by S. M. Reine
He was in the belly of the enemy. Even if it looked like a pretty nice church.
Until occupation by the Apple, St. Philomene’s had been used by the Scions as a home base, so it had been filled with equipment to the rafters. Now it had been converted into a home. There were couches and a coffee table in the nave. The pillows had Bekah Riese written all over them—Levi’s sister loved things all bright and fluffy. It was a little rustic, very mismatched, and not exactly what Abel would have expected from an evil cult.
Stephanie sat on one of the couches, moving gingerly, as though in pain. “Can I get you anything?” she asked Abel, gesturing to the opposite couch to indicate that he should sit.
He didn’t move. “You can have your husband get the gun out of my back.”
“Yasir, if you don’t mind,” Stephanie said. The man lowered his gun, but didn’t holster it. “Now, would you please sit?”
“Awfully nice of you to ask, considering you’ve got me kidnapped,” Abel said.
Amusement touched her eyes. “Kidnapped?”
“Uh, yeah. Held at gunpoint.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Abel. You’re not being held captive. If you don’t want to be here, then go. We won’t stop you.”
“Fine,” he said. “Maybe I will.”
He walked out the front door of the cathedral, moving briskly, shoulders and neck tense. He expected Yasir to fire on him at any moment.
There was no gunshot. No attempt to stop him at all.
Abel was all the way down the stairs and two steps from the road by the time he realized Stephanie and Yasir really weren’t going to follow. He turned back to the cathedral, gaping at the front door. Rain collected in the gutters and drizzled off the corners of the roof.
“What the hell?” he asked the front of the building.
That wasn’t how the Apple worked. They weren’t friendly. They didn’t let people just leave.
He hesitated.
Then he climbed the stairs, pushed open the door, and went back inside.
Stephanie and Yasir hadn’t moved. Damn the woman—she still looked like she was quietly laughing at him.
Stiffly, Abel stood beside the other couch.
“You want clothes?” Yasir asked. “I’ve got a couple things that might fit you.” There was kindness in the way he spoke. Gun aside, this was the guy who had been best man at Seth’s doomed wedding.
Abel glanced down at himself. He’d forgotten that he was still naked. It was easy to forget, hanging out in the sanctuary—lots of the werewolves didn’t ever bother getting dressed, so long as the weather was good. “No. I’m fine.”
Yasir tossed a blanket at him anyway.
“What are you doing here, doc?” Abel asked, chucking the blanket over the back of the couch without even looking at it.
Stephanie registered mild surprise. “She hasn’t told you?”
“Told me what?” Abel asked. “Who are you talking about?”
The doctor smoothed her features. “Hmm. Well, I’m here to check on Levi and the status of the fissure.”
“It’s still open,” he said. “Thanks for the visit. See you later.”
“Yes, I didn’t think you would have any interest in my agenda. We won’t waste time discussing it. That’s not why Levi has had an open invitation for you and Rylie to come speak to him—which has been roundly ignored, I’ll note. However, I believe you might be interested in learning more about your brother’s agenda.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Cain, that is. The last person to attempt to lead the Apple on a crusade.”
Anger rippled through Abel. “Don’t want to talk about him, either. I want to talk about you people leaving here.”
“Please, Abel,” Stephanie said. “Be reasonable.”
“I’m feeling real fucking reasonable just by keeping my teeth away from your throats right now.”
Yasir lifted the gun again, aiming it squarely at Abel’s face. The Alpha coiled. Prepared to launch.
Stephanie shoved herself to her feet. “Stop it. Both of you. We’re all friends here.”
Friends? Friends?
“Your friend here just about ripped Heaven out of the sky and dumped it on my town!” Abel snapped.
“That wasn’t what we intended to do,” Yasir said. “It would have gone better if Seth’d been here, like we expected. All we were trying to do was fix the fissure. Cut off Hell.”
“And cut off the only route to getting all the human slaves out of Hell while you’re at it.” Abel shocked himself with how fiercely he said it.
