Animals ✔

Chapter 11

Okay, so 'exactly' is a bit of a stretch.

But I didn't know how else to convince Jon to make Aunt Flora to rip apart my mom's house in search of a book that may or may not even exist, so I figure it's best to just roll with it.

It isn't until the next morning, after a long shower and convincing Tiberius to find me a set of crutches, that I let him in on the fact that I may have embellished my plans a bit the night before.

"So what's so special about this journal?" Tiberius's low timbre draws my attention away from the TV to shrug at him. He sits at the other end of the couch, staring at me intently.

"It can tell us what they're really after, and why."

He narrows his eyes at me, obviously waiting for a longer explanation.

I flounder a bit. "Charlie found it before she..." I trail off. "It's important, I know it. So what if I exaggerated a little last night? It has all the answers. We need it."

"Have you even seen it before? How do you know Charlie wasn't wrong about it? Or lying?"

I glower at him, "My sister was not a liar. There's no way Charlie would have gone anywhere near those wolves without a plan. Our great grandmother's journal is the key to everything."

He looks unconvinced.

Ignoring him, I shift my attention back to the TV right on time to see a picture of Laurel pop up in the top right corner of the screen. I grab the remote, unmuting the show and tuning in to the newscaster's voice.

"... was found mauled to death in White River National Forest, near Frisco, Colorado. This is the third in a series of fatal animal attacks across the northwestern US." Two more pictures join Laurel on the screen, only one of which I'm familiar with.

Without thinking, I reach out for Tiberius, only to find that he's moved right next to me, and grip his hand in mine.

"... Mia Jackson was found dead in Yellowstone National Park in Montana three weeks ago, while the body of Abby Mitchell was found just last week near Medicine Bow National Forest, outside of Albany, Wyoming. Although law enforcement officials have said they believe these incidents to be coincidental, many locals in both Albany and Frisco have been quick to voice concerns over the similarities between victims." The screen changes to a police press conference and I barely even notice when Tiberius turns off the TV.

I close my eyes. My mind is reeling, trying to wrap itself around a third victim. Three. They've killed three girls.

Their faces are burned into the back of my eyelids.

Nausea washes over me, but I push it down, allowing the anguish to pull me apart instead. But it isn't enough and before I realize what's happening, I'm standing, all of my pent up aggression and anger rising up to drown out everything else.

My heart pounds furiously in my chest. The only thing I feel is white-hot rage, searing my insides and painting my vision red. My blood is pumping in my ears and through my fury I just barely sense the fire following through my veins, my anger reaching dangerous proportions, but I can't fight it. It's too much.

Tiberius's hands on my face are what finally pull me back. His thumb rubs soothing circles into the skin of my cheek while the other one runs across my cheekbone, falling to my lips and gently tracing them. I lean into the hand on my cheek, exhaling deeply as the tension leaves my body.

My knees give out abruptly, but Tiberius has wrapped me in his arms before I hit the ground. I close my eyes, trying to ignore the dizziness as he pulls me back onto the couch, my legs sprawled across the cushions and my torso awkwardly draped against his chest. I'm half on top of his lap and my hands shamelessly seek out one of his, pulling it across my waist and gripping it tightly.