Wolfsbane (36 page)

Sabine’s smile broadened. “See, Bryn knows.”

Bryn nodded. “You’re right—of course, you’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t realize . . .”

She looked at me, guilt painting her cheeks rosy. “I just always thought it would be Ren.”

“But . . . how?” I couldn’t believe I had to throw that pleading question at Sabine.

“It’s simple, real y.” Sabine shook my now limp fingers off her wrist and began shearing my locks once again. “We al know that alphas can’t be, wel , promoted for lack of a better word. Alphas are born.

Shay’s always been an alpha, but he wasn’t a wolf.

When you made him one, it put him in the running.”

Sabine was right. Alphas couldn’t be promoted.

That was part of the reason the Keepers’ solution to their Guardian troubles in Vail would be such a mess. But I couldn’t make the connection to Shay’s role in al of this.

Bryn smacked her palm against her forehead. “I’m an idiot.”

“Wel , I must be too,” I snapped. “Because I’m stil not fol owing.”

“You’re not fol owing because you are an alpha, Cal.” She offered me a sympathetic smile. “Shay’s always felt like an equal to you, right? He talks to you on your level, has never backed down if you chal enged him?”

I chewed on my lower lip. “I guess I thought that was just a human thing. That he didn’t know any better because he wasn’t one of us.”

“Nope,” Sabine said. “It’s an alpha thing.”

Bryn threaded her fingers through mine. “Ren always saw Shay as a competitor. Even he must have known.”

“And he was right,” Sabine said, pul ing strands of my hair between her fingers to measure their length.

“You chose Shay.”

“What?” This time the scissors did scratch my neck. “Ow!”

“Don’t jerk like that.” Sabine tilted my head. “No blood. I’m stil cutting.”

“I didn’t choose Shay,” I said, fingering the tender skin. “I was saving his life.”

“I didn’t mean the sacrifice,” Sabine said. “I meant last night.”

I managed not to skewer myself on the scissors, but I gripped the edges of the chair.

“Last night?” My whisper came out hoarse.

“Sabine.” Bryn kicked her shin. “Don’t.”

“I’m not judging,” Sabine said. “She’s within her rights. Shay’s an alpha. That means he’s a contender. Plus I’ve seen his shoulders. I’d let Shay take me for a ride if he offered.”

“Sabine!” Bryn shrieked, staring at me in horror.

But I was too shocked to be angry.

“How do you—” My cheeks were on fire.

“You smel like him.” Sabine smirked. “That’s the other thing. He smel s good, doesn’t he? What does he taste like?”

Bryn turned her back, but I was pretty sure it was to hide her grin because I could hear her laughing.

“Stop, Sabine. Just stop.”

“I took a shower!” I wanted to curl up into a bal and die.

Sabine chuckled. “It doesn’t matter.”

I cast a sidelong glance at Bryn. She was doing her best to twist her lips out of a sil y smile.

“It’s not like you smel bad, Cal,” she said, trying to make me feel better. “And Sabine is right. Shay has a nice smel . You know, like a garden.”

“Oh my God.” I dropped my face into my hands.

“Wel , I’m not going to be able to do anything with your hair if you stay like that,” Sabine said, giggling.

“Fine.” Squaring my shoulders, I sat up and took a deep breath. “Just finish it. And no more talking about last night.”

“Real y?”

I bared my teeth at how disappointed Bryn sounded.

“Cal a, I’m trying to tel you, you probably did the right thing.” Sabine moved to shape the layers near my face. “Ren made a mistake. If he wanted you so much, he should have come here. He should have been here to fight for you.”

I stared at my hands, embarrassed by the hot stinging in my eyes.

“Cal a.” Glancing up, I met Sabine’s gaze in the mirror. “Don’t blame yourself for Ren. We al know you cared about him. He made his choice. We al made our choices.”

I stared at her and then at my own reflection. Pale blond hair framed my face in soft layers that tapered from my cheekbones, fal ing just short of my shoulders. My lip quivered.

“You made me look beautiful.”

