Dead Willow (13 page)

You will wish to stay longer, and you will think you can. You cannot
.

Annabel had gone over and over it in her mind. She had
not
stayed too long. She had
not
tempted fate. Like a good girl, she had come home after only one night.

And now that one night was curled up snoring in the bed next to her.

There had been no rule about screwing the locals. She might have bent that rule, had it existed, but she had checked; it did not.

Now, she had a big, fat problem. Well, not fat, really. This problem was as brawny and ripped as a lumberjack, but a problem nonetheless.

Gus Evans’ chest rose and fell in a rhythmic wave that pulled her in like a tide, and soon she was breathing with him. She lay back down and draped an arm across him carefully. Wouldn’t do to wake him, not just yet. Annabel had to puzzle some things out first.

He could not be here
.

That was the problem, and part of the attraction. There was always a risk of discovery on her little jaunts delivering fruits and vegetables. Annabel was not unknown to the men of the surrounding towns. For all she knew, they might have gotten together and compared notes, and that was fine with her. She suspected her reviews were on the high side.

Everyone understood the urges. But you never brought one home. Yet, here he was, purring like a kitten on a warm lap. She had obviously made an impression.

The tide had come in that night, too.

Gus was a man who enjoyed the seduction as much as she did. The sly grin he flashed at her when she had come back into the lobby of the
Starlight Motor Inn
had said it all: he had expected her to come back, and he knew what for, but he would pretend that he didn’t. For a little while …

“Did you lose your key, miss?”

It was the classic opening line to a porno movie, and Annabel knew her part.

“Well,” she began innocently, holding up her key card, “when I put the thing in the slot, it doesn’t light up.”

“I can’t believe that you would have a hard time making something light up,” he said, his voice like warm butter.

She went up on her tip-toes and leaned in, her breasts settling on the counter. She had undone her two top buttons. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t need three.

“I normally don’t put it in the slot myself, but I seem to be alone this evening.”

Gus rose from his stool behind the front counter. He set down the magazine he had been reading and stepped closer. His eyes were exactly where she wanted them to be.

“I see,” he said. “Well … we are a full service hotel.”

“I’ve heard that about you,” she lied, looking him up and down.

Gus glanced around the empty lobby. Then, his eyes were back on her. “It is a slow night. I suppose I could check out your … slot … and make sure it lights up.”

At this point, the audience would be humping in their seats.

Gus opened her door. Then, once they were inside, he opened her dress. It fell to the floor effortlessly. It was the only thing she had been wearing.

Gus said nothing about her rough hands, if he had noticed them at all. He said nothing about the dirt that was still buried under what was left of her fingernails. He said nothing. For the next hour, he had made her feel like she was the only woman in the world.

It had been harder saying goodbye to him than any of the others. She had, in fact, never said goodbye. After he had gone back to work, she laid the key card on the night stand, and slipped out. She drove all night, invigorated and … there was something else, but she hadn’t felt it before, so she couldn’t name it. But, it kept her awake all the way to Willow Tree.

Annabel had called in sick to
Morgan Farms
. She had no desire to see the place again … or to see the thing that would replace Paul. They knew she wasn’t sick; they knew it was because of her friend, Paul, and the memories, and that was excuse enough. They would have given her a day or two off anyway, as they would expect her to go to the tree.

These bruises weren’t going to heal themselves.

The bruises.

Gus hadn’t spoken of the bruises last night. Like their first encounter, he had been a man of few words. But, he had also been over every inch of her body, and he had lingered on some of the most grievous parts. Perhaps he was waiting for her to insert an explanation. She never offered.

A woman had to maintain a certain semblance of mystery.

So, he proceeded to feel away her shame and hurt and he never spoke of it. That’s why Annabel feared his waking. She feared what he would say when he finally started to speak.

Sadly, passion could only get them so far.

Gus couldn’t stay here in Willow Tree. It was like straying too far from the tree, or meddling in clan politics; there were just some things you did not do. Smuggling a local into town was right up at the top of the list. She would have to smuggle him out before one of the clans got wind of it or … well, truth was, she didn’t know what the
or
was. She had never heard of this being done. They would probably get creative with her, use her as an example to anyone else contemplating a similar indiscretion.

Damn it! Why did she have to be such a pioneer?

What did she imagine was going to happen here? She had given him her real name and address on the check-in sheet; who does that? She knew how this game was played. You never gave them everything; you always kept a little something for yourself.

“
Mmm …” His slumbering form stirred, and Annabel was out of time.

He rolled into the crook of her arm as he rubbed the sleepers out of his hazel eyes. Long, curly brown hair fell across his face and she brushed it away with her free hand. She was feeling that feeling again, the one she couldn’t name, and she knew she was going to have to get that looked at. Maybe Doc Crispin could give her a pill or a poultice or something to make her stop feeling this way. Except, she didn’t want to stop, and that was really the problem.

He looked at her with a look that said, “I’m going to say something now” and Annabel started to panic. Maybe, she could just kiss him and take his mind off of it. But, how long could she keep doing that? His lips parted and she reached out a hand to -

The front door to her tiny log shack exploded inward. The jamb splintered and peppered them with nails and sharp slivers of wood. The source of the explosion, a giant leather boot, planted itself inside the threshold and suddenly her one-room cabin was filled with clan soldiers in blue.

