Win rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have left work for me.”
“I couldn’t stay, not with you sick. Dad said you were talking about someone called Iris?”
Win closed her eyes and sucked in air through her nose. “I saw a door, in a vision…it was so weird.”
Rowan’s green eyes rounded. “Whose door? Can you remember?”
Win lifted a knee and propped her forehead against it. “No, it’s blurry. It was a metal door with a big padlock. And there were voices inside….”
“This doesn’t sound good.” Rowan bit her lip, her expression anxious. “Have you seen this door before?”
“No, no.” Win shook her head, the memory and pain still very fresh. It was making her stomach roll. “I haven’t felt anything like this for ages. I thought I was over it. She was watching me again, the crazy lady.”
“Oh, Jennifer?” Rowan frowned. “I hate that lady. She gives me chills.”
Jennifer Riley had been watching the Hickory family for some time. Years ago, she published a book documenting all the odd happenings in the town, strange occurrences, and animal sightings.
Rowan made a sympathetic noise, giving Win’s hands a squeeze. “I’m sorry. You aren’t out of the woods yet. These episodes will come and go until you complete the calling.”
“And when will that be exactly?” Win moaned. “I want it over with.”
Rowan sighed at her sister’s impatience. “You know I can’t say for sure. There is no getting it over with.”
Win folded her arms around her knees and gazed out toward the yard miserably. When she had arrived in Cedar wood, she was a shadow of the girl who used to be top of her class. Struck down with a mystery illness, it had taken her a long time to accept her body was being taken over by an old power she couldn’t understand. Her teenage body was changing rapidly, mutating into the animal she would eventually become, dwelling inside her like a squatter refusing to pack up and leave. Changes had brought about enhancements in her sense of smell and sight; she was faster, more agile, viscously strong, and often quite bad-tempered.
But being home on the Hickory plot, she had learned to accept what was happening, to tune into the earth and take strength from it. Tears pricked Win’s eyes; she knew she was being unreasonable. Everything had been so good. She should have guessed it wouldn’t last.
“Do you know who Iris is?” she asked her sister.
Rowan shook her fiery red curls. “No, I’ve never even heard of her. So—the voices? Were they calling you? Were they in the room?”
“I think so.” Win blinked. “It sounded as if they were locked in there. Creepy.”
“Are these the same voices you heard before? Could this be anything to do with the lost ones?” Rowan thought aloud.
Win hadn’t thought of that. Members of her family were trapped inside their animal carcasses, their souls bound until they were set free. Which neither sister understood fully.
When Win had visited the old Lincoln town museum, she had seen the White Wolf, knowing somehow there was a soul trapped within its shell. Her grandfather had told her the only way to free them, which he knew of, was by burning the bodies, but how and when they could ever do this was something Win had thought long and hard on.
“Where’s Grandpa?” Win asked. “He might know.”
Rowan stood fluidly and peered out under the floral curtain to the yard below. “He’s been out all afternoon,” she said quietly. “But I’ll ask him when he gets in.”
Win detected a worried tone in her voice. “He’s been gone a lot lately,” she mused, her chin resting on her shoulder as she watched trees swaying in the early evening breeze. Rowan shoved her hands in her pockets but didn’t reply, only chewed on her lower lip. Win meant it seemed; lately, their grandpa had been spending more time as the wolf rather than the old man they loved.
The corners of Rowan’s eyes creased, her gaze far away and empty. Win's stomach curled up with worry. She reached for her sister’s hand. “What is it?” she whispered.
Rowan looked down sharply and brushed her off with a smile. “Nothing, honey.” She kissed Win’s head. “Dad will want to look in on you. You get to bed.”
Win crawled back to her sheets, diving into bed. The dizziness ebbed away, and after settling back onto the bed, she felt strong again, after-effects of the vision finally wearing off. She waited patiently for a few more minutes, nuzzling her head between the pillows when the door creaked and her father’s familiar footsteps padded across the floor. She waited until he’d gone, pretending to be fast asleep while he peered down at her with concern before he switched off her lamp.
