Haven

  “Do you have my number, Merrick?” Rain asked.

  He shook his head.

  “I’ll get your number from Freddie and text you my contact.”

  Still shuffling, he grinned. “Thanks. You’re not so bad, Ryland. In fact, you’re pretty damn cool.”

  “Okay. Next thing I know, you two will be making out,” Freddie grumbled. “Go put some hair on, loser, and run home.”

  Merrick grinned and trotted away from them.

  “And eat something. You’re skinny!” she shouted as he waved over his shoulder.

  With only the top of his head visible, Merrick crouched in the tall grass. Rain held his breath, wishing he could witness the change. Everything in him was fascinated… No, everything in him was obsessed with the process. It felt like when he was in middle school and all he wanted was to be in high school. Rain’s instincts had always been excellent, and deep down, he knew this was right. He belonged with this pack for as long as he was alive, and he wanted to jump in with both feet and come out with four.

  A brown wolf emerged from the grass and stared at them, tail wagging.

  “Go home, fleabag,” Freddie ordered.

  Tongue lolling, he loped off down the road, then disappeared into another field.

  “I thought Watchers could only change during The Five,” Rain said.

  “I said it was only free during The Five. Merrick lost some time doing that, but sometimes that’s a price worth paying. He doesn’t have a car, and traveling as a wolf is fast and effective.”

  “So when you change, you lose your clothes.”

  “We take them off first. It gets expensive replacing them when they’re lost or destroyed.”

  He remembered the stark, haunted look on her face as she’d crouched behind the crate in the barn. “That’s why you were naked when I found you in the barn and when you came to my window. You’d been in your wolf form.”

  She pulled a long piece of grass next to the road and twisted it around her finger. “You already knew that.”

  “Why?”

  “Why, what?”

  “Why were you hiding from your cousins those times? It was during The Five, so it wasn’t a time-limit thing.” He gestured to where her cousin had disappeared. “Nakedness isn’t an issue for you guys, so why?”

  She kicked a rock at her feet and dropped the grass. “Let’s go. I’ve got work in the morning.”

  “I do, too, but this is a lot more important.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “You’re important. I know it wasn’t a game of hide-and-go-seek.”

  She sniffed and looked out over the road and field. The crickets and nighttime creatures had gone back to making a racket in the almost breezeless night. “I have a problem.”

  Rain remained very still, not wanting to interrupt or distract her.

  “Since Dad died…” It was as if she couldn’t look at him. Her smooth face glowed blue in the moonlight as her eyes remained on the field. “Since he died, I can’t hold my wolf form.”

  “I saw you shift—”

  “I can shift form fine. I just can’t maintain it for long.” She sighed. “I know it’s because of what happened to Dad. The inability to shift form is often a side effect of depression or anxiety or fear. It’s the ultimate weakness. If the pack found out… If anyone, including my cousins, found out, I’d be labeled weak and possibly destroyed.”

  Wordlessly, Rain pulled her into his arms. No wonder she had seemed terrified in that barn. One word from him, and her cousins would’ve heard from the field, and it would’ve been game over. He ran his hand up her spine and back down to her waist. She felt amazing in his arms. Strong and warm and soft in all the right places. “We’ll find out who did this to your dad. We’ll bring that person to justice.” She nodded against his chest. “Promise me you won’t carry through with the threat you made in Mrs. Goff’s house about not stepping up to Alpha if I’m changed into a Watcher. Wait to make that decision until after we solve this murder.”

  “I don’t want you to become one of us.”

  No problem there. He was probably going to die first. “I understand that. Let’s just play it day to day and see how it goes, okay? First things first: Let’s see what mess your cousins are into, then we’ll figure out who killed your dad and Gerald.”

  He tied his backpack down to the rack on the back of the motorbike then got on, and Freddie slipped behind him. Nothing in the world felt better than when they were flying through the night, her legs on either side of him, her breasts pressed against his back, and her arms wrapped around his waist. Well, maybe there was a thing or two that felt better, but after seeing his future, he was determined to pay attention and revel in each moment. He grinned as her hands roved under his shirt and across his chest. This was a good moment.

