“As in . . . the backyard?” Foolishly, it hadn’t occurred to me that the event would be held outside in the dead of winter. Of course it would. It was a freaking werewolf mixer. “Never mind.”
I parked on an expanse of hard-packed snow beside someone’s rental car and followed a well-trodden path around the ranch house to the backyard, where twenty or so young men and women ranging in age from teens to early thirties were having . . . well, a mixer.
At a glance, aside from the fact that it was the middle of winter, it looked like any ordinary backyard bash. There were picnic tables. On the deck, there was a keg with a half-empty plastic bag of red Solo cups beside it, as well as a charcoal grill with a variety of meat products sizzling away. Some of the younger teens were racing back and forth and hurling snowballs at one another in a complicated game of tag, and members of the older cohort were playing volleyball on either side of a sagging net that had probably been erected in the summer, laughing and lunging and diving for the ball.
The bearded older gentleman manning the grill caught my eye and set down his tongs. “Daisy Johanssen?”
“Yes.”
Approaching me, he held out his hand. “Elijah Fairfax, clan patriarch.” His tone was reserved. “Thank you for coming.”
I shook his hand. “Of course.”
There was a glint in Uncle Elijah’s eyes that suggested he knew it wasn’t that simple. Well, he should know, since he’d called for this mixer to set Cody on the path toward finding a suitable mate. But he didn’t say anything, just released my hand, stuck two fingers in his mouth, and uttered a short, shrill whistle.
And . . . it was at that point that it ceased to resemble an ordinary, mundane gathering.
All across the backyard, heads turned attentively, phosphorescent green flashing behind myriad eyes. Conversations were put on hold, games of tag and volleyball were abandoned. The out-of-town visitors converged on me with careless athletic grace, forming a greeting line of sorts, nudging and elbowing, snarling and snapping their strong white teeth playfully at one another in a bid to gain position.
In the woods on the far verge of the yard, a pair of young wolves broke cover, racing to join us. One wolf planted a stiff foreleg and shoulder-checked the other, sending it tumbling.
From the cloud of snow and fur that ensued, a naked young woman arose. Shaking out her hair, she laughed and called, “No fair!” before trotting over to one of the picnic tables to retrieve her clothing.
Yep, definitely not a mundane keg party.
One by one, the dozen visiting werewolves introduced themselves to me by first name, clan name, and city. They’d come in groups or pairs—four from Seattle, two from Denver, four from Montreal, and two from New York. Although I hadn’t actually met all the members of the Fairfax clan, especially the younger ones, they hung back. Apparently this formality was for the benefit of the visitors, each of whom shook my hand with a solemn politeness that was somewhat undermined by the way each one leaned in to get a good whiff of my scent. Werewolf etiquette—go figure.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Cody in the background, his hands shoved into the pockets of a heavy, shearling-lined suede jacket that hung open to the cold, a studiedly neutral expression on his face.
I recognized Stephanie from Seattle—Clan Hawthorne, by the way—in the greeting line. She looked just like she did in the profile picture I’d seen on Cody’s laptop, only prettier—tall and sporty-slim, blue-gray eyes sparkling in the cold air, a healthy pink flush on her cheeks. I bet she was a great volleyball player.
“Thank you for inviting us to visit,” Stephanie said cheerfully after leaning over to sniff my hair.
“You’re very welcome,” I said as though I’d had any choice in the matter, suppressing a violent surge of jealousy. After all, it wasn’t her fault that my relationship with Cody was a nonstarter. “I hope you enjoy it here.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, it’s wonderful!” She made an expansive gesture. “So much territory to roam! Just to see it is worth the hours spent confined in mundane airspace.”
“Isn’t Seattle, like, the hiking capital of the United States?” I asked.
“Outside of the Yama King’s territory, it is,” Stephanie said, looking wistful. “Oh, there are miles and miles of wilderness! But we can’t shift there. Only in the city, above the underworld.”
“That must be frustrating,” I said.
Stephanie’s upper lip curled in an unself-conscious half snarl. Oddly enough, she still looked wholesome doing it. “It is.”
