Chapter Fifteen: Near Death

Nathaniel

 

 

“You don’t have to prove anything.”

“It’s not about proving myself,” Steven picks up his pace and draws the knife out of its sheath.

His buddies, Dominic and Arrio, just crossed our path. A break in the clouds revealed their presence roughly thirty yards to the Northwest. They appeared to be heading around the north side of a butte. Then clouds gathered heavy and dense in the sky and they disappeared into the night.

“You’re a couple miles from your car. Let them go,” I say.

Steven turns to face me. “You don’t understand. Stop hounding me and leave if you don’t want to be here.”

I would like nothing else, but I don’t say it to his face. “Try and help me understand,” I say. “You don’t need the money. You’re great at your job and I can help you settle in a new place if you’ll let me. Your friends are going to prison when they’re caught. You don’t need a criminal history. Why would you risk it now? Come on, Steven. Life is waiting for you.”

He grips the knife handle tighter. His free hand flexes and clenches by his side. “Dominic’s been there for me when no one else was. We swore to each other. Don’t pretend to understand unless you have a blood brother.”

He glares at me from over his shoulder. His eyes accuse me as if he already knows I can’t relate to his situation. I didn’t have siblings growing up and I never swore an oath to anyone before, but the last twenty years I’ve spent with Marcus aren’t dissimilar to Steven’s friendship with Dominic.

When I don’t answer he says, “That’s what I thought. My father is always trying to make me into a man. He’s been telling me since forever, ‘Commit, Steven. Grow up and act like a man. Stop being a child. Take responsibility for your actions, Steven. The world doesn’t need more losers’.”

His hurtful, angry words slice the night in two. Letting him vent and listening without judging is as much therapy as I can offer.

“I chose Dominic as my family because my real family sucks. They don’t care about me. They want me to be someone I’m not. They’ve never accepted me for who I am. I’m going to be there for Dominic because he would do the same for me. It was a mistake to leave them.”

Steven jogs across the sloped bank of a shallow ravine. I don’t keep up with him. He needs a few minutes alone with his thoughts and emotions. He’s expressing himself, which is progress.

Most people think healing feels good. And it does, after a time. But the process of healing isn’t only slapping a band-aid over an open wound and waiting for it to get better. That’s only covering up the problem. Sometimes, healing can only begin by ripping off the band-aid, exposing the wound to sunshine and fresh air, cleansing the area, and finally letting the injury renew and grow. Steven is in the process of ripping the band-aid off. It can hurt like hell. This stage of healing often causes people to cower, hide, and remain in the familiar emptiness of denial. After my clients pass over, most of them are able to let go of past hurts. It’s a much harder process for living clients.

I thought this is what I wanted. To make a difference. To give my support to someone who is confused and not thinking clearly, but Steven is challenging my earlier notions. He makes me believe some people choose their misery and wallow in it.

After a few moments of needed solitude for both of us, I appear by Steven’s side. His anxious steps blindly tramp over everything in his path.

“Don’t start on me,” he says with a stiff jaw.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say tersely.

“Just because you think you’re right doesn’t mean you are, asshole.”

“Yep,” I agree.

His tension increases when I agree with him. I fall into step behind him once more. We’re silent as we weave through a stretch of thigh-high brush. The place where we last saw Dominic and Arrio is just ahead. The incline in front of us is littered with loose stones and jutting hazards to trip over. Steven is forced to move at a slower pace. I wonder if he’s lost his flashlight, but don’t mention it as we make our way around and over the hill.

“What was the plan before you took off?” I finally say.

“Get our horses back.”

“Have you considered talking them out of it?”

“Why would I? It’s what we do,” he hisses at me in the dark.

“Maybe you’re here to change their lives for the better.” I throw the idea out there with the hope he’ll bite.

My optimism earns me a disgusted grunt.

We round the north side of the hill and step into deeper shadows from a group of mature pinons and cedars. Steven moves as if driven by an internal compass. No hesitations or changes in direction.

“How do you know where you’re going?” I ask.

“Shut up,” he says.

I tap him on the shoulder to get him to look at me.

“If this were your last night on earth, is this really what you want to do?”

“Yes,” he snarls. “Stay and help, or get away from me.”

His decision sounds final. I’ve done what I can. Now, I wait to see where this twisted adventure leads.

