Page 12 of The Final Storm
“As a surprise to no one,” I tell her.
Sam opens the door before she responds, and he sees her expression.
“What happened?” he asks, walking over to the sink to wash his hands. He’s covered in dirt from working on another project, and a brick forms in my stomach from guilt. We were making this place home, and now I’m ripping that away from everyone.
“We need to talk to the islanders, specifically Gemma,” I answer.
“I told you it’s not a good time,” he laments.
I raise one hand to stop his lecture. He dries his hands and comes over to Morgan, scooping her up and cradling her in his arms. The way he looks at her makes me melt.
Sam’s eyes say everything, and he doesn’t need to speak a word. They gaze at the children with so much pride and adoration that I worry he might burst from it. He’d die for all of them without a second thought.
He looks at me like I’m a meal he can’t get enough of, and he wants to taste every inch of my body.
I should have fucked him before we left for the slingshot.
“The boys saw something,” I explain. “And I’m thinking we need to rethink this whole ‘avoid the islanders’ plan.”
“Also, this is a good time to tell you both I think someone from that boat already put boots on our island,” Lori adds. “I swear I thought someone was watching me last night when I was boiling water by the fire.”
Sam shoots me a look, and I bite my lip.
“Rowan, this is me officially asking,” Lori says. “What did you see? Why do the boys see us leaving for the Galene? What’s going on?”
A wave of panic hits me knowing I’ve told neither of them about the woman dressed in white, and I don’t think now is the time. I feel the blood leave my face, and I ask Sam for some water.
“She saw people arrive from the ship on a night when it rains,” Sam tells her.
“And?” Lori pleads.
“And not a lot,” I say. “I wanted to get a plan before that happened, but it rained last night, and I was a little preoccupied with getting the human out of my uterus. They could already be around.”
“And Dean?” Her lip quivers.
“I haven’t seen him, and I don’t think he’s anywhere near us.” That much is true, and I’m glad to tell her something open and honest that eases her fears.
“The boys’ vision is another matter, and a lot more precise. They gave us some clear instructions.” I look over at Sam. “And you, sir, are not going to like it.”
“And you will?” He raises an eyebrow.
“No.” I take a sip of water and clutch the glass in my hands. “I don’t think any of us will like what’s coming.”
Chapter 5
Oracle
Theislanders’villagelooksthe same as the last time we visited. I can’t remember how long ago that was, but I recognize the stone pathway laid at the entrance with two guard towers behind their wall of trees. The men above laugh and eat, waving as we walk through. I’m not sure what they’re watching for, but I don’t remember islanders sitting there before.
Everything has its place here, and we pass the homes on either side, each with buckets out front for water and baskets to deliver bread and other items. Gemma runs a tight ship, and I giggle at myself with the pun.
Sam made me wait a few days before we came. I’m getting around well, and the pain is gone, although I suspect Luke slipped me some Stadol on that first day - the kind bastard.
Luke stays back with Lori, resting. After speaking with the boys, we decide to give him some antibiotics we found. Luke’s the only one who knows how much to take and how to administer them, and he refused at first. We explained the boys’ vision and our plans, and he still denied the medicine. When Lori begged, bawling in his lap, his face fell in defeat.
Even with the antibiotics, he’s not doing well, and I’m eager to leave. We’ll need a few days to arrange things, and my body and head don’t agree on how much I should get done in a day. This morning it took me an hour to bathe and get out the door, and I’m scared things aren’t moving fast enough to save Luke.
A young girl greets us, and she’s kind, telling us she’ll fetch Gemma and asking if we need anything to drink. I relax, hopeful the villagers’ mistrust has diminished just when another woman walks by and glares at us with contempt. I think she might have spit on the ground when she left our line of vision, and I sigh, ignoring the slight.
