by E. A. Copen
“I respectfully decline.” When Sal spoke, his voice sounded rough and his eyes pulsed with a golden glow.
One side of Valentino’s mouth kicked up into a satisfied smirk. “Good,” he said. “It’s about time you and me saw eye-to-eye on something.”
And then he bared his teeth and leapt across the pit with a feral growl.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The rain came down in heavy sheets, wind sweeping it along at an angle. Water cascaded down over the side of the pit in miniature waterfalls where the dirt had been piled unevenly. Aside from the snarls and growls of challenge down in the pit, the gentle rolling thunder and falling rain were the only sounds.
Valentino’s initial charge stopped short in the same mocking way Istaqua had done with me. Sal didn’t take the bait. He stood ready and waiting, balancing on the balls of his bare feet and keeping his hands high. The way the two hung back made me think they’d sparred before.
Valentino ventured forward again but didn’t fall back this time. He threw a wide body punch with his left, but it didn’t have a lot of power behind it. Sal dodged aside and into Valentino’s right as it came out for a liver shot. It connected, but with reduced force since Sal twisted away. He caught Valentino’s retreating left arm above the elbow from the outside and jerked forward with bone popping force. Valentino stumbled forward, off balance, but didn’t fall, more worried about staying upright than the hammer fist that came down on his back. The strike made Valentino’s shoulders tense and roll back, throwing his chest out to try and recoup the air that Sal had just knocked out of him. Sal tried for a kick to the back of the knee, but Valentino dropped into a forward roll to get out of the way, turning back around in the blink of an eye. He remained down in a runner’s crouch, ready to spring up. Now on opposite sides of the arena again, the two paused to reassess.
That short exchange had still been on the verge of friendly sparring. Even the hardest punch wasn’t full force. Valentino came out to test the water and Sal obliged, but it had cost him. He still wasn’t in full control of the wolf. The wolf wanted the fight more than it wanted to strategize and bide his time for Valentino to wear himself out. Sal’s eyes glowed and his face twisted. He shook his head as if to clear his vision and flexed his fingers. If he shifted, he might gain claws and teeth, but do it at the wrong moment, and he would leave himself vulnerable. This was a fight he couldn’t win by drawing it out and letting Valentino exhaust himself. The wolf wasn’t going to let him.
Sal moved forward. Valentino showed teeth and sank his hand down into the muddy bottom of the pit. He looked like he was bracing himself for Sal’s charge. When Sal came another step closer, Valentino flung his hand up and hit Sal in the face with a handful of coarse, wet dirt. Sal flinched but the mud still struck him in the eyes, across the mouth, and nose. Every sense suddenly flooded with pain or dulled by the smell and taste of mud, he was helpless when Valentino sprang up and barreled into him in a dead run. Valentino’s shoulder drove into Sal’s stomach—or would have if Sal hadn’t shifted. Instead, Valentino sailed over Sal. Sal, now in wolf form, threw his whole weight into the front of Valentino’s knees, knocking him down.
“That’s a dirty trick,” Nina muttered next to me. I looked up at her stone face, crossed arms, and glowing eyes.
It wasn’t as dirty as what Valentino had pulled. It also wasn’t a secret that Sal could shift without the same troubles that would have plagued Valentino. For most werewolves, the Change takes ten to fifteen minutes of agony as they shed skin, teeth, and nails to grow into the wolf beast. It was a slightly different process for each of them, but Sal could do it in a flash. That didn’t come without its downside. He’d still been wearing a pair of sweats when he changed and struggled to get out of them.
Valentino got up first and snarled, scratching hard at his left hand. The skin tore away and his features shifted, arms growing into legs, nose and mouth becoming a snout. Sal didn’t let him finish in peace. Once he was free of the restrictive clothing, he charged Valentino and jumped. Sal’s fangs sank into Valentino’s half-changed arm and Valentino responded by swinging his arm wide. The move slammed Sal into the side of the pit, but Sal still held tight until Valentino resorted to kicking and biting back. Sal let go but snarled and jumped right back on him.
By that time, Valentino had almost finished his change, somehow shifting faster than normal. Just the finer features of his fingers and toes were left to shift. They came into place as Sal latched onto the scruff of Valentino’s neck. Valentino bucked and rose onto his hind legs in an attempt to throw Sal off, but Sal moved and bit down on the side of Valentino’s neck.
