by Bree Moore
“Becca,” Quinn said, his hand on her arm. She backed down, still fuming. Tyson stared at her. Having heard similar from Harper, he was starting to realize Naturalization had a negative impact that he had never considered before. One he sort of just…ignored. No, not ignored. Justified.
Quinn stared steadily at Tyson. “I could function without my wings, but you don’t realize how much they are part of me. I could never see myself living life without them. I would rather die.”
He glanced at Becca, who still seemed pissed even though she’d calmed down somewhat. The silence thickened the air in the room.
“Quinn is looking for someone,” Becca blurted. Quinn tensed. “You might not know her, but—”
“His sister, right?” It was satisfying to see the shock on their faces. “She’s at the camp.” Tyson watched Quinn’s expression morph from a smooth mask into something else. Fury? Grief?
“No.”
He’d never heard so much anguish in a single word.
“Quinn,” Becca said softly. “Quinn, it’s all right. Nothing has happened to her. Tyson can tell us what he knows.”
“She’s all right,” Tyson said in a rush. “Tried to escape once already, that’s all.”
Quinn snorted. “Of course she has. How many times did I try?” He glanced to Becca.
“A dozen, I think.” Becca noticed Tyson’s shocked expression. “They didn’t know about all of the ones that failed. We aborted a few before they’d really begun. They knew about enough to decide they were pulling Quinn’s application, though. It’s what convinced us it was now or never.”
Tyson looked to Quinn, then back to Becca. “How did you get out? Everyone is still pissed about that, by the way. No one can figure how you did it.”
“I made this.” Becca pulled a device from her pocket and handed it to Tyson. He turned it over in his hands. A disc constructed of plastic and metal, unremarkable and with very little detail on it. “It works via an app I created. Basically, the pulse it sends out neutralizes magic in a targeted area.”
“What’s the range?”
“Only about twenty feet. I’m working on increasing it, but I’d have to increase the size of the device, and I like that it fits in my pocket.” She laughed. “Quinn came up with the idea, but I knew how to execute it. It glitches now and then. It took us three tries to get it to stay functioning long enough to get out, and one of us almost got left behind.”
“I’m surprised you escaped together. Why not just get Quinn out and then leave later?”
Becca shook her head. “We were already known to be too close for me to get out without scrutiny.”
Quinn chuckled. “Is that what we’re telling him?”
Becca stuck her tongue out at him, but Tyson saw the teasing in her expression. “What? It’s true.”
“Sure.” He grinned, staring into her eyes, and Becca gave a little laugh, putting her hand on his chest. It was like they’d forgotten Tyson was there.
Tyson cleared his throat. “Uh, guys? Anything else you want to tell me?”
Quinn broke their gaze. “Um, you’re out of groceries.”
“We’re starving.”
Tyson shook his head. Becca and her exaggerations. He crossed his arms and waited.
“Quinn’s just really worried about Harper,” Becca said. Quinn gave her a wounded look. “What? You are. And I wanted Tyson to know. It’s critical that we get her out of that camp, for her sake and yours.”
“Yes.” Quinn rubbed at Becca’s hand, agitated. “I haven’t contacted Harper in months, and now she’s stuck in that place without someone to support her.” He looked at Becca, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth.
“I’ve been supporting her.” Tyson straightened. Quinn raised his eyebrows.
Becca smiled sadly. “No offense, Tyson, but it’s your job. I guarantee she knows that, and that she’s either ignoring you or playing you to help her escape.”
The truth stung. Tyson’s shoulders slumped. “I know. I know that. I do.”
“Also, we’re going to Alaska. You could come.” Becca’s voice lilted up with a hopeful note.
“What?” Tyson’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat.
“Would that be so bad?” Becca cocked her head. He stared pointedly at her. “Okay, I get it, you don’t want to be a criminal. Too bad, it’s kinda fun.”
Only Becca would think that. Tyson tried again, nodding to Quinn. “Looking for your parents, right?”
“She told you?” Quinn asked.
