Taken by Storm
Page 32
Her baby blues glowed with predatory hunger.
“Somehow, some way, we damn well make it wish it hadn’t.”
Those were big words from such a little girl, but eminently effective, because within moments, we were headed down the mountain, Maddy, baby, and all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“GRIFFIN?” CALLUM SAID THE NAME THE SAME WAY I would have said Lucas’s, like Lake’s twin was the one he thought about—his regret—staring up at his ceiling at night. “Mitch’s son.”
“Yes.” I didn’t say much more than that. I waited for Callum to answer my unasked questions, to tell me that I was right to trust Griffin or vaguely hint that the choices I was making were wrong. But for once, Callum sounded like he hadn’t seen this coming. It was a novel enough experience that I figured he might need a moment.
After a few seconds of heavy silence, I decided he’d had enough time to adjust. “We don’t know how or why we can see him now, but whatever happened went down on a full moon three months ago. Maddy was Shifting at the time.”
Another silence fell. This time, it was Callum who broke it. “You think her baby had something to do with it.”
I hadn’t actually told Callum Maddy was pregnant, but I wasn’t surprised he knew. In fact, the only thing surprising about this was that he’d thought Maddy might be the Rabid in the first place.
He hadn’t seen this turn of events coming at all.
“We don’t know for sure that it’s the baby,” I told him. “But Maddy’s never had a problem with ghosts before.”
That was an understatement—like the rest of us, she’d had no idea that ghosts even existed. The question was, had Callum?
“Griffin says that he never left, that he was always here, and we just couldn’t see him.” I waited to see if Callum would take the bait.
He did.
“He stayed for Lake.” This time, there was no question in Callum’s voice.
“He stayed for Lake,” I repeated, and then, because I couldn’t help myself, I asked the question never far from my mind where Callum was concerned. “Did you know?”
Did he know that Griffin’s spirit hadn’t ever really left Lake? Did he know what kind of person Lake’s brother was now?
“There are stories, Bryn. Old stories, about what happens when a female werewolf outlives her twin—but if you’re asking if I knew that there was a way, any way, to bring a Shadow back, the answer is no.”
“Old stories,” I parroted. With Callum, there was no telling how “old” the stories in question might be. “About Shadows.”
The word felt funny on the tip of my tongue, but given that Griffin claimed to have been watching Lake for years, going where she went, aging as she did, it seemed somehow appropriate.
He’d been her Shadow, in more ways than one.
“I didn’t know it was more than a story, Bryn.” On the other end of the phone line, the man I’d come to see as omniscient expelled a breath. “This explains some things.”
I waited for him to elaborate. Given proper motivation, I could use patience like a weapon. He’d taught me that.
“I’ve never seen a future that included Griffin,” Callum said finally. “And when I foresaw the murders, I only saw Maddy.”
There’d been a kind of cold comfort in knowing, these past couple of years, that Callum could see the future. No matter how awful the situation I got into was, the fact that he’d probably seen it coming had helped me believe that there might be a way out of it.
Experience had taught me that Callum might willingly step back and let me go through hell. He would let me, maybe even make me fight my own battles. But I didn’t believe he’d let me die.
“You can’t see ghosts.” I said the words out loud.
“Shadows,” Callum corrected. “Ghost is a human word, and Shadows aren’t human. They never were.”
“Fine,” I amended. “You can’t see Shadows.”
“No.” That admission seemed to cost him something. “I can’t.”
“And you’re just now figuring this out?” Maybe I shouldn’t have sounded so shocked, but Callum had been alive long enough to see entire empires rise and fall. There wasn’t much he didn’t know.
“Werewolf twins are relatively rare, Bryn. One twin dying a violent death while the other lives on is even rarer—and besides, this is the first instance I’ve heard of where anyone except the living twin has been able to see, feel, or interact with a Shadow in any way.”
Violent death? I couldn’t help looking toward Lake—and Griffin. I thought he drowned.
Since those weren’t words I could say out loud—or even think to anyone else in the room—I turned my attention to a topic that Callum might actually be able to shed some
light on.
“Think this will stop them from coming after Maddy?” I didn’t specify who they were. I didn’t have to.
“Do you recall what, precisely, the proposition was that the Senate passed?”
I got the distinct impression that Callum wasn’t asking because he didn’t remember.
I wasn’t exactly in the mood for a test. “They voted to intervene if the Rabid became an exposure risk,” I said.
“No,” Callum corrected, “they voted to intervene if the girl became an exposure risk.”
