The More Things Change

by Emily Holloway

  Jackie rubs a hand over the back of her head. "Uh, yeah, I guess it could be put that way."

  "Then she's not going to be satisfied with one supply run," Solomon says. "And she won't think like you. She won't be content sneaking around in the shadows. She's going to tell her parents and try to make the Donovan family into what she wants it to be. Now, how will that play out in the long run? I don't know. But it's going to wreak havoc on the way you've been doing things."

  "One thing at a time," Jackie says with a sigh. But she has to admit that Solomon has a point. That sounds exactly like what Valerie will do. She can be headstrong, and her ignorance is frustrating, but she has a genuinely good heart. She'll want to help, and she won't want to believe that Mitchell and Leo are well aware of the situation. She won't want to believe that Mitchell is far happier with the townspeople cringing, starving, subjugated.

  If she tries to convince them, they'll want to know where she got the idea. And if she tells them that Jackie steals supplies, it won't take long for them to connect the dots between the missing supplies and the failed raids. She files that away as a bridge to cross once she gets to it.

  "Where are the Callaghans at these days?" she asks, shouldering her now mostly empty bag. She's got a few things for them tucked away in there, but most of what she had brought on this trip was for Solomon.

  Solomon pushes aside the books that are carefully stacked on his table to consult a map. Jackie has seen this several times and is always fascinated by it. Solomon has assured her that nobody will be able to see the map without knowing how to work the magic, although Jackie is always a little nervous about so much intelligence being kept in one place. She was equally startled to find that she could access the map herself, now that Solomon has given her permission. "Looks like they're holed up in an abandoned bank on First Street right now."

  Jackie frowns. "That's an odd place for them to be."

  "Mm. Well, the Larsons—the wendigo family, you know them?—They've taken over a lot of the warehouse district. I think Maya wants to stay away from them as much as possible. They've had a tiff or two lately."

  "Got it." Jackie glances at the map one more time before heading for the door. "See you later."

  She ducks two patrols but makes it to the bank well before sundown. As such, only a few people are there: Maya, Siobhan, and Marcus. The rest are still out scrounging for dinner or supplies. "Hear you've had some trouble with the Larsons."

  "Yeah," Maya says, scowling in greeting. "They pushed us out of zone five."

  Jackie chews on her lower lip. "If they're that much of a problem for you, I could always drop a tip about their current location. Let Leo and his goon squad take care of the problem."

  "No," Maya says. "They might do that to us, but…it's not the sort of thing I want to do."

  "Okay." Jackie drops it. "Couldn't bring a lot today because I had to bring some stuff to Solomon's office, but I have…" She rummages around. "Two boxes of oatmeal mix, a handful of fire starters, a box of condoms—"

  "Thank the sweet baby Jesus!" Siobhan says, snatching them out of Jackie's hand. She grabs Marcus by the wrist and says to Maya, "We're busy. We don't have to take watch tonight. Bye!" With that, she drags Marcus out of the ruined vault.

  "—and a bag of coffee to keep Ryan from getting too cranky," Jackie finishes, without missing a beat. She sees Maya's face tighten. "What?"

  "Ryan's fucked off somewhere," Maya says. "He got pissed when I wouldn't kick Jared out of the pack for sneaking off to see his mother."

  Jackie shrugs. "Hang onto it. He'll be back."

  "I don't know if he will be," Maya says.

  "Well, if I run into him, I'll tell him that you have his coffee, and we'll see if he shows up," Jackie says. Maya's face cracks into a reluctant smile. "What's wrong?"

  "I'm just worried that…I'm doing everything all wrong." Maya turns away, shoving a hand through her hair. "I used to run a lot of my plans past Ryan. It felt weird settling down here to avoid conflict with the Larsons, without talking to him about it first. The pack doesn't like it here, there aren't a lot of windows, but I thought it might be secure. I know he's right about Jared. I know that a beta who doesn't listen is a beta not worth having. But at the same time, he's wrong about Jared. Because Jared has so much heart. He holds the others together in a way that, that I can't."

