Chapter 7 #2
Having happily forgotten all about the werespider attacks that occurred when I was very small and still give me the odd nightmare, I’m not psyched to think about them now.
I also think we all know who could have that power, if we hadn’t vanquished her.
We would also all know if she’d found a way to rise.
So even if it involves Vin?a, it can’t be Vin?a.
This feels less reassuring than it should, I think.
It’s clear the three great powers in this valley agree.
Back behind us, I see the hint of the rising sun above the Cascades. But before it can crest the mountains and spill over into the valley, Savi murmurs something. Even before she’s done, the clouds roll in, making the sun nothing more than a suggestion.
“Thank you.” Ariel acknowledges Savi and her control of the weather—specifically, the sunlight.
It’s one of the reasons that vampires are so strong here.
The other reason is Ariel himself. “I’ll put a closer watch on the house and cottages.
I think I’d feel better about all of this if I had a better idea who’s lurking around the place. ”
“No one,” Ty says immediately, “or I’d know about it.”
Ariel inclines his head. “And yet.”
Savi wrinkles her lovely nose and a light mist shivers over us, standing out here on this abandoned hill.
“I’ll continue my research. Ancient lore predicted what happened at Halloween.
It’s possible it could point toward what happens next.
Meanwhile, I think we should all keep an eye out for indications that Vin?a’s acolytes are still here.
Or gathering here in any kind of force. I personally haven’t seen any of the red cloaks, but that doesn’t mean that they’ve gone away.
They might simply be biding their time.”
“I always thought that if the leader disappears, then their cult falls apart.” I smile slightly when Ty looks at me, no doubt wondering why it is I know anything about cults to begin with. Little realizing I took a whole course on the topic in college.
I won’t share with him that I was trying to decide if he was simply a charismatic male—or if he was the kind of compelling that could lead to things far more unsavory than simply my own self-immolation.
“You are talking about mortal cult leaders,” Savi tells me.
“The tragedy with immortal cults, particularly with godheads of any description, is that all that is required is the belief that they will rise again. Everybody loves a resurrection story. It can animate whole populations for millennia. No actual resurrection required.”
She waves her hand. There’s a shower of light, and then she’s gone.
Winter and I exchange a look. I want to ask her about that vision she had about Briar, however strange and unclear.
Maybe she wants to tell me—but we’re not alone.
I guess we both feel the same strange protectiveness over Briar, though it makes no sense.
We both know, I’m sure, that she wouldn’t spare a thought for us if the situations were reversed.
Hell, she’d have taken us out already.
“There are wolves in the Rockies,” Ariel says to Ty, almost musingly, as if this is what he’s actually been thinking about all this time. Yet only now decided to throw it out to the rest of us. Winter and I exchange an amused look. “More than usual.”
“I’m sure I mentioned that the all-pack gathering will be taking place here next week,” Ty says, with a shit-eating grin that indicates he’s sure of no such thing. “Some of them are used to vampires. Others? Not so much. Might want to tell your little subleeches to watch themselves.”
“Charming.” Ariel eyes Ty for a moment. “Tell your furry friends that we have leash laws in this valley. Or I will.”
I expect Ty to react badly to that, but he laughs. And I swear I see the vampire king smile as he disappears in a literal puff of smoke, taking Winter with him.
That means Ty and I are alone at last in this cold, misty morning that Savi has prepared for us. After a long night of dancing, it feels like a soft, cool blessing.
For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything.
Neither do I. I look around instead, at the remains of the party and the thin, pale morning light.
No direct sunlight, just that mist and gray that is at least an improvement over the summer smoke that lasts well into fall.
Most of the Kind who were partying have slunk away.
Those who live here have crept off to their beds.
There’s no one close to where Ty and I are standing at the edge of the hill, like we’re the only ones left in this whole valley.
“How long have you been finding these sacrifices?” he asks.
He doesn’t look at me while he asks it.
I feel my stomach tremble a little, wondering how this is going to go. Wondering if I’ve finally had my fill of fighting with him.
“The night of the full moon was the first time,” I tell him. “And it wasn’t at my cottage that time. It was on the trail on the way to the den. I meant to tell you. But then . . .”
