Concentrating on the voices took all his energy and eventually he gave up trying to distinguish between them and instead focused on ignoring them. More and more he disappeared into his own mind until he stopped noticing what was going on around him, seeking instead the safe, quiet space in his brain where nothing could find him. There, he wasn’t completely alone. Leslie and Stania sat with him, both radiant in their new dresses. He stayed and listened to them talk. What he’d once found unbearable was now something he sought out. These were voices he could distinguish, illusions he could understand, and he welcomed them.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“ANYONE HOME?” TOM pushed Westley’s door open. He winced when the screen door fell off its hinges. It seemed like forever since he’d stumbled into Westley’s house after his birthday celebration, seeking comfort for being a year older and drunk off his ass.
“In here,” Westley said. He stood at the kitchen sink.
Tom stepped in cautiously and looked around. “Where’s your mo—?” Spotting Ava next to Jaylen, Tom paused to wipe his feet on the welcome mat. “Hi Ava,” he said, trying not to cringe under her scrutiny. As pack alpha, he was ridiculous to be scared of her, but old habits died hard. (As did memories of being boxed around the ears for tracking dirt into Ava’s house.) He took a few seconds to study his work boots’ ridged soles, wanting to tell her that if she was upset at him for not mating her son, it hadn’t been for lack of trying on his part. Glancing at Westley, he caught the amusement mingled with sympathy and shot him a glare. “Nice to see you,” he said to Ava.
“Westley told me you broke his door.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, her tone shoving him back to a time when he wouldn’t have dared respond to her any other way.
“Why don’t you fix it while you’re here? Westley has tools, but he’s not handy.”
Tom waited for her to add, “Not like an alpha,” and from the silence in the kitchen it seemed Westley was waiting too, but she only smiled with weighted pleasantness.
“I’ll send someone over.” Now that she’d all but ordered him to do it, he couldn’t. He had to show he had control, that he could command someone to fix Westley’s damn door.
“I’d prefer it if you—”
“I’ll take care of it.” He made his tone firm. And in the same tone, but still respectful, added, “Ma’am.” He shouldn’t have to play these power games here. It was bad enough out in the community, but that was partly his fault. His father had been pack alpha so long people didn’t remember that he’d started young too. Tom didn’t know if his dad had gone through the same challenges, but at least he’d had his mother and siblings to support him. Tom had two dead best friends, a dead mother, and Westley, who had his own problems without Tom coming whining at him.
“Well, that door slams when the wind—”
“Mother?” Westley cut in, weaving her name into the space between her words with caution, as if he’d never interrupted her in his life. She stared at him as if that were true.
“Westley?”
“Would you mind taking a walk?” Westley asked, in a way that made it seem like a mild suggestion rather than an insult. Tom didn’t know how he managed it, but Westley’s ability to do that was the reason Tom used to let Westley do the talking when they were pups. “I haven’t seen Tom for awhile and we have a lot of catching up to do.”
She smiled and rose up from the couch. “Sure. A walk sounds nice.” She gathered her jacket and Tom stepped out of the way so she could get past him. “I’ll be back in half an hour,” she said.
“Thanks, Mother.” Westley called after her, but Tom decided the wise course would be to keep his own mouth shut. “So what happened?” he said to Tom. “You said you’d be over ‘tomorrow’ a week ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Tom rubbed his forehead and finally stepped all the way inside. “Turns out being pack alpha is a shitty job.”
Westley grinned. “Well, welcome to paradise.” He gestured around the cabin, taking in the stack of dishes piled in the kitchen sink, the boots stacked at the fireplace, an unmade hospital bed, a coffee table with gardening magazines strewn across it, and the couch, on which Jaylen sat in the middle, bolstered up by two stacks of pillows on either side. “Stay as long as you like.”
“Thanks.” He took a few steps toward Jaylen. “Hey, Jaylen.”
Jaylen briefly lifted his gaze, but dropped it before he made eye contact. “Jaylen’s doing a lot better,” Westley said.
