by SM Reine
Perhaps Sophie saw in him the emotions that warred inside of herself.
“Do you not fear what it would mean to tear your soul asunder?” she asked.
“I’m a hell of a lot more afraid of what happens if I don’t,” Lincoln said. “Now go watch the window.”
Sophie lifted the curtain again.
Just in time to see a woman approaching the door.
“Someone’s here!” she hissed.
Lincoln swore colorfully, throwing the folders back into the cabinet and slamming it shut.
The door opened. A woman stepped inside, as short as Sophie but several years younger. She had huge golden eyes and skinny legs and a white sundress. Based on how dirty her feet were, it looked like she hadn’t worn shoes in years.
“Summer told me that the great Deputy Lincoln Marshall was around,” the newcomer said. “I almost didn’t believe her. I had to see with my own eyes.”
And then Sophie realized why she recognized this woman. She had features similar to Summer’s.
This was Rylie Gresham, the pack’s Alpha werewolf. And she’d caught them breaking and entering.
Chapter 27
Lincoln Marshall had known that sneaking around the sanctuary would land him in front of an Alpha. But he figured that Alpha would be Abel, not Rylie, so he’d been braced for a very different confrontation.
He put two fingers to the brim of his hat and nodded. “Ma’am.”
“Are you looking for something?” Rylie glided toward them with lupine smoothness that made Abel look downright clunky.
“We were seeing if you had bathrooms in here,” Lincoln said, countering his own advice not to lie.
Sophie jumped in to help, bless her heart. “I’ve been searching through the supply shed with Summer all day. I lost track of time, and my need to relieve myself is now quite urgent. Would you be capable of helping us locate the nearest water closet?”
“We’ve got bathrooms a little down the hill,” Rylie said. “I’ll show you where they are.”
“Oh no, an Alpha such as yourself must have too much to do with her time. Your efforts are even more complicated given the unnatural—though admirable!—size of your pack, so much larger than the small family structures that shifters naturally seek. You’re far too busy to escort us.” Sophie was babbling, obviously nervous. If Rylie hadn’t known that they were up to trouble before, she definitely knew now. The Historian was not cut out for covert missions.
“I’m not busy at all,” Rylie said. “Please, come with me. It’ll be nice to feel useful after a few weeks of recuperation.”
“Recuperation?” Lincoln asked. “From the fighting before Genesis?”
“From the baby I had after Genesis.” She smoothed a hand down the front of her dress, and Lincoln realized that there was a tiny swell underneath.
“You’re looking mighty good for a woman who just gave birth.” It had to have been a recent event; only a few months had elapsed since Genesis, after all. Whenever Lincoln’s aunts and cousins had babies, they’d been the shape of cows for a whole year after. Rylie just looked like she’d eaten too much.
“Werewolf healing is like magic, isn’t it?” Rylie’s smile was very tight. “Come on. The bathrooms are this way.”
But Lincoln hadn’t found Elise’s phone number. He’d seen directories with important contacts—including Secretary Friederling’s home and work numbers—but there hadn’t been anything about Elise in there.
If he left now, he might never find her.
If he didn’t leave, Rylie might gut him.
Sophie was close behind Rylie as they stepped outside, divesting Lincoln of the dilemma. Even when he couldn’t decide anything else, he knew one thing: he was going to keep a close eye on Sophie no matter where she went.
They didn’t have to walk far to find the bathroom facilities. They were gender segregated, like the tents, and the lines were only slightly shorter than those waiting for food. “The women’s room is on the other side of the building,” Rylie told Sophie. “Help yourself.”
Sophie gave Lincoln a nervous look before joining the end of the line, which curved into the trees. He wouldn’t be able to see her unless he followed.
Rylie spoke as soon as Sophie was out of earshot. “Are you here to investigate the deaths at the hospice?”
Lincoln shook his head. “I meant it when I said I wouldn’t help Abel unless he helped me. I’m here for my family. That’s it.” At least, that was his official line on the matter.
