Geary stopped in front of his son and poked a finger into his chest. “This is the second time today that you’ve embarrassed me in front of our hosts. I don’t care what your personal feelings are for that woman, it is no excuse for your behavior.”
Jonas blinked hard, as though he couldn’t believe his father’s words. He’d paled considerably, lost every hint of confrontational energy, and he just seemed . . . confused. “I’m sorry, Alpha,” he said.
“This cannot continue, Mitch,” McQueen said. “We have enough outside enemies trying to destroy us. We cannot keep fighting among ourselves.”
“You’re right, Thomas,” Geary said. “I’ll abide by your decision in this matter.”
“Thank you.” McQueen moved closer to Jonas, his presence intimidating the younger loup into hunching. “Your people are welcome to my hospitality, Jonas Geary. You, however, are not.”
Jonas’s eyes widened as McQueen’s statement sank in. Brynn let out a surprised squawk when she realized the severity of the punishment. Even Rook, Jillian and Bishop looked startled.
“Too much is at stake for personal prejudices to tear us apart,” McQueen continued. “I’m asking you to leave Cornerstone.”
“You’re banishing me, sir?” Jonas asked.
McQueen nodded. “Once our current problems are resolved, your status will be reexamined.”
Jonas cast a searching look at his father, who simply turned his back. The sight broke Brynn’s heart a little. She disliked Jonas, but he seemed so young and lost in that moment. He didn’t argue his punishment. He also didn’t slink out of town like a beaten dog. Jonas squared his shoulders, held his head up, and turned east. He was a Black Wolf and the Alpha’s son, and he carried himself as such. She watched him until he disappeared down the road leading past the auction house, toward the town limits.
Jillian crouched next to Bishop and whispered, “Didn’t your mother teach you not to chase cars?”
Bishop’s mouth twitched. “Technically, that one chased me.”
“You have some explaining to do, Alan,” McQueen said to the local loup with the bloody nose. “I want you in my office in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” Alan said.
“Bishop?”
“I know,” Bishop said. “Someone went for him.”
“Good.”
Dr. Mike turned the corner with his black bag in hand. Brynn removed herself to the sidewalk to wait while he saw to his patient, unsure what to do next. Her lovely conversation with Rook had been ruined by the fight, but it also gave her time to think.
His admission of his sexual history had surprised her—not that he’d opened up to her with explicit detail, but the things he had said were important. Enough to glean that he’d never been in an actual relationship before, because he couldn’t date a human, and dating another Cornerstone loup was one step away from a marriage proposal. Loup rules continued to befuddle her in so many ways. Her own sexual exploits could be counted on exactly two fingers, so it was not as though she was the experienced older woman seducing the younger man. They were probably somewhat balanced on that scale.
Nothing about their relationship was simple, so it didn’t surprise her that one more thing was added to the list. Normal people who were interested in each other went out on dates, tested their sexual compatibility, and then either stayed together or broke up. For Rook, testing their sexual compatibility was akin to announcing their engagement, and he respected her too much for sex to ever be casual.
An admirable trait so few men possessed, and to find it in a warrior like Rook McQueen? Amazing.
She didn’t notice Rook stand or come over to her. She was simply aware of his presence by her side, a warmth and constant she desperately needed.
“Jillian’s going with him to Dr. Mike’s,” Rook whispered.
She nodded, glad for that. Bishop was on his feet and walking, but even a loup garou could be injured by a moving vehicle. She appreciated McQueen’s protectiveness with his people. After a moment, she realized they were alone on this section of the sidewalk. Even Larry had gotten into his idling car and left.
“You okay?”
“I’m not sure,” Brynn said. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Which part?”
“Any of it, but especially Jonas being banished from town.”
“Alan was wrong in denying them access to the diner, but Jonas is unstable. He’s allowing personal feelings to get in the way of what’s best for the community.”
“I goaded him.”
“You were right. The Psycho Siblings have the blood of all three races, and there’s enough blame to go around. Jonas can’t heap all of this onto the Magi just because you’re a convenient target.”
“It still feels wrong that he’s banished and I’m here.”
“Brynn.” He squeezed her elbow, and she looked at him. “You’re one of us. You have every right to be here.”
