Nothing.
“Please, talk to me. I swear I’ll protect you.”
Her chest heaved. Shay closed her eyes and her entire face crumpled. She lurched up, off the bed, and he pulled her close as a wrenching sob tore itself loose. She clutched at his shirt. He stroked her hair, her arms, her back, while she cried against his neck, her scent filling his nose as her grief filled his heart to bursting. He tried to collect her pain, to keep it for himself, but there was so much. So much so fast. It overwhelmed him and had nowhere to go except out.
He ignored his own tears, telling himself they were falling for her pain, not his. He held her as she let out her rage and fear and took that first, desperate step toward healing.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I won’t let go, I promise.”
Chapter Twenty
Brynn hadn’t gone to her room with the intention of falling asleep. She never napped. Napping left her more tired and groggy than when she first went to sleep, and this was no exception. She blinked bleary eyes at the numbers on the alarm clock—after five. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her it was suppertime.
She stretched her limbs as she sat up. Her mind was unusually quiet, given how quickly her thoughts had been racing before she dozed off. Thoughts she couldn’t properly sort out, no matter how hard she tried, and at the very top of her list were Rook and Archimedes. She needed to confront her father and not over the telephone. She had to look him in the eye and ask what he knew about the hybrid hostiles. Only then would she know if he was lying to her.
The floorboards outside her bedroom door creaked an instant before someone knocked.
“Come in,” Brynn said.
Jillian poked her head inside. “Alpha McQueen has called another meeting, and he’d like you there.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“All right. In the library?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be right down. How’s Bishop?”
“Hardheaded, apparently.”
Jillian slipped out, leaving the door wide open. As Brynn bent to put her shoes on, she noticed a small pile of laundry on the foot of the bed. Someone had washed her clothes.
Thank you, Mrs. Troost.
While she appreciated the use of the sundress, she’d be glad to get out of the flimsy cotton and into clothes less likely to flash her underwear in a stiff wind. Later, though, after she took a shower and washed away the sweat and grime of the longest day of her life. She stopped in the bathroom to splash water on her face and pee, and then went downstairs.
The library was occupied by everyone she expected to be there—McQueen, Geary, Jillian, Bishop, Rook, and Knight. The only person whose presence surprised her was Dr. Mike. She took a seat on one of the sofas next to Jillian, across the room from Rook. He met her gaze and offered such a warm smile that her heart pounded a little harder, and she couldn’t do anything except smile back.
“Knight, this is your meeting,” McQueen said.
Knight had chosen one of the chairs, and he slid forward a bit, hands loose in his lap. He looked exhausted, wrung out, and he didn’t address anyone in particular when he said, “Shay started talking again.”
A jolt of happiness shot through Brynn at the news, and her joy was reflected in the faces around her. Only Dr. Mike didn’t seem surprised. The attentive audience shifted in their seats, restraining what had to be a litany of questions wanting to be asked.
“She’s still a mess, but not as bad as before. She was able to give me some details about the attack in Stonehill,” Knight continued, still speaking to his hands. “The attack began just before dawn, hours before that anonymous phone call, and she was asleep when it started. She woke to the sounds of fighting downstairs in the Alpha’s home. When she went to investigate she was attacked. Her description could be any of the vampire hybrids.”
“How was she not killed like the others?” Geary asked.
“Shay recalls being down, seriously wounded, waiting to be killed, and she says the girl simply stopped attacking. She leaned over, smelled her, then turned and left. Shay crawled into a closet beneath the stairs and locked herself inside.”
“That’s where we found her,” Bishop said. “They spared her life.”
Knight nodded. “It sounds that way. If Chelsea Butler really is the mother of those hybrids, they probably recognized Shay’s scent.”
“The question is, did they know whose run they were attacking? Did they expect to find Shay?”
“No idea.” Knight’s expression soured. “We’ll have to add that to the list of questions for Fiona.”
