Stronger Than Blood

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Stronger Than Blood Page 13

by Genevieve J. Griffin


  “Don’t you dare throw that in my face, not when I’ve been trying to help.”

  “Yeah, and it’s done so much good, hasn’t it? I felt better just having some of Ilsa’s stew than after any of your concoctions.”

  I only realized my mistake after he stood up straighter and went deathly quiet. I shouldn’t have brought her up, not yet, or perhaps not ever. Now he’d ask.

  “Ilsa,” he repeated, sure enough. He pointed at the container with one long finger. “Did she make this? Is that why you want me to test this? It’s her you’re after?”

  “Grey, please stop.”

  “What is wrong? Why won’t you tell me about these people?”

  “I can’t…just…I can’t,” I said, feeling helpless.

  And with that, I ran for the stairs. I was about halfway up when I tripped again, and had to haul myself the rest of the way alone despite the pain. The ankle at least would fix itself. The rest of it?

  Unfortunately, I knew, not so much.

  *

  Grey drove me to school the next morning, sullen and silent all the way. He did not show up to drive me home. I felt like an idiot standing in front of the school, punching his number over and over into the phone, before I finally found the “redial” button. He never answered anyway. All I could do was watch buses and cars filtering out of the parking lot.

  I caught Antonella giving me a scornful look as she sauntered past. No one else I knew showed up for a long while, though, not even Brandon.

  The last familiar face I saw was Madison’s. She came out late, juggling two bags and looking harried. When she saw me, her expression shifted into exasperation. “Oh, look. It’s our nonexistent team member.”

  That would be the senior group project I hadn’t thought about in days. I’d have apologized if I cared, but I only shook the cell phone, like that would cause Grey’s voice to fall out of it. No such luck.

  “My ride didn’t show,” I said.

  “Pity.” She was trying to hike one bag over her shoulder, but it slipped. God knows why, but I dropped my crutch, reached out and caught it for her. It was heavy enough to snap my fingers out of joint. Her eyes bugged out when she saw my hand.

  Oh, crap.

  I forced her to take the bag back and gave my hand a sharp, violent shake. The dislocated knuckles snapped back into place. Madison’s face twisted into appalled disbelief.

  “What is wrong with you?” she asked.

  I waited silently until Madison made a face, like she’d decided on something despite herself. “Mom let me use the car today. I promised I’d top off the gas. I can drive you as far as the station.”

  Without waiting for me to agree, she hiked off in the direction of the tank-like SUV. I snatched up my crutch and hobbled after her as fast as I was able. Once I’d gotten inside—whereupon she locked the doors, rendering me her captive audience—I discovered she did have something more to say.

  “It’s funny,” she told me, sounding far less amused than the word implied. “Of Cee’s friends, you and I have lived here the longest. Cee’s been here a while, but you know the lakeside sort. They’re kind of in their own world over there.”

  I had no idea where she was going with this. I kept my face impassive while we made our way down the street.

  “I live outside town,” she finally explained. “At the forest’s edge.”

  I filled in the blank: where all the weird shit comes from. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.” She sighed. “I know there’s some messed-up stuff that goes on around here. And I know that crazy guy in town was interested in you. Not the rest of us. You. Is there any reason for that? Or for why he’d go after Kelly’s stepdad?”

  I went stiff. “It can’t be the same—”

  “He was not right. I know what I saw. And Mr. Johnson? He was a completely normal guy. Good job—worked at a clinic or lab or something—good with his family… Kelly said he was the best thing that ever happened to them. And now he’s getting buried in shreds. No one deserves that.”

  I folded my arms and hunched in on myself, saying nothing. Madison kept going, her voice bitter.

  “I don’t want this to be my life. I thought after Cee ditched Pandora that this would be over. I’m sick of dealing with freak shows, I want to feel safe, and I don’t want you or anyone else dragging this kind of shit back into our circle. If the guy who went after us because of you is killing people now, I want you to get as far away from me as possible.”

