The Gathering
Page 22

As he approached me, he smiled, and if he’d brushed his teeth in the last year, I’d be shocked. I could smell his windbreaker—that stink of new plastic. Smelled his breath, too, as soon as he opened his mouth.
“Hey there, Miss,” he said, stumbling over the Miss a little. “I’m looking for someone, and I was told you could help.”
One look at the guy, and I knew exactly who he was looking for. I glanced to the side, toward the forest, the path I knew Rafe would take. It was empty. Good.
“I will if I can,” I said, giving my best tourist-friendly smile. “Who is it?”
“Kid named Rafael Santiago. No, Martinez. Rafe Martinez. He’s about your age and I just talked to someone who said you’re his girlfriend.”
I managed a laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far, but sure, I know him. You’re a friend?”
“I am. From way back. Lost track of him when he came up to Canada. Then I was in Vancouver, visiting a buddy and he said, ‘Hey, you know who’s over on the island?’ Course, I couldn’t go home without saying hi to my old pal. He’s been tougher to find than I thought, though.”
He laughed. “Hell, this town was tougher to find than I thought. Wasn’t even on the map. Then I get here and find out he’s living with his sister in some cabin in the woods. Out there.” He waved north. “Seems there isn’t even a road to follow. I was hoping you could take me to him.”
“I would, but I’ve never been there myself. I’m waiting for my dad to pick me—” I took out my cell, as if it had been vibrating, and answered. “Dad. Where are you?”
I paused, then sighed. “Fine, I’ll walk home then.”
I hung up and slid off the monument. “Seems I’m not getting a lift and my mom needs me home right away. Why don’t you try Chief Carling’s office? They can give you directions to Rafe’s place.”
There was no way this guy was going to the police station, and the look on his face confirmed it.
“All right then,” he said. “I’ll keep asking. Thanks for your help.”
He couldn’t resist a sarcastic twist on the last word. I hoisted my backpack and headed out.
TWENTY-FIVE
RAFE HAD LIED. HE was in trouble. He should have warned me. Now I needed to warn him. Luckily, he was more than a few minutes late.
With the guy hanging around I couldn’t head straight for the path leading to Rafe’s place. Still, I needed to go in that direction, so I could watch for him. I circled out of the thug’s sight, then veered back toward the path, picking up my speed until I was safely in the forest.
When there was still no sign of Rafe, I started worrying that he’d taken another route. I wasn’t even completely sure that mine was the right one, because I rarely went out to the Skylark cabin. It was a twenty-minute walk from school, and in the opposite direction from the park.
It was thick forest here, the evergreens so close together they were as bare as telephone poles, trunks soaring into the air, finding sunlight and sprouting branches only near their tops. When the weather wasn’t so dry, the ground was boggy. It had to be the crappiest piece of land in the area, which is why Ed Skylark picked it.
Skylark had been an antisocial old hermit who’d lived here before the St. Clouds bought the land. Everyone else had happily taken the generous packages the St. Clouds offered. Ed Skylark had set up traps around his cabin and told the town that if any local kids stumbled over them, it wasn’t his fault—he was just trying to catch mink and martens. We didn’t know for sure if there actually were traps, but we’d grown up giving the cabin a wide berth.
No one had been surprised when heirs didn’t show up to claim his estate or when—five years later—the pair who did were very distant, very young relatives. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if Rafe and Annie were related to Ed Skylark at all or had been in one of the nearby towns, heard about the abandoned cabin, and declared themselves heirs. It wasn’t like anyone was going to challenge them for custody of the place.
I was thinking about that when a branch cracked beside me. I wheeled and peered into the forest. This deep in, the forest was as dim as twilight. Once my eyes adjusted, I could make out a pale white sneaker peeking from behind a tree.
Rafe had white sneakers.
So did the guy looking for him.
I took out my pepper spray. Then I backed up, hoping to get a look at a jacket or pants or anything that would tell me it was Rafe goofing around. But as I moved, so did the other guy, circling the tree to keep out of sight.
