Whispers in the Ether

by Jena Gregoire

  "Why not?"

  "I get that you wolves are used to girls falling all over themselves to get you in the sack but I'm not one of them."

  "I didn't assume you were. Far from it, actually."

  "I'm also not in the market for a white knight. If you hadn't noticed, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

  "Yes, you most certainly are."

  "Then what?" she asked, exasperated.

  "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I like your company and I'm not ready for the night to end yet?" That took her by surprise, momentarily leaving her speechless. Then she softened.

  "You're not so bad yourself," she conceded, then added, "for a wolf."

  "So you're totally into me, am I right?" I asked with a smile and wiggled my eyebrows at her.

  "Don't get too excited," she replied in a snarky tone. "It's a pretty low bar. Most of the wolves I've crossed paths with are a lot like your pal Ace."

  "Fair enough. For the record, most of my pack are nothing like him. He and Dylan have a wild streak. It can be a real pain in the ass."

  "Why do you put up with it? You seem like a nice guy and he is not. He's a predator."

  "We're all predators."

  "Not that kind. I can't really explain it to you but when he's around, I have to fight the urge to jam a knife in his eye socket." At first I thought she was kidding but the look on her face made me wonder if she wasn't being completely serious.

  "I hope you don't ever feel that way about me. Come on. There's a bottle of tequila waiting inside for us and the night is young."

  RECKONING

  CHAPTER SIX

  "Okay, my turn," she said, suddenly turning serious. The last couple hours of conversation passed quickly. We effortlessly bounced from topic to topic without giving up any real information until she finally got fed up with that and proposed a little quid pro quo. An answer for an answer.

  “Go for it.”

  “How old are you?”

  “How old do I look?”

  “That’s not the way the game works.”

  “Well, I don't want to freak you out. Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Yes, tell me.”

  “I’m sixty-two.”

  “Nuh uh,” she scoffed as she eyed me suspiciously. I simply smiled. “I call bullshit,” she announced and I laughed.

  “No bullshit. I was turned when I was in my early twenties and fully matured as a wolf before I turned thirty.” When a wolf fully matured, the aging process slowed dramatically. It’s not that we stopped aging all together. We just aged at a fraction of the speed humans did.

  “You grew up at the same time as my father.” She was quiet for a beat. “You’re right. That’s kind of weird.”

  “My turn. What’s the deal with the knives?”

  “Practice,” she fired back without missing a beat. “Are you originally from New York?”

  “I wasn’t born here but I spent most of my childhood here. I moved out west years ago and only moved back here in the last decade. Most teenage girls don't spend their formative years becoming a walking weapon. Why you?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “That’s not how the game works,” I chided, using her own words against her.

  “I answered yours when you asked.” She had a point.

  “Part of me wants to know more because I’m a pack alpha. It’s my job to ensure the safety of my wolves.”

  “And the rest of you?”

  “Call it personal curiosity. I like you.” I shrugged and drank down the shot of tequila I’d poured. She watched me, searching my face for some hint I was lying. She wouldn’t find it. I’d been completely honest in my answer. Seeming satisfied to an extent, she picked up the bottle of tequila and uncorked it.

  “We’re going to need another one of these,” she said as she poured us both another shot. I picked up the tiny glass an examined it as she replaced the top and pushed the bottle aside. She held up her glass and we each downed the small but potent bit of alcohol. Then I waited.

  She started pulling her knives out of their sheaths one by one. She spoke as she placed them in a neat row on the table in front of her.

  “As long as I’m left alone, I’m no danger to you or your pack.” As she repeated the same assurance she’d given me in the alley earlier that evening, I smelled a familiar bitter scent in the air and knew that coming clean was making her nervous. “Regardless of where I came from, that’s not my life anymore.” I held my hands up in surrender.

  “I didn’t ask about you with the intention of doing you harm. You have my word.” She eyed me cautiously for a moment before rolling her eyes and giving in.

  “I’m a hunter.”

  “A hunter? Why is that such a big deal?”

  “Don't think pickup trucks, gun racks, and camouflage. We’re more something along the lines of Van Helsing or Buffy. For centuries, my family has killed the things that go bump in the night.”

  For a moment, I was stunned. I’d be around a long time, and as far as I knew, hunters and slayers were limited to fiction only. The knowledge that there was one sitting right in front of me was mind blowing.

  “Like werewolves?” I asked apprehensively.

  “And vampires and anything else supernatural that kills humans. But I don't do that anymore. I’m retired.”

  “What changed?” She smiled wistfully.

  When I was seventeen years old, I fell in love for the first time. He was a little macho in front of other people, but sweet enough behind closed doors that when I fell for him, I fell hard. One night, we snuck into his parents’ liquor cabinet and got a little tipsy. I called my parents and told them I was staying at a friend’s house so they wouldn’t suspect anything when I didn’t come home.

  “We only had a few drinks, but even sober, Anthony could sleep through a fucking tornado, so he never heard his brother Clay come into the bedroom. He dragged me through the house and out into the yard, too fast for me to get any solid footing under me. Long story short, he threw me a beating. A bad one. I got a few punches in but he basically wiped the floor with me. Call it luck, or maybe he made a mistake, I don't know, but I managed to get away. And I’ve never run so fast in my entire life.”

