Broken Blood (30 page)

Around us, the argument stalled.

“Why do you look like you’re holding a pair of Aces?” Cambria asked.

“Because I am,” I said, trying to contain my excitement until I knew everyone was on board. “We all are. I have an idea, but it’s dangerous.”

“When is it not?” Cord muttered.

I looked at her sharply but let it go. For now.

Instead, I told them my plan. “I think we’re looking at it backward by pursuing the cure angle,” I said. “The packs, the allies, even the Hunters and what’s left out there of the hybrids—there’s only one way to prove to them Steppe lied. That I’m not out for destruction. I have to embrace both sides and, more than that, I need to embrace anyone else straddling both sides.”

“Are you trying to tell Wes you want to see other people?” Cambria joked. “I mean, isn’t one Dirty Blood enough for you?”

“Funny,” I said. “No. I’m saying instead of curing people we should turn them. Willing people, of course. And we should do it in full view of Hunters, hybrids, and Werewolves everywhere. Maybe we do our own live stream.”

“You want to infect people?” George asked, skepticism lacing his words.

“I want to allow people a choice. A true choice. Not like Steppe’s ‘be a Hunter or die’ ultimatum but a real option. No judgment.”

“God, Tay,” Cambria said.

“What you’re proposing is pretty crazy,” George said. I could only nod in silent understanding. He knew better than anyone what a change like that could do. But I’d already thought it over. This was the only way to get their attention. To repair the damage Steppe had done.

“And when the change doesn’t take? When they can’t battle the darkness alone?” Logan asked quietly. “What then? Another blood bond? You and the whole world in each other’s head?”

“Astor and I have talked about it,” I said. “He would use a small amount of my DNA structure in order to solidify the change and help make it easier for them. And he would give me an injection of someone else’s blood immediately after, redirecting any bond that might form.”

“Whose blood will he inject you with?” Wes asked, concern already knitting his forehead into tight lines.

I reached up and smoothed them away and managed a timid smile. “Yours,” I said.

He hesitated. “Are you sure?” he asked, leaning in.

“I’m sure.”

The collective pause felt like a defining moment—and I was thrown back into a memory of another gathering, another planning session that felt so much like this one it made my heart hurt. We’d stood in Astor’s living room in Nevada and I’d finally glimpsed what it felt like to be a leader. The love and loyalty and commitment were beautiful—then and now. A tear slid down my cheek and Wes wiped it away.

Derek cleared his throat pointedly and my lips curved in a rueful smile.

“With Steppe and Lexington dead and no CHAS leadership in place, this is a long shot,” Derek said.

“I know. For this to work, we need leadership. Someone to step up.” I looked at Cord. There was something knowing in her eyes as she stared back. “We need you, Cord. We can’t do this without you,” I said.

“You’ve never been able to do it without me,” she pointed out and I realized she was right. For better or worse, she’d always been there when I needed her. Albeit, grouchy and unwilling, but still.

“You wouldn’t be doing it alone,” I said and the fragility in her expression said she knew exactly what I was talking about. “We’d do it together.”

The pause felt like a lifetime before she finally said, “I’m in. But I’m not taking his last name.”

“She’s in for what?” Benny called from the front, but we ignored him. I hadn’t doubted for a second that his silence equated to eavesdropping. Benny had a particular talent for finding things out. Or lurking. Or both. But, rescuer or not, now was not the time to bring him up to speed.

“What is your last name, anyway?” George asked Cord.

“Probably Diablo,” Cambria muttered and Cord glared at her. “What? I went with something exotic. It’s a compliment.”

“It’s Hunter, of course,” Cord said. “I paid good money for that name. And I’m keeping it.”

“Hold your horses,” Logan said, holding up his hand. “How is Cord taking over going to help us?”

“Because she’s Steppe’s daughter, sweetie,” Victoria said and there was a hint of bitchy impatience there that almost made me smile. “Keep up.”

“I know that. But Steppe wrote Lexington’s name in The Draven before he ... you know.”

“No, he didn’t actually,” Wes said. “Look.”

He held up his phone and everyone leaned in close. “Is that—?” Derek began.

There was a beat of silence and then exhales.

“My name,” Cord said flatly.

“Edie says she’s delivering it to Alex now,” Wes said.

