Wolfsbane, page 11
Selene looked past him, to Ginnie. She had tipped her chin up, so her hair fell back from her face a little. She stared at Selene with wide, startled eyes. Ares followed Selene’s gaze just in time to see Ginnie nod, once.
Selene jerked away from her brother and picked up another roll. She didn’t offer Ginnie platitudes, just the bread in an outstretched hand. Ginnie’s eyes darted from the bread to her face, and then she stepped forward.
When she took the bread, her fingers touched Selene’s. Then she ran, back into the trees once more. Selene gritted her teeth against any more rebellion from her stomach. This dream Ginnie wasn’t real, but oh, Selene bled inside to see her.
***
Andrew made it back to human a final time, and energy rushed back into him. He was wary of it, given how he’d been feeling just a moment before, but he made it to his knees and collected his clothes. He pressed them against his chest as he got carefully to his feet. Time to eat something. Past time.
Benjamin strode up as Andrew approached his cabin and opened the door for him in dangerous silence. Andrew tried not to think about how he didn’t remember seeing Benjamin this angry before in his life. It wasn’t the strength of the anger that worried him; it was the fact that it was banked so deep in his mentor’s expression, suggesting it had had a long time to grow.
“Let me eat first, please.” Andrew dropped his clothes on the rickety kitchen table and jerked the fridge open. Not much food there, unfortunately, since meals at the Convocations were catered for everyone at the main hall. He found a package of hot dogs, though, and devoured all of them cold.
Benjamin watched him, arms folded, for a while, then lifted Andrew’s shirt from the table and checked it for stretched or popped seams. It must have passed muster, because when Andrew dumped the empty package in the trash, Benjamin held the shirt out to him.
Andrew considered dawdling over pulling on his clothes, but he did it quickly in the end. No point putting off the chewing out he was in for. He did hesitate once, on pulling up his jeans. The skin across the small of his back was still smooth. “Look, Boston. I suspect you’re going to say that I know better than to handle Rory that way, but I don’t. I’m missing memories of the past five years, and all I’m left with is—” Andrew gestured helplessly. “Dreams. Nothing makes sense anymore.”
Andrew dropped into a chair and pulled on his shoes as Benjamin’s silence changed into something dubious. He didn’t blame the man. He was pretty dubious of the whole situation himself. “Dreams,” Benjamin echoed finally.
Andrew shrugged and frowned at the floor. “How fucked up is your life when a concussion makes you imagine yourself alpha of the world?” He forced a laugh. And how fucked up was he when he missed someone in that dream so much it hurt? “That’s all I’ve got.”
“You truly don’t remember the last five years?” Benjamin bent over him and ran gentle but firm fingers over the back of his head. Nothing hurt, and Benjamin grimaced like he hadn’t felt anything either. “To state the obvious, that’s not good.”
“Maybe things will come back, with time. But right now, frankly, I don’t see how I didn’t consider this situation untenable. Someone needs to get Rory out of power immediately, if this is the low he’s sunk to.” Andrew spoke without thinking, but as he said it, his thoughts finally dropped into alignment. Maybe that was what his unconscious had been trying to tell him with the dreams: he needed to do something about Rory. The glimpse of a goal, a direction, cracked some of the congealed pain from around Andrew’s voice.
He pushed to his feet and started pacing. The cabin didn’t offer much scope for it, but at least it had a path across the kitchen and living area to the fireplace and back. He ignored Benjamin, too caught up in following his own train of logic. “That someone challenging him can’t be me, though. I never could match Rory in pure strength. I could gather support, like I did last time—like I dreamed—but all the support in the world won’t help in a fight when he knows my moves as well as he clearly does.”
Andrew frowned in the direction of the other cabins, though the window ahead of him showed only a scrap of gravel road and some bushes. Alphas might have changed since five years ago, but not that much. What about Rory’s beta? In Andrew’s last real memories, that had been Laurence. “I wonder if—no, I doubt Laurence could best him on pure strength either, even if he did have the personality for it.”
Benjamin rested a hand on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, expression growing more unreadable by the second. Andrew drew a deep breath and found surprise in his scent. “Laurence left for the Alaska pack three years ago.”
