by Jess Haines
“All right, I get it. I’ll keep it secret, whatever it is.”
I examined the bloody crescents my nails left in my palm before speaking, the words coming in a rush. “Last night, one of the Sunstrikers scratched me while turned. I may be one of them next month—I might be infected. There’s no way to know yet. Not for sure. I can’t let my family find out, not until I know.”
It felt a bit like running a marathon to get all that out. Aside from my somewhat heavy breathing, the silence dragged between us.
I couldn’t stand it. “Jesus, Arnold, say something.”
“Christ,” he breathed, and I gathered from the shuffling and scraping coming through the line that he’d settled—perhaps collapsed is a better word—into a chair. “Are you sure? You—I—have you gone to the hospital or made an appointment to get tested yet?”
“No. I spoke with Rohrik Donovan, and he didn’t recommend it.”
“Rohrik Donovan? No shit.” He paused. Exploded. “Jesus Christ, Shia, how did it happen? Are you okay?”
“No,” I said, fighting the tears that suddenly threatened. His concern was shattering my careful control. “I mean, I’m not hurt too badly, but I might be a fucking werewolf next month. I’m not okay. There’s nothing that could ever possibly be okay about this. Fuck, Arnold, you don’t even know the half of it.”
“What else could there be? I mean, this isn’t the end of the world—you’re not dead—but this isn’t the greatest way to end a vacation. Does Chaz know?”
“Fuck Chaz!” I cried, slamming my palm down on my computer desk, sending papers spilling to the floor. “The fucking bastard was cheating on me, okay? The whole freaking pack knew he was doing it. Why didn’t I know, Arnold? How did he get away with it this long? He’s been screwing that … that whore for who knows how long, and—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down. Chaz was cheating on you? With who?”
I snarled something unintelligible before slumping into my office chair, rolling across the plastic floor mat until one of the wheels stuck on the carpet. Now that the shock of being potentially infected had worn off, my anger was coming back in force. I spat out the words, rubbing hot tears off my cheeks with my knuckles as I vented.
“That bastard has been sleeping with some other Were named Kimberly. They met at his gym. I can’t believe he would do this to me—”
“Shit, Shia, I’m sorry. Do you want me to check the archives and see if there’s anything The Circle might be able to do for you?”
“You have a spell to make Chaz’s dick fall off?”
“No.” He barked unsteady laughter, though it tapered off soon enough into a more serious, professional attitude I’d only encountered in him once or twice before. “No, but we might have one to cure lycanthropy. I know of ways to suppress the change after the fact, so we might have an antidote on file, too.”
That sobered me. I rubbed the palm of my free hand against my jeans, then noticed I was leaving bloodstains behind from where my nails had dug in and stopped, clenching my fist on my knee instead. The cuts didn’t hurt, not yet, but I didn’t want to ruin any more of my clothing after all I had already lost this weekend.
“Yes, please. If there’s anything that can be done to stop it, I’ll do it. God, Arnold, I don’t want to be one of them. I don’t want to be an Other. Not this way.”
“Hey, I don’t blame you or anything, but speaking from experience here, it isn’t the end of the world. Whatever happens, I’ll help you get through it. Let’s focus on the positive for the moment. You said you won’t know for sure if you’re infected right away, right? Well, you might not be. Don’t write yourself off yet.”
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, placing my hand on my forehead. Arnold was right. That didn’t make it any easier to swallow or set aside, but he was right, nonetheless. “Okay. I’ll try not to freak out any more than I already have.”
“Good. This probably isn’t the right time to ask this, but what are you going to do about Chaz?”
Good question. My eyes popped open, my gaze shifting toward my bedroom as though called. An idea was forming, one I wasn’t about to share with the mage.
“I’m not sure yet. Keep that under your hat, too; let me tell Sara. I need some time to get myself together before I discuss it with anybody.”
“Okay.” He didn’t sound convinced. “This might sound stupid, but don’t do anything to provoke him. He may be in the wrong here, but you could get hurt if you go after him for revenge.”
