Chapter 4
four
. . .
I flung myself on the fuchsia chaise with my arm over my head, trying not to think of that whole disaster.
“Was that really my dad? He’s so big.” Sam was much smaller than I’d been at her age, and I was much, much smaller than Josiah Benton, something I’d been forcibly reminded of while I was looking up at him beneath the shadow of his broad shoulders.
“That was brilliant,” Danny said, pacing around the room. “I’ve never seen so much sizzling chemistry, him telling you to go while his hands pulled you closer, his whole body language impossible to misread while he said the opposite. And the divorce thing? So well done. He’s probably been practicing that line for the last twelve years. He’s got to be so pissed at you for disappearing like that. You didn’t say that you were married. Dang, Honey, you’re brutal.”
Tom cleared his throat and crouched down next to me, flipping knives in both hands in a way that looked like he was about to put out someone’s eye, but intentionally. “When I got home and I realized what your daughter is, and then heard that her father, who you were going to confront, owned a coffee shop, I knew that he was none other than Josiah Benton, only the most dangerous werewolf in the country, probably the world, so I hurried over as fast as I could. You have no idea how much danger you were in.”
“I’ve got an idea,” I mumbled. I felt awful, like I had the flu, and also got smashed ribs in a competition, with a shard that had lodged in my heart. I could still feel his large hands where he’d held the back of my head and wrist, could feel the weight of his tongue against my skin. He felt so good.
“My dulcet love would have taken care of it,” Gloria said airily. “You’re the greatest slayer in the world,” she added, then kissing noises had me sitting up to stare at Gloria, shamelessly making out with old Tom in his crouch right next to my chaise, so her turban looked like it was about to fall off.
“You’re the great descendant of Van Helsing?” Danny asked, frowning at Tom, who had put away the knives so he didn’t put out Gloria’s eyes because she was delicate and precious.
“You guys make me want to throw up,” Sammy said, putting into words exactly how I felt, only also crying. Why would Gloria’s love make me so miserably sad?
“See what you’ve done?” Danny said accusingly at me. “Your own daughter doesn’t know what healthy affection looks like. Nothing wrong with a little, or a lot of tongue, although shouldn’t dangerous slayers keep it in the bedroom?”
Sammy glared at him and went stomping off through the foyer of glass shards and out the front door. I needed to go after her, but hauling myself upright wasn’t easy. I left the two love-birds alone, and found Sammy sitting on the front stoop, glaring out at the dismal yard.
I plopped next to her, leaning against the door and frowning at the weeds surrounding what used to be the lawn. I still felt distinctively queasy, and all that adrenaline was still in my muscles without any outlet unless I sparred with Danny, but I wasn’t feeling up to standing, much less sparring.
“How are you feeling, Sam?” I put my hand on her shoulder, and then realized that my bandage was missing, and the bite looked much better.
She shrugged. “You never talk about him, but I thought he’d be some kind of loser, like a drug dealer or a pimp, but he owns a coffee shop. He looked nice and normal, even when he was mad at you.”
I swallowed hard and let my hand slide off her shoulder. “He’s very nice, except when he isn’t.”
“You never let me choose whether I wanted a dad, and you never let him choose whether or not he wanted a daughter. You’re not always the nicest person either, so for you to judge if I get a father just because you’re afraid…” She shook her head tightly, lips pressed together.
“He has an entire hall filled with cages. He might put you in one of those cages. He might put me in one of those cages. Right now, because we’re here, because I didn’t have another choice. That’s where we are, in his power.”
She turned her head to glare at me. “Cages have doors that open and close. Just because that’s your fear doesn’t mean it’s mine. He’s right. Your fear is disgusting.” Ugh. Kids could be so vicious and cruel, and not just the ones turning into werewolves.
“I agree that my fear is disgusting, but you know what’s even more disgusting? Being caged for months. Hygiene and privacy are so valuable when you don’t have them. I understand that you wish that I’d done things differently. I also wish that I could be the perfect parent, but I’m not, and guess what. That means that you can do better with your kids, because you learned so much from my bad example. So, now that you’re feeling well enough to have attitude, what do you want to do, hm? I could probably get another fake ID off Gloria and hide out somewhere with you, far away from the big bad wolf who is your father, but that stinks of fear, so you’re probably ready to grab the wolf by the ears and make him your, um, pet, right?”
