Spirit of a Hunter (21 page)

“Before or after the chocolate death?” she mocked herself, glad Sabriel couldn’t see how close she was to falling apart.

Sabriel. There was another puzzle. What would she do about him? She’d come to depend on him too much, but the thought of letting him go opened a rip in her heart.

Her boots dislodged small stones that rattled like teeth. What was that noise? There it was again. Footsteps? The Colonel’s men? No, nothing. Nothing but the wind and her imagination.

Hoohoohoo, hoohoo, hoo
. An owl, just an owl.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you out here. Sabriel promised all the animals were more scared of you than you are of them.”

She reached the next point and played through Sabriel’s song, looking ahead for the next clue and couldn’t find the boulder shaped like a moose head minus one antler in the dark—not even with the moon’s light coming in and out of the clouds. Had she taken a wrong turn? Misinterpreted a clue?

This wasn’t happening to her. She wasn’t lost in the White Mountains, searching for her son. She was at home safely in her bed. They both were. This was just
another nightmare, and she’d wake up any minute now to the soothing green walls of her room.

Except that her aching feet, her screaming thighs and her sandy eyes made this nightmare much too real. She wanted to scream, swear, belt out all the forbidden vocabulary that had once seemed vulgar and now seemed appropriate.

She lashed her walking stick against a tree trunk and it broke. “Wow, now that was really effective, Nora. What next? Throw a tantrum? That’s a waste of energy. Just keep going.”

The next crest faced her with yet another endless tableau of mountains. Searching for breath, she rested both hands on top of her thighs.

She had no idea where she was, if she was heading in the right direction, if she’d ever find Scotty. She was both hot and cold. Her nose an icicle, her torso bathed in sweat. And under it all, a layer of numbness kept her from feeling anything at all. Decades from now some poor hiker would come across her bleached bones.

But what else could she do except keep going? She had to find Scotty.
One step at a time. Remember the song
. She had to get back to Sabriel.

She developed a pattern.
Twelve steps forward, look behind and look ahead, then forward one foot in front of the other
.

“One step at a time. Remember the song.”

The slim saddle between the mountains carried the moans and whispers, as if a legion of ghosts shadowed her walk, waiting for her to stumble so they could feast.
Her gaze followed the line of clouds growing angrier as they tumbled closer.

Her eyes burned, her muscles cramped, her joints protested. Exhaustion—physical, mental, emotional—dragged her down. She would not cry. Never again. She was strong.

The moan of the wind, the simple rugged beauty of her surroundings, became her friends, her touchstones, that rhythm of nature unmarred by her chatting gave her strength to keep going.

She reached Tommy’s next sign—a bird in flight, pointing her north—and looking out at the vastness of the mountains around her, something broke.

The air became charged with energy, coming off every tree, every rock, every atom of the sky. Like the hardening chocolate shell cracking on a scoop of vanilla ice cream until the melting confection oozed from the inside out.

Before her, all possibilities unfolded.

At that instant, peace flooded through her, and she knew with a deep certainty she would survive. She would find Scotty and Tommy. She would lead them back to Sabriel. And they would all get off this blasted mountain safely.

And she would never again let the Colonel dictate how she or Scotty should live their lives.

She would tell Sabriel that she cared for him, that once she got on her feet and settled somewhere with Scotty, she wanted a chance to see where their relationship could lead.

Coldly rational, she turned back to the woods, to the song that would lead her to Tommy and Scotty, then back to Sabriel. That would lead her to her true home.

She spotted the next sign—a flat table of rocks. Two more lines. She was almost there.

A crunch of leaves.

She spun around.

Pain split her skull.

Then darkness.

Chapter Thirteen

As soon as Nora left, Sabriel dug through the bear bag she’d dumped on him—the little fool—and found the small roll of duct tape he kept in the first-aid kit. Balancing himself carefully on the rocky shelf, he taped his sprained ankle and wrist.

Nora could do it. She could find Lightning Point. She’d learned fast and was motivated. But not knowing how fast the Colonel’s men were moving tore him apart. Climbing off this cliff would be hell, but he didn’t want to leave her alone any longer than he had to. Bad enough his mind ticked with the minutes flying by, messing with his concentration.

