Bayou Blues (31 page)

I’d had to delete my Twitter account. And Facebook. Part of it was for my own sanity and to maintain some anonymity now that I was a true Alpha.

Press had called me day and night, and I’d missed most of it out in the boonies, thankfully. I didn’t even listen to the messages before changing my number. I went through my mail, scanning the contents. Half the letters were requests for interviews. Some were fan mail, though I had no idea how anyone knew where I lived. A couple were written in insane scrawl, telling me they would come for me to finish Timothy’s vision.

Super.

I’d thought being the poster child for my pack had been taxing. It was nothing compared to the scrutiny I was under now for exposing the whole world to what had happened in Franklinton. Some people loved me for it, praised me as a hero. Others thought it would have been better if I’d died.

We’d have to agree to disagree on that point.

A video had leaked onto YouTube showing Timothy killing Carmel. It caught everything, from them dragging a wild, rage-filled Hank in after they’d tased him and locking him in a cage, then Timothy killed Carmel. He shredded her with the array of werewolf and regular wolf paraphernalia available to him in the basement, while Hank was made to watch.

The charges against Hank were all dropped, but it was going to be a long time before he bounced back from this. Apparently they’d used one of the church girls as bait and got him at a bar, slipping him a horse tranquilizer to knock him out.

We knew humans could get to us now.

Once I was unpacked and had thrown out the offending mail, I drifted from room to room, trying to remember how I used to live here. I spent twenty minutes dusting and cleaning the already clean fridge. I stopped short of cleaning the oven.

I didn’t know how to be this version of myself anymore. This was the Genie who’d considered pledging a sorority. This was the girl who’d wanted to play at a human life by running away from her werewolf family.

I didn’t want to go into hiding. But could I be both a pack leader
and
a student? I’d missed my Tulane exams, but for obvious reasons they had allowed me to reschedule. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to take them anymore. Where did my school life fit in the plan I was now a part of? Did I need a degree to be queen, or was it another unwelcome distraction in my life?

Anxious about how quiet the house was, I made my way to the living room and turned on my TV. CNN greeted me with the headline
EXCLUSIVE, First Interview with Deerling’s Secret Family
.

Good Lord.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and adjusted the volume. I liked to keep sound low these days. I tended to hear phantom noises, thinking I was being watched or followed. Call me paranoid, but I was starting to believe I might want to take my safety seriously.

Plus, killing Deerling hadn’t stopped me from being haunted. I’d seen the burning woman twice in the woods outside Callum’s house while I was there. I didn’t chase her again, but whenever she appeared, I thought about my dream mother’s words.

You’re a killer, just like your father
.

I shook off that awful thought and focused on the TV. The beautiful redheaded woman I’d seen at Deerling’s compound was seated in the center of a large U-shaped sofa, her six children divided around her. The little girl I had met briefly was snuggled up to her mother’s side holding a new, pristine teddy bear. She sucked her thumb and gave the interviewer a dead-eyed stare.

That kid still freaked me out.

I’d missed the beginning of the interview because they were already past introductions, and a variety of quotes were scrolling along the bottom of the screen. Behind the family were photos of what I assumed to be the interior of the house I’d seen them in. Dirty mattresses lined the floor, wedged together in small rooms with the windows blacked out.

“According to his pre-death confession, Timothy Deerling suggested you were responsible for turning him into a werewolf,” the reporter said. “Is that true?”

The woman, her name splashed across the screen as Bonnie-Jean Talbot, nodded solemnly. “You need to understand, it wasn’t malicious or intentional. It was an accident.”

They talked around the topic, likely because of the children, but I could see the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks. She’d bitten him during sex. I don’t know if she expected to draw blood. Maybe it was too close to the full moon. It didn’t matter; one bite was all it took.

An expert on supernaturally transmitted diseases (“The new STDs!”) came on to explain the lycanthropy gene, and though I was grateful they got the science right, it still made me mad they were placating their audience.
Don’t worry, it’s very rare.

