by Aila Cline
He had not asked a question. No, instead he had guessed my intentions, saving me the pain of begging or colluding. I just nodded. I wanted to see what he offered before I said anymore.
Ranier had fought many battles, both as a Lycanthrope in the modern world and as the leader of the southern Clan. To have survived this long in such a brutal world, he was not without a certain amount of cunning.
Finally, he offered. “The Mexican Clan will not take such an insult likely. It is possible that there will be a great rift between our houses if we retrieve Luka’s child from Maria’s protection. I am led to believe that she took the child to protect him, as you are not in a state of being fit to be a mother.
“No, do not speak. I am merely relaying her words sent to me. I cannot give you what you want, which is blood and revenge. I can see the pain in your face that she has caused you and the wounds on your body. No doubt she will kill you next time. Even though those things are out of my control, I can, however, bring my grandson home to his rightful family. To stay.”
I glared at him now. “He is my child.”
“He is a Lycanthrope child. A pure blood. He will stay with his Clan. Otherwise, I cannot help you.”
The thought of Micah being sprinted from one werewolf house to another sat heavily on me. “How do you know I’m not lying to you?”
Ranier smiled, all his teeth suddenly on display, giving him a feral expression I recoiled from. “Because if you do lie to me, sweet Emily, I will personally eat your intestines while you writhe in agony. Not even the affections of my son will save you.”
I did not allow the image to shake me. “I want them all dead,” I demanded.
He frowned, a very calculating frown. “I cannot wipe out an entire compound. I will not endanger members of this house for one child. However, I will send several members of my own Blood to procure this child.”
I was suddenly shaking away the image of one of his Blood who had attempted to turn me into a vampire—anathema to any true Lycanthrope, worse than dead. Vermin. That evil-eyed man forced himself into me and spread my blood all over a bed before Will burst in and saved my life with the Change. I knew what Ranier’s Blood could and would do at the command of their leader.
I grimaced, and he definitely noticed. “Then I want as many of them dead as possible. They’re helping the Lycanti spread.”
“I do not need you to educate me on the movements of the Lycanti,” he replied snippily. “I assure you that we have the West Coast pack in a firm grip. Maria’s fingers are nowhere on that grip, though she thinks they are.”
I filed away that piece of information for later use. It could have upset my plans for Josh and his pack if left unknown.
“You will lead the men and women who fight for your son,” Ranier said promptly after divulging that information. “Luka will not go. He has other matters to attend here.”
Once again, indecision overtook me. “I don’t feel comfortable going with a bunch of strangers.”
That savage smile flashed once more. “But Emily, dear, do you not realize? It matters not with whom you travel, for they will all know that you go to retrieve my grandson. I implicitly trust every single one of my Blood.”
In the dead silence that followed, I heard Which means I do not trust you, young lady.
“And if I am killed?” I asked.
He shrugged noncommittally. “An unfortunate tragedy. The child will live with his father as intended.”
So Micah would be safe, no matter what. If I lived, then I could eventually steal him away from the Clan. If I died, well, Luka may respect me enough not to test Micah’s DNA and raise him as his own anyway. I hoped like hell that Maria had not thought to verify Micah as her Blooded grandson. Of course, perhaps Ranier never intended me to make it back from this trip. Surrounded by his Blood, hundreds of miles from anyone loyal to me, I could end up dead in the acrid Mexican sands. However, nothing in this life comes without risk, especially revenge.
I stretched out my arm, the stitches straining against the agonized skin and reminding me of the blaze of tangled emotions I felt when Luka’s fingers played with the skin above my ribs.
“You have a deal.”
Shasta
Ugh, all I can remember is running that first time. Rachel decided that she would hold Emily to her promise, so what did she do? She moved Emily into an apartment with her. It didn’t matter that Emily was going to have a baby; Rachel really got behind Emily’s plans. She figured the only way to keep her safe from the Lycanthrope and the Lycanti was to keep her as close to the Children of Dacre as she possibly could. Delilah and I stayed in the house, maintaining it and getting on with our lives.
