Theron barely glanced up as the sound of pleading and wailing drew closer. A second later, Darrell threw Officer Reed down to Theron’s side on the gravel road.
“Make it work, and I’ll try to convince my grandmother not to feed you to our children,” Darrell said, whispering with as foreboding a tone as he could.
It didn’t take much, Reed was a wreck.
Theron couldn’t blame him. Several of the Holden clan were still bears, stomping around the perimeter searching for the scent of those who’d fled. And even closer still, the corpse of Baird Davenport lay sprawled across the road, bleeding into the gravel.
Theron ignored the smell of blood filling the air. He wasn’t sad to see Baird dead, but seeing a man killed didn’t have a calming effect, that was certain.
“Do you know how to make it work? Do it! Turn it on,” Theron said, yanking Reed’s shaking hand toward the machine.
Reed shook his head and pointed to the dead man on the ground. “He has the key on his belt.”
The words were barely a whisper, but Darrell crossed the distance in two strides, ripping Davenport’s key ring from his belt with such force, the body lifted a foot off the ground before slumping back into the blood soaked gravel.
The smell only got stronger.
Darrell leaned down over Reed and simply pressed the keys into Reed’s chest. “Make it work.”
The officer stifled a sob, but took the key ring and began searching through the keys with his trembling hands. He held a stranger metal shape between thumb and forefinger and tried to insert it into the machine. Theron spotted the slot as soon as Reed took aim, then snatched the keys from the man. There was no time to wait for him to steady himself. Theron inserted the strange key, turned it, and the screen blipped to life.
This device, though seemingly high tech, was clearly several years old. Theron waited, watching the cloudy screen slowly brighten. There in the bottom left corner of the screen was a crowd of lights, orange and yellow, all crowding together and milling around like amoeba in a petri dish.
Theron paid this small pocket of life no mind, because far off on the top right side of the screen, two tiny blips hovered together there, perfectly still.
“Where is this? How far is this!?” Theron yelled, grabbing Reed’s collar.
“It’s five miles! Up the gravel road.”
Theron released his hold on Reed, grabbed the machine in his hands, and hauled it across the circle of cars. Charlie was already opening the passenger door of his truck when Theron arrived.
“I’m coming with you,” said a familiar voice. Theron turned to find Darrell standing at the passenger side door, meeting Theron’s eyes without an ounce of pleading.
This wasn’t a request.
Theron nodded, and Darrell hopped up into the bed of the truck, dropping onto his ass just as the gravel kicked up from beneath Charlie’s wheels.
The truck shuddered with every inch as Charlie barreled through potholes and loose stones, careless of the state of the truck he’d stolen. Theron didn’t need voice his urgency. Charlie was doing everything Theron could ask.
The terrain grew rougher as they went, the lights of the trucks following behind the only sign of life for hundreds of miles. Theron kept his eyes on the screen, watching the two little blips grow closer with each passing moment.
He stared at the color of the lights. One was bright orange. The other an almost yellow white. He didn’t know the reason for the color variance, but he knew what he feared.
Temperature difference.
The truck rattled violently as they plowed through a massive sinkhole, the sound of the undercarriage grinding into the dirt. The road was disappearing in snow and uneven terrain. They were still trudging forward, but the blips were no longer drawing near.
They’d passed them.
Theron punched the passenger door. “Stop the truck.”
Charlie did as he was asked and Theron climbed out. He marched to the front of the truck, scanning the ground ahead for a sign of tire marks. There was nothing to betray where Davenport had taken them. He glanced back to the two trucks following up behind and caught sight of Pearl in the passenger seat.
“Sinead!” Theron called, his voice echoing through the hundreds of miles of nothing, only to be quashed by a sudden rise in the wind. Theron glanced back to the truck and saw Charlie pressing his hands to his face, breathing heavy into them to keep them warm. In the chaos of the night’s events, he’d almost failed to notice how cold his human counterparts were.
