by L. C. Davis
She hesitated. “I'm glad you did. If that is what's happening, we can rule out a more serious cause. Go get Clarence, would you?”
“Of course,” I said, opening the door to find him perched on the edge of the sofa outside, holding his head in his massive hands. As soon as he heard the door, he leaped to his feet. “Clara wants you,” I said, motioning for him to follow me in.
By the time we made it inside, Hunter was sleeping with an only slightly distressed expression on his face and a fresh set of sheets and blankets covered his chest up to the red mark over his heart. It had already stopped bleeding for the most part. I shut the door and watched as Clarence hovered over the bed, watching Hunter fearfully like he might shatter if he breathed too hard.
“Is he okay?”
“He's stable for the moment, but I'm trying to figure out what's going on,” said Clara. “Do you recognize the mark on his chest?”
He squinted at it in confusion and shook his head.
“It's not yours?” she asked doubtfully. “You're sure?”
“Positive,” he said. A possessive rumble built in his chest. “Mine is a willow tree, I saw it in my vision.”
Clara and I exchanged a worried glance.
“You'd better not be saying someone else did this to him,” he growled, clenching his fists. “I'll fucking kill them.”
“You might find that difficult,” I said softly.
“And why is that?”
“Because if that's not your mark, the only other option is that the ritual did work. Maybe better than he was counting on,” I said.
“What are you saying, Remus?” Clara asked warily. “Do you know whose mark it is?”
“Before we started, Hunter called on the moon,” I said, taking a deep breath. Great. I was proselytizing to a likely skeptic and a medical professional on behalf of a supernatural entity I wasn't even sure existed. “He's marked in the same place he staked the sacrifice. I think this is Her way of answering his call.”
“That seems a bit of a stretch, even under the current circumstances,” Clara said, washing the blood off her hands in the sink.
“You weren't there,” Clarence said, jumping to my defense. “The candles blew out and the door slammed shut. Something was definitely in here with us and it wasn't a person. Hell, Sebastian came in and fucked up the sacrifice, he probably let some demon inside, or something worse. Maybe that's who did this to him.”
“Clarence, I can't believe you of all people are indulging this fantastical nonsense,” Clara scolded. “You're supposed to be helping Foster work through his issues, not converting to his cult.”
“Do you have a better explanation for how that fucking mark got carved into Hunter's chest while everyone was watching?” he protested.
Clara's argument sparked an idea. “None of us do,” I said. “But I know someone who might.”
Clara eyed me dubiously. “You can't be serious.”
“If my theory is right, Foster will recognize that symbol on sight,” I said. “We'll do it like an experiment and have Ulric go get him. I have no psychic link with him and he has no idea what's been said in this room. If I'm wrong, that's one more thing we can rule out to get closer to helping Hunter. If I'm right --”
“If you're right, I'm going to need a drink and a very long vacation,” Clara muttered, her heels clicking on the tile as she walked to the door. “Ulric? Hunter is stable for now, but please find Foster. He seems to have misplaced my blood pressure monitor the last time he used it and I need him to show me where it is.”
She came back into the room and shut the door, giving us both a blank look. “And now we wait.”
Clarence wasn't listening. He was still standing over Hunter's bed, brushing a few strands of matted white hair away from the other wolf's face. He jumped a little when I touched his arm.
“I'm sorry for telling Clara,” I said softly.
He shook his head. “I'm glad you did. His safety comes first. I'm the one who let him down. I never should have let him do this.”
“Doing the ritual was important to him, Clarence,” I reminded him gently. “He sees this as the only way to avenge his pack. You would have been letting him down if you'd tried to stop him.”
The door flew open and Foster came in wearing blue-and-white striped pajamas. His light blond hair was a mess like he'd just woken up and he was panting from the exertion of running downstairs. “I left the machine in the cupboard like always, Clara, I swear!”
