I stayed in the room I shared with Jeremy for the rest of the evening, going to bed early to avoid seeing him.
My family wasn’t as perfect as Amelia once liked to make out. Opa and Jeremy were one and the same, capable of doing terrible things. I wasn’t that far from becoming exactly like them. Where did it end? Perdita’s words echoed in my head all night. I couldn’t stay with them for much longer. I needed back in the security of Byron’s protection, his roof, his rules. I needed to be around people who thought that violence and murder were last resorts, not first options.
I needed to go home.
Chapter Three
Perdita
A trickle of red ran from my wrist and pooled in the crook of my inner elbow. I brushed the liquid away impatiently, staining most of my forearm in the process.
“Oh, my God!” Gran exclaimed from the doorway.
I rolled my eyes at her exaggerated excitement. “Yes?”
“That looks amazing. He’s going to be pleased, so pleased, when he sees it.”
That was the welcome home banner Gran was making me paint, but I was so nervous about Dad’s return that I kept making a mess.
“Oh, I can’t wait to hang it up. I can only imagine how happy he’ll be when he comes home.”
I couldn’t take any more. “Gran, he’s dreading coming home. He hates everyone in the world right now, and we’re going to bear the brunt of it. A stupid homemade banner isn’t going to change that.”
Her face fell.
“We’ll be okay eventually, but I can’t pretend he likes me very much right now. He’s never been this pissed at me before.”
She walked behind my chair and rested her hands on my shoulders. “I know, but he’s not himself at the moment. That’s all. We’ll get through this together.” She released her grip with a breathy gasp.
I looked around to see her holding a sheet in her hand: a picture I hadn’t torn up yet.
“Perdy,” she said, her voice trembling, “This is just wonderful.”
“What?” That hadn’t been the reaction I was expecting.
She put down the page and flicked through a sketchpad, then her gaze fell upon the bin full of scrunched up pages. She glanced at me. “You didn’t.” She grabbed a handful of pages and made an attempt to straighten them out.
“Gran, that’s private.”
“Private?” Her face cleared of confusion. “Oh, because it’s Nathan. But they’re so beautiful.” She held one out, but I refused to look at the image. “How can you draw this and think you have any place in the world other than as an artist of some kind?”
“Stop it.” I hurried to the bathroom where I scrubbed at my hands. The red paint swirled around the basin, invoking bad memories, and I washed those away, too. Nathan was away fighting violent werewolves, while I stayed home to paint banners and hide sketches.
“Perdy,” Gran said from the doorway. “Why are you upset with me?”
“I’m not upset with you. I’m just… I can’t stop drawing him. Even when I’m not thinking about him, out he pops from the end of my pencil. It’s annoying, that’s all.”
“You care about him. It’s only natural to find it hard to get over your first love.”
I choked out a strangled laugh. “Haven’t you heard Dad? Teenagers don’t love.”
“Oh, don’t give me that. He did when he was a teen. That’s what his problem is.”
“Gran…”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed about. You tell me he’s a good boy, and I believe you. You say he hasn’t done anything wrong, and I believe you. But when you tell me you don’t care, when you tell me you’re over it, those are the things I can’t believe. Not because there’s something wrong with you, but because you’re perfectly normal.”
“I miss him,” I whispered. “I miss… everything.”
“You could always talk to him.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to. I need to forget about this year, do whatever Dad wants, and when the time comes, go where I need to be.”
She hesitated. “I want you to be happy.”
I tried to smile. “I know, Gran. And I am happy. I’m just stressed about Dad right now.” I brushed past her, but I knew she didn’t buy it.
Dad was coming home the following afternoon, and I wished I knew how to fix the badness between us. I would do anything to make him better again.
Gran and I cleaned up the entire house, bought all of Dad’s favourite things to eat, and consulted with a tired-looking Erin on what we could do with him for the rest of the summer holidays to stop him from losing his mind completely. Of course, we didn’t vocalise it so bluntly, but I could totally tell we were all thinking the same thing.
“He’ll probably want a lot of rest,” Erin said doubtfully as she peered at Gran’s list of activities. “I mean, he’s still very weak.”
“Yeah, but sitting around doing nothing makes him grouchy.” I frowned, concerned by Erin’s wan complexion. “Are you getting enough rest?”
Dots of pink appeared on her cheekbones. “I’m fine.”
We spoke some more about the logistics of bringing Dad and his newly acquired mountain of hospital stuff home. He had pills to take, exercise routines to follow, all kinds of things designed to get him back to himself.
“Is he ever going to be the same again?” I asked.
“Of course,” Gran said.
But Erin wasn’t sure at all. “It’ll take time,” she said at last.
The guilt from that truth had been shadowing me for a while. The uncertainty and fear were derived from my actions. I had killed a werewolf, so his vengeful daughter had attacked my father. Although Jakob Evans had hinted that he knew how to fix Dad, the Evans family had kept their distance. No amount of hospital tests and pills could cure whatever was wrong with my father.
