Dr. Jones burst into the room and pulled Derek off his mother’s lap, and floating strangely separate from him, I tumbled to the floor for a moment and stood a few feet away before I was pulled back into the odd space behind his eyes.
“Maybe it’s not too late,” Dr. Jones murmured, trying to calm Mommy as a red stain began to spread across her slacks. “Let’s just try and make you comfortable.… Calm down,” she insisted. “Just calm down.” She looked around at us, her eyes narrowing behind the lenses of her stylish glasses. “Leave the room,” she commanded as Mommy began to wail.
Her eyes were wide and terrible with hate burning behind them. “Go—get out of my sight, you, you … monster,” she sobbed.
We tumbled backward at the word and stumbled out the door. Monster? Our heart raced and we stood with our back to the wall as Mommy moaned and Jones tried to speak calming words.
“Concentrate on breathing—good, good, slow your heartbeat like I taught you.…”
“Derek…,” she murmured.
“Stop now—stop. Forget about him. I’ll take care of this new development. Don’t you worry.”
We stayed by the door, standing still as a victim in a horror movie, watching the scene unfold.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Dr. Jones repeated, sounding like she was trying to reassure herself as much as Derek’s mother. “The worst has passed. Just relax and everything will be fine.…”
Even with the water turned all the way to hot, I shivered, and stepping onto the rug to towel off, I realized I wasn’t just wiping water away from my face, I was also wiping away tears.
He’d been so young when he’d discovered so much power.
And so young when he died, having only used that power to manipulate others and feed on his friends.
Even more tired than when I’d started my shower, I walked to my room, pulled my door shut, and collapsed on my bed. I wanted answers—that was true. It was the curse of being a reporter or a writer—the need to know.
But I also just wanted to blame Derek. To set his memory on a shelf somewhere to gather dust without understanding his actions. I didn’t want to empathize with someone who fed on his friends and killed them to get one last high.
That was one thing I could live without understanding.
If I could just begin to control it …
* * *
Sleep came quickly, and almost as quickly I was sucked into a dream.
Derek and I stood as one, and still as stone, by a doorway that was only open a crack. As much as I’d known about Derek—or thought I’d known about Derek—I’d never imagined him to be much for eavesdropping. Of course, I’d also never imagined him having been bred for a paranormal purpose, or being used and despised and misunderstood so early on.
He’d been just a kid when his powers started developing. And how could he have possibly known the impact his powers would have at that age?
There was an old Native American proverb I remembered about walking a mile in someone else’s shoes before you tried to judge them. Derek might no longer have shoes (or corporeal form) for me to walk a mile in, but the creepy way I now stood and peered out from just behind his eyes … that definitely gave me a different view of him and the people who should have loved and protected him.
From himself as much as from them.
Dr. Jones was speaking and we pressed our face into the narrow opening to catch a peek of her as she leaned close to Mommy. “Of course it must be devastating to nearly lose a baby after miscarrying the last one so recently. But our girl’s still in there. Still waiting for the right time to be born. So this hasn’t been a complete loss.”
Mommy shook her head, tears rolling slowly down her face.
I focused, wanting to speed through this. Images moved faster, words sped and began to blur.…
“Andconsiderwhatwe’velearned”—too fast … I slowed the memory down—“… about Derek as a result,” Dr. Jones said, straightening up to pace before the large picture window with its elegant stained-glass top. “Now we know what happened to the last fetus. We understand why you lost it, and now we can prevent the same thing from happening again.”
“I won’t let him touch me again,” Mommy whispered, her head still moving, loose on her neck. “You can find someone else to train him.…”
“No. Oh, no. I don’t think that would work. No. Not at all,” Dr. Jones said firmly. “While I agree a physical distance must be maintained for the safety of this baby,” she said, looking at Mommy’s broad belly, “I still think the only one Derek is truly capable of working with is you.”
“No.”
“You really don’t have an option.”
“I’ll leave the program.”
Dr. Jones snorted. “Really? And do what? They are both program babies. I’d rather not push it, but there are ways you might still lose them both. Very quiet and completely legal ways,” she said with a sweet smile. “There is a reason we have you sign the documents you do and a reason Derek only knows me as his aunt.”
“You would take my children from me?”
“You didn’t seriously believe we wouldn’t, did you? After all the time, money, and research we invested in both you and your husband. Did you really think you could take some moral stand about family and we’d fold and walk away?”
“Not a moral one,” Mommy whispered. “I abandoned my morals and integrity the day I let you convince me this was the right thing to do.”
I tried again, speeding the sounds and images and then slowing them again when my head spun.
I could control this.
“Ah, but you loved him. And the program was the only way to get your hooks into him, wasn’t it? Come now, we’re both women of the world. You knew you needed something more than just good social standing to attract Franklin. And let’s be honest. Your looks have never been enough to make a man of his caliber stay around past the morning after.”
“I sold my soul.”
I reversed the memory a heartbeat or two. Could I change what she said?
“I sold my soul.”
No.
I tried to shift Derek—to look somewhere else.
I was stuck unless I pulled out of him, moving like I was stuck in taffy, and let nausea take hold of me.
