“Believe me, I know. You would have accepted and loved me regardless of my situation. I know you and I knew that. You have to understand there are dangers in our world I would rather not expose you to. I wasn’t going to let them get to you if I could help it.”
She understood but it didn’t ease the pain. Callan turned from her sad expression and went to straighten the table and chair Mesha had knocked over. He handled each item like they were fragile eggs and he might burst them. When everything was situated he sat on the edge of the chair like it was made of splintering glass.
“Tyson’s worried about your sanity,” he said as he sat.
“Yeah, he told me,” she replied in a huff.
He fidgeted and stood, pacing near the large window. “Not many people have the courage to stare a monster down and call him what he is,” he said as he walked.
“I only just found out what he is and he’s not a monster.”
“I know, sis, but most anyone else would have seen it that way.”
Her face got hot and she knew Callan would see through the feeble mask she tried to display. He watched her and smiled.
“You are very defensive of Tyson all the sudden. Did something happen I should know about?”
“No,” she answered without meeting his eyes.
He laughed then fell onto the bed that hadn’t been used. Lacing his fingers behind his head he stared at the ceiling as if challenging it. “How’s dad?”
“Bitter,” Clara answered honestly. “He hasn’t changed since the day you left.”
Her brother didn’t move. “I wish I could go back.”
She went to sit on the bed near him, resting her back to the headboard. “Lots of people wish that about different things. The fact is I’m glad we’re here and that we’re together.”
He grinned and glanced at her. “Thanks, sis. I do wish it was under different circumstances, but I’m glad to see you too. It’s been hard to be away and not a day went by that you weren’t in my thoughts. A part of me is angry at dad, but I miss him.”
“We should call him,” she said brightly. “I’m sure he’s starting to wonder where I went.”
“That would be nice, but we can’t. It would put him in danger. Why do you think I never called you?”
“If Parker is after me why would he bother with dad?”
“You don’t know how these people think, sis. He would use dad to make you cooperate. I don’t think Parker knows where dad is, otherwise he would have found you a long time ago. We can’t leave any clues that will lead him to dad.”
She nodded. “Alright, alright.”
He stared intensely at the ceiling and she knew he was getting ready to say something he’d rather not. She wasn’t stunned when he asked the next question. “Did they ever find anything more about mom?”
She suddenly became interested in picking at the ends of her hair. “If they did, no one ever told me.”
“Do you think they told dad and he never told you?”
Shrugging, she didn’t look up when he peeked in her direction. “It’s possible. Dad hasn’t been much of a talker lately.”
In one solid motion he sat up. “I’m sorry, Clara. You never should have gone through all that on your own.”
Unsure of how to respond, she nodded. He looked as if he wanted to say more but the door bounced open. Tyson and Mesha came in, Mesha’s eyes were alive and she glared at Callan.
“You two,” Tyson pointed first to Callan then Mesha, “need to sort out your differences.”
“I don’t have any differences,” Callan said pointedly. “She’s the one—”
“I don’t care, you need to sort it out. Clara, will you please come with me?” He spoke a little softer to her.
“Where are you taking her?” Callan asked quickly as she got obediently to her feet.
“To the store,” Tyson’s answer was lined with a growl not suited for a human’s voice. Callan seemed all too used to it.
“What about this one?” He pointed to Mesha and she looked like she might bite his finger off. “She might need something.”
“We’ve been already.”
“Oh.” He was crestfallen and glanced at Mesha who glowered in his general direction. Tyson waved Clara out of the room.
“I’m sorry, I hope you don’t mind. Ideally, I would prefer you spend more time with Cal, but we have to get going. Arrangements have been made for us at the new hideout. We won’t get there for a few days and I thought you might want a change of clothes in that time.”
“Of course, thank you,” she muttered.
Outside the overcast sky threatened to burst and pour. The smell of autumn was on the slight breeze. The car Tyson assisted her into was different from the one they’d ridden out of the mountains. It smelled new and sported dealer’s plates.
“You go through cars quickly,” she observed when he got behind the wheel.
“We’re harder to trace that way.”
Unsure if he was serious, she stole a quick look at him as they pulled out of the parking lot. Of course he was reserved and distant, yet calm and collective as he drove. He didn’t take her far and never went above the speed limit. He parked at a general supermarket and switched the car off. Immediately he dug in his pants pocket and produced a wallet. Extracting a few hundred dollar bills, he handed them to her.
“Here, get anything you want or need.”
“I can’t take—”
“Yes, you can,” he said, cutting her off. She eyed the money and shook her head. Anger shadowed his features, but the moment passed and he laughed. “Listen, Clara, I’m not sure you’re aware how old I actually am.”
Instantly interested, she sat up straight. “How old are you?”
Amused, the corners of his mouth twitched. “I was nearly twenty-eight when I was bitten, but I’ve been this way many, many years. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“I would,” she said quickly.
“You wouldn’t, but that’s not the point. I’ve had money in banks for ages. I’m sure you know what that means.”
“It accumulates interest, but it’s still your money. My purse was in Mark’s truck, didn’t anyone grab it?”
