“Thank you. Would you come talk with me?”
“What do you want?” He looked at my hand and didn’t take it. There was already something in his left. A wadded up cloth or fabric ball.
“To talk.”
“Why?”
“Because I care about you and I want your help with something.”
He looked … suspicious. I think it was the first part that he didn’t believe.
He climbed the stile, though, jumped down beside me, and I led him off south through the wood.
It wasn’t a Pacific Northwest forest, crowded with all manner of thick trees and ferns and undergrowth, fallen logs, hanging moss, and jagged footing. It was a smooth, gently sloping wood of the type one imagines to accompany stories like The Wind in the Willows. You didn’t need a trail to cross it, but could head any which way, slipping through shade and sunlight, listening to the birds and breeze and darting squirrels in every tree. A place for foxes to hunt at twilight and children to play hide and seek on long summer days.
We emerged back to the field far down its length, not quite as far as the stone barn. Here, along the footpath through stubbled golden, green, and brown grass, we could see the length of the trailer park that lined the road, just across the field and beyond the fence there.
I leaned on the trunk of a chestnut tree, still in the shade, and pressed one foot into it, the other supporting my weight in the dry earth at the tree’s roots.
Jed scowled at the row of homes and the group of his kin, visible at the end of the road where the fence ran into the hedge. Their still arguing voices sounded distant, like chattering squirrels.
He turned his back to this disagreeable vision and rested his right hand on my tree trunk at eye-level, leaning into it and waiting for me.
“I’m sorry, Jed.” I looked at him. “This has come at a bad time.” Leaves waved over us. A red-breasted robin flitted past. “I wish you could see Mount Baker, the Cascades, the Canadian wilderness.” I sighed. “I know your life is hard here. When I talked to Gabriel he sounded a little like you talking about the Beech Pack. He loves you, but he doesn’t agree with your lifestyles. Maybe your whole family is the restless sort. Gabriel wanted more. You want less. Zar wants escapism in the reading he does and the songs he writes.”
I watched a swallow sail out of the broken down barn and into the woods.
“I wanted out also. Out of New Mexico to go to a city with good schools. Out of school to start my career. Out of magic so I didn’t have to be a witch. Now … I find myself confused. I’m not sure anymore. That scares me. Uncertainty is to fear as being trapped is to anger: each building fear and anger in their wake. And, sometimes, anger is just another form of grief. Sometimes we lash out because, if we didn’t, if we stopped to really look at everything behind the anger, everything that built up and led to it, we couldn’t even function. We’d just … sob. Anger keeps us moving forward. There’s nothing wrong with that. As long as no one gets hurt.”
I shifted against the tree to face him, pulling my gaze from more swallows. I sighed. “Sorry to bore you.”
“There he is!” A clear, ringing shout from the top of the field. A few males, including Zar and Peter, had come out there, set to follow Jed, and one had just spotted us in plain sight at the edge of the wood.
“The bugger’s been right there,” Philip shouted. “He didn’t change at all. Adam! You little twit! Jed’s in the field with the witch!”
The rest was indistinct as everyone turned around, the party breaking up.
Only Zar stood at the top of the field for a minute after the rest climbed back over the fence, watching us.
“What is that?” I asked softly.
Jed followed my gaze to his left hand. He held up what turned out to be a ball. Made of compressed wool, of no particular color—sort of bluish or purplish gray and brown—it was clearly old, the size of a grapefruit, and I was pretty sure it was meant to be a toy for large dogs. I was more sure I’d seen it before. Jed had brought it with him when we’d visited Cornwall. Maybe other times as well.
He turned the ball in his hand, giving a shrug.
“That was a nice idea, making a ball of wool,” I said. “Everything’s plastic these days.”
“I didn’t make it.” He frowned, still looking at the ball.
“Where did you get it?”
“Mum gave it to me when I was a pup.”
“It’s held up well. You’ve taken care of it.”
He nodded slowly, turning the ball again in his fingers, then offered it to me.
I pressed it between both hands, smiling. “It’s heavy. And a lot harder than it looks. I bet it feels wonderful in your teeth.”
He only watched me for a moment and I wasn’t sure about his expression. Maybe gratified, maybe a bit confused.
After a pause in which I turned the ball and Jed watched my hands, he said, “Sorry you didn’t get anywhere with that vampire.”
“Me too.” I handed the toy back. “But there’s still the book. And, now, the kindred asking for help.”
Jed looked to my face from the wool. He shifted his stance, using both hands to press it as I had, visibly relaxing as he did so.
“Help with what?” he asked.
Hadn’t he been paying attention when we’d all gathered and Isaac and Andrew had been interested to hear about my scries? No … he’d probably been hung up on how stupid the plan had been for visiting London for me to poke around after vampires in the middle of the night.
“I don’t know,” I said. "I think they’re in danger.”
“How can a kindred be in danger? It’s a spirit.”
