"You killed Dr. Davidoff, Chloe. You used me to do it. I'm sure you're telling yourself you didn't, that I fired the gun and you had nothing to do with that. A terrible misunderstanding."
No, I'd told her to do it. I knew that. I accepted responsibility.
But did I completely believe it? Or was there part of me that wanted to pretend it was a misunderstanding? It wasn't. Seeing Diane Enright again, I knew that. What she'd just done to Tori reminded me of everything else she'd done to Tori and threatened to do to Derek and Aunt Lauren, and in that moment, I was back in the laboratory hall, feeling what I'd felt then. Clarity. Resolution.
"No, it wasn't a misunderstanding," I said. "I told you to shoot him. You were a zombie. You had to obey me."
The look she gave me then was even more chilling, because there was no anger in it. She was studying me, appraisingly, as if murdering someone was a sign of character.
"You want revenge," I said. "You were following me on the other side of the veil, so I couldn't see you. When Tori fell, you lured me away. You left your daughter to die. Then you tried to kill me."
"Please, Chloe, I know you love movies, but drama doesn't suit you. Victoria wasn't in mortal danger and neither were you. It was simply . . ." She pursed her lips. "A lesson. A small show of what I can do, if I wish."
"Again, what do you want?"
"Nothing. Yet." She stepped forward and I resisted the urge to back up. "I merely wish you to remain open to the possibility that we can help one another. I find you interesting, Chloe. You know that."
"No, you find me useful, especially now, when your options are so limited that you're willing to work with your killer." I looked up at her. "You told me before that we could help each other. That I was stronger than your daughter."
"You are."
"No, I'm not. It was never about who was smarter or stronger. It was about who you could control. You couldn't control Tori. You thought you could control me. You still think you can. That's what this was about. Show me what you can do--leave Tori alone and hurt, lead me into another hole, where I can lie, alone and hurt, until I'm rescued. Then I'll do whatever you say. Only I won't."
I imagined giving her a mental shove. She staggered back.
"Don't you dare, Chloe Saunders. If you banish me--"
"You'll come back. I'm sure you will. But you won't trick me again, and by then, I'll have learned a way to get rid of you for good." I stepped forward, right under her nose. "I'm not sorry you're dead. I just feel sorry for myself because I had to do it. But if I didn't, someone else would have had to, and that would only put the guilt on them. So I'm going to stop thinking of all the other ways we could have stopped you, because there weren't any. And when I find a way to banish you for good, I won't worry about where you might go. Once again, I'm just going to stop you."
I closed my eyes and gave her a huge mental slam. She let out a howl of rage, cut short as she was knocked into another dimension. When I opened my eyes, she was gone.
I let out a shuddering sigh. Then arms went around me, solid and warm, and I leaned against Derek.
"She's gone," I whispered. "For a little while."
"I know." He kissed the top of my head.
I let myself enjoy the embrace for a moment, then remembered and pulled away. "Tori."
"Your aunt and my dad are here. They came in the front. Tori might have a broken ankle and a concussion, but she's okay." He reached down, hand going under my chin. "I know how hard that was for you, confronting Tori's mom."
He bent, lips coming to mine and--
"Derek? Chloe?" It was Kit, opening the back door.
Derek let out a low growl.
"Never fails." I turned to Kit. "How is she?"
"We're going to take her back to the house now. She's unconscious again."
"Then we'll walk back," Derek said. "Give you room in the van to lay her down."
His dad agreed and went back inside. As we walked toward the steps, I looked down at Derek's hand, holding mine.
"No one's around," he said. "And we can take the back way."
"Good," I said, and entwined my fingers with his.
BELONGING
Prologue
As Brad watched the three Cains devour their porterhouse steaks, he realized he should have added a couple hundred bucks to the price of his information, just to cover dinner. They were at a steakhouse in Dallas. The June heat meant they had the patio to themselves, which was good for privacy, but it also meant the Cains were on their second pitcher of beer--and only two of them were old enough to drink. Seventeen-year-old Carter had already gone through a pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade and looked ready for a second.
