by Bree Moore
“The snake isn’t our problem,” Tarkik growled. “It is our enemy. We cannot bring her to the village.”
Quinn crossed his arms. “Then I’m not going either.”
Tarkik clenched his fist. “Our journey will not be for nothing. You are needed in your village. Do you feel no loyalty to your people?”
Quinn raised his eyebrows. “My people? I grew up orphaned in the farthest reaches of the foster care system. Becca,” Quinn emphasized her name, “cares about me far more than you do, and I also owe her my life. Where were you all those years? Why not save us when we were younger?”
“We were not sure you existed until recently!” Tarkik spat.
Silla watched the exchange in silence.
Quinn shifted uneasily. “You’ve given me no reason to follow you. If I stay, I might find Harper.”
“Your grandfather seeks you,” Silla said quietly. “Would you know him?”
Quinn’s jaw dropped open. He rubbed it with a hand to hide the shock. He’d never considered he might have family other than his parents still living. “My grandfather?”
Silla nodded. “We do not know the fate of your parents, but your father’s father is yet alive, as are his sisters and brothers and their children. There is much we have to teach you about being a true Tulukaruq.”
“Our people dwindle,” Tarkik interjected. “The men are nearly gone now, and our women do not bear children easily. A child of Raven is born once per year. With our wilderness disappearing and the hunts for our kind increasing each year, we are losing more people than we can replace. We need strong men and women to rebuild our tribe.”
No wonder they had risked leaving their village. Quinn swallowed. He and Harper had talked about this for years—finding a secluded village in the far north to settle and be free from persecution. He also needed to know what had happened to their parents. These men could hold the answer.
Except Harper wasn’t here. And Silla and Tarkik looked at Becca as if she were a monster.
Quinn thought for a long moment while Silla and Tarkik gazed steadily at him. Finally, he spoke. “I’ll come. But I have two conditions.”
Silla’s eyebrow raised, but neither native man spoke.
“First, we will return to find Harper or we will send someone else to seek her out. I won’t abandon her to be hunted by the government here. Second, Becca stays with me.” He straightened, fixing his face with a stony expression.
“The namigiak will bring sorrow to our people,” Tarkik said. “She will destroy us. We cannot bring her.”
“Then I’m not coming with you. I don’t care if she’s cursed. And you can hold me responsible for her actions.”
Tarkik began to protest again, but Silla silenced him with a wave of his hand. Silla’s eyes fixed on Quinn’s. “You understand that as an outsider, she will be punished more harshly than a tribe member? And by claiming her as your charge, you may also take on any punishment she incurs while among us?”
Quinn licked parched lips and shifted his stance. “I do.”
“We cannot guarantee our chief will not sentence her immediately to death when we arrive in the village. She would be safer here,” Silla warned.
“Do you have any ideas for how we can find Harper?” Quinn asked, ignoring the lump in his throat and the glare from Tarkik.
Silla studied him. “You know where she is?”
Quinn rubbed his fingers together at his sides. His shoulders drooped. “No. We were captured by Aberration Management and didn’t see what happened afterward.”
“We can assume she escaped, or we can assume she has been caught and taken to a higher security facility. We did not see another vehicle traveling with this one.” Silla jutted his chin toward the overturned van. “Either way, your sister will need to be retrieved at another time. We are required to return within a designated time frame. If we do not, others may be sent out. We won’t risk them. We will return to the village and our chief. He will decide when we come back to find your sister.”
Tarkik grunted and stalked to the van. He shifted, bringing out his wings, and lifted the van until it crashed to the ground, right-side-up.
“What is he doing?” Quinn asked.
“We cannot wait for darkness to fly. We need alternative means of transportation. The van will do for now.” Silla approached the nearest unconscious member of the Aberration Management team and rummaged through his pockets.
“You’re leaving the men here?” Quinn swallowed at the flat look in Silla’s eyes. He hadn’t figured out if the men were even alive, but clearly, Silla didn’t care.
