by Tanith Frost
Erica’s mouth moves silently for a moment before she finds words. “The cells have burned down, Miranda. I don’t—”
“Put them up in one of our trailers if you must,” Miranda says. “We brought enough equipment with us to fight a war. There has to be some place for them. Inform the other elders that we have key players in custody, and that their presence will not be required.” She turns back to me, eyes narrowed. “I plan to begin the questioning tonight. Alone.”
Erica nods and signals something to the redhead. Even if Miranda is acting against Erica’s information and advice, there’s nothing she can do about it.
I know how that feels.
“Rise,” Miranda tells me as the others collect their prisoners.
I don’t want to. I want to stay where I am and pretend I can block my memories from her. I don’t want to talk about what just happened. Maybe if I lie here for long enough it will all go away. I won’t have come here, won’t have fucked up, won’t have betrayed my species through acts I still can’t bring myself to regret, won’t have brought Silas here, won’t have felt him die.
Maybe if I wait and let my misery consume me, I’ll just disappear.
A tall vampire pokes at Silas’ body with the butt of his gun, and the blond beside him chuckles.
“Hey,” I say, and push myself to my feet, finally inspired to move. “A little respect, please. He’s a werewolf, but he was helpful to our investigation.”
They look to Miranda, who nods. “We’ll allow his pack a funeral,” she says. “Leave the body for now.”
I freeze as she pulls a quilt from the back of a chair and lays it over him. Just a few months ago I made the mistake of doing the same for a victim of the rogue vampires, shaming myself by showing my compassion. But when Miranda does it, it seems like nothing more than an item of business she’s completing. It’s not personal. She doesn’t care about him.
No one will question her. Maybe that’s the greatest advantage of her power. No one would dare.
Without another word, she moves down the back hallway in long, gliding steps, hands folded in front of her stomach, head held high on her graceful neck. I follow as though in thrall. I suspect I look calm on the outside, but my insides are a tempest of emotion.
I have to calm this. Have to control myself. She’ll see everything, see how weak I still am, how much I still feel.
She steps out onto the back deck and looks at the caribou carcass. “This is your evidence?”
My stomach turns at the confirmation that she was, in fact, inside my mind and memories. “It is,” I tell her. “I wish there was more. I’d be happy to explain why we came looking for it, what happened back when—”
She waves a hand, silencing me. “There will be time for that.”
“Then forgive me, Miranda, but what do you want to question me about?” I don’t really want to know, but I need to get it over with. And if it’s not about the evidence or what happened in the cabin…
I feel faint, like my weak and lifeless blood has all drained to my feet, leaving me off-balance and blurry-headed.
She has to have seen it in my mind, felt him in my blood.
One corner of her mouth twitches in a strange smile that’s not reflected in her cold eyes. “Relax. I have many questions about that, and deep concerns that I am certainly obligated to share with the other elders. But it is not my priority tonight.”
My stomach sinks. “Should that make me feel better?”
“I suppose not.”
At least she’s being honest.
“Aviva, what are we to do about all of this?”
Every thought leaves my mind, granting me the blank nothing I wished for just a few minutes ago. Too late to help me now.
An elder is asking me for advice. It has to be a trick.
She’s watching me carefully, giving nothing away. “You’ve been here a month,” she says, “and so much has changed in that time. We have reached a crisis in this failed experiment.”
Daniel’s words. His face flashes through my mind. It doesn’t make me feel any better.
Miranda smiles sadly. “I have been in communication with your former trainer, yes. We are in agreement about many things. But he has the luxury of not being responsible for this mess, whereas I hold the fate of a species in my hands. I stand under the silent judgement of every other clan who has already done away with them, who thought us foolish for giving them a chance. They are waiting for me to show weakness. Even within Maelstrom I walk a tightrope, and there are those who would like nothing better than to see me slip so they can shape this clan as they desire. And my best chance of acquiring the information I need to solve this quandary is…” The smile disappears, replaced by a look of grim resignation that makes it clear she’s aware of my sins. “Is you, Aviva. I assure you, this is as uncomfortable for me as it is for anyone.”
I don’t want to do this. I want to crawl into bed and let the nothingness come over me. I want a coffee. I want blood, and at the same time I never want to wash away the lingering taste of Silas.
I want to run away.
I can’t. There’s nowhere to go. This is my place, my responsibility. He’s gone, and there’s nothing I can do about that. I can still help Irene, Violet, and the others if I play my cards right. Maybe save Silas’ pack, every one of whom he’d have given his life for just as readily as he did for me.
I’ll never know loyalty or friendship like that. Not in my world. But I’ll do my damnedest to honour it in theirs.
“Mistakes happen,” I say, as much to myself as to her. I look up at the infinite sky and let the light of the stars wash over me. My spirit calms, and my mind clears. “I make so many, but I make them with the best intentions. I came here wanting to prove myself to you and the other elders, to earn my place in Maelstrom, to show that Daniel’s mistake in making me wasn’t such a great mistake after all.”
It hurts to say that. I’d never put it into words before, but there it is. I haven’t just been screwing myself over, but Daniel. If Miranda isn’t above judgement, he certainly isn’t, either. Thank goodness the files on my creation have been sealed, and few vampires know the truth about where I came from.
