Cold Spell

and the shoes, and I feel as if I’m withering in front of him. Flannery sighs; Declan takes another long swig from the thermos.

And outside, someone screams.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The boys and Flannery leap to their feet, so in sync that it feels choreographed. I follow them to the tent flap; when it’s raised, there’s chaos. People are screaming, parents are hustling their children toward the center of the camp. I hear shotguns being cocked, people crying and shouting. Ardan and Declan dash from the door of the tent. A man with Declan’s sharp nose and chin tosses him a rifle. There are whistles, and a crowd of men is gathering at the edge of the RVs, staring into the forest, their eyes locked on the trees ahead.

Flannery grabs the shirt of a crying woman who runs past, yanking her around. “Who’s gone?” Flannery shouts at her.

The woman is quivering, eyes wide and filled with tears. “Keelin,” she says. “The little one.”

“Keelin,” says a voice behind me—Callum. “They never take girls her age. She’s too young.”

“Apparently not,” Flannery says, releasing the woman, who stumbles away toward her RV. Callum vanishes back into his tent.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

“Fenris,” Flannery hisses, as if she hates even the word. “Took one of our girls, seems.”

My lips part in surprise. “He could be with them,” I say, ignoring her as my heart rate rises. “Kai could be with them. He might be a wolf now; he won’t know what he’s doing. Flannery, I have to—”

“You have to do nothing,” she answers. “If he’s a wolf, if he’s got a little girl out there, you really want us to go easy on him just because he used to be your boyfriend? And besides. You said Grohkta-Nap took him. Her guards don’t take girls like this. Hers are tame.”

I’m about to respond—though I’m not sure how—when Callum pushes past me and Flannery. He brushes his hair back with one hand and slings a rifle over his shoulder with the other, takes a few steps forward—

“Callum!” Flannery says, and there’s a desperation in her voice that surprises me. He stops, turns back, and looks at her. The eye contact seems to break whatever pain was rising in Flannery’s eyes. She shrugs a little, glancing at the ground. “Bring one back alive, and we’ll add it to the menagerie.”

Callum laughs and shakes his head, but he can’t totally hide the nervousness in his voice. Then he turns, running to the hunting party. Finally, the group moves forward as a single unit, determined, strong. I can’t help but feel a strange twinge of jealousy—when Kai went missing, the cops, my mother, the neighbors—they barely even listened to me. Flannery watches them disappear into the trees; she reaches down and wraps her fingers around her knife enviously as the last one disappears.

“What happens now?” I whisper.

“Well…” Flannery says, turning her head toward the center of camp. The other Travellers are gathered there, children in the center of a circle. They’re all on their knees, and I hear one word louder than the rest— Grohkta-Nap. They pray for her protection, her grace, her will to bring Keelin back. Flannery looks back at me, studying me for a moment, and I find myself hoping we’ll join them. I want to be a part of this. I want to do something to help.

“Follow me,” Flannery says, then turns and sprints away from the others. I follow, swallowing my disappointment. We cut around behind the RV, till the noise from the center of camp gets quieter and quieter. We’re headed toward the trees, and it makes my hands tremble. We come to a stop by the menagerie.

“We should get inside,” I say, panting. “I’ve seen the Fenris, Flannery, and I don’t really want to again.”

“This lot is the best alarm system in the camp,” Flannery says, motioning to her animals. They’re stretched out in the sun, lazily flicking their ears. Their legs are caked with mud from where the snow became water and soaked the ground.

Flannery ducks into Wallace, emerging with a bag of cheap dog food. She empties it into the pens; most of the animals ignore it. Flannery leans over the fox’s pen and extends her fingers toward it; it shies away, making an angry hissing noise at her. She stretches her hand farther, and the animal suddenly lunges, its teeth nearly grazing Flannery’s palm. She yanks her hand back to her chest.

“Did it get you?” I ask, bouncing my eyes between her and the tree line.

“Nah,” Flannery says. “It never does. Keeps trying, though. It’s getting stronger.” The last word rolls off Flannery’s tongue in a voice that sounds like Brigit’s.

“Why not let it go?” I ask in a pleading voice. “All of them. They’re miserable.”

“Because,” Flannery says, looking at the fox a little admirably. “If they can survive me, they can survive anything.”

“I know how they feel,” I mutter.

“You think you know what it is to be trapped, Ginny?” Flannery says, shaking her head as if she pities me. “Who has you locked up?”

“Um, you, for one.”

“Yeah, but really,” Flannery says, rolling her eyes as if I was kidding. “Trust me. These animals and me, we know more about being trapped than you’ll ever know.” She pauses and looks back at the fox. “But one day we’ll be strong enough to bust free.”

I frown, almost uncomfortable with how sane Flannery just sounded. I’m about to speak, but I get cut off— something deep in the forest howls. The animals tense but don’t panic. Flannery’s face becomes hard.

“That far off already…” she says under her breath.

“Do the men that went after them always come back?” I ask, taking a step back, away from the trees.

Flannery chews her lip and looks at me. “Usually.” She pauses, staring at the forest. “Sometimes it’s too late for the girl.”

I nod, wanting to say something, but I can’t find the words. Flannery takes a few steps closer to the trees, her arms to her sides as if she’s approaching a cliff. She closes her eyes, waiting, waiting, daring something to snatch her. When nothing happens, her arms fall, and she shakes her head and turns around, looking irritated. I can’t stop the sigh of relief from escaping my lips.

“If she dies, we’re supposed to be happy for her. Grohkta-Nap wanted it,” she says, giving me a hard look. “And if she lives, we’re supposed to celebrate Grohkta-Nap, too. And if she takes one of our boys to be on her guard, well… then we’re suppose to really celebrate. She always takes the best ones. The most handsome or the most clever or the most talented. Once we saw one of our boys with her, after she’d made him…” She pauses. “Different. He’d forgotten us. Even forgotten how to speak Shelta. But most of the time, we just never see them again.”

“You’re afraid she’ll take Callum,” I realize aloud. Flannery whirls around, eyes flickering dangerously. She yanks her knife from her belt and charges forward. I curl my toes, lock my feet into place, and try not to breathe as she lunges at me. I lift my chin and clench my fists as she holds the blade to my throat.

“It would be an honor for Callum to become one of her guards,” she growls.

“You don’t really think that. You don’t want him to go, to forget you.”

“Shut your mouth, buffer. No one would be angry if I killed you.”

“Why not just marry him?” I choke out, wincing.

Flannery glares at me, pressing so hard that I can’t believe the blade doesn’t draw blood. But then she cusses loudly and pulls the knife away, though she doesn’t sheath it. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are glowing as she turns her gaze to the forest. Another howl; the animals curl into balls now, burying their heads by their haunches. Flannery takes a step toward the trees again.

“It’s complicated,” Flannery says, voice low.

“It seems easy to me. Your mother wants you to get married. You’re in love with him. Does he not—”

“That’s not it,” Flannery cuts me off. “Look, if I marry Callum, or anyone, it’ll be because I want to. Not because it’ll shut my mother up, or because it’s convenient, or because of some stupid tradition. I’m not using love as a means to an end.”