Timothy’s wife, Shannon, hadn’t given any interviews, but people were speculating wildly online about her child becoming a werewolf. It was possible, but unlikely. Shannon would need to have the same gene. It wouldn’t be long before a test was developed so people could figure out if they carried the gene. God help us.

Bonnie-Jean talked about Timothy before his change, as the sweet man she’d dated in college. But after her bite passed along the infection, he went crazy when he realized what she was and what she’d made him. “He wasn’t always like that. He didn’t know about werewolves until me, but once he started to show signs, I figured out what had happened. I wanted to help him. It’s not easy for those who turn as adults. In our culture you make the decision to become a wolf at an early age. Those turned by accident don’t get to adjust the same.” She sighed, stroking the orange hair of a boy on her left. He’d probably be old enough for the Awakening soon. I wondered what he’d decide. “He reacted like I’d signed his death warrant. He locked me up and wouldn’t let me leave. But he just kept coming back, saying I was in control of him, saying everything was my fault. He’d force me to…”

She looked at her children and her expression was so haunted it broke my heart. “He…punished me. Constantly. He said if we ever left him, he would kill us, and to prove it he would bring women back. Other wolves like me. He’d let me meet them before he killed them.” She started to cry, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “We tried to get out once and he stopped us. He made us move with him. He said if we ever tried to get help, he’d kill the kids first. He told me he would prove how devoted he was to God by using his own children as sacrifices. That God would wash him clean of the impurity if he spilled enough blood.” She was crying so hard the interviewer looked like she might call for a commercial cut. Bonnie-Jean was ignoring the tissue being held out for her.

“What do you have to say to the woman who exposed him, if she’s out there?”

I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if CNN somehow knew I was tuning in.

Bonnie-Jean took the tissue and wiped her eyes and nose. “I want to thank her. She’ll never know it, but she saved our lives. All of us.”

The little girl, her face devoid of emotion, seemed to stare right at me. I hadn’t saved them. I’d just gotten them out alive. But I would do my damnedest to make sure what happened to them didn’t happen to any other wolves.

A knock at the door jerked me out of my dark thoughts. Before unlocking it, I armed the gun on my hall table and peeked through the eyepiece. My heart thumped, and I fumbled to unlock all the bolts.

“
Wilder.
”

He was holding a vase of black roses, beaming at me like he’d won them at the Miss America pageant. “I busted out,” he announced. “Got sick of those open-backed hospital gowns. For a bunch of wolf-doctors, they were way too cautious, kept saying I wasn’t ready. So I left.”

Two weeks
was
an awfully long time to keep a werewolf cooped up anywhere. I’d wanted to see him so many times, but once they’d moved him to the specialty hospital, rules were rules. Only doctors allowed, making me persona non grata in spite of my royal status. Lupo non grata? I mused over the proper Latin for a second before remembering something far more important was standing in front of me.

“You’re okay.” I breathed the words out slowly, hoping I’d believe them if I took my time saying them. “You’re okay.”

“I’m melting out here.”

“Oh. Right.” I stepped aside, and he handed me the roses. “These are beautiful, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, someone left them on your stoop.” He was already in the kitchen, his body inhabiting every space he entered like he could own the air itself. He helped himself to a glass of water and started snooping around, not bothering to ask for a tour. When he disappeared down the hall to my bedroom, I glanced at the flowers.

Black roses were an odd choice for a gift.

A card was tucked in between the dark green thorns, and I plucked it out carefully, slipping the envelope open. In beautiful gothic scroll was a short note:

Glad to know you’re safe, baby girl. The show was Oscar caliber. Ended with a bang. Big man says he couldn’t have done better himself, and he might call on you again. Lots of love, Del & Cain
.

I set the vase on my kitchen table, balancing the card next to it, and stared at them uncertainly. I thought about Cain’s words when we’d made our deal.
Life for a life.
We had saved Hank, and Deerling was dead, but it wasn’t what Cain had asked for. In spite of the pleasant tone of the note, I worried about Del saying Cain might call on me again.

I still owed him a life.

Wilder returned, grinning, distracting me from my uneasiness. “Nice bed.”