  You’ll make a difference, Petra had said. It’s not for nothing.

  He was damn well going to make sure of that. For him, for Freddie, for Ruby…for his pack.

  Thirty-Three

  When Rain arrived at Ericksen Hardware and Feed the next morning, nobody was in the main part of the store. He was in a crap mood, so that was probably for the best.

  He’d gotten home last night to find Ruby at the kitchen table waiting up for him. At first, he’d thought he was in trouble for getting in so late, but as usual, his aunt was chill. She simply asked him to keep tonight open because she wanted him to bring Freddie for dinner and then told him that she had an after-dinner surprise planned.

  Surprises weren’t his thing—especially when he thought about how intense it was going to be with Freddie there and his constant fear Aunt Ruby would pick up on something that would drag her into this Watcher/Weaver mess. Rain had accepted that his fate was sealed, but he was in control of his life until then. He didn’t want his aunt’s death to be his legacy.

  He shook his head to clear the image of the wolf’s face covered in his blood that had haunted him all night and transferred his backpack to his other shoulder. “Hello?” he called, wondering if Grant’s weird little sister was lurking somewhere.

  As he approached the counter, raised voices came from the office at the back. One voice he recognized as Grant’s; the other was probably Grant’s dad’s. Occasionally, a woman would chime in, but he could only make out an occasional word.

  He needed to hear this conversation. Nothing suspicious about taking a leak before work, right? He headed to the bathroom at the back, looking casual in case someone was lurking around. Once inside, he locked the door and leaned back against it.

  The people on the other side of the wall were no longer yelling. Maybe the argument was over.

  Something on the other side of the wall crashed, and a woman screamed.

  Maybe not.

  “Stop it, Dad!” That was clearly Grant’s voice, and the woman who’d screamed was probably his mom.

  “I’m tired of excuses. This male they brought in is as uncontrollable as the girl. Remove them both and go with Ulrich’s oldest son.”

  “Go with Kurt? Are you crazy, Dad? He can’t lead the pack.”

  Something else broke, and the woman shrieked, “Stop it, Charles. That was my mother’s.”

  “Here’s what you don’t understand, son. We don’t want one who can lead. We want one who can be led.” Mr. Ericksen’s voice shook like he was on the edge of losing his shit completely.

  “By birth, Freddie’s up next. She’s my choice,” Grant said.

  “What you want doesn’t matter. We can control Kurt easily,” the man said. “And your…girl won’t commit. The pack is in chaos. Wanda got wind of some kind of trouble brewing.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Grant asked.

  “She heard talk of something called a ‘blood-in’ going on soon,” the woman said.

  Rain had heard that term often. Gangs initiated new members in different ways. Most of the gangs he’d been in contact with “jumped in” new members by beating the shit out of them. To “blood-in” generally meant a prospe
ctive recruit had to kill or seriously injure a non–gang member to prove loyalty. God, he hoped that wasn’t what Thomas and Kurt were up to.

  “What does that mean?” Grant asked.

  His father replied, “She doesn’t know, but she thinks it’s a hit of some kind. She has the thugs’ phones bugged and will pass on information if more becomes available. Meanwhile, she’s tracking all their microchips, your girl included. You know she was out at Helga Goff’s place last night, right?”

  “So?”

  “So, she’s snooping into things she needs to leave alone. Things that will get her killed, which might be a blessing in disguise, if you ask me.”

  There was a pause before Grant spoke again. “When we were at Haven after Gerald’s body had been found, you didn’t dispute Freddie’s claim that her dad was murdered.”

  “You need to know what to leave alone, too, son.”

  “You know what, Dad? I think I should leave you alone. You might need to smash some more vases or something. Gotta go to work.”

  A door slammed, and Rain checked to be sure he’d locked the bathroom, then leaned his ear against the wall again.

  “You can’t treat your son like that,” Mrs. Ericksen said. “He’s a man now.”

