Weregirl (20 page)

Femke nods, but she doesn’t look optimistic. “That could happen at any time.”

“Or not for seven days.” I pat the files in my jacket, tongue freed by renewed hope.

“What’s with the week thing?” Syd looks back and forth between us.

“It has been documented,” Femke says, “it can take up to seven days for a revenant to change, but there will be manifestations before that time, Charlotte.”

“Maybe we can hide them from my grandfather.” I’m more than willing to stand guard over Sage until a solution can be worked out. Even if he bites me, he can’t do me further damage. I am immune to his infection.

Or am I?

“That won’t work, and you know it.” Femke lays one hand on my shoulder. “Unless we can find a real solution, Sage only has until the revenant takes over the first time. And then, we have to destroy him.”

It’s not her fault, and she doesn’t deserve my hate. Especially when that feeling should be aimed inward. But I can’t help it, she’s giving up on him so easily. Giving up on me.

And in that moment, as the Council Leader who is supposed to be my friend tells me it’s over for the one I love, I make a decision and calm descends.

“What about Caine and his people?” If they are revenants, and there is a cure or a solution in them, Femke might be able to coerce them to cooperate, something I know Caine will never do willingly. I still believe he is the one who bit Sage, if only to get back at me for my rejection. And as I remember the bite my grandfather gave him, my mind grasps it’s the same shoulder. Proof enough to me. As I think about it further, if my supposition is correct and he and his pack were created, the solution to Sage’s problem could be in my grasp.

“What about them?” Femke shakes her head. “They aren’t revenants, Charlotte. I’ve had my people look into them. And even if they were, there is no way they would have survived this long.”

“Unless a sorcerer really did figure this out.” Syd is on my side, just like always.

“I find that hard to believe,” Femke says. “Considering the revenants we’ve been uncovering.”

No, she can’t be right. She can’t be.

The answers are out there. But I might have to go to California to find them. And there is no way I’m leaving Sage here to face his death alone while I try to hunt a cure.

Which means there’s only one thing I can do.

“Thank you for trying.” I pull free of Syd at last, stepping back from her, from Femke. They both seem startled, Syd a little hurt by my retreat and frowning at my sudden change of composure. “But my grandfather is right. This is werebuisness. And since there is no cure for what is happening to Sage, it’s time for you all to go.”

Femke tries to reach for me, but I won’t allow her access and rather than push the issue, she pulls back and turns away, heading for the stairs. Presumably to tell my grandfather the bad news.

Syd stays where she is, Piers watching the two of us as Phon and Lula go after Femke. Sebastian leaves as well, head down, hands clasped behind his back. A swift glare from the Hayle leader sends my sorcerer friend on retreat, too, until it’s just Syd and I in the hall outside Sage’s room.

“What are you doing?” Her scowl deepens as she tries to hold me with magic. I bat her power away, the cold of my training finally coming to save me. My mother’s voice is in my head, telling me I’m a silly girl, to hide my pain from those who can’t help me. And she’s right.

“Nothing,” I say. “It’s over.”

“It’s not.” Syd’s voice carries despite the hissing whisper of it. “Sage is my friend, Charlotte. I won’t let him die here because some asshat decided to make an example of him.”

I stare at her, mute and stiff until she shakes her head, hands running through her dark hair.

“Damn it,” she sighs, all the fight running out of her. “If you had just told me, maybe I could have kept him in Wilding Springs.”

My fault. All my fault.

She seems to realize what she’s said and jerks her head up. “No,” she says. “I’m sorry, that was the stupidest thing I’ve ever said in my entire life. I do enough of the whole beating of Syd to know where you’re going in your mind right now.” She pokes me firmly with one finger. “This is not your fault, and don’t you dare blame yourself.”

I can’t speak. I must hold my coldness to me and not allow cracks to show.

Syd hugs me, but I don’t hug her back. When she pulls away, I do manage a few words.

“I’m sorry to have dragged you into this. Thank you for coming.”

