Men of the Otherworld (34 page)

I held myself still as they came into the room. I was lying on my back, with my arm slung up to hide my face. As they walked into the room, I struggled to keep from tensing. We had to let them make the first move, or Malcolm would claim he'd only sent them to retrieve his shaving kit or something equally ridiculous.

“Out like a light,” Andrew said, leaning over me.

“Probably because he scarfed down most of dinner himself,” Stephen said.

“Let's just hope he left enough for Jeremy,” Andrew said.

Stephen snorted. “Like it matters. Even if Jeremy's wide awake, I could take him with one hand tied behind my back.”

“Maybe so,” Wally said. “But you're not going to try it. Andy, I want you to stay here, make sure Clayton doesn't wake up.”

“Let's skip that step,” Stephen said, moving close enough that I could feel the heat of his body. “How about we stage a little ‘accident’?
‘Damn, Mal, I know you wanted Clay left alive, and we really tried, but he woke up and we just had to—’ ”

“Don't even think about it,” Wally said. “Even if he stirs, we're following orders, tying him up and leaving him alive. You don't want to test Malcolm on this.”

“Goddamn it!” Stephen snarled. “He hates Malcolm. We're the ones who—”

“It's not fair, I know,” Wally said softly. “When all this is over, we'll take care of Clayton, and things will change. Now, Andy, as I was saying, you stay here. If he moves, come and get me. Got it?”

“Got it.”

The moment Wally and Stephen left, my heart started pounding, urging me to take care of Andrew and go protect Jeremy. Yet I knew it would take them awhile to find Jeremy… if they found him at all.

Jeremy had crisscrossed the house, from top to bottom, laying enough trails that they'd eventually get frustrated and give up trying to track him. Then they'd check the obvious spots he might have passed out—his bedroom, his studio, the bathroom—but he wasn't in any of those. It would be awhile before they suspected Jeremy wasn't asleep at all.

I forced myself to count off five minutes before I peeked. By that time, Andrew had retreated to Jeremy's armchair. He sat there, staring at me, unblinking, as if I could wake up and pounce in the millisecond it took him to blink. The stink of fear wafted
from him. That was why Wally had left him behind, because if I did wake up, Andrew would make damned sure he called for help instead of trying to take me on by himself.

After another couple of minutes, Andrew began to relax and his gaze wandered to the bookshelf. Two more minutes passed. Then he eased up from the chair, gave me one last look and turned toward the bookshelf.

I sprang the moment his back was to me. My hand was around his mouth before he realized I'd left the sofa. I could have killed him then. But of the three Santos boys, Andrew had given me the least reason to hate him. I didn't like him, but he wasn't enough of a threat to warrant killing. So I wrapped my free hand around his throat and squeezed until he passed out. Then I lowered him to the floor and crept from the room.

As soon as I walked into the rear hallway, Jeremy slid through the back door. He motioned me to silence, cocked his head and listened. Footsteps sounded above. Jeremy waved me closer and I whispered what had happened so far—that Andrew was unconscious in the study, and Wally and Stephen were searching.

“Time to let them find me,” Jeremy murmured.

Of all the parts of Jeremy's plan, I hated this one the most. But Jeremy insisted we play this to the end, that we had to know, beyond a doubt, what they had in mind.

Jeremy pointed to the kitchen. When I hesitated, he met my gaze and jabbed his finger toward the room. I muttered under my breath, but obeyed.

I slipped into the kitchen, half opened the pantry door and stood behind it. In the hallway something crashed and the footsteps above stopped.

“Clay?” Jeremy called, his voice weak, as if sedated. “Clayton?”

A softer bang as he knocked into the hall stand. Overhead the footsteps resumed, quieter now, heading for the staircase. Jeremy's
unnaturally heavy footfalls thudded toward the kitchen, interspersed with the odd thump as he stumbled into a wall. By the time he threw open the kitchen door, Wally and Stephen were on the stairs, moving fast now.

“Clayton?” Jeremy called into the kitchen. “Damn it, where are—?” The squeak of his shoes as he turned. A soft intake of breath. “Wally? Stephen? What are you—?”

A thump. I dove from my hiding spot as Wally pounced on Jeremy. Not seeing me, Stephen raced across the room to join his uncle. I slammed into him and we sailed into the far wall. Stephen's eyes went wide.

“Surprised?” I said. “You wanted to fight me, you got it.”

He swung, but in his haste didn't aim, and I didn't even need to duck to avoid it. I grabbed his arm, ripped it backward and heard the bone snap. Stephen howled. I put my face to his.

