Daybreak (12 page)
“Ready?” Pen asked Adrian.
The boy nodded, carefully wiping the sand from his palms as Tru had shown him.
Keep the rifle clean. Never risk a misfire.
It was as if Mason had come with them to the Carolina coast.
Keep the rifle clean. Never risk a misfire.
It was as if Mason had come with them to the Carolina coast.
She stifled her slight smile and checked her own weapon. One day she wouldn’t need to carry one anymore. One day. On a day of peace.
But that seemed far off.
With a nod toward her animal guardian, she crested the dune. It took no more than a minute to pull within human eyesight of the unknown trio. Tru prowled between her and Adrian, then set off at a casual lope to circle around from the other direction. Not so far that he’d be out of leaping distance. But far enough that the man with the rifle would need to split his attention between human and beast.
The darker woman spotted them first. She locked eyes with Pen, and again that fissure of recognition threatened to unnerve Pen’s concentration. Tall and slender, but with a nicely athletic build, this woman did not look like the malnourished sex slaves Pen had often aided. She held herself with a warrior’s confidence, larger than life in the way Jenna had been to Pen’s nine-year-old eyes. High, wide cheekbones offset her dark and inquisitive stare.
The act of lowering his rifle brought the man back into focus. Pen blinked and hefted her own weapon. “Don’t move,” she said.
A quick glance to her right showed that Adrian, too, had the man in his sights. His hands didn’t tremble as he kept the rifle level.
Look what Tru has accomplished.
Look what Tru has accomplished.
In just three days. What could a boy like Adrian learn with a lifetime of such guidance?
But Pen shunted that impossible thought away as quickly as it appeared.
“No one wants a bloodbath.” She tipped her head to the man’s right. “And he’s one of us.”
The man didn’t look at Tru, but the two women did. The shorter blonde one, who on closer inspection appeared too small to be fully grown, watched the lion lazily circling their position.
Gaze still steady on Pen, the other woman raised her hand and laid it slowly, carefully, on the barrel of her companion’s weapon. “Put it down, my friend. Nothing to fear here.”
Pen didn’t exactly agree. Adrian could panic, or Tru could twitch his tail the wrong way. Fear was everywhere in their little circle—everywhere but in that woman’s impossibly dark eyes.
“We’re heading north,” Pen said. “Not looking for trouble, don’t want any following us either.”
“Neither do we. Perhaps we can make introductions?”
Something about the woman’s voice was hypnotic, as if she’d worked for years to find the perfect soothing pitch. That might have been her magic, but Pen didn’t believe it. She was capable of more. The only question was whether that something else constituted a danger.
Pen inhaled past a bubble of panic. She wasn’t a leader. She didn’t have the control for it—her magic was too unreliable. Adrian . . . Tru . . . They depended on her to make the right decision.
But this moment had nothing to do with magic. Just people. Just a judgment call that could mean their lives.
“My name’s Pen. This is Adrian and the lion is Tru. We’re heading north to a camp. Maybe you know something about it.”
“Arturi Mäkinen’s camp.”
Pen blinked. “That’s right.”
The woman offered a brilliant white smile that contrasted with her complexion. “Good. You’re just the people we were coming to see. This is Jack, Shine, and I’m Zhara. Arturi Mäkinen is my husband. And you, Penelope—I’ve been expecting you.”
TWELVE
Tru shifted to back to human.
In lion form, while he retained memories, he wasn’t exactly himself. He lacked the ability to make logical decisions. Needs became simpler and more primal. This situation called for human sophistication. So at Pen’s cue, he responded. She and Adrian stood at an impasse with the three newcomers, while he quickly dressed. He didn’t think the confrontation would come to bloodshed. These people wanted something from the Orchid.
Big surprise. Everyone seemed to.
“Better?” the tall woman asked.
Tru smiled lazily. “It is for you.”
Zhara turned to Pen. “Arturi bade me go and guide you to our camp. We’re well hidden from our enemies.”