I’ve hurt her worse than ever, I can see it on her face. But I can’t think of her as the four wereguards with the stretcher appear in the hall and go into Sage’s room. I force myself to remain still as they carry him out, my gaze finding his face. He looks peaceful at least, no hint of the evil lurking inside him showing.

Not yet, at least.

“Where will they take him?” Syd watches them go, voice low and aching.

“To the dungeons,” I say, crisp, grateful for my years of obedience and the shielding of my emotions I used to use so easily. The woman who helped me knock down those walls stands close to me, longing for my comfort as I long for hers almost breaking my will. But I persevere, keeping my mother’s teachings closer to me than I have for years as Sage and his carriers disappear down the stairs. “He will be observed until he changes the first time and then he will be killed and his body burned.”

“Fire.” Syd spits the word. “It’s always damned fire, isn’t it?”

I don’t respond. She seems to want to say more, but I’m closed to her and she knows it.

“I’m not giving up on him,” she says. “But I have to check into some things. There has to be an answer.”

I shrug. “Do as you choose,” I say. “Pack law will do the rest.”

She looks like she wants to hit me, but instead her power flares, a gap appearing in the veil. “Don’t shut me out, Charlotte.” Her magic is warm but angry as she hugs me with it. “Not me, of all people. We’ll find a way.”

I watch her go without comment, and as the veil closes behind her, I nod.

She might have her own plans, but I’ve my own to enact. There is a way. And I’m going to make it.

***

Oleksander’s anger is nothing versus my silence and he eventually sends me from him after only a short time. When he called for me after Sage was taken down to the cells, I went willingly. But I chose not to allow my grandfather’s disappointment and judgment stop me from my path.

I must save Sage.

I leave the throne room as silently as I entered and head for the hall on the other side of the main staircase. Werewolves avoid my eyes, my witch and vampire friends now gone. I have no support here, it seems, my people no longer trusting me. Let them believe what they like. Let them believe Caine or Andre Dumont. They can all burn in hell for all I care.

Have I really written off my entire race for the love of one normal man?

Yes. Yes, I have.

I’m stopped at the bottom of the narrow staircase leading to the dungeons. I’ve been here many times before, as a child to be shown the error of disobeying, often left in a cage for days at a time with no food or water, only my werewolf strength and resiliency to keep me alive. And again, when I returned after the breaking of my bond to Syd, once again under the cruel hand of the Czar and his sorcerers.

But this is the first time I’ve ventured down here as a free werewolf. And I like it even less. There is something about it that makes me feel powerless, so when Roman appears at the base of the stairs and holds up one hand, I pause without thinking to do otherwise.

“You’re not permitted here.” His teeth flash in the light, tattoos traveling up his neck toward the dark stubble on his face making him appear like an ancient, carved idol.

But he’s not alone, and when Maksym’s face joins his, heavy hand pulling Roman back, I start my final descent, reaching the cold stone floor as the pair face off.

“Who says?” Maks bristles. I believe his guilt over being involved in this mess is making him aggressive.

Roman just snarls as though unaccustomed to being questioned.

“Since when were you made a wereguard?” Please, Grandfather. Oh, please.

“The king has welcomed our pack,” Roman says with a flat smile. “Sorry you missed it.”

That’s it. Oleksander is either senile or he’s so clever I can’t see his end game. But I can’t worry about my grandfather right now, or the werenation, or anything else. Not when my heart hurts behind bars just a few feet away.

“Out of the way, both of you.” I push them aside with measured power, taking in Roman’s hate and Maks’s sadness at my harsh treatment of him. “Or call for my grandfather. Pick one.”

Neither moves so I step past them and deeper into the hallway. The first cell is occupied, I don’t have to go far to stand before the bars and look in on Sage.

He’s awake, sitting on the edge of the narrow wooden bunk creaking under his weight, the chains holding it to the wall swaying slightly. My hand rises and grips the bars, whitening, bones jutting outward as my only physical display of distress appears through my grasp on that iron bar.

Sage looks up, bleary eyed, but clear and aware. He stands and comes to me, wary at first. But he must see something in my eyes that pulls him closer because he gives up his suspicion and ends up with one of his own hands holding the same bar I do, just below mine. I look down at his strong fingers, his big hand and just managed to suppress a shudder.

