I cocked my head at the pale spot, but he kept it covered. “What is that?” I’d noticed it the first time we met, but I had yet to ask what it meant. “Can I see?”
His fingers peeled aside, and I got my first clear look at the full design of his tattoo.
A tiny figure in white ink stood in the pitch black forest with her head tilted back and hair spilling down her back. She stared up at the sky, where the moon ought to be.
“I had it done days before she went missing,” he said softly. “It was her idea. She never did like how dark and lonely the woods looked on my arms, so I promised to ink some life into them, starting with her.”
Throat tightening in sympathy—how could he stand living where his sister had been murdered when I couldn’t stomach the sight of water not inside a bottle?—I nudged the topic away from his loss and back to warg business. “Is it normal for betas to evolve?”
“Yes.” The change in topic relaxed him and chased the pallor from his cheeks. “It makes for a difficult transition, because it means more clashes with the alpha as those same primal urges to protect and lead emerge.”
I scoffed. “From where I’m sitting I don’t see Bessemer doing much of either.”
“The alpha tendencies manifest in us all differently, and he’s a power among our kin.” A breeze ruffled his hair. “He wants the best for his people, I still believe that, but he doesn’t see that strangling their free will makes them weaker, not stronger.”
“Hmm.” I cut my eyes toward him. “You don’t say.”
Delicious irony would have made me laugh if not for the circumstances of our rendezvous.
His lips flattened in a mulish line. “Everything I do, I do to protect the pack.”
I drew my knees to my chest and rested my chin on top of them. “Wouldn’t Bessemer say the same if I asked him?”
He twisted so he faced me head-on. “You just accused him of being a tyrant, and now you’re comparing us?”
“Yes.”
“I want to be insulted that you think I’m a dictator in the making, but I doubt you would have made that climb for Bessemer.” His eyes narrowed. “Yet you made it for me.”
“I know what it’s like to blame yourself for the choices you’ve made, to doubt they were the right ones even when you felt there were no other options at the time.” I hugged my legs closer. “I didn’t want you to be alone.” I bit my lip to keep from adding, Like I was.
That tiny crack in my armor allowed the fingers of the past to dig into my memory and pry it wide open.
“You’re too slow.” Trilling laughter. “Hurry up.”
“My foot hurts.” I limped as sand clotted the wound and salt stung my eyes. “I want to go home.”
“Don’t be a baby.” Lori twirled under the moonlight. “I’m going in the water. Yell if you see Mom or Dad coming.”
“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest, shifting foot to foot, wishing she would get her toes wet already so we could get back before our parents noticed us missing. “Let’s just go back. Before something bad happens.”
“Ellis.”
I snapped to attention. “Sorry.”
The weight of his arm blanketed my shoulders. I wasn’t sure when he had gotten so close, but I didn’t pull away when he tucked me against his side, or when he urged my head onto his shoulder so he could rest his cheek on my hair. I sat there, stunned, and allowed him to hold me.
Aunt Dot tried to comfort me when the past rode me hard, but I pushed her away, not feeling I deserved for her to make everything okay when Lori would never be held or touched by a loved one again. Isaac got in a hug here or a squeeze there, short and fast enough I didn’t have time to register what he was doing until he was gone.
I’m not sure why, but for the first time since the night I lost my sister and cried myself to sleep on my mother’s lap, I entrusted another person with a portion of my sorrow. This man who mourned his own loss, so sharp and fresh, he was unable to endure it without the pack’s support. That gaping hole in him should have made him weak, should have made me handle him with more care, but our negative spaces called to one another.
Both of us had made decisions we regretted, both of us had taken actions we couldn’t undo, and both of us would live with those burdens. Ours was an isolated punishment, self-inflicted as all the deepest wounds were, but in this moment, trapped against the warmth of his body and breathing the scent of his skin, relishing the strength in his hands and marveling at the contented sigh he released, I wondered if perhaps the way to lessen guilt and grief was to share them.
