But, his brother clapped him on the back. “Just be happy Cohen isn’t here.”
Archer caught the bitter tone of Gage’s words and seconded them as he glanced over his shoulder. It was true. While he’d run into a few old faces, Archer hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his older brother. He shouldn’t have expected to see him, really. Neither brother had heard from Cohen in the past three years, save for the occasional check that arrived by mail no matter how many times Archer and Gage moved.
His shoulders sank. Whatever was waiting inside the old stone house, he wasn’t ready to take on. Archer wanted to go back to Paul’s Mart and set up watch. He wanted to hunt down the other Alpha and get it over with. The last thing he wanted to do was see his father and listen to the scolding that would inevitably follow.
“Are you coming, you human shaped fart?”
Archer shook his head at the names his brother used for him and forced himself to move. It was better than Teddy Bear, he guessed.
The inside of the stone house was almost like Archer remembered it. There was a new side table when he entered the door, a bit of veneer already peeling at the corners. Since when had Sampson Vancourt bought anything made from fake wood? Archer ran his fingers over the bit of veneer, trying to smooth it down. Closer, he noticed the stack of bills tossed onto the small table.
There was a blue stamp in the corner that he didn’t expect to see. His stomach crashed to the floor. Shifters didn’t get hospital bills. As he flipped through them, he realized the thick stack was comprised of almost entirely hospital bills. There were a few stamped with the blocky, red words: Over Due.
He opened his mouth to call out to his brother, but chose to close it and threw the bills back down. Lifting his nose into the air, Archer found the lingering scent of soup slapping him in the face. Why did the smell of soup always linger so much longer than any other food? Beneath it, he could smell his father and the scent of a human.
“Damn it, Archer!” Gage shouted from the parlor. “He is here.”
“Shut your mouth or Dad is going to smack you,” Archer warned, turning to catch up. Sitting in a wing-backed chair and staring blankly out the window was a face Archer never expected to see again. “Cohen.”
“Archer,” the eldest Vancourt son said in return. He pulled himself out of whatever deep running river of thought that had gripped him and turned to face the brothers he’d abandoned. “Dad is dying.”
“Well, that’s a lie,” Gage snapped. “The old man might be old, but it isn’t time to put him down yet.”
Archer cringed, thinking about what happened to shifters who outlived their welcome in the world and lost the fight to the beast inside them. Sampson was a cantankerous old fool, but last time they’d seen him he’d been nowhere near that far gone. Archer’s mind drifted back to the bills on the side table.
“He’s sick?”
Cohen nodded. He pushed himself out of the chair and motioned for them to follow.
Gage stood his ground, brows knitted together in defiance. His hands were fisted at his sides. The level of emotion the younger Vancourt showed surprised him. While Archer hated the man upstairs, he hadn’t realized his brother still held on to the man who’d chosen to kick them out of their own family.
Cohen sighed, apparently already sick of Gage. He wasted no time, not bothering to wait for his brothers before climbing the stairs. Archer shook his head at Gage and followed. He ran his hand along the wood bannister, searching for the chip in the wood from when the boys wanted to mattress surf down the stairs and Gage ended up with his head between the posts and Archer took a bite out of the bannister. But, it was gone. He found a rough patch, the unfinished leftovers of roughly applied wood putty, and frowned.
“Someone has been living here,” Cohen said, his voice low and even. “She’s been taking care of dad while we were gone.”
“Gone?” Gage snorted. “Don’t you mean after we were exiled?”
Cohen glanced over his shoulder. “You know you and I both chose that life. Can you be so mad over that?”
Archer’s jaw tightened. The burden of what his brothers had done grew heavier on his shoulders. Would they hate each other so much if he hadn’t rebelled, himself? As it was, there was a field of angry energy sparking between them. Gone were the days of recklessly surfing the staircase and laughing at each other. The two were more likely to pummel each other’s faces.