Beside me, Nina drew in a sharp breath and I tensed. If he moved only a few more inches one way, Sal could easily close his jaws around Valentino’s windpipe and tear his throat out, bringing the fight to a quick and bloody end.
He didn’t. Instead, he jerked his head to the side and shifted all his weight behind that one move. Valentino had no choice. He either had to move with Sal’s jaws or let Sal break his neck. Sal didn’t just keep tugging him along, though. He lifted one paw and flipped Valentino onto his side and then let him go. Sal pawed and nudged at him again, teeth bared, until Valentino rolled onto his back. It was a forced gesture of submission, Sal’s way of saying, “I win. Surrender.”
Valentino didn’t accept it. He kicked at Sal with his back legs, but Sal just barked and growled fiercely, resting his teeth lightly over Valentino’s windpipe. Both were very still for a moment before Valentino did the impossible.
He shifted back into his human form with all the expediency that Sal had used to go from wolf to man. Judging by his face, it hurt. A lot. But the change made Sal lose his grip on Valentino and gave Valentino a momentary upper hand because of Sal’s confusion. Valentino kicked under Sal, landing a hard knee into the wolf’s ribcage. There was a yip of pain and Sal staggered away.
Valentino sprang to his feet. Blood dripped down from a good scratch in his neck and his right arm was mangled where Sal had bitten him during the Change. Apparently, they didn’t heal so well when such injuries were inflicted in transition. Or maybe that was the magick of the circle.
Either way, the blood loss, or maybe the sudden Change left Valentino dazed and swaying on his feet. His eyes were unfocused, and his breathing fast and labored. Though Valentino had gotten away for the moment, he was no match for the big, gray-white wolf that was Sal, and now Sal was angry. I saw the change in his eyes, the red, angry glow of rage. Valentino had tricked him, made him look like a fool, and then hurt him. Now, bleeding as he was, it triggered predatory instincts. Valentino ceased to be a member of the pack, and instead, became wounded prey.
Sal leapt after Valentino, teeth bared, and aimed for Valentino’s throat in a killing pose. A shock of black fur blurred through the air and shot down into the pit, sending a vibration of electric current through the magick barrier of the circle as it passed through. The skinny black wolf landed on top of Valentino, knocking him over and splayed across his neck and torso protectively. Ed had jumped down to break up the fight because he’d seen what I had.
Sal came down to the ground hard, sending a splash of rainwater up all around. He snarled at Ed. Ed gave a submissive whine, and turned his head to the side, stretching out his neck. Shauna, who had shifted back into human form during the fight, dropped into the pit on the other side, drawing Sal’s glare and another snarl.
“Valentino,” she said in a small voice not befitting her and dropping her gaze away from Sal’s. “Will you submit?”
Valentino could barely answer. He blinked the rain out of his eyes. “Sí. Me rindo,” he managed after a long, tension-filled pause. Then he sat up, forcing Ed to stand, though Ed kept his head low and tail tucked. “I concede,” Valentino repeated in English and lowered his head.
Sal stepped forward and growled low in Valentino’s face. The sound vibrated in my chest. Then, he looked up at the crowd gathered around the pit, backed up two steps, leapt
up over the ledge, and out of the circle with ease. He turned to look at Nina, mouth turned up and vibrating with a sound I couldn’t hear. She immediately dropped to one knee and lowered her head.
Sal threw his head back and howled loud and long in a tone that hurt my ears. Down in the pit, Shauna took it up next, somehow able to match the sound even with her human vocal chords. Ed, Daphne, and even little Leo answered with Leo’s small voice ringing high. Nina and Valentino were the last, and next to Sal, the loudest voices of all. Then, one by one, the rest of the people gathered dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. Some of them looked around with nervous eyes, and I didn’t understand why until I realized that I, too, was kneeling in the mud. The compulsion had been so strong that I didn’t even notice it.
Istaqua alone remained standing, a grimace fixed on his face. Sal didn’t pay him any attention. He was busy reveling in his victory.
After another series of howls, Sal waited while everyone climbed back up out of the pit. Someone had to put the board ramp back down for Ed, who now walked with an even more pronounced limp.
