A Feral Darkness Part 12

The next day at work Brenna posted help wanted signs on all the grooming area and store entrances, and stored a pile of applications beneath the grooming counter. She submitted an ad to Roger, who for once had goals that coincided with hersa"get a new groomer, and get one fast. It would not, she knew, be as easy as he thought. They'd get applicants who thought that "likes to work with dogs," was adequate preparation for the exacting and demanding work of grooming, and far too few people who'd actually been through any sort of vocational schooling.

At least they had DeNisea"short, round, cheerful smile, and the darkest skin Brenna had ever seena"five days a week, and she was picking up the details of her job quickly. She'd even made herself a small step stool so her elbows didn't bang the insides of the tub, which Brenna viewed as a relieving sign of both her initiative and her intent to stay with the work.

Before she left the store, Brenna found a red marker and penned a bold reminder to all of them. Get Customer Rabies Info! it said, and she underlined it before taping it to the back edge of the counter where the customers couldn't see it. And practice what you preach, she told herself, locking up her equipment for the day. Far too easy to grab a walk-in nail-clipping client without question, especially during the rush periods.

On the way home she pulled into the church parking lot, and stared at the church for a while. The day had turned balmy for early Maya"shirtsleeve weather, with the interior of the truck too warm to sit in the sun for long. Just long enough to look at the unimposing exterior of the churcha"not even a bell tower, and the stained gla.s.s was at the back of the buildinga"and decide against going in. The pastor might be there, and before she spoke to him again, she wanted to have found some answers of her own.

This wasn't the place to look for them.

The spring. That's where she'd go. Where she could think.

Of course she took Druid, and the rifle to boot. Gossip about the feral dogs was dying down, although at work today she'd heard more talk from people wanting to link them to the rabies despite the utter lack of evidence. Masera, she realized, was righta"regardless of the warnings, regardless of what had happened to Sunny, no one had ever seen a member of the oft-discussed pack.

But something was out here. Something had ripped Sunny from her collar. And while Brenna was no longer certain it was anything that could be stopped by a rifle, she had a grim appreciation of the weapon's heft in her hand.

What did you do? Masera had demanded, making it crystal clear that the darkness had touched him as well, that he recognized, somehow, something special about her place by the spring. The Mars Nodens place. The place of power.

What had she done? Nothing in that magazine article, so long ago, had hinted that Mars Nodens had a darker side. Maybe it was something else. Maybe her actions as a young girl had nothing to do with the things that were happening to her now.

Which brought her right back to where she'd started these thoughts, to why she felt so driven to visit the spring in the first place. How could she believe both in her one G.o.d and in the existence of Mars Nodens?

One thing she knew. She'd never figure out the nature of the darkness while she struggled over how to acknowledge its existence. Or if she even believed in anything other than her own internal faltering. Maybe she ought to be calling her doctor, not camping out by a spring.

But Masera felt it too.

If she was crazy, then he was crazy.

Given how little she trusted him right now, she didn't find the thought particularly rea.s.suring.

She sat with Druid on the side of the hill for a while, taking him up as close to the spring as she could without triggering him and enjoying the warmth of the lowering sun. Not particularly thinking about anything, but taking advantage of the way the babble of creek water filled her mind so she could stop thinking. Early T-shirt weather, all right, despite the bright red hooded sweatshirt dumped carelessly on the ground beside her. And then, because it seemed right and because she so seldom did so, she pulled the hair bands off her doubled braid and finger-combed her hair so it settled over both her and Druid, a procedure he found interesting enough to take his mind off the close proximity of the spring. He sniffed it thoroughly and got strands of it caught in his whiskers, and ended up giving a mighty sneeze. When she laughed, he looked up with a doggy smile, panting as his black coat soaked up the sun, the corners of his mouth relaxed and happy. It was then she decided not to take him any closer to the spring. Not tonight. They both needed a happy moment, and they'd found one. No point in ruining it.