“Son,” McQueen said. “Did you tell Shay about her connection to the hostiles?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. He sat up a little straighter, as though standing up for his decision. “We couldn’t have hidden it for long, and she deserves to know the whole truth.”
Brynn studied the Alpha’s reaction, but she couldn’t determine if he agreed with Knight’s choice or not. Bishop didn’t seem happy, and Rook’s face was oddly blank.
“How did she take it?” Bishop asked.
“How do you think?” Knight rubbed his hands over his face, then through his hair. “Sorry. She didn’t believe me at first, so I told her everything we knew. After that, she seemed less skeptical. She’s upset and grieving, but she isn’t as fragile as we first thought.”
“And she only ever saw one of the vampire hybrids?” McQueen asked. “She never saw Fiona?”
“Not that she mentioned, no.”
“Shay’s information fits with our theory that Chelsea Butler is the mother of Fiona, Victoria, and their sisters. Now we need to figure out who their fathers are.”
“To what end?” Geary asked.
“Because a happily married White Wolf doesn’t walk away from her run one day for no good reason. A Magus and vampire don’t sire children with a loup for no good reason. Perhaps discovering their paternity will help shed some light on the motivation for creating these hybrids in the first place, as well as help us find them before they kill again.”
The nugget of information that had been nudging at the back of Brynn’s mind spoke up again, insisting she pay closer attention. She wasn’t certain how, though, because the information remained stubbornly just out of reach of her conscious thoughts.
No good reason. They attack for no good reason.
The hostiles had a reason. Stonehill got their attention. Potomac got them a shot at Knight.
Not the hostiles, foolish girl. Vampires.
So far, the vampires hadn’t been involved in the mass slaughter against the loup garou. Few vampires still existed and those who did kept to themselves, living in small covens around the country. Their numbers had been nearly wiped out over sixty years ago, during a series of bloody fights between the covens and the Midwest runs. According to the few documents she’d read and rumors she’d heard, the vampires had begun violently attacking loup garou for no good reason, which caused the loup to retaliate.
No good reason. Only they did have a good reason, and you know it.
Brynn recalled a single moment, many years ago. She had been five, almost six years old, and her father had just taken a seat as Prime Magus in the Congress. Compelled by a child’s curiosity to know exactly what that meant and how much more of her father’s attention she’d lose, she had sneaked out of her bedroom while her father entertained the other three Prime Maguses. They were talking about the loup garou who were, at the time, a mythical concept to her, like the bogeyman.
“Only a Prime Magus is privy to this information, Archimedes. No one can be told.”
“I understand, Stafford.”
“Make certain that you do. After all, the loup garou believe the vampires incited the hostilities that led to that war. They can never learn the truth. The loup garou outnumber us five to one, and their reaction would be disastrous for the Magi.”
“You have my promise.”
“One day the loup garou will be done away with completely. We must simply be patient and allow nature to take its due course. Why dirty our own hands when we can trick them into destroying themselves?”
Brynn hadn’t understood a word of it. She’d forgotten it until now, buried under a lifetime of disappointment and futile attempts to prove herself worthy of her father’s affection. A father who’d known a terrible truth all along. A father who might be involved now.
Her stomach churned, and she swallowed hard against the urge to vomit. She also realized she’d missed a large part of the continuing conversation.
Two large sheets of paper had been spread out on the coffee table, each containing pencil sketches of different faces. She recognized one as the vampire-loup she’d encountered briefly at the trailer. Victoria. The other sketch could have been of any young female Magus, including herself—straight black hair, thin nose, sharp cheekbones.
“These are the best he could do with your descriptions,” McQueen was saying. Brynn had completely missed who drew the sketches, and she was not going to draw attention to herself by asking.
“They’re pretty damn accurate,” Knight said. “Too bad they move so fast that they’d be on you before you could identify them.”
“Every new piece of information helps, and now the other runs will know who to keep an eye out for. They’ve already been scanned and emailed to the other Alphas. As for tonight, we’re going to increase night patrols in the mountains. They seem to like to attack at dusk and dawn, and the sun will set in a few hours.”
