Shards of Hope (9781101605219)

by Singh, Nalini

  Rage was a selfish, covetous emotion that wanted to swallow her whole. Love, it appeared, spread outward. And still the twisted, deformed girl inside her, the one filled with rage, looked at that scene and cried. The tears were old and silent and hidden deep in the vault of her mind. Zaira hadn’t cried true tears since she was maybe three, but deep in that vault, the girl shaped by rage sometimes did so surreptitiously.

  Zaira tried to ignore her, but it was hard, her cries echoing in the silence in her head. Stomach tensing, causing her new skin to ache, she waited till Remi left the table before saying, “How can we teach Arrow children about love if we don’t understand it?”

  Aden’s eyes went to where Jojo was now sitting up in the lap of the boy who had the same eyes and skin as the little girl, her paws on the tabletop and her ears pricked as she listened to the conversation around her. The teenager had one hand on her back, steadying her, while with his other, he was spooning up cereal, his eyes turned in the direction of another boy with whom he was holding a conversation.

  “Look at her,” Aden said in that quiet tone that always brought people to attention. “She’s happy to be there though no one is currently paying her any particular attention.”

  Zaira saw what he meant. “She’s being touched by someone she trusts not to hurt her and she knows that should she need care, it will be given.” As Remi had so easily prepared that slice of toast for her.

  “Yes.” Aden touched his hand to her own back, as if he’d sensed the vicious wolves of aloneness biting at her. “We can give our children a safe haven where they never have to fear being hurt simply for being who they are.”

  Zaira thought again of that long-ago infirmary room and of the solemn boy who’d patched up her wounds. He’d been her safe place. And in giving her that, he’d given her a reason not to take unnecessary risks, not to get herself killed, and never, ever to give up the fight against the insanity that wanted to envelop her mind. “I can do that.” Her voice came out raw, the insane, angry girl nodding in silent agreement. “I can help make a safe place for Arrow children.”

  Aden’s lips brushed her ear as he leaned down to speak, the scent of his body in her every breath. “If you can do that, then you can be my partner.”

  Zaira wanted to say yes, but her wants could be deadly. It was because of want that she collected things that were Aden’s and kept them close, why she took those things out late at night and carefully looked through them one by one. “If you’d made me this offer when I was sixteen, I would’ve taken it.”

  Would’ve taken him.

  Always, she’d been jealous of the attention he gave others, had wanted him only and always for herself.

  “What’s changed?” Aden asked.

  “Now I understand that my obsessive desire to own you comes from the same dark place as my rage.” That truth was one it had taken her years to grapple with, to comprehend. “It’ll crush the life out of you.” Because if she broke discipline and took Aden’s hand, then all bets were off. She’d regress to the feral creature she’d once been, murderous and violent and so full of need that she would take and take and take and take.

  Because Zaira couldn’t walk the middle road: either she could be a disciplined, cold Arrow or she could be a savage, possessive, obsessive creature capable of any madness to get her own way. “I’d snap the neck of anyone who tried to get between us, anyone who dared take your attention from me,” she said, allowing him to see the sinuous darkness that lived in her. “I’d destroy you with my want and my need.”

  Chapter 18

  HIGH IN THE Sierra Nevada, where the snowpack hadn’t yet melted, SnowDancer alpha, Hawke, was stretching out into a run in his wolf form when Riaz ran up alongside him. The lieutenant was also in his animal form, his fur a rich black in contrast to Hawke’s silver-gold. Glancing over to meet the dark gold of Riaz’s eyes, Hawke asked a silent question, received a silent answer.

  Riaz needed to talk to him, but it wasn’t so urgent that Hawke couldn’t run.

  Satisfied his pack was well, Hawke flowed into the run across the still night-draped snow, dawn yet to come to these mountains. His wolf needed to stretch its muscles, needed to be free. He hadn’t sought out company, but now that Riaz was here, it was good. Pack was always welcome. The lieutenant was also fast enough that Hawke didn’t have to temper his pace, and they ran hard and smooth for miles before circling back toward the den.