So far, Jack and Shine hadn’t spoken a word.
“You promise safe passage?” Pen asked.
The tall woman shook her head. “I can’t, can I? But you will come to no harm from us.”
“Our boat’s anchored a mile up the coast,” Shine put in.
A boat? Tru banked a flicker of interest. He’d never traveled by water, despite a history of exploration. Few people had seen as much of the Changed world as he, though he usually saw it in lion form. Not this time.
Tru waited. This was Penelope’s operation.
Finally, she nodded. “Lead the way.”
Adrian dug into their provisions and handed Tru a couple of fish to eat on the move. An efficient use of time and resources. Little conversation passed between the two parties. The younger female eyed Tru with a carefully blank face. He obliged her with a toothy smile, but she surprised him by responding with a wink before striding ahead.
That left the man walking between them. It was a good move. Protective.
“You tried to scare her,” Adrian said to Tru.
“So I did.”
“How come?”
“Because she stared at me. She should be used to skinwalkers, but maybe my ability isn’t why she was looking.”
“I think it’s amazing.” The kid’s tone held a wistful edge.
“You wish you could shift?”
“Hell, yes.”
That was how he’d felt upon first learning of Jenna’s ability. “Well, I was older than you when my lion kicked in. So maybe you’ll change too. At the right time.”
Adrian seemed cheered by this possibility. They lapsed into silence, putting one foot in front of the other. Tru didn’t trust this group or their timely intervention, but then, he was a suspicious bastard. Penelope’s magic would detect hostile intentions. Wouldn’t it? He couldn’t bring himself to ask her, and certainly not in earshot of the newcomers.
“You’ve just about kept your promise,” Penelope said softly. “We’re almost there.”
“Just a boat ride now. It’ll be a welcome break from walking.”
Her voice dropped to a husky timbre. “But we still haven’t slept together.”
That no longer sounded so pleasing as it once did. Oh, he still wanted her, but . . . not on prescribed terms. What he wanted would never come to pass. The Orchid wasn’t likely to slip into his bedroll because she wanted him too badly to refrain. As such, he’d lost his taste for the game. Seduction with Penelope didn’t promise the same sweetness, the same heady sense of power.
And he couldn’t go down the road to caring. Not again.
“True,” he said simply.
This wasn’t the time to get personal. With a measuring look, she subsided. A short time later, they reached a small craft with oars that had been pushed up on the shore. Shading his eyes, Tru glimpsed a small boat bobbing farther out on the waves.
“That’s it,” Zhara said. “We won’t all fit, so we’ll make two trips. Do any of you know how to row?”
Silence.
When the hell would we have learned?
He felt snarly. Soon Pen and Adrian wouldn’t need him anymore. Not for protection. Not for anything. That knowledge dug into a ridiculously raw place—a place he’d thought scarred over for years. He’d believed himself so well protected that nothing could get inside his armor ever again.
When the hell would we have learned?
He felt snarly. Soon Pen and Adrian wouldn’t need him anymore. Not for protection. Not for anything. That knowledge dug into a ridiculously raw place—a place he’d thought scarred over for years. He’d believed himself so well protected that nothing could get inside his armor ever again.
“I’ll need a volunteer for the first trip from your group.”
“Me.” Adrian glanced at Tru as if for permission.
He inclined his head in silent thanks. The kid’s bravery made his job a lot easier. There was no way in hell he was leaving Penelope unprotected, and no way he would let her get in that boat without him. Adrian’s offer simplified everything.
Soon the small craft had pushed far from shore, leaving Tru alone with Pen. She stood beside him, grubby but undaunted. She really thought these people could make a difference in her fight against O’Malley. He shook his head in disbelief. What must it be like to have that kind of faith? And hope? Painful, he guessed. Especially if things went wrong.
Such a damning combination of strength and doubt, of experience and naïveté.
“Do you think I’m being stupid? To trust them.”