And she’d been out here for at least two hours.
Theron pulled the passenger door aside, almost ripping it free in his frustration, and checked the screen again. The two blips were a half mile or so west of him.
“There’s no road!” Charlie hollered from inside the truck. “We can go back. See if we missed a turn?”
Theron shook his head. “Stay here. Darrell?”
He turned to find his cousin pulling his shirt up over his head. They could cover this ground faster as bears.
Theron waved back to the other trucks, and soon the road was filled with several members of the Holden clan, many of them slipping out of their jackets to shift and take to the wilderness. The wind picked up again, this time blowing eastward. Theron turned toward it as though someone called his name.
He’d caught her scent.
He didn’t say another word, but felt the familiar searing electricity rush over his skin as fur began to appear. He felt the ground grow further from him, felt the weight of his shoulders triple so quickly, he had to let his paws hit the ground. Then with his claws cutting through frozen ground, Theron took off into the darkness, huffing clouds of vapor into the frigid air. He didn’t slow as he barreled over the terrain, the sound of Darrell just behind him, the scent of Pearl and Uncle Gregory somewhere nearby. They were all heading west at their best pace, Theron breathing hoarsely to find the scent on the air again.
The scent coupled suddenly with the smell of diesel fuel. The trucks were in the distance now, their engines humming far away enough for their scent to fade. This smell was drawing closer now. Theron turned southward and doubled his pace.
Please be alright. Please be alright. Please god, let her be alright!
The dark shape was almost completely invisible against the terrain, but it was there – a rusted old Volvo, its windows opaque with condensation.
Darrell was the first to shift back, running across the snowy ground in his bare feet. Theron wanted to meet him at the back door of the car, to reach in and see Sinead, make sure she was alright, but he knew she’d need more than simple tending. She’d need warmth. She’d need to be taken somewhere safe. Theron rounded the front end of the car, shifting back as he reached the back driver’s side door. He tried the handle and found it unlocked.
“I tried to keep her warm, Deedee. I tried.”
Darrell was in the backseat now, collecting Buniq into his arms on the other side of the car as Theron opened the door.
Buniq was sobbing. Sinead wasn’t there.
Darrell and Theron met each other’s eyes, and no words were needed.
“Bunny, where is she? Was she with you?” Darrell asked, holding the girl in his arms.
Buniq was half dressed, a sign of having shifted while stuck there in the middle of nowhere.
Buniq wiped her hand over her eyes. She was stumbling over her words. “I tried to make her stay. She said she was going to find help.”
Pearl snatched Buniq from Darrell’s arms, crying out to the gods in her own language. Buniq’s clothes were cast across the back seat of the car. She’d shifted to try to keep Sinead warm.
It hadn’t been enough.
Theron scanned the darkness, frantic to hear this news.
Darrell’s eyes widened in shock. “She went out in this? She left you?”
“How long ago?” Theron asked, his voice cracking.
“I don’t know. She was talking silly, trying to take her jacket
off like she wasn’t cold.”
“Sinead!!” Theron screamed, his voice cracking in his throat. He’d heard stories from his sister’s boyfriend, Deacon.
Deacon was a local EMT back in Blackrock. He’d seen all manner of trouble and trauma driving an ambulance, and with waters as cold as Blackrock, he’d seen hundreds with hypothermia. They often discussed his work at family gatherings.
One of the symptoms of hypothermia was confusion, delirium, and losing the sense of temperature. Deacon had found more than one victim frozen in the woods, naked. Apparently, stripping wasn’t an uncommon behavior among the freezing cold.
If she was truly this far along, she might already be lost.
Theron shifted back, the shards of ice blowing in the air now bouncing off his thick mats of fur. He pressed his nose to the ground where Sinead’s feet would’ve been and found her scent, subtle, but present. He turned toward the darkness and the west and took off.
