Page 4 of Warmongers and Wands
Paid. Which reminded me…
“Cash, check, or trade?” I asked, knowing that the werewolves wouldn’t be paying like Declan had. First, they weren’t the most technologically savvy beings in Accident. Secondly, the cell service on this mountain was total crap. You were lucky to get a faint one bar if you stood on a cliff and held your phone up above your head while on your tip-toes.
“Quarter of beef and a case of apples?” Stanley offered.
I quickly calculated the value in my head. “Throw in some of that salsa you guys traded to Pete and it’s a deal.”
The younger wolf cast a quick glance toward his alpha. Something beyond my ability to detect passed between them and Stanley nodded. “I’ll have someone bring it down the mountain by the end of the month, soon as we get butchering well underway.”
“No hurry.” They’d need all hands, or paws, for harvest and processing their beef and pork, and I’d need to figure out where the hell I was going to put a quarter of meat. Might be time to buy a second freezer.
A quarter of beef for a single woman. Well, a single woman and possibly a dog or a cat. I’d never be able to eat it all. Good thing I had six sisters to share the bounty with.
The two werewolves followed me out to my truck, watching impassively as I loaded my equipment and closed up the back. The sky was black and eerily still. A fat drop of icy rain hit my arm.
“Well, been nice doing business with you fellas,” I lied. It wasn’t that I hated werewolves. They were just weird and getting up and down this mountain of theirs was a pain. “Stanley. Dallas. Later, gators.”
They nodded and grunted in reply and I climbed in the cab of my truck, pulling out of the compound just as the skies opened up.
I hesitated for the briefest of seconds, considering whether I should turn around and ride the storm out in the compound. I really didn’t want to stay there. The truck was in good shape and fully capable of navigating muddy roads. If I took it slow and easy, I’d make it down to the main roads just fine. And if things got too hairy, I’d pull over and just sit it out.
So, I continued, inching my way along the narrow switchbacks, barely able to see the road ahead from the torrential rain. The lightning and thunder had started up again, merged together into a continuous light show and constant crack and rumble of sound. Worried about the sharp curves ahead and my ability to see in this crazy storm, I eased my foot onto the brake pedal.
It went to the floor. The truck kept going. I yanked on the emergency brake, but nothing happened. The truck began to pick up speed, and I frantically ground it into a lower gear, looking for a place to run my vehicle into a bank or even a tree. Crashing my truck was a better option than heading into the steep part of the mountain with no brakes and limited ability to see.
The rumbling grew louder, and I suddenly realized the noise wasn’t from the thunder. My breath caught in my throat as rocks began to hit the truck. I felt the vehicle slide to the left, pushed by the rockslide I couldn’t even see through the pouring rain. In vain, I pumped the brakes and jerked the wheel. The truck tipped and for a fraction of a second, time seemed to be suspended. I thought of my childhood, of reading books under the covers with flashlights in the bedroom I shared with my eldest sister. Getting up early and making pancakes for everyone before we all left for school. Helping Cassie with the wards. Crying out by the boathouse when Mom left, hoping no one would find me and see.
Shit.
I was going to die.
And my greatest concern was that my sisters would be devastated. Especially Cassie. We’d always been so close. I’d never get to hold my nieces and nephews, never get to give the toast at Cassie’s wedding.
I was going to die.
The truck rolled and smashed downward. Glass shattered. I felt as if I were in a rock tumbler, or a rollercoaster gone crazy, flailing about, the seatbelt cutting into my chest. Metal screamed and groaned, and the blackness overtook me while the truck continued to fall.