  "Hey," Jackie says quietly. She slides her hand around Maya's forearm without thinking, and Maya turns to look at her, startled. "Ryan's smart, yeah. But you're smart too. You know why you need Jared because you understand people. You understand your people. Ryan understands my people. Or, you know, the Donovans. I don't really count as one."

  "That doesn't make me feel any better," Maya says. Surprisingly, she's not pulling away.

  "Ryan understands my people, but I understand them too," Jackie says. "You don't have to make every decision by yourself. Just because you're the alpha, doesn't mean that you can't talk to the others, make decisions together."

  "I guess not," Maya says.

  Jackie squeezes her wrist, then drops her hand. "Don't stay here," she says, and Maya gives her a look with arched eyebrows. "It's secure, but almost in a bad way. You have no escape routes. If they get the jump on you, you'll be backed to a wall."

  Maya lets out a breath. "Yeah," she says. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe that's what was bothering me about this place."

  "And don't worry about Ryan," Jackie says. "I'm five hundred percent sure that he can take care of himself."

  *~*~*

  Ryan regrets his decision within twelve hours, but he's too proud to admit it. Sure, he could survive on his own. But he had no idea how exhausting it was. How he could never get a decent moment's rest. Every hour of sleep is peppered with moments of wakefulness, of constantly being on guard.

  It sucks, is the long and the short of it. And more than anything, he wants to just curl up in a safe corner and sleep for ten hours. But there are no safe corners. Not when there isn't anyone who can watch his back. Some food would be nice too. He still hasn't had a square meal. That's pretty common in the winter, but it isn't something he enjoys.

  He's dozing in the library when he hears the door open. The familiar heartbeat, the familiar step. The familiar scent. It makes his mouth water, but he won't admit it. He stays curled up where he is.

  "Ryan?" Nick's voice says.

  Ryan snarls underneath his breath, but pries himself out of his corner and creeps up to the railing. He hopes he doesn't sound as bad as he thinks he does as he rasps out, "What do you want?"

  "Just to talk." Nick frowns up at him. "Jesus Christ."

  Ryan glances around, but then realizes that the expletive refers to him. He had stayed in the shadows last time, and Nick had never gotten a good look at him. Now he can see him, and Ryan's joke about the years being kind is being turned on its head.

  He knows he looks like shit. Who wouldn't? It's probably worse now than it would have been a week previous. The days on his own have taken a toll on him. But the years have been worse. His hair is too long now, coming down just past his chin, and there's an accumulation of scruff on his chin and cheeks. He's dressed in clothes that are way past ragged. He's at least fifty pounds thinner than he had been the last time Nick had seen him. You can't see it through his clothes, but it's there in his cheekbones and his sunken eyes.

  Nick is staring, and Ryan finds that frankly insulting. Does Nick think that he's been living large all these years, that he's somehow above poverty and starvation? Ryan hops over the balcony and lands in front of Nick. He spins in a slow circle so Nick can get a good look. "See anything you like, Nicholas?"

  He can't quite identify Nick's expression. Is it pity? Loathing? Admiration? The question is answered a minute later when Nick holds out a thermos. Ryan can smell the coffee, and it makes his stomach growl. But his mouth tightens and he snarls despite himself. "I don't need your pity."

  "It's not pity," Nick says. "It's a down payment. I need another clue
."

  Ryan gives him a look, but can't quite bring himself to refuse. He grabs the thermos out of Nick's hand and takes a swig. The coffee is still hot, and it sends a rush of warmth through him that he savors. "Couldn't figure it out, hm?"

  "It turns out that cold cases are a little hard to solve when all you've got to go on is a twelve year olds' attitude," Nick says.

  "I gave you far more than that," Ryan says. "It's not my fault if you didn't realize it."

  Nick sighs. "When she was twelve, Jackie had some trouble from the other kids about being an orphan, being adopted. It sent her into a spiral, but she pulled out of it."

  "Mm hm," Ryan says, clutching the coffee and eyeing Nick suspiciously. "You couldn't have brought me a cheeseburger?"

  "We don't get a lot of beef."

  "Pardon me if I don't feel sorry for you."

  Nick sighs. It's clear that he's trying to think of a way to get Ryan to open up to him. "At first I wondered if it had something to do with your family. That was the year before. But I couldn't make a connection."

