“Will you all stop saying that?” I didn’t mean to raise my voice. “Unexpected things happen in the world every day. We live in a place of magic and undead and endless possibilities bound only by our own perceived limitations. He is what he is. If you don’t like it, ignore it. It’s not true. Fine. But don’t turn on your packmates over it. Isaac is a wolf. What difference does it make who his parents were? What difference does it make if his parents were the first wolves in space or human serial killers? He is himself. Not them.”
“Cass, listen. It’s not like that. Not like we think we’re pure and perfect and humans are not. Humans and shifters have intermixed since the beginning of the species. Used to be, they even knew each other for what they were.”
“Then tell me what it’s about.”
“It’s the way we’re taught.” Zar opened his hands to me, beseeching. “Moon’s teaching says wolf has pups only with wolf. A wolf and human pairing generally bears nothing at all. Possibly a human child in rare instances. The gene is recessive. If both parents don’t possess it, there will be no shifter birth.”
“Then either his mother had the gene, even though she was human, maybe a grandparent shifter, something that came down the line and connected to that gene in his wolf father, or there’s some other explanation. Such as, it does happen, but the wolves who are born from these unions are so aware that other wolves would turn on them and drive them from their packs that they hide what they are. If they can keep themselves a secret, and if there’s such bigotry in your packs, for all you know, there could be hundreds and you simply don’t know about it. I can’t imagine why they would ring up Diana to add themselves to a register.”
All three stared at me, silent, either thinking that over—in some horror—or thinking how asinine I was for such wild flights of fancy.
Zar swallowed again.
“You all aren’t going to let this go with him, are you?” I asked quietly.
“Cass … these are laws of science. Try to see it how we do. It’s not about purity of blood in an elitist sense. It’s not shifters are ‘better’ and humans are ‘worse’ so we wouldn’t want to mingle. There have always been human and shifter unions. We live close, we mix. Just like we love you, Cass. We all love you.
“But, for thousands of years, Moon’s teachings say one and one is two—yet he’s saying no, it’s three: that an outside species can mix with shifter kind and create shifters. Yes, we feel that outside blood is different. Because it is. Not because humans are dirty or lesser or we’re a superior species. But because human genes nullify shifter genes. Period.”
Zar pushed a hand into his long hair and left the hand there at the top of his head, taking deep breaths. “Pups—children—are always a blessing. Moonlight reaches all. It’s only that if you are not full-blooded you are not a shifter. We are separate, and it is our burden to remain separate. Some wolves may interpret that teaching as shifter blood being pure and human, or total wolf, being impure. I’ve personally read the original records of our oldest texts. They never use language like that. They say that shifters were blessed to walk both worlds but the responsibility would remain exclusive. Varied interpretations may spring off from there. What Jed may have implied about impurity is only a metaphor.
“The reason we’re having a hard time with this is that I don’t believe one and one make three. Nor do the rest of us. If evidence did arrive that one and one made three, surely it would come with a bang. We would sniff it out, know it on sight. Instead, Isaac is telling us everything we’ve been taught is wrong. That’s why we’re upset. Our faith, our understanding of how the world works, is being shaken.
“Personally, I don’t believe Isaac. I don’t see how all of our silvers and elders and parents for a hundred generations could simply be blind. But I also don’t see why Isaac would tell such a story, or how he himself could have been deceived into thinking his own mother was a human being when she was a wolf. He would have smelled it, he would have known.
“I don’t want you to be hurt… I’m sorry I’m not explaining it adequately…”
“Andrew didn’t seem so upset.”
“Andrew is not devout. And comes from another pack and certain other teachings.”
“Okay.” I pulled out a chair to sit, though no one else moved. “Thank you. I appreciate you trying to help me understand where you’re coming from. You’re right. I still don’t get it. If I woke up tomorrow and there was a … talking ocelot … with wings … in my bedroom, I’d be shocked. I’d want to understand how it came about—what sort of magic was this? But no more. I wouldn’t turn to Goddess and say, ‘You promised me there were no winged, talking ocelots in the world! How dare you lie!’ That wouldn’t even cross my mind.