Rylie looked troubled. “You’ve spoken to Abel?”
“He didn’t tell you? He picked me up in Mortise an hour after I touched down.”
“Abel must not have considered it important.” She smoothed her hand down her dress again, frowning as though she expected a much larger belly than the one she found. “I’m surprised you’re not willing to help investigate the hospice. But Seth didn’t stick around to work on it either, so maybe nobody’s worried about what happens to a bunch of old people.”
When he swallowed hard, it felt like razors in his throat. “Thanks for showing us the bathroom,” Lincoln said. “Sophie and I can take care of ourselves from here.”
“You wouldn’t make me dine alone, would you?” Rylie asked.
He swallowed again, but his mouth was even drier than before. “No ma’am.”
So when Sophie emerged, they didn’t get to go back to the office.
Being seated with the Alpha should have rendered them celebrities. Shifters worshiped their leader—the one woman capable of controlling their transformation. It hurt to shapeshift without Rylie’s goodwill. Felt like dying every single time.
Yet they waded into the common area unobserved. Nobody was interested in Rylie’s newest companions because she was instantly swarmed by dozens more. As soon as she picked a table, people filled in the benches around her. Rylie smiled at all of them and greeted some by name. Obviously this was not a woman ever at risk of dining alone.
It was so crowded under the strings of lanterns that people barely noticed Lincoln and Sophie. The only person who even looked at him twice was an old woman with her hair pulled into two thick silver braids. She wore a fringed leather jacket and hovered behind Rylie like a bodyguard. “Don’t remember seeing you around,” she asked. “Who are you two?”
“I’m Lincoln Marshall, from Northgate originally,” he said.
“Oh my goodness,” Sophie said, brightening at the old woman’s approach. “Will you please allow me to hold him?” She extended her hands as though hoping to receive a gift from the old woman.
It was only then that Lincoln realized the woman had come with a baby underneath her jacket. She wore the infant in a sling so that only his small head poked out the top. Fluffy brown curls matted his scalp.
The old woman leaned away from Sophie. “He’s sleeping.”
“It’s all right, Aunt Gwyn,” Rylie said, taking a plate of raw meat from one of her other friends. It had been cut into thin slivers, convenient to eat as finger food. The pieces swam in their own blood. “Summer told me that Sophie’s trustworthy.”
“All right.” Aunt Gwyn, as Rylie had called her, carefully loosened the sling and pulled the baby out.
Lincoln had plenty of cousins and had held plenty of babies. He still never got over how small they were. This little guy was so new he couldn’t even hold his head up on his own.
Sophie’s eyes were bright with adoration as she settled the baby in the crook of her arm. “Hello, beautiful,” she crooned, tracing a finger along his hairline. “Look at your beautiful little chin.”
“His name is Benjamin,” Rylie said. The Alpha was smiling at the baby too, leaning against Sophie’s shoulder to be close enough to caress his fists.
“Benjamin,” Sophie said fondly.
Lincoln probably should have said something complimentary about the baby, but he couldn’t come up with anything. They all looked the same to him; even werewolf babies were human most of the time.
The baby’s eyes blinked open sleepily. The irises, Lincoln was surprised to see, were not gold, but baby blue. “Mundane,” Lincoln said.
“That’s very irregular,” Sophie said. “My understanding is that two werewolves are guaranteed to produce a werewolf shape shifter. Has he been tested for any other breed?”
“Everything came back negative,” Rylie said. “But he has the appetite of a blackhole, so he may yet shapeshift into a vacuum cleaner.”
They were opening the food line to the pack now that the Alpha had been served. Rylie held her hands out to take Benjamin, but Sophie asked, “Can I keep him for now? I’m not especially hungry, and it’s special to hold a baby this young.”
“Sure. I’ll make a plate for you. The mundane food runs out fast—we can’t have you going hungry.” Rylie rose, hooked her arm in Gwyn’s. They joined the line of people gathered by the food tables.
