Wolfsong (25 page)

I moved with purpose.

I was aware.

Nothing was wrong.

Nothing felt off.

I was human, but I’d grown into my instincts.

It was fine. It was all fine.

But I still played it safe.

I went through the side door into the kitchen.

As soon as I closed the door behind me, it felt like a wet blanket fell over me.

Muted. Dark.

The air smelled sharp, almost like smoke.

The pack bonds were there, but they were grayed and dull. Muffled.

“Mom?”

And a man said, “Hello.”

He was leaning against the counter near the sink. He was a tall man. A slender man. Thinning brown hair. Little wrinkles pronounced around his eyes. A sharp, angular nose above even teeth. Tan skin without a single mark that I could see. He smiled at me and it was a
kind
smile. Full of laughter. Amusement.

He was
pleased
.

He said, “Ox, isn’t it?”

I took a cautious step because of the
wrong wrong wrong
. “Where’s my mom?”

He cocked his head, the smile fading slightly. “That was rude,” he said. “I asked you a question.”

I said nothing.

He sighed. “Ox.”

She kept the good silver in a cabinet on the other side of the kitchen. I could—

He said, “I’ve certainly heard stories about
you
. The human who runs with wolves. The man in a wolf pack. Tell me, Oxnard. Do you feel the pull of the wolf within you? Does it claw at the human tissue surrounding your human bones?”

“Where is she?” That heavy feeling wouldn’t leave and I wondered if this was what magic felt like when you were engulfed by it. If Gordo felt like this all the time.

He frowned. “I asked you a question.”

“I’m not a wolf.”

“I know
that
. I’m aware of
that
. That’s not what I asked.”

“No. I don’t feel it.”

The man said, “That was a lie. Why would you lie to me, Ox?”

“I’m sorry. Please. Where is she?”

“They can’t hear you, you know.”

“Who?”

“Your pack. They don’t know that anything is… amiss. It’s powerful. The spell.”

“Tell me.”

“Do you know who I am?” he asked. His eyes were bright and green until they were consumed by orange. But it wasn’t the Halloween orange I was used to, vibrant and alive. No, this orange was rotting.

“No.”

“That was another lie. Ox. Have they taught you
nothing
?”

I said, “Don’t do this.”

He laughed. “Do what?”

“Hurt her.”

“Ah. Well. Of course. You can stop that, Ox. If you wanted to.”

“How?”

“It’s simple, really. Give me Joe and Thomas Bennett and I will give you your mother. You will call them and ask for them to come over here. I don’t care what you have to say to get them here. Just those two and those two alone. If I even
suspect
you’re trying to tip them off, I will paint the
walls
with her blood.”

“You can’t—”

He said, “That’s where you’re wrong. Because I
can
do it. And even more, I
am
doing it. This is happening, Ox. As we speak. As you breathe. Standing there with your little rabbit heart.”

“You
can’t
—”

“Ox. Ox. You can’t argue with me. Not on this. I am a
beast
. I was made to be this way by the might and folly of men and I stopped denying what I am a long time ago. I will take what is rightfully mine and all will be well.”

“You don’t have to do this,” and my voice
cracked
.

He said, “You have a choice to make, Oxnard. Hurry. You have a minute to decide.”

I took a step toward him, my hands in fists at my sides. My head hurt and I could only think
MOM
and
JOE
and
THOMAS
and there was so much
anger
. So much
rage
that this man, this deceptively simple-looking man could come into
my
house and try to take everything from me. Everything I had. Everything I’d built.

I said, “Richard Collins.”

He grinned. Bowed his head. Extended his hands in a neat little flourish. “At your service.”

His rotted eyes flashed again.

I said, “I’ll kill you. For everything you’ve done.”

His smile widened. His teeth were more wolf than man. “I can see why Thomas likes you. Human or not, you’ve got a little somethin’ somethin’, am I right? Forty-five seconds, Ox.”

