Men of the Otherworld (33 page)

I managed to make it through the fall term but when it ended, I told Jeremy I wasn't going back until this problem was resolved. He argued, of course, but he understood where my priorities lay. I couldn't concentrate on school knowing my absence put everyone in danger. So I told the university I was having problems at home and arranged to resume my studies the next year.

In April, Malcolm launched his first strike. All six of us were at Stonehaven, and we'd decided to blow off some steam with a
deer hunt. Once we found a deer, we split into pairs. Jeremy and Antonio had looped around in front of the stag. Nick and I chased it from the left side while Jorge and Peter took the right flank position. Then the four of us would drive it to where Jeremy and Antonio were waiting.

I was running ahead of Nick. I shouldn't have been—I should have stayed at his side—but he'd stumbled in an animal hole and, once I'd checked to make sure he was okay, I'd dashed ahead, eager to catch up before the stag realized its left flank was unprotected. After a few bounds, I could hear Nick racing up behind me. A shot cracked. Then a yelp. I wheeled to see Nick fly sideways. As I raced back to him, the smell of blood and gunpowder hit me, and I knew he'd been shot.

The next half-hour is a blur. As Peter ran to get Jeremy, I stayed over Nick, frantically licking at the blood pouring from his shoulder. When Jeremy arrived, he was in human form. I dimly recall him struggling to pull me off Nick, then Antonio arriving. I stayed as close as they would allow until I heard the words “he'll be okay.” Then I slid into the nearest thicket and Changed.

When I peeked out, Peter was hurrying to Jeremy with his medical kit. I stayed hidden as I listened to them. Once I knew that Nick would survive, I crept back to my clothes. I dressed, raced to the house, grabbed my keys and took off.

Malcolm was in Syracuse, where he'd been since this all started. He'd told us exactly where he was staying, as if daring us to try something.

I should have known he'd go after Nick. He was the weakest link, being the newest werewolf, with little fight experience outside our practice sessions. Yet all this time, we'd focused on protecting Peter and Jorge, because no one, including myself, seriously thought he would harm Nick.

Malcolm liked Nick. I suppose it's naive to think that someone as ambitious and ruthless as Malcolm wouldn't kill a person he liked, but to us it made more sense that he'd go after Peter or Jorge, whom he barely tolerated. Yet it was more than that. We thought Nick was safe because he was Antonio's son and my best friend, and Antonio and I were Malcolm's favorites, no matter how little we wanted the honor.

Despite this, I never doubted that Malcolm had shot Nick. Hunters hadn't set foot on Stonehaven's property in well over a generation. The Danverses had always made it clear that they didn't want them and, since they were otherwise good neighbors, local hunters obeyed the No Trespassing signs and warned visitors to do the same.

To have a hunter come on the property, after all those years, and just happen to shoot Nick was coincidental beyond belief. Malcolm had known we were all at Stonehaven, and would likely take advantage of the full moon for a group run.

At Malcolm's hotel, I stormed down the hall to his room and pounded on the door. Daniel opened it. I shoved him aside and strode into the room, where I found Malcolm, Stephen and Andrew sitting around the television.

“Clay?” Malcolm said, pushing to his feet. “What's—?”

“Get outside,” I said.

“What?”

“You heard me. You want a challenge. You've got it. Get outside now.”

“Challenge? What—?”

“Did you really think you could get away with it? You'd shoot Nick and I'd just chalk it up to a tragic hunting accident?”

“Nick's been shot? Is he okay?”

I could see the lie behind Malcolm's fake shock, and I wanted to cross that room, grab him and beat him until he confessed.
But, if I did, Stephen, Andrew and Daniel would be on me in a second.

Instead I marched to the front closet, yanked it open and grabbed Stephen's shoes. Of everyone in Malcolm's camp, he was the only one who owned a rifle and could use it, having friends who were hunters. I checked the bottoms, then walked back and shoved the shoes under Malcolm's nose.

“Smell that mud?” I said. “Stonehaven's mud, still wet.”

Malcolm's eyes went wide. “Stephen? Did you shoot—?”

“Don't pull that,” I snapped. “Stephen's too stupid to think of it, let alone carry it out.”

“You little—”

Stephen flew at me. I nailed him in the gut and he toppled backward. Daniel jumped from his spot by the wall. I met his glare.

