by Juniper Hart
Wren smirked. She was sure that Christiana had purposely turned off her cell for this reason precisely. It was inevitable that one of them would be called in on their night off.
“Yeah,” Wren said without hesitation. “I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”
“Good.” Linda hung up, and the microwave beeped, indicating that the popcorn was finished. Wren found a bowl and dumped the steaming puffs into it before dropping it in the living room.
“Sorry, but I’ve got to get to work,” she told the trio.
“What?” Christiana cried. “No!”
“I need the hours, Chris,” Wren reminded her. “I’m closing.”
“Well, this sucks,” Pilar sighed. “We never get to see you guys.”
“Chris will still be here,” Wren reminded her. It’s not like you came here to see me, anyway, she added silently.
“If you change your mind,” Pilar yelled out as Wren moved toward her bedroom. “We’ll see you at the ball?”
“I won’t change my mind,” Wren called back. But as she closed the door to get dressed for work, she wondered why she was considering it.
If it’s not just a ploy for Landon Burke to get information on my family, what’s the harm in going? a little voice reasoned. You’ve never seen how the other half lives.
Wren quickly ignored it and threw open her closet.
There’s a reason you’ve never seen how the other half lives, she thought grimly. You’re not part of the other half. You’re the lowly part of this half. You’re in the bottom one percentile, no matter how many galas the Council invites you to.
8
“This is out of control!” Raven barked, gaping at the printout before her. “There are six days left until the RSVP runs out, and we’re at three times the capacity already!”
“Too late now,” Landon replied easily, examining his nails, although the wheels in his mind were turning. He hadn’t expected such a turnout or interest when he’d presented the idea to the Council, but here they were, dealing with the influx of reservations to the ball.
“What was your reasoning behind this again?” Raven insisted, shooting her blue eyes around the room, as if seeking support from the other Council members. “We’ve been doing this our way for ages, Landon, and suddenly you want to open this up to everyone?”
“That’s the point exactly!” Laurel interjected, surprising Landon. He shot the Fairy Queen a grateful look, but her attention was firmly on the demon who was struggling with the concept. “We’ve been doing this the same way forever, excluding the very beings the ball is meant to benefit. There’s a separation in the classes that shouldn’t exist, and yet it does.”
“Oh, gods,” Henry moaned. “Are we getting all political over a damned charity event?”
“It’s not just this event,” Landon snapped. “It’s everything. I just realized how out of touch I am with my packs. You can’t tell me that you’re chummy with all your tribes, Henry.”
“Actually,” the vampire drawled. “I’m quite in tune with what’s happening with my beings. Just because you’re out of the loop, up there in your ivory tower, doesn’t mean we all have to suffer.”
“Is mingling with the lower classes causing you some distress?” Landon bit back, lowering himself onto his knuckles. His green eyes flashed, clashing with Henry’s. Neither faltered.
“Okay, tone down the testosterone,” Laurel growled. “What’s done is done, and while it’s not a bad concept, it’s getting out of control. We’re going to need to change venues to accommodate this many beings.”
“Not to mention that some of the packs and tribes who are responding aren’t exactly friendly. We might need to amp up security,” Raven sighed, shaking her head. “The next time you have some brilliant United Nations idea, Landon, I wish you’d think through the repercussions first before jumping into it.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Laurel insisted, interjecting before Landon could bark back at the demon. “We’ve handled much worse than a party, haven’t we?”
The fairy looked meaningfully at Raven, daring her to argue that she had been foiled by something as trivial as planning an event. The demon grunted and sat back, folding her arms over her chest in defiance.
“I guess I don’t have a choice but to figure this out, do I?” she snapped. “Thanks to Landon.”
“You’re acting as though you’re handling everything on your own,” Theo chimed in, his tone low and even. “I think it’s a great idea, and I don’t mind putting in the extra work because of it.”
The werebear’s words were enough for a silence to fall over the table. The meeting had been called at Raven’s insistence, two weeks before their monthly scheduled one. Theo rarely had much to contribute, good or bad, so to hear him speak in favor of something was an event in and of itself.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Theo demanded. “I can’t have an opinion?”
“Of course you can,” Landon said jovially, relieved that he wasn’t on everyone’s hit list that evening.
“Can we stop dwelling on what’s happened and move forward?” Alec growled. “I really do have other matters to attend than this.”
There was a murmur of agreement, and everyone rose to leave, none faster than Landon, but he was not fast enough. Laurel grabbed him by the arm as he made for his Tesla.
“What is going on with you?” she questioned. “You’ve been acting all out of whack the last couple of months.”
“Because I want to better our world?” he asked innocently, and she scowled.
“The Landon Burke I know wants to better himself—financially. Why this sudden interest in the lower classes?” Landon didn’t respond, and he twirled his keys in his fingers, thinking of an answer that would placate his highly intuitive friend. “Is it your headaches, Landon? Is that what’s going on?”
Good an excuse as any, he thought, grateful that Laurel had picked up something herself. It was much easier than explaining that he had some odd fascination with a woman whom he had no right involving himself with, one who was borne from a pack of criminals.
