Chapter 12
Twelve
Bex
It takes me longer than expected to get my dress on with my skin damp from the water. Garrett is done before me, and when he comes down the tunnel, I’m putting on my boots.
“The spirit showed you an attack?”
I nod. “I thought it was happening in real time, but she said no—it was to come.”
“You stay here, and I’ll go tell Booker and Murphy. No one will find you here if I push the shrub over the cave entrance.”
“Don’t you dare!” I snap, leaving the laces of my boots untied and finish fastening the last few buttons along the high collar of my dress. “I’m coming with you!”
“Like hell you are!” he says, stepping closer as if his towering height would intimidate me.
Maybe before my encounter with the Spirit of the Land, but now that everything is unlocked…oh, hell no. I feel like a new woman.
I push past him. “Please. I can have you on your ass lying on the ground in a heartbeat.” Or at least I think I can.
I’ve yet to test my newfound strength, which makes me even more anxious to get to the surface.
Then I feel the dust shifting behind my chest, and somehow I know exactly what it’s preparing to do.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
“And besides,” I say with a smirk before the power works its magic, “I’m already gone.
” Then, as if my mind is holding a rope to my destination, I pull hard at the invisible tether anchored at the spot where I want to go.
My body turns to a giant dust cloud, and I feel weightless.
I can still see the world around me, enjoying Garrett’s startled expression and him almost tripping over his own feet, as I travel faster than the wind up to the surface.
Releasing the tether, my body reappears outside.
My feet stagger about a bit before turning and racing out from behind the rock formation.
Booker and Murphy are there, firearms in hand, searching their surroundings. The moonlight casts a pale light, though it’s still hard to see movement out in the prairie. Booker’s hound dogs are barking from the cabin in the distance.
“Wolves,” I say. “The Spirit of the Land showed me we’d be attacked by wolves.”
“Not wolves,” Booker clarifies. “Werewolves.”
Oh. Shit.
“The spirit showed me the attack, except they were wolves not in human form,” I tell Booker.
“Yeah, well, the Spirit of the Land sees those before her as their aberrant lineage. So a werewolf, in their human or wolf body, would be seen as a wolf.”
“Huh, that’s interesting.”
Movement through the tall grass out somewhere in the dark has all three of us looking in the same direction. I can do this. The knowledge is there. My body knows how to fight. I just need to embrace everything and be confident.
“What happens if I get bitten?” I ask under my breath, searching the darkness.
“Don’t,” he says, then stands erect, on alert. His head cocks slightly as if he hears something.
“What is it?” Murphy asks, short-barrel shotgun ready in his arms.
“It’s just me,” Garrett grumbles, coming around from behind the rock formation with the lantern in one hand. He grabs the rifle and gets in line with the rest of us.
“The you-know-what back in its place?” Booker asks.
“Yeah, and I covered the rope with dirt.” He sets the lantern down, and the glow makes it harder to see movement in the distance. Turning it off is also not an option as once the fighting begins, we’ll need ample lighting.
“Good. Don’t need these pieces of shit knowing where that healing pool is.”
The water is also a place to heal? I pocket that piece of information for when I need it. If I’m going to be living out in this forsaken territory, I imagine there may come a time when we’ll need some magic healing water.
A howl breaks the silence.
“They’re coming,” Booker says. To me, he offers a pistol from his holster around his waist.
I wave a hand at him. “I don’t like guns.
Besides, I know what I’m doing now.” With concentrated thought, I imagine a dust cloud forming in my palm, and one does.
It’s beautiful. As though I’m holding a miniature storm in my hand.
When I close my fist, the storm dissipates, sand cascading through my fingers.
The sorrow that reflects in his eyes confuses me, but then I recall that he and Persephone were lovers. I’m the new dustslinger, yes, but I’ll never replace what she meant to him or the people she protected. I’ll have to be something else to them.
“You good?” I ask, and he nods, shaking off the moment.
His arm goes out straight in front of me and pushes me back.
I stumble, almost tripping over the bottom of my dress just as a slender form lunges out from the darkness, straight for me.
The creature tumbles into a somersault, then bounces up with a spin before landing on its feet facing us.
“Hello, Booker. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you at the pack meetings.
Oh wait, you’ve been banned from the pack meetings.
” Her cackle is high-pitched and quite annoying.
Two more werewolves creep their way out of the shadows and into the small circle of lantern light. “Lookie here,” the broader of the men says. His hair is long and scruffy, with a dark beard to match. “Did you bring your food out to play?”
“You gonna share?” the other asks. This one is shorter than I am, but just as hairy as the broad werewolf guy. Both have tufts of hair trailing down the bridge of their nose.
Behind them three giant wolves pace. Aside from their lighter underbellies, their fur is dark. Their glowing yellow eyes are focused on us.
“You aren’t welcome on my plot, and as an alpha, you can either bow to me or get the fuck off my land!” Booker heaves in shallow breaths as he seethes. “Leave now!”
The shorter wereman tsks then shifts his mouth into a wicked smile. “Nice try, old man. We know pack law. Anyone who pledges loyalty to a banned alpha gets put on the kill list.”
“I don’t want to be your fucking alpha,” Booker says between gritted teeth.
“No,” the werewoman chimes in, her long, dark, unkempt hair clearly in need of a good wash and brush.
