The Trouble with Fate (8 page)

He weighed his answer before replying, but evidently his fear of his Alpha was greater
than his fear of wearing an eye patch for the rest of his Were life. He clamped his
lips shut.

“I’m losing patience,” I said.

“Bitch, you are so done. You’re so done. You’ve hurt one of the pack.”

The pack, the pack. I’d lost a family, reinvented myself, gone from burden to breadwinner,
supported my aunt and myself over the last two years—and come to think of it, Merry—all
without the help of the pack, and yet, here it was. The pack used against me like
some sort of acid against my soul.

Stuart tried to sneer but it was a sad, lopsided effort, with Merry embedded in his
cheek muscle, and blood coating the gums of his white teeth. There was a light shadow
of a beard against the lower part of his jaw. I felt tired, looking at him with his
Hollywood tough guy smile.

“All right, last time. This woman.” I shuffled back to Lou’s photo, pausing to push
my glasses back on my nose, before turning the BlackBerry toward him. “Where is she?”

“Why don’t you look in the hospitals?” He shook his head as if I were the dumb one.
“My Alpha’s going to come looking for you after this.”

“Merry,” I said coldly. “Do your worst.”

He wasn’t strong enough to hold back a scream, or to stop his bound feet from drumming
on the ground. If my parents had seen me watch him writhe, with that horrible little
smile I could feel on my mouth, they would have disowned me.

“Stop,” I said when bile started to rise in my throat as his shrieks became piercing.
Scawens took a few harsh shudders of breath. Under that I could hear his heart beat,
fast and hard, even harder than mine, which was trying to pull itself free from the
monster I’d become.

“It can be worse,” I whispered to him, trying not to look at the right side of his
face. “She’s nothing more than a frightened old lady. She has no power left anymore.
She can’t do anything with an amulet. Why don’t you tell me where to find her? You
don’t have to suffer like this.”

He swallowed and then looked at me, hate making his eyes too old, and too bright.
“He’s going to rip your head off when he gets you.”

“You’re very fond of ripping things, aren’t you?” Merry’s chain sawed on my neck as
I lifted my shoulders to ease the ache between them. We were still tied together,
Scawens and I, by an Asrai without human or even Were morals.

“Merry, let him go.” She held on for five more seconds, and then released her grip
to fall in a hard lump of gold and amber against my chest. I brought a tentative hand
up to her, before cupping her in my cold palm. She was sticky with blood.

I picked up his phone and opened it to Trowbridge’s photo. “Last question. What do
you want with this guy?”

He spat again.

“So, not a friend.”

He stared at me with silent hatred.

“I’m going to let you go, Stuart Scawens,” I said. “Go back to your Alpha. Tell him
that I don’t have it, but I know where to get the amulet.” I stood up, keeping my
eyes steady on him. I could feel payback creeping up on me. You can’t use Fae power
in this realm without paying its price of pain, nausea, and fatigue. The adrenaline
that had kept them at bay was wearing off.

I leaned into his face. “I’ll call him in twenty-four hours or less. You tell him
to keep Lou safe. No harm should come to her. We’ll trade. She’s a crazy old lady
with no special powers to her at all. If he gives her back, I’ll give him the amulet
he wants. And Scawens? Tell him that you’re my last messenger. After this, he’ll be
picking up body parts. Make sure he gets the message before anything happens to her.”

Scawens braced his legs and heaved upward, fighting to stand upright. Stupid male,
get a hernia, why don’t you? The radiator was solid iron, pure enough that I couldn’t
have touched it without the gloves (even if its metal
was
coated with five layers of paint), and it was connected to yards of pipe.

“You don’t have to run off now. Ladies first.” I tucked his cell into my pocket.

He made one more effort, his teeth clenched, his muscles bunching, his thin lips drawn
back to expose his bloody teeth. The pipe made a mournful betraying sound, and he
lunged as it snapped.

Freaking iron.

