by Fel Fern
What if Zane knew something about his cousin? Zane was scared all the time. That was what he got from the other Esper. Daryl always attributed that to Zane’s fear of the paranormal, but what if there was something more to that? He swallowed, not wishing to entertain the notion Zane might have lied to him, to them all. What if Zane lied for his cousin? If placed in the same position, Daryl saw himself covering up for his brother, too.
“What about Sylvia?” he asked.
“We’ll take her with us,” Santino decided. “Deacon won’t complain, since I’ll be shadowing you anyway, and I don’t like sitting idly around. Come on.”
Chapter Fourteen
Something doesn’t feel right, Sabine said in Deacon’s mind.
Studying the scene in front of them, Deacon agreed. He barely kept his temper leashed, allowing Max to pull Walt aside to question him. Deacon bared his teeth as Walt began to make gestures with his hands again, words incomprehensible. It took most of his self-control to let his enforcer do the work and instead of ripping out Walt’s throat.
The gun had been pried from Walt’s hands by Joe earlier, and the broken Esper didn’t put up much of a fight. Deacon could still scent them on the road, their recent visitors, and they left in a hurry, not bothering to hide the tire tracks.
The air smelled faintly of that pungent scent that surrounded most Discipline Squad members, as if death clung to those humans who killed paranormals and those they considered non-humans on a regular basis.
Three of his enforcers were here. Perhaps too much precaution, but Deacon hadn’t received any reports from other pack members stationed around their territory, and neither had their hawk allies. Did he miss a vital clue, or perhaps he’d been overthinking matters?
It wasn’t the first time, but an Alpha didn’t have the luxury of second-guessing himself.
Check again if Joe and I missed anything, Deacon told Sabine. She separated from his side and began scenting the road again. She might not be as powerful as Santino when it came to a battle of pure strength, but she certainly was his best tracker. When it came to retrieving rogues or other paranormals on the road, Deacon always sent her out, knowing she’d return with results.
Deacon didn’t bother turning back to human form, more comfortable in the skin of his wolf on the border road. A shifter still remained at his best in animal form. Besides, Max and Joe remained in human form. Joe continued his questioning, his voice calm, remaining easy-going, but Deacon could sense his enforcer getting frustrated. Max remained on the lookout, hand on his rifle.
A hawk shifter flew out of the trees, landed on the ground, and changed back to human. Deacon recognized Tobias, the hawk king’s second-in-command.
“Deacon, the hawks on duty earlier didn’t notice anything odd, just a nondescript van driving away. They thought it was just a couple of outsiders who saw the ‘no trespassing’ signs and thought nothing of it. I’m sorry.” Tobias sounded apologetic.
His wolf paced restlessly inside of him, pissed, but he couldn’t direct his anger at the hawks, their most valuable ally. They weren’t to blame. Realizing Tobias warily looked at him, Deacon realized he’d been snarling. He cut it out and changed back to human.
“When did their shift change?” Deacon asked after changing forms to converse.
“2:10.”
The wolves under Joe’s team had been in charge of watching this sector, he remembered. Each of his enforcers led their own team of pack soldiers, save Isabella, currently on maternity leave. No, Joe would never make a mistake, and all of the men and women under Joe were senior soldiers, too.
Joe returned to him, having tied Walt’s hands with rope. Strange the Esper didn’t fight or attempt to get loose.
“Alpha, I can’t get anything out of him,” Joe said apologetically.
In moments, he had a hand around the broken Esper’s throat. Wide-eyed, Walt choked and made gasping noises as Deacon squeezed his windpipe. It would be so easy for him to wring the life out of this man, end his miserable existence. If Deacon did that, though, they wouldn’t have any tangible answers.
Earlier, Santino told him that he took Sylvia and Daryl to town to question Zane. Deacon didn’t like that, either, but by now, he should trust both Santino, who was like the brother he never had, and his mate. Daryl had proven to him numerous times he wasn’t helpless or weak.
Daryl even worked doubly hard on the training mat, eager to become physically stronger despite Deacon telling him to slow down.
