by Lori Drake
Joey shrugged off his hand and straightened in her chair. “Just go talk to Brandon, okay? I’m going to wait here for Itsuo.” She yawned, jaw popping in the process. “Or morning. Whichever comes first.”
Ben nodded, but grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it at her on his way past. Joey smirked, but murmured a thank you and shook the blanket open, drawing it around her as she listened to Ben’s footsteps retreat up the stairs. She was surprised she couldn’t see her breath, as cold as it was in the house. Eric was such a cheapskate. Now that she knew the house belonged to Chris, she was more than a little bit annoyed at how Eric had let it go over the years. Everywhere but his own room, apparently. She amended her internal assessment to selfish cheapskate.
What kind of Alpha hoarded all the good things for himself, relegating his pack to the aging cast-offs? A shitty Alpha, that was what. Was it fear of Eric or loyalty to Eric that kept the others guarding his secrets so closely?
She closed her eyes for a moment while the thoughts chased each other around inside her tired head like wolves chasing their tails. Was that what she’d been doing for the last two months? Chasing her own tail?
It’s not too late. You can still walk away.
The thought floated through her mind as she drifted on the edge of consciousness.
But what kind of alpha would that make me?
11
Chris trailed along behind Jessica as she carried his unconscious body down the hall. He’d been too shocked at first to do much but stare as she hoisted him into a fireman’s carry and made for the door. She’d listened at the door for a moment before opening it, peeking out, and slipping into the hallway. She moved pretty quietly for a woman carrying two hundred pounds of unconscious man over one shoulder.
“You do this a lot?” he asked, though of course he didn’t expect an answer. He had no idea what had sparked her sudden betrayal. Had she been playing him all along? What was she going to do with his poor, defenseless body? Fear filled him, second only to a boiling-hot rage. Just as the last time he’d been on the astral plane, his emotions were on overdrive. It was difficult to think clearly. To make matters worse, he found slipping back into his body to be impossible. Maybe it was the angle, or the fact that the body was in motion, jostled by each step, or maybe it was just his state of mind. Frustrated, he threw back his head and howled in outrage.
In the silence that followed, he heard a distant thump from upstairs. Jessica halted and glanced over her shoulder.
“You heard that too, eh?” Chris said, frowning.
Jessica began walking again, but Chris heard another noise from upstairs and started to get worried. Could the attacker be in the house, back for more? Worry ate at him as he continued down the hall, not wanting to lose track of his body but very much wanting to know what was going on.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, though whether to Jessica or his body, he wasn’t sure. He’d just blink upstairs real quick-like, then zoom in on Jessica and figure out what to do from there. Maybe he could possess her and jump off the pier or something. That’d keep her busy long enough for him to get back.
Chris jumped upward, launching himself through the ceiling to end up on the second floor. He found himself in a darkened bedroom, which was fortunately empty. From there, he had to pass through a few walls before he located the source of the mysterious thumping.
It was Kate, thumping her heels against the wall as Colt pinned her to it. He had her up off the floor, a hand clenched around her slender throat. She scratched and pried at his fingers, face dark from lack of breath.
“Colt! What the hell?” he exclaimed, and something very unexpected happened.
Colt turned his head and looked right at Chris, the whites of his eyes glowing in an eerie—but familiar—manner. When Harper had asked a spirit for help to see him, his eyes had glowed like that.
“Let her go,” Chris said.
“Or?” Colt’s voice sounded different. Gravelly, like stone sliding against stone.
A chill ran down Chris’s incorporeal spine, but he couldn’t let Colt—or whatever was inside Colt—kill Kate. He rushed the spirit-man, thinking to try and force him out of Colt, but when he grabbed for Colt to try and slip into him, his arms closed around a very solid form rather than passing into or through him.
The spirit-man threw him off, but released Kate in the meantime. She drew in a gasping breath and slid down the wall to cower on the floor.
“Run!” Chris called out, but she couldn’t hear him.
