Secrets in the Fade (Secrets of the Sequoia Book 2)

by Deidre Huesmann

  To his right, Aaron said, “There may be potential for you to play father to a pack of your own, one day.”

  “Not interested,” muttered Holden.

  “Of course not.” In his periphery, Aaron stubbed out his cigarette. Not once did he glance in Holden’s direction. “And yet you seem disturbed by my methods.”

  That was one way of putting it. Holden kicked at the sidewalk with his heel. “I don’t see why you’re being so easy on him.”

  “Because I was hard on you.”

  That was definitely one way of putting it. Scowling at his leader’s perfectly shiny shoes, Holden said, “If I had ever done what he did, you’d’ve been pissed.” And back then, he hadn’t even possessed the same resources Jackson currently did. When Aaron had given him these types of tasks, Holden had been expected to hunt down the locations on his own, prod around each and every property, and find all the faults even if it meant breaking into the home while the residents slept.

  Yes, it did immensely aggravate him that a new pup was getting special treatment.

  As though reading his mind, Aaron replied, “He gets no special treatment. Each change is a new experience. Every individual is unique in his or her response. Jackson responds well to order and discipline, and considering his background, this should come as no surprise.”

  Something about the way he said it made the hairs on Holden’s neck fly up. He turned sharply, but his alpha still refused to meet his gaze, despite the hints of a smirk dancing on his lips.

  “You can’t seriously still be thinking about turning her,” he hissed.

  Deliberately, Aaron arched the dark brow Holden could see. “Such a plan was not at the top of my list.”

  “But it’s still on the list,” said Holden in disbelief. “You can’t. Don’t you get it? She’s happy now, way happier than when I met her. She’s never asked me about turning while her brother was gone, not once. She’s not interested.”

  “I know,” said Aaron mildly.

  “Then how can it even be on the list?”

  At last, Aaron matched his stare. “This is how I know you are not prepared to be an alpha.”

  Holden shook his head. “Me not wanting it has nothing to do with this.”

  “No,” agreed Aaron before flashing a chilling smile. “But the fact you never prepare for change has everything to do with everything.”

  While Holden could see where he was coming from, he still refused to budge. “It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want it, so it’s better to prepare for that.”

  A barely perceptible sigh passed Aaron’s lips. “I do not disagree.”

  “Then why—”

  “Shut up.” Holden was so taken aback by the comparatively crude command that he obeyed without thinking. “It would do you well to listen once in a while. Thinking will not hurt you so much, though you certainly act otherwise.”

  Holden suppressed his urge to argue. Once he did, it wasn’t difficult to see what Aaron was saying. Dully, he answered the unasked. “It’s not at the top of the list. It’s at the bottom. Just in case.” Aaron continued to stare without expression. “Because we can’t assume that another Roxi isn’t going to happen just because there isn’t a crazy lycan like her that we know about.” Or that there is potentially one in the making, he added silently. Jackson was not wholly in the clear yet, and both he and his alpha knew it.

  “C minus for taking so long to figure it out,” said Aaron dispassionately. “You may go back and attempt to teach the pup like a good ambassador.”

  It was an order, not permission. Holden scowled and made sure to slam the door behind him when he stalked back inside to his grimy, sullen student.

  Before long, more MISSING posters surrounded Ana Sofia’s sweet profile. The school events board rapidly became common territory for students of all cliques to join in uneasy peace. Flowers and sympathy cards of various colors made the hallway appear cheerier than it had any right to.

  An unreasonable part of Rachael burned to watch the outpour of attention the allegedly kidnapped children received compared to the pithy amount of empathy her brother had. It’s different, she reminded herself. These are kids, just helpless little kids.

  Along with Ana Sofia, an eight year-old boy had vanished from his backyard, plus a three year-old with cropped blonde hair and an astonishing number of freckles. Perhaps most chilling was Caleb MacIntyre, a jovial, popular boy from Douglas Middle School. His wheelchair had been found hidden in a thicket of blackberry bushes on the side of the highway, with no sign of his body.

