*Wow, thank you all so much for the positive words and feedback! It's been very encouraging. Here is chapter two, I made it a little longer but I know it still might not be long enough for some of you. I'll try to make longer chapters in the future. Again, any comments would be appreciated.*
Chapter 2: The Past Comes Calling
A knock at the door jerked Roland out of his sleep. Springing from the couch, he shook his head slightly to quell the dizziness caused by standing up so quickly. In two steps he was at the front door, wrenching it open in order to keep the visitor from knocking again.
Roland was barely able to conceal his surprise. "Arden," he muttered by way of greeting. "What brings you here?"
Arden raised an auburn eyebrow. "I'm not here to make a social call, if that's what you're worried about," he said, his hazel eyes drifting over Roland's shoulder into the cabin. "Do you mind if we take this inside?" he asked.
Frowning, Roland stepped aside to let the other man in. He knew there had to be something wrong if the others were even bothering to contact him. Arden strode past him, ignoring the couch and instead choosing to lean against the kitchen counter. "Not staying long, I take it," Roland said, shutting the front door behind him.
"No," Arden replied. "I've just been sent here to brief you."
Sighing, Roland studied the man who was acting as a liaison. He'd known Arden since they were both very young; growing up, they had been nearly inseparable. That is, until the incident. And then no one could get close to Roland again. He wouldn't let them.
Arden Langley was very tall, almost taller than Roland. But where Roland was bulky and muscular, Arden was long and lean. A shock of dark red hair curled down to his ears, and his sharp green eyes sat above a nose made crooked from one too many fist fights. He had his sinewy arms crossed over his chest now, taking the stance of a man who was fulfilling a duty he wasn't necessarily comfortable doing.
"What do you have to tell me, Arden?" Roland said wearily, raking a large hand through his tangled dark hair. "It's too early in the day for any of their bullshit."
Arden smirked. "It ain't that early, sunshine," he said, nodding toward the window. "It's noon. You been sleeping all day?"
Roland snarled. He wasn't in the mood to deal with this. He had other things to tend to. Like Molly. "Don't make me repeat myself," he rumbled.
The grin slipped from Arden's face. "There's reason to believe we have an intruder."
Roland rolled his eyes. "So what, now," he said, brushing past Arden into the kitchen. "Wolfsbane Range is off limits? Can't have hikers, campers, or tourists?"
Arden reached out, gripping Roland by the forearm. "Don't be so hostile, Rolly, this is serious." Roland grimaced at the use of his childhood nickname. What was the saying? he wondered briefly. Familiarity breeds contempt? "Get to the point," he growled, yanking his arm from Arden's grasp.
Crossing his arms again, Arden set his mouth into a thin line. He waited a beat or two before he spoke again. "There have been bodies, Roland, found fairly recently," he said. "Bodies that have been mauled and torn apart. Only one or two so far, but...."
Roland snorted. "Sounds to me like you have a rogue on your hands," he interrupted, turning his back on his company and opening the refrigerator. His stomach ached with hunger. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had anything substantial to eat.
"Would you stop?" Arden snapped, smacking his hand down onto the marble countertop. The few dishes that rested atop it shook slightly from the vibrations. "This isn't anything perpetrated by one of us. This is the work of an outsider."
"How do you know, Sherlock?" Roland answered as he whirled around, his eyes narrowed. Who gave a shit if it was noon? It was still to early in the day to deal with this. "You have proof? You called in CSI? More importantly, why are you telling me?" His temper, which had been lying so close to the surface since he'd answered the door, was now at its boiling point. "What the fuck do I care if there's something going on? I don't run with any of you anymore!"
Arden flinched as though he'd been slapped. "Don't you get it?" he asked incredulously. "There are people being murdered, and someone's making it look like we've done it. This affects us all, whether you want to acknowledge it or not."
"I don't get what this has to do with me," Roland said, leaning on his knuckles as he braced himself across from Arden. His silvery eyes were flashing dangerously. "Haven't I told you time and again to leave me be?"
Arden straightened, his broad shoulders stretching the material of his blue sweater. "People will start to believe the myths about these mountains," he said. "They'll recirculate old stories, they'll retell those legends. Everyone will be spooked. And they'll come looking for us." He breathed in deeply, anger tinting his normally amiable mien. "We'll all be hunted. Including you."
The warning was not lost on Roland. The idea of someone coming after him, of running him out of his home... the thought alone made him want to rip out a throat. "So why are you really here, Arden?" he asked flatly. "Did they send you to recruit me?"
Arden sighed. Clearly this was the part of the conversation he'd been least looking forward to. "Any help you could give us would be appreciated, Roland..." he began.
"Fuck that," Roland said, gnashing his teeth. "Fuck. That. You are on your own."
Nodding, Arden turned to leave. "I expected that might be your response," he said over his shoulder. Opening the door, he had one foot on the front step when he turned and looked back toward Roland. "In that case, friend," he said, ignoring the scowl on Roland's face at the use of that word. "Please. Be careful." He shut the door quietly behind him.