Silla tossed something tiny and metallic at Quinn, who fumbled, but caught it pressed against his shirt. A key. Becca still wore the ‘bracelets’ from the handcuffs.
“They would pay us no courtesy. We will not waste time and resources and risk being seized by the state to save them. If you insist on it, you are a fool. Another vehicle will pass by here, and someone will check on them. They are not dead yet.”
Yet. Quinn swallowed past a mouth tasting of cotton.
The van rumbled to life, and Tarkik yelled in his native tongue.
Silla turned to go, then hesitated. “Your actions may have severe consequences. You need to understand this.”
“I understand.” The words sounded hollow coming from his mouth. He retrieved Becca’s jeans and knelt beside her, removing the metal bands from her wrists. He wrapped the blanket more tightly around her for modesty’s sake, then picked up the jeans and lifted her. She weighed more than he anticipated, but that wasn’t too surprising. He had less of his supernatural strength while in human form.
“Put her in the back.” Silla jutted his chin out, holding the dented van door open.
“She’ll roll around and get hurt. I’ll sit with her.” Quinn adjusted his grip, keeping his eyes trained on Silla’s. Not challenging, but holding firm.
Quinn could tell the man didn’t like it, but he didn’t argue as Quinn climbed into the van, ducking to avoid hitting his head, and sat cross-legged on the floor with Becca tucked in his arms.
The van door slammed and bounced back open. Silla slammed it again, with a force that rocked the van, this time sealing Quinn and Becca inside.
Quinn breathed until the trembling in his hands quieted. In the filtered light from the privacy-screened windows, he glanced at Becca’s peaceful face. Would the serpent emerge again, here in the van? And would the Becca as he knew ever wake up?
He hoped he could keep her alive long enough to find out.
⇺ ⇻
Chapter Four
Tyson
A week ago, if someone told Tyson he’d be hitchhiking with a wanted murderer and potential demi-god, he would have laughed in their face. And yet there he stood, thumb up as he squinted in the sun on the side of the road in Nowhere, Oregon.
He sweated up a storm, the moisture mixing with the grime of several days of hitchhiking.
“That one will stop,” Harper muttered, angling her head and pasting on a wide smile. “Keep your thumb out.”
He obliged, straightening his wilting arm. “Why the crazed look?”
Her smile faltered a bit before firming back up. “Looking human and friendly gets better results. Don’t want to look too grim or they’ll drive by. Our appearance is bad enough without making them think we’re homeless. Smile.”
Tyson took a breath in and stretched his mouth in a passable smile. Hunger and heat wore on him, having hiked through the woods for a few hours before reaching the road without any water.
The RV coming up the winding road gave a honk and passed. Tyson dropped his arm and groaned, dejected. Harper swatted his arm. “Stand up!”
Behind them, the bus-like RV had slowed and pulled off the road, parking in the grassy gravel strip next to the pavement. It was cream with strips of faded pink and green color wrapping around the outside, and it looked pretty beat up. Harper headed toward it, gesturing
for Tyson to follow.
A woman stepped out from the side of the RV, letting the little white door slam behind her.
“Oh, you poor dears!” She spread her thick arms wide as if she would run and embrace them. Tyson really hoped she wouldn’t. Obvious sweat marks stained her blue flannel shirt around her armpits.
Who wore flannel in the summer?
Tyson glanced at Harper, who had a sheepish smile so out of place on her usually scowling face that he actually did a double-take. She had to be acting, right?
“Thank goodness you stopped,” Harper said. “We’ve been hiking all day trying to catch a ride.” She elbowed Tyson.
“Yes, thank you.” What else was he supposed to say?
The woman beamed. “Well, my mother taught me to never pass by someone in need.” She walked up to them and put a hand on each of their shoulders, looking back and forth between them and tsking in a motherly way. “My, my. You look like you’ve been through the wringer. Let’s get you inside before we get some liquid sunshine.” Her chin jerked to the right and Tyson followed the gesture, noticing a bank of darker clouds. The morning’s overcast skies had cleared up for a few hours, but apparently, mother nature was back for more.
