by Bella Jacobs
“They could only pin one of the deaths on me, and that was the one with witnesses willing to testify that he’d jumped me first.” He shrugs. “I did seven years inside, and I’ll be going back if the cops catch up with us. I was only out on parole for a few weeks before the L.A. pack motherfuckers jumped me on my way to work and threw me in a van. They shot me up with something, and I woke up chained in your basement.”
“Not my basement,” I clarify. “Before I came down the stairs to meet you, that basement and I were total strangers.”
“You’re funny,” he says, his eyes as flat as his voice.
I bite the inside of my lip as I tear off another piece of muffin top. “You’re hard to read.”
“Something you learn in prison. Never let ’em see you sweat or smile or anything else. Best way to stay out of the fucking drama.” Luke wads his sandwich wrapper into a ball and tosses it at the trash can six feet away at the next picnic table over. It lands perfectly inside, disturbing the swarming flies, sending them buzzing in dizzy circles before they resettle on what looks like the remains of a rotisserie chicken.
He shifts his attention back to me, “So let’s get real with each other before the rest of them get out here, all right?”
I nod, anxiety prickling across my skin as I hurry to finish chewing the bite of muffin already in my mouth. “What’s on your mind?”
“From what I’ve heard so far, it sounds like the only way to complete your mission is to kill this Atlas guy, is that right?”
I pull in a deep breath and exhale. “Yes, but I’m hoping we can find another way.”
“Like what? Supernatural bad guy jail? Because I’m pretty sure that doesn’t exist. At least, not a jail prepared to hold a guy who can shapeshift into over a thousand different forms and counting.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. Everything is so new to me right now. I’m going to need time and more information to have any real idea of what is possible and what isn’t.” Sitting up straighter, I add, “But I’m determined to proceed with as much compassion and empathy as possible. Violence isn’t the antidote to violence. If we have to fight to survive, we will, but as soon as the fight is over, we’re going to show our enemies mercy. That’s what separates the good guys from the bad guys.”
Luke’s eyes glitter. “That’s what separates the living from the dead, chica. You leave enemies like that alive, and they’ll come back to stab you in your sleep. With an enemy like that, you take him out. Then you take out anyone who ever swore loyalty to the bastard. Then, if you’re really serious about shutting that shit down, you take his kids away and send them somewhere else to grow up, somewhere far away where they will never learn the story of what happened to their dear old dad and decide fucking up the people who killed him sounds like a good idea.”
Jaw clenched, I shrug. “None of that is on my agenda.”
“It should be.”
“I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“And I guess you’re deciding to lay down and die before you even get started.” He stands, untangling himself from the bench with languid movements at odds with his harsh words. “And in that case, I’m not interested in signing up for long-term service. I’ll train you and help you and your boys get across the border. Then I’m out.”
I frown as I nod. “All right. That’s your choice.”
He turns his head, studying me from the corners of his eyes. “But you’ll make sure Harry Potter keeps his promise? That I get a Canadian passport and everything else I’ll need to start over as someone new north of the border?”
“Harry Potter, huh?” I shift my gaze as Dust, Kite, and Creedence amble off the market’s front porch and start across the lawn toward us. “No glasses, but I can see a resemblance. Did you like the movies?”
“The books were better,” Luke says.
I glance back at him, brows lifting. “You read them all?”
“Twice. I had a lot of time to kill the past few years.” His dark eyes narrow. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes, I’ll do everything I can to make sure Dust keeps his promise. But you have to remember that I’m not the one in charge here, Luke.”
He smiles for the first time in memory, a wide grin that transforms his face into something almost boyishly handsome. “Oh, yes you are, chica,” he says, with a soft laugh. “You are absolutely in charge. And the sooner you realize it, the better. For everyone involved.”
Before I can argue with him—or ask him to explain himself—the others arrive, and Dust asks, “Everything all right out here?”
“Everything’s fine,” I say, watching Luke’s expression darken once more. I make a mental note to ask Dust the next time we’re alone to stop treating Luke like a second-class citizen and stand, wadding what’s left of my muffin in my fist. “But I’m ready to get going, how about you?”
“No sense wasting daylight,” Kite agrees. “The sooner we get moving, the sooner we’ll be somewhere safe where we can get showers and a real meal.”
“Sounds wonderful.” I draw my arm back, tossing my trash at the same bin Luke scored on a few minutes ago. But I don’t expect to get anywhere close. I’ve never played sports and I can freely admit that I “throw like a girl,” though Carrie Ann, a star softball pitcher, would have a fit if she heard me say that.
But to my surprise, the muffin ball finds its target, sending the increasingly large swarm of flies frothing into the air with irritation as it lands in the can.
“I made it!” I thrust my arms into the air, a grin breaking out across my face as I turn back to my companions. “I never make the basket. Never, not once in my entire life.”
“Your life is changing fast, Slim,” Creedence says, a smile on his face. “Best open up your mind and get used to all kinds of exciting new developments.”
He’s right. I do need to open my mind. But as we head down to the marina to hook up with a trail leading farther up the coast, I vow to keep some parts of my self on lockdown.
