by C. T. Adams
Dale agreed. “Him for sure. He was on Rose’s short list for not protecting Holly back when she was human. And their dad was another one. Rose thought he deserved to know what it was like to be just human. He’d always looked down on Holly and Rose. And his wife too, if Rose wasn’t bullshitting me about that. But the thing was, they couldn’t ever get the drug completely stable. It had some weird side effects. Made people crazy, like Lucas’s son. The youngest one.”
Holly’s hand flew to her mouth. “Michael.” She whispered the word. Everybody had wondered what happened, why he’d turned so hostile and strange. They’d blamed it on the mating with Cat, but was it? Had he been drugged and they had no idea?
“Could they have been working with a bunch of snakes and raptors? Maybe like in a coordinated attack?” It was a logical question and Holly wouldn’t have thought of asking it. Would the FMU work with snakes intent on killing? The whole point originally was to end the brutality of the animals, not encourage it. Or were her sisters and the others victims of that compliance drug Ahmad had mentioned?
“Not with them. But yes, they knew about it. Matthew—he used the screen name Nobodystoady—had ties to a snake group that was planning attacks on the council. He didn’t know details about what they were doing, but he’d gotten times and a couple of places. A couple of FMU members followed behind the snakes and shot darts with the drug at whatever council members they recognized were being attacked. They just didn’t care anymore if anyone died, or got hurt. I tried to get Rose to see how many lives would be ruined, but she just kept going and going. And. . . . well, I love her. Loved her, I mean.” He paused and then broke down completely. “She’s really gone. My . . . my Rosebud. My beautiful—” The last was a whisper and the line abruptly clicked off.
Eric frantically pushed buttons, trying to call him back, while Holly felt the feeling seep out of her lips and fingers. Her bowl of stew landed, hot and wet, on her lap—and she didn’t care. Didn’t move out of the way or even react.
“Holly? Sweetheart, are you okay?” She felt Eric’s hand on her shoulder, but couldn’t move to acknowledge it. When he tipped her chin up to look into her eyes, he seemed out of focus. He smelled so concerned, so worried, but she couldn’t do anything to end his pain. Then he moved away and she was alone again. Had someone put her in a rocking chair? She seemed to be moving, but wasn’t sure why.
After what seemed like a lifetime, but was also no time at all, she heard a new voice. “Holly? Holly, it’s Iris. Look at me, little sis.” She looked up and realized the reason things were out of focus was because she was looking through a salty film of tears. Iris’s eyes were likewise red and swollen. “I just heard,” she sobbed. “She didn’t deserve that, Hollyberry. Rose was better than that.”
Holly felt her head nodding at the familiar nickname she’d grown up with. When Iris held out her arms, she fell into them, her body racked with sobs. “I didn’t know, Iris. I swear I didn’t know.”
“How could you have? Sweetie, how could any of us?” Her sister’s scent was filled with such compassion, such warmth, that she seemed a completely different person than the snide, petty teenager from years ago who’d left home to marry a hot, rich guy in Canada. At least Iris hadn’t tormented her like the others. She’d mainly been aloof and distant.
But now they held onto each other for the longest time, until the worst of the tears passed. But the ache remained like dull metal in Holly’s stomach. Iris pushed her back and held her at arm’s length, wetness still shining in her eyes. “Okay, look, kiddo—I’ve got to get back outside to my family, and it sounds like you have important stuff to do in here. But we’ll keep in touch.” Iris turned her head and looked up at Eric. Holly hadn’t even realized he was still there. “Thank you so much for coming to find me, Agent Thompson. I always knew Dad was wrong about you.” She patted Holly on the head and ruffled her hair. “You take care of my baby sis, huh? There aren’t many of us left.” Iris flicked her eyes back to her, still petting her hair. “You heard about Pansy, right?”
Holly shook her head. It hurt to open her eyes that wide. They were too swollen. “No. What—”
Now Iris sighed sadly. “Dominance battle last fall. She finally picked a fight she couldn’t win. I’m not surprised Dad didn’t tell you. I think he was embarrassed. He always tried to convince himself that the toughest fighters were the best kids. Rose might have been human, but she was probably the most aggressive of any of us. Weird that the three quiet ones are the ones who survived. It’s just you, me, and Lily left now.”
