by Hettie Ivers
“About that …” I stopped pacing to level my pointer finger at him. “We need to discuss the issue of Milena’s power. But later.” I resumed pacing. “After we recover Avery. Why are you still here? I need those soldiers.”
“Issue?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Since when is Milena’s power an issue? Or something that is up for discussion? It’s a fact, Al—and a positive one at that. Milena’s the best thing that ever happened to our pack.”
I nodded and paced. “I don’t disagree. But what if we made a mistake ten years ago—in disabling her guilt reflex?”
“We didn’t disable it; we balanced it.”
“What if we balanced it too far in the wrong direction?”
“It’s Milena,” Kai reasoned. “She’s the most levelheaded and fair-minded among us. She’s fixated on fairness and justice in all things.”
I couldn’t dispute that either. “Right, but what if in balancing it we accelerated her power development a little too far? Maybe we should’ve let it balance on its own as she matured? I’m just wondering if—”
“Are you serious? Al, we had to. That was the whole point—to accelerate her ability to honor her own instincts and innate self-preservation faculties that were being thwarted too often by that Catholic-girl predisposition of hers to feel as if everything was always her fault. I disagreed with you at the time, but in hindsight, it’s one of the best calls you’ve ever made.”
I nodded, only half-listening as I pulled Avery’s phone from my pocket once more. I redialed “Friend” this time as Kai continued to rationalize and justify our interference in Milena’s psyche a decade ago.
“Milena might’ve let Raul guilt-trip and manipulate her forever. She might’ve been paralyzed by the shame of success and plagued by indecision for decades before she grew out of that habit. She never would’ve been able to lead our pack, Al. And besides, it was only a subtle shift that Remy and I made. We did the right thing.”
“Goddamnit.” I threw a blast that incinerated the coffee table when the call went straight to voicemail for the umpteenth time. “This is all my fault. I never should’ve let Avery shower alone.”
Avery
Three shots later, my heart didn’t feel any better about this Lupe development. I couldn’t decide if it was jealousy I felt over his fifty-year friendship with his housekeeper or disappointment at the prospect that Alcaeus might only see me as some sort of “rescue case,” too. To make matters worse, I’d reached the point of inebriation—which had only happened to me a handful of times since turning into a super-canine. It was hard to accomplish as a werewolf, given our rapid metabolism.
“You’re saying that Lupe was the guilty sacrifice part of the stolen eye prophecy?”
“Innocent,” Raul corrected me, stifling a yawn. “She was the guilty innocent caught between two rival packs whose untimely death was prophesied to spark a war between them. She was the stolen eye—the unforgivable sacrifice.”
“Right.” I nodded, rubbing my temple. “Makes perfect sense.” He yawned again, prompting me to tease, “I thought superbeasts like you never got tired. Is this your polite way of saying you want to call it a night?”
He smiled. “Trust me, I’m not that polite. Just a bit more tired lately.”
Raul had explained that Lupe’s suicide had been more of a sacrificial act—hence the “unforgivable sacrifice” designation. Lupe had made a deal with a powerful undead female werelock named Maribel—a former member of the Reinoso pack who had been hanging out in the ether for ninety-eight years, stealing just enough life energy to remain in limbo by draining the life force from the terminally ill or the dying in order to sustain herself. And sometimes just killing people outright, along with consuming the occasional soul when she needed a power boost.
Raul had been vague about the details of how Lupe had allowed herself to be used as Maribel’s medium. He’d said it involved helping Maribel gain access to a defective part of a blood curse that Alpha Milena had been harboring at the time. Lupe had agreed to her role in Maribel’s scheme in exchange for Maribel severing Lupe’s bond to Nahuel—so that Lupe could die without fear of potentially being tied for all eternity to a man she despised.
Raul had been equally vague about why Maribel had needed the defective part of Milena’s blood curse.
“Is it because Nahuel bit her that Lupe was tied to him?”
