by Alyssa Cole
I spun a story of conquest and adventure, eventually drawing in Maggie as the humble but badass peasant girl who helped Prince John find the man of his dreams and save the misunderstood dragon he was originally supposed to slay.
“How come Gabriel wasn’t in the story?” Maggie asked around a yawn when I had given everyone their happily-ever-after. I felt my cheeks warm, but John answered for me.
“He was the dragon, silly,” he said. “Don’t you know your own brother?”
“Eew! I thought the dragon sounded kind of hot,” she said, her sleepy voice edged with horror.
“I guess our storyteller is a little biased,” John said around a yawn.
They drifted off to sleep one after the other, and eventually I followed. I dreamed of a dragon with golden eyes curled up on the roof of the house, protecting us from all who meant to do us harm.
For the first time in weeks, I slept soundly.
Chapter Eleven
I woke up earlier than John and Maggie. When I peeked through a crack in the boards covering the window, I could see that the sun was just rising over the tree line, limning the skeletal treetops in shades of orange and yellow. A couple of months ago I would have snapped a picture of the view and posted it online, but that wasn’t a part of my reality anymore. Instead, I scanned the wooded area in my line of sight for movement or evidence that anyone had infringed upon our refuge.
I tiptoed out of the room, mindful of the sleeping siblings; they looked so peaceful in their slumber that I didn’t want to be the one to wake them. I headed for the kitchen, which held the promise of instant coffee. I tried not to think of the day the coffee would run out, hoping that things would be back to normal before we had to experience that particular circle of hell.
A movement in my peripheral vision as I reached the first floor landing caused my stomach to tighten with fear, and I gasped aloud.
“It’s just me,” Gabriel said in a low voice. He stepped through the cellar door and headed toward the living room carrying a large black lockbox.
I followed him, my curiosity overriding my desire for caffeine.
He put the box down on the coffee table, and that was when I noticed the dull gleam of the shotgun propped against the comfy sofa. I remembered how loud it had been in the clearing, but it lay there quietly now, menace and savior rolled into one. I realized Gabriel was preparing for uninvited guests.
“There’s ammo in here,” he said, taking a seat on the sofa in front of the lockbox. I heard the click of small gears turning as he aligned the tumblers to the right code and popped open the lid. There were at least a dozen boxes of shells. A small handgun lay atop the bullets. “You and John will have to arm wrestle for this one,” he said, as though he was talking about the last slice of pie at dessert.
“I’ve never used a gun before.” I watched his every move as he examined the small firearm. He joked with me, but he handled the weapon with the respect of someone who actually understood what a deadly tool it was. “I don’t know how to.”
“Dad used to take John and me to the shooting range all the time. I wonder if Maggie knows how to shoot? I’m not giving her a gun just yet, but she might have to learn eventually if—” He stopped and placed the gun down on the table, and then cracked his knuckles. “Come sit next to me,” he said. His voice had its usual commanding tone, but I could sense something else beneath it. Fear? I didn’t know what it was, but I wasn’t in the mood to be bossed around.
I crossed my arms and stared at him.
“Please,” he added. It was still a command, but tinged with humor instead of something that frightened me.
I nodded and took a seat next to him. He ran a hand over my back, a brief movement that was more comfortable greeting than seduction, and then passed me the handgun.
“It’s not loaded and there’s no bullet in the chamber,” he said as I took it.
It wasn’t as heavy as I thought it would be. The metal was cool in my hand, and I felt a little thrill of power knowing what the weapon could do to someone who wanted to hurt us. But then an image of Blue Hat, bloody and dying, flashed in my mind, and I reminded myself there was no enjoyment to be had in this kind of power.
“Hold it like this, rest your finger here, outside the trigger guard. It should always be here until you’re ready to pull the trigger so you don’t shoot anyone by accident,” he said, positioning my fingers on the gun.
