“Why? So you can rehabilitate him into this little club of yours?”
The Elder laughed again, but there was no humor in it this time. “Oh, no. This is an older story than yours. And it will explain much of what you need to know…if you get there first.”
“You mean…?”
“Speaking to him before Kane kills him, yes.”
The bluntness stopped me cold. This was his offer, then. If I caught the feral and—what, interrogated him, I guess, I’d get my answers about what was wrong with me and how to fix it? But I had to do it before Mr. Creepy downstairs carried out a death sentence? I must have looked incredulous.
The Elder’s rebuttal was not what I expected.
He surged out of his chair, seizing my shoulder with one hand and my face with the other. I gasped, my knees buckling, but he still had enough strength to hold me upright. A tiny shard of glass, still imbedded in his palm, scored my skin open, and the sharp pain of it startled my mind open. Then he smudged one wounded thumb across the cut.
Memories pass through the blood, he said. Take what I have of him. And then take what you can from him.
He truly was insane. What I saw was nothing as controlled as Ilsa’s mental show-and-tell. This was years of jumbled chaos that hit me all at once. I couldn’t even tell one memory from the other. But somewhere in the horrifying cloud, I saw a man’s face.
Find him, the Elder commanded.
He let go of me without ceremony. This time I did fall over, so hard I cracked vertebrae on the way down. For a few seconds, I couldn’t move. All of my worst fears were coming to life. Every time I changed, I worried about this—that I’d sever something, screw it up past fixing. I fought to breathe, then wailed despite myself, because the fiery flashes of nerves mending themselves hurt like absolute hell.
By the time I could see straight again, I could tell the Elder wasn’t much better off. He was gasping with exertion and stumbling backward. Ayu crouched frozen between us, like she couldn’t decide who to help. The Elder solved it for her.
“Ayu,” he whispered. “I…diverted Ilsa, so she wouldn’t listen to us. Told her…we had an uninvited visitor. Go help Raoul.”
My question came out in a painful yelp. “You sent Ilsa after Lacey?”
He faced me, furious.
“No matter how broken this pack is, we protect our own. As long as I’m still breathing, I will keep it safe. If you must stand by your friend instead, and you think you can hide us from her…then I suggest you run.”
With that, he slumped back into the bed. His air wheezed in and out in shallow whines. Ayu seized his hand, watching in desperate concern.
Then she backed away, and without any comment, started taking off her clothes.
I didn’t mean to stare, but let’s face it, that was a hell of a take on bedside manner. It wasn’t meant as a strip show, though. She was brisk and matter-of-fact, yanking her dress over her head, peeling her stockings off, undoing the gravity-defying pigtails. It was like watching her shed her entire social shell. What was left was fierce, dangerous, and both more and less human than she’d been when she’d begun.
Within a few seconds, she was a whole lot less human.
The worst thing about it was how fast it was. It was absolutely unfair. I knew what that felt like—every pop and wrench and tearing muscle—and Ayu didn’t even flinch. Before I knew it, I was watching another fully-formed werewolf for the first time since I was eight years old and screaming. And she wasn’t in the least bit of pain.
All she did was growl low in her throat, a sound that unmistakably meant, Hurry up, before she leaped for the open window.
I scrambled towards it, grabbing anything I could—the Elder’s toppled chair, a bookcase, the windowsill—to help support me. Once I made it, I could see Ayu’s silver-tipped form below; she’d landed with ease and was already running off into the trees.
I couldn’t even imagine copying that move. All I could do was wheel around and throw myself—sort of literally—down the stairs.
I didn’t think anyone would be left in the house after all this commotion. I was wrong. In the fire-lit room were three silhouettes. They obviously weren’t human, and they were just as obviously waiting for me. They almost immediately started pressing forward, trying to herd me back upstairs. To stay inside. To stay in line.
I guess there’s one advantage to still having human hands, though. That would be the ability to work door handles.
