by Unknown
At least he could turn on the headlights. There was no sign of their pursuers, and nobody else had joined the chase. But still he kept his foot pressed hard against the floor, using his own wedge of magic to drive away the wildlife—since Tatya no longer seemed capable.
When the lights of the compound came into view, he let out a sigh of relief. Eric’s nerves were frayed to the last thread from the intense concentration he had to pay to the road at this speed, his ever dwindling supply of magic, and the constant tapping of long, painted fingernails against the car seat behind him. It didn’t help that with every breath he drew, the scents of worry and fear flooded his nose. Even Ivan was starting to smell worried, so either the cologne had worn off, or his emotions were overpowering the chemical’s ability. Eric wasn’t surprised at his worry, though, because he was beginning to share it. None of the calls Ivan had tried to place after they had gotten a signal had been picked up.
That wasn’t like Lucas at all.
He let his foot ease off the accelerator as they neared the turnoff to the long graveled driveway. He opened his window a crack to let in some fresh air to help get rid of the soggy fog of worry pressing against him. The wind began to whistle in ever decreasing tones as he braked. But as soon as he made the turn, panic made his stomach drop. He slammed his foot down on the gas pedal once more, making rock spray up behind the car and the back end fishtail.
Carried on the thin, focused breeze were two new scents—acrid gunpowder . . . and blood.
Chapter Five
“WELL, DON’T STOP there! Keep going!” The excitement in the voice made Holly smile. Cat was always interested in what was happening to her, and yet it amazed her every time they talked. She should be beneath Cat’s notice. Her friend was not only incredibly beautiful, she was disgustingly rich—heiress to a vast computer fortune. Yet Holly had never met a more down-to-earth person. Admittedly, Cat was more of a geek than a social butterfly. Unlike her hardware-creating father, she loved coding, creating software from scratch. In fact, Holly’s uncle Raphael was getting used to finding the bed empty in the middle of the night because Cat had gotten an “inspiration” and was plunked in front of the computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard.
Thankfully, Raphael wasn’t Holly’s uncle by blood—because how messed up would that be to have a BFF who was also your aunt? She would also feel strange gushing over the couple’s newborns as rabidly as she did if they were her cousins. The boy and girl were fraternal twins, mirroring their parents rather than each other. Ray—Ramon Eduardo, named for Raphael’s grandfather—was the image of his mother with thick blond hair and piercing blue eyes, while little Maggie—Margaret Janet—had her father’s permanently tanned skin and dark curls. Holly smiled at the thought as she decided how to respond to Cat’s question.
“Oh, c’mon! You can’t leave me hanging. What happened after Annie went down to the river? Did you and Eric work things out? I mean you said you were going to talk to him, find out what really happened.”
Holly could imagine Cat’s eyebrows wiggling as they always did when she was trying to get her to spill. She felt her face redden and twirled the phone cord around a finger while she paced the short distance to the end of the bed and back. “There wasn’t anything to talk about. I told you, we hadn’t even made it out the starting gate when he left.” But the remembered sensation of his arms around her made her words a lie. She could still feel his fingers skimming through her hair with one hand while the other rubbed lower and lower until—It was pretty sweet when he tucked that thumb in my back pocket and squeezed.
Woo! . . . Interesting.
The voice made her blush even harder. One of Cat’s special gifts, inherited from the Sazi who attacked and turned her, was telepathy. There was no thought that could be hidden from Cat if she’d met you, even briefly. Thankfully, she only used the skill to tease or if there was a crisis.
So squeezing your butt isn’t reconnecting, huh? Raphael didn’t do that until our second date.
“Stop that!” Holly felt herself exclaim, laughing as she said it. “Okay, so maybe we reconnected a little. But we didn’t kiss or anything.”
“Yet—” Cat spoke in her ear once more, which was good. She wasn’t sure if Cat could see memories or worse, fantasies, and didn’t want to find out.
“From your lips to God’s ears, Cat.”