  “He’s still my apprentice. In the olden days, he would have been bound to—”

  “Times have changed, Charles, whether we agree or not. Most of the younger generation relate more to Hans Burkhart’s separatist ways than tradition.”

  “His plan would be the end of the coven and the pack, too. I told Hans that and he wouldn’t listen. Now look what happened.”

  “Maybe it’s time for you to let Grant have more control, like you promised.”

  “Maybe it’s time for you to quit nagging me, like you promised.”

  A twist of the knob, then a knock on the bathroom door nearly sent Rain launching out of his skin. “Just a second,” he called.

  After a minute or so in which he calmed his panicked heart, Rain flushed the toilet and then washed his hands to make the whole routine sound authentic. When he opened the door, Grant was leaning against the wall waiting. Rain stepped out and gestured to the open door. “All yours.”

  The only response was a lift of one blond eyebrow.

  Busted.

  “Brigitte said I’d find you here. Said you’d been in here a long time.”

  Brigitte must be the creepy sister’s name. “Yeah, kinda queasy today.”

  From the skeptical look on Grant’s face, Rain knew he wasn’t buying it. No need to play games. Nothing to lose except time. Rain kept his voice low in case the creepy sister was nearby. “Microchips? Fucking microchips like they’re dogs?”

  “Let’s load up,” Grant said a bit too loud as he shoved him hard toward the back door they’d taken yesterday to reach the truck. “Don’t ever eavesdrop on my family again,” Grant warned as the door closed behind them. “If you want to know something, ask me.”

  Rain squinted in the bright sunshine. Oh, sure. Just ask. Like this guy would narc on his family. Mrs. Ericksen knew about Hans Burkhart’s murder and was part of the cover-up, and the whole family was probably in on it, including this guy.

  “And never, ever talk inside the store,” Grant warned when they hit the parking lot. “My sister hears everything. And never say anything on your phone you don’t want everyone to hear.”

  Yeah, because the chief has it bugged, no doubt. “Am I microchipped?” Rain searched his brain for when one could have been implanted. He’d blacked out several times after drinking the wine.

  “Not yet,” Grant answered. “But you will be. It’s mandatory for Watchers. We need to locate bodies if something happens…for obvious reasons. Revenants are bad business.”

  “Sounds like the chips are useful for other things, like tracking people without their knowledge.”

  Grant stopped by an empty trailer parked diagonally through three spaces. “It’s common knowledge. They all know.” His voice was civil, but his body language was anything but—fists balled at his sides, lips turned down, brow furrowed. His tone was laced with threat as he enunciated his next words slowly and clearly. “Why was Freddie at Helga’s place last night?”

  “We had a hankering for some home-baked cookies.”

  Grant got right in Rain’s face. No fear, only rage. “This is not a game, Ryland.”

  “No, it’s not a game. So why don’t you and your creepy-ass family stop playing with people’s lives like this town’s a chessboard and the people are pawns to move around and murder at will?”

  Grant moved so fast, Rain didn’t even see the punch coming. With a crack, Grant’s fist met the side of his face, and familiar, searing pain bloomed all the way from his cheek to his jaw. The blow sent him reeling back a few steps, but he stayed upright.

  “I don’t want to fight you,” Grant said.

  Well, that made one of them. Rain charged and got in a solid punch to the gut that doubled the guy over. “Then you shouldn’t have hit me.”

  Still bent over, he said, “You called my family murderers.”

  Because they probably were. They certainly covered up Freddie’s dad’s murder, which was the next best thing.

  A door creaked, and Grant’s dad stepped out on the landing behind the back door. “Everything okay out there?”

  Grant straightened. “Yeah, we’re just messing around. Practicing some wrestling moves from gym class. We’re going to move the two-bys onto the flatbed now.” His voice was surprisingly solid for a guy who’d just had his intestines rearranged.

  “And the bags of concrete mix,” his dad called.

  “Those, too.”

  From his labored breathing, Rain cold tell Grant was still in pain from the punch, but from where his father stood, it probably wasn’t evident.

