Blood Bond (16 page)

Cambria’s lips twitched. I smiled at George,
grateful for the way he’d lightened the mood. Derek reappeared in
the doorway. He watched Cambria from across the room with the same
worried expression as before. Cambria spotted him and he
straightened. It was kind of cute the way he seemed to stretch to
his full height whenever their eyes met. And it made him seem
friendlier, even though it wasn’t directed at me.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she returned. From the corner of my
eye, I saw George’s brow rise.

“Cord’s good for now. There’s some old Van
Damme flick on TV. You guys want to watch?” He only looked at
Cambria as he said it.

“Sure.” She slid off the stool and headed
out. “You coming?” she asked me.

“I’ll be there in five. I think I’ll eat
your brownie.”

“I know, I know, it’s like the apocalypse or
something, me passing up dessert. I’ll make up for it later.”

“I know you will,” I called as they left.
George moved to follow but I grabbed his arm.

“What’s up?” he asked.

I held my finger to my lips and waited until
Derek’s and Cambria’s footsteps faded into the other room and the
volume on the TV kicked up a notch. There’d be no point in bringing
Cambria in on this if George wasn’t on board. Then again, I didn’t
plan on giving him much choice. I pulled him against the corner of
the counter and whispered, “I think I have a plan. A way to help
you. Do you trust me?”

“Of cour—”

“Sshh.” I glanced at the doorway.

“Of course,” he repeated, his voice barely
audible. “But why do I get the feeling no one else approves of this
plan?”

I bit my lip. “I’m not going to lie, it
could be dangerous. I don’t know what we’ll be walking into. But
this guy is our only option, and I have to try.”

His brows knitted. “You’re talking about
that Astor guy, aren’t you? I thought he was crazy, off his rocker
or something.”

“He might be, but he also might have
answers. And we don’t have time to wait around for a better
option.”

He ran a hand through his half-dried hair.
It fell over his forehead in shiny blond waves, where it’d grown
out the last few weeks. Everything about him looked healthier,
sturdier, stronger. It wouldn’t be long now. I could sense it on
him, like a coiled spring held by a single finger. Any moment, the
power inside him would release. I wondered if it wasn’t already too
late. “All right,” he said, breaking into my thoughts. “What do you
need me to do?”

In hurried whispers, I gave him the details
of our plan for slipping away, and Wes’s side trip to retrieve a
hard drive that would hopefully have any answers Astor didn’t. When
I was done, he simply nodded, his eyes sparkling. No doubt he
thought of this as simply an adventure. Did he even understand the
danger that awaited him once he crossed over into his new life?

When we finished, I let out a breath full of
relief and anxiety. I watched George out of the corner of my eye as
we finished our brownies and my heart hammered against my chest. I
listened to the sounds of an action sequence from the movie in the
other room and tried not to imagine it as the soundtrack for my own
life.

Chapter Nine

Two days later, I stood at the edge of the
woods for Bailey’s funeral. It was the first funeral—Werewolf or
otherwise—I’d ever been to. Werewolves, some in human form and some
not, were everywhere. The front yard was packed with cars, but
there were several arrivals I’d seen wander up by way of the path
out back.

Did Bailey really know all of these people
in his short life, or were most paying respects to the organization
as a whole?

There were the familiar faces of The Cause
members, including some I’d met when Leo had come after me. Jill, a
dark-haired Hunter I’d met at that first meeting, walked by and
waved. It surprised me that she remembered me or that she would
acknowledge it. I’d grown so used to being shunned, friendly
gestures made me suspicious.

George’s hand tightened in mine. I looked
down at our joined fingers and then up at him, squeezing back. I
knew he was trying to comfort me against the sight of the dark
cedar coffin set before us. I’d yet to actually look at it. I’d
seen it briefly when we’d made our way down from the house, but the
sight of Derek in wolf form, a solemn sentry standing guard beside
it, brought such a surge of tears, I’d purposely averted my gaze
ever since.

I’d said my goodbyes already. Cambria and I
had come early, before Jack had sealed up the coffin. I’d sat in
the guest room and let the tears come, willing my body to empty
itself when no one was around to see. Between sobs I’d repeated,
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again, until Cambria came in
and pulled me away.

