Kelly Meding - Wrong Side of Dead

What was it with Therians and the word “mate”? I hated that word, and I hated what it implied about a relationship—that it was about reproduction, not love. Phin’s admission about his late wife was proof enough that it was much more than simple biology for Therians. They were just as capable of great love as humans.

“The wolf still doesn’t like you,” Wyatt said to Phin. He used the sleeve of his gown to wipe the blood off his lips and chin, wincing as he scraped the twin cuts.

Phin nodded. “For good reason.”

“I apologize for my insinuations.”

“They were understandable, under the circumstances.”

“You mean my split personality?”

“So to speak. My intention in coming here was not to fight with you, despite its mood-altering benefits.”

That got my attention fast. “What is it? Thackery?” I asked.

“Sort of. I have an idea about how to find those three missing Lupa, and I need Wyatt’s help to do it.”

2:55 P.M.

“To do what exactly?” Wyatt asked.

Phin took a few steps forward, putting himself near the foot of the hospital bed. Over his shoulder Kismet remained silent and steadfast, listening and watching everyone involved in the conversation. “I had a chance to speak with Elder Dane a few moments ago, regarding his knowledge of the Lupa,” he said. “As you’ve already been told, the Lupa were once one of the most powerful of the Therian Clans, and not just because of their bi-shifting abilities. They were also the most magically sensitive of the Clans.”

“What does magically sensitive mean?” I asked. “They’re Gifted?”

“No, not in the sense that you use the word to describe humans and their Gifts. Consider the ability to sing. Most of us are average, many awful. A select few are extremely talented, and once or twice in a generation there is a truly magnificent voice.”

Okay, I got that he wasn’t saying the Lupa were all opera stars, but the rest of the analogy wasn’t quite working for me.

“Therians are considered magical by most because of our shifting abilities,” Phin continued, probably prompted by my blank stare. “However, unlike Gifted humans, we do not require contact with the Break in order to shift. We can travel from here without ill effects. From my experience, all Therians are like this. I would assume Lupa, as well.”

“Then what makes them ‘a magnificent voice’?” I asked.

“They possess, within a Pack, a sort of telepathy among their members. It is especially strong among siblings, and strongest if they are the offspring of the Alpha female.”

“They talk to one another with their minds?” It was my clearest understanding of telepathy, even though I’d met a handful of Gifted telepaths with quite varied talents. Brett Lewis used his psychometry skills for us on a freelance basis (it was hard to believe that it was just last night when he’d identified Thackery as Aurora and Ava’s kidnapper). Claudia Burke had been a Hunter, and she’d used her telepathy to sense the truth in people’s words—until she was killed in the field last week by a trio of Halfies.

“Not quite. Elder Dane described it as more of a proximity sensor. Siblings can sense the distress of other siblings, and the Alpha female can often sense all members of her Pack.”

“So you think they’ll sense Wyatt?” Kismet asked.

Phin nodded. “Or he’ll be able to sense them. He shares their genetic traits now, so it’s possible he’ll be regarded as a fellow Pack member. If they can sense his current distress, they may already be seeking him out.”

“Even though Thackery ordered them to guard Ava and Aurora?”

“They are Lupa first, trained dogs second.”

Wyatt grunted.

I absolutely hated the idea of taking Wyatt out of the Watchtower and making him a target, especially with his emotions on such an uneven keel. But I saw Phin’s point. It might be our only chance to find the Lupa before seven o’clock. I wasn’t going to speak for Wyatt, though; this was his decision.

“The Assembly won’t like it,” Kismet said.

“You’re right,” Phin said. “In my limited experience as a member of the Assembly, I’m fairly positive they would rather execute Wyatt, see the last of the Lupa dead, and sweep this entire incident under the metaphorical rug.”

That comment earned a deep-chested growl from Wyatt.

Unperturbed, Phin continued. “Many Elders still see the Lupa as a blight on our collective history and their removal as a cleansing of evil. It’s what they learned from the Elders before them, and I can only guess at my own Clan Elder’s thoughts on them. But none of them likes talking about it, and it’s why the information isn’t known among the general Therian population.”

“I have a question,” I said. “If the Elders don’t like talking about it and would rather forget, why bother passing down the information? They thought the Lupa were killed off centuries ago.”

“To learn from the past, I suppose. You still teach your children the evils of wars fought long ago, in countries thousands of miles away. The Lupa are part of our collective history. A dark chapter, probably the darkest, but it isn’t something we should forget.”

“Just something to hide from the general population?”

Phin’s mouth twitched.

“Sounds like it works well as a boogeyman story, too,” Kismet said. “This is what happens when a Clan gets out of line, so make sure you and your people play by the rules.”

Phin angled his body to face her, his expression blank.

“That sounds oddly familiar and not a little ironic, coming from an ex-Handler.”

She frowned.

“Okay,” I said, “so what exactly is your plan? Put Wyatt in a car, drive him around the city, and hope his werewolf radar goes off?”

“In a nutshell, yes,” Phin replied.

“Really?”

“Unless you have a more specific starting location in mind.”

It sounded like a great way to waste our entire afternoon. Unfortunately, unless they managed to get something out of Thackery besides more fingers, it was also the only plan we had.

I looked at Wyatt, whose lips were pressed tight, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He glanced at me with those eerie, silver-rimmed eyes. “This is our only real option, isn’t it?” he asked.

“It’s the only good one,” I replied, “since none of us is about to sit around and do nothing.”

“You’ll bring weapons?”

“Of course.”

“No, Evy, for me. If I lose control out there—”

My heart beat just a little faster. “You won’t.”

“But if I do, you need to be prepared to kill me before I infect someone. And I mean kill me. You know I won’t be able to live with myself if I do.”

“I know.” I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. He was right. Taking him into the city while the infection was still fresh, before we’d had any real practice at keeping his wolf under control, was beyond risky. It bordered on suicidal. And yet, as with every other major decision in our lives lately, what fucking choice did we really have?

“Promise me, Evy.”

“I promise.”

He held my gaze a moment, resolute and angry, then glanced past me. “You, too.”

“I promise,” Kismet said.

He didn’t bother asking for Phin’s word.

“Elder Dane won’t like us taking Wyatt out of here,” I said.

“The Watchtower isn’t exclusively run by the Therians,” Kismet said. “I’ll tell Adrian the plan. He won’t say no.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he might be a foot taller than me, but he knows I can kick his ass.”

Impressed with the implied threat, I smiled. “Works for me. Wyatt’s going to need clothes.” We’d have to get food for him before we left, too. I could use a snack myself, after all that teleporting.