Chapter 2
TWO
I’d kept the sticky note with her name, studying it while downing a glucose packet.
The RV smelled of this morning’s burnt breakfast and drowned in wayward clothes left behind by a scrambled attempt to get ready.
It was a dream to be back inside its safety.
An almost perfect end to a long day, if not for my lightheadedness.
But thanks to the packet, it would fade in about fifteen minutes.
The event day had stretched too long, and I mirrored its fast pace the way I’d promised myself I’d stop doing.
My team’s voices were muffled background noise as I came back to myself after performing for a crowd of hundreds.
Once I could stomach taking in information again, I unlocked my phone and opened my email.
I typed in the rancher’s name, a woman who’d toggled between frustration and wonderment.
She’d waited for hours just to give me the look one might offer a salesperson knocking despite a No Solicitors sign.
I almost felt as if I should have apologized to her for coming to my table.
“Don’t,” December warned from her spot at our little kitchen nook. Her reflection was in the rearview. She wasn’t even looking at me, gaze trained on her scratched-up laptop that’d been decorated with national park stickers.
“Just catching up on emails.” I adjusted in my seat so my shoulder blocked my screen.
“Forget it. That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” Her voice was monotone.
I was three years older than my cousin, but she bossed me around just as much (and as easily) as my older sisters had.
Since I was the youngest in my family, my body acclimated to orders.
But thankfully, before I could automatically yield to December this time, I came back to my senses.
I was a twenty-eight-year-old woman, perfectly capable of making my own decisions, especially for my business.
“Jonah?” December asked in a singsong voice. “Is she still looking at her email?”
Our driver, intern, occasional bodyguard, and designated middleman laughed nervously when I pressed my index finger to my lips. He raked his fingers through dark curls, revealing his rounded cheeks.
“Well?” December stopped typing, the pause like a maternal threat. One look and the woman could coax out a nervous confession.
“I’m kind of driving, you know? And you aren’t so…I don’t know. Confirm it yourself? Maybe? Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound rude.” Jonah’s blinking was rapid.
“Don’t guilt the guy into doing your dirty work.
” A smile dampened Nico’s chide. He’d come from the back, his camera gear in hand so he could back up his footage like I’d been warning him to do for weeks.
My go-to researcher and part-time tech guru held our livelihood in the palm of his hands.
Our behind-the-scenes videos were half of our income nowadays.
“He doesn’t know how to turn someone down just yet.” Nico fell onto the bench opposite December’s and dumped his equipment in front of them. “It’s the ‘yes, sir’ in him. We all had to go through it.”
Nico had been my best friend since before he transitioned.
Our parents had started the Guild, a group that would grow into the most reputable network for hunters.
Our childhood toggled between on-road experiences and boarding school academics.
The Guild had an education program by the time we hit our teenage years.
They trained us in the art of coloring in the lines, blind respect for our elders, and following the leader.
“I wouldn’t have dirty work if Rae didn’t insist on rolling in the mud.”
December’s glare burned through the back of my skull. I scoffed and typed the name, Octavia, into my email’s search bar. “This is hardly mud.”
“I beg to differ,” she said.
“How about you help me file these clips?” Nico nudged a storage bank toward her. “You can name the folders and everything.”
“Really?” December’s voice went up a few octaves, feigning flattery. “You mean I can avoid all the work I have to do for scheduling interviews, booking motels, and ordering repair parts to do your job? You really mean it?”
“I think he really means it.” I couldn’t resist egging her on.
Her tiny huff of disbelief had me chewing on my bottom lip to pin my laugh to the back of my throat.
The toxicity of finding endless entertainment in my sisters’ arguments ran deep within my veins, bleeding into all my other relationships.
“Both of you have Ds today,” Nico said flatly.
December gasped. I released my laughter.
“Minus for you,” Nico told her.
“How disappointingly emotional of you.” December shoved some of his stuff back to his side of the table. A power bank almost dropped off the table, but Nico’s reflexes were quick enough to save it.
“What’s a D?” Jonah asked me in a low voice.
As I pulled up the email with Octavia’s name, I said, “A grade.” The email was from Wilson Daniel.
