The Calling

NINE

IT WASN’T EASY SETTING out again. We were tired and aching from sleeping on the cold ground. Even Sam complained. Everyone’s jeans were still damp. My sneakers squirted water with every step from sleepwalking into the creek. The clothing that had dried stunk of mildew and felt stiff and scratchy. And we were hungry. I took them back to the creek for washing and drinking. It would keep us alive until we found food. We drank enough to fill our stomachs temporarily, and we headed out.

Once we were walking, I started feeling more myself. I seemed to be establishing a pattern here. Muster my strength and charge forward. Collapse in a puddle of grief and guilt. Charge forward. Collapse again.

I said as much to Daniel and the others chimed in, making mock bets on who would spend the most time in therapy after this, and whether we could get group discounts. The joking was strained, though, and the more we walked, the less we talked.

Eventually we were tramping through the forest in silence. That didn’t really help, because the quiet meant every time we startled an animal and it took off, brush crackling, Corey or Hayley or Sam—sometimes all three—would jump and spin around, their backs to ours, like bison fending off a pack of wolves.

“It’s a rabbit,” I’d say.

“It’s a grouse,” Daniel would say.

We’d both add, “If anything bigger comes near, Kenjii will let us know.”

But it didn’t help. For our friends, the forest—with its sun-dappled groves and majestic, soaring redwoods—was no less terrifying in daylight that it had been last night.

We’d camped near the base of the mountain. Whether it actually qualified as a mountain, I had no idea. But it was tall and it was wide, and it was on our way—which explained why we hadn’t been able to see any lights—so I thought of it as “the mountain.” Seeing it had come as a relief to all, the thought that we might get to the top, look down, and see civilization. Or it did come as a relief, until we realized how long a hike it would be—all of it uphill.

Still, it was our best option. We just needed to go up the side. Which would be fine, if we’d had anything to eat. And if Corey had miraculously healed overnight. He was doing better, but it was a tough haul for him. For all of us.

One good thing about the mountain? It gave us a reference point. If everything was quiet, I could still pick up the distant crash of waves to my left, but the mountain was an even better compass point to keep us going in the right direction.

We slogged uphill for at least two hours. I was guessing at the time. My watch had survived the first dunk after the helicopter crash but not the second one, when I’d been pulled right under. Daniel’s still worked and I think Corey’s did, too, but no one was asking them for the time—no one cared.

When I heard the burble of a stream, I picked my way through a patch of bramble to get to it. Hayley was right behind me, fighting through the branches instead of ducking them. Sam got poked in the eye. When she cursed, Hayley jumped and slipped on a muddy patch. Corey ripped his shirt on thorns helping her up. All three complained, loudly and bitterly.

“We need more water,” Daniel said. “Which means you need to get to it, because we can’t bring it back for you.”

“Well, maybe if Hayley was more careful,” Sam said. “Not letting the branches fling back.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t walking right behind me,” Hayley said. “Why do we need water anyway? We drank before we set out.”

“We need to drink from every stream I can find,” I said. “As I’ve said, dehydration is the biggest risk we face out here.”

“Okay,” Corey said. “But could you find a path without mud and thorns?”

“I’ll make sure the next one’s paved.”

Daniel leaned toward me as we walked. “I bet if we bolted, we could lose them in ten seconds.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I muttered.

He grinned and put out his hand to help me over a muddy patch. I crossed, then called back a warning to the others. Daniel seconded the warning and pointed out the mud. Hayley still slid and fell.

At the stream—a little cascade splashing over a rock ledge—we got a drink. As we were leaving, Hayley said, “I can’t do this,” dropped, pulled up her knees, and buried her face against her legs.

“I’m sorry, guys,” she said, her voice tight. “I just can’t. I’m cold and I’m tired and I’m hungry.”

I crouched beside her. “I know you’re uncomfortable, but we’re okay. Our clothing is dry now and it’s not cold enough for hypothermia. We can survive without food as long as we don’t dehydrate—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Corey snapped. “We’re tired and hungry, and you blather on about hypothermia and dehydration—”

“Hey!” Daniel bore down on Corey. “She keeps talking about hypothermia and dehydration because you guys won’t shut up about being cold and hungry.”

