Chapter 29
Road
The bang hurts my ears, and my wrist aches from the recoil, but what counts is that the damn thief’s bleeding, his foot a mess of flesh and bone inside the moccasin he’s wearing.
The workers shriek, pulling back, as if they fear I’ll target them next, but even Creep frowns, lowering his feet to the floor. I know what he’s thinking. This isn’t a place for bullets. I could have beaten the bastard to show the others what happens to traitors, then maybe shot him somewhere more convenient, away from equipment, but this really isn’t my day.
Yeti lets go of Rog who drops to his knees sobbing and swearing at me. If he thinks that’s gonna fly, he has another thing coming.
I’m not sure what’s happening when Creep charges at me, straight from the table, like a mountain lion pouncing its prey. Fuck it. I’m ready for a fight. I had every right to shoot Rog. In fact, I even had the right to kill him for what he did.
Creep crashes into me, and we both fall, then roll over the ground. Just as that happens, a massive stalactite drops from the roof of the cave right where I was standing. It shatters into several large rocks.
“I said, no shooting in the caves!” Creep hisses in my face as we both catch our breaths. My back stiffened as we fell, and I only now let my neck relax, so my head rests on the rocky floor. The sudden change of position awakens the earlier nausea, and I cough, shutting my eyes to stop the world from spinning .
Creep shifts on top of me and grabs my T-shirt. “No. Shooting. In. The. Caves.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re the master of spelunking, I get it,” I say, shoving him off so I can roll to my hands and knees and pull myself up. It’s embarrassing to have people see me like this, and I could have died, but the one thing I can do is smile and move on.
Olivia’s standing over Rog, gloved hands clasped over her mouth. “You’re such a fucking idiot,” she says, as if seeing him get shot gave her the ick.
He’s too terrified to argue with her, and I come over, shoving him to his front so I can get handcuffs on his wrists.
“We were just hooking up.”
“What?” I look up at Olivia, who clears her throat.
“I’m not, like, his girlfriend.”
“What am I, your priest? Why should I care?” I ask, and she takes a step back, trying to hide behind the other workers. I suppose she doesn’t want to let Rog’s mistakes affect her, though I make a mental note to keep an eye on her. Just in case.
“What the fuck was that?” Prophet yells from afar, before even reaching the cave we’re in. “No shooting in the caves!”
I let out a low growl, because I really don’t need to hear this again. At least Yeti doesn’t wait and hauls a limping, bleeding, sobbing Rog past Prophet who must already know what this is about.
“Nothing happened,” I say, shooting to my feet so fast the walls sway around me again, and Creep grabs my arm, keeping me from losing my footing. I fucking hate him sometimes for noticing everything . “It’s all good. We’ll deal with that thief.”
Prophet shakes his head. “Come with me,” he says, but it sounds like an order. While we do have a hierarchy, my bond with Prophet is about much more than being his subordinate. We’re friends, brothers. Still, I don’t question him and follow, because I’m not about to argue in front of other people.
It’s not like I had other plans anyway, since Clyde isn’t waiting for me in a boat by the lake, already preparing pancakes and bacon.
Life’s not fucking fair.
Prophet leads the way outside, then past the building hiding the entry into the ravine, and toward the lake.
I roll my eyes. “I’m going to puke if she makes me drink any tea right now. ”
As soon as we emerge into bright sunlight, I have to squint, because it feels like an assault on my senses.
“Noted. No tea, but I was actually going to straight up ask you what’s up first. You’ve been a mess the last three days, and I can’t have that from my enforcer. Road. Is this about Blondie? You’ve been like this since you came back that night.”
Talking to him is like trying to get to safety crossing a river of hot lava, but I’m not about to lie down and wait for it to burn me. “Since when are you so interested in the girls I sleep with?” I ask as we come close to the lakeshore, where some of our people are enjoying a nice day in the sun.
Prophet rolls his eyes at me and crosses his arms. Which are kinda hot. Muscular and tattooed. Did I just block that part of me so hard that I refused to even acknowledge such things? Clyde’s words hit me again. That I should fuck Prophet, or something along those lines. Is it possible that he was truly jealous and it triggered that whole frenzy in the motel on top of my reveal?
“Since you’re acting all fucked up about it. First you sneak around, and now you’re like a grizzly woken up in the middle of his winter sleep. There’s plenty of fish in the sea if she turned out to be—”
“Shut your mouth,” I growl at him, capturing his gaze with a scowl that has him stumbling over the root of a tree. “You don’t know her. There’s no one else like her!”
His bright green eyes widen, but I don’t regret a word I said. Yeah, I’m pretending we’re talking about a girl, but I need to get it out somehow . It feels like my heart is rotting, and no one can see.
“So… what happened?” Prophet’s voice becomes softer and he pats my back. It’s a small gesture, I’m tempted to shrug it off, but I do appreciate it.
