Fate Succumbs

by Tammy Blackwell

  I ripped off the monstrosity on my head and replaced it with the new wig. I just barely suppressed the urge to bounce up and down as I looked over the results. “Too bad my eyes aren’t a really light green instead of blue,” I said squinting at my face. “I think the coloring of the wig would have made them darken up a bit.” As it was, my eyes were still way too Scout-like.

  Liam mumbled something under his breath about me being a girl, which I ignored as he went back to his bags. This time he produced a small plastic case. I opened it to discover a pair of turquoise colored contact lenses.

  “Where did you get these?” The last thing our extended road trip needed was for me to get some sort of bacteria that would rot my eyeballs out of my head.

  “Stole them from a girl at the park. I think she had to take them out because of a nasty eye infection,” he said as if he could read my mind. I offered him the sight of my newly healed middle finger, fully extended. “They’re new, hence the safety seal you just broke.”

  They were a little difficult to put in. My eyesight has always been perfect, so there was never any reason for me to stick little discs of plastic in my eyes before. It probably would have gone a lot quicker if I hadn’t automatically squeezed my eyelids shut every time my finger got anywhere near my face.

  “What do you think?” I asked, turning away from the mirror once I got everything adjusted.

  Liam had stretched himself across one of the beds and turned the TV to The Weather Channel while I was ineffectually jabbing myself in the eye over and over again. His glance lasted less than a second. “You still look like you.”

  “What do you mean I look like me?” I leaned back over the sink. Thanks to my bloodshot eyes, I looked more like a strung-out coke head than Scout Donovan, Granddaughter to the Senate Majority Leader. The eye color didn’t look one hundred percent natural, but only if you looked real close. It was much less distracting than my normal shade. The hair was obviously not natural, but it was an expensive wig, not one of those things you buy at the Halloween shop for ten bucks, so it looked like real hair with an extreme dye job. I didn’t see that as a problem since at least half of American women color their hair. I thought I could easily walk into a mall and not be rushed by the FBI.

  “I mean…” Liam did some sort of wave thing with his hand that I think was supposed to indicate my general appearance. Or maybe there was a fly. “You look like Scout in a wig. It’s not exactly going to keep someone from recognizing you.”

  We were going to have to agree to disagree on this one, except… “I’m not riding in the trunk.”

  I think he might have considered it, but finally relented. “It’s probably good enough that as long as you don’t talk to anyone or draw attention to yourself, no one will look close enough to notice.”

  Oh yay! An existence of only talking to Liam. Maybe I should revisit that I want to live thing.

  Liam went back to his magical bags of treats and tricks and fished out a pair of Jackie O sunglasses. “Here,” he said, tossing them my way. “Wear these at all times.”

  “What is the point of the contacts if I’m going to keep half my face covered with sunglasses?”

  “The contacts are the backup plan.”

  Of course he had multiple plans for keeping my identity concealed. Liam was a man just filled with plans. Plans on how to save me from the Alphas without implicating Charlie. Plans to go out and buy me some snazzy costume supplies while I sat in a motel room thinking he was never coming back. Plans for where we would go next. Problem was, he never saw fit to inform me of any of these plans.

  Chapter 5

  “Let me see if I’ve got this right.” I rubbed my eyes underneath the sunglasses I was forced to wear. “There are more Stratego than the three we killed?”

  The sun was just starting to stream through Liam’s window as we headed south. Today was a backroads day, which made me happy. I liked looking at all the tiny towns, seeing something other than the side of an interstate.

  “Nine more, although they’ve probably already promoted some of the Taxiarho so there’s a full twelve again.”

  Dots appeared on the horizon. I zeroed in on them without turning my head so I wouldn’t draw Liam’s attention.

  “Is there always twelve Stratego?” The dots solidified into animals. “And those are my ten cows.”

  Liam looked around until he finally spotted them in the field. His cuss word was said from between clenched teeth.

  “That’s forty-seven cows for me, and only three for you.”

