Shifting. Part 33

Nothing? I hoped that was true. "The Walkers think I'm dead, right?" He nodded. "What happens when they find out I'm not?"

He glanced at the mine shaft. "Hopefully that will never happen. But now that you're with us-the s.h.i.+fters-they'll think twice about coming after you. Before, when you were alone, you were a prime target."

I stepped out of the safe embrace of his arms and looked down into the depths of the mine shaft again, staring at the impenetrable blackness. Without thinking, I willed my eyes to be those of a cat, made them change, expand, improve, and then, like a movie coming suddenly into focus, the bottom of the mine shaft blurred into view. Dark shapes against darker ma.s.ses solidified into grotesquely twisted and broken animals.

A gasping intake of breath startled me, and my eyes jerked from the shaft to Bridger. He scrambled away backward, as if I were a demon, and lost his footing. Orange dust swirled as he fell heavily to the ground. I burst out laughing. I'd never seen him trip before-didn't think it was possible.

Slowly, not taking his eyes from mine, he stood and brushed off his pants. A smile crept over his startled face.

"You are definitely a mirror! You have the eyes of a freaking cat," he said, walking back to my side. "But you're my cat." He framed my face with his hands and peered down into my eyes. "Even if I'm a bird of prey." Then he kissed me.

EPILOGUE.

The house felt like a place from my distant past. I hadn't been back since the night Bridger had shot me, four days ago, yet everything seemed different, as if in a matter of days I'd outgrown the place.

Bridger turned off the SUV and I pressed my nose to the window, studying the familiar orange-and-pink-framed skyline-mountains, not skysc.r.a.pers-before getting out. As my door slammed shut, Mrs. Carpenter's front door opened.

"Is that you, Maggie Mae?" a deep voice called. I walked toward the front porch where Mr. Petersen stood with his arms folded across his chest. As I approached he smiled and opened his arms and something deep inside of me seemed to wake up. I ran to him and threw my arms around his chest, thinking this must be how it felt to be reunited with a family member after a long time away. He hugged me back, extra tight, and then held me at arm's length. "I think you've grown since I saw you last," he said, eyes twinkling. His hands tightened on my shoulders. "You made it, kiddo. Survived the hardest part of your life and lived to tell!"

My eyes grew round and I wondered how he could possibly know this. "Wait ... what do you mean?" I asked, hoping he couldn't hear the near-panic in my voice.

"High school," he said with a chuckle. I smiled and laughed a weak laugh. The gravel crunched behind me and Bridger walked slowly up the porch steps. "Bridger O'Connell," Mr. Petersen said, holding his hand out to Bridger. Bridger shook his hand. "Nice to see you, son."

"You, too," Bridger said.

"There's someone inside dying to see you," Mr. Petersen said, looking at me again. "Not literally dying, mind you, but she heard the car on the gravel and insisted I get you inside as soon as possible." Mr. Petersen looked down his nose at me, the same stern look he'd give when he found out I'd been caught out on the streets nude.

And all of a sudden I couldn't take a step forward. I'd talked to Mrs. Carpenter every day that she'd been in the hospital-called her from the phone in the O'Connells' guest room-but talking wasn't the same as seeing her. I couldn't help but worry that she'd blame me for everything that had happened-like I blamed myself. What if she hated me?

Bridger looped his arm around my shoulder and put his lips on my ear. "Stop worrying," he said quietly. "She's as eager to see you as you are to see her."

I relaxed a bit and walked through the front door.

"Maggie Mae," Mrs. Carpenter said with a warm smile on her thin face. "How are you, dear?" She lay on a reclined hospital bed in the living room, an IV tube leading to a purple vein in the back of her frail hand.

"I'm good," I answered. She held a hand out to me and I crossed the room and grabbed it, gently squeezing. "How are you?"

"Better than a woman my age with a broken hip should be. They put a couple of pins in there and now I can practically walk," she said with a smile.

"Not yet, Mother," Mr. Petersen warned in his no-nonsense voice.

Looking around, I felt a sudden pang of homesickness. Things had been put back to normal, thanks to Mr. Petersen-the hole in the ceiling plastered and painted over, the chunks of ceiling swept up off the floor, as if none of it had ever happened.

"John, I need a word with Maggie Mae," Mrs. Carpenter said. "Why don't you go outside and talk to Bridger for a while?"

I looked out the window. Bridger sat on the porch swing, face pointed toward the setting sun, hair glinting black and gold. Mr. Petersen scowled at his mother but said, "Whatever you say."

When the front door shut behind him, Mrs. Carpenter turned to me. "I can see your plans written all over your face," she said with a sad smile.

Tears seeped into my eyes and I nodded. "It's what's best," I explained, wiping my tears away.

"I know it is. Funny thing about doing what's right-it's always the harder road to follow. But you already know that." She sighed. "Now tell me, are you and that O'Connell boy finally going steady?"

I blushed and nodded, grinning.

"It's about time! I knew the moment I saw him look at you that there were sparks there-that first day of school." She chuckled. "He's a fine-looking boy, and n.o.ble, out there sitting on the swing so that you and I can have a moment alone."

"Mrs. Carpenter?" I hung my head and swayed against a sudden surge of guilt that racked me from my scalp to my toes. "I need to tell you something."

"Well, tell away. I'm not going anywhere."

