Chapter 21 Theron
Chapter Twenty-One
Theron
Hidden by the slight curve in the lane, I still have a great view of the jetty arriving because of my height.
I’m panting fast, trying to release the alcohol from my bloodstream. I swear the fumes are so strong they are bending the light prism in front of my eyes.
Something sobers me up real quick.
The door on the passenger side of Ben’s truck bursts open. Falling out in a furtive crouch, Aila scrambles along the side of the road, coming towards me in a blind panic.
She’s so intent on putting some distance between herself and the ferry that she doesn’t see me seated astride my Harley. I’m not surprised when she pulls up short a few yards away.
The pupils of her eyes show fear, but not because of me. That puts me on edge. It takes a lot to make my brave, beautiful Aila afraid. I am curious to know why she is running scared.
“Theron?”
Who else but me would be trailing you, Aila?
“Yep. Thought I’d come by and say—”
Her leg is up and she’s sliding behind me onto the seat before I can finish the long farewell speech I wanted to make.
Her voice is muffled as Aila hugs me round the waist and whispers harshly.
“Change of plans, Theron. I—I have to go back to Ben’s house.”
I’m not celebrating yet, because I know I’m not the reason for this sudden change of heart. This woman is giving me whiplash with her mood swings, damnit.
My hesitation seems to annoy her. Aila hugs my waist harder.
“Come on. Come on. Let’s go. I need to be dropped off at Ben’s house.”
It doesn’t make any sense. If she wants to head there, why doesn’t she just stay in the truck?
Starting the engine, I push back and reverse as Aila clings to me like a limpet, pressing her face against my back. “Let me take you to the inn instead of to Ben’s.” Because I am not letting you out of my sight until you tell me what in the fuck is going on.
Aila is paying me no mind. She’s fiddling with the helmet locked to the side of the bike trying to get it loose.
Getting off the bike, I hunker down and thumb the lock open. “You want to wear a helmet? I’m not gonna go fast.”
Pulling the helmet out of my hand, Aila crams it over her head and flips down the blacked-out visor.
“Please take me to Ben’s, Theron. I want my mom.”
She gives a startled jump when the tractor engine turns over. It begins to pull past us, dragging the wagon load of holidaymakers with it. The sound of their happy voices fills the air.
Flinging herself into my arms, Aila presses the helmet against my chest to hide her face.
Something is wrong. This is not how the Aila I know behaves. Where’s that cute swagger and teasing sparkle that attracted me right from the start?
The tension goes out of her body as the tractor noise fades away. Lifting the visor and then the helmet lets me see that Aila’s expression is ecstatic with relief.
“Oh, thank God, they’ve gone past us. Whew! That was close. I can go on the ferry now.” She shoves the helmet back into my hands and begins to step away from me. “Sorry for being so scatty, Theron, but I’ve changed my mind… again.”
Rolling her eyes like it’s such a joke that things are so crazy, Aila walks backwards as she explains.
“I am really sorry for jerking you around like this, but Minnesota might just be the safest place in the world for me right now. Thank you for making my stay here so wonderful. I promise to come visit when I can. I’ll mail my contact information once I know where I’m going to stay. ”
She waves, hanging her head to hide the triumph she’s feeling right now. Aila thinks she just beat someone at their own game, and I would love to know who that is—because it sure as hell ain’t me.
Reaching for her case at the back of Ben’s truck, Aila hoists it down and starts moving along the curve in the road, back towards the ferry. With the tractor harvest lights gone, the jetty and ferry have been plunged into darkness. But I can see she has no fear walking in the dark.
I hear Ben’s voice say, “Let me switch on the truck headlights, Monty. Allow you boys to see what you’re doing there. We should really get one of those solar powered arc lights installed here. Am I right?”
Ben sees Aila. “Let me take that suitcase for you, Aila. And then you can get right back into the truck. I thought we agreed that the best place for you right now was with your mom.”
Aila’s jaunty steps falter and stop. She freezes when she sees Monty standing on the ferry deck. He’s holding the vehicle handles as a man crouches down behind the ATV.
The last of the evening light fades, and everything goes from gray tones to black and white. Piercing the dark, my vampire eyes focus on every individual object in view.
Each blade of grass, every leaf and grain of sand, they are clearly etched in my vision. It’s too cloudy for the moon and stars to shine, but if they were, it would look like daylight to me.
I see the man is freeing the wheels from the rack that stops the vehicles from rolling around the deck when the ferry is in motion.
The man stands up when he hears Ben offer to take Aila’s case.
The scene imprints itself into my mind as time slows down.
Ben reaching for Aila’s suitcase. Her limp hand dropping the case with no resistance. And the excruciating uncertainty in her body language.
I have seen such movements before. Thousands of years ago, when I was still a human hunter, I would stalk the forests with my spear in hand as I preyed on the grazing reindeer.
One small twig snap, and the reindeer would act exactly like Aila is now.
Head up. Eyes round and wide. Still as a statue. Body poised for flight.
All the pieces start falling together as the man behind the ATV lifts his hand and makes a mocking salute.
“Hey, Aila.”
That’s all he says. No “how you doing?” and no “well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise!” None of that polite human bullshit. I guess that’s all he has to say under the circumstances.
I don’t believe in coincidences. I am too good a hunter to think that out of all the random people who applied to come and spend a holiday on Landslide, two guests would happen to be acquaintances.
It’s enough to make me leap into action.
Maybe I’m going a bit too fast; I’m trying not to overthink this.
The way I’m moving might look spontaneous, but everything I do has been carefully thought out a split second before.
There is no way I can protect Aila from the consequences of what she did before we met, but I sure as hell can help her now.
