The Gathering
Page 30

“Oh.” His gaze shuttered.
“No, I’m not asking for your truck because I want to get back together with him. I’m worried about him and his sister being out there with the fire threat. They should be in town.”
He relaxed. “Good idea.”
“Under normal circumstances, I’d run there, and try to make it back by the end of lunch period but—”
“Not when we might have a man-killing cat roaming around. Come on. I’ll drive you.”
He started toward the lot.
I jogged up beside him. “You don’t have to do that. Go eat your lunch.”
“I’ve got some energy bars in the glove box.”
I jostled him. “What, you don’t trust me to drive your baby? Go on. I can handle it.”
“It’s not that. She’s been acting up lately, remember? I don’t want you stranded and walking back through the forest.”
Getting a lift from Daniel was going to make it a whole lot tougher to ask Rafe about skin-walkers. But I’d have to work with it. The important thing was checking on him and Annie.
It took nearly as long to drive there as it did to walk. We had to travel out of town on the main road, then find the rutted lane Mr. Skylark had used for his truck. It was clear enough for Daniel’s pickup to make it through, but it wasn’t a trip he’d want to do daily.
When we got to the cabin, it was dark inside. I told myself they were just careful about using the generator—fuel costs money. Daniel parked twenty feet away and said he’d wait there for me, maybe get out and stretch his legs.
I knocked, then opened the door and my breath hitched. It wasn’t just empty, it was empty. The crates that stored their clothes and food now held only an item or two.
I knew Rafe might leave when I couldn’t provide answers, but I never thought he’d just … go. As upset and hurt as I’d been, I’d held onto the scrap of hope that he really did care about me, that he wasn’t just trying to make nice to secure my help. Wrong again. The moment he realized I didn’t have any information that would help his sister, he’d left.
I was backing out of the cabin when I noticed a piece of folded paper on the floor weighted down by a rock. I nudged the rock with my foot and saw my name.
When I picked up the note, something fell out, and dropped beside the rock. I ignored it and took the note to the window to read it.
Left this AM. We’ll come back when I have answers.
There was another line, so scratched out I couldn’t decipher a word. I stared at the note for a second, then remembered the fallen object. I squinted at the floor but saw only the pale rock. I patted around until I found something, then rose, lifting it to the light.
It was the rawhide band with the cat’s-eye stone, Rafe’s bracelet, the one his mother gave him.
I clutched it in my hand. My breath hitched again, heart pounding.
Don’t read anything into it, Maya. You know you can’t read anything into it.
I opened the note again. Just those two lines. Cool and emotionless. Left. Will return.
I held the page up to the window, trying to see what he’d crossed out.
Okay, now you’re just being pathetic. Get a grip, Maya. The guy is gone.
I looked down at the bracelet in my hand.
“No sign of them?” Daniel said from the doorway.
I jumped and stuffed the bracelet into my pocket.
“Sorry. I know I said I’d stay outside, but I didn’t hear you talking to anyone.” He stepped inside. “I don’t want to freak you out, Maya. I’m sure they’re just out in the woods, but there are signs of a cougar all over the place. I know your dad’s busy with this fire threat. We need to get him over here, though, just in case—”
“They’re fine.” I lifted the note. “They left.”
“Left?”
“Back to the States or whatever.”
He didn’t look convinced. “I still think we should call your dad. There are prints, scat, clawed trees. Even fur. A cougar has been here and been here a lot, and that’s—”
“Small tracks?” I said. “Like a young female?”
“I guess so …”
I need to tell you something.
I wanted to say that. God, I wanted to say it. Here was the perfect segue. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead I said, “Okay, we should go, then. We need to get back to school.”
“Actually, I thought maybe we’d head into Nanaimo,” he said as we walked out. “There’s something I need to look up. And, apparently, I can’t do it here.”
He reached into his pocket and handed me a piece of paper. “I found that in the Braun cottage. I was going to show it to you, but then with Sam turning up and the stuff about my mom … I decided it could wait. I wanted to find out what it meant before I brought it to you. I tried this morning, but my laptop wouldn’t let me search for it.”
“What?”
“The nanny software kicked in. No idea why.”
I unfolded the sheet to find four words written on it. The top one we’d already seen. Benandanti.
“That’s the word—” I began.
“From that book. So Mina didn’t just pick a random page for her note after all. But the word below it, isn’t that the one the old woman used? Navajo for skin-walker?”
It was. So Mina was here investigating me? Was that what this meant? So why send us to that book about the benandanti?
I need to tell you something, Daniel.
I clutched the note and took a deep breath as we walked out of the cabin. “There’s something I—”
As we stepped out, the smell hit me like a slap on the face, knocking every other thought out of my head.
Daniel stopped in his tracks. “Is that …?”
“Fire,” I said.
He swore and prodded me toward the truck.
I dug in my heels and shook my head. “It’s just someone burning trash. The forest fires wouldn’t have reached this far this fast. My dad would have called me.”
I took out my cell phone and opened it.
“No service?” Daniel said.
I looked over to see him staring down at his.
“In the truck,” he said. “Now.”
I was hurrying around it when a crashing in the undergrowth made me spin. A stag barreled into the clearing. Spotting us, it froze, and I didn’t need to see its rolling eyes or flaring nostrils—I could feel its fear, a stark terror that made the hair on my neck rise.
It thundered off, crashing through the trees in blind panic. Fire was coming.
THIRTY-FOUR
IYANKED OPEN THE truck door and jumped in. Daniel jammed the key into the ignition and cranked it. Nothing happened.
“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.”
He turned it again and again, twisting it back and forth, then letting go, slamming his palms against the steering wheel.
I opened my door. “We’ll walk. The fire can’t be that close—”
“No. Just hold on.” He took a deep breath, then tried again, calmer now.