We slow down, making our way from the shore, past the now-empty volleyball court, toward Brigid’s cottage by the woods. My chest feels as if I packed it full of old lead bullets that are now slowly leaking poison into my system. I might not be able to pull Clyde against me, so getting comfort from Prophet has to be the next best thing. Even if he’d break my neck if he knew who I’m talking about.
“She was worried her family wouldn’t like her to date… you know, a biker, but everything was going well until she realized what I actually do. That I’m not just in it for the fun of riding a motorcycle. ”
It doesn’t even begin to cover what actually happened, but I can’t risk telling on myself, so it’ll have to do.
Prophet nods, absentmindedly grabbing a pendant on one of his amulets. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be then, brother. You need someone who will embrace all of you.”
My heart whirs, as if it turned into a blender and started liquefying my insides. “No! You don’t get it! She is the one! She gets me. She looks at me in a way no one before him did. I don’t want any other!”
Prophet gives me the side-eye. “Okay, let’s… see what the cards say, hm? No tea.” It’s like he just came up with that, but we’ve been walking in the direction of Brigid’s house all along.
I don’t even know if Clyde misses me, or if he’s happy to be rid of the parasite that tried to burrow inside his chest. I hope he does. I hope he’s also thinking back to the dumb jokes exchanged by the fire, that he’s dreaming of my lips, and my presence at his side. I can’t get his sleeping face out of my head, and each time I wake up, it’s what I hope to see on the pillow next to me.
But I’m always disappointed.
Is there even a way to get him back after everything I’ve done?
I can’t take back what I did to his brother, but even if I could, I’d do it again, because the fucker deserved it, so we’re in a catch-22.
“Yeah, okay. Fine,” I tell Prophet and quicken my pace, because I’ve got nothing to lose.
We pass through a low gate that leads into the extensive herb garden where Luna is working on something under a giant sunhat. She reminds me of a baby bird with how dainty her wrists are, and when she glances at me with a shy smile and a little wave, I’m only more convinced that Roy got what he deserved.
But how do I make Clyde understand that? There’s a war brewing, we got some intel about the other Butcher chapter joining Grizzly’s at their clubhouse, and what if the next time I see Clyde I witness him getting shot? What if it’s Prophet who sends a bullet between those lovely blue eyes? I know he’s itching to.
“I’m gonna be sick,” I mumble just as we walk into Brigid’s home.
She frowns at me but rushes over with a bucket.
I grab it out of her hands and sink into a couch, my cheekbone and forehead resting against the edge of the plastic. A moment passes, and so does my nausea, but I let out a growl, surrounding myself with its echo.
Why does my life have to be so fucked-up? Why couldn’t Clyde be just a guy I met at a bar? Getting to grips with being in love with a man would be difficult enough, but at least it wouldn’t feel so… impossible.
“I’m okay.”
Prophet pats my back. “Road’s got some questions we think only the cards can answer.”
I don’t know if that’s how I’d put it, but fuck it. At this point, I’ll take any help I can get.
“Is everything okay?” A soft voice asks, and I peek over the edge of the bucket to glimpse Luna, who stepped inside behind us. She’s petite, and likely barefoot, so no wonder I didn’t hear her approach.
“Just…”
“Girl trouble,” Prophet tells her for me, and I hide in the bucket again. I don’t like this dark house that smells of herbs, sage smoke, and incense. Unless I’m getting a tattoo done, my presence here always involves Brigid asking me questions that push my thoughts to places I’d rather they don’t go. For a moment, I consider wiggling out of whatever’s coming my way by discussing a new design I want somewhere on my body, but what do I know? Maybe Brigid does have insight into my current problem?
I rise to my feet and place the bucket by the wall before padding to the little table in the corner with my head held low. The bunches of herbs and flowers drying under the ceiling were my first experience of the community that over time became my real family. It’s been fifteen years, but I still remember the moment I woke up on Brigid’s couch, with heat radiating from the fireplace. With heavy eyeliner and dark, stormy locks, she scared me, but that first meal she served me was better than anything I’d received from my parents. I still don’t believe in all the spiritual stuff she’s into, but I trust her. And right now, I am ready to try any approach that might offer me a chance to get Clyde back.
“Do your worst.”
Brigid gives me a long look, and one gesture of her slender, black-nailed hand sends Prophet outside. “Luna, make Road a coffee. Decaf.” She strokes my head in passing, and the gesture is so motherly I feel like crying.
I’ve shot someone’s foot off, but all these feelings I can’t deal with are pulling me apart.
Brigid sits down opposite me. “I know you don’t trust the cards, so maybe… we’ll try something different today. More grounded.” She pulls close a large wooden box, and re veals that it’s filled with skulls and bones of animals. I hear Luna switching on the gas in the kitchen and focus on its whisper as I stare at the collection of remains. Brigid asks me to blindly select three, and I close my eyes, reaching into the container.