“Charlie.” He whispers my name. “What the hell?”

“I have a long story to tell you,” I whisper back. “And you’re not going to believe or even understand most of it. But you have the right to know what’s happening to you.”

I gesture for him to sit, but he won’t leave my proximity, leaning forward until his forehead is pressed to the space between the bars. “I can handle it,” he says. “If it explains how I ended up in a dungeon with a wolf bite and a death sentence.”

He’s so calm, I almost weep for him. How can he be so composed at a time like this? But that is Sage and I’m grateful he’s willing to listen instead of flying off into a rage.

I tell him, explaining as carefully as I can about werewolves and magic and witches. He listens, face blank, though occasionally his green eyes widen and one brow arches before settling again.

Neither of us moves as I walk him through my history, some of the past years I’ve spent with Syd and who she really is. Maybe it’s not my place to share that information, but Sage has to know everything if what I’m going to attempt has a chance of working.

When I finally tell him of the revenants, he nods once.

“So I’m going to turn into a slavering psychopath without a soul, hell bent on converting everyone I can get my hands on into being just like me?” Sage’s hand slips upward, skin touching mine.

“Something like that,” I say. “Unless.”

He stays still. “Unless?”

“We can find a cure.” I catch Roman listening from my peripheral vision. “Syd and the others are still working on it.”

“But if there was hope, I would still be upstairs,” Sage says, “and not down here.”

I don’t comment. I can’t, not with Caine’s spy hovering, watching my every move.

Sage must sense my reticence, because he doesn’t press me. “So now what?”

“We wait for you to turn the first time,” I say. “They can’t kill you until it happens. Pack law.”

He barks a laugh, making me jump. “How kind of them.” His anger shows for the first time as he pulls free of the bar and spins, going to his bunk. Sage stands there, head down, shoulders bowed as I try to find something to say.

All I can think of is how different the revenant in the woods felt. How Sage doesn’t have the dark scent I associate with the bodies in the morgue. And my mind drifts to our healing, to the salvation of my race. To Syd and our freedom.

Could shedding the sorcery that contained us have changed the way revenants emerge? I gasp softly to myself. No, I won’t allow hope. I must, instead, embrace determination and my willingness to give up everything. If the time comes I can explore such an idea, I will take it. Maybe hand it over to Syd or Femke to look into.

I have a more important job to do.

Sharlotta
. Oleksander’s mental voice is dark and heavy, but he doesn’t have the same anger in him he did earlier.
Your vampire friends are returned
.

Coming
. I hate to leave Sage, but it won’t be for long. “I have to go.”

He doesn’t turn, just nods. I want to tell him not to be afraid, that I’ll be back for him, very soon. But I can’t. And it’s better if he doesn’t know what I have planned.

The throne room feels as oppressive as his cell as I enter to find Sebastian and Alison talking with my grandfather. Sebastian looks up as I come in, smiling softly at me.

“I have an idea,” he says before Oleksander can speak. “If Sage will be willing.”

“If it will save his life,” I say.

“It may.” Sebastian nods to his silent companion. “It was Alison’s idea and I must say I’m embarrassed I didn’t think of it.”

She blushes past her paleness and bobs a nod to me. “I was thinking, we could make him a vampire.”

I gape at her and then at Sebastian, echoing his sentiment. Why didn’t I consider such a possibility myself?

“There are no promises it will work,” the handsome vampire tells me and my grandfather. Am I wrong or does Oleksander look more eager about this offering of assistance than I thought he would? “But we can certainly make the effort if it will mean his life.”

“You’re offering him an out?” What is Caine doing here? I turn to snarl at him, but he ignores me, injecting himself, unwelcome, into our conversation as I remember Roman’s words. Wereguards. Members of our court, now, officially. Why did Oleksander keep this from me?

Because he knew I’d fight him on it.

Caine’s heavy disapproval settles on my grandfather. “Haven’t you already given enough time and energy to this normal than is required by pack law?”

Oleksander looks like he wants to argue, but he simply shrugs. “What is one more attempt to save this boy?”