  “This is the stupidest game I ever-- My cows!”

  “Five for you.”

  Liam gave his head a good frustrated rub. “Stratego,” he said, getting us back on topic. “Always twelve, same goes for the Taxiahro. Sometimes it will take them a while to decide who will fill the spots, but they never let them stay open long. That’s why they tap so many Potentials.”

  “A Potential being someone who may one day join the Alphas as a Taxiarho or Stratego?” Not for the first time, I longed for a handbook.

  Liam was just as frustrated by my lack of knowledge. “Do you know anything about Shifter culture?”

  “Let me see…” I tapped my bottom lip with my finger. “They treat all girls except for the Alpha Female like crap and like to kill anyone they consider different or annoying.”

  “And…”

  “And nothing. I think that about covers everything I know about you guys.”

  Thus began a long, long, loooong lecture on all things Shifter (included how it was “us” instead of “you guys”) by Professor Liam Dry-As-Burnt-Toast Cole. By the time we pulled into a parking lot of a garage on the outskirts of Houston I was contemplating fashioning a noose out of the seatbelt.

  “I don’t think they’re open,” I said as he cut off the engine.

  Liam just glared and told me to stay put. Curiously, he seemed nervous as he knocked on the office door. Even more curious, someone actually answered it. I couldn’t really tell much because the light bombarding the darkness was blinding, but I thought there were several someones inside. Four minutes later, he came to get me.

  “Keep your head down and don’t say anything,” he said under his breath as we walked towards the building. “Nothing, Scout. No words of wisdom. No questions. Just keep your mouth shut. Got it?”

  “I don’t know. Do you think you could explain it to me in more detail? Maybe give me some examples?”

  I’m not sure where the ability to actually snip back at Liam was coming from. Either I was finally growing comfortable with him after so much time together, or Wolf Scout was still close to the surface. Then again, it could be that what my mom referred to as my “Good Sense Filter” was broken again.

  Liam led me into an office, which was indeed filled with people. There was a guy either asleep or passed out on an old ratty couch in the corner. His skin and hair were dark, and his arms were covered in tattoos, several of them written in Spanish. A woman sat next to his feet, eyes glued to the phone in her hand. Another guy, who looked like he was maybe a brother to the unconscious guy, sat at a desk. His gaze was critical and assessing. A third guy sat on the edge of the desk, tossing a ball in the air. He was the only white guy in the room, so of course he was the one to greet me with a “Hey, Chica.” None of them seemed to notice the toddler crying in the middle of the floor.

  “So, this is your girl?” the guy behind the desk asked.

  Liam wrapped an arm around my shoulders and tucked me into his side. It took some effort to override my instinct to stomp on his foot. “Elizabeth, this is Diaz, a friend of mine from way back. He might be able to help us find a place to stay for a little while.”

  Since I wasn’t allowed to speak, I just kind of shook my head a little bit. I was really more concerned about the poor kid, who had graduated from full-on tantrum to tiny defeated sobs. My hand itched to grab a tissue and wipe the snot off his face.

  “Turn around for me, Beth.”

 
Since the guy reminded me of a Mexican Shawn Michaels from Dad’s Monday night wrestling show, I complied.

  “Not bad,” Diaz said. “Tight, young body. Average face. You’ll need to get some new clothes, but Trina can help you out.”

  I was still confused, but apparently Liam had caught on because he was well beyond pissed. “No,” he ground out. “She’s with me. She’s not working the streets.”

  Working the streets? What…?

  Oh. My. God.

  “You want me to be a hooker?” I completely forgot my orders to keep my mouth shut. “Are you insane?”

  White Guy laughed. “Ooooh… She’s all sweet and innocent, too. That’ll definitely jack up the price the first few times.”

  I buried an elbow in Liam’s hip to keep him in place, although I really wanted to stab White Boy in the eye with an ice pick myself.

  Diaz leaned back in his office chair and stretched his beefy arms over his head. “I thought you needed money,” he said to Liam.

