“Michael had seen me murder our brothers. He couldn’t look at me. He ran away, and I followed him. I chased him for days, but it was all too much for his sensitive soul. He couldn’t bear any more violence.
“That’s when he ran into the soldiers. They were on their way back. They displayed their own turned soldiers as prizes on the hoods of their trucks; proof that they’d discovered our secret weakness, and knew how to kill us. I screamed to him. Screamed at him to stop, but he didn’t. Not until he was outlined by the headlights of their monstrous vehicles. They didn’t even slow down, Forest. They shot him in the chest and rolled right over him. They had used silver.
“I sent out the howl. The attack call. As Michael died in my arms, the full strength of the tribe descended on these beasts, ripping them to shreds. There wasn’t even enough left to bury. The losses were too great, the guilt was too much, and the pain drove us mad. We had, each of us, lost our mother all over again; except this time, it was our own goddamn fault. We took that out on the soldiers. No witnesses. No survivors.
“The girl was banished from my sight. I didn’t care who she went with, as long as she was out of my pack and never dared speak to me again. The wolves who had torn our mother apart were slain and displayed in full were-form on stakes around our territory. There were five of them. I tried and sentenced them myself.
“From that moment forward, I was a tyrant. I accept that. Empathy and compassion, love and companionship...they were too painful. I’d lost the love of my life, my best friend, my surrogate mother, and my teacher, all at once. Those two brilliant people kept me sane. Losing them drove me mad. Any aggression between members of any pack was met with brutal punishment for both parties. I was determined never to let another innocent get caught in the crossfire; the only way was to ensure that there was never any crossfire to get caught in. Fighting was not allowed, period.
“The youngest of us had reached the age of breeding, which didn’t help. Hormones flew here and there, and banishment became a frequent tactic in ensuring the no-fighting rule. Pack leaders would send their anxious, aggravated, horny members out of the pack...to save them from themselves, and from me. This led to a rash of accidental newbies, and a lot of interspecies sex with pre-turned humans. It was getting out of control. Our tribe was expanding faster than I could manage, and I realized that it was my fault. If my people weren’t so afraid of my torture, they wouldn’t be running away, and they wouldn’t be encountering humans when they were at their most unstable and subsequently breeding and turning beyond our capacity.
“I don’t remember Sarah. I remember sentencing her, but I don’t remember what she did. Chances are it wasn’t anything nearly bad enough to warrant what I did to her, but if her claws were filed, it meant she’d been fighting. About sixty-five, seventy years ago, I realized that the pack was getting too big, too visible, that the way we’d been doing things was going to put us dead center in the spotlight before long.
“So, I changed the rules. I dropped the torture entirely. Infighters were caged for a day or two until they cooled off, and then set free. I moved the tribe again, widening the distance between us and the humans. Some of the members enjoyed playing human occasionally, and I allowed it, as long as each trip was planned ahead of time. I softened my reactions and loosened my grip, and...like magic...order was restored. I wasn’t holding a fistful of sand anymore. Instead, I had it piled gently in my hand. We were just beginning to regain our balance when Animus took Bianca.”
Chapter Nineteen
Forest gazed off, unfocused into the velvety shadows of the woods. Uriel’s history swirled lazily in his mind, slowly absorbing into his consciousness. Uriel had fallen silent. Forest could see it all. He saw where the rumors came from, where the fear came from. Likewise, he could see how Uriel slept at night, even after everything he’d done. He’d been a child, putting up a cocky, vicious front in a desperate attempt to save his people. Could he really be blamed for allowing that facade to overwhelm him at such a young age?
“So you just did a one-eighty, seventy years ago?” Forest asked.
“Something like that. I learned that the way I was operating was causing more harm than good, and I changed. Shifters have long memories. Certainly longer than humans. I’m known now, and perhaps forever, as the alpha who will kill his own subordinates and display them as a warning. That’s an image that will stick with my people for as long as they live...and they will live a long time, if the humans would only leave them alone.”