I held the gun out in front of me, pointing it toward the empty fireplace. My shoulders were back and I closed one eye to align the sights and take aim.
“Nice,” Gabriel said, surprised. “I thought you hadn’t handled a gun before?”
“John forces me to play Call of Duty with him. Besides, this part seems pretty intuitive,” I said, just as he repositioned my thumb.
“That hammer goes back when you shoot. Don’t rest your thumb there unless you want it broken.”
“Okay, maybe not completely intuitive,” I quipped.
He got up and walked over to the fireplace and stood in front of it. “This is center mass. This is where you want to hit someone.” He moved his hand in a circular motion over his torso. “Now, aim at me, take a deep breath and pull the trigger on the exhale.”
“How about you move and I pretend you’re still there and then pull the trigger?” I countered, lowering the gun and opening both eyes.
“I want you to know how it feels to take aim at a person and fire,” he said. “I checked to make sure there’s no ammo in there—several times. Trust me, I’m not trying to commit suicide by Arden.”
I slid the safety on. I knew the gun wasn’t loaded, but I still couldn’t bring myself to put Gabriel in my crosshairs. What if some freak accident occurred? What if I hurt him? I remembered Blue Hat flying off me, the mist of his blood that had covered me. Except now, in my mind, it was Gabriel whose chest exploded in a cloud of red. The eyes that stared without seeing were amber instead of gray. My hands tightened around the cold steel, hard enough that my fingers started to go numb. Gabriel sighed in impatience.
“Come on, I know you’ve wanted to shoot me at least once since you got here,” he joked. I didn’t laugh.
“Why are you asking me to do this?” I asked. “Is this— Do you want me to know how you felt when you shot those men?” Tears stung my eyes at the thought that he would put me in this position as a way of getting back at me.
“No, of course not.” He strode over to me and clasped my shoulders in his hands. “Arden...look. The first time I had to stitch up a patient, I messed up three times before I got it right. I had practiced for hours and hours, but I still fucked up when it came down to it, despite the fact that it was a clean slice on an easy area to sew up.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I glared up at him.
“I don’t want you to freeze up if you ever have to do this in real life. Taking aim at a wall or a paper target is completely different than taking aim at a person, and that doesn’t even factor in fear, shaking hands, adrenaline rushes.” He held me a little tighter, and his voice was rough when he continued. “I need to know that if something happens and I’m not around that you’ll be able to shoot.”
His eyes were focused, intense, and I realized he was asking me to do this because he cared. Messed up as it was, warmth bloomed within me, a strange sensation that made my chest feel both drawn in and ready to burst at the same time.
Gabriel kept talking while he stepped away from me and resumed his position. “I didn’t know you when I first came across that bastard on top of you, and that shook me up badly. But I know you now, and I can’t deal with the thought of something like that happening again, especially if I’m not with you. Aim and shoot.”
His words momentarily stunned me, but it was the look on his face that took my breath away. He grimaced as if the thought of something happening to me actually pained him. Who knew that a guy asking me to reenact a scene from a snuff film would be the most romantic thing anyone had ever don
e for me? Flowers had never really been my style anyway.
I pushed past the innate directive against harming another person, especially someone I cared about, took aim and squeezed the trigger. A brief wave of nausea edged into my throat, but the hollow click verified that I hadn’t done any harm. I repeated the action from different stances as Gabriel stood there grinning as if I was performing a choreographed dance routine instead of shooting at him.
“Good job! You’re a regular Calamity Jane,” he said. When I stared at him blankly, he shook his head. “Remind me to lend you my Sharpshooters of the Old West book. And to challenge your history teacher to a duel.”
“Sharpshooter? You can trace the path of my invisible bullets?” I pointed the gun away from him and put the safety back on.
“You had the right stance, you didn’t waver and you didn’t stop shooting. There’ll be kickback when the gun is loaded, but I think you can handle it. This gun shoots .22s,” he said. Without warning, he pretended to lunge for me and I swung the gun up and clicked the safety off.
