by L. C. Davis
"Absolutely."
He sighed. "I had hoped our little encounter might have given you some clarity."
I frowned. "Is that why you went along with it? To test me?"
"It wasn't planned, but I figured it couldn't hurt."
"Well, it did. If anything, making love to both of you just cemented the fact that I can't live without either of you," I said, my voice cracking. "You're not the only one who regrets it."
He blinked at me. For once, I seemed to have caught him off guard and it was impossible to miss the twinge of hurt in his voice as he asked, "You regret it?"
"Of course I do. It was one thing when I didn't know what it could feel like to be whole, but now no matter what happens I know that was the best it's ever going to get," I said, clutching my shirt over my heart, which had been aching ever since that night. Maybe it always had ached and now I was just aware of it in contrast to that brief moment of relief. "Now I finally know what my heart has wanted this entire time, and it's so much harder to accept that I can't have it. Putting someone through hell is nothing compared to giving them a glimpse of heaven only to send them back to earth, knowing they'll never experience it again."
Victor rose from his chair only to kneel in front of me, taking my face in his hand. "Remus, if this plan does work and I somehow manage to survive, I want you to know that I'll still be here. For both of you. I meant what I said about Sebastian. You're getting the better man, but you're not going to lose me."
There was part of me that believed him. By purely objective standards, he was right. Sebastian was the better man on paper and in practicality, but I didn't want better. I wanted both. I needed both of them to be okay, to have each other even if it meant having neither of them for myself.
"I want you to promise me something, Victor."
"Anything," he said, his eyes flickering over me in curiosity.
"If something does go wrong and something happens to me--I know it won't," I said, anticipating his interruption. "But just humor me and promise me that if something did happen to me, you and Sebastian would stay together. Promise me you'll stay close, that you won't let me be the thing that drives you apart forever."
"Nothing is going to happen," he insisted. "But yes, if anything were to happen to you, Sebastian and I would stay together. I can promise you that, at least on my end."
"That's all I needed to hear," I said, leaning in to kiss him. His surprise lasted only a moment before he returned the kiss earnestly.
"So," I said, pulling away breathless. "When is the funeral?"
"Tonight, if all goes according to plan."
"That's a bit soon, isn't it?"
"Arthur wants it to be as soon as possible. Can't say I blame him."
"Do you think the Patriarch will try to stop it?"
"Possibly, which is why that portion of the ritual will be performed inside of a protected circle," he said. "Hunter has it all planned out."
"You've seen him since the accident?" I asked quietly.
"Seen him? No, but Clarence has been acting as a go-between. The plan is that we kill Arthur inside the Lodge where the hunters can't physically reach him to interfere, and his death will take place inside the circle so he can't be possessed. Then, we take his body out back and bury him. If all goes well, Clara's garden will have sprouted a fresh hunter by morning."
I shivered. "And if he's more hunter than Arthur when he wakes up?"
"Then Ulric, Sebastian and I will follow his instructions on how to destroy him," he said matter-of-factly. "The rest of you will be safe inside the Lodge where he can't reach you."
"And what happens if he takes you three out?"
"In that case, Clarence would be the one in charge so I guess you'll just have to marry him," he mused.
"Very funny," I muttered. "I bet Hunter would love that."
"I'm sure Clarence has more than enough love for the both of you," he teased.
"I'm glad you're so lighthearted about all of this."
"Hardly," he snorted. "But the pack needs a cool head at the helm and Sebastian is freaking out enough for the both of us."
"Why? He's usually the calm one."
Victor hesitated a moment before giving me an apologetic smile. "No offense, but he just really hates dead things."
Chapter 23
ARTHUR
As I stood over my own grave, I contemplated uttering a witty line like, "How many people get to say they went to their own funeral?" but I just wasn't in the mood. Besides, everyone in my family had been in attendance at their own funerals. Even if we were technically dead, our souls remained tethered to our bodies in some form or another while they sat in the ground and waited for the Patriarch to work his magic.