Adrenaline powered me past the wolves and through the front door before anyone could stop me. I slammed it shut so hard I know I whacked someone’s nose in the process. I tumbled off the porch, nearly ending up on all fours myself, then followed Ayu’s pathway into the woods.
I slid and skidded and got mud and leaves and God knew what else plastered all over me, and I both popped my elbow out of joint and snapped it back in while trying to catch myself. The wolves ahead were baying, and I could hear more coming. They’d all made it outside.
All I could do was hope that Cee had had the good sense to get out of here.
Then I saw her car, and the enormous wolf crouched on its hood. I recognized him from Ilsa’s memories. It was Kane.
Instinct moved me faster then than I’d managed in ten years.
I grabbed the nearest thing I could, only noticing afterward what I’d done. I’d ripped a branch off the nearest tree. One weird side effect of being a werewolf—on occasion, even I get uncommonly strong. So I used that energy while I had it to heave the branch at Kane. If it had struck its target, it would have done serious damage.
However, it missed. Another werewolf leaped up, catching the damn thing in its mouth.
I heard Cee let out a shriek. I howled too, but in dismay. I was sure the interloper was protecting Kane. But then the wolf dropped the branch, rounded on the car and growled. The growl wasn’t at Cee—it was at Kane.
All at once, I knew what was happening.
The distraction for Kane was set. He turned, giving Ayu the chance to jump up from the other direction, barreling into Kane and knocking him down in a tumbling roll. She was doing exactly what the Elder ordered: Help Raoul.
Ayu got to her feet first. She and Raoul hounded Kane back, two against one. Kane bared his teeth. Then he saw he had an audience, and his tongue lolled out in a wolfish grin. What? I heard him say, focused on Raoul. Want in, reject?
Ayu growled. Raoul stood silent. I held my breath—and so did Lacey. I could see her through the windshield, her eyes wide, her hammering heart audible even from where I stood. Kane licked his chops. I snarled a warning at him. Everything in me felt looser, charged up, ready to do something.
It was Ilsa who stopped both of us.
Quiet, she called, sounding infuriatingly amused.
Three figures waited on the hill. The darker, long-legged wolf must have been Pandora, and Brandon came to a skidding stop behind her. Ilsa stood before them both. She was still entirely in white, her fur pale against the blackness of the forest. It was the eeriest thing I’d ever seen.
Now you see, she whispered to me. Her thoughts as a wolf were simpler than her speech, confined to the essentials, but the words were no less compelling. The energy. The strength. The hunt does this.
I gasped in rapid breaths, not wanting to admit she had a point. My skin tingled all over, and every sense felt sharper. That didn’t mean my left ankle wasn’t ready to play traitor, though. I fought to keep my balance on the slope, finally gritting my teeth and putting all my weight on it. The pain helped me cut through the voices in my head.
The hunt keeps us whole, Kane said.
Essential, Pandora added.
Alive, Brandon finished, his voice raw.
They made it sound so tempting: the idea of going wolf and never giving that exhilaration up. But then there was reality, and there was Cee, still shaking and alone back there in the car.
“Not her!” I screamed aloud.
Perhaps, Ilsa said. Not now. But if she comes aga
in…
Kane threw his head back in a long, mocking howl.
So, Ilsa said, detached and cold. Tell her to forget.
“No,” I shouted, determined to refuse. But to my shock, she was speaking to Kane. Telling him to order forgetfulness out of Lacey. And that meant several things, which I realized all at once:
Kane could command others, just like I could.
If Ilsa could, she’d have done it already.
And I wasn’t leaving Lacey to him.
I threw myself in front of Kane and growled, “Stop right there.”
He did, as abruptly as if he’d hit a wall. His whole body trembled, and somewhere deep in his throat, he made a shocked, angry whine. The silence from everyone else might as well have been an exclamation point blasted into my head.
I knew I’d have a few seconds, so I scrambled backwards, biting back a scream of pain, and pulled myself up by the car’s door handle. It popped the door open, swinging me back against the fender with a hard thump. When I lifted my head, I saw Raoul watching me. He wasn’t surprised like everyone else. Instead, he was absolutely unreadable. I couldn’t turn away from him.
