“No. Don’t apologize for me. You can’t correct this.”
“Can’t I?”
He’d altered his tone, hinting at the sway he’d used on me before, and my body went soft, my mind open, my chest and limbs light. Peace. It’d even quelled the bloodlust when our connection had been in its waning period, earlier tonight, after he’d come back from trying to rescue Zel and he’d appeared with his wounds, blood decorating his shirt. The others had turned away from the red, not wanting it to affect them, but I’d found that I hadn’t reacted to it in the normal way.
I kept linking to his gaze, yearning for him, for what kept me good, not bad. Still whispering, I said, “Then there was the second killing. You’d told me that the guy in the whale-hide hat had hurt the oldster with the taserwhip. I suppose that planted the seed for his death, made me focus on him rather than any of the other thugs. But, even more, you’d gotten to me, Gabriel, and I thought I might be able to relieve myself of the building hunger for you. I couldn’t. When I touched myself, I made the anger, the confusion worse, much, much worse, until my blood heated and my bones began to melt. You’d gone outside on your own by that point, and I gave in to the change.”
“And you went after Whale Hide.”
“Any one of them would’ve appeased me, but yes.” Red, splash, heat in my throat and stomach. That was all I recalled besides the rage and the satisfaction of killing him. “After that, I came home, then changed back. I couldn’t sleep, even though my body needed it. Then you returned, and I stayed downstairs, mostly because I was hoping you hadn’t seen what I’d done—not with pleasuring myself or with the change.”
His gaze had gone hazy, a hint of red at the edges of his irises. I knew he was thinking of that night. It’d awakened the monster in both of us.
“After that killing,” he said, “Chaplin told me to stay away from you. Now I know why. It wasn’t because I’m a vampire and he was worried about what I might do to you. It’s because of what I raised in you.”
The memories—the way he’d watched me, the way I’d gone on fire for him—were overlapping now, rolling over and into me. But I breathed. I had to block it just for the time being, because it was proving to be too much.
“I never realized,” I said, feeling halfway sane again, “that you might think you’d committed any of the kills. I never thought you’d suffer because of that.”
“I have a tendency to overindulge, if not properly checked.”
Just like me. I hated that part of myself as much as I hated the men who’d made me this way. Most of all, I hated that it brought me a thin memory of pleasure.
“The night Chompers was killed,” he said. “That was because of anger. Because they’d taken Chaplin.”
I’d been close to turning, right in front of Gabriel, but he’d gone after the dog before the change had consumed me. “I held off turning as long as I could, and I made it outside just after you did. I tracked Chaplin down, freed him, and took care of Chompers.” The sight of my dog had pained me—Chaplin, so afraid of me as he’d tried to persuade me not to kill again, so out of his drugged mind with the resurrection of my uncontrollable urges. The worst part was the memory of Chaplin crawling away from me, as if he thought I was going to come after him next.
And if I’d still been hungry enough after doing away with Chompers, my fever might’ve led me to it. . . .
Shaking out the thought, I knew that if it weren’t for Gabriel and his sway, I might be even worse off now. Chaplin always tried to counsel me, and as a fellow quasi-canine, I connected to him and his compassion. But he only had so much of it, as he’d shown when he’d forced me to go outside shortly thereafter.
I said, “I made it back to the community long before you and Chaplin did.”
“You’re fast. I saw that tonight.”
“You were also slowed down by all of Stamp’s men still hanging round, but I used Zel’s entrance to avoid them. I washed off the blood and went to the common area.”
“You had that cap on,” Gabriel said. “The blanket, too, so I never knew you’d even changed clothes or gotten your hair wet. I didn’t smell any evidence of a kill on you because you’d gotten rid of it.” His smile was stone-hard. “All of you were so proficient. You took such pains to fool me.”
