Beast of All

by J. C. McKenzie

  “My name is Sonny,” he rumbled. “But to you, and only you, I am dáa.”

  Brother.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Family reunion

  “I know family comes first, but shouldn’t that mean after breakfast?”

  ~Jeff Lindsay

  The cedar planks of Sonny’s North Beach cabin creaked with each gust of ocean wind rolling off the nearby crashing waves. Sonny, dressed in simple blue jeans and a worn black T-shirt, set steaming mugs of coffee in front of me and Wick as we sat around his small, unfinished pine table in the kitchen.

  Any tension that remained from our unannounced arrival had washed away when I practically did the pee dance in front of both men and asked to use Sonny’s washroom.

  Now, a sense of calm settled over me with each sip of delicious coffee. If my feras still cohabitated my mind, they’d curl up for a nap right now, no longer bickering or pacing. The cabin permeated the smells of all my favorite evergreens—cedar, spruce and pine—along with coffee and oatmeal.

  Home.

  Sonny placed a third mug down on the table and joined us. He’d forgone the caffeine fix and went for camomile instead. His eagle fera, Tank, hunted outside, away from the warmth of the cabin, but safer. I’d never harm another Shifter’s fera, nor would Wick, but Sonny didn’t know us, and his precaution spoke of common sense, not mistrust. No Shifter needlessly risked his or her fera’s life. Sonny’s caution didn’t upset me, but his easy identification did.

  “How’d you know?” I blurted out.

  Sonny paused before settling in his seat. “A vision. The images showed a woman traveling toward me.”

  Was he one of the eagles following us during our drive north?

  “But how’d you know I was your sister?” My body vibrated at the implications. I took deep breaths to calm my racing mind. Had he known all along? And still chose to stay away?

  Wick shifted in his seat but took a long drink instead of commenting.

  Sonny stared into the depths of his mug before answering. “As soon as I saw the news coverage, I knew.”

  I frowned. What news? That’s right. Stan’s comment floated through my memory. There’d been documentaries and stories on the news after I went beast and rampaged around the Lower Mainland.

  “You’re the spitting image of our grandmother.” He nodded to a portrait in a golden frame hung on the wall over his tattered two-seater couch. Looking at the worn image sent pain through my chest. Although her skin tone was much darker and her eyes obsidian black like Sonny’s, the woman resembled an older reflection of me in a mirror. I sucked in a breath.

  “Why’d you never look for me?”

  Sonny placed his mug down and thumbed the thick leather wristband he wore. “I was a child.”

  “Well, obviously not right away, but later.”

  Easy, Andy, Wick mindspoke to me. You sound accusatory.

  I shot him a dark look.

  He returned it, unflinching.

  Maybe, I am, I replied.

  Sonny sighed, unaware of our private conversation. “After the Purge, and losing both our parents, and thinking I lost you as well…I lost myself. It took a long time for me to find my way back. By then, all traces of you were gone, and I gave up hope you survived.”

  I bit my lip and looked away from his sincere gaze. Dammit. He spoke the truth.

  Stop looking for someone to focus your anger on, Wick said.

  Obviously, my previous dark look made little impact, so I turned my best death stare on him instead.

  He shrugged.

  Sonny’s gaze flicked between the two of us, but he said nothing more. Instead, he rubbed the leather band. His chair creaked as he sat back to take a deep sip of chamomile tea.

  The wind continued to howl and batter against the wood cabin.

  What am I doing here? My chest constricted and a fuzzy sensation settled into my brain. I should be out looking for Ben and the boys. Or knocking heads off douchebags.

  Doing…something.

  Not sitting around a stranger’s table in awkward silence, wanting…wanting what, exactly? An apology? This man owed me nothing. He was as much a victim as I.

  I sighed again and pushed back from the table.

  Obsidian eyes met mine. “I know your thoughts.”

  “You couldn’t possibly know what’s going through this hot mess.” I tapped the side of my forehead with my finger and stood up.