Steven stops, leans forward on the balls of his feet, and tips his head into the night as if listening and searching for his friend. A murmur of voices teases my ear. There’s a louder call, but I’m unable to make out the words. I shift to the left, trying to locate their position. The night falls silent again. The urge to find out if we’ve caught up with Chris and his dad is strong, but my client holds my attention and I don’t want to leave him yet.

Steven lowers to one knee and searches inside his backpack. He removes a piece of cloth and stuffs it into his pocket before untethering the bow from his pack. Steven releases an arrow from the quiver and sets it aside. Leaning the bow against his leg, Steven uses the flame from his lighter to examine the bow more closely. He runs his fingers over the strings and makes a fine adjustment on the bow. Satisfied, he rises to his feet and settles the pack over his back. Silence stills even his breath as he listens to the night. Without a glance my way, he sets off again, knife handle sticking out of its sheath, and bow and arrow in hand.

 

∞

Juliana

 

“Were you bonding with a bear this morning?” I ask White Wolf.

“Bear? No. I won’t travel inside a bear. He is to be left alone,” Wolf says.

I sense the reverence in his words and I wonder if I asked something I shouldn’t have.

Chris rides next to me on Vannah, the bay mare, and asks, “Did you see a bear?”

“This morning. It was a first for me. I’ve been in the woods more times than I can count and I’ve never seen one until today.”

“Bear is our brother. I would not ask to share Bear’s body like I wouldn’t ask it of you.”

Sharing one body makes my skin crawl with the memories of being possessed, and the one time I was used by Star’s sister.

Chris interrupts my memories. “Tell me about the bear you saw, Jules.”

“Jared and I were awake early this morning. We were on the hill behind my house. The bear didn’t even notice us sitting there. He was huge and looked sleepier than I felt. I’ll never forget it. He was spectacular.”

“Tell me what you were doing on the hill,” Chris asks.

The beam of my flashlight crosses Chris’s face. He flinches at the bright light in his face, but I want to see what he’s really asking. His features don’t express much other than dead seriousness, but I’ve become somewhat of an expert at reading the subtle nuances of his frowns.

“We watched the sun rise and ate cinnamon rolls at five in the morning. It was only the two of us.”

“You were thinking about the great circle of life,” Chris says, as if he already knows what we were doing.

“You’re not a shapeshifter too, are you?” I ask. “Were you with the bear?”

Chris’s horse veers around another sagebrush. He guides Vannah close to me again so we can speak quietly. I’m only leading one other horse. White Wolf has two behind him and Chris has two. My inexperience with riding at night and the fact that I’m uncomfortable leading a horse I don’t know leaves me feeling like an insecure rider, but I’m doing the best I can. We’re riding down the opposite side of the mountain from their little camp and the truck should be in sight soon. The horses had to take a slightly different path than I did on foot, but we should be loading them into the trailer shortly.

“Bear only appears when you are seeking answers from the Great Void. Your vision and time spent sitting with your brother brought the bear into your space. The bear wants you to spend time in introspection. It is a good totem, Ant. You ask many questions, but the answer is in the void within.”

Chris’s observation brushes the depths of my soul, kind of like hitting home on a first try. However, before I can fully digest his comment, White Wolf adds his own token of wisdom.

“My son is full of serious jibber-jabber. The bear wanted your cinnamon rolls.” The old man smiles at me. “If you were eating smoked salmon, you wouldn’t have made it out alive.”

The pale outline of the truck rises from the distant clumps of sage and rabbitbrush. My mood lightens with every passing yard. Only the remaining concern of whether or not the trailer is large enough to hold all the horses, dwells in my bottomless pit of worry and anxiety.

“I’m a vegetarian,” I say, playing along with the old man.

“Oooohh,” he draws it out as if it is a crucial part of the tale. He says with a straight face, “That’s a Native word, you know.”

“Really?” I ask.

I glance at Chris for his reaction, which is almost always disapproving of his father’s words. His eyes are trained on the distance.

“It means, ‘can’t hunt’.” White Wolf giggles quietly in his saddle and turns his attention forward again.

Chris suddenly reaches a hand toward me, palm open.

“Shhh,” he hushes.

Chris reins in and I follow suit. White Wolf must not have heard us because he continues down the shallow slope toward the truck. Chris’s gaze holds steady on the trees to his left.

