Branches for Cover: Legends of Kake Book 1

  Branches for Cover

  By Kate Kelley

  Copyright—2018 Kate Kelley

  Edited by C.H. Proofreading; fiverr.com/hcameron187

  Cover Image by © Anna Ivanova | Dreamstime.com

  Cover design by Kelley Book Covers; katekelleycourt@gmail.com

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  Publisher's Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  The Mouth of Daylight

  Kake, Alaska

  In the Mouth of Daylight, the sun was swallowed. A long, dark ripple cascaded across the water, a gray-indigo, several shades darker than the washed-out, Alaskan sky above. I knew the ripple wasn’t caused by a whale, but I’d sew my mouth shut before I’d tell anyone what I knew about Caddy or the other creatures that inhabited this remote village. Because I was one of those creatures.

  I ignored the behemoth and counted out fifty one-dollar bills before folding the thick wad of cash and slipping it into the back pocket of my worn, too-tight jeans. Not bad for a day’s quota share of the prized King Salmon.

  That’s why they pay me the big bucks.

  I snort-laughed at my little joke as I watched Caddy disappear silently with only a little blip on the surface of the sea. But fifty dollars for a day’s work wasn’t bad in Kake, not really, especially for an independent fisher like me. At least I didn’t have to take the trip to Petersburg to sell the fish—I had Simon to do that for me, and he would, because Simon knew I was the only one catching this much King Simon in Kake these days, and because he took a cut for delivering them to the fishery. And also, because I didn’t have an ATV to make the trip.

  That’s the thing about remote villages in Alaska—no roads to the outside world. Kake is a tiny, little southeastern Alaskan village on the northwest coast of Kupreanof Island in the Alexander Archipelago. The only way out or in was by air or boat. And I was stuck here, as surely as a moth pinned to an entomologist's board, but that’s precisely why I’d moved here two years ago. I hadn’t been found yet, and I wanted to keep it that way.

  A young mother nodded quietly at me as I passed down the dirt street passed dilapidated homes with stilts dug deep in the cold, packed mud. She thought I hadn’t noticed, but I saw her clutch her two small children a bit tighter as I passed. I pretended I hadn’t seen that, and that it hadn’t made my stomach flip with inexplicable guilt. They were weary of me, the Tlingit people here. And not because I wasn’t indigenous, though my bright, red hair and bone-white skin pulled plenty of looks, especially when I’d first arrived. But it was because they knew something about me—they sensed it. I wasn’t sure how they knew I was different, but they did. That didn’t matter. As long as they kept their mouths shut about me, we’d all get along just fine. I smiled and nodded pleasantly as I passed them, keeping my eyes off the children, for their mother’s sake.

  My cabin sat on the edge of a dense, dark-green forest, far away from the seaside clusters of homes. It was a mossback, small, functional, comfortable. It worked. My mother had built it properly, complete with a generator I rarely used and off-grid plumbing; and it had weathered the harsh climate for a couple decades as it sat vacated. The seven acres of forest behind it were all mine, too, and my personal hunting ground.

  Hunting, my only reprieve. I left the big guys alone—moose, caribou, bear, Sitka deer and, of course, the other Alexander Archipelago wolves, their coats dark and so unlike mine.

  I didn’t own a hunting license, or a gun for that matter, but that didn’t stop me. In fact, not much at all stopped me, nor any other law-breaking citizen in Kake. There was no local law enforcement, and with no roads—well, it would take a day or two before a police officer would show up for a murder, let alone a hunting violation. Not that I’d heard of any recent murders in Kake. As far as I knew, the last one had been my mother’s, twenty years ago.

  The hidden sun was long since down by the time I threw my cabin door open and sauntered in, immediately inhaling the thick scent of old woodsmoke and fireweed honey from last summer—I’d left a jar open on the table, I noticed.

  “That’s a surefire way to lure bears,” I mumbled with a laugh. I peeled off my jacket, slinging it onto the sofa. The flame of the hearth lit the place up like a cavern full of copper, the orange glow reflecting off the reds in beams of wood that made up the entire interior. I tugged my boots off, leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I thought about climbing up the ladder to my right to my loft bed and closing my eyes to the world, or maybe just sleeping right there. The sofa was comfortable enough...but then my stomach rumbled.

  I hadn’t eaten but one small salmon for breakfast, and now it was nightfall. Maybe I could just sleep through the hunger.

  It rumbled again, gurgling sharply.

  Damn.

  I already knew the fridge was empty—it was rarely used—and I’d eaten the last of the doughnuts last night. I stood and peeled off my shirt, my holey jeans that got stuck on my thighs on the way down, plucking the money from my back pocket and securing it in the chipped porcelain jar by the sugar, then got rid of my black underwear and bra, letting the clothes litter the thick ornamental rug at my feet. The flames warmed my bare skin, but I knew the night out there was cold. Kake was clinging to its last days of winter with an iron fist. Spring was around the corner, but an outsider wouldn’t know it. At least it wasn’t snowing.