“Well, maybe we don’t need to hear how this isn’t going to kill us,” Corey said. “Maybe we need more than a pep talk.”

“Like what? Sympathy? Right. Because that’s going to get us out of these woods. Maybe you can show a little sympathy yourself under the circumstances and—”

“Enough,” I said. “You’re right, Corey. I’m sorry. I know your knee is hurting. I know everyone’s cold. I know everyone’s tired. I know everyone’s hungry. I know everyone’s worrying about their parents and what’s going on back in Salmon Creek. And we’re thinking about Nic and Rafe and—”

Oh God. My parents. Nicole. Rafe.

I tried to finish, but I couldn’t remember what I’d been saying, and I just stood there with everyone staring at me. Then Daniel was beside me, rubbing away the goose bumps on my arms and Corey was hobbling over, looking like a kicked puppy. He put an arm around my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Hayley echoed him, on her feet again, standing there awkwardly.

I wiped my eyes, and gave Corey a quick embrace before nudging him back. “I should look at your knee.”

“Nah, it’s—”

“I should check it.” I glanced up at him. “Please.”

He nodded, and limped to a boulder to sit.

“I’ll go see if I can find some berries,” Daniel said.

“You won’t and even if you do, eating a little…” I looked around at the others, then back to Daniel. “Sure, that’d be good.”

“No,” Hayley said. “Eating a little will just remind us how hungry we are. There has to be a summer cabin around here somewhere. Everyone leaves food behind. I’d settle for cold beans from a rusted can.”

Corey’s knee looked the same as it had that morning—scabbed over, bruised and tender to the touch. It had to be killing him to walk, but when I asked if he wanted to stay behind, his response was an emphatic no with an edge of panic.

“Can I apologize again for snapping?” he said.

“No.” I sat back on my haunches. “We need to slow down for you. You’re in pain and you’re not going to remind us of that.”

“It isn’t that bad. Really. I—”

“See? Gotta be a tough guy.” I lowered my voice so the others wouldn’t hear. “How’s your head?”

“I didn’t hit my head. Not yet anyway.”

“You know what I mean. Your headaches.”

“I’m fine.” When I opened my mouth to protest, he clapped his hand over it. “I’m not pulling any macho crap, Maya. My head is fine. I’m getting twinges, but it’s nothing I don’t get everyday, even with the meds. I’ll be okay.” He looked around him. “And as soon as we get out of this place, I’ll be even better. So let’s hit the trail.”

The ascent was getting steep, so I decided to hike ahead. The others would follow slowly—we all had to get over this mountain, one way or another.

Someone needed to come with me, for safety’s sake. Daniel would be my first choice, but when Sam volunteered, I took her up on it. I wanted to talk to her. Alone.

I left Kenjii with Daniel, using a length of vine as a leash. She didn’t like that. He didn’t like it much either, until I explained that by keeping her, he could find me as they followed along behind at their own pace.

We picked a landmark, then Sam and I hiked off toward it. It was rough going. Daniel would find an easier route for the others, but I was taking the most direct one, which meant rock climbing. Soon Sam was puffing, red-faced. I found a stream—not much more than a trickle over the rocks—and we drank our fill, then I made her sit on the rocks so we could rest.

“You’d never met your aunt and uncle before your parents died, had you?” I said as we rested.

She shook her head. “Never even heard of them. At the funeral, my parents’ lawyer introduced us. I knew my dad had a couple of sisters, but it freaked me out, no matter how nice the Tillsons were. I tried to run away. Told the lawyer they weren’t really my relatives. Everyone thought I was having a breakdown. The doctor gave me something. The rest was a blur. I expected to wake up locked in a laboratory.”

“Instead you woke up in Salmon Creek. Did you think the Tillsons were really your aunt and uncle?”

“I tried to.” She stood and stretched, then we started walking again, hiking up a steep incline. “Most days I believed it. Even when I didn’t, I figured it was a mix-up and I didn’t want to argue. Mr. and Mrs. Tillson are”—she swallowed—“were great. Really nice to me, no matter how much of a brat I was. Salmon Creek wouldn’t have been my choice of a place to grow up in, but it seemed safe. If I had to be somewhere, I might as well have been in some nowhere Canadian town where the bad guys wouldn’t find me.”