This wasn’t how Archer wanted to return. For years, he’d dreamed of his father welcoming him with open arms and a decree that his sons had grown strong in his absence. The world outside of the Vancourt Territory had changed the brothers, forced them to harden while they struggled to survive. But, it’d been a stranger that beckoned them home. A stranger brought them back just in time to watch their legacy fall apart.
Chapter Four
The smell that drifted from the closed door made Archer’s stomach tighten. He could see the grim set of Cohen’s face and knew whatever lay behind it was not good, but he could gather nothing more from the brother he barely knew anymore. Archer wanted to ask Cohen where he’d been the past years, where he’d gotten to and what truly made him leave, but he knew the urge for what it was.
Stalling.
Archer wasn’t quite ready to see what lay beyond the closed door. The last he’d seen his father, he’d towered over the three of them as he pointed to the door and told them he never wanted to see them again. Archer had broken tradition, eschewing an arranged marriage with the daughter of another alpha for what he believed, at the time, was love.
The door swung open. Archer somehow expected Sampson to be standing, still owning the room with his presence. But, the Sampson Vancourt before them was a shell of the man he’d been. Where once he’s been tall and immovable like a tree, he was now sunken and defeated beneath the layers of blankets in his bed. The hollows of his face were filled with haunted shadows that danced around his eyes.
The boys stood where they were, unable to speak for a long moment. Archer’s throat closed around anything he might have said, leaving him without breath. He’d never known anything like this was possible. No one thought a shifter could be reduced to a husk.
“What the actual fuck?” Gage broke the tension with his shaky words.
“Watch your language, boy,” Sampson snapped. While the fury was still there, it held only a fraction of the power Archer once knew. Gone was the force that had once commanded one of the largest mixed packs in the country.
“Excuse me for pointing out the obvious.”
“Could you have an ounce of respect?” Cohen growled, stepping toward his younger brother.
Gage spun on him, brows arched. “I might have if anyone had bothered to try raising me. This ass-hat kicked us out on our asses and then this ass-hat,” Gage said as he jabbed his finger into his brother’s chest, “left us, too. You’re lucky I’m not downright feral at this point.”
Cohen’s fist struck out before anyone could move. The impact echoed through the room as Gage staggered, but when he turned back he revealed a bloody smile and leapt at Cohen. The two fell to the floor, a cacophony of thuds and grunts while they beat each other senseless. Sampson struggled against the blankets over him, all the while shouting at his sons to knock it off.
Archer sighed, bearing the burden of being the middle brother, and jumped in to drag them away from each other. He went for Cohen, shoving his arms beneath his brothers and locking his fingers behind his neck. Gage recovered quickly and rushed them. Archer had only a moment to spin and put his back to his younger brother. Just as he reached them, Archer flung his head back. He heard the crack of bone on cartilage and knew he’d broken Gage’s nose. The shifter howled and stumbled away from them, clutching his face as blood streamed down his chin.
“Good to see nothing’s changed,” Sampson croaked.
“You should try to lay still,” Cohen advised the old man as he slipped from his brother’s grip. Archer let him go.
“I will do whate
ver I damn well please with the last of my life, thank you. I sure as hell don’t have to listen to some half assed excuse for a son.”
Cohen snarled and struggled against Archer’s grip. This was the most worked up he’d seen his brother become since… well since he’d left them.
“You’re still all a bunch of fools. I thought forcing you into the real world would make you grow up, but I can see that was a failure. Sons of mine should be stout soldiers, not feral animals.”
“Your traditions were outdated, and you know it,” Archer found himself growling.
Sampson’s glassy gaze flicked to his middle son. “And you think your life is any better for having rebelled? Where’s that pretty human lass you abandoned us for?”
The words struck the air from Archer’s lungs.
“That’s what I thought. Traditions are in place to keep order in the world. Your flimsy emotions don’t make the world go around. Do you think I loved your mother? Do you think she mated with the Bear of the East Coast out of affection? No, we did it to sire a new generation of bears. Guess we screwed up there.”
