Broken Blood (27 page)

I stayed quiet and when I didn’t readily supply whatever answer Wes was looking for, his gaze dropped to my cheeks, my mouth, my neck, before returning to my eyes again. And just like that, I forgot what we were discussing. All I could see was his mouth forming an unspoken question.

I was so caught.

After all this time, the mere sight of Wesley St. John, up close and personal, was enough to send my knees buckling. My muscles went liquidy and it was like an organic truth serum had leaked into my heart and escaped through my open mouth. “I’m scared,” I admitted.

Instead of judgment or pity, Wes looked back at me with relief.

“Don’t look so happy about it,” I grumbled.

He smiled. “I’m just a little shocked you actually admitted it. I thought it would be much harder than this.”

“I’m getting better at admitting my faults,” I said.

“We’re both improving,” he said. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I don’t know how it’s supposed to help,” I grumbled.

Wes leaned in and pressed a kiss to my lips. “It allows me to be here for you,” he whispered, his lips brushing mine as he spoke. “It allows me to rescue you. Something I never get to do.”

I smiled ruefully. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. I love your strength. I always have. It’s what attracted me to you in the first place. But that just means I love it even more when you show vulnerability and let me take care of you. I have an idea,” he said.

“What?” I asked, wary at the way his eyes lit up when he said the word “vulnerability.”

“You and I can watch Steppe’s speech via the video feed from the parking lot. We’ll act as lookout for the perimeter so we’ll be doing something helpful but we won’t have to spend another minute inside this building.”

“Wes, I don’t know,” I said.

He leaned in and pressed his nose to my cheek. “Come on. Edie’s got this one. Let her have it. By tomorrow, you’ll be back in charge. With any luck, we both will, and after that, we won’t have this luxury. And besides, if I play my cards right, I’m hoping I can multi-task and use the time to make out with you.”

My lips twitched. “You seriously think they’ve got this covered? That we won’t be missed if we wait outside?”

“More than covered. Besides, it’s no secret where we’re filming from. Or it won’t be once the feed goes live. Another body or two watching the exits would be a big help. What do you say?”

How did he expect me to say anything other than yes when he looked at me with those doe eyes? I sighed. “Let’s do it,” I said.

Wes grinned and planted a lingering kiss before wandering off to inform Grandma. I swayed where I stood, happily buzzed from the after-effects of Wes and his mouth. If this was what it felt like to admit my fears, I’d spill my guts every day of forever.

W
es and I ended up in the backseat of the Hummer. Leather seats made warm by a layer of blankets Wes found in the back and enough room to stretch out but hidden behind the window tinting. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to cuddle up in the back of Mr. Lexington’s creeper van and Derek’s car was way too small.

We’d spent the last hour cuddling, kissing, and reassuring each other every acorn that fell on the hood wasn’t a pack of Werewolves here to kill us. I was jumpy, though. Even parked safely outside CHAS and with everyone I knew already settled inside to protect me, I couldn’t stop seeing memories of my confinement every time I looked up at the plain gray walls.

I’d dialed back from Gordon’s awareness as much as I could, opting instead to let Cambria have control of his thoughts—and his willpower. So far, everything I allowed myself to read from him was wrapped up in what he would say when the cameras went live. I sensed a deeper part of him that was aware of his coercion and the controlled fury he felt over what he was being made to say, but Cambria’s abilities were strong. Stronger than I’d realized until now.

I was proud of her, but not without also feeling a twinge of sympathy for him. Mind control, no matter the reason, wasn’t something I readily condoned. I knew it was necessary, our only option, but I didn’t love what we were stooping to. I didn’t mention it to Wes, who seemed more concerned with linking up to the right web address in time while still holding hands. I reached over and adjusted his shirt, fastening a button he’d missed earlier.

He caught my gesture and smiled just as the screen on his phone went from black to moving color. I recognized the office I’d passed through on my way out a few days ago, the memory more of a blur of tables and chairs that appeared in sharp focus now. Grandma stood with her profile in full view, her mouth moving soundlessly as she gave instructions to someone off-camera. There was a flurry of movement and then a hum over the speakers as someone turned the sound on.