Andrew barked a laugh. “No wonder Rory’s beating me up, then. Got no one else to take it out on. Can’t say I blame Laurence, if Rory was acting like that.” Andrew started running through his sub-alphas in his mind. Maybe he wasn’t actually Roanoke, but the habit of organizing his thoughts that way wouldn’t die so easily. Several would jump at the opportunity to gain that kind of power, but they were precisely the ones he didn’t want within howling distance of it.
He snapped his fingers. “John. He’s close enough to Rory physically it might work, and since he’s not Seattle anymore, he might welcome the opportunity to regain authority. He’s a better beta than alpha long-term, but getting Rory out is what matters at the moment. We can deal with long-term when it arrives.”
When the silence stretched without a reply, Andrew strode back to check on Benjamin again. Was his mentor choosing the best way to tell him he was out of his mind, it would never work? “Unless John’s changed substantially since what I remember?”
“Lady.” Benjamin chuckled, the sound rough with emotion. “Who are you, and what have you done with Dare?”
“I don’t know who I am anymore.” Andrew ran his fingers through his hair—all dark? He still needed to check that in the mirror—and growled. “And maybe it sounds crazy, but I’m not going to just sit back and take Rory’s bullshit.” If nothing else made sense, at least this was something to do, some forward momentum.
Benjamin embraced him, and Andrew staggered a little, caught completely off-guard by the gesture. “I’ll tell you who you are,” Benjamin said, intensely. “You seem to be climbing back to being a man I once knew, before that man let himself be changed by grief into someone else entirely.” Benjamin pulled back and caught Andrew’s eyes, pulling them both into a measuring of dominance.
Again, the Roanoke in him bubbled up before Andrew could stop it. Benjamin was a powerful old man, and due great respect for it, but Andrew was the one who held the authority. Maybe it had only been in a dream, but Andrew and his mate had united all of North American and held it. That mate, that world, didn’t exist, but the confidence and dominance it had created in him lingered.
Benjamin dropped his eyes first, and his scent filled with satisfaction as he stepped back to consider Andrew more broadly. “John isn’t the man he was five years ago, but until this morning, you weren’t either. If anyone can call that man out of him, maybe it would be you.”
Andrew nodded, and purpose settled into him, lending him energy. The plan would have to change as he found out more of the situation, but that was the nature of plans. He strode to the cabin door and opened it before the relief at finally having a direction gave way to logic. He should find out about how people expected him to act before he ran into more trouble like he had with Ares.
He turned around in the doorway, resting the side of his fist against the frame. “What have I been like, the past five years?”
Benjamin’s lips curved in a thin, sad smile. “You’ve been Roanoke’s enforcer. And essentially his beta, once Laurence left. You’ve been lonely and angry, lately just angry, like you hate your situation so much you’d like to destroy it. You’ve been working quite hard at destroying it, in various ways.” His eyes searched Andrew’s face. “What did you dream?”
Andrew summoned Silver to his mind’s eye—her white hair; her tantalizing body; her gaze, simultaneously sharp and vague as she looked past the world to what was really important. “I dreamed someone who made me want to change my situation.”
And now she was gone. Worse. Never had been.
Andrew shoved the thoughts of Silver away, nodded a farewell to Benjamin, and pushed off the doorframe and out of the cabin. Forward, he was moving forward, not getting caught in his dreams.
Clearly, given his reputation, if Andrew wanted to talk to John, he’d have to go through the current Seattle. But when he knocked at the Seattle cabin, it was Selene who answered.
Andrew lost all of his hard-won momentum for a moment, staring at this not-Silver, but the closeness just reminded him how different she was. She even smelled different. Somewhere within, a spark of anger at the universe flared, for taunting him with a reminder of what he’d dreamed. He fed it and cupped it close, letting the resentment strengthen him. He didn’t want Selene because she was a taunt, a trick. He’d conduct his business with her and nothing more.
She must have seen his glance behind her into the living room, because she snorted. “Seattle’s not in. What do you want?”
“To talk to John.” Andrew stepped back from the cabin, an invitation to what was essentially neutral territory. The formality helped him keep his mind on track. A little. Selene looked him over with narrowed eyes for a few seconds, then joined him, closing the door with a precise click behind her.