I don’t care what Luke or anyone else says—I refuse to violate the beliefs that are most sacred to me.
Hank always said that “if you stand for nothing, you’ll fall for anything.”
In this new world, with so much coming at me every minute, standing for what I believe in may be the only thing I can count on to keep my head above water.
Chapter 24
The Swarm
We rise from the trash bin, lifting higher in the air to watch the girl and her four marked men cross the lawn toward the path. Seeing her now, it’s impossible to fathom how we didn’t sense her sooner. How we were ever fooled by the pretender we’ve been hunting unsuccessfully for so long.
She glows with power.
Burns with it.
Rays of energy stream out from beneath her skin to pierce the continuum, making her shine like a star.
We could see her from the highest mountain.
From the moon.
But soon, she will take mates whose auras will cloud hers, smearing it thin, making it harder to track, to find and pluck her out before she metastasizes. Soon she will have other powers, other forms that will make it impossible to pinpoint her kin shape in the sea of shifters over-populating this corner of the world.
The raccoon is right.
Best to give her to the doctor now.
It means we forfeit the power to be gained by consuming that bright, blazing light, but better…
What is the phrase? The one the little beast used?
Better to be safe than to be sorry. Yes, that’s it.
We buzz approvingly as the cowering young one crawls on her belly from beneath the bin, trembling and wringing her small black paws as she gazes up at us with bright marble eyes. Her kin form is pleasing, but her human form leaves much to be desired.
She prefers women, she talks too loudly, and she turned on her comrades only a few days into her torture, just forty-eight hours after being pulled, half-drowned, from the riv
er.
The fact that she bears the mark of a possible mate wasn’t enough to tempt us into keeping her alive. But she has proven useful these past few days.
She had the connections that allowed us to learn of the planned attack. She had the knowledge that led to the swift assassination of those providing the girl and her men with financial and tactical assistance.
And she will contact the doctor and give him our blessing to proceed.
By this time tomorrow, the baby Fata Morgana’s light will be snuffed out, and we will be peerless once more.
Unrivaled. Matchless. Unequaled…as it should be.
We are pleased.
We communicate this to the fawning creature below us, slipping the thought easily into her malleable mind as we rise higher—higher and higher until we reach the air above the clouds and allow the breeze to carry us north, back to our stronghold where the rest of us waits on the throne, ready to return to business as usual.
Chapter 25
Wren
We cut away from the coast and into a cool redwood forest, stopping only once to drink from a crystal-clear stream before pushing on toward our destination. It seems we’re all feeling the powerful draw of safety, showers, and a meal that doesn’t come from a supermarket shelf.
Even with my shorter, considerably less in-shape legs slowing us down, we make excellent time, cresting the final hill at the edge of the Samish reservation by midafternoon and making our way down to the collection of longhouses and larger, communal buildings in a glow of welcoming light. Instantly, I feel at home here where the cliffs and the forest meet the sea. There is no seawall here, in this place where nature has been allowed to run its course.
Kite explains how the village reorganized farther inland a few decades ago, once it became clear that the rising ocean levels were only going to get worse. He points out islands that were once part of the mainland and details how the tribe’s oyster farming practices changed in response to the new normal.
“The saddest part about it is how much harder it is to see the orcas,” he says, pointing out toward the waves sparkling gold in the afternoon light. “My grandmother said they used to jump so close to land that you could see every detail of their markings. She used to name them, keep track of who the matriarch was and how many babies were born into the pod.”
“Orcas do it right, man.” Creedence’s hand comes to shield his eyes as he squints toward the horizon. “If women were in charge, shit would suck so much less.”
“Or just suck in a different way,” Luke pipes up. He’s been chattier since our talk, offering a total of five or six sentences in the past two and half hours.
“I’m on team suck less,” Kite says, leading the way down the path onto the main dirt road running through this part of the reservation. “I think women understand how vulnerable we all are in a visceral way most men don’t.”
“Because they’re the weaker sex?” Dust asks, clearly not on board with that assumption.
Kite shakes his head. “No, because they bring life into the world. A woman is vulnerable when she’s pregnant, unable to protect herself the way she could before, and then she gives birth to this tiny life completely dependent on the adults around it to keep it alive…” He shrugs. “I think that makes most women see how precious and fragile life is. Makes them more compassionate, less prone to violence without thinking through the consequences.”
I meet Luke’s gaze behind Kite’s back, arching a pointed brow. For the second time today, his lips curve, communicating a wry “point taken” that I appreciate.
Maybe he isn’t a lost cause, after all, this man who was raised in a world so much more savage than my own. Maybe he just needs a chance to learn that there are other ways of solving conflict than the slash and burn method he’s known until now.
Though, I can’t really blame him for killing the men who killed his brother. My flame attack yesterday proved how much rage I’m capable of when it comes to the people who matter most.
I’m going to have to keep a close eye on myself and make sure to use my new powers with the same compassion I valued when I was one of the most vulnerable among us. Mercy when you’re desperately in need of it yourself is easier, I would think, than mercy when you’re an apex predator, capable of destroying anyone who stands in your way.