Once I’d met the whole visiting contingent, it appeared that my official duties were done. I wasn’t sure if Cody was going to ignore me, but he manned up and came over to greet me as the receiving line dissolved and hungry and thirsty young werewolves headed for the keg and the platters of rare steak, underdone burgers, and half-cooked sausages stacked around the charcoal grill.
“Hey, Daise,” Cody said quietly. “Thank you for doing this.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know.”
It was awkward. I didn’t know what to say, what to do with my feelings. By the look on his face, neither did Cody. “So how long am I expected to stay at this thing?” I asked him.
He glanced at the horizon. “Not long. Until the sun sinks below the tree line. Come dusk, there will be a hunt.”
“I bet these city-slicker werewolves are looking forward to that,” I said. “So much territory to roam!”
“Daisy.” Cody squared his shoulders. “Don’t.”
I sighed. “She seems very nice, Cody. They all do. It’s just—”
“I know!” He raised his voice, then lowered it. “I know. Sorry. I’m in a shitty mood. On top of everything else, I got a subpoena Friday night. I heard you and the chief got served earlier. Any idea why?”
“Nope.” I watched the mingling tribes fill their plates. Stephanie headed over toward us, a plate in either hand.
“I brought you a steak,” she said to Cody, setting the plates down on a picnic table beside us. “Liaison, can I get you anything? A beer?”
“I’ll get it,” Cody said before I could answer. “I’ll get beer for all of us. I’m supposed to be one of the hosts here. Daisy, can I bring you a plate?”
“No, thanks.” Even if I’d had an appetite, which I didn’t, I wasn’t a big fan of werewolf grilling techniques. “Beer’s fine.” I didn’t really want a beer, either, but I didn’t want to be rude.
Actually, that wasn’t true. I was in a shitty mood, too. Right now, I was angry at the world. But it wasn’t the fault of our visitors, including the fresh-faced werewolf Stephanie taking a seat at the picnic table, so I shoved my anger into a padlocked trunk and sealed it away.
“You work with Cody, right?” Stephanie said when I sat opposite her.
“Sometimes,” I said. “Just on cases with an eldritch angle.”
She glanced toward the keg, where he was filling a cup. “He’s different than I expected from chatting online.”
“Oh?”
Stephanie sawed off a big chunk of exceedingly rare steak. “Moodier, I guess.”
“He’s got a lot on his mind,” I said. “Everyone does. The town’s facing a big lawsuit.”
“I heard.” She paused, fork in hand. “Are you worried about the outcome?”
I wanted to say hell yes, I was worried about the outcome—and worse, I was worried about what happened if we lost. I was scared and worried and pissed off and jealous, and I didn’t want to be sitting at a picnic table in Cody’s uncle’s backyard in the middle of January, feeling like a visiting diplomat in my red wool coat with the faux-fur collar while a bunch of werewolves in casual sportswear gorged on half-cooked meat and got to know one another.
The padlocked trunk in my mind rattled with the force of my suppressed emotions. I reinforced it with a couple of steel bands.
“I’m concerned,” I said in a level tone. “But we can always appeal it.”
&
nbsp; Cody returned, carefully carrying three red Solo cups full of beer. “All right, here we are.”
Stephanie took one and hoisted it with a cheerful smile. “To new friends!”
Great. Now I felt guilty, too.
Over the course of the next half hour, I learned what Stephanie did for a living—for the record, she was a phlebotomy technician and worked at a hospital in Seattle. I learned that phlebotomy technician was the official medical term for the person who draws your blood. I learned that the Yama King who presided over Seattle’s underworld was one of eight, or possibly ten, infernal Chinese deities, several of whom had emigrated to the United States. I learned that most of the older, married, or mated members of the Fairfax clan weren’t at the mixer today because they were on sentry duty in the woods, making sure the gathering was undisturbed and scouting for signs of game. I learned that yes, it was customary to gorge before a hunt, especially at a mingling of the clans, since there was no guarantee that a kill would be made, and if it was, it would be shared by everyone, even if it was just a rabbit.
Throughout it all, I managed to keep a pleasant smile on my face, tending to the rattling trunk in my mind.
