Chapter 23
(Days left to full moon: 1)
I spent most of the night following and the next day trying desperately to avoid Chaz. Every time I turned around, there he was.
Nikki seemed to delight in my discomfort. She followed me around, too, though at a more discreet distance, watching how I jumped and swore and flinched every time I ran into him. Every time I caught her watching, her crystalline irises were sparkling with pleasure and malice. If I hadn’t respected her brother so much, and hadn’t still been in so much pain, I might have called her on it.
As it was, there wasn’t a chance I was about to come to blows with her over something so stupid.
It wasn’t like Chaz or I had much choice in the matter, either. The apartment just wasn’t that big. Everyone was feeling a bit cooped up and restless, particularly the Weres. Tomorrow was the first day the moon would wax full enough to start the werewolves’ cycle of forced shifts that came three days out of every month. Every one of them would have to change into their half-man, half-wolf form.
The suppressed energy of a half dozen Weres close to their change combined with the fear of the White Hats was a recipe for disaster in the making. Frankly, it seemed a miracle no one had tried to shoot or beat the crap out of anyone yet.
The White Hats really didn’t like the proximity of the Weres. Though they’d never bothered before, now every one of them, except for Jack, was armed at all times. The White Hats stayed grouped by Jack’s cot, standing as an unnecessary honor guard. Avoiding crossing paths with anyone who wasn’t human enough for their tastes, including me.
As for the Weres, they prowled around, exploring every inch of the apartment until the whole damned place smelled like a kennel. They didn’t make any overtly threatening moves toward the White Hats, but I think that was mostly because Chaz beat the snot out of Simon when he started getting too confrontational with Bo.
Their behavior made me wonder—in truth, a bit snidely—whether some of the males might not start marking their territory if the pressure contained in this place didn’t let up soon.
What really surprised me was that
nobody
made any effort to come near me. Jack spent a lot of time studying maps and stuff on the computers with Keith. Chaz studiously avoided me, save for when our paths crossing was unavoidable. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to try changing my clothes or showering again since last night. Even Bo didn’t come by to wish me well or see how I was doing.
Nikki brought me food at mealtimes, but she didn’t stick around, and no one came to visit me while I lounged on the couch.
I got up now and then to stretch, walking despite how much it hurt to get up and move around. With every hour, the pain became less. However, I’d noticed a low-grade fever. Yet another sign of the impending change. My appetite roared to life within hours of Chaz’s dressing me last night, and hadn’t abated since, no matter how much I ate. Even with the fever and the queasy reaction my stomach was having at the smell of the Sunstrikers, I was always hungry. Oddly, I craved sweets and carbohydrates instead of meat, as I had that morning I’d woken up from my bender at the other hideout a few weeks ago.
Chaz was in the kitchen sipping at a cup of water when I went to scrounge in the fridge. I ignored him as much as I had every other time I’d come across him in the house. With a few savage moves, shifting things around, I found a tub of cream cheese and set it on the counter, digging around in the cabinets for some crackers or bagels to spread it on.
He watched the whole time, his butt propped against the counter, and a calculating gleam in his eye. I knew the look. He was planning something that involved me. Not that I cared overmuch. His thoughts had always been fairly transparent and straightforward—other than the lies, that was. And I wasn’t interested in playing his games anymore.
He set the glass aside as I found a box of Ritz crackers and grabbed the cream cheese, intending to hightail it back to my couch.
“Shia?”
I stopped, not looking at him.
“There’s a place for you in our pack. Whether you turn or not. You have a place to go.”
That sounded way too much like Royce for my peace of mind. With a snarl, I rushed out of there, not wanting to face him or have to consider that too closely.
Simon was sitting on the couch when I finally reached the top of Mount Stairwell. I nearly wept. Exhausted from the effort it had taken to get back up the stairs by myself without collapsing or toppling backwards, all I’d wanted was to sprawl on what passed for my bed.
He’d settled right in the middle, his arms over the back, and gave me a smirk when I came to a swaying halt in front of him.
“You mind?”
He arched his brows, giving me a faux-innocent look. “Not at all. Why?”