“Understandably,” Forest said.
They sat in silence as Forest searched for his emotional response to the new information. It was weak at best. The initial shock of the descriptions of violence had faded, and he was left with a rational brain attempting to make sense of a grudge that was older than himself. Uriel was two hundred years old, which meant that he’d spent a quarter of his life making amends. Forest quickly calculated how that would look on his own timeline.
“Do you remember me telling you about how I was bullied in school?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Uriel said cautiously.
“Well...when I was seventeen, almost eighteen—a quarter of my lifetime ago—this kid who had been picking on me since second grade tried to shove me into a locker. I planted my feet and held my core...I’d been taking Krav Maga for a while at that point, and it was a reflexive reaction...but this kid got pissed. He wanted to humiliate me, and I wasn’t budging. I’d had enough. Well the bell rings, and he walks away, right, and I figure that’s the end of it.
“I was dating this boy at the time. He was very sweet and kind of fragile, he liked to wear frilly dresses and he always had a flower in his hair. He was all sparkles and joy and femininity, and he made me happy. I tried to be more masculine, you know, kind of his protector. He made me want to play the alpha role, I guess.
“So, we’re hanging out in the parking lot after school, and this kid, this bully, he comes up to me with a paper plate full of shit. Actual shit. He goes to throw it at me, and I dodge... but my boyfriend doesn’t. It was everywhere. His dress was ruined, his flower was ruined, it was all in his hair and sliding down his face, taking his makeup with it. He threw up all over his pink suede pumps, and that was the final straw. He ran into the school sobbing and spent the next hour scrubbing himself raw in the gym showers.
“I lost it. Pick on me, it’s whatever, but pick on him? No. I pulled out everything I’d ever learned about fighting, and I beat that kid bloody. Landed him in the hospital. My worst fear, realized. His parents tried to press charges, but then my boyfriend told them what he’d done. They confronted their son, and they had some kind of big emotional breakthrough. He went to therapy and I got off without a record.
“My point, I guess, is that I worked really hard to avoid being identified by that one violent moment in my history. And I realize that you have more than one, but one certainly stands out from the rest. You could have gone down in history as a strict, yet benevolent ruler if it hadn’t been for that one moment of violence. And you’ve turned it around since then. Managed to raise yourself along with a gaggle of other children at the human equivalent of five years old. Watched all of your parents die a horrible death. But you were still capable of compassion, empathy, and love, even for humankind. That, I believe, is your core self. That irrepressible drive to do the right thing regardless of the risks, challenges, or costs.
“So it doesn’t matter to me what Sarah did to earn your wrath, or how you punished her. It’s sad, and her memory or existence is worthy of acknowledgment and respect—reparations, even, if she survived the attack Strella heard—but she doesn’t define you. What you did to her doesn’t define you. What you do now, knowing you’re guilty of horrible things, knowing you’re responsible for the fate of hundreds of shifters...that’s what will define you.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Uriel confessed in a whisper.
“I think you do.”
Uriel stared off into the trees, watchi
ng the light from the fire play across the undersides of the trees. He thought about Strella, how her family was gone; either that or she was utterly insane. He had never in his life heard of an undetectable phone implant, but he hadn’t experienced everything human technology had to offer. He thought of Gomer, who had suddenly and unexpectedly faced the realization that his family might be gone. He thought about Jason...still an enigma, but a powerful one. Jason could be a brutal enemy or an essential ally with equal ease. He thought about his fierce, loyal Bianca; only fifty years old, his truest disciple. She hadn’t been around during his dark ages. If she had...well, he would rather not think about that. She was loyal to him and to Astris, utterly and completely.
She was the only member of the group who wasn’t virtually vibrating with uncertainty and fear. She was the only one who wasn’t wallowing in loss. But then, she was the only one who had her natural, bonded alpha with her. That counted for a lot. The uncertainty the rest of the group was feeling would manifest in outbursts of rage and paranoia if it wasn’t addressed in short order.
