Gabby sighs. "I promise. But only because I know you're going to go anyway."
"Oh, am I?"
"Yeah. Your curiosity will get the better of you." Gabby gives a little shrug and releases the dog as Miranda finishes up.
Ryan looks annoyed, but Solomon is already putting together the supplies they've asked for. Gabby accepts the bag and thanks him. By the time she looks up, Ryan is gone.
*~*~*
Jackie is willing to wait another week before taking patrol again, because she really doesn't want to go on them, but she's not going to wait another week before she brings supplies and the schedule to the Callaghan pack. To get the schedule, she has to be on the schedule, so she disobeys her father and goes down to HQ to tell them that she's all better and she can start taking shifts again. Twenty minutes later, she leaves with the new patrol schedule.
Nick gives her an exasperated look when she finds this out. "You were seriously ill," he tells Jackie.
"Yeah, but I'm fine now," Jackie says, and waits until her father has left the room to have her coughing fit. She honestly does feel fine, but the cough has lingered. She ignores it.
What she can't ignore is Valerie, who corners her that evening. "Are you just taking patrol so you can get more supplies?"
"Yes," she tells her, and as soon as she opens her mouth, she says, "and you're not coming this time, Valerie. I can't look out for you while I'm not in peak condition. Maybe next time."
"I want to help people," she says.
Jackie sighs. "Look, Val, I know that you're upset because you talked to Dad and as I predicted, it got you absolutely nowhere. But doing what I do is hard enough without…complications. Okay?"
Valerie is quiet for a minute before saying, "Is it going to be like this forever?"
"I don't know," Jackie says.
Valerie walks away without saying anything else. Jackie goes to bed, but she's up at eleven and heading to the supply warehouse. She won't be able to bring a lot of heavy stuff. She's not confident in her strength yet. So it's mostly lighter goods like pasta and beans and nuts. She throws in some orange juice concentrate so nobody will get scurvy and then heads out.
The foot of snow they had gotten is mostly gone now. It's cold out, but the worst of winter is over. She's bundled up regardless, because she doesn't want to get sick again. The roads are edged with slush and mud. It's been in the thirties during the day, so the snow is melting.
"Hey, Solomon, where are my peeps?" Jackie calls out, but the clinic is empty. She pulls out the map and goes through the motions the way Solomon had showed her, looking for the concentrations of energy, for the crimson energy that means an alpha. She doesn't know how he knows the difference between Gisela and Maya, but she always does.
She's not surprised to see that they've left the car dealership. Now they're holed up in an abandoned apartment building. It's one of their favored haunts, and she's guessing that Maya has chosen it because she knows it's relatively safe. It's also far away from the water treatment plant and the wendigos that have set up shop there. Jackie chews on her lip and again thinks of dropping a tip to Leo's guys about them. It's not even entirely for the Callaghan pack's benefit. Jackie is well aware that although most supernatural creatures mind their own business and don't hurt anybody, there are a few bad eggs. Wendigos are nasty. It's not exactly their fault that they survive by consuming human flesh, but the Larsons have never been particularly picky about whether or not that flesh was still alive when they got there.
She sighs and shelves it for now, closing up the map and heading out into the night. The apartment building is a good half hour away, and she shoulders her bag. It's nearly midnight when she gets there, and the pack is asleep. She gets in through a side door without anyone challenging her. That surprises her a little, but she supposes that whoever was on watch just didn't bother to stop her. She sets her things down quietly.
It's stupid to be annoyed that whoever's on watch didn't wake the others. It's not like she expected a banner and confetti. But she has to admit that she had hoped her return would be a little more than dropping off a box and slinking away into the night.
"Hey—hey!" Jared hisses, as he climbs out of the pile of sleeping bodies. "Hey, you're back! We have something for you."
"You have—something for me?" Jackie asks, blinking at him.
"Yeah!" Jared shuffles around in their things and then thrusts a brown paper bag at her.
