The loups-garous who were coming to her rescue banged open the door, but Gregory slammed his hand against the wood, keeping them all out.
“What in hellfire are you doin’?” shouted a familiar voice, one belonging to one of the alphas that first tried to break her the night before.
“Everything is under control,” Gregory replied, his eyes fixed on Katey as if his stare was the only thing to keep her from running.
One feeble pull on the handle told Katey the French doors were locked anyway. In her current state, she would never have been able to break the lock as Gregory did. Even if she could, there were the shutters beyond to deal with, and they must have been locked as well. If vamps slept in this room, they would have secured every possible doorway and window against anyone who dared to fry them in their sleep.
“Is Katey okay?”
This time, the voice belonged to Forrest. He hadn’t been there last night, and she could only assume the reason was because of Lily. The only human for miles around would need consoling after what they had witnessed.
“She’s fine,” Gregory said. “I’m just giving her some food.”
Katey still didn’t believe him, but her trembling fingers let go of the door handle and slid down to wrap around her legs.
“Uriah,” the first voice said, “stand guard.”
“No!” Gregory snapped. “I don’t want anyone within fifty feet of this door. You can hear from down the hall.”
Katey’s lips parted, her chest rising and falling with each quick breath from her lungs.
There were grumbling threats spoken against Gregory, but he didn’t even bat his eyes at the insults as the other loups-garous moved away from the door.
Once they were relatively alone again, Gregory let his hand slip from the door, his fingers grazing against the grain of the wood. Then, with cautious precision, Gregory moved toward the unoccupied bed on the far wall and slid the platter of assorted meats onto the comforter.
Slowly, he lowered himself onto the bed and made no attempt to approach her. Katey took her eyes off the alpha for one split second to examine the tray from her spot on the floor. Roast beef, turkey, smoked ham, and discs of capicola, salami, and pepperoni. It looked like it belonged in a deli display window and Katey’s stomach growled.
“You’re hungry,” Gregory said. “Eat.”
Katey thought for a moment and then shook her head, locks of tangled hair falling around her cheeks. The platter was too far away from the safe spot on the floor and far too close to Gregory. “You’re just luring me closer to you,” she whispered. “It won’t work.”
A soft smile spread over his lips, and Gregory nodded. “Smart girl. After their first change, most of my wolves were still operating on instinct.” He tilted his head. “Of course, you’re doing the same in a way.”
A sickness rose in her gut. “I know what you tried to do to me last night.”
The smile faded. “You remember?” he asked, a tone of astonishment in his voice.
“I remember everything.”
Gregory lifted his chin in understanding. “No wonder,” he breathed. “I promise I’m not going to do anything to you.”
“I can’t imagine why I don’t believe you?” Katey spat.
A muscle in Gregory’s jaw jumped, and she shied away, pressing herself into the door as if that would save her from his agitation. As soon as the flair of emotion showed itself it was gone, and the sedated look in his stare was back.
True to her words, she didn’t trust him. Before last night, she might have felt different. He was interested in peace and contrary to what others believed of him, Katey was inclined to give him a chance. There was still no forgetting the way his arms wrapped around her hips and pulled her against his pelvis.
Katey cringed and looked away.
“I know how you feel,” he said, voice softer and gentler than she had ever heard it.
Katey glared back at him. “You have no idea what I’m feeling.”
He let out a huff of air and shrugged his brows. “That’s what they all say. But you know, you aren’t the first to experience the change after you’ve been turned.”
That wasn’t what Katey thought he was talking about, but listened anyway.
Gregory leaned forward, lacing his fingers between his knees. “You see, I was bitten, just like you. Most of the wolves here were born into this life. I was not.”
The tightness in Katey’s sneer lessened but waited for the rest of his story.
“I was born a human, just like you. I had a family, a stable home. That was a few centuries ago, of course. I had a fiancé and a career.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you want to know what I did?”