  That little speech left her breathless. I wasn’t much better off. At least I had logic on my side. “Then why did you let me in your car?”

  She glared at me like I’d just asked the stupidest question ever spoken. “Because if you don’t do your part of this project first, you’ll wish that thing had gotten you.”

  She slapped a USB drive into my hand. It was labeled as the footage from their video shoot. “Find the useful bits,” was all she said.

  Then we stopped at the gas pumps.

  Madison popped her door, obviously expecting me to do the same and leave. I slid out awkwardly and peered around. It was unusually quiet. Worried, I made my way into the convenience store.

  A.J. was working that day. He was usually friendly, but he looked stressed when he saw me. “Tell me this means your brother’s here,” he said, over the sound of the jingling bell.

  My heart sank. “What?”

  “Grey never showed. If he doesn’t come in I’ll be stuck here until ten. I have a date, man. You know where he is?”

  I shook my head. A.J. swore. “How’d you get here, then?”

  “Got a ride, but—” Out the window, Madison made a poetically appropriate exit, leaving a cloud of exhaust to mark her passing. “Crap, A.J. I gotta get home.”

  He told me he couldn’t leave the till, but he dialed his friend Derek, and after twenty minutes and a lot of promises, I found myself being driven home. Derek tried to make small talk, but I wasn’t in the mood. I only thanked him for the ride and hurried inside, nervous as all hell about what I was going to find.

  As it turned out, I wasn’t nervous enough.

  What I found was Grey sitting on the living room floor, his eyes unfocused, his breathing sleepy and slow. Someone else stood a few feet away, turning something over in his hands. I recognized him immediately, and the words burst out of their own volition: “What did you do to him?”

  Kane swiveled around and studied me. Then he shrugged at my brother. “I told him to tune out for a while.” A sly smile crept over his face. “Maybe I told him too hard.”

  I think Lin was wrong when she claimed Kane had no sense of humor. It was warped, sick, and despicable, but it was there. I knelt down beside my brother, which was more difficult than it sounds, and tried to shake him alert. “Grey? Come on, Grey. It’s me.”

  “It’ll wear off. Leave him. I don’t have all day.”

  My head snapped up. “What do you want?”

  He tossed something onto the floor. It landed with a sick thud, as if its weight was too much for its size. I stared at the oddly-shaped, curled thing, saw its matted texture, smelled it…and nearly threw up.

  “The feral’s dead,” he said, kicking the scrap of wolf pelt closer to me.

  It was werewolf fur, no question. I couldn’t not recognize it. I scrambled back, trying not to look at it, and I pulled my shirt up over my nose.

  “While you and the reject were wasting time,” Kane said, his voice slow and deliberate, “and while a man died, I was out there looking. He left traces after the murder.”

  He knelt down beside me, practically stepping on my brother in the process.

  “So I took him out. And now, well, you’re trouble, and no asset to the pack after all.” He bent closer, whispering in my ear. “So it might be a good idea to stop…asking…questions…and go back to being a useless little recluse, or you’ll have to find somewhere else to be.”

  He stood. I rubbed my arms, feeling chilled all the way through. Asking questi
ons? What did he think I’d been asking? Did he know I’d started having suspicions about Ilsa?

  It was then I started to worry about Raoul.

  “Get out of my house,” I said thickly. Kane, standing above me, chuckled so low it barely registered as laughter.

  “Weak. Try that again.”

  “Get out!”

  “Oh, come on, B. Say it like you mean it.”

  I snarled, but it didn’t matter. He’d already gone. He left the door open, letting the damp air crawl inside like a dying thing. I ignored it. It was Grey I went to first.

  “Hey,” I said shakily. “Hey, you. We need to get up.”

  He mumbled vaguely, but it was still mostly up to me to tug him into the nearest chair. I nearly pulled myself out of joint in every possible direction, and by the time I’d arranged my grumbling, dazed brother into a position that wouldn’t destroy his circulation, I collapsed onto the floor, gasping.

