27. Hail
Hail
A llie dropped to her knees beside my chair, her hands flying to the ropes around my wrists. Her fingers shook as she worked at the knots, and her composure cracked at the edges, her breathing coming in short bursts.
“Hold still,” she said, her voice cratering as she sawed at the rope with a kitchen knife. “These are so tight.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” The sight of her here made my chest ache with both relief and terror. She’d walked into Will’s trap just as I’d feared, but somehow she’d brought an army of chumbles and my entire family with her. “How did you?—”
“Later.” The rope around my right wrist parted, and blood rushed back into my fingers in a painful surge that made me grit my tusks.
She moved to my other side, attacking those bindings with the same fierce concentration.
Her hands trembled worse now, and her tears spilled despite the determination on her face. “Are you hurt? Your head?—”
The anguish in her voice and the way she kept glancing at the dried blood matting my hair told me how much she cared. She was breaking apart seeing me injured, and trying desperately to hold herself together long enough to free me.
“I’m alright.” I flexed my freed hand, wincing at the raw burns the rope had left. The skin was torn and bloody. “Allie, you shouldn’t have come.”
She paused in her cutting to look up at me, her eyes blazing through her tears. “Like hell I shouldn’t have. Nobody takes my mate.”
The way her voice broke made my throat tighten with pride and pain. She was claiming me as fiercely as I’d claimed her and was ready to face armed criminals rather than lose me.
The second rope gave way, and I pulled my arms forward, rolling my shoulders to work out the stiffness.
Every muscle in my body screamed in protest, my joints popping after being locked in position for so long.
A coppery taste filled my mouth where I’d bitten my tongue, and my shirt clung to my back with dried sweat and blood.
After cutting the bindings at my ankles, Allie dropped the knife. Her hands went to my face, her fingers gentle as they traced the cut on my forehead.
“They hurt you.” Her voice was steady now, but rage was building underneath like water behind a dam.
“It’s not as b-b-bad as it looks.” I caught her hands, needing to touch her, to prove that she was real and here and safe. “The head wound bled, but you know that is. Even a small cut gushes.”
She touched my split lip, and I winced at the sting. I’d reopened the cut when I tried to grin.
“Your wrists are a mess.” Her voice cracked again, and she pressed her lips together hard.
I glanced down at the raw, bloody circles where the rope had bitten into my skin. They’d heal. What mattered was that we were both alive.
Around us, the furor continued. Chumbles shrieked and darted between abandoned buildings like huge, pink-scaled hornets.
The smell of their musk hung in the air, mixed with dirt and the metallic scent of blood.
Tressa stood between us and the chumbles, her hackles raised, diving toward the birds whenever they hinted they might want to rush away.
Will and his men remained trapped inside the dark opening.
Every few seconds, one of them would try to rush out, only to be driven back by Tressa’s warning growls and the snapping beaks of the chumbles.
“I need to tell you what Will said.” I struggled to stand. My legs felt unsteady, my muscles cramped from hours of being pinned. Allie wrapped her arm around my waist to support me. “He hinted that he’d killed your father.”
All the blood drained from her face at once. “What? The coroner said it was natural causes.”
“He told me Howard’s death wasn’t an accident. Brake lines. And his partner, Simon died from another accident. But he gloated about their deaths.” Will had been so casual about it, so matter-of-fact.
Allie stared toward the mine entrance where Will was trapped, her expression cycling through shock, grief, and fury. Her breathing grew shallow, and her body went rigid against mine.
“He killed my dad?” The words came out barely above a whisper.
I tightened my arm around her, wishing I could take away the pain of learning the truth about her father’s death. She’d suspected, but having it confirmed was a different kind of wound altogether.
“I don’t know where the stolen artwork is.” Her voice broke, and she leaned into me harder. “I don’t even know if it exists, though it must since Will’s so determined to find it.”
“We’ll figure it out.” I kissed the top of her head. “But first?—”
The rumble of engines cut through the air, the sound echoing off the cliff face. Dirt clouds rose from the access road, and I counted at least three vehicles heading our way.