  The wind rippled cold fingers through his fur, small creatures darted into hiding, the air scented with pine and the landscape endless. The morning sun was making the snow glitter by the time he and Riaz returned to the stone tunnels of their home, separating out to shift, shower, and dress before they met again just outside the den.

  Wolf happily tired, Hawke leaned up against the den wall and watched the cubs play in the area in front of the den. SnowDancer’s home base was at an elevation that meant there was still a good coating of snow on the ground, though given current conditions, it would be gone soon.

  It was because of the latter that the cubs had been allowed out of school as a special treat. All had clearly been too excited at the chance for one more snow play day to sleep in. Watched over by a number of adults, they were having great fun building snowmen. The ones in human form were bundled up and tasked with doing the delicate work paws couldn’t accomplish, while those in pup form gathered up snow and patted it into place.

  Hawke gave the postcard-peaceful, heartwarming scene approximately ten more minutes at best. His wolf’s jaw opened in a lupine laugh inside him—it knew as well as the human part of him that someone would give in to the temptation to throw a snowball at any minute and then the melee would begin.

  Scenting Riaz, he waited for the lieutenant to join him. “What did you want to discuss?”

  He frowned before Riaz could reply. “Is that a lipstick mark on your neck? How the fuck did you have time to find Adria, get a kiss, then get back here?” Hawke hadn’t seen Sienna since she’d gone out on patrol, and his wolf wasn’t happy.

  Giving him a smug smile, Riaz leaned on the den wall beside him. “I have priorities.” He ran a hand through his shower-dampened hair. “So, business—this morning, I received a message from a group of minor wolf packs we’re friendly with. They say the Human Alliance has been buying up land marked for expansion of their territories.”

  “Adjoining lands?” Packs did occasionally buy land parcels not immediately connected to their main territory. If that was the case, the Alliance might simply be making valid business decisions that happened to run up against the needs of the packs involved.

  Riaz’s nod took that possibility off the table. “The packs involved all had informal agreements in place with the landowners, but the Alliance came in with much higher bids.”

  “How long’s this been going on?”

  “Past month. The first pack thought it was an isolated—if asshole—move, but then they heard about it happening to another pack. Long story short, the alphas started talking and, so far, five have reported the same land grab.”

  Hawke scowled at what appeared to be a deliberate and calculated attempt to fence changeling packs in, stifling their natural growth. “Alliance trying to pick a fight?” Business was business, no matter how ruthless, but this felt more like passive aggression.

  “Sure looks like it.” Riaz chuckled as the first snowball was thrown and the peaceful scene erupted into laughing chaos. “The weird thing is that none of the land is of any use to the Alliance. Most of it is nowhere near a city or any of their business interests. Even if they intend to subdivide and sell it off, they won’t make back the ridiculous amounts they’ve paid.”

  Hawke’s instincts were starting to bristle. “You talk to Bo?” Riaz had a good line of communication with the Human Alliance security chief, who they all knew was the effective leader of the Alliance.

  “Not yet. Wanted to run this
by you first.”

  “Tell me your take on it.” Hawke’s lieutenants held that position for a reason; each was capable of independently making major decisions.

  “I think Bo’s smart enough to pick on smaller, weaker packs if he did want to initiate a fight, but I also think he’s too smart to waste his resources on a stupid game. Especially when the Alliance is finally starting to find its footing again after the mess created by their previous leadership.”

  Hawke agreed—but he also remembered Bo making a certain other stupid decision in changeling territory. His wolf didn’t yet trust the younger male not to make the same error a second time.

  “Make contact,” he told Riaz. “If the Alliance is trying to play ‘my dick is bigger,’ remind them those small packs have big friends.” SnowDancer might not be allied with these particular packs, but as the biggest pack in the country, it accepted a certain responsibility when it came to matters like this. “I’ll speak to Lucas, find out if this is isolated to wolf territories.”

