Outcast, page 16
What felt remarkably refreshing was not having Draven or Beatrice nearby. He was free, and although he knew his assignment through and through, he was alone. Alone, both physically and mentally.
The plane ride was quiet, and — per Leif’s request — the pilot known as Simon kept to himself the entire flight. He planned to stay at the airport until Leif concluded his mission.
Cushy job, thought Leif.
It was midday, and Leif limited his speed to that of a human as he walked through the city. Once he reached the outskirts, he planned to utilize his superhuman speed to get him to where the hacker Philip claimed Slegr Ranch resided. As for the word island, his map showed a handful of small lakes close to Lubbock, but none of them contained any islands. If there was a school within the grounds of the ranch, then the The Island was definitely a metaphorical title. But Leif still wondered if Director Slegr had any real connection to Slegr Ranch.
Leif found himself walking through a residential area — an older part of the city by the looks of the small ramblers and cottages lining the street. Thick-trunked trees symmetrically lined the sidewalks, and he took comfort in the shade their leaves provided. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
“You okay, son?” an elderly man called out to him. Dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, he was leaning against a shovel that was lodged in the grass next to a thick tree stump. Was the frail old man trying to dig the tree remnants out of the ground all by himself with just a small shovel? Leif had a sudden desire to help him. After having lifted an entire car with relative ease, Leif wondered if he could simply tear the old stump out of the ground. He withheld himself. Leif would be better off not drawing attention to his superhuman powers.
Leif wasn’t used to anybody asking how he was doing, and he forced a smile. “Yeah. Just… you know, soaking up the sun.” Even though he was standing in the shade.
Smooth, Leif, he chided himself.
“It’s a nice summer day,” the old man replied. “This time of year, the earth’s on a tilt, which pushes the sun’s rays close all tight like.” He held the shovel handle close to his chest as he drew his fingers together.
Leif didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t here for a lesson on the science of summer.
“I reckon some fresh air will do you some good. You look a bit pale,” the old man said with a southern drawl. “Like a sickness has taken your gut.”
Leif chuckled nervously. “I’m quite alright. But thanks for your concern.” He was about to move on, eager to get on with his mission. At the same time, the friendly old man appeared to have been a resident for quite some time. Perhaps he was familiar with the Slegrs?
“Actually, I’m new to Lubbock,” he said, forcing another smile.
The man looked him up and down, then said, “Course you are. You talk as proper as an Englishman. Besides, I’ve lived here my whole life and I ain’t ever seen your face before. Where’re you headed?”
Leif pointed eastward. “I heard about a ranch I wouldn’t mind visiting. Are you familiar with Slegr Ranch?”
“Of course,” replied the man. “Everyone around these parts knows about the Slegr fire farm.”
Unfamiliar with the term, Leif gave him a confused look.
“The flame fields?”
Leif shook his head, even more confused.
“The conflagration plantation?”
Holding his hand up, Leif contained his annoyance and said, “Will you just… tell me in simpler words what you’re trying to say?”
The old man scratched at his thin, gray hair. “You really are an out-of-towner, ain’t you? Very well, then. What I mean is, the Slegr’s ranch is a barren zone. The government pays them money not to grow vittles on their farm.”
Leif raised an eyebrow. The ranch was a place where plants weren’t allowed to grow? What kind of sick plot was that? And if it really was a barren area, and nobody wanted to visit, it would make a very convenient place to hide a certain school…
“Say, why are you wanting to go out to that wasteland, anyhow?” the man asked, picking the shovel up and slamming it back down into one of the thick, dead roots. “There’s nothing but ash and dirt to find.”
Because there’s possibly a multitude of shifters hiding out there. Leif almost just let it spill. But most of the world was unaware of the very existence of shifters and vampires. There was no sense in opening that particular door to this man, especially in his old age.
Looking eastward, he said, “I’ve heard a rumor that something of interest might be out there.”
Leif felt the old man’s eyes on him, causing him to shift his feet uncomfortably.
“You’re one of them treasure hunters, ain’t you?” the man asked, pointing the tip of the shovel’s well-worn wooden handle at Leif. “Out to find the next oil well or collection of precious gems.”
Leif snorted. He didn’t want any of that. He’d never cared for monetary gain, and still found it so odd that oil was a valuable consumable. There was a time, he recalled, when oil held almost no worth.
He held his hands out, trying to act like he’d been found out. “You caught me. I’m one of those treasure hunters. I like to hunt treasure. It’s my main hobby.” It sounded forced and thick in his mouth. Leif only had one possession he considered to be a true treasure, and that was Gemma’s brooch.
“Let me learn you something,” the man said, wagging the shovel’s end at Leif. “Treasure may be pretty, but it can sour the prettiest heart until it spoils. Take it from an old man who’s watched too many a friend lose everything in the process of trying to find something. Be careful what you go looking for.”
Leif nodded his head. “That’s wisdom, if I’ve ever heard it. I’ll make sure to keep it in mind. And thank you for the information about the ranch. I’d best be on my way.”
“One more thing, friend,” the man said, nodding eastward. “You find something on the Slegrs’ property, you best be turning it over to them. You try and claim something from their land as your own, you’ll get the pants sued straight off you.”