  “I do, but I’ll work for it.” His arm tightened around my shoulders. “Leave her out of it.”

  The kid on the floor started screaming again.

  “I don’t know, friend.” Diaz sat back up and shrugged as if he somehow regretted what he was saying. “Around here, everyone contributes. That’s how a family operates, everyone pulling their weight. Now, either your girl here is part of our family and has a place to stay for a while, or she’s not.”

  Liam’s body tensed. For a guy who was usually so closed off and stoic, his internal conflict was amazingly obvious on his face. He wanted to tell Diaz to go and do inappropriate things to himself, but he was counting on whatever arrangement this was working out. I knew we needed the money. The roll of bills I found obscenely huge when we first started our journey was getting rather small. How much more did we have? How long would we survive on it? And for the love of all things shiny, would someone please shut that kid up so I could actually think?

  And just like that, inspiration struck. “I can babysit,” I said. To prove my point, I shrugged off Liam’s arm so I could go scoop the kid off the ground. He kept crying, and looked more than a little frightened, but I bounced him up and down a few times while making shushing noises until he calmed. “See? He likes me.”

  “She’s a girl, genius,” White Boy said.

  “She’s not crying,” I countered.

  Diaz laughed. “She’s got you there, Fists.” He stood up, which meant I got to see how he wasn’t even as tall as I was. His muscles might have had muscles, but he was kind of a shrimp. Liam completely dwarfed him as Diaz walked over and stuck out a hand. “Welcome to the family.”

  “We’re glad to be here,” Liam answered for the both of us.

  ***

  “Here” ended up being a tiny ancient camper. Once Diaz and Trina, the iPhone girl, left, we tried to make ourselves at home. Liam claimed the bed that ran along the back wall, which meant I was left to sleep on the one that folded out of the wall above the kitchen area. The microwave didn’t work, but the miniature fridge did. The bathroom was small and disgusting, but sadly that was the sort of thing I had grown accustomed to during our tour of the nation's crappiest motels.

  “Not to alarm you or anything, but I think you just made a deal with a Mexican gang.” I’ve read Simone Elkeles’s books. I know how this whole garage as a front thing works.

  “Don’t worry about it. Just keep your head down and your mouth shut from now on.” I thought about suggesting he get that tattooed somewhere on his body, but decided he might think it was a better idea to tattoo it on me instead.

  “So, what’s the plan?” I asked as I sat down at the table not really big enough for two.

  Liam grabbed my bag and tossed it onto the table. “First we unpack, and then I expect to see you on your knees.”

  After the exchange with Diaz my brain automatically went somewhere very, very bad.

  “W-w-what?” I could feel the blush stretching over every inch of my body. Seriously, I think my feet were even embarrassed and angry. “I’m not… I won’t…”

  I knew the moment Liam realized what I was thinking because his face also shot up in flames.

  “No! Not… That.” He looked as though he was having some sort of episode, like maybe an aneurysm. “You were supposed to get down on your knees and beg me for forgiveness because you were wrong about the pizza guy. I don’t want… I mean, I wasn’t asking you to--”

  I held up a hand. “Please don’t say it. I think we’ve both been traumatized enough.”

  He gave a quick jerk of the head in agreement before quickly turning away. This would normally be the point where I disappeared into another room and not show my face again until the awkwardness had passed. Unfortunately, we were stuck in a space about half the size of my bedroom back home.

  “I was actually talking about more of a long term plan,” I said because the silence just wasn’t doing it for me. “How long are we staying? A couple of weeks? Months? As long as we can?”

  Liam tossed a handful of individually wrapped toothbrushes in one of the drawers in the bathroom. “Six weeks, max.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I’ll tell you what you need to know.”