“I know. I’ll be careful.”
“No,” he said, tone sharp. “Don’t be a cowboy, Shia. He’s got no reason to play nice anymore if he thinks you’re out to get him. The Sunstrikers don’t have a great reputation for playing by the rules. If he gets the idea that you’re going to report him or a pack member to the authorities for assault, he might do something to ensure the sentence never gets carried out.”
My blood chilled, fingers tightening on the phone. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”
He sighed, the sound crackling through the receiver. It did nothing to reassure me. “Maybe it’s nothing. I never said anything before now because he was your boyfriend, and it wasn’t my place, but the Sunstrikers have a reputation for playing dirty. Nothing lasting, nothing that would stick in court, but that might be because no witnesses ever stuck to their guns or survived long enough to see the witness stand.”
“Are you telling me I was dating the werewolf equivalent of a mob boss?” I squeaked.
“Maybe,” he replied, all seriousness. “I can’t say for sure. There’s a supernatural grapevine, and nothing I’ve heard on it about them has been any good. Whenever I saw Chaz with you, he displayed perfectly good behavior, but it may have been a front. I hate to say this, but he was probably using you for something. You know I never trusted him during the time you were looking for the Focus. I wasn’t lying then; he probably sees you as a stepladder to something he wants. Maybe it’s a tie to Royce, or maybe it’s nothing at all. He might still try to play you somehow when he thinks you’ve cooled off.”
“Oh, that’s freaking fantastic. Just peachy keen,” I snarked, thinking once again about how Chaz had talked of his “needs.” Now that I had some perspective, there wasn’t much doubt in my mind that he’d been intending to talk me into being his next alpha bitch. That, or a broodmare for his kids. Either one would most likely have suited his purposes. “I’m going to kill the son of a bitch. One way or another.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” came the pointed reply. “Think long and hard about the consequences before you rush headlong into a fight. He’s got, what, fifty or sixty other werewolves at his back?”
“He couldn’t stop the cops. Not if he didn’t want a war on his hands. He’d be screwing things over for all the Weres, not just himself or his pack.”
“You don’t seem to get it. They might not care. If they have nothing to lose, why not fight it? And take you down with them.”
I paused. Considered and discarded any idea of discussing my violent train of thought with Arnold. The mage was far too cold in his calculations; right now, I needed someone with a temper that matched mine. Someone who would agree with what I was saying, back me up, and, best of all, not tell me to stop once I started down the path of revenge.
“Okay. You’re right. I won’t do anything about it for right now.” No, not right now. Later was another story.
“All right. Anything else I can do?”
“Not for the moment. Just keep quiet about everything, and let me know if you find a cure.”
“You got it.”
I had another task to see to before I could do what I was thinking about. The rolodex beside my monitor held all the numbers that had been in my cell phone. Luckily I’d gotten past my inability to keep my life organized and implemented the system of copying all the numbers in my phone as a security measure after losing my second-to-last cell phone to Max Carlyle.
Part of me sti
ll worried the crazy vampire had collected the contact info from it and might seek to use it against me some day. It had been a couple months, but that was no time at all to a creature who’s seen the passing of several millennia. He could strike at any time, which I’d done my very best to think about as little as possible. That didn’t mean I didn’t have the occasional niggling feeling of panic when something reminded me of the psycho vampire or what his plans for me had been. Plans that might not have changed, only been delayed.
As they say, you’re not paranoid if they really are out to get you.
Royce’s card held every number, address, and e-mail he’d ever given me, written in my cramped chicken-scratch so it would all fit. My usual hesitation to contact him had been replaced by a hesitation to tell him what had happened to me. Thankfully, that would most likely be put off for a while. It was only midafternoon. Though I’d seen him up and about during the day, chances were the vampire was resting. I’d leave him a message, and no doubt he’d return my call as soon as night fell.