Though the thought of me, scrawny Wren Frame, as a predator is still laughable.
“You ready?” Kite turns to me with an expectant look that makes me think I might have missed part of what he said.
I shake my head with a smile. “Ready for what?”
He nods to the road in front of us. “That’s my mom. Don’t be scared. She’s harmless, I promise.”
I turn, eyes flying wide as a laugh bursts from my lips. In front of us, standing on her hind legs next to a brightly painted totem pole featuring animals native to the Samish lands, is a grizzly bear nearly as tall as the masterpiece beside her. From her clawed toes to the tip of her black nose, she’s at least ten feet, and the roar that rumbles from her throat as Kite jogs toward her is loud enough to make the ground tremble.
“Wow,” I murmur as Kite hurls himself into her outstretched arms. She wraps him up tight, giving me a new appreciation for the term “bear hug,” even as a whisper of unease tickles the back of my brain.
“First time meeting the boyfriend’s mama is always fun, right?” Creedence murmurs softly, his winning grin in place as he lifts a hand to the men and women stepping down from shaded porches and hurrying up the beach to greet us.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I whisper back. “Not officially.”
Creedence makes a dismissive sound. “Oh, stop. You’re friends, you like making out with him, and your fates are entwined by destiny and an epic quest and shit. He’s your boyfriend. Own it.” He nudges me in the ribs with his elbow. “And own that monster-in-law of yours. Think you can win her over?”
I swallow. “I hope so. Kite’s always talked about how nice she is.”
“Nice to her baby boy, I’m sure. We’ll see how much she likes the girl taking him away from his tribe and putting him in mortal danger.” Creedence lays a gentle hand on my shoulder that does little to offer comfort before he steps away, moving to greet a man with silver-streaked black hair even longer than Kite’s with an outstretched hand.
Swallowing the ball of anxiety forming in my throat, I force a smile as I wade into the crush of bodies, accepting hugs and greetings from more tall, beautiful people, several of whom announce they are Kite’s sisters or cousins, all of them with a welcoming smile on their faces.
But when I reach Kite and his mother—who has dropped onto all fours now, making her slightly less intimidating, but only slightly—I’m not sure what to expect.
“Wren, this is Mina, my sweet little mama.” Kite motions to me. “Mama, this is Wren, the girl I was telling you about.”
“Thank you so much for taking us in,” I say, meeting the bear’s intelligent brown eyes. “And thank you for raising such a wonderful person. Kite’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”
Kite looks embarrassed, but his mother smiles, baring her teeth in a way that’s a little scary until she lets out a soft rumble and leans in to nuzzle my stomach with her nose. Smiling I lay a gentle hand on her head in appreciation, able to feel the warmth and affection in the connection the same way I can feel tenderness flowing from Kite every time we touch.
After a moment, she pulls away, turning to grunt rapidly to Kite in a bear language he clearly understands.
“Mom says we should all be ashamed of ourselves for making you hike all over creation in a pair of old boxer shorts and oversize shoes,” he says, extending a hand my way. “She insists I take you to her place and get you some decent clothes from my sister Selkie’s closet. You’re about the same size.” He glances over my head as our fingers twine together. “The rest of you can head into the main lodge. My cousins will get you set up with clothes and show you to your cabins.”
&
nbsp; “You’ll be all right, Wren?” Dust asks, his gaze meeting mine.
“I’ll be fine.” I glance around, warmth filling my chest as I’m suddenly able to feel the love flowing in from every beating heart in this tribe. Touching Kite has something to do with it, I know, but now that I’ve felt this love, this truth, I know I’ll never doubt that I’m welcome here again. “Better than fine,” I add with a smile. “Feels like home already.”
Kite grins a proud, pleased grin that fills me with a badly needed shot of hope. We aren’t as alone as I thought. And maybe we never really are, even the most lost souls among us.
Chapter 26
Wren
After a hot and heavenly shower—I will never take the glory of clean hair and dirt-free nails for granted again—I change into a long red cotton skirt and a soft clingy white tee Kite borrowed from his littlest sister and slip on a pair of sinfully comfortable black sandals that soothe every sore spot on my feet.
Beneath the piles of clothes and shoes, I discover a pair of earrings carved from dark gray granite and lift them to the light.
“Bears,” I whisper with a smile as I slip them into my ears and turn to the mirror.
What I see there shocks me.
My jaw drops and the lips of the girl in the reflection part, too. But this girl isn’t the pale, dark-circled, sickly person I remember seeing the last time I took a hard look at my reflection. This girl’s skin is clear and bright, and her blue eyes shine with a sharp curiosity. Her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are raspberry red, and the thick hair drying around her shoulders gleams with health.
I pull in a deep breath and roll my shoulders back, standing up straight. I even look taller than I was a week ago.
Is that possible? To hit a growth spurt after your twenty-fourth birthday?
A soft knock on the door interrupts my self-inspection. “Wren? It’s Kite. I brought some other stuff you might want—deodorant, lotion, some sort of oil…shaping, smoothing stuff my sister told me would be good for your hair. They’re all pretty horrified that I sent you in there with nothing but shampoo and soap.”