When he asked me to send pictures, I was able to stand. Once my head adjusted to the higher altitude, walking became easier to handle, so I was even able to send him crime scene pictures from my phone. Hank assured me that a crew was coming to collect evidence before he signed off.
The night seemed denser among the cliffs. Noises from small nocturnal animals came from out of sight in all directions. It wasn’t long before I felt uneasy. Knowing Vincent was around somewhere made it feel like pixies were determined to tie my stomach into knots. I decided to call Gran.
“Hi, sweetie.”
“Hi, Gran.” I hesitated. “Did you have a good day?”
“Had a great day,” Gran said, “but I know that's not why you called. You called about Vincent.”
Chapter 9
I let out a sigh. It wasn’t all bad living with a psychic. The mess that I felt inside funneled from Vincent. “He's safe, right?”
“That man is not going to hurt you. I didn't say he was safe. Far from it. But you and I have nothin' to fear from him.”
“Do you know what he does?” I asked, my stomach clenched, not sure I would be happy with any answer.
“No, I know that you're as safe with him as you would be with Logan.”
“Thanks, Gran.”
“You didn't grab the aspirin.”
“Did you know why I would need it?” I wondered how much Gran saw about today.
“Nope, knew you'd have a headache.”
“Yeah, I'm regretting I didn't take the aspirin. I'll pick some up on the way home. I’ll be late. Love you, Gran.”
“Love you, sweetie.”
My wait for Vincent’s return seemed less grim after talking with Gran.
When I heard someone approach on the trail, I stood at the ready, gun still firmly in hand. I was certain it was Vincent, but I did feel better once I was able to confirm.
“The fairy wasn’t harmed,” Vincent said as he neared me on the trail.
“That’s a relief. There’s another crew on the way to collect evidence.”
Vincent brought out the first-aid kit and by the light of a flashlight cautiously cleaned up the gash on my head. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but I felt awful. When the forensic team arrived, I was more than happy to head back to the Farm.
The trip back to the office was ceaselessly interrupted by Hank’s calls. He spoke with Vincent to get more details. Vincent’s answers were short and to the point.
I wanted to sleep, but Vincent interrupted each attempt I made.
At the Farm, the doctor looked me over and bandaged me up. Head wounds bleed a lot, so I really looked worse than I was. No stitches were needed, but butterfly sutures were placed over the cut. My ribs were bruised, but nothing was broken. Hank seemed to have endless rounds of reports. Eventually, we were allowed to tear away from the Farm and head home.
I wanted to sleep on the way, but Vincent had other ideas.
“There are some things we need to talk about,” Vincent said.
I sighed. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”
“The fairies. You seemed surprised at their treatment of you.”
“I was. Sure they try to dust me, but today, yesterday I guess, they seemed really to hate me.”
“Have you ever had interactions with that homestead?”
“No, but then, neither have you. They talked to you. Is that normal for you?”
Vincent took some time before he answered. “It’s not something that I would have expected. Fairies in general have no aversions to me that I’ve seen, but they do prefer to talk to others if the possibility is available.”
I shrugged and looked out the passenger side window. “Everything about me feels off. Maybe they sensed it.” The thought wasn’t comforting.
That night, sleep didn't last nearly as long as I would have liked. When the next day came, my head pounded as I dragged myself out of bed. My ribs were covered in bruises, which matched the dark circles under my eyes.
The moment I stepped out of my room, Vincent showed he took the partner thing seriously. He stuck close to me. Since I didn't leave the house, it got annoying fast. Trying to get him to talk took so much effort that I gave up quickly.
Logan returned late in the afternoon. He walked in with a smile on his face, but it disappeared after one look at me.
“Called into work?” he asked.
“Yeah, the fairies in Linn County.” Vincent and I filled Logan in on the details. We left out some information. We already knew working as a team didn't go well, and we didn't need to hear Logan's opinion on our less than stellar efforts.
“Hank didn’t mention it when I reported in,” Logan said, almost to himself.
“I’m sure he has his hands full,” I said.
“No truer words spoken. Two more Lost are missing from the Ozarks,” Logan said. “We found footprints and tire tracks after hours of searching the woods, but no witnesses. Too remote an area.”
“Why would someone kidnap the Lost?” I asked. “Is someone trying to take them public?”
“Not an ideal scenario,” Vincent said.
“It would cause chaos for the world,” Logan added.
I nodded. “Does the total missing stand at six?”
“That's all we know of,” Logan said. “The agency is checking on everyone, but it's a lot of checking up to do. Anyone at the office have any theories yet?”
Vincent shook his head. “We haven’t been into the office today. No one said anything when I called.”
“Anyone at the office have any more information on the fiend, or why you were attacked?” Logan asked.
Vincent answered. “There are no leads in that area. My contacts on the west coast stated that no one else has been sent here. After the incident with Cassie, the office has dropped the contract and they are working with this branch to investigate.”
I crossed my arms not liking the terminology. “The contract?”
“For the fiend.”
“Your contacts have enough reach to know for sure?” Logan asked before I could say anything else.
