Believe: The Complete Channie Series (186 page)

Jonathan

J
ONATHAN
WOKE
UP
WITH
THE
worst hangover of his life. He recognized the smell and the sounds immediately. It was more intense than he remembered.
Hospital
.

He opened his eyes. The room was dim; but what light there was shot through his brain like an icepick. Jonathan covered his eyes with his left forearm and stretched out his hand, searching for River.

A pair of thin, dry hands enveloped Jonathan’s. “You’re alright, son.”

“Dad?” Jonathan lifted his forearm and blinked, forcing his eyelids open, just a crack. He barely recognized the fragile old man. Franklin’s death had been hard on everyone, but it took a visible toll on Dad, aging him ten years. Turning his charcoal hair to salt and pepper grey. Deepening the lines around his eyes and mouth. Rounding his shoulders.

Jonathan had only been gone a few months, but Dad had aged at least twenty years.

His hair was now completely white, all salt, no pepper. Skin hung from his face and neck in loose folds. Purple bags drooped below his bloodshot eyes.

Dad rocked forward and pressed Jonathan’s hand against his tear-stained cheek. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

Jonathan struggled to sit up, but he was too weak. His voice cracked. “I missed you.”

“I never gave up.” Dad smiled through his tears. “Somehow, I always knew I’d see you again.”

The squeak of rubber-soled shoes on linoleum was the only warning Jonathan got before a doctor and two nurses descended on him and kicked Dad out of the room.

Anxiety dampened Jonathan’s joy. “I came with three other people: a fifteen-year-old boy, a four-year-old boy and a girl, River. Have you seen them?”

The doc shook his head. “I met the young man that rescued you, but he was at least twenty. And there was no one else with him.”

“They
have
to be here.”

“No other poisoning victims were admitted.”

“Poison?”

“Apparently you ate some poisonous berries. The young man that dropped you off said he’d forced you to vomit then treated you with a concoction of burned, crushed animal bones mixed with water. Not my first choice for an antidote, but it probably saved your life.

The image of Shula leaning over him flashed into Jonathan’s mind. His heart raced. The monitor next to his bed beeped faster. He didn’t want a sedative. “My heart rate’s up because I’m worried about my friends and my girlfriend.”

“Mm-hmm.” The doctor continued his examination while the nurses checked the various machines attached to Jonathan’s body.

As soon as they all left, Dad pulled a folded envelope out of his front pocket. “Eli said to give this to you when you woke up.”

Eli?
A cold sweat broke out across Jonathan’s brow as he pinned the envelope against his stomach with his left wrist and tore it open. Reuben was supposed to take them through the mines and bring them to Red Cliff, not Eli.

A note and a check fell out of the envelope when Jonathan shook it. The check was for fifty-thousand dollars; signed by Charles McKnight and made out to Eli Smith. Jonathan handed the check to Dad then unfolded the note.

Don’t tell anyone and don’t come back. I spared you this time. It won’t happen again.

Jonathan crushed the note in his fist. His heart monitor beeped faster until it topped out into a high-pitched alarm.

He dropped the note in his lap and grabbed Dad’s wrist. “I want out of here.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, son.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Four days.”

“Shit!” Jonathan gripped the IV needle between his teeth, but before he could yank it out, Dad grabbed his hand and the back of his head.

“At least let the nurse remove it so you don’t get an infection. You won’t do your mate any good if you’re dead.”

Jonathan released the needle. “Mate?”

“That’s what River is to you, right? Your mate?”

“How did you know?”

Dad sighed, but a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Do you remember the photograph you found in the basement?”

“The one that pissed off Mom?” The one Dad claimed was his first wife.

Dad nodded as he pulled a laminated photo out of his wallet.

“Holy shit. That’s Shula.” All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

Dad’s eyes filled with tears as a grin spread across his face. “You met her?”

Jonathan didn’t want to break Dad’s heart and tell him the love of his life tried to murder his only living son. “Shit, shit,
shit
!”

“Jonathan, please.”

“Eli’s my brother.”

PROPHETIC LULLABY

E
PHRAIM
’
S
S
ONG
(P
ROPHECY
)

L
OOK
TO
the East in your darkest hour

For a humble man to rise to power.

Heavy of heart and body broken,

He carries his grief in a crystal token.

When the white wolf answers the call of fate,

And merges with the son of Ephraim’s mate,

Let all good men know the time is nigh,

And with courage and honor, heed the battle cry.

Many shall suffer because of a few

‘Till Ephraim’s line once more is renewed.

The son of Ephraim unaware of his fate,

Must find and bind his one true mate.

Evil hearts shall tremble with fear

During the Great and Dreadful Year.

