by Lia Bevans
“According to the report Hazel emailed me, he pleaded guilty to the charges and agreed to do whatever the Council asked of him. If he wasn’t responsible, why would he take the fall? It doesn’t make sense.”
“There must be something we can’t see,” Evie said, tapping the table with her fingernail. “Something worth protecting. Something...”
“STUPID!” BLAEZ STEPPED in front of his little brother and glared. “You ran away from home to do this?” He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the abandoned subway station where Caldon and his gang had settled. He’d searched all night, scouting the derelict corners of the city until he stumbled here.
“What’s it to you?” Caldon narrowed his eyes, eyes a brighter green than Blaez’s hazel ones. “We’re not really related anyway. Just because your dad mated with my mom doesn’t make us family. So bug off!”
Blaez growled, his wolf prickling at his brother’s harsh tone. He wrestled with his anger and followed Caldon. Rocks crunched as they stepped toward the flickering lights in the distance. The thump of a bass drum rattled the solid cement walls. Looked like his friends were having a party.
Not that Blaez cared. If he could drug Caldon and drag him away from this mess he would, but there was no guarantee his brother wouldn’t come crawling right back. Teenagers. Had he been this dumb back then?
“You better stop right there,” he barked.
“Or what?” Caldon spun. “You’re going to kill me?”
“Look, I don’t want to fight with you. In case you’ve forgotten, I was the one who told you to run when those pack wolves found you setting traps. I took your place.” He thumped his chest. “What else do I need to do to get through to you?”
Caldon lifted his chin in defiance, but uncertainty flickered in his eyes. “I never asked you to do that.”
“Come on, man.” Blaez held out a hand. “I found a quiet, little apartment in a nice part of town. We can get you enrolled in school until I serve my term and then we can shake the dust of this place off our feet. We can go anywhere you like. Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“Then I want to stay here. With my friends.” Caldon’s eyes darkened. “They’re my pack now.”
“Caldon...”
“I’m sorry about getting you in trouble, but I can’t help what happened in the past. If you really care about me, walk away. Just like Dad did.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I don’t need anyone anymore. Leave me alone.”
“Caldon!” Blaez watched his brother’s back as he trotted into the subway station. Frustration mounted in his chest and fired all the way up his spine to his head. He mimed punching his brother’s head, but made no moves to follow through.
He’d failed tonight, but he had six months to convince Caldon that the life he had chosen was the wrong one.
Forcing himself to turn around, Blaez trotted to his car and drove home. Caldon’s words about their father echoed in his head as the highway blurred in front of him. Thinking about Dad always messed him up. His mind slipped to the day his father appeared and told him he had a brother.
“You take care of him now,” Dad had said. “You’re family.”
It was the first time he’d seen his father in years and the news that Caldon existed knocked him flat, made him miss his opportunity to ask his father important questions. Like how he’d been since they’d spoken last. Like where he was going. And when Blaez would be able to see him again.
He desperately wanted to believe that his father would show up one day, like he had that time. Just appear out of the blue and explain everything. Until that happened, he’d keep waiting. And taking care of Caldon.
The scenery outside his window began to change, moving from flatlands to a populated neighborhood. His apartment sat smack in the middle of a suburb. Cookie-cutter houses with dark windows and immaculately kept lawns flew past his window.
Blaez hadn’t been planning on living here for long. He’d need to look into a different place with a little more privacy. Mr. Bertram, his nosy neighbor, had a habit of peeking in on his business when he was home. Not the best situation for a werewolf trying to keep a low profile.
Money was no object. Just last month, a prominent software company had bought his seventh startup—his only true success. Blaez hadn’t felt any excitement, even after the deal went through and the money started pumping into his bank account.
He wasn’t the talk of Silicon Valley, but Blaez never intended to be. He got lucky. He knew that well. Which was why he took the money and invested—after buying his baby of course. The convertible was a lifelong dream.
He could live on his profits two times over, and eventually, the boredom would get to him and he’d start another project from scratch. But Blaez was glad he could focus on the things that mattered and not worry about bills. His brother needed his full attention and Chantal...
Well, she could use all the help she could get.
CHANTAL SLEPT IN SNATCHES. The darkness of her reality and her subconscious blurred, interchanging fluidly. It was the tea, she decided. Evie must have slipped in an herb that would help her to sleep. Sneaky woman...
The wolf inside was resting peacefully, drawing her human half in as well. It had been a while since both halves had felt the inclination to rest. Most of the time, it was her wolf that insisted on a late night prowl or a jaunt through the woods.
Werewolves were slightly different from the legends in the history books. True, they were ‘supernatural’ in their origins, but the generations of werewolves that lived in the twentieth century were born rather than bitten.
And shifting was not as pretty as it appeared in the sci-fi movies and television shows. It was painful, like enduring metamorphosis over and over again. Repetition made it easier, but the pain would remain until the day a shifter ran out of nikile, animal energy.
Nikile made them the monsters that they were, creatures that frolicked in the shadows, dancing on the fringe of a normal, human existence. It was the basis of their abilities, the foundation of all shifters. Time was like an hourglass and as nikile poured out little by little, shifting would become more dangerous.
