The Rising dr-3

by Kelley Armstrong

  He scowled. “Thanks.”

  “It’s a fact, not an insult. Stop being so damned sensitive and take off your shirt.”

  We switched tops with a remarkable lack of further muttering on his part. I tucked my long hair under it, so from a distance, it would look short. There were more trees in front of us—too widely spaced for us to climb through, but they cast plenty of shadowy shade. On the other side was a playground, then another parking lot. Lots of obstacles in both. My plan was for us to just walk out of the park, as casually as possible, using what cover we could.

  It wasn’t a great plan, but if our sensitive hearing picked up a cry or approaching footfalls, we should have time to run. They wouldn’t use a tranq gun in a public park. Not with a scattering of parents and little kids over in the playground. Or so I hoped.

  “Okay, now hold my hand,” I said.

  Ash looked at me like I’d asked him to swallow live bugs.

  “I’m your sister,” I said. “If I have cooties, they’re the same as yours.”

  When he stuck out his hand, he looked like he was getting ready to arm wrestle. I took it, and he tensed, biceps flexing, stance widening.

  I sighed. “I’m not going to throw you over my shoulder.”

  He snorted, as if such a thing was beyond the realm of possibility. I was briefly tempted to show him otherwise. Instead, I wrapped my hand around his fist and we set out, a teenage couple strolling through the park.

  We wandered, talking. Or I talked, to the point where another couple of guys passing by shot him sympathetic looks.

  As we approached the playground, I whispered, “We’ll get behind that big slide structure, then hurry to the parking lot.”

  He let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. We stepped into the park. A little girl stopped swinging to watch us. I smiled at her and she grinned back. When Ash looked over, the girl stopped smiling and jumped off to run to her mother.

  “Can you try not to frighten small children?” I whispered.

  He grunted and kicked up wood chips as we walked alongside the play structure, moving into the shade behind it. Only a quick dash to the parking lot, and—

  I caught a movement to my left and looked to see someone standing about fifty meters away, by the edge of the woods. A teenage guy in a suit. Staring at us.

  Brendan.

  I’d forgotten about Brendan.

  Could I make it to him? Just long enough to pass on a message?

  What message? What could I possibly tell him in thirty seconds or less that wouldn’t just make matters worse?

  Not even thirty seconds—two of the searchers were heading straight for him. Walking fast, as if they’d just realized they had a Salmon Creek kid on the loose.

  I ripped my gaze from Brendan. He hadn’t recognized me. Couldn’t. Not from this distance. Not with Ash. Not when I was supposed to be—

  “Maya?” Brendan called.

  I didn’t look over. Ash did, then swore. He pulled his fist from my hand and grabbed my wrist instead, yanking me along as he broke into a jog.

  “Maya!” Brendan yelled.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I said, tripping as I tried to pull free from Ash’s grip.

  “He can’t help you and I’m not letting you do something stupid—”

  “Like breaking into a run and letting him know it really is me?”

  He cursed as he realized his mistake and slowed.

  “Too late now,” I muttered, grabbing his elbow. “Run!”

  We raced into the parking lot as shouts and cries rang out behind us.

  I didn’t hear Brendan’s voice again. I think they must have gotten to him, bustling him off before he was absolutely sure of what he’d seen. Who he’d seen. I hoped so. Really hoped so. I didn’t want to think what they’d do if he insisted that he’d spotted me.

  We should have thought of that—what would happen if someone saw us and we couldn’t warn them to keep quiet? We were so desperate that I think Ash was right—we were being reckless, however hard we tried not to be.

  We escaped the park. If you have enough of these encounters, eventually that’s all it comes down to. Was anyone captured? Anyone hurt? No and no. Then it’s not worthy of comment. We’d had a good enough lead on our pursuers, and by the time they got vehicles to come after us, we were gone.

  We returned to Stanley Park. We’d left our bag of extra clothes and supplies hidden there. The guys would come back.

  We returned around seven, after two hours on buses, transferring and retransferring just in case we were being followed. I expected the guys to be at our campsite when we returned. When they weren’t, we settled in to wait.

