by Cari Z
I took a shuddery breath. Suddenly it felt an awful lot colder out here. “I do.”
“You’re going to have to intervene, Henry.”
“I know.” Fuck, I knew. “We’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ward
I STILL wasn’t sure what had happened. A moment ago I’d been staring at Henry, who looked exactly like the otherworldly creature he was, standing there in the blowing wind with his head back, ice crystals frosting his beard and pure pleasure on his face. He’d been irresistible in that instant, unbelievable, and so handsome I couldn’t help but remember how I’d thought of him the other night, the opposite of cold: wet heat and hot skin pressed against mine. When he’d glanced at me, his pale eyes reflecting the ice all around us but so much warmer, I’d been transfixed, my chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. I’d wanted to reach out and touch him. Thank God the walkie-talkie had kept me from making an idiot of myself.
From the forbidding look that crept over Henry’s face as he spoke, though, he’d have preferred almost anything to what was happening now.
He clipped the walkie back to his belt and set off at a brisk pace for the snowcat. “We have to go now. Is the cargo secure?”
“Yes,” Sam confirmed, but she looked just as confused as I felt. “We’re not in any real hurry, though, are we? We’ve still got hours of daylight, and I brought lunch in the car.”
“I’ve got to get to Monte Vista.”
“Oh.” One of Sam’s hands drifted up to her mouth. “Oh no. Not Wilson.”
“Yeah. He’s gone too far.”
“Oh Henry, you can’t. He’s—”
“He’s lost, Sam.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “He’s gone. Otherwise he wouldn’t be doing this. I’ve got to put a stop to it.”
“Who is Wilson?” Tennyson demanded.
“He’s… he was a pack member when we were in college,” Sam choked out. “He was the last one of our generation to get his shift, and he… he never managed to shift back. Mom kept him with us for over a year, but he just went deeper and deeper into the wolf. He didn’t come back from it. Mom was supposed to kill him, but… she couldn’t.” Sam’s voice dropped to a whisper. I could barely hear it over the wind. “She let him go.”
“That’s illegal,” Tennyson noted, not dispassionately but not approvingly either. “If she’d been caught doing that, she could have been replaced as alpha.”
“She died less than a year later, so it’s a little late to report her,” Henry snapped.
Tennyson flinched.
“We have to get this all this loaded up again, and then John and I need to go get him.”
“You can’t go do this with no support but the guardian!” Sam protested. “I’ll go with you, and T can drive the supplies back home.”
“I’m no good at driving in the snow,” Tennyson said. He clearly didn’t like that fact, either. “I’ll go along instead.”
“You and Roman have to stay with Sam and Genna, in case something goes wrong on the road,” Henry argued. “It’ll take werewolf strength to get the truck out of a snowdrift if there’s an accident. I’ll be fine with John.”
“No, you won’t!”
“I’ll go with you,” I offered, barely knowing what I was volunteering for but determined that whatever was going on, Henry deserved to have more support at his side than John Parnell.
I was expecting an argument. I was half expecting Henry to tell me I wasn’t pack, or that my being there wouldn’t help anything, but instead he looked at me gratefully. “Thank you.”
“I—yeah, of course.”
The next half hour was a frenzy of movement, getting the snowcat out of the valley with all its increased weight and back onto the trailer behind the 4Runner. Everyone was tense, distressed, and John was also in a hurry, pushing people to move faster.
“We’ve got to get this done while it’s still light out, people!” He turned to Henry. “We’ll take the Jeep. If we leave now, we can get there in under an hour.”
“Fine. Ward is coming.”
John snorted. “If you want him around to see this, I suppose that’s your business.”
“Exactly.” They stared at each other for a long moment before John finally averted his eyes.
I took the back seat in the Jeep and breathed a little sigh of relief when John kicked the heat up to high as soon as he started the engine. I was shivering, mostly with cold, I thought, but some of it was adrenaline with nowhere to go and nothing to react to. Henry got into the front seat next to John, and we were away down the narrow road before the 4Runner had even finished getting its cargo secured.
