Stronger Than Blood

by Genevieve J. Griffin

  “What the hell was that? What was it doing in here?”

  “He hurt somebody,” I whispered. I could still smell the blood. “He bit someone.”

  We stared at each other. It took a while to beat back the panic in my head, but eventually I did the math. So did Lin.

  We both said it at the same time. “The security guard.”

  I looked behind us, horrified. The wolf—Marcus—had come from that direction. Now I could see bloody pawprints on the tiles.

  “Lin, he’s that way.”

  “I’m going with you,” she said.

  She got me to my feet and we wobbled on together, with our bags and one of my crutches left behind, and me clutching one of her arms for support. The smell was getting stronger. I had no idea what we were going to find, but I was sure it wouldn’t be good.

  Oh, God, I thought. The wolf that bit me. He found me again.

  I was still dwelling on that when the trail ended at a partly-open bathroom door. Lin saw me gag, and nearly backed off, but she stayed with me when I pushed inside.

  There’d obviously been a struggle. The metal trash bin was smashed in and the mirror cracked, and the soap dispenser knocked off the wall. I stared at the floor, where a spill of unnatural, antiseptic pink slowly smeared around the corner into red.

  I yanked Lin out of the room, fumbled my phone out of my pocket, and dialed 9-1-1, but Lin had to speak for me once they answered.

  “Someone’s dead,” she gasped. “There’s a body…at the high school.”

  Somehow, she got through the phone call this time without coming apart. I didn’t do as well. I sat down where I stood and abdicated responsibility for anything until another student stopped a few feet in front of us.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Don’t go in there. Just don’t.”

  “But—”

  “Get out of here,” I snarled. He scrambled faster than I’ve seen anyone run in ages. Yeah, just what I needed—proof I was just as scary as the wolf that had killed someone in there. I dropped my head to my folded arms, and stayed that way until the police showed up.

  The scene quickly became a big, confusing mess, boxed in by yellow Do Not Cross tape and growing crowds of students on the other side. They were disobeying every order they got to stand back. Then more men arrived, approaching the door with a stretcher and a pile of sheets.

  I turned away just in time to see officers approaching. One of them gently took Lin aside. Through the haze, I noticed another officer. His name tag read Barron. I’d heard that name before. After a while I remembered where: from the Elder.

  “Hey there,” he said quietly. “Mind coming with me? I could use your help with a few questions.”

  I wasn’t sure I had much of a choice. Swallowing the lingering taste of bile in my mouth, I nodded, let him help me up, and went with him.

  *

  Barron took me straight down to the police station. Neither of us talked on the way, since I was far too tense. The police were being courteous and sympathetic, but that wasn’t any consolation. Alec Barron was the chief of police, the one who knew the Elder. And I’d have to speak to him alone?

  By the time he led me to his office, I was a nervous wreck. Considering he immediately fetched a bag of chocolate chips from his desk, I had the feeling he’d noticed.

  “Bad habit,” he said casually. He dumped a handful into his palm before offering it to me. “But my wife says chocolate is good for the soul. She’s usually right about these things.”

  He held the bag out between us, waiting. I stared at it blankly. “No appetite,” I said at last, my voice weak. It was true, in a way. My head was still so full of the memory of blood that there wasn’t room for anything else.

  Without comment, Chief Barron put the bag away and tossed down his own mouthful, thinking over something. “I’m sorry you had to see all that today. I understand it was quite gruesome.”

  I answered with a shaky “yes.” After a minute I added, “Sir.”

  “Don’t worry about titles. I just want you to tell me what you saw. In as much detail as you can, please.”

  I had to push my nausea aside and think. He knew about the werewolves, that much was clear, but did he know I was one? What was going to be safe to say? “It was like a dog,” I said haltingly. “It was huge. More like a wolf, I guess. I don’t know how it got into the school.”