My dad always said that when the wildlife started to flee, it was time to take cover. By that point, you can’t outrun it on foot.
On the second twist, the engine caught, faltered, then roared to life. Daniel nodded, slammed it into drive, hit the gas and …
The tires spun.
“No way. No goddamn way.”
He threw open the door. “Slide over. When I yell, hit the gas.”
He pushed. I accelerated. The tires spun, refusing to take hold. Ash settled on the hood. I hit the gas harder. Finally, the truck jolted from the rut and sped forward. I hit the brakes.
“No!” Daniel yelled. “Keep her rolling.”
I glanced in the mirrors to see him racing along the side of the truck. He grabbed the door and yanked it open. I turned my attention back to the road. Daniel swung in, then slammed the door shut and collapsed in the passenger seat, panting.
“Always wanted to do that, haven’t you?” I said.
He laughed and struggled to catch his breath. Ash frosted his hair and shoulders.
“Just keep going,” he said. “It’s rough, and if you slow down, she’ll get stuck again.”
Rough was right. I hadn’t noticed it as a passenger, but now I felt every jerk, every roll. Another deer raced past us. Then a fox, so panicked it almost ran under the wheels. The animals were heading toward town. That meant the fire was in the other direction. Good.
When we reached the road, I could see a wall of smoke over the distant treetops.
“I see it,” Daniel said, before I could speak. His voice was low, and calm now. “Do you want me to take over?”
I shook my head and hit the gas, driving as fast as I dared on the winding road.
The ash stopped falling. When I looked in the rearview mirror, though, I could still see the smoke.
“How can it be coming in so fast?” I said.
“You know the saying. Spreads like wildfire.”
“Sure, but this seems too fast.”
He shrugged. It didn’t matter. Just get to safety. As I drove, Daniel checked his cell phone.
“Still no service?” I said.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll be there in—”
A huge shape leaped from the bushes. I hit the brakes as Daniel shouted “Don’t swerve!” I knew better—out here you learned that lesson as soon as you got behind the wheel. Then I realized it was a massive Roosevelt elk, its antlers nearly as wide as the windshield.
“Duck!” I said.
I hit the brakes as hard as I could and steered to the right, away from the elk. The rule “don’t swerve” doesn’t apply with a creature that big. We ducked—another tactic we’d been taught, though elk herds rarely ventured this far east. When an elk hits a car, it’ll crush the roof—and you under it.
A thump as the truck hit the animal, but it was a glancing blow and the elk only stumbled, then—
Crash!
Something hit my door. Then a doe scrambled right over the hood.
“They’re running into the truck!” Daniel shouted. “Drive!”
I hit the gas. Another thud. I looked over to see the huge elk charging. Its antlers hit and the truck rocked, threatening to tip right over. The animal backed up. Its eyes rolled in rage and panic. It charged the door again. The glass smashed. Daniel grabbed me, but I was caught in my seat belt. He fumbled with it as I braced for the next blow.
Calm down, I thought. Please, please, please, calm down.
The elk hit the door but seemed to check itself at the last second. It snorted. Hot air blasted through the window. I could smell the beast, smell its panic. It backed away, head lowering, those huge antlers swinging through the window, one prong brushing my cheek as I ducked.
Just calm down. Please calm down.
“Got it!” Daniel said.
The seat belt flew loose and he grabbed me as the elk charged again.
“Hang on!” Daniel shouted.
I clutched the steering wheel, but at the last second, the elk swerved. Then it stood there, sides heaving, looking faintly confused, as if it had forgotten what it was doing.
Daniel threw open the passenger door, and we tumbled onto the road. The elk snorted again and nudged the truck. It rocked. I scrambled out of the way, tugging Daniel after me.
“Hey!” someone shouted.
I caught the distant pounding of footsteps.
“Hey! Yeah, you! Get out of here!”
I knew that voice. Knew it, but couldn’t believe I was hearing it.
I turned to see Rafe running toward the elk, waving his arms. The rest of the herd stood on the side of the road, milling about in confusion, waiting for their leader.
“Go on!” Rafe shouted. “Move it!”
The elk snorted. Then, with a dismissive flip of its tail, it bounded across the road and into the forest. The herd followed.
I tried to stand, but Daniel made me sit on the ground as he checked me out. He squeezed my shoulder and I winced.
“Just bruised,” I said. “I can walk.”
Rafe jogged over to us. “She was driving? Is she okay?”
“Yes, she is,” I said, getting to my feet. I looked behind him. “Where’s Annie?”
“She—” Rafe stopped and looked at Daniel.
“Took off?” I said. “Like she does sometimes?”
He nodded. “We set out this morning, but we didn’t get far before she …”
“Ran away,” I finished.
A glance at Daniel, then he went on. “Right. I sat down to wait. She comes back when she’s done, and there’s nothing else I can do until then. This time, though, she was gone longer than usual. I started getting worried, so I left our packs and headed down the path. That’s when I smelled the smoke. I’ve been looking for her. I heard the crashing, came out to the road, and saw you guys.”
Daniel anxiously eyed the smoky horizon as Rafe explained. He tried to start the truck, but it was too badly damaged.
“We have to go,” he said. “That fire’s coming fast.”
Rafe shook his head. “Go on. I need to find her. She’s probably just back at the cabin—”
“She’s not,” I said. “We just left there.”
He rocked on the balls of his feet and I could tell he’d barely heard me.
I grabbed his arm. “Rafe.”
“What?”
I lowered my voice as I pulled him away from Daniel. “She’s a cat, right? She thinks like a cat now. She’ll do what every other animal is doing—running away from the fire. We’ll cut through the forest and try to find her on our way back to town.”