  “Or you could tell me now,” I said, leaving off the “instead of being an arrogant bossy control freak.” Did he appreciate the gesture? Of course not. He actually pretended I hadn’t spoken at all. “Come on,” I said nearly five minutes later. “What is it going to hurt? Maybe I could be helpful if I was actually in on the plan instead of bouncing around like an uninformed idiot.” Which is exactly what I had been doing for the past year. I didn’t know about Shifters until I saw Alex in his wolf form. I hadn’t known Jase and Charlie turned into coyotes during the full moon or my best friend could See people’s thought and emotions just by touching them until I discovered it on my own by accident. Once I became a Shifter myself, I was still kept in the dark. I didn’t know the traditions and customs, yet I was expected to abide by them. I didn’t know what a Thaumaturgic was, yet I was put on trial for being one. And no one ever cared to inform me of the Free Scout plan, which may have worked a bit better if I had been clued in.

  I was sick and tired of being kept in the dark.

  “It’s need to know information, and you don’t need to know.”

  “Why the Hades not? It is my life we’re talking about here, right?”

  I’ve developed an immunity for most of Liam’s looks, but the one he shot me made my gut clench. He wasn’t angry or annoyed or even exasperated. He was disgusted. “You think this is all about you?” He balanced his hands on the table and leaned in until we were face to face. “This is so far beyond you that you couldn’t see it with a telescope. It’s about time you stopped with the princess routine and realized you’re nothing more than a pawn.”

  Chapter 6

  Whatever progress Liam and I had made was immediately undone. Thankfully, we saw each other very little during our tenure as part of the Diaz family. My babysitting gig turned out to be an on-call twenty-four hours a day thing. Trina and Diaz, who were married, had three kids. Sophie was the baby, Eddie was three, and Lili was four. I was also expected to watch Diaz’s nephew, Xavier, who was seven, the same age as my little sister. I spent almost all of my waking hours with the four of them. Babysitting isn’t really one of my strong suits, especially not when there are diapers involved, but after a few weeks I started getting the hang of it. At least, that’s when I stopped feeling like I was going to burst into tears at least once every hour.

  Liam worked just as many hours as I did, usually stumbling back to our tin can living quarters in the wee hours of the morning. I had been half joking when I told him I thought the garage was a front for a Mexican gang, but I realized I might have been right. Sure, Liam worked in the garage on cars, but most of those cars came in looking a lot better than when they left. I’m not exactly sure what a Chop Shop is, but I think Diaz runs one.

  My sa
lvation from the monotony and loneliness finally came the night before the full moon.

  “It’s you.” My grin was so big my cheeks hurt. “You’re back.”

  “In the flesh.” Alex bowed. “Or not, as the case may be.”

  I launched myself at him, and he caught me in his arms as Nicole, the wolf pup, danced around our feet. They certainly felt like flesh - well, flesh and fur - but I knew it was impossible. I still wasn’t completely convinced these dreams were real, that he was somehow reaching out to me beyond the grave, but I was opening myself to the possibility.

  “Where have you been? I’ve missed you.” Nicole yelped. “Both of you,” I amended, reaching down to scratch the top of her adorable little head.

  The last time I saw Alex was the night before my trial with the Alphas. I had been convinced they would find me guilty and impose a death sentence that very night. Alex was convinced I would live, that it was my destiny to keep going. In the end we were both basically right.

  Alex shrugged, a wry grin on his face. “Turns out dying doesn’t prevent you from getting grounded. My spirit guide status was yanked after I broke a few rules the last time.”

  “Don’t tell me they,” whoever “they” might be, “were mad because you finally told me something about Thaumaturgy. Because really, it wasn’t all that helpful.”

  “No, I think they took issue with my parting words.”

  “This is real, and I didn’t leave you alone. I have always loved you, and I will always love you until the end of time. Now, wake up and live.”

  Not that I had it memorized and recited it to myself on a regular basis or anything.

  “Which part did they take exception to?”

  He raised his eyebrows and batted his lashes. “I’m sorry, but I must answer that in the vaguest and most obtuse manner possible so you continue to question the validity of these dreams you’re having. Because they are just dreams.” He leaned in, a smile spread across his face. “Or are they?”

  “You are so going to get grounded again.”