“If you see anyone, get out of here as quickly as possible,” he says. He nudges the horse with a heel and starts walking again.

“I thought you said the horse thieves ran off with their tails between their legs,” I say in as low a voice as possible.

“I did. Just in case I was mistaken,” he adds.

He sets his shoulders back, eyes on the horizon, refusing to look at me.

“Did you hear something?” I ask, feeling concern creep over me like a ghost at my back.

Chris clicks his tongue and urges Vannah on. Mika, my horse, — who doesn’t talk to me and yet Vannah still does — follows and we begin to trot. He’s much faster than Chris and Vannah. In part, because they have the two other horses tagging along behind, and because Mika is tall and powerful. We pass Chris and approach White Wolf’s train. White Wolf turns in his saddle as I near. He sees me, but his eyes quickly focus on Chris. With a single nod to his son, my senses shift into overdrive. Something very real passed between them and the tone of their silent exchange sets the nerve endings of my hair on edge.

Mika passes the others and I don’t hold him back. He may not be speaking to me in English, but the animal is clearly alert to the changes in my chemistry. The truck isn’t far and the muted white paint in the night may as well be a beacon of safety in this vast high desert.

I dismount next to the trailer and whisper to Mika. “You made it, boy. This is your ride to food and water.”

He watches me, but his ears are back as if he’s listening for Vannah and the others. I stroke his neck with a reassuring hand — for his peace of mind and my own. I murmur reassurances to the other horse tied to Mika and give her a scratch before shirking off my backpack and lowering it into the truck bed. Anxiety likes to be my annoying friend, but I didn’t want her hanging around tonight. The sooner we’re loaded, the sooner I can ditch the stress witch.

At the back of the stock trailer, I swing the metal door open and shine my flashlight inside. There’s a non-slip surface for the horses and not much else. It’s nothing fancy. I cross my fingers and take a long slow breath. The trailer appears large enough to hold all of the horses. I glance over at Mika and hope beyond hope every horse loads without trouble. This type of trailer doesn’t have a ramp like the one my grandmother uses. The horses have to step up to enter the trailer. One simple step can be a nightmare for horses who don’t care to ride inside enclosed spaces.

Chris, his dad, and their band of horses come to a halt within range of the trailer, but leave enough space to keep the horses comfortable. Dust fills the air with their arrival. The scent of dry desert clogs my nostrils and stings my eyes. White Wolf is oddly quiet and this only serves to heighten my alarm. Chris swings out of the saddle, moving faster than I thought possible with an injured leg. My imagination creates movements within every long shadow. Eight horses suddenly become a symphony of sound obstructing my straining ears. Any unexplainable sounds put me further on edge.

Chris brings Mika around to face the back of the open trailer. “Juliana,” he says. “Get inside the truck and lock the doors.”

I glance around, trying to pinpoint what has Chris so urgent. White Wolf is busy releasing the knots that are keeping the other horses in line.

“I can help,” I say.

“But you won’t,” Chris says as an order.

Not one to take orders easily, I’m about to argue my point when White Wolf slips into our midst, holding a tomahawk.

“I’ll wait for them over there,” he tips his head at two trees near the trail, which is our road out of here. “Can you manage the loading? Otherwise, Jules will need a weapon to help look over us.”

“Wait for who?” I ask.

Chris doesn’t acknowledge my question. He says, “I can manage. Juliana will be inside the truck waiting for us to finish.”

“Just like my son to exclude the woman,” White Wolf whispers. “His views about women aren’t as modern as his old man’s.”

“This isn’t a game, Wolf.” Chris’s warning tone is almost sends me scurrying to the cab to wait, but I hold my ground for another second.

“I won’t take her first raid from her. Don’t you remember your first time, Chris? Give her a chance to do it right the first time around.”

“This isn’t the same,” Chris says again, and focuses on Mika.

He directs me out of the way with a raised hand. Chris clicks his tongue and leads Mika toward the trailer.

“We’re playing some kind of game?” I ask incredulously.

“No, it’s not. Shine your light on the door,” Chris orders. “They need to see as much as possible.”

The beam moves to the bottom of the trailer just as Mika pulls his head back and stops in his tracks.

Chris clicks his tongue again, runs a hand over Mika’s flank, and says, “Load up.”

Mika snorts once, but heaves forward and steps into the trailer. The clip and clop of hooves and his heavy body moving forward echoes from the metal trailer. Chris climbs in with the huge animal and he settles Mika in the front.