“We’re here because you want him to help me get better, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have faced him. I guess it is sort of brave to face your fear, even if you can’t help but have it.”
“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think there’s any bravery in me, just necessity. It was bad enough being responsible for myself, but when you came along, all of a sudden, I had to make bad choices for two people. I know that he looks nice, and he is nice while he has his beard, but once he shaves it off, you see the other side.”
“Is that like a magic werewolf thing, and are we seriously accepting the existence of werewolves just because of some weird illness I have?”
“He licked me. His tongue wasn’t normal.”
She gave me a shocked look. “He licked you, like on the hand?” She sniffed me cautiously. “That must be why you smell weird.”
I didn’t correct her about the location of the licking, although it could have been worse. “I don’t know whether the whole mythical werewolf thing is relevant with the silver bullets stuff, I’d have to ask Tom, who may or may not be a legit slayer, but there’s definitely something unusual about his genetics which he’s passed on to you. Hopefully, he’ll be able to help you.” I chewed on my bottom lip. I probably shouldn’t have dumped hot chocolate over his head. No, I definitely shouldn’t have dumped hot chocolate over his head. I was begging for help, so I should have apologized for leaving and tried to explain instead of blaming him for lying to me about being whatever he was. I was so good at being a single mom, carrying the burden of parenthood on my own, that I didn’t know how to admit that I needed help.
The door opened, and I almost fell into the hall of glass shards as Danny looked down at me, another person with the mind of a child that I had to take care of.
“Gloria told me to go get groceries. Do you want to come? I know how you value nutrition over taste, and you’ll probably be cooking, also you’re probably the only one with cash, so…”
I got up and ruffled Sam’s hair. “Do you want to come? Maybe you’ll see something that looks good.”
She shook her head and buried her face in her arms. “I’m not going into public again until I can be sure I won’t sprout fur. It’s so embarrassing.”
I sighed heavily and went with Danny to the car. He was more quiet than usual the whole drive. When I looked at him after I’d parked, he was watching me intently, like he was waiting for me to sprout fur too. I rubbed my cheek absently, then shook my head. “What? You clearly wanted to get me alone, so what do you have to say?”
“I got some of the details on our Joe from the slayer lord, or whatever, and he’s supposed to be really well-connected with all the other big bad bumpers, so try not to piss him off next time you see him, which is tomorrow. Fear makes you reckless. You’re in a competition here, and you’ve got to keep your gloves up and your chin tucked. You’ve got to focus on the prize, and that’s his cooperation to help Sammy. Why did you marry him if you were just going to take off?”
I leaned back and closed my eyes. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Have you ever wanted someone so much that you’d do something incredibly stupid to get him?”
He whistled. “I can honestly say that I’ve never married someone just to get them naked. Had no idea that you’d be so impulsive. No wonder you shy away from relationships, other than the fact that you’re still married to someone else. You probably shouldn’t tell him that you want a divorce, but if he wants one, definitely agree with it and prove how responsible and mature you are these days. Definitely don’t tell him that you sleep in showers. I’m thinking kale salad and fried corn.”
After dinner, I went to bed in a tiny room crowded with various stuffed animals, taking the top bunk so Sam could take the bottom. I lay there listening to her breathe until I finally fell asleep, feeling the weight of his sweet tongue on my throat.
I’d been sleeping for twenty minutes when the bell rang, and then Tom knocked on my door. His low, “Honey, you’d better get up,” got me out of my bed and pulling on the nearest pair of bottoms and shirt. I came out into the light of the front room, blinking blearily. I definitely wasn’t finished with that REM cycle.
“Jane?” I asked as the slender woman looked up at me with big eyes. I’d known her ages ago, back when she watched over the woman’s shelter where I’d been dumped by my mysterious savior who had broken me out of the cage. My stomach twisted with memories and regrets. I’d really liked Jane, but I’d left her without a word, just like I’d left him. Josiah. Joe.
“Hi. I’m sorry to wake you up, but he said that now was the time if you still wanted to talk to him.”
I squinted at the old grandfather clock, although I have no idea why, because it wasn’t ever the right time. “It’s fine. After midnight is the same as tomorrow.”
“Your name is Carrie Canary now?” she asked curiously.
“Ah, yeah, I guess.”
She nodded soberly, then glanced down at my shorts. “It suits your clothing, very young and energetic.”
