by Kat Kinney
Guillermo Montemayor, leader of the Southern Territorial Council and possibly the most feared werewolf in North America, handed Brody what I was pretty sure was a two-thousand dollar bottle of scotch, then narrowed his eyes as if he wasn’t quite sure what the protocol was at gatherings where people ate off paper plates.
Brody cleared his throat. “You make it down without any trouble?”
Guillermo raised an eyebrow. “Thank you for the concern, but we’re quite capable of evading human law enforcement.”
Brody’s lips flattened into a thin line. An uneasy silence fell. He’d ordered the rest of the pack to stay home, not wanting a large gathering to draw unnecessary attention or put lives at risk—human or shapeshifter—when tensions were running high and Blood Moon was crawling with FBI agents.
“Uncle Rafe couldn’t make it?” August approached. “He promised us a rematch.”
“Rafael was needed back at the compound. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me this year.”
A third figure emerged from the caravan.
Sofia Montemayor-Caldwell wore a thousand masks. Mother. Wife. Assassin. Friend. Her dark hair was stylishly cut and blown out, falling to just below her collarbone. The white pantsuit and heels she had on looked new—and were probably concealing enough weapons to take down an entire SWAT team. Not that she’d need them.
There wasn’t a word for what Sofia and Guillermo Montemayor were, for the rare, powerful magic that swirled in their blood. Their parents’ mating had been arranged, the oldest son of the Montemayor house to a daughter of gifted Danish werewolves. Neural manipulators like River plucked at single threads of memory one at a time—a delicate, precise art with semi-permanent results. Sofia had once brought an entire field of vampires to their knees, holding them prisoner in the walls of their skulls while Tracers cut them down. While she held someone, she controlled their thoughts, everything they tasted, smelled, saw. Her manipulations weren’t permanent. They held as long as she actively willed the projection into your mind. But when you couldn’t separate a dream world from reality, seconds felt like an eternity. And the trauma that occurred there in her dream world, real or imagined was just as devastating.
There hadn’t been another shifter born with the Montemayor gift in a century, and no doubt Guillermo was disappointed it hadn’t been passed on to any of his sister’s sons.
“Mom!”
Brody crushed her in a hug, stepping back only when Dallas pushed in. Sofia cupped his face, barely getting a word in before August was picking her up and spinning her in a circle.
A knot formed in my stomach.
“Kinda feels like a party where you’re not invited, huh?” Hayden held a shaking Major by the collar. His tail was thrashing so hard it was getting tangled up in the plumbago, his attention darting between all the new people and the unmonitored table of food. Golden retriever heaven. “I’m thinking we go eat that cake. You game?”
“Try it, and I’ll cut you.”
“I’ll take off the top, carve a piece out of the middle. You’ll put it back together. No one will be the wiser.”
“I can’t take you anywhere.”
“You’re no fun.” A pause. “Uh oh. Incoming.”
I looked up. Sofia was striding across the yard.
My breath stilled, a sharp buzzing ringing in my ears. How was it possible all these years later that I still felt the instinctual urge to run to her side? That despite how wholly my human mind understood the effed-up nature of my time at the Caldwells, there was no erasing the bond I still felt towards her as my adoptive sire, or the wolf’s yearning for her approval? I dug my fingernails into my palms until the pain caused my vision to clear. Swaying in place, I blinked.
“—so happy you and my son are finally together. Ben would be, too.”
I froze. The wind gusted, swirling dust into my eyes. Black spots appeared at the edges of my vision. I gritted my teeth as Sofia turned from Hayden to me, willing my pulse to slow. I would not show weakness.
“Lacey. You get more beautiful every time I see you.”
Her eyes narrowed. I knew there was no way she’d missed Dallas’s scent on me. And even less chance she’d liked it.
August caught my eye. “Mom, any word on Dad?”
“There’s a lead I’m following up in Denver. A separatist group that may have information.”