Archer shook his head. He couldn’t think of her that way. He couldn’t protect her. She, as far as he knew, was part of the problem. He rubbed the scruff on his chin before turning toward his father.
“How about you cut the crap and just tell us how you’re dying?” Gage ventured. It was ballsy, but they could all tell there was no threat coming from the bed other than sharp words.
“I should have tossed you out the window the day you were born,” Sampson grumbled. “It was one hell of a cold and blistery day. Maybe, if you survived, then we could have seen if you were worth it.”
Archer sighed. Nothing had changed. Sampson Vancourt still treated his family like they were belongings, like soldiers meant to obediently do his bidding. The boys had been expected to follow orders and do nothing else. It was no surprise when they’d rebelled all at once.
“Just tell us,” Archer breathed.
“It’s stage four cancer.”
“Shifters can get cancer?” Gage’s jaw dropped. “Are you sure it isn’t stage four karma?”
“Possibly a bit of both,” Sampson confessed before coughs racked his body. “Shifting doesn’t seem to help. In fact, it seems to make it worse. Each time I let the bear out, the tumors get bigger. Even with the bear, my body can’t keep up with it.”
The brothers stood in awe as they watched the once massive man bend and tremble beneath the coughing fit. Archer felt his stomach turn, felt an ounce of pity rise inside him. It was a sad way to end the life of the Bear of the East Coast, but Gage was right. It was, in some ways, karma.
“That’s why you weren’t at the attack on Paul’s today,” Archer muttered.
Surprise passed over Sampson’s face as he struggled to sit up. “What are you talking about?” Another set of coughs made him bend over.
“No one in the Pack told you? They seemed to know it was going to happen, even if they were a bit late.” Archer found himself pacing, his feet angrily slapping the floor.
“Told me what?”
Archer’s lips pulled back from his teeth as he recalled the events at the grocery store. The attack had been planned. The way Nancy reacted, the shotgun cleverly hidden nearby, and the arrival of other Pack shifters, told him they’d known. If they knew and Sampson didn’t, they were hiding events from their father.
Even if his body was in the throes of cancer, he was still their Alpha. The fact that they’d kept this hidden, something Archer suspected had been going on for a while, meant trouble for the Pack. It meant there was an imbalance of power, one that would blow up in their faces if it didn’t right itself soon.
“Tell me what?” Sampson growled.
“The Bart Pack has been attacking Vancourt territory. I don’t know how long,” Archer said as he remembered Joanna’s face. “But, it seems like it’s been happening for a while. Today, they attacked humans in Paul’s Mart. They narrowly missed a human family and their children. It would have been a disaster.”
“The Bart Pack? I knew they were upset when you walked out on their daughter, but not that upset.”
Archer shook his head. “I didn’t actually see Leiv Bart or his sons, just his daughter.”
Sampson struggled to find the words, but his mouth snapped shut and his brows lowered into a line that darkened his eyes. He grew distant, letting himself sink into the pillow as his gaze drifted away from his sons.
“Get out,” he growled at them.
The sudden shift startled Archer. He wanted to shout and scream and demand to know what was going on, but he left the old man alone. He spun on his heel and stormed from the room. Slowly, his brothers followed. If the old man wasn’t going to fix whatever was going on, Archer would.
He glanced back at his brothers, one scowling and stomping while the other lingered in the doorway with haunted lines on his face. Would they stay to clean up the mess after Archer died? With Sampson Vancourt knocking on the doors of the afterlife, there was a chance Cohen and Gage could find a home again, but he worried that without him, the two would kill each other before they set down roots.
Before he died, he needed to convince the brothers that they needed one another. But, just how was he going to do that?
***
Joanna sighed, finally free of the chaos that her home had become. She knew she’d have to return eventually. She would never abandon the Pack she loved. But, time away helped the massive cat inside her to calm down. It needed to get out every once in a while, or give in to the beast entirely and she couldn’t afford to do that.