“Must be,” he answered lightly. Even as he spoke, he realized that his head was beginning to pound again.
“You have one right now, don’t you?”
“Are you in my head?” Landon asked with exasperation. “I’m a big boy, Laurel. I don’t need you mothering me.”
“Yeah, tell that to me when you’re harassing my wife for massages,” she retorted.
“Harassing? Really?”
“Whatever. Landon, you need to get to the root of what’s causing these headaches. I was thinking about it, and I noticed that they started after Miriam died.”
Landon blinked and looked at her. “Are you suggesting that I’m enduring some kind of grief related to her death?” he asked skeptically. “Because I don’t think I need to tell you that I wasn’t that close to Miriam.”
Laurel snorted. “I wouldn’t assume you are even capable of grief,” she snickered. “But I did make the connection between them. What do you make of it?”
“I make nothing of it,” Landon snapped impatiently. “Can I go now, Dr. Phil, or is there something else?”
Laurel sighed and waved a mocha-toned hand dismissively. “There’s no point in talking to you. I can’t force you to see your personality changes if you won’t look at them, but you’re not acting like yourself, and I think it started after Miriam died.”
“Noted. Thanks for the diagnosis.” Landon waved at her immaturely and slipped into his car, the thudding in his skull intensifying. Before starting the vehicle, however, his eyes fell on Lane, who walked into the parking lot hand-in-hand with Henry.
If these headaches continue, I’m going to have to bite the bullet and ask Lane for an infusion. That has to be better than enduring Laurel’s “talks.” He rubbed his forefingers against his temples and willed his vision to clear before backing out of the parking spot. When he looked up again, he saw Laurel remained in pl
ace, shaking her head slightly.
His migraines had nothing to do with Miriam’s death. If anything, Landon was working too hard. He needed a vacation.
Driving away, he thought of someone else who likely needed a vacation, too. He had meant to ask Raven if Wren Archer and Christiana had RSVP’d to the gala, but he didn’t dare, knowing that Laurel was watching him like a hawk.
If any of them think I’ve opened the doors of the gala to the lower classes because I have an interest in a female, all hell will break loose in the Council.
He tried to tell himself that he wasn’t doing it only for that reason, that there was a purer motive behind the move, but deep down, he knew the truth.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Wren Archer.
Despite his pounding headache, Landon made his way back to The Quarry and parked in the lot. He saw Linda’s car and debated whether to enter the establishment or not. It wasn’t until his eyes rested on Wren’s car that he made his decision and stepped from the driver’s side, striding toward the door before he could change his mind. Unfortunately, it was Linda he saw first.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re stalking me,” she joked flirtingly. “You’ve been in here a lot the past couple weeks.”
Landon gave her a thin smile and shrugged. “What can I say? I love the ambiance.”
As he spoke, a roar of raucous laughter erupted near the bar, making him cringe in pain.
It’s Saturday night. Go home, he growled to himself, but he couldn’t. He wanted to see if Wren had gotten her invite to the charity ball and if she was going.
“Table? Bar?” Linda asked when he didn’t make an immediate move.
“Uh…” His eyes scanned the crowded restaurant, wondering if Wren was serving or bartending that night. He decided to cut to the chase and ask Linda. “Where’s Wren?” A look of disbelief crossed her porcelain face, and she gaped at him.
“Wren?” she repeated.
“Newish girl? Dark hair, big brown eyes?” he intoned like she needed the reminder.
“I know who she is,” Linda snapped irritably. “I’m just wondering why you’re looking for her.”
“I need to talk to her about something.”
“Like what?” It was Landon’s turn to become annoyed.
“I’m sorry, are you my press secretary?” he demanded, glaring at her. “Is she here or not? I saw her car in the lot.”
Linda scoffed and pointed toward the bar before spinning away, muttering something under her breath. Landon thought she might have called him an ass, but he couldn’t be sure, as his attention was focussed on the shiny-haired brunette handling the busy bar with ease.
He wasn’t concerned about Linda’s feelings any more than he was about any of the other women he’d had a one-night stand with. If the waitress thought that their little rendezvous the one time meant anything, that was on Linda, not him.
Landon took a seat at one of the only open stools and waited for Wren to acknowledge him. She was handling the bar alone, but it didn’t seem to faze her in the least. After all, she’d come from a background in club bartending. Almost instantly, she rested her eyes on him, the half-smile on her face fading instantly.
“What can I get you?” she asked coldly.
“I’m not staying,” he told her. “I just wanted to know if you got your invitation.”
Wren’s eyes narrowed. “I did.”
He studied her face. “Are you going?”
Her brow creased deeply. “Are you making personal visits to everyone in the lower classes to see if they’re going?” she asked in a low voice.
“No,” he replied lightly. “Just the special cases.”
She turned away. “I’m sorry, Mr. Burke, but if you don’t want anything, I have other customers waiting.”
“Will you just answer my question?” he insisted. “Are you coming or not?”
“No, of course not.”
Landon was taken aback by the force and the tone of her voice. It was filled with a bitterness that stunned him. Why is she so mad at me?
