Pack Bound, page 3
Soon, he promised, stroking his wolf with a mental hand. For now, let’s go chase Adam.
The wolf growled its agreement.
Pushing forward, he followed Adam down the slope, catching air as he flew over a snow-capped boulder and cut Adam off. He heard Adam’s bark of laughter as his brother tried to push past him; a sound he echoed as he passed the Trickster in a few quick movements, beating him to the queue by a hairsbreadth.
Adam might have been doing this longer, but nobody beat Jason in the chase. And Skylar Collins was about to find out that running only served to sweeten the hunt.
3
Skye hopped off the bus with an exhausted sigh. Limping to the back, she pulled her skis out of the rack. Just as she stepped away, that same strange crawling sensation she’d felt all day crept down her spine. She’d say it was her sixth sense, except her sixth sense was blocked by the repression spell.
She glanced around, trying to find the source.
People were beginning to clear from the bus, trudging through the snow to their lodges, but there was nothing out of the ordinary about that. Nothing to explain why she felt like she was being watched, as she had all day—except for when Adonis had knocked her off her feet. She’d forgotten all about being followed when she’d stared into his incredible blue eyes. Combined with his smoky-chocolate voice, they’d made her forget a hell of a lot. She’d been making her way back to the bus stop at the village when the feeling of being watched had come over her again. But apart from a couple of young guys who were ogling all the girls, nobody was watching her. Must be her imagination.
She shuddered, wishing her imagination would just shut up.
The bus moved off with a puff of exhaust and she headed across the road. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man standing in the shadow of the trees, staring at her.
She swung around, her skis clattering together at the suddenness of the motion and peered directly at the spot where she’d seen the figure.
Nobody was there.
What the hell? She was certain she’d seen someone standing there.
‘Where did he go?’
‘Did you say something?’
She jumped and looked up to see a man smiling down at her curiously. ‘No. Just talking to myself.’ There was something oddly familiar about him, but Skye was certain she’d never seen him before. He held a snowboard under one arm and a small set of skis over the other shoulder. A young boy, locks of sandy hair poking out from under a black helmet, hung off the man’s leg, his forest green eyes watching her with suspicion that seemed out of place for someone his age. He began to pull at the man’s leg, making him stumble sideways.
She knew she probably shouldn’t engage with the boy, but she couldn’t help it. She smiled at him. ‘I think someone wants to get out of the cold. Hot chocolate coming your way?’ she whispered conspiratorially.
The boy flashed a nervy smile. ‘With marshmallows.’
Skye nodded. ‘Mmm. My favourites are the pink ones. I love when they start to melt in the chocolate.’
The little boy’s eyes screwed up. ‘Pink is for girls.’
Skye laughed. ‘Must be why I like them then.’
The little boy turned a pleading face up to the man. ‘Do we have marshmallows, Uncle A?’
‘I’m pretty sure I managed to pack some, Tombo.’
‘You’re the best, Uncle A.’ He hugged his uncle’s leg again. A deep ache settled inside Skye for the things she would never have. She turned her head to surreptitiously wipe at her damp eyes and froze. Her heart thumped in her chest as she fought against mind-numbing fear.
A big, grey, wolf-like dog trotted across where she thought she’d seen the man standing before. Her skis dropped to the ground with a loud clatter. The world swam in front of her eyes as the dog turned to stare at her with yellow eyes.
Back away. Now.
She didn’t need the internal voice to tell her that, but she couldn’t move.
A shiver ran down her spine—much worse than that sensation people blamed on someone walking over their grave. This felt as if death had marked her and was standing behind her with an outstretched hand, waiting to push her into her grave.
She couldn’t breathe. The world began to spin.
‘Are you okay?’ A hand under her elbow stopped her from crashing to the snow. She looked up and saw the man—he and his nephew hadn’t moved away.
‘Did you see that?’
‘See what?’
‘That wolf-like dog. Over there. It was huge.’ She pointed into the deepening gloom.