  That much was true, at least. What had Marcus done? Come inside and mauled the guard, then dragged him off? No, that would have left a mess at the doors. So maybe he’d walked in while he was in human form, and the guard tried to escort him somewhere else, but then Marcus went wolf…

  I couldn’t help but imagine the attack. Overlaid on it was the Elder’s ragged, savage mental imagery. It was anything but pleasant. Barron had to call for my attention again, and when I jolted up, I winced.

  “Are you comfortable?”

  “Never am, particularly.”

  “I see.” He looked me over. “I think you may have left one of your crutches at the school. Sorry about that. We’ll make sure it gets returned.”

  “Aren’t I…going back?”

  “The school’s closed for the rest of the day. Whether it stays closed tomorrow or not is up to the administration. I expect you’ll get word soon. Why did you drop it, can I ask?”

  “The crutch? Well, the wolf…thing came at me in the hall.”

  “Did he try to attack you?”

  “No. He went past me, and out the door. He didn’t seem interested anymore…”

  I trailed off. Barron had the slightest wry tilt to his lips. “I doubt it was a lack of interest, exactly.”

  Well, crap, I thought. After an uncomfortable silence, I did what I really shouldn’t have done, which was lie. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  I think I’ve mentioned that I’m crap at lying. Unfortunately, the events of the last few weeks had put ideas in my head. You know—try lacing things with a hint of command, compelling people to believe what I’m saying. But the trick only worked with people who were—or could be made—subservient to me, and I wasn’t confident enough to pull it off with the chief of the goddamned police. For another, I should have remembered what the Elder said: he is a difficult man to persuade.

  He leaned across the table, his eyes darkening, and I swear I felt the temperature in the air drop ten degrees.

  “Don’t try that with me,” he said. “Powers greater than you have failed miserably at it.”

  My voice went very small. “What kind of powers?”

  “Gilman,” he said dryly, “is a stranger town than even you know.” He picked up a pile of papers, rapped them on the desk, then spread them in a perfect fan in front of me.

  I looked down at the printouts. They were all photographs.

  “These people,” he said. “Let’s call them owners of problem pets. Do you know anything about them?”

  He didn’t have the whole pack there, but he’d nailed down a few. Pandora and Brandon were both there. Ilsa was caught in a furtive profile shot, looking strangely like a ghost. The Elder was conspicuously absent, despite the fact that they’d obviously…spoken. I guess he was above suspicion, then. Or they knew he was too sick to manage this kind of crime.

  I considered the photos and shook my head. “No. I mean, I know them, but…they wouldn’t.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I’ve seen…their dogs,” I said of the three pack members before me. “None of them are the one I saw at school.”

  “Who did you see, then?”

  “An outcast.”

  “Do you know who he is?”

  When I hesitated, Barron pressed for more. “Are you trying to protect someone?”

  I swallowed and raised my head. “I know he’s not in the pack. They track down and deal with ‘pet owners’ like that. They have for a long time.”

  “And they’re doing a suspiciously bad job of it,” he said, which made me squir
m in my chair. The thought had occurred to me, too. This was the man who almost killed me, and in all this time, they haven’t done anything about him.

  So why was I hesitating?

  “Meanwhile,” Barron said, watching my gears spin, “he seems to keep finding you instead.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “I want to recap all this, see what I’m missing. Some weeks ago, you and your friend were in an altercation in town, weren’t you? She called that in to 9-1-1 as well. Assaulted by a strange man, who was wounded, erratic in behavior, and he might have had a dog. Or might have been a dog. A bit confusing, but I’m sensing a theme. And of course there’s this.”

  He slid one more piece of paper towards me. It was a scan from an old local paper. Ten years old, in fact. The headline read, GILMAN JUVENILE MAULED IN ANIMAL ATTACK.

  He gave me a while to look over my past, then set down his files and leaned closer.

