Predatory
21: Sherwood Forest

SASHA POV

“Rika, are you sure we’re going the right way?” Zoe asks for at least the sixth time as we rumble down a poorly paved road that doesn’t look to be even two vehicles wide. I sincerely hope we don’t run into anyone going the opposite direction, although we haven’t seen any other vehicles since we turned off the main state route running through the last town we went through, about ten minutes ago.

“That’s what the GPS said, but it just lost signal,” Rika gripes. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“We have that map from the reservation confirmation email. I know we printed it before we left. Can you make heads or tails of it?”

“I’ll do my best. It’s been ages since I’ve actually had to read a map.”

“You, at least, have been around since before GPS existed! If I miss a turn because your memory is failing you in your old age—”

“I’m working on it!”

I trust Rika and Zoe with my life, but as I watch the trees outside our window, I’m getting antsy, too. This ‘Sherwood Forest’ archery range is more remote than I expected it to be, and further from Columbus than I thought it was from looking at the map. Wonder of wonders, my phone still has a bar of signal.

Are your friends freaking out? Angel and Effie aren’t loving how remote this is.—Nikki

A few seconds later, my phone buzzes with Drake’s reply. Rika and Zoe don’t seem to hear it; they’re still bickering about the map and the directions.

Nah. This feels more or less like home to us. Just different trees.—Drake

I guess I should have expected that. He did say they’re from northern Maine, and Rika’s research has revealed that there’s not a whole lot of human civilization out there.

Zoe suddenly turns off onto a road that’s not even paved, just dirt and gravel, which does little to calm my nerves.

“Whoa! What the heck?! This can’t be legal,” Rika protests as we bump and bounce along. Our WASP-issued SUV was not exactly designed for off-roading.

“The condition of the road, or the fact that I’m driving on it?” Zoe retorts through teeth clenched as tightly as her hands on the steering wheel.

“More the condition of the road, but I don’t love that you’re driving on it—”

“YOU TOLD ME TO TAKE THIS TURN!”

“THAT’S WHAT THE MAP SAYS!”

“Oh, look. A sign for Sherwood Forest Archery Range,” I mumble, watching the sign bounce past my window. “We must be going the right way, then.”

Neither of them hears me. They’re too busy arguing with each other, which is fine, I suppose, as my phone buzzes again.

You ladies doing all right?—Drake

I think so. We just passed a sign for Sherwood Forest on this bumpy dirt/gravel road. Are you guys already there?—Nikki

Just parked. Warehouse looking building. Can’t miss it. They painted trees on it to try to make it less obtrusive, but it still sticks out like a sore thumb.—Drake

Zoe takes us around a sharp turn, and there’s ‘Sherwood Forest’ in all its…glory. True to Drake’s word, there are cheesy cartoon trees painted on its shipping-container-style walls. The enormous, bright red truck we’ve seen the guys with before is parked in the dirt patch in front of the building, and Zoe pulls in next to it, grumbling curses under her breath.

“I’d hoped we would arrive before them. Have some time to scope the place out and stuff,” she mutters.

“You and me both,” I agree grimly. “But this still shouldn’t be anything we can’t handle. We’re far enough from civilization that even if a problem does come up, nothing should be off the table for resolving it.”

“I wish we could get your panther nose to verify that for us,” Rika worries.

“How many times do I have to tell you, melanistic leopard. Panthers don’t exi—”

“Oh, shut it. Let’s go. The guys are waiting for us.”

She’s right; while we’ve been talking, the guys have jumped out of their truck and are standing around expectantly. Without further comment, I hop out of the SUV and slip around the front of it, hoping to connect with Drake without talking to the other two initially.

“Hey! You made it,” he smiles as I come into view. Xander’s saying something to Zoe at the same time, but I’m not paying him any mind. Drake looks pretty good in lumberjack flannel.

“Effie’s a great driver. I don’t know that I would have gotten here on my own,” I answer in kind, although I definitely could have found my way here alone, if I’d had to. “Are you ready for this?”