  “Hey, Marcel!” the bartender called across the empty room. “We close up in thirty. Can I get you guys anything else?”

  “We’re good. We’ll get out of your hair shortly.” I waited for Jamie to continue and when she didn’t, I asked, “So what happened?”

  “Well, when I came bursting through my front door in nothing but my pjs with my face bloody and swollen, my father only listened to about half the story before he grabbed his sawed off and ran out the front door.”

  “Did he go after the brother?”

  “Yep, and then some. He slaughtered the entire family, Anthony included, and burned the bodies. The last time I saw my father, we had words. Loud words. The whole thing ended with me packing my shit and never looking back.”

  “It sounds like he thought he was doing right by you.”

  “They were pureblood wolves, all born, not turned.” Being born as a werewolf was an extreme rarity. The trait is shared among only about twenty or so families, and those of us who were turned are all linked to one of those packs. She leaned forward on the table, looking down at her knives as she spoke. “He didn’t run off to murder them out of some noble act of vengeance. He did it because he finally had an excuse. They’d been a peaceful family for decades. Anthony’s brother just happened to be the asshole of the bunch. In that particular family, he was the exception, not the rule. As far as I’m concerned, my father was the monster that night.”

  “And you can't forgive him?”

  “Oh hell no, and I certainly can't carry on the family legacy. That shit ends with me.” We were down to the last bit in the bottle so I emptied it, splitting it between our two glasses. In truth, I didn’t really feel like dealing with Ace and Dylan tonight. Ace had texted to let m
e know Dylan would be fine. The boys were taking him home and they’d fill me in on the rest in the morning.

  “Last shot. Feel like getting out of here when we’re done? I could use some fresh air and I think she might want to go home.” I nodded my head toward the bartender. She’d already finished cleaning up the entire bar and was leaning on the bar, texting someone on her phone.

  Jamie nodded. We emptied our glasses, set them and bottle on the bar, and tossed a fifty dollar bill beside it on our way out. Although she initially protested, the bartender quickly gave in, scooping it up and stuffing it in her pocket. Between that and the tip Max had tossed her for the bottle earlier in the evening, I hoped it made up for the fact that the place had turned into a ghost town after Ace’s altercation with Jamie.

  “How tired are you?” I asked as we stepped out into the night air.

  “Why? What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, my loft is close by and I make a mean cup of coffee. Just because the Bullet closed doesn’t mean the night has to end. I’ll be a perfect gentleman, I swear.” She smiled at that and rather than answer, she stepped in close to me and brought her lips up to my own. Her kiss was hesitant at first and quickly filled with fire. Before things got too far, she pulled away.

  “Yes, I think we should go to your loft, but the coffee can wait until morning.” That wasn’t at all what I expected. She’d made herself quite clear that she had no interest just a few hours ago, but I wasn’t going to complain. Once she planted the idea in my head, it’s all I could think about.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Very,” she replied with breathy determination.

  RECKONING

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The four blocks to my apartment took much longer than it should have. Or maybe it just seemed that way. We reached the door to the garage and she leaned her back against it, watching me sift through my keyring. I finally found the correct deadbolt key and slid it in the lock. I gingerly turned it and pushed the door open as quietly as I could, all the while straining to hear any signs of life in the main bay of the garage. It was pitch black and dead quiet so I was fairly certain we were alone.

  “The coast is clear.”

  “Do you live in a motorcycle garage?”

  “I live above a motorcycle garage. Come on in.” She stepped into the dark bay of the garage and I locked the door behind us. “The elevator is this way,” I said, taking her hand as I made my way through the darkened hallway. I lead her to the wide metal door. Someone had put a piece of masking tape next to the button and wrote penthouse on it in black permanent marker. I shook my head at the new addition to the decor and pushed the button to call the elevator.

  “Fancy,” she said with a light laugh.

  “Yeah, someone’s idea of a joke. Probably Aidan.”

  The elevator chimed as the door slid open and we stepped inside. It was small, only about four-feet deep and six-feet wide, but that didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. As soon as the doors were closed, she tugged on my hand, pulling me to her. My hand tangled in her hair and I crushed my mouth to hers, our tongues urgently seeking each other out. Her hands went in my jacket and up the back of my shirt. A small moan escaped her just as the elevator chimed again, opening into my loft. I lifted her off the ground and she wrapped her legs around my waist. With one arm snaked around my neck, she reached the other down and slid three of her knives out. They clattered to the floor as she switched arms and did the same with the other side. I set her down on the edge of my bed, and straightened to shrug out of my leather jacket. While I lifted my t-shirt up over my head, Jamie unbuttoned her top, exposing a black lace bra and a tattoo above her breasts that read Amor Vincit Omnia in flowing script. Love conquers all. Not the sappy sentiment I’d have expected from her but my mind wasn’t dwelling on it. I had other priorities. I leaned in, taking her mouth with mine again, and for the next few hours, we lost ourselves in each other.