And as everyone turned back towards the house, no one seeming to notice when I didn’t follow, it was suddenly hard to believe I hadn’t seen this coming from the start. They were family, united by bond and blood. And I was… what?
There were many forms of exile. A quarantine necessary for the safety of others. A son sent thousands of miles away in shame. Punishments meted out over the course of years, day by day, until breathing became unbearable under their weight. Some memories we cradled in cupped hands, savoring every sunbeam, first kiss and warm press of a palm in dread of the day they would inevitably spill like sand between our fingers. Others we found a way to heal from, facing down unspeakable nightmares worse than an army of the undead. But some memories were like tiny fragments of glass, so deeply imbedded they would never form scars. I’d fractured something that could never be made whole that night. And I would never stop paying for it.
* * *
Thor: You okay? I know I made fun of the whole cat cam idea as too Big Brother.
Thor: But I’m sure Fancy’s fine. We left her wet food and like three bowls of water.
Me: I didn’t want her to miss the first two and get dehydrated.
Thor: Our girl will be taking on Phelps in no time. So you gonna tell me what’s really bothering you?
Shutting down my screen, I turned my attention to the table.
“We traced Tuesday’s bombing to one of the covens based in Houston.” Guillermo swirled his scotch, the warm amber liquid seeming to glow in the light of hundreds of tiny tea candles. “We were able to recover almost a dozen shapeshifters being held prisoner in a makeshift lab, including the young woman dubbed Athena by the news media who was forced to release the video saying she was responsible for the explosion.”
“Who is she?” I asked.
“As she’s received a flood of death threats in the last forty-eight hours from the human and shifter community alike, at the moment her identity is being kept confidential. I’ve asked Calgary to coordinate with our team after they’ve been debriefed to find suitable trauma specialists to work with all the victims.”
I made a sound under my breath, wondering how much trauma the specialists would have to undo from the werewolf council’s methods.
“Any of them the human girls they were trafficking out of Austin?” Brody asked.
“Seven—all werewolves now.” Though she answered her son, I felt Sofia’s eyes on me from across the table. “Plus three males and one child.”
Dallas swore. “The vamps took a goddamn kid?”
“Born in captivity, we think. The mother isn’t talking. Calgary’s working on her.”
I turned to Guillermo. “You said last month that the vampires were trying to work up a genetic profile of the lycan virus. Could that be connected to whatever they drugged me with last week?”
“We don’t know. Our team of Tracers recovered a massive amount of information both from the lab and off the computers. It will take days, perhaps even weeks to catalog everything.”
“But they had males and females in the lab? Based on everything we knew before, it was only female shifters who were being targeted.”
Which wasn’t entirely true. They’d taken Topher. We’d gotten inconsistent intel on this from the start and the Council holding back wasn’t helping.
“For the moment, that information is classified.” Guillermo dipped his head. “I’ll tell you more if and when I can.”
Dallas took a swallow of beer. “Two undeads came into our territory, tried to abduct Lacey using some drug or infectious agent we know nothing about, and you don’t think it’s crucial we be let in
on this? And while we’re on the subject, why the hell didn’t Aleksandr get any warning before the attack two nights ago?”
Aleksandr was one of the oldest members of the Council, having been one of the humans originally infected with lycanthropy by wild wolves during the Yukon Gold Rush.
“Seers don’t have a crystal ball into the future. They get specific visions that like with any gift are tied to the cycle of the moon. Aleksandr has been invaluable to us in thwarting raids and covert operations we otherwise wouldn’t have uncovered. Countless lives have been saved because of his visions, which unfortunately, only come a few days every month, and only when he’s in wolf form. The vampires are, of course, aware of our limitations and plan major strikes when we may not have adequate warning.”
“What can you tell us?” Dallas cut in.
Guillermo considered his answer. “Given the level of sophistication and the timing… almost certainly we’re looking at an operation coordinated between multiple covens.”
