by Kat Bellamy
“Well,” Susan said, turning toward the stairs. “I’ll go make sure the guest room’s ready.”
“You’re okay with me staying here?” Colt asked doubtfully. “Even though I’m an Alpha?”
Susan stopped to turn back halfway up the stairs. “Colt, I can’t say I agree with what you did, but you did it to protect us. None of what’s ahead is going to be easy, but it’ll be impossible if we don’t stick together. Stan would want that.”
Colt didn’t know how to thank her, so he nodded.
Susan smiled a little. “Try to get some rest. Both of you.”
Once she’d disappeared up the stairs, Colt turned back to Ronnie. “So,” he began awkwardly. “Are we good?”
“Oh, you mean about you being the new king of the ghouls and lying about being an Alpha all this time? Or is this about you eating the last of the granola bars and leaving the empty box in the cabinet?”
Colt rolled his eyes. After thinking about it for a few seconds, he called after Ronnie on his way up the stairs. “That’s not like an official title, right?” he asked hopefully. “King of the ghouls?”
Ronnie ignored him and Colt heard a door slam shut upstairs before rock music filled the hall.
Some things never changed.
Chapter 35
Days passed with no word from Miles or Grayson. Despite Ronnie’s insistence that it was a good thing, Colt felt even more on edge than he had before.
Evelyn and Roland had wasted no time in their quiet conquest of the city. As the female ghoul predicted, there were plenty of holdouts from older ghouls who couldn’t fathom living under the control of any other than a Moreau, but between Evelyn’s insistence that Grayson’s survival was just a rumor and the Alpha muscle she had to back her up, there wasn’t much the traditionalists could do.
Not that the war was over. The Assembly might have won, but Colt couldn’t be sure that their rule was actually preferable to the Moreaus, as far as the average ghoul was concerned, even if the paradigm shift had worked out in his favor.
Then they still had the humans to contend with. The investigation into the hospital was ongoing, and Colt knew that Andrew wasn’t the only one leading the charge. Jason had more reason to question the official narrative than he ever had, and while Colt had been certain that putting distance between them was the best way to keep him safe, he was beginning to have his doubts.
Colt had finally gotten up the courage to visit Stan that afternoon after work, and he could only imagine what the older ghoul would have to say to him. When he finally sat down behind the glass panel and picked up the phone, Stan smiled.
“Long time, no see.”
How Stan was in good spirits after going from a cushy life as an upper middle class doctor to a prisoner, Colt had no idea, but he couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, Stan. How ya holdin’ up?”
“I haven’t been screamed at by an overworked hospital administrator or had to comfort anyone’s bereaved loved ones, so I’m not too bad, other than the subpar meat they sneak me between the three squares. Minimum security has its benefits.”
“Well, don’t get too cozy. We’re gonna get you out soon.” Colt paused, realizing that if he waited for the right moment to say what he needed to, visiting hours would be long over. “I’m sorry, about Miles. I wish it hadn’t gone down like it did.”
Stan smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Miles and I have never seen eye to eye. I thought the one thing we had in common was that we were willing to put aside our differences if it meant fighting corruption, but evidently, he was more than willing to work with the Moreaus if it meant covering his own ass.”
“I don’t get it. I thought he hated them.”
“My brother is nothing if not an opportunist. Evidently, he saw you as enough of a threat to work with them.”
“The enemy of my enemy,” Colt sighed.
“I’d say you have more to worry about from Grayson, at the moment. He’s wounded strategically, but that doesn’t mean he’s without power. For every handful of ghouls who hated the Moreaus and view you as a savior now, there will still be one or two who’d happily die for their allegiance.”
“I’m no one’s savior,” Colt muttered. “Evelyn’s the one who roped me into all this bullshit. I just wanted to protect all of you but I fucked things up even worse.”
“No offense, Colt, but Evelyn is another opportunist. She’s no visionary, so don’t read too much into her choosing you to do her dirty work. If it hadn’t been you, she would have gotten someone else.”
“She bugs me less than she did before, at least,” he snorted. “She’s busy arranging her kingdom and picking out the new drapes, I guess.”
Stan chuckled. “Just don’t trust her. I know how charming she can be.”
“Trust me, I’m not lookin’ to be charmed.”
“I’m sorry about Jason,” Stan said in a somber tone. “I’m sure it’s little consolation now, but you did the right thing by ending it when you did.”
“You never had that much of an opinion when I was with him.”
Stan smiled. “Logic is rarely an effective weapon against the idealism of love. I knew you’d come to it on your own eventually.”
“Yeah, well, now he hates me and he’s still knee-deep in the investigation. I’m just not sure he’s any safer now that the Moreaus are gone.”
“Not all of them,” Stan reminded him. “If Grayson hasn’t tried to reclaim his position as the last remaining Moreau, it means he’s planning something else.”
Colt frowned. “What do you mean?”
“If it’s not power he wants, that only leaves revenge and who knows what lengths he’ll go to in order to take it? He’s a smart man. By now, I’m sure he’s deduced the Assembly’s involvement in the massacre.”
Colt winced. He knew the term was accurate, but he still felt squeamish about applying it. Especially since he’d been the one behind that massacre. “What, you think he’d risk exposure?”