There was no time for finesse. I called and my power answered. It hit him with everything
in the room. Books, tables, DVDs, knitting work, chair, faux wood shelving, even the
dog poker poster flew around him like the wings of a devil. He swung about, trying
to use the radiator that dangled from him as a shield, but then something hit his
unprotected head again with a thunk, and he slumped, slow motion over the twisted
metal. It wasn’t enough though. The mix of anger and fear sank low, picked up any
remaining viciousness sitting deep inside me, and threw it back, bringing everything
that had fallen airborne again into a terrible vortex that spun around him in a black
cloud. His mouth was wide open when the cloud exploded over him in another smothering
rain of debris. I didn’t drop my hands until the last book dropped onto the heap piled
on top of his still body. A knitting needle was impaled in his chest. It shivered
when he breathed.

I snatched up my backpack and ran.

Down the stairs. Around the landing. Through the door. Across the parking lot. I didn’t
even bother with the flimsy lock on the garage’s side door, I just strong-armed through
it. Then I was in the driver’s seat, fitting the key into the ignition of the Taurus.

I heard a loud “Bitch!” from the stairwell. I shoved the car into gear and hit the
gas before the car door even closed.

The Taurus took wing, clipping the side of the garage in one long tearing crumple
of metal as we hurtled away. I made the turn onto the street, heart banging away under
my bruised ribs, and then we were free, running straight up the narrow street away
from the lake, and away from the danger that was still spewing curses from the parking
lot of Twice Read Books. We blew through the first red light.

Halfway up the second block, I looked in Bob’s rearview, fully expecting to see an
angry wolf taped to a radiator charging after me. But the road was empty, save for
a nimble pedestrian who’d leaped out of the way. He stood frozen on the pavement,
his face a WTF pictogram. I lifted my foot from the accelerator, reached painfully
out and snagged the handle of my car door. When it clicked shut, I hit the gas again,
hard.

*   *   *

I’d convinced myself, during that white-knuckle drive to the hospital, that Scawens
was full of crap, and that when I walked back into the emergency room, I’d find Lou
sitting upright, her dark gray eyes alive and snapping.

What I found were three cop cars in the emergency bay. I drove past the hospital’s
parking lot in search of an empty space on a side street, since I didn’t need spidey
sense to know it would be faster to use the ER’s doors, but smarter to go through
the hospital’s lobby and worm my way back to the treatment area. My rubber heels squeaked
as I followed the signs for the radiology department. I walked past it, and found
the unmarked corridor that led back to the ER treatment rooms. No cop gauntlet to
pass this time. The hallway was almost empty, save for a couple of paramedics filling
out paperwork.

All the cops were clustered outside Lou’s cubicle. Her bedsheets had been discarded
on the floor. One end of the curtain had been torn off its track. A cop nodded, fingering
his belt, as he listened to an agitated nurse. Two more cops were beside an orderly,
who was rubbing his shoulder while looking suitably heroic.

Scawens’s goons had hurt her. I could smell the sweet scent of a woodland Fae blood
over the ER’s usual perfume of pain, illness, and disinfectant. Were scent was there
as well, though the smell felt off to me, like a sweet piece of fruit that had spent
too long in the vegetable drawer.

I turned on my heel. No one stopped me with a “Hey you.” No one followed.

*   *   *

I don’t remember getting into the car or driving past all those dark homes where families
slept. For all I know, Merry drove. When I came back to myself, the car was in the
middle of Sears’s empty parking lot, and my foot was on the brake, while the engine
rattled as it ticked over. My glasses were on the dash, beside the rubber gloves.

Adrenaline was gone, leaving behind shock and payback pain. I threw open the door
and heaved. Technically, you can’t throw up a cookie twice, but my stomach gave it
a try. Each time I convulsed, my foot jerked off the brake pedal, making the car bunny-hop
forward. We were going places, the Taurus and I. One hop at a time.

Eventually I stopped heaving. With a shaky sigh, I leaned against the padded headrest
and listened to the Taurus’s indignant ding. I tried, but it is virtually impossible
to ignore a dinging door alarm, even if you know that it is going to hurt like a bitch
to close the door. I wrapped my arm around my rib cage in a self-hug and then reached
out, biting down on my lips as my ribs had a tantrum. I felt for the handle blindly,
too afraid to catch a glimpse of my crispy fried hand. A few shits and fucks later,
my fingers brushed pebbled plastic.

Shock was receding, but the throbbing misery in my hands was growing.

Geez Louise. Now I knew why Mum came down hard if we even flirted with using our talent
for anything other than mild amusement. They could have spared us all the “stay low/don’t
show” lectures and told us the unvarnished truth: you stick your head out of the foxhole,
and someone is going to take a shot at you. Use your magic with a dark heart, and
it will turn around and bite you on the ass with teeth as sharp as a hungry shark’s.

