by Ian Thomas
Then she yielded, arms wrapping around him tightly. Burying her head in his chest, he felt her let go.
XX
Carys felt stupid.
A feeling she deplored.
By all accounts, Colton had died in the Pack War. Without a single incident in the past five years, the fact stood.
Yet here was a man who professed to be a werewolf and wield magic. That meant only one person. Colton. Still, he had never proven he was a wolf. He’d only said as much. And words could be very convincing. Especially since she had wanted to believe. Henry didn’t smell like a werewolf. But then he’d also claimed he was masking his scent with magic and she willingly believed him.
Which was not the stupid part.
Truthfully, she was embarrassed she hadn’t recognized him for who he really was. Had she insulted him, Carys worried as she rode the elevator up to his apartment with Violet and Damon.
Colton was the kind of person who had earned the moniker of villain. Was that what she wanted? To be a villain? Given the impotent posturing of would-be heroes around her, perhaps a villain was needed. But not her. Not when she had Colton.
And what a villain he was. If anyone could break the accords and make their world burn, it was Colton. From what she knew his greatest hits – most sinister acts and heinous crimes – happened long before she had been turned. The ones she had lived through – the supermax Siring and the Pack War – were spectacular in their ambition. If he’d succeeded either time, the world would be a very different place right now.
However, she had doubts. Colton and the idea of loyalty were so diametrically opposed as to exist as binaries. In every incident he’d happily allowed his co-conspirators, and even kin, be killed. His relationship with vampires was even less tractable. Had the notion of using vampire coercion as a weapon been his? The question had plagued her since the Pack Lord’s visit to the court. A brilliant stratagem by all accounts, however, it unsettled her as a step too far. Yes, even her.
“So who is this guy?” Damon asked. Violet was nuzzling his neck, one hand down his jeans despite him looking at Carys. She’d felt his eyes tracing every line of her body. Seth didn’t look at her that way anymore.
But then Seth was smarter. By far.
“A friend. Interested in much the same things as us,” Carys replied.
“Like killing that fucking vessel,” Damon spat.
“Among other things,” Carys sighed. His lack of ambition was crippling. That she had brought these two along could be a mistake. What would Colton make of them, she worried. Or of her by association.
“Fucker needs to die,” Damon continued, pushing Violet off him. “Swaggering into the court like he owns the place. Disrespecting us and our ways.”
Because you’re all about respecting protocol Carys thought, but bit her tongue.
“Privilege,” she replied. “He doesn’t have the same needs or restrictions as us. Says he knows our plight but in truth he is happy to see us bow and scrape.”
“And what’s with him wearing vamp-face. That shit offends me every time. You wanna be a vamp, fucko, come and suck on this.”
“Don’t think he can help it,” Violet said. “Part of what makes him supernatural.”
“Who asked you?!” Damon spat.
Ding!
“We’re here,” Carys said, her voice firm. “Keep a lid on it.”
“I’ll behave,” Damon replied snidely.
Yes, she thought, a big mistake.
Without another word they exited the lift and walked to the apartment door. Knocking quietly, they waited.
“Was wondering when I’d hear from you again,” Henry said warmly as he opened the door. While Carys realized the façade was a glamour, Violet and Damon were none the wiser. No change there. “Come in, come in. And we have new friends. I’m Henry.”
“This is Violet and Damon,” Carys said as they crossed the threshold, Damon suspicious of the man and his residence.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, offering a hand that neither took. “Holly, dear, we have company.”
Petulantly, the young vampire stalked into the room, sizing up the newcomers. In truth, Carys was surprised Colton kept Holly around. Especially now that he had her.
Once introductions were made, Colton called on Holly to play hostess. “Perhaps you could take Damon and Violet onto the balcony. Amazing view. Do you still have some of that eight-year-old left? These two look like they’d appreciate a taste.”