“Best game of all my years,” Wolf says to me. His penetrating eyes are black as coal but his excitement is obvious.

Chris’s footsteps come up next to me. “Horse raiding is as serious as it gets. Now, get in the truck and wait. If you need to run, then run. With or without us. I won’t let you get injured in my father’s enthusiasm.”

White Wolf raises his tomahawk and yips and howls like a coyote. He grins and slips off into the shadows by some trees.

“You need the light. I drove this trailer all the way out here to help you with these horses, now let me do what I can."

Chris growls under his breath, but I don’t back down.

“Hurry,” I urge, as if it’s his fault we’re taking so long.

Chris leaves me standing next to Vannah, holding the flashlight. I place my hand near her hip, absorbing her warmth and taking comfort in her strength and size.

She stretches her long neck around to look at me. Her eyes reflect a bit of the light from the beam.

Climb on, she tells me.

Her voice is pure and direct. The fact that I’m hearing voices in my head again should be my first concern, but it’s not. I want to hear her say something again.

I run faster, she says.

Reaching for Vannah’s reins, I actually consider climbing back on, but my mind is slow as I try to understand why she’s telling me she runs faster.

Chris moves the second horse into position behind the trailer. I drop the leather reins and turn back to my duty of holding the flashlight. The horse enters without hesitation. Chris retrieves the blue roan and she refuses to load into the trailer. The filly backs away and throws her head instead of stepping into the stock trailer. Chris tries again, but the horse will not cooperate. The third try, the young horse rears and twists slightly to the side. Before she stamps off, Chris grabs her harness and strokes her neck. He whispers calming words to her in his native language and she settles.

Not me, though. Already on edge, the stress from the horse has my hands shaking and my back muscles screaming with tension. Vannah decides this is the perfect time to whinny like a storm siren. The sound surprises me and I jump nearly out of my skin, which causes the filly to startle. Chris has a good hold on her, but no one is holding Vannah. She flinches and stomps her hooves in protest. My instincts are fast and I take her reins before she bolts. One of the horses answers Vannah with a deep, chesty neigh.

Before I realize what’s happening, Vannah lunges to her left. The reins zip through my hands. I manage to keep ahold of one. Not a person to stay calm in a moment of excitement, my heart leaps into my throat and I choke out a shaky, “Whoa there, girl.”

Vannah rears, hooves flailing. I manage to hold on and pull her back to all fours. That’s when it dawns on me there’s chaos going on behind us.

I whip my head around and see White Wolf’s snowy hair shining in the dimness of the night. His arm swings at the shadowed outline of a man. There’s a heavy grunt followed by the nightmarish sound of bodies colliding and falling to the ground. Chris is nowhere to be seen. The filly is leashed to the trailer door. Excited by the commotion, the filly rears and breaks free of her lead rope.

The horse blocks my view of White Wolf. As she runs free, I see Wolf kneeling on the ground next to his attacker. He raises his tomahawk and is getting ready to bring it down once again. The man under him isn’t moving. The violence, Chris’s warning, and Vannah’s suggestion to get on is enough to make me launch myself into the saddle and race to get away.

Vannah picks the direction. Even if I knew where I wanted to go, I wouldn’t be able to convince her to go my way. My body lunges forward and back as I hang onto the saddle like my life depends on it. Dark shapes speed up to us, and I realize almost too late it’s the other horses. I notice one of the horses has a rider.

The other horse swerves left and Vannah follows. The abrupt change in direction nearly hurls me out of the saddle. I clutch to the horn and call out. “Chris!”

I lean forward for a better view of the rider, but Vannah takes my cue as direction to speed up. I don’t know how she can go any faster, but her powerful rear quarters bunch and dig in, propelling us forward. We gain a few yards and I recognize Chris’s silhouette. He’s galloping toward the outline of three horses, head to tail, running due north. We’re gaining on them quickly. Without reins in hand, I have no control to stop or change Vannah’s direction. I’m helpless as I hang on and pray my horse’s footing is more secure than my doubts. Suddenly, Chris gallops alongside another rider who I hadn’t noticed before. He launches himself onto the man and I scream in terror as the two bodies tumble to the ground and disappear from sight. Groans and grunts mingle with the sound of galloping hooves.

