Hunter's Trail (A Scarlett Bernard Novel)
Page 35
I stared at him. I admit—my heart leapt at the thought of taking Shadow. She would be a lot of work, both because of her size and because we had no idea how socialized she was, really. But I loved her already.
On the other hand, I wasn’t a child anymore, and I wasn’t stupid. “Of course, it doesn’t hurt that it keeps your werewolves in line too. If I have her, and I work for you, that makes her a tool in your toolbox, doesn’t it? What better way to restore faith in you as a leader than a scary new weapon?”
Will’s face hardened. “No,” he allowed. “It doesn’t hurt. But let’s not forget how my pack became unstable in the first place.”
I winced. Touché.
“So what do you say, Scarlett?” Dashiell asked pleasantly. “Is that arrangement acceptable?”
They looked at me, both a little smug, waiting for my response.
I patted Shadow one more time and sat up in my chair. “Guys, you’ve seen The Wizard of Oz, right?”
Looking confused, Will nodded, and Dashiell said a short, “Yes.”
I had a moment of stark curiosity where I wanted to ask him if he’d been to the original theatrical run, but I managed to stay on topic. “At the end of the movie, Dorothy realizes that she had what she wanted all along—but she had to learn that for herself. And see, I always thought that was total bullshit. Why wouldn’t Glinda just tell her that the shoes would take her home the minute they appeared on her feet? Why go through all of that, just to realize the value of what you had?” I looked Dashiell and Will in the eyes. “But I’m coming around on that.”
Dashiell sat there motionless—vampires have all the time in the world, literally—but Will leaned forward. “What are you saying, Scarlett?” he asked impatiently.
“I’m saying that I have value,” I said flatly. “And I know it now.”
An amused glint appeared in Dashiell’s eye. “You’re asking for a raise?” he said disdainfully. “All right. I suppose we could increase your pay slightly.”
“No. Well, yes, a raise would be nice, but that’s not what I’m asking for,” I replied. “You want me to keep hiding messes for you, fine. You want me to take in the bargest, fine. But I’ve put my life on the line for you three times in as many months, and I want to be a goddamned partner.”
Even Dashiell’s eyes widened at that, and I felt a little twist of satisfaction. “What exactly does that mean?” Will asked.
“No more cleaning lady,” I said firmly. “When you make big decisions together, I want to be there. I want health insurance and a small team I can work with to make sure we don’t have any oversights. Oh, and you’re paying for my knee surgery,” I added to Dashiell. “Call it a signing bonus.”
Will stirred in his seat, but my eyes were on the vampire.
“We do not accept demands,” he said coldly. “What’s to stop me from killing your bright young brother instead?”
I’d been expecting that, and I forced myself to shrug, keeping my face as neutral as I could. “You could do that,” I allowed. “It sure would show me who was boss. But if you touch Jack, if you send anything his way besides the occasional ‘Keep up the good work, buddy,’ you will never hear from me again,” I said flatly. “You will lose me as an asset. I will go to another city and declare loyalty to another cardinal vampire, or maybe another alpha werewolf, and I will use everything you taught me for someone else’s gain.”
“We could kill you,” Will pointed out, but in a neutral, “devil’s advocate” kind of way. “And we’ve got Corry now.”
“You could do that too.” I shrugged again. “Why not? My life isn’t worth much. But if anything happens to me, I have arranged for Corry to leave LA and offer loyalty to another city too. We can do this the hard way, guys,” I said calmly. “Or we make a few adjustments, keep the peace, and you can let me help you.”
Will and Dashiell exchanged an unreadable look. “Give us a moment,” Dashiell said carelessly.
“Of course,” I responded. “I’ll take Shadow outside. But,” I added boldly, “do me a favor and conference in Kirsten. She deserves a say in this too.” And I limped out of the room, with as much dignity as I could manage.
Shadow went slowly out to the yard with me, being patient with my cane. She pooped on the cobblestone driveway, right in front of one of Dashiell’s cars, and looked up at me guiltily. “Good girl,” I told her.
When we got back inside, Dashiell looked grim. He pointed to the chair, and I braced myself for a smackdown, possibly physical. But he said, in a cold voice, “Fine. We agree to the partnership, the health insurance, and the bonus for your knee. But no team. Instead, you’ll take Corry on as your official apprentice, and the two of you are a package deal.”
I took a deep breath. It still felt wrong, making decisions for someone else. But Corry had asked to be a part of the Old World, and helping the werewolves last night had seemed almost . . . good for her. “She gets paid $10 an hour, and works nights and weekends only,” I negotiated. “And when she turns eighteen, she gets to decide whether to keep working for you or not. If she says no, you let her go with your blessing.”
Dashiell arched an eyebrow. “If we’re going to pay her, you won’t get a raise.”
“I can live with that,” I said firmly, looking him in the eye. “But if Corry’s going to work for you, her mother needs to be able to know about the Old World.”