Contrary to popular belief, we hold jobs just fine, thank you. Delilah is a massage therapist and Rachel is a freelance interior design expert. I, however, am not so glamorous. I bartend three nights a week at a small hole in the wall downtown. Someone has to pay the bills. I mean, come on. We live in South California. It’s hard to look out of place or abnormal here. That’s why when Emily blew up that first time, I didn’t know if this was going to work. It was the middle of the day on a Tuesday, the day that nothing cool ever really happens. I was over for lunch. Emily let me eat fairly quickly, then we all sat around just enjoying the silence. I played on my iPad while Rachel and Emily focused on the cable.
Rachel changed the channel from some singing competition show that Emily always watched.
“I was watching that,” Emily said instantly.
“You have a TV in your room,” Rachel pointed out.
“And I choose to watch TV in here today,” Emily said through clenched teeth. “To be sociable.”
Rachel just looked at her as if the word didn’t exist in our vocabulary. It had been a bumpy three weeks trying to establish that none of the Children of Dacre—Delilah, Rachel, or me at least—would kill Emily, and in turn, Emily would pay us the same courtesy. So far, all of us were alive.
Rachel replied clearly, “My television. My rules.”
Emily jumped up from the couch quicker than I would have thought possible for a woman in her second trimester. She stuck an accusing finger in Rachel’s face. “I have been trying to be nice to you people for weeks, and you’re going to be a bitch about this? Really?”
Rachel’s brown eyes showed no emotion. “No one ever asked you to be nice. We’re partners in the same crime.”
Emily stomped her feet and put her hands on her hips in the ultimate picture of brattiness. Her irritable glance included me, but I looked away. I really am just an observer. Even when she tries to get me to talk about Luka, I avoid the subject.
“What the hell is you people’s problem?” Emily yelled. “Why are you such cold bitches?”
Rachel stood slowly, as if rising from a bath. “We never asked you to be our friend. You are not a Child of Dacre.”
Emily growled deep in her chest and I winced. So far, she hadn’t gotten violent, even though she warned us that she was prone to them. Something about the curse of the Lycanti, she said.
Rachel took a step towards Emily. “You have got to calm down, Emily.”
Finally, Emily snapped. “Calm down? You and your fucking dead friends move me in here where you could kill me anytime and you want me to calm down?” Emily shoved Rachel so hard that Rachel fell back into her seat. I jumped up, unsure of what I planned on doing exactly. Rachel was back on her feet before Emily’s next outburst.
“Don’t come near me,” she snarled. “Just don’t fucking come near me.”
And then she let out a yap much like a dog in pain. Without any magical smoke or hoo-doo voodoo, she Changed right before us, yipping and growling as she almost instantaneously morphed into a black wolf that came up to my waist! Not half wolf, not hairy man beast—full wolf, one bigger than I had ever seen! Her green eyes looked like they were the ones that wanted to eat me.
I looked at Rachel. “Rai?”
Rachel’s calm voice helped. “Move slowly towards
the door, Shaz.”
I reluctantly put my lead foot forward, earning myself an instant reprimand from the beast Emily had become. She snapped at my leg and I wrenched it back just as quickly.
“Jesus, Rai, what do I do?”
Rachel leaned forward and basically bitch-slapped Emily on her snout. Her great beast head shook itself to clear.
“Run, Shaz. Just run!” Rachel commanded as Emily’s hard, muscled body slammed into her and the two tumbled onto the carpet.
I stood there completely frozen in fear. I’m not good in situations like this, ever. Luka always took care of all the scary crap, even when I was going to become like him he gave me some pills to help numb the pain and calm me down. So now, in another life or death situation, I watched as Emily’s wolf teeth snapped at Rachel’s face. Rachel’s hand kept flying up to block her face, which meant that time after time I heard the crunch of bones as Emily bit down.
Blood poured from Rachel’s wrist and hand, channeling itself in little rivers down her arms. I watched like an idiot for what seemed like hours with Emily’s growls and the sounds of tearing flesh filling my ears. Finally, something clicked on in my brain and I rushed forward. I jumped onto Emily’s back and started yelling at her.