“He was legitimately crazy,” Cambria said. “He actually wrote her name even though he said Lexington.”

“I told you he was a bastard,” Cord said.

“But that means she can actually do this. CHAS will have to recognize it,” Cambria said.

I nodded. “Exactly. We need that inquiry board to examine it and deem it authentic and then Cord can be officially selected.”

“How long will it take?” Derek asked.

“A couple of days,” Wes guessed.

“We need to buy time,” Logan said. He cast a worried glance to Victoria, but she already looked better than before. Color had returned to her cheeks and I knew having a plan of action was helping.

“Derek, call Jack and Fee. Ask them to send word we’re having an official service for Mr. Lexington and everyone can tune in,” I said.

“I’ll set it up,” he said.

“Logan, can you and Astor get us a list of everything you’ll need to perform the change?”

“Sure, but...” Logan hesitated and his glance slid to Mr. Lexington’s furry form. “Who’s willing to be changed?”

Everyone halted, phones halfway out, and looked back and forth at each other. This was the part I hadn’t exactly worked out beforehand. Because I couldn’t. Whoever volunteered, it would have to be one hundred percent their choice. And it’s not like Wes or I could do it.

“I’ll mention it to Jack and Fee, put the word out we’re asking for someone to step up,” Derek said.

“Make it clear it’s a volunteer-only situation. We can’t look like we’re forcing anyone,” Wes said.

“Got it, man.” He slid out of the seat and paced up the aisle, hitting buttons on his phone.

“Victoria and I can do the same with some of our contacts from school,” Logan said half-heartedly.

“That’s a long shot,” I said. “Wood Point isn’t exactly open to the idea of Dirty Bloods.” Victoria’s face fell and I knew she was remembering everything she’d put me through when I’d first arrived.

I reached out and laid my hand over hers where it rested on the seat. “Vic, I didn’t mean—”

“I’ll do it.”

My words fell away, as did the phone against Derek’s ear, and every other activity, including Benny’s navigation. The bus pulled to a stop in the middle of the back road we’d just turned on.

“Cambria?”

Cambria’s mother shuffled her seat belt off and stood at the far end of the bus, staring uncertainly at her daughter. But Cambria didn’t turn. Her only reaction was the tightening at the edges of her mouth as she stared at me.

“Cam?” I asked softly.

“I’ll do it,” she repeated, her chin high and her back stiff as she faced me. “I’ll take the injection. I’ll become half-Werewolf.”

“Cam, are you sure?” I asked. “This is huge. There’s no going back. We can find someone else—”

“But I won’t.” She looked at Derek. “Is it okay?”

“Is it what you want?” he asked her.

“I want you,” she said.

“You have me even without this,” he told her.

“Well, I want it anyway.” She looked at me, still ignoring her mother, who had wandered much closer and was silently taking it all in with nervously twisting fingers. “Shoot me up, Scotty.”

I laughed. “You mean beam me up.”

“Whatever.” She shrugged. “Make me a wolf.”

I started to ask her one more time if she was sure, but Derek grabbed her and kissed her. And everyone clapped and cheered.

Wes took my hand and squeezed. “She looks sure to me,” he whispered.

And I knew, as I watched Cambria and Derek, that he was right. She was sure. They both were. In that moment, we all were. Sure of each other, sure of our future, our commitment to overcoming the conflicts of two races pitted against one another. And I knew, looking around at them all, I’d do whatever necessary to make this plan work.

T
he drippings of the dream were like ice cream on a hot day. One image melted into another faster than I could keep up. My empty brain, devoid of voices and interruption, felt like a circus tent at show time. I couldn’t control it much less make sense of anything I saw. Vaguely, I knew I was asleep—that I could stop this anytime—but the images were torturously specific. No fog or smokescreen obscuring.

I blinked into the crystal-clear image of the cabin. The one Astor and Grandma had somehow spelled to include a wall that made the whole thing invisible and impenetrable to both Werewolves and Hunters. I’d stayed there up until I’d been taken by Steppe. It had been the only place I’d felt truly safe in ... as long as I could remember.

But now, it was dark and the air felt heavy, like a weight pressing down around the group assembled. Wes, Logan, George, Derek—all of my friends stood in a gathering in the yard, every pair of eyes aimed into the woods beyond the front steps. Breathing was shallow, hands were fisted, shoulders rigid. I watched them—us, a spectator in my own dreaming, trying to understand.