“Do I? I was raised as a Magus, Rook, and we don’t know how much of me is loup garou. I don’t imagine many Cornerstone residents will like me any better now that this has happened.”
“Hopefully they’ll surprise you.”
She nodded, unconvinced. “Can we return to your home? I think I’d like to lie down for a while.”
“Of course. Do you feel okay?”
“Yes, just tired.”
She also wanted some time alone to think about everything that had happened today, especially her father’s phone call. A piece of information tickled the back of her mind, teasing her with its presence without coming forward and presenting itself. Something about the Magi that was relevant to everything happening today. Perhaps some relaxation would nudge it into the foreground.
She had to do something to help.
***
Knight paused on the stairs as the jaw-popping yawn that attacked him made his eyes water and his head spin. The steaming mug of coffee in his hands was supposed to help with that, even though what he really needed was sleep. Uninterrupted, dreamless sleep.
As if.
He’d been at Dr. Mike’s for hours, hiding from the intense emotions of his family and dividing his time between visiting with Devlin and sitting next to Shay. Devlin was alert and talking, but the gashes in his chest and torso were deep. Dr. Mike wanted to keep an eye on him until he was strong enough to shift and speed up the healing process, and Devlin was a terrible patient. Much like Rook, Devlin wasn’t a fan of sitting still, or of admitting to injury or weakness.
They’d also been friends for their entire lives. Devlin knew when to push and when to keep his mouth shut—one of the main reasons Knight was still hiding out at Dr. Mike’s. Devlin wouldn’t try to make him talk about Fiona or anything else contributing to his agitated state.
During a distracting discussion of the merits of Devlin wearing a hat and boots like Knight’s at the next auction, a stranger knocked on his door. She was their age, pretty with short brown hair and the hard, muscular body of someone who’d always known a difficult life. Her faint pine and fish scent betrayed her as one of the Potomac survivors.
Knight’s nose twitched. She was also half human.
“Rachel,” Devlin said. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she said.
“This is Knight McQueen. Knight, Rachel Kowalski from Potomac.”
“Nice to meet you,” Knight said.
“Likewise.” Rachel smiled at Devlin and a faint blush stained her cheeks. “I wanted to check on you. I didn’t have a chance until now.”
“Thank you for coming,” Devlin said.
Knight had caught on to the significant look Devlin was giving him. He dropped his empathy shield enough to catch a lot of positive vibes from both of them. He’d politely excused himself for coffee, to which Devlin pointedly said, “Good idea, because you look like shit on a cracker, pal.”
After the yawn passed, Knight continued his ascent. As he reached the first landing, the front door opened. He’d heard Dr. Mike rush out a few minutes ago. Knight paused just out of sight and listened, curious about the emergency.
“I’ve had concussions before,” Bishop said. Knight’s eyebrows rose. “This one, if it even is a concussion, is incredibly minor, Doc.”
“I’ll judge that if you don’t mind, son,” Dr. Mike replied. “Unless you’ve gone and graduated medical school since this morning.”
What on earth? Knight went back downstairs, careful to not slosh his coffee. Bishop and Dr. Mike had already disappeared through the waiting area and into an exam room. Jillian lingered in the foyer with an odd look on her face and emotions that flickered between amusement and concern. Considering the fact that Bishop had said the word “concussion,” the amusement confused him.
“What happened?” he asked.
“The long version or the short version?” Jillian replied.
“Short.”
“Bishop was hit by a car.”
“Excuse me?” He waited for her to explain further and she didn’t. “Long version now, please.”
Knight listened with growing incredulity as she relayed secondhand the bulk of the events that had played out on Main Street. He understood Father’s reason for kicking Jonas Geary out of town—his prejudices and temper were going to get someone else killed, and could have easily killed Bishop. He also knew, more than anyone else, that he bore a load of responsibility for that fight. He served an important function as a White Wolf, and he wasn’t doing his job. He was angry, frustrated, and lost in his own head, and that wasn’t doing anyone any good. Not when emotions were running so high.
His run needed him, and he was hiding at the doctor’s office.
Jillian touched his arm, and he flinched back. She smiled and folded her hands behind her back. “Bishop will be fine.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you look so devastated just now?”