So much for true control or the ability to change things.
“For a chance at love,” Dr. Jones cooed. “Who wouldn’t have done the same? Pity it hasn’t worked out like the fairy tale you envisioned. Not by a long shot. But you have a lovely house, you are well connected, and women envy you. Though I imagine it must be exhausting trying to keep up with him—trying to figure out who he’s seeing on the side.”
Mommy looked away.
“There’s the pity—you still care. Don’t you?” Dr. Jones marveled at Mommy’s reaction, the way she folded in on herself, shame plain in her features. “The point is, you both signed papers putting me in a familial position with the ability to not only question your mental and emotional stability and raise significant concerns regarding your capability to raise your children, but you also granted me the ability to invoke power of attorney.”
Mommy sobbed openly now.
Dr. Jones rested a hand on her shoulder, giving it a comradely shake. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were young. I dare say optimistic.”
“What must I do?”
“Keep up appearances. Don’t allow Derek to be in physical contact with you for long. Not long at all. But continue his training precisely as I prescribe.” Dr. Jones handed Mommy a notebook open to a particular page. She tapped the writing with her tip of her fingernail.
“Teach him to feed?” Mommy shook her head. “What does that even mean?” She pulled back then, the notebook flopping to the ground, open. “Oh. No. I won’t teach him to be a … No. Absolutely not.”
“A what? A monster?” Dr. Jones asked, her tone mocking. “It’s not something you have to teach him. It’s what he already is. What he always has been. We just have
to harness it and train him to be the type of monster we want.”
The hairs rose on our arms, and my vision bled with black as Derek’s world thinned and released me, letting me fall back into my own body, alone. I woke and tugged my heavy blanket up, snuggling as far under it as I could.
But it didn’t matter. I couldn’t get warm, knowing what I did.
The next days passed much the same way, healing up, seeing the Rusakovas and trying to figure out how to deal with Derek’s head stuck in my head, day and night.
CHAPTER NINE
Marlaena
I woke to find Gareth gone. The spot where he’d slept at my side was cold, the sheets rumpled as if he’d made a sudden decision he wasn’t ready to tell me about. I fumbled for my phone, but my call went straight to his voice mail.
Pulling back the curtains, I tried to spot the car in the parking lot below, but the angle was wrong. Cursing, I pulled my jeans on over my pj’s and stepped outside into winter’s biting morning breath.
The car was gone.
Gareth was gone.
I was alone with the last of the pups and no money.
Noah, Terra, and Gabe were still gone. We hadn’t felt safe enough to search for them and leave the rest of the pack exposed in case Dmitri had something else planned.
I wandered down the porch, knocking on the pups’ doors as I went. I’d get them dressed, get them packed, and take them down to the motel’s lobby to eat a final bowl of cereal and some preservative-rich baked goods the manager always set out as a sort of apology for the fact the toilets often plugged and the cleaning crew was less than perfect. Less than …
Less than average.
After everyone was packed and fed, we’d …
I wrapped my fingers around the banister and stared into the bleak face of winter.
We’d do something. We had to do something.
It just sucked not knowing what.
And knowing that any action I took in the future depended on the action Gareth was taking right now.
Without me.
Alexi
“Shall I grab my gun first or invite you inside for coffee?” I asked, seeing him at the door.
“I’d prefer a beverage to bullets,” Gareth admitted, “but I cannot blame you if you do not trust me.”
“It is good to know this is one of very few things I will not be blamed for.” I unlocked the door and motioned for him to come in. “Coffee is there, by the stove.” I motioned to the machine. “Mugs are in the cabinet above.”
“You won’t even pour it for me?”
“Nyet. I want both my eyes on you the entire time,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.
I turned away long enough to shout up the stairs, “We have company!” But I no longer needed to shout now the Queen Anne was again a den of wolves.
Max was down the stairs first, scrubbing a hand across his face. He pulled up short when he saw Gareth. “Company?” he snorted. “You should have said incoming!”
Gareth examined his coffee and gave the mug a little shake, watching as the contents swirled around inside.
Max rummaged through the fridge, looking for something. With Max, there was never any telling what he might decide was worthy as breakfast.
“Oh.” Cat tightened a plush pink robe around herself before joining us in the kitchen. “To what do we owe this distinct … pleasure?”
“Surprise would be the word,” Pietr corrected her, dodging around the other two to stand nearly toe to toe with Gareth. “What are you—” His nostrils flared briefly, and he looked puzzled. But his puzzled expression quickly changed. He took a step back, his gaze running the full length of Gareth as if he was trying to figure something out.
Something that distressed him more than a member of Marlaena’s pack standing in our kitchen, drinking our—
“Coffee?” Cat said, peering into Gareth’s cup a moment before she took it from him and dumped it summarily into the sink. She glared at me.
Gareth was stunned.
“I apologize for my brother’s lack of courtesy,” Cat said, her smile a touch too saccharine. “We are a somewhat less than proper household, that is true, but we do make it a point of brewing each of our guests a proper cup of tea.”
Amy stepped in. “I’ll put the kettle on,” she said to Cat as she stepped past her.
