Grave Origins

by Lori Drake

  “That’s a hurtful stereotype,” he said, but the original cast recording of Hamilton soon poured from the car’s speakers.

  Joey couldn’t complain much. It was in her library, after all. She settled in to listen, resisting the urge to sing along. If she were by herself, she’d let loose. There was a certain irony to a career performer shrinking before an audience, but her singing voice was nothing to write home about. Not even Chris had heard her sing—that she knew of, anyway.

  Maria had no such compunctions. She hummed along at first, then started singing with the chorus.

  Joey smiled, but didn’t so much as flicker an eyeball in Maria’s direction, not wanting to stop her. She had a pleasant enough singing voice, on key and clear. What was most surprising was that she knew the musical’s soundtrack at all. Then again, considering its popularity during its Broadway run, maybe it shouldn’t have been that surprising. Maria had been a hunter, not living in a cave.

  Ben’s voice soon joined Maria’s, though he favored the primary lyrics. She stuck with the chorus at first, but after a few minutes they were trading back and forth, each picking a part to play. Joey risked a glance in the rearview mirror again. The tension in Ben’s forehead, not to mention his posture, had relaxed considerably. Joey relaxed too. Letting him pick the music could’ve gone either way. She was glad it’d brought them a little closer together rather than driving them further apart.

  Joey started to hum along herself, and they soon left the city behind. She waited until what would’ve been the intermission point of the show before turning the music down, laughing as both passengers protested.

  “Sorry to interrupt your enthusiastic re-enactment, but we should talk about what happens when we get to Wenatchee,” Joey said.

  “What do you mean?” Maria asked.

  “Well, finding the pack shouldn’t be hard. Thanks to Adam, we have the Alpha’s address. But what do we want to do when we get there? I mean, it might be a good to get the lay of the land before we start digging up the past.”

  “How uncharacteristically cautious,” Ben said.

  Joey rolled her eyes. “Shut it, you. What do you think, Maria?”

  The dark-haired wolf gazed out the window for a long pause, by all appearances lost in thought. “I think getting the lay of the land would be good. You said this might not even be my birth pack—it’s just the Alpha?”

  “The last known Alpha of the Cincinnati pack, but not the one that would’ve been Alpha when you were born. I’m not sure where he is now, or how many members of this pack were around when you were born. How about we introduce ourselves as representatives of the Seattle packs—two of them, anyway—and present it as a friendly visit from neighbors? Then we can get a feel for how friendly—or not—this pack is and go from there.”

  “I hate to bring up a touchy subject, but…” Ben piped up from the back. “If you’re planning to represent the Grant pack in a formal capacity with another Alpha, you should probably run it by Sam.”

  Joey grimaced. The mention of her eldest brother brought with it a spark of annoyance. Ben wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make her like it any more. “Okay, just the Granite Falls pack, then.” Surely, Chris would be on board. The thought of running it by him flitted through her head like a passing butterfly, but didn’t quite land.

  “There’s one more thing,” Maria said, picking at a stray thread at her cuff.

  “Hm?” Joey glanced at her, taking in her reluctant expression.

  “I think I know why the pack left Cincinnati.”

  Joey lifted a brow. She’d assumed it was one of those periodic moves that packs made, such as the one that brought the Grants to Seattle. If a wolf stayed in one place too long, people started noticing they were aging remarkably slowly. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Um. Jack and I were kind of, sort of, killing them.”

  Chris had sent Itsuo a message the previous night after the Alpha meeting, asking him to drop by the house the next day. There had been no reply, and Chris had no idea if that would actually happen—Jenny’s grandfather was a loner and tended to come and go as he saw fit—so it was a pleasant surprise when he showed up an hour or so after Joey and Maria left.

  If he was at all surprised to find his Alpha elbows-deep in soapy dish water, Itsuo gave no sign.

  “Christopher-san,” he said, bowing.

  Chris flashed him a smile and tossed him a dishtowel. “Thanks for coming by. Just taking care of the things Joey would kill me for putting in the dishwasher. You can help dry.”