There was nothing but silence for almost the entire ride, and I wasn’t going to be the one to break it, not when I had the least idea of what was going on here. Usually I’d be curious, but the mood was so somber that I already knew what we were heading for. Henry was going to have to do something that he clearly loathed the very thought of, and John was going to make sure he did it right.
Every now and then, John darted little glances over at Henry, like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of what he was seeing. It didn’t seem so damn complicated to me. Henry was stiff with anger, with discomfort, and with what I’d bet was fear, even though he was an alpha werewolf and a soldier and any of a dozen other things that were supposed to mean he was invulnerable.
“I could do it.” It was the only thing John offered on the entire ride, just as we saw the sign for Monte Vista off the shoulder of the right lane.
“It’s not your responsibility.” Henry’s voice was wooden.
“It shouldn’t have been yours either.”
“But it is.” And that was that.
John didn’t continue into town, instead pulling off onto the side of the road near a barren aspen grove that climbed halfway up the side of the nearest hill. “The last dog was taken half a mile from here,” he said as he killed the engine. “It’s far enough out that we can get you some cover if you need to change.”
Henry shook his head. “I won’t need a full change for this.”
John looked mildly impressed. “Even your mother couldn’t pick and choose what she wanted to change, especially not under pressure.”
“My mother had other strengths.” Henry got out of the Jeep, and I scrambled to follow, wrapping my scarf tighter around my neck as soon as I was outside. It actually wasn’t as bad down here as it had been up by San Luis Peak, but I was used to being comfortable now. A shudder rocked my whole body, and suddenly Henry turned to me, his purposeful stride jerking to a halt.
“You don’t have to be here for this,” he said gently. “Stay in the car. Stay warm. John can witness it.”
That sounded absolutely hideous. “I’m here for you. I’m not going to stay in the car when you might need me.” For what, I didn’t know, but it was obviously the right thing to say if the way Henry’s eyes softened for a moment was anything to go by.
“Still, you should stay back for now. I don’t know what mood he’ll be in when he gets here.” Henry reached out and squeezed my shoulder, just once, then turned and started heading toward the trees. John stopped by my side, and we watched him go.
“Are you armed?” John asked after a moment.
“No.”
“You should consider it from here on out. Get a Taser if nothing else.”
“Should I really be afraid of Henry?” I snapped.
John sighed heavily. “Let me tell you something about the people you’ve gotten yourself involved with,” he said. “And I’m calling them people, yes. Good people, most of them, and a few of them are even great. Henry’s the type to be great, or he would be if he wasn’t the alpha. His mother….” John shook his head. “She was so proud when he and his sister went off to school. Sam was going to be a lawyer, and Henry was going to study sculpture and painting. He was always good with his hands, and he had a sharp e
ye. He could have made it as an artist. But he was raised to be responsible, and the responsible thing to do after his folks died abroad was to come back and be the alpha.
“Military service is required for all alpha werewolves. You know that, right?”
I nodded.
“His folks weren’t easy on him growing up, but when Henry came back for the first time after six months of intensive training, I swear to God, I didn’t even recognize him at the gate. His face was empty. His spark was gone. I think he’d have died a long time ago if Sam didn’t keep pulling him back. That and the fact that he hates what he does, hates it so much that he doesn’t want anyone else in his pack to have to do it.”
“What does he have to do?” I whispered. It might not have been right of me to ask, but I had to know. No one in La Garita pack would tell me.
“He kills whoever his boss tells him to kill. Goes places and retrieves things, people, that no one else would be able to. He shifts and stalks and murders enemies of the state, and sometimes other folks too, the collateral damage. And he’s got to.” John’s mouth tightened. “We’ve all got things we have to do.”
I felt sickened. “And this? What’s this all about?”