Theron grunted, as though he might be able to call her name even as he barreled through the cold on all fours, paws pressed into the snow instead of hands and feet. The scent wavered, as though Sinead had stumbled through the snow, zigzagging somehow. He could imagine her meandering in the cold, her mind leaving her as the blood in her veins chilled to the point of fatal. If she wasn’t found soon, she wouldn’t survive.
That is if she hadn’t already succumbed to the cold.
He huffed angrily, scolding himself.
Don’t even think it!
The scent picked up again, taking a deliberate turn and heading straight down a clear path in the icy grass. Theron’s gait picked up as he followed, finding actual footsteps in the area where snow was still gathered and soft enough to leave marks. He pressed his nose into the snow and touched something solid. He flicked the object up to inspect.
A worn black boot flopped over in the snow. Sinead’s boot.
She’d been here, he thought. And recently, too.
Theron quickly shifted back to his human form and took a deep breath. “Sinead!” He called.
He shook his head. Would she respond, even if she was still conscious?
She was barefoot, now. Theron’s heart pounded in his ears as he continued down the slope, scanning for any sign of her, or of clothing she might’ve cast off.
“Sinead! Damn it, where are you? Please!” He cried again, his heart hurting so desperately it took all his strength to form the words without weeping.
He trudged onward, dreading what he might find. The path evened out then turned upward, scaling another small hill. The snow faded halfway up, but her footprints were present now, the warmth of her bare foot having left a perfect print in the ice.
Theron took off running up the hill, his breath pouring steam out into the darkness. He could hear his family calling her name, they too searching the area for a sign of her.
Theron crested the hill and made hard contact with a shape on the ground at his feet. He toppled ass over tea kettle, his warm skin tearing against the hard stones and broken ice of the ground. Theron didn’t lay there long. The shape that tripped him up was soft, malleable. Theron turned to inspect the dark shape. He could barely take a breath to call back to his family.
“She’s here!” He called, and the words hurt his throat.
She was still bundled in her down jacket, the fur lined hood up around her head, but her eyes were closed, and her lips were blue.
Theron grabbed her, touching his hand to her cheek to feel her temperature. She was freezing.
“Sinead. Baby, talk to me. Can you talk to me?”
She didn’t respond or move. Theron pulled her against him as he heard the sound of Darrell approaching.
“Is she shivering?” Darrell asked, dropping to his knees beside Theron.
Theron was holding Sinead so close to him, his face buried into the hood of her jacket so he could smell her hair, press his face to her neck and maybe warm the blood that would be pumping through her jugular vein.
That would be pumping, he thought. Because she’s alive. She’s alive. Please god, please god, please god.
He loosened his hold to look at her a moment. Her blue lips were still.
“No,” he said, and the words caught in his throat. He knew what that meant. Cold and shivering were a good sign. Cold and not shivering?
Darrell was on his feet in an instant, yanking Theron’s arm to make him stand. “Come on, cousin. We have to get her back to the car.”
Theron stifled a sob and nodded. He hoisted Sinead up from the icy ground, her red hair whipping in the wind as the hood fell back.
Darrell stood by to make sure Theron had his prize, then Darrell walked with Theron back down the hill, Sinead jostling in his arms, limp and unaffected. Theron fought hard not to look down at her face. Seeing the lips he’d kissed only hours before now blue was too much. Instead, he kept his eyes on the ground ahead, carefully following in his own footsteps to bring her back to the car.
“Can you get it started?” Darrell called up ahead. Pearl called something indecipherable back, but as Theron came into view of the car, the only voice Theron could hear was Buniq, crying out in despair at the sight of her teacher.
Pearl rushed over to Theron, touching her hand to Sinead’s cold forehead as she walked beside him. The often hardened woman was soft now, her hands caressing Sinead’s face with such affection and care, Theron realized how cherished Sinead was to his family. She’d stayed with them when they were locked away. Denied herself the chance to leave when it was offered, knowing she might never see her family again.
Theron growled softly to himself. If this was how the fates would reward such a good heart, he’d happily die to meet them and tear them limb from limb.
