Grave Origins

by Lori Drake

  “I’ll drink to that,” Max said, and this time he did drink. After, he poured a little out for the fallen. “Shit, I just realized something.”

  “What?”

  Max grimaced and raised the bottle again for one more swig. “I think I just became Alpha.”

  Snickering, Chris left them there and wandered back into the house to check in. His body still lay on the table, and Ben was still bent over his shoulder, muttering about not having the proper tools as he struggled to remove the bullet lodged amongst the bone and tissue with a pair of standard bathroom tweezers.

  Chris found himself rubbing his shoulder in response to the memory of the pain he’d experienced before making his escape. Shivering, he wandered back out of the dining room and followed quiet voices into the living room. Joey was in there now, with the other women. But what really caught Chris’s attention was the ghostly presence they were unaware of.

  Meghan hovered behind the couch, hungry eyes glued to her daughter.

  “She’s a good kid,” Chris said.

  The ghost’s focus snapped to him. Fire flared in her eyes.

  Chris raised his hands. “Whoa, there. I’m a friendly spirit, I swear.”

  She tilted her head, silent but intent.

  “She’s strong,” Chris said. “Capable. More importantly, she’s safe. Her brother, too. They have a pack to look out for them. It’s over, Meghan. Be at peace.”

  He didn’t know if those words were the right ones, but they felt right to him. Her eyes lingered on him a moment more, then turned back to Maria. A faint smile curved her spectral lips, and then she was gone.

  Had she crossed over? He had no way of knowing, but he’d expected there to be a light show or something. Then again, real life was nothing like movies. His own lycanthropy was testament to that.

  “Got it!” Ben exclaimed from the next room.

  Chris was back in his body by the time Joey reached his side.

  “There you are,” Joey said, smiling as she folded his hand in hers.

  His shoulder still hurt like hell, but at least Ben was finished doing exploratory surgery. He’d moved on to packing the wound and applying a pressure bandage, which wasn’t pleasant, but at least was a few notches on the dial down from where the pain had been when Chris had slipped away.

  “Went for a walk,” Chris murmured.

  “Sure ya did,” Ben said. “It’s not girly to pass out, you know.”

  Less than an hour later, the whole pack—minus Gerald—assembled to see them off. Someone had fetched their cars from where they’d left them down the road, so they didn’t have to walk all the way out to them. Thoughtful.

  “Thanks again for the shirt,” Chris said, shaking Max’s hand awkwardly with his left hand. His right arm was in a makeshift sling one of the ladies had rigged out of a tablecloth. Resourceful.

  Max smiled. “No problem. Seemed like the least I could do, considering you got shot in our territory.”

  “And you always believe in doing the very least you can do?” Chris chuckled as Max’s brow furrowed. “Never mind. Inside joke.”

  “Must be pretty inside,” Joey said. “Even I don’t get it.”

  Chris squeezed her hand. “I’ll explain on the way home. Gotta keep you awake somehow.”

  “I guess that means I’m driving Joey’s car again,” Ben said.

  “Shotgun!” Maria called, and made a beeline for said car.

  Ben fist-bumped Max before turning to follow Maria. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  As Chris drew Joey in the direction of his car, one of the Wenatchee wolves broke rank and hurried toward them. It was Heidi.

  “A little something for the road,” she said, pressing a small bundle wrapped in a kitchen towel into Joey’s hands.

  Joey removed her hand from Chris’s to wrap Heidi in a hug. The two exchanged quiet words before Joey rejoined Chris and they headed for the car.

  “Dare I ask?” he said.

  “Girl stuff,” Joey replied.

  “Say no more.”

  She gave him a one-armed hug as they walked. “Let’s go home.”

  28

  Chris woke in his own bed the next morning with Joey curled against his side. They’d managed to get home before sunrise, but not by much. A glance at the bedside clock told him it was only eight-thirty, so he wasn’t sure what had woken him so early until the knock on the door sounded again.

  Joey stirred beside him. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled.

