Pride

by Rachel Vincent

  At my side, Kaci showed no reaction at all. She merely stared across the clearing at nothing, tears dried—or frozen—on her cheeks, eyes glazed in what could only be the onset of shock. And suddenly I understood why she had reacted so violently to the state and placement of Hannibal and his victim. They were a terrifying, distorted reflection of the very sight she had to show us. She probably thought that once Reid saw that, he’d want to tape her up and knock her out, too.

  But that wouldn’t happen. What Kaci had done wasn’t the same, and anyone with half a brain would have to see that.

  Hannibal—in all his lunatic glory—had killed and eaten one of his own while in human form. He wasn’t noticeably thin, which meant he had plenty to eat. He’d committed murder and cannibalism, and his only defense—insanity—was the very thing that would render him useless to the werecat community at large.

  But Kaci had been attacked by the woman she’d killed. She’d been alone, terrified, exhausted, and literally starving. She’d killed the woman in self-defense, and probably had no idea that eating her human kill wasn’t acceptable.

  I’d never seen a more clear-cut case of temporary insanity. Kaci hadn’t even known what she was. One day she was a human teenager, the next she was a big black cat, and she had no reason to even suspect that she might ever see two feet again. She was starving and suddenly confronted with what looked and smelled like food. She would have been crazy not to eat.

  Right?

  Reid didn’t look anywhere near as sure as I was. He stood with one palm spread on the trunk of the red cedar, staring at Kaci as if she’d just grown an extra head. Murder was a capital offense, and cannibalism an abomination. A taboo with such strong associations with damnation that even speaking of such things gave most werecats the creeps. Man-eaters were not tolerated. And I’d never even heard of a man-eating tabby cat. Much less a man-eating teenage tabby stray.

  The council would have no idea what to do with Kaci now. Hell, I had no idea what to do with her.

  It took Jace, Ethan, and Reid nearly half an hour to get the dead woman out of the tree without dropping her or pulling her limbs from their sockets. Kaci had somehow managed to drag her kill onto a branch more than twelve feet off the ground, and I couldn’t imagine the hunger and desperation that would drive such a small, weak cat to such lengths to protect her meal.

  Hell, I was rarely motivated to put leftovers into the fridge for later, rather than scraping them into the garbage disposal.

  Another wave of nausea crashed over me at that thought, and at the realization that I’d just compared a half-devoured human corpse to a tuna casserole.

  Once Ms. Tindale was on the ground, the guys got her wrapped and taped with little trouble, thanks in part to the fact that she was past the point of rigor mortis, but had not yet started to rot because of the near-freezing temperature.

  When they were done, I left the nearly catatonic tabby long enough to pass out bottles of water and protein bars to refuel everyone before we started back, though Kaci refused both.

  Even though there was very little smell coming from the body, I knew without a doubt that carrying the plastic-wrapped bundle back to the lodge would be one of the hardest, most profoundly disturbing things I would ever have to do.

  And I would help. I couldn’t refuse, especially after letting the guys do all the hard work. So after I stuffed our trash back into Reid’s bag—intentionally ignoring the fact that I’d voluntarily taken up the food-and-cleanup role—I picked up one end of the wrapped bundle without being asked. Fortunately, I got the woman’s feet. I couldn’t have handled carrying her head. Even so, Jace tried to take it from me.

  I cut him off with a curt shake of my head and a determined look. I would pull my own weight, even if it meant shouldering some of Amanda Tindale’s.

  Ethan took the other end and together we carried the poor woman through the woods, then back along the stream, following Jace, who led the way with one arm wrapped firmly around the young tabby’s shoulders.

  Kaci stumbled once near the stream and almost fell into the water, and when Jace first picked her up, then physically turned her around to face us, I realized she wasn’t watching where she was going. At all. She stared off into space, even when he shone his flashlight into her eyes, as if she could see neither it nor us. She walked, but only when and where he led her. She wouldn’t answer any of our questions, or even meet our eyes.