Now there was a hole where my heart
should’ve been.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew the
thing with the hybrids was far from over. Their leader—someone who
was not Miles—wanted me. For what, I didn’t know. I had no doubt
they’d keep coming, or that my friends would keep fighting for me.
That knowledge only served to solidify my decision to leave with
George. Until he was healed, I couldn’t allow myself to focus on
the hybrids, or anything else. At least with me gone, the others I
cared about were safe.

Except for Bailey.

Cambria nudged me. Each time I looked at
her, I had to look away; the vanilla-cream scarf around her neck
reminded me so strongly of Bailey’s coat. She held a tissue out to
me. I shook my head. I was determined to hold it together.

The back door swung open. Sunlight caught
Jack’s face as he stepped onto the grass. I could see the
shimmering trail of wet as tears traced down his cheeks. Then his
feet hit the ground and he shifted, a single fluid motion that
created a rippling effect in the instant before thick fur replaced
his skin. When he’d completed the transition, he raised his head
toward the group.

Behind him were Fee, Cord, and Wes. Vera
remained inside. She’d come out that morning to remove the wards
around the house, allowing visitors onto the property, only to find
they’d already dissolved. I’d never seen her so drained or
empty-looking. It scared me—someone who had once seemed so strong
and invincible reduced to a shell of what she’d been. It made my
eyes well with fresh grief for what was to come.

Near the backdoor, Fee watched Jack shift
with a longing expression, like she’d rather do the same, but Cord
hung on her arm, face downcast, shoulders set. Fee’s lips moved in
whispered words of comfort. As they neared the woods’ edge, Cord
stumbled, her heel catching on a pine cone. Wes stepped up and
grabbed her elbow to steady her, and I could finally see him
clearly.

He’d combed his hair, letting it fall to the
side instead of his usual style: gelled into disarray. And he wore
a suit—navy blue slacks and jacket with a silver tie. The sun
glinted off his hair, exposing the varied hues of auburn. Despite
my sadness, and the tight rein I was trying to keep on my emotions,
my breath caught at the sight of him.

He led Cord and Fee to the group of folding
chairs that had been set up on one side of the coffin and pulled
Cord down next to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders so
his fingertips reached Fee. The other hand dug into his pocket and
produced a wad of tissues that he pressed into Cord’s hand. Then
his eyes lifted to the coffin in front of him. His expression as he
stared at it was a mixture of grief and longing so sharp I had to
hold my breath against the pricks of pain in my own heart.

I reached over and took the offered tissue
out of Cambria’s hand. She sent me an understanding smile and
squeezed my arm.

Then Jack walked to the podium and began to
speak. “Thank you all for coming today. We are here to celebrate
the life of Bailey Vincent Ross. A life that started out shadowed
by grief and loneliness but ended in joy and a tie to a family so
strong, even death cannot break it. Bailey was, and will always be,
an important member of our family. He belonged to all of us, just
as all of you belonged to him. To all of you who had a hand in
shaping him into the man he became, I know he was grateful, as am
I. Bailey was special, and he will never be forgotten.”

Tears ran unchecked down my cheeks as Jack
went on. By the time he’d finished, there were more sniffles than
stoic faces in the crowd. George managed to hold it together, but I
could see the sheen of tears in his eyes when he shifted his gaze
away.

Jack concluded by saying, “Bailey will be
buried in our family plot.”

He pointed in the direction of the small
graveyard Wes had shown me the day before. Small, nondescript
headstones sprung up from about a dozen plots in a small clearing,
their engravings simple—names, dates, a short message on each. The
newest addition, Jack’s father, read: Joseph Wolfe. 1936-1999.
Fierce leader, loving father.

“After the burial, all Weres will reconvene
here for the pack run,” Jack finished.

He nodded to Fee. She and Cord rose to their
feet. Wes followed behind and, one at a time, they selected a fresh
rose from a bucket near the chairs and laid it over the coffin.
Then they made their way back to the house and the crowd broke up.
Some wandered away and some approached the coffin, selecting a
flower to place on top. I stayed where I was, sniffling and wiping
at my eyes with my mascara-stained tissue.

