Wolfsbane, page 16
She made it down to where the track into the woods diverged from the main driveway before the relieved feeling of purpose wore off and she realized how well she’d just been managed. She should recognize the maneuver; she’d done it often enough herself. Lilianne had asked her to perform a task that suited her skills, and also happened to keep her out of the way of further business with the delegation for a while.
Selene kept walking. Realizing she would have done the same thing herself also forced her to admit that it was the best thing for the situation. If she interacted with Andrew or his wife, or even Felicia, it would be offering herself for even more of the dream’s cruel tricks while she wondered if she was putting herself through it for nothing. If this was not a dream, there was no lesson to learn, no awakening that could be earned by accepting the punishment.
No, she’d find Ginnie and see if she could do the girl any good. After all, she was the only living Were in this dream who had any idea what the girl had seen. Perhaps healing could begin with that.
She kept her steps heavy through the trees, crunching off the path into the undergrowth occasionally, as if to chart the path of a squirrel. The air was pleasantly cool, but any dew was long gone.
If Ginnie thought someone was trying to sneak up on her, she’d never be found. Selene paused every so often to listen, to see if the girl would be similarly noisy to invite Selene to her location. A raven quorked at her cheekily, but she heard nothing else of interest.
The forest’s scents reminded her of home, home when Ares really was still alive. She supposed this place shared many of the same plants with the forests she and Dare hunted together, but she saw this with different eyes. Even among the trees, aspects of the modern world stood out, things she would never have seen as Silver. There, old boards set into a slope to form rough stairs, there, half a car, slipping away to rust over half a century or more since it was abandoned.
Ahead, a female voice called out in Spanish. Felicia, Selene recognized after a moment of consideration. Not only did the language confuse matters, but her tone was different in a way Selene could not quite put her finger on. More constrained, perhaps.
The tone was at least amused, however, and Selene picked out the name Arturo in the liquid flow of sounds. Selene took the next branch of the path in that direction, then left it altogether, picking her way through sword ferns and blackberry.
“What are you doing?” A boy’s voice, in careful English this time. Before Selene could speculate for very long about who he’d have found out here to use English with, she pushed through a last tangle of undergrowth and saw them. Ginnie had found some twine somewhere, and seemed to be putting together some kind of snare. Arturo watched, his black hair standing up like he’d been crawling through the blackberries instead of detouring around them.
Ginnie lifted the snare, and illustrated how it would pull taut by slipping it over Arturo’s wrist. The boy laughed, and Ginnie even cracked a smile. Selene froze where she was, lest she break the moment. She looked quickly around for Felicia and found her a few yards away, watching. Silver strode over to the young woman to prevent her from interrupting the children either.
Felicia crossed her arms, looking very much a big sister in the exasperation of her expression. She probably hoped she looked maternally protective, but Selene could spot the residual, “I can behave, why can’t he behave?” from a mile away. “Ginnie could use someone to play with,” Selene said, low-voiced, as Arturo tugged on the snare to steal it from the older girl.
Felicia shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “As long as they do not cause trouble.”
Selene turned her gaze back to the kids to make the conversation appear more casual. “So you’re stuck with babysitting for this trip, huh? What do you think of the reason your parents are here?”
Selene caught Felicia’s frown out of the corner of her eye. “What do I think?”
“Do you want to move to the States?” Selene kept her tone light. If Felicia didn’t bite on that one, she didn’t see how to get at what she wanted to know without being stupidly blatant. How far did Andrew and Isabel plan to go? How desperately did they want the territory? The idea of a Felicia who wouldn’t lose her grip on her discretion and offer her opinion on anything at all with a little careful prodding seemed so strange.
As different as her father was, Selene supposed. Selene simply hadn’t had the time to plumb the depths of it yet. She and Felicia had been getting closer only lately in the real world, feeling out the relationship between stepmother and stepdaughter. She rubbed where her engagement ring wasn’t, stopped when she caught herself doing it.