“They need resolution,” he said finally. “I need to figure out how to resolve each of their personal fears and losses.”
“No,” Forest said, shaking his head. “You’re still thinking like a micromanaging king. You need to ask them how they want their stories resolved. Get diplomatic about it.”
“You’re starting to sound like the mother,” Uriel said with a small, sad, half-smile.
“Why do you call her that?” Forest asked. “You knew her name, didn’t you?”
“Oh, yes. Joie DuMonte. She told us we could call her mother, or mama, or whatever...but that was too close to our pain, so we added the the. She was The Mother. That was her designation, but she wasn’t my mother, or his mother. You see?”
“That makes sense.” Forest nodded. “You know, this is the most honest you’ve ever been with me?”
“Honesty,” Uriel repeated with a mirthless laugh. “I’ve lived so long with diplomacy and secrets that it takes a conscious effort to speak honestly. It’s almost painful.”
“Maybe it’s time to change that,” Forest said quietly. He slid his hand into Uriel’s, sharing his warmth. They sat atop the fallen tree, watching the stars blink in the blue-black sky.
“So what do I do now?” Uriel asked.
“Talk to them,” Forest said gently. “Find out what they need, what they want. Then go from there. There’s a way to get everyone to the next stage. All we have to do is figure out what that is.”
Uriel slid off the tree and reached up to lift Forest down. He leaned his forehead against Forest’s and sighed. He didn’t want to go back, to face his past, to sort out the future. He wanted to stay here, lost in his Forest, until the world sorted itself out.
“Will you stay with me?” he asked, cringing as his voice cracked. “I don’t know how I’m going to do this without you.”
“I’ll stay,” Forest told him. “If you don’t give me a reason to leave, I’ll stay.”
“No pressure,” Uriel breathed.
Forest wrapped his arms around Uriel and held him—his powerful, ancient, fragile lover. He held him and wished all his pieces would stick back together, that he could be reborn as the man he was supposed to be.
They walked back to the others, who had cleaned and cooked the kills that had been abandoned in the woods when the fight started. They had saved portions for Uriel and Forest, and were bickering in whispers as the pair walked back, hand in hand. Silence fell as they stepped into the circle of light cast from the fire.
Uriel took a deep breath, and Forest squeezed his hand. “You asked me why you should continue following me,” he began, “and the only answer I have is that you followed me out of Animus’ compound, and we got out alive. That was due, in no small part, to all of you. So I won’t ask you to follow me. Instead, I offer you my experience; my cunning, and my leadership, if a leader is what you need. I’m asking you now—what do you need, and how can I help?”
Surprise radiated through the group. Strella looked at him sideways, suspiciously. Bianca looked uncertain; her alpha was bowing to the will of the pack, a fact that made her desperately uncomfortable. Jason nodded. He was cunning enough in his own way to recognize a true leader when he saw one. Gomer saved his reaction, waiting for Strella’s response.
“You would trust a pack of lone wolves to dictate your direction?” Strella asked.
“No. I would trust a pack of survivors to decide their own fate,” he replied.
She nodded, satisfied with his response. “In that case, the best first move is to find out how the largest, oldest, and most powerful tribe has weathered these new threats. From there we can gather our resources and determine the status of the smaller packs.”
“I agree with Strella,” Jason said. “We should stand by our original plan to find Astris.”
“Gomer?” Uriel asked.
“I’m with Strella,” Gomer said quickly. “I...I mean, I agree we should look for the tribe.”
Uriel suppressed a grin and turned his gaze to Bianca.
“Sorry, sir, but...if they had said anything else, what would you have done?”
“I would have found a way to make it work,” he told her. “What is your opinion? What do you think we should do?”
“Find Astris, of course,” she said, exasperated. “It’s the only logical thing to do and I don’t understand why you felt the need to put it up for a vote.”
“Because I am not king here,” he told her gently. “I may not be king anywhere. Dictatorships, however benevolent, have the capacity for utter corruption. I know that better than anyone. It’s time for a change.”