“They know we’re expecting them and are prepared to act,” Bishop said.
“You’re right, and the odds are good the hostiles won’t attack us directly. There is no element of surprise, and we have twice the population of Stonehill. Any attack on the town would be futile.”
“Not completely futile,” Knight said. “It would scare the hell out of people, and a lot of scared loup in one place is a recipe for emotional overload and forced shifts. People are already nervous and it’s taking its toll on tempers.”
“Point taken. All we can do is maintain due diligence and respond to any more fights swiftly and decisively.”
The meeting broke up. The mouthwatering aromas of simmering meat and spices wafted into the library once the door opened, reminding Brynn that it was suppertime. She couldn’t muster enthusiasm for food, though, even when Rook escorted her into the dining room, where she ate with a large group for the first time since coming to Cornerstone. No one gave her a cross look, because she was here under the Alpha’s protection. She sat with confidence because of her own loup blood.
Rook tried to engage her in conversation during supper. She hated disappointing his efforts, but her mind was consumed by the memory of that conversation, filtered over time and through a child’s perspective. She needed to tell Rook and his father what she knew, and yet she couldn’t make herself speak. She needed proof before she accused her own father and the Congress of the crimes she suspected them of committing against the vampires and the loup.
She had to go home.
Rook found himself in the unusual position of actually wanting to talk—to Brynn, to Knight, to Bishop and Father. He had a head full of questions and no idea how to start a single conversation with any of them. For the last few days, Brynn had been the easiest person for him to open up to about the most random things. Now, as early evening turned late and the sun began to set, his words dried up and nothing sounded right.
After supper, she’d slipped out to the back patio and curled up on the lounge chair, angled away from the house. It was a pretty obvious “don’t talk to me” position, so he’d left her alone. Only he was too damned antsy to sit. He spent a good twenty minutes pacing around the conservatory and its rose-scented humidity. Rows of potted flowers swung in the breeze created by his rapid movements. He had a good sweat going, too, when he decided to hell with her body language.
A few early lightning bugs danced around the farthest corner of the yard, near the shed where he’d shifted. He still couldn’t erase the memory of her expression when she’d first seen him. The awe and respect in her eyes, and the total lack of fear. Now, twisted up on that lounge, she seemed withdrawn and troubled. His beast reared up, determined to fight whatever was hurting her.
“Brynn?” He sat on the end of the lounge, as far as he could be from her toes without actually falling off.
She took her time turning her head to look at him. Her blue eyes swam with silent misery that hurt his heart to see. “I have to go,” she said.
He blinked, stupefied by the comment. “To . . . the bathroom?”
“No. Go, Rook. Home.”
“What?” Blood roared in his ears. This had to be a joke. “Why?”
She worried her lower lip with her teeth before answering. “I can’t explain right now, but I have to go. I need to speak with my father in person.”
“About what?”
“Everything. About me having loup blood, and about Fiona and her sisters. I truly believe he knows more than he’s saying, and I need to prove it.”
He wanted to grab on to her, hold tight, and keep her from setting a single foot outside of Cornerstone. He couldn’t protect her if she left. “How can you prove it?”
“Because I know him, Rook. Telephones can only give you a person’s voice, but you can tell a lot about someone from his face. I must speak with him in person.”
“What if he is involved? Then what?”
She slid down the lounge and swung her feet over the edge so they sat side by side. She grabbed his hands and squeezed them hard. “Then I come back and tell you so. Either way, I will come back. You have my word.”
Her promise to return released only a fraction of the anxiety crushing down on his shoulders. “What if he is involved, though? What if he stops you from returning to me? Do you think he would hurt you to protect the Congress?”
“I want to believe not. I’m still his child, but the duty of every Magus is to the longevity of the Congress and our magic.” She pulled a face. “And they have a lot of secrets that need protecting.”
“Such as the creation of vampire-loup hybrids?”
“Possibly. I cannot and will not accuse them of anything without proof.”