Katey blinked, but wouldn’t respond otherwise. He would tell her either way.
“I hunted wolves. You see, in Europe at the time, wolves were still a nuisance to shepherds. When they had a wolf problem, I came and took care of it. I was the best wolf hunter in Germany.”
Gregory ground his teeth and then continued. “But one day, I killed a werewolf. I shot it with the last of my lead bullets and then had to switch to the silver rounds an old woman in the village had given me a few days before. She suspected it was no ordinary wolf and she was right. When the wolf finally died, it turned into a man. The villagers burned the body, believing it to be some kind of witchcraft. What the old woman couldn’t predict was that it was a member of a larger pack.
“You know the alpha, actually. Goes by the name of John Croxen.”
Katey’s mouth gaped for a moment before she regained her composure and snapped it shut. Gregory seemed amused by her shock.
“He found me and without telling me who he was, he told me to end my career, or he would do it for me.” Gregory shrugged. “Being the young man that I was, I refused. I was to be married, and I needed to make enough money to provide for my future wife. Well, he ended my career by turning me into the thing I hunted. It was a form of justice in his mind. Later, he told me I was the first he had ever turned. As far as I know, he’s never turned another since.
“I left my fiancé and was forced to join his pack. It became clear after a few days that I was going to be a handful for John. I was stubborn, rebellious, and hungry for power and independence. I never wanted to be ruled over by another man.”
Katey dropped her gaze to the space on the floor between them. Perhaps he did know how she felt.
“By the time my first change came about, I had become somewhat comfortable in what I was. I thought my new abilities would prove useful in a world where power and strength could get you just about anywhere.” Gregory took a breath. “When I came to, after the change and a night of living hell, I realized how powerless I was. John had the power, and I was just a subordinate, someone to control and order around.”
Gregory held up a finger. “But, this is what I had thought at the time. Hindsight allowed me to see John was only being the teacher that I never had. He tried to preach peace and coexistence between the humans and us, but I never listened. I wanted to rule over the humans. I thought I was superior, just as I once thought I was superior over beasts and animals as a human.”
“Don’t you still believe that now?” Katey asked.
“No, not really,” Gregory admitted. “One day, I ran away from John to be a lone wolf. In that solitude, I met my wife who taught me love was the most powerful thing, not strength or speed. When she died, and I had to look after our son, my heart felt like it would never mend. I reverted to my old dogmas of superiority and those who thought similar things flocked to me. I became the alpha I always wanted to be, but the wolves under my charge were too… too wild.”
Katey looked up. “How?”
A flicker of regret shined in Gregory’s eyes, the look of a man who had made bad decisions but had no way to redeem himself. “No doubt you’ve heard the rumors that we kill humans for food, rather than feeding on wild game… I have never done that. Most of my pack, including my son, have developed a taste for it,
but I never could. I’m the only thing holding my pack from erupting into total anarchy. I’ve never forgotten the principles John taught me, and I’ve tried to teach them the same, but they’re all stubborn and as hardheaded as I had been in my youth.
“Many of my pack members don’t make it to see their first fifty years before they find themselves killed by their own ignorance and stupidity. I’ve had more wolves killed in fights between their own pack members than by hunters. Getting more members is a daily challenge. My wolves aren’t the kindest people in the world, so carrying on their gift to another generation isn’t always an option. They’ve resorted to kidnapping women and raping them. The poor woman would bear their child, but kill herself from the grief of what was happening to her before she could carry the child to term. My pack has dwindled down to a mere ten members now, and my son seems destined to be their alpha. Erik is just like me when I was his age.”
Katey angled a little more of her body toward the alpha, feeling almost sympathetic to his misfortunes. “So, you’re trying to convert them? You’re not the reason they kill humans?”