“Yeah? That’s great.” Tom could hear through his lying, but there was desperation behind it, as if Westley needed Jaylen’s improvement to be true. From where Tom stood, Jaylen didn’t look like he knew he was in the same room with two other people. He fixed a smile on his face. “Hey, I got you something.” Since his text conversation with Westley, Tom had tried to think how to help him, and after some legwork, he had it. If this didn’t improve both Westley and Jaylen’s lives, nothing would.
“What?” Westley continued with his Disney cheerful tone. Tom’s stomach turned. He fought the urge to take Westley by the shoulders and shake him.
Tom turned to Jaylen. He had a bell tied to his wrist. “Nice bell.”
Jaylen fixed him with a brief, but deadly, glare.
“Hey, I mean it. I imagine it’s useful for getting Westley’s attention, right?”
“He hates it,” Westley said, “but it’s the best thing we’ve come up with. We’re still working on distinguishing between on-purpose rings and muscle spasms, though.” Jaylen jangled it for a solid minute. He started off glaring at Westley, but his gaze drifted toward a distant wall. Westley waited until he stopped and said, “That’s his third kind of ring, which he does to be annoying. It’s the ring he does best.”
“Well, I’ve got something that’s way cooler than a bell,” Tom said.
“What did you get?” Westley dried his hands and walked over as Tom opened his bag.
“Jaylen. Jaylen.” Jaylen’s gaze flicked in his direction. Encouraged, Tom pulled the coffee table away from the couch and sat down in front of him. Two issues of Gardening Today cushioned his ass.
“iPad,” Tom pulled it from the bag with a flourish. “I had it set up special so you guys can communicate.” He turned it on and started to demonstrate. “See? You tap the categories—food, emotion, question words, needs like cold, hot, wet, toilet, and it opens up another category that’s more specific until you find the one you need. There’s two million words available.”
“Wow. Tom, this is amazing.”
“And!” Tom put his finger up and tapped Jaylen on the knee. “Since I remembered what a pleasant guy you are, I added an extra category for you. He flipped the tablet around and pointed to the category called “FU.”
“What’s that?” Westley asked, with the tone he used when he didn’t want to know.
Tom beamed. “Exactly what it sounds like.” He tapped it and the screen filled with national flags. “Just tap the flag you want and you get a picture of someone making that country’s equivalent of the middle finger.” Jaylen seemed to light up. “Yep, I figured that would be your favorite part. There’s voice assignment too, so it’ll talk if you want.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Westley said. “Or if I should.”
“No need. Though I’ll take the tea if you’ve got it.”
“Sure thing.” Westley stood up.
Tom stayed with Jaylen. “You want to try this?”
Jaylen reached out a flat hand and slapped it. “Mongolia, excellent choice,” Tom said. A photo of a fist, seen from the back, with the person’s thumb pushed between the index and middle fingers appeared. Jaylen smiled. His throat moved like he was trying to make noise. For all the healing the shift had given him, it hadn’t returned his voice. “Yeah, it’s pretty funny,” Tom affirmed. “You can flip me off in any culture. Want me to show you how to get to the start?”
He waited until Jaylen’s head twitched. It wasn’t quite a nod, but he seemed
to do it with intent, so Tom took it as one. “Okay, you tap this corner here.” He pointed and after a few seconds, Jaylen hit it. He almost knocked it out of Tom’s hand. “Huh,” Tom said, “we better make sure this thing’s anchored down for you.”
Jaylen met his gaze again, leaving Tom no doubt that he understood. He didn’t know the status of Jaylen’s mental state, if he was brain damaged as the doctors said he should be or if he was in there, trapped but whole. But he hoped this new tool would help draw him out and in doing so Westley could get some of Jaylen back. He’d brought it over more for Westley than Jaylen, and he suspected that if Jaylen was in control of his faculties he understood that. Jaylen started tapping again. Food. Drink. Tea.
“Westley? He wants tea?”
“What kind?” Westley asked from the kitchen.
“What kind?” Tom asked.
