A long silence followed Tom's last words. Alex kept her eyes down on the beer in her hand, trying not to feel so awkward. She heard Tom move but she didn't look up. A moment later, he handed her a picture. She took it, avoiding eye contact.
It was a photograph of Tom hugging his son, both of them laughing, genuine happiness lighting up their faces. Another man, another life.
"How old is he now?"
"Seven."
"He's a fine boy."
"Yeah, he is."
Alex gave it back to Tom, who put it in his wallet. She moved her eyes around. Okay, enough drama.
"And how did you end this side of the mountains?"
"A green group monitoring packs collared a female in the garthling's current pack, and I've been tracking them on a GPS. I've never seen them cross the mountains, but about a month ago the headed west. I set off after them when they reached the north end of Baker Lake. I'd just caught up with them when the garthling led them to this side of the lake and up Park Creek on Sunday and—what?"
Alex shook her head, managing a tight smile. "Nature calling."
Tom narrowed his eyes, watching her hurry out of the tent, wear her shoes and go out in the rain.
Quiet shadows wrapped around Alex outside the tent. Only the sweet tapping of the rain on the trees. Cold thick drops leaked through the leaves, washing away the last traces of blood on the ground.
Blood. Around. Always close?
She strode past the campfire, nothing but ashes and mud now.
A month...
Claire and her were just back from Montana, straight into the mess of the girl in black carrying the moonflower parasite. Then came Felicity's cobolt. And not a week ago—last Sunday—the ertes attempt to obliterate what was left of the Corban family.
Sunday.
Will Murray's house, surrounded by old trees.. Murray dead, Claire captive of the ertes. And that cold fire burning in her chest, which only a silver blade sinking into the erte's flesh could put out.
She covered her mouth to hold back a cry, her heart hammering her chest.
She could still feel the heat on her face, from the bonfire she and Graham had set to burn the ertes' bodies. She could still feel the satisfaction at watching the flames feeding on her family's murderers.
She looked at the invisible sky up above, felt the rain falling down on her. Whether her eyes were open, it was just the same. There was nothing around but darkness. Cold, imposing. Surrounding her. Cornering her.
She bent over, scared of the cries tearing her chest to pieces. She couldn't let them out. She couldn't afford to cry. That'd give even more room to the darkness closing in on her. And she couldn't let that happen. What would become of Claire if she ever gave in to weakness?
The witch back in Montana and the ertes were but samples of what could happen to her niece if she ever let her guard down.
A sharp, cunning fear squeezed her guts at the thought.
No. She'd never allow it. Any of it.
Never.
Behind her, Tom stood under the rainfly. He saw Alex bend over, her arms folded tight, her head low. He set his jaw and went back into the tent.