True North (The Bears of Blackrock Book 4) (5 page)

Jesus, you sound like a paranoid lunatic, she thought.

“And you came all the way up here to find family? All the way up here?”

Theron’s brow narrowed. “I did. Given my family is Inuit, that shouldn’t come as such a surprise. Why did
you
come all the way up here?”

Sinead stiffened, but before she could respond, the door to the meeting house burst open, and Darrell Holden marched into the small building with his cousins, Dave and Pauloosie.

Buniq jerked in her desk chair, hiding her hands behind her back. She didn’t want her older brother, Darrell, to see that she’d been sneaking in the commodity boxes.

“Well, what’s going on here?” Darrell said, shaking out his coat to brush off a few tiny flecks of snow.

Theron turned toward the coming group, offering up a hand. Darrell took it and shook it, rigorously. A bit more rigorously than was necessary, Sinead noted.

Theron’s jaw muscles rolled under the skin, and Sinead was sure he was in pain, but pretending otherwise.

“I’m Theron. Theron Talbot -”

“Sure you are. Well, the schoolhouse is no place for us. Come on outside, we’ll get you acquainted with the place. Kids should be here any minute, huh Shinny?”

Sinead watched, wordless as Darrell and Pauloosie wrapped their arms around Theron’s shoulders and led him out the door. Despite his hurt ankle, he walked as evenly as he could. Sinead rolled her eyes to see it. The posturing of men was ridiculous to her.

The schoolhouse door slammed shut behind them, and their voices trailed off in the cold air outside. Sinead took a deep breath as the air within the schoolhouse seemed to chill in the new stranger’s absence.

“Where are they taking him?” Buniq asked, dusting the crumbs from her skirt as she stood up.

“I don’t know, sweetie. Did you get any stones for me when you were out there?”

Sinead didn’t listen to the response, but instead marched across the schoolhouse to where Theron had been standing.

He’d left his backpack.

Let’s see who you really are, then.

Sinead pulled the pack open and began rifling through. A couple button down shirts, a Dead Kennedy’s t-shirt, some boxers and socks. Nothing to betray his trekking into the arctic for a long haul.

Unless –

Sinead’s fingers bumped into something hard. A cell phone. She felt her heart shoot into her throat. Despite knowing full well there would be no signal on the Extension, just the thought of seeing a cell phone again made her heart race. This small contraption reminded her for an instant that there was a world outside those fences. That there was a bustling world of news, and cars and busses, of soap operas and radio djs. She pulled up the screen to find it locked, a single text message waiting on the lock screen.

Where the hell are you off to, jackass?

It was from a Maggie. Her stomach dropped for an instant, but she ignored the sensation and continued to search.

“No, no! Dar is taking him out to the fence! Miss Dalton! They’re going to the fence!”

Sinead didn’t compute the words. She was too riled up by her search. Buniq rushed past her toward the school door and disappeared outside.

“Buniq, honey,” she said in idle protest, but she didn’t move.

She’d found his wallet.

The leather billfold opened to a smudged Maine license – Theron Talbot, b. 9/13/85.

There was a frequent coffee card from the Blackrock Inn, a Machias Savings Bank card, and a worn piece of paper tucked into the back. Sinead pulled it out and unfolded it.

The picture showed a family, two girls, one boy, and their stoic, but smiling parents. Sinead stared at the mother’s face in the picture and held her breath. She recognized that half smile.

Suddenly, Buniq’s words registered in Sinead’s mind. They were going out to the fence.

Shit!

Sinead lunged for the door and burst out into the cold. She didn’t stop to scan the horizon as she ran down the stairs.

“Buniq!” She yelled, but there was no sign of the girl.

Sinead turned toward the gate, flecks of snow whirling around her face. She ran as fast as her worn out shoes would take her, but stopped not too long after. There was male laughter coming from the east – down toward the water. Sinead cut across the field and started trudging toward the sound.

“Hey!” She yelled. “Darrell!”

The laughter echoed again, and she doubled her speed. The cold wasn’t too desperate, but she hadn’t bothered to grab her scarf or mittens, and her teeth were beginning to chatter.

“Darrell!!”

The figures came into clear view up ahead, Theron standing with his hand just inches from the fence. Darrell was trying to get Theron to touch the wires.

“Don’t touch it! It’ll kill you!”

Sinead stopped short, turning to find Buniq running up from the north side of the Extension.

Theron turned to glare at Darrell, but before he could speak, Darrell knocked him on his ass with a punch to the gut.

He wound up to hit Theron again, but Buniq roared across the field, her teeth bared, and threw herself at Darrell, punching and slapping his face and chest.

Darrell held onto his sister, trying to calm her, but Buniq wasn’t alone. “Step aside! Buniq says this man was nearly shot by the Kabloonuk. Will you get off him?”

Pearl stood over the prone man and glared with an all too familiar expression.

The same expression Sinead saw in Theron’s photograph.

Pearl turned back down to Theron, searching his face as though words might be written there. “We don’t have enough to feed another mouth. Why did he bring you?”

Theron shook his head, but didn’t speak. It looked as though the wind was knocked out of him.

The older woman smacked Darrell upside the head, took Buniq’s hand and began to walk away. “Miss Dalton, would you help the visitor back to the school house while I deal with these idiots. We’ll deliver him back to the gate this evening. Hopefully, they’ll come collect their little spy.”

Sinead dropped down to Theron, touching her hands gently to his bruised cheek. “Wait! Miss Pearl.”

Theron’s touched his hand to his head and groaned as he forced himself to a seated position.

“Pearl?” He called, forcing it out in the little breath he could manage. “Pearl Holden?”

Everyone went silent a moment.

Finally, the chief stepped back toward them. Sinead felt small there in her gaze.