“Okay, I’ll let you off the hook for now about the handsome Mr. Thompson. What have you been up to since he left for America? Just playing tourist?”
The first comment perked up Holly’s ears. “He is back then? Is he okay?”
“Yup. I asked Uncle Chuck about him when you called me from Annie’s. All Eric’s coming back for is some testing by the healers. He promised Wolven had nothing to do with it.”
Holly felt a large weight lift from her even though it still totally weirded her out that Cat called the Chief Justice Uncle Chuck. But he was Cat’s godfather, a friend of her parents from before the attack that made her Sazi, so she had a unique privilege. Holly was thankful for that relationship. It was probably the only reason Holly was alive today.
What Cat said next perked her ears. “Apparently, he’s got one heck of a howl. They think it’s some sort of actual weapon. Some of the seers said he’s going to be important someday.” Pride mixed with awe in Holly’s mind. The Sazi seers knew their stuff. They guided everybody’s daily existence—kept them safe and in balance with humanity.
Then Cat let out a sharp laugh. “But hey, they said that about Raphael and you too, so what do they know?”
Had they? She opened her mouth to ask what Cat had heard when her friend continued, “I could track him down if you want. I know almost all the healers now. One of them must know something.”
Holly shook her head so hard she felt her newly cut hair slap against her cheeks. “Are you kidding? I don’t want him to know I’ve been asking about him. He’d think I was some sort of creepy stalker-girl.”
“Oh. True that. And I’m not really good enough yet to sneak a peek at the big minds. They’re probably the only ones who would know anything. Okay, then. Change of subject. I take it you found Rose? Are you getting together for a bitch session later? It’s still daytime there, right? I always get messed up on the time changes.”
“Yeah. Afternoon here, which means it’s yesterday there. Weird. But yeah, I found Rose.” Holly had always called her talks with Rose bitch sessions, because that’s all they wound up doing—bitching to each other about one thing or another. For a long time, Rose had been her only confidant, the only other person in the family who understood the frustrations of being a mere human in a world of wolves. But Rose had come first, so she was treated like an ordinary kid. By the time the two sets of twins—Jasmine and Iris, and Lily and Pansy—came along, Rose was old enough that she didn’t care that they turned.
Holly had never had that luxury, because Rose was already away at college when she was born, and Mom had died having her. There was nobody to defend her or help her when the bullying started. It wasn’t until she was sixteen that Holly had really gotten to know Rose and realized how much they had in common.
But did they still have anything in common? “We talked, and we’re getting together later tonight.”
“Whoa. You sound . . . odd all of a sudden. Is everything okay with the two of you? I thought you were really excited you were going to get to visit with her.” Holly could hear background noises fade in the distance. Cat must be padding—probably barefoot—through the rambling house in Albuquerque to a place where they could talk more privately. But Raphael was a wolf, and could probably hear their conversation anywhere in the house. Anywhere, that is, except Cat’s computer room. When Holly heard the metallic thud of a door shutting, she knew that Cat had gone into the specially reinforced, soundproofed room that had cost a small fortune to install. But it was a haven for her—where a paranoid cat could escape her duties as Alpha Female of a pack of wolves and know she was utterly alone and sa
fe. “Okay, now you can dish.”
Holly took a deep breath. It was now or never. “There’s some stuff I haven’t told you about my past, and I’m afraid it’s coming back to haunt me.”
There was a pause long enough that she wondered whether the connection had gotten broken. “Are you still there?”
“Mmm-hmm. Just thought I should keep my mouth shut at this point and not ask the obvious.”
Holly sat on the bed and threw herself back against the pillows. She stared at the ceiling while blinking back tears. Cat’s voice sounded so . . . careful. Was she hurt? Offended? Pissed? “Like why haven’t I brought this up before when I’ve talked about my family?”
“You said it, not me. But I thought we agreed—the no-secrets thing was why I told you about all that stuff back in California.”