She took him downhill, instead, and tied him off to a tree so she could visit the spring herself. "I bet you'd do a grand sit-stay," she said at his affronted expression, "but I don't want to worry about you right now."

Back up the hill, as always, she paused by the grave site. "h.e.l.lo, old hound," she said, still full of affection every time she spoke to his memory. "Watch for me these days, will you?" He would, if he were here. He'd be sitting at the crest of the hill, under the oak, scanning the pasture. "And you," she said to Sunny's collar, feeling a sudden fierce ache in her throat. "I miss you more than either of us would have expected, I think. I'm still not sure what happened, but I haven't given up trying to figure it out."

She turned to the spring, sweeping her hair around and into the lap she created by kneeling. "And you," she said, more quietly, all the tenderness gone from her voice. "I don't know what's going on here, but I wish you'd give me some clue. Whoever you are. There's no need to be so d.a.m.n mysterious, pardon my language. I need all the help I can geta"" Shoot, if it could even help her figure out Masera. "And right now, you're just making it worse." And then, deciding that maybe she'd gone over the line with that one, she added, "Well, it feels like you're making it worse. I suppose I should allow for some all-knowing plan."

No wonder she hadn't gone into the church. This wasn't a conversation she could have there.

The last time she'd muttered at this spring, an unexpected wave of . . . something had washed through her, practically taking her off her feet. This time, she half hoped for some similar response, but there was nothing, so she sat a few more moments, then leaned forward to brush away the several dull-rusty leaves that had settled in the spring area since the last time she'd visited. Nothing.

Well, she supposed if a being of power got too predictable, people would start taking it for granted. Couldn't have that.

Druid gave a sharp bark, jolting Brenna from her thoughtsa"and then another, sounding like less of a statement and more of a warning. Brenna twisted around to scan the pasture. Her property, her special place. She didn't know why it felt like it had somehow become a community meeting hall.

Rob Parker, heading for the footbridge. She'd rather he stayed on the other side of the creek. But he didn't, and Druid moved out to stand, as best he could while tied, between the two humans.

His own human came down the hill with rifle in one hand, the sweatshirt in the other, suddenly realizing she'd worn one of her older, tighter T-shirts, the pink one with the bold flowers across the front and the tear and flap right about over her belly b.u.t.ton. A shirt that would not survive her mother's next cleaning sweep though the old farmhouse that still had Rhona's name on the papers.

Not unless Brenna hid it again.

And the other human, of a size with Brenna and in the same jeans and T-shirt, but bulkier, more muscled. Male. With his cigarette burning at the corner of his mouth, and his strides loose and casual as if Brenna weren't watching his every step, and as if the Cardigan's low growl hadn't become a constant grumble.

Brenna loosed the leash and then without thinkinga"something she'd never have consciously opted to doa"she unhooked the snap and let Druid go free. So he could get away if he needed to, she realized, and then couldn't find a way to make the impulse make much sense. Too much time spent letting your mind empty itself into that spring.

"Haven't seen you for a bit," Parker said.

"It's my busy season," Brenna said, opting for distantly cordial.

"Never seen you at all with your hair down."

So that's the only language he could speak. Probably thought he could get away with anything, if he threw the right combination of attractive grinsa"and they werea"and offhand charm in her direction. She could speak that language, too. She could even say no in it. She held her hair out from her side and let the thick handful of hair slide from her grasp bit by bit. "Then take a look. Be a while before it happens again, I'd say." Making a point. It's not for you.

He pretty much ignored her unspoken meaning, but mused onward. "I didn't know it would draw me up here like this."

She gave him a sharp look. "What, my hair?" she said, letting her hand fall abruptly back to her side.

He snorted, shook his head; his eyes were on the hill. "This area. Toby spoke of it, in his letters from boot camp. I swear, it's half the reason he went AWOL. And Gary never would come join me in Marysville, making Hondas for d.a.m.n fine wages. Had to stay here, he said. Just had to. I understand, now. . . . Now that it's my turn. Poor Toby never had a chance to figure it out, and Gary barely got it. But me, I understand."