“And I screwed up. I know I did.” I chew my bottom lip as I think it through. “I did things because I was weak or lonely…” I look up to meet Miranda’s eyes and she nods, as though she remembers being so young and foolish. “But I also did them because I wanted what was best for the clan. I believe there are aspects of the supernatural world we don’t understand. We’re a thread in a web of power. A strong one. Maybe a key one. But not the only one.” I touch my necklace. My touchstone. My magic feather, a gift from a mere human who understands this better than I ever will, or who’s at least open to asking questions. Fire flickers within the depths of my darkness. I ignore it, and the feeling recedes. “I believe it’s important to preserve the wolves and their power. I think we’ll be weaker without them.”
“A grand, supernatural ecosystem,” Miranda says flatly, and leans against the wooden railing. “A fine theory. And what am I to do with it? We tried to keep them alive. Look what’s happened.”
“You did try,” I say slowly. “That was a long time ago. Your intent with this sanctuary was to preserve them without letting them roam, because to trust them seemed unthinkable. This place was a compromise.”
“And now?”
“And now we know better. It’s possible for us to move forward from here. Irene wants to, and she’s a strong pack leader. It won’t be an easy transition, but you can trust her to handle things if our secrecy is threatened. We don’t need to keep them in captivity. They understand the dangers of exposure, and I assure you they’re not as stupid as we’ve always thought they were.”
She presses her lips together. “So I’m to admit an error? Second-guess myself?” She shakes her head. “I’d be better off killing the lot and pretending none of this ever happened.”
A chill comes over me, dotting my s
kin with goosebumps. She says it so casually, as though their lives are nothing. Yet the fact that she’s speaking to me about it at all tells me she hasn’t made a decision. She’s looking for a loophole.
“Admitting to mistakes shouldn’t be seen as weakness,” I tell her, “but an opportunity to do better. I’m young, but I hope to spend many centuries serving Maelstrom and experiencing the world. I’d hate to hold myself back by denying my errors and refusing to learn from them.” She glares coolly at me, but I continue in spite of the prickling shame I feel under her ancient gaze. “I’d rather move forward than cling to the past just because I want to be able to say I was right.”
Her mouth tightens to a hard line, and time seems to slow as I wait to see whether I’ll be punished for speaking so freely.
A frown creases her usually smooth brow. “You trouble me, Aviva. You have so much potential. Daniel isn’t wrong about that. But you have so far to go. So much to learn. And some mistakes are fatal. Do you understand that?”
“I do,” I say softly, hoping mine haven’t been thus far. By the way she’s looking at me, I suspect they might be. Vampires may not have a long list of mortal sins, but if we did, I suspect multiple counts of defiling oneself with a werewolf might make it on there.
Thinking I could keep that a secret might have been my biggest mistake of all.
“I bet it would freak the other clans out if you seemed allied with the werewolves,” I say, just to break the silence.
She purses her lips, holding back a smile that fades as quickly as it comes. “That they would,” she says, and touches a finger to her lips. “Should I, the high elder of Maelstrom, sense a shift in the winds of power and decide to do such a thing, I would certainly be held accountable if it led to the shattering of our secrecy. But then, it might be worth it to see the shock on the other elders’ ageless, unfeeling faces.” She glances at my necklace, which I’m still twisting nervously between my fingers. “You believe what you said about the powers? That we’re stronger for having the werewolves here?”
She doesn’t say stronger than other clans, but it’s there, an unspoken hope I can’t even attempt to understand.
“I think we might be two sides of the same coin. Opposed, but interdependent. Has anyone else suffered for exterminating werewolves?”
She quirks an eyebrow. “They certainly wouldn’t tell me if they had.” But she taps her fingernails against the rail, deep in thought. “I will consider all of this in relation to whatever evidence arises from our questioning of you and the others.”
I want to thank her, but hold back. I can’t let this be personal. I do want them preserved for the good of Maelstrom, and nothing else matters now.
“As to your own mistakes,” she says thoughtfully. “You’ve broken ancient boundaries, and this is not a thing that is easily forgiven. Did you not know that?”
I hang my head. “I was desperate for blood.”
“It’s not the blood that concerns me most,” she says quietly. She doesn’t need to yell for me to hear the threat in her voice. “I haven’t seen all of your memories, but I saw enough. You knew you were breaking our rules and unwritten laws. Lying with beasts, drinking their blood… your actions in and of themselves are bad enough, but it’s the disregard for your nature that is most troublesome. It reveals a rogue spirit, Aviva, which is so much more difficult to overcome than rogue hunger.”
I’m trembling harder now than Paul was just a few minutes ago, wishing I could keep her from my mind like he seemed able to do. “What will my punishment be?”
She considers that. “We’ll see. For now, know that I will not tell anyone. I do appreciate your honesty and advice. So this remains between us.”
A breath comes out of me in a rush. “Really?”
