by Dianna Love
“I’m not a witch, asshole.”
“Exactly. You’re nothing but a freak.”
She had never felt so powerless, which was hard to imagine after years of imprisonment and slave labor.
Another ghost appeared in her usual attire of jeans with a T-shirt that read Live. Love. Laugh.
Right. Great advice from someone Siofra had never seen laugh, plus the ghost needed to draw a circle around the word “live” with a line through it.
This spirit came to her from time to time, but never spoke. She’d been a pretty woman when she died, except for the sad look that never left her eyes. Her presence must have pushed the other frantic ninny ghost aside, because the first one slowly became invisible.
Sad Lady bent down and put her hands on Siofra’s feet. A pressure pushed the soles of her feet down on the ground and buzzing started under her heels.
Was pinning her feet to the ground supposed to be helpful?
Major spirit fail.
Dyson’s claws shot out from his fingers. He sliced across the middle of her overalls, ripping the front in two. He laughed, a creepy sound. “This is gonna be fun.”
Tears poured from her eyes. She cried at the crappy life she’d been given and pleaded with the ghost in a thin voice, “Help me, please help me.”
The woman in jeans faded and blinked out, but the curly-headed ghost was back, wringing her hands in between pointing at Siofra’s feet.
So. Not. Helping!
Dyson slashed a claw across Siofra’s chest once more, this time breaking skin. She yelled at the burning sensation.
His weight held her in place with the ease of a building sitting on her. She called out for help again and got a piece of her overalls shoved in her mouth.
The ghost frantically pointed at her feet.
Siofra silently screamed, What?
Dyson popped open the sides of her overalls and every muscle in her body tightened in fear. Panic exploded through her. Her body vibrated. She dug her fingers into his arms, trying to push him away. Her toes curled into the dirt from terror over what Dyson was about to do.
A sizzle of energy vibrated against the balls of her feet, then moved up into her calves.
What was happening to her? She didn’t want this monster to think being attacked turned her on.
Her ghost started floating away as if her job was done.
Damn ghosts always showing up at the worst time and never making any sense.
Siofra lunged up again, but Dyson slapped his massive hand on her stomach, holding her in place. He used his free hand to grab the waist of her overalls to pull them down.
No! She would not let him do this.
Siofra lunged up to push her thumbs into his eyes.
He was faster and jerked his head to the side, then gave her another wallop that sent stars through her gaze and knocked the rag from her mouth. But pausing to strike her had interrupted his attempt to get her pants down.
The buzz climbing her legs grew stronger, and the energy moved up higher.
Maybe she was a freak and crazy, just like everyone said, but no woman deserved this. She shouted, “Why, dammit? Why are you doing this? I’ve never given you reason to hurt me.”
Lowering his face until his glowing eyes stared hard into hers, he said, “It’s your fault they want to give Bernadette to the Black River pack, because she’s beautiful and not crazy. All I have to do is get you pregnant and your ass is out of here in her place. I get my woman back and I won’t have to look at you again. I tried to stomach doing it the nice way. You put me off too long and now I’m losing her in four days. You better test positive before that or you’ll do this every day from here on out.”
He thought to get Siofra pregnant? How could he not know about her?
She couldn’t believe the stupidity of this.
Slapping at his hands, she shouted, “You idiot. You can’t get me pregnant. They already told me I’m sterile.” That word still sent her stomach tumbling when she thought about it. On one level she was grateful that she could not have a baby they would then take from her and sell, but in her dreams she lived as a free person and had a life with a family of her own.
Being a guard meant Dyson should have heard about her infertility. The camp doctor had put her through additional tests to confirm it.
“I’ve gotten plenty of you bitches pregnant for the bosses,” Dyson bragged. “You’re no different than the rest other than being a loony piece of ass.” He shredded what was left of her T-shirt and moved his claw to rip a new opening all the way down the front of her pants.
Panic overrode all thought.
She grabbed his forearms and used them to yank her upper body off the ground. “Noooo!”
Power spread all at once up into her chest, flooding her arms and finally her fingers where she grasped his thick biceps.
Her burst of energy made contact with Dyson.
He went rigid, as if hit with a lightning strike. He bellowed in pain, then started shaking.
She couldn’t open her fingers to release him. They were stuck to his body. Energy buzzed so loud in her ears she couldn’t hear anything else.
He kept shuddering and his neck muscles stuck out unnaturally from strain. She feared they would snap and veins would burst.
She would never survive his retaliation, because shifters healed quickly and he’d be out for blood.
Finally the buzzing calmed. Her fingers felt like they would obey her mind now, but she was too shocked by the wild look frozen on Dyson’s face to move a muscle.
A roar of fury reached her right before a massive boot kicked Dyson off of her. The shifter’s body went airborne, slamming a tree and falling to the ground.
She dropped onto her back with her hands in the air and the tips of her fingers smoking.
That was new and not good.
“Are you okay, Siofra?” a deep voice asked in a panicked voice.
She could see his blurry face and hear his words, but her lips wouldn’t work.
He dropped down to a knee and shook her hard. “Siofra, wake up. They will come soon.”
