Chapter 14
Marko paced Monroe StoneCrow’s office as he stared at where King Mulholland sat behind the Dominant's desk speaking into the phone. He was jotting something down, and Marko prayed it was Intel he could use.
“Otter Creek Road and turn at Raynesford. Left side of the road six miles in. Got it. Thanks, Grace.”
Slamming to a halt as soon as King hung up the phone, Marko rushed the desk and bent over the scrap of paper as King continued to scribble on it.
“Here ya go. Grace says this is Thea’s parents’ place. It’s a cattle ranch. The Blackbird wolf pack keep a cabin near there.” He thumped his knuckles on the paper. “This ranch is right at the mouth of Limestone Canyon road and the Blackbird cabin is in Limestone Canyon, so if you have any problems and can’t get back here, hole up there, and I’ll send a team for you.”
Marko’s eyes narrowed on the slip of paper before slowly lifting to King’s. “Problems? Should I expect problems?
Shoving back from the desk, King skirted it before dropping onto the smooth, dark wood surface and folding his arms across his thick chest. “Jen says she didn’t scan for a tracker.”
“Tracker?”
King shrugged. “She was too busy dealing with the effects of the injection to consider anything else, but now that she’s had a minute, she’s wondering if there wasn’t more in that dart than just drugs.”
Marko’s whole body tensed. “They could be on her right now?”
King’s lips thinned into a grim line as he nodded solemnly.
“We shouldn’t risk it. Assign me a team.”
“Can’t do it,” King replied. “We’ve still got missing, and our best are out searching. The rest of the teams are split between protecting our women and children who relocated to Apex and helping rebuild here. I can’t afford anyone right now, especially since we don’t know if Thea is in any actual danger or not.” He jerked his chin toward Marko. “You’re the most I can offer her at this time. You’ll have to make do.”
“And if she’s been taken?”
King looked down and his jaw ticked before firm eyes met Marko’s. “We’re dealing with what we know right now. Thea’s missing, and until I learn otherwise, I’m going to assume she’s gone to her parents’ place.” Uncrossing his arms, he rested his balled up hands on his thighs. “I can see if Tyce has a team available. That’s the best I can do.” He stood abruptly and gave Marko his back as he turned back to the desk. “I’ve got a shit ton to do while Monroe’s looking after Eden.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You got more questions?”
“Yeah,” Marko snapped angrily, pissed that Thea’s life meant so little to the Skin Walkers she worked so closely with. “Why the fuck am I still here?” He didn’t wait for a response.
***
Thea used one leg to push herself back as her head rested on the rough rope of the swing her father had hung from the large cottonwood in their backyard. Growing up, she’d spent countless hours swaying back and forth as she watched her parents through the small window above the kitchen sink. It had always been the same. Dad would come in from a hard day’s work and wrap his arms around mom while nuzzling her neck. Ma’s stern look of concentration as she peeled potatoes, washed veggies, or cleaned dishes, always morphed into a beaming smile. It was a smile that never failed to warm Thea from the inside out. Her dad would always peel her barely protesting mother from the sink for a spin around the kitchen. Dad was always dancing with mom, even when there was no music, which was usually the case.
Once, when she was in her teens, Thea had asked dad why he was always dancing with Ma. He’d winked with a smile and explained, “Cuz dancing is the best excuse I can think of to hold my girl.”
Now, behind her, the warm glow of light poured out of the windows of the old farmhouse that held her most cherished memories. Turning to glance over her shoulder, she grinned at the sight of her mother standing at the sink concentrating on the task of rinsing green beans for dinner. She’d offered to help, but her mom had chased her off, telling her to “relax before it’s eatin’ time”.
She watched her mom a while longer, hoping dad would come in and twirl her around the kitchen. All growing up, his words had stuck with her and watching her parents dance had become one of her favorite things. She’d sworn to herself that when she found a man, he’d dance with her like dad did with ma. But, her ex never had. Even when there was music playing, and she’d begged him, he’d roll his eyes and get angry walking out of the kitchen with a terse, “I don’t dance.” God, how she loathed herself now for ignoring all the red flags.
Turning back around, she lifted her legs in front of her and pumped a few times to gain some momentum before she tucked her feet up close under the swing and drifted to and fro. As a child, this swing had always been her favorite place to think, and now swaying gently back and forth, she realized it still was.
Her thoughts were on Marko.
Marko.
Just thinking about him sent a bout of butterflies punching around her belly. It was so odd. In the space of a mere few days, she’d gone from being infatuated with the man to having slept with him at least a dozen times. The thought made her cheeks burn with both remembered pleasure and shame. They’d shared no connection. There’d been no dates, no little things in common, no real magic. No, they’d been thrust together as casualties of some stupid war that she really didn’t know anything about. Sure, she knew about Skin Walkers and their plight to simply exist. What she didn’t get was why anyone would be opposed to that. These Megalya were so determined to capture or hurt Skin Walkers that they didn’t care who stood in their path.