I looked down and realized I was wearing Sam’s oversize shorts and sweatshirt. “Oh, these aren’t mine. Let me go change.”
“Now is when he is willing to give you an audience. I wouldn’t test him,” she added in a low voice.
I swallowed hard and then pulled on my heels and managed to look like one of those college students who is trying not to try. All I needed was a black lip, and I’d be rolling.
Tom stood at the door, his expression mournful. “I can’t come with you where you’ll be going. You could choose to stay here. As Lucky’s foster family, he would not force you.”
I raised my chin because I was the one who was going to force him, not the other way around. Maybe. Or I’d just throw up. “It’ll be fine as long as he keeps his beard on. He still has his beard?” I asked Jane.
She nodded.
I gave Tom a cheerful grin. “Try to keep those wild animals out of trouble, okay?”
“Some people thrive in troubling circumstances. I believe that you are one of those people. Try not to dump hot liquid on anyone who can eat you in two gulps.”
My hands immediately started sweating. Was he trying to make me puke? My stomach had been unsettled all day, and it would take very little to send me over the edge. That was my goal: get through this interview without crying or throwing up.
“Let’s go, Jane.”
“Very well Carrie Canary,” she replied and led me out into the night.
The car ride wasn’t nearly long enough. The driver wasn’t Jane. No, she was sitting in the back with me, fiddling with the hem of her jacket, showing her nervousness.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She startled, glancing at me, then away. “It’s just weird to see you again, with a different name. You look good, like you’ve made a good life, like you know who you are and what you’re doing.”
“Thank you. I’ve worked hard to create stability. Why are you still working with him after he moved to a different city? I thought that you loved Seattle.”
“Can I give you some advice? Don’t ask questions, don’t speak unless spoken to, don’t make direct eye contact, and most important, don’t touch anybody.”
I slid against the back of my seat and folded my hands in my lap. That’s right, because we were taking me to talk to the alpha, who I had to apologize to for twelve years of silence along with a hot chocolate shower. He was so angry at me, furious, but was that because of me taking off or because of Sam? He’d seen her at the door, but maybe he didn’t realize who she was. Of course he didn’t. How could he possibly know with one brief glance that he’d fathered a child that I hadn’t told him about?
When we pulled up at a house, a mansion on the opposite side of the block from the coffee shop, I looked up at the tall facade and blinked at it stupidly.
“What are we doing here?”
“Follow me, please,” she said, ignoring my question as she led me towards the massive double doors. That’s right, no questions allowed. I made direct eye contact with the guard at the door, but luckily, I remembered to look away before he returned the favor.
The house was grand, fifteen foot ceilings, alabaster moldings, carved pocket doors leading from one grandly appointed room to another, but I didn’t have a chance to ogle, because she led me down a very long, very wide hall, and into the back yard, which doubled as a stadium, or maybe it just was a stadium, with the roof open between buildings to show the rising quarter moon.
“Here,” Jane said, handing me a bright yellow robe before donning her own brown one over her jacket and slacks outfit.
“I just put it on over my clothes?”
“Don’t let them smell your fear,” she said, and gestured me to follow her, down the steps, and the inclined walkway to the center of the rows and rows of bleachers surrounding the large platform.
I pulled on the robe as we went, noticing that everyone else was also wearing a robe, most in neutral dark colors, none in the mustard yellow that would make most people look sick. Not me. I was born to wear ugly colors.
Jane took a position next to the steps that led up to the platform, her face a mask of concentration as she searched the crowd, obviously taking her place as guard of this area. I stood there awkwardly, because no way was I going to willingly stand up there in front of hundreds of werewolves who were all ominously silent, watching for me to throw up or faint from fear.
Yeah. Fear wasn’t always irrational, and seeing all those people, weirdly lit by moonlight, looking like some kind of creepy cult where human sacrifice might be an option, I wasn’t in a hurry to climb up there.
On the other side of the platform, Joe stepped up, a robe draped over his arm, wearing loose sweat pants and a t-shirt. He pulled off the t-shirt as he walked, chewing on what looked like a strip of beef jerky, his arms, shoulders, and beautiful chest sculpted and massive, raw strength and incredible virility that was so casual, like he didn’t notice the rows and rows of people watching him.