“I think he has little left to lose.”
“Time’s up,” the guard called from the door behind Stan.
“One more thing,” Stan said, leaning in.
Here it was. Colt braced himself, almost relieved for the verbal lashing he was bound to receive. He deserved a hell of a lot worse.
“I want to thank you for being there for Susan and Ronnie,” Stan said thoughtfully. “It means a lot to know that while I’m in here, they’re being taken care of.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that,” Colt said, unable to hide his shock. “In fact, please don’t.”
Stan stood, keeping the phone in his hand as the guard approached. “Keep an eye out. If Grayson is planning on exposure, he’ll do it at a high-profile event.”
“I will,” Colt promised. He watched as Stan was led back out of the visiting chamber. When they’d first met, Colt had been sure he was the one who’d end up in a prison cell. Stan had pulled him out of the fire and shown him that there was a better way. He’d made Colt believe there was a path to redemption.
He wanted to believe that was still the case.
Chapter 36
“Remind me why we’re out here again?” Colt asked as Roland dug through a duffel bag he’d set down by the lake. The Sheriff had simply told Colt he wanted to “train him,” but if ever there was a good time to get rid of the ghoul he’d described as a “thorn in his side” more than once, it was then. Especially if Roland decided he wasn’t in the mood for a new boss.
“Because like it or not, you’re the closest thing we have to a leader now, and I’m not gonna let this ship get tanked by some Alpha with no discipline,” Roland replied, pulling two long steel blades from the duffel. “Catch.”
Colt barely caught the handle of the machete rather than the blade itself. “What the fuck?”
“You’re gonna have to think fast from now on. You think Grayson and Miles are the only ones out there who’ll want a piece of you?” he snorted. “The Moreaus were a
dynasty, and there’s a reason they bred like rabbits. All that stands between the next ambitious Alpha and control of every echelon in this state is your neck.”
“Good to know,” Colt muttered. “So what’s with the medieval warfare?”
“A gun’ll take one of us out for a few seconds, a minute tops if you aim just right. You need to be able to behead another ghoul in two seconds flat without hesitation or you’re fucked.”
Colt stared down at the blade and gripped the handle tighter. “Alright. What do I do?”
“Try not to die,” was Roland’s only response. Before Colt could ask what he meant, the other ghoul charged him and swung his blade down, aiming right for Colt’s head. He barely dodged and brought his own blade up in time to deflect Roland’s next blow.
“Shit!” The Sheriff was faster than he looked, and stronger, too. Colt knew he could probably take him if they were fighting hand-to-hand now that he was an Alpha. Even back when he’d thought he was human, he had won most fights, but Roland was an expert with that blade. Every sweep and clash pushed Colt back further toward the edge of the lake and he knew if he didn’t find a way to go on the offense soon, Roland was going to get in more than just a practice hit.
Colt ducked Roland’s next blow and rushed him, slamming into Roland’s gut with his shoulder. The other ghoul staggered, but he didn’t go down all the way. Fortunately, that wasn’t what Colt had intended. He had an opening and he used it to bring his blade to Roland’s throat, stopping when he smelled blood. He’d just barely cut into Roland’s neck, but if he’d held back entirely, the Sheriff would have cut his head clean off.
Roland smirked. “Not bad.” He took a step back and wiped off the blood on his neck. The wound quickly healed over, sealing up until there was only a faint line in his flesh. “Now, let’s work on getting it down to a critical hit in twenty seconds.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me. I almost killed you.”
“If you think that, we really do have a long way to go.”
Four hours, to be exact. By the time Roland finally relented, Colt was gasping for breath. He knelt by the water and cupped his hands to drink as much lake water as his stomach would hold. When he finally looked up, Roland was sipping casually from a canteen and watching Colt like he was the animal he resembled on his hands and knees.
“You done trying to kill me?” Colt asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“For today. There’s something else I need to show you before you get yourself killed, though.”
Colt stood and walked over, watching curiously as Roland rolled up his sleeve. “New ghouls are notoriously bad at controlling the shift, but it’s even worse now that you’re an Alpha. You can disguise most of the changes of a normal shift with the right clothing and sunglasses, but Alphas shift too fast and from what I’ve heard, you’re a lupine. That means your Alpha form is a bit more conspicuous than most.”
“Apparently,” Colt muttered.
“Let me see it.”
Colt looked around. “You sure about that?”
“If we’re being watched out here, we’ve got bigger problems.” Roland folded his arms and waited expectantly.
Colt sighed. “It usually just happens when I’m pissed.”
“So get pissed. Keep that feeling locked in your mind and call on it when you need. You’ll learn to dial it back and play with the gradient, but for now, I just wanna see what we’re working with.”
Colt shrugged and tried to do as Roland said. It was harder when he was being watched. Thinking of Andrew Wilbur helped him make it through most of the shift.
“Huh. You really do look like a werewolf.”
Colt tried to respond, but his voice came out as a snarl.
“Alright, you can go back.”
Easier said than done. It took a few minutes, but Colt managed to slip back into his own skin. “Werewolves aren’t real, right?”