“About time,” Allie said, relief clear in her voice.
Dungar arrived first, galloping into the mining camp on his sorhox. He was followed by two cars holding Detective Fernandez and his team. They stopped at the edge of the camp, and armed figures poured out of all the doors.
Dungar took in the chumbles scattered across the clearing, some still pecking at scattered debris, others surging toward Will and his men when Tressa directed them.
Aunt Inla stood over an unconscious guard with her frying pan in hand, and Holly was still chastising Max, who’d hung his head.
Beth stood on one side of the clearing, a kitchen knife in her hand, but her posture relaxed, as if pink birds swarming an abandoned mining camp was another Tuesday for her.
“What in the world?” Dungar called out, gaping around at the furor.
“Tressa organized a rescue,” Allie said. “With help from some very angry chumbles.”
Detective Fernandez approached us, his weapon drawn but pointed at the ground. His eyes swept the camp, taking in every detail.
“Where’s Carmichael?” he asked.
I nodded toward the mine, where muffled cursing drifted from the darkness. “Trapped inside with at least three of his men. Tressa and the chumbles are keeping them there.”
As if she’d heard her name, Tressa backed away from the mine entrance, her job done. The chumbles, freed from her direction, scattered into the forest with indignant shrieks, their chumble crumbles peeping and scurrying behind them.
Tressa bounded across the clearing to us, her tongue lolling and wearing what could only be described as a wolfish grin.
I sank to one knee and wrapped my arms around her.
“Good Tressa,” I said. “Such a good pup.”
She licked my face, her tail wagging so hard her entire body wiggled, before she raced over and stuffed her wet nose against Allie’s hand.
Detective Fernandez and his men approached the mine entrance, their weapons lifted.
“Will Carmichael,” he shouted. “Federal agents. Come out with your hands visible.”
“Don’t shoot.” Frustration and fear tightened Will’s voice. Gone was the slick tone he’d used while threatening me. “We’re coming out.”
One by one, they emerged, blinking at the bright sunlight. Scratches covered Will’s face from bird pecks, and his carefully styled hair stood up in tufts. His men came out with him, all looking equally rough, their clothes torn and their faces covered with angry red welts.
They kept their hands up, their eyes darting around the clearing like they thought more chumbles would attack them. Which they might if they were riled up enough.
“That was easier than I expected,” Detective Fernandez said as his team cuffed the prisoners.
Will’s gaze met mine, his face twisted with hate. “This isn’t over.”
“Actually, it is,” I said. Allie’s hand on my arm steadied me. Her touch was all I needed. “Detective, he h-h-hinted that he’d killed Howard Wilson and Simon Blackstone. He talked about it like-like it was normal business.”
Fernandez nodded. “We’ll question him about that. We have some solid charges already, including kidnapping, assault, and whatever else we can make stick.”
As they loaded Will and his men into the cars, my brothers rode their sorhoxes into the clearing. Greel’s face showed relief, anger, and amazement all at once. Dirt covered his clothes, and he was breathing hard as he strode over to my side.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his hands hovering over my cuts.
“I’m fine. Just a few cut-cuts and bruises.”
Ostor and Tark dismounted from their sorhoxes, Sel and Ruugar not far behind.
“Max pinned a note to the front of the jail,” Dungar said, joining us. “Good thing he did, or we wouldn’t have known where to find you.”
“Will created a diversion,” Sel said as the cars pulled away. “Carmichael’s people led us away while they grabbed Hail.”
Greel’s jaw tightened. “We should’ve seen it coming.”
“No one could have predicted this,” Allie said. “Will must’ve been planning this for weeks, watching us, waiting for the right time.”
My brothers seemed to realize how close we’d come to disaster.
“So while we were running around the outskirts of town, our mates organized a rescue with kitchen tools and angry chumbles?” Ostor sounded impressed.
“Tressa found the chumbles.” Allie stroked the wolf’s head. “She somehow knew to bring them here when we needed help.”
