by Eileen Wilks
Sorting out Toby’s most recent trail wouldn’t be easy, not with his scent everywhere. Rule trotted to the gate first . . . and paused, surprised.
Toby had marked the grass beside the gate—marked it as if he were wolf already, with a few drops of urine.
Alarm spiked. Until that moment, Rule had been annoyed, not worried. Boys will sneak out. Lupus boys in particular feel a need to taste the night, and at Clanhome that wasn’t a problem. They were taught always to mark their trails in case they got in trouble. But why would Toby practice this in the midst of the human world?
Obviously he meant for Rule to follow. As to the why . . . Rule thought he knew, but had to be sure Toby hadn’t been coerced somehow. He checked the grass again, sniffing up along the gate for the touch of hands other than Toby’s.
Toby’s trail was fresh, no more than a couple of hours old, and Rule didn’t find any other traces as recent. He paused and, as he had in the woods something over twenty hours ago, he shifted something in his focus, bringing the mantles into the mix of sensory impressions.
Scents immediately sharpened. And no, Toby hadn’t been afraid when he passed this way. So Toby wanted his father to find him; he wasn’t afraid, yet he hadn’t told Rule. Either he’d been sure Rule would forbid whatever action he’d taken, or he’d given his word not to tell.
Rule was betting on the latter. He lifted onto his rear legs, nosed the latch, and dropped back onto four feet as the gate swung open onto an unpaved alley. He picked up Toby’s scent immediately and started west. Lily followed silently, carrying his clothes.
He’d nearly told her not to come.
The wolf snorted, disgusted. If his motives had been clear, he’d have nothing to condemn himself for. Lily was tired, too, her human system probably as wrung out as his by a day that had started at four a.m. and just kept going, a day spent wading through violence and bureaucracy. But his motives were murky as hell.
Well, to the man they had been. Considered from the vantage of a wolf’s brain, his motives were as obvious as they were foolish. Rule found the next spot Toby had marked, glanced at Lily and nodded to let her know they were on Toby’s trail, and trotted on down the alley.
When Lily said she was coming, Rule had noticed the dirty wash of resentment in time to stifle it. He’d nodded, accepting that of course Lily would go with him. It was practical, of course—there were many places a wolf couldn’t go, and a naked man sometimes alarmed people more than a wolf, which they might take for a large dog. It was also typical of Lily. She’d already made room for Toby in her heart and was busily making room for him in her life.
All of which was what he’d wanted . . . and part of him resented her. Part of him—a thoroughly human part he’d tried to ignore into nonexistence—didn’t want her intruding on his relationship with Toby.
The wolf thought this was very silly. But he supposed it wouldn’t go away just because he had better sense in this form than in the other.
They reached a street empty of traffic and crossed quickly. A quick check confirmed Rule’s first guess—Toby had proceeded down the alley. They did, too.
Rule knew where the resentment came from. Now that he’d recognized it, that was obvious. He’d been raised without a mother, hadn’t he? Technically, at least. In practice he’d been mothered by virtually every woman living at Clanhome, dispersing the feminine ideal through a dozen loving lenses, leaving him with an idealized version of motherhood . . . soft-focus, unreal . . . too unreal, he saw now, to have come between him and his father. Or between him and his son.
Lily was extremely real. He stopped beside another gate and sighed. She would expect him to talk about this, and man and wolf both disliked that notion.
“Something wrong?” Lily whispered.
Nothing they could deal with now. He shook his head . . . and prepared to Change yet again.
NINETEEN
SOMETHING crawled across Toby’s ankle—he noticed because he hadn’t bothered with socks. He flicked it off with his finger. “I can’t just stay here.”
“I know, but . . . a little longer.” Talia huddled her long, skinny arms closer around her knees. Talia was two years older than him and Justin, and four inches taller. Toby liked her pretty well, even if she had started painting her fingernails lately and worrying about her hair.
There was just enough breeze to keep the leaves whispering tree secrets to each other. That was good. Toby didn’t like it when the tree house—which was just a platform, really, without any sides, but they all called it the tree house—got to swaying because the branches started moving.