An hour later, Win swung her feet over the bed, hurriedly stuffing them back into her shoes. The night air was clean and crisp as she hauled her window up, hooking her legs over the ledge and peering down into the dark yard below. From downstairs, she could hear the television blaring and realized her grandfather must be home, as she could make out the sounds of his favorite cop show. Deftly, she slid along the ledge until she got a grip of the overhanging porch roof. She had nearly given the game away a few nights ago, accidentally kicking off one of the roof tiles. But this time, she lowered her body to the porch steps, using all the strength of her arms to hold her weight. Her biceps burned. She dropped and fell silently onto the grass. Win grinned at her landing; she was getting better. In the dark, her eyes flashed a coppery orange. She could make out shapes of old, rusting trucks as she jogged through long grass, her feet picking up speed as she neared the treeline.
Her hair whipping in wafts of warm, evening air, she plunged into the woods, birds scattering out of bushes as she ran. She was pretty fast. Luke had timed her once. He and Ella had driven to town in his car, and she had cut through the woods on foot. She had beaten them by a minute.
Leaves crunched underfoot as she ran; any pain she had noticed earlier had vanished. She stopped momentarily and listened to the woods, and creatures scurried away, soft hoots from owls up above. She made it to a clearing, pools of moonlight lighting her path, and she saw him.
On hearing her soft footfalls padding toward him, he lifted his chin and reached up to pull back his hood. His hair was always paler under moonlight. Win loved his hair, thick and white blonde. He sometimes wore it tied up at the sides or loose around his face. She smiled, slowing her pace, her heart speeding up, knowing he was waiting for her. Grayson unhooked the mask covering his nose and mouth, his lips parting in a smile.
“You’re late,” he said gently. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
Win wrung her hands, approaching slowly. “I had a few issues tonight,” she said, half truthfully. “I wasn’t feeling too well earlier.”
“Oh.” His thick brows knitted together, staring down at her with those impossibly blue eyes. He lifted his hand and cupped the back of her neck. “But you’re alright now?”
She took his arm, trying to ignore the way his thumb traced across her jawline. “I’m…” On fire, she wanted to yell, wishing he’d be a little less chivalrous, wishing he would push her up against a tree and finally kiss her. Being around him was pure torture, fire she had played with for the whole summer. “I’m fine,” she breathed at last.
At first, it had been the odd ‘running into’ one another in the woods. Win could catch his scent and trace him easily, the smell of wood and burnt embers, trying to ignore the fact she felt like a stalker when she eventually, causally, came upon him. Then it was pretending she needed help with something, like knowing how to attune her stealth skills, some idiot hunting question she’d concocted. He didn’t seem to mind. They talked, and soon, the meetings became ritual and secret. It had been a revelation the first time he’d met her without the mask on.
Win had known it had taken courage and trust on his part, and one night, on a balmy one like this, she’d come up behind him to see if she could startle him, only to have him turn at the last minute. The first time she’d seen him without the mask, it was
like meeting a stranger. There had been a fleck of uncertainty in his eyes, a quick dart of regret, wondering if he’d done the right thing, but Win had smiled and held his hand.
It had been a turning point. His scars were part of him. Win had traced them with her eyes; three long deep claw marks ran from under his ear down to his bottom lip. She was endlessly fascinated with them, and he often caught her staring and would turn away abruptly.
Breaking the tension, Grayson pulled away, letting his hand slide down her arm. “I brought the bow. Did you still want to have a try?”
“Yes.” She swallowed, walking beside him deeper into the clearing.
Who was she kidding? She would have said yes to a mud run if it meant he was standing near her. If it meant he had to touch her or move her hair back out of her face. She wandered behind him, watching moonlight glint off his hair.
“You go first, though, and I’ll watch you.” She settled on a fallen log, brushing off damp moss with her fingertips. He lifted his eyes to hers and gave her a smile.