The next morning, Gran insisted on hovering around me until her nervousness had me wound just as tight, so I decided the banner was dry enough to hang up. When I finished, I climbed down from the stepladder and eyed the banner carefully. A little crooked, but maybe nobody would notice. I folded the ladder and prepared to go back inside.
“It’s a bit off,” a voice behind me said.
I dropped the ladder with a clatter that made me wince. I turned, saw who it was, and took an automatic step backward.
“Hey,” Amelia said somewhat sheepishly, and then it obviously dawned on her that there was fear on my expression, because she held up her hands. “I’m not going to… I wouldn’t hurt you or anything, Perdita. You know that, right?”
I shrugged. “Can’t be too careful these days.”
“I was afraid you’d be like this.” She looked crestfallen, and it annoyed me.
“Kind of hard to have a better reaction, considering the last time I saw you.”
Last time had been all fangs and claws. Not the best first wolfy impression. But I took a step toward her, unable to stop myself, unable to keep away for another second. Her family was the light I was desperate to touch, despite knowing it would eventually burn me to ash. They were the only people who knew what I had done and didn’t judge me for it. I couldn’t find peace elsewhere.
I stared at her, trying to swallow the emotions rushing around my body. “I like your hair.”
She rubbed the back of her shorn head. “I needed a change.” Although the back of her hair was cut tight, the front reached her chin and was dyed a teal blue.
“A lot’s changed.”
She inched forward as if unsure of herself. “I’ve wanted to come see you. To apologise. But I was kind of under house arrest until they were sure, well, until they were sure I wouldn’t hurt anyone.” She held up her chin, a strange mixture of pride and uncertainty fleeting across her face. “I can control it now. I’m so sorry, Perdita.”
I inched closer to her, remembering the fangs and single-minded determination to tear out my throat. I flexed my fingers. “It’s okay.”
“It was the shock. And the hunger. All of th
at time I was sick, it was really the wolf starving, so when the time came, I couldn’t get control. The wolf took over, and I saw what was happening, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I was trapped in there, watching myself…” She shook her head.
“Ryan helped me,” I said, remembering how Nathan hadn’t.
She nodded enthusiastically. “He’s helping me now, too.”
“He didn’t leave?”
Her face fell. “No, that was just Opa, Jeremy, and Willow.” She cleared her throat. “And Nathan.”
I shrugged. “He told me he was leaving.”
“Did he?” She looked away. “That’s good, I suppose.”
“If you say so.”
“He hates me now. That’s why he left. To get away from me.”
Frowning, I saw she really believed her words. “I doubt that, Amelia.”
“It’s true! He’s blaming me for everything. He couldn’t wait to get away from me. I didn’t know he would be like this.”
I knew it was me he was running from, but I didn’t think I could convince her of that. “Um, how’s Cú?” I held my breath. I had been afraid to ask about Nathan’s dog. Amelia had hurt him in her attempt to get to me, and I had basically lived in terror ever since in case he had died trying to protect me.
Her cheeks flushed. “He’s okay. His injuries weren’t as bad as they looked, but…”
“But what?”
She shook her head jerkily. “He’s missing you. Like, really bad. He had that bond with you, and well, he’s pining for you now.”
“I miss him, too,” I said wistfully, not altogether sure who I was talking about.
Amelia’s jean pocket thrummed loudly. She automatically reached for it and paused, her fingers hovering briefly.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Answer it.”
She grinned, and she was a new person. All of the time I had known her, I had thought of her as happy, but there was her real smile. Everything had changed.
“It’s probably just Connor,” she said before faltering. “I, um—”
“I’m not that bad,” I said. “I do actually want other people to be happy, you know.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Of course you do. I don’t know what it feels like for you. Did everything just stop?”
I swallowed hard. “The curse stopped.” I watched as her eyes widened with realisation. “I thought you didn’t like Connor that much,” I added to interrupt her train of thought.
“I do.” Her face lit up. “I really do. We’ve been texting a lot. I lied and told him I was away because of a death in the family. The way I felt before was all Kali’s fault.”
“Kali?” I squinted. How much had I missed?
“Oh! I forgot you don’t know the full story yet. I have so much to tell you.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets. “I don’t really have time for that. Dad’s on his way home, and I’m kind of barred from, well, everything, but especially your family.”
“I understand that. But it’s important we talk soon.”
“I’m serious, Amelia. I can’t see you anymore. Dad’s not been himself. The only time I’m going to be allowed out of the house is when I start work experience next week.”
“Work experience? Where?”
I sighed. “At the library. But I still can’t see you. I promised.”
She hesitated, appearing a little disappointed, but I waved her on and went back inside. I was serious about making an effort to stick with Dad’s rules, especially since seeing Amelia had hurt more than not seeing her.
Dad and Erin arrived within the hour, distracting me from thoughts of Amelia. Gran and I hurried outside to greet them, but Dad’s expression was one great big thundercloud. Erin attempted to help him out of the car, but he brushed her away impatiently, struggling to exit the vehicle by himself. His eyebrows knit tightly together, and Erin’s lips pressed into a thin line. They had obviously been arguing again. It was as if he thought being sick was a good enough excuse to be awful to absolutely everyone around him.
