“Dave. You almost killed me. They killed Mac. And Carlos,” Ian sounded bewildered, “What the hell were you thinking?”
“They wouldn’t have had to kill Mac if he’d been reasonable and agreed to help. His bone marrow was useful; Dr. D was so much closer to finding the answers. But Mac wouldn’t bring us other Weres. He didn’t understand. He wouldn’t listen. They tried so hard to make him understand the potential—Ken spent time with him, Dr. D, Jimmy—he wouldn’t listen to any of them. They had no choice; he made them kill him.” Dave talked fast and loud, as if he honestly thought he could convince us—convince Ian—he had made the right decisions, that any of this could be justified. “Carlos was on our trail; he’d tracked down Dr. D and nearly killed him in the park. We were lucky Ken was close by and he had time to intervene. Even though they didn’t have a chance to get a sample from Carlos.”
A sample. I opened my mouth, then closed it and shook my head futilely.
“But those people…” Eliza’s voice trailed off for a moment. “Dave, those things aren’t Weres. They are monsters.”
“Those were the first ones and the process almost worked. Dr. D refined it.” Dave’s earnestness was more painful than anger would have been. “They were only humans, anyway. There were bound to be mistakes.”
“Eliza,” Ian said, “Take him away. Please, get him out of here. I…”
Eliza drew back her foot, as if to kick Dave in the head, but then stopped. Her mouth tightened and she said, “Don’t try anything, Dave.”
“I won’t. When I explain it all to the council, they’ll understand. I know they will.”
None of us said anything more, as Eliza dragged Dave into the other room. There didn’t seem to be anything left to say.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nine Weres headed by a full moon named Chris Usher, who could have passed for a mafia goon himself, poured through the doors an hour later and took control.
“This is him?” Chris gestured to Dave with one meaty hand.
“Yes. Dave Blythe. He’s strong. He’ll need a full contingent of guards,” Tim said.
“No problem.” Chris dismissed the challenge and surveyed the rest of the prisoners. After his assessment, he looked at Sheila and me through narrowed eyes.
“I need a full report on these,” he said, jerking his chin in our direction. “Do we silence them now?”
Tim and Eliza stepped forward in unison. While several other Weres prowled around and managed the scene, Tim explained my relationship to Mac and Carson, my vested interest in keeping pack secrets, and the crucial role I played in cracking the case. He also credited me with saving his life, which I suppose was true. He made me sound a lot more heroic than I felt. Since Sheila was a Witch, he continued, she could be trusted to keep the evening’s events quiet as well. She wouldn’t want her own abilities revealed. Eliza allowed Tim to make the official report, though her silent support spoke volumes. After several minutes, Chris shrugged, ran a hand over his close-cropped hair, and declared the council could decide to silence us later, if they decided it necessary.
Lovely.
As Chris talked to Tim, the other Weres circled around taking charge of prisoners. At one point, Chris ordered four of them to the other scene, where presumably Kayleigh continued guarding Jimmy Bianco. Unless she’d slaughtered him. Minutes after those Weres left, Chris dismissed Sheila and me from the scene. He made it more than clear the two of us—as non-pack members—were no longer welcome. He also dismissed Ian, a minor who shouldn’t be further involved, and told the teen to drive Tim’s car back to the hotel. Chris was adamant all three of us return to the hotel, not leave without permission, and talk to no one.
Tim and Eliza were detained by the other Weres for further questioning and, possibly, to assist the clean-up effort. Since catching a few hours of sleep was just about the only thing on my mind, I didn’t balk at the orders. Thankfully, Sheila volunteered to drive, since I thought I might fall asleep on the road.
I snapped Carson into his car seat and slid into the front seat next to Sheila. As we coasted down the finally-nearly-deserted Strip and approached the hotel, I looked over at Sheila.
“So,” I said, “you and Tim?”
She shrugged one shoulder and smiled. “Yeah. I think so.”
“When the hell did that happen?”
“Right away, really. At least, the draw and the tension were there right away. I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on it. I mean, he’s so…” She trailed off and shrugged again.
“He’s so what?” And when she didn’t answer, I fumbled on. “I’m just really surprised. He’s so…ordinary.”
Sheila threw her head back and laughed; a full-throated laugh that caught me by surprise. I found myself giggling with her, but at the same time, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what she found so funny.
Wiping her eyes, she said, “Jules, if you think a Werewolf hit man is ordinary, your new perspective on life is totally warped.” And she erupted in laughter again.
“All right, all right,” I said, as we caught our breath, “But you know what I mean, don’t you? You walk down the street and have every eye on you. Tim’s so…he’s so…well, he’s almost negligible. You know. If you didn’t know he was a Werewolf hit man.”
Sheila shook her head. “I think his façade is very consciously cultivated.”
“Yeah, maybe.” After a minute, I asked, “So, is this a serious thing? Like a real relationship? Or is it a typical Sheila six-week affair?”
She shot me a dirty look. “We’ll see, I guess,” she said in an unusually quiet voice.