Clara ushered the boy into the room and shut the door. “I know, sweetie, and I'm sorry for the ruse but I needed an excuse to get you down here. I need you to take a look at something,” she said, leading him over to the bed. Clarence stepped aside for him.
He looked at all of us in confusion and eyed me with the same wary gaze as usual. “What happened?” The implication was, “What did he do?”
“Just an accident. Look at the symbol on Hunter's chest.” she said, holding his shoulders to keep him looking ahead.
Foster's entire demeanor shifted in an instant. Surprise hardened into shock and faded into a strange mix of confusion and anger. “That's not possible.”
“What is it, Foster?” Clara asked, growing uneasy at his reaction.
“It's Her symbol,” he whispered.
“Whose?” she asked, almost wincing.
“Hers,” he hissed. It was the first time I'd seen him angry. The confirmation didn't provide the relief I had hoped it would in light of his strange reaction. Even Clarence seemed confused.
“Foster, this is very important to me,” he said, placing his hands on the boy's arm. “Please tell me whatever you can. What does it mean? Is he in danger?”
Foster's anger softened, but he looked more crestfallen than ever as he held his mentor's gaze. “It means She's chosen him as one of Her priests. It's not a danger, it's an incredible honor.”
Clarence's shoulders relaxed and a look of pure elation came into his eyes. “So he's going to be okay?”
“Nothing will touch him now,” Foster said gravely. “Not even the hunters. He's been ushered into the divine family, mortal only to the gods.”
“I need a drink,” Clara muttered, wandering over to her desk to pull out a bottle of scotch. She pondered the empty glass on her desk for a moment but decided on the bottle.
“You seem reluctant, Foster,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Is there any downside to this?”
“No,” he said, giving me a small smile that didn't even make an effort to reach his eyes. “Not for one truly devoted to Her service.”
“And what does being devoted entail?” I asked, beginning to realize that Foster was very much like a search engine. He was full of information, but you had to know exactly which keywords to use in order to get any answer out of him that was worthwhile.
“Well, Her priests provide guidance and assistance to other supernaturals,” he said. “They usually don't take mates so they can fully devote themselves to her work, but it's not forbidden.”
Clarence seemed particularly interested in that piece of information, but he mostly just seemed relieved by the knowledge that Hunter was going to be okay.
“How did this happen?” I asked. “What determines who gets the mark?”
“It's usually given as a result of years of devotion and worship,” he said a bit sadly. “In rare cases, an act of extreme bravery, selflessness or sacrifice can warrant a calling.”
Clarence and I exchanged glances. “The ritual,” we said in unison.
His face brightened. “I knew it would work. I knew something big was going to happen.”
“We don't know yet for sure,” I said.
His eyes widened. “Oh, it worked. The mark is proof of that.”
“Thank you, Foster,” said Clara. “You can return upstairs.”
He nodded and seemed eager to leave the room. Clarence's focus was solely on Hunter or I would have asked him about the boy's strange behavior. Instead, I turned to Clara. �
�Is there anything I can do? Should I check on Maverick while you tend to him?”
“No, Maverick is upstairs with Brendan,” she said, watching the pair. “Looks like I have another assistant anyway. You go and take care of whatever that mess is out there while I reevaluate my life choices.”
I smiled a little. “Alright. Goodnight, Clara,” I said, slipping from the room unnoticed by Clarence. He was a man obsessed and there was no doubt in my mind that if Hunter needed anything, he would respond before anyone else had the chance.
“What's going on?” asked Victor.
“Is he okay?” asked Sebastian.
“Foster seemed upset when he left,” Ulric said with a worried frown.
To my relief, the vampire's body had been removed. As to what they had done with it, I didn't want to know. The rest of the ritual artifacts, however, remained exactly as they were.
“Hunter is fine. We just needed Foster to identify the mark carved into his chest during the ritual.”
“Mark?” Victor frowned.
“It's not what you think. Foster says the moon chose him as Her priest during the ritual,” I explained. “He recognized the symbol right away.”
