Secrets and Shadows (38 page)

In their stal s the horses whinnied, pawed, and snorted, eyes rol ing as Pietr shook out his dark coat, rumbling like thunder. Al shadow and stealth, he stank of a wild and untamable tundra that horses only dared dream of running. He stepped toward Derek. Away from me.

dared dream of running. He stepped toward Derek. Away from me.

Hooves hammered against the wal s and I pul ed myself up, weak-kneed, to whisper soothing words to the horses. I moved down the line, stroking anxious faces, blowing my breath—so familiar—into their flaring nostrils. Fil ing their noses with
my
scent, their eyes with
my
face.

“You know,” Derek said, hands running along the barn wal , searching for a new weapon, “when your maker first realized you actual y existed, he was horrified by what he’d created. He knew he’d failed.

There were so many—abominations—beasts—
monsters
. He hunted and eradicated al he could find

—put them down like dogs,” he sneered. “Probably some of your relatives, I guess. You al started as a government plan initiated in a single vil age, you know.”

The wolf snorted.

“Oh. You didn’t know that, either, did you? Shit. Everyone’s keeping secrets around here. Everyone’s tel ing lies.” He looked at me and laughed, the noise sending shivers racing up and down my spine. “Go ahead—Bolkgorod—look it up sometime. And ignore what they say about it being wiped out by an avalanche. That happened after they had the kids they needed and the parents’ bodies were at risk of being found. One big bang covered their tracks neatly. Russian ingenuity.” He chuckled. “Hey. You keep track of time, right, mutt?” Derek asked.

The wolf blinked, muscles sliding beneath his thick coat, coiling to spring.

“Time’s almost up!” Derek shouted, barreling toward me. His feet flew up, connecting with my knee with a crunch. I fel , twisting awkwardly, screaming, my eyes streaming. My knee burned like someone had a torch on it. Derek raced toward the barn’s back door, disappearing.

Pietr, stil wolf, started after him, but skidded to a stop, hay flying into the air as he spun back for me.

I gasped, struggling for breath and clutching my knee as the wolf licked my tears away and nuzzled my neck. “Shit, shit, shit!” I snapped.

And then the wolf was Pietr, his nose in my hair, warning softly, “Language,” as he reached down to my aching knee, his wary eyes watching the doors.

With careful fingers he explored the joint, testing my leg tentatively. “Badly sprained.”

I snarled. Mad as hel . I’d kept him from getting Derek under control. Maybe if they could catch him—not kil him—please, no more kil ing … And not be near his hands too long … “Crap. We need to find Rio.…”

Pietr leaned over and kissed me, slipping an arm under my back to raise me to him. I whimpered as my knee straightened and he readjusted our position, pressing his mouth along the line of my lips. “Shhh. Let her calm down. We’l get her in a moment.” I opened my mouth to him—to my hero, wanting to have his taste, scent, and feel blot out the poison Derek had left in my mouth and my mind.

“Pants,” I whispered into his lips, and he nodded, easing me onto a haybale.

In a flash he was back. The events of the day washed over me and I sobbed, shaking. Pietr threw his arms around me, pul ing me onto his lap and rocking me ever so slightly, his mouth by my ear, making soothing sounds.

“You’re safe now,” he promised. “I’l have Max and Alexi deal with Derek. I’m not leaving your side. Your father wil have to cope—or I’l have to tel him the truth.” He sighed. “God. This isn’t easy.”

“Stating the obvious,” I said, kissing him into silence. I didn’t want to hear anything, think anything—just the pounding of his heart, the gentle panting of his breath.… Just another minute or two of peace in his the pounding of his heart, the gentle panting of his breath.… Just another minute or two of peace in his arms and we’d go for Rio. And then we’d face my father. Together.

We could make our own normal.

We both heard the car pul up. Doors opened, feet crunched on gravel and ground across dirt.

“This is awful,” Wanda whispered. “Look at her, Leon,” she said to my dad. “What the hel has she done to herself this time?”

“Done to myself?” I asked, numb, pul ing my face away from Pietr’s fiery chest to see Dad, Wanda, and Dr. Jones watching us. “I’ve never done
anything
to myself.…”

“The gun under your pil ow. The slash on your arm. The number of times you showed up to counseling late or disheveled—hurt and with no good explanation,” Dr. Jones said, listing my offenses. She held out a clipboard to my father. “And here you are with a boy—”

“Who just got suspended for fighting,” Dad whispered.

