by TJ Klune
He kissed me.
I closed my eyes.
And here, at last, I followed the wolfsong and found my way home.
break
We should have seen it coming.
Some days, he smiled.
Some days, he laughed.
Some days, he looked alive, his eyes bright and shining.
But there were nights too, nights I’d hear Kelly climb out of bed. I’d listen as he went down the stairs onto the porch, where his brother waited.
I didn’t want to listen.
I couldn’t stop myself.
Kelly spoke.
He said, “Hold on to me.”
He said, “As tightly as you can.”
He said, “I know it hurts.”
He said, “I know what it feels like.”
He said, “But we’ll find him.”
He said, “We’ll find him and bring him home.”
Carter never spoke, but I could feel the sharpness of it along the bonds, though he tried to keep it from us. In these moments, alone with his brother, with his tether, he allowed himself to grieve.
Those nights were few and far between.
We thought he was getting better.
We thought he, like the rest of us, was recovering.
It was the beginning of December before we realized how wrong we were.
It was a Friday, and Gordo was demanding to know why I’d thrown up Christmas all over his garage.
I waited until he was done ranting and raving. I was used to it. He would get all riled up and have a good snit and then would deflate and let me do whatever I wanted.
I just had to wait it out.
“I am drawing the line at the inflatable waving snowman,” he growled at me. “I don’t even want to know how the hell you got it on the roof, but I want it taken down now.”
“Tanner and Chris helped me,” I said, throwing them under the bus without a care in the world.
I ignored their shouts at my betrayal. Outside, flurries fell with the promise of more on the way. We were supposed to get at least eight inches overnight, something that Rico had immediately made dirty to all who would listen until Bambi told him he was going to get eight inches again if he didn’t shut up. He’d closed his mouth immediately. I really didn’t want to know. But Rico was pretty much wrapped around Bambi’s finger, especially now that he’d figured out what that strange smell around her was. They were in the break room, and he was massaging her feet, telling her he was going to be the best daddy, just you wait and see, he was going to rock this shit.
I thought he would too.
But he wasn’t here to save me from Gordo’s wrath.
I had to face it on my own.
“It makes us look more festive,” I countered. “More inviting. Gets more business. As your office manager—”
“That’s not a thing.”
“As your office manager, I made an executive decision in order to brighten the place up. Speaking of, I want to talk to you about painting next year, both interior and exterior.”
Gordo scowled at me as he crossed his arms. “No. And in case you need reminding, we’re the only garage within thirty miles. People come here because they don’t have a choice.”
I snorted. “Jesus. How the hell did you ever survive without me?”
His expression softened, and I knew I had him. “That’s….” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you playing me?”
Goddammit. “Uh. No? I’m just reminding you that last Christmas, I was alone in Maine with your father while the rest of you were here, and how sad I was, even though I didn’t remember any of you, and it’s just so heartbreaking to think—”
He threw up his hands. Well, one hand at least. “Fine. But no more.”
“Maybe a little more,” I countered. “I found these lights in the attic of the house. They blink. I’m going to hang them around the front.”
“No.”
“Gordo. So sad. So alone.”
“Ox!” he yelled. “Do your Alpha thing and make him stop!”
“Can’t!” Ox called back. “I promised myself to never use my power for evil!”
I grinned at Gordo. “See? You lose. And while I’m at it, I want to talk to you about the office Christmas party we’re going to have.”
“The office what?”
“We’ll—”
And it hit us.
Glass shattering in our chests.
Gordo grimaced, the raven folding its wings, the roses shriveling.
I gasped, bending over the desk, claws digging into the wood.
Rico snarled even as Bambi asked him what was wrong.
“What the fuck?” I muttered. “What the hell was that?” I blinked rapidly, trying to understand the wave of blue that washed over me.
Ox burst through the doorway, eyes red and violet. The others were close behind him.
“Home,” he growled. “We have to get home. Something’s wrong.”
Kelly pulled in front of us as we were leaving the garage, the bar on top of his cruiser lit up, siren wailing. Ox was on the phone with Joe as Gordo drove, the others in a truck behind us. Ox was saying, “You felt it, he wouldn’t, no, please tell me he wouldn’t, is he—”
The snow was falling harder by the time we reached the house at the end of the lane.
Kelly had barely put the car in park before he jumped out and ran toward the house, the rest of us on his heels.
We followed the sound of a breaking heart to the office.
Elizabeth Bennett stood in front of her husband’s old desk, hand over her mouth, eyes wet. In her other hand was a piece of paper.
She looked up at us as Joe roared and punched a hole in the wall. Mark was looking off into nothing, his mouth in a thin line.
“What is it?” Kelly demanded. “Where’s Carter, why can’t I feel him, what happened, what happened, what—”
She dropped her hand. She whispered, “He’s gone.”