Holly let out a sigh that carried over the line and picked up a small red accent pillow and started to thump it on the bedspread. “I know. I know. Part of it was that I’d honestly forgotten. I’d already sort of gotten out of the group before we met.”
“Group?”
“FMU. Family Members United. It’s a support group that a bunch of us human kids started. Mostly online in a password-protected forum. The original bitch session, but with more people. Rose is a member and so was I. There’s a meeting tonight at her house and she wants me to come.” Once again her stomach roiled and bile rose into her throat. It shouldn’t be this hard to think about the group.
“And this is a bad thing? Jeez, I would have loved to have known about them after I got turned. I needed all the support I could get.”
The pillow went sailing across the wall to hit the mirror. She winced as it wobbled, but it stayed attached to the wall. “But that’s the thing. It’s human only. I’m not sure they’re going to like having me there tonight.”
Cat’s voice turned incredulous. “Holly, you were an attack victim. It was so not your fault. If you were already a member before, I can’t imagine they wouldn’t still be supportive. I mean, who better to understand?”
Her head shook of its own accord, pulling hard enough on the phone cord that the whole unit nearly fell off the nightstand. She was going to destroy the room if she wasn’t careful. “You don’t know what they’re like, Cat. It’s sort of the KKK of the Sazi world. Utterly loyal, but only to our kind. More than a few would enjoy cross burnings and lynchings, except it would only piss off the animals, not kill them.”
Another long pause and she realized she’d actually said the animals out loud. It had felt strange, and yet utterly natural too.
“Um. You’re shitting me. Right, Holly? And you were a member, why?”
Holly threw up one arm, even though Cat couldn’t see it, and brought it down sharply against the nearest feather pillow. “Anger. Hate. All that rebellious teenage crap. It was my life, Cat. The same shit you saw and put a stop to. If I haven’t thanked you yet today for helping me get my head on straight, thank you.”
“So you were active in this . . . group until you turned? Even after you met me?”
“Not so much. They started to get a little too radical for me about the time I turned twenty-one. I joined at sixteen. I dropped out when they started talking about requiring all members to move to states that allowed concealed carry permits. That just seemed . . . creepy, y’know?”
“Yeesh. KKK with a side order of IRA. And Rose is still a member?”
Holly’s eyes moved to the clock radio on the table near the window. Just an hour left. She’d slept away most of the morning, not realizing just how tired she’d been, and the smell of baking chicken “chook” casserole from downstairs had made her wander down for an early dinner before she called Cat. “Yep. One of the found ers. She swears that everybody is going to be glad to see me, but I’m not so sure.”
“Well, you’ll certainly get your answer.”
Her brow furrowed and she sat up on the bed and leaned back against the headboard. “Answer?”
“If they welcome you with open arms, they’re a support group. If not . . . then I’m thinking hate group or cult is a better word for it.”
“Yeah, that’s sort of where I was going with it.” A wave of what felt like panic rushed over her just then, but she couldn’t place the source. Still, it reminded her. “And you can’t say a word to Raphael about this! The FMU has to be kept secret.”
“Hello? I say again, cultish.”
“I swore, Cat. I take that as seriously as I took my promise to you when everybody else thought you were insane for hearing voices in your head.”
Fine. I promise . . . so long as they don’t endanger anyone here. But if they threaten my kids or my people, all bets are off.
That Cat had resorted to telepathy said she didn’t like it, but she’d do it.
“Hey, if they so much as look at those kids, I’ll be right alongside you telling Wolven about them. Okay?”
“It won’t be Wolven, Holly. It’ll be me. Sister or not.” Cat’s voice had taken on the utter ruthlessness that had been instilled in her by witnessing the slaughter of her parents. Holly couldn’t help but shudder at what Cat would do to protect her children.
“Just remember to listen tonight, okay? Weigh support group against radical cult when they talk and make your own choice. For your sake, and theirs, I hope it’s just a nice, friendly group.”
She couldn’t possibly realize how much Holly hoped that too.
