by E. S. Moore
A blurry face peered down at me. She was still holding on to my arms. She shook me again, a little more forcefully this time.
“Are you all right?”
“No.” This time, it came out just above a whisper. My throat felt raw. For a panicked moment I thought I felt my own blood seeping from a ragged wound that stretched clear across my neck.
“It’s okay,” the woman said. “It’s over.”
A name fluttered through my mind. Keira. Her name was Keira.
And it all came rushing back to me. I sat up too fast, causing the world to sway. I just about threw up on myself. I buried my face in my hands and took deep breaths until the nausea went away.
Where was Jonathan?
“I tried to stop them.”
The misery was so thick in her voice, I looked up. Her wrists were slick with blood. Deep ruts were cut into them where she’d worked her hands free of her bindings. It had to have taken all of her strength to break free. I doubted someone like Gabriel would have used bindings a werewolf could easily escape from.
I glanced over at his body. He was still staring at me with those lifeless eyes. The blood around him was starting to thicken. The floor had greedily drunk quite a bit of it. It would take forever to get the stains out.
“How?” I asked, not really sure what I was asking.
“It was that woman.” Keira shot a glance toward Mira’s body. “She’d been getting close to everyone, poking her nose into everything. She set up the party.”
That reminded me of Pablo and his bunny slippers. For someone I didn’t like, his death was hitting me hard. A tear slipped down my cheek and fell into my lap.
“I should have known something was up.” Keira took a deep, shuddering breath. She was sitting in front of me, legs sprawled out awkwardly. She looked about as unable to stand as I felt. “She kept asking if Jonathan and Nathan would be here tonight. I thought they would be, but something came up at the last minute. I . . .” She trailed off and started crying.
I sat there, stunned. Her sobs brought more tears to my eyes. I tried hard not to let them fall, but was in no condition to do much of anything. There was still work to do, yet I needed that moment of release. Someone would have to find Jonathan and tell him what had happened.
But not yet. I don’t think I could have faced him right then.
I tried to get to my feet, but my legs wouldn’t support me. I sat heavily back and rested my head against the couch. I closed my eyes and waited, listening to Keira’s sobs, at my own ragged breathing.
Time passed.
I blacked out again.
A scream tore me from my slumber. Adrenaline pumped through my body and I leapt to my feet, telling me I’d been out long enough that most of the mixture had worked through my system. Keira was up just as fast as I was, looking as if she had fallen asleep as well. We were both wobbly, but the pure agony in that scream had us both on the edge of panic.
Keira looked at me. Vestiges of her wolf peered out.
Something crashed downstairs. It was followed by a howling scream.
I started to run.
Keira was right behind me. Her breathing sounded more like a growl. I knew if it came to a fight, there’d be no holding her wolf back.
I reached the railing and peered over. Bodies still littered the floor. The door to the Den was closed, but that meant little. If someone had come inside, it would have swung closed on its own.
I headed for the stairs, trying to look everywhere at once. I couldn’t see anyone from where I was, but could hear them. It sounded like our screamer was in the office.
I realized about halfway down the steps I didn’t have any weapons on me but a single knife. I drew it and considered heading back up for my gun. I wasn’t sure who was here. If it was more of the Left Hand, I might need it.
Jonathan strode out of the office, stopping me before I could turn.
His face was a mask of rage. His wolf was coming out, his eyes a feral yellow, face sprouting fur. His fingers were clawed, his head a ravaged mess where his glamour no longer hid the damage I’d done to him so many years ago.
I hurried down the rest of the stairs and stopped in front of him. Our eyes locked.
“Jon—” I started, but it was as if he didn’t recognize me.
He came at me, shifting as he charged.
Keira screamed at him to stop, but he wasn’t listening. I took off at a run, heading for the front door. If I could get outside, then I could escape him, give him time to calm down. There was no reasoning with a werewolf in that state. While I could stab him with my knife so that the silver would paralyze him, I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t cause him any more pain.
He hit me in the side, moving faster than I could manage in my partially drugged state. We slammed hard against the wall three yards away. My head rattled and I very nearly passed out again. Teeth snapped inches from my ear. His claws dug into my arms.
I tried to stab him, knowing it was my only chance, but he saw the movement and twisted my arm. The knife cluttered to the floor as my fingers went nerveless.
He reared back, ready to bite my face off, when Keira crashed into us. The bulk of her weight hit Jonathan in the side, ripping his grip from me. If it wasn’t for the thick leather of my coat, he might have taken my arms with him. They tumbled to the floor in a flurry of fur and gnashing teeth.
I stepped back, dazed. Keira had shifted and for the first time, I knew there was no way she could have been the wolf who’d attacked me when I’d tracked Nathan. Her fur was brown, but was streaked with blonde. She was much larger as a wolf than the other had been.
Jonathan threw her from him. She slid across the floor and crashed against the far wall. She barked out a gasp of pain and scrambled to her feet.
“Stop!” I shouted, causing Jonathan to spin toward me. He leapt before I could take another breath.
I tried to dodge him, but my coat flared out behind me. He snagged it with a claw and yanked me off my feet. My head hit the floor with a crack. Much more of that and my brain would be permanently scrambled.
