“Doesn’t mean we can’t worry about her,” Amanda points out.
“Last week Colin came back from a sweep with his arm nearly hanging off, and you all laughed in his face.”
“As is appropriate when one loses a fight against a bear,” Jorma says, straight-faced.
Saul seems to agree. “I’d forgotten that you’d declared it against the law to be excellent to each other, Koen.”
“Make sure you write it down, then.”
“Once again, if we had an HR department, they would be so busy dealing with . . .” Saul’s phone pings. He trails off to read a message, and when he looks up, he’s all business. “Alpha, Lowe is ready to talk.”
Koen nods. I expect him to walk out to take the call, but Amanda fiddles with a cable, and a moment later a flat screen I hadn’t noticed slowly whirs to life.
Several people appear, all of them known to me from my time in the Southwest. There’s Lowe, of course. The redheaded second whose name has clearly rotted out of my mind. Alex, the IT guy who taught me how to play
Grand Theft Auto. And . . .
“Look who ran out of toilet paper and decided to rejoin civilization,” Misery says with a wide smile. Her pale elfin face is as close as I’ll ever get to having a home. I guess it’s fitting, then, how foreign she looks of late.
She stopped bothering with contacts or filing her canines, which fills me with joy. For the first time in her life, she’s happy, protected, and invested in the world around her.
Are you jealous of her relationship with Lowe? Amanda once asked me, and I get why she’d think that. Growing up, it used to be Misery and me- just the two of us, hand in hand against the world. Now it’s Misery and Lowe and the cute child she’s somehow step-mommying despite having no business being left alone with someone whose fontanelles have barely closed. And yes, me too. Somewhere out yonder. In the periphery.
But I told Amanda that I wasn’t, and it’s the truth. I don’t think I’m capable of jealousy. It’s a feeling that requires the assumption that something is due, and I never developed that. Years in an orphanage, then more years as the Collateral’s baby doll, will beat the possessiveness out of anyone.
Still, change requires adjustment- and secrets require distance. When I realized that I needed to step away, I mixed truth and lies, said I was overstimulated, and asked for an isolated place to acclimatize to my Were senses. Misery and Lowe didn’t love the idea of me leaving the Southwest, but they believed the tale I spun.
Want to know who didn’t believe it? Koen. Why some guy I’d met two months earlier was better than my lifelong friend at reading through my bullshit is something I have no intention of pondering.
“Just kidding about the toilet paper,” Misery adds. “I know you people just shift into wolves and lick your own butts.”
Next to her, Lowe winces but pulls her closer. If things go to shit tomorrow, today, in five minutes, at least I can be reassured that the person I care about the most is in excellent hands. I’m genuinely happy for her.
Though maybe a little less when she tells me, “Serena, you look like shit.”
“Seriously?” I scowl. “Is no one interested in sparing my feelings?”
Misery’s and Koen’s “nope” are perfectly in unison. He takes a seat next to me, close enough for our thighs to touch, legs stretched out on the coffee table and calves crossed. The picture of relaxed boredom. “So,” he starts, “what the fuck just happened, and who do I kill?”
I refrain from pointing out the obvious:
Bob the Vampyre and
You already have.
Lowe sighs. “We are producing a list.”
“Nice.” Koen sounds ready to roll up his sleeves. “I’ll take the first ten names.”
“What happened up at the cabin?” Lowe asks.
“Yeah, Serena,” Misery adds. “How hard did you maul the guy who tried to come for you?”
I freeze, loath to admit how much of a wimp I am.
“He won’t be bothering her anymore,” Koen says flatly. “She made sure of it.” Definitely not the whole truth, but Misery equivocates and gives me a proud, fangy smile.
“Actually,” I start guiltily, “if Koen hadn’t been there- “
I stop, because suddenly the screen is fully taken up by a pair of piercing light green eyes. They blink at me as a small, sleepy voice asks, “Serena, did they tell you I lost two tooths?” The angle shifts, and a small tongue wiggles in and out of a wide front gap. For way longer than is needed for a demonstration.
Ana. My heart nearly bursts with love for her. For some reason, my hands start trembling. “Nope.” I try to firm up my voice. “They rudely kept it from me.”
“I thought so.” She pulls back, just enough for me to see her give the adults behind her a disappointed look. “Someone will bring me money. A fairy. A creepy fairy made of tooths.”
“We’ve been over this, pest. The fairy takes the teeth, but she’s not made of . . .” Misery waves her hand. “You know what? Sure. The damn fairy is made of enamel and pulp.”
“Ana, it’s too early for you to be up,” Lowe says, failing to sound stern. “Remember that you promised that after saying hi to Serena, you’d go back to bed?”
“Okay. Bye, Serena,” she says cheerfully, stopping to kiss her brother on the cheek and to blow a raspberry on a resigned Misery’s arm.
I watch her disappear, trying not to think about the fact that there are people out there who would be willing and capable of hurting her, until Koen says, “I thought the Vampyre council had agreed to stop fucking with Weres.”
“It’s a complicated situation,” Lowe acknowledges. “As you know, Owen, Misery’s brother, has been trying to consolidate control over the Vampyre council and convince them to agree to a trilateral peace treaty with the Weres and the Humans.”
“With mixed results, given the frequent mentions of his suddenly receding hairline,” Misery informs us. It’s unclear whom the recap is for. Probably me, the one voted most likely to forsake an internet connection and melt into the underbrush.
“After Serena’s interview,” Lowe continues, “Human public opinion has become highly favorable toward Weres. Disclosing the genetic compatibility was a gamble, and it paid off. The alliance Maddie and I have formed is stronger than ever. Peaceful coexistence, demilitarized areas, softer borders- none of this would have been possible even six months ago.”
“And the Vampyres are feeling left out?” Saul asks.
“The Vampyres have been invited to the playdate,” Misery says. “But for interspecies alliances the council needs a supermajority, and some members think it’s all a trick to weaken their position in the Southwest area.”
Koen snorts. “These crusty Vampyres really believe other species think about them that much, huh?”
“That’s exactly what
I said,” Misery points out. They share a look, brief but full of contempt. Shocking, how well they get along. “Basically,” Misery continues, “someone on the council wants to blow up the alliance between the Weres and the Humans, and they put a bounty on Serena’s head, and now any Vampyre in want of a fortune is after her.”
“How did they track her down?” Koen asks. “Only Amanda and I knew her location.”
“That is my . . . well, I don’t know that one would say fault, per se, but . . .” Alex timidly clears his throat, wringing his hands. I suspect he finds regular Koen terrifying- and angry Koen bloodcurdling. “When I gave Serena the satellite phone, I, um, recorded it with her initials to keep, uh, track of it,” he finishes in a hush.
“How thorough of you. Why not add a couple recent pictures, just to give the kidnappers a visual aid?”
“Actually.” Alex swallows. “There may have been one.”
Never mind Alex,
I am scared of Koen. I slide my hand on his leg, feeling the warm flesh of his thigh through his jeans. His muscles clench tight, then abruptly relax.
“Do we know which councilmembers set the bounty?” I ask.
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