  After that, Reid and I switched places so we could move faster. We wanted to get Kaci back to the lodge as soon as possible. Jace and I walked on either side of her, each with an arm wrapped around her, and I called my father as we walked, more than relieved by the strong cell phone signal even in the middle of the woods.

  I explained what we’d found, and about Kaci’s current nonresponsive state, and in return I got a worried “Hmm.” I could tell by the heated comments in the background that everyone else in the room had heard me, and that as usual, no two Alphas could agree on how the situation ought to be handled. My father hushed them sharply. Then he told me to “Hurry back,” and hung up.

  We followed the stream back to Keller’s place, marching through his yard, around the cabin, and weaving among the trees out front. He watched through the front window, the base of an old-fashioned oil lamp in one hand, and I waved as we passed, but didn’t stop. He nodded in return, his face deeply shadowed from the flickering flame beneath his chin.

  Less than an hour later we stepped from the tree line fifty feet from the lodge. Reid and Ethan carried the body around back while Jace and I ushered Kaci through the front door, where Marc and my father were waiting for us, though everyone else had gone out to inspect the dead woman.

  We put Kaci on the couch and my father sat next to her. He took her hand and asked several questions, including whether or not she knew her own name, the date, or where she was. She made no response. She didn’t look at him, or at any of the rest of us.

  Daddy sighed, patting her hand. “Her skin is cold, and I don’t think she’s heard a word I’ve said.”

  “She’s in catatonic shock,” Jace said. I was pretty sure there was no such state—medically speaking—but I kept my mouth shut because I knew what he meant.

  When Jace and my father went out to join the other Alphas, Marc and I took Kaci upstairs and got her ready for bed. She neither protested nor helped when we dressed her in a nightgown, and once we got her in the bed, she only stared at the ceiling. She wasn’t even blinking often enough to suit me.

  Kaci had checked out of her body for the time being, and I saw no sign that she’d be back anytime soon. And I couldn’t really blame her.

  For several minutes, I sat on the extra bed watching her in the light of the bedside lamp. Marc sat with me, and I let my head fall onto his shoulder, treasuring the whisper of each breath he took, even under such unfortunate circumstances.

  We stayed like that until the back door squealed open downstairs, admitting a procession of heavy footsteps into the house below. Then I rose, pulling Marc with me.

  He stayed in the upstairs hallway because if they saw him, the Alphas would send him back to our cabin. But I took the steps two at a time, eager to hear what—if anything—the council had decided.

  As one, the Alphas converged on the living-room furniture, as I sank onto the bottom step. I’m not sure what I expected—arguments, maybe, or I-told-you-so’s. But I did not expect the parade of grim faces and hanging heads. The Alphas all looked…tired. Not like they’d given up, really, but like they’d aged. Drastically. And for Paul Blackwell, that hardly seemed possible; he was old as dirt before this whole mess started.

  Daddy took the armchair against the wall, and Malone sat opposite him, but for once I had a feeling he wasn’t actually in opposition to my father. He just wanted somewhere to sit without crowding onto the couch with the commoners, who would be played in tonight’s production by my uncle Rick and Paul Blackwell. Jace retreated to sit with me on the steps, while Ethan, Reid, Parker,
and Alex Malone lined up against the wall.

  The best policy for enforcers in a council meeting was to try to blend into the background. Sometimes if you don’t give the Alphas reason to notice you, they won’t. It’s one of the best ways to glean otherwise privileged information, and we were all experienced eavesdroppers.

  My father ran both hands across his face, as if trying to wake himself up. He hadn’t been sleeping well, and it was starting to show. “Call off the search for the strays.” He leaned back in his chair, templing his hands beneath his chin, for once heedless of the wrinkles in his suit jacket. “Radley is forming a Pride out of homicidal, likely mentally unstable, strays, and we have to take him out with one strike. We need everybody rested to do that.”

  One by one, the other Alphas nodded in agreement. Uncle Rick’s gaze settled on Parker. “There’s a list of cell-phone numbers on the fridge. Start at the top and work your way down. They’re out in pairs, so make sure you cross off the partners as you come to them to save time.”

  Parker nodded and headed into the kitchen, digging his own phone from his pocket as he went.