“The moon’s up, so let’s get this started,” he said, pulling on the robe and tossing the shirt to the side. “We have a hopeful applicant, the young Samantha of various last names, who has been alone without a pack for her entire twelve years. Naturally, she’s very weak, too weak to win her place in my pack, and no way to increase her strength unless she has us to strengthen her. Such a quandary, too weak to join, but won’t get stronger unless she’s part of a strong pack. If only there was someone here willing to fight in her place.” He turned to look at me, the front of his robe open to show the soft swirls of his chest hair. He didn’t have nearly as much hair on his chest as you’d think by the fulness of his beard.
I couldn’t get thrown off by his beard. He hadn’t even said that she was his daughter, just a young stranger, too weak for the pack, so he was still angry, furious at me, and this was his way of getting even. This was our ‘talk,’ and yeah, he’d definitely noticed Sam, even gotten her name.
He was still looking at me, a challenge in his eyes that I absolutely would not back down from.
I stepped up as smoothly as I could in heels and a long robe. “I will fight for my daughter’s place in your pack.” I stayed on the opposite side of the platform from him, glaring at him in the eye like Jane had specifically told me not to do. It took all of my strength to lower my eyes to the white platform, the material spongy, soft, like a fighting ring. I didn’t like not seeing what he was doing, not knowing what his eyes would communicate that I could use to defend myself.
“Who are you?” It sounded like a simple question, but I knew he was trying to get me to look unstable and foolish for my string of bad name choices.
“I’m Samantha’s mother.”
“What name shall we call you? I imagine someone in the crowd will feel the urge to cheer for you out of pity. Carrie Canary? Mickey Matthews? Lara Jones? Or maybe you’d like to go with Honey Harper? Such a sweet name for such a stinging uppercut.”
I froze. How did he know all the names? How could he possibly know about Honey Harper? And Lara Jones? I was completely exposed with nothing to hide behind, not a name, not a pair of gloves, just my love for my daughter and a ridiculous mustard robe. I had nowhere to run, whatever he had planned for me.
“If I’m fighting, you might as well go with Honey Harper.” I glared at him for making me feel so weak, once more forgetting about the eye gaze thing. I dropped my eyes and forced myself to remember Danny’s words. This competition was for Sam. I knew how to win. I could play by the rules, I could control the rage, and I could give him what he wanted, as in, submission.
“Honey Harper it is. Now then, Honey, the rules of the fight are pretty simple. I’m going to ask a member of the audience to volunteer for the job of testing you.” He let that hang in a long silence, like that was the sum total of it, but he’d only scratched the surface.
“What is the test? What are the rules of the fight? What’s off limits? How does it end?”
He gestured and an enormous cage plummeted from above us, hitting the platform with a thud that sent me three steps sideways from the force of it. The metal cage was enormous, solid, burying into the soft mat with its weight.
My heart started pounding and my hands went clammy as I stared at the cage that was the culmination of all of my greatest fears. Jane had warned me not to ask questions.
“It ends when the moon goes behind the building, and you win if you are capable of leaving the cage on your own afterwards. This is not a competition with pretty rules, it is a show of your strength. If you cannot go into the cage and fight for your daughter’s life, you won’t win her place.” His voice was soft, barely loud enough for me to hear, for me, not the audience.
I stared into those dark eyes, pressing my lips together to keep them from trembling. This was the real test, whether or not I was able to go into the cage. Somehow he knew exactly what my greatest fear was, even if I’d never told him about it. Somehow he knew, and he was going to torture me with it.
“Do you swear that you’ll save her?” I whispered, my throat dry.
“I swear, I will treat her as one of our pack as long as you are fighting for her place.” His voice was low, solemn, and he was swearing in front of his whole pack.
I closed my eyes for a moment while I struggled to clear my mind, to take the cleansing calm breaths that would turn me into the most efficient fighter possible, and then I stepped out of the heels, dropped the robe over them, and walked to the cage, staring at the floor inside of it, not the bars, the bars as thick as my wrists, made of solid metal. No. The mat. I knew that space, and it was where I would do far better than survive.
I stood inside the cage, the rest of the world a blur, because I wasn’t looking out of those bars. I knew that if I did, I’d lose it. I’d freak out and run for the door, screaming the entire way. I had to do this for Sam. Keep my gloves up, keep my chin tucked, remember the prize.
“Have we got a volunteer? Ah, Celeste, you’re back sooner than I anticipated. Anyone else? Remember, this is a test, not an execution. If you kill her, your place in the pack is forfeit, passed on to the pup.”
