by Sierra Dean
I bit my lip and considered whether or not I was willing to risk saying anything else. If he shot me for talking, the world would see. I’d have a bullet in me, though. And a shot to the heart would kill me.
“You don’t want to shoot me, Sheriff. Deerling likes to play with the dogs before he kills them. Isn’t that right, Tim?”
“Dogs.” His cold, weird smile gave me chills. “Good. You know your worth.”
“I guess she didn’t.” I rubbed the fur again. “What did she say to you before you made her change? Did she beg for her life? Did she ask you why? Why?” I was the one asking now.
“She said no. She didn’t ask anything. Didn’t beg. Your kind thinks they’re tough as nails until the knife digs in. Then it’s too late.”
“Goddammit,” McGraw snarled. “You damned fool.”
A thrill of self-satisfaction rippled through me, and Wilder eased his hold on me. “Ten years is a long time to learn what werewolves are like when they die, isn’t it?”
“It only took one to know you all squeal like pigs when you’re bled.”
A million threats came to mind. Things I wanted to tell him I’d do to make him squeal. I stayed quiet, working my jaw to keep from ripping his throat out.
Wilder must have been nervous. The smell of werewolf was potent around me thanks to his proximity and the fur in my arms.
I had Deerling in the target sights now. I just needed to tip the scales a little further in my favor.
“How many would you kill to make your point?” My voice was barely a whisper, but in the empty space, it sounded loud enough.
“As many as it takes.”
“I’m guessing that includes us?”
He chuckled and glanced at Sheriff McGraw. “Well it’s not like I can let them go now, can I?”
“No,” McGraw said through gritted teeth. I got the sense he didn’t like being a party to this, but I had trouble sympathizing with a man who got blood on his hands then whined about being dirty.
Deerling would soon belong to Cain, but McGraw would be left behind to face all the consequences.
“If you take care of the thug, I’d like some alone time with Miss McQueen. I want to make something, with her help, to send her dear uncle.”
I’d like to make a soup tureen out of Deerling’s skull. I bet Uncle Callum would have loved that. I wondered, vaguely, if Callum was watching this now. I wondered what he’d think when he eventually saw it, and whether or not he’d be proud of me for what I’d managed to do.
Would he see a queen or a stupid girl? A leader or someone who had made too many mistakes to be redeemed?
Ask him when you see him again.
“Tim, let’s take them downstairs and be done with it. Quick and easy.”
“She got away from me. I want the time she stole. I need her family to know they can’t send their weakest after me and expect it to end well. I want them to see what’s coming for the rest of them, starting with her.”
“Like hell,” Wilder growled, stepping in front of me.
“How noble. Let me guess. If you want her, you’ll have to go through me? Fine.”
I used the cover of Wilder’s body to pull the knife out from the waistband of my jeans without drawing attention. I looked up in time to see Deerling grab the sheriff’s gun.
The flare of the muzzle blinded me, and a scream caught in my throat. White noise clouded my brain, and I didn’t hear the shot ring out. Wilder slammed backwards into me, knocking me into the podium. I got out of the way before he could take me to the carpet with him when he fell.
I stood beside him, the knife in my hand held tight against my leg. Blood pooled red and wet on his white shirt, like a nasty crimson flower ready to be plucked. Instinct told me I needed to put pressure on the wound. I needed to help him.
Madness turned me on my heel and sent me leaping through the air at Deerling. I knocked the gun from his hand and had him on the floor before he had a chance to react to me moving. I could have cut his throat and not felt anything.
Instead I smashed the handle of the blade into his cheek, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone under metal. It was downright restrained considering what I wanted to do.
“See?” He was laughing in spite of how much pain he had to be in. “You are an animal. No impulse control.” He adjusted his jaw, and I stared down at him in fascination and horror. The red mark on his face where I’d hit him was already a mottled purple-blue.
He was healing.
The knife felt heavy in my wet palm.