Gods knew nothing else I had tried worked.
Forcing my muscles to loosen until I was cozied up to Graeson and he trusted me to stay put enough to link his arms around me, I tipped back my head and found his hazel eyes inches from mine, the pupils dilated and the striking emerald striations in his irises made more vivid by the greenery surrounding us.
“Tell me about your sister.”
Tension ricocheted through him, tightening his jaw where it rested against me. Feeling awkward, I started to pull away, but he held on to me as though I was the one thing anchoring him against the swell of his heartache.
“Mom died in childbirth, and Dad never recovered. He was broken. Too broken to run a pack. That’s when Bessemer made his bid for alpha. He bled my dad and took over.” Old bitterness without much bite laced his words. “A few weeks later, Dad picked a fight with a warg a few rungs up the new dominance ladder and lost. I was seventeen. Marie was three. The pack let me hold on to the house, helped me find work so I could support my sister. A chain of mothers organized sitters for the days I was in school and the nights I was at work.” He sat there for a while, so long I thought he was finished. “Her favorite color was vermillion, because she said it was a million times better than the plain old green I liked.”
Heart a wounded thing in my chest, I did for him what I hadn’t allowed others to do for me.
I sat.
I listened.
And I held him as he told me the story of how his world ended.
Chapter 7
“We’ve got company” were the first words past Dell’s lips when my feet hit the sweet, sweet ground. Graeson leapt from the makeshift ladder and landed in a crouch behind me. He rose and dusted his palms before placing one at the small of my back and pushing me in the general direction of the trailers.
“Why the rush?” a woman possessing a rich Southern accent called. “I only wanted to say hello.”
“Keep walking,” Graeson ordered under his breath.
“She’s following.” Dell grimaced. “You’re going to have to talk to her eventually.”
“Cord.” Petulance sat heavy in the new voice. Clearly she was one of those women used to pouting and getting her way. “You know my legs aren’t that long. Slow down. We haven’t talked since you got home. I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me.”
Graeson, who kept to my back, remained unreadable. Dell I saw clearly out of the corner of my eye, and her wrinkled nose told me what she thought of the woman dogging our heels.
A muttered curse brought his warm breath across my nape in the same instant as a hand closed over my arm. A petite woman with wide eyes and curves for days smiled up at me through straight white teeth as her magic prickled my skin.
“You must be Ellen.” She beamed. “I’m Imogen.” A bashful shrug as authentic as her white-blonde curls bounced her thin shoulders. “Cord and I dated in high school. You know how that goes. I like to keep tabs on him is all, make sure he’s being treated right.”
The jealous ex-girlfriend experience was one I had never had, and I wasn’t thrilled to be having it now. I didn’t bother correcting her about my name. She knew it. I could tell. That hard glint in her eyes some might mistake for a personable sparkle masked lethal intelligence. I bet she knew more about me than most of my coworkers ever bothered learning.
“Nice to meet you.” I stared at the point where her hand touched m
e, and she blushed as she released my elbow. “You two were childhood friends? How sweet that you’ve kept up for so long.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she filtered the words, searching for insult. “Well, you know how first loves are.” She gazed up at him with caked-on adoration. “You never quite get them out of your system.”
No, actually, I didn’t. I had never let a man get that close to me. I pasted on a smile and let her read agreement in it.
“It’s early and all, cart before the horse and such,” she continued, “but I wanted to meet you before the selection begins and tell you it’s nothing personal. Cord is a beta, and you don’t understand what that means, but it’s a big deal to us wargs. He needs a strong mate by his side if he’s going to hold his position, and you’re just not it.” She glanced over my shoulder at Graeson. “You know the rules. I’ll have to participate. I don’t have a choice.”
Had glee not suffused her being, I might have believed her based on the slight rounding of her doe eyes. As it was, the widening of those dark, liquid pools reminded me of a black hole seeking to consume all which thrived around it.
