Chapter 22 Zemirah.

Chapter 22 Zemirah.


Zemirah

The house was at the end of a dirt road. two stories, gray stone, moss growing up the north wall, a river ran past the back of the property, and I could hear it before I saw the water. Tasha used to talk about this place and about the woman who lived here, she spoke about how quiet it wasand how no one would ever find her if she came here.

I hadn't thought about that conversation in years but now I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Fernandez turned off the engine. We sat in the car for a moment, looking at the house. There were no lights in the windows and no smoke from the chimney, the yard was overgrown, grass up to my knees, weeds climbing the porch steps.

"Doesn't look like anyone's been here in months," he said.

"Tasha wouldn't pick a place that looked lived in, she's smart so she'd pick somewhere abandoned because she knows no one would think to look there."

We got out.

The front door was locked.
Fernandez stepped back and kicked it open, the wood splintered around the frame. Inside, the air was cold and smelled like mice, dust covered everything. There was a  table of four chairs, a fireplace full of old ash. From all indications someone had been here recently, though. I saw footprints in the dust and small shoes, leading from the front door to the back.

"It's Tasha's size," I said.

Fernandez followed the prints and I stayed close behind him.

The back door opened onto a porch overlooking the river, the wood was rotten, and soft under our feet. Someone had been sitting out here, a blanket was folded on the railing, a half-empty bottle of water sat on the floor.

"She was here recently," I said. "Maybe yesterday."

Fernandez looked at the ground, the trees, the road we'd driven in on. "But she's not here now though."

"No."

We searched the house anyway, it had three bedrooms upstairs, all empty. A bathroom with a tub full of brown water. A closet with clothes that didn't fit Tasha, clothes that belonged to whoever had lived here before. In the kitchen, I found a plate with dried food on it. A fork,a glass with a ring of something dark at the bottom.

I touched the plate. The food was hard, cracked, and seemed a few days old, at least.

"She's not coming back," I said. "She left this here on purpose, she wanted us to find it."

Fernandez came up behind me. "Or she left in a hurry."

"No. Tasha doesn't hurry, she plans and  she thinks ahead." I looked around the kitchen. The dust and peas decayed, this felt like it was a stop point, not a destination."

"Then where could she be headed?"

I didn't have an answer.

We walked back to the car. I stopped at the edge of the yard, looking at the house, the river, the trees, somewhere out there, my stepsister was running and worse, she was already planning her next move.

"Let's go," I said.

\---

We drove north for an hour before I spoke again.

"My father used to take me fishing," I said. "On the river near the pack house. We'd sit for hours, just the two of us, and he'd tell me stories about his father. About the wars he fought, the packs he'd beaten and the wolves who'd tried to take his land."

Fernandez didn't say anything.

"He stopped taking me when I turned twelve, his excuse was I was too old for fishing and too old for the stories." I watched the trees pass outside the window. "That's when Sloane started,that's when everything changed."

"What did Sloane do?"

"She convinced him I was trouble, that I needed to be controlled, I couldn't be trusted around other wolves, she fed him lies for years, and he believed every one of them because she was in his ear every day and I was just a girl who wanted her father to look at her."

Fernandez's hands tightened on the wheel. "He should have protected you."

"He should have done a lot of things."

The road curved, we were coming up on the border, the line between my pack's territory and unclaimed land.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Back to your pack house, you have a council to manage and hold together, I can send men to look for Tasha, You don't have to be the one chasing her."

"She's my family."

"She's a killer," He countered.

"So am I, now."

Fernandez looked at me. Just for a second. Then back on the road.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I sat in my father's chair today and told a room full of wolves that I was in charge, that means I'm responsible for what happens next, If Tasha hurts someone else, it's on me. If the pack falls apart, it's on me. If people die because I couldn't find her fast enough—"

"That's not how it works."

"It's how it works for me."

We crossed the border, the land changed. The trees grew taller, the road got rougher. I knew every mile of this route, I had driven it a hundred times as a girl, coming home from school, and friends' houses.

Now I was coming home to a castle where my father was dead and my stepsister was hunted and my stepmother was there pretending to be sorry.

\---

Sloane was in the library when we got back.

She was sitting in one of the armchairs near the window, with a book open in her lap. She looked up when I walked in, her face was pale and her eyes were red.

"Did you find her?"

"No, we didn't."

Sloane closed the book. "She was always like this, even as a child, she would break things. I told her father she needed help because something was wrong with her, but he never listened, he said she was just spirited and going through a phase."

"His throat was cut."

Sloane flinched. "I know."

"Did you know she was capable of that?"

She didn't answer.

"Did you know, Sloane?"

"I knew she was capable of things. I didn't know she was capable of murder." Sloane's voice cracked. "She's my daughter. I raised her with love and now I don't know who she is anymore."

I sat down across from her, the fire was burning low.

"You're going to have to choose," I said. "Between her and this pack, between her and me, you can't have both though."

Sloane stared at me. "You're asking me to abandon my daughter."

"I'm asking you to decide whose side you're on."

She was quiet for a long time. The fire crackled. The wind rattled the windows.

"I'll help you find her," Sloane said finally. "I'll tell you everything I know, and every person she's ever trusted, but promise me when you find her—"

"When I find her, she faces the council. She answers for what she did, I'm not making any promises about what happens after that."

Sloane nodded. A tear slid down her cheek, she wiped it away with the back of her hand.

"Her father's hunting cabin," Sloane said. "In the eastern woods, she used to go there when she was upset, she once told me it was the only place she felt safe."

"How do I get there?"

"I'll draw you a map."

She walked to the desk in the corner. Pulled out paper and a pen, her hand was steady as she drew.

She was crying quietly and trying to hide it.

I didn't feel sorry for her, but I understood her, she was a mother who had lost her daughter, it wasn't to death, but this felt worse.

She handed me the map. "The cabin is about three hours from here by foot, because the road is bad, you'll have to park and walk in."

"Thank you."

Sloane looked at me. "I'm sorry, Zemirah. For everything."

I took the map and walked out.

Fernandez was waiting in the hallway.

"We're going to the Eastern woods," I said. "Sloane said it's three hours on foot, we leave in the morning."

He nodded without asking questions, then he walked down with me toward the stairs.

Tomorrow, we'll have good news because I'm positive, we'll find the cabin and we'll find Tasha.

I'm going to bed, have a good night's rest.” I said to Nandez, he nodded and left for his guest room.