  Stop…asking…questions, Kane had said. He knew I was treading into dangerous territory.

  But I hadn’t gotten close enough to the truth, if I’d missed a murderer.

  Guilt curled me up into a tiny knot of pain. Then I got back up and limped to the doorway. Kane was long gone. The only thing I saw outside was the rain.

  I stood in the cold for a while. Then I shut the door, found that awful scrap of pelt and shoved it under the couch to hide it. I had to stop and think. I had to sleep.

  Maybe, I thought grimly, I’ll burn it in the morning.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I woke the next day curled up on the couch. Grey had been thumping around the room, making bleary noises about coffee and clothes, with our rattling old washing machine accentuating it all. So I woke worried as well as sore, because Grey never fusses much about how he’s dressed. Besides, it was pretty much the crack of dawn, and I had no idea what he was up to that early on a Saturday.

  “Grey?” I said uneasily. I wanted to be relieved he was under his own power again, but I wasn’t. Not yet. “What are you—”

  He threw a dress at me, fresh out of the dryer. “Make yourself presentable.”

  The only reason a dress of mine would be in the wash was to get dust off of it. I almost never wore the things. The last time I had was—

  “Oh, no. Grey, tell me we’re not.”

  He gave me a grim look and marched off to shave. I groaned, knowing all too well where we were going.

  We were going to see our mother.

  It had been months since I’d last visited the euphemistically named Bright Horizons Long-Term Care Center. For one thing, my mother was terrified of me. Last time I tried to say hello, she’d started crying and tearing at her hair the instant I walked through the door. The visit didn’t last long. For another, it was my own goddamned fault she was there. If I hadn’t turned, hadn’t—

  Well. Grey told me every time that it was the fault of the wolf that bit me, not my fault. I didn’t intend to hurt her. Of course not.

  Doesn’t mean I didn’t, though.

  Grey, who didn’t listen to any of my protests, got us on the road in record time. I worried throughout the entire drive. Worried about my mother. Worried about me. Mostly, I worried about Grey, who—much like Lacey, when I’d ordered her around—seemed awfully vague on last night’s details. “Why didn’t you pick me up after school yesterday?” I asked with caution. “I waited.”

  “I got held up at work. Then I had to stop at home…”

  He trailed off there, like he’d forgotten. Kane had either told him to forget, or the facts had gotten muddled. I was beginning to wonder if this talent in coercion was really only meant for other werewolves. It did an awful number on regular people.

  I dropped it, though, and didn’t say anything else until we arrived.

  We trudged in through the unremitting pleasantness, checked in, and waited in the lobby while the receptionist called for my mother’s nurse. I didn’t speak to anyone. I just fussed with my dress, feeling conspicuous. I mean, seriously—pink. Grey made me dress in pink. I was amazed I hadn’t already killed him.

  Then they called us down the hall, and I settled into our old, uneasy routine.

  Grey would always go in first, while I waited outside her room. He’d talk to her for a bit, see what kind of mood she was in, and then, if she was steady enough, I could give it a try. It was futile, usually, but it was the best we could do. Until then, I sat outside while the nurses played friendly. They also liked to warn me, as gently as possible, what Mom was “hallucinating” about today. I didn’t have the heart to explain that it was usually me.

  This morning, though, they didn’t have any particular warnings. One nurse passed me a cup of orange juice—they weren’t big on hot drinks around here—and said, “I think she’s ready.”

  I nodded unhappily, waited for Grey to open the door, and made my clumsy way inside. For once, the three of us had the room to ourselves. Mom was inside, sitting at her small desk. She looked thin, but she’d pulled her hair up in a ponytail and put on a bit of makeup, which was unusual. Usually she didn’t care. I tried to look at it as a good sign.

  This morning, she was busy with the newspaper. It looked like someone had carefully selected which sections to give her. These people were going to be screwed when all the papers went online-only, I thought dourly. Mom hadn’t ever been allowed Internet access. I could only imagine what she’d have dug up otherwise.