He hadn’t started out a fan of Elise and Rylie’s plan to save the humans in Hell. Abel had thought all those people were as good as dead anyway. But they’d saved hundreds of people now, and Abel would have been a cold bastard not to know how much good they were doing. He’d seen the gratitude in the eyes of the Scions himself.
“I’ll have to beg to differ on the intent of that bridge,” Stephanie said. “Again, I’m not going to try to change your mind about that. We need to talk about Cain and the Apple. That’s all I want.”
“Fine,” Abel said without relaxing. “Talk.”
Stephanie sighed. Lowered herself to the couch again. “You’ll recall that my father, Scott Whyte, betrayed the pack a couple of years ago because of Cain’s demands.” She pulled a blanket across her lap and smoothed it over her thighs. “I was angry. We all were, at the time. I couldn’t understand how he could have aligned himself with a cult that stood in direct opposition to our family’s best interests—a cult that hurt people.”
“Because he was a fucking weasel.”
“Hmm. Well, that may have been a factor. Scott wasn’t without his flaws. However, when he originally joined the Apple, it was not within Cain’s control. Your brother was a smart man. A man with a vision. He stumbled upon the cult, discovered it lacked leadership, and took charge to pursue his own goals.”
“Killing Seth and me for revenge, and then making a million more werewolves,” Abel said.
“Fortunate that he never got that far.”
“Levi wants to make more werewolves, too.”
Stephanie lifted a finger. “Hold on to that thought. Cain’s time manipulating the Apple was…unfortunate. Prior to his interference, it was an old, noble organization of witches loyal to Adam, the First Man. That’s what my father joined. That’s what I’ve joined, along with Levi Riese and much of the Half Moon Bay Coven.” She sighed. “Bekah continues to refuse to become involved.”
He’d never pegged the girl for being that smart. Guess there were a few brain cells hiding behind her curly hair and obsessive need for the sink to be empty of dirty dishes. “Are we done now?” Abel asked. “I thought we weren’t pretending that I cared what you want.”
“Yes. I suppose I’m done with that.” Stephanie patted the couch beside her. “Come here.”
Yasir’s eyes sharpened. “Steph…”
“It’s fine. Please, Abel.”
He didn’t budge.
“I won’t bite you,” Stephanie said. “Not that I’d be able to penetrate your thick hide if I attempted it.”
“I’m not Seth. I don’t heel when I’m told.”
“No. You’re not Seth.” She massaged her temples. Exhaustion shadowed her eyes. “As I said before, I understand you have no interest in what I hope to accomplish with the Apple. I’m not James Faulkner. I won’t try to convince you otherwise. I consider your family to be friends of mine, though, and I want you to understand one thing.” Stephanie spread her hands in front of her, a gesture of honesty. “Everything I do is in the interests of the greater good, and I will do nothing that endangers your pack.”
“Is Levi on the same page?”
“More or less,” Stephanie said.
“Tell him to stop fucking with my wolves. He’s giving us problems.”
“I’ll pass along the message.”
That was a lot more than Abel had expected to get out of the conversation. It made him suspicious. Very suspicious.
“What have Cain and Levi got in common?”
The fact he’d made that connection seemed to please Stephanie. She smiled. “Cain was psychopathic, but he was nevertheless a visionary. In his own way, I believe that he did want to save the world. Had he not been so absorbed in personal vendettas, things might have been different.”
Maybe so many people wouldn’t have turned up dead.
Maybe Abel and Rylie wouldn’t have lost their kids’ childhood to the Haven.
Maybe they wouldn’t have ended up in the sanctuary, tangled up with Elise Kavanagh, and maybe Seth wouldn’t be a hunk of rock in a mausoleum.
Hard to see it as pragmatically as Stephanie did.
“More werewolves won’t save the world,” Abel said.
“No?” Stephanie brushed a lock of graying hair behind her ear, tucking it in her bun. “There’s good reason for werewolves to be fruitful and multiply. If you’re ever interested in hearing the reasoning behind Levi’s apparent madness, you’ll know who to talk to.”
Abel had drifted closer to her while she talked, and he hadn’t even noticed. Now he was within arm’s reach. She rested her hand on his elbow. When he didn’t pull away, her gaze warmed fractionally.