Blinking, she sharpened her focus.
Taller and with way more muscle mass than Dyson, her camp brother had a savage look to him with his dark beard and hair askew. He’d been the first person to care about her in all these years.
She started shivering and shaking her head. “I think I ... ”
“Calm down, Siofra. I am sorry to be rough, but guards are howling. They know Dyson is dead.”
Dyson dead? How was he dead? Did I do that?
The guards would kill her.
“I don’t hear them,” she mumbled, still hearing the energy buzzing in her ears. Thankfully, she hadn’t hurt Baatar.
He kept talking in a low, but urgent voice. “Yes, but I hear them. You must leave.” He lifted her to her feet and yanked his shirt over his head to cover her.
“How can I get out of here?” she mumbled, not able to form a clear thought yet. Then she lifted her head. Even she could hear their howls now.
Panic hit her with a renewed punch.
Her mind snapped back to the moment. She argued in a string of confusion, “I don’t understand. What happened? It’s all woods around us. They’ll catch me in no time.”
Baatar dug through Dyson’s clothes as he talked. “When they bring me in, I am not in deep sleep like they think. I watch whole way. There is road two miles on other side of river. Cross river, get to road and do not stop. Dark will fall soon. Find someone to help you, but be careful. Once guards know you are gone, they will send someone to highway to hunt you. I will keep them busy and give you good head start.”
Leave without him? No. And he hadn’t answered how the shifter could be dead. Shifters healed, always. Had Baatar somehow killed him while she was out of it? “Come with me, Baatar. You said we’d find a way out of here and live safe one day.” Her hands trembled as she tied the ripped parts of her overalls around her waist to hold up what was left of her pan
ts. Baatar somehow had her shoes on her feet, and in the next moment, her clothes were straightened enough for her to run.
“I wish for hat to cover your white hair, Siofra,” Baatar grumbled, still getting her ready.
She’d figure out hiding her hair if she got out of here. “Come with me,” she repeated. “Please.”
His dark eyes held a longing for a second, but he shook his head. “Listen, baby girl. You cannot stay. This is best chance for you to escape. I will distract them plenty time for you to get away.”
“What about you?”
“No worry. I will get out, too. If they do not catch you tonight, I am gone tomorrow. I can move faster alone.” He grabbed her hand and shoved a wad of cash into it. “Use this to find way out of area fast, but save some for food. Do not wait for me or we will both be caught.”
She stared at the money. “Where’d you get this?”
“Dyson’s pants. He got paid two days ago. Did not leave camp to spend yet. Put somewhere safe.”
She made two stabs at shoving the money in a pocket on her pants. If she kept shaking this bad, she’d never make it.
Baatar grabbed her shoulders, drawing her full attention to his gray eyes. “Stay away from shifters no matter what. Even females. Do not be so nice to them.”
He meant when she’d cared for a female jackal’s child when the woman lost her mate. Sometimes life got so confusing. She found male jackal shifters disgusting, but she couldn’t so easily hate a woman and child who were not a threat to her.
“I know. I will.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you and leave the building the minute I heard the whistle. This is all my fault.”
“No! Not your fault that bastard attacked you, but be more careful starting now. You have to watch your own back until we find each other again. You know where I will go when I am free. You show up, leave the sign we talked about, then find place to wait. Do not get impatient.”
“I won’t. I’ll wait.” She had zero patience, but for Baatar she’d do her best so he was proud of her and they could reunite.
“Go now.” He turned her toward the river, but her gaze fell on Dyson’s body at the base of the tree as she swung around.
Baatar had not done that. What had happened? That power she’d felt ... that had killed a shifter? She hated those jackals even more for this. She’d never hurt anyone before.
Now, she was a killer.
“Isn’t there a fence?” Yes, she wanted to escape, but this was all too much to process so quickly.
“There is fence before river, but you can climb over. No electricity, but sharp wire. Be careful. Jackals have no worry about captives getting over it. They are so sure they can track and outrun humans, they do not think about one running far enough to go over fence.”
Baatar had struggled to hide that he wasn’t entirely human, because he was abnormally strong and fast.
But so were the guards.
“They’ll catch me,” she worried aloud.
He shook his head. “They will be too busy chasing me. First I leave my scent all over this place and Dyson. Then I run in different directions, like zigzag. I am bigger prize because fools think they will gain more money for me.”
Baatar gave her a hug that warmed her chilled heart. She’d never find a man as good as him to spend her life with. After her father handed her over without a fight, only to die in spite of that, and now Dyson tried to rape her, she had no use for men.
Escape and survival were her only goals. “Be careful, Baatar.”
“I will. Keep head down and find hat soon. Do not show eyes either. Do whatever you must to stay alive and hide from these bastards.”
Nodding, she turned to leave and stared at Dyson’s rigid body again. “I just want you to know I didn’t mean ... to kill him.” And she still had no idea how she’d actually done it, but suspected her ethereal visitors had upped their game from being irritating to dangerous.
Baatar said, “Do not look at him or waste guilt over that prick. He did not deserve his life.”