Jackie frowns and peers inside to see a little stack of notes. She pulls them out and starts leafing through. The one on top is scrawled in brown crayon and reads: 'Hi Jackie we miss you hope your feeling better Kyra' with a little stick figure bird. The next is written in neatly compact script. 'Hello, Jackie. We heard that you were sick from a patrol. I hope that it wasn't too serious. Maya has missed you and frowns a lot (not that that's anything new). I'm sorry that we couldn't come up with anything to give you besides these notes. Your friend, Dominic.'
Jackie continues to blink in surprise and bewilderment as she goes through the letters. Some of them are quite short, like Kyra's and Spencer's, but a few of them are long. Gabby tells her about how they had to move out of the car dealership because there was no roof and how they still have a little cinnamon left so she should have some. Marcus writes about how they've gotten the solar battery working, just in time for the week-long string of cloudy days, and recommends ginger tea for any lingering symptoms she might have.
"You okay?" Jared asks, and Jackie realizes that she's crying, which is unacceptable, really. She snuffles and wipes her eyes hastily.
"Yeah, I just…" Jackie pulls out the last note and unfolds it. She's not sure what to expect from Maya, and somehow she's not surprised to see that the letter just reads 'I don't like it when you're sick.—Maya.' She's not sure whether she wants to laugh or cry, and wipes at her eyes again.
"What did Maya write? She wouldn't tell us."
Jackie stuffs the note into her pocket. "Nothing, just generic crap," she says. She looks over at the pile of sleeping bodies and sees that Maya's eyes are open. She quickly looks away, glad her dark skin and the dim light make her blush invisible. "Hey, tell the others I'll try to come by next week, okay? I couldn't carry a lot of heavy stuff today so there isn't a lot there. But I'll be back."
"Okay." Jared gives her a hug and then waves as she turns and quickly jogs away.
*~*~*
Ryan's watching from the balcony as Nick comes into the library, pulling down his scarf to reveal his jaw and that ridiculously attractive beard. He doesn't say anything, waits for Nick to figure out he's there. As usual, it only takes the hunter a few seconds. "Ryan," he says, and there's a note of relief to his voice. He's glad that Ryan answered his message, even if he probably knows that it was mostly due to curiosity.
"Yes, I'm here," Ryan says. He avoids the rickety staircase, jumping over the balcony to land in a neat crouch. He has no idea why he's there, but both Nick and Gabby were right. He can't just not go find out what Nick wants. Curiosity has long been his downfall. Besides, he wants to know if Nick has gotten anywhere in his search for the Jacksons' murderers. He's curious about what Nick will do if he ever figures it out.
"You look…better," Nick says.
"Very tactful," Ryan replies. "Yes, I had had a rough week before our last visit. This time I've actually eaten in the past three days. I must look fantastic."
"I didn't mean it like that," Nick says.
"I don't particularly care how you meant it," Ryan says. "Say what you have to say."
Nick lets out a breath. He tugs almost nervously at the bottom of his jacket. It's an odd behavior on him. "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" Ryan echoes.
"Yes. I was thinking about it the other day and realized that I had never…I never apologized for what happened. So I'm sorry. You asked for my help, and I wouldn't give it to you. I had my reasons, but that doesn't change the fact that I refused to help you. So I'm sorry."
Ryan ponders
this for a long minute before a smile flits across his face. "Aw, Nick," he says. "You do still love me."
Nick's mouth tightens a little, and he looks away, but he doesn't deny it.
Ryan walks over to him. He rests his hands on Nick's chest, lightly, one hand toying with his jacket's zipper. "I've missed you, you know," he says, and tilts his chin up. He couldn't make it more obvious that he wants to be kissed, and Nick obliges. He leans down slowly, giving Ryan time to pull away, before he brushes his lips over Ryan's. He does this once, twice, then leans in for a deeper kiss. Ryan makes it a good one. "Do you know what I think?" he murmurs against Nick's mouth, when they come up for air.
"What do you think?" Nick asks.
"I think…that I don't still love you." Ryan steps back. He watches it hit Nick, watches the rejection lodge underneath his breastbone. "And I don't want your fucking apology."
