Blood Bond (14 page)

Vera took another sip of her tea, eyeing me
over the rim of her cup. “It’s nice to see you again,” she said as
set the teacup down. Her movements were stiff, her frame rigid. I
couldn’t tell if that was part of her normal posture or if she was
in some sort of pain. “Come. Sit.” She motioned to the chair
opposite hers.

I shuffled forward. “It’s good to see you
too,” I said, sinking into the offered chair. “I’m sorry to barge
in on you like this. I was hoping we could talk.”

“You can barge in anytime,” she said with a
wave of her hand. “My illness has become more monotonous than
anything else. I’ll take vicarious adventure over none at all.” She
smiled and her expression struck me as surprisingly genuine. It
eased the tension some. “What is it you’d like to talk to me
about?”

“Um, how are you feeling?”

“I have good days and bad days. Today is the
former, or I wouldn’t be in this chair. But you didn’t come here to
talk to me about my health.”

“No, but I … I can, if you want. I mean, if
you need someone to talk to.”

She coughed, a deep, throaty sound. “That’s
very kind of you, Tara, but I’d rather you distract me with what’s
going on with you.”

“It’s George. Miles’s serum is working
quickly. He’s getting stronger, which means he’s close to changing,
and I still don’t have any idea how to fix him.”

She folded her hands in her lap, calm and
collected. “And you think I do?”

“I think you know things I don’t.” I tried
to keep the frustration out of my voice. Talking about George’s
fate so rationally made me want to scream in desperation. There
wasn’t time to be calm.

“There’s no way to stop the change, Tara,”
she said gently.

“I know that,” I said impatiently. “The
thing is, before he died, Miles said the only way to help George is
to inject him with my blood.”

“And you believe he was telling the
truth?”

“I don’t know. I think he was capable of it.
And he really wanted the hybrid thing to work, so I think he would
do anything to see it happen, even after he’s gone. He said if I
wanted to know for sure, I should talk to Astor DeLuca.”

“Yes, I’d heard he’d mentioned the
name.”

Something about her expression made me sit
up straighter. It wasn’t a deep frown or a scowl like Grandma gave
when I’d mentioned the name to her. It was interest, curiosity, and
something else … excitement?

“Do you know him?” I asked.

“He was a good friend, once upon a time.
Now, I doubt there’s anyone who really knows him. He’s a recluse,
which would’ve been his fate whether he chose it or not.”

“Because he killed a girl?”

“
It wasn’t so much her
death as the decisions leading up to it that infuriated
people.”

“What do you mean?”

She took a deep breath, like the story she
was about to tell weighed on her. “Astor was, or is, a brilliant
scientist. Gifted beyond any I’ve ever seen. His work back then
focused on metals. How and why metals affect Werewolves so
absolutely. Mary Beth was his partner. She was just as brilliant as
he was but better with the practicalities.” She smiled wryly,
adding, “Mary Beth made sure Astor recorded his research and didn’t
burn the place down.”

“Mary Beth was the girl who died?”

She nodded and went on. “Astor was engaged
in an experiment: the effects of metal on Werewolves in human form
versus wolf form, and the best and worst material to use against
each. He’d mapped out a great deal for us about the second spirit
of a Werewolf, and how metal was such an absolute killer. Some of
our best weapons against Werewolves come from his research and
discoveries. Well, his and your father’s.”

“Astor worked with my father?”

“For a time. After the accident, Astor
pulled away, but your father kept going. It was just as well. Even
with the priceless discoveries, CHAS never would’ve accepted it if
it’d had Astor’s name on it.”

“Why? What exactly happened to Mary
Beth?”

“As I understood it, Mary Beth offered to be
a guinea pig of sorts. They injected each other with a serum Astor
developed. It gave her all of the characteristics of a Werewolf, so
I’m told.”

“Like the serum Miles gave George?” I asked,
trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. I didn’t care how
unstable or loopy this guy was if he had answers.

“Similar, except Astor’s version made sure
Mary Beth retained her humanity and control over her shifting. I
don’t know the details. After the injection, Mary Beth offered to
test some of the metals they were working with. There was an
accident in the lab and Mary Beth was killed.”

