by Hettie Ivers
“If you’ll recall,” Alcaeus chimed in, “Joaquin’s family expected to absorb his magic once he’d passed. But the opposite happened, and his family’s powers were diminished upon his death—the curse proceeding to leech power from every living generation of Salvatella, no matter how far removed.”
“For a blood curse of this magnitude to persist for as long as it has, it has required far more power than what its creator originally gave to it,” Kai said. “Even bestowing all of the magic he had to the curse, Joaquin knew it would never be enough. He knew the curse would require an ongoing power supply in order to endure for as long as he desired it to. Obviously, with no one he could trust to fuel it after he was gone, he had to design it to be more or less … self-sufficient.”
I tipped my wine glass back. It hadn’t escaped my notice that Kai had said “self-sufficient” like it was a negative quality.
“So he relied on the touchy-feely power source he knew best,” Remy revealed with a smirk. “Raw emotion. Because despite what my Neanderthal brothers would have you believe, the energy generated by strong emotions lives on longer than any physical blast. Think about it: when people visit famous battle sites, war camps, or other places where historical, gruesome crimes once occurred, they often report still being able to sense the emotions in the air—as if they were a palpable, tangible energy—even multiple decades and centuries later.
“Joaquin knew there could be no more reliable source of energy with which to fuel the curse designed to punish his family for their crimes, than the very emotions that led them to those sins. Emotions like greed. Wrath. Vengeance. For as long as they would generate such emotions, they would be punished for them through the blood curse. As the more they fought and backstabbed amongst themselves in search of the missing Alpha blood of Joaquin, the more they saw their own powers diminished. All providing more fodder to bolster the heart of the curse.”
“Quite brilliant, to a point,” Kai remarked. “Joaquin essentially crafted a circular, self-fulfilling prophecy, a self-punishment if you will, whereby his family would either destroy themselves through their own doing or finally learn from their sins and find salvation. And at the same time, he thought he was ensuring the protection of his slain mate Sofia’s surviving lineage.”
“But imagine the insatiable enmity attached to such a curse at this point,” Alcaeus said. “When the greater source of underlying power is generated from something as volatile as an accretion of bloodthirsty emotions, well … the end result can only ultimately be an explosive disaster, right?”
Oh, Jesus. “Is there a reassuring part you’re getting to soon?” I cut in. “A cure spell you’ve concocted for this ricochet effect? Because I kinda thought the part about me not being in danger of being used as another Luiza pawn was going to result in some good news.”
Alex squeezed my free hand in his. “The ricochet discovery is the good news, baby. It means your assault on Lessa was a random accident, rather than an insidious attack orchestrated by the Salvatellas.”
“And that qualifies as good news?” I squeaked. “The fact that I’m a blood-curse time bomb, not just a Salvatella pawn?”
“Welcome to the pack.” Kai raised his wine glass to me in salute as the others nodded and murmured in the affirmative about the ricochet indeed being good news.
Awesome. I tossed the rest of my wine back. “Could I get another glass, please?”
Remy was kind enough to oblige me as Alex proceeded to corroborate Alcaeus’s lovely prediction that Joaquin’s blood curse could only ultimately result in an explosive disaster.
“Particularly since Joaquin caused the curse to be so sensitive—so expansive and reactive to those same emotions that would feed it,” Alex reasoned. “He clearly intended for the blood curse to be self-supporting. What he very foolishly failed to foresee was the potential for such a living, breathing curse to truly take on a life of its own. Absurd really, that he planned for it to grow and amass power but never contemplated the possibility that such expansion might alter and warp the underlying spell’s intent over time.”
Kai nodded. “Fortunately, the critical part he got right was making sure the heart of the blood curse would only come to reside in a Morales descendant who was pure of heart. At least he had enough sanity and forethought left to comprehend that a power of this enormity would be too dangerous and far too tempting in the wrong hands. It’s dangerous enough in a saint’s hands, given the ricochet aspect now.”
Fortified by a glass and a half of red wine, I interjected, “But my emotions affect the curse, too. I’ve felt it.”
