“You should have gone with them and left me.”
“That wasn’t an option.” Brooklyn stiffened.
Porter breathed through his nose, and even though it seemed like he wanted to argue, he stayed quiet.
Brooklyn wasn’t going to fight with him over her decision to look after his safety. There was no use. She didn’t have the heart to leave him for dead, but she was too proud to admit that.
“They’re gonna be fine.” The edge lifted from Porter’s voice. “I’m sure they’re somewhere safe right now, wondering where we are and looking for a way to find us.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said.
He ate his food while Brooklyn moved the drapes aside so she could look out the window. The woods were dense and wide. The trees were a cocoon around them, spanning out in every direction. She saw the fire in front of the shed blink in the distance. Far off past the tree line, a road curved up a hill that connected with a highway.
That’s probably the direction Dawson, Rayce, and Amber had taken the rest of the group.
The empty bowl slid against the nightstand when Porter set it down. Brooklyn felt his gaze on her. She listened closely to the uneven beat of his heart. He licked his lips, took a deep breath, gearing up to speak.
“Let’s get that ointment on you,” she said quickly.
Porter shook his head, teeth set in his lip. He shifted to the side, giving her more room to work. She stooped over him, untying the small knot in the bandage above his collar bone. She was careful, making slow movements to remove the white cloth. The last bit was sticky with menthol and tugged at the stitches as she tried to ease the bandage loose.
“Sorry,” Brooklyn mumbled, lips curling back in a wince when she finally pulled the remainder off.
“Don’t apologize.”
She used a warm washcloth to clean around the long row of black stitches and gently dabbed Plum’s home-made remedy over his wound with her fingertips. The lower point of the cut curved down over his shoulder onto his arm, and the other end almost reached the base of his neck. It would take more time than they had to heal properly.
“How are you gonna travel like this?”
“Well, I’ll use my two legs until we get to a car—then, I’ll probably upgrade to wheels,” Porter said, eyes rolling.
“You know what I mean.”
“I have a few different medications in mind, but I have to wait ‘til we find everyone to worry about that. Until then, I’ll be fine. I’ll keep up.” He reached out and touched the top of her thigh. It was barely there, a sweeping brush of his thumb against her skin. Still, she stepped back after she’d finished wrapping his arm back up.
The night was placid, just as quiet as any other night they’d spent out in the woods. The home she remembered with warm beaches, authentic Mexican food, and suntan lotion didn’t match the arms of towering trees or the cocoon of ferns and oaks. She’d spent enough time in the forest to appreciate it but not enough to be comforted by it.
Brooklyn moved back to the window and distanced herself from the room she was in by losing herself in what was outside. She focused on the hop and thump of a rabbit in the brush, the hoot of an owl, its talons tearing the bark off the branch it was perched on. Her eyes strained, vision sharpening around the image of a tiny mouse scurrying up a tree hundreds of feet away in the dark. Her heart skipped a beat. Excitement climbed up the stairs of her spine. She concentrated, eyes staring out into the darkness, and realized how crisp her sight could be. The clatter of a squirrel in a bush tapped on her eardrums, the sound of the air rushing past a pair of feathered wings.
“Cambria told me about Nicoli and their band of freedom fighters,” Porter said, testing conversation.
Discovering the strengths that had slept peacefully inside her all this time was thrilling. Brooklyn smiled as she glanced back inside. The flame on the wick of the candle was clearer; the shadow it cast across Porter’s bed was too.
“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”
Porter’s lips stirred into a grin. He narrowed his eyes as she turned her attention back to the window.
“Pretty cool? That’s all I get? There must be something interesting going on out there for you to ignore my crippled sorry self.”
“I can see everything,” Brooklyn said. “I can almost see better in the dark than I can during the day. I can’t explain it…it’s like…” She played with her hands and mulled over how to efficiently describe it. “I can focus on certain things with my eyes and others with my ears. I can…I don’t know. I don’t know how I’m doing this, but it’s amazing.”