  “You wonder why you’re here.”

  I paused a second before flopping down in my chair. How’d he know that? Could he read minds like Allan? Had I lost my assassin’s touch so much that my emotions showed on my face to strangers? I narrowed my gaze while my skin itched to shift. “Maybe.”

  Sonny glanced at Wick.

  “Your wolf told me a little of what’s going on while you were in the bathroom.”

  Wick’s seat creaked as he shifted again. He didn’t correct my brother on the label.

  I started to object. Didn’t Sonny know my mate had been killed?

  My brother held his hands up. “You need to heal. Don’t deny it. There’s a dark, thunderous cloud over your soul.”

  I growled at Wick.

  His eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t say that much.”

  What the hell? I’d never heard of someone seeing souls before. I paused. Well, now, hang on. The Purge revealed just about everything that went bump in the night. Was a soul-seer that far-fetched? Suddenly, Sonny’s explanations seemed less bullshit and more plausible.

  “You’re restless,” Sonny continued. “Like you need to be somewhere else, even though you just arrived.”

  My shoulders dropped as if the weight hovering over them slammed down. I had always wanted a sibling. Yet now that I found mine, even though he welcomed me with open arms, I itched to leave. Why?

  The truth slapped me in the face.

  Because I failed Tristan. And I didn’t want to fail Ben as well. Worse. If I grew close to Sonny, I’d probably fail him, too.

  “Why don’t you tell me about it?” Sonny interrupted my dark thoughts. “I won’t betray your confidence.”

  Truth. Every word he’d spoken rang true, with no hint of a lie. That didn’t mean he omitted crucial information or talked around something he wanted hidden. Could I trust him? I peered into his dark gaze. I’d just met him. Not betraying my confidence didn’t mean he couldn’t deceive or hurt me in some way. When I glanced at Wick, he nodded, so slightly, the movement almost unnoticeable.

  “My friends,” I croaked. “I have friends counting on me.”

  “Yet, you came here, instead. Why?”

  “I can’t help them as I currently am.” And we had no idea where the Elders held them.

  Sonny’s dark brows shot down. “Why not? You’re the Carus.”

  I wrangled my fingers together. Twisting my hands on my lap. “The SRD did something to me. I’m not sure it can be reversed.”

  Sonny froze, unblinking, unresponsive. Without warning, he shot out of his seat.

  I exchanged a look with Wick. Well, that was…unexpected.

  Sonny paced his small kitchen, hands opening and closing, jaw clenched, shoulders tense. Burnt cinnamon rolled off him in waves.

  Suddenly, Sonny stopped and turned to me. Without a word, he stalked to where I sat and took my face in both hands.

  Wick growled.

  Sonny ignored him and closed his eyes. He began to hum. His hands grew warm against my cheeks, and my pulse slowed to meet the beat of his tune.

  As abruptly as he started, Sonny stopped and his gaze focused on my face. “We will fix this. But it will take time, and an open mind.”

  “But my friends—”

  “Can wait.” Sonny’s warm hands dropped from my face. Cool air flowed across my cheeks.

  “What if they can’t? They could be in great danger.”

  “You don’t know that,” Wick spoke up. “Their punishment with the Elders could be longer than they thought. Lucus agreed with
what Ben told you. The Elders won’t kill them. They value Witch life too much. Servitude, yes. Killing, no.”

  “But—”

  “We don’t know where they are held,” Wick said.

  I grunted and folded my arms across my chest.

  Wick reached out and placed a large warm hand on my shoulder. “I know you want to save them, but there’s nothing we can do until we know their location. The Wereleopards and Stan are more versed investigating this sort of thing, so you may as well stay here and take this time to heal.”

  Sonny nodded.

  Well, crap. It was hard to argue against logic.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Home

  “Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.”

  ~Cecelia Ahern

  The evening sun shone over Dixon Entrance, a brilliant red-gold through sage-coloured moss and hanging lichen. The ethereal light emphasized the lush stillness of the forest, and the ocean beckoned in the distance as I walked with Sonny toward the beach. On clear days, Alaska could be spotted from these shores.