I’d spent my formative years skirting Callum’s orders and looking for loopholes. I knew how to speak the truth without really telling it better than anyone I knew.
“The girl,” I said slowly, “isn’t a risk.”
“No,” Callum agreed. “She’s not.”
“So the Senate can’t use the Winchester attack to justify coming here,” I continued. “And since neither you nor I will give them access to our lands …”
Maddy was safe—at least from them, which meant one less thing to worry about for me. I just wished Callum had known something more about Shadows—how much of their original personalities they retained, how likely it was that Maddy had raised two, how exactly one might go about fighting a Shadow, besides trying to get at it through its living twin.
For a moment, I let myself consider the implications. If Griffin wasn’t telling the truth, if Lake was wrong about
him …
“How many female Weres are there besides Lake who have a dead twin?” I needed to know. There were so few natural-born females that if the number was bigger than zero, it wouldn’t be bigger by much.
Callum didn’t get the chance to answer my question. The line went suddenly dead. I tried to redial, but three things stopped me dead in my tracks.
The lights started flickering.
The door to the cheap motel room we’d rented slammed shut.
And Griffin disappeared.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
IN AN INSTANT, CHASE WAS BY MY SIDE AND LAKE WAS at Maddy’s. Caroline slipped effortlessly into the shadows, her back pressed up against the corner of the room, her eagle eyes sharp.
Something dark and primal crept over Jed’s eyes.
For a second, there was silence, and then I heard laughter—a deep, throaty chuckle that sounded absolutely nothing like Griffin.
Not Griffin.
Caroline went to draw a weapon, but I met her eyes, and she read the order in mine. Blades and bullets might pass straight through this predator, but the rest of us in this room weren’t immune. The last thing we needed was someone going down to friendly fire.
Lake, try to find Griffin. I kept my words short and to the point. Wherever he went, whatever just happened, get him back.
I stepped sideways, appraising the room, feeling the air on my skin and trying to pinpoint the origin of the laughter.
Nowhere. Everywhere.
To my left, cracks spread along the surface of the mirror, giving it the gossamer appearance of a spiderweb.
Then it shattered.
Jed lunged to his left. A blade of glass flew into the wall behind him, grazing his back.
There were too many of us in this room. Too many targets, too much glass.
Run, my instincts whispered, from the most ancient part of my brain. Run, and it will chase you.
“Somehow, some way, we damn well make it wish it hadn’t.”
Those were big words from such a little girl, but eminently effective, because within moments, we were headed down the mountain, Maddy, baby, and all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“GRIFFIN?” CALLUM SAID THE NAME THE SAME WAY I would have said Lucas’s, like Lake’s twin was the one he thought about—his regret—staring up at his ceiling at night. “Mitch’s son.”
“Yes.” I didn’t say much more than that. I waited for Callum to answer my unasked questions, to tell me that I was right to trust Griffin or vaguely hint that the choices I was making were wrong. But for once, Callum sounded like he hadn’t seen this coming. It was a novel enough experience that I figured he might need a moment.
After a few seconds of heavy silence, I decided he’d had enough time to adjust. “We don’t know how or why we can see him now, but whatever happened went down on a full moon three months ago. Maddy was Shifting at the time.”
Another silence fell. This time, it was Callum who broke it. “You think her baby had something to do with it.”
I hadn’t actually told Callum Maddy was pregnant, but I wasn’t surprised he knew. In fact, the only thing surprising about this was that he’d thought Maddy might be the Rabid in the first place.
He hadn’t seen this turn of events coming at all.
“We don’t know for sure that it’s the baby,” I told him. “But Maddy’s never had a problem with ghosts before.”
That was an understatement—like the rest of us, she’d had no idea that ghosts even existed. The question was, had Callum?
“Griffin says that he never left, that he was always here, and we just couldn’t see him.” I waited to see if Callum would take the bait.
He did.
“He stayed for Lake.” This time, there was no question in Callum’s voice.
“He stayed for Lake,” I repeated, and then, because I couldn’t help myself, I asked the question never far from my mind where Callum was concerned. “Did you know?”
Did he know that Griffin’s spirit hadn’t ever really left Lake? Did he know what kind of person Lake’s brother was now?
“There are stories, Bryn. Old stories, about what happens when a female werewolf outlives her twin—but if you’re asking if I knew that there was a way, any way, to bring a Shadow back, the answer is no.”
“Old stories,” I parroted. With Callum, there was no telling how “old” the stories in question might be. “About Shadows.”
