by Hettie Ivers
“She wanted a say in her own final destiny. When Nahuel killed my grandparents, he robbed her of the only world that she knew. Then she came here, and Alex took her future choices from her when he forced her to stay and be part of his pack.”
She’d obviously given this a lot of thought. Maybe more than I had over the years.
“This room”—she looked around the small space—“those videos … it was the only environment she felt she could control. She watched the same stories again and again.” Jussara’s eyes, so much like her late mother’s, grew bright as they misted with tears. “She knew all the endings by heart. I think there was a comfort in that because her own ending had become her worst looming fear. The telenovelas—they were safe.”
“But she was safe here with me. From the very first day she arrived. I always kept her safe.”
“You did. I know you did. And she knew it, too.” She cupped my cheek in her hand. “I used to think it was all about me, too. That she’d done it to try and save me from a connection to the Salvatella pack. And maybe in part she did. For so long, I held onto such guilt over it. Until I realized, she came here to the Reinoso compound for me. She stayed and carved out an important place within this world for me.” She dropped her hand from my cheek and slapped it against her knee. “Hell, I think the only reason she never slept with you was because of me. But leaving this world—she did that for herself.”
What? Jussara was the reason Lupe had never slept with me?
“Maybe it helped for her to rationalize that she was doing it to save me from a connection to Nahuel’s family and to save Milena from a faulty blood curse, but in the end, those things were only to justify the first arguably selfish move that she’d made since her parents’ murder.” She clasped my hands in hers. “She knew how much it would hurt all of us. Especially you. And she did it anyway. Because she had to put her own needs first in the end.”
I shook my head. “I could’ve found another way. She shouldn’t have had to resort to help from Maribel. I could’ve—”
“No, Tio. You couldn’t have.” She bit her lip. As her eyes overflowed with tears, I had the worst sense that they were for me. “You did everything right by her. By us. What’s done is done. You have to let it go. You have to let her go.”
I felt his telltale trail of magic invade the house seconds before Kai teleported into the hallway outside Lupe’s sitting room. He hadn’t yet mastered my sister’s finesse for teleporting.
I knew Jussara had felt Kai’s entry, too. She’d begun wiping at her tears and composing herself before he knocked on the doorjamb to announce his presence.
“Sorry for the intrusion. I wanted to catch you before you left.”
“It’s fine,” she told him with a smile. “I do need to get going,” she said to me. She threw her arms around my neck and gave me a good squeeze. “Try and remember, it was her choice, okay? She just wanted a choice for once. We have to honor that.”
I hugged her tightly back, wishing that we had more time, that Kai wasn’t in the room with us, and that I wasn’t such an emotionally bereft dolt at a loss for what to say to her where her mother was concerned.
She gave Kai a hug, too, promising that she and Milena would visit us in America next if we didn’t come back to Brazil soon.
Uncomfortable silence descended upon Lupe’s sitting room after Jussara left. Kai stood there awkwardly, just a few feet within the doorway, while I pretended to be watching the telenovela on the screen.
“You still want to head back later today, right?” he asked at last. “Because we have that meeting in Denver tomorrow.”
I nodded.
“You sleep at all?”
I shrugged.
He turned his attention to the episode playing on the television. “I don’t think I ever saw this one.”
“Why would you have?”
My snap reply had come out sounding like I was accusing him of something, so it shouldn’t have surprised me when he huffed and returned defensively, “Why wouldn’t I have? I watched every single episode of 2-5499 Ocupado on rerun with Lupe during the summer of eighty-nine, thank you very much.”
I racked my brain a moment and recalled that 1989 was the summer I’d been away on a mission with Kaleb. At my request, Kai had stayed behind to look after Lupe and Jussara while I’d been gone.
“I remember the ongoing arguments Lupe and I had over the implausibility of Emily and Larry’s relationship like it was yesterday,” Kai said with a chuckle. I felt myself scowl as I watched a stupid, wistful grin spread across his face. “I mean the absurdity of that entire storyline was beyond measure. Did you ever watch that one with her? The one about the woman in prison who was a telephone operator?”