Vannah’s instinct must be to stay with the other horses. Within seconds of passing the three runaway horses, she slows to a walk and begins to circle back. Unable to unglue my thighs from the saddle, I lie flat against her neck and grope for the dropped reins, hoping against hope they haven’t snapped off. My fingers wrap around the smooth strip of leather. I wrap the rein loosely around the saddle horn before leaning forward again to retrieve the other dangling rein.

Shaking like an addict fresh off the juice, I manage to sit back up and start searching for the lost horses before they disappear into the night. Or before the horse thieves grab them.

There’s no thoughts about the risk I’m taking. All that zooms through my head is the vision playing over and over inside my mind. Panicking horses, a wildfire, and choking on smoke. I glance at the now distant hill where we left the warm campfire ring behind. To my relief, there’s no ungodly orange glow of flames on the horizon or hint of smoke in the air.

I survey my surroundings in a search for the other horses, but when I see their large outlines against the night, I also find someone is already with them. I make the terrible mistake of assuming it’s Chris. As I near the group, I’m suddenly confronted by a guy aiming a bow and arrow straight at my chest.

“Get off the horse,” he says.

I pull back the reins.

He’s one of them, Vannah says. I won’t go with them. I’ll trample him to death like Mika and White Wolf did to the bad man.

“No,” I say. It comes out of me half-choked.

The man doesn’t know I’m talking to Vannah, so he shoots me. Luckily, my beloved and beautiful horse responds more appropriately than I do. She spins away so fast that I topple off. The crushing pain of hitting the earth with no warning is probably worse than being pierced with an arrow, but then again, maybe not. All I know is I scream from equal amounts of fright, surprise, pain, and denial. Why did I come out here? Nathaniel once accused me of having a death wish and maybe he’s right.

“You better not have hit her!”

The voice sounds so much like Nathaniel’s that tears of relief instantly pool around my eyes. Or perhaps the tears are from my broken shoulder and hip, but who knows.

“Get away from her!” Nathaniel screams.

“I didn’t know, man. I thought it was the other guy.”

I see him then. He really is an angel. My gift from heaven. Nathaniel’s face is right in front of mine. My boyfriend is actually here. Why didn’t I call for him earlier? I think as the pain sears and burns a new understanding of the word agony into my memory. He could have… What? What would I have done differently?

The look in Nathaniel’s eyes makes the tears fall. They had been hanging on the edge, but they’re leaking now. His mask of horror at seeing me on the ground makes me believe I’ve done him in for real this time. He always tells me he can’t see me suffer. This time must be the straw that breaks him.

He brushes his hand over my face and moves my hair back with such tenderness, I almost forget about the throbbing pain.

“Juliana,” he whispers. Without another word, he scoops me into his arms and takes me far away.

The ground is moving too fast to comprehend. Warmth, like sunbathing on a hot beach penetrates through my clothes, wraps around me, and heats me to my core. Nathaniel pumps me full of life-force energy. It eases the ache in my shoulder and hip, but the wind and the pressure of him holding me against him is smothering.

“Stop,” I croak. “Nathaniel, please.”

He keeps moving us farther and farther away.

“Go back!” I squirm in his arms.

He slows down and stares into my eyes. I don’t think he’s registering my words.

“Go back right now!” I say again.

“Juliana, what are you doing here?”

“Saving my sanity. What are you doing here?”

He shakes his head with confusion. “Losing mine. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Who says I’m not?” I ask.

Nathaniel glances around and finally stops. With me still cradled in his arms, he walks to a sheltered area by some boulders. He sinks to his knees and lays me on the ground in a patch of soft sand.

“How badly are you hurt?” He begins exploring my body for injuries.

His hands run over my shoulders and along my arms and legs. He tests the movement of my ankles before he works his way back up again. In another situation, I might return the favor, but the clinical, distant feel of his palpating isn’t exactly for pleasure. I wince when he squeezes my hip.

His hand stops over the spot and I feel the injection of healing warmth.

“Where else, Jules? You weren’t crying on the ground for no reason.”

His harsh tone makes me defensive.

“Take me back to Vannah right now!” I say. “She can’t be stolen. I won’t let her go. She won’t go. She told me she’ll kill him.” The hysteria spews from my mouth and I’m not capable of stopping it.

“Jules,” Nathaniel warns.