Leif half-smiled, not understanding the man’s use of language at all. “I’ll be careful.”
The old man grunted, then turned his back to slamming his shovel into the ground, separating another chunk of tree root from the stump. The project would take the man months to complete at this rate.
Leif didn’t wait any longer — he was done getting learned for the day. It was time he made it to Slegr Ranch.
***
There was something liberating about running as fast as he could without ever tiring. Leif remembered running races with the Fuller children just outside of the boarding house, and how they seemed to have endless energy. Sure, he could easily run faster than them, but what they lacked in short legs, they made up for in repetition. “Let’s do it again!” they’d cheer. By the end of the day, Leif was more tired than the children.
But now? Tiredness was non-existent. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d yawned. And now that he was thinking about it, what was the purpose of yawning?
The odd stream of thoughts ended there, though. He came to an abrupt halt right in front of a large gateway. It was strange because that’s all it was — two thick, round wooden beams towered up twenty feet with an arching slab running another twenty feet between, connecting the two poles at the top. Attached to the arch was a sign that had been painted white. Dark, green-stenciled letters broadly spelled Slegr Ranch, and in smaller font, it read Right Were We Belong.
To the common passersby, the sign would have looked like it held a silly spelling error — that the Slegr’s were uneducated. It was a good way to keep people away. Who would want to deal with them if they couldn’t even spell where correctly?
But anybody familiar with shifters knew that this wasn’t a mistake. It was a warning. The Slegrs were weres.
Other signs were stapled to the wooden poles. One read Private Property: Violators will be worse than shot. Another one said Beware of Dogs, which told him that at least some of the Slegrs — if not all — were hounds.
You will have to be extra careful.
It was Gemma. It seemed he was hearing her thoughts in his head less and less as of late.
I will, he replied, then entered through the gateway. Technically, he didn’t have to. There were no fences indicating where the property line was. But the dirt road traveled under the archway and led down to a group of four buildings — they looked like houses — a half a mile or so away.
Weres have keen senses, Gemma continued. They might even smell you from here.
It wasn’t so much that Leif smelled bad — vampires didn’t sweat. But they did put off pheromones, particularly the thirstier they were. Thankfully, Leif wasn’t all that thirsty, which should help in concealing him at least for a while.
They might not recognize the scent of vampire, Leif replied.
If they’ve ever smelled vampires before, they will recognize your scent.
Leif nodded, acknowledging Gemma’s warning. From where he stood, they didn’t seem like a school. But he’d have to get closer. And based on what he knew about the ranch, it was quite large. It was possible there were even more buildings on the acreage.
Looking into the blue sky, he said, “I could wait for the cover of night.”
He hoped Gemma would respond. It was refreshing to hear her voice in his head again.
Alas, she didn’t.
But he already knew what she would have said. Leif made up her voice in his head as he thought it: if there were any mao shifters, they’d be able to spot him a mile away in the dark.
And if there were any ursas, they’d come barreling along, ready to tear him limb from limb. He’d only ever known one ursa — Mr. Tremblay. One hundred years ago, he’d been a resident at the boarding house for a very short time, but had been a little… too out of control. The Frosts had to evict him.
Leif frowned. This mission was becoming more dangerous than he’d initially anticipated.
He heard a rumble behind him, and, turning to look, saw a truck approaching him, kicking up a trail of dust.
Leif’s initial instinct was to run, but there was a chance the driver had already seen him. Such an action would only bring him negative attention. He’d have to talk his way out of the predicament, which meant he’d have to follow Gemma’s advice and be extra careful. And hopefully he wouldn’t be detected as a vampire right away. It was the afternoon, the sun was still high in the sky, and he hoped that would be enough to keep him camouflaged.
Standing his ground, Leif waited as the truck drew near. Like the sound of a gun firing, the old truck backfired, causing him to jump.
“Noisy things,” he grumbled, missing the good old horse and buggy days.
The truck pulled up next to him, coming to a stop. A man wearing a tan cowboy hat sat at the wheel. He was wearing overalls and a white t-shirt peppered with several holes. His elbow rested where the window was rolled down. In the passenger seat was as woman with black hair rolled up in a messy bun. Strands were shooting out every which-way. She eyed Leif suspiciously.
Between the man and woman was a young girl gazing curiously at him. She appeared to be a daughter of the two — she looked like a younger version of her mother, messy bun and everything.
“Hello there,” he said with a sheepish wave.
The man gave him a single nod. “You realize you’re trespassing on private property?”
Leif shrugged, trying to show as much innocence as he could. “I saw the sign back there, but there was nobody to talk to.” He pointed toward the group of buildings. “I was about to head that way to see if I could find anybody.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “Why? Who you looking for?”
Leif’s mind raced. He should have thought out an actual plan. This wasn’t reconnaissance. This was falling right into a mess just waiting to happen. He spoke the first thing that came into his head.
“I received a letter that was signed by a Director Slegr.”
The man swung his head toward the woman, and they shared a look. The little girl stared at him with interest.
“Are you a shifter?” she asked, her southern drawl accentuating the question.