“You aren’t going to wimp out on me, are you?”
“No,” she promised.
He bent to take the bow from its casing, unzipping it and carefully lifting it free. “So what happened today? You look pale,” he said. Win shrugged. Grayson was easy to confide in; he listened. She only wished she knew what he was thinking. He often bit back his words, assessing them carefully before he opened his mouth. Then there would be a long pause, which Win couldn’t stand, so she ended up saying something lame just to fill silence. He wasn’t a talker.
“I had one of my bad headaches, except—this was a bit different.” She stumbled over her words, unsure whether she should mention it. It all made her sound crazy. But he knew that much about her already. “I saw something.”
He stood in one motion, strapping the quiver to his hip. “Something? Like a vision?”
“Kind of. I don’t know.” She stood, arms folded. “I saw a door with a big lock on it…and a voice…I sound insane.”
Grayson lowered his gaze, rolling his lower lip over his teeth. “What did it say?”
Win joined him in the clearing, watching him as he pried the bow from the case and flexed the string. She bumped him with her shoulder. “Forget it,” she insisted. “It’s another crazy trait I’ve inherited from my cursed family.”
“You aren’t cursed,” he said, shaking his head, eyes darkening.
“I think you’ll find that’s exactly what it is,” she teased, smiling up at him, stepping closer.
Clearing his throat, he stepped away, fiddling with the bow. He was wearing fingerless gloves, his nails bitten down to skin.
“What you can do is a gift, Win,” he said, wandering away, kicking up leaves as he went. “And none of what happened in the past is your fault. What did the voice say?”
“It told me to find Iris.” She slumped against the trunk of a tree. “Except no one knows who she is. I haven’t had a chance to speak to my grandpa yet. Have you seen him at all?”
Grayson snapped his head in her direction. “Why would I have seen your old man?”
Win blinked at his change in tone. “Only because you’re out here all the time! And lately, he’s been going out for longer and longer…it’s not like him.”
Grayson shrugged. “I haven’t seen him. It’s a big wood. And I’m not out here all the time.”
“Oh really? I haven’t seen you in town doing your banking,” Win shot back, her lips pressing into a smile. He bowed his head, and she could tell he was smiling. There was a glint of even white teeth, vanishing as quickly as it had come. “Or out buying my birthday present?”
Grayson rolled his eyes. “It was your birthday! Really? You haven’t mentioned it a hundred times already,” he joked. He stepped back and stood with both his feet apart. Leaning back, he pulled the bowstring level with his cheekbone. Win watched, open-mouthed, as the arrow fired off and hit a pine tree with force enough to split bark, shattering it into tiny splinters.
“You could have got me a card,” Win teased. Grayson stalked across the gap and yanked the arrowhead from the bark, the head embedded so deeply he grunted as he pulled it free.
“Want a try?”
“Okay.” She stepped up nervously, her shirt sleeve brushing his hand as he locked her arm in place. Win’s cheeks burned, knowing her feelings must be scrawled in red letters on her face. If he noticed her chest flush, the way her pupils dilated when she looked up at him, he would never let her know. His hand was on the small of her back as he tilted her, shifting her fingers on the string. Trying to ignore his hand, she lifted the bow, closing one eye, and aimed for the same red pine. Pulling back the string, she was distracted by his deep chuckle.
“What?” she flung in his direction.
He pressed his lips together. “Nothing,” he sniggered. “You stick out your tongue when you’re concentrating.”
Win lowered the bow. “Well, now I feel dumb.”
“No, no, ignore me,” he insisted. “It’s cute.”
She lifted it again, and when he burst out laughing, she huffed and held back the impulse to throw it at him. “I can’t do it now you’re laughing at me.”
He caught her arm as she attempted to flee, dragging her back. “I won’t laugh this time, I swear.”