It was as if they’d rehearsed, as if I were watching some well-planned and well-executed ballet in our kitchen.
“I don’t—” Gareth began, warily eyeing the tin Cat opened.
“What?” she asked. “You don’t drink tea?” It was clear from her tone that refusal was not an option. Not in this particular Russian-American werewolf household.
Gareth smiled weakly. “I would’ve been content with coffee. I don’t want you put to any trouble.” His eyes found mine. “Not any trouble at all.”
“Then why have you found yourself on our doorstep this early on a very cold winter morning?” I asked, taking a sip from my own mug. “The coffee is”—I cast a glance toward the sink, then back to Gareth—“was exceptional this morning.”
He sighed. “May I sit?”
“Da. Yes, of course,” I said, pointing to a chair. “Please do tell us what a member of Marlaena’s pack is doing in the household of her rival’s boyfriend.”
Gareth sighed. “Throwing myself at your mercy. To ask for sanctuary.”
Jessie
Morning’s arrival was bittersweet. I certainly didn’t want to risk another dream of Derek’s far from savory past, but having had several already, I needed more sleep.
Desperately.
I stumbled into the kitchen bleary eyed and fumbled with the coffeepot.
Annabelle Lee stared at me a moment before putting down the book she’d been reading (my paranormal novel definitely forgotten) and grabbing everything I needed for a low-impact breakfast: bowl, spoon, milk, and cereal. She arranged it all on the table in front of me and pointed to the chair.
“I’m fine,” I muttered, flopping into the chair.
“Is it like running a marathon?” she asked. “You really only feel it after it’s over?”
I couldn’t help it. I smiled. “Comparing a marathon to a kidnapping.” I winked at her. “Oddly, yes.” I opened the cereal box and dumped some of it into the bowl, covering most of it with milk.
Anna watched me the whole time.
I ate my fill and shoved the bowl out of my way. I glanced at the cereal box, one word jumping out at me and making my eyes fly open in my race to the bathroom.
Vomiting up the cereal I’d barely managed to get down, the word danced in my head: FEED.
I needed to talk to Alexi.
Alexi
I sat back in my chair, surprised for the second time that morning. True, the coffee was exceptional this morning, but not nearly strong enough if this was the turn the conversation was destined to take. I set down my mug. “Sanctuary?”
“Yes,” he insisted, leaning forward. “We’ve been betrayed.”
“No honor in a den of thieves?” Pietr mused.
Cat and Amy just stood, gawking, by the stove as the kettle began to hiss.
“Dmitri and Gabriel have taken our money and two of our young pack members and disappeared. Our rent is due. Without money, there is no place for us to sleep and even if we had money—the motel is no longer safe.”
“So what do you expect us to do about it?” Max asked.
The teakettle whistled and everyone jumped.
“I do not expect you to do anything. But I hope you will exceed my expectations and help us. We need to find Noah and Terra. And we need a safe place to stay while we figure out how to do that.”
I shook my head. “You want to bring an entire pack—a pack that has willingly moved as our rivals and put our own family members at risk—into our home?”
Gareth pressed his lips together and waited.
“Nye—”
“Now, brother,” Cat cooed, sliding a fresh cup of
tea in front of Gareth, “let us not be hasty with our decisions. Let us first offer some small bit of hospitality to our guest and hear him out.”
“I’ve said almost all there is to say,” Gareth whispered.
Cat’s words were sharp, “Then drink the tea, Gareth.”
He tapped the teacup’s handle with a tentative finger. “Is that like ‘drink the Kool-Aid’? Because I didn’t come here to die. I came hoping for a chance to keep living.”
“Drink the damned tea, Gareth,” Cat snarled, and we all drew back, eyes wide.
Cat did not curse.
Not often.
“I will have a cup of tea,” I volunteered in hopes of making him understand Cat’s tea was no threat. Not even her cooking was a threat anymore. Much had changed since our arrival in Junction.
But she glared at me and shook her head. “Did I offer to make you a cup of tea, Sasha?”
“You didn’t really offer to make me a cup…,” Gareth pointed out, but she shot him a look filled with such venom that he quickly followed his statement us with, “Drinking the tea … drinking the tea…” Raising the dainty cup to his mouth, he sipped and Cat sighed, stepping back to lean against the counter and smile.
The kitchen fell into complete silence except for the sound of Gareth sipping tea and Cat’s occasional encouragement of “That’s a good boy” and “Just a bit more” and finally, “Finish up.”
She retrieved the cup and said over her shoulder, “Please restate the reason you want your pack to come stay with us, Gareth.”
“Because they are my family, and although they’ve made mistakes—big mistakes—they can be redeemed. But if we are kicked out on the street and forced to live on the run, in winter…”
Behind Gareth’s back Cat showed the cup to Amy, who shrugged at what she saw in its bottom. Cat’s smile only grew before she rinsed the leaves into the sink.
“You need not worry, Gareth,” she assured, resting a hand on his shoulder and fixing me with a stern look. “Your pack will have a place here with us at least until you’ve gotten Noah and Terra back.”
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