“But the second we follow one of your orders it could be mistaken as an act of loyalty.” Dry dirt smears her forehead and cheeks, and she has a patch of hair trailing the bridge of her nose, like her two male companions, except it’s not as thick as theirs.
The taller wereman takes a step closer. My gaze dips, I swear his fingernail-claws are extending even longer.
“We have a message for you,” the werewomen says, stalking over. I sidestep out of the way, letting her approach Booker without interference. “Cletus wants to remind you of your place.”
I’m not sure what their meaning is. How are they going to remind him of his place? Then Garrett shouts, “It’s against pack law to attack another alpha! Regardless of his banned status!” The intruders don’t acknowledge his presence. The wolves circling us in the tall grass move closer to Garrett.
“You do this, and I have the right to bring it to the council,” Booker says with a low growl.
“Go for it, old man,” the short one taunts.
“We can take ‘em,” Murphy says, cocking the rifle.
“No, you can’t,” Booker warns in a threatening tone. “Do not engage. Back away and let me handle this. Getting involved only makes things worse for everyone.”
The sheriff whistles while holding an arm out, waving to step back, and Murphy obliges. Garrett gestures for me to follow, but something inside of me snaps. I’ll not stand by and watch Booker be attacked.
“I’m with Murphy. Let’s dance,” I say, excited for my first fight—my chance to see what this unlocked knowledge and power can do.
Like before, my body pulls on that invisible rope, and I disappear in a burst of dust before reappearing right next to the shorter man.
He snarls at me, razor-like nails extending out from the tips of his fingers.
“Dustslinger!” he shrieks, then releases a howl up into the night sky. The wolves around us also start howling.
I slam my foot into his side, which causes his howl to become a painful whimper. Garrett and Booker shout my name, while the other two werewolves move shoulder to shoulder, deep growls reverberating up from their throats.
A loud boom ignites, and I turn to see smoke slipping out of the end of the shotgun barrel. I follow its path and see the woman holding a clawed hand over her shoulder, blood seeping out from behind it.
“You’ll pay for that, you thievin’ rustler,” she seethes.
Meanwhile, I let the sand from my arm collect with more sand from the ground and form a long rope. I whip it out and the end wraps around the shorter man, tying his arms to his sides. My thoughts command the rope to squeeze, and it does, grains of sand trickling free from the sandrope.
Another shot echoes through the air, and the man I’ve secured flies back, the sandrope exploding from the bullet. The man doesn’t get up. Blood stains the red dirt beneath his lifeless body.
Seeing his lifeless body lying there startles something inside me. I stare at the man who will never take another breath, never speak another word, and never see another day. That’s how fast everything can end. Is that how fast Levi’s last moments went down?
The wolves growl and snap their jaws, but they don’t advance.
Distracted by their presence, I’m caught off guard when someone slams into me.
I’m thrown hard onto the ground. The pain from the abrupt fall has me struggling to replace the air forced from my lungs.
The wereman rolls onto his side and claws at the earth, trying to grab me.
Amidst trying to escape, I find the strength to breath again.
He eventually gets hold of my ankle and drags me closer until I’m pinned beneath her.
“Get off of me!” I scream. His face is inches from mine, breathing heavy, hot breaths onto my face.
The dust within me is frantic, rattling my bones as if it had a voice and were screaming for me to move. But I can’t. Instead, I turn my head to the side, not wanting to look death in the face.
“Bex!” Garrett shouts, and I open my eyes to see him running toward us, the barrel of his weapon aimed at the aberrant on top of me. “Vanish! Do that disappearing thing—now!”
Working through my fears, I do as he says and I reach for that invisible tether. My body poofs into a giant dust cloud as I transport myself from under my assailant to over where Booker and Murphy stand.
The wereman abruptly gets up and is immediately met with the end of Garrett’s rifle. “Consider your next move carefully,” Garrett warns.
The aberrant bares his sharp canine teeth, growling at Garrett. But the werewoman, still holding a hand to the hole in her injured shoulder, tugs at his arm. “Let Cletus deal with them. You know what happens when you face off with a dustslinger.”
He growls again, but then his expression slackens, and he smiles. “You started this, Sheriff. Not us. You.”
“We didn’t start shit!” I say, cursing out loud for the first time too. It feels liberating. “You came here looking for trouble!”
The broad-shouldered one hoists the fallen werewolf over his shoulder before he and the werewoman run off, the wolves trailing behind. Before they get too far, the woman shouts, “We’ll be seeing you!” with a cackle in her voice.
Once they’re gone, Booker looks at me with disappointment. “The Spirit of the Land might have given you knowledge about your powers and abilities, but she sure as hell didn’t give you the rule book about Graveyard Territory.”
“What?” I exclaim, following the three men back to Booker’s home. “They were going to kill you! I had to do something!”
Garrett turns to me. “Maybe. But it’s not our place to get involved. The moment you do, their fight becomes our fight.”
“And?” I ask. “We could’ve taken them,” I say with a rejuvenated sense of strength.
He shakes his head. “No, not our fight.” He points to me and the two men making their way into Booker’s home. “Everyone in our clan. And our clan isn’t just us three. You just brought the fight to the people of Gravers Junction.”
Well, damn. I guess there’s still a lot to learn about the aberrant world and its rules.