As expected, his phone went immediately to voice mail. I waited for the beep, and then left a curt, perfunctory message with little more than my name, home number, and a semi-politely worded request for him to call me back as soon as he got the message.
After I hung up, I rose and headed to my bedroom. Tucked away in the bottom drawer of my dresser lay my hunting gear, arranged just as I’d left it. I ran my fingers over the handles of the three silver stakes, the belt they were attached to lying quiescent. The spirit inside would wake after sunset, the same spirit that hated all things Other. Whoever it had been, it had once hunted creatures of the night. Years of practice added to information collected from all who had worn it resulted in a formidable and deadly weapon, as it passed all that anger and experience on to the current wearer.
Maybe it would have some advice for me.
Chapter 26
After showering and bandaging my hand, I took what I intended to be a short nap. Instead, I ended up sleeping the remainder of the afternoon and most of the night away, and woke up to my message machine blinking. I’d slept right through someone’s trying to call me. With a groan, instead of snuggling under the covers as the rain pattering against my window urged me to do, I rolled out of bed. I had no idea what time the sun would rise. Panic drove me to move fast, hurrying to the dresser in the desperate hope that I hadn’t missed my opportunity to speak to the belt before dawn.
With shaking fingers, I pressed my hand to the coil of leather, praying the buzz of life was still in it. I was rewarded with a mental blast of impatience; I hadn’t taken it out in weeks, and it was not happy that I’d been ignoring it.
With no little trepidation, I picked the belt up and settled the side imprinted with the swirling brand of magic runes against my skin. The tongue adhered to the rest of the black leather, sealing it to me until sunrise. The voice of the spirit inside instantly berated me, and I took the lashing in silence.
‘Why have you been ignoring me? Do you have any idea how boring it is to have no one to talk to for so long? Your panties aren’t great conversationalists, I’ll have you know!’
“Hey, I never stuck you in with my underwear,” I protested, settling down on the bed. The belt didn’t want me to sit; it wanted me to move, to run, to let it feel all the glorious sensations of having a body again. It radiated eager agreement at my absent thought of making some coffee. It loved my morning staple almost as much as I did. “I need your advice.”
‘As long as you drink some coffee, I’m all ears.’
I complied, heading to the kitchen and letting all my angry thoughts return. The sensation of the belt examining and absorbing the memories of my time with the Sunstrikers this past weekend was not unlike the dainty prickle of a spider creeping along my skin. Except that this spider was crawling around inside my skull. Talk about creepy.
“Do you see?” I asked, taking a sip of java heavily medicated with cream and sugar.
After a blissful wash of pleasure, the belt spoke. ‘I’ll talk. Keep drinking.’
I did what it asked, rolling the drink over my tongue, enjoying the artifact’s reaction almost as much as my much-needed caffeine fix.
‘You have a right to be angry. Perhaps you’re starting to understand why I’ve always been so eager to rid the earth of these monsters. Now you are seeing them as they truly are.’
“They’re not all evil,” I said, obligingly quieting when it broadcast a scolding wave at me.
‘I don’t have much time before the sun rises, so let me speak. You have every right to wish a plague upon these monsters, particularly if they have made you into one of their own. I do not have the power to tell you; I’d only sense it once the disease has progressed to the point of no return. If you are one of the moon-chasers, once you turn you won’t be able to use me again. I don’t work for anything other than humans or magi. If you are serious about your desire for revenge, you’ve only got a limited amount of time to use me for that purpose.’
“Okay. Let’s say I do want to do it. Let’s say I want to use you to do something to the people who did this to me. What’s your advice?”
The belt was quiet for a long time, collecting its thoughts. It was still there; I could feel the occasional burst of emotion from it as odd reflections of my own. It could make me move when it needed to, but only when I was frozen by indecision or not carrying out a necessary action to deal with a threat. For now, it was busily coming up with an answer, and taking far too long to do it.