"It's about time we headed inside, son," Ulric said, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder. I nodded and let him lead me into the Lodge. By the time we got to the lobby, the hunter's sigil was already in place, surrounded by a ring of candles. During my stay at the Lodge, I had come to realize that wolves really liked candles.
Everyone was wearing dark blue robes with the hoods pulled up, so it was hard to tell who was who. They looked enough like the hunters' ritual robes to send a shiver down my spine. At least it was easy to tell which cloaked figure was Sebastian from size alone. The next biggest one was Brendan. The littlest ones were Remus and Clara, and it was easy enough to tell them apart by the familiar shock of red hair sticking out from the slightly shorter one's hood. Ulric pulled his hood over his head as he came to stand beside me.
"You're sure you're ready to go through with this?" he asked.
I nodded. My throat was too tight to breathe, never mind talk.
He gave my back an approving pat. "Your grandfather would be proud."
I swallowed the emotion welling up in my throat. "Thank you, Sir."
He gave me the gentle push I needed to step forward. At least if these were my final moments on earth, they would be mine with no chance of having them commandeered by Prentice or the Patriarch.
Heh. That sounded like a pretty good title for some Norwegian metal band's next album. Prentice and the Patriarch. If I did survive as myself, maybe I'd take up the guitar. Supposedly hunters were quick studies with that sort of thing. I had always been good at the piano.
"Step into the circle, please," said a robed figure. His voice was monotonous and husky, like he'd just been through a great ordeal.
It occurred to me that if this was the infamous Hunter, he had been through worse than I could imagine. I had yet to meet him face to face, but I knew that the newly initiated priest was one of a handful of survivors of Prentice's raid. There couldn't be a shortage of wolves in the room who hated my guts, but none of them had quite as much reason to as he did.
I obeyed his instruction and stepped past the candles to stand in the middle of the white chalk circle. It seemed appropriately blasphemous to be standing in the midst of the hunter's sigil while planning to kill my own kind. My own family.
Hunter drew a gleaming silver revolver from the pocket of his robe. It was the same one Remus had been carrying when he burst into the hotel room for an ambitious yet poorly planned rescue attempt. The priest's head tilted up just enough that I caught a glimpse of his face in the candlelight. His youthful features were marred by some sort of sigil carved into his face from top to bottom. It looked like a twisted version of the five-pointed star. I was pretty sure I had seen it before in William Winters' journal, but I couldn't be sure.
Whatever it was, if the moon had intended her mark to be shocking, she had succeeded. I averted my eyes guiltily. For a moment, I thought Hunter was going to shoot me himself, but he passed the weapon into the waiting hand of the cloaked figure I recognized as Remus.
"You've asked to be executed by the hybrid," Hunter continued. "Do you stand by that decision, Arthur?"
"Yes," I said calmly. I hated putting Remus through this. After all, this was the same kid who, despite his torrid love affair with chicken nuggets and physical
dependence on human blood, was an on-and-off vegetarian because animal rights documentaries made him sad. Unfortunately for him, I was a selfish bastard and he was the only one I trusted enough to go through with this. Back at the hotel when I had been sure he was going to shoot me, as scared as I had been, part of me had been strangely okay with it. Much to my chagrin, some part of me still chafed at the idea of being taken out by a wolf, but it was different with Remus for some reason.
I couldn't see his eyes underneath the hood, but his lips were quivering as he raised his arm until the gun was level with my forehead. I closed my eyes and waited for the flash, the reel of memories that never came. Guess there wasn't all that much to remember. Come to think of it, Prentice and my grandfather were the only sources of light in an otherwise bleak and pathetic existence and now they were both gone. Only a shadow of Prentice was left.
Once that realization settled in, the final wave of resistance faded. There was nothing left for me in this world. Nothing except for friends I had betrayed and the empty shell of the man I loved. My only hope now was that Grandpa Hugh and Prentice--my Prentice, not the macabre echo piloting his corpse--would be waiting for me on the other side. Hopefully I could atone for my sins by taking out as many of my own kind as I could in the process.