“Loretta,” the woman scolded, “we don’t ask questions like that.”
“But Mama, he got a letter from Auntie Z.”
Auntie Z? What in the world could Leif do with that bit of information? Surely Philip Steadman’s internet wouldn’t provide much information on an Auntie Z Slegr.
The man removed his hat, revealing a thick mat of short, dark brown hair.
“Please excuse our daughter, sir,” he said. “But she asks a valid question. If you received a letter from my sister, then you must be a shifter.”
The lie caught in his throat, but Leif managed a nod.
The man looked forward through the windshield. “Dangerous times for us shifters. I can understand your hesitation to come right out and say it.” He extended a hand toward Leif. “The name’s Milo Slegr.”
Leif threw a worried glance down at Milo’s outstretched hand. If they touched, the man would suspect something about his cold vampire palms and finger. Reluctantly, he brought his hand up and shook Milo’s.
“I’m Evandrus,” Leif said, claiming the first name that surfaced in his mind. “Evandrus Frost.”
“Sheesh, Mr. Frost,” Milo said. “Your name fits you quite well. I reckon you’re about to freeze. Your hand feels like a giant popsicle, even in this summer heat.”
Leif withdrew his hand, then forced himself to half-smile while he held it up and extended his fingers. “Have you ever shaken hands with a naga before?”
Milo looked at him with surprise. “I reckon I haven’t.”
“Well, you have now,” Leif said. “We’re cold-blooded.” He really had no idea if nagas were cold-blooded, but he hoped he’d sold the idea.
“Oh, Daddy,” the girl said, clapping her hands with excitement. “He’s a naga! I’ve never met a naga before.”
Her joy threatened to tear Leif apart. To see one of his lies cause such a reaction… it was almost more than he could bear.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Milo said. “This is my daughter Loretta Jane, and that sweet meadowlark over there’s my wife, Tabitha.”
Again, Leif waved. “Nice to meet you all.”
“Mr. Frost, would you care for some supper?” Tabitha offered. “We’re just getting back from the grocery store. I’m making beef brisket, fresh corn on the cob, and hush puppies.”
“And banana pudding!” Loretta added.
“That’s very generous of you,” Leif replied, trying hard not to think about the human food. The idea was so repulsive. “But really, I don’t have much time. I am merely trying to find out more information about The Island, and what is required of me for the school.”
Milo’s face scrunched in confusion. “The Island? What in tarnation are you doing down here in Lubbock if you’re looking for the school?”
Well, that’s interesting, Leif thought. The school isn’t here, just as I initially guessed.
“My acceptance letter told me to travel to The Island, but didn’t give me any directions,” Leif said quickly.
“Of course Zabrina wouldn’t give you directions,” Milo said. “Can you imagine what would happen if the location of the school fell into the wrong hands?
Finally, a first name. Zabrina Slegr is the director. Not that the name did much, but at least he had that information.
“Oh, no doubt,” Leif said. “If word of the hidden school got out, that would make things particularly dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Milo said with a snort as he placed his hat back on his head. “La Framboise Island would be wiped off the face of the earth in a matter of hours.”
Leif stiffened. La Framboise Island. La Framboise Island. La Framboise Island. He repeated the words over and over in his head, not wanting to forget the strange name. He had it! He had the location of the school! Mission successful!
“Say, how old are you?” Milo said, looking him up and down with a critical eye. “Ain’t you a little old to be starting school?”
Leif forcibly swallowed, staring at Milo’s scrutinizing gaze. “I guess they admit just about any shifter these days, despite age limits.” He swung a hand behind his head, letting his fingers sift through his long black hair until he could scratch his scalp. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, and he got the distinct impression it was approaching its end.
“No,” Milo said, his expression darkening. “In fact, they’re quite particular about who they bring in.”
“I… guess I lucked out then,” replied Leif. “But I suppose I should head back to town and see about travel options to La Framboise Island. I’m sure Director Slegr is waiting for me to arrive.”
“Is she?” Tabitha asked, her eyes reddening like a thirsty vampire. Leif sensed the danger immediately. The woman’s eyelids closed as she deeply inhaled. A half-second later, her eyes flashed open and she gave him a hard look. “Lies. I smell the stink of them on him like Grandma Tessie’s sweet potato pie.”
The passenger door swung open, and Leif watched in horror as Tabitha’s clothing ripped to shreds as she shifted into a black-furred hound. The next thing he knew, Milo’s door flung open, crashing into him and knocking him to the dry dirt.
From the truck, Loretta released a high-pitched scream, and Leif was sure that, even from this distance, it would be heard by the weres living in the houses to the east.
Jumping to his feet, he was barreled over by the snarling hound, Tabitha. Globs of saliva dripped from her swift, snapping jaws as she lunged for his neck. Even swifter, he threw a punch at her muzzle, causing her to yelp in pain.
Leif didn’t want to hurt these creatures, but he needed space to make a run for it.
Even as he pushed the dazed hound off of himself, a cat the size of a mountain lion pounced on him, baring its sharp teeth and digging its claws into his chest. Its fur wasn’t the light tan that most cougars sported — it was a dark brown — unlike any large cat Leif had heard about.
