Claws and Effect

by Amanda Arista

  “We’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know.” I watched as his periphery scanned Tyler. “Don’t mind you in my hair all that much.”

  I pointed upstairs. “Go to bed.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I TOOK MYERS HOME. We didn’t speak. I didn’t have the energy. I had a long night of healing some pretty massive wounds, and all I wanted was some eggs and a long hot shower.

  “Let me know how Nash is doing, all right?” Myers said as he bent over to look into the short car.

  “No problem.”

  “Get some sleep, Violet.”

  “No protests there.”

  Myers closed the door and walked up to his apartment steps. We’d figure the car thing out later.

  On my way home, though all I wanted to do was shower, I knew there was a phone call that I needed to make.

  I hit two and then speed dial. It rang. And rang. And rang. And then voicemail picked up. I frowned. Chaz never let his phone go to voice mail.

  “Hey, leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.”

  Nothing fancy.

  I waited for the tone. “It’s me. You were right. Plan A didn’t go so well, but plan B seemed to do the trick. Everyone is alive, technically. I’m going to be dead to the world for a few hours, but call me later? Bye.”

  I pulled into my garage just as I was hanging up. I sighed. It was probably for the best. I had no clue how to tell him that I’d just made our problems four times worse.

  SPRING WAS COMING. The forest chirped with birds and bugs as a half-moon hung low over the plains.

  He walked. Moving toward something just on the horizon that pulled him there. He adjusted the pack on his back. He’d long made his shirt into a type of bag to carry the ancient text. It was his one resource here.

  No, he thought, I am the only resource that I need.

  But he still wouldn’t let the book go.

  He stopped when he hit a clearing in the small bit of woods he’d been walking through, more like fighting through. The trees seemed to reach out and grab at what was left of his pants, but he fought his way through their protests.

  There was something here. Something in the clearing. His keen eyes drew across the tree line and the small clearing, waiting for something to show itself.

  The wind swept through the trees and he caught a whiff of magnolia.

  He growled to himself as he walked out into the clearing.

  A patch of high grass surrounded a small pond. It felt familiar, this pond, and his blue eyes reflected back in the smooth surface of the water. He could see his unshaven face and his exhausted eyes in the clear water, too clear, more like a mirror than a pond.

  He ran his hand across the top of the water and the knowledge flooded through him.

  The Veil.

  Everything he knew about the Veil flooded the foreground of his mind. He might have been half-possessed at the time, but he knew what you needed to get through.

  Blood and will.

  He sat very still. Fairy blood.

  There was a small rustle in the bush. And then a flit of light. Of course. If a fairy guarded the Veil on one side, wouldn’t fairies be drawn to the portals on this side? Everything else in this forsaken place seemed a horrible reflection of his reality.

  He remained very still and the smell of magnolias floated around him. She was here. She was close. Was this what had been pulling him across the changing countryside. A way to get back to her?

  As the fairy zipped past him, he snatched the white ball of light from midair and squeezed. It was like a spiked fireball in his hand as the little beast protested with a faint squeak and then the light faded. That was easier than the first time, he thought as he held the little body over the water.

  Small drops of what smelled like blood but looked like dark blue sparkling nail polish fell into the water. Thick and iridescent, the drops spread out over the water like an oil spill.

  The surface of the pond rippled and the air electrified. This was too easy, he thought as he looked down at the lifeless fairy in his hands. It was nothing more than a twisted looking vine in his hand.

  He put the drained body on the grass next to him and looked back at the pond. The water had gone smooth again.

  He reached out to touch the surface and the water adhered to his hand, just as it had when he’d leaped through the mirror the first time.

  “We knew that you couldn’t resist.”

  He snatched his hand away from the water’s surface and snapped his head around. It had been ages since he’d heard another human voice.

  This was not human. A Bigger stalked across the clearing. The wolf’s white mantle nearly glowed in the low moonlight and his teeth looked whiter for the dark surroundings.

  It was a trap. Why didn’t he see this coming?

  Another Bigger broke the edge of the forest behind him. Nearly surrounded.

  Think. Plan. This is your edge, he told himself.

  Slowly, as they stalked toward him, he slipped the pack on his back. He’d found this place once, he would find it again.

  He rose on his two feet and looked at the wolf. Its eyes were level with his.

  “Why are you chasing me?” he demanded. His own voice was course and rough as he spoke for the first time in three months, but it felt like an eternity.

  “Half-breeds taste so much better,” the wolf said.

  His gut lurched in protest that he was not a half-breed, but his sister was. Could their connection be so strong that even these beasts could smell her on him?

  “I’d refrain from leaping to conclusions. You don’t know what the other half is.”

  He felt the one behind him move first. With a small step, he jumped for the pond, hoping that little bit of pure fairy blood would equal the power of a gallon of blood on the other side.

  The force that propelled him away from the water was like being shot out of a canon. He flew through the air, and the Biggers froze as they saw him fly.

  He landed on his two feet and shifted down to four and darted toward the woods, still disoriented. He zigzagged drunkenly through the low lying branches that seemed to give him easier passage away from the pond.