Funny how steady trees looked from the ground, he thought. Get up in one and it was never entirely still.
“We’ve got to come up with a plan,” Justin said firmly.
“Come up with a plan,” Toby muttered. “Sure. You go first, since you don’t like my ideas.”
“We can’t tell them!” Justin forgot and let his voice get a little loud, and Talia shushed him, looking back at the house. “Toby, you know what my folks are like.”
“Yeah. They’re nice. I like them.”
“Well, duh! But they’re just stupid about this sort of thing.” Justin waved a hand in the general direction of his sister. “You know that. They’re all creeped out about you now, too, since you’ve been on the news and all, and that makes it worse.”
Shit. Toby tested the word in his mind, found he liked the weight of it, and tried it aloud. “Shit. They saw that stupid news deal about the custody hearing, huh?”
“Toby.” Talia could put more frown into a whisper than anyone else Toby knew. “Don’t you be cursing.”
Justin broke off a little twig growing out from the trunk. “Everybody’s seen it. Everybody in the whole country, I bet.”
“You’d think they’d be paying attention to people getting shot, not to the stuff about me.” Toby hadn’t seen much when it happened because of the way his dad had pushed him down. He’d glimpsed Dad Changing in midair, heard the scary-big blast of the gun. The people screaming. Lily’s voice all crisp and fierce telling him and Grammy to stay down, don’t move.
He hadn’t really seen much at all. So why did it stick with him so hard? Toby’s stomach felt tight and unhappy. He swallowed.
Justin and Talia looked at each other.
“What?” Toby scowled when they didn’t answer. “You’d better tell me.”
“Nothin’.” Justin gave all his attention to stripping the leaves off his twig.
“He might as well know.” Talia eased her hunch. “Daddy thinks the shooting was about you. He says Mr. Hodge went crazy because he found out what you are and was trying to shoot you, or maybe your dad and you both, only he’s a real bad shot.”
Toby sat up straight. “That’s not right. That’s not right at all. Talia, you know better. You have to tell—”
“I can’t! If they find out—”
“I’m afraid,” said a deep, sympathetic voice from the ground below them, “you are going to have to tell.”
Talia yipped as if she were the lupus. Justin shot to his feet so fast he hit his head on the branch over him. Toby turned and peered over the edge of the platform, feeling about a hundred pounds lighter. “Hi, Dad. That’s my dad,” he added to his friends. “I guess I’m in trouble?”
“Some,” Dad said, keeping his voice low. “I think you should all climb down now. I could come up there, but I’m tired. And I don’t think Lily is in the mood for tree-climbing.”
Lily? He’d brought her along? Toby frowned, trying to see past all the leaves, not sure how he felt about Lily being here. Probably just as well, he decided. Lily was who Talia needed to talk to, anyway. “Okay.”
Justin grabbed his arm. “No.”
“What’s the matter? You scared to go down there with the big, bad werewolf?”
Justin shook his head hard but said nothing. It was Talia who answered. “Well, I’m going down. I bet none of them will come around Toby’s dad.”
That persuaded Justin. A few moments later, Toby stood with Talia on one side, Justin on the other, facing his father and Lily. They did not look happy with him.
“I assume your friends asked you to give your word not to tell,” Dad said in that quiet voice that might make some people think he wasn’t mad, but Toby knew better.
“Yes, sir. Well, I gave my word about Talia’s secret a long time—” Justin poked his side. Toby gave him an exasperated look. “He heard us talking. He knows there’s something we aren’t telling, so he knows there’s a secret.” He looked back at his dad. “But even though they don’t have to keep my secret anymore, I still have to keep theirs. Because I promised.”
Dad nodded, agreeing. Toby had known he would, about that part of it. “Yet that doesn’t explain why you sneaked out of the house.”
“That,” Toby said, “was a judgment call.”