That seemed to strike spirit-Colt as particularly funny, because he threw back his head and laughed. “That’s my line,” he said eventually, turning back to look down at the cowering woman at his feet. “Run, little wolf. Run.”
She just covered her head with her arms and sobbed. “Please, Colt. This isn’t you…”
Chris winced. She had no idea how right she was. Seeing no other recourse, he rushed for them again, but this time, instead of going for Colt, he dove for Kate and slipped right inside her without issue. It took him a couple of seconds to orient himself, at which point he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Kate was hurting, seemingly everywhere. Her throat burned and her neck ached where spirit-Colt had strangled her, but there was more than that. Pain shot down one leg as he stood and her knee almost gave out. Apparently the spirit had roughed her up a bit already. Her stomach and face were also tender, and her eyes stung from crying.
The spirit swung a foot at Kate’s stomach and Chris crumpled around it as pain flared in his abdomen.
“Get up, bitch!” Colt’s voice sounded all too normal now, harshness aside, and when Chris looked up, the other man’s eyes no longer glowed. Nonetheless, there was no doubt in his mind that Colt was still far from himself.
“Trying…” Chris said, and struggled to his feet.
Colt tilted his head and frowned. “Who are you?”
“I’m Chris, who are you?”
Colt glowered at him. “This isn’t your fight. Get out of her.”
“She wasn’t putting up much of a fight. Does beating up on defenseless women make you feel like a big, bad spirit?”
A low growl was the only warning Chris got before Colt came flying at him. He attempted to dodge, but Kate’s knee did give out then, and dumped him on the floor. On the upside, Colt slammed into the wall instead of Kate. A framed photo, jarred off its nail by the impact, slid down the wall and hit the floor. The glass covering the photo shattered noisily.
Chris scrambled to his feet again and half walked, half hopped for the door. Kate was in no condition for a knock-down drag-out with this guy—whoever he was. He needed to get Kate out of the room, but a hand grabbed Kate’s long braid and yanked backward. Chris stumbled and almost fell again, but twisted on his good leg and kicked out with the bad one, managing to tag Colt’s knee. He howled and went down, but pulled Chris down with him by the hair.
They scrambled about on the floor, grappling for purchase. Chris was at a disadvantage. Kate was injured, smaller, and her strength—however supernatural—was no match for Colt’s. For an accountant, the guy was ripped. Chris used every tool in his arsenal. He kicked, punched, even bit whenever he could manage it. They rolled around on the floor, crashing into various pieces of furniture until Colt got Kate’s braid in his grip again and slammed her head against the floor a few times.
Dazed, Chris lay there while Colt got to his feet. Spots clouded Chris’s vision. He looked up at his assailant, who licked blood from a split lip, then smiled. It was a cruel, merciless smile, made all the more unsettling by the sheen of blood covering Colt’s teeth.
“Why—why are you doing this?” Chris managed to croak out. Kate’s ravaged throat didn’t have much more left in it.
“You know why, you stupid bitch. You’re going to pay for what you did. You all are.”
Had he forgotten Chris was inside her? Chris blinked up at him in confusion. “Did what? What did we do?”
�
��You know what you did!” Colt screamed at him, like they weren’t separated by only a few feet.
Thump thump thump.
Someone banged on the door. Colt spun to glare at it. Chris used the moment of distraction to crawl toward the first thing he saw that could be used as a weapon: a shard of glass from the shattered picture frame. He almost made it, but Colt grabbed his ankle and pulled him away at the last moment.
“Oh no you don’t!” Colt sneered.
THUMP THUMP THUMP!
“Help!” Chris croaked, but Kate’s throat wasn’t really up to the task. His fingers clawed at the floor for purchase but only raked the carpet with Kate’s short nails.
THUMP!