He found the first fingerhold and tested his bum wrist. Pain streaked up his forearm. Nothing he couldn’t take for, what, seventeen, eighteen feet? He’d climbed higher, shinnying up the maple, trellis and drainpipe to the third-story window of his parents’ brownstone as a teenager. The important thing was that he could get his wrist to hold his weight.

He tested the sprained ankle and blanked his mind, focusing on the cliff wall in front of him. The climb path opened up with clear handholds and toeholds. All he had to do was take them one at a time. Slow and easy.

But Nora, with her big, brown eyes and sweet mouth, intruded. The thought that Boggs was hunting her, that Boggs would deprive her of her child, that Boggs would kill her, hammered at him, weakened his grip. He had to reach her before the Colonel’s men did. He’d promised to keep her safe.

Hang on, Nora
.

He pulled himself up on the toehold and reached up for the next fingerhold.

Sending her out alone had ripped him to pieces, but he’d had no choice. He couldn’t have her wait while he climbed out, not with the Colonel’s men so close. And he couldn’t risk her harming herself trying to help him. But if he lost her…

Don’t think. Just climb
.

As he hauled himself up another foot along the granite cliff, something shifted inside him. When had this happened? When had he started thinking that she’d be around after this was over?

Sure, he liked having her around, liked her questions, liked the way she caught on fast. And he liked the smell of her, the taste of her, the whole neurotic, tenacious package. And damn if he didn’t like the way she looked at him with those big, brown eyes. Worse, he really liked the way she kissed him, fit around him,
made him forget about fences. Adding a room or two on the cabin wouldn’t take that much more work.

Panting, he stopped, hung on the rock like one of the blasted spiders he hated, forced himself to clear his mind. He couldn’t let himself dwell on Nora, on his feelings for her, or he’d end up at the bottom of the ravine and useless.

One breath, two, and the dread dimmed enough for him to continue to climb. He would get to her in time. He would consider no other alternative.

Lost in the concentration of the climb, he didn’t notice Boggs until his shadow dropped down to cover Sabriel’s last fingerhold.

A worm of a smile twitched Boggs’s mouth. Malevolence filled his eyes. He lit a cigarette, dragged on it until the end glowed red. “I figured something like this happened. No way a tough guy like you was going to let a woman find her own way in the big, bad woods.” Boggs pointed the cigarette at him. “Chivalry, that’s your weakness. Killed your wife. If you’d let her handle her own crap…” He lifted an eyebrow. “But you had to be the hero.” He took another drag and puffed a cloud of smoke. “Killed your career.”

“Thanks for the concern.”

“Need a hand?”

“I’m good.”

“I can see that.” Boggs squatted and peered down. “I’m glad we’re getting this chance to talk. I’d hate for you to die not knowing what happened to the girl.”

Sabriel’s jaw tensed.

“I’ve got two men shadowing her right now.” Boggs
dripped ash on Sabriel’s head. “Once she’s shown us where the boy is, she’ll have an unfortunate fall. Along with Tommy. Who knows when their bones will be found.” The worm of a smile returned and he unholstered his pistol, looked at it fondly. “I was going to kill you, but then I thought, no. He has a right to know when it’s all over.”

Boggs squinted and scanned the horizon. “I do believe this is part of the flight path.” His eyes sparked with wicked pleasure when they returned to pierce Sabriel’s gaze. “When you hear a helicopter fly by, you’ll know it’s over. That you’ve lost everything all over again—Tommy, the girl.” He stood up. “The boy.”

Boggs dropped his cigarette on Sabriel’s hand, then crushed it with the heel of his boot until bone ground into rock. “Can’t risk a forest fire now, can we?”

Wincing against the searing pain, Sabriel fought for purchase. Boggs dug harder.

Pain pulsed in white-hot shards.

“Careful, now,” Boggs said. “Don’t miss the ledge. I’d hate for you to miss the show.”

Sabriel lost his grip.

* * *

N
ORA MOANED
and cracked her eyes open. Bald rock all around as barren as the moon. Was that snow over there? In October? Too early. What was she doing outside, anyway? She rolled over, anchoring the throbbing in her head with the heels of both hands against her temples. Her stomach revolted.

