Successors (28 page)

“Is he in pain?” she asked.

“Yes,” Danato said without hesitation, “tremendous pain.” She wasn’t surprised by his honesty, but in this particular case she wished he had underemphasized the truth.

Her tears had dried up. The salty flesh under her eyes burned, just as irritated by the cumulative emotional assaults as her mind was. “What’s happening to him?”

“His muscle tissues are liquefying.” Her mouth gaped. She stared expectantly at Danato. “The transformations require absorption of water to allow the muscles to expand to that size. Until then, the muscle is compact and short. When the muscles swell they expand and lengthen, making him bigger and stronger.”

Danato must have realized her brain was far too foggy to understand what he was saying, because he seemed to stop mid-thought and backpedal for her. “I could go on for days about their anatomy, but the bottom line is, his muscles won’t be able to retract anymore. They will just swell.” He paused, looking back at the beast. “And swell. Until…” He never finished the sentence. He looked down at his feet. She saw him close his eyes and tense his jaw. She hadn’t known Danato to be anything but reserved in his sentiments, but she thought perhaps he was fighting back his own tears at that moment.

Her mind being so thick with grief at the prospect of Vince dying, it took her a moment to register Danato’s last words. She shook her head as if her ears were culpable for her lagging comprehension. “They won’t retract?” She said it out loud, but it was still just her brain trying to interpret the words. “They won’t go back to normal? He won’t go back?” Her eyes shot up to Danato, begging and pleading for that not to be the right words.

Danato’s face melted at her obvious pain. She started shaking her head even before he answered. “No, sweetheart, he will die as a wolf.” She started hyperventilating. Her lower lip trembled. “We will bury him as a wolf. We will remember him as a man.”

She gaped at the monster before her. He wasn’t even a shell of the man she knew, but that was all that she had left of her lover. She would never see, hear, or touch Vince ever again.

She wasn’t aware of taking any steps back from Danato. The ache in her chest was as far away from her as her racing heart. The room spun and she shifted her stance to accommodate, but her legs gave out.

A strong arm caught her around the back. One of the guards lifted her back to her feet. He supported her a moment, before she nodded, giving her approval to let go.

She looked at the floor, consciously slowing her breathing and decelerating her heart. She looked at Danato, who had since closed the breach between them. “There’s no reason to be here,” she said. “There’s nothing here for me.”

He nodded and looped her arm around his before walking her out.

56

Cori stepped into the house and was flooded with memories good and bad. It was less than a year ago that she had slept, ate, and bathed in this house. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She had expected it to feel like home, but nothing felt like home without Vince.

Danato removed his long coat and slipped the borrowed cloak off her shoulders. Without a chance to pack before being collected, she was back to being without a decent wardrobe.

She paused in the entryway to look over everything, while Danato proceeded to the kitchen to make tea. She wandered around the large open living and dining space touching things, pretending to be interested in them.

The decorations were the same as they had always been, the consummate hunter’s lodge. One would never have guessed antlers could be used for so much. She was certain, however, that a fireplace without a bearskin rug was simply sinful, no matter what your motif was.  

When she had nothing left to touch, she sat at the table with Danato and waited for the teapot to whistle. She stared into nothingness, trying to grasp onto some sense of now. Coming into the house, she felt like she had been gone a hundred years. Now, sitting at the table next to Danato, she had to remind herself that Vince and her time away wasn’t just a dream she had.

“I suppose I’m your slave again,” she posed when no other topic seemed pressing.

“Don’t worry about that now. We’ll figure that out later,” Danato said, reaching across the corner of the table to squeeze her hand.

She looked down at his hand. She was vaguely aware of the pressure and the genuine sympathy, possibly even empathy, radiating from his grasp. She knew she needed to be comforted, but everything seemed so distorted. Her mind kept going back to the same thought.
He’s dead.

She tried to cycle through an inventory of events that may transpire now that she was back at the prison, but her mind kept going back.
He’s dead.

More than a thought, it was a whisper in the back of her mind that only spoke to interrupt her effort at concentration, like when someone says your name in a crowded room. You don’t actually hear it, but it gets your attention anyway.
He’s dead.

Cori shivered at the creepy repetition and decided that thinking about the future would have to wait for now. She would have to rely on the present to get her through this. She looked around, suddenly aware that something, or rather someone, was missing. “Where’s Ethan? I’m surprised he’s not studying by the fire.” She rubbed her face, wiping away what felt like a layer of salt built up on her cheeks.

Danato’s brow deepened into bewilderment. “What do you mean? You saw him in there.”

She shook her head. “No, I must have missed him.”

“You didn’t recognize him.” Danato gave a hint of a proud smile. “He’s moved past studying. He’s one of my guards now. Rather a fine leader, if you can believe that. He was the one who took down Vin… the werewolf.”

Her eyes shifted from his; she obviously wasn’t as proud of that moment as Danato was. “It’s kind of a blur.”

“He also kept you on your feet when you nearly collapsed in there.”

Her eyes flickered as she tried to match her memory of Ethan to the man who helped her. All she remembered was the strength in his arms as he caught her. She had the tangible memory of his body pressed on hers as he kept her upright. His emergent muscles were now taut and robust. “He’s changed… a lot.”

“Yes.” The teapot whistled and Danato moved to the stove. He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and poured them each a cup of water. He brought the mugs over in one hand and carried his tea box with the other. She opened the wooden box and selected a fruity herbal tea. Danato took an Earl Grey.