Jaylen glanced at the options. Green or black. He pushed the return to start button. Food. Drink. Tea. And again. Food. Drink. Tea. Food. Drink. Tea. The bell jangled erratically.
“West?” Tom put one hand on Jaylen to stop him. “I think he wants your tea.” He turned to Jaylen. “Do you want Westley’s tea that stops him from shifting?”
The top of each page had large red and green icons. No and yes. Jaylen dragged his hand over the tablet and stopped at the green. He slapped it.
“He says ‘yes’,” Tom said.
Westley came over and sat next to Tom. He took Jaylen’s hands. The bell rattled and Jaylen’s face scrunched in annoyance. “It’ll make you sick like me. Do you want that?”
Jaylen jerked a hand free to slap the iPad. Yes.
“You’d rather be sick than be a wolf.”
Yes.
Westley leaned back. “Okay.”
Jaylen sagged into the pillows. The tightness around his cheeks lessened and his eyes filled with relief.
“Can I talk to you alone?” Tom asked. Westley glanced at the kitchen and headed over. Tom followed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He kept his voice down.
“No.”
“Then why—”
Westley reached the back counter, as far from Jaylen as he could get. Tears hovered in his eyes when he faced Tom. “He tried to kill himself.”
“What?” Tom said, unable to keep the shock out of his tone.
“In the bath. He tried to drown himself in three inches of water. If he wants to not be a wolf that badly, then I’m going to help him.” He glanced at Jaylen, who was engaged with his new toy. “God knows I understand it.”
“We still don’t fully know what Denton’s bite did to him, aside from healing him quickly,” Tom said. “It could be that he’s going to shift no matter what he does.”
“Yeah, and it could be that it did something to his mind, too. It could be torture for him right now, and maybe he’d rather have a stomachache over whatever he’s facing. The tea works against hormones, Tom. It might be able to tame some of what Denton did. If it can do that, even a little, I’d say it’s worth it.” Westley’s voice grew steadily louder, but it was still a whisper.
“How do you think it’s working for you?” Tom asked. “Is it doing what you need it to, or is it making you sick?”
“He’s got the iPad now,” Westley said, ignoring the question. “Jaylen can tell us whether it works or not. Why don’t you go turn the voice setting on?”
“In a minute. I need to talk to you about something else.”
“What?”
“When was the last time you went out?”
“I was in the garden yesterday. I wheeled Jaylen out to sit on the porch.”
“When were you last in town?”
“I haven’t been.”
“We’re having a meeting tonight. I’d like if you came. I want you to talk about Jaylen.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“I don’t want you living like this, West. You have to get out. See people. In order for you to do that, the pack needs to know about him.”
Westley handed him a plastic container he’d packed with baggies of dry tea. “Here. For tonight.”
“Think about it? That’s all I’m asking.”
“Thought you were asking me to come.”
“Aim high.” Tom forced a grin. As he took the tea, Westley’s hand slipped into his in the transition. When Westley didn’t let go, Tom squeezed. It was an automatic reaction, and he regretted it once his mind caught onto it. Looking up, he found Westley staring at him, his expression open and his face pale. “I, uh, I better go.”
“Tom...” There was nothing but resignation there. Westley knew he shouldn’t have grabbed Tom’s hand.
Pulling away, he made for the door. He felt like a first class asshole for fleeing, but he wasn’t allowed to comfort Westley anymore, pack alpha or no, and knowing that, knowing that he had to leave Westley in such obvious need, killed him. “See you guys.” Lamest departure ever. Tea in hand, Tom stumbled toward his patrol car and tore away as fast as it would take him. He didn’t notice that he’d almost run Ava down until he sighted her in the rearview mirror demonstrating that she knew a healthy assortment of international rude gestures herself. Rather than pull over, he opted to put his personal safety first and kept on.
