by Hettie Ivers
Surfer werelock did no more than crook his fingers, and the dark-haired werewolf sprinting for his life across the half-empty parking garage levitated in the air and floated back to us. The werewolf shrieked in panic, his arms and legs flailing wildly.
Fuck. Me. How was I supposed to fight this guy?
“I don’t know anything!” the terrified werewolf shouted when he was a scant few feet away from the werelock who was somehow holding him levitated and immobilized at whim.
I cringed internally. I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pity for the werewolf—even knowing he probably would’ve blasted me to pieces with that semi if given the chance. At the same time, my self-preservation instincts kicked into high gear. I scanned the sparsely filled lot and spotted the black Audi A4 parked about forty feet to my right, in the opposite direction from where the werewolf had run.
“Perfect,” the cocky werelock responded with a laugh, “because I wasn’t planning to waste time interrogating you. I’ll just ransack your memories.”
“Wait, no—no, I do know things.”
Ransack memories?
The man fell to his knees—whether by force of magic or of his own volition, I couldn’t say—and proceeded to desperately babble and bargain. The surfer whipped the threadbare T-shirt he was wearing over his head and held it up for the pleading man to see how well the front had been riddled by bullets.
“You ruined my favorite T-shirt. I’ve had this one forever. And you weren’t planning on being very nice to my friend here, either.” As he said it, he stepped aside, allowing the kneeling werewolf an unobstructed view of me.
“No—no, I wasn’t going to hurt her. I was sent to capture her.”
“And bring her to Alessandra Reinoso,” the shirtless werelock concluded, turning around to me to ensure I’d heard that part of the plan.
I stared blankly back at him as his captive blathered on in confirmation. My eyes lowered to his shirtless chest. Surfer werelock was ripped. More importantly, he hadn’t sustained so much as a scratch on his chest despite his bullet-ridden T-shirt.
“Okay, we’re done talking now,” he announced, turning his attention back to the ill-fated werewolf on his knees. “I’m interested in seeing the things Alessandra didn’t allow you to remember.”
“No, no, please, not my mind—”
The werewolf’s pleas were cut short and his eyes rolled back in his head as the werelock’s own eyes closed in concentration.
This was some serious, creepy shit.
I inched a side step to my right, then another.
I had to make a run for it. Even if I didn’t get far, I had to try.
And I didn’t get far. Because a force of gravity knocked my ass to the petroleum-stained concrete two retreating steps later.
My lungs felt compressed and I struggled to take in air as I witnessed the scary-powerful werelock employ some sinister, invasive magic to seemingly pull information from the werewolf’s mind.
The surfer werelock’s face was a mask of concentration, until suddenly his mouth broke into a devilish grin, and he muttered, “Oh, hel-lo.”
I suspected he’d found whatever secrets he was looking for, because in the next moment, the werewolf made a terrible sound of agony and clutched his head with both hands before collapsing face first to the dirty concrete. Dead.
His silenced heartbeat made my own racing heart sound that much louder.
The gravity force that had been holding me down and constricting my lungs abated as the shirtless werelock turned to me with a smile, shaking his head and tsking. “I told you we needed to talk.”
Hellfire, things were dicey. He hadn’t even broken a sweat this whole time, and I was still panting on the ground, covered in blood and filth, my hipbone throbbing.
I jumped to my feet and took a step back. “Who are you?” When all else fails, keep the enemy talking.
“Told you, I’m a friend.”
I retreated another step. “Right. Where I come from a friend is someone you know, not a scary stranger you just ran into in a parking garage fight.”
“What?” He made a mock pouty face. “I get no brownie friend points for saving your life, Avery?”
“How do you know me?” I asked before my rattled brain had a chance to realize my mistake. “I mean … how do you think you know me?” I stupidly corrected, knowing from the smile growing on his face that he wasn’t buying any of it. “You have the wrong person. My name’s Cynthia, not Avery.”
