Her expression darkened. I tensed, sensing some detail I’d missed. “Was that bad?” I asked. “Shouldn’t they have been happy Hunters could wield metals without physical consequences?” I remembered all of those side effects Logan had mentioned. Surely, CHAS would’ve employed this technology by now.
“They didn’t see it that way. CHAS was furious. They were afraid of what it could mean, so they ordered it shut down and buried.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, glad Astor wasn’t here to roll his eyes at my repetitiveness.
“All they saw was that Astor had created a way for Werewolves to protect themselves against our greatest weapon. They won’t allow technology that benefits the enemy.”
It took a minute to understand. “Mary Beth was a Werewolf.”
“Yes.”
“The technology blocks reactions to metal.”
“Precisely.”
I scrunched my brows together. Something had been bothering me since I’d arrived. I hadn’t been able to pinpoint it until now. “Why can’t I sense him? Astor, I mean.” I hadn’t felt a single jolt come over me since I’d arrived. No goosebumps, nothing. “I know you said he’s a mixture, but I should be able to feel him, right?”
“Do you know what exactly about them triggers our body’s warning system?” I shook my head. “It’s the wolf DNA that lingers after they’ve changed. It sends a signal to our brains, letting us know that even though they look human in that moment, they are more. A possible threat. But the wolf DNA only lingers as long as they are capable of shifting. Otherwise, they feel like any other human.”
I thought of Miles and how he’d only ever registered as a Hunter. “Are you saying Astor can’t shift?”
“I’m saying he hasn’t in almost fifteen years.”
“Why not?”
“He says it’s a byproduct of all the experiments he’s conducted on himself. He was born a Werewolf but by the time he went to work for CHAS, he’d manipulated his body into that of a Hunter. His inability to shift was the only reason they hired him.”
“So what ended up happening with CHAS? They were mad about the metal immunity stuff, right?”
“Right. CHAS sent Astor a ‘cease and desist’ letter. Astor refused. Three nights later, the house was raided. They launched tear gas through the windows. I managed to find Astor stumbling toward the lab, but Mary Beth was missing. I forced Astor out the side door and we were detained. When the smoke cleared and the guards emerged, they’d already boxed up the entire contents of the lab—including Mary Beth. We were told they found her there, gathering notes. They approached her, demanded she stop, and she tried to run. They said she tripped and fell into the barrel of leaching liquids. Her body burned in the acid.”
“Those barrels are at least three feet high and the lids are closed. How could she have tripped?” I asked.
“A very good question.” There was fire in her eyes behind the sadness and the regret.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“So am I. Astor was never the same, as you can see.”
“He loved her?”
“Yes, but it became more than that. I didn’t realize about the bond until after.”
My body stilled. “What do you mean ‘bond’?”
“From what I could get from Astor, he injected himself with Mary Beth’s blood at some point during their research phase. Something about testing the metal immunity on himself but it didn’t work. Instead, it created some sort of emotional link between them. He felt what she felt, and vice versa. It made her death that much harder on him. Sometimes I think he only acts this way to cover up the pain.”
I shuddered and stroked the orange flower until it drooped under the weight of my hand. Astor had said George and I would have a bond if I gave him my blood. Would it be this way for us? A link so strong that if one died, the other was driven insane with grief? Could I do that to him? To myself?
I cast about, searching my jumbled thoughts for something, anything, to focus on. The weight of the solution before me was too much. I needed to catch my breath; I needed facts.
“I always wondered why they used metal against Werewolves,” I said. I was aware of the way I’d said “they” instead of “we” on purpose. I wasn’t willing to put myself into the same category as CHAS any longer. “Is the purifying, or leaching, what makes it harmful?”
“That and the properties already within the material itself.” She smiled ruefully. “I forget sometimes how little you know about our culture. Yes, the leaching, or purifying, helps, but mostly it’s the fact that metal is a conductor all on its own.”
“A conductor,” I repeated. I was bombarded with mental images of Ben Franklin wielding a kite in a lightning storm. “Like for electricity?”
“Electricity is one example, but it can be harnessed into many different things. Heat, lights, and what we use it for: power. Think of it more as being a conduit for energy.”
“Where does the energy come from?”
“The term is ‘band theory.’ It’s the idea that metal is made up of energy bands, its two major components being electrons and neutrons. Just as a Werewolf is made up of two sides, so is the energy used to destroy them.”
“The second spirit,” I said, remembering Logan’s explanation.
“Exactly. Both forms of energy are highly powerful. So powerful that it’s impossible for both to occupy the same space at the same time. One always wins out. The trick is to purify the metal so its energy becomes more powerful than the energy of the Werewolf’s second spirit.”
“And once you’ve killed their second spirit, the human spirit immediately follows,” I finished.
“Typically, the human spirit is weaker than the wolf’s. The lesser the metal used, the more force is needed, or the more precise the wound. The stronger the metal, the less precise one needs with the kill shot.”
“And my dad found a way to somehow make me immune to all of it. Does that make me … immortal?”