Sabine appeared from the trees again, holding a scrap of green cloth between her jaws. Deacon, I picked up another scent that someone made sure to hide.
The hawks would have reported an intruder on our lands, he told her.
He released Walt.
She leveled her silver gaze on him. What if the hawks saw him and thought he was harmless because we gave him guest rights?
“Fuck.” Deacon thought of the recent outsiders he let into Devil Hills and tried to picture which one could have made contact with the Discipline Squad.
It couldn’t possibly be the Baxters, because the family had been too busy preparing for the birth of Linda’s child. Most of the time, they were sighted at the clinic, and he had assigned wolves to them.
Deacon was capable of only saying one name. “Zane.”
Max frowned and Joe joined them. “My team’s in charge of keeping an eye on Zane. He has shown no suspicious movements, but my wolves don’t approach or talk to him much. Says he smells too much of fear, and none of the Espers in our community are like that.”
“Only Daryl talks to him,” Deacon said with clipped tones.
They left Zane alone, thinking the young man had grown up terrified of shifters, giving Zane time to change his opinion about them and vice versa. Deacon had written Zane off, because Zane announced he would be taking Walt with him and leaving the community after their thirty-day guest period passed. Thinking back, Sabine did warn him something felt off about Zane, too, but they’d focused all their attention on Walt instead.
For a moment, Deacon couldn’t think past his rage.
That little rat had wormed his way into his home, pretended Walt had been the one to watch out for.
“Are you certain it’s him?” Tobias asked.
I’ve studied Walt when I can over the past few days. His mind is too shattered. It’s unlikely he’s capable of communicating with the humans, let alone coming up with any sort of cunning plan. He’s bait, Sabine said in his head.
She voiced out the same thoughts that Deacon harbored.
Warn Santino about Zane, tell him to keep Daryl away from that traitor, Deacon told Sabine. He could have reached out for Santino’s mind, but he was too angry, too emotional. Since they were siblings, it would be easier for her to reach out to her brother, and besides, he needed to take charge. His two enforcers and Tobias waited for his next orders.
“We can’t take risks. If I’m wrong, I’ll apologize later. Tobias, tell your people to continue watching this strip of road. Joe, remain here with Tobias and tell your team to be on the lookout, too. Max, take Walt back to town.”
Sabine, we’re returning to town, he told her, changing back to wolf and heading for the trees, to the fastest path that would lead him back to his mate. Fuck, but he had a bad feeling about this.
* * * *
Feeling a tug from the mate bond connecting him to his werewolf mate, Daryl paused from his conversation with Zane. He sensed urgency and rage from Deacon’s end. Intense emotions rode Deacon’s wolf right now, and combined with the usual dose fear coming off from Zane, Daryl felt a little overwhelmed.
Daryl remembered the advice from Bob, the older empath who became his mentor when he moved into town. He breathed in and out, focused on pushing out the emotions he’d been getting from the others. Bob mentioned that sometimes, the out-pouring of feelings coming from others might prove too much, so it was best to have some breathing room and shut down some of his abilities.
Daryl had
been busy over the past few weeks going around the pack and seeing how he could fit into his new role that he hadn’t been able to help out Bob at his clinic in town. Once things calmed down, Daryl would ask for Bob’s advice about his evolving powers. His empathic abilities had never been this strong before.
Controlling his breathing didn’t work out as well as Daryl thought. Since mating Deacon, his abilities had grown so much that he could almost pick out what everyone in the diner felt. News of Walt had spread by now, and most of the folks there had been worried, some angered. Not all of the paranormals in town had been happy with Deacon’s decision to let the Baxters, Zane, and Walt into their territory.
While he had a feeling the wolf pack would ultimately allow the Baxters to stay here indefinitely, the same wouldn’t apply for Zane and Walt. Maybe it was for the best. Sensing worry intermingling with fear from Zane, he realized the other Esper might just be better off somewhere else, a community with a smaller percentage of paranormals.