“I’m excited to check it out. Callum says Sherwood Forest is the highest rated archery range in the state.”

“Pulling out all the stops, then? You shouldn’t have.”

“Wasn’t my decision, but even if it was, I wouldn’t want to settle for less than the best.”

“Oy, lovebirds! You comin’, or you just gonna talk the whole time?” Xander jeers in our general direction. I barely suppress an eye roll.

“We’re coming,” I answer, smooth and a little sultry. “Just waiting for all of you to get your acts together.” He’s not worth the irritation I would have to endure to get any information from him, so I breeze past him, expecting that Drake will follow me and the rest will be close behind. Xander’s watching me. I can feel it. I wonder how Drake will—

“Hey!” Xander yelps, and I dart a glance behind to see him rubbing his shoulder and Drake glowering at him.

“Sorry,” Drake shrugs casually, his tone a stark contrast with the warning in his eyes. A knot forms and tightens in my stomach. I wish there was another way. I hope, when it’s all said and done, he can forgive me. No use worrying about that now. I have to focus on the task at hand, which for now is pretending I haven’t spent more than half my life mastering every type of weapon and combat technique in existence. Archery isn’t my favorite, but I’m no slouch with a bow.

“Let’s see what this place has to offer, then,” I mutter to myself as I push the doors to Sherwood Forest open, revealing a lobby area that smells of dog and tobacco. Someone’s tried to furnish it as a mockup of a backwoods cabin, complete with wood paneling over the corrugated steel walls, woven woolen rugs on the concrete floor, and mounted animal heads staring down at us between the racks of compound bows and crossbows. Across from the entrance I’ve just come through, with Drake close behind me, there’s a blanket hanging over what must be a hallway into the rest of the building. To our left, a grizzled gentleman stands behind a well-worn counter, re-fletching an arrow.

“How can I help ye?” he greets us as the rest of our group comes through the doors.

“Um, reservation for six under Laroque?” Callum replies. Might as well let him sort it out.

“This looks promising,” Drake remarks, sidling up to me as I look at the weapons on the wall, trying to decide which one might give me any sort of difficulty.

“If you say so. I’ve never been to a place like this before,” I answer softly, which is true; WASP training camps are nothing like this.

“Wait. You’ve never—”

“I’ve handled a bow a few times. Just not in a converted warehouse in the middle of nowhere.”

“I’mma need all o’ yous t’sign these waivers,” the man behind the counter directs, shoving half a dozen clipboards in our general direction. I take one and retreat to a corner near the hallway. Footsteps. And that smell—

An enormous, fluffy dog bursts out from behind the blanket over the hallway, leaping straight for Drake.

“Whoa there! Down, Wigglesworth!” the grizzled gentleman commands.

“Wigglesworth?” Drake laughs as he catches the dog’s massive paws in his hands. Makes it look easy. That dog is well over 50 kilograms. “Down, boy. That’s it. Who’s a good boy?”

The dog, now standing on its own four paws, wags its tail so enthusiastically, as Drake scratches him around the ears, that his entire rear end shakes back and forth, bumping the counter and the wall behind him. I can’t help smiling; Wigglesworth and Drake both look extremely happy with this turn of events, and their joy is contagious.

“Now, y’see, that there’s why,” Wigglesworth’s owner points at the dog’s rapidly shaking behind. “Never seen a dog get so excited about attention ’fore we adopted that one.”

“Quite a specimen of a Saint Bernard,” Xander remarks. “How old is he?”

“Can’t be quite sure. Shelter didn’t know, where we got ’im from. But he’s a big one. Wouldn’t hurt a fly on purpose, but he don’t know quite how big he is.” I slip my clipboard back across the counter to him, filled out with all of Nikki’s personal information. “There we go, thank y’all kindly. I’ll just get these waivers filed and we’ll get yous set up with yer equipment. Y’all wanna shoot inside or outside?”