“Come here,” he said, patting the empty side of the bed. “Let me see.”
She hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether or not she could trust herself to be close to him. She brushed the thought aside and walked around to the other side of the bed. She sat down with her legs crossed, waiting. His heartbeat accelerated as he leaned in to touch her cheek. She heard it prang like a rock bouncing across a frozen lake.
“Incredible,” he whispered over a stifled laugh, warm fingertips settling below her lashes.
Brooklyn’s nose wrinkled. Her gaze shifted around to look at anything else besides Porter. “What?”
“You, in general,” he said quickly. She rolled her eyes, fighting the blush rising into her face. “It seems to me that you’ve learned how to control your pupil dilation.”
“And?”
“And that means you don’t need to adjust to darkness or brightness. Your eyes continuously change throughout the day, I’m guessing. Like a cat.”
Brooklyn heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Plum called me a jumpy cat earlier. Not really feelin’ the label right now.”
“Cats are one of the deadliest stealth predators in the world. You should be flattered.”
She pulled her lips back and hissed at him. He grinned and let his hand drop away from her face.
“Why would, Plum…? Her name’s Plum?”
“Yes, jackass, her name is Plum.”
“Okay,” Porter continued. “Well, why would Plum call you a cat?”
“Because I saw Cambria walking toward us in the woods. She said I had to be some kind of cat to see that well in the dark, and then she started talking about the moon and…” Brooklyn’s voice trickled away.
Porter poked her belly. “And?”
She squirmed, brushing his away. “The moon is red tonight, and she said it was a bad omen.”
The tension between them spiked. She watched him lick nervously across his lips, and he sighed, rich caramel eyes staring up at the ceiling.
“Why did they choose to call us that?” Brooklyn whispered even though she wasn’t sure whether she truly wanted the answer or not.
Porter’s lips parted. “Are you sure you wanna know the details?”
He waited for her to nod and continued.
“Omens were regarded as powerful messages from the gods in most ancient civilizations. They could be anything from a vase breaking to a massive tidal wave washing away a village, but the people…the people listened to them. They feared them. Every omen demanded respect, and when they came they brought—” he shook his head until the right word came to mind “—chaos. But chaos always evolved into order even if it was only for a short time.”
“So,” Brooklyn said. “We’re here to send a message?”
Porter tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, basically. But what’s the typical message in tactical warfare?”
The realization was ice cold and branched out through the rest of her body. It froze her bones, chilled her insides, a distinct, dreadful presence that she couldn’t swallow down.
“Assassination,” Brooklyn said.
“Yes, a target is given; an Omen is dispatched. That’s it.”
“Just like that…”
“Yeah. Just like that.”
Brooklyn wanted to run as fast as she could and as far as she could. She wanted to put her boots on and go, go until she couldn’t go anymore.
Nothing about what Porter said could possibly be linked to her. She wasn’t a killer, much less a trained assassin…she couldn’t be and she wouldn’t be.
The generator in the cellar came to a rumbling halt, and the small lamp on the nightstand dimmed until it was completely out. A couple candles continued to burn, but the rest of the bedroom went dark.
“Cambria told me the generator was set to go off at midnight,” Porter said.
“Oh.” Brooklyn glanced around the room. “Okay.”
“It’s late, and we should probably get some rest. There are a couple other rooms with beds that Cambria said would be fine for you to sleep in.”
Brooklyn sat stationary with her legs crossed and her hands in her lap. Her tawny eyes that usually held such distrust and hostility were lost in the sheets of the bed. Thoughts flew by in her mind, building scenes and pictures that she could never see herself in but were created just for her. Thoughts of what it would be like to be an occupational murderer. How had they chosen her, Brooklyn Harper, of all people? How had a doctor looked at her when she was a toddler, decided her life would be riddled with violence, and had handed her a lollipop on the way out?
“Or you could always sleep in here if you want,” Porter offered.