“Why not?” he demanded. “Everyone’s going! We have to get a new venue to accommodate everyone!”
Wren whipped her head around and closed the space between them. “You should keep your voice down, Mr. Burke. This isn’t something we should be discussing so publicly. Or are you trying to catch me doing something illegal?”
Landon’s mouth parted in surprise. “I— What?” His confusion was tangible. “I started the conversation.”
“And I’m ending it. No, Mr. Burke, I’m not attending your party. Thank you for the invitation, but it’s really not my thing. My cocktail dress is at the cleaner’s unfortunately.” Wren whirled away before he could speak again, leaving Landon to stare after her.
Screw her, he thought angrily, jumping from his barstool.
“Aren’t you glad you wasted your time looking for her?” Linda asked cattily. “I told you there’s something wrong with her.” Landon bristled, but in his anger, he found himself eyeing Linda with renewed interest. “Did you say something about a party?” she purred, noting the look on his face. “I love parties.”
Landon smiled tightly, casting one last look over his shoulder at Wren, who had completely dismissed him.
“It just so happens,” he told Linda, “that there’s a party at my place tonight. What time are you off?”
Linda’s face brightened, and she giggled coquettishly. “I’m closing.”
“I’ll be back to pick you up,” he promised, and he slipped out of The Quarry like he was trying to escape the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
9
“Can you close, or do you need me to hold your hand?” Linda asked coldly. “I’ve got a date.”
Wren glanced at her, continuing to wipe down the bar. The last of the patrons had left for the night, and she was just cleaning and stocking. There was no need to have Linda stick around. In fact, Wren could do without the woman breathing down her neck like she was waiting for Wren to screw up and her attitude.
“I’m good,” Wren replied flatly. “Have fun on your date.” She didn’t have to wonder what kind of man would be meeting with a girl at three o’clock in the morning. It was none of Wren’s business.
When she looked up again, she saw that Linda was still standing there, glaring at her.
“What?” Wren demanded. “I said I’ve got this.”
“I’m just wondering what the customers see in you,” Linda said unexpectedly. “I mean, you’re pretty, I guess, and you’re okay at the bar…”
Wren blinked and looked at her in confusion. “What?”
Where the hell is this coming from?
Humiliation colored Linda’s face, and she spun away. “Never mind. Don’t forget to put the money in the safe and lock up.”
“Okay.” Yeah. I’ve been doing this longer than you, Linda, Wren retorted silently. She wasn’t about to get into a fight with the newly promoted night manager. It wasn’t worth it, and she needed the job more than she needed to assert herself. Considering the way Linda looked at her, she was lucky the redhead called her in at all for the extra hours. It was no secret that Linda didn’t like her or Christiana, and Wren had no interest in fueling that fire.
She finished wiping down the bar and tables before cashing out and shutting off all the lights. She’d made fairly good time, considering Linda had bailed.
Still beats nightclub bartending, Wren told herself, but she wasn’t even sure if that was true anymore.
There was a such a strong part of her that was done making nice with the drunks and the pigs at the bars. What she’d said to Chris was true: they needed to focus on where they were going in their future. They both had long, long lives ahead of them, and immortal or not, they couldn’t consider living like this.
I need to find something else to do with my life, she thought, and so does Chris. But how can we, when we don’t have any money to pursue higher education?
; Wren looked around the darkened pub one last time to ensure she hadn’t forgotten anything before slamming out of the fire door toward her car. No sooner had the metal door clicked behind her than someone grabbed her arm, and Wren gasped in shock.
Before she could stop herself, she began to shift, her claws extending to reach toward the throat of her attacker, but as her snout elongated into a display of glistening teeth, she froze.
“Wren, it’s me,” Jordan mumbled. Wren pushed her brother away and quickly returned to her mortal form, backing away.
“What are you doing here, Jordan?” she demanded, anger in her voice. “Do you know how stupid it is that you’re here right now?”
“I’ve been looking for you,” her brother muttered. “I thought you were working at that nightclub.”
“I was—and then I changed jobs when I heard you were looking for me,” Wren growled. “Why are you? I thought I made it really clear that I didn’t want anything to do with you anymore.”
A look of ire sparked on Jordan’s face, his brown eyes flashing in the dark.
“Must be nice to be able to walk away,” he said bitterly. “I wish I’d had that option.”
“Oh, spare me your martyr speech, Jordan. No one held a gun to your head and told you to get into the family business.”
Jordan glared at her. “You’re so high and mighty, escaping the family, aren’t you, Wren? You think you’re better than us somehow because you managed to escape being sucked into it, but you’re not. You can’t escape who you are, Wren. This pack is your pack, and we’re still your family, like it or not.”
Wren instantly thought of the way Landon had looked at her when he realized she was an Archer—the disgust on his face.
“Jordan, did you come here to give me a spiel, or is there something else you need from me? Because I’m broke. I don’t have any money to give you.”
“I need something else,” he relented. “I need an alibi.”
Oh, gods.
“No!” Wren cried sharply. “Whatever you did, I want no part of it.”