Tru looked out to sea. “Not if you’re cautious. Keep sharp, listen for lies, and be ready for trouble.”
She, too, gazed over the churning waves in uneasy silence. “I already saw signs of deception. Not in their faces, but in their auras.” Her look said she expected him to make light of her mojo.
But he respected what she could do. He’d seen too much of the world not to. “Everyone lies. So that’s probably natural to some degree. Somebody gleaming silver with purity, I’d suspect them of using some kind of masking spell.”
“That makes sense.”
“Glad I could help.” And he meant it, astonishingly enough.
Deep blue eyes gazed up at him with entrancing candor. “Would you do me a favor?”
“Depends on what it is.”
Pen’s lips curved. “I want a kiss. For luck.”
His heart gave a crazy lurch. Absurd to imagine that his touch could bring her any good fortune, but then, she must know that.
She just wanted the kiss. And he did, too.
“That I can do. For a moment I feared you’d found a dragon for me to slay.”
“Not today. Well, not yet.”
Carefully, he cupped her face in his hands and bent down. She lifted on tiptoes, lips parting for his. It was a slow, languid dream of a kiss, all brush and tease and sweetness, a heady precursor to the wildness that thumped like a drumbeat. Deeper, deeper, and with each sweep of tongues, she clung to him, so soft and warm that he could lay her down on the sand. Any gentleness would burn away until he took her with utter ferocity.
“Was that what you had in mind?” he asked against her mouth.
Her breath came in flattering gasps. “More.”
Whether a request or an answer, he obliged as if it were both. By the time they finished, long moments later, her lips were rosy and bee-stung. He stroked the delicate curve of her jaw and she tilted her head, deliciously responsive. God, he wanted to make her come. She bore all the hallmarks of an unawakened woman.
He no longer wanted to bait her or use her for his entertainment. She had become more. Dear. Vital.
Precious
. And not in the casual way he usually used the endearment.
Precious
. And not in the casual way he usually used the endearment.
More like—
No.
He snipped the thought.
He snipped the thought.
Tru preferred pursuing pleasure for its own sake. He hadn’t always been that way, but it was easier. Less painful. He’d suffered enough heartbreak for two lifetimes.
Mason would’ve been disappointed in the man he’d become.
A bitter smile twisted his mouth.
“Is something wrong?” She watched him, as if reading his expressions.
Tru offered a lazy smile—the I-don’t-give-a-fuck smile that she hated. On the heels of their intimacy, the dismissal seemed to hit even harder. She stiffened her shoulders.
“Just the whole world,” he said. “But never mind. We’ll put it right, won’t we?”
“Why are you acting like this? I thought—”
“That you fixed me? Sure enough, I’m a regular Quixote tilting at windmills now.”
“I hate it when you get this way.”
Me too
.
.
A taut, angry silence fell between them. They didn’t speak again until Jack returned with the boat. He signaled that they should wade out into the water and climb in. Tru waited for Penelope to make it into the craft, before gracefully leaping over the side. The lilt of the water offered an unsteady landing, but he managed to sink onto the bench without mishap. Jack took up the oars. Pen sat beside Tru but didn’t appear happy about it. Even then, he was privately glad she’d chosen to sit by him rather than the sullen stranger.
That spoke volumes about his sanity. And maybe hers.
Whatever else could be said of Jack, the man knew how to row. In his hands they pulled cleanly through the waves and cut the distance to the larger boat. Which wasn’t much. Just a small seafaring vessel. Perhaps it had been a fishing boat before the Change, long since retrofitted with patched sails. Rough work, but functional.
Adrian waited for them on deck as Tru followed Pen up the ladder. So did Shine and Zhara, who was clearly the captain. She gave the orders, telling Jack to pull anchor while the girl trimmed the sails. Tru’s group did its best to stay out of the way. The wind puffed out the patched canvas and they drifted in the right direction. Wherever that might be.
“Sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk much,” the tall woman said. Pen nodded regally. “I understand.”
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