It was one thing to wax nostalgic with Jussara. It was another thing to do it with Kai. I didn’t want to share memories of Lupe with Kai. Not even the ones that were already his—as irrational as it was. As he began to reminisce aloud about other ridiculous telenovela plotlines he’d debated with Lupe over the years, I cracked.
“Hey, I got an outlandish, over-the-top storyline for you,” I cut off his sentimental musings. “Remember that time when my best friend’s dead mate who wasn’t all the way dead killed the only woman I ever loved?”
“Okay.” Kai held his palms up and backed out through the doorway. “My apologies for interrupting your telenovela. We’ll talk later.”
Fuck. “Kai, look, I’m sorry,” I called after him. “I didn’t mean to say it like it was your fault.” Except I did.
I definitely did.
He leaned his shoulder into the doorframe and nodded slowly at the floor. “You know, you’re not the only one who lost Lupe.”
He was right. But it was the last thing I wanted to hear. From him in particular.
I nodded. “I know.”
“It’s been almost ten years, Al.”
As if I didn’t know? God, there he went with his condescending tone again.
“I really think … maybe it’s time you stopped mourning your loss with meaningless sex and channeled that grief into something more constructive. I think Lupe would’ve—”
“You know what Lupe would’ve wanted?” I was suddenly standing. And shouting. His arrogance and presumption had finally eroded whatever thin restraint I’d been clinging to. “Lupe would’ve wanted you to get your dick wet just once this fucking century! Did you ever think that maybe I feel compelled to fuck enough pussy for the both of us? To make up for how you’ve mishandled Lupe’s sacrifice?”
His eyes widened. Then they narrowed. “Mishandled her sacrifice?” He looked affronted.
Good.
I tossed my arms in the air at his endless pompous ignorance. “Lupe died for your mated dick’s freedom. She made a deal with the devil so that you wouldn’t have to stay tied to a psycho undead bitch for all eternity.”
“No.” Kai’s jaw tightened. “She died to free herself from an eternity with Nahuel. It’s like Jussara said. She wanted a choice for once.”
“A choice? Oh, please, that psychobabble bullshit sounds like just the sort of thing Remy would say to put a positive, empowering spin on things for Jussara’s benefit in order to try and get into her pants.” I leveled my pointer finger in his face. “And by the way, I will fucking kill him and all the rest of you if I find out that he has gotten into those pants and you guys have been keeping it from me.”
“Do you hear yourself? Jussara’s pushing sixty. And she’s not your daughter.”
“She might as well be!”
“I’m going to go now. I’ll come back later when your ice cream hangover has worn off.”
“Lupe was manipulated, and you know it. She was preyed upon. Used.” I hissed the word at him. “Misled by that demon undead bitch of yours that you’re still actively pining over even after everything that you know she’s done.”
His eyes flashed bright blue, and I tasted a moment’s satisfaction knowing that at least I’d gotten a reaction out of the wol
f, if not the man, as he growled, “She is still my mate.”
“Really? Well, I don’t see a mark on you anymore.” I shrugged. “And there’s a body count over ninety-eight years long to show for how hard she worked to be rid of you. Maybe you should think about that fact the next time you’re stroking your dick to her glorious memory.”
The sound of fabric rending was instantaneous, and the white wolf was on me before I’d managed to shift—having wasted a half-second relishing the victory of his wolf’s reaction.
Avery
When in doubt, throw a flashbang.
I think I read that advice off a fortune cookie once. Or maybe it was my cell wall at juvie. Those little buggers had saved my ass more than a few times—both before and after turning werewolf.
So when one of the werewolves broke from the group fighting the surfer werelock to lunge in my direction as he saw me fishing through my bag, I grabbed the next best thing to the fresh clip I’d been searching for, pulled the pin, and threw the stun grenade at him before closing my eyes and plugging my ears at the last moment.