  He had an answer within two hours—the DarkRiver alpha had just received a disturbingly similar report from a bewildered deer herd that had all but signed on the dotted line for some grazing land when the Alliance swooped in. A little further investigation and Luc discovered the Alliance was playing its money-wasting game across the country.

  “I’ve got confirmed reports from at least three nonpredatory packs,” the leopard alpha said over the comm, his face as grim as Hawke’s own mood and his green eyes more feline than human. “A small wildcat pack is currently attempting to get in touch with a landowner who was supposed to accept an offer today.” The other male’s voice held a low-level growl as he added, “He hasn’t called them back so I’m guessing that takes the tally up to four on my end.”

  Hawke’s claws pricked at his fingertips. “If Bo doesn’t have a fucking good explanation for this, I will personally rip his head from his body.”

  “Get in line, wolf.”

  • • •

  FAR from SnowDancer territory, an Arrow stood in the shadows of a building that fronted a shimmering white sand beach. Blake made sure to be out of sight of the cameras pointed at the crowd as investigators worked the scene of a gruesome stabbing that had taken place in the dark hours of early morning. His Arrow training stood him in good stead here—only the stupid got caught. He was a phantom.

  A phantom who’d bathed in blood.

  Part of him was concerned by his descent into bloodlust. His plan had been to follow the slender and aesthetically pleasing human male, incapacitate him silently and quickly, then transport his target to an abandoned factory where he could play with him as long as the male lasted.

  It was the target’s fault he’d lost control. The human had seen him and started to run—it was in the struggle to bring the male down that Blake had nicked him with the blade.

  The smell of blood had overwhelmed; he’d had to have more.

  Afterward, his shoulder and arm had hurt—still twinged now. He was also covered in blood, but the black of his uniform hid that, as his gloves had protected him from the man’s clawing hands as he fought for his survival. The target had never managed to reach Blake’s uncovered face.

  That face was now clean, wiped off. As for his bloodied uniform, he’d stashed a spare change of clothes at the factory. No one would ever know of the breakdown in his discipline. It had been an aberration in any case. He’d simply gone too long without exercising his natural urges.

  He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  Chapter 19

  ZAIRA PACED THE corridor outside the infirmary in an effort to reorder her increasingly disjointed discipline. An hour after breakfast and, with nothing but time on their hands, Aden had offered to teach a hand-to-hand combat class to a small group of RainFire soldiers, while Zaira had done the same for a group of older trainees.

  She’d been impressed by the teenagers. Though they laughed and spoke to one another far more than Arrow trainees, they also paid close attention and had a distinct advantage when it came to sheer physical coordination. Not that she couldn’t put each and every one on the ground, but she hadn’t had to—it turned out these predatory changelings didn’t make the mistake of judging her weak simply because she was small and female.

  The session had kept her from thinking about the aloneness, the silence inside her skull, but now her class was over and she couldn’t outrun the rage creature any longer. It slammed against the bars, fighting to get out, to take her over, to grab at what Aden was offering and hoard it greedily close.

  “Pony!”

  Stilling, she glanced over her shoulder to see Jojo running toward her. The little girl had to have come through the connecting stairs. She was now dressed in purple corduroy overalls over a white sweater. Someone had gathered up her hair into tiny pigtails all over her head and tied them off with different-colored ties. The care evidenced by the act, especially when Jojo could shift at any time and undo the work, fascinated the insane girl inside Zaira.

  No one had ever spent such time on her. No one ever spent such time on Arrow children. Zaira didn’t know if she had the patience for it, but if it would create children as happy and as stable as Jojo, children without psychic wounds that led them to become twisted within, she’d learn that patience.

  “Pony!” Jojo cried again when Zaira didn’t reply.

  “Zaira,” she reminded the cub as things deep inside her stretched and tried to wake. “My name is Zaira.”

  Stopping her headlong rush at Zaira’s feet, Jojo looked up with an intent expression on her face, her soft brown eyes unblinking. “Zai,” she said at last and gave a firm nod.

