by Anna Sanders
“Well…” Keaton looked over at her. “Someone did warn my pack where to find a daevor. It could very well have been someone working for the Order. They would have anticipated your agreement.” He lowered his voice. “Possibly with a bit of persuasion.”
Winx thought of Skinned. She sighed. “And we’re supposed to trust her?”
“This is still our homeland. She’s bound under our rules. You’re protected. No one will be taking you against your will, Winx. I won’t allow it.”
In a huff, Winx picked up the shovel again and went back to her task. If Winx could have stopped, she would have without reservation. But at this point, she had come to a new resolution that could not be wavered: she wanted a free life once more. Part of that would mean not having to deal with the Order while she helped Keaton. His home was supposed to be a safe haven.
Being babysat was not something that she planned on. No one got that right over her. And definitely not a lixyn princess who spent her time trying to heal damaged souls.
“So, you have been living with my pack all of this time, Miss Merrick?” Keaton turned the subject to something a bit lighter even in the midst of dragging the smoking dead bodies into a pile.
“Oh yes, I have!” The lixyn was aglow. “Incredibly fascinating creatures, you Bandits are. So full of culture and diversity.”
Keaton tilted his head to the side. “That is an odd compliment.”
“Please, take it as such. I am enjoying myself quite a bit here.”
“Are the environments of the Queendom—”
“Oh, it is highly strict there,” Genevieve cut him off, guessing what his question was. “Nothing like this. I have completely shaken the need for kid gloves here, and the liberation is something quite exciting, let me assure you. I am elated to be able to assist in this undertaking.”
“But Miss Merrick—”
“Please, feel free to call me Genevieve. Or Evy, if you’d like.”
Winx rolled her eyes, which because of her current task led to a bit of dust to mar her vision. She blinked rapidly and began to rub at it.
“Alright. Evy. You do understand the rules of the pack, correct?” Keaton asked.
Evy raised her right hand as if swearing under oath. “That I do. I am in full cooperation with the bylaws laid down by your alpha. I am only here to help.”
“Very well. But in the future you should always stay accompanied by one of the guard. That’s what the sentries are there for. To keep us all out of danger.”
“Oh. That. I dismissed them. I was sure that if I ran into any trouble I would be able to handle myself. I am a warrior, after all. I have been very well-trained.”
Winx scoffed from the inside of her ditch. She was ignored.
“Were you hurt?” Keaton asked, seeming unsure if he was concerned or not.
“It was nothing serious. I have already healed myself and learned my lesson.”
“I can only hope so.” Winx succumbed to the temptation to mock Evy. She leaned against the shovel handle and quirked her brow. “Healing savages is not a normal pastime for anyone around here. If you’ve had such grand training, you should know that much.”
“Listen, you,” Evy countered, her smile evaporating. “I have had just enough of your spite!”
The sarcasm was far from over.
“Oh dear, forgive me, your majesty.”
Winx took the shovel from under her chin and tossed it aside. She walked over to the bodies that Keaton was still beside, and the two of them began to drag them into the hole.
“At least they get a proper burial,” Evy muttered. She sort of tried to help them get the five men into the grave, only she could not seem to bring herself to actually touch any of them. She kicked one of them with her foot, nudging his leg closer to the hole.
“Don’t worry. We’ve got it.” Keaton waved Genevieve off. She gladly stepped aside and let them deal with the bodies.
Winx was far from happy at the way Keaton was being so amiable toward the chit. And she did not feel like evaluating the reasons behind it.
CHAPTER 14
THE FIRST THING WINX SAW when coming upon the Bandit camp were many mobile homes, colorful teepees and modernized tents. The canopy of trees held thatched, makeshift roofs to help control the elements. And they looked surprisingly strong—reassuringly braced with steel as well as wood. The platforms must have been built recently, and Winx wondered how they were able to get away with this. Everything looked sturdy, yet also temporary. If they needed to go on the run, the teardown would be speedy and efficient.
Many large stone fire pits had been carefully placed about the area, and each was ablaze. The delicious smells of meat and vegetables cooking with interesting spices filled the air. Winx and Genevieve received a few speculative looks from the locals. Some even sniffed the air around them, as if their scent would tell them everything that a hello couldn’t.
Children ran in circles around their parents. Teenagers smoked wicked-looking pipes in lawn chairs around the outer rims. There were a few men and women patrolling the area, armed with unknown weapons. All types inhabited the area. All colors, all races. Young and old. They truly were a mixed bunch of gypsies.
“You will need to speak directly to the alpha,” Keaton said. “She is waiting for us. Then, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you had your ankle seen to.”
Winx wouldn’t have minded if those tasks were in reverse, but she said nothing.
They walked up to an especially secluded wickiup. It was decorated with seashells, precious stones, arrowheads, beads, and ribbons. The outer flaps were lined with raccoon hides. The strong smells of incense swarmed the canvas. It was like taking a step back in time.
Keaton made a soft call, almost like a purr. There was a similar call in answer, and he reached down to hold open a flap.
“After you.” He nodded to both Evy and Winx.
Winx pushed passed Genevieve and went into the tent first. The princess gasped in shock, unused to such treatment. She gave Keaton a sharp glance.
