Autumn Rising

by Marissa Farrar

Lakota turned back to Chogan and Mia. His eyes met with Mia’s. “Well it looks like you weren’t the only one to feel that something should be done.” He moved his gaze to Chogan. “I guess others believe in your fight after all.”

  Chogan shook his head. “I don’t want it to be my fight.”

  “It isn’t,” said Mia. “Not anymore. Now it’s everyone’s fight.”

  Lakota took a couple of steps forward. “We need to go to Chicago,” he told the people waiting. “We need to show the government that shifters and their families refuse to be oppressed.”

  A cheer rose up from the crowd, accompanied by the toots and blares of car horns.

  Lakota turned back to Chogan. “They still need you.”

  His insides were in knots.

  “I can’t lead them, Uncle,” Chogan said, his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know how. I make all the wrong decisions. I get people killed.”

  Lakota studied his nephew’s face, his lips pressed together as he considered what to say next. “For the moment,” he said eventually, “we’ll do it together. Perhaps someone else will step up, but until then, these people deserve to feel they have someone at their head. Now get your stuff together. We’re leaving.”

  Chogan turned and walked deeper into the house in a daze. He didn’t know what his uncle thought he was going to need to bring. It wasn’t as though he ever travelled with anything. And what did you bring to your own impending death anyway? Back at the cabin, he thought he’d been resigned to moving on to the afterworld. He’d known his death may be imminent, but he hadn’t been frightened. Instead, when he’d been faced with the very real death of his cousin, he’d discovered a deep, fierce drive to survive. Perhaps the reality of death hadn’t seemed real until he’d been faced with the pain it caused. Death had seemed heroic, brave, but now it only seemed sad. Yet here he was about to march into the fray once more. Perhaps it was simply his turn, a resignation to walk toward his own death and accept the fate of his cousins.

  “We can take my car,” Lakota told Mia, nodding to an old SUV outside.

  Mia gathered together the sandwiches she had made, and packed them up, together with some bottled water she’d found in the refrigerator.

  Lakota stopped and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I think you should stay here, Mia. Peter left you with us to stay safe. If you come with us now, I can’t promise your safety.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “No God-damned way. I’m coming with you. Peter doesn’t own me. He’s not my father. I’m a grown woman, and the only person who gets to decide where I do or don’t go is me.”

  A small smile tugged at the corners of Lakota’s mouth. “Very well.”

  Chogan had to admire her determination. For a pint-sized person, she certainly had a lot of spark.

  “Okay,” said his uncle. “Everyone is waiting. Are we ready?”

  Chogan wanted to say he’d never be ready, but he clamped his lips together.

  Lakota and Mia headed back to the front door, and Chogan followed them outside. His uncle’s old SUV sat in the street. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen Lakota drive the old rust bucket. He wondered if the car would even start.

  “Do you want me to drive?” he offered Lakota.

  His uncle waved him away. “I might be old, but I’m capable of driving my own automobile.”

  “It’s a long way, Uncle. At least allow me to switch with you after a couple of hours.”

  Lakota sniffed. “I guess the knees might need you to by then. The mind might be willing, but the body isn’t always able.”

  Mia climbed in the back, so Chogan rode shotgun. He settled into the old seats, the leather dry and cracking beneath his weight. The interior smelled of damp and old oil. To his surprise, the car started the first time. Lakota grinned and patted the steering wheel with affection. “I knew the old girl wouldn’t let me down.”

  People pulled to one side, allowing the beat-up vehicle through to lead the way. They drove down the main road, out of the reservation. Those who weren’t coming appeared on their porches, or stood on the sidewalk, waving goodbye to those who were leaving. Behind Lakota’s car, a trail of hundreds of vehicles ran back as far as the eye could see.

  There was only one main route to Chicago from Big Lake Reservation. As soon as they got onto the highway, men and women on motorbikes roared along beside them, flanking them a couple of vehicles wide. They rode with them for a few miles before falling back, and allowing others to join them at the head of the procession.