“Yes.” But we’d already explained why. I could see by his growing impatience that I didn’t need to do it again. “When I arrived at the common area, everyone got on me about the man in the whale-hide hat. They hadn’t seen me since they’d gotten the news, and I’m sure they would’ve been even angrier at that juncture if they’d known about Chompers, too. I just hadn’t told them yet.”
Gabriel looked up, as if mentally focusing on what he’d seen just after he’d arrived back at the common area with Chaplin. “They were all standing over you, but I thought it was out of comfort because Chaplin had been captured.”
I’d actually taken solace from how they’d yelled at me. I’d even hoped that I could use their anger to restrain myself in the future.
But then, I’d always hoped in that way, and it never seemed to work. The hunger was too strong, and not a one of them was as dominant as their crazy lone wolf. There was nobody who could overcome me in were-form, so they’d allowed me to stay, depending on my desire to get better. Meanwhile, I holed myself up, away from them, so they wouldn’t have to deal with me.
Then Gabriel had come along, and he’d been the only one who could match me.
He said, “And here I thought that the tension I felt when I walked into the room was due to me. Then again, they weren’t too happy with me, either.”
“By that time, they’d realized you had a strong influence on me. But Chaplin wanted you round, and none of them would challenge me, knowing I would best them. They thought I wanted to keep you, just as Chaplin did.”
“But you wanted to kick me out, too.”
“No,” I said. “I didn’t. I couldn’t.”
His gaze locked onto mine, as if he were trying to decide the extent of this truth, too. But my whole soul had been in the confession.
Too bad that what I had to say next would push him away for good.
“Those aren’t the only killings.” My eyes heated with oncoming tears. “Annie didn’t disappear, Gabriel.”
The words sounded sharp, an excision that we both needed. I only wished I didn’t have to be the one who’d made the cut, because I would’ve gladly taken the bleeding side of it, especially while I sat there watching Gabriel’s expression fall.
I reached for his hand. “I told you before—I’m sure Abby wasn’t Annie.”
He was having none of it. “What happened to Annie?” His eyes were getting redder, his hands clenched. “Was she a were-creature, too, like the rest of you?”
All I wanted to do was get through this, to arrive at the consequences—his raging at me, his well-caused yelling.
“She was,” I said, “just like all of us here. She was a wolf, like me.”
His eyes were all red now, but I wasny wished It afraid. I only felt numb as the tears came and my throat made it impossible to say more.
“Her domain,” Gabriel said, his voice near a hiss. “When I searched Annie’s domain, there were scratched-out tally marks on the dirt wall. Twenty-eight marks. The lunar cycle. Why didn’t I realize that?”
“I was in her domain before you were. I tried to erase those marks, but I was working so quickly that I guess I didn’t do a good enough job.”
“You messed with her possessions to keep me dumb and happy?”
“To keep you from knowing our secret.”
He reared back his head in clear anguish, and my chest seemed to crack because so much was weighed against it.
“Everything about Annie’s disappearance . . . it was all a lie, too.”
Tears attacked me. “She was so happy to find us. But, as I said, she was another werewolf, and I wasn’t used to the proximity of a second one. Just by being round, she made my hackles rise,
and I did the same to her. During the first two full moon phases, my dad was able to restrain me with chains and cables before I turned. But the full moon after that, I escaped them.”
Gabriel looked as if he couldn’t take any more, but I kept talking. “I didn’t wish her any ill while I was in my human form, but when the wolf took over, the fear did, too. She felt like a threat to me, and Annie felt the same way about me, because we faced off that night. It was in our nature to fight, to see who would dominate.”
“And you won,” he said.
“No,” I said. “There wasn’t any winning. She was trying to rip my throat out, so I had to do something worse to save myself. I killed her.”
I’d clawed her stomach out, getting to her first while she’d choked on my poison blood, because that was what were-creatures’ blood did to each other . . . poisoned.
He went into a hunch, but I was going to finish this, no matter what he did to me.