I don’t finish that sentence. He knows what happened on the full moon. What always happens on every full moon.
“Pretty sure I saw you every single night between then and now,” Ty points out in a low, steady voice I do not trust at all. “Am I missing something?”
I don’t answer that either.
He turns then, and takes his time looking at me. It’s like he’s trying to read things on my face that he doubts I’ll say out loud, and I hate that he has every reason to think that.
“And you having conversations with the sorceress because you happen to find yourselves in Winter’s kitchen at the same time is one thing. That kind of easy access was one of the reasons I agreed to let you stay there. I’m all for it.”
“But,” I murmur.
His gaze darkens. “But I’m pretty sure I heard her say that you went to her. All the way down to Ashland and up into those mountains where anything could happen to you. Without letting anyone know. Without giving anyone, even me, a heads-up that you were doing it. Is that what happened?”
I don’t bother to argue. “It is.”
I expect him to blow up, but he doesn’t. He only studies me for what seems like an inordinate amount of time.
Then he makes me feel as if he let out a heavy sigh, though he doesn’t actually do it. “If any other member of the pack did something like that, how do you think I would respond? How would you advise me to react?”
In my capacity as his mate, he means. The mate he would trust with all his pack business, he means.
Ouch.
“You’re right,” I say. “I should have told you. I don’t know why I didn’t.”
“You don’t? That’s funny, Maddox. Because I do.”
He shakes his head at me, and then he starts walking.
If he wanted to get the hell away from me—as he has many times in the past—he would do that.
He would shift and take off, and while I might be pretty fast, I’m not a werewolf alpha who won his position with his claws, his strength, and the simple fact that no one can catch him.
I walk with him, falling into his rhythm easily, as if his movement compels mine.
As if we match. We don’t walk a lot of places together, not in our human forms, and there’s something about it that gets to me.
It amazes me that we can fit so well together as both wolves and humans, but I think better of saying that.
That’s not something he’s going to want to hear. Not in the strange mood he’s in.
We head down the hill, through gnarled trees in the throes of their winter blues.
At the bottom, we wander through a haphazard collection of abandoned buildings and old picked-over shops.
We keep going until we find ourselves on one of the old roads that winds across the valley floor, crosses what was once the interstate a bit farther south than the center of Medford, and eventually makes its way over to Jacksonville and the hills beyond.
“You know as well as I do that we’re coming to the end here,” he tells me, quietly, as we pick our way across churned-up asphalt and around downed trees that have likely been left as convenient barricades for those who imagine themselves highwaymen. “I don’t have to keep saying it.”
The mist is playing hide-and-seek out in the old pear orchards.
The clouds scud along the sky, looking like they’re trying to collide with the mountains, though they never do.
I can almost see the trails etched into the hillsides as we walk, reminding me of hikes I took long ago with human schoolchildren who could never see the creatures who lurked just out of sight.
Now it’s the humans who hide.
I take my time answering him, because my heart hurts and I don’t want him to hear that. Not now. “Everything ends, Ty. You and me. The world. You’re going to have to be more specific. The vague threats wore off a long time ago.”
Beside me, he makes a low noise again. Still not really a growl. “I’m not threatening you.”
“Aren’t you?” I keep my voice quiet too.
The air is crisp and soft at once, winter infusing every breath although technically, it’s still fall.
“You could have put a stop to all of this a long time ago. You could have told every single member of the pack, in no uncertain terms, that you support what I’m doing no matter how long it takes. You—”
“What the fuck do you think I told them?” Ty growls at me.
He stops walking, so I do too. We cover a lot of ground pretty quickly, even on the substandard two feet. We’re already up on Bellinger Lane, with its sweet view over pretty Jacksonville, looking like the dreams I can’t kick of the normal life I’ve never had.
Maybe that’s been my problem all along.
“Are you kidding me?” Ty demands. “All I do is tell everyone who dares think about you wrong that you have my absolute and complete support in all things. Do you really think this would have gone so far if I didn’t?”
“I’m the one they growl at—” I begin.