“Nah, Lupe lopped his head off before he ever had a chance to mark her.” Raul pulled his phone out and powered it on. “I think it’s just the fact that they were mates from the moment Nahuel saw Lupe. Plus, they obviously consummated their union.” He shrugged, distracted by his phone as the screen lit up. “Not really sure how it all works.”
Great. This tracked with what Chaos had said about he and I being mated from the moment we saw one another. And we’d also consummated. “So what exactly does the bite do then?”
Another shrug. “I dunno. I guess it solidifies the bond even more or something.”
This shit was depressing. Because a part of me—the part who looked and felt a lot like my inner bitch—was perversely excited about being irrevocably tied to Alcaeus.
“So I should never mate-bite anyone? Is that my takeaway?” Whoops—too late, sucka. Already went there. I could practically feel my inner she-wolf doing a touchdown dance.
Raul abruptly burst out laughing. He pounded his fist against the table—rattling our empty shot glasses in the process—as he fell into a fit of hysterics over whatever it was he’d just read in his phone messages, it seemed.
“Ah, God, this is priceless.” He shook his head at his phone as he flipped through more messages he’d missed while it had been off. When at last he stopped chuckling to himself, he powered the device off again and gave me his full attention. “Your takeaway, Avery, is that Alcaeus isn’t your friend. He’s not on your side.” He grinned. “I am.”
We’d come full circle. “Okay, okay, point made: Alcaeus is my enemy. Got it. Will you buy me more fries now? And those fish tacos that woman over there is noshing on look phenom.” I pointed to a table about ten feet away. “I need those too. Oh, and by the way, I’ll never tell you where my daughter is.”
His grin gave way to a sober look of impatience. “Our supernatural world has become firmly divided into two camps at this point—those who want the Rogue to prevail because they view the Rogue as a savior and liberator of our species, and those who see the Rogue as an evil threat bent on destroying humankind—and in attempting to do so, possibly getting our species annihilated,” he lectured. “My pack—the Salvatella pack—views the Rogue as the former and is eager to find and protect her. The Reinoso pack believes the Rogue must be destroyed at any cost.”
“Yeah. I think we covered this already. I’m not joining your Salvatella pack.”
“What if I’m not asking you to join the Salvatella pack?” He leaned in, scooting closer on the bench seat and invading my space. “What if it was only me and not my pack? What if I went on the run with you and Sloane and we started our own pack?”
My brows pulled together. His proposal was preposterous, and yet he seemed dead serious about it. “No offense, Raul, but I’m just not into you.”
He rolled his eyes. “For last time, I’m not hitting on you. I’m trying to save your life and the life of your child.”
“That a ‘no’ to the fries and fish tacos, then?”
“Hunting and destroying the Rogue is all Alcaeus has ever preached, Avery.” His mouth thinned into a hard line. “His father, Antonio, who was Alpha before him, was crazy dogmatic in his interpretation of the Rogue prophecy. Hunting and destroying rogue werewolves—and ultimately destroying the Rogue in specific—has been a primary ongoing mission of the Reinoso pack throughout Alcaeus’s life. Believe me, I know. My dad participated in their rogue hunting missions in America. It’s how he met my mom.”
I knew I needed to hear this. Because I needed to get my head knocked back on straight. It didn’t make it
any less painful to come to grips with the fact that I’d shagged and bitten and was still actively lusting after a man who was possibly the greatest threat to my daughter’s existence, though.
“I know you like to work alone. And you’ve done an admirable job of protecting Sloane up to this point. But your world is about to change—you must realize you’re running out of time. The decade of no light has shielded the Rogue from both camps. But in a few months, the decade of no light will end.”
Shit. This was the piece that Wyatt and I hadn’t been able to figure out. I should’ve asked Raul about it sooner instead of getting distracted by the story of Alcaeus and Lupe.
“Wait—what does that mean?” I asked. “What’s it about—this great race to find and eliminate the Rogue before the end of the decade of no light? What’s going to change?”
His face scrunched up like I’d asked a ridiculous question. “Are you serious? Have you not noticed how fucking obsessed our species is with prophecies, psychics, and the like?”
