Blood Bond (37 page)

Grief was the elephant in the room.

Instead of acknowledging it, we spoke of
battle. Of justice.

It was only a matter of time until words
turned to action, a dam whose foundation was slowly cracking, but
it was easier to let it fade from my concern. I had Wes. I had my
friends. I had everything I needed.

One week into July, the dam broke. It
started with Vera. She’d taken to watching my sessions with Jack
from the window. Fee would prop her bed up and lift the blinds so
she wouldn’t have to move. I’d only been at it a few minutes, but
already I was frustrated.

“Jack, face it, this isn’t going to work,” I
said.

His response—another reassurance to try
again, no doubt—was interrupted by a tapping on the window. When I
turned to look, Vera motioned at us. I followed Jack inside and
through the door to Vera’s room.

“What’s up?” Jack asked. His broad shoulders
took up the entire doorway.

“Both of you, come in here,” she said.

“Did you find something?”
Jack asked, gesturing to the stack of
Dravens
lying open on the
table.

“Maybe. Shut the door.”

I did as she asked, and she waved me closer.
“All the way over. I need to see something,” she said. I walked to
the edge of her bed, and she leaned over so her face almost touched
my shirt and sniffed.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I thought so.” She looked up sharply at
Jack. “Get George.”

“Why?” I asked.

Jack’s brow wrinkled, but he left the
room.

“Why do you need George?” I repeated.

“I have a theory,” she said.

The door reopened. George stepped through,
Jack behind him. “What’s going on?” George asked.

“I want you to try something for me,” she
said, directing her gaze at George. “I want you to go outside and
shift in front of Tara.”

“What? Why?” he asked.

“Because I suspect you’re wrong about Tara’s
trigger,” she said. “I don’t think she responds to threats or
violence. I think it’s you.” She pointed at George.

“Me?” he echoed, clearly confused with her
logic. I wasn’t following, either.

“Vera, I’ve been around George plenty of
times and not had the urge to shift,” I said.

“Yes, but not when he was a Werewolf.”

“I’ve been around other Werewolves without
any reaction lots of times.”

“But George isn’t just any Werewolf,” she
pointed out.

“You think my trigger is hybrids?” As soon
as I asked the question, I knew.

That night at school with Wes, Victoria’s
parents in the road, their attack on me at Astor’s … Maybe she was
right. If so, what about that day on the highway? Coming home from
school, when I’d had to run behind the gas station. Had there been
a hybrid around?

“You up for it?” George asked. I could feel
him probing my mood with the bond. I knew he’d sense my curiosity
and more than a little anxiety. Being near a hybrid might be my
trigger, but I also had a history of turning on them.

I took a steadying breath. “It’s worth a
shot,” I said.

“Come on, then.” Jack started for the door
but Vera stopped him.

“Let them go alone,” she said.

They shared a look. Something passed between
them. He nodded. “All right, I’ll be right here if you need me,” he
said. “But if you manage to shift, I’m coming out.”

I nodded. George and I went outside while
Vera and Jack watched from the window. I kicked some pads and
equipment out of the way and stood in the grass. George stood
facing me, not too close. I backed up a few more steps. His brows
went up.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Tay,” he
said.

“I know that.”

He shook his head. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

I tried to project the right emotions so he
wouldn’t see through to my fear. It must’ve worked because a second
later, his form shimmered at the edges, like a pool of water after
a rock being thrown. When it settled, he was a wolf. His shoulders
were broader than I remembered, his coat lighter.

“You’re bigger,” I said.

He grinned, flashing a lot of sharp, white
teeth. “I’ve been running a lot. You’ve gotta try it when you’re …
you know. It’s the coolest feeling ever.”

I ignored his reference to my shifting. That
weird tingly feeling in the back of my neck returned, leaving a
headache. “Your coat is lighter,” I said.

“The sun, I think.” He took a step toward me
and I scrambled back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I—” The tingling in my neck
intensified.

“You’re fighting it again, aren’t you?” he
asked.

“No,” I argued. I rubbed my shoulder
absently.

“Do you feel sort of prickly on your neck?”
he asked.

“Maybe.”