Brad was waiting until they'd eaten a little more before presenting his offer. It was never wise to interfere with a werewolf and his meal, and that went double for Cains. Brad was a werewolf himself, but at five-foot-seven and a hundred and fifty pounds, even the youngest Cain dwarfed him. The older two could eat him for dinner and then go looking for dessert.
It was Carter who slowed first. He was small for a Cain, barely over six feet tall, maybe two hundred pounds. Good-looking enough that the young server had been eying him. Must take after his mother--the Cains weren't known for their looks. Or for their brains. In this regard, Carter was definitely part of the family.
"You said you've got information on some kid of Uncle Zack's. But this here"--he pointed at the scrap of paper--"says the guy's last name is Souza, not Cain."
"He wasn't raised as a Cain," said the boy's grandfather, Theo. "That's why Brad here is offering to help us get him back."
Theo was the clan patriarch. Also the brightest of the bunch, which wasn't saying a lot, but it helped. Carter was the son of Theo's youngest. The thirty-something guy between them was Nate, the son of Theo's oldest. Zachary had been his middle child. Dead ten years now, when he got the damned fool idea to join an uprising against the Pack. Zack's only known son had been killed by a rival werewolf a few years ago. The old man had taken that hard. Now Brad was offering him a replacement . . . with bonuses.
"You say the boy was part of an experiment?" Theo said as he finished his steak. "Making him into some kind of super-werewolf?"
"Exactly. The St. Cloud Cabal was running a secret experiment to genetically modify supernaturals in vitro, eliminating side-effects and enhancing the powers of sorcerers, witches, necromancers, half-demons . . ." Three pairs of eyes glazed over. Brad wasn't sure if they didn't understand or if they just didn't care. Both were equally likely. Most werewolves took no interest in either Cabals or other supernatural types. It was only when he added, "And, of course, werewolves," that the Cains perked up again.
"How many of these super-werewolves are there?" Theo asked.
"Your grandson is the only subject left."
"Were the others Zack's boys?" Theo asked.
"I don't know. I was hired to track four escaped subjects and bring them back to the study. They only told me the absolute basics."
"I don't get it," Carter said. "If you're giving all the kids back to the scientists, how do we get Uncle Zack's boy?"
"Brad isn't returning them all," Theo said. "He's giving us the opportunity to take Zack's boy first."
"Oh."
Carter still sounded confused. To be honest, Brad didn't blame him. It was confusing and it raised lots of questions, but Brad had known better than to ask them of his employers. As far as most supernaturals were concerned, the Cains were merely representative of the entire breed--dumb brutes who couldn't walk and chew gum at the same time. Sometimes it was better not to disabuse them of that notion.
Brad was just glad Theo didn't ask exactly what modifications they'd done to the boy. He didn't know--it hadn't seemed wise to take too much interest. Theo, though, seemed happy with "super-werewolf."
"Are you sure he'll Change?" Theo said. "That tinkering might have screwed him up. Nothing worse than a werewolf that can't Change. Happened to a cousin of mine. Ripped him righ
t apart."
"He's already Changing."
"At sixteen?" Theo looked impressed.
Carter scowled. Obviously he hadn't started shifting into a wolf yet. Sixteen wasn't unheard of, but it was early.
"He's smart, too," Brad said. "Genius smart. Taking college math already."
"That's just book smart," Carter said. "Don't mean nothing."
Only it did, and judging by Theo's expression, he knew it. His clan had muscle and they had numbers. All they needed was brains. If this kid had that--in addition to other enhancements--he could be just the ticket to make the Cains serious contenders to the Pack.
"Are you sure he's Zack's boy? I can't see my son getting mixed up in some mad science experiment."
"He didn't realize he was. He was seduced by a subject and seems to have died without realizing he'd fathered another son."
"So are we sure he's Zack's, then?" By Carter's tone, he really hoped the answer was no.
Brad laid a photo on the table. "This was taken a few months ago."