“Well, Cynthia,” he played along, stalking closer and extending his hand out to me in offering, while I continued my awkward retreat, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Raul.”
I didn’t take his hand. It took the last shreds of my floundering dignity and the logic that it wouldn’t help me anyway to stop myself from continuing to back away.
“How’d you do that? How’d you kill him? How’d you survive those bullets?” I pelted questions at him. “What do you want from me?”
Wow. I so needed that silencer. For my mouth.
“May I have your backpack, please?”
“Huh?”
“Your backpack, Avery.”
“You want to rob me?”
He laughed. There was a warmth and sincerity inherent to the sound that I’d not expected as it echoed through the parking structure. “Nah, silly,” he teased as if we truly were old chums. “I want to program my contact information into your phone in case you need to reach me.”
“For serious?” I squawked. “You did all that because you wanted to give me your number?”
“Will you hand me your phone already? Please?”
With fumbling fingers, I rummaged through my backpack and managed to locate my new phone for him. Then I stood staring like a mouth-breather in headlights as he thumbed in his information.
“There. I’ve programmed myself under both ‘Scary Stranger’ and ‘Friend’ so however you choose to remember me, you’ll have my digits.”
I accepted the phone back with a bewildered, “Right.”
“If you need me, I’ll be a phone call away. Anytime. Anywhere. Understand?”
I knew I should just shut up and be thankful he hadn’t killed me with that silent mind death trick yet, but my willful tongue often had designs of its own.
“How’d you move without moving before?”
He opened his mouth to reply, then paused before answering, “Let’s just say I’m a student of Darwinism.”
Clearly. “Caught that much. Why’d you help me?”
“Because some would say I’m also an active proponent and purveyor of Darwinism.”
I shook my head. “A true proponent of Darwinism would have left me to fend for myself. Natural selection and all that.” Why was I arguing this point?
“Look, Avery …” He exhaled, and a deep, disconsolate chasm creased his brow, making him suddenly seem far older than his otherwise youthful appearance. And making me curious to know the hidden pain that had etched its way into this man’s soul.
“I know who you are and what you’re hiding. I understand better than you do the odds you’re up against, because I know the rogue hunter who’s coming for you. The one your friend Wyatt told you about. Milena Caro-Reinoso.” His features contorted as he forced out the last three syllables of the Alpha female’s hyphenated surname, saying “Reinoso” like it was a disease. “You need to understand, Sloane is in grave danger.”
My pulse sprinted at the mention of first Wyatt’s and then my daughter’s name—at the realization that this powerful stranger knew far, far more about us than he should. I knew he heard it, but I schooled my features nonetheless.
Muttering a dismissive, “Thanks for the tip,” I turned my back on him and headed for the rental car. Whatever his game was, he didn’t want me dead. Least not yet. Or I would’ve been dead already.
“I’m the only one who can stop her,” he called out from behind me. And then he was standing smack-dab in front of me, blocking my path.
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“Jesus!”
“Milena’s not like the other rogue hunters you’ve taken out,” he proceeded calmly while I stood clutching my backpack to my racing chest. “You won’t win this fight. Not alone.”
I couldn’t suppress the growl that escaped me at his rude assertion. “Are you finished?”
“Don’t let your pride dictate your daughter’s fate.”
“Pride?” Oh, that got my canines out. Claws as well. “My pride has nothing to do with this. This is about me protecting my child from hunters and supernatural opportunists alike. I will die before I tell you where she is, so either kill me or get the hell out of my way, pretty boy.”
He stepped aside, making a sweeping, gentlemanly gesture with his arm for me to pass.
I did. Maneuvering around him as quickly as possible.
“You’re still limping from a fall you took a full ten minutes ago,” he pointed out, raking my last nerve as I fished through my backpack, willing the car keys to materialize. “I took at least eighteen bullets to the heart five minutes ago, and I’m standing here without a scratch.”
“You want a fucking ribbon?” I threw back over my shoulder. Ass.