He shrugged. “You get used to her. I mean, you try to, anyway.”
Genevieve curled her upper lip in haughty disdain and walked into the wickiup.
The inside was just as lavish as its outer counterpart. Many furs insulated the walls. A small grated pit held a fire, keeping the place warm. More hides and soft patches were underfoot, as if stepping onto a velvet cloud.
At the center of the home was the alpha. Ottanu was stunning, her features Native. Built with strength, she was a tad burly with thickened arms and risen height even while sitting. But this did not hide her feminine qualities; she harbored a nice face and glorious jet black hair. She looked up at her guests with dark coal eyes.
“Welcome.” Her voice was an impressive chime. As she was the authority, she did not stand. She spread her hands out. “Please, all of you. Sit.”
They each sat down. Ottanu got a good look at them each.
“Was there a battle?” she asked Winx.
Winx shrugged, resisting the urge to look at her ankle. From what she’d seen earlier, the blood was already clotting, but it still looked fiery and nasty. “A small one. Your resident lixyn found herself in a pickle. It was how she chose to introduce herself to me.”
“You should see to that wound. Savages are not very sanitized.”
“I will do so.”
Ottanu spoke the rest slowly and clearly, as if to be sure that both spoke English.
“You are brave to come here, to help us face our problem. For many months, we have tried to keep the savages back from our land. For a long while, we succeeded. But their numbers grow, and ours do not. We prefer to remain a small group; there are only forty of us here, not including children. Our soldiers fight well, but they are starting to weary of the onslaught. We have lost many.”
“The lixyns told you where to find me?” Winx asked.
“Yes, they did. You must understand, we were mighty in need. I had heard of the eradi
cation forces, and I know of the powers of those with the Touch. I know that there are organizations out there who stop the savages. Their lost souls know no mercy. We have been blessed by finding you.” She nodded at Keaton in an appreciative action. He ducked his head in a show of submission, yet pride.
Winx felt a bit more of her irritation ebb. Maybe it was the fumes of all the incense blinding her to her indignation. Or maybe it was the genuine smile of Ottanu.
The flap opened, and another girl walked in. “Cousin! I had heard you were back!”
The small girl launched herself at Keaton. He caught her easily and hugged her tight.
“Stori!” A laugh rumbled from his chest. “Where have you been?”
“Securing the perimeter for the night. Making sure none of those devils sneak up on us while we sleep.”
Stori Silver was willowy. Her dark hair was cut short, only curling about her ears. She had a lively face with a mole dotted on her upper right cheek. Her sparkling eyes were vivid. But noticeable about her person were a patchwork of vitiligo. The depigmentation, however, did not damage her comely figure.
“You must be the demon!” Stori turned to Winx, still sprawled in Keaton’s lap. Winx leaned back a bit to allow herself space from actual contact.
“I have not heard much about you, but I am so excited you are here. Thank you.” Despite Winx’s veering away, Stori touched Winx’s hand with sincerity.
Winx almost gave into the temptation to smile back. But instead, she just nodded once. If she did not remain hardened, nobody would take her seriously as a fighter.
“And I’ve met you already, of course.” Stori spoke to Genevieve. “Are you enjoying your stay here amongst us?”
“It has all been quite rousing, yes,” Genevieve said.
“Very good.” Stori gave her mate a cheeky smile as she left Keaton’s lap. “You see? I do play the host well, though you feigned concern about it.”
Ottanu gave her darling mate a caress on the cheek once she approached her, revealing an almost uncomfortable ardor, then turned back to their visitors.
“Take the remainder of the evening to rest easy and find accommodations you deem worthy,” Ottanu told Winx. “We have empty spaces for your use. Keaton will show you what is available.”
“I would be happy to.” Keaton stood up in preparation to leave, holding a hand out to Winx. She took it only because of Genevieve’s noise about his ministrations to Winx and not herself.
Ottanu continued. “Please make yourselves satisfied with all that we have to offer in comfort and provisions. We have rooms that have been well-stocked. I look forward to us becoming better acquainted.”
Ottanu waved at them as they all left.
Later, after having her ankle thoroughly cleaned and swathed with cloth, Winx was shown to her own quarters in the form of a mobile home. On the inside was a bathroom with a working toilet and running water, which sealed the deal. There was also extra battery power for lamps, music, and a space heater. A small cot made up the bedroom and living area, with overly plushy comforters, furs, and sheets.
She put down her duffle bag that Keaton had brought for her and made herself at home.
THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE QUIET in a way that was unsettling, but there were brief moments where Winx found herself content. The weather was becoming harsher. Hard winds were beginning to blow, and some nights, it was as if her trailer could be swept up in a shifty gale. She ignored this large ambush as best she could.
One day, she sat on her front step and took care to sharpen her knife. She also had guns in her pack, and maybe she would need bullet power one day, but using Deja’s blade seemed so much better at times. She had already been bitten, and nobody needed to reiterate how fun that wasn’t.
The healing was going as easy as it could. She found herself annoyed for the first time that lixyns could heal themselves. Genevieve had been walking around without any evidence of her trials from that day, and Winx was still trying to adjust to walking with the least amount of difficulty.