“But...you’ve always been king,” she said, her voice quivering. “You’ve always been alpha.”
“And I will always be alpha,” he promised her. “But I was a better king when more people had a say in decisions that affected the whole. Trust me.”
“Yes, sir,” she said quietly.
“Now then,” Uriel said. “We’ve spent too many traveling hours in place. We must move on if we are to catch up with the others.”
“I thought you wanted to use them as a distraction?” Bianca asked.
“Upon further consideration, I’ve decided that it would be a mistake to sacrifice them if another, better option exists.”
“Yes, sir.”
Uriel watched as her uncertainty in him soured, etching a bitter expression across her pretty face. He frowned thoughtfully. He hadn’t known her well before they came here, but he believed that she was of the generation that either deified or villainized him, with very little middle ground. Altering his position, even slightly, could be enough to shake her faith in him. She was young, and had not yet rebelled; it was entirely possible that his new stance would push her to do so. He only hoped she waited until after they had resolved their current plight.
Chapter Twenty
Tentatively unified, the group marched through the night. As the earth chilled and fell silent in the hour before dawn, they stumbled upon a remnant of the rebel band who had attacked and abandoned them the morning before. She was alone, freezing, and hunger had rendered her weak and emotional.
“Hey,” Uriel said quietly, shaking her shoulder.
She looked up and burst into tears. “Okay,” she sniffled. “Get it over with.”
“Get...what over with?”
“Aren’t you going to kill me?” she asked pitifully.
“No,” Uriel answered with a shocked little laugh. “Why would I do that?”
“Because of what we did,” she said miserably. “What Roy did, but I didn’t stop him.”
“Forget it, for now. What happened? Where is Roy?”
“With the others,” she told him as tears slipped down her face. “They left me here because I wanted to go back. We don’t know anything and we don’t know where we’re going or how to get food or anything. We were going to starve out here, but he wouldn’t. He told me I was on my
own and took the rest with him.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Yesterday, I think, whenever we all ate. And we walked all day and so long into the night, and I just couldn’t do it anymore and he just left me here.”
She broke down in heaving, wracking sobs, and Uriel gestured to Bianca. “Go find her a rabbit or something. We’ll break long enough to get her taken care of.”
“But, sir, she—”
“I know what she was party to,” Uriel interrupted. “Doesn’t mean she should starve. Go on.”
Bianca glared but did as she was told.
“Now,” Uriel addressed the girl. “Do you know where the others were headed?”
“That way,” she said, pointing. “They’re following the river.”
Uriel shot Forest a triumphant look. He’d predicted as much.
“How are the others holding up?”
“They’re hungry and tired and scared,” she sighed. “But Roy told them he knew what he was doing, and I guess they believed him.”
“Alright,” Uriel said soothingly. “Rest a while, we’ll get you fed.”
“Do you believe her?” Forest asked in a whisper as Uriel collected twigs for a fire.
“Don’t you?”
“I’m not good at reading people, but it looked like over-acting to me.”
“Just a little,” Uriel agreed. “She is absolutely vying for our sympathy, but I believe she’s telling the truth. If she is, we should catch up to the others before long. They’ve got more stamina than humans, but they still need to eat. If they can’t eat, they’ll need to rest.”
“I trust your judgment,” Forest told him.
“Let’s hope your trust is warranted.”
They fed the girl and talked to her a bit. Her name was Jezebel, which didn’t make Forest feel any better about her, but he knew better than to base his opinion on something as arbitrary as a name. Once she was tended to, they moved on. She had to be shushed repeatedly; as soon as she had a full belly, all she wanted to do was talk. She aggressively pursued Gomer until Strella snapped at her, then she turned her attention to Jason. Jason might as well have been made of stone for all the encouragement he gave her. After an hour or so of this, she fell into subdued silence. Uriel expected to find the others at any moment, but the sun rose without them.
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