He really needed to keep better control of his facial expressions. He didn’t have to censor himself with Devlin, and Shay was catatonic. Everyone else would try to help, even though they had no idea what the real problem was. No, that wasn’t completely true. Rook knew. He hadn’t said it out loud, but Rook knew.
“I’m just exhausted.” He hefted his mug of coffee. “It’s been a long three days and something tells me it’s only going to get worse.”
“You may be right.” She paused. Her expression remained even, but concern colored her emotions, and instead of accepting it, he steeled himself against it. “Knight, you can tell me to mind my own business, but if you need someone to talk to—”
“I’ll pass.” He didn’t care if he was being rude.
“I didn’t mean me. My run’s White Wolf’s name is Agnes. She’s older, sixty-five this fall, but she’s smart. She’s seen a lot in her years and might be a good ear to bend.”
He rarely had the chance to speak to other Whites. There was no such thing as a White Wolf support group, no hotline to call and vent his frustrations. No group chant to relieve the stress of dealing with the emotions of others all day, every day of their lives. No twelve steps toward a healthy, happy, mentally stable White Wolf life. Many went mad before they reached the age of fifty; Knight figured he’d be lucky if he made it to thirty with his sanity intact.
“I appreciate that,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”
“Please do.”
He escaped back upstairs, right into Shay’s room. He’d told Devlin he would be right back and only felt a tiny twinge of guilt for abandoning his wounded friend for the empty stare of a catatonic stranger. He shut the bedroom door and put his mug down on the side table before he spilled it. His entire body felt numb. He sank down into the bedside chair and dropped his face into his hands.
Bishop was hurt. Jonas was banished. Tempers were running high all around town, and Knight was in no shape to help anyone. The only job anyone really expected out of him—time spent at the auction house felt like busy work most days, a way to make the hours pass more pleasantly—and he was failing. Failing everyone. Failing himself most of all.
“You know what’s funny?” he asked his legs. He had no idea if Shay could hear him, or if she was trapped inside of her own horrible memories. He liked talking to someone who didn’t try to fix him. “I’ve spent twenty-five years not feeling sorry for myself for being a White Wolf, and now I can’t do anything else. I hate it. I hate self-pity. I just don’t know how to turn it off.”
He flopped back into the chair. Stared up at the ceiling.
“It’s hard to get a handle on my own crap when I’ve got everyone else’s coming at me from all directions. I mean, it’s not like I can turn off my empathy completely. There’s no switch. I can try to block it out for a little while, but it’s always there waiting for me when I stop concentrating.” He blew a harsh breath through clenched teeth. “I just need to get past it, that’s all.”
Easier said than done. The wound had healed, but he could still feel Victoria’s teeth puncturing his thigh. The burn of her bite and the venom she’d injected searing through his bloodstream. Doing what nature couldn’t. Her hands on him. Her face looming above him, while blood loss and silver exposure kept him from fighting back.
He couldn’t get past it if he couldn’t admit to it. How was he supposed to say it out loud? To tell his father that he—
Cotton rustled to his left. Knight sat up so quickly he almost fell out of his chair. Shay’s formerly relaxed hands were clenching the bedsheet. Her face hadn’t lost that vacant stare, but a single tear tracked from her right eye into her hair. Heart pounding, Knight shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. He covered one of her cool hands with his and squeezed. The physical connection grounded him, soothed him in a way he couldn’t explain, and it reminded him of why he was by her side.
“Shay?” he said in his gentling White Wolf voice. “Shay, it’s Knight. Can you hear me?”
Her eyes, wide and dark, brightened with liquid, and another tear spilled from her left eye.
“Shay, you’re safe here. Remember? You’re in a very safe house, surrounded by loup garou who will fight for you. It’s okay to come back out and talk to me.”
The hand under his relaxed, then clenched. Knight leaned forward and brushed his fingertips across her left cheek, hoping the stimulus helped. She still had a few bruises on her face, dark splotches on otherwise porcelain skin. He hated that she’d been hurt so badly and was desperate to make it better.
“My name’s Knight and you’re in Pennsylvania, far away from the people who hurt you. We know who they are, Shay, and they can’t get you here. I know it hurts, but you can come out.”