With her whole heart, she wanted to believe he was telling the truth. She wanted to believe he was a saint in disguise, putting on appearances for the world to think he was some evil man instead of a revolutionary reformer, changing loups-garous one at a time.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” he mumbled. “I just wanted to let you know that . . . you’re not alone. I know how hard it is and so does every wolf here.” Gregory leveled his gaze back on Katey, the turmoil of feeling finally under his control. “If you remember everything, then you’ll know how hard we tried to keep you from hurting yourself and others.”
“I still hurt you. I hurt all of you.” Katey shut her gates again and retreated into the darkness of her shame.
“Girl, if you really hurt me, I wouldn’t be here trying to give you food. If you hurt any of them, they wouldn’t have come running to the door when they heard you cry. The vampires would have shot you with those silver bullets until they couldn’t tell you apart from Swiss cheese if they didn’t think it was worth keeping you alive after what you had done to them.”
Gregory’s nostrils flared. “You can wallow in self-pity all you want, stay in this room for the rest of your life, but there will still be those who will guard you even when you’ve disowned them and tried to shut them out of your life. And do you want to know why?”
Katey slid a glance in his direction and tried to ignore the ache in her chest and the back of her throat.
“Because you matter more to us than any amount of pain and irritation you cause us. You’re going to do great things for our kind. That’s why I’m here because you’ll die if you don’t eat.” He picked up the plate and offered it out to her. “I knew you wouldn’t come down willingly.”
Katey eyed him and the plate. She took a moment to read him, searching his eyes and the energies he exuded. Like the night before when they met on the porch, there was no dishonesty, no trickery in his tone or body language. Either he was a master at hiding what he really felt, or he meant every word he said.
Each movement was difficult and strenuous, but Katey managed to rise to her feet and took the plate from Gregory.
Chapter Nineteen
The bar was more crowded than Logan had expected. Nearly every table was teetering with vacationers and locals, a tall glass of Guinness or shot of whiskey in their fists while they laughed and slurred out stories to their friends. The counter toward the back of the hall was just as cramped with humans and loups-garous – to Logan’s surprise – sitting upon wooden stools peppered with cracks and impressions from long-term abuse.
The lighting fixtures were tinted red, a color that was supposed to be easy on the eyes in such a dim ambiance. Irish drinking songs and ballads sang through the speakers around the room, matching the décor. Photos of Ireland, Notre Dame football memorabilia, and old farming equipment that must have been straight from Dublin covered the walls.
Logan looked up and saw dollar bills pinned and stapled to the rafters with names and messages scrawled across their faces in thick black letters. Nearly every bar had their customs and the things that they were known for, and O’Malley’s Pub and Grill was no different.
Dustin weaved through the tables and headed straight for the bar counter as if he had been there a million times before. A loup-garou was manning the bar, his round face beaming with joviality as he talked with a couple of tourists. Judging by his bright red shock of hair that fell over his ears and equally orange beard, Logan likened him to a leprechaun, though he had the stature of a quarterback.
Squeezing between two drunks, Dustin slapped his hand on the lacquered wood to get his friend’s attention. “Carney O’Malley! How’s the form?” he shouted down the length of the bar toward the redhead.
Carney turned and let out a boisterous laugh. He excused himself from the tourists and came to face his old friend. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he said, voice deep and as Irish as a shamrock. “Head like a bag of spuds, as usual.”
Dustin chuckled. “And you with a face like a blind cobbler’s thumb.” Logan heard his grandfather’s brogue come out in its full glory.
The men clasped arms in greeting and shook with such force that Logan thought their shoulders would pop out of socket.
“How in the name of Jaysus are ya?” the barkeep asked.
“I’m stickin’ it out,” Dustin replied. “The boyo and me just thought we’d come out for a little craic. But by the looks of this jammers place, everyone out wanted to come out for a lash too.”
Carney’s bright blue eyes fell on Logan standing just behind Dustin. “All right, boyo?”
Logan blinked and wanted to admit he barely had a clue what they were talking about, but only nodded. “I’m all right.”