  Itsuo draped the towel over his shoulders and cracked a smile as he began rolling up his sleeves. “Happy wife, happy life?”

  “Exactly. Anyway, I wanted to run something by you. Have you ever encountered a wolf who was, well, losing control of his wolf side?” It was the best way Chris could think of to put it.

  “How so?”

  “There’s this new wolf in town. I’ve only encountered him twice, but both times his wolf was very close to the surface. I could feel his power in the air around him. It’s like he was leaking dominance, if that makes any sense. It felt… feral, for lack of a better word.”

  “Ah. Yes.”

  Chris paused in rinsing a sauté pan, holding his fingers under the slowly streaming hot water a little too long. He yanked his hand back with a wince, wishing Itsuo wasn’t a man of so few words. “Yes, you’ve seen that before?”

  “Yes.” Itsuo took the pan from Chris and set to drying it.

  “Is there anything we can do for him?”

  “A swift death would be merciful.”

  Chris grimaced. “Anything else?”

  Itsuo turned to hang the pan on the rack suspended from the ceiling. “Wait for his wolf to fully take control, then release him into the wild.”

  “So there’s nothing we can do to—I dunno, restore his balance?” A depressing thought, to say the least.

  “Why do you wish to? This man is a stranger to you.”

  “He’s a wolf, man. There are few enough of us around as it is. But also, it’s the right thing to do.”

  Itsuo nodded, a ponderous expression on his face as he turned back. “Meditation, perhaps. That is, assuming he himself wishes to correct the problem.”

  “Why wouldn’t he?” Chris fished around in the soapy water for the pottery mug he knew was in there somewhere. It was Joey’s favorite. Sara had smuggled it out of the lodge when they’d packed up their belongings, because she was thoughtful like that. Lucas hadn’t let Joey take anything she hadn’t taken with her the day of the challenge. Ah ha! There it was.

  “This sort of thing doesn’t happen overnight, but it also shouldn’t happen without cause.”

  Chris’s hands stilled, and he looked at the older wolf with a frown. “Are you saying that something… broke him?”

  Itsuo shrugged. “Perhaps. But it will be difficult to determine what the root of the problem is without his cooperation.”

  “Or how deep the roots go,” Chris murmured, resuming his task absently. “I suppose asking him what he wants would probably be a good idea. But I can’t say I’d be eager to play executioner if he asks for a swift end.”

  The doorbell rang, interrupting their conversation. Chris glanced over his shoulder instinctively, but he couldn’t see into the front of the house from the sink. “Is Adam still in the living room?”

  “He was when I arrived,” Itsuo replied, reaching for another pan. “Be careful, Christopher-san.”

  “Hmm?”

  “With this wolf. His condition makes him dangerous, and he might not have been harmless to begin with.”

  “I’m always careful. I’m the epitome of careful. If you look careful up in the dictionary—”

  “Hey, boss, someone’s here to see you,” Adam said from the doorway.

  Chris twisted to look behind him, dripping soapy water on the edge of the counter. Beside Adam stood an unfamiliar woman. She was of average height and curvy, with shoulder-length dark hair and green ey
es framed by thick plastic frames. She wore a fuzzy gray sweater over a white button-down and brown corduroy pants with patched knees.

  “Heya, stranger,” she said, with a smile that lit up her eyes.

  Chris stared at her in confusion. Her voice tickled at his memory, but he couldn’t reconcile it with the unfamiliar visage in front of him.

  Her smile shifted into a mischievous grin. “What, you don’t recognize me?”

  “Uh…”

  She twisted a ring off her left thumb, and her features shifted before Chris’s eyes into a much more familiar shape. Her face had lost some of its roundness since the last time he saw her, but…

  It was Emma.

  All Chris could do was stare in confusion and disbelief. Emma couldn’t be there. Emma was in prison. But she wasn’t. She was standing in front of him. Had she gotten parole? Jon hadn’t mentioned anything about a hearing. It took Joey’s mug crashing against the floor to jolt him out of his thoughts.