“Stop it, Emily, stop! We want to help you. Stop!”
I must have repeated this chant at least half a dozen times, my fists pounding into her sleek shoulder blades, before she turned her attention to me, shivering one good time like she was shaking water out of her coat and throwing me back. I stumbled but didn’t fall, which was good because I threw my own hands in front of my face like Rachel had before she caught my throat in her mouth!
I remember screaming when she sank her teeth into my leg. God, why couldn’t I be strong like Rachel and not scream? I shook my leg with a vengeance, trying to knock loose the demon that had attached itself to me, but she wouldn’t budge. I batted at her head, too overwhelmed by the pain to be making a difference. Emily began to shake me like a rag doll, knocking me against the coffee table. I scattered all Rachel’s knick knacks and magazines.
I heard Rachel shouting in the background, “Emily! Hey, you dumb bitch! Emily!”
The Lycanti girl finally turned, and when she did, she got a face full of ground up pepper! Emily’s yelp of pain was pain in itself to listen to, but when I looked down at my leg and all I could see was mangled meat through the rips in the jeans, I could only wish that Rachel had thrown acid on that damn mutt!
As Emily pawed at her nose and eyes, Rachel grabbed me by the arm and yanked me up. I cried out but she hissed, “Deal with the pain. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Dragging my useless leg behind me, I followed Rachel as she tugged me towards the door and slammed it behind her. We both stopped for a minute and took deep breaths, listening to the anguished yapping inside the apartment. I could feel the flesh inside my pants start to knit, oh God way too slowly, and the burning sensation it brought with it made me lean against the wall for support. Rachel cradled her arm. The bleeding had slowed, but now I could see that the deep bite marks, some to the bone, which marred Rachel’s marble skin.
She looked at me with her steadfast gaze. “This never happened.”
I stared at her blankly. “What the hell do you mean it never happened? God, Rai, look at your arm. Look at my leg!” I gestured towards our immobile limbs.
“Look at me,” Rachel said harshly. I forced myself to. “When we go before Lenora, don’t you dare tell her about any of this.”
I blinked. “You still want to take her to Lenora?”
“Yes.”
“Are you fucking crazy? She’ll kill us!”
Rachel took a deep breath, as if she were mentally preparing herself to explain everything to me. “We can’t go on like this. The Children of Dacre are starving. There’s only three of us in Southern California and Emily is the first Lycanti we’ve fed from in months.” She pulled her arm closer to her body, stroking it with her good hand. “They’re getting smarter,” she whispered, as if Emily would hear us through the door. “Their pack leader, this Josh guy, makes it almost impossible to take them. Think about it, Shaz: We don’t have a choice. It’s destroy the Lycanti’s solidarity, or starve.” Rachel paused for a moment, lost in thought. “After all,” she said sadly. “Why do you think there are so few of us left?”
Absorbing everything she said, I still couldn’t believe we were going to willingly share space with that beast inside the apartment ever again.
“You don’t think that Lenora is going to agree to this, do you?” I asked.
“Lenora is the Daughter of the Mother,” she answered quietly. “She will do whatever it takes to care for her Children.”
After that came the mundane details of dealing with the apartment manager who had heard the screams. Oh, and the police who met us outside to write Rachel a warning citation for noise violations (the barking dog), ask why we “looked like hell” (what a nice guy, eh?), and warn Rachel that next time she would face charges if she could not keep the peace (he didn’t particularly care that Rachel’s closest neighbor was deaf). So Rachel just said “Yes sir,” “Sorry, sir,” and “It won’t happen again, sir.” I just stood there like a guppy with my mouth hanging open, thinking about the rampaging wolf in Rachel’s apartment, and wondering if my leg and arm would bear scars from Emily. After the authorities had departed, Rachel looked at me with a slight smile playing on her lips.
“Ready to go back up?”
I laughed. Jesus, nothing ever shakes Rachel.
