Page 9 of Bone Collector’s Mate
Chapter Seven
Noir
I was worried about Benji Jackson James. It kept me up most of the night, pacing, but that was nothing new to me. Walking at night was easier than breathing. Less effort as well.
I brought him home, making sure he went into the cottage and was safe before leaving but after that, I didn’t know what had occurred. Why had a father let his child wander so far? This was a dangerous world. I knew that more than anyone. Danger lurked around every corner, waiting on coincidence, chance, or vengeance.
He’d wandered all the way to my home and encountered Homer. Without his glasses, the goat and I were normal things to see, but with them, well, I didn’t want to know his reaction to my form.
Poor Homer wouldn’t give a fuck, but I did.
I’d frightened many a man, woman, and child in my day, but I didn’t want little Benji to be one of them.
I couldn’t even work out why.
By the time the sun rose over the horizon, breaking night from day, I was pissed off. His father had let him go far from home all alone, and I had a mind to tell him about it.
I stopped inside my front door, questioning whether or not this was necessary, and came up with a yes.
Headed north, toward Benji’s home, my walk became a stomp. My anger pushed me forward. Homer chomped away at a patch of grass he’d missed right underneath the cabin and kicked out his back leg as I passed, probably trying to trip me.
He was a good lawn mower, but ornery and bothered. All the time restless. His jaw must’ve hurt but it never stopped him.
I took the same path as the night before, and I could see the green house with the white shutters in the distance.
My anger gave me pause. I had no right to judge a father’s parenting. I’d never been one or had one that I could remember. I’d raised myself, for the most part. Shuffled between group and foster homes but kids kept their distance. Adults sidestepped when I came near.
A hint of my future.
Between the tree line separating my property from the next, the sun spread its rays on the small hills of grass. I stopped to let it shine down on my face, my skull. Shifting to a human form was difficult. It took a good bit of energy and, I supposed, magic. Dark magic.
The kind that was my plight and my worth.
I rethought my mission. My stay here at Whisper Grove had been the best time of my life. The cabin. Having a home base. A place to lay my head that wasn’t threatened at all times.
There would always be whispers about me, but here they seemed quieter.
Smaller.
Not always aimed at me. Probably true, since they hadn’t seen my bone-collector form. Some of them probably suspected what I was, but all of them had the good manners not to intrude or ask.
I breathed in the new air of the season. The wet chill of autumn seeped into my bones and made me feel alive, though there was still a debate on whether or not I was.
Once, I’d read about creatures who teetered on the line between life and death. But they were out for vengeance and obeyed a master.
In some ways, I did as well.
I heeded the bones. The life they left behind. Since moving here, I’d only found a few, and I took care in making my chimes from them, but there wasn’t the pressure to drive on in the night like there was before.
My gaze returned to the green house, and something in the air caught my full attention.
Life was so precious, and I thought that was what made Benji’s arrival and being lost so hurtful to me. He wasn’t my son, but the protective instinct made me feel like he belonged under my watchful eye.
Benji’s life should’ve been just as precious to his father.
So, why had he wandered off without anyone noticing. And lost his glasses in the process.
And worse, had to ask a stranger to help.
I could’ve been anyone with bad intentions.
No, the father had to know how serious this was.
On my high moral horse, I shifted my head again and walked to the property line marked with a row of trees.
A scent caught my nose and it propelled me forward. Then I heard a growl.
Padding paws. Not footsteps but that of an animal.
A wolf near.
