CHAPTER FIVE
Valdez
My family didn't argue. They just filed out one by one, like sheep. No, not sheep. Sheep were one thing my family was not. They were good little ducklings, oblivious to the danger in the water.
The three of them had thrown everything I had worked hard to achieve to the wind. Maybe it was time to let them be on their own. I’d held on too long to try to keep them safe. I wasn’t sure which one of them would be the first to raze a building or blow something up, as scary as that thought was.
I was numb. The mantel of forced responsibility I wore was crumbling. I’d never known anything else. I didn’t want it, but it had been mine. It was what made me happy; kept me some what level. I didn't know how to deal without it.
Had Pops been around, things would have been different. It was always a fight not to dwell on what could have been versus what had come to be. I had a serious problem letting go of the future that was promised before he disappeared.
I stabbed my hunting knife into the top of my father’s desk. The light reflected off the blade as it trembled. Wavy patterns of light rippled like water across the old wood.
The caribou antler hilt had a satin sheen from twenty years of use. The knife had been a gift from my father for my sixteenth birthday. My entire adult life had been based around that blade—Momma dying, being stupid and drinking at the Hayes house, Marie pregnant, Willow, Pop’s disappearance, Mr. Roman, my dogs. Even the gold mine. Ordeneige had been given to me as payment for riding a farmer of werewolves that were eating his cattle.
I often wondered if Pops had been psychic when he carved the caribou antlers for our knives. He’d chosen a salmon, a coyote, and a seal. My life had constantly swim against the current.
Picking up the estimates and the remodeling plans for the Hayes House, I tried to distract myself. By page three of the renovations, my anger burned too bright. I needed to dull it before I did something stupid like confront my siblings.
I dug Kenai’s whiskey from his hiding places. He’d stashed a partial bottle in the safe, and another small bottle in the desk drawer. A quarter of the bottle was gone before I calmed down enough to trace the carved star on the desk.
I was tired of the responsibilities. Tired of holding up promises when they didn’t mean a damn thing to the person on the other end.
But family still mattered.
And I had to start somewhere.
I had a call to make.
The third time I attempted to dialed the number, I actually managed to hit send. There was no answer. I should have known better than to expect one.
“Our son wants to hunt. I’m tired of being the bad guy. I can't stop him anymore. You don't like it, I’ll buy you a ticket to Cordova. Tell him yourself you don't want him to hunt. I'm done.”
I turned off my cell and found myself reaching for the photo my sister had left on my desk. I needed to know what my nephew looked like.
Nephew. There was a new generation of our family. Maybe we would make it after all.
Bright blue eyes, freckles like my sister, and crazy, wavy black hair like his father. I caught myself smiling as I ran a thumb over the picture of the little boy with birthday cake on his face. The photo had been cropped, yet I could still see a swish of Willow’s ruby red hair as she walked out of frame.
My relationship with Willow was something I never should have pursued, but I couldn't tear myself away from it. It was what Willow and I had both wanted. Something just for us. An outlet from our lives. But when she had asked me about having children together, I realized what I was doing. I was sleeping with the enemy. It went against everything I had been raised to believe. And I’d refused to pursue another relationship since. I didn’t deserve it, and having one meant possibly having to turn my back on my family. I couldn’t do that.
I wanted to be happy for my sister. I wanted to be happy for Rhen. There was some part buried way deep inside of me that was jealous. But hearing that Willow had taken the boy infuriated me. That child was my blood. He belonged with us.
I tucked the photo into a framed family photo and grabbed the open bottle. It had been years since I’d drank. I couldn’t remember if the last time I was drunk had been with Willow, or if it had been before my best friend left Cordova. How long would it take me to down what remained in the bottles? The Gold Frost Holdings office had once been our childhood home, I’d be sleeping in the back room on an air mattress tonight for sure.
The steel blade of my knife beckoned. My head swam from the warmth of the whiskey. I wouldn’t be like my father. The bite of the blade wasn’t worth the momentary relief it would give. Nothing would change. I yanked the knife from the top of the desk, shoving it and my cell phone into the drawer before returning back to the bottle. Three more swigs of my brother’s home brewed corn whiskey and I reached for my father’s journal. His words were a familiar pain, something tangible to hold on to. I fished the worn leather book from my bag and sat down at the desk to read his scrawled words.
August 3 - My first born son is going to be ten in three days. Tomorrow, I have to tell him I lost his uncle he was so close to in a nest of vamps. All because Ray was drunk. I tried. I did. But it was too late. They'd bitten him and given him their blood while they held me back and made me watch. Fuck. His blood is still under my nails. It's on my knife. I'm pissed at Ray. I warned him so many times that his drinking put us both in danger. I barely got out with the few bites he gave me. Sky stitched me up, but I wouldn't tell her what happened. What the hell am I going to tell V? Is it wrong I'm sadder that my son lost an uncle than for myself losing a brother? Everything is so hollow and icy inside me right now. I can't even fathom it. Sky handed me a pregnancy test. She said she was going to wait to tell me, but said from the expression on my face, she couldn't wait. Knew I needed something to remind me to keep on living.