“Try it,” I said. “Go on. Show me you've grown a pair, Danny.”

Daniel didn't move. Stephen got to his feet and charged. I feinted out of the way and was turning to strike when someone grabbed my hand.

I roared and wheeled to see Antonio holding me. I stopped short, but he used my momentum to yank me off balance, and threw me out the door into the hall.

“This isn't over,” I heard him say to Malcolm.

The door slammed and Antonio turned on me. “Either we continue this out here or you go downstairs to the car quietly.”

“But he—”

Antonio loomed over me, eyes blazing. “Where are Wally and Raymond?”

“What? I—they're not here.”

“But who is, Clayton? Who is here?”

“I—I don't—”

“You're here and I'm here. The two people most likely to come after Malcolm if he hurt Nick. And where is Jeremy?”

I scrambled to my feet. “Oh shit!”

Antonio grabbed my arm. “He's okay. He's down in the car with the others. Fortunately, only one of us is as hotheaded as Malcolm hoped. Think before you act next time, Clay. If you're going to protect Jeremy, he needs to be your first priority at all times. No one else can matter. Let me look after everyone else, including Nick.”

“I'm sorry,” I said, rubbing my face. “I didn't think—”

“Well, that was your first mistake.” He thumped me on the back. “Now, come on.”

I nodded and followed him down to the car.

The next night, when Nick felt well enough to join us, Jeremy convened a meeting. The subject? How to break the stalemate. Knowing this impasse put us in danger was one thing, but seeing Nick nearly killed, on our own property, surrounded by all of us, finally brought home the urgency of the situation. Jeremy knew we had to act. Since he wasn't Alpha yet, he didn't need to make all the decisions alone. He could solicit advice.

“I'll fight Malcolm,” I said as I plunked onto the sofa beside Nick. “Set it up and I'll take him out.”

“Presuming you do ‘take him out,’ then what?” Jeremy asked.

“Well, then I give you—” I thought about what I was saying. “Er, I—uh, sorry.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Jeremy said softly. “But I wouldn't expect anyone to respect an Alpha who had his title won for him by another. The answer to our problem, I believe, is obvious. Malcolm clearly wants a fight, and I doubt he'll settle for anything less. If that's my only option then I'll have to—”

“No way,” Antonio said.

“I know I'm not on his level,” Jeremy said. “But perhaps under
the right circumstances, with a good strategy, I could outwit him. Strength isn't everything.”

“If Malcolm gets you in the ring, he'll fight like he's never fought before. He's been waiting for this his whole life. He'll kill you.”

“Maybe that's a chance I have to take.”

“It's not a chance, it's a certainty. Then the only thing you'll have accomplished is to break the Pack in half, because none of us would stick around if Malcolm becomes Alpha. The only two he'd
let
stick around are me and Clay, and if he kills you, nothing in the world would make us follow him. We'd rather be mutts.”

Jeremy was silent for a moment. Then he gave a slow nod. “Maybe, then,
that's
the only solution. To break the Pack in half.”

“Two Packs?” I said.

Jeremy nodded.

“It might be the only way,” Jorge said.

“How would that work?” Peter asked.

“I have no idea,” Jeremy said. “So let's talk about it.”

By morning we'd come up with a proposal. We'd split the Pack in two, each with an Alpha. Jeremy's side would retain New York State as its territory, and Malcolm would take Pennsylvania, where the Santoses lived.

That would mean Malcolm would give up Stonehaven as his home, but Jeremy would compensate him for that with a generous monthly stipend. In time we hoped to persuade the others to move their territory farther west or south, and put more distance between us.

Antonio and Peter took the proposal to Malcolm. He turned them down flat. Wouldn't even negotiate terms. He sent back a message to Jeremy saying that the only way the Pack was splitting
was if we all left the country and started a new Pack in Canada or Mexico… after Jeremy deeded Stonehaven to him. Jeremy didn't dignify that with an answer.

Over the next few days, Antonio and I held some private meetings to discuss taking matters into our own hands. Antonio wanted to kill Wally or Raymond, and thus swing the vote in our favor. I didn't see the point of such political wrangling. If you want to kill a beast, and make sure it's really dead, you don't sever a leg and hope it bleeds out—you lop off the head. Kill Malcolm and our problems would be over.

