by May Dawson
He gave me a long look, as if I risked disappointing him. My jaw worked; I hadn’t felt so lost since I was a kid.
I’d learned to always put the mission first, to kill when it was necessary. Anything else was weakness. It made me feel as if I were stumbling.
“If he’s alone, and I can avoid it, I won’t kill him,” I said.
I wasn’t sure why Rafe cared. As he nodded, I could almost feel his relief. But why? Shouldn’t he want what was most practical for the mission?
Was Rafe worrying about my psychological well-being? The thought was so surreal, it almost made me smile. I’d gone my whole life without anyone worrying about the possibility of any long-term damage.
The two of us climbed the long, curling stairs that wound down past each floor to the main level of the museum. An enormous sundial filled the center of the space, and light poured through the ceiling of the museum several stories above to fall on the sundial.
“Back off,” I told Rafe, meaning it in more ways than one. “But stay near the doors in case we need to make a break for it.”
If we had to, I’d rip open a portal right here to get us out if we were trapped, but I’d rather not attract that much attention. Besides, it went against the Rebel code to open portals if we could avoid it; every time we did, the fabric between worlds was strained a little tighter.
He nodded and kept heading down the stairs as I turned to my right, stepping off the massive circular staircase and on to the second floor. It was the geology wing, and I sauntered through a display of emeralds and diamonds displayed alongside pyrite and crystal; none of them were worth much in this world.
Geology isn’t very interesting in any world. I was alone once I walked deeper, into a display about the eradication of dust worms. Eradication was a bit of exaggeration, but then the Establishment was a master of that. Dust worms still existed in other realms, and sometimes they made their way into our world.
I stopped, studying the twelve-foot-long dust worm that had been stuffed and frozen in time. Its yawning maw was open, revealing two rows of jagged teeth—like a shark that traveled through the earth.
“Just a baby, really,” I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “Well, Frederick?”
There was a hesitation behind me, then a soft footfall. “You knew I was there.”
“Of course. You’ve always been clumsy at surveillance.”
“Condescending.” His tone was amused; he never took offense easily. “You haven’t changed.”
“But you have, haven’t you?”
He came to stand next to me, both of us studying the dust worm as if it were deeply interesting to us. I couldn’t stand to look at him when I might have to kill him. I didn’t have to look at him to imagine the look on his face, though. We knew each other too well.
“No, I haven’t,” he said.
My brows arched. “From Rebel to Establishment? Seems like a pretty big flip to me.”
He huffed a laugh. “Come on, Silas. You’ve never been stupid.”
“How’d you recognize me?” I hadn’t used magic in the museum, not yet.
“Oh, you’re most upset at the possibility you might’ve fucked up, huh?”
“I’m pretty concerned about Isabelle and the others as well,” I said.
He went quiet at that. “It’s how you carry yourself. I’d recognize you anywhere, Silas. You’re my brother.”
I wanted to say something glib, but he knew me so well. My mouth went dry at the thought of how close I’d come to killing him, and how I still might have to.
“What do you want, Frederick?” My voice came out flat. Maybe Frederick deserved better than that—you’re my brother, Christ, had he said those words to manipulate me or did he mean them?—but it was the best I could do right now. “And should I expect the Establishment at any moment?”
“No! They don’t know I’m here.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to save Isabelle and Sebastian.”
I nodded, tucking my hands behind my back. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure we were still alone.
“How’d you know I would be here?”
He shifted his weight to one side, running his hand through his chin-length hair.
“You always look guilty as sin itself when you’re up to something,” I said. “You’re not the best person to double cross the Establishment. Or to double cross me, if that’s the plan instead.”
He flashed me a look full of hurt, but he didn’t bother to argue with me. “I intercepted a prophecy about Maddie Northsea, seeking relics. It was all coded the way the Fae write—you know. No one else seems to have figured out what the hell it means. But eventually, even the Establishment will make sense of it.”
“A prophecy? From the seers?” Keen had made a habit of intercepting the prophecy that supposedly came from the Shen monastery; it had given us an edge fighting against the Establishment. That was what had brought me to Maddie and the academy in the first place.
He exhaled. “Listen carefully—I don’t have much time before Campbell comes looking for me.”
“He doesn’t trust you? How hurtful.”
But Frederick couldn’t be baited at the moment.
“Sebastian, Isabelle, the others—they’re all still in Elegiah. They plan to transfer them in two days to the penal colony in the Grave Sea.”
Once they reached the penal colony, they were all dead. Elegiah was bad enough.
“Are you sure they’re still alive?” I asked.
His cheeks flushed faintly. “Yes.”
“It’s a trap,” I said.
“Of course it’s a trap,” he said flatly. “They assume you’ll attack the convoy because that’s the weakest point, the best chance to rescue them all. But they’ll be waiting for you.”
I studied Frederick’s face, because I had to read him. He was never good at masking himself; his red lips pressed together stubbornly as if he was holding himself back from asking me for anything; he knew me well enough to know I’d do whatever I thought was best. His cheeks flushed even more as if he felt my gaze and knew what was on my mind, even though he never looked away from the dust worm. Christ, the Establishment should see right through him. Was he leading me into a trap? Did he even know it?
