“And that wraps that up! Next up, Mike Ryans with the weather.”
“Huh,” Killian said as he shut off the TV. Grover twisted in and out of his legs, purring. He knew it was time for Killian to leave. Killian stayed in his seat, though, and picked up his phone.
“Alpha M,” Mariella answered.
“You watch the news?” He asked.
“Sure did. Gemma just put us on the map for hunters.”
“And wolves.”
“Yeah, but how many of them do you think are gonna believe her?”
“Fair. What do we do?”
“Summit meeting tonight…with everybody. You going to the ceremony?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Reports to Sven from his apprentices are all good. He misses you, though.”
“Feeling’s mutual, darlin’.”
“Well don’t punish him forever, then, alright? He went through some shit.”
“Yes ma’am,” Killian said with an appreciative smile.
“Damn straight. I’ll see you there.”
She hung up and Killian smirked. It pleased him to know how invested she was into the personal lives of the shifters; she’d made a damn good Alpha for the interim, but he could tell she was ready for it to be over. She was more tactical than political, and this exercise had been as draining for her as it must have been for Broderick. Sven had also been through the ringer, stepping in with the help of Bernadette and Maude to run the hospital in Snow’s absence. Ru had started apprenticing with Boris after school, helping out with basic trims and clips. They had made it work, but it would be a great relief to everyone when things really got back to normal.
There had been a lot of progress in that department over the last two months. A third of the rescued shifters had not survived before the doctors figured out how to stabilize their forms. Pan and Snow had been on the right track; DNA from born shifters would save their lives, but it had to be given in incredibly small doses over a period of several weeks. The crazed shifter who had died at Mariella’s hand had eventually died for good, as his body burned up with massive quantities of born shifter blood. Floyd had survived, but barely. He had been rehabilitating in lockdown for weeks, and was nearly ready to be released. The doctors were being extra cautious, though, in light of all that had happened. Jacob had made a full recovery, and his doctor said that, if anything, he had a stronger constitution than any other shifter he’d seen. His mind recovered as well, and he had been integrated into the school alongside his adoptive siblings after a ten-day stint in the hospital; which had been probably twice as long as he needed, and he had been infinitely grateful to be out once he’d been released.
Killian dumped Grover’s bulk onto his tree, and Grover curled into the patch of sunlight. Normal was close enough to taste, Killian thought as he left the house and stepped into the chilly winter morning. As he walked through the buildings of the city center, he was joined by shifter after shifter. They had all been waiting for this moment for weeks. Each of them, he knew, had gone through a series of emotional stages after the three shifters had been arrested, very similar to grief. Sven had been indispensable throughout that time, leading them through one after the other like a gentle shepherd. In doing so, he had resolved his own disappointment and distress. Killian suspected that he was eager to see his husband again, just as Killian was eager to see Pan. It had been difficult to forgive him, at first. He was extremely protective of his kids, and it hadn’t been until Damian expressed how he felt about Pan that Killian felt ready to move on from his anger.
Damian had proved himself to be resilient as well as quick to forgive; that is, if he thought he had anything to forgive at all. He’d had nightmares for a while, but had faced them head-on. One day, after school, he’d asked Killian to walk him to the hospital.
“Are you sick?” Killian had asked.
“No. I just need to go in there.”
“Would you feel better with your mom or dad with you?”
The boy only shook his head. “Mom doesn’t want me to think about it. Dad gets angry when I talk about it. I need to see it. I don’t know why.”
He’d taken him in hand and led him to the hospital, knowing that this was probably one of those things that he should talk about. But the hospital was perfectly safe now; Floyd was still locked in the basement, along with most of the rescued shifters who were still transitioning. The scene had been scrubbed clean by the staff, under Maude’s sharp instruction. Kids had been allowed back into the building for their standard checkups and vaccinations, so Killian hadn’t been concerned about Damian’s physical safety; but he was worried about what the memory would do to his mind. Killian watched him closely as they approached the doors. Damian’s heart pounded, Killian could feel it in his wrist, but he didn’t hesitate to go through the doors. Once inside, he stood and stared.
“That’s where the monster died,” he said, pointing at the ground. “That’s where I was when Pan saved my life.” He led Killian over to the reception desk, where Bernadette was happy to let him wander. “This was my cupboard.” He touched the door, scarred with claw marks. He stared at them for a long time. “He got really close,” he said. “Pan was really brave.”
“So were you,” Killian said, meaning every word.
Damian looked up at Killian with wide eyes filled with awe. “I would have died without Pan,” he said reverently. “So would Floyd. Pan’s a hero.”
Killian hesitated for a moment, but Damian’s words held truth. Sometimes heroism was more complex than perfect, and Damian had seen what Killian hadn’t allowed himself to see through his anger. It was in that moment that he began to forgive the crazy, determined, stubborn shifter.
“Yeah,” Killian agreed. “Yeah, he is.”
