Chapter Twenty-Two
Twenty-Two
Bex
It’s been three days since the attack, making it day six since Nina first left Gravers Junction.
She’ll hopefully be back today. With Maureen barely conscious as she recovers from the surgery her medics had to perform, and Garrett still absent, Ruby and Booker have taken to running things in town.
There’s a medic corridor farther down the underground tunnel at the opposite end of where the inn is, and that’s where we’ve moved all the injured folks.
It’s a large room with eight beds, every one of them filled with an injured person.
Some more dire than others, but Booker wanted them all in one place rather than the medics doing house calls to each of their homes.
Maureen is the only one isolated in her room.
Her home, also underground, is just below the inn.
There’s a large living room with a wood stove.
There are other rooms attached to the living space, but I don’t snoop to see what’s behind the doors.
Rather, I stick to the closest door after walking into her place.
She lies in her bed, a beautiful patchwork quilt spread out over her as she sleeps.
I refresh her pitcher of water before pouring the blood-soaked water from the basin into my pitcher.
“Bex,” Maureen whispers to me, stirring.
“You’re awake!” I say, excited she’s pulling through the worst of it. Setting the pitcher down, careful not to spill the bloody water, I sit on the edge of the bed to hold her hand. “I’m here.”
With dreadful anticipation, her eyes gloss over, tears ready to spill. “Did we lose anyone?”
I take a deep breath before answering her, not wanting to be the person who has to tell her. I nod. “Three people.”
Her chin trembles, and she brings a hand to her mouth. The scratches along her hand and arm are healing, unlike those poor souls we lost a few days ago. Their wounds took them to their graves.
“How do we get word to Garrett?” I hope she understands I’m not asking for me.
She shakes her head. “We don’t.”
Booker steps into the room, then moves to the footboard. “Good, you’re awake. Come first light, I’ll head out and find him. If he’s where I think he is, we should be back before dark.”
Maureen looks down at her quilt, her fingers tapping the fabric. “What day is it? How many more days do we have?”
Booker sighs and says, “Cletus will return tomorrow, ma’am.”
She shakes her head. “Then, no. We need you here. Garrett knows what tomorrow is. He’ll be back in time.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, knowing she’s right, but the reassurance would be nice to hear.
“I’m sure,” she says, and the confidence in her tone makes me feel better already.
“Ruby will bring you some soup shortly.” Booker turns to the door. “Come on, Bex. Let’s let Maureen get some rest.”
A man comes running into Maureen’s living room, shouting, “The stagecoach has returned!”
I move to the doorway, almost knocking over the pitcher. I carefully settle it before rushing out of Maureen’s home. My feet aren’t moving fast enough. All I want is to see Nina. Thank the stars, my sister has returned in one piece!
Both Booker and I rush outside. The sun hasn’t set yet, so they made it in plenty of time. Nina hops out of the carriage and rushes at me. We embrace so tightly I swear we almost topple to the ground.
“Dammit, where have you been?” I ask, not caring that part of her pale blonde braid got stuck in the corner of my mouth.
“Language,” she says with a chuckle. “I leave you alone for a week and you’re cursing like a rancher. Next thing you know you’re be spitting on the ground and gambling at the saloon!”
We share a good laugh before we break apart. She gives my hand a tight squeeze and says, “Oh, I have so much to tell you. And not all of it is good.”
I widen my eyes and nod. “Same. We were attacked—well, not really attacked, more like an unexpected stampede of wild insects the size of Hunter came through town, killing a few folks.”
“What?!” Nina says with a gasp. “Insects? Is Hunter okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine. So are Booker, Ruby, and Sheamus.”
“What about Maureen? And Garrett?”
“Maureen got hurt pretty badly, but she’ll live. The sheriff wasn’t here when it happened.”
She rubs a hand on my face and smiles. It’s as if she can already tell there’s something wrong between me and Garrett. “Come on, let’s help carry this stuff inside, and then we can talk more.”
After helping everyone unload the carriage, with a lot of familiar things Nina packed up and brought from our farm, we head inside the inn to have some supper.
Ruby set out a large ceramic soup bowl for everyone to serve themselves.
I know she’s still down in the infirmary, helping tend to the injured.
The ceramic soup bowl is another gorgeous item they have here with a fitted lid that has a small cutout for the ladle.
I take one bowl before lifting the lid and ladling out some vegetable soup.
“Where’s everyone?” Nina asks.
“Probably down visiting Maureen. She’s not able to get up yet after her surgery.”
“Surgery?” Nina asks with a surprised tone. “Do they have a hospital here?”
I shake my head and sit in my usual seat at the side of the table. “No, but they have an impressive infirmary with a large stock of medical supplies.”
Nina sits next to me. “Where do you think they get all that stuff from?”