“Get her inside, baby. Come now, get her inside,” Pearl said, stepping aside as she held the back seat door open.
A second later, Darrell piled into the driver’s seat.
He scrambled around the front of the car in a sort of panicked searching, then frowned back at Theron. “I wish my years of being a hooligan included learning to hot wire a car.”
Theron’s eyes went wide. “Charlie! Charlie knows how! Do we still have the radio?”
Uncle Gregory shifted mid-turn and took off back toward the trucks, the white of his fur disappearing into the darkness.
Theron wrapped his arms around Sinead, pulling her into his lap as the car doors were shut against the cold. “Come on, girl. This isn’t how we’re supposed to spend the night. There’s a warm bed in your future. Come on, girl.”
Theron fought hard to keep his voice steady, but he could feel her motionless and cold in his arms. He didn’t know what to do save for warm her.
He thought of Deacon’s morbid commentary, fighting to remember every detail.
‘You’re not dead until you’re warm and dead,’ Deacon said.
Theron thought EMT talk a tad morbid over those family dinners, but that night, he was grateful. That night, Deacon’s words were Theron’s only shred of hope.
He hadn’t dared check for a pulse. He couldn’t do anything but hold her. He prayed his warmth would be enough. Theron reached down to find her bare foot frozen to the touch. She’d managed to pull her sock off at some point as well.
“Come on, Shinny. You’ve gotta take me to meet your parents. You gotta bring me to Halifax so I can embarrass you in front of your friends. Come on, baby. Please,” he said, and his voice was beginning to crack.
They sat there for a long while, waiting.
“God damn it, where’s Charlie!?” He shouted, fighting the sting of tears. He pressed his face against her neck again, burrowing into the shelter of her jacket with her.
He felt a tremor move through his chest and swallowed hard. He wouldn’t cry. Crying meant he admitted she was gone. Crying meant he’d lost her. No, he would not cry.
He would not fucking cry!
Yet, the tremor continued, shuddering deep in his chest, demanding he let it loose. Theron growled there, squ
eezing her even tighter, as though he might still it.
He heard a soft exhale from the pressure of his embrace and loosened his hold on her.
It took every ounce of his will to look at her face.
Hope had taken root. Hope had sprung somewhere deep and he knew he wouldn’t survive it being snuffed out. Still, he had to look. He had to see if that tremor was what he believed it to be.
Theron looked down at Sinead’s blue lips and saw the slightest tremble.
She was beginning to shiver.
“Thank you, god!” Theron wailed, and the sound of it tore through his throat as he began to weep with her in his arms.
She was alive.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SINEAD
“Darrell! Darrell! Will this work?”
There were voices. Familiar, but very strange, coming from somewhere in the house.
“Sinead, honey. Can you grab a couple eggs from the fridge?”
Sinead turned to find her mother smiling down at her from the kitchen sink. She was washing out the mixing bowl for their Sunday afternoon tradition of making Grandma’s Chocolate Chip Cookies.
Sinead went bounding across the kitchen to the refrigerator, throwing the door open to grab the container of eggs. The cardboard shape was heavier than she anticipated, and the carton slipped from her fingers, smashing to the floor at her feet.
Anguish was the only word to describe the emotion she felt. She’d just ruined the afternoon. The eggs were certainly all shattered. There would be nothing to put in the cookies and mom would be so disappointed. She could feel the slimy cold of the eggs on her bare toes. She frowned, feeling tears coming at a brutal clip.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. It was an accident.”
“I’m sorry, mommy. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,” Sinead said, openly crying now as her mother dropped down to her knees to console her.
“Sh, sweetie. It’s ok. Let’s look and see if there are any eggs to save.”
Sinead looked down at her toes as her mother rubbed a towel over her feet, cleaning off the mess from between her toes. Sinead hissed. The touch hurt.
True North (The Bears of Blackrock Book 4) Page 15
