United (The Ushers) (19 page)

Dimly, Fionn was aware of fur flying and claws and teeth stinging, but he had eyes for one wolf only. He and Gordon Kirk locked onto each other, snapping and snarling. He felt his claws tearing flesh and the grim satisfaction of scoring first blood.

Without his human voice to compel them, Gordon was just a wolf, and he was no match for Fionn Murphy. They clashed together three separate times; each time, Fionn was able to inflict some small, slowing injuries on the other wolf. He was aware of his mate locked in with Jonny Kirk right beside them, and he wanted to tear the other wolf’s throat out for touching her.

Fionn let the part of him that was human shrink to occupy only the smallest part of his soul as he tore at Gordon Kirk a final time. This time, he landed the other wolf on his back, and he had his teeth sunk into his throat before the other wolf could submit to him. With a snarl, he ravaged the other wolf’s throat, leaving him bleeding and lifeless. He turned to see Monica standing over the smaller brown wolf behind them, her chest heaving. He let out a whine of query, and she answered with a lupine wink.

The Alphas around them had made short work of the lesser wolves surrounding them. The betas and omegas that had followed Gordon Kirk did not have the strength to mount a serious opposition to every Alpha in North America.

“Oh, my children,” a sad voice rumbled around them. Fionn looked up to see Tavis Kirk leaning on a crutch. The old man’s face appeared overwhelmed in grief. “My brothers, my children.”

Monica shifted first, followed by Fionn. She crossed to the old man, looked into his eyes. She saw the tears of genuine grief and remorse. A whimper escaped her lips as she felt his connection to Fionn strengthen, and then she was in his grief-ravaged mind. She felt the fear and the confusion as he submitted to his powerful brother. She felt how Gordon had twisted Tavis’s faith into something bent and wrong. She felt his loneliness, trapped in a broken body with his own memories growing dimmer as his brother’s ambitions ate away at him. She murmured a sound of comfort, pulling the old man into a hug. She felt his head turn to the side as he offered her his neck. She took it between her teeth and felt him rush into her as she offered him the one thing he needed more than anything: her forgiveness. He touched her cheek, and he looked into her eyes.

“Thank you, Monica Murphy,” he whispered, his scarred face lighting up with relief. “We have to stop her.”

“Who?” she asked. As a familiar face filled her mind, her eyes widened. “No.” She scrambled for her cellphone, punching in Bianca’s name.

“Hiya, Mon! How’s the campaign faring?” Bianca’s voice came over the line.

“Where are you?”

“Cafeteria with Gerard, Ellen, and Kathy. How come?”

“Are you carrying?”

“Of course I am. We all are.”

“Pull out your sidearm, right now, and put it to Kathy’s head.”

“Okay.”

Monica held her breath as she heard the shouts of surprise on the other end of the line. From Ellen. Not from Kathy. Her heart sank.

“Bianca. Disarm her. Put her in a holding cell, and put Gerard on her. Keep Ellen with you, and go to my apartment. Stay there until Fionn and Jack and I get back. She’s not who we thought she was.”

“Who is she?”

“She’s Kathy Kirk.”

They heard Jack’s howl of outrage as he shifted back into his human form.

“Go, Jack. Take the Benz. The keys are inside.” She looked at Tavis. “You and I are going to have a long talk, Mr. Kirk. Okay?”

The old man nodded, sorrow filling his face. “I am so sorry,” he whispered.

“I know,” she murmured. “Where can we get a cup of coffee?”

“There’s a Waffle House a couple of blocks from here.”

“Let’s go.”

They had brought several backpacks of clothing and left them outside the tent in case they pulled a shift-and-shred. Monica grabbed one of the packs and pulled out the T-shirts and jeans she found inside. She tossed one set of clothes to Fionn and dressed herself quickly in the other. She held out her arm to the old man, and he leaned on her as she helped him hobble to the nearby cars. Ted tossed her a set of keys, and she helped Tavis settle into a seat.

“Tavis, you gave me your throat. You’re under my protection,” she told him. “Do I need to fear your wolves?”

“No. They’re all gone now.” The old man sighed.

Fionn slipped into the driver’s seat as Monica climbed into the back.

At the little restaurant, they ordered coffee and settled in to hear what the old man had to say. They heard and felt some of their other wolves coming in to sit down at other tables, but their eyes were locked on Tavis.

“I lost my leg almost two hundred years ago,” he began. Monica’s eyebrow shot up. “Yes, little lady, I’m older than you.” He chuckled. “I was born in the seventeen hundreds. I’ve seen every war this nation has fought. Gordon and Jonny were born about one hundred fifty or one hundred sixty years ago. They aren’t full brothers—we have a different mother—but we all inherited our father’s vocal gifts.” Here, Tavis sighed, his hands shaking as he sipped his coffee. “At the time I lost my leg, I underwent a spiritual conversion, and I became a Christian. I lived for many years as a sort of itinerant preacher. Eventually, I settled down and mated a young wolf. She was beautiful, with auburn hair like a sunset and blue eyes that sparkled when she laughed. She made me feel whole, not caring in the least that I only had one leg. Around this time, my father was killed, and I ascended to Alpha. Gordon and Jonny hadn’t experienced their first shifts yet. My daughter, Kathy, was born in 1975. My mate, my wife, died in childbirth. Kathy was the only female wolf born to Appalachia in the last one hundred years.”

