by Aline Hunter
Slowly she turned her head, peered past Diskant’s arm and gazed at the Shepherd. The beautiful enchantress was gone, replaced by a woman who had clearly seen something so disturbing she couldn’t stomach it. Her irises shifted color, revealing her bloodbond to the pack for the first time.
“There’s more to it. Isn’t there, Moses?” She struggled to her feet, shrugging aside Diskant’s hand when he tried to help her.
She walked to the Shepherd without hesitation, placed her hand across his face as he started to squirm and closed her eyes. It only took a moment for her to let go and, when she did, she immediately bent at the waist and dry heaved, using the back of the chair the Shepherd was seated in for balance.
“Ava?” Diskant went to her again and this time she accepted his support, leaning into him when he wrapped an arm around her waist. She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth and stared at the Shepherd, her sapphire eyes brimming with hate and outrage.
“The shifters in this room aren’t who you should be afraid of. Not really. They want you dead but they won’t damn you to hell.”
Her words caused the Shepherd to pale but had the opposite effect on the man across the room. He began rocking his body until the legs of the chair began to wobble. Brian stepped forward and placed his hand on the back rail, keeping it in place. Tension built inside the suddenly confining space until the shifters began to growl in response.
“Tell him, you sorry sack of shit,” she whispered venomously, glowering at the Shepherd. When he remained silent, she threatened, “Tell him, or I will.”
Still he remained as he was, refusing to speak, lips firmly pressed together.
“You know,” she moved from Diskant’s embrace, “I would have asked them to show you some mercy. Now you’re going to wish you’d done the right thing while you had the chance.”
She walked toward the man who snarled and struggled in his chair even as it remained firmly in place. When she finally reached him she elicited shocked gasps from several of the pack when she reached out and smoothed a lock of hair away from his forehead, her touch undeservingly gentle. If her intention was to calm the man, she only made him worse. He jerked from her hand, pressing as far back as he could.
“Ava,” Diskant ground out, his tone a definite warning. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Everyone needs to leave,” she said and glanced over her shoulder to look Diskant in the eye.
Again they stared at each other for several long, agonizing seconds in that eerie fashion that told Trey they were speaking to each other somehow. Diskant glanced at the man just out of Ava’s reach before he turned to study the Shepherd.
Trey started forward but stopped when Diskant shook his head. “We have a lot to discuss, but not right now.” Diskant gazed at the faces inside the room. “Everyone, out.”
Kinsley complied without comment, taking the stairs two at a time, but each wolf shifter in the room stood in a stunned silence, waiting for Trey’s acquiescence. Diskant might be the Omega but, as their Alpha, Trey’s order was the one they’d follow.
“D—” Trey started to argue but Diskant cut him short.
“You want me to take your place? Trust me enough to do what I say without question.”
Damn it.
Trey knew that the decision he made here could make or break him. Diskant had just staked his place as Alpha, giving Trey an instruction instead of a request. If he wanted to continue with his plans he had to back Diskant’s decision in front of the pack, solidifying his faith in the shifter he’d chosen to lead and protect them.
“You heard the man,” Trey growled in frustration and all of the pack moved at once. He hiked his thumb in the direction of the stairs and made sure Diskant was looking at him when he warned, “As soon as your ass comes upstairs, we’re going to have a nice, long chat.”
“Save us some pizza,” Diskant responded, catching him off guard, and turned away before Trey could say anything more.
“Fucking smart-ass,” Trey grumbled as he took four long strides and started climbing the stairs.
The pain was incredible, so consuming it was difficult for Ava to breathe. It wrapped around her, cocooned her and shrouded her in misery. She continued stroking the forehead of the tortured man in front of her, unable to bear his grief, and felt her heart break when she glimpsed the fact that no one had laid a loving hand on him since his wife had died a year before.
His wife—Andrea.
The enormity of his loss—a wife and soon-to-be-born daughter—was equal to that the pack was experiencing, although she knew some would argue the point. Once she might have agreed that the impact and devastation was worsened by the sheer number of those who had died, but since she also knew what it meant to love and need someone so utterly and completely that it consumed you, she realized they would be wrong. This man had lost the thing most important to him, as well as a part of him he had never been given the opportunity to know, to hold, to adore.
“You’d better start explaining.” Diskant tugged her away from the man and, in the doing, severed the connection between them, forcing her to grasp Diskant’s arm to keep balanced as he pressed into her space, his large body brushing against her. “Stop shutting me out. It’s disorienting, and I don’t like sensing your pain when I don’t understand what’s causing it.”
“I’m sorry, I knew you didn’t want anyone to know that I could read their thoughts or share yours and I wasn’t sure what to do. This was too important.” She expelled the words in a rush, keeping her voice low. “I only sought out the answers you requested, looking into Moses’ mind to see what they had planned for the shifters, Emory and Mary. I can’t see what I’m not searching for, and I wouldn’t have thought to look until I started reading Caden and realized there is so much more involved.”
Instead of answering any more of his questions, Ava opened the link between them and sagged in his arms as the horrific and heartbreaking images flashed through her mind.