“What the fuck?”
Sheriff McGraw grabbed me by the armpits, yanking me off Deerling’s supine body. Timothy got to his feet, rubbing his cheek with only the slightest wince.
“Let her go,” he instructed.
The sheriff hesitated, then released me. He stooped to collect his gun, but I was too busy gaping at Deerling to take much notice of who had the weapon.
Deerling’s formerly blue eyes glinted yellow-green, the irises all wrong for a human.
“No fucking way. You’re a… You’re…”
“My blood is tainted, like yours. The difference is, I resist my sin while you animals revel in it.”
He was a goddamned werewolf.
Suddenly the heightened scent of wolf in the room made sense. It wasn’t Wilder or the fur. It was Deerling. He hadn’t been using the magnolia and wolfsbane to keep us at bay. He’d been using it to mask his own smell from others who might recognize him for the liar he was.
Knowing he was a wolf made this whole thing so much worse.
I’d had enough trouble acknowledging a human could hurt others this way. But a werewolf doing this to his own kind? A wave of disgust hit me, and I tottered like I was on a boat in the midst of a storm. Only sheer determination kept me upright.
“You’re a werewolf.”
“What?” Sheriff McGraw looked from me to Deerling then back, clearly trying to decide whether or not I was lying.
“Look at his fucking eyes.” I pointed at Deerling, and he sneered. It was obvious he no longer cared. I didn’t think he had any intention of letting us leave here alive, McGraw included. He figured his secret would die with us.
But the wolf was out of the bag, and he didn’t know.
I backed away until I was flush with Wilder, my foot against his thigh.
Please be okay.
Sacrificing myself was a risk I’d been willing to take, but his life wasn’t something I was okay with giving up. Now he was bleeding out, and that was my fault. If Wilder Shaw died here, all bets were off. Cain could kiss his deal goodbye.
I would bring the wrath of God down on Deerling, werewolf or not.
“This is a t-trick, it’s… You’re m-making this up,” Sheriff McGraw stammered. The gun shook in his hand, and he couldn’t figure out where to point it, so it ended up angled at the floor.
I almost jumped out of my skin when something touched the back of my leg. Wilder, his eyes barely open, had cupped the back of my calf. He squeezed, his touch weak.
But he was alive.
“You didn’t need to fake the werewolf attack. You killed her yourself. All that stuff downstairs is just your trophy room. You were your own weapon.”
“I showed everyone. Wolves are monsters.”
“You’re the monster.”
“I wasn’t.” He licked his lips. “I wasn’t always. Not until her…”
I glanced at the fur I’d dropped near the podium. “Her?”
He shook his head. “I knew a girl when I was younger, and I loved her, but it turned out she was a monster. And you animals don’t know how to love. You only know how to ruin lives. So now I make sure she and those bastards can’t hurt anyone else.”
The redhead at the compound. All those kids. Jesus, what was he doing? He’d known she was a wolf for over a decade, if his killing spree was an indicator, but he had kids younger than five. What the hell was he doin
g? Raising a whole generation of willing sacrifices? What was he going to do to them?
This whole thing kept getting more and more twisted.
“Your children aren’t monsters.”
“They will be. Eventually.”
I wondered about his wife. She probably didn’t carry the gene, but their unborn child might. It wasn’t a sure thing, like any hereditary genetic condition. The redheaded kids, though, if their mother was a wolf, they all had the gene for sure. I thought about the little girl, and it no longer mattered that she had watched them take me. She had a good reason to be fucked up.
And I wanted to save them.
“We’ve talked enough,” Deerling announced. “McGraw, hand me the weapon.”
The sheriff considered holding on to it, I could tell from his uneasy expression and the tight grasp he had on the weapon. But in the end his devotion to Dear Leader was too much. He gave Deerling the gun.
Timothy shot him in the head.
Red mist hovered in the air as the sheriff fell to the floor. It rained down on him like a sign of the apocalypse.
