Savannah had never had a Familiar. As mean as Tynice and Ceara had been to her, she had often worried what they might do to any animal she might have had as a companion. She had considered taking one after her sisters had left home, but then she got caught up in her studies and working in the café, and had felt she did not have time for a Familiar. Now that she lived alone, she found herself yearning for another life to share her home. Mom said I would have one when I was ready. She placed the book on the altar and picked up her athame. I’m ready, now.
Chapter Four
He was being chased.
Justin could hear the rumble of a car’s engine; it took no time to recognize it as one of the vehicles from the community’s fleet. He had worked on a few of those cars himself whenever he got bored and decided to hang out with the Omegas. Back then, his dad would get pissed if he found his son rubbing greasy elbows with the Labor class. Justin had to snort at the memory. So he decided to punish me by making me one of them? The thought occurred to Justin that maybe his father had been so ashamed, demoting his only son to Omega had been more of a punishment to himself.
The slamming of car doors brought Justin’s focus back to his present situation. Two of the Betas – Gerard and Samuel, from the scent – had exited the vehicle. Shit, Justin thought. They’re hunting me on foot, now. He ducked into an alley and hid behind a stack of wood pallets as the sedan cruised past. Probably going to circle every block while the goons look for me. He scooted along toward the other end of the passage and glanced around before racing across the street. He had to keep running. If he stopped, they would find him.
He had managed to get to the train station in Wilmette without being spotted and caught the line headed into Chicago. That bought him some time and distance, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before they picked up his scent. Justin dropped into a seat near the back door of the last car and slumped down. He glanced around at the other passengers, a five o’clock rush hour crush of weary people headed home and shift workers on their way to their evening jobs. All Human, too, going by their smell. Good. Once he decided they posed no threat, he decided to take stock of his situation.
The only money he had to his name came from the wad of bills he had won playing Flip the Cup, which he remembered stuffing into one of his jacket pockets upon leaving the bar. He took a moment to pull out the wad of cash and count it. Close to three hundred, he thought, and grimaced. That would not get him very far. Still, he had to find some way to put as much distance between himself and his Clan.
And go where? Word would be spreading, warning other Packs in other regions of his Rogue status. He had a price on his head, now. He would have to go way off the grid, even if it meant living in the mountains for a while. Colorado, here I come.
He had decided he would take a bus out of Chicago, the cheapest mode of transportation at his disposal. Leaving the train at the Loop, he had started to make his way toward the bus station only to feel his heart sink when he saw a familiar figure standing near the entrance, looking around and sniffing the air. Gerard? What the fuck? It appeared that they had headed straight for the station, no doubt anticipating his plan to find a way out of town. Gerard looked his way and for a split second they had locked eyes.
Justin had bolted.
Now on foot again, he found himself passing the Museum of Science and Industry on the city’s South Side and heading into the neighborhoods. He considered circling back around to the train yards and hopping a boxcar on the first outgoing ride he could find. He just had to find a way to get there without being spotted by his trackers. Better find a way to throw them off, he thought. Spying a fire escape ladder, Justin doubled back. He leapt to catch the rung and hauled himself up. Quietly, he made his way up to the roof. From this point, he could see the street below but he also had the higher wind current to his advantage. He walked around the entire edge, sizing up the buildings on either side. Time to make like a frog. Backing up a few steps, he took a running jump, coming to land on his toes on the neighboring roof.
He continued to pick his way across the rooftops to the best of his ability, occasionally having to jump to fire escapes in order to get to higher levels. He checked the streets, watching and listening, always keeping himself downwind. If he could get back to the rail yards without detection, he would be safe.
With a grunt, he leapt to another roof and rounded the bulkhead only to stumble through a row of potted trees. “Shit!” he said, batting at the branches that caught on his clothes and in his hair. He tripped and wound up falling gracelessly onto stone paving tiles arranged in a circle motif, landing with a grunt on his chin. Only then did he see the flicker of candles from a table at the center of the area, and a full-figured African-American woman in a long white dress and red cape standing there holding a big knife in one hand. For an instant, she looked startled – and then almost at the same time, she and Justin both uttered the same words.
“Aw, fuck.”
Chapter Five
Who the fuck is this guy, and what is he doing on my roof?
That was the first thought to go through Savannah’s mind when the stranger stumbled into her sacred space and fell flat on his face. She still had her ceremonial athame in her hand, which she had been using to call up the spirits of Masculine energy. Only after she realized he had entered the circle without her assistance did it occur to her that he had just ruined the spell she had been trying to cast.
Now, she stared at him as he picked himself up, her shock and dismay quickly shifting to frustration. “Thanks a lot, asshole,” she muttered, setting her dagger down on the altar and slamming her Book of Shadows shut. “You just ruined what was turning out to be a perfect rite.”