She crossed her arms. “Why?”
Andrew held his hands wide while his mind scrambled, trying to read Selene. He knew exactly how he’d try to convince Silver of something, but Selene wasn’t Silver. Would the same strategies work? He supposed as long as he didn’t have a better idea, he might as well appeal to her protectiveness of her pack members, and see what happened. “I could use his help with something. Unless he’s totally happy as he is in your pack now, showing his belly where once he was alpha. Forgive my memory problems, but what rank is he now, anyway?”
Selene’s lips thinned. “My cousin chose to stay in the pack. There is no resentment.” After a beat where it seemed like that might be all Andrew would get, she let her arms drop. “He’s not happy. We stretched a point to bring him here as a single so that he wouldn’t be left alone.” She shrugged—with both shoulders, which looked wrong to Andrew after knowing Silver for so long. “Something to do would be good for him, but how do I know that you’re not looking to bully him into it?”
“You’re welcome to chaperone.” Andrew tried to match the nonchalance of her shrug, though he was nowhere near that sanguine. She was welcome to listen in if she didn’t go running to Rory to tattle about his plans. There was no love lost between the Western packs and Roanoke as Andrew remembered it, but each person who knew still added risk. He moved closer to Selene, lowering his voice. “If you’ll give me your word to keep what I say in confidence.”
She laughed, scent gaining a note of surprise. Andrew suspected he’d be smelling that a lot for a while. “You’re getting twisty, Enforcer. What’s happened?”
“I—” Andrew didn’t get a chance to explain, because he heard Rory’s voice as he left the Roanoke cabin. He stepped quickly back from Selene, but of course that only made him look guiltier.
Rory’s mood didn’t seem to have particularly improved, either. He jogged over to them, snarl already curling his lips. “Plotting, Dare?”
“Just talking to Selene,” Andrew said. A crazy idea occurred to him, crazy and sure to tear his voice into shreds with pain, but he didn’t have time to find anything better, dammit. “At least consider it, all right?” he said to Selene. Then he cupped her face and kissed her.
Not Silver. She wasn’t Silver, but Andrew kissed her like she was anyway. If she were here now, he’d kiss her like this to convince her to stay, with every tone of love and longing his voice could hold. And maybe he’d wanted to do this since he’d first seen Selene and now he knew for certain that he’d been right to stop himself.
Selene remained mostly unresponsive from shock, but she didn’t remember to push him away for several beats. When she did, her growl held laughter.
That made it all worse. Andrew could see the trail stretching out in front of him. She was attracted. He could flirt with her, nurture that attraction, court her until he’d tied himself to her and the thoughts of Silver she evoked so tightly they formed a weight and he set himself to drown, held under by it.
No. Andrew couldn’t bear those thoughts. It was just too damn painful. Every moment would stab him with a reminder of what he’d thought he had. No Selene, no other woman. He’d concentrate on deposing Rory. After that, he could reach out to his daughter again. At least she was real.
Rory’s laugh now was louder and more mocking than Selene’s had been. “If you’re sniffing down that trail, watch out for the brother, Dare,” he said, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Hurry up, or you’ll miss the morning session.” He headed off for the main hall where the Convocation sessions were held.
Selene crossed her arms again, whatever laughter Andrew had imagined fading, and waited until Rory was out of earshot. “Never mind Ares; I will beat you.”
Andrew smiled thinly at the ground. “I know. But not as hard as him.” He tipped his head to his alpha. He’d meant the comment to sound like a joke, but it just came out sounding tired. He had a hard trail ahead of him. But it was true—he’d rather Selene’s rage than Rory’s any day.
Selene stared at him for several long moments. “You’re serious.”
“As a rifle shot.” Andrew lifted his head. “Someone needs to do something about Rory. I think John can help me do it.” He gestured widely after Rory. “And if you want to tell him I’m plotting, go and get it over with now.”
Selene shook her head, hesitated, then sighed. “Tonight. I’ll bring John by.” She held up a forestalling hand. “But only if he agrees to it. I’m not going to order him to come. It’ll be his decision.”