“Tay, what do you want to do?” George asked,
his voice low and gentle in my ear. “Do you want to go place a
flower?” I shook my head. “Do you want to go inside?” I shook my
head again. The thought of four walls made me restless.

Cambria tugged on my wrist. “Come on, let’s
go for a walk.”

I let Cambria lead. She chose a path that
cut away from most of the other guests and wound around the edge of
the yard toward the front. George and I followed in silence.

“It was a nice service,” Cambria said,
stopping to sit on a fallen tree.

“It was,” I agreed.

Now that it was over, my nerves were quickly
drying my tears. Grief was replaced by restlessness and adrenaline.
The time to make our escape was almost here. If any part of our
plan went wrong, the whole thing would fall apart. I dried my eyes
one last time and took a deep breath. I didn’t have time to be sad
right now. I needed to focus, make sure this worked.

“How are you feeling, Cam?” I asked.

She looked up at me. “Right as rain, unless
you count my momma drama.”

“Cam …” I sank down next to her.

When I’d first told her the plan, I’d been
fully prepared for her to wig out, to scream that I find another
way. After her initial refusal, I wasn’t sure how she’d respond to
my idea to sneak off and find Astor. But she’d been perfectly
willing to go along with my idea—one that left her behind, fending
for herself against my mother.

She’d dropped enough comments about Derek
that I suspected it had just as much to do with him as it did
helping George, Wes, and me escape. But with everything happening
with her mom, I needed to know I could count on her.

“If you’re not up for this, I understand,” I
began.

“I got this, Godfrey.” She gave me a mock
salute. “I’m a soldier.” I smiled but it was laced with worry.
“Relax, I mean it. I can compel in my sleep. They’ll all think
you’re off flirting—I mean, training with Alex.” She grinned. “And
wow, your mom was easy to convince, I probably don’t even need to
charm her. She obviously approves of that choice.” She wiggled her
eyebrows.

I ignored it—and the way she’d said
“choice.”

“I think she assumes my life would be
easier, less like hers, if I was involved with a Hunter. She’s
afraid of the complications a Werewolf brings. If she had her way,
I’d marry a human and lead Girl Scouts or something. Speaking of
Werewolves, how’s Derek? He seemed wound pretty tight during the
service.”

Cambria nodded. “He thinks he has to be
strong for Cord and Fee, but he’s not letting himself grieve.”

It shouldn’t have surprised me that she knew
so much about him already. Every moment she wasn’t with me, she was
with him. I had no idea what they talked about, and he still barely
said two words to me, but he seemed to have a soft spot for her,
and she acted more serious about him than I’d expected.

“Maybe after the burial, you can talk to
him. Maybe he just needs someone to listen,” I said.

At Wes’s insistence, I’d agreed to let
Cambria tell Derek where we really were. I hadn’t wanted to, but if
Wes trusted me with the plan, the least I could do was trust his
judgment when it came to his best friend. And Cambria wouldn’t
agree to compel him.

“Yeah, I’ll have to wait until after their
run, though,” she said. “Sort of a weird tradition for Werewolves.
One of your pack members bites it and you run? I don’t get it.”

“It’s a unity thing,” George said.

We both looked up at him, surprised. He
shrugged. “Wes and Derek were telling me about it yesterday. It’s
to show unity in the remaining pack, like they’re all there for
each other and have each other’s backs and stuff. And it’s a sign
of respect toward the deceased, a symbol of family.”

Cambria smirked. “So, you’re like BFFs with
Tara’s boyfriend now?”

“Wes isn’t a bad guy,” he said. “He just
makes it hard to get to know him.”

“And you don’t think that’s because you’re
in love with his girl?”

“Cambria,” I warned but George didn’t seem
bothered.

“Tara’s my best friend. Always has been,
always will be. I’m happy that she’s happy.”

“Or you’re just waiting for him to screw
up,” Cambria pointed out.

I glared at her. “Can we talk about
something else?”

“Sure,” she agreed, ignoring my icy look.
“Oh, hey, your mom said to tell you it’s family night tonight.”