If the energy ran out while in animal form, a person would remain that way forever. It happened to Agnes, Oscar, and Davina. Chantal had found them in the pound, looked into their eyes, and knew they were special.
Really special.
But a shifter’s nikile didn’t just run out due to old age, it could be taken as punishment. The highest penalty given to criminals by the Council and the pack. Only a few had paid such a heavy price. If she was stripped of her wolf, she’d join the ranks of thugs like Lucien.
Chantal shivered at the very mention of his name and tried to scrub him from her mind, but like bloodstains in a carpet, it lingered, seeping into the fabric of her soul until—one moment between sleep and consciousness—she saw him standing over her bed.
Her heart hammered in her chest and fear spiked ice through her veins. Chantal blinked, rubbing her eyes in the hopes that the vision of her parent’s murderer disappeared. When she opened them again, he was gone, but she did not feel at ease.
Was the vision of Lucien a dream? Or had he really stolen into her bedroom?
CHAPTER SIX
EARLY MORNING SUNLIGHT glinted off the heavy iron shutter as Chantal’s sister struggled to wrestle the door open. She pinned a stack of folders to her side with a skinny elbow, trying her best to keep the bundles together while she fought with the door.
Blaez watched from his perch in the convertible parked across the street and, after waiting five seconds for the woman to succeed on her own, decided to help. He smoothly climbed out of his car and trotted toward her.
“Need a hand with that?”
“Ah!” She jumped, throwing her arms in the air. The folders sprang open, shaking the contents free on the sidewalk.
Blaez blinked in surprise. “You okay?”
“Does it look like I’m o
kay? You scared me!” She knelt to gather the papers. Blaez flicked the shutter up with his pinky finger, waiting for Chantal’s sister to rescue her precious files. He knew she wouldn’t appreciate it if he bent down to help her and so remained standing.
Blaez stuck his hands into his pockets, battling annoyance. He had never met a pair of more exasperating, pig-headed women in his life. And that was saying something. Blaez had ladies who hung on his every word, but the Sommers sisters? The fact that he breathed pissed them off.
“What are you doing here?” Brown eyes bore into his. Blaez wondered for a moment if he’d mistaken Chantal’s sister for a human when she was, in fact, a wolf. The way her eyes narrowed so fearlessly gave him the impression she could turn at will.
“I’m here to do my hours.”
“We’re not opening today.” She stuck her key into the lock and tossed the words over her shoulder. “You can leave.”
“Wait.” He held the door open with his hand. A look of fright passed in the woman’s eyes before she straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin and stared down her nose at him. Blaez sighed. “Have you heard from Chantal? Or the kid?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I could just stop by her farm and check for myself.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He dropped his gaze to the sidewalk. Yeah, Blaez. Why didn’t you?
He didn’t have an answer for that. All he knew was Chantal needed help. But if she was anything like her sister, there was no way she’d accept his assistance happily.
The receptionist shifted her weight and set a hand on her hip. “After what happened last night, it’s best you keep your distance from us. You were there when Chantal turned that boy. I’m sure your pack won’t approve of you hanging around.”
He chuckled. “My pack? I don’t have a pack.”
Her confidence faltered. “You don’t? But... aren’t you a part of Hazel’s clan?”
“Hazel?” He scratched his chin. “You mean the judge that sentenced me to do community service?” He pictured the woman who’d looked over his case, scolded him to kingdom come and then gave him months of community service, informing him she’d let him off easy.
Come to think of it, Blaez’s bad luck with the ladies had all started with her.
Chantal’s sister eyed him thoughtfully and then, to his surprise, she widened the door. “Come in.”
Blaez blinked, standing frozen in the doorway. What was with the sudden invitation? Was it a trap? He eyed her face—guarded brown eyes, downturned mouth, and arched eyebrows. Her opinion of him was still unpleasant, so why the change?
“If you don’t want to...?” She stepped back and swung the door closed.
Blaez shimmied in before it slammed completely. “I’m here.”
A smiled played with her lips. She spun and walked into the room, lifting the shades to half-mast. Despite her care, a generous amount of sunshine slipped into the lobby. Blaez loped to the nearest window and raised the blinds.
“Why don’t you pull this all the way?” he asked.
“We have mostly older shifters on our staff. Their eyes are sensitive to the light.”
He nodded, watching as she rounded the long desk and took something from the surface. Her heels clopped against the floor with every step she took toward him. Blaez leaned back, taking in her white blouse stuffed into a navy skirt. She reminded him of a stewardess sans colorful necktie.
“Yesterday, I didn’t catch your name.”
She lowered herself daintily into the chair beside him and crossed her long legs. “Theresa Sommers.”
“I’m—”
“I know who you are. Blaez Dramoth. Twenty-eight. Charged with cruelty and aggravated assault with intention to harm. You set traps to maim your own kind. I’d understand why you’d do that if you were a moody teenager, but at that age you have no excuse.”
“Is that so?”
She nodded. “You are the very definition of a bastard.”
His eyes darkened as his wolf growled. He didn’t like name-calling. Especially the kind that grouped him in with the likes of his father. Blaez pulled his hands together to restrain himself and said through gritted teeth, “Looks like you did your homework.”