As the sun sank toward the tree line, the mood of the gathering began to change. Playful banter gave way to a charged excitement. All those gleaming white teeth took on a menacing edge.
The hunt was nigh and there was bloodlust in the air, and it affected all of them. I saw Cody and Stephanie exchange fierce grins. Oh, Cody might not be entirely happy about this whole mixer, but right now he was filled with heady exhilaration, looking forward to shedding his cares, shedding his clothes, shedding his humanity, and plunging into the snowy woods, where he and oh-so-suitable mate Stephanie from Seattle, Clan Hawthorne, would roam the territory side by side in the hope of bringing down a deer, or at least a rabbit.
God, I envied them. If I could turn into a wolf, forget everything, and just hunt beneath the moon for the night, I would.
Over by the grill, Elijah Fairfax, clan patriarch, gave me a grim smile and a faint nod, as if to say, Now you understand. Now you see why you and my nephew could never be together.
I fought the urge to flip him off.
Tree shadows stretched long and stark across the trampled snow. Here and there, the younger werewolves began to strip off their clothes and shift in preparation for the hunt, milling eagerly.
“I should go.” I extricated myself from the picnic table. “Good night and . . . good hunting.”
Cody rose. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
I shook my head at him. “No, be a good host and stay. I’ll see myself out.” I raised one gloved hand to Stephanie. “It was nice to meet all of you.”
She smiled brightly at me with too many teeth, her eyes flashing that eerie hue of green. “Give our thanks to Hel for her hospitality.”
“I will.”
I should have gone home, or to my mom’s, or to Jen and Sinclair’s place. Hell, I should have grabbed a six-pack and headed out to the abandoned Presbyterian camp to play another game of Battleship with Skrrzzzt the bogle, listening for the faint sound of wolves howling in the distance.
What I shouldn’t have done was go to the Wheelhouse to see Stefan, which is exactly what I did.
Forty
It’s not like I had a plan. I didn’t. I parked in the Wheelhouse’s lot without thinking and entered the place, my pent-up emotions ticking inside me like a time bomb.
Bad idea.
The atmosphere took on an immediate charge, the Outcast clientele responding to my presence faster than werewolves anticipating a hunt. And why not? After all, their prey had come to them. At least I had the presence of mind to kindle a shield as I made my way across the bar.
“Daisy.” Stefan abandoned the conversation he was having with his lieutenants Cooper and Rafe, grabbed me by the arm and steered me into his office, closing the door behind us. “What is it? Did something happen at the clan gathering to upset you?”
“No, nothing happened.” On impulse, I dropped my shield. “I want you to take it away.”
He blinked at me. “I beg your pardon?”
“These feelings.” I gestured at myself. “These fucking feelings! I don’t want them! It’s too much.”
Stefan’s expression changed. “Ah. Your feelings for Officer Fairfax.”
“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” I asked him. “You said you could help me. Well, I’m coming to you for help, Stefan.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Not this way.”
“Why not?” It fueled the anger I was barely keeping in check. “Hell, you don’t have any problems doing it on your terms! There’s too much at stake. I can’t afford to be knotted up with jealousy over some stupid school-girl crush right now, so I’m asking you to take it away!”
The overhead lights in Stefan’s office flickered. “No,” he said in a steely tone. “Even if it could be done in a lasting manner, if you and I are going to be together, it will be because you chose me over the wolf, Daisy. Not because I tampered with your emotions.”
Daughter—my father’s voice rumbled in my mind—there is another way. All that you desire could be yours. You have but to ask.
Oh, God, not this, not now. A rill of fury ran through me. I pressed my knuckles against my temples. “Shut up! Go away! This isn’t fair!”
“Daisy, you’re being unreasonable,” Stefan said in a calmer tone. “You can’t ask me—”
The padlocked trunk I’d envisioned was straining at the seams, ready to burst. I hurled it at Stefan like a soldier lobbing a live grenade, shouting at him. “In that case, I’m not asking!”
His pupils snapped open. Fully open.
It happened so fast, there should have been a sound—an explosion, a thunderclap. Instead there was only silence as Stefan went from controlled to ravening in the space of a single heartbeat. For a split second, I wasn’t afraid. Purged of the roiling emotions I’d locked away, for a split second I felt peaceful and empty.