THE SUN WAS just setting behind the tailing hills as she reached the far edge of town. She’d taken her time walking, admiring the stunning opals displayed in shop windows—wishing she could afford the ones she liked. There was something about the ones they called painted ladies that she loved. Her favorites were the really red ones with blue flashes. Apparently, a painted lady find a few years back had caused a mining rush that was still going on. It was probably what had brought Dale here.
Once she left the paved main roads, the dirt underfoot began to sparkle in the sun’s fading rays. She found herself scuffing her feet to watch the glitter swirl in the wind—like standing in the middle of a snow globe. One of the store owners had called the gleaming bits oelic, the equivalent of fool’s gold. Pretty, but worthless.
The address Rose had given her wasn’t what led her to the house. It was the landscaping that screamed of her sister’s touch. Rose had always loved xeriscape plants, and the drought-resistant flowers that tumbled from nooks and crannies in the piles of stone spoke of her skill. There was nothing else like it around—a tiny bit of paradise in the sweltering heat. Old, concrete-coated wheelbarrows bloomed with desert paintbrush and purple ice plants, while a discarded bathtub overflowed with delicately scented moss roses. One rather strong odor made her wrinkle her nose. She knew that creosote was a desert plant and had heard it was pretty, but it smelled like old railroad ties.
She glanced at her watch. It was eight o’clock on the nose and yet she hesitated just at the edge of the property, staring at the cars parked near the staircase that she presumed led down to the front door. A window at ground height had been opened and she could hear voices and laughter drifting into the coming twilight.
A woman’s voice that sounded just like Char186’s podcasts rose over the others. “I just love those purple flowers outside! What did you say they were called?”
Then a man’s baritone. “Hey, Tom. You know of anyone that’s got an alternator for my ute? It’s a ’seventy-three, and the shop can’t find one.”
A tenor was laughing. “For a ’seventy-three? You jokin’? I heard the Rex is denying seats to galahs now. I think you might qualify.” Everybody laughed. Not evil laughs . . . just warm and friendly ones that spoke of good friends at a party. She shook her head at her own paranoia.
I’m being ridiculous. These people are my friends. Cat was right. Either they would support her, or they wouldn’t. She could always leave and go visit another city if she wasn’t welcome here. There was nothing to keep her.
She squared her shoulders and walked to
ward the stairs. The breeze dusted her nose again with creosote and she wound up in a sneezing fit just as she reached the door. The laughing stopped and then the door swung open so fast that she had to turn her head to keep from spraying snot all over her sister.
“Holly! C’mere, you!” Rose reached for her in a rush. Holly barely managed to stop sneezing long enough to give her big sister a hug. After a tight squeeze, Rose pulled back and held her at arm’s length. “Gorgeous hair, perfect skin, and still as skinny as ever. God, I hate you.” But her scent was pure love and happiness—sugar sweet, like an early morning donut shop.
Holly laughed. “I missed you too.”
Rose turned to the group seated in the tastefully decorated room carved into the pale, cool earth and grinned as she put an arm around Holly’s shoulders. “Look, guys! The meatspace convention is complete! LittleSis is here!”
It’s been a long time since I’ve heard myself called that. LittleSis was her screen name from the FMU forum, and she was amazed at how many faces lit up at the announcement. She was quickly surrounded by people, and overwhelmed by scents and faces. Familiar handles were shouted out so fast she could barely keep track, and she had no hope of matching them to faces. In addition to Char, Birdofprey, Hissyfit, Nobodystoady, and DickODoom gave a shout-out. In fact, only two people didn’t come to greet her. An older, heavyset black woman with silver hair glared at her from her spot on the couch. And a youngish Middle Eastern man sat primly, tucked far into the corner, out of the way and alone. He looked like he’d had a stroke. Half of his face drooped. Holly noticed that nobody was including him in the conversations. They weren’t even glancing his way. She figured that she should take that as a hint. Maybe he was sensitive about his condition. She tried to smell what might be wrong with him, but there was no scent of sickness about him.