Joe slumped against the wall, sliding down to the floor, face in his hands.
“No,” Kelly said, stepping forward. “No, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t leave, he wouldn’t do that to me, he wouldn’t—”
Elizabeth held up the paper in her hand.
Kelly didn’t take it, a haunted look on his face.
Ox moved around him. He took the paper from Elizabeth even as Jessie burst into the house, breathless. “What happened?” she asked as she pushed her way into the office. “Is something coming? Are we under attack?”
“It’s Carter,” Rico muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “He left.”
We all looked to Ox. He was staring down at the paper in his hands, eyes darting back and forth. He was pale when he looked back up at us. “He’s gone after Gavin. He says he’s sorry, but he has to do this. He has to find him.” He swallowed thickly. “And that he was going to cut himself off from us. From the pack. He doesn’t want anyone coming after him. He doesn’t want anyone else getting hurt.”
“No,” Kelly said, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t do that to me.” Anger like I’d never felt from him before filled his voice, tinged with the deepest blue. “He wouldn’t. I’m his brother. I’m his tether. He wouldn’t—” His voice broke.
“There’s a message for you,” Elizabeth said quietly as she cried. “He made a video.”
Ox turned on the TV hanging from the wall.
The screen was blue.
Ox pressed Play.
Carter Bennett filled the screen, sitting behind his father’s desk. His face was pale. He took in a stuttering breath and shook his head.
Then:
Kelly, I….
I love you more than anything in this world.
Please remember that.
I know this is going to hurt, and I’m sorry. But I have to do this.
You see, there was this boy. And he’s the best thing that ever happened to me. He gave me the courage to stand for what I believe in, to fight for those I care about. He t
aught me the strength of love and brotherhood. He made me a better person.
You, Kelly.
Always you.
You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
You’re my first memory. Mom was holding you, and I wanted to take you for myself, hide you away so no one would hurt you.
You’re my first love. I knew that when you would always smile when you saw me, and it was like staring into the sun.
You’re my heart.
You are my soul.
I love Mom. She taught me kindness.
I love Dad. He taught me how to be a good wolf.
I love Joe. He taught me that strength comes from within.
But you were my greatest teacher. Because with you, I understood life. What it meant to love someone so blindingly and without reservation. To have a purpose. To have hope. I have been a big brother for most of my life, and it’s the best thing I could ever be. Without you, I would be nothing.
I know you’re going to be angry.
But I hope you understand, at least a little bit.
Because I have this hole in my chest.
This void.
And I know why.
I do.
It’s because of him.
I have to find him, Kelly. I have to find him because I think without him, there’s always going to be part of me that feels like I’m incomplete.
I should have listened to you more when Robbie was gone.
I should have fought harder.
I didn’t understand then.
I do now, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
Maybe he’ll want nothing to do with me. Maybe he’ll….
I have to try. And I know Ox and Joe and all the others are looking for him, for the both of them, but it’s not enough. Kelly, he saved us. I see that now. He saved us all.
And I have to do the same for him.
I have to.
I made you a promise once. I told you that I would always come back for you. I meant it then and I mean it now. I will always come back for you. No matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing, I’ll be thinking of you and imagining the day I get to see you again. I don’t know when that’s going to be, but after you kick my ass, after you scream and yell at me, please hug me like you’re never going to let me go because I won’t ever want you to.
Fuck. I can’t breathe. I can’t—
Kelly stepped forward and pressed his hand against the screen, the tips of his fingers covering Carter’s throat. He hung his head, shoulders shaking.
Remember something for me, okay?
When the moon is full and bright and you’re singing for all the world to hear, I’ll be looking up at the same moon, and I’ll be singing right back to you. For you.
Always you.
I love you, little brother, even more than I can put down in words. You’ve got to be brave for me. Keep Joe honest. Give Ox shit. Teach Rico how to be a wolf. Show Chris and Tanner the depths of your heart. Hug Mom and Mark. Tell Gordo to lighten up. Have Jessie kick anyone’s ass who steps out of line.
And love Robbie like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.
I will come back for you, and nothing will hurt us ever again.
I’ll be seeing you, okay?
The video ended, Carter’s face frozen on the screen.
No one spoke.
Eventually Kelly turned toward us, and for a moment, I was reminded of his brother standing in the ruins of the compound like a lost little boy, asking why, why, why did he go, why did he have to leave?
I felt cleaved in two.
He walked by us without speaking.
The others parted.
I followed him.
He went out the front door and down the porch. He looked around, his breath like smoke pouring from his mouth as the snow fell. “He’ll come back,” he muttered. “He’ll come back when I call for him. He said he always would, he promised me, he promised me.”