“I’m Wendy, and my husband’s Fred.” Wendy gestured toward the RV door. “He’s driving, you’ll meet him in a moment. Who did you say you were?”
“T—”
“Trevor and Jessie,” Harper cut in, flashing Tyson a glare.
Right. Fugitives. Tyson clamped his mouth shut and let her take over. Harper had more experience with this sort of thing, no need to get it more mixed up than it had to be. He tried to focus on the story she fed the woman so he could recall the details later.
“You know, we were just on a hike as part of our honeymoon, and we got robbed, if you can believe that! Right on the trail. Thank goodness we were together, and that they weren’t violent. They took our keys and our car with most of our belongings.”
Wendy’s hand dropped from the RV’s door handle. “On your honeymoon? Bless you!” She pressed her hand to her chest and teared up. “I’m so glad we stopped. Fred!” she hollered suddenly. Tyson jumped. He gripped the straps of his backpack as the woman flung the RV door open and stormed up the steps. She gestured for them to follow her inside.
“Can you believe these poor dears!” she said as Tyson and Harper climbed the stairs, the RV swaying a bit with the movement. Wendy shook her head. “And you didn’t want to stop. They’re on their honeymoon!”
“Don’t see why we have to ruin it.” Fred grumbled the words, but his eyes twinkled. Tyson liked Fred instantly. Fred had a similar squat, wrinkled face as his wife and a mop of grey hair.
Wendy brushed her wispy brown hair out of her eyes, chest still heaving from her charge into the RV. “Where can we take you two? You’ll want to report this. Police station?”
“No!” Tyson and Harper blurted together.
“We mean, no thank you,” Harper said, glaring in Tyson’s direction.
Tyson gave her a desperate “Now what?” look. Harper bit her lip, which somehow changed from suspicious into cute.
Wendy and Fred stared at them.
Tyson waited for Harper to say something, but instead she turned and burrowed her forehead into his shoulder, acting too upset to talk. Tyson patted her shoulder awkwardly. He cleared his throat. “We don’t want our entire trip to be ruined by this. If you could get us to the next town, we’ll find a hotel and make a call from there. Unless you have a cellphone?” He winced as he said the words. If they did have one, he’d have to pretend to make a call. Harper’s hand gripped his forearm, fingernails digging in.
Wendy frowned. “Oh no, dear. Sorry, but we don’t believe in that kind of gadgetry. We’ll be happy to take you to the next town, though. It’s a few hours.” She waved toward the table in the cramped kitchen area. “You just get yourselves settled on those benches and Fred and I will consult the map.”
Harper sniffed and turned her head to smile at Wendy. Rubbing her face on Tyson’s shoulder had given her a reddened face, almost like she had, in fact, started crying. Tyson didn’t know whether to admire or be concerned at her skill.
Harper tugged on his arm, pulling him toward the back of the RV. “Come on, sweetheart.” She growled the last word with a fierceness that Tyson thought would surely blow their cover, but Wendy only laughed and exclaimed about young love. Fred grumbled under his breath.
Harper sat on the vinyl seat, pulling down a table folded against the wall. Tyson moved to sit next to her, but she slapped a hand on the vacant spot and gave him a strained smile.
“Tired, pumpkin?” Tyson said sarcastically. He took the opposite bench, clasping his fingers on the table and leaned in. “You make us look like we had an arranged marriage. Would it kill you to act like you like me?”
“It might,” Harper replied. “Look, I got us a ride, okay? If I’d left it up to you we would still be wandering in the woods.”
Tyson watched her face. There were streaks of dirt on her cheeks and dark circles under her eyes. Her short black hair was tousled. Her hands trembled. Tyson reached out and placed his hand on top of hers to offer a bit of empathy. Harper stared at their hands, rigid. After a moment, she slid her hand out from under his and put it in her lap. She focused on the road moving past the window outside.
“When we get to the next town I can check for any paranormal contacts there.” Harper leaned on the table and it tilted alarmingly. She quickly sat back.
