Alpha (27 page)

“Michael. I'll be fine, and we have bigger things to worry about.” I cleared my throat and summoned my Alpha voice, hoping it hadn't been revoked in light of my humiliating near-death experience. “First of all, sleeping arrangements. We're going to be here for a few days at least, and the quarters are obviously cramped. Though we are grateful for the ‘safe house.'” I smiled at Marc, and he tried to smile back, but obviously my broken face kind of killed the humor. “Marc, do you still have those air mattresses from last time?”

“Yeah. Two of them. In the hall closet. And there's a hand pump, too.”

“Good. Take Parker into town and buy several more. And get an electric pump, or we'll never get them all blown up. Also, blankets and pillows. Use Parker's company card.” Which my father had issued to each of us, for Pride business expenses. And this definitely qualified, even if we weren't officially in the Pride anymore.

Marc nodded, though I could tell from his scowl that he didn't want to leave me here. But he wouldn't argue, because it wouldn't be safe for Parker to go into town—in the free zone—without him. The local stray population knew Marc's scent from the time he'd spent here, and most of them would know what he'd suffered to help them, after Malone's plot to tag them all with GPS tracking chips.

“Mom…” I turned, holding my sore side, to find her watching me, one arm linked through Ryan's. “You, Kaci, and Manx can stay in the front bedroom. Michael,
you and Holly take the middle room. It's small, but you'll have it to yourselves.” For at least some semblance of privacy, though we'd be able to hear anything they said. “The guys can camp out in here.

“Ryan…” I started, then stopped. I wanted to kick him out. Driving the refugees into the free zone didn't absolve him of past crimes, and I still couldn't look at him without remembering that he'd set me up to be kidnapped and sold. But we needed him, and I couldn't let my personal grudges stand in the way of the Pride's well-being.
The greater good, Faythe
.

“Are you staying?” I finally asked. “Can we trust you?”

“Yes, on both counts.” Ryan nodded calmly. “I want to make up for—”

“No. You can't.” I wanted there to be no mistake about that. “But you do owe me,” I said, and he nodded again. “Take Vic into town and get food. Lots of food. Manx, will you show them what kind of diapers you need?” I asked, and she nodded, but before she could move, Owen was already digging in her diaper bag for samples.

I looked around the room, taking it all in. Meeting each pair of eyes. Wishing desperately that my father were there. Had we buried him only that morning? It already felt like an eternity had passed since I'd seen him.

Marc hovered near the door, holding his car keys, ready for action as usual. Jace stood in the doorway to the hall, watching me carefully, his expression a mixture of concern for me and…restlessness. He looked like he wanted to do something about our current situation, and standing still was about to kill him.

Most of the other guys looked pissed off and a little disoriented, but not truly traumatized by our forced relocation, because the burden wasn't theirs, and neither was the responsibility. They had the luxury of following orders, and evidently the confidence that I would know what to do soon, if I didn't already. That I could lead them.

If only I had that same confidence in myself.

My mother looked exhausted, plain and simple. I caught Ryan's attention and nodded subtly toward an empty armchair, then pointedly at our mother. He led her to sit.

Kaci sat glued to my side, oblivious to the many bruises my clothes hid, clinging to the only thing she understood, the only thing she still had, when the rest of her world had been ripped out from under her. She was homeless and on the run—again—and the only difference this time was that she wasn't alone. And for the moment, that was all I had to offer her.

Holly… My biggest regret of the day—other than not being able to pound Dean into a large puddle of pureed tomcat—was that Holly had been with us when the proverbial shit hit the fan. But truthfully, I wasn't sure how safe the south-central territory would be for her now, without us there, and the only alternative would mean separating her from her husband.

At the moment, she looked confused and scared, but mostly mad, and my opinion of her went up another notch at the steady spark of anger in her eyes.

“As of now, we are officially in exile,” I began, when I was sure I had everyone's attention. “However, I have a plan. We will take our territory back. But it's going to take a few days to organize, which is actually kind
of convenient, because it's probably going to take a few days for me to heal. Right, Doc?” I forced a good-humored smile his way, and he tried to return it.

