Revenge of the Wronged

by Hettie Ivers

  “What’d I tell you?” Alex said, eyebrows raised in “told you so” triumph to his brothers and Kai. “I knew she’d be more likely to pity the Rogue than inclined to slaughter it. She has to be the key to finding it.”

  “Oh, stuff it.” I jammed my elbow into his ribs. “I’m not a key; I’m a time bomb, remember?” I griped.

  While Alex playfully cooed at me, snuggling me in his lap, the rest of them proceeded to argue how it wasn’t the same thing, that there were distinctive characteristics that identified a true rogue wolf from a wolf simply taking a sabbatical from pack life.

  And they further rationalized, just as Lupe had, that rogues always died on their own eventually, as the same “defective” traits that allowed them to go rogue would lead to their insanity and self-destruction. Because although rogues may have felt a lesser need to belong to a group, they still craved some basic level of connection and communion that, if unfulfilled, would eventually drive them to irreparable misery.

  “Believe me, Milena,” Alcaeus said, “as werelocks we’re far more sympathetic to the plight and mindset of a rogue wolf, being that we’re a subset within the werewolf species ourselves. As werelocks we’re capable of far more independent behavior and thinking than the common werewolf, who will always be more beholden to a pack. We didn’t make these rules, but we’ve adhered to them out of respect for the law and natural order of the species we now belong to.”

  Hmph. Sounded like poor justification for lupicide to me. I shifted in Alex’s lap, growing increasingly irritable. And uncomfortably hot. It was all of the body heat rolling off the big, stupid werelocks taking up space in my living room, no doubt.

  “The prophecy foretold that a Rogue werewolf would come into existence who would be different from all other rogues before it—the first of its own new subset of werewolf species. A rogue requiring absolutely no basic connection or communion with others,” Remy stressed, “capable of long-term survival on its own in a manner that no other rogue has ever been successful before.”

  “But why does that have to be a bad thing? That sounds like a positive evolutionary trend to me.”

  “Because,” Kai said, “it was prophesied that this Rogue would be consumed by the darkest of forces, that its power would be unbeatable and its reign of terror on the world unstoppable.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, but—what if it’s not? What if Jussara is right and you’re jumping to rash conclusions based on some biased interpretations? What if it’s just some nice emo werewolf destined to be an independent thinker in life?”

  “And what if it is pure evil and destroys all of humanity?” Kai countered.

  “Oh, fine! Let’s suppose for argument’s sake it is pure evil. What does it matter then who gets to it and kills it first? Why would you be fighting with the Salvatella over that? And I swear to God, if I find out this has all been a taxidermy trophy kind of thing, I will ricochet-stab every single one of you.”

  “Rest assured, baby”—Alex laughed, giving me an affectionate squeeze—“we’re definitely not on a taxidermy mission.”

  Then Alcaeus revealed the harsh angle I’d overlooked in all of this. “Not everyone wants the human race to prevail, Milena. Some, like Gabriel, see the Rogue as the beginning of a new world inhabited by a superior species. Our species.”

  Right. And then there was that. Should’ve seen that one coming. Alex took pity on me and returned my unfinished second glass of wine.

  Twenty minutes later, I was on my third glass, and I’d gone from being hot to feeling cold and clammy, even as I huddled into Alex’s warmth. More than pleasantly buzzed, I was still attempting to wrap my brain around the whole concept of the Rogue and why it mattered so much to both packs, when the house phone rang.

  “Got it!” I unnecessarily called dibs, realizing after the fact that no one in present company was interested in answering my house phone but me, engrossed as they all were in their current bickering over whether I was the key to finding versus key to destroying the fabled Rogue of rogues.

  Extricating myself from Alex’s lap, I swayed just a bit on my feet as I sauntered into the alcove off the kitchen to retrieve the receiver from its charging cradle. It would either be Bethany or a telemarketer, as no one else ever called on the landline since my mother’s passing. The landline number had always been hers, as she’d refused to adapt fully to using a cell phone. Given the late hour, it was highly unlikely to be a telemarketer.