Dustin glanced over his shoulder, then back to Carney. “The boy’s no stook, O’Malley.”
Carney held up his hands in defense. “Never thought he was. Just looked a little knackered is all.”
Dustin leaned in closer. “We both had a long night.” He grabbed Logan by the arm and pulled him up to the counter. “This is my kin, Logan. Logan, this is Carney. We knew each other in the rare auld times back when the Irish ran this city.”
Logan and Carney shook hands.
“I thought it was run by the French?” Logan asked.
“Oh, boyo. That may be true, but we Irish have a way of niggling our place into societies all over. Back then, your kin here was just about as mad as a box of frogs and twice as stuttles.”
Logan nodded, knowing just how effectively the small green island had brought their culture, slang, and even their music over the ocean. Back when they sailed on the Titanic, there was a party nearly every night in the third-class dining halls, ran and orchestrated by the Irish peasants on board. Two things the Irish were good for: wild parties and even wilder fights.
“Looks like everyone’s gonna get locked out of their trees like a monkey who forgot the keys before noontime, Carney,” Dustin remarked, looking around at the intoxicated crowd.
“Aye,” the bartender said. “Business has been flying for several years now.”
“That’s good to see,” Dustin replied and leaned close. “Ye got any Poitín?”
Carney snorted. “Do I have any Poitín? Of course, I do. But a rawny ponce like ye may get battered by it. At least I won’t have to worry about ye getting langered on me.”
Dustin looked at Logan. “Want a little traditional Irish moonshine?”
Logan gave him a wary look. “No, thanks. I’ve got a place I want to go further down the street.” His eyes darted between the two crazy Irishmen. “I trust you two won’t burn down Bourbon Street if I leave you here.”
Carney flipped his wrist at Logan. “Don’t be divvy lad. We only tried to do that once.”
The two men let out a riotous laugh and slapped the counter, obviously remember
ing whatever had happened in another century before his time. Logan gave his grandfather a look and turned to walk out, leaving them to their reunion.
“Be back here in half an hour, or I’ll send a search party,” Dustin shouted out to him over the din of pub clamor.
Logan stepped out into the sun, letting the door close behind him and muffle the bouncy tune of Irish fiddles and flutes coming from the pub. The streets during the bright day were not nearly as congested as at night so he could see for blocks down in one direction without the movement of bodies impeding his line of sight.
After orienting himself, he turned to the northeast and followed the faint trail of magic until it became stronger and pulsed in his core. He was no stranger to the magical energy, but never had he felt is so strongly as he did in front of Madame Celeste’s Voodoo Emporium.
Marie was not outside this time, sitting regally on her stool as she had been the evening before. In her place, leaning against the open doorway, was a man in a waistcoat and top hat. His ebony hair trailed down the center of his back as his hands shuffled a deck of tarot cards.
His eyes, blocked out by a pair of round spectacles, seemed to lock onto Logan, but there was no sign of recognition or astonishment in his face. Either he was accustomed to seeing loups-garous, or he didn’t have the second sight as Marie was gifted with.
“I’m here to see Marie,” he asserted to the man, keeping his eye contact direct and strong, just like his posture. This was no place to show how nervous he was about this exchange. Any sign of weakness and the voodoo apprentice might get the wrong idea to take advantage of his naivety.
The man pushed himself off the doorway and jerked his head inside. “She’s here,” he replied. “She’s been expecting you.”
Logan didn’t let his confusion show until the man turned away to walk through the open shutter doors. Perhaps Marie had told him to be on the lookout for a wandering loup-garou in the streets. Or perhaps he was a little subtler in his ability to know things merely by looking at a person. Logan could never understand how mystics could read minds or somehow innately know things the way they did. Neither did he understand how Katey could sense the emotions and feelings of others, but he had accepted her skill more readily than Marie’s.
Beast Within (Loup-Garou Series Book 3) Page 30
