Chapter 2 #2
Things were fine the first week after signing the deed.
But once we moved into the house and hired a few employees, accidents started happening.
The first ranch hand (and I) got burned on the eye of an unlit stove.
The second impaled his leg on a fence post. The last one’s hand got nailed with a nail gun that wasn’t plugged in.
I’ve been able to narrow down a pattern. And I’ve done some research on you and what you can do. How you free places of things unseen. So, I’m writing to you in the hope you’ll come out to the ranch to see just how special this place could be. And how important my sister is to me.
I can’t let Octavia give up on the place because I know it’ll mean giving up on everything else.
I can’t have her stop dreaming now that she’s finally getting started.
He’d included photos of the ranch, most of which looked like old newspaper clippings.
One was new, a shot of him and Octavia on their front porch.
She stood behind his wheelchair, bending down with her arms around his neck.
Her smile was responsible for all the light in the photo.
I stared at it for longer than necessary, comparing the woman on the screen to the harder version of her today.
“Pop quiz, Jonah.” I closed the email and shoved Octavia’s sticky note into my back pocket.
The tips of his ears turned red. He cleared his throat, readying for my question.
“What did the Guild teach you about job hierarchy?”
His forehead wrinkled. “Uh…”
“It’s not a trick question. Promise.” I smiled, resting my chin in my hand as I watched him repeat the question under his breath. He didn’t take his eyes off the road, his grip as ironclad as his hold on my words. “We’re going to have to work on your confidence, mentee.”
Jonah’s eyebrow quirked up. “I’m a mentee? Your mentee?”
“Do you have any objections to the matter?” I teased.
“You told me you wanted to be Rae when you grew up,” December said, trying to encourage him to say something.
I didn’t know it was possible for someone as brown as him to turn such a deep shade of red.
“I didn’t realize this was more than a gap year gig for you.
” He’d been so earnest about researching in his interview.
Jonah’s family were relatively new hunters in the Guild.
He didn’t start his studies until he was sixteen, but still, he’d been at the top of his class.
Instead of signing on as an Apprentice Hunter, he’d deferred the program and emailed me about a position.
A position I’d made entirely for him because he knew what it was like to want something outside the Guild.
When I was his age, it was all I dreamed about.
“I would like to investigate…independently.” He nodded shyly. “I know it’s difficult and inconsistent, finance-wise, but I think, like you, it’s…my calling.”
“Look at you, Rae.” Nico clicked open his camera, fishing out the film. “Inspiring the next generation. Making dreams come true.”
The teasing in his voice warred with pride. Nico looked up to me—though it took Herculean effort to get him to admit it out loud.
“She’d be an even better influence if she stuck to plans and stopped trying to change the order in which we take jobs,” December said under her breath.
I sighed. “Sometimes plans change.”
“Month-long plans. Big plans? Because I have a huge mansion gig.” December swayed back and forth as she spoke, trying to make it sound tempting. “I’m talking about a five-figure payout.”
Nico’s hands froze. He whistled. “Are you serious?”
When she nodded, Nico looked at me, hazel eyes pleading.
“Since when do we take gigs based on payout?” I tried to hide my annoyance with a low laugh. “We’re doing this to help people who really need it.”
The pull to Elmwood wasn’t inescapable, but it was consistent. Between Wilson’s numerous emails and Octavia’s conflict of opinion, there was something interesting there.
“Who says people who can pay five figures don’t need it?” December asked.
“Raise your hand if you want to do another creepy mansion for some millionaire who finally aired out their summer home,” I ordered.
Nico and December’s hands shot up. My nose wrinkled, but I kept going with the bit. “And raise your hand if you want to help a Black family who own their own ranch fulfill their dreams.”
My hand went up, and so did Jonah’s (albeit hesitantly, but I’d blame that on his safe driving).
“Rae can’t fire you for disagreeing with her,” December told Jonah. “So you can stop being shy.”
“I’m not being…shy.” Jonah blew out a breath I think was supposed to be a laugh. “The ranch gig sounds like fun. And…I want to be helpful. The woman at the convention looked like she really needed someone.”
“Don’t we all?” December argued.
“We’ll let the coin toss decide,” I said.
December groaned, and Nico chuckled, understanding his impending fate. I leaned back into my seat, looking forward with a smile.