“I’ll take Aila back home, Ben. Can you bring her case?”
“Whoa!” Ben nearly falls over backwards. “Shee-it, Hunter. I didn’t see you coming in this darkness. Give a fella a heads-up next time, why don’t you? Nearly had me dead of a heart attack before my wedding night.”
Ignoring Ben, I tug at Aila’s arm. “Come.”
The girl’s almost sleepwalking, that’s how deep in shock she is. Time for me to take control of the situation. As I propel Aila away from the ferry, the man’s voice follows us.
“Aren’t you going to say hi, Aila? That’s not very friendly, is it?”
Monty sounds confused. “You two know each other? I thought you were with Miss Kelly and her two kids?”
I’m lifting Aila back onto the bike when Ben’s voice cuts through the night.
“Let me guess. You’re Piers Jordan, aren’t you?”
Aila starts to shake. Delayed shock, but it also reminds me of a deer’s dying throes after the spear has pierced its heart.
Many times, I have looked down at a moribund animal as it pants its last breath and voids its bowels and felt nothing. Too many times to remember. Why am I only now deeply affected by a creature’s cruel trauma?
I have to place Aila’s hands around my waist and remind her to hold on.
“Let’s go to Ben’s, darlin’. See your momma.”
After all the flipflopping Aila has done over the past few days, it is strange to see her so listless and beaten down. The only sign she gives me that lets me know she hasn’t given up is the way her hug gets stronger as we ride away.
Aila is a fighter. She just needs to remember that.
And her lover also happens to be one of the most ruthless vampires who ever sat astride a Harley.
Amelia is waiting on the porch as we cruise up the farm’s driveway. She must have been alerted by the sound of the motorcycle’s thrumming engine. Her eyes are narrowed with critical dislike, and her arms are crossed.
She has no love for me or mine, though Amelia is still on her friendly neighbor settings.
But when Amelia sees my clingy passenger, her frown turns all the way around.
The light coming from inside the house illuminates her face, but it would light up even if there was none.
“Baba! Aila! You changed your mind. Bless Ben. I knew he could convince you.”
The moment Amelia clocks Aila’s expression, she gears up into full-on helicopter mom mode as she ushers her daughter into the house.
“I’m sorry, darling. I should have told you, but I thought we would be safe spending the summer on Landslide together.”
Hunching her shoulders, Aila sits on the living room couch and hides her face by burying her head in her trembling hands and letting the riotous ringlets of her hair fall over her shoulders. I guess she doesn’t want her mom reading her features.
Ben’s dated furniture is still around, but the interior of the house has all those feminine touches that scream “female partner.” A vase of wildflowers. A tray laid with porcelain teacups and silver spoons. The scent of room freshener is heavy in the air.
In the silence, I hear Ben’s truck rattle past. He’s heading to the inn to drop off the luggage. Then he’ll be back here.
Amelia stomps up the wooden staircase and comes back down holding a plastic spray bottle and a comb.
She sits down next to her daughter and prods her until Aila turns her back.
In this optimal position, Amelia begins spraying the hair product onto her daughter’s hair, fluffing the long strands out and tutting.
“Tsk. Look at this mess. When I used to ride on motorcycles as a teen, I knew to tie my hair back before the biker hit the revs.”
We’re all aware that Amelia is trying to lighten the mood and change the subject, but it still works. Like a drowning person clutching at straws, Aila replies.
“You hung out with bikers, Mom? You naughty hussy, you!” It’s an effort for Aila to say the words cheerfully, but I’m pleased to see she’s making a push to sound normal.
Mother and daughter chuckle together as Amelia tugs the comb through Aila’s thick chestnut hair.
“Every woman must go through the obligatory biker phase during her rebellious teens. It’s part of the whole flying the coop thing.”
Even though she’s busy with the comb, I can see Amelia darting her eyes over to where I am standing at the door. She leaves me hanging there, not inviting me to sit or make myself at home.
“The eighties and nineties were something else. Boy bands on the one hand and Guns n’ Roses on the other. So, yes, Aila, I have sat on my fair share of Harleys.” Amelia stops combing and looks at me. “No judgement.”
It takes a second for me to realize that I’m being included in the conversation. It’s a real “Who, me?” moment. But I’m not feeling it.
“Aila, tell your mom what’s going on. Actually, it would be nice for you to fill me in, too.”
Amelia stands. “I know a lot more about how things are on Landslide than my daughter does, Mr. Hunter. Ben told me.”
The subtle dig she always gets in by getting my name wrong doesn’t bug me. I use both interchangeably, but I kinda love the way Aila has ruthlessly stuck to calling me Theron. I kinda love the way she says it too, with the proper tribal pronunciation: “T’rrron.”
I’m interested to know what Ben told her, so Amelia continues.
“How the Midnight Riders were the original settlers on this island when it was still thought of as a temporary mudslide. How the Riders came here on horseback, swimming their animals through the creek water. And all about the infrastructure your folks laid down before anyone else was here to reap the benefits.”
“Just doing our best to help, Ma’am.”
Amelia doesn’t pick up on the white hat, good cowboy bullshit I’m laying down with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“But… you are not what Aila needs in her life right now. ‘Kay?”
Sure, I give Aila the chance to stand up for me, but no. The two women stay seated on the couch like they’re in their own little bubble.
Fuck this shit. I am tempted to leave them to sort this mess out on their own.
A rumbling two-stroke engine sound is coming along the road from the jetty side.
My Harley’s outside, probably looking like a beacon.
Using my vampire speed and strength, I push my motorcycle down the road as far away from the entrance to Ben’s farm as I can get before getting it started.
My obsession can wait. The MC must come first.
The devil just rode into town—on a fucking quadbike.