  Sure enough, the number on the caller ID was Bethany’s. Hallelujah. I desperately needed to talk to someone normal for a few minutes—someone who didn’t base decisions to kill those perceived as different from them on the nebulous visions of soothsayers, oracles, and old crones.

  “Hey you!” I chirped.

  “Hello, Miles,” my brother’s deep voice answered from the other end of the connection.

  For a millisecond I thought my heart might flatline. “Raul?”

  I was surrounded on all sides by four big werelocks a moment later, and I was certain I couldn’t have sobered up faster.

  “Give me the phone,” Alex demanded.

  “Do not give him the phone, Miles,” Raul calmly, but emphatically, directed. “Bethy and I called to speak with you. Say hello to Milano, Bethy.”

  “Hell-o, Milan-o!” Bethany trilled in the background, sounding far drunker than I’d felt less than thirty seconds ago. There were other voices and loud music in the background as well, as if they were at a club or a party.

  “Where are you?”

  He laughed outright. “You really haven’t changed.”

  “This isn’t funny! I swear … swear to God, if you do anything … if you … hurt her …” I could barely form the words and keep the contents of my stomach down. “I’ll never forgive you, Raul. Do you understand? Never.”

  “So in other words, we’d be even?”

  Oh, God. This wasn’t happening.

  “Raul, this isn’t you. Please, Raul? You’re not a monster. You’re a good person! Please, don’t do this?”

  “Re-lax! Bethy is fine. Better than fine, actually. High as a kite’s more accurate. Quite the party girl. Way hotter than I remember her being two years ago, too.”

  I was going to be sick. I was going to lose it. Dark spots obscured my vision. I couldn’t breathe. The heat emanating off the werewolves crowding me wasn’t helping. I was suffocating.

  My inner she-wolf howled, wanting to be let out. My canines lengthened.

  “C’mon, Raul!” Bethany called in the background, sounding so happy and excited, I started to cry. “Dance with me again?”

  “Dance with Nuriel, honey,” Raul spoke away from the mouthpiece. “Join you in a minute.”

  “When this is all over, we kill him, right?” I heard Remy mutter through the haze encompassing me.

  “Raul, wherever you are, you have to take Bethany home right now. Please? Before her mother notices she’s missing and starts flipping out? Just take her home and I promise I’ll go to Bariloche with you … or to that other place on the border Gabriel talked about.”

  “Aw, that hurts my feelings, Miles. Do you really think so little of me? To suspect I’d steal Bethy away to Argentina without compelling Mrs. G. first?”

  Argentina? I felt Alex’s arms holding me up from behind, his hand spreading over my queasy stomach, another on the back of my neck, brushing the damp hair from my nape. I was burning up. I was freezing cold.

  And I was dying inside.

  “I don’t want you in Bariloche,” Raul’s gruff voice rasped in my ear. “I don’t give a damn anymore what you do with yourself. Bethany dies if I don’t hear back from Jussara in the next twenty-four hours. So your boyfriend better care enough about your feelings to lift that fucking block he put on her this morning.”

  Someone kept telling me to breathe, but it was a futile request, as my lungs were collapsing. I just knew they were.

  “Are you listening to me, Miles?”

  Alex was saying something,
talking in a low voice to Alcaeus. Vaguely, I realized they were all talking frantically at once now, but not in English or in Portuguese. It sounded like Russian. I didn’t speak Russian. Neither did Raul. That was probably the point.

  But I didn’t have time to care about secret conversations and scheming in foreign languages. I needed to save Bethany. I would tear anyone apart who tried to hurt her. Raul was still talking, but I’d stopped hearing him, my entire focus on Bethany’s flirtatious laughter in the background. She was flirting with Nuriel—a fucking Salvatella! Flirting with death without even knowing it.

  My spine twisted at an odd angle. Then it snapped.

  Alex caught me as I lurched forward. The phone was wrenched from my hand. I was being hauled outside as bones began spontaneously moving—arbitrarily rotating and cracking throughout my body. Realigning. It should have hurt like hell. It didn’t. It definitely should have freaked me out, but I was too numb. And singularly focused on my desperate need to get to Bethany. My wolf wanted all the way out. And for once, I wanted to let her out as well.