  Chris gently extracted himself, grimacing at the lingering ache in his shoulder. The bandage had come off when they got home, and a quick glance told him that the flesh was knitted. However, the lingering pain meant the bones within weren’t quite set. He kept his arm close to his side as he crossed to the door and opened it to find Lucy in the hall, raising her fist to knock again.

  “I’m up, I’m up. What’s so important?”

  Lucy’s fair complexion was a shade paler than usual. “The cops are here again.”

  “Again? What do they want now?” Chris rubbed his face, then scrubbed his fingers through his hair.

  “They have a warrant,” she said, biting her lip.

  “Unless they need to search my bedroom, I fail to see why that’s worth waking me up.”

  “Not that kind of warrant. An arrest warrant.”

  Her words were like a shock of water to his senses. “For who?”

  She shifted her weight between her feet, worry plain in her eyes. “You.”

  “I’ll be right down.” Chris was surprised by the calm in his own voice as he closed the door. His mind raced. An arrest warrant. For him. What on earth had they found? He hastened to the bed and shook Joey gently. “Wake up, baby.”

  “Mrfgle.” Her eyes opened slowly to squint up at him. “What?”

  “I’m about to be arrested.”

  Joey sat straight up, eyes wide. “What?”

  He took her face between his hands, gritting his teeth through the twinge of pain it sparked in his shoulder. “Listen carefully. Jon had me sign over general power of attorney to you when we got a hint that this could happen. Legally, you have authority to do whatever you need to do in my name. Pay bills, access my accounts, anything. The papers are in the safe. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. “I’ll call Jon and tell him to get his ass to the police station, pronto.”

  He smiled. “That’s my girl.” Bending, he pressed his lips to hers, intending it to be brief, but with them, it rarely was. She curled fingers behind his neck and held him in the kiss for a long moment, but for once, it failed to stir his blood. He was too scared. Arrested! He’d never been arrested before.

  Not in his own body, anyway.

  Chris headed downstairs after donning a fresh pair of boxer briefs and some clothes, walking the line between taking his time and not keeping the arresting officer waiting too long. As he descended the stairs with Joey two steps behind him, he found Detective Mullins standing in the living room, with a uniformed officer hanging back by the front door. A visibly anxious Lucy perched on the arm of the sofa. Chris thanked his lucky stars that no one else was around to see their Alpha led off in handcuffs.

  Mullins was all business, his face a stoic mask belied by the sparkle in his eyes. In a town the size of Granite Falls, a murder case was a big deal. This arrest could go a long way to advancing the detective’s career.

  Joey darted around Chris at the foot of the stairs and marched up to Detective Mullins. “I hear you have a warrant. Let’s see it.”

  Mullins held the folded piece of paper out in silence. Joey snatched it from him and unfolded it, scanning the printed page as if she might be able to find some problem with it.

  Chris approached and put a hand on her shoulder. “Everything in order?”

  “Yeah.” Joey huffed and re-folded the paper, then slapped it against Mullins’s chest. “Don’t look so smug. You’re making a huge mistake. You’ll see.”

  Mullins tilted his head.
“That is to the court to decide, ma’am. Mr. Martin, you’re under arrest for the murder of Brandon Doyle. You have the right to remain silent…”

  As the detective informed Chris of his rights and the uniformed officer came forward to slap the cuffs on his wrists, Chris fought to keep the fear from his face. He couldn’t escape the way it gnawed at his stomach, however. He wanted to argue his innocence, to demand what evidence Mullins had, but he knew better than to speak without Jon being present. Silence was his best defense at the moment, so he exercised it.

  When Mullins finished reading him his rights, the cops led him outside, where they were joined by a second uniformed officer who walked around a corner of the house. It took Chris a moment to realize they’d stationed someone at the back door, in case he’d tried to run. Run. Now that was an option he’d never even considered. Hell, he could’ve shifted into a wolf and simply “not been home.”

  A chuckle escaped Chris, and Mullins eyed him. “Something funny?”

