“I just want to say a few words,” Frank begins, “before we all enjoy this wonderful feast you all worked to put together.” He pauses for effect. “It’s been a hard time for us all, without question. We’ve lost members of our family. We’ve lost our sense of security. We’ve lost … our innocence. I know you’re afraid. Frustrated. Angry. I know you all could let these feelings overwhelm you. Have you make rash decisions. Take it out on each other. Give up even. But … you haven’t. As I look across to all your faces, I see no despair. No hatred. Only strength. Love. What could have broken us apart has brought us closer together.”
He is very good at this. Even I’m getting fired up.
“They may try to tear us apart. They may try to beat us until we can’t get up. But I believe with my whole heart there is not a one of you who will not rise. Who will not continue fighting until their dying breath, not just for yourself. But for the people beside you. We are pack. We are family.” He looks square into my eyes and smiles. “And I am so very proud of you all.”
I think I blush.
“To the pack!” Tate calls, holding up his red cup.
“To the pack!” we all say.
“Then let’s stuff our faces and enjoy this beautiful Fourth of July afternoon!” Frank says.
Shante, Percy or “Pookie’s” mate, switches on the stereo. Bruce Springsteen starts playing. Can’t go wrong with The Boss. Everyone moves toward the tables setup on the lawn so we can all eat together with two smaller tables off to the side for the kids.
The majority of tents have been taken down for tonight’s event. We’re gonna have a full house. Anyone not turning furry when the full moon rises has to be inside. Linda and the kids are graciously letting me spend the night in their room as I had to give up mine. They’re so excited, Nicki even offered to let me sleep with Mr. Sprinkles, her stuffed Panda. Almost took her up on it. Haven’t been sleeping well.
Frank sits smack dab in the middle of the table much like Jesus in The Last Supper. People swarm around him, with Jason and Tate edging out the competition for the coveted seats to his left and right. I get as close to Jason as possible, four down, across from Linda and Reid. I wait to serve myself as I’ve learned never to get between werewolves and munchies. They’re like piranha, only more frenzied and with sharper teeth.
“Pass this down to Vivi,” I hear Frank say.
A second later Maureen hands me a paper plate with a veggie burger. “Thank you.”
“You did an amazing job with the children and that song,” she says. “We’re so lucky to have a professional singer in the house.”
“So glamorous,” Linda adds. “Frank once showed us a video of you singing in this club. You were so good.”
“Yes, a smart man once told me I’m downright haunting,” I say, glancing at Jason, who even now keeps his head down to avoid people’s gazes. He does steal a glance at me, but only for an instant. He’s listening.
“We should organize a concert one night,” Maureen suggests. “Tate plays the guitar.”
“I play piano,” Linda adds.
For some reason the thought of singing in front of them awakens my nerves. “I don’t—”
“Frank!” Maureen shouts. My father turns from Tate to his mother. “Your daughter’s agreed to perform at a concert for us. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“It is. I can’t wait.”
“We’ll see,” I say. I bite my burger and decide to change the subject. “So, full moon tonight. Should be interesting. Do you all look forward to it or …”
“Hell no,” Reid says, scratching his balding head.
“Do you run around? Hunt deer or something?”
“Pretty much,” Reid answers.
“It’s great to be pack,” Pookie adds. “We’re lucky. I’m just glad we ain’t gotta be caged tonight.”
“I’m not,” Katie, Reid’s wife says. “There are a million windows and doors downstairs. What’s to stop one of you from breaking in?”
“It’s never happened before tonight,” Maureen answers. “Besides we have magical wards all over the house. Nothing with intent to harm can come in as long as they’re up.”
“But how do we know they work?” Katie asks.
That is an excellent question, but I don’t want to add fuel to the paranoia fire. “From what I understand, the witch who put them up is the most powerful in America.” And is outstanding in a crisis, even shitfaced. “She’s gotta be good, right? Plus I’ve seen one work. Mason was chasing Aiden after a fight, Aiden ran inside and Mason couldn’t get through the door,” I lie. “See? They work. Nothing to worry about.”
