by Lola Gabriel
Eric pawed the grass and snow. He didn’t want to fight either of them.
From his position, Rowan couldn’t see too much of what was going on elsewhere, but it was beginning to look bad for everyone. Usually, he could tell bear from bear with ease. Now, everyone was a blur, and the noise… the noise was horrible. Gnashing and ripping and the sound of two species of animals in pain. More than Arlan’s bites hurt—it hurt Rowan that he’d led his pack into this. Rowan himself had led his pack into this, and right now, lying in the snow, trying to fend off this wolf, he couldn’t see a way to get them out of it, and his mate was locked in a small room under a church.
Arlan got a particularly rough claw in, and Rowan’s vision blurred momentarily. He was almost sure, though, that a medium-sized bear, a bear who looked a lot like Eve, had peeled off from the melee. That she had just disappeared into the forest, heading in the direction of Anchorage.
He wasn’t sure what she was doing, or even if it had really been Eve, or even if he’d really seen it. But he had his suspicions, and if he was right, he was more scared than ever. However, it might be the only thing that could help at this point.
20
Holly
There were no windows, and Holly’s phone had run out of battery a while ago. This safe haven felt an awful lot like a jail cell. There were books and a camp bed and water and food—like in jail.
Holly wasn’t mad, but she wasn’t pleased, or even okay. She wanted to be a part of things. Eve was a part of things. Granted, Eve’s child was outside of her body and being looked after by a grandparent…
Holly tried reading, but she skipped from book to book. This was why waiting rooms had magazines, she decided; because when waiting, concentration was impossible. Articles about celebrities affairs and bad Oscars dresses would have been the exact right amount of diverting.
She hoped so hard that Rowan would be able to get her father alone and be the Rowan she had seen up on that stage: the surprise Rowan, the Rowan that had made her fall, if possible, more in love with him. He had his moments of decisiveness, she knew that, but he’d commanded that room, as sweaty as his palms had been afterwards. And he’d made her feel better after she’d been assaulted with animal blood. The thought made her want to heave. Rowan, though, had just held her. This had all been so quick, it had been hard to register how wonderful it was.
After… Well, Holly actually had no idea how much time had passed. Her phone was alive for six hours, and after that, who knew. She was lying on the cot and staring at the ceiling. Her hand drifted to her still mostly flat stomach, the slight rise that could be a large meal but was probably a plum-sized mix of her and Rowan. She closed her eyes eventually, once she’d traced every crack and line in the ceiling plaster.
Sleep didn’t seem like it would come. Holly was imagining horrible things. There was a battle behind her eyes worse than anything that could be happening outside. It had been snowing earlier—if it settled, it would be blood red. She saw everyone she loved dying. She saw Rowan die in a hundred different ways, ripped to shreds by her coward brother. She saw her father knocked down by heavy paws and Eve lying alone, bleeding. In the end, her visions must have become dreams. These were worse: psychedelic and ever shifting, like fever dreams. Faces morphed from friend to enemy in seconds. And there was a terrible banging…
It took her a while to come around, to realize the banging was real, a smashing on the door above her, in the church. Holly could hear claws, the heavy thump of a body that couldn’t be human. She began to remove her clothes and then gave up, and she began the shift before she remembered that she had the key to the second door. So then, she was just standing in her bra and tights. And the animal was downstairs. It was heavy, breathing raggedly. It must be a bear. And the bears were all, or mostly, friends, right?
Holly took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second, and wished she had someone to pray to. Then she turned the key.
She was light-colored and still and panting. It worked both ways, the recognition. There were many kinds of soulmates, and friendship could be almost as powerful as romantic love.
“Eve?” Holly asked.
Eve shifted quickly, almost falling over when she was back on her human feet. She was naked, cold, and Holly handed her a blanket.
“Xander’s hurt, and they’re all over Rowan,” Eve panted. “I don’t… I don’t know if he wanted me to come, but your brother and his friends seem to be taking things into their own hands. I think you need to at least come and… I don’t know what’s happening.”