I swallowed hard. That was not the story my father had told me the next day. He'd only told me that Uncle Ray had died in a surprise vampire attack at his cabin, and that he'd been drinking and couldn't defend himself. Not that he'd been forced to kill his older brother.
And Koda. I couldn't control my laughter. Pops found out that Mom was expecting another baby the day he'd killed his brother. Our family was so hated by Fate. And, just like with Kenai, they told me for my birthday I was getting another sibling. I remembered asking if I could stop having birthdays so I could stop having siblings being announced on my birthday.
The whiskey burned as I took another swig. I flipped through the journal, looking for something more painful to fuel the drinking. I wanted something that was actually the way I remembered it so I could get lost in it. It didn't take long. I knew the date by heart. It was almost twenty years ago to the day. I was sixteen then, and that day still gave me nightmares when I was exhausted.
September 27 - Bear’s safe. Thank the ancestors for however that happened. V’s a mess. There is no other word for it. K doesn't even know yet. He's away with the Selkie boy. I don't even know how to tell him. I still can't believe that cold thing lying there on the table is—was her. Still can't process the fact that one of my children had to see her like that; watch their mother take her last breath. They are calling it an accident. I don’t care. My heart is broken. Sky’s gone, and she's not coming back. I don't know how to go on in this darkness without the light.
Grandma was fond of saying things changed in a day. That the moon brought with it the new day, and we couldn't stop it even if we could reach out and touch it. But nothing was bright about the day my mother died. Koda was barely six, Kenai ten. I knew they didn't remember it like I did. I was grateful for that. That first day was only the beginning of hell.
September 28- It still doesn't feel real. Bear keeps asking when she's coming home. K will be home tomorrow, I'll tell him then. Werewolves are in the woods outside of town taking cattle. Simon says he needs me as backup for the hunt, and it will give me a moment away. I don't trust myself going out on this hunt tomorrow. I'm afraid I will see Death and be asked to be introduced so I can see her again.
September 29 - The werewolf caught me by surprise. Well, if Simon asks, it caught me by surprise. It had me pinned to the ground, my gun gone. I refused to reach for my knife as it snapped in my face. I could smell its breath. It licked my neck, and I begged it to tear my throat out. I've never begged an Other to kill me in my life. Simon slashed its throat, washing me in hot blood. Storm's coming, and I can't see Sky.
September 30 - Had Simon take the kids. I was still feeling the aggression and anger coursing through me from being bathed in the werewolf blood. I wanted to kill or fuck. I didn't care which, but the easiest when your alone is to kill. My knife wasn't sharp anymore after the werewolves. I'd barely made it through my skin till V came back and found me a bloody mess on the living room floor. He cleaned me up, stitched me up, not wanting to risk missing the funeral for a psych hold. I made him promise he'd take care of his siblings. Promise me that, no matter what, he'd look after them because I couldn't.
Those were promises that I never should have been asked to make. All I'd ever tried to do was take care of my family. Another long swig of whiskey only made the pain burn brighter.
There was one last entry I forced myself to read before my eyes completely failed me.
October 1 - The whole family knew at the funeral why my arms were bandaged. They questioned the bandage on my neck. I heard her family whisper I was a drunken bastard like my brother, and I had caused the accident that killed my wife. They whispered it should have been me and not her. That they didn't know why they were even there to see my heathen children if their mother was dead. I walked out, letting V deal with her mother, Bear, and K. I should have stayed, but all I wanted was my gun. I wasn't sure I was pissed or grateful V had hidden it from me sometime in my sleep, along with any other weapon he could get his hands on. I'm sure Simon helped him.
I pitched the journal across the room with a rage filled primal yell. The fury from that day came rushing back over me. I'd shut out the hell of the funeral and dealing with my mother's side of the family. They said we weren't good enough; nothing more than thieving con artists that had caused my mother's death on purpose. I'd given Koda to Uncle Simon, then sent Kenai away with the Ravenwhites before taking the brunt of the verbal abuse from them. When they were finished, I tore in to each and every one of the pretentious assholes before asking the funeral director to escort them all away so I could sit with my mother in silence.
I put the bottle to my lips and drank until my lungs screamed for air, then forced myself to take another swallow to finish the bottle before slamming it down on the desktop. Doubled over the desk, panting desperately for breath the warmth of the whiskey hit my bloodstream and the room spun. I pressed the palm of my hand in to my eye sockets to try to stop the burning tears. I saw double. I reached for the second bottle of whiskey, throwing the cap after the journal. I couldn't pass out fast enough.