He laughed. “I want you to understand that we’re on the same side.”
I kept walking. Where the fuck were those keys?
I heard a throat clear behind me, along with the sound of keys jingling. I stopped. My eyes shifted, and I had to take a calming breath before turning to face him.
He was grinning from ear to ear as he tossed me the car keys. He looked more like a harmless, prankster frat boy than the dangerous supernatural killer that I knew him to be.
“Sorry, swiped ’em for fun. Figured a woman with your juvenile rap sheet would’ve caught on sooner.”
Nice segue. He’d read my criminal file. Those were sealed records. Wyatt’s father had seen to it. But I supposed nothing was off-limits to a guy who read minds. Which made me wonder …
“You read that wolf’s mind back there?”
He nodded.
“Have you read mine?”
“No.”
“Would I know it if you had?”
He hesitated before answering, “Most humans and werewolves don’t remember. I’m careful to cover my tracks and erase the memory of my invasion.”
Or simply kill them. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Because I don’t know the answer, Avery. I can’t access your mind like I can other werewolves. If I could, I wouldn’t be standing here, because I’d already know where Sloane is.”
My stomach flipped. He was telling the truth. I could smell it. It made the reality of his words scarier, and yet reassuring. “What makes me different?”
His brows shot up, and he laughed like it was an absurd question. “What makes you different?” He shook his head. “Oh, I dunno … everything? You gave birth to the Rogue of rogues.” His gaze was assessing. “I don’t believe fate picked you by accident, either.”
A chill swept over me. It was the adrenaline rush letdown. And the fact that he for sure knew as much as I’d feared.
He took a step closer and stage-whispered, “Don’t think it’s escaped my attention that you have no scent. I’m assuming it’s the same for Sloane?”
I didn’t respond. But my heart rate answered for me despite my intentions. I needed to get home to my daughter. Without him following me.
“So how’s this gonna work?” I cut to the chase. “You’ll pretend to let me go so you can follow me?”
A slow, easy smile spread across his face. “I think I like you, Avery.”
“Enough that you won’t melt my brain and leave my body in a parking garage?”
He chuckled. “Odds are definitely in your favor on that.”
“Yay me,” I deadpanned. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and crossed my arms over my chest. “Again … how’s this gonna work?”
“I am going to let you go. And I won’t follow you … if you agree to one condition.”
“Ah, this should be good.”
“Pick any other car in this parking lot and let me start it for you. I’m not okay with you taking one that Wyatt secured.”
“Seriously? You think I can’t hotwire a car on my own? I’m offended.”
“How many times have you been attacked in the past six hours? Think about it. Your attackers were one step ahead of you every single time. How often has that happened before today? What’s the common thread?”
I raised my pointer finger at him. “No dice, mind-bender.”
“Wyatt. You know that it’s Wyatt.”
I rolled my eyes and turned on my heel, heading for the Audi.
“Look, I’m not claiming Wyatt has or would betray you on purpose. But his mind has been compromised by a powerful enemy werelock: Alessandra Reinoso. He no longer has a choice in the matter.”
I kept walking, even though I scented no lie in his words, clicking the unlock button on my car key. Raul materialized in front of my ride as I approached it, leaning against the driver-side door.
“Trust me, I know her well.” His smile was bitter. “Know firsthand what it’s like to be seduced and manipulated by her without the added use of mind control that she’s employed with Wyatt. Lessa is a conceited, power-hungry, opportunistic bitch, Avery. She’ll stop at nothing to get what she wants. And right now your daughter is the trophy she’s set her sights on.”
Fuck. Lessa. The chill in my veins turned to ice as the pieces clicked into place.
Alessandra Reinoso, Alex’s sister—the werelock Wyatt had mysteriously forgotten about—and Lessa, the needy new fling Wyatt was so smitten with, were one and the same bitch.
