Chapter 21 #2
Atticus’s folks gasped, and their faces blanched of color.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“As I said, we wouldn’t because we have a family to love and protect, but who knows what others will do.”
Peregrine and Corvin shared a glance before heading for the door, leaving it open as they scuttled down the hallway.
Dad dusted off his hands. “I’m guessing we won’t see them again.”
“Oh, they’ll rear their heads again if we discover Eira has a wolf inside her and they once again try to claim her as one of them.”
Rawling placed a protective hand over our daughter. “Never. She’s a Blakesley and a Hinson.”
Father tapped his lips. “I’ve been trying to think where I’d heard the name Blakesley.”
My mate’s eyes lit up. “Where? Someone at Sombertooth? Human or shifter? Can you get in contact with them?”
Father put his hands on my mate’s shoulders and sat him down, saying he didn’t mean to get him wound up. “It was when we were at school. Rawlins was in a play where his character was a Paul Blakesley.”
“Oh.”
Shit. Rawling had his expectations hyped, only to have them crushed seconds later. I took him in my arms. There was no history or extended family stretching back generations, just a made-up name, perhaps on a whim. That had to hurt.
“It’s okay. I’ve learned that families are complicated, and Rawlins was no exception. He hid so much of himself, I guess, and wanted to keep me hidden too.”
“I wonder if he and Charlie knew you were Peregrine and Corvin’s and, knowing what they were like, wanted to distance you from them?” Father said.
“Maybe.”
My folks left with the instructions that they’d make a short list of the manny candidates, but we’d have to do the hard work of interviewing them.
“Perhaps Rawlins gave me a new name because he thought I might be a hunter.”
I rubbed my eyes, wanting to block out the conversation. Enough of hunters. I thought we were done with them.
He tugged at my shirt. “But if I was or still am, could I have made Atticus a hunter when he donated blood?”
At least I could swat that argument away. “Atticus has a wolf, so no, he couldn’t be a hunter. Also, if he was hearing voices, he’d be yelling, “Who the fuck are you? Piss off out of my head.”
Rawling looked at me, and we giggled. The image wasn’t pretty, but laughter chased away the demons, or in this case, hunters.
Atticus
I’d snuck up behind the latent outside the dining hall. “I’ve been a shifter all my life, so I am the superior brother.” I’d been dying to tell him that, but Phelan had kept me away from the guy.
He and Phelan were here for the first time with the kid, and when they walked in, students were crowded around them making stupid sickening sounds at the baby.
Everyone at school had heard Rawling was my twin, damn it, and that Jack’s bear scarred me.
I couldn’t hide my facial wound, but I could have lied and said I battled a dragon.
Instead, I wore it proudly because I survived a bear attack and lived to tell the tale, though everyone whispered behind their hands when I passed.
Rawling swung around, and I recognized his expression ‘cause I’d seen it before. But where? My wolf sighed, telling me I knew exactly where. But he was wrong. I didn’t look like that.
“You know what? I’m going to show you who’s superior.” He handed Phelan the baby. “Look after her. I’m going to shoot something.”
Huh? That fucker was going to try and end my life? No way. He had no wolf to back him up.
“Having a pissing contest isn’t going to help,” Phelan told him.
“But it’s going to feel so good when I whip his scrawny ass.”
“My ass is— Forget it.”
“Get your godsdamned bow and arrows and meet me at the range and we’ll prove who’s superior.” He glanced over his shoulder. “And when you lose, you babysit while Phelan and I go out for a meal.”
He stalked off, leaving me and Phelan open-mouthed. Gods, he had so much energy after having the baby. That was my blood doing that. Shame I couldn’t get some of it back.
“Fine, but I’m not losing.” I hadn’t told him what I expected when I won. Maybe he could be my servant for a week. I read that used to happen in old-timey boarding schools.
I raced after him, wanting to reach the archery range first. It was usually empty at this time of day, and I had something to prove. Grabbing my bow from where I stored it in the gym, I slung it over my shoulder and took a quiver of arrows.
I shot first, wanting to show off my skill. I’d been practicing while the latent had been confined to the infirmary, and I suspected almost dying would have affected his ability. My arrow hit close to the center of the target, and I puffed out my chest.
Coach appeared, and I noted the fancy watch she was wearing as she studied her top-of-the-line phone. Wow. Sombertooth must be paying the staff top dollar. I had to ask Father if he’d buy me one.
Coach glared at us as her phone rang, and as she stalked off, she mentioned the sports center before getting into her car.
Rawling ignored me and planted his feet on the ground. He lifted the bow, and the arrow buried itself in the dead center. Shit! He hit it again and again, and his arrows were clustered tightly together. How did he do that?
He lowered his bow and glanced at me. “Again or shall we declare me the winner of this little wager?”
“You can thank my blood for that. You didn’t do it on your own. And since I gave it to you, I’ve been really tired and sleeping more, so it’s your fault I didn’t do as well as you.”