Deerling leveled the gun at me.
“Guns aren’t your style.” I was panicked now. If he’d stuck with his original plan to make torture-porn of my death for Callum’s viewing displeasure, I would have had more time to come up with a way out. He would have slipped up. Something.
But Wilder and McGraw had proven there was no way to dodge a bullet.
“I could have had fun with you, you know? You remind me of her. The one who did this to me. I’ll say that for you bitches, you know how to make things wild.”
“I’m tickled.” My gaze darted around the room, fixing on the cameras in a silent plea for help. I’m so sorry.
“Another time, I might have kept you.”
I resisted the urge to say I’d rather die. He could help me out with that. Instead I settled for the sad truth. “Yeah, another time and we could have shown you how to live with it. We could have helped you. Pack is family.”
“I don’t want your family.” He pulled back the hammer on the gun, and I closed my eyes, saying a quiet prayer to the gaudy gold Jesus overhead.
“Good. Her family doesn’t want you.” The voice was so deep and boomed from everywhere, I briefly thought God himself had come down to save me.
I would settle for my uncle.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Deerling swung around, gun searching for Callum, but the space behind him was empty. The voice he’d heard had come from everywhere. I realized after a moment it wasn’t really my uncle; his voice was being piped through the speakers in the church. From where or by whom I had no idea.
When he realized he’d been fooled, Deerling spun back towards me, gun raised. A loud pop made me scream. I waited for the pain to come or the force to knock me back, anything that might indicate I was hit. Instead the whole scene froze in place. Someone was wailing, and it took me a long time to realize it was me.
The shot rang in my ears, and the smell of gunpowder filled the room.
Deerling staggered, the pistol falling from his hand.
He teetered like a drunk and braced himself against a pew, turning to face me. His cheek was missing, bloody sinew and teeth exposed in a macabre grin. When he tried to speak, blood spilled from his lips down the front of his shirt, and he collapsed onto his knees.
My scream died on my lips.
At the back of the church, near the entrance, Deputy Josie Dwyer stood, her gun still raised and her eyes wide with clear surprise over what she’d just done.
“Jesus,” she muttered. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
“A-ambulance.” I stumbled to the floor, my wobbly legs folding under me so I was suddenly on my butt in a pool of Wilder’s blood. The moment I understood the immediate danger was over, my hands were on him, taking over from his, pressing his wound. “You’re going to be okay.” I didn’t know if it was a lie or a wish. “Call an ambulance.”
“Are you hit?” she asked.
“It’s not me.”
She dutifully lifted her radio and made a request for an ambulance and more backup. I dimly heard the words officer down, but my attention was all for Wilder.
“You weren’t supposed to get hurt,” I whispered, using my free hand to take his. I lifted it to my lips, pressing a kiss on his knuckles.
“I had to impress you somehow.”
“Getting shot is a stupid way to impress me. Don’t do it again.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“Next time, buy me some flowers and call it a day.”
“Sure. I know how much you love magnolia.” He closed his eyes, his grip loosening.
I looked up, blinking back tears. The pain in my chest was so tight and raw I thought my heart might stop just so the feeling would go away. How had I screwed things up this royally? Deerling was dead, Wilder was… Wilder wasn’t doing great.
I couldn’t have done this worse if I’d tried.
Cash was standing next to me, though I didn’t remember seeing him come in. He crouched down next to me, a phone pressed to his ear. Giving me a quick once-over, he said into the receiver, “Yes, sir, I think she’s okay. I’ll get her to call you as soon as she can.” A pause. He glanced at Wilder. “I don’t know.” He hung up.
I stared at the phone. “C-Callum? Was it you…with his voice?” I pressed harder on Wilder’s ribs, hoping the pain might make him wake up. He didn’t respond.
