Chapter 21 #2
Krys straightened up and flipped his hair to the side. “You can’t see all of it unless I shave my head, and that’s never happening. To go back to your first question, I only shifted when they did. I got this scar the first time I didn’t let my wolf out.”
He stepped back. “No wonder you’re always riding bears.”
Krys shrugged. “That first time was no picnic. I jumped on his wolf, but he slipped out of my grasp and bit the back of my head. He should’ve gone for the jugular.”
“What happened?”
“I snapped his neck.”
Virgil leaned against the corner of the vehicle and crossed his arms. “That’s messed up.”
“My keepers either didn’t know about my injury or didn’t care, since my hair covered it.” Krys suddenly felt like a psychopath bragging about this shit. Time to change the topic. “Is your ghost here?”
Virgil cast his gaze over his shoulder. “No. Rainbow Brite is prancing in the field with Cleo. She likes to pretend the living can hear her, so her conversations are one-sided.” After grabbing a jar of peanut butter and a spoon from his bag, Virgil returned to his seat and cracked open the lid.
Krys took a deep breath of summer air. Confiding personal stuff in Virgil was easier than he’d thought. Maybe it was the golden light picking up all the highlights in Virgil’s blond hair or the fact this moment was all theirs, but Krys felt emboldened enough to stroke his back.
Virgil licked the spoon and chuckled at Cleo, whose tail popped into view along with her ears.
Luckily, there weren’t any houses or cars in sight.
“Ever thought about kids?” Virgil asked.
“Take a wild guess. What about you?”
Virgil scooped another spoonful. “My father’s rejection messed me up.”
“Relatable. My old man was a real piece of work. Archer’s too, but…”
Virgil buried the spoon in the jar and set it aside. He licked the corner of his mouth, his blue-green eyes more brilliant than usual in the changing light. “But what?”
“You don’t want to hear this depressing shit.”
Virgil touched his leg. “Yes, I do. Tell me.”
As much as Krys didn’t like dredging up his past, confiding in Virgil made him feel more connected.
He decided to give him more context behind what he’d already told him.
“After I got free, I thought my parents would be glad to see I was alive, but my father wanted nothing to do with me because of the cage fights. He looked me right in the eye and said I ruined the family name. What he meant to say was that I ruined his name. My old Packmaster said I was too unstable to take back. He couldn’t trust my wolf with the pack.
My mom… Well, she was a decent woman, but she couldn’t accept what I’d done.
My old man forced his opinions on her—something I didn’t recognize until years later.
Funny the things you don’t notice as a kid that you do when you’re grown.
” He turned his gaze up to a lone cloud floating by.
“On top of all that, I share my name with a serial killer. Can’t I get a break? ”
“You get a break when you’re dead.”
Krys stared at a butterfly that landed on his knee before flitting off. “What kind of man turns away their own flesh and blood? He didn’t even give me a chance.”
“Sounds like a contender for the Shitty Father of the Year Award. I don’t know how to be a father, so I’d just screw them up. The kids in the house love me, but…” He leaned back on his hands. “How can you be a dad when you don’t know what fatherhood looks like?”
Krys wanted to put his arm around Virgil and tell him he’d make a great father. “What about mating?”
He picked up his peanut butter and resumed eating. “Relationships don’t last.”
Krys turned his gaze to the radiant sun dipping below the horizon. “You don’t think the couples in the house will stay together? Maybe love isn’t your issue.”
“Meaning?”
“Do you think there’s something wrong with you that makes people not want to stick around? It can’t be the Gravewalker thing. People can look past that. I think you’re scared.”
He cleaned off his spoon. “Of what?”
“Love. Because you’ve never given it to anyone.”
Virgil set down his peanut butter. “That’s too deep for me.”
“Have you ever thought about settling down with another Gravewalker?”
Virgil choked with laughter, which erupted into a hyena sound that forced Krys to smile.
“That’s too much crazy in a blender. Gravewalkers have a higher divorce rate than other Breeds.
So I’ve heard. Someone always brings home a ghost, and that ruins a marriage.
It sounds like you’ve been thinking a lot about love, Mr. Lover-Lover.
You’re the one who needs to settle down. ”
“I’m too fucked up.”
Virgil scratched his knee through the hole in his jeans. “How long did they keep you for?”
“Twenty-seven years.”
“Are you serious?” he exclaimed.
Cleo glanced up.
Krys waved so she wouldn’t get alarmed. “Keep it down.”
“Twenty-seven years? How the hell did you escape?”
“There was a raid, and they arrested everyone. The authorities wanted to interview the fighters, but I was too scared they might execute me or lock me up, so I got the hell out of there.”
Virgil faced him, one leg bent at the knee. “Why didn’t you tell us? You can’t drape a sheet over your past like it’s a dusty old piano. I’ve dealt with my past, and I’m better for it.”
Krys barked out a laugh. “Really? Sounds like you’ve been doing a lot of running yourself.”
“I’m not running from my past; I’m running from actual specters threatening my life. Big difference.” He screwed the lid back onto the peanut butter and downed his soda. When he emptied the can, he stood and stomped it flat. “Now I know why your wolf doesn’t trust people. Cleo was right.”
“About what?”
“He’s scared of being hurt.”
Krys wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t.
In the later years of his captivity, he chose to fight in human form because his wolf hadn’t signed up for that life.
Afraid the fights would traumatize his animal permanently, he learned how to read his opponents.
How to fight better. How to think on the fly.
He wanted to protect his wolf from dominating every match between man or beast, especially death matches.
Virgil twisted around and put his peanut butter in the bag.
“Your wolf feels your fear, and that’s why he’s growly.
You’re so afraid of what he might do that you’re projecting your emotions onto him.
You need to mellow out and trust him. He’s not a vicious killer.
Okay, he can be a vicious killer, but I don’t think that’s his nature. ”
“Quit psychoanalyzing me.”
“The truth will set you free,” he sang before waggling his eyebrows. “Best road trip ever.”
“You’ve got a twisted sense of humor.”
Virgil’s flirtatious wink made him nervous. “What’s your dream vacation?”
“Easy. Riding my bike cross-country. From one coast to the next.”
“I don’t know how your ass can sit that long on a motorcycle.”
“You get used to it.”
Virgil stood and waded through the field of wildflowers while the last drop of light disappeared behind a distant hill.
Coral and amethyst clouds over a cerulean sky deepened with each passing second.
Krys got chills when Virgil’s voice rang out a haunting version of “Separate Ways” by Journey, one of the many songs he’d played on his phone during the trip.
Krys wanted to take a mental photograph of this moment.
There wasn’t a more perfect one in memory, and he wished they could stay here forever.
The warm wind circling him like an embrace, the flowers dancing beneath a pastel sky, Virgil singing as if he could summon the moon, and Cleo gathering flowers.
He couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever felt this happy.
And yet it was all coming to an end.