  The Biggers tore through the woods behind him, breaking the branches as they ran after him.

  He hit a riverbed and leaped across the water. The pack on his back made him clumsy and he lost his footing on the river rocks as he landed on his right leg. A sharp branch jutting out of the mud caught him in the ribs and tore at his flesh as he continued to run.

  The Biggers were right behind him, leaping across the river, landing on their sure legs.

  He could out run them. His smaller frame could sustain a longer run than their huge frames. He’d learned that.

  Patience. It was the first thing that he’d learned here. That long awaited hunts tasted better. That a well thought out execution had a beauty in it. He would get back to that pond and he would get across it.

  I WOKE UP AND it smelled like the house was on fire. I jumped out of the bed and threw my door open to discover that it wasn’t the house that smelled like hellfire.

  It was me.

  I went into the shower and got in, pajamas and all, and let the cold water beat on my head. The Legacy beat around me like a wild heart beating after a hard run. The water soothed my skin and slowly the smell of burning flowers faded and my energy calmed.

  The dreams were getting worse. Was it because I had used the power to help the mutts? Was Spencer getting strong wherever he was? Was he having the same dreams?

  Iris always said that we were connected because I was his first. But this? This was more than connected; this was bound. But how? And why couldn’t the bastard just let me get one night of sleep?

  CASA DEL BRIGGS was in Irving. It was the cheapest and the most rural apartment complex they could find in the Metroplex. The back of the property ran into a large open park. It was also just down the road from a huge shopping area, a Walmar
t, and right next to a train that could take them into Dallas or Fort Worth for work.

  Tucker and I were walking around the park. The other boys jumped and danced wildly around us in furry form. Both boys were perfectly healed with the shared energy of their new pack. One day was all it took.

  I couldn’t help but smile. Joy just poured out of them, and I lapped it up. I not only felt it on my skin but also up my arms and in my head as well. They ran and tossed balls to each other and played Frisbee seemingly without any memory of what had just happened.

  “Spencer used to let us play like this,” Tucker said as we sat down on a metal bench along a running trail.

  “Didn’t seem the frolicking type.”

  “Before you, he wasn’t that bad.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for,” Tucker said apologetically. “He just cracked. His father pushed him too far.”

  “Do you think I might have been able to help him?”

  Tucker shook his head. “I don’t think a person can recover from that kind of darkness. And I don’t think that you need to be worrying about the past.”

  I chuckled.

  “We may have ripped the Hogs a new one, but it’s still not over. The Pack will still fight among themselves to name an heir. That thing with Carlisle isn’t going away. No matter how deep Tyler buried him.”

  I sat silent. I’d read it in the paper that morning over the most protein-packed breakfast I could muster up. Strange things had been happening. A construction site was set on fire without accelerant and burned so hot that the metal supports melted, like hellfire hot. And there had been a car accident on the freeway that witnesses say the car just began to fly before it rammed into an overhead sign. That had to be them, the Barons clambering for power.

  “Do you think the others know that there is a choice?” I asked.

  “They probably think you’re some legend. I don’t think they know what to do with you. From what I’ve heard, you’re just like this other do-gooder from about forty years back, when Haverty was staking his claim.”

  I nodded. “Iris. Her and her sisters protected the city before Haverty turned the pack against her.”

  “Haverty probably couldn’t turn her. The Dark One can’t infiltrate people that good-hearted.”

  “We’re not good-hearted,” I shook my head. “We’re just stubborn.”

  Tucker frowned. “You know Iris?”

  I nodded. “She’s the one who trained me.”

  Tucker nodded his head and looked out at the boys who were playing Frisbee.

  “And we all have a weak spot,” I admitted. “Iris’s was her sisters.”

  “And yours?”

  Six months ago, I would have said Jessa. Poor petite little Jessa, but she had proven in the past four months to be a powerhouse herself. Made me sleep a little better at night.

  Was it Myers? Was it the Mongrels? Was it Chaz?

  “I don’t know. Maybe you don’t know until it’s threatened.”

  Tucker took in a deep breath by my side and let it out slowly. He had changed so much in the past day. He even smelled different. The other boys smelled like puppies now, their energy was like sticking your hand into a big pile of wriggly puppies, you couldn’t help but smile.

  Tucker was different. He had taken the shared power to a different place. He was strong now, solid, and his energy felt like that. To me he smelled like espresso, but I had the feeling that he now exuded whatever people needed to feel safe. Prompted a question.

  “What did Spencer feel like to you?”

  “What?”

  “When he used his power, what did you feel?”

  “Never thought about it before,” Tucker said as he put his arm along the back of the bench. “It was hard. Cold. Electric?”

  That sounded right. “Wow. What about me?”

  Tucker leaned toward me, his brown eyes looking at me long and harder. “You’re not Spencer, if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

  “No, No,” I said shaking my head. “I just want to know if I’m welcoming.”

  Tucker leaned back and looked out at the field. “Welcoming isn’t the right word. Awe-inspiring maybe?”

