“Yes, Jez. I’m terrified,” she said, went into the bedroom as Rogue chuckled. She closed the door behind her and went toward Jinx, not sure if he was going to be angry or not for the way she’d gotten in between him and Rifter.
He wasn’t. He leaned back against his pillows as though drained, patted the bed next to him for her to join him. She did and he started with, “I’m sorry. Rifter and I are going through a difficult time. I didn’t mean to put you in the middle.”
“You didn’t. I did.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
She sat on edge of the bed, legs dangling. He reached out to run a hand along her thigh. “What did you think of Stray and Killian?”
“I like them. It makes me feel better that not everyone from my pack is an asshole.”
“You could still meet them, if you wanted to. Sometimes people need to see where they came from with their own eyes.”
“I don’t want that. And obviously, I have nothing to offer them.”
“You’re a Dire,” he told her, like that meant everything, and maybe it should, but she couldn’t accept it yet.
“They didn’t want me.”
“That hasn’t been proven, but no matter what, we do. I do.”
She wanted to trust that. “Why would my own pack disown me?” It felt so right to say that word and for the first time in forever, no one corrected her. “Why abandon me? They must’ve felt something was off.”
“Dires don’t let their own go.”
“They let Stray and Kill.”
He sighed. “Different circumstances. You were left as an infant. They wouldn’t have known if you had an ability yet. There are no prophecies about you.”
“How about an unwanted pregnancy?”
“Not the same thing in the wolf world. Mistakes happen, children aren’t punished for that,” he told her. “But the thing is, a Dire’s not able to give birth till she’s shifted. So none of it makes sense unless you were taken.”
“Like stolen or kidnapped?”
“Maybe. And it’s not like those Dires could go to the police. Tracking you would’ve proved too risky.”
She wasn’t buying it. Something fierce and primal inside of her told her she’d track her missing child to hell and back. “I hear . . . rustling in my ears.”
“Normal. That’s your wolf, letting you know your time’s close.”
She’d missed everything because her body had spent its lifetime trying to prepare her and doctors spent the same amount of time telling her she was schizo. Her parents had tried, but they’d grown weary of her supposed psychosis and delusions, the outbursts of violence that came out of nowhere that she could never explain.
“I have a terrible temper.”
Jinx’s grin was . . . well, wolfish. “Join the club. It’s supposed to be. You’re going to be all right. I’ll make sure of it.”
She wanted to believe him, and so this time, she did. “What’s really going on with you and Rifter?” she asked. “Or is that a sore subject?”
“It’s a shitty subject.” He couldn’t tell her that he’d disobeyed Rifter purposely to get thrown out of the house. Or maybe he could—should. Why get closer to her when ultimately, she wasn’t going to want anything to do with him? Not that he could blame her.
“Hey, lots of thinking going on in there. I don’t like seeing you sad.”
“I have stuff to tell you.”
“About Rifter?”
“That. The hellhounds. I’m sure you’ve got questions. And you’ve been patient. Dealing with the wolf shit you’ve learned about and you’ve been sticking up for me. And you shouldn’t.”
“Because it gets you in trouble?”
“Because I don’t deserve it.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
She moved to sit next to him. “Start with the ghosts. Your ability. Rogue said that you see ghosts and he sees spirits. I think I know the difference, but it seems like a burden, which is why I guess you don’t call it a gift.”
“Doesn’t sound like it should be so terrible, I know. It’s just . . . ghosts, spirits, they don’t shut up. Ever. And they aren’t just going to talk about mundane shit most of the time. They like to tell you about how they died, over and over. They share every brutal detail, like they’re compelled to do so. And when you hear those gruesome stories day in and day out—and it doesn’t matter if you ignore them because they’ll still talk and a part of you will still hear, whether you want to or not—and you can’t be a wolf twenty-four/seven. You can do the salt thing outside the room but they’re still outside. Spells are dangerous because they can be used against you or backfire and I’ve seen enough proof of that to last a lifetime, which in my case, is centuries.”
“So they’re there, even when you’re . . . when we’re . . .” She motioned between the two of them.
“Most have the decency to stay away when I’m fucking. Either that or they know that an interruption will ensure I’ll be too pissed to help them afterward or that I can pretty much ignore anything when I’m coming. But afterward . . .”
“They bother you right away?”
“I guess they feel like I’m relaxed enough and hopefully in a damned good mood.” Jinx shook his head. “But it’s death, all day, every day, morning till night for as long as I’ve lived.”
“Centuries,” she murmured and he nodded.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m crazy. Sometimes I wonder if, in the end, it will drive me crazy.” He gazed at her. “I told you I understood how you felt all those years. That wasn’t some kind of empathetic lie.”
It was probably also the most honest he’d been with a woman—or anyone—including himself. Because he never talked about it, tried even harder not to think about it. Just wanted to get through the day and find relief as Brother Wolf at night.
“Gwen said you gave Rifter dreamcatchers. Does that help you at all?” she asked.
“Ghosts are nothing like dreams.”