  A sense of loss still filled the vehicle, and they drove in silence. Chogan stared from the passenger window, not planning what would come when they reached the Windy City. They weren’t organized, just a bedraggled group of misfits. How would they match up against men with guns and armor? Chogan wasn’t even sure how many of the thousand or so people following them were actual shifters. He didn’t feel he had enough strength to shift and fight himself. And if he couldn’t fight again, how could he expect others to fight for him?

  He kept Lakota to his word, and after a couple of hours made his uncle pull over to allow him to drive. He settled into the driver’s seat, still warm from his uncle’s backside, and placed his hands on the steering wheel. He pulled back out onto the highway. There was something comforting about being in charge of the old vehicle as it ate away the miles.

  Another car passed by in the lane in the opposite direction. The vehicle slowed, almost to a standstill. Obviously the huge convoy would catch the attention of anyone else.

  A face peered out of the back window, a face with intelligent blue eyes and blonde curls.

  Chogan slammed his foot on the brake, causing everyone to be thrown forward in their seats, both Lakota and Mia exclaiming in alarm. He reached down and threw the car into neutral before yanking on the handbrake.

  Before the vehicle had barely stopped, he grabbed the door, swung it open, and threw himself out onto the road. He hit, bounced and rolled, ignoring any pain, before jumping back to his feet. He ignored the shouts of concern that followed him, and the screech of tires on asphalt as people were forced to skid their vehicles in the sudden halt. His only focus was on the car on the other side of the thankfully deserted freeway. The one that had also pulled over and stopped.

  The back door cracked open. He ran forward as the long, jean-clad leg of a beautiful blonde stepped from the vehicle. Her face was bruised, her eye swelling, her skin purple and swollen beneath, but he barely noticed the ugliness of her injuries. He only wanted to be near her again. Seeing her free and safe had lightened the horrible dark clutch at his heart that had existed ever since Blake’s death. An instinct deep inside him drove him on, somehow feeling that simply placing his arms around her again and holding her close would fix what was broken inside him.

  Her eyes lit as he ran to her, and she didn’t even protest when he scooped her up and spun her around.

  “Chogan!” Autumn laughed, and pounded a fist on his shoulder. “Put me down. Everyone is staring.”

  “I don’t care,” he said, but he placed her feet on the ground. Part of his hair had come loose, and he tucked the long strand behind his ear as he stared down at her, drinking in the sight of her flushed face. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay,” she confirmed.

  From the front of the car stepped two men. From the driver’s side appeared a man Chogan instantly recognized as Peter Haverly, but from the passenger side climbed a man he didn’t know. Chogan scowled. He still wasn’t totally sold on the idea that Peter had managed to escape the compound without being in on the side of the people who held them there. But he had Autumn with him now, and she didn’t seem scared of Peter. He guessed he had no choice but to trust him.

  But then the back door on the other side of the car opened, and another man climbed out. A man with light blond hair and several lines of scars running across his face.

  Chogan grabbed Autumn, pulling her behind him. “What the hell is he doing h
ere?”

  “It’s okay, Chogan. He helped me escape.”

  “Yeah? With Peter Haverly, too? You guys seem to have a bit of a talent of escaping from impossible situations.”

  “You’re here, too, Chogan,” Peter said. “It seems you also escaped an impossible situation. The same one I did, in fact,”

  But he didn’t get the chance to say anything more. A small boned, dark haired woman flew at Peter, leaping into his arms. Chogan watched with a strange feeling of jealousy as Mia wound her arms around Peter’s neck, standing on tiptoes to kiss him, long and full, and hard on the mouth. Peter kissed her back, his fingers running up her back and lacing in her hair. They seemed to have forgotten everyone else. They broke apart, touched noses as they spoke to each other in muted tones, but Chogan could guess what they were saying—I love you, I missed you, I’m so glad you’re here. His jealousy didn’t stem from any feelings about Mia, but because he wished his reunion with Autumn had been so simple.

