by Bec McMaster
“Twenty-four,” she replied. “Why?”
“Figured we ought to get to know each other.” A small crooked smile curled over his mouth. “Considering we skipped the first date and all. Besides, you keep talking about not letting me go. What if I suddenly realize you snore like a warg, can’t cook, and have plans for thirteen children?”
“I know the important things,” she replied. “I know you'd risk anything to keep me safe, even your own life. I know no matter what happened to me, you'd come for me. You wouldn't give up on me. I know that, when life gets rough, you'd be there to hold my hand and take away all of my fears. The rest’s just trivial.”
“Humor me.”
She knew what he was doing. Trying to keep her mind off her pain. Riley took a deep breath. “I like to cook, and I’m good at it,” she said. “My daddy could only make beans and steak, and you get sick of that pretty quickly, so someone had to learn. A little girl like me, without a mother? Why, I had dozens of my mother’s friends clucking over me, showing me the best way to fry cornbread, or roast Gila. Used to drive me crazy.”
“What happened to your mother?”
It still hurt, though not as much as it had once. “She died when I was seven. Lost the baby in birth, and never recovered. Would have been a brother for me. Instead…” She shrugged, clenching her fists. She could never forget that night. The cries getting weaker, then finally stopping. The midwife coming out with a pale face and red-rimmed eyes. ‘I’m sorry, honey. I’ve got some bad news for you…’ And her father, locking himself away for days until he finally emerged, stinking of liquor.
“And you became your father’s son?” Wade’s words jerked her out of the memories.
Riley swallowed hard. “I was always my father’s son. Picked up my first shotgun when I was five. He taught me to drive when I was eight and butcher a cow when I was nine.”
“You can cook and kill. Handy skill-set.”
“So I’m passing the wife interview?” she asked teasingly, pushing away the memories of her mama’s loss.
Luc glanced at her sidelong. “Give a girl an inch, and she starts planning the wedding.”
Riley’s lungs caught. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” He smiled, staring straight ahead. “I’ll ask you one day. Don’t like the thought of other men thinking you’re still available.” Eyes narrowing. “McClain in particular.”
Riley had nothing to say to that. The road stretched out ahead, dusty and barren. “So, do you snore?” she asked quickly. “I’ve been too tired every night to hear.”
“I don’t snore. Sometimes I get hairy though.”
Despite herself, she breathed out a laugh. It was the first time he’d ever come close to joking about his curse.
The questions continued as they walked, and Riley found the distraction welcome. It was comfortable to talk to him, sharing things she’d never really talked about with anyone else. Some of his answers surprised her; he could cook, sew if necessary, and turn his hands to most things. He liked to gamble, didn’t drink, and preferred animals to humans. When he’d been a boy, he’d bred warg-hunting dogs with his father, and he enjoyed dancing to slow music, with a woman pressed tight against him. He liked making love even slower.
“So, am I passing the husband test?” he asked dryly, humor creasing the fine lines around his eyes.
Riley smiled as they turned a corner, the jeep coming into view. “I make your odds about even.”
A hand slapped her bottom, then Luc strode ahead. Riley’s laughter cut off as she realized he was scanning for danger. “Anything?”
“Nothing alive.” Still, he didn’t relax as they approached the jeep, keeping his body between her and any sign of danger.
He’d never be an easy man to live with, she thought as she watched him circle the vehicle. Some of her friends would struggle to accept his nature, and they’d never be able to live in a large settlement. But he’d protect her with his life, and he’d never expect her to be something she wasn’t.
Besides, she needed someone to argue with. Someone who challenged her to stand at his side, not just step in front of her to protect her. Someone who pushed her to be the woman she knew she could be, not just the type of woman he wanted.
“You passed the test,” Riley admitted, watching as he slid his hands under one side of the jeep, the muscles in his thighs bunching.
A quick glance from scorching blue eyes and then he ground his teeth and lifted, biceps straining. The jeep shuddered, metal groaning, and then it slowly lifted on its side as he tipped it over.