****
Even after I’d seen the Werewolves in action, I was surprised how efficiently our night’s work was obfuscated. Tim told us the malformed half-Were creatures had been granted mercy killings. As for Jimmy Bianco, Dr. Daniels, and the guards, Tim very carefully didn’t reveal their fates, but I had my suspicions. I didn’t think the council could allow people with knowledge of Weres to survive and plot against their kind again. Tim remained close-mouthed about the rest of the night, but Eliza revealed both she and Tim had been berated for involving non-Weres in pack business. She told me there was further debate among the Were team about taking permanent action to ensure silence from me and Sheila. In the end, however, the more dubious members of the team had been convinced I—as Carson’s mother—had vested interest aligned with the pack. Sheila, as a Witch, didn’t pose quite the same threat a regular human would. She, too, was a complicit partner in keeping such realms of activity private. Hopefully, the council agreed when they received the report.
As for Dave? His fate hung in the balance. A very sober Eliza explained he would have a full trial by the council. Most likely, his Were powers would be permanently stripped, a punishment meted out by nine full moon wolves ritually calling the moon. Or he might be executed. I wasn’t sure which Dave would think worse.
I searched the Las Vegas papers for the next two days, thinking I’d see some sort of reference to our escapades, but found nothing. I wasn’t quite sure how the council managed it, but they must have connections in high places.
****
Our goodbyes were hard. Sheila and Tim stood off in a corner talking in low voices, holding hands. She gazed at him as if trying to memorize every feature and build a holodeck or something. He looked rumpled and affable as usual, but something in his stance matched her intensity.
Eliza, Ian, and I stood near the doors. Ian held Carson. Since That Night, which had somehow become capitalized whenever we referred to it, Ian hadn’t spent nearly as much time sulking and peering through his bangs. He dropped the I’m-too-cool-to-dote-on-a-baby act, as well. I think he spent a lot of time reassessing things. He’d been generally quiet and wouldn’t talk about Dave. I didn’t know enough about teenagers—heck, or about Werewolves—to push him, so I focused on playing a supportive surrogate big sister role, letting him know I was there; ready to listen when he wanted to talk. I did a lot of talking,
myself, convinced it was good for him to hear my own thoughts and confusion about everything. The terror I felt over Carson. The anger and the pity I felt for Dave. The horror I felt killing a man, even though it saved Tim’s life. The grief I still felt about Mac. I had a hard time coming to terms with it all, and I thought the least I could do was to show Ian some of my own process. He turned out to be a good listener.
“So, you’re going to come and visit us in Oregon, right? Both of you?”
“Damn straight,” said Eliza. “Next time, no crazy stalking killers.”
Ian snorted. “I’m sure my mom will have us all visiting you so often you’ll think twice about inviting us.”
Silence took over as we all thought through the ramifications of my jaunt to Greybull.
“Unless I move to Greybull like your dad said I should. Right?” I meant it as a joke to lighten the mood.
Eliza’s voice turned serious, ignoring my wishes for levity and a smooth parting. “Actually, Julie, you should think about it. There will come a time—soon—when Carson needs other Weres. What are you going to do in two weeks when he changes again? Or, maybe you can handle things next month, but what about in a year or so, when he needs to explore and learn how to hunt?”
“God, Eliza. Let’s take things one step at a time, okay?”
I was not moving to Greybull, Wyoming. No way, no how.
“Besides,” I added, smiling weakly, “Maybe Tim will relocate to southern Oregon, given the way the lovebirds over there are carrying on.”
Eliza let the subject drop, though I understood it as a momentary reprieve from what would be a long-standing topic of discussion.
“Sheila,” I called. “We should get moving.”
In response, Sheila flung herself into Tim’s arms. Eliza and I spent some time making faces at each other before I loudly ahem-ed several times and Sheila resurfaced. Tim smiled in a bemused fashion and ran a hand over his hair, causing several curls to stand up straight with his attempt to smooth it.
After a chorus of goodbyes and plenty of hugs, I snapped Carson into his cow-print car seat and joined Sheila in the front. With a deep breath, I started the car. Somehow, it felt like surfacing after a long underwater swim, back into real life. Back to Jacksonville, Oregon, where surely things would settle back into something approaching normality.
As we pulled out of the parking lot, Eliza waved frantically and I rolled down the window.
“Julie,” she yelled.
“What?”
“Make sure he doesn’t bite you.”
It took me a minute to understand her meaning, but then I shot an alarmed glance at the backseat, at my peaceful little baby who had no teeth. Yet.
A word about the author…
Sarah’s love of reading, writing, and all things fantasy started with her explorations of Narnia, Middle Earth, and Pern. She is a huge enthusiast of all fantasy, paranormal, and science fiction. Flying her geek flag early, she started D&D with the good old boxed sets (and still plays today). Her stories focus on strong women, strong friendships, magic, and love.
She lives with her partner Gary, their three kids, and three cats. She’s also an artist and a boardgame geek.
http://sarahestevens.com
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