And to my eternal surprise, Dashiell did something I’d never seen from him: he full-on grinned at me, a natural unguarded smile. If I hadn’t known better, I’d say he was . . . proud of me. “Sounds like we have a deal,” he said levelly.
And we did.
Epilogue
Tuesday. Moving day.
Shadow trotted at my heels as I limped around Molly’s house collecting my things. There were a lot more of them than I remembered, and it was a little sad, having to tear my belongings away from their homes in the kitchen drawers and on the movie shelf. Molly had mysteriously procured a bunch of boxes from somewhere and left them out for me. I went around the house and filled them up, leaving them where they sat so Eli could come carry them out to his truck when he arrived in a few hours. I had hoped Molly herself would wake up to make an appearance, but although I kept popping into range of her, she never emerged from her room. I wasn’t sure if I had fully burned that bridge, but it did seem to need some repair.
At ten thirty, the doorbell rang, and Shadow went into an immediate stalking pose. “No, Shadow,” I cautioned. “First we see who it is, then we eat them.” She tilted her head at me in a classic “I know you’re trying to communicate, but I’m a dog” pose, and I laughed and limped toward the door.
I opened the door. It was Jesse. Wearing, of all things, an immaculate suit and tie. “Um, hey,” I offered. “I didn’t expect to see you.” We hadn’t spoken since the night of the full moon.
I realized, with a pang of sorrow, that I had missed him.
“It’s Tuesday,” Jesse reminded me, hands in his pockets. “I promised to take you to see the surgeon.”
“Oh. Right,” I said lamely. I’d forgotten the appointment. “I didn’t think you were still gonna . . .”
Jesse shrugged. “I swore on my honor,” he said simply. “And I’d like to keep whatever I have left.”
I eyed his clothes. “Is this a particularly fancy doctor, or are you also planning to tell me about Jesus my Lord and Savior?”
He smoothed down the tie self-consciously. “I have an interview later today. Didn’t know if I’d have time to stop and change.” I opened my mouth to ask if the interview was for Homicide Special, but he gave me a tiny head shake and said, “Get your coat, we need to go.”
I put Shadow in the megacrate Dashiell had sent me and got my jacket. When I returned to the door, Jesse was staring at the half-packed boxes. “I heard Eli was back. You moving in with him?” he asked, his voice detached.
“Just for a bit, until I can find a new place. One that allows really big dogs.”
“Are you referring to Shadow or Eli?” he asked innocently.
I swatted him on the arm, and Jesse smiled faintly. “He really loves you, doesn’t he?” There was sadness in his voice, and bitterness, and pain.
I looked up at him. “There are different kinds of love,” I said quietly. “His is the kind I need right now.”
Jesse nodded silently, stepping aside so I could make it through the doorway. I started to scoot past him, but impulsively stopped, brushing dust off on the back of my jeans. I met his eyes and held out my hand. “Friends?” I asked.
He shook my hand, a ghost of a smile on his beautiful face. “Partners, dummy,” he corrected. “Come on, I’ll race you to the car.”
Acknowledgments
Hunter’s Trail has been my most ambitious project to date, and it would never have come together without quite a few helping hands. Thank you to Tracy Tong, who didn’t have to handle as many fashion questions this time around, but who did suggest that Griffith Park might be a good location for a showdown, and to the endlessly talented Elizabeth Kraft, who is as good at beta reading as she is at bookmark design (which is really, really good). And a big thank-you, as always, to my entire family—both the huge one I was born into, and the one I made for myself—for all your support, encouragement, and interest.
My deepest thanks also go to Dr. Adrian Treves from the University of Wisconsin, who was willing to entertain any number of my bizarre questions about wolves. His generosity made this book better, and any misrepresentations of real wolf behavior are my own creative decisions, and not a result of his excellent advice.
Thank you to the team at 47North, who were as patient and accommodating as ever, and a very special, quite enormous thank-you to my fellow 47North authors, whom I leaned on many times when I needed help or advice, or to just rant a little when I got stuck. You guys have truly made this process into a pleasure.
Speaking of social media, I also want to thank those of you who e-mailed, messaged, or tweeted me to ask about Hunter’s Trail and tell me you like the series. You guys mean the world to me. My thanks to the people who took time out of your lives to post reviews—good or bad—for the books, and to spread the word when you enjoyed them. Without you guys, I wouldn’t be able to keep doing this. I am so honored that my books are in your lives.
For more information about me, adorable photos of the real-life Max, sound tracks for all three novels, and much more, please visit my website at www.MelissaFOlson.com.
About the Author
Photo © 2013 Elizabeth Kraft
Melissa F. Olson was born and raised in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, and studied film and literature at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles. After graduation, and a brief stint bouncing around the Hollywood studio system, Melissa moved to Madison, Wisconsin, where she eventually acquired a master’s degree from the University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee, a husband, a mortgage, two kids, and two comically oversized dogs—not at all in that order. She is the author of Dead Spots, Trail of Dead, and the short story “Sell-By Date.”
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication Page
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author