A cloud of dust swooshed out from underneath as it landed on all four wheels. The grill was dented, the front window smashed clean out. There was more rust on the panels than green paint, and the gun turret was painted with dried blood.
A body slumped over the wheel, flies buzzing. Luc’s lip curled and he yanked the door open, cutting the safety belt with his claws. The flies disappeared as he jumped into the back of the jeep and kicked the body out onto the ground at her feet.
“Any water?” she asked, wincing a little. Every part of her body ached.
“Got a canteen.” He rifled through a pack. “You’re not drinking it though. Not until I can get something fresh for you.”
Her mouth was so dry she almost didn’t care. Then she glanced down at the reiver, with his cracked lips. A leather aviator’s cap covered his hair, and his goggles cut into his swollen white flesh as he gaped at nothing.
“I’m not drinking it,” she agreed. Wouldn’t take them that long to find fresh water. Not with the dammed river below.
There were three packs in the back of the jeep. Wade held out a hand to help her up, then knelt down and rifled through them, discarding useless – or disgusting – items, and stockpiling the rest.
“You ever been up to Copperplate?” he asked.
“Once,” Riley admitted, sorting out the pile of ammo. “It’s the sort of thing we kids used to do, before the reivers started hitting the settlements hard. Sneak out, go up to Copperplate or out to the salt marshes, and race the jeeps, climb the hoodoos, drink applejack we’d filched from home. It was a while ago now."
Wade swiftly filled her in on the details he’d found while scouting. Riley was impressed, and commented on it. She’d never have expected him to be so organized, almost military proficient.
“Only smart bounty hunters survive out there on the Rim of the Great Divide,” he said with a shrug. “It’s a different world to this one.” A hard laugh. “Makes the Wastelands look like a kid’s playground. Lot of caves and caverns in the Great Divide. Maybe the meteor carved ‘em out, don’t know. Means there’s a lot of revenants, a lot of shadow-cats. Not that you ever see them. Just their tracks. My uncle taught me to hunt, and he didn’t suffer fools lightly. Used to be a Confederate frontline scout before he bailed. Tough as nails.”
She was curious. “And your parents?”
Wade’s expression softened. “My father was a rancher. Mom… She was a bit like Uncle Robert. Fleeing from something. She never said what, but you could see it in her eyes. Used to prowl the house at night. Never slept well. Hid under the bed during thunderstorms. My father passed when I was eight, so Uncle Robert mostly had the raising of me.”
“He taught you well, then.”
Wade’s hands hesitated on the pile. “He would have shot me, if I’d come home like this. So I didn’t. Knew he’d look after Abbie and Lily. Didn’t want to see that look on his face, you know?”
Riley knelt down, taking the full pack from him. “Sounds a lot like my daddy. I think he’d be proud of you though, Luc. Not everyone would have fought the way you have.”
“Maybe.” The answer was non-committal, expression locked down tight. “Think you can find the keys to this thing?”
There was no sign of them. “I can do better.”
“Riley Kincaid,” he tsked, as she climbed into the front seat and pulled the cover off the steering column, revealing the car'
s wires. “I thought you were a good girl.”
“Oh, I am. I'm good at a lot of things."
“That you are.” He slung the pair of packs into close reach behind the seats and shoved a shotgun into a pre-made holster that had been attached to the door. Grimly, he slid into the seat beside her. “Let’s do this.”
The realization of what was about to happen made her heart start pounding. “Nervous?” she asked, noting the stiff line of his shoulders as he stared toward the east.
“Scared.” His gaze cut to hers. “I’ve never had anything to lose since I turned warg. Don’t know whether that’s a blessin’ or not.”
Riley’s breath caught.
Looking down, she stripped the insulation from the battery wires and twisted them together. Then she carefully sparked the ignition wire against them. The jeep’s engine kicked, and a rumble started deep under the hood. Once more, jamming her foot down to rev the engine a couple of times, and it growled to life.