Simon always had been an asshole. His dark, slanted eyes watched me with a mischievous glitter; he knew he was being a dick and that there was nothing I could do about it.
It was a very Were thing to do. He was challenging me.
Dredging up the nerve from somewhere deep down, I dropped the containers on either side of him and circled behind the couch. He turned his head to follow my movements. Though my gait was unsteady, I didn’t falter.
I braced my hands on the back of the couch, on either side of his narrow shoulders. He started to twist around, his expression suddenly shifting from cocksure to wary, regarding me with suspicion. This was really going to hurt.
I bent at the waist and pecked a kiss on his cheek.
With an explosive growl, he practically leapt to the ceiling, vacating the couch and plastering himself against the opposite wall. His hair, a lovely sable color, had been combed flat moments ago, but was now standing on end, and his eyes were a bright amber color similar to my own.
I grinned, maintaining the pose, though it was making my eyes water. “Thanks. Appreciate your keeping the couch warm for me.”
He loosed another thunderous growl and stalked off, highly offended.
With a groan and a crack, I straightened my back, pressing the small of it with the heels of both palms. Though I couldn’t maintain the position for long, I couldn’t have done that at all last night. Whatever was going on in my body was healing me much faster than was normal.
Tired and sore, I moved around to sink into the cushions, no longer interested in the food.
The doubts about whether I’d be turning Were were almost nil at this point. There was no other explanation for the healing, the heightened senses, the way my stomach had been rebelling, or the fever. I’d been putting off deciding how I’d deal with the moment when it came. All month, I’d been doing my best to deny it. Now that the time was at hand, and I was no longer distracted by my need to hunt Chaz to the ends of the earth, there was plenty of time to consider my options and make a decision.
Yet it was the last thing I wanted to do.
My nose felt sore. I rubbed at it absently, then glanced at my hand. It came away streaked with red. Another nosebleed.
“Need a tissue?”
Jack was at the top of the stairs, watching me with those flat, dead eyes.
“Sure, if you’ve got one on you.”
He wandered closer to sit on the end of the couch by my feet, leaning over to hand me a cloth handkerchief from his back pocket. I pressed the dark blue fabric to my nose, closing my eyes as I tilted my head back.
Jack and I sat together in relatively companionable silence for a while. I’m sure he had better things to do, but maybe the reason he came to sit with me was because he knew no one would bother him while he was here.
Usually I was the one who got nervous and broke the quiet. He surprised me by speaking first.
“Tomorrow’s the day.”
Like he needed to tell me that.
“We’ll be facing down the Ravenwoods. It’s probably better if you don’t know where.”
Yes. God forbid I should turn and decide to follow the scent of the hunters for my first meal as a mindless beast.
“The cage I told you about. It’s in the lowest basement of this building. I’ll take you down there before we go. Lock you in.”
That sent a chill through me. What kind of building needed more than one basement? What did they do in the other ones? “Should I bring anything with me?”
He shrugged, patting my leg lightly. It was an awkward move, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to be comforting and it was the best he could come up with. “A book, maybe. You’ll be down there a while. The lock is silver, so if you turn, you won’t be able to open it or touch the bars. If you don’t turn, you can come out after moonrise and wait for us here. Doc Morrow will be by. He’ll probably need some extra hands to deal with the injuries after the battle.”
It seemed a bit naive of him to think after all the signs I was showing that I wouldn’t turn. I appreciated the thought, even if I had no faith that I was still human. Too many signs pointed otherwise. I’d had my skin broken multiple times by shifted Weres. If Dillon’s scratch hadn’t infected me, no doubt one of the others had. Even Chaz thought I smelled like an Other—though the mentions of the scent of vampire clinging to me did make me wonder if maybe there was something about this process I was missing.
Maybe my agitation over these thoughts was making things worse. The blood trickling out of my nose suddenly became a steady flow. Cursing, I sat up, balling up the handkerchief and pinching the bridge of my nose.
Jack’s brows knitted as he watched me attempt to stem the tide. “Are you all right?”
My nose was clogged up, making it difficult to speak. “Yeah. It doesn’t hurt.”