“Here we go,” Wes said, shifting in the seat to offer us both a better view of the small screen. My hand tightened in his.

The moment Steppe realized the feed was streaming, he came to life. The wrinkles around his mouth relaxed, his frown disappeared, and his shoulders lowered. He was the epitome of cool confidence—unless you knew his mind.

The bond had been a muted static for almost twenty-four hours. Even now, with curiosity pricking at me, I caught only bits and pieces. Shadows of images and lines of text he’d burrowed into his psyche while he’d studied his assigned speech during the drive over.

Grandma stepped in front of the camera again, so close her softly lined face filled the entire screen and blotted out Steppe and the rest of the room. “Hello, friends. Edie Godfrey here. If you’re watching this live stream it’s because you’ve been exclusively invited to witness the changing of Hunter policy and formal leadership under the direction and authority of CHAS and its officers.”

Grandma stepped back to gesture to the room and continued. “We’re broadcasting from the inner offices of CHAS headquarters in Washington, DC and we ask you, the viewers, to bear peaceful witness in these troubled times to a ceremony that our kind has recognized as necessary and required in order to uphold our traditions in accordance with Hunter law. Today, we bear witness.”

Grandma stepped aside and the camera followed her outstretched hand to Gordon Steppe. He stood at a small podium at the center of the room, his hands draped over the edges. He met the camera with an even stare and then smiled, full of teeth.

For a harrowing second, I wondered if he’d somehow shucked the compulsion and was operating on his own agenda. But then the camera shifted as Mr. Lexington cleared his throat to deliver the opening minutes and call the meeting to order. When he’d finished the introductions and explained the items to be brought to the council, including Olivia’s death, the camera shifted again, zooming in on Steppe as he returned to the center of the podium.

“And so we mark these changes to the law today with blood and bear witness to the spilling of the sacrifice necessary to proceed,” Mr. Lexington finished.

At the corner of the shot, blood dripped from a newly opened wound along his left palm, and then Lexington concluded his speech with a shot of The Draven sitting to Steppe’s left. Fresh blood marked the place where he’d recorded Cambria’s scripted law reversals and policy changes.

Steppe’s voice was clear and carried easily over the room. His expression was lit with that spark only really available for the truly gifted, the charming. Politicians. But better than any of that, he was convincing in the way he spoke. “Good afternoon and thank you all for tuning in to this special broadcast from CHAS headquarters,” he began.

Another acorn hit the Hummer’s roof and I jumped.

Beside me, Wes cursed and automatically scanned the empty lot, but I was glued to the performance. 

“Before I go into the details of the decision that brought me to your screen today, I’d like to talk to you about some of the things that brought us all here. Humans in general, but Hunters, especially, have been influenced by and certainly even led the way in creating the kind of world-changing, life-altering, culture-infusing technology and changes that can only come from the passionate and committed search to progress.”

In the background, someone muttered something about “narcissistic much...?” It sounded like my mother.

“In my time as board chair, progress was king. Hunters, CHAS, our esteemed scientists, we were royalty. And together, as a united front, we affected such changes as metals modified to better protect against superhuman threats, alliances made, and, best of all, a cure was found. Hybrids, turned against their will, had the option to return to their God-given form. So much progress.”

Steppe shifted and the light in his eyes took a dark turn. Something vicious sliced through the bond but I couldn’t quite reach it before he went on. I was wrapped up in his words, in their delivery, in his ability to paint himself the hero even after all he’d done. Even under compulsion.

“Cambria’s certainly making it believable, isn’t she?” Wes muttered.

I didn’t answer.

“And then, in the wake of progress, it became necessary to slow down, to realize the tension and conflict our progress had created,” Steppe said, his gaze burning into the camera. “There was strife and our united front was destroyed. We became individuals fighting singular wars. And in the wake of such destruction to our progress, we are now forced to learn forgiveness.”

The room was deadly quiet. I knew, without asking, this was the crucial moment. It wasn’t hard to guess what came next. Law reversals and successors. I held my breath.