“You know that many?” Tyson’s behind slid a little as the RV served lanes. He eyed the seatbelt buckle dangling next to him. Something about the way it hung told him it was broken.
“No, but I know how to look for them. We need a ride that can get us over the state line.”
“And all the way to Alaska,” Tyson finished.
Harper glanced at him. “How sure are you that we need to go there?”
Tyson poked at the chipping surface of the table. “Not at all, to be honest. These… visions. They’re confusing, more than anything. I don’t know why I’m having them, except they started when I got that knife from my Nana.”
Harper closed her eyes. “Remind me again what you saw, exactly?”
Tyson thought the images would have faded, but as he spoke they showed up clearly in his mind's eye. “A raven on a rock, cawing. A serpent coiled beneath it. A mountain standing like an open gate to a wilderness. And just the feeling that it’s north.”
Harper tapped her finger on the table. “Raven, serpent, and a mountain passage?” She frowned. “Do you think the raven could represent my people? And the snake…danger? Or a threat?”
“Are you dears hungry?” Wendy called from the front. She lumbered toward the small kitchen and wrestled with the door of a small fridge. It looked to have plastic clips holding it shut, but they refused to budge. She finally gave up, red-faced and sweatier than before, and pulled open a cupboard with a jerk. After a moment of rummaging, she pulled out a jar of peanut butter and a slightly squashed loaf of bread.
“No jam, I’m afraid. And the honey’s out.” She plunked the two items on the table and opened them, placing the bread on napkins she fished out of the cupboard above Tyson’s head. She then started going at them with a table knife she had pulled out of a drawer without even having to turn around. “At least you won’t starve on my watch.” She chuckled.
In such close proximity, the faint stench Tyson had noticed upon entering the RV intensified. A cloyingly-sweet smell, like rotting fruit, clung to the inside of his nostrils, thick and pungent. He choked down a new wave each time Wendy’s flabby arms moved. He put a hand beneath his nose and tried not to gag.
Harper’s entire face went white when the woman shifted close to her. She wiped at her nose, then dropped her hand and smiled at Wendy with clenched teeth, who smiled back and plunked a chunky-peanut butter sandwich down. A few quick strokes and she had another one. She slid the
m in front of her guests.
“Now, I know we have some bottled sweet tea somewhere. I’ll rustle it up and be right back.” Wendy’s smile stretched across her face, and she stood there with her hands folded in front of her, as if waiting for something.
Tyson managed to gasp out a strained, “Thank you.”
Harper nodded, her lips drawn in a thin smile. Wendy picked up her own sandwich and took a bite, then lumbered to the cupboards above the sofa near the front of the RV in search of sweet tea.
Harper released her breath. “In the name of all… how can a woman smell so bad?” She stage-whispered at Tyson.
Tyson shushed her. It didn’t seem like either of their hosts had heard her over the rumble of the engine, but he didn’t want to take any chances. “That’s rude. You know, they might not have a shower. And if they’re only around each other all the time, well, they’re probably used to it.” He prodded the sandwich in front of him. “Do you think this is safe to eat?”
“She ate some. So probably. Honestly, I’m too hungry to care.” Harper took a huge bite of her sandwich, locking her mouth up with the gummy peanut butter. It didn’t stop her from talking, but Tyson couldn’t understand a word.
“What?” he asked, taking a more reasonable bite out of his sandwich.
Harper scraped the roof of her mouth with her finger, making little choking noises.
Very attractive. Tyson wanted to roll his eyes, but he withheld the urge.
“Nothing human has that smell, Tyson.” Harper set her sandwich down. She steepled her fingers and pointed them at him. “Can you think of any magical creatures that might? We need to figure out what we just walked into.”
“For the record, hitchhiking was your idea,” he pointed out after he finished chewing.
“And your idea was…?” Harper cocked her head.
Tyson took another bite of sandwich in response.
“Ah, lovers’ quarrels,” Wendy said. Both Tyson and Harper jumped as the woman appeared at their tableside again. She held two glass bottles of iced tea in her hands. “They’re warm, but better than nothing. Enjoy!” She folded her hands again.