He gave my leg another awkward pat, then leaned back into one of the cushions with one arm propping himself up, making himself comfortable. I had the feeling he was going to hide up here with me as long as he could.
Right at that moment, I didn’t mind the company.
“So,” he said, with deceptive casualness, “what will you do if you turn?”
Of course he had to ask the same question I’d been beating my head against the wall about.
“I don’t know. It scares me, Jack.”
“I know how you feel.”
My brows lifted, and I gave him a sardonic look that went right over his head. Though I understood why before long. He spoke very quietly, almost in a whisper.
“The last time I talked to Royce, he said I can’t wait more than a month to decide if I want to let him turn me. My body is becoming too weak.”
My eyes widened, and I sat up straighter.
“If I wait much longer, even with so much of his blood in me, I wouldn’t survive the transition.”
“What did you tell him?” I asked.
“The same thing I’ve been telling him. I’m not ready to decide yet. I will. Soon.”
There was a question I was on the verge of asking, but it didn’t seem appropriate. Biting my lower lip—then making a face as I tasted my own blood—I reached out to place a hand over his. He looked at where my fingers rested over his, then back to my face, meeting my eyes. The raw fear there was undisguised in that moment, and I knew that no matter how hard his outer shell, inside he was just as frightened and human as I was.
It gave me the courage to ask.
“Jack, is that why you’ve been so easy on me? Has thinking about becoming one of them changed how you look at Others?”
He jerked, pulling his hand out from under mine. The look he gave me was positively venomous, all of the anger and frustration coming across as crystal clear as if he had chosen to shout his response.
Without a word, he got up, leaving me there on the couch wondering if I’d just ruined any chance of ever calling Jack my friend.
Chapter 24
(Days left to full moon: 0)
“You’re sure you want to stay behind? You don’t want someone to stay with you?”
I ignored the pain that shot up my legs and spine as I paced, not looking at Jack as he hovered in the doorway of the cell lined with silver bars. “I’m sure. You need your people for the fight more than I need someone to stick around to hold my hand. Have fun hunting the Ravenwoods.”
He gave me a look that I had no trouble returning. He was still pissed at me for asking him about his thoughts on Others. Chaz, Bo, and Nikki waited by the stairwell, watching, but not interfering as Jack flipped the latches on the outside of my cell.
It was pretty bare down here. The ceiling was set intermittently with shaded bulbs. There was no furniture except for a couple of folding chairs against a wall and a shelf with a digital clock so I had some way of measuring the time. It was early yet, not quite 3
PM.
Dominating the center of the room, four stories below ground, was a large cage made of thick, silver bars. It put me in mind of Hannibal Lecter’s jail cell toward the end of that movie,
The Silence of the Lambs
, except that this one had an enclosed top. The entire cage was made of silver so a Were couldn’t claw its way out. The thing must have cost a fortune to make—but it would hold a Were captive more effectively than anything else I’d ever seen.
This far underground, no one would hear a werewolf howling for release.
There was something altogether chilling about knowing that this was here, and that the White Hats had probably used it before.
Actually, after getting a whiff of the place, never mind probably—had
definitely
used it before. Cripes.1
Bo and Chaz lingered after Jack walked away, Nikki hot on his heels. Both of the men obviously wanted to say something to me without the other around. Rolling my eyes at their distrustful posturing, I settled into the chair Jack had left me and went through the small bag I’d packed with sweets and a few other necessities, withdrawing a paperback and a candy bar as I settled in to wait.
The hunter came to me first. He crouched, one hand clutching a silver bar for balance. “Shia ... Shia, if you change—no matter what happens— I’m still your friend. I just wanted you to know that. I’d stay here with you if you’d let me.”
I glanced over the top of my book, giving him a wan smile. “Thank you—but no. The other hunters need you tonight. Don’t worry about it, Bo. I never doubted you.”
He grimaced. “Yeah, but I have been avoiding you these last couple days. Since the fight at the house. I’m sorry.”
With a sigh, I put the book and sweet down in my lap, facing him squarely. “Bo?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re still my friend. You always have been. Don’t think for a second that I blame you for anything. This has been a rough month. We’ll give movie night a try when all this business is behind us.”