Knowing what I knew now, killing Prentice would be an act of mercy. My final act.
Remus hesitated and I opened my eyes. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and his hand trembled. I would be lucky if he managed to hit me at all, never mind in a spot that would lead to instant death. Suddenly I knew that I couldn't do this to him and stepped forward, holding out my hand.
"It's okay," I said in what I hoped was a reassuring tone. "You don't have to do this. I never should have asked you to in the first place. Just give me the gun and I'll do it myself."
He lowered it slightly and let out a strangled sob. "Arthur, I --"
"It's fine," I said, reaching out of the circle to clasp his hand in mine. "Really. I'm not scared anymore, Remus. I've tried to end my life for far less reason. I can get it right this time for a cause."
He let me take the gun from his hand and the tears stopped immediately. For a moment, I was worried he was going to pass out but he showed no signs of falling. He kept his head down and his hood shielded his eyes, but I could tell something was wrong. Remus wasn't himself.
"You don't have to go through with this, Arthur," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "There are other ways to get closure."
I stepped back suddenly, feeling like I had just been shocked. Had Remus just been trying to get inside my mind? The unmistakable sensation of a psychic push lingered in the doorway of my thoughts, but nothing seemed to come of it. I looked around at the others to determine whether he'd really said the words out loud. None of them seemed to notice anything was amiss, so I shrugged it off as a combination of hybrid strangeness and nerves and stepped back into the circle.
My heart was racing even though it had been slow and steady a moment ago. I stood in the center of the sigil and raised the gun to my temple, facing away from Remus. The wolves were all gathered in a circle around me, but I didn't want Remus to see me in that moment when the light left my eyes. Why I had ever thought he could handle being the one to pull the trigger was beyond me.
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. Even though I didn't feel nervous, my pulse had other ideas. As I unlocked the safety, I struggled to hold onto a salient last thought, to anything that could keep me focused, but my mind was blank.
"It's alright," said a voice I recognized as Ulric's. It was kind and gentle. Patient. It filled me with certainty about what I had to do and even if I had been nervous earlier, it was impossible to feel anything other than calm resolve now. "You don't have to do this if you aren't ready, Arthur."
I opened my eyes and turned to face the old man. His head was raised and he was the only one I could recognize in a sea of cloaks. I smiled at him and raised the gun again. "I'm ready," I told him with certainty. "It's my time and I finally have the closure I needed."
His eyes widened almost imperceptibly in the instant before I pulled the trigger. It was like my arm and hand were being manipulated by invisible strings. A red spot appeared on Ulric's forehead and the life had already left his eyes before I realized what had happened. The gun wasn't at my temple anymore. It was pointed right at him and it had hit its mark.
"No," I choked out. The gun fell to the floor with a clatter. I staggered forward only to be pushed back by the other figures surrounding Ulric in a futile effort to help.
It was no use. The old man was gone and I was the one who had pulled the trigger.
"What have you done?" cried Remus, pushing past me.
I kept stumbling back in horror as I watched the others gather around their fallen Alpha. "I don't know," I said, my hands trembling from the earthquake building deep within my chest.
When I backed into a figure and felt the caress of velvet against my skin, I spun around to see the lone figure that hadn't joined the rest. It was Clara. The upper half of her face was shrouded in shadow as she stepped forward. Her rose-colored lips curled into a smile that was menacing in its familiarity.
The she-wolf lifted her head and her eyes glowed gold. "Hello, sweet boy. Miss me?"
"You," I gritted out, tears welling in my eyes. "You made me do this."
"I told you, Arthur," Clara said in Prentice's eerily pleasant tone. "I alone have the privilege of laying you to rest."
"I hate you," I whispered, my fists clenched at my sides. "I hate you and I'm going to kill you."