“That’s where my grandmother and grandpa were from. Alaska.” Tyson replied. Strange to think their families were from the same place.
“I still don’t trust you.” Quinn stood, yanking his hand out of Becca’s and approaching Tyson, who backed up until he hit the wall. Quinn loomed over him. “How well do you really know your cousin, Becca? He could still be on their side.”
“Quinn, this is silly.”
Quinn leaned in closer, his breath hot on Tyson’s face.
Tyson turned away slightly to avoid the pungent, warm air. “You know what, you don’t have to tell me anything about your plan. Just get out of my apartment. I’ll take a message to Harper, but that’s all I told her I would do. I won’t tell anyone you were here, or where you’re going.”
There was a knock a few doors down, and Tyson jumped a little. He breathed a few times to get his heart rate down.
Quinn’s golden-brown eyes watched Tyson with a hawk-like intensity. He took a shuddering breath. “Okay.” He backed off, flopping next to Becca on the couch.
Okay. A single word that kept Tyson from being pummeled into his own wall.
Another knock came next door, sounding closer this time. The Stiffs? Tyson’s mind buzzed, but he dismissed the anxious thoughts. Stiffs didn’t knock politely. They bashed down doors. Probably just a friend of his neighbor. He tried to focus on Quinn’s face, to read what he thought or felt. How did he keep his expression so stone-like?
“I thought you’d help.” Becca’s voice sounded small.
Tyson closed his eyes, then forced them open and looked at her. “Harper is better off in the camp. Maybe she’ll do better knowing you’re all right. I can tell her that.”
Quinn clenched his free hand, the other gripped in Becca’s. “That’s not your choice to make.”
“But it’s the choice you’re asking me to make. My whole career could go up in smoke. I could be imprisoned. Her blood would be on my hands if we fail.” The full implication of the situation hit Tyson. He didn’t see it before, faced with Harper’s hopeful reasoning in his office. “I can’t do it.”
“What is wrong with you?”
“Becca, please,” Tyson widened his eyes, hoping she saw the pleading in them. He needed her to understand. “I know you’re upset, but I can’t see any good coming of this.”
“Your priorities are messed up if you’ll put your comfort and safety above someone else’s life.” She seethed with anger.
“She won’t die if she’s Naturalized,” Tyson insisted.
“That’s what you think.” Becca paced the floor with clenched fists. “You’re the psychologist. Has your mentor shared the statistics with you yet?”
“What statistics?”
Becca’s eyes narrowed. “Suicide rates in paranormals after Naturalization.”
“Well, of course I’ve heard some numbers, but ours are better than anywhere else in the country. We’re improving them significantly with our new follow-up program.” Tyson rubbed his hands on his jeans. “Look, you guys don’t need me. You can use your device like before.”
“Someone has to tell Harper where and when to meet us. For that, we need you.” Becca stabbed her finger toward him.
Tyson considered what she was saying. A messenger. They just needed a messenger. He could do that, right? What Harper did with the information was none of his business. And he wouldn’t be letting Becca down. “Fine. I can send her a
message when you need me to. But I’m not getting any closer to this.” And he was only willing to do as much because Harper had saved his life. He owed her something for that.
“Fine.” Becca’s anger was far from fading. Tyson hated it, but he couldn’t see another way without putting himself in their position. He couldn’t help anyone else at the camp if he got put in jail.
Tyson stood, straightening his shirt. “Good. That’s settled, then.” Neither of them would look at him. He flexed his fingers, shaking off his nerves. That strange buzzing sensation plagued his head, growing stronger. It felt like a warning.
A knock came at the door, and they all swung their heads toward it. Tyson was right beside the door and his hand was on the knob before he could think.
“Tyson, don’t— ” Becca cut off with a shriek. The room’s only window shattered behind him. Tyson spun around. Quinn stood on a skinny ledge outside the window, his black wings spread behind, balancing him. Becca stood between them, green eyes shining with disappointment. She took a breath.