I was on my feet as soon as the flash behind my closed eyelids settled. I opened my eyes as the same werewolf stumbled into—onto—me, swearing his annoyance at the effects of the flashbang as he knocked me back to the ground. I jerked my knee into his groin at the first opportunity, but he still managed to get a decent, if awkward, hold on me. I had the right angle and leverage to head-butt him in the throat, so I went for it, but my head met cool air as he was torn off me.
“Someone needs new moves.” The surfer werelock was standing above me, wearing an affable grin as he extended a hand to help me up. “You’re kinda predictable.” He tilted his face in profile, showcasing an earplug he was wearing.
“Sonofa—”
Two huge, growling wolves jumped onto him before I could finish that thought. They looked like they were fresh to the party, too, not at all disoriented by my stun grenade like the rest of the group in the alley was—aside from the cocky surfer, of course, who had just morphed into a giant, black and white wolf.
I grabbed my bag and ran while I still had a chance. I hadn’t sprinted more than thirty feet before a bullet whizzed by my head. I threw my shoulder into the next building rear door I came upon, intending to cut through whatever business or residence it might be. The door didn’t budge. I tried kicking it in. No dice. Fuck. Since when had RiNo become a secure, safe neighborhood?
Another bullet hit the brick wall next to me. I bobbed and proceeded to sprint, weaving an unpredictable pattern as I went. I was almost to the next block, where I’d be able to slip down another street. But as I reached the corner, a muscled forearm came out of nowhere and hooked around my waist.
Before I could give in to my instinctive response to kick and fight free from whoever had grabbed hold of me, a bizarre nothingness encompassed me. Literally, my form ceased to exist. I was nothing but air, surrounded by darkness, lacking even the lungs to scream my panic.
But in the next moment, I was standing on Blake Street—two blocks from where I’d been grabbed.
Jesus Christ. That had not just happened.
What had just happened?
“You okay?”
I gulped air into my lungs and swayed on my feet as the arm released me. I inhaled the faint aroma of sea salt and surfboard wax. And … magic—a rare fragrance I recognized only because my daughter carried a similar, albeit more faint, underlying scent.
“This the right parking garage?”
Wide-eyed, I met the nonchalant features of the surfer-boy werelock standing next to me. He jutted his chin at the parking structure beside us—as if this were all perfectly normal and he’d just transported me here on his skateboard rather than by violating the laws of matter and energy.
I was in deep shit. I had to get away from this guy.
Unsure of how I should answer, I simply shook my head and went with, “I don’t know.”
“You got a ride somewhere on Blake Street, though, right?”
Again, I shook my head. Who was this superbeast? How did he know?
“Who are you?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking aloud.
“I’m a friend,” he said with a smile. He sniffed the air and squinted up at the structure. “I think there are a few more up there.” He scrubbed a hand over his chin. “I’d tell you to wait for me, but I know you won’t.” He glanced at me, then up at the structure, like he was deliberating something. “Okay.” His eyes leveled on mine. “Watch your back in there. I’m gonna take care of the ones left in the alley. Then I’ll be back to help you clear the structure, all right?”
In the next breath, he was gone—vanished into thin air.
Maybe there’d been a hallucinogenic in my eggs Benedict.
I shook my head. It was all crazy. But so was my life. I didn’t have the luxury of time to wonder why.
I entered the structure and ran inside the nearest stairwell. Taking the steps four at a time, I didn’t scent anything beyond urine-soaked concrete until I was racing up the last flight before level three. Shit. Why hadn’t I inserted a fresh clip when I’d had the chance?
My hand dove frantically into my bag just as I reached the third floor landing. But a heavy boot landed a kick to my stomach as a male werewolf burst through the open entryway to the parking area, sending me flying backward down the stairwell.
My body smacked hard against the concrete landing below. Pain radiated through my hipbone that had borne the brunt of my fall. My eyes shifted; my claws emerged. Don’t shift. Don’t shift.