  Alcaeus was holding my face steady, his wolf eyes locked on mine, saying things to me in that ancient-sounding language I’d heard Alex use before, while Alex and Kai made quick work of ripping my clothes off. Out of the corner of my eye I noted they were both already naked themselves. In a mad moment of modesty, I closed my eyes as the cool night air hit my hot, sweaty skin—as if shutting them might hide my nudity from Alcaeus and Kai.

  I felt the ground rise up to meet me before a warm tongue lapped against my shoulder—a quick lick of warning before a giant maw encased the back of my neck and clamped down. I blacked out. But not for long.

  There was a furry beast on top of me, crushing my chest. A snout prodded my neck; another licked up my face, over and over again, until every hair follicle was alive and tingling with sensation. My eyes opened to behold Alex’s black and grey muzzle. His tongue lolled out, then licked over my snout, soaking it with saliva. It tickled. I shook my furry face.

  I had a furry face!

  My jaw gaped open. Alex’s wolf jaw yawned wider. My ears flattened reflexively as his jaw engulfed mine, then closed over it. I whined—a sad, pathetic sound in the back of my throat.

  Bethany. Had to save Bethany! I had to get moving. Had to get to her quickly … before it was too late.

  I tried to shake Alex’s jaw off. I tried to project to him my need to get to Bethany, but I sensed total silence inside my mind. A second set of sharp teeth nipped the edge of my ear. I whimpered. Alcaeus’s black wolf snarled back, then bit my ear again. Ouch. Kai’s white wolf sidled up next to me on the opposite side, growling low. A warning.

  Geez, they were uptight in wolf form.

  Point taken, though. I couldn’t very well board a plane to South America in pursuit of Bethany like this. I needed to calm down, change back, and get Alex to teleport me.

  We were in my tiny backyard. And although it was dark outside, anyone might still see us, as close together as my neighbors’ homes were. But before I could panic too much about neighbors catching me in my canine form, four huge wolves jumped over the old, damaged wood fence lining the McMurray’s property. The McMurray’s were wolves, too?

  When six more wolves entered my backyard from the opposite direction, I was reminded of the fact that Alex had recently appropriated my neighborhood, so there likely weren’t any human neighbors left to witness our supernatural activities.

  Alex released his hold over my jaw and thoroughly licked my face as all ten wolves encroached upon us, inching cautiously closer until they’d formed a tight perimeter. As they surrounded and proceeded to circle us, their body language seemed aggressive. Or perhaps … defensive? It occurred to me they smelled nervous. Even Alex, Alcaeus, and Kai’s wolves scented of apprehension.

  Realization dawned: I was surrounded. Those wolves were guarding me? The very thought made me snuffle. Seriously? What were they expecting me to do? Clearly the ricochet threat had them all scared shitless.

  I licked Alex’s muzzle and rubbed my snout to his, hoping to reassure him. Eventually, he eased his body weight from me. I wondered why he wasn’t in my head anymore. Why no one was? Of all the times they’d insisted upon invading my mind-space, now seemed like the most auspicious moment for such activity.

  “She’s so calm,” I heard Remy remark with awe. He was still in his human form, leaning against the frame of my open back door, his arms crossed over his chest, studying me with great interest. “Why the hell is she so calm?”

  A valid question. Why was I so calm? I’d just turned into a damned animal. My brother had kidnapped and was threatening to kill my best friend. Yet somehow I suddenly felt so … normal inside. Comfortable in my own skin. Or fur, rather. So whole and at peace now that I was united with my wolf nature.

  I hadn’t been able to breathe before, but now I was breathing just fine. My body temperature had been running hot and cold, but now it was perfect. My inner bitch was content. Confident. And strangely, I felt safer than I ever had.

  Possibly it was that third glass of wine. I did feel a little high. Or maybe I was simply elated that the process had been so easy and painless. If anything, it was all rather anticlimactic. So I was a dog now? Big woof.

  As I snuffled at my own dorky canine humor, I considered the possibility I’d simply gone mad at long last.

  “Milena?” Remy called to me. “Try letting Alex inside your mind so he can communicate with you, honey.”