She glanced at the mess that was Sampson Vancourt’s front yard and felt a smile start to spread over her lips. Her fingers rose to touch her lips in surprise. When was the last time she’d openly smiled? When was the last time someone had openly challenged Sampson Vancourt, the biggest bear on the East Coast?
Only his own sons would dare. Joanna didn’t want to admit it, but she was happy to see that they’d returned. It was about time they came back to own up to their mistakes, she thought, pushing open the door of her little car.
She lingered outside, looking up at the foreboding stone house. It looked like something out of a grim fairy tale, the place where Bluebeard might have taken his foolish wives. While Sampson Vancourt had never taken a wife, he did remind her of the evil Bluebeard. He’d wrapped his sons with so many commands that it’d been no surprise when they broke free. She only wished that she hadn’t invested her own heart in one of those boys.
Where was the imperious Sampson Vancourt now? Joanna had not seen him in months. No matter how many times she reached out to his pack, she’d only reached the second or third in command. Unable to contact Sampson, she’d relayed what she knew to the available shifters and hoped they would put an end to Killian once and for all.
The Sampson she’d known would have shut the near feral Alpha down the moment they met. In fact, she’d been banking on it. So, where was he?
Joanna pressed her weight against the heavy wooden door. Before she could take anything in, the smell of musk and wood greeted her nose. It gripped her and drew her forward, no matter how much she cursed her body. It drew her into the kitchen, where three men acted like boys and pretended the others didn’t exist.
Archer stood with his back to her. Good, she thought. You don’t deserve my attention.
“I figured I’d find you all here,” Joanna said, brushing off her jacket as if she could rid herself of the events of the past few hours.
A low growl rumbled toward her. When Cohen looked to Archer, Joanna realized he was growling at her. The thought was a slap to the face that made her cheeks warm. Angry, she put her hands on her hips and slid her feet apart.
“Don’t growl at me, Teddy Bear.” Joanna couldn’t stand the anger radiating toward her. He knew nothing about what was going on. Nothing. “I’ve had one hell of a day, and if you think I’m going to stand here and let you threaten me, you’re in fo
r a rude awakening.”
“Instead of fighting like an old married couple,” Cohen suggested, “how about you tell us what is going on here?”
Archer’s head snapped up. “We are not an old married couple!”
Cohen’s lip pulled back from his teeth in a vicious snarl. Archer returned the favor, and for a long moment, the two fought for dominance with a staring contest. Joanna didn’t wait to see who would win before moving toward the fridge. She pulled out a beer bottle and tore the cap off with her hand and took a long swing with the hope that it would settle her frayed nerves.
The wind blowing through a small window above the sink carried his scent toward her, a mix of smoky meats and earthy musk, making her stomach tighten. The lynx inside her purred and rubbed against her skin. It sent chills to her core, chills that she cursed. She would not be enticed by him anymore. That dream had been shot to hell and she would never pick up the pieces.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing here? Do you think you’re welcome in this house?” Archer roared at her. “After what you and your pack did?”
Joanna didn’t flinch. Archer didn’t scare her. She had her hands on her hips and her eyes ablaze with a righteous fire that seemed to surprise Archer. “Did it look like I was complicit in the attack? Do you think I wanted to be a part of that for a single moment? I played my part to keep myself, my real Pack, safe.”
Silence hung in the air, growing heavier by the moment. Gage and Cohen hung back, watching the dominance fight with bemused expressions. Gage had grown into a man, his chest and arms straining against the thin, rock band t-shirt that stretched across them. He, too, was covered with tattoos, though his seemed to take on a brighter color with cartoonish exaggeration. On the other side of the room, Cohen glowered. He was just as terrifying as he’d always been. Part of Joanna had been thankful when it’d been announced that she would be marrying Archer and not Cohen. There was something about him that screamed wrong.
Outcast BoxSet Page 3