  I quickly slapped his thigh. “I’m being serious here.”

  “So am I,” he laughed. “The first time I met you I knew you were powerful, needed to be respected.”

  “Those aren’t good things in my book. I don’t want to be just that bully with all the power, Tucker.”

  Tucker shifted and turned toward me on the bench.

  “It’s like this. You make me feel like a knight fighting for a cause. Righteous and good. The first time I met you, I knew that you could be trusted and respected, and I would do anything you told me without question. Because you wouldn’t make me do bad things.”

  He stopped and turned back out to the field. “You’re not a bully, Violet. You couldn’t be like him.”

  I couldn’t speak. Mr. Emotional Knot was back, and I felt my eyes water up. If only he knew where the power had come from to pull off that little stunt at the bar. But it had been easier to reign in this time. Maybe that’s what the boys gave back to me.

  “And the boys feel the same way. They love you, Prima or no. And for people who have been hurt as much as they have, that’s saying something about you. Not the panther. About you.”

  “Would you stop talking already.” Hot tears ran down my face as I wiped them off on the sleeve of my jacket.

  Tucker let me sit there for a while. “Mind if I go join them?”

  “Feel free.”

  Tucker rose and took off his shirt; I knew it was more for show than anything else. I’d already seen him shift before. But this time I felt it, felt it like the lick of fur up my neck as his broad frame sunk down into the large Labrador.

  I watched as they tossed the ball high in the air and it became a game of football.

  It wasn’t until there was a stillness, until there was a peace that I noticed something was wrong.

  “Nash!” I called out.

  The dog with the long hound ears looked in my direction. But where he was all black before, his nose had gone white and there were the making of spots on his back.

  With the same shimmer as Tucker, Nash came to sit next to me on the bench, every stitch of clothing still in place. I felt the shift cross my skin like lying naked underneath a chenille blanket.

  “You’ve got spots.”

  “Oh,” He almost sounded as if he was going to shrug off the information, until I saw a glimmer in his eyes. “Oh,” he said, a smile spreading across his face.

  “How did you change your coat?”

  He nearly grinned and in that first grins, I saw the making of deep laugh lines that hadn’t been used in a while. “Not change. Changing back.”

  “What? I didn’t think that we could change our animal form.”

  Nash licked his thin lips. “Spencer wanted all black dogs. I had spots. He . . .”

  My hands clenched into fists on my legs “Did he hurt you until he got what we wanted?”

  “Yes, but that’s all in the past,” Nash said quickly. “I’m changing back, becoming my true dog, if you will.”

  He reached out to rest his thin hand on top of mine, and I was awash in that heavenly puppy scent again. I officially resend my dislike of dogs as long as they are not digging through my trash or trying to eat me.

  “I can’t explain why we just couldn’t be before. We are better now, like this, with you. I know you don’t like the P word, but with you as a big sister, we can do this.”

  “I’ll take big sister. Now go play. The Briggs boys have an unfair advantage over Shadow.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I’VE NEVER BELIEVED in a calm before the storm. I’ve never been in a major storm, so I really didn’t know why one would need a calm before a storm or why something like that would happen.

  Stupid Violet.

  The week after Hogs and Henny, the cit
y was quiet. There were no attacks on me or my friends. There were no missing girls or strange occurrences that left a trail of magic in its wake. I found myself scanning the headlines every day on my new smart phone just waiting for something to hit the fan.

  I was also in the calm before the summer shooting of the movie. I’d sent in my edits late and missed a conference call while hanging out with the boys. Now it was all waiting.

  So I started a new project: writing down the dreams my mother had given me. I started jotting down notes, the first one about the princess and the cat, then the girl in the mirror, and my new personal favorite, the inn keeper’s daughter. It felt natural, writing down the premonitions that my mother had. Wasn’t that a family trait also? Didn’t Violette Jourdaine write down the dreams she had of her great granddaughter three times over?

  By that Wednesday, I had most of it written down in a diary that I’d never used. People were always giving me diaries. I hadn’t used a diary since I was twelve, right around the time when . . .

  My phone rang. I hit the speaker phone.

  “Brilliant genius hard a work,” I said as I sketched out the cover art for what had become a book.

  “I need you at the office,” Jessa said.

  “I’m not mediating the sexual tension between you and construct . . .”

  “The Veil is open.”

  I was out the door and in my car in three seconds. Good thing I had a sweater and shoes in the car.

  My tires squealed as I turned the corner a little too sharply onto I35 North and then again into the parking lot outside of the Infomart. It wasn’t just fate that her office was only a minute from my house.

  I pulled my shoes and sweater from the “back” of my car and ran into the building. Without knowing what or who might be passing through, I kept the shoes off.

  As I slipped past the security guard, I waved and smiled and darted back to where Jessa’s office space was.

  The pulsing of the Veil was immediate when I threw open the door. So was the sheer gorgeousness of the new space.

  There was still a wall of plastic sheets and behind it I could hear men talking.

  Crap. There were workmen here.