Felicia looked up and around her. “It’s pretty. And less crowded, yes?”
Selene snorted. Anywhere would be less crowded than Europe, with too many packs always fighting over too little territory.
Arturo succeeded in wresting the snare away, and he triumphantly dashed into the bushes—straight through the blackberries. Ginnie sighed, grinned, and ran after him, though she had the advantage of the trail he’d blazed—or crashed—through the prickles first. Felicia frowned and hurried after them, but Selene touched her shoulder and pointed to a mostly parallel deer track. No particular point getting scratched when they could chart the kids’ progress perfectly well by all the noise they made.
“Mother said the girl knew the Tainted One,” Felicia said at length as they walked along. “I thought there weren’t any survivors.”
“She survived his care, not his silver.” Selene pressed her lips together, using the pressure to keep her mind from once more painting a picture of what it had been like. She could imagine it all too well, but she didn’t need to. “It is undoubtedly the crueler fate.”
Felicia shook her head, not understanding. Selene sorted hurriedly through different amounts of honesty. When implication failed, how much would Isabel blame her for opening her daughter’s eyes to the darker parts of the world around them?
“He took her with him, cared for her while he did terrible things to other Were. Years, she was raised by him, if you can call it raising.” Better Felicia understand a few things about the world, now she was all but an adult. In the real world, her Felicia hadn’t had any choice in having her understanding expanded.
This Felicia stuttered to a stop. “He—?”
But whatever she might have said was lost to a shriek of rage. Selene and Felicia both pounded into a run, crashing straight through the brush to where Arturo had his hand around Ginnie’s wrist. She had been the one who shrieked, and terror mixed with the rage in her expression. She clearly could not handle being even so lightly restrained, but Arturo was so shocked, he seemed to have forgotten he held her. The snare lay snarled on the ground between them, forgotten.
“Let her go!” Selene shouted, at the same moment Felicia shouted something in Spanish. Their words overlapped and Arturo only looked more confused.
Ginnie used his grip to throw him to the ground. Finally he let go, but she sat on his chest instead of letting him up. She snatched up a stick from the ground beside her and snapped it. Selene darted forward as Ginnie discarded one half and held the other, sharp point down, like an arrow. She grabbed his wrist and pinned it, inner arm upward, and aimed the point at the inside of his elbow.
Selene caught her wrist before it descended. Felicia hardly seemed to realize what was happening yet. Selene made sure the grip was firm and tight. If Ginnie didn’t like being held, that would certainly get her attention.
“Do not be Stefan,” she said.
Ginnie’s fingers instantly went limp, and the stick fell. She stared at Selene, wide-eyed, then the sobs began, and she shook her head wildly. Selene tugged her standing, and Arturo made good his escape, crying himself, to cling to his sister’s side.
“They come when you’re angry, don’t they? Those things he did, as pictures in your head. And the anger comes when you’re scared, because you were scared for too long, and if you’re scared for too long, you either get angry or you give up and throw your voice to Death. And you just want to get rid of the anger.” Selene didn’t quite know where the words were coming from, but she knew deep in the fundamental tone of her voice that they were true. Just because they were true didn’t mean they were the right ones for Ginnie at this moment, but some instinct told her that no one else had been willing to give Ginnie any truth lately.
Ginnie’s sobs turned to silence, intensity of emotion suppressed down to a steady stream of tears that could be hidden at need. Selene suspected there had been need. Her eyes stayed tight on Selene’s face. “Those pictures aren’t real. Not for you. Not unless you make them real. And you don’t need to make them real. They’re a part of you, but you are not only your parts. You decide who you are.” Selene felt like she was running down a hill now. She had to keep going until the end, or she would fall and things would be worse than before.
“You are not what he made you. You are what you make yourself. Remember that. Always remember that.”
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?” Felicia offered hesitantly.