Old bones don’t feel like you’d expect. They’re not cold, nor damp, and when I skim my fingers over something that feels like a spine, I marvel at how smooth and pleasant it is. Almost like a lighter kind of wood.
I pick what she asked for and glance at my collection. One skull, the small bone with a ridge, and an elongated piece that might have been part of an animal’s leg once.
“What now?”
Luna puts a cup in front of me, then leaves without a word. Did I really spend so much time choosing the right bones? What would they be ‘right’ for anyway? I don’t know, but it felt that my relationship with Clyde hinges on them, so I couldn’t risk picking the wrong ones.
Brigid hums and inspects each of my choices. “This is a bobcat’s skull. Interesting. You might think, because of those fangs, that they are vicious, but they’re in fact shy and secretive creatures, rarely seen in daylight. Would you say this describes the person you came to ask about?”
It’s generic and could have described about half of the population, but I decided to give this a chance, so I nod and rub my face, thinking back to the way Clyde’s face blooms pink whenever I’d say something dirty. But he loves it, I know he does.
“I think so. Moves like a wildcat too, with this… grace most people don’t have,” I tell her, sinking deeper into the chair. Once again, I’m back at the motel, deep inside him, with his legs around my hips, and he’s watching me with this intense want. I couldn’t look away.
I never knew sex could bring me so close to someone. Not just physically, but on a whole other level of trust, and desire, and being seen .
Brigid’s focus is on the small bone as she turns it in her fingers with a frown. “Did she get cold feet, or do you think there was something more to the problem? This is part of a mole’s leg. It suggests to me that the problem you are facing is buried deep. Or that one of you was blind to it.”
The hairs at the back of my neck bristle, and I squeeze my wrist with the other hand as I chew through the accuracy of that comment. How would she know that ?
“Er… yes. She found out things I didn’t want her to know, because stuff was difficult enough from the start,” I mumble, avoiding Brigid’s gaze at all cost, because now I worry that if she glances deep into my eyes, she will be able to read the truth straight from my soul. “There was a moment when I had to tell her, and she… didn’t take it well. She’s refusing to talk now. Stopped taking my calls.”
As pathetic as it is to share this, Brigid is like a good priest, who will never reveal the secrets confessed to her.
“And you wish to get her back?” She picks up the skull and looks into the empty eye sockets as if she’s able to stare into Clyde’s eyes and see right through him to tell me his secrets.
“I need to,” I tell her, only now realizing my feet have been tapping against the floor like I’m a two-tailed dog. “I don’t know what to do. Everything was going so well, but I feel he didn’t listen to everything I had to say and cut me off, and I’m so damn lost.”
The air I inhale smells almost choking, yet sweet, and I meet Brigid’s gaze at last. “Maybe you could send her a dream about me? Come up with a spell that’s good for such things?”
She swallows and squeezes my hand. “If you have something that belongs to this person, I could try. There is a ritual I could do for you. But you have to help me understand why they are so important.”
My bones turn into rock, and I can almost feel the chair giving in under my weight as my heart sinks deeper into my chest, pumping blood at a frantic pace. “I’m… not good at this kind of stuff. I don’t know why she’s so important, but whenever I think about never getting to touch her again, it’s like a fucking life sentence. I can’t live like that. I never thought anyone could be like this with me. She just gets me for real. Like she’s the bike, and I’m gasoline, you know? We belong together.”
“Bring me something from your motorcycle as well then.” She knows she’s asking for a lot. Every guy’s bike is their sacred vehicle. But that only makes me feel she understands how serious I am. I’d give her Smokey and let her drown it in the lake if that meant Clyde coming back to me.
“I’ve got her T-shirt. I’ll bring it.” It’s men’s, but girls wear men’s T-shirts all the time. It shouldn’t be too suspicious.
Brigid nods. “You can’t send any more messages or call. She might still choose to pull away from you, and you will have to accept that. But if you feel there has been a misunderstanding, that you didn’t get closure, you should write her a letter. Ink on paper. It needs to be tangible. I can check it for you if you’d like,” she adds, because yeah, she knows my spelling is shit. The things I need to say to Clyde though? No one else can see them. They’re too private, too telling. They’d make her tell the whole truth to Prophet, and I can’t—
A loud knocking makes me jerk my head up in time to see my prez enter. I’m surprised he didn’t wait for Brigid’s invitation, but one look at his somber features shuts me up. He meets my gaze.
“The other chapter of the Butchers has arrived.”
“Fuck.” I get up, because this means I’ll be needed for a meeting at the clubhouse.
“Wait! Road?” Brigid picks up the elongated bone with a frown. “This one I cannot decipher. It’s from a rooster. Maybe it’s something you know about her that will be helpful to you. Does she own chickens? This is close to her heart and means a lot to her.”
I bite my cheek hard. The chicken I whittled for Clyde.
“No idea,” I mumble or my voice might crack.
If it’s important, I must still have a chance.