“That’s when my dad gave up,” I said, brushing back tears. “And after he died, I stayed away from the others because I knew they were afraid of me. But I wanted to show everyone that I would stop. I kept myself underground and didn’t go outside during the full moon until I felt as if I could hunt without the bloodlust absolutely taking over. I gave my neighbors more water that I pumped from my system than ever, and some of them started to talk to me over the viszes when they saw I meant well. Zel believed in me, because I was trying so hard. Same with the oldster. Even Hana and Sammy, to a certain extent. But not Pucci. He’s a black-and-white kind of guy and doesn’t forgive easily. He thought I was still beyond redemption, and he ended up being right.”
“And who was going to throw you out when you were the deadliest among them?” Gabriel asked, his tone thoroughly mangled now.
“No one.”
When he flashed his fangs, I was thankful.
I sank to my knees, my blood beginning its lethal boil as I got out the silver-bladed knife I’d tucked into a pocket, ready to do what was needed to stop all this from ever happening again.
28
Gabriel
Gabriel’s reddened vision took in Mariah on her knees as she pulled out the knife, and he opened his mouth, baring his fangs even more, shuddering with such rage he could hardly keep still.
He didn’t have sure proof that Annie was Abby, but he’d smelled a trace of the woman he’d loved in the domain. He knew enough.
But why hadn’t he known before now? It’d all been in the vital signs. Mariah’s and Abby’s, so similar. He’d been thrown off by the variance, two different songs—one using angrier, more desperate notes than the other—played on the same instrument.
Canines. He was drawn to them: Chaplin. Mariah.
Abby.
But the more he thought about her, the more he realized she was gone—that she’d been away from him for a very long time—and it left him feeling disembodied, more apart from himself than he’d ever been.
Mariah was trembling now, her eyes light green. Gabriel hoped she’d turn. Hoped for a fight, a showdown that he would win this time.
“I should’ve left you all a long time ago,” Mariah said through her tears.
She brought up the silver blade, and it glinted in the solar lamps.
Death. She was going to kill herself.
Shock blazed through Gabriel, and like the live wire it was, the connecting line between him and her buzzed to life. He realized in a lightning instant that it might’ve even been her were-blood that created such a link between two preters. . . .
Without thinking anymore, he sprang toward her, wrenching the weapon from her grip.
She gasped at the pain, and the weapon stuck point-first into the ground. Mariah slowly raised her head to fix her gaze on Gabriel.
That light green shade of uncontrollable emotion . . .
“Let this end the way it needs to,” she said, her voice low and rough, just as it always got when her beast overcame her.
He hissed at her, flashed his fangs, not sure if it was because she was putting every ounce of his instincts on high alert or because he couldn’t watch her self-destruct.
Then she began her change, too.
It happened quicker than he’d expected, with Mariah shaking just as if her blood were so hot that it bubbled under her skin, with her bones seeming to change shape in a rapid melt that reconstituted her skeleton into a bigger, badder form: her limbs stretching, ripping her clothing as she yellhowled until she loomed over him, her back going into a morbid arch, her face pushing into a snout that held rows of long, pointed teeth. Hair burgeoned over her skin, her ears pointing, her fingers clawing.
She growled, the deep, hollow sound warning Gabriel to back off, and though he could still see the tears in her green eyes, his vampire was in charge, and he gripped her throat with one hand, raising her off the floor and far above him.
Justice, he thought. Zel had died for it, and Stamp had come close to getting it tonight.
Abby deserved justice, too.
Gabriel heaved the wolf to the other side of the room, where she hit the opposite wall, causing crumbles of rock to slither down to the floor around her. But she was up in a blink, leaping at him with a quickness that left him no time to react befor evrreled into him, sending him into the opposite wall with such force that he embossed his shape into the rock.
As Mariah’s claws wrapped around his neck, he hissed. “You gonna kill me like you killed her?”