Holly nodded. She was still half naked.
“Let’s go,” she said. “Lead the way.”
The run wasn’t short, even in animal form. They made fast work of the city, slipping a little on the icy concrete that was not made for paws and taking corners too sharply. Eve wasn’t as fast as Holly was, but she didn’t want to leave her behind. The whole way, Holly was worrying about a circle of people: Rowan, her father, Xander, even her stupid brother.
The streets were deserted, which was a good thing, or they would have terrified humans and probably been hit by several cars. But as it was, every shifter was either inside seething, inside worrying, or out fighting. The humans were inside because it was particularly cold for that time of the year.
They had to get through the forest, and Holly’s eyes were better at night than Eve’s. The animal part of Holly wanted to nip at Eve, encourage speed, but she didn’t. She patiently led her through the clearest path, dodging fallen trees and brambles that she knew Eve probably barely saw. Or maybe she had ignored them in her haste on the way. Either way, she was covered in knicks and scratches. And then, the forest opened up, and they were there. And it was horrible.
Maybe it was just the snow, but the dark shapes of the fighters were like photographs in negative, and every spot of blood was visible. Holly stopped in her tracks. Eve turned, walked to her, and licked her briefly. She pushed her nose into her friend’s fur. This was all she could do to console her, and Holly appreciated it.
Holly shook herself, carried on, and followed her friend. She wanted to retreat into being all wolf, but she knew she needed to see this. All of it. It was carnage. Wolves and bears were on each other everywhere, fighting tooth and claw. Everyone was injured. She wanted so badly to retreat.
Suddenly, she saw them: her brother—who, in his wolf form, looked so much like her, only a little larger—was on top of Rowan, who was trying to hold him off rather than to hurt him, just pushing him off, getting his forelegs and paws bitten by Arlan’s incisors; and her father, who was the biggest wolf she’d ever seen, was nipping at Arlan, trying to stop him.
Holly ran to them. She tried to nose her way in, to make herself noticed, to no avail. Finally, she shifted. In a few bounds, Eve had brought her a blanket to wrap herself in, but her human form had already shocked the three into looking at her. Rowan shifted first, rose from the snow, and embraced her. His breath was so warm in her ear in the brutal cold as he muttered things. She barely listened.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he mumbled. “Are you okay? I meant to come…”
Holly wasn’t taking her eyes off her brother and father. Both of them shifted, and both had coverings brought to them, but they looked ridiculous wrapped in blankets.
“What the hell,” Holly snarled through gritted teeth, half from anger, half from cold, “is this?”
Eric stepped forward. “You want to be here?”
“Yes, Dad,” she answered. “Of course I do.”
“You know what this does to me? To us?”
“Yeah. But I’m spoiled goods now, anyway. Why not marry him off?” She pointed to Arlan, who was still covered in blood, even in human form. Eric glanced at him.
“He’s married,” he said. “And the heir.”
“Right,” Holly replied. “Well, I’m imprinted and carrying an heir. Sorry. I’m off the table. Find another bargaining chip, Dad.”
Eric’s shoulders sank. “I’m trying
to keep us afloat, Holly. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Because you never told me anything! You thought Arlan could handle it, but not me? Have you met him?”
Eric glanced at his son, who was trying to wipe off his face.
“It’s just our way,” he told her. “It’s how it goes.”
Rowan stepped forward, in between father and daughter.
“Look,” he began. “Eric, do you have the power to stop this? Because my people are getting hurt, and so are yours. If talking is an option… are you in charge?”
“Today, I am.” Eric squared his bearded jaw. “We can talk.”
“Dad,” Holly said, “thank you.” Eric almost met her eyes. She walked closer and took his hand. “Dad,” she repeated. “Thank you!”
“It’s okay,” her father said. “Your brother exaggerated.”
As everyone shifted, the battlefield looked better. Everything but deeply internal wounds mostly healed with the shift. There were only a few bodies and an equal number of still-bleeding people. Rowan sent someone to alert the local coven, the Aetherias, who could take care of every shifter still breathing.