Brooklyn didn’t answer. She slid down under the covers and felt the mattress dip comfortably around her. Her toes flexed. She rubbed her cheek into the squish of a feather pillow.
Porter set his glasses down on the nightstand and lay down on his side to face her. They stayed like that, looking at one another in the dark until Porter reached out and touched the line of her jaw with his thumb.
“You’re gonna be okay,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes and waited for the brush of his lips against hers.
But it never came.
“I promise,” he added. His breath, warm, stained with the scent of berries, drifted across her cheek.
She didn’t remember falling asleep, but when sleep did come, it was peaceful.
Chapter Twenty
Birds sang in the trees outside, and the smell of fresh pine filled the air. They’d left the window open, letting the chill in overnight, but Brooklyn was burrowed underneath the covers, feeling impossibly warm. Her heavy eyes refused to open even as her good night’s sleep started to fade away. Lean legs stretched out, and her hips moved slightly until she felt the press of Porter’s torso against her back.
She stopped moving altogether and cracked her eyes open to look down at the large hand resting comfortably on the top of her stomach. His arm tightened around her—his breath ghosted along the back of her neck.
“Awake already?” Porter rasped.
Brooklyn melted back into his embrace. “Not really.”
Her shirt was rucked up and bundled at her ribs with his hand gripping bare skin just beneath. The press of something cold and small rubbed against her hairline. Brooklyn whined in protest.
“Your hair smells good,” Porter said.
She smiled and tried to twist around to face him, but a loud, shrill, very familiar voice startled her into pulling the comforter tighter around them.
“Okay, gross! I’m going to gag, and then I’m going to shoot both of you,” Gabriel hollered from her place in the doorway. She twirled a small silver gun in her hand, craning to look around the room. She stepped inside and gasped when the bathroom came into clear view.
“You guys have a shower! That’s not fair! How…?” Her words trailed off as she spotted Brooklyn’s dry under garments hanging from the top of the glass shower door.
“Gabriel! What the hell are you doing here? We were sleeping!” Brooklyn seethed.
“Holy shit,” Gabriel said, lips curled back. Her hair whipped over her shoulders as she spun to face the bed, gun high and pointed at Porter.
“Are you naked? Is she naked, Porter? If she’s naked, I’m going to shoot you in the throat.”
Brooklyn sat straight up, swatting Porter’s hand away so she could pull down her shirt. A hot blush tinged her cheeks, and her lips set in a tight line. Not only was she thoroughly humiliated, but she was fuming with anger.
“I’m not naked, Gabriel! You’re being ridiculous—put the gun down!”
Porter lifted his hands and showed his palms. “This is not how I saw this morning going.”
“Oh, yeah? And how did you see it going? Please, enlighten me, you vile piece of…”
“Gabriel!” Brooklyn interrupted with a loud shout. She walked in front of Gabriel’s outstretched arms, blocking the gun. “Give that to me. Now.”
Brooklyn held her hand out and waited. Her whole body quivered; adrenaline pumped fast through her veins, clouding the overwhelming amount of anxiety that constricted her lungs.
Gabriel stared at her for a long minute before she finally handed the gun over. Brooklyn manhandled her inside the bathroom, slamming the door behind them.
“I want to strangle you,” Brooklyn whispered as she set the gun down on the edge of the sink. “Why would you do that? Why would you come storming in here? I can’t even…I can’t believe you! I was fine!”
“Did you sleep with him?” Gabriel laughed. Her eyes widened, and she wore a nasty grin.
She didn’t think her face could get any more red, but Brooklyn felt her cheeks beam with even more heat. “No! I did not sleep with him!”
“Did you want to?”
Gabriel’s whispered prying took Brooklyn off guard. She stuttered over an answer that she didn’t know how to give. She stared back at her friend, mouth open, fingertips twitching. It wasn’t that she couldn’t say “no;” she could have. But if she was lying, Gabriel would know—she always knew.
“I don’t know.” Brooklyn bit down on her lip hard.