The crowd flowed around Rylie like she was the biggest rock in the middle of a river. Even though she was obviously trying to blend in, everyone was still making room for her. She could’ve had first, second, and third dibs on the food if she wanted.
Lincoln could only tell that they were deferential rather than friendly because he’d been around enough shifters to know. Nobody met Rylie’s eyes. Whenever she passed people, their shoulders hung low and their backs hunched so that the whole crowd dropped below Rylie’s height. Sort of like waves dipping down before washing over the beach.
Rylie smiled through it all, but she didn’t exactly look happy either. “It’s lonely at the top,” Lincoln remarked, turning to see if Sophie had noticed the dynamics.
Sophie only had eyes for the baby. Her smile had disappeared, and tears raced down her cheeks.
“Whoa,” Lincoln said. “Are you okay?”
Sophie shook her head.
Lincoln could only imagine what she was thinking. As strange as this whole world was to her, Sophie had grown up being taught about magic, preternaturals, and even geneses. She had also grown up in isolation, guarded by adult men.
She’d probably never seen baby in her life.
“Sometimes, I wonder why the world is so terrible,” Sophie said quietly—so quietly that Lincoln almost wasn’t sure that he heard her. “But a few things remind me that purpose remains even when death is inevitable.”
She dipped her head down and pressed a single kiss against the baby’s forehead.
Rylie returned with two plates of food—lightly cooked steak and salad greens. “Nothing fancy,” she admitted, “but the salad is from our on-site greenhouses and I think you’ll like it.” She put one of the plates in front of Lincoln.
“Much appreciated, ma’am,” Lincoln said. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”
“I was there anyway,” she said.
“Benjamin is beginning to squirm,” Sophie said. “I think he would like to have his mother.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she gently transferred him into Rylie’s arms. “I’m going to the bathroom again.”
Sophie stepped away with her head ducked to hide her tears.
She looked so sad.
“Eat up, Lincoln. And tell me why you broke into my office,” Rylie said.
Lincoln’s eyes snapped back to Rylie. She had peeled the blankets away from her baby so that she could settle him against her exposed breast.
“Throw blanket on or something,” Lincoln said. “Nobody wants to see that.”
“You wouldn’t like eating with a blanket on your head,” Rylie said.
“It’s different. Nobody gets naked when I’m eating.” Although Lincoln thought he probably enjoy dinner a lot more if it involved naked women. “You can have some sense of decency.”
“I rip my skin off in front of the pack to turn into a wolf. It’s a lot more graphic than having one breast exposed. I’m sure that you know what to do with yourself if you don’t want to see this.” Once the baby was situated, Rylie kept him against her body with one arm. She used the other to pick at her food again. “But I’m not going to allow you to leave the sanctuary until you answer my questions. Breaking into my office risks whatever goodwill you’ve got. I hope it’s worth it.”
Damn. Nothing escaped these damn wolves. “I just wanted her phone number. Can you blame me?”
“Whose number?”
“Elise’s,” Lincoln said. “Abel didn’t tell you I was asking?”
Rylie bit her bottom lip. “He must’ve forgotten to mention that too.”
Lincoln ate the steak, which desperately needed some A1 to be edible. “That’s why I said I wasn’t gonna help with the serial killer. Abel wouldn’t help me reach Elise.”
“We don’t have her phone number.”
“You really expect me to believe that?” Lincoln asked.
“I think you two were closer in some ways. If you don’t have her number, why would I?”
Closer in some ways. He’d been close enough to Elise that he’d defied his landlady, morals, and small-town sensibilities to bring her into his life. She’d dragged Lincoln out of Hell and bent the rules of the universe to save his soul. But he had never really gotten a direct phone number for her. Elise had always been elusive.
Lincoln ate one more bite of his flavorless steak and pushed the plate away. “When’s the last time you saw her?”