River’s eyes flicked to mine across the table. No one mentioned the mole. I had no doubt August had brought River up to speed. But with someone on the Council potentially leaking information to the undead, sharing suspicions, even with Guillermo, was a risk. My thoughts drifted to Ben. Abducted on an empty stretch of road. With no trace of his whereabouts after almost a year and a half.
“We have a public relations problem,” Guillermo continued. “The last forty-eight hours have seen footage of bombings, terrorist threats, and roadblocks being erected with no-refusal blood draws. All of it being broadcast across mainstream media. Before, humans were aware we existed, but other than a few grainy images, werewolves were something of an unknown. All that has irrevocably changed.”
“Your average person makes no distinction between werewolves and vampires,” Brody said flatly. “Not when we’re talking major events like this. We’re all something to be exterminated. Monsters. Other. We have to counter that messaging. And fast.”
“You’re talking about going public,” I said. “Outing us for real this time.”
“We’re going to be exposed,” Cal said on speaker. “It’s only a matter of time. This is our chance to control how the story breaks.”
“So how do you see that playing out exactly?” Dallas asked. “In stages? A tell-all interview on one of the networks?”
“Fuck, no.” River lowered his head.
“It would be safer to leak it slowly,” I said.
“How?”
“If we’re going to shift public perception, we have to give this a human face. Shifters with families. Everyday community members—cops, teachers, baristas.” I let my gaze travel around the table. Brody nodded. West looked resigned. Ethan, as usual, was impossible to read. “But before we take that step, we’re going to need allies who will flood social media, go to the news stations, raise absolute hell at the idea of us being annihilated.”
August tossed a bottlecap at the trash. “Not following. Sorry, Lace.”
Dallas shot me a WTF look. He knew where I was going with this. I felt the breath squeezed from my lungs, heart thundering in my chest.
“We allow Bittens from human families to tell their loved ones the truth. And we send the Tracers in to release their memories.”
Silence fell. Guillermo laced his elegant fingers. It wasn’t the first time he and I had engaged in this particular conversation, though admittedly, I’d never tried this angle. Challenging the most powerful werewolf in North America when he’d already told you no (twice)? Epic level crazy. But I was out of options. My mom’s attacks were spiraling out of control. I wouldn’t rest until I found a way to save her.
“Say we did this,” he said at last. “You do realize that once the government learned their identities, they would become the ultimate bargaining chips? Is that a price you’re willing to pay?”
Dallas met my eyes from across the table. He was keeping strangely silent.
“We keep things under wraps until enough families have been told. Half the shifter population in North America is made up of Bittens—”
“Yeah. Picture the epic freak out when they put that statistic on daytime TV,” River cut in.
“—and we all come from human families. There’s strength in numbers. We use that to protect them and us. The reality is that once we’re exposed, they won’t be safe anyway. Might as well have them on our side.”
Sofia said, “And you really believe someone in the human world won’t leak this the moment they know the truth? I’m sorry, but I think that’s a naïve take.”
My vision blurred as the wolf threatened to rip from my skin.
River spoke up. “The vamps aren’t the only ones with blood on their hands. Tracers have to deal with shit every day no one at this table wants to see. You’re all happy going about your safe, civilian lives. And that’s fine. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. But things in the real world are ugly and you’re hiding your heads in the sand if you think there aren’t going to be horror stories.”
“Fuck you, River,” Hayden spat.
He ignored her. “No matter how closely Alphas monitor their packs, no matter how many weeks I go without sleep, we all know that every full moon, the very worst of our kind skulks from the shadows to seek out victims. And all those people are going to want to talk to the media, too.”
“So let them talk,” Cal said. “The truth should come out. Even if that comes at a cost. Who are we as human beings if we condone the silencing of victims?”
“We aren’t human,” River countered.
“Yes. We are.”
