by Aliya DalRae
“No,” he slowly shook his head. “Not bullshit. You are amazing, Jessica. I watched you, day after day, just being you. You’re strong and brilliant. Talented and beautiful. And you are brave, so incredibly brave.
“When you and Raven started…well, when you two got together, it nearly broke me. He loves you. I get that, and I know you care about him too. But I thought, if you knew me—human me—you would have a choice. You would see that I’m a good man, a better option, and maybe…maybe you could love me, too…” His voice trailed off and he stared at his hands.
“So you manipulated my feelings based on inside information,” I accused.
“No. Maybe. Damn it, Jessica, you saved my life. You made me want to be a man again. Human. You made me want to live, to prove that I was worthy of something more than the life I chose when I lost my family.”
“Well, you’ve got a really messed up way of going about it,” I sighed, a tiny crack forming in my righteous wall of rage.
“I came here last night to confess,” Malcolm said. “I was going to come clean, tell you everything I knew. When I said I lost my job? That was also the truth. I confronted the wolves, told them I didn’t want to spy on you anymore, and they told me that was fine, but if I went near you again, I’d better have my headstone picked out.”
“What?” I cried, incredulity temporarily overriding my anger.
“Yeah, well, there’s still a lot you don’t know, and I hoped that maybe coming from me, maybe you would be able to forgive me for the spying thing.” He looked at me expectantly.
“Okay, so how did ‘coming clean’ turn into, well…?” I cleared my throat. “How did it turn into what happened last night?”
His eyes softened, and the pain was there, the guilt, but a spark of emerald fire glimmered as well. “Was it really so awful?” he asked, and I blushed. No, it wasn’t. Not even in the same zip code as awful. But I didn’t tell him that.
“You still haven’t told me why,” I said instead. “Why would the wolves even know who I am?”
Malcolm watched me for a moment, silent, and I held his gaze defiantly. He seemed to be struggling with some internal dialog, deciding how much he wanted to tell me, I supposed. After a while, he looked as though he had come to some sort of conclusion.
“It would be better for me to show you,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Will you trust me?” I thought about it. Hadn’t I always felt safe with him? Hadn’t I trusted him, even though he was “just a cat” to protect me and take care of me? I’d known on some level that he would always be there for me, would never let anything happen to me. He was so sincere, and as angry as I was, I was even more curious as to why the wolves had hired him to spy on me.
Deciding, I nodded, and he held out his hand to me. I ignored it, but stood up, and he followed suit. He led me to his car and opened the passenger door for me. “Where are we going?” I grumped, but I got in the car.
“To get your answers,” he said, and he closed the door.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
“I want answers!” Raven’s fists connected with the solid oak of the conference table. He leaned toward the elderly physician, eyes sparking madly, causing his former guardian to cringe under the violent tirade.
“We all do,” Mason said calmly from his usual seat at the head of the table, “and this would go a lot more smoothly if you would sit down, Raven. Scaring the good doctor to death isn’t going to speed things along at all.”
For his part, the doctor sat shaking in a seat next to Mason, who obviously knew what was going on—Harrier would have kept him updated. For whatever reason the Warlord hadn’t felt it necessary to share what he knew with the class, and this frustrated Raven to no end. This was his life they were screwing with, and he had the right to know what happened, as it happened.
Still, it wasn’t Allon’s fault. Taking a deep breath, Raven sat, the cushioning of the leather office chair releasing a puff of air under the sudden weight. Raven inhaled once more, exhaled, and tried to rein in the beast his anger so often encouraged lately. As his fury calmed, his eyes returned to normal, and he was able to truly see the old man sitting before him.
He looked smaller than Raven remembered, more fragile somehow, but Christ, how long had it been? Centuries, certainly. Raven was less than twenty when he left this man’s care to seek his revenge on the humans who had ruined his family, his life. Allon had been old then. If he wasn’t a thousand years old, Raven was a mushroom.
“Allon, would you be so kind as to tell us your story,” Mason urged when it was clear that Raven’s rantings were under control.
“It was so long ago,” Allon said, eyes downcast, his hands folded in his lap. “In 1443, I was one of a group of physicians serving London’s Primeval. It was at this time that the Seer, Victoria, had a vision. It was foretold that a child would be born who would single-handedly annihilate everything Vampire civilization had strived to accomplish. This child would be born to parents of middle means, though they were active in the Primeval’s Court in some way. The Seer was adamant that this child be done away with or all would be lost.
“Needless to say, the Courts were searched high and low. Every couple who was expecting a child was brought before Victoria for her to confirm or deny that theirs would be the monster child. This was a very ugly period for our territory. When word came that pregnant couples were being hunted and examined, some tried to flee. If caught, their entire families were executed, accused of treason against the race. So many deaths…” Allon’s voice trailed off, and for a moment he was silent, reliving this horrible past.
“Of course these Vampires and the children the females carried all died in vain. The mother in Victoria’s vision had been working in the laundry. She didn’t even know she was pregnant until weeks after the search had begun. Of course when she found out, she was terrified and tried to hide the pregnancy. Unfortunately, she became overheated at her work and passed out from exhaustion, which brought her to my attention. It was discovered at that point that she was with child.”