“Of course I’ve noticed that, but—”
“Everyone believes that the next generation of seers are bound to start coming into their powers at the decade of no light’s end. In a few months, the search will be on for the next great seer—you know, so that he or she can tell us all what’s coming next and what to do with ourselves about it,” he said with no small measure of sarcasm. “It can amount to bad news and good news on both sides. But either way, for you and Sloane, it means that there may be virtually nowhere that you’ll be able to hide anymore.”
My mouth went dry. My heart raced. “I’ll take my chances. We’ll be fine.” I felt suddenly desperate to get home to Sloane.
“Jesus, you don’t get it.” He slammed his palm down onto the tabletop, rattling our shot glasses once more. “You wanna know why I’m tired? Because Sloane has recurring nightmares, that’s why. Did you know that?”
My racing heart stalled for a moment at Raul’s words; then I reminded myself that there was no way that he knew. “All kids have nightmares from time to time,” I responded carefully.
“Right.” He nodded slowly, his throat working. “But Sloane’s are bad. Lately, they’re always about explosions.” His eyes held mine, gauging my reaction. “She has recurring nightmares where she’s trapped in a ball of fire that she can’t escape from. Doesn’t she?”
I couldn’t process this. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumbled, moving to stand.
He grabbed my wrist and jerked me back down to my seat. “I know you think I’m some kind of creep … a supernatural opportunist who is a danger to your daughter.” He paused, his eyes lowering to the tabletop. “And, well, maybe I am—or was—just that.” His brown eyes returned to me, pleading. “But I swear, I only found you because Sloane found me first.”
I hadn’t a moment to digest what he’d said before he continued quickly, “I can’t gain access to Sloane’s mind or yours. But somehow Sloane is able to draw me into her subconscious when she wants to. I don’t think she knows who I am, why or how she’s doing it, but she’s doing it more and more. She does it when she’s having nightmares, so I don’t think she can control it.”
He paused, regarding me anxiously, before he said, “I think that maybe when she gets scared, she reaches out blindly to those she has an unconscious connection to who she thinks can help her. But if she can do that with me, then she can do it with others, which means you may not even have a few more months that you’ll be able to remain hidden. She could inadvertently draw enemies to you sooner.”
“Connection to you?” I hissed, my voice barely carrying as I fought to process the horror of what he was claiming. “You sick fuck. My daughter has no connection to you. She’s a child. And you don’t know her!”
I realized I might have shouted the last part loudly enough for the whole restaurant to hear when Raul’s hand clamped over my mouth and I was yanked flush against him, all but pulled into his lap.
“You are missing the fucking point,” he spoke in my ear. “Focusing on your worst motherly fears while ignoring the greater danger to your daughter. I am not that kind of predator.”
“You’re the insane kind.” My words were smothered against his palm, muffled and unintelligible to everyone else in the room but us. “How could anything you’re saying possibly be true?”
“Because if you believe that souls are eternal,” he spoke calmly in my ear, “then maybe you can believe that Sloane was someone else before she was born as Sloane. And that maybe her spirit knew me before. Maybe … I was one of the last connections to this world that she had before she left it. Maybe on some level … she feels that connection to me still—even if she doesn’t understand it.”
“You’re lying. My daughter doesn’t connect, you ass,” I shouted into his palm. “She’s the goddamned Rogue. Don’t you get it?” I felt tears well up in my eyes.
I willed them away. I was on the brink of hysteria. And I couldn’t afford to have a breakdown.
Not now.
He was lying. He had to be. My daughter wouldn’t reach out to some stranger in her sleep when she was scared. Our connection might’ve been fragile, but any connection Sloane felt to anyone, she felt with me.
Me. I was her mother! I was her protector. She wouldn’t pick some pretty-boy surfer werelock over me to come to her rescue—unconsciously or otherwise—even if he did have greater, cooler powers than I had.