Once again she smelled the stomach-churning rustiness of blood, urine, feces and decay. But it was nothing compared to the mental picture of the heavily pregnant woman who rested upon the floor, coated in the dried substances, her stomach shredded by what appeared to be raking claw marks. Her face had matching wounds that ran from her left temple and across, her nose entirely gone along with her upper lip. And sticking out of one of the wounds in her abdomen was a clearly visible hand that was tiny yet perfectly formed…
“Holy fucking Christ,” Diskant snarled and Ava felt him shift slightly, aware through their merging that he was studying the man—Caden—in an entirely different manner now.
“That’s not all.” She braced herself as she dredged up the rest, allowing Diskant to see everything. These images weren’t as graphic because she’d stopped once she’d learned the truth. It wasn’t necessary to witness the event in its entirety, not when the pieces were already presented for her to place together. For whatever reason—karma, serendipity or dumb fucking luck—Moses had been a part of the crew that killed Andrea Stone—Caden Stone’s wife.
“They never thought he could be a threat, not once they convinced him a shifter killed his wife. With the evidence they gave him, he never bothered to question them.”
Pulling away from Diskant, she looked at Caden. He wasn’t struggling anymore, sitting quiet and still as he listened to their conversation. He’d been killing shifters for months, vengeance and pain driving his actions, with little concern for the blood he’d shed. Now he thought about the people he killed and the memories merged with those of his deceased wife.
If we can get him to see the truth, she said to Diskant telepathically. You’ll be able to gain so much more than I can give you. He’s been inside their inner circle and knows things I wouldn’t possibly think to look for. She hesitated, projecting her intent, revealing just how vital the man could be in locating Mary, assisting Trey and aiding the pack. He could help you.
You won’t be able to convince him, a
nd even if you could you probably shouldn’t. Diskant’s response was laden with sympathy and doubt. He’s a living dead man, Ava. He eats, he breathes, he exists but he’s not alive. There is nothing inside him that brings joy or peace. He’s driven by one purpose and one purpose only—to kill those responsible for ruining his life and avenge his wife and child. You won’t find a man inside him but a monster. That’s what he’s become.
What Diskant said was true and it made the weighty ache in her chest all the worse.
After everything he’s suffered, he deserves a chance. If he isn’t willing to listen after we offer him what he desires most, you can do what needs to be done.
Diskant’s fingers pressed into the softness of her hips. What are you planning?
This.
She slid from Diskant’s hold and faced the man whose eye was now swollen shut. Gone from his mind was the need to curse and spit at her, to lash out at her for who she was, a woman involved with a murdering animal. Now he was intrigued—cautious but definitely curious, which was a good thing. When she reached him she pulled the gag from his mouth and stepped back.
“Your wife was a reporter for The United Herald, wasn’t she? That’s how you met. She was investigating a story in Memphis and your paths crossed.”
“How do you know that?” His question gave her goose bumps, spoken in a tone so eerie she hesitated for a moment.
“Because I’ve seen what happened to her—what they did to her,” she answered and folded her arms over her chest. “I know how she died.”
“Don’t listen to anything she says.” Moses broke his silence, though his words were shaky. “She beds down with the damned willingly and will say and do anything to protect them.”
The rag in her hand was ripped away and Ava watched as Diskant walked to the Shepherd, grabbed a handful of hair at the base of his neck and shoved the cloth soiled with blood and saliva into his mouth.
“If we want your opinion,” Diskant said as he released Moses’ head with a hard shove, sending his chin into his chest, “we’ll ask for it.”
“Tell me.” Caden’s featherlight plea tore her eyes away from Diskant until her focus was entirely on him. The desperation in his face was heartbreaking, so damn agonizing it hurt to look at him.
“Be sure that’s what you want. Make absolutely certain this is something you need to see.”
“To see?”
“To see how she died, Caden.”
Ava was forced to sever any connection she shared with the grieving man at that point. It was too caustic, too overwhelming. Several emotions flickered across his face—anger, pain, fury—until he gazed up at her, determination etched in the firm set of his jaw and the glint in his eyes.
“Show me.”
“Bring him closer.” Ava glanced at Moses and indicated the place beside her.
Diskant stepped behind the chair, grasped the back until it balanced on two legs and dragged it across the distance. He stopped next to Ava and let go, waiting for her instructions. She took a deep breath. She had only attempted what she was about to do once with her mother and father. It hadn’t been an entirely pleasant experience, and she steeled herself.
“I can’t sever the connection once I start. You’ll have to make sure I don’t fall,” she whispered to Diskant as she extended her hands—one to Caden and one to Moses—and closed her eyes.
The moment she made contact with each man, her hands resting atop their heads, she opened a link between them, delving into their subconsciouses to access the memories within, sorting through each until she found the exact moment in time she sought before allowing their minds to merge.
Diskant caught her as she staggered, the horrific images no less difficult to stomach the second time around. Unlike before she couldn’t stem the flow of thoughts or refrain from delving too deeply, and was forced to relieve past events as if she were a participant rather than an observer. Moses’ hands became her hands, his eyes were those that guided her and his feet carved the path inside the dark kitchen containing a trapped woman who pleaded for her life and that of her unborn child.