“At least.”

“Until then,” I continued. “This is home. I want everyone to get plenty of rest tonight, because tomorrow, we make plans to bury the new council chair. And don't worry about the shovel shortage,” I said, glancing from face to determined face. “Because Calvin Malone has just dug his own grave.”

“H
olly, would you like a drink?” I asked, eyeing Michael, wondering why he hadn't thought of that already. But he only shook his head, and I caught a flare of annoyance in his frown.

“She doesn't drink. Alcohol has too many calories.”

And homemade cocoa doesn't? I glanced from my brother to his wife, whose hands were actually shaking in her lap. “I think she'd make an exception today.”

Holly nodded, crossing her legs beneath her funeral skirt. “Something strong.” Maybe some of my clothes would fit her, until we could take her shopping.

Michael stood, and I called after him as he headed for the kitchen. “There should be several bottles left under the sink, and with any luck, the ice tray's full. But I doubt there's anything to mix with, other than Coke.”

While he poured, I glanced around the living room, assessing the general level of despair while I tried to decide how best to help my brother tell his wife that he wasn't entirely human. And neither was his family.

We had a little more breathing room, with four of the
toms gone on errands, but Marc's small house was still a tight fit for a group our size. I'd sent my mother to lie down, and Jace had blown up one of the air mattresses in the front bedroom for Manx and Des, who were both already asleep. He'd blown the other one up for Kaci, but so far she'd refused to leave my side, and I couldn't really blame her.

Owen, Brian, Carver, and Jace were playing poker at the card table in the kitchen, but had only made it through two hands so far, because Owen kept leaving to check on Manx, and Jace kept staring at me rather than at his hand.

Michael returned with a drink for his wife—whiskey and Coke, based on the scent—and sank onto the couch next to her, drawing in a long, tense breath. He was ready. But I couldn't let him do it.

Disclosure of our existence to a human was a capital offense, punishable by an automatic death sentence. In this particular case, we had no choice—Holly obviously knew something was very, very wrong, and even her mafia fixation would cease to make sense once we started planning for the renaissance of the south-central Pride.

But I couldn't give Malone a chance to take another brother from me or a husband from Holly. And if they didn't want to kill me for handing Lance Pierce over to the thunderbirds, then disclosing our secret to Holly wouldn't change that.

“Michael. Let me.”

He frowned. “Faythe…”

I shrugged. My Pride. My responsibility. “What are they going to do? Kill me twice?”

“You sure?” Michael asked, eyeing me closely.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, what the hell are you talking about?” Holly drained her short glass and coughed, then clutched it like nothing else in the world made sense at that moment. “If you're not some kind of mob family, who were the men in those cars and how can they kick you out of your own home? And if we had to run away to protect the women and children, why did we leave Faythe behind?”

Michael put a hand on her arm, trying to calm her. “Faythe isn't a woman—she's an Alpha.”

I frowned at Michael, warning him not to say anything else. All the important facts needed to come from me, or he'd be opening himself up to serious trouble.

“Um, point of fact,” Jace chimed in from the card table, flaunting an actual grin—the first I'd seen in a while. “That's not an either/or. She's very definitely a woman, too.”

Michael's eyes narrowed in irritation, but he refrained from replying, probably because his own personal life was in a bit of a shambles at the moment. He knew about me and Jace—we'd made a detail-less disclosure to the adult members of the household, out of necessity—but Kaci did not, so I shot Jace a censorious glance.

He shrugged in apology, but didn't look very sorry.

“I'm not following any of this,” Holly snapped, and I had to respect her spirit. “Look, I know something's wrong, and you guys have always been a little weird—sorry, but it's true—and I'm sitting here scared to death that someone's going to bust down the door with an automatic weapon and
equalize
us. So I wish you'd just spit it out. Whatever you have to say can't be worse than what I'm imagining.”

“Don't bet on that…” Kaci mumbled, and I put a hand on her arm to quiet her.

“You're right.” I tried to smile at Holly to reassure her, but I couldn't make my mouth cooperate. I was not in a smiley kind of place. “I'm sorry for what you've been through today, and I know it must be scary. But I need you to be patient. And as openminded as you can possibly manage.”