I fingered the pepper spray. If it was Rafe, then I could say he deserved it for sneaking up when he knew I’d be on high alert for cougars. Still, a blast of pepper wasn’t something to take lightly.
“If that’s you, get out here before I call my dad and tell him I’ve found Marv.”
No answer. I adjusted my grip on the can, fingers clammy now. I kept moving backward, not taking my eyes off that tree.
I thought about calling for help. But no one could make it here in time, and if I was wrong, I’d only get Rafe in trouble—maybe even alert the guy looking for him.
I gripped the pepper spray, took a deep breath, and started toward the tree.
“Okay,” I said, raising my voice. “Hide-and-seek is not a game to play in the forest. If a hunter’s around—”
The guy lunged at me, and I sprayed him. He howled in pain, yelling, “You bitch!”
I ran. He was able to follow, meaning he’d only caught a spritz of pepper. I picked up speed. This was a race I knew I could win. My strength and my territory. I’d easily outpace—
“Stop!” he yelled.
When I kept going, a bullet whizzed past.
“I said stop, bitch, or next time I won’t miss.”
I dove for the ground. He fired. The bullet hit a tree, splinters raining into my hair. I heard him curse as he tromped through the undergrowth. I crept along the ground, and when he came around a nearby tree, I could see him, his eyes streaming tears. He peered into the forest and swore again.
I tugged out my cell phone and opened it.
No service.
Please no. Not now.
I held the phone at every angle and at arm’s length. Nothing.
The guy kept stumbling around, clearly having no idea how to move in a forest. I crept on my belly toward him, ready to leap up and blast him again. Then I stopped.
He had a gun. This was the time to run, not fight.
I rose onto all fours and crawled away from him, sweeping aside dried sticks and dead leaves and anything else that might crackle. As I moved, I kept looking up into the trees. I couldn’t help it. My gut instinct didn’t just say to run, it said where to run. Up.
That was nuts. In the time it took me to find a suitable tree, he could shoot me. I fought the impulse and concentrated on moving slowly and quietly.
“Do you really think you can get away?” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the forest. “I’ve got a gun, you stupid bitch. It’s a half mile back to town. You’ll never make it.”
I could do a half mile. Inch by inch if I had to. I continued forward without pause … until I reached a dry creek bed full of dead vegetation. No way I was getting through that without making a racket.
“I’m not after you, kid,” the guy yelled. “Just tell me what I want to know and you’re free to go.”
I started along the creek bank. When it threatened to take me too close to the guy thundering through the woods, I stopped and looked around. A fallen tree crossed the stream-bed. Staying in the long grass, I crawled to it, got my balance and—
A hand clamped over my mouth, yanking me back as I started to tumble. My fists flew at my attacker, but he held me tight, pulling me against him, one hand over my mouth, the other around my waist.
“Shhh. It’s me.”
I twisted to see Rafe. He motioned for silence, then let me go.
“I heard a shot,” he whispered, checking me over. “What’s going on? Who is that?”
“You forgot to mention that the guys you robbed tracked you down.”
“What?” He blinked in genuine surprise.
“Is your real name Rafe Santiago?”
“No, but it’s one of the aliases my mom used.”
Aliases?
The guy yelled again. “That’s a limited-time offer, kid. The longer you take to come out, the more you’re going to piss me off. You have two minutes. Starting now.”
Rafe took a deep breath. “I’ll handle this. Get back to town.”
“Like hell. Where’s Annie?”
“She took off an hour ago. That’s why I’m late.”
For a guy who worried about his sister so much, he didn’t seem to keep a very close eye on her. Soon, this guy was going to tire of looking for me and continue down the path, hoping it led him to their cabin. If Annie was there, she wouldn’t know enough to run.
“Distract him,” I whispered. “I’ll get help.”
I started to crawl away.
Rafe grabbed my leg. “If the town finds out about Annie, we’ll have to leave.” He met my gaze. “I don’t want to leave.”
“Do you want to die?”