“I didn’t do much.” Sabine set the scissors aside and brushed stray hairs from my shoulders. “That’s just who you are.”

I opened my mouth, but words didn’t emerge, only a choked sob.

“God, don’t blubber, Cal a. You’re supposed to be an alpha,” Sabine grumbled. But then she squeezed my shoulder and quietly left the room, letting Bryn wrap her arms around me while I continued to cry.

Bryn left my side, coming back with a tissue.

“So when did Sabine get a personality transplant?” I said. “I could have sworn she was just nice. Kind of.”

“She is nice.” Bryn smiled sadly. “When you’re locked in a cel with someone for several days, you learn a lot about them. Sabine wasn’t ever the bitch we thought she was. She was just angry. Real y angry. The things she had to . . .”

She shuddered. “She has a lot to be angry about.”

Bryn was right. Of al the young Guardians, Sabine’s life had been the worst, but somehow I was the one crying. I blew my nose, then looked at her, stil sniffling. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

“Hardly,” Bryn said. “We’ve al been through a lot.

And if it had been me, I would have done the same thing.”

“Thanks,” I said. “But I don’t know how you can say that. You don’t know what happened.”

“Connor fil ed us in,” she said. “And Silas kept interrupting, trying to explain the history of al of it.

He’s real y weird, huh?”

“Yeah, he is,” I said. “What did Connor tel you?”

“Wel , I guess he couldn’t tel us how you felt,” she said. “But it’s easy enough to imagine. He told us who Shay is and why he’s so important.”

“Did he tel you about the al iance?” I asked, already nervous that any al iance between Guardians and Searchers was off the table.

She nodded. “It sounds like they can teach us some pretty amazing things.”

“Like what?” This was new. I tossed the crumpled tissue into the trash bin.

“Combat, magic. Our real history.” She crossed the room, shaking her head. “It’s stil hard to believe.

Al the lies.”

“I know.”

“For al their magic, I wish the Searchers could do something for Ansel.” She was at the window, staring at the rol ing surface of the ocean, now a gleaming turquoise under the bright morning sun.

“So do I.”

“They’re treating him wel ,” she said, running her fingertips over the gauzy drapes. “He’s not in a cel .

It’s just a smal bedroom.”

“You visited him?” Guilt bit into me much harder now. Why hadn’t I visited him yet?

“Mason and I have been staying with him in shifts,”

she said. When she turned around, it was like a shadow passed over her face. “But he won’t talk to me even when I’m there. Mason said it’s the same for him.”

“He won’t?”

She shook her head.

“Maybe he just needs time,” I offered, though my stomach was twisting itself into a knot.

“Maybe.” She shivered. “Cal a, I’m afraid we’re going to lose him.”

“I swear I won’t let the Searchers hurt him,” I said, a growl edging out with the words.

“No.” She rubbed her arms. “It’s not them I’m worried about.”

The painful twisting in my bel y wasn’t a knot anymore. It was a knife.

“I barely recognize him,” she whispered. “He’s drawn so far inside himself. I don’t think he wants to live. He’s been scratching his arms so much that they bleed.”

“We’l help him.” I worked past the lump in my throat. “We’l help him get better.”

She nodded, brushing tears from her cheeks.

“Wanna go see him now?” she asked. “It’s time for me to switch with Mason anyway. He gets grumpy if he doesn’t eat like every two hours.”

“I think that’s true of every teenage guy.” I smiled, taking her hand. “Let’s go see Ansel.”

“So are you real y not going to tel me anything about last night?” A wicked smiled flashed across her mouth.

“No.” But I smiled too. My world had been spinning out of control. Having Bryn around made everything better.

We’d only made it a few steps out of the room before Bryn stopped, turning to face me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said, taking my other hand in hers, squeezing my fingers tight. “It’s just . . . Sabine’s right.”

“About what?” I tried to puzzle out the expression on Bryn’s face; she didn’t look upset, just curious.

“About Shay,” she said. “He’s our new alpha, and he needs to be part of the pack.”

