“You picked that up, huh?”
“It’s pretty obvious,” O’Neill offered carefully.
“Yeah?” Her sigh trembled through her. “To answer your question…no, that…tension you spoke of is a recent thing. There’s always been a distance between us. But it wasn’t filled with anger or resentment, just...disinterest. But then. the only person Gracie ever wanted to spend time with was her twin.” Her gaze skated toward O’Neill and away again. “And now you.”
“When did the tension appear?”
Her face twisted, grief hollowing her cheeks. “After Daniel died.” A long pause with shaky breathing followed. “I think…I think…she blames me for Daniel’s death.”
“She’s grieving,” he finally offered.
Nothing he said would ease her pain. It was a shame Muriel and Gracie’s shared love for Daniel and their grief over his death hadn’t pulled them together instead of ripping them apart.
“Will you have a problem if I teach Gracie how to fight?” It had sure seemed like it when Gracie asked him earlier.
“Probably.” She offered a hollow smile. “But I’ll keep myself in check. Gracie wants this. And our daughter is nothing if not determined.”
Our daughter…
Those two words first warmed and then chilled him.
Chapter twenty-two
Day 31
Shadow Mountain Base, Alaska
Wolf’s cell phone buzzed as he boarded the Chinook for the flight to San Francisco. He fished the device out of his tactical pants, expecting to see the name of someone from Shadow Mountain intelligence, or from the labs, lighting up the screen. Instead, the designationanistaa,screamed up at him.
His chest tightened beneath a wave of unease. Hisanistaawould not call unless something had happened, something important. He mind-linked the pilot, telling him to hold the bird, and turned back to the cargo door. Before his feet even hit the tarmac, the line was open, and the phone was at his ear.
“Ho'cee,”hisanistaa’svoice, calling him by his Kali name, came through the line. There was an odd note to it, one he did not recognize. His fingers clenched around the plastic casing.
“Has something happened?” He wanted to ask if the call regarded Jillian, if something had happened to hisle'ven'a,but his throat refused to squeeze the question out.
“Perhaps...” Her voice sounded uncertain, before it fell into silence.
“Tell me.” He braced himself. This call could not be good news. News about hisle’ven’awas never good.
“Jillian tells me we are needed at Shadow Mountain.” She stated each word with gravitas, as if they were filled with thewoohanta’sprecious gold.
Still, he was certain he’d misheard. “Jillian? Jillian told you this?”
“Yes.” Hisanistaasounded as confused as he was.
“Why?” This made no sense.
Did hisle'ven'aeven remember the base? She’d spent weeks here, true, but she’d drifted through each rotation—unaware, locked in her grief, one foot frozen in theTabenetha.Nothing he’d tried had reached her. And now she wanted to come back? Why?
“All she will say is that the screaming woman told her we must come. Now.”
“Who is this screaming woman?” The confusion sank deeper. None of this made sense.
Hisanistaa’shesitation was loud and long. “She does not say, but I believe she refers to her spiritheschrmal.” Another hesitation, shorter, but no less loud. “It visits her often.”
Wolf staggered beneath this new revelation. This did not happen. Ever. Once a spirit animal claimed theirHee'woo'nee,they vanished. They did not return.
“Her woodlands spirit animal continues to visit her?” The question was more wheezed than spoken. “Are you certain?”