You can still choose, I heard the Elder say.
Then Cee leaned out of the car. Before I could react, she reached out to yank my muddy, filthy self into her pristine car, and pulled the door shut.
“Hang on!” she yelled.
I’ve never seen anyone fire up an engine and hit reverse that fast in my life.
Frankly, I’m amazed she didn’t kill us both. The car shot down the bumpy road—backward all the way—until we hit pavement, at which point Cee cranked the wheel around like some sort of stunt driver. I had about two seconds to wonder where she’d learned to drive like that before the car screeched to a face-forward halt. We both slammed sideways. Cee screamed. I just winced out of a long habit of pain.
“Get us out of here,” I pleaded.
I didn’t have to coerce her this time. She just drove like the devil was chasing her.
Neither of us spoke until she stopped at the end of my driveway. All I could see of the house were spots of light behind the trees, which were drooping now beneath the rain.
“I’m sorry,” I said. It was so inadequate I felt ashamed. I knew, horribly, that this whole thing would collapse, that she’d put things together or ask the wrong question and I wouldn’t be able to shut her up. Every bit of secrecy I’d ever built around my life was going to cave in.
Then she hauled in a breath and said, “God, everyone was right.”
I couldn’t move.
“The wild animals here are getting totally out of control.” She turned to me, her eyes huge. “Someone’s got to talk to Brandon’s family. They’re not safe up there.”
And thus did Lacey Hilliard catch a terminal case of the stupids. Thank God for small favors.
*
In the end, Lacey did get me inside, no matter how much I’d hoped—again—that she’d stay in the car. I didn’t have the heart to force the issue twice. Instead, I prayed she wouldn’t tell Grey about the “wild dogs,” because otherwise everything would really explode and I’d have no way to hold things together.
In a twisted sort of way, though, I got lucky.
“Hang onto me,” Lacey said as I limped up the steps. I was probably reaming her arm out of its socket, but she didn’t complain. She just followed me in when I creaked the door open and peered anxiously inside.
“Grey?” I said. No one replied. I flipped on the light and looked around, noticing how uncomfortable Lacey suddenly seemed. She was reacting much differently than Brandon, who’d taken this place in with a shrug. Of course, he lived even rougher than I did. Lacey didn’t. Slowly I saw the house as she might—barely furnished, no TV or anything expensive, hand-me-downs and old, worn objects everywhere. I guess I’d be nervous, too, if my shoes cost more than the contents of the living room.
Cautiously, she went for the table where the phone sat. “I think he left a note.”
My stomach sank. “What does it say?”
“Mom’s doctor called,” she read, swiveling the paper around with three fingers. “Left a message on your cell but you weren’t answering. I think she’ll be fine, but I’ve gone to see for sure. Back when I can.”
I said nothing—loudly, if Lacey’s reaction was anything to go by. She lifted her head and studied me. “Is everything okay?” Lacey said, concerned.
I swallowed. What could I tell her? Was I supposed to explain everything after all, about me and my screwed-up family and my mother that I drove crazy by turning into a monster every month? “Happens every so often,” I said eventually. “He’ll be back.”
Lacey took that in. “My mom,” she began. “She…”
She trailed off. Then much more quietly, she said, “Let’s get you cleaned up. Where’s the shower?”
We had one on the first floor. I wobbled into the tub and took my muddy clothes off there, uneasily passing them around the curtain so Lacey could throw them into the wash. Then I wrenched the knob around, clutching the handrail while the hot water gushed over me. It was a minute before I realized I was sobbing. I let the water run until I was done, then turned my face into the chilling spray until the worst of the redness went away. I knew I’d just spent more money on the hot water than we could afford, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
What repeated in my thoughts, over and over, was, what just happened what just happened what just happened, and then oh, God, what do I do?
I didn’t have an answer for either by the time I’d finished, wrapped myself in battered terrycloth and opened the door. Fortunately, Lacey didn’t ask anything of me. She just helped dry my hair and get me up to bed.