“How did she die?”

“I don’t know the details. The entire thing
was kept quiet. CHAS investigated but they couldn’t do much because
of the conflict of jurisdiction. Astor was under contract with
them, to provide findings for his weaponized use of metals, so they
voided the contract, but they couldn’t charge him under CHAS law,
since he’s a Werewolf.

“After the noise died off, he retreated from
the public eye. His lab was shut down and no one heard much out of
him. I think CHAS might’ve issued a hit on him for what happened to
Mary Beth, except that his victim had been a Werewolf at the time
of her death. Again, not under CHAS’s jurisdiction. And Werewolves
have no laws governing each other like we do, so he was largely
ignored from that point on. Still, there are stories of his, shall
we say, quirks and eccentricities. It’s said he is unstable. And as
a Werewolf, that is never a good thing to be.”

“Why are you telling me all of this? I mean,
I’m grateful, but no one else would say anything except tell me to
stay away and warn me what a horrible idea it would be to seek him
out. They made it sound like he killed Mary Beth in cold
blood.”

“Some say he did. That the metals drove him
crazy and he lost his mind.”

I remembered what Logan said about the side
effects of using metal as a Hunter without proper training. I never
thought of the adverse effect it could have on a Werewolf handling
it over time. “You still haven’t answered my question,” I reminded
her, “about why you shared all this with me.”

“It’s always wise to understand all of your
options.”

“According to everyone else, this isn’t an
option.” My eyes narrowed as I tried to decipher the real meaning
of her words. “You think I should go see him, don’t you?”

“I think you’re going to do what you think
is necessary to save your friend, consequences be damned.” She
shrugged, her petite shoulders rising and falling fluidly. “At
least that’s the Tara I’ve come to know.”

She sounded amused, affectionate almost. It
reminded me of our conversation at Wood Point. She’d opened up and
told me she wanted to spend time getting to know me before her
illness overcame her. She’d told me then how strong she thought I
was, how I’d make such a great leader, if I didn’t screw up and
choose the wrong path.

I thought of my conversation with Wes the
previous night and his insane idea. The same one Vera seemed to be
suggesting. “You think I should go see him, regardless of what
everyone else thinks? Regardless of how mad they’ll be?”

“I think you wouldn’t have asked me if you
weren’t already considering it.”

I cocked my head. “And if I asked you where
I could find him, what would you say?”

“DeLuca Manor is in Nevada, about 100 miles
outside Las Vegas. A small town called Garth.”

“How do you know he’s there?”

“He hasn’t left the house in fifteen years.
He’s there.” Her eyes twinkled with something unspoken.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re
encouraging me to do this.”

“I’m simply giving you the information
necessary to make a decision. I believe a good leader is
self-reliant and is able to decide for herself, even when it means
going against the majority.”

I bit my lip. “You think I’d make a good
leader?”

“That depends entirely on the choices you
make.”

“I hate it when you talk in riddles. Wait.
When you talk like this, it usually means you’ve had a vision about
me.”

“Not a vision, exactly. I’ve had... images,”
she said slowly.

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

She frowned. “Your future has holes, dark
spots, moments where the picture is no longer clear. We both know
my gifts are no longer reliable, but my instincts tell me it’s
something else that blots you out.”

“Like what?” I asked, my fingers picking at
the edges of my shorts.

“I can’t say.” Her eyes landed on mine and
held in a piercing stare. I was too afraid to look away; to do so
felt like a confirmation of guilt. I wondered, though, with the way
she looked at me if she didn’t already know. “The holes have always
been there, but they are growing larger, darker. Is there anything
you’d like to share with me? I could help you, if you let me.”

I shook my head. “No,” I whispered.

A long moment of silence
passed, and still Vera held my gaze. The clock on the wall ticked
out a rhythm that seemed to get louder and louder, until the
deafening
click
made me blink.

“Well, then. You might be interested to
know, Fee is preparing a burial service to be held two days from
now,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “Immediately
following the service, the pack will shift and run. It’s a ritual
in the death of a pack member. No one else is invited.”