Lily made a little choked sound but didn’t say anything, and Dad just waited, so Toby rushed ahead. “See, Justin’s got a cell phone, but I don’t, so I bought one of those phones where you buy minutes? So Justin could call me sometimes. And he called tonight and it was sort of an emergency, so I made a judgment to come like he asked. Only you can’t tell if it was a good judgment or a bad one unless they say I can tell the secret, or if they tell you themselves. Which they ought to.” He bent a frown on Justin and Talia.
Lily spoke in that quiet way she had that wasn’t like Dad’s quiet voice, but still made you want to listen, like what she said was probably important. “Maybe you could start by introducing us to your friends.”
Toby flushed. Proper introductions were one thing lupi and Grammy agreed about, and he’d completely forgotten. “Oh, yeah. Dad, Lily, this is Justin and Talia Appleton. Justin and Talia, this is my dad, Rule Turner, and his mate, Lily Yu.” Wait—was he supposed to say mate?
Toby frowned unhappily. He wasn’t.
“Pleased to meet you, Talia, Justin.” Dad glanced at Lily. “Perhaps we should sit down and discuss the situation.”
Justin and his sister exchanged a disbelieving look. They weren’t used to adults wanting to have a discussion when rules were broken. Mostly the adults they knew just ganged up together, and kids were not allowed to have secrets. “Okay. C’mon, sit down. He’ll listen to you,” Toby encouraged his friends.
“Does that mean you aren’t going to tell my folks?” Talia said.
“I don’t know yet. That’s one of the things we must discuss.”
So everyone sat in a circle on the grass, which was cool and damp and smelled great. There was plenty of light from the moon, almost overhead now and three-quarters full.
“First,” Dad said, looking at Justin, “will your parents be upset if they find Toby here?”
Justin grimaced. “They’ll be mad we were outside without permission. And that I called him. They . . .” He gave Toby a look, apologizing. “They’re bent out of shape that he’s, you know, lupus. They didn’t know until it was on the news.”
Dad nodded. “I assume they’d be even more upset if they found me here, so if they should come out, I’ll leave before they see me. Now, Talia. You have a secret you’re afraid to entrust to your parents.”
She nodded warily.
“This secret made you want Toby to come over tonight without permission.”
Another nod.
“Toby, does Talia’s secret involve anything criminal or dangerous to herself or others?”
“Not criminal! But . . . well, there’s a danger, but it isn’t a life-and-death thing. It’s . . .” He spread his hands. “It’s about her.”
Lily spoke quietly. “Talia has a Gift, doesn’t she? One you believe your parents would disapprove of.”
No one said anything for a minute. Then Talia sighed real big. “I guess I’d better tell you. They want me to, anyway.”
“They?”
“The ghosts.” Talia’s long face seemed paler than normal in the moonlight, and tight, as if her muscles were trying to close her up. “They won’t leave me alone lately. They keep after me and after me, and the newest ones . . .” She stopped, gulped.
“I see. You’re a medium.” Lily didn’t look shocked, but Toby hadn’t figured she would be. “That’s a tricky Gift. And your parents don’t approve?”
Justin broke in. “They don’t know, and they’re not going to! They’ve always been down on magic, see, but ever since the Turning . . . that Reverend Barnes is all the time preaching against it now. He says anyone who consorts with spirits is dealing with the devil, but it isn’t like that! Talia can’t help it!”
“No, she can’t, not at her age and without any training. Talia, are these ghosts trying to, ah—to speak through you?”
“I don’t want them to.” Talia was near tears, which made her sound mad. She hated to cry. “There’s always been some of them around. I’d see them, or I’d hear them whispering in my mind, but it wasn’t a big deal. But ever since the Turning there’s been more, and now there’s these new ones, and they’re awful. They scream inside my mind and they won’t go away. And I can’t fix things for them, I can’t! That’s why I needed Toby to come over. They stay away when he’s around.”
Lily gave Dad a surprised look, her eyebrows lifted like “What?” Dad shook his head. “I don’t know. I never heard of ghosts having an aversion for us.”