Nothing was there. There was a faint rustle of movement among the bushes to the left of where the wolf-dog had stood only seconds ago, but the bushes weren’t big enough to hide it.
‘There’s nothing there now.’ He picked up her skis. ‘It must have run away.’
Skye nodded, trying to swallow. Trying to breathe past the constriction of fear in her chest. ‘You’re right. It just gave me a fright. I don’t like dogs very much.’ She shivered again, but made herself let go of the man’s arm, realising she was clutching at it like a crazy person.
‘Here.’ He handed her skis to her. ‘Are you sure you’re fine?’
‘Yes. I just got a fright.’ She took her skis from him. ‘I think I need a big drink.’
‘That sounds like a great idea.’ He looked at her, expectantly.
Was he asking her for a drink? It was nice of him, but even though he was rather nice looking, she certainly didn’t feel the pull towards him she’d felt when Adonis had asked her for a drink an hour or so earlier. There was no temptation to say yes.
She took a step back, wondering how to let him down kindly, when she noticed the little boy jiggling on the spot behind him. ‘You look like you’ve got a little one who’s about to bust.’
He glanced down. ‘Damn, I think you’re right. Come on, Tom.’ He took his nephew’s hand and began to run to the lodge—the same one she was staying at. Maybe that’s where she’d seen him—maybe they’d arrived last night and she’d seen him fleetingly before she and Shelley and Bron had gone out.
Skye threw her skis over her shoulder and crossed the road towards the lodge, limping as her ankle protested the movement. As she passed the bushes where the wolf-dog had disappeared, she peered into them. Nothing was there.
She was definitely going quietly insane. Maybe two drinks would be the thing.
‘Skye!’
She turned. Shelley was racing across the road, having just got off another bus.
‘Hi, Shells. Where’s Bron?’
‘She was chatting up our instructor in the bar.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Felt a bit like a third wheel, so I decided to come home and have a nice cup of tea.’ Piercing Skye with a look, she asked, ‘Why are you limping?’
‘I’m not limping.’
‘Oh, really? So one of your legs has got mysteriously shorter, has it?’
Skye laughed. ‘Okay. I got knocked over on Federation and twisted my ankle a bit.’
‘You had a spill?’
‘No. I got knocked over by a snowboarder. There’s a difference.’
Shelley snorted. ‘Is the offender still alive?’
‘Ha ha. Very funny. He’s fine, by the way. Boarded away and everything, legs still intact.’
‘Yeah. But was his manhood?’
‘I’m not that bad!’
‘You keep telling yourself that.’ Her laughter died. ‘So, when did this happen?’
‘On my last run of Federation. Just past the crest.’
Her friend’s eyebrows disappeared under her bright green woollen ski cap. ‘And I suppose you skied the rest of the way down and then all the way back to the bottom of Burke Street?’
‘What? You wanted me to make a fuss and call ski patrol to come and get me?’
‘That’s exactly what I would have done if it had been me. But then, I’m sensible.’
‘I’m sensible.’ Shelley angled her a look that had Skye shrugging sheepishly. ‘What?”
‘Might as well hit my head against a brick wall as try to get you to look after yourself properly,’ Shelley mumbled.
‘I look after myself. I came home instead of continuing to ski, didn’t I?’
Shelley rolled her eyes then said, ‘Fine. You’re the best at looking after yourself.’
‘Too right.’
She chuckled. ‘Come on. Let’s see the damage.’ Before Skye could protest, she took her skis and trudged ahead to the steps of the lodge. Skye limped after her. By the time she got there, Shelley had gone inside, put the skis away and was back at the door, holding it open.
Skye shook her head. ‘You don’t need to baby me.’
‘I need to do something to you. Now, come in out of the cold and we’ll see what needs to be done with your ankle.’
‘Yes ma’am.’ She snapped a salute.
Shelley laughed. ‘Come on, you idiot.’
Icy fingers crawled up Skye’s spine as she walked into the foyer. She shuddered and turned to look behind her once more.
‘What is it?’ Shelley asked, leaning to look around her.