Like Theo and Nate, the boy in the picture was dark-haired with green eyes. And he was big--over six feet already, with shoulders almost as broad as the doorway behind him. His hair was shaggy, hanging in his face, which wasn't such a bad thing, considering the state of his skin. If all that didn't confirm he was a Cain, the scowl did--a perfect match for the one on Carter's face.
"Uncle Zack had light hair," Carter said. "I've seen photos."
"He took after his mother," Theo said. "The boy is Zack's. He has his eyes." The old man's voice softened as he picked up the picture.
"You can keep that," Brad said. "I also have some newer ones from my surveillance." He laid those out. "I couldn't get close enough for a good shot, even with a telephoto lens, but he's had his hair cut and his skin is clearing, probably as his hormones settle after his Change. Still, he's easy to spot."
"So you know where he is? And you can guarantee he'll still be there when we arrive?"
"If he isn't, I'll track him again. But he's been living in this rented house for two months with his foster father, three other subjects and one of the doctors from the experiment."
Brad eased back and let them look at the photos. "So, all that's needed is a yes and a cash payment. I'll give you the address right away. Plus a sure-fire way to catch him."
"He's sixteen," Nate said. "We can catch him."
"Don't be so sure. He's smart and he's a good fighter. You know a werewolf named Liam? Runs with a guy named Ramon?"
"Heard of them," Theo said.
"Some folks hired them to track down your grandson. That's why the St. Clouds hired me--they knew Liam and Ramon managed it, so they figured another werewolf could do the same. And they can't hire Liam again . . . because he's dead. Your boy killed him. His first challenge and he took down an experienced werewolf and made another one decide he didn't want the job anymore."
Theo practically beamed. Too bad Brad already set the price. He probably could have doubled it.
"But you know a way to catch him?" Nate said.
"I do."
Brad slapped another photo on the table. A smiling teenage girl with blue eyes and blond hair streaked with red.
"Cute," Carter grunted. "Let me guess--this guy has a crush on her."
"More than just a crush. She's his girlfriend."
They looked surprised. The girl definitely did not seem like a romantic match for the scowling brute in the other photos. But Brad had done enough surveillance to be sure of his facts.
"She's another subject, one who escaped with your grandson and his foster brother. She's a necromancer."
Carter's face screwed up. "A what?"
"Someone who can speak to the dead," Theo said. "Like the Alpha's girlfriend. The one on TV."
"She's hot," Nate said.
"Little young for you," Carter said, still eying the photo.
"I meant the one on TV," Nate said. "So the kid's got it bad for this girl?"
"He does, and he already has a werewolf's protective instinct. In spades. He's the same way with his foster brother, which would be the backup plan, but the brother is a sorcerer and knows self-defense. A necromancer has no defensive powers and this one's a tiny thing. She's his weakness. That's how Liam and Ramon got close enough to fight him. They made a tactical mistake, though. They settled for teasing and threatening her, which only pissed the boy off enough to fight. If you want him, take her. He'll come running."
The Cains paid. Didn't haggle over the price, either. They even covered dinner. As Brad watched them struggling to calculate the tip, he felt a little sorry for Derek Souza. Being handed over to the Cains wasn't a fate he'd wish on anyone, especially a bright kid like that. But business was business, and family was family. A werewolf belonged with his kin, whoever they were.
One
I swiped aside threads of spider silk as I tramped along the wooded path. I hadn't come this way in a few days and the spiders worked fast, zigzagging webs between the trees, as if that might stop me. It doesn't. As long as we're renting a house on the edge of this forest, I'll be in here every day, scouting.
We're on the run and this strip of woods is the perfect place for someone to lie in wait for us. It's my fault we need to stay so close to the forest in the first place--I can't control my Changes to wolf form yet, meaning I can't just ask Dad to give me a lift to the nearest patch of wilderness. If I'm responsible for us living near the forest, then I figure I'm responsible for keeping it safe.
Behind me, Simon slapped his neck. "Damn mosquitos. I swear, they're as big as hummingbirds out here."
"Go back inside then."