“Oh,” Katie says with an unconvincing smile. “Good.”
“And Jason and I have already discussed offensive and defensive strategies,” I lie again. “We’ve got all the angles covered. Isn’t that right, Jason?” I shout.
Frank and Jason’s gazes whip my way. “What?” Jason asks.
“The plan for tonight. I was just telling everyone how worried you were about all of us alone in the house tonight, so you spent hours thinking up every worst-case scenario and its solution.” I turn back to Katie. “He really is a brilliant strategist.”
“We’ll get into all of that later,” Frank says. “It’s well in hand.”
“We’ll just look after one another. We’ll be fine,” I say with a reassuring smile. Katie and a few eavesdroppers grin back.
When I turn straight ahead, I notice Frank and Jason staring. Frank gives me a reverent nod, and Jason’s mouth jolts in a quick smile before his eyes dip down again. Once again, in spite of myself, a swell of pride rises. I am definitely getting addicted to them as well.
Jason lasts longer than I thought he would, almost ten minutes before whispering to Frank and rising from the table. Katie regales me with stories of finding the right tutor for Mac, not easy apparently, as he excuses himself. I wait two minutes before claiming a headache, not a total lie, and following his example. I’ve been waiting three days for this face-to-face with him. Time’s up, Blondie.
Of course he seems to have slipped through my fingers again. A quick sweep of the downstairs proves fruitless. Excedrin before continuing, I think. That and I’ve sweated off my deodorant. Not good, especially in a white sundress. I’m freshening up in my bathroom when I hear a creak like an old door opening, then heavy footsteps in the bedroom. I step out to investigate, but instead of finding one of my cute little shadows per usual, to my great pleasure I find my prey has come to me, through a secret passage no less. Jason glances from the closing panel in the wall with a rusty metal door behind it. I’m the one who should be surprised, but his mouth drops open when he sets eyes on me.
“Hi,” I say with a wide grin. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t. I just—”
“Didn’t know I was inside the house,” I finish, leaning against the doorframe. “Needed Excedrin. Is that a real secret passageway?”
“Yes. Dad was going to show it to you after lunch. I was just changing—”
“Well, show it to me now,” I say, walking over. “One less thing for him to worry about.”
“Um, okay.” He takes a step to the left. Away from me. “Press the panel. Hard.”
I do. After a click, the wall moves back, then forward a centimeter. I pull it open all the way to reveal the metal door with a keypad beside it. “What’s the code?”
“0707, then press pound.”
“My birthday,” I say as I punch it in.
“I know.”
The light flips from red to green as I hear the lock disengage. I open the door, finding a very narrow, dark, stone spiral staircase. I’m not a big person by any means, but I don’t think even I could fit in there comfortably. “Where does it go?”
“Follow me.”
Crap. This place is a claustrophobic’s
worst nightmare. I have literally had a nightmare that contained this very scenario except those walls had rows of spikes that slowly closed and skewered me like a kebab. Yeah, I need a Xanax just looking at this. Jason has no such worries. He steps into the tomb, and my throat closes up again. Show no weakness. I swallow my fear and follow.
I was right. Jason has to turn sideways and duck to walk down, with me two steps behind. The door above closes automatically, and with only one working light bulb on the wall, I can barely see the steps. After three revolutions on the stairs we reach another door with keypad on this side. “That’s Dad’s office. I programmed the same code for all.” We don’t linger. There are more stairs to descend. This tour better be close to over because I have about thirty seconds before I’m hyperventilating. My breath’s shallow now and hands are clammy. Damn it, I swear these walls grow narrower by the step. They are. I know it. I dig my fingernails into my palm to concentrate on that.
We end the tour at a dark underground tunnel that resembles a mine shaft made of stone and mortar. Jason switches on the lights, but it doesn’t help much as there’s only a bulb every thirty feet or so. “The door behind you is to the basement.”
“Where’s the tunnel, um, go?” I ask, voice quaking a little.