He flung himself on top of me, teeth bared. His head darted forward, toward my neck. I was too weak to fight him.
Thankfully, Keira had recovered. She landed on his back, distracting him before he could close his powerful jaws. Her arms wrapped around his throat and she jerked him backward. They fell from me, allowing me to scramble backward. She held him tight, legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his throat. She was squeezing with all her strength, trying to choke him out.
I staggered to my feet and very nearly went down again. I’d felt sick before, but now the churning in my stomach was constant. If Jonathan got loose again, I wouldn’t be able to stop him from killing me. It was all I could do to keep conscious.
“Jonathan,” I said, using the wall for support. “Listen to me.”
He thrashed against Keira. They rolled up against one of the bodies and that only seemed to enrage him more. He tried to get up, her clinging to his back, but she held tight, using her weight to keep him from rising.
“Jonathan!” I shouted it this time. All the frustrations, misery, and rage I could muster came out in that shout. The tears I’d managed to stem surged back to the surface and spilled down my cheeks. “Please, stop.”
His struggles slowed. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my words and tears or if it was because Keira had nearly succeeded in choking him out.
And then I saw it. I saw the man behind the beast. He was in there.
And he was hurting.
“We didn’t do this,” I said, and then repeated it for emphasis. “We didn’t do this.”
He went limp. The yellow bled out of his eyes and he started to shift back.
Keira wasn’t about to let him go. The thrill of the fight was still thrumming through her. As Jonathan’s body contorted and changed from wolf to man, she seemed to grow that much more excited. In that moment, I knew she might kill him.
�
�Keira,” I said, no longer able to shout. “Let him go.”
There was a moment when I thought she might let the bloodlust win out and rip out his throat. She looked at me and there was no recognition there, only pure animal instinct.
But then, something got through to her. Her wolfish eyes traveled from me, to Jonathan and she softened. Her arms released and she scrambled back toward the office, whimpering. She vanished inside.
Jonathan lay naked upon the floor. He was crying.
I knelt beside him, shaking with my own tears. “It was the Left Hand,” I whispered. He needed to hear it, needed to know that he wasn’t responsible for this. “But I got him, Jonathan. He’s dead.”
He growled and looked as if he might shift again. I rested a hand against his back and gently stroked his sweaty body. He looked up at me and calmed, though the pain in his eyes was impossible to fathom. It hurt me to see it.
“They were waiting for you,” I said, not sure what to do, what to say.
Keira walked back into the room and I stood. She’d shifted back and was stark naked. Her clothes lay in tatters on the floor where she’d first shifted.
Jonathan refused to move. He was curled up as if he didn’t have the strength or will to do anything. Everything he’d worked for was lying dead around him. All of these people, everyone who’d come to him was gone.
And I knew he was blaming himself.
“He needs you,” I said to Keira, stepping back. “Take care of him.” I started for the door.
“No,” she said, causing me to stop. “It’s not me he needs right now.”
I turned to find her staring at me meaningfully. She nodded toward him and headed for the stairs, picking up the remnants of her clothing as she went.
A moment later, Jonathan and I were alone.
I walked slowly over to him and lowered myself down next to his trembling body. His tears were still flowing and his stare was blank, as if he was no longer seeing anything.
I touched his cheek and ran my thumb beneath his eye. He shuddered and glanced up at me. Our eyes locked, and this time, there was no rage. He scooted close to me so that our bodies touched. He reached out a hand and I took it in my own, giving him what remaining strength I had.
We stayed there for the rest of the night, amid the bodies of those he’d sworn to protect.
And somehow, I was content.
32
I didn’t know why I was there.
Only a few days had passed since the destruction of the Left Hand and the Luna Cult. I still hurt from my wounds, both external and internal. The pain of the latter was going to stick with me for a long time.
I stood beside Keira beneath the moonlight and the stars, watching Nathan and Jonathan. I could hear Jonathan’s soft murmur, but couldn’t make out the words. He stood a little behind Nathan, who was kneeling, hand on a tombstone, whispering his good-byes.
Jonathan had asked me to come, but hadn’t explained why. I came along, figuring we were going to pay our respects to the Luna Cult dead. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to believe they’d have a mass ceremony since most of the Luna Cult had stepped out of their lives, leaving loved ones and careers, to give their full attention to the creatures they worshipped.
Turns out, we weren’t there for the Cultists at all.
“It was his wife,” Keira said as we stood watching the two weres. “Nathan found out she was sick and kept an eye on her. When she went into the hospital, he decided he needed to talk to her one last time. Jon went with him to show support.”
I stood there, numb.
Nathan had a wife?
It all suddenly made sense. He hadn’t been stalking that old woman, but rather, had been watching his dying wife, wanting to be there when she finally succumbed to the illness that plagued her. Did that mean the younger woman I’d seen with her was Nathan’s daughter?
I was too afraid to ask. It was bad enough to have lost the Cult, but to lose someone he’d been married to . . . it had to be nearly breaking him. In time, I might try to find out for sure. Until then, I’d have to wonder.