“Sure,” Holly said, surprising Carys. Where she’d expected the young vampire to sulk and begrudge sharing, her manner was quite the opposite. “Oh my god, I love your skirt. Where did you get it?”
“Something I picked up in the eighties,” Violet replied, preening.
Holly gasped in delight. “Vintage. So adorable.”
Damon looked back sullenly at Carys as Holly led them to the balcony overlooking Times Square. She returned to the kitchen a moment later to warm three glasses of blood.
“They’ll hear us,” Carys cautioned as the man led her to the living room.
“Hardly,” he replied. “I cast a warding spell when we moved in. Need to keep some matters private.”
“That works both ways,” Carys said quietly, her eyes on Holly in the kitchen. A warning as much as a test. When the young vampire didn’t react, Carys felt reassured of Colton’s spell. What other spells were active, she wondered, looking around.
“Tell me,” he said, relaxing into an armchair. “Were your ears burning? Because earlier I was saying how much I hoped to see you again.”
“Not that I know of,” she replied, taking a seat across from him. “Any particular reason?”
“You mean besides the delight of your company?” he asked with a smile.
“Hate to burst your bubble but the cat’s out of the bag Colton,” she said, desperate to hide the tremor in her voice. Would he drop the glamour? She’d seen pictures of him and knew he looked little like Henry.
“Does this make a difference to you?” he asked, the affable appearance of Henry remaining intact.
Carys considered her answer carefully. “Should it?” A coy bluff as she intended it to be.
He smiled. “I do have something of a reputation.”
“Which makes me wonder where I would be at the end of all this.”
“Where would you like to be?” he asked.
“Here. Able to feed on my terms. Not on someone else’s.”
“Then make a move.”
“Oh, I am.”
“And that move is me?”
“Who better?”
“A day or so ago you didn’t know my identity,” he rebuked.
“I knew you had power though,” she replied with a smile.
“So I take charge, make the play, and take the hits. That sound about right?”
“Hardly.” Carys glanced past him to Holly on the balcony. “Not your style. Nor is it mine. Leading takes effort. And there’s dealing with people. Not such a fan of people as it turns out. Other than say as food.”
“And even then,” Colton smirked. “It’s always so messy. Dealing with them, killing them, feeding off them. Now torturing them? That’s the fun part.”
“Didn’t anyone tell you not to play with your food?” she asked with another coy smile.
“As if I’d listen to advice.” He lapsed into silence, thinking. “Now, who would be your figurehead? Who can you push to center stage?”
“There’s only one really. Seth. Other vampires listen to him. They like him.”
“But being Gracchus’ lackey that seems highly unlikely.”
“He’s closer to turning than you’d think. I just need to remove a couple of…obstacles is all.”
“Gracchus?”
“Among others.”
“Tell me,” Colton said suddenly, changing topic. “Have any wolves arrived at court? Possibly seeking sanctuary?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Carys replied. “And I would kn
ow. The Pack Lord and his pet turned up earlier. Is that who you meant?”
“Not quite, but do tell me more.”
“Well that’s how I found out who you really were.”
“So he’s acknowledging me? He must be desperate.”
“Was trying to ease tensions since Holly and I killed the other wolf.”
“And how did that go?” Colton asked.
“Not well,” she replied, pleased with herself. “He didn’t have the moral high ground for long when the topic of your new wolf came up.”
“And how did that help ease tensions?”
“You know, it really didn’t,” she laughed.
“Delightful. So no other wolves then?”
“No, were we expecting some?”
“Supposedly, yes. Wolves who’ve turned on their sires.”
“Well that would make things interesting to say the least.”
“Wouldn’t it now.”
“The court already thinks Gracchus is quite the wolf-sympathizer as it is. To be harboring wolves would look very bad for him. To his court. To the other wolves.”
“To Seth?” Colton asked, the idea dawning on them both at the same time.
“But like I said, they haven’t shown up.”
“Yet,” Colton said. “And when they do I need a small favor.”
