SEVENTEEN
A
SPEAR OF YELLOW light cut through the hallway from a room at
the top of a stairwell I’d discovered when trailing Ansel’s scent,
the door open just a crack. I quietly pushed the door back, peering
inside.
“You’re killing me,
kiddo.” Isaac rubbed his temples as he faced my brother. “What else
can I say?”
I knocked on the
door frame. Isaac turned and Ansel glanced up, only to duck his
head low again the moment he saw me.
“You the relief
team?” Isaac asked, coming to the door.
I nodded, watching
Ansel sit on the edge of the bed and stare at his
shoes.
“Glad you’re here.”
When Isaac approached me, he lowered his voice. “Tess is way better
at this stuff than me. She always handles our
houseguests.”
“I didn’t know there
were bedrooms in the outpost,” I said, looking around the small,
spartan room.
“When strike teams
come in, they sometimes need multiple days to stage a mission,”
Isaac said. “These are the quarters they use when they aren’t
staying at the Academy. Plus the Reapers live here.”
“Right,” I said,
before asking, “How is he?”
“He’s says he’s not
in pain,” Isaac said. “But the kid is clearly distraught. I
couldn’t get him to eat. I warmed up a stew for him. It’s on the
nightstand. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
“Thanks for staying
with him,” I said.
“No problem,” Isaac
said. “If you’re okay here, I should get back
downstairs.”
“That’s fine,” I
said, already walking past him.
I sat next to Ansel
on the bed. He didn’t say anything. He was staring at his hands,
which were cupped around something I couldn’t see.
“So you won’t eat?”
I said, gesturing to the untouched bowl of stew.
“I’ll eat when I’m
hungry,” he mumbled.
“I’ve been eating
their food,” I said, trying to lighten my tone. “I swear it’s not
poisoned.”
He didn’t laugh, but
his hands opened as he shoved whatever he’d been holding into his
pocket. It looked like a crumpled slip of paper.
“What’s that?” I
frowned.
“Nothing.” He
crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you want?”
“You’ve been through
a lot,” I said, giving up light conversation. “You need to make
sure you’re taking care of yourself.”
When I reached out
to touch his shoulder, he jerked away.
“Don’t touch
me.”
“Why not?” I asked
carefully. “I’m so happy to see you, An. I’ve missed
you.”
He laughed, but it
was that awful tinny sound again. “Have you? I wouldn’t have
guessed.”
I didn’t know what
could relieve the painful gnawing in my gut spurred by the hollow
sound of his words. “I had to leave.”
He didn’t
respond.
“I had to. They were
going to kill him.”
“They killed Mom,”
he whispered.
“I know,” I said,
choking on the words. “But the ceremony, An. They were going to
make me kill Shay.”
“How many times are
you going to tell me that?” Ansel asked softly. “It doesn’t make
what happened to us right. You don’t know what they did. You
weren’t there.”
He was dragging his
fingernails over his wrists. I leaned closer and saw the raw red
tracks he’d made. I grabbed his hand, jerking it away.
“Stop
that!”
He laughed again.
“Why should I?”
“I might not have
been there, but I can see how much they hurt you.”
He shuddered,
clutching at his stomach as though he were about to be ill. “It’s
like I can still feel them tearing it out of me. I can’t stop
remembering how they took it.”
His voice dropped to
a whisper. “I can’t live like this.”
“Ansel, your life
isn’t over. You’re still you—and I love you.” I gripped his hand in
mine. “Please don’t hurt yourself.”
I couldn’t say that
it didn’t matter that he’d been unmade. It would have been a lie. I
knew what losing the wolf meant.
“We’ll find a way to
make it better.”
“The only people who
could make me whole again are the Searchers,” he said. “And they’ve
already said they won’t. And the Keepers . . .”
“What they did to
you is horrible, but you can’t give up. Please. You have to be
strong for me. For Bryn.”
He scowled. “Even if
Bryn isn’t dead, she’d be better off without me.”
“That’s not
true.”
“She deserves
someone who can be with her. If she were with me, she couldn’t be
her true self. She needs a Guardian.”
“No, she doesn’t,” I
said.
“How do you know
that?”
“It hasn’t always
been that way,” I said quietly.
“What are you
talking about, Calla?” He looked at me, angry in a way I’d never
seen before. He feels like he’s lost
everything that matters.
“Because I found out
that Searchers and Guardians have fallen in love before.” I
squeezed his hand gently. “You don’t have to be a wolf to be worthy
of love.”
He stared at me,
disbelieving.
“It’s true. A long
time ago,” I said. “We were allies . . . and sometimes
more.”
“A long time ago.” I
watched his eyes go flat, saw him giving up again.
“But I also know
because I loved Shay.” My voice began to shake. “Even before I
turned him.”
Ansel gazed at me.
For a moment the dull cast of his face changed and I was looking at
my brother again. “I knew it.” He almost smiled.