He’d written to me a month ago. Like clockwork, every few days, he’d send over an email, each more desperate and jam-packed with info than the last. I chewed on my nail as I clicked on a spreadsheet detailing each abnormal occurrence ranked one out of ten.
He even outlined his method of measurement.
“An amateur who figured out how to graph the paranormal fluctuations in an environment,” I mumbled to myself, impressed.
“Why a grade?” Jonah asked.
I blinked, confused for a second before remembering Jonah had just gotten here two weeks ago.
“We calculate interaction GPAs. Grades to make sure we’re not being too weird to people who were better socialized than us as kids.
Being on the road without many peers will do that to a kid—December, why didn’t I see any of these? ”
Her gaze still bore holes through Nico, but she answered nonchalantly, “I started filtering them after the first one.”
I frowned and craned my neck to get a look at her. “What?”
“The claims are exaggerated to get to the front of the line.”
“And how do you know that?”
December blinked, her stiff spine somehow becoming far more rigid. I raised a brow and turned so my legs dangled over the cloth armrest.
“There are red flags everywhere. His writing started formal and devolved into desperation as he tacked on more to their story. And you saw that woman today. Who would wait hours to see someone only to criticize them for being a ‘gimmick’? A person who wants to stand out from the crowd and be picked is what I think.”
“She was too invested in something,” Nico agreed.
“Thank you.” December gestured to him. “See, I’m not wild for flagging the request…I should get a bump to at least a C for that.”
Nico shook his head. “No, you shouldn’t. It has nothing to do with it.”
“Guys, focus.” I shut my eyes for a second, trying to center my own off-balance. My lightheadedness returned.
“Rae?” December’s voice softened, paired with the gentle click of her laptop closing. “Are you okay? You’ve been closing your eyes like that all day. How’s the blood sugar?”
“It’s not my blood sugar. It’s the…point,” I muttered.
I wasn’t looking forward to being on the endless road again.
Showing up to the next job while wondering, what was the point?
Why were we investing in job after job when whatever progress we made in helping people seemed to last two seconds before another crisis?
Hunting wasn’t about permanently ridding the world of evil, a truth my entire family managed to stomach. I’d always had a difficult time internalizing that fact.
When I stepped away from the Guild, my original hope was that was when my true work would begin.
And maybe the needle would finally begin to shift after I broke away from all the Guild’s strict guidelines.
But every new job had gotten more dangerous.
The paranormal felt far more hostile compared to when my parents were in the field.
Each year, things seemed to get worse, not better. Inside the Guild or out, it didn’t matter.
“The point?” Nico’s tone lowered with worry, too.
I blew out a breath, ignoring Jonah’s curious sideways glance.
His hands kept moving between ten and two, and seven and five on the wheel.
My mood was a weather forecast for the team.
I was the weatherperson in control of how to put a spin on it.
A rainy day can be “much needed” and not “should stay indoors.”
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “Just, December, you’re an assistant, not my boss. Don’t add filters to my email if I don’t tell you to.”
“You asked me to organize,” she said. “So, I organized.”
“Not to where you’re hiding shit in folders I don’t know exist.” I twirled my finger in a circle. “Communication. If this is going to work long term, we all need to get better at communicating.”
“Fair,” December said begrudgingly. It was silent for a second before she added, “You’re a B plus, by the way. I like the straightforward feedback.”
I smiled at the gentleness of the compliment. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” December reopened her laptop. “I don’t allow personal feelings to color my ability to form an opinion of a situation…unlike some individuals.”
“That’s why I pay you the big bucks,” I teased.
Nico chuckled. He muttered something under his breath only December could hear. I tuned out their fresh back-and-forth, zoning in on Wilson Daniel’s first email.
Dear Rae Jones,
My name’s Wilson Daniel. My sister, Octavia, and I own a horse ranch that’s about eight hundred acres in Alpine Peak, Colorado. It’s called Elmwood. And though my name’s next to hers on the deed, the place belongs to her.
As kids, we moved around a lot. Her more than me since she lived with our father.
And I with my mother. And because of that, she doesn’t know what roots feel like.
How deep they can go. But I am determined to change that.
Elmwood lights her up. She wants to open a boarding and retirement stable for horses.
A safe place for them to find the peace she’s found in them.