Wolfsong (62 page)

She said, “Are you sure about this?”

I said, “For them? Always.”

She said, “I thought as much” and “I love you” and “I am so proud of you” and “You’ve got a soap bubble on your ear” and she
laughed
, and it was a beautiful sound, a joyful sound, and it was so much like her that my eyes burned and my throat closed.

But she wasn’t really there at all.

I passed out of the lights of Green Creek.

Red eyes looked at me from the passenger seat.

Thomas said, “An Alpha is only as strong as his pack.”

I said, “I know.”

Thomas said, “You are one of the strongest Alphas I’ve ever met.”

I said, “Am I strong enough to do this?”

Thomas said, “Are you going to do this?”

I said, “Yes.”

He said, “Then you’re strong enough” and “You’re my son just the same as the others” and “We’ll sing together soon and I promise you, it’ll fill your heart” and his eyes flashed red again, because even in death, he would always be an Alpha.
My
Alpha.

The bridge was a couple of miles away when I pulled over to the side of the road.

I had one last thing to do.

The seat was empty next to me.

They hadn’t really been there, I knew that, but I thought maybe I wasn’t alone.

I picked up my phone.

I typed two words to Joe and two words only.

Because I knew he’d understand.

He’d find it in the morning when he woke, since I’d turned his phone off before I left.

I stared at the screen, hesitating.

I didn’t think I could do this, what if I couldn’t do this,
what if I couldn’t keep them safe
—

I hit Send.

The message disappeared, relayed into towers and then the ether.

I turned off my phone.

I hoped he didn’t hate me for this.

I hoped he could forgive me one day.

I hoped he would find happiness again.

He’d know what the two words meant. Because he’d sent the same thing to me when he’d known what had to be done.

I pulled back onto the road and continued toward the old bridge.

And I thought those two words over and over again.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

THE ROAD
to the bridge was empty as I approached.

There were no street lamps out here.

Only the moon and the stars.

It was very dark.

My headlights lit up the bridge, thirty feet away.

It was empty too.

But I could feel them.

A poison on the land that had somehow become mine.

It was a blight against the grass and the trees and the leaves that shuddered in the wind.

A wound that was festering.

I turned off the truck. I left the lights on.

The engine ticked. I breathed evenly and slowly. Thomas and Mom didn’t come back.

I wished they would, even if they hadn’t been real.

I didn’t want to walk this alone.

The pack bonds were completely cut off.

I felt cold and empty. I hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

I took the crowbar out from underneath the seat. It felt smaller than it’d ever felt before.

I opened the door of the old truck. It screeched in the quiet night.

I stepped out onto the dirt road.

I did not tremble.

I did not shake.

I gripped the crowbar tightly and closed the door to the truck.

I moved toward the front of the truck, the headlights stretching my shadow until I looked like a giant against the wooden bridge.

I felt the moment I passed through the wards, like walking through a spiderweb. They brushed along my skin, and then the moment was over.

There were crickets in the grass, and they creaked.

I did not falter. The crowbar was cold in my hands.

A flash of violet off in the trees. Blinking once. Then again.

Then another pair. And another pair. And another.

They came then.

Out of the shadows.

There were ten of them.

Omegas.

More feral than I’d ever seen before.

Their eyes were continuously violet.

They were half-shifted, slobbering through fang-filled mouths.

Six humans were pushed out in front of them.

Their hands were bound behind them.

They had gags in their mouths.

Five adults, one child.

They all looked terrified, eyes wide and cheeks streaked with tears.

Two men. Three women. A little boy.

I recognized them. All of them. I’d seen them in Green Creek. They came into the garage. I ran into them in the grocery store. We passed by each other on the street. We waved hello. We waved good-bye. We said things like “have a good day” and “it’s nice to see you again” and “I hope everything is well with you.”

Mr. Fordham wasn’t with them because Mr. Fordham had been murdered while I listened.

