For the Good of All

  “Turns out he had food-poisoning and was puking his guts out.”

  “Yeah, well I don’t care if his toenails were coming out his nostrils; if he’d been there, Christina wouldn’t have ended up getting shot.”

  “The chopper pilot didn’t see her. His version is that she didn’t make it to the rendezvous. Another thought he might have seen something on the ground but couldn’t confirm it was a person.”

  “She made it. She was at the clearing, waiting to be airlifted out. She could barely walk; I half carried her through the jungle.” Stone paused, his throat feeling thick and tight as he recalled how she’d struggled, her determination keeping her alive against all odds. She’d been weak and pale, her skin hot to the touch as she leaned against him, trust filling her eyes when she looked up at him. During the night, as he’d held her, he’d told her it would be all right. That the chopper would take them to safety, to a hospital. There’d be doctors waiting to treat her. She’d believed him and it had all been a lie. He had to force the words out. “She was left behind. I left her behind.”

  Reno pursed his lips. “That was a tough decision.”

  “She told me…” He struggled to keep his voice steady. “She told me to take the kids first. I said I’d put them in the chopper and then come back for her.” He clenched the arms of the chair and stared unseeingly across the room, reliving those last moments in his mind. Her eyes had looked so large in her pale face, streaks of dirt on her cheeks, her lips trembling as she tried to hide how scared she was. His Christina had been so brave…

  “And…?”

  Once again, Reno’s voice jerked him back to the present. “Umm...” He licked his lips and hurriedly finished the recount. “Mendoza’s men arrived and started firing at the chopper. The pilot took off without her. I tried to jump, to stay with her but…” He shook his head.

  “Damn. I really am sorry. I know the two of you had something going on.”

  “Yeah. We had something.” Stone recalled the feeling inside him when he was with her, the pull he felt towards her, the brightness and warmth she’d brought into his life. He scrubbed his hands over his face, an unfamiliar moisture having appeared on his cheek. “Listen, I uh…” He cleared his throat. “I’m feeling tired right now. I think I’d better lie down for a bit.”

  “Sure. I understand.” Reno nodded. “Rest. I’ll start on my report and check back with you later on.”

  Stone made no comment. He barely heard the click of the shutting door. There was a roaring sound in his ears, a sick feeling churning within him. His body was shaking uncontrollably. The edges of his vision seemed to grow dark. He held on to the chair as if it were an anchor, taking deep breaths, fighting to maintain his composure.

  Christina was gone. He’d never again see her eyes sparkle or be able to chuckle at her innovative curses. He’d never kiss her or hear the soft sounds she made during sex. Never feel her curved against his body, her warmth filling an emptiness inside him. No more colourful hair. No more crazy make-up or outlandish clothing.

  He exhaled, his breath shuddering as he forced himself to repeat the hated words, forced himself to accept the reality.

  Dead. Christina was dead.

  If Mendoza’s goons hadn’t found her and killed her then infection would likely have done her in. An image of her alone, fevered and in pain rose before him. How long had she waited for him, believing his promises? When had that hope finally faded? When had she realized he was never coming back, that she’d been left alone and no rescue was coming? She must have been so scared, terrified even. Abandoned, sick, no one to comfort her.

  The sting of a whip had nothing on the pain that filled him now. His Christina had died alone, thinking she was forgotten. Could anything be worse?

  “I didn’t forget you, Christina. I swear I tried.” His voice cracked. The whispered words echoed in the sterile, empty room as dampness stained his cheeks.

  Maybe it was the Fates punishing him for forgetting his place in life. He was a Shomer Virtus. He couldn’t afford to feel. Christina’s death might be his punishment for daring to care. There should be no tears pricking his eyes. He was supposed to be strong for those who were weak, who couldn’t help themselves. If he started to crumble, who would they have to turn to? He loosened his grip on the chair and carefully rose to his feet, his chin jutted. Stone by name and stone by nature.