“Whoa, lady,” he said, his deep voice heavy with agitation as he went on the defensive. He stood a good seven inches taller than her, which put him around six feet in height. “I’m sorry if I interrupted while you were in the middle of…sacrificing goats, or whatever it is you’re doing…”
Savannah’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?” she said, cutting him off. She gestured around them. “Do you see any goats? No, you do not. You know, you’ve got a lot of nerve judging me when you’re the one who’s trespassing on private property. It’s close-minded bigots like you who are going to bring on the next Burning Times.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder, and Savannah could see he looked nervous. “Look, I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in. I was just passing through; I didn’t expect anyone to be up here.”
“’Passing through?’” Savannah eyed him. Blond hair, hazel eyes, he wore a black leather jacket, dark T-shirt, blue jeans, and motorcycle boots. Looks like a punk, she thought. Probably some white boy from the northern suburbs trying to hang with the brothers on the south side. “Who are you running from?” she asked. “Are you in trouble with the law?” A part of her wanted to reach for her athame again, but something told her that this man posed no threat to her and – for whatever reason – he might actually be in need of her help. Still, she had to err on the side of caution. “I don’t know what you did, but maybe you should just keep moving before I call the police.”
“You don’t need to do that,” he said quickly. “I’ll go.” He spared her another quick glance, and for a brief moment their eyes met. Savannah could not deny the fear she saw there, but before she could say anything more, the stranger looked around before heading back through the potted hedges.
“Uh, you can always use the stairs!” Savannah called after him, cringing as he pushed through the greenery. She sighed and muttered under her breath. “Idiot. Could have gone around them.” The screech of tires from the street drew her attention. Curious, she walked over to the edge of the roof. The light wind lifted her hair; she reached up to brush it from her eyes as she peered over the edge at the commotion below. Out in front of the restaurant, she saw a high-end sedan stopped in the middle of the road. Two men stood beside it, one le
aning down to talk to the driver while the other scanned the area. After a moment, the men climbed inside the car and it took off. “What the hell is going on?” Savannah wondered aloud. Were those guys after the one who had crashed her ritual? Okay, maybe he’s not linked to the local gangbangers, she thought, but he was definitely on the run. Al Capone might be long dead but it was well known that the Mafia still existed in Chicagoland. If he got himself mixed up with that crowd, he’d be smart to keep running.
She turned back to her altar and sighed. The ritual was a bust. She considered starting over but it was late and she had already expended a lot of energy which left her feeling exhausted on top of being disappointed. “Guess I’ll just have to try again next month,” she muttered, and began blowing out the candles. Gathering up her Book of Shadows, her wand and her athame, she made her way back to the stairs leading down to her apartment. She would get the rest in the morning. As an afterthought, she locked the door behind her, just in case the stranger decided to come back. Daddy always said you can never be too careful, she thought. If that guy needed her help, he could always knock. Whoever he was, I hope I never see him again. He had ‘trouble’ written all over him. Daddy would have also said something about her penchant for helping every stray that turned up on her doorstep, even the ones who interrupted her rituals. Savannah had to shake her head at herself. And he’d be right.
“Fuck it,” she said, “I need some ice cream.”
Chapter Six
After his encounter with the lady on the terrace, Justin could feel his heart pounding and his lungs burning from the almost non-stop running. He made a jump to another building but with exhaustion catching up to him, he misjudged the distance and just managed to catch hold of the ledge. For a moment, he dangled there, his pulse racing from more than just physical exertion. He glanced down at the dark alley floor ten stories below and gulped. Mustering the last of his strength, he hauled himself up and over, grunting with the effort. He sprawled there for a moment while he caught his breath. Staring up at the moon, he listened intently for the sounds of anyone following him.
He had managed to stay down-wind of his pursuers. Now, as he whiffed the air, he found his sense of smell overwhelmed by the musty odor of bird – more precisely, pigeons. He looked around and saw an old coop nestled against the bulkhead. Justin gained his feet and headed for the abandoned structure. He paused at a skylight to peer down through dirty, broken glass. He could hear no movement, no sign of life whatsoever, inside the rundown building. Checking the door to the stairs, he found it locked. He considered prying it open but decided he would be safer hiding out up here. The overpowering stink of pigeon – while old – would mess up any werewolf’s sense of smell and provide the perfect camouflage for a fugitive seeking a few hours of refuge. He ducked down into the coop, grimacing at the petrified droppings and feathers. Any port in a storm, he thought, as he found a corner and huddled into it.
He had to find a way to get out of the city without drawing any unwanted attention. The Betas would be prowling the bus and train stations, and even the airports, looking for him. And where will you go? The word is going to spread to all the other Clans. You’re not only Rogue, they think you’re a killer. There won’t be a single Pack that will take you in. He grimaced. How long could he run before someone caught up to him? The Council had the power to issue the command to kill on sight.