“He's certain. There are also new safeguards and redundancy plans being put into place to prevent any further incidents against agents,” Vincent said.
“That should mean Cassie is in the clear then,” Logan said.
“That is probable, but it is too early to rely on new protocols,” Vincent said. “It is still possible that someone believes that Cassie is a demon.”
The idea set me on edge. It didn't help that they had started talking about me as if I wasn't there.
“We can keep an eye on her at work,” Logan said. “At home might be trickier.”
“I’ll be here.” Vincent said.
To me it sounded suffocating.
Logan’s expression didn’t change, but he looked ridged. “You’ll be here?”
“We didn’t have a chance to tell you,” I said. “It worked out better for him to stay in the spare room.”
“Margaret agreed to this?” Logan asked.
“It was Gran’s suggestion,” I said.
The news appeared to settle over Logan. He stared hard at Vincent. Uneasiness from both men seemed to swell in the room, swamping my own senses.
“Knock it off,” I said through gritted teeth.
Vincent moved away and Logan’s confusion became evident.
“It seems I’ve missed much more than you’re telling me,” Logan said.
“Vincent can fill you in.” I needed to get my mind wrapped around my heightened emotions and damaged abilities. That wasn’t going to happen here. “I’m going out.” Logan and Vincent both got up, ready to follow. “Alone,” I added.
“If you're uncomfortable with him here, we can send him away,” Logan said.
“It's not that.” And it was true. I wasn't sure what to think about Vincent anymore. His presence brought confusion, but I wasn't uncomfortable.
“It would be unwise to go to the office,” Vincent said.
&nb
sp; I glared at Vincent. “There are places outside the office. Besides, if anyone from inside the agency wants me gone, they're going to have a harder time trying now. You said so yourself.”
“That doesn't mean they won't try.” His voice was low and monotone. Signs of discomfort showed on his face. “Are you going far?”
Frustration rose at the thought of being tethered down. I shook my head. “I’m going to the Sanctuary. It’s not as far away as you were staying.”
Vincent didn't say anything.
Logan seemed more puzzled, but he was at least willing to back me up. “You strapped?”
“I'm only going for a walk, but I'll take it.”
“Don’t rely on tranqs and check in,” Logan said. “In the meantime, Vincent and I have a few things to discuss.”
“Right.” That didn’t sound reassuring. I thought about telling them to keep the blood off the carpet. When I looked from one man to the other, I decided it wasn’t a good plan to put ideas into their heads. “I’ll call in later.”
I took my car. There was some discomfort the further I got from the house. From Vincent, I corrected. Knowing it was temporary made it easier to contend with.
Pulling into the Sanctuary drive, I could see that there were already several cars parked in the lot. Very few knew about the Sanctuary, but the Lost, and those in on the secret, could access the park. Still, I didn’t expect there to be many people.
Travis gave me a warm smile as I walked up to the small group of people.
“We have a few agents in from Arizona tonight.” Travis nodded to the group. “Are you here to join us?”
“I'm actually here for a walk,” I said returning his smile. “I need to clear my head.”
“Getting in touch with nature does wonders for a person's psyche. James Long,” Travis pointed, indicating an older man, “is a Shaman who lives in the area. He helps many keep their balance between nature and life.”
James looked intriguing. He was marvelously tall, with long white hair smattered with a hint of gray that fell well below his shoulders. His beard was the same color and almost as long as his hair. Nestled in the middle of his beard was a long thin braid. I shook his hand and noticed that the smell of sage lingered like perfume. The amazing part was that as soon as I shook his hand, I felt calm.
James looked at me for a long time before saying anything. “You are broken.”
Anger made my cheeks flush; so much for calm. “Excuse me?”
James didn't bother with a response. Travis, on the other hand, looked livid.
“Cassie is going for a walk to help pull herself together,” Travis said, straining to keep his voice calm.
“She needs it.” James walked away.
Travis watched his retreating back. “I'm so sorry. I've never seen James behave this way.”
“Don't worry about it.” I tried to shrug off my anger. “I'm off.” Nodding to Travis, I headed toward the trail that would lead me along the riverbank. Before moving too far away from the gathering, I turned back, and saw that James was watching.
When I started out, I didn't think about my predicament. The path hugged a stream and when the trail curved into the woods, I decided to stay next to the water. Downstream I found the perfect spot. Several large rocks stood on the bank. Climbing onto the largest boulder, I got settled.
Meditating to the sound of rushing water, I let its energy wash over me. Once I centered myself and felt calm, I opened my eyes and watched the ripples of the stream and the trees waving in the breeze. I started to mull over my situation. It helped being calm and having a clear head.
It hardly seemed possible that a little over forty-eight hours earlier, I was almost killed. Thinking someone was purposefully trying to bump me off was too egotistical to comprehend. I wasn't important enough for someone to try to kill. Maybe it really was an accident.
My would-be killer had since taken up residence in my house.