Why did wounds hurt so much more when they were mending than when they were obtained?
Winx stared at Keaton when he waltzed into camp after patrolling. He was dressed in what could be considered peasant style: his usually braided hair was loose, but secured from his face with a bandana, his gray sweatpants were baggy, and his white shirt was nothing more than a bit of scrapped together linen with maybe four buttons to speak of.
“What are you wearing?” Winx called to him when he stopped near her sleeping quarters.
“What, this? This is my running outfit.” He shrugged. “It makes going at high speeds quite comfortable. Not as restricting as my jeans. This is how I dress when I am at home.”
“Yes, if he dresses at all,” Stori joked as she passed, giving his longer hair a playful tug. It earned her a push, and the two of them began to chase each other around the grounds.
“Oh now, really, it is far too early for that kind of behavior.”
Genevieve had just left her highly stylish teepee. She had spent the better part of her arrival being sure that it was the most decorated in the bandit encampment—Winx could tell. As if the girl didn’t already stand out. Her clothing was always overly fashionable and always a flowing dress of some sort. Her long auburn hair was curled regularly, though Winx could not think of how she was doing it. And she carried around a saber, complete with an orb at its hilt and intricate carvings and designs on the blade. She lorded over anyone she could with her head held aloft and her manner overtly pompous.
Yet, at the same time, she could not help but be chipper along with it. It was like she had a split personality: one half entitled, the other half sprightly.
Along with her mood swings, Genevieve also had a double agenda. Far from only being there to aid the Bandits, Winx noticed that Genevieve was questioning the locals on their savage strategies and making her way through the most skilled fighters. She was trying to recruit members for the Order or for the eradication forces. Which, essentially, was the same thing in her eyes.
Didn’t the fool girl understand that the fighters were needed here? Not only them, but anyone else who could help?
Though the area seemed clear for now, it might not always stay that way. The changing elements seemed to be drawing the savages away from the forests and off to somewhere else entirely unknown. Whether or not this migrating was permanent, and what the resistance would eventually have to resort to in order to find them again, Winx could not say exactly. But she never let down her guard, not even in the early stages of sleep. And plans laid heavily on her mind, constant strategies.
The two Bandit cousins were still at their roughhousing. Stori sat on Keaton, so he threw her off of him. She nearly collided face-first into a tree, but she stopped herself in time to turn back and attack once more, much to the amusement of the younger children and teenagers watching them.
“You are going to break the poor girl!” Genevieve admonished.
“Oh, please. Stori is tough.” Keaton picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. He was a lot taller than her, so her feet kicked uselessly in the air. “Besides, I’m the victor!”
Stori was laughing pretty hard by this point. She flipped easily out of Keaton’s arms when he tossed her from him.
“All right, who’s next?” Keaton stooped low in a combat position. The children laughed around him but did not advance. “Oh come on! Jon? Carly?” He turned to the daevor with a devilish grin. “Winx?”
Winx looked up with a bland gaze when she heard her name called. Keaton was giving her a teasing glare, pumping his arm muscles in a show of arrogance. She shook her head slowly, as if the indication were needed.
“No? Ah. I shouldn’t try to embarrass her. She would lose,” he whispered to the kids. They giggled and looked over at Winx to see her reaction.
Winx turned her attention back to her task, striking the blade with the stone in heated precision.
“You shouldn’t tease her because
she has a knife, dear. Not because she would lose. Didn’t I teach you better than that?”
Winx looked up when she heard the voice. An older woman with the same happy eyes as Keaton walked over to him. Her equally dark hair was beginning to gray in a few secluded patches, but she was aging incredibly well.
Keaton laughed in response and stood upright. “Well, you know me, Ma. I cannot resist a challenge.”
“We can all tell you are quite the skilled one,” she told Winx.
“Incredibly so. Winx? You’ve met my mother Ayelen, correct?”
Winx nodded once. Ayelen had been a part of the welcoming committee that had cleaned her wound and filled her up with food when they’d first arrived.
Ayelen never lost her grin, showing where Keaton had gotten his cheery disposition. “Thank you again for coming. We are so appreciative of you putting your life on pause to come and help us. If you ever need anything, anything, simply ask and I will see it done.”
“I could use some food…”
“Easily acquired, child!” Ayelen looked more than happy to get the request and headed away almost immediately after being asked.
Keaton crossed his arms and stared at her oddly. He did not look mad exactly, more shocked at her daring.
“What? She offered,” Winx pointed out, sheathing her blade. “It would have been rude to not give her something to live for.”
“Honestly. That could have been better done.” Genevieve flippantly put in her two cents. “Would not a ‘please’ be in order?”
“Why are you even still here?” Winx asked her, unable to hold her tongue.
“Why? I am here to help, of course. Same as you.”
“Don’t you need your beauty sleep?”
Genevieve fluffed her long hair over her shoulder and walked away instead of giving a retort.
“If you are not careful, you are going to end up high on her list,” Keaton warned.
Winx smiled, a truly evil one as well. “If only it were that easy.”
“Who would win between a lixyn and a daevor?” Keaton pondered out loud.