“That’s normal. Just give in to it. You’ll
be fine.”

“It hurts.”

“Only because you keep pushing it down. Just
let it come.”

Tears sprang to my eyes. I blinked them
back. He was right; something inside me kept rising to the surface,
and each time I pushed it down, terrified if I let it out, I’d hurt
someone again. “I’m scared,” I whispered.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to
you,” he said. He took another step.

Alarm shot through me. I backed toward the
woods. “I’m not worried about me,” I said. “I’m worried about
you.”

George’s expression changed from relaxed to
fierce, and for a second, I wondered what I’d said to make him so
angry. But then I didn’t have time to wonder anymore because he
sprang, baring his teeth and snarling. I jumped and rolled out of
the way just in time, barely missing his claws as he sailed past
me.

I sat up, confused, to the sound of the back
door slamming open and the sound of Wes’s name being called. I
looked up in time to see Jack hurl himself off the steps, rippling
into a wolf in midair. He sprinted toward me, his eyes intent. It
wasn’t until he passed me and launched himself at something over my
shoulder that I realized we weren’t alone.

This was the real reason for the prickling
on my neck.

Behind me, George was surrounded by four
Werewolves, each one snapping at his ankles when his back was
turned. Jack waded into the middle of their circle without
hesitation. His teeth closed around one of the Werewolves’ throats.
It let out a mangled yelp as Jack bit down.

I got to my feet and grabbed the closest
thing I could find. It looked like half of a dowel rod. I wasn’t
sure what Jack had intended it for, because it wasn’t sharp or
particularly scary-looking, but I didn’t have time to find
something better. I rushed toward the fight, weapon—sort of—in
hand. The tingling against my neck threatened to distract me. I
gritted my teeth and pushed forward.

Wes came barreling out the door, already
shifting.

We reached the others at the same time. I
barely had a chance to process the yellow eyes of our attackers
before a familiar voice called out to me from inside the woods.

“Tara Godfrey.”

I faltered, searching for the speaker. Wes
pulled up short, his hip shoved against me protectively.

“Show yourself,” I called.

Mr. and Mrs. Lexington stepped clear of the
trees, both human. Finally, after weeks of wondering how and where
they’d find me, I knew. It made me more relieved than afraid. Wes
pressed against me, his shoulders bunched, ready to spring. I
grabbed him by the scruff and clamped down. “Not yet,” I
whispered.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Mr. Lexington
said.

“I knew you’d come,” I said. “I see you
brought friends.” I tried to sound unconcerned, but I sensed
George’s anxiety building. He wasn’t experienced with this sort of
thing. He was scared.

“Insurance,” Mr. Lexington said, waving a
dismissive hand. “It will be me who delivers you.”

I yanked back against Wes’s attempt to run
at him. “I’m not afraid of you,” I said.

Mr. Lexington’s eyes flickered to George and
he sniffed. Mrs. Lexington placed her hand on his arm, but she
didn’t speak.

“I smell fear,” he said. “You have
twenty-four hours.”

Something within the bond shifted.
Relief.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the
last yellow-eyed hybrid fall to the ground in front of George. His
muzzle was strained red. None of the hybrids moved where they lay
scattered. George and Jack, both winded, turned their attention to
the Lexingtons. I read George’s intent loud and clear. Attack. I
had no doubt Jack intended the same.

“Wait,” I called. “What will you do if I
don’t agree?”

“To you? Nothing. Olivia wants you alive. To
your family, your friends …” He hesitated. I could see the
indecision, the battle within him. That, more than anything, made
my stomach clench. “They won’t be so lucky.”

“I don’t believe you,” I shouted, stuck
halfway between pissed and scared.

“And your mother? All alone in her flower
shop across town? Can you protect her while you protect your human
friends? Samantha and Angela? Can you be everywhere?”

My gut tightened. I couldn’t breathe. Wes
stilled underneath my hands. I swallowed, trying to find my
voice.

“What did you do?” George demanded.

“Nothing yet. Twenty-four hours. We’ll be
back to collect you then. Cordelia too.”

“Cord?” Wes asked. “What do you want with
her?”