Slowly, Riley eased it into gear, the movement tearing through her ribs. The crash the day before had wrought damage to the jeep, but mostly it was superficial.
Kind of like her, she guessed. Battered, bruised, trembling with exhaustion, and fueled by determination.
“You got a plan?” she asked.
“Something along the lines of Black River,” he replied. “This can’t be a full frontal assault. I won’t risk Lily. Or you.”
“And if they don’t give us any choice?”
He cut her a sharp look. “Then I’ll make a deal. Myself for Lily. I won’t fight them, as long as they let you get away with her cleanly.”
The words hit Riley like a punch to the chest. “Son of a bitch,” she swore. “That’s the only reason you let me come, isn’t it?”
The look on his face was answer enough.
* * *
The mine was high in the Altera Mountains. Some said you could even see the edge of the Great Rift from the highest peak, if you had a pair of binoculars, but then those were rare in the settlements. A gun scope was the better alternative.
The last time she’d been here, she’d been all of fifteen, and reivers were barely a threat this far out. They’d moved in swiftly in the last few years, driven north by the slave-traders along the border of New Mérida, and possibly the abundance of reiver packs that supplied the slavers down south.
Wade guided her along an old canyon track that seemed more of a path to bighorn or the native goats out here than an actual road. Huge ruts made the bottom of the jeep scrape several times, and she was aching all over from the muscle needed to fight the vehicle in the direction she wanted. Finally, the wheels locked in a crevice and spun, spraying up sand and gravel behind them.
Riley took her foot off the gas and sighed. “I think this is as far as we go.”
For obvious reasons, they couldn’t take the main road to Copperplate, but Wade seemed to know the mountains like the back of his hand. He nodded, a swift glance at the sun betraying his tension. It was mid-afternoon.
“We’ve got about three miles to hike. Think you’re up to it?”
Riley stared at the winding track that climbed ahead of them. “I can do it,” she said, though she didn’t particularly want to. Sitting for so long had stiffened her up.
“First, let me get this damn thing free,” he muttered, “just in case we need to get out of here in a hurry.”
We. She took comfort from that. After his little bombshell earlier, she’d been too afraid to even examine what she’d do if that were the only option available to them.
Wade forced the jeep out of its ruts, and together they backed it into the side of the mountain, his biceps straining. The tight black shirt he wore was torn in several places, leaving part of his chest bare.
Between them, they got the jeep turned around, ready to leave, and Riley unhooked the battery wires. Fuel gauge wasn’t optimistic, but it might get them back to Absolution.
“We’ll circle around and come from the east,” Wade said, offering her his hand. "Copperplate’s riddled with tunnels.”
“Great. Because I hadn't quite had enough dark caves.”
Riley eased out of the jeep, feeling as stiff as an old man. Carefully, she stretched, trying to hide as much of her wince as she could. They both knew she was in no real condition to make a run for it, if she needed to. Desperation was the only thing keeping her at his side. He couldn’t do this alone, and she wouldn’t let him.
Wade shouldered his pack and helped slide her own over her shoulders. It was as light as they could make it, and even then the straps cut in. But the only other option was to head out into the mountains with no spare ammunition, food, or water, and she might as well cut her wrists now.
Riley judged the sky, forcing herself to suck it up. “It’s about two or three hours until the sun starts hitting the horizon.”
He nodded tersely. “It’s not a good situation,” he admitted. “But I’m running out of time.”
“We,” she corrected, stepping past him and starting up the narrow trail. The sawed-off shotgun was a welcome weight in her hands, despite the signs of neglect on it.
That he let her go first surprised her, until she felt his hand on her back to help her as gravel slipped beneath her boots. And she was aching enough that she didn’t try to push herself. Slow and steady… Or I’ll never make it.
“No sign of wargs,” Wade murmured after the first mile. “At least that’s one blessing. Cane and his crew must have cleared them out.”
Riley nodded, her legs trembling so badly that she didn’t even bother to answer. If she looked up, she could see miles of trekking in front of them, the red cliffs above rising seemingly forever.
