Zander had bought these sandwiches; he hadn’t made them. A deli somewhere had put together the chewy bread, whole-grain mustard, pile of meat. Rae found a label inside one of the folds that read Marny’s Fine Sandwiches.
The sun finally disappeared as they ate, but the light lingered, the June sky through the small windows showing a dusky twilight. Not a sound came from outside except the creaking of the boat and the soft slap of water against the hull.
“Is it always this quiet out here?” Rae asked, unnerved by the immensity of the stillness.
“Yep,” Zander answered. “Isn’t it great?” He chewed his third sandwich, clearing off a space on the bench on the opposite wall to sit down.
“It’s noisy in Shiftertown.” Rae heard the wistfulness in her voice. “My brothers are always banging around, yelling at each other, then my dad yelling at them. Shifters are out in the neighborhood every night, prowling or playing with their cubs or just talking. Even in the deep cold, we’re out in Shifter form, enjoying the snow.”
She broke off. Zander had stopped eating and was staring at her as though she were the crazy one. He grunted. “Sounds peachy.”
“Why do you want to be alone?” Rae asked. “With no one? If Eoin and Daragh—our Guardian—hadn’t found me when I was a cub, I’d have died. Being alone isn’t a good thing.”
Zander’s dark eyes fixed on her, a spark in them she couldn’t decipher. “It’s different for us. The Guardians, the healers, the empaths. Being with Shifters is more than just noisy; it’s noisy in here.” He tapped the side of his head. “I can’t shut out the pain, the fear, the grief when all my fucking Goddess powers can’t save someone. I need the solitude to recover.”
He spoke in a hard voice but matter-of-fact. Rae heard the frustration in him, anguish he tried to keep under control.
“Is that why you’re out here right now?” Rae asked.
“Yeah. And I don’t want to talk about it, don’t want to open up and discuss my feelings. I just want to fish and drink and get on with my life.”
“That’s all I want—to get on with my life,” Rae said, swallowing her last bite of roast beef. The sandwich had been tasty. “Instead, the stupid sword picked me up off my feet and waved me around. Now everyone either thinks I’m a Guardian or a fraud and I’m stuck out here eating sandwiches in a sty of a boat with a crazy man.”
Zander frowned at her a few seconds longer, then a grin split his face and deep laughter filled the cabin. The laughter rattled the windows and wrapped around Rae, warming her in spite of herself.
“Yeah, you are screwed, Little Wolf.” Zander’s eyes crinkled, his whole body shaking. He didn’t look as scary when he laughed.
“Not if you call my dad and tell him to come back here and get me.”
“Love to.” Zander got to his feet, wadding up his sandwich wrapper. He popped open the lid of a plastic garbage can and tossed it inside.
He actually had a garbage can. Rae had to admit that while the cabin was cluttered and in disarray, it wasn’t dirty. She saw no dust, grease, or grime. Her Shifter nose would have detected any foul scents but nothing here made her hackles rise. There was just a lot of . . . stuff.
“I go to bed when I feel like it,” Zander was saying. “Get up when I want to. I don’t pay attention to what time it is.”
No clocks were around, that was for sure. Rae had her cell phone but for some reason she didn’t want to fish it out and check the time.
“Where do I sleep?” she asked, looking around. There wasn’t a spare surface except the bed in the bow, the door in front of it half closed.
Zander stepped across to what Rae had assumed were cabinets set above the bench on one wall. He slid a door open to reveal a futon stretched inside of it, about Rae’s length. “I have sheets around here somewhere. Maybe.”
Rae stared at the narrow cabinet, then at him. “You want me to sleep in there? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’d give you my bed but I’m way too big for the bunk. And if we sleep together, your dad will come back and cut off my balls.” Zander waved his hand at the cabinet. “You’re a wolf. Pretend it’s your den.”
Rae growled. “Seriously, you are . . . Never mind. I’ll sleep outside.”
She grabbed at the futon, intending to pull it out of the cabinet and drag it up on deck, but it got stuck in the narrow opening. Rae wrestled with it, more and more frustrated, until she was screaming through her teeth.
“Let it go, Little Wolf.”
Zander’s growl flowed around her and his strong hands stilled hers. His bulk was at her back, the warmth of it seeping into her and calming what roiled inside her.
“You take the bed.” His words vibrated through her as he tucked the futon back into the cabinet. “I’ll sleep up top.” He opened a cabinet next to the bunk and extracted a blanket. “If you want clean sheets . . . hunt around. They’re here somewhere.”
“It’s cold outside,” Rae said quickly. “I’m sure we can fix something up. I could put the futon on the floor . . .”
He was giving her the you’re-insane-and-don’t-know-it look again. “I’m a polar bear.” Zander tapped his chest. “I like the cold.”
He snatched up his coat, flung the blanket around his shoulders, and ducked out into the twilit night.
Rae heard his heavy tread as he climbed up to the pilot house, where he’d no doubt hunker in one of the chairs. She imagined him, wrapped in coat and blanket, staring out across the ocean with his enigmatic eyes.
Rae did find sheets in the cupboard under the bed, which was a cushioned platform in the narrowing front of the boat that could be closed off by a sliding door. She shook the sheets out over the mattress that was mercifully free of junk, neatly tucking them in. She added a blanket then pulled off her boots and climbed onto the bed.
A hum filled the cabin behind her. Rae swung back on her knees to see the Sword of the Guardian lying across the bench where she’d left it. The hilt sparkled in the dim lamplight, the runes etched on it shining with their own light. The music of it filled Rae’s ears, its pitch rising as the hum increased.
The sound would never shatter glass, she knew, because it wasn’t really making noise. No one could hear it but her.