  Tank soared above, easily keeping pace. As we stepped away from the protective cocoon of the forest, the high wind on the beach blasted us. Cries of eagles calling their mates filled the air. Down the white sand, Tow Hill rose from the sea spray, shrouded with mist on one side, while the sheer rocky surface facing the setting sun basked in the dying light and reflected the golden rays.

  Sonny and I fell into an easy silence as we watched Tank swoop ahead and play in the air flows above the ocean. Though only two weeks had passed since my arrival, we fell into a comfortable routine, which included going for long beach walks after Sonny got back from working at a nearby lodge. His company held a calming effect, and the fear of failing him had washed away.

  “Your mind runs faster than a swift river,” he said without glancing my way, his face to the ocean. The reflected light danced along the harsh angles of his beautiful face. The wind played with his unbound hair and cast the long strands across his face.

  “You said you couldn’t read my thoughts.”

  “I can’t.”

  I pursed my lips, grumbled a little, and turned back to watch the waves crash against the shore. The surf wasn’t big today, but I always found something therapeutic in watching the ocean push forward then retreat with each wave.

  “Your face tells your story, even if your words and mind do not.”

  I nodded, as if Sonny’s cryptic way of talking made all the sense in the world. And it did. He read me well, too well for someone I’d just met weeks ago. This ability of his must be part of the soul-seer skill set, but whenever I asked him about his capabilities, he’d just grin with a twinkle in his dark eyes and shrug it off.

  Instead of his uncanny perceptiveness putting me on edge, though, I welcomed it. Something else that should’ve raised alarm bells in my mind, but didn’t. After waiting all this time to meet my brother, there should’ve been more tension, more unease of the unknown, more excitement. This immediate acceptance clashed with the Andy Status Quo. Generally, I assumed everyone was a douchebag until they proved otherwise. Had Sonny worked some family mumbo jumbo on me?

  “Why does my soul sing when you’re near?” I blurted out.

  A smile tugged at Sonny’s lips, and he turned to me. His large hands gripped my shoulders, warm and soothing. “We are blood.”

  I frowned. “It’s more than that.”

  Sonny tilted his head. “We are blood, and we are Shifters. As brother and sister, we are as closely tied genetically as relatives can be. Our innate natures recognize each other. Even though we have different feras, and some feras aren’t pack animals, it doesn’t matter. Ultimately, we are children of Feradea, and she gifted us with a family tie stronger than a last name. Even if your face hadn’t been plastered across the news on every channel for weeks, even if you didn’t resemble our grandmother, or showed up at my doorstep like a lost kitten, I would’ve recognized you anywhere.” He released one of my shoulders to tap his chest over his heart. “Here. I would know you here.”

  My eyes stung, and I blinked rapidly. Unsure of what to say, I smiled instead. His words echoed through my body and sank in as truth, as right, as home. I would’ve recognized him, too. The moment he appeared outside his cabin, I knew him.

  Tank swooped down from nowhere and landed on my shoulder. I staggered forward and winced. What the hell? I straightened under his weight and waited for the pain of punctured skin, but it never arrived. I craned my neck and gaped at the beautiful fera, so regal and trusting. The depths of his eyes, so much like Sonny’s in some ways, stared back at me.

  We are family, he sang in my mind. Sonny’s fera had never talked to me before, let alone touched me.

  I…ugh…

  Tank’s beak parted in what looked like an eagle’s smile. His weight sank down, dropping my shoulder, before he launched back in the air. His talons whispering against the fabric of my jacket without ripping the material.

  I turned to Sonny, mouth still open, words stuttering, heart spasming with something words couldn’t describe nor do justice.

  “You are safe when you are with us.” Sonny, as sharp as always, pulled me in for a hug, his sandalwood scent curling around me and staving off the salt of the sea. We stood like that for a long moment as the light from the setting sun continued to fade.