  His father nodded and went back inside the store.

  Grant leaned over with a groan and put his hands on his knees. “I’m trying to save your life—both of your lives.” He took several gulps of air and stood up straight again. “You and Freddie need to stop fighting the wrong people.” His eyes flitted to the building where his dad was staring at them out the window closest to the door. “We’ve gotta get moving.”

  Usually, Rain felt better after a fight. Somehow, hitting Grant had made him feel worse. Maybe the wine Friday night had messed up his instincts, or maybe it was the guy’s power of influence, but he felt like his anger was misplaced.

  They walked through a gate in a chain-link fence surrounding the lumberyard. The tall fence with barbed wire on top was designed to keep thieves out of the yard, but it felt like a prison to Rain.

  Grant rubbed his stomach with his palm as they walked. “When Gerald was found at Haven, the chief mentioned a file he’d passed you. Is that why you went to Helga? Why Freddie thinks her dad was murdered?”

  Rain didn’t answer.

  “Was her dad murdered?”

  It struck Rain that this was a genuine question, not a leading one. Maybe Grant really didn’t know. After the conversation he’d overheard through the bathroom wall, it certainly seemed that way. Maybe Grant was on the outside just like Petra and Freddie. “Yes. Without a doubt.”

  “Damn.” He ran his hands through his curly hair. “Poor Freddie. No wonder she’s having trouble managing her wolf.”

  So much for nobody finding out. He wondered how Grant knew as he followed him to a pile of lumber up on a metal frame.

  “Wait here,” Grant said. “I’ll get the flatbed.” In a few minutes, a different truck than yesterday backed up to the rack of wood.

  Without speaking, Grant pitched Rain a pair of work gloves and put on a pair himself. He picked up two of the long boards and slid them onto the flat metal surface of the truck bed. Then, he did the same with two more, then more.

  Rain dropped his backpack on the pavement and fell into the same routine from the other side. “How many do we load?”

  “All of them. Carter Ranch is building a new barn
. They’re sick of losing calves.” He gave Rain a pointed stare. “The main load was delivered two weeks ago, but they came up a little short to finish.”

  He assumed the loss of livestock was due to the pack. He loaded another two boards. “You really didn’t know about Freddie’s dad?”

  Grant didn’t even slow his load of the lumber. “No. I had no idea.”

  “Petra thinks you framed her for it.”

  “How could I have framed her? I thought it was an accident until Freddie’s announcement yesterday.”

  Rain threw two more boards on the stack. “Word is Petra thinks you hate her.”

  He shook his head. “Because she’s paranoid.”

  “Maybe with good cause. There’s some kind of tribunal convening next year to try her for his murder.”

  He stopped mid-lift. “Someone likes Petra for Hans Burkhart’s murder?”

  “Yes.”

  “No way.” He added the boards to the stack. “She was in favor of his plan and, with the exception of her parents, she doesn’t take orders from anybody. One of these days, she’s going to realize she has a lot more power than her entire family combined, and she’ll quit taking their shit.”

  Rain pulled two more boards off the rack. It didn’t sound like Grant hated Petra at all. It sounded like he admired her. “Exactly what was Hans Burkhart’s plan?” His boards hit the top of the stack on the truck with a crash.

  Grant pulled off his gloves and shoved them in his waistband, then picked at something on his palm—probably a splinter. He clearly wasn’t going to answer.

  The hackles rose on Rain’s neck. “You said that I should ask you, rather than try to find answers on my own, remember?”

  Grant sucked on a place on his palm, probably to get the splinter out, then spat on the pavement. “Hans believed that the Weaver/Watcher system was out of date and needed a new direction. He wanted the pack to be self-sufficient and autonomous. He proposed that in exchange for the herbs in the wine and the necklaces that keep the wolf balanced inside them, the pack would protect the Weavers on the four high spell days and on request for additional spell weaving. No need for microchips and forced compliance. He wanted symbiosis between the Watchers and Weavers, not—”