Blood Bond (39 page)

Cambria ignored the rest of us crowding
around and flung herself into his arms. He barely caught them both
from falling backward before hauling her off to the side and
holding her against him. The sight of it made my chest ache.

Jack carried Fee in his arms.

She was wrapped in a blanket, hanging limp.
Her blond hair hung in tangles and swayed with the movement of his
steps. I knew she must be breathing based on Jack’s set jaw. I
looked away quickly, swallowing hard.

Then I saw Wes.

He walked beside Jack, slow and steady,
their pace matched. Like Derek, he was shirtless and I got the
feeling he’d only just shifted. His disheveled hair and a single,
long scratch down his chest were the only sign he’d been in a
fight—that I could see. I searched his body for other wounds. The
fact that he was half-naked only registered after I assured myself
he wasn’t hurt. I wanted to run, to fling myself into Wes’s arms
like Cambria had done with Derek, but I held back. Right now, Jack
needed him more.

Alex walked behind the others, looking out
of place in a setting that was so familiar—so Werewolf—to me. His
jeans were dirty, and a hole had been torn in the knee and across
the right pocket. Blood coated his shin, too thick for me to see
the wound. He broke from his hushed conversation with Cord and
slipped in beside me, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. I squeezed
back and then leaned down to examine the cut on his leg.

“You’re hurt,” I said. I pulled the fabric
away to get a better look and he jumped.

“It’s fine. Just a scratch,” he said, waving
me away.

Jack didn’t acknowledge me as he passed
through the open door. He looked determined and unseeing.

Wes dropped a kiss on my cheek and glared at
Alex on his way inside. “I’ll be back after I help Jack get her
settled,” he said. He stood next to me, but his words—and the
threat in them—were directed at Alex.

“I’ll keep her company until then,” Alex
said.

I was hyperaware of Alex’s hand in mine, but
I didn’t let go. It would’ve felt like admitting guilt of some
kind. After a long pause, Wes continued up the stairs behind
Jack.

Cord walked in and climbed the stairs behind
them. Her shirt had a rip down the back, exposing bare skin that
was, thankfully, free of blood or injury. She didn’t speak, but her
eyes were hard and I suspected seeing Fee injured shook her.
Grandma brought up the rear, her hair disheveled and her “Grandmas
Rule” tee wrinkled where it had come untucked. Otherwise, she
looked no worse for wear.

Sam and Angela walked close beside her, one
tucked underneath each arm. When Sam spotted me, she rushed forward
and hugged me. “There you are. You have no idea … it was insane,”
she said. Her voice cracked on the last word.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” I said. “You’re not
hurt, are you?”

She shook her head, her voice laced with
tears. “No, they didn’t hurt us. Wes—I mean, I didn’t know it was
him at first—he and that girl-wolf got me out. Oh, geez, you’re
cut.” She stared in horror at Alex’s arm. Blood seeped out of a
wound on his bicep. It ran in rivulets down his arm and dripped
onto the hardwood.

“Dammit,” he said. “Must’ve broken open
again from the movement.”

“What happened?” I asked. “You didn’t get
bit, did you?”

“No, I …” he trailed off, looking at Angela.
She didn’t meet his eyes.

“Angela stabbed him with a butter knife,”
Sam said.

“What?” I stared at Angela incredulously.
“Why?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know he was one of
the good guys. He kept trying to grab me and force me to go with
him.”

“And you stabbed him?” I repeated.

“There were talking wolves, Tara. Wolves!
Every-freaking-where. He’s lucky it wasn’t a steak knife.”

“Alex isn’t a wolf,” I pointed out.

“He startled me.” She sidestepped away, and
I could see she felt badly, but she didn’t back down. I shook my
head.

“Come on, you,” Cambria said, pointing at
Alex. “I’ll clean you up.” She eyed first his arm, then his knee.
“Can you walk or do you need a wheelchair?”

“I can walk,” Alex grumbled.

He fell into step behind Cambria as she
headed toward the kitchen to find Fee’s first aid kit. I started to
follow but the look on Angela’s face stopped me. She and Sam were
still waiting for an explanation—deserved one, really.

“I’ll be right there,” I called.

“Take your time,” Cambria called back,
waving a hand without turning.

