Cloudburgh, North Carolina, November
Luke glanced outside the window.
A moonless night.
The lake laid still under the dark awning, not a whiff of breeze disturbed its water.
He took his coffee, secured a blanket under his arm, turned off the kitchen light on his way to the porch. There, he dropped the blanket on one rocking chair, sat on the other, waiting.
She won’t be long now.
His Hannah.
His love.
His swan.
An Other.
He started rocking, the squeak of wood on wood mingled with the crickets’ cry and the occasional call of an owl.
Such a sweet night, perfect for cuddling, she’d say.
She liked more flying during the day, but as hunt season had begun, she wouldn’t risk it.
Soon. She’ll be back soon.
He saw it in his mind, step by step, how she would glide across the water, slowly, gracefully, stretching her moments of true freedom as much as she could. Freedom that came with a steep price tag attached.
Down on the lake shores, she would head to the oaks and pines surrounding their property, waddling her way to the safety of the trees.
Luke chuckled. She hated walking when she was in swan form. Clumsy and awkward, she’d said.
To him, she was beautiful regardless.
She would get the clothes she’s abandoned and come to him where she belonged, just as much as she belonged to the sky.
Almost as if his thoughts called on her, a silhouette darker than a shadow crossed the night.
The gunshot sliced the silence, echoed away, and died like a star’s light at dawn.
Luke didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. If only he could, he would have stopped his own damn heart. It was beating too loud, drowning all the other sounds. He closed his eyes, straining to hear something. Anything. Praying all along, lying to himself that the shot was far away.
He caught it then, not so much a splash but a plop, hollow and abrupt, like a lifeless body falling in water.
Luke was up, running down the few stairs, taking him in the backyard, then off to the lake shore broken by ripples.
The scream, “Hanna,” burned in his throat, but he knew better than to let it free. He pushed labored breaths through clenched teeth until he saw her.
Alive, was his first thought.
Whoever the poacher was, the son of a bitch didn’t fire a killing shot.
She was trudging through shallow waters in human form, clearly hurt, but alive.
He jumped in the lake, barely registering the frigid water, fighting what years of experience screamed in his head - a bullet could still very well be fatal, that he could still lose her.
She fell on her knees as he reached her. “Hanna. Hanna, sweetheart. Talk to me.” He pulled her up, carried most of her weight while half holding, half dragging her out of the frigid waters.
“Shot,” she rasped. “Arm.”
“Okay. We’ll patch it up.”
She lost consciousness three yards away from the four stairs that would let them on the porch and then inside, so he picked her up, her head lolling down on his chest, and carried her to the house.
Luke laid her on the couch, naked and cold, checked on her, and freed the breath he’d been keeping. “You’ll be fine, my love.”
The bullet got into her right arm, in and out. The humerus might be shattered, but she could heal that by herself with some time and care. An artery, on the other hand, would have bled out too fast for her to fix. She’d been lucky.
He retrieved the first aid kit, a blanket, and was about to treat her when heavy knocks at the front door stopped him.
No way he was going to answer.
“Hey, open up.” The voice came from outside, loud and coarse. A voice he knew too well and hated too much. Abraham Lewis. The armed hand of the Purist’s North Carolina branch. The bastard’s eyes had been on Hanna since last winter.
Steeling himself, Luke opened the door. “Can I help?”
“Evening, chief.” Abraham touched the bill of his dirty hat. “Beautiful nigh.”
“It is.”
The man didn’t try to disguise the head-to-toe perusal of his drenched clothes. “You taking an late dunk in the lake?”
Calling on every bit of strength he possessed, Luke shrugged. “You said it yourself. It’s a nice night.”
“You might want to change, though.”
“Yeah, well. So, how can I help?”
Abraham’s smile wanted to be boyish, but Luke saw the hate under it like through an open window. “November, ya know? Bird season.”
“And?”
“My pal’s son, boy’s got his first swan tag.” He inched closer, like he was sharing a mischievous secret. “Think he got one tonight.”
Luke swallowed. He must not give the Purists more reasons to focus on them. Too much attention meant a Court request for vitals and blood tests. “Isn’t night hunting against the law?”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “He was so excited, got carried away. Boys will be boys, after all.”
“I still don’t see how any of this concerns me and Hannah.”
“I told you, he thinks he got some, but it must have fallen somewhere in your woods. If you allow us in, we can look for it real quick. Would be such a shame, leaving such a beautiful bird to die for nothing. Also, tasty meat. Or so they tell me.”
Son of a bitch. “Leave our property,” Luke whispered.
“Come on, Chief. It’s just-”
“Well, hello there.” Hannah’s low, raspy voice shut Abraham better than any threat would. She pushed the door a little more open, wrapped in a blanket that covered her entirely. “Is there a problem?”
Perspiration on her forehead, she leaned heavily on his side. Standing must cost her, Luke realized, hating that man and what represented just as much as he loved her.
Reeling from her unexpected apparition, Abraham sneered. “Evening… ma’am.” He had to clear his voice. “My friend’s son thought he got a big bird,” he said. Every trace of his previous nice attitude vanished. “Maybe he was mistaken, after all.”