  “I can’t prove anything about you, and by the strictest standards of this case, that isn’t the issue. Going by what I know—which includes evidence I cannot and will not share with you—you are in no way a suspect, and so you are free to go home, with my sympathies for what I’m sure was a traumatic experience. However, off the record, I know you have…specialized knowledge of the situation. And considering more lives might be in danger, it would be a good idea to share.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Perhaps without a few of the more tortured metaphors we’ve been using in this conversation.”

  I suddenly wished I’d accepted the chocolate.

  “His name’s Marcus,” I whispered. “And the pack doesn’t seem to want me to know anything more. I’ve only been putting it together from bits and pieces. I wish I had more, but I don’t know how to help you.”

  He waited, then sat back and sighed. “I’ll give you my card,” he said, handing one to me. “If you can tell me anything—anything at all—I urge you to call me. This man is dangerous, and I want to get him off the streets. I’m sure you do, too. And Gilman may have, well, neighborly agreements with these folks, but given their reluctance to take care of their own, we can’t leave this in the hands of our ‘pet owners’ alone.”

  He actually made air quotes around the words. I choked back a frantic laugh. He gave me one moment more, maybe to see if I’d blurt anything else out, then rounded the desk to help me up. Walking with only one crutch was awkward. I paused by the door, partially because I was adjusting my balance, and partially because I was still thinking. The next words fell out of my mouth almost by accident. “He said he’d undo what he started.”

  Barron frowned. “Marcus did?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he mean by that?”

  “I thought he meant he was after me. To finish me off. But he didn’t touch me. He mostly just seemed to be warning me.” Puzzled, I met Barron’s gaze again. “The people he’s actually attacked—why them? I mean, why them in particular? What do they have to do with it?”

  “We’re looking into it.”

  There was a rap on the door. Barron looked through the window, sighed and signaled to the officer on the other side to wait. “We’ve already called your brother,” he said. “He’ll be here shortly.”

  “Thanks,” I said softly.

  “Oh, and one last thing. I’m curious. Confidentially.”

  I waited.

  “You said Marcus told you things today. But he was, well, a wolf. How does that work, exactly?”

  I sighed, gave up, and tapped my temple. Barron looked almost wistful when he nodded. “Handy trick. Wish it worked for me. I’ve been told my head’s walled up like a vault, though.”

  “Is that why the persuasion thing doesn’t work on you?”

  He gave me a wry smile. “Next time my son drives you home, you can ask him about it.”

  It took a minute to realize what he meant. Then I gaped. The other night when Grey didn’t pick me up, and A.J.’s friend Derek came to my rescue…Derek was the police chief’s son? And he just conveniently happened to be available that night? How much did these people know?

  Barron pushed open his office door and said, “We’ll be keeping an eye out for you.”

  I wished I could find that at all reassuring.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Grey lived up to his nickname when he heard about what I’d found. I’ve never seen him that ashen. I was expecting his temper to blow, or for us to get into another awful argument, but instead he went silent. Then he hugged me, which freaked me right the hell out. Despite everything, we didn’t really hug that much.

  “Get some sleep,” he said. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

  Still pressed against his shoulder, I gave an awkward nod. When he released me, I slowly ascended the stairs. My room was empty, but the window was slightly open. I didn’t remember leaving it that way. I leaned against the windowsill and looked outside, but no one was there. “This is not the time to play hide and seek,” I whispered.

  I got no proper answer, but the phone did ring again.

  It had been ringing off the hook all afternoon, or it would have been, if cell phones had hooks. I’d let everything go to voice mail, though. I eventually listened to a few messages and had to grasp for who the names belonged to. They were classmates, but not anyone I knew well. Guess Cee wasn’t being particularly secretive with my number.

  She’d called three times, I noticed. I didn’t call her back.

  This time, though, the name on the display was Lin’s. Under the circumstances, if anyone did deserve acknowledgment, it was her. I answered the call. “Hey,” I said. “You okay?”

  “Not really. You?”

  I thought about it. I pictured Grey’s face, looking horrified for me. I thought of the police chief’s knowing smile, then all the blood, and the warning in my head…

  “I haven’t been okay in a long time,” I told her.

