Savage (21 page)

“What are you asking of me?” Trick said again.

“To do what the Hellhound
must
do,” Daniel replied. “Punish the guilty.”

“Kill them, you mean,” Trick said. “Yes.”

Silence fell — utterly; no wind blew; no creatures moved in the snow. No fern quivered. It seemed to Katelyn that the entire forest was waiting to hear what Trick would say. He stood, his head cocked slightly to the side as though he were listening to something far away.

The Hounds of God also waited, heads bowed as if they were praying. For herself she couldn’t help but stare, wishing she could know his thoughts at that moment, understand what he was deciding and what it would mean for them all.

They wanted him to kill Fenner and Gaudin werewolves until a truce could be forged. Katelyn thought of Justin, Jesse, and Cordelia. In Justin’s and Cordelia’s cases, circumstances had forced them to act as they had. They had been victims of fate.

And where did her grandfather figure into this? Surely if Trick acted, it wouldn’t be alone. After all, by his own admission, he was merely the apprentice.

Her heart stuttered as she realized that he might be right: how
could
they be together if he was capable of such things?

“There must be peace,” Trick said at last. “We have discussed this and we now agree. We accept the help of the Hounds of God.”

We.

Katelyn blinked as she realized that while he’d stood there, seemingly listening, he had been communicating with her grandfather just as he often spoke to her. And her grandfather, being the Hellhound, would have been able to answer Trick. So, whatever was coming, they had decided it together.

Grandpa?
she called. Did he know now that she was a werewolf? And that she knew he had killed her father?

“And because of the long-standing rivalries and hatreds between the packs and the need for peace, we have come to a decision. If they do not stop fighting immediately, we will unleash our fury on both Fenners and Gaudins and no willing, active combatant will be spared,” Trick said.

Katelyn swayed. Justin would be killed. And even though she hadn’t been necessarily willing, Cordelia would probably be slaughtered as well. The “willing” part was probably their way of giving Katelyn an out so they didn’t have to kill her. Her thoughts flashed to Lucy and Jesse, who had been safely holed up in that cabin until the war had come to them. What would happen to them? If they fought back to protect themselves, did that make them combatants?

All the Hounds of God were nodding. “A fair judgment,” Daniel said.

“No. Wait,” she blurted, but Trick silenced her with a look. She burned with resentment. Fine, then; it was going to fall to her to save those she cared about.

Even Lucy.

Daniel and the other Hounds of God rose in unison as though there had been some signal they alone could see or hear. Daniel clasped his hands inside his robes.

“What would
you
have
us
do?” he asked Trick.

Trick crossed his arms over his chest as he considered. Katelyn wanted to speak up again, tell him not to do anything. But something did have to be done. The guilty parties did have to be stopped.

But only the guilty.

“We can’t add to the suspicion already brewing thanks to the deaths that have already happened,” Trick said matter-of-factly, “so the traditional method is out.”

“Would you be able to tear so many apart, Hellhound?” Daniel asked, sounding awed.

“Limb from limb,” Trick confirmed. She saw a spot of color rise on his cheek and he steadfastly didn’t look at her. Horrified, she told herself he was lying to them. This wasn’t what he did, what he
was
. Her mind ran in a dozen directions, spinning alternative stories to explain the mystery that was Trick, but they all made as much sense — or less — than what she was struggling so hard to accept: that he was the death-dealing Hellhound calmly discussing wiping out two packs of werewolves. Cordelia had been right to fear him. To fear
them
.

She slid her glance toward Daniel. Daniel had said he would give Cordelia and her time to stop the war. Was that still the bargain between them?

“So, perhaps a ‘natural’ disaster of some sort?” Daniel asked. “A fire?”

15

A FIRE.

Katelyn’s mind buzzed on overdrive, leaping from one thought to the next as she listened to them making plans. Would Trick and her grandfather and the Hounds of God force the warring packs to burn in the hills above Wolf Springs? She thought about the tiny winding mountain roads. It would be so easy to block them off, preventing escape. Her thoughts turned to the fire that had started during the earthquake that had killed her mother. They’d investigated it for arson.