“But your background and faith and culture are different from mine. I do think I see what you’re getting at. I know what you mean about different interpretations. Also about being blindsided by something really big that you don’t understand—which, therefore, is scary. That’s hard on anyone. I get that much. I’m sorry this is something we can’t see eye to eye on but … making an effort is a very good step.”
He nodded. “We … it’s a lot to think about.”
I rubbed my eyes. “You’re going to tell the pack, aren’t you?”
“We have to tell the pack. Diana needs to know something like that. If this is—”
“Zar.” I looked up and he stopped. “Think about what you’re saying. Think about what is happening to the Sables and the whole south coast and wolves right now. And this is what you want to bring up?
“That’s me not understanding how significant this is for you. But just think about it. Isaac is our pack. He’s our friend. I love him and I don’t think it’s too much to ask that the rest of you have a little bit of respect for him as well. If that is too much, would you maybe consider a personal favor to me of offering at least some compassion? Not just for Isaac, but for the Sables right now. This is not a top priority. It might feel like one. It might be something that keeps wolf scholars and elders up for years to come. Right now, right here, our lives are hanging in the balance.
“If one of our number turns out to be a winged, talking ocelot, or an angel, or demon, or Thor, or even a half-wolf, half-human shapeshifter, we still have a job to do. People are counting on us. Not least of which … each other. Just … think about that. Before you phone home. Before you turn on him—and on me. Please, stop and think very carefully. About what’s the most important thing to you, and what your own priorities are here and now. All of you.”
Looking around at them, I let out a tight breath that seemed to rattle through my chest. “And … when you’ve decided, let me know.”
Chapter 21
Isaac did not come back. And still did not. By the time Madison was home from work for the evening, I tried his number. Nothing. I texted Andrew, who assured me they were fine: just hiking, and he supposed they’d be back for bed.
He was only following Isaac at fifty yards on the rugged trails that apparently climbed everywhere in the foothills above Ambleside, overlooking the town, the lake, and twining into woods and a scenic waterfall. All of these places were heavily traveled my local walkers and tourists, not to mention it was broad daylight.
All the same, I couldn’t settle until Isaac finally returned after sunset.
Then … I still couldn’t settle. No time or privacy to chat.
Isaac told me only that Orion had called back. We could go up to the border in the morning. But he told me in a text.
Andrew stayed downstairs to sleep in the living room with him. Jed—who I still couldn’t look at without my heart pounding, feeling betrayed myself—curled up on the floor under the desk. Jason remained on the floor with Kage. Zar hovered.
I had to invite him to the daybed, assure him I wasn’t mad at him, before he sat with me. I understood about faith and beliefs. Zar couldn’t just throw out his whole upbringing. What I did not understand was letting that background overr
ide personal values such as loyalty to a friend or commitment to a pack. Turning on any one of this family felt like turning on everyone. Including me. Which, really, was perhaps what hurt so much about Zar and Jed in particular. It wasn’t that I’d thought either were tight with Isaac. Yet Zar had been nothing but solicitous toward me since the night we’d met. While Jed, I’d thought, had really been turning around, certainly grown to respect me. Now…
In the morning, I joined Isaac heading for the Jeep, Andrew coming along without hesitation, but the brothers apparently conflicted. Neither wanted to be anywhere near Isaac. At the same time, they wouldn’t leave me.
Jed, who hadn’t shown the slightest inclination, finally must have decided he couldn’t let me face outside dangers alone and came to the door in fur while Zar was just stepping out. I heard the commotion behind us as Isaac and I, followed by Andrew, walked down the sidewalk for Kage’s street-parked Jeep around the corner.
“Are you mad? You can’t come out like that—” Zar tried to shove Jed back with the door against Jed’s growls. Zar swore, telling him to change if he wanted to come.