  Mia remembered her friend and broke herself apart from Peter to go and hug Autumn. “You scared the crap out of me,” Mia told her.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Mia turned toward Thorne and placed her hand on her hip. “And what’s that asshole doing here?”

  “Like I told Chogan, he helped me escape. He’s turned his back on the government department responsible for abducting me.”

  “He was the one to abduct you,” she said, speaking the words that had formed on Chogan’s lips. He was thankful to have Mia on his side for this.

  “Technically, yes, but someone else is issuing the orders. That’s who we need to focus our attention on.”

  Autumn looked hopefully over Chogan’s shoulder. “Where’s Blake? He’s with you, right? You got out together?”

  His heart sank. It was hard enough telling Lakota. Now he was about to break Autumn’s heart as well.

  He shook his head. “Autumn, I’m so sorry.”

  She stared at him, unable or unwilling to comprehend what he was saying. “Where is he?” she asked again, but this time at a whisper.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, hot tears pricking behind his eyes. “He didn’t—”

  “No!” she cried. “No, no, no!”

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I did everything I could.”

  She staggered a little as if suddenly weak, and then pulled herself together, focusing on Chogan. She threw herself at him, battering his chest with her fists. “I don’t believe you,” she sobbed. “I don’t believe you.”

  He struggled to get a hold of her, her fists pounding against him. It was what he deserved. He deserved her punishment. But then he saw what he was doing to her, the violence pushing her toward an edge he wasn’t sure she’d be able to come back from.

  “Autumn, stop it,” he said. But she kept going, and he grabbed her more forcefully. “I said, stop it!”

  He held her at arm’s length, both fists closed around her wrists. She stared at him as if suddenly remembering where she was and then burst into tears. He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close and tight as she cried against him. He placed his face in her hair, against the top of her head, inhaling her scent, filled with guilt that Blake would never get the chance to do this again. It should have been Blake standing here, not him. He’d caused this whole mess. He’d gotten so many people killed.

  He didn’t deserve to be holding the girl of his dreams, even if she was crying over someone else.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  AUTUMN’S TEARS DAMPENED the material of Chogan’s black t-shirt, his body heat penetrating to warm her face as she cried against him. Her hands clutched at him, wanting his strength to hold her up, needing him to physically stop herself from crumbling.

  Blake, dead? No, surely it couldn’t be true. Blake was too strong to simply no longer exist. She’d seen him shot and still come back. What could possibly have ended his life?

  But she couldn’t bring herself to speak right now. A hole had opened up inside her, a deep void she felt she was tumbling into. She cried until her throat hurt, a wailing moan she was too far gone to be embarrassed that came from her mouth. She was aware of Chogan’s strong arms around her, how he held her tight. The heat of his breath gusted against her hair. His whole body seemed tightly coiled, as if he was trying to hold himself back from something, and that’s when she realized she wasn’t the only one grieving for the loss of Blake.

  When the tears finally subsided, she took a little shuddering breath, and forced herself to pull herself together. Blake was Chogan’s cousin. Even though the two men had had their differences, she didn’t think for a moment that Chogan wasn’t suffering his cousin’s loss. She been caught in her own grief, not thinking for a moment how all the other people who loved Blake would have been feeling.

  Ducking her head, she stepped back from him, suddenly embarrassed and awkward at the outburst of emotion she’d displayed. She and Chogan had always had a complicated relationship. The last time they’d been together he had kissed her, and she’d kissed him back, and now here she was soaking his shirt crying over the death of his cousin.

  She was also aware of the huge lineup of vehicles and people on the other side of the street. They stood, watching the scene play out before them. No one looked away from her grief.

  “How did it happen?” she asked, eventually. Her voice sounded hoarse and raw from crying.

  Chogan didn’t seem to want to meet her eye. “He was protecting his sister during the escape from the compound. She couldn’t run because of the shift, and Rhys was supposed to have been carrying her. But a chopper started firing into the clearing and Rhys left Tala and ran. Blake threw himself over her to stop her from being shot. He took the bullets himself. I tried to carry him to safety, but it was too late. I’m sorry, Autumn.”