“I promise,” she said before she left. “I won’t say anything to Grey.”
I think I managed to thank her. I hope so. I definitely slept, because when I woke, it was with the hangover of a dozen bad dreams, all of which looked like that jumbled, bloody mess of memories the Elder shoved into my head. I didn’t know what to do with any of them.
Worse, I was also feeling a bone-deep, urgent, muscle-cramping pain. I was so disoriented that it took a while to realize why. When I looked out my window at the sky, though, I knew.
The full moon was already on its way.
Chapter Twelve
Full moons are the worst of everything.
The first one was terrifying. It’s still a strange memory, broken and scraped and missing bits. I remember hurting so badly I couldn’t get up, and lying there staring at a discolored world, like normal human vision was still too much to deal with. I was in my bedroom—no one had figured out the necessity of the cellar yet—and I’d taken it to shreds. Mom screamed at Dad to take me back to the hospital, but he was too scared to explain, and maybe afraid the doctors would think he’d done it. He was scared of me, too. He didn’t meet my eyes once. He only threw all the broken trash from my room into bags and hauled it away. It was Grey who stayed, sitting on the edge of my battered bed. He held my hand until I fell asleep.
He was there during this moon, too, like always. He kept trying to reassure me while I slowly came apart—telling me Mom was okay, that I’d be okay, that he’d get me through it again. After the mess I’d just been through, it nearly broke me. Grey stuck with me through the shakes, the inhuman noises and my fraying temper over every last thing, and he helped as best he could, right until he had to walk me down to that godforsaken cellar.
But the actual reason this moon was hitting me so hard was guilt over everything I couldn’t explain. I hated that I couldn’t explain. I hated even more that I kept thinking about the rest of the pack, and wondering what they were going through while I endured all this.
I hadn’t ever asked, not really. The conversation had gotten too far out of control before I could. Were they out on a hunt tonight? Were they looking for food—or for the feral? Were they trying to keep out of civilization’s way, or would they come sniffing after me again?
And as sick as the Elder was, with that horrible mess in his head…was he in as much pain as me?
I buried my face in my arms while I still could, desperately willing myself to stop thinking. Eventually, I didn’t have much choice in the matter anyway. Once the moon rose, all that pent-up stress, pain and frustration released itself in the only way it could.
The cellar door, for what it’s worth, held. I’m not sure I could say I did, considering the results. There are better ways to wake up after a lycanthropic all-nighter than lying in a pool of your own blood. From the sound Grey made when he found me the next morning, I think it’s a safe bet he agreed.
He touched my shoulder, and I tried to clasp his hand, but then I simply passed out, and stayed unaware of anything more for quite some time.
*
Grey spent the day cleaning me up, patching my wounds and waiting for the worst to close. They always do, eventually, but the worse I get injured, the longer it takes. I slid in and out of consciousness while things slowly mended. When I truly came to, Grey was shaking an empty pill bottle and looking both disgusted and distressed. I knew why.
Fixing that particular problem, after all, meant paying Dr. Fitzpatrick a visit.
I never dared see my doctor much. He was perpetually troubled by me, and I couldn’t blame him. I mostly looked fine every time I came in, since I never scarred or bruised for long, and no matter how many times I broke a bone, it reformed cleanly enough that it didn’t even show on an X-ray. But the pain was real, and the whole-body stress of something being wrong was obvious. He clearly felt he had to do something. He even more obviously wanted to learn more.
About all I could risk, though, was to grab the painkillers and run. And this time, I was in no shape to run anywhere, let alone lie through my teeth again to a medical professional with Theories.
“Is this really necessary?” I protested, once Grey and I reached the clinic. Grey just gestured at me.
“You tell me,” he said dryly. I tried to stop grimacing in pain, but he’d already made his point. “Listen, my last round at playing apothecary came up with nothing that helped, and we’re out of the only painkillers that ever do you any good. At least convince him you need a refill. Please.”
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