She doesn’t seem at all amused by my relief. “For now,” she repeats. “But I own you, Aviva. Your rogue spirit will rest under my thumb. I will choose your assignments, and you will accept them. You will have no contact with Daniel or anyone else unless I offer permission.” She leans in closer, the displeasure in her eyes tinged with disgust. “You may prove to be valuable to me in the future. We’ll see what we can do to harness that spirit. For now, we’ll call you a new experiment. One that will not fail.”
She looks up at the stars again, then heads back into the cabin, leaving me to ponder her words.
I didn’t accept her offer. I didn’t have to.
I’m already under her thumb, pinned there by the weight of my sins.
I sink to the wooden floor of the deck and rest my head in my hands, finally allowing myself to cry.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chester, an underweight vampire with dull copper skin and stringy hair, closes the paper file on the incident. He taps his fountain pen against the cover and eyes me intently. He’s the head of the Department of Unnatural Resources, a bureaucrat with fangs who looks like he’d be happier in a quiet accounting position.
It’s been almost two weeks since the incident at Joseph’s cabin. It seems Miranda was through with me after that first night. All of my other questioning came from Erica, Royce, or the others who came up from St. John’s to end this thing, all of whom seemed more than a little disappointed at the lack of real action at the end of their long journey.
I don’t remember much of the questioning. I may have found the backbone and energy to get my points across to Miranda, but by the next night, it had all sunk in. Silas’ death changed from something I knew in my mind to a loss I felt deeper in my heart than I would ever have expected.
We may not have been Romeo and Juliet, but the loss of his friendship cut me deep, and regrets have been plaguing me every night I’ve spent stuck here on sanctuary land. He seems to haunt this place, a shadow among the trees, a mocking laugh in the wind. I can’t say I’m eager to get away from it, but I think I need to for the sake of my sanity.
More disturbingly, I still feel him. Not his spirit. That’s gone, I hope to whatever better place he believed in, and he’s not coming back. But I feel him in me, long after every trace should be gone. It’s as though a current of his fire flows through the liquid dark I’ve carried within me since my death, shining gold against my shadows. It rises up, pushing against me, sickening me with the instinctive revulsion I still feel from its presence.
I push it down, cover it over, try my best to ignore it. I don’t know what else to do.
And I’ve been dreaming. Not every day, but once or twice. Wispy, filmy things that cling to me when I wake, no matter how I try to shake them off.
He changed me. I don’t know how I should feel about that. For now, I’m hiding it. No one seems to sense it in me, and I’m not about to say a word.
“There’s a lot of work to be done here,” Chester says, pulling me out of the thoughts that have distracted me most of my waking hours since that night. “Miranda has decided to free them. Had you heard?”
“I suspected.” I almost smile at that, but it’s too much effort. It always is these days.
The wolves have been roaming free, rather than rounded up in preparation for their imminent execution. I haven’t spoken to any of them, as they’ve kept their distance from our camp at the smoke-scented site of the old compound, but I’ve seen Miranda leave the camp at night, I suspect to speak with Irene. I took things as far as I could, and the rest has been up to them.
I might be anxious if I wasn’t lost in this fog. As it stands, I choose to trust that wiser women than I will work something out. I want to forget it all now. To grieve. To heal.
Somewhere else.
Chester straightens his tie. It’s the fifth time he’s done it since he sat down in this cramped trailer to wrap things up with me. “Now, we will need oversight for the packs.”
“Packs?”
He nods and opens the file again, though I suspect he knows the facts well enough. “They ah… yes. Irene’s pack, and the one belonging to the deceased male.”
“Silas,” I offer. I don’t kno
w or care what they’ve done with Joseph, but I know no one is referring to him as the deceased.
Yet.
“Yes. He had an assistant of sorts. Alvin?”
I nod.
“He’s taking over now that the former alpha is gone.”
I nod again, feeling like a puppet with my head bobbing on a string. I never met Alvin, but Silas seemed to have faith in the older werewolf. At least it’s not one of the assholes I met when I tried to question the pack. Maybe they’ll all mellow a little now that they have some freedom.
“And Joseph’s pack?” I ask.
“Still under investigation,” Chester mutters. “But as soon as they’re cleared, they’ll be allowed to choose which of the two remaining packs they want to join.”
I slump back in my chair. “Seems like everything is pretty well under control then.”
“If only.” Chester tugs at his tie again, and I have to hold myself back from grabbing the scissors from his desk and cutting it off.
Everything is irritating me these days, when I surface long enough to feel anything at all.
I wish I could talk to Daniel, but Miranda’s rules hold. I’m scared to even ask for my phone back.
“We’ll need someone here to keep an eye on things for a good while,” Chester continues, ignoring the daggers I glare into his chest as he loosens the knot around his neck. “Making sure the leaders do, in fact, keep their pack members on sanctuary land. It’s theirs now, but we still can’t risk exposure. Watching for alliances within the packs, especially among those released from Joseph’s.”
“Making sure they’re all trustworthy,” I sum up for him, and he nods. A hollow feeling swallows my stomach. I know where this is going.
“Exactly.”
He doesn’t seem to care much anymore what happens here. And why should he? My new buddy Chester is probably happy to have the wolves off his plate, at least until they fuck up and threaten to expose us.
Which I suspect they won’t. Things are changing, and we’ve all learned lessons.