  A surge of anger filled her, creating a red haze across her vision. “It’s not your fault. It was that bitch, Tala!”

  Chogan pressed his lips together and briefly closed his eyes before saying, “Tala’s gone, too. We don’t know if she’s dead or alive.”

  “Good. I hope she’s dead.” She spat out the words before she’d even had a chance to think about what she’d said. Her own fury surprised her.

  “Autumn ...” he said, almost pleading.

  “What? After what she did to me, and now she got Blake killed! Do you really think I’m going to have any other reaction?”

  “Autumn, please.” He turned to glance over his shoulder.

  She followed the line of his vision. Lakota stood beside an old, battered truck, and the truth of the matter sank in. He’d lost both his son and his daughter. “Oh, Lakota, I’m so sorry.”

  Her cheeks heated with shame at her outburst. Here was a man who had lost more than she could ever imagine. She had no right to put down one of his lost ones, whatever she might think.

  He raised a lined hand. “It’s okay, Autumn. I understand your reaction.”

  She shook her head at herself. “I’m sorry.”

  “We’re all sorry for what’s happened, but being sorry isn’t going to make things right again with the world.”

  For the first time, she allowed herself to truly process the immense number of vehicles and people behind Lakota’s truck. There was no way anyone else could have made it through the traffic.

  “What’s going on here?” she asked.

  “We’re going to Chicago,” Mia told her, her hand in Peter’s, standing so close to him their sides pressed together. Peter’s face was pale and drawn, his green-gray eyes glassy with unshed tears. Of course, he’d been one of Blake’s best friends. It was only natural for the news of Blake’s death to hit him hard as well. Mia seemed to understand his grief, keeping him close to her side. She glanced up at him with wide, worried eyes, and he gave her a small smile of reassurance. Autumn’s heart clenched in pain. Their easy comfort with one another only served to remind her of the man who was missing, and further increase Autumn’s awk
wardness at Chogan’s proximity.

  “We’re going to show the government that shifters can’t be messed with so easily,” Mia finished. Then she mouthed, I’m sorry about Blake.

  Autumn gave her friend a nod of thanks. She turned to Chogan. “Is this your idea?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve made too many mistakes. I can’t lead them anymore.”

  “So who is?” She looked to Lakota, but he, too, shook his head. He moved away from the side of his truck, crossing the divider to stand on her side of the freeway.

  “I’m just an old man.”

  She turned to Mia, who shrugged, and Peter said nothing.

  “You’re the one who is special, Autumn,” Lakota said. “You’re the one with all the power. The one who can swing this battle one way or the other.”

  “But how?” she said, suddenly desperate. “You want to make more shifters? How do we do that, exactly? Every attempt I’ve seen so far has only resulted in some kind of half-breed.”

  Lakota placed a hand over his heart. “When these scientists have tried to create spirit shifters, they have been focusing on the shifter side of things, and not on the spirit. Spirit shifters can be created, but rituals must go with the transformation. Your blood will create the physical change, but the spirits themselves must be welcomed into the bond, not forced.”

  She stared at him in wonder. “Is that really all it takes?”

  “It’s more complicated than it sounds, but yes, that’s what it takes.”

  Autumn felt as though a light had entered her soul. Everything suddenly became clear to her. It was time she stopped questioning her powers, stopped doubting herself. All it had led to was people thinking they could use and abuse her, that she was some kind of commodity that could be funneled or exchanged or bartered with. She needed to take control, and decide what she wanted.

  She needed to stop being afraid, both of what she could do, and of what people could do to her.

  Autumn became aware of all the people standing on the other side of the highway, as far back as she could see, in a way she hadn’t before. They were all frightened of what the government might do to their loved ones, though they were willing to make a stand. She had the ability to give them something important—hope. She needed to decide which side she was on—if there was ever any doubt in her mind—and take control.