Holly only nodded, splitting her focus between me and Michael.

“We're not in any kind of mob or gang, though I can understand how it might look like that, from the outside.” I took a deep breath, uncomfortably aware that I was about to intentionally break one of our three most important laws. “We're shape-shifters. Specifically, feline. We're werecats. All of us.”

Holly blinked. Then she blinked again. Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. Then she turned to Michael, brows raised in question. “I'm seriously traumatized here, and she's making jokes. This isn't funny. Tell me what the hell is going on, or I'm out of here. For good, Michael.”

“She's not joking. I know it sounds impossible. Crazy—” he began, but she cut him off.

“You think! I hope the men in those cars had a year's supply of straitjackets and Thorazine, because you're all insane. All of you. I'm leaving…” She tried to stand, and my hand closed over her wrist. Michael stood with her, moving smoothly between his wife and the front door.

“Let go of me!” She snatched her arm from my grip, and I let her go. Everyone was watching Holly now, except for Jace, who watched me expectantly.

“Michael…” I warned, hoping he could calm her without…extreme measures.

“Holly, you can't go. It's not safe—”

“The hell I can't.” She tried to step around him, and he took her by both arms, pleading with her silently to cooperate.

I stood. “Look, I'd show you myself, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly at my best tonight.” And Dr. Carver had forbidden Shifting until morning, at least.

Jace stood and dropped his cards on the table. “I'll show her.”

“No.” I wasn't going to put anyone else at risk.

Jace rolled his eyes. “Cal wants me dead, anyway. What's he gonna do, kill me twice?” He flashed another grin at having thrown my own words back at me, and I could only scowl. “Besides, you already told her. She's fully disclosed. I'm just offering a demonstration.”

I thought for a moment, then finally nodded.

Jace stepped into the middle of the living room, already pulling his shirt over his head. His arms bulged in the light from the dusty fixture overhead.

“What is he doing?” Holly demanded, and she actually took a step back when he unbuttoned his pants. “Why is he taking off his clothes?” She glanced at Kaci, then at Michael, silently demanding that he put a stop to what must have seemed like absolute insanity, for the sake of the child, if for nothing else.

Kaci cleared her throat, drawing Holly's attention as Jace stepped out of his jeans and underwear and dropped onto his hands and knees. “It's weird at first. Especially all the nudity. I know, 'cause I used to be like you. But Shifting with clothes on just doesn't make any sense.
I tried it once. My shirt tore and I got all tangled up in my jeans.”

Holly only gaped at her until Michael took his wife's hand. When she turned back to him, he gestured to where Jace was now on the floor on all fours, in the first phase of his Shift. His skin began to ripple, and Holly gasped. Her hands shook, the tremors so violent she nearly dropped her empty glass. When his wrists and ankles lengthened, she took a step back, ripping her hand from Michael's grip. “No. No, this isn't real. You…you put something in that drink. What did you do to me?”

Michael faced his wife and took her chin gently in both hands, forcing her to look at him. He leaned down so that their foreheads met and whispered to her, crooning almost like he would to a child. “It's real, Holly. It's all real. I'm sorry I never told you, and I'm even sorrier that I have to now. But you need to see this. This is who I am. This is who we all are, and if you can't live with that after you truly understand it, then you can go. No one will stop you.”

Though that was up for debate. We couldn't risk her telling anyone else, and frankly, that hadn't truly seemed like a credible threat until that very moment.

“But first you have to see,” Michael finished. Then he stepped to the side, revealing Jace again.

Jace's hands and feet had become paws, his digits already plumping into toe pads. His fingernails lengthened and hardened into claws, even as his head began to bulge and shift with the formation of his new muzzle.

Holly's pulse raced. Each breath came faster than the last. She was hyperventilating, and based on her
physiological signs of stress,
she
could have been the one Shifting.

“It's okay…” Michael whispered, his arms around her waist for comfort, his chin resting on her shoulder. I'd rarely seen him like that, as the gentle, concerned husband, and even though she was clearly near total breakdown, she didn't push him away. He could still comfort her, even when he was part of what she feared. It was achingly sweet, in the most surreal way imaginable.