Steppe opened his hands, palm up, exposing his bandaged wound. “I stand before you today to accept the consequences of my push for progress. To announce my resignation, name my successor, and to rescind the law that allowed for open extermination of Werewolves, hybrids or otherwise. This law has been recorded as rescinded and is, effective immediately, null and void. Werewolves will be...” His voice dropped and the last words were delivered through closed teeth and a struggle to push them out, “Tried for their crimes and a fair verdict will be awarded.”

But then his demeanor shifted again and the vicious satisfaction returned, both through his expression and through my own mental poking.

Someone moved into the edge of the shot—Cambria—and the look on her face was fierce. She whispered something to Steppe, but he ignored her. Her lips moved faster, clearly barking out some demand or order, but again, he ignored her and kept going, talking faster now. “But I’m also here today to offer something else: forgiveness of my own. It has to start somewhere, doesn’t it?”

He leaned in, his gaze and psyche all trained on one thought. His knuckles were white with strain as he gripped the edges of the podium. “Tara Godfrey, I forgive you. For your crimes against Werewolves, Hunters, and peace itself. For your crimes against me. Even now, as you coerce my hand in naming you my successor, I forgive you.”

The room erupted in shouts, all muted by Steppe’s mic and his speech, now delivered in bursts of shouting. He blinked and his arrow-tipped gaze widened to include the world itself, it seemed. “She is the dictator behind it all. She dissolved The Cause to take over CHAS herself, to make war! She has killed the other members of the board, leaving only myself at least until the end of today’s broadcast. And even in the face of her crimes, I forgive her—”

The camera jerked violently, angling away from Steppe and his microphone died. In the right corner of the screen, Steppe continued to rant from his place at the podium but none of his words could be heard over the din.

A door banged open somewhere off camera and a pair of arms darted in to snatch up The Draven.

“We have to get in there,” I said, but Wes was already out of the car and running for the doors. I kept one eye on the parking lot—still empty as far as I could see—and one on the video stream as I ran to catch up.

On screen, a table was violently upturned by a pair of hands belonging to someone I couldn’t see, chairs flew from left to right, and someone screamed. I watched, helpless, as Werewolves poured into the room from the two backdoors. Their eyes gleamed and their jaws hung open in ready. Someone ran by, momentarily obscuring the view, and then the camera shook and fell.

I looked up to see Wes standing in front of the door. I blinked, trying to understand why he hadn’t rushed inside ahead of me. Slowly, I realized he wasn’t trying to get in because he was keeping me out.

“We have to get in there,” I said, leaning around him and feeling for the handle, but Wes grabbed my arm and held me back.

“No. They’re here for you,” he said. “Look.” He pointed at the screen, where a roomful of Werewolves now surrounded my friends and family. “They’re leaving Steppe alone. He called you out and now they want—”

Even as he said it, a gray wolf leaped into the picture, paws out, claws extended, and landed on Steppe. They tumbled backward with Steppe on bottom. Limbs struggled helplessly against paws as they fought.

Cambria grunted as a book case fell in front of her. She jerked backward and stared at where Steppe lay, grappling. I felt the moment the compulsion was broken. So did Steppe. The bond sprang up between us, a rushing current of panic and terror and pain. I felt Steppe reaching to crawl out from under the Werewolf ... and I felt the moment he knew it wouldn’t do a bit of good.

“You ... win,” I heard him whisper and the words were like a sledgehammer to my mental defenses.

I dropped to my knees on the cracked asphalt, the echo of his pain just as great as the pain itself. I could feel the slice of claws down his torso. Its teeth as they sank into his throat and ripped his flesh free.

“Tara,” Wes said, dropping beside me and cradling me against him. I watched in helpless horror as the video continued to play out the gruesome scene. My throat pulsed, my heart sped along with his, struggling with the added effort of pumping blood onto the floor rather than through his jugular.

I cried out as he sucked in a sharp breath and then the bond ripped free as he died and I crumpled against Wes, automatically curling in on myself for protection. Wes scooped me up and carried us both to the overhang next to the building’s entrance. He tucked us in against the wall and lowered us both to the ground.