Admitting my ignorance as to what the selection was or why it mattered one way or another if Imogen participated would only have earned me a pitying glance. I avoided the play in favor of asking Dell about it later, figuring the truth would be easier to pin down with her than Graeson.
A shrill ring sent my hand diving into my pocket, eager for an excuse to extricate myself from this awkwardness. “Ellis.”
“Long story short, a drunk elf picked a fight with a dwarf in a holding cell at the marshal’s office.” Thierry’s yawn made my jaw twitch in sympathy. “I drew the short end of the straw, so I’m awake—sort of—earlier than expected. Can you talk?”
“Hold on a minute.” I muted the call. “I have to take this call. It’s for work.”
“What do you do?” Imogen pretended interest. “The suit you wore when you arrived on the property screamed secretary.” She batted her lashes at Graeson. “Not that there’s anything wrong with wanting to service a man in a powerful position.”
I bit the inside of my lip. Service a man? Really? Why didn’t she strip naked and start humping his leg? It would have been subtler.
No harm in telling her since the news would make the rounds fast enough. Bessemer knew thanks to his fishing expedition inside Graeson’s skull, and if he knew, then Aisha must know too. I wasn’t sure what degree of access the rest of the pack had to his thoughts and memories, but I was willing to bet Aisha would love nothing more than to share a cup of coffee and gossip with Imogen.
“I’m an agent with the Earthen Conclave.” The absent weight of my badge reminded me this side trip to Villanow wasn’t sanctioned. “It was nice meeting you, Imogen. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“The Earthen Conclave.” She paled a fraction before smothering the momentary glimpse of panic with a smile as she looped her arm through Graeson’s. “That’s quite progressive of you.” She gave him a squeeze. “Why don’t you run along home and handle your business? I can take care of Graeson for you.”
I just bet she could.
Spending the morning on the shade-dappled platform with Graeson had talked me out. I flicked my fingers in a wave at him, not trying to spare him from the cruel fate of small-talking his way out of Imogen’s clutches.
I set out for home, and Dell trailed at a respectful distance. I liked her, enjoyed her company, but I wondered why, if she was truly a submissive warg, Graeson had seemingly assigned her to my guard detail. It was more than consideration for companionship. I was fast learning he didn’t have those tender leanings. His thought processes were ruthlessly efficient. Dell was with me because he trusted her, because she was capable, and as evidenced by Aisha and Imogen’s total dismissal of her, because no one except Graeson appeared aware of the ferocity hidden behind her stooped shoulders and bowed head.
Shaking off those thoughts, I focused on what I hoped was the first good news I’d heard all week.
“All right,” I spoke into the phone. “What have you got for me?”
Three hours later, I was wearing a track in the floor of my living room while clutching a rolled-up printout of a mental health facility in my fist. The call from Thierry confirmed that, as far as she knew, Charybdis hadn’t resurfaced. No new drownings fitting his MO had been reported, no new kills that might hint at sinister intent had been discovered. The loss of his avatar seemed to have slowed him down. I held tight to the thin hope that loss didn’t mean Harlow had gotten promoted to fill the spot.
The downside to no new crimes was no new direction either. Time kept ticking, and I had no clue where to look.
“Well?” Dell poked her head inside the trailer. “Did your friend have good news?”
“Yes. Well, maybe.” I hadn’t decided yet. “How is Meemaw?”
Dell had dropped me off then zipped home after a ripple in the pack bond set her on edge.
“Meemaw is fine. She took a spill while she was gardening and sprained her ankle. It was already healed by the time I got there.” She put a hand to her chest. “She’ll probably outlive me, but you know how it goes.”
I was more prone to fearing life than death but could appreciate the sentiment.
“Have you seen Graeson?” Hours had passed since I’d abandoned him to the clutches of his ex, and I hadn’t seen or heard from him. “I expected him to stop by with questions.” Eager for fresh leads, he would be curious about anything newsworthy I unearthed. “Dell?”
“He went home with Imogen.” She kept seesawing her front teeth over her bottom lip. “I saw him go inside her cabin on my way to Meemaw’s.”
