Destiny and Deception

  I caught my breath, the fur on my shoulders prickling my flesh as it stood.

  What if she just stepped over? Leaped off? Ended everything? Would anyone wonder—would anyone mourn her loss?

  The only way to find out was if she did it.…

  Against the cutting wind I lowered my ears and narrowed my eyes, unable to look away, my heart racing. Do it, my heart repeated with its rhythm, do it, do it …

  But she sighed and stretched back, pulling against the rail and lengthening her cooling muscles before they cramped up.

  Shit. Not even impending death was easy. Couldn’t people just commit to action anymore?

  “Hey.”

  I focused on the word that slipped along on the breeze—deceptively casual.

  The girl hopped, her head snapping to the side to see who else would have come out in such nasty weather. Squinting against the wind that threatened to pull tears from the corners of my eyes, we saw him at the same moment—leaning against the bridge’s rail as if he’d stood there the entire time. Watching and waiting to step in. To come to the rescue.

  Big as a wall, the only softness about him was his mop of midnight hair—slightly tousled curls the wind dragged its fingers through teasingly. The shadows chopped him into a series of hard lines and sharp angles, making him look every bit the description of a man who took no prisoners.

  The air wheezed through me, and I forced myself to breathe normally again. He was no Gareth, but he wasn’t hard to look at, either.

  “Hey,” the girl echoed weakly. “What are you doing out in this?” She turned back to the wind, letting it tear the words from her lips.

  He moved closer. Perhaps better to hear her?

  But the wind caught their scent and pulled it past my cold-stung nose and my interest in the pair ratcheted up.

  There was a werewolf on that bridge.

  I changed my position to get a better look.

  The girl was flexible and her movements were fluid, but the guy … the way the shadows clung to him and the way his eyes let anyone watching know he wished the girl would do the same …

  He was one of us.

  He ignored her question, letting his gaze rake over her body, taking in her runner’s outfit and the fact that she frequently shifted her weight from foot to foot to ward off the creeping chill.

  “Let me take you home,” he said, the request as solemn as the expression Gareth normally wore. Regardless of the fact there was no r in any word he uttered, I recognized the faintest growl in the sentence.

  Yes, he was most definitely one of ours. The one I’d smelled by the pool hall.

  And the fact one was so close but blocked by the presence of a simple human girl … It made me tremble more than any slap of cold air could.

  “Let me take you home,” he repeated.

  “How many girls have you said that to?” she asked.

  He blinked. Stunned? His lips curled into a slow smile, and he shrugged—such a simple move of his broad shoulders … Dimples hiding at the edge of his mouth appeared, deep and dangerous. He tilted his head to the side, watching her, his eyes glowing just beneath the shadow cast by his curls. For a wolf he could appear very sheepish—just a boy. The next words were carefully measured for effect, his eyes never leaving her own as he delivered the truth. “Enough as of now.” He shrugged. “And this last one? She deserves a repeat of my request.”

  “So have you kept count, or do they blur together?” she snapped. But I doubted she was angry at him specifically—more likely angry at the world, or at least at one of the world’s inhabitants that had recently hurt her badly.

  “Math’s not my strong suit,” he responded, the dimples smoothing out, the smile sliding away. His arms crossed and his stance widened, impervious to the wind and the venom she spewed.

  He would make an excellent addition to the pack—bold and powerful and quick on his feet.

  And the girl? She was gutsy but not so impervious—at least not to the cold. “Fine.” She ground out the word from between clenched teeth. “Take me home, Max.”

  Max. That I could remember.

  With a move that surprised her so much she squeaked, he swept her up and over his broad back, resting a hand on her ass.

  I nearly changed just to laugh at them in my human skin.

  “What the—?” she yelled and struggled, reduced to nothing but a sack of potatoes slung over his shoulder.

  “You didn’t say how I should take you home. So I improvised.” There was no apology in his tone, perhaps a streak of arrogance instead.