  The worst part was that first blast when I had to open the door. My stomach rumbled again, loud enough to wake a sleeping predator a mile away tucked away in the forest. It was like my Wolf commanded my stomach these days, as was evident by my tight jeans. I’d have to get another pair if I kept up this incessant eating.

  I steeled myself, then ripped open the back door. The blast of frosted night air ripped through me, chilling all the way to my bones, and I shifted soon after, my fur covering me in warmth as I leapt into the night air, the door slamming shut behind me.

  By the time my paws touch the forest floor, my canines had pushed through my gums and my nose was on alert. I moved silently as I hunted for my dinner. Heady pine, fresh floral bulbs itching to thaw, and there, a gaminess. Caribou.

  Excitement lit within me, my Wolf following the path without much thought. Usually, I didn’t follow Caribou—they were too big. I wouldn’t take down something that big—not that I couldn’t—but I had common sense. I wouldn’t make it harder for myself than it had to be. But my Wolf wanted to stretch her legs, so I followed her.

  I leapt over a huge, fallen tree trunk and trotted on stealthily. To be honest, I hadn’t gone this far in the property. I’d usually already caug
ht several snacks by now, and would be full enough to go back home to bed. I saved time and money by hunting and eating this way rather than in my human form. Except for fresh fruit, doughnuts, and coffee—those I couldn’t quite give up.

  An owl hooted slowly, the sound piercing my ears like the lazy croon of a ballad, and I stilled. It sounded again, only this time it sounded like a woman’s scream. I couldn’t explain it—it was like the owl hoot transformed into a murderous shriek, or as if they were one in the same. My fur stood on end along my spine and I surged forward, listening for the sound again, but all was silent—too silent. Not the snap of a twig or the scuttle of a creature broke it.

  I caught a glimmer of movement five paces in front of me. I lowered myself to my belly, my ears slicked back, my eyes intent through the dark pillars of trees.

  It came out of its shroud, a giant, dark figure. Broken moonlight glided along its fur.

  Bear. Male.

  A huge one.

  He stopped and lifted his great snout, sniffing, black eyes glittering like still, endless pools. He caught my scent, lowered his nose, and turned fully toward me.

  I stood facing him, making myself known. I knew it wouldn’t have taken him long to find me if I ran, with my stark, white coat, and he’d already located me, so there was no point in trying to hide. We sized each other up. I could probably take him, if I tried. If I wasn’t so hungry and weak…

  Then again, bear might make an adequate meal.

  His black lips pulled back, revealing glinting, white teeth ready for gnashing bones to dust. I revealed my own, and a growl ripped from my throat.

  He grunted, taking a step toward me with one giant paw, claws flexed.

  I felt the sensation of sliding forward on a slick surface, even though I stood still. Moonlight broke through gauzy cloud and branch, and momentarily struck my eyes.

  First, I felt the cold, and then the wet.

  Why was I cold and wet?

  Confusion fogged up my thoughts like my breath on cold glass, but the bear was looming over me now, and so I jumped up, and nearly fell backward.

  I looked down at myself, blinking in shock. My eyes took a minute to adjust, and I touched my belly, smearing mud against my pale skin.

  Why the ever-living fuck am I back in human form?

  My mouth gaping, I jerked my eyes back up to the bear, and that’s when real fear stole my breath.

  I looked into his black eyes and took a cautious step back.

  What was it I was supposed to do? Lay down and cover the back of my neck and hope he goes away?

  I closed my eyes, willing the shift to move through me, turn me back into my Wolf.

  Nothing happened.

  No.

  The bear exhaled noisily, the size of him towering over my head by two feet. He would maul me. I wouldn’t be fast enough.

  For the first time in a long time, I had no idea what to do. I grappled with my options as the bear tilted its head to the side and bared its teeth again, the length of them as big as my face.

  The rumble of its growl surprised me—it was like a vibration through the forest floor and into my naked feet, all the way up my body. I trembled.

  Trembled, like a leaf in the wind.

  It’d been a long time since I’d trembled. Two years, in fact.

  And then the bear rose on its hind legs, and I knew I was a goner.

  That’s when my palms hummed, and I flicked my wrists toward the beast. Light erupted for a second across the forest like a flash of lightning, and my bones shook with the silent power. A feral roar sounded, grating on my eardrums.

  When the light faded, the bear was gone, leaving me alone and naked and—yep, still trembling—in the gloom of the midnight forest.

  Chapter 2

  The Human

  I slammed the dented box of chocolate-covered doughnuts down on the counter with a ten-dollar bill on top. The cashier, a woman with oversized, red glasses and cotton candy blue hair carefully took the bill and opened her cash drawer.

  I snatched the box of doughnuts and waved, my eyes trained on her bright, yellow hoodie. “Keep the rest…the, er, change,” I said as good-naturedly as I could, and the cowbell clanged loudly as I pushed myself out the door before she said anything.

  Why was I so awkward? I couldn’t even have a five second conversation with a cashier. I’d been alone for far too long. I glanced back through the cloudy glass of the shop and saw the cashier’s eyes squeezed shut as she laughed with another woman her age. They were probably laughing at me.

