Howl of the Sequoia (Secrets of the Sequoia Book 1)

by Deidre Huesmann

  The worst part was that it didn’t even feel good. Not an ounce of relief touched her; not an iota of peace traded for her tears. Her nose clogged and ran simultaneously, her head throbbed, and her face was feverishly hot.

  Somebody sat beside her and pulled her close. Rachael didn’t recognize the soft embrace, but she clung back until she was simply too exhausted to cry anymore.

  The hand that offered her a napkin and helped wipe at her face had long, elegant fingers and canary-yellow nails. Rachael slowly recognized the person as First Chair Vera.

  Looking as sad as Rachael felt, Vera said gently, “I heard what happened.”

  The embrace was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Rachael pulled away. “Everyone did,” she mumbled.

  “Everyone also knows Coleen’s a liar,” said Vera. “The difference is some of us care. Like Holden and Jackson. And me.”

  Rachael curled up, resting her forehead on her knees. “She’s not a complete liar.”

  “Don’t say that!” The offense ran deep in Vera’s typically lyrical voice. “Don’t you ever let her call you those things again. Ever.”

  Blinking, Rachael raised her head. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she could just as easily have been crying over Coleen’s personal insults. Slowly, she said, “Not that. My mom.”

  “Oh.” Vera’s face scrunched in a frown. “Jackson told me a little about that.” She lifted her hand and moved as though to hug her again, thought better of it, and rested her palm against Rachael’s forearm. “I don’t know what that’s like. I’m sorry.”

  The few times Rachael had heard those words, they sounded hollow and empty. From Vera, it came off as genuine if awkward. It made Rachael tear up again.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered. Talking about her mother’s disease seemed taboo, but once she started it was difficult to stop. “She’s so wonderful. She doesn’t deserve this. Every time I go home she’s always in bed or resting and she used to have so much more energy and go out with me and we’d go hiking and camping and find birds and animals and she’s supposed to be there until I get old and maybe have kids and I don’t want her to leave me.”

  This time Vera didn’t hesitate to hug her. As she stroked Rachael’s hair, she murmured, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” over and over.

  Hiccupping, Rachael dissolved into her comforting aura. In stark contrast to her wailing fit just minutes ago, a sweet peace swathed her like a fuzzy old blanket. It still seemed like nobody really understood . . . but somebody did care. That somebody right now was Vera, and she kept petting her and whispering soothing words while Rachael felt her worst.

  When Vera pulled away, she kept her hands on Rachael’s shoulder, forcing their eyes to meet. “I’ll go tell Jackson to take you home now. Is that okay?” She waited for Rachael to nod before continuing. “You worry about yourself. Let me worry about Coleen.”

  Vera going up against Coleen seemed like a bunny trying to wage war against a hippopotamus. Shaking her head in disbelief, Rachael said, “How?”

  Rather than answer immediately, Vera stood and offered a hand to help her up. Rachael accepted and stood. As she dusted off the back of her jeans, Vera said, “The best thing about being popular isn’t the boys and parties, you know.”

  The abrupt change of topic took Rachael aback. All she could do was shake her head. What did popularity have to do with any of today’s events—aside from Coleen automatically having the upper hand?

  At her confusion, Vera flashed her best crooked-tooth smile. “The correct answer is: the best thing is helping your friends.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The door of the Lexus had barely slammed shut before Holden demanded, “Where is he?”

  Aaron met his gaze, his expression betraying nothing. “Not here.”

  Not good enough. He was in no mood for games, whether it came from his leader or not. His voice rising, Holden shouted, “Where is that blood-thirsty bastard?”

  They were still parked in front of the school, so Aaron couldn’t strike him if he’d wanted to. The black-ice stare he pinned Holden with was telling enough. Even though Holden had known him for decades, he couldn’t stop the shiver that ran up his spine.

  Tightly, Aaron said, “If you must insult my brother, use something appropriate to his situation and less uncouth.”