At first, Daryl had defended Zane, thought the Esper needed more time to adjust to his environment, but he also understood that change wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. If Zane truly wanted to make Devil Hills his new home, he would have done what the Baxters did, find jobs, see how they could contribute to the running of the community.
“Hey, you feeling all right? You look pale,” Zane said next to him. The other Esper, he noticed, hardly touched his pie and cake.
The anxiety coming from Zane intensified. Daryl sucked in a breath. The pressure in his head worsened, a migraine. Daryl rubbed at his forehead. He needed to lock down on his abilities, but he had a hard time focusing. He couldn’t even remember what Zane and he had been talking about.
They were seated in one of the town’s diners, but Zane had looked less happy seeing Santino with him when they entered the place. Santino gave them a little privacy as Daryl requested but hovered near the dessert display area while Sylvia picked out her dessert. No matter how anyone looked at it, there was no denying Santino looked like a beautiful predator in human skin.
Shit. Daryl must have picked up that emotion from one of the single shifters in the diner who had a crush on Santino. Santino met his gaze, brows furrowed, silent question in his eyes. Daryl shook his head. The last thing they needed was for Zane to be spooked.
“I need to splash some water on my face,” he grumbled to Zane, shakily rising from his seat.
“Come back soon, okay? I don’t like being left alone in a public place with these monsters,” Zane muttered, scratching at his arms.
His skin pricked at those words. Daryl usually didn’t have a temper, but he was sick of hearing that word from Zane. These so-called monsters were his friends, his family. Hell, his soul mate was the werewolf Alpha of the Devil Hills pack. The supernatural community accepted him with open arms, whereas the humans had hunted him down his entire life and would jump at the opportunity to turn him into a science experiment.
Unleashing his temper on Zane might only worsen the situation, though. For crying out loud, Daryl was the empath here. He found comforting words for Zane instead, although the other Esper male started to get on his nerves, too.
“Zane, no one’s going to hurt you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I know, but they’ll blame me for Walt’s actions. I don’t have any control over Walt, but he’s my cousin, you know?”
“I know. Family’s important. Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of things. Excuse me.”
“Where are you going?” Santino asked him as he passed by the enforcer.
Daryl swayed on his feet, only for Santino to grip his arm. The enforcer looked alarmed now. Next to him, Sylvia looked concerned.
“Daryl, are you okay?” Sylvia asked him.
“Just heading to the men’s room,” he explained. “I’m having a little headache at the moment.”
“A headache? Give me a break. You look ready to collapse any moment. I should take you back to the cabin,” Santino said.
“No, I think I can get Zane to talk more. With time, he’ll open up to me much more than any of the wolves in the pack. He’s scared of werewolves, but he considers me a friend.”
“That sad excuse of an Esper is frightened of everything and everyone,” Santino complained, crossing his arms. “And the weak don’t survive in our world.”
Says the man who might appear cold on the outside, but won’t hesitate to help out a packmate in need, Daryl mused.
The door to the diner opened. Over Santino’s broad shoulder, Zane jumped in his seat, looking twitchy as hell. The other Esper’s hand trembled as he sipped his coffee. Sylvia touched his arm and for a moment, he blinked. His migraine hurt less, and he could think again. Seeing Lance looking for Santino, he took that opportunity to sneak into the men’s room. Daryl had unexpected company, though.
“Sylvia, sweetheart. You can’t come in with me,” he told her, ruffling her long hair. “Do me a favor and go back to your uncle, okay?”
She pouted at him, then nodded. Seeing her tiny retreating figure, he pushed the men’s room open. Daryl walked over to the sink, turned the tap on, and splashed plenty of cold water on his face. It helped a little bit.
Maybe he could convince Santino to make a quick stop to the pharmacy in town. The pharmacy prices were a little higher than he was used to, but then again, the supplies came from human-run companies. Most of the time, the Espers in the community made those dangerous trips because they could pass for human, but there were always risks.