It sounded like someone was trying to break the door down. Hope flared within Chris. He twisted onto his back and kicked out at Colt again, but Colt dodged and then dropped to his knees, straddling Kate’s hips. Chris bucked and writhed, trying to throw him off to no avail. Colt’s laughter echoed in his ears even as his hands closed around Kate’s neck. Chris clawed at those hands, trying to pry Colt’s fingers up enough to suck in a breath, but Colt held on tightly. Arms locked, he squeezed harder, a demented sort of glee on his face as he watched Kate struggle for breath.
Chris swiftly became uncertain which thumps were on the door and which were the pounding of Kate’s heart in his ears. It beat a panicked staccato as he fought for her life, but those spots in his vision were getting bigger and his chest burned for want of air. Just a little longer; he only had to hold out a little longer. Help was on the way.
But help never came.
As Kate lost consciousness, Chris found himself staring up through her still-open eyes, but unable to control her body anymore. Her fingers went slack along with the rest of her. All he could do was watch while Colt-but-not-Colt continued to throttle her. Her heartbeat slowed, then stopped.
Chris knew it the moment Colt came back to himself. Colt’s hands released their hold on Kate’s bruised neck and he looked down at her in confusion, then alarm.
“Kate? Kate!”
Blood drained from his face as he stared down at her in dawning horror.
“No… no, no, no, noooooo!”
The door finally burst open, announcing the arrival of the cavalry. Too little, too late.
When the door finally gave way, Joey spilled into the room with enough momentum that only her lightning reflexes and dancer’s grace kept her from ending up on the floor. It shouldn’t have taken that much force to bust the door in. She’d kicked at it and slammed herself against it enough times that her shoulder felt bruised. By the time the door flew open, the banging and crashing that had drawn the small crowd in the hall was replaced by Colt’s anguished howl.
The room looked like a tornado had blown through it. Furniture was knocked over. Wall hangings were askew or knocked off entirely. Debris littered the room, and Kate lay at the center of it on her back, unmoving, eyes open. Colt knelt astride her with a stricken look on his puffy face. Blood dripped from a cut over one eye and down his chin from a split lip. They both looked like they’d taken a beating, but from whom? Joey scanned the room for an assailant, but found none.
“Colt, what happened?” Jessica asked, pushing past Joey to reach her packmates.
Ben also rushed past and knelt beside Kate, reaching out to check her neck for a pulse. Her slender neck was red and her open eyes bloodshot. Unblinking. Joey feared the worst even as her eyes slid to Colt.
“Wake up, baby… wake up!” Tears streamed down his puffy face as he gripped Kate’s shoulders, ignoring everyone else.
Ben met Joey’s eyes and shook his head. Colt caught the glance and went into full-on panic mode.
“Help her, man! You’ve got to help her!”
“I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do. She’s gone,” Ben said with sympathy, and closed Kate’s eyes.
Colt’s anguished wail chilled Joey to the bone. She knew what it was like to lose someone, to have them there one moment and gone the next. Chris had gotten a second chance, but there’d be no second chances for Kate. Joey closed her eyes to blot out the sight, but another rose in its place: the memory of Chris’s lifeless body under a pristine white sheet. She remembered it like it was yesterday, that sense of soul-crushing loss. How much worse would it have been if she’d been in love with him then? A chill went down her spine, but it wasn’t the first time the thought had occurred to her.
Jessica wrapped her arms around Colt while he rocked back and forth over the body of his lover, inconsolable in his grief. The room suddenly felt smaller. Too small. Joey forced herself to take a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to yield to the familiar anxiety that sought a toehold inside her. She would not have a panic attack in front of these people.
“Find Eric, now.”
Joey had no idea who Jessica was talking to, but she heard someone moving swiftly to obey. Brandon, probably. But Jessica’s command did raise a salient question: where was Eric that he hadn’t heard the ruckus?
And, for that matter, where was Chris?
Joey opened her eyes and approached the scene on the floor, focusing on the matter at hand to distract herself. “What happened? Who did this?”
The questions earned her a fierce glare from Jessica. Joey was overstepping her bounds, but right then, she had a hard time caring.
Colt turned his head to look up at Joey. What she saw in his eyes made her chest constrict. Confusion. Frustration. Grief.
