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I use my Gift to weed out anyone not capable of walking the right path, just like I used to ruthlessly root out posers and destructive assholes from my club. Anyone not on mission, anyone not willing to fall in line, finds out real quick what I’m about. Keeping our settlement free of men with unchecked evil in their hearts is key. Surround yourself with good men, and good things will happen. Bad men, bad things will happen.
Rev’s got the next best Gift for ensuring Eagle Peak works as a team moving on the right path. He can tell the future. And sometimes, he seems to just know shit. Like, he has this intuition about our situation that goes deeper than anything I’ve got going on. That’s why he gives us weekly sermons, to share what he’s discovering as his Gift makes itself known.
I’m hoping that Gift has some insight about what I saw and sensed this morning.
I motion him over. “Need your eyes on this,” I say, lifting the bird out by its limp neck.
“What do we have here?” Rev says, inspecting my prize. “That a bullet hole?” He motions to the matted, bloody feathers on the thing’s chest.
I nod in response. “This morning, I took Cora out to see the latest marker I made for our territory.”
Rev’s eyes blaze with understanding. After the guys got in last night, I had a sit-down with my second in command and filled him in on everything that went down while he was away. He knows how we found Cora, and I bet he’ll make time today to go spit on the face of the mother-fucker who tortured her for almost two years.
“Felt my Gift tingle,” I say. “Looked up and saw this thing watching us. Just watching. Intently. My Gift went fucking crazy. I looked this thing in the eye, and I knew—I just knew—it was enemy.”
Rev sticks out his lower lip in consideration. “Interesting.” He strokes his beard. “Ever have your Gift perk up for an animal before?”
“Never.”
We share a look, and I can see he understands how serious this is.
“Notice anything strange about it?” I ask. Rev’s from Oklahoma, so I don’t know if he’s familiar with fowl native to Louisianna.
“I notice I’ve never seen a heron with that coloring before. It’s not a Great Blue, I can tell you that.”
“It’s a Tricolored Heron. Native to the coast down south. They don’t venture far from the ocean. Ever.”
Rev strokes his beard some more. He studies the bird with those intense eyes of his. Sometimes, I think he’s got some kind of invisible laser he shoots out of them to help him see things the rest of us can’t.
I’m quiet while he wraps his hand around the bird’s slender neck and takes it from me. Maybe he’s trying to read it with his hands and his eyes. I have no idea how his Gift works. I just know it does.
Finally, he shakes his head. “Would have liked to see it when it was alive. Not getting anything from it just now.” He gives me back the bird. “Maybe I’ll dream on it tonight.”
I nod. I can be patient.
“If you see anything else like this,” Rev says, “try to capture it alive.”
Chapter 3
Cora
I’m preparing dinner with Shepwhen Jud bangs in. His head nearly brushes the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, and he makes the large kitchen seem crowded. It’s his size, yes, but also his energy. Intensity rolls off him in waves.
When he’s intense like this, which is almost always, he makes me uncomfortable, so I ignore him, returning my attention to marinating venison strips in a giant mixing bowl.
I wasn’t sure the wet ingredients would be enough to spread the spices evenly over the massive amount of meat we sliced up, but Shep assured me the seasoning would be perfect. He’s right. There’s just enough for a light coating on every inch of meat. I’m learning that Shep is amazing at understanding exactly how much of something to use without wasting any of it. Maybe it’s part of his Gift.
“Who’s up, tonight?” Jud’s demanding voice fills my ears, but I don’t register that he’s talking to me until he barks, “Cora.”
I pause in stirring. “What?”
“Who’s. Up. Tonight?” Hands on hips, he looks like a petulant Paul Bunyan minus the axe.
I frown. My headspace is taken up with food-prep tasks. Shep has kept me busy all day in the kitchen and garden, and I’ve learned a ton. I mean, I could make a box of mac and cheese, before, or a spaghetti dinner for the fam when mom had to work late, but I’ve never learned how to make anything from scratch. I find I like this kind of work. And I like Shep. He’s a patient and flirty teacher, not to mention easy on the eyes.
“Who’suptonight?” I make his question a question of my own.
“He means, who are you inviting to your cabin tonight.” Shep takes the large mixing bowl from me and begins laying the venison strips onto the griddle. They sizzle and fill the kitchen with a heavenly aroma. What’snotheavenly is Jud’s attitude.