"It was an observation, Derek, not a complaint." The path widened enough for him to walk beside me. "Besides, Lauren's on a cleaning spree. If I go back, she'll make me help."
"Wouldn't kill you to pitch in."
"I'm going to tell myself that you're just cranky because Chloe's at the mall with Tori, and you weren't allowed to go. I could point out that if you did go, you'd be even crankier, and you'd make everyone miserable. Especially me."
"You wouldn't have to go."
"Sure I would. I'd need to run interference when Tori asked how a new shirt looked and you told her the truth."
"I'm honest. Honest is good."
"Not when it comes to girls and clothes. You need to gauge their reaction first. If they aren't happy with it, you suggest they try something else, even if it looked fine. If they love it and it looks like hell, you say it's not bad and hope they try something else."
"Why do you have to make everything so complicated?"
"Because it is complicated."
I snorted and let a branch fling back at him. He was right, though--at least about the mall thing. I kept finding myself heading in that direction, as if I could just happen to extend my patrol to the mall. Then Simon and I could meet up with Chloe. For burgers or something. As long as we were there already. Accidentally.
It wasn't that I resented her spending time with a friend. Even if I didn't consider Tori a real friend. I just got anxious, knowing Chloe was there without me. Defenseless. Except she wasn't defenseless. She could look after herself, as she'd proven again and again, and every time I gave her hell for taking a few steps off the property, she gave me hell back. I knew she was right. Hovering over her was a very bad idea. Following her to the mall? Borderline stalking.
So why was I even thinking of going? Because I couldn't help it. Even if we hadn't seen anyone from the St. Clouds in months, they could hunt her down at any moment, and if I wasn't there to save her . . . Well, if I wasn't there, she'd probably save herself. Even if I was there, I wasn't much protection against their tranq guns. But while my brain could work it out logically, my gut told me I needed to be with her, to watch over her, to take care of her.
"So," Simon said as we stepped over a stream. "Have you come up with a gift idea for your three-month anniversary?"
"Three months?"
"Sure, it's comi
ng up on--"
"I know when it is."
That was a lie. I knew the date when Chloe first kissed me. Hell, I knew the hour. But is that what you use to mark the start of a relationship? Or was it our second kiss, when we knew we were really starting something. Or was it our first actual date, a week later. Which one did she consider the right one? That was the important thing. I wanted to ask, but it seemed like I should know.
I bent to check a footprint. The neighbor walking his dog. I straightened. "What I mean is, why is three months important? Why not one month?"
"Because you missed the one-month anniversary."
I scowled at him. "I didn't miss it. You're the one who mentioned it when it was already too late, and Chloe never said anything."
"She wouldn't. It's up to you to remember and since you missed one month, and one week, too--"
"One week? We're supposed to celebrate--?"
"You celebrate everything. That's the rule."
Rules. I hated them. Well, no. In general, I was good with rules. I understood them and they made life easier. But with dating, there's no book to study. No pattern to follow. It's just an endless minefield of places to screw up. At least it is according to Simon. Which may explain why he's never even gotten to three months with a girl.
"But I've gotten close a lot of times," he said when I pointed this out.
"I don't think that counts."
"I could have gotten to three months if I wanted. I didn't want to. You do. And I'm guessing you want to make it to six months?"
"Course." I paused. "So that's the next milestone? We skip four and five?"
"Yes. You can't celebrate too many anniversaries or you seem clingy. Remember Brandi in ninth grade? She expected me to remember the anniversary of the minute I asked her out--every single day. Sulked if I forgot. We didn't even make it to two weeks."
A scent wafted past. I paused to catch it. Just a deer. "Okay, so on anniversaries, I need to give her something. An incentive."
Simon almost walked into a tree. "What?"
"An incentive. Like in third grade, when Mrs. Nestor gave me a cookie every day that I didn't read during class and promised me a candy bar if I didn't read all week."
"You never got that candy bar."
"Because it wasn't worth listening to her yammer about stuff I already knew. But this anniversary gift thing is like that, right? An incentive for Chloe to keep going out with me."