“Did you know her?” I asked, keeping my voice low, though I knew Nathan and Jonathan could hear us.
Keira shook her head. “When Nathan was turned, he left her, figuring it was the only way he could protect her. He was afraid he’d lose control one day. He thought it better to leave her so she could move on and live a normal life.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Whatever that means these days.”
A faint part of me was angry that Keira knew about Nathan’s pain long before I did. But then again, she had to live with him. It was harder to keep things from those you saw every day. I was an outsider, no matter how close I’d gotten to the Cult.
Nathan stood and wiped quickly at his eyes. The funeral had been earlier that day, but he hadn’t gone. I was assuming he was afraid someone would recognize him—his daughter perhaps, if that’s who she was. It was either that or he simply couldn’t handle it. There’d been a lot of death lately.
I felt horrible for him. I’d been such a bitch toward Nathan, thinking he was doing something against Jonathan’s orders. I’d even accused him of working with the Left Hand. He must think of me as a complete and utter moron.
But yet, there I was. I don’t think Jonathan would have invited me if he didn’t think Nathan would approve.
Still, I felt sorely out of place. This was Nathan’s moment. I never knew his wife. Until that day, I didn’t even know she existed. The longer I stood there, watching him whisper his last good-byes to a woman he hadn’t spoken to in probably fifty years, the more out of place I felt.
Jonathan patted Nathan on the shoulder and turned to face Keira and me. He was doing a good job keeping his emotions hidden, but I could see the pain behind his eyes. He walked toward us and bowed his head.
“We’re leaving soon,” he said. He pressed a hand into mine. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to the both of us.”
“Yeah.” I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it fell flat.
Jonathan returned it with about as much success. “I’m going to wait in the car. Make sure he’s okay, all right?”
I nodded as Jonathan let go of my hand. His fingers lingered for a moment before he turned and walked to the car, head down, shoulders slumped.
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked Keira as soon as I was sure he couldn’t hear me.
“I don’t know,” she said. “He barely talks to anyone anymore. I think he’s trying to deal with things in his own way.” She paused. “I’m sure he’ll call you soon enough.”
I sighed. Even when he’d called Jeremy to have me show up, he hadn’t asked to talk to me directly. I was beginning to wonder if he blamed me for the deaths of his Cultists. I mean, I was the one who was supposed to have stopped the Left Hand, and yet I’d allowed them to destroy Jonathan’s livelihood.
“Thank you,” I said, turning to Keira. I needed to get something off my chest. “I never got a chance to tell you before . . .”
“Don’t do that,” she said, waving me off. “Don’t thank me for anything. You’re the one who saved me. If you hadn’t shown up, I’d be dead right now, as would Jonathan more than likely. You’re the one we need to thank.”
The thought didn’t sit well with me. I might have killed Gabriel in the end, but I didn’t really save anyone. If I’d been better, I’d have gotten him long before he managed to kill nearly everyone in the Cult.
Nathan stood there a moment longer before turning and walking over to us. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were red, but at least the tears had stopped flowing.
“I need a moment with Kat,” he said, stopping in front of us.
Keira didn’t say a word. She just turned and walked to the car to wait with Jonathan.
“I’m sorry,” I said before he could speak. “I didn’t mean to . . .” I trailed off. What could I possibly say that would make anything better?
“I’m not big on apologies,” he said. He snif
fed and looked around as if he was afraid someone might have seen him let his guard down. It was late enough that we were the only ones at the graveyard.
“Well, I’m sorry anyway.”
He nodded. His eyes met mine and he seemed to search for something in them. Finally, he sighed and gave a bitter laugh.
“There’s something about you that reminds me of her,” he said, indicating his wife’s grave. “I think it’s your stubbornness. She could be so goddamn hardheaded sometimes, it made me want to scream.” He lowered his head, stoicism cracking. “I shouldn’t have left her alone all of these years. Just because she was stubborn, didn’t mean she didn’t care.”
“You did what you thought was best.” I felt like a fool trying to comfort him. We’d never been friends, not really. I wasn’t sure we’d ever be.
He sighed. “Yeah. And now she’s gone.” He looked me in the eye and lowered his voice. “If it would have been you, would you have turned her? Could you have brought someone you loved over to the other side with you so you could spend your lives together?”
And that’s when I knew. Nathan kept himself apart all of this time because of things he thought he should have done. He loved his wife and had chosen to leave her rather than turn her into a monster.
I thought of Thomas, of the pain he went through when he’d been tainted. I thought of my own torments, how I hated what I’d become.
And yet, the answer wasn’t easy. Could I really let someone I loved die without doing everything I could to save them? I thought of Jonathan in the car.
I thought of Ethan back home.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I really don’t know.”
He nodded as if that was the answer he’d expected.
And then he walked away.
I remained standing there looking at the gravestone as the car started up. There was a moment when I think they were waiting for some sign from me that I was okay before they drove away. I didn’t know where they were going and that scared me. The Den was now an empty library. The glamour was gone. They wouldn’t return there.
I stared hard at the grave and wondered, given the choice between dying and being able to live on as a monster—which would I really choose?