Scrambling up trails made for bighorn was a nightmare. Wade was the only thing keeping her going, his hand and steady presence at her back helping her up each steep incline. Riley had never cursed her body so much. Being human sucked.
“At least you have crazy super-healing powers,” she muttered as Wade forced her to stop and take a drink of warm water from the canteen. It spilled over her lips in a welcome wave.
Concern filled his eyes. Hesitation. “Maybe you should head back.”
Riley lowered the water canteen and glared at him.
He held his hands up in surrender. “Even I know some fights are never going to be won.” His lips twisted. “I just hate seein’ you hurt, darlin’.”
"The second I stop is the second I start stiffening up. Tomorrow's probably going to be worse." A grim thought. Riley capped the bottle. “Let’s move.”
She didn’t know how long they climbed, but she was finally staring at a cave. Water spilled out of it in a trickle, rusted metal bars covering it. Shadows had fallen as the sun slowly dipped toward the horizon. They were running out of time.
“Spillway,” Wade announced quietly, stepping into the water. He bent low and hauled at the edge of the bars. Metal squealed as it curled back upon itself until there was a gap wide enough for her to fit through. “We’re at the back of the mine. This should bring us into the heart of it. We’ll come at them from within. I’ll track Lily down, and maybe we can get out before they even know we’ve been.”
Maybe. There was wishful thinking.
Riley staggered into the water, the biting cold sweeping through her and bringing much needed clarity. Ducking beneath the bars, she waited for Wade to follow, her nerves peaking. Caves. Jesus, why did it have to be more caves? Already she could feel the heavy press of the earth above.
Unstrapping the shotgun from over her shoulder, she pumped a few rounds into it.
“Don’t shoot unless you absolutely have to,” Wade warned. “It wouldn’t surprise me if Cane’s got a few surprises up his sleeve. Doesn’t seem like him, leaving the back door unguarded like this.”
“Maybe we got lucky.” But she didn’t believe it any more than he did.
Wade led the way forward, clicking on the flashlight they’d found in the reiver packs. He handed it to her, to ke
ep his hands free. Carrying both it and the shotgun was awkward, but she managed to handle them both.
Following the spillway, they made their way deeper into the mine, eventually coming out into an intersecting tunnel. This one had rail tracks.
“Right or left?” she whispered.
“Left. Air smells fresher.” A small frown played over his brow. “People have been through here recently. Smells like gasoline and tobacco.”
“How much gasoline?”
He shook his head. “Not enough for him to be trying to burn us alive. A small drip from a container, I’m thinking.” He cocked his head again, color draining from his tanned face. “Can you hear that?”
Riley fell silent. “Nothing—” And then… Whispers in the darkness. A shuffling sound that echoed through the tunnels.
Riley’s head shot up. She didn’t need to ask, but the words tumbled from her lips anyway. “What the hell is that?”
Twenty
“REVENANTS. FUCK!” WADE bared his teeth, the light gleaming off them. “I knew this was too easy.”
Riley lifted the flashlight. Her heart ticked in her chest, her mouth dry. She didn’t want to go further, didn’t want to let the darkness, or the reivers, sweep her up.
But a little girl was waiting at the end of this. Wade was waiting. And he’d done the same thing for Jimmy, when he didn’t have to.
Their eyes met. Wade knew exactly what she was thinking.
Somehow, she forced a smile to her lips, though it probably looked more like a grimace. “Of course there have to be revenants. And Cane has to know, which means they’re probably here on purpose. Locked in the mines to protect his back. With our luck, they’ve probably been starving them for days.” She licked her lips. “Lay on, MacDuff.”
“Mac what?” The tension eased out of his shoulders.
“Old play my dad had that survived the Darkening. Only vice he ever had, buying books and useless things.” Riley shrugged.
The silence stretched out. Through it, she could hear that silent whisper of clothing and rotting flesh. The heat drained out of her face, and she clutched the shotgun tighter.