Before I could say anything, Sam picked up
her part of the conversation right where she’d left off. “It was
horrible. I mean, talking wolves? I thought I was losing my mind.
Maybe I am.”

“You’re not,” I said.

“But it’s just unbelievable, really. I mean,
wolves? Your Grandma said they’re Werewolves?” She laughed and the
harshness of it startled me. Her eyes shone and her pupils seemed
larger than they should’ve been. I took her hand and it shook in
mine.

“I know it’s unbelievable, but it’s true,” I
said, watching her carefully.

“How?” she asked. “I mean, it’s impossible,
right? Is it magic, or witchcraft, or what?”

I looked at Angela, expecting the same
mixture of shock and disbelief and general freaking out I saw in
Sam. Instead, Angela stood with arms crossed and a heavy frown. My
relief became overshadowed by apprehension. For months, I’d wanted
this moment. The moment where I could tell them the truth, share it
with them, stop keeping secrets. Now that it was here, what would
they think?

“I guess we should talk,” I said slowly, my
eyes fixed on Angela. I tried to read her, to gauge how much she’d
accepted already, but her face was a mask.

“I guess we should,” Angela agreed. Her
voice was crystal clear, as was the look in her eyes. “You want to
explain what exactly happened back there?”

I took a deep breath. “You should sit down
first.”

We filed in, with Grandma herding Sam—who
was now crying—into the living room behind Angela and me. Grandma
steered Sam to the couch where she curled into the corner, wedged
between the cushion and the armrest. Grandma pulled a blanket
around Sam’s shoulders and then slipped out.

I lowered myself onto the edge of Jack’s
chair and clasped my hands together, racking my brain for how to
begin. Angela stood with her back to me.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“About everything. And nothing. The past few
months. Your absence. Your distance even when you were around. My
theories you were depressed.” She laughed, the sound completely
absent of humor. “I wasn’t even close.”

“I … it’s a lot.”

“You can say that again.” She turned to face
me and I was struck by how calm she seemed. “You’re happy. I can
see that.”

“I am. Mostly. It’s complicated.”

“I can see that too.”

“I wanted to tell you.”

“At the mall?”

“And other times. Lots of other times. You
have no idea how often I picked up the phone, dialed your number,
and then changed my mind.”

“Here’s your chance.”

I stood and took a step toward her. She
backed up.

Grandma returned with Alex in tow. She
looked down at Sam, who was staring blankly at the empty fireplace.
“Alex, can you help me with her?” Grandma asked. “I want to take
her upstairs. It’ll make it easier for Wes.”

“You’re not taking her anywhere,” Angela
said. She crossed from the window to block Alex’s path. “She’s
staying where I can see her.” She stared up at him defiantly. He
didn’t argue or move to go around her.

“Ang, it’s okay. She can sleep up there,” I
said.

“She can do that right here.”

Alex looked at me, waiting for an answer,
and I nodded. “Fine, she can stay here.”

Angela crossed her arms, her expression full
of challenge and victory. It took me by surprise. This was
definitely not the Angela I was used to. I’d expected her to cower,
to lose it like Sam had. Instead, she was fierce and fearless. I
wondered what had happened to the timid girl I’d known before
today.

Alex lingered a second longer, looking down
at her curiously, then backed away.

“I’ll be right back,” Grandma said. She cast
one more glance at Sam and left. Alex slipped out behind her.

I listened to the ticking of the clock in
the hall and stared at my hands. Why couldn’t I think of what to
say? Why hadn’t I spent the last few hours figuring it out? Now
that they were here, and I had free rein to tell them the truth, I
felt … stuck.

“Anytime now,” Angela prompted.

“What you saw tonight … Wes, and the others,
they aren’t human,” I began.

“Yeah, I got that.” Angela’s words stung
with sarcasm. “They’re Werewolves.”

“Yes.”

“And the others?” Angela prompted. “The ones
with the glowing eyes?”

“They’re Werewolves, too, just … a different
kind.”

“Different how?”

“Most Werewolves are born with their
shifting ability,” I explained. “It’s genetic, passed down from
their parents. But the ones who came after you tonight were created
through an injection. They started off as humans or Hunters, which
is what I am, and the serum changed them.”

“You mean, like a science experiment gone
wrong?” Angela asked.