He knew as well as I did that those were probably empty words. There was almost as much of a chance he would be killed while fighting the Ravenwoods tonight as there was for me to shift into a werewolf. The smile he gave me was a shadow of his usual, cheerful grin. “Yeah. When this is all behind us.”
With a heavy sigh, he turned and trudged to the stairs. Chaz waited there in the shadows for a time, only his eyes glimmering unnaturally in the dark. He didn’t approach until I went back to my book. It didn’t take him very long, which I was glad for since I was getting sick and tired of waiting for him to man up and talk to me. Not that I was particularly interested in anything he might have to say, but I doubted he was going to leave without giving me one last mental hurdle to deal with.
“If you change, you will be a Sunstriker, Shiarra. I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’ll be the pack’s responsibility. My responsibility, thanks to Dillon.”
I set the open book and candy on my knee, then pressed the tips of my fingers to the bridge of my nose. There was another bleed coming. I could feel the pressure of it building in my sinuses, bordering on painful this time.
“Nice of you to offer, but the Moonwalkers have already pledged to show me the ropes and teach me how to make it on my own.” That promise had been made before I went on the warpath. I only hoped that it was still true considering how my little escapades in Central Park must have pissed off the pack. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
A rumble sounded in his throat, and he bared his teeth. Upper and lower fangs were peeking out. Uh-oh. That wasn’t a good sign.
“You belong to me. Not Rohrik.”
Oh, now the claws came out. I tossed the paperback aside and stared at him, knowing full well what that meant to a werewolf. He held my gaze with a snarl, his eyes glowing with a fierce inner light.
“You,” I said softly, my calm reply getting under his skin better than any shouting or screams ever would, “lost any chance of having me in your pack when you lied and cheated on me. You made your choice. Live with it.”
He came closer, one hand closing around a silver bar. Even from where I sat, I could see the redness of his skin, the blisters and boils forming at the contact. Smoke drifted up from his fingers, and the smell of burning meat soon filled the enclosed space, mixing with the heady scent of musk. What the hell was he doing?
“You can’t deny your bloodline. When I call, you’ll come.”
He stayed that way a few seconds longer, holding my gaze, maybe proving something to himself by holding onto that bar despite the pain that it must have caused him. That he still felt this strongly about me was more worrisome than flattering. Combined with his words, it was more terrifying than impressive.
He turned and melted away into the shadows, disappearing up the stairs and leaving me to my thoughts.
The idea that he might have some hold on me as the pack leader of the Were who had infected me was more disturbing than anything else I’d dealt with these last few days, even taking into account when he’d had to help me dress.
Did that mean my choices were even more limited than I had previously suspected? If he wanted me to come to his side, would I be forced to go by some instinct? Driven by need rather than conscious choice?
Werewolves were pack creatures by nature. There were some who roamed alone. Few and far between, Chaz had once explained that the loners were often hunted by the packs so they could be assimilated or driven away, forced into the fringes of society. The lone wolves could not live in cities, as they were too likely to give in to their baser nature and hurt someone if they didn’t have a wild, untamed land to roam and hunt.
Was that what would happen to me? Would I be driven away? Or forced to be by his side, unable to make my own choice in the matter, and hunt beside people I’d much rather
be
hunting?
God, he was a bastard to leave me like this.
I got up from the chair, pacing, absently gnawing on the chocolate bar, hardly even noticing that my nose was gushing again. There was warmth on my face, trickling over my lips and onto the candy wrapper, but it wasn’t important.
I looked at the clock. 3:04
PM.
This couldn’t be. Hours to go, and I was nowhere near ready to know. I couldn’t turn. Not without having some answers first.
What if Chaz commanded me to come to his side like Max Carlyle once had? Would he be able to control me the way the vampires once did?
I should have spent more time this month educating myself. I didn’t know nearly as much as I needed to about Weres. All that time spent on the OtherNet, and I couldn’t even bring myself to look up the basics. Other than the symptoms of infection and a pending change, none of it had held my interest. Nothing about packs or the pack dynamic. What powers the alpha held over the lesser wolves who answered to him. I’d assumed I’d learn all those things from Rohrik Donovan and the Moonwalkers.