  "Funny," Ryan says. "I've wondered myself if there is one. If my father was targeted because he knew something about who killed the Jacksons."

  "Doesn't seem likely," Nick says.

  "No, of course not," Ryan says. "It was simply your psychotic brother starting a war on your daddy's orders. And yet again, you've missed the clue I've given you."

  "Damn it, Ryan—" Nick rakes a hand through his hair. "You know that I'm not good at this sort of thing."

  "True," Ryan says. "You've always been so straightforward. You don't think around corners. As usual, I'll have to spell it out for you. My father was not targeted because he knew something about who murdered the Jacksons. I simply wondered for some time if he might have been. So what does that tell you?"

  There's a moment of silence while Nick actually thinks about it. "Did he? Know something?"

  "I don't know."

  "But you thought he might have."

  "My father was one of the most influential alphas in the region. He talked to everyone, he knew almost as much about what was going on as I did. And he was always adamant that the Jacksons had not been killed by a Cold Creek werewolf, so I thought maybe he had an idea about who it might have been."

  "But if he did, why didn't he say anything?"

  Ryan arches his eyebrows at Nick.

  "Oh. That's the clue." Nick chews on this for a minute. "Whoever it was, it was someone that your father couldn't touch. Someone that Sam Callaghan couldn't touch. Which means it must have been someone very important, or protected in some way."

  Ryan sips his coffee. "There's your clue. Now get out."

  "Do you actually know this or was it just something you had suspected?" Nick asks.

  "Bring me something better than coffee next time, and maybe I'll tell you."

  Nick rubs a hand over his face. "Look, Ryan, I know that you're angry. But I don't—"

  "I'm not angry," Ryan interrupts. "I thought I was for a long time. But then I realized that I wasn't. That what hurt most wasn't even the fact that I lost my family. It was that you chose your family over me." He sits down on the edge of a table and watches Nick's expressions chase each other across his face. "I wouldn't have expected it either. That it would sting like that. But it did."

  "Ryan, I didn't choose my family over you," Nick says. "I just thought your family was safer here than they would be outside of Cold Creek. I was wrong, obviously, but I did what I thought was best."

  "I didn't say you loved them more than me," Ryan says. "Just that you chose them. You chose to believe Mitchell's lies about the outside world over what I told you, and now my family is dead. But I'm not angry, Nick. I don't hate you. I'm just tired." He turns away and starts towards the door. "Don't come here again, Nick. I won't be here."

  He leaves the library and gives an automatic shiver. It's night now, and the temperature is dropping. There are still a few inches of coffee left, and he downs it in two swallows before dropping the thermos on the ground. Strangely, he only feels hungrier with it stirring his stomach. He needs to sleep, and he's done, so done, with all of this. He's past the point of pride. If Jared can run away and come crawling back, so can he.

  He follows his nose out to an old water treatment plant on the edge of town. The walls are cracked and pitted with age, and the smell is musty and unappealing. He senses movement up high and approves. Someone has seen him coming. Nobody challenges him as he moves into the main room. Maya is sitting by a fire, and she looks up as Ryan comes in.

  "Hey, Ryan," she says. "Come sit over here where it's warm."

  Ryan nods and does so. Maya hands him a bowl of canned stew and he starts shoveling it into his mouth. A few minutes later, his stomach is no longer growling. "Watches?" he mumbles.

  "Jared and Spencer are on lookout," Maya says.

  Ryan nods in approval. He curls up and goes to sleep.

  Chapter Six

  "Who kicked your puppy?" is how Leo greets Nick when he comes into Leo's office, and he gives his younger brother a dirty look despite himself. He's tired and grumpy, and he doesn't want to deal with Leo's cheerful attitude. Leo sees the expression on Nick's face and lifts his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. What's up?"

  Nick sinks into a chair and tries to sort out his thoughts. He's not sure what to say. He doesn't even particularly want to talk to Leo but feels like he has to talk to somebody. Seeing Ryan had shaken him, and he can't really explain why. It makes sense that Ryan would have been just as affected by the war as anyone else. But somehow, in Nick's mind, he still looked exactly the same. Ryan was smart, cunning, strong—shouldn't he have carved out a decent place for himself in this new world?