"Can't say as I do," Brenna said, letting her hands fall to the flare of her hips. "Or how you think this kind of thing worksa"you come on to my place anytime you want, but don't seem to think that sort of neighborly treatment goes both ways."

He jerked his head away from the hillside and looked at her, looked close. Her and the gun and her hair and the expression on her face. "It was you back a couple of days ago, that Clay scared off my folks' old place."

And Brenna finally put the timing together, realizing just when Parker and his two boy pals had first found themselves this spring. The year her father died. The year it took days to repair the damaged fences, stomp down the gouged turf, remove the pitiful rabbit from the skewer on which it had died . . . she'd even washed down the area, carting buckets to sluice down what she'd considered the defiled area. "It was you," she said, "you, back years ago, who tore this place up like a battleground."

"Ah," he said, looking caught but not concerned, and ducking his head in a calculated way. "I was younger then. Wilder. Boys will be boys and all that."

"That's a miserable excuse," Brenna said, biting off the words.

"It is. But it's the only one I've got." He looked right at her, the gold glinting in his mustache, his mouth just touching a smile at either side, an expression he no doubt counted on to charm women.

It might have, had she met him in the street. Had she not started to see beneath those effective mannerisms. "It makes me think twice about having you on my land. Especially after the treatment I got from your friend."

"Didn't make a good impression, huh? He's zealous. I tell him, 'Let me know who comes around,' and he twists it into, 'Don't let anyone come around.' It's so run-down, is all. Once we get the place fixed up, there'll be something there worth your time to see." And he smiled again, lowering the cigarette to his side and flicking it with his ring finger, dropping ash.

Brenna was not charmed. But she wasn't as angry any more, and for that she supposed she'd have to count herself as successfully manipulated. Besides, it was evident enough that he didn't intend to let himself be drawn into an argument. "No," she said, "he didn't make a good impression. So you blame it on him that I'm giving you the boot, just like he gave me. When you're ready for the casual att.i.tude about property lines to go both ways, you let me know." She nodded behind him. Time to go back where you came from.

His dismay seemed real enough. "Brenna, honey, let's talk about thisa""

Brenna, honey? She dropped the fists from her hips and picked up the rifle that had been leaning against her leg. Not with purpose; she kept it pointed well at the ground. But it made its point. "Women hate that, Rob. That honey stuff. They really hate that. Keep it in mind the next time you want to get your way."

He gave her a hard look through the gathering twilight. "Real ballbreaker, aren't you?" Druid barked sharply, skittering sideways, and then trotted off toward the house in a purposeful way, hesitating once to look at Brenna and then making up his mind for good. He'd have triggered if he'd been on a leash, she realizeda"a quick thought that didn't distract her from Parker's expression, or the way he said, "I've got other means to get my way." He let that sink in a moment, exhaling slow smoke through his nose, and added, "If I want to," leaving her to take the implication that if she was smart, she'd stay on his good side. Keep him feeling benevolent about her.

Brenna didn't feel particularly smart. "Whatever," she said, as unimpressed as she could be, wondering if he could spot her heart beating right through the tight T-shirt. Not likely, not in this light. "But right now, you're leaving."

He shrugged elaborately, flicked the cigarette again. Waited just long enough so Brenna wondered if he would go at all, if he was so willing to scorn her authority on her own land. To her face, anyway, because she was certain he'd be back when he thought he could get away with it. She forced herself to stand still, to look unconcerned.

Not to shift her grip on the rifle the way her hand itched to do.

After a moment, he flicked his cigarette to the ground and toed it down flat. And left, sauntering off with as much a.s.surance as he'd had when he arrived.

Brenna waited until he was out of sight. Sam had warned her, that day at Emily's, to stay clear of Parker. Now she knew why.