“What could I possibly offer you?”
“Access,” Colton said, sitting forward. “You call Gracchus a wolf-sympathizer. How bad would it look if he was say…harboring me?
“Not sure anyone would recover.” She smiled. Gracchus was almost a thing of the past. Usurped. Humiliated. Replaced. Oh, she liked the idea of being kingmaker. But was Seth the right king for her new world?
“Exactly. And you my dear would have Seth in your sway.”
“One condition.” Carys sat forward, the proximity to him stirring a feeling she’d long thought dead. “A favor in return.”
“What would you like?”
Carys looked at the small group on the balcony. “A little harmful chaos? Thin the crowd perhaps?”
“You, my dear, are a woman after my own heart. Black and cold.”
Winning Colton’s approval was the greatest rush she had ever known. While he was a particular kind of monster, having his views dove-tail with hers made him the best ally and greatest asset. Carys already knew the moves she wanted to make. They’d be public, brutal, and set them on a path to destroying the accords once and for all.
XXI
Lately, they’d had such little time together Rebecca expected McLachlan to always be half out the door.
But here he was. In the flesh. Almost a full four hours of unbroken contact. No emergencies. No demonic ordeals. No distractions. Oh god, was this a sign of the apocalypse? Because those were very real things to her now. And how sad was it that spending uncomplicated, uninterrupted time with her boyfriend immediately seemed unnatural.
Of course, the present disagreement may have been proof they had overstayed their welcome.
“It’s just I’ve never really known you to be that religious,” McLachlan was saying as he held the coffee shop door open for her.
“I’m not.”
“And yet you’re suddenly wearing a cross.”
“And you’re suddenly a jackass.”
“It’s just strange is all.”
“From the guy who lives in a church, has a demonic stain, and wears a sigil from a faith that died centuries ago?” Rebecca stopped and looked at him reproachfully. “I think your idea of strange is…”
“Strange?” he suggested with a smile.
Rebecca sighed loudly. “It’s the cross from my first communion. About the only time in my life I actually believed. That means it has power. And since these are unsettled times with vamps and wolves and all, I got my mother to send it to me.”
“So it’s a precaution?”
“Yes, and thank you for grilling me almost as much as my mother did.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I just kinda wish my life wasn’t so fucked up that my girlfriend needed to take precautions.”
“Did you just say gir–”
“Hey,” Jason interrupted loudly, walking to them from behind the counter. Wondering if his timing was on purpose or accidental, Rebecca gave him a quick hug. Partly because she was happy to see him, but mostly for interrupting. Why was she awkwardly self-conscious of the word ‘girlfriend’ – and ‘boyfriend’ for that matter – when that’s exactly what they were to each other? Oh right, because she was thirty-two and not sixteen. Was it a comment on her or the world she lived in that she found words like ‘vampire’, ‘demon’ and ‘werewolf’ easy? Yet the world boyfriend’ invoked more terror than actual monsters.
“Back into it already?” Rebecca asked recovering.
“First night,” he replied. “Nice to be back in the swing of things.”
“Any…you know…issues?” McLachlan asked.
Jason lowered his voice as he replied. “Claws twice, fangs once, but I haven’t fucked or killed a co-worker yet so calling that a win.”
“My man!” McLachlan cheered, going for a high-five but found himself left hanging.
“I’m a werewolf,” Jason muttered. “Not a cheerleader. But thanks. Only a couple of hours to go and then back to the books.”
“Have you missed much?” Rebecca asked anxiously.
Jason blushed and looked away.
“What? What is it?” she asked, mildly panicking.
“Okay so turns out people just kept marking me present, I’m that beige. My friends knew I wasn’t around but others…” He trailed off embarrassed. “I’m wallpaper.”
“You were never wallpaper,” Rebecca protested in surprise. “Danny, yes. But not you.”