  I liked this one.

  And the girl did the oddest thing: She laughed.

  As a chuckle built in his gut at her response, they walked away. I slunk along the shadowed edge of the bridge’s wall and watched them fall into a waiting car. And that was when I took my chance and raced into its shadow, following them for as long as my legs held beneath me.

  I dashed after the sleek red convertible, feet quick and sure on the road, still wet with salt and grit from combating the most recent snowfall. We went through the circles of white light the streetlights stained the ground with and for a while I kept up easily.

  He was cautious with the girl in the car—something I hadn’t expected.

  He used his turn signals even though there was no traffic behind him. He slowed down well in advance of any turns. And, if my guess was right, he never pushed beyond the speed limit. It was strange at best and—unnatural at the worst. Our kind was bold—verging on reckless.… Was it odd I expected that of our breed, that I thought a werewolf driving a sexy car would speed and only pause briefly at stop signs without committing to a full stop—unless it was to benefit from stopping short?

  We pushed from the edge of the town through its brick-walled and concrete-sidewalked heart—shop lights still glowing in display windows though signs on the doors clearly read CLOSED. The streets rolled themselves up early in Junction.

  Maybe it was like the time I spent in Catholic school—the lack of opportunities led to rebellion and wilder choices. Maybe the town shut down early, but somewhere kids roamed free or partied beyond the prying eyes of parents at well-hidden raves.

  A girl could hope.…

  But something stopped me beyond the fact that a werewolf and—his girlfriend?—had just parked the car behind the ugliest four-door imaginable to head into a well-appointed house in the suburbs. There was something odd here. I ran my snout along the ground and then pushed it into the air, searching the breeze. There was a scent that was off somehow. Like the sickly sweet scent of disease …

  Something was wrong here—someone was wrong here.…

  I crept closer to the house, slinking along the shadows until I nestled in the darkness at the base of the porch.

  The door flew open, and a man dashed out with a flashlight. That was all I needed to end my voyeurism. I had found the place once.

  I’d most certainly be back.

  Alexi

  I blasted the flashlight’s beam in Max’s face, prepared to scold them about some imaginary curfew, but something caught my eye instead. “What was…?” I ushered Amy and Max inside, closing the door as my eyes fought to focus on a smudge of darkness zipping across the lawn. My light was too slow to catch it, and Max set Amy down inside to step back onto the porch. I would have sworn I saw his nostrils flare, but that made no sense.

  If he was simply human.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jessie

  If you say something often enough, you might eventually believe it. Maybe that was part of why I said “I love you” to Pietr so frequently now that he’d changed—now that he was far more human than animal. Maybe I needed to hear it so I could better believe it. Standing there, in his doorway, watching him study, seeing him so far from the impulsive and powerful hero he’d once been, made me pause.

  The final stanza from T. S. Eliot’s The Hollow Men came back to me, and I wondered if maybe it was the same way love ended … not with a bang, but
a whimper.

  Why didn’t my heart race anymore whenever I was around him? Why didn’t he make my breath catch? He was still just as handsome—chiseled features and high cheekbones, a strong jaw and dramatic eyebrows framing beautiful blue eyes.… Although I could recite the things that made him beautiful, and they were still present, there was something missing.

  The same something that used to make me so hot for him.

  The spark.

  I’d wanted normal and now I had it, in all its calm, understated glory.

  Quiet. Normalcy. Time filled with movie nights and board games, Dungeons & Dragons and double dating—like normal people did.

  Well, maybe not so much the Dungeons & Dragons.…

  And as much as I craved normalcy when I feared for my life and struggled for answers, now … I missed the fighting, the outright passion that was part love and part lust, peppered with the thrill that came from danger.

  It was petty. I got what I said I wanted and so much more. In so many ways, Pietr was great. Verging on perfect. He always returned my calls promptly. He wrote me cute notes and sent me funny texts and occasionally surprised me with flowers. He never tried to cop a feel. He’d become exactly what every girl hoped for: a handsome, smart, sensitive, and giving boyfriend.