  Clenching his fists, it took all Holden had to keep from screaming. Instead he leaned rigidly into his seat and took a few deep breaths. While he calmed himself, Aaron started the otherwise empty car.

  It took some time for his rage to subside to simple anger. As the red faded from his immediate vision, Holden tried again. “Do you have any idea what he did?”

  The only betrayal of Aaron’s mood was his double-tap on the steering wheel with his forefinger. “Yes,” he said.

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  Aaron gave an unsympathetic shrug. “What do you expect me to do?”

  The memory of his mother swimming in a pool of her own insides was enough to spike Holden’s fury again. “Stop letting him get away with it! If we’re a ‘family’ and a ‘pack’ then he shouldn’t get any preferential treatment!”

  When Aaron had to craft a careful answer, he often went mute for elongated ticks in time. Holden couldn’t get over the fear and power Aaron still wielded over him, but he did have enough experience to calm himself instead of getting heated over the silences. His jaw tense, he stared out the passenger side window.

  They were nearly back to their new home before Aaron said coolly, “Nathan spent the entire afternoon saving the day.”

  Incredulous, Holden twisted to scowl at his superior. “By attacking Rachael?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then what?”

  Aaron’s dark gaze shifted his way, the corner of his mouth pulling in something that nearly resembled a smirk. “He was an excellent character witness.”

  By the time Aaron parked the car, Holden believed he had grasped the situation. He remained seated, looking at the dashboard even as the car turned off and began to settle. He felt Aaron’s eyes on him, but the man made no move to leave.

  Slowly, Holden said, “He attacked them and told someone he saw a wolf do the whole thing.”

  “Mm,” was Aaron’s noncommittal reply.

  “Which makes sense because we live nearby.”

  “Does it not?”

  Holden ignored him. “Which means you made damn sure anything that could have gone wrong would still work out in Rachael’s favor.”

  In his periphery, Aaron cocked his head to the side. “I would believe she could use the help.”

  “Why?”

  That was the only part that didn’t make sense. Typically, when Aaron found somebody he believed may be a good fit for the pack, he allowed the mitigating circumstances to come to a head on their own. Occasionally, if the situation seemed especially dire, he would prod a few things along. Since he’d seemed so quickly and suspiciously fond of Rachael, Holden had assumed the latter.

  More often than not, these situations resolved in a manner that required no interference from the lycans. Eventually Aaron would pack everyone up and move on. Keeping a keen lookout for such situations was the biggest reason they moved so often, with their notably slow aging process a close second.

  But for Aaron to act and try to prevent the potential for changing a human to a lycan, should they consent, was nothing short of bizarre.

  Heat flushed through Holden’s body until he tingled. Almost snarling, he said, “You don’t actually care about her.”

  “I care about every person we observe for the change,” Aaron pointed out. “There is no point inviting a person into the pack who does not have an ally in at least the superior.”

  That was a blatant dig at Holden, but the teenager managed to ignore it for the moment. “No. This is different.”

  Slowly raising an eyebrow, an equally slow and capricious smile spread across Aaron’s face. “Are you attached to Ms. A
dair so suddenly?”

  “Quit changing the subject!”

  “It would make a transition that much easier if she was fond of more than one of us, to an extent,” Aaron mused. “And she seems to already like Nathan.”

  “Shut up.”

  “What do you think?” It was a bald-faced tactic, taunting him, and Aaron knew it. He persisted in his meticulously enunciated manner. “Would she be better off with three friends in the pack instead of just one? How does helping her adjust to her new lycan life sound do you?”

  Holden lunged across the driver console, his fingers outstretched to claw at those opaque, fathomless eyes. Aaron’s eyes narrowed; in the same instant he caught Holden’s wrist and twisted, yanking his arm between the seats. Holden attempted to twist backward so he wasn’t in a pretzel position, but Aaron gripped him by the forehead in mid-turn and yanked backward until Holden’s head bumped his leader’s chest. Before he could pull away, Aaron had his arm around Holden’s neck, effectively strangling and pinning him at the same time. Holden still had a hand free, but clawing over his shoulder did very little when Aaron responded by biting him.