He slipped a gun from the pocket of Clara's robe and leveled it at my forehead. "Sweet dreams, Arthur. I'll be here when you wake."
He pulled the trigger and the sound of the shot was the last thing I would ever hear.
Chapter 24
REMUS
Moments before the second shot rang out, I was still unable to accept the fact that Ulric was gone. The others were preoccupied with the commotion in the back of the room, but I could only think of the fallen Alpha. My father. The more time that passed, the more ashen his skin became. I cradled his head in my lap and stroked his hair with trembling hands. My head knew otherwise, but my heart was convinced that he would wake up any moment if I could just hold him close enough to keep the warmth from leaving him all the way.
"CPR," I said suddenly. Why hadn't I thought of it before? I grasped Victor's arm. He was the only one who had stayed by my side and he hadn't taken his eyes off of Ulric since he had collapsed. "You know how, don't you? Maybe there's time."
Victor's grey eyes were watery with unshed tears. A few spilled over as he shook his head with a resigned look. I had never seen Victor cry before, and anything that would move him to tears on Ulric's behalf was just too permanent and horrible to be real. His willingness to accept Ulric's fate infuriated me in my irrational state.
"We have to do something!" I cried, baring my fangs at him. "We can't just sit here and do nothing, it's Ulric!" My voice gave out and I buried my face in Ulric's shirt as I clutched him to my chest, as if there was anything left to protect him from. "He's our father, Victor."
Victor's hand was warm as it pressed into my back, a stark contrast to Ulric's coldness. "I know," he said in a thin, shaken voice. He stroked my hair and I could feel his grief through his touch.
I gave up any attempt at holding back the sobs that had been building ever since Arthur had put that damn gun in my hand. "He's not coming back?" The question seemed so childish, but the obvious answer was incomprehensible to me. "It just ends like this?"
"I don't --" Victor broke off and cleared his throat. Rather than try to speak again, he gently wrested Ulric from my grasp just enough so that he could sweep his hands over the Alpha's open eyes and close them. As much as the gesture cemented his loss, it was also a relief not to be staring into a gaze eternally frozen in sadness. Not fear, not even anger. Just sadness.
When I finally had the presence of mind to
turn around, I saw the others gathered around someone on the floor. Had Arthur killed someone else I loved? I had been so transfixed on Ulric that the second gunshot seemed like the distant memory of a sound heard in a dream. I shifted Ulric's lifeless body into Victor's arms and pushed past the figures that had gathered around another body on the floor. Arthur's body.
Aside from the red dot of blood in the center of his forehead, Arthur didn't look very much like a corpse at all. Not at all like Ulric, who had already turned a sickly shade of grey. Arthur's skin was full of warmth and color, as much if not moreso than when he was alive. He all but glowed.
As much as I wanted to feel satisfaction at the sight of him lying dead, I could only feel confusion and grief. Grief for Ulric, for myself, even for Arthur.
Once his death had settled itself into my mind, I looked around in search of the culprit. Everyone was looking at Clara. She stood with the gun still dangling from her hand and stared at the fallen boy with as much bewilderment as any of the rest of us.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice frail and cracking as Arthur's had been after the Patriarch's possession. Brendan lunged for the gun before it could slip from her trembling hand. "I didn't do that, did I? No, I couldn't have."
"If you didn't I would have," Brendan growled, unloading the gun. The silver bullets fell to the floor in a metallic shower and he took Clara into his arms. "He killed Ulric."
Everyone else was silent, but we were all thinking the same thing. Where had Clara even gotten a gun? This was innocent, delicate, Buddhist Clara who put spiders out the window and rued the day she would first shift and have to start eating meat. If it had been anyone else, given the circumstances, the act of vengeance would hardly have raised suspicion, but Clara?
"No," she choked out, crumpling to her knees before Brendan could catch her. "I didn't do this. I didn't kill him."
"You didn't," I said, finding my voice. She looked up at me, her wide eyes full of cautious hope. "It was the Patriarch. He got to me, too."