Tossing that idea around, I thought more about Vincent. Getting a feel for the guy was difficult. Emotion was one thing, but intentions? It didn’t help that he appeared even more guarded with Logan around. His claim of wanting to help resolve his mistake was going unfulfilled. Admittedly, we’ve been busy, but still, can a soul be fixed?
He claimed to know me.
That seemed true enough. Several times, he started to say things and changed his tactic. Last night I was sure that he was going to tell me to sit where I was. The moment that ‘you’re going to,’ came from his mouth, I was ready to tell him off, but then he stopped and made a suggestion instead. Thinking this over only led to more questions. Was he trying to avoid an argument, manipulate me, or was he trying to be nice? It would be nice to know where Vincent fell in the scheme of things.
“Do not move,” the gruff voice came from the woods.
Startled, I attempted to spin around and fell from my perch. A man was on top of me before my brain caught up with the situation. He pinned me to the ground.
“I said, do not move.”
Panic and adrenaline gave me the strength to pull an arm free.
“I am trying very hard to fight my instinct to kill you right now.” His voice strained.
It was Rider Wolfe. In the dark, he looked pained, but my mind was behind my reaction speed. My free hand had already pulled my gun. Attacking me was the wrong thing to do, but at the last moment, I changed my aim away from center mass. I pulled the trigger. The bullet sliced through his side and he rolled away from me.
Shit! I shot somebody!
I rolled up and put the rock at my back, facing Rider. I breathed heavily, trying to will the panic out of my body.
“You were not who I expected.” His speech was staggered by panting.
I didn't answer and kept the gun firmly in hand. He no longer showed signs of aggression toward me, but I wasn't taking any chances. I also wasn't going to take a chance on him getting away. He walked up and had warned me not to move, for all the good it did either of us. Thinking of the strain on his face, it had really seemed like he had been trying to fight instinct.
“Why did you attack me?” I asked at last.
Rider considered the question. “You smell different.”
“And that's a bad thing?”
Rider shrugged from his spot on the ground. “You smell like prey. Like dinnertime.” He was silent again.
“Let me get this straight, you want to eat me?”
He did not look in my direction. Was this a werewolf thing? I really needed to read up more on the people I worked with. I gripped my gun in case this wasn't a cultural misunderstanding.
“I think that would be a bad thing,” Rider said.
“Damn straight, that would be a bad thing. Can I move now? Have you gotten yourself under control?”
“I will not attack you.”
The gun never left my hand, but I took my finger off the trigger. Rider didn't move from the ground.
“I shot you,” I said, stating the obvious.
“Yes, thankfully, you shot me.”
“Thankfully?”
“It would have been bad for both of us had you not.” He sounded calm now.
I wish I could say the same thing. “I should call a doctor for you.” I dug in my jacket pocket for a cell phone.
“No need,” replied Rider. “I only have a scratch.”
My first thought was that I should check out the injury. My instincts decided my brain was stupid. Instinct won out and I stayed with my back planted firmly against the rock.
We sat in stark silence for a while. Rider still didn’t move.
“What do you mean I smell different?” I asked.
“You smelled one way. Now you smell another.”
“Is it normal for someone's smell to change?” I asked.
Rider hesitated. “It usually takes something drastic. But then, I am new here, maybe it is normal.”
“Someone sucked part of my soul out the other day,” I said. “Maybe that's the differen
ce.”
Rider's response was not what I expected. From the ground, he laughed long and hard. My arm was getting tired and I felt like an idiot pointing my gun at a man laughing on the ground. I put my hands in my pockets, with one of them still resting on the gun, and looked over at him, feeling a little uncomfortable. I was clearly missing something.
He caught his breath. “That was one of the last things I thought I would hear coming out of your mouth.” He laughed a bit more.
“Really?” I asked. “What did you expect?”
“Nothing quite so exciting.”
“That's me, full of excitement,” I mumbled.
“Honestly, I was not expecting anything that exciting to happen here. My dad said it was tame when he lived here.”
“Is that why you came over? Because your dad lived here?”
Rider was quiet again for a bit. He moved into a sitting position and pulled away from me. At first, I didn't think he was going to answer. Maybe I asked the wrong question. Who knew what was appropriate with a werewolf? Thinking back to what Logan said about werewolves didn’t give me any indication of what might be considered ill-mannered. Then again, he had attacked me and I had shot him. We were probably well beyond being worried about courtesy at that point.
“He lived here for a while,” Rider finally admitted. “My mother is from here. She left the house to me when she passed away.”
We let the silence go on for a while. Finally, feeling it appropriate to do so, I replied, “Sorry about your mother passing away.”
“We all have our time.”
“What brings you out here tonight?” I asked.
“Travis invited me. We are getting to be friends, so I thought I would try meeting a few other people.”
“Travis is a good guy.” Remembering what Logan said, werewolves have a unique view on friendship. It was hard to become their friend, but once you are, they were a friend for life.
“He is, and he knows who I am. There was another fellow tonight that somehow knows, too. Travis called him James. He looked me over and called me a shifter right away. Thankfully not in front of others.”
A.I.R. Shattered Soul Page 9