“He called me when he saw the news. There’s a speaker jack at the door, for a walking mic, I guess? No idea. I plugged my phone into it. Your uncle’s idea, which makes sense. Insanity seems to run in your family. You’re out of your mind, you know? Broadcasting this for the whole damned world to see.”
“I keep telling her she’s crazy,” Wilder mumbled, and I started to cry. The relief of him still being alive was too much to keep inside.
“Yeah, well, you and I finally agree on something. How did your uncle even have my phone number?” This question was directed to me.
“I have no idea, but it’s Callum. He’s probably had it since you and I started dating. Perks of being a king, he just knows stuff.”
Cash got to his feet as the paramedics arrived. I was grateful to the sheriff for his decision to plan for the worst, even though the worst ended up with him dead.
The crew gently moved me aside, replacing my hand with a big gauze pad. I waited as long as I could before letting go of his hand. When they pulled him away, my heart sank, not knowing if it would be the last time I’d see him alive.
Another paramedic wrapped me in a blanket and led me outside. The parking lot was swarming with police cars, not all of which had the Franklinton Sheriff’s Department logo. Josie was talking to a female plainclothes officer, and I was taken to an ambulance before I could talk to her.
I wanted to thank her. To let her know, somehow, that what she’d done was worth it. The paramedics were having none of it. They sat me in the back of an empty ambulance and checked me for injuries and signs of shock. I barely noticed them. Cash and Matt were talking to officers next to a big police van, and two body bags were wheeled out one after the other.
At least it’s not three.
“There’s a fur…rug inside. I need it,” I announced, trying to get to my feet.
“We’ll get her,” a male paramedic assured me. When I blinked at him in confusion, he blushed. “The videos are everywhere. That one… The one with all the things he had?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry for your loss. I wish we’d all known right away where you were.”
I nodded dumbly. I guess I hadn’t made that clear initially.
“Is my friend going to be okay?”
The two paramedics taking care of me exchanged uneasy looks. “It’s hard to say. But his accelerated healing gives him a better chance.”
I stared at the church again, wishing I could burn the whole place to the ground. I was grateful my body w
as too weak and too tired to make that wish a reality.
“You need to send someone to the rural road near the turn for Folsom. There’s a family there. You’ll need police.” Probably a whole team of therapists. “Someone needs to help them.”
They waved over a cop, who took my directions, nodding vigorously no matter what I said. “We’ll take care of it. You rest, y’hear?”
There was no chance of me sleeping again for a very long time.
I thought about Callum’s voice and about my home. I thought about Wilder and his willingness to sacrifice his life for my stupid plan. I put my face in my hands and cried until my eyelids felt like sandpaper and I’d scared everyone around me into leaving.
I’d wanted so badly to prove I could help by coming here.
All I’d done was get people killed.
Some queen I was shaping up to be.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Light fell across my eyes and I squinted, pulling my duvet up to cover my face. It was too warm to be using a heavy down-filled comforter, but I liked the way it made me feel like I was being cuddled. It literally comforted me.
Bacon, however, was a siren song I couldn’t resist.
I pushed back the covers, blinking away the sun, and fumbled with my toes for my slippers. Warm sunlight was painted across the floor, my balcony doors fully open to let in the fresh morning air. The world smelled clean and bright, and the birds outside wouldn’t shut up about the perfect day coming.
With a lightweight kimono wrapped over my cotton nightgown, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. Lina had an industrial-size grill out and was frying about seventeen pounds of bacon on it. Three cartons of eggs were stacked next to the grill, waiting their turn.
“Morning, lovey.” Lina smiled, dumping a dozen strips of bacon onto a tray covered in paper towels.
I went to grab one, but she whacked me with her spatula. Hard.
“Ow.” I yanked back my hand and gave her a pouty expression.
“You get nothing until you go talk to your uncle. Some stunt, leaving that note with me, you sneaky pup. You’re just lucky all that stomping and snarling doesn’t scare me.” She smiled again, loading more tempting bacon onto the grill.