I hurt, really hurt. And the pain was worse, getting hotter and more horrible with
each breath. The black dots dancing in front of my eyes joined together into one huge
black hole and I start spinning toward a place I dread.

Of all the dreams, my own were the worst.

I dreamed of the old cupboard and the last time I saw Robbie Trowbridge.

*   *   *

It starts with the memory of us doing normal stuff. That’s usually how I slide into
my personal nightmare, each time seduced by the sweet comfort of our family’s routine.
We eat dinner, the four of us sitting at the round oak table. Then it’s homework,
and some TV. Mum tucks me into bed, and tells me lights out. I can hear Lexi on the
other side of the wall, playing with his G.I. Joes. He’s making
chuh-chuh-chuh
noises for gunfire.

I fall asleep, listening to him.

I wake with a start, feeling frightened. “Mum?” She doesn’t answer, so I get out of
bed, and go down the dark hall to the kitchen. Mum’s standing in her nightgown by
the table, an expression of dread on her face. Dad has his arm around her. “Are you
sure?”

She rubs her arm and nods. “I can feel it on my skin.”

“I’ll stop them,” he says.

“Don’t go out there. Promise me you’ll stay here with us.” But as Mum pulls out her
ward stuff from the top drawer—some herbs and that long lariat that she uses to make
her magic set—he takes the shotgun off the rack, and starts down the path to the pond.
She bites her lip and begins casting protection spells on the windows, chanting so
fast the words all run into each other.

When she speaks, I jump; her hands don’t even pause. “Hedi, go wake your brother.”

I don’t. I should, but I don’t. Instead, I follow Dad outside.

He’s by the pond, with his weapon in his hands. I can feel a shiver running right
up my spine and goose bumps rise on my skin. Daddy raises his gun and points it at
the water.

The first thing I see is a mist, not a fog, but a mist that curls upward. It’s colorless
at first, and then the mist tints to a purple that softens to violet. And I smell
flowers. Sweet, like freesias. The air has cleared in the middle of the gate, so I
can see the other side, shimmering through a thin veil. I hear a wolf yip from Merenwyn.
Dad shifts his balance, and bends his head so he can squint down the site on his shotgun.

A gray wolf is running toward us, hardly breaking stride before he leaps through the
barrier. From Merenwyn, I hear the shiver of bells, silver-sharp and sweet, and for
a moment, just long enough for me to suck in a breath, he is frozen in the air separating
this world and that, before he lands on our side. Dad lowers the gun, and swears.
Paws splayed, the wolf skids right off the end of the portal’s edge, and lands in
our pond with a splash.

A Were falling into our swimming hole. Everyone knows Weres can’t swim.

I cover my mouth, but don’t laugh, because right away, Dad wades in after him. He
pulls the wolf out by his ruff, and starts cursing him. “Do you know what this will
do to Rose and the kids? Did you think? Did you ever stop and think?” The wolf wobbles
over to a patch of weeds and collapses. Dad’s shoulders slump. When he speaks his
voice is flat. “If they come after you for breaking the Treaty, I won’t stand in their
way. I won’t lose my family over this.” He looks at the portal. It’s daylight on the
other side. I can see the sun shining off the water there.

“You just had to do it,” Dad says, still watching the portal with narrow eyes. “Why’d
you go there? Do you really think you’re a better Were now? You don’t even smell like
pack anymore. It’s not moon time, and you’re in wolf form. You better hope that you
can change back.” He scowls at the Were. “You’ve crossed the line. The Alpha has to
know.”

Mum was wrong. The portal does accept Weres
.

My foot slips on the shale. Dad turns. His face fills with blood, and he yells, “Get
back up to the house. Now!” I don’t like it when Daddy’s so mad. It freezes me, like
he’s a predator, and I’m something with a soft white belly. He says it again, louder.
“Now!”

Behind him, the wolf surges to his feet, taking advantage of Dad’s divided attention.
He charges, hitting Daddy square in the back. The gun goes off as they fall. Then,
they’re rolling, and grappling, twisting on the ground, churning up weeds and last
year’s leaves in a to-the-death struggle.