“Whoa. That was so hot,” he said with a grin that I couldn’t help but return.
Just then, John and Maggie walked in. Both of our heads whipped guiltily in their direction.
“What in the messed-up-roleplaying hell are you guys doing in here?” John asked, his eyes wide with mock horror. “Can you save the kinky stuff for the bedroom please? Think of the children.” He pulled Maggie close to him, clamping his hand over her eyes.
I lowered the gun and burst out laughing. Gabriel looked at me with raised eyebrows, and then he was laughing too. Even though they didn’t quite understand what was going on, John and Maggie were drawn into the fold, laughing as wildly as we were.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Gabriel said as he struggled to catch his breath.
“I hope not,” Maggie said. “That would be worse than the time I found The Joy of Sex on Mom and Dad’s nightstand.”
That set us into another fit of laughter, but when it finally died down, Gabriel’s explanation of why the guns were out sobered everyone’s mood.
“So you think that this person who was creeping around the bodies might show up here?” John asked when Gabriel was done recounting his morbid discovery.
Gabriel shrugged. “I don’t know, but we really should be prepared for anything. We should have talked about contingency plans earlier, but I’d really hoped things wouldn’t come to that.”
Maggie was normally pale, but after Gabriel spoke she was positively ashen. Her lips were drawn into a thin line and her eyes were wide with worry. I put my arm around her shoulder.
“Don’t worry, kid, we’ll be okay. We can handle anyone that shows up.” I hoped I wasn’t lying to her.
She nodded, but didn’t look at me.
“Are these the only weapons we have?” John asked, inspecting the shotgun like an old pro. And here I’d thought I knew everything about him.
“The only ones I could find,” Gabriel said.
“I have my hatchet,” John said, “but I don’t really want to get that close to anyone trying to get in here.”
“I have pepper spray,” I said. “Unfortunately, the forager had excellent taste in baseball bats and took my slugger.”
Maggie started under my arm, and I released her from my loose hold.
“You okay?” I asked. I thought she was reacting strongly to Gabriel’s revelation, but then I remembered that she was a sheltered kid. She was probably scared shitless.
“Yeah, just a little freaked out. I have something, though,” she said, and darted from the room. When she returned, she was lugging a black case that was over half her height.
“Do you have an afterschool job with the mafia?” I asked. She laid the case flat, released its clasps and revealed the shiny pink compound bow nestled in the felt lining of the case.
“I tried making it to the International Archery Championship a couple of years ago,” she said, lifting the bow and holding it reverently. She assumed a shooting stance that hinted at formidable skill. “I didn’t get anywhere close to the top of the Junior division, but I was still pretty good.”
“Oh, yeah,” John drawled, looking at the ceiling as if recalling a memory.
“I didn’t know that,” Gabriel said, dropping his gaze to the ground.
“It’s not like I actually made it or anything.” Maggie placed the bow down.
There was an awkward silence, followed by the snapping latches of the case being closed.
“I don’t want us to go into a state of constant terror,” Gabriel said. “But I think we should make sure that we’re being vigilant. No fires during the day if we can help it so no one is attracted to the smoke. We have to make sure the doors are locked and the curtains are closed. No going outside alone. I’m thinking of stringing up some old-fashioned tin-can motion detectors so we can hear if anyone is approaching.”
“This is starting to feel more and more like a horror movie,” I said without thinking.
“I know it’s scary, but let’s try to think of this as more Abbot and Costello than M. Night Shyamalan,” Gabriel said.
“As long as there are no zombies,” John said with a shudder. “I hate zombies.”
“If this were a zombiepocalypse, I think we’d have seen some brains scattered along the road on our way here,” I said.
Gabriel rolled his eyes, something he seemed to have picked up from Maggie, but John paled.
“Not funny, Arden,” he said. He really wasn’t kidding about hating zombies, and considering that we didn’t know what was going on out there, I shouldn’t push it.
