by C V Leigh
Tess blinked and nodded. “Yes, Alistair.” She went back to scouring the files. The Cuban heels of Alistair’s boots clicked against the wooden floor, quietening as he put some distance between them. She heard muffled voices when he spoke to Jacob from somewhere deeper in the house.
The sound of an engine starting was followed by wheels crunching over gravel. The wrought iron gates creaked open. She glanced up at the CCTV screens and watched Nicholas pull out of the driveway in the Mercedes-Benz–not a car suited for the Highlands in the winter, but one that would have to do until Derek arrived with the children and the Land Rover.
In a few weeks, the weather would draw in and change from wind and rain to snow and ice. Roads would close. The nearest towns would be inaccessible. Tall poles already stood on the verges, showing the depths of previous winters’ snowfall and creating a visible edge to the road.
Isolation came with its pros and cons. Those born into the Kincaid family understood they needed to live away from prying eyes. Locals would say it was the antisocial behaviour of the four brothers, mixed with drunks seeing Highland cattle or large dogs that sparked the rumours of wolfmen roaming the lands. For Tess, though, being so far from civilisation simply meant being trapped.
A cry came from the cellar. A shudder fell down her spine, tickling each bony nodule. She wasn’t trapped, though. She was free to walk around the house, explore the grounds, go for a run. And when all this was over, she’d be free to return to Edinburgh. Megan, however, would be haunted by her past for the rest of her life. Forever trapped.
She checked the files again, looking for anything she might have missed. She grabbed a pen and began to scrawl shorthand notes in the margins, circling names and places that looked as though they might be relevant. She fired up the computer and opened the screen that allowed her to log into the American Council’s system.
The phone rang, making her jump. She picked it up. “Hello?”
“Tess?” Derek’s voice broke through the crackles.
“Oh, Derek. Hi. Everything okay?”
“Yes. We’ve just landed at the airport. The boys are collecting the bags. I didn’t want them to hear me.” He paused.
“You’ll be on your way here soon, right?”
“Yes. I’m planning to stick to the main roads for as long as I can, so should be with you around six.”
“Okay. I’ll let Alistair know. How are they?”
“Fine. They don’t know anything. They think we’re just coming home for the holidays a bit early. I think both of them were glad to get away from there, to be honest.”
“I can imagine.” She couldn’t, though. She didn’t know what Little Wickham’s was like and could only go by the stories told to her by Zane and his brothers. They all had different views. Alistair had loved his time there, as had Zane. Jacob and Derek seemed to have an opposing opinion.
“How is she?” Derek asked.
“Megan? Tired.” The computer screen blinked. She hovered her fingers over the keyboard, then, with a deep breath, started her search. Her hands trembled with every tap as she entered the Council of American Paranormal Activity’s system. “Zane’s with her.”
“And how are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Is Jacob behaving?”
She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “He… He and Zane—”
“Say no more. I’ll be home soon and will put those boys in their place. Nobody upsets my little sister.”
She smiled. They might not be biologically related, but that Derek saw her as more than just his little brother’s girlfriend meant a lot to her. He was possibly the only Kincaid brother who did. She knew he also appreciated the fact she used his given name and not the childish nickname the rest of the family used.
“Thank you. It’ll be good to have some backup.”
“I’ll see you soon.” He hung up.
The screen flickered, and she was in. Skills she thought she would never need to tell Zane about were being utilised by his brother. She hated the secrets between them.
She stroked her thumb. They’d made the decision years ago to never get married or have children, although it was more her decision than his. The scars were enough. She was bound to him by blood. She didn’t need a piece of paper or diamonds. Yet he still didn’t know her. Not really.
Zane was so unlike his brothers it was a wonder they were related at all. He was an open book, warm and caring, with so much love to give and very little mystery about him. He might be immature at times, but she found it endearing.
She looked up in time to see Jacob stalk past the open door before turning back to the screen. She clicked on the icons one at a time, going through each one until she came across something odd; a file labelled ‘KINCAID.’ It wasn’t what she’d been looking for, but curiosity got the better of her. She opened the file, and photographs of the four Kincaid brothers and their uncle appeared on the screen.
Tess frowned. It wasn’t unusual for other councils to track the various packs. At Sanguis Luna Law, her computer was filled with files on families throughout the world. But they were copies of IDs, addresses, family trees… Not security footage. Not layouts of their homes. Not pictures that looked as though they’d been taken from behind trees or inside coffee shops.
There were even photos of her. One of her dressed in a pretty summer playsuit, strolling down Oxford Street when she and Zane had taken a trip to London. One of her in Starbucks, sipping a latte from an oversized porcelain mug, laughing with Zane. Shopping bags piled at her feet. One with Megan and the children, playing in the park, when they’d travelled to Edinburgh. She remembered that day–Alistair had had a meeting in the city, and Megan and the boys had joined him. She’d taken them to see the castle, and they’d spent the afternoon picnicking in the park.
Bile rose in her throat. Nausea and the urge to vomit swept over her. She opened the top drawer of the desk and took out a USB stick, then plugged it into the machine and downloaded all the information she could. After pulling it out of the port, she tucked the stick into her bra and closed down the incriminating files, her heart racing.