“Um, okay, thanks for telling me.” I was
trying to catch up, unsure what had brought on the sudden change in
topic.

“The house will be empty of all Werewolves
at that time. That will leave only the two of us, Cordelia, and
your two young friends.”

I sat up straighter as her implied meaning
dawned on me. Did she really mean for me to take George and run
away? To the doorstep of a mad scientist who might’ve killed a
girl?

Then I remembered: “Grandma will be here.
She’ll want to come to the service.”

“Edie received a call from CHAS this
morning. They need her to come in and consult on some sort of
school fundraising business. She’ll be back next week.”

“Oh.” I sat back, my head spinning a little
with the possibilities. I couldn’t believe it. Vera was the last
one I’d suspect of sneaking around behind the others’ backs. The
last one besides Wes, that is. And hadn’t it been his idea in the
first place? Had he actually been serious? I chewed my bottom lip,
contemplating the chances of it actually working. I sighed at the
futility of it. “They’ll know.”

“Pardon?”

“As soon as I disappear, they’ll know where
I’ve gone. They’ll only follow me and haul me back.”

“Hmm. Yes, that could be a problem. Unless,
of course, they think you went somewhere else. Somewhere they
wouldn’t easily question or wouldn’t be able to easily verify.”

“Like a diversion?”

“Precisely.”

It wasn’t the worst idea. Okay, it probably
was. But I couldn’t think of anything better. And that was the
problem, wasn’t it? Besides Wes, I was the only one even trying to
do anything about George’s impending shift.

To be fair, the rest of them were a little
preoccupied. Bailey’s death hit them hard, and I couldn’t exactly
demand they stop mourning to help me fix my own problems. It was up
to me. And this was the only option I had. And though I’d like
nothing more than to crawl into bed until I could blink without
seeing Bailey’s face in my mind, I wasn’t going to let George down.
I’d made a promise and I intended to keep it.

“A diversion,” I repeated, my thoughts
wandering as I considered possible scenarios. “But where else would
I want to go? Everyone I care about is already here …”

Vera’s eyebrows rose. That was it. She
didn’t have to say a word. The answer came immediately.

Slowly, I got to my feet. “Thank you for
your time.”

A smile ghosted Vera’s lips. “Of course.
Happy to help.”

Halfway to the door, I turned back. “Vera,
I, um, I know we haven’t spent a lot of time together, but you’ve
been a big help. I couldn’t have done this without you. Maybe when
things calm down, we could spend some time together?”

She smiled. It lit her eyes in a way that
diminished the shadow of illness that hung on her. “I would like
that very much.”

“Great. I’ll see you soon, then.” I turned
the knob and was almost out the door when she stopped me.

“Tara?” She waited until I looked back at
her. “To be accepted, one must first accept oneself.”

I blinked and slipped out.

*

I made my way back to the kitchen and found
a plate and cup by the sink, but no Cambria, no Fee. I wandered
from room to room, each one empty and still. It was an odd sound,
the quiet. Jack and Fee’s house always seemed so full—of bodies,
conversation, motion. Silence was something new.

I decided to take advantage of the alone
time and test the waters on my developing plan. I slid my phone out
and dialed a number I’d been convinced I’d never dial again. As I
listened to it ring, I slipped into the storage room and closed the
door.

Alex picked up on the fifth ring. For a
second, I thought it was his voice mail. “Make it quick, I don’t
have long.” He was breathless and grunting. The beep-beep of some
sort of machinery sang in the background.

My heart pounded at the sound of his voice,
gruff and terse as usual. “Um, sorry, I can call back if it’s a bad
time.”

“Tara?” The beeping stopped. His breathing
slowed a little. “No, it’s fine. I’m just getting in a workout
before patrols. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” I hesitated. Part of me
wanted to tell him I missed him, to ask about his new job, what
he’d been doing, everything that’d happened since we’d been apart.
I couldn’t bring myself to ask, though, when the answers included
his love for hunting Werewolves. “I, um, need a favor,” I said
instead.