Both sides had bundles of blankets and clothes to wrap up in, or they’d get hypothermia in minutes. Eyes were blurry. More than a few minutes in animal form left some of them animal.
“What do you want, Dad?” Holly demanded. She was shivering, and Rowan wrapped an arm around her.
“I want a lot of things,” her dad said.
Holly laughed. “You’ve never expressed that before.”
Rowan looked at her, then at Eric.
“If you need allies,” he told him, “there are a lot of us. Some need convincing. Looks like your son needs convincing, too. But we have people, jobs, skills, resources, connections with the witches… There’s no need for us to hate one another.”
Eric almost stepped backward. Holly was shocked; at both of them, really—at both the alliance offer and her dad’s aversion.
“Dad,” she urged him, “come and talk. Not in a freezing field, maybe?”
Eric waited a while to answer. Finally, he nodded.
“Okay.” He shouted for someone Holly had never heard of—notably, she thought, not Arlan—and gave him instructions. “We’ll meet you in an hour. We have injured pack members to tend to,” Eric said.
“So do we.” Rowan said coldly. “The town hall. I’m sure your spies know where it is.”
Glancing back, Holly was horrified to see Eve bent over a bleeding, unconscious Xander. She took Rowan by the arm.
“Xander looks bad,” Holly murmured. She felt Rowan tense up. She squeezed his arm where she had it, though she had no idea whether or not it would be okay. “I’m going to—” Rowan nodded before Holly had finished speaking. She sprinted through the snow, her bare feet turning purple and blood beginning to smudge them. When she reached Eve, she bent down. “Is he…?”
“He’s breathing,” Eve said. “It’s shallow. He can’t die. He can’t die, can he?” She looked up at Holly.
“No,” Holly said. “He won’t. He’s strong. Help will be here soon, okay? Just stay with him, keep talking to him.” She ran to get more blankets for Eve, pulling on clothes herself and a pair of too-big shoes. She wasn’t at all sure what she was saying to Eve was true. She took some of the blankets to push down on Xander’s biggest wound, and as she did so, he started shifting. That wasn’t a good sign.
Eve was crying hysterically. She lay in the snow behind him, a hand on his cheek.
“Eve!” Holly cried. “You’ll freeze! Eve, please!”
Xander’s eyelids were flickering. He was definitely still alive. With the gash in his neck, he could hardly talk, but he managed Eve’s name, and his hand moved slowly to her.
“You’re so cold,” she muttered. “You’re so cold, baby.”
Holly thought she should look away. This wasn’t her moment. But she was still applying pressure. She looked off into the distance. It was so cold her tears were freezing on her face. Both Eve and Xander would die of hypothermia if—
They were. The coven arrived in a warm orange light that was the opposite of the light of the warlocks Holly was used to. They set to work efficiently and immediately. There was no pomp or circumstance. The warlocks were all beards and lofty announcements and intricately carved staffs. These women were acting like field nurses.
Almost immediately, a witch with curly red hair and a strangely cheerful face was with them.
“Get up dear,” she said to Eve. “Can’t have you both needing my magic.”
Eve looked up, having to blink to focus on anything but Xander. She did what the witch said. She stumbled as she stood.
“I’ve got him,” the witch assured her. “I’ve got him.” She gently moved Holly’s hands, which were drenched with blood, from Xander’s neck. Then the witch started talking to herself, muttering about this spell and that, and Xander’s eyes were closed again, but his chest was still moving up and down, just barely.
Rowan took Holly by the elbow. She jumped.
“Sorry!” he said. “We have to go.” He walked over to Eve and embraced her. “He’ll be okay,” he said quietly. “They’re looking after him now. Go and put some clothes on, okay? Warm up?”
Eve looked at him blearily, then she nodded. The three of them walked to the edge of the clearing, where someone hustled Eve into clothes and handed her a steaming mug. Rowan and Holly went to a waiting car, and inside it, Holly leaned against him.
