Blood Bond (30 page)

Wes didn’t wait for an answer before
scooping me up and hurrying down the hall. I whimpered at being
jostled but struggled against the searing pain in my head to keep
silent. Something George had said felt important, but around the
pounding, I couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

Wes laid me down on George’s bed—I could
smell him on the sheets—and Professor Flaherty came in. I didn’t
bother opening my eyes. Even with the lights off, it hurt too
much.

“Tara, can you hear me?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Your head is hurting?”

I nodded again.

“Can you help her?” Wes asked.

“I mentioned it to Astor. I think I know
what’s happening.” The mattress depressed as she leaned closer. “I
think you do too. Honey, you need to let go. George already has and
the process wasn’t painful for him at all. It’s only hurting you
because you’re fighting it.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. It would’ve
pushed the pain over the edge.

“Fighting what?” Wes asked. He sounded
angry—and confused. “Can’t you do something to help her?”

“No,” Professor Flaherty said. “She has to
do it herself. Astor said it’s the only way. She has to stop
fighting it and let it happen.”

“Let what happen? Pain?” Wes’s voice rose
and I winced and curled the pillow around my ears.

“It would be better for her if we didn’t
talk for now,” Professor Flaherty said, her voice muffled. “We
should step out until she’s ready.”

“I’m not leaving her.” Wes and George spoke
in unison.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me,”
Professor Flaherty said.

The door opened and closed. Then there was
silence.

Someone took my hand. I could tell by the
circles his thumb drew on my palm it was Wes.

A second later, I heard a voice near my ear.
“You have to let go, Tay,” George whispered. His voice was quiet,
so low I almost missed the words. “I let go and it doesn’t hurt.
It’s not as scary as it sounds. You can do this.”

I sucked in a breath, let it out. I knew
what I had to do.

One by one, I relaxed my muscles. Beginning
with my feet, my ankles, my legs, all the way up to my neck. Soon
all that was left was my head. The pain had begun to recede a
little. It was at the edges, ready to flood back in again if I
changed my mind.

Only, I couldn’t.

I had to do this. I braced myself for
whatever came next—and then I let go.

Chapter Seventeen

“Tara? Can you hear me?”

I fought my way to the surface,
concentrating on the sound of Wes’s voice, the pressure of his hand
drawing slow circles across my palm.

“Tara, please wake up,” he pleaded.

I opened my eyes hesitantly, afraid of
bringing back the pain, but there was none. Only calm. And the
feeling from before that I wasn’t alone, which was completely true,
since George and Wes were both hovering over me. They wore matching
expressions of drawn brows and worried frowns. George looked
slightly less manic, though.

“It’s all right, I’m fine now,” I said.
Things were clicking into place.

“You’re sure? Because before …” Wes trailed
off as I nodded.

“I’m sure.” The pain, the agony, the
crushing pounding in my skull—all of that was gone. In its place
was understanding. I looked at George. He was watching me with more
concentration than worry. I smiled. “Your skills of projection are
impressive. I’m calm now,” I told him.

“I wasn’t sure how much you’d feel,” he
said.

“Everything. How did you know?”

“When your head started hurting, so did
mine,” he said. “Almost as badly too. For a few minutes I didn’t
realize, but then it sort of just hit me. And I knew it was
you.”

I sat up. “Like I know it’s you sending me
calm feelings right now.”

“Right. It’s like you have this signature in
my mind—a scent in my brain. Weird.”

“Can somebody explain to me what the hell is
going on?” Wes stared back and forth between us with wide eyes. He
looked torn between confusion and irritation.

“Um, I may have forgotten to mention one of
the side effects of the transfusion,” I said.

“Well, now might be a good time,” he
said.

“George and I are sort of, uh, bonded, I
guess.”

“Bonded,” Wes repeated. “As in, a deep
friendship?”

“As in, I can feel what he feels, and he can
feel what I feel.”

“Like read each other’s minds?”

I chose my words carefully, because I wasn’t
sure if Wes was angry, but he didn’t look happy. “No, not thoughts,
exactly. Feelings. Emotions. George was projecting calmness and it
made me feel better.”

“And earlier, when you had that headache, he
knew to come because he could feel your pain?” Wes asked.