I looked up into her encouraging, forgiving face. "I broke the ring of protection. I didn't mean to-I thought if I moved it closer to your house you'd be safe." Miserable with guilt, I looked away again and stared down at my shoes. "It was my fault you broke your hip, my fault Duke died and Shash ran away. And I am so, so sorry."

"Maggie?" I looked up at her, blinking against a sheen of tears. "You did nothing wrong. Those creatures-have you figured out what they are?"

I nodded and bit my lip.

"Whatever they are-and I don't want to know the details-they acted of their own will. You had no hand in what happened. The most important thing-are you safe?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Something thumped on the front porch and nails scratched the front door. My eyes met Mrs. Carpenter's fear-filled eyes and a silent question pa.s.sed between us. Are they back already? I turned and faced the front door.

A low growl echoed outside, the door handle turned, and Bridger poked his head inside. "Someone's here to see you two," he said with a mischievous grin. He opened the door wide and Shash, fur dusty and tangled with twigs, slunk inside.

"Shas.h.!.+" I fell to my knees and clapped my hands, and he trotted across the floor, putting his ma.s.sive front paws on my shoulders and licking my face until I toppled backward.

"Can I come in now?" Mr. Petersen asked from the doorway.

"Come in, son," Mrs. Carpenter said. At the sound of her voice Shash climbed off me, put his nose on the side of her bed, and whined. "You miserable mutt," Mrs. Carpenter said with a smile. "You're filthy! And I can't vacuum!"

"Maggie, come outside with me for a few minutes," Bridger said, helping me to my feet. I followed him out the front door. "Will you help me rebuild the ring of protection before it gets too dark?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. Why didn't my ring of protection work?"

"Are you Navajo?" Bridger asked. I shook my head. "Did you bless it after you made it?" I shook my head again. "Did you use sage and an eagle feather to strengthen it?"

"All right, I get it," I said. "I don't have the magic touch."

"Exactly."

"Mrs. Carpenter won't need the ring of protection anymore," I said quietly, stepping off the porch.

"She won't?" Bridger asked, surprised.

"Not because of me, at least. There's no way I'll put her in danger again. I'm moving out." I took Bridger's hand and we walked toward the back of the house where the skulls had been piled. A warm breeze blew, stirring the boughs of a crooked pine and blowing my hair away from my face.

Bridger pulled me to a stop. "You're moving?" he asked, slipping his hands around to the small of my back and looking at me with curious eyes. "Won't Mrs. Carpenter need you around to help her out?"

I shook my head. "When I talked to Mrs. Carpenter this morning, she told me her granddaughter is moving into the upstairs bedroom to take care of her. Her granddaughter's a nurse. It's time for me to move on."

"Where are you going to go?" he asked. I could hear the real question in the concerned tone of his voice.

"Don't worry-I'm actually moving closer to you," I explained. "Naalyehe has a studio apartment above the restaurant. He says he'll give me a good price on rent if I want to fix it up a bit-paint the walls and clean it up and stuff. I gave him a deposit during my s.h.i.+ft today. I can move in tomorrow. If ..." I put my hands behind Bridger's neck and ran my fingers through his hair.

His eyes narrowed. "If what?" he asked suspiciously.

I shrugged. "If someone with a car can help me move my stuff?"

He frowned and shook his head. "Too bad I own an SUV and not a car. Otherwise I'd have been just the guy for the job."

I laughed and shoved him, but his hands tightened on the small of my back and pulled me closer. He rested his forehead on mine. "You've got to get over this inability to ask people for help," he whispered, his nose b.u.mping mine. I closed my eyes and brushed my lips over his, inhaling his exhaled air. He sighed, his body melting into me, his heart drumming against mine.

"Bridger, will you help me?" I whispered against his mouth, opening my eyes.

He took a deep breath and, without opening his eyes, nodded. "Always and forever. Whatever you need, I'll be here." His lips started moving against mine, gently insistent, making my brain swirl and my heart explode. I smiled against his mouth and kissed him, adjusting my body to line up with his like we were constructed for each other, two halves of a bigger whole.

I closed my eyes, and in that instant, my world seemed to s.h.i.+ft, as if all the screwed-up c.r.a.p I'd gone through over the past years clicked into place, locking together to form a bigger picture than I'd ever seen before-me, right here, right now. Every day, every minute, leading to this moment, bringing me to this point in time where everything was all right.

This place where I'd never be alone again.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

Thanks to the best agent in the universe, Marlene Stringer, for falling in love with Maggie Mae enough to take a risk on me. Without you, Marlene, this book never would have made it. And a huge thank-you to Emily Easton for believing in me, and for her unending patience and wisdom!

Thank you, Mom and Dad, my sisters Tiffiny, Brittany, and Natalie, and my brother, Matt, for reading and loving my book, even in its early stages.

Thanks to my beta readers, Nicole, Cyndi, Sh.e.l.ly, Kelli, Elana, Mich.e.l.le, Bonny, Sarah, Heidi, and Janie, for loving the story enough to read it until the wee hours of the morning. And thanks to Pat and Cole for telling me the story was good enough, even when I was in the depths of self-doubt.

Thanks to my kids, for not giving me funny looks when I'd zone off in the middle of dinner or start vocalizing dialogue between two characters while we drove around town.

To the woman who made me realize that deep down inside, I am a writer-my sister and accomplice-in-writing, Suzette Saxton-thanks for daring me to start!

Last of all, with overflowing love and grat.i.tude, I'd like to thank my husband, Jaime, for dealing with me staying up night after night, sometimes till dawn, to get the madness of this story down on paper.

end.