  Instead he was gaunt, weak, and starving. Nick hadn't missed the way Ryan's hands had trembled when he had reached for the thermos full of coffee. He hadn't missed the dark circles underneath his eyes, the way he continuously checked his surroundings like he was wary of sudden change. Nick had met someone once who had had the same look after a lengthy stint as a prisoner of war. It was the look of someone who was constantly standing on quicksand.

  It's not that he hasn't seen the same look on other people in town, other monsters they've captured. But it's especially jarring on Ryan, who in his mind's eye is still so confident and polished. Even two days before his family had been killed, after the world had gone to hell, he had been a little rumpled but still very much himself. This Ryan seems like a shadow of his former self.

  And he doesn't know what to do with the 'hints' that Ryan had given him. Ryan might be a shadow physically, but mentally he doesn't seem to have dulled a bit. Ryan is taunting him, possibly lying to him, and definitely has some reason for helping him that Nick hasn't figured out yet.

  There aren't a lot of people that Sam Callaghan would have considered untouchable. He and Carmen had been the strongest alphas and had the strongest pack in the entire Western region. The other alphas nearby were a possibility, but they had all been ruled out at the time. There were some other monsters, but everyone seemed positive it was a werewolf attack. And Nick, who had been so absorbed with Jackie, hadn't thought to ask why. The original case files are probably long gone. He has no access to any of the media that came out at the time.

  But Ryan had given him something else. "I gave you far more than that," the werewolf had said. Somewhere in his taunts and his snark, there was a clue that Nick was missing, a clue that actually would mean something to him.

  "Hello, Nick, earth to Nick," Leo says. "Are you just going to sit at my desk and sulk all day?"

  "Sorry," Nick says. "I was thinking about the Jackson murder. I'm a shit detective, you know that? Give me a werewolf to track or a building to break into and I'm your man. Putting puzzle pieces together, it's not my forte." He shakes his head. "Any leads on the mole?"

  "No, and Dad is pissed," Leo says. "A few nights ago we had a great lead on the Callaghan pack, one of his stooges had seen that Cooper kid go into an old b
uilding, but they just up and vanished. And we know they were there, because a bunch of stuff was still there, so whatever warning they got was pretty last minute. They didn't even grab the food they'd managed to scrape up."

  Nick thinks of Ryan's shaking hands. "But you have no idea who could have tipped them off?"

  "Nope. On the upside, you're in the clear. The tip came in while you were doing the advanced marksman class, and half a dozen guys say you were in their sight from the minute the tip came in until long after the team found an empty warehouse. Poor Dad, he really wanted it to be you," Leo adds cheerfully.

  "Thanks, Leo," Nick says. "That's really comforting."

  Leo shrugs, undeterred. "Anyway, we'll figure it out, but it's going to be an enormous pain in the ass. He wants me to start putting teams together for fake raids, and we're going to have to spread a bunch of false info among the troops, and see who bites. So, you know, that'll be fun."

  "Okay. Keep me posted if I can help out at all."

  "Will do," Leo says. He sets down his ledger and says, "Look, Nick. About the thing with the Jacksons. Just let it go. There was nothing to go on then, and there sure as hell won't be anything to go on now. Have you actually talked to Jackie about what you're doing? Are you sure she wants you to do this?"

  "No," Nick admits. He thinks again of what Ryan had said. Was that the hidden clue? Why is Ryan so sure that Jackie would prefer to leave the deaths of her parents a decade in the past? Ryan doesn't even know Jackie. As far as Nick knows, they've never met. He kept the two parts of his life as separated as possible, especially as the world had spiraled into chaos.

  "Maybe you should talk to her about it," Leo says. "You know, before you start ripping off old scabs."

  "Probably," Nick says. He stands up to go. "Thanks, Leo. I'll talk to you later."

  *~*~*

  Jackie steals what she's going to need for the supply run with Valerie in dribs and drabs. She doesn't want her sister knowing exactly how she gets things, and fortunately, Valerie doesn't ask. Jackie hands her a duffel bag and says, "If you're coming, you might as well carry some stuff. I can handle more that way."