“What? Can't fight
me
with one arm? What about Jeremy? Care to test that boast now?”

He drove his good hand into my stomach. The air whooshed from me and I stumbled back, but when he brought his hand up again, I grabbed it and threw him over onto his back. I took his left forearm between my hands, met his wild eyes and broke the bone. While he screamed, I leaned down and whispered in his ear.

“I could stop here,” I said. “You're not fighting anyone with two busted arms so, really, I should just stop. But I'm not going to. And you know why? Because you wouldn't stop if it was me lying there. Sooner or later, it's gonna come down to this, and I'm not taking the chance that you'll go after Jeremy again in the meantime.”

He opened his mouth, but I grabbed him by the neck and snapped it before he could say anything. Then I tossed his body to the floor and raced across the kitchen to where Jeremy and
Wally were fighting behind the table. Jeremy had Wally in a headlock, but before he could tighten his grip, Wally managed to kick Jeremy in the stomach and wriggle free. I jumped in and grabbed Wally by the back of the shirt.

Jeremy met my gaze and, very slowly, shook his head. It took every ounce of will, but I forced myself to let go of Wally and step back. Jeremy sprang at him and they went down fighting.

That was the longest five minutes of my life. I knew Wally was at least as good a fighter as Jeremy, yet I also knew that Jeremy had to do this himself. So I welded my feet to the floor and I watched. Finally Jeremy got Wally back in that headlock and, with a sharp thrust on Wally's chin, he ended it.

Jeremy struggled to his feet and wiped his sleeve across the blood streaming from his split lip. His left eye was fast swelling shut.

“You okay?” he asked.

I managed a laugh. “Yeah,
I'm
fine. Let me grab some ice for that lip. Looks like you might need some stitches for it, too.” I looked him over. “Anything else?”

He shook his head. Silly question. He could have a dozen broken bones and he still wouldn't admit to any injury I couldn't see.

He stared down at Wally and Stephen and, for a moment, looked as if he might be sick.

“It should never have come to this,” he said. “I don't know where—” He paused, eyes closing. “We're Pack. We don't kill—” Another glance at the bodies and a long, slow shake of his head as his eyes filled with a quiet grief.

“Yeah, it shouldn't have happened,” I said as I took a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. “But you can fix that now.”

“Hmmm?”

I shot a pointed look at Wally and Stephen. “Three to five. You won.”

Jeremy took the peas and shook his head. “Not like that. I won't take power by killing off the other side.”

“But—”

“I have an idea,” he said. “One that I hope will settle this for good. You said Andrew's alive?”

“I just knocked him out.”

“Good, then. I'll call Antonio, see if he can get back here sooner than tomorrow night.”

Nine o'clock Friday morning. We met at Stonehaven. When Malcolm arrived, Antonio ushered him into the living room with Raymond and Daniel. Seeing Andrew alive, Raymond's eyes lit up, but any remaining hope for his brother and eldest son died as Jeremy explained what had happened.

When Raymond heard the news, he walked quietly to the sofa and sat down. Daniel flew at me, as if it was my fault Wally and Stephen had tried to kill Jeremy. Antonio intercepted Daniel, then led him to a chair and signaled for Peter to guard him. Throughout it all, Malcolm just stood there, expressionless. Then he shook his head.

“I don't know how this happened,” he said. “I knew they were getting restless, but I didn't think they'd try this.”

Andrew's head shot up, and he opened his mouth, but a look from his father cut him short.

“So you had nothing to do with this,” Jeremy said.

Malcolm's mouth tightened. “Are you calling me a liar, boy?”

“Yes, I am. I've been to Pearl's house. I found her body. You did a good job of making it look like a heart attack, but your scent was everywhere.”

“That's because I went by there a couple of days ago—”

“Clay?” Jeremy cut in. “Tell us what you heard.”

I related what Wally and Stephen had said in the study when they'd thought I'd been asleep. Malcolm rubbed a hand across his mouth and I could tell he was thinking fast.

“Clayton may have misinterpreted what he heard,” Malcolm said carefully. “I knew Stephen was looking for an excuse to kill him and I'd forbidden it, but that was months ago—a general rule, not related to any specific circumstances.”

“Bullshit!” I said, wheeling on Malcolm. “I didn't mishear—”

Jeremy raised his hand. “It's not important. If Malcolm says they acted alone, then we have to take his word for it. However, that leaves us with a problem.” He turned to look at Andrew. “Conspiring to kill a Pack brother is a capital offense.”