That had been five weeks ago. Today, surrounded by ten thousand shifters and more, Killian went to the open space between town and research facility, to stand in front of the pavilion which had been erected there. His kids and their parents gravitated toward him, as did Lee, Brad, and their partners. Seeing Brad kiss his fiancé in front of everyone whose opinions mattered most to him was reassuring, though it still gave him a shock of reflexive panic. Learn to trust them, he told himself. They’re good people.
Once all of the shifters had come together in a group, Mariella took her place on the pavilion. She looked over the sea of shifters with sharp, knowing eyes. She found Killian’s face, and he smiled at her. She nodded once and relaxed, then began speaking into the microphone.
“Thank you all for coming. This is an important day for Regis Thyme. As you know, we recently faced the most difficult time our city has seen since the end of the first wave. I wasn’t around for that, but I’ve heard stories.”
A chuckle rippled through the crowd and she grinned.
“We faced a lot of difficult choices in October, and for the most part, we did alright. But we also had to come face to face with our darker instincts and impulses. We had to recognize that we, as a people, are just as fallible as the people we left behind. Problem is, those people don’t have the same power we have. We discovered our weaknesses, and decided to be better.
“Sometimes the only way to get better is to step back and evaluate what went wrong in the first place. As you know, three of our shifters…two leaders, one nurturer…were sent to the disciplinary wing two months ago. If we were still on the outside, you know what that would mean. Hell in six by six cells and slop for dinner. But we decided to be better than that. This was not a prison sentence, not in the way we understand them; this was a retreat. A rehabilitation. A time to turn inward and find out what went wrong, and how to make it right. Now, after two solid months of incessant therapy and mindful exercises, we welcome our own back into the fold with open arms. We all make mistakes. It’s what we do afterwards that makes us who we are.
“So let’s hear it for the boys. Broderick Thyme, Henry Snow, and Pan Jefferson, come say hi to your family.”
The crowd burst into cheers
as the three men took the stage. Broderick beamed and waved, and was immediately tackled in a bear hug by Sven. Cheers turned to whoops and whistles as the men kissed for a long moment. Snow smiled almost apologetically, but seemed more than happy to be there. Pan…Pan looked amazing. His hair had grown out and the blue had faded, and his blonde hair flopped over one side of his face, which was glowing. He seemed to be a little softer, maybe a little heavier, but he was absolutely beautiful to Killian. His expression, however, made Killian nervous. He’d seen that look only once before, the moment after Damian had bit Floyd at his instruction.
Before Killian could begin to imagine what was on his mind, Broderick was at the microphone.
“Thank you. Thank you all. For letting me go, and for bringing me back. It’s easy to let your ego get the best of you, especially when you hold so much power. I promise, to all of you, that I will be more conscious of my own ego in the future; and invite you to tell me if I am in danger of doing something foolish. I’m sure Sven can tell you, it happens more often than I would like.”
Chuckles answered him, and he smiled broadly, then turned back to Sven for another firm embrace. Snow took the microphone next.
“I am afraid I got ahead of myself, and did not consult the great minds who work with me every day before action. I extend my sincere apologies to the community.” Applause, and he stepped away.
Everyone expected Pan to say a few words. He stood, arms folded, staring at the microphone for a long minute. Killian tried to catch his eye, but Pan wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at his own thoughts, pondering something so deeply that it turned Killian’s gut with worry. Finally, after an awkward silence had fallen completely over the crowd, Pan took the podium.
“I made a mistake,” Pan began. “But who hasn’t?”
Nervous titters answered him, and he shook his head in frustration.
“No, I mean it. Who here has spent the last thirteen years terrified of making a single mistake? We get up on time, every time. We have our routines to keep us in line. We stick around doing useless busywork like we’re making a paycheck to live on, when we don’t even live in a capitalist society. We toe the line, day in, day out. But whose line is it? What are we afraid of? Look around, people! Look at those walls! You act like someone is sitting outside, waiting to take everything away from you all over again. What are they going to take? These clothes?” He ripped off his uniform scrub top and tossed it to the ground in disgust.
“Our kids? Who’s going to take them? The humans sure as hell don’t want them. Our money? What money? We don’t have it because we don’t need it! Look at yourselves, in your boxes. We all wear the same four colors, did you notice that? Red, blue, brown, grey. You painted the houses, sure, but what did you paint them? Pink, yellow, blue, and brown. There’s brown everywhere. We grow our own food, but when was the last time you ate something new? We print our own clothes, but when was the last time you wore something you liked? Listened to music out loud? Danced in the fucking streets? This is our home, goddamnit, we make the fucking rules, but you’re all tip-toeing around like you’re afraid to wake the neighbors. There are no neighbors! Why the hell are we still pretending that human society means a goddamn thing in here? Yeah, I made a fucking mistake. But at least I had the balls to do it.”
Thunderous silence settled over the crowd as Pan walked offstage.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Hot, angry tears trickled down Pan’s cheeks as he walked away from the crowd. He stepped through the open gate of the caged field and started walking, feeling trapped and suffocated in spite of his newfound freedom. The isolation and therapy had only increased his general frustration and dissatisfaction with himself and Regis Thyme. He had made a mistake with Damian, and he knew it. He’d been desperate and cocky and impulsive, which was a dangerous combination under the best of circumstances. He would apologize to Boris in private for being the catalyst for the events that eventually endangered Damian; but he would be damned if he would make promises he didn’t intend to keep. He had every intention of continuing to make risky decisions…he would just be more careful about who he pulled in to those decisions.