What he implied with his words went seemingly lost on Hannah. “What an exciting, if illegal, night. I guess he wants to check our property, right?”
The man nodded.
“Sure, why not? You’ll have to forgive us for not letting you in. We were… busy, and not ready to entertain,” she said, shooting a sultry smile to Luke. “But you can go through the side of the house to get there. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
She stepped back, pulling at Luke, who followed and closed the door in Abraham’s face.
As soon as she was safe, she sagged in Luke’s arms. He bore the weight, pulled her up, and carried her into the bedroom.
Outside, a car turned on and drove off.
“Son of a bitch didn’t even bother with the appearance,” she whispered, trying to sit.
Luke gently pushed on her sternum. “Lay down.”
“I’m okay.” She took his hand, locked eyes with him. “Really. Water feels like concrete when you smash on it. The fall hurt more than the shot.”
“I doubt it. Let me check it.” When he uncovered the arm, saw her angry red, new skin, but the bullet’s hole was already closing, bleeding well forgotten. He reapplied the bandage, tucked her in more. “Why did you come at the door?”
“Because he believed me dead, that he and his pal took me down. Now he knows better.” She laid on one side, made herself more comfortable.
She was tired. It showed in the dark circles under her blue eyes, the paleness of her skin. And Luke wanted to rage, to follow that bastard and any other like him, and…
Luke closed his eyes shut before finishing the thought.
He was a fireman, a man who devoted his life to saving people. Good or bad, innocent or the dirties sinners, he would walk into a building raging with flames and save them.
It’s who he was. And here he went, wishing to end a man’s life.
“Hate doesn’t look good on you, my love,” she said, low.
“You always read me too well.” He pushed a strand of pale blond hair away from her face, stroked her cheek. “I thought I had lost you. When I heard that shot, then you, falling…. I couldn’t bear it.”
He smiled at her, but his heart was dark with revenge. “Sometimes I wish I had the guts to…” he shrugged off words too terrifying to utter.
But again, she knew, and asked. “How many lives would you be willing to take to save mine?”
“I’m afraid of the answer.”
She pulled herself to sit, this time, pain stiffening her movements. “I love you,” she said.
“I love you too.”
“Yes.” She raised a hand to cup his face. The tips of her fingers traced the line of his mouth. “Sometimes I wish you didn’t, so I could set you free from this heartache.”
Heart bleeding for her, for them, Luke took her face in his hands, kissed her with all the fear, the rage, the hopelessness boiling in him. “I take all of this, and more, as long as I can be with you.”
Gently, he made her lie down again, shivered.
“You’re still wet, you must be freezing,” she told him. “Go change, then lay here with me.”
So, he did, and when he laid close to her, skin on skin, he vowed he would do everything to protect her.
* * *
Hannah snuggled more into his warm, strong body, where all she needed was.
Where he was.
Every single part of her hurt, some from the hit, some because she was rebuilding a freaking shattered bone.
Nothing compared to the sorrow in her heart.
She should let him go, allow him to have a happy life with someone normal. Give him the gift of safety, when with her, his lifetime achievements could be stripped away if whoever proved she was an Other, and that he knew it.
But then, how could she? She felt his love, experience it every day in a thousand actions.
Would she set him free, or just make him more miserable?
Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.
He kissed her shoulder, his arm around her. “Try to sleep.”
“I was.”
“No, you were thinking, and it’s always dangerous when you do.”
His words stole a chuckle out of her, but it sobered as quickly. “I’m tired,” she admitted.
“You need rest. It’ll be better tomorrow.”
“No. I mean, yes, but - I’m tired of this, Luke. This town is a good place, possibly the best we’re even lived in, but the fear, the hiding? I can’t stand it anymore. I don’t know how you can.”
“Because I love you more than how much I hate everything else.”
He rolled on his back, and she mimicked the action. Only a light in the kitchen was still on, enough for her to see his silhouette in the luminous darkness. Strong lines in the straight nose and squared jaw. Sweetness in the soft brown of his eyes and the generous lips. If only she didn’t hurt, so she could lose herself in him, become one with her soulmate. His hands would heal, his mouth absolve her from a sin she didn’t commit and yet condemned her.
When she moved toward him, though, the pain was too much.
“We can move,” he said, distracting her from both ache and frustration.
“Again?”
“Sure, why not? Start over, and maybe things will change at some point.”
“But you love it here. We both do.”
His mouth turned up in a smile. “I love you more than a town. I love you more than a job, if moving means changing it.”
Hannah closed her eyes, put an arm over her face to hide the tears she couldn’t hold. “To what end?” she whispered. “Here or anywhere else, nothing will change. Nothing will ever change. We’re hunted like animals, Luke.” Her voice, thick with sadness and powerful with desperation, filled the silence of the room. “It’s not only those assholes, it’s the entire system. The law is against us. It’s all set to take away everything from us and from the people we love just because we exist.” Through the hurt, his hand reached hers and held on. “Nothing will ever change because the world will destroy us if we so much as ask to be treated as humans.”
He brought her hand to his lips. “Rest, Hannah. We’ll find a way.”