“Right,” George answered. Wes looked at him.
George smiled, which didn’t help.

“So, you guys are a pack now?” Wes shook his
head. “That’s great.”

“We’re not a pack,” I said, startled at the
idea. That would suggest I was a Werewolf, which I wasn’t. Not
really. Yet.

“The bond you’re talking about sure sounds
like a pack. Not that it’s normally anywhere near this strong, but
being in tune with each other, coming to the other’s aid. I hate to
break it to you, Tara, but you two are most definitely a pack. And
by the looks of it, you’re the alpha.”

“Alpha to whom?” a voice from the doorway
asked.

No one answered. Neither of the boys turned
to identify the speaker. We all recognized it.

I gulped, my throat suddenly dry. I drew my
eyes to the doorway and stared back at Grandma.

“Hi,” I squeaked.

Grandma didn’t respond. She pointed to the
boys. “You, you, out.” They left without a word or a backwards
glance. Traitors.

Grandma shut the door behind her and dropped
her bag on the floor. She sat on the bed near the end, keeping her
distance from me. I hung my head.

“How much trouble am I in?”

“With me or your mother?” she shot back. I
could feel her eyes burning a hole in the top of my head. I raised
my eyes to hers.

“With you,” I said. I could handle my mom; I
knew what to expect with her. Grandma was a different story. She’d
either smother me with guilt until I’d sufficiently punished myself
or tie me to a chair.

“Considering you’ve just registered on my
supernatural radar as a Werewolf …” I winced as she let that hang
in the air. “I haven’t decided yet. Pack your things. We’re
leaving.”

“Leaving? But—”

“Leaving,” she repeated, packing a punch in
that one word.

“But George—”

“Is cured, I’m told, thanks to his new
alpha.”

“You spoke with Professor Flaherty?”

“And Astor, for all the good that did. I’m
not discussing this right now. We can talk in the car.” She rose.
“You have five minutes. I’ll be in the hall.” She didn’t wait for
an answer before picking up her bag and exiting the room. Through
the open door, I could hear her pressing buttons on her phone.

I got up and found my bag in the corner near
the chair where I’d slept. Nothing was really unpacked, so even
though she’d given me five minutes, I was ready in one.

“Can I at least say goodbye?” I asked.

“I’ve already thanked Professor Flaherty for
her hospitality. The rest of them you can see at home. The car’s
waiting.” She spun and followed a waiting Mathias toward the door.
All I could do was follow.

The hall was deserted. I walked as slowly as
I dared, hoping for Wes, or George since he had to feel my
desperation right now. They could at least wave from a doorway or
something. But no one came.

Mathias held the front door for me as I
passed. It was, apparently, my only goodbye.

“Later, Jeeves,” I said. I could’ve sworn
his lips twitched.

A sleek, black limousine idled in the drive.
A man in uniform, complete with white driving gloves, held the car
door open. Grandma handed him her bag and climbed inside. I did the
same, but I kept my bag with me. I wasn’t sure why, but it made me
feel better. More in control.

“A limo?” I asked, brow raised. I’d never
seen Grandma travel in anything other than her glorified tank.

“It’s all they had,” she said pointedly.
“This trip wasn’t exactly planned.”

I slid across the leather seat, blinking
against the sudden dimness of the interior. Track lighting lit the
compartment, like mini-nightlights. I jumped at the sight of
another person sitting across from me.

“Alex, what are you doing here?”

I looked at Grandma, who
was busy smoothing her bedazzled
Nevada
tee. “Protection,” she
said.

“He’s our bodyguard?” I asked in surprise.
“Since when do you need a bodyguard?”

She glared at me. “I have my reasons.”

The partition mid-car lowered. Wire-rimmed
sunglasses stared back at us through the rearview. “Are we ready,
ma’am?” the driver asked.

“We are. Remember to stay off the main
roads,” she told him.

“Yes, ma’am.” The partition slid closed and
the car eased forward.

Anxiety crept in, almost blotting out the
knowledge I’d left without saying goodbye, without knowing when I’d
see any of them again. When the car reached the end of the drive, I
twisted around and watched the house disappear from sight.

