“Always sayin’ I’m rude,” Zeus said, looking toward the closed door. “That was rude.”
“You brought it on yourself,” Big Country muttered as he hit the key fob and headed to his truck.
Zeus looked from the truck to Big Country then shifted his gaze toward the forest.
“You head down the mountain on foot if you want to, I’ll be damned if I follow your spry ass down the mountain only to have to walk back up this hefty bitch.”
Cizan must have felt the same because he walked to the truck and got in the passenger seat.
Zeus shed his shirt, pulling a Bowie from the small of his back before the shirt hit the ground. He cocked an eyebrow at Big Country in challenge.
“First to the road wins?” Big Country asked, grinning. Zeus didn’t respond, simply sprinted from the parking area and tore down the mountain ignoring the trail.
“Son of a—” Big Country ran for the truck and leaped in. He gunned the engine, tires spitting dirt and gravel as he sped onto Devil’s Descent, slowing only to wrestle his beast of a truck down the winding narrow trail, riding that motherfucker like a rollercoaster to reach the highway before Zeus. Laughing wildly, he swerved to avoid a massive tree that would’ve put him and Cizan in traction for months.
The shot of adrenaline that followed gave him a moment of crystal clarity. He’d been handling the situation with Lynx and Stormy all wrong. Enticing her with material things, trying to scare her off with threats…that put the onus of responsibility on her. It was Lynx’s desire he had to kill and the only surefire way to do that was to have sex with her first.
Hitting a curve too fast, he fought to not flip his truck, riding on the two left wheels while Cizan braced one hand against the roof and the other against the passenger side door as his side of the truck floated off the ground.
“Yeah, cousin!”Big Country hollered. “I’m fixin’ to bring enough thunder to quiet this motherfuckin’ storm for the rest of her days.”
The truck dropped down on all four tires and Big Country gunned the engine, trying to make up for lost time.
“You do realize it’s not raining?” Cizan said, peering at him with his ghostly white eye.
“Notyet.” He grinned.
But by the time Bubba was done, he’d make Stormy rain her loving down on a scale of biblical proportions.
It was growing dark.
He hated the darkness of this place, but he hated the cold it brought more. It wasn’t the relentless penetrating cold of Ireland, but he was never exposed to the cold for hours on end there as he was here unless he was being punished.
Perched high above the road, he was forced to watch the day draw to a close, to watch shadows merge to form the skin through which darkness clawed, spreading its despair over the earth. Reaching for the large ornate cross dangling from his neck, he squeezed, praying for God to deliver him from this creeping darkness, to find him worthy enough for warmth, for salvation.
His only response was silence. God was forever silent to his requests. It was a hardship he must endure until he was worthy, as the Good Shepherd taught, but he prayed that this sojourn would soon end. He was dirty and starving and dreadfully tired…
He was not like his brothers. He wasn’t strong of mind or body. When he was on the receiving end of discipline, he had not become honed and hardened and focused on the divine lesson, he became a sniveling heap of flesh, huddled in pain, begging for mercy.
Tightening his fingers around the cross until his knuckles showed white, bones threatening to break through parchment-like skin growing thinner by the day. He closed his eyes and begged forgiveness. He was chosen and therefore it was an honor to be given this divine duty; he would not fail because of his undisciplined thoughts.
This is sacrifice, he could hear the Shepherd intone severely:With sacrifice comes the greatest of God’s gifts.
Hearing the echo of a large engine, he looked up and scanned the road. Maybe she was coming back for him. His heart raced at the possibility. He was wrong to have believed that Delilah would allow him to die up here like the vermin that inhabited the woods. He was always so wrong, but one day he would be right, do right.
Cocking his head to the side, he closed his eyes and listened.
Something was definitely coming.
As the roar of the engine grew louder, he determined that the vehicle moving toward his location was more powerful than the car Delilah drove. In his role as watcher, he had begun to learn the difference between trucks and smaller cars. Big engines from less powerful ones.
A truck burst onto the road from the opposite side, surprising him. The vehicle’s tires squealed against the asphalt as it made a tight turn and came to a stop, straddling both lanes as it idled. He knew this truck; it was the most familiar thing he recognized since coming to this place. The driver was a big man, bigger than any he’d ever seen.
Cornelius became light-headed, believing he would faint from fear but he remained alert and aware as floodlights on the truck’s roof lit up the road. The driver angled a massive light toward his side of the road, searching. Somehow the driver knew he was here. Maybe he should walk down and greet the driver, embrace his destiny.
A hand flattened over his forehead, jerking it back as a metal colder than ice pressed against his jugular. Heat now radiated behind Cornelius but did nothing to thaw the terror that had encased his mind. Legs sprouted from each side of Cornelius’s hips as large booted feet planted themselves near his knees.
“Yell out.”