Everyone looked at the white wolf sitting beside me, looking smug. She’d saved the day, and she knew it. Her tail wagged, thumping the ground.
“Let’s get you home,” Greel said, looking at my cuts. “Where we can clean those properly.”
“That would be wonderful,” I said, swaying. The rush of energy was wearing off, leaving me bone-tired and aching all over.
Allie frowned. “If you start showing signs of a concussion?—”
“I’ll let you know.” I tugged her close again, putting my arm around her.
“You’d better,” she said with a heavy sigh.
The next morning, I sat on our front porch with my head and wrists wrapped in clean bandages. My head still throbbed with each heartbeat, but the cuts were healing well. Allie had done a good job caring for my injuries, her gentle touch better than any doctor’s.
The morning air smelled like pine and wildflowers. Birds sang in the deep grass, their cheerful songs strange after what happened yesterday. The normal feeling of it all seemed unreal after what we’d been through.
Will was in custody, facing charges that would keep him locked up for a long time if the jury agreed.
Fernandez had called to say Will was already talking, trying to make deals about other stolen art, the deaths.
The paintings Allie’s father had supposedly stolen were still missing, but that was a problem for another day.
“Tea?” Allie appeared in the doorway with two steaming mugs.
“Please.” I took one, breathing in the minty scent. The warmth felt good in my hands.
“Any news from t-town?” I asked, putting my free arm around her as she sat beside me on the extra-large chair.
“Holly called. Margaret and her husband will be here anytime to help fix it.” She sounded amazed, like she couldn’t believe people would care enough to come all this way to help what were basically strangers. “And Sel says everyone in town is volunteering as well.” Allie leaned into my side.
“Good. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
The pottery barn wasn’t only a business. It had brought our community together. It was where visitors and locals created beautiful things, where being human or orc didn’t matter.
“I still can’t believe it’s over.”
“The immediate threat is,” I said carefully. Will was locked up, but questions remained about the stolen paintings and what Allie’s father had been involved in. The mystery wasn’t solved, though we’d put that on hold. “We’re sa-safe now.”
“I love that,” she said softly.
The town was starting to wake up, and I could just make out people walking along the boardwalk, tourists and locals starting another day in our peaceful valley. That peace was fragile, maintained by ordinary people willing to stand up for each other.
“What are you thinking about?” Allie asked, following my gaze.
“How our mates handled yesterday.” I smiled, remembering Aunt Inla with her frying pan, Holly’s rolling pin, Jessi’s determination, and Beth’s calm even when Max disobeyed and could’ve been seriously injured. “I imagine my brothers are still proc-processing it.”
“We’re not helpless.”
“Not one bit.”
But I kept seeing her kneeling beside my chair, her hands shaking as she cut the ropes, her voice breaking when she inspected my wounds. I’d remember how much she’d risked and how close we came to losing everything we’d found together for a very long time.
Movement on the road leading into town caught my eye, a line of vehicles approaching, dirt clouds trailing behind. As they got closer, I made out cars and trucks loaded with people and supplies.
“Looks like Margaret isn’t the only one coming back,” Allie said.
My phone buzzed with a text from Sel: Pottery barn rebuild starts soon. Bring work gloves if you’re feeling up to it.
I showed Allie the message, and she smiled.
“Ready to get b-b-back to work?”
“More than ready.” I finished my tea and stood carefully, testing my balance. The dizziness was mostly gone, leaving only a subtle ache in my muscles. “Let’s go see what our community has planned.”
As we walked toward town with Tressa trotting beside us, I thought about how much had changed in the past few weeks. Allie arrived running from her past, afraid and alone. Now she belonged to something bigger and was surrounded by people who would face armed criminals to protect her.
Will’s final words echoed in my mind, “This isn’t over.” The stolen paintings were still missing, and others might be looking for them. Yesterday’s victory felt complete, but I sensed it was just the first battle in a longer war.
Still, watching Allie’s face as she saw the volunteers coming, I knew we’d built something worth fighting for.
Something that could handle whatever might come next.