While not opposed to the general theory, Antonio knew Jeremy would figure out who had killed Malcolm and, whatever the history between them, Malcolm was still his father. To have him killed by someone Jeremy had raised would be too much. I thought Malcolm had long since lost any paternal rights, but I wasn't sure enough about the situation to test it. Not just yet.

So we reverted to discussing Antonio's plan. The trick, though, was to kill Wally or Raymond without it being obvious that we'd done so. Otherwise, we reduced Jeremy to Malcolm's level, because everyone would assume
he'd
ordered the death.

Midweek, Antonio had to return to New York for an unavoidable business meeting, and we agreed to think the problem through and come up with some ideas before he returned on the weekend. Jorge, Peter and Nick went back to New York with Antonio. Normally, Peter would have stayed with us, but after the attack on Nick, we decided he was better off with the Sorrentinos. That way I could devote my full protective attention to Jeremy.

Dinner Thursday night started like any other. Our meals were still made by the same woman who'd been cooking for us since I'd first arrived at Stonehaven. I could cook, and had been doing so on weekends, but even now that I was home full time, Jeremy
knew Pearl needed the income, so we still had our meals delivered on weekdays.

That night it was her specialty: shepherd's pie. While Jeremy dished it up, I threw together a salad in the kitchen. I walked into the dining room to see him leaning over the steaming pan, spatula only partway through the first cut.

“Sniff this,” he said.

The scent of hot beef and potato wafted up. My stomach rumbled.

“Smells great. Now hurry up and scoop it out or I'll take the whole dish.”

I reached for the casserole, but Jeremy pulled it back.

“I'm serious. Something smells off.”

“The meat?” I said, leaning in for a closer sniff. “Seems fine to me. Doesn't matter anyway.” Our stomachs, like a wolf's, were strong enough to withstand meat that was undercooked or past its best-before date.

Jeremy waved me away from the food, forked up a mouthful and sampled it. Then he made a face and discreetly spat it into a napkin. I scooped up a fingerful and ate it. It tasted fine, but if Jeremy thought our food had been tampered with, I wasn't going to argue. He was entitled to a little paranoia these days.

Jeremy started for the door, paused, came back and took the casserole with him.

“Hey, if you think there's something wrong with it, I'm not going to eat it,” I called after him.

After one last look in the direction of my vanished dinner, I tucked into the salad. A few minutes later, Jeremy returned.

“I called John,” he said. John was Pearl's son, who'd taken over delivering our meals when his father died a few years ago. “He says he didn't see Pearl this afternoon. When he got to the house, the cooler was inside the front door, so he took it and left.”

I laid down my fork. “And he didn't think that was strange?”

Jeremy shook his head. “These days, Pearl often naps in the afternoon. Even I knew that.”

“Does Malcolm?”

As Jeremy pulled something from his pocket, he gave a half-shrug that I interpreted as “probably.” He laid the shepherd's pie in front of me again.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

I did. He instructed me to sniff and I again smelled the meal. Then he held something else in front of my nose and I inhaled a vaguely familiar odor—one that I'd also faintly smelled on our dinner.

“Yeah, that's it,” I said, opening my eyes. “What is—?” I knew the answer before I even saw the bottle in Jeremy's hand. “Sedative. The stuff from your medical bag. Is any missing?”

He shook his head.

“But Malcolm's seen it before, plenty of times. We all have. If he knew the name, he'd know what to get, and he'd know it works on werewolves.” I looked at the casserole. “So he dumped enough in there to kill us.”

“No, we'd smell that much easily. This is just enough to knock us out.”

I pushed my chair back and stood. “Well, I'm not waiting around to see what he planned to do next.”

Jeremy laid a hand on my shoulder. “I think we should do exactly that. Malcolm expects us to be asleep early tonight. Let's give him what he wants, and see what he does with it.”

Three hours later, when I heard the garage doorknob turn, I was sprawled out on the sofa in the study, the most likely place for me to crash before bedtime. Sure enough, footsteps headed straight for me. I counted three sets and, almost the moment I'd finished counting, I identified them: Wally and his two oldest nephews, Stephen and Andrew.

Disappointment zinged through me as I realized Malcolm wasn't among our uninvited guests, but I wasn't surprised. As much as he might like a showdown with his son, he wasn't stupid enough to take that risk. This way, if things went bad, he could claim that the Santoses had acted on their own.