“Becca, I—”
“I’ll call you.” She stepped through the window and wrapped her arms around Quinn’s neck. Tyson couldn’t see her face anymore. Quinn gripped her waist, and with a final stony glare in Tyson’s direction, he pushed off the ledge and fell. The doorway behind Tyson exploded as four men in black tactical armor burst into the room.
“Where did they go?” one of them demanded.
“I-I don’t know. I just got home and found them here.”
His chin jutted out, and he pointed to the couch. “Sit there.”
The others fanned out, sweeping every inch of the apartment. One of them brought in the cell phone, and Tyson closed his eyes. He had deleted the emails, but it wouldn’t take long for them to discover that she was his cousin.
“Just this, sir.” The man held it out to the one who spoke to Tyson. He must have been a captain of sorts.
The captain gestured to Tyson. “Open it.”
Trembling, Tyson took his phone and swiped it open. The man handed it to his captain, and Tyson watched with trepidation as he scrolled through it.
He glanced from the screen to Tyson’s face. “You work for the camp?”
Tyson licked his lips. “I do.”
“Why would they come here?”
“They wanted me to give them information about the camp.” The lie came easier than Tyson expected. It wasn’t fully a lie, to begin with. The least he could do was give them some time to escape.
“What kind of information?”
“They were just getting to that part when you got here.” Tyson’s leg tapped the floor, agitated by his nerves. He forced it still and tried to look earnest.
The captain considered Tyson. The other two men come up behind him. “Nothing here, sir,” one of them says.
“You’re free to go.” Tyon’s phone hit his lap. “But I’ll be speaking with your superiors. One of my men will stay on-site for a while in the event they try to return.” The captain nodded to a man on his left.
“Thank you,” Tyson played the part of a grateful innocent and trying not to think about what Violet would say when she heard that Becca had contacted him, Quinn in tow. The men filed out of the apartment. Tyson breathed in as the door shut behind them.
He stared at the broken glass on the floor. A breeze came through the permanently open window, exposing the sound of cars driving by outside. No matter how he tried to convince himself he was doing the right thing by not getting more deeply involved in Harper’s freedom, he couldn’t get rid of the gut-wrenching feeling that it wasn’t enough.
Chapter Eleven
Harper
Harper didn’t expect hell to have waffles for breakfast. She loaded up a plate, murmuring thanks to the guys serving, and made his way toward the tables. Where to sit? A glance told her Tyson wasn’t there. Facing the day felt harder knowing that he wouldn’t be there to talk to if things bombed, which they were bound to.
Who was she kidding? She didn’t need the shrink to make it through one day of Naturalization camp. Harper looked around the room.
Fletcher perched on top of windowsill across from where she stood, making silly expressions with his eyebrows and grinning, his blue wings blocking all of the sunlight streaming in from outside like he was showing them off. They were gorgeous, but his cocky charm was annoying. He also ate what Harper thought was liver, which sounded divine…just not for breakfast.
Kamri messed around with the other werewolves in the breakfast nook. Zeke had left a few minutes prior, after a hushed discussion with Lilith in the hallway. There were six massive guys sitting with Kamri. They talked loudly, slapping each other around and tossing food across the table, mostly varying degrees of cooked meat. Did they eat anything else?
Harper chose a seat at the opposite end of the long table near Fletcher. At the other end, tucked away in the shadows provided by Fletcher’s wings, three vampires sucked away at I.V. lines attached to bags filled with blood. One of them stared at Harper—a blonde, emaciated girl with hollow, haunted eyes. She drew long and hard from the tube, like smoking a cigarette, then locked the end of the line and crossed her arms.
Harper dropped her gaze too late.
“I heard you had a run-in with the rogues last night. Was Heath there?”
“I didn’t ask their names.”
“Did you kill any?” Her skinny fingers tapped on the table in front of her. Harper’s shoulder blades itched, but the bandages reminded her there wouldn’t be any escaping that way. Would she have any warning before the vamp leapt across the table and tried to suck her dry?
“I don’t think so, but I didn’t stick around.” Harper rolled her shoulders.