“Righting his mother’s wrong. The white wolf might not be a formal pack member anymore, but it’ll respond to the call of its alpha. Listen.” We stood in silence for a long moment until it was broken by a high, ululating howl. I could barely make out Henry’s silhouette up ahead, obscured by the shape of the trees. He howled again, throwing his head back with abandon, and all the tiny hairs on my body stood on end.
“I barely remember Wilson,” John murmured. “He was a transfer from another pack, the last one I know of to be disbanded before the pack that Tennyson came from. He had problems adapting, fitting in. La Garita was good to him, but they weren’t enough. When he finally went wolf, he didn’t even want to come back. He should never have been let go.” John’s fists clenched. “It should never have gone on for this long.”
I felt my throat begin to tighten. “This happens to all werewolves who don’t change back?”
“All of them. He’s still contagious, even if he doesn’t remember being human. What if he graduates from attacking people’s pet dogs to their kids? What if the kids turn? What if they just die?”
Oh, Jesus.
“That’s the real danger of werewolves. It’s not that they can’t be good people. It’s that if they aren’t, if they slip, then they’re worse than they should be. Get yourself a weapon,” he advised me, then held up a hand. “There. Look.” I could barely hear his voice over the wind.
“At what?” I whispered.
“Up on the hillside, behind the big rock. There he is.”
I stared at the side of the mountain until my eyes burned with needing to blink, but it wasn’t until the wolf moved that I finally saw him. He was big, bigger than your average dog, almost as big as Henry was during a shift, and he was pure white. Beautiful, but he moved with none of the playfulness or consciousness I’d seen in Henry or the kids when they had furry time. He loped through the snow like an animal, a beautiful, dangerous animal, heading straight for Henry’s side. I held my breath when they finally encountered each other, Henry stretching out a hand to the wolf. I couldn’t see if it was clawed or not, but the wolf sniffed once, twice, and then—
Suddenly he was like a puppy. He leaped back a little ways, then rolled over and up again, darting here and there in an attempt to entice Henry to play with him. He yipped, and it was a joyous sound.
I couldn’t hear what Henry did or said, but the wolf calmed a little bit, crept closer and closer until he was close enough for Henry to enfold in his arms. It looked like an embrace, and I could imagine how it felt, even as a wolf, to be drawn into Henry’s arms. I’d had one hug from the guy, and the memory of it still made me blush sometimes. This hug wasn’t to comfort, or to welcome, or simply to scent, though. This hug was a goodbye, and we all knew it.
The wolf whined, but slowly, slowly, went down on its side. Henry crouched over it, petting its thick white fur with one hand, gentling it. I couldn’t hear his voice, but I could see his lips moving as he stroked it. He crouched there for a long time, until John started to get antsy and shift his weight. He moved as if to step forward, and I reached for his arm and held him back.
“No,” I said. “Let him do it.”
And then he did.
It was over faster than I could see, one smooth, fast swipe with a hand, a final whine, and then… nothing. Nothing but the gradual spread of blood against snow and John slowly relaxing under my grip.
“I’ll get a tarp,” John muttered. “We can’t bury him here.” He pulled away from me and headed back to the Jeep, and I… I just stood there, dumb and numb, like an idiot. I didn’t want to walk up that hill. I didn’t want to see what I knew I was going to, I didn’t want to look at a dead werewolf and the alpha who’d killed him, I didn’t want to see what I knew I’d see in Henry’s eyes.
But I’d come here for him. What good was I if I wasn’t going to follow through? Tightening my arms around myself, I followed Henry’s footprints, a little too long for my stride to really fit, until I got to the tree line. Henry was just five feet away, his hands still resting on Wilson’s fur. They were barely hands, the claws as long as talons. The red beneath both of them was so vivid against the snow I almost couldn’t believe it was real. How could any of this be real?
“Henry.”