My vision went red. Then it went black as the blood roared in my ears and I confronted the same insidious fear that had taunted me from day one: the fear that I wouldn’t be enough to protect my own child. That no matter how strong or clever I was, ultimately, I would never be strong or clever enough to protect Sloane from the world of hunters and opportunists who were destined to seek her.
Even Sloane knew I was so outclassed that I was bound to get myself killed. That’s why she kept warning me away.
I heard Raul shushing me and telling me to calm down as he dabbed a cloth to my eyes. I heard a woman’s voice asking if I was all right, too. And then I felt Raul press a kiss to my forehead as he responded, “We just got engaged. She’s a little emotional.”
Alcaeus
Once Kai had teleported to and from Morumbi ten times, returning with a total of twenty soldiers, in addition to Remy, to aid us in our search for Avery, Kai and I went out to look for her ourselves, teleporting all over Denver. We’d canvassed Union Station and every corner of LoDo, LoHi, Wash Park, Cherry Creek, Uptown, RiNo, and Capitol Hill when Remy tapped my mind and said that he had news.
Kai teleported us back to the hotel suite, where Remy had been busy reaching out via phone and videoconference to various contacts across the U.S. that he said he’d gotten from Lessa.
“I just heard from a small pack in North Carolina,” Remy announced upon our arrival. “They recognized Avery from the photos I circulated to werewolf packs across America.”
“You did what?” I shouted. “What photos? Who told you to circulate my mate’s photo to enemy packs? Goddamnit, Remy, I thought you had specific contacts you were working with who we could trust to be discreet about this?”
“Riiight,” Remy said in a maddeningly calm, patronizing voice as his green eyes squinted questioningly at me before cutting to Kai.
Fucking Remy and his bullshit touchy-feely empathic powers. He’d been trying to read my emotions and force his calming mojo on me ever since he’d arrived—lecturing me about how all the angry, threatening texts I’d fired off to Raul from Avery’s phone would only put her life in more danger. And now he was treating me as if I was the one overreacting, when he’d just put my mate’s life in jeopardy by blasting her photo across the Internet to American packs who, like the Highlands Ranch pack, might be out to kill her simply because she’d survived a rogue attack.
“They’re not enemy packs,” Remy defended evenly. “These are all American packs on the list that Lessa identified as being on our side—at least as far as wanting to destroy
the Rogue.”
That was exactly my fear. The Highlands Ranch pack had been on Lessa’s list. “Lessa gave you that list?”
“Well,” Remy said with a sheepish shrug, “I kind of swiped it from her computer files when she said she had an emergency of her own to manage and couldn’t help us.”
“What did the North Carolina pack have to say about Avery, Remy?” Kai interjected.
“The East Lake pack knew Avery as ‘Holly Bishop Carmichael,’ actually,” Remy said, reading from the notes on the pad of paper in his hand. “They said she was nine months pregnant at the time that she came to them, reportedly fleeing from an abusive ex-boyfriend werewolf who had knocked her up.”
“Pregnant? What? Who? He’s a dead man. Did you get the name of the ex-boyfriend?”
Kai covered his face with his hand and exhaled audibly next to me. “Yes, let’s make sure we track down that abusive ex-boyfriend werewolf of hers. I’m sure he’s every bit as real as Avery’s ‘Holly Bishop Carmichael’ identity.”
“It’s not the same thing!” I snapped. “He could very well be real.”
“Ah …” Remy held one finger up as he again referred to his notepad. “You should know, Avery has also been identified as Franchesca Amelia Dupont, Paris Kenya Watterson, Theresa Jane Havensworth, Charlotte Anne Rousseau, Gertrude Katarina York, Arabella Justine DePaul, Camilla Beatrice Ravenscroft, Jacqueline Grey Margot …” He paused to look up from his notepad. “Shall I continue? There are a few more names that various packs and rogue hunters have assigned to her image.”
“No, please don’t,” Kai said. “When was she with the North Carolina pack?”
Remy glanced back down at his notepad. “She came to them seeking shelter on May seventeenth, 2014, and they helped her give birth to a baby girl on June thirteenth, 2014.”