“Oh.” A brittle thing fractured in my chest, and my voice came out broken. “I see.”
“They were probably talking,” she told her toes, unable to meet my eyes.
“You’re hardwired together,” I pointed out. “You know what he’s doing.” Which probably explained the guilt seeping from her pores. “It’s okay, Dell, really.”
But that crackle over my heart kept spreading as the ridiculous impulse to grab her hand, take her blood and see for myself how he was spending his afternoon shivered through me. Graeson wasn’t my mate or my boyfriend. Not really. To willfully believe in a lie is to welcome hurt. We were…friends. People who had bonded over shared pain. I liked him as often as I wanted to choke him. The ability to resist murdering one’s partner wasn’t a solid basis for a relationship. Even when I didn’t want to kill him, he frustrated me with his constant scheming and truth-twisting.
“I can feel him.” Her bottom lip reddened to the point of bleeding. “Right now he’s—”
“I don’t want to know.” I whapped the roll of paper across my palm for emphasis. “Let’s just forget I asked, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed readily. “What’s with the map?”
I tapped her on the shoulder with it. “This is the most solid lead I’ve got.”
Cabin trysts forgotten, her eyes brightened. “That’s great.” She poked it with a finger. “What is it?”
“Blueprints for a mental institution in Kermit, Texas.” I elaborated as her eyes rounded. “One person was present when he—”
The tingle of magic suppressed what I had been about to say. I had made a blood oath to Thierry, and certain facts were off the table except where others who were already in on the secret were concerned.
“This person may have interacted with Charybdis prior to his killing spree,” I amended. “All attempts to question her failed because she fell off the grid that same day.”
“She got herself locked up.” Dell mulled over the implications. “Did she have a history of mental illness?”
“No. She was a highly decorated marshal who lived for her job.” I unrolled the printout for her inspection. “My source says her family is also free of mental illness, meaning there’s a possibility that whatever nudged her to commit herself two weeks later might be connected to
that chance meeting.”
“Has your source spoken to her yet?” Dell frowned as she studied the layout.
“No.” Thierry walked a fine line just by feeding me this much information. If I wanted that interview, I would have to conduct it myself. “Marshal Ayer isn’t accepting visitors. Her doctors forbid it. She’s practically living in isolation. They say the presence of others upsets her too much.”
Warm fingers curled over my forearm. “Tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”
“Crap.” I rolled the paper and dropped it on the table. “I keep forgetting that talking to you is the same as talking to Graeson.”
“Sorry.” Her shrug conveyed sheepishness and a hint of what I hazarded to label as relief. “It’s not like he can hear every conversation every pack member is having at any given time. He has to tune in to get the right channel, and there are seven of us so…”
“Seven?” That couldn’t be right. “That’s not the whole pack. There were that many wolves in Mississippi.”
“We’re separate from the rest until we release Graeson,” she explained. “It’s like we’re operating on another frequency, and all the others hear is static around us.”
“Hmm.” That explained how packs kept their business secret from other wargs. Different frequencies. “So Bessemer is the only one who can listen in?”
“Yes.” She shivered. “He’s the alpha.”
That tremor in her voice grew stronger with every mention of Bessemer and made my back teeth ache. A week ago—two weeks ago—I wasn’t this person. I did my job and went home. I waved to colleagues who didn’t know my name any more than I remembered theirs. I smiled and made small talk when forced, but I couldn’t tell you details of a single conversation once it ended. Part of that was my job. Earthen Conclave agents drifted from conclave outpost to outpost as needed. We usually ended up with a spot at the local marshal’s office, but we weren’t part of the team. We were outsiders looking in on the tight-knit units that called those outposts home. And part of it was my nature. Gemini tended to look homeward for companionship. And yet another part, the largest part, was the lack in me that I felt certain everyone saw. I know I did every time I met my gaze in a mirror.
Head Above Water (Gemini: A Black Dog #2) Page 7