“Can I help?” I asked, taking a step toward him, but his glare had me backing away.
“I can get out of the car and into the house myself,” he snapped, but for one agonising second, he appeared to fall until he managed to balance with his walking stick and pull himself upright.
He didn’t look at the banner. He didn’t look at me. He strode into the house slowly and carefully, keeping his head high. I knew his pride was wounded, but he was being ridiculous.
Gran darted around us nervously with offerings of tea, lunch, and anything else she could think of to appease him. He remained in a rotten mood, refusing everything. My own frustration grew along with the darkness of his disposition.
“I was thinking we could go out to dinner tomorrow,” Erin said pleasantly. “All of us.”
“No, thanks,” Dad said. “I don’t want the entire neighbourhood staring at me.”
“Dad,” I said, “they aren’t going to stare. People have been worried about you.”
His gaze fell on me for the first time. “Do you really think you should be drawing attention to yourself? After everything you’ve done?”
I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t say anything. He was right. I had let him down in ways he didn’t even know about, and I was sorry for it. The punishment seemed to be eternal, but nothing was worse than the one Nathan had doled out.
Chapter Four
Nathan
Lyon
We had been driving for hours, but at least the snow had stopped falling. The sky was still a pure blue, and the biting cold wind had vanished a half-hour ago. We were back into nice, boring, thankfully warm sun. I was glad to get out of the mountains.
I opened the window all the way, relishing the warmer breeze against my skin. Jeremy was still ignoring me. He could sit in the back with Willow and act like a statue for all I cared. I grew more and more eager to go back to Ireland with every minute that passed.
We checked in at a hotel in the city, but we had barely taken a breather when we left on foot to follow another of Willow’s leads. She had given us all kinds of crap about moving further into Vin’s territories, but we had come up with nothing useful. I got the feeling she was scraping the bottom of the barrel.
We walked along cobblestone streets between tall, crowded buildings. A lot of different noises and scents distracted me, and my wolf grew antsy.
To my surprise, Willow led us to a crooked building that housed flats above a shop. We needed space to move. How could a werewolf survive in a tiny flat? Even walking up the dark stairwell made me feel as though I might suffocate. I heard a dog barking behind the first door we passed. Poor little yappy thing must have gone mental stuck in there alone.
Our destination was the lone flat on the top floor. The stench of rival werewolf choked the air. We were definitely in the right place. Jeremy nodded at me; the presence of a potential enemy overrode the tension between us.
A scrawny man in his thirties answered Jeremy’s brisk rap on the door. He glared at us until realisation hit. He backed away, avoiding eye contact.
“Malachai,” Willow said.
He looked at her sharply, confusion muddying his blue eyes. “You look… different,” he said slowly, probably biding his time.
“We’re here to talk,” Opa said. “We aren’t a threat to you right now. Can we come in?”
Malachai hesitated, then reluctantly invited us in to his flat. Lines were gouged into one white wall, as if he had clawed it in a rage, but I pretended not to notice. Willow and Malachai sat on a two-seater sofa, but the rest of us stood until Malachai grew so uncomfortable that he ended up getting to his feet, too.
“What do you want?” he asked, still avoiding our eyes and edging around the room in a way that made me want to pounce. “Did Vin send you? What’s going on now?”
Opa and Jeremy exchanged glances. He didn’t know us, didn’t know we weren’t part of his pack. That seemed impossible to me.
<
br /> “Do you remember Ryan?” Willow said. “The Scot whose daughters you helped kidnap?”
His face paled, and he shook his head. “Not… kidnap. I was… Vin told me to… it’s not kidnapping to bring home the pack.”
“These are the Evans wolves,” she told him, pointing at us. “Do you understand yet?”
“No, Willow. No!” He stared at her in horror, putting as much distance between him and us as possible. “What are you doing? Are you crazy? Why would you bring them here?”
“We’re here to help you. All of you,” Opa explained, almost gently. “We can end Vin’s time as alpha. We can help you free yourself.”
Malachai trembled. His weakness provoked my wolf, and I struggled to stay calm. Too many scents, too many emotions in such a small space.
“Get out,” Malachai hissed when he found his voice. “Get out before you get me killed. He’s alpha. I’m his. That’s how it is. If he finds out you were here—”
“We can protect you,” Jeremy said, but his tone was dull, as if he had already given up hope. He probably thought Malachai wasn’t worth protecting.
“I have a pack. I don’t need your protection.”
“But you’re here alone,” I pointed out.
Malachai’s eyes fell on me with hatred in their midst. “Not for long,” he said, managing to colour his words with spite.
Jeremy took one step toward him, but the man flinched so violently that my cousin made a scornful sound. “Let’s get out of here. Leave the coward to his own devices.”
We left the building and walked back to the hotel in silence. Another failure. At least if Ryan was all we had, there was one decent wolf backing us up. I couldn’t call Willow a “good” wolf, but she seemed capable enough as long as someone told her what to do. I just wished we had more fighters on our side. Our pack had increased by one, but I couldn’t imagine my weepy, attention-seeking little sister would be much use in a fight.
“Have we done enough yet?” I asked. “Are we going home?”
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