  RECKONING

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  After a brief, contented sleep, I woke the next afternoon to a rustling sound. I opened my eyes to find Jamie sitting on the edge of the bed, putting on her boots and a wave of disappointment crashed over me. I didn’t want her to leave and judging by the anxiety slowly building inside me, neither did my wolf.

  “Are you taking off?” I asked, sleep and alcohol making my voice hoarse.

  “Yeah, I have to get going,” she answered with what seemed like a hint of regret. “I hope you don't mind but I robbed one of the packaged toothbrushes from your bathroom.”

  “Not a problem. Let me give you my number before you leave,” I said as I rummaged through the contents of my nightstand for something to write with.

  “Look,” she said as she turned to me, “I like you but I may not be sticking around here for much longer. This was fun but that’s all it was, okay?”

  I laughed. “It’s not a marriage proposal, it’s a phone number. If you stick around, call me. If you don't, call me the next time you happen to be in town.”

  She smiled at that. “Alright, fine. What is it?” I rattled off the digits and she added it to the contacts on her phone. When she was done, she turned back to me and smiled again. “I’ve got to go.” She leaned across the bed and kissed me one last time. I brought my hand up running my fingers along her jawline for a second before she pulled away. “This really was fun. I’ll see you around, Marcel.”

  With that, she left without another look back. The elevator hummed as it descended and I closed my eyes, setting the memories of the night before on repeat as I drifted off.

  But it wasn’t a restful sleep.

  I was being chased. Hunted. All throughout time. In one dream, I was in a dense forest running from someone I couldn’t see. The wolfsbane running through my system was clouding my vision and my veins were on fire. The gunshot wound in my left thigh was throbbing and it wasn’t healing, a surefire sign the bullet had been tainted. Or they were made of silver. Either way, I didn’t have the time or the clarity I needed to get the bullet out. So I ran.

  In the next dream, I was sneaking through the alleys of what looked like a village somewhere in Eastern Europe. I was no historian but everything looked old. Twelfth century kind of old. I went to peek around a corner and a throwing knife similar to one of Jamie’s sunk into the wood mere inches from my face. My assailant barely missed me and I wasn’t about to stick around to give them another shot. I turned back in the direction I’d come, searching for the best escape route. And I ran.

  In the next dream, I was in a castle. Others around me shouted in a thick Scottish brogue. Wagons in the courtyard were on fire and everyone was running around frantically, trying to snuff the flames with buckets of water. They made a valiant effort but they were having little effect on the blaze. Seeing the fires for the distraction they were, my eyes darted around the courtyard, searching every nook and corner for the real threat. An arrow slammed into my shoulder and I spun to find a dark figure in a hooded cloak reloading a crossbow. So I ran some more.

  By the time I opened my eyes again, I felt like I’d been running for decades. I rolled onto my back and noticed I was covered in sweat from head to toe. I reached down and grabbed the t-shirt from the night before and wiped my face and chest. As I tossed it back onto the floor, I reminded myself to strip the bed and throw in a load of laundry before I took off for the evening. I touched the screen of my phone and brought up the address book. The contact I needed was right near the top so I didn’t have to go searching for the number. I touched the name and turned on the speakerphone. It only rang once before he picked up.

  “So you are still alive. We were beginning to wonder.” I could hear the smile in Max’s voice. It wasn’t often that I slept in.

  “Sorry, it was a late night.”

  “I figured when I heard your guest leave. Who was it?” I was a little surprised he hadn’t guessed but I wasn’t about to confirm anything.

  “None of your damn business. How’s Dy
lan?”

  “Smooth subject change, boss. He’s good. Another solid night of sleep and our boy will be back to one hundred percent.” Our boy. Hearing him refer to Dylan that way should have brought me a sense of calm but it didn’t.

  "Does he know who did it?”

  "Yup, the pack we spotted peddling drugs to humans. He said it was three of their guys. They must have followed him when he left the Bullet. They got him leaving that chick’s house.”

  “Or she was taking one for the team to set him up.”

  “Also a possibility,” he agreed.

  “Alright, I will request a meeting with their alpha. In the meantime, I’m going to give Kade a call. I want to know if he’s heard anything about this new drug.”

  “He actually mentioned that he wants to talk to you as well. Something about Ace but he wouldn’t elaborate.” That news was worrisome. The last thing I needed was Ace’s mouth igniting a war with the vampires. Kade Walker, the head of the Walker coven, was a level-headed guy so I hoped it would come to that.

  “I’m going to hop in the shower. I’ll call him as soon as I get out and get a cup of coffee in me. Give him an update so he doesn’t think I’m blowing him off?”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be down to the shop shortly.”

  I hung up and forced myself to sit up and climb out of bed. I grabbed the fluffy blue towel draped over the back of my computer chair and headed for the bathroom. I turned the shower to the hottest setting and brushed my teeth while I let the water warm up. I finished rinsing my mouth and when I stood, the mirror had fogged over revealing a secret message written on the glass.

  I bet you’re naked right now, and now you’re thinking about me. - Jamie.

  For a girl with no interest in seeing any more of me, she sure had gone out of her way to ensure I didn’t forget about her. I brought my hand up to wipe it away but at the last second I decided to leave it there.