Moses stared at Andrea as she retreated, his eyes following her movements inside the room from which there was no escape. The light from the moon shone through the lone window situated over the sink with flowing, lacy curtains as she passed. She stumbled over her feet, her protruding belly keeping her off balance, and fell to the floor.
A shadow appeared on the left, becoming larger until the form of another man came into Moses’ view. He was clothed from head to toe in black, his right hand gloved inside a mitt with large, clawlike extensions.
“You should have left when you had the chance.” A man’s throaty voice reverberated through the kitchen, echoing from behind Moses.
“Please,” Andrea begged, hands clutching her swollen abdomen. “I’ll leave. I’ll get my things and go. I won’t say anything to anyone.”
“What about your husband?” the voice taunted. “Do you think the good detective will walk away without question? Do you expect us to believe he’s unaware of the hot news story you’ve uncovered?”
“He doesn’t know anything.” Andrea’s words were clogged with tears. “I never told him anything, I swear.”
“You’d better hope not.” The voice came closer until the man speaking stood at Moses’ other side. “Or he’ll be visiting you soon.”
Andrea’s eyes widened as she turned from the man speaking and faced the threat coming from her right. The shadowed figure draped in black with the clawed hand advanced, one foot front in front of the other.
Moses turned after the first blow landed, ripping through the softness of her stomach and shielding hands, sending blood splattering against the ivory-colored counters and cabinets. His nausea rolled through Ava, Caden and Diskant, his disgust and inability to process the death of an innocent too difficult to witness.
Moses rushed from the room, trying to block out the screams, desperate to make it outside. He hit the back door running, taking large strides toward the brush along the side of the house where he could empty his stomach. A mixture of vegetable soup and cornbread from dinner littered the ground as he heaved into the untrimmed foliage. He retched until there was nothing left to vomit, he was spitting drool and the muscles in his stomach protested.
By the time the last spasm had passed, leaving him gasping for breath, the screams from inside the house had stopped.
Murderer. The word resounded in Moses’ mind. Beating down on him, clamoring in his ears. Men of god didn’t kill women and children. Not even if they were a danger to his congregation.
It was a sin.
It was a breaking of the commandments.
Even if he didn’t kill the woman, whose only crime was to uncover information about his people—unearthing the secret life of Shepherds—he was equally guilty. He had guided the assassin hired to spill the blood that wouldn’t touch Shepherd hands but would stain it nonetheless, bringing them to Andrea Stone’s front door and then standing idly by as the life she was granted was snuffed, along with the soul who had never been gifted with his or her first breath.
The sound of the screen door opening and then slamming shut arrived before the steady crunch of gravel by stomping feet. Closer those steps came, and closer…
A firm hand grasped the shirt between Moses’ shoulder blades, forcing him upright, and he gazed into the face of the man he knew only as Mr. Pink. His appearance was deceptive. He looked every bit the educated and refined businessman, nothing at all like a vicious killer. His ink-black hair was smoothed back, his face carefully shaven and his suit immaculately pressed. Moses caught his terrifying black stare before promptly looking away.
Looking Mr. Pink in the eye was inviting death.
The hand at his back vanished and Moses staggered as he swiped the pads of his fingers across his mouth. The bitter stench of bile and stomach acid rose to his nose, causing his stomach to churn once more.
“Get your shit together.”
Mr. Pink’s voice didn’t reveal anything about the man’s mood. “I want you to get in your truck, drive away and don’t look back. When you make it home tell your boss that the job he hired me for has been done to his satisfaction. I expect my money to be dropped off at the agreed upon location before the sun rises.”
Moses stumbled to his truck, parked alongside a glistening black Camaro, noting the full circular swell of the moon in the antique vehicle’s surface. He tore his eyes away as he climbed into the GMC that was equally old but not as well kept. The keys were waiting in the ignition, jangling together as the cabin shifted to support Moses’ weight.
As he started the motor and pulled away, he glanced into the rearview mirror. Mr. Pink stood there watching—in the same position Moses had left him…
The vision vanished and Ava pulled her hands away, severing the connection.
She would have fallen had Diskant’s arm not kept her steady, her legs liquid as water.
Damn it.
She wasn’t going to stay conscious for long. It had been too much and had required energy that she didn’t have. She gasped when Diskant bent over and swept her into his arms, situating her against his chest. Her lids flitted down as she fought off drowsiness and shook her head, peering at the men who had shared the past and now would come to terms with it.
Moses didn’t speak, his head bent so that his chin was pressed against his chest. The defensive position didn’t hide the tears streaming down his cheeks or the silent sobs that racked his body. Ava knew something that she hadn’t shared with Caden, something she’d sensed the moment she’d first pressed Moses’ mind. The Shepherd was laden with guilt, and had been even more so since his brethren had convinced the man investigating the murder of his wife that creatures were responsible for her death. It hadn’t been difficult. The crime scene was consistent with an animal attack. In an effort to test Moses’ worth, after gaining Caden’s trust Moses was placed alongside the man who was a constant reminder of the horrors he’d witnessed, a virtual demon hovering over his shoulder.