  “Fuck!” Chris looked down at the scattered pottery pieces and soapy water sprayed across the tile, then crouched to pick up some of the larger pieces. Joey was going to kill him. Okay, not really. But she wouldn’t be happy.

  “I’ll get the broom,” Adam said.

  “Shit, I’m sorry.” Emma hurried over and swiped the dishtowel from Itsuo, then crouched to help, sweeping up water and pottery shards with it.

  “It’s okay,” Chris said. “It’s just a mug.” Which was definitely not the approach he’d take with Joey. No, that was going to involve flowers. Maybe jewelry. He set the pieces he’d collected in the dustpan when Adam brought it over, then stood and stepped back.

  “I can take care of the rest if you wish,” Itsuo said, motioning at the sink.

  “That was the last of it, but if you and Adam can handle the cleanup…?”

  They nodded, and Chris looked at Emma and spread his arms for a more proper greeting. She hesitated only a moment before walking into them, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly.

  “You sure know how to make an entrance,” he said.

  She laughed and nodded. “I wanted to surprise you. I guess I succeeded.”

  Chris pulled away and put his hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “When did you get out? Jon didn’t mention a hearing…”

  “Not very long ago.” She glanced at Itsuo and Adam, though neither seemed to be paying them any mind. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  “Sure, sure.” Chris led her through the house to his office.

  “Nice place you’ve got here,” she said along the way. “The pictures you sent didn’t do it justice.”

  “I'm pretty pleased with the results of the renovations. It was a real wreck when I got here, but she’s got good bones. Or at least that’s what my general contractor said. Cost me a pretty penny, but it was worth it.”

  “Is Joey home? I’d love to see her.”

  “No, she left this morning. But she’ll be back in a day or two. You’ll stick around a few days at least, right?” He ushered her into the office and closed the door.

  Emma looked around the room, and Chris found himself wondering what it looked like through her eyes. It was still a little spartan when it came to decor. The walls were bare, aside from a single bookcase that contained Chris’s birth father’s journals and a few assorted knickknacks. There were two identical desks situated at right angles to one another, one for him and one for Joey. He’d opted for two both in a symbolic gesture of equality and for the very practical reason that Joey would be constantly coming along behind him and tidying/organizing his desk so that he could never find anything when he needed it.

  “Um, maybe?” She wandered over to the bookshelf to peruse its contents but didn’t touch anything.

  Chris walked to his desk and leaned against it, watching her. “You’re kidding, right? You’re always welcome in our home.”

  “That’s sweet, but I won’t be offended if you change your mind when you hear what I have to say.”

  “I fail to see how that could happen, but… if you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”

  Emma sighed and turned to face him, twisting her fingers together. “The reason Jon didn’t tell you about the hearing is that there wasn’t one.”

  Chris cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I didn’t ‘get out,’ so to speak. I got myself out.”

  A sinking feeling began to grow in Chris’s stomach. “Wait. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  She smiled faintly. “It’s difficult to keep a witch behind bars if she doesn’t want to be there.”

  “So… you’re on the lam.”

  “I didn’t want to be there anymore, so yes.”

  “Are you crazy?” Chris paused for emphasis as much as to bring his rising voice back down to a conversational level. “Your sentence was only one year, and you served damn near half of it. You should’ve been eligible for parole any day now.”

  Emma shrugged and looked away. “Or maybe I wouldn’t be. It was never a given. Anyway, I understand if you don’t want me to be here. Harboring a fugitive, and all.”

  “I… I don’t know. I’ll need to talk to Joey about it.”

  Disappointment flickered across her face, but she nodded. “Pretty sure I know how that’s going to go. But it’s okay. I just wanted to see you again before I start the next chapter of my life.”