We got in and Isaac pulled the Jeep around front, stopping at the door.
Zar looked desperately around, then dashed to open the far back. Jed flashed out and leapt in.
Isaac was silent as we drove out.
I followed his lead, feeling I couldn’t talk to the group as a whole about anything other than what we were setting out to do.
Andrew and Zar sat in the back, gazing out the windows. Jed lay in the far back without a stitch of clothing, wallet, etc. What if something came up? What if we had to stop? If he had to get out?
Isaac only watched the road, not asking for directions or using any sort of GPS. Clearly, he knew the area very well.
I watched through the passenger window and ahead to the lush landscapes of fells and lakes, past the postcard village of Grasmere, north along a lake’s edge toward Keswick before heading east to Penrith, then due north again for the border.
I was certain Isaac was unsurprised by the way he was being treated. Aside from that, what was he thinking?
What were Zar and Jed thinking today? Had they used any of last night to mull over the whole thing?
Did Jed feel even a shred of remorse for outing Isaac? Or was he glad of it? Disgusted and frightened by what Isaac was, and feeling it was his duty to say something?
What about Andrew? I had no idea what he thought about the whole thing in the first place.
And why was a ridiculous subject like this taking all my mental energy in light of Kage and I almost having been killed by undead fairies?
We’d been driving for half an hour before I said quietly, “This is the most beautiful part of England I’ve ever seen.”
Isaac only nodded.
“Did Orion sound like he has any leads for us?”
“He’s been asking, he and Rowan ringing others, and glad to meet us if we liked. Leads…? I don’t think so.” Isaac’s voice was calm, neutral. Nothing unusual there. All the same, it didn’t feel usual this time.
“We’ll have to ask him about their recent loss. It must have just happened. Rowan would have told me.” I sighed, watching the mighty fells ribbed by dry stone walls running for miles, climbing in long arcs over their bulks. “Thank you. If you hadn’t known where Madison was … if she hadn’t been willing to help us…” I slowly shook my head. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you to decide to knock on her door. Or for her to help.”
Isaac glanced at me, then away, leaving things unsaid like smoke dispersing in the air around us.
With our audience, we were the ones who needed to go for a long walk. Of course, we couldn’t. I was more mindful of placing myself in danger now than I had been a week ago—before discovering we were eight. Before Henry…
If Isaac and I couldn’t get away to talk, that left the Jeep or Madison’s home—both crowded and the size of shoeboxes. Which, instead, left a long recess in our futures.
We talked about Orion, Dumfries, Kage, my arm, and reavers instead. Zar said he wished he had his books, but it wasn’t as if there was much in them anyway. This reminded me that Stefan still hadn’t called back.
Gavin, at least, had texted last night. I could almost see him roll his eyes. He’d reminded me that he’d said from the first it sounded like an undead creature was stalking us. Yes, but not as if he’d run in and said legends about reavers were true. We’d had no reason to take him seriously.
He also reiterated that necromancy was the only way he knew of to raise dead beings other than vampires, but he’d thought that particular magic art had died out hundreds of years ago with wild mages. And even then it wasn’t possible with mammals—too complex an organism to reanimate.
Dead snakes that move and bite might be a lively talking point for the dinner party, but not much use after the shine wears off, he’d said. All the same, it could be worth looking into what sort of modern casters fancy that kind of party to lead the way to your reavers. I’ll ask Mother but communicating with the ancient ones is as much fun, and as much use, as fishing from an aeroplane.
He hadn’t gotten back to me with anything Mother had said.
Rowan had texted that he wished he could come and see us with Orion and asked how Kage and I were doing.
The cottage was in the countryside ten minutes from Dumfries and nearly on the Scotland/England border. As we headed north a vague, gray, drippy sort of day cleared to a dazzling morning of scudding clouds over a background of azure blue, rolling green, and peaceful woods, becks, stone bridges, and grazing sheep.