“Outside, for sure,” Zoe speaks for all of us.

“Absolutely, yeah. Weather’s great for it,” Callum agrees. Perfectly fine with me. The dog smell is starting to get overwhelming in here, between Wigglesworth and these lycans.

“No problem. Let’s just get y’alls set up with yer equipment. How many of you’s wanting compound bows?”

I raise my hand, and Drake, Callum, and Rika follow suit. Wigglesworth, having lost Drake’s attention, bounds over to Xander and shoves his face into the lycan’s crotch, making Xander jump back. His mohawk catches on the deer antler chandelier, rending itself askew. Rika’s eyes meet mine across the room; she’s trying just as hard as I am not to laugh.

“Good, good,” Wigglesworth’s owner continues, paying no mind to Xander’s hair tragedy. “And y’other two must be wantin’ crossbows?”

“That would be ideal, if you don’t mind,” Zoe smiles charmingly.

“Yes, please,” Xander mutters at the same time, preening his mohawk back into shape.

“A crossbow would be easier for you, probably,” Drake says softly, near my ear.

“If you’re as good at teaching archery as you are at teaching martial arts, I shouldn’t have any problems,” I reply, sweet as sugar. “I’ve at least done this a few times before.”

His face reddens and he fumbles for words for a second. “I, uh, all right then. If you’re sure.”

“I’m not worried about it at all.”

Fortunately for Drake’s nerves, Wigglesworth’s owner—he’s not wearing a name tag and hasn’t introduced himself—comes over to us at that moment, laden with compound bows and arrows.

“Y’all’ve done this before?” he asks as he gives each of us a handful of arrows and a bow.

“Yes, thank you. What’s the range like outside?” I inquire.

“Hay bales in lanes marked on the grass with spray paint. Move ’em as far out as you wants ’em, and put these onto ’em.” He hands each of us a paper target with the outline of a deer on it, vital organs marked with concentric circles. “Bales got clips for targets on the twine. Yous should be all set. Head on out there—out the way you came in and around the building to the right—but don’t start shootin’ ’til we get all y’alls set up.”

“Sounds good. Thank you so much,” Drake replies, and then together we exit the building, leaving our friends behind.

“Wigglesworth certainly took a liking to you,” I tease him as we round the building.

“Yeah, um…. That happens a lot. They tend to be drawn to us because of…well, you know. Speaking of…I suppose it’s time for me to guess again, about you?”

“Whenever you want. I don’t think we’re in any sort of hurry today, are we?”

“No rush. I’m just…curious. So. How do you feel about snakes?”

“If you’re being literal, I don’t like them, but I’m not afraid of them or anything. Figuratively speaking, though, there’s nothing worse than—”

“I was being literal. Guess that’s strike two for me, then.”

A serpentine shifter? Really?

“What led you to that idea, if I may ask?”

“You have a very…fluid way of moving. But I’m glad that guess was wrong, personally.”

“Not a fan of snakes, either?”

“Not even a little bit.”

I smile to cover the predictable stab of guilt in my gut. Much as he seems to like me now, he’ll hate me if he ever learns the truth about me.

That doesn’t matter, though. He’s just another target. Another obstacle put in my path by Anselm.

Except that, under most circumstances, the ‘obstacles’ Anselm throws at me can’t be considered innocent by WASP standards after so many days on a mission. In fact, more often than not, my targets are utterly lacking in redeeming qualities.

“So, uh, you willing to share a lane with me?” Drake invites, his expression hopeful. “It doesn’t look like there’s enough for each of us to have our own.”

“Of course. Should make it easier for you to keep me from hurting anyone with these,” I joke, ignoring the pain this facade inflicts on my ego. Why couldn’t he have taken a liking to Rika or Zoe?!

For both of our sakes, I hope something turns up today to tip the scales of justice for Drake in one direction or another. Whether they do or not, though, this stands to be a long afternoon.

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