She dipped the bag and waited for the color to change before releasing the bag to float on its own. “I haven’t changed much, have I?” she asked.

Danato set his cup to one side to steep. “I don’t know yet. I imagine any change I might have observed yesterday would be irrelevant today.”

She nodded. She stood, taking her tea in hand. “My room is still available, right?”

“Of course.” He stood with her.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll have my tea up there.” She knew he would have preferred to sit with her, to console her as needed, but her social strength was steadily draining dry. She could feel her tears replenish, and she preferred to wallow in her misery alone.

“If you need anything, I’m here. Anything,” he said.

She tried to smile, but her cheeks wouldn’t hold it. “There will likely be a knock or a phone call later tonight,” she said. “I don’t need to know about it.”

He nodded understanding. “I know it doesn’t mean much right now, but I am sorry.”

“Thank you.” She headed upstairs for some much needed solitude.

57

  Ethan arrived home late that night. Danato had
waited up
for him. His head was tipped back on his chair, glasses askew, and a newspaper was laid over his chest like a blanket. His snore sounded like a bear growl.

Ethan slipped the paper off him and folded it neatly before placing it on the coffee table. He removed Danato’s glasses and set them on the side table.

He looked up at the open loft to Cori’s closed bedroom door. He trudged upstairs and stood outside her door. He raised his hand to knock, but paused. He wanted more than anything to be there for her, to comfort her.

As much as he hated Vince for taking her away, he didn’t wish death on him. Especially the death Ethan had just witnessed.

After another moment’s thought he lowered his fist and retreated to his own bedroom. As appealing as it was to his selfish ego to hold her while she mourned, he didn’t want her to permanently ingrain him in her memories as the man who delivered the news of her lover’s death.

58

Ethan stared at his breakfast of overdone eggs. The over-greased pan had made the edges positively black with crisp and the insides were no longer a creamy orange-yellow, but a powdery pale yellow. Danato was about to dig into his, but he saw the expression on Ethan’s face. “What?”

“You burned them again,” he said, unable to hide the disfavor in his voice.

“I thought you liked them hard.” Danato’s brow creased.

“No,
you
like them hard. I like them soft.”

“Oh, right. Well, you can make them soft tomorrow and I’ll eat them without complaint.” Danato took a big bite.

Ethan glanced up at the loft. He kept hoping she would come out and join them, but she hadn’t yet.

Danato lowered his fork to his plate and swallowed. “I knew this wasn’t about eggs.”

“What?” Ethan pushed his plate away but didn’t meet Danato’s eyes.

“I can’t believe you still get in a tizzy over her after this long.”

“What are you talking about? The eggs are hard. They are always hard. I hate hard eggs. If I wanted hard eggs I would hard-boil them.”

Danato took a bite and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He leaned back in his chair as he finished chewing, all the while reading Ethan like a book. “You never mentioned the eggs until today, though. The eggs never bothered you enough to complain until today. What’s bugging you?”

Ethan shook his head and bit his lip. “She’s been in there for three days.”

“She just lost the man she loves,” Danato said.

“Yes, but she hasn’t eaten.”

“I leave her a tray, she takes what she wants.”

“What about her duties? Is there a freeloader program I don’t know about?” Ethan flinched hearing the words come out of his mouth.

Danato’s eyes narrowed on him. “What’s gotten into you? It’s been 3 days, not 3 weeks, not 3 months. When she feels like peeling herself out of bed, we’ll give her some duties to keep her busy. Have some sympathy.”

“I have sympathy,” he said calmly, trying to smooth out the ruffles in Danato’s feathers. “I just don’t think locking herself in her room for days on end is a healthy grieving process.”

To his surprise Danato’s expression got even colder. “Oh, really? And you’ve mourned a dead lover, have you?”

Ethan debated whether to stay quiet or risk sticking his foot deeper into his mouth. “There are a lot of questions that we need answers to.”
This little piggy went to market.

“We or you?”

“Both.”
This little piggy stayed home.

“Like what?” Danato sat back to listen to his queries.

“Is she back? Is she staying? Are we going to pretend the last nine months didn’t happen?” Ethan paused, once again rethinking the size of his foot. “I just don’t really want her to stay here if you’re going to let her run off with another boyfriend, without consequence.”
This little piggy ate crow.

Danato frowned and pushed out his chest. “I will deal with Cori when the time is right.” His voice was low, only threatening to be loud. “The key word there:
I
. You are not to concern yourself with her. When you’re the warden, you can deal with people as you see fit. Until then, eat your damn eggs!”

Ethan knew he was poking the bear, but he couldn’t help but be bitter about the situation. Cori was supposed to stay at the prison just like him. Losing her was too hard the first time, he didn’t want her to come back in and get comfortable just so she could take off again.

He pulled a charred egg off his plate and stuffed it into his mouth. He chewed it forcefully. He paused in mid-chew. “Wait.” He sputtered food as he spoke. “What do you mean, when I’m the warden? Why would I be the warden?”

Danato’s face hinted at a surprise party he had just given away, but he composed himself enough to sound aloof. “What do you think you’re training for?”

“I get to run this place?” Ethan hadn’t really considered running the prison. He had long since accepted his lot in life as slave labor, but the prospect of running the prison felt like the burden of servitude was being lifted.

“Not until I retire and only if you pass the final test.”

“When will that be?” Ethan asked.

“Whenever you’re ready, I suppose, or whenever I am.”