“I’m sorry. That was stupid. I’m just trying to help but you’ve obviously dealt with it for a lot longer than I have.”
“I like it that you try to help me. I’m just not very good at accepting it, and that’s a Dire trait.”
She laughed a little. “I guess I can see that in myself.”
“Admitting it’s the first step.”
She hated to break up the few moments of levity, but she pushed him, her voice gentle. “Why are the hellhounds protecting you?”
“Because I freed them from purgatory, along with the monsters that people at the psych hospital saw. I’m responsible for that, and until I figure out how to handle it, everyone I care about is in terrible danger. Look, I can live with the ghosts. Got no choice. But this other shit that escaped—the freaks, monsters, whatever you want to call them—they’re fears personified. And while fear’s a part of everyday life in healthy doses, these are stripped free of any limits. They’re pure, unadulterated fear that can wreak havoc on the world. Turn man against man. And Rogue is talking about leading them into hell.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“Means he’ll be locked in there with them. You don’t drop things off in hell and skip back out.” He hung his head. “Right now, it’s the only solution I see. I have to choose between my brother or the human race.”
She didn’t know what to say. Realized there was nothing she could say and, instead, pulled his head down to her shoulder, cradled him against her, wanting desperately to make it better.
He allowed it, the touch, the slight rocking, the murmur that they’d figure it out together because there was nothing else to do.
“I can’t imagine living the way you’ve lived without help. Protection. You’re so strong, Jinx. But now I’m here and I’m stronger. You have to let me help.”
“How? You can’t bodyguard me against ghosts.”
“What if I could? What if I can protect you and Rogue when you hunt? What if word
got out that nothing could or should bother you two when I’m around?”
“That’s too good to be true.”
“But what if it’s not?”
“Even if you could, I’d never let you. Do you realize how exhausting that would be?”
“Yes, I do.” She touched a hand to his cheek.
He blinked and looked at her. “Thank you, Gillian. But I don’t deserve—”
“You deserve everything good. I’m a lucky wolf to have found you.”
* * *
Jinx wanted to believe her, and a part of him did. But that didn’t change anything. “I can’t be what you want me to be. What you need me to be. I don’t regret anything we’ve done, Gillian, and my family is still yours. We’ll help you. But I can’t—we can’t—be together. Not in the way we’ve been.”
She stared at him, her expression sad. “What’s wrong, Jinx? I know you’ve been trying to shield me from things while you’re helping me with my problems. But can’t you let me help you for a change?”
He hadn’t wanted to tell her like this—or at all. But things were slipping further out of his control. The magic he’d once held over these monsters seemed to be fading and the slippery slope was turning his soul into something he may not recognize soon—not for much longer if he kept trying to keep these things from killing. “No, I can’t. And trust me, you shouldn’t want to.”
“But I do.”
“Gillian, please. I want you to walk away without hating me.”
“I could never.”
“I almost believe that.” He hung his head, stared at the carpet. He curled his toes, wishing it was fresh grass instead.
It was too tempting to shift, to let Brother Wolf take the wheel on a more permanent basis. Brother couldn’t help the ghosts so they didn’t bother him. In wolf form, Jinx could run away from his responsibility, let the monsters run wild over the humans.
But they would hurt wolves too, and other shifters and vampires alike. They would pervert the world and that would always be his goddamned legacy. Because he was easily tricked, like his father said.
And so he told her about his family. About how he and Rogue trained as hard as any alpha Dire in the warrior ways. They had little choice in the matter, as it was done for survival. And their father, a proud beta, should’ve been even prouder of his alpha sons.
“My father used to say that my mother was cursed before we were born and that’s why we came out being able to see the things we see.” Jinx paused. “He was right.”
“What do you mean?”
Jinx pressed his lips together, like he was trying to hold back the secret he’d held for a lifetime. From his twin, from everyone. But it was always in the back of his mind, and while the idea of never having a mate always concerned the others, for Jinx it appeared to be a blessing in disguise. It began to surface uneasily for him when Gwen appeared, but how often did lightning strike twice? “My mother was told by an old gypsy woman at the market that she was having twins. She tried to shrug it off, but the woman told her that the second one out would cause all the ruin. That we were both cursed with abilities that could ruin us. That we’d both know evil—that we’d court it. That it was in our blood.”
The twin curse had been passed down for generations. Some said it came from a human superstition, others said it was a bad Dire omen. When twins were born, there was no birth celebration—no, the village was as somber as they were during a funeral dirge. And no matter why that superstition existed, Jinx and Rogue had always been regarded with suspicion. Which meant they always had to work harder, be stronger, better, faster than the other Dires they grew up with.
Being saddled with a twin was bad enough, but then for both of them to have abilities? He was surprised his father hadn’t actually followed through with his threat to kill them once he’d found that out.
The only ones who knew about their abilities were their parents. The twins preferred it that way. Jinx couldn’t have imagined the hell it would’ve brought down on their heads had anyone in the village found out they could see ghosts and spirits. That in itself would be proof enough that the curse of the twins was true.