Three out of six gone. “Have you heard from Dad?”
Iris shook her head. “Nothing yet. But I heard from someone outside that Raven Ramirez took over when the attack happened. He was at the airport when the first call came in. It sounds like he fought off most of the snakes and then evacuated Boulder to the summer hunting lands in Wyoming. Fingers crossed, huh?”
“Yeah.” There was a dull feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Eric spoke up. “I’ll be right back, Holly. Just hang in there, okay?”
She nodded as Eric walked out. Iris watched him leave with anxious eyes. She was holding her body rigid, her fingers clenched tight around Holly’s hand. Once he was gone, she began to whisper hurriedly.
“Holly, I couldn’t say this with him in the room, but you need to keep your distance from Eric Thompson.” The panic on her face and in her scent were real, but Holly couldn’t figure out why.
“What do you mean? What’s wrong with him?”
Iris shook her head, tiny little movements, and constantly flicked her eyes around the room, watching. She spoke at a frantic pace, as though trying to make sure she got everything in while there was time. “It’s the whole family, Holly. The whole Canada pack is terrified of them. Derek is insane, and he’s a total racist. His mother too. They treat anyone who’s not pureblood Canadian like animals up there, but we’re too afraid to leave. And the rumors I’ve heard about Eric!” She gripped both of her hands and stared at her with wide eyes. “They didn’t send him away because he was the nice one. Oh, sweetie, please don’t get involved with him. Dad was totally right about them and I should have believed him. I know I said Pansy died in a dominance battle, but I don’t know for sure. That’s what Derek said. But I’m afraid he . . . he did something to her. And Doug too. They were outspoken against him. He’s been arrested a ton of times—arrested and held in jail for assault and attempted rape—but his mother keeps buying his way out of trouble. I don’t know how she does it, but nobody on the council would believe Pansy when she complained.”
Iris started abruptly as footsteps sounded on the stairs. She scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping in her effort to leave. “Just think about it, okay? Be really careful.”
Eric walked in the room and stared at Iris like she’d grown a second head. Holly didn’t doubt he could smell the fear, bordering on panic, that rose from her. Iris didn’t say a word to him. She just lowered her eyes and bolted out the door. Eric shrugged and looked down at Holly with a sad smile. “I found you some clean pants and some more tissues.” He held out a pair of blue jeans that seemed her size. She looked down and saw that the stew had dried into a thick crust on the fabric of her pants. All of a sudden her skin started to itch underneath. Or had it been itching for a while and she only just noticed? “I’ve been holding off the council for as long as I can, Holly, but—”
Shit. The hindsight. She’d completely forgotten. Iris couldn’t be right about him. She had to have made some sort of mistake.
But she’s lived under the family’s rule for five years. Why would she lie?
Holly faked a little snuffle and nodded. “It’s okay. I’m sure I’m not the only person who lost family today.” She managed to get to her feet with a little effort. She stumbled once because one foot had gone to sleep, and Eric caught her. There was no hate in his eyes when he looked at her. No scent of condescension when he touched her. In fact, he’d been near her for a who
le summer and she wasn’t stupid. She knew when people looked down on her. She’d always been able to sense that sort of thing. No, Iris had to be wrong. This time, Holly wrapped her arms around him and gently kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He squeezed her tightly and planted a kiss on her forehead. “You had quite a shock . . . on a couple of fronts.” He paused, and then lowered his voice. “I haven’t told them yet, by the way. Figured you’d rather do it, in case . . . well, just in case.”
In case she didn’t want to admit her involvement? That was sweet of him, but also not fair. “No. I’ll ’fess up. I left the group before any of this shit happened, but I still should have told someone they existed. I left because they were getting radical, and it scared me. Maybe I deserve to be punished for keeping this secret.”
