“It needs to be away from the city. Far enough that you can’t hear the noise or sense the people. It needs to be quiet but accessible.”
“Hmm. A challenge then. If it exists, I’ll find it.”
It takes another month and two false starts, but no amount of time can change what I need to do.
I finally have something to offer. A stable life. A quiet place.
It’s time to take a leap of faith.
39. PEYTON PRICE
The crisp morning air wafts across the cabin’s porch as I watch the sunrise.
Over the course of the last two months, I’ve filled an entire internal wall of the cabin with books, many from various thrift shops and some from Archer Ryan after she heard I’d started reading.
I’ve even bought myself some new clothes with the money that seems to appear when Hunter visits, usually left in a sneaky place like the cutlery drawer where I won’t find it until after she’s gone.
As the days pass, I sense my former self within myself like a seed I put away in a box a year ago, and now I’m determined to grow. And I’m determined not to keep myself in the shadows.
When the familiarwhooshof helicopter blades breaks the silence, I wait for Hunter to descend, curious when she seems slower than normal.
I’m also curious to see that she carries a large, rectangular box on her back.
“Vulture Woman.” I greet her with a broad smile as she approaches. “Why have you darkened my door?”
She grins back at me as she clambers up the steps, and I suddenly perceive the growing bump in her belly.
“Yes, yes.” She waves her hand, unusually out of breath, as she seeks the wicker chair at the side of the porch, pulling the box off her back before she sits. “Would you believe I’m having twins? That’s the last time I fast-rope out of a helicopter for a while.”
The fact that she’s Valkyrie is still a heavily guarded secret, which means she can’t release her wings in front of the helicopter pilots.
“Let me get you a cup of herbal tea,” I say.
“Thank you.” She accepts it when I return, blowing on the hot liquid and inhaling the warm cinnamon scent with a bright smile. “Oh, it smells like Slade.”
I find a seat in the wicker chair next to hers. “There are cedars in these woods. They remind me of Striker.”
“Perhaps that isn’t a bad thing.” Reaching for the box, she passes it to me. “I have a gift, but it isn’t from me, and I was asked to tell you that it comes with no expectations.”
I take the gift cautiously, expanding my senses to determine the intentions with which it was packed.
Hope. Calm. A slightly rapid heartbeat. Then calm again.
I extend my claw and slip it through the tape along the side, removing the lid to reveal ivory-colored tissue paper.
Beneath it is a black tulle dress. It has a single beaded strap at one shoulder, is fitted through the bodice to a waist wrapped in tulle, and flows to a gently tapered skirt.
An ivory card rests on top of it.
Dear Peyton,
I sense the pause after Striker writes my name, the way he’s holding his breath as he inscribes carefully.
Please do me the honor of attending a small gathering to celebrate
He pauses again. He’s cringing and considering whether to throw the card out and start over, but he continues:
My first home.