“I cared for Rylie through her first pregnancy. I helped Seth study for classes when he was planning to become a doctor. My father helped raise your children, and he died trying to make things right with the Greshams. When I say ‘your family,’ Abel, I hope you realize that I regard myself as part of your family, too. The Whytes, the Rieses, the Greshams—we are all family.”
“Tell that to your dick of a half-brother,” Abel said.
Stephanie chuckled softly. “I’ll add that as a postscript to your other loving messages.”
He stepped away from her, toward the door. “So we’re settled on this. Levi’s gonna back off the wolves. You’re not going to keep fucking up our shit.”
“I’ll ask Levi to back off for now, and our intent is definitely not to ‘fuck up shit.’”
While the demands were still working, he might as well keep pushing it. “You’ll get out of Northgate, too.”
“To be honest, I don’t want to be in Northgate. It’s Levi’s choice to remain. I don’t fully understand why—that’s another reason that I’m visiting. Again, I’ll talk to him about that. That said, I hope that you’ll find our presence turns out to be beneficial. I only ask that you give us a chance to prove ourselves.” Her lips turned into a frown. “And maybe stop ignoring our diplomat?”
Levi? A fucking diplomat?
Stephanie had her hand extended like she wanted to shake—like she thought they had just reached some kind of agreement.
Yeah, right.
Abel slammed through the doors of the church, heading into the rain.
This time, he didn’t go back.
Abram didn’t need to be a werewolf to track like they did. He’d spent his youth tussling with a twin sister that could shapeshift into a wolf twice his size, so he’d had to learn a few tricks in order to keep up with her.
Once you started thinking like a wolf, it was easy to figure out the paths they would take through the forest. They always moved downwind of their prey. They were confined to the forest floor, preferring to weave between obstacles rather than leap them. Abram couldn’t keep up when he took their routes. They were too fast, too graceful, too small.
He didn’t take their paths. He figured out where the wolf would be next, and he cut his own route.
Seth had taught him to move swiftly and quietly. The trick wasn’t to shoot for silence—it was to make himself sound like the forest’s natural movements. To brush the branches the way the wind did. To beat his feet like the hoofs of deer. To rustle bushes in time with the river’s flow. When he ran like that, he always felt like he was still close to Seth, like the werewolf hunter was right behind him. Watching him. Guiding him.
He wondered if Seth would have had an easier time keeping up with Levi. Where Levi was concerned, Abram was always just a little too slow.
He caught signs of the werewolf’s path outside the sanctuary, but within the warded barrier. Tufts of honey-gold fur were stuck to a tree. Abram touched it lightly as he passed, giving himself a physical connection to Levi’s passage as his eyes followed the disturbed bushes higher into the mountains.
Without any climbing equipment, Abram leaped onto the short cliff, scaling it with the strength of his arms. It made his journey a few feet shorter. As soon as he hit the top, he spotted a flash between the trees ahead.
Levi.
Abram broke into a run, fading into the trees, following the wind.
The wolf was moving slow. He was shifting back into his human form, many miles away from Northgate, a very long walk from even the sanctuary.
Abram began spotting shed fur among the pine needles, then a fine spray of blood. Even the werewolves that could change at will—like Levi—had to go through breaking bones and ripping flesh to exchange shapes. They healed instantly, but it left a distinctive trail. Marks that anyone could have followed.
As though Levi wanted to be found.
He caught up with him a few moments later, but Abram hung back behind a tree, watching Levi change. He was vulnerable in these seconds when fur gave way to tanned flesh. When his fangs were falling out to be replaced by dull human teeth. When the ache of the change was all-consuming.
Abram could have planted a bullet in Levi’s skull and the wolf never would be able to stop him.
Levi stood among the bushes, muscles rippling. The long lines of his shoulders curved down to his ribs, where ridged muscle formed a vee to his Adonis belt. Honey-gold curls, the same color as the hair on his head—the same color as the fur of his wolf—trailed from his navel to his thighs. He waxed everywhere else. There was nothing to conceal his tattoo of a large bleeding apple encircled by emerald leaves.