He didn’t answer, just put his hand against the back of my head and pulled me into a kiss that made my head swim. Rough and deep and desperate.
He wouldn’t look at me after that, just turned his gaze forward and said, “Get help. I’ll distract him.”
I took off crawling. I’d gone about twenty feet when the guy yelled, “Fine. You don’t want to help me? I’ll find Rafe myself, and when I’m done with him, I’m coming back for you. No one disrespects me like that, especially not a little …”
He let loose a string of racial epithets, which I’m sure he thought would wound me to the core or at least piss me off enough to give myself away. I kept crawling.
“You looking for me?” Rafe yelled.
The woods went silent. I held still.
“Rafael?” the guy called after a moment.
“That’s me. And who are you?”
I rose, staying hunched over, and moved as fast as I dared toward the path.
“You don’t know me,” the guy called, “but I’ve been paid to bring you back to the Jacksons.”
Rafe laughed. “Bring me back? Right.”
“You think I’m going to kill you? Oh, no. The Jacksons want to do that themselves, sending a message to every other punk who tries to rip them off. The only question, Rafael, is whether you come along willingly or you make me go after your girlfriend and your sister first. The Jacksons don’t want them.” He let out a nasty laugh. “But I think I could find some use for them.”
“And if I turn myself in, you’ll leave them alone?” Rafe’s voice had moved farther in the opposite direction, drawing the guy away from me.
“That’s the plan.”
The guy didn’t seem to be following Rafe, but that was fine. He’d made contact with his target. I was safe. I reached the path and—
A bullet flew over my head. I ran.
“Maya!” Rafe shouted.
A sharp pain in my hip made me stumble and I went down. My hip felt like it was on fire. There was a scorched track through my jeans, the skin below it grazed and burned.
I looked up to see the guy bearing down on me, gun pointed.
“Stay down, bitch, or—”
I rolled into the undergrowth. He fired. Missed. Fired again. In the distance, I could hear Rafe shouting as his footsteps pounded the path.
Another shot. Then a click and a grunt. I peered through the brush to see him trying to unjam the gun. I steadied my breathing, then scrambled along the ground until I was a few feet from him.
I leaped up and blasted him full in the face with pepper spray. He screamed and tried to fire, but the gun was still jammed, and I was already diving away.
He fell back, fumbling with the gun as tears streamed down his face. I ran toward him and grabbed the gun. I didn’t get a good enough grip on it, and when he let go, it sailed into the forest.
The guy grabbed me by the arm. I wrenched free and tore off. He tried to follow, stumbling blindly after me. Rafe was no longer shouting, just running full out in our direction. His face was taut with anger, and when I heard the growl, I thought it came from him.
Then a tawny blur charged through the trees, snarling and snapping. It was the cougar from the night of my party, the female. She planted herself between me and the guy, who’d stopped swiping at his eyes and now stared at her like he was sure he was seeing wrong.
The cat crouched. Rafe skidded to a halt.
“No!” he said sharply.
The cat kept snarling, crouched and ready to spring.
“We’re okay,” Rafe said, his voice firm. “I’m okay. Maya’s okay.”
I looked at him. His gaze was fixed on the cat. He was talking to the cat.
I took a slow step, sidling toward the gun. I kept my gaze on the cougar, and when I moved, I could see her left flank and the mark there—dark fur in the shape of a paw print.
I swallowed. I knew what I was looking at. I knew what it meant. But I couldn’t let the thought form. Not now.
Rafe was still talking, sharper now, telling the cat we were okay. She crouched, hindquarters shifting, the tip of her tail twitching.
“No,” Rafe said, jumping forward. “Don’t—”
The cat leaped just as the guy wheeled to run. He managed to dodge her, stumbling slightly as she brushed him. Rafe took off after the cat, yelling, but she tore after the guy. I followed.
The guy ran full out, knowing he was running for his life, but the cat was faster. As the gap between them narrowed, the cat hunkered down for a flying leap. Rafe shouted something I couldn’t quite make out. Or maybe I could—I just wasn’t ready to believe what I was hearing.