No one did that to us
, she thought.
It just happened
.

“When the Fenners moved here and the Gaudins settled in Louisiana, it was a different world,” Trick said. “They could hide. They could hunt. There were no humans here. And then they came. And so . . . we came.” He gestured to himself. “When there was nowhere to run, they obeyed the laws or suffered the penalty.”

“And we thank God for that, Hellhound,” Daniel said, and the Hounds of God lowered their heads . . . except for Magus, who frowned.

“Now there are cell phones and satellite street views of nearly every square inch on earth. Even up here, it’s getting harder and harder to keep our secrets. And they must be kept.”

“And when they are not, those who break silence must die,” Daniel said.

“No mercy. None,” Trick affirmed. His chin was raised, his shoulders thrust back. Power was radiating off him like light. Katelyn had walked among werewolves for months, but Trick seemed far more . . . supernatural, mythic and powerful. The wolf in her was drawn to his air of command . . . and awed by it.

“And their territory will be destroyed, so no one can claim it. There will be nothing worth fighting over. It’ll be a wasteland,” Trick said. He looked at each of the Hounds of God in turn. All of them — including Magus — nodded their approval.

“We are with you, Hellhound!” Daniel cried.

“We are with you!” the Hounds of God echoed. They raised their arms skyward and sank to their knees before Trick.

Katelyn swallowed hard. Surely, in the face of their own extinction, both packs could work together to survive.

And if not, they deserve what’s coming to them.

She was repulsed by the savage turn of her own thoughts. Waves of hatred at the way they had treated her threw her off balance. And look at how they had treated Cordelia, too. Forcing her to get married at the age of seventeen. It was barbaric. They really were animals.

Like me. I’m one of them.

Daniel and Magus had warned that something like this would happen if she and Cordelia weren’t able to stop the packs from fighting. But they hadn’t given them any time to do anything.

If I was alpha
, she thought, and then she rolled her eyes. Who was she kidding? An hour ago she’d been throwing rocks at shadows.

But I’m immune to silver. I’m the only one. I’m something different. And I’m the only witness to this pact. I could be alpha.

A snatch of a poem she’d had to read for one of her English classes came back to her, something from
Paradise Lost
.

Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.

Her eyes drifted to Trick. She studied his profile, the contrast of his skin against the white snow. He had known her own secret all along, and loved her anyway. If a Hellhound could love a werewolf, then rival packs could reconcile. But if a Hellhound had to reject a werewolf just because she was a werewolf . . .?

She was tiptoeing backward before she even realized she’d made up her mind about what to do. She just knew she was going to do
something
. No one glanced over at her. All the Hounds of God were staring at Trick, looks of adoration on their faces. Trick’s head was cocked to the side again, communing with her grandfather.

All of them were lost in their own world.

Which was exactly what Katelyn needed so that she could escape back to hers.

A dozen more steps and she was able to put a couple of trees between her and the others.

Just a little farther.

Her nerves were jangling. She was certain that at any moment someone would realize what she was doing and sound the alarm.

No one sounded an alert as she went another dozen steps. Then another.

She was going to make it.

She took to the trees as she had at the mine, at the bayou, doubting that the absence of footprints would slow Trick down if he wanted to come after her. But it was difficult and tiring and finally she dropped back down, running as silently and swiftly as she could, waiting for the sounds of pursuit. But the forest was silent behind her.

Trick might have let her go so she could warn the packs. What if he didn’t care if she burned, too? She refused to believe that was true. Trick loved her. She was sure of that. She was as sure as she was that she loved him. But she couldn’t let him do this. It was wrong.

The wind whipped by, stinging her face. She heard them cheering again.

She ran as hard and as fast as she could.

Keep going, keep moving
, came a voice inside her head. Not Trick’s voice, hers.

Practically flying, she began to shake from exertion but she had never felt so alive.

So free.