‘Nothing. I’ve just had a strange feeling all day that someone’s been watching me.’ Shrugging off the crawling sensation, she headed into the drying room, instantly enveloped in the dry heat and the smell of wax, waterproofer and sweat.
‘Maybe your grandmother is scrying for you like my mum used to do to me.’
‘That would be impossible.’ Skye tore her hat from her head and threw it onto the bench. ‘Grandpa was the magic user. Morrigan hates it as much as I do, especially after what happened to Papa.’
Shelley narrowed her eyes. ‘I know I don’t have any magic of my own, but I am Wiccan. I know magic when I feel it. And your grandmother uses magic. Not much. Just a little, but magic all the same—like you do.’
‘Impossible.’ Skye crossed her arms.
Shelley looked up and clenched her hands together before letting them drop with a slap to her side. ‘All right. If you won’t believe that, then could she have sent someone to keep an eye on you?’ Shelley pulled her hat from her head and flipped her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder. ‘I was kind of surprised she let you go away for two weeks without so much as a whimper of protest.’
Skye rolled her eyes at the ceiling and plopped down on the bench. ‘Fudge it all to hell. You’re right. Morrigan just can’t keep her perfect Cantrae nose out of my life. I don’t know what she thinks I might do if she stopped interfering for five minutes.’
‘She’s probably afraid you’re going to hurt yourself.’ Shelley looked pointedly at her ankle.
‘Yeah, right.’
Her friend hung up her jacket, flipping her heavy blonde plait over her shoulder with a dull thump. ‘Stop worrying about your grandmother and let’s get your boots off. I want to see the damage.’ She stood there, hands on hips, her height, flawless skin, hair the colour of golden wheat and eyes the colour of the ocean—so deeply blue they were almost violet—making her look like a Norse goddess.
Sighing at her own inadequacies in the face of such perfection, Skye bent to undo the buckles on her boots with a jerk, the loud snap not enough to assuage the anger seething inside.
The very idea that Morrigan had sent someone to watch her! She yanked off one boot and dropped it with a loud clatter on the floor. But when she tried to jerk the other boot off, she yelped. ‘Shoot and fudge. That hurts.’ Shelley chuckled. ‘What?’
‘I love your way of swearing. It’s all so Disney. You used to swear like a trooper.’
‘Yeah, well, I can hardly swear around the kids. I had to come up with alternatives. And even then I only let rip around you and Bron. Or when I’m angry.’ She looked down at her ankle. ‘Or when I’m hurt. So right now, I’m three for three.’ She tried to pull the boot off again and winced at the stab of pain that shot through her ankle.
‘Let me help.’
Shelley knelt in front of her and slowly edged the boot off her foot. Her ankle throbbed, and not the usual throb of relief after having been strapped into a tight boot all day. She bit her lip as she stood, careful to keep her weight balanced on her other foot as she took off her jacket, hat and gloves, and hung them up. She went to grab her boots, but Shelley had already put them on the boot rack. ‘You don’t have to baby me,’ she said again.
‘And you don’t have to take your anger at Morrigan out on me.’
Skye grimaced an apology. ‘I’m sorry. She just makes me so angry.’ She clenched her hands at her sides, a hot ball tightening in her chest, fingers tingling. ‘I mean, why does she persist in treating me like a child?’ She hobbled out of the drying room and down the stairs, Shelley following close behind. ‘No. Worse. Like I am nothing more than a possession.’
‘I’m sure she doesn’t think that.’
Skye laughed bitterly. ‘You don’t know Morrigan. It’s easy to get charmed by her and miss the fact she can be a right royal bitch.’
Skye shoved the key in the lock of their bunk-room door and pushed it open. She hobbled through, angry that her ankle was so sore, because she sure felt like kicking something. ‘I mean, why have me followed? It’s like she doesn’t think I can be trusted. She makes me so mad.’ Her fingers were burning but she ignored the sensation, too caught up in trying to find a way to explain how her grandmother made her feel.