  Everyone was frightened. Rachael was no exception. The difference between her and her classmates was that she was afraid more that Aaron had lied to her than she was of any human snatcher. And she said so to Holden numerous times.

  This time, Holden sighed and said, “He has a history of it, for sure. Changing them, at least. Never killing.”

  “He really might be doing it, then?”

  Holden shrugged. “It’s not impossible. But he said, after Roxi, no more changing kids. They can’t handle it mentally.” Before she could point out the obvious, he added, “Nathan’s a prime example, too. You just haven’t seen it yet.”

  Rachael chose not to express her doubt, but Holden must have seen it in her eyes. He instantly grew huffy and muttered an excuse to leave.

  Days later, when she had a chance to see her brother again, Rachael intended to prod at his thoughts. But if Jackson knew about the missing children, they were of dim importance compared to his fury at Holden.

  “He keeps calling me pup,” Jackson raged.

  It was a rare moment her father was not to be home in time to catch his disowned son trespassing. Rachael frowned at the stove, trying to focus on the beef strips. “I thought Mr. Moreno called you that, too.”

  “He’s allowed,” Jackson said. How easily his admiration for his alpha (so strange to think of her brother being a lycan, still) shone through with such meager words. “Not him. I don’t get what you see in him, RayRay. He’s a punk.”

  Rachael snorted. “You’re a punk.”

  Wounded, Jackson said, “I’ve changed my look.”

  Indeed. Gone were his mesh undershirts and cargo pants with too many pockets and zippers. With his new build, Jackson filled out jeans so much better, and he seemed proud to wear fitted T-shirts now that he was in shape. Though she couldn’t help but note he couldn’t get rid of his trench coats.

  Trying to steer the conversation away from Holden, Rachael asked, “Have you called Vera?” She used the wooden spatula to flip the meat from the pan onto a plate.

  “Huh?” Perplexed, Jackson rested his elbow on the dining room table, his chin nestled comfortably in his wide hand. “Why would I?”

  “You said you would.”

  “No, I said I thought about it,” he replied shortly. “I decided not to.”

  She turned off the heat, switching out the pan for a wok. Sesame oil and freshly cracked pepper for the diced vegetables added even more wonderful aromas to the kitchen. Pleased, Rachael allowed herself a respite to look at her brother.

  “Why did you guys break up?”

  Jackson shrugged. “She wanted Kevin.”

  A fat lot of good that had done. From what her best friend at told her, Vera hadn’t dated her most recent ex-boyfriend for years between him and Jackson—and Kevin had cheated on her with Coleen Thibodeaux. Rachael still cringed when she recalled Vera finding out, how her friend had shrieked and spat out words that seemed completely out of character for her. Their friends had warned Rachael that on the occasion Vera’s temper flared, it was a fiery explosion that left scorched earth in its wake. Fortunately, Rachael hadn’t seen such fury from her friend since.

  “But Kevin—”

  “Oh, I know what Kevin did.”

  She stared. “And you’re okay with that?”

  A dark look, far more like Aaron’s than his own, warped Jackson’s face. In a soft, eerie tone she had never heard before, he said, “Who sa
id I was?”

  Becoming a lycan had changed him in more ways than just the aches, pains, and fur.

  Unnerved, Rachael sealed her lips and forgot about the missing children for a few hours. She was beginning to think Holden was right—lycans were quite possibly more monstrous than she had ever really conceived.

  The oddities of how much her brother had changed and how he had heard of Kevin’s cheating foray with Coleen were still on Rachael’s mind in study hall on Monday. She’d even gone out of her way to ask Vera if she had spoken to Jackson since the break-up.

  With a shrug, Vera had said, “Just in video games. We didn’t talk about personal stuff, really.”

  So they had remained civil more than friends, apparently. Perhaps that wasn’t so surprising. Vera remained civil to Coleen, also. Arguably, Coleen had betrayed Vera worse than her ex-boyfriend. Rachael didn’t understand her best friend when it came to her capability to coexist with those who hurt her so much. Granted, Rachael had only known Coleen as a snobbish bully, but all the same....