The guy who’d kicked me called out, “I’ve got her.” He had an accent. European. German maybe. “Get the van!”
So they wanted to take me with them. Alive or dead was the critical question. I placed my bet on alive and rolled the dice.
“My knee,” I cried out. “I can’t move it.” I groaned and made a show of being injured as the booted beast jumped to the landing next to me. I scanned his body and caught sight of a weapon strapped to his midsection, beneath his left arm. Booyah.
“Don’t hurt me, please,” I said in as frightened a voice as I could manage, casting my best helpless girl eyes up at the beefy blond stranger looking down at me.
His hard blue eyes softened just a fraction. I scented no magic on him like I had on the surfer guy, so he was likely a normal werewolf. He looked young. And uncertain—like he was suddenly unsure of his mission or why I was his prey. He probably wasn’t that bad of a guy when it came down to it—just another rogue hunter blindly following his pack leader’s marching orders.
But that was enough for me. It was his life or Sloane’s.
I shifted my hips and cried out in agony, curling inward and clutching my leg just above the knee. “I think it’s broken.”
When he foolishly crouched down next to me, I made my move. Pretending to be terrified, I shrieked, “Don’t hurt me!” and jerked my body away from him, leading him to lean in closer, at which point I flailed forward again, head-butting him in the nose, grabbing the gun from his holster, and shooting him twice in the chest and once in the leg.
Despite his injuries and the shock of my attack, he fought back, clawing at me as I put him in a chokehold, flipped him over my shoulder, and hefted him up and over the open outer concrete ledge of the stairwell, letting his big body drop to the sidewalk several stories below.
I wiped his fresh blood coating my hands on my jeans so that his gun wouldn’t slip from my fingers, checked my new weapon’s bullet count, grabbed my backpack, and headed back up the stairs, prepared to take on whoever he’d told to get the van as tires screeched to a stop inside the garage.
The ache in my hipbone from my fall was bad. Even the adrenaline fueling me didn’t prevent me from hobbling a little as I went, hugging the wall and holding my gun at the ready as I approached the entryway door to the parking area. I’d be in trouble if I needed to run.
I heard a car door open and steadied my grip as I listened to the footsteps c
oming closer. One guy. Was that possible? It seemed too easy. Unless I was missing something? They seemed to want me alive based on the other guy’s reaction. But that didn’t mean this guy wouldn’t hesitate to injure me—especially when I attacked.
The footsteps stopped. I heard the metallic click of a magazine locking in place. Shit. Do or die, Avery.
I was about to go for it when the surfer werelock materialized out of nowhere, his broad back facing me and blocking the doorway I’d been about to charge through.
“Hey, bro,” he greeted whoever was on the other side.
The sound of a semi-automatic weapon firing was instantaneous as bullets blasted my would-be savior werelock’s chest and strays nicked the doorframe. I ducked and backed up so fast I nearly fell backward down the stairwell again. After what seemed like forever and a gratuitous number of bullets, I heard the inevitable empty clicking sound, signaling that the attacker was out of ammo.
Surfer boy didn’t miss a beat. “Got any jumper cables I can borrow?”
I heard the sound of metal clanking to the concrete, followed by rapid, retreating footfalls.
“Aw, seriously? Why would you run? I just asked for cables,” the indestructible werelock taunted from the doorway. Then he turned and threw over his shoulder at me, “Don’t get any ideas. You and I need to talk.”
Awesome. He was warning me not to run. Of course, I’d figured all along I was the prey that he was ultimately after when he’d first shown up and interfered in the alley fight. But his warning caused my heart rate to skyrocket nonetheless.
How did one run from a person capable of disappearing and reappearing themselves in places?
“Come on, man, let’s see what you got for me,” he called out to the fleeing werewolf.
Swallowing my inner panic, I stood and followed him at a cautious distance as he strode into the parking level, past an abandoned van and the discarded M16, until we were standing near the center of the dimly lit lot.