‘Um, Skye.’
‘I don’t know why she bothers. I mean, she hates me. She always has. Thankfully, she cares about River, but me …’ She shook her head. ‘I’m like the dirt she scrapes off her boots in winter—annoying and easily discarded. Yet even though she hates me, she won’t keep her perfect nose out of my life. Always there. Always harping about my wrong decisions and the fact I should do so much better than I am.’ She wanted to pace but could only manage a pathetic sort of limping hop, which made her temper spike higher. The burn in her fingers got hotter, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the flame of anger in her mind, cauterising her heart at the thought of how little her grandmother truly cared for her. ‘I’m so frustrated and hurt and angry—I feel like I’m going to explode.’
‘Skye. You need to calm down,’ Shelley said forcefully. ‘You need to calm down now.’
‘I don’t want to calm down. I want to go back home and ask Morrigan who the hell she thinks she is. I want her to look at me. To really look at me and—’ Skye turned and for the first time registered the look on Shelley’s face—fear and awe. She glanced down to see what Shelley was staring at.
There was blue flame on her fingertips.
‘No! No, no, no, no, no.’ Fear gripped her throat, cutting off the words tumbling out of her mouth. She hadn’t seen that blue flame erupt from her hands since the night she hurt River when they were ten.
No. This couldn’t happen.
4
‘How are you doing that?’ Shelley took a step towards her.
‘No! Stay away. I can’t control it. I might hurt you.’ The flame flickered with her words and she flinched, but there was no escaping it. The flame was attached to her, coming from her.
‘Skye? Are you okay? Does it hurt?’
She shook her head, trying to think past her horror. ‘It never hurts me. But I don’t understand. Grandpa’s spell is supposed to stop my magic from erupting. I shouldn’t be able to create the flame. I don’t even know how to. How do I make it go away?’ She looked up, hopeful.
Shelley shook her head. ‘Don’t look at me. Besides, I’ve never seen anything like it before.’
‘Oh God! Oh God.’ She looked at the sink and dived for it. Maybe water would help to put it out. She had to get rid of it. She had to get rid of it now.
The flame flickered and then went out as she reached for the tap.
She grasped the edge of the sink, shaking. Darkness edged her vision. For a brief second, she wondered if she might pass out. But the darkness ebbed and in front of her was her pale, frightened face reflected back at her in the mirror.
How could that have happened?
It couldn’t. There was no way she’d just made flame spark from her hands. It was impossible. She must be dreaming. She glanced at Shelley’s reflection. Her friend stared at her with an expression that told Skye it was no dream.
Skye closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see that stunned look on her friend’s face turn to fear. ‘I’m sorry I frightened you. I didn’t mean—’
‘You didn’t frighten me.’
She didn’t sound frightened. Skye opened her eyes. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. I was just concerned you wouldn’t know how to control it. You’ve always been so anti-magic. When did you decide to tap into it?’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Then—how?’
Skye frowned. ‘I don’t know.’ She looked down at her hands again. They were normal; nothing special. Just pale skin with a scattering of freckles across the back, a scar on her pinkie finger and a few chewed-down nails.
‘Did something happen to you today?’
Skye staggered back a couple of steps and sank onto the bed as images of Adonis and the big wolf-dog flashed through her mind. ‘Now that you mention it … when the guy knocked me down on Federation, the voice of the spell barked at me.’
Shelley gasped. ‘Was he a warlock?’
‘No. That’s what was strange. There was no reason for the voice to react like that. He was just a guy.’ Well, he was more than just a guy. She was still uncertain why she’d responded to him like she had. But it was too confusing to share, even with her best friend. ‘The spell voice also barked at me when I got off the bus and thought I saw a big wolf-like dog. The dog stopped, stared at me and then disappeared. But that wasn’t the strangest thing.’
‘A really massive dog staring at you and then disappearing isn’t the strangest thing?’
Skye shook her head, trying not to laugh at her friend’s tone. ‘No. And stop laughing at me. I’m trying to be serious.’
