Vo'ke

Fourteen

There was a solemnity that fell over the house in the days before the rest of our crew arrived again. We fell into a routine that allowed us to cohabitate together while simultaneously working through things on our own time.

That first night I rolled over in her bed to find the area beside me vacant. In the morning when I woke, it seemed Scarlett hadn't yet returned and I pulled on my clothes quickly before heading out the door in search for her. The shower was on in bathroom and she replied when I called out her name.

Niabi was silent, undergoing a tribal ritual that allowed her space to herself to mourn. When the same vow of silence had been suggested to Scarlett, she had apparently spat on the ground and drove off in her grandfather's truck. A ceremony was yet to be held in Atian's memory, but his body wasn't in well enough tact to be viewed and the now clear schism between the tribe and outsiders was more obvious than ever.

In Atian's wake was John Locklear, an elder the former chief had disagreed with in many instances, the most prominent being our allowance into the investigation of the Blood Moon Massacre. It was clear that our team was no longer welcome in town or on tribal land, but Niall and Shaw would stop at nothing for their evidence and I would allow Scarlett's torment no longer.

I was out for blood.

When Scarlett did sleep, it was during the day, naked and coming down from an orgasmic high I reverently instilled in her whenever her deep brown eyes turned and silently implored my touch. In those moments I would watch the way in which her chest rose and fell with each breath, note the flutter of her eyelids when a nightmare consumed her. I tried waking her a few times, but she seemed dazed and ill-tempered when I did. Eventually I let her sleep through it while I plotted the beast's demise.

At dusk she would awaken and cook dinner. We would all three sit down at the table with Niabi at the head and silently eat. I would clean afterward, take a shower, and return back to the bed to sleep for the evening. Scarlett would quietly and softly slip out of bed in the night and without fail, she'd be back in the morning wearing my flannel and a wet head of hair.

It was only two days later when everyone returned and I found myself navigating the wet muddy roads in the truck once again. It was all muscle memory; I could remember every rut and dip in the road to avoid, every ridge that would allow passage or swallow the tires whole. If Scarlett was impressed, she didn't show it. She sat pale as a ghost in the passenger seat, her hand warm and clutching mine the only thing that assured me she was still lucid.

We spoke little, and when we did, it was about nothing at all. It was a calm before the storm.

The cabin was chaos. Liam and Zayn were arguing as they unrolled cables and wires, Niall seemed as if he hadn't slept in days and frowned upon Scarlett's arrival. He said something to Shaw who nodded in acknowledgement before he stalked inside. Annalise was visible through the window, engaged with Louis in a discussion I imagined held equipment purposes at its center. Meanwhile, Scarlett didn't make a single move to leave the truck even after I'd cut the engine.

"Are you okay?"

"It'll be tonight."

I frowned, turning the keys in my hand. "What do you mean?"

"It'll know you're here. It'll come for you."

"Then I'll kill it."

"Like you did last time?" she asked, finally turning to look at me. Something in my face must have read pain because she scrunched her nose. "That was bad. I'm sorry. I just..."

"I understand."

She heaved a breath and ran a hand through her hair. A few seconds later her fingers latched around the handle to the passenger side door and she pushed it open, hopping down into the icy gravel. I followed behind as she moved toward the group.