“I—I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jessica asked, her dulcet voice layered atop steel.
“I don’t know! I don’t know!” Colt cried, breaking down in sobs.
Jessica hauled Colt off Kate and herded him toward the door.
Joey stepped into her path. “Where are you going?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m getting him out of here,” Jessica said.
“I didn’t do it!” Colt said, grabbing for Joey’s arm. “I swear, I didn’t do it! I’d never hurt her.”
“There’s no one else here, you son of a bitch!” Jessica spat, her condolences vaporizing in a wave of sudden temper.
Colt flinched and wilted. His shoulders slumped and his head dropped. His hair fell forward over his eyes.
“Maybe there’s another explanation,” Joey said, glancing toward Kate’s body. “Maybe it was self-defense. Look at him. He’s nearly as banged up as she is.”
“Joey, I need to talk to you.” Ben was suddenly at her side.
“This isn’t a good time.”
“I really need to talk to you.”
He touched her arm, and she looked over at him with a frown. “Kind of in the middle of something here.”
“Please,” Ben said.
Jessica took advantage of the distraction and hauled Colt around Joey.
“He didn’t do it!” Ben said.
Everyone stopped and looked at him.
“Then who did?” Jessica said.
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t Colt.”
Joey didn’t disagree, but the evidence said otherwise. “I don’t want to believe it either, but there’s no one else here… Hey, wait!” She followed Jessica and Colt out into the hall, leaving her brother behind. Whatever he wanted to talk to her about could wait. She didn’t trust Jessica any farther than she could throw her—which wasn’t very far, even with supernatural strength. Leverage, and all that.
Jessica hauled Colt toward the stairs by one arm.
“Where are you taking him?” Joey said.
“Somewhere he can’t hurt anyone else.”
“We should wait for Eric.” She couldn’t believe the words left her mouth, and hoped they sounded as wrong as they felt.
Either way, the words had the desired effect. Jessica hesitated.
“I’ll keep an eye on him, okay?” Joey said. “Just sit him down out here in the hall for now.”
Jessica frowned at her, then shoved Colt toward her. “Fin
e, but if he hurts anyone else, it’s on you.”
Joey guided Colt toward a bench in the hall. He was limping, and one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut. He sank onto the bench and put his face in his hands. Joey sat on the bench next to him, completely at a loss for what to say or do, but as Jessica turned to go, she called after her.
“Hey, Jess, where’s Chris?”
Jessica shot her a glance over one shoulder, then started down the stairs. “I thought he was with you.”
Joey watched her go, wondering where Chris had gotten off to and hoping that he was safe.
Ben stepped out of Colt’s room and closed the door behind him.
“Hey,” Joey said, and motioned him over. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Huh?”
“Just a minute ago, you said it was important.”
Ben’s brows drew together and he frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Joey looked from Ben to Colt and back again.
She was starting to get a very bad feeling about all of this.
12
Chris didn’t linger long at the scene of the crime. To say he was frustrated would be an understatement. Not only had he failed Kate, he’d failed to get through to Joey in the aftermath. He hated taking over Ben without permission, but in the heat of the moment, it’d seemed better to ask forgiveness later, since he had no way of gaining consent.
Leaving Joey to clean up the mess, he went looking for his body. It seemed unlikely that Jessica had been able to move it very far. Everything had happened so fast, and she’d been right on Joey’s heels when the door had burst open. He started at the bathroom and went room to room, searching.
Self-doubt dogged his every step. Had he done the right thing, getting involved? Had he given Kate a chance at survival, or taken it away? At least she hadn’t had to look up at Colt’s sneering face as she died. Chris had that dubious honor. But who—or what—had taken over Colt? Was it another astral walker, like Chris? A spirit, like the ones Harper had communicated with? Chris didn’t know the answer, and though he kept a wary eye out for any sign of a spiritual disturbance as he moved from room to room, he came up empty on both fronts. No spirit, no body.