  He was absolutely dependable.

  Dad loved him.

  And it was killing me.

  I was so bored. Part of me itched for trouble, hungered for action—for something exciting to happen in Junction once more. For my life to be more than the wrapping up of loose ends in what felt like the fourth book in some roller coaster of a paranormal novel series.

  I sighed—a soft sound that just a month ago he would have heard even across the room.

  But now he didn’t.

  So he didn’t realize when I’d gone, either.

  Or that I’d ever been there, watching and hoping to feel something reignite.

  Marlaena

  “Watch—there and there.” I pointed out the cameras posted high on the store’s walls. In the darkness at the edge of the Supercenter’s parking lot a few of us huddled together and watched a couple cars leaving.

  The place was nearly dead.

  Gabriel sauntered up, snapping the gum he chewed. “Blind spot. There,” he said, grabbing my hand to adjust where my finger pointed.

  “Jackass. Here,” I countered, yanking my hand away and pounding a fist into his chest.

  He grinned, blew a bubble, and cracked it in my face.

  I hauled back my fist and felt my lips pull away from my teeth. “I swear to—”

  But Gareth’s hand wrapped around mine. “We’ve had this chat,” he whispered in my ear, and my bones dissolved at his proximity. “You believe in nearly nothing, so who can you swear to?”

  “Sons of bitches…,” I seethed, pulling away from them both and fighting to catch my breath.

  Gabe laughed so hard he nearly choked on his gum. “You’re probably right with that assessment.” He grinned. “We’re sons of something, must be a bitch in there somewhere.”

  Gareth shook his head. “So we’ve established a blind spot.…”

  “And a desperate need for money,” Kyanne added, looking at Gareth. “Everyone’s hungry.”

  “We could do another liquor store…,” Gabe said with a yawn. “Worked well for us before.…”

  “No. There’s drawing attention to ourselves and there’s drawing attention to ourselves.”

  “Says the hot redhead pyromaniac,” Gabe teased.

  Gareth put a hand on Gabe’s chest and my shoulder just as I lunged for him. “Stop. Focus on our goal. Feed the pups.”

  “Arrgh!” I growled, hopping in frustration. “Fine. You, you though,” I said, thrusting a finger in Gabe’s face, “need to stay off my back.”

  He raised an eyebrow and grinned at me. “I haven’t been on your back. Yet. But I look forward to the opportunity—”

  I hit him so hard a tooth flew out of his mouth. “Remember your place, dog,” I demanded. “You’re under me.”

  “I can do it that way, too,” he assured, rubbing his jaw.

  I rushed him, took him to the ground, and hit him again and again until Gareth and Kyanne got a good enough grip on me to pull me off.

  The whole time Gabe kept laughing. Laughing and bleeding.

  I wiped the blood coating my hands onto my jeans and faced the row of vending machines. I thrust my open hand out. “Crowbar.” Feeling the cold weight of it in my palm was reassuring. “Kyanne.”

  “Ready,” she said, holding a crowbar to match my own.

  Behind us I heard Gabe sit up. “Don’t forget that blind spot!” he called as we jogged across the parking lot. I nearly turned back to hit him again, but I gritted my teeth and thought about the hunger rumbling in all our guts and sped up, eyes on the cameras and the damn blind spot he’d identified.

  “What’d ya do without me?” Gabe chuckled in the dark.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Alexi

  The newspaper again confirmed my suspicion. A new situation had arisen over night—nothing major, just the vandalization of a bank of vending machines lining the east wall of the Supercenter.

  Someone was getting desperate if they were knocking over vending machines to get spare bills and change. A situation of such desperation and foolhardiness could certainly escalate.…

  Why could things not be normal around Junction?