Kelly tilted his head back and howled.
It was an aria of blue.
It echoed in the forest around us as it died.
He waited.
There was nothing.
He did it again.
And again.
And again.
By the fourth time, his voice was hoarse and cracking.
He stumbled forward. “Carter! Carter!”
Winter birds took flight from the trees.
“CARTER!”
I caught him before he fell to the ground. I went down with him, holding him against my chest. He laid his head back on my shoulder and howled again, the air splitting around us. But this song wasn’t about calling his brother home.
It was a hymn for the missing.
For the lost.
I tightened my hold around him.
“We’ll find him,” I whispered. “I promise. We’ll find him.”
The snow continued to fall.
eleven
months
later
promise
In the middle of nowhere, an old truck pulled into a gravel parking lot in front of a small, squat building. The town around him looked as if it’d died a long time ago, and all that remained was dust and bones.
The door to the truck opened and a tall man stepped out, boots crunching in the gravel. He squinted up against the afternoon sun. Deep lines formed around his eyes and mouth, and the bones in his cheeks were prominent. His hair curled around the collar of his jacket, shaggy and unkempt. He rubbed a hand over a scraggly beard, scratching his jaw. His jeans were torn, his right knee poking through.
He rubbed a hand over his face as he sighed.
It’d been a long day.
A threadbare flag fluttered.
He didn’t see anyone else on the road.
He walked toward the building.
An old flyer in one of the windows, the paper yellowed with age, the edges worn, advertised a potluck from four years before.
He pushed open the door. Cool air washed over him.
A woman looked up from behind the counter. Her eyes widened at the sight of the man, and she glanced over her shoulder as if looking for someone to save her.
He ignored it. He knew how he looked. He couldn’t do anything about it. He wasn’t going to hurt her. He just wanted what was his. What he’d come for.
He knew it was here too.
He could smell it.
Faint, but still there.
He sucked in a greedy breath, tasting the last lingering scent.
The woman said, “Help you?”
The man said, “I think you have something for me.”
“That right? Don’t know what that would be. Never seen you before in my life. You’re not from around here.”
The man chuckled tiredly. “No. Definitely not. I’m not even sure where here is.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Bedford. Kentucky.”
“Huh,” the man said. “Never been to Kentucky before. How about that.” He took a step toward the counter and was surprised when he found he couldn’t move. He should have seen this coming. Stupid mistake.
He looked up.
Above him, etched into a beam on the ceiling, was a glyph he didn’t recognize, pulsing green.
“Wolf,” the woman whispered.
“Witch,” he replied. “I’m not here to hurt you. Or anyone in this town.”
“You really expect me to believe that?”
“You have something for me.”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“A week ago, another wolf came in here,” he said. “Give or take a day or two. Left a message. Probably told you I’d be coming.” He sighed. “Probably bitched about it too.”
She stared at him for a moment.
Then she nodded. “I might remember something like that. I didn’t believe him when he told me who it was for. Name like that doesn’t come around these parts.”
“Lived here long?”
“All my life.”
H
e looked out the window. “There used to be a pack around here, right? Probably before you. Who was their witch? Your mother or your father?”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Humor me.”
“My mother. She’s dead. Long time. Wolves are long gone.” She frowned. “I like it better that way. Don’t care much for wolves. You’d do best to move on.”
“I will. Just as soon as you give me the message.”
She hesitated before she turned around and disappeared through a door.
She was back even before it stopped swinging.
In her hand was an envelope.
She placed it on the counter and stepped back before she held up her hand, fingers twitching as she muttered under her breath. There was another pulse of green, and the glyph above faded.
“Take it,” she said. “Take it and leave.”
“How long?” he asked as he stepped up to the counter. He stared reverently down at the envelope. He was almost scared to touch it for fear this was nothing but a dream. “How long ago did you get this?”
“Six days.”
“And which way did he head after he left?”
A pause. Then, “North.”
“Did you see anyone else? Don’t lie to me.”
She shook her head. “I think he was alone.”
The man picked up the envelope. “Oh, I doubt that.” He closed his eyes as he brought it up to his nose, inhaling deeply.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
He turned to leave.
He was at the door when the woman said, “Is it true?”
He stopped, but he didn’t look back. “What?”
“What they’re saying. About the Alphas. About the wolves. About a beast that can’t be killed.”
He looked back at her, eyes flashing Beta orange. “Oh, he’ll die. I’m going to make sure of that. Forget you ever saw me. I was never here.”
And then he pushed open the door and stepped out into the parking lot.
For years, after all was said and done, the woman would remember this man.
She would remember how all she felt from him was blue.
But if pressed, she would say that underneath everything, she felt the green of relief.
Of hope.
It was small, but there.
And it was enough.
