Authors: Ellen Connor

Tags: #Romance, #General, #Paranormal, #Fiction

Daybreak (10 page)

BOOK: Daybreak

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“You owe me,” she said.

He considered in silence, face half in shadow. The hair over his brow made him appear impossibly boyish yet heavy-lidded eyes maintained a cold distance, even after what she’d just described. Hard to believe he must feel more than he revealed. Pen looked away.
Never mind
, she thought. She didn’t need a confessor or a confidant. She needed a hard man who could get her to a civilization worth fighting for.

For the first time she wondered if she’d actually find such a place. The words “wild-goose chase” hit along the inside of her skull like a ball bouncing loose. She’d been searching for years. Listening to the voices that said she was a prophet or a lunatic. What would it be like to give that up? Just find a quiet corner of the Changed world and piece together a little happiness?

She couldn’t even imagine it.

The soft whisper of his movement was all the warning she had. He shifted, kneeling before her and took both hands in his. The sunlight was stronger now. No one should have eyes that beautiful, that soulful—and yet so empty inside. Only, when Pen looked this time, he was right there with her.
Present
. Some inner rooms remained shut up and locked tight. A man like Tru might never throw open all the dark closets. But he wasn’t leaving her behind. Not yet.

“I was eighteen.” His voice took on that hypnotic quality, as if the sound could lull a restless child. She’d been that child once, but no longer. Now his voice melted her by slow degrees, warming and opening a tight place deep inside. “On my own for, oh, a year? Kinda high on it. All those skills Mason taught me kept my ass out of trouble, mostly. Until I got backed into this canyon. Demon dogs were thick on the ground back then.”

He dropped his gaze to the damp dirt. “It didn’t take much. Just that moment I realized I wasn’t going to make it. Something snapped in my head. I woke up two days later, sprawled at the base of a tree. Clothes gone. After that, it just became . . . simpler.”

Two blinks later, he retreated, and then gave Adrian a nudge with the toe of his boot. “Up and at ’em, kid. Time to move.”

They packed the truck quickly. Tru stood guard with a rifle as Adrian ate some gator for breakfast. Ten minutes later, still in silence, they yanked the rusted truck doors shut and headed north. Tru drove. Adrian slept in the back. Sitting in the passenger seat, stomach still rumbling, Pen couldn’t eat. Her mind was lost to the pain of the past, the muddled emotions of the present, and the unknowns of the future.

TEN

Relief spilled through Tru’s veins. It hadn’t been as bad as he imagined after seeing her bleak expression. He had been afraid, as he seldom was—at least not since he learned to shift. And that bothered him. He hated this fucking vulnerability. Didn’t want to care.

Honestly, Tru had expected a rape story. Sad as hell that they lived in such a world, but it could have been worse. Maybe Pen didn’t think so, but she’d probably never found a girl dying on a dusty road, her face mutilated to match her genitals. Or maybe she had. It was hard telling what horrors she’d experienced, hidden behind her dusky blue eyes, behind her silence and reserve.

Driving occupied his attention, between the bad road and wildlife that darted in front of the truck. They kept moving even through mealtimes, stopping only for quick bio-breaks. The scenery changed gradually to tell him they were out of Florida. Wind rushing through the open window stole a little humidity, though it was still hot as hell. He’d give a lot for a dip in a cold lake.

With the busted fuel gauge, he had no idea how much gas remained in the tank. “Keep an eye out for any machinery,” he said.

Adrian nodded, craning his neck to look out the window. “On it.”

But the few shacks they passed were so humble that they boasted no equipment at all. Tru couldn’t bring himself to terrorize anybody for no good reason. Their possession of an O’Malley truck wouldn’t win friends either. One faction would fear them, and the other would try to kill them.

Near noon, the vehicle sputtered. Eventually it coasted to a stop in the middle of nowhere. Which was the whole damn world, compared to what it had been.

“I guess we’re on foot from now on,” he said, opening the door.

Penelope waited until Adrian got out. She followed and stretched with deliberate grace. “It shouldn’t take us more than a couple of days from here, even walking.”

That was true, as they’d already covered a good distance. Jacking the vehicle made for faster travel, but it also accelerated their timetable in a way Tru hadn’t expected. He needed to step up his game, but the better he got to know her, the more reluctant he felt about sleeping with her. His usual methods seemed . . . wrong. Without a quick course correction, they’d wind up talking about feelings. Already they’d come perilously close—opening doors to intimacy that should be shut and bolted.

To get away from his unsettling thoughts, Tru beckoned to the kid. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of gator meat.”

“I could eat something else.” But Adrian diluted his wishes with a shrug, as if he didn’t expect them to be heard, much less granted.

“Let’s do some foraging.” At the boy’s questioning look, Tru added, “It means looking for edible plants.”

“Oh.”

“You never did that before?”

“I grew up on a farm,” the kid said, eyes distant. “I don’t remember much from before the Change. Except I know Pop had to kill scary stuff from time to time. Afterward.”

An unsought confession. He guessed the boy wanted to connect with him, and he imagined sharing was the way to go about it. Tru hadn’t let himself get into this position in years, which meant he needed to decide whether to encourage this or shut it down. He settled on a quiet nod. Let the kid choose to continue.

“Two years ago, my dad died. Ma didn’t do so well after that.”

Tru could imagine. Women and children were fodder in the Changed world. “I’m sorry. Did you have brothers or sisters?”

Why the hell did you ask? Idiot.

“I had a sister, but she died in the Change.”

Tru remembered all too clearly the result of those first, failed shifters. How good people had turned inside out, their bodies unable to meet the magic’s demands. Bad people became demon dogs on the prowl.