  We’d been there for about thirty minutes in silence, which only added to the hours of silence since we’d escaped at the park. I’d tried several times on the bus to strike up conversation with Ash. It was met either with suspicion—what does it matter where I’ve lived?—or sarcasm—hobbies? sports? yeah, did I mention the varsity baseball and country club? By this point, I began to suspect “what’s your favorite color” would be seen as intrusive. So I stopped trying.

  “What’s it like?” Ash said finally as we sat on the logs around our nonexistent campfire.

  “Hmm?”

  “Shifting into a mountain lion. What’s it feel like? Hurts like hell, I bet.”

  When I didn’t answer in the next two seconds, his face darkened. “I was just curious. Skin-walkers are supposed to be extinct. Not a lot of people I can ask.”

  “I was trying to decide how to describe it. I know you’re not happy to be here, Ash. I don’t know what you expected. Not me, that’s obvious. Maybe you’re pissed because you came all this way and I don’t seem grateful. I am. I really am. But I can’t figure out a way to show that without pissing you off all the more. You’ve got your back up and there’s no way I’m getting it down.”

  “Do I?” His eyes narrowed. “Huh. Let me ask you this, Maya. In all these years, when you were growing up in your perfect town, with your perfect friends and your perfect parents, did you even think about me? Wonder where I was? Worry about me? Or were you just happy you didn’t need to share all that? Because I’ve been thinking about you for as long as I can remember. Asking our mother about you. Wondering what happened to you. So, yeah, I dropped everything to come up here. And you really don’t seem to give a shit.”

  I took a deep breath and considered my words before speaking.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  He tensed, waiting for more, waiting for the snap, the growl, the snarl. When I said he had his back up, I hadn’t meant that as a skin-walker jab. But now, when I looked at him, it was an apt description. His back was up, at least metaphorically. Fur bristling. Eyes glittering. Lip curled. Ready to bite my head off. When I didn’t respond in kind, he just sat there, tense and waiting.

  “I didn’t know about you.” I spoke the words carefully, trying not to sound defensive. “I should have explained that better. I only found out a week ago that I had a brother. Rafe’s the one who told me, when he told me about being a skin-walker.”

  Silence. Then, “Right.” More silence. He shifted on the log. “Makes sense. It’s not like she left a note with you.”

  “No. She didn’t. But . . . after Rafe told me, I felt . . . guilty, I think. That I didn’t know about you. Like I should have remembered you.”

  “We were only a few months old.”

  I shrugged. “It feels as if I should have known. Like in stories where someone grows up feeling like something’s missing, then they discover they had a twin.”

  Silence.

  “When I found out, I did think of you. Maybe not as much as I should have. When I thought of you, I felt . . .” I searched for the right words. “I won’t say jealous, because I don’t remember our mother and mine is great—I wouldn’t trade her for anything. But it hurt, growing up knowing I’d been abandoned. Finding out there’d been two of us and I wasn’t the one she’d chosen? That
really hurt.”

  I sighed and stretched my legs. “I’m sorry. That was all I wanted to say. I didn’t want to make excuses, which is what I’m doing.” I looked over at him. “I am glad you came.”

  He mumbled something and got to his feet. He walked away, and I wanted to go after him, but I knew it wasn’t that easy. One little discussion wasn’t going to make everything better. It wasn’t just about him feeling hurt and me feeling hurt. We were brother and sister—twins—and yet we were strangers. If it wasn’t for that blood tie, we’d probably have chosen to remain strangers. That hurt, too, but again, it couldn’t be fixed with a few words.

  “You want dinner?” he said.

  I shook my head. “I should stay for the guys. If you could pick me up something, though, I’d appreciate that.”

  I was quick to pull out a twenty, so he wouldn’t think I was asking him to pay, but he still grumbled.

  “Or I can run out for something after you get back,” I said.

  “I’m not bitching because you asked me to grab you food, Maya. ’Course I will. But you shouldn’t stay here alone, not when it looks like they’ve nabbed your friends.”