  “No, sir. Not at all.”

  The worst part of being arrested, as it turned out, wasn’t the humiliation of being read his rights, handcuffed in front of his fiancée, or even walked out of his home to a waiting police car. No, the worst part was the ride to the police station with his hands still cuffed behind him. His shoulder ached the whole way there, and he felt every bump and pothole along the way on a fundamental level.

  Processing didn’t take long, fortunately, and it was only about an hour after he was rudely awakened that he was put in a cell and freed from the cuffs. He still didn’t know what evidence Mullins had found. Hopefully he’d find that out once Jon was on the scene. For now, Chris did the only thing he could. He lay down on the hard metal bench in his cell, stared at the ceiling, and hoped his brother could get him out of this mess. Somehow.

  At some point, sleep towed him under again. He woke an indeterminable time later from an unsettling dream about imprisonment and moon madness to the sound of a buzzer followed by the cell door opening.

  “Martin. You’re free to go.”

  “I am?” Chris said, sitting up. Then realized he probably shouldn’t sound so surprised. “I mean, of course I am.” He stood and headed for the door.

  The cop handed him an envelope containing his personal effects and led him back through the station, directing Chris to park it on a bench against a wall while he grabbed a tablet and took care of the paperwork.

  Chris found a clock on the wall. It was just after one p.m. He’d been in custody less than six hours. Ten minutes later, he stepped out into the lobby, a free man.

  Jon and Joey were waiting. The latter rushed him, flinging her arms around him and squeezing tightly. Chris winced, but made no protest, just curled his arms around her in return.

  “It’s okay. I’m fine,” he said. “I even got some more sleep.”

  Meanwhile, he met Jon’s eyes over the top of her head. His brother wore a grim expression.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Colt turned himself in,” Jon said, in his formal lawyer voice. “He confessed to everything and gave up the location of Kate’s body.”

  Chris blinked. The room started to spin. “I either need to sit down or throw up.”

  Jon put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Pull yourself together, little brother. We should go. You can sit in the car.”

  “Come on, love. One foot in front of the other.” Joey guided him toward the exit, though he needed little coaxing. Right now, the farther he got from the police station, the better.

  The fresh air did wonders for his scattered mental state. He inhaled deeply as they exited the facility and his shoulders relaxed somewhat. He was still concerned for Colt but settled for being grateful for the stay of execution—so to speak.

  His bolstered mood took a nosedive when he saw who was waiting for them across the parking lot, leaning against a Quinault Tribal Police cruiser.

  Leta.

  Chris lurched away from Joey’s supporting arm and stalked toward Kate’s daughter.

  “I strongly advise you don’t—”

  “Put a sock in it, Jon.” Chris bunched his hands into fists, but he forced himself to halt several feet shy of punching distance. His eyes bored into Leta’s. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, showing up here now.”

  She met his eyes briefly, then flinched and lowered her eyes. “I wanted to apologize.”

  “I’m listening.” He barely managed not to growl the words. His wolf was riled up, in part from his emotions and part from being cooped up in the cell, worried he might not get to run again.

  “I misjudged you, and I’m sorry.” The twist of her lips as she said the words spoke volumes. She didn’t like apologizing and, he suspected, even less to outsiders. “I thought you were just being obstinate. Now I know better. You were protecting your people, which I understand.”

  “Great. Now that you’ve gotten that off your chest, I’ve got to figure out how to keep one of those people from going to pound-me-in-the-ass prison.” He turned and stalked toward the car, shaking his head.

  “I think Colt has more to worry about than dropping the soap,” Joey murmured as she ghosted along beside him.

  “We’ll figure something out,” Chris replied, hoping he sounded more confident than he was. “We always do.”

  29

  Joey rang Lucas’s bell promptly at eleven p.m., two days later. Her packs were arrayed behind her, while Chris and Sam once more flanked her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. The trip to Wenatchee had proved quite distracting indeed, as had the unexpected events they came home to. But wild horses wouldn’t make her miss this appointment.