“That’s fair.” Andrew bowed to her, which made her smile. The smile almost reminded him of something, but he pushed away the memory rather than letting it reach his conscious mind. Selene seemed happy in the real world. Maybe happier than Silver, in some ways. She was whole in body, untroubled in mind, and definitely better off without Andrew sniffing around her. Yet another reason to leave her alone—not for himself, but for her, and her life without getting dragged into all his fights and mess.
Andrew strode off for the hall. He’d best go and pay sharp attention at the Convocation session to try desperately to catch up on more of the things he didn’t remember.
Chapter 12
The honk from her own car startled Tatiana so badly that her hand spasmed where she’d left it on the keys in the ignition. The keys rattled and dropped free, down somewhere under the seat. Tatiana groped after them, fingertips encountering only the fuzz of carpet and metal of the seat’s tracks. What had set off the horn? She hadn’t been anywhere near it, even if she probably had passed out or nodded off or whatever had caused the fog in her head.
The horn honked again and the lights strobed the concrete wall of the store ahead. It was acting like someone had pressed the wrong button on its fob, but the fob was under the seat with nothing to push it—
Tatiana checked the rearview mirror. Headlights swept purposefully over the parking lot toward her. The North Americans must have a spare fob. And they were using it to find her. She scrabbled under the seat again, but she still couldn’t feel the keys. She had to drive away, drive quickly, or they’d catch her—Lady damn those keys!
Tatiana jerked the door open. The North Americans weren’t here yet; she could still run, cut through the wooded dip probably hiding a stream behind the store. Her legs wavered, tried to tip her down. Maybe she should have stayed in the car—but with the spare key, the North Americans could have unlocked it before she had time to find the keys.
Tatiana made it as far as the curb where the parking lot ended at the trees before the car slammed to a stop beside her stolen one. Only one person got out. Blond, lean, and angular. Sacramento. Tatiana mentally kicked herself back into motion again. It didn’t matter who was chasing her. She couldn’t stop to gawk.
She should have been using that time to look over the terrain, as it turned out. Tatiana got two steps before her foot punched precipitously down through the blackberry leaves instead of stopping on level ground beneath. She slid on her ass down into the brambles, only a few feet, but her legs got well tangled. Thorns, foiled by the denim of her jeans, quested for blood around her ankles and at the small of her back where her shirt had been pushed up.
Tatiana thrashed free, back onto level ground beside the pavement, just in time to stand nose to nose with Sacramento. She kicked to take the other’s woman’s legs out from under her automatically, but her muscles moved with excruciatingly slowness, and Sacramento dodged easily.
“No one’s going to execute you,” Sacramento said, hands spread calmingly. “We just need you to come back to the pack house. You don’t look exactly healthy yourself. You need to rest.”
Tatiana didn’t waste her breath on a reply to that. Oh, please. She feinted a punch at Sacramento’s jaw, then whirled and ran, along the pavement this time. Getting safely down into the dip would take time she didn’t have, even if the vegetation would tangle Sacramento as well.
Not fast enough. She couldn’t run fast enough. Tatiana felt Sacramento’s approach a split second before the woman slammed into her, carrying her to the ground. Heart thudding each beat of her desperation, Tatiana told her body to squirm, to roll to get Sacramento down into the dirt under her . . .
***
Tatiana straightened from sitting on the edge of her mother’s bed and smoothed the quilt where she’d creased it. The tiny space, hardly big enough for the dresser, bed, and chair, smelled musty like the occupant had been absent for a few weeks. But this was more her memory of the place than anything, Tatiana decided. She’d spent as many nights here with her mother as she had in the nursery, growing up. She touched the nose of her stuffed puppy flopped over the top corner of the dresser, then traced the carvings. Circle around that full moon, run down that curled vine, end at the bottom drawer. Pull it out, reach under her mother’s formal dresses, not often used, and touch the smooth slippery slide of the long, coiled braid, cut off when she left the priesthood. She didn’t lift the fabric enough to see it, but she knew it was the same golden shade as her own. Her mother would have laughed at her, threatened again to burn it as other former priestesses did, but Tatiana had always felt it would grant her luck.