  “We still need a location,” Malone said, meeting my father’s eyes over the coffee table.

  “Yes, we do. Normally I’d send Marc, but since he no longer works for me, I’m open to suggestions.”

  Send Marc to do what? I glanced up at Ethan and he slammed one fist into his opposite palm, miming a punch. Oh. They were sending someone to pound some answers out of Hannibal. Wherever the hell he was.

  “Reid?” Malone twisted in his seat to make eye contact with the fastidious, bald enforcer.

  “Ethan will go, too,” my father said, rubbing his jaw now. “He’s taped up in the shed. Don’t come back until you know where Radley’s housing his men and how many there are.”

  Ethan and Reid nodded in unison, then headed for the back door.

  My father sighed and glanced at the rest of us in turn. “Everyone else should get some rest.” He twisted to face the stairs, and I expected his eyes to meet mine, but his focus settled over my head instead. “Marc!”

  “Yes?” Marc thumped into sight without hesitation, and I couldn’t help but smile. Our Alpha had known he was there the whole time.

  “Escort Faythe back to the cabin.” My father’s gaze settled on me with an emotional weight too heavy to quantify. “I’ll call you if anything changes with Kaci. For now, get some sleep.”

  It was a truly wonderful gesture. He was trying to give us one final night together. For goodbye. I blinked back tears, both because of his gesture and because of its significance. According to the clock over the door, it was 11:00 p.m. In eight hours, Marc would be gone.

  I stood, and Marc wrapped one arm around my waist. We walked back to the cabin slowly, trying to enjoy the evening stroll as if it were a routine event, rather than the last of such for six whole months. We were both grateful for my arrangement for semi-annual visits, but May seemed like a very long time away.

  My feet dragged as I climbed the porch steps. As glad as I was to be spending the next few hours alone with Marc, I knew that a good portion of that would be spent sleeping—though not all of it, of course—and that when we woke, it would only be to say goodbye. I wanted to delay that moment as long as possible.

  Michael sat on the couch in the living room, his laptop balanced on his knees, his head thrown back with his mouth hanging open. He was sound asleep, and I couldn’t imagine how he’d kept from dropping his computer. When I lifted it from his lap, he woke up. “What time is it?”

  “Just after eleven.”

  “Shit. What did I miss?” He removed his glasses to rub his eyes while I shut down his laptop.

  “Kaci led us to the body.” The screen went black and I closed the computer with a soft click. “It was in a tree. Half consumed.”

  “Nooooo.” Michael sat up, suddenly alert. “Not Kaci?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. She’s fucked up, Michael. Completely nonresponsive. I think she was okay as long as she didn’t have to think about it. But now she’s just…checked out. Nobody’s home.”

  “She’ll come out of it.” Marc leaned against my bedroom door frame. “Dr. Carver will know what to do.”

  “I hope so.” I circled the coffee table, headed toward him. But then I turned back to Michael when I remembered what I’d forgotten. “Oh, yeah. Zeke Radley is forming his own Pride out of a bunch of psychotic strays.”

  Michael’s forehead crinkled and he replaced his glasses, leaning forward on the edge of the couch. “Are you serious?”

  “Unfortunately. And they’ve evidently been chasing Kaci, trying to add a hen to their collection of roosters.”

  “Huh.” He shrugged. “That kind of makes sense. They’re both from Canada. He could have been following her for quite a while.”

  I hadn’t thought of that, but Michael was probably right. Which made Kaci’s survival all the more miraculous, in spite of the atrocities she’d had to commit to stay alive.

  “Yeah, I guess.” I stepped backward into Marc’s embrace, surprised to realize he’d taken off his shirt. “Also, we found one of Radley’s toms. Ethan knocked him out and they’re beating some answers out of him now.” The last little bit came out as one long word, rushed in my eagerness to put a closed door between my brother and us.

  Michael frowned in confusion, then smiled when my rushed statement sank in. “Okay, thanks. Go…get some sleep.”

  Smiling, I shut the door. A moment later the front door closed as Michael left for the lodge. He wasn’t supposed to go alone, but I appreciated the gesture. Privacy was the most valuable gift one werecat could give another.