Rheumy grey eyes sparked obsidian, then settled back into their natural state.
“There was nothing I could do. I had to tell the Primeval about the pregnancy, otherwise the mother, the father, and of course I, would have been executed. I hated what was transpiring amongst our people, but really, what could I have done?
“When the couple was brought before Victoria, she immediately confirmed that this woman was carrying the death of our race. The parents were then shackled and hauled off to the dungeons to await the decision of the Court.”
Allon shifted in his seat, as though he were hesitant to continue. A glance around the room told Raven he wasn’t the only one leaning closer to the male, completely engrossed in the tale. When he spoke again, Allon sought Raven’s eyes for the first time since entering the room.
“I begged them,” he said, “pleaded with the Primeval not to put this woman to death. I suggested, would it not make more sense to let her deliver the child, and surrender him to the Primeval, where he could be watched, trained, controlled. It seemed more humane than the alternative, and truly I felt guilty for being the one to bring this poor young couple to the Primeval’s attention.
“Somehow, I don’t know how, I was taken seriously. The Primeval decided that it would, indeed, be beneficial to the race to study this child rather than waste the opportunity. It was also pronounced that I would be the doctor to care for the female throughout her pregnancy. I was to take the couple away, they didn’t care where, stay with them through the birth, and return the child to the Primeval within three days after delivery.
“My instructions were clear, and I hated myself for the part I would play in tearing this family apart. I never imagined what would transpire, nor the decisions I would be required to make.”
Chapter Seventy-Eight
W e rode in silence for a little while, me still grumpy and Malcolm most likely keeping his m
outh shut to avoid digging himself in any further. He’d screwed up big time, and he knew it. But after about five minutes of uncomfortable quiet, he tried to make conversation.
“I am sorry, Jess.” I turned my body as far away from him as the seatbelt would allow, and continued to stare out the window. “Would you please look at me?” I expressed an exaggerated sigh and turned my head to glare at him. “I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be…”
“You think?”
“I know, but if you could…try and keep an open mind?”
An open mind? He spied on me, as a cat. Slept with me, watched me dress, eat, sleep—OMG he’d seen me shower. Crimony. I didn’t even want to think about what he’d seen me and Raven do.
All of this, he reported to some creepy-ass pack of wolves who were interested in me for some strange, nefarious reason, and he wants me to keep an open mind? He wasn’t crazy, he was certifiable.
So in response I went with more glaring.
Malcolm inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and repeated the process. I returned my eyes to the countryside rolling by my window. We were headed north, would be in Fallen Cross proper soon.
“Tell me about your childhood,” Malcolm said quietly, surprising me into an answer.
“What about it?” I asked. “I was a kid, I grew up. End of story.”
“What about before the Sweets adopted you?”
I was so taken aback by this conversational detour, I actually turned around to stare at his profile as he drove.
“That’s not something I care to discuss with you.”
Of course I knew exactly what he was talking about. That shit’s not something easily forgotten, no matter how much better things got.
My parents, if you could call them that, were fine up until dear old dad disappeared, leaving my mother a holy freaking mess. She spent months and months looking for him, beyond when the police had filed it away as a cold case, telling her he had obviously up and left us. There was no sign of foul play, no evidence that he had met with a bad end. He’d just left, and she needed to accept that and move on.
So she did. She moved on with drugs, alcohol, anything she could find to dull the pain, and that left me at the ripe old age of five, to fend for myself. Then one day she pulled a disappearing act of her own. Enter CPS, a foster family or two, and finally and most incredibly, Geoffrey and Isabelle Sweet, where I lived happily ever after, the end. At least until their recent deaths, at which point my whole life turned upside down, what with Vampires, Sorcerers and spying asshole cats.
But I wasn’t about to tell him all that. Besides, I think he was aware by now that he was an asshole.
I turned back to the window and noticed we were already heading out of town. Fallen Cross—don’t blink, you’ll miss it.
We continued heading north, eventually entering the forest where I’d been told the Werewolves lived. I thought about Allie, wondered if she was okay. I thought about her mother, and how rude the woman had been to me at the Polar King. If they were all like her, it was only a matter of time before they ruined Allie, and that thought did nothing to lighten my mood.
Malcolm had fallen silent again. I was thankful that he didn’t press for more of an answer to his question, but I could feel his tension mounting the farther into the woods we drove. He slowed down briefly before taking a sudden right turn at a hidden intersection. It was either a very poorly maintained road or a very long driveway, and the ruts and potholes did a number on the suspension of Malcolm’s fancy car, bouncing us both unmercifully, regardless of how careful Malcolm was in his driving.
The lane opened up into a huge clearing. It had to be huge to hold the log cabin that stood before us. It was more like a log castle, if you can imagine such a thing. Two stories, at least, with a wide covered porch across the entire front face.
The back of the cabin was nestled against the forest, where giant oak and elm trees rustled their brightly colored leaves in the slight breeze. The autumn sun was shining through the branches, and an old pick-up truck was parked to the side, giving the scene a quaint Terry Redlin feel. All it needed was some ducks or—oh! Cue the dogs.