Valentino came, tugging on his pants, and keeping his head low. He didn’t look anyone in the eye, but he didn’t look angry or upset either. I thought he looked relieved. Nina scrambled to pick up Leo and go to her husband. She checked his neck, the scratches and tears on his chest, and then frowned at the torn flesh of his arm. It was already healing but blood still seeped from it. Valentino acted like it didn’t even hurt. He put his one good arm behind Nina’s head and pulled her to him for a kiss on the forehead. Tears welled and she leaned into her husband, sobbing softly. Whether it was for his loss or hers, I wasn’t sure.
“Congratulations on your win.” Istaqua’s sly voice cut the celebrations short.
Sal turned his head and let out another rumbling growl.
Istaqua’s mismatched eyes wrinkled in the corners. “Oh, it will take more than that to prostrate me, young wolf. But that’s for another time. Now, we have another issue to settle.” He placed his foot on the back of the prisoner on the right. The man whimpered and bowed forward under the weight. “These,” Istaqua continued, “need dealing with. Now that your politics are sorted, I would see it sooner rather than later. While both the club and your pack were wronged, the pack bore the brunt of the damage. They’re both yours if you want them.”
Sal rose and stepped toward the prisoners, that same killing glint in his eye. Istaqua betrayed a small victory smile.
I fought the bonds of the strange compulsory magick that held me kneeling on the ground. It was a subtle magick, less like a weight holding me down and more like a heaviness in my own body. As soon as I began to rise, both Istaqua and Sal turned to regard me with cold eyes.
“Interesting,” Istaqua said with a smirk.
“Don’t, Sal,” I said, still fighting the magick. “If you kill those men, you’re no better than they are.”
“They deserve it,” Istaqua snapped back.
“They murdered my father,” Nina said suddenly beside me. She showed her teeth and offered a deep snarl of her own that made my teeth vibrate. “For that, they deserve no mercy.”
Whatever compulsion spell Sal had worked lost its grip and people all over began to stand. Bran’s hand came down lightly on my shoulder. “Judah Black, I respect your desire for the state’s justice. However, do we not all know these men are above that? Will not your organization or theirs protect them for no other reason than that they are human and we are not?”
“No,” I said shaking my head. “It’s not like that. Don’t you realize how much worse this is going to make things? If you kill these men, it’s going to bring BSI down on you. It’s going to start a war.”
“There is already a war,” Istaqua answered.
Sal looked pleadingly at me and then back at Istaqua. If Istaqua ordered him to kill those men, would he have to obey? Sal might have been the alpha of the pack now, but he was still a subordinate to Istaqua when it came to the Kings’ structure. What would happen if he refused?
“It has always been us versus them, me versus you,” Istaqua continued. He stepped out in front of his two prisoners. Sal growled at him when he jerked his shirt up, and I saw he had a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. Several other werewolves around me growled, equally as unhappy to see the weapon. “Even in a perfect world, say you arrest them and find evidence for a conviction. These men will accept a plea deal.” He gestured to them with the gun. “The justice system is broken. BSI is broken. You must see it. Why do you hide your son so if it isn’t true?”
He came closer and flashed his teeth at me. Coyote teeth. His hand reached out and touched my cheek. Sal growled and snarled at him, but the sound was lost in the shock of magick that hit me.
I found myself back in the Dairy Queen parking lot with fire burning all through my body. I tried to suck in a mouthful of air but couldn’t manage more than a pained gasp. Blood spilled up and out of my mouth in red, foamy bubbles, and I sank back to my knees.
Do you feel it? Istaqua asked in my head. He was still standing before me but as a blurry outline now instead of a solid man. The pain in your body. That is what silver feels like to us. That is what these men did to your son. The pain intensified, crawling up to grip my heart. It felt solid, choking, squeezing until my heart could barely beat. Your son did not yet have a full link to his alpha but even that fringe link would have been enough. He felt it just as the rest of the pack did. They felt him die. More than that, they experienced it. They felt his fear, his pain, the last stuttering beat of his heart.
Even though I didn’t think it was possible, the pain intensified. Then more voices sounded in my head, familiar voices. Pack voices.