  Besides, Michael was a big boy. He could take care of himself.

  I turned to find Marc watching me, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, T-shirt forgotten on the floor. He didn’t smile; this wasn’t a happy occasion. But he didn’t look entirely unhappy, either. My gaze trailed over the dark stubble strengthening an already well-defined chin, down his neck, then his chest, where four parallel claw-mark scars marred an otherwise perfect display of granite masculinity. My hands ached to travel the same path. So I let them.

  The lovemaking that followed was slower and more deliberate than before, but no less urgent. Afterward, I fell asleep with Marc curled against my back, his scent surrounding me.

  I hadn’t slept so well in months.

  A sudden slice of light fell across my closed eyelids, rendering the darkness in a dull shade of red. I opened my eyes reluctantly, automatically searching out the alarm clock. Surely it wasn’t time for Marc to go yet.

  It wasn’t. The glowing red numbers read 5:18. We’d slept less than four hours.

  “Faythe!”

  I sat up, shoving tangled hair away from my face. A man’s silhouette stood framed by the doorway, backlit by light from the living room. The wire-thin corner of an eyeglasses frame would have told me who was there, even if the voice and scent hadn’t. Michael.

  “Is it Kaci?” My fingers found the warm expanse of Marc’s chest on the bed next to me. The steady rise and fall of his ribs said he was still sleeping, by some miracle.

  “Yes, but she’s fine. Well, no worse, anyway.” Michael shrugged, leaning on the door frame. “She’s asleep. Jace stayed at the lodge to watch her.”

  “So what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Just…weird. Dr. Carver called, and Dad told him to hop on the next flight back up here because we’ll probably need him after a raid on the strays.”

  Wow. He’d only been gone fourteen hours. Still… “You woke me up to tell me Carver’s coming back?” I grouched in a whisper. “Couldn’t that have waited until morning?”

  He shook off my complaint in barely restrained excitement. “That’s not the good part. He and Dr. Eames worked all night on Kaci’s blood, and they have the preliminary results.”

  “Already? How is that possible?” I climbed out of bed carefully to keep from jarring Marc, because I had a feelin
g I was done sleeping for the time being.

  “Well, it wouldn’t have been if they had to wait for a commercial lab to open and assign someone to it. But they did the work themselves, and they knew exactly what they were looking for.”

  My heart thumped as I followed him into the living room, my bare feet silent on the frigid hardwood. “So…she’s a stray, right?” She had to be. He wouldn’t be so excited if she were a Pride cat.

  But Michael shook his head, his smile beaming at me waaaaay too brightly for five o’clock in the morning. “She’s not a stray. But she isn’t a Pride cat, either. You’re not going to believe this. I’m not sure I believe it yet…”

  “Damn, Michael, get to the point!” I stomped past him into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffeemaker. I was too tired and anxious for his speechless disbelief. “What is she?”

  “Carver’s calling her a ‘miracle of recessive genes.’”

  “Which means what?” I set the pot beneath the faucet and flipped the cold water on. “Is she stray or Pride?”

  “Neither. Or both. I’m not sure. Dr. Carver says her blood is like nothing he’s ever seen. He was so excited I could hardly understand a word he said.”

  And it must have been catching, because I didn’t understand, either. Not a damn word coming from his mouth.

  Thirty

  “Double recessive… What does that even mean?” Malone shoved back the sleeves of his robe and crossed both arms on the long oak table. The dining room looked different with no sunlight shining through the wall of windows. It was oddly dim, in spite of the overhead light. But that sort of made sense. Most people didn’t serve meals at five-thirty in the morning.

  “Okay, I’m a lawyer, not a geneticist, so you’ll have to bear with me on this.” Michael mirrored Malone’s posture from across the table. Somehow, he managed to look professional even in green plaid pajama bottoms.

  Our father sat at the head of the table, taking up a position of authority since this discussion had nothing to do with my hearing. Uncle Rick sat on his left, followed by Paul Blackwell, then Malone. Michael and I sat opposite the Alphas.