Their father thought so.
At first, he’d tried beating it out of the young wolves. Daily. And all of that healed up, because it was made preshift. Once they shifted, any scars made by another Dire would’ve remained. But to this day, Jinx’s back ached where he’d been hit over and over with a belt, the buckle slamming his vertebrae. They were made to sleep outside to toughen them up. Those nights were the worst, because it was open market for the spirit world.
“She never stuck up for us,” he remembered Rogue saying when they’d sifted through the rubble of their village, post Extinction, and found their mother’s body. He hadn’t sounded upset, but there was sadness in his tone. They’d been lucky to have each other. Jinx couldn’t have imagined going through it alone.
Whether or not the other Dires knew about their torture, Jinx didn’t know. He’d certainly never spoken of it, preferring to shove it to the back of his mind and be grateful he didn’t have to go back to it. The Dire massacre had actually been something of a relief to him, something he never voiced aloud. He had no idea if Rogue felt the same way.
“She couldn’t. Father would’ve killed her,” Jinx told Gillian. “He almost did a few times.”
“Then he was an abusive asshole, not a warrior,” she said.
That was the truth.
Gillian was watching him carefully before she continued, “So you were an outcast, just like me.”
“Ah, Gilly—”
“There’s no Dire world left like the one you describe. No one to stop me from being with you because of things beyond your control.”
“If you stay, you’ll get hurt. I can’t protect you.”
“But you already have. Several times plus, by my count. You’ve been hiding too much from me,” she told him. “I can’t blame you for that, but my life’s an open book.”
“Because you’re on the news,” he pointed out.
“Because you broke me out of a mental institution to tell me I’m a wolf.”
“Well, if you’re going to get technical about it,” he muttered.
“Jinx, please. I’d like to help.”
“You can’t. Trust me—if you could, I’d be eternally fucking grateful, but you can’t. You shouldn’t even be here.”
“If it’s that dangerous, maybe you shouldn’t either.”
“I have control of it.”
“Of what? The ghosts?”
He turned to her then and she actually took a step back when she looked into his eyes. “The monsters. For now, I have total control of them. But there’s going to come a time when the roles are reversed, and I don’t want you anywhere close to me when that happens.”
Chapter 20
After Cain and Cyd came back bloody and took the bodies of the Weres to Liam, Vice and the rest of the Dires went back inside the mansion. Killian boarded up the window so nothing could accidentally find its way inside and then they sat in the living room, all of them uncharacteristically quiet.
Or maybe stunned was a better word. Even Harm, who looked like an arrogant shit on the best of days, managed to look worried. Whether it was for them or for Jinx, Vice didn’t know. He also didn’t know if it mattered.
Finally, Killian said, “Why the hell did the Arrows give Gillian away?”
“Only one reason makes sense,” Stray said quietly.
“She has an ability,” Gwen murmured, finishing Stray’s thought. “How would they have known? The Blackwells have had her since she was an infant. Her baby picture’s been splashed all over the news. At most, she was a month, but I’d say closer to two weeks.”
Stray answered, “She probably walked long before she was supposed to. Had to be a month old but presented closer to a year.”
“And thought to be an abomination, just like me and Stray,” Killian added. “I don’t understand why the Elders woul
d allow that pack to exist in such ignorance.”
“Because they knew you guys and Gillian and Odin knows who else is going to be born from their bloodlines,” Vice said.
“So Gillian was given to a human family instead of the Elders, who could’ve passed her to us?” Stray asked angrily and Vice closed his eyes and tried to picture the Eydis he’d known going along with something like Jinx’s scenario.
“The Elders are more fucked-up than I am, and that’s saying something,” he finally muttered.
* * *
Cyd and Cain brought Liam the young Weres who’d been killed, apprised him of the situation. He’d remained inside after the panic started, and even though it killed him, he knew it was important for the king to remain alive and well. It was far too critical a time for another loss.
He placed a call to their original pack, thanking their leader and informing them that justice had been done swiftly.
“I’ll send you other wolves, Liam. And I’m grateful for your honoring Weres you’d never met.”
“They fought bravely,” Liam told them. “And I’m grateful for your solidarity.”
A few more brief words and he hung up.
There would be more days of this—months, years, even. And even though Cyd and Cain were weary of the outlaws and trappers, they were still primed for the fight. Now, they lay together on the couch, unwilling to split apart just yet.
The blood bond of the fight was strong—none wanted to break it. But a knock on the sunroom door sent them all into action, Liam pushing his way there first to find a weregirl waiting.
“What’s your business here?” he demanded of the dark-haired, pretty Were dressed in black leather pants and a white tank top with a pink bra underneath.
He practically heard Cyd panting behind him but something inside of Liam was claiming possession of her, even as his mind said he was done with that kind of shit for a long time. Still, he opened the door and waited for her answer, his body seriously demanding he do more than just talk to her.
He told his dick to shut up and waited for her answer as he waved away the other wolves.
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