Andrew paled. “No, I—”

At a glare from Malcolm, Andrew closed his mouth.

Jeremy continued. “If Andrew acted on orders from someone he considered to be in an Alpha position, then he can't be held responsible. However, if he acted on his own, or along with his uncle and brother, the punishment is death. That's the Law.”

Raymond glanced up. His gaze went first to his son, then to Malcolm, and a look passed between them. Raymond turned to his son and gave a small nod, telling him everything would be okay.

“Are you Alpha?” Malcolm asked quietly.

“No,” Jeremy said.

“Then you can't make that decision, can you?”

“It's not a decision,” Jeremy said. “I will abide by the Law. If Andrew acted on your command, he lives. If not, he dies. The only person who can ‘decide’ anything is you. Tell us what happened and, if necessary, the punishment will be carried out.”

“By you?” Malcolm said, walking over to stand behind Andrew. “That is the Law, you know. He tried to kill you, therefore it's your right—and duty—to kill him yourself.” He met Jeremy's gaze. “Can you do that…
Son?”

Jeremy looked into Malcolm's eyes. “The question isn't how far I'll go, but how far you will…
Father
.”

They locked gazes for a moment. Then Malcolm snarled, reached up … and broke Andrew's neck.

“That's how far I'll go,” he said as Andrew's body fell to the floor.

The room went silent. Jeremy paled, as shocked as the rest of us. I glanced over at Raymond. He stared at his son's body, face contorting with pain. Then he glanced up at Malcolm and, for a second, rage replaced the grief. Malcolm tensed. Then Raymond dropped his gaze, got to his feet, put his arm around Daniel and led him from the room.

A few moments later, the front door clicked shut behind them. Malcolm launched himself at Jeremy, face twisted in a snarl. I lunged into his path, and threw him against the wall. He recovered and shot back. I braced myself, but he veered past, heading for Jeremy again. I grabbed Malcolm by the shoulders. He twisted and knocked my feet out from under me, but I kept my hold and we both went down.

Once down, and fighting, it should have been a fair match. Yet instead of trying to incapacitate me, Malcolm just kept trying to throw me off, his attention still fixed on Jeremy. Within minutes, I had him pinned, my forearm jammed against his throat.

As I pressed down, he barely struggled and, for a moment, I thought this was what he wanted—a wolf's death. But then he met my eyes and, as his widened in disbelief, I realized he hadn't struggled because he hadn't really thought I'd kill him. But when he looked into my face, he saw his mistake.

Whatever bond he thought we shared only went one way. And when he saw that, a look passed over his face, something akin to grief.

“Clayton,” Jeremy said sharply. “Let him up.”

I stopped pressing down on Malcolm's windpipe and looked up at Jeremy. “We can't trust him, Jer. You know we can't.”

“Let him up and he'll leave. There's nothing here for him.” When I hesitated, he added a soft “Please.”

As much as I longed to finish what I'd begun, Jeremy was right. With the Santoses gone, the fight for Alpha was over. Jeremy had won. To begin his reign by condoning the death of his defeated opponent would taint his Alphahood forever.

I grabbed Malcolm by the arm and yanked him to his feet. As I did, I leaned over him and whispered in his ear, too low for Jeremy to hear.

“I'll be waiting for an excuse,” I said. “Remember that.”

Without waiting for a response or a reaction, I twisted him around, grabbed him by the shoulders and escorted him to the door. Then, with Jeremy behind me, we stood and watched Malcolm leave.

He didn't look back.

As we'd feared, the fight for Alpha had indeed split the Pack in two. Only we six were left. A few months later, Ross Werner returned, and Jeremy accepted him back without comment. When another year passed with no word from Dennis and Joey, Jeremy sent me and Nick to search for them, but it was hopeless. As Joey had said, there was plenty of room to lose yourself in out there, and he and his father had done just that. Years later, we'd hear that they'd settled in Alaska. Jeremy eventually resumed contact with Dennis, but they never returned.

Under Jeremy, the Pack reinvented itself, a slow but steady process. We paid more attention to mutts, keeping them off our territory while at the same time watching them, and acting if they did anything to call attention to themselves and werewolves
in general. In this, I became Jeremy's enforcer, along with Antonio. Before the next decade ended, Antonio would bow out of this job, and I'd have a new partner—one that would turn the Pack upside-down yet again, fill the void in my life… and nearly end it, on multiple occasions.