I said, “Don’t do this. Take me. Leave them alone. I’ll go with you.”

His smile faded. “So quick to sacrifice yourself?”

“Just take me.” Another step forward. “I’ll go quietly. Wherever you want.”

“You’ll kill me, you’ll go with me, which is it? You’re confusing the situation, Ox. How fickle the will of men.”

I struggled to take a breath.

“Thirty seconds, Oxnard. And I have no use for a human aside from getting me what I want. You just won’t do.”

And another step and there she was. I could see her. In the living room. There were other men with her. Omegas, all of them. Their eyes were violet-bright, and my mother… oh god, my
mother
was on her knees, facing me. Gag in her mouth. Tears on her cheeks. She saw me and her eyes widened and she leaned toward me, and one of the Omegas grabbed her hair, snapping her neck back and—

“Kill you,” I said hoarsely. “All of you. Every one of you. I swear it. I swear on all I have.”

They laughed.

Osmond’s Betas were kneeling on either side of her, blood spilling from wounds that hadn’t closed. Wouldn’t close.

“Fifteen seconds,” Richard said.

I said, “I don’t have my phone I don’t have it I don’t have it I swear I don’t,” and I couldn’t
breathe
because this was
MOM
and
JOE
and
THOMAS
and he was making me
choose
, he was making me
decide
between them.

He said, “Kill the Betas,” and before I could even take another step, two Omegas stepped forward and grabbed the heads of the kneeling wolves. A quick snap of the wrists and there was a crack and pop of bone and tissue and they fell to the floor, legs jerking and hands shifting to claws. Their heads had been twisted so far around that the skin had torn and blood spilled. There would be no coming back from that. No healing. The Omegas stood above them and waited for them to die. It didn’t take long.

“I’m serious, Ox,” Richard said quietly. “There are things I need. Things that must be done before I can leave here. I will do anything to take what’s mine, what’s owed to me. Can’t you see that? Ox, she’s
scared
. This is your
mother
. You’re not mated to Joe. Not yet. You can find another. There will be a nice boy or girl for you down the road, but you can never have another
mother
, Ox. She’s your only one. Please don’t make me hurt her. I would feel so
bad
about that. I would. I really would.”

And I knew that. I did. I did. She was my one and only. The only one I’d ever have.

“I’ll go back and get them,” I said. “I promise. I’ll get them and bring them back.”

Richard sighed. “Ox. Ox. Ox. That’s not how this goes.” He sounded so disappointed. He walked toward my mother.

I looked at her, and I was seven again. Or six. Or five and I was looking at my mommy, asking her what I should do, begging for her to tell me just
what the fuck I should do
because it was all
violet
and
blue
and all I could see was
red
.

And my mother looked back at me. With those dark eyes. She was no longer crying. Her face was wet, as were her eyes, but tears no longer fell. There was fire and steel buried in a cold resolve and she just
looked
at me and I knew. I knew what she was doing.

She was being brave and stupid and I hated her.

I hated her for it.

Because she was making the choice for me.

She was saying good-bye.

I said, “No. No, no, no.” And took a step toward her.

The Omegas snarled.

Richard was a few steps away.

And her eyes flickered behind me to the door I’d come in. The door she was telling me to leave through when she moved.

“Mom.”

She nodded.

Richard said, “This is touching. Last chance, Ox.”

I croaked, “
Mom
.”

She smiled around the gag. A bright and shining smile that was the most awful thing I’d ever seen.

And then she
moved
.

It was grace. It was beauty. Fluid, like water and smoke. She coiled down and then rose up quicker than I’d ever seen her move before. Her head snapped back, smashing into the Omega behind her. His nose broke as he cried out and I took a stumbling step backward because if I
moved
quick enough, if I stepped out of the house and out of the magic that choked me, then I could call for my pack and they would save us, save
her
, and we would never have to be alone again.

Except Richard’s hand curved into black claws.

His raised his arm in the air.

I remembered the night of my sixteenth birthday when we’d danced in the kitchen.