It didn’t last.
Stefan’s eyes were like black holes, all trace of iris swallowed by his immense pupils. I thought I’d looked into the abyss before, but I was wrong. Dead wrong. This was the abyss. This was Stefan with all his humanity stripped away, until nothing was left but the endless hunger.
“Oh, you stupid, stupid girl,” he said in a soft, terrifying voice, slamming me bodily against the door to his office. “Look at what you’ve done.”
And then the fear came: great, crashing waves of fear rushing in to fill the emptiness. Holding me in place, Stefan drank it in with parted lips, wave upon wave. The earth tilted on its axis and I was falling into him, falling into the blackness of that bottomless void. Deeper and deeper, with every pulse of fear, every surge of helpless rage, feeling myself emptied into him, an awful hollowness blossoming inside of me. The vacant faces of the father and daughter that Cooper had drained on Halloween flashed before my eyes, creating a fresh wave of terror.
It didn’t matter. Whatever I felt, it only fed Stefan. The more I struggled, the blood pounding in my ears, the stronger he grew. Belatedly, I tried to raise a shield, but I’d waited too long. I was weak and couldn’t focus. My fingers scrabbled ineffectually at my messenger bag, trying in vain to unbuckle it and reach for dauda-dagr, but I might as well have been reaching for the moon.
Stefan was right. I was a stupid, stupid girl.
And he was going to drain me. The thought made me feel sick with fear . . . and then that passed, too.
“Stop it,” I whispered. “Stefan, please!”
He pressed closer against me, his face looming above mine, and smiled a terrible smile. “I can’t.”
I closed my eyes. I couldn’t bear to watch him do it. And then that emotion vanished like the others, the hollowness inside me growing.
If Cooper hadn’t yanked open Stefan’s office door, uttering a steady stream of Irish-accented invective, I don’t know what would have happened. A pair of wiry arms
grabbed me from behind as I fell, hauling me backward. Opening my eyes, I saw Stefan’s gaze shift off me. It felt like I’d been released from the gravitational pull of a black hole seconds before crossing the point of no return.
“Cooper.” Stefan’s eyes glittered ominously. “Get out.”
“You’ll thank me for this in the morning, big man,” Cooper retorted. “At least I sure as feckin’ hell hope so. Rafe!”
I didn’t actually see what happened when Stefan’s second lieutenant pushed past Cooper and me, but I heard the distinctive crackling sound of a Taser, accompanied by a furious bellow of pain, more crackling, a thud, and then the sound of a door being slammed shut and a chair wedged under the doorknob.
“Get her the fuck out of here!” Rafe shouted.
“Go.” Cooper spun me around and shoved me in the direction of the exit. “Move it, Daisy! Before you set the whole lot of us off!”
If any of the Outcast in the Wheelhouse had attacked me, I would have been easy prey. It took all my concentration to move my feet, putting one in front of the other, stumbling toward the far door. I might as well have been a hamstrung deer, leaving a trail of blood spoor behind me. Beside me, Cooper exhorted me with curses, his voice filled with fear.
The other ghouls watched with avid eyes, but no one attacked. Maybe due to fear of Stefan’s wrath, or maybe I’d gone past the point of being easy prey. Maybe I was little more than a picked-over carcass by now.
Outside, I slumped against the hood of my Honda and gazed up at the sky. Nightfall came quickly in winter. It was almost fully dark and the stars were beginning to emerge between a scattering of clouds.
Closing the door to the bar behind him, Cooper shuddered with relief. “What the fuck was that all about, Miss Daisy?”
“I was angry,” I murmured. “And I did something stupid.”
“Do you reckon?” Cooper regarded me with dilated pupils, his breath frosting in the cold air. “You were lucky. Damned lucky. Rafe only brought that stun gun in today after last night’s fracas. If we hadn’t had it . . .” He let his words trail off. “Well, you were lucky. Don’t you ever try anything like it again, hear me? The big man won’t let us get the jump on him twice.”
Poison Fruit Page 33