She was a werewolf hated and hunted by the pack she’d been forced to join, living in the middle of nowhere with a grandfather and a boyfriend who were Hellhounds. But despite it all, she felt free for the first time in her life.

After her father had died she’d had to take care of her mother and work at the dance studio. She and Kimi had always acted like they were crazy and carefree but it had never really been so, at least not for Katelyn. Kimi had lived a charmed Los Angeles life with wealthy parents who indulged her and had no significant worries, ever. She’d been the one to believe in Katelyn’s dream of making it to Cirque, as she moved in circles where people
did
become movie stars and film directors — where dreams came true every day.

“You just have to make it happen,” Kimi used to lecture her. But Kimi had the weapons to make it in L.A. — money, connections. But now, with the lives of dozens of people in her hands, the weight of the world on her shoulders, Katelyn had more power and better weapons than she’d ever had in her entire life.

She even had the power to walk away. Be a lone wolf, even though she’d been told werewolves who weren’t part of a pack didn’t last. That they went crazy.

But the werewolves of Wolf Springs hadn’t lasted, either. How many were dead?

And talk about crazy . . . Lee Fenner had kept his pack on very short chains, which he yanked whenever he felt like it. He had ruled through fear and oppression.

But now he was gone.

Katelyn kept moving, the temperature plummeting. She had no idea where she was going. And then, as if he had been summoning her, she spotted Justin standing in the moonlit snow with his cowboy hat on. He was facing away from her holding a rifle at his side.

She was just about to call out to him when he whirled around with a rifle raised against his shoulder. She screamed and dropped to the ground.

“Shit,” he cried; then he grabbed her up and hugged her fiercely. The enormity of everything that had happened, everything that was about to happen, crashed around her and she hugged him back. He kissed her cheek, offering his own, and she kissed it. “Oh, my God, Katelyn,” he said. “I thought you were dead. Lucy said you were at the cabin when they attacked it. And I couldn’t find you.”

He showered her face with kisses. She broke away and covered her mouth with her hands. Her chest was heaving. She shook her head.

Sea-blue eyes filled her vision. Dark curls framed a face taut with concern. “Katelyn, what’s wrong?”

“How are they? Is Jesse okay? Lucy?”

“No one gets past Lucy to anyone she cares about,” he said. “She said you came to check on them. That was . . . incredible.” He gazed at her with joy and longing, and she broke eye contact.

“We kicked their asses at the cabin,” he said. “So the rest of the pack has been called in. Arial, Regan, and I summoned them together. There’s no holding back now. The Fenners are going to kill every last one of those Gaudins
tonight
.”

“No,” she said, but he didn’t hear her.

“We’ve got over a hundred fighters. You, too. What happened down in the bayou . . . those Gaudins aren’t going to know what hit them.”

“Justin, listen . . .”

“Arial and Regan are still jockeying for position. In a war, you need a leader.”

“So nothing’s settled yet?”

“Nope,” he said, suddenly sounding very tired.

She looked up at him and caught the last remnants of what appeared to be deep regret. He blinked and assumed a more neutral expression, hooking his right thumb in his belt loop, and rolled the sole of his boot back and forth over a pine cone.

“Justin, listen to me. I was just with the Hellhound. And the Hounds of God.”

“What?”
He raised his rifle and swept in a circle, as though expecting them to attack at any moment. “Where?”

“In the woods,” she said. “Just past the cabin. I was looking for you and I ran out of gas and I was running, and it found me. It said to end the war with the Gaudins or they would burn the pack out.”

Deep down she realized she wasn’t ready to out Trick and her grandfather. She cleared her throat. If she could get both sides to see reason quickly then she wouldn’t have to.

She saw the hatred simmering in his eyes. “You
talked
to it? What are the Hounds of God doing with it? Why are they on our land at all?”

“They’ve partnered up,” she said. “They’re afraid this war is going to reveal your secret — our secret — to the world. They won’t allow it. So we have to stop the fighting.”

“Who is it?” he demanded, and she wasn’t certain he had heard a single word she had spoken. “A shapechanger? Like us?”