Tavis sighed heavily. “My brother Gordon was physically a much stronger man than I am. He challenged me, and I submitted without a fight. He used my faith to rally others, used my speaking skills to bind them to our family. I was happy for the audience, believing I was truly spreading the gospel. But Gordon has this way of fogging over your mind so you can’t think clearly, can’t even remember the words you spoke.”

Monica nodded, remembering the strange feelings she’d had in the tent as Fionn and Gordon waged their metaphysical struggle for her.

“He wants—no, wanted—to subjugate the humans. He saw them as an inferior race. He decided to use both my faith and theirs as a method of manipulating and controlling them so we could rise to supremacy among them.”

“And Kathy?” Monica asked, clenching her teeth as she thought about the friend who had betrayed her trust.

“Ah, my daughter.” He smiled sadly. “Gordon had his hands in her brain, as well, I’m afraid. He knew of Amazon. All those women. He sent her to you. She was to bring back brides for our wolves.”

Monica scowled. “You know the mate bond doesn’t work that way.”

“I know, lass. But Gordon didn’t care so much about that. He just wanted more wolves, and we couldn’t have them without women.”

“Why this, why now?”

“Unification was a threat to what he wanted to accomplish.” Kirk shrugged. “Gordon thought it would be easiest if the Mother never was freed. With the Albina pregnant with the third Usher, he decided now would be the perfect time to strike—when you sent her back to your compound with Kathy, the plan changed somewhat. Kathy was ordered to kill the Albina.”

Monica heard the growl ripping through Fionn’s throat, and she placed a hand on his arm.

“And now what?” She looked at Kirk.

“It’s done. I am not going to continue Gordon’s work, and I have no wolves left to lead. Appalachia dies here with me.” He sighed. “And I suppose that’s for the best, now don’t you, lass?”

“We can send wolves south to live here,” Monica said softly.

“I won’t object to any wolves coming in and establishing a pack here. But I will not lead them. I’m an old man with one leg and quite a heavy burden on my soul. I plan to retire to a life of prayer and atonement.”

“Thank you, for warning us in time about Kathy.” She clasped his hand tightly in hers.

“I don’t object to the Mother returning, lass. My faith is not so narrow as all that.” He smiled. “And I would prefer my Kathy not become a traitor in deed; she’s been fighting for her soul for many months now. Will you go easy on her?” he pleaded.

“It’s not my place to choose the vengeance. This is Bianca’s choice,” she said, patting his trembling hand. “I don’t know what she will decide. But I’ll speak to Bianca on Kathy’s behalf. I’ve felt Gordon’s compulsion, and I understand how she could have been manipulated.”

“Thank you, Monica Murphy.” The old man sighed. “That’s more than we deserve.”

Chapter Twenty

F
IONN
A
ND
T
HE
O
THER
A
LPHAS
had cleared the bodies from the area in front of the tent by the time the humans began trickling back into the clearing, exhausted and confused. It was short work to disarm them, one by one, as they arrived. Tavis had agreed to speak one last sermon—using his oratory skills to help the humans forget they’d ever heard of werewolves.

Graham and Annie followed, Annie holding Devon in her arms. All thoughts of peace vanished from Fionn’s mind as he saw his child cradled in Annie’s arms, bleeding. He saw the blood, and his own ran cold. In that moment, everything stopped. His veins filled with ice, and his heart seemed to stutter its terror. Fionn felt his teeth start to shift, and he gave into his wolf for a moment, letting the animal take over, his clothes shredding around him as he let his head rip back in a howl. Then he brought his human side back to the surface.

“Annie?” he shouted, running toward her.

“He’s okay,” she whispered, kneeling and laying him on the ground. “He’s okay, Fionn,” she reassured him as he knelt next across from her. In sleep, Devon looked very young.

Annie gently released her hand from where she was applying pressure to a wound on Dev’s shoulder and moved Fionn’s to cover it. He held his shaking hand firm over his son’s shoulder and looked at his Guide.

“I was trying to talk to him, trying to convince him to come back here. They were confused, you know?” Annie’s feline eyes bore into Fionn’s. “Graham was beside me. One of the other humans fired at him, spraying flechettes in all directions; some of them hit Dev in the shoulder. The wound isn’t deep, but it’s messy, and it bled a lot.”

“I dosed him,” Graham said. “That’s why he’s sleeping. He’s okay, really. Goddess, these humans are lousy shots. I can clean his shoulder and bandage it better at the hotel than in the woods. He shouldn’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Thank you, Graham.” Fionn sighed his relief, pulling the other man into a hug.

He felt, rather than heard, his mate coming up beside him. She knelt by his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“They’re all in the tent. Tavis is going to speak now,” she murmured.

“I’m not going to bring Dev in there,” he told her. “I want him to remember. I don’t want to keep any more secrets from my children.”

She nodded, smiling. “I figured. I’ll get the first aid kit from Ted’s car.”

By the time Devon came to, they had moved him to the hotel room, where Fionn and Monica were staying. Fionn sat by his bedside, watching Dev sleep. He heard his son’s breathing pattern change, and he readied himself for whatever this conversation would bring. Monica felt his anxiety, brushed a kiss to his forehead. She winked at him and let herself out of the room.