A murmur rose at that, like they were surprised at the extreme consequences for something as negligible as murder. Monsters, all of them, whether they were werewolves or not. Still, it was nice to know that if I didn’t survive, Sam would still get the help she needed.
Celeste soon stepped into the cage, her arms bare along with her stomach. She was a stunning brunette, the kind that you’d think would be too precious to step into a fight, the kind that kept her viciousness for backstabbing, but there was plenty of viciousness in her.
She was barefoot, bare handed, but she wasted no time coming for me. I side-stepped and blocked, spinning away from her attack easily. My goal here wasn’t a knock down end, but endurance. I had to show my ability to last the length of the moon in the sky above me.
She came at me again, and again, and each time, I misdirected her attack and changed her trajectory, getting out of the path of her punch, getting away with small bruises, nothing serious, nothing even close to life-threatening. I finally realized that she wasn’t trying to hurt me, instead working out my abilities, testing my knowledge of various styles and defenses without seriously putting me in harm’s way.
For at least fifteen minutes we did the rounds, until finally, she seriously attacked, breaking through my block and pinning me to the mat with a punch to my face that crunched my nose the way I knew it was probably broken. I hated breaking my nose.
I punched her back, hard enough to damage my knuckles on her nose, smashing it even more dramatically than she’d done mine.
She pulled back, glaring and baring her teeth at me while blood trailed down, staining her teeth and making her look demonic. I’m sure I looked exactly the same. This was pain, blood, the kind of sensation that blocked out everything else. This is what I’d spent years living for.
The following hours passed in a blur of violence that lasted far longer than any other fight I’d been in. When the moon finally went down, and the crowd cheered, she was a bleeding mess, with swollen eyes, split lips, and body covered in bruises like the ones all over me. She was good, fast, well-trained, and probably in better condition than I was, but I was still capable of bringing her pain.
“Enough, Celeste,” Joe said, leaning in the cage’s doorway, a strong hand gripping the top bar as he waited, apparently bored from watching two females hit each other senselessly.
She hit me in the stomach, hard, after he’d already told her that the fight was over, after the crowd had cheered, so I took it badly, crouching and breathing through my mouth while I tried not to throw up.
She flashed a smile at me and then shook her hair down around her face, and then, with a flash of gold in her eyes, her wounds healed as I watched, until she was once more the perfect, beautiful, vicious person who had walked into the cage.
“See you tomorrow night, Honey,” she whispered with a throaty laugh that made me take two steps after her to get her back.
Josiah blocked my way at the exit, his broad chest still wearing nothing but the robe. “Take it out on her tomorrow.” He stepped slowly out of the doorway and gestured me out.
I finally really let myself see the bars as I stepped out of them, and then I was shaking too hard to stand straight. I was so stupidly afraid, but I still had the presence of mind to say, “Tomorrow?” as he gestured out to the audience.
“Well? Is she strong enough to pass this round?” he asked the crowd.
“Round?” I hissed at him, but he ignored me.
The audience cheered, a roaring sound that physically knocked me back a step. There was so much energy and wildness to it. A pack that had this much ferocity would be impossible to defeat and could protect Sam.
“Round?” I asked again, grabbing his wrist and looking up at him. Only it wasn’t him, not anymore. The cheers immediately died, and I released the monster, who was at least two feet taller than Josiah had been a moment ago. He had an elongated canine jaw, with long ears that pointed in a tuft of hair, his skin a dusky red, with darker red marbling of his veins where it wasn’t covered in a thick, dark fur the same color as his dark brown beard had been.
He grinned at me, showing the rows of teeth, sharp, white, gleaming dangerously.
“Sweet Honey,” he growled, his voice another octave lower than before. “Tomorrow we will talk again.” The monster nodded at Jane. “Take the victor of this round back to her quarters.”
I stood there for a long time, staring up at the absolute beast I’d never even thought of having nightmares about, frozen in place from raw terror.
“Unless you’d like me to lick your wounds,” he offered, parting his teeth so that I could catch a glimpse of the long, unnatural tongue that I still felt burned into my skin.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.
“Come on,” Jane said, pulling me away from the monster.
I walked with her, forgetting my shoes, forgetting the robe, forgetting absolutely everything other than the two blood-red eyes watching me go.