Sebastian was the only one out of the group who didn't look surprised. As the dream had taught me, he was a true believer.
“And what of the ritual?” Ulric asked warily.
“According to Foster, it worked.”
“And what do you think?” Victor asked, stroking my hair.
I sighed and looked around the room. “I think we've got a big mess to clean up.”
“About that,” Victor said sheepishly. “We started to clean but then we weren't sure if touching anything was going to bring down the wrath of the evil spirits.” I could tell there was a hint of sincerity under his sarcasm.
“Yeah, what're we supposed to do with all this?” asked Sebastian. Even Uric was watching me expectantly.
“How should I know?” I asked, planting my hands on my hips. “You think I'm an expert on witchcraft and ghosts just because I'm a 'gypsy'?”
Their silence spoke volumes and I rolled my eyes. “I didn't even believe in ghosts last year never mind vampires, werewolves and full moon rituals. Hell, I grew up in Texas. Ulric, you especially should know better.”
“Well, your mother was knowledgeable about this kind of thing,” he said defensively. I didn't miss the strange look that came over Sebastian when he mentioned Sarah.
“In case none of you have noticed, Sarah and I aren't exactly on speaking terms ever since Victor put a stake through her temporal lobe,” I reminded them. “Foster and Hunter are the resident spiritualists,” I said, grabbing a trash bag from the box they had left out. I picked up a candle and tossed it in, rolling my eyes at the tense reaction the action garnered. “These are just tools Hunter used to connect to the Moon Mother or whatever, they're powerless now that the ritual has run its course.”
“Never thought I'd be getting a lecture on moon worship from a vampire,” Sebastian said in a dry tone.
I gave him a look as I separated Hunter's tools from the trash. “Yeah, well, I never thought I'd be living in a house full of werewolves, so we're even.”
“I didn't think I'd be seeing you again so soon,” Victor said to Sebastian. “Or at all.”
“Aw, come on, brother. You didn't think I'd leave the Lodge at your mercy, did you?” Sebastian asked, giving Victor's back a passive-aggressive hit.
“A man can dream.”
Sebastian looked like he was about to say something but caught a glimpse of my silent pleading and shut his mouth.
“If you'll excuse me, I have some things to tend to before it gets too late,” Ulric said, looking sternly at Sebastian. “I expect to see you in my study first thing in the morning with an explanation. Make it a good one.”
Sebastian saluted half-heartedly. “Yes, Sir.”
Ulric frowned but headed upstairs, evidently too tired to bother with him. It was a relief. The night had already raised too many questions for all of us, some of which I wasn't prepared to deal with just yet.
“I'm not waiting until tomorrow,” Victor said, giving Sebastian a hard shove. “You owe me answers now, starting with where the hell you've been.”
“You're not the alpha yet,” said Sebastian. “I don't owe you shit.”
“You're going to tell me how you knew about the ritual,” Victor said firmly.
Sebastian smirked. “Now that you can ask him,” he said, nodding to me.
I withered under Victor's watchful gaze. “Remus?” he asked expectantly once he realized I wasn't going to volunteer the answer.
“He, um, appeared in my dream. Like you did that time,” I admitted, leaving out a few details.
Victor's eyes narrowed. “That's not possible. Sebastian isn't a psychic.”
I could only shrug.
“Guess he just missed me,” said Sebastian, giving me a firm pat on the back. I glared at him. “Anyway, once I heard about his latest plans to become a martyr and realized you're just 'noble' enough to let him go through with it, I knew I had to intervene. You guys really fall apart when I'm gone, don't you?”
Well, at least he wasn't saying anything about the mark. For the moment.
“Of all the vampires in the world you had to bring him?” I demanded, eager to change the subject.
“Hey, if either of you had filled me in on who he was back in Austin that son of a bitch never would have taken another breath,” he said, shoving Victor. “Which brings me to the latest bone I have to pick with you, brother.”