“I know you
did.”
“I guess that’s
worth something.” He sighed. “I did tell you I’d run away for Bryn.
Maybe this is all my fault.” The corner of his mouth began to curve
up. Then he frowned at me. “Did you ever love Ren? I thought you
might. I mean, you guys obviously had a connection of some sort.
Was it only because you’re both alphas?”
I shivered as raw,
frightening emotions scampered down my spine. “I—”
Images danced in my
mind, memories of Ren’s laugh, his face, his touch. I’d only
admitted my love for Shay when I thought I would lose him. Now Ren
was the one in danger. Was my need to save him about love
too?
And then it was as
if he were there, whispering to me. This is
only about love. I could almost feel his breath on my
skin.
When I didn’t
answer, Ansel shook his head. “Never mind.”
He crawled across
the bed, lying down. “So do you trust them?” he asked.
“The
Searchers?”
“Yeah.”
“I think so,” I
said. Not as much as I’d
like.
“What will you do
next?” he asked. “If you reunite with the pack tomorrow, what
then?”
“Then we help Shay,”
I said, still slightly lost in thoughts about Ren.
“Help him do
what?”
“Save the
world.”
“Is that all?” Ansel
laughed, and this time it sounded real.
“Yeah.” I smiled.
“That’s all.”
We both fell quiet
for several minutes.
In the silence of
the room my heartbeat was deafening. “Ansel, I think we should
try.”
“Try
what?”
“Turning you,” I
said. “The Keepers always lie. They could be lying about this
too.”
I watched the
muscles of his throat work as he swallowed. “Do you really think
so?”
I didn’t know what I
thought, but I hoped with every ounce of my being that they had
lied about this.
“They always lie,” I
whispered.
He turned his head
to look at me. “Okay.” His body was trembling.
When I shifted into
my wolf form, he winced. I couldn’t imagine how hard it was to
watch my transformation, so effortless, so natural, when that power
had been robbed from him.
Ansel scooted up on
the bed, watching me. I slowly lowered my muzzle to his forearm,
ears flicking. I glanced up at him and he nodded. I bit him, fast
and deep. He drew a quick breath. I caught the acrid scent of his
fear.
I shifted back,
reaching out to lift his chin so his eyes met mine.
“Bellator silvae servi. Warrior of the forest, I,
the alpha, call on thee to serve in this time of
need.”
All I could hear was
the sound of our breathing, shallow and fearful, as I waited. I
closed my eyes, hoping for the surge of power to move from me to
Ansel, linking alpha and packmate. Squeezing my eyes tight, I spoke
again; this time my voice shook.
“Bellator silvae servi. Warrior of the forest, I,
the alpha, call on thee to serve in this time of
need.”
Nothing. No magic
twined in the space between us.
When I opened my
eyes, Ansel was shaking his head. His own eyes were closed. A tear
slid down his cheek.
“Bellator silv—”
“Stop,” Ansel
croaked, his reddened eyes meeting mine. “Don’t.”
I didn’t know what
to say. They’d really done it. Ansel’s wolf was gone, and I
couldn’t bring it back. In that moment I hated the Keepers more
than I ever had.
“Let me give you
blood.” I choked on the words and realized that I was crying too.
“You’re still bleeding.”
“No.” Ansel pulled
off his shirt, tying it around the puncture wound in his arm. “I
don’t want it.”
“Ansel—” I reached
for him.
“I don’t want it!!”
The fury in his gaze paralyzed me.
He slid down on the
bed. His face had emptied of emotion, but his blank expression was
more frightening than his anger.
“You should go,” he
said, staring up at the ceiling. “You’ll need to sleep before
tomorrow.”
“I won’t leave
you.”
He reached into his
pocket, pulling out the crumpled paper.
“Ansel, what is
that?” I asked, trying to get a better look.
“Leave me alone.”
His eyes rested on the dirty scrap for a moment before he gripped
it in a tight fist, pressing it against his chest. “It’s from Bryn,
okay? I managed to hang on to it while the Keepers had us
separated.”
“Oh.” She must have
written him a poem. My heart pinched and my eyes were burning. Did
she have anything of him with her? My brother and my best friend,
whose love I’d wanted to hide from the Keepers. Maybe it would have
been better if they had run away together. Could that have led to
anything worse than what was happening now?
Ansel rolled over,
facing away from me. “Just go.”
I stayed at the edge
of the bed, knees tucked up under my chin. When his long, steady
breaths assured me he’d fallen asleep, I stretched out, careful not
to touch him, resting my head on a pillow, still watching my
brother sleep.
After a while he
started to make sounds, soft mewling like a young animal in pain.
It went on and on as he quaked and trembled next to me, stirring
but never waking. I finally drifted to sleep, still listening to
the soft cries manifested by whatever nightmares clawed at Ansel’s
mind.