She pulled up on her hands and knees.

“Hold it right there.”

In slow motion, she turned her head. The blurred muzzle of a pistol swam before her and she remembered the hit. She followed the length of black sleeve up to the hard face. Hutt. How long had she been out? The sky was dark with storm clouds, but it was still day. Not that it mattered. She was cornered. Her heart shook against the cage of her ribs. She was trapped with no hope of rescue.

She’d really messed up this time. Hutt was going to kill her, roll her body over the cliff and make her disappear.
Oh, Scotty
.

“Nora? Are you okay?”

“Tommy?”

Each movement hurt, but she focused on Tommy, hands tied behind his back, ankles shackled, his face black and blue as if he’d fought a mountain lion. Blood caked his blond hair and one eye was swollen shut.

“Scotty?” she asked and couldn’t keep the panic out of her voice.

“He’s okay. He’s safe.”

“Where?”

“Calm down. He’s okay.”

How did he expect her to calm down when he was tied up and she couldn’t move without the whole earth tilting off its axis? With the Colonel’s thug pointing a gun at them and Scotty missing? “He’s alone. My, God, Tommy, how could you leave a ten-year-old boy alone in this wilderness?”
Just left him alone to wonder if you’d ever be back
. “He could die.”

“He’s safe.” His face screwed up in pain. “I made sure.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “Tommy,
please
. I have to know.”

“Sabriel will find him.”

Waves of anger and terror stormed through her.
Don’t fall apart. Stay strong. There’s only you now
. “Sabriel’s hurt.”

Tommy’s curse was cut off by the throb of a helicopter, pulsing through the air in a rattling heartbeat. The black bird rose from the mountain’s side like a raptor and settled its spindly legs on the gray granite. The wash of the rotors pummeled against her, kicked up silt into her eyes, lashed her hair about her face in a stinging whip. Two men, armed with rifles, as well as the Colonel, jumped out of its belly.

No, not him. Not now
.

She wanted to speed through this nightmare, get to the end, get to Scotty. A fit of shakes rattled through her, beating her heart like a trapped bird. She was going to be sick. Right here. Right now.

A splash of cold wind tamped down the nausea.

Stay strong. For Scotty
.

In this wind, she was surprised that the aircraft had been allowed to go up at all. But then the Colonel never played by the rules, and his pilot probably feared the Colonel more than the weather.

Hard reality was that her son was still missing, that she was on top of a mountain, surrounded by mountains, that she now had four weapons pointed at her skull. How the helicopter had gotten here didn’t matter.

She wanted to live.

She wanted to find Scotty.

She wanted to see Sabriel again.

And if she wanted any of those things to happen, she’d have to be her own hero.

* * *

S
ABRIEL PULLED HIMSELF
up and over the lip of the cliff, the press of wasted time flaying at him like a sharp knife in sadistic hands. Boggs’s tracks were easy to find. Where was he heading? Why was he taking the long way to Lightning Point? Had Nora tracked the wrong line?

Ignoring the pain throbbing in his ankle, Sabriel moved parallel to Boggs’s expected tracks, cutting in once in a while to check his progress. He reached the ridge soon after noon. In this exposed area, wind and cold whipped through the layers of his clothes, made him aware of every bruise, every broken finger. He’d lost the track and would have to cut again. Logic told him to go left, but something inside pulled him to the right. That inner voice had never failed him and, this late, he couldn’t afford to second-guess or he’d risk disaster.

Just as he was about to give up and cut back to the left, a glint in the distance caught his eye. A gum wrapper. And right there, Boggs’s track.

Fatigue, pain, worry played tricks on Sabriel’s mind, skewed his thinking, made his movements reckless. The oppressive weight of time flickered the fuse of panic. He shook his head.
Stay sharp
. Giving in to the exhaustion was one step from sloppy and letting down his guard. One step closer to losing Nora.

He squatted next to a track, studying its unlikely path, when his spine stiffened in warning.

At the moment Boggs fired his weapon the track’s truth blossomed into knowing. Sabriel had been running on pure emotions, and that had put him square in the path of danger. Boggs had been laying tracks, taking him away from Nora, circling in for the kill.

And for his mistake, Sabriel was going to die.