  As it was, though, she was busy with the crossword. “There we go,” Mom said, lowering a pen from her mouth. She flattened the sheet on the desk, revealing the puzzle, and completed another line. After a few satisfied moments, she looked up and saw me.

  “Look,” Grey said, very carefully. “B’s come to see you.”

  Mom held herself still. Then she looked away, avoiding me entirely. I tried not to put my head in my hands.

  “Mom,” Grey said, “there’s something we need to talk about. All of us. That’s why we’re here.”

  She hummed a wordless question, like she wasn’t quite listening. It gave me time to study her face. Somehow, the older she got, the more she looked like me. She was still prettier than I was, but she looked perpetually tired, and a little bit fragile. She always had been that way. Maybe it was why she ended up here.

  I took a breath and said, “Mom?”

  She waited for a long moment. Then she turned to Grey. Of course, she wouldn’t speak directly to me. She never did. “What is it?”

  “I think B and I might need to move.”

  And that was why he’d dragged me here without explanation. He wanted to get me out of town. Kane must have put the idea in his head—or maybe it was already there. Either way, I felt sick. I also felt furious. He should have told me.

  “I’m not sure it’s best for B and me to be here anymore. There’s—well, never mind what’s going on, but we need a change. You’re doing well here, Mom. You wouldn’t have to go anywhere. Nothing needs to change if you’re happy. But we might not visit as often, is all.”

  “Oh, is it?” I said bitterly. He shot a look at me.

  Mom didn’t see it, for she’d turned aside again. She rustled through the newspaper, revealing the entertainment and living sections, real estate, classified ads. Harmless stuff, really, except for the one page she pulled free. It was a cutout from two days ago.

  “I think I know what you mean,” she said mildly. “They missed this.”

  She handed the scrap to my brother. I tried to ignore the way it curled limply, like the ragged piece of pelt that was still underneath our couch. To make matters worse, I saw a familiar name in the offending article. It was about Mr. Johnson.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “The wolves…?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked at me again. I hugged myself and said nothing. “B knows who they are,” Grey said darkly.

  “Oh, like that’s going to help,” I mumbled.

  “Please don’t argue,” Mom said quietly. I bowed my head and waite
d.

  “The point is,” Grey said, “they’ll cause trouble for her if we stay. For both of us. They don’t know about you. You’re safe. You’re fine—”

  “You don’t need to talk to her like she’s a child,” I muttered.

  “But if I don’t want B to get killed, which is somewhat in question at this point”—I glared at him—“we’d be better off somewhere else. Very, very else.”

  He was probably right, but I put up a fight nonetheless. “I can’t just go. You can’t spring it on me here, like this. That isn’t fair.”

  Grey’s expression went dark. “We’re going to talk about what’s fair and what’s not in this room?”

  Tears pricked at my eyes. Making things worse, Mom murmured, “Don’t be hurtful, Toby.”

  It had been so long since I’d heard his real name. Tobias Matthew. We used to call him that, before he got that streak in his hair, the one we had to make a joke of somehow, because it was my fault.

  Of course none of this was fair. Not a single thing. Yet it didn’t change the truth.

  “I can’t,” I said. “I can’t leave.”

  “B, please—”

  Mom went to the window and stared into the distance. It left me up against my brother. I wasn’t sure how to change Grey’s mind, especially if Kane had already been messing with it, but I went for the simplest argument I could make. “Grey, have you really thought this through?”

  From the way he looked at me, he probably hadn’t.

  “The full moon’s going to come around again soon enough. How far were you planning on taking me? Do you have anywhere to go? Anywhere with suitably reinforced walls, that is? Or were you just going to lock me in a hotel bathroom somewhere and hope for the best?”

  “There’s…some friends of mine in Eugene with a—”

  “Come on, Grey. Those are your buddies who think a tarted-up Winnebago is the epitome of hipster living.” I made a dismissive gesture, which unfortunately sloshed orange juice out of the cup I’d forgotten I was holding. I grimaced and set it on the table.

 

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