I blow on a spoonful, the wafting steam vanishing. “They must make supply runs east, I assume. Now, tell me about what happened. What’s this good and bad news?”
Nina waves a hand in front of her mouth, obviously not waiting for her soup to cool.
“Oh, well,” she tries to start, but she’s still recovering from her hot soup.
“Ambrose Redding required my coming to town and signing some papers. I tried to tell him I wasn’t the owner of the property or the land, but he insisted I come into town. So I had to ride into town for that.”
“How annoyed were your traveling companions for having to stay the night on the farm?” I ask, thinking they’d want to get home as fast as possible.
A smile spreads, and she holds off taking another bite to explain, “Oh, they loved it out there. I swear, they all slept most of the morning, just so they could stay up late outside by the campfire. They were staring at the stars, drinking and eating by the fire, having a grand old time.”
“I guess they don’t get to go outside at night too often, huh?”
“No, they don’t.” Nina giggles. Then in a more serious tone, she says, “I don’t like that Ambrose Redding guy.”
“No one does,” I quickly agree. “But he’s got money, and we couldn’t get a loan from the bank, so he was the best option.”
“Levi should’ve talked to our father first before dealing with that slimy man. I reckon, he’s shadier than the evil things lurking out here in Graveyard Territory.”
I wave my spoon at her before taking another bite. “So, what did he want?”
“Are you wearing pants, Rebecca Rose Ellington?” Nina reaches under the table and pinches my leg.
“Ow! Yes! Don’t pinch me!” I laugh while swiping her hand away. “They’re actually quite comfortable, and much easier to fight in when I need to. Now, finish telling me about Redding.”
“Did someone say Redding, as in Ambrose Redding?” Booker asks, walking into the dining room. He grabs a bowl and serves himself some soup.
I recall the other day how Booker had asked me if I knew Mr. Redding. I turn in my seat and as Booker sits across from us, I ask, “How exactly do you know him?”
He snorts a chuckle. “Everyone knows that weasel. He’s no good, and you should stay clear of him and his dealings.” Without waiting for the soup to cool, he shovels a heaping spoonful into his mouth.
“Why’s that?” Nina asks before I can.
Booker swallows the hot soup and tells us, “That man is always out for blood and power. Remember, I told you how some men are worse than the aberrants out here?” I nod, and he continues, “Well, he’s bloody one of them. He’s in cahoots with Santana.”
“The vampire?” I ask.
He nods, looking impressed at my ability to retain some of the stuff I learned these past few days. “Santana isn’t just any vampire. He’s what you call a souleech, an aberrant that feeds on emotional energy.”
“Wait,” Nina cuts in, and asks, “Didn’t Cletus say that witch of his also feed on a person’s essence?”
“Viola, and yes. She’s also a souleech, but not a vampire.
The ability to drain a person’s life force is a rare trait that’s only possible in aberrants that are born aberrants and not changed.
So, if you get bit by a werewolf, you become a werewolf, but you’ll never be a souleech.
Witches, vampires, darkotas, entomonians, stonians, and any other aberrant born into this world have the chance of being born with a second power. ”
Nina sets her spoon down. “There’s so much to learn about this secret world you all live in.”
“You too, darlin’. You’re even more rare than those with the souleech power. I don’t know much about your kind, but I do know that a winds whisperer is said to be quite powerful.”
“I don’t know about that. I don’t feel powerful.” Nina leans back in her chair.
“Anyway, I would avoid crossing paths with Santana, but at the same time if you’re ever looking for a drifter to hire, a night of pleasure, or a place to gamble your soul away—then head to the Sundown Saloon.”
“Do you think that’s where Garrett is?” my mouth asks before my brain can stop the words from slipping free. “Sorry, it’s none of my business where he spends his time.”
Booker winks at me, and heat flushes my face. “No, ma’am. That’s not his scene. Like I said before, he’s probably holed up at my place with Ranger and Otis.”
“Your hound dogs?” I guess.
He nods. “They know and trust Garrett. Whatever squabble you two got into a few nights ago must’ve hit him hard. He’s come out to stay with me before, but I can’t recall a time when he’s been away from Gravers Junction for this long.”
“You think he’s hurt, or in danger?” Nina asks.
Booker takes another mouthful and shrugs. “It’s a game of survival out there. You ought to be ready for anything if you’re out there alone.”
“Well, good thing he has Otis and Ranger,” I say, trying to reassure myself he’s fine.
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
Booker narrows his eyes at the dining room doorway.
Slowly, all three of us get up and make our way out into the parlor.
From the windows, I can see the sun hasn’t set yet.
So who’s knocking on the front door of the inn?
He looks to us and nods, silently telling us to be ready for anything, before opening the door.
Standing out on the front porch is Viola.
“Can we help you, witch?” Booker asks with a snarl.
She looks past the alpha werewolf and me, the new dustslinger, and says to my sister, “We need to talk.”