Victor staggered back a foot or so and looked vaguely annoyed. “Let's not go down that path, brother. You won't like where it leads.”
“I never do when it comes to you,” he muttered. “What the hell is wrong with you? That sick fuck watched while those vampires --” his gaze flickered to me and he hesitated for a moment. If there was any doubt in my mind that Sebastian finally knew all the backstory from that night, it was gone now. “You know what he did to Remus and you just let him go?”
“You think that was easy for me?” Victor seethed. “You think I didn't want to gouge out his fucking eyes and rip him into pieces until there was nothing left to tear apart? If any of this was about giving him what he deserved, being staked is a fate far too kind. It was never about that.”
“No, it's about respecting the judgment of someone who would probably slit his own throat just because he doesn't think he deserves the air he breathes,” Sebastian snapped.
“Hey, still in the room,” I said, waving my hands.
They ignored me.
“Oh, you're one to talk,” Victor said with a dry laugh. “You abandoned him the second you realized he was a vampire. You want to tell me I should decide what's best for him when you just cut and run the second things get messy? For the third time, I might add. Who was there to guide him when you had your little tantrum in the forest after marking him? And what about this latest episode, running off when the pack needed you? That's just typical Sebastian, throwing a fit and storming off as soon as someone else picks up the toy he cast aside.”
Ouch.
Sebastian took a menacing step towards him and Victor showed no sign of backing down. “Go ahead, hit me. I understand. Words were never really your strong suit,” he sneered.
The larger wolf clenched his fists and hesitated. I was about to get in between them for what seemed like the millionth time before he relaxed and shook his head. “I fucked up,” he said, casting me a rueful look. “Lots of times and in lots of ways, but my biggest fuck-up was just giving up and letting you win. See, unlike you, that's not really my style,” he said, looking Victor up and down appraisingly. “Not when the cost is this high.”
Sebastian looked at me again and my heart thundered. Was he going to tell Victor about the mark? He seemed to read my thoughts and he winked at me.
“So you're here to try and win him back,” Victor said, chuckling. “Of course you are. I knew bowing ou
t gracefully was too dignified for you. He's not a stuffed animal at a carnival booth, Sebastian, he's a person. We're not going to throw baseballs at milk bottles until one of us wins him.”
“Sounds like you're scared to compete against me, brother,” Sebastian said in a jeering tone. “Could it be because you know you'll lose?”
Victor scoffed. “It's more about the fact that I'm not twelve. Remus is free to choose whomever he wants, just as he always has been.”
I went to Victor's side to show my support and gave Sebastian a worried look. “He's right, Sebastian. What we had is in the past,” I said pointedly. “Nothing is going to change that, supernatural or otherwise.”
He laughed. “You think that's where I've been? Learning voodoo love spells to win you back?”
“It had crossed my mind.”
He rolled his eyes. “I don't need magic to win you back, and I don't need some mark either,” he said, holding my gaze intently. “I won your heart once the old fashioned way and I can do it again.”
“By all means,” said Victor. “I should warn you that this isn't like all those times you 'won' against me when we were children. He's not a toy or a playmate, and I'm not just going to hand him over to make you happy. If you think you're really the one who can love and protect and satisfy him best, then he deserves to be with you, but it will have to be by his choice,” he said coolly. “I'm not terribly concerned.”
“You can't be serious,” I muttered. “This isn't up for discussion. Victor, I—there's something Sebastian isn't telling you and it's something I didn't know how to tell you myself.”
He watched me carefully. “What is it, Remus? You know you can tell me anything.”
I could, but that didn't mean I would like the results. Knowing that there was no other option, not now that he had practically given Sebastian license to date me without knowing there was another mark in play, I resigned myself to the task. Sebastian was staring at me like I'd lost my mind.
“Sebastian claims his mark has resurfaced and I have reason to believe him,” I blurted out.