WESTLEY SAT IN his truck in the church parking lot. He was late. Bad enough to walk in after everything that had happened, but to do it in the middle of the meeting? He’d rather die. Still, he didn’t have much choice. Jaylen needed him to go in there. After Tom had left, they’d looked at the iPad together and discovered that it also featured icons of each of their names, Westley, Jaylen, and Tom. Jaylen had tapped the ‘Tom’ icon and refused to stop. When Westley had apologized for holding Tom’s hand, Jaylen had stared at him like he was an idiot, so Westley was at a loss. Jaylen finally flung the iPad at Westley’s head. Fortunately, he caught it before any damage was done.
So now here he sat, while Jaylen was at home with Westley’s mother, hopefully being fed chilled tea and not getting sick from it. Westley had driven through town with special care, half expecting someone to leap out or for the town to look different. Nothing signaled what La Mer-sur-Plaines had been through since Denton had come to town. Even the Curlicue had reopened. Leslie’s younger sister was behind the counter when Westley drove past, propped up on her elbows, phone held between her hands.
Come on, West, you’re a grown up. Get inside. It was a half-assed pep talk, but it worked to get him out of the truck. He counted the steps he took into the church, walked past the sign for “La Mer Wolves Team Meeting,” and pushed the door open into the meeting hall. He swallowed a gasp. Here was the proof that tragedy had happened. Instead of a packed house with people standing along the wall for lack of space, the pack members present were clustered into chairs near the stage, leaving rows empty at the back and sides. Tom was at the podium and a heated discussion was going on between him and a handful of betas. Westley looked for his father and found him seated apart from the others. An empty chair beside him was probably meant for his mother. Westley started for it, but reversed his course when his father glared. Instead, he took the seat closest. Westley squared his shoulders and tried to look like he was engaged in the debate.
“Can we table this?” Georgia asked, standing.
“No, we are not going to table it,” Tom said. “We are going to bury it. I told you all at the last meeting we will not be running around biting La Mer’s humans—”
“They won’t kill us if they’re one of us!” Cyrus shouted, standing next to his mate Georgia.
“No.” Tom shouted so loud the podium trembled. Gathering his composure, he said, “It’s not going to happen. Westley? You’re up.”
The arguing stopped as heads swiveled in his direction. Westley tried not to trip over his chair or curse. He made his way to the stage. Tom stopped him as he climbed the three steps up.
“Sorry, I panicked. They won’t get off the damn topic. But you can do this. You’re good for it and I’m right here to back you up.”
Tom looked like he’d been raked over the coals, but Westley decided not to mention that. He forced a smile instead. “Thanks.”
Straightening his back, he walked to the podium. The desiccated pack staring up at him did so without welcome. Although Westley had done public speaking in his graduate courses, it was never in front of a hostile audience. The pack still blamed him for protecting Jaylen from Denton. After everything that had happened, they still believed that Denton wouldn’t have destroyed them if they’d thrown Jaylen to them.
“Hello.” He cleared the catch out of his throat and tried again. “Hello. I’ve come today to ask the pack for its support. I have news regarding the hunter, Jaylen DeWallis.” Growls filled the room. Westley glanced at Tom, who stood at the side of the stage, arms crossed in a way that made his muscles bulge: prime intimidation pose. He stared expressionlessly out to the crowd. “He, um, he was gravely injured in the battle when the Alpha attacked him. He lost his ability to speak. His movements are sporadic and without coordination. He can’t transport himself or manage any of his daily living needs...”
“So what?” Alex shouted.
“If you’re looking for volunteers to put him out of his misery, I volunteer,” yelled another. “I know your pretty omega hands don’t like pulling a trigger.”
“No,” Westley said, raising his voice. He took a breath. “What I’m trying to say is, Denton bit him. He’s a werewolf now. One of us. And he’s staying with me. I’m here to ask you all for your help and your understanding. I’m here to ask for the assurance of his safety.”
“He brought Denton on us,” Cyrus said.
“He followed Denton here,” Westley said. The need to defend Jaylen was stronger than his nerves, and he answered with new confidence. “Whatever reason Denton had for coming, I don’t know. But he’s dead now and we need to move on—”
Wolf Hunter Page 19