Daryl didn’t hear the door open, but he sensed hidden malice. He spun, glimpsing Zane, grim look on his face, holding a syringe in one hand. Before he could react, Zane plunged the syringe on the side of his neck. The effects proved immediate. His eyes widened. Daryl’s vision swirled, and he could no longer feel his feet. He would have crumbled on the floor if not for Zane throwing the syringe away and catching him.
Espers had a better immunity system compared to normal humans, which only meant whatever Zane drugged him with had been designed for their kind. Why are you doing this? Daryl would have demanded, but he couldn’t open his mouth.
His systems began to shut down, the last words he kept hearing from Zane’s lips were, “I’m so sorry.”
Chapter Fifteen
A wave of dizziness suddenly hit Deacon. His vision turned blurry and he forced himself to slow down, because at the rate he’d been going, he’d crash into something. Nausea hit him, and he felt Sabine’s fur and smaller, slender body next to his a moment later. Deacon forced himself to take even breaths.
Daryl. The Alpha wolf inside him screamed in fury. Something terrible had happened to his mate. Deacon saw only red. He wanted to rip and destroy anything that got within his path. The last time he felt this much fury had been ages ago, when he chanced upon the ruins of the former pack compound and the dead bodies of his parents.
“Deacon!” Human fingers buried into his fur and he snarled, flashing teeth at Sabine, who knelt in front of him, cupping his face, silver eyes full of worry. His temper eased a little. The savage beast that lived in his skin recognized her as family. He calmed down, if only a fraction.
She’d been talking to him in his head, he realized, but shifted when her words couldn’t get to him.
“We’ll get Daryl back, I promise you that, but you need to control your anger.”
Narrowing his eyes, he snarled into her face, tugged on the pack bonds to remind her who was Alpha here.
“Please,” she added.
That woke him up fully. Sabine never begged, not since Deacon, Forrest, and Santino found her lying next to the mangled corpse of her mate. She pleaded with him to help Alex, but the healer had already passed away to the afterlife. Deacon quieted the animal inside of him.
“You can’t fall apart now. We’ll get Daryl back and pay our enemies back, okay?” she asked him.
Deacon snarled in assent, head slightly clear. He felt a little weakened, probably on the account of Daryl being h
urt or unconscious, but Sabine was right. Deacon couldn’t afford to lose his head now. If their enemies decided to end Daryl’s life now, his own would be forfeit. Deacon couldn’t imagine a life, a future, without his mate by his side, and unlike Sabine, he had no daughter to think of.
The pack would fall apart without him and Daryl. His mate was vital to both his future and the pack’s. Deacon might form the core of the pack, but Daryl would be its heart. Already, he’d seen the weaker and submissive wolves who’d been afraid to approach him or his enforcers bravely talk and interact with his mate. Daryl was the bridge between his wolves, the keeper of his heart and tattered soul.
Sabine shifted back to wolf, and they continued toward the town.
Deacon realized in his anger, he hadn’t sensed Santino trying to reach his mind, as well.
Deacon, fuck. I’m sorry, but I got distracted when Lance arrived to speak to me. Sabine warned me about Zane earlier. I had the entire diner watching him, but Daryl’s gone, so is Sylvia.
If Deacon had been in human form, he would have hurled a stream of obscenities. The old him would have berated his childhood friend, his brother, for his mistake, but he already gave in to his blind rage today. No, it hadn’t been Santino’s fault. Deacon wouldn’t put blame on anyone until he understood the full extent of the situation. That fucker Zane had all of them fooled.
What did you find? he asked Santino.
Syringe on the floor, some light blue liquid in it. Barry, the diner owner, mentioned he’d seen something similar before. It’s what the Discipline Squad used to put Espers down.
Deacon reached for the mate bond connecting them, alarmed he didn’t sense Daryl there. Fuck. That confirmed Daryl must have been rendered unconscious. He would have been able to sense where his mate was otherwise.
Next to him, Sabine sped up, a white blur in front of him. Shit. She must have heard about Sylvia, too. Then he remembered the bonds between a mother and her child. Given both of them had Esper blood in their veins, they had a psychic link which let Sabine know where Sylvia was.