  Joey wasn’t Emma’s biggest fan, but Chris wasn’t sure she’d be against the idea. Then again, he wasn’t sure what his own stance was. On one hand, he’d do just about anything for a friend. On the other, he had a lot more on the line now than he ever had before. He wouldn’t be risking only his own neck if he agreed. Wanting to talk to Joey was a convenient—if relevant—excuse to buy him some time to think about it.

  “At least give me a chance to talk to her about it before you take off.”

  She nodded. “I can stick around until she gets back.”

  “You’ve got somewhere to stay?” he said, hating that the implication was that she couldn’t stay there. But it had to be done.

  “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I also wanted to thank you for keeping the operation going while I was gone.”

  Emma had been running an underground railroad for runaway cultists on the dark web for years until she went to prison. She’d given Chris all the information she could to keep it going in her absence, but there had been a lot of floundering until he met Adam.

  “You’re welcome, but I can’t take all the credit. Adam’s been doing most of the work.” He pushed his fingers through his hair, gripping it at the back and sighing.

  “Is that the nerd that answered the door?”

  Chris chuckle-snorted. “Takes one to know one.”

  Emma pushed her glasses up her nose with her middle finger. “Damn right.”

  A few seconds passed in silence before Chris asked, “What changed?”

  “Huh?”

  “You said it’s hard to keep a witch behind bars if she doesn’t want to be there. So I assume you didn’t want to be there anymore. What changed?”

  “Oh, that.” She flopped in a nearby chair. “Well, at first I felt like I belonged there. Because of Cheryl, you know? It might not’ve been what I was sentenced for, but it’s what I actually felt bad about.” She sighed.

  “I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but… Cheryl’s death wasn’t your fault.” It was an old argument, and still not one he expected to win.

  “I was driving.”

  “Your car was hit with a magic bomb.”

  “One meant for me. But what I’m trying to say is I’m done wallowing. I’m ready to move on. And now that Marcus is out of the picture, I don’t have to hide from him anymore. I barely remember what that’s like.”

  Chris didn’t have the heart to point out to her that she was still on the run, just from a different adversary. She was a smart woman. She knew it. “So, what’s next for Emma Car
penter? Or Tammy Nichols? Or… whoever you are now?”

  “Dawn. Dawn Taylor.”

  Chris smiled. “Dawn. The start of a new day. I like it.”

  “Speaking of which…” She wiggled her fingers into her pocket and produced the ring again, sliding it on her thumb. The air in front of her face shimmered, and the disguise settled in place again, turning her slightly round face more oval and altering her features subtly.

  “Neat trick.”

  “Thanks. You’ve still got my necklace, right?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Chris pushed off the desk and headed for the safe in the closet. It was fireproof, tamperproof, supposedly everything-proof. The cost had been significant, but worth it. He dialed the combination and pressed his thumb to the scanner. The combination of mechanical and electronic security measures made it that much more secure. Or, at least, that was what the salesman had assured him.

  The envelope containing Emma’s—or rather Dawn’s—spelled necklace was tucked away in a document folder along with important paperwork like the deed for the house, wills, birth certificates, and the like. While he tugged open the elastic cord holding the outer flap closed, his eyes fell on the stack of emergency cash sitting on one of the shelves. On impulse, he stuffed five hundred bucks in the envelope with Dawn’s necklace.

  Dawn’s brow furrowed when he handed her the envelope that obviously contained more than a necklace. She peeked inside and frowned. “Chris—”

  “Just take it, okay?”

  “I don’t know when I’ll be able to repay you.” Were those tears in her eyes?

  “I don’t loan money to friends. Consider it a gift.”

  “It’s too much.”

  He shrugged. “It’s only money.”

  A knock on the door kept her from protesting further—at least for now.

  “Come in,” Chris called, for once grateful for an interruption.

  The door opened enough for Adam to pop his head in. “Sorry to interrupt your reunion, but the cops are here.”

  7

  Joey stared at Maria a little too long. The car drifted too far to the right, hitting the warning ridges along the shoulder. She jerked the wheel left again, adjusting her lane position.