“Yes. That is my name.”

Theron gasped, rolling up onto his knees to greet her properly, his hand still holding his stomach. Sinead watched him try to rise, but he couldn’t. He remained on all fours a moment. It looked as though he might be sick.

Theron managed another deep breath. “I’m your grandson.”

There was a murmur among the people gathered, then the sound of Pearl smacking Darrell again, harder this time.

“Theron, honey?” Pearl said, crouching down to him.

Theron’s face contorted, and Sinead’s heart hurt. It was as though the term of endearment hurt him.

“God damn it, someone get him up. Bring him to my house,” Pearl said, turning to those now gathered around. “Everyone! You know the drill. Scatter before they notice we were all here.”

Sinead watched Pearl turn toward Darrell as Pauloosie and Dave helped Theron to his feet She glared with such fury, Sinead thought Pearl meant to drill a hole through him with her eyes.

“Nice job, idiot,” she said. “You almost killed your cousin.”

CHAPTER FIVE

THERON

“You can climb on through here? I’ll spot ya. Some of the best fishing you’ll see in your life just up the shore here.”

Darrell pointed northward as Theron’s hand tightened on the fishing rod the three men handed him just outside the schoolhouse. He swallowed, glancing at the other two men who’d yet to say a single word. Theron offered a smile and walked over to join Darrell by the fence.

“Just climb through?” He asked, feeling a tightness in his chest. He eyed the fence. This was the closest he’d come to it and there was no question in his mind that this fence was meant to carry a charge.

“Yeah. If you wouldn’t mind going first, I need you to spot me when I come through. Bad knees. The rocks always give me trouble.”

Theron’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t want to be rude.

Still, something felt wrong. The teacher had been so displeased with his presence, so suspicious, yet these men were all smiles and pats on the shoulder. Theron took a step forward, eyeing the fence. “It’s not carrying a charge?”

The three men shifted where they stood.

“What? Up here? We run on generators, friend. There’s no juice to -”

“Don’t touch it! It’ll kill you!”

Theron and the three men turned just in time to see Sinead running over the rocky terrain, her long red curls bouncing behind her.

“Sinead?” Darrell said, half under his breath.

Theron turned to look at Darrell just as the air left his lungs in a violent burst. Darrell had punched him square in the gut. Theron hunched over, dropping backward to the ground.

Theron fought to catch his breath, looking up at Darrell as he tried to speak. The man’s fist hit Theron’s cheek, knocking him down onto his side. Voices were picking up in the distance, the sound of men, women, and children running toward the drama.

“Stop! The children are following. They’ll see!” Someone said. Suddenly, a blur of pigtails flew into view, knocking Darrell back.

Theron’s head pounded and his ears rang, leaving him deaf and dumb to the cacophony around him. People were coming closer, some yelling, some moving around him. Theron pressed his hand to his ribs and heard a name he recognized.

“Pearl?” He called, forcing it out in the little breath he could manage. “Pearl Holden?”

Everyone went silent a moment.

“Yes. That is my name.”

Theron gasped, rolling up onto his knees to greet her properly, his hand still holding his stomach. Yet he couldn’t rise. He remained on all fours a moment, fearing he would be sick. Theron managed another deep breath. “I’m your grandson.”

A long moment passed, a moment filled with voices and murmurs he just didn’t have the strength to give attention to. Then in the noise, a voice pulled him from the haze.

“Theron, honey?”

Theron’s face contorted. Familiarity overwhelmed him at that moment. He hadn’t heard this woman’s voice for well over a decade, but hearing it now – that same gentle tone that called every year on his birthday when he was a child – it was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

“God damn it, someone get him up -”

With that, hands gripped under Theron’s arms and hoisted him to his feet. A moment later, Theron’s arms were draped over the shoulders of two men, supporting his weight as they hauled him over the grass toward his grandmother’s home. The same men who moments earlier stood by in wait of his touching what he now knew was an electrified fence.

Theron didn’t look back at Darrell Holden. He fought to steady himself between the arms of his cousins. He didn’t know them by name, but he was sure that if their name was Holden, they were his blood, nonetheless.

Theron hissed as he put weight on his ankle again, then shot a glance back at the fiery, red haired teacher. She stood just a few yards off, her puffy coat pushing her wild hair up around her ears.

Her teeth were chattering. She was cold.

Theron turned away, hoping she hadn’t seen him staring.

She was cold, he thought. She wasn’t a shifter.

Then what the hell was she doing up here with the Holden clan?

He didn’t have his wits about him enough to ponder it. It was taking all he could muster just to put one foot in front of the other.

Theron was settled onto Grandma Pearl’s couch moments later, and soon Buniq appeared, sneakily passing him half of a granola bar as his cousins were given orders to go collect the commodity boxes from the road.

Her energy was tense, touching Theron repeatedly as she sat nearby. He’d heard her screaming down by the fence, raging at her brother for what he’d almost done. It made Theron fond of her, but also a little wary. Why was she so protective of him? She didn’t know him at all.

Theron argued against Pearl’s orders that he sit there for the afternoon with his foot up, but she would hear none of it. There was no time to converse or get acquainted. Pearl was chief there on the Extension, and she had more important matters to attend to. Theron felt like a lump there on her couch, watching as she came and went about the house.

The living room looked like any other. Blankets with designs he recognized from his mother’s bedroom when he was a child were tossed over the couch. There was no TV, no picture frames on the wall. Just a tired pair of armchairs and a couch. The wallpaper looked straight out of a 1970’s sitcom, and that was only where it hadn’t peeled off. There were water stains on the ceiling, and the entire house felt hauntingly quiet. He couldn’t quite place why it felt so still, even with Pearl milling about.