“Past the gate. It was built after Jeremiah Conlon turned and accidently ate his mate after he chased her down on the lawn.”
“Lovely.”
Jesus Christ, it smells like the musky earth in here, just like …
oh, fuck. With a blink, I’m transported back to that basement in Pennsylvania waiting to die in a fucking cage about as big as this tunnel. There isn’t a millimeter of me not taught and ready to strike from fear. I bunch my dress up with my sweaty hands.
“Most people know this is here, but I just altered the codes. We’ll tell everyone right before the change to avoid the mole leaking it.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
“I need to show you … are you unwell?” he asks, eyes narrowing.
“Fine. Excuse me,” I say breathlessly. I twirl from the shaft to the metal door, push in the code with my shaking finger, and rush through the millisecond it opens. No salvation here. I step into a concrete room with several cages like the one that held me with a narrow passage between them. Even the odor’s the same: salt, blood, urine, and antiseptic that fails to mask the others. I don’t know if it’s the stench or the playback of my death match, complete with stinging pain shooting through my still-healing gun wound, but bile rises.
“Vivian?” Jason asks behind me.
His hand touches my bare shoulder, and I jolt. I can’t fucking breathe. I need to get the fuck out of this room. I race out into the basement hallway with Jason a few paces behind. Even in here with more space, I can’t breathe very well. I scan the wood-paneled hallway to get my bearings and find the stairs. They’re between the freezer and laundry room, which is …
Jason’s hands gently wrap around my forearms. “Come here,” he whispers before guiding me to the bench a few feet away. He sits me down before lowering himself beside me. I should be thrilled when he uncurls my fingers and entwines his with mine, but I’m still too damn tense. “Just breathe.”
“I am breathing,” I snap. Just not well. “I’m fine.”
“You should have told me you were claustrophobic. I wouldn’t have—”
“I needed to know. It’s fine.” I squeeze his hand harder and stare down at the hardwood floor. “It just … I was suddenly back in that basement getting the shit kicked out of me again. The darkness, the smells, being trapped …” I shake my head to clear the ghosts. “I’m fine. It’s over. I’ll be fine.” God, I’m embarrassed. Almost falling apart over nothing in front of the big bad wolf killer. Real impressive, Viv. No wonder—
“It happens to me too,” he says, drawing me out of my ocean of self-pity. I look up. He’s got that damn mask of his on. “The flashbacks. It could be something someone says, a smell, a scene on TV, and I’m right back in the worst moments of my life as if I’d traveled back in time. Talking about it helps. Time too. Dad—”
“No,” I say with a grimace. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I pull my hand away. “I’m fine. See? The irrationality has passed.”
He doesn’t speak for a few seconds, then, “You don’t have to do that around me.”
“Do what?”
“Act strong when it’s left you for the moment,” he says matter-of-factly. “Even the strong fall from time to time. We all have our weak moments. If and how we pick ourselves up and handle the aftermath is all that matters. And in that, time and again, you’ve shown great strength. True strength.”
“That’s what you don’t understand. I’m not strong,” I blurt out. “I’m a lucky fuck-up. I’m scared all the time, even before all this. I’m not like you, I can’t turn lemons into lemonade, and you had a ton more lemons than I ever did. You have no idea how much I respect you for that.”
“I had help, though. People who loved me, who kept me going when a weak moment hit, who helped me up. Who knew my strength even when I didn’t. They gave me a reason to continue on. I couldn’t have done it alone.”
“You did that for me, you know? In Pennsylvania. You kept me going. You kept me fighting. I think … I was more afraid of you dying than me. I had to get to you. Save you. You gave me strength.”
“You are not giving yourself enough credit. You never do.”
“I give credit where it’s due.” I pause. “You’re my hero, Jason Dahl.”
“Please stop,” he says quietly, once again gazing down at his lap.
I fall back against the wall and narrow my eyes. “Why do you always do that?”
“What?”