“It’s okay,” he replied. “I’m okay with it. Taught me a couple of things. One, I am kinda beige.”
“Even with the whole gay werewolf thing?” McLachlan asked.
“Pretty sure those two things are unrelated,” Jason replied. “Besides I was one before the other. And I was pretty lousy at that, so who knows how terrible I’ll be at this.”
“Not sure anyone wants to be a successful werewolf,” Rebecca said uncertain, looking to McLachlan for clarification. “Besides what would that even look like?”
“Matteo? Eddie?” McLachlan suggested also unsure.
“It’s okay. Really, it is. Just a bit of a reality check is all.”
“Which in itself is odd given your new reality.”
“Right?!” Jason agreed. “Hey, is your mom still around? She was really nice to me in the cage.”
“Not a statement I thought I’d hear. Ever.”
“Never thought I’d ever say it.”
“Yeah she left this morning,” he sighed, a weight sliding off his shoulders. One down, sev…maybe best not to keep count. “Thankfully. Not gonna lie, was so nervous about anything happening to her while she was here.”
“A feeling he never gets about me,” Rebecca said pointedly.
“Oh no I have that fear constantly. Mom’s just…older.”
“Hush, she’s great.”
“Made me miss my folks,” Jason said. “She totally guilt-tripped me for not calling home more often.”
“Wouldn’t worry about it,” McLachlan replied. “Probably just a saved-up guilt trip she hadn’t unloaded on me or Dylan.”
“I really should call them at some point,” Jason said.
“Already have,” Rebecca muttered, absently touching the small cross around her neck.
“See the extent of her power? Quite frightening really.”
“What was the other thing?” Rebecca asked. “You said it taught you a couple of things.”
“Oh right, yeah, I have pretty great friends,” Jason replied. “Still getting a ton of crap for disappearing, joining a gym, and all that, but they’ve got my back.”
“Even Mouth?” McLachlan asked, when Rebecca and Jason looked at him questioningly, he clarified. “Well,
you did kinda almost filet him that first night.”
“Think it’s gonna take a lot more than almost filleting Mouth to ruin our friendship. Like perhaps crashing a second date,” Jason said, jerking his head toward the far end of the coffee shop.
“A second what?” Rebecca asked. Jason jerked his head again and she followed to see Mouth and Kara at a table, books laid out between them forgotten as they talked. “And how good is your self-control?”
“Incredible,” Jason replied. “Like this is harder than the wolf thing.”
“The wolf thing?” McLachlan asked, concern in his voice. “Stopping yourself from giving your best friend shit and not changing into an enraged, murderous werewolf are wildly different.”
“When have you ever resisted mocking someone?” Rebecca asked, trying to take the sting out of McLachlan’s words.
“Two thousand eight, I think,” McLachlan replied, aware of his misstep. “Pinched a nerve. Was laid up for a week, so I get ya.”
“And I’ll get your coffees,” Jason said, heading back behind the counter.
While McLachlan ordered and Jason worked, Rebecca took a seat by the window. Being early evening, the coffee shop was quiet. Apart from Mouth and Kara only a couple of other tables were occupied. She took a seat with her back to the rest of the patrons. The temptation to spy on the date was quite strong and looking down the barrel of an overnight shift with Mouth, Rebecca didn’t fancy having him mad at her.
A buzz in her bag distracted her from looking over her shoulder.
Hayley // 19:47
Hey! How’re things in the city?
It’s quite another world up here.
How’s Jason?
Rebecca // 19:49
Everything *seems* okay
at the moment. No new dramas.
Jason’s good. He’s back at NYU
and DG. So fingers crossed.
Call me later if you can.
Want to hear all about it!
“So what other precautions have you taken?” McLachlan said, setting the coffees on the table.
“Are you making this into a thing?”
“No, not at all,” he recoiled. “Genuinely interested and respect what you’re doing. Wish you didn’t have to, but see the aforementioned fucked up life of mine.”