She laughed. “Not quite. It just makes you harder to kill. It was a way to protect you. I can only imagine what you must think, hearing this for the first time, and without him here to explain himself. I am so sorry for your loss.”
We were nearing the deck again, having covered the trail twice over. I was almost glad when the canopy gave way to sunlit sky and the dry air sucked the moisture of the plants away. Without the humidity, the heat felt bearable.
“Thank you for being honest with me, for explaining it,” I said. I thought of my mother and her habit of dishing details after I already knew, and Grandma, who was probably already on a plane by now, but not necessarily to stand by me or divulge any truths. “No one else has,” I added.
“To be fair, I’m not sure they know. According to Astor, your father’s intention was to leave them in the dark as a protective measure. If the information fell into the wrong hands, he knew it could bring you harm. His whole purpose was to avoid that. For you and you mother.”
“You think she doesn’t know?”
“I think it’s worth giving her the benefit of the doubt,” she said as she climbed the deck stairs. I joined her at the railing. “He wanted you to follow in his footsteps, to maybe do what he couldn’t. Someone born of both sides would gain the ear of the Werewolves for sure, but he knew Hunters were much more stubborn, more close-minded, and more unified in their prejudices. His decision to send your wolf side into dormancy was another layer of protection. Not only would it ensure you’d grow up as one of us, it would protect you from the prying eyes of CHAS and maybe even secure you a place with them before that side of you became known.”
She patted my hand. “I’m going to check on Astor. I’ll find you after you’ve had some time.”
She began to turn away. I touched her hand and looked up at her. The sun beat down on her hair, making it shine and shimmer so hard, I blinked against it. “Thank you,” I said. She nodded, and I watched her disappear inside.
I turned back to the rail
ing, staring out over the golden canvas of the desert. Here and there, small plants rose from the ground, defying the dryness and relentless sun in their will to survive. I felt connected to them for that even as I wondered exactly who I would defy in my desire to live.
Chapter Fourteen
In the end, the decision was easy. It always would be. I had to save George. Whatever bond or connection we developed as a result, we’d figure out later.
I found George waiting for me just inside the doors. He looked like he was finishing up lunch. “How much did you eat?” I asked.
He stood and patted his stomach. “Do you think Werewolves eat more than humans?”
“I think you just proved they did.”
He grinned, but it faded quickly. “How’d it go with your teacher?”
“Good, I guess. At least I know Astor’s telling the truth about everything.”
“He’s crazy, not a liar.”
“I’m beginning to see there’s a difference.”
“So what do we do now?” he asked. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he rocked back and forth from heels to toes.
“Now, we fix you.”
He stopped rocking. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure, don’t be an idiot.” For some reason, the fact that he’d doubted my answer irritated me.
“But, Astor said we’d bond—”
“I know what Astor said. I don’t care if it joins us at the hip. I’m saving you like I promised.”
A slow smile spread across his face, the kind that lit his eyes and used to make my heart beat faster. That was then.
“Thanks, Tay.”
I smiled too, but it lacked depth. My eyes locked on his, on the eerie yellow emanating from them. Were they brighter than they had been this morning? I was watching him inch closer and closer to the edge. Only now, I could pull him back to safety. “Thank me when we’re done.” I couldn’t allow myself to feel happy yet, not until I knew whatever we were about to do actually worked. “Let’s go find Astor.”
Mathias appeared as soon as we reached the hall. He guided us to the lab, where he said Astor had gone, and disappeared again as soon as we’d reached the door.
“How does he do that?” George asked.
I didn’t answer. I noticed George’s foot tapping against the carpet as I pushed the lab door open.
It took me a moment to spot Astor. He sat on a stool in the far corner, bent over a mess of paperwork. Professor Flaherty stood next to him, calling out figures as he recorded them. She looked up as we approached.
“Hi,” I said.
She smiled at me and laid a hand on Astor’s arm. He jumped, but she directed her words to George. “George, would you please give me a hand with something across the hall?”
He cocked his head at me, questioningly. I nodded.
“Sure,” he answered.
The door closed behind them. Astor looked up at me. “Well?”
“I want to do the transfusion,” I said.
He dropped his pen and glared at me. “Why in the hell would you want to do that?” he snapped.
“Because he’s my family, my best friend.”
“That’s the worst reason I ever heard. Worse than the idea itself.”
“Saving his life is a bad idea?” I didn’t know whether to be angry or confused.
“Tying his life to yours, and yours to his, that’s the kick in the teeth.” The expression he’d worn earlier, the veil of misery, returned.
“You must have really loved her,” I said quietly. I held my breath, waiting for him to change the subject or scream or run away.
“Don’t sass me or I won’t help you,” he said in a gruff voice. I met his eyes and found them alert and steady.
“I wasn’t—” I stopped, a smile forming on my lips. “You know, I’m convinced you’re not nearly as crazy as you’d like everyone to believe.”
“I’ll be as crazy as it takes.” The moment of clarity vanished, and the mask was back in place. He stuck out his tongue, picked up his pen, and went back to work. I stood there, unsure what to say next. “Well, don’t just stand there. Fetch me the boy.”