“They have physical form. They can be caught, even killed. But I have no idea how. I don’t even know how to summon them. Your elders are trying to help. My grandmother used to be able to communicate with them. Zar’s reading up for us. The thing is … I have a feeling this is all related. Shifters’ deaths, druids as well, vampires spawning, wolves turning up in cities, the kindred pleading for help… There’s something going on here that’s bigger than murdering south coast wolves.”
“Do they even talk?” Jed rolled the ball from hand to hand, frowning slightly, but thoughtfully. “It’s hard to even say what they are—bits of sea foam and pebble, twilight glow and Moon’s reflection on waves—much less expect them to talk.”
“Yes, that’s the trouble, even after finding them. They’re telepathic, but that doesn’t mean they can, or will…” I looked up from the hypnotic motion of the ball in his hands. “What did you say?”
Jed also glanced up, meeting my eyes. He hesitated.
I nearly grabbed his arm but stopped myself. “Jed, have you … seen kindred?” My voice had dropped to a breath without meaning it to.
Another shrug, the frown still there. “They like the beach at night. Wild places, when no one’s around.”
I stood stupidly, mouth once more open, brain shorted out, numb.
Jed shifted uncomfortably, averting his gaze. “I didn’t know you were looking for them,” he muttered. “They won’t come out around worms, so it’s no good anyway. And I couldn’t take you to them if I wanted to. It’s three more Moons before I can change.”
“You’re a wolf to them,” I managed at last. “Your energy to them is like a total wolf so they don’t mind you seeing them. Jed, if you were there, and Zar was able to request a word with them, we could go to the beach—”
Jed stepped back, shaking his head, shoulders stiff again. “I can’t.”
“I’ll talk to Zacharias. They have to see this is more important than—”
“Not the lockdown. I…” He looked around toward the pack’s homes, across the field, scowling, then at the ball. “They can’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“The pack can’t know I’ve seen them there. It’s…”
“You’re not allowed to go to the beach in fur, are you?”
He shook his head, still not looking at me.
“How do you usually go without being caught?” I asked instead.
“Used to be able to slip away. Everyone knows I’m always in fur after work, and half the time I sleep out.” Jerking his head at the woods we stood beside. “Even once the lockdown lifts, I can’t go out now. Not with our sentries.”
“I’ll think of something…” What? A web of lies? “Zacharias will understand this is important—”
Jed snorted at the name and I stopped.
“What?”
“All that wolf understands are his own laws. You should stay away from him.”
“Stay away? He let us go to London, didn’t he?”
“What was he going to do? Fight you? Diana’s said to accommodate you. But you crossed a line yesterday and you should keep clear of him. I’d say his best weapon would be to turn the pack against you, but he didn’t need to. We did that for him by offering allegiance to a worm.”
“I don’t—” Shaking my head. “Zacharias hasn’t done anything to me. And is that what everyone was so upset about? We’re trying to save their lives.”
“Which reminder I’m sure will change his views if you try to talk us out of here one night.”
“We may just have to … go. If we can’t tell them you’ve seen kindred on the beach, taking off and explaining later might be—”
Jed recoiled even more from me. “I can’t.”
“I would vouch for you, Jed.”
“No, I can’t leave the territory without permission while on lockdown. Excuses later won’t make that up. If I did…” He stopped, looking away, his breathing suddenly fast—scared. “He didn’t do it this time because I’m only in trouble for singing. But, if I left, if there was any other infraction, Zacharias would put me in the cuff.” He squeezed the wool ball tightly between his hands.
“What … is the cuff?”
“A very thin, steel band with a lock.” He drew a finger along his throat. “Worn tight around the neck in skin. It makes it hard even to eat. In fur, our necks are a lot thicker.”
I stared at him, mouth dry, my own throat feeling tight. “Excuse me?”
He glanced at me.
“They would … make you wear that to keep you from changing? To kill you if you tried to change?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve had it on for months.”
“Months?” Horrified, I wanted to walk away from him, to stumble around and hold my own head, to weep. I still only stared.
What was true here? Who were these people, really?
Escape…?
From the xenophobic, anthrophobic, fascist, star-worshiping cult we’d been raised in.
Isaac’s kindness, Zar’s bookishness, Rebecca’s help and Atarah’s welcome.
Unbreakable laws, capital punishment, hitting someone with a bolas and locking them in a torturous device that could kill.
The food and help and graciousness for my efforts. The happy pups, the compassionate, communal living, the offer from Diana to put me in touch with others for free places to stay on my travels.
The fear, avoidance, and half their number or more having been deeply apposed to my even setting foot on their territory in the first place.
It’s strange, how we can meet someone from a certain group of people—a Frenchman, say, or a yoga teacher—and it’s terribly easy to then assume we know something about that sort of person. Not the individual, but what they represent.
Until the cat says good morning.
“What is it you wanted?” Jed was glaring again.
“What?”
“You wanted me to do something?”
He clearly hoped to break up the party: I’d made him so uncomfortable with my talk of casual rule-breaking that could land him in the cuff.