Malcolm was at my side of the car, holding the door open for me, and when I stepped out I saw them. Two enormous dogs, or wolves, I supposed, off to the side of the cabin. They didn’t bark, didn’t move. Just stood with their heads lowered, hackles up, watching us.
I glanced at Malcolm, but he looked resigned, and when he offered me his hand I was so rattled I took it. It was occurring to me that this was probably a bad idea.
“Where exactly are we?” I whispered as he led me to the porch and the front door.
“It’s the Alpha’s place,” Malcolm replied quietly.
“Are you sure we should be here?” I squeaked. We were at the porch steps and a bunch more wolves had formed a half-circle behind us, triggering my flight instincts.
“You wanted answers. They’re waiting inside.” When I hesitated again, he added, “If you want to go I’ll give you the keys.”
What? Why would he not go with me?
The wolves were slowly closing in, a particularly large one lifting its lips in a terrifying snarl, and I was frozen where I stood. Malcolm made the decision for us, pulling me up the three steps and across the porch.
Before we could knock, the front door was flung wide, and a huge man stood in front of us. He was at least six-two, with wild hair, a full scruffy beard and a red flannel shirt that made him appear every bit the lumberjack. He looked at Malcolm like he would eat him for lunch, but when his eyes settled on me he seemed to forget whatever injury he’d been planning for their unexpected guests.
Malcolm took advantage of the lumberjack’s hesitation and pulled me past the man and through the front door. We crossed a large open room where we dodged some bulky, rustic furniture, then on to an open doorway at the opposite side of the house. Without knocking, he rushed us both inside, and slammed the door right in the lumberjack’s face.
That’s when my world shifted on its axis.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
H arrier paced the length of the Citation, his current anxiety levels surpassing anything he’d ever experienced, even as a child.
The plane was currently parked inside a large hangar at a private airfield outside of Detroit, Michigan, hopefully the last stop in his whirlwind trip around the world before heading home.
The person he’d come to collect was far easier to find than Raven’s doctor had been. A few details supplied to Merlin, and Harrier had all he needed.
The difficulty had been in making the call.
When the car pulled into the hangar, well out of the noonday sun, Harrier halted his pacing and turned to watch. The rear door opened and she stepped out. Lifting a hand to her brow, she shaded her eyes from the brightness that assaulted her as she left the darkness of the lightproof vehicle.
It had been centuries, quite literally, since he’d last laid eyes on Rachel, but her image was burned into his mind’s eye as though he had seen her just yesterday. She hadn’t changed a bit.
Tall, stunning, with a wild mane of red hair that framed her delicate face, and fierce green eyes that took in everything even as her focus remained solely on Harrier. She looked elegant in a cream suit with a matching hat that shielded her eyes from the residual sunlight.
Gods, he’d missed her.
“Harrier,” she said, her first step toward him hesitant, but each subsequent stride gaining speed until she was running, at last, into his arms. Harrier hesitated, but the sound of her sobs had him wrapping his arms around her in return as he swallowed an unfamiliar lump that had formed in the back of his throat.
Why had he waited so long?
Reluctantly, Harrier disentangled himself from her, and held her at arm’s length, so he could look at her properly. There was so much they needed to discuss, so many questions he was certain she could answer, but for now, for this moment, it was nice to see her and to be seen.
&nbs
p; “You haven’t changed at all,” Rachel said, the Scottish accent rich and warm to his ears.
“Aye, nor ha’ you,” he replied, forgetting himself. “Ye’re as bonnie as the day I left.”
“Stop it,” she replied, laughing as she wiped the tears from beneath her eyes. “I nearly fainted when I heard your voice on the line. Couldn’t believe my own ears. It’s been too long, brother.”
“It has,” he replied. “That it has.”
“Nice wings ye have here,” she indicated the Citation as she turned to wrap an arm around his waist. “But I recall being partial to the originals.”
Harrier grunted. “Those aren’t seeing the air as much as I’d like,” he said and Rachel frowned.
“Don’t tell me the Legion is forcing you to hide your true nature.”
Harrier smiled. She was so protective of him, even though he was years her senior. It had been Rachel who had tried to keep them together, the two of them and their youngest sister, Rebecca. Not her fault their mother had other plans.
“No,” Harrier said. “Nothing like that. Not much call for it, is all.”
She nodded as though that made sense, but he could tell she wasn’t happy.
“Well, I don’t suppose you went to all this bother to find me so we could stand out in the daylight and talk about old times.”
“You know me too well, sister.”
“You never were one for small talk.”
“I need your help,” Harrier said, turning them to the plane and walking her toward the steps.
“What can I do?”
“Fancy a little trip?” he asked.
“I’ll not let you out of my sight so easily again.”
Chapter Eighty
T he room was spacious, open like the one we had just raced through, with a large fireplace complete with roaring fire, oversized comfortable sofas, and a huge mahogany desk. A petite woman sat on one of the sofas, a piece of needlework lying forgotten in her lap as she gawked open-mouthed at me. She had reddish hair in a long, thick braid, the beautiful kind of red that you can only get naturally, never from a bottle. I knew her, but before her identity could register, someone screamed, and I felt the impact a moment later.