Before Adrian could share something else, Tru started a monologue on the plants he was gathering: mushrooms that may have been chanterelles, watercress, plantains, possibly dandelion greens. A strange salad, but his human side needed something besides meat—yet another reason why he spent most of his days as a lion. Dinnertime offered no difficulty.

They walked east toward the water, over a rise, to where enough dirt produced fertile ground. Down the slope lay the beach and the ocean itself. Adrian stared, wide-eyed.

“First time?” Tru asked.

The kid nodded, speechless.

“Why don’t you do a little wading? I’d suggest a swim, but we don’t have a way for you to rinse off. Salt water’s itchy as hell if you get it all over you.”

Adrian wouldn’t appreciate Tru worrying about tides, undertow, and currents. This was better. More tactful, less an insult to the kid’s delicate pride.

“I don’t know how to swim anyway.”

Tru nodded. “Then let’s go get our feet wet.”

Their original mission postponed, he trailed the boy down the beach. It had been a long time since he’d seen the sea. Tru knew how to swim, thanks to summers at the Y, where they never let him forget he was a charity case.

That world was dead and gone. Kids had it tougher these days, crazy as that sounded.

He mustered endless patience while Adrian danced in and out of the waves, never mentioning that they would lose the light, with nothing collected to eat. Instead Tru played some. Mostly he watched with a sharp pain in his heart, remembering,
aching
because of a loss he’d spent years trying to escape.

But this . . . there was no denying this. His world had stopped making sense days ago.

Adrian pulled himself from the waves one last time, then glanced at the setting sun. “I guess we’d better get to work. This was fun, though.”

Something you’ve had too little of, I suspect.

On the way back, they cruised the green hills and came back with shirts full of goodies. At the derelict truck, Pen had set up camp; she watched their approach with a lift of her chin. Deliberately, Tru settled on the opposite side and laid out the bounty on a blanket. They had no plates or silverware. He never traveled with such niceties. In fact, he only owned one change of clothes and a few odds and ends. Nothing to remind him of his former life.

What was gone was gone. Burned. Lost forever.

After a few bites of his strange, slightly bitter salad, he looked at Pen across the small clearing that sheltered their camp. “How were they, before you left? Mason and Jenna.”

“That was a long time ago,” she said.

“I’m aware.”

“They were good. By then, they’d gotten the knack of farming and making their own medicines. And they had a baby.”

He didn’t know why that news gave him a twinge. Tru was sure they barely remembered him. He’d stayed a couple of years, just long enough to learn what he needed to keep from becoming a helpless victim. Then he’d gone off to find his own place in the world.

Adventure, first . . . and then belonging. A couple of lines from a poem flickered in his head.
So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.
Years had passed since he’d thought of the pleasure words used to provide. As a kid he’d spent most of his time lost in books, bathing in other people’s pain—dulling his own with that stark beauty.

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy. They named him Mitchell. But they might have had more after I left.”

“Brave of them. I wouldn’t want the responsibility.”

Not ever again.

He returned to his salad, determined to eat rather than dwell. His lion side encouraged him to live in the present, and that simplicity kept him sane.

But Adrian must have heard something different in Tru’s evasive words. “You don’t have to be responsible for me,” the kid muttered.

Tru didn’t make the mistake of trying to salve his wounded pride. “What the hell?” He spoke sharply. “Don’t be stupid. You’re almost a man. I was talking about some toddler who can’t figure out where to piss without help.”

“Oh.” A bright smile lit up the boy’s face, and Tru felt like a bastard.

Not that he’d lied. But he didn’t want that kind of influence. Considering he’d gotten into this mess by following his prick, he hoped he wouldn’t have to cut it off in order to escape the closing trap.

Pen glanced between them with an unnerving expression of comprehension. Her look gentled, making him think she liked this side of him. Whatever. He scowled, his mood darkening. Probably sexual frustration, and since they only had a few more days before reaching their destination, he ought to do something about pushing for deeper contact. His unwillingness to proceed still mystified him.

After the salad, they ate more gator meat. Protein and greenery would keep them from malnutrition on the journey, but once they arrived, everyone needed to eat bread and butter. Lots of butter. Adrian especially needed the fat to fuel a growth spurt.

I wonder if babies born after the Change will be shorter, due to a lack of variety in their diets.
An interesting question, but one the demands of survival meant would likely remain unanswered.

And why the hell was he thinking about babies?

Watching Adrian play in the ocean, he decided, and the news about Jenna and Mason’s son. Maybe one day he’d head west, surprise them with a visit, and play the cool uncle for a day or two before hitting the road.

Satisfied with that plan, he settled on his blanket with the intention of turning in. Not because he was exhausted, but because he was tired of people. Tired of conversation. If it wouldn’t be an impractical allocation of resources, he’d shift and sleep as a lion to further discourage interaction. And unwelcome memories.

As before, Adrian went to sleep first. And then Pen did something unusual. She came to him.

“What do you need?” He didn’t want to argue with her, nor did he want to negotiate.

“Have you forgotten the terms of our agreement?”

Doubtless she was about to produce some clause that required him to do her bidding. He arched a brow in what he hoped was a discouraging fashion.

“
Two
kisses today, you said.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered. “We can defer them.”

“I pay my debts.”

“I don’t want ‘debt kisses’ tonight. And I’m in no mood to persuade you to make them something else. So it’s better if you leave me alone.”

“What’s the matter?”

As if she hadn’t created the problem with her constant talking.

BOOK: Daybreak

4.99Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub