by S. J. Pierce
I scan the road for her car, but there’s not one. What is she doing all the way out here on foot? We’re miles from town.
Unease settles into my bones, and I shift my car into reverse.
I whip my head around to back up, and once I’ve shifted into drive, she’s closer to my car, her unnatural, lopsided smile the thing of nightmares.
What the…?
I swallow.
Roll up my window.
Punch the gas to head back into town.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I see her shrinking in the review mirror. Who was that? Why can’t I place her?
I turn on the radio to ease my nerves. Breathe another sigh of relief. Reach for my phone to call my sister and tell her what happened.
I then notice my purse dumped into the floor. Ugh. From when I braked.
I sigh and reach for the strap to try and haul it onto the seat. I manage to hook it with my finger. Find the phone. Press the side button. “Siri, call sister.”
She dials, and the speakers in the car buzz to life with the sound of a ringing phone.
I check my rearview again, something needling me to. Something isn’t right.
A pair of solid black eyes greet me, a headful of fire-red hair filling the mirror. She smiles her crooked smile.
I scream.
“Hello?” my sister says through the speaker. “Rhee?”
The last thing I remember is the woman in my backseat raising her hand.
My world goes black.
* * *
A sudden jolt wakes me, and as I lift into consciousness, I’m aware of three things. One, I’m upright, the right side of my face smushing into something cold and unforgiving. Glass? Two, not only am I strapped into this seat…my backseat…zip-ties bind my wrists and ankles. Three, I’m as nauseous as I am terrified. The throbbing sensation across my skull suggests I’ve been bludgeoned with something. Concussion. Which explains the nausea.
Slowly, my eyes pry open, the grey light of evening stabbing into them like icepicks. The throbbing worsens in protest.
I try not to make a noise when I get a good look at who’s driving, but my breath catches and it’s enough of a change for her to pick up on it. The woman with the red hair.
Her black marbles for eyes consult with the rearview mirror. Bore into me like a drill rig. “Rhee.” She says my name the way a scorned atheist speaks of a believer’s prayers, and it’s then I know who she is. “I see you’re awake.”
I want to cower. I want to scream for help. I want to start thinking of a way out of this. But all I can manage as our eyes lock is to shoot a defiant look. What the hell are you doing with me?
But I know what she’s doing with me. She’s getting her twisted version of revenge.
She and I have unfinished business.
Naomi focuses back on the road. “I bet you’re wondering where we’re going, huh?”
I look down to study my zip-ties. I saw something once on how to get out of these. I struggle against them. Try to remember.
My frantic gaze travels to the front of the car. A gun lies on the console.
I blanch.
She pistol-whipped me. What else is she planning to do with that thing?
The car jostles as she cuts a sharp turn onto a dirt road.
I grimace as the movement makes my head swim. My stomach churns.
Where is she taking me?
“Have nothing to say?”
I ignore her.
“That’s fine. I don’t really need you to.”
I punch the unlock button. Pull at the handle.
She laughs. “Child safety locks.”
Shit.
I fall to my side so I can lift my legs. Maybe I can kick the glass out.
She slams the brakes.
I fall forward like a ragdoll, the seatbelt biting into my torso. I grit my teeth to prevent a yelp, but it comes out anyway.
She whips around with the gun in her grip, aiming at my forehead. “I suggest you don’t.”
I glare back at her but comply.
When she’s satisfied I won’t do anything stupid, she tosses the gun in the passenger seat and continues down the road.
I then think of my sister. Of when I called her. She heard me scream…right? She had to. Called Barnett and the others.
It’s the only hope I have…if they can find where we’re at in time.
I fight back tears at the thought. I can’t let her see me cry.
“This is happening, Rhee. Like it or not.”
The only bad thing is Naomi also knows my sister might have heard me. Surely, she’s also anticipating some interference.
I need to stall somehow. Give them time.
I finally speak. “What’s happening?”
The sound of my voice seems to irritate her, her features in the mirror hardening. “You’ll see.”
“Why?” I ask, attempting to mask the fear in my voice but failing miserably.
“Because it’s all I have.”
I don’t ask what that means. I then think of Alicia. Did they get the wrong person? She confessed, though. “Were you the one who was writing all the love notes?”
A cackle. “Yes. And no.”
Huh?
“I was behind it. Alicia helped.”
Oh.
“Something like this, outsmarting the Sheriff and the hunters, getting to you, wasn’t a one-woman job.”
So, Alicia confessed, throwing them off their trail and creating a false sense of safety, and in turn, freed Naomi up to get to me. I guess it’s safe to say, then, my initial assumption was right—they didn’t want me to leave town simply because they wanted me gone. They wanted to meet me on the road, miles away from the others, so they could kidnap me.
“She volunteered to follow you around and write the ‘love notes’. Meanwhile, I stayed put in our cabin, so we only left one scent trail. It was important the wolves think it was only one witch at work.”
Clever. “Are you taking me to the cabin?”
“Boy, you’re full of questions,” she taunts. She waits a moment before she answers. “Unless I think of another place I’d like to do this.”