“A coin toss?” Jonah glanced at them in the rearview.
“She’s infinitely lucky,” December grumbled.
“Never missed one in her life,” Nico added. “It’s almost as impressive as it is scary.”
“We’ll find a stranger and ask for one.” I pointed at an exit sign. The diner on the sign was one that the convention had given us a complimentary meal ticket for. “Once we get some food in us, we’ll let fate decide.”
“I’m convinced Fate’s in love with you,” December said.
“I think I could pull her,” I agreed.
The stickier the floors, the better the food, was what my parents used to say whenever we stopped at roadside diners.
Most of my childhood took shape on the road, so every belief formed in those years stuck to me like plaster.
I couldn’t exactly down the greasy burgers like I did back then.
But I ordered salads instead, indulged in a couple of fries or bites of dessert, and basked in the ambiance.
All diners were my safe place, home to late-night research and an opportunity to muse about jobs that kept me up at night.
“I talked to your sisters while you were on stage,” December said as we settled into the semi-clean booth.
Nico and Jonah were deep in conversation across from us.
They debated the reliability of translations of ward creation (Nico held our parents’ old school way of thinking.
He didn’t dare risk an English translation, preferring to learn the pronunciation without fully understanding everything.
While Jonah thought it could be more efficient to say the words in one’s native tongue, trusting the translator because there was a belief that the ward could be stronger when the speaker understood.
I resisted playing devil’s advocate for both sides).
“Are they still doing that job at the water park?” I asked.
My older sisters, Dawn, Eve, and Opal, were loyal Guild members.
And that meant they got all their jobs assigned with no control over where they went and how long they’d be there.
Some part of me, thousands of layers deep, missed being on their team.
But the idea of being tied to the Guild provided enough frustration to burn through the regret.
And I’d spent too much energy arguing with them about changing my status to freelancer just to backtrack.
Guild freelancers weren’t beholden to the strict rules of monitoring. They still included us in their database as active members in the rare chance they needed to call in for backup on particularly demanding jobs.
“They’re in upstate New York now,” December said. “There’s talk about them getting higher clearance.”
There was a clawing in my chest. I took a deep breath, fending off the thoughts of maybe I should have stayed.
Maybe I could have learned to be happy on their team.
Because nothing was ever perfect. The grass surely wasn’t greener on my side of the fence.
Higher clearance meant access to research the Guild kept under lock and key, details on rare entities and cases that weren’t solved by a hunter but by fate itself.
Maybe that was where true change began. And here I was signing photos of myself in pleather jumpsuits.
“Good for them,” was all I managed. I rubbed my fingers on my diamond-shaped pendant.
December offered a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure it’s got its pros along with its cons. All jobs do. And remember, the Guild was raking up on that cons list.”
“Yeah, of course,” I said, dismissive as my cheeks burned from her detecting my insecurity.
A server came to our table, took our orders, and offered us drinks. Nico helped pull me away from thoughts of career trajectory with his question: “Since you’re fulfilling dreams, RJ”—he draped his arm over the back of their bench—“you should do me next?”
“Why can’t I be next?” December asked.
“Because I have seniority.”
“I have a blood relation,” December made an and what now? face.
“I’m surprised you have a dream,” Nico readjusted, resting his elbows on the table to close the gap between December and him. “I assumed you’d scared away all hope and found your satisfaction living off youthful discontent and rage at the machine.”
“One can still dream amidst societal collapse.” I ripped open a pack of salt and dumped it onto the vinyl table. “It’s healthier than not.”
“And I’m nothing if not the picture of health.” December batted her eyes at Nico.
“Don’t push it,” I warned.
Nico snorted. December's foot knocked against mine on the way to serve a blow to Nico’s shin. Jonah remained quiet, watching me create a small circle of salt with my fingertips. I dropped my necklace in the middle.
“How are your first couple of weeks treating you?” I asked him. “It’s inspiring being in my presence, isn’t it?”
“You can’t say that,” Nico protested with a laugh.
“Why not?” I shrugged. “I’m a friendly boss.”
“It’s got to violate some employee code of conduct.” Nico looked at December for backup.
“Oh, now you want my strict opinion and immaculate reasoning skills?” she asked.