Her eyes emptied of anger, just for a split second, and Gabriel hissed again, striking out with his arm, spinning her across the room near the oldster’s art wall with its roots sticking out. She barely avoided slamming into a curved one, instead grabbing onto it to swing back and forth.
When she looked at him again, it wasn’t with rage, and that bewildered Gabriel.
But the confusion only stoked his fury, because he didn’t know how else to rectify what she’d done.
Zel, he kept thinking. Stamp.
Abby.
He flew at the wolf, but she pulled herself up the roots, climbing with ease and coming to a claw-wielding hunch while balancing on the wood bar Zel had once used for exercise. But she wasn’t so far up that he couldn’t reach her, and he sprang upward, yanking her back down to the ground.
They came to a grunting crash, sending up a huff of dirt, and Gabriel pinned her. Maybe he could’ve swayed her into obedience with his voice or gaze, but that would’ve given her what she wanted—peace. And Mariah didn’t deserve any. She’d earned an eternity in fire, the kind of anguish that was driving him right now.
When he met her gaze, expecting to see a refueled anger, he froze, because there was no ire at all.
Just water. Tears.
They’d become the eyes he’d looked into when the two of them had been together in the most transforming act of his existence.
Though he couldn’t define what it was, some form of emotion traveled from his brain and down to the place in his core where his soul used to be. But he spurned it, bunching his fists in her fur, pulling her up, hearing her whimper.
Then he bared his fangs, readying himself for a righteous bite. He’d tear out her throat, then shove her silver knife into her heart.
Another look into her eyes told him that she would accept this, but something else was in there, too. She didn’t want this bloodlust that had been ruling her. She’d tried to outrun it.
He hesitated, seeing himself reflected right back at him.
Then she closed her eyes, waiting.
He held her by the hair like that, knowing he had nothing to look forward to but endless battles. He was tired of them already. So tired.
His fangs receding, he pushed her to the ground, backing off from her.
He didn’t look behind him as he went to Abby’s door, pulling it off its hinges and slamming the thick wood to the ground. Nowhere left to go. No direction. No Abby to find anymore, no sense of purpose now that his codes and beliefs had lost the fight.
He
bolted through Abby’s room, using her exit to go outside, where the sun was on the cusp of its rise.
Thankful for the coming mental darkness that would swallow him up, he madly dug himself a shallow grave in the Badlands dirt, then covered himself for what turned out to be several blank nights where he wouldn’t have to recall the tears in Mariah’s feral eyes.
Where he wouldn’t have to ask himself how any monster could have it in them to cry.
29
Mariah
It wasn’t until a few nights later that I saw Gabriel again.
I’d gone to Abby’s room in what had become a ritual since he’d disappeared. There, I would sit, using her domain as a cathedral of sorts—a place where I wanted to find forgiveness, if it would have me. My neighbors left me alone to do it, too, and for that, I was grateful, if not even lonelier.
Before tonight, I’d known just where Gabriel had buried himself. It wasn’t far from Abby’s entrance, and the dirt was so disturbed that it was obviously a quickly dug grave. A section of Gabriel’s shirt was even sticking out, so when I’d ventured outside in a heat suit with Chaplin accompanying me, I’d covered him all the way up, wondering when Gabriel would come back.
Or if he ever would.
But here he was tonight, in Annie’s place, clearly having straightened up, all the handmade rugs piled neatly near the common-area tunnel door, all of Annie’s scant possessions tucked away so that it seemed as if a new occupant were ready to continue on from where Annie had expired.
As I entered through the common-area tunnel door, he didn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought I’d find myself alone here.”
He kept packing up his carryall bag, which he’d, at some point, fetched from my domain. It was the final sign of his moving out and on.
Didn’t he still want to kill me?
“If I didn’t know better,” I said, “I’d think you planned to stay in this place.”
“Abby’s?” he asked, as if he wanted to hear me say the name.
There was no cruelty in his tone, and his loss of passion saddened me. But he was talking to me, and he wasn’t doing it while trying to maim me, either.
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