“Oh.” I shifted my weight, uneasy. While I wasn’t against the thought of Shay as my alpha mate, I was stil getting used to the idea.

“You should go get him,” she said. “Come together

—the alpha pair. It wil show Ansel that things are changing. That he . . . that we have a future.”

I nodded. Would that help Ansel, knowing that the world that had hurt him so much was no longer the one that ruled us? He’d always believed that love came first. Maybe seeing Shay and me together, by choice, would bring him around.

“Okay.” I nodded, drawing my fingers from hers.

“I’l go find him.”

“Great!” She threw her arms around me. I leaned into her, resting my cheek against her springy ringlets, remembering how much Bryn’s scent reflected her personality—sweet and spicy like a mix of toffee and cinnamon. The kind of smel that made you feel at home anywhere.

She bounced down the hal and I went to Shay’s room. I knocked on the door. No answer.

I knocked again. Maybe he’d fal en asleep.

“He’s not in there.”

I turned around to see Adne approaching.

“What do you mean?”

“Anika has him locked up with the Guides in Haldis tactical,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of the meeting room. “They’re strategizing the Tordis pickup.”

“Why didn’t they tel me?” I frowned.

“That’s part of the discussion,” she said. “With your brother’s questionable status, some of the teams have expressed concern about bringing Guardians along for the retrieval.”

I didn’t know whether to be shocked, outraged, or both. “They’re planning the mission without us?”

“They’re weighing their options,” she said, smiling briefly. “But that’s a good thing for us.”

“What do you mean for us?” I asked, wary of the sudden flash of her eyes.

“I need your help on another mission,” she said, fingering the skeans at her waist. “Under the table.”

“What mission?” The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up.

Adne’s mouth cut into a hard line. “We’re going to get my brother.”

TWENTY-NINE

FOR A MOMENT I THOUGHT
the floor had dropped out from under me and I was fal ing.

“Cal a?” Adne grabbed my arms as I swayed on my feet, dizzy. “You okay?”

I shook my head, trying to clear away the buzzing heat that flooded my skul .

“Did you hear what I said?” she asked, guiding me along the hal .

I nodded. “Your brother?”

“Yes.”

“You mean Ren?” It was hard to say his name.

“You can’t be serious. That would mean going back to Vail!”

She put her hand over my mouth. “Not here.”

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from asking more questions. Adne pul ed me down the hal , past my room and a few others, final y unlocking a door and slipping inside.

While the layout of the room was identical to mine, it couldn’t have looked more different. My bedroom had the blasé décor of most guest rooms, inoffensive but utterly devoid of character.

Adne’s room was a riot of color: violet, black, and crimson on the wal s, a crushed velvet throw spil ing over the side of her bed. She trotted over to a radio, adding a blast of sound that made the bright wal s swim before my eyes.

“Do you like the Raveonettes?” She turned up the volume.

I nodded, pulse pounding in rhythm with the ethereal voices that floated around me.

“Sorry.” She flopped onto the bed. “I can’t afford for anyone to hear us. Not that I don’t usual y play music this loud anyway.”

“It’s fine.”

“Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the bed.

I was too edgy to sit, but I hovered at the edge of the bed, playing with the fringes of the throw. “So Connor told you.”

She shook her head, leaning over to reach beneath the mound of pil ows at the top of the bed.

“My father told me.”

She pul ed out an envelope, drawing a letter from inside it. “Connor just delivered the news.”

“Monroe wrote you a letter?” I stared at the folded pages in her hands. There were several. How much had he told her? What secrets of the past had he spil ed onto those pages?

She laughed, blinking away tears. “Connor said my father knew I’d never let him corner me for a touchy-feely talk. I made a habit of avoiding those ever since Mom . . .”

Her eyes wandered to the bed stand. Fol owing her gaze, I saw a framed picture of a woman. She had copper blond hair and bright amber eyes. Her arms were around a beanpole of a girl wearing a foolish grin: a much younger Adne.

Adne thumbed the edge of the pages. “Apparently she brought them together. Ren’s mom, I mean.