Kelley Armstrong - The Gathering

“Get out, Maya! This doesn’t help. It isn’t safe.”

I ignored him. This was safe. This—

Fingers closed around my ankle and yanked me under. I fought, but a hand grabbed my other leg and I kept going down, gulping water as I screamed. I could hear Rafe’s voice, faint and distorted as he shouted, and I could hear the cat screaming, her cries blending with my own.

As the hands pulled me down, I realized what he’d been telling me. Stop running away from the truth. The truth that followed me everywhere, like the cat—

I woke up gasping and sputtering, still feeling icy water filling my lungs. I hacked and coughed until Mom came to my door. I told her not to worry, I was fine—and huddled under the covers until she was convinced.

I threw off the blanket as soon as she was gone and lay there, nightshirt pulled up around my midriff as I panted. Even the remembered chill of the water wasn’t enough to cool me as my heart raced.

A dream. Just a crazy dream, merging the experiences of the night—the cougar and Rafe—with the issue I’d been trying to avoid all day. Serena’s death.

When she died, I told myself I’d find out what happened. In the year since, what had I done? Sat around and grieved, and waited for the answer to drop from the skies.

Her death had been ruled an accident. No one was looking for another explanation. No one wanted to look. Did that include me? Was that what the dream really meant—my conscience telling me to stop hiding from her death and do something about it?

Brendan said Mina Lee had asked about Serena. She must really have checked out Salmon Creek to know a teenager died here last year. If she was investigating the medical research, did she think it had something to do with Serena? That seemed like grasping at straws, but it might mean she’d looked at the circumstances surrounding Serena’s death and seen possibilities no one here had.

I needed to talk to her. I wished I hadn’t given away her card. Still, it wasn’t like she’d refuse to speak to me. I just needed to find out where she was staying. I’m sure Corey could get that from his mother.

With that solved, I relaxed enough to drift off and I stayed asleep until past ten. Even on Sundays I can’t do the sleep-until-noon thing because of the animals. I’m usually up before nine, but my alarm didn’t ring, which meant my dad must have turned it off and fed the animals for me.

I took my time getting up. Although I’d decided what to do about Serena, I hadn’t made any decisions about being dosed last night. I should tell my parents. If anyone else was in my situation, I’d insist on it, badger her until she did, but if I told them and said “I don’t know who did it,” then I couldn’t come back later and accuse Rafe.

But how was I going to decide whether or not to accuse Rafe? Break into his cabin and search for drugs? He wasn’t stupid. He’d have gotten rid of the evidence.

I thought about it while I showered and dressed, and I was still thinking about it when Mom knocked.

“Someone’s here to see you,” she said as she came in.

I hoped it was Daniel—I really needed to talk to him. But Mom wouldn’t call Daniel “someone.”

I remembered what Brendan said about Mina Lee wanting to talk to me. Please let it be her. “Is it a woman?”

“No. It’s the new boy. Rafael.”

Mom said it slowly and had this weird look on her face, kind of concerned, and I wondered if she’d heard that I invited him to the party. I wouldn’t doubt it, the way gossip travels in this town. If she had, then she’d have thought it was just me leading the charge to make the new guy feel welcome. But if he was here on a Sunday morning, maybe it was more than that, and if so, why hadn’t I mentioned him?

All I could think was “Rafe’s here. Oh God, what is he doing here?” My heart pounded and it felt like terror but it felt like excitement, too, and that scared me even more.

“Maya?”

“I suppose it’s about the party.” Which was the truth. “Just give me a sec to brush my hair.”

MOM SAYS THAT WHEN she was little, her grandmother used to brush her hair a hundred strokes to make it shine. Well, if that works, my hair must have been blinding by the time I finally got downstairs.

I wished I was someone who could say “I’m not feeling well” and hide out in my room. But I had to face him.

As I went down those steps, I was angry and confused, and outraged that he’d show up at my house. But it wasn’t anger making my heart race. I kept thinking of the dreams and thinking of last night and thinking of how he’d made me feel. That scared me because I needed to be totally objective about this.

I found Rafe in the living room, looking out the front windows, hands stuffed in his pockets. His hair looked like it’d been finger combed and could probably use a wash. He wore the same clothes as last night.

He didn’t do it. He isn’t guilty .

No, I just didn’t want him to be guilty.

I stepped into the room. His head tilted, as if he’d heard me and he turned. He saw me there and he stepped forward with a spark in his eyes that made my insides flip and an inner voice scream, “I can’t do this!”

The smile disappeared fast, gaze dipping as he mumbled, “Hey.”

“You wanted to talk to me?”

He nodded. “Can we …?” He looked around and I knew he was going to say “Can we go somewhere and talk?” then realized how that would sound, under the circumstances.

“We can step out on the porch,” I said, then called. “Mom? We’re on the back deck. Is Dad out there?”

“Somewhere.”

Rafe nodded. He got the message. When I whistled for Kenjii after we went outside, I was probably overdoing it, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

We sat on the edge of the deck. Kenjii tried positioning herself between us, but that was a bit much so I nudged her down. She sat at my feet, watching Rafe. I almost hoped she’d growl at him or give some sign that she distrusted him. She didn’t.

I was about to speak when a yowl cut me off. Rafe jumped. I looked up to see Fitz in his favorite tree, staring at me, yellow eyes slitted, like I’d been the one who’d put him up there.

“Hold on,” I said.

I walked toward the tree. Seeing Fitz, Rafe swung into my path.

“That’s a lynx,” he said.

“No, it’s a bobcat, and he’s going to keep yowling until I get him out of that tree.”

“Get him out?” Rafe said. “I really don’t think—”

“It’s okay.”

I grabbed the lowest branch and swung up. When I glanced down, Rafe had his hands on the limb, like he was ready to follow.

“Stand back,” I said. “He doesn’t like strangers.”

“So he’s a pet?”

“I don’t keep wild animals.” Which was true.

Rafe stood there, gripping the tree. “Maya, I really don’t think—”

“I’m serious. Unless you like the ripped look for that jacket, get out of the way.”

I shimmied along Fitz’s branch. Rafe climbed onto the bottom limb and stood.

“Maya, seriously. Don’t—”

I grabbed Fitz. He harrumphed, giving me hell for taking so long. I hefted him up, which is not easy with a twenty-pound cat. Then, holding him by the scruff of the neck, I lowered him toward Rafe. Fitz’s three legs shot out, claws extended. He spit and snarled.

Rafe backed up fast. Then he looked at me, crouched on the branch, holding a spitting, three-legged bobcat. And he laughed. Laughed so loud that Fitz let out a chirp of surprise and started struggling. I leaned down as far as I could and dropped him onto Rafe’s branch.

The branch dipped and Rafe nearly went flying.