This is her fault, Nina’s voice said in my head. My father is dead because he stepped in to protect Hunter.
This is why we didn’t want him in, Valentino’s voice said. And for her to butt the hell out. She’s the whole reason Sal’s so fucked up. Fuck, doesn’t she even see what she’s done? We were happy before she showed up.
The least she could do is let us clean up the mess. Shauna.
Doesn’t she even care about Hunter? Why isn’t she angry? Is she so numb to death that Chanter’s doesn’t even register? Daphne wondered.
Even Ed agreed. Everything she protects winds up hurt. Just look at what happened to Mara and to me.
I hugged my arms tight across my chest and fought the pain. “What is this?”
A gift, Istaqua said in my head. You want so badly to be a part of this world, horse girl. This is the world of the pack. It is a singular mind made of many. To be part of it is to know things, even the things you do not wish to.
A fire lit in my chest as Sal’s voice filled my head, not with words but the sounds of frustrated anguish. He was in pain and there was nothing I could do to make it better. Murdering these two men felt right. Cathartic. Blood had broken him. Blood would put him right. They deserved it. He had vowed to give the woman and boy protection and to protect and serve his alpha. He had failed. His responsibility. His failure. He had to make it right.
Istaqua squatted down in front of me, the gun dangling from his hand. “Are you angry with me? Would you kill me with it to save these men?” I turned my head away. “You see? You’re no better than us. It’s human nature. Do you believe that apes stood on two legs to reach the trees? No. You stood so that you could hunt better, kill faster, mate better. Your species crawled out of the world of beasts to survive. Now, you are complacent and lazy. You eat food made in laboratories and fuck lying on your backs as if everything should come to you, as if all the hardships of your ancestors means nothing. Your kind lives and dies in darkness, wallowing in your self-created misery. You have forgotten who and what you are. You look in the mirror and see a face that is not your own. You think you are a warrior, girl? A warrior does not lie down and let her enemies dictate justice. He does not let his enemies run to brag about what they have done because those enemies return and in great
er numbers than ever before. Are you a woman, Judah, or are you a warrior? You cannot be both. Today, you decide.”
Istaqua placed the gun on the ground in front of me. I stared at it. It was the same model I carried. Was this my gun? Where had I left it last? The last time I saw it... Was it before the house was torn apart? It must have been. I hadn’t been wearing it when I went to Tindall’s election party. I hadn’t even known it was gone to report it was missing.
His lips spread into a grin. “Did I steal your gun? Perhaps. Easy to do when you’re willing to let anyone walk into your home, just because you’re too much of a coward to face the mess yourself. But these men stole everything from you. They took your home, your friend. Tried to take your son. Make no mistake. They will die here today. It’s only a question of who will pull the trigger.”
“I won’t,” I stammered.
Istaqua’s grin faded and became a sneer. “Either you or Sal will kill these men, or I will kill one of you for being a coward and do it myself.” He snorted, rose, and said, “I’ll give you a minute to decide.” He turned his back on me.
I snatched up the gun and scrambled to my feet, pointing it at the back of Istaqua’s head. Pressure built in my chest with every breath. “Turn around!” I shouted. “And keep your hands where I can see them!”
Istaqua gave a singular chuckle. “There it is,” he said. “There is that warrior spirit. Now, if only you would point that gun where it belongs.” He turned around and pointed at the two men kneeling in the gathering mud. The parking lot full of bloody people had gone and we had returned to Chanter’s back yard. “Kill them or kill me. Pull that trigger. Where is your fighting spirit now? Why do you just stand there like a fool?”
My hand shook. Istaqua deserved a bullet for the way he had jerked Sal around, the way he spat on Chanter’s sacrifice, the way he treated me. He deserved to die because I knew what sort of person he was: a criminal, a liar, a cold-blooded killer. Every muscle in my being knew that if I didn’t kill him right now, these other men would die. More people would die. Istaqua’s nature was divisive, combative. He’d bring the whole county into a bloody war if I left him unchecked. If I shot him, how was I better? If I pulled that trigger, it would be because I hated him. It would be the wrong reason. I would kill Istaqua for the same reason the Vanguard had killed Chanter, and the same reason he was about to kill those men. He deserved it, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