Or maybe not precisely why, but at least the flavor of it. The specifics were as much a mystery as anything else in her life right now. She didn't know what Parker was up to at the barn, and she didn't know what he'd meant by other means. He could get what he wanted from her simply by coming around when she wasn't here. What was the point of threatening beyond that point?

Because he could.

Brenna climbed the hill and sat under the oak until the sun was down and only the barest hint of twilight remained. Watching the pasturea"and wondering if Parker would be so bold as to come back that very night.

Wondering, too, what drew him to the spring so strongly in the first place. It wasn't his dog buried under those stones. Wasn't his family's land, the place where he'd grown up and the very hills where he'd found his first stray, trained his first dog, felt the first stirrings of an innate ability to interact with dogs on their own level. Those were all her claims to this spot.

All Parker had was one wild night of carousing, destruction, and a nostalgic memory of two dead friends.

Didn't seem like that was enough.

She stood, wiping off the seat of her jeans with a hand that was still sore and stiffening up from the day's work. She gave it the sweatshirt to hold and carried the rifle in the other, double-checking that the safety was on for her walk in the new-moon darkness.

Not that she didn't know where she was going, or had any concern for getting there. She knew this land day or night, and as nights went, this one wasn't as black as some. She was more worried about Druid than about her navigation. Unlike Sunny, he wasn't used to roaming the property on his own, or even hanging around the house. She didn't even know if he had a good sense of direction. Some dogs that hadn't been out on their own didn't, and he'd already proven he was perfectly capable of losing his way. So it was Druid that her eyes strained to find as she returned to the housea"some glimpse of his white muzzle and blaze or the waving white tip of his tail and four st.u.r.dy, well-boned legs flashing along in his trot.

What she found, as she slipped through the barn gate and rounded the corner of the barn to the driveway, was the pale hulk of Masera's SUV sitting in her driveway.

She stopped short, rapidly cycling through reactions. From s.h.i.t! and annoyance through sudden, overwhelming fatigue and straight through to a resigned place where she didn't really care why he was there or what he wanted. She was ready for a bowl of popcorn and a few chapters of her book followed by plenty of sleep before another day of grooming.

Settled within herself, she came around the SUV and discovered Masera sitting on her porch, Druid at his side. She walked slowly up to the porch and stopped some feet away, just standing there, waiting. He was the one who'd shown up at her placea"againa"without invitation. Let him take the burden of any conversation.

He didn't, not at first. At first he simply looked at her, making her suddenly aware of herself from the outside in. The chill of the April air across the exposed strip of skin at her navel, the waterfall feel of her hair against her back and swirling behind her knees. Because, abruptly, she knew that's just what he was looking ata"staring at, his gaze as tangible as the cold breeze that brought gooseb.u.mps up on her arms.

He stood, and took a couple of swift steps to stop short only inches from her, close enough to block the breeze, for her to feel the warmth of his body replace it.

That was when her world swirled and she knew Sammi had been right, that day in the break room a month ago. Whatever Masera thought about grooming and groomers, whatever else he was up to . . . right now, he wanted. Enough to forget why he'd come here, to forget that she'd never welcomed him, to forget that they'd last parted ways on hard terms.

Not things Brenna could ignore. Nor could she ignore the tension between them, or the way his hand drifted up to her hair by her neck, hovering but not touching.

The way she could feel it anyway.

So she took control. She ended the moment, looking up and into his eyes as she lingered over a single word. "Iban."

It startled him just as much as she'd meant it to. Enough so his hand fell away and he stared at her with all his intensity fled. She waited for his anger.

He laughed.

A guffaw, reallya"short and genuine. And then he backed up and made himself at home on her front porch step. "Brenna Lynn," he said, but even in the darkness she caught the quirk of his mouth.

"Iban," she said again, this time as an acknowledgment. And a demand, which he caught. How do you know what you know?