I wish I could remember what happened, Justin thought. He ran both hands through his short, dark blond hair and groaned. One thought kept running through his head. Dad and I didn’t see eye to eye, but I never would have killed him – there’s not enough booze in the world to get me drunk enough to do something like that! He closed his eyes and tried to remember the video they had played at his trial. Everyone had agreed without a doubt that Justin had been the figure seen going to his father’s study. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t see his face. Your clothes were covered with your father’s blood, he reminded himself. You had blood on your face, on your hands, in your hair… He shook his head, refusing to believe he could be anything but innocent. There has to be a way to prove it. Maybe there’s something in Dad’s study…but good luck getting back in there to look.
He hugged his knees to his chest and bowed his head. Sorrow welled up inside him and he had to bite his lip to hold back the sob that struggled to work its way up from his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut but hot tears still managed to escape, tracking down his cheeks. All I wanted to do was to show him I could be a good leader, an Alpha he could be proud of. His father may have stopped believing in him, but that hadn’t stopped Justin from admiring him. In spite of their strained relationship, Justin had always looked up to Randall.
He tilted his head back and gazed out through the rusty chicken wire covering one of the coop’s windows, watching clouds slip across the face of the moon. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he choked out. The shock and confusion began to give way to grief, and for the first time since this nightmare began, Justin allowed himself to mourn. He curled in upon himself, hands gripping his shoulders, and wept quietly in that filthy, cramped space. Drained emotionally and physically, he soon drifted off into a sleep plagued by disturbing dreams.
Chapter Seven
Because the restaurant didn’t open until noon on Sundays, Savannah slept in and didn’t wake until after nine in the morning. She got up, dressed, put on a pot of coffee, and made breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon. With Halloween fast approaching, she decided she would use the rest of the morning to put up some festive decorations in the café.
She pulled on her favorite wool blanket coat and headed up to the roof to collect the rest of her ceremonial items that she had left in her ritual space the night before. The cloudless sky was a breathtaking shade of blue and the sun felt warm on her face. She found herself wondering what happened to the stranger. The feeling that she should have offered to help him began to creep back in. He was scared. He could have attacked you, but he didn’t. Savannah cursed under her breath. “Don’t go there,” she told herself out loud. “You’re always a sucker for a hard-luck case. If he’s in trouble with a bad crowd, the last thing you need is to bring that darkness to your door!”
As she used her broom to sweep away the ring of salt, Savannah noticed a flicker of gold amidst the branches of the potted hedges. Frowning, she walked over and reached in, carefully extracting a round pendant attached to a chain. Probably belongs to that guy, she thought, remembering how he got tangled in the bushes as he fumbled through them. She turned the medallion over in her palm and saw the sigil of a wolf standing on its hind legs, and a banner with some words in a language she did not recognize. It looked old, like an heirloom. Depending on how important it is to him, he might come back for it as soon as he realizes it’s missing, she thought.
She considered leaving it on the roof where he could find it. She also considered turning it over to the police. Finally, she decided to ask the spirits what she should do. A little divination goes a long way. Her grandmother had taught her about psychometry and how to use it to tell a person’s fortune and get a bit of understanding about their character, specifically in regards to any secrets they might be hiding. Savannah would practice with some of the customers who would come into the restaurant while her dad was still alive; they’d give her their keys, rings, or wristwatches and she would tell them about their lives and what the future held in store. She got pretty good at it, too.
Setting her broom aside, Savannah wiped her hands on her jeans and walked over to sit down on the old wood bench next to her now-dormant herb garden. Her eyes slipped shut and she opened her mind to receive any images that might be connected to the pendant, something that could give her insight about its owner. “Come on,” she whispered. “Talk to me.”
From the swirling shadows she saw a burst of red, gushing like a fountain. She caught a glimpse of a woman with golden hair lying on a floor. The image changed and she saw an older man slumped in a chair. The disturbing pictures ma
de her flinch and frown. Suddenly, she saw a pair of glowing eyes, bright as gold coins, and then the flash of sharp white teeth. Savannah gasped. She jumped up off the bench, startled, and bumped into the altar hard enough to jostle it. “Oh, shit!” she yelped, when the earthenware bowls representing the element of Water rocked, its contents sloshing over the rim. The liquid splashed onto the white altar cloth, staining it a deep purple. Savannah frowned in confusion. “What the heck?” Last night, as she had prepared for the ritual, she had filled that bowl with clear water. “It changed color,” she mumbled. She blinked, and her mouth dropped open. “Holy shit – it changed color.”
The Dragon's Secret Baby Page 62