He nodded, proud. "You all belong here."
I didn't answer. I just let myself rest.
Maybe the world would crash again tomorrow. Avalanches of drama, new threats. But not right now. Right now, I had found family, a living room full of the best weirdos I'd ever known, and daughters who were more themselves than I'd dared to dream.
Tash
Sunday was weirdlywarm for late December, especially after just having snow, and the creek was swollen from two days of rain and snow melt. I'd told myself that this weekend would be for napping and reading, but I woke restless, nerves humming, and pretty soon it was obvious the only thing to break the mood was packing my field bag and hauling my ass down the hill. Huey watched the whole production as I got ready like a bouncer at a nightclub. He paced the hallway, side-eyeing every move I made, then stuck to my heels as I headed for the door.
Mere was in the kitchen, studying the grimoire Maeve had given her, and Chance and Fifi were outside practicing dragony stuff. It was nice, both of them happy and focused, but that only made the edgesharper for me needing todosomething. If SkyArc's ridiculous camera setup was supposed to keep me from gathering my data, they'd have to try harder.
I didn't want to know what their idea of trying harder was.
I waved at Chance and Fifi as I headed for the hill that sloped down to the creek. Fifi, or Flora, rather, flapped a golden wing back at me. Chance was still in his human skin, so he just waved normally.
For cripes' sake my life had gotten weird.
The grass was beaten down by all the water, mud clinging to my boots with every step. Huey loved it. He bounced ahead, nose glued to the ground, tail flagging every time a scent caught his attention. By the time I got to the creek and started following it, my calves burned, but I made myself keep the pace. I'd gotten away from any sort of exercise routine since moving to Laurel Gap. As soon as the holidays were over and life foundsomesort of normalcy, if that was even going to be possible, I was going to start hiking.
When I finally reached my favorite sampling spot, in full view of the damn cameras put up by SkyArc, I let out a long, shaky breath. The creek behind the Meyer property ran cold and clear, the water high and laced with silt from the recent storm. My goal was simple. Get a sense of runoff, new disturbances,anything that would tip my research toward "smoking gun" rather than "nice to have."
I scanned the edges for cameras. Sure enough, three little globes watched me from the far bank, their plastic backs glinting in the sun. I gave them a sarcastic wave. It wasn't like I could do this in secret anyway.
Huey skirted the water, paws printing loops into the soft earth. He sniffed every rock and plant around me before flopping down, ears swaying gently, eyes never far from the tree line. I set up on a flat, dry rock, brushing aside a carpet of dead leaves, and unpacked my gear.
First thing, wipes, gloves, and a notebook. I used it and the tablet to track data, since the notebook never ran out of charge. I fanned out my tools. Sample bottles lined up like little soldiers, labels ready to go, even the pens color-coded for pH, nitrate, and "miscellaneous shadiness." Old habits, hard to break.
With the way the creek burbled and the air smelled of damp leaves and moss, it should've been peaceful. But something, probably the damn cameras, had me on edge.
Chance's warning echoed in my mind. SkyArc was watching. If they wanted the data gone, they'd do it in a heartbeat. But it was really odd they'd gone to thismuch trouble and expense, even if they planned to sell those cabins for a premium.
Instead of borrowing trouble, I focused on getting my samples and labelling them.
Two samples in, I heard the first crack of brush from upstream.
My stomach flipped. I palmed the Sharpie like a weapon, then dug in my windbreaker pocket. No keys, no mace. The tablet had and my phone had cell service, but it was patchy at best out here. The only reason it worked well at Chance's house was because of his Wi-Fi.
Huey growled, head up, his whole body locked on the sound.
Two men made their way down the embankment. Like me, they were dressed in windbreakers and jeans and work boots coated in mud, hands empty except for a tablet and what might've been a rolled-up site map. William led the way. Sandy hair, mirrored shades, and a friendly smile on his face. His partner trailed him, taller, beefier, with a face locked in permanent frown.
Closer, William's grin belonged in a used car commercial with the announcer saying, "Trust Me, I'm Reasonable."
"Nice day to play in the mud," he called brightly. "Mind if we join the fun?"
I shifted to standing rather than kneeling. "The rivers and streams are public access, but you have to enter the river somewhere else. Right now you're trespassing on Meyer land. You do need to bring your own kits, sorry, I'm not in education." I wasn't actually sure the land was Meyer. The spot in the stream where I'd been sampling was very close to the border. He ignored me, anyway.
He snorted, amused. "Dedication. That's the word. Not many people are workaholics. Most of us relax on Sundays."
His beefy friend drifted to the side, blocking my path back up the hill. It was deliberate, like they'd coordinated the move. The first prickle of nerves crawled up my spine, but I forced myself to keep smiling. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and held down the button on the side. It brought up the option to turn off the phone or call 911. I was ready to hit the emergency call button if I had to.
"Yet here you are. I'm catching runoff after the rain, which sometimes happens outside work hours," I said. "And it happens that I'm done. So I'll be seeing you later."
William made a show of tucking the tablet under one arm. "Actually, we wanted a chat. Keep thingsneighborly, you know? The way I see it, there's no reason to complicate life for any of us."
He drifted closer, boots snapping old sticks. The laconic charm was pure theater. I could almost see him rehearsing in a boardroom.
I considered my options. I could run in several directions, but they were no doubt a lot faster than me. My panic began to spike a bit. "Life's complicated. But my job isn't."