Selene had forgotten the young woman was there, and she clenched her teeth at her words. Good, that Felicia was trying to talk Ginnie down, not attack her for her behavior, but that was not the kind of talking down Ginnie needed. “I think most who say that should be almost killed to test the theory,” she said, keeping her tone teasing, but pointed. Careful, Felicia. This needed finesse, not platitudes.
“You do not choose what has been made a part of you.” Selene swiped some of the built-up salt from Ginnie’s cheek with her thumb. “And it is not stronger, or better, but it is not worse either. It’s what we all must build ourselves from.”
Ginnie’s tears slowed, gradually, and Selene released her wrist. Ginnie didn’t run, but she did back up a step. Her lips moved in a word, and it took Selene several repetitions to catch it. “Stefan.” She said it out loud, to make sure she was right, and Ginnie nodded emphatically.
Selene shook her head in response. They’d been talking about Stefan for this whole conversation, but she didn’t see what Ginnie’s final point was.
“Who’s that?” Felicia asked, eyes narrowing with sudden suspicion at Selene. She petted her brother’s hair.
Only then did she get it. No survivors, no one save one mute girl knew the name of the one they’d finally killed, killed before he could say anything. Selene had no reason to know his name, but Ginnie had just confirmed it.
Selene pressed her thumb to her forehead. “His voice is in the void now. The others do not say his name, but I do not think anything can call him back from the depth the Lady has cast him to.”
Felicia also touched her forehead automatically, but didn’t look convinced that only religious superstition had kept others from mentioning his name before.
Selene tried again. “You think we didn’t check his pockets, to see where he’d come from? But after so long not knowing his real name, why change now, for a dead man?” All a lie, but then again this whole world was probably a lie or a dream, so who was to say that it wasn’t true, she just couldn’t remember? Maybe this world was real and they’d checked his pockets, and that’s where her broken mind had gotten the name. Selene hardly knew anymore, and her hands shook from walking so close to the edge with her words to Ginnie. She wanted to stop and breathe, and finally think straight for a while.
Ginnie shook her head once, a small movement. Felicia didn’t seem to notice, but Selene did, as had probably been the girl’s intention. She didn’t buy Selene’s story. But somewhere in her face dawned a kind of hope, or fellow-feeling. Perhaps the idea of someone sharing painful secrets reassured her.
But not enough to stay. Ginnie turned away into the woods, but she walked this time, instead of running. “I’ll bring some food out later,” Selene called after her. Ginnie didn’t turn around to acknowledge the promise.
“What’s wrong with her?” Arturo whined into the silence. “She hurt me and didn’t get in trouble.” Felicia gathered him close to her, frowning and protective.
“Because she’s been hurt herself. She has to learn not to hurt others because of that. It’s a long trail.” Selene blew out a breath. Felicia glowered at her, not seeming to understand, and ushered her brother roughly out of the trees.
Selene followed them back toward the guesthouse at a distance large enough Felicia hopefully shouldn’t object. No need to stay out here when Ginnie wanted to be alone. She could at least go tell Lilianne that she’d laid the groundwork for later healing for the girl.
Ares met her before she could turn aside to the farmhouse. The wind was in the wrong direction for her to smell his mood, but his face transformed with relief. “Come with me?” Ares offered, diffident.
Selene eyed him. Why did he want her help now? Had sending her after Ginnie been all Lilianne’s idea? It seemed unlikely that she wouldn’t at least have asked her husband. “After my previous record with backing you up?”
A muscle flexed in Ares’s jaw, then he seemed to give up whatever careful phrasing he’d created in his head. “Lady damn it, we need you back here.” He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “I don’t know how you did it, but at least you hit him where it hurts. He talks and talks, so smooth, and doesn’t show any reaction to anything I try.”
Selene licked her lips. Did she want to get drawn into this again? Get drawn into dealing with Andrew? Every time she stepped away, the dream seemed to herd her back. “Andrew Dare’s strength has always been in his words—and his understanding of people. Understand someone deeply enough, and you know which words will flush them in one direction or another.” And that was a good thing, when it was on her side.