My eyes tracked the line of theirs and, finally, a blurred outline took shape. A girl, lying face down on the ground at their feet. She was convulsing and sobbing, her nails digging into her own skin as she hugged her arms to her chest, clearly in agony.

I reached out a tentative hand and yanked it back again when her convulsion suddenly sent her flailing. Her scream rent the air and, from within the shadows of the trees, wolves howled. Lots of them.

I didn’t need to understand their particular pack’s call to battle to understand that’s what would come next. I leaned into the girl again as she bucked and finally rolled to face me.

I gasped, stumbled backward on all fours—and came abruptly awake.

“No!” I said aloud.

Wes caught me, bracing my shoulders with steady hands. “It’s just a dream,” he said, but it wasn’t just a dream. It was more than that. I just couldn’t figure out how much more. Over the sound of his soothing words, his phone rang. “Answer it,” I said, struggling to catch my breath.

“You sure?” he asked.

“It could be important.”

“Hello?” he said. There was a pause as he listened and inserted a few uh-huhs before he handed the phone to me. “It’s your mom.”

I took the phone and smoothed my shirt and hair, willing my breath to return to normal. My heart still pounded, but I was not about to give in to the fear and doubts the dream had left me with. At least not while my mom was on the line.

“Mom,” I said, aiming for normal—considering the abnormality of my life in general.

“Tara, don’t be scared,” she said.

“Mom?” I held the phone away from my face to double check I wasn’t on video chat or something. “What are you talking about?”

“The visions, Tara. I know about them. I was ... Apparently, we were on the same frequency or something for that one.”

“Are you talking about my nightmare?” I asked, thoroughly confused. “It was just a bad dream.”

“No, it’s not,” she said gently. “It was a vision, Tara. And judging by your lack of surprise, I suspect this wasn’t the first one you’ve had.”

“I’ve had ... a few,” I said warily. “How do you know? And why are you calling them visions?”

“Because I have them too,” she said. “They’re in your blood. Remember Vera?”

I couldn’t find my voice. Of course I remembered Vera. Her visions were what had sparked this entire business of my leading some group or another or choosing between some alliance or another. It had led to Steppe’s interest in me. Leo’s attempted murder of my whole family, starting with my dad all those years ago. Miles. Olivia. Those damn visions were responsible for everything.

“Tara?” my mother prompted.

“Of course I remember Vera,” I snapped, my temper flaring at what she was proposing. And why had she waited so long? “When were you planning on telling me her gift fell on our side of the family tree?”

“Don’t be angry. God, don’t be—you have no idea everything I’ve done for these stupid visions.” Her own anger eclipsed mine and made me think twice about whatever accusation I was about to throw. 

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I saw what Vera saw,” she said. “Long before you ever appeared to her, I saw it. The pack, The Cause, the choice you’d have to make for us all to survive. It terrified me, so I ran away with you. Hid you. From this world and from the visions ever manifesting into truth. Obviously, that worked out well for me,” she said wryly.

I shook my head, trying to make sense out of what I’d known five minutes ago and what she was saying now. “But I thought you ran because of Leo. To keep us safe.”

“That was part of it. This was the rest. Visions are liquid, Tara. The future isn’t concrete because people are constantly making choices that change the big picture. Which is why I didn’t see, I guess...”

“See what?”

“That by hiding you, I was delivering you to the exact place you would need to be in order to fulfill what I’d tried to prevent. And now, here we are.”

“But why am I only now seeing these visions?” I asked, frustration replacing my confusion in streaks of hot temper.

“Your father’s cocktail prevented it for most of your life, along with your ability to shift. After that ... I think the Unbinilium was suppressing it before now.”

“But I’ve been able to shift for months before these visions started.”

“Tara, you have a fair amount of Unbinilium in you. How do you think you were made to be immune in the first place?”

I had no idea what to say to that. Frankly, I’d never delved too deeply into the mechanics of my immunity. I looked over and found Astor watching me from three seats away with a knowing look. He probably would’ve told me if I’d asked. But, of course, I hadn’t. Instead, I’d been riding the superhero high and becoming more and more reckless with danger.