“Sort of. It messed with their DNA and they
aren’t the same. They’re …”

“Evil?” Angela finished.

Alex appeared in the doorway and my response
died away. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to agree with
Angela, though I knew Alex would. I caught sight of white gauze
through the hole in his jeans. He’d found a fresh shirt, one that
wasn’t covered in dirt, drool, and blood. Had he really borrowed a
shirt from a Werewolf? A strip of gauze peeked out from under the
sleeve. Already, a red stain coated the center. He took a spot on
the couch next to Sam.

“No,” I said, attempting to answer Angela’s
question. “I don’t know. Some of them, maybe. Whatever it is that
creates compassion or a connection to others, they don’t have it
once they become hybrids. Their conscience is gone.”

“They tried to k-kill us,” Sam said. She
stared at me, bottom lip quivering, and something inside me
tightened. This was not Sam. The Sam I knew should’ve been
laughing, joking, cuddling up to the hot guy who’d sat down next to
her. This was barely a shadow of that girl. I hated it.

“They’re after me,” I said.

“They tried to kill us to get to you,”
Angela said. I wasn’t sure how much of it was an accusation, but I
felt the guilt.

“Yes.”

At that, Sam began crying again. Her whole
body shook with the sobs. Her cheeks, already stained with tears
and makeup, shone with renewed moisture. Alex scooted closer and
put an arm around her. “You’re safe now,” he said in a low voice.
“I wouldn’t have let them hurt you.”

“Angela almost killed you,” Sam said between
sobs.

Alex sent Angela an amused expression. “Not
even close.”

“Why aren’t you a wolf too?” Sam asked
him.

“I’m a Hunter,” he explained. “It’s my job
to kill Werewolves, to protect humans like you. A butter knife
isn’t enough to stop me.”

“Are you sure, because you screamed really
loud when it went in,” she said.

Angela snorted. I hid a smile.

“I did not scream,” he said. He looked at
me. “Do not laugh.”

“I’m not.”

“She’s in shock.”

“I know.”

Grandma returned and handed Sam a steaming
mug. “Drink this, dear.”

“Wh-what is it?” Sam asked.

“It will calm you down,” Grandma told her.
“There you go.” She helped Sam steady it as she tipped it back. Sam
downed it in three gulps and almost immediately the shaking
subsided.

Already, Sam’s eyelids looked heavier.
Grandma shifted her so that Sam’s head leaned on the armrest.

“Sam’s out,” Angela said. “And I’m still
waiting. You still haven’t explained anything I didn’t already see
for myself. Just come out with it already,” she said. “I want the
whole story.”

I nodded at her. “All right.”

The ceiling creaked as someone moved around
upstairs. My stomach tightened. “Grandma, can you see how Fee is
doing?” I asked. “I’m really worried about her.” It wasn’t a lie,
but more than that, I couldn’t handle her here. Not now. Not if
Angela freaked.

“Sure, sweetie,” Grandma said. “Be right
back.”

When she was gone, I told Angela my story. I
started slow, nervous of her judgment more than anything, but as
time went on, she relaxed and my words came easier. We ended up
cross-legged on the carpet together, her asking questions and me
answering. It felt like girl-talk—the supernatural version.

“Wait, so Mason Harding is a Werewolf?” she
asked.

“Yup, his whole family.”

“Wow. Anyone else at school?”

“I don’t think so. I would’ve sensed
them.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

I told her about the tingling, shivery
feeling I always got when another Werewolf was around.

“So every time Wes comes around, you get
goosebumps?”

“Not Wes,” I said. “He’s different.”

“How?”

“He and I are hybrids. Not like the ones you
saw tonight,” I added quickly. “My mom is a Hunter and my dad was a
Werewolf. His parents were one of each also. We’ve been this way
since birth. I think that makes a difference.”

“You missed out on the glowy eyes,” she
said.

There was a hint of humor in her words,
enough that I smiled. “I missed out,” I agreed.

Her amusement faded as quickly as it had
come. “You could’ve told me.”

“I wanted to.”

“Is that why you went away to school?”

“Sort of. I also really did punch Cindy
Adams.” We shared another smile.

“Her nose is really crooked now,” she said.
“Her mom took her to a plastic surgeon, I think.”