Ares flicked her a sideways glance, but started striding for the guesthouse again. “Sounds like you understand him right back.”
“I don’t know. Maybe just enough to dig myself a deeper hole.” Selene followed her brother before she’d even admitted her decision to herself. Dream or not, these were her people her brother was fighting for. She couldn’t turn her back on that fight.
***
Edmond offered Andrew a brief rest from the frustrated circling of his thoughts the next morning. As Andrew paced from the main hall back to his cabin, a last slice of toast in his hand, the little boy pounded by, stuffed puppy clutched in his arms. He had the worried look of a child running from punishment and knowing he wouldn’t escape it for long.
Sure enough, a few seconds later, John jogged up. Edmond stumbled and lost his puppy. It flopped bonelessly on the gravel. He started to cry. “Papa, please.” He pointed down the road. “I want to go hunt lizards again.” Some trick of his tear-congested voice made his “papa” sound very like Felicia’s for a moment. Andrew winced. Letting things remind him of his daughter was a trail that led deep into the swamp, going nowhere fast.
“No, you have to stay safe.” John gathered his son into his arms. Edmond immediately began to scream, because his puppy was still down below.
Andrew ambled up to the pair, stooped to pick up the toy, and carefully brushed it off. “Why can’t he hunt lizards?” He handed the puppy over. Edmond grabbed it, then started struggling to get down again.
“It’s not safe.” John clutched his son closer, which brought on a renewed spate of tears.
Andrew set his teeth. Far be it for him to tell another man how to raise his son, but— “Let him use his own two feet, at least. Lady, man. He has to learn to protect himself eventually.”
A muscle jumped in John’s jaw, and he turned away, still pointedly holding his son. Andrew noticed that about a dozen paces down the road, he put Edmond down to walk on his own, though.
Andrew started walking again in the opposite direction, though not fast, because he had no particular destination in mind. His toast was cold, but he ate it absently. Maybe John wouldn’t have been much use to him in defeating Rory, even if he’d agreed. Susan’s death had clearly affected him deeply.
Sacramento—Allison, he supposed he should think of her as—sat on the front step of the Sacramento cabin, about halfway down the row. She had her eyes closed, and her face tilted up to the direct sunlight. It seemed an uncomfortable position to nap in, even if the sunlight felt nice.
Finally her open neckline and the way she was sitting, palms on the wood back behind her hips to expose her cleavage to the sun as well, gave Andrew the clue he needed: she was tanning. It must be for the vapid act she used to influence Nate, the current Sacramento.
Then it hit Andrew: what he needed to do was set Nate and Rory against each other. He’d bet Allison would be quite happy to help him with that.
He crunched extra hard over the gravel to stand in front of her, eating his toast as he waited for her to acknowledge him. It took several more seconds for her tan to settle into a warm glow, and only then did she open her eyes.
She sat up straighter the moment she recognized him, however. She must not have known his scent well enough to identify him from that. “Does Roanoke want to talk to Sacramento about something? He’s not here right now.” She gave a little grimace like she couldn’t possibly understand that kind of important business.
Andrew dusted toast crumbs off his fingers, and flopped onto the step beside her. She eyed him with surprise, and scooted pointedly away from him. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something, Allison.”
“Oh, call me Allie.” She laughed, shaking her head at the full version.
Andrew eyed her. In his false memories she’d put on a vapid act to be the power behind the alpha, something he must have culled from observation in his missing years, but he hadn’t realized it would be this bad. Any minute now she’d giggle. “For the love of the Lady, Allison. Give it a rest for a minute.”
“Give what a rest?” Her eyes narrowed at him, at least.
Andrew pressed his thumb to his forehead, swearing on the Lady. “I won’t tell Nate. I know you have a hand in steering him, and I need your help.”