Someone was watching them.
Chapter Thirteen
Derek Kincaid leaned out of the car window and punched in the gate’s code, cursing when the light flashed red. Alistair had changed it again. He understood his brother’s paranoia, but sometimes it was infuriating, especially when he altered things without telling anyone.
He pressed the call button for the office and glared up at the security camera atop the stone pillar. He gestured at it, assuming someone would be watching. In the rear-view mirror, he could see his nephews were fast asleep, heads resting at awkward angles against the dark-grey seatbelts. A rare smile crept across his lips, disappearing as quickly as it had arrived.
“Sorry, Drake,” came Jacob’s voice from the shadows of the house. He raced down the driveway and opened the gates manually. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the car’s headlights.
“Let me guess. Megan had another episode?” Derek growled, knowing his sister-in-law’s unstable behaviour was the root cause of Alistair’s latest obsession with security. He eyed his twin brother.
Jacob nodded, his eyebrows furrowed into a knot at the top of his nose. Moving to the side, he let the old, beaten-up Land Rover pass before locking the gate.
Derek drove slowly up the drive towards the impressive house they were supposed to call home. He pulled up alongside the front door and got out. He opened the back doors and reached in to unclick the boys’ belt buckles. Jacob caught up with them.
“Take Michael,” Derek said, scooping his youngest nephew into his arms. He walked up to the front door that had been left ajar and pushed it wider with the toe of his boot.
“You’re home,” Alistair greeted tiredly, then placed a tender kiss on his youngest son’s forehead.”
Derek moved past his brother into the lounge, with Jacob close behind. He lay Ben on the sofa
and smoothed his floppy, ash-brown hair. Jacob placed Michael on the chaise longue opposite. They looked so innocent in their soft slumber, oblivious to the tension between their father and uncle. Of course, that would change as soon as they woke. They were no more innocent than any of the adults at Faol Hall. The difference was they had yet to experience the full nature of being a lycanthrope. Derek could only hope they had more discipline than their mother.
“How is Megan?” he asked Alistair.
“Settled. She’s in the cellar with Zane. Sedated.”
“How much damage did she do this time?” He moved towards the door.
“Nothing that can’t be fixed.”
“Is she anything to do with what’s going on in town?” He shot a look over his shoulder, not slowing in his step as he made his way through the hall and kitchen to the basement door. “We stopped for fuel and supplies in Taedmorden. I had a great conversation with a guy about the wolves of Faol Hall.”
Alistair caught up with him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. “Nicholas has dealt with it.”
“Where is Uncle Nick?”
“In the study. Tess found some files on the American Council’s system that might be able to provide us with some answers.”
“You had Tess hack into CAPA? Are you insane?”
Alistair stepped closer. “Don’t forget who the Alpha is in this pack.”
“No. Of course not.” He slipped out of his brother’s way, not wanting to test his patience, and opened the door to the cellar. The sound of Ben’s sleepy voice caused him to falter in his step.
“Daddy?”
“Hey,” Alistair cooed, walking over and lifting his young son into his arms. “Miss me? I missed you. Wow! You’ve grown at least an inch. How old are you now? Fifteen?”
“I’m six!” He giggled. “Where’s Mummy?”
“Asleep. She’s had a long day. Is Michael awake?”
“He’s snoring.” Ben pulled a face.
“Why don’t you go and wake him? Uncle Drake is about to make some of his famous hot chocolate.”
“Daddy, I’m not four, y’know.”
“Humour me.”
“He’s right,” Derek said, closing the cellar door. He watched Ben wander back towards the lounge. “And neither is Michael. He’ll be thirteen soon. Have you got everything prepared?”
“I’ve had other things on my mind. I was hoping to get whatever is going on with Megan under control first.”
“You might not have much choice.”
“Don’t you think I’m aware of that?”
“I know she’s their mother, but—”
“Don’t you dare. She’s not just their mother. She’s my wife.”
“I’ve got your back. And I love her too. You know that. But if she puts this family in danger—”
“She is part of this family.”
“Would you like me to take over Michael’s training?” Derek offered, moving away from the cellar door and heading to the kitchen cabinets. He began to hunt for cocoa powder and pans.
“No. I’m his father. It’s up to me.”
“Alistair, you have enough to deal with right now. Let me take some of the strain. I was planning on holding a training session with the others as well. If Nathan Trevell is back, we all need to make sure we’re up to scratch. It won’t do us any harm. And what is it they say? ‘It takes a village’? Delegation is not a sign of weakness.”
Michael entered the kitchen, blinking sleepily.
“I’m going to check on Tess and Jacob. We’ll speak in the morning.” Alistair turned and left the room, ruffling the hair of his oldest son as he walked past.
Derek smiled as his nephew climbed onto a stool at the breakfast bar. “Good sleep?”
Michael nodded. He leaned his elbows on the granite surface, then shifted his position, turning away when his little brother appeared and climbed up next to him.
Derek poured milk into a pan and brought it to the hob. They all shot a glance at the cellar door when a strange sound crept from underneath it. It creaked open, revealing Zane.