  In the middle of her though, a sensation of unease knotted Rachael’s stomach. Slyly, she glanced to her right in time to watch Coleen Thibodaux pull out the empty chair beside her and sit down.

  Crazy, how thinking about Coleen seemed akin to chanting “Bloody Mary” into a mirror. Once she got into your head, she shortly after appeared out of thin air.

  Sure enough, Coleen looked straight at her. Rachael diverted her eyes and pretended she hadn’t noticed.

  Apparently Coleen wasn’t having it. As she nonchalantly unloaded her books, she muttered, “Haven’t seen your brother around.”

  Rachael pressed her lips together and said nothing.

  Annoyance tinged her former foe’s voice. “How’s he going to finish school? Can’t imagine he enrolled when he was missing.”

  “He’s working,” Rachael answered in a short hiss.

  That was a mistake. Though Coleen’s pen was whispering, she continued to address Rachael from behind a curtain of unnaturally red hair. “Maybe he should get his GED and go to a tech school.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Coleen scoffed. Thankfully, she fell quiet, but Rachael was on edge after that. Studying had gone from difficult to downright impossible. Her blood ran hot at Coleen’s audacity. How could she speak to her in such haughty tones after her taunts two years ago? Did she really believe Rachael had forgotten? And even if she hadn’t said all those things, knowing what she had done to Vera was more than enough to earn Rachael’s ire.

  But Rachael sat there and swallowed her heated words. Never had she been good with confrontation, and school was the last place she needed trouble.

  When class ended she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. But the foreboding clacking of Coleen’s heels followed her down the halls. Panicking, Rachael strode past her locker, eyes down at her feet. Within moments she found the girl’s room and ducked inside.

  Before she could hide in a stall, a perfectly French manicured hand slammed the door shut. Rachael leapt back with a yelp. She whirled to face the girl, her pulse rapid and face flushed.

  “Why can’t you just leave me alone,” she demanded.

  Coleen scowled. “Why can’t you just talk to me like a normal person?”

  Rachael stared at her. “You’re kidding, right?” At Coleen’s hard gaze, she continued, “You forgot about teasing me about my mom? Or hitting me on the head in band class? Or calling me a slut?”

  To her surprise, a shameful flush crept up Coleen’s pale neck. “That was years ago.”

  Rachael edged away. “Sorry. I don’t associate with boyfriend-stealers.” Why was the bathroom empty? Normally girls flocked here between classes with the shared, desperate need to relieve themselves or trade complaints about teachers.

  Almost immediately, Coleen’s hard stance deflated. “Look, I just wanted to... nobody else has lost a sibling like we have. You were lucky to get Jackson back.”

  She had to be lying. Rachael narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the teenager before her. “Vera never mentioned that. She said you had no idea what you were talking about at the coffee shop.”

  Her impatient voice in stark contrast to her demure posture, Coleen said, “I didn’t move here until I was six, you know. And I don’t like talking about Marlene. Nobody else would understand.”

  Every instinct screamed at Rachael that this was some sort of trap. It had to be. Coleen’s history was littered with deceit and malcontent.

  Yet she found herself asking, “What happened to Marlene?”

  Coleen fell silent. She shifted her feet, inhaling deeply before she looked up to meet Rachael’s gaze. “She was kidnapped,” she answered shakily. “When I was four. There was a huge manhunt, but—” She stopped abruptly, her eyes going icy again. “Anyway, that’s why you never heard.”

  Rachael was unsure what to do with this information. “Why didn’t you tell Vera? She’s, like, the sweetest person I know.”

  “I told you, I don’t like talking about it.”

  “Then why me?” shot back Rachael. “You hate me. You’ve made that clear. I never did anything to you.”

  Coleen pounded her fist against the stall. “How many times do I have to say it? You went through it. You get it. And when you got your brother back I—I figured it was karma.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You know, I’ve been spoiled all my life, especially since—Marlene. I know it. Everyone says so. But you’re not, and you’re genuinely a nice person, especially for Vera to prefer your company over mine. So I... I guess I wanted to....”

  Rachael waited expectantly. Inside, she was a writhing mass of nervous, hungry worms. Coleen’s display of remorse argued against Rachael’s deep-seated hatred for her.