He suddenly smelled nearly frantic, from what little air she could pull in through her nose. “I can’t judge that. But don’t suggest it, huh? Right now, I don’t know what some of them might do. At least wait until you see how they react to you knowing about the group at all.” He paused and then draped the pants over her shoulder, looking extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden. “I just don’t want to lose you, okay? I think I might still . . . that is . . . I . . . oh hell!”
He released her abruptly and walked away. He hesitated for a moment when he reached the stairs, then nearly ran down them. The scents he left behind made her mouth dry and her heart race. Lots of confusion and the wet scent of sorrow. But was that cinnamon and sugar that drifted to her nose, or just the cooks starting dessert in the kitchen? Might still . . . what?
She started to follow him when she heard footsteps behind her and recognized Tony’s scent. He touched her on the shoulder on his way past. She could smell fur and oiled leather as he got close. “Sorry about your sister, kid, and sorry we can’t give you time to deal with it. But we need to get this over with, and you’re supposed to be part of the party. But hey—” he said with a nod and a surprising amount of compassion in his scent. “Once this is all over, I know some people you can talk to. They’re pretty good.”
Holly nodded and he winked before trotting lightly down the stairs. She started to follow him, but the pants were totally stuck to her legs now. They pulled on her skin and held like glue.
She waddle-walked to the bathroom to change and finally got a look at herself in the mirror. God, I look like I’m the last one alive in a horror movie! It was no wonder Eric had kissed her forehead. It was the only part of her face not spattered with dried stew. It looked like she had thrown up on herself. It had even splashed into her hair. She glanced around the room. At least there was soap and a real towel, rather than just the cheap paper towels she expected.
It wasn’t a perfect solution, but she was able to scrub the grime off her face and body by wetting down half the towel and giving herself a sponge bath—after she’d peeled off the ruined jeans and sweater. And the soap actually smelled pretty good, although she wouldn’t have thought to blend pears with cucumbers as a fragrance. When she saw there was a brand new package of combs in the drawer, she decided to give her hair a quick rinse too.
Fortunately, the pants Eric had found for her mostly fit, although they were a little tight, and the T-shirt she had on under the sweater was still in decent shape.
Just the act of cleaning up made her feel a little more like herself. Yeah, her hair was damp and her eyes were still red, but nobody would comment on that part. And the tube of cherry lip balm she’d bought at the truck stop on the way down hadn’t totally melted. She slid it across her lips and then surveyed herself in the mirror
Not perfect, but presentable. At least my freckles don’t stand out so much with a little color.
Eric was waiting for her when she emerged, leaning on the wall at the top of the stairs. He smiled nervously as he looked her up and down. “You look like you feel better.”
She nodded. “A little. Just trying not to think about it for now. I don’t want to screw up whatever I’m supposed to be doing in this hindsight because my head’s flaming out.”
“You and me both. Sorry for . . . well, just sorry. I’ll meet you downstairs.” He bolted again, leaving her shaking her head. What was he sorry for? Sorry for caring? Sorry for treating her like a person? Or, could he have overheard Iris . . . no. That just didn’t fit.
But if his goal was to keep her confused, he was doing a fine job.
Chapter Eleven
WHY IN THE hell does she have to look so good? He’d just managed to get to where he could face Holly again, and then she came out of the bathroom looking totally hot and smelling like cherry pie. They really needed to get this hindsight over with so he could go find something to do outside. Because the more time he was spending with her, the worse it was fighting to keep his hands off her.
And could there possibly be a worse time for this? Not only was there a major crisis, she’d just lost one sister, and the other one . . . well, he wasn’t sure what was wrong with her, but she didn’t seem quite right. Whatever she was scared of, she wasn’t faking, but he wasn’t sure snakes were the problem.