“Of course they do, baby,” Alex acknowledged. “But it will take some time and effort for you to learn how to focus those emotions, not to mention the trial and error entailed in discerning what impact each miniscule emotional response might have when the ricochet effect is enacted.”
I shook my head. “Right. I get what you’re saying, but I don’t entirely agree with all of your assumptions. I mean, it’s true, I have sensed that on its own Joaquin’s blood curse is predisposed to seek pure retribution in quite a … um … primal form. But I believe my influence tempers it into something more … mild. More reasonable. Maybe it doesn’t always have to attack back when I’m attacked? Maybe I can stop it?”
A scan of the room found them all regarding me as if I’d just announced a belief in Santa Claus.
“Riight,” Remy intoned awkwardly.
Alex cleared his throat. “Sweetheart, we know you never intended to harm Lessa, but the blood curse attacked her just the same. It doesn’t discriminate. And your inherent gentleness didn’t temper the curse’s predilection where Lessa was concerned.”
But in truth, I had intended to harm Lessa. She’d been a royal bitch to me during our last encounter.
“I swung a fucking iron pan at her face, Alex. So perhaps I misled the curse through my violent actions and therefore it didn’t register my inherent gentleness?”
“Perhaps,” Alex appeased with a burst of laughter.
“More wine, Milena?” Remy offered, chuckling along with Alex and the others at my caustic rant. “Our little vessel’s hot when she’s drunk and sassy.”
“Wait till you’ve witnessed her go hall-monitor on a Salvatella,” Alcaeus said, wagging his brows at me.
“She’s not used to undiluted wine yet,” Alex told them in my defense.
“She is right here,” I gritted. “I’m not drunk; I’m upset.” I went to tip my wine glass back again, and it vanished from my hand. “Hey!” I glared at Alex. “When do I get to learn how to make things disappear?”
“When I’m not so terrified you’ll try to use your newfound magic to make me disappear,” Alex joked, tickle-wrestling me into his lap. I struggled against his arms and his charm, but failed. “Don’t be upset, please,” he begged in my ear. “We’ll figure out this ricochet thing together, okay? Promise.”
I nodded, feeling a warm blush sweep over me from just looking at him. And sitting in his lap.
“Which brings us to the next important topic of discussion,” Alcaeus segued. “It’s been seven days since Alex’s blood initiated your transformation.”
Buzzkill. Just when I was starting to feel sexy, the topic of my Cujo transformation had to come up. Alcaeus did have shitty timing.
“We know that Gabe and Nuriel delivered you to us on purpose, most likely anticipating that we’d punish you for Raul’s crimes, and in doing so activate the blood curse. We think they learned from Raul that you held the heart of the curse, and I’ll wager they expected some sort of boomerang effect to do us all in when we attempted to harm you. What they never in a million years planned on was you being Alex’s mate. Or me being the guardian of Hector’s bloodline.” Alcaeus winked at me.
“It’s entirely possible they didn’t initially know all of the details of Joaquin’s curse, and they may still not know that it’s reacting with a ricochet when threatened,” Alcaeus said. “But they seem to know enough about it
to fear some kind of a rebound powerful enough to impact them even in a dream state, based on Raul’s panic last night.”
Alex’s arms tightened around me as he clarified, “Raul feared Alcaeus and I would anger Gabriel to the point he’d lose it and lash out and attack us without thinking his actions through. Since we were all in your subconscious, it would’ve amounted to Gabriel attacking you, which would have activated the blood curse’s response.”
Not for the first or surely the last time, I wished I’d paid better attention during those Harry Potter movies. This was so not my milieu. I let my body relax into Alex’s embrace as I pondered what Dumbledore might do in my shoes.
“Now, consider the fact you’re not fully turned yet and I’m still holding the lion’s share of Joaquin’s blood magic on your behalf,” Alcaeus proceeded. “We can only imagine the level of destruction and carnage that ricochet might produce once you are turned and in possession of the full magic behind it.
“You see, unfortunately, newly turned wolves tend to be unstable and can pose a temporary threat to any pack until brought to heel. But a newly turned wolf with powerful werelock blood who also happens to be packing a highly volatile, vengeful blood curse is, as you said, a virtual ticking time bomb.”