  Sadness tinged the outer layer of my happy bubble. Sadness for the time I’d lost with Sonny, and with Tank. Sadness for the loss of knowledge. Sadness for not understanding Shifters carried this bond between family members, and not only had I lived in ignorance, I’d lived without it.

  My brother released me, and we turned in unison to watch the soothing movement of the sea, the wind at our faces. I closed my eyes and let the cool breeze flow over me.

  “Will you promise me something?” Sonny asked after a long, comfortable silence. His hesitant words stirred me from my standing meditative state.

  “Depends what it is.” I opened my eyes to peer up at him. Though Sonny would never cause me harm, it didn’t mean I’d throw caution down in the sand and bury it for all eternity.

  “Don’t go on a death rampage.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Sonny paused as if to select his words carefully. “There’s a reason people say fools rush in. Don’t run headfirst into revenge. You won’t survive.”

  “I don’t care.” Did his soul-seering skills tell him that? Anger flared up and chased away the calm previously nourishing my soul. The rage grew hotter and continued to burn. My skin itched to shift, even if the ability had been stolen from me. “At least if I die, I’ll be with Tristan.”

  Sonny sucked in a breath. “You don’t mean that.”

  Guilt and shame instantly flooded my body after the words tumbled from my mouth. Part of me meant everything, longing to be in Tristan’s strong embrace again. The other part wanted to bash the first part’s head in, because I also craved another man, a man still alive, still breathing, still potentially interested, and sitting in the cabin not far from this majestic beach. A man who’d spent every night lying beside me as the perfect gentleman to offer me comfort. I wanted to live, yet anger spoke the harsh words for me. “I—”

  A branch snapped on the path behind us. We both froze. Sonny shot me a look that bordered somewhere between sympathy and pity.

  Downwind, Wick’s rosemary scent and the sound of his feet against the path reached us only moments before he appeared.

  Crap. Had he heard any of our conversation?

  He stepped onto the beach and made his way to us.

  “Can I join you two? Or is this a brother-sister bonding moment?” An easy smile spread across Wick’s face as he looked at us. The dipping sun cast a shadow across his gaze.

  Or was his expression, normally smoldering, simply dark because his smile failed to reach his eyes?

  “Of course.” Sonny smiled. “Why don’t we walk back to the cabin along the beach, we can cut through the forest
instead of taking the path back.”

  My muscles refused to relax under the watchful gaze of the Werewolf Alpha, but I managed a smile. “Sounds good to me.”

  Wick nodded.

  “Besides,” Sonny said casually. “From the sound of Andy’s stomach, if we don’t get back soon for dinner, she might snap and eat us.”

  Tank screeched agreement and angled toward the cabin.

  Wick laughed, and I forced a chuckle. It wasn’t my stomach bleating like a lamb led to the slaughter, but rather my conflicted heart.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Reconditioning

  “Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.”

  ~Rumi

  The cold air chaffed my lungs as I sucked it in, breath after raspy breath. The time spent in the lab had done me no favours with conditioning. Sonny had already sentenced me to a morning run each day before he went to work, and now, after nearly dying on each run, it appeared Wick was determined to brand me with a different form of torture.

  The large hill with a face of rock columns, a constant backdrop to my morning runs with Sonny, grew larger as I ran along the beach with Wick. He hadn’t mentioned anything about my conversation with Sonny the night before.

  Wick turned to me, evil smile firmly planted on his face. “We’re going to climb it.”

  Rising around four hundred feet above the sand, Tow Hill towered over North Beach. A light mist obscured the base, and unease settled in my gut. With my chin down, I pushed harder and aimed for disaster. It beat thinking about Ben’s captivity or what evil the Pharaoh planned.

  The trail was beautiful. Following the Hiellen River, well maintained boardwalks and stairs led through a mist-shrouded forest, thick with huckleberry, salal, and ferns. Moss hung from the snaggled branches of the trees while the salt from the nearby ocean curled along the path.