The way she had smiled at me.

The soap bubble on my ear.

How she had
laughed
.

And as I pushed through the door to sing my family home, the hand of the beast came down across her throat.

The floor was wet, after. Around her.

The sound she made was wet.

Her eyes were wet. Her lips.

And her throat. Her throat.

Her
throat
.

And she started to fall and I pushed the door open and the magic
held
and it
pulled
and I screamed out my song of loss and horror and
pushed
through it.

When I came out on the other side, there was a hole in my chest where a bond had broken, and I knew. I knew, I knew, I knew.

And I sang then. I crawled on my hands and knees and
sang
.

I sang a song for my mother, heart shattered and soul-deep.

They knew. My pack. As soon as my song hit their ears, they knew.

Their answering howls were rage and fury and despair.

And I crawled toward them, calling back, begging for them to take away this pain. Begging for this to be a dream. A nightmare. But I had read that there was no actual pain in dreams. I remembered that through the haze of magic and darkness. I remembered that. And this couldn’t be a dream, then, because all I could feel was pain. It rolled over my whole body until I was gagging with it.

Joe reached me first as a wolf, shreds of clothes he hadn’t bothered to discard hanging off him. He pressed up against me and shuddered along with me, whining deeply as he rubbed his nose over me. He shifted and growled, “Ox, Ox. Please. Please just look at me. Please. Where is it? Why do you smell like blood? Did he hurt you? Please don’t be hurt. Please tell me what’s wrong. You can’t be hurt. You just can’t. You can’t ever be hurt.” And his hands ran over me, trying to find any injury.

Wolves flew by us, toward the house.

The sun was setting behind the mountains.

Joe took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my chin.

He said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Like it was his fault. Like
he
had done this.

And for a moment, an awesomely terrible moment, I thought he had. I thought all of them had. The Bennetts. Because if they’d never come back, if I’d never met them, never heard them speak or seen their secrets unfold before me, my mom would still be with me. We’d be sadder. We’d be quieter. We’d be lonelier.

But we would
be
.

And the moment passed.

It passed because I had been given a choice. Between her and them.

And I’d chosen.

The air was warm and birds were singing and Joe’s hands were smooth, but I felt
none
of it. I heard
none
of it.

There were no tears on my face.

I didn’t cry because my father had told me men didn’t cry.

I pushed Joe’s hands off me and stood.

Thomas stepped out of my house. He had shifted from his wolf. He gripped the porch railing and closed his eyes. Osmond came out from behind him. I could hear the others moving inside the house.

I said, “Where is he?”

And Thomas said, “He’s gone into the woods.”

“Can you track him?”

Thomas took a step toward me. “Ox. I’m—”

“Can you track him?” I repeated.

Osmond said, “Yes. But it’s what he wants. How many?”

“Five or six,” I said. “Omegas, all.”

Osmond closed his eyes. “They’re gathering behind him. He’s leading them. There’ll be others. He’s trying to become the Alpha to the Omegas.”

Elizabeth came out, her face ashen. She was still clothed, so she must not have shifted. She pushed past Osmond and Thomas and reached for me even before she’d reached the bottom of the stairs. Her arms came around me and held me close. Mine stayed at my sides.

She said, “Ox.”

I said, “We find him. Tonight.” I didn’t look away from Thomas.

She said, “Oh, Ox,” and there was a hitch in her breath.

“He won’t run,” Osmond said. “This was planned.”

And Thomas said, “Call Gordo. We need to move soon.”

I SAT
on the porch, my crowbar in hand.

The pack curled around me. Joe wouldn’t leave my side.

I had never felt this cold before.

It was full dark when Gordo returned.

He got out of the car and said, “Ox.”

I stood.

He said, “I’m sorry.”

I said, “For what?”

“What happened. I’ve… made some calls. She’ll be taken care of.”

“What does that mean?”

“I won’t let anything happen to her.”

It was too late for that. “That’s good.”