He had walked nearly a mile when he became aware of the sound of footfalls following him at a quick pace. Someone to talk sense into him, he assumed. He could start running or he could stop walking, but the closer the other person came, the pettier it felt to just keep walking. He stopped and turned, and was surprised to see Killian. He had been prepared for Killian to never speak to him again. He waited with his hands on his grey-clad hips as Killian approached.
“Hi,” Killian said breathlessly.
“Hello.”
They stood awkwardly for a long moment. Killian looked like he wanted to say something, but kept hesitating.
“Out for a run?” Pan said, breaking the ice.
“Well I hadn’t planned on it,” Killian said with a weak smile. “But I saw my hero run this way and I got a little star struck. Maybe you’ve seen him? ‘Bout this high, blonde hair with a little blue at the ends, topless, with eyes like the Mediterranean Sea?”
Pan looked away, fighting a grin and losing. He squinted at Killian sideways in the morning sunlight.
“Hero, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” Killian said. “He saved a ton of people with his magic flute, not to mention a little boy and a surrogate father. I think he’s a hero to a lot of people.”
“Maybe not anymore,” Pan said ruefully.
“What, that speech? You were completely right, and they all know it. If they don’t, they’re idiots. You should have stuck around for a minute, it was incredible. Everybody had this moment of realization and started flinging off their scrubs.”
“They did not,” Pan laughed.
“No, but they did start talking. I heard at least two ‘I used to wear miniskirts’ and several ‘I haven’t even looked at my hair in years’. I don’t know if fashion was exactly your whole point, but it’s a start. I think your outburst was exactly what everybody needed.”
“That’s how I do,” Pan said wryly. “Fuck up dramatically and end up helping. They told me the shifter I pumped full of blood died.”
“Yeah. Good thing, too.”
Pan cocked his head in confusion.
“The others stabilized enough to start talking about a week after you left. That particular creature was what was left of the first doctor O’Conner hired. He made a few breakthroughs…at least he thought he did…and turned himself into that, probably on accident. This shifter science is pretty tricky. Anyway, I guess he was notorious for excessively torturous methods, and took great pleasure out of killing and maiming.”
“Oh,” Pan said with a shudder. “Well there you have it, proof positive of my clumsy luck.”
Killian nodded, and looked away across the field. “Boris isn’t thrilled at the thought of you coming back to work.”
“I figured.”
“What are you going to do?”
Pan shrugged. “Apologize first. Then I’ll do something else. I’ve done hair for fifteen years now. Maybe it’s time to try something new.”
“Like what?”
Pan thought about it for a moment, then a beaming smile spread across his face. “Fashion,” he said. “Get some alternatives to these damn scrubs.”
“Can’t think of a more passionate person to blaze that trail,” Killian said.
Pan looked at him intensely for a moment. “You’re being really nice to me. I didn’t expect that. When I left, you were furious with me on multiple levels. What happened to all that?”
“I learned a few things,” Killian said with a shrug.
“Like what?”
“Like…Regis Thyme shifters are good people, and really just want to see people happy. And that Damian pretty much thinks you’re a god…which pretty much takes the black and white out of the good guy / bad guy dynamic. I looked back over everything with a clear head and found myself really admiring you. You’re brave and passio
nate and musical. You give a shit about people, especially kids. I don’t know, but I started to suspect that Damian’s involvement was actually an expression of that rather than a rejection of it. That’s part of why I came out here. I wanted to ask you why you did what you did.”
Pan was startled by that. For all the therapy, all the meditation, all the rehabilitation, no one had ever asked him that. Everyone assumed they knew.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I’ve been wanting to answer that for months, but nobody bothered to ask. I did it because that night, two children lost a father they would never know, and I couldn’t bear for that count to go up. I chose Damian because I knew he was still tormenting himself over hurting you, and was in danger of rejecting everything that made him who he was because of it. I wanted him to see that he wasn’t bad or wrong or inherently evil; that there was magic in him, and it was up to him to choose how to use it. It was impulsive and I didn’t think it through thoroughly, and I didn’t know the science, and it was unsanctioned and wholly instinctual…but I knew then and damn it I know now that it was the right thing to do.”
Killian took a step toward him and gazed into his eyes.
“I’m glad,” he said. “I was hoping it was something like that. I’m sorry I reacted poorly.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad you did. It helped me to know that Damian had someone so fiercely loyal in his corner through all this. You’re a good man, Killian. A boring one, when you aren’t kicking turncoat shifter ass, but a good one.”
“Thanks,” Killian laughed, rolling his eyes. “So are you.”
“Yeah, maybe. Speaking of the turncoats, what happened to our three prisoners?”
“They’re in there,” Killian said, nodding at the research lab. “A floor below where you were.”
Dying to Live: The Shifter City Complete Series Page 35
