AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m not afraid of you, Silvan. I trust you.” Romy surprised herself with how much she meant that. She did trust him with her life. With Thora’s life. “Come on. Let’s start looking for this flower.”
Mar Island was largerthan she’d expected, and its topography was diverse and difficult. Traditionally, South Louisiana was primarily marshland—flat and miry—and while the island had no shortage of swamps, the terrain also had gullies and a lush green forest. It was almost like someone had planted Mississippi’s Loess Hill region in the middle of Lake Salvador.
The longer they wandered the shoreline, the more Silvan’s face scrunched in confusion. Several times, Romy had heard him mutter how different the land appeared as a child versus an adult. He didn’t seem rattled but rather perturbed with himself for not paying better attention to his surroundings.
They searched for an entire hour before eventually returning to the boat.
Silvan stretched his arms behind him and pointed his face at the sky with a defeated groan. “I know it’s here, Romy. I know it. We’d stash that extra gear in that hollow cypress, and the rose was about a fourth of a mile to the left, next to a run-off.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. You were a kid when you came out here last. Sometimes important details don’t seem worth committing to memory until you want to remember them.” Silvan didn’t seem too encouraged, so she squeezed his hand and continued. “I couldn’t tell you where we went on vacation when I was twelve if that helps any.”
He brightened. “Yeah, princess. It does.”
“So what are these baddies called? Do they have a proper name, or are they justinsects?”
“We’ve always called them the branka. Magnificent Protector.”
“Norse?” she asked. “And a female name?”
“That’s right.” He pursed his mouth and nodded. “I’m impressed.”
“So the lycans think women are stinging winged creatures?”
Silvan closed the gap between them. He bent, even with her ear, and whispered, “Maybe we think women are badass, fierce guardians who can hold their own.”
“I…” She was lightheaded. Inebriated by his scent, his body, the entirety of him. “... like that explanation… very much.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something she’d missed before. Something she was sure he hadn’t noticed either. “Hmm… weird.”
Romy released him, but their current lingered. Not as strong yet still a significant charge. She crouched next to a stream. “This isn’t stagnant. It’s moving.”
Their eyes tracked the water upward.
“What if we follow this? Maybe this plant decided it needs fresh water to grow instead of nasty sludge?”
Silvan laughed. “You’re a genius.”
“Nah. I’m just perfectly ordinary Romy Delacroix. Not even a real witch yet.” She cringed. Why would she call attention to her insecurity? Silvan already affected her in ways she couldn’t explain. She didn’t need him to feel sorry for her too.
He stepped even with her, then brushed his fingers over her cheek. She was on fire again. This man could make her forget everything. “Romy, ordinary is a word I would never use to describe you. Now, come on. Let’s find this flower.”
Windedafter their trek up the hill, they took a moment to catch their breaths, bowing with their hands on their knees. Romy stretched back up and surveyed the area, and Silvan did the same.
In perfect concert, they both gasped.
The life-giving orange rose grew in abundance along the banks of the stream. She nearly broke out in a sprint toward the flower, but slowed her eagerness and deferred to him to assess the danger. “Can I?”
“No. Do you see them?”
“See what?”
“The branka?” He pointed at the base of a tree about thirty yards away.
Romy squinted until she saw movement. Brown on brown, the outline of a winged insect half a foot in diameter crawled up the trunk and into the leaves. For a brief second, she saw its color change to green. “Fuck. They’re camouflaged.” She turned a circle in slow, controlled movements, realizing they were surrounded. The closest one, a juvenile by virtue of his size, flew onto a rock in the water. The bugs resembled wasps, but in addition to their stinger, roughly the size of a full-grown snake fang, they possessed a horn like a rhinoceros beetle.
“Let me go first.” His tone was firm, protective. “When we get to the water, get as many flowers as possible, but put them all in your bag.Slowly. Like painfully slow, Romy. If you think you’re being slow enough, go slower. No sudden movements. No sound. I’ll have your back, okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” she whispered as she opened her crossbody purse and put on a pair of gloves.
“We should be fine. Their purpose is to guard, not to hurt. They only attack when provoked.”