He turns and walks away. But he's only made it a few steps when Nick says, "You used to be a better liar."
Ryan knows he shouldn't stop, but he does, half-turning back and raising his eyebrows.
"If you didn't feel anything for me, you never would have come here today," Nick says.
"I didn't say I felt nothing," Ryan says. "Just that I didn't love you. I felt plenty of things upon receiving your invitation. I felt curious. I felt angry. I felt…hm, what's the best word for this?" His lip curls. "Contempt. That's what I feel for you now, Nick. Did you seriously think you could just apologize and make everything all better? That I would melt back into your arms? Did you think your apology would make a God damned bit of difference to me?"
"No," Nick says. "But I figured that regardless of whether or not you accepted it, I still needed to say it. So I'm sorry, Ryan."
"You are sorry," Ryan agrees. "You're a contradiction in terms, did you know that? I can't call you a coward. You're one of the bravest men I know. You only show this complete lack of courage when it comes to me. To us. For a long time I thought it was me, did you know that? I thought that there must be something about me that meant I wasn't worth your courage. But it's not me. It's not even my fur and fangs," he adds. "It's you. You'll face down death and pain without blinking. But when the very thought of your father's disapproval lurks on the horizon, you're suddenly an enormous baby. And do you know what? That, I would have forgiven you for, because I can only imagine what your childhood must have been like.
"But what I won't forgive you for is the fact that you used me. For years. I was your way of rebelling against him. Daddy makes you mad, you run and fuck your werewolf to get back at him. But when I needed you, you weren't willing to take any risks for me. I only ever existed to you when it was convenient. So you can keep your apology, Nick, and you can stop presuming that you know how I feel about anything."
Nick closes his eyes for a long minute. Then he nods. This time it's him who walks away.
Chapter Nine
Jackie slogs through the last couple weeks of winter as well as she can. She takes Valerie on another run to Solomon's, carrying more supplies for the people in town. They focus on children, carrying diapers and wipes, and the elderly or ill, smuggling out painkillers and hot packs. Valerie somehow manages to track down several boxes of crayons—the troops keep them for emergency candles, of all things—and several mothers start crying when she hands them out.
Valerie has been unusually quiet lately, and Jackie tries to draw her out, but she doesn't really want to talk much. Jackie knows that it has to be hard on her, seeing her family for what it really is. But she doesn't know what to say. Not until Valerie finally asks, "Why do you do this?"
"Because I have to," she says.
"No, I know that," she replies. "I mean…why did you start doing this? What made you…not believe in the…the rules?"
"Oh." Jackie chews on her lower lip and tries to decide how much to tell her. "You know that Mom and Dad kept us sheltered from all of this as much as they could. Well, when I ran away when I was thirteen, remember the old woman who helped me? She told me about how things really were. I just…opened my eyes, after that."
"It probably helped that Mitchell treats you like crap, huh," she says glumly.
"Sure as hell didn't hurt."
Valerie nods a little. "Can I…can I tell you a secret?"
"Sure," Jackie says, and gestures. "You know some of mine, what am I gonna do?"
"It's just…I know that hunting down the supernatural monsters is important, safety of the townspeople, can't control their instincts, et cetera," she says, and waves this off. "I just…I really miss Dominic. I know it's silly, I'm only seventeen, but…I thought Dominic was the one for me. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. And now, he could be dead and I wouldn't even know. I wish more than anything that I could see him again."
Jackie reaches out and squeezes her hand. She can't tell Valerie that she knows exactly where Dominic is and that he's actually doing pretty well, all things considered. Valerie might miss Dominic, but she wouldn't take well to a bunch of werewolves. "Maybe someday you will."
"You're not mad?" Valerie asks.
"Why would I be mad?"
"I know you hate werewolves, so…"
"I don't hate werewolves," Jackie says, and Valerie looks at her, surprised. "I hate the werewolves who killed my parents," she continues, "but I don't know that all werewolves are like that. I know that's what Mitchell wants us to think, but…I just don't know, Val. I mean, humans can do horrible things too. Humans can commit murder. So the fact that werewolves killed my parents doesn't mean I hate all werewolves."