“Of course.”
She sat expectantly. When he was obviously not going to produce it, she asked, “Well? Where is it?”
“Burned,” Tyson said as if that were the only clear thing to do with a purse.
“What? Why?” Clara practically screeched.
“Anything that could be traced to you was burned…along with your car.”
She shook her head and looked away with an incredulous laugh. “How can you burn someone’s things?” she asked heatedly.
“I didn’t, but it was the only thing to do.” Tyson held out the money again. “You could buy a new purse.”
Without further hesitation, she snatched it. “As far as I’m concerned, you owe me the value of my car at the very least!” She threw her door open and marched toward the store’s entrance. She thought she’d have a few seconds to recover from the shock of learning her things had gone up in smoke, but had forgotten his inhuman speed and he matched her pace stride for stride. In the store Tyson, a habitual leader, led the way passed aisles. The lights reflected in the shiny, waxed surface of the floor and seemed to move when they walked. It was before five on a weekday and the store wasn’t very busy. She noticed older couples and a few couples pushing shopping carts, some with small children in tow.
Tyson’s rapid pace brought them to an aisle of luggage and travel bags. He pulled a black nylon duffle bag off a metal shelf. “Here,” he said and pushed it in her hands. “Use this. It will save time.”
“Thanks.” She pulled the strap free and slung it over her shoulder.
“I have to get some things. Will you be able to manage on your own?”
“Of course.” She waved him off.
She quickly found everything she needed, going from department to department and perusing the me
rchandise. She was in the jeans looking at a pair she liked when she noticed a young man eyeing her. At least, she thought he was eyeing her. His black, glossy hair was combed in such a way that his bangs covered his face and he had to continuously jerk his head in order to see at all. He was a teenager, probably still attending high school, and he wore the store’s uniform. He straightened a display of cotton shirts as he watched her between twitches. She ignored him and went the other way. When she looked again, he was gone and she went back to find the jeans. She was startled from her shopping when the boy returned with a man in a security guard uniform.
“Excuse me, miss?” he asked as he approached, stopping at the rack she stood near. “Are you Clara Rita?”
“No,” she lied quickly, feeling trapped and suddenly very alone. “You have the wrong person.” Her attempt to put some distance between herself and the guard was thwarted when he took a hold of her arm.
“I’m going to have to ask for ID,” he stated.
Panic gripped her as she stared into his brown eyes. “I don’t have my ID. If I’d known I’d be interrogated in the middle of shopping, I would’ve brought it.”
“What’s your name?”
“Callan,” she said the first name that popped in her head.
“Callan?” the officer asked disbelievingly.
“Yes,” she affirmed with forced bravado.
“Callan what?”
“Smith.”
He raised a brow at her.
“I’m sorry, I hope you find who you’re looking for, but I have a lot to do today if you’ll kindly let go of my arm?” He did not heed the hint.
“Ma’am, I don’t believe your name is Callan Smith.”
“I have no control over what you believe.”
The black and white peppered mustache under his nose twitched. “I have eyes ma’am and I would appreciate it if you didn’t insult my intelligence. Do yourself a favor and don’t make a scene here. I’m giving you a chance to come quietly.”
Her mind rushed to think of something she could say to get out of the situation, but was saved the trouble when Tyson’s voice growled over them. “Do yourself a favor and let her go.” He came from nowhere as he had a tendency to do, bearing a scowl that would have incinerated the guard if it were any more severe. The teenage worker stepped back while holding his bangs to one side.
“Who are you?” the man demanded. “I’m going to have to ask you to step back, son.”
Tyson laughed. “Let go of her, now.”
“I am authorized—” he started to oppose, but the sentence was never finished. The guard went flying before anyone knew what happened and landed on a stand of brightly labeled clearance items that crashed to the floor. The young man was suddenly frozen and stared with buggy eyes.
“Tyson!” Clara said through her teeth. “You didn’t have to hurt him!”
“He’s not hurt.” He nodded toward the guard who was getting to his feet. People began appearing around shelves and wracks of clothing, eager to see the unfolding drama. Tyson grabbed her wrist and jerked her so quickly that she dropped her bag. She ran to keep up, but he didn’t stop until they came to the car and he pushed her in.
“What just happened?” she asked him breathlessly as the engine roared to life. “How did they know who I was?”
The car sped out the lot, jolting when he didn’t heed the speed bumps. “Parker must have you on TV.”
“TV? How is that possible?”
“He could have reported you as missing, or as someone involved in a crime. They must have seen your picture on the news or something.”
“Maybe it would be better for all of us if this Parker person actually met me,” she commented in an offhand manner. Tyson turned to her with a horrified expression.
“Why would you suggest such a thing?!”
“I can’t help but think if he knew me he would know he had the wrong girl.”
“How would he know that?”
“Do you really think anyone who’s a…a…”
“Werewolf.”
“Yes.” She began nervously toying with her hair. “Nobody like that could love me, could they?”
He glanced at her as he drove. “What makes you say that?”
She shrugged. “I am mortal.”