  I tried. Nothing.

  “Alcaeus. Try opening your mind to Alcaeus?”

  Nada. Radio silence. Kai was a no-go as well.

  “Fascinating.” Remy grinned, the biggest shit-eating grin I’d ever seen him display. I couldn’t help but think he looked inordinately pleased with himself for some reason. I cocked my head at him in question.

  He shook his head at me and winked. “You’re gorgeous, Milena. Pure black and white fur. Fits.”

  Alex traded his own fur for smooth naked skin, thoroughly distracting me from Remy’s confusing behavior. There was definitely something to be said for having perfect night vision. Even irate and befuddled, Alex was sheer male perfection. Positively edible. Mine.

  “What the hell happened? What the fuck did you do?” he demanded of the black wolf.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  As serious and upsetting as the present situation was with Bethany now in Gabriel and Nuriel’s clutches, somehow being back in Brazil and in Lupe’s presence soothed me considerably. She even managed to make me giggle a few times as I picked at my food, my stomach still too sick with worry to digest much.

  We were seated across from one another in the little dining room off the kitchen in Alcaeus’s home, sipping coffee, when I confessed to her how I felt like everyone was counting on me to be able to do something outrageously important and miraculous that I didn’t comprehend and wasn’t sure I was even capable of.

  “I barely understand what they’re talking about half the time,” I complained. “Vessel is just a word for another confusing ideal. A symbol … a fairy tale. All these stupid prophecies and legends are so vitally important to them. But how can I bring myself to care either way what happens to some fabled Rogue who may or may not even exist? I only care what happens to Bethany.” And Raul—although I refused to say it aloud. I was still too enraged with him for endangering Bethany.

  Lupe nodded her understanding, her eyes sympathetic. “We all have our roles to fulfill. I am very sorry about your friend, Miles.”

  “I think they think that she’s the prophesied sacrifice,” I rambled. “They wouldn’t dare admit it to me, but I know they’re all wondering it.”

  “Perhaps …” She blew lightly over her steaming mug, seeming to consider it. “I used to have recurring dreams. Some might call them nightmares.” She paused to blow on her coffee again. “In them I was perpetually a victim.”

  She took a tentative sip and nodded her approval of her brew. “But then a violet-eyed witch
started appearing in those recurring dreams. At first she would just watch me from a distance—a silent, stoic observer of my torment. I wanted to hate her. But she was the most exquisite-looking creature. Too beautiful to despise. And though she appeared at first morbid and pitiless, I sensed beneath it all she had a good heart.”

  “Why not think of her as an angel then rather than a witch?”

  “Coming to that.” She raised her forefinger. “After countless visits to my nightmares, she at last stepped forward from the shadows. She vanquished the foes I was constantly fleeing with just a flick of her wrist. But she seemed irritated with me at having to do so. She told me, ‘Blessed one, do not follow the course any victim can traverse. Choose the hero’s path I’ve laid out for you, and you and I will conquer your demons together.’ I tried to tell her that I was done with violence and revenge, but she only laughed. Then she warned me that she ate the souls of losers for sustenance, and said that she would eat mine one day as well if I persisted in thinking like a victim.”

  Lupe gave me a “what you gonna do?” shrug and drank her coffee.

  I nodded to be agreeable, not quite sure what the heck that story had to do with Bethany or the situation at hand. “Are you telling me I need to stop thinking like a victim?”

  “Perhaps.”

  I sighed. “I know. You’re right. I just … I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Lupe. Sometimes I think I know, but then I’m not sure. When I was in wolf form, everything seemed so clear and straightforward. And there was also this moment when I was facing Gabriel in my dream … when I was so sure of myself … so positive I possessed the ability to defeat him. It was like I could feel the essence of the blood curse … as if it were a physical weapon that was mine to wield. But then, the more I’ve thought about it since, I realize I don’t even know the first thing about killing a werelock.”

  My laughter had an edge of hysteria to it. “I mean, Alex told me that Alessandra took Alcaeus’s heart out once in an argument. Like that was funny—some kind of a silly prank between siblings!”