I reel. Think of something else to keep her talking.
My lips part to ask if Trenton is involved in this too, but I decide against saying his name. It might trigger her.
Besides, does it really matter? Something tells me he’s not, anyway. Guys don’t hold onto shit this long and let it fester. And apparently take up witchcraft, go rogue…way rogue (she changed her hair color, appearance, everything)…and quietly plan revenge for however long. Word of my dad’s funeral must have been so exciting for them. They knew I’d be coming home, and they’d have their shot.
It would all be a little sad, honestly, if I wasn’t scared out of my mind because I’m presumably about to die a horrible, horrible death.
I rock sideways to sit up again. Grimace at the way my head pounds with the sudden movement. Bad idea.
Something in the woods, a flash of something russet, to my right catches my eye, but Naomi is driving so fast, it’s hard to tell what it is. A deer? Bear?
Wolf?
“Nothing else to ask?” she says.
Keep her talking. “Yeah, I-”
“Okay good.” She punches the radio button and blares the first song to come on: Achy Breaky Heart.
Well…that’s annoyingly appropriate.
A flash of grey in woods to my left. A wolf. Wolves.
I thrill at the idea.
Minutes pass, and nothing happens, my hope waning.
She takes a hard right onto another road.
It’s then I realize I haven’t seen any other cars or houses. This cabin must be isolated.
No one to hear your screams.
I shift in my seat. Swallow against the fear.
Don’t let her see it.
I search the woods again.
Nothing.
Sink into the seat.
We t
ake a left.
30
Familiar Smell
The vibration of the car along the dirt road is lulling me into a concussion nap, but I fight against it. I know it’s bad to fall asleep concussed.
Not to mention, I shouldn’t make it easy for her to kill me. She’d like that, I’m sure—no struggle. A clean, easy, satisfying kill.
My eyes groggily sweep to hers in the mirror.
I don’t remember them being dark before.
Blue. They were blue.
Black magic must have turned them.
I shudder at the thought.
No. She won’t like a clean, easy kill. She’ll want me to suffer. Will get off on it.
My heavy eyelids droop, and I tilt my head back. Force them open.
Stay awake.
The car slows, and she turns again.
I manage to pick up my head to see if there are any signs of a cabin. Any clue we’re near the end of our drive.
Just another road.
I sigh and return to staring at the ceiling. Achy Breaky Heart ends, and Crazy by Patsy Cline begins.
I snort, and I don’t care enough to check and see if Naomi notices.
I’m sure she did.
Without warning, she screams at the top of her lungs, jolting me upright, and slams on the breaks.
The car skids across dirt and rocks, our world tilting to the left as my car goes up on two wheels.
I don’t get the chance to see why she’s braking before we fall the rest of the way over, the roof crunching above me, the car skidding into wiry trees. Rolling again. A kaleidoscope of brown and green and grey through the windows as time inside the cabin seems to come to a screeching halt. My lips part to scream, but nothing comes out, my chest heavy. Throat tight like someone is squeezing it into a vice.
Blackness seeps into the edges of my vision.
When the car finally stops, no sounds but the clinking of a hot engine, I manage to look in her direction, and she’s hanging limp from her seatbelt. Blood stretches and drips onto the ceiling below her, mingling with her red hair.
Something crunches in the brush outside her window. Her door flings off its hinges.
I try to scream again but can’t.
I’m fading, the blackness taking over.
A set of bared teeth rip into her seatbelt to get her out. A coppery muzzle. Intense eyes.
A wolf…
Right as my eyes close, my door flings open too, and a pair of strong arms reach in and gingerly cut at the belts digging into my legs and throat. “Hang on,” a voice says. A familiar voice.
A familiar smell. Spicy and sweaty and….
Before his name can situate itself on the tip of my tongue, I’m out again.
* * *
I wake briefly to the sound of twigs snapping. Branches lash into me. Fur beneath me. Brown fur.
Russet.
Like the first flash of color I saw in the woods.
I’ve been slung over the back of something.
Muscles work hard beneath me. Heat and heavy breathing. Running.
Wolf. Jaxson?
His was the voice I heard before I passed out.
Wind whips through my hair.
I grip his fur, then my hands loosen as I start to fade again.
It propels him faster.
* * *
This time when I wake, I’m in a bed.
A hard bed, the air cold and smelling of commercial grade cleaners.
When my eyes pry open, I’m in a stark, clinical-looking room, and a whiteboard in front of me displays a name in black marker—Danae Sharpe. Nurse.
Memories of the kidnapping, the crash, the wolves saving me, come barreling in, and I try to sit up with a gasp. The movement is weak, arms shaking against the mattress, so I lie back down.
The noise startles someone to my right. He sits erect.
Jaxson.
His puffy eyes sweep over me. He was sleeping in the chair next to me. “You okay?” We’re the only ones in the room.
I take a moment to catch my breath and calm my racing heart, and my eyes move past him to the window. It’s dark out. “What day is it?”
He quickly punches out a text on his phone. “Late Sunday.”