  He wasn’t hurt, but Holden’s ego had taken another beating. Yet again, the fight was over before it really started.

  Once he stopped struggling, Aaron asked if he was quite finished. The stranglehold barely allowed him to breath, much less speak or nod, so Holden sagged in resentment. He counted eight of Aaron’s strong, slow heartbeats before he was released.

  Holden dragged in a few breaths of the car’s stuffy air before opening his door. He heard his alpha follow suit. The two stood on either side of the car, watching each other for signs of any sudden moves.

  “What changed your mind?” This time Aaron wasn’t taunting him. The question was methodical and demanding.

  Slumping inwardly, Holden replied, “She’s a good person. She doesn’t deserve the life you want to offer.”

  “Really.” Aaron folded his arms over his crisp white shirt. “Your initial impression seemed to be that she was stubborn and stupid.”

  “She’s stubborn,” Holden halfway conceded. Not in the classic sense, to be sure, but Rachael had proved a particular trait for being unshakeable throughout the day.

  Clearly impatient, Aaron repeated, “What else changed?”

  Unable to compose an appropriate response, Holden could only shake his head.

  Aaron closed his eyes in a moment of careful contemplation. When he opened them again, he said firmly, “It would do you well to be less self-centered and recall that you are not the only one in this pack who grieves the loss of family.”

  “What would you know, you still have Nathan,” Holden shot back.

  “Nathan is my family,” agreed Aaron. Before Holden had a chance to form a sarcastic comeback, the man ruthlessly continued, “So is Roxi. And so are you. Lest you forget, you chose to join us. You were fortunate enough to survive the ordeal, rare as it is.”

  Holden pressed his lips tight and said nothing.

  With a roll of his eyes, Aaron said heavily, “Unfortunately, I lack the time to constantly nurse your wounded ego and regret.”

  “What’s so damn important now?” Holden sneered.

  The smile he received was the antonym of nice. “Your self-absorption has already led you to forget two in our own family are keeping enormous, potentially dangerous secrets? I am even more disappointed in you.”

  Sharpness edged his voice. “Most people have secrets. Why can’t we?”

  Aaron’s already dark features blackened. “We are lycan, not human. I suggest you commit that to memory before it gets you killed.”

  He should have let it drop there as Aaron turned to leave, but Holden was sick of keeping himself in check. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

  “A fair warning,” was all his inglorious leader deigned to throw over his shoulder.

  More than anything, Holden hated when Aaron had to have the last word. Distantly, he realized it was hypocritical to hate him for that, but it was an anger he could nurture amidst the confusion the man had caused him.

  It bothered Holden that he could not definitely say he wasn’t attached to Rachael. She was not the first person—or girl, even—Aaron had told him to follow and befriend. But she was certainly the first he had grown to like, and in a huge way that was worse than possessing nothing more than simple apathy toward her.

  He’d meant what he said; that Rachael deserved better than what Aaron was trying to offer her. Most people did, he supposed, but Rachael especially. Holden knew what it was like for life fall apart piece by piece, how the allure of a completely different existence could seem tempting. But he also knew it wasn’t worth it, and that Rachael, despite her apparent depression, was too attached to her world to disagree.

  It took a very particular type of person to handle being a werewolf. Aaron was such a person; arguably, so were Roxi and Nathan. Over the years Holden had come to accept he was not, and it was for similar reasons he was certain Rachael would ultimately reject such an existence. Knowing you were a monster, so far a cry from human, was difficult to wrap your brain around.

  But Aaron was going to expose her to their world anyway.

  Holden vented a fraction of his frustrations by kicking one of the Lexus’s pricey tires. A few more kicks left scuff marks on the tread. A dozen more helped him feel marginally better.

  Irate that property damage was the only revenge he could safely exact, Holden stalked out and closed the garage. Even as he meandered toward the house, trying to think of what to do for dinner, his thoughts bounced back to Rachael, her tentative smile, and her sad grey eyes.