“Just completely shut down and pull away from me whenever I try to say or do something nice? Do you think I’m lying? Trying to trick you? Find a weakness and exploit it?”
“No,” he says, eyes still deflected.
“Then why? Stop shutting me out. You don’t get to say wonderful things about me one second, then run off and reject me the next. I’m getting fucking whiplash.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.”
“Then stop it.”
“You don’t …” He stares at me, his mouth open like he wants to continue, but gazes down again in defeat.
“I don’t understand?” I finish for him. “You’re right. I haven’t understood since you freaked out seconds after we made love. Do you have any idea how much that hurt me? That you were disgusted by me?”
“I wasn’t,” he assures me. “I was disgusted by me.”
“Why? Because Frank ordered you not to be with me like Adam and Mona? Because according to paperwork, we’re siblings? That’s white noise, Jason. This is about you and me. Nothing else matters.”
His intense eyes finally leap up to my face. “But it does,” he almost hisses. “We don’t exist in a vacuum, Vivian. I am pack. I am loup-garou. That will never change. And you … you do not belong. There is a reason your father kept you away from this world. We’re monsters. Danger surrounds us at all times, and not just from outside these walls.”
“Cat’s kind of out of the bag on that one, Blondie. I am officially Frank Dahl, super-werewolf’s, daughter. And, with maybe one exception, there are no monsters in this group, yourself included.” Jason gazes back down at this hands. He wants to leave. I feel the desire to flee wafting off him in waves. “That’s not the real reason, is it?” The muscles in his face tighten. “So, what is?”
I don’t get an answer. He opts for option B, standing to flee again. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I have things to do. Excuse me.” Sure enough, he turns and starts toward the laundry room. I really, really hate when he does that.
Not this time. I spring up as I call, “Don’t you walk away from me, Jason Dahl.”
I run right in front of him j
ust as he reaches the stairs, blocking him. “Vivian, please move.”
“Not happening. Even if you move me, I will just keep chasing you.”
This time he stares me dead in the eyes. “Why?” he asks, voice as blank as those eyes.
“Why what?”
“Why would you continue chasing me when I don’t wish you to?”
“What?”
“And why did you volunteer to watch the children?”
“To help out. Why else—”
“And why did you offer to help me the other day on the beach? The real reason?”
“I told you. What is—”
“It had nothing to do with us having to spend time together?”
“That was … a bonus. So what? The children have fun, people realize you’re secretly a teddy bear, I am not seeing the problem.”
He stares at me with such disappointment I want to run back into that tunnel—even that is preferable to his gaze. “The pack comes first. You give before you get. If someone is starving, you give them as much as you can spare, and you do it because it’s the right thing. Not because you get something out of it. The needs of the many come before the needs of you. That is love. That is pack.”
It takes a second for the words to sink in but it finally dawns on me. He thinks I’m selfish. That I’m incapable of thinking of others unless it serves me. The thing is, he’s not wrong. It’s one of the few things I’ve prided myself on, the ability to take care of myself because no one else would. I always did my damnedest not to screw people over if I could help it, but I tried harder to make sure they didn’t screw me over.
“Well, I’m sorry I don’t live up to your impossible standards of nobility, Sir Lancelot. But unlike you, I didn’t have a safety net. No one before you lifted a finger to help me. No one ever put me first. I had to be selfish out of necessity. To survive. And after twenty-nine years, it is a damn hard habit to break. But goddamn it, I’m trying. Doesn’t that count for something? And despite one little slip, nothing I’ve done has hurt anyone.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, and the fact you can’t even see that proves my point. What you do, what you say, impacts others. Sometimes you can even be a damn wrecking ball, Vivian. You leave gaping holes in a person’s life. It may not be intentional, you may even believe you’re doing the right thing, but the damage still remains when you leave. You, of all people, should know that because you are proof of that aftermath. And there will be an aftermath. You will leave. I’m just trying to minimize the damage. So, I’ll ask again: please leave me alone,” he pleads. “Please.”
Werewolf Sings the Blues Page 24