  The warning bell shattered the quiet. Coleen straightened her back, lifted her chin, and said, “Well, I wanted to apologize. So. Sorry.”

  Then she turned on her pointed heel and clacked off before Rachael could respond.

  Chapter Eight

  Autumn’s musk delved deep into winter’s frost when Rachael was invited to help the lycans move into their new home.

  “I can’t imagine you’d need much help,” she said uncertainly into the phone.

  Jackson’s cheer was terribly hard to resist. “Maybe not. But man, RayRay, you gotta see this place! It’s old, but inside is way bigger than it looks. Every bedroom has its own bathroom. I’m like a rich kid, now!”

  Smiling, she tentatively agreed to be there on Saturday.

  When the fateful weekend came around, she should have known it would not be the same house, yet was still surprised when the taxi driver took her past the old Moreno home. A quick glance into the former yard told her the new tenants were poor at upkeep; sticker bushes of some sort had grown wild into the grass, and the enormous four-car garage—the only building she could catch a glimpse of from the street—was cluttered with boxes and undiscernible items for all but one slot.

  It seemed a horrid waste.

  When the taxi pulled up to the new house, Rachael was so startled she almost forgot to pay. She climbed out of the vehicle, barely getting her toes on the ground before the driver sped off, all the while transfixed by the home. The yard was enormous, with a straight concrete driveway to a single-car garage. A conspicuous red Maserati gleamed next to the dingy, hardy U-Haul. It was almost as though the owners were bragging how much they could afford—yet it was nothing compared to the numerous luxury cars Rachael remembered from her sophomore year.

  The house itself charmed her. A Tudor revival displayed its many peaks, softened by the particular layering of multi-colored bricks. The front entry was a miniature cottage on its own, with white stone framing a cozy front door and peek-a-boo window shyly displaying ruffled maroon curtains within. The roof was so steeply slanted that she could imagine several men had died laying down the bark-brown shingles. Not a single ball of moss marred the house’s appearance; it was groomed as well as a prized Appaloosa.

  Move
ment from the U-Haul diverted her attention. Jackson clambered out, shirtless and sweating in spite of frigid temperatures. He seemed not to notice his sister as he turned and began pulling something clearly heavy from the trailer.

  Rachael jogged over to assist. “Jackie!”

  He took a break, grinning at her. “Hey, you made it!” Though it seemed to have taken some effort to move the furniture out as far as he had, Jackson shoved it back a little before turning and sweeping his hand in a grand gesture. “Didn’t I tell you? And it’s even better inside!”

  “You sure did.” Rachael watched her words escape in puffs. “It’s gorgeous.”

  Pleasure brightened her brother’s eyes even more. The new gold flecks that reminded her so much of Holden seemed to glow. “Wait ‘til you see my room. My game set-up is gonna be sweet, you just wait. I could fit all my things plus three monitors in that sucker!”

  “What would you even do with three?” she asked. A smile tugged her mouth. Her brother was as grandiose as ever when it came to his computers and games. Clearly some things couldn’t change, lycan infection or none.

  “Lots,” he retorted, as if that explained everything. Perhaps to a gamer, it would. Rachael shook her head. “C’mon, RayRay, help me with this.”

  He was struggling with a nice—and heavy, she realized the moment she took hold of one end—dresser. Rachael moved to follow instruction, and by the time they had it up to one of the four bedrooms, she understood why Jackson was shirtless. She peeled off her pleather coat. It tried to cling to her like the wet inner layers of an onion.

  As she and Jackson labored through the majority of the U-Haul’s innards, she forgot about the cold. Her brother had moved most of the boxes; all that was left was furniture. She couldn’t believe he’d forgotten the age-old adage, “Save the best for last.”

  After the seventh trip, Rachael pleaded for a break. Jackson grudgingly obliged.

  She finally asked, “Where is everyone? You shouldn’t be doing this alone.”

  “Hunting.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Besides, it’s my job. And I like it.” He flexed a bicep, satisfied. “I didn’t get this way by being spoiled.”