Gus tried to play the valiant knight and sprang from the bed, naked. He struck the nearest soldier a solid blow, and was rewarded with a rifle butt to the chin. He fell back onto the bed, bloody and dazed, and struggled to right himself. The rifle came up again.

“Stop!” Annabel reached out a hand to intervene, her other hand holding the quilt in front of her. “He doesn’t know!”

The Bellwether hesitated, then lowered his weapon, but his eyes never left
Mr. Starlight Motor Inn
. He turned the business end of the rifle forward just as another soldier entered. He was older, grizzled, and obviously in charge of this welcoming committee. Annabel didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t matter; the Bellwether could only report to one person.

The scraggly-faced buzzard looked around the room until his eyes lit on a pile of clothes in the chair. He snatched them up with a meaty hand and flung them at Gus’ head.

“Cover yourself, boy,” he ordered. Then, he set his sights on Annabel, who shrank behind the quilt. “You as well, young lady. Your presence is requested.”

The old man stomped out of the cabin with a bluster and several of the clan followed. One stayed behind, a rifle cradled in his arms. He planted himself at the foot of the bed, his head turned to the side in a token of privacy. Annabel felt Gus start to raise up, and she put a hand on his shoulder.

“Just do what they say, baby,” she urged him. “We got no choice.”

They huddled at the side of the bed, out of corner of the Bellwether’s sight, and struggled into their clothes. Annabel could see the fear and uncertainty spread across Gus’ face. It was most likely a mirror of her own, and she wished she could find some words of encouragement for him, but she knew where they were going, and who they were going to see.

Annabel had only met with her once.

She had a feeling this meeting would not go as smoothly.

Eunice Pembry looked … older.

It had only been a few days since Annabel had seen the woman. It shouldn’t have mattered if it was a hundred years; it was all the same, and Eunice should have looked the same. She slumped a bit and the crinkles in the corners of her eyes seemed deeper and a little longer. There was a sallowness in her complexion, but that might have been from the lantern light. Perhaps it was an illusion brought on by their proximity to the tree and the rich soil that had swallowed up their feet with the essence of the willow.

Or, perhaps it was Eunice’s disappointment.

Annabel felt like a little child who knew she had done something wrong, but didn’t really understand what it was or why. Everyone seemed disappointed in her. Even the Bellwether soldiers, whom she didn’t know from Adam, were reticent to be in her presence.

And Eunice … she looked at Annabel like the prodigal daughter who had run off to the city to squander her inheritance and then had slunk back home under the cover of darkness. There would be no celebration, no fatted calf tonight. Annabel didn’t expect a party, but they could’ve just left her alone … with Gus.

They had covered both their heads when they had taken them away. She thought it overly dramatic, as she knew every inch of this town, its feels and smells. Before they had set foot in the soil, she had known they were headed for the tree.

To everyone in Willow Tree, the tree was home. They all had free access to the soil and the roots of the cemetery, and each resident had their special place. The bonding was encouraged, and even enforced. It should have felt like slipping your foot into a warm sock.

But, when the truck had turned onto the gravel path leading to the north gate, dread came down on her like a cold rain. When they walked her into the soil and took off her hood, she knew why.

The second truck, which carried Gus, must have been right behind them. When they slipped the bag from her head, she saw him standing in the soil, his head still covered. He was trembling and whimpering like a lost puppy. This drama was all for her benefit.

Annabel looked from him to the guard … and then to Eunice. Like the rest of them, Eunice was up to her ankles in the black dirt, and that meant that now, Eunice spoke for the tree. She was the only one who ever spoke for the tree. Annabel chose her words wisely.

“Why have you brought him here?”

The Bellwether soldiers detected the note of disrespect and closed in. Eunice raised a hand and they froze, quivering electrically, like wild dogs straining at the leash. Eunice glared at Annabel, but their eyes never met. One never looked directly into the gaze of the tree.

“When you brought him into your bed, you brought him to me. Now, he is of us.”

Annabel caught her meaning like a cold knife to the chest. The sensation was prophetic in its impact.

“But … you can’t … I mean, we don’t …” she babbled, knowing it was pointless to question the tree. It could do what it liked. “Please …”

“We will sample the man. He will be of us.”

“But, he’s innocent! You can’t -”

“Not us,” Eunice interrupted. “You.”

A Bellwether lurched forward and Annabel, caught off guard, staggered back. The soldier stopped inches from her and reached beneath his coat. Releasing a knife from its scabbard, he drew it out and held it for Annabel to take. She stared at it, unbelieving, until he took her hand and wrapped her fingers around the handle. He stepped back out of reach of the blade.

“We will sample the man,” repeated the Eunice puppet.

Annabel gazed at the knife in her hand, and considered her options. She had no experience with a blade, other than opening boxes and buttering her toast. At best, she could drive the knife into Eunice, and what would that accomplish? Another would take her place, and the Bellwether would feed Annabel to the soil. They meant to sample Gus, and they expected her to do the honors.

“A blood-letting will suffice?” she asked the Eunice-thing.

“We will sample the man.” It was nothing if not consistent.

Annabel walked in the soft soil and stood before Gus, trying to calm him with her voice.

“Hey, baby,” she purred soothingly. “You okay?”

He seemed to slow his trembling at the sound of her mellow voice. “What’s going on? What’re they gonna do to me?”

She rubbed her hands up and down his arms, which were strained behind him and bound with thick rope. She could try to cut the rope, she thought, but they would both be dead before a fiber hit the ground.