Cannery Row Novels & Stories

Chapter 42: A Wedding Night Rowan slowed down as the sound of flowing water intensified. He was strolling towards the twinkling lights on the bank of the river. I circled my arms around his neck, brushing gently to calm the rising impatience in his heart. There was a cute tiny fale in front of the river, decorated with dim lights and flowers. Rowan whimpered casually, looking back at me while approaching the bank of the river. “I loved it, it’s beautiful.” He shook his head as I understood what he said and he sat down. I got down from his back, he started licking my face. I couldn’t stop laughing at his behavior.

Frank nodded once, accepting the agreement without a smile, just a shared understanding that neither of them was the priority right now. Rowan squinted through the windshield, recognizing the landmarks as the road narrowed and streetlights spaced out. "We’re getting close... This is East Curneil." He glanced at the GPS, though he wasn’t really paying attention, scanning the area with a focused intensity. "Now we just need to find that workshop." Frank straightened, tension creeping back into his shoulders. "Just tell me what you need me to do." Rowan hesitated for a moment, slowing the car as he spotted clusters of old industrial buildings looming in the moonlight.

It was how casually he’d revealed it, how unbothered he seemed. That night, Rowan couldn’t stay in the penthouse. He drove for hours, looping the city until exhaustion threatened to blind him. He ended up on the coastal road, headlights sweeping the place where the bridge still bore scars of flame. He parked, stepped out, and leaned against the rail. The river rushed below, dark and endless. Somewhere in those depths Cassian had disappeared.

“Where are you going?” “To the quarry” “Huh?” “Your brothers are about to kill each other!” But it looks like there's gonna be a storm!” “Trust me, I have bigger storms going on!” “What?!” But Selena was already out of earshot. Rowan's old wooden pickup truck was carefully parked under the shed of an oak tree. The truck smelled of vegetation and old paper. Very peculiar indeed. There were pine needles punched in the seat next to her. Dried flowers and old sketchbooks on the dashboard. Crumpled sheet music littered the seat. A whole world of his quiet artistry pressed against her panic.

Emara Dell POV Rogue Cabin Day Two I woke to the smell of eggs sizzling in a pan and Rowan muttering something about “needing more salt but also not wanting to walk outside and freeze his gay nipples off.” It made me smile before my eyes even opened. Sunlight spilled through the cabin window, pale and soft, and the fire from last night still burned low in the hearth. My body felt… different. Lighter. More aware. Like every muscle had been tuned to the exact frequency of the earth.

Rowan's pov The Whitefang definitely knew how to turn plain to ethereal. Waking up this morning and leaving my room, I was greeted by something straight out of a storybook. The entire pack was carved into the side of a gentle hill surrounded by pale birch trees. Ivy-wrapped cottages lined cobbled streets, and their rooftops sparkled with enchantments,tiny glowing charms that flickered like fireflies. A canal system ran through the lower half of the village, with little wooden boats drifting lazily beneath arched bridges, and wind chimes sang in the breeze from every corner.

It’s adrenaline that makes me begin rowing. I get close enough to the Level Zero Island but as soon as I cross it, the fog becomes thick. My hands are damp, and my arms are throbbing as I push the oar, hoping to make it to the mainland. Whatever this place is, I want no part of it. As I keep rowing, I recall the scar on the wolf’s head and the scar on Veronica’s head. I want to tell myself that I’m imagining things, but there are too many coincidences here, too many things which don’t match up. And the more I think about them, the more I get a headache.

He's happy that they finally have a plan and all it took was one walk in a forest with a complete stranger. "I'll fill Caleb in" Marcel bid her goodbye before quickly walking off in the direction of the town hall where Caleb's office was. She looked around to see if she could spot Leo or Miles or even Toby but no one of the young boys were around. She sighed to herself realising just how alone she felt in this place she hardly knew anybody. It was an odd feeling. With only one option left Rowan turned back around and headed out the gates once again. She originally had all the intention of going home to somewhere familiar where she could relax for just a moment but as she found herself walkin

“Better than freezing in the car.” The cabin appeared through the white like a ghost—low, square, logs darkened by decades of weather, a single window glowing faintly from the solar lamp Rowan kept charged inside. He killed the engine, shouldered his pack, and came around to her door. When she stepped out, the snow stung her face. Rowan caught her elbow, steadying her as they fought the twenty yards to the porch.

Cassian did not answer for half a mile. "I know where he has taken her," he said. I pulled up so hard the mare objected. "You have known since the Temple stair." "I have known since the copyist's shop, which is worse, because I did not know I knew it until you said nine." He was not looking at me. He had gone somewhere behind his own face again. "Rowan has one place in the world he does not describe to anybody. He has never described it to me and I have known him since I was six years old. It is not a house. It is a camp."