“He was
protecting
me!”

Dr. Jones intoned, “It’s like we discussed. We need to take more drastic measures.”

“More drastic…?”

“We have to protect Jessie,” Wanda urged.

My stomach soured as my father accepted a pen and scrawled something across the papers on the clipboard.

“Protect me … What are you talking about?” So far nobody’s attempts at protecting me had helped me at al . “Dad,” I whispered, “Rio’s run off. We need to find her.…”

Dad glared at Pietr.

Dr. Jones walked toward me, and Pietr held me tighter, his chin on my shoulder as he curled me back into him, tucking me against him.

“We’ve decided you aren’t making sufficient progress during weekly sessions. That you need a more exclusive environment in which to heal.”

“A more exclusive … environment?”

“We’ve arranged for you to have a room at Pecan Place for a while,” Dr. Jones said, smiling.

“Pecan Place—
where the nuts gather
,” I muttered, remembering what the kids had said growing up.

“The mental institution? No,” I insisted, my voice rising. “No, no,
no
!”

Pietr clutched me closer. “I won’t let them take you, Jess. I promise.”

I grabbed his arm and buried my head in his chest. “Please,” I whispered, “
Puhzhalsta
…”

A growl built softly in his stomach, rumbling and climbing toward his chest. “Don’t touch her,” he warned.

Dr. Jones looked at Dad.

“Now, Jessie, this is the best thing we can do for you. Your doctor has convinced me of that fact. You need additional time and treatment. You know she’s trying to do what she thinks is best for you.…” He rubbed a hand across his forehead. “I want you to cooperate. Pietr, let her go.”

“
Nyet
,” he replied, biting the word off. “I wil not let you take her. She does not want to go.”

“Now, son…,” Dad drawled.

“Let go of her.”

“
Nyet,
Wanda,” he snapped. His breath was fire on my shoulder.

Dr. Jones made shushing noises. “It’s okay,” she consoled. “This occasional y happens. That’s why we always bring extra help.”

I heard car doors open, and two new sets of feet clomped toward us.

“Let her go,” Dr. Jones suggested.
So
mildly.

I looked up to see a mountain of a man towering above us. It would easily take three of Pietr to make one of him.

Huge and thick with muscle, he was built like God forgot to grant him a neck—his head on a broad, short column that was just a narrowing of shoulders. He swung his arms at his side, and I saw the flash of a tattoo on the inside of his tree trunk of a wrist. Russian Mafia? But it wasn’t any tattoo I’d seen before

—it was more like a single foreign letter.

“Do it, Pietr,” Wanda encouraged.

The mountain’s companion—stil bigger—grumbled above us.

Pietr looked up. And up. Pietr’s head final y stopped when he could lock eyes with one of them. “
Nyet
,”

he said.

The giants looked at each other and then lunged. The bigger one fel like a house of bricks on Pietr, pinning him to the floor while the smal er peeled me out of his arms with a grunt.

We stretched toward each other, fingers brushing a moment, as I said, “Witnesses,” warning against the change. Pietr’s expression was a dark echo of mine. Shock. Outrage.

Ten minutes earlier we had been readying to face the truth with my father,
together
. And now?

Pietr went wild, writhing beneath the big man’s bulk. Then he stopped. Suddenly placid and stil , seemingly out of breath, his eyes never left mine. And they shone like hel fire burned him from inside out.

“No,” I sobbed, fists flailing against the giant. The bigger man moved off of Pietr, got to his feet, and brushed himself off. Pietr rushed us, grabbing me, nearly pul ing me free, my arms and wrists popping before the big man’s body slammed him down again, elbowing him to the ground, smearing his face across the dirt.

“Now—” Dad started to say, objecting, but Wanda put a restraining hand on his arm.

“We’ve talked about this,” Dr. Jones reminded.

Pietr struggled to look at me, his nose streaming blood, a fresh gash across his forehead spil ing red into his eyes. His cheek was ragged, abraded raw.

“Pietr,” I whispered, his name tearing out of my throat as I choked back a cry. I was dumped on my feet and I screamed as the pain in my knee flashed through me, but the man’s arms wrapped me tight, holding me up with unbreakable bonds.