In the middle of the floor, Jace looked like a giant, bald cat. His spine was a knobby ridge trailing over his back, ending in a long, flesh-colored tail. And as I watched, thick black fur began to sprout at his spine, spreading rapidly to cover his entire body.

Holly gasped again, but she now looked more awed than anything, though there were still clear lines of fear and disbelief around her eyes. Seconds later, the show was over. Jace stood tall on four legs, arching his spine dramatically as he stretched to get comfortable in his new form, like a giant Halloween cat. Then he stuck his rump in the air and waved his tail in greeting.

Fortunately, he refrained from showing off either his sharp new teeth or his wickedly curved, retractable claws. Either of which might have been too much for Holly, at least this early in the game.

Jace stepped toward her, and Holly yelped and nearly backed over her husband.

Kaci laughed, and her genuine amusement sounded strange to my ears—I hadn't heard it in such a long time. She crossed the floor toward Jace boldly and sank to her knees in front of him, running one hand over his head to scratch behind his ears.

“Karli, don't!” Holly breathed, but Kaci only laughed again.

“It's okay. I can do that, too. Wanna see?”

But though she looked fascinated, Holly clearly did not want to see any more Shifting just yet.

Jace purred and rubbed his cheek against Kaci's, marking her with his scent, reassuring her that they were still good friends—a typical cat greeting. Kaci trailed her hand over his back, as far as she could reach without getting up. Then she looked up at Holly, and the calm I saw on her face—some small bit of peace, in spite of so much recent trauma—eased part of the guilt weighing so heavily on my heart and mind. Kaci was okay. Somehow, in spite of all she'd been through with us and before she'd found us, Kaci was going to be just fine. And if anyone could help Holly adjust, it was our own little human-born tabby.

“You wanna pet him?” Kaci asked, encouraging Holly with her unspoken display of trust. Her comfort with the huge cat did more to convince Holly than anything we could have said to her. “He'll let you. If I ask him to,” Kaci added as an afterthought, and I smiled at her small, instinctive attempt to establish her rank in the Pride—over Holly. That meant that she considered herself to have come first, but also that she recognized Holly as one of us. Part of the family, finally. For better or for worse.

“Um, I don't…” Holly started, and Michael rubbed her arm.

“Go ahead. It's okay. He's still Jace. In fact, he's almost more Jace now than he was in human form.”

Holly frowned at that, but when Michael tugged her forward, she let him.

She wouldn't kneel next to the giant cat—proving that humans aren't completely devoid of a self-preservation instinct—but she did bend over and tentatively touch the fur on his back, once Jace had given her permission with a soft purr.

The moment she touched him, she believed. I saw the difference in her face. It was one thing to see—we truly could have spiked her drink, or she could have been dreaming. But she couldn't deny the physical reality beneath her hand.

Holly's eyes widened, and she stroked Jace's back again. “It's soft, but kind of coarse…” she whispered, as if speaking out loud might anger the cat and get her eaten. “Not like a house cat.”

“We're not house cats,” Michael said softly, and Holly stood to look at him.

“You can…? You can do this?”

He nodded, studying her reaction carefully. “I
have
to do this at least every few weeks, or I get sick. But I usually do it a lot more often than that. It's part of who I am.”

“That's where you go…” Holly was studying her husband now. “That's why you're always on the ranch. So you can do this. So you can
be
this.”

I shrugged. “Well, that, and because we've kind of had a bad patch lately, politically speaking.”

“What does that mean?” Holly asked, and Michael promised to explain it later, insisting that she'd probably heard enough for the moment. Half an hour later, they retired to their room, and I could hear Michael whispering to her, explaining about territories, and Prides, and the council, in spite of his proclamation that sleep ought to come before further trauma.

I liked Holly even more for her persistence.

While we waited for the other toms to return, Dr. Carver gave me another once-over on the couch. My eyes were dilating properly by then and I had no more dizziness or nausea, though I still looked like I'd fallen face-first into a meat grinder. And felt like it, too.