Great. I got to be a dog and a time bomb. How did one girl get so lucky?
Kai very thoughtfully brought me a glass of water as Alcaeus and Alex went on to suggest that one of them hold the preponderance of my Joaquin Salvatella blood magic for a while longer, even after I turned Cujo, in order to give us more time to figure out how to control the ricochet.
Fine by me. I couldn’t toss a Frisbee straight. How the fuck was I ever going to harness and control the aim of a ricochet—something which by definition was random and beyond control? I’d probably just wind up aiming it back at myself.
I let the wine I’d consumed numb my senses as they argued over whether it should be Alex or Alcaeus who held onto my Joaquin blood power. Remy and Kai weighed in, making it a three-to-one vote in favor of Alcaeus continuing to hold it. When they looked to me for input, I held my palm and my water glass up. Not going there.
I was relieved for the change of topic when the discussion turned to Jussara. It seemed Jussara had only recently learned of her Salvatella heritage, and was a bit resentful at having been lied to about her parentage her entire life. I certainly could relate to that. She was also apparently curious about her Salvatella relations and had been eager to learn more about them through Raul. Couldn’t say I shared her enthusiasm on that front.
Alcaeus confirmed Jussara had sustained a solid friendship with my brother since his first year in Brazil, and that she had been quite angry and upset over the way he’d most recently been treated by Alex and Alessandra. Yet another mark in her favor in my book.
Remy maintained that Jussara’s loyalty to the Reinoso pack had always been questionable at best, saying he’d often read her emotions over the years and had predicted her eventual defection, noting how rebellion and faithlessness were a part of her very nature. His prognosis was supported by the fact that she was now allegedly haggling with them over the price of her loyalty, as well as the price of her assistance in influencing Raul.
“Am I the only one who thinks trusting our fates to a mercenary, opportunistic little bitch is a bad call to make?” Remy asked the room. “I mean, really? The girl’s a scamp. Alcaeus gave her the moon, and still she’d fleece little omegas out of their lunch money on the schoolyard, remember? For sport! Jussara’s a born hustler, incapable of loyalty. You want to know whose side she’s on? Whoever the highest bidder is.”
“She’s clever is what she is,” Alcaeus defended with a goofy grin.
“Spoken like a true idiot parent,” Kai affirmed. “Well? Let’s hear her demands then.”
“Listen, all things considered, she’s not asking for that much …” Alcaeus dithered, tugging at the back of his neck.
Kai and Remy groaned in unison.
Alex rolled his eyes. “What’s it going to cost me, Al?”
“She wants Raul. When we recover him from the Salvatellas, she wants him turned over to her custody.”
“No,” Alex immediately declined. “Not up for negotiation. Next?”
Alcaeus’s gaze shifted to Remy. “She wants all of Remy’s human female friends set free and given one million dollars apiece in reparations.”
“What?” Remy balked, spewing wine halfway across my living room as he jumped from his seat in indignation. “That snide little cunt! As if! How dare she? My God … how dare she imply? As if they were slaves I’d been keeping captive against their will all this time?”
“I’m inclined to agree to that one,” Kai motioned, biting his lip to suppress laughter. “All in favor?”
My hand was the first to shoot up in agreement as Remy slung profanity Kai’s way.
“Why the fuck am I being targeted?” Remy protested. “This is an outrage!”
“Done,” Alex settled. “What else?”
“She wants Kai to apologize for killing Jacinda.”
“Ha!” Remy taunted, pointing his index finger and wine glass in Kai’s face.
“Whatever.” Kai rolled bored eyes. “Big deal. I’ll apologize.”
“Publicly,” Alcaeus appended with a wince. “In a funeral service in front of the whole pack.”
“Aha-ha-ha-ha! In your smug fucking face,” Remy heckled.
“Fine,” Kai grumbled. “Not a problem.”
“There’s more.” Alcaeus cleared his throat. “You also have to sing at the funeral service.”
“Oh, c’mon! What the fuck, Al?” Kai detonated. “This is all because you never spanked that little succubus like I told you to!”
