at Wren lying there on my bed, I can’t help but feel for her. It doesn’t take much for fear to chew you up and spit you back out.
“You have got to stop running away.” I know she can’t hear me, but it still needs to be said. Of course, it’s my fault she ran away in the first place. I should’ve offered her the chains instead of the cage. There won’t be another blood moon for months. Heck, it wasn’t even a full moon last night, so there’s no way Makka could’ve broken free again. It was my fault for underestimating the wolf’s power before, and it’s my fault for trying to put Wren in another cage.
I saw what she went through back when we were kids. Being locked up and drugged like that was terrible. She’s right, I didn’t experience it myself, but I have a pretty good idea what the ordeal was like. My dad made me watch her through the cell window every day after school.
She looked so tiny and helpless in her soiled clothes, crouched down like an animal, in a cage so small she couldn’t stand up even if she’d had the strength. Her flat black hair was matted with sweat and vomit, and her skin had taken on a sickly yellow tinge. She was only six years old, for crying out loud. Her little body couldn’t handle all the drugs they were pumping into her veins.
Trying to cure her. Yeah, right. My dad knew good and well there was no cure for the Sense, but he had orders to follow. That’s what enforcers do: they follow orders.
And now he thinks about me every day, and I’m supposed to feel something for the man? Screw that.
Soul Catchers Page 8