Eric crowded into the small armory where Charles’s bed had been moved. “Okay, so let’s go over this,” Tony said when Holly appeared. “We’re going to skip doing a hindsight on Lucas. I just don’t trust myself enough to try this on a human, and we have no idea what shape his brain’s in right now. Charles seems to be in good shape, except that he’s in some sort of coma.” He shrugged. “It might be self-induced for all we know. But since he instructed it to be done, we’re going ahead.” He held out his hand and flicked his fingers. “Here’s where we start the touchy-feely part that I hate. Thompson and I get to hold hands like kiddies on the playground, and since I’ve never tried to take two people along for the ride, you and Holly will need to both hold my hand. I think it’ll have to be the same hand, but you might try holding your other hands too. Complete the circuit, as it were. No promises on whether this is going to work. I might wind up taking along one or the other of you. But once we’ve started, neither of you let go. Okay?”
The onlookers moved to the side so Holly could get close. Tony had brought in chairs for them to sit on and when he sat down on the one closest to Charles, it left Holly sitting next to Eric, so close that their legs touched from thigh to knee.
He tried to concentrate on what Tony was saying, but it was harder than he imagined. Holly’s leg was soft and slender and thrummed with power, and her scent—
“You get that, Thompson?” Tony snapped his fingers inches from his face. Once again, he’d gotten distracted. That was getting annoying—and dangerous.
“Neither of us let go. Got it.”
“And neither of you comment when I’m watching the memories. We’re just there to take in images, and some of them are rough. Most people fixate on the last important thing they did. In this case, it’ll probably be bloody. He was pretty ripped up when he came in. But we have to live through it, and nothing there can hurt you. Got it?”
They both nodded and Tony took off his black gloves and wiggled his fingers. “Sorry if they’re sweaty, but it’s the only way to avoid visions. Holly, you first and then Eric. You’ll have to scrunch together. I’ll try not to make this too long so you don’t cramp up.”
Holly reached out her hand and Tony took it. Then Eric placed his hand over Holly’s. She slid her fingers through his and there was suddenly tension in the air. Tony looked at each of them in turn and then at their joined hands. He got an odd look on his face. At Eric’s questioning look, he just shook his head. “Never mind. You’ll figure it out. Let’s get started. Everybody keep their lips zipped. We’re going in.”
Tony shut his eyes and touched Charles’s face. Darkness descended on the room so abruptly that Eric wondered who turned out the lights. But it wasn’t just the lights. He couldn’t sense any other people nearby except Tony.
“You guys both with me?” Tony’s voice echoed in the darkness.
�
��I’m here.” And then she was. Holly glowed green-gold in the darkness, seeming to be across a vast room. Apparently she could see the colored band around herself too. She held up her hand to her face in wonder. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing,” Tony said after a moment. “You’re just seeing what I see every day. You’re in my head right now and I have second sight. But if you want to see something interesting, touch each other.”
His voice sounded amused. Eric held out his hand, noticing the rich blue band around each finger. When he touched Holly’s hand, the colors merged and turned the rich turquoise of a peacock feather.
“Pretty!” Holly’s voice sounded delighted. She held out her hand toward Tony, whose aura was a pale, gunmetal gray. “What color do you think it’ll make if I touch you?”
Tony gave that same secretive smile. “There won’t be one. That’s the interesting part.” He touched her hand to prove his point. There was no merging of colors. Just green touching gray. “But we have things to do. I’ll let you two mull that over on your own time.”
“But I don’t—” There wasn’t time for Eric to finish his sentence, because light suddenly flooded his vision, so bright it hurt his eyes.
Tony had said to expect a battle, so Eric prepared himself for the worst. But there were no biting snakes or swooping raptors. Instead, there was a quiet study and Charles writing at his desk.
“Well, this is a surprise. But memories are screwy things.” Tony held up his hand and the vision stopped. He pulled backward and the picture zoomed in.” Let’s see what he’s writing.”
As they got closer, they could hear the scratch of an old fountain pen moving across the paper. Tony manipulated the image until they could see the writing as it appeared. About half of the page was already written. Holly started reading out loud, even though everybody could see it.
“ ‘I’ve discovered that writing is an exercise which improves the memory. The mere act of putting words on a page sharpens them, focuses the mind, and reminds one of things long forgotten. The issue today is forgotten memories and a stolen future. But first, let me welcome you, Tony.’ ”