She shook her head as she remembered the demolished wing of StoneCrow Estates where the school was housed. Had the attack happened a mere hour later that part of the building would have been filled with children. The thought blasted chills up her spine. She stopped herself though from torturing herself with thoughts of anything bad happening to her students.
Over the years, she’d become a pro at not thinking about certain things to prevent herself from becoming unhinged. Those first few months after her divorce were the worst. She thought about every angle of her marriage and where she’d gone wrong. She dissected each conversation, each interaction, attempting to decipher where she could have done more. She’d tortured herself like that for a really long time, to the point of panic attacks and anxiety because, for her, not knowing what she’d done so wrong to cost her the happy life she’d thought she had was worse than anything. Now, years later, she’d trained herself to simply halt certain thoughts in their tracks. Just like flipping a switch, she could turn it off…well, mostly. Sometimes, something would creep through her defenses and then before she had the chance to throw up her wall, it was too late.
Her mother often told her that worry was robbing her of today’s happiness. Hell, a lot of people told her a lot of inspirational things all the time because they knew about her situation. But, they only knew. No one had lived through her heartache for her. No one had endured her agony. No one knew what it was like for her trying to retrain her brain to believe that she was worthy and not to blame for her fucktard ex’s dickhole choice to cheat on her and smash everything they’d had to smithereens. Sometimes she just wanted to tell people to shut the hell up, but she knew they only meant well. Honestly, she just wished everyone would leave her the hell alone and let her sort it out herself and stop always giving her those pathetically sympathetic stares.
Pumping her legs harder, she swung higher and straightened her legs out in front of her to stare at her boot covered feet.
Upstairs in the house, her old room was still untouched. Even the dressers and closet still held clothes that she fit, which was a relief. After her soup at lunch, she’d taken a nap, and when she woke, she’d changed into jeans and a sweater with thermal gear underneath. Wool socks covered feet that were tucked into her favorite pair of hunting boots, and she was bundled up in a camo coat and matching gloves. As she swung, air puffed out in front of her face and she smiled as it lingered and the swing carried her back through the arctic puff which chilled her cheeks and froze her nostrils almost shut.
Swinging higher, she loved how the chill wind blasted her cheeks and blew her hair back before brushing it forward on the downswing, hiding her face. For the first in a long time, she actually felt alive.
Her eyes skittered across her parents’ land, and she felt whole. This place always made everything right. When she got high enough, she looked left. Her eyes caught on the hollowed out remains of a mighty elm that had been felled by a lightning strike when she was just six. Two summers later she’d found a litter of kittens in the hollow and had carried them all back to the barn one by one. When her dad found out, she thought he’d be pissed, but he let her keep them as long as she took care of them. She’d declared they were all girls and named them April, May, June, and Ju-ly.
Looking right, her eyes caught sight of the stand of cottonwoods that blocked the creek from view. She’d learned how to swim at that creek, and had kissed her first boy there. Sonny was the boy of a neighboring farmer, and they’d spent a half dozen summers together before Sonny had moved to the reservation with his mom, shattering Thea’s heart into a million pieces.
Breathing deep, Thea exhaled just as slowly and jerked once as a sudden sharp pain seized her abdomen. It was gone just as quickly as it came and she shook it off as she stared at the landscape. This land was beautiful and strong. It grew strong cattle, and they farmed a portion of their field into winter wheat, which had to be strong to endure Montana winters.
I’m strong, she told herself realizing that she was a product of this land just like the cattle and the wheat. Even more, she was a product of Ethel and Dick Kinsey, and her parents had endured more and fought harder for this place and all that they’d raised here than they had for anything else. She was part of that. She’d been raised with just as much tenderness, affection, and firmness as her parents gifted on everything else here that made this place what it was.
A few more passes and she’d cycled through her shame at running and hiding to sheer determination to face Marko and whatever else was thrown at her. She admitted to herself now that she’d taken the coward’s way out by slinking off the estate without checking in with anyone. It was partially due to her hurt at waking alone, but the bigger part was her embarrassment over the whole situation. Either way, how she’d acted had been weak, and she wasn’t.
When she got near the ground, she used the toe of her boot to slow the swing, and it took a couple passes before she finally slowed enough to get off. When she stood, that strange feeling was still there, and she decided to head back to the house for a pre-dinner drink. She’d share dinner with her folks and then head back home for a good night’s rest before showing up at StoneCrow tomorrow to lend a hand however she could, and to face Marko.
One hand fisting the rope of the swing, she turned with a smile on her face and ran smack into a solid chest that sent her stumbling backward. For a second she thought it was her father, but as she caught herself and glanced up…and up, she realized it wasn’t her dad or anyone that she knew.