  She trusted us to keep her safe. His wolf spat out the words. You left her behind.

  The words were like a knife to his heart, causing every bit of life to bleed out of him. Even his wolf condemned him. The animal and he had always been as one. Now there was an empty void.

  Now you are alone, just as she was. The creature turned its back in disgust.

  He walked to the bed and eased himself down. He’d acted for the good of all; that fact brought him no comfort. She’d died. He’d left her behind to die. It was his fault. His guilt. He had no one to blame for the gaping wound where his heart should be. No one except himself.

  The pillow was cool beneath his head, a sharp contrast to the fire of guilt that burned in his soul. Putting an arm over his eyes, he tried to block out the world.

  He felt like shit.

  Reno exited the room and the door swung shut behind him. He stood quietly in the hall, staring at the floor, mentally preparing himself for the call he was about to make. He’d have to inform Tina’s next of kin. Even though she hadn’t been a Lycan, he couldn’t allow her disappearance to remain a mystery; that would be too cruel to those who loved her. Sam would know who he should contact. That wasn’t going to be a fun conversation.

  The paperwork was going to be a bugger to fill out as well. Stone was still associated with Deirdre so his name was bound to raise red flags in the system. And Tina being a witch meant cross species referencing. It would be just his luck that the Universal Coven would launch an inquiry. While the Coven and Lycan Link legally acknowledged each other on paper, it was more a theoretical concept than an actual feeling of respect.

  Yeah, things were going to get messy and it was anyone’s guess who the shit would stick to the most; Stone, himself, Fielding or High Councillor Duffy. Most likely gravity would take over and the lower on the command chain you were, the more trouble you’d be in.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. Perhaps it was time to give up working for Lycan Link. Permanently settle in Kolding’s Pass, start a family. Brandi and he hadn’t really had that discussion yet. Maybe when this case was done.

  With a sigh, he headed back to his hotel room. Paperwork or phone calls? Both jobs were going to suck.

  Gwyneth sat in her office, located at the back of Club Mystique. She was trying to work her way through the monthly finances without using witchcraft and it was putting her in a bad mood. A simple spell would balance the books, but it would throw off someone else’s bank account and that hardly seemed fair unless it belonged to some miserly millionaire. Unfortunately, at this moment, she didn’t know of anyone deserving of a financial whammy and she didn’t want to take the time to go looking for one either.

  Witchcraft wasn’t as simple as some believed; the energy of the world was finite. If you manipulated matter in one place, it had repercussions elsewhere. Not every witch took that into consideration, of course. Some liked to throw magic around as if it were some toy with no more effect than a child blowing bubbles on a spring day. However, she’d been around long enough to know that wasn’t the case.

  And so she sat at her desk, frowning at the spreadsheet on the computer. When the phone rang she was both pleased for a reason to abandon the task and perturbed that her concentration had been broken.

  “Hello?”

  “Gwyneth O’Donohue?”

  “Speaking.”

  “This is Reno Smith. I’m with Lycan Link.”

  She scowled, anticipating a problem. “There’s been no issue at the club with Lycans. If someone has filed a complaint—“

  “No. That’s not why I’m calling.”
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  “Then?” She leaned back in her chair. Reno Smith. The name was vaguely familiar.

  “It’s about Tina. I believe she’s a relative of yours?”

  “She is, but she’s of legal age. If she’s found herself on the wrong side of one of your laws, I’ll not be responsible for her. If you play with dogs and wake up with fleas, you pay for your own flea collar.”

  Smith didn’t immediately respond.

  Gwyneth wasn’t concerned. She was well beyond caring whom she might offend. “So, what’s the problem? I’m busy.”

  “I’m sorry. There’s no easy way to say this. I regret to inform you that we believe Tina is dead.”

  For a moment the news kept her in stunned silence as if cold water had been poured over her, stealing her breath. Then her brain kicked in again, questions ticking off faster than she could articulate them. “What do you mean, Tina is dead? Who told you this? What proof do you have?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but to the best of our knowledge she perished in the jungle in Cantala.”