Howling rose in the distance, coming their way this time.
Baatar started wiping his scent all over Dyson’s clothes. “No more time. You are strong. You can do this, Baby Girl. Go!”
She took off running, plenty of adrenaline still racing through her.
Behind her, it sounded like a pack of giants were breaking down trees. Not looking back, she kept spinning her feet as fast as she could.
She would not waste this chance Baatar was affording her.
Please let him escape. Don’t let them kill him.
He was the first person she’d trusted since being dragged away by strangers as a child.
Now, even Baatar would be gone.
Only until he escaped. She had to believe he would make it out.
He’d told her his plan to head northeast, somewhere cold enough to snow. He’d spoken of a place thousands of miles from here.
Where exactly was here besides being in South Texas?
Years of being a bookworm and reading everything she could in outdated magazines would help, but only if she found a map and figured out how to read it. It wasn’t like her captors handed out maps to the camp slaves to keep them in the loop.
She worked her way through the woods, plowing through brambles that tore at her already wrecked clothes. It seemed forever before she found a fence with barbed wire strung tight along the top.
Finding a toehold, she lunged up.
Climbing with no experience was difficult to begin with, but then that whole lack-of-exercise issue reared its ugly head again. She struggled over the top, slicing her hands on the barbs and gritting her teeth to keep from making a sound.
Sweat drizzled down her forehead. If a shifter caught her blood scent, he’d be on her in a second. She flopped to the other side with minimal injuries.
The first taste of freedom took her breath.
Her heart thumped wildly at the idea of leaving these people forever.
Getting back to her feet, she checked her hands and ... the wounds were already healing. What. The. Heck? Now that she thought about it, she rubbed her fingers over what should still be a burning cut across her middle, but it felt fine and little blood stained Baatar’s shirt.
Had the energy that killed Dyson somehow healed her as it ran through her body? She’d think on it later.
Keep moving. Do not stop. She silently repeated the words Baatar would be telling her right now.
The trees thinned out until she reached the river that supplied their water.
She took in the wide expanse of the fast-moving stream flowing around boulders and frothing where the current slammed up against immovable objects. She wore a pair of slip-on flats and had to be careful not to lose them like she had the one time she’d crossed a river when they’d moved on foot to a new work camp. That had been four years back. Or was it five?
No point keeping up with time passing when someone stole every minute of every day from you. One day turned into the next. Work, work and more work, with just enough food and sleep to keep the laborers strong enough to rinse and repeat. The only reason she knew she’d turned twenty-one had been the humiliating physical exam they gave women of childbearing age who they felt were ready to handle a pregnancy.
Choosing what looked to be the best entry point, she ran thirty feet up the bank to start jumping rocks until she had no choice but to drop into the water and wade across a pool that formed above a drop-off. Slogging through the thigh-deep water drained her energy along with her panic.
Finally on the other side, she dragged her soaked body out on the bank and looked back, expecting to see a jackal after her.
Were they all chasing Baatar?
Please be safe, brother.
She had to keep moving.
Like Baatar had pointed out, it would be dark soon. She had no idea exactly where the road would actually be, but she raced forward in what she hoped was the right direction.
&n
bsp; Unlike natural jackals in the wild, the camp shifters weren’t primarily nocturnal, but their eyesight was far superior to hers in the dark.
She had no idea if she had covered a mile or two miles, but she kept rushing on. The waning daylight told her it had been a while since she’d left Baatar. Every step away hurt her heart at leaving him, but she couldn’t argue with his reasoning. When he escaped, he would be faster without her.
But that didn’t ease her worry for him.
As the light dwindled to twilight, everything in the woods around her looked the same. Was she lost? She’d read that lost people often walked in circles.
What if she made a circle and returned to the camp?
She stumbled to her knees, caught her breath and pushed up fast ... only to face another ghost.
This one was an old white guy with a white beard and sad eyes buried in a field of wrinkles. He wore a flannel coat over dark work pants. Clearly, he hadn’t died in Texas in August.
She swiped at the sweat about to run into her eyes.
He held a bucket in one hand.
With the other hand, he pointed to her right.
Unlike the last spirit, who never spoke, she heard this old man’s voice in her head. Take that path.
That happened sometimes, but she’d never seen this old guy before now and some ghosts had been very unhelpful.
Should she trust him?
Exhausted, she muttered to no one in particular, “Screw it. Why question this ghost? Not like I know where I’m going.”
She nodded a thank-you at the glowing farmer and raced away in the direction he’d pointed. Her legs pushed through weeds and bushes, slowing her progress. Please don’t let her end up running straight to the entrance of Camp Misery, as she and Baatar called their prison.
But a half mile away, she reached a highway. A two-lane country road.
Which way now?
Where was that translucent farmer when she could use another map tip?
She felt a little tingle run up her body as she looked right, then left.
Okay then. Instincts were all she had to go on. She faced the center of the road and closed her eyes, then held her arms out to her sides. Her fingertips pointed in each direction the pavement ran. When her left hand tingled, she opened her eyes and headed that way.