  Lucas opened the door almost a full minute later. By then, Joey was gnashing her teeth and preparing some choice words for him if he accused her of being late and forfeiting her opportunity to challenge him.

  “Ah, there you are. Wasn’t sure you’d make it. Heard you’d been… busy.” His eyes flicked behind her to the arrayed wolves. “Still minus one, I see.”

  Joey didn’t waste any more time. “Lucas Grant, I challenge you.”

  He smiled and opened the door wider. “Come on in. I figure we’ll want to take care of this out back.”

  Eyeing him, Joey nodded and crossed the threshold, stepping into the house. It was the first time she’d been inside it in months, and she saw little evidence of the changes she’d heard Lucas was making from the foyer. The others filed in behind her, filling the space with supportive energy. Win or lose, no one could say she had no support. Lucas had, what, Blake and Nicole? But support alone wouldn’t win this fight. That was on her.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Joey said, leading the way through the foyer and past the stairs to the back door.

  Her eyes swept the familiar yard as she exited on the other side of the house. There were no chairs this time, no fidgety relatives to look on. Blake and Nicole sat on the edge of the big fountain on the outskirts of the courtyard. They rose as Joey and her people spilled out the back door.

  Lucas was the last to file out. The crowd parted for him, and he whipped his shirt off as soon as he cleared it, tossing it carelessly on the ground. “Last chance to back down, Grant.”

  Joey flicked her eyes over the muscular chest and arms on display. She wasn’t the only one who’d been preparing for this, apparently. Lucas had been working out, his musculature better defined than it had been the last time she’d seen him shirtless.

  Smirking, she peeled off her own shirt and sports bra in one smooth motion. “Quit stalling.”

  The two combatants finished undressing and moved to the clearing where the challenge would take place. Joey glanced around but saw no lingering sign of the previous combat. Even the rock that Chris had cracked his head on was gone. A pity; she might’ve liked to crack Lucas’s head against it if she could manage.

  In a somewhat eerie mirror to the challenge Chris had faced on her behalf, her father once more stepped forward to officiate.

  �
�The challenge has been made and accepted,” Reginald said. “The challenge begins on my mark, and ends when the first combatant yields or resumes human form.”

  Joey locked eyes with Lucas and let her wolf come out to play a little bit. Lucas smirked, but his wolf rose behind his eyes, answering her silent challenge.

  “Alpha, are you ready?” Reginald asked.

  “Yeah,” Lucas said.

  “Finally,” Joey muttered.

  Reginald cleared his throat and gave Joey a pointed look. “Challenger, are you ready?”

  “I was ready a week ago. On with the show.” Joey bounced on the balls of her feet a little, shifting her weight from side to side.

  Reginald paused, then began the count. “Three… two… one… Mark.”

  Lucas dropped to his knees, but Joey leaped at him and shifted in midair. His eyes widened, and understandably so. Few had such fine control over their wolves to accomplish such a feat. Joey had done it the first time on the night Madrigal’s witches had come after Emma. She’d spent the last month practicing, drilling for this moment. Lucas was bigger. Stronger. She had to be smarter, and she had to keep him off his game if she was going to beat him.

  He rolled out of the way, but she landed lightly on her paws and charged him, snapping at his throat. He threw up an arm, and her jaws clamped on his forearm, biting into flesh and bone. Blood welled between her teeth, and she worried at the bone gleefully while Lucas cried out in pain. First blood was hers, and it was sweet.

  “She’s cheating! He hasn’t even shifted yet!” Nicole shouted.

  “The challenge started on my mark,” Reginald said. “He—or she—who shifts first always has the advantage.”

  “This is bullshit,” Nicole said. Someone hushed her.

  Meanwhile, Lucas balled up a fist and sank it into Joey’s stomach while she chewed on his arm. The breath rushed out of her lungs and she lost her grip. Lucas rolled away before she could bite him again, ending in a three-point crouch with no weight on his injured arm. The air around him began to shimmer as he called on his wolf.