  “Zai-ra,” Zaira sounded out, because the child was intelligent enough to understand.

  Frowning, Jojo very slowly said, “Zai-ra,” then beamed. “Zai-ra.”

  “That’s correct.” Remembering how Remi had interacted with her, she added, “Well done.”

  A proud smile that created cracks in the walls that held back the murderous girl she’d been. That part of her wanted to come out, play with this small, trusting child. In front of her, that child pointed at herself. “Jojo.”

  “I know.” Distrustful of her crumbling shields, Zaira nodded at Jojo and began to pace again.

  The little girl followed, running on small legs beside her. “Zai, walk?”

  “Yes.” She slowed her speed slightly; even she knew that hurting a child’s self-confidence was not care. Her parents had told her she was stupid a lot. It hadn’t helped her become a better person—it had just made her rage bigger.

  “Why?” Jojo asked, thumbs hooked in the pockets of her overalls. “Why Zai walk?”

  “I’m not used to being inside this way.” Walls stifled her; even the windows weren’t helping anymore. The silence inside her head only multiplied the sense of suffocation, threatening to return her to the small room in which she’d gone insane as a child.

  “Grr.” Jojo hooked her hands in the air, releasing tiny claws.

  “Why are you growling?”

  Jojo retracted her claws, reached up to take Zaira’s hand. “Come.” She tugged. “Jojo show.”

  Not quite sure what the child was talking about, Zaira decided to follow her for the same reason that she’d lowered her speed. There was no reason to make Jojo feel as if her thoughts and views were without value. It wasn’t as if Zaira had any other pressing engagements.

  “Come, Zai.” Jojo walked excitedly, pulling at Zaira until they stepped onto the outside passageway that led to the dining aerie.

  “Wait,” Zaira said. “You don’t have a coat.”

  “Jojo, cat,” the little girl said. “Zai cold?”

  Realizing changelings must have an advantage in regulating their body temperature, Zaira said, “No, I’ll be fine.” She’d left Aden’s jacket in their aerie, but a short trek wouldn’t cause any
physical issues—she’d been thrown into freezing rooms as part of her Arrow training, had learned to bear it.

  Allowing Jojo to lead her along the walkway, Zaira was aware of other adult and juvenile changelings always nearby—not overtly watchful, but close enough to intervene if necessary. A number nodded hello as they passed, tugging at one of Jojo’s pigtails or brushing the backs of their hands against the little girl’s cheek.

  Touch, contact, she noted. Constant and normalized.

  Jojo would never feel alone, never feel like a forgotten piece of trash.

  The child took her into a connecting walkway, then another, until they scrambled down a rope ladder into a large open area that was nonetheless protected from the elements by clear plas shielding against which the unrelenting rain hit soundlessly. In comparison to the walkways, however, the temperature in the space was comfortable. That wasn’t the only surprise: the area was filled with climbing frames, complex rope ladders, a rock wall, and more.

  “See!” Jojo jumped up and down. “Zai play here!”

  Zaira looked down at the child who’d managed to make the connection between her need for freedom and a cat’s need for the same. “Thank you, Jojo.” Consciously copying what she’d seen the adult changelings do, she ran her knuckles gently over the delicate softness of Jojo’s cheek.

  The little girl leaned into her, unafraid. “Play?”

  “I would like to climb the wall over there.” If she was careful, it shouldn’t break open her healing skin.

  Jojo nodded and walked with her to the foot of the climbing wall that sloped in a faintly concave shape, making it more difficult to traverse.

  “Jojo, too small,” the little girl said. “Jojo play there.” She pointed to a colorful climbing frame that was clearly sized for children, complete with rope bridges and slides to the ground.

  Waiting until she was sure Jojo was capable on the frame, Zaira stepped up to the wall and took the first grip. Ten seconds after she began, she realized it was a much more difficult course than appeared at first glance. For someone with a shorter reach like Zaira, it was close to impossible.