  “Utter nonsense. She was in Mercosta on vacation with friends from school. You must have her confused with someone else.”

  “I wish that were the case. She was with Elijah Stone—”

  “Stone? He’s the one that sat at my bar drinking water every night. I never earned a penny off him.”

  “Er…yes. Stone was at the club which is where I believe he met Tina.”

  Gwyneth frowned recalling the vision she’d had of a witch and a wolf. She’d put it from her mind, the only proper course of action for a vision, of course. They were nebulous annoyances for the most part.

  “Apparently they met again in Mercosta and she agreed to accompany him on a mission into Cantala.”

  “What kind of a mission?”

  “I’m not at liberty to reveal the details. Suffice to say she was shot by a member of a drug cartel and didn’t make it onto the rescue helicopter.”

  Gwyneth narrowed her eyes. “Why didn’t she make it? I noticed you haven’t mentioned she died from the wound.”

  “No, ma’am. The wound wasn’t initially fatal, however, by the time they reached the rendezvous site, she was seriously ill and couldn’t make it onto the chopper.”

  “And this Stone didn’t think to help her?”

  “At her insistence, he was helping others in the group. Due to extreme danger to the rest of the team, the chopper left before she was inside.”

  Gwyneth sat silently taking all the information in.

  “I’m sorry.” Reno cleared his throat. “I only met her a few times but she seemed to be an interesting individual.”

  “Yes. Interesting.” She frowned, one finger idly tapping the desk as she thought. “You say Stone was with her?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And where is he now? Can I speak with him?”

  “He’s in a private hospital in Santa Marietta. This wasn’t his fault though. He did everything he could.”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” She waved her hand dismissively. “You didn’t answer my question. May I speak with him?”

  “I’ll put your request to him and see what he says.”

  Gwyneth lowered her voice to barely above a whisper and spoke slowly and distinctly. “I don’t appreciate the tap dancing you’re doing, Mr. Smith. Tell Stone if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll contact me or I’ll hex him from here to eternity.” She hung up before the other man could reply.

  Venomous toads, what had Tina been mixed up in? Why couldn’t she have been content to study the craft like a good little witchling? Gwyneth stood up and paced the room, not trying to control her bad mood. Her eyes began to turn purple as magical energy spewed from her. Outside, the sky darkened as an inexplicable storm suddenly began to brew over the city.

  Stone stirred restlessly in the bed. In his dreams he was in a helicopter, hovering over a field. Christina was below, she needed him. He could even hear her voice, filled with fear and pain. She was calling to him, begging him to save her, to keep her safe.

  The sound tore at his heart. He struggled to go to her, but something was holding him back, keeping him frozen in place while a horrific scene played out before him. Members of the drug cartel were swarming the field, surrounding Christina, kicking her, laughing. Lewd comments reached his ears and he shook with rage. His vision blurred, adrenaline surged through him.

  “I’m coming, Christina. Hold on.” With a roar, he broke free, leaping from the chopper, transforming into his wolf.

  Yet by the time he hit the ground, no one was there.

  Silence surrounded him.

  The chopper was gone and so had Mendoza’s men. There were no birds singing, no drone of insects. The grass beneath him was trampled flat, while the fruit on the trees appeared withered. He turned in a slow circle taking in the lifeless scene. A splash of red caught his attention and he stepped closer, lowering his muzzle to sniff. It was blood, Christina’s blood, a twisting trail leading into the jungle.

  Nose to the ground he began to follow it only to find himself ankle deep in sand and sinking deeper with each step. He couldn’t allow it to stop him though. He forged ahead, but then Adisa blocked his way. “Is it for the good of all, Elijah?”

  “She needs me,” he explained.

  Adisa arched a brow. “Does she need you or do you need her?”