I grinned and hurried into the hallway. Professor Flaherty and George were walking back, their hands full of syringes, clear plastic tubes, towels, and plastic vials. “Ready?” she asked me.
“I—how’d you know?”
“I’ve known him a very long time,” she said. I followed them back inside and watched as Professor Flaherty set everything up. “I may need more room,” she said to Astor. He frowned and then with one hand, reached out and swept the contents of half of a table onto the floor. Beakers broke, papers fluttered everywhere. Professor Flaherty just looked at him.
“What?” he demanded. Then he seemed to break under the pressure of her gaze. “Jeeves!” he yelled. I jumped. “Jeeves!”
Mathias appeared in the doorway, a broom and dustpan in hand. Without a word, he swept up the broken glass and replaced the paperwork neatly on another surface. “Will that be all?” he asked. Astor grunted and Mathias left.
“Let’s get on with it,” Astor said. He motioned to the stool and I sat. The sound of George’s foot tapping grew louder.
“I think I need some air,” he said abruptly. We all looked at him. His eyes were definitely a darker shade of yellow.
“You’re a little on the glowy side, son,” said Astor.
“Tara, can you handle this while I walk with George?” Professor Flaherty asked me.
“Sure, go ahead,” I said.
George turned to follow her out and I grabbed his arm. I tried to ignore the foreign look in his eyes and searched the rest of his face for signs of the real George. “Just hold on a few more minutes,” I whispered. “We’re almost there.”
He nodded and then he was gone.
I felt the pressure of a tourniquet being tied on my upper arm. “Pump your fist,” Astor instructed. I obeyed and watched as he unwrapped a fresh syringe from the packaging and then poked and prodded at the veins in the crook of my elbow. He grunted, apparently meaning he’d found one he liked. He positioned the needle tip and paused with it hovering over my skin.
“No going back after this,” he said.
“I’m aware.”
He cleared his throat. “In that case, I’d like to take a few extra samples. For research.”
I thought about that. “On one condition. You have to share all of your findings with me. No more secrets.”
We regarded each other for a moment, his eyes sharper than I’d seen before, and I had no doubt of his lucidity in that moment. He nodded. “Deal.”
Then he stuck me.
The blood drawing process was over quickly. I stood but my knees buckled and tiredness washed over me. Astor shoved a package of cookies at me, demanding I eat them. Halfway through the second stale Oreo, the dizziness eased.
Astor worked quickly, labeling and storing the vials. Three he left out on the table. Four others he labeled and put in a small refrigerator against the wall.
Professor Flaherty and George returned. He didn’t look much better, but he was hanging on. His tapping had intensified.
“Have a seat,” Professor Flaherty told him, gesturing to the stool. Astor wound the tourniquet around George’s bicep and pulled it tight. When his mouth tightened into a hard line, I stepped up to his other side and took his hand.
“You’re going to have to sit still, boy,” Astor told him, preparing a needle. Professor Flaherty worked on his other side, preparing what looked like an IV bag with clear fluids.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“A way to feed the blood into his system,” she said. “Astor will attach an IV and let the blood drip slowly, mixed with fluid. He won’t feel a thing after the initial stick.”
“You’ve gotta hold still,” I said to George. “Can you do that?”
His hand tightened in mine and his fingers stilled against my knuckles. “For a second.”
I nodded
at Astor and he slid the needle in.
George jerked a little but the needle stayed in place. I squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, hard enough I had to release my pressure and grit my teeth. I’d probably have a bruise later. I’d forgotten his strength had increased so much.
Professor Flaherty hung the IV bag on a metal hook and cleaned up the work area. By the time she’d finished, so had the bag of fluids.
I looked at George. “How do you feel?”
He yawned. “Tired.”
Astor nodded. “The transfusion won’t hold off the change. It’s coming, sooner rather than later, I’d say.”
“But for now,” Professor Flaherty said, “you’re going to be sleepy. Would you like to lie down?”
He looked at me. I nodded at him. “Might as well,” I said.
“Thanks.” He hopped off the stool and steadied himself. His eyelids drooped. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he said.
Professor Flaherty offered to walk him back to his room, and he followed her out. I stood still even after the lab door swung shut behind them. I felt empty, like the crash after a rush of adrenaline. All of that buildup, the days and weeks I’d searched in vain for another solution, the long trip here, and then the truth that had been thrown at me in all directions since arriving—all of it had led here. To a small, silent moment with an empty IV bag. And supposedly, George would be fine.
I did a mental check, trying to sense if any sort of bond existed between us. I didn’t feel anything. Maybe Astor had exaggerated. It seemed likely. All I felt was a slight tingle at the back of my neck, a feeling that had started somewhere around West Virginia, I think, and had persisted throughout the trip. I’d grown pretty good at ignoring it.
Chapter Fifteen
Mathias was, for once, nowhere to be found. I wound my way to the front hall somewhere around the third backtrack. . I was tempted to suggest they color-code the carpets. This house was ridiculous. Then again, it was sort of perfect for Astor’s personality.
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