“Werewolves have loved mortals before.”
“You mentioned mortals have intertwined with werewolves, but they’ve loved one another? How did they make the relationship work?”
“That’s a good question, I never wanted to find the answer before.”
“Oh.” A small bubble of hope had grown in her chest and popped at his words. She looked away while twisting her hair, relieved when they arrived at the hotel a few minutes later.
“Come on,” he said. Clara reached for the door handle, but he had it open before she could touch it. They rushed up, this time taking the elevator. Callan and Mesha were there and appeared to have worked out their differences. Callan lay on the bed nearest the door and Mesha was at the table, eating again. The TV was on the news channel, but had been muted. A man stood by the window. Clara recognized him as the one who helped fight off the wild dogs back at the mansion.
“Jack,” Tyson acknowledged the addition with a nod of his head.
“Tyson.” He pointed to the television. “Did you realize she’s all over the news?”
“Now you tell me! We’ve got to get out of here. Wake Callan.”
Clara moved to better see the screen as they sprang into action. Her picture, one she used on a social networking site, was in the upper right hand corner. A newsman’s mouth moved voicelessly as he stared intently at her. She read the headline hovering behind his head. Disturbed Young Woman Robs Local Convenience Store. Glad she couldn’t hear the announcer, she punched the button to turn the set off. She was just in time to see Jack wake Callan by hitting him in the arm. Rubbing his eyes, her brother stood from the bed. “What’s going on?” he asked sleepily.
“Pack up, Clara was spotted.”
Callan rushed to her. “What happened?” he asked, giving her a once over to make sure she was in one piece.
“I’m fine, nothing happened.”
“You said you would take care of her,” Callan shot irritably at Tyson.
Clara grabbed her brother’s arm. “He did take care of me, otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here.”
He was somewhat pacified by her answer. “If anything happens I will never forgive myself.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” she said.
“Hurry.” Tyson started urging people out of the room. Back in the car, Mesha put her things in the trunk. Jack came out of the hotel last, but never gave the car a glance. Instead, he rapidly walked away.
“Is he going to run?” Mesha asked and Tyson nodded. “He’s going to meet you later on, right?”
“Of course, he just isn’t a fan of being confined in small spaces.” Tyson got behind the wheel.
“I’m going with him,” Mesha said and ran after his retreating back.
“That’s a relief,” Callan sighed as he watched her go.
“I thought I told you to work things out,” Tyson said tiredly.
“We did, that doesn’t make the tension more tolerable.”
Clara wondered how they’d worked things out, but wasn’t given a chance to inquire. Callan opened the car door, indicating she should sit in front. She obliged without questioning his passive aggressive attitude. Just like that, they were on the road again. Tyson pressed the gas to the floor and dodged around anything in his way. He seemed irritated that the car could not go faster.
“What will you do if you get pulled over?” she asked after a particularly close call.
“Tyson can usually see the cops before they see him,” Callan told her.
“I’ve never been pulled over,” Tyson affirmed.
Callan had implied heightened senses came when they were in their wolf forms, but Tyson’s reflexes were so fine tuned she was sure they were
going to crash and shut her eyes on more than one occasion. Tyson and Callan, however, were relaxed. Several times, Clara gasped “Watch out!” By the time her words were out, he’d passed the obstacle she thought impossible to avoid. After a sharp turn, she put her arm out to keep from falling. She’d put her seatbelt on, but thought she’d need two with Tyson’s crazy driving. She heard Callan inhale sharply and his fingers closed around her arm.
“Clara, what happened?” he asked as he fingered the gash she sustained when the wolves attacked. The top of the wound was visible under the collar of her shirt.
“Wolves,” she said, assuming he’d been told.
“Wolves?” he asked. The cut had healed over into a nice purple scab. “What do you know about this?” he asked Tyson, brandishing the wound and nearly tearing her arm from its socket.
“No,” Tyson said with a shake of his head. “That can’t be the same wound.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “You tended to it.”
Tyson’s brow fell and he leaned closer, freeing a hand to pull her shirt down at the neckline. “This is nearly healed. It can’t be the same—”
“She heals quickly,” Callan pointed out. “My mom was the same way. Remember that time you broke your arm and the doctor removed the cast a week later?”
“It must have been a small fracture, no doctor would—”
“No, it wasn’t. I was there. Her arm was dangling in an odd way and the bone stuck out of her skin. Actually, I remember thinking it was kind of cool. The doctor said it was miraculous how quickly she healed, but nobody in the family was surprised.”
“You left out how my arm was broken,” she interjected.
“That was an accident, I keep telling you it wasn’t my fault!”
The response she had ready died when Tyson jerked the car around. They skidded across four lanes of traffic and fishtailed when he got it pointed in the opposite direction. Clara smacked into the door as the car straightened out.
“What the heck was that about?” Callan yelled from his position on the floor.
“You never told me that about Clara.”
“I never thought it was relevant, I don’t see how it is now.”
“I don’t know if it is, but there are too many coincidences and I think your father has some explaining to do,” Tyson all but growled.
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