She mimicked his pose, tilted back, and aimed the bow, stretching the string as far back as her cheekbone, her fingers trembling. It was a relief to let it go, a whipping sound shooting past her ear as the arrow shot through the wood into darkness. Win made a disappointed noise but he squeezed her shoulder. “Good try.” He stalked away to look for the arrow.
Win sighed. Who am I kidding? She didn’t come here night after night to learn to shoot. When he emerged from the brush, carefully tucking the arrow back in its quiver, Win closed the gap between them. He towered over her, and she loved how small she was in comparison. It made her feel safe and guarded, how he could scoop her up if he chose to. But he never did.
“What’s wrong?”
“Grayson, I can’t do this,” she said.
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Look, I’m sorry if I laughed….”
“It’s got nothing to do with that.” She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly under the thin shirt he wore. “You aren’t stupid. You must realize how I feel.”
He tried to take a step back, but she reached for his hand, linking her slim fingers between his long ones. “Win. I’m older than you….”
“Nineteen isn’t old…it’s two years!”
“But I don’t have anything…I’m not like most guys….”
“I know that,” she said with a smile.
“You should be with someone your own age. Like that guy you hang around with?”
Win’s mouth pulled downward. “Luke? Why would you mention him?”
“He seems on your wavelength.”
“My wavelength?”
Grayson groaned. As usual, Win had him on the ropes. Folding her arms, she sniffed. “What do you mean? You think I’m immature?”
“No! I didn’t mean...I only meant…he’s educated, has a job.”
“Are you jealous of him?”
Grayson glowered, lowering his voice. “Why would I be jealous of a boy?”
Win choked in a breath, trying to steady the erratic beating in her chest. “I don’t want him. I want you.”
Biting her lip, she snuck in closer, heat radiated off him, her skin prickling as she stood on tiptoe and kissed her way along his jaw. She felt him swallow, the hairs on his neck standing to attention. All he had to do was turn his head and kiss her; instead, he pulled her in closer, breathing in her hair.
“You are making this very difficult,” he whispered as Win gently placed kisses over his chin, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Grayson, I’m throwing myself at you,” she said with a small laugh. “Do you really think I care about shooting?”
He gently pushed her back to her feet. “I’ll walk you home.”
Their fingers still interlinked, they walked back through the woodland, and the moon cast shards of light breaking through the canopy. Win hated this part of the evening — saying goodbye. Leaving him was getting harder and harder.
Win recognized the familiar shapes appearing through the trees as they got closer to the yard. His fingers tightened around hers. “This vision…do you have any idea what it might mean?”
Win shook her head. “I don’t know any steel doors. I don’t know who Iris is.”
“I worry…when I can’t be there.”
“Grayson, I’ll be alright.” She turned her face from the moonlight. They were standing in shadow, two silhouettes against a backdrop of trees.
“I’m sorry…about earlier,” he said. “I don’t ever want to take advantage.”
She let her thumb dance circles across his palm. His breath shortened. It was no secret she loved having a tiny bit of power over him. She knew her nearness had an effect on him, made him tremble and choke over his words. For a man of his height and power, the touch of vulnerability lurking beneath his stony exterior was intoxicating. She wanted nothing more than to feel him completely collapse.
Something moved in the trees overhead. They both jumped apart like naughty children. Grayson pulled up his hood, tucking away loose strands of blonde hair, pushing his mask up.
“Night, wildcat.” He gave her a wink, lifting her hand and planting a kiss on the back of it before letting her palm drop. Win smiled and watched his shadow slither into the undergrowth, her eyes darting nervously to the trees above. She jogged across the yard but groaned when she saw the falcon land on the porch steps.
Win grinned, blushing. “Hi,” she said. The falcon hopped frantically back and forth on the steps, its little head bobbing wildly. If it was possible for a bird to look annoyed, this was it.
What exactly are you doing?
“I was…going for a run.” Win smirked, knowing her cheeks were glowing. Inside, the lights were out; the house enveloped in darkness.
Wild Spirit: Huntress Page 3