“It is.”

A nice bed I’d be sleeping alone in for a while. I liked the idea, the promise of solitude and space. It was going to be a long time before I ever got privacy in public again, so I’d take my quiet where I could find it.

I looked at Wilder.

Okay, maybe I didn’t want to be
totally
alone.

“You’re okay,” I repeated.

“I am very okay, yes. Takes more than a brass bullet to take down a Shaw.” He puffed out his chest like an old-timey strong man, and I laughed.

I didn’t ask about Hank. Deerling’s confession had absolved him of blame for the murder. He’d gone home to Callum’s, and I’d seen him regularly during my time there. Aside from a few choice words about my taste in men, he’d seemed genuinely grateful for the effort I’d made to keep him alive. He’d even said thank you.

Ben hadn’t said anything to me about my new position. He acted like nothing had happened and went back to treating me like his kid sister. I wasn’t sure if that was good or if I should be worried about some intense blowback coming down the line.

“How are things between you and Callum? He came to visit me during my doctor ordered-lock down. He brought Hank, which was a surprise. We talked, but I was afraid to mention you. Callum did get my motorcycle back from the Franklinton impound, though. I thought that was pretty decent of him.” He smiled and took a big sip of his drink. He played it off like a joke, but he was probably more than a little serious. Callum was a scary dude.

I made my way into the living room, muting the TV as I sat. Maureen Cranston’s shrewish face was on the screen, and underneath her quotes said that CAPA was denying any involvement with Deerling and the Church of Morning.

All right, Maureen. Deny, deny, deny. But I was going to keep my eye on her.

I pulled my legs up under me and stared at Wilder, not entirely convinced he was really here.

“He was pissed,” I admitted. “I’ve never been yelled at so much in my life. I thought he would lock me up and throw away the key.”

Wilder took a seat next to me, waiting for what I had to say next. I glanced at the TV, then turned it off, not wanting to see the photos of Timothy Deerling they insisted on plastering up every ten minutes.

“I’m sure if you give him some time, he’ll be more reasonable.”

I raised my hand to quiet him, a slow smile sneaking across my face, one I’d been trying to hide since I got home, but in Wilder’s presence I was incapable of suppressing.

“He made me the Alpha of New Orleans.”

“He what?”

“Apparently stupidity is an Alpha trait.”

Wilder grinned, scratching his stubbled jaw. “I’ll be damned.”

I sat back on the couch, letting the news sink in for both of us.

“Does this mean I have to stop hitting on you?” he asked. “Callum mentioned you’re a single lady now. He seemed pretty relieved.”

I turned my head towards him. I thought the mention of my breakup with Cash would hurt, but instead I felt relief. Ignoring his comment about my uncle’s relief, I said, “As long as you find a better way to impress me, feel free to continue hitting on me.”

“Princess, I’d step in front of a hundred bullets for you if I thought it would get me laid.” He waggled his brows and inched towards me.

“Say that in front of my uncle and he’ll neuter you before it’s ever an issue.”

Wilder mock winced and leaned in for a kiss. I stopped him, my hand pressed flat against his chest.

“What?” he asked.

Staring at his eyes, the flecks of green shining bright in the midafternoon sunlight, I held my breath and let the moment just
be
. I drank in everything right about him, and me, and what had happened, choosing for once to not think about all the bad parts.

It had been hell.

But we’d made it out the other side.

“Nothing,” I replied.

He kissed me, and for once, I let myself be happy in how not-normal this life of mine was.

Want to stay in the loop about upcoming releases? You can sign up for my email newsletter at
www.sierradean.com
, I’m on Twitter at
@sierradean
, or stop by my Facebook page at
http://facebook.com/SierraDeanAuthor
.

If you liked this book (or even if you didn’t), please consider leaving a review!

This is the first book in the Genie McQueen series, but her big sister Secret has already had an epic story that starts with
Something Secret This Way Comes
from Samhain publishing! If you want to read moreof the McQueen sisters’ adventures, Secret has 8 books and 2 novellas available.