The one who had toppled Pietr sat up again, rubbing his elbow.

Pietr staggered to his feet, swaying, and shoved the big man aside with one more burst of strength, coming for me.

“Stop fighting, boy!” Dr. Jones shouted.

The bigger one grabbed Pietr by the shoulders and hurled him to the earth. I heard the crunch of breaking bones.

Pietr clutched his head, his face contorted in pain. He looked at me and, with a groan, tried to rise. He reached out for me, arms shaking with effort.

The big one snarled at Pietr, readying once more, and Dad shouted, “Hey now, let’s just stop—” Dad grabbed the clipboard, reaching to take the paper back.

Dr. Jones held her ground. “Mr. Gil mansen. This family is beyond broken. If you don’t want me to cal in Social Services and have them reconsider your youngest’s living arrangements, too—”

Dad froze.

“God. No, Pietr! No,” I cried, blinded by tears as he was thrown down again, his head cracking against the hardpacked dirt.

Dr. Jones continued. “You’l fol ow through with the treatment plan we’ve agreed upon for Jessica. I know this al seems very shocking right now, but it is for the best.”

Pietr’s body shuddered, but stil he tried to pul himself back up … for me. “Stay down! Oh, God, Pietr …

please, please stay down…,” I begged, my throat burning. “I’l go with you,” I whispered to Dr. Jones, grabbing at her sleeve. “Please. Just hurry. Before he tries again.”

I let them put me in the car—let them take me from Pietr, my battered hero—before they could break him anymore.

I screwed my eyes shut against the violence of the day, instead holding the memory of what I last saw tight in my mind.…

I remembered how, as our car pul ed down the drive, Dad and Wanda gingerly helped Pietr to his feet, their faces a mix of shock and fear. And I knew that no matter where I was being taken, if they could final y come together, there was stil hope for al of us.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I figured doing the acknowledgments for the second book in a series must be easier, right? But something I’m learning as I go is that things don’t necessarily get easier: They’re just different the second time around.

I have some different folks to thank this time. Please note: There wil inevitably be people I’ve forgotten or whom I can’t yet acknowledge because of timing. But hey, that’s why it’s doubly great there’s yet another book in the series!

Thanks to the generosity of Karen Alderman and her husband, Kevin, who set three alarms to place the winning bid. They won the
13 to Life
ARC and swag I donated to Do the Write Thing for Nashvil e. Talk about understanding teamwork and charitable giving! Likewise, thanks to Myra McEntire, Victoria Schwab, and Amanda Morgan, who organized and handled the fundraiser. Through their efforts (and the generosity of authors, bidders, and others) they raised more than seventy thousand dol ars in ten short days for a city in need. Jess would have been proud of their efforts—I know I am!

Thanks also to the generosity of Scott and Debbie of Texas who supported BeInANovel.com in 2009

and its charity, Operation Joy of Val ey Forge, Pennsylvania. Because of their bid Jess “got back on the horse,” so to speak.

To my ARC tour guides! Carla Black who immediately expressed interest in
13 to Life
and initiated a great UK ARC tour and has become one of my greatest cheerleaders after reading the book. She’s already read this one, too; it has her Wolf Girl seal of approval. Thanks to Katie Bartow of Texas, who picked up a faltering United States ARC tour and spread the wolf love! To Alyson Beecher, who read and loved
13 to Life
enough to pass it along to people to read and consider carrying in their stores and libraries. It’s through such efforts that books are discovered. I (and many other authors) very much appreciate such support.

To Lynsey Newton, who knew I was struggling with titles for this book and sent several awesome lists fil ed with great ideas.

To Jennzah Morris, who somehow got skipped over in
13 to Life
’s acknowledgments and has been a stalwart supporter of mine since Textnovel 2008! You rock, hon!

To the Class of 2k10! A wonderful group of talented debut YA and MG authors that made my debut year at once wonderful and amazingly busy. I recommend you read their books—there are some powerful voices emerging that I had the great pleasure of reading early on! You can check us al out at Classof2k10.com.

To Katy Hershberger in the St. Martin’s Press publicity squad and Eileen Rothschild in marketing, who cheer me on and gladly check out things I think might be worth pursuing. These girls are awesome, and I’m so glad they’re working on my series.