  That’s what I’d been thinking, of course. What I’d been trying very, very hard not to think, because if I did, I’d slide into a full-blown panic. When Ash put that fear into words, I stiffened.

  He sighed. “Yeah, you don’t want to hear that. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. But if the Cabals have your friends, they might have gotten them to tell where they could find you.”

  “They wouldn’t—”

  “Let me try that again. They might have gotten Corey to tell them. Daniel wouldn’t rat you out unless they stuck red hot pins under his nails, and probably not even then.”

  I glanced up at his face to see if he was being sarcastic. He wasn’t.

  “You guys are tight,” he said. “Friends or whatever. But while Corey might be a good and loyal friend, he’s not made of the same stuff as you two. I’m not saying he’s a coward or anything. He’s just . . . They could talk him into it. Tell him lies and shit until he really thinks he’s saving your life by helping them find you.”

  Corey wouldn’t be so quick to cave, but if they separated him from Daniel, he’d be uncertain, lost. He’d try hard to do the right thing, but eventually, they might be able to convince him that turning me in was the right thing. Especially if they knew I was with Ash. Corey hadn’t trusted him. It wouldn’t take much to convince him Ash was a traitor sent to turn me over to some even worse fate.

  “I can leave a note,” I said. “We have a pen and paper in our bag.”

  “Good. Just don’t tell them where we’re going.”

  “Can I draw a map?”

  Now it was his turn to look over, to see if I was serious. I smiled and he shook his head, but I caught a hint of a return smile there before he told me to hurry it up.

  FIFTEEN

  THE CITY OF VANCOUVER is on a peninsula, bounded on three sides by water, so you usually need to cross a bridge to get from the suburbs to downtown. If you take the Lions Gate bridge—preferably not at rush hour—you drive through Stanley Park. That meant we had a pleasant evening stroll through the park to get downtown. Or I did. Ash seemed a lot more comfortable in the city proper.

  By the time we arrived downtown, night had fallen. That made Ash anxious, but it didn’t bother me. It was downtown Vancouver. As long as we didn’t stray into a few bad pockets, we were fine.

  I was wise enough to avoid suggesting sushi, but I did mention a falafel stand a few blocks away. From the look Ash gave me, that was just as bad. He wanted a burger. I knew a couple places that served amazing gourmet versions, including one just a block over that Daniel loved. But ten-dollar burgers were not on the budget, and even if I would have liked to treat Ash, he would have taken it the wrong way. So we settled for A&W.

  Afterward, as we walked, Ash said, “You mentioned buying a prepaid cell earlier.”

  “Right.”

  “We should do that. In case you and I get separated.” He paused. “Or for your friends. Uh, when they get back.”

  “You really think they were—” My chest tightened and I couldn’t get the rest out.

  “If they were, we’ll deal. For now, you need that phone.”

  I peered down a street of closed shops and scattered bars. “It’s a little late . . .”

  “Corner stores sell them these days. Just gotta find one.”

  I wasn’t sure that applied in Canada. We didn’t have nearly as many cell providers as they did in the States. But I nodded and let him lead the way down the next street.

  We’d gone down four blocks and into two corner stores with no luck. I wanted to ask the clerks if they knew where to buy a phone, but Ash wouldn’t let me near the counter. I suggested he ask. He just rolled his eyes, as if I was naive to think they’d be helpful.

  At the third store, a guy was outside talking to himself. Harmless, I was sure, but Ash insisted I go inside with him, though I had to wait by the door.

  I heard the drunk guys before I saw them. They were loud enough that feline hearing was not required. They stopped outside the store and peered in. I stepped out of their line of sight, but not before I got a look at them. College guys, wearing sports jerseys and sloppy grins. They slammed the door open hard enough to make the clerk wince.

  “Hey!” one yelled as he walked in—though the clerk wasn’t more than a couple meters away. “We want beer. You got beer?”

  “We do not sell alcohol in these shops. You must go to a liquor store.”