Or had he managed to outsmart them for a while, just long enough to get himself killed?
“I’m going to take your memory before you leave here,” I said. “Don’t find me again.”
He crossed his arms, his jaw setting impatiently. He muttered, “I won’t remember you telling me that.”
“Tell me everything. Then let me tinker,” I said.
He raised one eyebrow. “You haven’t changed.”
“I never do.” Maybe that was a lie—had the academy changed me?—but it was what he needed to hear at the moment.
He turned to look at me then, and I saw my best friend, the kid who had been with me all my life, as if his old faces were flickering into view along with his grown version; the freckles across a snub nose, the stubborn little chin that had hardened into a powerful jaw. Fred had deep amber eyes that used to flood with tears when we were boys, even though the rest of us had given up crying while we were still in the crib. No one ever came for us. But maybe Frederick was tougher than the rest of us, in his own way.
Then he said, “I trust you.”
I nodded as I gripped the side of his face, just for a second, letting my magic flow through my fingertips and sink into his brain, wiping out the last ten minutes. Manipulating anyone’s mind was a clumsy operation. I tried to twist his intentions too—Silas can’t help me, he’s always been a worthless prick—so he’d stay away from me and stay safe.
I’d bring Isabelle home to him, but I couldn’t reassure him of that without endangering the mission. Better to let my friend suffer a little in the short term.
“Close your eyes and count to twenty, and when reach the end, you’ll have lost your faith in me,” I whispered.
&
nbsp; It was hard to give up a friend’s trust, but then, I never shied away from what was hard.
Not when there was a mission.
I left him there counting and didn’t look back. I strode back past the glittering jewels at the mouth of the exhibit and jogged quickly down the stairs, searching for an enemy. But there was only Rafe standing to one side of the sun dial, studying an exhibit map.
Would these friends trust me enough to let me save my oldest friends?
Or should I lie to them?
Chapter Twenty
Maddie
Jensen and I stood deep in the woods behind the cottage. I balanced myself with his shoulder while I jerked off my boots and socks then stood barefoot on a folded blanket to keep my feet out of the frost-coated grass. I undressed grimly, handing my clothes to Jensen; he slung my coat and my jeans over his arm as I shivered.
“I hate this,” I groused, shaking out my shoulders and trying to relax my muscles, but the cold made me tense. My nipples were so painfully stiff they hurt, and I crossed my arms, trying to keep my breasts warm, at least.
“The sooner you wolf out, the sooner you’ll be toasty warm.” Jensen didn’t sound all that sympathetic.
Maybe he was annoyed with me because he couldn’t shift himself. My lack of enthusiasm about the shift might rankle.
We should talk about that later, but for now, I closed my eyes and thought of my wolf, hoping to summon her. I imagined her bounding out from between the white-barked trees. I wanted to believe she wasn’t dead, but was merely locked away in my subconscious. Her dark-rimmed eyes would be bright and her mouth smiling mischievously, the way it always had before when I managed to glimpse her, when I wasn’t deep inside.
I’d always had to work to change into her. A familiar knot of dread rose in my stomach as I tried to imagine the change. I pushed away the memories of pain; of snapping muscles, of ligaments tearing as they re-formed around altered bones, of spitting out teeth and blood.
Suddenly, I was on my knees in the snow; Jensen stood over me. He was smiling, even though those golden eyes were sad.
No, I wasn’t on my knees. I was on my paws.
I’d changed.
And I hadn’t even felt it hurt.
He knelt, rubbing his hand over my head. “It’s good to see you, girl. I know Maddie misses you. Time to go back to sleep.”
The frosty air smelled delicious, and I wanted to run through the trees, to see the world and play. I whined, cocking my head at Jensen.
“I don’t think I can join you,” he admitted. “Try to change back. Picture a beautiful blond woman with freckles on her nose and a ridiculously smart mouth who should really be nicer to her boyfriends—”
I could see my own face in my mind. The world blurred.
Suddenly I was on my knees on the blanket, and the next second I glared up at Jensen, even as he rushed to help me get dressed. I was shivering so hard my back ached as I pulled my sweater back over my head.
“What?” he demanded, his face innocent. “I said you’re beautiful. Why are you glaring at me?”
“You wait until you hear how I describe you when I’m trying to get you back from your wolf.”
His face clouded, but he said, “Right.”
Before I could respond, he stepped behind me so I couldn’t see his expression, holding my coat out for me. I slipped it on and turned to take my gloves.
The two of us stared at each other as fat flakes of snow drifted down from the sky. I hoped he could shift, but it hadn’t worked before. I was sure Jensen hoped he had his wolf back even more than I wished for mine, because while I loved my bright-eyed wolf, she always resisted me. It was hard for me to shift. But he loved being the wolf.
When he used to struggle with being Jensen McCauley—Eliza’s brother, the dean’s son—at least he could escape into his other self. He’d told me that once, when I was curled up in his arms, my head tucked under his jaw. It was easier for him to whisper his secrets to me in the darkness.