"Roger's not careful with his files," Masera said, and now his subtle inflections made sense to her; they fit onto Eztebe's like a shadow template. "I was hunting for something else, I ran across yours, I peeked."

Brenna crossed her arms, silent. Not quite a demand, but certainly expectant. It sounded too much like just enough truth to get by.

He got the point, shrugged, and said, "I was hunting for something else. But I didn't know it wasn't in your file until I looked there." Fessing up, yes. Looking guilty, no. He'd been checking her out. And had he been checking her out, somehow, that day he'd come to the tub room to wash the Westie?

"Oh, I do feel better," Brenna said, suddenly sure of it. "Not only do you sneak around behind my back, you sneak around behind Roger's. That certainly makes it all right."

He winced. "Brennaa""

"I could say I never even asked you to call me that, but Ms. Fallon doesn't suit me as well so you might as well."

"Do you suppose you could put that rifle up?" he asked, and that made her smile, because they both knew he was in no danger whatsoever. From the rifle.

"If I want to hit youa""

"a"again," he quickly interposed.

"If I want to hit you again," though she recalled it as more of a shove, "I wouldn't use my grandfather's .22."

"No, you'd do fine with your own two fists," he said. "Or more likely your wits. Roger really has no idea what he's up against."

Brenna pumped the chamber open and left it that way, empty, and reached beyond him to lean the rifle in a temporary resting spot on the porch. She snorted at the thought of her manager and said, "I think he knows well enough by now. He just tolerates me because I run a good grooming room, and it's hard to find anyone with that much experience who doesn't already have their own shop. I'm sure you saw plenty of remarks in my file."

"I saw enough to know that the reason you run a good grooming room is that you won't back down to him." He watched as she knelt to hug Druid; the dog's tail wagged wildly, and he rubbed his cheek on her leg. Claiming her, and "purring" as only a dog can purr, with deep breathing patterns verging on happy groans. He waited until she'd finished murmuring to him before adding, "I don't understand why you don't have your owna""

As if she wanted to talk about that. "It doesn't matter. It's not why you're here, is it?" She gave Druid an abrupt final pat and stood, aware that the dog continued to lean against her leg in a sprawling sit, watching Masera just as much as she did. "To talk about my work?"

Silence. A long silence.

"No," he said. "It's not. I came for myself, I suppose. To try to understand what's going on herea"and there is something. With the spring, the lane . . . maybe even your dog. Not this one, though there's no particular reason to leave him out, not with the way he acts."

"You were only here for one night," Brenna said. "What do you know about what's going on here?"

"What I observed in that one night. And morning."

"Hard to believe you could observe anything in the morning," she said pointedly.

"You'd be surprised."

Druid shifted against her and did a whisker inspection of her leg. Up as far as he could reach, down all the way to where her ankle met sneaker. He never kissed or licked, but the frequency of his whisker inspections was high. And this time, as often, he whined softly under his breath. Talking to himself.

"No," Masera said, watching Druid inspect and whine, "there's definitely no reason to leave him out."

"I have to wonder if you're really here because you want to pump me for information about Rob Parker, and you think I won't notice."

After a moment of looking away from her, Masera said, "Rob Parker is another conversation."

"Maybe." Brenna shrugged, found that her hair was no longer enough to keep her warm, and drew her sweatshirt on, tugging the sleeves up to leave her hands free. They fell down again a moment later, of course. One of Russell's hand-me-downs, this one was. If she wanted to, she could withdraw her hands inside the sleeves altogether and let them flop around at the ends of her arms.

Sometimes, entertaining Sunny, she'd done that. This time, she shoved the sleeves back up again. "Maybe," she said again. "Though considering how interested Parker is in my spring, maybe not."

"Is he?" Masera said, surprised. He rubbed his index finger against the bridge of his nose, thena"carefullya"his eyes. "Extended-wear contacts," he said wearily. "Don't mess with 'em."