  “Figured you might say something like that.” She laughed unevenly. “My parents aren’t letting me out of the house. If they have their way I might never leave ever again. So much for that Halloween party, I guess.”

  Outside, the wind lifted. I nudged the window open further—it was moving more easily now, perhaps from overuse—and watched for a while, until a sudden flurry of birds escaped the trees. “Lin, I don’t think I can talk long.”

  “Me either. I just wish I could sleep.”

  I bit my lip. “Take care, okay? And…”

  “What?”

  “It’s going to be a full moon soon. People get extra crazy. If you’re going to be good and stay indoors, that would be a good night to do it.”

  She let out a weary chuckle. “Yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.” The call disconnected. I slowly put my phone back on the desk. Then I returned to the window. There was a human-sized silhouette at the edge of the trees.

  I sighed, then heaved myself over the sill.

  God knows what I was doing, trying to do this alone. It was hard enough with help. I think I snapped a finger trying to swing over the edge, and my ankle didn’t take it well when I tried to shimmy down the post to the porch railing. Suffice it to say, I do not shimmy. I fell the last few feet. At least my audience made no comment.

  I wasn’t Raoul, though. It was Ayu who edged into the light instead.

  Her hair had returned to basic black, which made her skin look even paler than usual. She was alarmingly thin, too. I swallowed, shook out my kinked hand and thought of what to say. For some reason, “Get tired of the purple hair?” was the first thing that popped out.

  Ayu made a face. “Dye doesn’t stay put after a change any more than anything else does.”

  “Hadn’t tried it.”

  “Don’t bother getting a tattoo, then. Voice of experience here.”

  I cracked a smile before I remembered who I was talking to. This girl was dangerous, and I doubted she’d blink at hurting me. Or at least she wouldn’t have a few weeks ago. Her eyes were still hard, glinting in the faint light, but she sounde
d tired. And when I looked at her hands, I saw a long, fresh scar running up from one knuckle to disappear beneath her sleeve.

  Scars? I didn’t even think those were possible.

  I gave Ayu another wary look. “Why are you here?”

  “It’s about the feral.”

  “Marcus,” I corrected sharply.

  Her lip twitched, but she didn’t contradict me. I leaned against the post, trying to look nonchalant—and getting the weight off my shaky knees—until she explained herself. “Ilsa found out,” she said at last. “Kane had been telling us all he took the guy down. Obviously he lied.”

  “I thought he was only lying to stop me from getting involved.”

  “Not everything is about you,” Ayu said dryly. “Maybe that was part of it, but you weren’t around to hear Ilsa ranting about how Kane’s fucked us over. He’s supposed to be our hunter, you know? And now this. The whole pack’s at risk. The police are even saying the agreement to leave us alone is off.” She paused to breathe. “He should have just done the damn job, but he tried to get us all off the scent so he wouldn’t have to kill the guy.”

  “Why?”

  “Just a guess,” Ayu said, “but there’s no way Ilsa should have entrusted him with taking out his own father.”

  I gasped. Ayu rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t get all sentimental about it. Marcus wasn’t ever the cuddly, caring daddy figure. Kane and Brandon both hated him. But blood bonds can still mess with your head. It’s hard to turn your back on family.”

  Did I ever know that already. “So Kane…?”

  “Wussed out. Now he’s in the doghouse and you’re all we’ve got. Again.”

  I waited to see if she’d explain why me. I’d bet Ilsa didn’t actually want me anywhere near this. But I had a connection with Marcus, too, apparently—one that he’d forced on me, but a bond nonetheless. They must have hoped I had some sort of wolfy intuition where he was concerned.

  My head spun. One thought emerged from the sickly mire. “You knew,” I said, pained. “All this time you knew Marcus was the one who turned me?”

  “Not me. I’ve only been in the pack a year. You expect me to know everything? Ilsa only explained when she said to come get you.”