On the verge of panic, I tossed the now empty wrapper aside and reached for the closest lock, needing to get out of here and put as much distance between myself and the Sunstrikers as possible before moonrise.
My fingers tingled when I touched the silver. Real or imagined? Whichever it was, I couldn’t stand it, withdrawing and resuming pacing.
It didn’t matter anyway. Better sense, now rearing its ugly head, dictated that I couldn’t go. If I left, and I did change, I might hurt someone. At least in here, I wouldn’t do any irreparable damage to anyone but myself.
Also, distance might not matter when it came to the hold the pack leader had on his wolves.
Fuck me
sideways
. Why did it always occur to me too late what questions I should have asked?
I looked at the clock again. 3:10
PM
. For the love of all that was holy, I’d almost swear time was going backwards, it was so slow. The wait, the not knowing, the anticipation of the pain of the change was killing me.
The bag. The belt was in my bag. I dived for it, forgetting the pain of my injuries and impending change, not even noticing it anymore. The front of my shirt was becoming soaked with blood that was... strange. Streaked with both black and clear mucus, all threaded through the normal red stuff. Nothing I’d read about online said anything about that.
Disgusting, whatever it was. The fever was creeping back on me, too. A chill traced along my spine as I closed my hand on the belt.
There was no response. Oh, God.
Then I remembered. Daylight. No wonder it was inert. The spirit was dormant until the sun went down. I thrust it back in the bag with a curse. Good God, I was far too shaky to think straight. Light-headed from blood loss or something. Nothing was coming together right. My thoughts were too scattered, too much fear racing through me to make sense of anything.
I hugged the leather to my chest and sat down on the ground, rocking back and forth on cold cement while I watched the clock. 3:12
PM.
Who was I kidding? I was a fucking wreck. It was pointless to try to focus on anything other than the clock while I was like this. To do anything to pass the time other than cling to the remaining shreds of my sanity and pray.
It had been a while since I’d done that. Somehow I doubted I had been one of God’s favorite people, considering how I lived my life and the mistakes I’d made. My vision blurred with tears as I bowed my head over the belt, clutching it close, and mouthed the words while blood spilled over my lips and dripped on the floor.
There are some things best kept private. What was said between God and me is one of them.
By the end of it, I felt a little better. Calmer. Maybe He was on my side, maybe He wasn’t, but it made me feel better to know I’d made my peace. No matter which road I walked, I was damned—but at least I felt like I had made an effort to repent.
Royce. Damn him. Had he known this would happen to me? Was that why he’d suggested making me a vampire, way back when, before I’d run from him? He was so fond of hiding things from me “for my own good” and playing things close to the chest. From our meeting by the park, I was positive he knew more than what he’d been saying.
If he’d bothered to take a few minutes to tell me what was happening, maybe I wouldn’t have made so many mistakes. That, too, was another thing to blame the vampire for. Even so, I would have found it preferable to be under his thumb than Chaz’s.
No matter what happened tonight, I was going to find Sara and set her free. She was only in this mess because of me. My penance would be to see to her safety, taking her out of the world of monsters—away from me.
That hurt. Knowing I’d probably never see her again after this. More than knowing what a monster I’d become, whether or not I changed, and all the death and misery I’d caused. She was more than my business partner—she was my best friend. The only person who had continued to believe in me, even after my life had gone to shit.
And where had it gotten her? Hiding in the shadow of a vampire. Because of me. If not for my mistakes, she would be safe and sound at home with her dogs, going out on dates with her boyfriend, Arnold the mage. Our business wouldn’t have gone under—without the two of us there to pay bills and field clients, no doubt we were too deep in the hole to ever dig H&W Investigations back out again. Her life wouldn’t have been ruined.
She might have been happy if she hadn’t had me riding along her coattails for so long. She and her relatives were rich. Far richer than mine. Yeah, she always said she liked to hang with my family, but I knew some part of her pitied us for how much poorer we were.
Well, no more. I would use the change to advantage. That boundless strength could be directed. I might be a monster, but I wouldn’t be mindless.
After tonight, Sara would be free of Royce—and free of me.