  In unison, two of them repeated the guy’s words, exaggerating his accent. I shook my head. Tourists. There were a couple of provinces that sold alcohol in corner stores, but I was guessing these were Americans. Our lower drinking age is a draw. Which was not to say that all drunken louts are obviously American—only the ones who didn’t realize they couldn’t buy beer in any store.

  I’d moved back as far as I could without hiding, but when they took another step, they could see me.

  “I bet she knows where we can find beer,” said the redhead in front. “Hey, cutie, make you a deal. Tell us where to find some and you can come drinking with us.”

  “No, thank you,” I said, straightening, so it wouldn’t look like I was shrinking against the shelves.

  “What makes you think she’d know where to find booze?” Ash came around the counter, gaze fixed on the guys as he moved between me and them.

  I whispered for him to let it go, keeping my voice low enough that only he’d hear. He knew exactly why these guys thought I’d know where to find alcohol, but this really wasn’t the time for a lesson in racial stereotyping.

  Ash kept moving forward. Stalking forward, like a cat, eyes on his prey, muscles tight, almost gliding across the floor, smooth and silent. The guys just snickered and jostled each other.

  “Do you want a chocolate bar before we go?” I said to Ash. “I’m going to grab one.”

  His head whipped my way, eyes narrowed in a “What the hell?” look. I was trying to diffuse the situation. Of course, he didn’t see that. He probably thought I was standing there, being insulted, and honestly thinking, You know, I’d like some chocolate.

  “You go do that, cutie,” the redhead said. “We’ll get rid of your boyfriend for you.”

  “I’m her brother,” Ash said.

  “Oh? Good. So then you won’t mind if I . . .” He suggested something we could do together. It wasn’t “go see a movie.” He got about halfway through before Ash took a swing at him. I was already mid-pounce and grabbed Ash’s arm before it made contact. When I wrenched it back, he wheeled on me, lips curled in a snarl.

  “You want to fight?” I whispered under my breath. “Fine. But if you do, I’ll need to run before the cops show up.”

  He blinked and removed my hand from his arm. Then he nodded and rolled his shoulders. I could feel the rage pulsing off him. The drunk guys just stood there, snickering and lobbing
insults. I zeroed in on the fourth guy, a blond who was hanging back, looking uncomfortable. I propelled Ash toward him, saying, “Excuse me,” and he moved aside. I bustled Ash past before the others could block our escape.

  “Morons,” Ash muttered as we reached the sidewalk.

  “Agreed,” I said. “But picking a fight with them won’t help.”

  “So you just put up with that crap?”

  “No, I usually have a comeback, unless they’re too drunk to get it, which those guys were. Now, let’s put off buying a phone until morning and—”

  “Hey!” The corner store door banged behind us. “Did we say you two rez rats could leave?”

  “Keep walking,” I murmured.

  “I am,” he said, with a growl that told me it wasn’t easy.

  “Hey, you. Half-breed. I’m talking to you.”

  Ash slowed, tensing fast, and when I gripped his arm, I could feel the muscles bunching.

  “Keep walking, Ash,” I whispered. “Please keep walking.”

  “That’s what I’m doing, isn’t it?”

  “Yo! Half-breed. Bring your sister back here. We’re not done with her yet. Hell, we haven’t even started with her yet.”

  Laughter from the others. I had Ash’s arm in a vise grip now, practically dragging him along, his sneakers scraping the sidewalk, as if he was two seconds from wheeling and charging.

  “You shouldn’t have to put up with that,” he muttered as they called out suggestions behind us.

  “Every girl has to put up with that. It doesn’t matter what color her skin is.”

  Shoes clomped behind us, coming fast.

  “Yo, half-breed. Tell you what. You show us where we can get some beer, and we’ll give you a whole case for your sister. That’s a good trade, isn’t it, kemosabe? I know you guys like to trade, and she’s such a pretty little—”

  Ash spun and hit the redhead with an uppercut that sent him reeling. I grabbed his arm, but he shook me off. The other three thundered down the sidewalk as their leader recovered and swung at Ash. Ash ducked the blow and came back with a right hook that sent the guy spinning.