But courage and hope fills the righteous heart

When the son of Ephraim’s rein doth start.

Other Books in The Sanctuary Series

F
ULL
L
ENGTH
N
OVELS
A
VAILABLE
ON
Amazon:

River’s Remorse

River’s Revenge

Gabriel’s Gift

Short Story (Included in this anthology):

Down the Rabbit Hole

A
SWEET
,
PRE
-J
OSH
, short story about Channie’s relationship with Hunter.

Channie
bolted upright, smacking her forehead against the pine log above her bed. She groaned and ran her fingers over the wet, sticky lump already forming over her eyebrow. Blood. Yuck. She considered using a healing spell, but with her luck, she’d wind up with more bumps than a hedge-apple.

What time was it, anyway?

Moonlight streamed in through the window, casting long shadows across the braided rug on the floor — which meant it had to be well past midnight. What had startled her awake?

The triplets were cuddled up against Abby’s side like a litter of pups, sound asleep.

The pine tree outside their window swayed back and forth as if rocked by a storm. Something was in that tree.
Plink, plink-plink
. And
something
was tossing pinecones into the loft.

Channie’s heart stopped. She reached out with her magic and felt the presence of another mage. Confident that Momma’s keep-away spells would protect her, Channie probed a little deeper to read his energy field.

He raised his shield and blocked her, but not before Channie sensed his strongest emotions. He was excited and … hopeful? Not exactly what she’d expect from an intruder. And no thief would announce his presence by chucking pine cones through the window. Whoever he was; he wanted to wake her up.

Or
maybe
he wanted to wake up Abby. He could even be the trips’ daddy. The thought spread a grin across Channie’s face. If she could discover that little secret, she’d never have to do dishes again. Only an idiot would pass up such a perfect opportunity for blackmail.

Channie kept to the shadows as she made her way to the window. She had to see his face before he saw hers. The low angle of the moon striped the landscape with bands of light and shadow — perfect cover for lurking.

Fog swirled over the ground and flowed down the hollow like a river of milk. Channie strained her ears but didn’t hear so much as a single cricket. Well, two can play at this game. She picked a pine cone up off the floor and threw it at the tree.

Branches shifted and swayed, but Channie couldn’t see a darn thing.

A dull
thud
drew her gaze to the ground. Whatever had been hiding in the tree was now in the back of Daddy’s old Chevy truck.

That vehicle had been propped up on cement blocks since before Channie was old enough to crawl under it for afternoon naps. All sorts of critters had nested in it over the years, but that was no varmint creeping onto the truck’s cab. Channie craned her neck to get a better look, but all she could see was a vague shape … until he sprang straight at her.

An instinctive burst of defensive magic shot out of Channie’s power-well, surrounding her with a protective wall of energy.

She covered her mouth with both hands to stifle a scream then recognized Hunter Feenie’s mop of honey-blond hair, shining silver-blue in the moonlight. She slid her hands to the base of her throat and lowered her shield.

Hunter grabbed the splintered windowsill, dug his toes into the chinks between the logs and clung to the side of the cabin like a tick on a dog. “Gimme a hand.”

Channie leaned out the window and grabbed the straps of Hunter’s overalls while he adjusted his grip. The scent of pine sap clung to his skin. How long had he been hiding in that tree? Had he been spying on her? Watching her sleep? As soon as Channie was sure he wouldn’t fall into Momma’s protection spells, she let go.

Hunter poked his head inside the loft and flashed a crooked grin at her — as if climbing through her window in the middle of the night was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey, girl.”

Channie folded her arms across her chest. “How the heck did you get past Momma’s protection spells?”

No one but a family member could get within ten feet of the magically enhanced shrubs surrounding the cabin. Not without getting hit with a bolt of pure energy.

Hunter smirked at Channie. “Move over. Let me in.”

“Are you crazy? My folks’ll kill you.”

“Your Daddy’s out runnin’ moonshine with mine. They won’t be back till sunrise. And I ain’t afraid of your momma.”

“Well, I am. What do you want?”

Hunter pulled a sliver out of his palm with his teeth. “Are you gonna let me in or not? I cain’t hang on much longer.”  

“That’s a lie.”

The Feenies had more kids than food so they were all a little skinny, but they were stronger than they looked. They were also ornery and tough as nails. Hunter could hang from her windowsill all night if he had to. But he was making too much noise.

Channie shushed him then whispered, “Meet me at the sycamore tree behind the kitchen garden. And stay outta sight.”

Hunter tucked his knees against his chest then let go with one hand, twisting around so he faced the ground.

“Hunter? What’re you doing?”