Alcaeus
It’d been years since Kai and I had scuffled—I mean really tussled. We sparred all the time for sport, but we hadn’t truly fought since we were kids.
I went down fast in human form, then shifted to my wolf form just as Kai’s maw tried to clamp onto my shoulder. When his footing faltered slightly with the shift, I reared up and threw him.
There was a crashing sound as Kai’s canine form flew into the TV console. It should’ve stopped me, knowing that I was destroying Lupe’s most treasured things—her sacred space within the home we’d shared for fifty years. But somehow that realization egged me on, heightening my anger and fueling my need for vengeance.
It was the same vengeance that taunted me daily. Hourly. One I could never quench. Never deliver to the proper source.
I chased a retribution that I would never be able to exact from that undead supernatural cunt of the century who had deliberately, callously targeted and ensnared my Lupe within her warped scheme to skirt the laws of the cosmos.
The fact that Maribel had sacrificed Lupe to save my best friend, and that she’d also arguably “saved” Milena and the rest of us from the flawed Salvatella blood curse in the process, didn’t make her a saint in my book. Nor did it make accepting her actions any easier.
It made her a sick fucking bitch as far as I was concerned.
Because how was I supposed to reconcile the loss of Lupe against the deliverance of Kai? I could never value Lupe’s life above Kai’s. Neither could I hold Kai’s life above Lupe’s.
And it was no accident that Maribel had set it up that way.
No, the scenario was just the sort of fucked-up shit that the Maribel I knew and remembered—in all her demented “genius”—would’ve quietly, proudly contrived. While professing to have no other choice in the matter, of course.
Before I knew it, we’d torn Lupe’s old sofa to shreds. The more we destroyed, the more enraged I became. Rationally, I knew it wasn’t Kai’s fault what Maribel had done in the name of her twisted love for him.
But it was his fault for being too stupid to seize the second chance at life that he’d been given as a result.
We’d destroyed the entire sitting room and crashed through the floor to the living room below before I registered my sister Alessandra’s shrill voice yelling
at us to stop. And I only ultimately heard her because her words were accompanied by a blast of magic that pulled Kai’s wolf body and my own apart, as Lessa sent Kai’s body flying through the front bay window of the house.
Lessa rattled off the plans she’d set in motion for tomorrow as she cleaned up the last of the drywall dust and debris that had settled on Kaleb’s altar photos when Kai and I had fallen through the ceiling. The other areas of the room that had been impacted were still a mess, as was the upstairs sitting room.
Kai had yet to return to the house since being thrown from it. It was for the best. He and Lessa hadn’t gotten along very well in the past century.
I felt numb inside as I sat on the couch watching my sister tidy up Jussara’s creepy Kaleb alter when she hadn’t seen cause to clean or straighten up anything else in the living room. I guess I’d known that Kaleb had been one of Lessa’s favorite soldiers—and sometime lover. If I hadn’t realized it before, it was apparent from the way that she was fussing over his photos and relighting his altar candles, just how dear a friend he’d been to her.
Yet Lessa had somehow been able to overlook her friend Maribel’s role in Kaleb’s murder. In fact, she’d more or less led the brigade to canonize Maribel for her brilliance and heroism in defeating Nuriel Salvatella and fixing Milena’s flawed blood curse ten years ago.
I dropped my head in my hands. I’d destroyed Lupe’s sanctuary. There was no salvaging what was left of it. Pack members were on their way to help repair the other damage I’d done to Jussara’s home. But I didn’t know what I was going to tell Jussara about her mom’s beloved sitting room when she got back from Alsace.
“Are you listening?” Lessa asked, snapping her fingers above my bent head to get my attention.
I fucking hated it when she did that. I raised my chin and gave her a hard look in response.
“I need your head in the game, Al.” She planted her hands on her hips. She was wearing another prim blouse and skirt outfit. And her hair was in a weird twist on top of her head.
“I’m listening, damnit.”
Her back straightened. “What did I just say then?” she challenged.