Cal drove an hour every day to an inpatient facility where he worked as a psychiatrist, treating patients who’d suffered unspeakable traumas. Then he subcontracted for the pack and the Council treating shifters after hours and on the weekends. Had Cal been present the night Tracers came for my mother, I felt certain he would have stood in front of the door.
“Enough,” said Sofia. “Both of you.”
The table fell silent. Turning to River, Sofia said something quietly in Spanish that I couldn’t make out. His jaw hardened. After a beat, Sofia picked up the cell phone that was our link to Cal and excused herself.
River said, “Your mother’s case is complex for several reasons. She’s of above average intelligence, which makes her less likely to dismiss breakthrough memories and suspicions as coincidence. The event was highly personal, involving you rather than just an attack she happened to witness. Lastly, it was intensely traumatic—”
“I disappeared,” I whispered.
“Yes.” River’s gaze grew distant. “In ninety-seven percent of cases where an experienced Tracer performs the rewrite, there are few, if any lasting side effects.”
Hayden leaned across the table. “Really? Because I can tell you right now my sister’s been having nightmares.”
“I know.”
Her expression darkened. “You know how, exactly?”
“I kept my distance, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Hayden bared her teeth. “Stay out of my sister’s head. If you screw with her—”
Ethan slid an arm around her shoulders, fingers slipping into the collar of her jacket to caress her throat. “Watch it, River,” he growled.
“In Ellie’s case, the first two conditions are the same. But she was given the choice by Guillermo to be turned or have her memories of us erased. She made her own decision. That’s the difference. It’s only been a month. With time, the nightmares should fade.”
“Why do you even work for them?” Hayden bit out. “It’s like you get off on being a soulless monster.”
River gave away few tells. I’d once asked Dallas how he got the terrible scar that traced the length of his jaw. Apparently, no one knew. Now he stared back at Hayden, eyes cold. “The block on Ellie’s memories is holding. She believes a medication she was formerly taking caused her to hallucinate the events of the last several months. She retains the original memories to an extent, but they
feel like vivid, terrible dreams.”
“Way to dodge the question for $100, Alex.”
River smirked.
Hayden rose, dragging Ethan with her. “Ellie could still remember?”
“She won’t. I’m very good at what I do.”
Hayden turned, nearly to the door. “There’s nothing good about what you do. And stay away from my sister.”
7
Dallas
AN HOUR AFTER SUNSET, my brothers and I put on black tactical gear and drove out to the north side of the ranch for our yearly post-Thanksgiving laser tag extravaganza. It was rematch time and the Caldwell cup was up for grabs, all of us gunning for the neon-orange water gun Dad had nailed to a sawed off two-by-four when River complained one year there was no trophy. Pretty sure it had been River’s water gun, too. That’s what you got in our house for asking questions.
So maybe full contact laser tag was a little more extreme than sitting down to watch football while gorging ourselves with pumpkin pie. But hey. Just how we rolled, y’all.
“Paintball would have been way more fun,” I said.
“No.” Brody tapped something into his phone.
“Capture the flag.”
“One, Lacey can’t shift. Whatever the vamps hit her with still isn’t out of her system.”
“So she plays human.”
“Two,” my brother continued, pointedly ignoring me. “Like we need some government drone flying overhead to get footage of a two-hundred pound white wolf belly-flopping into the swimming hole.”
I flipped him off. Because, once. That happened once. And I’d been wasted.
“So for the fifth time. Your sensors have been programmed. Ten hits and you’re out. You get a two life bar bonus for eliminating another competitor. Oh, and before I forget, soft contact only.” West shot me and Ethan a meaningful look. “As moderator, I have the ability to disqualify people at my discretion.”
I raised my hand like we were back in grade school and immediately scored two high-fives and the patented West Caldwell glare that had freshmen everywhere begging for a schedule change. Okay, not actually. My brother had in fact been nominated for teacher of the year twice. But no way was I telling him he was awesome when he wasn’t in hard-core hall monitor mode.
