Death Cache by Helmer Tiffinie

Author:Helmer, Tiffinie [Helmer, Tiffinie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: The Story Vault
Published: 2013-11-26T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Inside the box were six dead arctic terns, their beautiful white and black-tipped wings displayed like fans as though still in flight.

Tern stood there in shock. This couldn’t be real. What kind of sick bastard could have done this? She swayed and then locked her knees.

The arctic tern was her namesake, her spirit totem.

“Son of a bitch,” Gage said, moving over to wrap an arm around Tern.

“This is sick,” Robert said, backing away from the grisly contents of the box. “We are dealing with a really sick puppy here.”

“You just now getting that idea?” Tern asked. Her voice broke.

“Everyone keep your wits,” Gage said. “There might be a note inside—”

“I’m not touching anything in that box,” Robert said. “You want to dive in there, be my guest.”

“I thought you were a hunter?” Gage scoffed. “Dead animals shouldn’t gross you out.”

“This is creepy. I don’t do creepy.” Robert stepped farther back as though the box would explode any moment.

Nadia rejoined them, but stood off to the side. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to act like such a girl.” She rubbed a hand up and down Tern’s arm. “You okay?”

Tern straightened her spine. “I’ll have to be.” They’d already figured out that this whole invite had to do with her, but this was the most personal evidence of it.

Gage found a stick. At least the birds had been dead long enough not to be mushy, Tern thought. No maggots squirmed around the dead carcasses. They were just dried husks of their former free selves. Gage used the stick to move the birds around.

“Who cares what else is in there?” Robert said. “I say leave it. Even if there was something worth keeping, who would want it?”

“Stop! There.” Tern pointed. “Oh no. How?” Her voice failed. She dropped to her knees alongside the box, reached in and carefully picked up the intricate hand-carved ivory arctic tern. Tears choked her as she clutched the little ivory tern to her chest, right over her heart, and began to rock back and forth as tears ran hot and unchecked down her face.

“Tern, honey, what is it?” Gage wrapped both arms around her and held her close to him. “Come on, baby, talk to me.”

She heard the worry in his voice but how could she reassure him when her life was so upside down?

Gage picked her up and carried her to a fallen log. “Nadia, cover that up.” He sat down and cradled her on his lap. “Tern, tell me what’s wrong.”

What’s wrong? Everything was wrong. So horribly wrong. “This is mine.”

“Can you let us see it?”

Carefully, she moved her hands in front of her. Cradled in her palms was her priceless arctic tern, carved in flight, its wings out to catch the wind’s kisses–her father’s name for thermals. Terns were the foremost migratory bird on the planet, traveling from the Arctic to the Antarctic and back every year. They spent more time in flight than on the ground, which her father had said explained Tern’s compulsive need to always be doing something.

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