“She came to Summer’s wedding a few weeks ago,” Rylie said. “I think she wanted to meet my baby.”
“That doesn’t sound like the woman I knew.” Elise would never go mushy over children like ninety-nine percent of females did. Of course, Elise had been different from ninety-nine percent of females in a lot of big ways.
“She didn’t stay very long. She vanished once she checked in on us, and nobody has seen her since.”
“Then how do you contact her?” Lincoln asked.
“I don’t. And you don’t either. Nobody does.” Rylie touched Lincoln’s hand, and there was a frightening amount of strength in that gesture. It wasn’t intended to comfort him. It was reminding him of who was in charge here. “You can obey my commands like the pack does, or you can leave my sanctuary and never come back. Right now, I’m commanding you to stop looking for Elise. Do we have an understanding?”
Lincoln glanced over at Sophie, who had crossed paths with Summer. They were holding hands as they talked.
If Lincoln left, then Sophie would too. And this was the first place he found where she might be safe.
“I understand,” he said.
“Good. Don’t take too long eating,” Rylie said. “We’ll be putting away the tables sooner than usual tonight.” Her eyes turned to the horizon, just below the ridge of tree-lined mountains, as if she could see something in the sunset Lincoln couldn’t. “Tonight’s the full moon, after all.”
Sophie walked to one of the sanctuary’s pastures, leaving the lights and voices of dinner behind. The fence posts were flat on top. She perched on one, her heels resting on the rail beneath, and let herself weep. Her tears turned the dark flanks of the cattle sleeping on the grass into impressionistic blurs. Brown on green awash in liquid grief.
The problem with tears, of course, was not that Sophie was expressing her emotions—her guardian, Tristan, had made it clear that Sophie should always feel safe expressing her emotions, and she honored him by following his guidance now. It was Tristan she wept for, really. Tristan, Omar, and all the other men who had been at her side before, who she had not seen in months.
Once she had begun, she felt like she would never stop. That was the problem. The impracticality of it. The uselessness of sobbing and hugging herself on a fence in a strange land.
“Miss Keyes?”
This was the other problem. Lincoln had inevitably come looking, and he would think her weak.
She couldn’t hide her tears, and she didn’t try. �
�Hello, Mr. Marshall. Did you enjoy dinner?”
“Not really,” he said. “Here. I brought you a plate.”
“Thank you,” Sophie said.
Lincoln rocked on his heels beside her, obviously uncomfortable. He was unlike Tristan and her other guardians. He was not interested in Sophie’s emotional health—only her physical health. And it was clear he did not know how to approach a crying woman.
Yet he did not leave.
“Have you experienced any success finding Elise Kavanagh’s contact information?” she asked, if only to fill the uncomfortable silence.
He climbed over the fence to her side, his hip leaning against the split rail. “Rylie said she doesn’t got anything on Elise.”
“You look undisturbed by this,” Sophie said.
“She’s lying,” he said. “I don’t need a wolf nose to tell. Rylie’s in touch with Elise. I’m gonna help the pack, and she’s gonna hook the two of us up. I know it.”
She wished this were true—if only for Lincoln’s sake. “Rylie seems very…distant.”
“I’m telling you, she’s sharper than she looks. New babies just do weird things to ladies. But she’s fine. I watched my cousins go through the same thing.” Lincoln finally looked directly at her. His expression got soft and weird. “You’ve probably never been around babies, huh?”
Sophie swiped at her tears with her thumb. “Historians are isolated from everyone but their guardians, who are already adolescents when they begin service.”
“That’s fucked up,” Lincoln said.
“It’s safe,” she said.
“But that means your father didn’t raise you,” he said. “A father’s meant to be with his kids. It’s more than his job. It’s his purpose.”
“As your father raised you?”
“Yeah, he raised me like that,” Lincoln said. “But not his other son. For some reason, the man who taught me about fatherhood and being a man sent away one of his sons. And he won’t tell me why.”