“Too busy saving your poor human friend.” The vamp’s voice dripped with scorn.
“Yes, too busy acting on the shred of humanity left inside me. Do you have any?”
She stood up from the table baring her fangs, eye color bleeding to red.
“Jade!” Lilith’s voice barked. “Stand down.”
Jade’s eyes faded back to a muddy brown. She leaned across the table, voice dropping low. “You won’t have her protection for long, bird brain. And there are worse things than death here.”
“Like being one of you,” Fletcher said. He flicked his right wing back, flashing sunlight at Jade. She shrieked and spun toward him. An acrid, charcoal-like smell reached Harper’s nostrils, and smoke rose from the back of Jade’s neck, the only part of her exposed above the collar of her leather jacket. Fletcher grinned and pushed off from the windowsill, landing on the kitchen island behind Harper, then hopping down to the floor. Jade crouched on the floor next to her friends, and all three hid their faces from the sun, hissing and cursing in Fletcher’s direction. He just laughed.
Lilith’s face twisted in a furious expression that transformed her into something horrifying rather than lovely. “I expect better from the lot of you. Especially you, Fletcher. Your Naturalization Reformation is in a few days!”
Fletcher’s head bowed and his wings drooped before they shrink into his back, the blue feathers disappearing. The vampire girls vanished. Fletcher lingered, looking as if he wanted to talk to Harper. Lilith cleared her throat and Fletcher hesitated, then gave Harper a little wave and hustled out of the room as if he had somewhere to be.
Harper pushed a few bites of waffle into her mouth, then grasped a lock of hair from just behind her ear and fidgeted with it, keeping her head down as conversation slowly returned to the kitchen, more muted than before.
A bell rang a few moments later, and everyone scattered. Plate empty, Harper headed for the kitchen sink. The lights on the fridge and pantry shone red. Breakfast was over.
Lilith sauntered over to Harper. “I have your class schedule. You start out with Naturalization Theory, then meet Zeke outside after lunch. Then a special session with me.” She winked, handing over a paper, a notebook, and a small pencil case.
Harper took the items from her. “Did Tyson make it home?”
Lilith raised her eyebrows. “Yes. Mr. Miller left last night. It’s kind of you to be so concerned about his well-being.”
Harper forced her mouth to widen in a smile. It felt false, but she did have something to be happy about. If Tyson’s cousin was at his place, and maybe Quinn with her, then Harper’s days there were numbered.
“Off to class, then,” Lilith said, matching Harper’s smile with a perfect one of her own. Harper walked past her toward the hallway on the other side of the house, where several classes were in session behind the closed doors. Harper stopped in front of the same classroom as yesterday. There were only five students and Mr. James Petrov standing in front of them.
Hand on the doorknob, Harper leaned forward and pressed her head against the door’s surface. She could skip. But everyone would know she had, and there might be consequences she wasn’t prepared to deal with. It would be better to pretend she was acclimating than to keep stirring the pot and causing trouble. Easier to escape if she got everyone to think she was going along with it all.
The knob turned in Harper’s hand and the door swung open. She fell forward, stumbling to catch herself before she sprawled on the linoleum floor.
“Harper, it is good to see you in class. For real this time, I expect?” Mr. Petrov closed the door behind her and walked to his place at the whiteboard in front of the class. He gestured at the chairs, where the five students sat, staring. Ian was among them, to Harper’s surprise. He gave her a small smile as he peered up through his hair.
Harper unclenched her hands and chose a seat on an aisle next to Ian, but one seat back so she wasn’t right beside him. Hopefully, her anxiety wasn’t too obvious. If there were any werewolves in the room, no doubt they could smell it on her.
“Welcome to Naturalization Theory. This first class of the day is for those who are new, and others who might be struggling to progress toward Naturalization ideals. We welcome debate and the voicing of all opinions, but not name calling or displays of paranormalcy.” Mr. Petrov peered over his spectacles. Harper slunk down in her seat. “Now, who wants to give Harper a brief review of our recent week's discussion?”