I push his hands away and begin to rise. His arms become my bonds as I attempt to get up.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I just told you.” I shove against his chest even though we both know it’s wasted effort.

The whimper escapes my lips before I can hold it in. My shoulder doesn’t like particular movements right now. Nathaniel alerts to my pain and he moves his palm to my shoulder cuff.

“Here?” he asks.

I look away from his imploring gaze. Vannah’s voice is still fresh in my mind. The arrow zinging past us and disappearing into the night as I fell off her. She was so frightened, but I could tell she was more scared by my accident than by the man with the bow.

“We have to go back,” I say. The stupid tears are returning.

“I was helping Chris when I heard you scream,” Nathaniel says. He’s still harsh, but it isn’t directed right at me anymore. It’s the fear coming out of him as anger. “Where did you come from? I knew the sound was a girl, but I never would have guessed it was you on the ground.”

“What happened to Chris? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know. Your scream made me change directions. None of us can see a bloody thing in this dark.”

“Was that Steven who tried to shoot me?”

“Yes. He’ll never come near you again. What he’s done is unforgiveable.”

“I heard him, Nathaniel. I heard him say he didn’t know it was me.”

“Don’t defend him. He tried to kill you. Or Chris. Or Chris’s dad.”

“I’m not shot,” I say, returning to the problem that won’t leave me alone. “The horses need us, and we can’t leave Chris and White Wolf. What if they’re injured? I’m going back.”

“No. I’ll go. You’re going to stay out of it.”

“Like hell I am,” I say, and rise to my feet. I scramble away from Nathaniel and brush my tangled locks of hair from my face.

“Juliana, please come back. Do you even know where you’re going?”

Nathaniel follows as I stomp off into the desert. He has somehow managed to find an out of the way spot among the endless miles of nothingness. We’re in a ravine. I see the top a foot above my head, but I don’t know where or how he brought us down here without jumping.

“I can find my way to Mars and back without you. So, you can either come with me or go back to the spirit world where you’re supposed to be.”

“Ouch,” Nathaniel says, and I immediately regret my choice of words.

I refuse to take it back, but I also refuse to leave Chris, White Wolf, Vannah, and the other horses.

Nathaniel sweeps me off my feet without warning and we’re running back across the high mountain desert.

Moments later, Nathaniel sets me on my feet, but holds the side of my face in his cupped palms. He plants a tender kiss on my lips. His eyes never leave mine. “Stay here. I’ll make sure the area is clear. If it is, we’ll pick up the horse and take it back to the trailer. Let’s play like we’re on the same team, vixen.”

I nod in agreement. He takes a deep breath, backs up, and disappears.

The shape of a horse is about ten yards away. There’s no way to know if the horse thieves are waiting nearby and this is a trap. The horse’s head is down and appears to be grazing. Nathaniel reaches for its bridle. Relief pours into me but it’s short lived. We found one horse. Who knows where the others are — not to mention the thieves and shamans. At least we have Nathaniel’s angelic abilities on our side in this mad game of horse thievery.

Thinking about Nathaniel’s powers reminds me that Star’s magical lilac flowers are inside my backpack. Leaving my pack in the truck bed can now be added to the top of the list of non-brilliant things I’ve done this year.

He ran, Vannah tells me as Nathaniel brings her over.

I wrap my arms around her neck. Knowing this amazing animal is okay makes the entire night seem not quite as horrendous.

“Get on,” Nathaniel says. “We have to find the rest.”

“I have to ask her first. She may be too exhausted.”

Before I ask, Vannah lowers her muzzle into my outstretched hand and blows softly against my skin. I run my hand over her neck and I hear, I’m much stronger than you think. I’ll carry you both. We need to find White Wolf and his son. Your friend smells like sky and earth. He is my friend, too.

“She wants both of us to ride.” I wrap my arm around her long neck again and hug her with gratitude.

“I’m struggling to not be jealous over here, but I think you’re happier to see the horse than you are to see me.”

I close my eyes against Vannah’s smooth coat and smell her horsey scent of hay, old leather, dust, and sage. It’s familiar and comforting, but nothing like the heavenly smell of the person standing behind me.

I spin around and reach for Nathaniel. Gripping his shirt in my fists, I lean into him and bury my face against his chest. “I’m such an idiot sometimes. Why do you put up with me?”