“Yes, I do.” I swallowed, remembering the original topic. “I’m sorry you’re grieving and angry and trying to deal with finding Gabriel like this. What I wished you’d do for me is, if you go to meet Gabriel, could you pretend he’s you? That you’re the brother left at home after he went to join the Beech Pack. He’s the stranger who had to get away from this life, who had to be his own wolf. You’d be shocked to find him living as a total wolf. Afraid for him. What if he was discovered? What about the young?
“All those things you would be thinking if you were the brother at home and you found him living that life. Just imagine, when you see him, that he’s you. Before you left the Beeches. There’s nothing you can do to talk him out of it, nothing you can do to step in and save him. Of course, you figured out that such a life wasn’t for you, that you didn’t agree with the Beeches, and you came home. Maybe Gabriel will one day also. Maybe he won’t. But that’s not for us to shape, or challenge, or even to criticize.
“Even if we don’t agree, even if we see things that we find difficult to bare, don’t they have a right to exist?”
Jed didn’t answer, studying the ball in his hands.
After a while, I added, “Think about it, please. His perspective being different doesn’t make him wrong, or less deserving of compassion.”
He rubbed his thumb over the wool.
“Jed?”
He looked at me.
“I won’t let them put that thing back on you.”
He blinked. “It’s not up to you.”
“As long as I’m here, you’re not wearing the cuff. I promise.”
Jed stood motionless and silent, only looking into my eyes as a couple of barn swallows zipped past.
“We’ll figure out something for getting to the beach and finding kindred, and I won’t tell them about you going there alone. But you have to trust me for us to work together.”
Finally, he nodded.
Chapter 35
I offered Jed my hand as I stepped away from the tree. “It’s dinnertime. Come back with me?”
Jed took it to walk me to the fence. “I still have to work.” Like he needed an excuse to be walking to the buildings.
“Okay. And I need time to think about our next moves. I’m waiting to hear from a translator, hopefully soon.”
He said nothing. Then, when we were nearly to the fence, “I’ve … wanted to see Canada.”
I glanced at him. “Have you ever traveled? That far, I mean? Airports?”
Jed shook his head, looking forward. It was like he was embarrassed to admit wanting to. Andrew had also stopped himself when I was sure he’d been about to tell of his dreams for visiting Australia.
“What’s wrong?” I stopped at the rails. “You obviously all have passports for visits closer to your own borders. Why don’t you go? It would be a cheap trip. Just the ticket, fly into Vancouver, rent a motorcycle, drive out into the mountains and stay for a few weeks for free.”
Jed looked down the road. “I never…” He glanced at my hand on his, then pulled away to climb the fence.
“You never what? Never flew?”
To my surprise, he offered his hand again for me to climb over, which I accepted. He didn’t answer.
“I have a flight to Seattle on August twenty-fourth. Should have been Portland, but it was cheap. If you’re concerned about tackling air travel alone, come with me. I’ll take you out to the Cascades. There are total wolves in the Pacific Northwest. Stay for a week or a month or whatever you want.”
Beside the fence in bright evening sun, Jed simply stared at me. I had no idea what that look was. It might have been shock. Might have been blank confusion. Might have been an explosion of different ideas. Or overwhelmed, reeling by the concept, or afraid of the worm travel part.
“Jed…?”
“There you are!”
I jumped.
Kage was striding toward us. “We have dinner for you.” He did not acknowledge Jed, yet his stiff posture and tone communicated all they needed to.<
br />
Jed growled. I could barely hear it, would have missed it if I’d been even a few steps away. A far away rumble in the back of his throat.
“Thank you, Kage, but I’m not especially hungry.”
Jed released my hand and walked up the road, fingers digging into the compressed wool ball.
Kage glared after him, then focused again on me. “We have plenty. And I was going to show you around.” Both his tone and expression remained savage as it had two nights ago after I’d said good night to Isaac. He made the invitation sound like a reprimand.
I wasn’t going down that road again. Not tonight. Yes, I owed him an apology, but it could wait while he rethought his approach, and I also wasn’t feeling twisted up like a pretzel.
“I’d like that,” I said. “Tomorrow. This is not—”
“What were you doing with vulture-face? They were saying he’d run off and changed. Then no, he was just in the field. You were out with him?”
Angry myself by then, I walked past him.
Kage kept pace with me. “You shouldn’t be running with him. Anyone would tell you that. I thought you knew as much.”
“Yes, people have told me. Thank you for your concern.” I turned up the first alley.
Kage stopped. “What about your dinner?”
I faced him. “What did I say?” Don’t start snapping back. This is exactly why you need a break before you should talk with each other.
“Have to eat something. Just some bread and cheese?”
“That’s okay. Thank you.” I walked to Atarah’s.
She was at the kitchen sink when I arrived and knocked before tentatively opening the door. She’d apparently just eaten her own dinner and was washing up.
“No need to knock, Cassia.” She smiled. “Come and go as you need. Has anyone fed you?”
“I’m fine. And I’m sorry. I just … want to lie down for a while. Not one of my most productive days.”
“Go ahead. I’m an introvert also.” She winked and returned to her washing while I headed for my room. Core must supply her meals. I was surprised she even had any dishes to wash.
Moonlight Heart: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 4) Page 22