Emily
I will never know the words that Ranier used to make Luka obedient, but they must have been powerful. Ranier had swept in like a summer storm, bruising the sky around Luka and me and turning it the color of week-old plums with his authority. When Luka returned to me, I sought his eyes, but met a wall of resistance. He coldly said goodbye and left me the number to Ranier’s home if I had an emergency. Otherwise, he would see me after our dance with the moon for the month.
I would wait for him to come to me, I decided. I am sure that he had just discovered for the first time that he was being declared Micah’s father, and for that, he would need time. I would give him all the time he needed.
Thanks to the powerful Lycanti blood coursing through my veins, my broken bones and shredded insides mended in weeks. I probably should not have lived through my encounter with Maria, but these days, I find I am too damn stubborn to die. Luka still had not spoken to me about anything intimate at this point. Instead, that day he left me to my convalescence, alone in a motel room in northern Brazil. I do not speak Portuguese, but luckily a handful of the staff spoke English, so I was able to somewhat articulate my desires. Ranier paid for the room at Luka’s insistence. The patriarch also had several sets of clothes sent over to me, all in my size. Meals were delivered to me that first week since I had trouble getting around, and the hotel staff made sure I did not want for much.
Luka went home to his father’s grand estate.
He went home to Brooke and their son, Alexander. The memory of his hands on me sustained me for most of those weeks, but the night before the full moon, before the Change would claim me, I sought out the blood and warmth of another living creature. I needed to feel wanted, and I wanted to feel need. As much as I longed to go pull Luka from Brooke’s arms (for the impending Change affects us all the same), I would quell that desire. A stranger would have to suffice, no matter the language barrier. So dressed in a pair of jeans and a tank top, I hit the streets of this mid-sized Brazilian city.
The weather decided to remain temperate. The humidity hung in every corner of the sky, but this is Brazil, so close to the coast, to the forest, and to the rivers that you are practically breathing through a wet cloth most of the day. At night though, the breeze finds you, the buildings are alive with lights, and the soft, slurring sounds of Portuguese dance around you as people call back and forth to each other in the artificial light. I did not even attempt to focus on the words. Lu
ka would have translated for me, laughing at my “American ignorance,” but his desires and attentions ranged far from me at the moment.
The rhythms of the people and lights around me made my body practically vibrate. I could feel ever wisp of electricity that laced the sky, the life around me caressing me and making me remember who it feels to push up against another body. Even the beams of the moon seemed to work to unbutton my jeans and stroke me from throat to thigh. Hours from now it would get violent with its urges, but for now, only the softness buffeted me with insistence.
Where does one go for a one-night stand in a small Brazilian city? Where can depraved people like me prey on the foolish humans who mistake my litheness as a guise for pleasure instead of savagery?
Why, where the naïve and the lost go in any city, of course: a Roman Catholic church.
The spires of this small church don’t stab the air like the American places of worship do, each trying to outgrow the other in hopes of attracting more parishioners. Had the music not been pouring out the doors, I would have passed it completely. The building was a circular brick and mortar affair; everything about the building suggested it was well-cared for and perhaps no more than a few decades old. Since like 90% of Brazilians are Roman Catholic, I wasn’t surprised see that the inside of the church was warm with both candlelight and modern appliances. The music which had drawn me in was piped through speakers hanging over the doorway.
Even with the falling darkness, six or seven men and women sat in the pews listening to the priest speak in soft, slurring Portuguese. I hadn’t been in a church since I was around 12 or so during my mother’s religious phase, and the boarding school I attended did not require religion. Standing in the doorway looking around, I tried to identify the person most likely to fulfill my needs. Five of the attendees had gray hair; I needed someone with stamina. Another was a girl probably about my age. The only person left who fit my requirements was the priest himself, who was middle age but wearing it well. His lighter brown hair seemed out of place among the olive-skinned patrons, and his body was built like someone who had been an athlete in his life before the church. He was off limits, but the older man sitting in the second row was a strong candidate. I sauntered up to the front and sat right next to him. He looked up at my in surprise and I gave him a bold smile.