They looked relieved at the sight of me, the humans.

I wasn’t their Alpha. Not before. But I would be now, at least for as long as I had left.

The little boy, William, his name was. His mother, Judith.

I said, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s all right. I know it’s scary. I know. But I’m here now. I’m here now and I promise I will do everything I can to make it okay. Just have faith in me. I will take care of you.”

The Omegas snarled as they laughed. They scraped their claws against human skin, leaving welts but not drawing blood.

The humans cried, tears and snot on their terrified faces.

The Omegas stopped in front of the bridge, standing behind the humans.

They forced them to their knees in the dirt.

Claws curled onto the humans’ shoulders.

The one behind William was bigger than the others. And meaner looking. He curved his claws around the boy’s face, fingers hooking under his chin. He caressed the claw on his thumb along William’s cheek, dimpling the skin. It wouldn’t take much. Just the slightest pressure and William would be—

Another man came out.

I wondered at the dramatics of werewolves.

These ones especially, revealing themselves slowly.

It was probably Richard’s idea, to come out one by one.

He knew what seeing Osmond’s face would do to me.

He was playing a game, and I was falling for it.

Because it was taking all I had not to launch myself at Osmond.

The years hadn’t been kind to Osmond. He looked haggard, smaller than I’d remembered him. Thinner. There were dark circles under his eyes. He seemed twitchy, hands flexing and then curling into fists again and again.

I remembered the first time I’d met him, the look on his face when he realized Joe had given me his wolf. The disgust. The
disdain
. He’d probably gone right to Richard after. Told him everything. Told him how Thomas had held him up against side of the house at the end of the lane, snarling in his face, telling him that I was
worth
something. That I
mattered
. That just because I was human didn’t make me any less than the wolves that surrounded me.

Thomas had stood up for me.

And then Osmond had
betrayed
him.

I thought how easy it would be to bring the crowbar down upon his head.

Just to see the skin and skull split, the spray of blood.

I’d be torn apart, sure. I probably wouldn’t even make it over to him before I was surrounded by Omegas.

But I could try. I really could.

His eyes flashed like he could hear my thoughts. They were violet, just like the others.

I said, “Your eyes.”

He flinched, like he hadn’t expected me to speak.

“Was it worth it?”

The Omegas laughed again.

Osmond said, “It doesn’t matter.” His voice was quiet. “What’s done is done.”

What’s done is done.
Like my mother. Like Thomas.

Oh, the rage I felt.

The
anger
.

It must have been radiating off me, and even though the Omegas weren’t mine, even though I was not their Alpha, I was still
an
Alpha, and their shoulders tensed and they whimpered and they
whined
at the sight of me.

Osmond looked to cower, but stopped himself at the last moment. “Enough,” he said harshly to the Omegas. They barked and yipped at him in return.

“How did you do it?” Osmond asked me. “How did you become an Alpha?”

“How do you sleep at night?” I asked him. “Knowing you did what you did?”

“I sleep very well.”

“Lie,” I said. “You don’t look good, Osmond.”

“This isn’t going to end well for you. You have to know that by now.”

I smiled at him. He flinched again. “Maybe not,” I said. “But I know who I am. Can you say that?”

“We looked into you, Matheson. No wolves. No one in your family was ever a wolf.”

I said nothing.

“We thought that it could be the witch. You were part of his coven, his pack even before you knew the wolves. But there isn’t magic strong enough to create an Alpha. Believe me, he looked.”

Robert Livingstone. I wondered if he was here. I thought not. Gordo would have known, even without the wards.

“No magic,” Osmond said. “No wolves. And yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” I agreed, waiting for the monster to show himself, to slink out of the dark with fang and claw.

“How?” he asked again. “How can you be the Alpha if you can’t feel them?”

“Does it matter?” I didn’t touch the last part. Because it sounded like he didn’t know about the bonds. About the threads that tied us all together. And if he didn’t know—

Osmond narrowed his eyes. “If you could do it, there could be others.”