“Because you amaze me,” he says softly. He wraps me in his arms and presses his cheek to the top of my head.

“Yeah, I’m amazingly inconsiderate. Of course, I’m glad you’re here. There aren’t words to describe my gratitude.” Shocked by my own behavior, I can’t even look at him.

“You’re amazingly focused on doing what’s right. I can’t fault you for that. I have the same problem.”

“You know, I’m adding something to the top of our inexplicable list right this second.”

I picture the earnest look on his gorgeous face and swallow my foolish pride before glancing up at him.

“You. You’re at the very top of the list. You’re an unexplainable phenomenon who puts up with the worst girlfriend ever.”

“If that’s true, then I need to go find this other girlfriend, because you’ll never convince me you’re anything but perfect.”

I shake my head at how swiftly he turned that around to being about me again. “Thanks for putting up with me.” I slide my hand around his neck and begin to pull his head down to mine.

“Ditto,” he says and meets me halfway with another tender and sweet, blissful kiss that makes my insides swirl and dance to music that plays only for the two of us.

All kissing aside, there’s still much to accomplish tonight. Back in the saddle, Vannah trots southeast, and Nathaniel leaves to scout for the next horse. He’s only gone for a couple of minutes.

“It’s not good, love,” Nathaniel says as he settles behind me.

He holds my waist and I lean back against the heat of his body. Vannah’s rolling gait provides a good swaying rhythm.

“Should I even try to convince you to stay with the truck and let me take care of it?”

“How bad is it?” I ask, and glance over my shoulder.

“Steven and Dominic have Chris and four of the horses. They’re riding northeast. White Wolf is attempting to follow.”

“No!” I say in shock and feel myself sinking into despair at the thought of Chris being taken captive. Why would they take him?

Shifting my weight forward and squeezing Vannah with my thighs, I urge her into a lope. She responds immediately. “And no, I won’t be left behind.”

“I didn’t think you would. I already stalled them. We’ll start heading east from here and we’ll catch them.”

Nathaniel hugs me tight and I try to keep from trembling. “What did you do?”

“Steven may have taken a fall similar to the one you experienced.”

We keep our voices low, even though anyone with ears can hear the horse approaching.

“What horse is Steven riding?” I ask, thinking about the shock Nathaniel must have given the animal.

“I don’t know. A red one?” he says. “It looked all right after Steven ate some dirt.”

Nathaniel doesn’t know the animals. He’s focused on his client and keeping me safe.

I spot the truck on our right and say, “I need my backpack.”

Vannah alters our course and runs to the pickup truck. There’s a body lying tied up on the ground and Fetch barks once as we ride up. I don’t recognize the man, but Nathaniel says, “I see Arrio met his match with White Wolf.”

When he sees us, the man struggles against his bonds and grunts through the gag tied over his mouth. We ignore him as I retrieve my bag from the truck bed.

With the pack nestled in front of me, I let Nathaniel guide Vannah. We pass the side of the trailer and I see Mika and one other horse inside. Three are accounted for, plus the horse White Wolf rides makes four. Nathaniel said Steven and his fellow raider have a total of four horses. I remove the crystal vial from my backpack as we set out at a canter. With Nathaniel’s arms around me and Vannah’s power and confidence beneath me, I let myself focus on the magic inside the bottle.

“What is that?” Nathaniel asks.

“Something for our protection,” I say.

He gives me a reassuring squeeze.

I take a large pinch of the dried flowers and sprinkle them over my head. The lilacs perfume the air around us. Breathing deep, I take the scent into my body as the spirit vines form a cage around me. I take another pinch and dust the back of Vannah’s neck, wondering if Star’s magic will work on her. The lilacs vines form once again and suddenly we’re surrounded by a hedge of ghostly green leaves and pale purple blooms. I repack the bottle into the side pocket of my pack as Nathaniel points ahead.

A rider crosses our path, heading north and slightly east. “White Wolf,” Nathaniel says confidently. “I’ll get him.”

We meet up minutes later. White Wolf’s eyes twinkle as if unseen stars shine from inside. His eager aura is betrayed by the hard frown of his mouth.

“I have to find Chris and Steven,” Nathaniel says. “Call me if you need me and I’ll be here for you in an instant.”

“Your spirit guide helps us this night,” White Wolf says with an approving nod.

“I’ll be right back after I figure out where they are,” Nathaniel says and disappears.