The word felt funny on the tip of my tongue, but given that Griffin claimed to have been watching Lake for years, going where she went, aging as she did, it seemed somehow appropriate.
He’d been her Shadow, in more ways than one.
“I didn’t know it was more than a story, Bryn.” On the other end of the phone line, the man I’d come to see as omniscient expelled a breath. “This explains some things.”
I waited for him to elaborate. Given proper motivation, I could use patience like a weapon. He’d taught me that.
“I’ve never seen a future that included Griffin,” Callum said finally. “And when I foresaw the murders, I only saw Maddy.”
There’d been a kind of cold comfort in knowing, these past couple of years, that Callum could see the future. No matter how awful the situation I got into was, the fact that he’d probably seen it coming had helped me believe that there might be a way out of it.
Experience had taught me that Callum might willingly step back and let me go through hell. He would let me, maybe even make me fight my own battles. But I didn’t believe he’d let me die.
“You can’t see ghosts.” I said the words out loud.
“Shadows,” Callum corrected. “Ghost is a human word, and Shadows aren’t human. They never were.”
“Fine,” I amended. “You can’t see Shadows.”
“No.” That admission seemed to cost him something. “I can’t.”
“And you’re just now figuring this out?” Maybe I shouldn’t have sounded so shocked, but Callum had been alive long enough to see entire empires rise and fall. There wasn’t much he didn’t know.
“Werewolf twins are relatively rare, Bryn. One twin dying a violent death while the other lives on is even rarer—and besides, this is the first instance I’ve heard of where anyone except the living twin has been able to see, feel, or interact with a Shadow in any way.”
Violent death? I couldn’t help looking toward Lake—and Griffin. I thought he drowned.
Since those weren’t words I could say out loud—or even think to anyone else in the room—I turned my attention to a topic that Callum might actually be able to shed some
light on.
“Think this will stop them from coming after Maddy?” I didn’t specify who they were. I didn’t have to.
“Do you recall what, precisely, the proposition was that the Senate passed?”
I got the distinct impression that Callum wasn’t asking because he didn’t remember.
I wasn’t exactly in the mood for a test. “They voted to intervene if the Rabid became an exposure risk,” I said.
“No,” Callum corrected, “they voted to intervene if the girl became an exposure risk.”
I’d spent my formative years skirting Callum’s orders and looking for loopholes. I knew how to speak the truth without really telling it better than anyone I knew.
“The girl,” I said slowly, “isn’t a risk.”
“No,” Callum agreed. “She’s not.”
“So the Senate can’t use the Winchester attack to justify coming here,” I continued. “And since neither you nor I will give them access to our lands …”
Maddy was safe—at least from them, which meant one less thing to worry about for me. I just wished Callum had known something more about Shadows—how much of their original personalities they retained, how likely it was that Maddy had raised two, how exactly one might go about fighting a Shadow, besides trying to get at it through its living twin.
For a moment, I let myself consider the implications. If Griffin wasn’t telling the truth, if Lake was wrong about
him …
“How many female Weres are there besides Lake who have a dead twin?” I needed to know. There were so few natural-born females that if the number was bigger than zero, it wouldn’t be bigger by much.
Callum didn’t get the chance to answer my question. The line went suddenly dead. I tried to redial, but three things stopped me dead in my tracks.
The lights started flickering.
The door to the cheap motel room we’d rented slammed shut.
And Griffin disappeared.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
IN AN INSTANT, CHASE WAS BY MY SIDE AND LAKE WAS at Maddy’s. Caroline slipped effortlessly into the shadows, her back pressed up against the corner of the room, her eagle eyes sharp.
Something dark and primal crept over Jed’s eyes.
For a second, there was silence, and then I heard laughter—a deep, throaty chuckle that sounded absolutely nothing like Griffin.
Not Griffin.
Caroline went to draw a weapon, but I met her eyes, and she read the order in mine. Blades and bullets might pass straight through this predator, but the rest of us in this room weren’t immune. The last thing we needed was someone going down to friendly fire.
Lake, try to find Griffin. I kept my words short and to the point. Wherever he went, whatever just happened, get him back.
I stepped sideways, appraising the room, feeling the air on my skin and trying to pinpoint the origin of the laughter.
Nowhere. Everywhere.
To my left, cracks spread along the surface of the mirror, giving it the gossamer appearance of a spiderweb.
Then it shattered.
Jed lunged to his left. A blade of glass flew into the wall behind him, grazing his back.
There were too many of us in this room. Too many targets, too much glass.
Run, my instincts whispered, from the most ancient part of my brain. Run, and it will chase you.