His face tipped back, gazing up at the night sky. Rain dripped from the trees onto his cheeks. He didn’t flinch.
Abram moved swiftly. He shoved Levi into a tree, pinned him with the weight of his body, and pushed his gun into the back of his head. His opposite hand dug into Levi’s tricep.
“You’re dead,” Abram said.
Levi was breathing hard, pinned against tree bark, not even struggling to fight back. “Looks like it.”
Abram holstered his gun. He hadn’t taken the safety off.
He buried his face in Levi’s hair, inhaling the familiar scent of his curls. He smelled musky. Like Gran’s herb garden. A leather cord was wrapped around his neck, hanging a silver pentacle over his heart—the enchanted token that allowed him to transform in between moons like an Alpha did, even though Levi was otherwise an entirely normal werewolf.
After a moment, Abram stepped back. “If I were Abel, I could have killed you when you were changing.”
“If you were Abel, I wouldn’t have come out here to change,” Levi said. “Would I?”
“You need to be more careful.”
“You need to worry less.”
Abram folded his arms over his chest. Maybe that was true. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had accused him of being too emotional, though. “Thought you should know—Abel’s planning something to do with you and the Apple. He’s been watching you. Knowing him, whatever he does, it’s going to be bad.”
Levi snorted. “Knowing him, whatever he does, it’s going to be ham-fisted and ineffectual. That’s a guy that thinks with his gun instead of his brain. I’m not even sure he can fit anything in there, his skull’s so thick.”
Abram supposed he should have been offended. He was Abel’s son, after all, and fifty percent of his genetics came from that thick-skulled asshole. But he didn’t exactly disagree. “He’s smart enough to know that you’ve been talking with the pack.”
“If he had any idea what I’ve been doing, he’d have already tried to kill me. He doesn’t know as much as you think. Relax.” Levi sat next to him, their arms pressed together. “Anyway, I have a
plan. I’m going to execute it soon. Abel won’t know what hit him.”
“Tell me,” Abram said.
“What if I tell you and you warn Rylie it’s coming?”
Abram gave him a blank look. Levi knew where his affiliations rested, and it wasn’t with a werewolf pack that was run by his father.
Levi returned the look, giving an exaggerated slant to his brow, turning his mouth into a severe frown. “What’s caveman face mean this time? You pissed? Annoyed? Thinking about Game of Thrones? Use words.”
Abram pushed away from him and glanced around the forest. His senses, unfortunately, weren’t as good as a wolf’s—there was no way to tell if anyone was nearby. He had to trust that Levi would warn him if someone were approaching. “There’s no point fighting Rylie and Abel. You should leave Northgate.”
“So you are a double agent,” Levi said, sounding bored, investigating his fingernails.
“I’ll come with you.”
“Oh.” And then, “Huh.”
“I hate it here. I hate the fissure. I hate…struggling.”
“Everywhere’s going to be a struggle until we end the war.” Levi tugged on one of Abram’s belt loops, dragging him back to the tree stump. “This is where I’m needed, and this is where the werewolves need to be, for at least a couple more days. That means the Apple’s got to be here too. We can’t leave.” He smiled, and it wasn’t one of his mean, I-hate-your-parents smiles, but something genuine. “Nice thought, though.”
“You can’t win a direct fight against Abel,” Abram said.
“Wow. That’s some confidence right there.”
“It’s the truth. You’re too weak.”
“I don’t need to be stronger if I’m smarter,” Levi said. “Which I am. I also don’t need to be stronger if I have most of the pack on my side…which I do.”
That was news to Abram. “Most?”
“Twenty-two of them. The Fergusons, Pia, Felton and Deepali, all their friends—I’ve been talking to them at the cathedral when they come to Northgate for patrols. Not to mention quite a few of the Scions. They’ve thrown in with me.” After a pause, he added, “They’ve thrown in with us, Abram. When it comes time to make the change in command, they’ll stand with me. I’m pretty sure they won’t be the only ones, either. The others will see sense once it’s put right in front of them.”