‘Can’t make that decision for you,’ it said, the echoing voice trailing off. It was gathering its strength before saying more. ‘Werewolves make dangerous opponents. They have superior senses of smell and hearing, which means it is next to impossible to sneak up on them. However, they are all intensely allergic to silver, and with me to augment your skills you should be able to match their speed, if not their strength. Only an alpha like your ex might have the speed to outmatch you in hand-to-hand combat. If you are willing to take the risks inherent in fighting something with greater reach and strength, we may be able to take him down. I can formulate a plan to do as much during the day. Do you want to proceed?’
I thought about it. It listened in, seeing everything I saw, feeling everything I felt, knowing my answer before I spoke aloud. “I’m not sure yet. Let me know what you think up. I’ll come to you as soon as I get home from work tonight.”
‘Don’t try anything during the day,’ it warned, voice fading. The sun must have been rising behind the thick thunderclouds outside. ‘Stay clear of them all, even the Moonwalkers. They come offering peace, but you saw where trusting one of their kind got you.’
“I’ll be careful,” I promised, lightly touching the leather even as the tension holding it together faded. The belt loosened around my waist, signaling that the spirit was gone for the day. “Very careful.”
Bolstered by coffee and the promise of assistance, I wandered over to listen to my voice mail, sipping my coffee as the messages played.
Sara had left one around 8:30 last night that she was home and she’d pick me up on her way in to the office at around ten this morning. My brother Mike left one asking if I was back yet, why I wasn’t picking up my cell, and asking me to call him as soon as I got the message. He sounded agitated, but he’d just have to wait until I was in a better frame of mind before I called him back. Chaz had left one, too, but I savagely slammed the delete button as soon as I recognized his voice.
Then came Royce’s voice, late, past midnight, pleasant and smooth as it always was.
“Ms. Waynest, I’m sorry I missed your call. I trust you got my message before you left for your vacation, though I do hope nothing untoward occurred during your time out of town. If you still need to speak with me, I’ll have my cell phone on me the rest of the night. Call me anytime.”
I had to hunt for the phone buried under the covers somewhere on my bed. I’d been so dead to the world I hadn’t heard it ring, even though I’d s
omehow shoved it under my favorite pillow. Settling cross-legged on the bed, I picked at a loose thread on my nightshirt as I listened to Royce’s phone ring, not quite sure whether or not I was hoping he’d bedded down for the day.
Just as I was about to hang up, he picked up.
“Ms. Waynest. You called?”
“Yeah, I did,” I said, hating my sudden bashful stammering. Last night, thinking nothing but angry thoughts about Chaz and the Sunstrikers had done plenty to boost me with false courage. Now, though it was necessary that I speak with him right away, I was regretting ever calling the vampire.
“Well then. What can I do for you?”
“I—I’m sorry. I need a sec to get myself together,” I admitted, leaning forward to balance my forehead against my palm.
He made a sound of frustration, faint but unmistakable. “I do hope you don’t consider me responsible for whatever may have happened while you were out of town. I have little control over the Were population, and did not have enough time to sufficiently prepare—”
“Royce, shut up,” I demanded, though my heart leapt into my throat once the words left my lips. Telling him off wasn’t a great way to start off this conversation, but neither was letting him go on about how much he hoped he hadn’t been implicated in something he had no control over. “I’m sorry. Actually, no, I’m not sorry. But I need you to be quiet and listen to me for a minute. Can you do that?”
“Very well,” he said, wariness undisguised. He knew as well as I did that, while the belt would do well against werewolves, it had always been intended for vampires. I knew his daytime resting place, too. He had good reason to bear me a measure of respect, even if it was due to an unspoken threat I’d never carry out against him. “What did you want to tell me?”
“I’m going to say some things to you in confidence. I need your word that you’ll keep this to yourself.”
“You have it. Speak freely.”
If nothing else, I trusted the vampire to be truthful. He might bend and reshape the facts to suit his whims, but he was never completely dishonest with me. “Okay. First, I need to know something about our contract. I need to know what it might mean for us if I turn Were.”