“What’s the song?” Remy was practically rolling on the floor with laughter. “Oh, my God, what’s the song? I know that evil extortionist picked a good song.”
Alcaeus released a breath. “Wind Beneath My Wings.”
“Naturally,” Alex muttered.
“Not in this fucking lifetime,” Kai rejected while Remy hooted and hollered his approval from my living room carpet.
“He’ll do it,” Alex accepted on Kai’s behalf. “Agreed. What else?”
“Well … there are a few minor items I’ve already agreed to …”
“Such as?” Alex pressed Alcaeus.
“Thirty million reals, ten million American dollars, ten million euros, my house in Morumbi, my property in Barbados—”
“Ungrateful witch!” exclaimed Remy, arising from the floor. “What? The brat doesn’t want your home in Saint Lucia, too? Why stop at Barbados and that shack in Morumbi? No Italian villa for Jussara? You have three of those. I can’t believe she didn’t require your flat in London or the penthouse in New York City.”
“Look, it’s not a big deal. I’ve already agreed. The cash will come from me, no one else.”
Alex was quiet. I studied his profile. He looked suspicious … like he wasn’t buying this list of demands.
“Let’s not waste time, Al,” he finally prodded. “What’s the girl’s real game this time?”
Alcaeus looked to the ceiling, tugging on the back of his neck again as he exhaled. “Jussara wants the Rogue to live.”
The room fell silent. And I could’ve cut the charged disbelief in the air with a knife. Finally, Alex quietly declared, “Never. Negotiation over.”
Kai burst out laughing next. Loudly. Hysterically—like some kind of punch-drunk hyena. It was the most I’d ever heard him express amusement before.
“Oh, my God,” he chortled, dabbing tears from his eyes. “I can’t believe I once changed that traitorous bitch’s diapers. She even shat on me. Multiple times!” He shook his head, his laughter evaporating. “Fuck it. Let’s trade her.”
“Not an option,” Alcaeus snarled.
“The Rogue, Al?” Kai shouted in retort. “The fucking Rogue? Does she think to keep it for a pet? Like that beast of a pony you gave her for her sixth birthday?”<
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“Damnit, things have been hard for her; you know that. She doesn’t understand; she feels alone in the world—”
“Al,” Kai cut him short, “she’s gone from crossing lines to leaping into enemy territory. You’ve never disciplined or controlled her, and you refused to allow the rest of us to do so. This is your doing.”
“Wait. Hold up a sec. Why?” Remy, who had begun pacing in circles, questioned aloud. “Why does she want the Rogue to live, Al?”
“Why, thank you, Remy. How considerate of you to ask,” Alcaeus replied tautly, aiming a baleful look in Kai’s direction. “Jussara believes we might be jumping to rash conclusions about the Rogue based on poor interpretations of the prophecies and legends.”
Without knowing anything about it, I couldn’t help but suspect Jussara was probably onto something with that hypothesis.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I listened with an open mind as they relayed much of what Lupe had previously told me about their ongoing search for the fabled Rogue—the first born of a new and errant breed of werewolf species whose rise to power would supposedly herald the extinction of the human race. They reiterated Lupe’s explanation about rogue werewolves being considered an unnatural, defective form of the species—their lawlessness viewed as having the potential to expose and endanger all other werewolves because of their unpredictable, uncontrollable behavior. Hence, they were routinely, systematically snuffed out across the globe by all werewolf packs in the name of upholding the greater good.
I had already sensed firsthand through my emerging she-wolf how keen and irrefutable the draw to belong to a pack would soon be. But I still felt it was barbaric to persecute all those who eschewed pack mentality simply for challenging the werewolf status quo. And I voiced as much.
“You must understand, Milena,” Kai said. “It’s not so unlike the way humans handle those in your society who fail to conform.”
“Um … ye-ah, it kind of is, Kai. We don’t round up and kill off all the emo kids because they won’t join in our afterschool clubs. What if they’re just young wolves testing out their independence? What if they were born into a pack of assholes? What if they were horribly mistreated or abused by their pack and they’re simply seeking a little freedom and solace for a while?”