I’d like to think he’d left much of the shame he used to feel in the past. But maybe it was still hard to be Jensen McCauley sometimes.
“I don’t want to try,” he confessed suddenly.
“I understand,” I said, stepping into him. I put my hands on his chest. It bothered me that I was the one who could change now, when I always used to struggle the most. “I wish I knew… I wish you were the one who could shift.”
He frowned. “Why? You love your wolf too.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never been very good at being a wolf.”
Those words felt weighty to me, but they just made Jensen smile. He pulled my gloved hands up to his chest, folding them inside his own. “Maybe you aren’t as good at shifting because you’re really good at other stuff, Sparklefingers.”
“But our wolves are the core of who we are. That’s why the packs are falling apart…”
He cocked an eyebrow doubtfully at the guilt in my voice, and I heard how ridiculous it was for the first time. Then he admitted, “I grew up thinking I’d be a wolf, that being a shifter was the core of my identity.”
“I thought the core of your identity was being the hot prick basketball player in your high school.”
“You make me sound so shallow and popular,” he said, before sighing. “And I was. It was great. But even though at the time, no matter how I said I wanted to let Eliza and Will be the heroes, I always knew I’d be a wolf. I couldn’t outrun that…destiny.” His lips quirked as if he found the word destiny ridiculous.
“It didn’t make you feel trapped?”
“It did,” he said, “but I also felt safe. People can be funny that way. We don’t always want to leave our prisons, even if we rattle the bars every now and then.”
“Now the packs have lost the core of their identity, and they’re struggling,” I said. “We’re all struggling.”
Jensen said, “Maybe the core of my identity is that I love your ass.”
“You are ridiculous, Jensen McCauley.” But it felt good to joke with him, because I’d worried he would resent me because I could shift and he couldn’t.
He waggled his eyebrows at me—only Jensen could do that in a way that was sexy—and began to strip. I reached for his clothes, but he just smirked at me as he rucked his shirt up. “Just sit back and enjoy the show, sweetheart.”
“You are so cocky,” I said.
But I did enjoy the show, as he peeled off his shirt and threw it over his shoulder. He stuck a thumb into the waistband of his jeans and pulled them away from his taut abs, flashing me a look of challenge, that reminded me of how we’d flirted-slash-hated each other in that hotel room on our first adventure together. I crossed my arms and watched him, not even pretending that I didn’t enjoy watching him, until he stood there in all his glory: all chiseled muscles and broad, tattooed chest and the lean taper of his waist.
He shook out his shoulders and a look of concentration came over his face as he tried to turn.
His shoulders shook, his muscles rippling, and it looked as if they were swelling the way the guys did when they partially transformed. I could’ve sworn his face started to change. And then suddenly, it was just Jensen, shaking his head, his face tight with frustration. I wondered if I’d imagined the signs he was shifting.
“Did you feel anything?” I asked.
“I thought I did for a second, and then…” He shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Jensen,” I said.
He frowned. “Why are you apologizing to me?”
“Because it sucks?”
“No, that’s not it,” he disagreed. “You feel bad that you can do something I can’t, don’t you?”
He stepped close to me, cupping my cheek. If I’d been him, I would have been freezing, but Jensen had always run hot; even with the cold outside, I could feel the warmth of his body.
“Don’t waste that guilt on me,” he said. “Yeah, I’m struggling without my wolf. We’re all struggling. But I can still be happy y
ou’ve got yours. I want all the good things in the world for you. Even if I can’t have some of them myself.”
My eyes flooded with tears, blurring the fierce affection on his face. It had been a long few weeks, and he wrapped me up tight in his arms.
“So I’m struggling,” he murmured into my ear. “That’s all right. I’m never struggling alone, and neither are you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Lex
It was a miracle we were all alive, and all Rosemary could do was bitch.
Penn was in a much better mood than she was, and he’d poured Quick-Clot into his wound, burning his skin red even though it kept the gouge marks from the alpha’s teeth from bleeding any further. He was lying in the backseat, pretending to sleep—but I was pretty sure that was just because he didn’t want to participate in Rosemary’s complain-o-rama.
“I don’t have any of my stuff,” she fussed in the car, when she finally started talking. “Everything is back at the pack. My clothes, my makeup—”
“You don’t need makeup at the academy.”
“I’m not going to your stupid academy.”
I huffed a disbelieving laugh. “Oh? Where are you going, then?”
She twisted to look away from me, her hand on the door as if she might just jump out. For the first time, I noticed her hands looked ragged and dirty; I hadn’t seen her look grubby since we were kids.
“What happened back there?” I demanded.
She shot me a look and didn’t answer.
I didn’t want to fight with her. Not now that the thought of what might have happened in the alpha’s house was cold in my gut.
But if she didn’t want to talk to me, I wouldn’t push her. Not now, in front of Penn, especially.
“I tried to convince Mom to come with us,” I said, just for something to say.
She gave me a long look, as if I were an idiot. “You’re a slow learner.”
She was probably right on that count, but my jaw still set. “Nice, Rosemary.”