  My heart squeezed, more with longing than anger. What would it would feel like to have a girlfriend I could talk to, to laugh with? It’d probably be annoying. I bet they were just faking civility with each other.

  I walked down to the shore and planted myself on the coarse, wet sand, and opened the plastic box with a dull smacking sound. I sliced my finger on the edge of the clear plastic, cutting deep. “Ouchie.” I sucked the fresh pearl of blood that swelled up, and when it didn’t stop bleeding, I cursed and bit into a cheap, chocolate-glazed and preservative-packed pastry.

  It was delicious.

  I watched the water, as I always did, letting it lull and mesmerize me into a state of mindlessness, of complacency. It was the best psychotherapy treatment I was going to get in Kake. Plus: doughnuts.

  “That’s your third, Kinna. Are you really going to eat that whole box?”

  I turned halfway to glance at the newcomer, my mouth full. Simon grinned at me and wiped his forehead. He was sweating, and his dark, silky hair lapped it up along his hairline. His wide, dark eyes, dimples, and lean frame coming closer as he invited himself to sit next to me and plucked a doughnut out of my box.

  “Heh!” I shouted, trying to say ‘hey’ with a mouth full of sugared bread.

  Simon put the whole doughnut in his mouth and started chewing, his cheeks full to bursting.

  I scowled at him. “Are you trying to choke yourself to death?”

  He swallowed, somehow, and gestured toward my half-empty box of doughnuts. “Are you trying to eat yourself to death?”

  I indignantly plopped the box down on the sand, wiping my hands on my jeans and leaving little swipes of chocolate on the denim. “I didn’t eat dinner last night. I’m starving.”

  He eyed me up and down. “You aren’t starving.”

  I punched him, hard, in the arm. “Douche-sack.”

  “It’s douchebag,” he corrected with a guffaw, then stuffed another chocolate doughnut into his huge mouth, talking around his food. “I secretly like my women curvy. You’re good.”

  I rolled my eyes, silently berating him for sabotaging my self-help therapy. “Does a size ten constitute as curvy?” I asked, wiping chocolate from the corners of my lips.

  Simon shrugged again, eyeing my thighs. “I think you need to size up to a twelve, Kinna.”

  I punched toward him again, because he was right. He evaded the blow. “Anyhow, I don’t know what size counts as ‘curvy,’ other than curves themselves? Which you have in spades. Especially with that tiny waist.” He bit down on his lip, shook his head wistfully.

  “Simon…”

  I closed my eyes. I knew why he was being like this toward me. It was why I could only think about food. I wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. Simon was a bit of a hunk in the village, could have his pick of any of the pretty girls. Dark eyes, long lashes, a strong jaw, and dimples. He was definitely handsome, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about being with him, but acting on it wasn’t a choice I could make. It would ruin everything.

  He snorted. “Sorry. You know these girls I date. All lean muscle and little boy hips. You’re a little Scottish cupcake, comparatively.”

  I opened my eyes to see a distant course of languid water move with that telltale sign of moving beast: Caddy, again, the giant sea serpent. “A Scottish cupcake? I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean,” I sighed. I wasn’t completely sure what a cupcake was, but I did
n’t know if that was common knowledge or not, so I didn’t admit that.

  He leaned in, his breath sweet on my cheek. “It means you’d look good with nothing but frosting on.” Frosting, I knew.

  I punched him again in the bicep, this time faster so he wouldn’t evade it, and he groaned. “Damn, Kinna, I meant no disrespect. Fuck!” He rubbed his arm and I smiled, knowing he underestimated my strength. To be fair, I’d hit him with only a fourth of my strength. But he didn’t need to know that.

  “Why did you miss dinner?” he asked, catching me off guard.

  The bear flashed in my mind, all tooth and glittering, dark pools that were his eyes, the cold, raw fear, the blinding light of my power that I promised never to use again.

  I was in deep shit if anyone had seen that light. Felt the quake of power.

  “I...got caught up reading,” I managed. Which wasn’t entirely false. I did read last night, after I’d returned home, paced, double locked and bolted my doors, and checked the windows every five minutes for an hour.

  Simon raised his dark, manicured brows at me. “Did you steal more books from the library?”

  I eyed the remaining doughnuts in the box, feeling my stomach rumble again. “Can one steal books from a library? I thought they were for public consumption.”

  Simon folded his arms over his lean chest, glaring at me with just a smidge of reproach. “Kake’s library has been closed for twenty years. The books in there are probably not for public consumption.”

  “Yeah, well. Knowledge is free,” I murmured. The statement felt ironic, in a way, because knowledge about myself was certainly not free, and I didn’t give it out to anyone, not even to Simon. I wouldn’t sell that knowledge to anyone, let alone give it away. I thought again of the flash of blinding light, the power that rocketed through me, humming on the edge, so full, so untried for years, so anxious to roam. I really shouldn’t have done that. I should have just let the bear kill me.

  The silence then was only interrupted by the soft scrape of sea foam on coarse sand. Until Simon spoke, and my stomach wriggled with what felt like little fish.