He looked over at me, and his expression was flat, his eyes gold, his jaw jutting and misshapen, filled with fangs that I didn’t want to get close to. He was as near to a monster as I’d ever seen. The sight of him propelled me forward, first within reach and then practically on top of him. I didn’t touch him, but I stood close enough for him to hear my heartbeat and the way I was breathing, raspy and loud. Anything to distract him.
Henry closed his eyes, his head tilted slightly toward me, but did nothing else. I just stood there, stupidly, and tried not to look at the beautiful, pitiful creature at my feet. Jesus Christ. This… the thought of consequences rolled through my head, not just for Wilson but for Ava, my baby. I had to… I had to….
Henry was never going to have to make this sort of choice about my daughter. I wouldn’t let it happen, not to either of them.
John joined us a moment later, a blue plastic tarp in his hands. He spread it out briskly. “Come on, Henry,” he said. “Get him settled so we can get back. Sam’s waiting for you.” He was staring narrowly at Henry’s semishifted face, but he didn’t let whatever he was feeling reflect in his voice.
Henry didn’t speak. He picked Wilson’s body up like a baby, cradled it against his chest for a moment before laying it on the tarp. He tucked the edges in around the fur but left the head free, got to his feet, and lifted over a hundred pounds of wolf into his arms like it was nothing, like he hadn’t been lifting huge weights all morning, like he wasn’t hungry and heartbroken. I looked at him and felt absolutely helpless, and I fucking hated that feeling.
I reached out and set my hand on Henry’s elbow. He blinked and stared at me with eyes that were suddenly blue, and both John and I breathed a little easier.
“Let’s go home.”
Chapter Fourteen
Henry
EVERYTHING SMELLED like blood.
It smeared the air, tainting it with its filth even through the plastic surrounding Wilson. Werewolf blood smelled different from human blood, which I was far more familiar with, but the iron was the same. That and the tang that stuck in the back of your throat, making you feel like you were on the verge of vomiting. I hated the smell, but I was used to it by now. I could barely escape it even when I was off duty—it made sense I would be surrounded by it now. Only it was accompanied with the ozone scent of snow, car exhaust, and very faintly, wrongly, the smell of Ward. I didn’t like smelling him and blood at the same time, and yet I knew he was one of the only things helping me hold on to the tenuous thread of control
I was maintaining right then.
John had noticed my partial shift, I was sure of it, documenting how long I stayed like this. I should have changed back all the way just to lessen the impact his observations would have on me, but I couldn’t. It felt too much like taking off my armor, and right then I needed that barrier more than ever.
Wilson was cooling in my arms. I sat with him in the back seat of the Jeep, and Ward kept craning around to look at us, check on me. I didn’t look at him, but I could feel the pressure of his gaze like a stroke on the shoulder, or a brief tangle of our fingers.
“Do you want me to call Sam?” he asked at last.
Oh, right. It was a good idea. Someone should. My phone… was in my pocket. I’d have to let go of Wilson to get it. I couldn’t quite make myself do that yet.
“Use mine.” John handed Ward an iPhone, and I listened absently to my sister’s concerned voice over the speaker, her brief silence when Ward told her what I’d done, her questions about when we’d be back. An hour. Maybe less.
Then Wilson would go in the ground. The grave was probably already being dug. It was a holdover from our earliest experiences as werewolves, the necessity of burying a body fast. You didn’t want to leave the dead ones around for other creatures to feed on, nothing that could potentially allow the mutation to spread. Wolves were buried deep, or burned. I shut my eyes and pulled Wilson a little closer.
I hated feeling this way about him, like it had gutted me. I didn’t want to be gutted by the death of someone I’d known for less than a year when I was still a teenager. My mother had felt sorry for him, one of the only survivors of a disbanded pack, so awkward and so angry to be with us. I hadn’t liked him back then, and the feeling had been mutual. When he’d failed to come back from his shift and my mother had let him go, I’d actually been pleased. Now he wasn’t our problem. I wouldn’t have to deal with him and neither would she, no more anxiety, no more arguments. He was just… gone. It was good.