“Only they did. That’s what you thought when Mina Lee started asking questions. That they’d found you. Until you figured out what Daniel is. And by then it was too late to run. You were on the helicopter with us.”

She nodded. Didn’t add anything.

“The book Daniel and I read said there aren’t any more benandanti,” I continued. “It said they were wiped out during the Inquisition. Only they weren’t. They just hid their powers and intermarried with regular people until future generations didn’t have any powers. The benandanti went extinct. Then they were resurrected in an experiment.”

She looked over at me so sharply she bumped into a tree.

“Mina Lee hinted at something like that,” I lied. “With Salmon Creek being a medical research town, I figured any resurrection must be science, not magic. Daniel was born there. You were brought there. They say the town was created to do medical research but…” I shrugged, then continued, “You thought you’d wake up in a laboratory. You did. Just not the kind you expected. I think Salmon Creek is one big petri dish, designed to protect and nurture the first members of an extinct supernatural type.” More than one type. I glanced over at her. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

She paused, and I realized she hadn’t figured all that out.

“You do think there are more in town, right?” I said. “More benandanti?”

“Maybe Corey,” she said. “His parents aren’t Italian, but that doesn’t mean anything. We’re a long way from the Inquisition. There’s been a lot of intermarrying.”

Like my birth mother, who apparently carried the skin-walker gene, but looked Caucasian. I didn’t. I’d inherited my looks from my… I thought of the man in the forest and squeezed my eyes shut. Enough of that.

“Daniel and I thought that the people who started the fire were after the research,” I said. “And we were right. We just didn’t know kids were the research.”

“I guess so.”

“You said your parents were hiding from someone. The researchers? Or someone else?”

She shrugged.

“Did they warn you?”

Shrug.

“They were murdered. Do you think these people were responsible?”

Shrug.

“So that’s how it’s going to be? I share and you don’t?”

“You didn’t share anything. You made connections that might be totally wrong.”

“Maybe I’ve got more.”

She shook her head. “You think you’re smart. Well, maybe you are, but you’re still just a kid who got caught up in something. Daniel and I, we’re the ones they want. I know you’re used to being special, Maya, but for once, you aren’t.”

I’d been about to tell her the truth. As much as I wanted Daniel to be the first to know, it had seemed wiser first to share with someone who’d believe me.

But if I said something now, I’d sound like I was just trying to be “special.” Sam’s about-face, from ally to antagonist, reminded me of my suspicions about her involvement in Serena’s death.

I played back her earlier words. “Mr. and Mrs. Tillson were great.” No mention of Nicole, when I knew Nicole had gone out of her way to make Sam feel welcome.

Someone had pulled Serena under the water and drowned her. Someone had pulled me under, then and now. Someone had pulled Nicole under, too.

Sam hadn’t liked Serena. She hadn’t liked Nicole. Apparently, she didn’t like me much either, no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise.

Who did Sam like? Daniel. Who had been pulled under the water? His girlfriend, his best friend, and a girl who wanted to be his next girlfriend.

“I think you should go back with the others,” I said. “You’re slowing me down.”

A look crossed her face, so fast I couldn’t quite catch it. Then her features hardened.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be? Invite me along because I might tell you something useful? Send me away when I don’t?”

“Sound familiar?”

“What?”

I stepped toward her. “Last night, in the water, I didn’t notice you going to your cousin’s rescue. Or to mine. In fact, when we nearly drowned, I didn’t see you anywhere at all. You popped up afterward.”

Her mouth went slack, before she managed a strangled, “What? Are you—? Wait a minute. I didn’t—”

“You said it yourself. You’re special. You have powers.” I met her gaze. “And we have no idea exactly what those powers are, do we?”

I turned and loped uphill.

It took Sam a moment. Then she shouted, “Maya! Wait! Hold on!”

Brush crackled as she ran after me. “I’m sorry, okay? Just wait and listen to me. I didn’t have anything to do with pulling you under the water. Or Serena, if that’s what you think. I can barely swim. But I might know—”

I heard a crash and a yelp as she tripped. I picked up my pace. By the time she recovered, I was too far away for her to catch me.