“Master requested it,” he said with a
shrug.

Rage, hotter than any flame, welled up
inside me at his cavalier attitude. I let go of Wes and took a step
toward Mr. Lexington. He narrowed his eyes, suspicious and wary. I
didn’t care if he saw me coming. “All you’ve done is issued death
threats. Why don’t you come over here and I’ll show you what it
tastes like?”

I couldn’t remember making a conscious
decision to attack, but that’s what I did. One second I was
standing still, white-hot anger lacing my veins and bringing them
to a boil. The next, I was running at Mr. Lexington, the wooden
dowel rod raised over my head. I watched him crouch and then shift
to a wolf, the fabric of his clothing falling down around him in
chunks. His eyes glowed hotter the closer I got. He opened his
mouth and growled, his teeth grimy and pointed.

My insides burned and stretched as I ran. My
bones pressed against my skin, straining to lengthen, to change.
Canines dropped, breaking the skin along my bottom lip, drawing
blood. Still, I ran, wanting only to wrap my hands—which ended in
pointed claws now—around Mr. Lexington’s throat and squeeze.

I never made it far enough.

“Tara, no!”

A furry body slammed into me, and I went
down. My shoulders made a hollow thud as they hit hard earth. The
air whooshed out of me and for a moment, the blue sky framed above
me danced with pricks of light.

Everything seemed to slow down, as if I’d
been sucked into a vacuum. The noise and activity went on around me
as if nothing had changed. Only I was affected by whatever force
held me still. The rage inside me didn’t dull. I still wanted
nothing more than to get up and finish what I’d started—how dare he
threaten my friends?—but all I could do was lie there, and
listen.

I could hear voices now, hurried and harsh
in the way they spoke to each other. The first one I recognized was
Derek. “… didn’t see. They were too fast,” he was saying.

“There could be more. Our priority is
securing the house,” Wes said. “Get Fee.”

“Here I am,” Fee said. “Where do you want
me?”

“You take east and I’ll take west. Five
minutes. No more,” Derek said.

The noise faded, replaced by a sort of
rushing sound that was like no sound at all. Rage faded in again,
blocking the rest out. I struggled to stand, to fight. At once, a
pair of massive paws landed against my shoulders, pinning me.

Voices penetrated.

“…
to call them. Cord will
go to Sam’s. I’ll go to Angela.”

“What about Tara?” George asked. The worry
in his voice leaked through into the bond between us and threatened
to overwhelm me.

“She’ll be fine. This happened once before
…” Wes trailed off. I could hear him hesitating.

“I know about the attack at school,” George
said. “She told me.”

“Right, that. She’ll come out of it
eventually. Probably won’t remember much, though. Just keep an eye
on her.”

“I should shift back, call the girls,”
George said.

“You’re not supposed to be here, remember?
Get Cambria.”

A second later, I heard, “Here I am. What—?
Oh. What the hell? She’s…”

“Yeah, we know,” Wes said. “No time. Get her
phone.”

Hands groped at my hips. I heard a snarl and
realized it came from my own throat. The paws bore down. A hand
reached into my pocket and took my phone.

“You’re phone leader,” Wes said. “Call me if
you hear anything. Then call Cord. The rest will check in with
you.”

“What the hell’s a phone leader?” Cambria
asked.

Wes huffed once. “Ask Vera. I have to
go.”

The voices fell silent. I couldn’t
understand, not like I knew I should. I needed to know what was
happening, to me—and to the others. Had they gotten the Lexingtons?
Were Sam and Angela safe? My mother?

Finally, the haze fell
away, and I could
think
again. I could move. The first thing I did was
struggle against the pressure of George’s paws on my shoulders, but
he didn’t budge. His weight bore down, making it hard for me to
breathe.

“Get off me,” I said through gritted
teeth.

“Are you … you?” George asked, peering down
at me, his eyes wary.

“I’m me,” I assured him. He didn’t look
convinced. “Where’s Wes? Where’s Mr. Lexington?”

“Gone.”

“Gone where?” Panic threatened. George’s
worry spiked through our bond and I fought to keep my emotions in
check. I wanted him convinced. I wanted him off me.