Roland snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Right.”
“Okay, so first things first, you need to learn how to shift one part of your body at a time.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”
“How do you feel when you shift? Physically, I mean.”
Colt took a second to think about it. “Kind of feels like when your arm goes numb from laying on it the wrong way. It starts out as pins and needles, then becomes a hot feeling that spreads out through the rest of my body.”
“Good. Then I want you to imagine that feeling, but only in one part of your body. Start with your hand and if it feels like it’s starting to spread out, pull it back in.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because sometimes one feature is more useful than the rest. You might need to puncture something with your claws or use your teeth without blowing your cover.”
“Okay,” Colt sighed, looking down at his hand. “I can try, I guess.”
And he did. For a solid hour. No matter how hard he tried to focus on shifting only his hand, it always ended up spreading or shifting back completely.
“I can’t,” he finally growled.
“You are pretty bad at it,” Roland mused. “Keep at it. It’ll work eventually.”
“Keep at it? That’s it?”
“Do I look like Mr. Miyagi to you? There’s no magic formula. Either you can do it, or you can’t. Most ghouls can’t, but it’s not like you have a hell of a lot else to do with your time,” he scoffed. “Unless you get tired of being Evelyn’s bitch boy.”
“I didn’t want this,” Colt muttered. “I barely even fit into this world. I’m definitely not cut out to lead it.”
“Thing is, neither are the people who want to. Especially not Evelyn,” he said with a sigh.
“Then why are you helping her?”
“Because it’s better than the alternative. We need an Alpha. Lawlessness doesn’t fly, not when the Assembly’s already breathing down our necks. Especially with Grayson running around out there.”
“You think Stan’s onto something? That he might try to expose us?”
“He’s got nothing left to lose. Miles has always been on the verge of anarchy. I’ve got my men so far up the DA’s ass he can’t take a crap without me knowing about it, but there’s only so much we can do to prevent an exposure incident if that’s what Grayson’s set on.”
“So that’s it? We just have to wait?”
“Wait if you want. Or try to make yourself useful. The choice is yours.”
Roland started walking back toward his car and the sun was setting fast. Colt looked back down at his hand and decided to give it one last shot.
Nothing happened. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Failure was the one habit he’d ever kept.
Chapter 37
“Welcome, darling!” Evelyn cried, embracing one of her fellow Councilwomen who’d come all the way from Iowa for Colt’s official induction into the Kinship—even if it was Colt’s ceremony in name only. Evelyn was the one pulling the strings, and everyone knew it. They were mistaken in the common assumption that he and Evelyn were together in any capacity other than practical, but he didn’t bother correcting them since the alternative was letting them know he was just an empty figurehead.
Besides, it wasn’t like he was actually seeing Jason anymore. Living a lie, living a half-truth, it didn’t matter. The whole truth, which was that he’d given up the one thing that made life worth living to live a life he’d never even wanted in the first place, just wasn’t worth defending.
At least Jason was safe. Colt almost spent more time around him than he had before, even if Jason didn’t realize he was being watched.
Colt walked with Evelyn and the other Council ghouls, putting in a half-assed effort to nod along and pretend like he was listening to their banter. When they reached the formal dining room, Susan and Ronnie were seated near the end of the table, filling in for Colt’s absent family. Most ghouls were introduced to the Kinship at birth, then officially
once they’d had their first hunt, and Colt didn’t even recognize most of the faces at the table.
More than a few of the guests were giving him sideways glances and he didn’t need to hear what they were whispering about to know they were thinking the very same thing he was. He doesn’t belong here. He’s not one of us.
Despite what Jason thought, Colt had never spent much time thinking about his birth parents. He’d always figured they were either junkies who hadn’t noticed their child wandering off or something much worse. Surrounded by his own kind, he couldn’t help but wonder who they were. Had they ever sat at this very table, dined with the people around him? Were they even still living, and if so, would they feel a sense of pride in the fact that their son had risen through the ranks of the Kinship against all odds to claim power? He thought it far more likely that they’d recognize him as being every bit as out of place as he felt.
After all, they were the first to realize the truth that he didn’t belong in their world at all.
Dinner went without incident, and Colt tried not to think too much about where the main dish had come from. Until then, most of the flesh he’d eaten had been prepared in a rather utilitarian style. Susan did what she could, but the Browns saw meat as something they needed for survival rather than a delicacy to be enjoyed and turned into a variety of gourmet concoctions.
Maybe Colt would make some changes, after all. There was no reason for ghouls to hunt humans. Stan had seen to that, and just because they had to eat human flesh didn’t mean they had to be flippant about it. When Colt glanced over, he noticed that Ronnie seemed to be having the same trouble he was. The younger ghoul hadn’t touched his plate or the glass of blood in front of him.
“Wanna get out of here?” Colt offered.
Ronnie looked surprised. “It’s your induction ceremony.”
“I think I’ve been inducted enough,” Colt scoffed, standing from his chair. Evelyn didn’t seem to notice, so he found a hallway that led downstairs to the music room. The walls were covered in windows that let in plenty of moonlight, and the shelves were lined with luxurious leather books, many of them filled with sheet music.