I knew what it was. For the most part. But he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to know that it came from grief and need. That it came from trust and belief. That there were wolves and humans alike who believed in me so much that I couldn’t be anything
but
their Alpha. That even though I wasn’t a wolf, they trusted me to care for them. To love them. To give them a home and make us a family.

It was something Osmond could never understand.

It was something Richard
would
never understand.

Because even if he took this from me, even when he ripped this from my chest, he would mangle it and twist it into something unrecognizable. He could be an Alpha, but he would never get what it meant to
be
an Alpha.

I said, “Where is he?” I was done with Osmond. I was done with waiting.

Osmond said, “He’ll come when he’s ready.”

I snorted. “Drawing this out, then. Listening as you try and get as much information from me as you can. You’re his bitch, Osmond. You’ve never been anything more than his bitch.”

Osmond growled, eyes flashing as he took a step forward. “Chaney,” he said coldly, eyes never leaving mine. “Just a little bit.”

The mean wolf, the large wolf, the wolf holding on to William grinned, his chin wet with saliva that leaked from his mouth. He dragged his thumb harder against the boy’s cheek, splitting it cleanly. The boy shrieked into his gag, blood spilling. It was a thin cut and probably wouldn’t even scar, but the wolves smelled the blood and began to gnash their teeth. William’s mother tried to lunge for him but was snapped back by her hair, the Omega behind her jerking it none too lightly.

“Don’t,” I said hoarsely. “Just—”

I was distracted. By the wolves. By the humans. By the blood dripping down William’s face. It made sense. It was overwhelming. I was surrounded by Omegas who were shifting further and further into their wolves, by Osmond who looked both defiant and nervous.

I was distracted.

Which is why I didn’t hear him coming up behind me.

Which is why I didn’t anticipate his arm coming up around my chest, pulling me tightly against him.

Which is why I didn’t expect his other hand to latch itself around my throat, claws digging into my neck.

His breath was on my ear. It stank of flesh and blood.

Richard Collins said, “Hello, Ox.”

I closed my eyes, and even though I tried to force it down, my heart tripped and stumbled in my chest.

He felt it. He heard it.

He chuckled at the sound, the rapid beat.

He sounded amused when he said, “You don’t stink of fear. Curious, that.”

“Because I’m not afraid of you,” I said even as he tightened his grip around my throat. His front was pressed against my back, his lips near my ear. It was the furthest thing from intimate I’d ever experienced.

“Maybe,” he said. “If you aren’t, it’s only because you’ve convinced yourself of it. But I can make you scared of me, Ox. Very quickly, if I chose to.”

The Omegas in front of us grinned and ran their claws over the heads of the humans at their feet. Osmond watched us warily, eyes flickering violet.

“It’s quiet?” Richard asked.

Osmond nodded. “Only him.”

“Good,” Richard said. “It’s a start.” Then, “Thank you, Ox. I knew I could count on you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Such kindness. Now for your next trick, I need you to drop the crowbar. You won’t be needing it.”

I didn’t move.

“Ox,” he said, voice filled with regret. “I can do this as easy or as hard as you make me. Really, the power is in your hands as to how this can go. Don’t you want this to be easy?”

He lied, I knew. Words filled with promise that died in my ears. Nothing about this would be easy.

“Ox. Drop. The. Crowbar.”

I was an Alpha. I was a goddamn
Alpha
—

I didn’t have time to move or even react when he dropped the arm around my chest, his hand snapping to my wrist. He twisted it brutally, the bones grinding, then breaking. A wave of pain shot up through me, glassy and sharp. My stomach rolled as the crowbar fell to the ground. It kicked up a plume of dust as I gritted my teeth together, trying to swallow back the cry that wanted to fall from my mouth.

“That was… unfortunate,” Richard said, and he shoved me down into the dirt.

I tasted dirt in my mouth.