He let go and pushed off from the cabin, arching his back, arms and legs spread eagled behind him.

Channie’s heart leapt into her throat. She tried to grab him, but all she got was air. “No!”

Sparks exploded when Hunter hit Momma’s protection spells. But instead of getting fried to a crisp —
he bounced
— skimming across the surface; like a stone skipping across a crawdad pond.

“Wow.” Channie’s jaw dropped.

Hunter used his shield and the energy from the protection spells to propel himself through the air.

He bounced on his belly three times then swung his hips forward and flipped over backwards. He landed feet first on the roof of the Chevy then rebounded into the pine tree.

“Good lord!” How’d he do that?

Hunter dropped from the branches of the still swaying pine tree, waved at her then turned and trotted off.

Channie waited until he disappeared into the shadows then crept down the ladder to the main floor. She took three steps then froze when a floorboard creaked. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed Momma hadn’t heard her.

What was she thinking — sneaking out to meet a boy in the middle of the night? What if Momma woke up and decided to check on the trips and found Channie missing? It’d be better to wake Momma up right now and tell her she was going to the privy so she wouldn’t come looking for her.

She stood outside Momma and Daddy’s bedroom until her heart rate returned to normal, then opened the door.

A stinging spell set Channie’s skin on fire. She cried out and knocked over the potted fern holding the curse, cutting off the flow of magic.

“Enchantment? Is that you? Oh, baby girl, I’m so sorry. I set that spell for your Daddy and fell asleep. What are you doing up in the middle of the night?”

Channie panted until the pain subsided then blinked the tears out of her eyes. “I just wanted to let you know I’m going to use the privy and … it might be awhile.”

“I told you kids to lay off those dried apricots.” Momma sat up and swung her legs out of bed. “I’m all out of slippery elm, but I could brew you some raspberry leaf tea.”

“It’s not that bad.” Channie took a deep breath and focused on calming herself. She’d have a hard time explaining why she was so nervous if Momma decided to scan her. “I didn’t want you to worry about me if you got up and found me missing, that’s all.”

The lie pricked Channie’s conscience but since she’d already been hit with a stinging spell, she figured she’d paid for it in advance.

Momma yawned and tucked her feet back under the covers. “Come get me if you don’t feel better before morning.”

Channie
wished she’d thought this through a little better and thrown a pair of jeans on under her gown or at least brushed the tangles out of her hair. She combed her fingers through the worst of it as she walked towards the privy. When she was certain Momma couldn’t see her, Channie gathered the loose fabric of her gown into her arms and left the path.

Bluestem grass, heavy with dew, tickled the backs of her knees. A mosquito buzzed past her ear. Channie swatted at it then cast a bug-be-gone spell on herself. She should’ve done that before ever stepping outside. Hopefully, the chiggers weren’t out yet. Channie’s legs itched just thinking about it.

When she found Hunter leaning against the sycamore tree, one bare foot propped against the trunk, Channie’s stomach muscles tightened. And it had nothing to do with dried apricots.

Hunter’d grown since the last time she’d seen him. A lot. His shoulders were broader too.

Channie wanted to ask him how he’d learned to bounce across a protection spell on his shield; but he was cocky enough without her acting all googley-eyed.

She let go of her gown and jammed her fists on her hips, trying her best to look annoyed instead of impressed. “What’s so important it couldn’t wait ‘till morning?”

“What happened?” Hunter pushed away from the tree and traced the bruise on Channie’s forehead.

Startled by the tenderness of his touch, Channie turned her head. “It’s nothing. Just a bruise.”

“I thought you were apprenticed to Ms. Wisdom. How come you didn’t heal it?”

“I’m not allowed to use healing magic until I pass my herbology exams.”

“You better get someone to heal it for you soon or it’ll leave a scar.”

This time, when Hunter touched her, Channie held perfectly still. She didn’t even breathe.

He brushed his fingertips across her brow and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you gonna be at Spring Gathering?”

Channie nodded.

Hunter edged closer. He trailed the back of his fingers down Channie’s jaw, leaving behind a path of fire and goosebumps.

Channie’s pulse thundered behind her ears as Hunter leaned in. He whispered her name — her
real
name. “Enchantment.”

She gasped and jerked away from Hunter when she realized her power-name was influencing him. She pulled her magic back inside her body and hoped he hadn’t noticed.

Hunter blinked and shook his head, as if coming out of a trance. He rocked back on his heels and jammed his fists in his pockets.

Most of the time, Channie loved her power-name, and the sound of it on Hunter’s lips warmed her heart. But right now, she didn’t know which was more embarrassing — the fact that she wasn’t in control of it; or that Hunter thought she was trying to enchant him.