“My car,” I said, catching sight of it just
before we turned the corner.

“George will drive it back. I already spoke
to him,” Grandma said.

“Of course you did.” That explained why I
hadn’t felt any strong emotions through our bond. He was more
informed than I was. “Grandma? What’s going on?” I asked.

Grandma looked at Alex, eyebrows raised
questioningly.

“It’s fine,” he said.

“What’s—”

“Turn the radio on,” she said. He hit the
power button. A whiny country song spilled out of the speakers.
Alex reached to turn it down. “Leave it,” she said. His hand fell
back to his lap.

“I know you have questions,” she said to me,
keeping her voice even with the volume of the stereo. I had to
strain to hear her. “But I couldn’t risk explaining until we’d
gotten you out. Alex told me what happened, how you saved George,
and how you’re starting to shift.”

“Alex,” I hissed.

Grandma held up a hand between us, like a
referee. “We don’t have time for that. He was doing you a favor. I
can’t help you if I don’t know the truth.” She gave me a look that
reminded me I was the one in trouble, not Alex.

“Help me how?” I asked.

“With CHAS. They cannot,
and I mean
cannot
know about this,” she said. “There are things in place,
wheels turning, that you know nothing about. Maybe if you had, we
could’ve handled it better, I don’t know. Alex thought maybe we
could keep a lid on it, but then Wes showed up and you came here
...” She sighed.

“I don’t understand. What’s going on with
CHAS? Please don’t tell me you’re going to turn George over to
them.”

“Why on earth would I do that?” she
asked.

“Because you work for them. You’re on the
council. You’re always talking about ‘we have to call CHAS’ and
‘CHAS will want to know about this.’” I shrugged. “Sometimes I
wonder who you’d be loyal to if it came down to choosing.”

“You listen to me, young lady,” she said
pointing a finger in my face. “I am loyal to you, first, last,
always. The things I’m doing for CHAS are all for you. And you’re
one to talk about loyalty. When have you ever trusted me with the
whole story, huh?”

I didn’t argue. She was right. I decided to
focus on the first part, the one that didn’t have to do with me
lying to her. “What do you mean you’re doing everything for me?
What does CHAS have to do with me?”

“Just tell her, Edie. It’s too late to keep
it from her,” Alex said.

Grandma nodded. “All right, then. Here it
is. Alex and I, along with a couple others, have been working to
bring CHAS down from the inside. Or more specifically, Gordon
Steppe.”

“What?” Of all the things she could’ve said,
this I hadn’t expected. “But, Alex, you joined Kane’s scout
team.”

“A cover,” he said.

Something inside me welled with happiness. I
shoved it aside. “You lied to me?”

“I had to. I couldn’t tell anyone what I was
really doing. As a part of Kane’s team, I was able to pass
information to your grandmother without anyone suspecting. Then you
called and I thought for a second you knew things. It’s one of the
reasons I agreed to help you. When I found out the truth, I got on
a plane.”

“Won’t Kane be angry? Will he fire you?” I
asked.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I’m out.” His
voice was flat. Something more had happened.

He stared out the window, making it clear
his part of the explanation was done.

“I still don’t understand what I have to do
with all this,” I said.

Grandma took my hand and patted it.
“Sweetie, CHAS has one mission and one mission only: to stamp
Werewolves out of existence. Doesn’t matter if they’re good or bad.
To Steppe, they’re soulless, incapable of good. To him, they don’t
deserve to live, much less have the right to a fair trial and all
that. If they knew what you could do … I’m assuming you know about
Mary Beth now, the real way she died.”

“Yes, Professor Flaherty told me.”

“That was Steppe’s first run-in with a
hybrid. It happened right after he took over as director.”

I started to correct her. Mary Beth had been
a Werewolf. Then I remembered what Professor Flaherty had said,
about Astor and Mary Beth having the bond George and I had. “He
made them both hybrids,” I said.

She nodded. “Steppe couldn’t stand it. The
only reason he didn’t kill Astor too was because he saw what Mary
Beth’s death did to him, and he knew Astor would no longer be a
threat. But now, with you going to see him, using him to help
George, you’ve painted a target on your own head. We can’t let
Steppe find out you were there.”