“Is he going to be okay?” she asked. Rowan stroked the side of her face.
“They’re really good, the witches. But… I don’t know.”
They were silent for the rest of the ride into town.
21
Rowan
This day had already been a test for Rowan: his first, and hopefully only, battle, and now an attempt to reach some kind of an agreement with his mate’s pack.
They met in the room the council usually met in, and the council, of course, were in attendance, though Rowan wasn’t sure half of them even knew what was going on. Hopefully, some of them would die soon, and he’d be able to appoint new members. Then again, that was a harsh thought. He shook it out of his head.
There was the pack’s crest on the wall—a paw print said to be that of the founder, Eldrick, and three snowflakes, each one different, as all snowflakes are.
Eric had brought two advisors. Rowan had the council, Valleria, the head of the local coven, and Holly. He would have had Eve and Xander, but they were out of commision. It felt like they had been talking for hours, though it had probably been about forty-five minutes of back and forth. Everyone was, obviously, exhausted. Irritable.
“We’re adjacent to three packs who won’t be happy with this,” Eric was saying. “What are we supposed to do about that?”
Holly shrugged. “Move, Dad, you’re a rural pack.”
The younger man to the right of Eric scoffed. “Move? You really have given up on your own people, haven’t you? We’ve been there for generations. We’re the first-bitten. You are. You’d do well to remember that.”
“What can we give you?” Rowan sighed. “Can we make a trade agreement?”
Alec, one of the ancient council members, slapped a hand on the table.
“Valleria,” he said in a shaky voice. “Don’t the first-bitten have all those… those plants and what-not?”
“The ancient herbs?” Valleria asked. “Yes. They’re almost impossible to find up here.” She was a beautiful woman; dark hair with a grey streak in it, red lips, and shocking blue eyes. “Tell me, Eric,” she said, “have your warlocks got any better at distilling them, or are they still using packing and poltices?” She spat out the word ‘warlocks’ as though it were dirty.
Holly’s father grumbled a little.
“Well,” he said, “they do just fine… They cure most ailments.”
“Most?” Valleria scoffed and looked at Rowan. “How good are we, Rowan, even with scarcely half th
e ancient herbs at our disposal?” Valleria made Rowan nervous. She always had, ever since he was a child.
“You’re good,” he said. He looked at Eric. “They’ll cure everyone on that battlefield who was still breathing when they got there.” He so, so hoped this was true. Eric and his men looked at one another, disbelieving. “You give us the herbs, we distill them, keep half, return half for your warlocks.”
Eric leaned forward. “The warlocks won’t like it.”
Valleria rolled her eyes. “They’ll make a fuss, and then they’ll take it. They need all the help they can get.”
One of Eric’s advisors whispered something in his ear. This was ridiculous, Rowan thought. Was this even diplomacy?
Eric nodded. “Prove it. Take us to that boy, Rowan and Holly’s friend. Show us how he’s doing.”
Okay, this was a pretty canny move from Eric. Perhaps Holly’s father was more formidable than he seemed.
Valleria tossed her hair—a signature move. “Come with me.”
Knocking on Xander and Eve’s door, Rowan’s heart was trying to slam its way out of his diaphragm. There were so many of them, and what if…?
But Eve answered and threw her arms around him. She didn’t even ask about the huge group of people behind him. Her face was puffy from crying. After she’d embraced Rowan, she moved on to Holly.
“Thank you,” she muttered into her friend’s hair. “So much.” And then she led them inside, up the stairs to the master bedroom.
Xander was pale, with purple bags under his eyes. There was some kind of a bandage over his neck, but it was fluctuating in color, looking almost like pulses of electricity. The cheerful ginger witch was bustling about.
“No, no, no,” she said, “why are there so many…?” Then she saw Valleria. She cleared her throat. “Come right in,” she greeted them. “Though really, I thought the baby was a step too far.”
Xander smiled at Rowan and Holly. He was shirtless, with the sheets pulled halfway up him. In his arms, Chloe was kicking her legs, sucking on a brightly-colored teething toy.