“Hazel emailed your file. Though she gave me the impression you were one of her pack. I’m glad you’re not.” She inhaled a deep breath and stuffed a paper beneath his nose. “Because it would have made my request complicated.”
He tapped his finger against the file in his hand. “What is it?”
“A contract.”
He frowned and flipped the page over, skimming the contents. “You’re offering to write off my community service hours?”
“You’ll be free to do as you please without setting a foot in this building. I’ll let the wolf pack know you fulfilled your responsibilities. Of course, you won’t be able to leave the state until the end of your term, but there’s nothing I can do about that.”
This was too good to be true. Blaez had sat in enough boardroom meetings to know that such seductive incentives came with a heavy price tag. “What’s the catch?”
“In exchange I need you to do something.”
Blaez tilted his head, prompting her to continue.
Terry swallowed and said, “The little boy Chantal saved last night... I need you to kill him.”
“THERE’S NO WAY THAT little boy should be alive,” the doctor said, pushing his glasses higher up his large nose. He glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Moore and then at Chantal. “But what’s more astonishing... he’s not just alive. He’s completely healed.”
“Healed?” Mrs. Moore crushed her delicate white handkerchief between slender fingers. She’d been bawling on and off since Chantal had arrived at the hospital half an hour ago. Mrs. Moore was only a couple years older than her, yet the woman had red eyes and more wrinkles around her mouth than Evie.
“Yes.” Dr. Millan, a colleague she’d made through Wildlife For Humanity, pointed to the x-rays in his hand. “This is Connor’s previous lab work. You can see the cancer spreading here and here.” He brought up a new sheet. “But our tests today say that... it’s gone.”
“Gone?” Mr. Miller choked. “How can it be gone? Is that even possible?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask Chantal.” Doctor Millan glanced at her, dull blue eyes sizzling with excitement. “I heard you were the one who stumbled on Connor last night. Did anything happen that could explain this—for lack of a better term—miracle?”
She gritted her teeth and forced a smile. “Nope. No clue.”
“I don’t know what to say!” Mr. Moore fisted his arms and pumped them at the ceiling. “This is amazing. Thank you!”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to run a few more tests...”
“No.” Mrs. Moore shook her head. Her curly blonde hair swept her broad shoulders. “No more tests. If my baby’s really okay, if what you’re saying is true, I don’t want him anywhere near a hospital. I don’t want to see these walls for a moment longer.”
“Mrs. Moore,” Dr. Millan held out a hand, “just because our scans turned up nothing, doesn’t mean Connor has a free bill of health. I’d like to do one more round of testing to confirm there’s not a glitch in the machine or—”
“I said no.” Connor’s mother slammed her heel against the tile and burned Dr. Millan with her gaze. “What part of that didn’t you understand? Get my baby out of here.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Mr. Moore said. He shot Chantal a stiff nod and then chased after his wife who was charging down the hall.
Uncomfortable silence swept between Chantal and the doctor. At last, he gripped his hands in front of his lab coat and sighed. “It really is extraordinary. I’ve never seen anyone heal from that type of cancer.”
She cleared her throat and pointed to the hospital room. “Can Connor have visitors?”
“Yes, but don’t be offended if he’s not in the mood for company. He had to fast for his tests.”
“A hungry kid is a grumpy kid.”
“Got it.” The doctor smiled and walked away. Chantal took a deep breath and opened the hospital door. Unlike the other wards, the pediatric area had bright blue walls and yellow suns painted all over the place. Natural light streamed past the large windows displaying a picturesque view of the city.
Children in yellow and white hospital gowns occupied three of the six beds. Chantal walked deeper into the room and spotted Connor in the cot nearest to the window. He was staring straight out the glass, lost in thought.
“Anybody home?” she whispered, tiptoeing to his side.
Surprise sparked in his clear blue eyes. “Ms. Chantal?”
“Hey, kiddo.” She grinned. It was such a relief to see him back to normal. Chantal had only heard of were-creatures sharing their energy through blood, but she had never seen it done in person. Looked like Connor had taken to nikile well.
“You here to scold me for running away like everybody else?” he asked, tilting his chin and looking far older than his age.
“No.” She held out a hand. “I’m here to make a deal.”
He eyed her fingers suspiciously. “A deal?”
“You can stop by the farm anytime. Day or night.”
“Really?” He smiled a little and then the grin drooped. “What do you want in exchange?”
“Promise me you’ll get your parent’s permission before you go anywhere.”
“Why should I have to do that?” His face darkened. “My parents are—”
“Connor!” Mrs. Moore tore into the room. Her face was red and her hair rumpled. Chantal guessed her conversation with Mr. Moore hadn’t gone well. The woman ignored her and took Connor by the hand. “Put on your shoes. We’re leaving.”
He snatched his arm back. Both Chantal and Mrs. Moore stared at the kid with wide-eyes. Connor didn’t seem to care that he was being incredibly rude. Chantal felt her temper igniting. He had no idea how fortunate he was to have a mother, never mind one who cared so much about him.