  He only had days before Rachael’s exposure. Holden had to find a way to obey his superior and still keep Rachael’s friendship. The problem was he had no idea where to start.

  Chapter Twelve

  Being grounded for the duration of her detention sentence only surprised Rachael because it seemed awfully short. Obviously somebody had called her father and told him at least one version of the day’s events, since he handed down her punishment the moment she walked through the front door. Still, a week seemed lenient.

  Even stranger was the next day in Mr. Selby’s office. In weary tones, her principal informed her that no further punishment was required. When asked, he admitted a witness had come forward, though he declined to elaborate. By the time Rachael made it to lunch her mind was muddled with equal parts confusion and exhaustion.

  As she traded her books for a sack lunch of a Swiss cheese and turkey sandwich and fruit salad, Vera caught up with her. “Do you want to have lunch with us?” she chirped.

  Taken aback, Rachael closed her locker and turned to face her. “Us?”

  Vera’s eyes brightened to match her dazzling smile. “Me and the girls. I’d love for you to meet my friends. The nice ones, this time.”

  The offer actually sounded all right. If nothing else, it would give her something else to think about. “As long as no wolves attack, sure,” she said.

  Beaming, Vera let her know they would be sitting at one of the tables on the far right of the cafeteria. She seemed disproportionately giddy as she bounced off. A smile tugged Rachael’s lips.

  Halfway to the cafeteria, somebody grabbed her arm. Rachael turned to face Holden. “Hi.”

  “Hey. Look, can we talk?”

  Regretfully, she shook her head. “Not now. I promised Vera I’d eat with her.”

  “Oh.” The abrupt change in his expression was heartbreaking.

  A pang that wasn’t quite guilt struck Rachael in the chest. In an effort to mask it, she teased, “You can take my place if you want to hang out with Vera that badly.”

  His eyes remained bleak, but a ghost of a smile turned the corners of his mouth. “Tempting. But no thanks.”

  Perhaps what he wanted was more serious than Rachael had anticipated. Tentatively, she said, “We can have lunch next time, if you want.”

  The bleak smile made him look more like a
kicked puppy than a person. “That’ll be Monday. It may be too late.”

  Rachael shifted nervously. Since she was grounded through the weekend, she couldn’t come up with another solution on such short notice. What made her more uncomfortable was the not-so-subtle hint that whatever he had to say was time-sensitive.

  Then it dawned on her. She looked around to be sure they weren’t being spied on before saying in a hushed voice, “Is this about Aaron?”

  Holden’s mouth pulled into a tight, thin line. Rather than answer, he said, “I just want you to know I do think of you as a friend. And I’m sorry if I crossed a line when I told Mrs. Whitley what really happened.”

  In the whirlwind of events since then, Rachael had almost forgotten. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  She shook her head. “I understand. I’d do the same for my friend. For you. I mean, you’re my friend, too,” she babbled, increasingly aware she sounded like an idiot.

  If Holden thought so, he gave no indication. Without warning, he enveloped her in a quick, fierce hug. By the time it crossed Rachael’s mind to react—to return the hug, say something, anything—he turned on his heel and left.

  Dazed and even more confused, Rachael completed her trek to the lunch room. A warm sensation gradually rinsed over her as his actions sunk in. Holden was her friend. He looked out for her now, actually tried to talk to her about important things, and generally made her feel closer to her normal, pre-tragedy self. Even if he left in a year or two, maybe she could afford to let him into her life.

  The distant chatter of the cafeteria swelled to a din. Crossing the threshold was akin to returning to a foreign land she had vacationed in long ago. Everything was just as she remembered; the line to the school-sponsored food was long, with steel-and-wood benches stretching from one end to the other. Students milled about, some laughing, some in the midst of heated arguments, and others content to shovel food into their mouths as though it were their last meal.

  The aroma was intoxicating. Pepperoni pizza and macaroni and cheese appeared to be the main meals. Even as she looked, two of her peers were having a heated argument over what apparently was the last carton of chocolate milk.