“John, I think we should keep the handgun in your room,” Gabriel said in his assured voice, making us all feel safe again. “I’ll keep the shotgun at hand. Maggie, you can keep your bow wherever feels most comfortable to you.”
“I guess I’ll be on pepper spray patrol,” I said glumly. I hoped we wouldn’t have to use any of these weapons, but I still resented not being assigned a good one.
“I’m sure Gabriel is willing to share his boom stick with you, Arden,” John said, mischief dancing in his dark eyes. Either he’d forgiven me for my zombie remarks or he was punishing me for them.
“You really are insufferable,” I said, hoping my hot cheeks weren’t noticeable.
“You know, for the only non-Asian in the house, you really have been blushing a lot. Are you sneaking sips of vodka when we aren’t looking?” John prodded.
Of course he’d noticed. I flung a throw pillow at him as I made my escape from the room, fleeing under the ruse of retrieving my pepper spray. I still didn’t know what to make of Gabriel’s behavior. He was a man who was serious about protecting those he cared deeply about, and he’d just made it very clear that he wanted to protect me. He’d obviously spent enough time thinking about it that he’d been driven to act on it. And he hadn’t tried to pull any alpha male bullshit either. Instead, he’d taught me to defend myself.
That warm feeling swirled in my stomach as I thought of him standing before me, demanding that I shoot at him. It may have been twisted, but if John and Maggie hadn’t walked in I would have jumped him then and there, firearms be damned.
Chapter Twelve
The rest of the day leading up to casino night went by excruciatingly slow. I was already somewhat acclimated to not knowing the exact time. It was not having anything to do to kill said time that was excruciating. Before, I could have entertained myself by playing games on my smartphone, or reading celebrity gossip on one of the various blogs I followed. I could have immersed myself in international news, or instant-messaged a friend across the country. Now, my entire world was confined to this cabin and the people in it.
No wonder people used to go to bed so early back in the day. Then again, retiring early might not be too bad if Gabriel was waiting between the sheets for me. Those kinds of thoughts definitely didn’t help me in the nervous energy department.
I was too restless to enjoy reading. The
house had been cleaned and recleaned by each of us, making any further attempts overkill. I tried to force an additional guitar lesson on Maggie, but she was busy planning the menu and obsessing over casino night, and she soundly rejected any offers of help.
“Are you kidding me?” she asked. “As soon as I’m done, I’m going to be just as bored as you are. Find your own project!”
Frustrated, I stomped up the steps into John’s room, threw myself on my bed and flailed around in imitation of a toddler’s tantrum. John, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed and closely studying some kind of chart, didn’t even look up at me. He was fully in the nerd zone, which was a strange sight because his face wasn’t illuminated by the glow of a computer screen, like when he went down the rabbit hole of internet information searching. He had apparently found other ways to geek out.
I thought about bounding onto his bed and harassing him—not out of spite, but for lack of anything better to do—but decided against it. He was entitled to his own time to relax without being used as a distraction from my thoughts.
My lack of activity was driving me batty for a variety of reasons, but mostly because my restless mind kept circling back to one thought: Gabriel. How hot he was, how he made me laugh, how good his body felt against mine. Against all reason, and despite our decidedly unfriendly first encounters, I was in the midst of a full-blown crush. That would have been fine in the normal world, but in the enclosed snow globe of the Seong cabin, there was no escaping it.
I knew that my attraction to him was genuine, but cabin fever seemed to be amplifying the sensation, blowing it up to the point of fixation, which just wasn’t my style. I wanted his comfort and his heat and his friendship, but I didn’t want to lose any more of myself than I already had.
“Why don’t you do some jumping jacks or something instead of lying there overthinking things,” John said. I glanced at him. He picked up a cardboard circle covered with small numbers and fiddled with it. The device was actually a moving wheel that made calculations of some sort.