  He shook his head. This wasn’t the time for word games. Christina was calling to him, her voice filled with fear. He looked beyond Adisa. A soldier had Christina pinned to the ground...

  “No!” He jerked upright and stared wide-eyed about the room, for a moment unsure where he was. Reality slowly returned.

  White walls.

  The hospital.

  His heart rate began to slow as did his breathing. He was still shaking, drenched in sweat, the covers twisted around his body so that he could barely move. His hands responded sluggishly to his command to free himself and once the sheets were out of the way, he swung his legs out of bed.

  The tile floor was cold against his bare feet yet it was reassuringly solid and real, the chill chasing away the ghosts that plagued his dreams.

  He made his way to the window and parted the curtains. It was light out, maybe mid-morning. After Reno had left yesterday, he’d stared dry-eyed at the ceiling for hours before resorting to taking the sleeping pill that had been left for him. He’d thought sleep would give him some peace, help block the scene that kept replaying in his head, muffle the sound of Christina’s voice.

  Yet, every time he closed his eyes, he saw her looking up at him with her trusting eyes. ‘I’ll come back for you,’ he had said and she’d replied, ‘I know you will.’

  It had been a lie. He hadn’t gone back. He’d left her behind, either to the mercy of Mendoza’s men or to die alone in the jungle from a deadly infection. Pressing his forehead against the glass, he tried not to think of the fate she’d suffered, but it was impossible to hold back the images that raced through his mind.

  Suddenly, he couldn’t bear to be alone in the room. He needed to go somewhere, see something, talk to somebody, anything that would occupy his mind for a few minutes. Looking around, he found the standard hospital-issue robe on a hook by the door and pulled it on, then walked out into the hallway. There was no guard posted to keep him inside. Why he’d thought there’d be one, he didn’t know, but he’d take advantage of the situation.

  Left or right? It didn’t really matter; he just had to get away. He chose to go left.

  Walking down the hallway, other patients and staff barely glanced his way. His was just another anonymous face in the busy medical facility. Another hallway, right this time, then a left. Stone kept walking with no destination, just the need to keep moving.

  Unexpectedly, he found himself outside a door labelled Pediatrics. Reno had said the pups were there. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the door handle before pushing the heavy door open.

  This time as he walked, he took note of his surround
ings. Doors in bright primary colours, the walls decorated with cartoon figures, even the staff wore uniforms made of cheerful printed fabrics.

  As he moved down the corridor, he noted children in robes sitting with their parents. Some were reading books, others were playing games. A few were just being rocked while words of comfort were whispered in their ears.

  Near the end of the hallway was an open area, perhaps a playroom? Stone wasn’t familiar with how the children’s wing of a hospital was set up, but it seemed a logical conclusion. The area was quiet and empty except for two children who were sitting silently, staring down at the carpet. A TV was playing in the background and several toys were around them, but they didn’t seem to notice.

  Stone paused just outside the door. It was the pups, looking considerably cleaner than last time he had seen them. He swallowed hard. At least they were okay. Christina hadn’t given her life for nothing.

  “Come to check on your little friends?” Reno’s voice sounded by Stone’s ear, startling him.

  “Oh, yeah, I guess.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his robe. “I was just getting some exercise and ended up in Pediatrics so I thought I’d see how they’re doing.”

  “I’ve just been talking to the nurses. Arrangements have been made for them to fly back to the States tomorrow. They’ve been given a medical clean bill of health. Psychologically, the picture isn’t as clear. Once they’re back in a pack, hopefully they’ll start to communicate again.”

  “Reno, they might have seen their parents murdered. They’ve been handed off from stranger to stranger, a new face every day. What the hell do you expect?” He paused and took a deep breath. There was no point in getting angry at Reno. This debacle wasn’t his fault. “Sorry.”

  “No problem. I know they’ve had a rough go of it and...” Reno didn’t finish his statement.

  Stone followed the direction of his gaze. The children were standing beside him, the youngest, the girl, Lily, leaning against his leg.