“Hmm.” Lily turned back to Talia. “I suspect you’re seeing more ghosts since the Turning because your Gift is stronger now. That happened to some people once there was more magic around. Will you let me take your hand?” She smiled. “I’m a sensitive. I can make a guess about how strong your Gift is.”
Talia scowled and looked down at her feet. She picked at one toenail, then another. At last she shrugged. “I guess it won’t hurt.” She held out her hand.
Lily clasped it. “Oh, yes, you have quite a strong Gift. No wonder those ghosts are driving you crazy. Are there any around now?”
“I told you—they don’t show up when Toby’s here. I guess Mr. Turner would keep them away, too.”
“Okay.” Lily released her hand. “But Toby can’t be with you all the time, can he?”
“Maybe if I tell you what they want me to, they’ll go away.”
“They want you to tell me something? Me, specifically?”
“Well . . . he didn’t describe you very politely, but I’m pretty sure he meant you. The tall man, I mean. He’s the oldest ghost and he usually makes more sense than the others, but I think people talked a lot different back when he was alive.” Her face tightened in a scowl. “At first he called me ‘little darkie,’ but I made him quit. I don’t care if that’s what everyone said back then. People kept slaves then, too, and that was wrong. Though he says he didn’t have any slaves, but I think that’s because he was poor, not because he knew it was wrong.”
“He’s been a ghost a long time,” Lily murmured.
“Uh-huh. Now he calls me ‘little ’un.’ He can’t say my name. I don’t know if that’s a rule or if they can’t remember names, not even for a minute, but none of the ghosts ever say names. Anyway, he’s the one who said I was to tell you.”
“Okay. What do they want you to tell me?”
“About him. The one who . . . I guess he’s the one killing people. They said he’s making ghosts, and that’s what they call him—the ghost-maker. So I guess they mean he’s killing people. Only there’s more than one killer, isn’t there? So that doesn’t make sense. Ghosts usually don’t.”
“Is that exactly what they said?” Lily’s voice was soft, like Grammy’s was when Toby had had a bad dream. “That this ‘he’ is making ghosts, not that he killed them?”
“Ghosts won’t talk about death. Sometimes they’ll say what happened to make them ghosts, sometimes they won’t, but they won’t ever say they died. They want you to stop him. The little girl says he’s
real cold, always cold. Her brother doesn’t talk—he’s really fuzzy—and she mostly cries, but she did say that. And their mom keeps saying, ‘He doesn’t know,’ over and over, looking at me like it’s important. I think I was supposed to tell you that. And the tall man . . . he said they’re scared. They’re all scared, not just the new ones.”
“They?”
“The ghosts. They’re scared of him, whoever he is.”
“I understand that they can’t or won’t use names, but did they describe him in any way?”
Talia’s mouth twisted. “I asked and asked, but ghosts are pretty stupid. They just keep telling me the same stuff again and again. And ‘help me.’” Her eyes glistened, but her jaw set stubbornly. “They say that, too, and sometimes they cry. Not the tall man, but some of them cry a lot. I hate that. But the new ones . . . they’re the worst. They started screaming in my head tonight, and it’s like . . . like they’re ripping at my brain. It’s horrible.”
Lily reached for Talia’s hand. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to live with this. It’s more than many adults could handle. Is this screaming a physical pain?”
“No, but—but it feels so awful.”
Lily nodded. “Pain doesn’t have to be physical to be real. These new ghosts . . . I need you to tell me how many there are, and what’s different about them.”
“Five. The boy and girl and their mom—they’re the ones whose dad killed them. I’m pretty sure about that, though they won’t say. And the two newest ones got shot today.”
“I see. And they’re different from the others?”
Talia nodded. “Usually it’s the old ones who get all wispy, like crumpled tissues. They sort of wear out. Except the tall man—he’s old, but he’s still clear, and he makes more sense than most of them. I don’t know why. But these . . . they’re new, but they’re fuzzy and tattered, as if they were real old. And they scream at me. The rest don’t do that.” Talia’s mouth quivered into a smile. “You don’t think I’m crazy? Or—or possessed, or making things up?”