“Welcome to Scotland,” Isaac gave me a quick look, not quite a smile, but I was gratified he could unbend enough to say something he would have normally said.
“Thank you.” I smiled. “I can’t wait for the grand tour.”
He also smiled just a bit then. Many weeks ago, Isaac had promised to take me sightseeing in Scotland. I knew he hadn’t forgotten.
When he parked in the gravel drive, alone yet another stone wall, it reminded me how many millions there were: gravel, plus dry stone wall. We probably never would find exactly where Peter and the others had been. Judging by a few nights ago, though, I’d place my money on somewhere around the Duddon Valley.
I was startled to see there were already a few yellowing leaves in the trees out front, reminded with a bump that it wasn’t high summer anymore. It was the end of summer. Time we stopped this. Time we knew how to.
Even more startling was the explosion of barks from the old house and surrounding yard, only partly closed in by hedges and walls.
Two black and white dogs, border collies, and a little brown, scruffy-haired terrier, charged the Jeep before Isaac had the engine off.
We climbed out to a raucous greeting, the three dogs wagging and sniffing at me, apparently ready to forgive the intrusion for the thrill of escorting us—only the others did not meet with the same approval.
Zar and I were the first out on the same side and the dogs had just offered me some cheerful wags when they sniffed him and sprang away.
The terrier barked ferociously, hopping backward on stiff little legs. The border collies darted in circling motions, barking, or only staring, pacing a semicircle from the front to rear of the Jeep as if unable to walk straight lines.
Someone called and the border collies flashed away, down the stone path to the green front door where a middle-aged man had just stepped out, waving at us. Another black and white dog with gray face and clouded eyes stood at his side. The brown terrier would not relent and went right on barking at Zar, then Isaac as we made our way to the path. It was a shrill, piercing sound that destroyed the country ambiance and set my nerves jangling, though it must be far worse for my companions with their superior ears.
With the three other dogs sent inside on command, our host came to meet us, stepped past Isaac and me, and grabbed the terrier mid-bark, whisking it into the air.
“I do beg your pardon,” he
said with a little laugh, shaking his head. “I daresay Kimmy has never had the pleasure of company such as yours. We adopted her from the dog’s home in Carlisle just a few months ago. The previous owners turned her in because they were having a baby. I simply cannot understand people sometimes. Anyway, you all come in and welcome. I’ll shut her in our room and she’ll settle down.”
I’d expected Orion to be Scottish. Instead, he sounded like an English bank executive. Or a country gentleman from one of those BBC period dramas like Downton Abbey. I half expected him to say “Jolly good” as we traded quick introductions before he headed back inside to shut up the now quiet Kimmy.
Someone was pummeling the window glass in the Jeep behind us. Someone who may have been partly responsible for the dogs’ strong reactions.
With a huff, Zar turned back to the Jeep.
“Don’t let him out,” I said. “He wanted to come in fur, he can stay there.”
“I’ll just open the back—”
“The dogs,” Isaac said. “Roll the windows down all the way and leave him.” He also returned to put the key in the ignition so they could lower the windows.
Zar opened a door to tell Jed. Jed followed the opening with a leap that knocked Zar flat in the gravel and grass, shouting oaths. Jed sailed over him and started down the path to me. As if we’d simply forgotten to let him out, but now this would be totally fine.
Andrew rolled his eyes.
I went to meet Jed, pointing, the preexisting anger bubbling up with this new behavior. And in fur, no less. His good side.
“What is your problem?” I demanded. “You wanted to come like that, so you stay like that and wait in the car. You can’t get out and be around his dogs—they’d be terrified. And don’t bulldoze your way through us just because you can. You think that’s a good way to get what you want around here?”
“He doesn’t like dogs,” Zar said, also angry, scrambling up. “Probably wants a go at scaring them.” One hand was skinned and starting to bleed after he’d thrown it out to catch his fall on the gravel.
Moonlight Whispers: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 8) Page 12