Gabriel threw her head back and laughed, which in turn made Brooklyn extremely self-conscious.
Brooklyn shoved Gabriel aside, reaching for the clothes she’d left there. She stripped off the shirt and gym shorts so she could put her now clean underwear back on followed by the tight beige tank top and jeans.
“You can’t want to sleep with him—he’s Judas.” Gabriel rolled her eyes. She grabbed the shampoo bottle from inside the shower and popped open the top, inhaling the sweet scent.
“Can we please not talk about this right now?” Brooklyn groaned.
“I’m your best friend, Brookie! I’m supposed to be your voice of reason here, okay? Like, let me help you and him because if he touches you I’ll be forced to rip his tongue out.”
“Stop it.”
“Oh, come on. I’m joking, sort of.”
“I’m going to brush my teeth, and you’re going to apologize to Porter,” Brooklyn said sternly.
Gabriel arched a brow. “No.”
“Yes!” Brooklyn yelled, shoving the toothbrush in her mouth before she swung the door back open. “I don’t give a shit about what happened. I’m done wasting my time trying to hate him, so do this one stupid favor for me, and get along with him!”
Gabriel looked like a toddler who’d been sent to time out. Her plump pink lips folded down into a bitter frown, and she crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. Brooklyn glared at her from the mirror until she finally gave up and stomped out into the bedroom.
Porter blinked wide, confused eyes at her as Gabriel sucked in one of her cheeks and chewed on it.
“I’m sorry,” she said coldly. “You’re still a dick, though.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me. That’s the last thing you should be doing,” Porter said.
“Whatever. Breakfast is ready, so get your asses out of the love shack, and meet us at the shed.”
Brooklyn tried to throw a boot at her, but Gabriel dodged it, laughing all the way down the hall.
Brooklyn stayed in the bathroom for as long as she could and chomped on her nails the whole time. She kept looking in the mirror, hoping the dark blush would fade from her cheeks, but it was still there, plaguing her with embarrassment.
The cushioned squeak of
the bed alerted her to Porter’s movements. His bare feet padded toward the bathroom, but he stopped just outside and tapped on the open door.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Brooklyn brushed past him as she walked by. “Yeah,” she lied, “I’m good.”
Porter didn’t press her, which she thoroughly appreciated.
He slid in front of the sink and started brushing his teeth while Brooklyn sat down on the bed and laced up her boots. They avoided speaking to each other for the rest of the morning. It was easier that way, but it wasn’t hard to pick out the giant white elephant poised in the corner of the room. Once they were both fully dressed, they headed down into the woods. The walk back to the shed was tense and quiet. Brooklyn felt his gaze on her and the silent questions he asked, but she ignored it.
Plum spotted them approaching as she adjusted some clothes hanging on the line. She gave a toothy smile. “Well, good mornin’. You must be Porter, I’m guessin’?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Porter said and extended his hand.
She gave it a dainty shake. “Good to see you’re up and movin’. I’m Plum.”
“Nice to meet you, Plum.”
“Same to you, sweetie. Nicoli’s at the territory line, waitin’ for everybody to get back from the city.” She swept her hand toward the door of the shed. “Go on in, and get somethin’ to eat. I’m sure Cambria made some real nice breakfast.”
Brooklyn heard Julian laugh from the shed and walked inside with Porter at her heels.
Plants hung from the ceiling in woven baskets. Their vines tickled Brooklyn’s cheek as she dipped her head around them. A small, round wooden table was in the middle of the room accompanied by three matching chairs. A long table was pushed against the left wall. Shelves filled with vials, books, plants, and flowers hung on all four walls, and an old metal radio sat on the ground under the table next to a space heater.
Gabriel drank tea and picked sliced fruit out of a large communal bowl in the center of the table.
Cambria pointed to a few pieces of seedy bread on the table and smiled to them. “Have some bread and fruit salad. Did you two sleep okay last night?”
Omen Operation Page 12