  I thought I might once like to sip my coffee in peace and read about simple things like drunken college students ruining their chances at a decent job by mooning city officials at a dinner party. A little mindless and reckless stupidity—something that did not link to anything else, did not make my brain sputter guessing how it might all interrelate—that was what I wanted.

  But I had to live in small-town America, where everyone thought they knew everything about everyone and nothing was further from the truth.

  Jessie

  “Hey, look out. New kids,” Amy said, directing Sophie and me with a dart of her eyes.

  I bit my lip, recognizing the guy with the fox-like features and short red hair. The thief from the Grabbit Mart. The two girls who accompanied him were blond and nearly identical, right down to the way they wore their long hair—which was almost exactly the same length.

  We were far from the only ones watching them—it seemed everyone had turned to see where Junction High’s newest additions went. That didn’t normally happen.…

  So I studied them more intently. They looked rough, with worn jeans—and not in the factory-created way—and bad-fitting hoodies. Like they’d gotten some harshly used hand-me-downs and were still waiting for them to fit.

  I reminded myself I wasn’t judging them based on their clothes, I was judging them based on his actions. “I don’t like new kids,” I muttered.

  Amy choked. “Yee-ahhh. That’s why you went ga-ga over Pietr.”

  “Just trust me. We don’t want to get mixed up with that guy.”

  “There’s a story here.…” Amy leaned in.

  “Isn’t that how it should be for reporters?” Sophie asked with a wink.

  I looked down; “Not now…” Too late. “Oh. Hey.”

  “Hey,” the redhead said, pausing with his entourage by our table. “I remember you.”

  “Great.”

  “But I don’t think I got your name last time.”

  “I didn’t give it.”

  “Burned,” one of the blondes said.

  The redhead’s face started to match his hair.

  Amy stood up, though, and reached out a hand. “I’m Amy,” she said. With narrowed eyes she watched the way he took her hand, shook it, and then straightened back up.

  And in that moment I saw it, too. The fox-like features weren’t fox at all. He moved like something far more powerful. Something we were all familiar with.

  Wolf.

  “Amy,” he said. “You must be the polite one in the group.”

  “If Amy’s
the polite one, then we must all have slipped into an alternate reality. Or it’s Opposite Day.”

  Sarah.

  Amy turned the hand she’d just shaken to expose one particular finger for Sarah’s close inspection.

  “Cuh-lassy,” Sarah responded before offering her own hand to the guy. “Sarah Luxom. And you are?”

  “Gabriel.”

  “How angelic,” Sarah said, setting her tray down at our table. The twins leaned toward each other, cupping their hands around their mouths and whispering. Before Sarah’d gone psycho on us, it would have been nearly acceptable for her to join us at lunch. But now Amy just pushed her tray back and mouthed: No.

  Sarah shrugged and picked the tray back up.

  “Very nice to meet you, Sarah,” Gabriel replied.

  “You say that now…,” Amy murmured, sitting back down.

  “And you, Amy. But, you, my friend from the Grabbit Mart. What’s your name?”

  With a groan I said, “Jessica.”

  “Jessica. Good to know. Girls?”

  The twins bent forward and introduced themselves.

  “Jordyn.”

  “Londyn.”

  “Hey,” I said. And then I realized the guilt from letting him get away with his petty theft was keeping me from what usually came most naturally. Asking questions. “And where are you all from?”

  “All over,” Gabriel said with a smile.

  “Most recently—”

  “Chicago.”

  I nodded. “It has to be a big change going from Chicago to Junction.”

  The girls nodded eagerly. “We had—”

  “Motivating factors that—”

  “Encouraged a change of venue.”

  “That’s always the way.” With werewolves, I thought.

  The doors to the cafeteria opened as the remnants of the Junction Jackrabbits entered, a draft flowing around us.

  The twins eyes sparked and turned to Amy, then to Gabriel. “Should we—”

  “Tell—”

  Gabriel glared at them and looked pointedly at Amy. “There’s nothing to tell. Yet.”