“Uncle Zane!” Ben hopped from his seat and ran to embrace him.
“That smells like hot chocolate,” Zane said, closing the door. He patted his nephew’s back, then accompanied him to the breakfast bar, where they both took a seat.
“Want some?” Derek asked, adding the cocoa powder to the pan and stirring it with a wooden spoon.
“No, thanks. Where’s Alistair?”
“Sorting out all this mess, I should think,” he said, turning his back on the trio. He shared the hot chocolate between two mugs and passed them to the children. “Why don’t you take it into the lounge? I need to chat with Uncle Zane.”
Zane stiffened. “I should go back to,” he paused and glanced at the boys, “my work. Just thought I’d come and say hi.”
Michael and Ben slid off their stools and carried their mugs out of the kitchen. Zane stood, then crossed to the cellar door and opened it.
“I’ll join you.” Derek fell into step behind his brother. They made their way down the creaking steps and into the gloomy space. “Fuck…”
Megan lay on a makeshift bed which was bolted to the concrete floor and surrounded by iron bars. She huddled under a woollen blanket, shivering and crying.
“What the fuck… I didn’t know she was this bad. If I had, I’d have come home earlier.”
“I had to give her some of my special brew.” Zane walked to a chair and sat down, then picked up a magazine and flicked through the pages. He kicked his feet onto the nearby table. “She should be fine, but it’ll take a couple of days.”
“How’s Tess now?”
“Pissed off that Jacob keeps barking orders like he’s the fucking Alpha.”
“She’s pissed off, or you are?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. “You two need your heads smacking together. I’m assuming that’s his work.” He gestured to Zane’s cut eyebrow, and the shadowed bruise spreading towards his cheekbone.
“Don’t you start. You’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like a child.”
“Fair enough. I’ll keep out of the way, but do me a favour and don’t drag her into it. She didn’t ask for any of this.”
“And you think I did?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” He stifled a yawn. “Look, I’m knackered. I’m going to bed. You okay here?”
“Yeah, dandy.”
“If you need anything—”
“I can get it myself. I’m a big boy now,” he said mockingly and raised his middle finger.
Derek laughed and left his brother to it, eager to get some rest.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Megan stood under the rushing warm water, her head tilted to the ceiling, her eyes firmly closed. She traced her hands down her throat, over the curve of her breasts and to the flat of her stomach. She paused for a moment. Zane had mentioned a pregnancy test, an idea Alistair had dismissed. Her period wasn’t due for another week—or at least she didn’t think it was. She’d lost track of time, with black spots staining her memory, so she could be wrong. Was it possible?
She retrieved the shower gel, squeezed some into the palm of her hand, rubbed it across her skin and revelled in the delicate floral scent that washed over her body, sweeping away the stench of dried blood and sweat. Self-inflicted scratches still marked her chest and legs. Yellow and purple bruises flowered on her thighs and the insides of her arms where Zane had pushed needles through her skin.
“Nearly finished?” The sound of Zane’s voice cut through the steady stream of water. Her pulse slowed. She twisted the taps and pushed open the cubicle doors. He waited for her, a towel held open, just as Jacob had a few days earlier. Or had it been a week? It could have been hours. Any sense of privacy had long been driven out with her desire to rip open their throats. But then, nudity was par for the course–they had all seen each other naked when they transformed.
“Thank you.”
She stepped out and allowed him to wrap her in soft cotton. “How are the children?” She’d been told Drake had arrived with Ben and Michael, but Alistair hadn’t allowed her to see them yet. Apparently, they were tired and needed to rest—a pitiful excuse. It hurt more than she could describe being considered a danger to her own offspring. Like a dull blade shoved into her chest.
They didn’t trust her around her own babies.
“They’re confused,” he admitted. Zane had never been able to keep secrets from her. A teenager when they’d first met, he’d seen her as a big sister and a confidante. She was his protector, defending him when Jacob callously teased him. She was his ear when he opened up and wanted to talk about the deaths of his parents, and about how he blamed himself for his mother.
She’d died during Zane’s birth. During his more turbulent years, Zane confessed he thought it was her death that later killed their father.
Malcolm Kincaid had always been cold with his youngest son. Zane confided in Megan that he believed his father was disappointed in him because he’d chosen science over the family business. Megan had held him all night long, hushing him, smoothing his hair, telling him how proud he made her.
A portrait of the enigmatic Malcolm Kincaid hung in the entrance hall, looking down over the family, ever the true Alpha. Each time she looked at it she saw Alistair’s icy-blue eyes staring back at her, saw Jacob’s strong muscles, Derek’s cool, calm exterior, but very little of Zane. It was easy to understand why he felt left out; a loner in a pack of wolves.
“And Alistair?”
“H-he went for a run,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
“Why are you lying to me?”
“I’m not.” He handed her a smaller towel, and she used it to dry her hair. When she was done, he asked, “How are you?”
“Better. What did you give me?” She rubbed at the freshest marks in the crook of her elbow.
He shrugged. “A new recipe. A special homebrewed cocktail. Made just for you.”
Megan moved to the bedroom. “Homebrews are always the strongest.”