"But…you're in the militia."
"Yeah, because that's how I could get access to the supplies," she says. "Mitchell was going to make me join anyway, I mean, because of my pubescent rage, so I figured I might as well use the opportunity as much as I could. Why not?"
"Huh," she says, and seems to ponder this. "I guess you're right. About people doing horrible things too."
The edge of the compound is coming into sight. Jackie waits for the lights to be directed elsewhere and then gives her sister an alley-oop over the fence. "Do you think Dad really believes in all this?" Valerie asks.
Jackie shrugs. "I don't think Dad knows what he believes."
They walk the rest of the way in silence.
She's up early the next morning, wolfs down a bowl of oatmeal, and heads to the training headquarters. She wants to snoop around a little before she has to go out on patrol. It's easy enough, because nobody thinks to guard their mouths around her. She's just another guy in the militia. So she finds out pretty quickly that there's a raid scheduled that night to hit the coven that's been living underground. She doesn't know where they are, and the guy doesn't say, so she'll have to bring the information to Solomon. He'll find a way to warn them.
When she gets back from her patrol later that day, she heads to HQ to trade in her dirty uniforms for clean ones. A group of men are standing around talking as she squeezes past them to get to the cupboards.
"Hey, you going on the raid tonight?"
"Yeah. It's a late one, right? Midnight?"
Jackie pricks her ears up, because the raid of the witches had been scheduled for dusk. Witches are more powerful at night, so hitting them at midnight would be a bad idea. Go in at dusk, and you could get to them before they got their mojo working.
"Yeah. Can't wait to hang some pelts on my wall."
"No shit, right? Lieutenant Donovan said that there's a special bonus for whoever bags the alpha."
Jackie takes her pile of uniforms and decides she has to risk a question. It'll just look like curiosity; there's probably no harm in it. And there are never two raids in one night. They just don't have the manpower. So she asks, "Which alpha?"
"Rumor has it that someone sent in a tip about the Callaghan pack," the man says. "Living in some abandoned apartment building."
"Huh, cool," Jackie says. "Good luck, shoot a werewolf for me."
She leaves HQ but doesn't go home. Instead s
he just finds a bench and sits down, trying to figure out what to do. The only reason they would do two raids in one night—or three, or four—is because they know there's a mole. Jackie has no doubt that the information she's stumbled upon is being very tightly controlled. Mitchell wants to see what raid is disrupted. He's narrowing down his options.
Practically, what that means is that anyone might be raided tonight—or no one at all. And it means that she can't warn anybody. Not without risking being caught. And then she'll be no good to anyone. The Callaghans will be okay. If they even get raided, it'll be a small party, something they can handle, if they even decide to stick around and fight back. Whoever's on watch will smell and hear the goons coming, and they can always get out the back. She hopes.
*~*~*
Maya isn't a huge fan of the old apartment building, which over the years has hosted a lot of different supernatural creatures. There are probably others there even now, hiding in the various rooms. It's also used by drug dealers and prostitutes and other humans who want to conduct business away from the militia's eyes. Their supply to fancy drugs has been cut off, but there are people in town still trying to grow marijuana or tobacco, and there's plenty of bathtub moonshine to go around. The humans are never thrilled to share the space with the werewolves, but they don't want the Donovans onto them anymore than the werewolves do.
So an uneasy truce exists between the factions, and Maya never sleeps well when they're staying at the tenement. Their options are limited, though, so they spend two weeks there every few months. She sleeps a little better now that Jackie has been helping them, but still tosses and turns.
It's hard to sleep on this particular night because it's raining: a cold, hard rain. People in town are excited because it means that spring is probably taking over from winter. Maya isn't excited, per se, but she is relieved. The pack needs to get more time outside. They've been crammed together all winter, and everyone's temper is short. Even the people who get along are being snippy with each other, and those that don't are worse than ever. Ryan's being moody about something, which increases his sarcasm tenfold, and nobody is happy with that.
The More Things Change Page 14