“Like…I’ve been out for a week?”
A kind smile. “Like a couple hours.”
Oh.
“You feel okay?” he repeats.
My hand involuntarily searches over the back of my head. It’s tender. There’s a knot. But my headache and nausea are gone.
Something pulls at the skin on my other wrist, and that’s when I notice the IV. Meds. I study the angry red branch lashings on my hands and forearms. Where did I…?
Oh, right. When he was carrying me through the woods to get me here. Or more like hauling ass. “I’m okay.” Thanks to him.
We sit in silence.
“Thank you,” I finally say, and I can’t help the tears forming in my eyes. He not only saved my life, he saved Carson and my sister from more devastation.
He leans into the bed, eyes urgent. “So, you remember what happened?”
I nod.
“We got to you as fast as we could.” His voice breaks a little. “It was almost too late.”
I look at him questioningly.
“You were almost to her and Alicia’s cabin.”
I then wanted to ask how they were able to track Naomi down so fast, that many miles out, if they’d never smelled her scent before (they were tracking Alicia before), but then I realized…
It wasn’t her scent they were tracking; it was mine. And who knew mine better than Jaxson?
My cheeks flame.
I attempt a joke. “But I thought I told you to never speak to me again?”
His eyebrows pinch together with confusion, and then he realizes I’m kidding. “Well…who else was going to save your ass? The hunters weren’t doing a very good job on their own.”
I chuckle. Touché.
And for a fleeting moment, the chasm between us feels smaller. My anger toward him not so important. I guess almost dying will do that.
Interrupting, my sister bursts into the room. She’s wearing a set of navy scrubs, face tight with concern. She immediately scoops up my hand and assesses how I am. Ever the momma. Ever the nurse.
Jaxson quietly exits the room to give us privacy. My lips part to ask him to stay, but I can’t find the words.
“He texted me. Said you just woke.”
“I did.”
“He was watching you while I was on shift.” Her eyes soften at the idea.
I know, I know. Good guy.
Who saved my life.
A man with a splash of grey in his hair and a white coat walks in. “I heard our patient is awake?”
Maddie steps aside.
He unhooks the stethoscope from around his neck and plugs it into his ears. My heart and lungs sound fine. My pupils are responding well to his tiny flashlight. He presses on my bruised abdomen. Comments how I’ll be bruised and sore and stiff, but nothing’s broken.
They discharge me shortly after with some pain and anti-nausea meds, and Maddie drives me to her apartment on her break.
Jaxson is nowhere to be found.
After she gets me settled onto her pull out sofa in the living room, she calls Barnett and asks if he can take Carson to school in the morning. He stayed with him last night. And then once she’s satisfied I’m comfortable and okay, she gives me some pain pills and leaves me to my sleep.
I’m out in minutes.
31
Holy Shitstorm
I wake to Maddie beside me, asleep in her scrubs. It’s eleven o’clock in the morning, and I felt like I’ve slept for a week…minus the stiffness they warned me about.
I gingerly slide out of bed, trying not to jostle her awake, and shuffle to the bathroom for my morning business.
By the time I return, she’s sitting erect, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Sorry,” I say.
<
br /> She throws a hand up. “All good. Light sleeper.”
She’s a mom.
“Coffee?” she says, heading to the kitchen.
“I can get it. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m good. I need to run errands today anyway.”
“Want me to go with?”
She snorts. “You need to rest.”
I do.
I slide back into bed. I feel well-rested, but my body….
Bitch, my thoughts hiss, thinking of Naomi.
“More pain meds?” she asks from the kitchen.
“No thanks. I’m gonna try to leave for home tonight.”
She tsks. “Rhee. You can’t be serious. You need to stay at least a couple more days.”
“What? I need to get back.”
“You almost died. I already called your boss. Give yourself time.”
“It’s not that long of a drive.”
She sighs defeatedly. “Fine. At least wait ‘til I get back so I can check you out again before you go?”
I debate.
“I won’t be long. I’ll only be gone a couple hours. You’ll be out of here by four.”
“Okay, deal.”
She beams as she heads to her closet to get dressed.
Speaking of Naomi…
“Have you heard anything about my fan club?”
She shoots a questioning look.
“Naomi and Alicia.”
A cringe. “Well…Naomi…she didn’t quite. Make it.”
“Make it?”
She makes a slicing gesture across her throat.
Oh.
“The wolves?”
She nods.
“And Alicia?”
“They have her locked up still. No bail. They plan on offering her up to the High Priestess for a decision on what should be done with her.”
I nod numbly, look through her windows into the rain.
“Phaedra was as surprised as everyone else that Naomi was involved.”
“Really? I wasn’t.”
“She was. She hadn’t heard from her in a couple years. Naomi started practicing with them a couple years before that. Then Naomi told her one day it wasn’t for her. Nothing unusual about it, just said she wanted to find another town, another life, after her and Trenton split up.”
So, they were split this whole time, and my suspicions were right—he had nothing to do with her plans. Him taunting me about her at the bar, then, was just him doing what he does best—acting like a dick.
