I throw a hand out and the trees float back up, trunks stitching back together. “Look. I won’t deny I love Kellan. That I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to be with him. That I miss him still. But—”
But that’s the thing. For the last several months, I’ve drowned in how much I miss Jonah. I’ve thought about Kellan, yes, but the pain of losing him has never cut me quite so deeply as Jonah’s. I love Kellan, I’ve thought about what it’d be like to be with him, but I never pulled that trigger. And I think I finally know why.
It’s Will’s turn to look like a cartoon character with eyes ready to explode as the trees right themselves. Some of my anger eases, but not much.
I let out a groan of frustration. “Yes, Will. The trees are me.”
He snaps his fingers. “The laundry detergent! That was you, as well!”
Now I’m flat out humiliated.
A chuckle precedes his finger wagging. “My, my. Somebody has a temper.”
A scream fills the quiet distance. I whirl around and peer through the white behind us. “You better hope I can keep it up.”
He’s instantly by my side. “That thing—the Elder. It’s coming?”
I nod. Still no sighting, though. “Get in your truck and go, Will.”
“Fuck that. I’m staying. Besides, you think I’m going anywhere with a tire a four year old would’ve designed?”
“This isn’t a game!”
“Obviously.” He steps in front of me. “I’m not leaving, so you might as well make me as useful as I can be. What can I do to help? Can you make me anything to fight this thing with?”
Fight? Like . . . hand-to-hand combat? I shudder. Is he forgetting the whole immortal thing?
Will’s hands clamp down on my shoulders. “Whatever it is, it used to be like you. Living, breathing, whatnot. Living things can be hurt. Give me something to work with. If it can smash into my truck, it can hurt if I shoot it or stab it.”
Is he joking? “No. I won’t risk you.”
Another scream fills the air, closer still.
His dark eyes bore down into mine. “I’m not asking. I’m telling. If I have to go get a branch from the woods to beat it, I will. No matter what, I’m staying.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. This goes against my instincts, but . . . “Fine. Fine!” I open my eyes and whip up my favorite bow and arrow set and pass them over to him. And then I make another for me.
He’s amused. “Are we hunting?”
“Big game, my friend,” I tell him. My smile is vicious. “The biggest you’ll ever see.”
Fighting on the open road isn’t going to happen. Not that many vehicles have passed us in the last fifteen minutes, but I can’t risk nons reporting anything going down. I’m already risking enough as it is; I’ll be damned if I leave Will out in the open. I convert our clothes to a waterproof, cold-proof fabric of my own making, plus switch out our footwear for sturdy snow boots and then take off into the woods with Will hot at my heels.
“Do you think it’ll follow?” Will asks. Bastard is barely winded, but the stitch in my side reminds me that months of bowling and hanging out in a diner have done little to keep me in shape.
The screaming swells sporadically, each burst like nails against the chalkboard lining the inside of my skin. But I need the advantage. I need to be the one to take a stand first. And I need to do it in the right spot. So I keep running, the bow bouncing on my back, until we get to a large clearing.
Will stands next to me, surveying our location as I lean over, hands against knees, searching desperately for my breath. “Seems awfully open.” He squints, peering through the trees. A controlled shriek in the distance answers.
“Better open than trapped,” I gasp.
“I’ve been thinking.” He taps his fingers against his thigh. Why is he so calm? He ought to be freaking out. Sane people would be, especially nons who’ve just learned monsters are real. Is that it, though? Is Will truly insane and I just never caught on until now? “I need a sword.”
Yep. Full on INSANE. I straighten, my eyes widening. “Oh, you do, huh?”
“Paul tried to take me hunting once. I was shite at it.”
“And yet, you’re a master swordsman?” I let disbelief coat my words.
He grins. “I’m Scottish. Highlanders have been wielding swords for centuries.”
“You’re from Glasgow. Isn’t that like, sacrilegious or something to call yourself a Highlander when you’re a Lowlander?”
“You’re just being picky now. Would it help if you made me a kilt or something to go along with the sword? Also, why is this taking so long? Do you need to create a forge as well?”
I sigh and hand over a lightweight yet indestructible sword. “Be careful. It’s sharp—”
“Swords normally are.”
I consider it a victory that I don’t bop him on the head with the butt of the sword. “Just keep it away from me.”